The New Ultimate DC RPG

[Byrd Man]

​

Keystone City, Kansas

Ralph drives us across the river into Keystone City and to the swanky house of one Mark Mardon. TV weatherman who just so happens to be guilty of fratricide. Yep, that's a word. Go ahead and google it, I'll wait while you do......see, told ya. For those of you too lazy to look the word up, fratricide is basically murdering your brother. That's what Ralph thinks Mark did. His theory is that Mark murdered his scientist brother to steal an invention, a device that can change the weather. In order to prove his theory, Ralph is breaking into Mark Mardon's house.

"Have I told you how crazy this is?" I ask my best friend as he attempts to pick the lock on the front door.

"Yeah, about a dozen times since we left your house."

"Well, it is. Mardon could come back here any minute!"

"It's lunch time. He's too busy giving the five-day forcast on the 12 o'clock news."

"What about breaking and entering? You majored in criminal justice, so I'm assuming you know it's a felony?!"

"Bart. Calm down, I'll take care of it."

The lock snaps open and Ralph smiles. He swings the door open and motions for me to follow him in.

"Jackpot, buddy boy."
​

****​

KSKC News Studios

Mark Mardon sat in a chair backstage, his eyes closed as the make-up artist applied powder to his cheeks.

"Make sure you get my nose good, honey. I've been getting fan-mail from women, saying my nose looks too big on camera."

"Yes, sir."

Suddenly, Mardon's hip began to buzz. Looking down at the device on his hip, he scowled. The silent alarm he'd put in his house had just been activated.

"Do you know where the news director is?"

"No, sir."

"Get him to come here. I might need to run home. I'm starting to feel ill."

"But you look fine, Mark."

"It's Mister Mardon to you, and find Harry would you?"

The make-up girl nodded and jogged away for the news director. Mardon pulled himself out the chair and walked to his office. Wiping the half-applied make-up off his face, he pulled a metallic briefcase out of his desk. Popping it open, he looked down at the silver device sitting inside the case.​

 

[Batman]

"We're heading towards the finish line, boys."

The Joker relaxed at the farthest end of his own personal dressing room, an opened cellphone propped up infront of him. He was applying the finishing touches to his visage, running his fingers along his face while evening the ends of the blacks and reds that were out of place. But while the clown was sitting comfortably in his makeup chair, the many members of his inner-circle, The Freakshow, were scattered all across Gotham City. He had been hard at work putting together the pieces of an intricate puzzle of which only he knew the extent, spending days at a time locked away to work on one of his many masterpieces, leaving his Brigade of the Bizarre almost completely in the dark.

Until tonight. With Firebug stationed outside of Gotham's St. Paul Cathedral, Ragdoll cautiously approaching the popular Ezio's restaurant in the city's corner of Little Sicily, the mysteriously weakened Azrael waiting on the rooftop across from a sidewalk butcher's deli called Zurkov's, and the always loyal Killer Croc climbing his way from the sewers to the surface beneath Ace Chemical Plant, The Joker's overall scheme was about to be set in motion in a big, bad way.

He could barely contain his own excitement, placing his hands together tightly as he gave his mirror's reflection a widened grin. "Now, I don't have to remind you of why you're about to do this. But I can tell you're all a little on edge. In the short time that we've been living here, you've all learned about how Gotham's a fertile, fragile place just waiting for a ripened plucking. It's droll day-to-day way of life getting in the way of the little things. The important things. But tonight, we're going to change that."

Sitting back in his chair, The Joker threw his feet up against a table and placed his hands behind his head. "Just think of all the good we're about to do for this rotten little skank of a town. All the dirtiness that we're going to rip away from the seams that're holding these little ants called people together. Why, we're going to eliminate the number one cause of decay in this society! And it's called... 'the delusion of sanity'."

Firebug held up a wired control, watching from inside the third floor of the building opposite to the church, as The Joker's words continued through the other end of the line.

"These people, these... tasteless, tactless, self-righteous hypocrites. They all give the people like us a common name for our beliefs. They label us as 'insane', or 'demented', deeming us unworthy of interacting with our fellow human being in today's social climate. They want us locked up and treated like animals. The audacity of it is, they all turn right around and accept the philosophies of men and women whose messages claim are for the benefit of hope, when they are mere repetition."

Ragdoll, armed only with a pair of wire cutters and a flashlight, ripped into the wiring panel of Ezio's power supply and began to cut through them, his earpiece still echoed to the clown prince's message.

"People like God. People like Presidents. Government officials. Teachers, lawyers, police officers, priests, celebrities... the list goes on of the sorry souls that are tasked with leading these lazy idiots out of whatever problems they may face. Mankind has been led off of it's course, my friends. Relying not on themselves, but instead relying on the person with the loudest voice. They forget that they were all gifted with the universe's greatest, most complex and simplistic tool imaginable."

Azrael, carrying a leather bag full of plastic explosives, leaps off of the rooftop and onto the street below. He slowly approaches the glass window of the butcher's deli, seeing his own masked reflection in it. Angered by what he sees, he grabs the bag off of his shoulder and swings it, letting it smash it through the glass and roll onto the middle of the floor inside. He, too, is listening to The Joker's rant.

"Their minds. For that reason, among many others, I have decided that it's past time to continue allowing Gotham City to stand. It exists only as a prime example of how this world's collective stupidity and hindering fears can culminate into a singular unit. A unit of which I have tasked each and every one of you with burning down, piece by piece."

Killer Croc smashes through the front entrance of the Chemical Plant, ripping through each and every security guard that he comes across until he reaches the main boiler room. Taking each lever that he can see, the massive reptile man raises the pressurization level tenfold. Until alarms begin to sound off, and the room becomes red, reaching critical levels of heat. Croc only growls, sick of the noise as he focuses only on the voice of his master.

"It may seem like you're only doing a bit job tonight, but mark my words. Each one of the establishments that you're taking out will inevitably cause a ripple effect, the likes of which Gotham City has never even seen. And there's going to be a delicious set of consequences for each denizen of this festering cesspool to face. Oh yes, by the end of this night, history will have been made. All thanks to you..."

The Joker's voice cracked into a chuckle, holding the phone close to his mouth. "And especially thanks to me."

Hearing that phrase, and knowing it was the signal they were waiting for, each of the four members of The Freakshow set off their individual phases of the operation.

For Firebug, it was pressing the button that would ignite a series of carefully placed gasoline lines, creating a circle of fire that would engulf the Cathedral. Priests, nuns, and disciples of Christ visiting for the evening mass are left helplessly trapped, caught in a unstoppable blaze.

For Ragdoll, it was cutting the gas line to the stoves in Ezio's kitchen area while they were still cooking, sending a massive fireball into a packed restaurant full of innocent patrons, burning them all alive in a matter of seconds. Fire marshals would not reach the scene until well over five minutes later, when there was nothing left but a blaze covering debris.

For Azrael, it was getting to cover as quickly as he could, running as far away from the Deli as possible and retreating into the shadows. Minutes later, the establishment was reduced to mere rubble, caught in an explosion so massive that an entire block of the area was left burning and broken, leaving countless dead.

And for Croc, it was utilizing his great strength to topple over multiple vats of dangerous chemicals, the fumes of which were already mixing together as the building's furnace became hotter by the minute. Croc ran out of the back door just as the fumes caught, and leaped into the sewers upon watching the building's roof collapse and crumble.

The Joker felt all of it, hearing the blasts from outside of his room just as clearly as he could hear the thoughts of all of his followers. He had manipulated each and every one of their minds into committing these gruesome acts tonight, and he wasn't about to stop there. Gotham would soon see the error of it's ways and repent, for their collective society was about to be sent into a frenzy.

For there was a purpose to his method. Each establishment that had been attacked was owned by an associate of the mob - the Cathedral's property belonged to the Maroni family. Ezio's was an establishment co-founded by Mario Falcone. The butcher's deli had belonged to the brother of The Chechen. And the Ace Chemical Plant was owned by the once-thriving Valestra Crime Family.

"And to think,", The Joker mused, closing the phone and staring back into his reflection with a sinister gleam in his eye.

"I didn't even have to lift a finger."

"Hahahahahahaha!"

As Gotham City entered a black dawn, the clown prince's head shot back, and entered a fit of uncontrollable laughter that would last for hours.

The city was practically his already.

 

[Bounce]

“See, this is the place you want to be if you want to see a Kryptonian, kid,” Mxyzptlk stated beside the boy, taking the cigar and tapping more of the ash into the tray balanced on the Krypto-statue’s nose. “I’ll warn you... he’s a bit of a disappointment in person though. The myth is so much larger than the man.”

Turning slowly atop the roof where the pair stood, the child tried to take in the new surroundings. It was a place unlike any he had ever been in his life. This was a planet. The sky more magnificent than he’d imagined from his stories. The horizon more stunning than father’s words could have ever portrayed. But... where were the crystals? The shuttles filling the sky like birds? “This is Krypton?” the child inquired finally. It was a magnificent thing to behold, a world, but it fell decidedly short of what he’d imagined.

“Krypton?” the impish figure hovering in the air scoffingly echoed. Waving the cigar in the air, Mxyzptlk made a grandiose gesture as though taking in all of the cityscape around them. “Kid, this is Metropolis. Home of Superman.”

If the name was supposed to register with the boy, it clearly missed the mark. “Who?” Lor asked in clear confusion, turning away from the cityscape to regard the hovering figure of Mxyzptlk again. Walking over to the imp, the child ducked underneath him as he tried to sort out a question that had been on his mind ever since he’d seen the imp. “How are you doing that?” the boy inquired curiously. Sitting down on the rooftop, Lor crossed his legs in an obvious attempt to mimic the imp.

Snapping his fingers, Mxyzptlk tried to get the child’s attention back to where he thought it needed to be. “Try and stay with me, kid. I’m talking about Superman. You know, big blue boy scout? Last Son of Krypton? Any of this ringing a bell?” With an exasperated sigh, the imp finally snapped his fingers a second time. When he did, Lor felt his clothing shift. “Looks like that,” the imp stated, pointing down at the youth. Looking down, the boy was astonished to find himself wearing a different outfit altogether. The body and legs were blue, with red boots and red...

“Why is the underwear on the outside?” Lor asked quizzically, picking at the the shorts which were seemingly worn over the blue trousers. Feeling something on his back, the child craned his neck to look back over his shoulder and saw a red cape flowing off his back.

“The cape is a little ostentatious-like, but I think that giant ‘S’ for ‘Superman’ is supposed to pull your attention away from it,” Mxyzptlk noted, taking another puff on his cigar.

The comment drew Lor’s eyes to the crest emblazoned on the front of the shirt. It was one of several symbols Non and his mother had taught him. “It doesn’t stand for ‘superman’,” the child countered sharply. Glancing up at the imp, the boy declared, “It means hope,”

Flicking ash at the boy in a dismissive gesture, the imp demanded, “Why would an ‘S’ stand for hope?”

Lor just scowled with a look of utter exasperation. “Duh, it’s not an ‘S’!” the boy quipped, as though everyone who was everyone knew these things. Or should know them. Looking Mxyzptlk in the eye, the child just nodded as though to say that was that. Then he realized that he was looking the imp in the eye and peeked down. The roof was about a foot underneath where he now hovered in the air. “Oh, that’s how you do it,” the child declared simply, having now found the answer to his earlier question. It was just like being back in the Phantom Zone, which didn't make sense because his parents had told them that 'reality' was nothing like his home in the ether.

