The New Ultimate DC RPG

[Catman_prb]

"The dirt I have is the only thing keeping me alive, right now."

Rub my temples. Christ, I need a drink.

"I have some rumor and hearsay on Gordon, but that's all. It's enough to cause some smoke, but not enough to burn down the whole ****ing house of cards he sits on. If Gordon finds out that I don't have ****, I'm a dead man. Right now, I'm working things out to get more information on the commissioner's dirty dealings..."

Selina. My mouth kissing the nape of her neck. Running my hands up through the warmth of her inner thigh.

"And finding out dirt on his family..."

Barbara Gordon. Sixteen year's of trouble packed into tight jeans. Captain Essen, on her knees face down in the commissioner's crotch.

"I'm also playing an angle on the Holiday killings."

Sage. Puppet to my pupper master. Julian Day a possible key.

"I don't see what you have to offer me. From where I stand, you can't give me anything I already don't have or can't get on my own."

Shoot a look at Bennet.

"You aren't looking hard enough Nygma. I've already done this once before. I mean, I was ready to go with this and everything, before I got kicked off the force,"

Bennet leant back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face.

"I've got hard evidence on Gordon, enough to put him away for life. I've got a man on the inside of the department that hates your guts. And most importantly I've got a back up plan for when yours inevitably goes **** up. None of which I'm going to tell you until I'm sure you're on my side. It would be idiotic to turn your back on an opportunity like this Nygma, and you know it,"

 

[Byrd Man]

"You aren't looking hard enough Nygma. I've already done this once before. I mean, I was ready to go with this and everything, before I got kicked off the force,"

Bennet leant back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face.

"I've got hard evidence on Gordon, enough to put him away for life. I've got a man on the inside of the department that hates your guts. And most importantly I've got a back up plan for when yours inevitably goes **** up. None of which I'm going to tell you until I'm sure you're on my side. It would be idiotic to turn your back on an opportunity like this Nygma, and you know it,"

Odds my plan goes up in flames: 2/1

"I call bull**** on your 'plan'. What's more, if I can tie Holiday to Gordon like I think I can, it's all over for you and your inside man, whoever it may be. Now, I'm offering you a chance to cooperate on the grounds that you tell me what you've got right now. You want to play coy and try to get me under your thumb, then I say **** you and take what I have to the FBI. That includes the dirt on the GCPD: Gordon, Flass, Eseen, and White Christmas. I also have the links to Holiday, as well as enough counts to send Sal Maroni to death row. I've got enough allies and enemies to fill up a ****ing airliner. What's two more ex-cops that hate my guts? So, if you want to play ball, let's play ball. But don't think for a second this makes us friends or buddies. This is business, pure and simple."

Odds my plan goes up in flames: Even.

 

[Byrd Man]

​

It takes me a few hours to get everything I need to know about Julian Day. Since being paroled this past fall, Day has been quiet and boring. His parole officer reports he continues to visit him on the scheduled days, and the manager at the pizza place Day works out says the guy does his job and doesn't cause any trouble.

Only thing leaps out at me. He was due to work on Christmas Day, but the manager said he called in sick. Only day he's called in sick since he started working. Tracing back his work schedule, the guy was off on Thanksgiving and New Year's. Suspicious, yeah. But nothing to get a warrant for...yet.

"Hey, Vic," Cris asks from his desk.

"Stan, Ray, and I are headed to Mickey's down the street. Gonna grab a drink, you up for it?"

"Naah. I'm going to look over ths paperwork one more time, see if anything leaps out at me."

Cris' shaved head leans in from the side and looks at me.

"You've been here going on twenty hours, man. Tomorrow is your off day, but I'll bet you ten that you'll be back here tomorrow, going back over the case."

"You saying something's wrong with me?"

"You're an addict, man," he says with a shake of his head.

"And here I thought all cops were alcoholics."

"Funny. But no, you're addicted to this case."

"Shouldn't I be? This ****er is killing people. It's my job to catch him."

"I just think you're pissed you can't solve it."

"Bull****."

"Bulltrue. You've been in Homicide, what, five years? In that time you've had a clearance rate of somewhere around 90%. You're good. Damn good."

"Thank you, Cris. But I like women."

"What I'm trying to say is, even the good ones can't win them all. We'll catch this guy, I'm sure of it. But it ain't worth having one of our best detectives burn out."

I nod my head slowly. He's right. Since New Year's, I've been so deep into the caseI haven't even spent a night as The Question. I scratch at my cast covered arm and sigh.

"**** it. Let's grab a drink."

"I'm buying."

"Oh, I know that."

Cris laughs and goes back to his desk. Holiday can wait another day, Julian Day isn't going anywhere. With a week left until Valentine's Day, all I can do right now is wait.​

 

[Byrd Man]

From: Ralph​

Do it.​

Callback #:
7068284220​

Received:
Mon, Feb 8 3:27 p.m. ​

To: Ralph​

Busy.​

Sent:
Mon, Feb 8 3:27 p.m.
Delivered:
Mon, Feb 8 3:28 p.m.​

From: Ralph​

Wimp.​

Callback #:
7068284220​

Received:
Mon, Feb 8 3:30 p.m.​

To: Ralph​

Not getting fired.​

Sent:
Mon, Feb 8 3:31 p.m.
Delivered:
Mon, Feb 8 3:31 p.m.​

From: Ralph​

Dad is cop LT.​

Callback #:
7068284220​

Received:
Mon, Feb 8 3:33 p.m.​

To: Ralph​

Still can fire me​

Sent:
Mon, Feb 8 3:35 p.m.
Delivered:
Mon, Feb 8 3:36 p.m.​

From: Ralph​

Chicken​

Callback #:
7068284220​

Received:
Mon, Feb 8 3:37 p.m.​

To: Ralph​

F U. Ill do it to shut u up.​

Sent:
Mon, Feb 8 3:37 p.m.
Delivered:
Mon, Feb 8 3:38 p.m.​

*******​

Tossing my cell phone on to the desk, I look around to make sure there aren't any prying eyes. Then, using the speed that only comes from getting hit by a bolt of lightning, I disappear for a second and then appear back at the front desk with a folder in my hand.​

Inside the folder is the information on the hit and run Ralph and I saw the other night. The victim's name was Cylde Mardon, a scientist who worked at the BWO in Keystone City.​

Broome Weather Observatory, or BWO, is one of the midwest's most advanced weather research stations in America. They take all the data from Tornado Alley and all the hurricanes and study it. They employ close to a thousand gifted scientists and workers, their facility is the length of five football fields and the walls are painted lime green.....I went on a field trip there in the tenth grade, so sue me.​

According to the case file in my hands, Dad and Jay are in the process of checking out Mardon's work at BWO. Checking to make sure I'm by myself again, I disappear and reappear thirty seconds later with copies of the sheets found in the homicide file. Ralph's idea.​

I pick up my cell phone and dial Ralph's number.​

"Go for Dibny!"​

"I got that stuff you wanted. I hope you're happy."​

"I'm pleased. I'm joyous. I swear, if I were gay like you, I'd polish your knob."​

"Nice image I got in my head, now. What do you want to do with this stuff?"​

"Bring it by my house when you get off work."​

"For what purpose? Just being nosy?"​

"To an extent....Bart, my boy, we're going to solve us a murder."​

 

[Catman_prb]

Odds my plan goes up in flames: 2/1

"I call bull**** on your 'plan'. What's more, if I can tie Holiday to Gordon like I think I can, it's all over for you and your inside man, whoever it may be. Now, I'm offering you a chance to cooperate on the grounds that you tell me what you've got right now. You want to play coy and try to get me under your thumb, then I say **** you and take what I have to the FBI. That includes the dirt on the GCPD: Gordon, Flass, Eseen, and White Christmas. I also have the links to Holiday, as well as enough counts to send Sal Maroni to death row. I've got enough allies and enemies to fill up a ****ing airliner. What's two more ex-cops that hate my guts? So, if you want to play ball, let's play ball. But don't think for a second this makes us friends or buddies. This is business, pure and simple."

