The "Ultimate DC Universe" RPG: Season 2.0

[Apprentice]

​

"I must say, Mr Black," J'onn admitted, his gaze wandering across the deck of the extraordinary aircraft, "this vessel of yours is...intriguing, and impressive." It was a mammoth vehicle, a lumbering metallic beast ploughing through the clouds; coated in an ebony armour, it bore crimson markings upon its skin, the word Leviathan emblazoned upon it like a vicious scar. Black grinned from the command chair he was poised in, although it was almost mirthless; J'onn was immediately aware that he was about to be presented with another assignment to complete.

Black nodded, drawing a lighter from his pocket and casually flicking it open, allowing the flame to eagerly lick the tip of the cigarette protruding from the corner of his mouth. "High praise, coming from you. Want a light?"

J'onn resisted a wince at the slight heat that emanated from the cancerous stick. "I do not smoke."

"'Course." Black rose to his booted feet and inhaled deeply, revelling in the warmth of the cigarette. He shuffled over to the pilot, stationed at the forefront of the bridge, and propped himself up against the chair. Silence presided for only a few moments before he spoke once again. "So, how's your mission in Metropolis progressing?"

J'onn hesitated. "I have been unable to locate Mr Kent as of yet; however, I have only been exploring for two hours. If I had more time -"

"Which you will have. But, for now, we've got someone else for you to hunt down." Black smirked, his dark orbs flitting to J'onn's own. To the Martian, the smile seemed to make the man before him even more sinister. "You're gonna love this one. We couldn't believe it when we found out about him. Guy's been working quietly for years...has barely got a claim to fame, yet from the few small headlines we could find, he seems pretty powerful."

J'onn frowned. If Black had been unaware of the presence of a metahuman, then the one concerned must've been extremely stealthy about his business. "Oh?"

"From what we can tell, he calls himself Captain Marvel. But, if our intel is correct - which it always is - he's currently posing as the mild-mannered Billy Batson, middle-aged nerd." Black folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes. "He's in Metropolis, by 'Davy's Electronics' three blocks away from the LexCorp Tower."

J'onn gathered his cloak around him. "And the same offer is to be extended to him as to the others...?"

Black nodded vigorously.

"Very well, then...but, Black, I must warn you - I wish to see results. If you do not make good on your promise...then you will answer to me." A final, reprimanding glance, and the Manhunter passed through the floor, descending sharply towards the city's spires. He landed in a crouch, and as he rose to his full height, his appearance shifted into that of a human. Davy's Electronics. It was visible from his current position, a small store with televisions crowding the windows. And, sure enough, a forty-something male was poised beside the display.

J'onn stalked forward, pausing beside the supposed hero and reaching out with his mind. ~Billy Batson. I wish to make you an offer...~​

 

[Cyrusbales]

"I must say, Mr Black," J'onn admitted, his gaze wandering across the deck of the extraordinary aircraft, "this vessel of yours is...intriguing, and impressive." It was a mammoth vehicle, a lumbering metallic beast ploughing through the clouds; coated in an ebony armour, it bore crimson markings upon its skin, the word Leviathan emblazoned upon it like a vicious scar. Black grinned from the command chair he was poised in, although it was almost mirthless; J'onn was immediately aware that he was about to be presented with another assignment to complete.​

Black nodded, drawing a lighter from his pocket and casually flicking it open, allowing the flame to eagerly lick the tip of the cigarette protruding from the corner of his mouth. "High praise, coming from you. Want a light?"​

J'onn resisted a wince at the slight heat that emanated from the cancerous stick. "I do not smoke."​

"'Course." Black rose to his booted feet and inhaled deeply, revelling in the warmth of the cigarette. He shuffled over to the pilot, stationed at the forefront of the bridge, and propped himself up against the chair. Silence presided for only a few moments before he spoke once again. "So, how's your mission in Metropolis progressing?"​

J'onn hesitated. "I have been unable to locate Mr Kent as of yet; however, I have only been exploring for two hours. If I had more time -"​

"Which you will have. But, for now, we've got someone else for you to hunt down." Black smirked, his dark orbs flitting to J'onn's own. To the Martian, the smile seemed to make the man before him even more sinister. "You're gonna love this one. We couldn't believe it when we found out about him. Guy's been working quietly for years...has barely got a claim to fame, yet from the few small headlines we could find, he seems pretty powerful."​

J'onn frowned. If Black had been unaware of the presence of a metahuman, then the one concerned must've been extremely stealthy about his business. "Oh?"​

"From what we can tell, he calls himself Captain Marvel. But, if our intel is correct - which it always is - he's currently posing as the mild-mannered Billy Batson, middle-aged nerd." Black folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes. "He's in Metropolis, by 'Davy's Electronics' three blocks away from the LexCorp Tower."​

J'onn gathered his cloak around him. "And the same offer is to be extended to him as to the others...?"​

Black nodded vigorously.​

"Very well, then...but, Black, I must warn you - I wish to see results. If you do not make good on your promise...then you will answer to me." A final, reprimanding glance, and the Manhunter passed through the floor, descending sharply towards the city's spires. He landed in a crouch, and as he rose to his full height, his appearance shifted into that of a human. Davy's Electronics. It was visible from his current position, a small store with televisions crowding the windows. And, sure enough, a forty-something male was poised beside the display.​

J'onn stalked forward, pausing beside the supposed hero and reaching out with his mind. ~Billy Batson. I wish to make you an offer...~​

CAPTAIN MARVEL

A character who automatically arouses Bill's suspicions, fills his vision.

