One Earth: The Marvel/DC RPG

[Carnage27]

"Captain Rogers I can assure you Checkmate is as secure as ever," Maxwell Lord says, not looking up from the files in front of him. That's the second time he hasn't looked me in the eye when I've spoken to him. You can find out a lot about a man by that. He thinks he's better than me. "There is no mole. We've rigorously checked everyone out at hiring and every year after that."

I ball my fist to release some of the tension flowing through me right now, my fingernails digging into my palms, "Lord, you weren't there. We were. We heard what he said. Kobra knew we were coming. He knew I was coming. How else would he know unless he had an inside source?"

"I agree, Lord," Amanda Waller says from beside me. "From the report it's fairly obvious that they had some inside info."

"Thank you, Waller," he says, waving her away. "But I don't think it's the case. No, I think Kobra was attempting to drive a wedge into our organization by starting a witch hunt."

I want to say something more. With every fiber of my being I want to continue this conversation. But already I've realized Lord isn't one to be questioned.

Storming out of the office, I run into Flag, "Take it that didn't go too well."

"The man is gonna ignore this problem until it shoots him in the back," I say, turning towards the agent quarters. "We need to take care of this."

"I feel the same way," he smiles. "Where do we start?"

Before I can respond, I realize that I'm incredibly tired. Normally, it would take me a lot longer to tire out, but I guess my body needs to ramp itself up again after being frozen for so long.

"It'll have to wait Flag," I respond as I head to my room. "I need to pass out."

"Sounds good," he nods. "We've left some movies on what you've missed since your freezing, if you want to catch up."

But I don't have time for that. I collapse into my bed, and drift into a deep sleep.
​

 

[MST3K 4ever]

"I honestly can't tell you, GA. You are the one who is usually with a plan. I just improvise or roll with the punches. The only thing I can say is use whoever is in there with you as a distraction and not get caught. If you are real lucky, they will be so caught up with the others that you'll be able to walk right in and get whatever you wanted and be out before anyone notices."

Green Arrow listens to GL's response and replies, "Okay for something this big this isn't something that you just walk in on and hope for the best you plan it out."

Arrow moves a bit further down the vent and says, "So far zero body count but lots of guard sound asleep, and no-one talking about an end goal. This isn't exactly 'Die-Hard' but if there are guys who....wait a minute GL."

Arrow pauses to gather his thoughts and says, "I think I've got it. In the movie 'Die-Hard' what was one of the big advantages for the bad guys? They had someone monitoring the security system. My guess they're off site, because if they were on-site I would've noticed them coming in and they could've stopped the lock-down which would make life easier for them."

Arrow observes one of the thugs take down a security guard via hand to hand and sees a tattoo.

Arrow says,"The guy I just saw take out a guard he used standard military style combat moves, and his tattoo was a special forces logo. Again no body count. Why not kill them? My guess these clowns are in here running a security drill of some kind for LexCorp, but sending Special Forces psychos and S.H.I.E.L.D. wash-outs in among the rent-a-cops is like sending the wolves into the petting zoo. I'll figure that out later."

He begins to venture a little further down the vent and says, "You got something new on your plate GL. Find me an unmarked van or delivery truck of some kind. Chances are likely that's the eyes and ears of this op, and take it over. If you see any crimes between now and finding the van stop them too we're super-heroes after all."

Arrow noting the irony of the situation says, "Well most of the time. Movin' out."

 

[Carnage27]

The illumination from the TV flickers off the walls of my darkened quarters as I watch the images flicker by. I woke up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back to sleep. Instead, I've popped in the videos that Checkmate gave me to catch up on American history.

And I can't believe what I'm looking at.

Even the first images of the celebration of the victory in Europe quickly change to horror as two humongous nuclear bombs are dropped on Japan, incinerating two populous cities. But the images don't stop there. Hoses and dogs are turned on those just wishing to express their voice and gain their full rights. A president killed, possibly by his own government. Students are gunned down as they protest a seemingly unjust war.

And the wars are the worst part. Some are started for the right reasons...but others that I see... Some seem like nothing more than greed and imperialism. Wars for oil, or control of a region. Attacks on seemingly innocent people. The wars of my day were easy.

One side was good, one side was evil. There was no cloud of moral ambiguity that has seemingly covered the entire world. There was no question which side should win. No question whether the battles needed to be fought.

There are moments that bring a happy tear to my eye. The moon landing among them. But I also see the country degrade itself into one run by greed and narcissism, instead of freedom and hope.

I shut the TV off, unable to watch anymore, and shower, before leaving the Checkmate compound. I don't know if I'm supposed to, but honestly I don't care. I need to clear my head and get some air.

Strolling the dark and now unfamiliar streets of the capitol blindly, I eventually happen across the memorials of the great wars of the past. I read the names at the Vietnam Memorial. I aw at the Iwo Jima statue. And before long, I come across one that makes me stop dead in my tracks.

There am I, immortalized in stone, my shield raised high. Around me stand the other Invaders. Hourman and Union Jack stand at a place of prominence, the other two of the team that died during the same mission that was believed to have taken my life as well as Bucky's. The two had young sons at home, I know that. I can only imagine what their families went through.

And Bucky. Bucky was a good friend. A friend I never thought I'd have. He was like a little brother to me. Yet in many ways more grown up than I ever was. If I was the fresh-faced optimist, Bucky was my dark reflection, no matter what kind of uniform he dressed in.

"Captain America," a distorted voice says from behind me. I turn around and find a figure standing in the shadows ten yards in front of me, "Don't come any closer. It'll be better for the two of us if you don't know who I am. For now at least."

This seems like a trap, but I'm not worried about who ever this is. I can take on one man by myself, even without my shield.

"Then what do you want?" I respond cautiously, ready for him to make an aggressive move.

"You can calm down, Cap," the shadow says. "I'm not here to hurt you. That's for sure. Just hear to warn you. Checkmate has a leak. You're right on that. Who it might be, I'm not sure. But don't trust Waller. Or Lord. Someone in the hierarchy is to blame. And your team won't be safe as long as they're around."

"And how do you know that?" I say. crossing my arms.

"Because I have my own resources inside Checkmate. Ones insuring the safety of our country instead of threatening it," they respond. "Be vigilant Cap. Find whoever it is and bring them down. The country depends on it."

"And why do you care so much?"

"I'm like any red-blooded American, Steve. We may not be the same people we once were, but that's because we've lost the light. People like you and Superman can bring it back. America needs you more than ever, Rogers. You can bring this country back to what it should be. All it needs is a little push."

After they say that, a case slides towards me. I bend down and open the fairly large trunk open, and smile to myself.

I look up to thank the shadow, but they're gone.
​

 

[wiegeabo]

Even though I can't see the darkness, I can still shroud myself within it. The slight temperature drop as I hide myself from the lights of the city lets me know that I'm hidden from those that still see. And no one without enhanced sense is going to notice me up here.

Which is exactly what I'm counting on.

So I wait on the roof of this large house. I'm not usually one for traveling to the suburbs, but one must go where the criminials are. Especially if they don't look like criminals.

I can hear cars a mile away, but none of them match the sound I'm looking for. The sound I honed in on shortly after the trial. But it's only a matter of time.

And a little over an hour later...the sound is there.

I slow my breathing and concentrate as the engine gets louder and the distinctive roll of tires, one of which needs air, reaches the driveway. The enging shuts off and the door opens and slams closed. The sound of the door seems to light up the entire neighborhood, and I can 'see' everything around me as they reflect the sound back.

And I 'see' the man I'm looking for.

I listen to the crunch of gravel as he walks towards the front of the house. Each step is like a small burst of light under his feet. I tilt me head and wait until I hear the jingle of keys.

The keys fall to the ground as I wrap my billy-club's cable under his arms un pull him up to the roof. I stand over him, virtually invisible in the shadows.

"Hello, Judge..."

"Oh my God!!! What?! Who?! WHAT ARE-"

I clamp my hand over his mouth as I kneel on top of him, pinning him to his roof.

"Keep it down, Judge Chambers. The last thing I need is you screaming when I'm just trying to have a nice, quiet conversation with you." Besides, it's hell on the ears.

I give him a small shove, and drop my voice an octave. "Understand?"

He nods with wide eyes.

"Good. Now, let's talk. This morning, the verdict in the Varnall case came back guilty. I followed this case. And I know, the only reason he was found guilty is because of you."