Odds my plan goes up in flames: Even.

"I've got evidence of what may've been the first murder Gordon ever commited. Oliver Hammet, Gordon's first partner. Romy Chandler's my man on the inside. She can find out pretty much whatever else we need to know," Bennet said, offering Nygma the bottle of scotch he had on the table.

 

[Byrd Man]

"I've got evidence of what may've been the first murder Gordon ever commited. Oliver Hammet, Gordon's first partner. Romy Chandler's my man on the inside. She can find out pretty much whatever else we need to know," Bennet said, offering Nygma the bottle of scotch he had on the table.

"Romy Chandler."

Nice ass. Can't touch Selina with a ten-foot pole.....or Barbara.

"Oliver Hammet....."

Take the bottle in my hands. Quarter of it's gone in one gulp.

"We need to hold this right now. Slam, Bennet. I know this is something big to sit on....but if I can be allowed more time to work my my guy on the Holiday case, this'll be one more nail in Gordon's goddamn coffin. Then we go to the press and the FBI. Gordon, Flass, Essen, even Falcone, Maroni, and Grissom all go down. We'll send this house of cards tumbling over their head..." And I won't have to worry about my life or Selina's.

"All I'm asking for right now is more time."

Another swig of Scotch.

"Also, if possible...could I see what exactly you have on the commissioner?"

Selina, Sage....Batman...now Bradley and Bennet. List of allies keeps growing and growing.

 

[Batman]

The telepathic attack came again, this time harder than before. It felt like somebody was taking a hammer and smashing it into Batman's brain.

"Now then...where were we?"

But then a familiar sound cut through the chilly Gotham night. A sound that made the Joker pause his advance, albeit briefly. The sound of sirens. And they were getting closer...

Batman's vision began to blur, as he visibly snapped himself out of the trance of pain that the clown had put him through. He still wasn't sure what had been used to attack him - it could have been anything from a variety of sonic emitters designed to pulsate through the brain, to some sort of chemical irritant. But it was becoming clear that whatever it was, it was deliberate... and lethal. The Joker wasn't just the common thug that the vigilante had believed him to be, and he was being given every opportunity to prove that. He had been more than prepared for this confrontation, which was more than anyone could say about Batman. Could've planned this better if I tried...

As his ears buzzed, The Dark Knight silently began to weigh out his immediate options. A tactical assault wasn't in play anymore, and there were no battleground strategies to be made, so any attempt at a continued physical assault was foolish - no matter how badly he wanted to hurt the clown. It wasn't until Batman's ears stopped bleeding that he noticed the pause in The Joker's step, and the coming sirens from afar. Somewhere along the line, the clown must've tipped off the police about his invasion of the main tent. The vigilante narrowed his eyes - because any other day, he knew he could handle Gordon's hired guns.

But this wasn't any other day. Today, he had already failed because he was unprepared. Because of it, he had suffered at least three broken ribs, a possible concussion, a busted lip and a partially fractured wrist, not to mention any possible damage to his brain that The Joker's mysterious attack had inflicted. There was no sense in trying to make it any worse on himself. For lack of the better word, he was beaten.

But only for now.

"Maybe another time."

As The Joker only grinned widely and lunged, Batman extended his arm and shot out a cord from his gauntlet. The line wrapped itself around a nearby glass bottle from one of the carnival stand's, and tethered, prompting Batman to pull it back and swing it hard towards The Joker's temple. The clown reeled back as his forehead was sliced open by the impact of the glass, sending him back onto the ground and flat on his spine.

The Dark Knight momentarily looked towards the glow of blue and red police lights, hatefully giving them a glare. One day soon, he wouldn't need to run... but only when he could challenge them on his own terms. And after tonight, it was obvious that he needed alot more practice for that day to become a reality. And so he retreated, narrowly avoiding being spotted by the first patrol car's headlights.

By the time the Joker would manage to look up, Batman was already gone, making his way into the city's darkest corners and disappearing into the fading night. As if he had never been there at all.

 

[Byrd Man]

Valentine's Day

Love was in the air.

Even in the urban hell hole that is Gotham City, love manages to live on.

Pino Maroni is a living testament to that. Although he had so much to worry about. His brother Umberto had been missing for almost four months, his father slowly starting to crack under the assault that the Chinese Triads had put up on his Chinatown operation.

Pino thought that the old man was slipping. In the absence of the favorite son, it was Pino's time to shine.

But none of that mattered right now.

"Ohh..."

Right now was the time for love.

The two call-girls he had picked up worked for his father. Cheri and Sherry cost close to a four hundred dollars an hour, but Pino was getting them on the house. You could call it a family discout, but Pino called them a Valentine's Day present to himself. A loving tribute to the beauty that was himself.

The three of them were working up a sweat, wriggling on his apartment floor in a fleshy mass.

The three were so consumed with carnal desires, the hooded figure slipped quietly into the apartment and hoisted the weapon from its shoulder sling.

"What the-," Pino called out as he looked up from the woman's crotch.

In an instant, Maroni was slung back against the wall. The crossbow bolt pierced his heart and reduced the mob prince to a spasming piece of meat.

Holiday turned to the two hookers, killing them with crossbow bolts to the chest before either could scream.

The hooded figure slung the crossbow back over a shoulder. Silently backing out of the room, Holiday placed a heart shaped box of chocolates on the floor.

It was Valentine's Day, a day of love and passion. Holiday didn't think about love or passion, all his love had died that cold day in January. The killer only felt cold rage when he thought about what he had lost all those years ago.

Quietly gliding down the apartment stairs, Holiday crossed another name off the list.

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Another holiday, another victim.

The flash bulbs of the CSI cameras erupt through the penthouse, casting the three victims in a ghoulish light.

"Pino Maroni," Sergeant Merkel says. "The two women are unidentified, but we believe they're call girls."

I lean over Maroni's body and stare at the crossbow bolt stuck in his chest.

"Say what you will about Holiday, but the guy does have a sense of humor....ironic it may be."

O'Hara was killed with a carving knife on Thanksgiving. Chuckie Sol was strangled by Christmas lights in the early hours of December 15th. Hamilton Hill was poisoned with arsenic laced champagne. Pino Maroni, one of Gotham's mob princes, shot in the heart with a crossbow. It's almost funny. Almost.

"Oh my God."

Everyone turns and looks. Sal Maroni himself walks under the crime scene tape.

"Not Pino..."

I catch a uniformed officer's eye and point towards Maroni.

"Mister Maroni, sir," the uniformed officer says as he puts his hands on the mob boss.

