• Secure your account

    A friendly reminder to our users, please make sure your account is safe. Make sure you update your password and have an active email address to recover or change your password.

  • Xenforo Cloud has scheduled an upgrade to XenForo version 2.2.16. This will take place on or shortly after the following date and time: Jul 05, 2024 at 05:00 PM (PT) There shouldn't be any downtime, as it's just a maintenance release. More info here

The "Ultimate DC Universe" RPG, Season 3.0


Overseer of Ultimate
Feb 4, 2008
Reaction score

Ultimate DC Text from http://galactus.genesismuds.com
Header retrieved by twylight, edited and remade by Master Bruce

.about the ultimate dc universe rpg.

Hello, and welcome to the third annual season of The Ultimate DC Universe RPG!

Similar in style to The "World Of Heroes" DC Comic RPG, this game allows players to enact and portray famous DC Comic characters, through an interactive writing and a continuity continued by the players themselves. However, this RPG takes place in a brand new, 'Ultimate' setting, re-envisioning classic characters and famous concepts for a new and modern age. We now join the various heroes and villains already established, as their third year takes shape. What new developments will shake the foundations of this new world? What allies and enemies will be made? Will the heroes of earth triumph over evil? The answer to all of these questions, and more, are simple...

You decide.​

- - -


Master Bruce - Founder & Head Gamemaster
Byrd Man - Assistant Gamemaster
Green Lantern - Game Moderator

The Question

- - -

. the 'Ultimate' World: History and Parameters of the Ultimate DC Universe.

The following posts contain, the parameters and history of this universe. Use these as a starting point, to get to know this world. What you do in it and how your character reacts in it is entirely up to you. Good luck!

.post one.

.post two.

- - -

  • Players can choose any DC Comic character they wish, and ''Ultimize'' them. Since there is no established Ultimate continuity for DC, some liberties can be taken. However, We ask that you at least try and stay true to the character's basics. (IE: Superman's an alien, Batman's a mortal, Wonder Woman's an Amazonian warrior, ect.) Don't make him or her completely 100% different from his/her's Regular DC counterpart.
  • This is in an Ultimate DC continuity. Meaning, this does not tie into the continuity of DC Comics. (IE: Superman never died, Batman was never broken by Bane, ect.) So don't play as if any of that has already happen. This is a NEW universe.
  • No Killing. Unnamed faceless NPC's (*Non Player Characters) are okay, but not comic characters. Someone else may want to take up the character, or they may be imporant to another story.
  • You can go anywhere on earth, or travel off planet, but do so within your character's means.
  • Provided you've proven yourself a capable RPG participant, you will be allowed the option of two to three characters. Characters can be reserved at any point during the season for a period of two weeks.
  • You are your character, so act like it. Talk like them, use their dialogue. Do not exaggerate their powers or abilities, or pop-up here and there without explaination.
  • Several stories can be going at once, and you have the freedom to interact with other characters.
  • Borrowing elements from other mediums aside from the comic books is to be kept to a minimum. But a direct adaptation is prohibited. This RPG is about creativity... Try to your own ideas above all else. (If you're stuck creatively, ask the gamemasters for advice)
  • If your character is closely related to another player's character (Example: Lex and Superman), it is strongly suggested that you PM the other player about your plans, so they can plan accordingly.
  • No Time Travel. (Unless someone wants to play an Ultimate Booster Gold, where the character needs that.)
  • You must post every two weeks, though it is preferred that you post more. If you go two weeks without a post without prior notice, your character is be up for grabs.
  • All regular Hype rules also apply.
  • Have fun.
- - -

The Blue Beetle

My name is Theodore Edward Kord. I am one of the three richest businessmen in the world - the other two being Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor. Of the three, I am the youngest at the ripe age of twenty-seven. My company, Kord Industries - while not on the same par as Wayne Enterprises or LuthorCorp - does fairly well. I started it only eight years ago at the suggestion of my parents. I scored a 1600 on my SATs, and I am a card-carrying member of Mensa.

Now that you know about me, it's time to learn who I really am. It is true that I have been gifted with incredible intelligence, but I never saw myself as the founder and CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation. That particular aspiration came from heavy influence by my parents. Like most prodigies, I was simply pushed into this lifestyle with no regard for my personal feelings. What then does Ted Kord want to do with his life, you ask?

I want to make a difference.

I promise - henceforth, I will not speak so ambiguously. Frankly, I cannot explain it. I just want to make a difference. Every day people see news reports on Batman in Gotham or Superman in Metropolis. It's no secret that the people of Hub City need something like that. Now, I'm not so egotistical to suggest that I could be that person - but I feel a strong urge to give it a shot.

As of now, I have only divulged my secret dream to my associate, Dan Garrett. He thinks that I'm either crazy, admirable, or a scary combination of both. Nonetheless, he has agreed to be my confidante and partner in this operation. I think if I tried to tackle this alone, I might lose my mind.

And ever since I was a child, my mind has been my most valuable asset.

On this particular night, however, I cannot make any progress in this grandiose dream of mine. You see, I have already made plans with one Rachel Bilson. Yes, the Rachel Bilson. Being young, wealthy, and eligible has its benefits. Rachel is not the first celebrity I have seen, and I would venture to say that she won't be my last. After all, I need to have fun somewhere, right?

Midway through the date, I find that I'm having difficulty concentrating. Don't get me wrong - it has nothing to do with Ms. Bilson. She's so attractive that she could be talking about the different shades of green, and I would be captivated. However, my secret ambition is weighing heavily on my heart - making it hard for me to concentrate on the gorgeous actress across the table from me.

"I mean, I wasn't wrong, was I? Ted?"

Ted? Oh, right. That's my name. I should probably respond then, shouldn't I?


Rachel sighs. "You weren't listening, were you?" she asks glumly.

"Sorry, but I was just thinking about something," I explain. There's no point in lying to her. "Please continue. I'm listening now."

Rachel nods satisfactorily before sitting back and continuing. "I mean, after all, it was his decision to just--"

"What do you think about vigilantes?" I blurt out. I suddenly realize that it was incredibly rude to cut Rachel off like that, but I can't bite my tongue. I want to know that I won't be ridiculed if I go forward with this plan of mine.

Rachel, needless to say, is taken aback by my bluntness. "You mean...like...Batman and stuff?"

I nod. "Yeah."

Rachel shrugs. "I think they're good people - even if they do seem a little strange," she admits.

I lean back in my chair. "I agree," I respond calmly.

"Look, maybe we should just go out some other time..."

Uh-oh. I'm losing her. Quick, Ted, come up with a solution.

"I apologize for my absent-mindedness. I've just got a lot going on at work," I lie. I know I said that there's no point in lying to her, but - in this case - I'll break my own rule. "Let me get the check, and I'll take you up to the roof of my penthouse for dessert under the stars."

Rachel smiles broadly. "I'd like that."

Smooth move, Mr. Kord.

I am at war.

Endless nights of self torture and hopeless battles upon one another have taught me that harsh lesson, night after night. Even with the progress my crusade has began to make, any true significance upon the city itself has yet to reach fruition. Some ask, with this in mind, why I even bother. Others ask that with this crusade, am I truly a protector, or simply one of the many people plauging Gotham, using both vengeance and hope to justify my means of existance? I wish I could truly say such thoughts were unfounded... but there is startling arguments to the contrary. Ever since my parents' murder... I seem to have attracted all of the wrong kind of people in the world. Ra's Al Ghul, my one time mentor. Harvey Dent, now the schtizophrenic Two-Face. Jonathan Crane, the sinister Scarecrow. Even The Joker. None of which existed before my arrival as a guardian protector to the city I wanted to save. It brings me back to the questions asked: Why do I do it? Why do I bother? Why do I care?

The answer, I've found, is quite simple among a string of complications in going into this war: I, unlike many, am one of the few people left in Gotham that still believes in hope.

It's that thought that constantly brings me out into the night, like this one. That, aswell as other information I've aqquired from the city's underworld. While I myself consider this to be war, a true urban war has broke out in the past few weeks. With The Joker placed behind bars, following his massacre, he's seemed to inspire others into lunacy as quickly as he was captured. There are gangs... homages, to his madness, that I've had to crack down upon in recent nights. Such chaos has moved the mob into deeper ground, making it all the more difficult to keep tabs on them. The truth is, they don't fear their madness. Not as much as they fear me, at least. But I think they're using it to bring back a level of power over the city lost following Carmine 'The Roman' Falcone's murder.

