The New Ultimate DC RPG

[Johnny Blaze]

He was tossed into the barren, closet-sized room by two armed guards, falling hard to the metal floor.

Weakly, he tugged up at the collar that wrapped his neck like a vice.

"Get used to it, freak", growled one of the guards as he kicked their prisoner hard in the ribs.
He was a large, mean-spirited man, easily six-and-a-half feet and over two-hundred and fifty pounds. His long, black, oil-upped hair was a tangled mess, and he boasted a large scar running down the side of his left cheek and across his lips.
Bonnar, his name tag read.

"You're here ta stay."





"Meal time, *******!"
Bonnar shouted as he tossed the bowl of oatmeal into the lap of the handcuffed man, splattering it's hot contents all over him and the floor.

"Enjoy", Bonnar smiled, a toothless grin as he slammed the cell door shut.




"You're gonna get it now, freak", snarled Bonnar as he beat the living hell out of the man with a steel baton.
"Who the **** do you think you are, embarrassin' me boy! I will ****ing end you!"

"I could give two ****s about Ivo's little project. He can find some other lab rat", he continued on as he smashed his baton into the prisoner's ribs, again, and again, and again...

--------------------

Amazo's eyes shot open as he awoke on top of a stained mattress lying in the middle of a dilapidated room.
Moonlight streamed in through the broken windows making the cold sweat covering Amazo's face glisten.

It was so vivid, almost as if he were actually reliving the shattered memories still fresh in his mind. He could almost feel the intense pain from the beating he had taken from that Cadmus guard.

"Bonnar", John recalled.
"Franklin Bonnar..."

--------------------

"God dammit", Bonnar mumbled under his breath as he dropped his keys in his hands. It was night time, and even with the few street lights it was difficult for him to see. Especially in his inebriated condition.

Reaching down, he scraped around the ground for his prize, and, after nearly a minute of searching, finally snatched the keys up.

Bonnar let out a loud, wet belch as he unlocked his front door. He turned the handle and began to open it when he was grabbed from behind and slammed head first into the door.

The door to the apartment swung violently open as the Bonnar was pushed into his place and thrown hard onto the tile floor.

"What the ****", he drunkenly yelled as he tried to get up.

"Don't. ****ing. Move."

The door gently closed, and the clicking of the lock echoed ominously through the apartment.

Bonnar squinted in the darkness trying to get a look at his attacker.

"What's a matter, *****", he slurred.
"Why don' you quit hidin'."

The light switch on the wall flipped up, and the living room was suddenly illuminated.

Bonnar's eyes went wide as the man seemed to sober up instantly.

"Jesus Christ", he muttered under his breath in fear as a stone-faced Amazo silently stood over him.

"Hi, Frank. Been a while. Don't worry though. We've got the whole day to catch up."

 

[Belvedere]

The Fantastic Four
Part IV

Rose Scott loves her husband dearly.

She would be lying however if she told you that Alan Scott was her first love. That honour belongs to her husband’s best friend, the best man at their wedding, none other than Ted Grant. During his reign as heavyweight champion of the World he would split his time between Las Vegas and Gotham City, during the months that Grant was present the two were inseparable however when he left for Vegas she wouldn’t hear from him from months. There was something about dating the heavyweight champion of the World, the lifestyle that came with that and the sheer animal ferocity that Grant exuded that made her fall for him.

Canton remembered the day she realised that her heart belonged to her boyfriend’s best friend and her long-time confidante Alan Scott as if it were yesterday. The “Fantastic Four” as the newspapers had dubbed them returned from one of their legendary benders and appeared on the doorstep of the Canton family bar. Rose Canton’s father was had become used to the four of them stopping by and drinking to their heart’s content, often leaving without paying a single cent; but the patriarch of the Canton family knew how deeply in love his daughter was with Grant, so turned a blind eye to the trouble the four men would cause.

As Grant entered the bar Canton tiptoed to kiss him on the cheek, to which he slapped her on her bottom playfully and made his way to the bar; Thomas Canton tried his best to pretend he hadn’t seen it and rubbed down a few glasses with a rag before throwing it over his shoulder.

“What can I do for you boys tonight?” Thomas said as he feigned a smile.

Stumbling into the bar came Cyrus Gold, who was being supported by Wesley Dodds. The two of them laughed hysterically as they made their way towards the bar, Canton looked them up and down and rolled his eyes; he had learned from experience that both men were notorious lightweights, even the slightest sniff of alcohol would have them giggling like schoolgirls. A few seconds after they’d stumbled in Alan Scott entered the establishment, he was the only one out of the four who appeared to be slightly sober and he smiled warmly at Rose as he walked past her before taking a seat at the bar.

“Two bottles of scotch will do just fine for now Tommy” Grant barked with a grin, Rose’s chubby father grabbed two bottles of scotch and placed them on the bar, leaving a few glasses before disappearing upstairs for a few moments. Amid the hysterical laughter of Gold and Dodds the heavyweight champion beckoned his on and off girlfriend towards him and she approached him tentatively; the seat next to him was occupied by Alan Scott, who upon noticing Rose approaching her stood up and offered her his seat.

As simple as it may sound the gesture moved Rose more than any of the fur coats that Ted Grant had provided for her, more than the wild animal sex Grant and Rose had shared for the past few months; as Ted whispered sweet nothings into the redhead’s ear she found her green eyes transfixed upon Alan; suddenly she saw him as more than a friend, in that instant he became more than a shoulder for her to cry on when she’d found traces of Grant’s infidelities. She realised that she would never be the same again.

“I’m just calling to say I love you… you’re the best thing that’s every happened to me Alan Scott, don’t you ever forget that.” Said Rose Scott into her cell phone, as usual she had been unable to reach Alan; but nonetheless she was more than willing to pour her heart into her husband’s voicemail in the hopes that when he listened to it he’d smile.

As she shut her cell phone and placed it on the glass coffee table she glanced around their bedroom with tired eyes. The walls were covered with pictures of the couple on number of several exotic holidays or shaking hands with a number of celebrities, but despite this she couldn’t help but feel something was missing. Rose laid flat on her and Alan’s bed and rubbed her stomach with a sigh, despite the fortune that her husband had amassed and all the world possessions they owned none of these things would ever make up for the loss of her son. The sound of soft knocking on the bedroom door made Rose sit up, in her doorway with a concerned look on her face stood their maid Juanita “Are you okay Mrs Scott?” she said tenderly.

Rose looked around the room with glazed eyes and then glanced down at her stomach before nodding unconvincingly at Juanita, running a solitary porcelain hand through what was once red hair, now greyed with age and stress, before answering her maid with a trembling voice.

“I’m fine Juanita… Everything’s just fine.”

 

[Saved]

Red Hood​

The Chase Part VI

Dagget Industries - Chemical Plant 012

The Red Hood rolls around on the ground in pain, gagging on his own air as he tries to breath. The yellowish green gas continues to spill from the two tubes left by the thief as he made his escape. Todd stares at them through his mask's eyes, tears welling up in them as he tries to focus.

Capsules, he thinks, wishing he could speak. Those tubes are like portable icepacks. Just as the icepack is broken, the two chemicals inside mix and create a reaction - turning the pack ice cold. The thief must've done the same with these tubes. Jason exhales heavily, then, he holds his breath. He knows he has minimal time inside the room - he must escape.

Gaining a second wind, Todd leaps forward, flying through the doorway and into the hallway. He rolls recklessly, his vision beginning to blur. Moving into an awkward run, he crawls, then leaps down the hallway - doing whatever possible to escape the gas. As he makes it halfway down the hallway, he breathes, no longer able to hold his lungs shut. "Dammit..." he coughs, his voice moving to a wheeze. The gas - chlorine. It has to be. Two chemicals mixing together to make the noxious gas. "His style," he moans, staggering to his feet. "Not...much *cough* time..." he says, his breathing labored.

He takes in a deep breath and focuses. His time is running out, he knows he must get help. Who? He asks himself, making his way down the hallways. Hospital? No...no, they'll figure it out. It's gotta be subtle. He comes to a doorway and throws his body through it, knocking the door open and tripping an alarm. The building errupts in sirens, loud speakers blurting deep bellowing hums and screams. As if this wasn't hard enough.

As he runs across the dirt plane a head, he sees a ray of hope - a sight he couldn't appreciate more. His motorcycle is parked only yards away, the keys left in the engine. Good thing I planned for a speedy escape, he grins. In seconds Todd makes it to his bike, jumping on and revving the engine hard. He peels out in a circle, kicking up dirt and gravel into the air as he drives forward - heading for the highway. He takes the off road course, the gates on this side are flimsy. Perfect.

He floors it, pushing the bike as hard as it can go. He aims for a weak, rusted section, one already coming apart. He closes his eyes and prays - Come on, God. Little slack? The bike rams into the chainlink fence, somehow ripping apart the metal and skidding across the road on the other side. Todd stops the bike, gaining balance after the crash. He opens his eyes and stares at the broken chain of fence, smiling as he stiffles a cough. Thanks, man. He says in his head as he revvs the engine and speeds off down the road and through the city streets. I owe you.

Todd does his best to drive, his eyes still burned from the exposure to the gas. The smell lingers on his clothes - a horrible stench, remniscent of death. He breaths slowly, his breaths short and heavy. As he rockets down the streets of Gotham at speeds easily twenty miles above the limit, he goes back to the burning question from before - Help. Where? He ponders hard, hoping to find some name that will come to mind. Bruce? No. He wouldn't be home. He grits his teeth as he feels his eyes and nostrils swell. Dear God...think, Jason, think!