"It might not be the best time to-"

"Look how they massacred my boy!"

Maroni shoves away from the officer and turns away, rushing out of the apartment with tears startng to form in his eyes.

"The man may be human scum....his son, too. But nobody wants to see their kid like this."

"You got all you need here, Vic," Stan asks.

"Yeah. Make sure Corrigan gets his crime scene report to me ASAP."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to run down a potential lead."

I feel like kicking myself as I go down the apartment steps. If I had of kept closer to Day, then maybe I could have kept this from happening. Tonight, Day gets a visit from a certain man without a face.​

 

[Catman_prb]

"Romy Chandler."

Nice ass. Can't touch Selina with a ten-foot pole.....or Barbara.

"Oliver Hammet....."

Take the bottle in my hands. Quarter of it's gone in one gulp.

"We need to hold this right now. Slam, Bennet. I know this is something big to sit on....but if I can be allowed more time to work my my guy on the Holiday case, this'll be one more nail in Gordon's goddamn coffin. Then we go to the press and the FBI. Gordon, Flass, Essen, even Falcone, Maroni, and Grissom all go down. We'll send this house of cards tumbling over their head..." And I won't have to worry about my life or Selina's.

"All I'm asking for right now is more time."

Another swig of Scotch.

"Also, if possible...could I see what exactly you have on the commissioner?"

Selina, Sage....Batman...now Bradley and Bennet. List of allies keeps growing and growing.

"This is the file," Bennet said, gesturing to the manilla folder on the desk.

"Hammet found out that Gordon was on the take, was going to go to IF. So Gordon shot him on the bridge and dumped him in the river. It's a compelling story," Ethan said, taking a sip of his drink.

"You can have this copy if you want. There are others,"

 

[Byrd Man]

"This is the file," Bennet said, gesturing to the manilla folder on the desk.

"Hammet found out that Gordon was on the take, was going to go to IF. So Gordon shot him on the bridge and dumped him in the river. It's a compelling story," Ethan said, taking a sip of his drink.

"You can have this copy if you want. There are others,"

Gripping the file in my hands.

"Give me some time to look over it. I'll contact you or Slam when we have updates on Holiday or a killing."

Vibrating on my hip. Text on my phone.

"Oh, no...someone else is dead."

"Holiday?"

"He killed Sal Maroni's son."

No goodbye, out the door with the file in my hand. Thoughts slowly turning towards Selina. Both Maroni boys dead. Pino killed by Holiday, Umberto by Selina's hand.

She's in danger. Time to get in contact with my masked friend.

 

[Byrd Man]

​

After nine straight hours, Julian Day finally ventures out of his apartment. He could be gone for twelve hours, or five minutes. I take a chance and come crashing through his door.

Time to get to work.

I move quickly and quietly, checking for any kind of evidence in Day's living room and kitchen. Nada, zilch, zippo. Nothing in Day's bedroom, but something very interesting in the room across the hallway.

"Holy Mother of God..."

Article after article, newspaper clipping after clipping...guess what they're about? Yep, they're not about the current state of the economy. Holiday. Every single scrap of paper is about Holiday and the killer's acitivites.

Nygma was right...I've found Holiday.

Now, I just got to prove it to the rest of the GCPD.​

 

[Spike_x1]

The Luthor Museum of Civilization. What a big place, even for a museum. Despite being grouped in with the rest of Metropolis' infamous buildings with highly futuristic architecture, this place is ahead of its time all by its own merits. They make good use out of anti-gravity pads for a number of their displays, and I have to wonder how much some of these things cost. I don't doubt that it was negligible pocket change for someone like Lex, but I have to admit that I'm impressed all the same.

According to their catelogues, there is a stone tablet here with origins that trace back to an unknown ancient Scottish clan. We weren't able to confirm whether or not the clan in question was the McDougal Clan, but it was enough of a lead to attract the attention of myself and Lois. Also the Metropolis Police, apparently. I can see several officers in the museum lobby talking to a security guard.

Alright, so at least they're on the lookout for the McDougals.

"Mr. Kent! Ms. Lane!" A voice echoes out from across the large room. "Over here!" Looking over, we see a man in a suit and tie waving to us by the entrance into the Middle Ages section. "So pleased to meet you two. I'm Doctor Milton Fine," he says as Lois and I approach. He guides us both into the section of the museum as he continues explaining the situation.

"Naturally, after we'd heard what those terrorists were after when they attacked other locations, we alerted the authorities and beefed up our security, as you can see." We finally come to a pedestal and Dr. Fine pushes a button on it, which calls one of the hovering displays down to us. On the small anti-gravity pad is a block of stone about the size of a laptop. I quickly give scan it as it's descending, and find nothing out of the ordinary with it. It's just a rock with writing on it that I can't read.

As the tablet resting on the hover pad comes to a stop afloat in front of us, Dr. Fine pulls a remote control out of his pocket and deactivates the security field around the tablet. He then puts on a pair of latex gloves and gently picks up the stone. "It took us a while to study it and make certain of its nature, but we believe that this is the final tablet that the McDougals are searching for."

"Why haven't you put it in the museum's vault until this mess with the terrorists is over?" asks Lois.

"That was actually our number one priority for today," replied Fine with a sigh. "Until the magnetic seal of our vault went offline an hour ago. We're trying to fix it as soon as possible, but for the time being, I'm afraid the tablet is safest within sight of the police and our security staff until the vault is restored. At least then we can keep an eye on it."

As Lois is jotting down notes, I can't help but worry that the malfunction with the vault is more than simple mechanical failure. What if one of the terrorists hacked into the museum's systems and shut down the vault?

As I'm thinking this, a strange smell hits my nose and I look around to see people in the room dropping like flies. "What the--?" Knockout gas? Microscopic vision confirms that suspicion as I analyze the air near the vents. "Just great."

"Siobhan! Hurry up! We don't have all day!" A group of nine crudely dressed criminals run through the museum, followed by one more smaller thief. All of them were wearing gas masks and gloves, while two of them were pressing a series of buttons on wristbands they were wearing. I could tell that the devices were sending out some sort of signal that was knocking out the security cameras, although I can see several other recording systems in the museum that are still active. Naturally, since Lex Luthor owns this building. He's not going to rely on simple security cameras alone. With the proper application of superspeed, however, I don't have to worry about the infrared sensors or the laser imaging scanners as I avoid their detection and change into my uniform.

The smaller member of the McDougals who is straggling behind the other terrorists is a young woman, probably not even twenty years old yet. I'm guessing that she's the one named Siobhan. The way that the others are urging her to hurry up seems more like it's a case of life or death urgency, rather than simply wanting to get in and out as quickly as possible. Strange. As long as nobody is getting in their way, the McDougals don't seem to hurt anyone, so I'll just watch for the moment, until I figure out exactly what they're up to.

The one that I assume is their leader pushes Dr. Fine's unconscious body out of the way and grabs the stone tablet. With a gruff impatience in the way that he moves, he motions young Siobhan to approach him. "As much as it sickens me, you are the chosen one, sister," says the leader in a thick Scottish accent as the last traces of the knockout gas fade and all of them remove their gas masks.