A clear example of this lies in the scene I'm viewing right now. Perched upon a docking bay crane, on the Gotham pier, my night vision scope picks up a far too familiar scene: Two armed guards at the door of waterfront 39. Three on each of the other sides, with the front set's purpose serving as a liason between drug pushers. I've seen too much of this in recent weeks... something's going on. Something considerably big, if the punk I managed to scare into talking was anyone to go by. According to him and multiple others from the same gang, there's going to be a silent trade tonight. But it's not drugs. That happens underground, now. What they're trading tonight is far more valuble, if they're to continue. A wanted german mafia lord was flown into the city at 7:32 AM this morning. I know this, because Bruce Wayne has more than a few reliable sources working at the airport's main terminal. With the germany gang came a considerable amount of 'unregistered' cargo: Weapons. They're bringing a heavy amount of artilery, in order to serve as hostile protection to the city's drug rings. What they're trading off in exhange remains to be seen.

The police could've apprehended them. And were Captain Gordon incharge, they may very well have. But Commisioner Loeb thought it to be a waste of manpower. Now, they're free make the trade without interference. No cop will touch them. Luckily, they're too at eased to consider my involvement.

I silently watch as a set of limosenes with foreign plates peel onto the lot. The guards step forward, speaking with the drivers, before moving them ahead. That's my cue. If I don't move now, the trade will be over before I can get the drop on them. Placing my scope back into my belt, I begin to work my way into the pier, climbing over towards the docking area off of the surrounding generator cables. If they truly feel as if they're going to bring guns into my city without concequence, they're in for a surprise. It's time to get serious.


I'd be a little more concerned about the screams, but I made sure to isolate this one when I made all of that commotion on the bay. Both from his companions, and any possible surrounding notice. With a sharp tug, I've pulled him up by his ankle. He thrashes, naturally... but by the time we've faced eachother eye to eye, he's quick to remain still. I can practically taste the sweat beading off of his brow. Every step I've taken to ensure he remains petrified with fear has worked, so far.

"W... Where...", He mumbles, in disbelief. "Holy ****."

"Yes.", I growl back. "Very much so."

"W-What are you...?!"

"Something you never want to meet again,", I assure him, grabbing his scalp. "So let's make this quick. What are you bosses trading off to the other gang?"

"W... I don't...", He mutters, shaking his head. "I ain't got nothin' to say."

Silence greets the air. Followed by more of his screams, as I let go of the line. But just before his skull reaches the pavement below, I grab it again, and pull him up. I don't have the time for games, so I'll take it out on him.

"You sure of that?"

He looks at me, ready to faint. But a quick shake convinces him otherwise, as he realizes that I'm not a nightmare that's about to go away, anytime soon. Eventually, he cracks under the pressure, and sells out the entire operation.

"W-We were contacted a few weeks ago. Some foreigner knew we were havin', uh... B... Bat troubles. They heard all about you, so they... they offered us, uh... protection. From you. Please don't kill me....", He pleads.

"Keep talking, and I'll consider it."

He catches his breath, and continues.

"T... Turns out, my boss is in the black market. Tradin' and sellin' ****. Y-you know. And a couple months back, he got his hands on a couple of, er... i-interestin' items. Some of 'em didn't mean **** to the foreigners, but... but..."

"But what?!", I ask, angrily.

"He had a set of jewels! Rare crap that nobody else cared about! But in the german market, they go for big bucks! I... I don't know how, but they got my boss to agree to a tradeoff! He didn't want money, so we got the next best thing..."

"A germanic cartel."

He shakes his head.

"N-No. It kinda... it started out that way, but we were more interested in the weapons. Besides, my boss... he didn't... he didn't want to bring down anymore heat on us. Not after the cops and... y... you."

I've heard all I want to hear. Before he can say anymore, I drop him again, and pull later than before. His head doesn't crack... but it hits the pavement hard enough to knock him out. By the time he's tossed onto the ground entirely, I'm already gone, making my way towards the waterfront. All the while, I can't help but feel as if I've stumbled onto a stranger operation. Jewels? That's new, to say the least. But easily effective, given it's a plausible alibi. The german mob probably intended to smuggle them back across the border by posing as a band of museum collectors, when in reality, they'd only sell the jewels for a greater profit to their goverment, given their rarity. Even so, it's still theft. Still illegal. And it still ends with more weapons in my enemies' hands.

I won't allow it.

"Zo, ghentlemen. Zet us continue on vith zis affair."

I silently cross the rafters above, just as they're beginning the trade. The german leader makes his prescence known. Accent's already a dead giveaway. But it's his physical prowess that really makes him stand out. He's heavy set... but strong, probably, given he uses minimal guards or protection. Unusually pale skin. Probably resonating from one of the remote islands from the region. The other boss, I've met before. Umberto Maroni, of the struggling Maroni crime family. After the death of their father, Salvatore 'Boss' Maroni, each sibling took up a shared majority of the empire left over. Pina took over the mob enforcement, while Umberto seized the drug cartels. His appearance here tonight is no surprise... if not predictable.

Adjusting my cowl-microphone, I listen in, silently draping myself within the shadows. I'd attack instantly, but apart of the element of surprise is waiting for an enemy's most vulnerable moment to strike. I want them to be fooled into thinking they're really going to pull this off, building their confidence... before pulling the rug out from under them.

"You got it,", Umberto states, with a sly smirk. "These all the weapons?"

"Zees are... ze beginning of zem, yes.", He replies. "My men are having ze rest flown in vithin ze week. Zees are zimply ze handhelds. By week's end, your men zhould have ze full zupply."

A later supply. Something to take note of, so I can intercept it when it arrives.

Umberto raises his eyebrows. "Full supply? What'a ya mean? I thought we were only gettin' a bunch of automatics."

"Oh, ve are delivering much more, Miester Marloni.", The german boss corrects. "Ze jewels are indeed zhat valuble to my organization. You must underztand... ve vully intend to leave ze country with zem in our possession."

Umberto grins, wider.

"An' just what kinda weapons are you talkin', Mr. Whale?"

Whale. Tobias Whale. Now I know where I've seen him before... he's not exclusive to Germany. He's an international narcotics pusher, selling to riffrafts behind the scenes. I first encountered his kind of evil when I brought down the Moxon operation on the west end. He's dangerous. And worse yet, he's got the power to prove it.

Whale chuckles to himself. "Oh, you know... ze standard protection againzt zuch ridiculouzity. I have zealt with zis myzelf, in New York. Handheld grenade... automatic range applicatzions... ze, how you zay, heat seekers?"

I sneer, listening to this. It's much worse than I thought. And Maroni's taking as much of it as he can in, with a clear amount of joy. He's that desperate for control of Gotham.

"Zis is not un problem, iz it Miester Maroni?"

Umberto moves forward, shaking Whale's massive hand, excitedly. "Oh, don't think a thing about it, pally. Infact, you may very well be the best thing to ever happen to this operation!"

"And I'm the worst thing to ever happen to it."

The entire room looks up, startled, as I leap down in an instant. Both men gaze in awe as I remove a handful of flash grenades from my belt, and toss them into the air. Their main wave of bodyguards are already affected by the flash by the time I land, as they drop their guns, trying to wipe the light from their eyes. I don't give them the time to recover. Immediately, I dig into them, knocking the first one into the nearest crate with a swipe trip. As the others begin to come to, I drop a couple of smoke pellets aswell, soon coating the entire warehouse. The rebreathers in my cowl's nosepiece generally allow me to breathe, as I silently make my way through the crowd, hearing numerous orders.

"Boss! BOSS!"

"Over there, he's... AGH!"


"What the-...The Batman! How'd he get wind'a our tradeoff!?"

"Obviously your men are razher quick to talk, Marloni!"

"Ah shaddup, ya fat tub'a lard! If I didn't need the weapons, I'd plug one in ya mysel-"

The gas fades, and suddenly, both men realize that all of their guards are down and out. Only I remain, infront of them, as I drop the last thug from my grasp, and slowly make my way forward. Maroni's quick to pull out a gun. But as quick as he is, the quicker I am, as a stray batarang slices through the crevice of his index finger and thumb. He drops the weapon, wincing in pain, as I stare at him.

"Been a long time, Umberto.", I growl, stepping over one of his men. "I warned you once. Obviously I won't be able to be as lienient, this time."

Maroni looks to Whale, frightened, before stepping forward, pathetically putting up his fists.

"I... I ain't afraid a' no freak!"

He charges me, yelling at the top of his lungs. But neither skill or grace are attributes that Maroni posesses. He swings at me, but I duck, grabbing his arm and twisting his elbow. It cracks, making Maroni scream, as I spin, and down him with a roundhouse kick. Easier than I imagined. But it isn't long before I hear a faint clapping. Turning around, I notice Whale's looking at me, amused.

"You are ze... how you say, Vatman, yes?"

"I am.", I respond, walking over to him. "And your selling weapons into my city, Whale."

"Your zity. Of courze.", Whale nods, with a chuckle. "Zell me, Vatman. Are you a man of opprotunity? I could make you a very zenerous offer."

"I'm not interested.", I growl. "Infact, I want you to turn your men and yourself into the police by sunrise."