As the images of the buildings soaring past him begin to become a blur of lights and shadows, Todd suddenly gets it - his saving grace. CRANE! He shouts in his head, his mouth forming a grin. That's it! Arkham's like a mile or so away. I just need to stay conscious long enough to make it there. With an abrubt and dangerous manevuer, Todd turns at the red light, cutting off two cars and nearly causing a pile up. Their horns scream at him in anger, the drivers roaring in rage. He doesn't care. It's a race now - against time and against his body.

****
​

Five minutes passby in what seems like the blink of an eye. Todd's bike continues to push the limits of its engine as he speeds across the bridge and onto Arkham's territory. He makes a turn at the open gate, taking the roads into the housing of Arkham's employees. He's been here many times, picking up Harley and dropping her off after their nights of romance. Crane's house is...WF3, he says, his brain pushing its limits as well. Damn I can't believe I remember that...Luck. I need it.

He pulls into a street and slams on the brakes, skidding to a halt and falling onto his side as it screeches to a stop. He limps off the bike and crawls forward across the small lawn in front of the housing. "Almost..." he moans, pushing himself to his feet. He staggers onto the walkway and makes his way to the door. Suddenly, he realizes the helmet still on his head. He pulls it off violently, scratching his face as he removes it. Grabbing it in one hand, he tosses it with force, sending it flying through the air and into the bushes lining the end of the street. Exhausted, he falls forward into the door, banging on the pine wood with repeated punches of frustration and pain. "Crane!" He shouts, his coughs returning. "CRANE!" He screams again, his knees wabbling as he leans on the doorframe to keep his balance.

The door suddenly opens and Todd looks up, his eyes puffy and bloodshot. His breathing becomes unstable, his wheezes becoming stronger. He feels as if he is trying to breath underwater, gasping for air that isn't there. Crane stares at Todd in shock, startled by the sight of the man at his doorstep in the middle of the night. Todd musters the strength to say one thought - a single word that conveys the point he's trying to make so well. "Help."

 

[Catman_prb]

Two men stepped into the cold, concrete room that was lit by a single bare lightbulb. Jim Gordon looked at the man sat on the metal seat opposite with disgust; a man who sold underage girls to perverts for a profit.

"First chance. Who hired Eva Green the night she died?" he said frostily.

The pimp spat on the table contemptuously.

"**** you pig," he snarled. Jim smiled. He liked it when they wouldn't talk.

"Harvey, lock the door," he said quietly. The larger man nodded, closing the door to the room and locking it. Without any further ado, the Comissioner punched the criminal in the jaw, sending him flying from the chair and onto the concrete floor.

"Who?" he asked again. The pimp turned around and smiled with a bloodied mouth.

"I'm not telling you anything," he spat. Jim smiled, nodded and kicked the man hard in the ribs. He let out a gasp and curled up on the floor.

"Kid, in a few minutes I'm going to let you go. Believe me when I tell you that I'm going easy on you, cos the second you get within half a metre of this place, the Black Mask is gonna have you killed. Messily. You know his reputation as well as I do," Gordon said, picking the scrawny man up and slamming him into the wall of the interrogation room. His eyes widened in panic.

"Swear you'll protect me," he gasped, as Gordon's hand closed around his throat.

"I swear," Gordon said.

"He wasn't a regular, but I've heard of him before. They call him the Tally Man. I didn't know what he was gonna do, honest. I like Eva, she was a good kid," the pimp said. Jim backhanded him onto the floor. He looked up at Bullock.

"That'll help," he said quietly "Now get this scum out of my station,"

The pimp's eyes widened.

"You said you'd protect me," he whispered. Jim Gordon looked at the man who had signed Eva Green over to her death with cold blue eyes.

"I lied," he said coolly.

"You're insane," the man stated. Bullock smirked, and even Gordon cracked a small smile.

"I'm the law," Jim said simply.

 

[Spike_x1]

I can't believe it. Is there something watching over this city, just waiting for labs to begin high-risk experiments so that an accident can happen and create a superpowered menace? This time it happened at a S.T.A.R. Labs facility that only just opened last month. I even helped Ron write the story on it's opening.

From what I can gather, a certain doctor name Frederick Franklin had a project that he was working on that could displace an object from linear time, creating a duplicate of that object from nanoseconds in the past.

Yeah, I can't really wrap my head around it either. But apparently, this Dr. Franklin could understand the logic behind it. Theoretically. From what Franklin's colleagues told me before I rushed in to the burning laboratory, his machine blew up in his face, and there were four versions of Franklin when they last saw him, and they were all going nuts. As I float through the fiery building, I try using my X-ray vision to find any more survivors, but they all appear to have made it out safely. All that's left in here are Dr. Franklin and myself. I can see two of him running around on a floor above me. Their heartbeats are almost in unison with one another, lending more credence to the idea that they're the same person, just barely out of sync with the other in time. I can't find where the other two versions of him are in the building. Is it possible that he reabsorbed them back into himself?

I fly through the ceiling, and come up through the floor in front of Franklin, to his surprise. "Doctor?" I shout over the roar of the flames. "I'm going to have to ask that you come with me. I'll get you out of this fire, and we'll sort this whole mess out."

"Shaddup!"
"Shaddup!"

Both of them turn to yell at me, and I admit that the sight is a little unsettling. I can see what can only be described as a touch of insanity in their eyes, which is a sight that I'm sad to say is becoming more and more common in the superpowered people I meet in Metropolis.

"You're one of them! Come to get me!"
"Snatch me from time! I won't let you!"

Before I can reply and try to reassure Dr. Franklin that I'm only here to help him, he duplicates himself at will, creating a third version of him. Oh great. The next thing I know, all three of them have tackled me through the burning wall and out into the fresh air. They aren't nearly as strong as I am, but they do seem to have been granted enhanced strength from the accident, and with their combined attack, I think that I might be in for a rough night.

Flying through the air with three warped version of Doctor Franklin clinging to me, and trying to punch and kick me, isn't the most pleasant experience in the world. Many people don't know this, but flying is trickier than I usually make it seem. You need a good sense of balance and concentration; both of which are things that Franklin is throwing off for me at the moment.

"Gonna send you crashing back to Earth, freak!"
"Yeah! Gonna use you as kindling to set the whole world on fire for what all of you did to us!"
"Work, work, work! No time for a real life! No break!"
"Gimme a break!"
"Gimme a break!"
"Break me off a piece of that Kit-Kat Bar!"

That's when I plowed into a tree, just off of S.T.A.R. Labs' parking lot. The impact sent the three Fred Franklins head over heels into the grass while I regained my bearings. I don't think that these guys/this guy is actually capable of hurting me to any serious degree, but I'll admit that it was a hassle to avoid crashing in the middle of the parking lot, where the other lab workers have gathered after evacuating the building. After taking a second to pry myself loose from the splintered remains of the tree, I look over to where Franklin landed, and am surprised to find that there are now six of them instead of three, and they're looking less and less human. "Oh, nuts."

"The impact," one of them grumbles before grinning to the others.

Puzzled, I'm about to ask what about the impact, when two of the Franklins jump at me. I catch them both by their shirt collars, one in each hand, and decide to try knocking these two unconscious.

Bad idea.

I slam both of them together, but the force of the impact has an unexpected reaction, and those two Franklins split apart, creating two more duplicates (and a total of eight now), and none of them appear to have been hurt at all.

As they're giggling like the maniacs they are, one of them bursts into a hefty belly laugh. "The force of us hitting the ground! You slamming those two together! Can't you see?! It only makes more of us, you fool! And the power of those hits is evenly distributed among us!" As Franklin explains it, I feel like an idiot. "Maybe if there was only one of us, you could hit me and I'd split into two unconscious versions of myself. Hell, maybe you still can knock me unconscious with a punch. Of course, with an unknown level of superstrength on my side, combined with how many of me there are right now, it's probably a little tricky to judge just how hard I'd need to be hit. I'm willing to bet that you won't risk hitting me too hard and killing me, nor would you want to hit me too lightly and create more of me." Grinning so wide that the dried and crumbling skin around his mouth starts pulling itself apart, this talkative Frederick Franklin is so full of himself that it almost makes me sick. Grinding my teeth, I'm trying to think of a solution when one of the Dr. Franklins comes out of nowhere and punches me in the jaw. I can't say I'm hurt or that I'll have a bruise, but he definitely caught my attention.

"Whatsamatter, Supertroop? Feeling a little intimidated?"

I'll just have to try to get them all in one place and keep them there until a real solution presents itself. I'll start with... this one! Rushing at one of them at superspeed, I grab his arm in an iron grip, but two more hop onto my shoulders and reach down to try to choke me, while more of them begin running towards the nearby crowd of scientists.

This evening just keeps getting better and better.

 

[Gallagher]

The door suddenly opens and Todd looks up, his eyes puffy and bloodshot. His breathing becomes unstable, his wheezes becoming stronger. He feels as if he is trying to breath underwater, gasping for air that isn't there. Crane stares at Todd in shock, startled by the sight of the man at his doorstep in the middle of the night. Todd musters the strength to say one thought - a single word that conveys the point he's trying to make so well. "Help."
​

"Doctor Todd?" Crane manages to mutter as he stares at the seemingly close-to-death young man in his doorway. "You look dreadfull what the hell happened?" He asked as Jason Todd collapsed onto him, Johnathan Crane helped him over to a chair and let him sit.

"That smell... Chlorine?"

 

[Matt Murdock]

​

"...At which point, the individual in question struck me in the jaw. I felt threatened for my safety, if not my life. I detected liquor on his breath before he struck me in the face, causing this gash" Harvey Dent said, pointing an indignant finger at one of the numerous cuts on his lower lip. "Fearing for the well-being of the woman I brought to the club, I struck the man. He tried to hit me once again. Realizing that the threat against me and my company was hardly dealt with, I punched him once again. After that, he summoned several of his accomplices and made a threat in numbers against me, completely disregarding the woman who had accompanied me."

