Singular Universe: Brave New World -- IC Thread

Gordon's Girl Linked to Wayne Ward!​

Gossip Gerty, in her chronic crusade for capital chatter, has a hot item for all you little smut mongers out there to ease your sojourn for superb SINnuendo.

SINnuendo Item 1: Barbara Gordon is a name many Gothamities may be familiar with if only by association with her daddy James Gordon. Gordon, in his continuing pugnacious pursuit of prime political power, jumped from police commissioner to become mayor of this fine upstand polis of peepers, perverts, and punks. With Gordon sans a hausfrau, dear Baraba fills in as first lady for her dearly devoted dad. Gordon's reputation as a recalcitrant reformer and Baraba's as a bubbly beauty with brains means the father-daughter combo make media men mushy.

SINnuendo Item 2: Dapper Dick Grayson. Ward to that polished playboy Bruce Wayne. Gymnast Grayson, late of the fantastic funambulist Flying Grayson's, has known terrible tragedy in his teenaged times. Mama and Daddy Grayson both take the night train to the big adios on suspicious and slippery scenarios. Gossip Gerty's gaggle of gossipy geese have gleaned from the grapevine that Daddy Grayson was grouped up with some grim gangs inside the Gotham Underworld.

SINsational Revelation: Babs and Dick were recently spotted by a pair perceptive peepers dining together. Say it ain't so! Bright Babs and Delightful Dick, dining in deluxe digs! She with a squeaky clean image and he with an oh so muddled past. One can only help but wonder what does Billionaire Brucie and Whiskey Jim think of these SINtillating developments? Gossip Gerty can't hep but support these star-crossed saplings. We hope that in the end, love conquers all. Amore!

That's the latest update, dear hearts. Remember you read it here first from Gossip Gerty, giving you all the smut that isn't fit to print.


Gotham City Hall
9:23 AM

Jim reread the article. Gossip Gerty, a website that printed half-ass rumors and conjecture. He felt rage building up with every word. He did not want Barbara in the limelight. What she did for him and city was one thing, this was another. HIS life was an open book. He'd told the truth on the campaign trail, about the drinking and the failed marriage. Those dings against him are why he barely beat Hill. But to bring Barabara's personal life into this mess when she didn't even ask for it... The rage fueled the Thirst. It made him need a drink. He ignored it. He pushed it down. He did a quick internet search instead.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" His bodyguard Officer Melvin Brown asked.

"I need you to drive me somewhere."

Jim canceled his appointments for the morning. City council meeting was in the afternoon. That he could not put off. Brown drove him to the First National Bank. Jim played with his tie and fidgeted.

"Officer Brown-- Melvin. What is about to transpire in the next hour or two will change the dynamic of our relationship. You will no longer be simple protection. You will be a confidant. You will be a rock, you will not absorb anything that happens and you will not tell anyone. Is that understood?"

Brown looked uncomfortable. He moved in the seat.

"Yes, sir."

Jim went inside. He went to THE safety deposit box. Inside sat THE USB drive. He held it up, palmed it. He felt the ****ing weight of it. An atom bomb in his hand. It held secrets, it held power, it held the way to make them his. He tucked it into his coat and left the bank.

*****​

Dutch Hill
11:03 AM


Jim rapped on the door. A third-floor walk-up in a middle-class part of the city. Not the kind of place you'd expect the Queen of Smut to live. Brown stood close beside him.

The door swung open. A fat man in a stained t-shirt and dirty boxers blinked. He was bald with a goddamn neckbeard.

Jim said, "Greg Gertrude?"

Gertrude said, "Holy ****."

"Gossip Gerty," Jim smiled. "In the flesh. Not what I expected."

Gertrude scowled. "Is this about the story from this morning?"

"What do you think?"

Gertrude yawned. He played it off nonchalant. "Is this intimidation? You coming up here with a thug to try to beat some editorial control into me?"

Jim smirked. "Not quite. But I do want you to retract your story and never mention my daughter again."

Gertrude rolled his eyes. He popped a pimple on his cheek, wiped the pus on his shirt. "Or what? You'll beat me up, you'll have me run in for some ******** charge? You can't do anything to me, Whiskey Jim, I have my ****ing first amendment rights."

Gordon grinned wide. He pulled paper from his coat pocket. Unfolded it and showed it to Gertrude. His eyes went wide, they nearly popped out his skull.

"I don't know if I'd call what you're doing to the dog in that photo a first amendment issue, Mr. Gertrude. But I know what headline I'd give it 'Gossip Gerty: Doggy-Style!'"

Gordon shoved it into Gertrude's face. He stumbled back, tripped on his own feet. He fell on his ass and went ooh. Jim looked down at him.

"Keep mine and my daughter's names off your filthy website. I see them on there again, that photo goes wide. I'll find some bottom-feeder below you who would just love to have dirt on Gossip Gerty. Now, who's a good boy? Are you a good boy? C'mon, say it. Say it. Say you're a good boy."

Gertrude choked out, "I'm a good boy."

Jim winked. They left. Brown drove in silence. Jim sat in the car and watched traffic zoom by. His hands shook. His heart pounded. He felt dizzy. He felt good. His rage was gone, the Thirst was gone. He pulled the USB drive out of his pocket and stared at it. Power... in the palm of his hands.

 

"Hello, old pal. I've missed our little games."

Robin and Harley Quinn seemed to be occupied with one another, so that left The Joker and Batman. Rubbing his hand, still seized up a little from its shock treatment, The Joker walked towards Batman, grinning. The two of them stood facing each other, like a pair of duelists in a Western about to have a shoot-out at high noon.

"I truly feel sad for those people out there who go through their whole lives having never found the one, that special someone who "gets" them, the perfect dance partner. Well, I can sleep easy knowing I've found the one in you, Batman. We can have so much fun together. I mean..."

With a flick of the wrist, The Joker produced a trigger from under his sleeve and immediately pressed the button.

"Oops! Not gonna monologue and let you hit me with one of your little doo-hickies before I press the magic button. What's this trigger for, you ask? Maybe it's the trigger for a tiny bomb, attached to a collar I had wrapped around some poor soul's neck. Someone you've never seen, who you'll never know. Maybe I keep little safehouses all over the city, filled with victims you don't even know about, just waiting for the right gag to use them in. Maybe I've just made you responsible for another death in Gotham City with each passing minute you fail to stop me!"

The Joker stared intently at Batman for a few seconds, before the old smile flashed on his lips once more.

"Or maybe this is just a dud prop I bought in a toy store, and pressing the button didn't do anything."

Casually, The Joker tossed the trigger off the edge of the boardwalk and into the water.

"I guess now we'll never know. HAHAHAHAHA!"

 

He's bluffing. He almost certainly has to be, if he expects me to go chasing after that trigger. The Joker's irrevocably insane, but he's also alot smarter than most give him credit for. He always has a means to an end, even if the end never particularly makes sense. The only thing I'm uncertain on is whether that end is to distract me long enough to open Robin up to a surprise attack, given Dick's currently focused on trying to defend himself from Joker's rather feverent cohort... or if he legitimately only wanted an audience for exactly what he's implying: the deaths of either one or several innocent people, something that I can't possibly hope to prevent.