Whale laughs. "Ah, but you forget, I am on stay by connection of ze German law. I am perfectly zettled in your Gotzam Zity."

Anger surges from within me. But nevertheless, I somehow find the opprotunity to smirk.

"Is that a fact?"


Whale hits the water, hard, struggling to keep afloat. With his size and stature, he'll sink instantly. And I'm well aware of that, as I hold a lifering in my hand, far enough away so that Whale can't reach it.

"Help me! I veg you!", He pleads. "I vill do anything zou want! Anything!!!"

"You're to leave Gotham City in no less than two hours, along with everything you sold to Maroni.", I order, dangling the lifering off of my finger. "And when you return to Germany, you're to turn yourself in, and confess to everything. The cartels, narcotics... even your goverment's corrupted officials. It all comes out in the open."

He's obviously hesitant. But eventually, he agrees, screaming as he begins to sink into the water.

"I vill! I vill! Pleeease!"

I throw the lifering in, and pull, just as he grabs it. Eventually he drifts over to a ladder, where he takes little time in climbing back onto the pier. But by the time he's made it, I'm standing over him, waiting. He screams, just as I grab him, and surprisingly manage to lift him off of his feet. I can thank the renforcements in the gloves, for that.

"And if you ever return to Gotham again, heaven help you...", I growl. "I'll hunt you down until your dying day."

He nods, understanding, as I drop him, and turn to leave. But a thought occurs, and I find myself making my way back into the warehouse. Might aswell make sure none of the others managed to sneak the jewels or the weapons out during the fight. Stepping around the unconcious guards, once I'm inside, I step onto the staircase leading to the upper office. That's probably where Maroni kept his insurance, should anything about his tradeoff end up going awry. As precisely as it did.


Something's wrong. I just heard footsteps inside the office. Taking out a batarang from my belt, I swiftly make my way up the stairs, holding my breath for another thug to easily take down. But by the time I sneak around the doorway, and peer in... my surprise overwhelms me, as I accidentally drop my weapon in shock. The person turns, revealing itself to be a woman, in actuality. A woman in a costume. And she has the jewels. For a moment, we stare at eachother, in silence. Neither of us expected the other, obviously.

"Well...", She purrs, as if a species of feline.


"This... is embarassing."

My shock takes a backseat to instinct, as I quickly move, trying to grab her. She flips over Maroni's couch with an agility I've never seen before, and kicks it, tripping me slightly. I land on my knees, teeth gritting, as she laughs, and leaps to the open window.

"That's what happens when a cat crosses your path.", She warns, before... strangely, blowing me a kiss. "Better luck next time, handsome."

By the time I've moved back to my feet, she's already leaped out onto the pier.

"Wait! STOP!"

But it's too late. I make it to the window only a few seconds after, and she's already out of sight. Only the unconcious Tobias Whale remains. But the jewels... they're gone. Dammit, they're gone. She got away. It's in this moment, in the face of ironic defeat, that I fully emphasize my original point...

I am at war. And it may never end.

"Okay, what do we got?"

I follow Officer Marcus Driver through the docks, the sun's just barely starting to rise. Another wonderful day in Gotham.

"Well, Cap. Looks like it was a trade gone bad."

I pull a new pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and beat the pack's bottom against my hand.

"What were they trading?"

"We're not sure. All the merchandise is gone."

I open the pack and put a cigarette inbetween my lips.

"Who was involved?"

I flick open my lighter and inhale deeply as the smoke fills my lungs. Sarah's been wanting me to quit lately, but it seems I've been smoking worse. I'm at about two and a half packs a day.

"The Maroni family and some international cartel. We believe they may be German."

I arc my eyebrow as I puff on my cigarette.

"What would Krauts be doing in Gotham?"

"Giving the Maroni's arms. Heavy arms. But they ran into one small problem..."

Driver leads me towards a crate. There Umberto Maroni himself lays unconscious, hog-tied on a crate, stripped down to nothing but his boxer shorts. He has a bat-symbol stuck on his head. I can only smile.

"Him. Right."

The Batman strikes again.

"What do you want me to do with him?"

"Book him. Take him Downtown."

"But Cap..." Driver curiously looks at me.

"Gotham Central is Uptown."

I remove my glasses and rub my face.

"It's an expression, Driver. Just take him to Central. Say hey to Montoya for me."

He laughs as he starts to untie Maroni.

"Good one. You probably see more of her than I do."

I turn on my heels and walk towards the warehouses' exit. My partner, Maggie Sawyer, waits for me with a smile on her face.

"Batman got him, huh?"

"I hope. We can get him on some charges, but nothing serious. I just wish we had the merchandise."

We get into the squadcar. Maggie gently places her hand on my shoulder.

"We'll get him. Just have faith."

I exchange glances with her, looking from her face to her shoulder. A slight awkwardness fills the air for a few seconds and she removes her hand.


"It's-...It's okay. It's just there are a dozen cops around this place, half of them would kill to have some dirt on me. Next time you do it, just wait until we're behind closed doors."

"Oh, I see how it is. I'm good enough for a cheap motel room, but not good enough for broad daylight."

"No. I'm married, Maggie. I have two kids. What we're doing is..."

"Wrong? Says who? I love you, Jim. Tell me you love me."

Maggie stares at me. I don't make eye contact, I just look forward.


I crank the squadcar, put it in drive and press the gas pedal. Maggie turns to look out the window, I hear her shuddering and can see the tears falling on her lap.

Yes sir, just another wonderful day in Gotham City.​

Season 3.0 - Prologue

Life had changed.

Life was good.

For the past month, Rex Tyler had lived everyday to the fullest. He'd risen with the sun and gone to bed long after the moon had sunk below the horizon. He'd danced like no one was watching and sung like nobody cared. He was happy. For the first time in God knows how long...

After the ugliness with Bannermain Pharmaceuticals and his horrible experience with Miraclo, Rex's existence on this Earth had been nothing short of blessed. He was clean now, for the first time in as long as he could remember, and his severance pay was keeping him afloat.

He owed it all to Amy. Her unconditional love and limitless support carried him through the storm. He loved her. He knew it now, in no uncertain terms. He was a fool to have tried to deny it. Well... he was a fool in just about every way one could be a fool.



"What are you doing?"

"Just... I'm just working on something."

"Working? You don't have to do that anymore, silly. Not for awhile anyways..."

Rex did not reply. He could be heard shuffling about in his office.

"Rex, come back to bed. You're wasting the morning in there."

"Hang on."

Amy sighed.

"Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing with y--"

Amy's speech was cut off when a puppy leapt into the bed and began licking her face.

"Hey! Whoa, slow down!"

Rex entered the room grinning broadly.

"Well? What do you think?"

"Rex, is this... what is this?"

"He's yours. Ours. You said you wanted a dog and I've always wanted a dog and now... dog."

Amy pressed her nose against the dog's and spoke jibberish to him.

"Wow... I can't believe it, Rex! This is amazing!"

"He's a minature schnauzer. Runt of his litter."

"Awww! He's a widdle baby!"

"Yeah... you can't talk to him like that."

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because I'm a man of science and I find it positively ridiculous."

Amy slaps Rex on the shoulder as he crawls into bed.

"Oh, shut up! What should we call him?"

"Well... I was thinking maybe we'd call him Rick. You know... after my father."

"Hmmm... Rick... what about Ricky?"


"Or Rocky! Oh yeah, that's it! That's his name! I like that!"

"But my father's name was Rick..."

Amy kisses him on the cheek.

"Yes. I know. If anyone asks, we'll lie."

They sat in bed until the afternoon, playing with a puppy who never tired. Though he didn't feel he deserved it, Rex had somehow slipped into a charmed life. He savoured every minute.

Life was good.

Life had changed.
Freddy Freemen/Captain Marvel Jr

Funny, how everything that you are used to doing can change so fast. You wake up eat go to school. See some friends then your back home waiting to do the same thing all over again. Doesn’t sound much like a life I know but that was what I was use to everyday of my simple life. All that change for me three days ago when I did something that even today I question. You watch on T.V. seeing and hearing about heroes like Batman and Superman saving the day. So you as a normal everyday Joe tell your self that even without powers that you can be a hero too, at this point though reality hasn’t hit you yet.

This is where my life changed for better and worse. I was on my way home and what do I see, some punk trying to make some money the fast way. He must have thought that the first person he sees he’s going to rob. Unknown to the lady that was minding her own business as she was walks down the street that she was going to be this guy’s victim. This is what you call a wrong place wrong time situation. Being the young and dumb teen that I am I decided that I can save this lady. I approached her mugger only to my luck to see he had a knife in his hand. You replay things like this in your head thinking about what you would do but when fiction becomes reality nothing really goes how you thought it would. The only thing that does go your way is the outcome. You end up saving the ladies life and now you’re her hero. The only people who knows about what you have just done are you the lady and the thief. Unaware to you there is another who seen your great deed and want to pay you for it but you didn’t do it for a reward so you think. Why do you want to be a hero you ask your self?