Harvey looked around. The Gotham City police precinct was abuzz with activity. Officers darting this way and that. Harvey rolled his eyes at the thought of how many of them were on the take, in someone's pocket, or, worst of all, simply and utterly inept. Seated in front of Harvey, was Officer Steven J. Travoligini. In the hubbub of the police station, Travoligini's desk was relatively calm. He and Assistant District Attorney Harvey Dent had been talking for close to two hours about a variety of topics. Evidently, Travoligini had a fifteen year old daughter. She had just gotten her braces off, gone to her senior formal, and met a boy name Billy and, by golly, did she ever like him. What relevance these subjects bore to the topic of a bar brawl that Dent had participated in, the intrepid Assistant DA couldn't fathom. He supposed that he owed his current predicament to his fleeting interest in one of the photo's on the officer's desk.

"Now." Harvey chirped brightly, "Will there be anything else, Officer Travoligni?"
​

"Uh... I think... I've got... everything." The officer said, scrawling a few more letters onto the pad he had opened on his sheet of paper. He reached down and picked up a large, clear, zip-lock style evidence bag and pushed it to Dent without even looking up from his pad.

"Your effects."

Dent pulled out wallet, cellular phone, and lucky coin, stuffing them into his jean pockets. He slid his watch on and clipped it on. He pulled his leather jacket out as well, pulling it over his blood-stained t-shirt. He slouched back down in the chair, throwing one leg over the other. The officer pulled out a pile of papers.

"Sign these and you can be on your way." He said, thrusting a pen in the Assistant DA's hand.

Dent scrawled his name on the appropriate lines and got to his feet, tugging on his coat. Running a hand through his styled hair, Harvey felt his bruises and cuts. He ran his finger inside his inner lip and scanned his finger, checking for blood. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was 2:30 in the morning; three hours since the brawl at the bar. Dent rubbed his jaw and glanced around.

He spotted Gilda rounding a corner he was approaching, and glanced around, looking for a way to escape, any way at all. The walls of the hallway he was in were solid brick. He could tell from the look on her face that she wasn't pleased.

"You. With me. Now." She hissed under her breath, leading him to an empty interrogation room.

Dent grumbled something under his breath as she led him into the room and slammed the door behind them. He didn't make a quick-witted remark, or say anything juvenile. There was a time and place for comments like that, and this was not it.

"I was hugely embarrassed by what happened at the bar. Not to mention terrified." Gilda stated, calmly. "I could have been injured. Did that ever occur to you? I mean it would have been one thing had you had any Neanderthal reaction and swung back."

Harvey rolled his eyes as she spoke which, naturally, only added to Gilda's frustration.

"But your response was deliberately malicious. People could have been hurt... people were hurt! I could have been hurt. But you’ve not once considered that, because contrary to the rumor that you are the center of the universe, clearly youare the entire universe."

"We done?" Dent asked, quietly.

"For now." Gilda said.

"I... apologize." He muttered, somewhat ashamed of himself. "I didn't think. You know I would never do anything to put you in jeopardy deliberately."

"That's why they're called 'accidents.'" Gilda murmured, folding her arms and looking away.

"Gilda..." Harvey said quietly, before she made eye contact with him again, "I'm sorry. My behavior was unacceptable for someone who wants to run for DA in this city."

"Knowing Gotham..." She said, placing a hand on her hip, "You might've actually earned yourself some votes..."

"Wouldn't that be something?"

 

[Saved]

"Doctor Todd?" Crane manages to mutter as he stares at the seemingly close-to-death young man in his doorway. "You look dreadfull what the hell happened?" He asked as Jason Todd collapsed onto him, Johnathan Crane helped him over to a chair and let him sit.

"That smell... Chlorine?"

"Crane..." Jason says heavily, his nose now completely numb in pain. "Inhaled...Chlorine gas..." He holds up his hand and motions a number, fourteen. "...m-min...utes ago." Talk, dammit! Jason screams in his head, forcing his body past its limits. "Breathe!" He shouts, going right into a cough.

 

[Gallagher]

"Crane..." Jason says heavily, his nose now completely numb in pain. "Inhaled...Chlorine gas..." He holds up his hand and motions a number, fourteen. "...m-min...utes ago." Talk, dammit! Jason screams in his head, forcing his body past its limits. "Breathe!" He shouts, going right into a cough.

"We need to get you to the medical lab." Crane said grabbing his keys from the coffee table and attempting to throw Jason's arm over his shoulder.

"No... No time." Splutters the young man.

"Listen to me." Crane said, making eye contact with Todd. "You're going to die." The doctor said matter-of-factly, almost coldly.

"I might be able to help you here, however."

Crane ran into a different room and returned moments later with a syringe. He plunged the needle into Jason Todd's neck causing the young man to howl in pain.

"Steroids." He explains, bluntly, rushing back into the other room. Water could be heard seconds later gushing from a tap. "Get up and get your clothes off." Crane said lifting the dying man from his chair and ripping the jacket off of his torso and guiding him into the next room where a bath was steadily filling up. The doctor threw a concoction of different liquids into it before grabbing hold of Jason's head and plunging it under water. The young man stuggled, kicking his legs until Crane brought him back up.

"We need to rinse the residue from your body, namely anywhere it can enter the body, eyes, nose, mouth, ears." Crane explained, dunking the young Todd's head under once more. "Get the rest of your clothing off and get in." He ordered.

 

[Saved]

"We need to get you to the medical lab." Crane said grabbing his keys from the coffee table and attempting to throw Jason's arm over his shoulder.

"No... No time." Splutters the young man.

"Listen to me." Crane said, making eye contact with Todd. "You're going to die." The doctor said matter-of-factly, almost coldly.

"I might be able to help you here, however."

Crane ran into a different room and returned moments later with a syringe. He plunged the needle into Jason Todd's neck causing the young man to howl in pain.

"Steroids." He explains, bluntly, rushing back into the other room. Water could be heard seconds later gushing from a tap. "Get up and get your clothes off." Crane said lifting the dying man from his chair and ripping the jacket off of his torso and guiding him into the next room where a bath was steadily filling up. The doctor threw a concoction of different liquids into it before grabbing hold of Jason's head and plunging it under water. The young man stuggled, kicking his legs until Crane brought him back up.

"We need to rinse the residue from your body, namely anywhere it can enter the body, eyes, nose, mouth, ears." Crane explained, dunking the young Todd's head under once more. "Get the rest of your clothing off and get in." He ordered.

The whole situation becomes increasingly more awkward for Jason. Were he able to speak, he'd say something to break the tension - ease the mood. But right now was not the time for jokes - his life still hangs in the balance, and he knows he teeters the line between life and death.

Quickly, Todd strips his clothes pulling down his pants and kicking off his shoes, moving now with more speed than he had before. The steroids were working. He could feel his throat beginning to open now, allowing air to flow to his lungs more easily than before. His coughs begin to lessen as he pulls off his t-shirt and tosses it aside. Jason has become so absorbed with staying alive he completely forgot what he was wearing underneath it all - the vest.

"Oh ****..." he says in a short breath, looking to Crane who was keeping watch. Jason simply removes the bullet proof vest and drops it to the floor. No going back now, he thinks quietly as he steps into the tub. Immediately he begins washing, cleaning the chlorine chemicals from his skin. As the warm water rinses over his face he feels his skin loosen, the fiery twinge on his body begining to subside.

Todd rises from the water, eager to get out of the pool beneath now filled with the chlorine gas residue. He steps out of the tub and onto the bathroom floor, nearly slipping as his head continues to spin. He grabs hold of the wall and steadies himself, leaning with all his weight against the tile. He wipes the soapy water from his face and shakes his head violently, gaining a sense of clarity. As Crane stares at him, Todd laughs awkwardly, acompanying the chuckle with a few coughs. "Got a towel?" He replies in a strained voice, his witty persona returning.

 

[Gallagher]

The whole situation becomes increasingly more awkward for Jason. Were he able to speak, he'd say something to break the tension - ease the mood. But right now was not the time for jokes - his life still hangs in the balance, and he knows he teeters the line between life and death.

Quickly, Todd strips his clothes pulling down his pants and kicking off his shoes, moving now with more speed than he had before. The steroids were working. He could feel his throat beginning to open now, allowing air to flow to his lungs more easily than before. His coughs begin to lessen as he pulls off his t-shirt and tosses it aside. Jason has become so absorbed with staying alive he completely forgot what he was wearing underneath it all - the vest.

"Oh ****..." he says in a short breath, looking to Crane who was keeping watch. Jason simply removes the bullet proof vest and drops it to the floor. No going back now, he thinks quietly as he steps into the tub. Immediately he begins washing, cleaning the chlorine chemicals from his skin. As the warm water rinses over his face he feels his skin loosen, the fiery twinge on his body begining to subside.

Todd rises from the water, eager to get out of the pool beneath now filled with the chlorine gas residue. He steps out of the tub and onto the bathroom floor, nearly slipping as his head continues to spin. He grabs hold of the wall and steadies himself, leaning with all his weight against the tile. He wipes the soapy water from his face and shakes his head violently, gaining a sense of clarity. As Crane stares at him, Todd laughs awkwardly, acompanying the chuckle with a few coughs. "Got a towel?" He replies in a strained voice, his witty persona returning.

"My my Doctor." Crane began tossing the young man a towel. "What an interesting nightlife you must lead." He smirks nodding toward the bulletproof vest lying on the bathroom floor.

"I think I'm owed an explanation."

