One Universe: Season IV IC Thread

[Catman_prb]

"Aaaaaaaaah!"

I wake up to my dark room.​

"Holy crap."​

Johnny Storm, how do you get yourself into these messes?​

​

"Is that Johnathan?" Koriand'r said, stirring at the brown gloop in the bowl in front of her with her spoon.

"Sounds like he was having a bad dream," Jamie muttered through a sleepy haze, buttering a few slices of toast.

"What is this?" Koriand'r said, in the exact same tone as before, lifting her spoon with the gloop on it.

"That's muesli," Jamie said "Some people think it's food,"

The alien princess made a disgusted face and pushed the bowl away "Well I do not,"

Jamie glared as the orange-skinned beauty as she grabbed a slice of his toast and stuffed it into her mouth in one go. She sighed through a full mouth.

"There is so much I do not understand about this world James," Koriand'r said, hovering over by his shoulder expectantly.

"Listen princess, if you try that kiss-mind-meld thing again, I will lock myself in my room for the next twenty four hours," Jamie muttered, leaning away from her.

Koriand'r sat down heavily on her seat and pouted.​

 

[The Manly Torch]

Clayface​

A silver Chevy Malibu stopped in front of a nice, two-story, blue house, with irises growing in front of the roofed porch. Karlo stepped out and placed a black, leather boot upon the sidewalk. He stopped and looked over the close-cropped lawn, the still porch swing, and the clean slatted walls. He casually approached the door and knocked three times before stepping back and placing his hands behind his back. When the door opened, he smiled.

“Basil? Is that you?”

“Yes, dear sister.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I assume that this is a rhetorical question.”

Karlo removed an envelope from inside his jacket and presented it to her.

“Didn’t I tell you,” he spoke quietly, “That I was going to take care of you, no matter what? No bars, loony bin, or righteous vigilante can hold me.”

“When I’d heard that you got out, I feared the worst.”

Karlo frowned. He still held the envelope extended to her.

“I told you it was an accident!” his voice was abruptly louder. “He got right in my way! I wasn’t trying to kill him, for God’s sake. You think I want you to be alone? You think I want you to support those children all by yourself?”

“Well,” she replied. “Yes. I mean, no. But I know you didn’t like him. You’d rather it be you than him.”

“I would be lying,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “If I told you I approved, but he was your choice, after all. I cannot force you to choose whomsoever I prefer. It is your decision, and yours alone. Father could not see that.”

“But Father did see you. After what happened to you. He didn’t want to, but there was no escaping it.”

“I had to accept your man! Now you have to accept me! Tit for tat!”

“You didn’t accept him, you murdering bastard!”

Karlo breathed in sharply, and slapped the envelope against her chest.

“Now you take this, and you feed your family! I don’t care if you don’t or do like me. Just because I was imprisoned inside a mental institution…”

“For criminals.”

He grabbed the nape of her neck and held her face against his, staring her in the eyes.

“I was forced into this, you insufferable ingrate,” he hissed. “Through years upon years of God’s cold spurn! Have you forgotten the day that I—”

“Save it,” she breathed. “I don’t want to see you. Please leave. And take your dirty money with you.”

“Oh, you’ll keep the money, and you’ll accept everything I reward you, lest I feel you deserve worse.”

She blinked, fear replacing her anger. He held her gaze steadfast, giving the smallest of nods, as to confirm his threat. She hesitantly took the envelope from his hand and stepped back inside, slamming the door. He stood there for three minutes before he turned, and returned to his car.

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Sarah and I stand outside the interrogation room. All of Two-Face's people except for a few have been taken in. Driver, Cole, and Fields are sweating the low-level drug players, Bullock, Allen, and a few FBI agents are grilling LaMonica, while Montoya and Sawyer take a go at Robbins.

That leaves Sarah and I with the tip-top.

"You ready?"

"Let's do it. Remember, we need to find out who their supplier is and who's washing their dirty money."

I open the door and walk in.

Tiiiing................................ thap.

"Hello, Jim."

I sit across the table from Harvey. Sarah stands off to my right.

"How's it going, Two-Face?"

"What happened to Harvey?"

"I like to think Harvey Dent, the man I knew and was friends with, died when Sal Maroni threw acid in his face. Ever think about that day?"

"Sometimes. When I'm having a weak moment, I'll wish Maroni would have just killed me. Then I realize it was all for the better."

"I wonder if Gilda would feel the same way."

I see Two-Face's eye flash with anger.

"Heh. I've been reading on some current events. Saw the article in the paper today. Guess who's been accused of manipulating the crime stats the GCPD puts out?"

"And I suppose you find it funny?"

"Just a little bit. I mean, think about it. You, me, and Batman set out to change this city. We brought Maroni down, sure. But he manipulated the system and eluded justice. That was when I came in and forced justice through his head. Your justice wasn't strong enough to do the job, but my justice left a neat little entry wound on his forehead and splattered his brains all across the wall."

"Are you confessing to the murder of Salvatore Maroni?"

"Sure, but let me finish. I'm branded a criminal, as bad as the scum I killed. You pick up your sword and go on a crusade to stop me, but step on some toes of the power structure on your way. You've finally caught me, but what good does it do? In a week, someone else will be setting up shop and running drugs on my old corners. For your investigation into the money trail, you're going to lose your job. And me? I'm going to a padded cell in Arkham. You do the right thing and get punished. Hell of a town, isn't it?"

"Tell me about the people supplying your outfit with drugs."

"Nope. Doctor is going to rule me as insane. I don't think information from a crazy man will help your case."

"What about the PIs you hired to find Gilda?"

"What?"

"Yeah. You kept feeding Slam Bradley enough money, trying to find Gilda. Did he ever give you a complete report?"

"What do you know?"

"I have the file in my office. You start talking about your crimes, then I'll start talking about GIlda."

"I got a better idea."

Two-Face holds up his coin.

"We'll let fate decide. Heads, I go along with your deal. Tails, I don't tell you a thing."

Tiiiing

I watch the coin fly into the air, spinning so fast it's a metallic blur.

Thap!

Removing his hand away, the scarred side of the coin is looking up at me.

"That's it. You can take me to my cell now."

"You're not getting off that easy. The DA will fight to see that you're mentally competent to stand trial!"

I stand up and slap my hands on the table. "You're not getting away that easy!"

"I am getting away that easy."

Two-Face stands up and looks at Sarah.

"You can take me back to my cell, Captain. I believe someone from Arkham is waiting for me."

I nod at Sarah. She takes Harvey by the arm and leads him out the room. He stops and turns to look at me before he leaves.

"I warned you, Jim. I told you to stay out of my way. You played the game and you lost. All your best efforts, will prove to be futile. Hurts, doesn't it? Maybe now you'll know how I felt. Maybe now you'll understand why I did everyone a favor and put Maroni out of his misery."

He calmly walks out the room. Sarah shuts the door behind him, leaving me alone. I look down at the ground and then up at the ceiling. Clinching my fists until the knuckles have turned white, I finally kick away the metal chair in frustration.

He's right, damn it. Right about it all.

Even through the interrogation room's thick walls, I can hear that unmistakable sound.

Tiiiing................................ thap.

 

[Eddie Brock]

"Is that Johnathan?" Koriand'r said, stirring at the brown gloop in the bowl in front of her with her spoon.

"Sounds like he was having a bad dream," Jamie muttered through a sleepy haze, buttering a few slices of toast.

"What is this?" Koriand'r said, in the exact same tone as before, lifting her spoon with the gloop on it.