"Billy Batson. I wish to make you an offer..."

Having seen people like this many times before, he knew that this was no ordinary man.

"I'm sorry, I don't need insurance..."

Anything to get rid of this stranger and return things to normality so he can resume his mission. But perhaps this man is one of the people who he had sworn to combat?

 

[Apprentice]

CAPTAIN MARVEL

A character who automatically arouses Bill's suspicions, fills his vision.

"Billy Batson. I wish to make you an offer..."

Having seen people like this many times before, he knew that this was no ordinary man.

"I'm sorry, I don't need insurance..."

Anything to get rid of this stranger and return things to normality so he can resume his mission. But perhaps this man is one of the people who he had sworn to combat?

J'onn stared evenly into the elder man's eyes. It was strange; outward appearances meant so mcuh to many of the globe's population, yet they reflected so little of who the person truly was. Would anyone suspect this man of being a superhuman hero? Still, the primary mystery that clouded J'onn's perceptions was how he had managed to avoid detection for so long. Even Black and his agents had not been fully aware of his existence - that was a feat worthy of J'onn himself, indeed.

Yet he was not paying attention to the Martian Manhunter, despite the touch of telepathy J'onn had used to communicate with him; perhaps he was so accustomed to the abnormal, that it was the opposite to him. Circumstances on Earth were vastly different to those of Mars.

"I am not selling insurance, Billy - or would you prefer Captain Marvel?"

That simply had to catch his focus.

 

[Lord Doom]

Alan Scott awoke to the sound of heavy pounding on his front door.
He slowly rose from his bed, threw on a robe, and headed towards the door.
*THUD THUD THUD!*

"I'm coming, hold your horses!" the old man called.

He appraoched the front door, gripped the nob firmly, and opened the door.
A man, probably in his early fifties, greeted Scott.

"Hey, Alan. You're looking..." He studied Scott briefly. "Um... May I come in?"

Scott wearily pulled the door open and motioned for his old college room-mate, Robert Dickles, to enter.
The place was slightly messy. A small leather sofa rested near the western wall, the kitchen was to the far north, and a small television set was resting across from the sofa. Random news reports flashed across the scree.
Alan Scott ALWAYS kept the TV on the news.

"Why do you watch the news so much, Al?"

Alan stared intently at the screen and said nothing.
A man in blue and white snow gear was seen on the television. He was wanted for theft and murder.

"Captain Cold," Scott replied.

"Who?"

"An old 'friend'. He uses cold-based attacks to defeat his enemies. I'm AMAZED he's still alive..."

"Why? He must be pretty spry if he's a wanted man."

Alan sighed deeply.

"The son-of-a-***** is older than ME."

Robert's eyes widened.

"You're kidding, right?"

Alan Scott sat down on the old leather sofa and sighed once more.

"I've been fighting evil for forty years, Robbie, and I still feel like I haven't accomplished ANYTHING."

Robbie sat next to his best friend. He couldn't STAND seeing him like this. Alan Scott was the greatest hero Robert Dickles had ever known, and he would be DAMNED to see him go down like this.

"Al, you can't fight the battle forever. That's Kyle's job now. Why are you so obsessed with this? Why can't you just accept the fact that Alan Scott's days of battling evil are over?"

Scott quickly lept to his feet.

"NO!I will NOT spend the rest of my life as a defensless old man! I WON'T!"

Robert suddenly looked very worried for his friend.

"Alan, you're SIXTY. How the HELL do you expect to deal with THAT," points at the depiction of a large metallic monster on the television, " at your age?!"

Scott smiles and Robbie looks even more worried.

"I'm going back to the main battery."

Robbie's face twisted in confusion.

"Uhh... Do ya think they'll really just let you waltz towards the main battery like that? I mean, are you sure they won't, I don't know, ARREST YOU ON SIGHT?!"

Scott shrugged his shoulders.

"Only one way to find out. Besides, I'm going to ask them first."

"And if they say no?"

"Then I'll have to find another way..."

"So, you really have no plan at all, do you?"

"Hopefully I won't have to do this alone."

"No offense, but I highly doubt that there's a long line of people willing to break into the Green Lantern Corps."

Alan chuckled.

"Hey, a laugh. Haven't heard one of THOSE in a while."

Scott placed his hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"I'm sure I'll find SOMEBODY who's willing to help out an old fart like me. Look, the reason I called you here is because I need you to watch the house while I'm gone."

"You're REALLY serious about doing this?"

"As a heart attack."

"Well, I guess I can't stop ya."

Scott rose from the sofa and Robbie got up as well.

"Promise me that you'll come back alive, okay?"

