The New Ultimate DC RPG

[Byrd Man]

An irate Sarah Essen handed over her mobile to the commissioner, who was sitting up in bed, reading. Gordon rolled his eyes and took the phone.

"What is it Nygma? It's late,"

"I understand, sir. I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't important. What I have to say shouldn't be said over the phones. Can you meet me somewhere as soon as possible? You pick the time and the place and I'll be there."

 

[sabetoonth]

[FONT=&quot]The food storage was cold, it nibbled at Victor’s skin as he sat wait for rescue from these zombies. Then he heard it.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“What’s going on, where the hell am?”[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“OH MY GOD WHERE’S MY ARM!”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“MY LEG!” it seemed like they had returned to being regular humans. Victor pressed against the door too look out. Yea, they where human alright.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]
"Victor Freis?” a police officer stood in door of Victor’s apartment.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“Yes?” [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Victor said in response.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“You are under arrest for assault.” A pair of handcuffs where puts around Victor’s left wrist, before the officer turned him around, finished cuffing him before reading him his rights. “You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law, you have the right to an attorney, if you can not afford one then one will be provided for you. Do you understand what you have been charged with and these rights as they have been read to you?” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
Victor nodded solemnly ”Yes.”[/FONT]

 

[Spike_x1]

"We should be very nearly ready...."

STAR Labs has been delivering sterling results in examining these parasitic creatures, the "Sta'rro" spawns that have been attaching themselves to hosts on a global scale. LexCorp satellites have also been monitoring the superheroes' efforts not only to contain the spread of the infection, but also to engage the colossal progenitor creature in orbit. Their efforts are without success, but not completely in vain.

They have been giving me time to prepare my own solution. LexCorp Towers' defenses include an impressive array of devices that less rational men might refer to as "doomsday weapons." I am in the process of calibrating one such device for use.....when it seems another thing of apocalyptic power wishes to have an audience with me.

"According to our source we are about to have a visitor in a red cape," Miss Zuell informs me, and for a second, my blood runs cold.

Him.

The man whose image and whose actions have captivated the citizens of Metropolis, and indeed, the world over. The creature whose power and durability have yet to be rivaled, who could likely withstand entire armies if it would ever so choose. The thing that, if left unchecked, will bring the world to its destruction.

He is here. And I am not ready for him yet.

"....hold my calls, Miss Zuell. And stand by for defensive actions if necessary."

I step away from my work bench and take the express lift back up to my penthouse, where he is already waiting for me on the balcony.

"Superman, won't you come in?" I call out to him, playing the gracious host as much as my stomach will allow. "I understand the air outside is not entirely safe to breathe."

"Then you're aware that the infection is growing." With my arms crossed over my chest, I need to try to convey the importance and seriousness of the situation, but not intimidate the man. Actually, I'm not certain that I could intimidate Lex even if I wanted to.

Following him in from the balcony, I do my best to hide the distaste from my voice. "A number of superheroes and I have pooled our resources to try to fight this invasion, but all we seem to be doing is stalling it, and we can't keep it up forever." Something in the towers is making a unique low humming noise, which gets my attention since I couldn't hear it from outside. Luthor apparently has some means of dampening the sounds of whatever experiments he and his company get up to in here. Like the act of lining the building with lead in paranoia of my spying on him, he also seems to have taken measures to prevent me from eavesdropping on him from outside the building. This strikes my curiosity for only a brief moment before I remind myself of the matter at hand.

"A woman called the Atom may have found a way to defeat the source of the infection with a high powered sound frequency, but she and STAR Labs need one of your satellites in orbit in order to carry that frequency."

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Lex Luthor



"....hold my calls, Miss Zuell. And stand by for defensive actions if necessary."

Doris leaves Lex's office and enters into Lex's panic room and sits down at the control panel.

She activates the system and says, "Authorization Zuel Beta 127588."

The computer responds, "Indentity confirmed."

Doris types into the computer, "Defensive measures in stand-by mode. Activate on my signal. Silent Confirmation."

The computer responds on the screen, "confirmed."

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Atom slowly begins to stir. As she sits up and sees that she is laying on an instrument tray.

Mac is standing over her and says, "Easy Atom easy."

She says, "I think I'm okay. " She stands up and begins to walk but as she does she nearly falls off the tray. Mac catches her and puts her back on the tray.

Mac says, "Settle down Atom rest for a minute. What's happening to you?"

Atom tells Mac what happened with the voice in her head.

Mac responds, "You went through decontamination but my guess is that you were so close to the brain of this creature that when it's brain melted down it transfered it's consciousness to you. The reason no one else has felt this is because there cells are not compatible. Since you are not a typical human cell it's now trying to bond with you on a neurological level but rather than seeking to just take over your mind it's looking for something more."

Atom asks, "But what Mac?"

Mac replies, "How should I know? This is out of my league I'm just guessing here. My overall guess think 'Star Trek II' when Spock mindmelded with McCoy. Although I suspect that if and this is risky."