"That's muesli," Jamie said "Some people think it's food,"

The alien princess made a disgusted face and pushed the bowl away "Well I do not,"

Jamie glared as the orange-skinned beauty as she grabbed a slice of his toast and stuffed it into her mouth in one go. She sighed through a full mouth.

"There is so much I do not understand about this world James," Koriand'r said, hovering over by his shoulder expectantly.

"Listen princess, if you try that kiss-mind-meld thing again, I will lock myself in my room for the next twenty four hours," Jamie muttered, leaning away from her.

Koriand'r sat down heavily on her seat and pouted.​

"Morning, campers," I grumble as I step into the kitchen. I look at Jamie who gives me something along the lines of a grimace. I then glance at Koriand'r, barely able to look at her after my dream.

I stumble over to the kitchen cabinet, nearly knocking over several boxes before finally finding the Honey Nut Cheerios. "I hope everyone slept well," I announce drowsily. Opening the fridge, I don't see the milk carton.

"Hey, did either of you--?"

Turning my head, I see the carton sitting in front of Koriand'r.

"...see the milk," I mumble. I carry my bowl of Cheerios over the table, plopping down across from Jamie. I pick up the milk carton, but it's empty. "Koriand'r, did you drink all the milk?"

Smiling brightly, our resident alien princess nods. "Yes. It was quite refreshing."

"Perfect."

It's going to be one of those mornings.

 

[Carnage27]

"Earth to Peter. Come in, Peter," Gwen chuckles as she slides in next to me at the lunch table. "What's wrong? You seem seriously out of it."

I look up at her and smile, "Oh, you now, finals are coming up. And our college letters should be coming any day now. I don't know just a lot on my mind."

It's a lie, but it's a dang good one. What do I really have on my mind? Well, the fact that I've just rescued an alien princess and have her held up with my superhero teammates, along with the fact that I haven't heard from Goblin in almost two weeks. That worries me much more than the latter. He had been constantly attacking me for quite a while, or at least sending his goons after me.

But to suddenly go so quiet. It's not like him. And when he does something that surprises even me...well, that cannot be good.

"Well, we'll have to get your mind off things. How 'bout we hang out tonight? Just me (Yes!) and you (Yes!), and some episodes of Firefly (Yes!)."

I love this girl.

"Sounds amazing."

 

[Keyser Soze]

Odin - father of Thor, and King of Asgard - sat alone in his throne room, as he was inclined to spend much of his time doing. At this moment, he was thinking about what a burden it was to be thought of as All Seeing and All Knowing. Humans are under the impression that those who they know as the "Norse gods" are immortal, but that is not the case. Odin could remember being a boy, and could remember being a lusty young man without a care in the world. He could remember when his father Bor was the All Seeing, All Knowing king. But now Odin was old. He felt so old, ancient.

He had been King for a long time, long enough to learn the great secret his father never told him. Nothing changes when you take that crown and become the "All-Father". Yes, you acquire more power, and yes, you have access to more resources of knowledge (such as Odin's two trusty ravens), but you didn't suddenly become a perfect, benevolent God as the people of Midgard once assumed when they chose to worship him. The doubts, the flaws.... they don't go away. You are still the same stubborn, bullheaded fool you always were, only now you are supposed to be perfect, and everyone thinks that you know all and that you have all the answers. And you have to play the part, lest you disappoint...

Odin had grown tired of the facade. He longed for the great halls of Valhalla. But he could not go yet. Not until his son was ready to take his place, and protect the glory of Asgard.

"Father, so good to see you!"

Loki strode into Odin's throne room as if he had been invited. And behind him was none other than Donald Blake, mortal host to Thor.

"You may have noticed the mischief I have been perpetrating in your precious Midgard, father. I figured that if Thor desires to play happy families, I would give it a try too. I am surprised at your lack of reaction, to be honest. I thought you would have...heh heh.... summoned me here in a rage to heap abuse upon my lowly head..."

"Loki, take your leave. I wish to have words with my son... in private."

Loki concealed it well under a mask of indifference, but there was the briefest flicker of hurt when Odin utered the words "my son". With a smile and a nod, he departed from the chamber.

"Why does Thor maintain his disguise when he is home, amongst family? Depart, Donald Blake, and let me speak with my son."

Donald Blake shook his head.

"It's not Thor that wants to speak to you. It's me."

Odin let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

"You? What would a man of Midgard have to say to Odin All-Father?"

"I need to know. What Loki said, about me not being real, about you just creating me as a shell for Thor to inhabit.... it's not true, is it? He's playing tricks on my mind, he... he's made me forget my past, or something, he..."

"No. For once, Loki Laufeyson speaks the truth. I created you."

In his heart, Donald Blake already knew this to be true. But hearing it confirmed made his throat tighten and his lips tremble. All that he knew, all that he was... it was a lie. He was nothing.

"No, I.... I can't be! I eat food, I sleep, I... I'm in love. I'm a Christian, I pray to God, the real one, and you're saying he doesn't even listen because I'm not his!? I'm yours, I'm a figment of your imagination! I'm not real!"

"You are real, Donald Blake. You think, you feel, and as you say, you love. You are as real as any other living being, as human as anyone else on Midgard. Does it really matter how long you have been real for, or how you came into this world? Your God has as much reason to listen to you as anyone else. If you must, think of it as Him 'working in mysterious ways', that is what you mortals say, yes?"

It was so simple to Odin, so easy for him to dismiss the petty agony of the plaything he decided to make one day. Blake stared at him, his whole body shaking with anger, hate and despair.

"Why did you do it? I never needed to have existed, Thor could have just used this body as a disguise like he was doing before you gave me memories and feelings. Why did you give me a soul? How could you be so cruel?"

Odin snorted derisively.

"Boy, you know not of cruelty, so do not speak of it. I grow impatient. Let me speak to my son."

Donald Blake didn't know cruelty, did he? He decided to show Odin how cruel he could be. He shook his head.

"No."

Odin was astonished.

"No?"

"No. Thor doesn't want to talk to you."

"This is nonsense! I will speak with my son this instant! Do you not know who you are trifling with!? I order you to summon Thor!"

"I know exactly what you are. You are a bitter old man who is afraid of dying alone, and you want your son to forgive you before you die, and be by your side when the end comes. Not going to happen. I won't let it."

And strangely, Odin fell quiet.

"My son. Please..... I would speak with my son."

Tears brimming in his eyes, Donald Blake shook his head one more time.

"No."

He turned and limped out of the throne room. Odin could have forced him to stay, compelled him to transform into Thor. Or with a single thought, Odin could have simply nullified Donald Blake out of existence, as easily as he'd brought him into existence. But instead he sat in silence, and let the man walk away. He had done enough damage. Perhaps he did not deserve to see his son.

Loki and Donald Blake's journey to Midgard was taken in silence, with Loki reverting to the form of the child Tom upon his return to Earth. Finally, he spoke to Blake.

"So did you enjoy the father/son chat? Quite the family you have inherited..."

KRAKADOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

In a flash, Blake had transformed into Thor, and grabbed the child by the throat.

"You parasite! I shall tell Jane Foster about what you really are, and you shall be cast out from our lives!"

"I would not recommend that, brother," Loki gasped, struggling to breath under the chokehold, "Jane has become quite attached to the idea of having a son. She loves me. Ask her yourself, you will see it. If you tell her the truth... it will destroy her. Can you be that cruel?"

Reluctantly, Thor let Loki go.

"Smart, dearest brother. Sometimes it is best to lie."