The Chambers shakes his head. "No, no. It was the jurors. He was tried-"

"He was tried unfairly. You did everything you could to bias the case. You blocked motions the defense brought up, sided with the prosecutor's objections at every chance you could."

"That's not true! I-"

I give him another shove. "I can tell when you're lying. And even if I couldn't, you made it painfully apparent."

Chambers struggles a little more, but finally goes limp, giving up. "I've never...never done this before. I'm an honest judge!"

"You were. And I know this was the first case you've thrown. You were far too obvious. But I want to know why? What did they have on you?"

"It wasn't me."

I shove again and raise my fist.

"No, wait, it wasn't. It was my wife?'

"What about your wife?

"She...she...owes a lot of money."

I listen to his heartbeat and voice. He's telling the truth. "Gambling?"

He nods. "She's...got a problem. And what makes it worse is that she's pretty good. But these last few weeks..."

"She's been losing."

He keeps nodding. "A lot of money. She's been selling things, and taking money from our accounts. But at this rate, she's going to want to mortgage the house soon. I tried to get her to stop. But she 'knows' she can win it all back."

"I doubt she's doing this in a legal establishment."

"...no."

"And so she tainted your position on the bench." He can only nod. I think for a second. "Wait...a few weeks ago...when did she start losing?"

"I don't-"

"Was it five weeks ago?"

He thinks back. "Yeah, maybe..."

"Just when Varnall was arrested..."

"I don't understand."

"You're wife's not on a losing streak. They rigged the games. They made sure she lost so they could get to you. They wanted Varnall to take the fall."

"H-How can you be sure?"

"I can't. Not yet. Not until you tell me who made you do this."

"No. I can't tell you that. If they find out-"

"You've done what they wanted. Now you just need to get your wife the help she needs....and submit your resignation."

"My res...but my career-"

"Ended five weeks ago. Tell me who it was."

"I-I don't-"

I raise my fist again.

"No! Really! I don't know who wanted the case thrown. But I know the guy they sent. A low level mobster. I presided over a couple of his cases. Never enough evidence to put him away."

"The name..."

"Bigia. Joeseph Biglia."

"Is he one of The Kingpin's men?"

"King-? No. You believe that myth. This guy isn't local, although he's done local jobs. No, he supposedly works for Maroni. Out of Gotham."

Gotham...?

 

[Byrd Man]

IC: Jim Gordon


GCPD Western District Headquarters
5:32 PM


There's an expression here in town. To some it's a motto, or a creed, or even a way of life. The cops like to use it a whole lot. The expression is the Gotham Way. It can mean a few things, but the best description of it is this: When life bites you in the ass, you turn around and bite it right back. You take whatever you're given, and you give it right back. You get knocked to the canvas, you get right back up and keep on punching. That's the Gotham Way.

I walk down the hallways of the Western, chatting to the few cops I know as I walk by. Most of them act like they don't know me. They wouldn't be caught dead talking to me. I hear all the nicknames, even if they don't think I do. St. James, Jimmy the Rat, James Choirboy. In their eyes, I'm a self-righteous stick in the mud who doesn't know know how hard it is for a real cop. There's a joke going around Central and the Districts. What's the difference between a gutter rat and James Gordon? One is a low-down, bottom feeding vermin. The other is a rat.

I can deal with their snide comments, I've become quite a target over the last year, so that comes with the territory. I've dealt with threats, blackmail, and beatings. I shrug them off and keep going. That's the Gotham Way. There's a change coming, I can feel it. With the help of the few allies I have inside the GCPD, and the one who operates outside the law, I know we can make this department a better place.

I take the stairs down to the basement. Hanging on the door to the basement is a piece of paper taped to it. "Major Crimes Unit - Quick Response Team." Walking into the basement, I see a burly man with a thick mustache. He's wearing work boots, blue jeans, and a flannel shirt.

"Tork."

"Hey, Captain," the sergeant says, reaching out to shake my hand. "Why are you slumming out here in the Western?"

"What do you say we take a ride?"

"What's wrong with the basement?"

"Ears have walls, Mike. Didn't take long for me to find that out. Where's the rest of your crew?"

"Done for the day. We got an early start in the middle of the night, raided a Maroni stash house. I sent them home a few hours ago. I was about to head that way myself."

"Let's go, then. I'm buying."

I take Tork to Mike's Bar halfway across town. It's not a cop bar, so there's almost no chance of us being overheard.

"So how is Montoya working out?" I ask Tork as he sips his beer.

"She's green. She has potential...but she's no DeWolff."

"Seem to recall you saying the same thing about her when she was put on your team."

"It's why I said she has potential. Anyway, she gets along great with Daz and Driver, follows orders, knows how to handle her nine, has a sharp eye, and a hell of a right cross. A meth cooker we busted the other week found the last fact out the hard way."

Tork and I drink in silence for a few minutes before I speak up.

"Tell me about that raid you did on that bookie last week."

"You read the report, Jim. It was totally ****ed from the get-go. Our goddamn CI lied to us. The house had been used as a bookie before we got there, but they were long gone by the time Daz pulled the Nova up to the house."

"You get any funny feelings from it?"

"More than a few. That was the first time that snitched had lied to us, he'd been reliable in the past. Also, I had Daz and Montoya do recon on the house a day before we busted them up. It was business as usual. I think the snitch told them what was going down before we knocked the door in. I don't know why, it makes no sense."

I take another sip of my beer and nod.

"Besides you and your team, who else knew about the raid beforehand?"

"Just the normal people involved in the chain of command. You, Captain Major, the ADA you got working with the MCU, and Lieutenant Flass."

"That's what I thought. I think there's a leak somewhere in that chain command."

"It's not an of my guys, persons? People? Any of my team."

"I have a good idea on who it is..."

"Flass, right?"

"Of course. I keep sending Internal Affairs my complaints, but they keep getting ignored. I think we need to take matters into our own hands."

"I don't know, Jim," Tork says with an uncomfortable look on his face. "Sure, there's a lot of smoke around Flass...but he's still another cop."

I bend forward and show Tork the back of my neck.

"See that scar tissue on the back of my neck? That was from surgery I had to have ten or so months ago when Flass and his buddies beat me with baseball bats. It fused two of the vertebrae in my spine. I laid there in the GCPD parking garage, beaten and bruised. Know what I did? I got up, tracked Flass down, and I returned the favor."

"The Gotham City Way," Tork mumbles as he takes a sip.

"And that's what we have to do. Flass has the commissioner's ear, the commissioner tells the IA Commander what to do. IA will never build a case against him or Loeb, so we have to build our own."

Flass and Loeb tired their damnedest to run me out of town. They took their shot, but they found out I was made of stronger stuff.

Time to see how well they stand up. They fired the opening salvo, now I'm returning fire.

That's the Gotham City Way.
​

 

[Batman]

​

*KA-THOOM*

Great Scott, what the heck was that?!

Any doubt that the noise came from inside the building is erased, as the receptionist stands up in her chair and turns towards the very same direction, noticing as a mild quake shockwaves through the floors. In an action that continues to perplex me, even after all these years, time manages to freeze in place around me as I step back, take a deep breath, and peer up at the ceiling. Then through it. I've learned time and time again that you have to act fast, in situations like this.

It looks like I was right to be concerned - I can see something moving upstairs, in the science wing that's a couple of floors under the live demonstration that Hamilton is presenting. It's something that doesn't look like any man, animal, or mutant that I've ever encountered before. But it looks volitile, which is definitely something to consider when I realize that it's just burst it's way through the walls. Doesn't even act like it was a hindrance, as it begins tearing apart the room as the scientists flee.

That thing is going to hurt someone. Someone's got to stop it.

I glance down at my shirt, knowing someone who could. But I don't know if I should risk it...

"AAAIIIEEE!"

"Monster! Terrible monster!"

"Somebody call the police

My eyes narrow ahead, knowing what that means. It means that I don't have a say in the matter. If that thing is stronger than the police, which it looks to be, then the people upstairs don't stand a fighting chance. And Pa always did say that if it came down to it, I'd have to make a choice. Stay in the shadows forever, or reveal myself to the world before it was too late for the world to comprehend what I really am.

And what I am, right now, is just someone who's going to try and help those people.

Whatever happens after that... happens.

