The New Ultimate DC RPG - Season II

[MST3K 4ever]

Rhiannon and Alice arrive at Maurice's Bridal shop. As they get out of the car a large crowd of paparazzi and reporters begin to surround them and snapping pictures and shouting questions to Rhiannon.

Rhiannon tries covering her face and her mother escorts her into the shop.

Alice says, "That's a first you shying away from the media."

Rhiannon looks at her and says, "Really?"

Alice says, "Rhiannon you usually eat this kind of attention up. There's hardly ever a camera that you meet that you don't like. Entertainment Tonight and shows like that have a camera crew devoted just to you."

Rhiannon shrugs her shoulders and says, "Guess I'm just nervous about the wedding and all that."

Maurice walks over to Rhiannon and Alice and says, "Good Morning ladies are we ready for the big day?"

Rhiannon smiles and says, "Ready as I'll ever be."

Maurice replies, "Excellent!" He hands her a garment bag and says, "Go slip this on and we'll go from there."

Rhiannon takes the dress and goes into the dressing room. She disrobes and slips the dress on.

Rhiannon notices that the dress is not only somewhat loose but it feels like exactly like her Atom costume.

Rhiannon emerges from the dressing room. Alice looks very proudly at her daughter and Maurice says, "Oh it's perfect!"

Rhiannon says, "The dress doesn't feel like any material that is used in a normal wedding dress, and it's a little loose on me."

Maurice turns Rhiannon to the mirror and says, "Let's see. No it looks fine to me how about you Alice?"

Alice looks over the dress and says, "It looks the same as when you pre-ordered about 6 months ago. I guess you entitled to a case of nerves now after all you and JJ have been engaged for almost 3 years."

Rhiannon nods her head and says, "Okay if you say so. I'll get changed and we'll get going."

Rhiannon leaves the dressing area and begins to change clothes still somewhat unsure of herself. As she is changing back into her street clothes she notices her clothes are now also a little looser.

I must be losing my mind. Hope the wedding gets over soon otherwise my nerves will be the end of me.

 

[Byrd Man]

Central City, Missouri

I come to skidding stop at the corner of 2nd and Phillips and look around. Thunder crackles across the rainbow colored sky. The weatherman said there's a jello storm coming this afternoon.

"Bart, what are you doing?" Chet, my six foot tall lizard friend, asks as he leans against a nearby light pole.

"I'm trying to help the world, Chet. FYI, ixnay on the amenay. I'm the Flash right now, call me that."


I hear a rustle behind me and turn to see Batman.

"Greetings, Chum. Are you ready to give back to the world?"

"What do I need to do?"

"Well, it's simple. There's a bank two blocks over. Missouri Savings and Loans. Rob it."

"What?"

"Yes, old friend. Much like the scamp of merry old England, Robin Hood, we too need to rob from the rich and give to the poor."

"I didn't think of it that way."

"Come on, Bar-...I mean, Flash. Think about this, what hero steals?"
​

"Pay no mind to him, chum. He's just a figment of your imagination. Listen to me."

I turn to Chet and shrug.

"Come on, buddy. It's Batman, he wouldn't lie to me. Let's go!"

I take off down the street and vibrate my body as I phase through the front door of the Missouri Savings and Loans. A few seconds later, I phase back through with sacks of money in my arms.

"Where to now, Batman?....Uhh Batman?"

"Don't worry about Batman!"

"Follow us, Flash! We'll take you to the place where that money is needed the most."

Superman and the cop cars are rushing down the street.

"Why....why are you wearing jeans?"

"I speak for the common man," he shouts as he passes by "So I dress like the common man. I'm a social crusader. Now follow us, Flash! You know tramps like us, baby we were born to run!"

I take off with the bags of money in my hands and follow Superman and the cops while he continues to sing Springsteen.

 

[Byrd Man]

Then
Syria


I climb down the elevator shaft at a slow, methodical pace. Blaine is above me, climbing down. Stephens is off doing his part, sabotaging the generators in Syria's unauthorized nuclear power plant. I come to the next floor and quietly wedge the elevator doors open with a small pry bar I always carry.

"Flagman to Stevie, how are we doing?"

"Slow and steady, Flagman. I should be wrapped up here in five."

"10-4. We're almost to the target. Flagman out."

I keep the door open with the bar, allowing Blaine to slip through the crack. He holds the door and lets me slip through before letting the elevator doors go.

We creep through the corridor to the power plant's lab. No scientist or security. Security makes sense, they're all still too busy out front dealing with the fire Blaine rigged up.

"Let's get to it."

The two of us search through the lab, taking photos of every scrap of paper and files that we can. We copy the information on the computers to a mobile hard drive. The hard drive has a satellite linkup with Langley. Everything that's on their computers is now in the hands of the CIA.

"Flagman to Stevie. Foxhunt is done, we'll rendezvous out at the creek."

"10-4. Already on my way. Stevie out."

Blaine and I are preparing to leave when we hear it. The sound of boots thudding on the floor. I turn to Blaine and we both turn our guns towards the door. An armed guard walks into the lab just in time to see our weapons.

"Ah!" He screams out. Six silenced shots rip through the guard's midsection in the blink of an eye. The guard mumbles some unintelligible words and begins to fall. His hand spasms around his AK47 trigger in one last act of defiance.

Bratatatata

The bullets tear into Blaine's chest and knock him back into a shelf filled with chemicals. The vials and beakers crash on and around him as he slumps to the ground.

"Blaine!"

I run over to help, but stop short when I smell it. The smell of burning flesh.

"Awww," Blaine moans feebly. I can see his skin turning black as he lays there, the acids and chemicals eating him alive. "Flag....."

"I'm sorry, Blaine. We should have listened to what you said."

I pull my .45 out and shoot Blaine once in the head before turning around to leave the lab. The others would have heard the shots by now. They'll be here soon.

"Stevie to Flagman. I heard shots, is everything okay?"

"I'm on the way to the rendezvous, Stevie."

"What about the shots?"

I turn around and look at the Blaine's body.

"A guard spotted us....he got Blaine. Flagman out."



Now
Tahrir Square
Cairo, Egypt


The crowd that scattered when Lawton fired is all but gone now. Farook is safe, and out job is done...almost.

WHAM!

The gloved hand strikes me in the face and knocks me to the ground.

"C'mon, Flag," the Burnt Man, formerly Staff Sergeant Peter Blaine, says mockingly. "You were brave enough to put a bullet in my head back in Syria, but you don't want to fight me like a man?"

I stand up, wiping the blood from my mouth.

"Deadshot to Flag, I've got to fall back from my sniper spot. The Egyptian Police are gonna be on me in a few minutes."

I look over and see Ravan easily fighting off Bronze Tiger and Nemesis.

"Fall back and get in touch with Faraday. We need some more backup."

Blaine patiently waits for me, pretending to stifle a yawn.

"If you're done playing soldier, Rick, do you want to get back to what we're doing?"

I reach down and pull a combat knife out from the holster strapped to my leg.

"Let's go."

I swing at Blaine, he easily side steps the blade and laughs. I thrust my elbow out at strike him in his bandaged head. He stumbles back and I take the opportunity to strike, firmly planting the knife in his shoulder. He doesn't scream or even flinch, he just calmly pulls the knife out and looks at it.

"Whatever it was that happened to me in Syria, it did more than burn me alive. It bathed me in the pools of immortality. I feel no pain, I can never die. I am invincible."

Blaine flicks his wrist and the knife sails through the air, sticking in my bicep with a solid thunk.

"Ahhh!"

Blaine is on me in a flash, wrapping his gloved hands around my throat. I thrash my arms and struggle to breath as he strangles me alive.

"I hope that, when you get to Hell, you see all the faces of those fools you led into an early grave."

BLAM!

A gun shot echoes through the square. Blaine lets go of my throat and I fall to the ground.

"Step away from Flag," Psi says. I look up as I cough and sputter. She's standing a few feet away with a pistol pointed at Blaine.

"Ahh, you're the telepath. Tell me, what am I thinking?"

"You're thinking......you're thinking you want to kill me."

"Correct. You're going to let me kill you."

"No, you're not."

"You're right. I have Ravan to do it for me."Before Psi has a chance to react, the large assassin drives a dagger into the back of her throat and stabs it all the way through.

"Nooo!"

Psi drops to the ground, her blood pouring out of her body. I stand up, pulling the knife from my arm, and charge Blaine. I'm cut short thanks to a clothesline by Ravan. I fall back down and the wind is knocked right out of me.

"Blaine, we must leave. The police will be here soon."

"Let's go."

Ravan flees while Blaine turns to me.

"You protected Farook, Flag. Congratulations, sir. I bet you feel like you accomplished something. I'll see you around, Flag."

Blaine turns and runs after Ravan. I stand up on my shaky legs and look around. Turner appears to be barely conscious, Nemesis is holding him up and walking the two of them over to us.

"I'm sorry, Flag.....he was too much for us."

"It happens," I say dismissively. I bend down and look at Psi. She's barely conscious and fading fast. A chill suddenly goes up my spine.

~I can't talk, Flag, so let me say this. Don't worry about a hospital. I'm tired. Tired of hearing the voices in my head, tired of it all. I just want peace and quiet. This way I ca-~

He thoughts cut off and Psi shutters. With a final cough of blood, her eyes go slack and dull. She's dead.

"Flag.....Flag....what do we do?"

I close Psi's eyes with my hand before hanging my head.

"Fall back, Nemesis. Take Turner back to the hotel.....Farook is safe....mission accomplished."​

 

[Batman]

Before my eyes can adjust to the light, I already know it.

Something is wrong.

The warm breeze of the morning's sunlight peering into the bedroom is replaced by the sensation of cold metal running across my back. I breathe in and try to force myself fully awake to see what it is, but I'm having difficulty. All five senses are askew - rattled, like I've been through hell. Head's throbbing, ears are beginning to ache. Eyes are watering because they itch. It's as if I'm experiencing some sort of massive internal attack, but I know that it can't be natural. I try to move my arms to reach out and touch Talia, knowing that if I feel her warmth, everything will be okay once again... but I can't move my arms. Infact, something's bound them tightly around my body.

The sound of electrical discharge suddenly shifts me out of slumber and I raise my head, realizing that I haven't been laying down - but rather, sitting down on a cold and dampened floor. Vision's blurry as I open my eyes, feeling nausea creep in the moment that I lean back. Something's definitely wrong. I'm not laying in my bed. My wife isn't at my side. I can't hear the birds singing on the outside balcony, or feel the sun's heat soothing me from the skylight. For all I know, this isn't even my home. The environment is completely foreign.

Finally, my eyes adjust.

And I get the shock of my life.

"What in..."

I'm in a cell. Solitary room without anything but padding to line the walls. Those binds I felt are revealed to be a straitjacket. Under it, I can feel clothes that aren't mine. The only thing that subsides my immediate panic is that I see a door ahead of me, with a window to see out. Have to get myself up and look at what's on the other side. What the hell is going on, have I been kidnapped?

And just as my situation becomes all the more dire, my thoughts go back to my family. If I was taken, if I'm being held by someone for ransom, then what's happened to...

Oh, god.

"Talia?"

No answer. I try to keep myself calm, but the thoughts are racing in. The image of her, my mother, my father, Alfred... all taken in the night, held against their will by someone who wants to make me suffer. It's thought as paranoia, but I've made plenty of enemies not to entertain the idea. If that was their plan, then to some degree, they've succeeded.

"Talia?!"

I stumble onto my feet, and weakly manage to walk over to the door. Look through the window, hoping to see any signs of my family still alive. All I see are white hallways. Flickering lights illuminating a pristine establishment that doesn't look to be anything like what you'd expect for a hideaway in captivity. There are a couple of people that cross the end of the hall. They wear white coats, general doctor's attire.

Where in god's name have I been taken to?

"Hey!"

I do the only thing possible in my position and jump up and down, trying to get their attention. The straitjacket's giving me more trouble than it should, I've escaped worse than this in less time. Haven't even bypassed the first buckle yet.

"Over here! Help me, I'm trapped in here! For god's sake, somebody help me!"

They don't even turn to acknowledge me. Some of them even fraternize. They're playing their part well. Were I not so convinced of the ruse, I'd mistake them for actual staff. Then one of them crosses the hall, and I stop cold.

Falcone. Carmine Falcone. He's dressed as a doctor and walking directly towards me.

I back up from the door as he begins to unlock it, preparing to ambush him. The last I saw of him, he was still in prison awaiting retrial. Harvey Dent was supposed to take the case, but was intercepted by the state and made to advise the presiding attorney. It seems that his efforts weren't entirely successful. But this institution facade, this is new of him. I didn't think he was capable of such theatrics.

Have to attack while the opportunity presents itself. I lean forward and try to move. But the moment that he opens the door, my entire body stiffens. My shock is evident as he looks at me casually and gives a nod, pulling out a clipboard and pen.

"And how are we doing this morning, Mr. Wayne?"

I simply stare back. I don't know what he's up to, but I won't indulge him. His accent may be gone, but he'd have to be a fool not to realize what my opinion of him is. He was never a fond associate of mine and he made sure that I knew it, as Bruce Wayne or otherwise.

"Mr. Wayne, are you alright? You are aware of what day this is, yes? I hope that I didn't startle you."

My eyes narrow. The bastard is going all out with this. Maybe if I play along, I'll learn his real hand.

"Enlighten me."

Next, he does something completely unexpected. He smiles. I don't think I've ever seen him smile.

It's unsettling.

"Today is your weekly evaluation. I was hoping that we could continue where we left off from our last session, where you were talking about the dreams you've been having. Have they persisted?"

I...

I don't know how to react. He's treating this all with such sincerity, but he knows that I know better than that. It wasn't all that long ago that he was Gotham's top crimelord, a man deemed untouchable by both the police and the government. He made a living out of pilfering off of the weak and intimidating the innocent. He was also the first major criminal that I ever put away. His downfall was supposed to signal the start of better times, but without him, things have only seemed to get worse.

Now this happens. It's more than a little unorthodox. I think he actually believes that he's some sort of doctor, or psychiatrist, or whatever he's pretending to be. And I guess that in his delirious state, I'm supposed to be his unwavering patient. Maybe that's why he had me taken in my sleep. He wanted to ensure that his own demented ruse could be a reality.

"What dreams are you talking about?"

He looks over his charts. "Why, the ones that you were complaining about. The ones that we had discussed, and decided were the delusions at the source of your sickness."

"Sickness?"

I sneer at that. That's where you lost me, Falcone.

"No, Carmine, the only thing that's sick is what you're doing now. How long do you think you can keep this up before I'm found?"

He stares at me, then looks over the notes.

"Are we really going to have to do this again? Mr. Wayne, I thought I made it clear that your cooperation is essential to---"

"I've been taken from my home and separated from my wife. I have no patience for your games anymore. You're going to tell me where she is, now, while you still have the chance."'

He removes his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose, evidently annoyed.

"We've been over this. That was only a dream, Mr. Wayne. I am not some figment of your delusions, I am your psychiatrist. And you are not married, you never have been. You must understand this if we're to make any sort of breakthrough."

"Stop it. Damn you,"

My voice slowly turns into a growl. "Drop the act and tell me what you've done. Where's Talia? Where are my parents? What have you done with them?!"

"Mr. Wayne, calm down. You don't want me to have to send in the guards, again."

There. That sounds more like the Falcone I know. Sending in his goons to put down anyone that he wasn't strong enough to fight himself.

"You may have convinced your hired help that you're some sort of a doctor, Falcone, but I know what you really are! All of Gotham does! And when they find you, they're going to---"

"They're going to what, exactly? Lock me away? Were I actually this Carmine Falcone person that you believe me to be, that might be the case, but you know better than that. My name is Dr. Wilkinson, and you are a patient at this Asylum."

Now he thinks he's running Arkham. Great.

"Listen to me, Falcone! I don't know what's driven you off the edge, but you need to let me out of here! The police are going to find you, eventually, so just let me go while you still have the chance!"

I'm thrashing at this point, trying to free myself. He takes that as cue and opens the door, where two large men in white await him outside. He looks back at me and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry to have to do this, but you've left me no choice. Sedate him."

"Is that it?!"

