The "Ultimate DC Universe" RPG: Season 2.0

[Batman]

The barrel of my backup pistols pours out smoke into the snowy night as Joker stares at me. Blood starts to slowly pour out the wound in his shoulder.

"That was a warning shot, you bastard. Now put your hands behind your head and lay on the ground!"

The Joker was silent, placing a hand over his wound. That was the second time in one night he had been shot by a spoilsport in a badge, and he wasn't even going to go into the fact that Gordon was black. The madman chuckled to himself, lowering his head and closing his eyes. Irony upon irony filled this night, it seemed. A nutso corrupt cop tried to off Gordon, Joker took him out. But it was Joker himself that held a blade to the Captain's neck just minutes before. And while there was a police force scattered all around the woods, each one of them perfectly capable of assisting Gordon with the killer, they were all too busy hunting The Batman. It was all such delicious irony that The Joker couldn't help but grin, widely, as he looked once more upon the determined Captain.

"Oh, you silly goose. You poor, demented sap. Don't you get the joke, boy?", He asked, in a hateful hiss. "I saved your meaningless little life only to risk my own, at your hands. I, the man who gladly took tens of dozens... maybe hundreds of lives tonight, saved your life. And now you've got the gun pointed to me. Get it? Isn't it funny? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

As Gordon's gun lowered, even for a moment, in contemplation of the Harlequin of Hatred's words, The Joker wasted no time in seizing the opprotunity. Letting his now numbed arm go, The Joker threw his hand into his jacket, and pulled out an object so blindingly fast that Gordon didn't even see what had hit him, as the object struck the Captain across the head, and forced the gun out of his hands. As Gordon fell to the ground, and looked up, caught off guard, he watched as The Joker held up the weapon in question, as if proud of it's ludicrousy: A rubber chicken.

"Can't beat the classics.", The Joker stated, throwing the chicken into the air, and producing Gordon's own pistol in his hand. "Now, let's get back to where we were a few minutes ago, Captain. I believe I was just at this part!"

Gordon grimaced, as Joker pulled the trigger... but no shot came out. The madman looked down at his hands, as they became bound together by a tight cable, wrapping itself around with speeded force and precision. As the cable came to a stop, a tiny object became visible on it's end: A bat-shaped logo. The Joker turned, as the cable was pulled, violently, and dragged him off of his feet. There, on the other end of the vacant spot in the middle of Robinsion Park, stood The Dark Knight, his eyes glowing with hatred and his teeth clenched together in vengeful anger.

"I told you once,", I utter with a growl, bringing the madman to the ground with a forceful tug. "Your madness ends tonight!"

But I've already failed to hinder his efforts. A sickening array of disembowleded and decapitated corpses once belonging to men and women from the Gotham Police Force, in the woods behind me, only confirms that. So my rage can only be expressed through a tense, and painful attack on the man responsible. The Joker laughs once more, as I keep pulling him towards me, getting him as far away from Jim as possible.

I've never met a criminal like this. All the muggers and rapists out there expressed a genuine humanity and remorse in their actions. Even the ones like Harvey Dent and Victor Fries never took personal pleasure in the acts they've committed, or the lives they've slain. The Joker, however, has never stopped revelling in his own madness. From the very day I first encountered him, he's seemed to genuinely endorse and enjoy every murder, as if expressing some perverse obsession with the thought of taking a life.

It ends here, right now. The Joker's killed his last victim.

As he finally reaches me, I drop the cable, and lunge forward, grabbing him by his jacket. His head flies back, as he continues to chuckle to himself. I hit him once, hard, to make him stop. He doesn't. I hit him again. And again. Not even a hint of hindrance. Taking him over my head, I toss him into a nearby tree, as hard as I possibly can. Even as he lands, and his bones crack, he keeps laughing. It never ceases. And it's beginning to drive me insane.

"Why are you laughing?!", I scream at him, enraged, losing my concentration on the more important matter of apprehending the madman. "Those people are dead because of you!"

"I KNOW!", The Joker yells back, excitedly. "Isn't it just the pits?! Oh, think of all the loved ones they've left behind, Batman! Some of them probably even had kids! And now they'll never see their parents again! Never ever! Never ever ever! HAHAHAHAHA!"

This only seems to anger The Caped Crusader even further, as his eyes widen, but his rage never leaves, taking the Clown Prince of Crime and hurling him out of the woods, onto the patch of grass near Officer Merkel's corpse. He walks towards the madman, seemingly intent on further abuse towards the criminal... but stops, The Joker notices, when he sees the madman's own blood on his gloves. Lowering his hands, Batman seems to recoil, letting them slide back under his cape, away from visibility. Turning to the Captain, Batman seems calm, and collective, once more.

"Your men can do the work from here,", He acknowledges, before turning around, and taking off into the woods, seamlessly fading into the darkness of the night.

And all the more, The Joker chuckles to himself, getting onto his knees, but never attempting to escape, as Captain Gordon approaches him. He may be captured, finally, but he's more than content. Oh, how he's content with himself, tonight. Because once and for all, he finally did it. He finally managed to get under Batman's skin.

"T.T.F.N., Batfreak! Let's do it again, sometime!"

 

[Byrd Man]

The Joker was silent, placing a hand over his wound. That was the second time in one night he had been shot by a spoilsport in a badge, and he wasn't even going to go into the fact that Gordon was black. The madman chuckled to himself, lowering his head and closing his eyes. Irony upon irony filled this night, it seemed. A nutso corrupt cop tried to off Gordon, Joker took him out. But it was Joker himself that held a blade to the Captain's neck just minutes before. And while there was a police force scattered all around the woods, each one of them perfectly capable of assisting Gordon with the killer, they were all too busy hunting The Batman. It was all such delicious irony that The Joker couldn't help but grin, widely, as he looked once more upon the determined Captain.​

"Oh, you silly goose. You poor, demented sap. Don't you get the joke, boy?", He asked, in a hateful hiss. "I saved your meaningless little life only to risk my own, at your hands. I, the man who gladly took tens of dozens... maybe hundreds of lives tonight, saved your life. And now you've got the gun pointed to me. Get it? Isn't it funny? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

As Gordon's gun lowered, even for a moment, in contemplation of the Harlequin of Hatred's words, The Joker wasted no time in seizing the opprotunity. Letting his now numbed arm go, The Joker threw his hand into his jacket, and pulled out an object so blindingly fast that Gordon didn't even see what had hit him, as the object struck the Captain across the head, and forced the gun out of his hands. As Gordon fell to the ground, and looked up, caught off guard, he watched as The Joker held up the weapon in question, as if proud of it's ludicrousy: A rubber chicken.

"Can't beat the classics.", The Joker stated, throwing the chicken into the air, and producing Gordon's own pistol in his hand. "Now, let's get back to where we were a few minutes ago, Captain. I believe I was just at this part!"

Gordon grimaced, as Joker pulled the trigger... but no shot came out. The madman looked down at his hands, as they became bound together by a tight cable, wrapping itself around with speeded force and precision. As the cable came to a stop, a tiny object became visible on it's end: A bat-shaped logo. The Joker turned, as the cable was pulled, violently, and dragged him off of his feet. There, on the other end of the vacant spot in the middle of Robinsion Park, stood The Dark Knight, his eyes glowing with hatred and his teeth clenched together in vengeful anger.

"I told you once,", I utter with a growl, bringing the madman to the ground with a forceful tug. "Your madness ends tonight!"

But I've already failed to hinder his efforts. A sickening array of disembowleded and decapitated corpses once belonging to men and women from the Gotham Police Force, in the woods behind me, only confirms that. So my rage can only be expressed through a tense, and painful attack on the man responsible. The Joker laughs once more, as I keep pulling him towards me, getting him as far away from Jim as possible.

I've never met a criminal like this. All the muggers and rapists out there expressed a genuine humanity and remorse in their actions. Even the ones like Harvey Dent and Victor Fries never took personal pleasure in the acts they've committed, or the lives they've slain. The Joker, however, has never stopped revelling in his own madness. From the very day I first encountered him, he's seemed to genuinely endorse and enjoy every murder, as if expressing some perverse obsession with the thought of taking a life.

