The Ultimate DC RPG - Season III

Discussion in 'RPG Archives' started by UltimateRPGs, Nov 10, 2011.

  1. UltimateRPGs

    UltimateRPGs Overseer of Ultimate

    Feb 4, 2008
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    .Dedicated to all of those who've come before - and all who will follow.



    - - -

    . Gamemasters & Staff .

    Batman - Founder, Gamemaster (Our Goat Snuggler)
    Byrd Man - Co-Gamemaster (Our Whip Cracker)
    Andy C. - Assistant Gamemaster (Our Little Richard)

    . How To Play .

    This RPG is based off of a player-created continuity dealing with a modern revision of the DC Universe, similar to Marvel's Ultimate imprint. Outside of the above, and what the players themselves create, there is no pre-established continuity. As players, it will be your job to take the basic ideas and characters of the DCU, and accordingly reinvent them into however you see fit. Though it is your choice of how drastic the alterations should be, you are free to customize everything from a character's origin to motivations, identity, mannerisms, costume, powers, and world. Let your imagination run wild.

    To apply for a character, fill out the application supplied below. If your application is rejected, do not despair! Simply rework what the Gamemasters tell you is wrong with it, or in the case of multi-applications, choose another character. All players are welcome, regardless of membership status or postcount.

    . 12 Rules To Play By .
  2. Batman

    Batman Dramatic Example

    Oct 1, 2003
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    IC: Alfred Jarvis

    I cannot feel but a single chill that runs through me.

    In a span of just a few short hours, it seems as though my entire world has collasped.

    Broken glass aligns the floors beneath my feet. Priceless paintings and maquettes imported from Italy and Spain, all inherited from the previous owner's bequest, are now scattered across the halls, torn and broken and stained with the fresh blood of the two men whose struggle has wrecked havoc upon his home. Our home, perhaps I should say, after the years that I have devoted time and energy towards the matinence of it - years that have now amounted all for naught. Of course it is a minimal consideration, given what has happened, but I suppose it is true that there are some things we all take for granted when they are stolen from us. And knowing that the next few hours of my life are likely to bring about grave developments, knowing that it is all the start of a long road ahead, I suppose that I can safely admit that to myself.

    I had taken it all for granted.

    Bruce Wayne - my employer, and my friend - is missing. The last I saw of him was a mere few hours ago. I was barely conscious and quite incapable of determining the situation at hand, but I had managed to still watch as a large behemoth of a man tossed him through the balcony window. I heard sounds echoing from outside, sounds that I had never heard the likes of which in my entire life. And hopefully will never hear again. I could hear Mr. Wayne trying his best to keep up with the grueling circumstances that were overwhelming him, but then I heard nothing. Silence. A few taudry footsteps and the rattle of the front door.

    To my horror, it wasn't Bruce that was still standing. It was him, the man in the mask that conveyed a blank, emotionless, perhaps even monstrous expression. I watched him, still on the floor and still clinging to my sense of awareness, as he slowly treaded through the penthouse and made his escape. Part of me still hoped it was because he feared a retaliation from Mr. Wayne's second wind. But as I heard nothing more than the continued silence, I began to legitimately grow concerned. There was no second wind. There was simply a struggle that ended with one man walking away, and the other...

    Needless to say, I had to find him. But by the time I could stand, not long after I remember the face of young Richard there to greet me as I was still sprawled across the floor of in the study, I realized something even more chilling than the possibility of what lied on the other side of the balcony - I realized there might not be anything there. And I was right. I have combed through every inch, every crevace of this penthouse that I still confidently know by heart, and found no trace of my employer. Not even a bloodstained shred of that damndable outfit.

    Even after the police arrived, and I was forced to give them the cover story that we were ambushed by several hoodlums that attacked and ransacked the penthouse in the midst of their robbery, I knew that I could not simply wait for the slim chance of his return. I had to do something, anything, to quell my strengthening fears.

    "Oracle. I don't know if you're... Can you hear me?"

    Voice Recognition Activated. Scanning.
    Voice Recognized As - Jarvis, Alfred. Authorized Secondary User Of The Oracle.

    Welcome, Mr. Jarvis. How May I Assist You?

    It speaks through the walls. Bloody brilliant.

    I have never understood this program. Nor will I pretend to know how it works, or even how it functions. But I know of at least one thing it can definitely do.

    And that is find Batman. Wherever he may be.

    "Find him,"

    The chill falls back into my spine, as I finally collapse into the chair behind me.

    "Find him before it is too late."

    Wherever you are, Bruce, I beg of you.

    Hang onto whatever life remains.
  3. Byrd Man

    Byrd Man El Hombre Pájaro

    May 25, 2006
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    Undisclosed Location


    That's my world now. Darkness inside this tiny and damp cell I've called my home now for....a week?

    A month?

    A year?

    I make marks in the wall with my fingernails after they bring me back from my interrogation/beating. I assume each session is once a day. For all I know, it's once a week. My face has a decent beard, but that's no clear indication of how much time has passed. I run my hands across the marks and try to count them. I lose count after forty-five.

    The door into my cell swings open. The dim light coming from the corridor is enough to hurt my eyes. I shield my eyes with my hand and feel two pairs of rough hands grab me by the shoulders and drag me from the cell. A few minutes later, they prop me up in a wooden chair across from my interrogator. He's someone important, the medals on his outfit tell me that much. Maybe he's a lieutenant colonel like me. Maybe he's something higher.

    "Hello, my American friend," he says in a pleasant tone. "Still nothing to say?"

    The interrogator lights up a cigar and takes a long drag off of it before blowing the smoke in my face.

    "Do you know what insanity is? Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, yet expecting a different result. This is why you are insane. You refuse to talk, even though my men beat you and barely keep you fed. We know you are an American, even though your government refuses to acknowledge your existence. You won't tell us why you and your friends came to our country, killed our countrymen, and destroyed a facility we were protecting. You take beatings and refuse to talk. Every time you expect it to be different, but it is not. You, my friend, are insane...or maybe it is I that is the insane one. I expect you to talk, but yet you don't. No matter what I do."

    The interrogator leans in and whispers into my ear.

    "Those marks on the wall? I have my men come in every time you are pulled out of your cell and change the marks."

    That's when I snap. I let out a scream and use all the strength I have to tackle the interrogator and drive him to the ground, getting one good punch in before his men pull me off of him. The men begin to punch me in the stomach, chest, and kick me as I fall to the ground. I feel one of my ribs break and the wind gets knocked out of me.

    "Enough," the interrogator says.

    My head is swimming and I'm on the verge of passing out. The men pick me back up and place me back on the wooden chair. The interrogator sits down and looks at me calmly.

    "Tell you know what insanity is?"


    150 Miles East
    Kaduna, Nigeria

    The black man got out of his jeep and adjusted the jacket he was wearing. He glanced over to his right. There was a darkened doorway halfway down the block. The man strolled down the street observing the people he passed. Kaduna was the headquarters of the Islamic rebels who were currently advancing south to Nigeria's capital, Abuja, and the primarily Christian government there.

    He checked his watch and ducked into a side alley were a man in military dress was waiting for him.

    "You're late."

    "Sorry, gov," the man said in a British accent. "Thought I had a tail. Needed to shake it."

    "Right. Where is your product?"

    "Nearby where's my money?"


    "Is it the amount we agreed on?"

    "Six million pounds. And the product?"

    "Six ounces of depleted uranium just as you asked."

    Suddenly a jeep pulled up and blocked the alleyway. Soldiers jumped out of the jeep and pointed assault rifles at the British man.

    "Don't move," his contact said. The military man pushed him against the wall and began searching through his pockets. "We know who you are and what games you pull. You are a con man. There is no depleted uranium!"

    The soldiers pulled the man off the wall and shoved him in the jeep.

    "Take him to the prison!" Their officer barked. "We will straighten him out there!"

    The jeep's driver shoved it into gear and sped off down the street with the British man inside. The officer walked back down the alley to his car and drove off.

    A few minutes later, a woman wearing a burqa stepped out of the same doorway the British man had looked into earlier. She surveyed the scene before speaking into the device on her wrist.