I start to laugh. "Really?! That's all you've got!? You're worse at this than I thought! You really think that you were going to convince me with some convenient lies?! Face the truth, Falcone! You're holding an innocent man captive, and there's nothing that you can say to---"

"What's going on here?"

My words are cut short as I hear a familiar voice echo from the hall behind the 'orderlies'.

"Jason?"

I stand up and peer beyond the guards, confirming the origin of the voice. Jason Todd, one of my closest friends. He's a psychiatrist at Arkham, and obviously here aswell. But that... that doesn't make any sense. Why would he allow Falcone roam the halls, living out this new delusion? He knows what kind of a monster he is! And why hasn't he freed me? He must not have realized that I've been held captive. It's the only explanation I can think of.

"Jason! Jason, it's me, Bruce! Falcone has me locked in here! Take him down while you have the chance!"

Jason pushes past the guards and looks at me. But to my surprise, he does nothing. Instead, he turns to Falcone and sneers.

"I was hoping that your treatments would help progress the patient's state of mind, doctor. Not regress it back to it's paranoid delusions."

"I fail to understand it aswell, Dr. Ackles. I had such hope that we were making progress with this one. But he's still as convinced as ever that he's a billionaire playboy cavorting about town, fighting corruption as a masked vigilante. He even told me that he has a wife, this time."

My eyes widen.

Did he just say that?

"How could you know that?"

I look to Jason. "What have you told him? Jason, what have you told him?!"

"Mr. Wayne, is this true? Did you tell your psychiatrist that you're married, now?"

My teeth grit together as the orderlies are indicated to enter the room. One comes at me with a syringe, and I try to fight it, but the other is quick to hold me down. Both Falcone and Jason simply watch, as I struggle to figure out why my friend has betrayed me like this. Allowing one of my worst enemies to kidnap and lock me away in an asylum is one thing, but to tell him my secrets aswell? What could have caused this?

I thrust about as the syringe's needle comes closer.

"JASON! SNAP OUT OF THIS, IT'S ME! JESUS CHRIST, DON'T DO THIS TO ME!"

He looks back at Falcone.

"We may have lost him. Schedule a routine lobotomy for next month, and hope that we can reach him after. Otherwise I'm afraid that he'll never be cured."

It's hopeless.

Soon after they leave me, my body convulses and I begin foaming at the mouth. Lights and sounds become nothing but shadows, and I'm left to suffer my own delirious ramblings. It only now occurs to me that whatever's happened, whatever I'm going through, Talia isn't alive. Infact, she's been dead for a long time. I'm only just remembering that we were never married.

Have I really gone insane?

 

[Bounce]

National Aeronautics & Space Administration
Metropolis-Pike Island Research Facility, Massachusetts

The black Benz made its way through security and up the long, winding drive which led to expansive research base on the island. Tarps and construction scaffolding still blanketed a fair portion of the structure, as workers continued repairing the damage caused by the rampaging Micah Flint. The mutated, rock-like astronaut had certainly not been the experiment that Michaels had hoped that he would be.

But there was always hope for the future, Albert thought to himself with a grim smile.

Of course for now he was left to cater to the growing audience of idiots and coat-tail riders spawned by the arrival of Superboy. Parading him about as though he were some cute kid or the savior of a nation, when in reality Superboy was probably the most dangerous being on the planet. A force of nature like that wasn’t ‘handled,’ it was studied. Dissected. Picked apart so that the threat could be fully comprehended and defended again.

Which really had little to do with Superboy, and more to do with what he represented. A Kryptonian. One of what seemed a growing number of them. And one was really too many.

Of that at least, Albert Michael’s had the agreement of some of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Patriots who had proven willing to fund the kind of necessary research that others seemed too weak of heart to rationalize as required for the continued survival of the human race. They were dealing with alien organisms now thriving in an ecosystem shared with humanity.

A basic study of Darwin would illustrate to even the most ignorant of minds where this would end.

Sadly, at least until his research had produced more tangible results, Michaels was left in the audience of morons that had gathered around the media train. So he would kiss the ass of Dabney Donovan and pretend to be a willing participant of this circus of fools. Carrying in a token of this false friendship, Michaels entered the lab with several cups of Starbucks.

Except it was all but empty.

Turning his head, Michael’s spied Fiona Ross working on a laptop at the desk she had absconded from one of the idiot interns. If the media train had a conductor, it was almost certainly the agent of the Department of Metahuman Affairs; the woman who had rescued Dabney and Superboy from the near-sucessful power grab attempted by the Department of Defense. Donovan might have been a genius, perhaps even a better scientist than Michaels’ was, but it was Ross that was the one in Michaels’ way. “Where’s Donovan?” the physician asked, a cold smile illuminating his narrow features as he set down a cup of coffee in front of the woman.

Peering over the rim of the glasses that had slipped down her nose, Fiona looked down at the coffee and then up at the man standing over her. “What do I look like? Your secretary?” the woman deadpanned quietly, closing the lid on the laptop as she stood up and walked away.

Michaels frowned. Ever since the ‘incident’ involving Flint and Superboy the Ross woman had been giving him the cold shoulder. It wasn’t possible for her to know anything, but he didn’t like it – and he didn’t like her – one bit. “Charming,” the doctor spat coldly. Looking around the room, the hawkish physician grabbed the attention of another researcher. “Do you know where Donovan is?”

“He said he had a meeting to attend this morning.”

“Meeting?” Michaels echoed curiously, agitation growing as the words sank in. A team. A partnership. Developing Superboy together. Well, obviously Donovan was a man of his word. “What meeting?” Michaels growled impatiently.

And that was when he saw the television.

The Starbucks tray hit the floor in a deluge of black gold.

“That son of a…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
​

NBC Studios
Rockefeller Center, New York City​

“Good morning, America,” George Stephanopoulis said, smiling into the camera as he stood in the heart of New York City with a screaming crowd on all sides of him. “This morning Robin’s in the studio with one of NASA’s key biomedical researchers, Doctor Dabney Donovan. Robin?”

“Thanks, George,” the ebony-skinned Robin Roberts stated as the cameras in the studio switched to where she saw across from a mustached man reclined back on a loveseat. Turning her head away from the camera and toward her guest, the woman said, “Doctor Donovan, thank you for joining us this morning.”

“Thank you, Robin. It’s a pleasure to be in New York this morning,” Dabney quipped with his trademark smile directed straight at the camera.

“Doctor Donovan, you’re the lead scientist on what I believe is referred to as Project Superboy, correct?”

“That’s correct, Robin,” Dabney answered cordially, turning to face her as he folded his hands in his lap. “Though like everything related to Superboy that wasn’t the original idea.”

“Could you elaborate on that for our viewers, doctor?”

“Well, there wasn’t a Project Superboy for one. However Superboy came by our planet, I just happened to have been the first human that he encountered. And I’ve been with him ever since.”

Robin nodded. “So you don’t know how Superboy traveled to Earth?”

“We know that he can traverse space without the need for any special equipment, but I’m not sure that Superboy knows how he came by our world,” Dabney explained, chuckling lightly as he added, “Anyone who has children can appreciate the difficulties of getting a young child to describe a sequence of events.”

Nodding, Robin shifted the line of questing slightly. “Doctor, just how young is Superboy?”

“There’s a lot we don’t know about Superboy,” Dabney answered in a more serious tone, leaning forward slightly as he put his hands forth and added, “However, our concept of time is solar-centric. Our day equals our planet’s rotation and our year its orbit around the sun. To apply the concept of ‘days’ or ‘years’ to someone from another galaxy would require some kind basis for comparison.”

“I see,” Robin acknowledged simply. More pointedly, she asked, “And where is Superboy this morning, doctor?”

“School. We’ve just started him in a third grade class in Metropolis.”

Reaching down to something by her chair, Roberts produced a newspaper and passed it over to Donovan as she continued, “The morning edition of the Daily Planet had a lot to say about Superboy’s role in the rescue of reporter Cat Grant,” the news anchor began. “Is it true that Superboy is friends with her son?”

Examining the paper for a moment, Dabney looked up and seemed to hesitate for a moment – not quite following where this was going. “I wouldn’t say friends, I’d say ‘best friends.’”

“And would you describe the relationship between Superboy and Superman?” Robin continued. “Or Supergirl for that matter. Is this an alien family, doctor?”

Setting the newspaper down, Dabney leaned back in the loveseat and seemed to take a somewhat more guarded expression. Clearing his throat, he answered, “No, at least with regard to Superboy there are no familial relations to the other Supers.”

“Has he said anything about why he’s not with his family?”

“Only that he was aboard a spacecraft with them and there was an accident of some kind, after which he describes being in Metropolis.”

“So Superboy was revealed recently at a press conference as the person responsible for the rescue of Space Shuttle Excalibur, as well as Astronaut Micah Flint…” Robin began, consulting her notes for a moment, pausing a second before she then added, “…who was later killed by Superboy, would you care to elaborate on that, doctor?”

Dabney reached a hand up to adjust the collar that seemed to be tightening around his neck. Clearing his throat a second time, Donovan paused to take a sip of water from a nearby glass before responding. “Lieutenant Flint unfortunately suffered some kind of physical mutation as a result of exposure to whatever radiation caused the failure of the space shuttle.” A handkerchief came out to dab the sweat beading on Donovan’s brow. What people said about those studio lights were true, he was in ‘the hot seat’. Wetting his lips, Dabney added, “He was obviously in a great deal of pain and we believe it drove him mad. He nearly destroyed our entire facility at Pike Island, and likely would have killed a number of personnel had Superboy not stopped him.”

“Most recently Superboy and Superman together rescued Ms. Grant. Can you tell us what’s next for Superboy, doctor?”

“He’ll actually be traveling to the International Space Station this afternoon,” Donovan remarked, relaxing once more as he again put forth his best smile for the camera. “As you know, the Space Shuttle Daedalus is there now completing the mission originally assigned to Excalibur, which included some repairs. An additional component piece was identified as in need of replacement that we hadn’t planned on, so he’ll be delivering that.”

Laying her notes aside for a moment, Roberts looked directly at Donovan and asked, “With the planned retirement of the space shuttle program, do you see Superboy as a possible alternative for deliveries to the space station?”

“Superboy’s ability to traverse our atmosphere at all levels gives us flexibility in responding to the needs of the international space station, or our other space experiments, that the space shuttle program does not.”

“I see,” Robin answered, falling quiet for a moment before she leaned forward and said, “So, doctor, would it be fair to say that Project Superboy is the planned exploitation of a child by the United States government?”

Donovan felt like a deer caught in the headlights, the smile fading from his face as he brought the handkerchief back up to swab at the sweat now pouring down his head, a finger slipped under the collar that was choking the life out of him. Grabbing a drink of water, the scientist looked over at the woman and tried to formulate a response…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *​

Benedict Arnold Elementary School
Metropolis, Massachusetts

The large, golden retriever-like Kryptonian canine lounged on top of the roof of the educational structure, sunning itself as it dozed lazily in wait for school to end. The bumper to a Ford Mustang rested nearby from the dog’s earlier game of chasing cars. The dog’s ears twitched with the sound of children playing, its muzzle laid down as the dog closed its eyes and dreamed of squirrels…

Within the school itself, Lor was finding that the experience was everything he’d imagined it would be along with many other things he hadn’t imagined. The exposure to a structured approach to the human English language he had expected, even looked forward to, but then there were social references that were revealing of humanity. In that regard he had been introduced to some of their nationalistic history as well as technological achievements – the most notable of which seemed to be a device known as a Nintendo DS.

Unfortunately, electronics did not stand up well to use as anything involving an excited Kryptonian and button mashing was certainly headed afterward to the trash.

More than anything, it was simply amazing to be surrounded by other kids. Adam had been the first kid his same age that Lor had met, and this place had tons of kids. Some even younger. And some even older.

Turned out older kids weren’t always nice to the younger ones.

“What have you got there, freak?”

It was the time of day known as recess. Lor had been learning a game known as hopscotch from some other kids when he’d heard Adam’s voice.

“Give it back!”

Turning his head, Lor-Zod saw a trio of larger boys surrounding the hapless-looking third grader, one of which was holding what Lor recognized as Adam’s DS. Recognized, because Dabney had to buy it for him as a replacement for the one Lor had broken.

One of the boy’s pushed Adam down. “Or what, freak?”

“Jump for it, freak,” the one holding the DS demanded.

“He said, give it back.”

The three boys glanced up, one shoving Adam aside as the trio advanced on the similarly small, sandy-haired boy in the red shirt. “Oh, look, the freak made a friend,” the one carrying the DS quipped as he loomed over his new target of opportunity. “Who are you supposed to be? Superfreak?”

“No, the S stands for ‘shrimp’,” another boy commented snidely.

“What’s your name, shrimp?” the third demanded.

“Your mommy buy you that t-shirt, shrimp?” the first asked, reaching out to shove Lor.

Instead, it was the bully who took a step back.

Slowly, Lor-Zod levitated himself off the ground until he was the one looking down at the trio.

“S-S-Superboy! He’s really…” one of the bully’s stammered, as the DS slipped and fell to the ground.

An impish smile slipped across Lor’s face, right before the first bully tried to run…

 

[trustyside-kick]

OOC: Previously...

Temple of Morpheus
The Dreaming City
The Himalayas

After the two main guards of the gate fell, so did the rest of the Dreaming City. And far easier as well. There were others like the guards that transformed into the same type of Yeti-humanoid like creatures through magic, yes, however they lacked a certain amount of skill and strength the other two did. And Orm Marius spared no one. Not one. Just as he slit the throats of some of the men or stabbed them in the heart with their own swords and javelins, he did so with the women and the children.

No one was innocent. All gave worship to Morpheus rather the God of the Seas in which they once praised first and above all. It is religious genocide at its finest, and the Ocean Master was starting to understand just how good he was at it. And how much he liked it. Of course, the were much more behind the motives of his actions.

Orm Marius will forever be grateful for the second chance at life that Poseidon had given him, but this trip to the Dreaming City was also very personal. Morpheus is the God of Dreams after all so who better to rid the Ocean Master of the nightmares that he cannot quite understand yet torment him than he?

The Priests of Morpheus who prayed in the temple while the rest of the citizens were laid to slaughter by the agent of Poseidon's hands were dealt with last. And partially because of that fact. Even when the true power of Poseidon's Rage was visible to them, still they clung to their false God Morpheus to save them this day. They did not seek forgiveness...even though it is not as though Orm would take any in Poseidon's name. And so he killed them in the slowest, most gruesome and inhumane ways possible...without the use of magic.

Exhausted, for the act of genocide on a city as large as this was tiring to the physical body and Orm had used much energy, he takes a seat at one of the benches at the center of the Temple of Morpheus. Why hasn't the God of Dreams cast himself down yet? It was the thing on the Ocean Master's mind that caused him much annoyance. And so he shouts throughout the temple.

"So this is how the God of Dreams cares for his followers! Allowing them to be slaughtered like the foolish lamb that flocked his way!! OR ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE GREAT POWER THAT IS POSEIDON'S EMBRACE?! FACE ME, MORPHEUS!!"

Nothing. Still nothing. The very thought only infuriates the agent of Poseidon that much more.

Staring at the open ceiling in which the followers of Morpheus would also do when sending their prayers to him, Orm brings his hands together and mocks as instead of praying under his breath he sends insult to the God of Dreams with a big grin on his face. And while his eyes are fixated on the open ceiling above, his ears pick up the scruffle of what sounds like someone trying to move about the temple behind the few still standing pillars and rubble. Ocean Master takes a look with the peripherals of his eye, acting as though his attention is still to the sky, and his grin widens.

"Ah, a Priestess of Morpheus. No wait...I apologize...an Oracle."

Turning his head in the direction of the frighten woman in silver and black robes, Orm lets out a chuckle before he takes off his helmet and starts to walk over to her.

"It is said that an oracle does not choose to have the powers bestowed upon her, but that they are bestowed upon her by the Gods themselves. So tell me, Oracle...do you bear the gift of precognition? What is your...prophetic opinion on the events that are to come?"

Realizing she has no other options, the Oracle of Morpheus' temple gets on her two feet and runs for the door. Orm scoffs. Casting a spell, suddenly the Oracle's legs and feet are ensnared by magical binding energy and she tumbles over.

"Pfft. 'Form of divination'. Do you know that is what some say to describe your very being? They put you up sometimes as being just as important as the Gods themselves. But I know precisely what you really are."

