One Universe: Season IV IC Thread

[Byrd Man]

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."

"I'm sorry for using the direct approach. Next time we'll go your way and sneak using super-secret ninja skills and sulk in the shadows while listening to depressing music."

Batman scowls, making my smile that much broader.

"Freeze," a voice yells from behind. Batman and I turn to see a Secret Service agent pointing a gun at my chest.

"I'd advise you not to pull that trigger. Umm....is Mister Luthor available?"

 

[Eddie Brock]

THE JOKER

The Joker munches on stale popcorn while throwing his beaten leather shoes up on the keyboard. The theater's control booth has been converted into a place for the Joker to keep an eye on everything inside and outside the building. A hidden camera inside the dressing room, especially, provided some exciting candid footage of Dr. Quinzell.

"I spy with my little eye something..."

The Joker's eyes roll across the multiple screens until he sees something out of the ordinary. A dark figure, positioned by the rear entrance to the theater. Checking the other camera feeds, the Clown Prince of Crime spots similar figures positioned at the other entrances as well.

"...something blue," he sneers. Discarding the popcorn over his shoulder, the Joker wheels around the booth and cracks his knuckles. "Time for the opening act! Let the show begin!" The Joker presses a button on his control panel, and the box office explodes, knocking aside the policeman positioned outside the lobby.

Picking up his Thompson submachine gun, the Joker makes a mad dash to the dressing room.

Inside, Harleen Quinzell's eyes dart back and forth through the darkness, searching for an explanation for the explosion she heard. No explanation comes. Finally, the door bursts open, and the Joker stands there, gun at his side. "I let you live. If you want to know why, you'll come with me," he says in the calmest voice Harleen has heard him use. Still, she's hesitant.

The Joker glances over his shoulder impatiently. "Do you want to go back to being a nothing, or do you want to come with me and see the live you could be living?" he asks. He gives a charming smile. "Who understands you better than me, toots?"

Harleen swallows the lump in her throat. She doesn't know why she's considering this. The Joker holds out his gloved hand, and Harleen takes it. The Clown Prince of Crime immediately takes off, and Harleen has to run to keep up.

The Joker comes to a sudden stop, and Harleen slams against his shoulder. They're behind the stage. The Joker yanks the curtain aside, and Harleen sees someone running down the aisles towards the stage. The Joker barely aims his Tommy gun and fires recklessly into the seats. The charging figure is forced to take cover.

"And now, for my favorite part!" The Joker looks over his shoulder with a smile at Harleen. "The pyrotechnics!" He flips a switch, and the entire theater erupts into flames. The Joker's firebomb spreads like wildfire throughout the old building. The rusty catwalks begin to collapse, falling into the audience. The red velvet curtains light up like a Christmas tree.

The Joker yanks on Harleen's arm, pulling her across the stage to a lever on the other side. Harleen covers her mouth to keep from inhaling the smoke, and the Joker pulls the lever. A trapdoor opens up in the center of the stage. The Clown Prince of Crime darts for it, with Harleen struggling to keep up.

They fall through the darkness about ten feet before landing on a big pile of sandbags. The heat and smoke has begun to fill this compartment under the stage. The Joker scrambles to a hatchway, removing the old wooden cover quickly. He waves for Harleen to follow before disappearing into the darkness.

"MISS QUINZELL! ARE YOU DOWN THERE?"

Harleen looks up at the trapdoor above her. For a moment, she considers crying out in response. Going with the Joker would be a mistake. He's a psychopath, a murderer. No good could come of it. And yet, Harleen had come this far. It didn't seem to make sense to turn back now...

Might as well see this through to the end, she thought to herself as she followed the Joker through the dark hatchway.
​

 

[Green Lantern]

"I'm sorry for using the direct approach. Next time we'll go your way and sneak using super-secret ninja skills and sulk in the shadows while listening to depressing music."

Batman scowls, making my smile that much broader.

"Freeze," a voice yells from behind. Batman and I turn to see a Secret Service agent pointing a gun at my chest.

"I'd advise you not to pull that trigger. Umm....is Mister Luthor available?"

From the grass right in front of the World's Finest heroes shoots up an individual who had just seconds before been the size of an ant.

"Fraid not Superman. I'm his metahuman laison, so anything you want to discuss with Mr. President, I'll hear and take to him. He's had a lot of death threats of late, mostly from our community, so he's not willing to take those risks."

 

[Byrd Man]

5 hours left


The smoke makes it almost impossible to see how bad the fire has become as I stand on the stage.

"He went down there!" Sarah says with a cough. One of her hands points to the trap door, her other hand wrapped around her mouth to keep out the smoke.

"Branden, can you hear me?"

Nothing but static from my walkie-talkie.

"We have to do something, Jim. The fire's getting out of control. We can't stay here long."

"I know."

I walk over to the trap door and look down into the hole.

"Let's go."