[BLACKOUT]"Kevin, I'm scared. What if we were wrong?"[/BLACKOUT] Siobhan and Kevin McDougal. I have to remember to look up those names. The girl looks so nervous, and her and Kevin's hair is strikingly white. Must be some sort of family trait. [BLACKOUT]"We should wait and confirm our suspicions before--"[/BLACKOUT]

"Shut up. We're not going to wait one more damn second. We're doing it here and now!" screams Siobhan's older brother. Angrily, Kevin grabs his sister's hand and slaps it down onto the stone tablet. That's when I know that I should have done more than simply observe until now. The area instantly goes cold and sounds seem to have been muted around the entire museum. I seem to be moving almost in slow motion as I fly towards the terrorists, and I already know that I'm too late to stop whatever it is that Kevin and Siobhan have set in motion. The tablet in Siobhan's hand dissolves into the form of a small black and white stone, which begins floating in the air under its own mysterious power and buzzing with a sound that I've never heard the likes of before.

When the haze in my eyes finally fades after what seems like forever, I look up to see that I'm not the only one who was thrown for a loop by whatever just happened. All of the McDougals were taken aback as well. All of them except for Siobhan, that is. The young woman is kneeling down as smoke trails off of her body, and I can immediately tell that she has gone through a horrific change.

Instantly back on my feet, I step to the girl and grab her arm. "Enough of this. I'm taking you and your friends to the SCU, where you will explain what in the world you're all doing."

With something that almost sounds like quiet laughter, Siobhan McDougal stand up and turns to face me. [BLACKOUT]"No."[/BLACKOUT]

 

[Andy C.]

For the last five minutes, Fawcett City has resounded with the thunderous sounds of battle. Craters pockmark the asphalt of its streets. Huge swaths have been sheared from the sides of buildings, brick and steel and glass raining down to the pavement below. Terrified civilians run for their lives, dive for cover, or huddle together helplessly amidst the chaos.

I am fighting for the lives of every single person in this city. The damage being done, however, shows that I am not doing a good enough job.

The levitating witch who hurls bolts of arcane energy at me calls herself 'Dark Angel,' an admittedly powerful sorceress who had first tried to get my attention by granting superhuman powers to a militant lunatic named 'Captain Nazi.' The Nazi lays unconscious and beaten some blocks back, unable to continue the fight. His master, on the other hand, seems to just be getting warmed up.

"Surely you don't expect to be able to stop us, Wonder Woman," Dark Angel gloats. "Our reach is far, our power vast...and our goal, inevitable."

"So you are with Kobra after all," I say, deflecting her magical blasts with my Gauntlets. "You truly believe in this mad prophecy of cataclysm, that somehow the destruction of the world is for the best?"

"It is the way of the world: the old swept away by the new, life sustained by death. That is the truth that your gods wish to deny, the future they wish to prevent. But the order of things dictates that the world be purged! The old world shall die, and when the new one arrives, it will bring with it new gods to throw down those that gave you life."

The insane wizardess throws her hands up in the air, calling forth a more powerful spell with which to attack me.

"Your death will serve as a testament to the power of the coming new world!"

With that, a tremendous bolt of lightning comes crashing down from the sky, arcing straight through my body, and sending me tumbling down to the streets below.

"In a time past, you could have been a savior, an angel even. But the only angels in the world to come are the ones who have filled their hearts with darkness, like me."

She lets loose another thunderbolt, pinning me down.

"Out with the old, in with the new. It's simply the way of the world."

As the sky darkens and crackles, Dark Angel prepares for an even larger lightning strike, one meant to be a killing blow. I look up into the black storm clouds, and I grin.

"For someone who claims to know so much about the way of the world," I say, picking myself up, "You seem to have forgotten two very important things."

The lightning comes down, and this time, the Gauntlets are there to deflect it.

"The determination of all life to cling to existence..."

Dark Angel begins to falter, the bulk of her mystic power having been spent with her last attack. I smirk as I prepare my counterattack.

"...and then, of course, the survival of the fittest."

The witch practically shrivels as I fly upwards towards her, her magical defenses utterly depleted....

...a single punch later, the fight is over.

 

[Batman]

Even from the passenger's seat of the lone squad car, Sergeant Merkel could tell that Detective Arnold Flass had been grinning from ear to ear for the past few minutes. And he had a good idea why. For several months at a time, Flass had been hoping to get his hands on the chance that was presenting itself now, but it had never panned out to his expectations. There were several close calls and more than a few credible sightings all over Gotham, but by the time Flass or one of his boys would hit the scene, the bastard would have made it out of the area without so much as a trail for forensics to follow. It was becoming a regular story around the GCPD's watercooler crowd, shared by almost every beat cop and rookie that was working the city's shadier areas. And even so, no one was even close to nabbing that million dollar reward for the capture of The Batman.

Until tonight. Minutes ago, Flass had been the first one to be tipped off about an anonymous phone call coming from the Gotham fairgrounds. From the way it sounded, it seemed that the vigilante was also trying his hand at burglary - he had been caught in the midst of fleeing private property while possessing stolen goods. But tonight, he hadn't gotten as lucky as he usually was... some of the circus regulars apparently cornered him and gave him a serious beating. And the last known Batman sighting had him limping away from the scene in question, bleeding profusely and mumbling to himself as the circus' owner taunted him.

It was almost too perfect, in Flass' mind. A typical criminal behavioral type at work - the guy gets too good at what he does, gets cocky with it, and eventually messes up. And now he was more or less ripe for the picking, ready for whatever Flass and Merkel had in mind for him. Infact, the detective had been imagining a few scenarios for the last few blocks. There was no arresting this guy, so that was already out of the question. He'd been meddling in city affairs for too long, so obviously he needed to be put down hard. Maybe another beating? Tasers? A good dozen gunshots to the chest, at close range? It all sounded too good for the freak. Flass smirked as he turned the wheel, picturing the weakened carcass of the vigilante spurred out on the ground infront of him. Gordon would give him a promotion... hell, the Mayor of Gotham would give him a medal.

Merkel held tightly onto his seatbelt. "Jesus, Detective! Slow the hell down! Your driving's gonna kill us before we can get there!"

Flass wasn't even paying attention to his partner, much less the road. All he could see was that pointy-eared nuisance's battered and bloodied corpse.

"Three years, this guy's been causing us trouble. Three freaking years. And it's all gonna end tonight."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure Gordon's gonna want first crack at him."

"Screw Gordon! His cape is mine, you hear me? Mine! Ain't no one gonna tell me any different."

Merkel tried not to look as Flass narrowly avoided running over a teenager crossing the street. By the time he looked back up, they were already three blocks further. "Yeah, I hear ya. The Bat's been making it hard for all of us since he managed to put Falcone away."

"This isn't about Falcone. Or Zucco, or any of the other guys he's been kicking in the balls. It's about the people."

Merkel chuckled. "Gee, Flass. That's awful sweet of ya."

Flass shot him a glare.

"That ain't what I meant, you prick. No, The Bat's done alot worse for us than busting up a few drug rackets. He's actually beginning to make people think they don't have to be afraid of us."

As the squad car crossed onto the Morrison Bridge, Flass didn't try to hide the disdain in his voice as he spoke about the vigilante's actions, or the people that had rallied behind him. "People in this city, they used to look at us like we were Gods. And we were, too. We had the run of everything when it came to the profits and the spoils. A wise man once told me that cops got it made in Gotham, and that used to be true. We weren't just cops anymore, we were goddamn kings."