Gesturing with his hands and turning around, Orm levitates the binded Oracle with him as he walks back to the center of the temple. He takes one last look up at the open ceiling, and then commands her to float at the center of the desecrated temple as he steps aside. He spreads her arms and legs apart, and then casts another magical binding to force her head upward towards the heavens.

He then walks up to her, and whispers into her ear.

"A ****e."

Chuckling he clasps his arms behind his back and walks around the temple in full circle slowly.

"A concubine. Nothing more than a spiritual lover for the Gods. For who loves a God more than an Oracle?"

Picking up a metal stand whose purpose was to hold up one of the candles, the Ocean Master conjures a spell which causes the metal to twist and bend at his will. In the end, at one end lies the mark of Poseidon: a trident. Although it is bent backward forming a 90 degree angle.

"You wish to show your love, Oracle? Then show your love to your TRUE God, Poseidon."

Igniting the tip of the metal bar at the trident mark, Orm Marius brands the left shoulder blade of the Oracle. She lets out horrid screams as the trident mark is branded upon her flesh and begins to weep. When he is done, he drops the piece of metal, and looks to the skies.

"Hmph. Nothing. Still Morpheus chooses to hide his form. He does not care for you, Oracle. He did not care for any of your kin that I laid to waste this past hour. And yet it is he in which you all decided to give your faith and love to. You desire to know the love of the Gods, woman?"

Standing at her backside, Orm rips apart part of her robes, exposing her backside and bottom.

"Then I shall ride you...until you moan Poseidon's name. Moaning in his praises as you enjoy it, you filthy Oracle ****e of Morpheus."

And as he places his hands upon her waist, and the Oracle again begins to weep, there is a sudden boom within the temple, and a black smoke.

"OCEAN MASTER!!"

As the smoke takes form, a form towering over the agent of Poseidon, the God of Dreams finally makes his presence known. The Ocean Master chuckles, as it was never his desire to have to actually rape the Oracle, and picks up his helmet.

"Morpheus. Finally you decide to show your face."

 

[Andy C.]

My homecoming is a tearful one, my parents running out the door to greet us the instant our truck pulls into their driveway. Steve and I are welcomed back with open arms, and even Donna is right at home. Once things settle down, we sit down and have dinner.

Just like that, it's like we never left.

Steve and Dad hit it off like old friends, swapping stories from their respective times in the service and discovering a shared love for the band Rush. Mom asks Donna a million questions, where she is from, what kind of music she likes, if there are any boys she likes. And though Donna uncomfortably admits that she has no answers, Mom assures her she'll fit right in at school.

With dinner finished, Donna helps Mom with the dishes while Dad and Steve and I unload the truck and trailer. Steve and I put most of our things in my old room, while Donna is allowed to have the big room above the garage that we always wanted to rent out but never got around to it.

As I take my last piece of luggage out from the trailer, I could swear I see something floating through the air: a strand of gold, winding through the air, just out of my reach but stretching all the way up to the sky. Something in the back of my head compels me to reach out and grab it. Then Mom and Dad call to me, saying it's time to turn in for the night. I shake my head, and the golden strand is gone.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I can feel the pressures of the world lifted from my shoulders. Everything is as it should be. I'm at home, with my mother and father, with the girl I've taken under my care to give a life she deserves, and the man I love.

I close the bedroom door behind me, and give Steve a long, deep kiss. We spend the night in each other's embrace, trying not to wake up the entire house, before falling asleep ourselves, panting and exhausted.

When my eyes close I see that strand of gold, twisting and swirling before me, as if trying to get my attention. Once again I feel the urge to grab it, this time more urgent than before. Still, I resist. Whatever it is, it can wait.

I'm awoken by something warm dripping on my forehead.

My eyes open to see drops of crimson sprinkling down on me. There's a stinging, dry burning smell that permeates the air.

Blood. And fire.

I pull myself out of the haze of sleep and see a figure hanging from the ceiling. He's hanging over me, his throat slashed and his blood dripping down onto the bed, his eyes still wide with terror, a scream frozen on his lips.

"Steve!" I cry out helplessly. "Oh God, Steve, no!"

Flames lick up from the floor, and I realize the house is ablaze. I spring up from the bed and make it to the doorway before I hear the familiar sound of guns being cocked.

I kick open the door and see my mother and father backed against a wall, while a half-dozen men in black body armor raise their assault rifles and take aim.

"Stop! Let them go!"

They pay me no attention, and my cries are drowned out by the deafening sound of gunfire. My mother and father are torn to shreds by the torrent of lead that rips through their bodies, then slump lifelessly to the floor as barely-recognizable masses.

Their work done, the soldiers turn their eyes to me. White-hot rage courses through my veins, and when the first of the armored men approaches me, I slam my fist as hard as I can into his chest. To my amazement, my fist pushes straight through him, as if I were punching a man made of paper. He collapses, gouts of blood spurting from the massive hole in his chest, before the other five men rush me at once.

I'm dragged out of the house as it is engulfed in flames, towards more armed and armored soldiers, and......

"....Cheetah...."

She smirks as I'm brought in front of her.

"Did you really think you were safe now?" she asks mockingly. "Did you think any of you were safe from me? Or from Kobra?"

Two of the soldiers drag Donna out of the house, bashing her on the back of the head with the butt of their guns to keep her from resisting.

"You let down your guard," Cheetah says as she casually approaches Donna, still delirious from the pain. "This is what happens when you let down your guard while I'm on the hunt."

Cheetah bares her gleaming white claws.....then slowly drags them across Donna's throat. The girl tries to scream, but it's garbled by the blood pouring out of the wound, and with a choked gurgle, the falls limply to the ground.

"You are never safe from me, Diana," she says, turning back to me, satisfied.

A boundless fury shoots through my veins, jolts of lightning running through my every muscle, my mind a firestorm of hate. I pull against the men who try to hold me down, and they come apart like tissue paper, limbs flying away from crushed and crumpled bodies.

The others open fire, but I swat their bullets away like flies. Before they can even react I'm upon them, and I cut them down effortlessly. An open-palmed slap caves in a skull. A crescent kick slices through a torso like a blade. A chop with the edge of my hand splits a face open. They fall apart as if they were nothing at all.

And with this power flowing through me, they truly are nothing at all to me.

Even Cheetah, with her great speed and lethal claws, is nothing. She slashes at me, and I grab her forearm with one hand and squeeze. The bones crackle like old wood, and the murderess screams in agony.

My other hand clasps around her throat.

"You're wrong, Cheetah," I say with a cold glare. "It's you who is never safe."

For a fleeting moment, I see the strand of gold out of the corner of my eye. The urge to reach for it is palpable, to follow it into the sky and away from the horrors here.....

....then Cheetah spits in my face.

I yank upwards, and with a wet POP, I pull her head from her body.

She falls before me, and I spit on her corpse in return. Coated in blood and veins still coursing with hate, I survey the wreckage that was my home, my parents, my lover, my ward. I look at the ragged remains of the Kobra soldiers, of Cheetah.

Kobra is next. Just as Cheetah was, he will never be safe from me.

No one is safe from me now.

 

[Andy C.]

Lex Luthor​

"Once again, you find your way into my sanctum without effort," the man in dark blue robes says, barely glancing up from his studies as I approach him. Behind him, a green bell, a silver wheel, and a red jar sit on a shelf, casting shadows just a little bit deeper than the light of the room should allow. "Some day I will learn the secret has to how you can best my traps and illusions. What counterspells do you know? What warding sigils do you wear? What charms do you have to protect you?"

"Felix, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. I don't believe in magic."

I once read about a master of martial arts, a man who had spent the majority of his life dedicated to the focusing of his chi. He became so adept at this that he learned how to direct his chi to a single point, and could knock a man completely unconscious with barely a touch of his fingertip.

He demonstrated this ability again and again, going up and down the ranks of his students, from the most fresh-faced novice to his most loyal right-hand pupil, and not a one could withstand his knock-out touch. To prove it was not some parlor trick, he would pull random spectators from the audience and do it to them as well.

Then one day a man of science contested the master's claims, saying that chi was nothing but superstitious rot paraded around by ancient cloistered monks. He was resolute in his disbelief, and when the martial artist attempted his knock-out chi touch, the scientist was completely unharmed. He tried it again and again, even breaking his own code of honor and attempting to break the scientist's chakras at a point which would be deemed lethal. Every time, the scientist was unscathed and unimpressed.

It was a matter of self-deception, much like most conventional forms of hypnosis: those who were knocked out by the martial artist's touch had only done so because in the back of their minds, they wanted it to happen. They believed in it, even the doubtful spectators, and so to them it was real.

I have learned the same is true in the case of 'magic,' or whatever other names the manipulation of dimensions and probabilities are called. Those who practice it will it into happening, and those who witness it believe it to be so, and therefore it is so. However, a man who knows such things to be impossible, and who solidly and steadfastly holds to that knowledge even when his senses tell him otherwise, can negate its hold.

Felix Faust is quite possibly the most powerful sorcerer who walks the earth, and has been for some time. However, he has no power over me.

I don't believe in magic.

"Vandal Savage told me you were coming," Faust says as he peruses an ancient scroll in a long-dead language. "He said you were looking for the traitor who subverted your plans for world domination. I can assure you, I had nothing to do with it."

"That's very likely, yes," I say, "Unfortunately, as you are the only other member of the Society's inner circle with access to the L-Soft AI and its functions, that leaves us all with a bit of a puzzle. It isn't me, it isn't you, nor is it Ra's al Ghul, Kobra, Vandal Savage, or the Ultra-Humanite. So who can it be? Perhaps one of us was taken hostage by some unknown entity?"

Faust grins.

"Demonic possession? Well, that would certainly place the ball in my court. But no, most of the major demons are already at work on other things. The daughter of Trigon has come of age, and from what Brother Blood has told me, the event is going to prove.....memorable."

"A disguise, then? LexCorp surveillance equipment can detect virtually any form of conventional image alterations, from holograms to reconstructive surgery. However, someone with a more unconventional approach may have bypassed technological detection."

"Possible, but doubtful," he says with a frown. "Glamours of that caliber are indeed possible, but usually require a long period of contact and study with the person to be mimicked. And none of us are particularly sociable."

I can see he is deep in thought now, much as I am. Despite my distaste for his use of arcane rubbish, if there is one quality that Faust and I share, it is an insatiable thirst for knowledge. A problem such as this will surely put his faculties to the test.

"Think it over, Felix," I say. "I'm arranging a meeting of the Society in five days, where we shall all discuss this in a more open manner. In the meantime, I suggest you work on the security of your 'impenetrable' sanctum. Some simple mechanical locks would be an improvement."

With that, I leave him to his work.

If there is not a traitor within the ranks of the Society, then there is an infiltrator of some kind. However, between the League of Assassins, the Cult of Kobra, the vast psychic powers of the Ultra-Humanite, the immortal tirelessness of Vandal Savage, the mystical prowess of Felix Faust, and the unconquerable intellect of Lex Luthor all set at work, the saboteur will not elude us for long.

We will crush him under our feet.

Then we will get back to our proper business.....bringing the rest of humanity to our heels as well.

 

[Bounce]

Benedict Arnold Elementary School
Metropolis, Massachusetts

Some kids were content to call it trouble enough when teachers were summoned, but not Lor-Zod. Before lunch, the Metropolis Police Department, Metropolis General EMS Services, and the Fire Department had blanketed the school in an auditory cacophony of sirens. Shortly after which, Superboy had landed in the principal’s office.

And so began the series of lectures on bullying, on power, and on responsibility. All of which became so uniform in tone that Lor had to wonder if adults went to school to learn how to recite speeches such as this.

And then there was the crying, which was mostly done by the kid who had taken the Nintendo DS and then held it over Adam’s head, followed by the sobs of the kid’s mom about how she couldn’t believe that her ‘poor baby’ would be rough-housed with in that manner.

No one talked to Adam or any of the other kids from the playground.

It seemed to establish a norm for the species. Humans liked to talk, but didn’t like to listen.

Swinging his legs idly in his appointed seat just outside of the principal’s office, Lor glanced up as the door to the office swung open to allow Dabney Donovan and Fiona Ross to exit. “I can’t believe it,” Donovan muttered aloud, sparing the brown-eyed boy a brief glance before the man simply shook his head and turned away. “Just one day…”

Lor turned his head up as a shadow loomed overhead, finding the stern-faced Ross glaring at him with a look that probably would have made the Batman flinch. “Congratulations, you managed to hang three kids by their underwear from the top of a twenty-five foot flagpole,” the Department of Metahuman Affairs case worker snapped coolly, crossing her arms in front of her as she leaned back and stared down at him. “Did it ever occur to you how hurt they’d be if they’d fallen before the fire department had arrived?”

“Was that before or after the cops, EMS, and - of course – the major media outlets showed up?” Donovan interjected.

Lor-Zod looked over at Donovan, then back up at Ross, and then down to his feet as he shrank down somewhat in the chair. “Krypto would have caught them,” the boy began, trailing off as he thought about the possibility a moment longer. “I think…”

Lor wasn’t sure what was scarier, the look on Miss Fiona’s face or the way that the vein in her forehead stood out like that. “Not. Another. Word,” Ross snapped quietly.

“Let’s try and be positive about this,” Donovan commented from the other side of the hallway. “It was only his first day. And he did manage to make it to recess.”

The geneticist took a step back as the woman turned, leveling that cold glare in his direction. After a second of uncomfortable silence, Fiona finally quipped, “Right, you go be positive and I’ll go try and convince the families not to file suit against the government.” At a brisk pace, the woman started down toward the reception where the three kids and their parents were waiting. Pausing, Ross pivoted back on her heel to launch another pointed glare at Donovan’s direction. “Not to mention convincing the administrators to only suspend him and not remove him. A topic of which I’m sure will come up at the next PTA meeting, which you will be attending.”

With a frustrated sigh, Dabney pulled a hand through his mass of graying brown hair, then motioned for Superboy to hop down from the chair. Leading the boy out of the school, Donovan fished in his coat pockets for the crushed pack of cigarettes, shoving one between his lips as he searched next for a lighter.

“I can’t believe this,” the man muttered, cigarette still clasped in his lips as the pair moved to opposite sides of the H2 Donovan drove, at last coming up with the lighter and igniting the cancer stick. Rolling down his window and taking a long draw on the cigarette, Donovan slowly exhaled as he got into the truck. “I used to be the kid hanging from the flagpole. Now I’m responsible for the kid hanging the kids from the flagpole.”

“But, I…”

“Just because you can do these things doesn’t mean that you should!”

“So I…”

“And what on Earth possessed you to do it in the first place!?”

This time Lor stayed quiet. When several seconds passed with no further outbursts, the Superboy finally asked, “Can I say something?”

“Yes!” Donovan blurted aloud, as though frustrated at that being a question. “I’m asking you a question. This is exactly the kind of attitude I’m talking about.”

Drawing in a breath, Lor tried to think back on the sequence of events himself. “Okay, it was, like, recess an’ I was playin’ this game called hopscotch an’ I, like, saw these three kids an’ they came an’ were pushing around the smaller kids on the playground, an’ then they, they, like, took Adam’s DS an’ started pushing him around when he told them to give it back, an’ then… an’ then they, like, tried to push me around an’ stuff when…”

“Wait… wait, wait… So you didn’t start this?” Donovan demanded, taking advantage of the red light to look down at the child seated beside him. Sure, the National Transportation Safety Board would say that kids should be buckled in the back seat but Superboy would do more damage to the air bag than the air bag could possibly do to him. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Nobody asked me,” Lor answered with a shrug.

The sound of someone honking alerted Dabney to the fact that the light had changed. Driving another block, Donovan finally picked back up on the conversation. “So they tried to push you around and…?”

“An’ they dropped Adam’s DS. An’, like, they were calling me names an’ stuff, so I decided to push back.”

Nodding, Donovan let the statement sink in for a moment before nearly doing a double take and almost swallowing his cigarette. “Wait, why did you decide to push back?”

With a shrug, Lor again focused his attention down to his feet. “Cuz’ they were, like, being bad to the kids that were, like, smaller than they were an’ stuff,”

That was what Donovan had thought that he’d said. Driving in silence for another moment, Dabney quietly noted, “I thought you said that the weak didn’t deserve to be protected?”

