The Create-A-Post Thread

It was dark on the secluded suburban street. Houses with white-picket fences lined the road. American. Classic. Perfect. Outside one house, a green Subaru Outback was parked, windows up, engine off. Two men sat inside.

"How long ago did they finish dinner?" The one in the driver's seat asks.

He's well-built. Not thin or lean, per se, but strong. Hardly what could be considered overweight. A brown trenchcoat enveloped his frame, and a brown fedora was over his gaze slightly.

"From what I can tell?" His cohort asked before continuing, "About a half hour."

"We're good to go, then."

"Yep."

They got out, and he driver walked around the front of the car, joining his lanky and pale companion. The streetlights cast some light on the pair as they glared at the house in front of them. The passenger heaved a pair of leather gloves out of his pocket.

"Gloves? Really?"

"You never know."

They made their way up the walkway to the front door and rang the doorbell.

A woman, who looked strikingly like Diane Lane, answered.

"Can I help you boys?" She asked happily.

"Yeah. Your son. We're friends of his from school. You're hot, by the way." As he spoke, the man's gaze fell into a black hole of cleavage directly under the woman's neck. "Good. God. Anyway. Your boy, is he in?"

Somewhat taken aback, the woman nodded and closed the door as she called upstairs.

After a few seconds, a young man took her place. Though he did not recognize the men in his doorway, he knew that they recognized him.

The large man heaved his fist back and slammed it into the boy's jaw. He stumbled back a moment, before the lanky man kicked him in the shin. Hard.

"I'm grammar."

"I'm dialog."

"Stop ****ing us up."

The two promptly ran away, giggling, before calling out, once more.

"Your mom's really hot!"
​

 

Byrd Man Inc.
Presents a Fan Fic Based on an Idea by Byrd Man
Loosely inspired by Syn


The Bystander

"Eric, have a seat." Mister Peterson says as I walk into his office.

I plop down in the chair across from Peterson's desk as he puts his hands together and looks across at me.

"You have been doing a stellar job here at M&J...Real fine, but with tax season almost over...we are cutting back on our part-time staff."

"Are you getting rid of me?" I ask gingerly.

"Well, that is what I wanted to talk to you about..."

BOOM!

An explosion rocks the office building and sends me flying out of my chair.

Pulling myself up by Peterson's desk, I catch a glimpse of a green clad figure flying up into the sky.

"Goddamn Green Goblin! I told John we should move our offices from the same building as the Daily Bugle, but no!" Peterson says as he pulls himself back up.

"Where was I?" He says as he fixes his glasses.

"The, uh part-timers..."

"Oh, yes." He says with a slight chuckle. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a figure shooting webs out of his arms as he travels after the Goblin.

"Well, we are cutting back on out part-time employment...but we want to add you on full time. You've done a bang up job and I want to keep you on."

I smile widely as I jut my hand out.

"Thank you, sir!" I say as I pump Peterson's hand furiously.

"Don't thank me, son. You made my decision easy. Now, get out of here...it's 5. Go celebrate...and be here at 8 sharp!"

I nod as I start to leave the office.

"Oh, and uh you might want to stay from the bathroom for the next few hours. The news said that Joker poisoned the reservoir again."

"Dang. You know, last time he did it I had to go two whole days without a bath."

"Heh. Yeah, my wife wouldn't come anywhere near me because of my smell."

********

My little Honda shakes and rattles over the noise of my radio as I travel down the highway towards my small apartment.

"News coming in today, the Red Skull announced to the UN Security Council his plan to hold the world hostage with nuclear arms stolen from the former USSR, he demanded a billion dollars in six hours. In response to this, the UN approached Captain America who resolved the issue in a matter of two hours. Red Skull is now in UN custody...again...now on to local news, Daily Planet staff writer Lois Lane got more than she bargained for as she fell fifteen stories during a recent photo shoot at the Finger Building. Luckily the man of steel-"

WHAM!

My car stops dead in it's tracks as a massive green object lands on the hood.

"HULK SMASH!!!" I almost pee my pants as the green giant prepares to smash into my windshield.

"Oh, no you don't!" A robotic voice calls out as it slams into Hulk.

The metallic man picks Hulk up and tosses him into the distance, he takes flight and follows after him.

Leaving me stuck on the freeway with my smashed engine.

*********

"What do you mean it isn't covered? I think Hulk landing on my car counts as an accident! I pay my premium and then some!"

"I'm sorry, sir. Lexcorp Insurance does not cover any damage in which a mutant, metahuman, or demi-god."

I throw my hands up in the air in frustration as I pace in my small apartment.

"Are you kidding me?! How am I suppose to go to work?!"

"That's not our problem."

The voice on the other end of the line hangs up on me as I toss my cellphone on the couch.

I hear a soft rapping at my door and a voice on the other side.

"Eric? Everything okay in there?"

My heart starts to pound as I go to the front door.

"Uh, no...just having some problems with my insurance." I say as I open the door.

Felicia Hardy. My next door neighbor for five years. She's single, has blonde hair, likes yoga, kittens, and old action movies. I've had a crush on her since she moved in...I still haven't acted on it.

"I saw. Did you run across The Hulk?"

"Yeah, actually."

She laughs a bit and tries to cover it up.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing...."

"It's okay. Today wasn't all bad. I got promoted at work."

"Congrats."

I swallow hard and look her in the eyes as my hear races.

"Would, uh...would you be interested in going out tonight and celebrating with me?"

"No, I'm sorry." She says with a pouty face.

"I have plans tonight. I'm meeting someone uptown."

You idiot. You loser. You stupid jerk.

"Yeah, I understand that...sorry for asking, I should have know you had a boyfriend."

"It's not that. He's just a friend...well, it's complicated really...."

"You don't have to explain to me." I put on my best fake smile.

"Well, I should be going. Way to go on the promotion, I promise you we'll go out and celebrate some other time."

"Sure thing." I say with a smile as I close my door.

I walk slump shouldered to my couch and plop on it.

Just another day here in Champion City.
​

 

Blacklight presents...

Hype! RPGs:
[blackout]THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD[/blackout]​

Today's episode: FURY OF THE GOBLIN! pt.1

featuring Blacklight and Ultimate Spider-Man!​

Wow... Strangest thing happened today...​

I don't know how it was possible. Call it the good ol' "Parker luck", but somehow... Some way...​

I met Spider-Man!​

I met this kid... From a different universe!
​

It was a rather... peculiar day in New York City for both Peter Benjamin Parker and Jonathan Small, as they both, up to this point, have never really crossed paths with any inter-dimensional heroes before (if you discount the Squadron Supreme that is...), so for the teenaged duo, this adventure was certainly crossing into new territory.

But something was happening that only the two of them could stop, because should they fail, the universes that they reside in as they know them will be torn apart.

"So... What did you say your name was again?" Spider-Man asked the black-haired hero that was flying beside him as he released himself from his web to create yet another when he pressed his fingers into the triggers in his palm.

"Oh right... Sorry. My name is Blacklight." He answered to the wallcrawler nervously, afraid of making a bad first impression to one of his greatest heroes and inspirations.

"Okay, Blacklight. And let me get this straight... You're saying that where you're from, I'm just a character in a comic book written by some middle-aged bald dude who turned a different version of Norman Osborn into a hero of the public?"

"Unfortunately, yes..."

"Right. And this 'Quesada' guy, he made me make a deal with the devil and erased my marriage to Mary Jane from ALL of existance?"

"That's correct, I'm afraid... Quite the sting to the eyes I got from reading that one..."

"Hey, BL. Do me a favor?"

"What's that, Spidey?"

"Don't ever let me see these two guys if I ever happen to stumble into your universe... Because I think I just might introduce them to my friends 'Power' and 'Responsibility' here..." Spider-Man answered as he showed Blacklight both of his fists.

"Trust me, Pete. I don't think I'd have to stop you as much as you'd have to stop me..." Blacklight jested as he pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand...

"I'll tell you what... You can have both of them if you save me Loeb. I wanna teach that butthole not to mess with THIS universe..."

"Deal."

Then as Spider-Man reached the end of his arc, he managed to shake hands with Blacklight in mid-air before he shot out another zipline...


So yeah, I got to meet the one and only Spider-Man today...

I met this kid from another universe, and his name was Blacklight...​

He's pretty cool...​

But that was just the start of things to come...

Because little did we know, that us meeting each other was no coincidence...​

It was the start of a plot that could potentially destroy both our worlds...

I blame the good ol' Parker luck on that one...​

But I had a feeling that together...

We were gonna save the day.​

Blacklight and Spider-Man...