When he turned to look back at Mxyzptlk, the child saw the cigar drop out of the imp’s mouth in surprise. “But he’s the las... and you’re, you’re...” the imp stammered at a loss for a moment. Reaching into his tunic finally, the imp brought out a map which he unfolded and laid out on his lap. “I didn’t think that dimensional shift had been to the right... Was it a left at the ley line?”

Leaning to one side in order to inspect the map for a moment, Lor quickly grew bored as Mxyzptlk became focused on sorting out just where they were. It didn’t make sense to him. Mxyzptlk obviously knew this place enough to have brought them here. Raising himself up in the air, the boy uncrossed his legs and allowed them to casually fall beneath him. It wasn't what he had imagined a world to be, and it wasn't Krypton, but it was breathtaking nonetheless. Large, faun brown eyes traced the lines of every skyscraper, followed the path of the objects moving below, and marveled at the people. “What’s this place called again?” the boy asked curiously.

“Metropolis,” the imp answered absently, his focus still on the map which he turned from side to side as though struggling to get his bearings.

Drifting on the air, the child circled around to peek over the imp's shoulder at the map as he asked, “And a Kryptonian lives here?”

The imp waved the boy off, growing irritated at the sudden deluge of inquiries. “Superman,” he answered tersely.

"That's not a Kryptonian name," Lor noted quietly, landing on the roof beside the statue of Krypto. The funny man still had not explained just what had happened to his dog. “And your name is Mister Mix-pickle-tick,” the boy asked, taking a second attempt at what he still found to be a silly name.

“Mxyzptlk!”

Lor just nodded absently, the elementary school grade version of whatever dude, as he mulled the oddly constructed name around in his mind. “And what is it that I’m not supposed to say again?” the boy ventured.

“Kltpzyxm, but I have to... oh for pete's sake,” Mxyzptlk managed, before the imp winked out of existence. At the same time, Lor's clothing returned to the black Kryptonian tunic and the statute of the dog returned to life. Head down, Krypto pawed at its nose and began to sneeze. After several seconds, the animal just shook its head and padded over beside the young boy. Though the two of them had returned to normal, it appeared as though they were left behind on this world known as 'Metropolis'.

 

[Byrd Man]

IC:

​

"People are strange when you're a stranger, faces look ugly when you're alone. Women seem wicked when you're unwanted, streets are uneven when you're down."I kill the singing, continuing to hum the song as I walk through the dark streets of Gotham. Things are strange right now, to say the least. Add to the mess with Holiday, four firebombs went off throughout the city last night. The targets were all mob-related. It doesn't fit Holiday's pattern, and it's definitely not Batman's style.

The Holiday case is slowly consuming me. The 4th of July is in a few days, and Holiday will pick off what could be his last victim if I don't stop him. That's why I'm here, at the rundown flop-house to meet an informant.

Well, it's not really an informant.

"Wake up, Jack," I say as I press the barrel of my gun to the side of the man's head. After the death of Carl Grissom, Jack Napier is a man without a country. He's been making ends meet by doing light strong-arm for work the Falcones. It's nowhere near what he made with Grissom, but the pay puts him up in these oh so modest surroundings.

"Who the **** are you?" The mob arm-breaker sneers. "What's wrong with your face?"

"Remember how your mom always said if you made funny faces, your face would get stuck like that? Mine did and had to be surgically removed."

"What do you want?"

"Poppa Carl is dead, ditto on Chuckie Sol. Buzz Bronski has as much brains as my left shoe, so you're the only real Valestra Family member left who has half a brain."

"Seeing as how you have a gun pointed at my head, I eagerly await your first question."

"Spill what you know about that corrupt narco squad O'Hara used to run."

"I don't know much. Drugs was never my forte. I'm a strong-arm guy."

"What a shock."

"Anyway, all I know is that every so often a few cops would come by Grissom's place and shake him down. He paid so much to the cops, they looked the other way when he pushed drugs. They also acted as enforcers. Anybody wouldn't pay on a debt, the cops would bust them. Any new guys try to set up shop, they'd bust them. I heard that's how White Christmas started. Someone ran afoul of the powers that be so the cops set them up with all that powder."

"Names. Which cops came by to shake Grissom down?"

"Heh. All the ones that run the show, or used to. Flass, Essen, Gordon. How about that? You take bribes from crooks and become the police commissioner. What a country."

"What about O'Hara? John Grayson?"

"John Grayson? The cop who Batman murdered? Never seen him or O'Hara drop by."

"Any other cops ever come by?"

"Yeah, one other time. A few days before the White Christmas mess, Flass brought a cop with him when he got the pay-off from Grissom. Said he was new to Narco. He was a sergeant or something. Kind of a big guy. He was fat, but tall and kinda built."

"What was his name?"

"I can't remember. That was the only time I saw him."

So, days before the White Christmas bust, Flass brings in an unidentified sergeant to help shake down Grissom. I don't want to believe it, but Nygma's theory that it's a cop is starting to make sense. Looks like I need to take a trip downstairs to the record room. If that sergeant spent any time with Admin Narco, he's on paper somewhere.

"Anything else?" Napier asks.

"Yeah, who killed Grissom?"

Napier's face goes white. He swallows hard, and for the first time I see this cold-blooded killer get scared. "I...I don't know. I swear."

"Alright, Jack. I'm done."

"I'd like to run into you later, when you don't have that gun in your hand."

"Yeah, well, I like to keep one in the chamber in case you're wondering. Be seeing you, Jack."
Pulling the gun away and holstering it, I disappear into the shadows.

"When you're strange, faces come out of the rain.
When you're strange, no one remembers your name.
When you're strange When you're strange. When you're strange"

 

[Spike_x1]

Lex Luthor

I run the calculations again and again, pencil scratching furiously at my notepad. Considering how complicated the equations are, most would trust a computer to do the number-crunching. Indeed, my own L-Soft AI can run calculations like this several thousand times faster than a human can. However, I prefer doing it by hand, if only because it keeps things in perspective to me.

Scenario 1: The Manhattan Project goes off without a hitch. Zero military retaliation, first strike removes superhuman intervention. Completion time, seven months. Global population decreased by only 15%.

Scenario 2: Zero military retaliation, first strike does not remove superhuman intervention. Completion time, three years. Global population decreased by 47%.

Scenario 3: Pockets of military resistance, first strike removes Priority Target Alpha but not other superhuman threats. Completion time, two years, five months. Global population decreased by 66%.

Scenario 4: First strike removes all superhuman threats except Priority Target Alpha.

Completion time, not applicable.

Global population decreased by 100%.

Given his observed behavior when pressed, coupled with his incredible power, I firmly believe that the near-completion of the Manhattan Project will drive him over the edge. While most see him as a protecting angel, I can already see the potential for him to be an angry and destructive god, one that would in time bring about the end if not removed from the equation. If he is not removed in the first wave, he will almost assuredly destroy the world himself.

The numbers only back up what I have said for months: in order for the world to truly change, Superman has to die.

Having Mr. Majestic under my control will go a long way to seeing that through, but I do not believe for a moment that it will be enough. The recent actions of the Flash has shown me that there is already a loose confederacy forming among the 'super-heroes,' one that is all but guaranteed to come to each other's aid in need.

Perhaps it is time to consider fully utilizing the Society's connections, and begin forming a confederacy of my own.

"Mr. Luthor, sir," L-Soft informs me. "we have just received a call requesting a meeting with you. Two reporters from the Daily Planet wish to hear your opinion on the incident at the museum."
"Which reporters?"

"Lois Lane and Clark Kent."

I smile. I always loved Miss Lane's writing, starry-eyed idealism and atrocious grammar aside. Perhaps going a few rounds with Perry White's bulldogs will keep me entertained for a while.

"Request granted. Have them escorted to me as soon as they arrive. And put in a call for some catering, as well. I feel like some sushi to go along with their interview."
​

With surprising speed and efficiency, Lois and I are quickly escorted up LexCorps Towers and I can't help but be awestruck by the technology around me, and I've been to advanced alien worlds. I guess it's just hard to believe that Lex has come so far since we knew each other as kids.

Lois, however, is completely unfazed. She's got her game face on.

"If you'll step right this way, please," the receptionist tells us as she gestures to the large doors leading into Luthor's office. At the end of the room, we can see Lex standing and looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows. As we approach his desk with two chairs waiting for us in front of it, Lois nudges me. "Some view, huh?" she whispers, indicating the sight of Metropolis through Lex's office windows.

"I've seen better," I reply.

Before we arrive at his desk, Lex turns around to face us with a welcoming smile. What a nice man.

 

[Eddie Brock]

GREEN ARROW

"These men were Yakuza," Bonnie explains as she rubs her wrists where they had been tied.

I arch an eyebrow. "You don't seem like the type to get wrapped up with the Japanese mafia," I remark.

"I wasn't. My father was," she explains. One of the men begins to groan, and she looks to me. "Can we go somewhere to discuss this?"

I nod. She's right. We better get out of here before these guys start stirring. One round of them is more than enough for me.

***

Taking Bonnie to an abandoned roof a few blocks away, I don't need to press her to continue her story. She begins right away by saying, "My father was a great man, but he suffered from poor judgment at times. He made deals with the wrong kind of people." She turns to face me. "He owed a lot of money to the Yakuza."

I sling my bow over my shoulder as I listen.

"He died before his debt could be repaid, so the Yakuza came to me," Bonnie continues. "They said that his debt fell on me. They began pressuring me to pay up, but I simply didn't have the money." At this, Bonnie turns away.

After a moment of quietness, I remark, "There's more, isn't there?"

When Bonnie looks at me again, I can see tears in her eyes. "I had a son. Robert. He was a good boy, but he was very sick." I hang my head. It's going to be one of those kinds of stories. "The doctors said they couldn't do anything more for him. They told me about a new treatment that was still in the early stages. There were no guarantees, but it was our only option left."

Bonnie pauses to gather herself.

"The treatment was going to be very expensive, so I saved every penny that I could," she explains. I have a feeling I know where this is going. "It wasn't easy, but I was making progress. Then, the Yakuza came again. They said that they were done waiting." She stares at me, and the tears now are as bitter as they are sad. "They forced me to turn over my savings."

"And Robert?" I ask, afraid of the truth.

"He battled as long as he could," she says with a finality that cuts me to the core. I just met this woman, but her pain is palpable. "And the Yakuza said that I still owed, that my debt had not been filled. Even when I explained that I had no money left, they wouldn't stop."

"And that's what tonight was about? To scare you into paying?"

Bonnie hesitates. "Not entirely," she answers avoidingly. "Lately, I've let them know that they can't push me around. I've started fighting back, and I think they were going to make me stop."

I fold my arms. She's strong, that's for sure. "Well, they kidnapped you, and they were probably going to kill you," I say, "So you either need to pay them or find some way to get them off your back."

"I can't pay them!" Bonnie replies exasperatedly. "And if I run, they'll just find me. Star City isn't the only place that has Yakuza."

"I can find you somewhere safe to hide for now," I offer. After hearing her story, I have to help her somehow. "I'll go after the Yakuza and convince them that you're not worth their time."