It ends here, right now. The Joker's killed his last victim.

As he finally reaches me, I drop the cable, and lunge forward, grabbing him by his jacket. His head flies back, as he continues to chuckle to himself. I hit him once, hard, to make him stop. He doesn't. I hit him again. And again. Not even a hint of hindrance. Taking him over my head, I toss him into a nearby tree, as hard as I possibly can. Even as he lands, and his bones crack, he keeps laughing. It never ceases. And it's beginning to drive me insane.

"Why are you laughing?!", I scream at him, enraged, losing my concentration on the more important matter of apprehending the madman. "Those people are dead because of you!"

"I KNOW!", The Joker yells back, excitedly. "Isn't it just the pits?! Oh, think of all the loved ones they've left behind, Batman! Some of them probably even had kids! And now they'll never see their parents again! Never ever! Never ever ever! HAHAHAHAHA!"

This only seems to anger The Caped Crusader even further, as his eyes widen, but his rage never leaves, taking the Clown Prince of Crime and hurling him out of the woods, onto the patch of grass near Officer Merkel's corpse. He walks towards the madman, seemingly intent on further abuse towards the criminal... but stops, The Joker notices, when he sees the madman's own blood on his gloves. Lowering his hands, Batman seems to recoil, letting them slide back under his cape, away from visibility. Turning to the Captain, Batman seems calm, and collective, once more.

"Your men can do the work from here,", He acknowledges, before turning around, and taking off into the woods, seamlessly fading into the darkness of the night.

And all the more, The Joker chuckles to himself, getting onto his knees, but never attempting to escape, as Captain Gordon approaches him. He may be captured, finally, but he's more than content. Oh, how he's content with himself, tonight. Because once and for all, he finally did it. He finally managed to get under Batman's skin.

"T.T.F.N., Batfreak! Let's do it again, sometime!"

I push Joker's head hard to the ground, he falls face first into the sloppy sleet, mud mix.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be used against you in the court of law."

I pull some cuffs out of my back pocket and clamp them down tight until the metal bites down on Joker's wrist.

I kick him hard in the ribs and pick him by the cuffs.

"Let's go, you piece of ****."

Joker hammered us tonight. So many officers dead and wounding. It's all I can do stop myself from shooting him in the back of the head.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Rhiannon begins to look over several case files and her phone rings.

She answers, "Dr. Palmer."

The voice at the other end says, "Hello Dr. Officer Palmer."

She smirks and says, "Hello Elliot what can I do for you? Now that I am no longer at Star Labs?"
He says, "Rhiannon I have a huge favor to ask of you."

She replies, "What would that be?"

He says, "Our auxilary office in Atlanta is having problems getting their physics unit on-line again after a fire tore through the place last month. They need someone who can get the staff back in-line and the equipment back up to code otherwise a lot of people are going to lose their jobs. You're the only person who can do this for us."

She says, "As much as I'd like to help you Elliot I am no longer there. I am at the GCPD now you'll have to find someone else."

Elliot says, "Look Mr. Stenenson, our CEO, called the mayor and the chief of police to see if they would allow you to come help us without it counting towards vacation time and all that. They said only if you agreed to it."

Rhiannon takes a deep sigh and says, "All-right call everyone up and tell them I'll be on a flight in 24 hours."

Elliot says, "Thank you Rhiannon we will make this worth while. I'll call Mr. Stenenson and he'll take of it from here. You have no idea what this means to us or those people in Atlanta."

She says, "All-right but this is the last time Elliot."

He says, "You got it after this you are out of the rolodex."

She says, "Good talk to you later."

She hangs up the phone and begins making plans for her trip.

 

[Eddie Brock]

IC: DETECTIVE JOHN GRAYSON

When I awake on Christmas morning, I find myself overwhelmed with a feeling of depression. It's the most wonderful day of the year, and I can't even enjoy it. How can I? My wife is in the hospital with leukemia, and she's never seemed closer to Death's door than now. I've known Mary a long time, and she's always walked away scot-free. But this time feels differently. She's never gotten so bad that she had to be hospitalized.

Nonetheless, I put on a happy face for Dick's sake. He's not a kid anymore, but he should still enjoy Christmas. Although I know, deep-down, he wants the same thing I want - his mother home for Christmas.

"Merry Christmas," I announce to Dick when I see him in the kitchen. He's eating cereal with his Christmas pajamas on.

He looks up from his breakfast with a smile as he replies, "Merry Christmas!" God, he's able to cover up his sorrow much better than me.

I glance over to the tree. The pile of presents is severely limited this year. It's been a rough year for us, and we simply couldn't afford the same quantity as previous years. Luckily, Dick is old enough to understand that. Even so, I apologize, "Sorry about the presents. You know how it is."

"Don't worry about it, Dad," he reassures me maturely. "I'm past the point where gifts are that important to me."

I walk over to the pile and pick up a colorful box. "Even so," I begin, "I still wanted to make it special for you." I place the box on the kitchen table.

Dick's gaze locks on it. "What is it?" he asks excitedly.

I nod, signaling to open it. "Go ahead. I hope you like it," I reply nervously. "I thought it'd make you look pretty cool."

Dick tears the wrapping paper and opens the box. After pushing the tissue paper aside, he removes the leather jacket and holds it up while examining it.

"Well?"

Without taking his eyes off his present, he states happily, "It's so cool! This is going to look great."

I smile. I'm truly glad he liked it. As they get older, it gets harder to surprise them with a present that they'll like. "We'll open the rest after breakfast," I assure him while grabbing the box of cereal along with a bowl for myself.
​

 

[Batman]

The Batmobile peels into the northeast tunnel, fighting the rain and sleet mix that came treading down atop my city's streets. Overhead fixture lights flicker into my cornia, keeping me awake long enough to make it back into the cave without a collaspe. It's been days since I've had even a moment of sleep, and my body's pleading desperately with me to give into a slumber. Normally, I would have ignored, citing that there was work to be done. But the consideration of rest and relaxation comes... easier, given tonight's milestone.

The Joker is behind bars. A bizarre string of murders and psychotic displays of anarchy are finally put to an end, and Gotham City is all the more closer to being freed into rejoining a normal life once lived. Even if I've never allowed myself to admit it... he posed a threat far more formidable than any other criminal.

The screech of the Batmobile's tires knocks me out of my daze at the wheel. The acid wound caused a slight whiplash effect, boiling into my bloodstream. I should be fine, provided I allow my immune system to fight it off. In the meantime, I'm left to focus on the lesser criminals, now that The Joker is in Gordon's custody. I know what task lies ahead... yet I can't take my mind off of a victory that seemed almost too simple.

Climbing out of the cockpit, I turn, and ascend up the railing as the turntable activates, bringing the car to a southeast turn on it's axis. Even before I've made it into the main chamber, I spot Alfred, already getting back into the mindframe of his duties, as he approaches me with a dinner plate. But I barely even notice, as I make my way to the small labratory next to the cavern's computer system. Alfred follows, wordlessly, as I remove my gloves and place them upon the scanning tray.

"While I do revel in the fact that you've returned earlier than expected, sir, I do wish you would at least acknowledge that I'm growing concerned for your well being,", Alfred states, from behind me. "Surely, you must be starving. It's been days since you've even treaded the Manor grounds."

"I'm fine, Alfred.", I respond, aligning the microscope over the components. "Infact, I'm doing better than in recent days."

"I would've hardly guessed so. Now, if only one could say the same about your hygine."

I feel my face, in response to his passing mention. A thinned beard that I've never noticed before brushes against my fingertips. Maybe Alfred's right. Maybe I have been too focused on my work, recently.

"You'll be happy to know I intend to take it easier, then.", I answer back, peering into the scope. "The Joker was just handed over into Gotham Police custody."

"Very good, then.", Alfred responds, taking the cape from my back and beginning to fold it. "Though, per usual, I assume that congratulations are to be prematured."

"There's still something about him that got to me,", I begin, examining the blood fibers between the stitching on my gloves. "His knack for avoiding custody for this long only confirmed what it was. He had a mysterious quality to him that made his killings all the more effective. I intend to answer some of the mysteries about him, before I consider his career closed."