"Listen to me. You need to get as far away from here as you can."

"What? What did you..."

*WHOOSH*

In a blur of colors and shapes that pass me in my wake, I've left the lobby and circulated upstairs in a matter of seconds, quickly changing out of my outer layer of clothes and tossing them aside. By the time I reach the second floor, the jeans are replaced with a tight leather blue ensemble and crimson boots, a yellow belt circulating through red trunks, and a freshly pressed dress shirt overtop the rest of it that I'm going to have to discard. Shaking my head as I grab at the buttons, ready to peel them back, I watch the curl in it fall to my forehead and smile.

Terrible monster, huh?

I think it's about to meet it's match, because this looks like a job...

For Superman.

 

[SuperFerret]

"Oh, that won't be necessary." said a blonde man with a slight Australian accent emerging from the chaos surrounding Kitty and Senator Ross, "Everyone saw you kidnap the scumbag, so now when they find his corpse, everyone'll know that we mutants mean business." With a flick of his wrist, he opens a small cigarette lighter. I am ashamed to say that I momentarily hesitate at the sight of it, but I push past my fear anyway.

"If you mean to assassinate anyone today, I must warn you, you will not succeed." I say, not yet revealing my true appearance for the sake of the Senator.

The flames from the man's lighter grew, forming a great fiery hand that reaches out at me, the embers of its extended digits flickering close to my face. I keep my calm as best I can, though my form shimmers and returns to my usual emerald countenance.

Martians don't sweat, but the heat washing over me is unbearable as I leap out of the way. My pyrophobia is preventing me from utilizing my full concentration, and due to that, I do not feel safe phasing away.

"Kitty!" I call out to my young companion, my voice drowned out by the roaring flames that now form a herd of stallions barreling down at me and the manic cackling of the madman directing the fiery steeds. "Get the Senator to safety! I-I'll handle this lunatic."

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Arrow keeps moving through the air ducts when through the grate he sees an elevator.

If I remember correctly the elevator needs a special badge to access it when there's a lock-down. Which I don't have....

He sees an unconscious guard.

Yet.

Arrow removes the grate and sees that the camera has finished it's pass. He fires a suction cup arrow and it catches the security badge. Arrow pulls it back to him and exits the air-duct system and replaces the grate.

Quickly he gets to the elevator and enters with the badge. Arrow then gets onto the roof of the elevator.

Okay what I'm looking for is floor number 42 which put me very near the security center. If I can get in there maybe I can get a handle on the lock-down protocols and go from there.

 

[Carnage27]

​

"You alright, Jean?" I ask as I walk over to her and help her up. A bolt of energy whizzes by my face, compliments of Plastique. Off to the side, Blockbuster starts to get up and recover.

"Go after Mystique, I can hold these two back."

I gather myself up and go to head back after Mystique, but turn to Scott before leaving, "Be careful."

Pushing my way through the crowd, I follow the screams towards a scene that stops me dead in my tracks. A mother screams and pleads with Mystique as she points two pistols at a pair of children. She looks at me and smiles, "Well, well, Red. Looks like we're in a bit of a pickle here. So here's how this is going to go-"

"Let them go, Mystique," I say. But I'm not ready to make a move. If I'm not precise with my powers here I could end up being the one who kills these kids. "They're innocent in all of this."

"Innocent? Really?" she laughs. "They're the vile offspring of the people here to watch us be persecuted. They were here to watch as we were put on a list so that when the government wants to put us in camps they'll be ready. These little roaches in front of me are just future mutant haters. So now you're going to let me leave and then maybe I won't blow little Jack and Jill's brains out."

As she begins to step away, I feel the rage building in me. The fire burns deep in my chest. The voice that comes from my mouth is barely recognizable, "NO!"

A stream of golden fire springs from my hand and engulfs the blue mutant like a cocoon. I lift her off the ground in it, and I hear her screaming in pain. But the primal rage in me doesn't let go. The power is like nothing I've ever felt before, and yet intimately familiar. It's like an old friend from a past life coming for a visit. Strange and welcoming at the same time.

That is until she manages to fire a shot that strikes me in the shoulder, breaking my concentration. I drop to my knees as Mystique runs off, making her escape.

 

[Byrd Man]

I gather myself up and go to head back after Mystique, but turn to Scott before leaving, "Be careful."

"Of course. It's me, after all"

Right on cue, the big man tackles me and drives me into the ground. I struggle against him and roll myself over to face him. I let a blast loose and strike him in his chest, knocking him into the air and off of me.

I stand up as Plastique fires another round of energy bolts at me. I strike them all mid-air and destroy them before they hit me. I turn my aim towards her, sending out a bolt of energy at her. She throws up an energy shield and blocks my beams. I begin to walk towards her, intensifying the power of my rays. Plastique's shield begins to crack, she grunts and tries to keep it together as I keep walking forward. I turn the power on my visor up one more notch, shattering Plastique's shield and striking her and knocking her back. She falls to the ground and her head smacks against the ground, knocking her unconscious.

I turn around as the big man charges. I hit him with a quick blast to the end and send him to the ground, wriggling in pain.

As she begins to step away, I feel the rage building in me. The fire burns deep in my chest. The voice that comes from my mouth is barely recognizable, "NO!"

A stream of golden fire springs from my hand and engulfs the blue mutant like a cocoon. I lift her off the ground in it, and I hear her screaming in pain. But the primal rage in me doesn't let go. The power is like nothing I've ever felt before, and yet intimately familiar. It's like an old friend from a past life coming for a visit. Strange and welcoming at the same time.

That is until she manages to fire a shot that strikes me in the shoulder, breaking my concentration. I drop to my knees as Mystique runs off, making her escape.

The commotion to my right takes my attention. I run over to Jean as she falls to her knees.

"Jean, are you okay?! What was that?"

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Previously

Spoiler

Hellfire Club
Manhattan

Alfred pulls the limo up to the Brownstone and looks into the rearview mirror at me. "I suggest you approach the situation with caution, sir. You may be an expert when it comes to street criminals, but the stakes are so much higher."

"Don't worry, I'm ready. I'll call you when I'm done."

I get out the car and walk up the steps as Alfred pulls away. I give the doorman my name and he lets me into the foyer. The symbol on the business card is hanging on the walls, along with pictures of the club's history. My eye is drawn to one picture in particular. There's Tony's father, my grandad, and President Kennedy.

"That was shortly before he announced his candidacy for presidency."

I turn around to see the man waiting for me.

"Mister Wayne, allow me to be the first to welcome you to our headquarters."

"Welcome to the Hellfire Club. I'm Sebastian Shaw, Black King of the New York Chapter."

I walk over and shake Shaw's hand, giving his wardrobe choice a curious glance.

"We like to keep the standards of the Victorian dress here at the club. The Masons have their aprons and rings, we have our whalebone corsets and cravates."

"Now suddenly, I may be changing my mind..."

Shaw laughs and begins to walk down the hallway with me following closely behind.

"I am curious, Mister Wayne, why do you reach out to us now?"

"I had never heard of the club until I stumbled upon some of my grandfather's belongings. I got curious after I searched the internet and found out who you actually are."

"I searched our records and, while your grandfather was a member, you father was never interested even though we approached him as a legacy member."

"My father was always more interested in medicine and his practice than playing the role of a billionaire socialite."

"Well, like him, you are a legacy. All you need to do is ask and you're a full-fledged member above the rank of pawn. A Knight."

Suddenly, I feel a chill run up my spin and into my head. There's a numbness in my brain, almost like brain freeze. The image of a pair of bright blue eyes is inside my head. The eyes look inside of my mind, probing, trying to find my deepest thoughts.

I know what's going on. Someone is trying to read my mind. They're an expert at it. Unfortunately for them, it was an expert that trained me as well.

I focus my thoughts on the cover story, imagining everything that I've told Shaw. Picturing made up conversations with Alfred about my grandfather. All my thoughts about Tony, the weapons deal, and Batman are pushed way down inside my subconscious. Within a few seconds, the eyes disappear and I turn to look at Shaw.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just felt a chill. Kinda weird."

"Well, this is where I leave you. Miss Frost is just down the hall. Once you're in her capable hands, she'll start the induction process."

"Thank you for your help, I appreciate it."

I smile and hold out my hand for Shaw. He shakes it and I pat him on the back, quickly slipping a small pad underneath his collar. It's barely the size of a head of a pin, but the microphone should pick up all of Shaw's conversations clearly.

