The Ultimate DC RPG - Season III

[Batman]

"C'mon, c'mon..."

Knew the authorization keycard wouldn't get me in. Being one of the leading technological pioneers in the world, it isn't hard to imagine that Waynetech upgrades their security software every few months, leaving me to wonder just how the hell I even managed to sneak my way onto the lot with the amount of automated alarm systems put in place. So instead of using the once guaranteed "full access" to any weaponry I needed from the company's archive division warehouse, I'm forced to rely on alternative methods - and certainly ones that're less than legal - in order to get me through the door. Specifically, a pretty potent hacker's encryption that I was lent by my new partner-in-crime last night, whenever we came up with this admittedly insane plan.

Our lead on the case is a tough nut to crack. I looked up the incident through the backlog of headlines at the Gotham Globe, and it turns out that I was right. Five years ago, there were two names being whispered among the city's criminal underworld. One of them was The Batman, who had only started hitting Carmine Falcone's drug cartels. With his continued prescence, people were running scared, thinking that the era of crime was over - what they didn't realize was that a new one had just begun. The other name that had began making the rounds was Doctor Death, aka Karl Hellfern, a chemical kingpin who used a bizarre gimmick of hiding his identity behind a gas mask and using shadowy connections to fund an underground revolution of new age bio-terrorism.

Naturally, the two clashed a couple of times. But while Bruce wasn't able to get a firm grasp on the good Doctor's methods for the first few months of their rivalry, Hellfern inevitably upped the scale of their confrontations. At first, he extended it to robberies and heists. But then came the night that Hellfern's people hit the Gotham Reservoir, and everything changed. There were a few people working that night, and to see all hell break loose whenever a few masked goons came in, guns blazing, must've been enough to send everyone in a frenzy. Hellfern's control over it was minimal, but he did have one ace up his sleeve - a new biological compound that he'd invented himself, as an ex-biologist working for Gothcorp. In his insanity, he intended to dump it in the Reservoir if he didn't recieve a sum of at least twelve billion dollars by midnight.

While I'd never question Bruce's motives, he'd be the first to admit that Batman's interference may have caused more harm than good. Back then, he was still a rookie. He made plenty of mistakes, and perhaps the biggest one was underestimating his enemies. Because when Hellfern put a gun to the tanks carrying the mutagen that he'd intended to use on the city, threatening to pierce the containers and kill everyone inside, Bruce only kept fighting. The trigger was pulled. The gas came funneling out, and the only ones able to filter it out of their systems were the men who'd only contributed to the chaos.

Out of six of the Reservoir's matinence staff that had been caught within the proximity of the gas, five were killed instantaneously. The mutagen was derived from toxicities found in plantlife, triggering a nasty effect that involved the rapid mutation of human DNA into plants. Even Hellfern didn't realize the effect it'd have, as he was dragged away by police, horrified at the discovery. But one woman managed to still be breathing by the time that paramedics made it to the scene, even though she had to be contaminated.

Her name was Paula Irving. And if you'd believe the Globe, she hasn't been seen in Gotham since that night. Her condition stablized in the hospital, but she had went missing soon afterwards and reported missing by family. Irving was a recent highschool graduate at the time, working at minimum wage at the Reservoir just to make end's meet. Ultimately, there was nothing extraordinary about her that warranted a continued search. The family grieved and the city moved on, another victim claimed.

"Finally,"

Seeing the red light of the security console switch over to green causes me to smirk, as I detatch the encryption key, replace the module's cover, and push open the large hangar door to the warehouse. Hundreds of crates - maybe even thousands - labelled with the Waynetech logo greet me from the darkness, overlapped with a thick sheen of dust. Someone hasn't been by this place in years. Perfect, then there's nobody that's gonna miss anything I take.

Activating the earpiece, I shut the door behind me and go to work at unboxing everything in sight.

Time to see how the other side of the investigation's going.

Well, scratch that. The only side of it.

"Hey, just checking in. What have you found?"

"..."

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just not used to having the extra voice in my head."

"Color me surprised. Which of us dresses like a cat, again?"

"Oh, you're a gem."

Taking a crowbar to the top of a rather ridiculously large container, I pry open it's contents and pause, taking a glance over them with a penlight. I knew that Bruce had access to a serious amount of toys, but I never could've even imagined half of this existed right now. And these are just the rejected models. Who knows what they've got cooking up at R&D.

"Basically, everything I've found tells me what we already knew - Irving hasn't touched the place in years. And standing in the living room right now, I can see why. The apartment's current condition is hardly liveable, and all that's left is some mildew and a few undesirable pests scattering up the walls. If this is really her last known address, she's either in hiding or she's dead. Everything was carted out a long time ago."

Damn. Part of me was hoping this'd be the easy part of it all. Because if we found her living happily at home, her return to a normal life having been forgotten or mulled over in the press, it'd be one less chance of the alternative. That Paula Irving is not only alive, but was somehow responsible for the murder of Mario Falcone.

I tried to entertain the idea that someone simply got ahold of Doctor Death's old formula for the mutagen and replicated it, using it against the only son in a score to settle with the old man. But I spent the day researching what happened to the original canisters found at the scene of the Reservoir incident. After a subsidary of Waynetech volunteered their services in the cleanup and restoration of the plant, just a month before the Reservoir closed it's doors, the canisters were never recovered for police evidence.

Which means that they're likely sitting in a storage box in that cave underneath of Wayne Tower. There's no way anyone other than Karl Hellfern could duplicate the formula or it's effects without being directly involved in that night. And given that Irving was exposed to the gas, well... god only knows what's become of her since.

"Alright. I was afraid of that, but I guess we're just gonna have to assume she's the perpetrator."

"What about you? Any luck 'gathering supplies', or whatever you said you were busy doing?"

Oddly enough, just as she asked, I managed to spot the primary piece that I was looking for - an urban warfare tactical suit, tri-weaved with kevlar and nomex, for flexibility. It was the basis for the first few of Bruce's uniforms, and - even though it was never really my style - the only thing capable of getting the job done in terms of sheer protection from gunfire and other obstacles. Which I unfortunately lack, these days.

"I've made some progress, if that's what you mean. Though I'm still far from prepared to take on the majority of Falcone's men."

The "insane plan" that we devised is this: while Falcone is scouring every inch of the city for Catwoman, since he still believes that she's the closest tie to the death of his kid, she can't take an awful lot of risks. And risks are exactly what we need to make a break in this case, given that we're gonna have to tear half of Gotham apart looking for Irving. So my plan is thus. While Catwoman goes on the hunt, I'm going to throw myself after every mobster, goon, and underling under Falcone's employ and try to survive the night.

More or less, I'm serving as the ultimate distraction. If my feline accomplace can find Irving in time and get her to confess to the murder, we'll have all of the evidence that we need to get Falcone to stop the hunt. He can focus his firepower on the person really responsible, and they can settle their differences in private. My promise to keep the thief safe would be fulfilled, and I can focus back on what matters.

Is it underhanded? Perhaps. And I know that Bruce sure as hell wouldn't approve.

But in the recent weeks, Gotham has been anything but merciful. The city's problems have been stacking up by the ton, and it's getting harder to handle.

I think I can afford to let a couple of murderers concentrate on taking the other out.

"Well, if we need a new plan, now would be the time to start brainstorming. Because the deadline for all of this to go down is closing in on us. We've got until tomorrow before Falcone's forces are likely to increase."

Taking my seat at the inventory computer at the end of the room, I start combing through the list of firearms that are about to be laid down at my disposal. I know I promised Barbara whenever I used the pistols. The kid's against us using anything lethal, and on some level, it's an admirable little bit of naiveity.

But this is war. And in war, you've got to fight fire with fire.

"Oh, believe me..."

Semi-automatics. SMG's. Surface-to-air missiles and rocket launchers.

A mountain of warfare at my fingertips.

"I think by tomorrow night, I'll be right as rain."

 

[Saved]

Batgirl
3.8 ​

"Little bat..."
"wHaT dO YoU fEaR?"

I am sleep, yet I feel my body twitch and convulse.

"rEd HeADeD cHiLd ... WhAT hAUntS yOUr pSyChE?"

Whispers in my dreams. Dark voices call unto me through the blackness. I hear them scream at me- feel their words claw at the corners and dark edges of my mind.

Within my subconscious, I keep the horrors of my reality locked away. No fantasy could ever rival the memories I've quarantined. Finger nails scrape across the door and echo their high pitched squeals.

"oPen UP," the dark one beckons. "lEt mE In."

Shivers run through my bones- my eyelids become soaked with tears as I try to retrain the evils within. I can't let those devils out. I mustn't.

"Awake..."

My eyes snap open instantly, disorienting me as I come to consciousness. I try to move my arms but they do not respond to my commands. As I shift my pupils to investigate, I find, to my surprise, I am not restrained. Not physically, anyway.

"W-what..." I struggle to speak, my lips barely responding.
"What's happened to you?" The Scarecrow says from behind me. I try to see him, but my head doesn't respond. "Paralysis. Induced sleep paralysis, to be specific. A chemical cocktail of my own design. But, not to worry. It will wear off momentarily; then our fun truly begins."

"W-what'd you ... do?" I say, my lips becoming more responsive.
"Ah, memory loss. Interesting," he says with twisted enthusiasm. He pulls out a notepad and makes a quick note. "How about I catch you up to speed? You broke into my Asylum and began tormenting my patients. Logically, the only course of action was to pacify you. After my subjects brought you here, I took the opportunity to pry into your mind. You're quite the talker when you're asleep."

Oh no.

"Don't worry, your mask is still on your face. I didn't peak. No, no, I find it much more entertaining to deduce your identity through psycholysis. A term of my own design. The deconstruction of one's psyche."

As he talks, my body becomes stronger. I begin to regain feeling in my feet, then my legs, and upward to my spinal column. I remain still throughout the process; biding my time until I am able to strike.

"From what my patients tell me, you're quite the vigilante. Taking on the visage of the Batman, yet, you fight along the side of the Red Hood. You get around, don't you?" He chuckles. "You have no idea how thrilled I am to have you here. Besides the Bat or the Hood, you're the next best candidate for me to get the opportunity to ... study."
"What do you mean?"

He walks around the table until he is standing behind my head. He peers down at me, forcing me to stare at the upside down image of his stitched potato sack mask. I see his cold blue eyes behind the straw and frayed fabric. He's a monster.

"Well, I've been working on a special drug for quite some time. It's quite ingenious, really. A neurotoxin that exacerbates the response of the amygdala, while suppressing the pre-frontal cortex and limbic system's function. I've found it very useful in my work with the patients here."
"Fancy words for a freak dressed up like a character from Oz."
"Hm. Cute. I thought I might be in the company of an intellectual. My mistake. I'll dumb down the jargon for you. My drug enhances the body's sensory reaction to outward stimuli."

That's dumbed down?
"It enhances fear, my dear. Your fear. I put a diluted dose into the air vents when you broke into the patient housing structure."

Fear toxin? That explains why I was freaking out. I don't know what this psychopath has in mind, but I better get out of here before I find out.

"Well, as fun as this lesson in pharmaceuticals has been, I've got a bus to catch, so-" I throw my hands out and grab the edge of the bed. As I flex my abs, I swing my legs up to kick him in the face. To my surprise, he steps out of the way, and I fall to the floor. As I turn to face him, I feel a dagger slice into my shoulder. I grab the barb and pull it out. As I look at the object more closely, I realize it is not a knife, but a syringe.

"HaHAhahAHAHahaHAHa," the Scarecrow laughs. "You didn't really think I was so foolish, did you? I knew the drug was wearing off the moment you started to use full sentences. You played your hand MUCH to early, girl."

He kicks me in the side, sending me flying into a wall. I feel my body grow weak as the poison in the needle takes effect.

"It's like I told you, Batgirl; I've been conducting trials on my patients with my drug. And, while the information I've gained from observing their reactions has been pertinent, it's been lacking the results that my curiosity most craves."

I hear his footsteps as he approaches. I try to tense my muscles to fight, but they fail to respond. Come on, Barbara, don't let this be the end.

"What I've TRULY wanted wasn't to see the effects on 90 insane subjects," he grabs my hair and pulls me to my knees. Tugging on it, he positions my head back until we are face to face. "But on one SANE." He brings his other fist in front of my face and squeezes something in the palm of his hand. A tan gas emits from his fingers and I reluctantly inhale it.

It burns my nostrils; stinging my nasal passages until it reaches my brain. I feel my head throb and my lungs burn. He releases me as he laughs and I drop to the floor. I clutch the tiles viciously, causing my fingers to bleed beneath my gloves.