    "Nightshade to Waller. Phase 1 is complete. Operation: Raise the Flag is a go."
    Last edited: Nov 10, 2011
  4. Bounce

    Bounce Guest

    Likes Received:
    ...previously, in the Ultimate DC RPG...
    Something amazing had happened. The child stared in awe at his hands, amazed not at their being but rather the fact that they were no longer transparent. He was physical... flesh... corporeal existance. The sensation of having his feet rooted to the ground by gravity, the weight of his body, the ebb and flow of breath in his lungs, the beating of an organ in his chest were all new experiences for him. There was a place in the Phantom Zone where physical manifestation was possible for a time, but Lor had never been there. At least, not to his knowledge. One of father's soldiers had once made the comment that Lor had been made there, but the child didn't understand his meaning. The soldier was no longer with them either. Father had said that the soldier's loyalty had failed.

    Fealty and service were rewarded by father's just rule. Failure only undermined father's authority and that was unacceptable. Father was a great man to give so much and ask so little, and so simple a thing, in return. For his greatness, loyalty was the least of what was owed General Zod.

    The young boy wasn't alone in his struggle to comprehend the nature of the corporeal existence that had been spontaniously thrust upon him. Beside him, Krypto huffed and whined while turning circles and nipping at the limbs where seemed so awkward in comparison to phantom grace. As the child reached out to comfort the animal, he discovered the physical sensation of touch. He could feel the animal's fur, the soft tufts brushing against the palm of his hand, and the individual hairs jutting between his fingers. The concepts had existed in the Phantom Zone, but this was tangible. This was real.

    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
    "Children have rights, damn it. This country signed a treaty about those rights," Dabney shouted, a little more forcefully than he'd intended. "Yet here you all are talking about experimenting on a little boy!"

    "No, it isn't."

    The voice was heavy, jaded and weary as the voice of one who had learned to talk over artillery fire in dark places where angels feared to tread. Dabney turned his attention to the side of the table that had spoken only to find himself facing a civilian official with Homeland Security. "You're not a medical doctor so allow me to give you a little education about that Geneva Convention on the Rights of a Child. Don't feel bad though, Doctor Donovan, our legal folks here at the Pentagon had to educate me," the man went on to say, before turning to give a nod of his head toward one of the Navy lawyers seated just a few chairs down. "Bob, why don't you explain for us."

    "Doctor Donovan, strictly speaking, a 'boy' is an under-developed male human. According to your report, Superboy is an extraterrestrial. Now, legally speaking, one is either a human or an animal. The law makes no distinction or allowance for a non-human sentient being. So for the purposes of our discussion, can we agree that Superboy is not human, doctor?"

    Donovan's mouth went dry, his face flush at having his own report quoted at him. Let alone out of context. "That's an unfair comparison. Human beings are animals, sir."

    "I'm asking you whether your report is accurate, doctor," the Navy officer stated crisply. "Is Superboy human or not?"

    Donovan just held the man's gaze for a long moment. "He is not," he said finally.

    Clearing his throat, the civilian official from Homeland Security spoke up again. "Superman is the greatest hero known to man. And he has the potential to be the end of the world. Now my job isn't to know what's inside the bastard's head, only to be prepared for a contingency we'd all rather not think about," the man explained nonchalantly, pausing to look over at the monitors before turning his attention back to Donovan. "We need weapons that are effective against Superman, it's as simple as that. So you can call it what you like, but legally speaking this is animal testing."

    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    "So what's your game?"

    It was Dabney's voice. With his hearing, Lor could still hear the conversation inside of the plane. He could hear the anger and bitterness in the man's voice. He was upset, not just at the woman but he wasn't happy with her either.

    "Are you sure you want to know? I mean, it's obvious now that you have no idea just how the game is played," the woman answered calmly. Lor was beginning to get the message that whatever was going on, Miss Fionna was in charge.

    "Let's start with where we're going. That's the eastern seaboard below us, but we're headed south. Metropolis is north of DC, Miss Ross."

    The comment was the first time that Lor had realized there was an ocean beneath them. But it was on their left when it should have been on their right. And the climate was warmer than either Washington or Metropolis. Dropping several hundred feet in mere moments, the young Superboy skimmed along the surface of the Atlantic as he continued to listen in on the adult's conversation.

    "Don't you know? It was your suggestion, Doctor Donovan. We're going to Sweet Home Alabama, home of the U.S. Space Camp."


    "Because I can, and because you obviously don't know what you're doing. You wanted the United States government to endorse a metahuman and had absolutely no idea what politics would be involved. Superman gives the entire Joint Chiefs of Staff penis envy. He's the soldier they dream of being."

    That comment almost stopped Lor dead in the air. "Superman? A soldier?" the boy uttered, before breaking out in a giggly-laugh. Superman was barely adequate as Kryptonians went. He'd have never made it in Dru-Zod's army, of that Lor was certain. If humans thought that Superman was a soldier, and were scared of that, then General Dru-Zod would more than terrify them.

    "No, I mean... why are you doing this?"

    "The Department of Metahuman Affairs has a lot of interest in keeping the growing population of metahumans in check. Registration, for example. It might be repulsive that we want to treat Superboy and others like him as though they were sex offenders, but its in the public interest to know who and where these people are, and what they can do. Congress hasn't bought off on the registration idea yet though."

    Lor began to slow down, trailing behind the chair as he nervously grabbed a hold of his t-shirt and fidgeted slightly. He wasn't really understanding the conversation, but he didn't like the way that Miss Fionna talked about him.

    "But using a child for animal testing to develop some kind of silver bullet to bring down Superman? If anything the DMA has a vested interest in preventing that from happening."

    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    “So Superboy was revealed recently at a press conference as the person responsible for the rescue of Space Shuttle Excalibur, as well as Astronaut Micah Flint…” Robin Roberts began, consulting her notes for a moment, pausing a second before she then added, “…who was later killed by Superboy, would you care to elaborate on that, doctor?”

    Dabney reached a hand up to adjust the collar that seemed to be tightening around his neck. Clearing his throat a second time, Donovan paused to take a sip of water from a nearby glass before responding. “Lieutenant Flint unfortunately suffered some kind of physical mutation as a result of exposure to whatever radiation caused the failure of the space shuttle.” A handkerchief came out to dab the sweat beading on Donovan’s brow. What people said about those studio lights were true, he was in ‘the hot seat’. Wetting his lips, Dabney added, “He was obviously in a great deal of pain and we believe it drove him mad. He nearly destroyed our entire facility at Pike Island, and likely would have killed a number of personnel had Superboy not stopped him.”

    “Most recently Superboy and Superman together rescued Daily Planet reporter Cat Grant. Can you tell us what’s next for Superboy, doctor?”

    “He’ll actually be traveling to the International Space Station this afternoon,” Donovan remarked, relaxing once more as he again put forth his best smile for the camera. “As you know, the Space Shuttle Daedalus is there now completing the mission originally assigned to Excalibur, which included some repairs. An additional component piece was identified as in need of replacement that we hadn’t planned on, so he’ll be delivering that.”

    Laying her notes aside for a moment, Roberts looked directly at Donovan and asked, “With the planned retirement of the space shuttle program, do you see Superboy as a possible alternative for deliveries to the space station?”

    “Superboy’s ability to traverse our atmosphere at all levels gives us flexibility in responding to the needs of the international space station, or our other space experiments, that the space shuttle program does not.”

    “I see,” Robin answered, falling quiet for a moment before she leaned forward and said, “So, doctor, would it be fair to say that Project Superboy is the planned exploitation of a child by the United States government?”

    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    “That’s it,” Oz declared firmly.

    “That’s what?”

    Turning, Oz jabbed a finger directly toward the television. “That’s the solution.”

    “But, we’ve already covered astronauts…”

    “No. Superboy,” the man stated, a slow grin forming as an idea began solidifying in his mind. Pulling out his WayneBerry, the man quickly scrolled to the internet as he continued on, “Think about it! Every kid wants to be Superman, right? That kid is Superman. He’s a marketing cash cow and NASA knows it, too. Look, it’s right here on their web page. ‘Superboy to answer questions by Twitter from the International Space Station,’” Oz remarked, holding out the Twitter announcement so that the accountant could see it for himself.

    “So what do you want to do? Get NASA to sponsor us?”

    “We just need to become the show that Superboy watches,” Oz said with a Cheshire grin. “If other kids know that Superboy watches the Uncle Oswald Show, they’ll watch too.”
    ...and now, the continuation...
    Metropolis, Massachusetts
    October 30, 2011

    It was an evening of heroes and demons, witches and the bizarre. A colorful parade of princesses and fairies as children roamed the neighborhoods of Metropolis’ residential boroughs in costumed pursuit of candy in the annual tradition of Halloween in America. Icons of the screen, the comics, and video games were represented. Naruto Uzimaki. Mario and Princess Peach. But the undisputed icon of the night was the Man of Tomorrow, as an outpouring of Supermen passed each other on the streets of Metropolis.

