The New Ultimate DC RPG

[Bounce]

"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?"

The child can only blink at the words from Flash. Then a second time as he tries to really comprehend the notion that the human is selling him. Is that why Superman does what he does?

"That's the way of things. That's what I was taught," Lor remarked in answer to the question. After he'd answered it, the boy walked over to the dumpster that had part of a Buick resting on top of it so that he could free the people trapped inside. The group of garbage covered people seemed somewhat less than pleased at the situation they found themselves in, though Superboy merely ignored them as he made his way back out to the street and looked around.

"My father told me that weakness should not be rewarded. That those who survive must be worthy of their survival," the young Kryptonian added, returning his attention to the Flash. "To save people who cannot save themselves is a, uh... different... way of thinking."

The child gave another pause, then said. "But then Superman seems quite different." The boy still wasn't certain why the Kryptonian hadn't struck him when his honor had been challenged by the boy.

 

[Byrd Man]

The child can only blink at the words from Flash. Then a second time as he tries to really comprehend the notion that the human is selling him. Is that why Superman does what he does?

"That's the way of things. That's what I was taught," Lor remarked in answer to the question. After he'd answered it, the boy walked over to the dumpster that had part of a Buick resting on top of it so that he could free the people trapped inside. The group of garbage covered people seemed somewhat less than pleased at the situation they found themselves in, though Superboy merely ignored them as he made his way back out to the street and looked around.

"My father told me that weakness should not be rewarded. That those who survive must be worthy of their survival," the young Kryptonian added, returning his attention to the Flash. "To save people who cannot save themselves is a, uh... different... way of thinking."

The child gave another pause, then said. "But then Superman seems quite different." The boy still wasn't certain why the Kryptonian hadn't struck him when his honor had been challenged by the boy.

"Survival of the fittest, huh? I'm sure Darwin would be proud."

Superboy blinks, not understanding the name. "He was a scientist, don't worry about it. Anyway, what kind of people would we be if we could help and didn't? I understand that's the way you were raised, but it's not really the Earth way....well, for most of us it isn't. The point is, we're given these powers and abilities for a reason, and that reason is to help others. But, that's just my theory. I'm sure crazy-ass Batman would agree with the survival of the fittest stuff."

 

[Saved]

"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!"​

The Red Hood stares blankly at the Question as the seats reverberate from the loud music. "Sure thing, DOC!" He replies sarcastically, immitating the voice of Michael J. Fox. "Can this thing really get up to 88 miles per hour?!"

Jason turns away and grabs the seatbelt, pulling it carefully over his chest and locking it into place. The car engine roars to life, and the vehicle pulls into the street - driving off down the road.

"So," Jason shouts, trying to be heard over the music as it continues to blare. "How are we going to talk to the family without them freaking out? It's not like this is the best time for two masked men to show up uninvited."

 

[Byrd Man]

The Red Hood stares blankly at the Question as the seats reverberate from the loud music. "Sure thing, DOC!" He replies sarcastically, immitating the voice of Michael J. Fox. "Can this thing really get up to 88 miles per hour?!"

Jason turns away and grabs the seatbelt, pulling it carefully over his chest and locking it into place. The car engine roars to life, and the vehicle pulls into the street - driving off down the road.

"So," Jason shouts, trying to be heard over the music as it continues to blare. "How are we going to talk to the family without them freaking out? It's not like this is the best time for two masked men to show up uninvited."

"We'll say we're cops and keep our faces hidden in the shadows."

I shift into fifth gear, letting the car push past seventy miles an hour. I turn and look at Hood. "Well, I'll keep my face hidden while you stay hidden period. GCPD doesn't have a biker division."

I turn my attention back to the front, weaving through the traffic at eighty miles an hour, my right hand on the wheel and my left arm hanging out the open window.

 

[Saved]

"We'll say we're cops and keep our faces hidden in the shadows."

I shift into fifth gear, letting the car push past seventy miles an hour. I turn and look at Hood. "Well, I'll keep my face hidden while you stay hidden period. GCPD doesn't have a biker division."