"I never knew envy was a quality a man of your stature could posess."

I look back, unamused at his indication. He sighs, continuing to fold the cape.

"My apologies. I was simply referring to his taste for theatricality. It seems to be a common trait you share with these enemies, of your's."

"Maybe so,", I acknowledge. "But their outlet for theatrical expression usually results in chaos. So you'll forgive me if I don't find the notion particularly humorous."

"Of course, sir. I never intended harm."

Even though my acknowledgement is delayed, because I wasn't paying attention at first, I try to convey as much apology as I can in my voice, when I finally do respond. "...I know, Alfred. I'm just... overworked, right now. Don't take anything I say personally."

"Oh, you've said much worse to me. Particularly the evening you had your first taste of ginerale, if I recall.", Alfred quips, placing the cape on a nearby storage rack. "I fear, even to this day, I'll never be able to remove the stains from that carpet."

The comment forces a smile out of me, even as I try to focus on my work. But a discovery in the blood tissue fades it away sooner than I expect. That can't be right.

"What in god's name..."

I turn to the computer, and enter a command for a rescan. It complies, but only with the same results. My body becomes all the more tense, trying to rationalize this.

"Master Bruce?"

"His blood,", I state, embittered. "It's... toxicated."

"He's going to die?"

"No. Nothing like that. But it's affected his system in a way that's burned off any possible altercation of a viable match.", I respond, thinking aloud. "Unless Gordon can get his fingerprints, his DNA may not be able to indicate who he really is. Or was."

"My word.", Alfred utters, for the second time. "I assume that to be disheartening."

"...Very.", I reply, pulling back the cowl. "I actually thought I was close to deciephering his madness."

A silent rift passes between us, as the cavern's air sweeps by. It isn't long before I feel Alfred's hand rest upon my shoulder, in empathy.

"If there is one thing I've learned, sir, it's that there are some mysteries in life better left unsolved.", He begins. "This killer... this murderer who plagued you on a nightly basis. You've brought him to justice. You've saved, perhaps, hundreds of lives from being taken by his hand. Isn't that enough?"

My eyes never meet his, as I think of what might have been. Even if I learned who he was, I have to wonder... would it have made a difference?

"Maybe it is. I'm not sure."

"Very well. In the meantime, sir, if I may make a suggestion... Perhaps it's time that you put The Batman to rest, for the evening. There is still work to be done that doesn't require his aide.", Alfred states. "Such as maintaining that public persona you've managed to avoid, recently."

My head lowers, in contemplation. I've been so preoccupied with capturing The Joker, Harvey, and others, that I've lost sight on trying to regain my position at Wayne Enterprises. I'm sure that Maxwell Zues is up to something... and if I don't do something soon, my company could pay the price. Not to mention the fact that I'm sure many people have began asking the question as to where Bruce Wayne has been, these past few days...

"I think you're right, actually,", I finally respond, turning to him. "However, if I'm going to be brought back into the headlines, I'm going to need to do something drastic. Any ideas?"

Alfred shrugs.

"Well... It is the holidays."

Walking past Alfred, I begin to remove my belt, heading into the costume chamber. There's a change of clothes that I may require, for this to become a reality. And it's not, by any means, a Batsuit. Alfred's right about one thing... I have been falling too deep into the role of a protector. It's time I gave back to my city in a way that only Bruce Wayne's wealth could solve...

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I'm glad you could all come. I have a, ah... bit of an announcement."

I faux a small smile, as cameras flash into my face, and video recorders tape my every word. I'm standing upon Gotham City Hall's steps, with both Mayor Oswald Cobblepot, Rachel Dawes, and Lucius Fox beside me. One person I despise, and two I admire. But all of which made a project I've been brewing in my mind all the more possible, today. For the first time in my life, I'm looking past the methods of fighting a criminal fraterity... and looking towards the brighter future of it's victims.

"As I'm sure many of you know, our police force had more than their work cut out for them, yesterday evening, when a madman appeared in Robinson Park with the intentions of needlessly taking the lives of many of our fellow citizens. And tragically, as grim as a reality as it is, he suceeded.", I announce, sincerely angered, yet mortified at the situation that I was all too closely connected with. "Mayor Cobblepot has told me that the casualties from last night's unfortunate incident ranged well into the hundreds, many of them members of the fine Gotham City Police Force. As many families in the city grieve, today, and just as many seek justice for this violent and appauling crime, many are left asking what to do for their livelihood, and the future of their children."

I clar my throat, and smile, warmly, trying to ease the looks of dread on many of the press' faces. It's not something I'm used to, trying to be a focal point of hope, as Bruce Wayne... but it's something that I think this situation calls for me to utilize.

"That is why, today, as of an hour ago, I have donated five hundred million dollars of my own personal earnings towards a new charity to help these victims take care of their debts, their children's needs, and their general financial woes that have come in association with this, and other crime related tragedies."

There's a loud gasp, in unified surprise, as the reporters look at me with clearly shocked expression. Some murmur to themselves, while others can't help but keep their jaws dropped. Even Lucius and Rachel, who I hadn't informed of my plan beforehand, can't help but look at me in utter surprise. I smile back at them, before proceeding.

"Please, ladies and gentlemen, let me finish. There are a few other things I want to announce, in conjunction with this.", I begin once more. "Seeing as how many of the families devastated by these criminal attacks are left without a provider, I've also decided that, with Mayor Cobblepot's approval, I'm going to be opening a plant on the edge of Gotham's slums, providing food and shelter to the less fortunate. While I can't promise a steady work enviroment, given our limited resources, I can promise that if you come to work at this plant, you'll be paid exceptionally, even if I have to personally oversee that myself. Families in Gotham City deserve a chance to raise their children without the worry of brutal crime on an everyday basis."

The murmurs continue, but it's generally positive. I only wish I could see the look on my parent's faces, as this announcement was made. They could be proud of me, I feel, for the first time since their deaths.

"These projects will be conjunctionally funded by a program that I'm going to call The Wayne Foundation, in honor of my parents.", I acknowledge. "Now, if Mayor Cobblepot is ready, I'd like to turn the mic over to him for a few other projects that are in the works, towards Gotham's recouperation after this vicious attack. Thank you all, and have a wonderful holiday season."

By the time I turn it to Ozzie, the crowd is already cheering and clapping. And for the first time, my smile is genuine, as I wave back, and take a seat. Finally, my city shows signs of moving past crime's ugly hand. And The Batman was never once nessacary to make it happen.

 

[Andy C.]

Arkham Asylum.

Home to the criminally insane of Gotham City. Murderers, sociopaths, many beyond the means of modern therapy. It is a place meant not only to protect those inside of the asylum, but to keep them away from the rest of the world. And in recent days, it has drawn the attention of one man...

...the one man who saw Arkham as perfect for his purposes.

The formation of his Society had been coming along splendidly. Already, many of the most influential and powerful citizens in the country had united under his banner. More importantly, though, the working-class citizens signing up to his way of thinking was now numbering in the tens of thousands.

But that wasn't why he was walking the halls of Arkham Asylum.

No, he was here to scout out potential candidates for his other project. If the human race was going to accept the rewards of Society, they would have to first see the horrors of the alternative.

He walked ahead of the security guards, looking into the cells of the terminally deranged. Surely there would be someone here to suit his plans. And if there wasn't, it would at least provide a few hours of entertainment.

"Ahhh, If there's one thing I love about this time of year..."

http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b73/nowhereman716/Comics/g****hor.jpg

"...it's getting to do a little Christmas shopping."

 

[Byrd Man]

Gotham Central

The Robinson Park Massacre. That's what the press is calling it.

The squad room's silence is deafening by the time the morning shift starts. We lost a lot of officer's at The Joker's hand. Most of them were corrupt bastards, Merkel included, but they didn't deserve death.

"I just can't believe it."

Maggie leans on my desk, talking to me while I finish my paperwork on last night's horror.

"I would have never pegged Merkel as our mole. My money would have been on O'Hara."

"Well, Maggie. Chalk it up to a lesson learned."