Scott nodded.

"Good luck, Alan."

Robbie hugged his dear friend.

"Thanks, Robert... For EVERYTHING."

The two friends broke the hug, exchanged waves, and, as the former Green Lantern walked out the front door, Robert Dickles wondered if he would ever see his best friend again.

 

[Cyrusbales]

J'onn stared evenly into the elder man's eyes. It was strange; outward appearances meant so mcuh to many of the globe's population, yet they reflected so little of who the person truly was. Would anyone suspect this man of being a superhuman hero? Still, the primary mystery that clouded J'onn's perceptions was how he had managed to avoid detection for so long. Even Black and his agents had not been fully aware of his existence - that was a feat worthy of J'onn himself, indeed.

Yet he was not paying attention to the Martian Manhunter, despite the touch of telepathy J'onn had used to communicate with him; perhaps he was so accustomed to the abnormal, that it was the opposite to him. Circumstances on Earth were vastly different to those of Mars.

"I am not selling insurance, Billy - or would you prefer Captain Marvel?"

That simply had to catch his focus.

CAPTAIN MARVEL

Slightly taken aback, Bill doesn't want to give too much away. If this man knew about his identity, he deserved some attention.

"Shall we take a walk?"

Whilst the nature of this man was concerning, Bill was not afraid, no matter how great a threat he could be, he had fought many before.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Ray's smile grows bigger with each passing moment as she frantically continues to set-up her program for her diabetes research project. She pulls out of a lead-lined box a computer "chip" about the size of a 8.5 X 11 peice of paper.

And with this I will show the people here that despite my youth I am just as valuble as they are and even more important those comparisons to Lisa Simpson will stop once and for all. After all I play the Sax WAY better than she ever could dream of.

Ray types on the computer. The computer says, "Firing program on-line awaiting input from remote unit. 3 second delay protocol activated."

She enters a code on the computer and the computer says, "Video recording program activated."

Ray looks slightly startled and says, "Err...hmmm...Hi...Greetings...I mean."

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, then opens them and says, "My name is Dr. Rhiannon Palmer and I am taking the first step in what I hope will be a fruitful journey in helping diabetics live a longer and pain-free life."

Ray pulls out the chip and says, "Using the dwarf-star fragment found by our scientists in Keystone City I will shrink this computer chip down to microscopic size. This chip will then be placed in a pancreas here at Star-Labs and it's progress monitored. In theory what should happen is the chip will stimulate the pancreas to secrete insulin. If the tests here at Star-Labs are successful then within the next year it is our hope to begin human trials."

She puts the chip away and presses two more buttons and the computer says, "Processing chamber video system activated."

Ray then enters another code and says, "With the remote I will be able to fire the laser so I don't have to worry about the time constrant element and make any adjustments during the firing of the laser."

Why is it when I say laser I have the urge to do "air-quotes" like Dr. Evil?

She looks at the camera and says, "Well here goes nothing...or something into near nothng...or...oh forget it."

Ray stands up and enters the processing chamber. She looks at the laser for a moment.

Hard to believe that something that could be so destructive will give hope to so many.

She places the computer processor on a glass targeting chamber. Ray aligns the laser with the remote so it is in alignment with the chip.

Just about perfect now for me to make one more movement to the right and then to move back...

Just then she hears the computer say, "Countdown 3,2,1."

COUNTDOWN....WHAT????

She looks at the remote and sees that her thumb had slid down the remote and pushed the "commit" button. Ray freezes in place

Uh-Oh!

FRAKSHA!!!!

The glowing red beam hits Ray in the chest and she screams, "AHHHHH!!" The pain quickly subsides as she looks around her and sees everything growing bigger in an electric blue aura.

What have I done???? This can't be really happening.

Finally she stops shrinking and see that the room that was once about the size of an average office is now the size of the Grand Canyon. She looks around her and see that the chip is now the size of an Jet fighter.

Terrific not only did I shrink myself but I missed the chip completely while I am giving new meaning to the term little-lady. On the bright side my clothes shrank with me so am not swimming in my clothes. Why couldn't I go out partying like everyone else? Okay new plan not only do I send my high-school science teacher a Christmas card, but a complementary subscription to Match. Com so she can go get a life which is what I'll do when get back to normal size. Well I am not crazy about living life at this size forever.....lucky for me I was holding the remote which has a reverse button on it.

She presses it and nothing happens. She presses it again and nothing happens.

Oh this is not good...the remote must've shorted out when the laser hit it...I have really done it this time....to make it worse all of this is on video too. I have to find away to grow back to 5' 6"...there has to be a way.

Suddenly Ray realizes she is growing back to normal height.

Okay...that was different. I basically willed it to happen...Which makes me wonder...

She concnetrates and suddenly she is shrinking again.

OH WOW! Now let's make sure I can do this again....

Ray then concentrates and sees that she is now back to 5' 6".

WOAH! This is just amazing...

She runs down to the MRI chamber and begins running a battery of exams on herself.