Spider-Man and Blacklight...​

Yes. It was quite the peculiar day in New York City on Earth-1610, for this was the first crossing of paths out of many. Two of the multiverse's Bravest and Boldest setting out to save the universe from destruction...

After all, these heroes (and many more) are all about to learn that there's strength in numbers.

 

Blacklight presents...

Hype! RPGs:
[blackout]THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD[/blackout]​

Today's episode: FURY OF THE GOBLIN! pt.2
​

"Tell me about this 'interesting propostion' you said you had, Mr... What was your name again?" Norman Osborn, known as the Green Goblin to few, asked the red and black armored young man standing before him.

"The name's Infrared, and it seems we both got a mutual problem..." The armored arch-nemesis of Blacklight, a title he holds alongside the nefarious Nightking, told Osborn as he showed a holographic image from his gauntlet of Blacklight and Spider-Man in New York of Earth-1610, searching the skyline for their foes.

"The kid followed me here after that close call we had back on my world, Osborn. So I'm here to offer you my services. I kill them both for a share in the spoils..."

Norman realised at that moment since now this 'Blacklight' character was in the picture, one of his and Infrared's earth's own best heroes no less, something of which Osborn had discovered upon his own excursion throught that dimension, then now the Goblin's troubles have just doubled. Literally. Having Parker on his tail was bad enough, so at this point, the Goblin was looking for any advantage he could get so his plans could come to fruition...

"Whaddya say, Goblin? We got a deal?"

"Hmm... That is quite the interesting proposition, Infrared. Okay then. I'll humor you. Kill the Spider and his friend, and you get a spot in my new world order." The Goblin agreed, his demonic voice not even phasing Infrared as they shook on it. Frankly, Infrared was too busy smiling to notice...

* * *
​

"Really? You haven't seen him? Green skin, pointy ears, a face that can scare your grandma into a heart attack? He isn't too hard to miss..."

"Get bent, bug..."

"I prefer 'arachnid', thank you..."

The criminal continued to taunt the two heroes as they tried to successfully interrogate the man. However things weren't going well, despite their best efforts. One of those efforts being his hanging upside down from a strand of webing held by Spider-Man himself as they had him strung over the 7-story building overlooking an ally below, where the criminal would become a nasty looking street pizza should Peter accidentally let loose, although it didn't seem to phase the man.

Parker then turned to his new companion, Jon Small aka Blacklight, cupping his hand next to his mouth and whispering quietly enough for the criminal not to hear.

"Looks like he ain't talking anytime soon, BL. Any suggestions?"

"Here. Let me try."

Spider-Man then looked as BL floated off the ledge of the building and descended next to the criminal, smiling as his inverted eyes looked into the criminals own.

"Hi there. Name's Blacklight. Care for a 'lift'?"

Before the criminal could even respond, Blacklight ripped the webbing from which the criminal was suspended and flew up into the sky, almost reaching the clouds in a matter of moments before finally stopping. The criminal flailed widly from the webbing as BL tried to keep hold of the webline.

"Hey! Hey let me down!!" he shouted as he continued flailing about.

"Careful with the thrashing about there, buddy! Wouldn't want you to fall... I mean, after all, from this height... Let's just say it would be quite the mess to clean up."

"PUT ME DOWN!! This isn't FUNNY!!!"

"You're right. It's not funny. But you becoming a stain on the pavement is... So how about you tell me where I can find Osborn before I slip?"

* * *
​

Seconds later, Blacklight had gently glided down below from the sky, the snitch in tow, before landing atop the same building Spider-Man was still waiting on. From there he dropped the criminal on the concrete, and Spider-Man had his arms crossed.

"Have fun up there?"

"What? It helps to be able fly..."

"Showoff."

"C'mon. I got a lead on the Goblin..."

The Spider-Man fired a webline that adhered to a flagpole and Blacklight had flew after him. They were on a mission to defeat the Goblin at all costs, and they were ginna do it. The fate of their worlds depended on it.

 

Vincent Tyler shut off his TV when it got to be around midnight after watching a marathon of Tales from The Crypt. He rubbed his eyes, exhausted from the long day, he had just barely started on his Spring Break with his friends, what with swimming, biking, and good old sex, drugs and rock and roll. His parents were out of town, and it was only him and his younger sister, so he had almost complete reign over his time.

He stripped down to his shorts and a t-shirt and climbed into his bed. His head rested on his pillow and before too long, his eyes grew heavy and finally closed.

*********
Vincent opened his eyes to find himself standing in the middle of a street. It was dark except except for the moonlight giving the nearby tree shadows, , the wind was brutally cold and it blew damp leaves from the street gutters. Vincent was chilled to the bone, as he clad mearly in his bedwear, he shivered and looked down the street, seeing nothing but pitch black at either side of him. The moonlight narrowed down and practically left a single house illuminated.

​

While he definately did not want to, Vincent's foot moved him towards the house. He couldn't stop, his bare feet stepped onto the porch and his hand was forced forward by an invisible force to clasp the doorknob and turn it to open. Vincent tried to resist going in, but the violent jolt from behind flung through the doorway and the door swung shut behind him.

The interior of the house was nothing like the outside, which was clean and decent enough. Inside, the place looked torn to pieces. Every window had been broken in and boarded up, the floorplanks had been ripped up, the wallpaper was peeling and stained. Vincent walked down the dilapitated hall, wincing in pain everytime a splinter of wood or a piece of broken glass stuck into his bare feet, but he kept walking. He past the stairwell and found a door under it, it creeked open slowly on it's hinges to reveal wooden steps down to the basement. He stepping down and the door closed behind him, he tried to open it, but the doorknobbed crumbled into dust, leaving him no choice but to continue on down.

I was much hotter down in the basement then the upstairs, Vincent could hear a crackling fire and saw orange flickering light across the wall. His foot touched the concrete landing, it was seering hot, like sand in Death Valley, the basement itself was cluttered, old, grim in every corner, with a massive cast iron furnace at far side of the room.

Vincent moved away the furnace, he was being slow fried as it was at the opposite side of the room. He past by boxes full of children's books, toys, dolls, some of them burned or ripped up, and he put his back to the wall next to a tall cabinet.

He bumped into the tall wooden box, causing it to open slightly. Vincent saw some sort of glint inside, he took ahold of the hook handle, it was freezing cold, and opened the simple door all the way.

Inside, a strange scarecrow-like figure was hung up. It was made of what seemed to be straw and twig with red and green horizontal stripes painted across the torso. The face looked scorched, red and black marbles for eyes. a gaping mouth with wooden teeth that appeared to be rotting.

Vincent reached towards the scarecrow thing with curious hand, poking it in the midsection. The second his finger touched it, the torso split in half and like a pinata, stuff fell out. He looked down at puddle of putrid green slime at his feet, disgusting eel-like creatures writhing and gnashing their little teeth into his toes.

Vincent tried to step away, but the scarecrow's left arm shot out and grabbed him about the throat. The head turned with it's wicker neck snapping to face the terrified young man. It spat coagulated blood on his face, Vincent wretched and vomited, but with the grip on his throat, it only oozed slowly from his mouth.

As the rotted blood ceased to flow, the nightmare scarecrow spoke in the most frightening, demonic voice he would ever hear.

"Your no use to me!"

The next thing Vincent knew was the most intense pain in his neck, the taste of his own vomit, and the dark laughter ringing in his eyes before he cut to black.

*********

"Vincent, come on get up, it's your turn to do laundry." Ellie called through her older brother's door. There was not an answer.

"Dammit Vince, I did your chores twice this week, you could at least do your share for once!"

She pounded on the door with her fist before remembering her parents took off his lock. "Alright, suit yourself, I'll drag you out." Ellie said, turning the knob and stepping in.

Ellie screamed and fell to her knees at the sight. Her brother was lying on his bed, soaked with his blood, a puddle of crimson vomit around his head, in his eyes, in his nostrils. His torso had been opened, four long vertical slashes from neck to groin.

Ellie stumbled out of her dead brother's room and made a run for the door outside. She opened it and found that there was no outside, there was a filthy tunnel, and standing at the far side was the dark, twisted figure of a man.

​

Ellie slammed her door closed and turned around to run for the nearest phone. But when ran into the kitchen, he was there, and in a moment of violent struggle, he had her against the fridge, the burned flesh of his ratty face contorted into a sick sneer, his glove of knives against her face. He brought his replusive face close to her face, his stinking hot breath against her neck.

"Now, you'll do, you'll do just fine."

The nightmare man wagged his tounge at her perversly, and licked a trail of tears from her cheek.

********

That morning, the police were at the scene. They taped off the house and were right at work surveying the carnage. Coroners were busy with the body of young Vincent, reporter from the local news were getting a story, a man was now trying to reached the deceased's parents.

