The New Ultimate DC RPG

[Catman_prb]

"Who dares trespass into my domain," a voice as old as antiquity spoke, practically rasping with contempt for life.

Zod drew his pistol from behind his holster and took a step backwards as the behemoth rose from it's gigantic seat, taking a thunderous step towards him.

"Beware mortal," it spoke in that awful voice that told of pain and torture.

"For I am Darkseid, Lord over all creation!"

Without waiting for any form of dialogue, Zod pulled a strange pistol from a harness on his belt. The behemoth stepped forwards, each footstep a floor shuddering thud. Zod fired his weapon, a sickly green beam hitting Darkseid in the shoulder.

The God-King roared, charging at the smaller Zod, who rolled out of the way, allowing the creature to move past him. The kryptonian warmaster grinned as he outmanouvered his foe. The grin was replaced with a look of shock as Darkseid's great hand collided with his chest, knocking him into a wall. He breathed heavily, struggling to get up as the monstrosity stood over him, bathing him in his shadow.

"Fool," Zod gasped "You know not what you are doing,"

Darkseid grinned, looking down at him.

"Little once-born," the God boomed "You are niave to think you could challenge me,"

A great boot rose above Zod's head. The warmaster raised his pistol again and fired once more. The blast hit just below the giant's knee, causing it to shrink back, clutching at the source of his pain. General Zod pulled himself up on shaky legs, limping away from Darkseid.

"Ursa, prepare to beam me up," Zod growled into his earpiece.

The God bent over, a giant fist closing around Zod, crushing the breath out of him. He lifted him to his face, holding him so bright red eyes could look into dark grey.

"What are you little once-born?" Darkseid asked.

"I am General Dru-Zod of the planet Krypton," the General rasped as he was crushed. The Dark God laughed.

"Kryptonian," Darkseid said "You are a spirited credit to a weakling race,"

General Zod grinned and grabbed a small silver device from inside the sleeve of his combat jacket. The kryptonian flicked it on, letting out a brilliant blue light. He slashed the laser-knife down on the God's hand, slicing off a giant finger. Darkseid howled in pain, dropping Zod to the ground, clasping at the bleeding stump where his finger had been.

"Beware Darkseid," Zod said, spitting blood out onto the cavern floor "Under the might of Krypton, even a God may bleed,"

Then came the blinding, agonising pain of matter transporting.

He sat in his chair on the bridge of the Dominance, watching as Non and Ursa played the weapons console of the ship like a well tuned violin. Hundreds of small Apokaliptan fighters hurled themselves at the ship, but none made the perilous journey.

"Orders sir?" Ursa asked.

"Set course for Krypton," Zod said, setting back in his chair and closing his eyes.

 

[Batman]

The Iceberg Lounge. In a small way, it only seems fitting that I find myself here. Whenever the misguided denizens of Gotham City's slums first break into the businesses of underground trades and smuggling, this is usually the first place that they're directed to. On the surface, of course, it seems relatively tame - with music that can be heard for blocks, and lines that are just as long at the front entrance, the facade it's established seems to provide more than a suitable distraction from the management's shadier operations. It can almost be said that if anything, this is the city's public revenue for everything that Gotham is as a whole. Corrupt, dirty, and a lie.

Thankfully, I'm not here to stay - but rather, to extract. There's a man I'm looking for, someone who's resources may outmatch my own in regards to the city's underworld fraternities. And if the thug I interrogated was telling me the truth, collecting information in The Iceberg's backstage office is one of his weekly forms of business. Oswald Cobblepot personally fronts his operations, so he's likely to be heavily guarded at all times. The ironic thing is, by entering that scenario, it should provide me with the perfect opportunity to test the new suit. As for scaring off the Lounge's customers, to get them away from potential gunfire...

CRASH!

I think I've got that covered.

Several screams and multicolor strobe lights greet me, as I smash through the glass ceiling of the club's dance floor. People are scattering by the time my boots hit one of the tables, giving me a platform to stand. The music stops, and anyone who's left behind immediately see me, and begin staring in absolute terror. Cobblepot's legion of suited guards push past them, and rush the stage in an immediate coup, surrounding any possible exits. As if I'm actually going to try and leave.

"Tell the boss we've got trouble,", I can hear one of them order through the microphone in my cowl. They're likely going to attempt to rush my target out of the building as quickly as possible. They don't realize why I'm here, but they're going to be taking all the necessary precautions. I've got to time this right, or risk losing my chance entirely.

Challenging the nearest two guards, I leap off of the table and spread my cape to glide across the area, slamming into them both with a carefully timed dual kick. I spin, and connect my elbow into the first's jaw before he can reach his concealed gun. Other one's taken out with a simple jab to the throat, followed by a haymaker. By the time he falls, the first few bullets begin to ricochet off of the walls, causing me to roll in order to avoid them. Two batarangs and a flash bomb later, the gunfire momentarily stops, opening the opportunity for a sneak attack. Wasting no time, I begin working into them and taking as many as I can on while they're still blinded.

Normally, I'd have been far too restricted to fight back so soon. But this version of the costume's taken off alot of the excess weight in armor, giving me more mobility and flexibility than ever before. Half of the kevlar's been traded in for a lighter pocketed material, concealing more tools than my old belt could have usually carried. And similarly, spacing out the weapons across the bodysuit gives me more room to twist, allowing me to utilize alot more of my training in gymnastics. The boots and gloves are better reinforced, making the fight all the more easier for me to win. And perhaps best of all, the cowl's neck can actually turn. Nothing in this design's been used for show, because all I've ever really needed was the practicality. It oddly brings me closer to the role I've been trying to portray in my mission - I don't have to rely on the persona to do it's work anymore. I've taken the essence of what I've created and boiled it down to it's most simplistic elements. I don't have to pretend to be a creature of the night anymore.

With this newfound sense of freedom, I've turned myself into one.

"I'm looking for someone."

Six minutes later and most of the remaining staff has been rendered unconscious, with many of them probably suffering trauma-induced concussions. Save for an unfortunate bouncer that tried to make his way out. I managed to convince him to stay by slamming his head into a wall, breaking a beer bottle over his back, and pinning him hard across one of the tables. He now struggles for breath against my grip, as I only tighten it around his throat.

"Byron Matthews, the man that's called himself The Wire. Tell me where he is, and you can breathe again."

He shakes his head, desperate to keep himself conscious. But his situation doesn't leave him with alot of options. Pressing down, I can see his face begin to turn color, as he attempts to claw at my wrist - failing to realize that the gauntlet's titanium. Eventually, he gives in, and points towards the Men's bathroom. Turning my attention in that direction, I let him go just as he falls into stillness. He'll wake up just in time to see the forensics crew trying to clean up the scene.

Now for my target. The Wire, a man so well-connected to every dealing in the city that he's managed to avoid my attention for months. The Skeevers brothers' gang alone has lost thousands of dollars just to keep this link to their secrets well hidden from the police. It didn't occur to me until a few weeks ago that he also may have had information that I could use against Sal Maroni, whose currently running the majority of illegal operations in Gotham.