I turn my attention back to the front, weaving through the traffic at eighty miles an hour, my right hand on the wheel and my left arm hanging out the open window.

Less than ten minutes pass before the two heroes arrive at the Russovich's address. The car parks across the street from the home, pulling comfortably up to the curb as the headlights fade out. Jason turns to look at the house, taking note of the area and various features.

"Wow," he says in surprise. "Nice house," Jason unhooks the seatbelt and opens the door, stepping out into the night. "It looks like they have security lights, Q. Might want to tread wisely."

 

[Byrd Man]

"Wow," he says in surprise. "Nice house," Jason unhooks the seatbelt and opens the door, stepping out into the night. "It looks like they have security lights, Q. Might want to tread wisely."

"The little girl's old man was making a killing at his appliance stores. It's about the nicest house in the whole....part of the city."

Hood and I venture across the street to the sidewalk. "Don't worry about the floodlights. I am stealth personified. Whoa!"

I walk on to the lawn and promptly get snagged by a trip wire. Falling hard to the ground, I gasp for air and crawl back to the sidewalk as the security lights pop on.

"Who's there?!"

I hide my face in the shadows, looking up at the chubby man on the porch. His meaty hands are wrapped around a pump -action shotgun. He pumps around into the chamber and levels it at us.

"You have five seconds to talk before I call cops."

I fish around in my jacket and pull out a badge, an almost perfect copy of my old GCPD badge. I hold it in the light for the man to see.

"Detective Spencer, Missing Persons. This is my partner, Sergeant...Serpico. We've been canvassing the area, looking for clues about your daughter. We'd like to ask you a few more questions if we can."

The man begins to lower his shotgun and eyes us strangely. "What do you want to know?"

"I know some of my co-workers already asked you this...but are you sure nothing strange happened the day your daughter was abducted?"

 

[Saved]

"The little girl's old man was making a killing at his appliance stores. It's about the nicest house in the whole....part of the city."

Hood and I venture across the street to the sidewalk. "Don't worry about the floodlights. I am stealth personified. Whoa!"

I walk on to the lawn and promptly get snagged by a trip wire. Falling hard to the ground, I gasp for air and crawl back to the sidewalk as the security lights pop on.

"Who's there?!"

I hide my face in the shadows, looking up at the chubby man on the porch. His meaty hands are wrapped around a pump -action shotgun. He pumps around into the chamber and levels it at us.

"You have five seconds to talk before I call cops."

I fish around in my jacket and pull out a badge, an almost perfect copy of my old GCPD badge. I hold it in the light for the man to see.

"Detective Spencer, Missing Persons. This is my partner, Sergeant...Serpico. We've been canvassing the area, looking for clues about your daughter. We'd like to ask you a few more questions if we can."

The man begins to lower his shotgun and eyes us strangely. "What do you want to know?"

"I know some of my co-workers already asked you this...but are you sure nothing strange happened the day your daughter was abducted?"

"Yes," he replies grufly, almost insulted. "I told you people that nothing happened prior! She was just ... just taken," he stammers slightly, looking away as he fights back tears welling up in his eyes.

"Mister Russovich, I know this is hard for you," he starts in a calm and understanding tone. "But, we can't help you unless you tell us everything."

"I have!" He shouts defensively. "It doesn't matter ... you'll never find her. J-just... just stay out of this, alright?" Jason pauses as he examines the man's body language - he sees how much the man fidgets, the way he can't look at neither him nor the Question directly.

"Mister Russovich ... the men who took Oksana ... you've seen them before, haven't you?" He perks up, staring at the Red Hood, his helmet still obscured in shadows. Russovich nods reluctantly. "Please, tell us about the last time you saw them."

 

[Byrd Man]

"Mister Russovich ... the men who took Oksana ... you've seen them before, haven't you?" He perks up, staring at the Red Hood, his helmet still obscured in shadows. Russovich nods reluctantly. "Please, tell us about the last time you saw them."

"The men who took my daughter...they come to my store last week. Bad men, they demand I pay them a thousand dollars a week. Protection, they call it. Money I don't have! I refused to pay them."