 

[Saved]

"My my Doctor." Crane began tossing the young man a towel. "What an interesting nightlife you must lead." He smirks nodding toward the bulletproof vest lying on the bathroom floor.

"I think I'm owed an explanation."

Todd begins to panic, his heart beating faster by the minute. His airways continue to open, but the damage has been done. His body needs to recover - rebuild what has been broken. As he tries to think of a good lie, his eyes flutter back into his head, his consciousness fading. His head feels light, almost numb - his eyes tired, and weary. "Mind if...we pick this up...later?" He asks, stumbling forward as he tries to make his way back into the other room.

Jason wraps the towel around his body as his dizziness increases. "Oh damn..." he groans, putting his hand to his head. "Freakin hell." He bumps into the side of a sofa in the other room and sighs in relief, his breathing still wheezy. "Mind if I crash, Crane?" He asks, flopping onto the sofa and closing his eyes. "I just need...a minute." With his exhaling breath, Todd falls into a fast sleep, drifting off uncontrollably from exhaustion. As he begins to dream, his mind thinks on one thing - focussing on it alone.

The vest, Jason...he saw the vest...How do you explain this mess...?

 

[Batman]

"Your fate's been decided."

Even from over a block away, the silent figure could hear their threat. Stalked within the shadows, perched upon a building's ledge, he had already found the warehouse they were going to based off of registries and lease documents that the perpetrator had signed just under a month ago - and now he was watching, waiting... and listening to their every move. The cowl's microphone and sensory technology was sensitive enough to breach their van's walls, and though he hadn't picked up the entire conversation, he had heard enough to know that his suspicion was right - it had evolved from a possible mugging to a kidnapping in just a few short minutes. Leering with careful eyes, Batman advanced from the shadows and watched as the van finally arrived, pulling onto the pier and as far away from any public street as possible.

Five heat signatures detected. Four of five possibly armed, The Oracle informed him. PROXIMITY SCAN COMPLETED: Other heat signatures detected within vincinity. Caution is advised.

An entire operation, He thought. There's more to this.

Leaping off of the building, Batman somersaulted into the air, using his cape as leverage as he swooped himself high above the gap. The kidnappers were just below him as he advanced, but he was careful not to get their attention. Any attempt to do so would undoubtedly either endanger the girl, or cause them to panic and alert the others inside. Either option decreased the chances of survival of both the hostage and himself - he'd experienced many similar situations while in training during his years in Iraq. He'd need to play it quietly and as an observer, until he knew what he was up against. Or until he felt the girl was in immediate danger. Deciding that he'd cross that bridge when he came to it, The Dark Knight silently landed, and vaulted from shadow to shadow - virtually invisible to the men below.

"I'd apologize for the discretion,", a cocky Mandrake told the misty-eyed teenager, just as her mouth was covered by another of the thugs to prevent a cry for help. "But if your father knew where exactly we were, there'd really be no point, now would there?"

And instantly, Batman realized who the girl was. The realization hit him as soon as the thugs' emphasis on her father became apparent. The red hair, the look of her age - it was all rather remarkably familiar. He wasn't sure why he hadn't realized it before.

Female individual identified as - Senior Student of Gotham Heights High School. Age seventeen. Full name-

"I know who it is.", He whispered, with a sneer. "Damn you, Gordon..."

Despite their seemingly similar interests at hand, Commissioner James Gordon wasn't a man that Bruce Wayne or Batman were particularly fond of. Back when Wayne had first returned to Gotham City a little over three years ago, he learned that the disgruntled cop had been in charge of Gotham's Major Crimes Unit for nearly half a decade, only for it's methods to be repeatedly called into question by both outside officials and eyewitness testimonies. And whether Gordon knew it or not, there was a good reason for that - more than half of the MCU was corrupt. The Commissioner's inability to salvage this made taking up a crusade of vigilantism that much harder to persue, not to mention allowed too much suffering for Gotham's citizens. But it was for a reason much more personal that Batman held a grudge against Gordon: On the night of John Grayson's murder, Gordon was the first officer to arrive on the scene. And seeing Batman leave the scene itself had caused the cop to assume he was the man responsible - leading to both a public outing of Batman's existence, and condemnation leading to an all points bulletin for his arrest. That lack of proper judgment had taken the focus off of the true criminals in the city, and made things much more difficult.

He didn't trust that kind of impairment. Nor would he have been surprised if similar tactics had caused Gordon's daughter to be the subject of a kidnapping ploy by ganglords. But despite whoever the blame rested with, the deed was done and the girl's life hung in the balance. And if Gordon was powerless to save her, it would fall upon his shoulders - despite his ill-will towards a man he'd been forced to consider an enemy out of. Looking up at the rafters above him, Batman threw out a grappling line and quickly scaled the wall of the warehouse to get a better look at the situation inside.

Advancing, he could only watch as Barbara Gordon found herself in the midst of, literally, dozens of armed men and hired muscle roamed the factory of drug cartels and weapon shipments. It was definitely an operation of sorts - but the men were none that he could discern from one mob boss or another. Someone new was running the show, and obviously, they were in a high position of power to be thriving upon such business without being discovered for this long. Despite it all, Batman wasn't worried about the girl's safety at the immediate moment. Because even if the hoods were unfamiliar faces, they were still byproducts of the criminal mind. Which means he had the edge - he knew how they worked. Dirty, but smart as long as they were deluded into believing they were in control. He saw no reason to enlighten them otherwise.

They'll let her live for as long as they need to,, He asserted. For now, I'll just need to play the waiting game.

 

[Byrd Man]

Wayne Tower

"Okay, Richard. Time to wake up!" Mrs. Cooper says as she shakes me awake.

I've been living here at the tower for two days now. In that time I've met Alfred, but haven't seen hide nor hair of Bruce Wayne.

Probably too busy driving sports cars, doing supermodels and lines of cocaine. No skin off my back, though.

Mrs. Cooper enrolled me at some private school out in the county, Grummett or some crap.

I roll over in bed and manage to drag myself up.

"Good morning, Richard." Alfred says as he fools with his Blackberry at the kitchen table.

"Hello, Jarvis...I mean, Mr. Jarvis."

"No need for formalities, just call me Alfred."

"Well, if that's the case, you can just call me Rick." I mumble as I slide up at the table across from him.

"Rick it is. So, Rick. You ready for school?"

"I guess." I say as I pick at my bacon and eggs.

"Grummett is one of the finest prepatory schools on the Eastern Seaboard, Mr. Wayne himself went there as a boy."

"Speaking of him, where the hell is he?"

"Mr. Wayne has to deal with business in a variety of different things, sometimes he has to travel for that purpose."

"Is that a fancy way of saying he'd rather **** a movie star then spend time here?"

"Richard!" Mrs. Cooper says as she walks into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Alfred. But he has quite a mouth on him."

Alfred does his best to hide a smile as he refills his coffee cup.

"It's okay, Harriet. I've heard much worse."

"Okay, Richard. Time to get your things. It's time for school."

****************
​

Grummett Prepatory School

It's about lunch time and I'm bored out of my mind. My pre-algebra teacher looks a hundred years old and smells like he hasn't had a shower in twice as long.

I'm the first one out of the classroom as soon as the bell rings.

Standing at my locker, a fat boy with blonde hair comes up to me with a look in his eys I know all too well.

"You're the new kid, right? Your dad was the cop that Batman killed, yeah?"

I remain silent and only nod as I switch out my books.

"Does it bother you that the only reason you're at this school is because of charity?"

I stop putting up my books and do my best to remain calm.

"It was really grind your gears knowing that you're only set for life because your poor daddy got ki-" That's all he can get out of his mouth, as I grab his hair and slam his head into the locker.

He yelps like a girl as I slam into the locker again, this time drawing blood.

The whole schools seems to be watching as I throw my books into the locker and close it up.

**** this ****.

I bolt for the nearest door and jog over to the faculty parking lot.

There's a Lexus parked in the parking spot designated for my pre-algebra teacher.

I whip a pocket knife out and break open the door. It takes me about two minutes to hot-wire the Lexus.

I squeel out the parking lot doing 80 with the windows rolled down and the radio playing.​

 

[Saved]

I go limp, helpless. I can't fight back - too weak, the pain resonating from every joint and muscle in my body. The two large guards carry me to the center of the warehouse, sitting me down roughly in a chair. As I look around the room I feel the uncomfortable sensation of dried tears on the skin of my cheek. My eyelid itch, red and puffy from my tears. I want to scratch them, but I can't - my arms tied tight behind me.

The guards step back and head for the back of the room, moving slowly and powerfully as they go. As they walk away from me, one man walks in close - carrying a video camera mounted on a tripod. He stands it up right a few feet away from me and removes the cap, turning the camera on and aiming the lens right for me. The main man, the one with the accent, walks up to me slowly, taking his time as he grins widely.

"Alright, Babsy," he says, his long blond hair tied in a pony tail running down his back. "I don't know how much of an actor you are, but - put on a good show, alright love?" He laughs. What I'd give to punch his teeth out right now.

He steps in close, moving in behind me as the camera's lens widens. The man rests his hands on my shoulders and tightly grips them. He stares at the camera, watching the man behind it carefully. "We're on, boss." He says giving him a thumbs up.

"Aye, hello there, James." He begins, putting on a show. "In case you didn't notice, this 'eers your daughter. This video's brought to you compliments of the Black Mask. You remember, the man who gave you multiple chances to back off." He grunts angrily. "Well, he warned you - this is all on you." As I sit in my seat I begin to stew. I'm not going out like a helpless child. If I can't fight back, I can at least irritate the hell out of him.