Sitting out in an ambulance was Ellie, wrapped in a blanket, a dead blank look in her eyes. The paramdics found no serious damage to her physical start, albeit some minor cuts and bruises. But her mental state was severely damaged, she was distant, like she wasn't even aware of her surroundings. She didn't speak any sense, only repeating the same phrase over and over.

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you."


One out of four, and then.......

 

With

Location: Earth 36.
Morning;

Sixteen Contestants sit in the waiting room, it's nearly time to go into the Board Room, meet Professor Charles Xavier and discuss the first task, as well as the prizes and conditions.

Eight Boys and Eight Girls, fighting to be the next Apprentice of Professor Charles Xavier, under assistance by Doctor Stephen Strange and Jeanette Summers-Grey.

GIRLS - Ms Marvel, Mockingbird (Post-Secret Invasion), Storm, Emma Frost, Jessica Jones, Polaris, Arachne.

BOYS - Hercules, Amadeus Cho, Angel, Wonder Man, Iron Fist, Captain America II, Nick Fury, Human Torch.

"You may go in now" Hazel Donovan, the secretary, said. She leaned over the desk, smiling at the contestants. The contestants nodded and slowly walked into the Board Room, clutching their suitcases.

There was a thin table, placed horizontally. Across the table sat, Doctor Stephen Strange, Professor Charles Xavier and Jeanette Summers-Grey.
"Welcome. You lot should be lucky that I, Jeanette and Stephen chose you sixteen superheroes to travel to Earth-36 and compete to be my next super heroic Apprentice. You don't have to be a mutant to be taught by me. Now. The prizes. The first prize is: You get to be my Apprentice, the second prize: Don't exist. Now, you all know me very well. It's time for me to introduce my two companions and why I choose them." Professor Charles Xavier greeted. The men sat at one end of the table and the women sat at the other end of the table. Six of the men and women were seated and two of the men and women stood.
"Well. On my right and your left, is Doctor Stephen Strange, who you shall address as Dr Stephen. I chose Strange because he's a bloody powerful, smart and heroic superhero. Plus, he was the freaking Sorcerer Supreme. I wasn't. He was. And then on my left and your right we have one of my ex-top students, the sexy but deadly Jeanette Summers-Grey who you shall address as Jean Grey. I chose Jean, because she's died enough times to know when your tasks are going down hill. Also, she's dealt with a pretty big amount of Power, so she knows when you're overusing your abilities for personal gain."
"Hello Ladies and Gentlemen." "Good morning guys."

The contestants greeted Dr Stephen and Jean Grey back with a few waves, smiles and "Hello's".
"Now. To save Professor Charles having to speak any longer, I shall explain today's task. You're task today is to set up a small newspaper stand business, make a deal with a newspaper factory and start producing your own Newspaper. One of you will make a deal with the Daily Globe and one of you will make a deal with the Daily Bugle. Your team leader will instruct you who is the Photographer, who is the Gossip section writer, who is the news section writer, who is the headline/main story writer, who is the sports writer, who does the children comic strips/the sexual helplines, who is the person in charge of the advertisement and who then the team leader will be the Editor-In-Chief. Plus, about four of you will be at the stand and four of you will be at a shopping center" Jean Grey explained. The team seemed happy and liked the idea, nods and cheers were thrown from the crowd.

"And at the end of the day. One of you will be fired. One of you will go home and one of you will cry for the rest of your life that you never came near to this opportunity. Me and Jean will gather up all the information, give to Charles and then Charles will decide the winning team. Then. We will contradict everything you say, call the team leader and their chose two members to stay behind and have a go at them. Those three will leave whilst me, Jean and Charles debate on whether who should go. Then those three will be called back in, shouted at some more and one of you will be fired. Simple" Dr Stephen explained.

"Great. Now. Jean you're with the boys and Stephen your with the girls. Don't underestimate these two. Now, four cars await outside, two for the boys (not including Jean) and two for the girls (not including Dr Stephen. The girls will arrive at an abounded Avengers Mansion where they will get their equipment. The boys will arrive at an abounded Xavier Institute. Remember don't be surprised they're abounded, this is Earth-36"

"Thank you Professor Charles." All the contestants said at the same time. They all slowly walked out, excited about what's to come.
​

 

[I'm going to drink some serious alcohol and post here...it won't be pretty, but then, neither are you]

 

Interesting.

 

Spoiler

Well, I decided to take a crack at a set of stories I've been waiting to tell for awhile now. Here's the prologue, for those interested...

The villain of the tale was, like so many before him, beginning to panic.

His plot so intricate, his scheme so devious, his very world strung upon the fate of it's outcome. He'd allowed himself the slightest arrogance to believe that his plan was infallible - but it was only now, on the verge of possible defeat, that he'd seen the error in that grave mistake. And now, despite everything set in motion, he looked upon his grand deathtrap not with content and malicious wonder at his own criminal genius.

But with fear.

It isn't possible,, The words that rang through his mind were shouting. My trap! It was perfect! No mere... mortal, could have escaped it and lived!

The zombie drones that stood upon the gates of his master control room turned, bewildered by a faint noise. A noise that was beginning to grow louder.

"Uhhh..."

"Be quiet!", He commanded, with a stern and slender finger raised. "It isn't possible. He couldn't have escaped..."

Another one of the zombies tried to pique his attention. The brutal sounds outside were beginning to become inavoidable. But in the irony of it all, he had forgotten to give them the most important function of the human, or perhaps inhuman brain.

Comprehension. "Muhhh..."

"Did I not tell you to be quiet?!", He angrily warned them. "I am trying to plan, and you know very well the price of going against the will of THE MONK!"

As he proclaimed the name that had riddled an entire Transylvanian village with terror, the very same look came upon The Monk's eyes, as he suddenly noticed the sounds that his zombie drones had tried so desperately to warn him of.

The metal doors of the control room began to shake.

"No...", He said aloud. "NO! THIS CANNOT COME TO PASS! IT CANNOT BE!"

But it was. A moment later, and the carcass of a giant, bloodied werewolf came crashing through the stern alloy of the unhinged door. The animal fell flat to his feet, as the zombies began panicking.

The Monk was on the verge of hysterics.

"THE MONK CANNOT BE DENIED!"

"Spare me the melodramatics."

The dark warrior stood within the shadows, staring down the menace he had easily reduced to a sniveling wreck by his presence alone. His cloak wrapped around him in brilliant, if not unintentional, symmetry with his surroundings.



"I've heard it all before."

The Monk turned, his eyes directly upon the zombie drones as he raised both hands, as if in dire concentration. "Attack him! Tear out his heart!"

The zombies looked at eachother, confused. The Monk's skin turned another shade white, in startling realization...

"They're not listening...", He told himself. "What trickery is this?!"

The grim smile came upon Batman's lips, if only for an instant. "Your key to their willpower has been misplaced, Monk. I rearranged their ESP signals with the very same radio device that you aligned across your 'Castle of Horrors' to taunt me."

Removing two silver-dipped batarangs from his utility belt, Batman swiftly assumed an attack position.

"Needless to say, your efforts were wasted."

The Monk screamed out in anguish, grabbing a nearby dungeon's axe from the stone wall. The Batman seemed unafraid, as he looked past the villain, staring at the monitors that displayed his captives. Two women were locked away within his dungeons, and would they not be released, the Transylvanian Curse of Worlocks would forever torment their psyches.

"Put that toy away, Monk. You're wasting valuable time. Release Julie Madison and Dala at once, and the Gotham Judicial system may be lenient on you."

But The Monk didn't listen, as his murderous eyes tore through his enemy like a cat upon mice.

"I refuse to believe it! No man alive has the will to defy me!"

The axe swung high, but Batman easily parried, using both batarangs as a defensive measure. Bringing the axe down, Batman kicked The Monk across the chest, before lunging into a roundhouse punch, knocking the villain to the ground.

"Hh. Perhaps you didn't get the memo,", He stated, tossing the axe away.

"I'm The Batman. You never had a chance."

 

Here's a story I've been thinking about doing for some time.


Part I


Kansas 1872

In the pitch black night, the burning cross illuminated the area, casting light on the men in white robes and hoods gathered around a giant oak tree.

"Brothas!" The man in front of the group proclaims.

"We are gathered here tonight for one reason....to teach this animal a lesson!"

The crowd starts to cheer as two klansmen bring a bruised and beaten black man in front of the group.

"State your name." The leader of the group says as he kicks the black man in the stomach.

"J-....John Stewart."

"You, boy. Have been charged with eyeing a white woman, and lusting in your heart after her. What do you say to your defense?"