"Do not call me brother," Thor spat, "It sickens me to even look at you!"

Thor launched himself into the air. He needed to get away. He needed to think. He needed to hit something really hard...

 

[Eddie Brock]

THE JOKER

Harleen Quinzell came home after another long day working with Homicide. The Joker had struck again, this time brutally disfiguring a reputable surgeon. Preliminary reports suggested that Dr. Amar would likely never be able to speak again. Harleen tried to shake the disturbing images of his tongueless mouth from her mind. Interestingly enough, though, the Joker did not kill the doctor. Harleen struggled to understand this, much as she had strugged to understand any of the Joker's moves to this point.

Madness, she thought to herself. Just plain madness.

Harleen entered her apartment, flicked on the lights, and tossed her keys onto the side table by the door. With a tired sigh, she removed her jacket and hung it on the back of the door. For the rest of the night, she was going to force herself to stop thinking of the Joker. Maybe she'd curl up in bed and catch up on Glee.

"Hello, Harleen," called a sickeningly sweet voice as she turned the corner into her bedroom. Gasping, Harleen came face-to-face with the Harlequin of Havoc for the very first time. A million thoughts raced through Harleen's mind, but she didn't have time to process any of them before a gloved hand grabbed her mouth from behind.

As the Joker smiled, there was a HISSSS of gas, and Harleen blacked out.

***

When Harleen woke, she was dazed.

"I'm tErriBLy sorry aBOut ThAt, Miss QuiNzEll. I forGEt how jArrINg my asSociAte'S FeaR GAs caN be at fIRrst."

Harleen jumped, but something held her back. Looking up, she could see that she was handcuffed to her bed. Kicking wildly, she discovered that her legs were tied down, too. The haunting disfigured form of the Joker moved to the side of her bed, dragging a chair across the carpet. With a look to the bedroom door, he nodded at Scarecrow, and the latter man slipped out into the living room.

"Do you recognize the handcuffs?" the Joker asked, the Fear Gas' effect slipping. Harleen was still terrified. "I found them in your closet. But I'm getting ahead of myself. We'll get to that in a minute." The Joker reached out and softly patted Harleen's knee. Her entire body spasmed in fear.

"Dr. Harleen Quinzell. Do you mind if I call you 'Harley?'" The Joker looked at his captive pleasantly. "You've been following me for quite some time. And I've been following you for quite some time, too."

Harleen's wrists were getting raw from her constant struggling.

"You captivated me from the first moment I saw you. I pictured myself dragging your dead body through a field of flowers. Holding a plastic bag over your head at a drive-in movie theater. Standing with you at the edge of the Grand Canyon and pushing you off!"

The Joker paused to laugh maniacally.

"I knew - I just knew - that I had to kill you," the madman explained. "Until I did, my life would not be complete. Foods lost their taste. Flayings barely held my attention. Colors seemed less...colorful." With a gloved hand, the Joker brushed a lock of hair out of Harleen's face. "I dreamed of your last moments, of the joy I would feel as your tight, warm body went limp in my arms."

Scarecrow was pacing impatiently in the other room, but Harleen couldn't take her terrified eyes off the Joker.

"But while I was waiting for you here tonight, I decided to take a look around," he continued. "And I was surprised by what I found."

Standing up and kicking over the chair he was sitting in, the Joker made his way over to Harleen's closet. Yanking dramatically on the pull-chain hanging from the light inside, he looks back at Harleen and grins.

"At first glance, this all looked very bland. Pantsuit, pantsuit, pantsuit. Gray, grayer, grayest. But oh! What's this?" The Joker pulls out a pinstriped outfit, a tight-fitting suit jacket and a low-cut skirt. "Little Miss Modest has a naughty side." Discarding the outfit, the Joker pulls out another revealing dress. "Did you wear these to work? Hmm? Did you like the way the guards looked at you?"

The Clown Prince of Crime leans forward for emphasis.

"The way your patients, the inmates looked at you?"

Dropping the dress, the Joker digs back into the closet once more.

"But this was just the tip of the iceberg, wasn't it, Harley? Upon closer examination, I found a box. I said to myself, 'So what, J? It's just a box.' But it's not just a box, is it, Harley?!" The Joker's voice is more energetic now. "Here I thought you were an attention ****e, but the truth is..."

Pulling out the box in question, the Joker throws it into the air. Its contents spill all over the floor next to Harleen's bed. Handcuffs, costumes, whips, leather, video tapes.

"You're just a regular ****e! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Harleen quivered now, embarrassed, exposed, and more than anything else anxious. The Joker had already expressed his desire to kill her, and Harleen had seen the crime scene photos. She knew that she could expect a gruesome, painful death. She only wished he'd get it over with.

Picking up a black and red checkered outfit, the Joker remarks, "I like this little number in particular." He slinks over to the bed. "Maybe you'll wear it for me? Heh." Drawing his knife and grabbing Harleen by the throat, the Joker leans in closer. "You excite me, Harley. You interest me. And most of all, you make me laugh! So I guess my point is that I don't know how or when I'm going to kill you, but I suggest you keep me entertained in the meantime."

The Joker snaps his fingers, and Scarecrow steps into the room. Harleen hears that HISSSS again, and everything goes dark.
​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

14 hours.

That's how long I have left as the Gotham Police Commissioner. It's all over the news. Mayor Hill is calling a press conference tomorrow at noon. Pretty much everyone knows he'll be relieving me of my command and appointing Grogan Acting Commissioner. Grogan made his play, blamed the bogus crime stats on me, and got what his wanted.

I'm not without my supporters, though. Artie Agee from the Gazette is forming a petition to keep my job. It won't do much good, but I appreciate the support. The press keep calling my house, wanting statements and speculation. I sent Barbara over to her friend's for the night, she's already having a tough enough time as it is. No need to drag my problems into it.

Right now, I'm getting used to my future job: sitting on the couch and watching TV. Sarah's sitting in the recliner across the room.

"I just cant' believe it," she says with a shake of her head. "We take Two-Face down and you get punished for it. I am so sorry, Jim."

"It's my fault, Sarah. I was a fool for thinking I could change Gotham. Harvey and I were both dreamers. Look how we ended up. He's in Arkham, and I'm in the unemployment line."

"You know, you can still change things. If you release the information we found out about Hill's campagin contributions...."

"I don't want to stoop to their level. It was Grogan and Flass that did this, I just can't tie it to them."

"Give me some time, I can find out if they did it."

I nod. After a long silence, Sarah stands up and crosses the room to sit down on the couch next to me. I scoot over uncomfortably.

"So....I guess this'll be your last few hours as police commissioner."

"Yeah. I don't know what's going to happen to you and the MCU. They were pushing me to shut down when I was commissioner, you know Grogan will bury you and the squad."

"Screw 'em. They chew you up, they gotta spit you back out sometime. This is only temporary. You'll be back."

"I wish I had you confidence."

Sarah inches closer to me. I pull at my necktie and clear my throat.

"You know, when I was promoted to captain, everyone thought it was because of you."

"I was because of me. Next to George Stacy, you're the best detective I've ever worked with."

"No, Jim, they said I was promoted to captain because of something I did for you...or two you."

I tug at my glasses, willing my face not to blush. I fail.

"I was still married at the time. And, as police commissioner, we would be violating GCPD rules and regs by dating."

"Well, let's see. You're divorced and will be unemployed come tomorrow....so..."

Sarah begins to lean towards me. I look her in the eyes, my heart thumping loudly.

"Is there something you're trying to tell me, Captain?"