    Not the least of which was Superman’s self-professed biggest fan, Adam Grant, who was – much to Lor-Zod’s chagrin – decked out in a Superman costume so studiously fashioned that his mother had even dyed the boy’s blond hair black to better fit the image of his idol.

    Lor probably would have simply gone as himself, having little interest in the human superstitions of spirits and All Hallows Eve; but the event that was trick or treating had a particular interest for the young Kryptonian. It was, in essence, a human holiday of celebrating free candy and playing make believe. That was certainly a concept which the son of Zod could get behind.

    For starters, he liked candy.

    Second of all, he liked playing make believe.

    It was a win-win situation for the Kryptonian third grader, so he reluctantly bowed to the norms and expectations of human society for this one event in their calendar. He even thought that his costume was rather original, not to mention superior, compared to the multitude of clones venerating the son of Jor-El. And it should be, for Lor-Zod had waged a mighty campaign of whining and temper tantrums in order to get Dabney to help him assemble his outfit. Apparently the NASA marketing folks had thought that putting Lor-Zod in a Superman suit would have made for good publicity.

    The son of Zod respectfully disagreed.

    The mantle that their Superboy had chosen to don instead had been cause to cancel the press conference and photo shoot, which was really a demonstration of Pike Island’s own geo-political myopia which sought to tie Superman and Superboy to Metropolis exclusively. Were Lor-Zod in Keystone City then the reaction might have been different.

    Decked from head to toe in a costume of bright red, accented with golden lightning bolts, Lor-Zod had adopted the identity of the Flash. And, if anyone would have asked for his professional opinion as the son of the General, Lor would have said that the human speedster was likely twice the hero that the son of Jor-El was.

    For starters, the Flash wasn’t the son of Jor-El. That was always a plus.

    Still, it seemed as though Lor was inextricably bound to the symbol and icon that Kal-El had made for himself in this place, as he traveled from house to house with Adam Grant-Superman at his side. In what was becoming the ritual of their evening, the ring of the doorbell and the announcement of the trick or treat brought with it the adoration of the woman who answered the door and looked upon Super Adam with the words, “Oh, what an adorable Superman!”

    And so she gifted said Superman with a full sized Hershey bar. A most generous gift, considering how much of Lor-Zod’s pillowcase was candy corn and fun-sized chocolate bits. Holding open his pillowcase in anticipation of his own reward, the bright-eyed last son of Krypton beamed at the woman.

    Adjusting her glasses, the candy gifter looked the red-garbed child over from head to toe. And then she asked, “And who are you supposed to be, dear?”

    The Kryptonian lowered his pillowcase, a look of royal indignation crossing his face – not the least due to Adam’s burst of giggling at yet another person failing to recognize Lor-Zod’s favorite hero.

    Superman sucked.

    * * * * * * * * * * * *:super: * * * * * * * * * * * *​
    Outskirts of Houston, Texas

    A lone man stood out against the ridgeline, silhouetted like the Marlboro man as the modern rough rider enjoyed the change of the seasons with a cigarette as he looked back over the trail which he and his fellow campers had made their way along in what had become an unexpected drought at the end of Autumn. Warm breezes still cut across the Texas climate, which had become uncharacteristically arid in the last month. Dry leaves crackled under foot, while twigs made quick tender for the fire.

    Behind him, he could make out the call of his fellow travelers to move on. He brought the cigarette to his lips for a final drag.

    The careless flick of the cigarette, a gesture taken without thought as to action, effect, or consequence. The lit remains flitting through the air for a brief moment before landing amid the dry leaves which layered the sides of the trail from under the parched trees.

    Smoke wisped out from under the brush where the cigarette had fallen, unseen as the campers left the trail…

    * * * * * * * * * * * *:super: * * * * * * * * * * * *​
    National Aeronautics & Space Administration
    Project SUPERBOY Headquarters
    Pike Island Research Facility, Metropolis

    Despite what he might have tried to impress upon people, Dabney Donovan had never been alone in his care of the boy that had been dubbed ‘Superboy’. Albert Michaels had been a steadfast supporter in the early days, withdrawing only when pressure from the Pentagon had grown so overwhelming as to threaten the men with removal to Guantanamo Bay. Fionna Ross of the Department of Metahuman Affairs had swept in and effectively rescued both Superboy and Donovan, fielding the political pressures from the Defense Department while controlling many of the administrative aspects which Donovan simply had no interest in involving himself – such as Superboy’s school registration.

    But now Donovan had an actual staff for the project that was centered on one little boy, his own entourage of research interns trained in a diverse array of specialty fields – from child psychology to organic chemistry. The bank of interns thinned out during the graveyard shift, whose responsibilities amounted to little more than gathering questionably useful data related to monitoring the child's sleep patterns.

    Across monitors in the room, different observational viewpoints captured the brown-haired youth, curled up as he was with the sizable canine that shared his pillow. It was a life under a microscope. One that even the researchers had to question for how long they would be able to sustain such an intrusion into daily life. An eight year old's sense of privacy was slim, a teenagers far more of a bulwark. The next couple of years would likely see the Superboy rebel against those who would peer into the minuscule facets of his life.

    But for now, it was a welcome intrusion that woke him up, made certain he got dressed and had breakfast, brushed his teeth and got ready for school.

    "Another wildfire in Texas this evening, this time outside the highly populous Greater Houston area. Support has been brought in from neighboring areas and Governor Perry is considering activating the national guard to respond..."

    Seated in the lounge, sipping at his cup of coffee, Dabney Donovan looked over an appealing array of options. Requests for research assistance from institutions of renown. Requests for assistance from Superboy, some from within NASA itself. The boy was more popular than the space shuttle orbiters had been, and could haul just about the same amount of cargo. Then there were requests for appearances by Superboy...

    From the Uncle Oswald Show? A children's television program?

    That was... different. Had someone else figured out just what a cash cow the boy could be?

    Donovan made a note of the number to call later. If he was right, he wondered what his cut would be...

    * * * * * * * * * * * *:super: * * * * * * * * * * * *​
    Outskirts of Houston, Texas

    A helicopter roared overhead, as a loud rush of water rained down upon the once rustic woodland trail now choked by thick smoke. The battle had been long and ferocious in its intensity, the fire having blazed so far out of control as to force the evacuation of nearby communities. But it was a battle that the people were at last winning.

    The fire chief removed his helmet, the whole of his face blackened with soot and ash, smeared across the back of his hand as he made a futile effort to mop the sweat from his brow, and looked out to a land of devastation. And knew that it could have been worse.

    Through a forest of smoke, the evidence of their efforts was not immediately visible, but the fact that the fire was no longer spreading told the fire fighters and the forest service that the tide of battle had turned. Now contained, it would only be a matter of time before the fire burned itself out.



    The last smoldering flame crept along the soggy earth, like a dying man trying to crawl away from the grave, when it seemed to suddenly die a phoenix’s death. The red-orange flame flickered.

    And then the flame turned blue.

    The explosion followed just seconds later.
    Last edited: Nov 10, 2011
  5. Andy C.

    Andy C. Repent, Harlequin!

    Mar 1, 2006
    Likes Received:
    Classified Cadmus laboratory
    Six days ago

    "Genius is rarely appreciated in its time," said a bearded man in a high-collared black uniform and flowing cloak, as he inspected the scientist's work. "Can you really tell me you're satisfied with the work they have you doing here?"

    "I happen to rather like my work," the scrawny scientist with slicked-back red hair said defensively, snatching a cybernetic limb from the black-bearded man's hands before he could damage it. "I get to build whatever I want, and my employers find all sorts of useful purposes for them."

    "But never their intended purpose, am I right?" He said, seeing the scientist in the sweater-vest and bow tie shrink a little at the response. "Cadmus keeps you locked up here, building toys for them, to keep you from realizing your full potential. These robots of yours are absolutely incredible; with enough of them, you could overrun entire nations. But you already know that, don't you?"

    The red-haired man squirmed uncomfortably.

    "It's all right; your intelligence makes you powerful. It's only natural to want to use that power to your advantage. I am here to facilitate that. Join me, and I'll make sure you get the recognition you well as finding a certain 'prodigal son' that your employers have neglected to locate...."

    Professor Anthony Ivo's ears pricked up.

    "So....what do you propose?"

    Stryker's Island, Super-Max Security Wing
    Five days ago

    "....more money than you've ever imagined in your life. On top of that, we may be able to do something about that condition of yours....