(To be continued)

 

[Mr.Dent]

HeatWave, or, Mick Rory as his real name was, had planned his return to Keystone City.
A couple of break-ins here, a few arsons there, and then he'd just go with the flow, he thought to himself.
He had been waiting just outside of Gotham for almost 2 hours without a single car driving past him, when finally he spotted a quiet little family van, green as grass, driving towards him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe it's showtime."

He wasn't wearing his costume, so this should be two minutes, tops.
He lay down on the middle of the barren road, and pulled from his pocket a small smoke charge, wich immediately released a cloud of black smoke that rose towards the sky.
As the car approached, Rory could distinctly hear a loud, obscene, sickening sound coming from the car.
"Raindrops keep falling on my head" was eminating from the car like an explosion.

"What the..."

The car obviously spotted him on the road, as the driver screeched to a stop a few feet away. Mick could hear the door open and he heard a faint voice.

"--in the car, Sammy, I'll be right back. Sir? Sir, oh boy, Sir? Are you okay?"

The driver took a few steps toward the still body, and when he finally came upon it, kneeled beside it.

"Sir?"
Mick felt the man's hands swipe away the smoke, and his fingers rest on his neck for a couple of seconds.
"You've got a pulse...thank God. I'm going to call 911, alright? Hold on--"
The man reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone.

"911 Operator, what is your emergency?"

"Yes, I--"

Without a moment's hesitation, Mick was on his feet, and with one gloved hand, pulled out a steaming hot steel rod and jammed it in the man's shoulder blade.

"GhYAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

The man fell to his knees and Mick, fast as a forest fire, swept behind him and snapped his neck.
The man slumped to the ground, motionless.

"Sir? Sir, are you okay?"

Mick reached down for the cellphone, and with a mocking voice spoke

"The heat is on, darling. Catch me if you can"

He shut the cellphone off and threw it to the ground. He searched the corpse for any money, found none, and made his way to the car.
He opened the driver's seat door and got in. He noticed a picture on the dashboard, of the recently deceased man on the road, along with a beautiful pregnant woman and a boy that couldn't have been older than 8. They were smiling like they'd just won the lottery, and had a Golden Retriever by their side.

"F***ing hell, it's the Brady Bunch"

"...where's my daddy?"

Mick Rory slowly turned and faced the young boy from the picture, who was sitting in the back seat. He smiled at the young boy.

"Well hi there, little fella! Sammy, is it? Well, look Sammy, I'll be honest with ya, your dad is dead. Yep, stabbed him right in the shoulder and snapped his neck. Honestly, the guy looks like a Pez dispencer. Hey, nono, no crying. I'll make you a deal. You stop crying and I give you a secret gift. Alright? We got a deal?"

The young boy had no idea what the man was talking about, but all he knew is that he saw his dad on the ground in front of the car. At the mention of a secret gift, the boy wiped his nose and nodded.

"You like matches?"

 

[Andy C.]

Brainiac was displeased at how long his flight was delayed. The voyage from Tokyo to Gotham City would take nearly a whole day as it was, and the airline's inefficiency would make it even longer. Granted, he could easily cross the Pacific and the entire American continent in a matter of minutes under his own power, but for now, he needed to keep up appearances. "Milton Fine" was becoming a wanted commodity, and he was not about to jeopardize it yet.

He felt a sudden vibration on his right thigh. Milton Fine's cellular phone was receiving a call.

"Ummm...hello?" he answered, using Fine's voice.

"Hello, is this Professor Milton Fine?"

"Yes. May I ask who is calling?"

"Oh, of course. My name is Ted Kord, founder of Kord Technologies. Maybe you've heard of us?"

Brainiac was silent. Just a week before, Kord's people had hung up on Fine. Now, the company head was begging for him.

"Ummm--*ahem* anyway, I just got wind of your project, and I've gotta say, it's absolutely incredible. I'm talking, maybe a hundred years ahead of the technological curve! I'd like to invite you to come back to the States and meet with us about manufacturing your product."

"Well, I'm not sure," he said, feigning uncertainty. "I mean, I just got a great offer from the Toyman's company, and I'm meeting some of Bruce Wayne's people once I'm back in America, so....

....actually, I'll see if I can hold a conference so everyone can see it at once. Sound fair?"

"Sure, I guess. Can't wait to see it."

"Thank you. I look forward to meeting you, Mister Kord."

He hung up the phone, and grinned smugly to himself. He was well aware that an excitable teenager such as Ichiro Okamura would not be able to keep a secret to himself, and would naturally spread rumors of the device to his contemporaries. Kord Technologies did not have the resources he needed, but it proved that he was getting attention.

Brainiac peered out of the terminal's large window, and saw his plane coming in on the runway.

Everything is going so well...

 

[batnkevlar]

Left elbow to her face: blocked.

Right knee to my testicles: dodged.

Roundhouse kick to my face: direct hit.

I put my knee to the ground and I don't make a sound. No agony, no defeat. My nose bleeds and I don't even bother to wipe it away. Mercy stands above me, holding her bostaff I had knocked out of her hand seconds before.

"Twenty minutes and sixteen seconds," she says, grimly. I look up at her face.