Atom replies, "What? Mac my mind is frying here and I need help."

Mac states, "You need to go into space and have direct contact with the main body. Reason with it and you might be able to break free."

Atom sits up and says, "And Superman is negotiating with Luthor. I have to talk to him before he leaves for space again. Otherwise if he destroys the organism before I get a chance to meet with it. I may never get another chance to be, for lack of a better term, normal again."

 

[Saved]

Red Hood ​

Trail of Slaughter - Epilogue

Jason Todd slowly begins to stir as he begins to awaken. His fingers twitch, extending and retracting as his brain rapidly fires signals to his nerve endings. Groggily his eyelids part, opening his view to the world around him. At first, all is hazy – dim, blurry shadows and colors begin to come into focus as his consciousness tries to comprehend of all that has happened.

Where am I, he wonders, his eyes still struggling to make sense of his surroundings. What happened … Belseraph, he starts, his memory slowly returning. The events from earlier begin to play out like photographs – simple snapshots of the moments before his black out. He sees Belseraph sinking beneath the water as a dark wave crashes over the madman’s face. Next, he sees Detective Burke kneeling next to him while the flashing lights of police cars flare in the background. The police, he recalls as an image of officers rushing up to him suddenly plays back in his mind. They arrived and then … then …

As he tries to remember what comes next, his physical senses begin to grow stronger. He feels the soft cushion supporting his back, holding his spine in alignment comfortably. His chest feels lighter – the skin of his arms cool and drafty. Raising his hand weakly, he places it on his breast to feel his own flesh beneath his torn t-shirt. My vest, he thinks in a panic. And my jacket, they’re … they’re gone. Suddenly, a strange pang of pain shoots from his hand – the pain is deep, seeming to come from below his skin – emanating from even deeper.

As his ears pop, he hears the continuous ‘beep’ of an electrocardiogram in the background. Blinking, the white light around him finally comes into focus. He sees white cabinets with silver metal knobs, a red cross emblem in the center of the doors. At his side, he notices an IV drip hanging from the ceiling. As he follows the tube down, he sees it leading to a needle forced into one of the veins on his hand.
Oh no, he thinks with worry, suddenly realizing where he may be. With a quick flinch, he brings his hands to his face – feeling desperately for the cold metal of his helmet, lest his true face be revealed. Startling him, a hand reaches from behind and touches his shoulder, patting it gently.

“Hey, hey, relax,” the voice begins, speaking in a calm yet commanding tone. “Your helmet’s still on your face.” As Jason rests his hands back down at his side, he feels a sharp stinging from his arm, causing him to inadvertently wince.

“Where am I,” he asks defensively, turning to face his potential captor. A wave of surprise comes over him as he realizes the person’s identity. Detective Dagmar Procjnow, he thinks, gasping slightly beneath his cracked and dented hood. What the-

“You’re in the cab of an ambulance,” she begins, leaning back against the ivory colored cabinets. “We’re parked on the outskirts of the city.” Jason lifts himself up, leaning forward on the stretcher as he tries to find a comfortable position.
“And I’m not in a hospital … why?” He asks, unsure of which question to ask first.

“Because then you’d be in official police custody,” a second voice calls out from a head. As Jason looks forward, he sees an EMT officer leaning against the back of the open cab, casually smoking a cigarette against the backdrop of a dark Gotham alleyway.

“Wait – I’m not under arrest?” He questions, somewhat confused.
“No,” Dagmar answers, folding her arms over her chest.
“How’d I manage that?” Jason grins.
“You didn’t,” Dagmar replies, her tone somewhat displeased. “You can thank Detective Burke for that.”

Tommy … that’s right.

“Is he okay?”
“Fine,” the EMT says, blowing out a long trail of gray smoke into the air. “He’s in stable condition at Gotham General.”
“Burke told us you saved his life,” Dagmar explains, exhaling loudly through her nose. “Asked me if I could do you a favor.”
“And you agreed – that’s curious.”
“Burke’s my partner,” she growls. “He’s saved my butt too many times to count. It was the least I could do.”

“Aw, and here I thought I made a new friend,” Jason remarks sardonically. “So, how’d you manage to pull off this charade?”
“When the paramedics arrived I told them Burke said you had broken your neck. It was a legitimate enough excuse to keep your mask untouched until we got you in the ambulance.”
“To serve and protect,” the EMT calls out in between a drag. “Applies to everyone, including vigilantes like you.”

“I told the other officers I’d ride with you to the hospital – keep you in police custody.”
“And you?” Jason asks, turning to the paramedic. “Why’d you agree to go along with this?”

“Burke’s a good cop,” he says simply, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it with the tip of his shoe. “And it never hurts to have a favor you can call in later,” he replies with a smirk.