"Let the study begin," he snickers. He turns his back and begins to head toward the door at the far end. As he walks, I hear him drop more capsules to the ground; they let out a loud hiss as the gas releases into the air, creating a thick haze in the air. "Welcome to the Asylum of Horrors, Batgirl. Your horrors."

The door shuts behind him, leaving me alone in the room. As I survey the space around me, I notice my eyes beginning to distort reality. Shadows move and outlines wane. "Get it together," I tell myself. Thinking fast, I grab my cellphone hidden within the heel of my boots. I instantly send a new message to Detective Burke. As my fingers click away at the letters, I hear a laugh resonate throughout the room.

"Well, well, well," a man speaks with a malicious tone. "If it isn't Barbara Gordon. Taken to playing dress up, now?"

I raise my head to see the Black Mask before me. In his grip is the neck of my brother, Jimmy. He grips his trachea tightly, and Jimmy gasps for air; clawing at the sinister man's arm as he tries to stay alive.

"Never did know when to grow up, did you?" He smiles. He draws a gun from beneath his blazer and puts it to Jimmy's head. "Let me help you." He pulls the trigger and a cloud of red mist scatters. My heart sinks as I watch Jimmy's body fall to the floor, limp and lifeless.

"Jimmy ... not again ... no."
"Don't worry, Barbara," he says, taking aim. "You're next."

I feel my finger press on the button of my phone, sending the message to the detective. "You're gonna pay for that," I say in anger, my rage overtaking me. I drop the phone and I fly forward in fury. I kick the gun from his hand while I elbow his face. The mask cracks and falls to the floor in pieces. As I land in a three point stance, the Black Mask stumbles backward, his hands over his face in pain.

"I'm not that scared little girl anymore, you sick freak! I'm not your victim!"

His hands slip away from his face and drop to his side. My eyes widen as I see his identity.

"Oh, I beg to differ."

****​

Recipient: Detective Burke
Sender: ***-8576
Date: 6/12/12
Message: Tommy ... help.

 

[Eddie Brock]

The Star City shipping yards. I had received a call from Charles Hackett telling me that it was time to "indoctrinate" me in this business of his. Well, it's not his business, truly, but that of one Chien Na-Wei, Triad druglord and overall mystery. In any event, I make my way down to the shipping yards, as instructed, to meet with Hackett. Last time I was here, I was wearing a suit of a different kind and watching the final breaths of Kazuo Takumi, the local Yakuza leader. Would that I could have saved him, but Shado made certain that this place would be his grave.

It's not hard to find Hackett once I've arrived. The shipping yards are populated by all kinds of characters, but few wear Armani suits and drive Bugatti. Hackett is standing in an open space, wearing a grey suit with a powder blue tie. I parked a few blocks down the street, opting to walk the rest of the way. I can't have people asking questions about why they saw Ollie Queen driving to the shipping yards. It's much easier to slip in unnoticed on foot.

"Oliver! Glad you could come," Hackett says congenially. He extends a hand, and I shake it vigorously. "I've received your first deposit."

I smile. A fake deposit, engineered by my new "friend" Joseph Coyne. He created a shell account so that I can gain Hackett's trust without actually supporting a criminal organization. Should be about a week until they notice that there isn't any money. That gives me plenty of time to learn what I need to learn about the Triads and about China White. "Always happy to help."

"Yes, well, I suppose you're wondering why I've asked you to meet me here." Hackett looks around. He's like a fish out of water in this place. Me? I fit in just fine. "But I've always been of the opinion that a man should get to know his business from the ground up."

"Wise advice," I agree. That's largely what I hope to accomplish with this little infiltration. You can't topple an organization if you don't understand it, and I don't know much about the Triads. Not yet, anyway.

"Let me ask you a question," Hackett begins. "How do you think my employer established such a strong foothold in Star City so quickly?"

"Supply," I answer. "Everyone knows that." It's true. China White rose to prominence because she was importing heroin and opiates at a rate the likes of which no one had ever seen. It drove her prices down and forced her competitors to try and match it - which, of course, they couldn't.

Hackett nods. "Supply must come from somewhere." He turns and motions to the large shipping barge docked just behind him. Its name reads "The Pacific Queen." "This is one of ours. It's one of three, actually. They bring the supply into the mainland."

"And where are they bringing it from?" I ask.

Hackett smirks. "Remember those Pacific islands I was raising money and awareness for? Well, everything I said was true. Conditions truly are dreadful there. But opportunity presents itself in the most unlikely of places..."

Hackett puts his arm on my shoulder and leads me as we talk.

"My employer grew up on one of those tiny islands," he continues. "But she had greater ambition. She longed for something more than poverty and servitude on some blip of land in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Lucky for her, these islands were known for one thing: opium fields.

"The Triads had long been reaping these islands for their sweet product by enslaving the natives. My employer was among their servants, but she was no slave." As Hackett talks, I detect the hint of admiration in his voice. He's inspiredby China White's story. "She organized an uprising on the island she called home and made her stand against the Triads." He chuckles. "I don't suspect her co-conspirators realized that she was only looking to use them as leverage."

"What happened?"

"She turned over the rebellion's leaders in exchange for her freedom," Hackett explains. "And she impressed the Triad leaders so much that she was made a part of their organization. It was she who saw the opportunity that Star City presented, and with the opium supply from her home island, she was poised to take it."

"Wow. That's..." Repulsive. "... amazing."

Hackett stops walking and smiles at me. "Yes. You see, there's no length to which my employer won't go to protect her budding empire."

Suddenly, I feel a prick on the back of my neck. I turn to see Hackett holding a syringe in his hand.

"I'm terribly sorry about this, Oliver. You have to believe me." The bastard poisoned me! "I vouched for you, but orders are orders. Your support - while appreciated - will draw too much attention to our organization."

Things start to go black.

"If it's any consolation, she wanted you dead. I managed to argue to save your life."

My knees are the first thing to go. As I collapse, my face begins to feel numb. I can see feet gathering around me as my peripheral vision fades, and everything after that is a blur...
​

 

[Spike_x1]

It's not something that I ever imagined I would do any time soon, but I reassure myself that I would not have nominated Dr. Irons for membership in the Justice League if I didn't trust him with my life and the greater good.

I'm going to tell him that Clark Kent is Superman.

As I step out of the taxi and into the glowing lights emanating from John Henry's Ironworks facility here in Suicide Slum, I have to take a deep breath. I only found out yesterday that Jimmy knows that I'm Superman, and I'm already deciding on sharing that secret with one more person. The last two days have just been full of surprises.

Walking through the front door and into the lobby, I'm greeted with the sight of what looks like a business in complete disarray. Irons' work has been incredibly well funded by government contracts, and he's been pouring most of his profits into either more of his work, or into efforts to improve the community. Whenever I've come here as Superman, I've always found a polished work environment and a receptionist at the front desk, so seeing piles of unsorted paperwork scattered around and no one at the desk makes me more than a little concerned.

"Hello? Dr. Irons? ...Anybody?"

"HiCanIhelpyou?" A teenage girl suddenly springs out from behind the receptionist's desk, having apparently been picking up so dropped paperwork and startling me to no end.

"GAH!" I push my glasses back up and try to regain my composure. I am definitely not used to people being able to catch me by surprise like that, mostly because I'm accustomed to hearing a person coming from a mile away.

"Wow, sorry about that. I didn't mean to scare you. Maybe try switching to decaf?" That might actually be a good idea, now that I think about it. "Anyway, sorry about the mess. We're kind of in an all-hands-on-deck mode around here. Have you heard that that Parasite thing robbed a bank? The guy literally just walked right in and took everything."

Actually, I had indeed heard about that. And that was only the first bank that Jones had robbed today. Since that time, he's hit two more locations, but news of those incidents might not have reached this girl yet, considering how busy she's apparently been around here. Still, I at least take some measure of solace in the fact that the Parasite hasn't killed anyone else yet. No one --not even the police-- has been able to even slow Jones down so far, so he hasn't needed to resort to using lethal force to get what he wants yet, thank God. Still, considering the casual nature with which he seems to view the notion of killing someone, as he did with Hellgrammite, I imagine that it's only a matter of time until the bodycount starts rising.

"That's actually what I'm here for. I have to talk to Dr. Irons immediately. It's urgent news regarding the Parasite and Superman."

The girl takes a quick look at the computer monitor at her desk. "Uncle John's barricaded himself in his lab to try to come up with a solution to the Parasite problem." Okay, so she's John Henry's niece. He's mentioned her before, describing her as taking after him pretty strongly and wanting to walk in his footsteps.

"He hasn't considered fighting the Parasite himself?"

"Not without a plan, no. Sure, his armor's tough, but that freak can still probably tear right through it."

"Well, I think that I might be able to help with that. Or at least provide some insight."

"So, Natasha says that you apparently have some important information for me regarding the Parasite, Mr. Kent?" Partially suited up in his astonishing armor, Dr. Irons steps forward and shakes my hand as I walk into the room. After waiting outside of his lab for a few minutes and refusing to disclose my information to John Henry's niece, I can imagine that he's pretty eager to see if I have anything of value to say, or if I'm just wasting his time.

"I know that you must have had your fill of journalists trying to get an exclusive with you and your recent induction into the Justice League. After all, you're now the only member whose civilian identity is public knowledge." I can already see the look in his eyes. He thinks I weaseled my way in here for a quote. You're not off to a good start, Clark. "But. That is not what I'm here for, Dr. Irons. Now," I instinctively pause and look around the lab for any eavesdroppers, momentarily forgetting that my eyes and ears aren't quite what they used to be anymore, "I know that I can trust you, but you have to understand that this information does not leave this room."

An understandably skeptic John Henry doesn't reply for a few moments before finally shaking my hand in agreement. "Okay. You have my word."

In what I'm sure must have felt like an eternity to Steel, I take a deep breath and remove my glasses and unbutton my shirt, revealing my uniform beneath.

"I'm Superman and I need your help."

"...Glasses? Well, now I feel like an idiot."

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Oswald walks through The Iceberg Lounge as the work crews continue repairing the damage as he carries his L-Pad.

He hears what they are telling him and he nods every so often and offers his comments here and there. Purely small talk.

Oswald manages to slip into his secret conference room and stares at the empty chairs.

A room where so many plans were made, where men and women plotted against the city government, and where deception was also practiced.

Oswald sees that the bar is still intact and fixes himself a drink.

He raises his glass and says, 'To one and all. It could've been glorious."

He takes a drink and sets his glass down.

Oswald opens up his L-Pad and begins checking his shipments.

He smiles for the first time in months and says, "More guns are getting ready to hit the streets in Metropolis. I'll take my victories where I can get them."

Oswald takes another drink and sees himself in the mirror.

He says, "Welcome back."

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Kent and Rhiannon are having breakfast at the Bagel Hut.

Rhiannon asks while sipping her Chai-Latte, "So what do you got on your planner today?"

Kent replies, "Respond to e-mails, get ready to teach the second summer session, and hopefully squeeze in a little time patrolling the city. You?"

Rhiannon shrugs her shoulders and says, "I don't know yet. Maybe head off to the Hall and see what else I can come up with concerning Lex maybe try to slip into LexCorp and poke around."

Kent says, "Rhiannon don't mess with Lex. He's expecting you now to show up. Let the others know what's going on besides leaving it as a journal entry. Let it go before you do something you regret like blowing up a Government facility."

Rhiannon says, "I don't regret that in the least Kent, but you're right I won't try to tangle with Lex alone again. I promise."

Kent says, "Good. I love you and I gotta get to the office. Dinner tonight at 5 at the Pasta House?"

Rhiannon nods and says, "Sounds good to me. I love you too."

The two kiss and Kent leaves.

Rhiannon finishes her breakfast and heads off to the back-alley. She transforms into The Atom and takes flight.

Well since I can't go bother Lex let's see what other kinds of trouble The Atom can get into...for now

 

[Batman]

The Falcone Shipping Yard. Seemed like the best place to start.

Even when he was still incarcerated, The Roman's hold over Gotham didn't seem to relent, and the prescence of these docks were proof positive of that. Secretly trafficking wholesale shipments of drugs and weapons onto the black market, their unorthodox business practices were well hidden by a variety of subsidiary companies that the old man had acquired well before any of our times. In truth, behind Bruce Wayne, Carmine Falcone might aswell be the richest man in Gotham. The only difference being that his fortune was built on the backs of a legion of corpses rather than technological advancements. The irony of what I'm about to do tonight doesn't escape me, as I watch the men at work who're unloading the shipments that had just arrived by boat out from the Capullo River. Most are in the process of repackaging the chemical agents that will help their customers create meth, cocaine, heroin, and whatever else they can make with the ingredients that they can get their dirty little paws on. Flooding the streets with death for another season.