Bonnie bows her head. "That's very kind of you, but that's not what I had in mind." She looks up at me with determination. "This is my fight, and I want to take it to them. I want you to train me."

If the situation weren't so serious, I'd allow myself to laugh. "Absolutely not. I'm not letting you put yourself in danger."

"At school in Japan, I studied kyudo."

Kyudo - the Japanese art of archery. A girl after my own heart.

"That's why I think you can help me," Bonnie explains. "I have the basic skills, and with your tutelage, I can develop them into something more." Before I can even consider this, she adds, "You have a fight of your own, don't you? Some reason you do this?"

Amazing. She doesn't even know me, and she sees right through me.

"Well, this is my fight. Can you understand that? Can you understand why I need to do this for Robert? For myself?"

Silence. That's all I can offer is silence. God help me, I'm considering this. What kind of hero would I be if I let someone else step into the line of fire? And yet, there's something about this Bonnie King. A quiet confidence, an unwavering determination. She reminds me of...me. I understand her desire for justice, and I understand her need to do it herself.

"Right now, we need to get you somewhere where the Yakuza won't find you," I state finally. "We can discuss the rest later."
​

 

[Byrd Man]

Mark Mardon's Home
Keystone City, KS​

Alright, for those you keeping score, me and my best friend, Ralph Dibny, have commited felony B&E to find evidence that proves TV weatherman Mark Mardon murdered his brother Clyde.​

"Bedroom is clean," Ralph announces as he comes out of the second-story room. "Although dude has a serious porn collection. Seems to have a thing for girls with braces."​

"Yikes. Coulda went all day without hearing that."​

I look out the window, expecting to see Mardon's car pull up any second. Ralph goes into the bathroom while I play look-out.​

"Jackpot!" He yells. Running out of the bathroom, he holds up a case with the words Property of Broome Weather Observatory stamped on it.​

"Bim-bam, there it is."​

"Crack it open and let's see the wand."​

"Uh-oh," Ralph says as he opens the case.​

"Wait...where's that weather wand?"​

KRAKOOM!​

Lightning explodes around us, tearing a hole in the house. High winds kick up and Mark Mardon levitates in front of us, his brother's invention in his hand.​

"Naughty children, prying where you don't belong."​

Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap!​

 

[Batman]

Hand screams in pain as Rayner/Walker attack him.

"That's it. Pour it on, all of you!"

Jordan, Katma, and I join in with the possessed Rayner and attack Hand with everything we've got. Green, blue, and violet energy beats back his black force and pummel the former Green Lantern.

Damn! Starting to feel energy I didn't even know I had.

An explosion of vivid color rips through space, striking it's way at a dark evil like never before. Though it started with three, with Hal Jordan and Katma Tui following Sinestro's lead, other Lanterns soon joined them and formed a tightly-knit circle around the agonized Black Hand. His dead skin soon boiling, William wreathed into an arc in mid-air and screamed, his eyes beginning to glow with the many colors of the Lantern rings that were attacking him. It seemed that the battle was coming to an immediate close, with no sign of Hand's forces arriving in time to save him from a swift, and perhaps justified execution.

But no such luck came the Corps' way. Almost as soon as he was ready to submit, The Black Lantern spewed forth a thick, dark substance that entangled itself around the beams of light directed his way. Like a living spider's web, the substance crawled forth and stretched out, connecting each beam into a primary one that focused itself on William Hand's heart. And where the energy was heading, it seemed to turn around, circling Hand's black ring and channeling into it. It was as if Hand were feeding off of the energy that was close to vanquishing him.

[BLACKOUT]"Misguided fool..."[/BLACKOUT]

[BLACKOUT]"Sinestro of Korugar, in all of your infinite wisdom, did you honestly believe it'd be that simple?"[/BLACKOUT]

The energy shot forth and entrapped several of the Green Lanterns that surrounded Jordan and Sinestro, binding them in a similar light to which they had used to try and entrap him. Hand focused hard, his energy growing with passing every moment, until he finally burst through the remaining beams and shot forth one of his own. The darkened energy became one with the earlier dark substance, growing brighter as they hit each ensnared Lantern. Multiple screams cried out in agony, as Hal and Sinestro could only watch in horror.

"My God... what is he doing to them?!"

[BLACKOUT]"Bringing an end to this pitiful race, Hal Jordan. These festering maggots that actually believe they're upholding intergalactic law."[/BLACKOUT]

The screaming Lanterns were each severed in half, killed instantly. Without the faintest hint of remorse, Hand's ring crackled with dark energy. Hal looked back at the corpses of the Green Lanterns as they began to move again, now muted and seemingly lifeless. They were now Black Lanterns, pawns of an all-powerful monster. [BLACKOUT]"My children. My offspring of death."[/BLACKOUT]

Hand raised his finger and pointed towards Jordan and Sinestro.

[BLACKOUT]"Engorge upon their hearts!"[/BLACKOUT]

The Black Lanterns growled, and immediately turned towards their ordered prey. Hal and Sinestro floated back-to-back, soon surrounded by a frightful horde of undead monstrosities. Jordan waited to hear Sinestro give him command to strike, but Korugar's defender had no words to offer. He was as lost in the hopelessness of their predicament as a simple rookie. Jordan clenched his fist, and willfully flared his ring up to it's maximum capacity. They weren't taking him without a fight.

"Sinestro, keep them busy. I'm gonna try to make my way towards the source."

Sinestro looked back, appalled. "Rookie, this is no time for childishness. It would be suicide to attack Hand alone, even for a veteran like me."

Jordan smirked, a clear arrogance forming in his demeanor.

"I'm feeling lucky."

The Black Lanterns pounced forth, their jaws practically unhinged, ready to devour the two Green Lanterns upon their first bite. But in an unexpected attack unbecoming of a Corpsman, Hal lunged forward and punched the first across the face, his ring embedding a firey Lantern's logo into the living corpse's cheek. He was running out of ideas for constructs, so he had to resort to what he knew best - amateur fighting.

"That's right! Come and get me, you ugly sons of-...!"

Jordan's empty threat was cut off as a Black Lantern tackled him from behind, reaching for his flesh with clear intent.

"Oh, hell..."

Kneeing the Lantern in the groin, Hal grabbed it by the shoulders and slammed his face into the Black Lantern Corpsman's own, breaking off bits of it's skeleton in the process. Tossing it aside, he flew into the next and wrestled it off of it's flight course, giving it a hard right and ripping it's lower jaw off. Black Hand turned his attention towards the struggling Lantern, equally as intrigued as he was amused by the Lantern's lack of militant style.

[BLACKOUT]"Interesting. You fight with the others, yet in the face of annihilation, you choose to utilize your own methods. Foolish as it may be, you have impressed me, Lantern."[/BLACKOUT]

Held down by several other Black Lanterns, Hal watched as their leader slammed into him with a punch of his own, drawing a trickle of blood from the Green Lantern's lip. Jordan spat it at Hand, who merely looked down at the crimson stain on his cloak. "Keep that. You can bill me for the dry-cleaning."

Unexpectedly, Hand leaped forward and grabbed Hal by the neck, choking him with a great amount of strength. Jordan struggled for air as the Black Lantern began to crush his windpipe without any true effort.

[BLACKOUT]"I, who vanquished The Guardians of the Universe. I, who've decimated The Lantern Corps for the rest of time. And I'm to be fed these miserable scraps?!"[/BLACKOUT]

The color in Jordan's face faded, as dark veins began to etch themselves on his skin. He, too, was beginning to transform into one of Hand's undead minions. The power of his ring began to dwindle under the strain, and blood began pouring out of Hal Jordan's mouth. It seemed that his final hour was at hand. Losing his own hope, Jordan's body became rigid, as he thought of the last pure memory of happiness he could remember. Carol...

Until Hand was bombarded with a blast of spectacular emerald energy. Releasing Jordan, the still-burning Black Lantern turned and growled, only to be shot once again with energy that was bigger and brighter than any one Lantern's power. William crashed into a crater of one of the moons surrounding Sector 666, embedding deeper into the rock below with another massive blast. Jordan coughed, his vitals coming back to life, and looked up to see what had saved him.

And couldn't believe his eyes. "No way..."

"It is true that you've murdered most of The Guardians of The Universe, William Hand."

"But not all. I am Ganthet. The first, and now last of the living Guardians."

 

[Saved]

Red Hood​

The door to Jason's apartment slowly opens, creeking mildly as it is pushed further wide. The light from the hallway floods the room, and Todd's shadowy figure moves casually inside. "What a night," he says in a heavy tone as he shuts the door behind him. "So much to think about." Jason pulls the backpack off his shoulder and drops it down on the table in front of his television. As the bag hits the wood, it makes a loud thud; the weight of the object inside causes the bag to topple onto its side, going motionless as it finds balance. Inside is Jason's greatest secret - the face of his alter ego - the Red Hood.​

"I've got to hand it to Bruce," Jason grins as he makes his way into the kitchen. He opens the refridgerator and pulls out a cold bottle of Jack Daniels as he continues his external monologue. "He may have kept that information from me, but at least he came clean," he admits, taking a drink from the container.

"Of course he'd think this man's too dangerous. His paranoia causes him to overestimate all his enemies. A wise practice in most cases, but with someone like this?" He asks, wiping the condensation from the bottle onto the side of his pants. "Foolish. If he really thinks I'm not going to investigate this on my own, than he's losing his touch." Jason takes another drink as he walks down the hall toward his evidence room.​

"But Bruce is never as naive as he seems. It's all part of his act - his cover. He's gotten so good at it I'll bet even he forgets when he's doing it, now." Jason reaches into his pocket and removes the weapon he stole from the cave a few hours earlier. As he holds it up to the dim light, a reflecting flash is cast off the smooth steel of the wing.​

"I'm sure he saw me steal this," Jason smirks as he examines the object closely. "Amazing craftsmanship ... aerodynamic design with possibly laser cut edges for maximum precision. Heh, and it's even got his level of flair, too. If I think he didn't see me take this, I'm kidding myself. Bruce's guilt must keep him from coming after me to retrieve it ... either that or it's of no concern to him. Either way, I've got an icebreaker for the girl."​

As Jason reaches the evidence room quickly, flipping on the light switch to the room. As the flickering light sheds a faint glow throughout the room, Jason carefully places the stolen weapon on top of a bookshelf resting against one of the walls. As he turns away from the device, his eyes move to the large wall of papers and maps he's tacked up on the adjacent wall. He stares at the newspaper clipping about fires, traveling circuses, and other pertinent information he's acquired over the past two months. "Haha," he laughs to himself as he muses over the headlines. "Bruce's aware of everything that happens in Gotham. He knows me all too well ... he'll be keeping a close eye on my activities as he waits for me to hunt this murderous clown on my own. Lucky for me, Gotham is a big place," he says in an ominous manner. "There's plenty of crime to keep him busy in the meantime."​

Jason takes a final drink from the bottle, guzzling the liquid down to the last drop. As he finishes, he throws it into the can filled with other bottles at the corner of the room, watching as it nestles in amongst the other items. "I'll have to contact detective Burke tomorrow - see what he's turned up on Belseraph's circus. Perhaps this psycho ringmaster has something to do with the break in of my office at Arkham. With any luck, he'll-" Jason stops himself from finishing his sentence as the sound of footsteps catches his attention. As he listens closely, he hears the clumsy pit pat of steps coming closer down the hall. "...company..." he says in a hush, turning to face the door at his back.​