"I'll see all ya'll in hell."

The klan leader grabs a rope from off the ground.

"Let the lynching begin."

The two klansmen start to wrap the rope around Stewart's neck while the leader tosses the rope on one of the branches of the tree.

"Rot in hell, n*****." One of the klansmen say as the rope starts to tighten around his neck.

BLAM!

A gunshot rings out in the darkness as the klansmen scatter.

The rope starts to get taunt as John Stewart gets picked up off his feet, he struggles as the noose strangles him.

His vison starts to blur as he hears the sounds of gunfire and horses.

************​

"Ahh!" John Stewart says as he snaps his eyes open. He's laying in a bed with a bandage around his neck.

The room he's in is bare, with only a desk and a chair accompanying the bed.

"You're awake, huh?" Says the man standing at the door.

He runs his fingers through his brown hair and smiles at Stewart.

"You been asleep for about twenty hours."

"Where am I?" John asks with his scratchy voice.

"You're home, a safe haven."

"Hal." A stern voice says from the hallway. An tall man with graying blonde hair walks into the room.

"You're awake, huh?" The old man says as he grabs the desk chair and sits down next to Stewart.

"You looked so bad, we couldn't leave you."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Major Alan Scott, we're the Green Lantern Corps."

 

Namco City, Pacington HQ

As I stand outside the tall skyscraper, I take a look around the city behind me with Missy holding my arm.

"Don´t go..." she says, I give her a look that shows regret but responsbility; I´ve made these monsters, now it´s my job to stop them. [BLACKOUT]"I´m sorry Missy."[/BLACKOUT] I kiss her on the lips, gently before letting go and facing my demons. I stare behind me, the crows applauds and that´s when I know; [BLACKOUT]"I´m ready."[/BLACKOUT] I say putting on my helmet and rush towards the building, running inside I burst into the reception and I can hear the ghosts laughing while I´m here, as I stare at the ground I see the small tiny explosives they´ve planted in the buildins. Thankfully, I also have my back up plan, won´t kill them but eventually after all the 255 floors everyone will go down.

[BLACKOUT]
"I´m here!"
[/BLACKOUT]
I say, waiting when one of them finally makes their apperance. "Ah, Mr. Packer; we have been expecting you!" Red says, he´s their front man. Because he´s the fastest of the ghosts and then he starts to run towards me intense speeds I duck and grab the first 10 mini explosves, destroying them with my helmet. The computer in my helmet tells me how many people´s lives i have saved by doing it. 760. Need to get a higher score if I´m going to do my job, I collect more of the bombs with Red chasing behind me and his friend, Romp right in front of me. Dammit! The ambusher. "You´re not going to make it tonight...HAHAHAHA!" I grin beneath my helmet. [BLACKOUT]" I know....but neither will you. See these tiny explosives are what keeps you four alive, I however made an alternative!"[/BLACKOUT] I grab more explosives before avoiding Romp, narrowly and grab the energey current and activating it with the helmet. [BLACKOUT]"This is what created you monsters in the first place, I reversed the technology. You´ll appear blue but you´ll also be sitting ducks against me."[/BLACKOUT] They start to scream in pain and agony as I run towards them sending out an energey blast to Romp and Red, they´re eyes disappear back to the orignal chamber to regroup. I´ve got four of these lying around the building, now to get out the other explosives. Running a long, I grab more and more of them when all of a sudden the more spineless of the group turns behind me, his name is Clyde.

"Get back here!" He´s slow, easy target I grab more of the explosives destroying them and then duck out to the second energey activator as Red comes back for more. Blasting a beam of yellow light they both disappear before me, Romp on the other side behind the other energey beam. Running towards him I grab more explosives at intense speeds, I even impress myself and eveaporite Romp again and then Inky, the second in command to Red shows up. "Now you´re mine!" His dark blue to white texture tells me the activation has worn off, no matter I turn back and grab my third energey activator.

[BLACKOUT]"Afraid not, Inky!" [/BLACKOUT]He turns a darker shade of blue before I blast him, then I remember I used the last energey pack too early. I rush to the other side of the office, one more energey pack left and only a few more explosives till they can´t inhabit this floor. I run fast, and Red and Romp are on my trail again. I sigh, Romp goes off elsewhere with Red on my tail they are defiantly planning another ambush. I run past another direction to lose Romp; good there´s only two to take care of. Grabbing what´s left of the mini explosives I decimate all of them before Romp and Red think they´ve got me completley trapped.

"See? This is why I´m the ambusher!" No time to listen, I activate the last remaining energey pack on this floor and blast Romp to bits while Red starts running away I run towards him he then starts screaming for mercy.

"What....what are you!?"

[BLACKOUT]"I´m PACMAN!' [/BLACKOUT]

I blast him one last time, as he decimates. This floor is safe, now to move onto to the next level.

 

"There's too many of them!" Kimberly insists. Her long, brown hair is sticking to her forehead. She feels disgusting. In any other situation, it would bother her. Now, however, she has bigger things on her mind. Falling in line, Kimberly turns to Jason. "What do we do?"

Jason surveys the waves upon waves of Putties, the foot-soldiers of Rita Repulsa. He's never seen this many in one place. That much was true. "I don't know," Jason admits. It was crazy. Last week, his biggest fear was his Chemistry midterm exam. "Where are the others?" he asks nervously.

"Right behind you!" Zach announces. Jason and Kimberly turn, and their hearts collectively drop. Another wave of Putties was approaching from the rear. Zach and Trini looked overwhelmed. "I'm starting to think maybe we should do something?" Zach suggests.

"Where's Billy?" Trini asks suddenly.

As if on cue, Billy's body flies through the air between them. Landing with a thud, Billy coughs. Upon pulling himself to his feet, he assures, "I'm alright." Then, upon seeing the enemies' numbers, he adds, "But we won't be for much longer."

Jason nods. The situation was dire. "Alright, alright. There's only one thing we can do." He checks the area once more for bystanders. It's all clear - nothing but the five teenagers and hordes of Putties. Jason reaches for his belt buckle. At this, it becomes clear that it's more than just a belt buckle. Holding it in front of him, Jason announces, "It's Morphin' time!"

The four others hold up their respective Morphers. The Morphers pop open as the golden Power Coins shimmer. For a second, the teenagers allow themselves to smirk.

"MASTODON!"

"PTERYDACTAL!"

"TRICERATOPS!"

"sabre-TOOTHED TIGER!"

"TYRANNOSAURUS!"

In a brilliant flash of light, the five teenagers are transformed. Where they once stood, now five warriors stand, adorned in colorful, other-worldly armor. Falling into formation, the Power Rangers strike a pose to instill terror into the heart of the Putties. It works, if only for a moment.

"Let's get them!" Jason barks with all the confidence and poise befitting of a leader. With the fear of being overwhelmed now gone, the Power Rangers leap into action. And the Putties, seemingly knowing better, begin to back off. Beneath his helmet, Jason smiles widely. Just another day at the office.

 

Kimberly was hot.


...What?

 

(Here's a story I've wanted to do for some time. I'm going to condense it, but it was originally going to be a full-length fanfiction.)
​

The year was 1907. Banks were failing, and hard times came to Gotham. The city, which always teetered on the edge of financial disaster, fell deep into recession. Historians would call it a "panic." Those who lived it, those who witnessed how bad Gotham would eventually get, disagreed. "Panic," they said, doesn't begin to explain it. In many ways, the financial crisis was the straw that broke Gotham's back. To this day, many agree that the city has never fully recovered.

My parents took me to see Ben Hur in the theater. It was first movie reel I'd ever seen. It was magnificent. On the screen, the gladiators looked larger than life as they raced their chariots. I was seated between my parents, who were both smiling happily. All three of us were happy that night. Dad, who had built a considerable estate, was unconcerned with the economic turmoil surrounding us. The Waynes, he would tell me, were going to be alright.

If only I could have told him then that he was so wrong.

As we left the theater, I took my father and mother's hands. They led me down the street, away from the theater. The air was cool and the night clear. Dad suggested that we take advantage by walking home. Mom didn't much care for the idea, but Dad managed to talk her into it. I broke away from my parents and skipped ahead, relishing the wonderful night. Behind me, Dad put his arm around Mom and laughed pleasantly.

When I first saw Joe Chill - as I would later learn he was named - I thought very little of him. Seated on a park bench, wearing an oversized coat, he looked no different than the dozens of homeless people lining Gotham's streets. I was too young to understand the look in his eyes, to see his desperation. My parents, however, understood. They stopped laughing and increased their pace, urging me along.

"What's wrong?" I asked naïvely.