They'll have to order themselves another shipment after tonight. Because by the time I'm done, I'll have burned it all to the ground. Literally.

After taking out the patrolmen stationed just outside of the grounds, I begin by climbing up the ladder of the overhead crane that overlooks the docks, securing a position that gives me just enough of an advantage to do this without being seen. Then, wiring up a large duffel bag full of parts, I bring it to the top, unzip the bag, and slowly begin to assemble the contents. Piece after intricate piece are snapped together with brilliant precision, the instructions memorized in the back of my mind. I've never given Waynetech's R&D department enough credit - whenever they want to make weapons, they sure as hell know how. The magnetized inserts to make it all fit together seamlessly were an especially nice touch.

Finally, after less than ten minutes of assembly, I produce the completed product - a triple-pronged RPG-50 with intergrated missile guidance technology put in place of the clutter. It was designed to give suitable infantry to a batallion of less than thirty against hundreds. The rockets split when airbourne, creating projectiles that don't trigger one massive explosion, but a series of small ones that chain together to form a nasty little wall of firepower. I don't intend to kill anyone with it. That'd be too easy. This is merely going to be used as a backdrop. The real fun starts once the confusion has set in, and everyone realizes that I've blocked off any real means of escape.

Placing it over my shoulder, I tap the side of my newly finished helmet. Communications channel opens itself up. "C, this is H. How's your progress?"

She has to pause for a minute before answering.

"As if you'd be anyone else. My progress is that I'm in the middle of doing exactly what we talked about. Just cleared the third checkpoint out of the list of possible hiding spots for our girl. And before you ask, no, there was no sign of her there either."

"Damn. And I here I was, clutched in suspense."

"The important question is whether you're keeping up with your end of the bargain. I just reached the open city, and I really don't want to come across any unsavory gentlemen looking to kill me."

Under the helmet, I give a smirk at that, aligning the launcher with my prime targeted position. Just need to wait a few moments for some of these idiots to walk out of range. Which, if they don't, I'll give them plenty of reason to with the charges that I set up on the other side of the docks.

"I'm about to give your unsavory gentlemen a warm welcoming. Just wanted to make sure you hadn't already screwed this up."

I can practically feel her taking offense.

Good. Makes me feel that much better about throwing myself in the line of fire just to save her ass.

"Hey, here's a thought. Why don't you just focus on not screwing this up yourself?"

"Heh. Kitty's got claws. Alright, I've had my fun. See you on the other side."

"We'll see about that."

The line cuts out, and I bring myself to focus entirely on the matter at hand. None of them have budged in five minutes. By the sixth, I grow a little agitated. They don't want to play along? Fine with me. I reach into my jacket and produce a small remote detonator, capable of reaching a charge more than fifty yards away. I don't need that kind of distance, but the reassurance is nice, as I flip open the cover and jam my thumb on the button.

Showtime.

*F-POOM!*

*F-POOM!*

*F-POOM!*

*F-POOM!*

Several spooked thugs all simultaneously turn to the west corner of the docks, pistols and semi-automatics raised through reflex. Some of them curse up a storm, thrown so badly off guard that they struggle to shug off the fact that most of them jumped at the sound. The closest to the blast radius takes charge, signaling a good fifteen men to flank him as an excessive amount of ordinance. I've already got them paranoid, and all they're gonna find waiting for them is a few burning crates and shrapnel. Better they focus on that than the guy with an RPG aimed right at their supply.

Quickly typing in the guidance commands on the HUD interface that Bruce's team had built into this thing, I confirm the method of attack and crawl my way to the edge of the crane, propping myself up on one knee and holding the weapon in place with both hands. One eye closes, and the other trains itself through the scope. There are at least twenty others that stayed behind and didn't think to go check out the sucession of disturbances that could very well have been police prescence, vigilante interference, or otherwise. Forgive me for not particularly caring about the hell I'm going to put them through.

*PSH-SHOOP!*

The shipping yards light up the night's sky, and most of the twenty go flying in every direction, screaming. The fifteen that went to check out the disturbance that I set up all hear the massive amount of destruction and come running back, but it's far too late to do anything about it. They might aswell be chickens in a slaughterhouse, running around with their heads cut off. As the chaos only escalates with each passing moment, I drop the launcher and rise, unfastening the two holsters strapped to my hips.

Their priorities, meanwhile, seem just as scattered as their friends.

"Jesus! Jesus, what's..."

"Holy... the shipment's going up in flames!"

"What's happening?! Where the hell's..."

"The cops! It has to be the damn cops!"

This is going to be even easier than I thought. Taking a step off of the crane and diving directly into the fray, I perform a somersault through the air and grab the pistols from both hostler, landing just beyond the yard and launching myself off of a tall stack of crates, above their heads. By the time that they get a good look at me, my shiny new outfit's fully illuminated by the fire. The only part that I hope they can really see is the chest.

I know he would've never approved of it, but I didn't add it for him. I'm carrying the mark of the Bat to show them that I'm bringing just as much of the drive, the ruthlessness, and the will that comes with it. And I'm reigning it all of it in against them right here, and right now.

Now all that there's left to do is make this sound convincing. If they feel like I'm doing this to distract them, they'll hesitate to engage. And contrary to any form of sane logic, I wouldn't want that.

"Hey, ***holes! I've got a message for your boss!"

"It goes a little something like this!"

I land amongst a crowd of hired guns, all heavily armed, and give no thought to my own safety as I raise both pistols and click off the respective safety. The faces that they give me in complete shock of the audacity of what I've just done is one that I'm going to savor for the yards to come.

And with a grin hidden behind the red hood, I immediately open fire.

"This just had to be the next stop, didn't it?"

On the other side of Gotham City, chaos of a different sort was beginning to unfold. Tucked away tightly in the air ducts that were overlooking the lobby of Falcone International, a local travel agency that was once outed to house many of The Roman's illegal activities after his arrest, Catwoman was immediately beginning to regret her part in this. Though she understood the need to be thorough with the investigation, the logic of putting herself in such immediate harm's way by sneaking into the business of the man that had put a citywide hit out on her seemed to disappate with each passing second. Surely, even the woman that may have been bold enough to murder The Roman's last living son wouldn't ever dream of coming here, much less leave something behind that Catwoman could use to find her.

But Red Hood had a hunch. If Falcone had moved Mario's corpse from Falcone International, where he reportedly died, to his own home? There was bound to be a trace of what caused the strange and violent reaction. Based on Paula Irving's own ordeal at the Gotham Reservoir, the attack had to have been chemical based, meaning that it had to be put in a drink, or on a paper. Anything that Mario had come into contact with. And on that merit alone, Catwoman had decided to come here and retrieve whatever item illuminated with a foreign chemical under infared scans in her goggles.

Peering out of the vents on the side as he slowly advanced, Selina caught a glimpse of the floor below. Only one person was there, sitting in a chair on the far right, arms folded across his chest and looking as serious as any of Falcone's hired help. Inwardly, she wondered if she even had to worry about getting caught. Looks as if the front lobby's got it's own security guard. Maybe I'll get lucky. Can't be too many of those in the building, right?

Then the front door opened. In a moment of clear surprise, Catwoman crawled further ahead and realigned her point of view to see who it was. The security guard stationed at the far right looked to see aswell, and instantly flashed a smile, getting to his feet. The man approaching him was Nathan Gambol, a regular associate of Falcone's in recent months.

Selina could have died. The situation had just worsened. It was one thing to engage a couple of watchdogs, it was another entirely to alert one of the city's premiere mobsters to her prescence and allow him to bring even more heat down upon her. The security guard held out his arms in a brotherly fashion, evidently on friendly terms with Gambol.

"Gambol! Man, I was beginnin' to wonder if you'd ever come back after what---"

That was, at least, until Gambol reached into his jacket, pulled out a revolver, and pressed it hard against the man's chest. Before he could even react, a loud shot rang out in the lobby, and Catwoman was forced to watch in horror as an explosion of blood coated the floors, matting the corpse as it dropped. Gambol seemed to stare out into space as he still held the weapon firmly in his hand, slowly walking forward as if he were in a bizarre trance. Selina had to muffle the vocalization of her own bewilderment, watching him advance.

What the hell was THAT?!

Deciding not to wait around to chance getting some answers, Catwoman placed both boots hard against the vent and pressed it open, leaving any further thought of stealth behind. Grabbing the whip attached to her belt, she pushed herself out of the vent and dove straight towards the ground, landing with a handstand flip. Gambol was easily within the viscinity of hearing her land, but didn't seem to acknowledge her prescence as she produced the whip and let it crack.

"Hey, murderer! I'm as pissed off at these goons as anyone, but do you mind telling me where the hell that came from?!"

No response. Gambol didn't even turn to face her, seemingly lost in what he'd done. Or maybe it was something else. Even seeing him approach the guard, Catwoman had noticed something strange about him. His eyes were wide, his pupils evidently dilluted. It was like he was on some sort of heavy narcotic. But if that had drove him to needlessly kill a man in the lobby of the city's worst mobster, it had to be one hell of a narcotic.

"Oh, you did not just walk away from me after a stunt like that..."

*CRACK!*

Instantly, Gambol found his head ensnared in the coil of the leather whip, yanked backwards by a hard tug. The gun fell from his hand, but he nevertheless didn't think to fight it, acting as if he were still walking. Catwoman grunted, pulling him even closer with each tug of the whip.

"Whatever you're on, handsome, you better be able to feel what I'm about to do to you."

What she didn't notice was what approached from behind her, entering the lobby silently from the outside. A freely flowing, thickened plant that danced along the open air, growing closer to the oblivious Catwoman as she grabbed the back of Gambol's collar.

Her search for Paula Irving was about to come to an abrupt end.

 

[Batman]

Ah, bloody hell.

With everything that has happened, I am beginning to realize just how difficult it has always been to keep a level head in the midst of times like these. Juggling commitments and engagements that Mr. Wayne had scheduled nearly a year in advance, the part I most feared, has proven to be only a small fraction of it. After unintentionally discovering his detailed plans for this once-mysterious "Priority Eight" countermeasure through Oracle, any attempt of getting into contact with the party most capable of enacting Bruce's intricate design become rather - shall we say, unfruitful. And worse still, I am growing increasingly worried that he cannot come to depend on the person to carry these plans forth at all. Should that be the case, the future of Gotham is only going to become ever more uncertain.

And yet in the midst of things, this is not even my most primary concern anymore. It seems when all has presented itself and given one the time needed to assess the situation, there is always going to be something much worse waiting just beyond. And it did. For the last few days, Harriet and I have become aware that Master Dick is missing. I filed a missing persons report with the police yesterday, per her request, but my faith in their ability to follow through with such a task remains shrouded in skepticism. From what I know of their corruption, they would gladly look the other way before the thought of doing anything would cross their feeble minds.

It's hardly a wonder that this city's best representation of hope was a masked vigilante.

But I suppose that is why I've chosen to seek out the only place where I can truly find solace, these days - I need the time to think. To plan with a cleansed mind and an even clearer outlook, tending to the one responsibility that I've come to regard most seriously - remaining at the bedside of my friend. My brother. For if I'm to find Master Dick, wherever he may be, I'm in need to be reminded of the man that would tirelessly scour the ends of the earth for him. Since he cannot, I need to be able to grasp at that same sort of strength.

The elevator door to Gotham General opens, and I step out into the main hall. Bruce's room is isolated off at the end, which has been a location that has been plenty troublesome in trying to ward off wandering eyes. Some people would do anything to get a photo, or report a sighting. Such is the droll call of celebrity.

As I approach the room, however, carrying the books I intended to read to him aloud - I was told they were some of his childhood favorites, apparently - something catches me off completely off guard. For once, I am not Mr. Wayne's only visitor. A rather tall individual stands in the middle of the doorway, back turned to the hall. Even without seeing his face, I can confidently say that I've never met the man. But I am about to.

"Excuse me,", I call out, getting his attention. "Forgive my ignorance, sir, but I'm afraid I don't know you. I am Mr. Wayne's personal assistant. Are you a friend of his?"