Kicking open the door, Oracle scans the stalls for any sign of life. There's nothing at first, until I finally come to the end. Sensors are indicating a strong heat signature coming from inside. I push open the unlocked door, and see a short man that that's hunched ontop of a toilet, going out of his way to try and hide from me. I can tell from his distinctive appearance that it's him - the man I'm looking for. Grabbing him by the shirt, I forcibly drag him out of the stall and throw him onto the dirtied floor. He's visibly shaking, even as he scrambles to his knees and starts backing towards the wall.

"Aw, geez. W-What do you want with me?"

"What everyone in Gotham wants from you, Matthews."

"Your secrets."

 

[Catman_prb]

The entire GLC blasts off into the air, leaving a trail of emerald energy in its wake as they break out of Oa's atmosphere and disappear into the reaches of space.​

Sector 666

Kyle Rayner stabbed and hacked at the numerous dark figures that inhabited the sector. The area was dense with bodies, both dead and living. He blasted one Black Lantern through the back of the head, through the mouth, blowing his skull out into space. It kept coming. With emerald green blades, he sliced the rotting skull of at the neck, letting it drift into space. The body kept thrashing, but without the head it was useless.

He continued in this fashion, fighting three at a time and covering himself in black ichor. He had long since lost track of Hal Jordan, the only other human in this mess. Well, other than Hand anyway, and he wasn't so sure about him anymore. The sheer power he had weilded when they last fought...it was unthinkable. He heard a shout.

"I cant find Sinestro!" a high voice shouted, before disappearing back into the black mass. Katma Tui.

...save her...

And there was that damned voice again. It was in his head, but he could feel the blue ring that he had kept stashed in his pocket burn redhot. The ring of Saint Walker, that he had stolen from his body...

Letting out a shout of defiance, Rayner cut a swathe through the dead bodies, reaching Tui's position. He grabbed her hand, pulled her through the mass, still slicing and stabbing with the emerald blade in his other hand.

"What's going on?" she gasped, the colour returning to her pink cheeks.

"The GLC's taking most of them head on. It doesnt look good, each time they kill one of us, they come back as one of them," Kyle said, blasting with his ring.

"Where's the Sinestro Corps?" Katma Tui asked, starting to fight them again herself.

"We'll find them," he stated firmly.

"What's the point? We're stuck here anyway,"

"There's always hope," Kyle said, a blue tinge wrapping itself around the usual green glow of his ring.

"You sound like...but that's impossible," Katma Tui gasped.

"Anything's possible Katma. I taught you that much," Saint Walker said through Kyle Rayner's body "Now let's find Sinestro,"

 

[Byrd Man]

Sector 666

Kyle Rayner stabbed and hacked at the numerous dark figures that inhabited the sector. The area was dense with bodies, both dead and living. He blasted one Black Lantern through the back of the head, through the mouth, blowing his skull out into space. It kept coming. With emerald green blades, he sliced the rotting skull of at the neck, letting it drift into space. The body kept thrashing, but without the head it was useless.

He continued in this fashion, fighting three at a time and covering himself in black ichor. He had long since lost track of Hal Jordan, the only other human in this mess. Well, other than Hand anyway, and he wasn't so sure about him anymore. The sheer power he had weilded when they last fought...it was unthinkable. He heard a shout.

"I cant find Sinestro!" a high voice shouted, before disappearing back into the black mass. Katma Tui.

...save her...

And there was that damned voice again. It was in his head, but he could feel the blue ring that he had kept stashed in his pocket burn redhot. The ring of Saint Walker, that he had stolen from his body...

Letting out a shout of defiance, Rayner cut a swathe through the dead bodies, reaching Tui's position. He grabbed her hand, pulled her through the mass, still slicing and stabbing with the emerald blade in his other hand.

"What's going on?" she gasped, the colour returning to her pink cheeks.

"The GLC's taking most of them head on. It doesnt look good, each time they kill one of us, they come back as one of them," Kyle said, blasting with his ring.

"Where's the Sinestro Corps?" Katma Tui asked, starting to fight them again herself.

"We'll find them," he stated firmly.

"What's the point? We're stuck here anyway,"

"There's always hope," Kyle said, a blue tinge wrapping itself around the usual green glow of his ring.

"You sound like...but that's impossible," Katma Tui gasped.

"Anything's possible Katma. I taught you that much," Saint Walker said through Kyle Rayner's body "Now let's find Sinestro,"

The battle in Sector 666 rages on, with neither side gaining an advantage on the other. It's time to tip the scales in our favor.

"Let's go!"

The Eartman Jordn and Arkillo flank my sides as I lead the 500 some odd Green Lanterns into battle. We come on the battle's far flank and break through the front line, destroying as many of Hand's creatures as possible.

A emerald blade forms into my hand. I chop off an undead creature's head with ease.

"Try to keep up, Jordan!" I yell over the carnage. Slowly, we're beating back Hands forces.

 

[Catman_prb]

The battle in Sector 666 rages on, with neither side gaining an advantage on the other. It's time to tip the scales in our favor.

"Let's go!"

The Eartman Jordn and Arkillo flank my sides as I lead the 500 some odd Green Lanterns into battle. We come on the battle's far flank and break through the front line, destroying as many of Hand's creatures as possible.

A emerald blade forms into my hand. I chop off an undead creature's head with ease.

"Try to keep up, Jordan!" I yell over the carnage. Slowly, we're beating back Hands forces.

Rayner and Tui ploughed through the outskirts of the battle, looping round to meet up wiith Sinestro's flank attack.

"It looks like we're making progress," Katma said.

"We are indeed. But it is nothing without Hand," Saint Walker said through Kyle's mouth.

Rayner's eyes changed from blue to green and he shook his head "I wish he'd stop doing that,"

Tui's eyes flashed with humour, and then they were in and amongst the members of the Sinestro Corps.

"Thaal Sinestro," Saint Walker said, flying alongside him "Are you ready? Because he is coming,"

In the distance they could see a swirling black vortex of darkness that the horrific Black Lanterns were emerging from. The Lanterns knew that in the centre of that vortex, lay William Hand.

 

[Eddie Brock]

Strip off my jacket, unknot my tie.

"I had both feet firmly planted in my grave, but managed to talk my way out of it. I've got two more months to find out who Holiday is before I either join Gordon's goon squad, skip out of town, or wind up in Slaughter Swamp."

Slaughter Swamp. Where HE is buried. Umberto. OUR secret. Maroni doesn't know....yet.

"From what I gather, he assumes you died in the fire I set. I hope I managed to get everything you needed before I torched it."

I look through the things Nygma laid out on the bed. "It'll be enough. I'll need to get rid of some of this stuff," I say as I pick up my cell phone. I also need to get rid of any old forms of identification - driver's license, social security card, etc. As far as the world is concerned, Selina Kyle is dead and buried.

And, in some ways, it's true.

"What do I do about work?" I ask. "I can't set foot in the station. A little hair dye isn't going to fool anyone who knows my face."

 

[Eddie Brock]

"Hold on a sec, we're on the move again."

In a flicker of motion, Green Arrow and I are on top of one of Star City's largest skyscrapers.

"Sorry about that. I needed to get somewhere out of Trickster's cameras and microphones. I was taking apart the helicopter's engine when it struck me that this guy has something against cops."

Green Arrow shoots me a no-duh look and I shrug in response.