“Watch it, Lark,” Dagmar grumbles, noticeably irritated by the whole charade.
“Sorry,” he says in a dry, unremorseful voice as he steps back into the cab. Dagmar turns back to the Red Hood, a frown pulling the muscles of her face downward.

“Lark cleaned and stitched your wounds,” she says, changing the subject quickly. “It’s not five star medical care, but it’ll do.”
“That’s fine,” Jason says, looking to the stained bandage wrapped around his arm where Croc had slashed him. “I’ll heal.”

“I’ve never seen anything like the one on your arm. What’d you do, run into a pitchfork?” The man’s question disturbs Jason, raising an eerie panic within him.

“Wait, you telling me you didn’t see the guy?”
“What ‘guy’?” Dagmar asks impatiently.
“The huge crocodile man!” He exclaims in frustration. “He was lying not two yards from me!” Dagmar and Lark share looks of confusion, unsure of whom Jason speaks.
“What are you talking about?”
“Let me guess,” Jason says with a long sigh, resting his head in his palm. “You haven't seen the circus' show, have you?”
“No,” she says annoyed.

“Okay … well one of the performers was a big guy who looked like a lizard. You didn’t find anyone there matching that description?” Dagmar gives him a strange look before shaking her head from side to side. “Great … Now I’ll have to deal withhim again. How much did Burke get to tell you before he was taken to Gotham General, anyway?”
“Not much. Just that the guy who ran the circus tried to kill him and that you saved his life. He pretty much became incoherent after that.”
“That explains a lot,” Jason says with a discouraged tone. “Did you guys find anyone else in the area?” He asks, somewhat hopeful.

“About a half hour ago a few firemen found Joseph Rigger in the wreckage of the tent. He’s badly burned, but he’ll live.”

Probably that Firebug nut, Jason muses.

“If that’s the guy I think he is, you’re gonna want round the clock security watching him. It’ll all be in Burke’s report, I’m sure.” Jason spins on his rear, throwing his legs over the side of the cot. He grabs the numerous wires attached to diodes on his chest, ripping them free and causing the ECG to flat-line.

“Leaving so soon?”
“Mother always told me not to overstay my welcome,” he quips. Jason grabs the IV in his hand gently and pulls it from his vein, exercising great care and tact like only a professional could. “In all seriousness, Detective, thanks for your help.”

“Oh, sure, thank her for everything …” Lark mumbles beneath his breath.

The skin between Dagmar’s eyebrows wrinkles and her face becomes tight. “Like I told you, I did this as a favor for Burke. Don’t expect me to show you the same compassion next time we meet.” Jason smiles, glad to see the detective’s resolve hasn’t softened.

“I would expect nothing less.” Dagmar takes a few steps toward the seat at the back of the cab. She grabs Jason’s jacket and vest piled on top of the cushion and tosses it to him roughly. Jason grabs the heap of cloth from the air, nearly dropping it to the floor. Quickly, he pulls the vest over his head, securing it across his torso. He pulls his arms into the sleeves of his jacket and adjusts it over the heavy armor, completing the Red Hood’s usual façade. “But, if we ever do cross paths again, I’ll be watching your back.” He turns to Lark, “both of you.”

“Aw, how touching,” he says ambivalently.

Jason walks toward the exit and jumps out the opening and onto the street outside. Ignoring the pain in his tendons, he runs to the building before him and climbs up the fire escape, moving an evidently slower than usual. Still, he reaches the rooftop with impressive speed and agility, and before long he stands at the top, looking out over the ledge like a sentinel. “Oh, and don’t bother following the GPS you put in my jacket,” he calls out as he runs off across the roof, moving out of sight. “I’ll be discarding it in a dumpster momentarily.” The vigilante’s voice echoes through the alley for a few moments before fading out, and soon the deep silence of the Gotham night returns.

Inside the back of the ambulance, Douglas Lark and Dagmar Procjnow look out at the vacant alley, staring aimlessly. “So,” Lark speaks up.
“How are you going to explain him ‘escaping’?” Dagmar shrugs, taking in a long and deep breath.
“I don’t know,” she says truthfully. “I’ll figure something out.”

****​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

I exit my car and walk across the street to the crappy looking townhouse. The lights are out and just looking in the window I can tell the place hasn't been lived in for awhile.

"Crap. Even after I leave the police force, Edward Nygma figures out a way to screw me over."

I take a quick look around the neighborhood. All is quiet, nobody is out. It takes me a little over a minute to pick the front door and let myself in. The living room of the house is a mess, rotting food, overturned furniture, and buckets of piss.

"Times like this, I'm glad I wear a piece of whatever the hell this mask is made out of over my nose."

I start to look through the garbage and waste, hoping and praying for any kind of clue to Nayfield's location. Working through the living room, I stop suddenly when I hear a window break somewhere in the back of the house. Pulling my .45 out of the shoulder holster, I begin walking towards the back of the house.​

 

[J'adore]

.LESLIE WILLIS.