"Captain."

Sarge opens the door to my office, the other officers in the squad room have their eyes on the t.v.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I'm glad you could all come. I have a, ah... bit of an announcement. As I'm sure many of you know, our police force had more than their work cut out for them, yesterday evening, when a madman appeared in Robinson Park with the intentions of needlessly taking the lives of many of our fellow citizens. And tragically, as grim as a reality as it is, he suceeded.", I announce, sincerely angered, yet mortified at the situation that I was all too closely connected with. "Mayor Cobblepot has told me that the casualties from last night's unfortunate incident ranged well into the hundreds, many of them members of the fine Gotham City Police Force. As many families in the city grieve, today, and just as many seek justice for this violent and appauling crime, many are left asking what to do for their livelihood, and the future of their children."​

I clear my throat, and smile, warmly, trying to ease the looks of dread on many of the press' faces. It's not something I'm used to, trying to be a focal point of hope, as Bruce Wayne... but it's something that I think this situation calls for me to utilize.

"That is why, today, as of an hour ago, I have donated five hundred million dollars of my own personal earnings towards a new charity to help these victims take care of their debts, their children's needs, and their general financial woes that have come in association with this, and other crime related tragedies."

There's a loud gasp, in unified surprise, as the reporters look at me with clearly shocked expression. Some murmur to themselves, while others can't help but keep their jaws dropped. Even Lucius and Rachel, who I hadn't informed of my plan beforehand, can't help but look at me in utter surprise. I smile back at them, before proceeding.

"Please, ladies and gentlemen, let me finish. There are a few other things I want to announce, in conjunction with this.", I begin once more. "Seeing as how many of the families devastated by these criminal attacks are left without a provider, I've also decided that, with Mayor Cobblepot's approval, I'm going to be opening a plant on the edge of Gotham's slums, providing food and shelter to the less fortunate. While I can't promise a steady work enviroment, given our limited resources, I can promise that if you come to work at this plant, you'll be paid exceptionally, even if I have to personally oversee that myself. Families in Gotham City deserve a chance to raise their children without the worry of brutal crime on an everyday basis. These projects will be conjunctionally funded by a program that I'm going to call The Wayne Foundation, in honor of my parents.", I acknowledge. "Now, if Mayor Cobblepot is ready, I'd like to turn the mic over to him for a few other projects that are in the works, towards Gotham's recouperation after this vicious attack. Thank you all, and have a wonderful holiday season."

Wayne's words just angers me further.

"You can close the door, Sarge."

"Yessir."

"What was that all about, Jim?"

"It's nothing, it's just that..."

I sigh and rub my face. I haven't slept in almost two days. I ran home after we arrested Joker, and that was just to change clothes and gab my backup pair of glasses since Joker cracked the other pair.

"Wayne thinks we're a charity case. That we need a handout, it's our job to serve and protect. Not his."

I have a grander speech planned, but it ends as Loeb opens the door and stares at us. Her nose wrinkles as she walks in. She hates the smell of my cigarette smoke.

"Jim, Detective Sawyer. We're about to begin the interrogation on Joker. Since you've been assigned with the case, you'll be tagging along with me."

"Okay, Jill. Let me grab my hat and finish my cigarette and grab a note book."


The elevator clangs and the door slides open. Revealing the holding cells below street level.

"Commissioner Loeb, Captain Gordon, Detective Sawyer."

Officer Fields stands in front of the elevator. He's one of the guards down here. It's his job to fingerprint perps and take thier photos.

"What can you tell us, Charlie?"

We step out of the elevator and follow Charlie down the corridor towards the cells.

"Well, Mam. We tried prying off that mask of his. It won't budge. We tried using a crowbar, but it just won't budge. We're gonna try to get a welder in here later today to try to melt it off."

"Won't that kill him?"

"Well, Captain. It's a risk we're willing to take."

"How about fingerprints?"

"Negative. Whatever happend to him, it burned off his fingerprints. Best we can figure, it was some kind of chemical that did it."

I scribble down a few notes on my pad as we walk.

"I'll call around the chemical plants in Gotham. See if they had any kind of thefts or industrial accidents recently."

"Anything else?"

"He wouldn't give us a name, no other alias, his clothing is custom. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint."

Charlie stops at a cell, the majority of it is basked in shadow. But a voice echoes eerily through the dark.

"G'morning.................Commissioner."

 

[Batman]

"Oh Comissssssssssssioner! I'm waaaaaaiting..."

The Joker stared out, chillingly, from beneath his mask, as he taunted the still officers outside of his cell. He had gone a few rounds of questions with a detective named Bullock, up until this point. But by the time he was finished, Bullock's face nearly lost all of it's color, as The Joker willingly expressed the gory details of some of his most haneous killings. The truth was, he was toying with them as much as he could. And it was working like a charm.

It had been hours since he had been taken into custody, and every moment, for him, had been pure bliss. From the carride to the station, when he could see the look of horror on the press' faces as they escorted him into the building, to the officers' desperate attempts to pry his mask loose, only to realize it had been bonded to the madman's face through an adhesive only he knew how to loosen... every step of the way, The Joker seemed to rattle all of their hopes of rattling him into some morbid, remorseful confession of his sins.

The truth was, The Joker regretted nothing. He'd have killed twice as many last night, if it weren't for Batman.

"Come now, Commish. You're beginning to be a real bore.", He taunted, until finally, Captain Gordon, Detective Sawyer, and Jillian Loeb collectively entered.

Taking a slow look around the room, The Joker chuckled to himself, as Loeb crossed her arms, staring down the killer with an icy glare. But the madman simply clasped his hands together, figeting his fingers, as if frigid, even though the room had been stuffed with the heat of cigarette smoke and light fixtures.

"Who's leg you have to skin to get a phone call, around here?", The madman asked, clearly to get a rise out of the officers before him.

"Never. And that's only if you're lucky, you freak.", Loeb hatefully spouted. "You killed alot of people last night. Alot of good men and women from this force. Want to tell us why?"

The Joker cackled, as if the crime meant nothing to him.

"Oh, no particular reason. Though they looked like they could use the smiles.", He answered, sickeningly content at the thought of the various corpses he had made the night prior. "By the way. Anyone seen that Bullock fellow?"

Loeb's expression changed, quickly, from angry to confused. "What does Detective Bullock have anything to do with this?"

"You tell me. When I offered the guy a blow, he seemed like he actually wanted it!"

Sawyer's eyes widened, as she stood from leaning on the wall.

"Leave Harvey out of this, damn you!"

"Sawyer! That's enough!", Loeb commanded. "Gordon, you deal with him. He's starting to make me sick."

"I get that alot.", The Joker proudly announced, as Captain Gordon took front and center. "Say, you look familiar! Haven't we met? HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

 

[Byrd Man]

"I get that alot.", The Joker proudly announced, as Captain Gordon took front and center. "Say, you look familiar! Haven't we met? HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

I light up a cigarette, much to Loeb's displeasure, and exhale. I needed that.

"Alright.."

The cigarette does more than calm my nerves. It's keeping the nicotine in my blood and keeping me from snapping and shooting Joker for all the lives he took.

He killed seventy-five people. Thirty of them were officers.

That's thirty moms and dads that won't see their kids this Christmas. Thirty sons and daughters who have grieving parents. Thirty men and women who are leaving behind wives, husbands, boyfriends and girlfriends.

Yes, it takes all my will power to keep me from reaching across the cell and snapping his neck.

"Where did you come from? What's your real name?"

 

[Batman]

Yes, it takes all my will power to keep me from reaching across the cell and snapping his neck.

"Where did you come from? What's your real name?"

The Joker's eyes darted back and forth, as if he were suddenly put on the spot. Of course, he was being put on the spot... but he hadn't had the chance to mock such ridiculous circumstances with exaggeration, yet. His eyes finally resting back on the Captain, The Joker suddenly paused, and sighed, closing his eyes.

"I... I don't know.", He whispered, as if the very fact of which distraught him to the very bone. In a surprise move to the officers, the manic killer's voice finally conveyed the slightest sense of emotion, as he dropped his head low, continuing his confession.