I turn back and look at Hood, nodding. Damn, this guy is good. He'd be hell in an interrogation room, making the some dumb yo sweat over the project murder he was dumb enough to get caught doing.

"Do you know any of the names of these men?"

"No. Well, yes. Just one of them. He was called Boris. Boris is so common here, I'm not sure if it was real or not."

Boris. Bingo. Yahtzee. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

"Have the kidnappers left a ransom note yet?"

"No, not yet."

Alarm bells start going off in my head. The girl has been gone for nearly 48 hours, and still no note. That's not right. If this is a straight up kidnapping, the note would have been left right away or a few hours after the girl went missing. This doesn't sound right.

"The other men who were with Boris that day, describe them if you can."

"One was fat and short with blond hair, the other skinny and tall with dark hair."

Two more familiar faces. Piotr Romanov and Sergei Mikhailov. I had a memorable run in with them, the Skeevers brothers, and Carmine Falcone's lesbian daughter some months back. Boy, that was a heck of a time.

"I think that's all the questions I have, sir. I want to thank you for talking to us. I promise you, when we find out who did this...we'll kill them."

"No, we won't."

"We'll cripple them."

"Nope."

"Break every bone in their body."

"No."

"Shove a live snake up their asses."

"That's.....creative....but no."

"We'll kick their ass and see that they're arrested."

"There we go."

 

[Saved]

"The men who took my daughter...they come to my store last week. Bad men, they demand I pay them a thousand dollars a week. Protection, they call it. Money I don't have! I refused to pay them."

I turn back and look at Hood, nodding. Damn, this guy is good. He'd be hell in an interrogation room, making the some dumb yo sweat over the project murder he was dumb enough to get caught doing.

"Do you know any of the names of these men?"

"No. Well, yes. Just one of them. He was called Boris. Boris is so common here, I'm not sure if it was real or not."

Boris. Bingo. Yahtzee. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

"Have the kidnappers left a ransom note yet?"

"No, not yet."

Alarm bells start going off in my head. The girl has been gone for nearly 48 hours, and still no note. That's not right. If this is a straight up kidnapping, the note would have been left right away or a few hours after the girl went missing. This doesn't sound right.

"The other men who were with Boris that day, describe them if you can."

"One was fat and short with blond hair, the other skinny and tall with dark hair."

Two more familiar faces. Piotr Romanov and Sergei Mikhailov. I had a memorable run in with them, the Skeevers brothers, and Carmine Falcone's lesbian daughter some months back. Boy, that was a heck of a time.

"I think that's all the questions I have, sir. I want to thank you for talking to us. I promise you, when we find out who did this...we'll kill them."

"No, we won't."

"We'll cripple them."

"Nope."

"Break every bone in their body."

"No."

"Shove a live snake up their asses."

"That's.....creative....but no."

"We'll kick their ass and see that they're arrested."

"There we go."

The man steps back into his house and closes the door tightly. From the outside the sound of multiple locks shifting into place one after the other can be heard. "Wow ... guy's thorough."

As the two heroes make their way down the driveway and into the street, Jason muses over the facts of the case. "Well, that confirms Neyfeld's involvement. From what I hear, he's suppossed to be one of the Cheechen's enforcers, right?"

 

[Byrd Man]

As the two heroes make their way down the driveway and into the street, Jason muses over the facts of the case. "Well, that confirms Neyfeld's involvement. From what I hear, he's supposed to be one of the Chechen's enforcers, right?"

"Yep. Old Boris is ex-Red Army and a veteran of Afghanistan, fought there for five years before being pulled back to Moscow. Highly decorated and highly deadly, GCPD believes he's carried out close to a dozen murders and executions for the Chechen and the Falcone Crime Family."

I slide into the driver's seat and close the door. "We hit a dead in on Nayfield's last known address, but I recognize the two guys who went into Russovich's store with him. I was on he wrong side of their guns at the docks last night. Batman jumped in, cramped my style. Didn't really save me, that's for sure....I don't scream like a girl."

I start the car up and reeve the motor a little. "How about we make a stop at the last know address of Piotr Romanov, the fat blond guy who went into the store with Nayfield?"