On the floor of the hall, a large shadow lumbers forward, heading toward him. Jason balls his fists and takes a fighting stance as he prepares for his unwelcomed visitor. Suddenly, a large figure stands in the doorway - its features obstructed by the shadow its large body casts. "Alright, then," Jason shouts at the unknown guest. "Who are you?" The large figure replies with a snort, hot hair shooting from its nostrils. In a quiet whisper, it speaks his name, "Jaaaassssoooonnnn..." ​

The figure takes a step forward, moving into the light just enough to reveal itself. Jason's eyes widen as he sees the identity of his visitor - the large black eyes of his jaunt face, the green appearance of his hair and skin. "What the..." before Jason can finish his thought, the figure lets out a large growl as it drops to the ground onto all four of its legs.​

"A ***ing BEAR?!" Suddenly, the beast lunges forward, swiping its claws wildly at Jason as it attacks. Jason evades the first, but is struck by the second, slicing through his bullet proof vest and knocking him into the wall behind him. As the creature roars again, Jason shakes his head in shock - unsure if his eyes aren't playing tricks. "What the **** is this?!" He shouts, leaping to his side as the bear charges once more. "Someone sent a bear to kill me?" ​

As the bear misses him and strikes its head on the wall, it remains still for a moment - dazed and confused. Jason takes advantage of the pause and moves to the far end of the room, making his way toward a small locked box ontop of one of the tables. "I swear, if this is a dream, four supermodels better walk in right now." As Jason makes it to the table, he turns the key already inside the lock of the box. He grabs hold of the lid, opening it hastily as the beast behind him begins to recover. As Jason looks inside the box, he sees two syringes filled with a murky liquid. "Sedatives. Bingo," he grins. "Glad I decided to keep these filled," he says proudly as he grasps the needles in each hand. Turning to face his attacker, Jason stares into the beast's eyes - watching him carefully as he prepares his assault.​

"You know, I was saving these for when I had a freak out," he tells the bear as it snorts aggressively once again. "... I guess this could qualify, actually-" with a loud roar, the bear lunges toward Jason, preparing to rip his body to shreds.​

"But I think you need it more!" Jason leaps into the air, evading the bear's massive jaws. As Todd drops back to the ground, he lands on the animal's back. Grasping the syringes tightly, Jason drops his arms down and plunges the tips of the needles into the creature's neck, releasing the sedatives into its body. The creature's eyes grow large as it lets out a heavy breath - a weak blast of air emits from its snout as its body goes limp. Jason rolls off the beast's back as it collapses to the ground - the drugs taking their effect quickly.​

"Take a nap," Jason says as he tries to catch his breath. As Jason watches the beast fall into sleep, he lets out a sigh of relief. "Man ... I made those needles as a back up for my adrenaline doses. Never once did I think I'd need them for a ****in' bear," he tells himself, still in disbelief of the events of the past few moments. But before Jason can comprehend all that has happened, a second paranormal occurence occurs right before his eyes.​

The creature's body suddenly begins to shrink, reverting into a smaller and less bulky form. The thick fur soon fades away into a light green skin - the large and sharp paws of the beast's legs changing into human hands and feet. The bear's face begins to become more flat, and before long, morphs into that of a human. Jason's eyes widen once again, his face drooping as his body seems to go limp. The bear that attacked him just seconds ago has transformed into the shape of a human - and a convincing one at that. "Wow," Jason says as he desperately tries to rationalize all that has happened in a matter of moments. "I've gotta take it easy on the liquor."​

****​

Hunted Prey Part I

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Rhiannon settles in with a cup of tea as the video of her mother continues in Lap-Top.

Alice says, "By now you have learned that I worked for Homeland Security covertly, however I was also involved with an organization within the CIA called Checkmate. Think of it as the CIA within the CIA."

If I hear one more secret organization or name I may have to start writing this down to keep it all straight.

Alice says, "Waller was appointed to run Checkmate with the express purpose of working covertly along side the Metahuman community. The U.S. Government could not be seen as officailly endorsing the Metahuman community but the President and other members saw the value of the Metahuman community and how they could help. Amanda was a good person and had nobel intentions in the beginning, however there is a fatal flaw with Checkmate. The person in charge answers only to the President and the director of the NSA and that is it. Waller knows how to play the political game very well. It is no exageration to say she is the most powerful person on the planet and a dangerous threat. I warn you now Rhiannon don't piss her off."

Well so much for that.

"I was brought in on behalf of the NSA and State Department to help keep an eye on Amanda. To be their liasion officer and over time Amanda and I became friends, but I began to notice a change in her. She became more brazen with her power and crossing lines that not even James Bond would've crossed. Absolute power led to her absolute corruption I didn't even recognize her anymore. Waller began to dictate policy within the CIA and other law enforcement agencies and she had no one to keep her in check. I began creating files and documenting these events. If you look in your high-school yearbook your picture of when you were in the science club you'll find something. Go ahead I'll wait."

Rhiannon digs through a box and gets her yearbook, she then opens it to find another CD Rom.

Nice one mom.

Alice says, "It is everything on her and some of my own analysis. You will need that information if you are going to stop her."

Stop her?!?! How....

Her mom smiles and says, "Rhiannon I know about your powers and your double life. I, in a way, saw to it as my one of my last dying acts that the laser at Star-Labs didn't kill you. I hope you picked out a good color scheme for your costume."

This is just unreal. I feel like this is a "Twilight Zone" episode that was created by J.J. Abrams.

Her mother says, "Here is how I helped create your powers...."

 

[Saved]

Red Hood​

Hunted Prey Part II

Inside the living room of his apartment, Jason monitors the unconscious body of his would be assailant, handcuffed securely to one of his kitchen chairs. As Jason paces back and forth, waiting for his unwelcomed guest to awaken, he holds a pistol tightly within his hand. As a few moments pass, the chained man begins to stir, and Jason stands ready, rising the pistol high as he aims the barrel toward the man’s forehead.

“Who are you?” He asks sternly, his face tight in alarm.
“Jason…?” The stranger asks in confusion, still dazed from the sedative.
“You broke into my office at Arkham, right?”
“Yes, but-“
“I won’t ask again,” Jason snarls, cocking the gun in a menacing manor. “Who ARE you? I tried to check you for ID, but … you were naked.”
“Jason,” the man smiles in relief. “It’s me! Garfield, Garfield Logan. Your lab partner from Ivy Tech.” Jason stares at his attacker strangely, his eye brow rising slightly in uncertainty.

“…I haven’t seen Garfield Logan in nearly four years. So, tell me, ‘friend’, if you’re truly him - why did you try to kill me?” Garfield’s smile suddenly droops into an ashamed frown.

“I tried to kill you?” He asks in disgrace.
“What the- YES you tried to kill me. You turned into a ****in bear and tried to turn me into a clip on Uncut and Untamed!”
“Jason, I’m… ****, I can’t believe it happened AGAIN.”
“Again?”
“Look, man, I’m really – REALLY, sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you, it just… well, sometimes it happens.”
“What does? You randomly lash out in ferocious rage?”
“Yes, it’s – it’s kinda the reason I came here.”

Jason stares at the man in bewilderment, still baffled by all that’s happened. “Wait, wait, wait,” he says, shaking his pistol mildly. “Let me get this straight – I’m supposed to believe my former lab partner from college who, all of a sudden, developed animal morphing abilities, is here in my apartment after four years asking for my help because he’s a rage-aholic?! Explain to me how this, in any form, makes even the slightest bit of sense.”

“Ask me something.” The man replies, his tone serious.
“I just did!” Jason exclaims as his voice cracks slightly.
“No, a question – something only Garfield Logan would know.”
“Alright,” Jason says, pondering for a moment. “What was our nickname for Professor Trent?”
“Big time,” he replies confidently. “Because every class he’d end an important statement with the phrase, “big time”.”
“Alright…why is March 13th significant?”

“It was the day we snuck into the lab after hours to finish our project because we were both so hung over from the night before we slept through class that morning.” He pauses, thinking thoughtfully for a moment as he reminisces. “Oh, and we screwed with Henry Park’s lab manual so his final project would be off by two fifths in his final calculation. Then you laughed at him when he got an ‘F’ and failed the course.”

“HE-HEY, it is you, Gar!” Jason shouts in jubilee, convinced by his friend’s interrogation. “How you been?” Garfield nods to the handcuffs restraining him to the chair. “Haha, yeah, my bad. Lemme get those for you.” Jason walks over to Garfield, pulling out the key to the restraints from his pocket and moving to uncuff his friend from the chair. “Wait,” he pauses for a moment. “You’re not going to flip out, are you?”

“No, I’m calm…you know, despite having a gun aimed at me.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Jason says as he unhooks the handcuffs, dropping them to the floor with a loud jingling of metal. “Rubber bullets.”
“Part of your vigilante persona?” Garfield asks as he rubs his wrists gently.
“Not yet – but I was thinking about it. Figured the sight of the gun should be a deterrent if nothing else. Hey, you were my test subject – tell me, were you scared?” Garfield gives Jason a sardonic look, somewhat irritated by Jason’s question. “Riiight, so…anyway, why are you here again?”

“I need your help.”
“Rage thing?”
“Yeah, it’s…a side effect.”
“Side effect from what, like…a drug?”
“Sort of, yes.”
“Wow…I’m going to the wrong dealer.” He jokes, attempting to lighten the mood.
“After college, I got a job at Drake Chemicals working as a research and development scientist on special projects.”
“What, for like…agencies?”
“Yeah, mostly special ops. But, unfortunately, my colleague and I weren’t turning up results to our employer’s satisfaction.”
“Uh-oh, the plot thickens…”

“Yeah, after about five months of threats, one of the chairmen decided we’d be more useful as test subjects for a new serum designed especially for covert soldiers. Initially, it was supposed to allow the user to morph into any animal he or she had come in contact with for a few hours, enough time to get the assignment done. Unfortunately, the serum’s results were a little more…permanent.”

“Obviously,” Jason remarks. “What happened to your lab partner?”
“They tried the serum on him first. His test trial didn’t go as well… he’s dead.”
“Sorry to hear that… so, what makes you think I can help you?”
“Well, quite frankly, it was partly chance. I was in the neighborhood so to speak, and I remembered hearing you were an accomplished doctor at Arkham Asylum in Gotham, so I figured I’d find you and see if you could give me a bit of help.”
“…did you come to get some psychiatric advice for your suppressed aggression?”
“Not necessarily...but, maybe a place to stay for the night? I need shelter.”
“You’re on the run?”
“Yeah, the guys at Drake Chemicals hired a few mercenaries to hunt me down and bring me back after I escaped.”
“Let me guess, they want you dead or alive?”
“I’ve got the same genetic composition whether or not my heart’s beating,” he replies coldly.
“Yikes. Any idea where you’re running? Do you have a destination?”
“As a matter a fact, yes. I heard about this geneticist somewhere in Midway City. His name's Niles Caulder. I think he can help me… if I can make it there, that is.”

