The "Ultimate DC Universe" RPG, Season 3.0

[Green Lantern]

I don't even have the chance to move before he's dropped me with the kick. Didn't even see him perpetrate the facial wound, either, but it already stings by the time I hit the ground. Whoever he is, he's not only skilled... he's fast. Given his obvious lust for murder ontop of that, I can't comprehend how he ended up here, and not Arkham. But admittedly, it's come to a point that nothing surprises me about these madmen anymore - they've all got a game to play with society... with millions of casualties simply being another part of it.

And the point hits home, that until Gotham is rid of the corrupt... the only thing standing between them and that apocalyptic end is me. Wonderful.

As the killer prowls closer, I twist my leg and push, arcing myself off of the ground and backhanding him with a spinning punch. It does minimal damage, but it was a move never intended for long-term pain... only a simple daze, leaving the opponent winded for just the right moment of a far greater attack. Which I implement, as I kick off of the wall, and spin back towards him, sending a hard jab to his abdominals.

He writhes back, in pain... but even so, I notice there's a demented smile on his face. No matter what I do to him, or how hard I attack, he takes pleasure out of the pain. The prime example of masochistic evil, similar to suicide bombers and sexually based serial killers. They live for the opression to their ways... making them crave the fatal outcome even more. His kind of evil is something I've prepared for and studied for... but never entirely grasped. How a man could ever want pain, even desire it is beyond any logical comprehension I've ever known.

I don't care. If he wants pain... I'll be more than glad to deliver.

Running after him, it isn't long before the killer comes at me again... both predictably and surprisingly more aggressive than before. I duck his slash, grab his kick, and spin him around, locking my arm with his. A simple twist, and a sickening crack errupts near the location of the scapula. Meaning, quite literally, the bone that connects his neck and shoulder. Needless to say, his following scream of pain is not at all surprising. Let's see him take some demented form of pleasure out of that.

"It was never your place to decide who lives or dies!", I growl into his ear, pressing the wound as hard as I can. "Those 'marks' of your's had families. Some had hopes. Some had dreams. Taking that away from them doesn't make you a saint... it makes you scum."

With a nudge of my shoulder, I force him into the wall. Too dizzied to get the cuffs out of my belt... I'll have to keep him subdued until it passes. By any means nessecary.

"Now stop struggling."

As his shoulder cracks Zsasz laughs.

"Ooo. That tickles."

As the villain is thrown against the wall, Batman can see a violent gleam in his eye. Zsasz tilts his head back and suddenly hawks a loogie at the Dark Knight, giving him the momentary distraction he needed to squirm free and use his good arm to jab Batman hard in the side before nimbly diving back and picking up a shard of glass from the ground at his feet. As Batman again turns to face him, the other side of his face is cut by the flying piece of glass that Zsasz had just thrown.

 

[Spike_x1]

Hal nodded while Superman talked of alternate versions and parallel worlds, even though he could barely wrap his head around it. But he wasn't about to look like an idiot in front of Superman, that much he knew.

Hal was filled with a sense of dread when he heard the Kryptonian whisper Despero's name. Of course, it had to be. "You're after him, too? Despero is a fugitive from the Green Lantern Corps. He escaped our custody, killed good men in the process." Hal said bitterly, bringing his clenched fist up so the glowing ring could be seen. "We don't take too kindly to that."

Superman nodded in understanding, as the two began to rise higher into the sky. Everywhere around them was destruction. Hal didn't know if the entirety of this alternate Earth looked like this, but the Impurity had completely anihilated Coast City. The thought of all the lives lost angered Hal immensely.

"You say there're others out there? From our world? We should go find them. We're obviously going to need all the help we can get." Hal said, the two heroes heading off into the distance. Suddenly, a horrifying thought came to him. "Wait. If Mr. Tall, green and handsome over there was an alternate version of me, does that mean you have en evil twin running around here somewhere, too?" Hal asked, the thought of someone with Superman's powers using it for evil sending a chill running up his spine.

Clark honestly didn't want to think about the alternate version of himself that he knew was flying around this parallel world somewhere, and the horror that he had seen left in that maniac's wake. It hadn't occurred to him until just then that the villain had left survivors at the site of destruction he had seen in Mexico simply to put them through more pain and suffering. He's evil incarnate, thought Superman as Hal awaited a response.

"Yes. They call him Superiorman, and I'd like to have a few words with him," growled Clark.

 

[Batman]

As his shoulder cracks Zsasz laughs.

"Ooo. That tickles."

As the villain is thrown against the wall, Batman can see a violent gleam in his eye. Zsasz tilts his head back and suddenly hawks a loogie at the Dark Knight, giving him the momentary distraction he needed to squirm free and use his good arm to jab Batman hard in the side before nimbly diving back and picking up a shard of glass from the ground at his feet. As Batman again turns to face him, the other side of his face is cut by the flying piece of glass that Zsasz had just thrown.

Filthy animal...

I had barely wiped his saliva from my cowl's lenses by the time that I felt the stinging cut on my face draw blood. Every minute that I spend in the prescence of this psychotic degenerate is damning. He makes me want to scream in rage... lose my mind, right when things are just getting worse. But it's those thoughts that just remind me that this is his game: He's luring me in, trying to break me at every point.

It's not going to happen. Not when Gotham itself on the line. I have to preservere... not just for the sake of the city, but my own sanity. I have to tell myself that he's just another criminal. Another coward...

"What's the matter, hero? Feel like giving in?"

"Never."

I lash foward and knee him in the face, exploiting the bloodied nose as hard as I can. Even masochists' have a limit for how much their bodies can take before they pass out of exhaustion. Of course, as Alfred warned me, I posess that same limitation. But my own personal limits are something I've managed to redefine time and time again.

Hopefully I'll be as lucky again...

He swings at me, fast. I only catch it just before it lands. From all I can tell, he doesn't have a certain style or method of fighting pinned down... he's almost self taught, in that regard. Rapists and murderers often are. But I can use that to my advantage, if I keep my head levelled. As he tries to break free, I pull him forward, and jam my elbow into atom's apple. He coughs, naturally, giving me the edge to trip him to the ground.

A quickly executed double kick, and I've sent him rolling across the ground. For once in this ill-attempted brawl, I may actually have attained the upper hand...

"Give it up, damn you. The pleasure you've taken out of this ends here. No one else is dying tonight!"

 

[MinNoir]

She stood atop the rooftop waiting, slowly, analyzing, everything that went on, the steps to and from the cars that came and went, and then the truck came. Stephanie raised an eye brow, "hello..." moving quietly across the rooftops she took the fire escape down, not exactly feeling like Wonder Woman here... coming down, she ducked behind a wall, listening to the conversation carefully... hmmm drug cartels...? No... oh great, human smuggling sheesh, shouldn't the Bat be taking care of this kind of thing?