"Thank you for joining us, Mister Wayne. I look forward to seeing you at meetings."

Shaw walks down the hallway and I watch him go. I still don't know who these people are, or what they're after, but I do know that they have a telepath in their midst. I have to keep my mind clear and free of my secrets, always be on my guard.. Just like I was taught.

Suddenly, running down terrorists in the Smokey Mountains doesn't seem like a bad idea.

"Hello, Mister Wayne," the woman in the tight white clothing and the cape says.

Her eyes are blue, as blue as the pair I saw in my head.

"I'm Emma Frost. White Queen of the Hellfire Club. Is there anything I can do for you today?"

"Interesting...I can think of about fifteen different things I'd like to do to you, but nothing you can do for me right now."

"Well, come to the club on the weekend and you may get your wish."

She places a hand on my chest and smiles. Even now I can feel slight probes to my subconscious, testing my mind for weaknesses.

"I'm to give you the tour, if you'd follow me."

She takes my hand and leads me down the hallways of the club, past rooms with people in Victorian dress doing...un-Victorian things. We pass by the lounge where a serious looking man stands by the bear. He's dressed in a outfit similar to Shaw's, except his is green. He nods and Frost and I as we pass.

"That's Werner Vertigo, the White King. He's in a bad mood because he's Vlativian. Therefor, he's always in a bad mood."

"Well, can't say that I blame him."

Frost leads me to a bedroom in the back of the club.

"And this is my room, Mister Wayne. You're a legacy to the Hellfire Club, and I couldn't think of a better way to welcome you to our organization."

Frost leans against me and brings her lips up to mine. Her silver lipstick smears against mine as she breaks away from me and kisses my neck. I sigh, and keep my mental block up as she continues to break it with her mind.

"Why are you here?" She whispers into my ear while her hands rub my chest.

"I believe it was you who led me here, Miss Frost."

She nibbles on my earlobe.

"No, why the Hellfire Club?"

"Because of the perks," I quip. "Speaking of perks..."

Frost suddenly steps away, and sighs.

"If that's how you want to be, Mister Wayne, fine. Werner!"

The door into the bedroom opens up and Vertigo steps in.

"He's hiding something. Bring him to his knees."

"As you wish," Vertigo says with a curt nod. He thrusts his hands forward and points them at me. I start to laugh, but I'm stopped short by the wave of sickness that overcomes me. The walls and floors begin to tilt, my knees buckle and grow weak.

"Give in to the power of Vertigo, Mister Wayne."

Stumbling through the bedroom, I force down the bile rising up in my throat and reach out for the nightstand. Frost has makeup and perfumes on a sliver platter. I turn and aim at Vertigo, fighting my own sickness to toss the platter at him. It whizzes through the air and smacks Vertigo in he head, breaking his concentration and freeing me from his grips. As the nausea fades and the world comes back to normal, I make a run for the exit of the bedroom, only to be clotheslined by a hardened arm. I hit the floor hard and look up.

"I asked you nicely," Frost says, her body covered in a layer of hardened diamonds. "Now you'll tell me."

She brings a diamond-covered foot down towards my head, I roll as her foot crashes through the floor of the room. While Frost is busy pulling her foot out, I pick myself up and run out the bedroom, racing down the halls of the club and looking for an exit.

 

[Andy C.]

Along Came A Spider
Part III

"The morphogenetic field amplifier is now active," Doctor Connors says as he adjusts the controls of the device, his voice carrying through a PA system that allows us to hear him on the other side of the thick transparent barrier, "and it is nearing the calculated optimum radiation levels for the desired reaction. The EM containment field is holding strong. Once we've reached the optimum levels, we will insert the DNA specimens."

Doctor Hamilton turns a dial, and a bar of thin, ghostly green light begins to glow between the two antennae of the device. I snap some pictures, trying to get the light to show up on the camera. Unfortunately, the resolution doesn't seem strong enough.

"I don't know about this, Harry," Liz says, squeezing Harry's hand. "Wouldn't that much radiation be really dangerous if it got out?"

"It won't," Harry said to reassure her. "This experiment is absolutely water-tight. I mean, there's no way they'd do something like this in front of a class of high school kids if it was dangerous."

"Still," Liz trails off.

Whereas Liz is nervous and uncertain about the demonstration of next-generation super-science, Gwen is on the edge of her seat, biting her lower lip to keep from smiling stupidly.

"I've never seen anything like this," she says, leaning toward me to speak over the whine of the generators. "If this actually works, it could revolutionize so many fields of science, all at the same time! And actually being here when it happens? That's just....it's spectacular!"

"I know, right?" I say, only halfway paying attention as I try to get a good picture. "Just imagine--"

*THOOOM!!!!!!*

The wall practically explodes behind us, concrete and steel spewing forth as two figures erupt forward, crashing straight through the transparent barrier. Everyone dives for cover to avoid the rain of debris--thankfully, they seem to have hit so hard that it pulverized the chunks of wall into tiny pieces. The safety barrier, though, is shattered.

"Dear God!" Doctor Connors shouts over the commotion. "Hamilton, shut everything off! We have to get the kids to safety!"

"...POWER..." hisses one of the figures, a monstrous shape that looms over the morphogenetic field device like a predator stalking its food.

"Everyone, get down!" Dr. Hamilton calls out to the room. "I'm activating the emergency abort! It may cause a brief fluctuation in--"

"POWER!" the monster yells hungrily, grabbing the device. It sputters and sparks, and for just a moment, the whole room pulses with that ghostly green.

I hit the deck, putting an arm around Gwen to pull her down to relative safety with me. As I hit the ground, I hear a loud CRUNCH. For a moment I hope it's just my pelvis, but when I look down, I see my fears are confirmed....

....my camera's utterly ruined.

"C'mon, where is it?" I hear another voice among the chaos. "Have to get a good one.....where is it?!"

It's Jim Olsen, the photographer for the Daily Planet. Even as everyone is ducking for cover and holding on for dear life, he's looking for his camera. I scan the room, and I see it's only a couple of paces away from me.

"Gwen, stay down," I say as I start to get up. "I'll be right back."

"Peter, what are you--" she starts to say as I lunge for the camera. "PETER!"

The monster seems preoccupied with the second figure, and blur of red and blue moving too fast to really make out its shape. While it's distracted, I dive towards the camera, scraping the crap out of my knees and elbows as I land on the rubble.

Grabbing the camera, I see it's undamaged and still ready to shoot. I zoom in on the monster and focus....

....but just as I press the button, the red and blue blur gets in the way.

*CLICK!*

*WHAM!!!*

Whatever the blur is, it knocks the monster off its feet with an incredible impact, sending it flying through another wall. Once the coast is clear, Doctor Hamilton looks up.

"Everyone, come on, let's move!" he shouts. "There's an emergency shelter just down the corridor! We can make it if we hurry!"

Students, chaperones, and scientists all scramble for the door. Gwen grabs me by the arm and pulls me along with her, while I stare at the display on Olsen's camera, looking at the picture I just took.

"Holy crap," I say as I take a look at the high-res photo of what was just a red and blue blur.......

".......he's real......all the rumors are actually--OW!"

There's a sharp and sudden stinging on the back of my hand, enough to break my attention away from the fact that I just accidentally took a picture of a guy who's supposed to be about as real as Bigfoot.

I look down at my hand, and see something crawling along the strap of Olsen's camera.

"Peter, are you okay?" Gwen stops in her tracks when she hears me yelp.

"Yeah, it's just...." I say, feeling suddenly light-headed. "Just a bug bite. A little......a spider. I'll be okay; now let's go."
​

 

[Carnage27]

​

The commotion to my right takes my attention. I run over to Jean as she falls to her knees.

"Jean, are you okay?! What was that?"

I grab onto Scott and prop myself up. His words are miles away. I feel the power that was with me moments ago slipping from my body, returning me to the person I've always been. Part of my wants it back...

But another realizes that wasn't me. I wasn't in control of my body. The power took over. The power was driving me. Hell, it even seemed as if the power was talking for me.

"I don't know, Scott," I shake slightly. "I don't know."

 

[sumowrestler]

"Best of luck, my friend."