I leap into the darkness, falling until I bang against some sandbags. I stand up and walk a little ways into the corridor. Sarah lands on the sandbags right behind me. The small compartment is just as smoky....but there's another passage here.

Pulling out a flashlight and my gun, I click the light on and start crawling through the hidden crawlspace.​

 

[Carnage27]

The final bell of the day rings, freeing me from the hell that is high school. I scoop up my books quickly and basically run down the hall towards my locker. It's Friday, and the weekend is beckoning.

I come to a sliding stop in front of the locker, and notice Flash Thompson is at his right next to mine, "Hey, Flash."

In the past few months, Flash has gone from the guy who would pull my underwear over my head to the guy who begrudgingly sticks up for me when his friends make fun of me. We aren't back to being the good friends we once were...but hey, progress is progress.

"What do you want, Parker?" he sneers before leaning in towards me. "Pete, I thought we weren't going to talk in school. You know, the reputation."

I chuckle a little and whisper back, "Oh right. I heard you got into ESU for football. Just wanted to say congratulations, and that I'll be there too."

"Good, I'll need a tutor to stay on the team," he laughs with a wink.

I fnish packing up my locker and begin to head towards Gwen's when an explosion blows half of the hallway into oblivion. I quickly roll towards the bathrooms as the Green Goblin soars through the hole in the wall on his glider. He surveys the carnage before calling out, "Where's Peter Parker!? Give him to me quickly and no one else has to get hurt!"

Goblin. At my school. I know he knows who I am, but I never thought he'd come here. This is really taking it over the line. Attacking kids? He's gonna have a whole lot more people than just me going after him this time.

But it does worry me. If he's willing to go this far, what is his limit to get rid of me?

"Go **** yourself, elf-boy!" I hear Flash yell at Goblin as I change into my costume.

"Wrong answer!" he replies as the blades on his glider extend. As he gets ready to gore Flash, I swing in and grab him out of the way.

I land far enough away from Goblin and put Flash down, and pat him on the head like he's a child, "You need to learn when to shut-up, meathead."

"Hey, I'm not a meat-" he begins to protest before I quiet him with some webbing.

"Stay here, kiddo, and let mommy and daddy fight this one out," I say as I swing towards Goblin. He throws a punch at me as I approach him, but I contort myself in midair to get out of the way, and deliver a quick kick to his face. His glider goes a little mousy and crashes into some of the lockers, tearing the metal and filling the hallway with an ungodly noise. "Oh man, Gobby! And I thought nails on the chalkboard were bad!"

"Does your talking ever stop?!" he screams as he brings the glider around.

"No, not really," I say, firing a few webballs his way. "It probably should though. Gets me more trouble-"

I'm cut off by a right hook from Goblin that sends me through a wall and into my history classroom. I emerge from the hole in the wall and say, "See what I mean."

But the site that greets me on the other side makes my heart sink. Gwen dangles from Goblin's right hand, and his mask contorts into a completely evil smile, "Bye-bye, Spider-man!"

He rockets off towards the sky with Gwen, and I quickly give chase. I swing as fast as I've ever swung before, and quickly gain some ground on him. But he notices fairly quickly, and my Spider-Sense explodes with warnings.

I look up and see three of his pumpkin bombs flying towards me. The all go off simultaneously. The explosion rockets me through the air, flipping and corkscrewing towards the ground. At impact, I skip over the pavement like a pebble on water, and come to a skidding stop before slamming into, and crumpling, a car.

I shake the cobwebs out of my head and look at the smoke trail from Goblin's glider as it disappears into the New York skyline, and for the first time in a long time, I don't know what to do next.

 

[Eddie Brock]

THE JOKER

"Joker?" Harleen cries out, barely able to see down the dark corridor. The tunnel is small and musty. Harleen's heels - the same ones she wore to work just two days ago, which felt like a lifetime ago now - made the walk very uncomfortable. Her lungs still filled with smoke from the fire, Harleen's coughs seemed to echo through the corridor. "Joker?"

Suddenly, a hand reaches out of the darkness and covers her mouth. "Quiet, darling. Daddy's trying to listen," the Joker whispers, his voice carrying like a cold winter breeze. After a few moments of silence, Harleen hears what the Joker hears. Footsteps and voices coming down the corridor. "No matter what we do, we can never seem to get some time away from the kids."

With the Joker holding onto her wrist tightly, Harleen trudges down the tunnel a little bit faster now. She smells the sewage long before she sees it. Finally, the tunnel opens up into a river of human feces. Harleen fights back the urge to gag as the Joker leads her into the excrement.

"You know, if you don't think about it, it almost feels like a warm bath," the Joker says with a little laugh. He takes one step into the sewer tunnel, and his shoes and pants are covered in human waist up to the shins. Paying no attention, the Joker marches forward, whistling a little tune as he goes.