Sneaking around she watched a few moments, before finding a way out so she could report back to Dixon, she dashed out behind a few crates and exited stage right on an alley way. Making sure she wasn't followed she dashed out heading for the subways..

 

[SenseiofCheese]

Clark honestly didn't want to think about the alternate version of himself that he knew was flying around this parallel world somewhere, and the horror that he had seen left in that maniac's wake. It hadn't occurred to him until just then that the villain had left survivors at the site of destruction he had seen in Mexico simply to put them through more pain and suffering. He's evil incarnate, thought Superman as Hal awaited a response.

"Yes. They call him Superiorman, and I'd like to have a few words with him," growled Clark.

Hal could hardly keep his eyes trained on the sky in front of him. He had seen his share of things he never thought existed, but this was something else entirely. Not only was he in some kind of alternate dimension, strange enough by itself, but he was fighting alongside Superman. The Last Kryptonian.

"So, Superman..." Hal said, trying to keep the professionalism in his voice. "Where should we start looking for the guy?"

 

[trustyside-kick]

IC:

Despero's mouth had never smiled so wide. He had successfully thrown aside Earth's Mightiest heroes...and it took nothing but time: something had Despero had much of. With Phase I of the plan completed, he could now move on, to Phase II.

Relishing in the completion of Phase I, Despero starts to slowly levitate in the sky. He rises higher and higher, but keeping a steady, calm, and slow pace. He is in no hurry. When this mood of fulfillment dies away and he grows eager to speed things up, he will so easily teleport to the Alternate Earth for Phase II. Now, he'll just enjoy the quiet--

Huh?

Despero stops in mid-air. Something or...someone...is watching him; he can feel it. Has he miscalculated? Who would be foolish enough, to monitor him? Who, would want nothing more than to be crushed by his might...would dare try to annoy him so? Is there some sort of other hero is unaware of? Or...

Despero's head looks to the skies, but past that. Past the clouds, past the airplanes, and past even the atmosphere. He cannot see what he stares at...but he feels it. And he knows it is watching.

"Heh...heheh...hehehahahahahaha!"

His third eye glows, and in the blink of an instant, Despero teleports. When he reappears, he is in space, and to the left of him is a satellite. Slowly, arms crossed and his smile concealed with his mouth shut...Despero floats over to the piece of machinery. He speaks to it.

"Who dares stalk the Terror of the Cosmos? Speak, human. Or I shall hunt you down, and find you. Then, in your cowardly, weak, state...I will crush you."

 

[Batman]

Scrambling for my pistol, I don't even bother to take aim. I shoot a wild shot at my attacker, only to have it graze Two-Face's shoulder. Nonetheless, the shock makes him recoil as he takes a step backwards. Steadying my hand, I act more precisely this time. A well aimed shot to the head will end all of this. The second shot. Everything in two's. A poetic end for Harvey Dent.

I watch the bullet rifle through the air before it drastically changes course. I look to see that Atom has dropped her shoulder into it. The bullet curves and misses by a long shot.

"No, we do this the honorable - and the right - way," Atom reprimands as she flies past my ear.

I nod as I get control again. "Right. So how do we do that?"

Even though she's no bigger than a thimble, I can see the Atom frown. "I was hoping you had an idea..."

Thick drops of fresh blood littered the pristine carpet below. But even under the brief scream of agony, a wide smile came to Harvey Dent's face. In so many ways, this was the effect that Two-Face had wanted by the attack on Gotham City - to see it's citizens lose control, when faced with impossible odds, and thus proving how much Harvey Dent was still like the rest of them, even having been shunned by society's standards. Now, it seemed as though the Detective had already made the point for him. And even if he hadn't been able to succeed in killing Cobblepot, Two-Face felt it would almost be inhumane to not take the secondary victory... especially when there was so much more to be done.

Get your head in the game, Dent. If it weren't for you and your poetic tendencies, we'd be long gone!
For once, you might be right...
Of course I'm right. Did you see that shot? If it had hit us, neither half would've been able to escape it.
I get that. But it doesn't matter now. We're done here.
Not yet...

As the Gotham Detective and the pint-sized vigilante tried to settle on a common outcome, Two-Face wasted no time sliding himself across the floor to grab one of his tossed away magnums. Aiming the weapon at his opposition, with his good arm, the criminal instead fired at the overhead lights of the room, blasting them out in a shockwave of sparks and broken glass. Darkness blanketed the three individuals, as Two-Face scuttled out from behind the Mayor's desk.

In a vicious tackle, Detective Grayson found himself knocked into a nearby wall, as Two-Face himself landed near the windows in a heap of blood. He was losing too much, and despite his efforts, he'd surely soon be caught if he tried anything else that was just as drastic. Even as he weakly pulled himself up, Dent looked back at the Detective with a smirk... almost as if he were saying goodbye to the man.

I assume you're done now.
As long you've got an escape planned...
Did you really think I wouldn't?

And seconds later, the far left window exploded in a precise series of gunshots. Unusual winds filled the room, as did a bright light, as everyone began to hear the noises of loud machineary coming from outside. Two-Face looked from it, back to the heroes, as he made one final flip of his coin - the flip for their lives. Unfortunately, as Harvey's luck would have it, the silver object came up void of any scarring... clearly, it was heads. With a silent curse, Two-Face seemed to mute his actions as Harvey regained control.

"Consider it a bad toss. One that won't happen again!", He yelled over the noise, as more of the windows shattered behind him. "Let's do it again sometime, Detective. It's been lovely. But for now, I've got bigger things in store. And bigger Bats to fry!"

The origin of the loud noise revealed itself in a grand fashion, as it loomed outside the broken windows: A large, seized helicopter from the GCPD headquarters, spray painted and vandalized to an extreme degree. It's occupants were clearly visible, wearing SWAT uniforms and headsets... and the strangest off all, clown masks, indicating immediately how they had attained these items. With a wave to Two-Face, as the villain turned around and climbed onto the window sill, the helicopter's co-pilot stood and outstretched his hand.

And then he leaped.

Both Grayson and The Atom's jaws dropped as Two-Face seemed to miss grabbing onto his partner's hand... only to realize that Two-Face had actually been aiming to land on a rope ladder below. The villain climbed, eagerly, as the clown henchman grabbed him by the jacket and helped him into the cockpit. Before Grayson or Atom could move, the helicopter made a drastic zoom to the left, flying away from the office's windows and into Gotham City in little time at all. But they quickly realized the bigger picture: Harvey Dent, and subsequently Two-Face, had escaped.

Taking a headset from the clowns infront, Two-Face adjusted it onto his skull, so he could better hear what they were saying. One of the clowns leaned back to him, immediately noticing his shoulder wound and pointing to it.