    Joseph Martin looked at his hands, how they pulsed a sickly green, how the flesh had become so translucent that one could see straight through to the bone. He clenched his fists, and they erupted into glowing green flames.

    "Actually," the Atomic Skull said, "I think I'm startin' to like being this way. Now, about that money...."

    Belle Reve Metahuman Penitentiary
    Four days ago

    "I know you're not the type who cares for money and power, despite the fact that you'll have plenty of both if you sign on with me."

    Crystal Frost grunted, uninterested, as she waited for the man who had mysteriously appeared in her cell to get to the point.

    "What might interest you, though, is your freedom. Not only your freedom, but a carte blanche to do whatever you want...kill whomever you want. Men, women, children, doctors, lawyers, police officers.....even super-heroes."

    The deathly pale blue-skinned woman sat up in her bed, a sadistic gleam in her eye.

    "Now you're speaking my language...." said Killer Frost eagerly.

    Olympus Hotel and Casino, Gotham City
    Three days ago

    In the VIP room of one of Gotham's most expensive resorts, the man in black eyed another bearded man, the lapels of his immaculate three-piece suit cut to resemble the zig-zag shape of lightning bolts. Upon shaking his hand, he saw that the man's cufflinks bore the same logo.

    "Modesty does not suit men like us," he began. "Although, heightened and superior beings as we are, we could hardly be called 'men,' isn't that right?"

    "I'm afraid I don't follow, my good fellow," the casino's owner said as he dealt the next hand.

    "Of course you do. You know as well as I do why once a week, the local power grid undergoes mysterious fluctuations. And what exactly becomes of those unfortunate escorts who go missing those same nights. It's perfectly natural for a god to demand human sacrifice. I think it's time the mortals became a little more reverent towards their betters, don't you?"

    Maxie Zeus glared at this newcomer, then folded.

    "Perhaps we should discuss this more privately...."

    Undisclosed CIA detention facility
    Two days ago

    The man in black strolled casually through the hallways of the facility as alarms blared; he knew there was no one in the building in any condition to respond. That would give him plenty of time to chat with his next acquisition.

    She lay in bed lazily, her skin covered in a coat of spotted fur. Despite all the chaos, she seemed unaffected by it as the man approached.

    "So...." the Cheetah asked as if she had been waiting for this visitor all along. "How is Wonder Woman these days?"

    "Let's find out ourselves, shall we?"

    Slaughter Swamp, outskirts of Gotham City
    One day ago

    "I know you're out here," the man in black said, addressing the stinking bog. "There is no need to hide yourself from anyone, least of all me."

    Out of the impenetrably thick fog, a massive figure lumbered toward him. Piercing yellow eyes stabbed through the mist as the gigantic creature lurched forward.

    "....Christened on Tuesday.......married on Wednesday....." the monster chanted in a voice that sounded like boulders scraping together.

    "Ah, there you are," the man said happily. "Allow me to introduce myself....."

    The United Nations Headquarters, New York City

    "And that is why, with continued cooperation and solidarity, we will overcome this crisis," stated the Secretary General, a middle-aged Korean man with graying temples, receiving a round of applause from the crowd of delegates. "We would like to thank the American President for his generosity, and to our colleagues in the World Bank for brokering the deal, which will......"

    The Secretary General paused for a moment, a hand going to his chest as if he were suffering indigestion.

    "...which will....usher in...a era....." he tried to continue, before beginning to shudder violently.

    Murmurs of concern turned into shouts of panic as the Secretary General's skin began to go deathly pale. The man's limbs stiffened and seemed to freeze in place, to the point where he could not even fall over. Tears streaming down from his eyes actually became solid icicles, and a layer of frost grew on the man's skin, the room resounding with a crackling sound as all of his joints and veins and sinews seized up, the man completely frozen solid from the inside.

    Security personnel rushed towards the frozen world leader, but were intercepted by a blur of orange, zipping past them impossibly fast, and leaving a spray of red mist as the guards fell, with throats slashed and limbs severed. Delegates that ran for the doors were engulfed in pale green fire that left piles of charred bones where they stood, and arcs of lightning that sent them convulsing to the floor in cardiac arrest.

    A terrifyingly large man stepped onto the dais and with one swing of his fist, shattered the Secretary General. Amidst the chaos, a bearded man in a black suit walked up to the now-unoccupied podium, and began to speak.

    "Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to return to your seats," he said in a calm, patronizing voice. "Return to your seats now, or we will simply kill everyone in the room."

    The clamor in the General Assembly Hall died almost immediately, and the horrified delegates of the United Nations slowly, cautiously, returned to their seats.

    "Very good," the man said, satisfied. "My name is Vandal Savage-- those of you whose countries are important enough to have historical files kept far away from the public will no doubt find mention of me in there. I come bearing a message to the world's leaders."

    He looked out among the cowering ambassadors and politicians, and sneered.

    "I don't mean you, of course. You and your kind are no longer relevant. I speak of the world's true leaders now. Superman. Wonder Woman. The Flash. All of the other members of the 'Justice League.' They are the ones who control the course of human events from here on, though they may not admit or even realize it yet. You lot of sniveling worms made yourselves obsolete the second you allowed these costumed freaks to solve your problems for you.

    "But never fear, for my colleagues and I are here to remove the benevolent fascism of the Justice League. We are here to destabilize the current world order, to topple the meaningless structures you have erected, to force you to adapt and become better, or die in the process. Only the fittest survive, and those too weak or incompetent to hold their own must and will be destroyed."

    Savage looked down at the crushed shards of the Secretary General.

    "This man was responsible for ******ing the process of natural selection. He proposed a deal in which the United States, already suffering from its own economic woes, would lend eight hundred billion dollars to bail out the failing economies of the European Union. Unfortunately, that money will never reach its intended destination, as it has been intercepted and, frankly, stolen. By us."

    A red-haired man with a sweater vest and bow-tie took a bow at the mention of this heist, while a trio of robotic monkeys chattered and howled in celebration around him.

    "To any members of the Justice League watching this, know that this is only the beginning," said Vandal Savage, his tone now serious. "We are here to bring down the status quo that stunts and denies true human potential. We are here to burn its icons, to sack its temples, and to drag its saviors through the mud. We are here, specifically, to kill you."

    The other six super-powered killers took their place on the dais behind Savage, and he grinned.

    "We are the Legion of Doom. And we hereby declare war against you all."

    With that, Professor Ivo entered a command into a small hand-held device, and the seven blinked away in a flash of light, leaving carnage in their wake.
    Last edited: Nov 10, 2011
  6. Byrd Man

    Byrd Man El Hombre Pájaro

    May 25, 2006
    Likes Received:

    Keystone City, Kansas

    I walk out the Keystone City PD and head down the stairs towards my car. They're looking for a forensic lab tech, so I put in an application for it. Dad said he knows a guy here, Captain Frye or something, and he'll help me by putting in a good word. Hopefully I'll hear something soon.

    I'm halfway to my car when my cellphone rings. I sigh as I look at the caller ID.

    Incoming Call: GL

    It totally slipped my mind that today was the day.


    "Where the hell are you, kid? I've been waiting for a half hour now."

    "Calm down, I'll be right there."

    "You bet-"

    Metropolis, Massachusetts


    I come to a stop in front of Green Lantern, all decked out in my Flash gear and ready to go.

    "Told you I would be right there."

    "Show off. So, are we ready to get going?"

    "Yeah Just one thing...I think I have to blindfold you."

    "What? Why?"

    "Just in case they turn you down. So that way you won't know where we meet."

    "Oh, come on."

    "Rules are rules, man."

    "I can't fly blind. Will you be able to carry me?"

    "Damn. I didn't think about that. Okay, new plan!"

    Happy Harbor, Rhode Island
    30 Seconds Later

    I come to a stop at the base with a blindfolded GL behind me sitting in a green construct of a sleigh. There are emerald reigns in his hands that lead up to a green headstock wrapped around my head.

    "Was the headgear necessary?"

    "Shut up and mush before I create a whip to crack at you!"

    "We're here anyway."

    The constructs disappears and GL removes his blindfold.

    "Oh, Happy Harbor."

    I put my hand to my face and sigh.

    "So much for that blindfold....How do you know about this place?"

    "From when I was in the Air Force. I flew training sorties in Metropolis and we'd fly over Happy Harbor every now and then."

    "Small world. Alright, let's head inside and go meet Snapper."

    "Who's that?"

    "This guy I met when I first came here. He was homeless schitzophrenic. After we cleaned up the place, we let him stay here and look after the place. He's a cool guy."