Lor shrank down in his seat. “My father says that…” the boy mumbled lowly.

“But you didn’t like that those kids were picking on Adam, did you?”

Beside him, the brown haired Kryptonian just shook his head.

“So you did it for Adam?”

Chewing on his lower lip, the boy seemed to hesitate for a moment; as though fearful the answer would only get him in more trouble, before finally nodding his head.

“Because you wanted to protect him?”

“Because it wasn’t fair!” Lor complained aloud finally. “There were, like, three of them an’, like, they were, like, bigger than everyone else!”

Donovan couldn’t help but nod his head at that remark. “There’s a lesson here that most people don’t learn until they’re much older. You can do the right thing for the wrong reasons; and you can do the wrong thing for the right ones,” Dabney commented, wondering at what point he’d become qualified to impart words of fatherly wisdom. “What you did was still wrong. You should have gone and gotten a teacher to handle those bullies, but you were right to come to the defense of someone being picked on.”

Nodding, Lor fell silent for a short bit. Finally, the boy turned his head toward Donovan and asked, “The flag pole thing was a little much, huh?”

“Kid, if you looked up ‘overkill’ the dictionary, that’s pretty much what you’ll see.”

“So I still in trouble?”

“Yes, you’re still in trouble,” Donovan answered shortly, before smiling as he added, “But I’m proud of you.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ​

WGBS-TV Studios
Metropolis, Massachusetts – that afternoon…

A thick cloud of smoke hung over the table where the two men went over the books. One, a portly accountant who was sweating like a New York bookie and the other dressed in a gimmicky green pinstripe suit.

Plucking the well-chewed cigar from his mouth, the accountant turned to look over at the dapper gentleman. “Oz, you need to face reality,” the portly man stated flatly, turning the calculator so that the other man could read what the numbers read. “Even the big one’s are having a hard time keeping above the red. Children’s educational television just isn’t the market it used to be.”

Dismissively, the man named ‘Oz’ turned the calculator back toward the accountant. “And I’m saying we’re just in a ratings slump. That’s all.”

“Oz, you already took out a second mortgage on your home to cover some of the production costs from last year and we still are in the red,” the accountant complained, reaching up a hand to blot the sweat running down his head. “We’re losing more sponsors every day. We’re not profitable. And we haven’t been in two years. You have no idea the pressure I’m getting from the studio.”

Leaning back, the green-suited gentleman shook his head. “I think we just need to…” he began, the corner of his eye catching a glimpse of the television that was tucked away into one corner of the office.

“Oz, it’s time to hang it…”

Leaning forward, the legs of Oz’s chair struck the ground with a loud clatter as the man snatched the television remote from off the table and turned to raise the volume up. “Shhh… shut up, shut up,” the man demanded.

“…Jane, we’re looking at live video from the Space Shuttle Daedalus which is docked at the ISS. If you look carefully, you’ll see what looks like a small object in the lower corner of the screen… Yes, we have confirmation now. That is Superboy.”

“He isn’t wearing any kind of space suit.”

“No, it appears however that he is wearing one of the blue NASA flightsuits normally worn by astronauts.”

“That is truly amazing. Do we have more information on the part that Superboy is carrying to ISS?”

“It’s a component for a pump that is part of the station life support system. Daedalus wasn’t carrying it with them as that wasn’t one of the systems due to undergo repair…”

“That’s it,” Oz declared firmly.

“That’s what?”

Turning, Oz jabbed a finger directly toward the monitor. “That’s the solution.”

“We’ve already covered astronauts…”

“No. Superboy,” the man stated, a slow grin forming as an idea began solidifying in his mind. Pulling out his WayneBerry, the man quickly scrolled to the internet as he continued on, “Think about it! Every kid wants to be Superman, right? That kid is Superman. He’s a marketing cash cow and NASA knows it, too. Look, it’s right here on their web page. ‘Superboy to answer questions by Twitter from the International Space Station,’” Oz remarked, holding out the Twitter announcement so that the accountant could see it for himself.

“So what do you want to do? Get NASA to sponsor us?”

“We just need to become the show that Superboy watches,” Oz said with a Cheshire grin. “If other kids know that Superboy watches the Uncle Oswald Show, they’ll watch too.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ​

National Aeronautics & Space Administration
Metropolis-Pike Island Research Facility, Massachusetts

Pictures of the Micah Flint autopsy filled the room. As a physician, it had been an interesting challenge performing the port mortem. Superboy’s solution of punching through the eye cavity and into the brain pan, while grotesque to contemplate, had been effective in destroying the brain matter. Virtually liquefying it as a matter of fact. But, with the assistance of a jack hammer and a diamond-tipped saw, Albert Michaels had eventually been able to expose the internal organs and delve deeper into the mystery of what happened to Micah Flint.

And it was only now that Michaels could really appreciate the potential that Flint represented. “You failed me, but you were so very close…” Michaels muttered aloud, staring up at a large display of Micah’s bloodied corpse. Leaning forward, Michaels held up a small vial of blood, his smile reflected in the glass as he added, “We’ll just have to make some improvements.”

“Albert?”

At the inquisitive sound of his name, Michaels turned in his chair to see the stocky form of Dabney Donovan stepping into his medical lab. “Ah, the prodigal one returns,” Albert quipped snidely, rising from his chair as he asked, “To what do I owe the honor, your celebrityship?”

“Ah, yeah, about that…” Donovan began, clearing his throat for a moment. “I, uh, heard you were looking for me this morning.”

“Yes. You were in ‘a meeting’ I believe.”

“I should have told you,” Dabney admitted, then paused. “Strike that. I should have invited you.”

“Why start now?” Albert asked crassly, arms held out by his side. “I’d hate to think of myself as the third wheel.”

“The third…” Donovan began. “Wait, is this about Fiona?”

“No, it’s supposed to be about Superboy,” Albert deadpanned flatly. “Somewhere along the lines – between the calls from the reporters and the toy makers I think – that got lost in translation.”

“It is about Superboy, you’re right.”

“I’m so glad we agree,” Albert retorted with a hollow smile, tossing a vial up into the air and catching it before he offered it out toward Donovan like an olive branch. “I finally managed to get a full composite from the blood and hair samples. But I can’t make sense out of the chemical bonds,” Michaels commented, trusting that Donovan would he able to follow along.

Taking the vial, Donovan smiled as he stared down at what was presumably Kryptonian blood plasma. “Alien genetics. Sounds like fun.”

“You have no idea…” Michaels remarked quietly.

Tucking the vial into a pocket of his lab coat, Dabney looked back up and found his eyes morbidly glued to the images on the screens around Albert’s desk. “You’re still working on the Flint autopsy?” Donovan asked rhetorically. “Can you… maybe not display those pictures like that? I wouldn’t want Superboy to walk in and see them.”

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” Michaels tossed back softly.

“Ah…” Donovan began, clearing his throat a second time as he found himself taking a step back away from Albert Michaels. Then another. “I’ll get back to you on this,” Donovan remarked nervously, tapping the pocket that contained the vial as he ducked back out of Michaels’ office.

 

[Andy C.]

"You're back!" Tim Drake exclaims when I land on the rooftop of his apartment complex for our weekly check-up. "You didn't show up the last two times, so I was starting to think something happened."

"Nah, I'm fine," I say, with a little guilt that I didn't show up for the two weeks I was suspended and on lock-down at Miss Cooper's penthouse. "Just haven't been able to get out of the house for the last couple of weeks. Sorry I wasn't able to let you know. Anyway, are things still going okay in your neighborhood?"

"It's all right," he says, which unfortunately could mean a lot of different things. The Adams Housing Project is pretty notorious for its gang presence, particularly the Skeevers Crew, which is a branch of the Syndicate. I first met Tim when I rescued him from the Crew, who were trying to hold him ransom for money his mom owed them. Since then, I've stopped by every week to make sure he's okay.

"I've been listening to my dad's police scanner a lot," Tim says-- one thing I learned that we both have in common is that both of our dads are police officers (or was, in my case). "They're saying the Skeevers gang has been really quiet for about a week. I hope that means they're gone, but I'm worried it could mean something else--that they're planning something."

I have to admit, for a ten-year-old kid, Tim is very intuitive.

"And how's your mom? Is she....doing better?"

Tim shifts uncomfortably.

"A man came looking for her last week," he says. "It wasn't about the money, like the last people. I think she's her new boyfriend when Dad's not home."

"....oh," is all I'm able to manage. "I'm, um....I'm sorry to hear that. Are you doing okay?"

"He doesn't like me," Tim says. "He says he'll hurt me if I tell Dad about him. But I won't let him."

"That's good. Don't let people try to scare you like that, especially if they're bad guys."

"Next time he comes looking for my Mom," he says with an edge of anger, "I'm gonna make sure he doesn't come back."

As he says that, he pulls out a pistol that was tucked into his pants and shows it to me, almost proudly.

"Whoah, Tim, no," I say with a panicked outrage. "Just....no. You can't do that. Ever."

"But you said--"

"Standing up to a bad guy is one thing," I say. "But there's a line that you don't cross. Because if you do, then you're no better than he is."

Tim looks at the gun nervously, then back at me.

"It's my Dad's gun. He can use it without crossing the line, right?"

"That's different. He's a policeman. They're trained to uphold the law--it's their job. Normal people can't do that--there's no one holding them responsible. You can't just decide who lives and who dies."

Somewhere in the back of my head, I hear Mister Wayne telling me roughly the same thing about the bully I knocked unconscious two weeks ago. Another part of me feels like a hypocrite for saying these things while still planning to find Batman and kill him for what he did to my own father.

But that's different. I don't really care what happens to me. Tim shouldn't have to throw his life away like I'm going to.

Tim doesn't look very convinced.

"Think of it this way," I say. "You know those superheroes saving people in other cities? Superman? The Flash? What they're doing is actually illegal, because they're taking the law into their own hands. But people allow it because they don't cross those lines. They catch bad guys, but they still leave it to the law to punish them. Superman doesn't kill people. And you want to be like Superman, right?"

Tim shakes his head.

"I wanna be like Batman!" he says excitedly. I cringe as he says it.

"No you don't. Believe me. Look, next time this guy comes around, you call the police. You lock the doors, you get out of the house, you do whatever you have to do. But you don't use that gun, okay?"

He nods.

"I'm trusting you to do that, Tim. Be brave, like Superman. And hey, if you keep it up? I'll show you some moves when you're a little older so you can fight them yourself."

It's an empty promise--I honestly don't plan on seeing the end of the year. If I don't kill Batman when I find him, then he'll probably kill me instead. The more I think about it, though, the more I realize that it's going to hurt a lot of people. Mister Wayne, Miss Cooper, Tim........Rachel......

.....on the other hand, maybe training the kid will be just a little more motivation to survive when I finally catch Batman.

"Cool!" Tim says excitedly. "Okay, I promise I'll do the right thing. I'll be like Superman!"

"That's the spirit," I say with a grin. "All right, I need to finish my patrol for the night. See you same time next week?"

"You bet!" Tim says with a smile, and with that, I leap from the rooftop to the next one over, continuing my sweep of the Projects.

In all honesty I'm worried about Tim, and how his home life is going to affect him. I'm worried if I'm teaching him the right things, or if he's going to end up as screwed up as me.

Still, I want to make sure he's got someone to look after him considering how rough he's got it. And having someone look up to me at the very least makes me want to try harder, to be a better role model.

Maybe while trying to show him how to be good, it's making me better too.

Who knows? Maybe everyone needs a sidekick from time to time.

 

[Byrd Man]

Cairo, Egypt

I open the door into Farday's hotel room and come in. Lawton follows behind while Nemesis brings up the rear while he props up a semi-conscious Bronze Tiger.

"Come on, we have to go," Faraday says as he breaks down his equipment and computers. "Egyptian Police and military got a good look at your faces on the security cameras. They're passing around shots of Flag, Turner, and Nemesis to the local media. I can get us safe passage across the Suez Canal into Israel. From there, we can take a flight back to the states."

I calmly take my gun out of its holster and put it down on the table. I follow suit with my combat knife before walking up to Faraday.

"Hey, King..."

Faraday turns just in time to meet my right cross.

WHAM!

My punch strikes him in the face and drops him to the floor. Before I can get another shot in, Nemesis has his hands on my shoulder and pulling me away.

"I told you she shouldn't have been out on this mission, Faraday! And now she's dead! BECAUSE OF YOU!"

Faraday calmly stands up and tends to his bleeding nose.

"I'm going to do you a favor, Flag, I'm stopping the fight right here. We don't have time for this. Just know that if Psi hadn't come with us, that bandaged freak would have throttled the life out of you in the square. She saved your life, Lieutenant Colonel. Now get over it and get to packing. I expect to be on our way out of the hotel in five."

I push Nemesis away and turn around to pick up my gun.

"Oh, and Flag?"

I turn back around and look Faraday in his eyes.

"Put your hands on me again, I'll make sure it's the last goddamn thing you ever do."



24 Hours Later
En Route


I look out the window of the military transport plane as the Atlantic Ocean whizzes by below.

"You doing alright?" Turner asks as he sits down beside me.

He has his right arm in a sling and medical wrap wrapped around his sternum. A fractured arm and two broken ribs. The doctors at the military base in Israel patched him up the best they good. The also did the same for me, which is why the knife wounds on my arm and shoulder are all sewn up and bandaged.

"Yeah, just running the scene in the square over in my mind."

"What was going on with you and that burnt dude?"

"I haven't told Faraday yet, I'll wait until the official debrief, but apparently he's a former member of my old Delta Force unit."

"Well, I'll be damned. It is a small world after all. What happened to him?"

"Me and my team were sent to Syria to collect intel on an illegal nuclear power plant the Syrians had. It was believed they were producing nuclear weapons. The mission was FUBAR from the beginning. Mechanical problems caused our helicopter to crash land ten kilometers from the site. Killed three of my men on impact...."

I spend the next half hour telling the story. I tell it all, things like putting my gun to Blaine's head and the other warts included.

"He was screaming, being burned alive by those chemicals....so I shot him in the head. Thought I was putting him out of his misery. My one remaining soldier and I bugged out and headed for the Israel border. We were a mile away when a chopper came in and tagged Stephens. It got him in the gut and chest and tore into my leg. I limped across the border into Israel with Stephens on my back. He died before we could get him to the hospital."

"Damn...reminds me of what happened to me in Afghanistan. I'm the only man that walked away that day. ****s with your head, doesn't it?"

"Yeah....but it's different when you're the CO. Its one thing to be an enlisted man following orders from a man who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground....but to be the man who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground is different. I was responsible for those men and I failed them all. I have no idea how Blaine ended up with Jihad, but it's my fault he did. I was kind of hoping that I wouldn't have to deal with that once I found out I was getting reassigned from Delta."

"And here you are, leader of a group called the Suicide Squad where death is how we make a living. Ain't that a *****?"

"Yeah, life's real funny sometimes."

Turner and I sit in silence for several minutes before I speak up.

"You know, my great-grandfather was in the First World War. He was a company sergeant. I always heard this story growing up. His company was one of the first ones to go into battle during the Argonne Offensive. They were all used to trench fighting, and the first chance of real combat and going out of the trenches scared them to death. Even the officers were scared. That was when my great grandad called the company together and, as an NCO, gave them a speech. He told them that death is always inevitable. If they had to die, better that they die with honor and glory than to die a meaningless death back home. Those who died on that battlefield would be immortal, because the songs, stories, and tales written about them would carry on. That's all each and everyone of them could ever hope to do: carry on."

"You great grandpa make it out the war?"

"Yeah, but he lost an eye from a German bayonet just a few hours after he gave that speech to his troops. He won a few medals and came home after the armistice, but they said he was never the same. They said he was depressed and moody until he died in the mid 30's. I think that he wanted to die in France with his men. After that speech, he wanted to live forever on the battlefield. He wanted all of us to carry on. I guess he was on to something. Like he said, death comes calling for all of us and there's only one thing any of us can do."

"Carry on."

I look at Turner and nod.

"Carry on."
​

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Hugo has wasted little time in reshaping the Gotham University Psych department.

Anyone who has ever said anything negative about him has felt the urge to resign, and are replaced by those who have been positive towards him or who would never be a threat to him.

One name in particular has intrigued him: Dr. Silvania

Hugo prepares for the interview with Dr. Silvania. By reading over his resume again and bio.