“Well, alright, man – I’ll help you out. Might be able to do something about that rage problem you’ve got too.” Jason walks into the backroom as Garfield opts to stay in the living room of Jason’s apartment. As Garfield remains seated, he hears Jason rifling through cabinets and drawers in the other room, obviously searching for something.

“Wait, you really think you can help me?”
“Yeah,” Jason calls as he drops a few boxes to the floor. “It seems like it may just be an imbalance in your body’s hormones. When do you usually go Animaniac?”
“Uh…I guess under stress, but…sometimes it happens when I’m happy, tired…wow, it kinda happens a lot more than I thought, now that I think about it.”
“Ah-ha, just as I thought. See, when the human body experiences any specific emotions, different hormones and neurotransmitters are released in the brain. Normally, in someone with an imbalance experiences extreme emotional outbursts, like in people with bipolar disorder or depression.”

“That makes sense,” Garfield says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as Jason enters the room with syringes clasped in his hand.
“Didn’t think you’d get a science lesson, did you?”
“Like you’re telling me something I don’t know,” he grins.
“Fine, I’m telling you something you forgot.”
“I didn’t forget – I’m just confused as how you’re able to help me with that.”

“Here,” Jason says, holding the syringes out to Garfield. “Take one every twelve hours. It should wean your body off the excess hormones that lead to your outbursts while fueling your melatonin and serotonin levels to keep you more docile.” Garfield stares at the syringes cautiously, unsure of his friend’s ‘remedy’.

“Um… why do you have this concoction already mixed up and ready to go?”
“I’ve got some issues I’ve been working through myself,” Jason explains vaguely. “You wanted my help, here it is – take it or leave.”
“Don’t you mean, ‘take it or leave it?’”
“No. I mean take my help or get the **** out.” He says, a wide smile coming over his face.
“Alright,” Garfield smirks, taking the treatment from his friend’s hand. “Thanks.”

“By the way… why did you break into my office again?”
“Oh, I came looking for you so I went to your office. It was during the day, I figured you’d be in there.”
“Haha, you’d be surprised…”

“Yeah, I had an ‘episode’ in there and went a little berserk. When I finally came to, I saw the helmet in your desk and put two and two together – imagine my shock when I found my former lab partner was now a friggin vigilante.”
“Well, now you know how I felt when you assaulted me in the hallway back there.”
“Anyway,” Garfield says, ignoring Jason’s comment. “I knew it was only a matter of time before security would find it, so I searched your office for any other paraphernalia and took the helmet to save you from being discovered. I brought the helmet back, it’s in your oven- tried to find the most obscure place for it in case you had anyone over in the meantime.”

“Well then,” Jason says, folding his hands over his chest. “I guess I owe you.”
“After what you’re doing for me? No, let’s call it even.”
“Fair enough,” Jason smiles. “Hey, there’s one thing that I’m not understanding about your story?”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. You can turn into any animal you want, right?”
“Any animal I’ve gotten DNA from, yeah.”
“So, why are some hired mercs even a challenge for you? Couldn’t you just rip through them like wet tissue paper?”
“Yeah…um, I was able to do that for a while… ‘til they hired this new guy.”
“What, top level?”
“Arguably most deadly on the market.”
“Why, who is he?”

“Well, he’s-“ before Garfield can finish his sentence, the door to the apartment suddenly swings open as an unwelcomed intruder furiously kicks it in. The man steps into the light, holding a large shotgun in one hand and an M-16 machine gun in the other. “That guy.”

“You’re a hard man to find, Logan.” The man turns to Jason, sizing him up quickly and tactically.
“He followed you?” Jason asks angrily.
“I swear, I thought I lost him.”
“No man can hide from the Terminator.”

“That’s your name? I’m pretty sure James Cameron’s gonna sue those heavily armored pants off your huge, steroid juiced body.”

“Actually, my name’s Deathstroke, and I’ll-“ he stops, pausing for a moment. “Wait, why am I explaining this to you?” The mercenary quickly aims his shotgun directly at Jason, unloading two slugs into his chest, causing Jason to flip back over the couch.
“Jason!” Garfield growls, shifting into a lion. “You’ll pay for that you-“
“No,” Deathstroke says, taking aim once more. “I don’t think I will.”

​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Dreams in my head, playing on a reel:

Vic Sage, sans face: "Time's running out. Only a few more months."

Faces of the dead, haunting me. Mom, Dad, Umberto Maroni.

John Lees with a bullet in his head. Chances I killed an innocent man: 60/40

Cocaine falling from the sky.

Sal Maroni laughing, high-pitched. Chains wrapped in his hands. Chains lead to choke-collar around Selina's neck.

Sarah Essen being double-teamed by Driver and Bullock.

Barbara Gordon, naked and covered in roses.

Holiday, knife-wielding and face hidden. The bodies piled around his feet: O'Hara all the way to Falcone. Eight men, all dead.

Shadow of the Bat falls on me.

Jim Gordon in front of me. Looking down the barrel of his nine: "Time's up, Eddie."

BLAM!

"No!"

Snap awake. My place. Little past two in the AM. Heart-racing. Pocket vibrating. My phone. Slip it out and open.

"Nygma. Where are you?"

"At my apartment. What's going on, Sage?"

"We need to meet."

"Okay, meet me at my office in-"

"No. We can't meet at Gotham Central or any place cops could be....Robinson Park in a half hour?"

"That'll work."

Sage: gone, no goodbye just click.

Major break? Maybe. Sage finally buying into my cop theory? More than likely.

Only a few more days until the 4th. One more holiday down, and one more month to catch Holiday. After that, I'm ****ed. Royally.

Either come home a hero, or not at all.​

 

[Andy C.]

Lex Luthor
​

With surprising speed and efficiency, Lois and I are quickly escorted up LexCorps Towers and I can't help but be awestruck by the technology around me, and I've been to advanced alien worlds. I guess it's just hard to believe that Lex has come so far since we knew each other as kids.

Lois, however, is completely unfazed. She's got her game face on.

"If you'll step right this way, please," the receptionist tells us as she gestures to the large doors leading into Luthor's office. At the end of the room, we can see Lex standing and looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows. As we approach his desk with two chairs waiting for us in front of it, Lois nudges me. "Some view, huh?" she whispers, indicating the sight of Metropolis through Lex's office windows.

"I've seen better," I reply.

Before we arrive at his desk, Lex turns around to face us with a welcoming smile. What a nice man.

"Miss Lane, how nice to see you again," I say with a smile, playing the gracious host as well as I can to someone whom I know for a fact can't stand me. A fact that makes this so much more enjoyable. "I loved your piece on Senator Hastings' connections with Bruno Manheim. Very powerful stuff. Shame the Pulitzer committee passed you over, though."

The man in the glasses clears his throat awkwardly, as if cueing me to acknowledge his presence.

"Ah, and you must be Mister....Kent, isn't it?" I say, nodding but intentionally not extending my hand. Handshakes are only for making deals, not introductions. "I've read a few of your articles since you signed on with the Planet, and I've been quite impressed with your writing. Very vivid, and quite bold in your assertions. I would dare say Miss Lane may have an unexpected rival in you when it comes to the Daily Planet's best reporter."

I lean back in my desk chair, and gesture for them to sit down.

"Now then, I believe you had a few questions for me?"

 

[Byrd Man]

IC: Vic Sage

Broken condoms, used hypo needles, and empty beer cans. The usual landscape at Robinson Park. Nygma sitting on a park bench. His wrinkled green suit is basked in the halogen light. The lieutenant's eyes are shimmering, spooky Nygma in full effect.

"Nice night, Lieutenant. Be careful about sitting on that bench, you might get herpes."

"You woke me up with a lead. Spill."

"Well, I braced Jack Napier tonight."

Nygma stares.

"Jack Napier? The Jack Napier? Psycho Jack?"

"Yep. For a homicidal maniac, he has a charming personality."

"How did you find him?"

Deadpan: "I'm Batman."

Nygma stares. Unamused.

"Yeah, I paid off one of my CIs and he asked around. I found him, told him I didn't want to arrest him and asked him some questions about his dealings with the Valestra Mob."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar." And putting a loaded gun to someone's head helps too.

"What'd he have to say?"

"Your hunch about O'Hara's unit was dead-on. They were shake down artists. Took bribes from the three mob families in the city and played enforcer for them."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Okay. Of the officers in that squad: all are dead except two. O'Hara and Flass bought it at Holiday's hands. John Grayson was gunned down by the mob."

Nygma arches his eyebrow. "I thought GCPD policy was that Batman killed Grayson."

"That's not Batman's style."

Nygma narrows his eyes, scowls. "How do you know what Batman's style is?"

"Gunning down a police officer with an assault rifle doesn't play to a man known to kick the ever loving **** out of criminals...plus, Batman would let everyone know it was him if he did kill Grayson. He'd want to send a message, he's a drama queen." Nygma's scowl worsens. "I...uhh, I think. That's a hunch I got, anyway."

"Make your point detective. What, if anything, does this have to do with Holiday?"

"Napier said that all the cops in the unit, except O'Hara and Grayson came by Grissom's place to shake him down and take their protection money. Napier said he witnessed Gordon, Essen, and Flass all coming in to collect. He said that a few days before White Christmas, Flass and a sergeant came by to collect. Napier said Flass introduced him as a new transfer into Narco."

"Napier give a name?"

"Couldn't remember it. Jackie Boy said the guy was a big man, tall and large."

"Napier's booking records puts his height at about 5'9, so anybody over six feet counts as large to him. Tell me your theory."

"I find it strange two of Holiday's victims were from the same corrupt unit. I don't fully buy into your cop as a killer angle, but whatever is going on, odds are this mysterious sergeant knows who it is. Gordn and Essen are untouchable right now. O'Hara, Grayson, and Flass are six feet under. We want to crack this case, we find that sergeant."

Nygma cracks a smile. Spooky Nygma turns into Nutty Nygma.

"Very good, detective. We have under two days until the 4th of July. Let's see what the GCPD record room has to offer."

The clock is ticking: 45 hours and some change to find out who Holiday is before he....or she kills for what could be the last time.

Tick-tick-tick.

 

[Green Lantern]

In the past weeks, Dick had made quite the mark on the Triad, burning down several of their weapons warehouses and training grounds, but not before confiscating much more in the way of weaponry and gear. One of the things he had managed to grab was a freefall harness, streamlined for the Triad assassins. He'd yet to try it out, but was feeling especially adventurous tonight, as he stood on the roof of Wayne Tower.

What am I thinking... **** this is a long way down. Oh well, no one left to mourn if I'm street pizza, is there?

"GERONIMO!"

Dick dived off the skyscraper and was never more thankful that he had put lenses in his mask as the wind whipped by his face. He pulled the ripcords from the harness and two small chutes opened. Not enough to slow him down to a crawl, but enough to slow him enough to make a safe landing one minute later. With a press of a button on the harness, the chutes sprang back towards him as the cords retracted, and the chutes themselves vacuum sealed back in the harness.

"HOLY **** WHAT A RUSH."

On his patrol, he saw that new faces were moving in. The Triad had lost ground, the Italians were moving in. He'd have to show them that this was Redbird's turf too. His thoughts turn as he hears a scream. It seemed to come from the alley that was across the street, and without hesitating, Dick ran towards the sound. In the shadows of the alley he saw a man in white crouching over a woman. "Such fear in your eyes. Such beautiful fear. A thing of nightmares, terrors of the dreams. For if every dream were a good one, no one would ever choose to wake. My sweet, darling, you'll live on in the nightmares of others."