"I mean, sometimes, it starts to form in my head, you know? Sometimes it starts to creep back in, but the sad truth is, it always seems to fade away, just as I start to remember. So I don't remember. I can't. I haven't remembered ever since... since..."

His darkened eyes clasped upon eachother, as a single tear rolled down his mask.

"...since mother abandoned me. She just... left me. And without any food or clothes or anything. I had to fend for myself on the streets ever since I was a child. A child, for godsakes. I... I guess, maybe that was why I killed all those people, last night, Captain. I guess I just... I'm just a little angry at the world."

The Joker's eyes drooped, as he raised his head, and boldly faced the officers, a saddening innocence creeping behind the visage of a cold blooded killer.

"You can understand anger, can't you?", He asked them, with a small chuckle. "I don't want that to be an excuse. I just... I... I... oh, god... I..."

The madman buried his masked face in his hands, as loud weeps came behind them. To the officers, it seemed as if the once brave and maniacal killer had finally broken. But then... beneath the sobs... beneath all the testaments to his sincere victimized vulnerability... there came a blood curling, spine tingling laugh. Violently, The Joker's head flew up, catching the officers off guard before they could realize what was going on.

"Gotcha.", The madman grinned. "My mother was a saint. She was the most loving, caring person I had ever known. Did my heart good, when I saw that grinning face greet me as I recieved my highschool diploma on a summer's day."

The Joker then paused.

"Kinda funny when you think about the fact that I beheaded the *****, huh? HAHAHAHAHA!"

Grabbing his stomach, the madman flew back on his bench, hitting his head on the wall, but paying it no attention as his laugh echoed throughout Gotham Central Station, blatantly mocking the officers' gullibility. The truth was, The Joker didn't even remember his mother. He didn't remember graduating anything. He didn't even remember his left from his right.

The beheading thing sounded fun, though.

Wiping a tear of joy from his eye, where one had fallen in mock sadness just moments ago, The Joker faced Captain Gordon once more, and playfully clasped his hands back together.

"Please, please, ask me something else. Ask me about my marraige! About my divorce! About my visectimy! I could keep this going all night!"

 

[Byrd Man]

"Please, please, ask me something else. Ask me about my marraige! About my divorce! About my visectimy! I could keep this going all night!"

I feel blood start to boil as I just look at Joker. He's wearing my patience thin.

"What's your affiliation with Harvey Dent?"

 

[Feature]

REX TYLER: HOURMAN
Season II - Part 8


Rex Tyler knew there was a place in Hell for him.

He knew it instinctively, deep within himself. It was all he could think about as he disposed of the police officer's body.

Using a cleaver, Rex cut the man's body into small portions. He then cleaned his apartment as thoroughly as he could, until the entire place smelled so strongly of bleach that his eyes watered. The dirty rags he'd used were stuffed into a canvas bag along with the peices of the policeman's body. The bag went into the trunk of his car.

Rex owned a small cabin just outside the city. It had been his father's and he hardly ever ventured out there anymore. The cabin sat in a state of decay on the edge of a small lake. Rex decided to spend a few days there after the murder.

One night, Rex had a big campfire. He threw the body parts into the roaring flame. The smell was unpleasant to say the least. He vomited. Though not nearly as much as he had while using the cleaver. The next morning, he pulled the bones and teeth out of the cinders and brought them into the cabin. He pried up some floorboards and dug a deep hole. This was where he buried those remains. Way down in the dark earth.

Upon returning home, Rex paid close attention to the news reports. The officer's name was Travis Clevenger. He had been performing a routine patrol of the neighbourhood when he went missing. No one had seen or heard anything. For this, Rex was lucky.

Clevenger must have heard the fit he'd been throwing in his apartment and rushed in. With the Miraclo in his system, Rex must have killed him in seconds. Soundlessly. Efficiently.

Despite the unbearble guilt that chewed at his guts, Rex was relieved that no one knew what became of Clevenger. But then again... someone knew. And because that someone knew, because that someone saw everything, Rex would spent all eternity writhing in the scorching belly of Hell.

He knew it instinctively.

 

[Batman]

I feel blood start to boil as I just look at Joker. He's wearing my patience thin.

"What's your affiliation with Harvey Dent?"

The Joker didn't make a sound. But inwards, he was trying his best to subdue the giggles that were boiling just beneath the surface. Oh, how positively funny it'd be to see the look on Dent's face if the madman decided to, simply put, betray the gangster and his little band of freaks that he himself had taken a part in rounding up. How funny it'd be, indeed, to see the anger and the rage on Harvey Dent's face. Both of them!

But The Clown Prince also knew something else about the plan Dent had hatched. If things went accordingly, he would be offered another chance to screw around with Batboy's head. Or even better... turn the preverbial Dark Knight into a crockpot loopier than he was. No, The Joker had no intention of betraying Dent's little fun and games. He did, however, have every intention of pushing Gordon even harder. After all, what good would come out of spending time in a cage if he couldn't have a little fun with his captors?

"Oooh. Eee. Ahh. Dent. Harvey Dent, why does that name seem so familiar?", The Joker mockingly questioned, stroking the elonged chin of his mask, as if in a state of ponderence. "Wasn't he the guy that got a really bad tan? HAHAHA!"

The Joker threw back his head, and cackled even harder, seeing the frustration in the tired Captain's face. Oh, what he wouldn't give to know what ole' Jekkel and Hyde was doing right now, having to entrust this part of the plan to him...

"Court is in session. We, the jury, find all of you useless bastards GUILTY!"

Harvey Dent had met his patience' end. Two-Face's had been met a long time ago. And now, a warehouse full of henchmen were paying the price for it.

Picking up a 22. calibur pistol from his jacket, Two-Face growled, and fired outwardly, finishing off a majority of the already wounded criminals that had tried to defy him, Freeze, and Poison Ivy. Though some of them were already either incased in blocks of ice, or stranged inwardly from poisoned thorn vines, Two-Face loaded them with bullets anyway, seeing no reason to not be cautious. As he fired, Freeze and Ivy watched, without remorse, as the villain finally let his steaming clip fall to the ground.

Harvey closed his eyes, and breathed. It hadn't taken this much trouble to recruit the others. But he knew that patience was a virtue. Two-Face really couldn't have given a damn, as long as the city itself suffered because of his actions. But both minds agreed to one thing: This city needed cleansing of it's filth.

"P... P... Please..."

Two-Face's eye opened, as Harvey's simultaneously remained shut. He had missed one. In the distance, on the other side of the building, a bleeding thug crawled towards him, unarmed, scared out of his mind. Reaching into his pocket, the scarred gangster placed another clip into his weapon, and prepared to open fire once more. But before he could, Harvey's eye bolted open, preventing him from accomplishing the kill.

"No,", He told himself, more literally than anyone could imagine. "We need him for this."

Even though Two-Face was cursing the District Attorney within, Harvey stepped forward, and sneered down at the thug, as he finished his crawl, and collasped at Dent's shoes. Bending over and grabbing the thug from the floor, Harvey angrily pulled him to his height, causing the thug to look away, in fear of Dent's intense facial scarring. But with a shake, Two-Face forced the thug to face him.

"Me and my associates bargained with you thugs for long enough,", Harvey began, with the slightest hint of annoyance. "Infact, we tried it twice. And yet we don't have the goddamn answers we're lookin' for!"

The thug's brow raised, in fear, as sweat beaded down his face. He began shaking, but eventually, he managed to blurt out a response. "I don't know where he is! None'a us do!"

Gritting his teeth, Two-Face raised his hand, and violently slapped the thug across the face. It was all Dent would allow of him, and though he hated the hindrance, the hit was all the more satisfying.

"LIAR!", Two-Face screamed. "If we managed to learn that Black Mask's real name was Roman Sionis, what makes you think we'd believe none of you two bit hoods know his whereabouts?!"

The thug closed his eyes, continuing to convulse. "P-Please, man! I got a kid!"

Harvey smirked, sadistically. "Then let's hope you get heads, shall we?"