Harleen hesitates. Her heels aren't going to provide much protection from the sewage now. Discarding them with a sickened thigh, Harleen wills herself to step into the flowing river of disgusting brown water. She hurries a little to catch up to the Joker. "Where are we going?" she asks, deciding that it's best to put her mind off the sewage.

The Joker smiles in much the same way a grandfather would smile at a child asking a question. "These tunnels will take us anywhere in the city. I've got more than a few hiding places that the boys in blue don't know about." The Joker winks and continues on whistling. The sound echoes from all directions, seeming to come from everywhere at once.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Harleen asks, finally mustering up enough courage for the big question. The Joker gives her a quick look, and she corrects herself, "Why haven't you killed me?"

"Maybe I'm waiting for the opportune moment." The Joker turns with a devious smile. "The question you should be asking yourself, toots, is why did you agree to come with me? After everything I did to you. After you had an opportunity to escape this madness. You could've stepped down from the ledge, but you chose to take the plunge." The Joker arcs an eyebrow.

A good question. One that Harleen hasn't figured out for herself yet.

"Little further now. C'mon."
​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

With one hand pointing the flashlight, my other hand gripping my gun with a firm grasp, I march into the raw sewage.

"Go back and get some back-up," I say to Sarah.

"I can handle some stinky water, Jim. I can walk through it in heels, too."

It's almost as if someone was listening. A black high heeled pump floats through the sewage and comes to a stop at my leg.

"Go get back-up!"

I rush forward through the sewage and come to a stop in a rotunda filled with nearly two dozen routes, all of them going different directions. My heart starts to sink. The hopless feeling is getting worse and worse.

"SWAT's here!" Branden announces as he enters the rotunda.

"Split your men up and go into an enterance! Move!"

I bound down a corridor and rush off into the dark.


​

******

​

Four hours and nothing. The SWAT team and I spent four hours on a wild goose chase through the sewers.

Emerging out of the underground, I shield my eyes from the daylight that's appeared since I went down into the sewers.

"No signs of Joker or Doctor Quinzell," Branden reports.

I slump my shoulders and go to my unmarked car, stinking to high heaven and not really giving a damn. This it. My last chance to do something good as commissioner, to show the people who run the city that I don't give a damn about them and their politics, to show them that all that matters to me is the safety of the people.

But I've failed.

2 hours left​

 

[Eddie Brock]

THE JOKER

"Popsicle?"

The Joker closes the freezer and scrambles up to the front of the ice cream truck, sliding into the driver's seat. He stares intently at Harleen as he unwraps a big, red popsicle.

Harleen looks down at her new outfit. Skintight with a red and black checkerboard pattern. It was once one of her "costumes" for late night endeavors. The Joker had kept it after he raided her house. With her work clothes stained with feces and all other kinds of filth, she had no choice but to wear it for him.

The Joker gleefully licks his popsicle for a few seconds before giving a heavy sigh. "I just don't see the point, Doc. I try and try and try, but no one gets the joke. My only audience, my one chance at being understood, is gone - without so much as a final standing ovation! I've been robbed of my prime." The Joker hangs his head, all joy sinking out of his voice. "Even you don't understand me."

Biting her lip, Harleen says, "I...I could try."

The Joker looks up, the faintest glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Oh, would you? There's just no point in putting on a show if no one's laughing." Sitting up a bit straighter, the Joker points out the windshield to a man walking his dog. "What would you say if I got out there and strangled that man right now?"

"I...I'd wonder why you'd do such a thing," Harleen answers honestly, trying to keep an open mind.

"What if I told you he was a child molestor? Would that make it more acceptable?"

"I guess?"

The Joker smirks. "But why? Would his death stop all crime?"

"...no."

"Feed the starving children? Bring an end to all wars?"

"No."

"Then why is his death significant?" the Joker asks. Shifting his weight, he continues, "If I got out of this truck and murdered fifteen people, would the world stop spinning? What if I killed fifty? One hundred? How many people would I need to kill for their deaths to matter in the big picture?"

Harleen struggles for an answer. She knows that what he's suggesting is wrong, but only because she's been told that it's wrong.

"Now, if I were to decide to bludgeon an office worker to death with a stapler, isn't that just funny?!" The Joker begins to laugh. "I mean, think about it! Do you think anyone wakes up thinking, 'Today, the Joker's going to kill me with a Sharpie marker'?"

Harleen smirks just a little. "No, I guess not."

"That's comedy! It's the unexpected! What makes a joke really good?"

"The punchline," Harleen answers matter-of-factly.

"Yes! The punchline! So when I do this--" The Joker takes out a pistol, holds it out the window, and aims it at the man with the dog. Harleen covers her ears. The Joker pulls the trigger, and a BANG! flag pops out. "--that's funny! But this--" The Joker pulls the trigger again, and the gun fires. The man falls to the ground in a heap. "--that's the good stuff! That's the punchline! Don't you get it?"