Coughing slightly, Leslie flinched her body. Bette quickly moved over to her, carefully raising the cabinet with her hands. Rolling out from the piles of newspapers, Leslie groaned as she got her feet once again.

"Need some heatin' up?" Bette winked before, waving her hand slowly, causing a circle of minor explosions around Leslie.

Surrounding by a ring of fire, Leslie blasted the flames away, smirking at her regained powers. "Nice control,"

Whisper jumped into the air, hovering carefully. Her hands glowed a bright gold, whilst Vicki still lay unconcious against the floor. The two women held on to eachother tightly, backing away to the door. Leslie's eyes stayed fixed on Vicki.

"Do something funny with your powers, make smoke, make flames! That will be the decoy...Once that thing is distracted, I blast it. That sound good?" Leslie shook as she spoke low and calmly to Bette. Nodding, Bette let go of her companion, strutting forward with a large smirk.

Quickly shooting a large energy blast towards Bette, she flipped into the air, spreading out her arms like an angel, landing gracefully and with great poise. Going into a bow, Bette laughed as she finished off her bow, letting an explosion wrap itself around Whisper.

Ceasing the oppurtunity to get to the now fallen Whisper, Leslie sprinted past the flames and smoke, catching a quick glimpse of Bette, standing in the midst of everything.

Stretching her arms out infront of her, Leslie blasted consecutive amounts of high voltage electricity, watching as it consumed the Star'ro in seconds.

The small, stuffy room that held archives and archives of the Daily Planet's newspapers was now destroyed. Quickly slinging Vicki over her shoulder, Leslie sprinted towards the nearest exit she could find. A sudden blast of flames knocked Leslie to the side, crashing into the wall, Vicki still firmly over her shoulder.

Looking back over to Whisper, she could see the flames soon consuming the area, and it wasn't long before Leslie couldn't see the now unconcious and now unbrainwashed Whisper D'Aire anymore.

"Come on, Leslie! This way, ándale, ándale!" The sound of Bette's whip lead the way for Leslie, who's eyes could only see crimson red flames and dark, thick smoke.

As soon as she saw Bette, she collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily and dropping Vicki beside her. Taking a look around her, Leslie sees the offices, spots and lines of flames everywhere. Followed by the unconcious bodies and dead Star'ro's of the Ninja's. In the mix-up of the Ninja's lie Etta, who is too unconcious.

"Call Midnight, tell her we need her assistance."

***

"Yes, I have visual of the next two targets. But there's a bonus...That reporter, Vicki Vale. How about I make her an offer she can't refuse...?"

<"For now, Spencer, just focus on the other two. With Moon dead, I'm sure The Wall will finally get my message...">

Speaking into her mic, strapped from her ear to her mouth, Manhunter held her electronkinetic powered bo staff firmly, smirking at the sight of Leslie and Bette.

"From the moment you paid that man, I knew he was going to be trouble. Oh and another thing, what about The Body Doubles? Are they really dead?"

<"Don't worry about them. Leave all that to me. Including Vicki Vale">

​

 

[Saved]

Red Hood​

One Week Later​

Gotham, East End

Jason Todd parks his motorcycle outside a local bar – securing it in an easily accessible location. As he pulls the keys out of the ignition he grits his teeth, wincing as the sore wound over his tricep begins to burn. Instantly he is reminded of his battle with the reptilian beast known as Killer Croc, a henchman of the maniacal Belseraph. The four deep and jagged slashes carefully stitched back together are his souvenir from facing the mighty beast. Seven days since their fight and the wounds still have yet to heal. The limited mobility Jason has endured keeps the monster on his mind daily – reminding him that the dangerous hybrid still stalks the streets of Gotham.

“Pain medication’s wearing off again,” he tells himself, slipping the keys of his bike into his jacket pocket. “Perfect timing.” Jason walks up toward the bar, holding his injured arm stiff – keeping his movement to a minimum. Under his arm beneath his jacket, he conceals his Red Hood helmet – keeping it ready should he need to assume the identity.

As he reaches the door, he opens it and enters. Inside, Jason comes face to face with the underworld of Gotham. The East End is well known for its criminal enterprise – nearly everyone who lives here is dirty, having some kind of tie to one of Gotham’s crime families. That’s what makes bars like this the perfect location for leads. People tend to get talkative around happy hour, and pertinent information to crimes and illegal activity usually come free of charge.

Jason maneuvers himself through the filled tables as he moves toward the bar. The heavy clouds of cigar smoke create a thick haze that seems to hang in the air. The tinted red lights cast an eerie glow on the room, making the establishment seem even more sinister. As he passes the seated gothamites, he hears scattered tales and stories. He listens closely, hoping to hear some kind of talk that could lead him to Killer Croc.