"Just bear with me, okay? I've taken some classes in criminal profiling and I started profiling Trickster while I was working on the helicopter. Okay, this guy hasn't asked for money. He knows a thing or two about how the city's power and control systems work, and he loved pulling our tails on this wild goose chase. What does that tell you? They're doing it for revenge, and to embarrass Star City officials. We were brought into the game by chance. If not us, then he'd be doing this with some cops. Chances are, we're looking at some disgruntled Star City employee, maybe a cop, but someone with enough smarts to rig up all these games and hack into the system. We need to get to City Hall and look through their personnel files."

A known outlaw walking into City Hall - of all places - to look through confidential files? Can't be any crazier than jumping out of a helicopter. "I hope you're comfortable with breaking and entering. My legal status is...questionable...at best."

I look around for a moment.

"Oh, and I'm going to need another bow," I add, spotting the mangled remains of my compound bow on the ground. "I have a cache hidden in a shipping container down by the docks.

 

[Byrd Man]

I look through the things Nygma laid out on the bed. "It'll be enough. I'll need to get rid of some of this stuff," I say as I pick up my cell phone. I also need to get rid of any old forms of identification - driver's license, social security card, etc. As far as the world is concerned, Selina Kyle is dead and buried.

And, in some ways, it's true.

"What do I do about work?" I ask. "I can't set foot in the station. A little hair dye isn't going to fool anyone who knows my face."

"The bodyguard unit works out of the Northwestern District house. You walked a beat in the Southeastern and you worked Vice out of Central. Also I checked your file and cross-referenced with of the officers in the bodyguard unit and the officers in the Northwestern. The best I can tell, you haven't crossed paths with any of these officers in your time with the GCPD. Even if they've heard of a Selina Kyle, odds are they won't know you're her."

 

[Byrd Man]

A known outlaw walking into City Hall - of all places - to look through confidential files? Can't be any crazier than jumping out of a helicopter. "I hope you're comfortable with breaking and entering. My legal status is...questionable...at best."

I look around for a moment.

"Oh, and I'm going to need another bow," I add, spotting the mangled remains of my compound bow on the ground. "I have a cache hidden in a shipping container down by the docks.

Green Arrow and I disappear off of the rooftop. I come to a stop by the docks and let go of the Emerald Archer.

"I'll be back in a minute. I can move faster when I'm not carrying someone. You go get your bow from your...uhh...Arrow..Lair? And I'll go to City Hall and see what I can find."

I take off again, racing through the streets at unimaginable speeds.

 

[Eddie Brock]

Green Arrow and I disappear off of the rooftop. I come to a stop by the docks and let go of the Emerald Archer.

"I'll be back in a minute. I can move faster when I'm not carrying someone. You go get your bow from your...uhh...Arrow..Lair? And I'll go to City Hall and see what I can find."

I take off again, racing through the streets at unimaginable speeds.

Arrow Lair? ...That's not a terrible idea. Shaking off the suggestion, I approach the chain-link fence. Beneath a sign bearing the Queen Industries logo, there's a smaller one proclaiming, "TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED." It feels a little ludicrous that I'm breaking into my own property, but it sure beats having to answer questions about why Oliver Queen is walking around the shipping yard.

As usual, the top of the fence is adorned with barbed wire. I take off my vest and toss it up so that it lays on top of the barbed wire. Pulling myself up, I drop down on the other side of the fence and put my vest back on. I jog down the aisles of shipping containers until I find the one I'm looking for.

The unmarked white container is different from the surrounding ones in that it doesn't have a Queen Industries logo emblazoned on the side. As far as anyone is concerned, the container is privately-owned by an anonymous person. I never know where I'll be in the city at any given time, so I set up caches like this in (relatively) easily-accessible locations.

Opening the lock - to which only I have the key - I slip inside the container and close the door behind me. A small, motion-sensing light comes on, illuminating a wooden crate. I open the crate, finding an unused wooden bow inside. "Hello, beautiful."

I sling the bow over my shoulder and lock the container as I leave. I find a spot out-of-sight to wait for the Flash to return.

 

[Byrd Man]

Star City Hall

A fat woman's eyes bug out mid-bite during her lunch of a very unheathy looking hamburger. God, all that grease and bacon....I gotta get one of those before I head home.

The lady in question is Cynthia P. Dix. I know this because it's written on a name badge stuck on her blouse. Underneath her name is her title: City Clerk. If anyone knows about a city employee, disgruntled or gruntled, she'd be the one.

"Who are you?!"

"I'm the Ghost of Heart Attacks Yet To Come, lady. I'm here to tell you to stop eating that nasty, disgusting, delicious hamburger...or give me the leftovers, I can eat around the places you've eaten on."

"I'm calling the cops...," she says as she turns towards her phone

"Hold on a sec." I take the phone away at super-speed. "Okay, you got me. I'm the Flash, that fast guy from the midwest? I'm here on special business. You know all that mess that's been going on in town lately? The power going out and planes almost crashing? Well, I'm involved in that. Someone is pulling mine and another guy's strings, making us jump through hoops and we think it's someone who used to work here that's involved in it."

"Axel," Cynthia replies without hesitation.

"Come again?"

"Axel Walker. We hired him six months ago as an IT technician. Turns out he had a record. Computer fraud and hacking with a dozen aliases. I remember James Jesse as one of them. Like that old bankrobber."

It's actually Jesse James. Being from Missouri, I know all about him and his exploits.

"Two more questions, ma'am. Do you happen to have his last known address?"

"Yes. Let me get it for you. Oh, wha was your other question?"

*********​

I skid to a stop beside Green Arrow, the piece of paper with Walker's last known address in one hand, a half-eaten greasy hamburger in the other hand.

"Sorry, had to refill the fuel tanks."

 

[Eddie Brock]

Star City Hall

A fat woman's eyes bug out mid-bite during her lunch of a very unheathy looking hamburger. God, all that grease and bacon....I gotta get one of those before I head home.

The lady in question is Cynthia P. Dix. I know this because it's written on a name badge stuck on her blouse. Underneath her name is her title: City Clerk. If anyone knows about a city employee, disgruntled or gruntled, she'd be the one.

"Who are you?!"

"I'm the Ghost of Heart Attacks Yet To Come, lady. I'm here to tell you to stop eating that nasty, disgusting, delicious hamburger...or give me the leftovers, I can eat around the places you've eaten on."

"I'm calling the cops...," she says as she turns towards her phone

"Hold on a sec." I take the phone away at super-speed. "Okay, you got me. I'm the Flash, that fast guy from the midwest? I'm here on special business. You know all that mess that's been going on in town lately? The power going out and planes almost crashing? Well, I'm involved in that. Someone is pulling mine and another guy's strings, making us jump through hoops and we think it's someone who used to work here that's involved in it."

"Axel," Cynthia replies without hesitation.

"Come again?"

"Axel Walker. We hired him six months ago as an IT technician. Turns out he had a record. Computer fraud and hacking with a dozen aliases. I remember James Jesse as one of them. Like that old bankrobber."

It's actually Jesse James. Being from Missouri, I know all about him and his exploits.

"Two more questions, ma'am. Do you happen to have his last known address?"