 

[Saved]

"Yep. Old Boris is ex-Red Army and a veteran of Afghanistan, fought there for five years before being pulled back to Moscow. Highly decorated and highly deadly, GCPD believes he's carried out close to a dozen murders and executions for the Chechen and the Falcone Crime Family."

I slide into the driver's seat and close the door. "We hit a dead in on Nayfield's last known address, but I recognize the two guys who went into Russovich's store with him. I was on he wrong side of their guns at the docks last night. Batman jumped in, cramped my style. Didn't really save me, that's for sure....I don't scream like a girl."

I start the car up and reeve the motor a little. "How about we make a stop at the last know address of Piotr Romanov, the fat blond guy who went into the store with Nayfield?"

"If you've got the address," Jason complies. The car pulls away once more and begins driving down the streets. The two heroes sit in silence for a while, thinking intently to themselves about the case at hand. After a time, something peculiar catches Jason's eye. He stares into the side view mirror, watching the reflection intently as his focus is diverted from his thoughts.

Before long, the Question comes to an empty intersection. As he prepares to make a turn, Jason speaks up, "Wait," he says, catching the man's attention. "Which way are you turning?"

"Right."
"Put your left blinker on." He does as the Hood asks, flipping the left turn signal on as he turns the car right onto the next road. Jason watches as the car behind them turns their left blinker on as well, only to sharply turn right and travel behind their car. "That's not good," he sighs, adjusting his position in his seat. "We're being followed."

 

[Byrd Man]

"If you've got the address," Jason complies. The car pulls away once more and begins driving down the streets. The two heroes sit in silence for a while, thinking intently to themselves about the case at hand. After a time, something peculiar catches Jason's eye. He stares into the side view mirror, watching the reflection intently as his focus is diverted from his thoughts.

Before long, the Question comes to an empty intersection. As he prepares to make a turn, Jason speaks up, "Wait," he says, catching the man's attention. "Which way are you turning?"

"Right."

"Put your left blinker on." He does as the Hood asks, flipping the left turn signal on as he turns the car right onto the next road. Jason watches as the car behind them turns their left blinker on as well, only to sharply turn right and travel behind their car. "That's not good," he sighs, adjusting his position in his seat. "We're being followed."

"Crap. I'm gonna try and lose them."

I speed up, pushing the GTO past 80. The car behind us speeds up in an effort to catch up. I weave in and out of traffic as I try to lose them, blowing through stop signs and red lights as I go.

"Umm...how exactly can you can see the road?"

"I'm that good, baby."

I cut sharply to the right, pulling off the street and into a side alley....and side alley that dead ends straight into a brick wal.

"**** me!"

I slam on the brakes and shift into reverse. The lights of the car following us shine into the alley as they pull up behind us. So much for giving them the slip.

 

[Spike_x1]

"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."

There's more to this arrangement than he's letting on. There has to be.

"Deal."

Right now, however, there's a world at stake. Whatever ulterior motives Luthor has for a later date, I'll deal with them as they come.

 

[Saved]

"Crap. I'm gonna try and lose them."

I speed up, pushing the GTO past 80. The car behind us speeds up in an effort to catch up. I weave in and out of traffic as I try to lose them, blowing through stop signs and red lights as I go.

"Umm...how exactly can you can see the road?"

"I'm that good, baby."

I cut sharply to the right, pulling off the street and into a side alley....and side alley that dead ends straight into a brick wal.

"**** me!"

I slam on the brakes and shift into reverse. The lights of the car following us shine into the alley as they pull up behind us. So much for giving them the slip.

Jason turns to the Question, staring at him with piercing glance. "Real slick," he exclaims in aggravation. Looking over his shoulder, he turns to see three men exit the car. In their hands are various weapons - one carrying a baseball bat, the other a gun, and the third something unrecognizeable.

"We've got company," Jason announces as he unbuckles his seatbelt. "I hope you fight better than you drive."

 

[Byrd Man]

Jason turns to the Question, staring at him with piercing glance. "Real slick," he exclaims in aggravation. Looking over his shoulder, he turns to see three men exit the car. In their hands are various weapons - one carrying a baseball bat, the other a gun, and the third something unrecognizeable.