"Next time will be fifteen minutes and a win," I reply. I stand up.

"You realize I'm an Amazon, right? There's no humiliation in losing in a fight to an Amazon," she comments. I grab a towel and wip my sweat and blood.

"I appreciate your training, although I do not believe in that statement. Lex Luthor loses to no man... or woman."

"Glad to know Lex Luthor does not inhabit sexist thoughts."

"Your welcome to know I think of you as an equal. You are the only person in this world that can lay a hand on me and not feel the consequences. You're a lucky one."

"As are you, Lex," she replies, grabbing my drink for me. "To have me as your right hand, with millenia's worth of Amazonian knowledge at your beck and call."

I walk past her and into the elevator.

"Wipe up the blodd from the carpet."

"It's mine as well as yours. Good job."

"Yes indeed, good job, never good luck."

I take the elevator to the rooftop of the building. I've done this once before, this second time is even more comfortable. I flip the switch and the night sky fills with infrared light, not to be seen my the naked human eye. But to a "super eye", it is like fresh paint on the heavenly canvas.

The "S". He'll be here shortly.

 

[Byrd Man]

I close the door to my apartment, lock it, deadbolt it, and put on the chain. I slip my mask off my face and put my trenchcoat and fedora on the coat rack.

"Jesus, kid. You take home security serious."

"You bet your ass."

I turn around and see the dog sitting on my couch, the cigarette still in his mouth.

"Ya got any beers around here?"

"Yeah sure let me go look in the...Hey wait a minute! Your a talking dog."

"There's no fooling you, is there."

He hops off the couch and waddles towards the fridge.

"So what are you? A dog, a robot, an alien? All of the above?"

"None of the above. Ya see, I use to be a human. I was name Boston Brand. I was a guitar player and I was good, damn good. My band was called The Deadmen. We started to play right about the time Judass Priest came out, we played metal and hard rock came close to getting a record deal. One night, after a show this club promoter cheated us outta some money so me and Billy go to get out money when that bastard hauled off and shot me. Died on the spot. But that wasn't the end for me. While on my way to the great gig in the sky, I was stopped and told I was to serve a higher power. I became a spirit of vengence, I was to write the wrongs of premature death. Your my new assignment."

"And how did you do that?"

"God, you ask alot of questions....If you must know. I act like a ghost, I can influence people and move invisible to the human eye. I can also posses people and animals. Hence my caninical apperance."

"But why as a dog? Why not a human?"

"Because you wouldn't have taken me serious if I came to you as a human. But a talking dog will scare you into believing me."

"And what are you suppose to do as my...Guide was it?"

"I've seen the future and great challanges lie ahead. Not just for you, but the whole of humanity. It's my job to make sure you come out unscathed. Believe it or not, your pretty important. So how about those beers?"

He shakes his head and the ashes on his cigarette fall off.

"Sure. I might have to get me one while I'm at it."

Boston follows me tonight as I start my vendetta against the Hub City Police Department.

"So...other than killing bad people...what do you do?"

"Hold up, mister angel of vengence, why don't you know. Aren't you suppose to be all knowing?"

"No, smartass. I just know what my boss tells me."

I hear a buzz and the timer on my oven goes off. I get up off the couch and open the oven door. I put on the oven mits and take a pan out of the hot stove.

"What is that?"

"My mask. I use silly putty and a bunch of other stuff to make it. Then I cook it to make sure it keeps its form."

I reach down and blow on my mask. It'll take a few minutes for it to cool.

"Ahh. Fascinating. So what do you do?"


"If you must know....I write a newsletter. Called Question Authority"

"Okay...What to you write about."

I shake my head and dig into of my drawers. I pull out a crumbled peice of paper and lay it out infront of him.

"Huh...Let's see.....'Martians Invade Earth In Form of Pop Stars'......'New Evidence Shows that 9/11was caused by Sweden'.....'Proof The JSA did exsist'...wow. So your a screwball, eh?"

I look back at him as I pull my tie around my neck and start to tie it.

"No. All that is true. I've got my sources. You have to look between the lines."

After I finish with my tie. I reach for my shoulder holsters and strap them on. Then I sling my trenchcoat on and button it up. By the time I'm back in the kitchen, my mask has cooled and I slip it on my face. I take my fedora off the hatrack and place it on my head. I pull my pistols out for dramatic effect.

"So tell me, how do I look?"

"Like a knock off of The Shadow."

"Good. That's what I was going for. Let's go."

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Ray begins flipping through her test results. Her heart beating so loud and fast with each result it feels as though it may burst right out of her chest.

This is just too wild it seems as though the properties of the Dwarf Star caused my pituitary gland to, for lack of a better term, mutate. I can now shrink and return to normal height at will. This other reading indicates that while I am at my shrunken state I can also shift alter my weight, so that while I am at 6 inches high I can weigh as much as I do normally. Great peice of knowledge there...I even when I am 6 inches tall I still need to lose weight. Now if that true I should also be able to....hmmm it's worth a shot

She puts her papers down and shrinks to 6 inches in height. She shifts her weight and before she knows it Dr. Palmer is floating in the air.