"Yeah? Well what happened to that?"

Flass sneered. "He happened."

Merkel looked back as several cars and their owners were now parked to the side, forced to the side for Flass' speeding sedan. But rather than resume their place in the traffic line, most of them had gotten out of their vehicles, waving fists or cursing towards the two cops with nothing short of venom. Suddenly, Flass' words were beginning to take life.

"Ever since that freak first showed them that they didn't have to jump whenever we told them to, everyone started growing a backbone. It was nothing at first... nothing we couldn't handle. If someone happened to shoot down a demand for protection money, we'd shoot them in the foot so that they gave it to us. But then the usual suspects started rallying up protesters. Priests and pimps shoved bribes back in our faces. Prostitutes quit on us. Even the gangs started cutting us out. We weren't top dog anymore, and it was all because one guy... one freakin' guy stood up to us."

"Damn. I never noticed."

"You see what I mean? We're not taking care of some simple problem, here. We're performing a civil service. As soon as I get my hands on The Bat, I'm gonna rip him to shreds, and enjoy every goddamn second of it. Then maybe things'll finally go back to normal for us."

Flass looked at Merkel, dead serious. "Cops got it made in Gotham. Never forget that for a second."

As soon as Merkel looked back at the road, his eyes widened as he saw something in the distance. Something was coming towards them, and fast. Probably faster than anything he had ever seen. At first he thought it was the weed that he and the Detective had smoked before their shift. But the closer it came, the more he realized that he wasn't imagining things - something really was gunning straight for them.

"FLASS! FLASS, LOOK OUT! LOOK AT THE ROAD!"

Flass turned, and immediately gasped, hitting the brake and turning the wheel as fast as he possibly could. The vehicle that had been coming for them sped past with a mechanical growl that had sounded unearthly. The detective's sedan slammed into the side of another car and spun, coming to a stop at the dead end of the bridge. Flass rolled down his window and stuck his head out, angrily peering at the speeding projectile.

"HEY! POLICE! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE ****ING GOING!"

As Flass reasserted himself in the driver's seat, Merkel pulled out the speed meter that had been running during the incident. It was showing at least a good hundred and eleven miles an hour.

"Guy must be on something. He's almost maxed out the meter!"

Muttering, the detective turned the key and restarted the engine, realizing it had momentarily shut off during the scuffle. Merkel looked at him, still in shock at the speed. "We going after him?"

But Flass wasn't looking in that direction anymore. He was still fixated on their current objective - wrangling in the Bat. Normally he'd have run the drunk-driving bastard off of the road for what just happened, but he'd let this one slide. There was a better perp for them to handle right now.

"Screw it. O'Fallon's handling the East End tonight, he'll probably catch up with the guy. Let's just keep our eyes on the prize, right now..."

"We got a rodent to fry."

The streets of Gotham City had become nothing more than a simple blur, as Batman grimaced, letting his newest piece of an expanding arsenal do the work for him. The Bat-Pod, as he had christened it, was a fully automated revisioning of the standard top of the line street motorcycle that had been designed for militant transport. But it just so happened that the prototype hadn't made it to the government funding phase, so when Bruce Wayne decided to dig it out of the archives, he naturally found it to be quite a unique opportunity. A few quiet trade-offs later, and it was the first real mode of transportation that he had been able to secure for his nightly line of work.

And given it's current speed, he'd probably be impressed with it. But at moment, Batman was bleeding too much to care. His encounter with the circus clown and the criminal's gang of metahumans had taken alot more out of him than he was willing to admit. Only now was he beginning to feel the numbing pain of broken bones, to add to the trauma.

He silently winced, plugging the deep wounds on his abdomen with the tips of his gloves. "Ungh. Oracle, get... get me on the secure line. Alfred's number. Hurry."

Request Acknowledged. Commencing...

Several rings later, and the sound of Alfred's voice was the only thing keeping Batman from drowsing into unconsciousness. "Sir? Are you alright?"

"Dandy. I'm... I'm losing gallons of blood by the minute, and I'm not sure how long I can keep the wounds closed."

"What happened this time?"

"Followed a lead on Jason's assailant. He was ready for me. Sent... sent a bunch of wild animals on me until he could finish the job himself."

"Animals, sir? Really? Perhaps you should begin rethinking your outlets for this unhealthy obsession with causing yourself such physical harm. Like cage fighting."

Batman grit his teeth, growing impatient. "Bleeding, Alfred. Not in the mood."

"Apologies. How bad is it?"

"Bad. I'm starting to feel some ribs. Maybe a shoulder wound or two. Or three. I... I can't tell for sure."

"If I may, that really sounds a bit out of my level of medical expertise. Perhaps we should call Lucius Fox, if he's still in town..."

"No. No doctors. You know the arrangement."

"Sir, this sounds a bit more serious than a flesh wound. Dr. Fox will be able to better handle-..."

"Alfred, I don't care. Just do the... do the best you..."

Batman's head lulled, as he began to feel himself ready to vomit. Luckily he managed to hold it back, as the Bat-Pod's speed rapidly increased, heading closer towards the west entrance of The Cave.

"Bruce?!"

"Sorry. Just... I don't know. Do something. Do whatever you have to. I'm passing out."

"I'll assess the wounds when you get here. Are you alright to make it home?"

"The Bat-Pod's automated system should take over whenever my vitals drop. I'll be fine. I... I'll be..."

The blurs of city streets turned into blackness, as the Batman unwillingly sped into the night.

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Broome Weather Observatory
Keystone City, Kansas

"As you can see from the size of this," the lady tour guide says as she leads me and Ralph through the halls. "BWO is the biggest weather observatory in America, and the largest one in the western hemisphere."

I nod and pretend to scribble notes while Ralph takes pictures.

"Which school did you boys say you were from?"

"We're from Central City High, ma'm. The school newspaper."

It's a lie, but not a huge one. We both could still pass for high school students, and Ralph worked on the yearbook in eleventh grade. Ralph gives me a look and tells me it's time for me to play my part.

"If you fellows will follow me, we'll check out the dining hall."

"Uhhh, miss?"

"Yes?"

"I...uhh, I have to use the restroom."

"If you'll follow me-"

"I have to go, like...now."

She rolls her eyes in a bit of annoyance and points down the hall from the way we came.

"Second door on your left. We'll be waiting for you in the dining hall. Just stay down this hall when you're finished."

"Thank you," I say as I fast walk away from them. I glance over my shoulder fifty feet down the hallway and see Ralph and the tourguide are gone. There's a computer terminal on the wall. Cracking my knuckles, I get to work.

Ralph always talks about how I'm a computer whiz and can crack almost any code. It's not that I'm that smart, it's just that I can run through almost all probable passwords anyone could come up with in about a minute flat. It takes me a minute and a half to crack the computer, and the information goes whizzing by on the screen.

Jackpot. Clyde Mardon's personnel file appears on the monitor. My dad and Jay have been trying like hell to get this from BWO, but they refused on the grounds his project is top secret. I have all the information in front of me. It takes thirty seconds to transfer it all to a jump drive. Five minutes later, me and Ralph sample BWO's fine cafeteria style cuisine.


​

******

​

"What's it say?" I ask as I peek over Ralph's shoulder. We're in the pig pen he calls a bedroom, his laptop on the cluttered desk with the jump drive stuck in the side port. The information I gleemed from BWO flashes across the screen.