An interesting fellow renowned and respected within the community. His studies on the human brain itself are extraordinary.

There is a knock at the door and Hugo greets Dr. Silvania.

He says, "Dr. Silvania welcome to Gotham University."

Silvania replies, "Thank you Dr. Strange it's a pleasure to meet you."

Hugo ushers him into his office closing the door and says, "the pleasure is mine doctor. Your work is most fascinating. I thought I would be the one to personally to give you the tour before you meet with the other faculty. Just between you and me you are the one I am pulling for and I will do what I can to help you land the position here."

Dr. Silvania says, "Well thank you sir, but I believe my qualifications will be enough."

Hugo says with a slight scowl, "A bit of arrogance in you Doctor."

Dr. Silvania looks now rather sheepishly at his feet as Hugo says smiling, "I like that quality."

Silvania looks up and the two men smile at one another.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Rhiannon and Alice leave the bridal shop. As they do Rhiannon notices that the paparazzi out front seem to be not only a foot taller, but they are focusing in more and her mother. Alice gives off a few polite quotes for the cameras and gets back into the car with Rhiannon.

As Rhiannon gets into the car she notices her feet have space between them and the floor.

Okay this is not normal at all! What is going on?

She looks at her mom and says, "Mom look at this!" Pointing to the floor.

Alice barely looks and says, "I don't see anything unusual Rhiannon. You really are acting odd today. Have you been partying behind our backs again?"

Rhiannon shakes her head and says, "Mom my feet are not touching the ground and my clothes are not fitting right."

Alice replies as they drive away, "You're the one who went on that diet 2 months ago when we all said you were just fine."

Rhiannon says, "Clothes are one thing but my feet mom..."

Alice says, "Listen Rhiannon there is nothing wrong with you. You are getting married in a few days it's just nerves! Or should we call off the wedding because you are suddenly having a nervous breakdown."

Rhiannon says, "No mom. I guess you're right maybe I am just seeing things that aren't there."

Alice replies, "All-right then. We're hosting a dinner party tonight and I need you to be in a right frame of mind this is a big deal for us. Tell you what I'll drop you off at the house and I'll finish the errands so you can get some rest. Your dad is out playing 36 holes so the house should be nice and quiet."

Rhiannon says, "Sounds good to me mom."

They arrive back at the house and Rhiannon heads to her room. As she lays in bed she notices that the room is getting bigger and bigger. Until finally she is practically swimming in her bedding and clothes.

Rhiannon finally gets through the mass around her.

Let's see if mom and dad think that this is nothing more than a case of nerves I can't wait for...WHAT THE HELL HAS HAPPENED TO ME? This is pure insanity! How did this happen

Rhiannon is visably shaken as she sees that she is now wearing the exact same clothes that she wore when the lab accident that turned her into The Atom occured, and is now only about 1 inch tall.

All-right now I'm a little worried!

 

[Spike_x1]

The Atom cuts on a another set of monitors and sensors and sees Wonder Woman enter from the hidden hanger.

She says, "It's Wonder Woman Superman. I'll cancel the Yellow-Alert. Gotta ask her about her entrances. Even when she is doing stealth she is really cool!"

The Atom floats away from the control panel and cuts off the monitors and sensors.

She says, "I guess we should go greet her."

Just then The Atom is overcome with a sense of being very drowsy. To the point where she is finding it difficult to stay hovering.

She lands on a crate and says, "I guess I'm still kinda tired. I was half-asleep when you came here and now that the adrenaline is wearing off it's...."

The Atom yawns and stretches. She says, "Sorry about that Superman. I am really sorry about that....I've got no idea what's going on with me. I...I...think...I need to....lay down for a...moment..."

With that the tiny heroine begins swaying back and forth and eventually falls over sound asleep.

Seeing the Atom suddenly fall asleep where she stood, I feel my own eyelids grow heavy. "Something.... something's really..." I try to catch my balance on one of the workbenches set up throughout the atrium, but my hand slips out from under my weight and I collapse to the floor.

"...wrong..."

Annoyed with the blaring noise, my hand slaps the beeping alarm clock into silence. My internal clock has been so messed up lately, I've unfortunately been needing the alarm for the last week in order to wake up in time to get started on the chores around the farm.

"Five more minutes, Clark," says Lana groggily as she tries to pull the covers back over her.

"'Fraid not, hun. I'll have the bacon and eggs ready in bit. It's your turn to make the coffee."

A few minutes later and Lana and I are seated in the kitchen, enjoying our breakfast while I read today's Daily Planet. Even if I hadn't lost my powers last year, I have to admit that I was tempted to stay in Metropolis and keep writing. Farming might have been what I grew up doing, but journalism was my real passion; standing for truth and justice in my own way, even without wearing a red and blue costume. Still, I could feel the Kent Farm calling to me nevertheless, especially after Dad retired. And Perry told me that there would always be a place for me at The Planet if I ever wanted it.

I have to admit though, Lois seems to have my beat covered, judging by her article I'm reading now, as the regular activities of supervillains and catastrophes seemed to have disappeared almost overnight. It's awfully lucky that the world doesn't appear to be in need of a Superman, at almost the same time I mysteriously lost my powers. Not to say that the life of Clark Kent: Civilian Farmer isn't a decent one. Upon my return to Smallville, I happened to reunite with Lana Lang, who I hadn't seen since I broke off our brief engagement just after graduating high school in order to leave Kansas behind and study journalism while traveling the world to put my then-developing powers to better use. The old spark was still there, and we've spent the last year in Smallville getting to know each other again, before I proposed to her last week when she again said yes.

Not a bad life indeed.

"Remember, you want to finish work early today, Clark." Lana's words over the kitchen table snap me out of my reverie. "Your old friends in the Justice League are coming over for dinner tonight."

"Oh, right. I'd almost forgot." I wonder how the old gang is doing these days.

 

[Saved]

Red Hood ​

Last Time ... I II​

Jason Todd's Apartment ​

Jason Todd paces up and down his apartment as he frantically begins to piece together his confession in his head. He tries to find the right words to construct the perfect sentences to explain everything he's kept hidden for two years. Unsurprisingly, he discovers the task to be as difficult as he'd imagined it would be. "Hey, Harley. You know why I'm so flaky and mysterious? I'm a vigilante who beats criminals to a pulp at night," he speaks out loud. "Oh, that's Shakespeare, right there."​

Jason continues to mull over his ever growing monologue, realizing with each passing second how insane the truth really is. Even if Harley accepts everything as the truth, and believes him wholeheartedly, it doesn't change the fact that the Red Hood is responsible for all the injuries Arkham's inmates currently enjoy. From a clearly professional standpoint, the chances of Harley condoning that kind of abusive treatment of psychologically fragile minds is miniscule.​

"Oh man," Jason says, running the bundled cuff of his sleeve across his forehead. "I really wish I had more time." But Jason knows his confession is voluntary. He knows that the option to shaft Harley once again, and possibly end this relationship all together is still open to chose.​

Knock Knock Knock​

The rapping at the door catches Jason's attention, and he realizes his time to think is over. Gaining his composure, he lets out a long breath as he calmly steps toward the door. He grips the handle, turns the knob, and opens the door to greet not only Selena, but destiny itself.​

"Hello, Jason," she says coldly.
"Harley," he smirks. "Would you like to come in?"
Her face tightens, "No."
"No?" He says, trying his charm.
"It's midnight, Jason. You said you wanted to be honest with me. If you want to tell me the truth, than here you go - now's your chance. Now's your opportunity to tell me something that will make me care enough to step inside and talk further about everything you - we've - been doing for the last two years. But, if you're just going to give me another excuse, than I'd rather just save myself the wasted hours and get some sleep." ​

Jason's eyes widen and surprise grips his being. Harley's harsh words tightened around her stoic disposition strike him like never before. Quickly, Jason realizes that nothing he can say tonight will fix all the damamge he's done. In his mind, Jason understands that all he wants to do is tell her the truth - but in his soul, Jason realizes that the truth will only make her bitter.​

"Yes, Harley, it's time for the truth," he begins, his voice heavy as he conjures his next thought carefully. "Harley," he says, her name painful to speak. "Harley, it's over." Harley's eyes narrow and her face contorts as she bites down on her tongue hard.
"So, even after everything, you still can't be honest with me?"
"You want the truth? You're right, I can't keep doing this to you. It's not fair. Not to me, but most importantly, not to you. You've done so much for me, Harley, and I can't thank you enough for it all. All I can do is keep from hurting you any further." ​

For a moment, Harley just stands quiet - staring him down with a look that nearly cuts a hole through his body. "Fine," she says suddenly. "So this is it, then?"
Jason cringes, wishing to say the opposite of the words exiting his lips. "I guess so."

She nods, leaning back on her heel as she inhales sharply. "I must say, I'm not surprised. Enjoy your secrets, Doctor Todd," she tells him as she turns abruptly and begins her walk down the long hallway to the elevator. "Because they're the only company you have left."​

Hanging his head, Jason bites his lip and closes his door. He lets out a long breath, wishing things could have gone differently. Wishing he could have told her everything and found bliss with the one person in his life who truly made him feel happy. But he made a promise to his mother, to himself and to Gotham. To him, the future of this city's soul far outweighs his own personal desires and pleasures. Sacrifice, a hero's reward.​

"Wow, talk about depressing," a somewhat familiar voice says, startling him. He looks up to view his univited guest, moving his hands into a fighting stance to possibly defend himself against the unknown threat. In the shadow of the room he sees a black figure standing still. A black cloak covers the visitor, drapping over the muscular build and pooling in a liquid puddle of fabric on the floor. The white eyes peer out through the darkness, giving off the expression of an eerie smirk as they narrow. "I would've called first if I had known I was going to walk into a Jordan Sparks novel." ​

The figure steps forward, slowly removing itself from the darkness to reveal it's identity. In her hands is Jason's helmet, the face of the Red Hood gripped tightly between yellow gloves. "Hey, boss," Batgirl says, her visage now in full view. "Gotcha."​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary
Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana
​

I lean back in the comfy chair and wait for the examination to begin.

"Recording now. Session 4592. Patient is Lieutenant Colonel Richard Flag III. Doctor Simon La Grieve, attending psychiatrist....first off, Colonel Flag, I'd like to congratulate you."

"Thank you....what's the honor?"

"Today is your sixth month anniversary with Task Force X."

"Oh, well, yay for me. I thought maybe you were being sarcastic about how the mission in Manila ended up."

"Oh, yes, you're latest operation. I've read the briefing, or at least the abridged version that Faraday gave me. You lost another teammate. I don't suppose you want to talk about it?"

I do what I always do whenever La Grieve tries to get into my mind. I look straight ahead and keep my mouth shut.

"That's what I thought. Colonel, you do known that I'm only trying to help, right?"

I shrug my shoulders and keep looking straight ahead.

"Mister Turner is pretty open during our sessions. He says that you two are close friends. Now, you talk to him, but you won't talk to me. Why is that?"

"Because Ben won't try to take every little word I say and turn it around on me."

"Why do you think that? Someone done that to you in the past? Do you have trust issues, Colonel."

I stand up and look La Grieve in the eye.

"I don't have trust issues....when I'm dealing with someone who's proven themselves. Ben, he's been out there, he's seen the type of s*** I've seen. He hasn't sat behind a desk his whole life and pretend to know what it feels like to be out in battle."

I turn to leave, ignoring La Grieve's protest to stay as I walk out the door.

********

"You gotta watch this, Flag," John Economos says as soon as he sees me enter the makeshift firing range he's set up. Economos is a deputy warden here. Him, La Grieve, and a few of the doctors in the infirmary are among the few inside Belle Reve that know the truth about the squad.

His firing range is actually an incomplete part of the prison. The side of Belle Reve that faces the bayou the torn down by Hurricane Katrina a few years back. The state of Louisiana was in the process of rebuilding it when they hit a fiscal situation. All work on Belle Reve was shut down, and the far eastern corner of the demolished side was never completed. Nobody freaked out since this corner of the prison is for staff and administration only. Louisiana's lose is our gain, as Economos turned the dilapidated corner into a firing range/deck. All the bullets we fire just go into the swampland.

"Lawton," Economos says, standing beside a clay pigeon trap. "You ready?"

"Born ready," Lawton says off to the side. He's decked out in his Deadshot gear, sans mask, with a blindfold tied tightly around his eyes.

"Pull!"

Economos yanks down on the rope in his hands and two clay pigeons whiz in the air over the bayou. Lawton, still blindfolded, pulls his arms up and fires his wrist-mounted guns in the air. The two clay pigeons explode into dust.

"Hot damn," Economos yells out.

"I'll take that as confirmation that I got 'em. Flag, how about you give it a shot. Seeing as how you're Mister Ranger Sniper and all."

"As much as I'd like to kick your ass, it'll have to wait until later. Faraday needs me."

"Such a shame. Economos, load it back up....I'm feeling lucky today, load up three in the trap."

I leave the shooting range behind and head for the cubbyhole that serves as Faraday's office. By the time I get there, he's waiting with the squad's fourth member.

"Faraday, Eve."

"Flag," Faraday says.

"Hello, Rick," Eve Eden, codenamed Nightshade, says with a smile. Eve is like me, a former officer that screwed the pooch and was swept under the rug into this lovely unit. Unlike me, though, she's a former intelligence spook that can do more than use a gun. Although, that part of her file is unavailable to me. Classified.

"What's going on?"

"We're getting some more recruits. One of them I'll be taking care of, and the other I need you and Eve to get to New York as soon as possible and pick our man up."

"Why two?"

"Cheetah is unavailable for the upcoming mission. CIA is picking her back up. They need some more intel from her. And of course, we need a replacement for Windfall."

Windfall makes the fifth Suicide Squad member I've lost under my leadership. There was Brick, Bolt....then Psi....Mindboggler got killed in Haiti, and Windfall in the Philippines.

"When do we leave?"

"Right now."


1 Police Plaza
Manhattan, New York


The holding cell swings open. Eve and I walk in and look over the man sitting on the cot.

"Werner Vertigo?"

"That's Count Werner Vertigo to you," he says in a European accent.

"Come with us, please."

"Who are you?"

"We're your only friends in this world. You're facing extradition to Italy, Werner, if you don't come with us, then it's thirty years of hard labor in a Italian prison."

"They do love their art in Italy. Always makes them angry when someone tries to steal it."

"Please, the Modigliani I stole can barely pass as art."

"Not like the Rembrandt you tried to take from the Met a few days ago."

"If this is your attempt at getting me to confess, it is a poor one. What do you want?"

"Come with us, and we make your jail time disappear. No extradition to Italy, France, England, or the half dozen other countries that have warrants out on you."

"What makes you think I believe what you're saying?"

I hold up a duffle bag and unzip it, revealing a pair of boots, a cape, and an eyepatch.

"Why else would we have you gear?"

Vertigo looks at me, then his gear, then at Eve.

"Throw in some pâté and a bottle of good bottle of wine, and we have a deal."

"Sorry. Spam and a bottle of wine cooler is the best I can do."

"And they call this country civilized."
​

 

[Batman]

It was all a lie.

My perfect life, the happiness I had finally found... nothing more than a delusion.

Hours of it running over through my mind serves as formidable torture as they allow me to rot away, trapped in this confined room. Nothing to look at but repetitive walls of white foam and my own fading account of what I dreamed, plunging me further down into a dark place that I can only barely keep from drowning in. I thought my grip on reality was more potent, my sense of being more assured. But in a second's glimpse of what might have been, I lost all sense of mind. My mind created a world where I wouldn't have to witness constant horror and crime, without having to feel vengeance. A world where I wasn't Batman anymore. But if this is where I woke up, and realized it was only a dream, I'm starting to wonder.

Was I ever really him in the first place?

In what feels like days, my room is visited by no one. No doctors or nurses, even loved ones come to see me during vistation hours, and it strikes me as odd. Whenever I get up to look out on the other side of the partition, there's no one there. No lights in the halls, even in the cells. Whenever I call out, there's no one there to react. For all that I know, I'm completely alone. Still wrapped up in a sea of endless, binding fabric that I still haven't managed to escape. Something's seriously wrong with all of this. But given my situation, I realize that nothing could possibly be right. Up until now, I was convinced that I was sleeping under the roof of a gigantic mansion, with a beautiful wife, loving parents, a doting butler, and we all lived in a city free of crime.