This isn't the first time he's presented me with a seemingly impossible choice, but I have to admit - I'm starting to become disturbed at how adept he's become at it. We've only been doing this for a couple of years. The Joker was one of the first "theatrical" enemies I've ever encountered, predating alot of what's shaped my current world. Dick's induction into my life, leading into the difficult decision to train him. Harvey's descent into madness, and his subsequent adoption of the Two-Face persona. My fractured alliance with Jim, which is so far gone that it may never recover.

It would seem as though with Joker's arrival in Gotham, my life has only worsened. And what scares me is about that is the idea that most are convinced he's worse than the rest - perhaps even the very worst that the city has ever had to offer. I've never given him that sort of distinction. When you scrape past the layers of his madness, past the glee that he takes in the torment of others, The Joker is still just a criminal like any other.

Whatever does make him different is the level of danger he represents to Gotham in the moment at hand. Which is why I can't just end this simply and quick. If I go for the takedown, as I've tried in the past, he's likely to have a countermeasure in play. Or as he'd likely call it, another ace up his sleeve.

Time is running out. I have to make a choice. I will not needlessly risk losing another life to this psychopath, but I'm even less thrilled with the idea of leaving Robin to stand his ground against two of them. I just have to assume he's lying. That the "joke" really is the trigger being a fake. And if I'm wrong... God help me.

Without so much as a warning, I vault directly for the clown and throw a hard punch across his grinning face. He simply looks at me and cackles, wildly taunting me even further. I lay into him with a couple more, practically beating his face in as hard as I possibly can. By the time he's shown signs of even a slight incohesion, I allow my anger to get the better of me.

"I'm not your partner in anything. And you're not going get me to play into your sick joke!"



"Now call off your friend, or so help me... I'll make sure you go to Arkham in pieces."

 

Here, it was cold, and dark, and quiet.


Here, he was alone.


Here, he liked it best.


He had been down here as long as he could remember, barely stirring. No longer needing things like food or air, he was sustained by the burning sickness in his gut. Without the need to return to the surface, where his size made moving slow and painful, he slept and dreamed.

In his dreams, the blinding light never washed over his island, never filled him with the terrible burning. He wasn't too big to walk on land, he could feel the warm sunlight on his hide, the taste of blood and meat in his gullet....not just the awful sickness that boiled in his belly, or the stings and burns from the terrible little creatures whose nests covered the land all over.

In his dreams, he was content. When he was awake, he was cold and alone....and even in that, he could be content.

*SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*


A horrible, piercing noise shot through the deep, breaking his slumber. It rattled his eardrums, stung his brain. Everything about it hurt, and immediately, he felt rage. He had to find this thing, and destroy it.

Red eyes snapping open for the first time in decades, he lifted his massive bulk off of the ocean floor, and with a few powerful lashes of his tail, began to propel himself to the surface. The awful sickness inside of him turned to a hunger, needing to replenish itself with more of the hateful burning that could only be found in the nests of the little creatures on the surface.

He hated going to land, but there was no other choice.

Now he was awake.....

Now he was hungry.....






.....and now he was very, very angry.

 

​

"Wait! What is going OOMPH!"

Robin made a move toward Batman and his purple clad foe and quickly found himself back on the ground gasping for air. All the confidence he had been slowly building the past year was quickly and unmercifully being beat out of him.



[BLACKOUT]"I didn't say ya could leave yet, Bird Boy. How abouta rousin' game of 'Whack a Brat'?"[/BLACKOUT]

Robin scooted backwards on his rear end as the crazy clown's female accomplice swung her giant hammer again, barely missing the teenage hero. He quickly scrambled to his feet, feeling around the back of his utility belt and producing a skinny metal cylinder. He ran his thumb along a small switch, and the ends extended outward in either direction, transforming into a lightweight titanium bo staff. The Boy Wonder extended his arms above his head, and blocked the next blow of the over-sized mallet with the staff. A swift, well placed leg sweep to the ankles put the female jester onto the ground and sent the hammer skittering across the wooden walkway.

It was obvious to The Dark Knight's young partner that his mentor had a history with the clown, yet he had never mentioned anything about him to his young ward. The rage in Batman's voice, the verocity in each punch, had Robin seriously doubting that this was a foe that had simply slipped Batman's mind. He had purposefully kept Robin in the dark.

Placing his knee across her neck, Robin bent down over the crazy clown woman, placing his fingers under the edge of her mask.

"Let's just have a little look-see, shall we?"

 

​

A bright sun-shining day in Bangalla, just like so many others. A perfect day, just like every other for the animals on the Isle of Eden. Alpha lions and tigers fish for the piranha that surrounds and protects them from the mainland - and the curious eyes of man - whilst others within their pack sunbake on the shore.

Truly a peaceful place, if any such place exists on Earth. But that peace is about to be shattered...

One of the island's greatest protectors, the "cave monster" Hzz looks to the skies.

"Hzz!" he cries.

Beyond his limited vocabulary, his sole word mimics the invading presence; 1,200 feet above them an experimental jet soars, yet splutters like an angry hornet...

The pilot's disposition is similar.

"God damn it! Come in!" He swears into his mask. "Radio's given out on this piece of junk..." Little did the pilot know, the radio was in perfect working order. An electromagnetic anomaly naturally occurring on Eden was the fault in question. And the radio would be only the first of his problems...

Dials and gauges started to flicker and spin as if they had a mind of their own. Engine 1 cut out and engine two still sputtered sickly.

"Aww s***... Come on, you hunk of scrap, don't make me glide you down!"

The second engine died with a final rattle.

"Sonuva*****..." The pilot pulled his mask from his face and focused on finding a clear space to set the jet down. Ferris African division head Janos Prohaska would be pissed, but what would that wrinkled old fool know about flying anyway. Better to get it down in one piece and take the exorbitant extraction costs - find and fix the faults that lie with the X-77 - than to eject and leave them picking through scrap.

He took a wide circle and then saw a fairly suitable place to attempt an emergency landing.

"Well at least that's somethin'..." he muttered, 9 o'clock low there was a beach. Big open strip of space too, shon at him like a beacon from the midday sun.

500 feet. Ejecting fuel load. Flaps in motion.

It wasn't providence, it wasn't a higher power trying to save his life, and it wasn't a coincidence. It was glittering. It really was shining at him... the sands off the beach.

"Is it ever somethin'... What the hell do you suppose that is?"

200 feet, heavy flaps.

Golden sand - literal golden sand - winked at him. “What is that..? Is that gold?”

Indeed it was. For the sands of this beach – Keela Wee – were truly gold. The gift; from an Emperor whose wealth was almost beyond measure.

The pilot’s mind raced. What a discovery! If he could put the plane down in one piece here, the discovery would easily surpass the extraction costs! His eyes steeled with focus, the beach was narrow and curved without much space for his landing, but fortunately there was only one residence on the beach which could easily be avoided – a small hut made of greenest jade.

He was coming in fast, but angled so that the water could bring him to a quicker stop.

Don’t want any more of that precious gold getting carried out in the tides than can be helped…


Far away in the Deep Woods, The Phantom is among friends. Guran, Chief of the Bandar tribe is discussing recent happenings between his people and the Wambesi tribe.

Suddenly, a purple glow can be seen from the entrance to the Skull Cave. The vibranium throne is picking up a message sent via talking drums. He runs to the chair and sits in it, deep in focus, just as his father taught him he concentrates as the message from miles away reverberates in his ears.