“Then we left him in the warehouse and-“

“-wouldn’t believe the size of the haul, man. We’re talkin’ forty, no, fifty-“​

“-ennet Beach, yesterday. Kidnapped the daughter of some family with the boss. Her mother cried and-” ​

Jason suddenly stops as the excerpt from one of the conversations catches his attention. Kidnapping, he thinks, a scowl coming over his face in anger. Killer Croc can wait.

Jason pretends to trip, falling to the ground and out of sight to bring as little attention to himself as possible. He pulls the helmet out from under his jacket and slips it on his head quickly, locking it into place at the apex of his neck. Pushing himself up from the floor, he rises ominously – his faceless mask projecting a menacing stare.

The Red Hood walks up to the man still bragging about his exploits from the night before. He laughs and jests as he casually takes a gulp of his beer, unaware of the disgruntled vigilante standing just behind him.

“So boss tells us he’s got plans, heh heh. Big money- new beginnings for all of us.” As he continues to boast, the men at the table with him stare in fear at the Red Hood. Slowly, they push out their chairs, backing up and preparing to make a run for it.

“Uh, Radvych…” one of them begins as he raises his finger to point.
“What?” He asks confused. The Red Hood reaches out, grabbing the man’s head in one hand and his arm in the other. With quick action, Jason slams the man’s face to the table as he pulls the man’s arm back, putting pressure on all the joints of his arm.

“Don’t stop on my account, Rad,” he growls, pulling upward on his arm. “Go on.” The entire bar goes silent as everyone turns to see the commotion. All the denizens stare at the Red Hood, watching him as he holds the man captive in his seat. A few seconds pass and the people turn back in their chairs, returning to their own conversations as if nothing had happened. The Red Hood’s reputation is well known amongst the underworld. Some find him a threat but most see him as crazed and psychotic. In the mind of Gotham’s criminals, it’s better to leave him alone and worry about themselves than get involved in something that doesn’t concern them.

As the scattered murmurs fill the air once more, the two men at the other side of the table reach for their weapons. The Red Hood simply gives them a glance, the eye slits of the mask seeming to take on an expression of their own. “You have two options; you could either try to shoot me, and probably die in the act – or you can run while I have a nice chat with your friend.” The two men stare at each other, and then back to the Hood. Without missing a beat, they rise from the table and make their way to the exit hastily.

“Hey! Guys, guys!”
“I wouldn’t worry about them,” he growls – almost feral with anger. “Now, who’s the girl.”
“I… I know nothing,” he lies. Jason grips the hair at the back of the man’s skull and slams his face into the table once more.
“Let’s try that again, shall we?”
“O-Oksana, Oksana Russovich!” He cowardly screams.
“Who’s your boss?”

“Come on, man,” he whimpers as he tries to look over his shoulder, only to be slammed back to the table top.
“Name – NOW.”
“Boris Nayfeld.” Jason recognizes the name, having heard it before in the passing speech of other criminals from time to time.

“Where is he?”
“I’ll tell you, okay? Just promise me … promise me you’ll kill him when you find him. Please, Red Hood – he’ll kill me for talking!”
“Where, Radvych?” He answers simply.
“123 Fyke Street, in Bennet Beach.” The Red Hood grunts as he releases the man, thrusting him forward with disgust.

“You’re scum, Radvych. You and your boss.”
“Not like there is much you can do,” he smirks, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. “Everyone knows you are wanted by police.”
“I could kill you.”
“Not here,” he taunts. “People may care for themselves, but dead body means cops – they won’t let that happen.”

“Unless they’re the ones responsible,” he says cryptically. Reaching forward, the Red Hood grabs the man forcefully, pulling him in close as he wraps his arm around the man’s shoulders in an informal matter. “Hey, bar-keep!” He shouts, getting the bartender’s attention. “My friend here just won big at the casinos tonight, and since he’s such a nice guy, he offered to buy everyone a round of vodka for the rest of the night!” The bar suddenly erupts in loud cheers as all eyes fall on Radvych.
“What?”

“Yep, Radvych here is so generous, isn’t he? I mean, he’s so loaded right now, he makes Bruce Wayne look poor! Haha!”

“What are you doing?” He asks aggressively. “I don’t have money!”
“Well, you better figure out a way to explain to all these people why they have to pay for the liquor you said you’d pay for.”
“But you said that!”

“You said, I said – it’s all relative. Have a nice night, Radvych – and drink up.” The Red Hood releases the man, throwing him into the adjacent chair. “It’ll probably be your last.”

With his final words the Red Hood turns away and walks out of the bar as the crowd inside begins to sing in celebration.

****​

A half hour later, Jason pulls up to Fyke Street. He parks his motorcycle behind a bush at the corner, removing it from plain sight. Stealthily, he makes his way through the backyards of the other houses until he reaches the home for which he’s looking. By the back door he sees the number 123, a proverbial ‘x marks the spot’. Using his uninjured arm, Jason thrusts his elbow through the back window – scattering glass onto the floor inside. Not wasting a second, he slips inside and begins searching – hoping to catch his intended target off guard.