"Pretty much what I've been trying to tell you for months now. And I thought you used to be a detective."

We lean in towards each other, my eyes close as my moustache tickles Sarah's upper lip and my lips begin to close in on hers....

BAD BOYS, BAD BOYS! WHATCHA GONNA DO, WHATCHA GONNA DO WHEN THEY COME FOR YOU?!

My cellphone's ringtone makes me jump a few inches in the air. Pulling it out my pocket, I flip my cellphone open.

"This better be a serious police emergency."

"Commish, it's Sergeant Merkel. We've got a problem."

"Merkel, where are you?"

"215 O'Neil Avenue. I need you to get here ASAP."

"Sergeant, what's this about?"

"The profiler from Arkham, Quinzell, was kidnapped an hour ago by the Joker."

"What?! How do you know? Are you sure?"

"He called it in to Central and left a nice little note behind at Quinzell's house. Commish, we need you here."

"On my way."

I close the phone, looking at Sarah. "The Joker nabbed a psychatrist from Arkham."

"Let me go."

I nod, getting up off the couch and taking my service weapon off the coffee table. I check the clock on the wall. This just might be Jim Gordon's last hurrah.

13 hours and 50 minutes.​

 

[wiegeabo]

I lean forward, not quite sure I heard what I just heard. "You...need my help?"

"I do. It is not an...easy thing for me to admit, that I need assistance. But I believe you're expertise would be invaluable to my nation and others."

"I see..." I say slowly, not actually understanding what he means at all.

Even though I can't see it, I'm sure Doom is smiling slightly under his mask at my confusion. "Let me clarify." Doom stands up, and starts pacing around the room slowly as he talks, looking at each object he passes as if it was one of the most interesting of things in the world. "I am scared of very few things in this world, Mr. Garrick. But one thing that does bring me fear is something happening to my nation, and my people."

"And you think something is going to happen soon?"

Doom turns to face me. "I do, Mr. Garrick."

Pieces start falling into place. "You're afraid of President Luthor."

"I most certainly am not!" Doom says, more loudly then he probably intends. He regains his composure. "I am not afraid of Luthor. But it is what he can do that worries me."

"And that would be?"

"Khandaq."

I lean back in my chair, realization finally dawning on me. "Luthor used Black Adam as an excuse to go after Khandaq and use the Avengers and his Sentinels. His 'implication' of Latveria after Stamford makes you think he'll do the same to you and yours."

"And now you understand."

I nod slowly. "I understand your concern, yes. But...I don't understand why you came to the Justice League. You want us to...what? Protect Latveria?"

"No, I do not. I doubt there is anyway your League could effectively protect your nation as well as mine."

"It would stretch us pretty thin..."

"Indeed. And the citizens of my nation and others would have a difficult time trusting your League. At best, they would deem you outsiders, at worst, you would be seen as Luthor's underlings."

"Wait, backup a step. Other nations?"

"That is why I am here, Mr. Garrick. I want you to come back with me. I want you to help recruit and put together a Justice League: Europe."

"Justice League...Europe?"

If it wasn't for who was asking me to do this, I'd think this was a sound idea. In fact, despite the idea coming from Doom, it has a lot of merit. Besides the obvious outcome of giving a band of heroes the resources to protect Europe together, it could provide a method checks and balances. A way to keep tabs on international threats like Black Adam, and even Doom. And it might help strike against Luthor's plans for superhuman registration. My identity is public, but there are many heroes who keep theirs secret for good reason. How would it look to the people if Luthor, president of the land of freedom, kept a police state-like watch on his heroes, while other countries did not.

"You are taking a good deal of time considering the issue, Mr. Garick. I take it to mean that my suggestion has merit?"

"I have to admit, Doctor. It does indeed. But I have a couple of questions."

"Of course. The answer to the first is that the team would remain autonomous, like yours. Just because I am asking for your help to create our own League, does not necessarily mean I would run it."

"You're a mind reader?"

"No. I am just one of the most intelligent men on the planet."

"Ah. And what about my second unasked question?"

Doom nods. "Yes, I have ideas for possible members."

My eyes widen in surprise. "You're good."

"A fact that I am well aware of. So, do we have a deal, Mr. Garrick? Will you help me put together what may become the first leg of an international League?"

"Second leg," I say with a wink. "I need to talk it over with some people first."

"Completely understandable. Would a day suffice?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Very well. I will take my leave then." I escort Doom to the door. He stands there with his hands behind his back until I open it for him.

Royalty, I think with a smirk. "I'll have an answer by noon."

"I will be here. Until tomorrow, Flash."

I close the door and lean against it. What am I getting myself into?

 

[wiegeabo]

"That's odd," I say as I look up from the list. "I remember Tony and SHIELD had a massive falling out a few months ago over some equipment of his they stole. Maybe the tech they used was Stark equipment they had in stock? Whatever the reason, I'm a 100% certain Tony has no idea what was going on. I talked to Reed Richards and Clark Kent interviewed Just Hammer. Reed had no idea his inventions would be used for this, and Hammer is too much of a loud-mouth to be involved in a government conspiracy. He'd shout it from the rooftops."

"Reed's reaction doesn't surprise me. Despite his intelligence, he's one who would give the government the benefit of the doubt. And I doubt Stark's involvement as well. If he's faking his hatred of Luthor and SHIELD, then he's the best actor the world has ever seen. And he's no Robert Downey Jr." Superman gives me a strange look. I shrug.

"I liked the Sherlock Holmes movie."

 

[Byrd Man]

"Reed's reaction doesn't surprise me. Despite his intelligence, he's one who would give the government the benefit of the doubt. And I doubt Stark's involvement as well. If he's faking his hatred of Luthor and SHIELD, then he's the best actor the world has ever seen. And he's no Robert Downey Jr." Superman gives me a strange look. I shrug.

"I liked the Sherlock Holmes movie."

".....Right," I say with an arched eyebrow. "Anyway. What's our next move? Do we give this information to the news, or do we take it to the White House and bring it to Luthor's doorstep?"

 

[Eddie Brock]

THE JOKER

Poison Ivy looks disapprovingly at the unconscious body of Dr. Harleen Quinzell. "It was a mistake bringing this girl here," Ivy remarks, her face contorted in something resembling compassion. She admires the girl's beauty and regrets that she was drawn into this madness. "The police will undoubtedly be looking for her. You've jeopardized us all."

The Joker frowns at Ivy contemptuously. "I know what I'm doing, Pamela. Your input is not required," he snaps, his tone laced with venom. Hoping down from his makeshift throne - actually nothing more than an old armchair - the Joker dances over to Harleen's body, smiling gleefully. "Our good doctor here may be the only person in Gotham - besides Batman, of course - who can understand me."

The Joker turns, grinning from ear to ear.

"So imagine how the Commish and his people will feel when I deliver her to their doorstep. Her mind broken, lost to the very madness she wanted so badly to comprehend." He gently strokes Harleen's cheek. "Irony."

"Two-Face has been arrested. His empire is being dismantled," Scarecrow speaks up suddenly. "Shouldn't we be thinking about that, instead?"

The Joker smiles distantly, as if recalling a pleasant memory. "Ah, yes. That deserves addressing." Turning his attention away from Harleen, the Joker faces his two colorful associates. "When I sprung you three - and it wouldn't kill Karlo to check in every now and then - from Arkham, it was for one expressed purpose: to help topple Scarry Harvey's empire."

The Joker begins to pace.