STRA-ANGE BIRD IN KEE-LA WEE, STRA-ANGE BIRD IN KEE-LA WEE!​

STRA-ANGE BIRD IN KEE-LA WEE, STRA-ANGE BIRD IN KEE-LA WEE!​

Judging by the inflection in the drums, the lack of familiarity to their tone, this was not the ship of his old friend Flash Gordon. And if strangers had discovered Keela Wee again, this was a matter of the utmost importance.

The Phantom runs from the cave, his closest companion Devil sees the tension in his master’s stone face and also gives chase. The Phantom puts two fingers to his lips and lets loose a shrill whistle, seconds later his horse Hero bursts from the brush and the three set off for Keela Wee at full tilt.

Riding hard, the Phantom can now start to hear the drums just ahead of him without the need for his throne. These drums are met by a familiar beat coming from behind him, signalling that the message has indeed been received.

PHAN​

-TOM! PHAN-TOM! ​

PHAN-TOM! PHAN-TOM!​

Back at the crash site, Ferris Air pilot Andrew Lincoln was thanking his lucky stars. He’d managed to execute a near perfect emergency landing with an experimental aircraft with two dead engines.

He’d landed high on the beach, away from most of the golden sands. Admittedly this was somewhat out of greed, but hey! He should be thinking of the natives and giving that jade hut a wide berth. Why risk the public? Even savages who’d live in such a small hut? So high, in fact he had beached it on a strange coral wall back near the island he’d been flying over before as he had brought it down in the relatively shallow water.

Still, it wouldn’t matter. He was a competent swimmer, and for a few hours or even days of discomfort, the untold wealth of the golden sands would surely be worth it. He unclipped himself from the seat and popped the canopy. He checked his person for flares and emergency supplies, stepped through the canopy hatch and plunged into the cold water beneath.

But the waters off the coast of Eden are teeming with piranha.

Andrew Lincoln yelped as the first small fish feasted upon the new flesh and quickly turned back towards the coral shelf, realizing the island was far too far away for safety. But sensing the panic and with blood in the water, the piranha massed. Water bubbled and turned red.

With a lunge of desperation Lincoln managed to reach the coral wall and pull his mangled form from the water. He cut his arms deeply on the coral, but the cost to a desperate man was slim. He looked aghast at what little remained of his legs. Tissue, sinew and bone with little more in some places, the small fish were voracious in their appetite.

The adrenaline in his system starting to dissipate, Lincoln promptly fainted. Whether by luck, or perhaps a final effort of self-preservation his form flopped to the other side of the coral wall, where he drifted lifelessly on the tide’s whim.

It was in this fashion that he washed ashore the golden sands of Keela Wee. Hen-pecked by gluttons, his arms spread wide as if finally hugging his prize.

"He who comes to Keela Wee without love is buried there." - Old Jungle Saying​

 

​

[BLACKOUT]"I don't think so, punk."[/BLACKOUT]

Harley snapped her head forward and clamped her teeth around the teen sidekick's hand. She bit down as hard as she could, trying to bite through the leather.

"OWOWOWOWOW, You crazy broad!"

Harley was too focused on chewing the glove off Robin's hand to notice the incoming right hook. In that moment, her thoughts flashed back to Saturday mornings as a little girl in front of the television. She never believed you could really see chirping birds flying around your head, yet here they were, bobbing around merrily.

[BLACKOUT]"PrEtTy BiRdS. So MaNy CoLoRs."[/BLACKOUT]

-

"Oh my God. I just hit a woman. Really hard. A crazy homicidal clown woman trying to eat my hand, but still a woman. All woman....STOP THAT!"

Robin shook his hand. He didn't think the skin was broken, but he had still felt the better part of being bitten. The gloves didn't have a lot of padding, it hurt the dexterity.

Robin looked around. The GCPD had been able to finally move in and secure the outlying area, getting the survivors to safety.

*CLICK*

He knew instantly it was a hammer being pulled. He cursed himself inwardly. It was a rookie mistake, taking his eye off of his foe.

[BLACKOUT]"Yer mother should be ashamed. I'm gonna put a hole in yer head, then I'm gonna cut it off. And once I know who you are, I'm gonna personally deliver it to her, and show her what happens to disobediant little welps before I make her pay for bein' such a lousy parent."[/BLACKOUT]

One of the earliest lessons that Bruce had taught him was rage wasn't neccesarily a handicap. It could be a powerful weapon, but it needed to be channeled properly. Dick needed to let it work for him, not control him. It hadn't been one of his easier lessons. All he had wanted to do was punish those who took his family from him. He wanted to watch them bleed, watch them suffer.

At that moment, all those feelings came rushing back to the surface.

"YOU B*T#H!"

Robin heard the satisying crunch of cartlidge against bone as his elbow met the jester's nose. His vision was as red as the blood flowing from her nostrils as he pounced on top of her.

"YOU DON'T TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER, EVER!"

Fist met face again, and again, and again. The bodies on the ground, each one was his mother a hundred times over. Each strike was vengance for her, payment for the sins of the evil.

It was Tony Zucco pinned beneath him. It was that big, disgusting nose of Oswald Cobblepot that he kept pushing further and further into his face. He was going to end them both, once and for all, here and now, with his bear hands.

Thumbs pressed against the airway, teeth clenched into a deadly snarl. He would personally feel the final breath leave the lungs, and then, then it was on to the most evil man he had known. The man who destroyed his life and took his mother from him.

"I hate you, dad. I hate you."

 

​

I turn and give Wally a look. He has a very... rudimentary understanding of my connection with SHIELD and the Avengers. Sometimes, I wonder if it wouldn't be a good idea for Wally to experience a little teamwork outside of our partnership. After all, I know he's not the only metahuman his age. But that's an idea for another day. "And risk exposure transporting two superpowered agents behind the borders of a sovereign nation for an unsanctioned mission?" I counter in a hushed tone. "Just be glad they're footing the bill for our airfare."

I know I am. Explaining a credit card purchase of airfare to Panama to Iris would be quite the challenge. As it is, she believes that I'm visiting my extended family in New York and that Wally's run off with some friends for an impromptu trip to St. Louis. Not our best cover stories, but they'll have to do. In any other situation, I would've just used my speed to make this an overnight trip, but Wally's powers have never been stretched that far. I couldn't risk burning him out on the trip down here -- particularly when I'm not sure what we'll be up against. It's crossed my mind that we might find ourselves up against more of those... things.

The customs agent asks to see our passports, and I present them. They aren't our personal passports, of course, but rather dummies supplied by SHIELD. The more things distancing our true identities from this trip, the better. Not just for our personal lives, but for any backlash should this mission go sour. I don't intend to let that happen. "<Good morning, ma'am. My nephew and I are visiting on vacation. A little fun in the sun, a chance for him to prove he's been paying attention in Spanish class,>" I say to the agent, who smiles. When we got on the plane, I didn't speak a word of Spanish, but that's nothing a little speed-reading couldn't fix. Already, I can feel the accumulated knowledge slipping away, but it should hold out long enough.

The woman stamps our passports and hands them back, saying, "<Don't forget the sunscreen.>"

"Gracias," I nod.

Not long after, Wally and I find ourselves at the edge of the city. In the distance, the rain forest extends for miles. Our manufacturers may be out there right now, producing more vials of that serum. If mass quantities reach the global market, it could be chaos. It's up to us to put a stop to it. I turn to Wally. "Alright, you know the drill," I begin, "Fan out, look for anything out of place. If you find something, signal me."

And just like that, we're off.
​

 

The East End
9:14 AM


"Goddammit."