OH YEAH! OH YEAH! I can float and move on the air currents in the room.

Ray begins to float and move freely.

No would ever believe this if I ever told them. Worse I know most of the clowns here at Star-Labs. They find out about this I'll be cut and disected and put on display like some kind of freak. Need to to take care of that right now.

She returns to normal height and makes her way to the CPU center. Ray enters many lines of code until....

Perfect! Now no one will ever know what happened here tonight. Although I do believe that everything happens for a reason. Seems like the more I read today the more there are psychos & criminals running wild. Well maybe it's time for this little lady to get involved.

Ray goes to the warehouse and opens a crate. She pulls out what appears to be a bio-suit.

Yeah I remember this thing. This suit was designed to be work as almost a second skin. The suit cooled the user down when things got too hot and vice versa. It was shock-proof and water proof...it was also way too expensive to mass-produce. But for the newest super-hero on the block it ought to be perfect. It could use a couple of improvements though.

With that Ray turns out the lights and heads for home.

Soon the world will know that...that ....that..aww man I have got to come up with a cool name....Hmmm have to think about that one.
(To be continued)

 

[Lord Doom]

It was a rainy Wednsday afternoon when Alan Scott knocked on Kyle Rayner's front door.

God, I hope I don't regret doing this. He thought to himself.
It's a good thing my ring is able to trace the celestial energy of other rings. Otherwise, I'd still be looking him up in the damn phone book.

Alan knocked again, but there was still no answer.

Where the hell IS that lazy young bastard, anyway?

 

[EZKiil]

Forgive Me For My Intrusion.

 

[trustyside-kick]

OOC: This is my last post that starts out in the past (1 month from present time).

Clayface- 'Last Chance'
----------------------------
Matt double checks everything as he gets out of his car, looks into the mirror, straightens up his tie, and walks out of the parking garage. He walks down the side-walk and as he passes some windows, he looks at himself from the side. For a second, he swears he saw something odd and stops.

"Did my chin just...no, can't be."

Matt shrugs it off, and continues to walk down the sidewalk and stops infront of a building. He goes into his pocket, unfolds a sheet of paper and checks the address.

"Yep, seems to be the place."

As he walks forward to open the door, however, he pulls and for some reason at first, the door doesn't budge. He did indeed pull on the handle, but...for some strange reason for a second Matt could've sworn his arm extended as he pulled. He tries it again, and successfully opens the door. He walks into the building and up to the front desk. The security guard checks gets out of his booth, and pulls out a clipboard.

"Do you have an appointment, Mr.--"

"Hagen. Matt Hagen. I talked to the director over the phone about a week ago. He told me to stop by, at around..."

Matt looks down at his watch.

"...in about 15 minutes. I decided to come early just to make sure I didn't miss him."

The security guard looks down at his clipboard, and finds Matt's name. He checks the name off, and nods at Matt.

"I'll let him know you are here. Why don't you go ahead and sit on that couch there; maybe read a few magazines while you wait."

"Sure."

The security guard goes back to his booth and begins to dial a number. Matt sits down, and spots a 'Celebrity Life' magazine on the coffee table. He opens it up and begins to read, spotting a surprising article.

"...Director Tom Wilkins claims that he has future plans on filming an Owlman sequel...casting will not begin until May of...wait a second."

Matt re-reads the sentence and gets infuriated.

"Casting? I never got a call. Son of a *****! He isn't going to re-cast me? I was Owlman!"

The guard hears Matts outburst, and looks over the counter.

"Could you keep it down, sir?"

"Uh, yea...sorry about that."

Matt continues to read the article and the more he reads, the further his anger increases. To think that not only was he type-casted, but...he couldn't even get the part for the sequel? The director never even called him. It's finally happened to Matt; he's lower than low; just another washed up actor. The thought angers Matt once more and he pounds his hand down onto the coffee table. Oddly, the expected doesn't occur. He slams his fist down but it makes no sound, nor much of a contact; it was as if Matt's hand sunk into it, and bounced off.

Sweat begins to run down Matt's forehead as he panics, and he grabs a hankerchief from his pocket. As he wipes his forehead however, he noticed a brown residue remaining.

"What's...going on?"

The security guard walks up to Matt and points at the elevator.

"The director has decided to see you now since you showed up early."

"Uh, thanks."

Matt follows the security guard and the guard opens the elevator lock, and Matt steps inside.

"Press this button here, and then 35; that's the floor he's on. Good luck; break a leg."
​

 

[guitarsingerguy]

"Ganthet, just how in the hell am I supposed to escort this man to Heaven?"

"We did not purposely leave your predecessor's imprint in the battery for companionship. We left it there to act as your guide, not your friend. Ask him of these matters. Do not return to us until your mission is complete."

Just as the connection between Kyle and Ganthet disappeared, he turns and looks at Alan Scott's imprint.

"It's that bad huh?"

"I don't know Alan."

""Well, you going to tell me or what?""

"I have to escort a man to heaven."

"I always hated those. Worst part of the job."