"Clyde Wilbur Marton, age forty-eight. Parents are dead, his brother is Mark Mardon."

"The weather guy at KSKC in Keystone?"

"Yeah. The one with that hot reporter who likes wearing those short skirts."

"Linda Park."

"I can think of something I'd like to park in-"

"Dude, focus. You can visit the Spank Bank when I'm gone."

"Alright, let's scroll down to projects. Check this out: Mardon was working on something called a 'Weather Transmigrophier'."

"Sounds kinky."

"Apparently, it's a metal rod with...get this, the power to change the weather in a two mile radius."

"Wow. That sounds like something out of a comic book...."

I shudder suddenly as the thought comes into my head. I get an odd feeling like someone is watching me...or hundreds of people are watching me from places far away.

"Earth to Bart? You okay?"

"I'm fine. Felt like someone walked over my grave. What does it say about this weather thing?"

"This is the best part. Eight hours before he died, Mardon sucessfully tested it. He made it snow at BWO."

"Bull."

"The report says he did. They have a video recording of it, but it's not attatched to this. Even more interesting? The device was stolen. It went missing around the time Mardon died."

Ralph's nose begins twitching again. Instead of freaking out, he just smiles.

"Looks like this murder just took on a whole new level."​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

"Did I ever tell you the story about I made my bones?"

Sal Maroni: Crazy eyed, sweat-stained suit. Me: heart racing, sweating inside my own suit.

"It was 1978. My dad wanted me to pop this teamster from Keystone City, had a big mouth and hurt a lot of people. It was me, Toots, and the Garboozo Brothers. We get this guy here in town, take him out for a few drinks and get him and drunk. So, he's riding up front with Toots driving, I got the brothers in the back with me. He drops his beer bottle, bends down to pick it up. That's when Toots says 'Now'. I take out this ****ing icepick and I start popping this *****ucker in the head. I'm about four stabs in when the ****ing icepick breaks!"

Sal roars laughter.

"This mother****er is screaming with the icepick stuck in his head 'OH GOD DON'T KILL ME!'. I look at Toots and say 'What the **** do I do?'. Toots says 'Wait 'till his head melts, *******!'. This ****er is still screaming, so I finally take out my gun and pop him in the head...what's wrong, Eddie? You don't look so good."

He KNOWS. Sweat slowly trickling down my forehead.

"I'm...I'm fine. I'm just wondering why you wanted to talk? Just to tell old stories?"

"**** no. The point of that story is to remind you who I am. I am a killer, never forget that. I think you've forgotten what I can do. With Falcone in jail, I ****ing own this city!"

Swallow hard. He KNOWS.

"What's your point."

"One of my son' is dead, the other is missing. If you ask me, I don't think the GCPD is trying to hard to find out who done it."
​

"They've put the best men on Holiday."

"What about Umberto?"

Umberto Maroni? The date-raping piece of **** that got what he deserved?

"That's something Missing Persons is working on. That's part of another branch. MCU is part of the Crimes Against Persons section. That's us, Homicide, Sex Crimes, Fraud, and Robbery."

"What about Umberto?"

He KNOWS. Or he thinks he does.

"I'll look into it personally and see what I can do about speeding up the investigation."

"Good. Some people on the streets is saying that my only living son is fish food. He got chopped up in Slaughter Swamp. For your sake, I hope they ain't right."

Maroni leaves. Hands shaking, whole body sweating. Need a drink...bad.

He KNOWS.

Need to talk to Batman. How? Not like I have a phone number or....spotlight.​

 

[Andy C.]

Lex Luthor

Down in the labs, I'm tinkering around with the calibrations of the Blue's core distribution nexus. Right now it's got enough output to cover most of the Eastern Seaboard, and with no upper limit in sight, I can easily have a Blue-powered electric grid in every city on the continent by the end of the year. Of course, there are plenty of legal hurdles to stride when it comes to running the traditional power companies out of town, but then, there's really nothing LexCorp's legal department can't handle...especially when I write all of their talking points for them. Besides, all of the workers who will find themselves suddenly jobless will make for quite the effective mob when the time comes.

So much is already in motion, and the heart of the brave new world I see remains here, dormant, in my custody.

"You know, had you simply cooperated like I had asked, none of this would be necessary," I say to the man who sits, vegetative and unresponsive, in the restraints of the holding cell while my devices siphon infinite amounts of luminescent blue energy from him. "You could have simply agreed to my proposal, made a double of yourself for use here, and been on your way. But no, you said. You didn't want to be used like that. So instead, you're being used like this, a glorified battery for all time. Even gods need to fear making the mistake of underestimating Lex Luthor."

I get a notification from the HUD in my contact lens. There's been an attack of some sort on the Museum of Civilization. And he is on the scene.

I forward the video feed to Mr. Majestic.

"You may find this interesting," I say. "Study everything he does, every word he says. Find yourself a weakness to exploit. The exercise begins for real within the week, and I'm counting on you to deliver that blood sample. For now, hang back and get an idea of what you're going up against."

I re-allign the video feed to give me picture-in-picture, so I can watch Superman's battle through the security cameras while I work. Then I receive another notification.

Fawcett City. The Kobra operatives have failed to capture the Priority-Beta Target, the military's former mascot 'Wonder Woman.' While Superman still remains the largest threat to the Manhattan Project's success, she is not one to be left to her own devices. Especially while I have yet to uncover the secrets of her powers, and how to turn them to my own means.

Still, I suppose if you want something done, you do it yourself. Kobra has proven to be a most valuable ally in terms of moving weapons and equipment where it needs to go for the coming war, but apparently their ability to deal with metahuman threats has a lot to be desired. It's time to send one of my own after Priority-Beta.

"Miss Zuell," I call for my right hand over the earpiece, "I have a task for you. Specifically, a task for 'Giganta'..."
​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

"Looks good to me," the man in the suit says from behind the desk. His eyes scan over the piece of paper that's in his hands.

District Attorney Harvey Dent looks over the search warrant one more time, then looks back up at me.

"You've got PC on this one, Sage. Not too much PC, but enough to justify a search and seizure warrant."

Dent's eyes shift towards Lieutenant Akins, who accompanied me to his office.

"Day is trash, pure and simple," Akins says with a touch of bitterness in his voice. "Thos murders he committed....," Akins trails off; his voice too filled with emotion to continue.

"I'm running this up to the judge, he'll have the warrant signed within the hour."

"Get your kevlar on," Akins says to me. The emotion now gone from his voice.

"On my way, sir."

​

******

​

With Captain Branden and his SWAT team leading the way, the doors to Julian Day's apartment flies off the hinges and the heavily armed men come running in.

"FREEZE," the half-dozen men scream in unison. Sitting on the living room couch is Day, his hands up in the air. In front of him is roughly an ounce of heroin.

"Julian Day," I say as I come through the door. The rest of the SWAT team runs through the apartment, checking the rooms.

"You're under arrest. Place your hands behind your back."

He stands calmly, doing what I ask. I pull my cuffs and place them on Day's wrist. When I hear the snap of the cuffs locking in, my heart skips a beat.