Then a man stands before you. Not just any man but an icon a symbol for justice, a legend a champion a true hero. No other then the Earth’s mightiest mortal himself, Captain Marvel. He tells you that with your unselfish act to risk your life for another that you will be the earth’s next champion. He bestow you with all his power but you see your self unfit and unworthy. The choice is no longer in your hands what is done is done. You are now the next Captain Marvel. First thing you ask your self is what do you do with this kind of power? Easy question and here is the answer, nothing. You get this amazing power and you do nothing with it. Nothing you say, why would you do nothing? And the answer to that one is a simple one as well. You don’t want to mess up the name of a legend. Power’s wasn’t the only thing that he pasted down to you. You have his image to up hold. The only way you can’t taint that image is by not up taking the duty given to you. The only person who has to live with this decision is you but at least you had a say in the matter unlike the one of you being given the responsibly.

Your everyday life doesn’t seem like your simple life anymore.

As I’m sitting down on the bench looking up at the sky thinking of all this I hear foot steps approaching. I look over my shoulder to see my friend Ashley from school.

“I knew I would find you here.” She said with a grin on her face.

“I didn’t know you are looking for me.” I tell her.

She then walks over to me and sits next to me on the bench.

“You would have known if you weren’t ignoring me. I have been calling you phone.”

I reach in my pocket and grab my phone and show it to her. “If it makes you feel better your not the only person I have been disregarding.”

She laughs and then says. “Disregarding, looks like someone has been reading the dictionary.”

“ Ha ha ha very funny.” I say sarcastically.

“I just wanted to be alone there are a lot of things going on in my mind. Things I have to figure out.”

“Like what?” She said with a concern look resting on her face.

“I would like to tell you but I can’t. To be honest with you I can’t tell anyone. This is something I have to deal with myself.” I explain.

“You know Freddy you can tell me what is bothering you without telling me what’s going on, I'm here to listen only if you want me to be.”

Maybe she is right the only thing that is really getting to me is that I can’t talk to anyone about it.

“What if one day you woke up and you felt like the weight of the world was on your shoulders? What would you do?”

I look in her eyes and I can tell she can see the pain in mine. She doesn’t reply but lets me continue.

“Something happened to me and now I feel like I have to be this great champion, theoretically speaking.”

I say just to make sure to cover all my bases. I don’t want her to have the tiniest clue to what I’m talking about.

“I feel that I have to do everything just right and there is no room for mistakes. I just don’t want this kind of pressure so I’m just going to give up.”

She at first gave no reply she just sat there and looks at me.

“Are you going to say something?”

I say to break the silence. She looks down at her watch and stands up off the bench. I guess when see said she’ll listen she meant just that because it looks as if she’s not going say anything.

Before she walks away she then says.

“To me a champion is not the person who wins all his or her battles and fights. To me Freddy a champion is the one who never quit.”

That was her words of wisdom as she walks away. I don’t think Solomon could of said it better himself.

“That was good. I would have gone with great power there is great responsibility or something along that line.” I say out loud as she walks away.

Maybe what she said was right. I need to stop running away from my responsibility and catch it head on.

I then stand up off of the bench and look around observing the area making sure that there wasn’t anyone around. As I see that it is all clear there is only one thing for me to do.


I shout. A lightning bolt came from the heavens and strikes me on the chest. On impact there was a little explosion. Once the smoke had clear I stood there as Earth new mightiest mortal, Captain Marvel Jr.


Passing out, waking up. Dying, fighting for life. Katar Hol was doing it all at the same time. After his battle with Brother Blood, Katar's bones were broken, his body bruised and his nerves on fire.
Make no mistake; Hawkman wanted to die. The pain was grueling to a point beyond imagination, and he felt like no amount of powers or abilities would keep him alive.
But he knew that when his strength failed him, his body buckled under the weight, Death had it's hand on his shoulder just waiting for him to let go....she would hold on to him. No matter what, she wouldn't let him go.


"Stay with me, come on! Somebody call an ambulance! Oh, God.."

He tried to reach out to her. To touch her. To feel her skin after all these years. But his hand would not move.



He could feel his body being heaved onto something. A gurney, he thought. But now, he knew, faced with the reality of having Shayera within his grasp and having her pulled away yet again, nothing else mattered. The mask, the wings...none of it. He wasn't Hawkman. He was just Katar Hol, and he'd give anything and everything to hold Shayera in his arms.

"Holy God, what the hell happened to this guy?"

"Got a call, him and some other guy dressed in robes got into it pretty bad. People said they were flying around, beating the "#$% out of each other."


"Hey, it can happen in Metropolis, it can happen here."

"What's the world coming to. Alright, prep him for surgery."



Gotham City. It obsessed the man known only as Bane. Even with the shakeups that had been happening within Wayne Enterprises recently, with Maxie Zeus, Bruce Wayne's name was still synonymous with the city. But that would all change very soon. In his quest to rob Gotham City from her favorite son, Bane had been systematically eliminating the foundations of many small-time illegal operations throughout this urban jungle. As a result, dozens of gangs were almost ready to collapse in on themselves, as they were lacking many of the pushers for their products. ****es, drugs, guns; they were all primed and ready to be sold, but all of the pimps, dealers, and traders on the streets were disappearing without a trace. As word spread, it was becoming harder and harder to find new help, until the hierarchy of the gangs began turning on themselves in their desperation. Some said that it was the Batman who was snatching these criminals from the face of the Earth. Others said that it was someone far more dangerous. Whatever they were saying amongst themselves, Bane was all too aware that he had competition for rule of the night, and the fear that ran through criminals' veins.


The Batman was the protector - the guardian - of Gotham City. That much was clear to Bane. Sooner or later, he would have to confront the Bat, and fight for the kingdom of Gotham. A wise warrior, however, knows his enemy, and where and when to pick his battles. And so, Bane had been keeping tabs on a number of high profile transactions that had been happening in the city, and had luckily chosen to watch over the largest scale activity in the city on this night, where Umberto Maroni and a German arms dealer, known as "Whale" according to Bane's sources, were conducting their business. He could not have planned it better himself; watching through the thermal setting on his mask's lenses, Bane observed the Batman cast smoke around the criminals and cut through them all like a knife. For the first time in many years, Bane was startled at something that he saw; the Batman moved very much like Bane himself - every stride and muscle movements were accomplished with precision accuracy, no effort wasted at all. To his trained eye, it was abundantly clear to Bane that Gotham's protector had mastered much of the same training that he had.

Without another thought, Bane left the scene before Batman had even finished with Maroni. Like a wraith, Bane was moving from shadow to shadow, across both rooftops and alleyways, until he came to the elevated train passing below his current position atop a small office building. Leaping onto the train, Bane would wait several minutes before he'd be in the area of his hotel, and would rest for the remainder of the night.


Throughout the whole ride, though, only a single thought ran through the calculating gears of his brain. Bruce Wayne is the Bat.


A grunt was all he could muster. Waking up to a sterile-white hospital room, tucked neatly beneath soft covers wasn't exactly what Katar had expected. Waking up period, wasn't exactly what he had expected.
His head was throbbing and his body aching, but he already felt better. It hurt something fierce, but he could feel his wounds healing. The sun was shining outside his room and he raised a scarred hand to shield his squinting eyes.
Did Shayera bring him here? Does she work here?

He hardly even noticed the fact that his Hawkman clothing had been removed. These last few months that costume had felt just as much a part of his body as his arms did. Looking down at his body, he noticed for the first times marks left by the wing-harness.

His mind quickly left the matter and went back to Shayera. She had been there. She saved him. He was still alive because of her.
Gritting his teeth, Katar grabbed the bars on each side of his bed as tightly as he could and tried to raise himself out of the bed.


"Woah, woah, woah! Settle down there, sir, don't make have to cut you open again."

Katar hadn't noticed the middle-aged, brown haired doctor walk in, clipboard in hand, wearing thick rimmed glasses. He let himself fall back in bed and looked the doctor in the eye.

"At least you're spirit as healthy as a horse's. I'm Dr. Thorne, Dr. Matthew Thorne. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm the reason you're still alive."

The doctor smiled nervously. "Where..." Katar spoke, but his throat was dry and his sentence turned into a cough.

"Oh, sorry about that." Dr. Thorne hurriedly paces over the a small sink next to Katar and turns the faucet on. He grabs a small plastic cup, fills it with water and hands it over to Katar, who empties the cup in the blink of an eye.

"You'll be needing plenty of fluids." Thorne says as he gestures to the faucet. He takes a moment to scribble something on his clipboard, after which he reaches into one of the pockets on his white coat and pulls out a small flashlight. "Let me just see..."
Sitting down beside Katar, Dr. Thorne clicks the flashlight and shines the light in each of his eyes. "Good, good....Faaantastic."