"Yes. Let me get it for you. Oh, wha was your other question?"

*********​

I skid to a stop beside Green Arrow, the piece of paper with Walker's last known address in one hand, a half-eaten greasy hamburger in the other hand.

"Sorry, had to refill the fuel tanks."

I watch Flash eat, half-disgusted and half-impressed. He must have an amazing metabolism to be able to eat like that and stay in shape. I, however, don't have that luxury. I need to carefully monitor everything I do in order to keep my body in top form. It's really not as bad as it sounds.

I take the paper from Flash and read over it. "This is our address?" I ask hypothetically. "This is right in the middle of the Triangle. I'm not surprised the Trickster is able to operate safely out of there. That neighborhood is so crime-ridden that the cops don't know where to start."

I hand Flash the address back.

"Well, what are we waiting for? We have a bad guy to catch."

 

[Byrd Man]

I watch Flash eat, half-disgusted and half-impressed. He must have an amazing metabolism to be able to eat like that and stay in shape. I, however, don't have that luxury. I need to carefully monitor everything I do in order to keep my body in top form. It's really not as bad as it sounds.

I take the paper from Flash and read over it. "This is our address?" I ask hypothetically. "This is right in the middle of the Triangle. I'm not surprised the Trickster is able to operate safely out of there. That neighborhood is so crime-ridden that the cops don't know where to start."

I hand Flash the address back.

"Well, what are we waiting for? We have a bad guy to catch."

"Alrighty," I say as I polish off the last of the burger. I bend down and stretch. Green Arrow shoots me a slightly annoyed look. "Just give me a sec, I like to limber up after I eat. I don't really feel like pulling a hamstring while I'm going Mach 2."

I pop back up. "Let's do it!"

Seconds later, Green Arrow and I are in front of the apartment building that Trickster lives in. Jeez, he wasn't just whistling Dixie when he said this neighborhood was bad. Seriously, you know it's a rough neighborhood when two guys dressed like we are don't even rate on the locals radar.

"Wanna draw straws to see who goes in first? Normally, I would have ran us inside, but I'm too young to get Hepatitis."

 

[Eddie Brock]

"Alrighty," I say as I polish off the last of the burger. I bend down and stretch. Green Arrow shoots me a slightly annoyed look. "Just give me a sec, I like to limber up after I eat. I don't really feel like pulling a hamstring while I'm going Mach 2."

I pop back up. "Let's do it!"

Seconds later, Green Arrow and I are in front of the apartment building that Trickster lives in. Jeez, he wasn't just whistling Dixie when he said this neighborhood was bad. Seriously, you know it's a rough neighborhood when two guys dressed like we are don't even rate on the locals radar.

"Wanna draw straws to see who goes in first? Normally, I would have ran us inside, but I'm too young to get Hepatitis."

The Triangle - named for its geography, Weisinger and Papp Streets run south to north in a big V shape - is one of the roughest places in Star City. At its best, it's filthy and ridden with junkies and the homeless. At it's worst, it can rival Metropolis' Suicide Slums or any part of Gotham. The territory is very loosely divided by various factions of Star City's organized crime, and territorial aggression is common.

The Flash jokes, but he needs to be concerned about a lot more than just disease around here.

"The apartment number was for the third floor. Follow me closely," I instruct. Most police officers wouldn't dare enter one of these buildings alone. God knows what scum is hiding in here. Luckily, I'm not going unarmed, and I have the advantage of someone as fast as Flash watching my back.

I load my bow and kick in the front door. The building is predictably dirty and grimy. A homeless man sits on the floor next to the stairs. He's so whacked out of his mind that Flash and I don't even register to him. I lead Flash to the stairs carefully. Somewhere in the building, I can hear a baby crying. I make my way slowly up the stairs, bow always ready for anything.

 

[Byrd Man]

The Triangle - named for its geography, Weisinger and Papp Streets run south to north in a big V shape - is one of the roughest places in Star City. At its best, it's filthy and ridden with junkies and the homeless. At it's worst, it can rival Metropolis' Suicide Slums or any part of Gotham. The territory is very loosely divided by various factions of Star City's organized crime, and territorial aggression is common.

The Flash jokes, but he needs to be concerned about a lot more than just disease around here.

"The apartment number was for the third floor. Follow me closely," I instruct. Most police officers wouldn't dare enter one of these buildings alone. God knows what scum is hiding in here. Luckily, I'm not going unarmed, and I have the advantage of someone as fast as Flash watching my back.

I load my bow and kick in the front door. The building is predictably dirty and grimy. A homeless man sits on the floor next to the stairs. He's so whacked out of his mind that Flash and I don't even register to him. I lead Flash to the stairs carefully. Somewhere in the building, I can hear a baby crying. I make my way slowly up the stairs, bow always ready for anything.

I follow Green Arrow up a rickety flight of steps. With each step I take, I pray that the stairs won't give out.

"'I think this building should be condemned. There's serious metal fatigue in all the load-bearing members, the wiring is substandard, it's completely inadequate for our power needs, and the neighborhood is like a demilitarized zone.'"

Green Arrow stops on the steps and shoots me a quizzical look. I shrug.

"Sorry. I thought a Ghostbusters quote would lighten the mood."

We continue up the steps in silence. At the third floor landing Green Arrow holds his bow and arrow out in front of him as he approaches the door.

"Let's go on three."

"One...."

"Two...."

"Three!"

Green Arrow practically knocks the door off its hinges with his big boot. He leads the way into the apartment. To say it's dirty is an understatement. Remember that guy from Peanuts named Pigpen? The dirty kid who always had a cloud of dust around him? This is what I always imagined Pigpen's house looking like.

"You cheated!" A hollow voice rings out from a speaker on the living room coffee table. Great, another dead-end.

"Give it up, Walker. We'll find you eventually. You can't run forever!"

"Who says I want to run, you dumbasses? It's not about riddles, cops, or airplanes. It's about my revenge. I've placed thirty bombs through the city. All of them hidden. The one bomb I'll tell you the location to? It's strapped to me inside City Hall. You have only two minutes, Flash. What will it be? Save City Hall and the mayor and watch the rest of the city go sky high? Or will you let me send my message while you save the rest of the city?"

The speaker goes dead. I turn to Green Arrow.

"We have to split up again. I'll run you to City Hall while I take care of the other bombs through the city. Got it? Good!"

I kick it into high-gear, grabbing Green Arrow and dropping him off inside City Hall in the blink of an eye. I race through the streets, going as fast as I can to find those bombs.

 

[Eddie Brock]

I follow Green Arrow up a rickety flight of steps. With each step I take, I pray that the stairs won't give out.

"'I think this building should be condemned. There's serious metal fatigue in all the load-bearing members, the wiring is substandard, it's completely inadequate for our power needs, and the neighborhood is like a demilitarized zone.'"

Green Arrow stops on the steps and shoots me a quizzical look. I shrug.

"Sorry. I thought a Ghostbusters quote would lighten the mood."

We continue up the steps in silence. At the third floor landing Green Arrow holds his bow and arrow out in front of him as he approaches the door.

"Let's go on three."

"One...."

"Two...."

"Three!"