Dropping the thug, Two-Face pulled out his shining silver dollar, and instantly tossed it into the air. The thug reclused, crawling into a fetal position, as the coin that was literally going to decide his fate landed in Two-Face's gloved hand with a sickening snap. Harvey's eyes looked to it. But it was Two-Face that smiled, as he raised the revolver.

"Justice has spoken."

With two shots to the head, the thug was dead. And in Harvey's humble opinion, it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

 

[Byrd Man]

The Joker didn't make a sound. But inwards, he was trying his best to subdue the giggles that were boiling just beneath the surface. Oh, how positively funny it'd be to see the look on Dent's face if the madman decided to, simply put, betray the gangster and his little band of freaks that he himself had taken a part in rounding up. How funny it'd be, indeed, to see the anger and the rage on Harvey Dent's face. Both of them!​

But The Clown Prince also knew something else about the plan Dent had hatched. If things went accordingly, he would be offered another chance to screw around with Batboy's head. Or even better... turn the preverbial Dark Knight into a crockpot loopier than he was. No, The Joker had no intention of betraying Dent's little fun and games. He did, however, have every intention of pushing Gordon even harder. After all, what good would come out of spending time in a cage if he couldn't have a little fun with his captors?

"Oooh. Eee. Ahh. Dent. Harvey Dent, why does that name seem so familiar?", The Joker mockingly questioned, stroking the elonged chin of his mask, as if in a state of ponderence. "Wasn't he the guy that got a really bad tan? HAHAHA!"

The Joker threw back his head, and cackled even harder, seeing the frustration in the tired Captain's face. Oh, what he wouldn't give to know what ole' Jekkel and Hyde was doing right now, having to entrust this part of the plan to him....

Joker starts to laugh and something in me just.....snaps.

"Goddamit!"

My cigarette flys from my mouth as I lunge at Joker. I pin him against the cell wall.

"We don't have time to play games with you. No matter how bad you want him to show up, The Batman isn't coming. You're in our world now. The same world that we shared with the cops you killed."

I remove my .38 out of it's shoulder holster and press it hard to his masked face.

"If I put a bullet through your brain right now, what do I get? I go to jail, but I won't be put to death. I might even be aquitted. They'd see it as doing what's nessecary."

I pull the gun's hammer back and look Joker square in the eye.

"Now that would be funny."

 

[Batman]

I pull the gun's hammer back and look Joker square in the eye.

"Now that would be funny."

The Joker feels the gun pressed to his mask, knowing in any instant that it could, preverbially, send him to the big comedy stage in the sky. Yet he feels no emotion. No fear, no sniveling... not even a hint of anger towards Captain Gordon. Infact, the dear Captain seems to amuse him, as he throws his hands into the air, in mock surrender.

"Oh dear me, oh dear my! It seems we've got a Dirty Harry on our hands, folks! HAHAHAHAHA!"

Despite his crueler desires, The Joker doesn't touch Gordon, knowing it would only result in Sawyer and Loeb's retalliation. Instead, he simply stares out with those cold, dreadful eyes that each one of his victims last saw, in a frightful gasp of horror. It seems to spook Gordon, even for the slightest, barely seen moment.

"Oh by all means, Gordo, go ahead and pull the trigger. End the suffering of a thousand souls. Be the hero cop that everyone wants you to be. All of that elliterate bull****!", The madman exclaims, with a chuckle. "Come on, Copper! Fill me full'a lead! You know you want to!"

Gordon imbeds the barrel of the gun even deeper, ready to pull the trigger. For a moment, Joker actually seems surprised, as if he truly believes the good Captain is ready to put him out of his so called misery of insanity. But with a click, The Joker is free of harm, as Gordon slowly puts down the gun, and releases the already captive killer.

"Oh, but you can't, can you?", The Joker taunts. "No, you've got that moral ambiguity that all of you boys and blue have to abide to. Or otherwise, you'll turn into exactly the thing you hate the most... a mini me! HAHA!"

The Joker sits back down on his bench, as Gordon turns around, staring out at the room, not wanting to face the maniac's laughter. But he knows that he's hit a nerve with the Captain. And if he kept it up, he'd drive him, and all of Gotham as batty as it's unacclaimed protector.

Well, probably not quite as much.

"See, that's the difference between me and longears, 'boy.", He further taunts, placing his hands together once more. "I've got him all figured out. And let me tell you something about your little Caped Crusader. He's got that very same moral abiguity that you all pathetically have. Why is double faced Dent still on the streets? Why is Captain Coldfridge still running amok? Because he didn't have the guts to put a Bat-shaped bullet into their skulls!"

The Joker grinned, maniacally. Oh, how he loved talking trash about his enemy. And the sad part was, even in his twisted mind, he knew some of what he was saying rang true.

"You want to stick someone in a cell, Gordon? Put him in here, with all the other freaks! That'd really help your dear ole' Gotham."

 

[Byrd Man]

The Joker feels the gun pressed to his mask, knowing in any instant that it could, preverbially, send him to the big comedy stage in the sky. Yet he feels no emotion. No fear, no sniveling... not even a hint of anger towards Captain Gordon. Infact, the dear Captain seems to amuse him, as he throws his hands into the air, in mock surrender.​

"Oh dear me, oh dear my! It seems we've got a Dirty Harry on our hands, folks! HAHAHAHAHA!"

Despite his crueler desires, The Joker doesn't touch Gordon, knowing it would only result in Sawyer and Loeb's retalliation. Instead, he simply stares out with those cold, dreadful eyes that each one of his victims last saw, in a frightful gasp of horror. It seems to spook Gordon, even for the slightest, barely seen moment.

"Oh by all means, Gordo, go ahead and pull the trigger. End the suffering of a thousand souls. Be the hero cop that everyone wants you to be. All of that elliterate bull****!", The madman exclaims, with a chuckle. "Come on, Copper! Fill me full'a lead! You know you want to!"

Gordon imbeds the barrel of the gun even deeper, ready to pull the trigger. For a moment, Joker actually seems surprised, as if he truly believes the good Captain is ready to put him out of his so called misery of insanity. But with a click, The Joker is free of harm, as Gordon slowly puts down the gun, and releases the already captive killer.

"Oh, but you can't, can you?", The Joker taunts. "No, you've got that moral ambiguity that all of you boys and blue have to abide to. Or otherwise, you'll turn into exactly the thing you hate the most... a mini me! HAHA!"

The Joker sits back down on his bench, as Gordon turns around, staring out at the room, not wanting to face the maniac's laughter. But he knows that he's hit a nerve with the Captain. And if he kept it up, he'd drive him, and all of Gotham as batty as it's unacclaimed protector.

Well, probably not quite as much.

"See, that's the difference between me and longears, 'boy.", He further taunts, placing his hands together once more. "I've got him all figured out. And let me tell you something about your little Caped Crusader. He's got that very same moral abiguity that you all pathetically have. Why is double faced Dent still on the streets? Why is Captain Coldfridge still running amok? Because he didn't have the guts to put a Bat-shaped bullet into their skulls!"

The Joker grinned, maniacally. Oh, how he loved talking trash about his enemy. And the sad part was, even in his twisted mind, he knew some of what he was saying rang true.

"You want to stick someone in a cell, Gordon? Put him in here, with all the other freaks! That'd really help your dear ole' Gotham."

I don't give him the satisfaction of seeing my face, as I storm out of the cell and head towards the elevator.

"JIM! Where are you going?"

"I can't do this, Jill. He's right. I stay in there any longer and I'll sink to his level, I'll kill him."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. Maggie can take it from here. All I know is, that I can't. It'll only end one way with me."

I reach the elevator and press the button. It dings as the doors open and I enter it.

"I'm sorry."

The doors close and the elevator starts to move upward, towards the higher levels of the police station.