"Now, I don't know that we had much to do with it, I'm afraid," the Joker muses. "Sure, we had some fun, raised some Hell, and helped revive the age of supercrime in Gotham, but ultimately our efforts were too disorganized to affect Harvey." The Joker smirks. "Now, you know me. I'm all for disorganized, but I think in this case, it's necessary to simply tip our caps to the fine folks down at the MCU."

The Joker pauses to tip an imaginary cap at the air.

Clearing his throat, he continues, "Since our only reason for joining forces is now kaput, I think it's in everyone's best interests to dissolve this alliance." Waving a dismissive hand, the Joker says, "Pamela, you can go back to your gardening. Crane, you can help Dorothy get to the Emerald City. I don't particularly care." Turning on his heels, the Joker looks back down at Harleen. "I've got my next project lined up."

"If it wouldn't leave such a bad taste in my mouth, I'd say it was a pleasure," Poison Ivy snorts.

The Joker throws Harleen over his shoulder and skips over to a parked van. Casually tossing Harleen's body inside, the Joker slams the doors shut and spins to face Ivy and Scarecrow once more. "Oh! One last thing: you might want to relocate because the GCPD may have received an anonymous tip about this hiding spot."

A helicopter can be heard approaching in the distance. "You son of a *****! You sold us out!"

Blowing kisses as he hops into the van, the Joker announces, "Ta-ta, darlings! Until we meet again!"
​

 

[Byrd Man]

12 Hours Left

"Sorry, Commissioner," Captain Branden says as he comes out of the warehouse. "Ivy managed to slip away, but SWAT was able to detain Crane and remove the booby traps on his person without serious damage."

"Any sign of Joker or Quinzell?"

"No, sir."

I shake my head and sigh. "That'll be all for now, Captain. You and your men head back to Central. You're on stand-by until I say so."

"Yessir."

SWAT pulls back, allowing Sarah and I to process the scene. Whoever made the tip was dead on, but a little bit too slow. Joker and Ivy escaped, no signs of Clayface, and Crane is already halfway back to Arkham.

"I see traces of plants," Sarah says as she bends down on the warehouse floor. "Maybe we can-"

"Another time. Dr. Quinzell and Joker are priorities at the moment."

I walk away from her, investigating a pair of skid marks on the concrete floor. Tough to tell what kind of vehicle it was. Bigger than a sports car, but smaller than a transfer truck. Like that narrows it down. Beside the skid mark is a piece of candy. Salt water taffy.

"Sarah! Give me the radio!"

Essen arches her eyebrow and hands me the walkie-talkie. "10-01 to 10-06."

"10-06 here. Go ahead, 10-01" Branden chirps back.

"What's your twenty?"

"On the way to Central as ordered, 10-01."

"Get to the boardwalk now."

"The abandoned boardwalk, Sir?"

"Yes, Branden. Get SWAT there ASAP. Priority target could be present."

"10-4."

Branden goes offline and Sarah turns to me.

"You know all that from some taffy?"

"It's old taffy, Sarah. The boardwalk has been closed down for years now. I remember this kind. I got Barbara a bunch of it when we went down to the boardwalk for her sixth birthday. She ate so much she got sick on it."

"But, Jim...a clue this obvious? Joker has to be setting a trap for us."

"It doesn't matter. Doctor Quinzell's life is in danger. We have to find her."

Sarah nods.

"Let's go."
​

 

[Eddie Brock]

THE JOKER

"Taffy?"

Dr. Harleen Quinzell stares wide-eyed at the Clown Prince of Crime. Her mouth is gagged, her cheeks stained with runny mascara. Her wrists and ankles are raw from struggling against her restraints. The will to fight is fading, but the terror certainly isn't. She's in the presence of a madman, and this time it isn't from the safety of Arkham's walls.

Smiling devilishly as he chews, the Joker explains, "It's to die for. I get it from this little place down by the boardwalk. Maybe you know it?" His grin widens. "Business is booming." Though they're the only two people around, the Joker leans in and whispers, "Between you and me, I think it's going to go up in smoke soon."

The Joker hops down from his stool, waltzing over to his prisoner.

"They'll never find you, you know. I have hiding places set up all over this city, including this quaint little hole," he explains. Harleen looks around, but she can find no distinguishing features in the dimly lit room. She could be anywhere. "But since we'll be sticking around for a while, why don't I show you around?"

Harleen whimpers as the Joker grabs the back of her chair, dragging it across the wooden floor. After a few seconds of this, the Joker stops suddenly, causing Harleen to lurch under her restraints.

"Ta-daaaa!"

Harleen looks around, but all she sees is darkness, expanding as far as the eye can see.

"Heh. Right, give me a second," the Joker mutters. He dashes off, and a moment later, Harleen hears a switch being flipped.

Blinding lights flash on, making Harleen's eyes burn. It takes a few seconds, but finally her eyes adjust. She stares out at row after row of red velvet seats. They're worn with age and lack of use. Looking down, Harleen sees a ledge. Her foot dangles haplessly over a dark pit.

A theater. He brought her to a theater.

"Ta-daaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

The Joker slips behind Harleen, removing her gag carefully. After nearly hyperventilating, Harleen finally gets to ask the question that's been on her mind for hours. "W-what do you want from me?"

The Joker spins her chair around, and for a moment Harleen worries that she's going to tip over and fall into the orchestra pit. Grinning from ear to ear, the Joker says, "You're the doc, Doc. You tell me!" Laughing childishly, the Joker kicks out Harleen's chair. Just when she's about to fall off the edge, he grabs her by the ankle.

"I don't know!" Harleen cries, terror seizing her throat now. She feels the tears coming on. "I just don't know...oh please, God..."

"God!" the Joker laughs. "Oh, Harley, don't tell me you honestly believe in him! After all you've seen?" The Joker tugs on Harleen's ankle sharply, snapping her chair back onto the stage. With a fiery gaze, the Joker stares at her. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that there is a God."

Harleen whimpers. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Still making up my mind, dear," the Joker answers softly. With a gloved hand, he reaches out and brushes away one of her many tears. Pouting, he says, "So sad all the time. C'mon, Doc! You know laughter's the best medicine! Give me a smile."

Harleen whimpers.

"Not even a little one?"

Grabbing her by both cheeks, the Joker forces her mouth open in a sick mockery of a smile. Still unsatisfied, he lets go and reaches into his pocket.

"I have other ways of making you smile."

Drawing a knife, the Joker brings it to Harleen's cheek. She screeches in horror, but he grabs her by the throat. The tip of the blade presses against her cheek, drawing the tiniest speck of blood. Harleen's terrified eyes meet the Joker's, and he hesitates.

Releasing Harleen's throat and lowering the knife, the Joker appears momentarily dazed.

"P-please, if you're going to kill me..." Harleen stammers, never taking her eyes off the floor.

"Easy, darling," the Joker says softly, not even looking at Harleen. Somewhere, deep within the twisted recesses of his mind, he's thinking about something. "You're not going to die tonight." Putting his knife back into his pocket, the Joker gets up and walks away.
​

 

[Carnage27]

“I seriously love this show more than the healthy amount,” I say to Gwen, who has her head lying in my lap. I can help but smile during moments like this. Just hanging out with her makes me feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

“I know. Sometimes I think you like TV shows and video games more than you like me,” she smiles up at me. “And if I ever find out you do, I’m going to have daddy come after you with hand cuffs.”

“I’ll have to remember never to tell you it’s true then,” I joke back.

“That is not funny,” she replies and smacks me with a pillow across the face. I tumble off the couch, and the two of us wrestle around on the floor, before I plant a kiss on her lips. As we break, she beams, “Honestly…why did we wait so long to start this? I’ve never been happier.”