"DAD, don't listen!" I shout to the tape, holding back a grin. "They're bluffing! It's a bluff, dad, don't buy it!"

"CUT!" The man behind the camera shouts. "You wanna cut that boss?" The man grunts, miffed at my screams.
"We'll have to," he frowns, stepping around the chair, coming face to face with me. "Listen, little girl,' he starts, his eyes piercing into mine. "We will kill you, you can't change that. But how painful a death you suffer...that depends on your level of cooperation. Got it?" I nod, lying to him through my gesture. "Alright, try again." He shouts, clearing his throat. The cameraman gives the thumbs up again and it begins once more.

"Ello, James! This is Tommy Mandrake talkin' to you on behalf of the Black Mask. You rememba, the man who-"
"Shut up, you dirty son of a *****!" I shout, cutting him off midsentence. He growls at me, and I just smile. "You like pickin' on little girls, right? Cause you're so damn tough!?" I yell, letting out my emotions in some way before I die. "Come on, kill me, you piece of ****!"
"Cut!" The man yells again. "She's messed it up again. Wanna restart, Mr. Mandrake."

"Fine." He growls, unpleased with the current scenario. These guys are clearly new to this gig. Who reshoots a ransom tape? Mandrake, the ugly cowardous freak, gets in close again, bringing his face an inch away from mine. He snorts hot air into my eyes, grunting in anger as sweat drips from his forehead. He's mad. Really mad. "Listen up, you pretentious child! I don't think you understand how painful death can be. Either you work with us, or I'll make sure you wished we simply put a piece of hot lead in your ****in' head. GOT IT?" He raises his hand and slaps the back of it across my face, causing my neck to crack loudly. I stifle a cry, trying to be strong - find a backbone. I move my head back to center and lock eyes with him. As he stares at my face with a scowl, I simply smile.

"Yeah, I got it." I say proudly. "But you need to know one thing, Mandrake."
"Oh, and what's that?" I wiggle in my seat, finding my room to move around very unlimited. Idiots didn't even tie me to the chair. I slam my feet to the floor and force myself forward, knocking my forehead into Mandrake's mouth. I feel his teeth shatter against my skin and he shouts out in pain as he falls flat on his ass.
"Rule one of kidnapping - always make sure your victim's secured tightly!" I shout, spitting a wad of bloody saliva onto his face.

"You..." he snarls, pushing himself up from the floor. "YOU..." he continues, reaching into his pocket and pulling a large, jagged dagger from the sleeve. "You little ****!" He shouts, grabbing me with one arm and tightly holding me around the shoulders. He brings the blade to my neck and begins to cut into my skin. As I feel the warm blood rush down my skin, the fear sets in again - what did I do? "You damned little *****!" He shouts, pressing harder now with the blade. "**** the tapes! **** the plan! I've had it with this little ****! I'll slit her throat right now! You hear me? I'll finish this once and for ****ing all!"

Oh my God, I cry in my mind. I fight back the tears in my eyes with all my might. Be strong, Barbara. Be strong. "Somebody!" I scream, a last ditch effort to save my hide. I scream out to no one, hoping that guardian angel mom always spoke of really does exist. "HELP ME!" I shout again, my voice a blood curdling shriek. Please...anyone...

"Shut up, deary!" He grins, his smile filled with blood and broken teeth. He slides the blade backward and I feel the muscles in his arm tense. This is it. "Have fun in hell, ya little ****. Tell that ****ish mother of yours I say 'hello'!"

 

[Belvedere]

Fantastic Four
Part V

It’s the middle of the night and in the quaint apartment of one Ted Grant sneaks Wesley Dodds. As he had done Alan Scott two days earlier the spectre intended to venture into the mind of his old friend to find out his deepest fears. The Grant apartment was almost the exact opposite of the Scott household; the walls were awash with the numerous belts that Ted had won during his career and pictures of him during several iconic fights, outside of that it was very poorly furnished. On the fireplace Dodds noticed the exact same picture he had seen in Alan’s bedroom, a picture that he himself also owned, underneath his haunting golden mask he smiled slightly.

The elderly Grant lay in his single bed at an awkward angle. The covers had been thrown onto the floor during the middle of the night and his loud snoring made Dodds shake his head sentimentally, Grant hadn’t changed at all; he was still the uncouth thug he’d always been. As the ghoul like Wesley reached the retired pugilist’s bedside he placed one of his gloved hands over Grant’s face gently, from somewhere deep inside an energy ran over Ted’s body and flickers of his dreams were transported into Dodds’ mind.

“Poor Teddy… You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?” Wesley’s rasp voice spat. Images of Rose Scott danced around his mind, memories of the few months that Grant and she had spent together; Grant would never act upon these feelings out of respect for Alan, but all the alcohol in the world couldn’t extinguish them.

From underneath his gas mask Wesley’s breathing became louder and more erratic. He had waited for this moment for years, he was going to tear Ted Grant’s heart out and watch the life slip away from his eyes. For now however he would enjoy delving into his old friend’s subconscious; after he had avenged Cyrus Gold’s death he would claim the lives of those that Ted Grant and Alan Scott loved the most.

“I don’t know what’s more pathetic: your blind loyalty to Scott or the fact that after all these years you still cling to the hopes that Rose will fall back into love with you?”

Dodds had known from the very beginning that the bond Scott and Grant had would outlast the group, but the moment that Alan Scott had suggested they cover up the murder of one of their best friend’s just to save Ted’s boxing career had pushed him over the edge. He couldn’t look his friends and family in the eye knowing that he’d been an accessory to murder, so with his father’s consent escaped to China and spent the past few decades under the influence of opium and other hard drugs. Upon returning to America and learning his old friend Alan had become one of the richest men in the country, but more so than that a beloved public figure, Dodds began experimenting with pheromone technology that blessed him with the powers he now possessed.

They served just as much as a curse as they did a blessing: quickly Dodds found that if he didn’t get a hit of the pheromones that supplied him with his powers he began to relapse, his body began to break down into clouds of smoke and he was unable to reform.

“Don’t worry old friend, your pathetic existence will come to an end” he began.

[FONT=&quot]“I don’t think so!” [/FONT]Alan roared as he appeared from behind a curtain and placed Dodds in a full nelson.

Suddenly the “sleeping” Ted jumped into action and grabbed Wesley by his trench coat and spat out viciously.

“You always were a ****ing creep Dodds.”

Ted threw one the juggernauts connected to his wrists at Dodds with all his might, but the spectral figure dissipated into smoke and the fist connected with the stomach of Alan Scott, who then fell to his knees winded.

“UH…!”

Grant helped his friend to his feet and stood in front of him as he scanned the room for Dodds, soon his apartment was filled with smoke and Dodds’ sickening laughter was the only sound the could be heard. Alan glanced down at the ring on his finger and wondered whether now was one of those situations worth exposing his abilities to Grant for, before deciding otherwise. He knew that whatever happened Grant would have his back, but he knew Teddy would be hurt that he hadn’t told him already.

[FONT=&quot]“What the hell?” [/FONT]muttered Grant as he tried to fan the smoke away.

From deep within the smoke came more laughter from Dodds and his raspy voice began speaking once again, this time in a spine tingling tone.

“Neither of you understand what you’re up against… It’s only going to get worse.”

The smoke seeped away through the air conditioning unit in Grant’s apartment and Scott shook his head disapprovingly; he couldn’t help but feel like he’d missed his chance to get the drop on Dodds, not to mention he was getting fed up of his misty adversary’s disappearing act.

“This **** keeps getting weirder and weirder…” Grant said as he ruffled his greying hair and sat down on his bed.

“Tell me about it…”

 

[MST3K 4ever]

I follow the two off to Langstrom's office, watching the direction that Morton had walked off to. I pick up my pace quickly, walking next to Palmer.

"Congratulations on your detective skills," I mutter to her, my eyes on her face, watching for a reaction.

She's obviously hiding something, but it'll take some hard work to get it out of her. Finally we arrive in the office of Langstrom, to see a dump. I take a look around, before walking over to the window and look out. Flash photography. With a grimace I pull down the blind on the window and turn away.

"It's been searched pretty heavily. Obviously he had something important."

I stroll over to his desk, with papers scattered all over it, to the side, a cabinet broken open. Below the desk was the computer, smashed open with broken wires hanging out. Morton was a likely suspect, but how did he kill the three of them? Fire would have spread and would have needed gasoline. No sign of gasoline and barely any burn marks on the floor. Electrocution? There would've been more signs. Still. A suspect is a suspect. I call over an officer who's lurking outside the door.

"Take Mr Morton into custody. I want somebody to get some answers out of him and I want the tape on my desk in the morning. Got it?"

"Yes Sir," he replies and heads out, pulling out his handcuffs.

"I'd advise that you get some rest, Dr Palmer. You won't get anything from a dead computer and technically, you two shouldn't even be here investigating, witness or not," I tell her, leading her back towards the door with her friend.

"We've got all we need for now. We'll get this sorted as soon as possible, Dr Palmer."

I smile slightly, reassuringly, and head off towards DeCarlo, who's leaning against some machinery.

"I'm out of here, DeCarlo. Make sure Dr Palmer heads home."

"How come you get to leave already and I don't?"

"I actually do some proper work. Night."

I turn quickly before he can reply and I'm of the large room, heading back to the car. I ignore the constant flash photography and jump straight in the car as a mob of reporters head in my direction. They bang on the door, trying to get my attention as they hold microphones to the window, some with pad and pencil ready. I turn on the engine and head off down the road, moving as fast as the car possibly can. I turn off into an alley and go right down to the end, before parking. I move into the back of he car and pull out a blanket and a mini alarm clock. It'll take a while before the Detectives and press mostly leave. Two hours. That should get me to roughly 6:00am. Police would be tired to care about a vigilante. Got to be careful though, people could start coming in any second. Will have to be quick. I set the alarm to go off in two hours and settle down under the rug, falling to sleep slowly.