Clicking off the light and standing back up, Thorne continues writing.

"How long have I been here, doctor?" Katar asks, almost not wanting to know the answer.

"About a month. The state you were in when you were brought in, I wouldn't have thought you'd make it 10 minutes." Thorne says without looking up from the clipboard.

"When I was brought in...was I..."

"Wearing a golden helmet and wings strapped to your back? Yep." Thorne answers, this time looking Katar right in the eyes.

Slightly stunned, Katar begins to form a response when Dr. Thorne removes his glasses and stuffs them in his breast pocket. "Listen. I don't know who you are, and I don't want to know. But I know what you do, and I support that."

A sense of relief comes over Katar. "Normally I would've reported your injuries to the police, but if the newspapers are right then you've saved a lot of lives. I do it with surgeries, you do it with a mace, so what? I figured we'd be a lot better off with you and the people like you out there than inside cells."

"Thank you, doctor."

"Don't mention it. Just remember this if I ever fall off a bridge." Thorne chuckles, before continuing in a more serious tone. "Mr....Hawkman, I've never seen anything like you. Your wounds would have almost certainly been fatal to anyone, but you healed past the worst in a matter of days! I mean, it was amazing to watch, truly."

"Yes, well, secret of the trade, I suppose. Listen, doctor, I need to ask you....when I was brought in here, was there a woman?"

"A woman? I don't...no, wait, now that you mention it....Yes, yes I remember. A woman, very pretty."

"Doctor, I need to find her."

"Oh, is she in some sort of trouble?"

Slamming his fists against the bars of the bed in anger, and then immediately reeling in pain, Katar gritted his teeth and growled. "I need to find her!"

Jumping in fright, Dr. Thorne backed slowly away from the bed and headed out the door. "Okay, okay, I'll go see if anyone took down her information."
Walking out the door, Thorne stopped and turned. "Oh, and your...equipment, is in that closet over there."

Rhiannon sits behind a microscope examining clothing fibers from a suit-jacket.

She backs away from the microscope and sips on her cup of coffee.

I've been here for a little over a month and I have already logged more hours in this lab then I did my last 4 months at Star-Labs. Not to mention that the whole dual identity thing is putting a serious cramp in what little social-life that I had. Now this caase...I know that this guy did it...I know the blood is there I can barely see it with the microscope...maybe it's time to get up-close a little more with this one.

Rhiannon looks around and sees no one in the room.

Why not?

She shrinks down to microscopic size and hops on the slide.

At this size the fibers are like vines, but...a-ha! Traces elements of blood in the fibers bright as day at this size...but the chemical agent would have hard time picking up such small trace elements. It would over-power the stain and ruin the sample...unless.

The Atom grows slowly back to normal size to make sure no one sees her change back.

Rhiannon grabs a vial of chemical agent.

Now in theory this stuff should shrink with me...if not...well I am going to have one beaut of a mess on my hands....and my clothes.

Rhiannon shrinks down and becomes The Atom and spreads the chemicals on the blood fibers.

Once again she slowly returns to normal size and then looks again under the microscope.

She smiles very broadly and dials the phone.

Rhiannon says, "Hey this is Dr. Palmer in the lab call Detective Jansen tell him I got Elliot's blood in the fibers...tell him it's a slam dunk....It'll hold up in court....all-right bye."

She hangs up the phone and smiles.

Am I good? I'm good!
Black Adam stood atop one of the great pyramids of Egypt, staring off into the distance. The world had changed so much since he had been away that it was difficult to tell where he was sometimes. At least Egypt hadn't changed... Much. But there was something... Different about his home. Something corrupt. An evil that had consumed most of the world. An evil that Earth's so-called "heroes" could not see. An evil that must be rooted out. Who better to do it than Black Adam?

He glanced a large vehicle in the distance, full of American tourists.
Adam did not like tourists.
He flew towards the bus with the speed of the gods and ripped the top right off of it. The startled and frightened crowd inside screamed as he floated down into the vehicle.

"Leave this land... ALL of you."

The Joint Part I

Metropolis, Maximum Security Jail

I sit on the hard concrete bench inside my cramped jail cell. I hold a small rock in my hand, something I found in the corner of the cell. I toss it up into the air, and catch it in the palm of my hand to pass the time. I must say, it is as boring as it sounds. Just a tick, a hobby, something to help me pass the time.

I've been here for thirty days, stuck inside a maximum security prison, mixed with the worlds most notorious killers and rapists. I got myself in here looking for a rush, hoping to find some kind of fire in my life. Unfortunately, the only thing this experiance has done is waste my time.

Since I got here, the other inmates have been suspicious. Rumors spread throughout the first week of who I was, why I was here. By now, the whole prison knows I'm Deadshot, master assasin who never misses a shot. I've heard talk, whispers in the dead of night. Word is a man called Danny Brickwell wants to fight me. Here say amongst these thieves and murders says he's the unofficial leader of this jail. Everyone fears him, and with new meat in the lions den, I seem to be his primary source of interest.

Above me, my room mate sits on the top bunk of the bed. He reads some magazine quietly, only making noise when turning the pages. As the clock's hands point to two o'clock, I hear the loud buzzer sound throughout the jail. It's my block's recreation time, where they give us time to exercise, meet with others, or just get a breath of fresh air.

I stand to my feet as a guard opens the dull metal bar door, and pulls it back. The door makes a loud clanking noise as the bars hit eachother until the door opens completely. My cellmate jumps down from the top bunk and lands steadily on his feet, tossing the magazine back onto the bed. He gives me a strange smile, and brushes past me with a laugh.

"See you outside, Lawton." He calls back as he is hearded in with the other men, making their way outside. The guard smiles at me as I slowly walk out of my cell. He knows who I am, and he knows what the prisoners have been planning. They all think they're smart, clever, and cunning. They act as if I have no clue about what is about to happen. At least I'll have that going for me.

A few moments later, I step out into the yard. I see all the men outside waiting in a large circle, eagerly waiting. They yell and whisper to each other as I walk to the center of the hearding, my face showing no emotion. As I step into the dead center of the yard on the hot concrete ground, I hear everyone fall silent. From behind a large grouping of prisoners steps out Danny "Brick" Brickwell.

"Lawton..." He says in a deep thunderous voice, a grin coming across his face. Brickwell apparently suffers from a skin disease. It explains his hideous red tinted skin. Word is he was mocked as a kid, always being called names. Time and lessons taught him to get stronger. Now the guy is five hundred pounds of concentrated rage and muscle, all focused on me. Luck for me, I won't have to share with anyone.

"Brick." I respond coldly, my body still standing straight and unphased.

"You actually came out to play today, huh? You've got guts, man. I respect that. Standing up to me here, most men run."

"I'm not most men."

"How I've heard." He growls as he takes off his orange shirt, tossing behind him. "Deadshot." Brick smirks, rubbing his fists as he slowly approaches me. "I've heard all about you, Deadshot. How you wound up here. You were suppossed to be the best shot on the planet. Guess you aren't, considering you missed Turpin."

"I didn't miss." I say calmly, my rage starting to boil inside me. "My shot was interupted." Brick begins to laugh, his voice resonating in his throat.

"Whatever helps you sleep, Deadshot." Brick stops a few feet in front of me, his body towering over mine. He looks down to me, his eyes seeming to glow in the sun's rays. "I'm going to break you in two, Lawton. It's not everyday I get to kill one of the world's best assassins, so excuse me if I enjoy this a little too much."

The crowd falls silent as everyman stands waiting for the next move. I look Brick up and down, examining every inch of his physique. Brick continues to stare at me, an axious grin on his face. After a few moments of silence, I sigh, and slowly raise my head to look up to him.

"Anything you want to say before I crush you into the dirt?"

"Yes." I say quickly, a smile coming across my face. "You are one ugly mother ****er." Brick moves his head back, his grin quickly changing to a frown. As he growls in rage, I hear the snickers and laughs from the prison spectators.

"Shut up!" Brick yells back to the others, his teeth clenched tightly. "I'm going to rip you to shreds with my bare hands!" He roars, his temper flairing wildly.

"Come on then." I say waving my hand, hoping to irritate him further. "You're boyfriends are waiting."
(IC: Metallo)


Lieutenant John Corben of the Metropolis Police force hides behind a police car, his back forced against the metal door. In his hand he holds his gun, pointing it toward the sky, ready to fire. Next to him crouches his partner, rookie Jim Caveral. Five minutes earlier, Corben and his partner responded to a break in at the bank in Midtown. As Corben arrived, he soon found his foe was much more than formidable, or sane.

On the other side of the police car stands the mad man, firing randomly and rapidly at the two police men. As one of the lights mounted a top the car is shot out, the siren screams louder in the middle of the street. The bullets ricochet off the metal hull of the vehicles, narrowly missing Corben as he tries to rise high enough to get in a shot.