Jordan heads out to find this van that Oliver thinks is doing the security hijacking. It takes a few minutes to locate the odd van parked half a block away in a dark alley, at least to one who doesn't have a green ringing shining as if it was a huge Christmas light. Jordan tries to hijack the hijacking satellite dish that is sitting on top of the van. This draws the attention of guy in the vehicle. He comes out with a heavy machine gun and starts firing at Jordan. Jordan creates a shield to deflect the bullets. One of the bullets flies back towards the dish putting holes in it and creating sparks. Another bullet barely misses the guy but hits one of the tires instead making it flat in matter of seconds.

"OK, time to end this before one of us gets hurt."

Jordan changes his into a cone shape with a hole in the bottom for the bullets to fall harmlessly. Then once the guy's gun jams, Jordan makes the cone into a hand and wraps it around the guy and buries him into the dumpster a few feet away and closes the lid. As Jordan starts to fly off, he hears sirens coming towards his direction. He then watches as a bank car with its back doors flying around and thugs with shot guns, izuzis, and hand guns firing back at the police. Jordan shoots a beam bending as it goes cutting through the barrels of each of the guns. Once the guns are taken care of, he makes a huge baseball glove a few feet in front of the bank car catching it. The momentum makes Jordan fly above the chase revealing himself to the police and robbers. When the bank car stops and the police catch up, the robbers walks out with hands up realizing that they are done. The police carefully approach the car with a few of them having their guns drawn while others hand cuff the crooks. After Jordan is sure the police have everything under control, he salutes them as he flies back towards the Tower.

"GA, I didn't exactly take control of the van but more of took out the satellite they were using. The driver found himself in a dumpster and the van has a broken dish and a flat front passenger tire."

 

[Batman]

"Who's the wise guy?!"

What met him was something he didn't expect. Another punch to the chest, hitting him harder than he had ever remembered being hit, sending him back into a brick wall. As Logan fell to the ground and gasped at the impact to his supposedly indestructable ribcage, he heard massive footsteps crunch the ground leading up to him. Followed by a deep, frighteningly inhuman chuckle.

"Well, well, well. Lookit what we got here."

Before Logan could retaliate, a massive clawed hand grabbed at his throat and thrust his skull back into the brick. Even with his considerable strength, Logan was unable to break the grip as he was pulled out, then slammed into it again.

"Costume's changed, but I'd recognize that putrid stench anywhere..."

Feeling himself begin to pass out, Logan grabbed hard and tried to fight. But he felt his knees kicked out from under him. Soon, he was forced into a violent headlock, face to face with a wild looking behemoth of a man that he didn't recognize. But given the way his enemy smiled, with a sadistic gleam in his eye, it seemed more than clear...

That the man recognized him.

"This day just keeps gettin' better an' better. What do ya say, short stuff... Remember me?"

"Heh. I'll give ya one thing, runt. Yer still as much'a sissy as I remember..."

All that Logan could hear was the chuckled taunts of the madman that was laying waste to him, as he felt himself tossed along the pavement and slammed directly into a streetside fire hydrant. Several bystanders screamed as Logan's attacker leapt out with animalistic precision, landing on the street infront of him so hard that the concrete actually began to spiderweb beneath his massive size. Rising up, with a giant grin plastered across his face, he raised his hands up to his tongue and began to lick his razor-sharp, black as coal fingernails. He then licked his lips, tasting the blood that had ran over them in his assault on the X-Man. Logan grunted, becoming increasingly enraged at the snarling behemoth.

"So whaddya say? We tear eachother ta shreads, just like old times? Or do ya just want me ta make ya say Uncle?"

Wiping the blood from his lip, Logan pushed himself up into a stance, as the two circled eachother and growled.

"Bub, I don't know who the hell you think you are. But just because you got flight of fancies and a crapload of adrenaline coursin' through you, doesn't mean we ever met."

He sniffs at the air. "Believe me. I'd know your scent."

The stranger laughed.

"So that's what they done to ya! That's freakin' hilarious! Messed with yer mind, turned ya into little Logan lost! I bet you got all sorts'a questions, don'tcha?"

Logan's eyes widened, catching the mention of his name. There was no time for playing around anymore. This guy definitely had answers that he needed. And one way or another, Logan thought to himself, they were all gonna come gushing out of his mouth - along with a river of blood. Enraged, he pointed back at the stranger and nearly spat out every word, concealing a deep seated frustration that was finally going to come to an end.

"Yeah. And you're gonna answer each one of 'em."

"Haw! I'd like to see ya make me!"

Leaping out at Logan, the stranger moved like a giant cat. But even still, the X-Man had enough sense left in him to duck this advance, allowing the stranger to slam head-on into a nearby street lamp. Howling several profanities as he bellowed over, he didn't notice as Logan slowly came up behind him, readying his knuckles. In the time since he had come back to Westchester, he had never been given a proper reason to unsheathe what lied within him.

Now was the time.

"I warned you once, bub."

"Now? I ain't got no reason to be nice about it."

Metallic claws latched themselves around the stranger's massive throat, as he only smiled up at his would-be killer. What stared back down at him wasn't Logan anymore. What was looking back was the animal inside of him. The Wolverine.

"Get yerself some implants?"

Wolverine growled, slicing the razored claws across the stranger's throat. At first, he panicked, clutching at the deep wound and trying to stop the rush of blood that came tunnelling out of his neck. But as he broke free from Logan's grip, scattering across the blood and seemingly beginning to choke to death, something happened. He began to convulse back and forth, then chuckle. Then laugh outright. Wolverine's shock was registered on his face as the stranger looked back, removing his hand from his neck.

The wounds were healing right before his eyes. Somehow, he had acquired Logan's exact same regenerative abilities.

"Boy, you were just born stupid, weren'tcha?"

Before Wolverine could react, his enemy snarled and tackled him into a nearby car, violently slamming the back of his head into a passenger side window hard enough to shatter it. Logan yelled out in pain as he felt the fingernails dig into the skin of his chest, causing the taller mutant to grin once more.

"Ya can't kill me, just like I could never kill you. Doesn't mean that I'm not gonna try, though!"

Pulling himself out of broken glass, Logan managed to ask only one question.

"Who the **** are you?!"

"Heh. That's a story for another day, shorty. For now, ya can just call me..."

"YARGH!"

"SABRETOOTH!"

And thus, a rivalry was immediately reborn.

With blood, to write it in stone.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

"GA, I didn't exactly take control of the van but more of took out the satellite they were using. The driver found himself in a dumpster and the van has a broken dish and a flat front passenger tire."

​

Arrow responds, "Okay not exactly what I had in mind but it should do the job thanks. Now let's see what our "A-Team" rejects do? Do they call the exercise off or push through? Stand by."

Arrow hears the doors on the elevator open and close. Just then he hears someone say, "Henshaw come in! Henshaw! We've lost the signal. Okay we keep going we'll just have to go to plan B and hope for the best."

Arrow says, "I'll bet plan B means they're either stopping at the security center on floor 42 or there might be another set of eyes outside the building. Things are about to get interesting Lantern keep an eye on the building make sure they."

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Luthor continues to sip on his drink and enjoy the music.

He says, "Alexis progress on Team Luthor."

Alexis replies, "Scanning...assault team in currently in elevator 4 moving towards security center. Security Guard Jenkins is on the roof of the elevator."

Lex looks somewhat puzzled and says, "Jenkins? What in blazes is he doing there? Probably trying to be hero I guess."

Lex then says, "Alexis do not alert team of possible wild-card threat. This will be an excellent opportunity to see how acute and prepared they are for the unforeseen. "

Alexis replies, "Acknowledged Mr. Luthor."

Lex continues reading his paper.

 

[IKB]

Nothing to see here.

 

[Andy C.]

A lone van drove down the streets of Gotham City's industrial district in the still and quiet hours of the night, far away from the downtown areas that never truly slept. Consciously the driver obeyed every rule of the road, even stopping for red lights when there was clearly no traffic coming or going. The only thing remarkable about it was how remarkably unremarkable it was.

At least, from the outside.

On the inside, a pale thin man in a gross approximation of clown makeup manned the steering wheel, smiling ear to ear. The Joker giggled to himself as he thought of the gag they were about to pull.

Behind him, four men in rubber clown masks shifted nervously. On loan from Sal Maroni, they were to assist the Joker in solving the 'problem' that had seen nearly two thirds of the syndicate's drug runners dead in a matter of weeks. It was only out of sheer desperation that the Boss would ever hire a freak like the Joker, and the clown was only too willing to oblige.