    "Yeah, sounds like a real peach."

    "Shaddup and be on your best behavior. Don't forget, I hold your fate in my hands!"

    "So now my fate has something in common with your penis?"

  7. MST3K 4ever

    MST3K 4ever BRING IT BACK!

    Jun 17, 2004
    Likes Received:

    Rhiannon gets a phone call on her cell phone from a clearly shaken Pete Ross who says, "What are you doing right now?"

    Rhiannon replies, "Right now enjoying peace and quiet and deciding whether I should accept Met-Tech's offer of being part of the faculty in the Spring Semester. You sound like you just saw the end of the world. What's wrong?"

    Pete says, "I may have. Cut on your TV any network will do."

    Rhiannon turns to LNN and watches a replay of the attack on The U-N.

    She then hears Savage speak:

    Rhiannon mutes the TV and says, "Pete...I...I have no idea what to say."

    Pete says, "Don't say anything, do something. You and The Justice League you all are that stands between us and them."

    Rhiannon replies with focus and determination in her voice, "We will count on it. I'm on my way to our HQ. We'll be in touch."

    Rhiannon hangs up the phone and cuts off the TV. She then transforms into the Atom.

    The Atom activates a number on her phone.

    I had this programmed into my phone it links me directly with the communications console at the HQ.

    The Atom rides the signal to the HQ and quickly emerges.

    The Atom restores herself to 6 inches in height and sees The Flash and GL bantering back and forth.

    The Atom says, "Guys we got a major situation here. Take a look."

    The Atom shows the video footage from the U-N security system and says, "We better get everyone and anyone else we can think of here. Now!"
  8. Byrd Man

    Byrd Man El Hombre Pájaro

    May 25, 2006
    Likes Received:

    Two Weeks From Now

    The sack over my head is starting to chafe. I'm still a little woozy as well. A cattle prod to the gut will do that to you. I've lost track of time. Handcuffed and in the back of this van, I could be halfway to Opal City for all I know. The roads turn bumpy and stay that way for the last five minutes of the trip. The driver puts the car in park and yanks me out. I hear bugs and smell the stink of the mud and stagnant water.

    Oh, God...I'm in Slaughter Swamp.

    The man behind me puts his hands on my shoulders and drives me to my knees. He yanks the sack off and the headlights of a car in front of me are right in my face.

    "I'm so disappointed in you, Eddie," a voice wheezes on the other side of the lights. I hear the squeak of something being pushed through the mud and the voice's owner comes into sight.

    Jim Gordon in a wheelchair being pushed by Harvey Bullock.

    "I had such high goddamn hopes for us....but you ruined it. What you're getting, you deserve every damn bit of."

    Funny thing is that he's not wrong.


    "Listen, Edward,"
    Sarah Essen, acting commissioner, says to me in her office. "I've talked to the Chief of Patrol now I'm going to talk to you about it. Let all the detectives in Central and out in the precincts to know that if the FBI or US Attorney approaches them, they don't say a word. They contact their union rep and lawyer up. There is no way these rats are going to come at us like we're common street hoods."

    "I agree. We need a united front. If there's any dirt to find, it won't come from us."

    "That goes for the administration as well," Essen says curtly. "Some people in high places could hurt us all with a few words."

    Three guesses who she's talking about. There is no way in hell I could inform on her and Gordon without incriminating myself.

    "Don't worry. I made a promise last year, I've been good on it so far."

    "Let's keep it that way."

    "So," I say, trying to change topics. "How's Jim?"

    "Getting better. He's starting physical therapy today. He's still having some troubles with speaking. But considering what he went through, it's a miracle."

    One women's miracle is another man's plague.

    "What about...."

    "I know what you're going to say, and don't say it. It never happened. Am I being clear?"


    "Now get out of here."

    I leave Essen's office without saying a word and head out to the parking garage. I drive for an hour to make sure I'm not being followed before I head to the Gotham Ritz. Feels like nearly a lifetime ago that I was staying here with Selina Kyle. Hard to believe it, but there's nothing I wouldn't give to have those ****ed up days back.

    I take the elevator to the sixth floor and knock on room 606. The door swings open and a large man escorts me inside where US Attorney Damon Matthews and FBI Special Agent Kate Spencer are waiting at a table.

    "Here he is," Matthews says enthusiastically. "Our star witness."

    Like I said, there is no way in hell I could inform on Essen and Gordon without incriminating myself.

    Lucky for me Matthews is prepared to offer me full immunity.
  9. Byrd Man

    Byrd Man El Hombre Pájaro

    May 25, 2006
    Likes Received:
    "What is that?"


    "Slow down!"

    "Oh, my God! It's an evil super team! It was bound to happen! They're like us...only without the goatees and eyepaches. Why don't the bad guys have goatees and eyepatches?! I DON'T UNDERSTAND IT!"
  10. Andy C.

    Andy C. Repent, Harlequin!

    Mar 1, 2006
    Likes Received:

    I make my way to the main hall when I hear Flash's voice, along with another--the Green Lantern, I assume. Today is the day we consider him for membership in the Justice League. His part in saving us from Doctor Destiny were a definite credit to his worth, and in my opinion, more than enough to prove him worthy of joining us. I believe most of my compatriots will feel the same.

    Before I can greet them, the Atom appears in the hall with them.

    "Guys we got a major situation here. Take a look." she says, activating the monitor and showing footage of an attack on the United Nations.

    " gods...." I say, shocked at the gathering of monsters and killers this 'Vandal Savage' has amassed for himself.

    Then I see her, among the group of fiends. Her smile one of bloodthirsty glee, the claws dripping with gore.

    "Cheetah," I say, my own blood boiling with rage, as my hands clench into fists. "If it's a war they's a war they'll get."
  11. Supergirl

    Supergirl The Maid of Might

    Jan 22, 2004
    Likes Received:
    A couple of weeks have passed, since the accident. The school was shocked. Five stars of the football team killed. The more neanderthal students were just upset at what it meant for the team. Thankfully, Chloe wasn't one. Things with Vic weren't really serious yet, but still hurt dearly. But Chloe's the best friend a girl could ask for, but still I keep my secret. Vic invited me out with him that night. I declined because I didn't want to deal with the throngs of girls pawning over him. If I'd have gone with them, I could have saved them.

    As Linda I've thrown myself into my studies. As Supergirl? I've taken my aggressions out on criminals. It's a very relieving form of therapy. But right now I'm just sitting in a classroom listening to Professor Swan go on about economics. Good god this is boring. Doesn't help matters much that my desk is by the window. Some days I just want to skip and take to the skies. Then I remember that it's college and I pay for every minute I'm here.


    "What was that Miss Danvers?"

    "Um, just interested in how risk aversion affects the risk heavy industries?"

    "Well if you paid attention properly, I wouldn't have to explain it multiple times."

    I keep my sigh internal this time... What a windbag.

    Once the class is over I head back to my dorm. I plan on changing real quick and heading to the sky. What I don't expect is Chlo. She's supposed to be in class. She's not.

    "How was econ?"

    "God I hate Swan. He's a pompous, egotistical ass."


    I sigh and drop onto my bed, as I start to tell her about my day and listen to hers. I'll just wait until later to patrol, I guess.
  12. Byrd Man

    Byrd Man El Hombre Pájaro

    May 25, 2006
    Likes Received:
    "Who else is supposed to be coming?"

    "Superman should be it," I say in a quiet voice as I rewatch the footage again. "We...uhh...we tried to reach out to Batman, but never got in contact with him. Shouldn't matter. We have a quorum. But I think what just happened takes precedence."
  13. MST3K 4ever

    MST3K 4ever BRING IT BACK!

    Jun 17, 2004
    Likes Received:


    The Atom says, "Right now we need all the help we can get, and more importantly the world needs to know we're ready to respond to The Legion Of Doom. As far as I'm concerned GL had a major role in saving the League and proved his valor that's good enough for me."

    The Atom turns her attention back to the computer and as quickly as she can rewinds the footage to the closing shot of The Legion Of Doom. She then frezze frames it.

    The Atom floats up to the front of the view-screen and begins touching each face on the screen.

    This would go a lot faster if I were normal size but silly me wanting to keep my identity a secret.

    She then says, "Computer facial recogniton program cross-reference with database."

    The Atom looks to the group and says, "I know someone in the CIA who specializes in Meta-Humans and other known associates."

    Just then the computer shows in seperate windows names and videos of The Legion Of Doom. All but Savage.