"Just like you'll live on to be the wet dream of your cell mate, punk."

Dick had had enough of this man's lame monologing. The assailant turned at the voice of the new comer. "Look at you, you can't be old, still wet the bed in your night terrors?"

"Not from scum like OH GOD. YOUR EYE!"

Where the man's left eye had been was scarred, and in the dim light, many things glistened. As the man came closer to Dick he could see that there were shards of glass embedded throughout the man's eyesocket. In one hand he held a bloody knife, dripping from it's newest victim. In his other he clenched something in a fist. Dick could see the blood drip from the fist he held. He could also see the very morbid necklace the man wore. Staring at Dick from around the man's neck were two dozen eyeballs in varying colors and states of decay. "Thought I didn't scare you, little one." The man pulls one of the eyeballs off the cord around his neck and puts it in his mouth. A sick slurping sound can be heard, before seeing the man's neck expand a little as the eyeball is swallowed. "So succulent. I bet your eyeballs will taste fresh, fresh and juicy. So many things seen in them, but always that last glimmer of fear left in them. Such a sweet taste fear."

Apprehensive of this murderer, Dick held his ground. His right hand went to his breast where he held a shuriken he had made specifically for this uniform, in the shape of an R.

The man drew ever closer, "I'm sorry, how impolite of me, my Master, the lord of dreams would be ashamed of me for not introducing myself. For I am the Corinthian, one of the first night terrors created by lord Morpheus."

"Oh for Chrissakes, will you just ****ing shut up already?"

Dick released the blade in his hand and it buried itself deep in the man's knife hand. From his belt, Dick took a short staff, which he twisted in the middle to release it into two halfs, connected by a tension cord extending to four feet. While the man, cringed from the pain in his hand, Dick swung the modified nunchuck at the man, connecting square in the temple. The man collapsed to the floor, and from his closed hand, a handful of freshly pulled teeth scattered on the cement.

Dick made his way over to the woman, dead soon after her scream. Her eyes had been cut out, and already the man had buried several teeth into the flesh of her eyesockets.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

 

[Batman]

"-...and with fifty eight confirmed injuries and a continually rising number of fatalities, authorities are still looking into the mysterious attacks of four separate businesses spanning across Gotham just last night. While no comment has been made if the violent acts of arson were somehow related, many speculate that the attacks were, infact, simultaneous. Leaving citizens to question whether the city now faces a serial arsonist, and worse yet, if and when the individual will strike again. Acting Mayor Anthony Garcia released a brief statement this morning, vowing that in the wake of the tragedy-..."

After listening to it all morning, I finally work up the nerve to shut it off. Yet my anger never fades, even as the SUV takes the express route into Gotham City Plaza - where, whether I wish it or not, Bruce Wayne will be opening the presentation of the Waynecom-1 Satellite. Alfred's already engaged in the multitasking that his job requires, checking my presentation speech for error while simultaneously speaking to the company's international investors to assure them that I'll actually be there. Yet with all of this surrounding me, reminding me of my obligations, I can only think of the dead that were pulled out of the wreckage of those establishments. About how somewhere in the city, a lunatic still roams the streets while families of his victims begin to grieve.

It all serves as a constant reinforcement of my earlier suspicions - that no matter the consequences of my actions, I only risk further damage by trying to maintain this facade. I thought I could handle trying to maintain my family's image while embarking on the mission at hand, but I'm beginning to realize I only gave myself further complications. Were it not for the tools I require to keep me ahead of the criminal element, I've often began to wonder if I'd have even made the effort to build up this asinine persona of myself. Does the world really have any use for another showboating, pompously arrogant socialite?

Alfred frustratedly closes his cellphone, briefly straining my concentration.

"If I'm to get another call from another bloody member of the board of directors, I'm going to have to start the British revolution anew."

Turning towards the window, I look out at the sunset, trying to hide a scowl.

"I'd almost welcome it, if it meant getting out of this."

"Fortunately for both of our sanity's sake, you're not. I'd be halfway tempted to beat you over the head with your own nine-iron."

I raise an eyebrow. "I'll be sure to tell myself that onstage. Any idea how long the conference is going to be?"

"Should be over and done with by nine-thirty, at the latest. Though the board hopes you'll at least stay for the post-launch festivities, for the sake of the company's image."

"That gives me another hour to kill. Expect to have the limo waiting by midnight."

"In which case, you'll be dashing off to don your leather attire and beat the scourge of the underworld senseless. All in all, a suitable excuse for an early departure."

I remain silent.

"Sir, not to sound trite, but you'd be doing yourself a favor to go into this with a more positive outlook. No one enjoys these things any more than you do - the real challenge of it lies with bringing about a sense of enjoyment that wouldn't necessarily be there, otherwise."

With a small sigh, I look back at him and give a nod, accepting his words while adding my own addendum. "I get what you're saying, Alfred. But after what happened last night, I just can't bring myself to any sort of positivity."

He gives me a worried look, but eventually accepts it.

"I suppose that, despite my thoughts on the matter, you're capable of making that judgment. As long as you don't give the press any impression of the dreary loner that I'm looking at right now, we have nothing to worry about. Unless your doubts are beginning to cloud your focus?"

Before I can smirk, flashing camera lights begin to catch my attention from outside of the vehicle. The driver indicates that we're here, just before we come to a stop outside of the Plaza Center's front entrance. Looking back at Alfred, I give a shrug, adjusting my suit's jacket and tie. Beyond this point, there's no real sense of return. It's going to be a hell of a long night.

"Guess we're about to find out."

"As the current CEO of Waynetech and one of the overseers of this particular project, I'd like to thank you all for joining us this evening."

From the backstage area, I begin to realize that I've been pacing the floors for the past few minutes. And that I have to keep it up, if I'm going to avoid the disappointment of checking my watch again. I've already counted down the minutes since my last glance, and it's not nearly close enough to midnight. Helena's keeping the shareholders happy by insisting we start the presentation early, but I know better than to get my hopes up that it'll lead to a quicker slot. Some of the most influential men in the world are sitting in that audience tonight, and any good businessman will tell you that winning them over requires a detailed, thorough overview of the focus of their potential support.

Not that I have any doubt that they'll be enthusiastic about the satellite. Even with my general lack of interest in the subject, I couldn't help but be intrigued by the project's potential for unmanned space exploration data scans, and solar energy based productivity. The system that we're launching it on practically makes The Oracle look obsolete. And it seems that I'm just that lucky - no one's going to be looking for a misplaced artificial intelligence system when something bigger and better seems to be coming on the market. The only differences is the urbanization, which... let's face it. Only someone like me would truly need to utilize.

"As some of you may know, one of the company's forthcoming goals has always been to break new territory into the fields of cleaner energy and environmentally friendly electronics. But The United States has thus far been given few significant resources to achieve this milestone in our millennium. We've often been questioned as to where such an abundance of clean energy can originate,"

The area of the stage behind Helena displays a vivid hologram of the solar system, encouraging more than a few surprised expressions and enthusiastic claps. Helena looks back and smirks at me, knowing fully well that showing that first would make a necessary impact. I indicate the audience, which she promptly turns back to.

"And now we know. Here to present to the world, after an extensive development preriod, the Waynecom-1 satellite is Waynetech's primary shareholder and my predecessor, Bruce Wayne!"

Rushing past the curtain and composing myself, I give a wide smile as the audience begins to cheer, and cameras begin to flash. Sometimes I fail to realize just how my absence from the public can have a profound effect on the press. Giving Helena a quick kiss on the cheek, mostly to play it up for the cameras, I eventually make my way towards center stage and wave.

"Thank you. It's an honor."

After a few more seconds of clapping, the momentary rush begins to die down. Clearing my throat, I place my hands onto the podium and begin, hoping to whatever god is out there that I can make it through this.

"Really though, I'll try to keep it quick, because I know you're all just waiting for the refreshments."

A few give a courteous laugh, while others seem largely bored to even be here. I know how they feel. "But seriously, I echo Ms. Bertinelli's sentiments. Thank you all very much for coming out to see the next pioneer in space-age computer technology - we've been trying very hard not to make it too boring for you in the process. I'd also like to take a moment to also thank the project's top engineer and team leader, Dr. Ira Billings. Let's give him a hand."

As they comply with my request, I take a quick look towards Alfred's direction. He's in the audience and still on the phone, looking as agitated as ever. I give him a small look and he returns it, indicating that I need to keep this moving. Slipping my speech out of my lapel, I place it on the podium before anyone can notice. If I have to improvise another word of this...

"The satellite, as we envisioned it several years ago, was designed to answer a simple question. What inhibits us from learning more about the universe? What keeps us from exploring a vast quantity of the galaxy that we ourselves inhabit? When the project was initially greenlit in 2005, digital imaging and crafted probes were the most state of the art advancements made by NASA. But even by their admission, the technology was relatively unstable in the reach of deep space. We simply had no way of predicting the extent of conditions of planets far beyond Earth, such as Neptune and Pluto - planets that scientists had previously been unable to explore."

Behind me, a series of 3-dimensional images from The Waynecom-1's test orbital scanning sensors display themselves on a screen, as several other images become holograms similar to the one Helena requested. Needless to say, the reactions are well worth the hype. I think that, despite my reservations, this is actually going to go very well for the company.

"Tonight, we're about to change that. Because of NASA's generosity and close cooperation with Waynetech's team of physicists, I am able to present what will surely be the standard for unmanned space exploration. Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me-..."

As my mind drifts back towards the crowd, something out of place suddenly make itself present. Standing a few inches infront of the crowd of spectators, a man that I don't recognize edges closer towards the stage, his eyes narrowed directly at me. For a moment I believe he's a member of the Plaza Center staff, but he's not in uniform. And he's not dressed like anyone else in attendance - upon fleeting inspection, his attire seems considerably inappropriate for the function. That's when I notice he's moving for the inside of his jacket, realizing, beyond all conceivability, what exactly is about to happen.

He's pulling a gun. I recognize the movement anywhere. The indent on his jacket, the urgency of his movements. I've experienced it too many times to mistake it for something else.

*BLAM* *BLAM*

Before anyone else realizes it, I've thrown myself back and ducked under his aim, as he produces the pistol and quickly fires two rounds, the first grazing the podium. Realizing that he missed, I watch as he tries to run up the stage to try and attack me upfront, but the crowd is immediately sent into a frenzy. Multiple screams echo throughout the showcase floor, as people rush for the exit and nearly topple one another. I struggle to get myself back to my feet, unafraid of the possibility of the attacker's third shot, but it's too late.

He's gone. Vanished right into the crowd, as they continue running towards any possible hope of escape. They don't realize, yet, that I was the only target he was after. And I have to find out why.

Rushing off of the stage, I vault over the railing and quickly try to catch up to the crowd. Alfred props himself up from the floor, having been knocked down in the hurry. He immediately grabs me by the arm. "Sir, are you-...?!"

I give him a stern look, ripping my arm away.

"We have to stop him!"

He gives me a solumn nod, realizing that I haven't been hurt. But as we both rush towards the crowd, trying to pick out which one of them is the gunman, I feel myself being dragged back. At first I think it's Alfred, again, but he's being dragged aswell. It's security, trying to get me as far away from the scene as possible.