"We've got company," Jason announces as he unbuckles his seatbelt. "I hope you fight better than you drive."

"Not really...." I pull my .45 from its shoulder holster. "I paraphrase Teddy Roosevelt when I say punch softly and carry a big ass gun."

Stepping out of the car, I hold my gun up for the three men to see. "Alright, fellas, what seems to be the problem? Nothing my friends Smith & Wesson can't help solve, eh?"

 

[Saved]

"Not really...." I pull my .45 from its shoulder holster. "I paraphrase Teddy Roosevelt when I say punch softly and carry a big ass gun."

Stepping out of the car, I hold my gun up for the three men to see. "Alright, fellas, what seems to be the problem? Nothing my friends Smith & Wesson can't help solve, eh?"

The Red Hood steps out of the opposite side of the car. He watches as his ally aims his pistol, the faint moonlight reflecting off the barrel. "You're not really going to use that, right?" He snarls, diverting his attention to the attackers as they slowly approach.

 

[Byrd Man]

The Red Hood steps out of the opposite side of the car. He watches as his ally aims his pistol, the faint moonlight reflecting off the barrel. "You're not really going to use that, right?" He snarls, diverting his attention to the attackers as they slowly approach.

"Yeah, I am."

BLAM!

The gun goes off in my hands, striking one of the would-be attackers in the shoulder, he recoils from the shot and holds his shoulder in pain, not going down. I turn to Hood and shrug. "Rubber bullets. Not lethal, but it hurts like a mother****er."

The gunshot proves to be the catalyst they need, the two healthy attackers pouncing on Hood while the one injured one goes after me.

 

[J'adore]

.LESLIE WILLIS.

They drove silently. Leslie wrapped her jacket around her burns and stared blankly out of the car window. In the back lay Vicki Vale, still unconcious. Bette sat still, flinching slightly when she turned the wheel and pressed down on the brakes. Looking down at Vicki's small purse, Leslie slowly opened it, her able hand reaching into it, pulling out a small and dusty notebook.

Bette reached her left hand over to the radio, switching it on slowly, turning up the volume ever so slightly.

-Reports confirm that the explosion ocurred within The Daily Planet, was indeed casued by metahumans. After investigators were called to the scene, they discovered around one hundred unconcious 'Ninjas' as well as two females, who yet to be identified. This is Vesper Fairchild, reporting live from Metropolis Radio Station-

Bette quickly turned the radio off, her eyes shifting over to Leslie, a slight nervous look creeping up upon her face.

"You think Mandy's gonna kill us? Or that other chick, the one made of steel?"

Leslie had her booted feet rested up upon the dashboard. The notebook was open and her eyes were completley fixed on the damp pages. "We have powers. Powers that can kill and defend. Don't worry about Amanda for now...Once she's done the clean-up over at the Planet, she'll call us. Now, we just get back to my apartment and figure out what to do with flamehead back there..."

Bette rolled her eyes, shifting them back to focus on her driving. Leslie re-entered herself into the notebook, becoming completley indulged in Vicki's writing.

As Bette turns a sharp corner, Leslie drops the notebook to her feet, grunting. Quickly snapping a death glare over at Bette, it's not long before Leslie bends down to try and search for the notebook.

Before Bette can even speak, the car quickly does another sharp turn, causing the two girls to violently jerk to the right. Leslie sits up, gripping on to her seat tight, her teeth gritted. "What the hell is going on Bette!?"

Leslie's question remains unanswered, as Bette is too gripping tightly on to her seat, her expression painted with fear. Bette screeches as the car drives viciously off course, taking a direct down a large alleyway. The headlights are switched off and and the wheel steers itself.

In the back, Vicki groans as she slams her head against the car door. Awaking to an injury, Vicki quickly holds tightly onto the handle of the door, shaking and shivering. "Wh-where am I!? What is this!?"

Vicki's left hand searches for her seatbelt, strapping herself in tightly.

"This ain't me, Leslie! This car's gone crazy b**** on me!" Bette lets out a small wimper as the car suddenly jolts, coming to a deadly hault.