    The Atom says, "Not much to go on but at least it's a start."
  14. Spike_x1

    Spike_x1 Get off my bandwagon!

    Nov 15, 2003
    Likes Received:

    Okay. I'll admit it.

    That hurt.

    My body aches all over and it almost feels as if the Earth has been knocked away from me, instead of me being blasted away from it.

    That's how badly my head is reeling right now.


    Insult has successfully been added to injury. The impact certainly did not help my growing headache. Even in the dead silence of space endlessly surrounding me, my head rings like nothing anyone would ever believe. What was that he hit me with? Some kind of sonic blaster? A electromagnetic mega-disruptor? It's definitely a step up from the stolen IronWorks Toastmasters that have been hitting the streets lately.

    It suddenly occurs to me just how bizarre it is that I've become so familiar with such a large assortment of futuristic weaponry.

    Comes with the territory, I guess.


    ~League?~ I ask through the telepathic network maintained by J'onn, knowing that our favorite Martian returned to Earth a few days ago and was hoping to make an appearance at our first official Justice League meeting. ~I'm going to be running a little late. I ran into some minor trouble in Metropolis, but it shouldn't take too long.~

    Blasting off from the surface of the moon, I shrug off the heat of reentry and rocket through the skies back to the City of Tomorrow. My home.

    Nobody gets to tote around a weapon powerful enough to send me crashing into the moon. Not in my town. And that rule goes double for bank robbing racist cult leaders like Bloodsport, eager to turn such a gun against the first non-White man, woman, or child that he comes across.

    ~Superman, it might be in your best interest to hurry. An important matter has come up.~
  15. SenseiofCheese

    SenseiofCheese has been expecting you.

    Aug 6, 2007
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    Edit: Nothing to see here.
    Last edited: Nov 11, 2011
  16. Byrd Man

    Byrd Man El Hombre Pájaro

    May 25, 2006
    Likes Received:


    Nigerian Prison
    Outskirts of Kano

    The guard pushed the black British man down the corridor of the prison. They had stripped him of his suit and had replaced it with a dingy gray prison outfit. The guard shouted at him in the Hausa language.

    His eyes lingered as he passed a room where a white man with shaggy red hair was sitting in a wooden chair, a spotlight in his eyes.

    Name: Rick Flag
    Codename: Flagman
    Abilities: Skilled marksman, natural leader
    Role: Task Force X Field Leader

    The guard kept pushing the man to the end of the corridor and shoved him into a cell. The door slammed shut behind him and locked. The man paced around the room and his tongue instinctively rubbed the fresh filling in his back molar. The guards full cavity search had missed the new filling and the small GPS device in it. The man sat down on the edge of his cot and leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed.

    He was mentally preparing for the task to come.

    Name: Benjamin Turner
    Codename: Bronze Tiger
    Abilities: Expert in hand to hand combat and stealth
    Role: Tactical support


    Kaduna, Nigeria

    The middle aged black woman stood at the head of the table inside the hotel room. Gathered around her were three men and one woman.

    "Listen up, people..."

    Name: Special Agent Dr. Amanda Waller
    Codename: The Wall
    Role: Task Force X leader

    "Turner's tracking chip finally came to a stop on the outskirts of Kano. It's about 150 miles west of Kaduna. I ordered a UAV to fly over the location and it's a prison facility that matches our intel."

    "When do we move in?" The woman with dark hair and pale skin.

    Name: Eve Eden
    Codename: Nightshade
    Powers: Light manipulation, teleportation
    Role: Infiltration, transportation

    "We need Turner to get eyes on Flag before we try any sort of exfiltration. I've got it set it up to meet with Turner at the prison tomorrow morning. I'm going undercover as his lawyer."

    "No way in hell you're going in there alone," the man to Waller's right said in a gruff voice. He wore a glove on his right hand.

    Codename: Sarge Steel
    Role: Intelligence

    "Don't worry, Sarge. I ain't going in alone. I expect my guardian angel to be looking out for me. Ain't that right, Floyd and Vertigo?"

    "I don't think any goddamn guardian angel could shoot half as good as me."

    Name: Floyd Lawton
    Codename: Deadshot
    Abilities: Expert marksman
    Role: Sniper

    "When I go, I'm gonna need some recording devices on my person. Klutter, you got anything like that with us?"

    "I can rig something up," the skinny man with glasses said.

    Name: Noah Kuttler
    Codename: Calculator
    Abilities: Skilled hacker
    Role: Technological support

    "Good. Alright, that's it for now. Let's get working on tomorrow morning. We're out of here and on our way to Kano at 0600."
  17. MST3K 4ever

    MST3K 4ever BRING IT BACK!

    Jun 17, 2004
    Likes Received:

    Oswald gets a call from a somewhat distraught Mayor Grange.

    She asks, "Give it to me straight Oswald are the rumors true?"

    Oswald replies, "There so many rumors about me Madelyn could you please narrow it down to either my personal life or work environment?

    She says, "Your future plans."

    Oswald replies, "The fact that I plan continuing on supporting you and running the Iceberg Lounge that's about it. Nothing sensational there my dear. What's troubling?"

    Mayor Grange says, "There are rumors going around that you were planning a run for the Mayor's Office."

    Oswald laughs and says, "Me in politics? Madelyn please pay those rumors no mind. I have no intention of seeking public office. I find you to be a more than capable and faithful servant of the people of Gotham no truth to them at all."

    Mayor Grange says, "Well that's good to hear Oswald thank you for clearing up those rumors."

    Oswald says, "Not a problem at all my dear. In fact I'll make a statement later today when I have my press conference to announce that we are booking Rhianna for a week here at the lounge. Please keep that under your hat as it were.."

    Mayor Grange says, "Wow Oswald I certainly will! How did you pull that one off?"

    Oswald chuckles and says, "A good magician never reveals his tricks my dear. Well if you will excuse I have some last minute prep to do I am terribly sorry for any trouble that these unfounded rumors caused you and like I said I will address them later today. Goodbye my dear."

    He hangs up the phone and goes over to his pet vulture Titan and feeds him a snack.

    He says, "Don't worry Titan we're not going anywhere. Besides the media scrutiny could seriously hinder my operations. Mayor Grange doesn't know how well of a job she is doing. Staying out of my private affairs just the way I like it."

    Oswald receives a coded e-mail: Unconfirmed reports The Bat is hurt badly. Working to confirm.

    Oswald responds: Keep me informed.

    Ahh yes this has the makings of a great day indeed.
  18. Bounce

    Bounce Guest

    Likes Received:
    Benedict Arnold Elementary School
    Metropolis, Massachusetts

    As third graders went, Lor-Zod was something of an anomaly. Not having any secret identity, the young Kryptonian attended human school without any need to mask his abilities. He played down the physical side of course, so to be careful not to break one of his classmates, but was otherwise quite content to be himself. This created great disparity in where he sat in relation to his peers, as the boy could literally breeze through his math text with speed that was just shy of the Flash. The concepts being relatively universal, the pages of the text were turned in a visual blur as the boy used a pencil with equal speed to write out the assignments from the book.

    English was the opposite. He spoke it, thanks to whatever Mister Myxptlk had done to the boy when the two had first met, but vocabulary and reading comprehension were two areas where Lor-Zod struggled to keep pace with where the other third graders were.

    Science somewhere in the middle. In so much as math was involved, Lor was ahead of the curve. But when the concepts required a great deal of reading, he lagged with the back of the class.

    Though recess and Art were two areas in which the boy was utterly normal, it surprised many teachers and parents to learn that P.E. was a point in which the Superboy took a pass. Lor had no objection to restraining himself to be able to play with other kids, but there would be no honor in playing sports with humans. If Lor-Zod let the opposing team win, then he would be dishonest to both them and himself. And if he was true to himself, then there would be no competition. So the boy was content to stay back and watch. Fly around the court to keep whatever ball was in play from going too far outside the boundaries.

    One odd thing that Lor-Zod had ascertained from his observations of human physical education was that it seemed every sport of human invention involved a ball and a net. Sometimes the ball was moved by action of a foot. Or a hand. Or a stick. Of those, Adam liked the game which humans called 'soccer,' a foot-to-ball based game in which players chased the ball from one end of the field to the other, with the goal being a narrowly defined area in the end zone accessible only on one side.

    A curious waste of time, as the game didn't seem to impart to its participants any kind of skills which would be of use to a warrior.

    Lor-Zod wondered if Superman or Flash would ever play it with him...

    "Superboy, please report to the principal's office."