I've done it. Holiday is under arrest.​

 

[Saved]

"Kill him, now!"
"You always did hate the witty banter," Jason shakes his head in disappointment. "Alright, then," he says suddenly, lunging forward unexpectedly and delivering a powerful kick to the Russian’s neck. "It's time for the main event!"

As Jason's leg connects, Nicodemus's head turns to the side, causing a loud pop to be heard. Jason grins widely, waiting for his foe to drop after the accurate strike. To his surprise, Nicodemus remains standing, his body unphased by the hit. His head slowly turns back to its original position, a small stream of blood trickling down from the corner of his mouth. He laughs hauntingly as he wipes away the thin red liquid, smiling as if unsurprised by the Red Hood's eager and cocky disposition.

As Jason watches the large man move in closer, he stares wide eyed at him - shocked by how ineffective his kick truly was. "That's... not good."
"It's about to get worse."
"We'll find out, won't we? Bring it on, ruskie."

Red Hood​

In one of the many private rooms held within the upper levels of the Iceburg Lounge, Jason Todd finds himself in a stand off with one of Gotham's most notorious crime lords; Oswald Cobblepot. After breaking up a drug deal earlier in the night, Todd pursued two of the dealers back to the Iceburg Lounge where he found them reporting back to their boss. Breaking into the private room in a fit of controlled, yet haughty rage, Jason decided to lay out an ultimatum to the criminal mastermind, lacing it with a slew of callous insults. Now Jason finds himself engaged in a fight with two of Cobblepot's enforcers, ready to break through Oswald's line of defense so he can finally get his hands around the corrupt socialite's plump, fat neck.​

****​

Leaping into the air towards Nicodemus, Jason launches his leg forward, swinging it around as hard as he can, connecting the top of his foot with the towering man's head. Instantly, Nicodemus grabs Jason's leg mid kick, and powerfully thrusts his body downward into the wooden floorboards. "Hah hah hah." The man chuckles in a deep bellow as he stares at the Red Hood writhing in pain.​

"Alright..." he says in a strained voice. "Now you're gonna pay for that." With a roar, Nicodemus moves forward, cocking his arm back and throwing it forward with all his might before Jason can finish his sentence. Moving fast, he rolls backward, evading the punch by what seems like fractions of an inch. Nicodemus's hand breaks through the floor, snapping two of the floor boards in half. Splinters of wood rise in a thin mist, hovering in the air above the broken ground.​

"You clumsy, psychotic troll." Todd mocks as he rises to his feet. "All that power but no speed. Then again, I would imagine someone working for Cobblepot to be a little slow." ​

"Your bones," he begins, pulling his fist out from the whole. "they will be grinding to dust."
"Broken english, huh," Todd says, reaching into his pocket. "And how does it feel, being a walking stereotype?"​

Nicodemus rushes the Red Hood, hoping to catch him off guard in a sudden attack. Jason simply grins, already prepared for his foes next attack. Pulling his hand out from the inside of his jacket, he reveals a flashbang, armed and primed for use. On the exposed side of the device a strange paste glistens in the soft light of the room. Todd pays close attention to keep his fingers away from the putty, knowing that his next move must go off without a hitch.​

As the large thug moves closer, Jason tenses his arm, his grip on the device growing tighter. "Just a second more..." he whispers, his eyes fixed on his foe.
"You will die, little man!"
"You know what, Nico?" Jason asks as he jumps into the air. His body rises over Nicodemus's as he passes below him in a rush of rage. Todd slams the device into his enemy's face, the paste adhering securely to the man's skin. Jason continues his flip, hitting the floor and moving into a roll as Nicodemus continues to run forward, his momentum too great for him to stop. "Take a nap!" Jason shouts with labored breath as he burries his face into his arm, taking cover.​

Suddenly, the device explodes in a blinding light, a loud bang sending defening waves of sound throughout the room. All goes quiet in the room for a few moments as everything seems to stop. As the flash of light begins to clear, a high pitched ringing begins to sound in everyone's ear, leaving them partially deaf and blind. Amongst the chaos, Jason rises to his feet, the only member in the room who isn't temporarily disoriented. Looking around, he sees his foe lying helpless on the floor - unconscious and still as a cadaver.​

"Nighty Night, Nico." Jason says proudly. "I've never tried that at such close range before. Wonder if that leaves any permanent damage." Jason turns away from his fallen foe and directs his attention to Cobblepot. He stares at the would be crime lord cowering on the floor with his hands over his ears, his women 'companions' all lying unconscious on the floor around him. "Alright, Cobblepot." Jason says in a loud voice as he walks toward the trembling man. "I know your hearing's coming back by now, otherwise, you'd be unconscious like the rest of your 'friends'. So I want you to listen, and listen closely." ​

Jason picks the heavy man up by his collar, lifting him high in the air and bringing his face parallel to his. "If I ever catch you or your crew selling in Gotham again, I'll burn this place to the ground. I'll burn it all, Ozzy; all your buisness, all your wealth - everything. And just when you think I've forgotten about you, that's when I'll come for you. I'll find you, Ozzy, no matter where you go, no matter where you hide. And once I find you - well... let's just say you'll wish you had burned with the rest of your capital." ​

"Y-You won't kill," he squawks as he squirms in Jason's powerful grip. "You and Batman, you're not cops. -waugh- You don't have any jurisdiction over me." ​

"Do I look like I'm a cop?!" Jason growls, shaking the terrified man violently. "Do I look like I'm BATMAN?! DO I?!" Cobblepot shakes his head back and forth, huffing and puffing in fear as beads of sweat run down his face. "I'm not a vigilante, Oswald. I'm the angel of death! And you better pray I never visit your house again." Jason throws Cobblepot to the ground, sneering under his helmet at the sheer sight of the man.​

"Y-You're ... -waugh- crazy." Cobblepot groans, struggling to breathe. "One of these -waugh- days, someone's gonna p-pop a cap in you. Then we'll all see how -waugh- much of a joke you really are."

"You should talk, Ozzy. That tux makes you like like a ****ing penguin." Jason turns and heads for the door, stepping over the unconscious bodies litering the floor. "Remember what I said, Oswald. This wasn't a threat - it was a promise." Jason steps through the open door way and heads out into the dark shadows as he exits the building, heading back into the desolate and unforgiving night.​

 

[Saved]

The Atom repiles, "Yeah a camo-style trench coat, a black t-shirt, black pants, and biker boots. He had his face painted in cam-style as well."

She floats slightly ahead and she looks around.

The Atom says, "That's too easy."

She turns to look at Batgirl and points to opne manhole cover, "No way! Because if he really went down there he pulls the cover back to avoid suspiscion. My guess he went dumpster diving." She motions to a dumpster behind her.

As I watch her point to the dumpster, I notice something I had missed before. Discretely I walk up to the glorified rectangular trash can and point to the faint smudge of a hand print on the top corner. Putting my finger through the goop, I take a sample, and bring it to my eyes. As I inspect it closely, I notice how fresh it is - probably no more than an hour old at the most. "You said he was wearing face paint?" I ask in a hushed tone.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

As I watch her point to the dumpster, I notice something I had missed before. Discretely I walk up to the glorified rectangular trash can and point to the faint smudge of a hand print on the top corner. Putting my finger through the goop, I take a sample, and bring it to my eyes. As I inspect it closely, I notice how fresh it is - probably no more than an hour old at the most. "You said he was wearing face paint?" I ask in a hushed tone.