Green Arrow practically knocks the door off its hinges with his big boot. He leads the way into the apartment. To say it's dirty is an understatement. Remember that guy from Peanuts named Pigpen? The dirty kid who always had a cloud of dust around him? This is what I always imagined Pigpen's house looking like.

"You cheated!" A hollow voice rings out from a speaker on the living room coffee table. Great, another dead-end.

"Give it up, Walker. We'll find you eventually. You can't run forever!"

"Who says I want to run, you dumbasses? It's not about riddles, cops, or airplanes. It's about my revenge. I've placed thirty bombs through the city. All of them hidden. The one bomb I'll tell you the location to? It's strapped to me inside City Hall. You have only two minutes, Flash. What will it be? Save City Hall and the mayor and watch the rest of the city go sky high? Or will you let me send my message while you save the rest of the city?"

The speaker goes dead. I turn to Green Arrow.

"We have to split up again. I'll run you to City Hall while I take care of the other bombs through the city. Got it? Good!"

I kick it into high-gear, grabbing Green Arrow and dropping him off inside City Hall in the blink of an eye. I race through the streets, going as fast as I can to find those bombs.

I find myself in front of City Hall. Flash better be quick enough to find and dispose of all thirty bombs. Me? I'm ending this madness once and for all. Firing the grappling-hook arrow at the dome atop City Hall, I pull myself up the side of the building. I can't just walk in the front door. Trickster will be expecting that.

I haul myself up to the observation level of the dome. Panoramic windows allow visitors to have a great view of Star City. However, on this occasion, I'm on the outside looking in. Loosening a window at the hinges, I slip in and land quietly on the ledge which circles the inside of the dome. I lean over the railing and see the Trickster directly beneath me, in the center of the room.

Just as he promised, the Trickster has a bomb strapped to his chest. The detonator is in his hand. From this height, I could try to shoot the detonator out of his hand, but it's risky. If his finger so much as twitches, this whole building is going sky high. I need to get that detonator away from him.

I control my breathing, slowly my heart rate. That's it! This shot is going to require delicacy and precision, but - really - which one doesn't? Loading my bow carefully, I pray that the soft creaking isn't as loud as it seems. This is why I prefer the compound bow. It's quieter, more efficient. Trickster never looks up. I take a deep breath, take aim, release and fire.

Trickster's reaction immediately tells me that my shot was dead-on. As he collapses to the ground, I lower myself down using the grappling-hook arrow. Trickster kneels on the ground, both hands pressed against his neck. The detonator lays harmlessly at his feet. I softly kick it out of reach.

"That shot nicked your carotid artery," I explain, spotting the blood running down his neck and seeping through the spaces between his fingers. "If you keep pressure on the wound long enough to receive medical attention, you'll live. If you let go, you'll bleed out in less than two minutes."

I reach into one of my pockets and pull out a gauze swab. I always keep a few on me, just in cause I'm badly injured in the line of duty. I toss the swab at Trickster.

"Use that. It'll help." I turn to the assembled crowd, who had been keeping their distance due to the bomb. "Somebody get the bomb squad and the paramedics in here right away." I retrieve my arrow, wiping off the blood.

All up to you, Flash.

 

[Batman]

The Earthman Jordan and Arkillo flank my sides as I lead the 500 some odd Green Lanterns into battle. We come on the battle's far flank and break through the front line, destroying as many of Hand's creatures as possible.

A emerald blade forms into my hand. I chop off an undead creature's head with ease. "Try to keep up, Jordan!"

The usually fearless Hal Jordan could only look to his field commander with a blank expression, noting how Sinestro had told him to do that in the midst of mauling a zombie-wannabe to shreds. For Hal, there was no matter of trying to keep up in battle - no, it was an entirely different battle for him. The struggle to grasp just what the hell was going on around him. Mere hours ago, he had been safely tucked away in a Coast City holding cell awaiting a sentencing. Now he was risking his life in the depths of space to fight beings that looked like they came straight out of a horror movie.

The glow of his ring turned a stark emerald, as he carried on the flightpath, shooting simple beams at any ugly dead thing that reared it's head. All the while managing to keep his cool, which surprised even the ex-pilot. "Keep up? With this? You've got to be freaking kidding me. I'm not Superman."

But before Sinestro could acknowledge the retort, or ask what a "Superman" was, a low rumble was heard in the distance. Nearly all 500 Green Lanterns actively fighting against the threat of Blackest Night seemed to pause, with silence, as the menace ahead began to show itself - It was Hand, but it wasn't. He was forming a construct of himself amidst another horde of Black Lanterns, the actual Black Lantern himself unseen in the darkness of space.

[BLACKOUT]"Green Lanterns of the fallen Sector Zero! You will heed my warning!"[/BLACKOUT]

Hand seemed to peer down at them with what Jordan could only describe as a look reminiscent of pure evil. As if the devil himself had possessed Black Hand into doing his bidding.

[BLACKOUT]"The souls of the living are not welcome here. Turn back, and you may be spared a slow and agonizing death."[/BLACKOUT]

Hal, Sinestro, and Arkillo lit up their rings with determination, noting the Black Lanterns that were closing in. "Not a chance, gruesome. We're taking you in."

Hand ignored Jordan's taunts, as he did not recognize the newly recruited Lantern, and turned his immediate attention towards Sinestro.

[BLACKOUT]"Thaal Sinestro. Come to see the prophecy reach it's ultimate climax, old friend?"[/BLACKOUT]

 

[Byrd Man]

I find myself in front of City Hall. Flash better be quick enough to find and dispose of all thirty bombs. Me? I'm ending this madness once and for all. Firing the grappling-hook arrow at the dome atop City Hall, I pull myself up the side of the building. I can't just walk in the front door. Trickster will be expecting that.

I haul myself up to the observation level of the dome. Panoramic windows allow visitors to have a great view of Star City. However, on this occasion, I'm on the outside looking in. Loosening a window at the hinges, I slip in and land quietly on the ledge which circles the inside of the dome. I lean over the railing and see the Trickster directly beneath me, in the center of the room.

Just as he promised, the Trickster has a bomb strapped to his chest. The detonator is in his hand. From this height, I could try to shoot the detonator out of his hand, but it's risky. If his finger so much as twitches, this whole building is going sky high. I need to get that detonator away from him.

I control my breathing, slowly my heart rate. That's it! This shot is going to require delicacy and precision, but - really - which one doesn't? Loading my bow carefully, I pray that the soft creaking isn't as loud as it seems. This is why I prefer the compound bow. It's quieter, more efficient. Trickster never looks up. I take a deep breath, take aim, release and fire.

Trickster's reaction immediately tells me that my shot was dead-on. As he collapses to the ground, I lower myself down using the grappling-hook arrow. Trickster kneels on the ground, both hands pressed against his neck. The detonator lays harmlessly at his feet. I softly kick it out of reach.

"That shot nicked your carotid artery," I explain, spotting the blood running down his neck and seeping through the spaces between his fingers. "If you keep pressure on the wound long enough to receive medical attention, you'll live. If you let go, you'll bleed out in less than two minutes."

I reach into one of my pockets and pull out a gauze swab. I always keep a few on me, just in cause I'm badly injured in the line of duty. I toss the swab at Trickster.