I have to admit I completely agree with her. Even with all the stuff that’s going on with the League, the Titans, Luthor, and Goblin, I cannot remember a time when I have been so completely happy, “[FONT=&quot]Who knows, but what matters is we started it. And it isn’t going to end anytime soon.”[/FONT]

I toss an envelope to her, “[FONT=&quot]Open it.”[/FONT]

She does, and inside is my acceptance letter to Empire State University, a school right here in New York, and the school she and I had always wanted to go to.

“Pete! I got in too!” she says, her smile growing even bigger. “This is going to be way too much fun.”

“[FONT=&quot]I know…” I chuckle. “[FONT=&quot]Also…you know how prom is coming up, and I know you’ve always called it something stupid but I was-[/FONT]“[/FONT]

“Of course I’ll go,” she says. “I must confess, I always thought it was dumb because I wouldn’t get to go with you.”

“[FONT=&quot]You need to stop,” I reply with a laugh. “[FONT=&quot]You’re gonna inflate my ego.[/FONT]”[/FONT]

“Yea, like you need help with that,” she shoots back before another kiss.

**********
​

As I swing home from Gwen’s house, I should be on cloud nine, but a lingering doubt still tears at my brain.

Goblin has been quiet and quite sometime.

I land on the roof of a building and survey the city. Ever since he consolidated all the organized crime in the city, there’s been barely a peep. Even the gangs he took over haven’t been seen much.

Sure, I run into a mugging here and there. Or even a bank robbery. But the fact that the true scum of New York have been so quiet leads me to believe something is coming. Something big, and something bad. And the fact that I’m fairly certain Gobby knows who I am scares me even more. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to Gwen or Aunt May.

But that’s not something I can worry about right now.

I shake my head, and swing the rest of the way home.

 

[Byrd Man]

11 hours left.


"No signs of anything, sir," Branden replies over the radio.

"Check it again to be sure."

I look on from outside the boardwalk, leaning against my unmarked car. Sarah by my side. Branden and his SWAT team are going through the dilapidated pier, searching for any signs of Joker and Quinzell.

"Simmons here," a voice crackles. "I see something. Flashing. Wait a minute..."

BOOOOM!

The explosion knocks Sarah and I back. I slam on to the boardwalk with a dull thud, Sarah landing on top of me. The first thing I think about is Sarah and if she's okay. The second thing I think about is Branden and his men.

"Branden! Come in? Anyone there?"

"10-4, commissioner," Branden's small voice comes in over the static.

"Stay calm. Help is on the way."

I help Sarah up. She says she's fine, a little soreness in her back. But she'll live.

"10-01 to dispatch. Signal 13 at the boardwalk. Officer's down. Ambulance needed ASAP!"

"10-4, 10-01. Medical is en route."

I begin running towards the explosion and the down men. My number one concern is for them, but I have one gnawing thought forming in the back of my head.

We hit a dead end. Joker got away. I'm too late to save Dr. Quinzell.

10 hours, 50 minutes left.​

 

[Catman_prb]

"Yeah, yeah, she's fine," Jamie said into the phone "We're attempting to integrate her into Earth culture. Which would be much easier if we weren't both two teenage boys,"

Jamie laughed.

"Yeah I know what you mean. You could always come over and visit? Oh...well I suppose being the Bat's deputy has it's downsides too. Yeah I'll take her out today. Okay Robin, yeah good speaking to you,"

Jamie put the phone back on the hook and rubbed his forehead. If that boy's crush were any obvious, it'd be tattooed across his face.

"You were talking to Robin?" Koriand'r said keenly, from the spot she had been spying on him. Jamie rolled his eyes. It would appear that the Boy Wonder was not the only hopeless romantic.

"Yes I was," he said "He suggested that we go out and experience some city life...so how would you like to see Mutant Town?"

"Oooh," Kori said. Jamie was put in mind of the green alien from Toy Story.

 

[Eddie Brock]

THE JOKER

Harleen can hear him whistling as he trots down the hallway. Sure enough, the dressing room door bursts open, and the Joker is standing there proudly. He flicks on the lights, and Harleen squints through the brightness. "You must be hungry by now, Doctor."

The Joker tosses a large bag onto the floor before her.

"Purina Puppy Chow," he explains with a grin. "I only buy the best for my b****." As usual, the Joker cracks up at his own joke. "Get it? B****? Puppy Chow?" Shaking his head and giggling, the Joker draws his knife and slashes the bag in half. The kibble spills out onto the floor. He locks the dressing room door before cutting the restraints on Harleen's wrists.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Doc? Eat up before it gets cold!"

Harleen can feel her stomach turning over. She doesn't even know how long it's been since she last ate. She stares at the Joker, and she can tell that he's serious. For a moment, she considers starving herself, but she knows the Joker wouldn't let her off that easy. Besides, as disgusting and degrading as it may be, food is food.

As Harleen shovels handfuls of kibble into her mouth, he stands by the door and smiles, satisfied. "Do you enjoy what you do, Doc?" he asks suddenly. Harleen stops eating and stares at him. "Listening to headcases, telling them they need to get in touch with their inner child, all of that psychobabble nonsense. Is that fun to you?"

Suddenly self-conscious, Harleen wipes her mouth and hands.

"I wonder how much you'd enjoy being on the other end. Hmm? Why don't we explore the case of Harleen Quinzell for a moment?" The Joker clears his throat. "If I may, I'd like to give my observations, and you can tell me if I'm right or not. Sound good?"

Harleen stares, wide-eyed. She doesn't know where he's going with this.

"You like attention, Doc. You crave it," the Joker begins animatedly. "You dress like a ****e because you love taking center stage. But the truth is, that's all just an act." The Joker mockingly frowns. "Poor widdle Harley is insecure. Deep down, you know you just don't have main event potential. You're nothing but a sideshow."

"You're useless. Worthless. You can't hold up an act by yourself. You're always leaning on someone else," the Joker spits. His eyes burn momentarily with accusatory hatred. "You cling to other people like the little parasite you are. You're always afraid that someone will see through the charade, that someone will see you for what you really are: a mirror."

The Joker shakes his head like a disappointed parent.

"You reflect back what you think other people want to see, but all you're doing is hiding the fact that without them, you wouldn't exist. You define your miserable existence by clinging onto others because deep down you know that no one could love you as yourself."

"SHUT UP!" Harleen screams, anger burning its way through her.

"Oh, but the inmates? Your patients? You felt yourself drawn to them. And why wouldn't you? Just like you, they're all so flawed. And you probably thought by fixing them, you could fix yourself. But I've got news for you, Doc. I've seen a lot of broken in my day, and there's no one who could fix you."

"I HATE YOU!"

The Joker smirks. "For now." And he leaves the dressing room, shutting off the light and leaving Harleen kneeling in a pile of dog food in the darkness.
​

 

[wiegeabo]

".....Right," I say with an arched eyebrow. "Anyway. What's our next move? Do we give this information to the news, or do we take it to the White House and bring it to Luthor's doorstep?"

"We're running out of time. Luthor's pushed his Sentinel agenda through Congress, and has public support on his side. It won't be long before he gets his Registration Act through as well. We have to move now."

I stand up and face Superman. "I hope you're ready for this, Kent. Because we're about to threaten the President of the United States."

 

[wiegeabo]

"You're going to do it, aren't you?"

"What do you mean? I haven't decided yet."

"Don't give me that, Jay Garrick. I've known you far too long to not recognize your 'determined' face. No matter how well you try to hide it."