Renne and Cris Allen stood in the middle of a crime scene. A DB laying face first on a linoleum kitchen floor. blood pooled around the head. The apartment: Last known address of Michael Loftis. Renee's work on the armored car job led to Daniel Gallagher, a former cop with a fudged GCPD file. Loftis, an A-1 forger with Alexi Abramhoff as a listed KA. Abramhoff was a Russian-Jew Bennett Beach gangster tied to diamond smuggling. Inspector Sawyer told them to pick him up as soon as possible. After a no-answer, they forced the door and found...

"A goddamn murder," Allen said.

Montoya said, "This makes the eighth one since the diamonds got jacked."

Renee popped on latex gloves, bent by the body. Soft touch on the head. Turn, turn, turn. There: Blood and an exit wound on the forehead, but it's a full-on match for Michael Loftis. She put the head back in place, looked up at Allen.

"We've got to call Sawyer, see if she can get some kind of search warrant on this Abramhoff guy."



Bennett Beach
10:23 AM

Rolling convoy tearing ass through Bennett Beach. A SWAT van, two prowl cars, two unmarked cars cruising between them. Car 1: Daz, Driver, Fields packed in tight, Maggie behind the wheel. Car 2: Tork riding solo. Flashing lights and sirens. Pedestrians scattering, old babushkas yelling at the cop cars in Russian and Polish. Maggie gripped the wheel tight. Adrenaline coursed. She felt jazzed.

Montoya's legwork led to a dead forger mobbed up with a diamond smuggler named Abramhoff. Maggie got enough PC for a raid on Abramhoff's pawn shop and the rest of the MCU mounted up with SWAT. Montoya and Allen stayed at the crime scene and worked it for clues and evidence. Their case against Abramhoff needed to be airtight. Maggie cut odds they'd find the diamonds with the man and didn't like what she came up with.

Flash notice on the scanner in the car. Shots fired at a location, calling all nearby cars.

Daz cursed. "That's the pawn shop, isn't it?"

Maggie put her foot down. The SWAT van followed suit. They flew through narrow streets at breakneck speed.



Bennett Beach
10:20 AM


Glass shattered. Semi-automatic gunfire burst through the morning. Vin ducked behind the cop car holding his service piece. Bullets racked a sidewalk. Concrete and bullet chips blew. He looked out from his vantage point. Four armed men inside Abramhoff's Pawn Shop. Big time screw-up. Flass, Vin, Corrigan, and Burke went in to brace Abramhoff about the diamonds. They smelled cops and pulled heat. Vin ran and found cover. The rest of the unit scattered around the street, hiding behind cover. There's Flass ducked inside an alley, Corrigan behind a beat-up hot dog stand, Burke behind a car like Vin.

Flass yelled, "Sound off, boys. Let me know you're alright."

Burke said, "I'm alive and kicking."

Corrigan said, "It'll take more than a little gunfire to kill Jim Corrigan."

Vin said, "I'm here."

Flass said, "Good. There is no doubt backup has already been called so we shall have to make this quick. After the next round of gunfire, Tommy and Jim and I will fire back and cover you, Vin. Look straight ahead and do not tarry."

Vin looked around confused. Then he saw. Side alley straight ahead. It cut to the right, doubling back behind the pawn shop. Backdoor and covering fire. He got it. He felt close to puking at the thought. More gunfire from the pawn shop. Vin took a deep breath. He made the sign of the cross. The first time in ten years. Where the **** did that come from? Gunfire lulled, it went ear-ringing quiet.

Flass said, "Now!"

Cop guns opened up. Vin ran. Vin sprinted. Vin went ****ing Jesse Owens across the street. He heard bullets snapped by his head, he felt bullets whiz in the air. Vin made the side alley tout de suite. He clung to the alley wall and tried to catch his breath. He couldn't catch it. Flass and company still firing, now Russians returning that fire.

GO!

He ran down the alley, kicked in the door. A backroom filled to the brim with random stuff Jewels, fur coats, blenders, guns, sex toys. Gunfire masked his door kick. He went through sloooow. There: Abramhoff and three other Ruskies with pistols and rifles. They took potshots at the cops outside, guns went dry at once. They all started to reload all at once.

Vin said, "GCPD!"

They looked up. They looked stunned. Abramhoff dropped his rifle, grabbing for a .38 on the table. Vin opened fire. Vin shot him in the face twice. Double-tap. He spun and shot another man going for a gun. The two Ruskies left standing panicked. They ran out the front door. They got lit up by the rest of the squad. Sixteen shots, all center mass. They were turned into pulp.

Flass ran in. Sirens now, loud and getting louder. Vin looked around. Stunned at the sight of blood and gore. He killed two men. Flass' large hand slapped him. It snapped him awake. Flass shook his shoulders.

"Vincent... where are the diamonds?"

*****​

The SWAT van skidded to a stop. Five armored men with submachine guns came out and ran towards the pawn shop. They stepped over two dead bodies. Sawyer skidded to a stop behind them. She came out, her service pistol in her hands. She jumped over the two dead bodies. She was in through the door right behind SWAT. Four men on their knees, showing GCPD badges. She cursed. Arnold Flass and his three thugs.

Flass caught her eye. He reeled off an account incident report dry. "At 0930 hours, a confidential informant tipped us to this location as a probable headquarters for the men who killed the armored car robbers. Upon arriving, me and my men were beset by gunfire. We were forced to return fire while Officer Gonzales went around the back and cornered the armed men. Upon identifying himself as a police officer, Gonzales was forced to shoot two armed men before they could fire upon him. After that, two other men came out with weapons and the rest of my team and I drew fire upon them, killing them instantly. A quick search of the premise revealed a large quantity of diamonds matching the description of those stolen yesterday afternoon."

Flass nodded. A big manila envelope at his knees.

Maggie said, "Two, Flass. There were two of those that were stolen."

Flass grinned wide. He ****ing winked. "There were two? We only found one."

 

Ugh. This class is soooo boring. I learned science of this caliber before I was ten. But yeah, lets make it a boring requirement for any college degree here at Midvale State. Blech.

The professor rambles on and on. And then a phone rings. He looks peeved, and I use my super hearing to zero in on the culprit... and then turn a bright shade of crimson. It's my phone. I quickly silence it in my bag, but not before Professor Kupperberg noticed and shot me a glare that would have melted steel had it come from my own eyes. "Ms. DANVERS. Please do go and answer that important call. Naturally I wouldn't want to inconvenience you. No. I DO insist."

The room goes silent and stares at me. I pull the phone out of it's pocket and answer without looking at who's calling.

"Um hi. Can I call you back? I'm in lectu"

"No Ms. Danvers, please do have your conversation." Kupperberg bellows.

"Linda, I wouldn't be calling if it weren't important. Mom and Dad want you to swing by to look at something."

"Did they say what?"

"No, but because you're their special snowflake it's probably something that they just want you for."

There it is. That jealousy again. Carol's been bitter since the Danvers took me in as a favor to Kal. I get it, I do. I uprooted her life. But I still wish she loved me as much as I love her.

"You should come with."

"Oh yeah. I'm sure they want their boring daughter to come too."

"No arguments. I'm picking you up at 3. Bye!"

"All done now? Good. Please do turn the ringer off, so the rest of the class doesn't have to hear your inane prattling conversations in the future."