Dad prodded me forward. "Keep moving, Bruce," he instructed calmly. I'll never forget his tone of voice. It put me at ease, made me believe nothing was out of the ordinary. Dad had that way about him. He always knew the right thing to say. Maybe if I was older, I would have recognized the nervousness in his voice that night. Maybe I would have recognized a lot of things.

I distinctly remember hearing the fourth set of steps following us. At this, I began to worry, but only slightly. Dad put his hand on my shoulder, and I felt my fears melt away. I noticed that the new steps were increasing to match ours. I convinced myself for a moment to think that I was merely imagining them. That denial was immediately dispelled when my mother's scream cut through the night air.

"AAAAAAAAAIYYYYYYYYEEEEEE!"

I stumbled forward as my father released me. Terror in my heart, I turned, and the sight is as clear to me now as it was then. My mother was thrashing as hard as she could. Her eyes were slammed shut. An unfamiliar pair of hands were grabbing her from behind. As she kicked and spun, I managed to catch glimpses of Chill - the same look of desperation in his eyes. As Dad approached, Chill pushed my mother to the ground. Her pearl necklace shattered across the sidewalk.

It was then that I first heard the sound of the hammer being pulled back on a gun. To this day, it sometimes echoes in my brain, taunting me. Dad froze in place when he saw the weapon. My eyes, too, were inexplicably drawn to it. Chill waved the gun madly, barking something at my father. My father held us his arms and gave a response. That's when Chill shot him.

BANG!

The only thing louder than the gunshot was my mother's screams. Everything started moving slowly. Dad's hands immediately went to his abdomen. His back was turned, so I didn't see his face. I imagine he wore the same look of shock and terror that I did. He fell to one knee, collapsing in the next instant. I remember silence - nothing but silence.

BANG!

The second gunshot was all I could hear. Yet I was suddenly aware that my mother had stopped screaming. She lay in the ground, in the same spot as before, unmoving. Chill looked at her in disbelief before turning his attention to me. To this day, I don't know what he thought in that moment. After staring in my eyes, Chill dropped the gun and ran. Once he was gone, I sprinted to my parents' side.

There they lay - Thomas and Martha Wayne. I don't remember if I cried. The policeman who found me at the scene said I did, but I don't remember it. I remember my father reaching out for me, but by the time I took his hand, he was dead. I knelt there, holding my dead father's hand in disbelief. I was eight years old.

 

Nicely done.

 

I think you know the in's and out's of this story after all the times I brainstormed with you about it.

 

It's the summer of 1929. In a few short months, Gotham - along with the rest of the world - will be facing a financial crisis of unparalleled proportions. As the recession grows, Gotham is split into two social classes: those with money and those without. The former is blissfully unaware of the latter, explaining why catapulting crime rates cease to alarm the general public. The people have long since accepted that Gotham is a cesspool of crime and corruption, and no one is brave enough to shake the status quo.

I've just returned from a decade-long trip around the world, following the Great War. Ever since my parents' death, I felt a calling deep inside. It motivated me to enlist, despite being only eighteen when America joined the hostilities. As horrific as it was, my time on the frontline was one of the best experiences of my life. I witnessed evil in those trenches, and I emerged victorious. I set out to conquer evil and fear in all its forms, preparing myself for the day when I would face it in my own backyard.

As it were, I've returned to Gotham just in time for my thirtieth birthday party. My penthouse is filled with two things: people and music. It's the time of Prohibition, but that never really stopped Gotham anyway. In a city this corrupt, a little bootlegging was the least of anyone's worries. I'm handed a glass of champagne the second I walk in through the door. I smile politely and scan the room for familiar faces.

"Bruce Wayne," a sultry voice from behind purrs. I turn and face Selina Kyle, one of Gotham's most well-known flappers. Her "little black book" is thicker than the Bible, and she's made it no secret that she wants to add my name to the list. It's a proposition I haven't really had time to consider. "Here I thought you were never coming back," Selina admits as she takes a swig of her champagne.

"And risk never again seeing you, Selina?" I smile. With a wink, I assure her, "Never." Over her shoulder, I watch one of Gotham's less savory figures forcing his way through the crowd. "You'll have to excuse me, Selina," I lament as I pat her gently on the shoulder. She sneers as I set off across the room.

Once I'm close enough, the man recognizes me. Raising his glass, he announces, "You sure can throw a party, Wayne." His name is Carmine Falcone, but more people know him as "The Roman." He's the beginning and the end of my mission. It all comes back to him. Once a small-time bootlegger, Falcone worked his way up the ranks, rallying the Italian mafia behind him. Putting him away would advance my goals greatly. For now, however, I smile and raise my glass in response. Falcone wastes no time downing his.

"I'll forgive you overlooking my invitation," a familiar British voice speaks from my left. I turn to see Alfred Pennyworth, an old acquaintance of mine from the War. He's aged some since I saw him last. Grey hair has begun to take control of his temples. "I know how dreadful it is trying to get a wire across the pond," he laughs.

I open my arms and embrace Alfred warmly. "I wasn't expecting you," I explain politely. "What are you doing all the way over here in Gotham?" I ask interestedly. The trip from England to America is hardly one you make on a whim. Now, I could believe that he came for my birthday party, but I wouldn't know how he heard of it.

Alfred shakes his head. "I found myself out of a job, so I decided to travel the world," he explains. "Of course, I ran out of money, so it looks like Gotham will be my only stop." At least he can keep his humor about him. I always remembered that about Alfred. We shared many laughs over drinks, when we weren't fighting. "When I got here, everyone was talking about Bruce Wayne's party, so I figured, why the Hell not? I seem to remember you offered me a drink if I ever found my way over here!"

I laugh and pat Alfred reassuringly on the shoulder. "Of course, of course! You're always welcome here, Alfred!" I lean in and explain seriously, "And if you need money, I can help. God knows I have more than I need."

Alfred laughs heartily. "What, are you going to get me a job?" he asks half-jokingly. He quickly grabs a glass of champagne from a waiter carrying a tray. "Because you're off your rocker if you think I'm going to lower myself to cleaning up after you. I don't care how much money you have!"

"We'll think of something," I promise him. I then push him gently into the crowd, waving a dismissive hand. "Now, go! Mingle! Drink all my booze! I owe you one!"

"That you do," he agrees, "That you do."

 

Tonight's darker than any I ever remember in Gotham. I find myself being silently thankful for it. I shift uncomfortably on my perch. The suit is more uncomfortable than I remember. It's carrying far too much weight, severely limiting my maneuverability. I'll have to fix it later. I've waited far too long for this night. I won't allow such a trivial problem to sidetrack me. I must admit: though wearing this ridiculous thing makes me feel quite queer, it also gives me a perverse feeling of empowerment, of invincibility. Dressed in this peculiar garb, I can do anything.

Sergeant James Gordon is a beat cop who drew the short straw. His beat is the Narrows, one of the seediest parts of Gotham. The Narrows are a teeming wasteland which must be cleansed if I am to have any hope of ridding Gotham of the evil which orphaned me. For this reason, an alliance with Gordon seemed necessary. Yet that's not why I picked him. Gordon lives his life on the edge every day, yet none of his colleagues seem to remember a complaint. He reports to work, and he does his job. He does it well. Some call him an "idealist" because he believes he can fix Gotham.

To me, that just makes him a fellow believer.

I follow him carefully for a moment. He follows a specific route, and I've been monitoring him for days. I know where he walks and how long it takes to get there. Using this information, I've discerned the best location for me to approach him. The streetlamp is broken, and no one's taken the time to get it fixed. For five minutes of his night, every night, Gordon is bathed in almost total darkness. It's the ideal condition for someone like me.

"Sergeant Gordon," I growl. My entire act here is largely illusion. In reality, I'm just a man in a strange suit. But my enemies must never know that. To them, I must be something far more real, far more terrifying. The growl helps. Of course, it also gives men like Gordon the wrong impression. "There's no need to reach for your gun," I assure him, watching his hand move away from the holstered weapon. "I just want to talk."

"You want to talk, so you wait until I can't see you?" Gordon asks rhetorically. This is why I need him. He's quick. I can use a man like that on my side. "Well, go ahead. Talk. I don't suppose you're going to let it happen any other way."

"It's time for Gotham to say, 'No more,' to the evils that plague it," I explain confidently. "Too long have corrupt politicians and businessmen run this city into the ground while others remained quiet. Too long have men such as yourself fought a losing battle. Starting tonight, we take back our city."

Gordon scoffs. "Our city?" he repeats skeptically. Putting his hands on his hips, he questions, "Who are you to tell me what needs to happen in my city? You think I'm not already setting this chain-of-events into motion? I've been fighting for Gotham long before you, I can tell you that." He's proud of his work. He should be. He's the cleanest cop this city's ever seen.