"You want to get that fixed first?", He asked.

Harvey shook his head, pointing to the physically damaged side of his face. "Leave it to scar. I like to keep mementos of my greatest achievements. Why do you think I haven't gone to fix this?"

"Uh... sure. Whatever you say."

Dent sat back in the chair, contemplative, as the copter made a swift turn upon passing Wayne Enterprises. Immediately, his other eye shot open, as Two-Face gritted his teeth in pain, more than anger. Harvey's prescence seemed to leave him, as he leaned forward, watching as the copter made it's way above Robinson Park - the site of the month old attack that had ravaged the city. Reminded of such foul circumstance put the psychopath in a better mood.

"Ivy and Freeze... did they actually manage to pull their part off?"

"Not from what the news is sayin'.", The pilot answered. "Seems they were handed over to the cops only a couple minutes after hittin' the place. They also said The Batman was involved..."

Two-Face sneered, though he hadn't been surprised. It had been a mistake to match them up in the first place. But that's part of why he had done so... he knew their attack would prove to be an adequate distraction more than anything. And in that regarded, it had been a success.

"Tell me Crane and Black Mask did better, will you?"

"Haven't heard. But so far, nothin's come up. We were hopin' to hear back from them by now."

Two-Face smiled. Then everything is going well...

"Our boss phoned back to us before we got to you. His part of the plan went off without a hitch!"

With a look of disgust, Two-Face leaned back into the chair, after hearing such news. Though he had wanted the distraction within the GCPD, The Joker himself needed to be eliminated for his greater plans to take fruition. The fact that he was still alive, and the fact that he was the only one of the night to have successfully completed their take was almost an insult to the plan. It seemed the clown really couldn't be underestimated.

"You want to meet back with him?"

"No. God, no...", Harvey answered in blunt honesty. "Take us to Blackgate. I want to see how things are going before the night comes to an end. We can always regroup later."

"You're the boss.", The pilot answered.

Harvey smirked again, almost sardonically.

"Did you hear that? He called you the boss.", Dent unintentionally spoke aloud, as he stared out the window. Oh, if only they knew...

 

[Andy C.]

ex Luthor​

A few hours on the other side of the Phantom Door had been as productive as usual--even more so, this time. Several years ago, he had experimented with projections into different dimensions of reality, based on a slightly more advanced version of the old Wave Harmonic Theory. To his disappointment, all of the dimensional frequencies he had tried were total voids, devoid of both space and time. He tried a different frequency every time, but so far these 'Phantom Zones' were by all rights completely empty...

...except for the one he had seen today.

While meditating in the void, he saw something in the distance. He was still too far off to investigate, but he saw it as some sort of structure. It was a building, of alien design. Furthermore, it was of the alien's design--recognizing Kryptonian technology from Brainiac's bottle-cities. Here, he may find secrets that would be Superman's undoing.

Unfortunately, that would be something for another day. Now, he had another alien to deal with.

Exiting the bunker and back into the LexCorp facility, he heard L-Soft posting a priority notice for him at the nearest terminal.

"Attention, Mister Luthor. Despero has confronted one of our monitor satellites. Showing message....now."

"Who dares stalk the Terror of the Cosmos? Speak, human. Or I shall hunt you down, and find you. Then, in your cowardly, weak, state...I will crush you."

Lex smiled, then tapped a key on the terminal to open up the communications channel.

"Big talk from a small mind. I am Lex Luthor, and as far as you are concerned, this planet belongs to me. While I certainly do admire your ability to dispose of the other freaks that pollute this world, I believe you'll find me a bit more than a match for the likes of you."

Checking a secondary window on the monitor, he saw that the counter-measure was ready for use.

"Meet me on the roof of my building. I won't be hard to find."

Luthor walked to his private service elevator, where his newly-upgraded Warsuit was waiting for him.

 

[Eddie Brock]

I reluctantly holster my gun as Atom continues to stare in disbelief. Two-Face got away. That's the last thing on my mind, however. I almost killed the guy. I almost shot him right through the head. If it weren't for the Atom's interference, Two-Face's blood would be on my hands. How would Dick feel if he knew his father shot someone down in cold blood? How would I feel? Thank the Lord that Atom managed to talk me out of it. I'll never make that mistake again. Never.

"What now?" Atom asks anxiously, returning to her normal size. It's an unusual sight, to say the least.

I rub my chin while holding my mouth open. God, I need to shave. I know now's not the time to think about that, but I guess I really have let myself go recently. Ever since Mary went, I've done a poor job of taking care of myself. I make a silent promise to do better - if not for myself, then for Dick. He deserves better. He deserves a father right now. I haven't done a great job of that.

Sighing tiredly, I explain, "Now, we go back to Gordon and tell him what happened. He'll know what to do from there."

Atom nods.

"First, we have to find Cobblepot," I add mindfully. In the midst of all this excitement, I nearly forgot why I was here in the first place. "He may be scum, but it's our duty to protect him. We'll tell Gordon about the Penguin connection later - once this situation has been resolved."

I look out the shattered window, and I can't help but feel my heart sink.

"If this situation gets resolved..."

Atom puts a hand on my shoulder. I turn to look at her. She's forcing an optimistic smile. "We're going to make it through this," she assures me unsteadily. "Gotham's been through worse."

I sigh again.

"Not really."

 

[Catman_prb]

"Only half the time..." I said ducking beneath the gunfire, and kicking both guns out of his hands from underneath simultaneously with both legs.

He has to run out of guns sometime soon. Doesn't he?

He tumbled over a little, but not enough to fall down, which is too bad. I could of used the advantage. But no matter. I'll beat him. He won't win tonight...he won't win ever.

With my staff in hand, I had landed one swift jab into his chest with the blunt end, before swinging it like a bat (a baseball bat, not the Batman-type bat) to the side of his temple.

"You were saying?"

He ducked under the staff, reaching up and grabbing it and wrenching it out of her hand. He brought the staff into her ankles, knocking her over. He kicked her hard in the stomach, causing her to buckle over on the ground. He brought his shoe into her face, causing her to cry out. He held the staff over his head.

"I could do so many evil things to you," he muttered quietly to himself "It's a shame I'm short on time,"

He brought the staff down hard, breaking at least two ribs. He kicked her in the stomach again, before bringing a knife out of his pocket, and bringing it down savagely into her leg. He stepped on the handle, forcing it in further. He brought his foot down hard on her face again, digging in with the heel.

"Come on then, you stupid ****ing *****. Get up and fight the Black Mask," he snarled. She didn't move, curled up in a ball, hands over her stomach. He smiled, a sick twisted thing, and kicked her onto her back. He got on the floor, straddling her and held the staff to her throat, strangling her.