"Ganthet told me to get a tutorial from you."

"First, the path to heaven isn't what you pictured in your head at Sunday school. It isn't beyond the clouds. Everyone doesn't wear white robes. And, there are no pearly gates. Heaven essentually lies on a different plane of reality. Think of it as an alternate dimension. Once you transport yourself into the new one, you'll have to visit the equivalent of the ferryman Charon. She will ensure that the man reaches his destination."

"She?"

"Yes. She's nothing like you would expect. You won't be able to miss her. She's pale and has an ankh tattoo over her eye. You can call her Death."

 

[Apprentice]

CAPTAIN MARVEL

Slightly taken aback, Bill doesn't want to give too much away. If this man knew about his identity, he deserved some attention.

"Shall we take a walk?"

Whilst the nature of this man was concerning, Bill was not afraid, no matter how great a threat he could be, he had fought many before.

J'onn nodded slowly, and matched Batson's stride as the pair began to move forward. His tactic had worked; the man had taken notice of him, and from the precursory telepathic scan, it seemed as though he was preparing himself for a battle. The Martian Manhunter allowed a grim smile to graze his lips as he mused upon the outcome of such a brawl. Returning his ponderings to his current situation, he spoke again, his tone soft yet firm.

"My name is John Jones," he began, "and my offer is somewhat...unusual, even for a specimen as extraordinary as yourself."

 

[Cyrusbales]

J'onn nodded slowly, and matched Batson's stride as the pair began to move forward. His tactic had worked; the man had taken notice of him, and from the precursory telepathic scan, it seemed as though he was preparing himself for a battle. The Martian Manhunter allowed a grim smile to graze his lips as he mused upon the outcome of such a brawl. Returning his ponderings to his current situation, he spoke again, his tone soft yet firm.

"My name is John Jones," he began, "and my offer is somewhat...unusual, even for a specimen as extraordinary as yourself."

CAPTAIN MARVEL

The reasonably small figure of Bill seemed to find some humour in this man's tact.

"Specimen? The last person who reffered to me as that......well, justice was dealt."

Curious about his aim, Bill felt the need to be direct.

"Well shall we cut to the chase, what is it your after, John, if that's even your real name?"

 

[Byrd Man]

Boston follows me tonight as I start my vendetta against the Hub City Police Department.

"So...other than killing bad people...what do you do?"

"Hold up, mister angel of vengence, why don't you know. Aren't you suppose to be all knowing?"

"No, smartass. I just know what my boss tells me."

I hear a buzz and the timer on my oven goes off. I get up off the couch and open the oven door. I put on the oven mits and take a pan out of the hot stove.

"What is that?"

"My mask. I use silly putty and a bunch of other stuff to make it. Then I cook it to make sure it keeps its form."

I reach down and blow on my mask. It'll take a few minutes for it to cool.

"Ahh. Fascinating. So what do you do?"


"If you must know....I write a newsletter. Called Question Authority"

"Okay...What to you write about."

I shake my head and dig into of my drawers. I pull out a crumbled peice of paper and lay it out infront of him.

"Huh...Let's see.....'Martians Invade Earth In Form of Pop Stars'......'New Evidence Shows that 9/11was caused by Sweden'.....'Proof The JSA did exsist'...wow. So your a screwball, eh?"

I look back at him as I pull my tie around my neck and start to tie it.

"No. All that is true. I've got my sources. You have to look between the lines."

After I finish with my tie. I reach for my shoulder holsters and strap them on. Then I sling my trenchcoat on and button it up. By the time I'm back in the kitchen, my mask has cooled and I slip it on my face. I take my fedora off the hatrack and place it on my head. I pull my pistols out for dramatic effect.

"So tell me, how do I look?"

"Like a knock off of The Shadow."

"Good. That's what I was going for. Let's go."

I walking through the shadows with Boston when he literally barks.

"Ruff, ruff....Sorry about that i'm still getting use to a dog's body. Anyway, take a left."

"What? Why?"

"Look here. Who's your damn spirit guide? Me that's who. Now take a left. You have too, it's you destiny."

Fine then. I take a left down Adams Street and walk down the sidewalk. I hear footsteps and see someone standing under the street light, smoking.

"There he is....right on time."

 

[Apprentice]

CAPTAIN MARVEL

The reasonably small figure of Bill seemed to find some humour in this man's tact.

"Specimen? The last person who reffered to me as that......well, justice was dealt."

Curious about his aim, Bill felt the need to be direct.

"Well shall we cut to the chase, what is it your after, John, if that's even your real name?"

J'onn's smile widened. "You hid your existence for a long while, Mr Batson. Perhaps you would like to demonstrate some of your abilities? I have yet to truly witness a superhuman feat other than my own. First, though, I will answer your question. I have been dubbed the 'Martian Manhunter' by the press. Maybe you are now aware of my true identity?"

 

[Cyrusbales]

I walking through the shadows with Boston when he literally barks.

"Ruff, ruff....Sorry about that i'm still getting use to a dog's body. Anyway, take a left."

"What? Why?"