But it's not true. I live in... I should be living in a penthouse in the middle of Gotham. Alfred isn't my butler, and he certainly isn't as old, he's my executive assistant - while being my friend. I know that I lost Talia years ago on a recon mission in Bhutan. We were both in the League of Shadows led by Ducard, her father, who blamed me as much as himself for her death. And my parents... I...

I can't remember. But they're there, somewhere. I can see images of them and of myself, when I was a child. We lived in a house in The Narrows. Then there's a gap. I'm eventually forced to live with my uncle, the initial resident of Wayne Towers. We hardly get along. I start to shoplift and steal food from the street markets, out of defiance - or some sort of pain. He sends me away to the military. And in Afghanistan, I finally learn the true meaning of suffering. It's there that I decide to wage my own personal war with the people who would cause it. The rest alludes me, but I know that my life couldn't have possibly ended up like this. I was meant for something better.

"Mr. Wayne?"

I see the first face I've laid eyes on in days. But I recognize him immediately. He's... or at least, he should be Lieutenant Nygma. He opens the door and makes his way in, wheeling in a metal cart. Looks designed for prisoner transport more than a psychiatric patient.

"Dr. Hathaway is here to see you, Mr. Wayne. She's flown in from Chicago, so I've been asked to make sure that you try and be on your best behavior."

Looking up at him, still weak and dazed from the sedative, I look over at the cart and indicate it. He doesn't make direct eye contact, seemingly nervous. Twitching, rubbing the back of his head. Beginning to perspire.

"After what happened the last time we tried moving you, I think it'd better for everyone if you'd just let me strap you in. Okay?"

At this point, I don't see the use in fighting. Weakly, I get to my feet and walk over, looking at the leather straps that he intends to buckle me down with. Then I feel the straight jacket begin to loosen at his grip, and the thought of attempting an escape crosses my mind. But curiosity takes place of such desires, as I realize that this could be my opportunity to get answers. Where are these memories coming from if they're not real?

I have to know. I have to make sense of all this. Before I really do find myself as lost as these people believe.

"Mr. Wayne, have you ever heard of a rorshach test?"

I try not to say anything as the woman continues, unknowingly keeping me on edge with her resemblance to Selina Kyle. A name that's setting off a memory that I can't quite place, even with what appears to be her sitting right infront of me - done up to look like a typical psychiatrist. She pulls out several sheets of paper from her bag and places them on the table, careful not to show me what lies on the other side all at once.

"It's a standard psychological practice in anology. Analogy, as in relating one meaning to another meaning. Would it be alright if I tried a couple of these on you?"

I remain silent, but give a solemn nod. I don't quite know what the point of this is, but it'd work better in my favor if I attempted cooperation. My last outburst only resulted in being drugged, and I sure as hell don't want to risk that happening again. My mind has to stay focused and sharp if I'm to discover what's really going on in here.

"Wonderful. Now, if you can tell me what you see in the image..."

Before I can rest my eyes on it, something outside of the window catches my attention. Some patient that's being freed at the front gate. At first, I think I'm seeing things. But the more I focus on him, the more it becomes clear. That patient is The Monk, ceremonial robe and all. He's shaking hands with Jason and Falcone, happily conversing. I nearly get up out of my seat, but the doctor's expression causes me to look away. Need to play along.

"I..."

My first thought nearly escapes. But I sincerely doubt that blood-spattered walls and traces of intestinal fluid at a crime scene would make a proper indication of my sanity. So I decide to lie.

"I think... it's an animal."

Hesitantly, she nods and puts it away, writing down the results on her clipboard. My focus goes back to what's happening on the other side of window at the front gate. The Monk is gone, replaced with what looks to be that assassin I fought months ago, the one that tried to kill Edward Nygma. Deadshot. He even looks back up at the window and gives me a salute. Before I can mention anything to the doctor, she's produced another card.

"And this one? Take as much time as you need."

I merely glance at it and give an answer. My attention's too vexed by what's going on outside to really tell, but my first thought was that it was an image of a corpse sloppily stuffed into the trunk of a car.

"Two hands facing eachother, thumbs in the air."

Clearing her throat, she begins to switch cards again. And even before I fully turn, I can see the individual outside at the gate. Bright green hair, skin as white as chalk. A smile so big that I can still see it from here. The clown that was running the Gotham Circus a few months ago, the one that eventually disappeared. Belsaraph, laughing at me from the other side, poking his head in through the metal bars. They're releasing blatant psychopaths and killers at will, yet I remain locked away. My fists tighten on the table as the doctor produces a third, and hopefully final image.

"Mr. Wayne, I'd advise you to think long and hard about this one. I need sufficient data in order to be able to understand your condition, and so far, I think you're holding out on me."

Even while she's talking, my eyes dart over to the window again. Killer Croc, that lackey of the clown's that I started looking into after his employer closed down the Circus. He's been roaming Gotham's underworld trying to find grunt work under anyone that'll hire him. The doctor notices that I'm not paying attention and starts to move.

"Would you prefer that I close the blinds in order to keep your attention?"

My eyes widen as reach out a hand to stop her.

"No! I mean, no. Please, that's not necessary. I'll answer."

Content enough to sit back down, she turns the card over as I fold my hands together and try to look down, away from the window. But once I've gotten a look at the image, any thought of what lies beyond this room completely leaves me. It's an image that I've known for a long time, and all too well.

"I..."

"Remember to focus. This is vital."

I try to think of something. Anything. A lie of any sort.

But nothing comes to me.

All I can see is exactly what I'm trying to not to say.

"I... I can't."

"You must. For your own sake."

"It's..."

The world around us goes black.

"It's a bat."

I was wrong about to Arkham. I thought that it was a nessecity in order to cure the mind of psychopathic tendencies, believing that anyone could be eventually cured of their mental illnesses and become restored to a deep, basic good that lies beneath the surface. But that's not what it is at all. It's a gateway for them - for all of them. A stepping stone between madness and the freedom to inflict further madness.

They'll release the likes of The Monk. Deadshot. Belsaraph. Killer Croc.

But someone like me - someone who wants to help - is someone that is held behind these walls, poisoned with medicines and delusions to made to forget who they are, or what their life was really like before this.

Thanks to them, I've finally realized what the real evil of Gotham is.

And exactly what I need to do to in order to protect her.

 

[Mr. Majestic]

Giganta watches Majestic take the lighting attack from Black Adam. Although Majestic is powerful even she can tell that this has stunned him badly.

Time for me to press the attack and give Majestic a moment to catch his breath and get his bearings again.

Giganta picks up the portal and says, "You seem to be so focused in on this Black Adam. HERE!"

She hurls it through the air like a frizbee and says, "FETCH!"

Adam glares for a moment and gets the portal back with little effort.

Once he does he says, to Giganta, "Foolish Woman! You dare interfere with my destiny! You will pay!"

He hits her with the portal staggering Giganta badly.

Giganta falls against the Mountain and Adam says, "Now prepare to meet Oblivion!"

He flies towards her and Giganta rolls out of the way at the last second, and Black Adam slams into the side of the mountain.

He is somewhat staggered and Giganta grabs.

She says, "You underestimate us Adam! And that will be what your downfall."

She pulls back throws Adam into the ground creating a sizable crater.

I slowly begin to rise back to my feet. Black Adam’s last assault was a powerful one. It feels as if it left a burn mark on my back. Even though it caught me off guard I believe even if I knew it was coming and braced myself, it still would hurt just the same. Along with the pain it also seems as if took some strength out of me. If I didn’t know any better I would think I have a weakness to magic but I know that can’t be the case.

As I gather myself I scan the area to see how Doris is holding up. By the looks of the crater caused by her throwing Adam she seems to be quite well. Maybe her attack might have slowed him down a little bit. I should use my x-ray vision to see his condition. Right away I see he is about to make his way out and by the looks of it he is going to be heading in Doris direction.

At the same time as he takes off out of the ground I dart off in pursuit. With his attention at her once again I’ll be able to pull off another sneak attack but this time I won’t let up. Coming up on him I ball my fist getting ready for my moment to strike. I increase my speed to hurry and reach him before he can get into attack range of Doris. I close the gap between me and him a little to fast, it’s almost seems as if he has slowed down. Either way I can’t risk it I have to continue straight on ahead. Coming up on Adam I get ready to attack and that’s when I finally notice it. He has been looking at my out of the corner of his eye. He set me up.

Before I could even think about reacting Adam extends his arm and grabs me by the throat with his hand stopping me instantly in my tracks.

“You didn’t believe sneaking up on me work twice did you?” Black Adams questions as he tightens his grip.

“The…thought did…cross…my…mind.” I reply barely able to speak the words out as he stiffens his grasp.

I place both of my hands on his one trying to free my self but it has no affect. It’s almost as if my strength is not even on the same level as his.

“How dare you think you could defeat a God when you can’t even free yourself from my hold? You insolent fool how could you not notice my attack from before has reduce your strength? Before you may have been strong enough to maybe evade me but now you both can do nothing but die together.”

I didn’t want to believe it because I never thought I had a weakness, but he is right I should be able to get out of this but I can’t. Is the gap in our abilities this much? Am I really about to die?

“I shall not prolong your demise any longer.” Black Adam says right before he slams me toward the ground below us.

I hit the ground like a missile exploding right on impact. Before the debris could even settle Black Adam swoop through and landed on top of my stomach feet first causing me scream out loud as the pain began to register. He steps to the side getting off of me and goes to deliver a punch to my face but with what strength I have left I roll over to the side to avoid the attack.

I roll a good distance away before I stop and to get back to my feet. I look over at Adam and he is now just taking his hand out of the ground.

“How much longer do you believe you shall be able to dodge my attacks?”

“As long as I need to till I get..” Then before I could finish my sentence he had super sped in front of me within no time. He distracted me knowing I wouldn’t be able to focus on his moment, I’m such a fool.

Adam then hits me with a right hook to the gut that has so much power behind it that it feels like it destroyed everything in my stomach. He then fallows up by slamming both of his hand down on my shoulders. My leg give way and I begin to collapse. Before I could fall on the ground he catches me with both hands by my head.

“You should have never fought a being such as me. This will be a lesson you shall never forget during your entire time in the after life.”

He then lifts me up in the air.

“SHAZAM!!!” He shouts.

The clouds from above parts and a lightning bolts strikes down towards the Earth and makes direct contact with the top of me head.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” I cry out as a strong jolt of energy runs through my body feeling stronger than the attack from before.

I try to lift my hands up to reach for Adam’s but my body doesn’t seem to be responding to any command I wish for it to do.

“You are still alive? I’m some what impress a direct hit to the top of the head should have ended you as a result of the state you are in, so one more shall complete the task. SHAZAM!”

Another bolt of lightning strikes me once again. The pain was so dreadful no words escaped my mouth. Black Adam releases his hold and my body just drops to the ground as my vision fades to black.

“This isn’t over!” I yell as I get up from the ground.

As I look around I realize that Black Adam and Doris are not even around. I don’t even seem to be in the same place. I’m in a room completely covered in darkness. Also the pain from before is gone. I feel as if I haven’t even been in a fight.

“How did I get here?” I say hoping I would get a reply from someone. But my question went unanswered.

“Where am I?” I say as I tried once again.

I give it a moment but still no reply.

“You are at your final resting place.” A voice finally replies.

My resting place could this voice be telling me that… “Am I dead?”

“In order for that to happen you must first exist, which you truly don’t. For to long time you have been in a body making a mockery of me and my people. For to long time you have been in a body that you had no business controlling. You are not even worthy of standing in my shadow. So finally, I don’t know how and I don’t know why but I am able to reclaim what is rightfully mine.”

This makes no sense at all. This must be some form of magic, yeah that’s it this must be a trick. “I don’t know who you are but whatever you are doing isn’t going to work.”

Out of no where I feel a presents from behind so I quickly turn around and once I lay eye’s on who it is I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

“This can’t be, it’s you!”

“This is where your journey ends to never be traveled again. I shall never fall victim to you, I won’t allow myself to be that human.”

Right away I feel myself fading away into nothing. As bad as I try to hold on his will is just too strong. This time I know I will never be back.

“Know this, I didn’t just appear. Some where deep down I am what you always wanted to be but you didn’t know how. You have everything you need to be a great hero but you will never be one because you have one true weakness. You look down on humans and for that reason you will never be seen to them as a hero and we both know that’s what you really want deep down. Maybe one day you will change but I doubt it. Let’s see how far you will make it without me, Majestrate.”

 

[Saved]

Red Hood​

City Hall District, Jason Todd's Apartment

Sweat runs down Jason's back as he stares at his unexpected guest, his young prodigee and partner Batgirl. Jason's hand shakes and his eye twitches, his adrenaline still running high from moments before when he said goodbye to the first meaningful relationship he ever had. For the first time, Jason had found someone who was more than physical and fun - something much deeper. But his attachment to his idealogy and his respect for his promise to his parents and humanity has come between him and happiness once again, and it's a sacrafice he will always be willing to make.

"Hey boss," the young hero says with a smile. "Gotcha."

Jason wipes his forehead and lets out a heavy breath. He turns away and makes his way down the hallway toward his evidence room. Batgirl watches him from behind, gazing at his back as her mentor passes by without a single word. "HEY!" She exclaims, putting the Red Hood helmet down on the table before running after him. "Aren't you impressed? I figured out who you are with literally NOTHING to go off besides your voice!"

Jason looks over his shoulder to her, "You're the Commissioner's daughter. I knew you'd figure it out eventually." He pauses as he turns his head forward once more. "Though your timing couldn't have been worse," he says under his breath as he opens the locked door.

"Hey, how was I suppossed to know you'd be dumping your girlfriend?"
"She wasn't my girlfriend," he snaps. "This isn't High School."
"Fine, your 'girl of the week'."
He sighs, "It wasn't that either." Jason shakes his head as he flips on the light switch and steps inside, Barbara following him closely. "Look, now that you're here, we mind as well get to work."

"That's it?!" She shouts in surprise. "Someone just busts into your apartment and reveals your secret identity and you're not even surprised?"
"It wouldn't be the first time it's happened to me," he grins. The lights come on with a flicker, a loud humming resonating as the space is illuminated in a bright glow. Maps and newspaper clippings cover the walls, plastered together in a collage. Intricately, every piece of paper is connected by black lines and red string tacked in place, forming something akin to a web. Two laptops spring to life, their monitors revealing camera details and live feed of websites, news headlines, and surveillance. Barbara's eyes widen as she takes it all in - the overwhelming stimuli of the small lair catching her off guard.

"Wow," she says in a short breath. She grabs the cowl at her cheeks and pulls it down so it rests on her back, allowing her red hair to flow freely down her neck. "I figured you were paranoid ... but I never thought like THIS."

Jason places his hands behind his back, "You should see what the Bat has," he smirks. "I've been monitoring Gotham for sometime, keeping a close watch on everything I can. Traffic and security cameras all have a direct feed to my system. Only about 10% of Gotham is left out of my sight. Luckily, this outfit will soon be obsolete," he speaks, a devious grin coming over him. "But that's a story for another time." Before Barbara can question him, Jason walks toward one of the maps and continues his monologue.

"The escaped inmates from Arkham have been spotted at all of the locations I've marked with green pins. If you notice, they seem to be centralized around one location."
Barbara looks at the map and analyzes it carefully. She puts her hand to her chin and watches intently. "It looks like they're all located in Uptown and City Hall. Besides that, I don't see any patterns."
"What are those districts known for?" Jason asks as he turns his gaze to his young compatriot. Barbara turns her head to meet his glance.
"High crime rates?"
"And why is that?" He goads.
"They're weathly?"
"Exactly."
"So, what; are you saying these psychopaths are actual common criminals?"

"Not quite. So far, only one of them has been seen frequently; William Tockman. The richer districts have a lot of jewlry and accessory stores, this includes clocks."
"William Tockman ... isn't he the Clock King? The guy who dressed up in spandex with a clock for a face?"
"The one and the same. Tockman has a compulsion for time. His life is run by it - consumed by it. Every second has meaning to him, he sees patterns and links where there aren't any - and to him? It's all connected by the tick of a hand on a clock."
"So ... he steals clocks?" She says with a curious look. "What is this, a saturday morning kids cartoon?"