Harleen stares in horror at the dead body. She's seen the aftermath of the Joker's antics, but she's never witnessed his crimes in the act of being committed.

"Heh."

Harleen looks up at the Joker.

"He fell funny."

The Joker's lip quivers.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The Joker pats Harleen on the shoulder, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "You're starting to get it after all, Doc!"

"Call me Harley, puddin'."
​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

I'm halfway to Central when the scanner comes to life.

"Calling all units, calling all units. Shots fired on Gold Avenue. One dead body on the scene. Perp is in a moving vehicle, believed to be an ice cream truck. Perp has been identified as Joker. Joker is armed and extremly dangerous."

I cut my wheels in a hurry and hit the blue light on my dash.

"Jim, what are you doing?" Sarah screams as I press the pedal to the floor and race towards Gold.

"You don't understand, Sarah. I have to save her. I have to!"

I cut through a back alley and come out on Gold, where a half dozen patrol cars are currently racing behind Joker's ice cream truck. Picking up speed, I pass by the other marked units. Grabbing the mic, I press the button and broadcast on the police band.

"10-01 to all units. Maintain pursuit. I'm going in."

Bracing myself, I bump Joker's ice cream truck with my bumper. The truck skids slightly, but rights itself and continues on its runaway course through Westside Gotham.​

 

[Eddie Brock]

​

I'm halfway to Central when the scanner comes to life.

"Calling all units, calling all units. Shots fired on Gold Avenue. One dead body on the scene. Perp is in a moving vehicle, believed to be an ice cream truck. Perp has been identified as Joker. Joker is armed and extremely dangerous."

I cut my wheels in a hurry and hit the blue light on my dash.

"Jim, what are you doing?" Sarah screams as I press the pedal to the floor and race towards Gold.

"You don't understand, Sarah. I have to save her. I have to!"

I cut through a back alley and come out on Gold, where a half dozen patrol cars are currently racing behind Joker's ice cream truck. Picking up speed, I pass by the other marked units. Grabbing the mic, I press the button and broadcast on the police band.

"10-01 to all units. Maintain pursuit. I'm going in."

Bracing myself, I bump Joker's ice cream truck with my bumper. The truck skids slightly, but rights itself and continues on its runaway course through Westside Gotham.​

"HAHAHAHA! I LOVE A GOOD CHASE SCENE!" The Joker announces as he yanks sharply on the steering wheel. The ice cream truck banks hard around a corner. A police cruiser careens into a wall, its siren dying out with a whine. Harley braces herself as she bounces around with no seatbelt. "Harley, dear, I've packed some treats in the back for this specific occasion. Would you do me the honors?"

Harley smiles from ear to ear. "Nothing would make me happier." For the first time in her life, Harley's having fun. Really having fun. She climbs into the back of the truck, which continues to bounce around as the Joker leads the police on his wild chase. Opening the freezer, Harley finds melon-sized bombs buried under the popsicles. "You got a match, puddin'?"

The ice cream truck hits a bump and is knocked into the air for a second. Upon landing, the Joker replies, "No matches! But check under the cones!" With one hand on the steering wheel, the Joker leans out the window and fires random shots at the police cruisers following him.

Harley pushes aside the boxes upon boxes of sugar cones before finding a flamethrower. "Oh, honey, you shouldn't have!"

"But I did! HAHAHAHA!"

Lighting the fuses with the igniter flame, Harley thrusts open the back door of the truck and begins lobbing the bombs at the police cruisers. They swerve desperately but are unable to fully escape the blasts. One cruiser takes a direct hit to the windshield, erupting in a combination of flame and shattered glass.

"I don't want these boys thinking we're giving them the cold shoulder. Give 'em a little heat, dear! HAHAHAHA!"

Harley straps on the flamethrower and begins shooting streams of fire at the pursuing policemen.

 

[TrueMastermind]

"You're working for the police?" His accomplice's hockey mask prevented from Frank catching a glimspe of his face. All he could gather that his whole presence didn't scream law enforcement.

"I have my reasons." The man's voice was gritty and rough, as if he had faced many incidents of pain and suffering. Not too unlike the Punisher.

Frank began to search the bodies for any evidence, but there was nothing. This new arrival seemed good in his work but he was foolish enough to not leave one alive.

"I'm not an amateur." Puzzled at the meaning of his statement, Frank then saw the man point his gun towards an open broom closet in the corner of the large room. Following his gestures, Frank started to hear a fain whimpering coming out of the room.

"Don't kill me!"

Discovering a shivering young man begging for his life, Frank grabbed the wimp by his collar.

"Tell me what you know about the Gnuccis, or else."

Ten minutes later...

Frank walked out of the closet with his hands now a bloody red. After retrieving his information, Frank had strangled the chap to death. His annoying pleas didn't make the fact that he's a mobster disappear. He was as filthy as the rest of the goons in this joint. And as a result, he got punished.