 

[Apprentice]

Arthur sunk heavily back into his bed, the corners of his mouth turned ever-so-slightly downwards and his brow furrowed in confusion; no matter how cheerful he forced himself to be around his companions, the weight of the truth returned to burden him every time he allowed his eyes to flutter closed. He knew that if he slept, he would dream...dream of what could have been, of what, according to McCaffery, should have been. The aged, enigmatic lighthouse owner had not approached him since their previous conversation - no doubt, he wanted to give Arthur time to adjust to the revelations. Arthur sighed as he contemplated his mother, Atlanna, and the very little he remembered of her: her smooth red tresses, her lopsided grin, her sing-song laugh. Surely, such a wonderful mother could not have been capable of conducting an affair that could lead an entire kingdom to ruin? Arthur, suddenly all too aware that he would not fall into a peaceful slumber with his mind racing so swiftly, swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose sharply, pulling on a simple white vest and leaving his room.​

At that moment, as if on cue, the night silence was shattered along with the apartment's patio window. Thomas Curry's startled cry emanated from below, and Arthur descended the staircase in a matter of seconds, his feet hammering relentlessly against the laminated wooden flooring. He did not have time to hurriedly call out enquiries as a throng of bizarre creatures whipped inside. They were not overly large, proportioned a little smaller than both Arthur and his father; it was their appearance that was terrifying to the pair, though. Their bodies were coated in pointed, ebony scales that flexed and squirmed with every movement, echoing the fluid expressions of the creatures' insectoid faces. Twin, emerald-hued eyes stood out from beneath sloppy, matted tufts of hair that dripped down to the deck. Arthur winced as their potent stench reached him, assaulting his nostrils with a strange blend of salt and a bitterness that the young man did not recognise. There was a crunch of glass and a seemingly human teen, no older than Arthur himself, stepped into the throng of monstrous beings.

"Dad. Get out of the house, now," Arthur breathed, balling his hands into tight fists.

Thomas swallowed hard. "What the hell...what are they?"

"I don't know. But whatever they are, they're after me."


Thomas' confused exclamation was cut short as the human at the monsters' back raised a hand, and they launched themselves forward. Arthur's fist, driven by reflex, snapped upwards and clipped one of his attacker's jaw. His knuckles were ripped into by the savage scales but the creature was repelled, the retaliation sending it hurtling back into the ocean. Taking no time to be outwardly stunned at his own display of strength, he turned his focus towards Thomas, who had salvaged a small pistol and was pumping bullets into the monsters; the metallic projectiles seemed to take hardly any effect, though, barely even slowing them. Within seconds, they'd be upon Arthur's only parent...and he could not allow that. He charged into them, one leg lancing out and propelling one of his enemies into another. They both fell, sprawled across the floor and began to scramble back to their feet. Thomas hurled his firearm into his son's firm grasp, intending him to squeeze the trigger; instead, Arthur brought it butt-first across another's face, only to be struck back with a rough fist.

He felt his teeth slam down upon each other and stumbled back. A second blow caused him to crumple to the floor, the world spinning around him. The alien predators seemed to have turned their attention solely to him, encircling him and growling menacingly. A foot lashed across his face and he fell even further, his forehead splitting against the wood. His gaze rolled to the ceiling as his father dashed to his son's side - and was seized by a pair of the beasts. Enraged, Arthur leapt to his feet, adrenaline surging through his veins...only for his will to fight to be subdued by the sickening crack of Thomas Curry's neck. A new, familiar figure appeared within Arthur's frame of vision, which was swiftly deteriorating as bile rose in his throat. It was John, the Mercy Reef newcomer that had befriended and surfed with him but hours ago. But he seemed...different, now. He was almost overtaken with the heat of combat, and the hue of his skin began to change as he dived into the fray. Arthur dropped once again, his weak, single sob drowned out by the thump of Thomas' lifeless body as it tumbled free of the monster's grip.

"Retreat! Retreat!" the human called to his monsters. Within moments, they were gone, leaving Arthur alone with John...

...who didn't seem human anymore.

​

"Arthur, I am --"

John's sentence was cut short as Arthur was claimed by unconsciousness.​

 

[trustyside-kick]

Fighting through what has now become almost unbearable pain, Hawkman grabs a part of the dented gate and pulls himself up with some difficulty.
In the months leading up to this moment he had never met someone so fierce. So strong.
As the robed man flew at stunning speed toward him, everything seemed to slow down. For a moment, Katar could sense everything. The massive wings closed in around him, enveloping his entire torso.

And suddenly, in a blink of an eye, Katar screamed like a caged animal. The wings jerked open to reveal his full, threatening wingspan. And he was off towards his attacker, fist raised furiously in the air.
And just as the two titans clashed, one thought entered Katar's mind.
A thought that he hadn't allowed himself to have for a moment.

What if I can't do this.
What if I can't beat him?

IC:

The two collide, and it seems Brother Blood's aerial attack was far superior as Hawkman is tossed backward from the impact, smashing into one of the trees of the park two blocks away. The fact that the fight had moved locations had not even crossed Brother Blood's mind. All he knows is that he must have more of this specimen; he must have more of his blood.

"This will be much easier on yourself if you just submit to my will, my winged friend. Or...we can prolong the inevitable until you finally break before my will. I shall not tire. No. So long as my thirst is satisfied, I will not falter, and I will not stop. You, however, will grow tired. You see? You cannot win, my friend."

Brother Blood starts to walk over to where Hawkman lays at the trunk of the tree, and as he passes a bench, and stops. With one swift pull, he rips the bench off the ground as if the bolts were merely there for decoration, and holds it high over his head.

"Dead. Alive. Screaming. Dying. It does not matter to me. The bitter sweet taste of your blood will be all the same."

With one confident, savage motion, Brother Blood hurls the metal and wooden composed bench towards Hawkman's direction.

 

[trustyside-kick]

OOC: Previously...

Spoiler

IC:

Despero flies through the stars of the universe, heading to his destination. This has been much anticipated and it is all that he lives for. To fail in obtaining the Flame of Py'tar is out of the question. He cannot fail, so he shall not. Anxious and determined, he is. Soon, he will have his sweet sweet revenge.

His own people, the proud people of Kalanor thought Despero to be savage and barbaric. The very image of slaying even one of his own kind with his newfound powers are enough to cause him to embark on such a dangerous and life-threatening journey in finding the Flame of Py'tar, and then bathing in it. What will happen to him exactly, that he does not know. But it can be described as nothing more than eternal power and greatness, and that is enough for Despero.

Although, he will not shed and share his hate with only his people, but the Green Lantern Corps. At the moment, those two priorities are all that remains. Personal vendettas, they may be...but they are all that matters to Despero's mind. As to what occurs in the near future after he has succeeded in said tasks, cannot be determined at this time. His mind is so focused on first obtaining the Great Flame, that he does not find the time nor patience to plan further ahead.

"Ganthlet and the other Guardians of the Universe sought to keep me from you, my precious Fire of Burning Might...but none can falter Despero's desires. No one."

Despero enters the atmosphere a small, dwarf planet and nothing but the thoughts of glory and power engulfs his mind. Soon, he will have it all. Soon...he will be complete. And soon...he will feed is never ending appetite for revenge.

IC:

The irony, of where the location of his most sought out of desires, is extreme. All this time, the Flame of Py'tar has rested peacefully in the same location, all these eons since its creation. The Manhunter ship Despero hijacked lands onto the surface of this large asteroid, some may call a dwarf planet because of its mass, and Despero can almost taste its power. All this time, located on an asteroid between the Sun and Mercury.

Legend has it that the terrain that this asteroid is composed of, is not like any other planet. Its birth takes place in the center of the Sun; the birth of the Great Flame. All that now stands in Despero's way, is the Cult of Elders who religiously roam the entrances leading to the Flame of Py'tar. It is to Despero's benefit, that he encounters one so soon; he has nothing to worry.

"You seek what many beings seek. However, none have achieved such a desire. How are you, then, any different, traveler?"

"My heart burns with passion; an undying passion to consume the Forever-Burning Flame."

"Your heart shall be put to the test, then, my friend. As are all beings are. Come this way."

As if by magic, a passageway is revealed with the mere gesture of the robed Old Mystic, and Despero follows him as he leads him to his destiny. The Old Mystic, as the two travel around the firey rock-like tomb, tells Despero of stories of beings who had previous failed. But that is just what they are to Despero; stories. He expects no less than the fact that all who have tried have failed. The Flame of Py'tar is his destiny, and his alone. The Old Mystic stops.