"Well, I haven't decided."

"Uh-huh. Suuure. Tell me another one."

I roll my eyes. I never could get anything past her. "Ok, ok. I'm...seriously considering it." She gives me that look. "It's an interesting offer."

"It is. It's also Doctor Doom making it."

"I know, I know. They guy can't really be trusted. Except, in this case, I think he can."

Joan sits down next to me. "Why's that?"

"Because having a Justice League presence in Europe protects his own interests. And if Doctor Doom looks out for anything, it's Number One."

"Ok. That makes some sense. But he's still taking a big risk."

"I know. I'm trying to figure out his angle."

"Protecting himself from President Luthor doesn't seem like enough, does it."

"I don't know. Maybe. But even I'm spooked by what the Avengers and Sentinels did in Khandaq, all under Luthor's orders."

"So you have decided."

I lean back. "Yeah, I guess I have."

***

"Lord Doom, the list you asked for."

I take the proffered document and scan through it. "This is everyone?"

"Everyone our sources say would be interested, and we can keep properly motivated."

"That I can keep properly motivated."

"Of course, Lord Doom."

I hand the paper back to my servant. "Very good. I will share this list with the Flash when we are on our way back home."

"Are you certain he will join your quest, my Lord?"

I smile beneath my mask and sip at the wine in my hand. "Of course he will. What hero can pass up the chance to save the world?"

 

[Byrd Man]

​

6 hours left.

Sarah and I spend the rest of the night trying to track down where Joker could have taken Quinzell. We canvas all the people in her apartment building and her neighborhood to no avail. Our search branches out further into Gotham with each passing hour. The sun is starting to slowly come up when we get our first break.

"I seen her," a news vendor says as soon as we show him Quinzell's photo.

"When?"

"Last night. Around midnight. She was in a van. Her mouth was covered with duct tape and she was beating her head against the van's back window."

"Wait, what?" Sarah asks with a skeptical look. "You saw her nearly six hours ago, taped up in the back of the van and you didn't call 911?"

"In this town?" the vendor scoffs. "Besides, how do I know she didn't like being tied up?"

"Because she's at the mercy of the Joker right now." Holding my hand out, I poke the vendor in the chest hard. "That's right. The same Joker who kills people by the dozens. Now, she may be dead all because you didn't think it was any of your problem. Which direction was the van headed?"

"S-south on Alameda."

Sarah and I share a look, our toughts almost identical. South on Alameda. There's an abanonded theater on that block. It fitst Joker's personality perfectly.

"Call it in to SWAT. Branden's team at the end of the block and proceeding towards the theater on foot."

I turn back to the news vendor and poke him in the chest one more time.

"If we get there, and she's dead? I'm coming back here and arresting you for obstruction of justice."

I turn away from the news stand and get back into my unmarked car as Sarah calls in the new location to Branden.​

 

[Byrd Man]

"We're running out of time. Luthor's pushed his Sentinel agenda through Congress, and has public support on his side. It won't be long before he gets his Registration Act through as well. We have to move now."

I stand up and face Superman. "I hope you're ready for this, Kent. Because we're about to threaten the President of the United States."

"If it were anyone else, I wouldn't do this. But it's Luthor. The man is pure evil."

I pause slightly, looking out at the skyline of Metropolis.

"Let's go give him what he deserves."

 

[The Manly Torch]

Clayface​

6 Hours Earlier

“So, when I get to the station, they’re all there! The whole damn family waving their ribbons and blowing on their curly things, sayin’ ‘Happy Anniversary, Frankie!’ Ha ha ha. Pretty crazy, huh?”

The uniformed pilot glances back at the fellow officer and nods quietly before he turns back and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, amazing story, Frank. I can’t beat that.”

Crane looked over at the officer and smiled. The helicopter’s blades cut through the air swiftly, carrying them through the darkened sky toward Arkham, to where Scarecrow was to be returned from whence Joker sprang him. It was such a short run for the man, he was disappointed, and slightly miffed, though he smiled broadly for the transporters. He moved to scratch his chin, but the chains held him fast to his seat barely an inch from his legs.

“Such confining accommodations,” Crane mused loudly. “All the time. You fellows are so consistent. It’s astounding how much more careful you gentlemen are with me than, say, a common thief, if those still exist anymore.”

“Only the best for you, Mr. Crane,” Frank replied.

“That’s Doctor Crane!” he flared momentarily, before calming himself back down. “But thank you. I appreciate the special treatment. Never want to be too careful with a dangerous man such as I. I’m always one to attack with my fists, to use brute force to try to make my escape, aren’t I?”

Frank’s gaze wavered. The pilot glanced back, shouting over the engine, “Hey! You can just shut your pie hole, alright?”

Crane’s eyes shifted from the pilot and back to the officer dutifully set next to him. “It’s such a simple method, using one’s fists to wail willy nilly on his suppressors and making a daring escape, dodging bullets and outrunning the law, hm? I’ve never tried to get inside your head. I don’t analyze your body movements, where your eyes look, how you react to my words.”

Frank was silent.

“I’ve no idea how I would even go about doing things like that. I mean, how would you? Hm? I suppose if someone glanced at the floor, it might show a tiny sliver of hesitation, might give me some hope in that I can accomplish mind tricks.”

Frank held Scarecrow’s gaze, willing himself not to look anywhere else. Crane’s eyes intensified.

“Maybe if I tried asking questions about yourself? Let’s try that. You got family, um… Frankie?”

“Don’t listen to him, Frank, he’s just spoutin’ off,” the pilot shouted.

“Ah, but you were just talking about your family. You’re so comfortable while people like me are bound, that you just start chatting away with your buddies, sayin’ whatever pops into your head. So, how is the family since your anniversary? How long ago was that, anyways? Oh wait, you did mention the year, it was… 2006, right? Young fellow. Did you move here recently, because I don’t remember your face, and I think I’ve probably seen everybody’s face in the good, ol’ Gotham PD.”

“Shut up, Crane! Frankie, bop him one.”

“Ha ha ha!” Frank cackled. “You’re damn good, Crane. Damn good.”

Crane’s expression changed to one of pleasant surprise.

“Do not worry,” Frankie continued, though his voice was different, more gravely. “Poison Ivy got away. And they’re hot on Joker’s trail. Well, his fake trail, at least. There’s a reason I never trusted that pompous, bleached gerrymanderer.”

“What the hell are you sayin’, Frankie?”

“My name is not Frankie, you twit! It’s Clayface!”

 

[The Manly Torch]

Clayface​

Clayface stepped out of the helicopter, sloppily oozing to the ground as he set the pilot’s body on the concrete next to the runner. They looked around the rooftop and slowly moved about, peering down at the streets below. For several minutes, they were quiet, waiting for anybody to burst through the roof access and demand what was occuring up here, but it seemed they had escaped detection, just as chanced. Scarecrow was the first to break the silence.

“Won’t they notice that my helicopter has not arrived?”

Clayface looked to the sky a moment, before hastily returning to the helicopter and taking control of the CB radio. In the pilot’s voice, he called for response.

“This is Base, reading you clear, Howards.”

“Listen, whoever the hell was supposed to fill this bird missed the goddamn hole! I’m landing and I’m gonna go get me my own damn go-juice!”