"See you don't mind getting your hands dirty."

"You have a problem with that?" The man looked around at the array of dead bodies, bodies sent to the grave by his hands.

"What do you think?" Not bothering to give a reply, Frank left the ransacked backroom, followed by the Jason-esque vigilante. But both failed to notice the bartender hiding behind the counter, dialing a number on his phone.

The sun was peeking over it's nightime hiding place, signifying that Gotham was soon to be washed over in daylight. Frank usually completed his work before dawn, but everybody had their slip-ups. Arriving at the area of which his hideout was located, Frank noticed something was amiss. Nearby dumpsters were flipped over, the common hobos gone. It just didn't feel right.

Walking into the hideout, Frank was certainly suprised at what he saw. The place was ransacked, turned into a pig-stye.

"Julia!" No answer. The Punisher looked around, trying to figure out the culprit of this break-in. All of his guns had disappeared, his food stolen, and his TV knocked over. The troubled man wondered if it could have been Julia, the seemingly innocent girl who showed up on his doorstep. Was she sent here? Did somebody over than the New York police knew he lived here? The New York police. To Frank's knowledge, corrupt cops filled the NYPD's ranks. And they likely fed the information to one of the Punisher's numerous enemies. "S***!" The angered vigilante banged his head against the wall, not trying to conceal his rage. Ignoring the following pain, Frank walked over to the only room he hadn't checked, the bathroom.

"Freeze!" Castle whipped around to see a gang of goons directing loaded pistols right at him, leaving him in a bad situation. "Where is she?"

"The girl? Your little freak of a girlfriend thought her freaky deeky powers could stop all of us. But a bullet showed her who's boss."

"You didn't..."

"Kill her? No! Figured if she knows you, she might be something to the Don." The skinny leader of the pack flashed a dirty, yellow grin before gesturing for Frank to move towards the door.

"What powers?"

"The whole super-strength thing! She picked up the refrigerator and threw it at us like it was paper! But she missed, and I put a bullet in her shoulder."

"Where is she now?"

"In the trunk, wait a second, why am I telling you this? Shut up and move along!" Realizing the man's stupidity at putting a person with super-strength in the trunk, the Punisher complied with the goon's orders.

 

[Byrd Man]

Lighting the fuses with the igniter flame, Harley thrusts open the back door of the truck and begins lobbing the bombs at the police cruisers. They swerve desperately but are unable to fully escape the blasts. One cruiser takes a direct hit to the windshield, erupting in a combination of flame and shattered glass.

"I don't want these boys thinking we're giving them the cold shoulder. Give 'em a little heat, dear! HAHAHAHA!"

Harley straps on the flamethrower and begins shooting streams of fire at the pursuing policemen.

My heart goes down into my stomach when I see Joker's maniacal partner firing a flamethrower out the window.

Doctor Harleen Quinzel.

Swerving to avoid the flamethrower, the bumper of my car slams into the back of the ice cream truck. Swerving again into the truck, I pull off a PIT maneuver and cause the truck to spin out onto the sidewalk and crash into a fire hydrant.

 

[Eddie Brock]

My heart goes down into my stomach when I see Joker's maniacal partner firing a flamethrower out the window.

Doctor Harleen Quinzel.

Swerving to avoid the flamethrower, the bumper of my car slams into the back of the ice cream truck. Swerving again into the truck, I pull off a PIT maneuver and cause the truck to spin out onto the sidewalk and crash into a fire hydrant.

"We're taking on water! HAHAHAHAHA!"

The Joker slams both fists down on the steering wheel, causing the airbag to deploy. Laughing himself silly, the Joker cuts his way through the airbag with his trusty knife. Tumbling into the back of the truck, the Joker places a hand on Harley's shoulder.

"How'd it feel?"

Harley looks over her shoulder with a smile. "So much fun!"

"C'mon. Let's entertain our guests."

Picking up an AK-47 from the truck's floor, the Joker throws open the back door and fires randomly in the general vicinity of the police cruisers. Moments later, Harley takes her place at his side, wielding a six-shot pistol and firing at the windshields of the cars.

 

[Byrd Man]

"We're taking on water! HAHAHAHAHA!"

The Joker slams both fists down on the steering wheel, causing the airbag to deploy. Laughing himself silly, the Joker cuts his way through the airbag with his trusty knife. Tumbling into the back of the truck, the Joker places a hand on Harley's shoulder.

"How'd it feel?"

Harley looks over her shoulder with a smile. "So much fun!"

"C'mon. Let's entertain our guests."

Picking up an AK-47 from the truck's floor, the Joker throws open the back door and fires randomly in the general vicinity of the police cruisers. Moments later, Harley takes her place at his side, wielding a six-shot pistol and firing at the windshields of the cars.

I push Sarah down and land on top of her, the bullets flying over head. The SWAT teams armored van pulls up, the bullets ricocheting off the van's steel plates.