"I only have two things I want you boys to keep in mind," he had told Maroni's soldiers when joining him for the job. "One? Don't ask stupid questions. And two? Do exactly as I say, when I say it. As long as you play nicely, we should all have a lot of laughs tonight."

When their fifth man stepped up to question the freak, the Joker fed him his own eyeballs. The remaining four became extraordinarily cooperative after that.

"We're coming up on our target, fellas," he said, peering out the driver's side window at the large factory they approached. "I hope everyone remembers their bit."

The four gangsters in the back nodded quickly, and the Joker smiled contented.

The van pulled up to its destination: GotH2O, the city's largest water bottling plant. As the van stopped at the guard shack in front of the plant, in the back rattled a rack of vials filled with bright green fluids.

"Okay, can I see your pass?" said the security guard sleepily, not even looking away from the small television playing a rerun of Cheers.

"Deadmansayswhat?" responded the Joker.

"What?"

The guard was answered by the buzzing chatter of a machine pistol, riddling his body and the shack around him with a spray of lead before the van plowed into the parking lot of the plant.

Once inside, Maroni's thugs swept through the facility, picking off the handful of unsuspecting security guards wherever they were found. The Joker, on the other hand, brazenly strolled into one of the records archives. He rifled through one filing cabinet after another, sifting through dossiers and documents until he found what he was looking for: the upcoming week's shipping manifests.

"And here we go," he said to himself, finding the order form he had in mind, then talking into the walkie-talkie to Maroni's men. "All right, I've found what I want. Now meet me on the factory floor. I hope one of you fellas knows how to drive a forklift."


Minutes later, the four were gathered around a palette of crates, each containing five-gallon water cooler tanks. The Joker reached into his pockets, producing a small drill, a dropper, and a tube of sealing resin.

"This is what we're here for," he said. "The next batch of water being shipped out tomorrow morning, bound for Gotham Central. We're going to give the good Commissioner Loeb and his boys in blue a case of the giggles they'll never forget."

The Joker snapped his fingers, and one of Maroni's men handed him the rack of vials filled with his laughing poison, the one he had perfected by testing on city's drug addict population.

"Yeah," the Joker said to himself as he drilled a small hole in the first tank. "This is gonna be a classic. This one'll really knock 'em dead...."

 

[bkhedr]

​

Urayasu, Tokyo.
December 14th
23:13 hours

It was a cold night. December nights in Japan were always cold. The chill had driven most people indoors and as a result the streets of this affluent Tokyo suburb were near deserted.

The cold didn't bother Tomi Shishido and the quiet empty streets were a welcome development. His target, Deputy Justice Minister Ito Hirohumbi, lived in a large villa that dominated the neighbourhood and getting in and out without being noticed would have been considerably more difficult on a warmer night.

Tomi personally wouldn't have minded either way. More people in the way would just mean more dead bodies, more lives extinguished for the glory of the hand. But his instructions were clear, he was to eliminate the Minister, his family and his guards, but no others.

Tomi shook his head with displeasure. He could still remember the fat bastard's smug speech clearly. His talk of shaking Japan free of its "superstitious past" as he put it. How he proudly proclaimed that his ministry would not only definatively prove the Hand's existence but take legal action against it as well. In his words the "So called Hand was nothing more than a gathering of thugs and gangsters cloaking themselves in mysticism"

There was a time when the Clan would have razed this whole community and burned every structure in the area to the ground in retaliation for such blasphemies, but the Elders had grown more...compromising, in recent years. If Tomi had his way he would kill Hirohumbi's neighbours, his drivers, his grocers, his friends. Everyone who even tacitly supported him, but he had his orders and now was not the time to challenge the Elders.

In any event Hirohumbi's motorcade soon rounded the corner, singalling the end of his wait and Tomi Shishido, called the Gorgon, rose and stretched his powerful limbs as he watched the fat man emerge from his official vehicle and nod curtly to the guards and he hurried inside the villa to escape the cold. Tomi's sneered in disgust as he looked into the man's mind. His thoughts were all of comforts, the delicacies he would soon be ingesting, the pornography he would soon be watching. The man was hardly worthy prey and Tomi resolved to finish this task quickly, if not cleanly.

The armed guards at the villa's gate were the first to fall. They collapsed, clutching at their open throats, their warm blood painting the snow. They never even knew what happened.

The interior guards died next. Murdered where they stood or sat. Not one man saw his attacker or reached for his weapon.

And so it went for several minutes as the Gorgon moved ghostlike through the sprawling villa complex, avoiding detection and methodically killing all occupants. Hirohumbi's wife and children were no exception. The two yong boys died in their beds. The woman would be found face down in front of her night stand with a slit throat and a comb clutched in her dead hand.

Before long the oblivious Hirohumbi was the last living person in the villa and the fat man seemed not to have a care in the world as he emerged from his bath, wrapped himself in an opulent robe and shuffled into his office. He took a seat behind his expensive desk and was about to turn his laptop computer on when he felt a sharp pain jab into his shoulder and let out a yelp of shock. His eyes shot to the area of pain to find a throwing knife lodged in his left shoulder, pinning him to his chair.

<"What?"> He whimpered as his eyes widened <"What is this?">

<"It is your death Hirohumbi-sama"> The Gorgon practically spat the honorofic as he emerged from the shadows in the corner of the room <"It is your well deserved fate.">

<"You? You're?! Oh God! HELP! HELP ME!!!!"> Hirohumbi screamed as he realized his situation and panic set in. <"HEL-ARRGH!!">

<"No one can hear you Hirohumbi-sama."> The Gorgon said as he slowly forced another knife into the Minister's other shoulder <"They're all dead. Your guards. Your servants.">

He leaned in close enough that he could smell the man's breath <"Your wife. Your children.">

<"Oh God. Oh God no! Please! Please I'm begging you!"> Hirohumbi blubbered. He was crying now, but not for his wife and children.

<"Interesting."> The Gorgon commented menancingly as he continued to hover close to the pertified wounded man <"You don't care that your family is dead. You never cared did you?">

<"Pleaase"> Hirohumbi pleaded.

<"No all you ever cared about was yourself. Your comfort. Your prestige"> The Gorgon continued, ignoring the man's cries for mercy <"Bad enough when a man of principles, a man with integrity stands against us. Such a man is a fool but at least he is an ethical fool. You? You are less than vermin. To one such as you the Hand is nothing more than a political card to be played.">

<"I- I'll stop the investigation! Recant my statements! Anything, just tell me what you want me to do!">

<"I want you to suffer"> The Gorgon replied as he pulled a small knife from his belt and opened up the fat man's gut. Close proximity to the man had made him reconsider his resolution from earlier. This killing would be neither clean nor quick.

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Previously

Spoiler

IC: Jim Gordon


GCPD Western District Headquarters
5:32 PM


There's an expression here in town. To some it's a motto, or a creed, or even a way of life. The cops like to use it a whole lot. The expression is the Gotham Way. It can mean a few things, but the best description of it is this: When life bites you in the ass, you turn around and bite it right back. You take whatever you're given, and you give it right back. You get knocked to the canvas, you get right back up and keep on punching. That's the Gotham Way.

I walk down the hallways of the Western, chatting to the few cops I know as I walk by. Most of them act like they don't know me. They wouldn't be caught dead talking to me. I hear all the nicknames, even if they don't think I do. St. James, Jimmy the Rat, James Choirboy. In their eyes, I'm a self-righteous stick in the mud who doesn't know know how hard it is for a real cop. There's a joke going around Central and the Districts. What's the difference between a gutter rat and James Gordon? One is a low-down, bottom feeding vermin. The other is a rat.

I can deal with their snide comments, I've become quite a target over the last year, so that comes with the territory. I've dealt with threats, blackmail, and beatings. I shrug them off and keep going. That's the Gotham Way. There's a change coming, I can feel it. With the help of the few allies I have inside the GCPD, and the one who operates outside the law, I know we can make this department a better place.

I take the stairs down to the basement. Hanging on the door to the basement is a piece of paper taped to it. "Major Crimes Unit - Quick Response Team." Walking into the basement, I see a burly man with a thick mustache. He's wearing work boots, blue jeans, and a flannel shirt.