With that he resumes his lecture, and I resume my clock watching. The last twenty minutes seem to take a decade, but 2:50 finally rolls around and the class gets dismissed.

"Linda! A word?"

He stops me as I'm heading for the door.

"Yes Professor?"

"You are a brilliant student, and one of the most gifted scientists I've seen in years, but if you interrupt my class like that again, I will ask you to drop. Not everyone comes as easily to physics as you seem to, and the rest of the class doesn't need distractions."

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

After that delightful conversation, I duck out the door and into a nearby lecture hall for Carol.

"Come on, let's go see Mom and Dad!"

********************
Half an hour later and we walk through the door of STAR Labs and get ushered into the lab that our parents are working in. The lab is huge, and I see why immediately. There's a giant piece of alien tech. No. Alien weaponry. It takes me a moment, but I recognize it for what it is.

"Mom! Dad! Where did you get this?!"

"Lara found it a few months ago. We managed to get it here and have been studying it for a few weeks. What's wrong honey?" Dad asks.

This is unmistakably Kree tech. Kree tech is unforgivingly dangerous in the wrong, or under educated hands. Without knowing exactly what this device is, it's hard to know what kind of damage it could do.

"This is a Kree weapon Dad. The Kree are one of the most imperialistic races in the galaxy. They tried to conquer Krypton once, and almost succeeded. I can't tell exactly what this thing does, but I'm willing to bet it's not good."

"Oh look at the snowflake again." I hear Carol mutter. Rao, she is so petty. But then with my hearing focused I notice something else. A pinging. Coming from the machine. It's sending out a signal.

"Did you guys press any buttons?"

"Of course, but none of them have done anything."

"One of them did. It's sending out a homing signal to the Kree fleet. They know it's here."

 

​

Mondays. I hate Mondays. Not for the reason most working people hate Mondays, but because the weekends are the busiest time for the criminal element. Which means, Mondays are the most painful days to be Matt Murdock.

I sit at my desk, alone in my office at Nelson & Murdock, letting the pain in my ribs and knuckles subside from the Advil. It’s not working. Not fast enough anyway. I’ve managed to tune out the daily distractions—phones, Karen’s typing, the smell of Foggy’s coffee breath—to try and find some peace and quiet to heal. And think…

It had been a routine weekend in the Kitchen. A few upstart criminals thought they could take on the Devil. They couldn’t. They lost. But still, there was something unsettling about what one of them said. It’s been replaying in my mind all morning: “The ninjas! The ninjas are moving into the city!”

“The Hand?” I’d asked.

“Nah, The Hand’s old news. It’s a new clan.”

A new clan of ninjas in New York setting their sights on the Kitchen? Impossible. But, still, worth investigating. It’s going to be a long week to be Daredevil.

“Matt!”

Karen’s voice shatters my thoughts, thoughts I was deep enough in that I never heard or smelled her coming.

“Yoo hoo, Earth to Matt.”

I look up, in the general direction of Karen’s voice, certain I’m not making eye contact from behind my red sunglasses, but, still, in the general proximity. “What is it, Karen.”

“I’ve been buzzing your phone. “

“I turned off the ringer.” I sense a hesitancy in Karen’s voice and movements, almost as if she wants to talk to me about something besides what she’s here about. Of course. She probably thinks I’m losing my mind. Anticipating an “are you okay?” from her, I add, “I’m fine. What’s up?”

“Jennifer Walters on line two.”

A few minutes later I walk into the reception area, pulling on my coat. I smell bagels. Foggy’s just gotten back from his morning bagel run. The office reeks of over processed wheat, yeast and—sniff sniff—cream cheese and lox.

“Matt, want a bagel?” Foggy’s voice calls from somewhere to my left—somewhere close to the wall; I can tell by the way the sound of his voice echoes. He’s by the trash can and his voice was thick and muffled as he filtered it through a mouthful of bagel, cream cheese and salmon.

“No time.”

“Where are you going?” asks Karen.

“Downtown.” I swing my head in the general direction of Foggy. “That was Jen Walters on the phone. Seems Ben Urich’s buddy from the Bugle got into some trouble—“

“Who? That Parker kid?”

“Yes. She was supposed to take the case from the public defender but I guess she’s a bit laid up at the moment.”

“I thought she healed remarkably from that gun shot?”

“She has,” I say. “But she says she’s dealing with some stuff. I don’t know. I didn’t ask. But something about her voice seemed…different.” My voice trails off as I try and dissect my conversation with Jennifer. Her voice had sounded different. Everything had a sense of a pleasant shock or surprise, as if something remarkable and unexpected had happened to her recently. But it was more than that. Her voice was physically different…deeper than normal, yes, but more powerful.

“Matt?” asks Karen. “What is it?”

I shake the cobwebs from my head. “Nothing. Forget it. Just haven’t talked to Jen in a long time. Not since the case against Owlsley blew up in our faces. “

“You know it’s not your fault she was shot.” Foggy’s voice is firm and steady. He really believes what he’s saying. He’s comforting me, consoling me. And he really believes that I believe I blame myself for what happened to Jen. But, I should. I mean, it was at least partially my fault. Wasn’t it?

“Thanks, Fog.” The layout of the office is familiar. I don’t need my cane. But going out into the city is another matter. I grab it, signaling that I’m leaving.

“Wait, you’re going now?” asks Foggy.

I chuckle. “He’s in jail and they’ve got him in questioning, so, yeah, I’m going now. In fact…” I flip open my watch dial and feel the hands. I mutter, mostly to myself, “I’m going to be late.”

“But…”

“I gotta go meet Jessica. She’s driving me down there.”

“Meet Jessica? Jessica Jones? Where is she anyway?”

I sniff. I can smell the scent of Dentine, Marlboros, coupled with the familiar interior of Jessica’s car. I also smell something else, not Jessica’s scent but the scent of someone who was physically close to Jessica very recently: Brute cologne. Luke Cage’s brand…oh really Jess? “She’s right out front,” I say, stifling a chuckle as I make a mental note to get details from Cage later.

I begin to walk out, exploring the areas to my front by tapping my cane.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Foggy calls after me. “What about that meeting? The woman suing the chemical company—TGRI or something.”

“TCRI,” I correct. “And you can handle it yourself, Foggy. Jennifer promised Ben she’d take care of Peter Parker, and I promised her. I’ve got to go.”

“Promised her? Matt, Matt, listen to me. You don’t owe her anything. What happened was not your fault!”

I don’t answer. I leave Foggy in the hallway, alone and confused, as the sound of my cane tapping on floor recedes.

Poor Foggy. But he’s wrong. I do owe Jennifer. And I owe Peter. I owe everyone. I broke a promise I made to my father: I do use my fists. Yes, I fight. But I fight for those who can’t fight for themselves. That’s how I justify it to my dead father, myself, and God. I’m a soldier in service. I’m not the bad guy. But I’m no angel either; I’m a devil, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And I owe everyone—everyone but myself.

 

Previously on...
​

Tony.

Tony, wake up.

I open my eyes to the color blue. Just blueness everywhere. What...? Where...?

If you don't respond, I'm going to be forced to surface on autopilot. Your oxygen stores are running low.

"Do it anyway," I say. I hadn't planned on being underwater today anyway, at least without some bikini clad beauties alongside me.

Welcome back, boss.


Still mildly disoriented, I relax and let Tina move me upwards. By the time I breach the surface, I've gotten my bearings and take back control.