****

Beep Beep. I stir from my sleep quickly. No time to waste. I turn off the alarm and lift up one of the backseats. Below it, a suit, a trench coat, a fedora hat and a flexible piece of prosthetic. I quickly put on the seat and trench coat before pulling out the prosthetic. I place it on my face and pull out a tiny spray from my pocket, spraying it all over my face. Soon, the prosthetic begins to attach itself to my skin, and I feel it tighten. I put the spray away and place on my hat. I get out of the car and climb up a fire escape ladder, moving quickly. Soon I reach the room of the building and I have a good view. Wayne Enterprises building isn't too far away. I leap down onto the other side of the building and land in a dumpster, before rolling out quickly. I move through the shadows of the alleys swiftly, not stopping for anything. Soon I'm in an alley behind the Wayne Enterprises building. I head to the fire escape and feel around the door. Alarmed. I look up above it to see a tiny vent. I lift up a dustbin and place it by the door and leap onto it. I reach up and take off the hatch and climb up, into the vent.

I slide quickly through the vent, listening carefully to anything below me. Police muttering between themselves about the bodies. Employees from other departments who've arrived early, talking between themselves. The Medical Department should be taped off, so they won't be bothering me. Just got to look out for Police. Finally, I look down to see some familiar equipment. I carefully remove the hatch and slide down the gap, landing onto a large piece of equipment. A clang rings out as I land, so I have to move quickly. I dive off the equipment and roll into the shadows as an officer arrives and looks up. He mutters to himself and carries on patrolling. I breathe a quiet sigh and get onto my feet. Time to get to work.
​

Rhiannon begins walking with DeCarlo.

She says, "Let me ask you something Detective DeCarlo. Sage, is he good?"

DeCarlo replies, "He's not your average detective there is something different about him and he's as cuddly as a brillo pad. No one has ever been able to put their finger on what makes him different, but I'll say these facts about him. One, if he brings someone in 10 times out of 10 it'll stand up in court, and two if I had a loved one who was murdered I'd want him on the case."

Rhiannon says, "Well it sounds like this case is in good hands."

DeCarlo says, "Randy Moss on his best day could only dream of hands as good as Sage's he'll catch the killer, and it'll be a slam dunk."

Rhiannon reaches her car and she drives home with DeCarlo following close behind.

She gets to her apartment and waves to DeCarlo as she enters. DeCarlo drives off and Rhiannon closes the door.

Rhiannon quickly downs a bottle of water some salad and tries to get some alpha-sleep. After a few moments she is refreshed and awake

Well time to get back to work...

She dials a number at Wayne Enterprises for the Media Relations department.

A voice answers, "Hello Wayne Enter..."

Just then she shrinks down to become The Atom she rides the phone signal right into Wayne Enterprises.

The Atom then rides on the air currents right into the lab.

Now let's see what the CSI crew overlooked....

 

[Eddie Brock]

SELINA KYLE

The Iceberg Lounge. This is where a lot of Gotham's underground operations are run. Flashing strobe lights make it hard to see. Pounding music makes it hard to hear. It's every criminal's dream. It's also Maroni's idea of a "night out." Of course, I suspect that tonight is less about pleasing me and more about getting information on whatever was stolen. Still, I don't like it. The Lounge is filled with horny bastards trying to get laid and women stupid enough to help them. It makes me sick.

"Hey, Sal, you wanna dance?" I ask while chewing bubblegum. He makes a face and waves his hand at me dismissively. I pout and begin twirling a lock of my hair. "Fine. See if you get anything later tonight," I mutter loud enough for him to hear. He merely rolls his eyes.

A shady character approaches from the crowd. I can tell right away that he's a crackhead. Sunken eyes, disshelved hair, clothes that appear worn. It all adds up. His fingers are twitching nervously as he tries to stand up straight in front of Maroni. After a moment, he leans in and whispers something in Maroni's ear.

"You come all this f***in' way to tell me that you don't have anything?" Maroni asks incredulously. He has a tight grip on the crackhead's shirt. "Get out of here." He pushes the guy away. When the guy hesitates for a moment, Maroni barks, "Get the f*** outta here!" At this, he scurries like a rat.

I turn my head and stare at Maroni. "What the f*** was that? He whisperin' sweet nothings in your ear, Sal?"

"F*** off," Maroni groans. He leans over and mutters something to Umberto before backhanding him in the gut. Umberto jumps to his feet and starts pushing through the crowd. Maroni scowls.
​

 

[Batman]

Damn it --!

His plan to stay hidden didn't count on the interference from Gordon's daughter. Determined to keep herself alive for as long as she could, she was going to try and fight it - worse, she was trying to fight it in the middle of a room full of armed hitmen, enforcers, and drug runners with a knife already cutting right into her throat. His blood already burning through his veins from witnessing her mistreatment, seeing the blood stained blade about to go straight for the kill only fueled his adrenaline and his rage. He wasn't going to waste another second and risk the girl's life in the process - now was the time to act.

KRASSSH!

"HOLY-"

"Jesus! What the hell is that?!"

Without so much as thinking about how he'd get the girl to safety, Batman's sudden entrance provoked enough of a distraction to give him the hands-on strategy he'd need. With all eyes on him, he quickly moved for Mandrake and flipped, smashing his boot down upon the wrist that wielded the knife. A violent crack and snap caused Mandrake to scream out in pain, dropping the weapon and falling to his knees in trauma. Landing infront of the bound Barbara Gordon, Batman turned to see the gunmen that were all-too-quickly bearing down upon him, ready to start pulling triggers. He turned back to the terrified girl, eyes wide with shock upon his startling form. From now until this was over, her life was his sole responsibility. Got to get her away from the gunfire.

*BRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKA*

Grabbing her while she was still petrified and scooping her into his arms, The Dark Knight immediately clutched tightly so as to shield her from the blasts, as the weapons went off towards his direction. Bullets ricocheted around them and caught into his armor, as he sprinted towards a heavy set of shipping crates. The girl screamed and closed her eyes, as Batman leaped, and jumped the crates one-by-one, narrowly avoiding bullets with each vaulting step. Finally reaching a vacant gap between four of the wooden crates, Batman threw Barbara over his shoulder and dove in, tumbling headfirst to make sure he wouldn't cause her injury as they landed. Putting her down as hastily as he could, he didn't make the time to examine her as more bullets grazed the edges of the crates, each easily capable of blowing his head off if he hadn't been protected.

"Stay low and keep your head down,", He commanded, emphasizing urgency so that she'd listen to him. "I'll come back when it's safe."

Without awaiting for her reply or compliance, Batman pushed himself over the crates and jumped out, spreading his cape in a bodyslam-like maneuver that kept him falling fast, so he wouldn't be killed by the blasts. Keeping his knee towards the ground, he pushed and rolled across it, continuing to dodge as much as he could and keeping what hit him in the more heavily armored portions of his suit. The gunmen were wielding all sorts of heavily artillery, ranging from Uzis to automatic rifles and magnum pistols. Whoever hired them wanted to make sure that they succeeded at their jobs... and paid no expense to give them the tools necessary to do so. Black Mask,, He remembered Mandrake referencing, just before he attacked the girl. They called him Black Mask...

Grabbing a crate full of imported heroin, Batman spun and forcefully tossed it into the air, blocking off the gunfire that was still coming his way. The crate exploded instantly, hitting the thugs with plastic bags full of contraband and splintering wood. Taking full advantage of the momentary shock that graced the criminals, The Dark Knight dementedly grinned, lunging for them at full force. They had been fully prepared to attack and kill a seventeen year old girl just to send a message to the Commissioner. They had might aswell attempted to take the life of a child. For that, he'd break each and every one of their jaws. If not their spines, in the process.

"Come on,", He hissed like an animal, daring them to attack. "Show me what you've got!"

The thugs looked at eachother, wide-eyed, unsure of how to react. They were startled enough by the way he had crashed through the skylight - but the way he moved, the way he spoke... even the way he stared at them through those glowing eyes. It was nothing short of inhuman. They had already heard of The Batman, and they all thought he was just some clown in a pair of tights out to try and put up a pathetic fight against the mob. But this man - this monster, was nothing like they imagined. If he really was human, then he was clearly out of his mind. And even facing that possibility that did little to comfort them.

Nevertheless, they had their orders, and they knew what'd happen if they went against them. So they attacked. Running after him as he effortlessly sprinted their way, some wildly shot into the air to try and scare him, others tossed away their weapons just to prove that they didn't need them to waste this freak. But the closer they got to him, the more menacing he looked, making it harder for each criminal to approach. Finally, Batman himself broke the standoff, diving into the group of thugs head-on and going right to work on them. Slamming two of them at once with a brutal elbow, Batman spun and grabbed another one by the shoulder, twisting it and slamming his knee into the spine. As his knee connected, it writhed back, brutally kicking another in the midsection and knocking him into another.

Other thugs actually stopped and stared as the vigilante furiously sparred with every punch coming at him, instinctively edging himself and pushing his body's limits to go into devastating combinations and counters. Bones cracked, blood was flying, and unconscious bodies were piling all over the floor, as Batman tirelessly continued on, slamming his fists, head, and boots wherever they needed to be. Barbara Gordon couldn't help but slowly look up out of intrigue for the noises she head, watching her savior make quick work of the oncoming druglords. She was shocked, scared... but oddly exhilarated by what she was seeing. It was like watching a high-adrenaline movie come to life. And this was coming from the daughter of the Police Commissioner, who had seen plenty of real life shootouts and takedowns to know what she was talking about. Batman was like nothing she had ever seen before in her life.