"Use that. It'll help." I turn to the assembled crowd, who had been keeping their distance due to the bomb. "Somebody get the bomb squad and the paramedics in here right away." I retrieve my arrow, wiping off the blood.

All up to you, Flash.

Later, at the Hall of Justice!....Err, I mean, on the streets of Star City. I'm tearing up the city, looking for Trickster's bombs. So far, no dice. Running up the side of a skyscraper, a thought occurs to me. So far, Trickster has terrorized parts of the city with a dense amount of people in them. The convention center, the library, airport, and hospital. So far, one landmark has remained out of harm's way. Grell Stadium, a combined football/baseball stadium and home to the Star City Shooters and Star City Sharks.

It's worth a shot. I race through the city and begin scouring the stadium at superspeed. A baseball game is in progress, the Shooters against the Keystone Kings. Kings up 3-1 in the top of the fifth. There's some good news. The people are frozen in place as I run around them looking for the bomb.

I stop dead in my tracks when I see what Trickster planted.

It's thirty bombs all tied together and rigged to blow. The bombs are hidden inside a boiler room at the bottom of the stadium. I can deal with that. What bothers me is that there's only thirty seconds left to disarm them. They're all tied together. I can't move them all!

Think, Bart, think! What would MacGuyver do? Okay, first I'll need a DVD case, a lemon wedge, and some salt....okay, bad example. Think, what would James Bond do?...I don't have a gun or ***** Galore....heh, ***** Galore. FOCUS! Okay, all these bombs are tied together. You disarm the main one, then you prevent the chain reaction from happening.

Okay, which one is the main one? Maybe it's the big one with the timer that now reads 00:20

CRAP!

I rush over to the bomb and look it over. It's not as complex as the one I tried to disarm at the police convention. Only three wires. Pink, white, and black. Crap! Where is the red wire?! Think about Trickster for a second, this is a guy who deals in deception.

00:15

THINK! THINK! THINK!

00:10

You're not thinking! You just let five seconds go by! Which wire is it?

00:05

I've got a pink wire and a white wire.

00:04

To make pink, you take white and....

00:03

RED! It's another one of his trick questions.

00:02

Here goes nothing! I hold my breath and yank the pink and white wires out.

00:01

I throw my hands up over my face and prepare for the worst. After a few seconds without having my guts blow halfway to Coast City, I peek out of my hands at the bombs.

00:01

"Oh, thank you, Jesus! It's Flash 1, Bomb 0!"

I sigh in relief and take off again. After a few seconds, I come to a stop in City Hall where Green Arrow and the cops have Trickster pinned on the ground.

"I found the bombs and managed to disarm them. From what I gather, City Hall was not blown into little bitty bits, either."

 

[Byrd Man]

The usually fearless Hal Jordan could only look to his field commander with a blank expression, noting how Sinestro had told him to do that in the midst of mauling a zombie-wannabe to shreds. For Hal, there was no matter of trying to keep up in battle - no, it was an entirely different battle for him. The struggle to grasp just what the hell was going on around him. Mere hours ago, he had been safely tucked away in a Coast City holding cell awaiting a sentencing. Now he was risking his life in the depths of space to fight beings that looked like they came straight out of a horror movie.

The glow of his ring turned a stark emerald, as he carried on the flightpath, shooting simple beams at any ugly dead thing that reared it's head. All the while managing to keep his cool, which surprised even the ex-pilot. "Keep up? With this? You've got to be freaking kidding me. I'm not Superman."

But before Sinestro could acknowledge the retort, or ask what a "Superman" was, a low rumble was heard in the distance. Nearly all 500 Green Lanterns actively fighting against the threat of Blackest Night seemed to pause, with silence, as the menace ahead began to show itself - It was Hand, but it wasn't. He was forming a construct of himself amidst another horde of Black Lanterns, the actual Black Lantern himself unseen in the darkness of space.

[BLACKOUT]"Green Lanterns of the fallen Sector Zero! You will heed my warning!"[/BLACKOUT]

Hand seemed to peer down at them with what Jordan could only describe as a look reminiscent of pure evil. As if the devil himself had possessed Black Hand into doing his bidding.

[BLACKOUT]"The souls of the living are not welcome here. Turn back, and you may be spared a slow and agonizing death."[/BLACKOUT]

Hal, Sinestro, and Arkillo lit up their rings with determination, noting the Black Lanterns that were closing in. "Not a chance, gruesome. We're taking you in."

Hand ignored Jordan's taunts, as he did not recognize the newly recruited Lantern, and turned his immediate attention towards Sinestro.

[BLACKOUT]"Thaal Sinestro. Come to see the prophecy reach it's ultimate climax, old friend?"[/BLACKOUT]

"I don't know what you've become, but you are not my friend, William Hand."

I thrust out with my emerald constructs, decapitating the undead Lanterns left and right. Arkillo and Jordan are to my left, to my right is Katma and the Earthling known as Rayner....but yet he speaks that he is Saint Walker. The blue ring on his finger could hold the answer to that.

The five of us fight off the Black Lanterns left and right, but more keep pouring into the fight with each passing second. Lanterns are firing and pawing at my arms as I fight them off. I can feel the fear starting to creep up into me. No, I can't feel fear, I can't.

"You poozers need some help?!"

Kilowog's massive form bowls the Lanterns over, making a path through the carnage. He helps us beat back the Lanterns until we have a comfortable cushion from their attacks. "The rest 'a us can hold these monsters off, you get up there and get to Hand! End it now!"

I nod thanks to Kilowog and turn to the group.

"You heard him. Let's go."

 

[Eddie Brock]

Here goes nothing! I hold my breath and yank the pink and white wires out.

00:01

I throw my hands up over my face and prepare for the worst. After a few seconds without having my guts blow halfway to Coast City, I peek out of my hands at the bombs.

00:01

"Oh, thank you, Jesus! It's Flash 1, Bomb 0!"

I sigh in relief and take off again. After a few seconds, I come to a stop in City Hall where Green Arrow and the cops have Trickster pinned on the ground.

"I found the bombs and managed to disarm them. From what I gather, City Hall was not blown into little bitty bits, either."

"Nope." I look over at the Trickster, who is currently being attended to by a medic. The cops stand nearby, ready to arrest him once his wound is stitched up. In all the mayhem, they haven't paid much attention to me. I think I might have Officer Fyers to thank for that. "Without his games and his technology, Trickster wasn't so tough after all."

I turn back to Flash.

"You've been immensely helpful. On behalf of Star City, you have my thanks."

I hold out my hand warmly.

 

[Byrd Man]

"Nope." I look over at the Trickster, who is currently being attended to by a medic. The cops stand nearby, ready to arrest him once his wound is stitched up. In all the mayhem, they haven't paid much attention to me. I think I might have Officer Fyers to thank for that. "Without his games and his technology, Trickster wasn't so tough after all."

I turn back to Flash.

"You've been immensely helpful. On behalf of Star City, you have my thanks."

I hold out my hand warmly.

"You don't have to thank me, dude," I say as I shake Green Arrow's hand. Suddenly, an idea occurs to me. "On second thought, if you do want to thank me just do me one favor...."

********
​

I stand against the wall, an apple poised on my head. Green Arrow stands on the other side of the room, an arrow pulled back into his bow and the string drawn tight.