Flying forward, Leslie slams into the dashboard, as well as Bette. Two airbags explode from within the board and the wheel, shooting them straight back up in their seats. Vicki remains shrivled up in a ball at her seat, holding tight onto her seatbelt.

The two women at the front groan, letting out moans of pain as the airbags deflate.

-Sorry for the rude introduction, ladies. The name's Black King, or as I prefer to be known as 'Mister Terrific'. I'll be your chauffeur for the day...So sit tight and enjoy the ride-

As the girls expect the car to move again, it simply begins to lower. The ground of the alleyway slowly opens up, revealing a dark underground tunnel, no lights, just a tunnel. "Holy cow...Hey, you, pass me my notebook! This is one for the papers...!"

Leslie carefully bends down beneath her seat, flicking her wrists and using her bolts of electricity as light. She grabs the notebook once finding it, chucking it back to Vicki.

Her eyes then focus on Bette, who's eyes glow with a red aura, an explosion taking place within her Iris. "Before you say 'told you so', in my defense, they are not killing us and they did call..."

Flicking her middle finger up right in the face of Leslie, Bette folds her arms, sliding back into her chair.
​

 

[Bounce]

"Anyway, what kind of people would we be if we could help and didn't? I understand that's the way you were raised, but it's not really the Earth way....well, for most of us it isn't. The point is, we're given these powers and abilities for a reason, and that reason is to help others. But, that's just my theory. I'm sure crazy-ass Batman would agree with the survival of the fittest stuff."

What kind of people indeed. Kryptonian. And human. Did they share anything in common?

If so, the alien child had yet to discover it. From what Lor had observed humans did their heroics from behind masks that concealed their identities, they professed to cherish even the most insignificant life, and they quickly stopped asking for help and began instead making demands for it. It appeared as though humans might readily allow another to do what they could have done for themselves.

What was the difference between service and servitude?

Perhaps Superman wanted to save this world, this Earth, but in so doing it seemed as though he were as much a servant as a savior. That was not the proper place for the son of Zod in this society or any like it. He was a warrior, as his father before him. He would serve none who had not earned it. In that respect, this experience of answering the call to fight the Starro had been a lesson for him.

These humans were weak. Insignificant even. The only point of interest remained the reason that Myxzptlk had brought him to this planet in the first place. A Kryptonian called Superman. Perhaps Lor-Zod was here so that he could remind this lost soul just what being of Krypton meant.

The boy couldn't imagine that Superman had anything to teach him.

The child gave Flash an empty smile, one that may have appeared sincere on the surface but wasn't reflected in the look of his eyes. Those were cold, eerily calculating and observing. The Flash was at least an amusing person to be around. He was also very fast, faster than Lor was at least and the teen had remarked that he was faster than Superman as well. But the teen was also as breakable as any human, something Lor had observed when the two had bumped fists. "You're afraid of the 'crazy-ass Batman'," the boy noted lightly, echoing the teen's own words as he decided to change the subject. He remembered how Flash had cowered behind Superman's broad shouldered figure when speaking to the one called Batman. Interesting that one of the Earth's 'heroes' would have so obvious a flaw.

The Flash could feel fear. A very human trait it seemed. Lor wondered if it was one that Superman had learned from the humans as well.

The child paused for a moment as it dawned on him that he wasn't familiar with some of the words that the Flash had used. "Hey, what does 'crazy-ass' mean anyway?"

 

[Catman_prb]

"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."

"Gotham Bridge, twenty minutes," Gordon said, hanging up the phone and rolling out of bed. Sarah looked at him with a frown.

"Hey, people need me baby," he said, kissing her on the forehead as he pulled on pants and a shirt and headed out of the door.

 

[Byrd Man]

The child gave Flash an empty smile, one that may have appeared sincere on the surface but wasn't reflected in the look of his eyes. Those were cold, eerily calculating and observing. The Flash was at least an amusing person to be around. He was also very fast, faster than Lor was at least and the teen had remarked that he was faster than Superman as well. But the teen was also as breakable as any human, something Lor had observed when the two had bumped fists. "You're afraid of the 'crazy-ass Batman'," the boy noted lightly, echoing the teen's own words as he decided to change the subject. He remembered how Flash had cowered behind Superman's broad shouldered figure when speaking to the one called Batman. Interesting that one of the Earth's 'heroes' would have so obvious a flaw.