Snapping a thug's arm into three joints rather than two, The Dark Knight pulled him up and tossed him into an idle steel girder before he could even manage to scream. But despite his focus on keeping himself ahead, he would manage slight glances towards where he had taken and hid the girl. She was watching him like a hawk, keeping track of his every move. As much as the new costume seemed to be doing it's part to scare the hell out of criminals, it seemed to be having the same effect on the innocent aswell. For the first time in his crusade, Batman actually felt as if he had finally mastered the manipulation of fear and intimidation. And the feeling brought him one step closer to realizing his goal - soon, if he kept at it, all of Gotham's denizens would be clamoring out of the city. Never had victory over evil felt more within his grasp.

Then came a narrow gunshot, blasting off a portion of his bicep's protective armor. The sensation of pain caused Batman momentary pause, as he grunted, grasping at the wound just as blood began to trickle out of his arm. It instantly humbled his delusions of victory, and brought him back to reality, causing him to turn with caution. Standing on the other side of the warehouse was Mandrake, his wrist still visibly broken as he weakly held the smoking gun in his other hand.

"F-Freak, sta... stay back...", He muttered, trying his best not to pass out from the shock of his injury. "I'm warnin' ya... I work for powerful people. You got no idea what you're messin' with!"

Batman sneered, still trying to plug his bleeding wound. "Yes, I do."

Before Mandrake could fire another bullet, Batman slammed his foot down, causing a wooden splint from one of the damaged crates to fly up into the air. Grabbing it, and breaking it in two so that it'd have a jagged edge, Batman lunged after Mandrake just as he fired the gun, the bullet ripping through one of the seams in his cape and hitting an overhead lightbulb. Grabbing Mandrake by the collar of his jacket, Batman slammed the sharp wooden splint into his trigger hand... and pushed it all the way through, causing a painful stab wound that made the thug scream even louder in agony than before.

"JESUS!", He exclaimed, dropping his gun and clutching his new wound with his broken hand. "Jesus ****in' Christ, it hurts!"

"Good,", Batman growled, lifting him off of his feet and slamming him hard into a metal shaft. "Because I know exactly what I'm dealing with, Mandrake! A petty coward who hurts helpless girls!"

Mandrake's fear overcame him, as he began to whimper while watching as Batman grabbed his tie and yanked it high, nearly choking him by the force. Now came the moment of truth - now he learned why Gordon and his daughter were targeted by Mandrake's boss.

"Tell me about Black Mask,", Batman instantaneously demanded. "Now!"

"D... Don't...", Mandrake pleaded, before foolishly changing his mind. "Don't know what you're talkin' about! There ain't no Black Mask! Where'd you hear that name?!"

"From your lying lips, you lowlife piece of scum!", The vigilante barked back. "Why does he want Gordon?! What does he know about the family?!"

"I... I..."

Batman growled even louder. "ANSWER ME!"

"E... everything!", the thug blurted out. "He's... he's had us steal files from old man Gordon's police records! That's how he knew where the kid went to school!"

"Why?!"

"Retaliation!", Mandrake screamed. "Gordon didn't know when to back down! Years ago, he brought down some of our boys, and Black Mask... he... he's held a grudge ever since! Even when we killed his lady, he didn't let up, so we grabbed her..."

Tears streamed down Mandrake's face, as his lip quivered. "Oh, dear god, please... please don't kill me..."

Batman was silent, upon hearing why the Gordon family was targeted. It explained so much, yet solved so little. Gordon's inactivity towards rooting out the corrupt officers of his branch, his low tolerance of vigilantism, his quick and irrational judgment... it was actually all just a response to tragedy and bloodshed in his life. To say that he couldn't relate to such a feeling would be an insult to the people he's lost, aswell.

"If you ever get the chance, tell him,", Batman stated, much more calm, but still enraged. "Tell him that if he ever sends anyone after the school, the police department, or their home again... I'll find each and every last one of you. I will hunt you down until your dying days, and make you suffer in every way imaginable. Do you understand me? The Gordon family is off limits."

Mandrake managed a nod.

Throwing the thug down onto the ground, and slamming a boot into the back of his head, Batman watched as the body fell limp and unconscious, just like his fallen partners-in-crime. Turning the abrasive hitman into nothing more than a whimpering coward before his very eyes would send a clear message to his employer. Whoever Black Mask was, wherever he was hiding... he had just bought himself a war. And if things went according to plan, he was about to be on the losing side of the battle.

Turning around and walking back over to Barbara, Batman carefully approached her so as to not startle the already rattled young woman. Looking down at her with a combination of remorse for having to witness what he did to those men, and pity for how they stole her mother away, The Dark Knight's emotions were nevertheless masked by his fearsome cowl as he spoke.

"You were supposed to keep your head down."

"I-...", She stuttered, unsure of what to say. "I was careful."

"Yes,", He agreed, trying to hide his slight surprise of the fact. "You were."

Looking around at the unconcious thugs, Batman turned around, realizing he should probably leave as soon as possible. At least before the police arrived, no doubt hearing the gunfire from the fight. "Do you have a cellphone?"

"I lost it,", Barbara quickly admitted, still visibly in shock. "Back there. When they grabbed me, I dropped it."

Silently, Batman walked over to Mandrake's unconscious form. Inspecting the pockets of the criminal's wardrobe, The Oracle automatically went to work, immediately identifying the contents of them and their exact height, weight, and demensions. Foreign Objects Identified As - Common House Keys. Matchbook. Leather Wallet. Standard Grade Swiss Army Knife. Wireless Cellular Phone.

Reaching into the indicated pocket and ripping out the phone, Batman inspected the 'Contacts' list and checked for any signs or traces of Black Mask and his gang. There was nothing. Turning back, he tossed the phone to Barbara, before leaping onto a crate just below the window. "Call your father. Have him bring you home."

After Barbara looked down at the phone, she looked back up and realized something startling - The Batman was gone. Disappeared, without a single trace to his existence or involvement in the struggle.

 

[Saved]

Moments before I was seconds away from death. A straight, smooth blade was thrust against my neck - slicing my skin as it was pressed harder into my throat. Then, before I could even blink, I was thrown behind crates and saved by a mysterious character. It was the Batman. I couldn't believe it, the real Batman. I mean, I've heard stories about him but...I never believed he actually existed.

It was thrilling to watch him move. He appeared to fly across the room, jumping from man to man and incapacitating them with what seemed like a touch. One by one they all dropped before him, as if a mystical spell was cast over them. What's even stranger was his endurance. Four gunshots hit him. Four. I watched the bullets fly into his body, direct hits from my angle. He wasn't phased - he didn't stop! As I watched all I could think was, "Is this man a mirage? Am I dreaming?"

Just as soon as he came, so did he go. He handed me Mandrake's phone and told me to call my father. "Did he know who I was?" I say, almost unable to breath. He was right in front of me, inches from my body. Hell, I touched his hand briefly when he gave me the phone. All I did was blink, take my eyes off him for a second, and he was gone. No trace - no evidence he was even here.

Moments ago I thought I was dead, making my last stand against a dirty criminal as he prepared to end my life. I prayed for a guardian angel - a spirit to save my life and give me mercy. Did I get what I prayed for? No. Not exactly. The Batman is no sentinel of God - no gift from the heavens. He's a guardian demon, a dark angel. Ally to good and nightmare to evil. He's a watchful protecter, stalking the shadows - watching and waiting in silence. Is he a man? Is he truly human? Perhaps he is...or maybe. ... maybe he's something more.

I look around at the bodies scattered in the room. They all lie in pools of their own blood and drool, unconscious or paralyzed in pain. I laugh to myself, basking in their agony, taking pleasure in their misfortune. I hope they're broken...Truly and utterly dismantled.

I look at the phone in my hands and inhale deeply, catching my breath. "Alright. Let's do this." I dial the number quickly, my mind racing about what I'm going to say. So much has just happened...how will I be able to explain it all? The phone rings on the other end for a moment - come on, dad, pick up. Suddenly, the line opens and I here a familiar voice ask 'hello'.

"Dad?" I begin, biting my lip in nervous anxiety. "Dad...something's happened."

 

[Belvedere]

The Fantastic Four
Part VI

“As you can see over the past three quarters our profits have gone down by 2% which is to be expected since we’re in a recession, however our projections for the next quarter show some healthy positive growth and-”

Somewhere during the meeting Alan Scott stopped listening, he glanced over at the empty seat at the meeting table that John Peterson once inhabited and smiled slightly. Something far more important than net and gross profits was weighing him down. Somewhere out there Wesley Dodds was plotting against him and the people he loved. Ever since he was a teenager he’d had a problem with intimidation; namely that he wouldn’t allow himself to be intimidated, he wouldn’t allow someone to use fear to dictate his life to him. “A life lived in fear isn’t a life lived at all” he told himself every time he felt too afraid to act, he wouldn’t allow Dodds to have his loved ones feel like they needed to look over their shoulders everywhere they went.

There was of course one large problem. Wesley Dodds was willing to break the rules, willing to kill innocent people to make Alan and Ted hurt, something that Alan was not. It’s hard to find someone that’s been on another continent for over 30 years even if you were a billionaire, especially if said person travelled via cloud. Like a lightning bolt it struck Alan during the meeting, he almost felt like standing up and shrieking “Eureka!” Several of Dodds relatives still resided in the Gotham area; if they were going to smoke him out maybe paying a visit to a few of them would help.

“- as you can see on your charts Scott Enterprise is currently the largest single transportation company in America, however our attempts at expanding into the arms market has been less than success. If you would turn the page you will see – Mr Scott?”