"This is what you get. This is what you get when you play with the big boys girly. You get your sweet ass handed back to you,"

 

[MinNoir]

"You will write?" She asked him, as she stood there with her arms around him, not wanting to let him go. He gave her a kiss. Her life in the short day had changed with a unit down in Iraq he was needed faster than she'd like.

He quietly broke their embrace, "I will write, call, text, whatever it takes Donna, you're my wife., I love you."

That was the last words he said before he left, for a distant land. Looking around her empty apartment, she decided to clean for a bit, that didn't settle her it made restless. Her phone rang, it was her new agent informing her of the meeting she had with Cover Girl. She knew when it was... however she was going to be late.

Spinning into Wonder Woman, she left her apartment heading for the skies. Tears fell down her cheeks, the ol' Glory that she wore seem to bleed with her heart, as she pushed through the clouds, unaware of her limitations. Anger burned within her that her man was taken from her, it got.. cold, quick. She had ice on her body, but she kept going and the glory of Zeus could be seen as she went up and up, before her body gave way and began a fall decent down back to earth...

​

 

[Spike_x1]

Hal could hardly keep his eyes trained on the sky in front of him. He had seen his share of things he never thought existed, but this was something else entirely. Not only was he in some kind of alternate dimension, strange enough by itself, but he was fighting alongside Superman. The Last Kryptonian.

"So, Superman..." Hal said, trying to keep the professionalism in his voice. "Where should we start looking for the guy?"

"As much as it pains me to say it," sighed Clark, "Superiorman isn't our top priority right now. We need to help the people in need on this Earth, find the other heroes who have been taken here, and then we'll figure things out from there and hopefully find a way back home at some point. If any of these villains - Despero or otherwise - get in our way, that will be when they become a top priority."

Casually cruising eastward through the air, Superman turned to the Green Lantern. "I don't suppose that ring of yours has any way of making a distinction between people of this world and ours, and maybe scanning for other people originating from our dimension?"

 

[SenseiofCheese]

"As much as it pains me to say it," sighed Clark, "Superiorman isn't our top priority right now. We need to help the people in need on this Earth, find the other heroes who have been taken here, and then we'll figure things out from there and hopefully find a way back home at some point. If any of these villains - Despero or otherwise - get in our way, that will be when they become a top priority."

Casually cruising eastward through the air, Superman turned to the Green Lantern. "I don't suppose that ring of yours has any way of making a distinction between people of this world and ours, and maybe scanning for other people originating from our dimension?"

Green Lantern stops dead in the air. Superman notices and comes to a halt as well, looking Hal in the eyes.
To be honest, Hal wasn't completely sure if he could do what Superman was talking about, but he wasn't going to tell him that.

"Sure, I could try." he said, raising his fist and looking at his ring. "Ring, scan the country for all.....dimensional...anomalies...? Anything that doesn't belong here."

The ring immediately began buzzing to life. A green, busy glow enveloped the ring, as the voice began notifying Hal of quite a few signatures that matched Superman's and his own.

Finally, after a moment of silence among the clouds, Hal looked up at Superman. "Hot damn. That actually worked. In any case, the ring picked up several signatures; people from Earth. Our Earth. The closest one is...let me see...New York City." Hal relayed his ring's results to Superman, who crossed his arms and nodded.

The two wasted no time with words, and immediately resumed their path through the skies. "Hate to be the bearer of bad news...not that there's much good news to be found in the situation...but if I can do what I just did; find people from our dimension, then odds are our friend the Impurity back there can too."

 

[Eddie Brock]

DETECTIVE JOHN GRAYSON

I cradle my cell phone between my ear and my shoulder as I creep cautiously around City Hall. My gun trained in front of me, I kick open and doors and clear the rooms behind them. Cobblepot couldn't have gotten far. And with Atom searching the other wing, it's only a matter of time until we find him. I only hope he wasn't stupid enough to run out into the streets. With the number of people Two-Face has working under him, Gotham is a dangerous place.

Well...more dangerous, anyway.

The phone clicks, and I perk up. "Grayson?"

"Hello, Captain," I greet as calmly as I can. I shift my head slightly so I feel a little more comfortable. "I have good news. I got to Two-Face before he could do any serious harm to Mayor Cobblepot. I can't take all the credit, though. Atom was here to lend a helping hand."

"Where's the Mayor now?" Gordon asks somewhat impatiently. He's probably busy - and with good reason.

I laugh nervously. "I'm still working on that, Captain," I explain sheepishly. I wince as the words escape my lips. I know that this sounds bad.

Gordon sounds momentarily stunned. "You mean to tell me--"

"Listen, Jim, we have a problem," I interrupt. How should I say this? "Mayor Cobblepot...he's...well...I have reason to believe that he may be the Penguin."

Silence.

"Don't say any more. This line isn't secure. Find Cobblepot, bring him to the relative safety of the station, and we'll talk later," Gordon spits out rapidly.

CLICK!

I lower my gun so I can hang up the phone. With the phone still in hand, I kick open the next door. The room is completely dark. I scramble for a few moments, searching for a light switch. I finally find one and illuminate the room.

What do I see? Mayor Cobblepot crouched in the back, tightly grasping an umbrella. His knuckles are literally white from gripping so hard. He's holding onto that thing for dear life. Must help calm him.

"Mayor Cobblepot, it's me. John Grayson? From the GCPD?"

I hold out my badge so he knows he can trust me. If only I knew I could trust him...

"Look, we need to get you out of here. There's no telling if Two-Face won't come back for more..."

I hold out my hand.

"Please."
​

 

[Johnny Blaze]

The people in the streets screamed in terror as the white form rocketed out of the sky and came crashing into a building. The structure came crashing down on top of it, but the beast soon burst free from the pile of debris covering it.

[BLACKOUT]"Is that all you've got"[/BLACKOUT], sneered the Manslayer.

"Hardly", stated J'onn as he charged his counterpart, his arm becoming long and snake-like, and wrapping itself around the Manslayer.

With a quick spin, J'onn launched his foe into a city bus parked a dozen blocks away.

The Martian Manslayer recovered quickly though, and grabbed both halfs of the now destroyed bus and came at J'onn. The Manhunter tried to go intangible, but could not do it in time to avoid being sandwiched between the two bus halves.

A loud smashing sound echoed across the area from the attack, and J'onn fell to the Earth dazed and hurt.

[BLACKOUT]"You green-skinned vermin were always weak"[/BLACKOUT], chuckled the Manslayer as he came at the injured J'onn.
[BLACKOUT]"To think that you're my counterpart of another world"[/BLACKOUT], uttered the Manslayer with disgust as his clawed hands rended the flesh from J'onn's back.