"Look here. Who's your damn spirit guide? Me that's who. Now take a left. You have too, it's you destiny."

Fine then. I take a left down Adams Street and walk down the sidewalk. I hear footsteps and see someone standing under the street light, smoking.

"There he is....right on time.""

JOHN CONSTANTINE

Been trolling through this city for a while. Too long. Never trust a magician without eyes, damn people. I've got about three ciggy's left, then I'm off.

There's definately something in the air, apart from the crappy smell. Some man and his dog approach, although it's not a normal dog, different town, same ol' crazy *****.

"Hello mr. Contantine"

Nice, a talking dog.

I take in a big drag.

"I guess life's a b*tch...... and so are you..."

 

[Byrd Man]

JOHN CONSTANTINE

Been trolling through this city for a while. Too long. Never trust a magician without eyes, damn people. I've got about three ciggy's left, then I'm off.

There's definately something in the air, apart from the crappy smell. Some man and his dog approach, although it's not a normal dog, different town, same ol' crazy *****.

"Hello mr. Contantine"

Nice, a talking dog.

I take in a big drag.

"I guess life's a b*tch...... and so are you..."

"Who the hell is he?"

"He's John Constantine. He's a low level magician from England. And you two are gonna be partners..."

 

[Cyrusbales]

J'onn's smile widened. "You hid your existence for a long while, Mr Batson. Perhaps you would like to demonstrate some of your abilities? I have yet to truly witness a superhuman feat other than my own. First, though, I will answer your question. I have been dubbed the 'Martian Manhunter' by the press. Maybe you are now aware of my true identity?"

CAPTAIN MARVEL

Bill's suspicion of the man were confirmed, whilst this man may have rarely met another superhuman, Bill had, and knew that these meeting ended up in trouble most of the time.

"I haven't remained hidden for all these years by 'showing off' my powers. I am who I am for justice, not for amusement, I'm sorry to dissappoint."

John's face lights up with intrigue but also suggests some iritation.

"If you have something to ask me, please go ahead, just don't try to get in the way of justice."

 

[Cyrusbales]

"Who the hell is he?"

"He's John Constantine. He's a low level magician from England. And you two are gonna be partners..."

JOHN CONSTANTINE

Where does this mutt get off calling me a low level magician? Low level, yes. Magician, yeah, but a low level magician? And partners? Either I've finally lost it or this aint tobacco.

"If you know who I am, you know I don't work well with people. "

"You think just 'cause you got yourself a talking dog mate, that you've seen everything? Ever seen a man eat his own face? Didn't think so."

This is like some kind of surreal crap from the Tate, I don't need this sorta thing. But what I do need is a light...

 

[Charlie No-One]

(IC: Catwoman)

Gotham City

“Look at the way the moon behaves.
Look at the way she paints
A silver ribbon on the waves.
One thing I've learned and I'll share
with you...”

Selina’s voice bellowed out from her body and into the crowd. Placing her hand on top of the abnormally small prop bed, she continued on with her song.

“Nothing is too wonderful to be true.
Each moment opens like a flower.
The age of miracles comes
Every hour on the hour.
Turn any corner,
There's something new
And nothing is too wonderful
To be true.”

As she reached the end of her song, the audience erupted into cheers and screams. Sure, the show wasn’t actually on Broadway, but she was working her way up. Any job counted toward something after the way she had been treated. Either way, the applause helped her self-esteem. The way they were clapping, she must have done something right.

Selina exited the stage. She took off her silk yellow and white dress and hung it nicely on its selected spot on the costume rack. The actress heard her costars started to belt their first few lines. She wouldn’t have to go on stage for another few scenes. Walking into her dressing room, she closed and locked the door. Slipping into her next glittery and overly bright ensemble, she pulled down a few bundles of papers that had been sitting on top her make-up case. Selina unfolded them. They were blank. Nothing tainted the opaque pages, nothing, but Selina still studied them intently. Finally, after a few seconds, the ebony hair woman turned her back and flicked off the lights. A small sleek compact glowed in the darkness. Snatching it up, she pressed down on its lid. The metal lining that held the small compact together flashed into brightness.

“BLACK LIGHT ACTIVATED”

She hovered the small device over the blank papers. Under the conditioned light, the pages’ secrets were revealed. It was a map. A map of Kate Spencer’s home. Ms. Spencer was a millionaire. She inherited the money from some sugar daddy or something equally as dirty. The ***** didn’t deserve the money that she stole. Selina didn’t feel bad about stealing it herself. Kate had taken the long and boring way of getting the money. No, she did not deserve it. She didn’t have to work at it. Selina did. She reviewed the plan at least a hundred times in her head. All she had to do was slip in and snatch it. Easy. Just then, the door shook several times.

“Selina, you’re on in five.”

“Thanks, Darren,”

 

[Lord Doom]

You'd think that, for the new ION, he'd be a little more accustomed to answering his-

Suddenly, a strange feeling of dread washes over Alan Scott as he stands outside the home of Kyle Rayner.

I hope to God that Kyle understands why I have to return to the battery. If not, then it could be the last mistake this old man will ever make...