    Blinking, the general's son allowed himself a fraction of a second in which to contemplate the cause of his being summoned. He was quite certain that he'd been moving too quickly to have been seen when he'd put the tack on Mr. Wright's chair. And there hadn't been anything else that he'd really done today to warrant being in trouble. He'd put gum in Suzie Jenkins' hair, but that had been yesterday.

    "Superboy's in troooooooouble! Ooooooooooooooo!"

    Holy Rao, that had not just been Adam calling him out.


    Scowling, the brown-haired Kryptonian turned his attention to the kids on the soccer field that were now mocking him. And the son of Zod did not suffer fools lightly. In a red blur, Lor-Zod pantsed the boys on the field - Adam included - and gave the girls something else to laugh at, while he skulked along toward the principal's office

    * * * * * * * * * * * :super: * * * * * * * * * * * *
    NASA Pike Island Research Center
    Metropolis, Massachusetts

    "You couldn't have found a better way to call me?"

    "Look, all I'm saying is I'd like just one day where I'm not called to the principal's office," Dabney Donovan stated. The newly dubbed NASA project manager stood in the center of his own mission control center, banks of monitors tracking Superboy on satellite while simultaneously broadcasting images of the Texas wildfires. Still, Donovan was slightly distracted from the point of the assignment. "When he said 'pantsed the kids' are we talking underwear?"

    "Sir, there's a situation in New York."

    Muting the bluetooth mic that linked him with Superboy, Donovan switched his attention to yet another monitor in the room.

    "To any members of the Justice League watching this, know that this is only the beginning..."

    "No, just their shorts this time."

    "Situation my ass. That's a ****ing disaster," Dabney commented, motioning for the intern to mute the audio before the man reached up to tap the bluetooth in his ear. What had the kid said? Only their shorts? That was at least cause for a sigh of relief. Maybe he'd be able to escape this incident without either he or Fionna Ross showing up at the next school board meeting to pay off the administrators to overlook this little incident. "I guess at least they didn't catch you using x-ray vision on the girls."

    "Ew! Why would I want to do that?"

    "Ask me again in four years," Dabney replied glibly, before returning to the monitors tracking the spread of fires in the Lonestar State. The two larger fires were the most pressing concern. "All right, so we'll work on some kind of midget Bat-Signal for you or whatever. You're over Kentucky now, so you'll be arriving at the target soon. Now, there fire extends from a chemical factory to a residential neighborhood. Its important you save the chemical factory first..."

    * * * * * * * * * * * :super: * * * * * * * * * * * *
    Somewhere in the skies

    "...otherwise this fire could get a whole lot worse. And for more than just the people of Houston."

    The howl of the wind cut into the sound of Dabney's voice through the bluetooth piece that was in the child's ear, but Lor-Zod's hearing was more than adequate to make out the man's words even as the child split the air with a sonic boom. In a second, the boy had plummeted several hundred feet, dropping below the clouds to the choking embrace of soot and smoke.

    They had given him a "smart phone" device that included GPS and mapping technology to assist him in navigating while flying. Definitely an improvement over his earlier attempt at flying from Alabama to Massachusetts. Tucking the phone away into his jeans pocket, the boy wondered if the view such as this couldn't explain Superman's reason for being a hero for humanity.

    He could hear voices crying out in terror. Feel the tension running through the air, as animals tried to find an escape from the fires that were encroaching on their woodland. Sense the fear in the fire fighters and the soldiers who had waged a futile battle against the destructive element.

    They were holding out for a hero.

    And the son of Zod would give them one.

    Last edited: Nov 11, 2011
  19. Spike_x1

    Spike_x1 Get off my bandwagon!

    Nov 15, 2003
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    "All right, Trent," I say, closing in on Bloodsport on the front steps outside of Metropolis' First National Bank. "That won't happen again." When I first encountered Alex Trent inside the bank a minute ago, I underestimated the strength of his weapons and was hit with a blast that sent me through the roof of the building and into outer space. Needless to say, I'm not going to let him hit me again.

    It looks as if, after momentarily dealing with me, Bloodsport took the money and ran straight into the police outside, which is where he's been forced to remain until now. The cops have been standing their ground, but with the weaponry available to him, I can't imagine they could slow Trent down forever. The man is a walking armory now that he has upgraded himself. The last time he was in the news, Alex Trent was wanted for the theft of experimental teleportation technology from STAR Labs. A quick X-ray scan shows me the last thing I wanted to see: the teleporter has been surgically implanted in his body, with receiver ports wired into his back and the palms of his hands. Judging from what I've seen him do today, that means that he can mentally command various items from some hidden cache of weapons to teleport directly into his hands, or some backpack weapon onto his back. Lord only knows where he originally stole the weapons from.

    [BLACKOUT]"Back for more, alien?"[/BLACKOUT]


    Taking his eyes off the police watching from the bottom of the stairs, Trent reels around to face me, but takes a bullet in the shoulder fired from an officer below. Roaring in anger, some sort of double-barreled rocket launcher materializes in his grip. Clutching his bullet wound with one hand, Trent takes aim with his other hand at the officer who shot him and returns fire.

    Without a moment's hesitation, I hit the tail end of the rocket with a forceful blast of heat vision, forcing the nose upward and sending it off its intended course and into the sky where it explodes harmlessly. While I was busy doing that, however, Bloodsport was taking aim at me with his second shot. Of course, I only realize this when I feel the missile hit my chest and explode.

    Unfortunately for Trent, I casually brush dirt off my shoulders when the smoke and flames clear. "If you really want to hurt me, Bloodsport, you should stick with whatever it was that you hit me with before."

    [BLACKOUT]"The Orbit-Buster only has one shot before it needs to be recharged, but it don't matter,"[/BLACKOUT] he growls as his teleporter begins humming to life again. [BLACKOUT]"I don't have to kill you to hurt you, after all."[/BLACKOUT] I know what he's about to do now. He thinks he can endanger or kill innocent people to distract me while he makes his getaway. It's been tried before.

    Sadly for Trent though, the only thing that appears in his hands now is a pile of inorganic slop that slides through his fingers and into a puddle at his feet. [BLACKOUT]"What the hell--?"[/BLACKOUT]

    "I used my heat vision to ionize the air around you, scrambling the signal reaching your teleportation receivers." I calmly float down and walk towards Bloodsport. "I imagine that you can still mentally call for weapons, but your technology doesn't know how to rebuild it in your hands. You're stuck with whatever random mess of molecules it decides to spit out."

    [BLACKOUT]"Goddamn alien!"[/BLACKOUT] That's when Trent decides to take a swing at me. I let him him bruise his knuckles before flicking my finger at him in return, knocking him unconscious as the police climb the stairs and surround us.

    "People are pretty shaken up in there," I gesture to the bank, "but no one was injured."

    "We had this covered, boyscout!" says an approaching member of the Special Crimes Unit. Detective John Corben. I've interviewed him several times. Known for almost routine-like applications of excessive force, I didn't want him pushing Bloodsport too far. More than likely, that would have resulted in a massacre at Trent's hands, despite Corben's claims of control. "Go save the world from some more giant starfish and dream ladies. We'll take care of the human crazies. Damn showboat."

    Sure. "Just be sure to get a trace on Trent's teleportation link to find the location of the stash that he was getting his weapons from." In spite of my dislike for Corben, I do believe that he and his team can handle things from here. Which is good, because I have places to be.


    "Sorry for being late. I was held up," I say as I step into the main lobby of the Justice League headquarters in Happy Harbor where the other members have gathered.

    "No need for apologies, Superman," replies J'onn J'onzz as he phases through one of the walls into the room. "I have already explained to the others that you were busy. Now, if you will give me your attention, I can tell you about the threat that has just come to our attention..."

    As J'onn catches me up to speed on this "Legion of Doom," I remain silent. I had hoped that the Justice League would inspire other people to step up and do good, but I see now that it also had the effect of inspiring villains to up their ante and form a team of their own.

  20. Carnage27

    Carnage27 No one's puppet

    Dec 5, 2007
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    A hard punch rouses me into consciousness. I struggle in vain against the restraints on my arms, but I know nothing is going to break them. I look up at my interrogator. The smug Brit named Jack Hawksmoor. My rage builds as he just stares at me. They've had me locked up for over a month, seeing how I work, trying to find out what my motive for trying to kill the girl, Jenny Quantum.

    But I have no motive. I never had any desire to kill the girl. In fact, I wanted to be on these people's, who call themselves The Authority, side. I wanted to help them. I wanted to find the people that made me, and the people that want them dead.