"Thanks babe," I say, starting the flight back towards shore. "How long have I been out? It feels like it's been two weeks."

It has only been twenty minutes since the creature attacked you.

"Only twenty minutes?" I ask, arriving once more at the ruined Fujikawa building. The fire department appears to have shown up, and I'm getting no signs of a psionic presence, so maybe tall, dark, and cat-like flew the coop. "I've blacked out for longer, I guess. Any sign of where that thing went?"

Scanners indicate that it headed east after you freed it.

"Alright." I think for a moment, considering my options. "The Pacific is big and mostly empty, so we have some time before it reaches anywhere populated. I am faster than it, right?"

The data we have supports that, Tony.


"Okay, well data's what we're here for. Gathering intelligence on an enemy before rushing into a dangerous situation is what separates me from Batman."

You mean in regards to how he does that while you do not?


"Don't make me regret adding sarcasm to your programming, Tina."

Sorry, boss.

"I'll forgive it this time," I smirk. "Try to link up with what's left of the computers here and download anything potentially relevant to the psychic cat monster."

As Tina gets to work on that, I take another look around. What had impressed me before terrified me now. Fujikawa was to be my biotech crown jewel. Their research would have helped Stark Industries revolutionize the healthcare and agriculture industries after the merger. We could have cured cancer or ended world hunger.

But they went ahead and made a living weapon.

Download complete, sir. Much of the data is corrupt, however.

"Show me."

"Well, I don't know what a Pokémon is, but it seems like Mew 2.0 isn't what they expected. Regardless, I've got to stop it."

I may have found a way to do so, Tony. On my HUD, Tina illuminates a cabinet that had escaped major damage thus far. It's in there. Upon opening it, I find a small red and white sphere with a button on one end.

"The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch, I presume."

Data shows that it's a containment device for the creatures dubbed "Pokémon". It's a one-shot deal though. You miss, or Mew 2.0 has too much energy to resist, the device breaks.

"Make the shot count, got it."

Three steps and one engagement of thrusters later, I'm back in the wild blue yonder, chasing after Mew 2.0 at Mach 4.

 

​

*"Where is he?"

Young Dick Grayson turned his head, peering nervously over the back on the pew at the crowd assembled behind him in the church. A sea of somber faces, many with tears in their eyes, lined the wooden benches. All of Haley's Circus was here, as well as some of the more prominent faces from Gotham City, who had gotten to know his family quite well from the frequent trips to the city. Mr. Wayne sat near the back, and he gave a reassuring smile when his eyes met the youngsters. Behind him, in either corner, stood two men. The only two people standing in the whole church.

He recongized the first man, the older man, from the other night. That horrible, horrible night. Mr. Gordon, the police comissioner. His dad had become a bit agitated when he had showed up, and after a hushed conversation, he had led Dick up front to their seats.

The second man, Dick had seen around his father's office often. He had never really met him, but he didn't like the man, and he sensed his mother never did either. He wasn't very friendly when he heard him talking to his father. Zuchinni...? No, that was that gross bread his mother was always asking him to try. Now he wished he hadn't given her such a hard time. Zucco. That was it. It had seemed strange to Dick that he would show up, and it wasn't too long after that his father had excused himself to the restroom, and had never come back.

Dick turned back forward, facing the silk lined cherry box holding his mother. At 15 years old, Dick knew about death, but in the tiny little family that was the circus, he had never really experienced it, save for a few of the older animals. His first true encounter, hitting so close to home, sent his world into a tailspin. The pain, the confusion, he couldn't even begin to sort through it all. His father had hardly been around since it happened, and had barely offered the grieving boy any support. The others in the circus tried to consol him, tell him that his father was also suffering, but Dick was old enough to know he should have been there for him, they needed to lean on each other right now.

She looked so beautiful. She had always looked beautiful. She was the most beautiful person he had ever known. Her love knew no bounds, and that smile...he would never see it again. He would never see it after he nailed a difficult trick, or during a birthday, or those close family moments.

The organ music began, and Dick knew deep down at that moment that his dad would not be coming back. He had pulled another disappearing act, and like so often the past week, Dick was alone again.

He didn't know if he was ready for this.

-

"You are not ready for this!"

"I didn't ask for your opinion, and I didn't ask for your help. I didn't ask for any of this, and if there is a problem with who I am or what I'm doing, then I'll gladly leave."

"And then what? You're one man Robin Hood crusade continues. You single handedly save Gotham? Or more likely you just end up as a lost fifteen year old boy who's rage brings a tragic end to his life. Like your mother. Like your father."

"I'M NOT MY FATHER!"

Grayson put his fist through one of the many monitors hanging on the cave wall in front of him. Batman...Bruce...just stared the same cold hard stare that had been etched onto his face since they had returned to the cave this time. His young ward began to storm away, yellow cape billowing behind him.

"But YOU'RE sure acting like him. I'm beginning to feel right at home. Left alone all the time. Ignored. Thanks for making the transition so much easier."

The Batman slumped down in his seat. Dick knew that one had stung, but he didn't care. He couldn't contain the rage any longer. He had used the gun runners tonight to expel some of it, and it felt good to let a little more go.



"And then what do you do, if you make it all the way to The Penguin without your anger getting you killed? Do you kill him? Does that end all your pain, and you go on to live a happy, fulfilled life? Is this all just a simple revenge mission?"

"Do I want The Penguin dead? Yes. Him and Zucco."

Batman turned to face to young man.

"Then you are very much your father's son."

"SHUT UP!"

"You want to kill two men, out of personal anger, with no consideration for the law. How is that any different from the evil that plagues this city as it is."

The Dark Knight stood and approached Grayson.

"I understand your anger, your rage. I'm not saying they can't be great weapons, great motivators either. But you need to make them work for you, not control you. Channel them, focus them, use them to drive fear into the hearts of men like those who took your mother, who corrupted your father. I truly believe you do not want to be like your father, that you want to do good in this life. You're driven, motivated, and extremely gifted. So I'll make you this offer: If you agree to follow my teachings to the letter, if you will immerse yourself fully in training, then I will make sure that you be the kind of person that can bring men like The Penguin to true justice, without resorting to their deadly methods. I can make you a true force to be reckoned with. A hero."

Batman placed a hand on Dick's shoulder.

"You are not your father, Dick."

The boy took a second, gathering his thoughts as he stared at the ground.

Finally, he spoke.

"Robin."*

-

"I'm not my father."

Robin froze in mid swing. A small twinge of red was splattered across the green leather of his gloves.

"I'm not a killer."

The Boy Wonder looked down at the female assailant. A broken nose for sure. A busted open lip and some swollen cheeks. He calmed his breathing and stood up, his whole body shaking.

This was the danger of letting his rage guide him. He really felt that he could have killed this woman without a second thought. That was the evil that destroyed his father and killed his mother.

[BLACKOUT]"Salty," [/BLACKOUT]came a woozy voice, licking the blood from her lips.

"I think it's time for you to go nighty-night, sweetheart."

Robin rolled the woman on her stomach and cuffed her hands behind her back.

[BLACKOUT]"Name's Harley Quinn..."[/BLACKOUT]

"Yeah, that makes sense."

 

As I listen the pinging stops. That can't be good. The machine starts buzzing. Infrared vision shows me that there are waves of energy rolling off the machine now. It keeps getting worse.

"Mom. Dad. Carol. Get. Out. Of. Here."