The firing stops, as Joker's assault rifle runs out of bullets in his clip. I take the chance, leaping out of the car with my gun pointed at him and the now lost Quinzel.

"Freeze! The both of you! Drop the guns and put your hands on your head."

 

[wiegeabo]

From the grass right in front of the World's Finest heroes shoots up an individual who had just seconds before been the size of an ant.

"Fraid not Superman. I'm his metahuman laison, so anything you want to discuss with Mr. President, I'll hear and take to him. He's had a lot of death threats of late, mostly from our community, so he's not willing to take those risks."

I stare unflinching at Luthor's pet scientist.

"Four."

"...Huh?"

"The number of seconds I need to put you on the ground and see the president anyway. Seven if you grow to giant size. Or, you could let us talk with the President, which, as citizens of this country, we have a right to do."

Under my cape, I put my hand on my belt. "Your choice."

 

[Eddie Brock]

I push Sarah down and land on top of her, the bullets flying over head. The SWAT teams armored van pulls up, the bullets ricocheting off the van's steel plates.

The firing stops, as Joker's assault rifle runs out of bullets in his clip. I take the chance, leaping out of the car with my gun pointed at him and the now lost Quinzel.

"Freeze! The both of you! Drop the guns and put your hands on your head."

The Joker looks at his new henchwoman, shrugging. "You heard the man. Hands in the air!" Turning with a half bow to the Commissioner, the Joker tosses his empty assault rifle onto the ground between the ice cream truck and the SWAT van. Slowly, the Joker raises both arms high above his head.

Harley reluctantly follows. "Hope you know what you're doing, puddin'."

The Joker grins. "Don't I always?" The Joker's gloved fingers slowly reach for the small button on his palm. With one simple press, a stream of acid rains down from the flower on the Joker's lapel. The policemen take cover as the acid starts to burn through the paint on the hoods of their squad cars.

In the ensuing commotion, Harley ducks back into the van. She knocks aside boxes of ice cream to find anything else to use against the police. Finally, with a glint in her eye, Harley discovers something that brings a Joker-like smile to her face.

While the Joker continues to spray his acid at any policemen who so much as flinch, Harley steps up behind him lugging a rocket launcher on her shoulder. "You should know, Mister J, size does matter to me!"

 

[Byrd Man]

The Joker looks at his new henchwoman, shrugging. "You heard the man. Hands in the air!" Turning with a half bow to the Commissioner, the Joker tosses his empty assault rifle onto the ground between the ice cream truck and the SWAT van. Slowly, the Joker raises both arms high above his head.

Harley reluctantly follows. "Hope you know what you're doing, puddin'."

The Joker grins. "Don't I always?" The Joker's gloved fingers slowly reach for the small button on his palm. With one simple press, a stream of acid rains down from the flower on the Joker's lapel. The policemen take cover as the acid starts to burn through the paint on the hoods of their squad cars.

In the ensuing commotion, Harley ducks back into the van. She knocks aside boxes of ice cream to find anything else to use against the police. Finally, with a glint in her eye, Harley discovers something that brings a Joker-like smile to her face.

While the Joker continues to spray his acid at any policemen who so much as flinch, Harley steps up behind him lugging a rocket launcher on her shoulder. "You should know, Mister J, size does matter to me!"

I follow my fellow officer's lead by scrambling into my unmarked car. The acid begins to eat through the roof. Stepping out of the car after the barrage of chemicals has stopped, I see Quinzell holding a bazooka on her shoulder. And then I see Sarah.

"Freeze!" She shouts as she places her gun to the Arkham doctor's head. "You move, and I create a hole so big, I can drive an eighteen wheeler through your head after you're dead."

 

[Byrd Man]

Central City, Missouri

"You're looking good, Steve," the gray-haired woman says as she sits down across the kitchen table and hands me a cup of coffee. Last time I saw Libby Lawrence, Liberty Belle, she was barely older than Bucky. I remember her wedding in London. Her father died in the war, so I walked her down the aisle when she married Johnny Quick. Two days later was the mission Bucky and I went on that changed my life forever and got Bucky killed.

"Thanks. I spent the last 60 years getting my beauty sleep. I always meant to come see you sooner."

"I understand. I don't see the Invaders like I used to."

"What's happened to them all?"

"Union Jack died in '63. He was killed in a car wreck. Commander Steel passed a few years back.Heat attack. Whizzer is retired, living up in Minnesota. Blackhawk is still flying, but I think his daughter does most of the work for them now."

"What about Hawkman?"

"Carter's story is a bit...complicated," Libby says with a smile. "I'm not even sure it makes sense to me. He's down in Lousiana if you want to look him up."

"I'm sorry to hear about you and Johnny. You two seemed perfect for each other."