"Make sure you hit it right, now. I don't want to be a Holy Flash...hehe, Holy Flash. You get it?"​

 

[Saved]

Red Hood​

Arkham Asylum​

Jason Todd kneels on the floor of his office as he sifts through his files, reorganizing them and taking inventory to be sure nothing is missing. He places the last few pages within an envelope and carefully adds them to one of the many stacks of sorted files on top of his desk. As Jason rises to his feet, he lets out a heavy sigh; exhausted from the tedious task. "Done..." he says wearily, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "****," he swears angrily. "They're all here. Every file, every numbered page all accounted for. Aside from the helmet, nothing else is missing. My computer wasn't even hacked!" ​

Jason drifts off into deep thought as he begins to review all of the facts inside his mind. Instantly, he begins drawing threads and connecting dots - formulating possible motives and building a list of possible suspects. Suddenly, a knock comees from the door to his office, breaking his concentration. The door slowly opens with a creak, and Doctor Harleen Quinzel steps inside. "Jason?" She asks thoughtfully. "You alright?"
"Yep," he says in a conflicted tone.
"Wow...you finished rather quickly," she says, smiling sensitively.
"Why, how long's it been?"
"Three hours."
"Huh...felt longer."
"Well?"
"...Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"No. Not a single thing is missing."​

Sort of...​

"How can you be sure?"
"Trust me," he snaps. "I've memorized every file...the MO of every lunatic in this nuthouse. It's all there, Harley. ALL of it." Harleen stares at him quietly for a moment, surprised by his outburst.
"Jason..." she starts, trying to soothe his rage. "They're not 'lunatics', they're-"
"I know, I know." He says, cutting her off midsentence. "They're mentally disturbed. Look, I'm just...I'm..."
"Distracted?"
"Somewhat, yes. Look, I'm sorry, Harley. It's just been a pretty...crazy time for me, that's all."
"That's putting it lightly," she grins. "A little over a month ago you were left for dead in a burning building a mile away from the circus you took me too for a date. Then you finally return one of my phone calls explaining to me that you need shots of epinephrine from the medical center here because you're secretly addicted." Jason looks up, turning to Harleen with a look of surprise.​

"Oh, you're still on that, huh?"
"It's not something I can just FORGET, Jason."
"Yeah," he says softly, looking to the floor. "You're right."
"Look, I know we all have secrets, but I'm worried about you. I mean, in this line of work, we see patterns - behaviors and actions that slowly turn into habits and then into obsessions. You know this just as well as I do. When you first started working here, everything seemed fine, but now it seems like everything's going haywire with you. It's as if all your problems are finally catching up with you, and the skeletons you've held up in your closet are finally breaking free." Harleen slowly walks over to Jason, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Jason," she says, her voice changing to a more empathetic tone. "I'm just trying to help you. I want to save you before you fall off that cliff into the abyss...an abyss you may never come back from."​

Jason places his hand ontop of Harleen's, turning toward her with a thoughtful smile. "Thanks, Harley," he tells her, his voice surprising honest. "But, believe me, everything's fine. I know it seems like everything's going to hell right now, but...you've got to trust me - there are things I can't tell you right now. You just have to trust me."
"...okay," she says reluctantly.
"Believe me, when the time's right, I'll tell you everything. I promise." The two stare at each other quietly for a few moments, working everything out without words.​

"So," Harley says, returning to the matter at hand. "If you don't think anything was stolen, why do you think someone broke in here?"
"Well, I've been reviewing all the possibilities in my head. Someone didn't break in here to steal anything, not necessarily. I think whoever came in here did it to send a message..."
"What kind of message?"
"Nothing good, Harley." Jason tells her ominously.
"Do you have any suspects in mind?"
"No...not yet."
"Well, did you piss anyone off recently? Maybe...maybe someone from your past?"
"Past..." Jason whispers as a spark ignites within his mind. "That's it."
"What? What's it?"
"Sorry, Harley, but I've got to go. There's someone I've got to see." Jason rises quickly from his seat, rushing toward the door.
"You're not going to do something stupid, are you?" She calls out to him as he steps out into the hall. "Leave this to the professionals, Jason!"
"Don't worry!" He calls back, his voice echoing down the long hallways of the asylum. "That's exactly what I'm going to do..."​

 

[sabetoonth]

Victor made his way home that night for the first time in a month, he had been going between work and the hospital without stopping at home or at the grocery store or anything. He took a quick glance down and his belly, it was starting to get a little flabby.

“Heh, the wonderous effects of vending machine food.” He put his breifcase down and sat on his bed. “She said ‘yes’.” The words disapated in the air but repeated in his mind over and over again. He mulled them over, he mulled over the whole day. From when he got up to when he arrived home with her there in the door way waiting for him.

He snapped out of it when he realized he had in fact fallen asleep and was dreaming about that day. He changed into new clothes, fixed himself coffee, and by the time he was out the door and got around to drinking it it was cold. The taste was abhorring, spitting it out he mused of all things he liked cold, coffee was not one of them, and he liked a great many things cold.

Arriving at work for the first time in three weeks was not as akward as he thought. He came in, put his things away at his desk and entered the cooled room with the cryonic projects. It was as if he had never took time off, everything was where he had left it. He ran his pale fingers across the tools, across the shell of the freeze gun. It was his baby, his legacy, his greatest creation. He looked over at his other invention, a cryonically cooling suit designed for desert combat, while in it the wearer could adjust the temperature to his liking and not feel the affects of the heat outside. Both crowning accheivements for Waynetech when they are showcased to the military next month.

Victor opened the tube that held the suit. The carbon bi weave nomex suit was build like a suit of armor, in fact that’s what it was. Cambat ready armor for desert combat. Kevlar undersuit, kevlar/ceramic plates acting as armor; hoses carrying coolant, at this prototype stage liquid nitrogen, all over the body and causing the cooling of the liquid nitro to cool the inside of the suit - regulated but the wearer using a wrist mounted onboard computer. Which either opens or closes the vents allowing more or less nitro through. The ceramic plates protected from becoming fragile by a coat of special glue to hold it together and keep it from getting too cold. The helmet was the last piece he would be working on, fully enclosing the head, with as much vision as possible, bullet proof glass maybe? He closed the tube and and decided to get to work, pulling everything from its place and setting them on his work table.

 

[Eddie Brock]

GREEN ARROW

The black-clad figure moved silently up the stairs. It was quieter than using an elevator, even if it meant walking all the way up to the penthouse. He was in no hurry. He had hours until sunrise, and this was only going to take a matter of minutes. Slip in, do the deed, slip out. Clean, quiet, efficient. Return to the Full House bar, collect payment.

Simple.

That's what the intruder thought as he picked the lock carefully. Every click seemed to be magnified in the night's silence. Biting his lip, the assailant continued on until the door swung open. Smiling to himself, the figure ducked into the shadows of the darkened penthouse.

The penthouse was laid out very openly. The living room and the kitchen were connected, with great views of Star City through the windows on the far wall. The intruder moved through the moonlight to the threshold of the bedroom. The occupant of the large four-post bed slept soundly, unaware of the break-in. Everything was falling into place.