J'onn screamed in pain as the claws sunk deep into his flesh, and the warm feel of blood began to ooze down his back.

The Manhunter quickly spun around, back-handing the Manslayer and sending the White Martian skipping across the ground.
Reaching behind himself, J'onn clutched at his wound as he willed his body to morph and seal it.

It was painful and took a few seconds, but the wound was soon healed. And just in time too as the Manslayer charged J'onn again, grasping him by the head and digging his clawed fingers into his skull.
The Manslayer slammed J'onn into the concrete, causing a shockwave that cracked and tore the asphault all around them.

 

[MinNoir]

Black. Was all that she saw falling backwards from the sky hurling down toward New York City. Waking up prior to falling onto a sky scraper, she manuvered quickly, Hera help me,... what's going on with me. I'm not the same Amazonian I was before... flying off veering in between Trump Towers, and other Manhattan liners. Donna looked around as she sighed heavily. What was sister doing as a... as an Ambassador? That's it Themyscira Embassy! There has to be one, I over heard Mother talking about it.

In all her red, white and blue Wonder Woman dashed off like Hermes with strength like Hercules she found her way to the Themyscria Embassy in... New York, New York. Coming down to the front doors, she looked around as passerby's stared at her. Note to self, talk to agent about other looks... must update this costume. Walking into the Embassy she looked around it... it was nearly empty! "Hello?" She called out as her cape swept around her, walking deeper into the Embassy she noticed Amazonian artifacts, "Diana..."where are you?"

Someone had been watching Donna as she went through Diana's desk. "Who are you!" Shouted a nervous man, holding a sword toward Donna.

Backing up a moment, Donna studied him before approaching him, "I'm Donna Tro-... Donna Long, sister to Princess Diana and who are you?"

"Her assistant, Mac, she hasn't been around her in a couple of days... are you... are you a Wonder Woman too?"

"I-" Donna paused a moment before answering, "I am Wonder Woman." Her voice curled around the phrase, "and I was sent here by our Mother to bring Diana home, now tell me where she is."​

 

[MinNoir]

Pouring rain tumbled without care, her hood soaked by the time she walked in the door of her home. Lyle and Donnie were asleep, feet on the carpet made no sound the water on her shoes muffled any sound. She quietly walked by them giving a kiss to her daughter on the cheek before heading off to her room. As she entered her bedroom she threw down her cloak on the bed, and began to undress.

"Miss Brown, you disappoint me, I was expecting more than a mere survalliance."

"The hell!" Steph exclaimed in reply, "what are you doing here Dixon?"

He waited a few moments, "the cartel will be moving their shipments at the same spot, however there will be guards I want them stopped, Miss Brown, not observed." He walked toward her, placing his hand on her cheek, "do we have an understanding?"

"Sure." She paused briefly, "and how do you suppose I do that, I'm just one woman." Her voice chilled with anger, she wanted him out of her house, and she wanted him out now.

"Hanae can assist you, I'm sure you... road tramps can think of something, can't you. You are, the best, are you not?"

"Best at racing, sure, best at working for a piece of-" He launched at her she ducked, using her elbow to flip him over. "Careful Mr. Dixon, we have a long night and I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

"Who are we?" He asked as he stood up, before realizing that Donnie was standing behind Stephanie, who informed her that Hanae was on her way.
​

 

[trustyside-kick]

Lex smiled, then tapped a key on the terminal to open up the communications channel.

"Big talk from a small mind. I am Lex Luthor, and as far as you are concerned, this planet belongs to me. While I certainly do admire your ability to dispose of the other freaks that pollute this world, I believe you'll find me a bit more than a match for the likes of you."

Checking a secondary window on the monitor, he saw that the counter-measure was ready for use.

"Meet me on the roof of my building. I won't be hard to find."

Luthor walked to his private service elevator, where his newly-upgraded Warsuit was waiting for him.

IC:

Despero chuckled as the human made his demands. Everything was going to plan with the execution of Phase I...he finds no qualms by making this short trip. Part of Phase II requires himself to officially make contact with the people of Earth. If this human was able to spy on him so well to where Despero had not become aware of his actions until now...then he can make use of this meeting.

While it had been some time since the human has spoken any further, Despero speaks back to the satellite, realizing he had most likely left his satellite station.

"I shall be there...momentarily."

Despero flies down, re-entering the skies and clouds of Earth from space, and immediately his telepathic powers kick in, attempting to locate the human. After a moment, the villain smiles, and stops in mid-air. Looking to the east of his location, with the blink of his third eye, he teleports.

 

[Spike_x1]

Green Lantern stops dead in the air. Superman notices and comes to a halt as well, looking Hal in the eyes.
To be honest, Hal wasn't completely sure if he could do what Superman was talking about, but he wasn't going to tell him that.

"Sure, I could try." he said, raising his fist and looking at his ring. "Ring, scan the country for all.....dimensional...anomalies...? Anything that doesn't belong here."

The ring immediately began buzzing to life. A green, busy glow enveloped the ring, as the voice began notifying Hal of quite a few signatures that matched Superman's and his own.

Finally, after a moment of silence among the clouds, Hal looked up at Superman. "Hot damn. That actually worked. In any case, the ring picked up several signatures; people from Earth. Our Earth. The closest one is...let me see...New York City." Hal relayed his ring's results to Superman, who crossed his arms and nodded.

The two wasted no time with words, and immediately resumed their path through the skies. "Hate to be the bearer of bad news...not that there's much good news to be found in the situation...but if I can do what I just did; find people from our dimension, then odds are our friend the Impurity back there can too."

This just wasn't their day.

"I guess we'll just have to find them all before he, and whatever allies he may have, can get to them first." Smiling reassuringly to Green Lantern before turning to focus on the journey in front of them, Clark tried desperately not to think of what horrors he and Hal were likely going to find within New York City. He could only hope that whichever hero was in the city was doing their best to preserve some form of order and decency for the innocent people there.

 

[Green Lantern]

Filthy animal...

I had barely wiped his saliva from my cowl's lenses by the time that I felt the stinging cut on my face draw blood. Every minute that I spend in the prescence of this psychotic degenerate is damning. He makes me want to scream in rage... lose my mind, right when things are just getting worse. But it's those thoughts that just remind me that this is his game: He's luring me in, trying to break me at every point.

It's not going to happen. Not when Gotham itself on the line. I have to preservere... not just for the sake of the city, but my own sanity. I have to tell myself that he's just another criminal. Another coward...

"What's the matter, hero? Feel like giving in?"

"Never."

I lash foward and knee him in the face, exploiting the bloodied nose as hard as I can. Even masochists' have a limit for how much their bodies can take before they pass out of exhaustion. Of course, as Alfred warned me, I posess that same limitation. But my own personal limits are something I've managed to redefine time and time again.