"Come on, cops!" The criminal yells. "If you were smart you'd just lie down and let me go! But no! You had to try and be the heroes! What's a few thousand dollars from the bank, huh? Is it worth your lives?" The man shouts, sending another barrage of bullets toward Corben.

"Damn this guy..." Corben curses, his finger gripped on his trigger. "Jim, make a distraction so I can get this guy."

"What do you mean?" Corben sighs, his tone showing his aggravation.

"I mean draw his fire! Run in front of the car, I'll shoot him and we can go home, okay?" Jim looks at Corben with a look of fear and confusion.

"Won't I get shot?" He asks concerned.

"Not if you're fast, caddett!" Corben says with a smirk. "Just go! I'll cover you!" Jim stays still, listening to the screams and rants of the shooter.

"Lietenant, this guy is crazy!"

"All the more reason we should take him out, huh?" Suddenly, a piercing screech fills the air as one of the tires on the car blows out from a bullet. The care shifts to the right, exposing the two police from the bottom of the vehicle. The shooter laughs as he takes aim.

"Got you!" He says taking another shot. Corben rolls out of the way, barely escaping the assault of bullets. Just then, a calls comes in on Corben's radio, the voice of his dispatch soft and crackled.

<Corben! Corben, come in!>

"Yeah, this is Corben." He says speaking into the receiver on the radio.

<Are you okay there? Do you need any back up?> Corben shifts his eyes, looking around the area for a moment before responding.

"No, we're fine."

"Fine?" His partner yells. "We're dying out here!"

<What was that?>

"Nothing!" Corben responds quickly, throwing an angered stare to his partner.

"Come on, die! Die!" The man yells in the close distance, his guns still firing the deadly bits of lead into the air.

<Corben, are you sure you're fine? It sounds bad over there.>

"I said we're fine! I can handle this!"

Just as Corben's finger releases the button on the radio, a quick rush of air blows down the street, kicking paper and bits of trash into the air. As Corben feels the swift wind on his skin, a frown quickly comes to his face.

"Damn." He says with a dissapointed tone. "Him."

With every war, there comes a considerable amount of opposition. From the more obvious... to the absolutely unpredicted.


Last night's jewel theft, I've found, wasn't exactly the first. After touring through a number of news archives from the recent weeks, looking through every magazine from Gotham Insider to the Globe, I've found quite a number of headlines matching similar eyewitness accounts to my own. Weeks ago, infact, Mayor Cobblepot himself publically expressed outrage when a rare collection of prized Maltese pendants were taken from his personal penthouse collection. Only hours later, it was revealed that the culprit was caught on camera by Cobblepot's lavish security system. The image revealed the outline of a woman. A woman in a mask, draped in black with unusual goggles covering most of her face.

Most outlets are referring to her as 'The Cat', given that she scratched a security guard across the face while making her escape in a robbery a week ago. I'm more inclined to prepare another nickname; Sloppy.

As cunning as she apparentally is, she already displays a clear pattern, I've noticed. She never steals anything past the thirty million mark, Cobblepot's pendants just breaking thirty five. That indicates that she obviously does her homework before going after something that's caught her eye. Another thing that I noticed is her trained agility. No woman, nor man, could possibly move like she did. I've considered the possibility of metahuman attributes, but it's highly doubtful. She could have simply combined various training regimines under a number of teachers. And to gain inside information on the valubles she steals, she would either have to be a socialite, or from the streets, given the underground trade society that's built up in Gotham over the last year.

Exiting the window on the computer, I rub the bridge of my nose, in exhaustion. I've been at this for hours, ever since I returned from the scene. If there's anything I've missed, Gordon's men are liable to pick it up. I've... come to trust the eyes of the ones he keeps close. It's the others I have to watch for. But this... this just adds to an increasing pile of problems. A female jewel thief, the underground trades, the increasing amount of street muggings, and not to mention Harvey Dent, and his gang of psychotics...

"Boning up on that electronic dating phenomina, Master Bruce?"

I look up, as Alfred stands before me, still sewing up the knife cuts in my outer garment... the layer I've found that I need to consistently redesign, everytime it's damaged.

"Wouldn't have the time. I'm still trying to piece together last night's fiasco, Alfred.", I respond. "How could that woman have known the trade was going down? Surely, she can't be an insider to the mob. They're not that easy to infiltrate... I've tried, numerous times."

"Perhaps she knew the secret handshake, sir.", Alfred remarks, drly, before finishing up the seam. "In any case, you may need to add another layer to this. That's the fourth time this week I've had to strain to soak the bloodstains out of the cloth. And if that's the case, you're also going to be needing another armor."

Great. More to worry about.

"I'll get to it. The current suit's fine, for now."

Alfred simply shrugs, going to hang the it up in the new closet I installed.

"Very well. Far be it from me to express concern for your safety."

I can't help but smirk. Things have been... difficult, I admit, with everything that's happening on the streets. But Alfred's been putting on a commendable front in response to it. I can still hear the concern in his voice... and someday, I hope he'll understand that it doesn't go unappreciated. But for now... this war doesn't seem to be coming to any clear end.

"I'm glad you seem to be doing well, Bruce, despite all of your recent troubles."

Throwing on a smile as I pour the glasses of champaigne, I hand one to Lucius, over the bar of the billiard room.

"Well, I won't lie, and say I don't miss my post, Lucius... but, honestly?", I begin, taking a sip. "It's been a bit of a vacation, I have to admit. Gives me a lighter load to deal with."

Lucius smirks, with a nod. "I guess I can see where that'd be handy, with all that precious time you spend chasing girls, on the Gotham strip."

I chuckle. But not for the reason he suspects.

"Hey, who says being out of work means being out of practice? Besides, I hear you've been hitting the circuit yourself, quite recently."

Lucius shakes his head.

"Merely buisness. Boss's instructions, actually.", He scoffs. "He says a good CEO is one who gets to better know their employees. Funny thing is, I get the feelin' he just wants to handle matters on his own."

There's a clear amount of silence, as I take my next sip. Followed by an urge to express my... thoughts, about Mr. Zeus. But I keep it to myself. I know that, in the end, Lucius was looking out for his family more than he wanted to betray me by staying on. I don't... and can't blame him, for that.

"So how is Maxie, these days?", I ask, lightly. "I never got the chance to officially hand over the reins. Guess the board executives wanted me out as soon as possible."

"Wouldn't surprise me for a damn minute. As for Zues, well...", Lucius begins, taking another sip. "Needless to say, I'd rather see you in that big office rather than him, but he's getting things done. The important things, anyway. And that's what worries me."

I raise an eyebrow.


He nods. "Even with all the competiting properties he's gotten to foreclose, and all the million's he's saved us, we've still got buyers breathing down our necks. At least you managed to charm them away, from time to time... but Zues? He wants them to beg. He treats it all like we're at war, or something."

I take another sip of my glass, trying to delay a response.

Perhaps my mentality of how to handle Gotham's criminals isn't as far stretched from Zues' intentions then I realized. But then again, I can't help but feel as if that could be a bad thing. This isn't the first I've heard of Zues' reputation as a buisness tyrant... even before he took over my company. That's why I've never been able to let it go. But there have been so many distractions, lately, that's it's made it hard to keep track of. I don't even know if it's a winning battle anymore.

At least now, though, I have allies I can truly trust that could help ease the burden of my other activities...




I always knew that Jim had been growing... uncertain, about our allieance. But he's always managed to tolerate me, citing me as a nessecity in order to root out the sources of the corruption that plague our city. But bringing an outsider into the fold... well, it nearly brings me to believe he's becoming less faithful in that.

I decide to listen, anyway. There could be a reasonable explaination.

"Thanks for coming. I realize this looks...", He begins, looking back at the other officer. "Well, for you, I'd imagine, this looks strange. Batman, this gentlemen is Detective-"

"Detective John Grayson."

Both men turn to me, eyes widened, in clear surprise of my announcement.

"He's served with the Gotham City police department for roughly sixteen years, following the birth of his son. Graduated the academy in 1995, enrolling in the force as a street officer in the following year. Qualified for a promotion three months ago, but was rigorlously denied, pending Commisioner Loeb's orders.", I continue, displaying facts that he's obviously surprised to find out that I know. "I've read your file, just like everyone else's in the force. You're... one of the better ones, if Loeb doesn't like you. But that's not the point."

I turn to Jim, arms crossed.

"Why bring him here?"


It had taken some time, but in the end, it was all worth it. First, he had to study the specimen heroes, witnessing all of their strengths and weaknesses. Once he was able to deduce such a thing, he could evaluate them further; the heroes of Earth will never know what hit them.