 

[Byrd Man]

Previously

Spoiler

Castle Dubrinsky
10:34 PM

The imposing Castle Dubrinsky sat nestled in the rocky cliffs and bluffs of the Carpathians. The only way in and out the front gate was a narrow, winding that curled up the mountain. At this moment, a line of cars were crawling up the road towards the castle gates. On a bluff a kilometer away, Rick Flag watched the scene through a pair of night vision binoculars. The rest of the Suicide Squad were gathered behind him.

"About a dozen cars coming up the road. The plates on the car imply their rentals."

"Must be our VIPs," Bronze Tiger said from the side. "That means we got about a half hour to get into position before they start the auction."

"Okay, Sweet," Flag said, turning to their guide, Skinner Sweet. "Where's this secret entrance of yours?"

"Off to the side there, right under the road."

"Lawton, what do you see?"

Deadshot held up his sniper rifle and switched the scope over to night vision. "I see two mooks near the entrance. Guards."

"Dammit. They must have gotten wise since I was here."

"I got a clear shot from here..."

"No. Eve," Flag said, turning to Nightshade. "We need to shadow walk. You up for it?"

"I can do it," she said, dark energy flowing from her fingertips.

Sweet watched the energy dance around her fingers before he looked up at Nightshade and flashed her a smile."Well now, little lady, what's the story behind that?"

"I could show you the truth," Nightshade said calmly. "But it would cause your feeble brains to leak out from your ears."

"Always was up for a little foreplay," Sweet said with a wink.

"Eve, ready?"

She nodded. Suddenly, the six members of the Suicide Squad were cover by Nightshade's dark energy. Their bodies faded from sight, only their shadows remaining.

*****

The air inside the castle's wine cellar stirred slightly. The cellar's dusty shelves stirred as six long shadows fell on the floor. The owners of the shadow could not be seen. Slowly, the members of the Suicide Squad came into view inside the cellar.

"Alright," Flag said, slinging his assault rifle from his shoulder. "Ben, you, Lawton, and Vertigo are on demo duty. Set the C4 charges in key points inside the castle. Lawton and Sweet, you're on me. We're ambushing the auction. Let's move out."

Flag, Sweet, and Deadshot headed left towards the cellar steps while Bronze Tiger and his squad headed right towards the archway that led deeper into the castle.

Flag walked point through the stone corridors of the castle, the M4 in his hands. Sweet walked behind him, while Lawton brought up the rear. "Where's your guns?" Lawton asked Sweet. "Figures a guy like you likes to pack."

"Oh, I pack alright," Sweet said with a smirk. "Just not a pistol... Well, I do pack a pistol. But not that kinda pistol."

"Probably more like a squirtgun."

"Your momma didn't complain last night..."

"Focus," Flag said with a scowl. "And maintain silence. Talk again, and I'll--"

A hissing noise cut through the darkness. A figure pounced on Flag from the shadows, slamming him against the stone wall. A tall, balding man barred his razor-sharp fangs at Flag. Flag struggled against the man's strong grip, fighting fruitlessly against his powerful embrace. The monster went in for the kill, moving his teeth towards Flag's neck. Suddenly, he stopped. Razor sharp claws dug into the man's back and caused him to snarl in pain. He dropped Flag and turned to his attacker.

Before the man could respond, Sweet flicked his wrist and disemboweled the man in one swift move with his claws. The man fell to his knees and Sweet slid his claws across the man's neck, slicing his head from his body. Laughing and licking the blood from his fingers, Sweet turned to the shocked Flag and Deadshot.

"Well?" He asked, staring at the two men in his monstrous form. "The **** are you boys waiting for? Let's go kill some more goddamn vampires."
​

Castle Dubrinsky
10:45 PM

The Bronze Tiger lead Nightshade and Count Vertigo through the catacombs below the ancient Romanian castle. They had pistols in one hand, flashlights in the other. Vertigo had a bag slung on his shoulder, inside of it was at least two dozen explosive devices.

"Alright, start placing the charges," Turner said, shining his light over the dusty walls. "You still got the map, Vertigo?"

"Of course," the Valatvian noble turned criminal said. He pulled a handheld device from his pocket. It showed a layout of the catacombs and the weak spots in the castle foundation. "Flag said just a few charges in key spots will be more than enough to bring the castle down."

"Let's use them all," Turner said with a smirk. "Overkill is underrated."

*****

Rick Flag, Deadshot, and Skinner Sweet were pressed against a wall. Sweet was in front, his claws still out. "Why the **** didn't Waller tell us about this?" Lawton asked Flag.

"Because who the hell would believe her if she told you what we were really facing?"

"You and I fought a giant woman in South Africa, and Nighthade is some sort of shadow monster thing. Compared to that, what the hell difference are vampires gonna make?"

"Keep it down," Sweet hissed. "Someone's coming."

Further down the corridor, a lone figure walked in the shadows towards them. "Soon as he see us, he's gonna be on us."

"I got 'em," Lawton said, aiming with his left gauntlet. The gun cracked and sent the sentry down to the ground. A moment later, he rose, his eyes fiery-red. "****..."

The vampire charged towards them. Sweet stood up, baring his fangs and claws. The two vampire collided and rolled across the hallway floor. The two undead creatures fought and struggled against each other. Flag pulled his pistol from the holster and shot point-blank. The wooden bullet struck the vampire attacker in the head, causing a blood-curdling scream to emit from his mouth. Smoke poured out of the open wound as he fell back to the ground. Dead.

"That's why I said use wooden bullets, Lawton."

"Nice shot," Sweet said, standing and wiping the blood from his shirt.

"So, what's your deal, Sweet? Why are you helping us to kill your own kind?"

"They ain't my kind. I'm what a buncha smartass scientist call Homo Abominum Americana. An American Vampire. These ***holes are the ones who turned me into what I am. A monster."

"Revenge? I can admire that."

"Whatever it is, we need to move. The whole damn castle probably heard our shots. They'll be on us in a minute."

Sweet smirked, flashing his claws. "Good. Let me give 'em a taste of what I can do."

*****
​

In the catacombs, Vertigo and Bronze Tiger were attaching C4 charges to spots in the foundation while Nightshade walked around, keeping an eye out for anybody else.

"Try to hurry up, please," she said back towards the two men. "I'm getting an uneasy feeling..."

"Almost done, Eve," Turner called back. He slapped a charge to a wooden support beam and set it to blow.

Nightshade shined her flashlight on a secluded part in the catacomb, away room the rest of the beams and structures. There was a group of nearly a half dozen coffins stacked against the wall, all their doors were swung open.

"No," Eve said under her breath. "Not them..."

In the darkness around her, red eyes blinked into view. First a pair, then two, then four, and then eight.

"Ben," she called back, dropping her flashlight. Her hands lit up with dark energy as eight vampires pounced at her in the darkness. "RUN!"
​

 

[Spike_x1]

The elevator door to Gotham General opens, and I step out into the main hall. Bruce's room is isolated off at the end, which has been a location that has been plenty troublesome in trying to ward off wandering eyes. Some people would do anything to get a photo, or report a sighting. Such is the droll call of celebrity.

As I approach the room, however, carrying the books I intended to read to him aloud - I was told they were some of his childhood favorites, apparently - something catches me off completely off guard. For once, I am not Mr. Wayne's only visitor. A rather tall individual stands in the middle of the doorway, back turned to the hall. Even without seeing his face, I can confidently say that I've never met the man. But I am about to.

"Excuse me,", I call out, getting his attention. "Forgive my ignorance, sir, but I'm afraid I don't know you. I am Mr. Wayne's personal assistant. Are you a friend of his?"

I know that voice. "In a manner of speaking, perhaps." I turn around to meet the expected sight of Alfred Jarvis. The bruises that I gave him have healed well.

Some small part in the back of my mind tells me that I should have avoided allowing Wayne's friend to see my face at all costs, in the strong chance that he recognizes me, but I cannot quite bring myself to truly care about such trivialities any longer. My anonymity has been an asset from the first day that I stepped onto Gotham's putrid soil, but perhaps Wayne and the assistant that I beat into unconsciousness on the night of my failure deserve to finally put a face to the man who has brought such misery into their lives.

"He and I had business together that concluded shortly before..." I gesture widely to the sad sight of the hospital room as a whole, "all of this."

Taking one last moment to wallow in my own sense of defeat, my arms collapse back to my side. "It was quite taxing on us both, as I am certain you can understand. Nevertheless, Mister Wayne and I had gotten to know one another quite well over the past year."

I know for a fact that there is a distinct air of menace in my voice when the Batman's name escapes my lips. As much as my better judgement tells me to bury it, my rage at the situation overwhelms and betrays the truths that I would do better to hide altogether from Mr. Jarvis.

 

[Eddie Brock]

"Unngghh..."

Okay, from now on, no more getting involved in this kind of business as Oliver Queen. I feel incredibly stupid. Here I was, trying to do things the "easy" way, trying to avoid the violence... but these people? They only respond to violence. I would've been better served spending my time putting arrows through their legs than trying to weasel my way in as Oliver Queen. After all, isn't that why I created an alter ego in the first place? To avoid situations like this?

My carelessness this time nearly got me killed. If Hackett's syringe had contained anything other than a sedative, I'd be dead. Simple as that. All my hard work, everything Green Arrow has accomplished, undone by a little needle prick. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Okay, Ollie. There will be time for self-chastisement later. You're not out of the woods yet.

It takes me a few minutes to get my bearings once the sedative wears off. First, I rouse to a head-splitting migraine. Then, to make matters worse, my vision is slow to return. Total blackness is replaced by unintelligible blurring before I'm finally able to make out shapes once more. When I do, I realize just how much trouble I'm in.

The rusty metal pipes, the industrial grating walkways, the red overhead lighting. And as if all that wasn't enough to identify my location, there's the telltale creaking and groaning every few seconds. I'm on-board the Pacific Queen, and she's set sail.

So, that was Hackett's great mercy, was it? Rather than simply killing me, he's shipping me off to some unknown Pacific island to serve out my days picking opium as a Triad slave. Well, I have no plans to let that happen. Unfortunately, I don't know how long I've been unconscious - or how long this ship has been in motion. For all I know, I could be in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, far from rescue or safety.

I'll never know anything if I don't break free of these restraints. Fortunately, Hackett's men have underestimated me. In addition to leaving me unguarded, they've simply handcuffed me behind a pipe. Unfortunately, I don't have anything on me which can pick the lock. I'd rather not break my thumbs since I still need to get past the Triad crew somehow. That leaves me with only one option.

"Hnnggh!"

I throw my weight forward. The chain on the handcuff rattles. I repeat the process again... and again... and again, figuring that either the handcuffs or the pipe will have to give eventually. After about ten minutes of that, I dislodge the pipe. From there, it's a simple matter of lifting the handcuffs up and over the opening. Next, I twist my legs over my wrists so that my hands are in front of me, still cuffed.

Alright. What's your play?

A big ship like this probably has a crew in the twenties, and seeing as they're Triads I'm willing to bet that some of them are probably armed. Without any of my equipment, I can't hope to subdue all of them - no matter how stealthy I am about it. And even if I did, that'd still leave me drifting on a container ship in the Pacific Ocean. I can't simply turn it around because I don't know where I am, and reading oceanographic maps isn't one of my strong suits.

So what's my play? Get to the bridge. Send out a distress call to the Coast Guard, the Navy, whoever's out there. Then, simply bide my time until help arrives. Easier said than done, I know. Taking the bridge means at least taking out the captain somehow and whatever men I encounter along the way. Still, it's not like I have options, and every minute I waste is another minute I drift off to sea while China White strangles Star City in my absence.

First thing's first, though. I need to find the guy who has the key to my handcuffs...
​

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Oswald strolls through his private aviary feeling alive and joyful for the first time since the "accident" on his estate grounds.

His L-Phone rings and he sees that it's Bruno Mannheim.

Oswald says, "Bruno my dear boy how's the city of Metropolis?"

Mannheim replies, "Nothing to complain about Oswald. Hey thanks again for the guns. They're being filtered out through various networks of mine we're starting to see some intersting results. Great job as always Penguin."

Oswald says, "Excellent to hear my friend, but I know you well enough that you rarely do social calls what's on your mind?"

Mannheim replies, "Well Oswald I am currently getting ready to venture into a new enterprise it's called Intergang. Several of the local crime bosses are on board, but there are those who are somewhat leary about an enterprise such as this. You did such an effective job of uniting the current bosses under your umbrella as it were until the recent accident I was hoping you might look over my operation and give some guidance."

Oswald chuckles and says, "Bruno you are giving me far too much credit I've had some good fortune along the way but it hasn't all gone smoothly."