 

[Andy C.]

Lex Luthor
​

"Then you're aware that the infection is growing." With my arms crossed over my chest, I need to try to convey the importance and seriousness of the situation, but not intimidate the man. Actually, I'm not certain that I could intimidate Lex even if I wanted to.

Following him in from the balcony, I do my best to hide the distaste from my voice. "A number of superheroes and I have pooled our resources to try to fight this invasion, but all we seem to be doing is stalling it, and we can't keep it up forever." Something in the towers is making a unique low humming noise, which gets my attention since I couldn't hear it from outside. Luthor apparently has some means of dampening the sounds of whatever experiments he and his company get up to in here. Like the act of lining the building with lead in paranoia of my spying on him, he also seems to have taken measures to prevent me from eavesdropping on him from outside the building. This strikes my curiosity for only a brief moment before I remind myself of the matter at hand.

"A woman called the Atom may have found a way to defeat the source of the infection with a high powered sound frequency, but she and STAR Labs need one of your satellites in orbit in order to carry that frequency."

"I assume you're speaking of the Titan Satellite," I say as I pace back and forth, trying to give off the appearance that I'm sizing him up. In truth, I'm doing all in my power to not just bolt for the Blue power source in search of a weapon. Even with the world falling to a parasitic plague, I'm still far more terrified by standing in a room with Superman. Fortunately, any good businessman knows how to maintain a proper poker face. And I am an exceptional businessman.

"A cutting-edge high-orbit communications array, able to generate a signal powerful enough to cover an entire hemisphere by itself, and the whole planet when linked with support satellites. One of my better commercial efforts recently, took me nearly an entire afternoon to design. It cost nearly four billion dollars, all privately funded. It will be more than up to the task of broadcasting your frequency....on one condition."

I turn to Superman and look him dead in the eye. This is the most challenging, and therefore the most rewarding, part of any negotiation: stating your own demands and requests in a way that the other party will accept. Come off too strong and they will be indignant, forcing you to compromise. Make it sound too good for them, and they will become suspicious.

"A summit," I state plainly. "Yourself and as many of your fellow heroes as you can muster, meeting with myself and members of my Society, to discuss matters such as these, and how they should play out in the future. The metahumans you have gathered today could indeed wield enough power to shape the earth as you see fit. And while I may not be able to change the course of rivers with my bare hands, I assure you my influence can shape the world as well. I believe it would be prudent for all parties to meet and work out any potential.....conflicts of interests."

 

[Byrd Man]

A half hour later, Jason pulls up to Fyke Street. He parks his motorcycle behind a bush at the corner, removing it from plain sight. Stealthily, he makes his way through the backyards of the other houses until he reaches the home for which he’s looking. By the back door he sees the number 123, a proverbial ‘x marks the spot’. Using his uninjured arm, Jason thrusts his elbow through the back window – scattering glass onto the floor inside. Not wasting a second, he slips inside and begins searching – hoping to catch his intended target off guard.

I lean against a wall, listening as whoever begins stomping through the house. They're quiet, but I've heard quieter. Pulling my .45 to my chest, I take a deep breath and peak around the corner. A silhouetted figure appears down at the end of a hallway. Turning back behind the wall, I call out.

"I'm not sure who you are, Mister B&E Man, but I'd stay where you are. I got a big ass gun in my hands and it's loaded."

 

[Saved]

I lean against a wall, listening as whoever begins stomping through the house. They're quiet, but I've heard quieter. Pulling my .45 to my chest, I take a deep breath and peak around the corner. A silhouetted figure appears down at the end of a hallway. Turning back behind the wall, I call out.

"I'm not sure who you are, Mister B&E Man, but I'd stay where you are. I got a big ass gun in my hands and it's loaded."

Jason perks up, stoping where he stands and remaining still and silent. He pauses in the darkness, listening for any noises that could pinpoint the location of his unexpected guest. No russian accent, he thinks - analyzing the man's speech. And the way he talks ... those aren't phrases an immigrant would use. Still, it could be a hired gun - best to stay frosty.

"Feel free to shoot," he taunts, moving to the wall next to the door. "I'm curious to see how effective it'll be."

 

[Byrd Man]

Jason perks up, stoping where he stands and remaining still and silent. He pauses in the darkness, listening for any noises that could pinpoint the location of his unexpected guest. No russian accent, he thinks - analyzing the man's speech. And the way he talks ... those aren't phrases an immigrant would use. Still, it could be a hired gun - best to stay frosty.

"Feel free to shoot," he taunts, moving to the wall next to the door. "I'm curious to see how effective it'll be."

**** me. Why do they always have to call my bluffs?

"C'mon, man. I got a gun."

I snap open the revolver's chamber, spinning it around and snapping it shut. "Hear that? .45 ACP Revolver. Not exactly a magnum, but it'll **** you up just the same."