Carol rolls her eyes at me. "Why? So you can be super special?"

"Rao, Carol, enough sass. The Kree will not hesitate to kill you to get this weapon back. And it's stopped broadcasting and started to warm up, so I'm betting it's owner is on his way."

I grab Carol by her shoulders and look her in the eye.

"Please sis, I can handle myself. Get to safety."

That's when I hear a sound that makes my blood run cold. The same sound I heard in holovids of the Kree invasion in Galactic History class. The deactivation of the cloaking device of a Kree warship. I blink and my vision changes to x-rays and I see a small vessel land outside. The only passenger is a lone Kree pilot.



The hatch opens and he steps out, and both my parents and sister are still in this room.

"Nevermind. He's here. Just hide somewhere!"

 

​

I finally catch sight of Mew 2.0 a few knots west of Hawaii's big island. It seems to have shed the armor somewhere along the way, and it was flying low, with it's hind legs about a foot above the waves. I'm about a hundred yards behind, and a mile up. I doubt that it's seen me yet. I don't know what its plan is, or even if it's sentient enough to have a plan, but I know what it can do. I won't let it hurt anyone else.

So I tackle it from above, driving it underwater. I've got no idea if Mew 2.0 needs to breathe or not, but I hope that the sudden impact and submersion will disorient it at least.

It works, but not as well as I'd hoped. I'm only able to get a handful of punches in before Mew 2.0 telekinetically throws me off and forces us both back out into the open air. I'm ready for it this time around, and I regain control quickly to resume the chase.

There's no need to, though. The chase is over. It appears that Mew 2.0 is ready to stand (hover?) and fight. I'm very okay with that.

~WHO ARE YOU?~
~WHAT DO YOU WANT?~
~ARE YOU MY CREATOR?~
~WHAT IS MY PURPOSE?~

Each syllable is burned into my brain, like getting a flaming tattoo behind each eye. I hear myself scream out in pain. Though, for the life of me, I don't know what I said. Probably some sort of profanity, knowing me. Tina screams as well, and I can feel the armor shudder around me. For a fleeting moment, I regret including the psionic connection. It's a weakness that JARVIS never had. My mid is quickly changed when Tina does something JARVIS never could.

Instinctively, Tina lashes out at Mew 2.0, firing twin repulsor blasts at the freaky little bastards. The beams strike it mid-torso, knocking it back. The psionic agony subsides. Yes, I've designed an A.I. with instincts. I'm Tony Stark and I'm awesome. Do try and keep up.

Sorry boss, that hurt.

"Don't worry. I was a nanosecond away from doing the same." I see that Mew 2.0 had recovered from the tailspin the repulsors sent him into and is coming back for more. "Let's tear this purple **** a new one!"

I send more repulsor blasts Mew 2.0's way, randomly switching between rapid fire pulses and strong streams of energy. The Pokémon weaves in and out of the repulsor storm, dodging what it can and taking the shots that do hit it like a champ. It responds with a volley of glowing purple orbs, which quite frankly hurt when they hit.

"Enough of this," I toss out a neural disruptor bomb to stun Mew 2.0 temporarily as all of its nerve cells have a panic attack all at once. Then I unleash my entire arsenal at once. Missiles, repulsors, more neural disruptors, and most importantly, my unibeam. Each one hits home, but as beat up as it looks, Mew 2.0 is still standing when the smoke clears. Barely standing, but still, not what I'd hoped for.

"Well," I say, "time to field test this containment device we found." I raise my arm, aiming a fist at my almost-defeated opponent. Tina ripples around me, sending the red and white orb along the back of my arm before launching it at Mew 2.0.

The wacky little "Pokéball" bounces off of Mew 2.0's chest and, for a minute, I think that it won't work. Then the device opens, sending out a beam of pinkish energy and sucks Mew 2.0 into it before snapping shut and returning to my hand. It shakes a few times before settling down and making a tiny "ping" sound. Impressive little thing, reminds me a lot of what that Spengler guy built for ghost-catching.

"Tina, how's the recovery effort going at Fujikawa's lab?"

Quite well, boss. The fire department has it under control.

"Good, 'cause we're halfway home already." I start the flight back to California. "One more thing, Tina. Send word to Pepper. Tell her that Fujikawa is dealing in bioweapons. I suggest taking the merger offer off the table, and we just buy the company outright. I think we should tear it apart, take what's useful, and toss the rest to SHEILD or Checkmate."

Fujikawa promised a better world. They lied to me. They don't get off easy after doing that. Especially when Iron Man has to clean up their mess.

The Singular Universe Presents​

in conjunction with​

The Basement Productions
​

SuperFerret is Tony Stark
in
Iron Man
Infallible​

[YT]d2Rqyh3Ig_A[/YT]

 

​

Four heartbeats. One of which is incredibly fast and agitated...nervous even. That's got to be Parker. Two of the remaining three heart beats are strong and steady, almost like when a person is exercising, or making love. Those two folks, probably the arresting officers, are loving this right now.

The other heart beat is steady, but weak. Nothing seems to stimulate it. Slow, laborious, the sound of fluid straining to flow through congested heart valves. The public defender. And, I'm no doctor, but I wouldn't be surprised to learn there's a heart attack in his future.

"Gentleman," I say to the table. "My name's Matt Murodck and I'm Mr. Parker's attorney."

"Sounds good to me." The public defender is already packing his briefcase and preparing to leave.

The two officers--Maguire and Garfield (must be Holland's day off)--exchange pleasantries with me. I can tell by the tones of their voices they are not sincere. I know what they're thinking. "Yes, I'm a lawyer," I say. "And I'm blind."

"Yeah, well--"

"Actually, officer, I need a couple of minutes with my client."

"Sure," one of the officers says. "I need more coffee anyway. C'mon, Maguire, let's give these two love birds their alone time."

I sit with a sly yet irritated smile on my face until the two officers leave the room.

As soon as the door closes, Peter's gums are flapping, going on and on about his Aunt May and her electric bill, something about a test, and how he can't afford me. I hold up my hand to indicate silence, but it still seems to be forever before Peter stops talking.

"You're a college student, Peter. Of course you can't afford me. I'm doing this as a favor for Jen Walters and Ben Urich. And for you. I will take your case pro bono, but I have to ask you some questions first and I need you to be honest with me."

While I've never actually seen a police interrogation room before, I'm familiar with the way they look thanks to watching shows like NYPD Blue with my dad as a kid. I know somewhere to my right I can hear the breathing and heartbeats of Maguire and Garfield. I cock my head in that direction and ask Peter if there is a two way mirror. He says there is. I nod. "Then keep that in mind as you tell me your story: they're listening."

I take an audio recorder from my brief case, turn it on and set it in the middle of the table.

"First of all Peter, what I gathered in my conversation with Ms. Walters, you're being charged with breaking into Curt Connors' lab and stealing a some kind of biological sample? Now, did you do it?"

"And if not, tell me everything about what you did last night. And remember Peter, I need you to be honest with me..."

 

​

Welcome home, sir.

"Good to be home, JARVIS." JARVIS was the first A.I. I'd ever developed, and he's undergone far more revisions than any other. For a while, he was just my house A.I., my robotic butler. Then he was my Iron Man armor, and had been until I developed Tina. Most recently, I've installed him on the JLA Watchtower satellite, although I'm working on a version that will eliminate the need for monitor duty. No matter what may come, though, JARVIS is home for me, and I don't forsee that changing.