"It's deeper than you think; I treated him myself at Arkham. Despite what physicists say, Tockman is convinced that time can be quantified by humans. His obsession is finding a way to monitor time itself. He believes if time in its most raw self can be observed, it can be harnessed. Tockman thinks if he can find a way to measure and observe time, he'll gain power and enlightenment above mortal men."
"But, that's impossible. Time can't be harnessed."
"Barbara ... he's crazy."
"Hmmm, true. True."

"Tockman used to be a physicist himself until his obsession overtook him and drove him down this path of insanity. Now he steals clock components and highly advanced computer software in his attempt to create the ultimate 'clock' - a tool capable of harnessing time and predicting future time patterns that he can use to his advantage."
"Well, this is certainly a break from the typical madness we're forced to confront. Is he dangerous?"
"Only to anyone who gets in his way. At his core, he's simply a disturbed mind focued on selfish ambition with no care or regard for anyone he hurts along the way. He's certainly not Belseraph or Black Mask."
"Well that's a relief," she says eagerly. Barbara grabs the sides of her mask and once again covers her face with the familiar cowl of the Bat. "So, what're we waiting for? Let's catch ourselves a time bandit."

Jason chuckles, "Don't you have class in the morning, kid?"
"Please, you know me," she smiles. "I don't need sleep." Jason walks toward a dresser at the far end of the room. He opens the drawer and pulls out his familiar vigilante garb.
"I knew I chose you for a reason," he says proudly as he begins to change.

"Was it my spunky personality and supermodel face?"
"Actually," he begins, pulling the black leather jacket over his bullet proof vest. "It was your obsessive personality. I can relate."
Barbara goes quiet as she mulls over his statement, unsure of how to take it. "Thanks, boss," she says sarcastically. Jason simply smiles as he walks passed her and into the hallway. As he enters the kitchen, he picks up his helmet and pulls it over his head - completing the costume of the Red Hood.

"Come on, kid" he speaks as Barbara follows behind. "Let's roll."
"Is that your new catchphrase? Cause, seriously, that's not gonna fly."
"I'll come up with something better."
"Please do. I can't have your lame one liners bringing down my witty quips."

**** ​

Harley Quin rides in the back of a yellow cab on her way back to Arkham Island. Her demeanor outside is emotionless and silent, but inside her mind is a torrent of rage and hurt. Anger toward Jason for his secrets and lies, but rage toward herself for allowing him to affect her. He still thinks I can't handle it, she thinks, her thoughts stinging her like a swarm of bees. Even after everything, he thinks I'm just as gullable and stupid as everyone else.

The loud tune of her cellphone's ring startlers her for a moment. Quickly, she fumbles with her purse until she retrieves the device. She brings it to her cheek, "Hello," she says in greeting as she answers the call.
"Harley, it's Johnathan," the familiar voice speaks.
"Oh, hi there," she says with a forced voice.
"Are you alright?" He asks in a disconcerting voice. "You sound troubled."
"No, I'm fine," she says, Jason's face popping into the forefront of her mind. "Just ... fine," she says again.
"Are you sure?" He asks again, his sympathetic tone disturbing.
"Positive."
"Well, I was returning your phone call from before. Sorry it's so late, but I figured I'd leave a message. I didn't expect you to be awake."
"Oh, you know. Just dealing with the usual ... "
"I know you told me you needed someone to; someone to help you with your theories and treatments. I've been wrapped up with my work as Director, lately, but I've got some spare time tomorrow in the morning. Would you care to meet me for some coffee?"
Harley smiles and a sudden wave of release washes away her stressful feelings. "Yes, Jonathan. I'd love to."
"Wonderful. I'll meet you at seven?"
"Sounds great."
"Oh, and before I forget ... how's Doctor Todd doing these days? I so rarely see him at work."
"He hasn't changed at all," she says harshly. "Believe me, you're not missing a thing." Crane goes quiet as he picks up on the underlying tones of Harley's speech.
" ... interesting," he says with a lingering voice. "Well, in any event, I look forward to seeing you in the morning. Sleep well, Harley."
"You too, Director."
"Oh ... I will, Harley. I will ... "

 

[Saved]

Red Hood​

Tick Tock Part I

The Red Hood sits at the base of a gargoyle perched on the corner of a building. The vigilante’s feet hang over the edge of the concrete statute, his back forcibly pressed against the rock sculpture’s legs. The slightest movement could send the Red Hood falling stories to his demise, yet, he calmly rests in his position – diligently watching the streets below him through a pair of binoculars.

The sound of metal clanging against stone echoes through the expanse between the skyscrapers. Before long, Batgirl swings by on a steel cable, soaring past Jason with an effortless ease. A year ago, the same maneuver would have frightened her to her core, but now it has become second nature. Swinging from rooftop to rooftop has become the most therapeutic event of her nights these days. She lets go of the cable and moves into a flip, landing perfectly on the building ledge five feet above Jason’s position. “Just scouted the last four blocks,” she says, inhaling a long breath as she takes a moment to rest. “Nothing.”

“Interesting …” Jason muses as he keeps his eyes fixed on the grounds below. “Two hours and still not a trace.”
“Maybe they’re staying low?” She suggests.
“Unlikely,” he refutes. “It’s more probable they’re planning something.”
A curious expression comes over Batgirl’s face as she stares at her partner. “You really give these guys a lot of credit, you know that?”
“Never underestimate the criminal mind,” he teaches. “Especially ones that are so unstable.”
Batgirl opens her mouth to speak, but her words are obstructed by a shriek of terror from below.

The vigilantes’ eyes grow beneath their masks as their bodies trigger adrenaline instantaneously. Without wasting a moment, the Red Hood slips the binoculars into his jacket, “If you’ll excuse me,” he says as he leaps off the small ledge into the open air before him. Batgirl’s mouth drops as she watches the Red Hood disappear into the sky below as he descends to the streets. Just when she expects to hear a loud bang followed by the fatal groan of her partner, a different sound resounds. A small explosion like a gunshot, trailed closely behind by metal against metal. As she squints her eyes, she watches the Red Hood swing by into an alley below on a grappling line, disappearing behind a building’s wall.

“He’s … he’s crazy,” she says in shock. Barbara looks around her to see a fire escape at the edge of the rooftop. “Yeah, I’m gonna try the option that doesn’t flatten me out on the sidewalk.” Quickly, she rushes off down the metal scaffold as she runs to meet her partner on the city streets.

Meanwhile, in the alleyway underneath the skyscrapers, the Red Hood leaps back and forth from wall to wall, stalking his prey from above. He watches carefully as a man dressed in white clothes rushes by, panting audibly as he sprints. The fleeing suspect wears a brown jacket pulled over his Arkham Asylum attire with a baseball cap secured tightly over his bald head; a poor and haphazardly disguise.

Jason’s boots touchdown off the brick wall again, this time leaping forward and not to the side. He extends his arms before him, soaring through the air as he descends on the running man. Jason grabs the man by the shoulders of his clothes, dragging him forcefully to the ground. He quickly gains control of the situation, flipping the man over so the two of them stare face to face. Jason pins the man’s arms above his head, forcing his legs down by jabbing his knees into the meaty flesh just below the hip. “Where do you think YOU’RE going?” He growls. The man’s bloodshot eyes seem to throb, his sweaty skin almost twitching. Jason takes quick notice of the man’s mannerisms, realizing that something besides terror is at play. “ANSWER ME,” he snarls.

“S-Scare … scare!” The man stammers, his body beginning to convulse.
Jason’s patience wears thin, “Where’s Tockman?”
“Scare,” the man exclaims again. “Scare! SCARE!”

Jason grabs the man by the collar and shakes him violently. “I’ll ask one more time,” he begins with a threatening voice. “After that, I start breaking bones. Now … where’s your friend, huh? Where is William Tockman?”
“S-scare, heh heh heh,” the man says again, his voice turning to a terrified wheeze. As Jason reaches the edge of his patience, he moves to throw the man into the adjacent wall. As he grabs the jacket, he feels something strange. He opens the man’s coat to reveal a line of unmarked canisters all connected by a string at their tops. Jason looks up to stare into the man’s eyes once more, but as he looks into the inmate’s face, he sees a terrifying smile come over the man. “SCARECROW!”

Suddenly, the canisters open, and a spray of thick beige gas explodes in the Red Hood’s face. The ploom of smoke spreads fast, surrounding the two men in only seconds. Jason reaches under his helmet and flips on the respirator, allowing his mask to filter the air to keep him safe.
“HOOD!” He hears Batgirl shout from close by.
“GET BACK!” He commands aggressively. “STAY AWAY!”

Jason averts his attention back to the Arkham escapee beneath him. As Jason’s leg presses against the inmate’s, he feels the man’s pulse suddenly increase. The man’s body begins to twitch and convulse violently, frothy foam dripping out from his mouth. He stares into the Red Hood’s face and lets out a horrifying scream. “HELP ME,” he yells in terror. “It’s GOT ME!” He says, beginning to viciously thrash about, this time with considerably more strength. “GET ME OUT OF HERE! HELP ME! ANYBODY! Monster… Monster! MONSTER!”
“Calm down!” The Red Hood yells, trying to settle the raving man.

“NO! NO! MONSTER! MONSTER! KILL ME!” In a sudden shift, the man’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and his fighting instantly ceases just as quickly as it began. His body goes limp and before long, he lies completely still amidst the dissipating gas.

A few moments pass and the tan vapor disappears, leaving only Jason and the inmate in the alleyway. Batgirl rejoins the scene, leaping forward to the Red Hood’s side. “Oh my gosh,” she says in shock as she stares at the inmate. “What happened?”

Jason stays quiet for a minute, thoughtfully considering his words as he himself tries to rationalize the events from the last two minutes. “I don’t know,” he says finally. The vigilante rises to his feet, keeping his eyes fixed on the unconscious inmate, failing to even blink. “He said something to me … something right before the gas.” Jason brings his hand to the base of his helmet, stroking the smooth side of the crimson mask. “Scarecrow,” he speaks with a lingering breath.
“Scarecrow?” Barbara questions. “What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure,” Jason tells her, his own voice betraying him as his tone confirms the vigilante’s confusion. “But if it has anything to do with that gas … I have a feeling we’re in for a world of trouble.”

Jason reaches back down and examines the canisters once more. Reaching into his own jacket, he pulls out a knife and cuts a canister free from the line. He carefully stows the metal container away in his jacket as he rises back to a stand. “Call the paramedics and stay with him until they arrive,” Jason instructs his young ally. “Meet me back at my apartment afterward.” Jason brings his hand against his abdomen, feeling the canister sensitively through his clothing. “I have some work to do.”

As Jason beings walking toward the alleyway’s entrance, Batgirl calls out to him, “What about Tockman?”
“He can wait,” Jason says shockingly. “There might be bigger problems at hand.”

 

[MST3K 4ever]

I slowly begin to rise back to my feet. Black Adam’s last assault was a powerful one. It feels as if it left a burn mark on my back. Even though it caught me off guard I believe even if I knew it was coming and braced myself, it still would hurt just the same. Along with the pain it also seems as if took some strength out of me. If I didn’t know any better I would think I have a weakness to magic but I know that can’t be the case.

As I gather myself I scan the area to see how Doris is holding up. By the looks of the crater caused by her throwing Adam she seems to be quite well. Maybe her attack might have slowed him down a little bit. I should use my x-ray vision to see his condition. Right away I see he is about to make his way out and by the looks of it he is going to be heading in Doris direction.

At the same time as he takes off out of the ground I dart off in pursuit. With his attention at her once again I’ll be able to pull off another sneak attack but this time I won’t let up. Coming up on him I ball my fist getting ready for my moment to strike. I increase my speed to hurry and reach him before he can get into attack range of Doris. I close the gap between me and him a little to fast, it’s almost seems as if he has slowed down. Either way I can’t risk it I have to continue straight on ahead. Coming up on Adam I get ready to attack and that’s when I finally notice it. He has been looking at my out of the corner of his eye. He set me up.

Before I could even think about reacting Adam extends his arm and grabs me by the throat with his hand stopping me instantly in my tracks.

“You didn’t believe sneaking up on me work twice did you?” Black Adams questions as he tightens his grip.

“The…thought did…cross…my…mind.” I reply barely able to speak the words out as he stiffens his grasp.

I place both of my hands on his one trying to free my self but it has no affect. It’s almost as if my strength is not even on the same level as his.

“How dare you think you could defeat a God when you can’t even free yourself from my hold? You insolent fool how could you not notice my attack from before has reduce your strength? Before you may have been strong enough to maybe evade me but now you both can do nothing but die together.”

I didn’t want to believe it because I never thought I had a weakness, but he is right I should be able to get out of this but I can’t. Is the gap in our abilities this much? Am I really about to die?

“I shall not prolong your demise any longer.” Black Adam says right before he slams me toward the ground below us.

I hit the ground like a missile exploding right on impact. Before the debris could even settle Black Adam swoop through and landed on top of my stomach feet first causing me scream out loud as the pain began to register. He steps to the side getting off of me and goes to deliver a punch to my face but with what strength I have left I roll over to the side to avoid the attack.

I roll a good distance away before I stop and to get back to my feet. I look over at Adam and he is now just taking his hand out of the ground.

“How much longer do you believe you shall be able to dodge my attacks?”

“As long as I need to till I get..” Then before I could finish my sentence he had super sped in front of me within no time. He distracted me knowing I wouldn’t be able to focus on his moment, I’m such a fool.

Adam then hits me with a right hook to the gut that has so much power behind it that it feels like it destroyed everything in my stomach. He then fallows up by slamming both of his hand down on my shoulders. My leg give way and I begin to collapse. Before I could fall on the ground he catches me with both hands by my head.

“You should have never fought a being such as me. This will be a lesson you shall never forget during your entire time in the after life.”

He then lifts me up in the air.

“SHAZAM!!!” He shouts.

The clouds from above parts and a lightning bolts strikes down towards the Earth and makes direct contact with the top of me head.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” I cry out as a strong jolt of energy runs through my body feeling stronger than the attack from before.

I try to lift my hands up to reach for Adam’s but my body doesn’t seem to be responding to any command I wish for it to do.

“You are still alive? I’m some what impress a direct hit to the top of the head should have ended you as a result of the state you are in, so one more shall complete the task. SHAZAM!”

Another bolt of lightning strikes me once again. The pain was so dreadful no words escaped my mouth. Black Adam releases his hold and my body just drops to the ground as my vision fades to black.

“This isn’t over!” I yell as I get up from the ground.

As I look around I realize that Black Adam and Doris are not even around. I don’t even seem to be in the same place. I’m in a room completely covered in darkness. Also the pain from before is gone. I feel as if I haven’t even been in a fight.

“How did I get here?” I say hoping I would get a reply from someone. But my question went unanswered.

“Where am I?” I say as I tried once again.

I give it a moment but still no reply.

“You are at your final resting place.” A voice finally replies.

My resting place could this voice be telling me that… “Am I dead?”

“In order for that to happen you must first exist, which you truly don’t. For to long time you have been in a body making a mockery of me and my people. For to long time you have been in a body that you had no business controlling. You are not even worthy of standing in my shadow. So finally, I don’t know how and I don’t know why but I am able to reclaim what is rightfully mine.”

This makes no sense at all. This must be some form of magic, yeah that’s it this must be a trick. “I don’t know who you are but whatever you are doing isn’t going to work.”

Out of no where I feel a presents from behind so I quickly turn around and once I lay eye’s on who it is I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

“This can’t be, it’s you!”

“This is where your journey ends to never be traveled again. I shall never fall victim to you, I won’t allow myself to be that human.”

Right away I feel myself fading away into nothing. As bad as I try to hold on his will is just too strong. This time I know I will never be back.

“Know this, I didn’t just appear. Some where deep down I am what you always wanted to be but you didn’t know how. You have everything you need to be a great hero but you will never be one because you have one true weakness. You look down on humans and for that reason you will never be seen to them as a hero and we both know that’s what you really want deep down. Maybe one day you will change but I doubt it. Let’s see how far you will make it without me, Majestrate.”

Giganta see the bolt hit Majestic and he vanishes.

She quickly scans the area and sees that there is no trace of him anywhere.

Can't let the lose of Majestic deter me from my mission. I will...