Hopefully I'll be as lucky again...

He swings at me, fast. I only catch it just before it lands. From all I can tell, he doesn't have a certain style or method of fighting pinned down... he's almost self taught, in that regard. Rapists and murderers often are. But I can use that to my advantage, if I keep my head levelled. As he tries to break free, I pull him forward, and jam my elbow into atom's apple. He coughs, naturally, giving me the edge to trip him to the ground.

A quickly executed double kick, and I've sent him rolling across the ground. For once in this ill-attempted brawl, I may actually have attained the upper hand...

"Give it up, damn you. The pleasure you've taken out of this ends here. No one else is dying tonight!"

Blood was dripping from several of Zsasz's freshest scars, newly torn open from the fight. He looked up into the blank lens covered eyes of his enemy and smiled.

"I must say, it's not often my prey fights back. And NEVER this hard. Well done Blacky, well done. You make this all SO much more fun."

Zsasz looked at his own hand quickly. Encrusted under his overgrown nails was dried blood and mud and he smiled back at his enemy once more.

"No, Batty, I don't think my fun tonight IS done quite yet. Nor do I think my deathtoll for the night is over."

Viciously, Victor slashed at his enemy's lone exposed flesh again. His nails dug deep into the flesh of Bruce's cheek, tearing four large gashes across it. Zsasz leaped backward and rubbed his blood stained hand across his pants.

 

[Eddie Brock]

As we're driving back to station, I can't help but think of our recent...developments. I mean, I may very well have a notorious gun trafficker in my backseat. And it's my job to protect him! God, sometimes I really can't believe this city sometimes. We're literally so corrupt that 'the Penguin' is our Mayor. It makes you question who you can trust. I mean, I never trusted politicians to begin with...

Something catches my eye as we're waiting at a red light. A small convoy of black cars heads to my left. They look like Zucco's cars. I should know because I'm running reconnaissance on Fat Tony and his men. And since I'm heading towards the station, that means that the docks are to my left. Maybe I'm just being crazy, but...

"Atom...Rihanna...can you get Cobblepot back to the station?" I ask suddenly as the cars disappear from sight. I can't afford to waste time.

Rihanna looks at me curiously. "Yeah. Where are you going?" she asks back.

"Following a hunch," I explain hurriedly, "Tell Gordon I'll be back soon." And without further explanation or argument, I hop out of my squad car and dash off after Zucco's convoy. I check over my shoulder to see that Rihanna shuffled into the driver's seat as she starts to pull away.

 

[Catman_prb]

Tommy crept up the stairs, snub nosed revolver clutched with a death grip in his sweating hands. The noises, shouting and gun fire had stopped now. And the laughter. It had carried all the way down to the lab. As had some of the tear gas. Luckily he had an abundance of surgical masks to wear. So slowly, ever so slowly, he made his way up the stairs. He could have used the lift, but it probably wasn't a good idea to use that during an emergency. He reached the door at the top of the stairs, that let on to the main corridor of Gotham Police Department.

He listened carefully. There was heavy breathing from the opposite side of the door. He pushed his glasses back up onto his nose. He wasn't a soldier. He was a doctor. He was quite good at firing a gun, but it wasn't for him. He prefered saving lives than ending them. Still, if needs must. Carefully, he began inching the door open, holding the gun out in front of him. Giving a silent prayer, he wheeled around, facing the armed man in front of him.

"Jesus Christ, Elliot, put the gun down. You'll take someone's eye out," Marcus Driver said, putting his gun away. Tommy breathed a sigh of relief.

"What the hell's happening Marcus? Where's the Joker?" he asked, leaning against the wall.

"It's all over now. The freak just walked out," Driver said, rubbing his temples "Wait...how did you know it was the Joker?"

"I could hear him laughing from the lab," Tommy said.

"So where were you?" Driver asked, scrutinising Tommy.

"Keeping out of the way of the guys who have a chance of hitting the bastard," Elliot said meeting Driver's gaze.

"Fair enough," Driver said "We're just waiting for the ambulance to head over and pick up the wounded,"

"I can have a look at the worst down in the Lab," Tommy offered. Marcus looked at him for a second.

"Look Elliot, no offence, but you're a pathologist. I don't want my guys to think we're doing a post mortem," he said.

"Yeah well, I'm a doctor first. And if they die before the ambulance gets here, it's on your head,"

"Good point. Come with me and have a look at the worst," Driver said, leading Tommy behind him as he walked through the blood spattered corridor.

 

[Saved]

Gordon sits in a squad car parked on the side of the street. Silently, he sits. Waiting. Brewing. With crime everywhere and one of his best out on a dangerous investigation, things seem dangerous.

As Gordon continues to watch the dark streets of Gotham, a phone suddenly rings. The sound of it's alarm startles him, causing his heart to skip a beat. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the phone, rumbling between his fingers.

"Hello," he says as he answers the call, still a little shaken.

"Gordon?" The voice says. "This is Berg down at Fourth and Downer, sir." He starts, taking in a deep breath.

"Well? Anything?"

"No, cap. No real traces, we're still cleanin' up the body."

"This isn't good news, Berg. Why'd you call me?"

"Well...there's a bit of a problem."

"Problem?" Gordon asks, his voice tired and irritated.

"Loeb's gone, Gordon." The officer says bluntly. "We can't find her anywhere."

"Did you check?" Gordon asks in disbelief. "She could be in a room somewhere."

"No, Gordon, she's gone. No one can find any trace of her." Gordon stays silent for a moment, trying to wrap his head around the situation. His untouchables aren't around, all of them are stuck on a task or just plain MIA. Most of the other cops are at MCU or elsewhere, wrapping up their cases or trying to close old ones. As for him, the Batman, well Gordon doesn't know where he is. And sometimes, it's just better to do things without relying on him. "Sir?" The officer says, breaking the silence.

"Get a team down there. I want every inch of that block comed for clues."

"Sir, we've done it already."

"Do it again, Berg! Put out a bulletin to all units. Loeb is missing. Any units available must be on the look out."

"Yes, Gordon." The officer says compliantly. "What about you?"

"I'm going to find Loeb."

"How?"

"Don't ask me how I'm going to do my job, Berg." Gordon snaps. "I don't ask you how you do yours." Gordon hangs up the phone and slips it back in his pocket. He leans his head on the steering wheel of the car, letting out a heavy sigh as he closes his eyes.

"Things are going to hell." He says in a frustrated tone. Gordon takes in deep breaths, trying to keep himself calm and alert. A cop isn't worth his salt if he's irratic and in a frenzy. Gordon knows this, all too well.