Bruno replies, "True but more has certainly gone right than wrong for you."

Oswald says, "Point to you my friend. All-right I'll come to Metropolis and take a look around."

Bruno says, "Great! How about dinner at my club say tonight around 5 and we'll catch a Cobras game later on. I got box-seats and the Yankees are in town."

Oswald says, "Looking forward to it. I'll be enroute in the next two hours."

Bruno replies, "All-right I'll have a limo at the airport waiting to pick you up."

Oswald says, "I'll see you then. Goodbye Bruno."

He hangs up the phone and heads back to the main house.

Yes yes time to get back to work. If this network works out for me taking over Wayne Enterprises might go a little smoother.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Rhiannon sits in front of her computer at work going over her syllabus for the fall semester.

Okay let's see 4 exams, 1 final exam, and 1 major project equals a lot of grading for me. Gotta cut back on this otherwise my sanity and I could end up parting company. Maybe I'll make it the students either do the project or the final exam and leave it up to them. I could do that I....

Just then her phone rings and she sees it's Pete Ross calling.

Rhiannon answers, "Hey Pete."

Pete asks, "Are you busy?"

Rhiannon replies, "Not really just fine tuning my syllabus for the fall. What's on your mind?"

Pete says, "I need to see your alter-ego a-s-a-p. This is big-time."

Rhiannon says, "I'm on my way."

Rhiannon calls Kent to break their date. She tells she is being called out of town for a potential Justice League situation and she will contact him if she needs help.

Once she hangs up she transfoms into The Atom and then calls Pete's office as she hangs up the phone and she rides the signal to Pete's office.

The Atom emerges from the phone and grows back to 6 inches. She sits on a paper-weight and asks, "What do you need Pete?"

Pete places a folder in front of Atom and asks, "What do you know about a group called the Dueling Serpents?"

Atom replies, "Not much more than anyone else does. A radical group borderlining cult that seems to believe it knows when the end of the world is coming about. Been a lot more vocal with the rise of The Legion of Doom. Pretty harmless stuff from what I know."

Pete says, "That's what I used to think, but that all changed a couple of days ago."

Pete opens the folder and there is a photo of someone shot up almost beyond recognition.

The Atom looks at the photo. She then looks at Pete and says, "This goes beyond harmless."

Pete says, "I agree. We had an agent on the inside to keep tabs on things. Metro PD found the body on the outskirts of town. They estimate he's been dead for about two days. My questions is where did they get the guns and what are they doing with them?"

Atom replies, "No offense Pete but it isn't that hard to get a gun of any kind now a days."

Pete says, "None taken and in most cases I would agree, but my questions are how did a 2nd rate Manson family get their hands on that kind of firepower with no discernable means of income, and why do they have them? I mean Atom they pulled several armor piercing rounds out of our agent, and ballistics indicate these came from high-quality weapons. In the past this group would barely be able to get a 38 special, and suddenly they can get automatics. Something is wrong and it needs to stop before it gets out of hand and innocents are harmed. "

Atom asks, "Okay where do I come in?"

Pete replies, "I need you to do some recon. We can't send in another agent they're on the lookout for us now. I need you to slip in and find out any info you can and get back to me."

Atom says, "All-right Pete you've done a lot for me this is the least I can do. How do I get started?"

Pete says, "For starters this goes way beyond anything I've done for you. This one could get you killed and if it does your mom is gonna nail me to the wall for bringing you in, but the situation right now is going from bad to worse with each passing day. In terms of getting started there's a group handing out leaflets and acting nuts in Centennial Park right now. Get down there and when their van shows up hop in and go from there."

Atom nods and says, "Okay Pete I'm on my way just dial up an express line for me."

Pete says, "Sure thing Atom. Be careful and if things start get to rough find a way out a-s-a-p and I'll take it from there. Try to keep in touch."

Pete dials the number of a nearby pizza parlor and Atom rides the signal.

She emerges from the phone and heads over to the park. The Atom then takes a position in a tree near the group.

Great now I get to watch a group that makes the Addams Family look normal. Hope this is worth breaking a date for.

 

[Batman]

I know that voice. "In a manner of speaking, perhaps." I turn around to meet the expected sight of Alfred Jarvis. The bruises that I gave him have healed well.

"He and I had business together that concluded shortly before..." I gesture widely to the sad sight of the hospital room as a whole, "all of this."

Taking one last moment to wallow in my own sense of defeat, my arms collapse back to my side. "It was quite taxing on us both, as I am certain you can understand. Nevertheless, Mister Wayne and I had gotten to know one another quite well over the past year."

"Ah. So I see..."

There is an underlying sense of something that I cannot place, whenever this man speaks to me. It leaves me positively unnerved, and I cannot for the life of me deduce why. For all intents and purposes, his claims could be genuine. While I did handle most of Mr. Wayne's business appointments, very few of them have I ever met in person. That was always Mr. Wayne's responsibility, and my own interaction was always rather limited to telephone conversations and scheduling between third-parties.

Yet whenever I look him up and down, what I do not see is the sort of man that one would typically imagine as the CEO of any corporation. He is careful not to look me in the eye. His prescence is withdrawn. His voice, while substantially calm, dictates something more behind it's tone.

"Well, as you can no doubt tell, Mr. Wayne is regrettably in no condition to conduct any further business. If you'd like, however, I could redirect you to one of Waynetech's many associates. I'm quite positive they'd be happy to persue anything further, in the interest of my client."

This man is hiding something.

And the more that I try to deceipher what it is, the less that I can bring myself to ignore a sense that is beginning to overcome me...

A sense of dread.

 

[Spike_x1]

"As much as I would like to seek out such alternatives, Mr. Jarvis, I did not come here in the pursuit of my business with Wayne." Looking down to my hands, I find my fists clenched tightly. Am I really so set in my ways that simply being in Wayne and his assistant's presence is enough to set me so on edge?

Relaxing myself, my fists ease open and I turn to look back at Wayne, resting in bed and safe from harm. "I actually came here for guidance, if you can believe it." My arms cross in front of my chest and something approximating a smile creeps onto my face. "Heh." A laugh? "Wayne and I traveled in the same circle, although at crucially different times, and knew the same people. It was too late when I finally came to understand this, but many of the same forces that shaped him have also left their mark in me. For better and for worse."

What resembled that slight smile on my lips vanishes. "He and I are not as different as I had originally believed, and perhaps that is what gnaws at me. I thought that I had been born better, a sentiment that was only exacerbated by his theft of something that was rightfully mine." The facade of civility for the sake of Jarvis has washed away, and I look down to the man standing in front of me.

"I have proven myself better than Wayne in every possible way, yet he is the man with friends. Family. The comfort of knowing that angels watch over him. Rewards that I will never know."

One final look over my shoulder back to Wayne resting in his bed. "If our roles were reversed, and I were the one lying helpless in a hospital, I wonder if he would see fit to descend from his ivory tower and visit me, another thug taken off the Gotham City streets."

 

[Saved]

Larfleeze
Agent Orange ​

After using the orange impurity to kill his rogue partner, Blooch, Larfleeze was expelled from the Lantern Corps and exiled on the prison planet of Ysmault. After decades of keeping it concealed, Larfleeze activated the lost ring of his mentor,Gretti and became Agent Orange. Now, Larfleeze wanders Ysmault; absorbing other prisoners and exiles along the way as he grows his Orange Lantern Corps for the coming War of Light.

Previously

Ysmault

Sinestro stands in the middle of an entourage of Lantern Corpsmen; two green and one blue. Ahead of them, the outlines of orange monsters and killers run toward them. In their wake they leave a trail of orange and red dust serving as an omen of the destruction their presence brings.

The Green Lanterns tremble as their minds run with fear of the unknown army approaching. "What is that?!" The Blue Lantern yells as he balls his fist, his aura glowing stronger.

"I ... I can't make it out. It's a battalion. Twenty men, maybe more."
"But of what?"

Sinestro smiles. "I'd recognize that design anywhere. The precision to detail and anatomical structure. Only two Lanterns I've ever seen exhibit this sense of ... accuracy." The exile turns to his captures and grins maliciously. "Your green light stands no chance against these impurities."

The larger lantern snarls, "Shut up!" He shouts as he swings his arm to slap Sinestro. Suddenly, a bright flash glistens - temporarily blinding the group. As the Lantern opens his eyes, he sees a yellow lasso wrapped rightly around his wrist. Sinestro's eyes twinkle as his mustache curls atop his lip.

"What - What IS this?!" He asks as he tries to pull his arm free from the yellow snare. He turns his head and follows the rope back to its source. To his surprise, he sees the construct protruding from the ring of the other Green Lantern in the group. The Lantern sneers in anger as his eyes narrow with precision. "Amkuu?"

[Power levels at 76%.] ​

"What're you doing!" The Blue Lantern says, sweat running down his forehead. Amkuu grins as the rest of his aura shifts from green to yellow with frightening speed.

"Tell me ... do 'you feel afraid?"

[Power levels at 81%.]​

"Watch carefully, Lanterns. This is the end of the Corps as you know it."

Amkuu flexes his forearm sending spikes of golden sheen through the green and blue lantern's chests. Their body's twitch and twinge as the blood drips down their uniforms, staining the fabric in crimson glory. As their eyes roll back, the constructs fade out, and the bodies drop to the dry, desert floor.

"And the beginning of a new age." Sinestro turns to Amkuu as the green cuffs around his arms dissipate into nothing. "Good work, young one. I wasn't sure how much longer you'd keep up this farce."

"Apologies, sir. I was waiting for the opportune moment."
"Of course."

Lantern 4523 deceased. Scan for replacement sentient.
Lantern 2142 deceased. Scan for replacement sentient.

Sinestro closes his eyes and calms his body; a long sigh exhales from his nostrils. As the rings slip off the dead men, they rise into the air and hover for only a moment.

New sentient found.
New sentient found.

The rings zip through the arid air and slide effortlessly onto each of Sinestro's ring fingers.

Welcome to the Lantern Corp, Lantern 4523.
Welcome to the Lantern Corp, Lantern 2142.

Emerald light en-capsules Sinestro's form, and the Lantern shield returns to his chest.

"It's good to be back," he snickers evily. "Now, for a minor adjustment." The light around his body flickers and the color changes into a new wavelength. Before long, the entire uniform has been altered- changed into something more fitting Sinestro's current thoughts and ideals.

"Much better. "Wasting no time, he turns himself to face the coming horde of orange adversaries growing closer by the second.
"Sinestro, my master, should we flee?"
""Run? Why would we ever do something as cowardly as that? No. I have a much better idea." "

Sinestro walks ahead, stepping closer toward the coming threat. Fearlessly, he stands his ground; his chin stays raised and his arms remain freely held behind his back. With his last step, he stops and stands firm. "Larfleeze! "He shouts, his voice echoing throughout the emptiness. "Is this how you greet the great Sinestro? With constructs of defilers and villains!? Come and face me, you greedy craven! "

Suddenly, the constructs slow down and come to an abrupt halt. They stand at the perimeter of the turf and keep their pupil-less eyes fixed on Sinestro and Amkuu.

Time passes and the soldiers remain motionless; statues fixated in their footsteps. Amkuu grows restless, and airs his worries. "What're they doing?"
"Patience, " he scolds.

The sky above quickly darkens. A thick haze grows in the atmosphere, and orange lightening shoots through the horizon. A glowing figure emerges from behind the jagged mountains. The light emanating from his figure is brighter than any Lantern previously seen. As he approaches, saliva of amber color drips fiercely from his tusks. A wild look in his eye shines through his irises.

"Who is tha-"
"SILENCE. " Sinestro growls, his eyes remaining focused on the approaching entity.

Powerlevels at 2828%

"Sinestro!" He growls, his voice thunderous like a supernova. "It's been a while ... "

"Not nearly long enough. "
"Hmpf. Cocky as ever. But, it's not all bad. I can use your pride ... in MY CORPS!"

 

[Batman]

"Oh, and what do we have here?"

Catwoman was taken agasp by the sudden surprise of her entrapment in the thick, wild vine that was dragging her body backward without any sense of restraint. Feeling her feet ascend off of the ground, she violently grabbed and struggled at the plants with desperation, her mind scattered and fleeting at the idea of her predicament. The claws outfitted on the tip of her gloves were unsheathed, and she dug them hard into whatever was wrapping itself tighter around her neck, but it was no use. The metal split, leaving her with no defense. And with a violent yank, she was rendered unable to keep ahold of the whip that was still wrapped around Nathan Gambol's face.