Just then Adam nails Giganta in the jaw sending her staggering back. She slams into the side of a mountain and Adam says, "And you for destroying my chance to be with my love you shall suffer far worse than your associate!"

Giganta shakes her head trying to regain her focus and sees Adam hovering her holding a sizable boulder.

He says, "Your suffering begins now." He hurls it straight at her and Giganta smashes it with her right fist.

Adam looks somewhat taken a back as Giganta gets to her feet and regains her focus.

Giganta concentrates and grows another 20 feet to a staggering 70 feet tall.

She then looks at Adam and says, "You have no idea who are truly dealing with! If you are so concerned about Isis then allow me to be the one to send you to join her."

With that she grabs two mountain summits slams them into Adam over and over until they are a fine powder and he is struggling to maintain his focus to hover.

He raggedly says, "Is that all you got?"

Giganta then grabs him holds him between her fingers and presses until she feels a slight pop.

Adam lets out an ear-shattering, "AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Giganta says, "Now let's see what you can do with your spine shattered!"

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Rhiannon looks around and tries to make sense of her new reality.

This is not just insane this is making my Waller nightmare feel like a pleasant memory.

After a couple of hours have past Rhiannon stands up and focuses herself.

Okay enough of trying to think it's time to act. Well since I am at this size I must have my powers back so I'll just...

She tries to shift her weight and realizes that she is unable to float.

Okay then let's try this.

Rhiannon tries to return to normal size but is unable to grow back.

No this can be happening! I don't even have my powers!

She moves away from her clothes and stands over the edge of her bed.

That might be wall to wall carpet but at this size if I jump the impact will break every bone in my body.

Just then her mom enters her room and says, "Rhiannon are you all-right?"

Rhiannon begins to jump up and down waving her arms yellng as loud as she can over and over, "Mom! Down Here! MOM!"

Alice looks on her bed and she is stunned when she sees the clothes on the bed.

Alice says, "Oh No!"

Rhiannon is hopeful that her mom has seen her but she quickly realizes that her mom hasn't seen her as Alice goes over to the closet.

Alice is almost frantic and dailing in her cell phone.

She says, "Hello Ray. Rhiannon is gone....I don't know she kept having these delusions about shrinking and I brought her home to get some rest...I went to check on her and all I found on her bed was the clothes she had on earlier and her favorite outfit is gone and so is she...I'll call some of the local charities to come get her things...yes I'm sure this time she went too far! She is out of this house and our lives! You're right we should've disowned her years ago! I am done with her! She wants to be on her own so be it!...Okay I'll see you when you get home and we'll go from there concerning tonight....Love you too...bye."

Alice storms out of the room weeping and Rhiannon sits on her bed.

I can't believe it my parents think I left them and now they're disowning me. What have I done? I should've never been born all I've caused is misery and pain.

Rhiannon realizes that she is slowly getting smaller again.

At this rate I'll be nothing within an hour...maybe it's better that way.

Her mind begins to wonder to different times in her life. When she gets to the times she was The Atom she smiles and remembers the times she had with Pamela and taking down Waller. Just then she notices she is growing back ever so slightly.

If I focus in on those times...the times when I made a difference I begin to grow a little more,,,come on Rhiannon you can do it!

Rhiannon keeps thinking and eventually she is back to about an inch tall.

Okay time to reclaim my life. Whatever that may be I'm not going out like this. Time to show what I'm really made of.

She grabs her bed spread and begins to repel down the bed. Rhiannon reaches the floor and begins to make her way across the room.

This could take a while but I better get moving before the movers and my family start trampling through here and squash me.

 

[Saved]

(BATGIRL)​

I swing through the night air, this time with more ease than before. My hands have adapted to gripping the malleable steel cord through my gloves fairly well. My fear of slipping my grip and plummeting to my demise is dimisnishing with every night I come out here and tempt fate. I'm definently getting the knack of 'zipping' from building to building, now. That's what I call it; zipping - short for zip-lining. Look for it on metropolitan dictionary, it'll be there soon.​

As I head down the street, I find a series of buildings each approximately the same height and drop down. As my feet touch the surface, I roll out to distrubute the force of my fall. Rising back to a stand, I bundle up the cord and attach it to my belt. This is much more efficient (and safe) than the rope I'd been using previously. Gotta say, the Red Hood's 'presents' certainly come in handy. I'm just looking forward to the day he gives me one of his grapple guns. It'll save me the trouble of throwing this thing and hoping I caught the end on an edge somewhere.​

I move back into a run and make my way back toward Jason's apartment. It's strange, when he discovered my identity, I was freaking out. Even after he revealed he knew who I was, it took me a while to get used to him popping up everywhere I went. Then, when I finally figure out who he is and pop in on him, all he does is get right to crime fighting. Man, he is so hard to figure out. I may know his identity, but I certainly don't know what makes him tick.​

A few moments later, I find myself landing on the balcony to Jason's apartment. The route's easy enough, and his building's pretty memorable. I doubt I'll forget how to get here in the future. I walk through the open door and into his apartment, closing it behind me. "Jason?" I ask as I step through the den.​

"In here," he says, calling from the evidence room. I step down the hall and into the room to find him closely examining the canister from before. His helmet stares at me from the table, the empty shell of the only face I'd ever known of my boss until recently. "And by the way," Jason begins, his eyes still fixed on the microscope in front of him. "Don't call me 'Jason' unless you're in your civilian clothes or you're positive I'm alone."​

I smirk, "Well, I doubt I'll have to worry about that much, now that you dumped your girlfriend." He stays silent, allowing an awkward quiet to fill the air. "Um ... that was just a joke, RH," I say apologetically, pulling my cowl from my face.​

"Did the inmate make it to the paramedics alive?"
"Y-yeah," I say, still a bit uneasy. "He's in bad shape, but the paramedics said he'd be alright."
Jason looks up, staring back at me with a grin. "You spoke with them?"
"I figured you wanted me to be sure," I tell him plainly.
"What about your identity? I didn't want to say anything, but, your mask isn't the best disguise, kid. Those men work with your father - they'll recognize you. I did."
"You don't work with my father."
"Not that you know," he says secretively, turning back to his microscope. I chuckle for a moment under my breath - his mannerisms remind me of the science nerds at school. Somehow, I feel like Jason was a geek as a teenager. Puberty did a number on him, that's for sure ...​

"And, don't worry, I stayed in the shadows of the fire escape the whole time."
"Taking a que from our batty friend?"
"Perhaps," I smirk. "Wait, friend? You know him?"
"I may have worked with him in the past," he says cryptically, fiddling with the contraption as he types on the keyboard next to him without looking. I walk up next to him and lean my hip on the stable, folding my hands over my chest as I stare.
"You know, your 'man of mystery' thing is starting to piss me off, Mister Todd."
"Heh, funny. That's the second time someone's said that to me." Suddenly, he looks up from the microscope and takes in a deep breath as he leans back in his chair. "This cannister is from Arkham - it's the same container we keep the nitrous oxide in; only difference is this has been refilled and completely stripped of any industrial labeling."​

"From the asylum? Are you sure? Someone could've been picking trash to cover their tracks."
"I thought that, but, it just doesn't add up. Arkham is a self sustaining island. Jeremiah Arkham's father was a futurist and decided to make Arkham a self sustaining facility. For the most part, all of the asylum's garbage is recycled or incinerated for a source of fuel. That's how I recognized the cannister - the metal's filled with impurities. When these cannisters are sold to us, they're a much purer alloy of steel, tin, and vanadium. When they're smelted and remolded, other metal fragments enter into the mix."
"Wow. You know your cans," I say, somewhat trying to make a joke. He doesn't bite, so I keep talking. "What about the gas? Anything?"
"The cannister was empty - no real uncontaminated traces I could use." He reaches to the table and grabs a vial half filled with a tan liquid. "Luckily the filter in my mask collects traces of the air around me when the filter is activated. It condenses any vapor into a liquid by keeping these vials under tremendous pressure."​

I'm almost speechless by the time he finishes what I can only guess is him bragging, rather than explaining, the wiles of his helmet. "Where do you get all these wonderful toys?"
"Haha, I don't think I can tell you that secret just yet, kid. In time, though."
"When I'm 'older'?" I mock. "I've heard that before."
"Anyway, the gas is something I've never seen before. I'll spare you the chemical details and cut straight to the chase - it's designed to excite the amygdala and depress the rostral anterior cingulate cortex. In short, it increases the fear response while inhibiting the only area of the brain able to mitigate it."​

"So ... it's a gas of fear?"
"Precisely."
"Why would anyone want to create that? I mean, depression gas or some kind of inhalant that makes you pass out or become docile makes sense. But a fear gas? That'd just make you go wild - turn you into-"
"An uncontrollable nutcase," he cuts me off. I let it slide. "It's a 50/50 shot, completely hinging on the fear response of the individual who inhales it. Some people allow fear to paralyze them, others become blind with fury and panic."
"A bit unpredictable."
"VERY unpredictable."
"So, again, why would anyone want to make that? It seems like a waste of time and effort."
"To the average mind," he says, staring at the floor as he begins to ponder. "But to someone obsessed ... someone obsessed with the reaction it could generate ... it's very useful."
"And what makes you so sure of that?"
He looks up at me with an unsettling expression, "It's the first thing I thought about when I discovered what it instigates." A brief look of shock comes over me, but I quickly return a poker face to my disposition.​

"So ... if this gas initiates fear, and you believe it's from Arkham ... the next logical question is ... what on earth is going on over there?"
"Yes ... what indeed?" Jason stops himself from falling into deep thought once more and looks at his watch, then back up to me. "It's four o'clock. AM. You need to get home before anyone notices you're gone."
"And try to get some sleep?"
"That too. I mean, you've got a date with Terry at the Oceanview Bistro tomorrow." ​

"What the- how'd you- How did you know that?" I stammer, my voice a mixture of anger and shock.
"Your diary," he smiles. He leans back in the chair and pushes aside a map on the table next to him, pulling out a small book I recognize all too well. "Here," he says, handing it back to me. "You really need to work on your hiding spots. I mean, did you really think I wouldn't look there?"
I frown, "I hid it under a floorboard beneath my bed."
He laughs, "So?"
"How much of this have you read?" I grumble nervously, nearly blushing.
"Enough."​

He turns back to his computer and intently watches the screen as he examines the image of a molecule along with a long word document of his own writing next to it. "Get along, kid, and have fun tomorrow. We'll resume the hunt for Tockman at nightfall."
"And just what makes you think I'm still willing to work with you after this gross invasion of my privacy?"
"Psychology."​

A wave of anger overtakes me but I decide to hide it and keep my calm. I pull my mask back over my head and walk out of the room, not saying another word to him. As I make my way out the door, I notice his eyes never avert from the glowing screen before him - yet, the smirk on his face never left his lips.​

I walk into the den and through the two doors out onto his balcony. As I step onto the concrete surface, a strong rush of wind brushes past me, tossling my hair over my shoulders. I grip my diary in my hand tightly, and I let out a breath of stiff air exit my nose.​

"You're a mystery, Jason Todd; a shifty mix of noble hero and devious trickster. But I'm going to unravel you and discover your secrets. After all, I'm a legacy of a great detective. It's in my DNA."​

I look to the diary in my hand and instantly my attention shifts. "And I'm finding a new hiding spot for you," I whisper as I jump onto the railing and leap off into the open expanse before me. "Maybe I'll put it in a capsule and bury it in the harbor. ... Then again, if he knows Batman, he could know Superman for all I know." I smile, my anger toward Jason changing into admiration. "Freakin' vigilantes ..."​

​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary
Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana


"The trip to New York turned out alright?" Faraday asks as soon as I walk into his office.

"Yep. Vertigo, excuse me, I mean Count Vertigo is in his new cell. He's agreed to help out Task Force X in exchange for a reduced sentence and no extradition to Europe."

"Ah, so he gave you the whole count thing, did he?"

"Yeah, he did. What's the deal with that? I don't remember reading anything in his file about that."

"Well, it wouldn't be in his arrest report, but Vertigo's family is from Vlatava, a small country in Eastern Europe. His family was the country's monarchy, I think his great-great-grandfather was king at one time."

"Vlatava....I've never really heard of it, but it sounds familiar."

"Well, it hasn't existed since the Armistice was signed to end the First World War. The Western Allies butchered it and gave most of it to Yugoslavia while the rest became western Bulgaria.""That's where I remember it from, a history class I took at West Point on WW1. So Vertigo is a man without a country."

"The royal family set up shop in Monaco after war and kept appealing to the League of Nations to redraw Vlatava on the map. They kept ignoring them and time went on. After WW2, it was the UN's turn to ignore them. Vertigo's grandfather sunk most of the family's fortune into drumming up support for Vlatavaian recognition. By the time little Werner was born, the family was near bankrupt. They were kicked out of Monaco and he spent most of his life abroad with his parents. His dad kicked the bucket in '95, mom did the same two years later. A twenty year old who had been used to the finest things in life finds himself with no money and he's all alone in this world, so of course he turned to a life of crime."

"What about his equipment? That balance disruptor and those anti-grav boots aren't cheap."

"On that front, Colonel, even I am stumped. That kind of tech isn't in any of the government's R&D databases, nor is it being developed by any military contractors."

"Huh...well, were you able to pick up the other person you wanted to add?"

Faraday nods and smiles.

"Yep. You have to go see her, Flag, it's the damndest. Come on, follow me."

Faraday stands up and I follow him out of his office to the cells in the basement. Faraday stops at one cell and nods towards the small window in the door. I look through the pelxiglass window at a blond-haired girl who looks like she's about sixteen, sitting on her cot and reading a book.

"What did she do?"

"She destroyed a mosque in Coast City."

"That girl? The one I'm looking at?"

"Look at the book she's reading, Flag."

I arch my eyebrow as I catch sight of the book's title.

"Mein Kampf....."

"Yep. Her name's Amanda Brown aka Blitzkrieg, nineteen years old and a hardcore Neo-Nazi. Somewhere along the way, she hooked up with some guy called Albert Krieger. He experimented on her and gave her enhanced strength, speed, durability, and stamina. She's not on par with Superman, but she can kick a regular guy's ass. Couple that with a pair of gloves that shoot out waves of explosive energy, and she should be a good fit for the team."

"We'll see. Have you got the final draft of the briefing ready?"

"Printing it up right now. You assemble the rest of the squad, I'll have everything ready."

I nod at Faraday as he turns around and walks away.

 

[Spike_x1]

I was wrong about to Arkham. I thought that it was a nessecity in order to cure the mind of psychopathic tendencies, believing that anyone could be eventually cured of their mental illnesses and become restored to a deep, basic good that lies beneath the surface. But that's not what it is at all. It's a gateway for them - for all of them. A stepping stone between madness and the freedom to inflict further madness.

They'll release the likes of The Monk. Deadshot. Belsaraph. Killer Croc.

But someone like me - someone who wants to help - is someone that is held behind these walls, poisoned with medicines and delusions to made to forget who they are, or what their life was really like before this.

Thanks to them, I've finally realized what the real evil of Gotham is.

And exactly what I need to do to in order to protect her.

"I think that we've made a real breakthrough today, Mr. Wayne." With a warm smile, Dr. Hatheway collects the inkblot cards and lays them on the desk. Getting to her feet, she approaches her patient and gently lays her hand on his shoulder. "We had to be thorough, you understand. As you can see, the seemingly revolving doors of our mental health institutions are a real problem."

Looking out the window to where Bruce's attention had been focused during their session, the doctor could see another patient taking his leave of the asylum. He was a monster of a man in a mask, carrying a large arsenal of weapons on his person.

"Oh my, they'll let anyone walk the streets these days."

And only mere moments after leaving the gates of Arkham, the brute resumed his war against anything good, just like all the others before him.

"The world is one bloodbath after another because of people like that. Someone needs to teach these animals respect, and after our breakthrough, I think that you might be the one to do it, Bruce." With her words, the buckles on Wayne's straightjacket began unclipping themselves until the needless thing fell to the floor, revealing Bruce Wayne's true form underneath.

Pleased with the results of her patient coming to terms with what needed to be done, Doctor Hatheway moved to the desk and opened the top drawer to pull out the last piece of his therapy. Placing it on top of the desk, she smiled to him again.

"Take this and call me in the morning."