"I know," I concede. I pull the cloak around me tighter as a nighttime breeze rolls in. "That's why you're the one I've approached. I need you, Gordon. As proud as I am, I know I can't do this alone. So do you. It's in both our benefits to work together," I insist.

"And how do you suggest we do that?"

I take one of my small sherukins out of my pocket. I learned how to use these during my time in the Orient. They're a powerful weapon - if not necessarily for offensive attack, then for distraction. "Stay out of my way." I throw the sherukin at the lit streetlamp behind Gordon. The glass shatters, and the light extinguishes. While Gordon's back is turned, I dash off into the night.

 

Falcone's penthouse is a fortress. Of course, its defenses were not designed for someone like me. My cloak billows in the wind as I climb higher. My days of mountain climbing in the Himalayas have finally paid off. That said, the side of a building is a different challenge than the sheer face of a mountain. I grip onto the rope tightly through my gloves, my breathing shallow and controlled. The lights of Falcone's penthouse are in sight.

Pulling myself up onto the ledge, I peer down into Falcone's study through the skylight. The room is filled with people. Falcone is seated at his desk, opposite a very nervous-looking man. Two man flank Falcone on either side. Another two men stand behind the nervous man. A final man guards the door. Seven occupants in total. I open the skylight carefully and listen.

"I got sources on the inside, Kelly," Falcone explains. I suddenly remember why I recognize the nervous man. He's one of Falcone's men. Dennis Kelly. "The cops are closing in. All they need is for the judge to sign the arrest warrant, and they're bringing you down." Falcone leans forward, his hands folded on the desk. "You know what happens when they bring you in, right, Kelly?"

"I won't talk, Carmine!" Kelly promises desperately. He takes a step forward, but one of the men behind him grabs his coat, pulling him back. "Please, I swear I won't talk! You've gotta believe me!"

Falcone leans back and lights a cigar. "Everyone talks," he muses disinterestedly. "You hear me? Everyone." Falcone stares at Kelly for a moment before blowing smoke in his direction. Leaning back in his chair, Falcone motions for the men flanking him to grab Kelly.

"No! Please! Carmine, please! I swear I won't! I swear! Please, Carmine, please!" One of the men punches Kelly in the gut. He lurches forward, grunting pointedly. Coughing, he pleads, "I'll leave town! They'll never find me! Please, Carmine, let me leave!"

Falcone considers the suggestion, but I can tell by the look on his face that he's already made up his mind. "You know I'd like nothing more, Kelly, but I can't take that risk," he answers calmly. I watch him open a desk drawer. He reaches for something. I see a flash of silver, and I throw a sherukin at a potted plant on the desk. The pot explodes, and everyone in the room jumps. "WHAT THE HELL--?"

Kelly is staring right at me. Falcone and the other men look up, and they notice me as well. I remain unmoving, my cloak wrapped around my body. I'm sure I'm a terrifying sight. "What is that thing?" Kelly asks, suddenly forgetting the events of the past five minutes. "Is that a person? Do you think it's real?"

"Only one way to find out," Falcone remarks, aiming his pistol at me. No one else notices, but his hand is trembling. I feel the small sherukin in my hand. Falcone takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, I recognize the determination. This time, he is going to shoot. As soon as his finger twitches, I jump into action.

Leaping through the open skylight, I spread my arms wide. My cloak spreads open, giving me the appearance of a larged, winged creature - a wraith descending from the sky. Falcone's men back up. Kelly ducks. I toss my sherukin, and it hits Falcone in the shoulder. He immediately drops his gun, moments before I land on his desk. The room is still for a moment.

Falcone's men respond quicker than I expected. The door guard draws a pistol. I reach for another sherukin. The two men closest to the desk start approaching cautiously. The one on the right has a switchblade. The one on the left has brass knuckles. I leap off the desk, kicking the one on the left in the chin. The one with the knife immediately comes after me, thrusting the knife in quick, deadly strokes. I dodge them with some effort, spinning my cloak around to make him unsure of where the cloak ends and my body begins.

The man with the brass knuckles comes at me with a right cross. I counter by hitting him on the inside of his elbow. As he fades, the man with the knife stabs at my face. I throw the cloak over his head, confusing him. In his confusion, I manage to land a few kidney punches. I kick him in the kneecap, and he falls backwards. The man with the brass knuckles throws a right hook. I catch the punch with ease. My palm stings from the brass knuckles, but I don't show it on my face. I quickly elbow his left elbow from above, snapping his arm. I drop him, and he starts screaming in pain.

The other two men start to circle, waiting for the proper moment to strike. I notice that one of them also has a knife. Meanwhile, the first man with a knife rushes in with a flurry of attacks. I wrap my cloak and my hand for protection as I try to catch the hand with the knife. After a few tries, I'm successful. I twist his wrist, forcing him to drop the weapon. I headbutt him in the nose, the weakest part of the face. It shatters with a sickening crunch. I toss him aside carelessly.

The last two men charge me simultaneously. The one without the knife lines up a high punch, which I duck under. The one with the knife lunges once, grazing my shoulder. I don't allow them to see the blood. I can't let them think I'm human. I need to be something more. I punch the knife-wielder in the face with a quick right hook. I then transition into elbowing the second man in the cheek. Both of them stumble backwards. I grab both of their heads and smack them together. They collapse at the same time.

Finally with a clear shot, the door guard opens fire. Again, I twirl my cloak to confuse him. Meanwhile, I draw the sherukin from earlier. In one fluid motion, I spin and launch the sherukin at the man's chest. It strikes him on his right. He yelps in pain and stumbles. I turn back to Kelly and Falcone. The former is whimpering on the ground. I do nothing to him. The latter is watching in disbelief.

"What the Hell are you?" he asks terrified. I only wish the other members of his organization were here to see this: Carmine Falcone, frozen in fear of me. Suddenly, he doesn't seem as invincible as he once was. I approach his desk slowly, allowing the tension to grow. Falcone appears willing to run but unable. He's stuck in his chair, holding his shoulder wound.

I push the desk out of the way with one hand. Nothing stands between him and I now. Grabbing him by his tie, I lift him out of the chair. Sneering, I answer, "I'm Bat-Man." Whether it's from the pain or his fear of me, Falcone faints. I drop his body on the floor. My work here is done. Kelly continues to whimper. I merely glare at him for a second, just enough to strike sheer terror into his very heart and soul. The cops already have what they need on him.

I scale the wall of Falcone's study and leave through the skylight. Someone will have heard the commotion. For now, there's nothing more the Bat-Man can do. I've earned a good night's sleep. With one more flapping of my cape, I disappear into the darkness.

 

The hallways of Wayne Manor are strikingly empty. When I returned to Gotham, I swore that I would only stay at my penthouse in the city. I knew that if I returned to the Manor, these feelings would surface. In the old days, this place was filled with life and laughter. That all died with my parents. The Manor has been largely unused since I left Gotham for the War, but I couldn't resist staying here upon my return. For all the sad memories of mourners wandering the halls, offering empty words of sympathy, I have a thousand more memories of wonderful times here.

I look up from my glass of orange juice as Alfred enters the kitchen. I offered him a room to stay in - after all, Lord knows I have many to spare. After some initial resistance, he agreed. Truth be told, I'm glad I'm not alone in this big house. Alfred tosses today's Gazette onto the table before me as he makes his way to the cupboard.

"When you used to tell me that Gotham was crazy - back during the War - I thought you were merely speaking figuratively," Alfred muses. I slide the newspaper across the table and examine the headline. "WHO IS 'THE BAT-MAN?'" I do my best to hide my smile. Yawning, Alfred continues, "I daresay I deserve a bloody medal for finding my way to the kitchen without a map."

I laugh warmly. It feels good. I haven't had a laugh that wasn't faked in some time. "How'd you sleep?" I ask before bringing the glass of orange juice to my lips again.

"Like a baby," Alfred grins. He retrieves a glass for himself, and - while pouring himself some juice - explains, "I really wish you'd let me repay you for your hospitality somehow. I do feel bloody guilty intruding on your privacy like this."

I look up from the article. The wild accusations made in it are as amusing as they are false. The press has really made the Bat-Man out to be something otherworldly. It will help me a great deal. "Oh, come on, Alfred," I insist. "You know I'm not a private man."

Nodding, he suggests, "Perhaps I might prepare a little breakfast?" Noting the look on my face, he quickly adds, "I've been known to throw things together from time to time. Don't worry." As he searches the kitchen for all the necessary equipment, I lean back in my chair. I've just noticed how hungry I really am.