And by evaluate further, he had to leave the planet Earth for a short time. He had to go back to the Source Wall for the next part of his preparation. And that part of the plan, was the most fun for him. What hides behind the Source Wall was the answer to the question of how one deals with Earth's mightiest heroes. And what hides behind the Source Wall, also led to more and more investigating and evaluating. But luckily, with his teleportation abilities, it took Despero but a second's time to travel across the universe and back.

A month had passed, and he was finally ready. One thing he had come across his studies was most peculiar regarding two heroes: both of alien origin. Neither can truly call Earth they home, yet they roam its atmosphere and its surface, protecting the planet as they would their own. One of the two alien beings posed more interest to Despero than the other: a kind of link the two have. Despero had scanned the Earth numerous times to prevent miscalculation. The Martian Manhunter from Mars, J'onn J'onnz, was no doubt the most powerful telepath of that planet. It would be him he must pay a visit first.

While there was no sort of organization amongst Earth's greatest heroes, nor were there any true ties that bonded themselves, Despero simply could not risk the Martian acting like a beacon, calling out an SOS to the other Earthlings, spoiling his plans.

And so, after drifting in space, just out the Earth's atmosphere, after pinpointing the Martian Manhunter's current location, Despero's third eye glows, and he flashes away in an instant.
As far as threats to his physical person went, Alex Trent wasn't very far up the list. This hate monger had long ago assumed the alias of "Bloodsport" and had a surprising cult following in Metropolis. However, it seemed as if Trent's cult and its funding had fallen on hard times, if he was resorting to bank robbery. This was actually the first time that Clark had ever encountered Bloodsport, as the Metropolis Police Department had always managed to put an end to his rampages before.

But this was different.

Yes, in his previous outbursts, Trent had been known for sporting high-tech weaponry, but that had always been the most threatening he had been. Now, however, Bloodsport seemed to have an entire arsenal at his disposal. During his assault on the police, Trent had exhausted numerous energy weapons and rocket launchers; all of which were lying spent at his feet, but he still had guns in his hands, and no expression on his face to indicate that he was worried about running out of ammunition or weapons. The most puzzling element of this situation, though, was Bloodsport's lack of backpack or anything else that he could have been carrying his arsenal with. Where were the guns coming from?
"Come on, die! Die!" The man yells in the close distance, his guns still firing the deadly bits of lead into the air.
"I don't think so, Bloodsport."
"I said we're fine! I can handle this!"

Just as Corben's finger releases the button on the radio, a quick rush of air blows down the street, kicking paper and bits of trash into the air. As Corben feels the swift wind on his skin, a frown quickly comes to his face.

"Damn." He says with a dissapointed tone. "Him."
From the second that Superman arrived on the scene, no more of Trent's bullets found their targets. Appearing in front of Bloodsport, Superman raised his hands and opened them, for Trent to see all of the lead projectiles he had fired and the Man of Steel had caught at superspeed. Turning his hands over to let the bullets rain down onto the steps of the bank, Superman looked angrily at the villain, his eyes glowing red at the thought of the lives that Bloodsport had taken that day. No more.


In a single swift motion, barely perceptible to the human eye, Clark grabbed both guns from Bloodsport and swung one of them at his head, sending Trent into the wall of the building. The blow wasn't hard enough to seriously harm the man, but it should have definitely given him second thoughts about continuing his attacks.

Or maybe not. Staggering back to his feet, Trent tore off the bloody lower part of his full-face mask, and spit out a tooth.


[BLACKOUT]"You think you're hot s**t, don't you, alien?"[/BLACKOUT] sneered Bloodsport. [BLACKOUT]"Coming to our planet, breathing our air, drinking our water. God only knows what kind of alien germs you've been giving us. Well, I've got something to give you!"[/BLACKOUT] With that, Trent opened his hand and Superman watched as a high-yield Toastmaster cannon materialized in Bloodsport's grip.

It finally made sense. Bloodsport had been somehow teleporting weapons to his location, from some hidden storage area. Once Trent was dealt with, Clark would have to tell the police about it, and help locate the hidden arsenal. [BLACKOUT]"I doubt even you will come out lookin' fresh after thi- GAH!"[/BLACKOUT] Not even waiting for the madman's sentence to be finished, Superman crushed the barrel of the gun and hit Bloodsport once more, this time knocking him unconscious.

Seeing that the threat had been taken care of, police officers began pouring onto the steps and cuffing the limp Bloodsport. "Things keep getting stranger and stranger these days," Superman sighed.
One Month Ago

I turn to Jim, arms crossed.

"Why bring him here?"

I stare at Batman over my glasses, my fresh cigarette dangles on my lips.

"Because I trust him. I'm pretty sure you know this already, but I have a group of honest cops I'm working with. We meet in secret and battle the corruption of our own department."

I look off into the dark and smile.

"They've taken a shine to calling us The Untouchables. And that's what worries me, because in a city like Gotham. Even you are touchable. Officer Grayson brought me some information that is important. WE have a rat in my group, a undercover officer I have inside Fat Tony Zucco's organization confirms John's information. I called you here tonight to ask you for your help, we you do whatever it is you do to find out who the rat is."

I watch pleasantly from the stands as Dick leads his soccer team to yet another victory. Two more and they've clinched the division. Even though he's celebrating with his friends, I still see him look for me in the stands. When our eyes meet, I simply smile and nod. After seeing my approval, Dick goes back to celebrating with his friends.

After the game, I catch up with the star athlete. "You played a Hell of a game."

Dick shrugs while carrying his duffel bag over his shoulder. "I shouldn't have missed that shot in the second half," he reprimands himself. It's amazing. The people best at their hobby are the ones who scold themselves the most.

"Does that really matter now?" I ask disbelievingly. I pat him on the shoulder. "You won the game."

"I guess not, but aren't you the one who said it's not about winning - it's about doing your best?" Dick smirks.

I laugh. "Son, if you can win like that without doing your best, than no one stands a chance when you put your mind to it."

We are silent for the next minute or so until we reach the car. Dick tosses his duffel bag into the back and buckles himself in. After I get in the car, I feel compelled to say, "She would've been proud of you today."

Dick says nothing back. Instead, he merely stares out the window. I can see that some of his teammates are being congratulated by both of their parents. I instantly look away.

"Look, I know this has been a taboo topic, but we have to talk about it," I urge. Dick is still silent. I know it's hard for him, but he can't bottle it all up. "She's gone, Dick. Your mother is gone. Now, there's nothing I can do about that. But I'm trying to be the best damn Dad I can be..."

"You're doing great, Dad," Dick assures me.

"Sometimes I feel like it's not enough, Dick," I explain. "I can't begin to tell you how to cope with this. Hell, I still haven't coped with it. But you have other things to think about right now - school, sports, college..."

I pause for a moment. When Dick does not intercede, I continue.

"This kind of thing can destroy you if you're not careful. I'd hate to see someone your age follow the wrong path. Plenty of the kids I catch on the street are no different than you..."

It's a scary realization. But as long as I have breath in me, I will not let Dick reduce himself to that. My son has a great future ahead of him, and I won't let one instance of grief ruin that all.


I stand completely silent as Batman and Jim talk to one another. Clearly they've met before. Honestly, I feel like a little kid meeting a celebrity for the first time. I have no clue what to say right now.
I stare at Batman over my glasses, my fresh cigarette dangles on my lips.

"Because I trust him. I'm pretty sure you know this already, but I have a group of honest cops I'm working with. We meet in secret and battle the corruption of our own department."

I look off into the dark and smile.

"They've taken a shine to calling us The Untouchables. And that's what worries me, because in a city like Gotham. Even you are touchable. Officer Grayson brought me some information that is important. WE have a rat in my group, a undercover officer I have inside Fat Tony Zucco's organization confirms John's information. I called you here tonight to ask you for your help, we you do whatever it is you do to find out who the rat is."

I take a moment of silence to digest the information that Jim's given me. Even though I had a suspicion that a group was being formed from within the system, this is the first confirmation I've had of it. Knowing that Gordon is the one behind it's existence relieves me, to an extent. But with the news of a betrayl... I can only wonder how long it will be before he's stabbed in the back. Or worse.

There's a brief glance thrown at Grayson. I almost suspect him to be the culprit in question, but something stops me: He's clearly shocked. But he's not scared of me the way that a criminal usually is. They have something to hide... something that warrants caution, given that the criminal underworld knows that I fight for justice. Grayson doesn't. And if that tells me anything, it's that Jim wasn't misguided in trusting him.

"Very well,", I dismiss, leaving behind any doubt in Gordon's motives, before turning to Grayson. "What exactly do you know so far about this... 'rat'?"
I take a moment of silence to digest the information that Jim's given me. Even though I had a suspicion that a group was being formed from within the system, this is the first confirmation I've had of it. Knowing that Gordon is the one behind it's existence relieves me, to an extent. But with the news of a betrayl... I can only wonder how long it will be before he's stabbed in the back. Or worse.