It seems all the problems in his life are coming to a climax. As if someone were trying to break him. As more problems arise, the current ones only get more difficult. Gordon slowly breathes, opening his eyes and leaning back in his seat.

"Where to find Loeb?" He asks himself, his attitude determined. "The crazies are out there. People with vendettas. Loeb is a target by nearly all of Gotham's underworld. If I want to find Loeb," Gordon turns the key in the ignition, starting the car.

"I need to find the criminals. And where do you find a criminal?" Gordon pulls off the curb and into the street, driving down the road as he embarks on his search. "At a crime." Gordon turns on the police scanner in his car, slowly raising the volume by turning the dial. He listens closely to the white noise, the sounds of various police officers, reporting back to Gotham police headquarters.

"HQ," a voice says, coming in clearly. "We got a shooting at west avenue. Two twenty six East Sale street." Gordon smiles as he turns onto another road, a destination finally set.

"It's a start."

 

[Batman]

"No, Batty, I don't think my fun tonight IS done quite yet. Nor do I think my deathtoll for the night is over."

Viciously, Victor slashed at his enemy's lone exposed flesh again. His nails dug deep into the flesh of Bruce's cheek, tearing four large gashes across it. Zsasz leaped backward and rubbed his blood stained hand across his pants.

The pain and the subsequent rush of blood sends a shockwave throughout my body. For a moment, I feel as if I can't even move. I've been fighting for so long, too long, that I've pushed the fact of my own mortality to the back of my mind. And now it's catching up with me. Can't give in... won't... but don't know if I'll have the choice for very long. Too much blood's already lost. Vision's blurring. Hearings fading. Bloodflow's rapid. Heart's beating against my chest, starkly into my brain. Too much. Too much, too soon...

Even as my suffering is silent, my opponent laughs. This murderer, this monster, takes every pause I make in stride. He's been counting on me to faulter. And for the first time in this ill-attempted dance, he's getting his wish. I'm losing control. Succumbing to the pain; to the hindrance. Everything I spent half a lifetime training against, coming back to haunt me in the most inopprotuned of times. And giving in... giving in would mean handing Gotham over on a slab...

No. No, this isn't over. I'm not finished yet. Harvey Dent... Two-Face... he's still out there. Still waiting for this. A loose cannon ready to collect the pieces of a shattered city he's been hammering at the entire night. Using Freeze and Ivy, and manipulating every psychotic mind he could. With that much power, that much influence, he could overthrow us. I can't let him win this night. Even if it means my end. Have to take him in, no matter the cost.

But first, the obstacle of stopping this madman readily awaits. He's played games with me for far too long. It's time I stopped... playing games with him...

"N-No,", I growl back, partly to assure myself. "Your deathtoll ends... permanently."

He opens his mouth to respond. Three batarang razors persuade him otherwise, digging into the skin as I toss them into his forearm. He doesn't scream, so much as flinch. He just smiles, savoring his own physical pain for all it's worth. It's sickening to watch... even moreso to imagine. But all of the scars embedded into his skin tell a tale of lifelong suffering, and in his case, neverending pleasure from the death of innocent people. The image in my mind will haunt me for years to come. But it's the same image that fuels me to strike again.

Pushing my body beyond any limitation, I leap forward, and viciously tackle him across the ground. Debris from the breakout aligns us, as we roll across the ground, taking in a punch for every moment we can. He kicks me back, sending me into the next hallway. My teeth grind together in anguish and frustration. Not because of the pain, or the numbing fatigue... but because the image of those screaming innocents still resonates within my mind. My fists tighten, as I begin to look at him as less of a monster. And suddenly, I can't find the logic in holding back any longer.

God help me, I have a plan. But at the price of my own soul...

"You enjoy the pain.", I finally remark, as we both come to a stand. "No. Enjoying it is too simple... it's your obsession. The coldness you feel as your victims pass. The premptive carve you make into your skin. That high. It's all familiar to you, isn't it?"

I can practically feel his lust for the situation, as he slides his tongue along his bloodied lips. Even the contemplation of it is setting in as some sort of vile pleasure, in his obviously disturbed mind. But that's the point. That's what I'm using to my advantage...

"So you do know what I'm talking about...", I continue. "The bloodshed that comes with the kill. The way they struggle. The way they squirm, denying your every advance, but failing to overcome you. You live that feeling. You breathe it. You inhabit it, because the thrill of murder is your very existence."

"Yes. Yes... but it's the blood. All the blood. The glorious blood!", He exclaims in excitement, looking to me like a piece of meat being dangled infront of a wild animal. "The blood really is the best part."

"I'm sure it is,", I falsely acknowledge. "And all the lives you're... saving. That's part of the high, isn't it?"

"Oh, the most important part...", He nods, in an almost childlike trance of pride. "They have to be saved, the zombies. They all have to be saved. This world is far too cruel to live in."

It takes every fiber of my being to keep from lashing out and beating him to a withering pulp in this very instant. His madness, and that pleasure for murder I mentioned, exerts from the tone in his voice. But he's not as distracted as I need him to be. Not yet, though it is coming. I can see it in his eyes. Just a little further...

"Of course they do. But you haven't kept a proper track. And without that, the kill means nothing..."

He looks at me, perplexed by this.

"Your tallies. The marks in your skin. I'm sure you've killed far more people than that, tonight.

The indifference on his face sets in. He's no longer focused on killing me. He values the possibility of having missed one of his sociapathic carvings too much to even care I exist, right now. It confirms every suspicion, every theory I've made on his warped train of thought. And predictably, he reaches for his blade, aiming it not at me, but his own skin.

"Y-Yes...", The madman slithers. "Y-You could be right. And I cannot lose track. I can't. The zombies, they have to be accounted for. The penance has to be recorded..."

The blade begins to slice a neat line into his skin. Every muscle in my body tenses, as I get ready for the attack. I can't believe I'm resorting to such inhumane tactics. And in such a sickening ruse. I'll never be able to forgive myself. But if this is truly the weakness of his that I guessed; his devotion to pain and suffering... then I had no choice. To fight the killer, I had to think like the killer...

A moment of silence passes. And I'm on him in a second.

The knife still in his wound, I grab it's handle, and twist. The thin line becomes a wide gash, as he looks on in surprise, not knowing whether to savor or scream. Before he can make up his mind, I take two fingers and jam them in the wound. And his choice is made. With a loud scream of agony, I watch him writhe back, only making it worse for him. I rip the knife out, and toss it into the darkness. No more death. No more games. No more mercy... he's going down hard.

Grabbing him by the shoulders, I pull, and spin, throwing him into one of the solid walls. Blackgate's corridors were built to house even the most violent of criminals. Even with it's failure to do so tonight, the architectual structure has evidenced itself to be sufficient enough as my weapon against it's prisoners. But how they could ever house a monster like him, when he clearly belongs at Arkham, is beyond comprehension. There's more to that than what meets the eye. Corruption at work, no doubt...