"Beyond this door, is the object which you seek. Now, tell me...is this truly what you want? Do you really think The Great Flame will deem you worthy? Or shall I show you the way back?"

"I can think of nothing more glorious, than to bathe in its power."

"Very well."

With one slow gesture, the rock door is opened. The end of the tunnel, is engulfed with life emitting from one potent source in the distance; the Flame of Py'tar. Despero wears a cocky smile as he walks down the tunnel, the Old Mystic smile too, only he wears a devilish one.
​

 

[Eddie Brock]

IC: DETECTIVE JOHN GRAYSON

"John? John, are you okay?" my wife calls out. I suddenly snap back to reality from the train of thought that I was on. I look back over to her. "You're zoning out on me."

I shake my head, clearing it of all the mental 'cobwebs.' I then rub my forehead while apologizing, "Sorry, but you know how it is around the holidays. There's been so much on my mind. We're holding a funeral for the officers killed by The Joker soon."

Mary nods grimly. "I saw that on the news," she explains.

"That could've been me, Mary," I blurt out. Suddenly, I feel like saying what I'm thinking. I get in those moods from time-to-time. "Can you imagine what that would be like for Dick? One parent hospitalized...another dead..."

"Don't think about that," she soothes me. "Nothing is going to happen to this family. And furthermore, Dick is a strong boy. He can handle what lemons life hands him."

I suppose she's right. But I still worry about him. Being a honest cop in Gotham lowers your life expectancy by several years. I've always been willing to take that risk, but Dick's already been through so much recently...

"He liked the jacket," I announce, referring to my Christmas present.

Mary smiles as she leans her head back on the pillow. "He always looked good in leather."
​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Gotham Lawns

The funeral is nice, as nice as a funeral can be. Almost every officer turns out in their dress wear. Loeb gives a good speech and they read off the names of every fallen officer. I feel my stomach sink slightly when they read Merkel's name. My mind goes back to that twisted grin that's permantly etched onto his face. They give the officers a 21 gun salute and Clancy plays Amazing Grace on the bagpipes.

"Maggie?"

I grab Maggie's hand as the funeral ends and people start towards their cars.

"Yes, Jim?"

"Find John Grayson. Tell him to meet me at the giant cross at the very back of the cemetary."

She has that look of recognition in her eyes and she nods. I nod back as I place my cap on and start towards the cross. It's far enough away from prying ears and eyes to talk. Everyone will be too busy leaving to notice him and I talking.​

 

[Eddie Brock]

IC: DETECTIVE JOHN GRAYSON

Maggie Sawyer approaches me shortly after the funeral. She and I don't know each other well, but I generally trust her. After all, she's on Loeb's list - which means she's a good cop. She briefly tells me to meet Jim Gordon. I can understand her urgency in getting the message out safely. A funeral full of GCPD officers is a melting pot for corruption. And Gordon is the top of Loeb's most wanted list, so a meeting with him is bound to contain top secret information.

I nonchalantly make my way to the meeting point to see Gordon waiting for me there. Again, I can't say I know him particularly well. But I respect the guy in his crusade against corruption. It almost gives one hope.

"Hello, Gordon."
​

 

[Byrd Man]

IC: DETECTIVE JOHN GRAYSON​

Maggie Sawyer approaches me shortly after the funeral. She and I don't know each other well, but I generally trust her. After all, she's on Loeb's list - which means she's a good cop. She briefly tells me to meet Jim Gordon. I can understand her urgency in getting the message out safely. A funeral full of GCPD officers is a melting pot for corruption. And Gordon is the top of Loeb's most wanted list, so a meeting with him is bound to contain top secret information.​

I nonchalantly make my way to the meeting point to see Gordon waiting for me there. Again, I can't say I know him particularly well. But I respect the guy in his crusade against corruption. It almost gives one hope.​

"Hello, Gordon."​

I turn around as Grayson says my name. I'm about halfway through a cigarette at this point.

"John."

I puff on my cigarette a few more times before flicking it off in the distance. The giant cross looms over the two of us.

"Let's walk."

We start to walk down the concrete paths, heading farther back into the cemetary.

"I want to talk moving, it'll make it harder for someone to listen in."

We pass the giant mosoleum containing dozens of urns that hold human remains.

"I've been reading your file. You're a good cop, have a good record. You're not spotless, but nobodies perfect, myself included."

I dig into my pockets and reach for my pack of smokes.

"I'm sure you know about my little group of 'Untouchables' as they're being called. I asked you here today, because I want you involved in it. You've been on the force for years and you've helped the good people and arrested the bad people. Like cops are suppose to do."

I find my cigarettes and pull one out. I light it up and take a deep drag off of it before exhaling smoke.

"If you accept. There will be no going back. You might face threats from your fellow officers and risk your life all for the cause of justice. Are you prepared to do all that is nessecary?"

 

[Eddie Brock]

I turn around as Grayson says my name. I'm about halfway through a cigarette at this point.

"John."

I puff on my cigarette a few more times before flicking it off in the distance. The giant cross looms over the two of us.

"Let's walk."

We start to walk down the concrete paths, heading farther back into the cemetary.

"I want to talk moving, it'll make it harder for someone to listen in."

We pass the giant mosoleum containing dozens of urns that hold human remains.

"I've been reading your file. You're a good cop, have a good record. You're not spotless, but nobodies perfect, myself included."

I dig into my pockets and reach for my pack of smokes.

"I'm sure you know about my little group of 'Untouchables' as they're being called. I asked you here today, because I want you involved in it. You've been on the force for years and you've helped the good people and arrested the bad people. Like cops are suppose to do."

I find my cigarettes and pull one out. I light it up and take a deep drag off of it before exhaling smoke.

"If you accept. There will be no going back. You might face threats from your fellow officers and risk your life all for the cause of justice. Are you prepared to do all that is nessecary?"

I laugh once, softly to myself. I should have known that this was what he wanted. I guess I was too humble to think that Gordon would want me in on his 'organization.' This is a big movement, and I rarely feel like someone who can make a big difference.

"Wow, you want me to join your group of the most hated Gotham City cops?" I ask. The answer is clear to me. I've always wanted to make my city better, and this is my chance. "Well, Gordon, I have to say..."

"Excuse me!" a voice calls out. My heart sinks. Did someone overhear us somehow? Am I already busted? What would they do to us? "Are you John Grayson?" the man asks as he approaches.

I swallow hard before nodding.

"It's your wife, sir," he explains. My heart sinks even further.

I turn to Gordon. "You'll have to excuse me," I explain. I leave Gordon with his cigarette as I approach the other man. "Yes?"

"There have been some complications," he replies grimly.

I know exactly what he's trying to say. Yet, I still want to hear him say it. "Yes?"

"She's dead, John."

 

[Byrd Man]

I laugh once, softly to myself. I should have known that this was what he wanted. I guess I was too humble to think that Gordon would want me in on his 'organization.' This is a big movement, and I rarely feel like someone who can make a big difference.

"Wow, you want me to join your group of the most hated Gotham City cops?" I ask. The answer is clear to me. I've always wanted to make my city better, and this is my chance. "Well, Gordon, I have to say..."

"Excuse me!" a voice calls out. My heart sinks. Did someone overhear us somehow? Am I already busted? What would they do to us? "Are you John Grayson?" the man asks as he approaches.

I swallow hard before nodding.

"It's your wife, sir," he explains. My heart sinks even further.

I turn to Gordon. "You'll have to excuse me," I explain. I leave Gordon with his cigarette as I approach the other man. "Yes?"

"There have been some complications," he replies grimly.

I know exactly what he's trying to say. Yet, I still want to hear him say it. "Yes?"

"She's dead, John."

Grayson's knee buckles as he turns away from the man he was talking to. He looks like he's been hit by a train when he walks up to me.

"John? Is everything alright?"

"I need a cigarette."

It takes me off guard. I've been a smoker since I was fifteen. In that time, almost nobody has asked me for a cigarette.

"Sure."

I reach into my pocket and pull out my pack, I remove one of the slim cigarettes and hand it to Grayson. He holds it out and I light it for him.

"What's wrong?"