    Unfortunately, when the girl came out to meet me when I was brought to them, some program imbedded in my head kicked in and I attempted to strangle her. The bastards must have wanted a contingency plan in case I didn't want to perform their mission.

    Stormwatch. That's what they call themselves apparently. They've been trying to kill Quantum and Jenny Sparks, The Authority's leader, for years. Why, I don't know. But apparently Stormwatch was some kind of government project to create the ultimate nuclear deterrent. How that led to this little war I still haven't found out.

    "So," Hawksmoor says as he takes a seat in front of me. "You've been dead set on keeping your cover story. So much so that Sparks thinks you might actually be telling the truth."

    "I am telling the truth."

    "Well, that remains to be seen," he sighs. "And see we will." He motions towards the one-way mirror that covers on wall, "Angela, please come in."

    The door opens, and in walks a woman made of what looks like pure metal. She looks like a hot version of the T-1000 from Terminator 2.

    "Cyborg," she says as she approaches. "I'm the Engineer. I'm going to give you a look. See if you're telling the truth, and to see whether or not I can deactivate your programming, if that's the case."

    "Is it going to hurt?" I ask, not really sure why. I've been beaten up so much it really doesn't matter.

    "It might," she responds coolly as her hands turn into a wire to connect to the port in the back of my head.

    And hurt it does.
  21. Byrd Man

    Byrd Man El Hombre Pájaro

    May 25, 2006
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    "Wonder Woman and I both had a run in with Cheetah back before the Justice League got started. The rest of them are completely foreign to me."

    I hear voices out of earshot just down the hallway. Superman and Martian Manhunter come around the corner where we've gathered.

    "Any of these people look familiar to you guys?" I ask them, motioning to the screen where Atom has the files and information about the "Legion of Doom."
  22. Spike_x1

    Spike_x1 Get off my bandwagon!

    Nov 15, 2003
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    "I know the Atomic Skull." I point to the man on screen with a head in the form of a skull covered in radioactive fire. "His real name is Joe Martin, and he regularly suffers from severe hallucinations where he believes that his actions are actually acts of heroism. Whether he's in his right mind at any given time, or if he's in the middle of a deep hallucination can be incredibly hard to judge."

    As much as I want to help him, Joe's mental instabilities are inconsequential right now. If he's thrown in with people who see nothing wrong with launching an attack on the United Nations, then he needs to be taken down along with the rest of them. "Along with radiation manipulation, Joe's can fly and is strong and durable enough to trade punches with me without breaking much of a sweat. Besides that, he's inherently radioactive, so I'd suggest keeping your distance if you can."

    Another face on the monitor catches my eye, but it takes me a moment to recognize it and really affirm who I think it is. "And him? The big gray one? He looks like Umberto Maroni, a high ranking mobster from Gotham City. He went missing more than a year ago." I've been keeping up on some of the country's big time crime figures for a good while now, and while it's not unheard of for some to go missing, to say the least, it's not exactly common to see one suddenly reappear on the news in the form a gray hulking monster. "I have no idea how he became like that, but it's definitely him."
    Last edited: Nov 11, 2011
  23. Byrd Man

    Byrd Man El Hombre Pájaro

    May 25, 2006
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    Matthews paces around the room while Spencer watches me impassively.

    "Here's how it's going to go," Matthews starts. He ticks off points on his fingers as he talks. "One, our deal does not leave this room. Only the three of us are to be privy of your efforts to inform on the GCPD. Two, we are the ones who make contact with you. Do not attempt to contact us under any circumstances. Three, you do what we say when we say it. I know you have a track record of being...'independent' but that ends when you work for us. Fourth and finally, I'm not out to arrest some schmuck beat cop with ulcers. I'm going hunting for the big game. I want Gordon, Essen, Bullock. I want some ****ing antlers I can hang up on my wall. If you can't follow these rules, then we will have a problem. Are we going to have any problems, Inspector?"

    "No, sir. I sign those immunity papers, and I'll do whatever the hell you want."

    "That's gonna have to wait," Matthews says, looking at his wristwatch. "For now, I'll leave you in the care of Special Agent Spencer. When you make contact, more often that not it'll be through her. Best of luck."

    With that, Matthews leaves the hotel room and I'm left alone with Spencer.

    "Before we get down to any deals and immunity, I need something from you. A show of good faith. Hard evidence that you have information that can lead to the arrest of dirty cops. What do you have for us, Nygma?"

    I hold my tongue from cussing out loud. ****ing pigs.

    "Not sure if I feel comfortable talking without fear of prosecution."

    "Listen, I don't have time for your crap. You want to play games, that's fine. No immunity. Just remember that you're the type that the bull in Stonegate love to have a good time with. By the time they get done with you, you won't be able to sit down again."

    I sigh and look away from her. I stay quiet for a few moments before breaking the silence.

    "There's this sergeant in the Northeast. Dylan Murphy. He runs a protection racket with all the immigrant store owners in Bennett Beach."

    "That's the best you got?"

    "Nope, but you think I'll blow my wad in one meeting? You got another thing coming, lady."

    "Fine. I'll check this out. But for now, we're done. I'll be in touch."

    Spencer stands up and shows me the way out the door.


    IC: Vic Sage

    I take a final drag off my cigarette before tossing it to the ground and stomping it out. The Ace Chemical plant looms in front of me. I walk inside the abandoned factory and head to the scene of the crime.

    The back office where Detective Marcus Driver was killed.

    Two days on the case and reading on the files led me back here. There were only a few crime scene photos and the forensic report that came back was sloppy to say the least.

    I look over the photos and walk through the room, imagining exactly where everything was the night Driver was murdered. I have the file under my arm. I pull it out and lay the photos out on the floor.

    Okay, Driver was killed when he had his throat slit. Driver was a big guy, he'd be hard to hold down. The toxicology report said he had a bunch of Benzodiazepine in his system. So, whoever killed him had to drug him first. They had to get close to drug him. So...someone he trusted?

    I walk over to the desk where Driver's body was found. The blood was pouring out and to the right on the desk. So, that means the cut probably went from left to right. The killer was probably right handed. And short, judging by the angle of the cut. No taller than 5'7. No wallet or cellphone was found on Driver's body. A murder out here in a deserted location. It was somebody he knew. He was killed to keep him quiet.

    But why?

    I go about picking up the photos and case files. I pull out my cellphone once they're all back in place.

    "Stan? It's Vic. I need some help....yeah, I need all the case files about the last few cases Driver worked and I also need all his financial information."
  24. Carnage27

    Carnage27 No one's puppet

    Dec 5, 2007
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    Boy Blue
    ~No Place Like Home~
    Part 1

    I take a deep breath of air I thought I'd never fill my lungs with again. I'm back in the Homelands for the first time in over a century. The Fabletown council decided it was time to take the fight to The Adversary after the invasion of the Wooden Soldiers, and I volunteered to lead the mission. After all these years, and after what happened to Pinocchio, I was itching to take my frustration and anger out on the Emperor's forces.

    But I haven't come alone. Bufkin flutters onto my shoulder, the flying monkey refusing to stay behind as I risk my life. And Cinderella came in front of our arrival, setting up a portal to the Mundy world for us to pass through.

    After enjoying the sight of the Homelands for the first time, I begin trudging through the forest I've come out of. And before long, I run into a short, little man who doesn't look all too happy to see me, "You Blue?"

    "Yea, that's me," I nod. "You're Cindy's contact?"

    "That seems to be the case," he grunts motions for me to follow him. "Your princess told me the plan. Seems like it'll probably work. There's been enough dissent in the ranks here for long. But we've been missing the spark to light the powder keg. Your plan might just do that."

    "Well, we sure hope it does," I say as the three of us pass out of the woods and I lay eyes upon a sight not even I have seen before.


    "Welcome to the Emerald City, Blue," Bufkin says, excited to be home.
  25. MST3K 4ever

    MST3K 4ever BRING IT BACK!

    Jun 17, 2004
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    The Atom floats away from the screen and says, "The destruction of the U-N was their opening salvo and it's safe to say it won't be their last. Sooner or later they're going to strike again. With that in mind; should we make a public appearance to draw them out. Maybe send them a message."

    She turns to the group and says, "It's full-hearty and dangerous I know, but if we pick up the gauntlet then maybe we can set up the next encounter and potentially draw them away from populated areas."

    The Atom shakes her head and says, "If anyone else has a better idea let's hear it. There's some very nervous and frightened people right now and they need some sort of assurance."

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