And it's loaded with rubber bullets. Won't kill him, but it'll certainly make him drop whatever weapons he has.

"Listen, you sound like a reasonable guy. The scumbag I'm looking for is a dirty, dirty commie. Ruskie who kidnapped a little girl two nights ago. I wanna kick his ass and save the girl. You help me out, I don't shoot. Waddya say?"

 

[Saved]

**** me. Why do they always have to call my bluffs?

"C'mon, man. I got a gun."

I snap open the revolver's chamber, spinning it around and snapping it shut. "Hear that? .45 ACP Revolver. Not exactly a magnum, but it'll **** you up just the same."

And it's loaded with rubber bullets. Won't kill him, but it'll certainly make him drop whatever weapons he has.

"Listen, you sound like a reasonable guy. The scumbag I'm looking for is a dirty, dirty commie. Ruskie who kidnapped a little girl two nights ago. I wanna kick his ass and save the girl. You help me out, I don't shoot. Waddya say?"

He's looking for the girl too, Jason ponders - relaxing for a moment. He halts his thoughts, raising his guard once more. No - he could be lying.

"How do I know you're not trying to trick me so you can put a bullet in my head?" He questions, raising his arms chest level, preparing to fight if need be. "You are the guy with a revolver."

 

[Byrd Man]

He's looking for the girl too, Jason ponders - relaxing for a moment. He halts his thoughts, raising his guard once more. No - he could be lying.

"How do I know you're not trying to trick me so you can put a bullet in my head?" He questions, raising his arms chest level, preparing to fight if need be. "You are the guy with a revolver."

"That's a fair point..."

I toss the revolver out into the hallway. It landss on the hardwood floor with a dull thud.

"My only weapon right there."

That's not my only weapon, but it is my only gun. Got a few back-up goodies in case this guy is full of ****.

 

[Saved]

"That's a fair point..."

I toss the revolver out into the hallway. It landss on the hardwood floor with a dull thud.

"My only weapon right there."

That's not my only weapon, but it is my only gun. Got a few back-up goodies in case this guy is full of ****.

Jason listens to the thud, hearing the barrel of the revolver roll as it slides across the floor. "... How do you know I'm not working for Nayfeld?"

"I don't," the man replies simply. Going against his better judgement, Jason decides to trust the unknown man. He takes a deep breath and grabs hold of the doorknob.

Alright - Spinning it in his palm, he opens the door and swings it backward as he moves into the hallway. Before him he sees a man in a blue trenchcoat, a suit and tie beneath. A navy fedora rests atop the man's featureless face. A crackling noise followed by a faint, flashing light catches Jason's eye. He looks down to see the man holding a taser - primed and ready to be used.

"Well ... at least it's not a gun," he replies, somewhat surprised. "You know who else uses tasers? Batgirl."

 

[Byrd Man]

Alright - Spinning it in his palm, he opens the door and swings it backward as he moves into the hallway. Before him he sees a man in a blue trenchcoat, a suit and tie beneath. A navy fedora rests atop the man's featureless face. A crackling noise followed by a faint, flashing light catches Jason's eye. He looks down to see his the man holding a taser - primed and ready to be used.

"Well ... at least it's not a gun," he replies, somewhat surprised. "You know who else uses tasers? Batgirl."

"And I'm sure I have a better ass."

I shut off the taser and pocket it. I look the masked stranger up and down. "I'm guessing by the outfit that you're the dude they call the Red Hood. And I am..."

"The Question."

"I am not Ror-...wait, what? Yeah, I'm the Question. Wow, I'm surprised you got it right on the first go around."

 

[Saved]

"And I'm sure I have a better ass."

I shut off the taser and pocket it. I look the masked stranger up and down. "I'm guessing by the outfit that you're the dude they call the Red Hood. And I am..."

"The Question."

"I am not Ror-...wait, what? Yeah, I'm the Question. Wow, I'm surprised you got it right on the first go around."

"I like to keep tabs on all the citizens of Gotham - especially the eccentric ones," he replies quickly, untensing his muscles slightly. "Plus, you've got a pretty unique get-up. Not many people running around without a face."

 

[Byrd Man]

"I like to keep tabs on all the citizens of Gotham - especially the eccentric ones," he replies quickly, untensing his muscles slightly. "Plus, you've got a pretty unique get-up. Not many people running around without a face."

"Believe it or not, I wasn't born this way. I had a summer gig as a Ghostbuster. Remember when they said not to look into the traps? Well, I looked into the trap. Sucked my face clean off."

Hood and I stand around in silence for a few seconds. I reach down and pick up my gun, sliding it back into the holster. "So, you want to go find that little girl that was kidnapped? Like work together? Already got a sense that you're more of a team player than Batman. Guy is a real prick."

 

[Saved]

"Believe it or not, I wasn't born this way. I had a summer gig as a Ghostbuster. Remember when they said not to look into the traps? Well, I looked into the trap. Sucked my face clean off."