“But—”

“I know it’s against protocol or procedure or whatever the hell you want to cite, but this has been a long, damn week for me, okay? I’ve been stewing over a lot of things, and I’ve been tryin’ to keep it bottled up inside, but I guess it takes chasing down psychos again and again to uncork it all! My wife left me for Stanley, and she took the damn TV with her! I got drunk one night and wrecked my truck. I had to buy a new vehicle since the wife took the car, and my insurance is robbing me by an extra 20%. My daughter just adopted a kid to raise with her wife. I’ve got arthritis, bronchitis, asthma, my allergies are acting up, and my hip’s goin’ out, and I haven’t even hit forty yet! And guess what? My hair is a wig! My dog got run over, the washer died, the bank’s threatening to foreclose, somebody stole my tools, my old-ass, busybody neighbor Margie wouldn’t leave me in peace when I want to try to relieve stress with a box of Kleenex and hand lotion, and the faucet won’t stop dripping! I just want to get through the rest of my shift like normal and go the **** home!”

“Uh… Ten-four, Howards.”

Clayface hung up the CB radio and turned to Scarecrow, who snickered.

“I suppose now we will have sufficient time to go into hiding.”

“Wait, what is this ‘we’ business? No, we go our separate ways.”

“So, what, you sprang me merely out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Yes, let’s go with that.”

Karlo rummaged beneath the helicopter seat. Crane shook his head.

“Obviously, there was an ulterior motive with allying yourself with the Joker in order to escape. Though I am sure he was dissatisfied with you.”

“Words, Dr. Crane. I use words all the time. I spout off whatever people want to hear. Joker wanted to hear me swear to him, so I did. I even obliged him, but I was more concerned with my own, personal matters than his. Certainly, I sympathized, but I care nothing for his methods. We have common enemies, and nothing else. That Joker wants to rip the city apart for whatever Godforsaken reason. Frankly, I would much rather live in Gotham and thrive than tear it all down.”

Crane looked pensive, but he pursued his queries further. “You could just as easily move to where the Joker does not threaten your… economy.”

Karlo snorted. “You’ve a doctorate in psychology, have you not? No doubt you’ve already surmised the response to your statement.”

“Heh heh heh. How could anybody figure a man as intelligent as yourself due for dwelling within a mental institution for the criminally insane.”

“That’s just it. It’s for criminally insane. I choose crime over hard work. Do you know what constitutes crime? Refusing to conform to society! People define it so stringently, but that's really all it is. Society demands that people live a certain way, and they plaster misleading words with negative connotations over any bohemianism. I carry out my duties to myself in a fashion unagreeable with society. And I ceased caring for society’s parameters years ago.”

Crane maintained a gaze on Karlo, pressing further. “Your duties?”

“Please, I do not wish to be psychoanalyzed any further!” Karlo spat. “Especially not from someone who suffers from your illness.”

Crane stepped forward. “Just what illness would that be?”

“Why the same for which they accuse me, of course.”

“Oh, you believe I am as insane as I well should be. Do you group me with the likes of Joker?”

“Of course! You are insane, Crane! You obsess over your own mind. You do not feel self-sufficient unless you’ve got patients, patients to whom you are mentally superior, at least as far as you’re concerned. And if people are clawing away at their skin in delusional madness, you feel better about yourself, simply because you are not delusional.”

Crane’s eyes narrowed in a glare.

“But you are delusional… Doctor Crane. You think that manipulating people’s minds is a perfectly sane thing to do. You’re just as terrible as the psychiatrists at that asylum, trying to manipulate MY mind. You’re always walking around with your head high, thinking you’re better than absolutely everyone. Well, you’re NOT! You dress as a Scarecrow to be scary, to instill fear, but guess what? You’re using gas and chemicals, while the Batman doesn’t! You think you’re the master when it comes to the mind, but the truth is that you’re just trying to aspire to a freak like the Batman. You resort to chemicals while the Batman succeeds in frightening people without any chemicals, without any supernatural abilities, without even mincing words! You’re feeble, trite, and pathetic, Dr. Crane, and you’ll never be anything more.”

“And just who the HELL made you the psychologist here?!” Scarecrow screamed shakily.

“I don’t have to be a brain surgeon to figure you out. You’re one-dimensional, Scarecrow. You’re scrawny and feeble, not tall and strong as you would like to be! I know how much you envy Bane. So you made yourself a crutch to lean on, a gas to stop bullies in their tracks.”

“You don’t have a ****ing clue, you concieted, bombastic, apish blatherskite! You’re the one with the delusions! You think you’re the sane one?! Ha! Ridiculous. HA! I’ve seen you. You obsess over tapes of your performances. You always want to be the center of attention. You suffer from classic narcissistic personality disorder. You are not whole unless you are in the limelight, unless you are the important one, unless you are the one to whom the scene ends on. You seek out acknowledgement from others, and yet you suffer from an identity crisis, because you are always someone else and never yourself.”

“I am myself right now!”

“Are you, Karlo?! Are you really yourself? Or is your muddy face signficant of a failed attempt to reimagine yourself, because you knew that you were a flop! A failure!”

Clayface was angry. He shrank down and formed his own appearance from before his change. “This is what I look like!”

“And that’s what you tried to fix, right? Right?!”

Karlo’s eyes darkened, and he exploded into a massive form, towering over Scarecrow.

“Wait, wait, I’m not finished!” Scarecrow cackled. “I have yet to touch on your need to mask yourself as other people, your need to live a vicarious life, your desire to fulfill dreams you could never realize as yourself. What about the disdain you have for your older self? What about how you’ve embraced your new identity as Clayface? And the lies! Don’t even get me started on the lies. I doubt you even know what the truth is anymore. For instance, let’s take your words mere minutes ago. You referred to the Batman as a freak, but we all know that you treasure him. You know just as well as I do how much he appreciates what we do, what we go through for his attention. You think I throw a flour sack over my head for anything other than to dress up for his benefit?! For everybody’s benefit?! That man signifies something for me, and he signifies something for you, too. You were once an actor. To you, he’s your adoring audience. Someone to watch your acting prowess and applaud, though your taste in an aggressive, debilitating audience tells of your sadistic mind.”

A large fist threw Scarecrow off of his feet.

“This is boring,” Karlo stated almost dronely. “We’ve traded enough words. Now it is time for the action.”

The Scarecrow looked up at the monstrous Clayface and laughed. “Go ahead! Do your worst!”

“I’ll bet you wish you still had your fear gas,” Karlo remarked.

“For you? I would never waste it,” Crane sneered.

A large, muddy fist descended on the scrawny man, who rolled out of the way. Clayface swept it sideways and caught Scarecrow in the leg, spinning him on his back. Momentarily disoriented, Scarecrow attempted to scramble to his feet. Thick, constricting mud enveloped him and lifted him in the air. His face burst from Clayface’s blob of an extension, and he blurted out a plea.

“Please don’t kill me! For God’s sake, I’ll do whatever you want!”

“What the **** is goin’ on up here?!”

Both turned to see a beer-bellied man in boxers standing in the open doorway of the roof access.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, before retreating. “Maude! Did you call the police yet?!”

 

[wiegeabo]

"If it were anyone else, I wouldn't do this. But it's Luthor. The man is pure evil."

I pause slightly, looking out at the skyline of Metropolis.

"Let's go give him what he deserves."

It's one of the most secure installations in the world. Despite it's looks, there are protocols, personnel, and weapons systems so well hidden that any intruder would be lucky if they only wound up dead when trying to break in. Even I have trouble getting all the details and plans. I'd say the odds are even that I'd be able to break in. Five to one against that I'd get back out again.

So I find it rather amusing that a superpowered alien is able to fly right up to the White House and tap on the window. Almost as amusing as it is annoying.

"I hate you, sometimes."