"Tork."

"Hey, Captain," the sergeant says, reaching out to shake my hand. "Why are you slumming out here in the Western?"

"What do you say we take a ride?"

"What's wrong with the basement?"

"Ears have walls, Mike. Didn't take long for me to find that out. Where's the rest of your crew?"

"Done for the day. We got an early start in the middle of the night, raided a Maroni stash house. I sent them home a few hours ago. I was about to head that way myself."

"Let's go, then. I'm buying."

I take Tork to Mike's Bar halfway across town. It's not a cop bar, so there's almost no chance of us being overheard.

"So how is Montoya working out?" I ask Tork as he sips his beer.

"She's green. She has potential...but she's no DeWolff."

"Seem to recall you saying the same thing about her when she was put on your team."

"It's why I said she has potential. Anyway, she gets along great with Daz and Driver, follows orders, knows how to handle her nine, has a sharp eye, and a hell of a right cross. A meth cooker we busted the other week found the last fact out the hard way."

Tork and I drink in silence for a few minutes before I speak up.

"Tell me about that raid you did on that bookie last week."

"You read the report, Jim. It was totally ****ed from the get-go. Our goddamn CI lied to us. The house had been used as a bookie before we got there, but they were long gone by the time Daz pulled the Nova up to the house."

"You get any funny feelings from it?"

"More than a few. That was the first time that snitched had lied to us, he'd been reliable in the past. Also, I had Daz and Montoya do recon on the house a day before we busted them up. It was business as usual. I think the snitch told them what was going down before we knocked the door in. I don't know why, it makes no sense."

I take another sip of my beer and nod.

"Besides you and your team, who else knew about the raid beforehand?"

"Just the normal people involved in the chain of command. You, Captain Major, the ADA you got working with the MCU, and Lieutenant Flass."

"That's what I thought. I think there's a leak somewhere in that chain command."

"It's not an of my guys, persons? People? Any of my team."

"I have a good idea on who it is..."

"Flass, right?"

"Of course. I keep sending Internal Affairs my complaints, but they keep getting ignored. I think we need to take matters into our own hands."

"I don't know, Jim," Tork says with an uncomfortable look on his face. "Sure, there's a lot of smoke around Flass...but he's still another cop."

I bend forward and show Tork the back of my neck.

"See that scar tissue on the back of my neck? That was from surgery I had to have ten or so months ago when Flass and his buddies beat me with baseball bats. It fused two of the vertebrae in my spine. I laid there in the GCPD parking garage, beaten and bruised. Know what I did? I got up, tracked Flass down, and I returned the favor."

"The Gotham City Way," Tork mumbles as he takes a sip.

"And that's what we have to do. Flass has the commissioner's ear, the commissioner tells the IA Commander what to do. IA will never build a case against him or Loeb, so we have to build our own."

Flass and Loeb tired their damnedest to run me out of town. They took their shot, but they found out I was made of stronger stuff.

Time to see how well they stand up. They fired the opening salvo, now I'm returning fire.

That's the Gotham City Way.
​

IC: Jim Gordon

Gotham Central
10:16 AM

I sip my coffee as I stand in the empty Major Crimes squadroom, looking over the corkboard we have up on the wall. Tacked at the top of the board are the heads of Gotham's Four Families: Carmine Falcone, Salvatore Maroni, Hammerhead, and Ma Gnucci. The Gnucci Family is a shell of their former selves, with Ma doing ten to life upstate at the state prison for women. The family's de facto boss, Billy "The Beaut" Rosso, is pretty running the family on Falcone's orders. It was either bend a knee to Falcone, or be wiped off the streets by the stronger families.
The MCU's prolonged investigation- everything from wiretaps and surveillance, to undercover drug buys and money laundering investigations -has identified every major player involved in the Four Families. From Falcone's underboss Fat Tony Zucco, to Gnucci foot soldier Johnny LaMonica. Slowly but surely, the net is tightening around all of them. Soon, the GCPD will swing a sledgehammer right into the mob's back and cripple it for good.

"Uhh, captain?"

I turn to Soap and raise my eyebrows as I take a sip from my coffee cup. Martin Soap is a hump, that's the word around the Central and the Districts anyway. He comes from a family of cops, his old man was my squad sergeant when I started out in patrol, but just because he's in the family business doesn't mean he can do the same things that his father, uncles, and grandfather did. He shot himself in the hand when he was in patrol, just playing with his gun on a rainy night. He was on his way to washing out the PD when I offered him a job here, monitoring our wires and keeping all the paperwork organized. He's a reject and an outcast, like a lot of us who work in the MCU.

"An Officer Byrd is here to see you. He's in your office."

"Thanks, Martin."

I pat Soap on the shoulder and walk into my office, where a heavyset, middle aged black man in a patrolman's outfit is waiting for me.

"Mister Byrd," I say, shaking his hand as I come in. "Always wanted to meet you."

"Thank you, Captain."

I sit down behind the desk and motion for Byrd to sit on one of the chairs facing the desk.

"Yeah, I was just getting my start when you were kicking ass in the Detective Bureau. I heard all the stories about Blackbyrd. The Burton kidnapping you worked in '89? Stuff of legends."

"Yeah, well, sir...all those days are behind me," he says with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Call me Jim. I'm not your sir. Far as I can tell, you should be sitting in the big chair, not Loeb."

"Never had a taste for rank. I'm much more at home in the streets."

I nod and pull out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Byrd. He shakes me off and I light up a smoke.

"I understand. I feel the same way myself sometimes. Seems like my life was the happiest when I was a detective in homicide. None of the politics, or bureaucratic messes."

I stand up and motion for Byrd to follow me.

"Walk with me."

We go down to the parking garage adjacent to Gotham Central and get into my car. I crack a window to let the smoke drift out.

"Tell me about the summer of '95."

"It was hot, the Knights caught up to the Braves and won the pennant."

"What about the Schumacher bust? The Kraut Konnection?"

Byrd sighs and tugs at the collar of his uniform.

"It was in the papers, Jim. You were around then, you know the story."

"How many pounds of heroin and cocaine? Nearly a hundred a piece?"

"Two hundred," Byrd corrects. "A combined four hundred pounds of dope and blow on a ship anchored in the harbor, bunch of German smugglers were carrying it over here from the middle east."

"It was a record, I remember that. Nearly a half a billion dollars in drugs and weapons...and then it all vanished."

"Soon as I put it in the evidence locker, it disappeared," Byrd mumbles, his voice taking on a hard edge. "Nobody knew where it went...so somebody had to swing for it."

"You were their scapegoat. Charged you with, what? Conduct unbecoming or something?"

"Negligence and failure to do my duty...they gave me a choice of quitting or being kicked back to patrol, never to return to the Detective Bureau."

"And patrol is where you've stayed, for nearly sixteen years."

"Even running in drunks and helping out with the occasional bust is police work, more than I could do if I'd quit. What is all this about? You just want to tear open my old wounds and pour salt in them?"

"No. I'm here to give you another chance."

I reach into my pocket and pull out a small photo of a man in his official employee picture, decked out in his dress uniform.

"Who is this?"

"Lieutenant Arnold Flass. He was an officer in the evidence locker back in '95. He was on duty when you brought in the drugs from the Schumacher bust. Flass bought a new house in the burbs a year later, paid a hundred grand in cash. That's the biggest purchase he's made over the years, the rest of the money he quietly funneled into hidden bank accounts set up in his wife's name. There's nearly thirty accounts, all told some ten million dollars. I believe he stole the drugs and sold them back to the mob."

I tap the picture.

"You help me bring him down, and I'll bring you in from the cold."

Byrd looks at the picture, turning it in his hands.

"I don't know...I'm so close to my thirty year pension..."

"I'm offering you a chance at real police work, Byrd. A way to get back to being a real police. What do you say, is Blackbyrd still inside of you?"

He looks up and stares out the windshield, his eyes glazed over.

"What do you need me to do?"

 

[sumowrestler]

One weekday afternoon, Richard decides to go for a walk. As he travels, he is day dreaming of what to use his powers for and quickly finds himself in the bad part of the Bronx. He sees an elderly woman being mobbed by a group of thugs and he changes into the strange uniform that came with the powers. Before the elderly get beaten, he jumps in and starts tossing the thugs into trash cans and a dumpster. One of the thugs drops the purse they snatched from the elderly woman. She eyes him strangly and then gives him a big hug. Nova asks her if he could walk her home which she agrees to. He puts his arm around her to make sure she doesn't fall. Before he knows it, he is starting to float with the old woman who is now scared. It takes quite a bit of effort but he manages to get both of them back on the ground. They find her apartment and Nova opens the door for her.