Hood and I stand around in silence for a few seconds. I reach down and pick up my gun, sliding it back into the holster. "So, you want to go find that little girl that was kidnapped? Like work together? Already got a sense that you're more of a team player than Batman. Guy is a real prick."

Jason grins beneath his helmet, stiffling a laugh. "He gives that vibe sometimes."

"Yeah, sure - I'm all for a team up," he answers with belated excitement. Might be a good idea to have someone watching my back while my arm's still sensitive.

"I'm guessing you searched the house and found it empty, huh?" He begins, getting back to the case.

 

[Byrd Man]

Jason grins beneath his helmet, stiffling a laugh. "He gives that vibe sometimes."

"Yeah, sure - I'm all for a team up," he answers with belated excitement. Might be a good idea to have someone watching my back while my arm's still sensitive.

"I'm guessing you searched the house and found it empty, huh?" He begins, getting back to the case.

"Just the living room. I found nothing but rotten food and buckets filled with old piss. Hobos have been using this place to squat for at least a few weeks now. I doubt we find any kind of clue to the girl's whereabouts here. Before you came busting in, I was going to head to her house and ask her parents a few questions about what happened before she was kidnapped. Up for it?"

 

[Saved]

"Just the living room. I found nothing but rotten food and buckets filled with old piss. Hobos have been using this place to squat for at least a few weeks now. I doubt we find any kind of clue to the girl's whereabouts here. Before you came busting in, I was going to head to her house and ask her parents a few questions about what happened before she was kidnapped. Up for it?"

"You might want to ask most of the questions," Jason suggests, trailing behind the vigilante as they walk down the hallway. "I've got a reputation for being ... violent. Really doesn't help my P.R. with the common folk."

 

[Byrd Man]

"You might want to ask most of the questions," Jason suggests, trailing behind the vigilante as they walk down the hallway. "I've got a reputation for being ... violent. Really doesn't help my P.R. with the common folk."

"At least you have a rep. Most people think I'm Rorschach Jr."

We head out the house's front door and across the street to my car.

"Be careful with the seats. I just had them done. This car is my baby. Cost me countless overtime dollars and a wife, but I think it was a fair trade."

I slide into the driver's seat as Hood shuts the passenger door. The GTO roars to life as soon as I turn the switch and the CD player comes to life.

[YT]Cvy7MWjfVPE[/YT]

"Oh, hell yeah."

I turn it up until Chuck D sounds like he's rapping in the backseat. I turn to Hood and shout over the music. "Buckle up! Safety first, you know!"
​

 

[Bounce]

"Two feet is about this wide," I say as I spread my hands apart to demonstrate the length. "That's how close we got to get? Yeesh, not a whole lot of breathing room."

I look down at the device in my hands. Only twenty-four shots with it? That's not gonna do us a whole lot of good. But it's a quick fix while I'm assuming Supes and Atom work on a more permanent solution.

"But if there's anyone that can do it, I know it's us."

I nod towards the kid and smile. He's a strange child, that's for sure. But if he's an alien like Superman, I can forgive him for that. And besides, he could turn me into a greasy spot on the ground if I pissed him off.

"You ready to do this? See if we can use these things to help save some lives?"

The young Kryptonian nodded his understanding as to the distance they were working with, but the last part of the teenager's commentary throw into contrast what seems like a growing disparity between the world of Superman and the ethics that Lor had been raised with. The sandy haired child just looked at the Flash with confusion plainly written on his face, then just shook his head and seemed to busy himself so that he wouldn't think about it.

Taking his own transmitter, the child made his way over to the group of three men he'd earlier bound with a warped and bent streep lamp pole. Triggering the device near the group of humans, Lor causually unknotted the metal to release the trio.

So the device that Atom had constructed worked. What was the benefit to saving these humans? Why reward their weakness by saving them?

"Is saving lives important?" It was an innocent enough question, but as the boy turned to look at Flash the real question was plain on his face. Why was everyone making such an effort?

 

[Byrd Man]

Taking his own transmitter, the child made his way over to the group of three men he'd earlier bound with a warped and bent streep lamp pole. Triggering the device near the group of humans, Lor causually unknotted the metal to release the trio.

So the device that Atom had constructed worked. What was the benefit to saving these humans? Why reward their weakness by saving them?

"Is saving lives important?" It was an innocent enough question, but as the boy turned to look at Flash the real question was plain on his face. Why was everyone making such an effort?

"No offense, dude...but are you serious?"

I race off and use Atom's transmitter to save a couple of infected people before returning to Superboy's side.

"Saving lives is why we put on these ridiculous costumes and run around like this. It's selfish and immoral to have these abilities and not to use them for the greater good. I may look stupid sometimes, but if I can save one innocent person's life with my speed, then I know that it's all worth it. Imagine if the tables were turned and you didn't have all those fancy powers. Would you like it if some dude who could help you went on by and minded his own business?"