"Breakfast sounds swell, Alfred. Thank you."

***

It takes me a second, but I soon realize that Sergeant Gordon's been expecting me this time. Subtle glances over his shoulder, a slowed pace, general quietness altogether. I'm frankly unsurprised when my presence doesn't cause any real disturbance to him. Turning, he looks in the general direction of my shadowed figure.

"I hope you're happy," he begins irritably. "Thanks to you, Falcone stands a good chance at getting moved to Jeremiah Arkham's Asylum for claiming that he was beat up by a bat." Gordon folds his arms. I expected this kind of initial resistance to my methods. "Years I spent building this case - just to have it thrown down the drain because of a guy in a mask."

I shift under my cloak. Unlike the press, Gordon recognizes me for what I am. Maybe that's why I don't frighten him. "The important thing is that Falcone's off the streets," I remind him. I may not like that the Roman is going to live a life of luxury in the Asylum, but it's better than living one out here. At least it complicates things. "Don't you see that this is the beginning?"

Gordon scoffs. "The beginning of what?"

"They're scared," I answer simply. "Falcone's men. Maroni's men. Thorne, Zucco, all of them. I've put you in a position to strike." Gordon shakes his head. His skepticism is understandable. "The mob knows now that they aren't safe. They're terrified. Terrified of me. They're going to make mistakes, and you're going to catch them."

"Don't you see where this leads?" Gordon asks pleadingly. "Sure, you've got them running now. And - don't get me wrong - landing Falcone was a big step. But it's never going to last. Eventually, you're going to back them into a corner." Gordon pauses, kicking at the sidewalk absently. "If they can't stop you, they'll find someone who can."

I stand up a little straighter. I admit that I've opened Pandora's box. By promoting this kind of theatrical vigilantism, I not only grant others permission to do the same, but I also invite those on the other side to join in. The cops already have enough trouble with the mob. The last thing they need is someone like me trying to bring them down. It was a calculated risk, but a necessary one. I needed a dramatic example to show the mob that not everyone's afraid.

"Let me worry about that," I reply dismissively. "For now, concentrate on hitting Falcone's organization. Hard. These are dangerous people. I don't need to remind you that it won't take them long to regroup."

"And what if this plan of yours doesn't work?" Gordon asks. He turns, gathering his thoughts. "What if you have the opposite effect on them? What if, instead of running, they come back in full force?" He turns around for my answer, but he'll discover that I'm no longer there. The night calls for me.
​

 

What´s the matter, none of you like Pacman!!!!?

 

1950

Hollywood, California
3:24 AM

I stand behind the crime scene tape while the lab boys go to work.

"Okay, Eddie." Lieutenant Stanton says as he lifts up the tape.

"What the hell happened here?" I say as I look down at the dead body. The body's skin should be pink, but the wounds drained all color from the body, leaving it black and white.

"From what we can tell. Multiple gunshot wounds to the head and chest. Slowly bleed to death."

"Gunshot wounds? Where they real or?"

"As far as we can tell, real lead."

I shake my head and pull out a cigar. I look around at the coloful buldings and bright sunshine. No matter what time of night, it never gets dark here.

"Are you telling me someone managed to figure out to kill a-"

Stanton cuts me off.

"Yeah, Eddie."

The coroners lift up Porky Pig's stale and colorless body.

"Someone found out how to kill a toon."

Eddie Valiant & Roger Rabbit

In

That's All Folks!

​

After leaving the scene, I head over to Roger's place. Ever since that nasty business with Judge Doom, he and Jessica have been getting along like Newlyweds.

Much to my dismay.

"PATTY CAKE! PATTY CAKE! PATTY CAKE! PATTY CAKE!" The rabbit yells from within his house.

I shake my head and ring the doorbell. A few minutes pass before the door opens.

"Eddie Valiant!" Roger says with a smile as he grabs me and kisses my cheek.

I pull him off and wipe my face off.

"Nice to see you too."

"What do I owe the pleasure?!"

"Porky Pig was killed about an hour ago."

Roger's eyes go all sad and he puts his hands to his mouth.

"No....not Porky."

"I'm afraid so. And here's the thing, someone did it with real bullets. A human killed a toon with a real gun."

"How?"

"That's what I need you help with. I also need to find out if anyone had a grudge against Porky."

"I, ahh. Had heard some rumors about Porky. I heard he ran with a bad crowd and what not."

"The LAPD brough me in as a consultant, if you want, you can tag along and help me solve this. It's been awhile since I've done work in Toontown, I'm gong to need some help."

"Well, say no more! This'll be just like it was a few years ago. Valiant and Rabbit, back together again."

"Yeah, yeah. Just try and not get killed."

"Sure thing!...Now can I have a gun?"

​

*************​

"I'm s-s-s-s-sorry...I'm just still t-t-t-t-trying to deal with this." Petunia Pig says as she takes a tissue and blows into it for a full minute. I falls to the floor with a wet smack.

Toons.

"That's fine, Petunia. We just want to find out who killed your husband."

"Had he been acting strangely lately?"

"A b-b-b-b-b-b a bit. Always staying g-g-g-g-gone and hosting those m-m-m-meetings."

"What meetings?"

"I s-s-s-s-shouldn't say."

"Please, it'll help us."

"P-p-p-porky was d-d-d-d-dealing in c-c-c-c-c-c-communism."

I arch my eyebrow and look at Roger.

"Communism?"

"Y-y-y-y-yes! He was beng i-i-i-investigated by people. Someone came by and t-t-t-threatened him abouting telling the studios and b-b-b-blacklisting him."

"Who?"

She shifts her eyes nervously and whispers it in Roger's ear.

"Him? No."

*************
​

Roger and I stand outside the Toontown house.

"It can't be him, Eddie! No way he'd do that."

"Petunia says he was threatening Porky just a week before he was killed. As far as suspects. He's the main one right now." I say as I knock on the door.

The door swings open and our suspect smiles with a carrot in his mouth.



"Ehhh, what's up, Doc?"

"Mr. Bunny, we need to know everything you know about the murder of Porky Pig."​

 

I've been wanting to do this post for a really long time now, just never worked up the gut for it.

As you may recall back in Season VI of the DC RPG, the Joker and the rest of the Dark Alliance had themselves a bit of a field day with all the heroes' lives, attacking family members, bombing their cities, etc. It all culminated with the big titanic brawl between the Justice League and Brainiac/Doomsday, but the real story was the Joker finally killing Batman. Superman was the first on the scene, and it drove me nuts that there was no real satisfactory way to resolve it. Obviously, I couldn't just outright kill the Joker, but letting him get away after doing all of the godawful things he did throughout that Season just seemed unconscionable. Eventually, I settled on Supes giving the Joker a lecture on how Batman wouldn't have wanted Joker dead, but I was still never really satisfied with it. In the end, the Joker got away, and I felt that it make Supes look like a putz.

So now that I've had some time to stew about it, and since the Create-a-post thread lets me do this without interfering with any other continuity, I think it's time to show how I would have ended it. Also, since it's my birthday, this little exercise in self-satisfaction is just a little present from me to me.

So, picking up from here....

​

A long pause hangs between us as the truth of what he said sinks in. The Joker has no redeeming qualities, no family or friends that will miss him, no legacy other than one of terror and mass-murder. If I let him go, he'll just kill again. If I lock him up, he'll find a way to escape. He always does.

In the back of my head, I scramble for a way to avoid it, for someone to talk me down from doing this. Lois would convince me that it's not worth it, that what I'm about to do will hurt Metropolis more than his Venom Bomb did. Kara would convince me that it goes against everything I've taught her, against the example that I've set out to be. Bruce would convince me that I'd be stepping over the only line that separates us from them.

But Kara isn't here. Lois isn't here. And Bruce...isn't here, either.

There is only the Joker and me, and the horrible truth of what has to happen.

I close my eyes, and feel the heat of a thousand suns build up behind my eyelids. In the distance, the explosive din of the battle between Brainiac and my friends roars, but I don't hear it. I draw inwards, trying to separate myself from what is happening.

"Forgive me."

It's only when those words escape my lips that I realize I'm not saying it to the Joker. I'm saying it to Bruce.

I open my eyes...

...and I burn the Joker away into nothing.

I stand there for what feels like years. A chill wind blows through the ruined alley, sweeping up a cloud of dust in its path. A deafening thunderclap reminds me of the battle still raging on elsewhere in the city, and I leave all of this behind me.

I'm sorry, I say, hoping Bruce can hear me. Forgive me.

 

In reality, I do like Aquaman. I just like to spoof on him a lot, and they say that's the best way to honor someone sometimes. This is done with much thanks to Mort Weisinger and Paul Norris.