The Flash could feel fear. A very human trait it seemed. Lor wondered if it was one that Superman had learned from the humans as well.

The child paused for a moment as it dawned on him that he wasn't familiar with some of the words that the Flash had used. "Hey, what does 'crazy-ass' mean anyway?"

"Heh. You must know much about Batman. Watch the news sometime, kid. Batman is borderline insane. He helps people and all, but doesn't let anything stand in his way. Word is he killed a cop, you know an officer of the law, sometime last year. I mean, I know I don't have much room to talk, but the dude has issues."

Turning away from Superboy, I go back to work racing through the city, using the thingy, yes I said thingy, to shock the Sta'rro out of people's systems.

 

[Byrd Man]

"Gotham Bridge, twenty minutes," Gordon said, hanging up the phone and rolling out of bed. Sarah looked at him with a frown.

"Hey, people need me baby," he said, kissing her on the forehead as he pulled on pants and a shirt and headed out of the door.

Twenty minutes later, headlights flash on my car. Jim Gordon chewing gun, sour look on his face. Get out the car, reaching for my cigs.

"Good evening, sir. Sorry about calling you up at this hour. Cigarette?"

Hold out the pack, Gordon remains silent.

"Maybe it's best if we get down to why I called you out here. I've got some heat on me right now, an IA guy who thinks his **** don't stink. He's so far up my ass that I can taste his aftershave everytime I burp. What's worse, he's not working with the GCPD in this investigation into my career. No, he's working with the DA and I need leverage on him...who better to help me with that than James Gordon, the commish himself."

 

[Bounce]

"Heh. You must know much about Batman. Watch the news sometime, kid. Batman is borderline insane. He helps people and all, but doesn't let anything stand in his way. Word is he killed a cop, you know an officer of the law, sometime last year. I mean, I know I don't have much room to talk, but the dude has issues."

Turning away from Superboy, I go back to work racing through the city, using the thingy, yes I said thingy, to shock the Sta'rro out of people's systems.

The young Kryptonian simply watched, silent, as the Flash became a blur that faded from view. With his unique hearing, he was aware of some of what the teen was up to. Whispers on the wind as people 'woke' from the waking nightmare of the creature's control. The boy now understood things a little better. The Flash played the hero because he could. Was it really heroic then? Or was the teenager just showing off?

The Batman, at least for how Flash had described him, sounded almost respectable. Of course the man would brazenly kill anyone in his way, he did his deeds from behind a mask. Hardly honorable, but at least the Flash made it sound as though the Batman didn't allow anything to stand in his way. Even if he was too much of a coward to show his face while doing it.

So where did that leave Lor? The child looked down at the transmitter in his hands and then glanced up to stare at the empty air where the Flash had stood. Turning his head, the boy stared over his shoulder up at the STAR Labs building behind him.

The Atom had ordered him to save the world.

The Flash had told him that he had a responsibility to act because it was within his power.

Lifting off of the ground, the sandy-haired youth ascended into the air like an angel rising to the throne of the All Mighty. When he again arrived at that point where sky intersected space in a slowly tapered sea of blue that trickled out to infinity, the child looked down at the Earth upon which he now stood like one of the young gods of Olympus. And there the son of Zod considered what the heroes had told him.

And he answered... NO.

The boy's hand closed around the transmitter, shattering the device and sending its broken components out into the space around the planet. Stepping off of the celestial pedestal, the boy stood out against the naked light of the Earth's sun and felt himself burn as though alive for the first time.

Superman might have turned cape and run, but Lor knew there was only challenge worthy of a child of Krypton - a child of Zod - and that wasn't the asinine task of saving the meaningless lives that constituted humanity. If their planet was worthy of survival, then it would see to its own salvation.

Lor only wanted a piece of Sta'rro. And this for himself, a test of his warrior blood undertaken for its own reward. Not any one else's.