There's a brief glance thrown at Grayson. I almost suspect him to be the culprit in question, but something stops me: He's clearly shocked. But he's not scared of me the way that a criminal usually is. They have something to hide... something that warrants caution, given that the criminal underworld knows that I fight for justice. Grayson doesn't. And if that tells me anything, it's that Jim wasn't misguided in trusting him.

"Very well,", I dismiss, leaving behind any doubt in Gordon's motives, before turning to Grayson. "What exactly do you know so far?"
"Just that Gordon has rattled Zucco's cages - and he is pissed off," I explain. "I've been doing some solo patrolling of my own, and I've gotten some tips that there's a rat in the group."

I shrug. "I won't pretend to be some kind of detective, but it wouldn't surprise me if there was a traitor."

God, talking to Batman is almost as nerve-wracking as my first day on the force. In fact, this feels a lot like a job interview of sorts. That is, if the job was public safety - and your supervisor was Batman.
"Just that Gordon has rattled Zucco's cages - and he is pissed off," I explain. "I've been doing some solo patrolling of my own, and I've gotten some tips that there's a rat in the group."

I shrug. "I won't pretend to be some kind of detective, but it wouldn't surprise me if there was a traitor."

God, talking to Batman is almost as nerve-wracking as my first day on the force. In fact, this feels a lot like a job interview of sorts. That is, if the job was public safety - and your supervisor was Batman.

There's a quiver in Grayson's voice. As if he's unsure of the information's legitimacy himself. But I know better than that. On several occasions, Gordon's life has been threatened by several of his fellow officers. The last one either of us knew of was Officer Merkel, who was gruesomely murdered by The Joker on that night in Robinson Park. Unsurprisingly, Jillian Loeb didn't seem to shaken by Merkel's death.

That was my first inkling of this. And Grayson's suspicions only continue to drive my frustrations directed at the corruption within the city's officials. If Gotham had a clean police force, there might not be killers like The Joker running the streets. There may not even be a need for me...

"Your suspicions aren't without merit, Detective Grayson.", I announce. "I've witnessed countless dealings, muggings, and robberies on these streets that indicated police involvement from within. Gordon and I have been working to try and get a list of names, but so far have remained unsucessful. A traitor in your group would only be logical."

I turn back to Jim.


"If I'm to work this, I'll need a list of every member of these 'Untouchables', and a reasonable amount of background on each. I can easily conduct my own investigation outside of your own observations... see if I can't come up with anything substantial. Whoever it is, if a tratior exists, they'll talk. I'll make sure of that."

"I have to say, Miss Bertinelli, you look absolutely stunning!"


"Yeah. Thanks..." I said sarcastically while sipping down my champagne. These idiots and their high society. Not a care in the world about what happens right under their noses. They can't seem to care about the crimes that take place in Gotham while they sit on their asses and do nothing but count their money...

"Well look who it is..."


My train of thought is interrupted as I turn to see Dinah Lance, fellow crime-fighter and was supposed to be my future sister-in-law. She must be on one of her investigations to come to such a high profile Gotham socialite gathering like this one...

"Hey, Dinah..." I greeted while getting up to give her an embracing hug.

"What's wrong, Helena? You look like crap..."

"Oh nothing... Other than your brother breaking my heart and stepping on it, meanwhile criminals are running the streets despite yours, mine, and the Batman's efforts..."

As I sat back down and took another swig of my champagne, she sat down next to me and wrapped her arm around me.

"Listen, Helena. Your not alone. You have me to help you. More importantly..." she paused, sticking her head in my peripheral vision.

"...You have me to talk to."

I turned and smiled at her. Despite her brother leaving me, Dinah was someone who I could actually call my best friend. She's the one who helped me realize my destiny. How to make my parents proud...

"Hey. You want to go kick some ass?" She asked in excitement.

"No thanks..."




"...I prefer to work alone."
"If I'm to work this, I'll need a list of every member of these 'Untouchables', and a reasonable amount of background on each. I can easily conduct my own investigation outside of your own observations... see if I can't come up with anything substantial. Whoever it is, if a tratior exists, they'll talk. I'll make sure of that."

I take a long drag off my cigarette before lifting up my hand and showing him the manilla folder.

"Something told me to bring this along..."

I hold up the folder and Batman takes it in his hand.

"Inside that folder are photocopies of all my officers' files. I had to sneak into Internal Affairs and steal them for a few hours to copy them. That has it all, their background before joining the force, psych evaluations, personal life. All of it."

I look at John while Batman thumbs through the files.

"Sorry, John. You know how Gotham is. We're all in there, myself included. Okay, Batman. We need to touch base on some things. What's the situation with Dent and the Arkham inmates? I've heard some rumblings about an incident involving Dent and a few of them down at the docks last week. Anything on that?"
"Sorry, John. You know how Gotham is. We're all in there, myself included. Okay, Batman. We need to touch base on some things. What's the situation with Dent and the Arkham inmates? I've heard some rumblings about an incident involving Dent and a few of them down at the docks last week. Anything on that?"

I run through the file, briefly taking in the information that catches my eye. The key similiarities between each officer are their track records. None have done anything of noticeable value, save for Gordon's arrests of the criminals I've handed to him. Detective Renee Montoya, for instance, was only promoted by the request of her ex-husband, Detective Marcus Driver. Beforehand, she had only worked as a beat cop. While Detective Harvey Bullock's promotion only came three years ago, following a scandal where he was put on trial for alleged extortion. The charges were dropped, even though Bullock pleaded no contest. I would guess this was because he was told to confess that, more than I suspect Bullock's guilt.

Loeb's toying with these people. Promoting them, depromoting them... but keeping them away from the important cases, just to remain in control. I can see the pattern Gordon followed in bringing them into this operation.

I stop at Grayson's file, just before reaching the folder's end. Gordon's words throw me off track, but I stop, as soon as I notice something. Grayson's wife recently died after a decade's long battle with lukeimia. That fact hits a nerve with me, causing physical discomfort as I close the folder and slip it under my cape. I... know what it's like, to go through a loss as close as that. Even with the shadow my parents murder hanging over my head, the pain of Talia's death in the Bhutanese village of Paragartha remains as vivid as ever.

"...Right. Two-Face.", I mention, trying to hide my momentary dwelling on love's lost. "There's nothing to report, thus far. I took the time to scour the East End, where he once lived, but none of the drug pushers of that region had noticed any bizarre activity. He's laying lower than ever, and worse, he's keeping the rest of his gang equally as scarce."

Gotham City.​

To the majority of the world, it was a mark of blackened dirt staining the North American continent. No one could deny that it was consumed by corruption, and its criminals were insatiable in their greed and lust for power. In recent years, its descent into darkness had accelerated, giving birth to a new breed of vigilante - the Batman, fearsome creature of the night. Rumours and shadows had cast a veil over the truth behind the bizarre Caped Crusader, masking his identity as masterfully as the cowl that was fitted across the top half of his face. Depending on who was asked (and in some cases, who posed the question), he was a defender of justice or a predator of the feeble.​

Either way, his concrete domain was still plummeting into the bowels of the Eath, and J'onn J'onnzz could only stand back and watch. At least, that was all he could do under the jurisdiction of Manchester Black and his sinister division; however, four weeks that the Martian Manhunter had silently promised to never address again had changed all of that. And so, as a result, J'onn found himself poised towards an weathered, wisened structure bearing the battered name: Gotham City Police Department. Even without extending a telepathic probe, J'onn could feel the near-tangible demoralisation inspiring disgust within him. Dishonesty filled the air in this city, it seemed.​

J'onn, in human form and clad in an overly-large trenchcoat, recalled lost memories of Mars, struggling to make a comparison between this alien environment and his true homeworld. Inwardly rifling through thoughts of Mars' many prosperous cities, such as Gusev and Ares Vallis, the closest he could come was the prison moon of Deimos; however, this had been a temporary measure used to quell a minor rebellion, and had been disused for thousands of years before the mass extinction of the planet's inhabitants. J'onn shook his head and an exasperated sigh escaped his forest-green lips. He could not find an equivalent of Gotham on Mars because there was no equivalent. It had been a paradise planet, free from flaw or imperfection. He could pick no fault in it...Earth, though, was a different story altogether.

"How far I have fallen..." he murmured, the simple declaration drowned out by the rain which hammed down upon him and the wind which whipped at his body. Moving hesitantly into the building, his long coat depositing a trail of broken raindrops, he placed his hands on the reception desk and allowed his gaze to settle on the young policewoman occupying it. "Hello, Miss. My name is John Jones, and I'd like to apply for a job here."

Users who are viewing this thread

Staff online

Latest posts

Forum statistics

Latest member
monitoring_string = "afb8e5d7348ab9e99f73cba908f10802"