Inspired by a chat I had with Master Bruce.

"Everybody Hates Arthur"




Justice League Watchtower

The Justice League congregates inside the conference room of the Watchtower. Each member sits around the oval table, clad in their tight and colorful costumes. They sit in silence - patiently waiting for the last member to arrive.

Superman stands firm at the end of the table like a statue; ever vigilant, the man of steel refuses to sit - on call at all times. Wonder Woman sits in her chair elegantly, simply staring off into the distance, consumed by her own thoughts as she reverently waits. Beside her, J'onn J'onzz meditates - deep in a meditation as he lets his psychic powers rest. On the other side of Wonder Woman, Green Lantern leans his head on his hand. He frowns slightly; irritated deeply to be kept waiting when a whole galaxy requires his valiant watch.

Across the table, the remaining two members sit next to each other. The Batman leans back in his chair, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He is a patient man - able to wait out anything. To his right, the Flash resides, resting his head on the table as he taps his fingers with incredible speed. The constant rapping of his fingers against the table tops is annoying, but easily ignored.

After a few more moments of only quiet, a single voice speaks up - his patience finally reaching its breaking point. "What's taking him!?" The Flash exclaims loudly, spring up from the table.
"Be patient, Wally." Superman says in a calming voice. "He'll be here."
"Yeah, whatever..." he says with a grimace.

Suddenly, the doors to the room open with a hiss as the hydraulic mechanism's gears turn and grind. A man walks through the door, his breath rapid, a look of embarrassment on his face. "Sorry, guys." He says apologetically. "There was a crisis in the South Pacific." He rushes to the open chair at the end of the table and takes a seat, eagerly awaiting the briefing. It is Arthur Curry, Aquaman - lord of the seas.

"So nice of you to join us, fishface." Flash frowns. "What took you?"
"A whale got beached on the shores of California," he explains with a proud smile. "Needless to say, we got her back in the ocean with minor incident."
"That's why you kept us waiting?" Green Lantern says in a harsh voice. "For a damn fish?"
"Um, actually whales are mammals," he corrects. Lantern stews, ready to lash out in anger.
"Alright," Superman says, interjecting and diffusing the situation. "If no one else has anything important to say...then let's get on with the matter at hand." As Superman prepares to continue, Arthur raises his hand and clears his throat. "...Yes, Aquaman?" Superman says in a heavy voice.

"Yeah, I've got something to say." He says, lowering his arm. "I keep finding dead fish heads on my lawn. ... Now, I don't care who's doing it but I'm asking nicely - stop it, please." He says, his voice slightly whinny. Flash stifles laughter, holding his hand over his mouth tightly. As Arthur notices, Wonder Woman suddenly speaks.
"Wait, you have a lawn?" She asks curiously. "I though you lived in the ocean?"
"I have a summer house on the coast." He explains adamantly. "What, I can't enjoy the seashore from a different perspective once and awhile?"
"...wait, how do you pay for it?" Lantern inquires.
"I have a job."
"...you do?" He says with a look of confusion. "Where?"
"...a place." He replies vaguely, trying not to answer the question.
"He works at Fish on a stick!" Flash blurts out, falling into deep laughter.

"What?!" The group gasps.
"You work at a fish restaurant?" Wonder Woman asks in surprise.
"What was all that crap about 'preserving the ocean'?" Batman says, speaking up.
"No, no, no." Arthur says, waving his hands. "They don't serve real fish. The manager assured me that it's all tofu."
"...Tofu fish?"
"Yeah. You know, meat substitute." He explains.
"...Arthur," Batman begins, starting slow. "Tofu is a red meat substitute. There's no such thing as fish tofu."
"Yeah there is," he says with a chuckle. "I've seen it, it's all orange and pink. Heh, it's even got the fake bones in there too."
"...tofu is white, Arthur."
"And it's boneless."
"...what?" He says with a gasp, his jaw dropping. "Oh my God...oh my God- ... all those fish. All those...innocent souls ... "

"Oh, boy," Flash says, rolling his eyes. "Here we go."
"POSEIDON! Why have you FORSAKEN me!"
"Calm down, Aquaman!" J'onn says, coming too - his meditation broken. "They were just fish."
"Just fish?!" Aquaman growls, slamming his fist to the table. "They weren't just fish. They were living, breathing creatures! What if I killed some humans, huh? Grilled them up and ate them! Would they be just humans?!"
"No," Batman says strongly. "They have souls."
"And fish don't?! They have brains, Batman. They THINK! I've heard their thoughts myself. I've talked to them!"

"You're hurting your argument right there, Arthur." Flash interjects. "Anything that would talk to you clearly has no brain."
"Or sense." Batman grins slightly.
"Oooh, nice one Bats." Flash smiles widely. As the mockery continues, Aquaman stews, his anger seething; causing his blood to boil.
"How dare you!" He roars, his teeth grinding together. "You mock my subjects!?"
"Hey, at least I don't cook 'em, Aqua-chef." Flash smirks. Aquaman breathes in deeply, preparing to launch into a rage-filled rage. Superman quickly interrupts once more - changing the subject.

"Alright, enough!" He says commandingly, getting every one's attention. "Flash, let it go. Upsetting Arthur is only wasting time."
"Fine," he grumbles.
"Thank you, Superman." Aquaman says, his voice now more relaxed. He leans down and takes his seat in an orderly fashion.
"Uh-huh," Superman says with a sigh. "Now, in the future try to be here on time, okay?" He asks politely. Aquaman nods.
"My apologies, once again, Superman. It won't happen again."

"Alright, good." Superman says with a stern look. "Now, Luthor has been plotting to-"
"Um, Superman?" Arthur interrupts, raising his arm and catching Superman's attention. Clark sighs heavily and pauses his speech.
"Yes?" He asks in an irritated tone.
"In all seriousness, who ever is putting those fish heads on my lawn needs to stop. Not only is it celebrated murder but its stinking up my yard and scaring the neighbors." A large moan goes throughout the room as Flash again smiles wide.
"Alright, really, Aquaman?" Superman asks in a disgusted voice.
"What?" He asks honestly. "It's lowering the property value and I live in a very desirable area."

"Okay, that's it." Superman growls gruffly. "You know my heat vision, Arthur?"
"Well, yes. It's a valuable asset in battle."
"Uh-huh, and you know how powerful it can be if I were to let it loose and just unleash it, right?"
"Yeah." Arthur responds, playing along.
"Alright, so imagine if I let it loose in the ocean and did it long enough to raise the temperature of the entire ocean just one degree. What would happen?"
"Well," Aquaman says, pondering slightly as he puts his finger to his chin and rubs thoughtfully. "Then millions of marine life would die."
"Exactly," Superman says, his eyes squinting in frustration. "Keep that in mind next time I tell you to shut up. Got it?" Arthur suddenly becomes quiet, a look of sheer shock on his face. He slowly leans back in his chair and slouches, embarrassed and disconcerted. Superman nods his head and takes a deep breath.

"Alright, so like I was saying-" he pauses, turning to Aquaman and giving him a harsh glare. "Luthor is building an army of kryptonite based robots in a secret base somewhere. As you can imagine, I'm gonna need some help on this one. Batman, you said you know the location of the base?"

"Yes," he says in a deep bellow. "It's in the Sahara Desert. I'll lead the team there and aid in the disassembling of the robots." Batman says surely.
"I can run in and swipe the K from the robots so you're able to fight, big blue." Flash says with a salute.
"I'll take the kryptonite and send it out into space, far out of reach to be a problem." Green Lantern says with a nod.
"I can mentally subdue Luthor and keep him from trying any more tricks while you take care of the robots."
"And I'll fight by your side to the end, Clark." Wonder Woman smiles.

"Alright, then our tasks are settled." Superman says as he brings the meeting to a close.
"Well, wait-" Aquaman says, leaning forward. "What do I do?"
"...It's in the Sahara," Superman says, mulling over his options. "I don't think you can do much good. Looks like you'll have to sit this one out."
"No, no." Aquaman persists. "I'm useful! I have super strength and stamina! I'll bash away at the robots and clear a path." He says in a stoic voice. Superman makes an indecisive noise of skepticism.
"I don't know... if you're not near water you'll lose power and become a liability."
"No I won't!" He says reassuringly. "Come on, I can help you guys!"

"Hmm...alright," Superman says, won over by Aquaman's persistence. "You can watch the Tower while we fight."
"Oooh, and make sure Days of our Lives tapes," Flash says in a concerned tone. "If I miss what happened to Chloe and Mel in the tornado I'll have a melt down."
"Alright," Superman says in a heroic voice, cutting Aquaman off before he can object. "Justice League, move out!"