Like a shooting star, the child barreled through the air to the place where he had first felt the darkness that lived in space, the seat among the stars where the Martian Manhunter had shown them the Sta'rro existed. In the far distance, he could make out the two forms that remained in combat with the creature. Arms stretched out in front of him, the boy extended himself out like a cosmic bullet as he accelerated faster and faster toward the creature.

The boy struck the creature in one of its extremities, a tendril that had been moving to strike the Manhunter. Its flesh gave until the force of the impact and, as he erupted on the other side, the youth rotated around to face his opponent. The way in which it now writhed, retracting the tendril back, was evidence of the beast's silent scream in pain.

The blood now floating in amorphous orbs around him was a testament to the fact that he was not Superman. He was Superboy. And it appeared that he had just drawn first blood.

Almost immediately, the globules of blood were drawn back to beast as the wound closed before the child's eyes. But though the evidence of his attack was gone, the victory he'd sought had been won. This creature could be made to feel pain. Excellent.

Before the sun set on the Earth, the son of Zod would show this creature more of it.

 

[Saved]

"Yeah, I am."

BLAM!

The gun goes off in my hands, striking one of the would-be attackers in the shoulder, he recoils from the shot and holds his shoulder in pain, not going down. I turn to Hood and shrug. "Rubber bullets. Not lethal, but it hurts like a mother****er."

The gunshot proves to be the catalyst they need, the two healthy attackers pouncing on Hood while the one injured one goes after me.

One of the thugs charges Jason, throwing his fist forward in a punch. Jason grabs the man by the wrist and twists his arm backward, simultaneously thrusting his knee into the man's sternum. As he makes short work of the thug, the second takes advantage and delivers a powerful punch to the Red Hood's stomach. Jason ducks down, clutching his stomach as his diaphragm sends a spasm throughout his torso.

The thug reaches into his jacket and pulls out a switchblade. As the sharp knife slips throughthe hilt, the sound of clanking metal echoes throughout the alley. Pulling his arm back, the man prepares to stab the Red Hood. Recovering from the punch, Jason catches a glimpse of the knife out of the corner of his eye. With just enough time to react, Jason steps backward, allowing the blade to move easily past his body. Jason grabs the man's arm just above and below the elbow. With a loud 'snap', he bends the thug's arm in the opposite direction, shattering the bones and joints. The man let's out a loud cry as tears well up in his eyes from the pain. Before he can take another breath, Jason silences the man by slamming his head against the adjacent wall. The thug's body limply drops to the ground, falling in a motionless heap.

"Ha," Jason grins - proud of his work. Catching him off guard, the first thug recovers and rises from the ground. He grabs Jason by his injured arm, causing him to let out a loud shout in agony. Reacting only by instinct, Jason slams the heel of his boot down on the man's foot. As the man let's go of the Red Hood's arm, Jason throws his elbow back into the man's neck - knocking him unconscious.

In a slew of curses Jason growls in pain, massaging the sensitive skin of his arm as he tries to dull the pain.

Shifting his attention, Jason turns toward the Question. "You alright?" Jason shouts checking to see how well his ally is fairing.

 

[Byrd Man]

In a slew of curses Jason growls in pain, massaging the sensitive skin of his arm as he tries to dull the pain.

Shifting his attention, Jason turns toward the Question. "You alright?" Jason shouts checking to see how well his ally is fairing.

"Yeah! I'm fine!"

WHAM!

My one attacker catches me flush on the jaw with his fist and I slam up against my car.

"How can you punch so hard with a bullet hole in your shoulder for God's sake?!"

"Shut up!"

The wounded crook crabs me by my lapel and yanks me forward, laying into my stomach with a few punches. I struggle against his grip and finally find his weak spot, sticking my finger into his bullet wound.

"Yaaa!" He screams out in pain, collapsing to his knees. I keep digging into his wound until he's down on his knees and weeping.

"Yeah," I shout over to Hood. "I'm good. I take it these guys didn't follow us on their own accord, they were hired. I found this guys soft spot, wanna take a crack at finding out what he knows?"