The Atom floats up to Batgirl and says, "Yeah he was, and trust me I don't think he looks much better without it either. What do ya think? Should we rattle the cage a little bit?"

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Doris continues landing blows on the heavy bag. Just then she hears her pager beep and the heavy bag dematerializes into a fine mist and the training room suddenly looks like an empty warehouse.

She answers the pager and hears

Lex Luthor

"Miss Zuell," I call for my right hand over the earpiece, "I have a task for you. Specifically, a task for 'Giganta'..."
​

Doris nods and says, "On my way Mr. Luthor."

She cuts off the pager and smiles as she heads off to Lex's office.

 

[Saved]

The Atom floats up to Batgirl and says, "Yeah he was, and trust me I don't think he looks much better without it either. What do ya think? Should we rattle the cage a little bit?"

"I'd like that," I explain happily. As I jump onto the top of the dumpster, the idea of using a smoke grenade pops into my head. Too bad I didn't 'borrow' any of those. This would be the perfect situation to use them. Gotta remember to note that for another time.

Bending over, I grab the top flap and tense my arm, ready to flip it open. "Get ready," I whisper to Atom as my fingers adjust their grip. With a sudden burst of strength, I swing the dumpster's lid open, "Surprise!" I shout as I peer inside. "Well hello there," I start as I stare intently at the crime boss lying waist deep in decomposing garbage. "I wasn't aware we were playing hide and go seek."

"Freakin' capes," he growls in anger.
"Well... I have a cape, but technically Atom over there doesn't have a cape." As I point to where my partner hovers, it dawns on me that he probably can't see her clearly enough to know its a bite size human. "Okay, I know you probably can't see her, but trust me - she's there. And no, I'm not crazy. ... Alright, well maybe a little."
"Yeah? You know what else you are, girlie?" He asks with a devious smile. In the blink of an eye, he raises his arm from the muck, aiming a small pistol toward the center of my forehead. "Dead."

Before I can react, he pulls the trigger, and a loud click echoes in the alleyway. I close my eyes and expect the worst - awaiting a hot piece of lead to burrow its way into my skull. To my surprise, nothing happens. As I open my eyes, I see him pull the trigger again, the gun making the same familiar 'click' as it did before.

"Haha," I laugh nervously, trying to regain my overzealous, cocky attitude. "Having a little trouble?"
"What the-" he shouts, slamming the handle of the gun into the side of the dumpster. "JAMMED?! What the ****!?"
"Yeah, I'm sure you've never had this type of problem before." I quip, my confidence returning.
"What? Why you little-"
"Ah. Ah. Ah, Drury." I grin, reaching forward and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "At this point, I'd reccomend you plead the fifth." Swinging my arm back, I deliver one swift, powerful punch to his jaw, knocking him unconscious. "Heh." I snicker, staring at his limp body as I hold him within my grasp. "My first baddy. Not bad Babs. Not bad."

Rising to my feet, I pull Drury Walker's body out from the dumpster and drop him down onto the cold concrete of the alley. "Alright, Atom," I start as I brush the grime off my gloves. "You want to wait 'til he wakes up and knock him around a bit before we turn him over to GCPD?"

 

[Spike_x1]

Charles "Chucky" Sol was dead, allegedly killed by the "Holiday" murderer that many said was prowling Gotham City's streets these days.

"Ridiculous," Bane muttered to himself. "Far too many themed criminals are crowded in this city." Of course, the large muscular man in a mask was more than aware of the irony in his complaints on that particular matter.

Here he was, hidden high in a tree and watching several members of the Valestra Family emerge out of the waters of Slaughter Swamp as their boss, Carl Grissom, oversaw the operation. From what Bane could surmise, in reaction to the appearance of the Holiday Killer, Grissom became concerned that all his men who had vanished without a trace over the last few months (courtesy of Bane actually) had been victims of Holiday before the killer became bold enough to make his murders more public, as his recent ones had been.

News of Bane's existence, confirmed by Kite-Man and the Falcone Family last year, obviously hadn't reached Mr. Grissom's ears yet. No matter. For the moment, Bane was content with not taking credit for the discreet elimination of various members of Gotham's crime families. As it was now, Grissom was under the impression that if murders were taking place in Gotham, one of the best places to hide bodies would be Slaughter Swamp.

And he was correct. Bane had hidden dozens of bodies in the waters, but was surprised when Grissom's men, attired in diving suits, came out of the swamp and claimed that they couldn't find anything. Hoping to confirm what he thought had happened to many of his men, Grissom's shoulders slumped in disappointment, while Bane's eyebrows rose in confusion under his mask.

Where did the bodies go?

That's when Bane saw the monstrous form coming out of the woods and slowly approaching Grissom and his thugs, while they drew their weapons. Bane was surprised once more this evening when he looked at the creature's face through his binoculars. It was wiping the decomposed human remains off its chin, answering Bane's question of where the bodies of Slaughter Swamp had gone, but astonishing him even further when he recognized the thing's face.

Umberto Maroni had become something less than human.

As the cretinous thugs open fire on the towering monstrous form of what used to be Umberto Maroni, Bane stowed his binoculars back in his utility belt and stealthily descended from the tree where he had been hidden. Neither the pale zombie, nor Grissom or his men had spotted Bane in the darkness yet, and he was going to use this once in a lifetime opportunity to his advantage.

The Maroni creature barely even seemed fazed by the gunfire that pelted him. The bullets had broken his wet decomposing skin, but he hardly appeared to be injured by the gunshots beyond mere fleshwounds. Instead, he was simply enraged. Roaring with anger, the beast stormed toward Girssom's thugs and hit one of them with colossal strength, snapping the man's spine in half and sending his corpse flying into the swamp. Umberto was a lumbering brute and not very fast, but its strength was unquestionable. As the thing busied itself with Grissom's enforcers, Bane quietly approached Grissom himself from behind. Without a word, the old man was dead at Bane's hand and the bloody remains of Grissom's neck stained his killer's boots.

Watching the men fire stupidly at the pale monster, unaware that there had just been a change in management for the Valestra mob, Bane studied the Maroni creature's movements for almost a minute before calling their futile assault to an end.

"ENOUGH!"

Both Maroni and the remaining thugs who hadn't already been beaten to death by the monster looked up at Bane, startled by his audible intrusion on their fight. It took a moment for the hired muscle to even notice Grissom's body lying at Bane's feet. "I control the Valestra Family now," he declared.

Not sure what to make of this statement made during the middle of a fight with a hulking white zombie, the gang members all appeared quite confused and frustrated, not sure whether to fire on Bane or continue wasting their ammunition on Umberto Maroni. "Izzat Bane?" whispered one of them. "He's the guy who killed Kite-Man and took over Black Mask's old crew. Ol' Grissom didn't think he wuz even real!"

Easily overhearing their frightened whispers, Bane responded, "I am quite real, and you can all either follow my rule or die like the old man."

"Buddy, if you can kill this pale freak," said one of the gunmen as he jerked his thumb at the former Umberto Maroni, "...(and you pay us good)... I got no problem with taking orders from you."

"So be it."

Like a cornered feral animal whose attackers have inexplicably taken a rest, Maroni growls in anger, unsure of what to do while the small people in front of him talk. Finally, they all run away as the bigger one in a mask slowly approaches him.