"Mr. Wayne, this way! This way, sir!"

"Get him to the back entrance!"

I fight against it, struggling against their grip, but it's hopeless.

Damn it. If they'd only let me go - he's getting away!

"Let... me... go!"

"Bruce,"

Everyone pauses as Alfred composes himself, and approaches me. "He's gone. Give it a rest."

Allowing me my freedom once I've calmed down, the guards decide to let me go. They quickly begin discussing strategies to get me safely back home, but all I can do is watch the entrance, wondering if Alfred's right. He could be right there, still waiting, and we'd have never known it. Or he could be miles away. I'd take the risk, but I fear I've already compromised enough. It takes a second or two to process it, but I realize it soon enough -

Someone just tried to murder Bruce Wayne, and not Batman.

What could that possibly mean?

 

[Catman_prb]

And couldn't believe his eyes. "No way..."

"It is true that you've murdered most of The Guardians of The Universe, William Hand."

"But not all. I am Ganthet. The first, and now last of the living Guardians."

Black Hand let out a feral scream of rage, throwing himself towards Ganthet.
[BLACKOUT]"Die you worthless piece of filth!" [/BLACKOUT]the living corpse yelled, stabbing a black blade down at the blue Guardian.

Ganthet waved his hand, blasting Hand backwards with a crunch.

"Your horde is broken Hand. Your power is waning," the guardian spoke "All I wish to know, is what you saw in Sector 666,"

William Hand smiled, showing the rotting yellow teeth that were in his jaws. He laughed, a cracked, menacing sound, that raised the hairs on the back of Kyle's necks. The Lanterns constructed a great green cage around the monster, locking him in.

"This has all been done before," Hand said, grinning "And it will all be done again. Or did you forget that old one?"

"You speak blasphemy, William," Saint Walker growled. The Black Lantern howled with laughter.

"I speak the truth! And you know it! Did you forget, Ganthet, after you pulled the pages out of the Book of Oa, and burned them?"
Hand said, displaying his rotten teeth.

The Guardian lowered his head, clearly thinking. William Hand laughed with glee, sickening in the happiness he took from the old alien's distress.

"You remember! You remember her! The Black One, that left your orderly paradise and went out into the wilderness to seek the truth!" Hand giggled.

"Silence!" Ganthet shouted, knocking the wretch's head back with another blow "Learn to respect your betters you pathetic creature,"


"Then I suppose that now you will execute me, for knowing too much," Hand cackled.

"I shall do it," Walker said, through Rayner's mouth.

The Lantern walked towards the imprisoned creature, pulling the black ring from it's decaying hand, and crushing it in his own. He crafted a small blue blade from his ring, that he held tightly in his hand, raising it above Hand's neck.

"We will meet again Hal Jordan of Earth. All of this will happen again," Hand breathed, closing his black eyes.

As Walker brought the blade down, blackness covered the small group, and a sharp pain stabbed behind their eyes. The shock imobilised the Lanterns and their patron, and when they came round again, William Hand was gone.

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Clock it: Almost 23 hours until July 4th.

Inside the MCU, deserted. Just Sage and I, combing records.

Ink on my fingers, blowing through the Narco records at free-fall pace. Every arrest record Narco made from 1/1/96 to 12/31/96. All arrests approved by Cpt. Clancy L. O'Hara and his admin assistant: Lt. James W. Gordon.

1996 records: zilch, nadda, zippo, no, nein, nyet, nothing.

No mysterious sergeant listed as transferring around 12/25. Just Gordon, Essen, Flass, Grayson, and O'Hara.

Radio static: "Dispatch to MCU."

Grab the mike: "Lieutenant Nygma here."

"We got a signal 28 at the observatory."

Signal 28. Shots fired. No Signal 6. Plain shooting, no body.

"I got it."

Sage: half-smoked cig in his mouth. Scowl on his face.

"What about this case?"

"I'm the only MCU squad member on duty. I gotta take it. If only they'd have murdered the bastard, they would have kicked it down to Homicide."

"Wow, Eddie. You're just full of compassion."


​

*******

​

The Gotham Observatory. Rich *****es in tuxes and dresses. Room smells like champagne and money. Uniform outside filled me in on the details. Someone took a potshot at Bruce Wayne.

Muscle my way through the crowd. Come to a stop in front of Moneybags. Flash the badge.

"Mister Wayne? I'm Lieutenant Edward Nygma, Major Crimes. I'm here to get your statement and run the crime scene."​

 

[Byrd Man]

The Lantern walked towards the imprisoned creature, pulling the black ring from it's decaying hand, and crushing it in his own. He crafted a small blue blade from his ring, that he held tightly in his hand, raising it above Hand's neck.

"We will meet again Hal Jordan of Earth. All of this will happen again," Hand breathed, closing his black eyes.

As Walker brought the blade down, blackness covered the small group, and a sharp pain stabbed behind their eyes. The shock imobilised the Lanterns and their patron, and when they came round again, William Hand was gone.

Just like that, Hand and his massive forces are gone.

"What just happened?"

"Hand has ran, Thaal Sinestro. That is what rats do when they find themselves in a corner."

"Where do we go from here?"

"We rebuild. That is all we can do."

The lantern forces begin to crowd around Ganthet. A figure jostles forward to the front of the crowd.

"Where is Hand?" Atrocitus demands.

"He has slipped through our grasp."

"No! It can't be!"

"It can be, and it is so. We will hunt him down once more."

"No! I'm tired of the Guardian's bureaucracy! You miniature tyrants see fit to rule the universe with us as your enforcers. No more! I will hunt Hand down even if I have to do it by myself!"

Suddenly, Atrocitus' body flares. Red plasma engulfs him, burning away his Green Lantern suit. In a red fireball, he blasts off into dead space. I start to take off after the flame-engulfed lantern.

"Kilowog, Salaak. Maybe we can catch him."

"No, Sinestro. Leave Atrocitus be. It is written that one would give in to the red rage in the book. So it has come to pass."

 

[Catman_prb]

Saint Walker breathed a sigh of relief, the blue light still twinkling around his fingers. Katma Tui entwined her fingers in his and looked up into his eyes.

"Please don't go Walker," she asked quietly.

"I think that would be slightly unfair to our young friend here. He's been through quite enough, I do believe. But do not worry. There is light on the other side, and I have taught you enough. Perhaps you could let this one teach you something now. He has a good heart," Walker said, squeezing her hand and smiling paternally at her.

"It has been good to see you again, Walker," she said.

"It has been good to breathe again. Thankyou Kyle Rayner," Walker breathed, opening his mouth wide. A blue smoke fought its way out of Kyle's body, leading him to stagger slightly. He blinked, closed his mouth and moved his arm.

"That was the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me," he gasped.

"And now we have a conundrum, Kyle Rayner and Hal Jordan of Earth. We have more Earthmen than we know what to do with. I suggest that one of you returns to your planet in the interem," Ganthe said, as he sent his favoured Lanterns off to organise the troops.

"Not it!" Kyle said quickly "I'm quite happy here,"

"We should get you checked out, Rayner, I'm not quite sure the effects that a posession would have on the human body," Katma Tui said, looking at her comrade with concern.

"Well hello there," Kyle said, grinning "Fancy a drink back on Oa?"

 

[Batman]

"This is a complete disaster."

We're all sitting around in the back stage area, after being advised to keep out of sight by security until we can get the clearance to leave. Leaving me helpless, and stuck with the evening's presenters - Helena, Mr. Earle, and Dr. Billings, along with Alfred and the head of the observatory's security while the man who tried to kill me is still on the loose. Alfred wordlessly tries to keep me from attempting an escape, but he doesn't know that I'm past that option already. It's bad enough that security is keeping me held here, but I don't need the GCPD looking for me if I've left to hunt down the gunman myself. Leaving me to do nothing is the best way to preserve my identity, but also enables the attacker his getaway. Keeping my arms crossed, I realize that I haven't said a word to anyone since he escaped - when I should be asking them all sorts of questions.

How did he sneak past security? There are metal detectors and security cameras in the front entrance, and he certainly didn't come from the back. Was the weapon given to him from the inside, or did he just hide it too well for the staff to notice? A million scenearios are already racing through my mind, but it's the motive that intrigues me the most. I can understand someone wanting me dead if they believed I was Batman, but they would have had to seriously underestimate me to send such an untrained marksman. I don't think it's about that at all - someone in Gotham legitimately wants Bruce Wayne dead. And why? I can't even begin to imagine.

After minutes of silence, Helena raises her hands in frustration and moves to the other side of the room. Earle clears his throat, giving a worried glance towards her direction.

"I'll go talk to her. I'm sure she's just upset about the presentation, nothing more. You'll be alright in the meantime, won't you?"

I give him a slight nod and smirk, trying to surpress my frustration.

"I'll be fine. Unless someone else marches in here with a gun, I doubt I'll be going anywhere anytime soon."

He gives me a pat on the shoulder and leaves, as Dr. Billings negotiates a restroom break with the head of security. Leaving Alfred and I to ourselves, and out of any listening range. "Did you recognize him from anywhere?"

Alfred picks up what I'm talking about almost immediately, off of the mere tone of my voice. "The gunman? I cannot say that I had, sir. And I've already looked into the list of invitees. His face matches none of the other shareholders."

"Then something's off."

"Well. You were almost shot at point blank range, so I would say that is about as 'off' as you can get."

"That's not what I meant, Alfred."

I sneer, looking past the curtain at the stage, where the bullets hit the podium. "Aside from the press, who were booked last minute, this was a private function that only the invited guests knew about. Whoever the killer was, he was told about it well in advance."

"Bit of a bold prediction. How do you know for sure?"

"Because when he made his move, I got a look into his eyes. It was obvious that he had planned this from the moment he stepped up to the stage. Which meant in all likelihood, he was given considerable time to prepare and an assurance that I'd be in attendance. And you know that even the board wasn't that confident."

"I suppose it's possible, though you've overlooked one sceneario. The idea that he was a disgruntled employee, and Waynetech was forced to give a considerable amount of layoffs in the past year. Perhaps he was one of them, and blamed you for his firing?"

I rub the bridge of my nose, considering what Alfred's telling me as the real motive behind the attack. But it doesn't make sense. He'd have the motive to pull the trigger, but no access to the center's entrances. And the security cameras would have picked it up if he had snuck in through the back.

"I don't know. But we're not gonna get the chance to find out if I stay here any longer."

Just as I finish that sentence, an unexpected sight comes into the area, pushing his way past several of the guests outside. It's a cop - more to the point, it's Lieutenant Nygma. I give Alfred a strange look as he comes closer, before standing up and composing myself. Obviously, we already know eachother, but he's not aware of that. And I can't let on.

Flashing his badge, he immediately approaches me.

"Mister Wayne? I'm Lieutenant Edward Nygma, Major Crimes. I'm here to get your statement and run the crime scene."

We shake hands, though I try to avoid any direct eye contact. He's seen me up close in costume, so there's still a risk to be had in anything telling in my demeanor. If I don't want him suspicious, I'm going to have to play this as casually as humanly possible.

With a chuckle, I rub my hand through my hair and try to play the part of a rattled victim. Something that doesn't come as naturally as many of the other roles I've had to assume over the years.