The assailant took short, deliberate steps towards the bed. He reached into his trenchcoat and wrapped his fingers around the cold handle of his knife. Brandishing the weapon in the moonlight, the black-clad figure inched ever closer until...

CREEEEEEEEEAK.

***

The sound of the floorboard creaking wakes me up. However, I'm totally unprepared for what I see when I open my eyes. The silhouette of a man stands at the foot of my bed, dressed from head to toe in black. He shifts slightly, and I notice the light bouncing off something metallic in his hand. There's a brief moment of silence.

"CREAK."

The intruder makes a move, and I dodge out of reflex. Something whizzes past my ear and comes to a stop in my headboard. Looking out of the corner of my eye, I see that the unknown assailant just threw a knife at me - and only missed my ear by a matter of inches. As he makes a move for something else on his belt, I reach underneath my bed and find the pistol crossbow I keep under there.

I'm quicker on the draw than my attacker. Rattling off a quick shot, I watch as the crossbow bolt finds his shoulder. The intruder is momentarily stunned, and he stumbles out of my bedroom, dropping his gun as he does so. I throw off my covers and chase him into the living room, but he's already out the door.

"Son of a..."

If I want to catch him, I can't afford to stop to get suited up. So - in my boxers and an undershirt, wielding a pistol crossbow - I chase my would-be assassin down the stairs and out onto the dark Star City streets.
​

 

[Batman]

The sight of Gotham's suburban hills become a blur to me as I make my exit from the downtown area. The Batpod's low rumble engine serves as a constant point of focus, allowing me a methodical weave through oncoming traffic by instinct alone. I recognize every control through feel, every turn through sight - I'm becoming more used to it. More used to everything, infact, thanks in part to the new suit. The functionality has almost given me the feeling of a caged animal that's been unleashed. I could have taken that entire club apart, if I felt it would have been of any use to my mission. But I got what I was looking for, and after some choice words with Gotham's underworld "Wire", I've achieved so much more. For the first time, I feel as if I have a true grip to tighten around the throats of the city's lowlives.

And yet, it's still not enough to satisfy me. While I've learned that there are more than a few possible ways for me to exploit weaknesses in the Narrow Island drug trades, take down the smaller gangs, eliminate the East dealers, and corner some of the bigger families into a possible trap, I'm no closer to stopping the one man that's driven me this hard, and this far, towards stepping up my methods. Salvatore Maroni, the current head of the five families and the more ruthless of them all, between the alternatives. He's been cautious, and from what Matthews confessed, particularly paranoid in the weeks since his sons have been murdered. Makes it harder for me to pinpoint when exactly I can make a move on his empire - if that's even an option right now.

The more interesting news to come out of of tonight's siege, however, happens to originate from something I should have kept a closer eye on in the past few months. It seems that while Maroni's been making headway in devouring the Falcone family's divided territories, he and a few others have started to take some substantial heat from the District Attorney's office. Normally rendered ineffectual, their policies quickly changed whenever the city's newest DA was elected in a landslide vote. A recent Harvard graduate named...

Harvey Dent. As the name continues to run through my mind, I realize that this is the first I've truly payed attention to the idea that a Gotham District Attorney, or any of it's politicians, could truly be on the right side of the law. Though my skepticism remains strong that he could make a difference, much less that Dent could somehow remain incorruptible under the scrutiny, what little I've learned about him has left me intrigued. Oracle's been pulling files on him for the past few minutes. His mother died of cancer at an early age. His father, through suicide. Not necessarily the type of man you'd expect to wage a war against the mob. There's got to be something more to Dent than he's letting on.

Could he be an ally? Another thread for me to go out of my way for, certainly not. But just to have an inside contact through multiple channels, with unparalleled jurisdiction in comparison to Nygma...

Stepping down on the gas, causing The Batpod's engine to roar with life, I continue down the path towards the Batcave's southeast entrance. I'm getting way too ahead of myself. Partnerships with a District Attorney? Might aswell be considering Commissioner Gordon. I'm sure he'd make plenty of use out of that spotlight that Nygma painted up and used to nearly blow our cover. If I'm to ever keep myself ahead of the mob, I need to be more cautious. There's no room for any other mistakes in this, and I can't afford to have my trust misplaced. I'll just have to make due with what I have.

The Batpod cruises silently into the tunnel entrance just near the entrance to Waynetech's docking bay. No one's allowed on the premises during these hours, and there are plenty of silent alarms to tell me if there's been an intrusion well in advance of my usual arrival. Darkness consumes the vehicle, as I switch my cowl to the night-vision lenses. Still getting used to having my eyes exposed, for a change, but it keeps me from getting distracted. Too many readouts on the old cowl's digital output - it got tiring just to memorize the data.

Continuing a slower, steadier ride into the main terminal, I pry my fingers off of the ignition and allow the engine to die down. By the time it has, I'm ascending to ground-level, where the familiar sound of fluttering bat wings awaits me. I prepare myself for Alfred's usual sarcastic greeting whenever he's standing outside of the pod's hangar, but to my surprise, I don't find him there. "Alfred?"

No answer. Getting off of the vehicle, I tap the module that begins an inspection process for The Batpod's sensors and make my way into the central Cavern. Strangely empty, aswell. I suppose I shouldn't be too concerned, given there could be a variety of explanations... but it's not like Alfred. If something had happened with Dick, or we had an unexpected visitor show up in the Tower, he would have phoned or texted me while I was out. Unless he had plans of his own...

Deciding to ease myself of the impending worry, I make my way to the Batcomputer's mapping grid to begin some follow-up tests. But I barely make it through the opening logo's animation before I hear a peculiar sound, coming from the Cave's trophy room - a borough of the caverns that I've used to store Phillip Wayne's bizarre art collection. My senses become focused on the area, as I look back and instinctively prepare a batarang. That didn't sound normal. It sounded like the click of...

Instantaneously, I move forward with a certain haste, a million scenarios running through my mind. But I know exactly what that sound was, and it sure as hell concerns me.

A gunshot blast. What...

Alfred slides open the door to the room, just in time for me to narrowly throw the weapon between his eyes. I stop myself, as he shrieks, and raises his weapon, which is still smoking from the earlier shot. "Good heavens! Neither of you know how to bloody knock?!"

Alleviating me of any sense of danger, I place the weapon back into my belt.

"I heard a shot. Are you okay?"

He nods, brushing off the shoulder of his jacket.

"I'm quite alright, sir. Forgive me, I was just given quite a start. It seems that you'll be having a vistor."

My eyebrow rises. "Upstairs, you mean."

"No, I meant in there. Your uninvited guest surprised me in the Trophy Room. Seems that he's acquired your knack for showing up when one least expects. Not to mention your brash-..."

Walking past him, I sneer. Those traits can only describe one other man I know who'd have the appropriate knowledge of this place. "I think I know who you're talking about. Put the gun away, Alfred."

I can hear him sigh as he turns to leave.

"Of course. If you think it's safe, that is..."

Entering the trophy room, I make sure to close the door behind me. Whenever I've come into contact with our current guest, he usually wants me to leave whatever information I've gathered in the strictest confidence imaginable. It's a mutual understanding that we've shared for far too long.

"Alright, we're alone for the moment. What is this about..."

"Jason?"