"We were just kids when we got married. People change, move on. Our divorce was amicable. The best thing to come out of it was our daughter. Jesse. She's a lovely girl and with some special abilities."

"Johnny's speed or your strength."

"Both. Her father and I tried to talk her out of it, but she became a superhero like us. She loves it."

"Libby....do you think if it's alright if I talk to Jesse?"

"I see no reason you can't. What do you want to talk about?"

"Well...with all the stuff going on these days....I've been thinking about putting the Invaders back together."

Libby blinks her eyes and stares at me. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. You know yourself what kind of good we did. I want to see if I can get some of the old guard together and try to put the team back together."

"And if you can't get the originals, get their successors?"

"That's it in a nutshell. I know your daughter is out there, Steel's grandson, and there's even another Union Jack. I want to find them all and see if I can put is back together."

Libby nods and looks off into the distance. "I'll call Jesse tonight. Tell her you're coming."

"Thanks. There's one more thing you can help me out with."

"Oh? What's that?"

"What is a google and how do you use it?"
​

 

[Eddie Brock]

"Barkeep! Another scotch."

I hold up my empty tumbler, shaking it so that the melting ice cubes rattle against the glass sides. I place the tumbler back down on the bar and watch as a ring of condensation forms around the bottom. The air conditioning in the bar leaves a lot to be desired. Closing my eyes and removing my ruby-quartz sunglasses, I wipe my forehead with the back of my sleeve.

As I open my eyes, I find my tumbler full with a rich amber liquid. I nod politely to the bartender before raising my glass to the man seated to my right. "Here's to the love that lies in a woman's eyes. And lies and lies and lies." With a grimace, I tilt my head back and swallow the drink in one swift gulp.

My fellow barfly smirks a bit, looking at his drink contemplatively. "I'll drink to that, boyo." He gives me a nod before downing his glass.

"You sound like a man who's been burned by the 'gentler' sex, too," I remark bitterly. I tap my fingers on the bar, and the bartender fills my tumbler once more. I hold the scotch up to the light while continuing, "Black widows. All of 'em. Just waiting for the right chance to rip your heart out."

The man laughs. "No truer words, my friend, no truer words."

I put down my tumbler and hold out my hand. "Scott."

"John." As he shakes my hand, he motions to my glasses with the other. "Fancy shades. Know where I can find a pair?"

I shake my head. "One of a kind." I give a little sigh. "Just like Jean."

"Oh, no need to tell me, Scott," John laughs. "I once had a little firecracker of my own. Went by the name Nancy Sue." John looks down at the melting ice cubes in the bottom of his glass. A frown creeps across his face. "Oh, she was a wild one alright. And I was crazy for her, too."

"Did she tell you, 'It's not you, it's me'? I got that speech. Right before she left me for that arrogant *******."

"Hey, what can you do, right?" John says supportively.

I look him in the eye. "That's what I asked myself. 'What can I do?' I needed to get back at her, needed to make her suffer like I suffered. You know what I mean?"

John frowns again. "Better than you can imagine, boyo."

I pick up my tumbler, bringing it to my lips. Then, I pause. I put the tumbler back down on the bar and turn on my stool to face John. "Is that why you burned Nancy Sue's house to the ground, John?"

John is speechless.

"She and her new boyfriend were fooling around, right? And you wanted to send a message, so you torched the place." I push my tumbler away, focusing all my attention on John and his reaction to all this. "I know what you did. I know what you are, John."

Without taking his eyes off me, John reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a crispy twenty dollar bill. "Barkeep! This'll cover my drinks. Keep the change." John places the bill down slowly, and it's not until the last second that I see his other hand sifting through his pocket.

"X-MEN, MOVE!"

The tall, dark-haired boy playing pool across the room drops his cue stick. In a flash, his pale skin transforms into a reflective metal surface. He charges across the bar just as John lights the match. Flames lick at Peter Rasputin's skin, but he stands between myself and the target, John Allerdyce. Peter grabs Allerdyce by the shoulder and tosses him across the bar.

"Thanks for the save, Colossus."

BAMF!

Kurt Wagner, better known as Nightcrawler, appears before me, holding my visor. With a thankful nod, I take the visor from Kurt. He vanishes in another cloud of smoke, leaving behind only the distinct smell of sulfur.

"Jean, let's take this outside."

The attractive redhead at the other end of the bar stands up, ignoring the passionate stares from the bar patrons. She holds out her hand, and a groggy John Allerdyce begins to seemingly float through the air. As he comes to, he reaches for another match, but with a flick of her wrist, Jean launches Allerdyce through a brick wall and onto the street.

Colossus steps through the hole in the wall first, followed by Jean and then me. With another loud "BAMF!" Nightcrawler appears, perched atop a streetlight. I press a finger to the side of my visor, inwardly hoping that Allerdyce will make a move so I have an excuse to blast him.