Can't... breathe... it's not... letting... go...

Forcefully spun around in mid-air and made to be propped up by her neck, Selina's legs begin to thrash, but the plant only reacted by squeezing. She cried out in pain, feeling as if her neck nearly snapped as a result, but her voice couldn't escape her throat. But it didn't stop her from peering ahead to the entrance of the building, where a lone woman stood, rising into the air on a rigid, rapidly broadening tree branch. Her haircolor immistakably red, her skin a pale but vibrant white. And her eyes glowing the brightest green, even in the darkness.

The good news. Selina had finally managed to find Paula Irving.

The bad news was that she had found Selina first.

"Hmm. I wonder if I've caught one of those meddlesome vigilantes that the papers keep talking about. Perhaps I should turn you into the police? I would so love to see if they'd be willing to give me a reward..."

Feeling herself being pulled closer, Selina started to beat on the plant with one free hand. The woman glared at her, disapprovingly, and held out her hand towards it.

"Now, now. Don't resort to violence. Taking it out on this innocent thing is no way to conduct yourself. Though, I suppose your species has a habit of doing that..."

Gritting her teeth, Irving closed her fist tightly, and Selina's eyes widened as she felt the vine grow tighter with it. In one last act of a desperate measure, she swung her waist back and forth, propelling her body up higher with each swing.

"...taking things out on smaller creatures."

To both Paula and Selina's surprise, she managed to swing herself so high that both legs could wrap themselves around the plant that was trying to strangle her. Reaching into her belt, even as she felt herself begin to pass out, the accomplished thief produced a glass cutter and clumsily stabbed at the stalk. Amazingly, this seemed to work, as the plant reacted with manic movement, gradually freeing Catwoman's neck from it's grip and allowing her to kick off of the plant and backflip away, landing just beyond and struggling for breath.

"Wow, what a victory that was."

Catwoman's eyes widened as she saw the massive plant rise up and barrel towards her with frightening speed. She tried to dive out of the way, but the plant struck her hard across the side, sending her flying across the room and directly into a brochere display. Selina's head hit the back of the wall, causing only further disorientation.

"No, really, I'm impressed. I'd sure hate to know what else you've got up your sleeve."

Feeling something else wrap around her ankle, Catwoman's short-lived episode of physical misery only worsened with the thought of enduring another toss like that, so to feel herself be ripped from the ground and suspended upside down was an unwelcome surprise. Irving floated over on the branch, effortlessly stepping onto the narrow points with ease and smiling at her captive.

"Anything else you want to throw at me, while you're at it? I could use the entertainment."

Catwoman sneered, despite the overwhelming circumstances.

"Y'know, for a dead woman, you really can't seem to shut up."

The woman's bemused look turned into a blank expression, suddenly lost for words by something Selina had said.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Fighting off the accompanied discomfort as the blood began rushing to her head, Selina grabbed at the vine and tried to pull herself upright to no avail, dangling freely from the ceiling. Nevertheless, she tried to keep Irving distracted while she thought of a way out of this.

"Irving, right? Paula Irving. You're the woman that got caught up in the chemical attack at Gothcorp a few years ago."

Irving took in the claim and met them with a light laugh, with which the plants responded by wrapping themselves tighter around the ankle, crawling up Selina's leg like a swarm of ravenous spiders.

"Oh, I think I understand. You're not only a pathetic sight to behold, but a delusional one, aswell. I've never heard of this 'Irving' woman, nor do I care why you'd associate me with her."

Catwoman could only imagine the possibilities of what spurned on this denial. Could she be telling the truth, and Red Hood's investigation had been proven false? Was she saving face? Or was she really Paula Irving, so traumatized by what had happened to her that she had lost all sense of her own identity? The questions only seemed to pile up by the minute, and she didn't have that long before her entire body would become secured in a tight web of vines.

"Look, whether or not you're actually her, you're obviously the person I'm looking for. And truth be told, I have no problem with what you're doing. Kill these bastards, I don't care. They're nothing to me. It's the part where you decided to kill Mario Falcone that's given me an issue to resolve."

"Oh, so someone pieced that part together, at least. And just who do I have to thank for that? The police? The Roman? Judging from your ridiculous attire, I'd say that The Batman is a more accurate assumption."

Brought to eye level with her, Catwoman ripped away at the vines before they could reach her waist, but they only continued to grow.

"Since you don't seem to be particularly clever enough to have done it yourself, which is it? I'd like to know where to send your remains, gift-wrapped in pieces and seasoned with a lovely set of spores."

"Lady, I'd like to see you---"

What terrified her was when two seperate strands of vines lurched up to her face, and slowly began to dart for her agape mouth. Selina ducked and tried to move away, but they kept coming. Eventually they grabbed at her cheeks, extending to the point where they could reach down towards the mouth. Eventually, she had suffered all that she could stand, and frightfully pleaded with the .

"NO! OH, GOD, CALL THEM OFF! CALL THEM OFF!"

"Call them off? But they're just children. And they seem to be having such fun..."

"Why would I ever want to get in the way of that?"

The vines joined together and created a thick stem, going onto dig itself into Selina's mouth and plunge into her throat, causing her to visibly panick as she shook with fright. After a few moments, her body began to grow limp as she felt the vines secrete something that burned inside of her lungs, causing a subsequent paralysis.

The last sound that Catwoman could hear was the horrible laugh that Poison Ivy gave before the growing vines covered the lenses of her goggles. She didn't know what was inside of her, and she didn't want to wait to find out what it would become. All that she knew was that she wanted it out right now.

Before the answer would present itself.

*BRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKA!*

"Gotta try harder than that, boys!"

The plan's working like a charm. Hell, even better than I'd hoped. Whenever I decided to take on the Roman's men head-on, I did so with a pretty specific purpose - and judging from the reaction of the runners, who're too busy dodging gunfire in the midst of screaming expletives into walkie talkies, I'd all but succeeded. Scare up a few of the the leftovers with a mindless, directionless frontal assault, and they'll call in more men to deal with the crazy guy in the mask, shooting up their suppliers.

*BRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKA!*

Of course, I'm not actually shooting to kill anyone. I may be crazy, but I'm not a monster. The shots I take are mostly to the limbs. A couple of shoulder grazings, a few in the forearms, even cut the top of a guy's ear. I keep track of each and every shot, just to make sure that I don't screw it up. Even made sure to replace all of the lead bullets with specialized hardened ballistics. Hurts a hell of alot more than rubber, and deals only a fraction of the damage. These guys should consider themselves lucky that I was in such a generous mood.

*BLAM!*

The shooting spree is short lived, however, as one manages to catch me in the chest. The bullet creates a spark, and it sends me stumbling back, but the armor holds up rather well. I'm actually starting to rethink my policy on a low-tech outlet. Bruce has got some damn good people working at R&D. Maybe I'll put some of this to good use, since he's not going to be using it.

"Oh, c'mon! You really call that a shot?! I've taken worse from the Skeevers crew!"

A few of them move through the crates to scavenge up a decent vantage point, but I'm already ontop of them by the time that they've peeked around to try and fire off a few rounds. However, in my haste, I actually don't take their reflexes into account, as they all turn to fire at me in quick succession. Realizing my error, I tumble through the shipping yard and fire off a few retaliation rounds from a vertical angle.

*BLAM!* *BLAM!*

"Sure, now you gain a sense of depth! At point blank range!"

"WASTE THE FREAK!"

Aha. They're getting angrier. Good, because that leaves them a pretty wide margin for error. Kicking off of a nearby crate, I vault towards them and absorb some of the fire off of the suit. It's covering me head-to-toe, so I'm hardly worried about a couple of knicks. What they should be worried about is the flash grenade that I slip out of my pocket, roll into my palm, and drop right ontop of them as I perform a somersault above.

"Fire in the hole!"

Blinding white light pops into the skies, and they all shield themselves from it instantaneously. As they all scramble to try and get as far away from the blast as possible, I pick them off one at a time, firing the rounds into their backs, ankles, and calves, knocking more than a few of them off of their feet. What I don't see is the guy that sneaks up behind me in the midst of it, silently armed with a crowbar. But I hear it snap off of the newly reinforced helmet, causing a bit of a shift, but little else. No real sort of impact.

I look back, and he's dumbstruck, staring down at the crowbar in his hands before looking up at me.

"Uh, I... I didn't mean..."

"Lemme guess. Bad vibrations?"

Without a second's hesitation, I pistol whip the idiot across the face and kick him hard in the chest, sending him away. By the time that I've turned back around, the others have recovered from the flash grenade, turning their sights towards me and loading their weapons. I raise my own pistols and draw. Guess I've got a little bit of a ways to go in the department of terrorizing these-

*SNPP!*

Before I can even blink, one of them falls over, a steaming entry wound coming out of the side of his head. My eyes widen under the helmet, unsure of how to react to the man's sudden death infront of me. The others notice too, and begin to look at eachother in confusion.

*SNPP!* *SNPP!*

Two more drop, the second's head exploding in a river of blood. At this point, the others don't even begin to question what's happening, hurriedly going directly for cover and leaving me with nothing to shoot. It's a sniper. And a good one, at that, given that it usually takes at least a good thirty seconds to line up a shot in succession. This guy took out two thugs in the space of seconds.

Who would...

"You'll forgive me for the intrusion on your misconstruted little power play..."

I turn and see the last person that I expected to see tonight standing above me, smoking gun in one hand, the dismembered head of one of Falcone's lieutenants in the other. Neither of which really fill me with the greatest confidence. I haven't seen him since Gar Logan and I ran him out of Gotham, but it seems he's decided to pay me a follow-up visitation.

How lucky for me.

"Or was I interrupting?"

 

[Batman]

"As much as I would like to seek out such alternatives, Mr. Jarvis, I did not come here in the pursuit of my business with Wayne." Looking down to my hands, I find my fists clenched tightly. Am I really so set in my ways that simply being in Wayne and his assistant's presence is enough to set me so on edge?

Relaxing myself, my fists ease open and I turn to look back at Wayne, resting in bed and safe from harm. "I actually came here for guidance, if you can believe it." My arms cross in front of my chest and something approximating a smile creeps onto my face. "Heh." A laugh? "Wayne and I traveled in the same circle, although at crucially different times, and knew the same people. It was too late when I finally came to understand this, but many of the same forces that shaped him have also left their mark in me. For better and for worse."

What resembled that slight smile on my lips vanishes. "He and I are not as different as I had originally believed, and perhaps that is what gnaws at me. I thought that I had been born better, a sentiment that was only exacerbated by his theft of something that was rightfully mine." The facade of civility for the sake of Jarvis has washed away, and I look down to the man standing in front of me.

"I have proven myself better than Wayne in every possible way, yet he is the man with friends. Family. The comfort of knowing that angels watch over him. Rewards that I will never know."

One final look over my shoulder back to Wayne resting in his bed. "If our roles were reversed, and I were the one lying helpless in a hospital, I wonder if he would see fit to descend from his ivory tower and visit me, another thug taken off the Gotham City streets."

With the stories that he tells, he easily confirms my worst suspicions: under whatever context he may have wanted me to believe his visit may have been, it was a ruse. His true intentions do not seem to be particularly malicious, given that he was here at least several minutes before I was. Infact, he seemed to be leaving. And yet from what I can tell, thankfully, as I glance past his massive frame, no harm has come Bruce. But he nevertheless speaks of him with disdain, almost bitterness - as if he were one of this man's greatest enemies. To think that someone with such hatred for him would come here, at all places, and seem to take no true joy out of his predicament is quite...

Familiar.

Good heavens.

It's him.

The man in the mask. The one that broke into our home, attacked me, and put Mr. Wayne in that hospital bed. His voice may have been muffled, but I can tell that even the accent seems to fit together perfectled with our discreet assailant. If he had truly succeeded in his mission that terrible night, I know for a fact that Bruce would have never survived.

And after all the damage that he has done, he's come here. To visit the victim of his unfathomable agression. And the worst part is, whenever the realization dawns on me and I stare back with blank eyes, transfixed by the surreal nature of this encounter... there isn't a part of me that knows what I can do about it. I could easily call the police. Or alert security. But if that night proved anything, it is that he carries with him Mr. Wayne's greatest secret. And I can only imagine how long it would inevitably take before he would be tempted to reveal it to those who'd seek to only inflict further affliction.

Aside from this, I can't allow him further to endanger Mr. Wayne on a physical level. He is beyond vulnerable in his current state, and any sudden outburst or incident would only jeapordize any chance of a recovery. If I am to remove him from harm, I must go about this as civilly as possible.