"Thank Christ you're here, Lieutenant. I was about to go out of my mind, here. Though, you'll have to forgive me if I'm a little fuzzy on the details - it's not every day that you get a gun pressed into your face."

Pulling out a carton of cigarettes from my lapel, I take one out and rummage through my pocket for the lighter. "Mind if I smoke? It's been a hell of a night."

 

[Saved]

Red Hood​

Hunted Prey Part III

Inside Jason’s apartment, turmoil erupts as Jason’s reunion with his former college lab partner, Garfield Logan, is cut short by a masked gunman standing in the doorway. As the man steps inside, the Garfield shifts into a lion, letting out a ferocious roar as he prepares to fight. “Come on, Garfield.” Deathstroke says as he moves in closer. “You know how this will end.”
“Yeah, with you in a coffin.”

“You really should’ve chose a different animal,” he mocks, grinning beneath his mask. “I used to hunt them in Africa for sport!”He shouts, lunging forward to attack. Suddenly, a metal object flies through the air, hitting Deathstroke in the chest and halting his attack. “What the-“ he says in confusion, staring at the strange object stuck by a thick glue to the armor plating of his chest.

“Gar,” Jason suddenly shouts, popping out from the back of the couch. “Close your eyes and cover your ears!” As the two take cover, the flash-bang stuck the mercenary’s chest suddenly explodes, causing Deathstroke to drop his weapons and fall backward as the force of the blast knocks him unconscious.

Slowly, Garfield rises, shifting back to his human form. “What was…”

“Flashbang,” Jason says, leaping to his feet and running into the kitchen. “Always carry a few in my jacket pocket.” Jason rushes over to the oven, opening it and pulling out the helmet stowed away inside. “Hey, look at that,” he says, slipping the helmet over his head.

“You *******s!” The mercenary cries out, his voice oddly in a higher pitch. “I spent four hours in a chemical peel yesterday to cleanse my skin, and now you went and RUINED it!” Jason turns to Garfield, confused by the mercenary’s sudden change in demeanor.
“What’s with…?”
“Oh, yeah – I forgot. He’s got multiple personality disorder.” Jason slumps his shoulders, expressing a look of dissatisfaction.
“What is my life now - a cruel and ironic joke?”

“I’m gonna kill you!” Deathstroke shouts, rising to his feet as he pulls out a jagged blade from the holster at his waist.

“Maybe it’s time we left,” Jason says, hastily moving toward the large window at the back of the room. As Garfield runs after him, Jason looks back to his friend, shielding his body as he prepares to breach the window. “You didn’t happen to come in contact with, like, a condor or some other huge bird, did you?”
“I touched a falcon once.”
“That’ll have to do.”

Bracing for impact, the two jump through the window, sending shattered glass into the air as they quickly become airborne over the city street stories below. As Garfield changes into a falcon, Jason reaches up and grabs him by his feet in desperation. Unable to hold up Jason’s weight, Garfield instantly begins to drop, dragging them both awkwardly through the air. In a stroke of luck, Garfield flies over the rooftop of another building, falling to the hard surface and morphing back into his human form.

“Aw, man,” Jason groans as he recovers from the fall. “When this is over, I’m taking you to a friggin’ zoo.” The two men rise to their feet and continue their flight, running as fast as they can across the rooftops of Gotham.

****​

Moments later, the two men stop as they reach the top of another apartment complex. “What now?” Garfield asks hastily.
“Beats me,” Todd responds, his breathing seeming to echo inside his ‘hood’. “Where are we running to, anyway?” He asks rhetorically. “This guys been chasing you for a while, right?”

“Yeah.”
“And he's right behind you every step of the way?”
“Yeah.”
“You'll never get to Midway at this rate, not if he's stalking you.”
“So…what are you saying?”
“I’m saying we’re going to have to take him out.”
“What, permanently?” Garfield asks unwillingly. “Like, murder?”

“Maybe…” Todd says, pondering quietly to himself. “Or … maybe we don’t have to.” Garfield looks at Jason with a curious face, both intrigued and confused by what his friend means.
“Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He confesses.
“It’s simple. When you’re at a disadvantage, you use your strengths as the enemy’s weakness.”
“What are our strengths?”
“We’re both sane,” Todd grins.
“… Please tell me there’s more to your plan than that.”

“Look, you said Deathstroke has Dissosociative Identity Disorder, right?”
“…I said he has Multiple Personality Disor-“
“Yeah, yeah,” Todd starts, cutting Garfield off. “Same thing, different name. Look, point is, people with DID are subject to memory loss when they switch from one personality to the next. Each one of his ‘identities’ had to have been briefed on the mission to kill you, otherwise when the girl took over, she’d have been disoriented and confused.”
“This psychology lesson is great and all, Jason, but I don’t get how this is going to keep him from slaying us like sheep.”

“Wow, you are really impatient, you know that?” Jason scolds. “As I was saying, what we’re going to do is cycle all his personalities – knock him unconscious from one personality to the next until we’ve put them all to sleep. The trauma this will put on his brain should cause a massive amnesic episode, possibly deleting any memory of you from the last twenty four hours, or so.”
“Yeah, but he’s been hunting me for weeks!” He exclaims in a panic. “He’s still going to know he’s supposed to kill me!”

“How would you feel if you suddenly woke up in the bay of a city you don’t remember going to in the middle of a manhunt?”
“Scared…bewildered…confused as all hell.”
“Exactly,” Jason grins proudly. “He might spend weeks searching Gotham for you – that should give you ample time to get to Midway to find this Caulder guy.”

“You know,” Garfield says slowly as a wide grin comes over his face. “This plan might just be crazy enough to work.” He laughs, slapping Jason’s shoulder. “Wait, how’s he going to end up in the bay?”

“Part two of my plan.” He nods proudly. “The closest dock from here is about a half-a-mile. If we keep our pace, I figure we’ll get there in seven, eight minutes. Come on,” Todd says, jumping off the rooftop as he makes his way toward his premeditated battlefield. “I’ll explain the details of the fight on the way.”

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Alice takes a deep breath and says, "We had a source inside Star Labs we still might actually, but that is not the matter right now. She told me directly she heard what was going to happen, because she was the one ordered to alter the targeting mirrors that would cause the laser to hit you, but she also powered down the laser so it would destroy which it would've."

Maybe mom and dad were right all along and I should've been a dancer. Oh well it's easy to play Monday Morning Quarterback 5 years later.

Alice continues, "The dwarf star compound that was ground up in the lens was the X factor we didn't account for. We thought that there might be a side effect or something like that I had no idea that your powers would be that something. Shortly after you were hit I got the medical report and studied it. I had a friend alter it leaving out your new talents. The doctor treating you initally was asked to step out of the case for a nice peice of change. One of the doctors at the agency treated you and tested your powers while you were out. You see Rhiannon you were in coma, induced by us in the Government because we weren't sure how would react to everything if you were conscious. "

A couple of tears fall down her face as she chokes up, "Out of all the things I have ever done in my life letting you be put into that coma and stealing two months of your life is the one thing I regret the most. However having in you that coma allowed me to keep Waller and other prying eyes at bay. I hope you understand one day and can forgive me."

I do mom...I do.

Alice takes a drink of her bottle water and says, "I know everything and I know that you are using your powers to help in anyway you can, and even though I am not there know that I am very proud of you Rhiannon."

Thanks mom.

Alice finishes her water and says, "I have to go now. I am supposed to meet Waller at the docks and I have a suspicion how it's going to go. I hope this information and the other disc serves you well. Promise me one thing Rhiannon you will not try to solve my murder if it happens. Stop Waller and whatever she is planning and the rest will fall in line. We didn't always agree and things weren't always perfect in our relationship, but know this Rhiannon I have always loved you. Now do what you have to do with this disc. You are the greatest blessing in my life and I love you always."

The disc ends and Rhiannon has tears in her eyes. She then pulls out the disc and a hammer and destroys the disc.

She then finishes her coffee and transforms into The Atom.

I dare the scumballs in this city to piss me off tonight!

 

[Byrd Man]

Just as I finish that sentence, an unexpected sight comes into the area, pushing his way past several of the guests outside. It's a cop - more to the point, it's Lieutenant Nygma. I give Alfred a strange look as he comes closer, before standing up and composing myself. Obviously, we already know each other, but he's not aware of that. And I can't let on.

Flashing his badge, he immediately approaches me.

"Mister Wayne? I'm Lieutenant Edward Nygma, Major Crimes. I'm here to get your statement and run the crime scene."

We shake hands, though I try to avoid any direct eye contact. He's seen me up close in costume, so there's still a risk to be had in anything telling in my demeanor. If I don't want him suspicious, I'm going to have to play this as casually as humanly possible.

With a chuckle, I rub my hand through my hair and try to play the part of a rattled victim. Something that doesn't come as naturally as many of the other roles I've had to assume over the years.

"Thank Christ you're here, Lieutenant. I was about to go out of my mind, here. Though, you'll have to forgive me if I'm a little fuzzy on the details - it's not every day that you get a gun pressed into your face."

Pulling out a carton of cigarettes from my lapel, I take one out and rummage through my pocket for the lighter. "Mind if I smoke? It's been a hell of a night."

"Smoking's bad for you, Mister Wayne. Causes cancer and a bunch of other diseases."

Pull out my pack of cigs and light up.

"Do as I say, not as I do. Anyway, I've got officers getting witness statements right now, searching the ground for the shooter. Hopefully, we'll be able to nab him before he gets too far away from the scene."

Digging in my pockets. Notepad and pen.

"Okay, for starters: Do you have any enemies, Mister Wayne?"

 

[Byrd Man]

Saint Walker breathed a sigh of relief, the blue light still twinkling around his fingers. Katma Tui entwined her fingers in his and looked up into his eyes.

"Please don't go Walker," she asked quietly.

"I think that would be slightly unfair to our young friend here. He's been through quite enough, I do believe. But do not worry. There is light on the other side, and I have taught you enough. Perhaps you could let this one teach you something now. He has a good heart," Walker said, squeezing her hand and smiling paternally at her.

"It has been good to see you again, Walker," she said.

"It has been good to breathe again. Thankyou Kyle Rayner," Walker breathed, opening his mouth wide. A blue smoke fought its way out of Kyle's body, leading him to stagger slightly. He blinked, closed his mouth and moved his arm.

"That was the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me," he gasped.

"And now we have a conundrum, Kyle Rayner and Hal Jordan of Earth. We have more Earthmen than we know what to do with. I suggest that one of you returns to your planet in the interem," Ganthe said, as he sent his favoured Lanterns off to organise the troops.

"Not it!" Kyle said quickly "I'm quite happy here,"

"We should get you checked out, Rayner, I'm not quite sure the effects that a posession would have on the human body," Katma Tui said, looking at her comrade with concern.

"Well hello there," Kyle said, grinning "Fancy a drink back on Oa?"

Oa

I sit at the back of the bar and watch Katma and Rayner share drinks. I promised her family I would look after her. It would seem I'm not the only one keeping an eye on her.

Standing up, I walk towards the other Earthman.

"Jordan, walk with me."

With a nod, he follows me out the door of the bar. Lanterns work to fix the damage The rebuilding process on Oa goes slow, but it goes.

"I suppose you had an interesting first day, to say the least."