Boss?

"You're off-duty now, Tina."

She peels off of me, leaving behind the endoskeleton I wear underneath. Tina's amazing, but her liquid metal body doesn't allow for the weapon arrays and flight capabilities I've grown accustomed to as Iron Man, hence the endoskeleton for the armor. Tina pools on the floor momentarily before taking her independent form. Rhodey's accused me of modeling her after Pepper, as if I weren't over my ex. I responded to that accusation with the truth: Tina is my perfect woman. She's drop-dead gorgeous, highly intelligent, and shiny. It also helps that she's perpetually nude. Well, in a featureless, mannequin sort of way.

"You're staring," she says, smirking as she sashays away.

"Just admiring my masterpiece," I respond, allowing the endoskeleton to retract into a small chest plate that I can wear comfortably. Did I mention that it's collapsible? It is. "JARVIS, how are things in the world today?"

The military seems very pleased by your recent contribution, sir. Though there are some early complaints from the private sector about the cost per suit.

I laugh and take a seat of the leather sofa, lounging back as Tina returns with my fruit smoothie. Ah, mango juice. Lovely. "That's the point, JARVIS," I say. "They get the blueprints to some of my old suits, but very few will be able to build a fully functional one. Wayne, Luthor, Gates. Maybe Trump. It's my sneaky way of staying on top. Pretend to encourage innovation while I'm ten steps ahead of the next guy."

I take a long sip of my drink, enjoying the flavors. God, do I wish there was vodka in it. "Anyway, Rhodey knows I'm whipping something special up for our boys. Once I finish, the One Man Army Corps will be the top of the line for protecting Earth from the superpowered threats of the universe."

"I'm confused," Tina says, curling up against me, "I thought you were done designing weapons?"

"You're young," I say, tracing the line of her jaw with a finger. It even surprises me at how warm she is to the touch. "The OMACs are to be a peace-keeping force with mostly non-lethal ordinance. I'm even decking them out in UN Blue, and they'll be able to connect to the Watchtower's new A.I. upgrade to get up to the minute intel on whatever crisis we're dealing with."

"Hell, if I do this right, I'll be putting Superman out of a job."

 

"Ah-heh, heh-heh-heh-heh..."

Blood oozed out of The Joker's mouth. Judging by the way the fight with Robin was going, it seemed like Harley Quinn wouldn't be needing his help to call her off.

"Please, do, Batman. Do cut me up and send me to Arkham in pieces. Only you won't, will you? Because you don't kill. Do you think that makes you a good person?"

The Joker swung a punch into Batman's gut, but with his body armor, the blow ended up just hurting The Joker's hand. He recoiled backwards, staggering down the boardwalk.

"What good have you actually done? This city always was and always will be a hellhole... all you've done is draw out even worse demons to haunt it. But that... pffft!"

He paused to spit out a tooth.

"That presupposes the notion that you have any interest in changing Gotham or ending the madness. And I don't think you do. I think you want to wade in it, because it's not about stopping crime or saving lives, it's about always having something to punch. Because terrorising people and breaking their bones is the only thing that gets you HARD, am I right?"

The Joker stopped walking away and turned to face Batman once more. He pointed an accusatory finger over at Robin and Harley Quinn, a lopsided grin on his face.

"And judging by that handcuffed young woman who's been pounded into tenderised meat over there, you've taught your little sidekick to be just as hateful and angry and damaged as you. You disapprove of Harley Quinn, do you? I took an emotionally vulnerable soul and manipulated them to my own ends, made them into a twisted little mirror image of myself and sent them out to wreck havoc in Gotham in my name. I learned that from you and your Robin project."

The Joker stretched out his arms, ready for the next onslaught from his nemesis.

"And I bet you won't even admit to yourself that you secretly want him to die. Because think of all the pain it'll cause, how angry it'll make you, and how you'll be able to feed off all that rage to strike more terror into Gotham's underworld! Tell me, Batman... does the thought of that get you HARD, too? HAHAHAHAHA!"

 

​

Space. The final frontier.

Or so they say. In reality, we know a lot about the ocean of space, and the people who live in it. Over the past few years, I've personally encountered Skrulls, Romulans, Neogi, Kryptonians, Xenomorphs, Mandalorians, Thanagarians, and one particularly vile Czarnian. Hell, right now, there's a green Martian sitting no more than ten feet away from the console I'm working at. He's a friend, same as the Kryptonian. As for the rest, they're the reason I'm working so hard. Once Brother Eye is finished being installed on the Watchtower, our pretty blue orb will be equipped to fight off any invading alien force that comes knocking.

"Do you need any help, Tony?" The Martian Manhunter asks.

"No, I've got it here, J'onn," I reply. "Actually, I'm. Just. About. Done." I put the finishing touches in and shut the console. "Thanks though. Did you find anything out?"

I swivel my chair around to face him. He stands holding the Pokéball I've captured Mew 2.0 inside in one hand, his pronounced brow furrowed.

"This Mewtwo creature is truly intriguing," he says. "His mind is full of rage. Rage towards something unknown. Rage searching for a direction." J'onn sighs and shakes his head sadly. "He is alone in the world, and he knows it. He feels that his creators have abandoned him."

"Welcome to life as an atheist."

"Tony, both you and I have walked among gods," J'onn scolds me. His intense red eyes stare at me, reminding me of an old tutor I had as a child. Funny, I'd almost forgotten all about her. If I didn't know any better, I'd say J'onn invoked that memory on purpose.

"True," I reply, "but you said that with a lowercase 'g'." I stand up and stretch. Sitting hunched over a computer for hours can really put a crick in your neck. "You find out anything else?"

"He respects you greatly," the Martian chuckles, tossing me the ball. "You subdued him, and he thinks of you as his master." I hold the device up, examining it again. I'm impressed. Looks like I've got a pet.

"Good to know." I put the ball in my pocket. It could come in handy later on. "So," I clap my hands, "are you ready to never have monitor duty again?"

 

​

"Man, this is really bad. I thought we had kicked Rita and Zedd's butts back out into space for good."

[BLACKOUT]"We all did, Rock. For them to bring the fight back to us, they have to have something truly evil up their sleeves."[/BLACKOUT]

Rocky sighed and kicked the crutch leaning against his coffee table.

"It's a stupid injury. I got careless, missed a step. I knew as soon as I planted and heard the pop it was my back."

[BLACKOUT]"Don't beat yourself up, Rocky. I happens to the best of us."[/BLACKOUT]

"But you guys need me right now. I'm letting the team down."

Tommy stood up and patted his old friend on the back.

[BLACKOUT]"You worry about getting yourself healthy. I'll keep in touch."[/BLACKOUT]

-

Tommy stepped outside and let the warm California sun bathe over his face. It was a momentary relief from the worries of the world weighing him down.

He had come to Rocky first since he was still in Angel Grove. His bad back was going to keep him down for at least 6 months though, and Tommy knew that whatever Rita and Zedd were planning, they wouldn't have the time to spare.

Maybe it was time to go see her. He would never ask her to give up her dreams, it had been hard enough seeing her leave but he knew it was a path she needed to follow. The Pink Power Coin had been left in good hands at the time, but now Katherine was out of the fight, and there was only one other person who was skilled enough to wield that power.

The Pan Global Games were in full swing in Miami. Checking the street around him to make sure nobody was watching, Tommy activated his communicator, and in a flash of white light he was gone.