The elderly man wearing rather thick rimmed glasses tried to catch Alan’s attention by waving his arms. The owner of Scott Enterprise dismissively waved at the man, mainly to stop him from waving his arms around like a madman, before turning the page of the booklet they’d been handed at the start of the meeting. Once again the man continued with his talk and Alan leaned back in his chair and whispered into Ted’s ear, making sure not to interrupt the meeting again.

“Dodds still has family in Gotham right?”he said. At once Grant understood what his best friend was getting at, he nodded slightly and stood up from his chair to leave the room. Once again the man in the thick rimmed glasses looked up from the booklet mid-speech as if to ask where Ted was going, but quickly returned his eyes towards the booklet; the board members had learned many times before that Ted Grant was not a man to be messed with, especially when he was on a mission.

A few hours passed and the meeting got progressively boring as the time went by, Alan couldn’t help but feel trapped; he hoped he hadn’t just sent his best friend walking straight into an ambush of some sort, that Dodds would be waiting there for him and the worst would happen. As the meeting wrapped up Alan shook a few hands and exchanged pleasantries with some of the board members before making his way outside. On his way to the limousine he felt his cell phone vibrating, he lifted it and pressed it against his ear.

“I’m just calling to say I love you… you’re the best thing that’s every happened to me Alan Scott, don’t you ever forget that.” Said the voice of his wife, Alan smiled broadly. That woman was the shining light of his life, were it not for here he wasn’t sure what sort of man would be standing in his place today. He stopped for a few moments and remembered their wedding day and how beautiful she had looked it that dress. How beautiful she still was.

With a sigh he dialled the next number on the list – “Teddy”. It took a few attempts, because despite his relative good shape for his age Grant hadn’t really mastered cell phones just yet. If he was being honest Alan would admit that he feared the worst when Ted hadn’t picked up, he felt his heart skip for a moment but his better nature told him to redial.

[FONT=&quot]"Hello? Hello? Stupid ****ing phones, is that you Al?”[/FONT]shouted Ted down the phone.​

“You don’t have to shout, I can hear you”Alan said reassuringly down the phone. [FONT=&quot]“How’d it go?”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“You’re never going to ****ing believe this. I spoke to Dodds’ niece and apparently he sends her a few thousand bucks every month, return address is a warehouse on the pier. Are we going to get this ****er or what?”[/FONT]

Alan could feel his heart begin to pump faster and the palms of his hands were warm, through his mind ran the hundreds of different ways he could kill him. The moment he broke into his home Dodds had sealed his fate, had he come at Grant and Scott like a man he could have let it go; but to break into his home, into his bedroom? Break into the bedroom in which Scott’s wife sleeps in? That crossed the line. When Scott found him he was in for a world of hurt, he was going to enjoy it more than he had done offing Peterson that was for sure.

[FONT=&quot]“I’m on my way…”[/FONT]

As he unlocked his car Alan looked around to make sure that no-one was around, that nobody would hear the words that he was about to utter. Once he was satisfied he was alone he said into the cell phone with an impassive expression.

[FONT=&quot]“Oh and Teddy? Bring a gun.”[/FONT]​

 

[Catman_prb]

Jim climbed out of his car, followed shortly by Harvey Bullock, who's face had gone a bright red. Jim's own face was pale, although his colleagues were cowed by the sheer rage in his eyes. A couple more cars pulled up outside the warehouse, and half the MCU joined the Commissioner as he opened the door and walked inside.

"Jesus Christ," Bullock spat as he saw the bodies littered around the room "Does that guy have a a plank of wood through his hand?"

Jim silently walked over to his daughter, who was standing awkwardly amongst the littered carnage and pulled her into a tight hug.

"It's okay," he said quietly "I'm here,"

He held her for a while before standing up and surveying the room.

"The Bat-Man, huh? I guess I should be thankful he didn't use you as a human body shield," Jim muttered.

Driver walked in, cellphone to his ear.

"He's there now boss," he said significantly. Gordon nodded.

"Bullock, Montoya, take Babs home and then stay with her. No one goes in or out of that house except for me or Sarah, got it?" he asked. Harvey nodded silently, and Montoya looked pissed off but muttered her agreement.

"Driver, you're with me. We're gonna find this Tally bastard and send Black Mask a message,"

He paused and looked at his daughter.

"I'm so sorry honey," he whispered "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

 

[Saved]

Jim climbed out of his car, followed shortly by Harvey Bullock, who's face had gone a bright red. Jim's own face was pale, although his colleagues were cowed by the sheer rage in his eyes. A couple more cars pulled up outside the warehouse, and half the MCU joined the Commissioner as he opened the door and walked inside.

"Jesus Christ," Bullock spat as he saw the bodies littered around the room "Does that guy have a a plank of wood through his hand?"

Jim silently walked over to his daughter, who was standing awkwardly amongst the littered carnage and pulled her into a tight hug.

"It's okay," he said quietly "I'm here,"

He held her for a while before standing up and surveying the room.

"The Bat-Man, huh? I guess I should be thankful he didn't use you as a human body shield," Jim muttered.

Driver walked in, cellphone to his ear.

"He's there now boss," he said significantly. Gordon nodded.

"Bullock, Montoya, take Babs home and then stay with her. No one goes in or out of that house except for me or Sarah, got it?" he asked. Harvey nodded silently, and Montoya looked pissed off but muttered her agreement.

"Driver, you're with me. We're gonna find this Tally bastard and send Black Mask a message,"

He paused and looked at his daughter.

"I'm so sorry honey," he whispered "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

I frown, my father's arrival bitter-sweet. It's great to see his face, the facade that made me remember the old times of comfort and saftey. Back when we were truly a family. But, as good as it is to see him, I find that he is still his current self - spiteful, and stubborn. Angry at the world and anyone in it he doesn't understand. "Dad, Batman saved me." I say to him, my tone dissapointed. "If he didn't show up, this" I explain, pointing to the small incision on the skin of my neck. "Would be all across my neck and I'd be lying on the ground in a puddle of blood - dead."

 

[Catman_prb]

I frown, my father's arrival bitter-sweet. It's great to see his face, the facade that made me remember the old times of comfort and saftey. Back when we were truly a family. But, as good as it is to see him, I find that he is still his current self - spiteful, and stubborn. Angry at the world and anyone in it he doesn't understand. "Dad, Batman saved me." I say to him, my tone dissapointed. "If he didn't show up, this" I explain, pointing to the small incision on the skin of my neck. "Would be all across my neck and I'd be lying on the ground in a puddle of blood - dead."

"I'm sure love," he said, smiling at her genially "Harvey and Renee are going to take you home now okay?"

He turned around and looked at his subordinates.

"Montaya, make sure you get a dressing on that. I don't want her at the hospital," he whispered urgently.

"Driver, let's go,"

 

[Red_Robin77]

Rhiannon begins walking with DeCarlo.

She says, "Let me ask you something Detective DeCarlo. Sage, is he good?"

DeCarlo replies, "He's not your average detective there is something different about him and he's as cuddly as a brillo pad. No one has ever been able to put their finger on what makes him different, but I'll say these facts about him. One, if he brings someone in 10 times out of 10 it'll stand up in court, and two if I had a loved one who was murdered I'd want him on the case."

Rhiannon says, "Well it sounds like this case is in good hands."

DeCarlo says, "Randy Moss on his best day could only dream of hands as good as Sage's he'll catch the killer, and it'll be a slam dunk."

Rhiannon reaches her car and she drives home with DeCarlo following close behind.

She gets to her apartment and waves to DeCarlo as she enters. DeCarlo drives off and Rhiannon closes the door.

Rhiannon quickly downs a bottle of water some salad and tries to get some alpha-sleep. After a few moments she is refreshed and awake

Well time to get back to work...

She dials a number at Wayne Enterprises for the Media Relations department.

A voice answers, "Hello Wayne Enter..."

Just then she shrinks down to become The Atom she rides the phone signal right into Wayne Enterprises.

The Atom then rides on the air currents right into the lab.

Now let's see what the CSI crew overlooked....

I stand close to the patch of ground where the bodies were, examining anything and everything. The Report from the Doctor who came should have arrived by now, which could help me a lot. I don't have time to get back to the Station, and I need to get a head start on this, so I can do anything I need to at work for the next night. I left behind the chalked body outlines and snuck into the shadows. I slide along the wall, keeping my eye out for any police. I notice a Detective leaning against a wall, flicking through a file. This could be it. I recognised the face of the Detective, just another corrupt face at the office. I pull a pen from my inside pocket and throw it on the floor in front of me. The Detective looks up, slightly suprised and cautiously walks over, pulling his gun out of his pocket. As he grew closer I began to circle around until I was behind him. I crept up slowly as he began to stop and tapped him on the shoulder. As he swung around I prepared my hand, jutting the heel of my palm out and as he was fully around, I threw the heel into his nose, sending him reeling back. As he lands his gun falls from his hand. I send two fingers firing towards his throat and jab him in the adam's apple. He groans in pain as I finally kick the side of his face and rest my foot in his head, before doing a final punch to his gut. Unconscious. Always good to be sure. Really need to start bringing tasers again.

I walk over to the file and pick it up, flicking through. Doctor's Report. Electrocution. I drop the file on the Detective's limp body and push it aside, into the shadows. I walk away from the body, and back to the chalked outlines. No sign of any equipment tampered with, which means that the killer must have brought something with them. But to have that much power, and to be so precise, must mean it's something I've never seen before. Maybe I'm wrong, but something doesn't feel like this was just a normal murder with your average killer. This could be a meta.

"This could be interesting...or bad."