"I... I believe I understand now, sir."

My hands are trembling, even if he cannot see it. This is a man that once pummelled me into submission and forced me to watch my best friend mercilessly beaten. He destroyed my home. My work. In some ways my life, aswell as Mr. Wayne's. And because of him, Gotham's true protector may never again roam the night.

I must be strong. I must.

"But if you're really looking for guidance, I fail to see how you would find it here. So with all due respect, if we can avoid any further unpleasantness... please leave."

 

[Andy C.]

"Something isn't right," I say to myself as I watch a projected image of a tank being pulled apart by unseen hands. On the monitor, Psimon cracks a satisfied grin.

I've been going over archival footage of our mentor team in the HIVE training programs; Psimon, Jinx, Gizmo, Shimmer, and Mammoth. The recording I'm watching is from last year, the team's record-setting run on the urban combat mission.

"Hitting the books, huh, red-bird?" Arsenal sneers as he struts into the video library. "Afraid Cerberus Squad is gonna trounce the teeny tiny Titans again?"

Arsenal's a pompous jerk, but he's incredibly good. Hand-to-hand I've been able to beat him, but at ranged combat he's got me completely outclassed. In the time trials Titan Squad has outscored Cerberus, but in head-to-head competition, it's even at best. Not one of us has even been able to make that girl Artemis break a sweat; the way she fights is unreal.

But it's not having to compete with Cerberus again that's got me frowning. It's not even Arsenal's obnoxious taunting. As Jinx gleefully vaporizes an android soldier on the screen, I finally get what's wrong with the picture.

"There are no civilians," I say, zooming the virtual camera out for a wider look at the simulated battlefield as Mammoth brings down an enemy fortification.

"What's that?" Arsenal asks.

"The training course," I say, gesturing to the screen. "It's supposed to be a 100% realistic simulation of combat in an urban environment. The buildings, the rubble, the confusion, the room-to-room fighting, all of it. Supposed to be completely accurate to the real deal, right?"

"Yeah? So?"

"So where are all the civilians we're supposed to be protecting?" I ask.

Arsenal throws up his hands in a shrug.

"I dunno, maybe the mission briefing assumes the civilians have all been evacuated," he says.

"The training parameters specify we're the first force in to engage the op-for," I counter. "And this isn't just some random configuration of buildings, either--I've looked at the maps. The street this is based on is in the capital city of Pokolistan."

On the screen, Shimmer turns the air around an unmanned helicopter into acid. The chopper smokes and sputters before it spins out of control and slams into a large concrete building--a hotel, according to the real-world map.

"And it's not just this level," I point out. "The subterranean maneuvers exercise matches the subway system in London. Assault on Advanced Fortifications matches the Kremlin. VIP Targeting and Neutralization? Matches Capitol Hill. Densely populated capital cities, and the only people we're supposed to see are targets."

"You're being paranoid, Robin," Arsenal says, not sounding entirely like he believes it. "The HIVE is about peace-keeping. I mean, yeah, we spend a lot of time learning to fight, but it's about fighting the bad guys."

On screen, Gizmo hacks into a mechanized battle-suit and has it open fire on its own squad.

"I looked at the Final Exam," I say, then cut him off before he can interrupt. "I know, I know, it's supposed to be absolutely classified. I'm very good with computers. I was able to see what the final combat training exercise is supposed to be, the 'bad guys' we're supposed to fight."

"....yeah?"

"The exercise uses augmented reality imaging and controlled massive environmental effects.....to simulate a to-the-death battle with the Justice League."

On the monitor, Psimon laughs as he lets out a psychic pulse wave that flattens an entire city block.

******

"Azerath......Metreon......Zinthos......"

Raven chanted an incantation as she sat cross-legged in the center of her room, a complex geometric symbol drawn in lines of salt within a perfect circle around her.

Hermetic magic was easy as long as one knew how to draw, and Rachel had been an artist for as long as she could remember. The main seal surrounding it, enhanced with lesser sigils along the outer ring and inner lines, could be drawn by anyone, but it took an incredible amount of focus to give them any effect. Of course, being allegedly fathered by a demon didn't hurt in that respect.

The raw power she had wielded against Brother Blood was immense, but Raven already knew it wouldn't be enough next time. Her training sessions with Jinx were eye-opening about how little she really knew about her abilities. By focusing her mystic potential through rituals and incantations, she honed that power into specific and refined purposes.

Anger boiled up inside of Rachel, nearly ruining her meditation. Brother Blood was still out there, still determined to use her as his 'bride of blood' in some obscene ritual for her father. She was lucky Dick was there for her the first time.

Next time, though, she would be ready......and she would annihilate Brother Blood into nothing.

"Azerath........Metreon.......Zinthos......" Raven repeated, taking deep breaths to calm herself down.

Different spells required different rituals, depending on the desired effect and the specific school of mysticism. Some required chanting of words in ancient languages. Some required material components mixed into an alchemical tincture or potion. Some required use of enchanted items that Raven had no access to at the moment. Some required physical motion, dances and gyrations that Rachel wouldn't be caught dead doing even if she was positive no one was looking.

The spell she was working was one from her father's spellbook, enhanced with Hermetic sigils. It would temporarily transmute her physical form into a metaphysical essence, greatly enhancing her abilities by tapping into the purest form of her 'soul self.'

"Azerath....Met--AAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

A wave of crippling pain shot through Raven's body, and the pale dark-haired girl's eyes snapped open as she fell spasming to the floor. For a moment, she lay there shaking and gasping for breath, until the shock wore off. It felt like she had run headlong into a wall.

"What.....what was....." she said in between breaths before sitting up, fury boiling inside her as she realized what had happened. "Jinx."

Weaving magic left marks on the mystical aether between worlds, each unique to the caster, like the signature of an artist. Or rather, more like a mental fingerprint, as vestiges of emotion and intent remained on the spell. In the split-second that Raven's spiritual form collided with the disruption barrier, a field of magic-cancelling magic, she knew that Jinx had put it there, to keep Raven from her true potential, to keep her weakened for the HIVE's associates......


*********


Kori'andr walked casually through high vaulted arches of violet stone, the air sweet and heady with the aromas of summer on her home world. In the center foyer she approached, there was a pond of bright green liquids, on the surface of which floated dozens of lily-white ceramic bowls, which let out a melodic chime every time two of them touched. It was tranquil and beautiful, and most importantly, familiar and safe.

While Starfire lay still in her bed on an alien world, she walked the grounds of her family's palace in her mind. It was a soothing way to relax after another stressful day of training, not to mention her inability to cope with the way humans related to each other. She worried she would never understand why Earth-people masked their deeper emotions rather than share them.

On top of that, strolling through her mind-palace was also a way of inspecting her mental defenses. Tamaranians were a mildly psychic race, able to share in each other's thoughts when in direct contact with each other. And so to protect important information and resist telepathic control, the royal family learned to construct mental barriers for themselves, fortresses and labyrinths in the subconscious mind. The human telepath Psimon had incapacitated her at first because she did not know Earth-people were capable of this, and thus her defenses were lowered.

It would not happen again.

"What is this?" Kori'andr asked no one in particular as she rounded a corner and found herself staring at a wall. "This should not be here."

She had paced the grounds of her mind-palace a thousand times. She knew every inch of it, down to the exact color of the vegetation depending on the time of year. This corridor should lead to her sister's room.....Kom'andr, the disgraced and traitorous Blackfire. This room was where Kori locked away her most painful memories.

"This is not good," Starfire said to herself, taking to the air and flitting through the hallways towards the main gates. "I must tell the others of this!"

The details of her mental palace had been changed without her knowing.

Psimon, or the Queen Bee herself, was tampering with their minds.


**********

"And so I told Icicle, 'don't you know? Polar bears love ice!" Changeling said, barely holding in his laughter.

"Uh-huh," said Cyborg, testily, as he calibrated the metacarpal actuators on his right hand.

"C'mon, that was funny, you've gotta laugh," the grin-skinned boy said. "Or do you just not have a sense of humor?"

"Well, one of us doesn't, that's for sure," Cyborg said, opening and closing his hand to get used to the adjustments.

"Heyyy!" said Changeling. "I thought you couldn't--"

*BOOOOOM!*

Changeling quickly shifted to a fly and zipped to the far side of the room as the ceiling came crashing down on them. Cyborg, for his part, stood steady as a rock and swatted away the debris that fell on him.

As sirens began to sound, a figure floated down from the hole in the ceiling. She was a slim but muscular blonde-haired girl, her arms crossed and a look of determined anger on her face.

"The name's Donna," she said to Cyborg and Changeling. "Tell me where they're keeping Artemis, or I'm going to start hurting people."

 

[Spike_x1]

With the stories that he tells, he easily confirms my worst suspicions: under whatever context he may have wanted me to believe his visit may have been, it was a ruse. His true intentions do not seem to be particularly malicious, given that he was here at least several minutes before I was. Infact, he seemed to be leaving. And yet from what I can tell, thankfully, as I glance past his massive frame, no harm has come Bruce. But he nevertheless speaks of him with disdain, almost bitterness - as if he were one of this man's greatest enemies. To think that someone with such hatred for him would come here, at all places, and seem to take no true joy out of his predicament is quite...

Familiar.

Good heavens.

It's him.

The man in the mask. The one that broke into our home, attacked me, and put Mr. Wayne in that hospital bed. His voice may have been muffled, but I can tell that even the accent seems to fit together perfectled with our discreet assailant. If he had truly succeeded in his mission that terrible night, I know for a fact that Bruce would have never survived.

And after all the damage that he has done, he's come here. To visit the victim of his unfathomable agression. And the worst part is, whenever the realization dawns on me and I stare back with blank eyes, transfixed by the surreal nature of this encounter... there isn't a part of me that knows what I can do about it. I could easily call the police. Or alert security. But if that night proved anything, it is that he carries with him Mr. Wayne's greatest secret. And I can only imagine how long it would inevitably take before he would be tempted to reveal it to those who'd seek to only inflict further affliction.

Aside from this, I can't allow him further to endanger Mr. Wayne on a physical level. He is beyond vulnerable in his current state, and any sudden outburst or incident would only jeapordize any chance of a recovery. If I am to remove him from harm, I must go about this as civilly as possible.

"I... I believe I understand now, sir."

My hands are trembling, even if he cannot see it. This is a man that once pummelled me into submission and forced me to watch my best friend mercilessly beaten. He destroyed my home. My work. In some ways my life, aswell as Mr. Wayne's. And because of him, Gotham's true protector may never again roam the night.

I must be strong. I must.

"But if you're really looking for guidance, I fail to see how you would find it here. So with all due respect, if we can avoid any further unpleasantness... please leave."

I can see a bead of sweat rolling down the side of Alfred Jarvis' face as he politely asks for my departure. "More than any other man alive, your Mister Wayne has earned something akin to respect from me, albeit in a manner that I doubt many people would understand. Perhaps, in a roundabout way, you have as well."

I should kill them both right here and now. He's seen my face.

"Forgive me, I am... conflicted as of late. You are correct, of course. I should take my leave." Stepping aside to allow me to pass him and head out the doorway, the smaller man maintains eye contact, but without as much struggle as one would assume. For as much fear as I provoke in the man, he possesses impressive character to not back down. "However," I pause in the doorway and turn back to look at him again. "If anyone can return from such a horrific defeat, I believe that it would be Wayne. When he wakes up, tell him..."

Am I sorry, or do I merely hate the pointlessness of it all?

"Even I have my regrets at times."

With that, I take my exit and make for the stairway. I will need to meditate on recent matters, now more than ever.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Oswald and Bruno watch The Metropolis Cobras batting in the bottom of the 4th trailing the Yankees 4-2.

Bruno asks, "So you read over my purposal and you've seen my concept for Intergang what do you think Oswald?"

Oswald replies while focused on the game, "Impressive first steps, but to make this work there's still a lot left for you to plan out my friend."

Bruno asks, "Such as?"

Oswald looks at him and says, "You need a legitimate business front, and since you have a dubious reputation, you'll need someone to be the pubic face of your business front. You also need to recognize who is going to stay with you all the way, and how do you deal with those who will betray you. Betrayl is a constant factor in our line of work"

Bruno nods and says, "Points taken Oswald."

Oswald says, "Also you have 2 X Factors one could either work for or against you and another that is firmly against you."

Bruno asks, "And what is that?"