"Thanks, young man, that was very kind of you to help out an old woman like you did. The flying thing was a little scary though but I guess some of you costume type do that sort of thing. I'm glad your kind is around once again because it seems that it is more then the police can do to handle what they can. This neighborhood could use more cops but the city says they can't afford it. Maybe you can help out in taking care of the gangs in this neighborhood."

"I'll consider that, ma'am. I do agree that the police are stretched rather thin and sadly when the city has to do budget cuts, the police seem to find their more then fair share of cuts."

"Just be careful, I don't want any of our new heroes getting hurt."

 

[Byrd Man]

​

I grab onto Scott and prop myself up. His words are miles away. I feel the power that was with me moments ago slipping from my body, returning me to the person I've always been. Part of my wants it back...

But another realizes that wasn't me. I wasn't in control of my body. The power took over. The power was driving me. Hell, it even seemed as if the power was talking for me.

"I don't know, Scott," I shake slightly. "I don't know."

Jean's weak and tired from...whatever just happened to her.

"Come on, we've got to keep fighting."

J'onn and Kitty are busy protecting the Congressmen against a flame wielding terrorist while Logan squares off with an equally furry opponent.

"Go left and help out J'onn and Kitty, I'll help Logan."

We split up and I go towards the two raging mutants, striking Logan's attacker and knocking him into the air.

"You look like you needed help," I say to Logan as I walk up to him.

 

[trustyside-kick]

OOC: Previously...
Black Bolt

Attilan.

The city has quite the history. The Skrull Empire holds many enemies. And just like there had been the Great Skrull-Thanagar War...there were the many conflcits between the Skrull and the Kree. The Kree, a proud race, was unlike their enemy Skrulls. They were proud because they had reached their peak...but that was their very problem because they could not reach a new one. Whereas the Skrulls were evolving and advancing in ways the Kree could only dream of.

So they found those who could make their dream a reality. Traveling to Earth, the Kree performed experiments on the then-primitive homo sapiens. The tests were successful and in the end were truly better than the Kree even dreamed of. However then the Guardians of the Universe intervened. The devastation throughout the cosmos from the Skull-Thanagar War was all the Guardians had to recall to make their decision on the experiments that the Kree were doing with the so called 'Inhumans'. With War between the Green Lantern Corps and Kree being the last resort, luckily the Kree heeded to the Guardian's call to stop all further experiments, and leave the Inhuman Society in peace.

The lab rats of the Kree on their own, the Guardians brought them to the Blue Area of the Moon per an understanding from Uatu The Watcher.

And thus, was the start, of the great city of Attilan.

Blackagar Boltagon has forever been a strong leader ever since he claimed the throne. There were struggles with his mad brother Maximus at times, but in the end he had successfully led his people with a quiet and gentle, rather than loud and rough, tone. However, the Dark Gods of Apokolips have declared war on the Inhuman Society. As to why? The Royal Family still does not know. The strike with the Hell Spores was a warning more than the wave of Apokolips' first true strike. As angered and disgruntled Inhumans went to meet their enemies outside the palace walls...they found no one.

"Do we really need to find out why the Dark Gods did this deed?! They tried to kill the king! We should bring the fight to their palace walls! An eye for an eye!"

"Cousin, before war with Apokolips should be truly declared we should speak with the New Gods of New Genesis."

"Our cousin Crystal speaks wisdom, Gorgon. New Genesis has much...experience in dealing with Apokolips. And perhaps, should they choose to remain neutral in this conflict, we can at least learn of some of the Dark God and his minions' weaknesses."

Karnark, along with the rest of the Royal Family, looks over at Black Bolt, who picks up Lockjaw's damaged toy out of the rubble in the Palace Throne Room. All it takes is one look, and Medusa, his queen, knows exactly what is on his mind. And she is slightly troubled by it.

"We, er...my husband shall consult with not just the wisdom of New Genesis...but with the very Quintessence themselves. I shall...remain here. And await his signal on what to do next."

Troubled only because she will not be going with him. Although she understands in the end why.
​

 

[bkhedr]

​

The Togakureryu
Headquarters of the Hand

The mountain air was sweet with the smell of cherry blossoms in bloom as the Gorgon stalked his way through the narrow unpaved pathways of the Togakurerye, home for centuries, to the Hand. Up here, high in the mountains and hidden from the world one could be excused for thinking that the warriors of the Hand were like normal men. Men who served their clan when duty and honor called and who returned to wives and children afterwards.

Nothing could be further from the truth. For despite the serenity of the scene, the natural beauty of the area, this remained a place of death and terror. There were young ones here and women to be sure, but no children, no wives, no mothers. Here all were warriors of the Hand. Servants of the Beast. It was the only home Tomi Shishido had ever known and he was made his way up a winding stone path cut into the side of a hill dominating this ancient place he could still see clearly in his mind's eye every drop of blood that had been spilled here, every severed limb, every life taken or willingly surrendered for the glory of the clan.

Two guards attired in the traditional red shinobi shozoku of the Hand, aknowledged him by lowering their heads slightly as he reached the top of the hill and came face to face with the ancient clan house where the Elders resided.

<"Welcome Lord Gorgon"> one of the guards said.

<"The Elders have been awaiting your arrival."> the second said as both moved in unison and pushed the aged wooden doors of the clan house open to usher the Gorgon inside.

There was no discernable difference between these two guards. It was not just their garb. Their voices and movements were identical.

The Gorgon walked past them without aknowledging them and the old doors creaked shut behind him, blocking out the light of the sun outside, and shrouding the interior of the clan house in an unnatural darkness.

Here there were no cherry blossoms, no illusion of peace. The only serenity here was the serenity of the crypt. The only smells were those of death and decay. The only light was what the few candles scattered about the chamber could muster in the darkness and even this seemed muted, as if fighting a losing battle against the encroaching darkness. The building was far larger on the inside than it was on the outside, adding to its dreadful effect.

The Gorgon had been in this place many times in his life and he instinctively knew to move to the center of the darkened chamber and drop smoothly to his knees with his hands on his lap. He did not have to wait long before the labored rasping breathing of the Elders penetrated the darkness.

There were three of them, three withered hideous old men, wrapped in tattered ancient robes. Despite their appearance, despite the sounds that emanated as their ragged lungs drew breath, the three moved smoothly, as if skating across the floorboards, as they emerged from the darkness and stood before the Gorgon, illuminated by the weak and pitiful light of the few candles around them.

<"Elders"> The Gorgon bowed his head slightly <"Command me that I might serve the Beast by serving you.">

It was a line he had recited many times but even now, after so many years, it still held meaning. This was no simple repetition. No simple custom. Like all servants of the Hand the Gorgon believed in the Beast and lived only to fulfill its dark wishes and bring death and terror to its enemies.

<"The Hand of the Beast accepts your servitude."> The middle Elder responded in the traditional manner

<"An ancient weapon of the Hand, long thought lost, has been rediscovered."> said the Elder to Tomi's left

<"The weapon was lost to us centuries ago and despite our best efforts we have been unable to locate it."> The Elder on the right added. <"Now it seems the weapon has been unearthed from its resting place in a ship sunk off the coast of Hawaii in the middle of the previous century. It will soon be going on display in a museum in New York city.">

<"You will claim it before that can happen."> The Elder on the left said

<"Go West, mighty Gorgon. Go to America and retrieve our weapon. The Beast has decreed that it shall be yours to wield for the glory of the Hand"> The Elder in the middle was speaking again. <"Waste no time. Take a cadre of Hand ninja with you and kill any who stand in your way.">

The Gorgon listened dutifully before raising his head for the first time since the Elders made their presence known.

<"What is this weapon?"> he asked, his steady voice betraying nothing of the anticipation he felt. The Elders were not men, not anymore and their minds were beyond his reach, but he already suspected that he knew what the answer would be and he had been waiting for this day for a long time.

<"It is the blade men call Grasscutter"> The middle Elder replied confirming the Gorgons suspicions

The Gorgon nodded <"It will be done.">