"Mr. Allerdyce. Or is it 'Pyro?' You know that there are two ways we can do this, and you know what those two ways are. So save us all a lot of trouble and surrender now."
​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

It's 3 AM, do you know where your children are? Well, if you're name is Bruce Wayne, you know exactly where your kid is.

He's hard at work.

I detach the cable and summersault into the burnt out building. Two nights ago, this dry cleaning business was fire-bombed with Molotov cocktails. According to the word on the street, it was because they refused to pay protection money to whoever is trying to step in and run the Gotham rackets in Two-Face's absense.

Bruce's bug inside the GCPD got me a look at the case file the cops are working on. The Arson unit isn't really giving it much of a go. Gordon has been out of office for a few days now, and already the cops are returning back to their old ways. I guess it's up to me to pick up the slack.

Walking around the burnt store, I tap my mask and the lens begin to glow. UV light glows from the eyes as I walk around the store in a hunt for clues. There isn't much here, really. Anything that I could hope to find has been burnt up by the fire. I would have to be really lucky to find something like a hair fiber, footprint, or even a....

"Fingerprint...."

On front door's frame, a smudged thumbprint in the soot. I walk over to it, not trying to get my hopes up. A case 48 hours old, it's probably a firefighter's print, or a cop, or probably a hobo who sqautted in the building overnight. Tapping my mask again and zooming in, I scan the thumbprint and copy every ridge, loop, and swirl.

"Alfred, are you online?"

"Yes, sir," he replies back promptly. "I'm down in the cave, doing a bit of dusting."

"I've got a thumbprint I'm sending your way. Run it through the GCPD, FBI, and NCIC databases. See if it gets a hit."

"Very good. I'll bet Master Bruce will be pleased to learn of this when he gets back from his business trip. The sidekick sleuthing on his own."

"If it'll get him to shut up, I'll do anything."

"Indeed. And I have the results from your thumbprint, sir. It's the print of one Raymond Bloch, sir. Also known as Ox. He's a New York criminal, with three prior arrests that include attempted murder. He's an organized crime associate who works with two other men. Jackson Brice aka Montana and a Daniel "Fancy Dan" Brito. These three gentlemen call themselves the Enforcers."

Three New York hoods in Gotham for what reason? Pickings must be getting slim in the big apple, so it's down to Gotham where the arrest of Two-Face has rolled out the welcome mat to all comers.

"I hope that information helps, sir. I'll be happy to forward the files of all three to your mobile device."

"Do that. I want to get an idea of what these guys look like. Thanks, Alfred. I'll be home in a few more hours."

Disconnecting from Alfred, I turn away from the store and shoot a grapnel line into the sky. Finding three criminals in this town is like finding a needle in a stack of needles. But it doesn't matter. I got their names and faces.

Robin has got the scent.​

 

[Green Lantern]

I stare unflinching at Luthor's pet scientist.

"Four."

"...Huh?"

"The number of seconds I need to put you on the ground and see the president anyway. Seven if you grow to giant size. Or, you could let us talk with the President, which, as citizens of this country, we have a right to do."

Under my cape, I put my hand on my belt. "Your choice."

"Uh no. Normal citizens can't approach the president without an appointment. You two, despite your own egos are not an exception. You aren't better than the general populace, and that's part of what's gotten us into this mess in the first place is the hero community thinking that we are better than everyone. Now, go home and write the president a letter like a good little five year old."

 

[wiegeabo]

"Uh no. Normal citizens can't approach the president without an appointment. You two, despite your own egos are not an exception. You aren't better than the general populace, and that's part of what's gotten us into this mess in the first place is the hero community thinking that we are better than everyone. Now, go home and write the president a letter like a good little five year old."

"We talk to the President, or we talk to the press." I glance at the man floating next to me. "Which do you think he'd prefer, Superman?"

 

[Green Lantern]

"Go ahead and talk to the press Batman. You aren't seeing the president without an appointment. Take your matter to the press, and you'll look like Cindy Sheehan. She looked so good in the public eye camped at Bush's Ranch didn't she?"

To reinforce his point, Hank grows about a foot in size. Not fully giant, but enough to at least stress a point.

 

[wiegeabo]

"Go ahead and talk to the press Batman. You aren't seeing the president without an appointment. Take your matter to the press, and you'll look like Cindy Sheehan. She looked so good in the public eye camped at Bush's Ranch didn't she?"

To reinforce his point, Hank grows about a foot in size. Not fully giant, but enough to at least stress a point.

I look up, meeting Pym's glare.

"Five."

 

[Green Lantern]

Hank sighs.

"Batman, what you're doing right now, is threatening a member of the United States Secret Service. That constitutes a felony. Yes, you may be able to take me out, but how about the forty armed agents I just called for? Not to mention, you strike me, and it will be on the news by the end of the hour, and that same media you were so ready to play up thirty seconds ago would be your worst enemy. Step down and we can figure out a solution, maybe even set something up with the president."