Oswald takes a drink from his scotch and then he says, "While Bruce Wayne is the prince of Gotham, he is out of action for a while and I've been able to manuver pretty freely without having him as competition. There have also been several would be costumed freaks trying to fill the void of Batman and rather poorly I might add. You on the other hand have Lex Luthor to deal with. He runs this city who knows how he'll greet your concept, and then there is an overgrown boy-scout in blue tights. Superman is not going to take your challenge laying down, and he isn't someone you can just brush aside."

Bruno nods as he watches Hank Pomerroy belt a two run shot to left.

Bruno says, "Oh yes! Nice shot Pommeroy! Tie Game! So can I count on you for help?"

Oswald applauds the homer and replies, "I'll help where I can but my primary focus is Gotham and Wayne Enterprises. I've no wish to deal with Luthor or Superman. I've supplied you with guns and other items and advice but that's as far as I'll go at this time."

Bruno says, "Fair enough."

The two men nod at each other to acknowledge that this part of the trip is at an end as they settle in to enjoy the rest of the game.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

The Atom is hiding under the seat in a van full of Dueling Serpent members.

So far the only thing I've learned is that these people need to learn how to clean out under their van seats, and that they really do believe in their concept of the end of days being here. They also keep singing praises to someone called The One and from what I understand they'll follow her to the gates of hell and back. I know a few things about cults from that semester I took sociology...hope I remember it all.

She is now holding onto the springs under the seat as the van goes over a rocky road.

Not to mention someone calling themselves The One? I'm jealous I thought I was The One! Well at least I was during my time as Lady Rhiannon. Doubt that counts.

The van finally stops and everyone gets out as The Atom escapes through the AC system.

She sees everyone going over to large building and follows them.

Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to be a lot of fun? I gave up a date with Kent for this? I've been on this assignment for only a couple of hours and I'm already regretting it.

The Atom is now inside what used to be school auditorium and she floats to the balcony. She finds a crack in the wall and shrinks slightly smaller. As she takes refuge inside it someone walks on stage dressed in long flowing robes.

Okay not exactly the Ritz, but it should do for now. I doubt this is The One, no one is going instantly silent.

The guy on stage says, "My brothers and sisters. Today has been a most joyus day. We are recruiting more to our cause, more un-believers have been dealt with, we are blessed with more gifts to further our cause and yes The One wishes to convey her joy personally."

The One Being pleased. Why does that make me feel very uneasy?

He says, "And now I present to you The One!"

Just then there is a huge plume of smoke and light and suddenly a woman in long flowing red robes appears before the crowd. The room is filled with people rushing to the stage as the woman in the robes touches as many as she can and motions for everyone to sit.

She says, "Greetings my brothers and sisters. As Brother Eli has said I EncantaDora am most pleased with you all."

The smoke and lights oh super. I liked it better when I saw it in Vegas as part of the Blue-Man Group.

Encantadora says, "Now I...."

She pauses and says, "I sense a non-believer among us. She is near."

EncantaDora snaps her fingers, points to 3 armed guards and says leaving the stage, "Let us find her. She is here among us. I sense her!"

The Atom floats out of the crack and starts to go to the roof.

She has to have some kind of motion sensor. The only way she could've found me. Then again how did she know my gender. I...

Just then she feels an orb encase her and she floats to EncantaDora who says with a smile, "Well well well what have we here a spy? Or perhaps a new convert?"

The Atom backs away within the orb.

Uh-Oh I'm in trouble again. I hope Kent can sense me being trouble otherwise I'm screwed.

 

[Saved]

Batgirl
3.9 ​

Hi. Welcome back to the escapades of my life as Batgirl. Things are normally a disturbing mess as it is; but today you're in for a lucky treat. Today's the day I live my own personal hell.

Arkham Asylum

I watch as the brittle black mask collapses to the floor, revealing the visage of my father. "Hello, Barbara," he says gruffly. "Or do you only go by Batgirl now?" He draws his firearm and aims it for my chest. The set up for a three point shot, just as the academy trained him.

"Dad, I-"
"Stop, Barbara. Just stop. I know we've had our differences. You haven't agreed with me on much, if anything at all. But, I still held out hope that, deep down, you had respect for me."

"B-But, dad, I... I do," I say, a tear beginning to roll down my cheek.
"A vigilante? All you've seen, all I've taught you and said, and you STILL become a vigilante?"
"And a liar," a new voice speaks. I turn my head to see Renee Montoya draw her gun.

"That's all you are, Barbara. A liar. You lied to me, you lied to your father, and the worst part is that you lied to yourself. You're no hero. Think of all the chaos that's come because of your actions. More and more criminals are dressing up in costumes everyday thanks to vigilantes like you. Sickos and psychotics allowing their twisted dreams to become a reality. You're just contributing to the madness."

"No, Renee. She's become it."

I slump to my knees, my arms dangling freely at my sides. A whimper expels from my lips and I feel my stomach ache. "I'm ... I'm so sorry," I say with regret. "I never wanted to lie to you. To let you down or hurt anyone. I ... I just wanted to ... to help."

"And you did," a voice from behind speaks. I feel a strong hand grab my shoulder, rubbing it firmly but gently.

"Don't listen to them, kid. They don't understand. They don't know all the good we've done together. All the lives we've saved that they couldn't."

"Get away from her, you freak!" My father shouts as he slips the saftey off his weapon.

Jason suddenly draws his pistols in the blink of an eye. Like a skilled marksmen he lines up the barrels straight for the heads of my father and guardian.

"I don't think so. You see, Commissioner, you've done a real terrible job raising this girl. In fact, I've been doing it for the last two years. You lost the right to control her life a long time ago."

My father's eyes narrow, and his mustache ruffles. "Get away from my daughter ... or I promise you I won't let you leave here alive."

"PLEASE!" I shout, tears streaming down my face. "STOP THIS! I'll go in," I cry, tearing the mask from my face. "I'll go in without a fight! Just, please, end this now!"

"I intend to."

As I turn my head, I hear the guns unload their rounds. Gunfire errupts from all around me as I fail to discover which side shot first. Flashes and smoke fill the air, and the horrifying sounds of death echo in the rafters. As the dust clears, I look around me to see the bodies of my father, Renee, and Jason all lying on the ground. They are covered in blood and riddled with holes - their lifeless eyes looking up at me with haunting twinkles.

"NO!" I scream. "NO!" I grab my clothes and tear at them viciously in lament. As I drop to the ground sobbing, I rip and tug at my hair in both anger and sorrow. "Not my family. Not all of them, no ... please no."

The sound of footsteps draw my attention. As I look up, I see a figure emerge from the shadows and approach me. His presence is commanding, his demeanor intimidating. As I stare into his snow white eyes, I feel a cold shiver run through my skeleton.

"What have you done?"

"Batman," I start, my voice hoarse from the tears. I wave my hands feverously, "I didn't mean to- I swear to you, I didn't mean for any of this!"

He stays silent. His eyes shorten as his eyebrows bend into a sneer behind his cowl.

"You've got to believe me, I didn't want this! I only wanted to help!"
"I knew you weren't ready," he growls.
"Please," I tell him, my voice cracking. "It's all my fault..."

"No. It's mine. Mine for letting you run wild in MY city." He grunts in disappointment. "You're no better than the criminals you try to stop."

He turns his back and begins to walk away. A chill overcomes me as as he returns to the shadows. "Batman, no ... No, I tried to save them." I reach out to him and grab his cape, tugging tightly. "I wanted to-"

"Get off of me!" He snarls, slapping my arm away and throwing me to my back. He stands over me, blotting out the light behind his wide shoulders. He leans in and stares into my bloodshot eyes. "It should be you lying there; NOT them. If I ever see you in my city again, I promise you it WILL be the last."

He steps back and disappears into the darkness from where he came. As he vanishes, I am left alone among the bodies of my family once more. "No ... " I moan in agony. "NO!" My voice shifts into screaming. Relentless shrieks that rattle the walls.

At the edge of the room, I see a thin figure leaning against the wall. His white teeth appear below his eyes in a twisted smile. "Magnificent," he says to himself with pride.

"W-Who are you," I say in anger. "Who ARE you!" I leap to my feet and rush him, moving with blinding speed. Before he can react, I grab his throat and clench it tightly between my fingers. "You better answer me or I swear I will snap your larynx."

"Nnng ... a-aggression," he wheezes, trying to breathe. "An unforseen *hnngn* side-effect."

A sharp pain unexpectedly arises at the base of my neck. Weakness grips my arms and I release the masked man. I stumble backward as he regains his composure. "Apparently, this dose stimulates the amygdala a little too well. Well noted. Ragdoll," he says, his eyes shifting to focus on someone behind me. "This experiment is over; take care of the sample. Her usefulness is over."

Hands grab my arms and tightly hold me still. My legs tremble from weakness and my vision begins to blur. As I turn my head backward I see the masked face of my attacker.

"Yes, DireCtOr. oF cOuRsE." He thrusts his head forward, knocking into mine with unprecedented force. Almost instantaneously, the blow renders me paralyzed and sends me into unconsciousness. As my eyes blacken, I hear them laugh.

"dIsTuRbEd ChIld." The scarecrow snickers. "sO tRoUbLEd. hOw DePrEsSiNg."

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Oswald boards his private jet as it prepares to take off back to Gotham.

He says to the pilots as he sits down, "Thank you both for taking care of me. My business is now concluded here in Metropolis and there will be a little something extra in you paychecks for taking care of this on such short notice."

The lead pilot says, "Thank you Mr. Cobblepot. We'll be taking off in about 10 minutes. Have you back in Gotham in less than 3 hours."

Oswald says, "Excellent."

He begins to close his eyes and then says, "Would it be too much of an inconvenience for us to head to Central City instead? I realize that you both have families you are anxious to get home to, but I'm looking to check on some of my investments in that area as well. If it's an issue let me know. Otherwise I'll make arrangements for you both at the Hamiltonian, the executive suite of course, and I'll have their on site tailor meet us there so you can have some new clothes. Not to mention some walking around money so you can enjoy yourselves."

The lead pilot says, "Not a problem sir. Just let us call our families and let them know and we'll refile our flight plan we'll be airborne in 20 minutes sir."

Oswald replies, "Excellent please call your families and tell them I'll make it up to them as well. I'll call the Hamiltonian."

 

[MST3K 4ever]

EncantaDora studies The Atom within the orb she says, "You're either brave or very foolish being here. Why are you here?"

The Atom just looks back at her.

EncantaDora says, "You can either tell me willingly or I can extract the information from you in other ways. Ways that I assure you will leave you changed forever. One last time little one; Why are you here?"

The Atom replies, "I'm the curious type. Up until a few days ago you all were seen as nothing more than a harmless nuisance, but then suddenly you all have fire-arms that would make most armies envious, and one of your former members is gunned down."

EncantaDora says, "Ahh we are finally getting the attention of those who are a threat to us. They sent in a Justice Leaguer so we must be doing something right."

The Atom replies, "Breaking the law is a definite way to get my attention. Your beliefs are your own. I can't say I share your point of view, but you killed a man and you're killing others as well. That is something I can't let happen."

EncantaDora looks at The Atom and laughs.

She says, "Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You're not exactly in the position to do anything to stop us at this time."

The Atom says, "That's your mistake. Underestimating me. Don't think because I'm in here that I can't do anything."

With that The Atom shirks to microscopic size and slips in-between the bonds of the orb.

The Atom floats in front EncantaDora and grows back to 6 inches and nails her with a solid right hook.

EncantaDora stumbles back and is severely dazed The Atom floats higher out of reach.

She says, "Oh my you have a glass jaw. It'll make things go a lot easier for me. Give it up!"

EncantaDora's guards try jumping after The Atom who keeps floating away from each one.

EncantaDora is starting to regain her senses and says, [FONT=""Palatino Linotype""]"You pathetic little insect. You dared touch me!"[/FONT]

The Atom says, "Hey now that kind of attitude isn't going to help you at all at Stryker's Island."

EncantaDora points at The Atom and suddenly she is paralyzed.

Uh-oh! This is not going to be good! Note to self next time I have to choose between a C-I-A assignment or a date with Kent pick Kent!

As The Atom begins to fall back to Earth EncantaDora catches her just before she hits the ground.

EncantaDora holds her up and says, "I could've let you hit the ground and shatter into a thousand pieces, but I have so many other ways to make you suffer and I plan on using them all on you."

EncantaDora floats back to the stage and holds up The Atom.

She says, "My brothers and sisters this is the one who dared to defile our presence. She must be taught many lessons, and then she'll be purified so she will be able to join us."