My frustrations transcribe into a fist, as I send a hard right hook across his jaw. Then a left. Then another right. The blades of my gauntlets slash across his already broken nose, as I pin him to the wall, and violently bash into his abdominals. Compared to the hits I've been giving him, these are ones he can actually feel. And despite all evidence to the contrary... I don't believe he's enjoying these.

"Feel those?!", I growl. "That's your skeletal structure beginning to cave in. More pressure, and your chest will slide into your organs. You'll bleed to death-"

I narrow my eyes, angrily peering back into his. "-But you care less about that than your victims."

Grabbing his torso in a bearhug, I twist, and throw him back, sending him rolling onto the floor. Every face he makes, every smile he attempts... it disgusts me. Even on the brink of paralysis, with as hard as I've been hitting him, and his masochistic ways never cease. With a run, I leap and stomp on his back as he lands. Another scream rolls out on his tongue, almost subsequently begging me to stop. At this point... I'm considering not. I want to kill him. I want to show Gotham that I have no tolerence for the deranged minds like him.

But my god, is it worth it? Is it worth breaking my one code; my one promise to my parents, just to set an example? I have to think. I have to keep a level head... remain better than any of the filth that ravages my city. But it could be so easy. So very easy. I've done it before... I...

No. I can't. And I haven't, for that matter. The man that took lives in vengeful anger isn't the man that I swore to become. Even if it means more lives lost at the hands of men like this... I have a responsibility to Gotham, and my parents' memory, not to become the very thing I've set out to abolish. And I meant what I said... no more death.

I remove my boot from his spine, taking a step back. He breathes heavily, but he's still breathing. And that's what counts. That's what matters. I'm not him. I'm not a murderer...

"Who brought you here?", I finally ask, in a more calmed tone. "What kind of deal did you make to escape Arkham? And with who? ANSWER ME!"

 

[Saved]

The night grows darker, and the street lights dim and flicker. Gordon turns his car onto East Sale Street, his eyes surveying the street and buildings. As he slowly drives down on the rocky pavement, he sees a man stumbling about on the sidewalk. He seems like a shadow, hanging in the darkness of the alley. As Gordon looks more closely, he sees four legs. "Oh, no," Gordon says in a remorseful voice.

As he slows the car to a stop, he sees the man more clearly. He stumbles into the light, moving under a street lamp's dull glow. Gordon sees him, his face horrifying. He grins evily, sweat dripping down his face. His eyes are squinted, angry and vengeful. He cackles loudly, his insanity apparent.

In his grasp, the man holds a young woman hostage. His arm is wrapped around her neck, hugging it tightly. As she gasps for air, trying to somehow escape, he growls and snarls like a wild beast. With his other hand, he holds a gun. He points it to her head, and laughs.

Gordon watches from the car as he unbuckles his seatbelt. He reahces for the radio, and slowly brings it to his mouth, so as not to cause attention. "Dispatch," he starts, talking slowly. "We have a hostage situation at East Sale." He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. "I can handle it, but I'm going to need a medic here asap." Gordon puts the radio down, and reaches for his gun.

He removes the strap from it, and holds is in his hand. He pulls the sleeve of his shirt over the gun, concealing it from sight. He takes in a deep breath as he exits the car, preparing to confront the crazed man.

"Put the gun down," he says calmly, approaching the man.

"Shut up!" He yells, flailing the woman about. "SHUT UP!"

"Look, you don't want to do this. Just...put the woman down and we'll talk about this." Gordon raises his other hand, holding it up to try and calm the man. The man just stares, holding the gun and jamming it into the woman's head.

"Put her down?" He questions. "No, I'll blow her away!"

"Why?" Gordon asks, trying to reason with the man. "What did she do?"

"Who, her?" He asks, smiling widely. "Oh, she didn't do a thing. I just had a bad day today, you know? Got fired. Wife left me. My car even got smashed in a parking lot." He continues to smile, waving the gun around the woman's head. "No, I've had a hell of a day, and all I want to do now is spread my pain."

"That's not going to help you." Gordon says, slowly stepping forward. "I can help you. I can get you help."

"At Arkham?" He grins. "Yeah, I'd rather die than spend a day with those psychopaths."

"Isn't that what you're becoming?" Gordon says, slowly raising his other hand, keeping the gun concealed inside the sleeve. "Isn't killing randomly madness? Insanity?"

"No!" He growls. "It's fun! I kill her, I spread my pain, so everyone knows what it's like!"

"We all have bad days!" Gordon says, his options waning thin. In a hostage situation, the protocol is mainly keep the attacker calm and the witness safe. Try to reason with the attacker and get him to release his victim, so as to keep the casualties to a minimum. But sometimes, force must be used. Especially in a case like this. "I'm having one right now."

"Really?" The man asks in a sarcastic voice. "So what's up with you?" Gordon quickly thinks, trying to come up with a story good enough to suit this man's maniacal mind, combining it with the truth of his life.

"Well, my squad car was shot up today." Gordon says, smiling faintly in nervousness. "Gangbangers shot it up real good. In fact, they almost killed me." Gordon stares into the eyes of the woman, seeing her fear and panic. Somehow, he comforts her, telling her it will be okay with his eyes and expressions. "Then, when I got back to the station, I find out that people are dying out here. Rapidly. If people die, I don't do my job. And if I don't do my job, I lose it. And without a job, my bad day gets worse."

The man looks away from Gordon, staring off into space, thinking. He mouths with his lips, his thoughts starting to come through in his lips. Gordon uses the moment to move closer, keeping both hands up so as not to alarm the man. "STAY BACK!" He yells, pointing the gun to the woman.

"It's okay, buddy. Relax. I'm not here to hurt or kill anyone. Not unless I have to."

"Oh, but there will be death." He smiles, pointing the gun at the woman once more. "These streets will be filled with it. And when that happens, people will know what this is like. They'll know what it's like to loose everything!"

"You haven't lost everything," Gordon shouts. "You still have your life. If you continue this, you won't. You have one thing left to lose. Something precious, and unique. Don't waste it on this."

"Waste it?" He sneers. "I'm having fun! If I die, now? Well, it'd be a step up from this morning."

Gordon frowns, knowing what he must do. He can only play the negotiator for so long. Some men don't change their minds. Some men can't be negotiated with. In Gotham, this is a timeless truth all too true. Gordon sighs as he aims the gun, keeping it hidden still.

"Last, chance." Gordon says in a low voice. "Let her go. Just let her go."

"I'll let her go after she's dead!" He yells, driving the gun into the woman's head.

"Fine then." Gordon pulls the trigger, hoping his aim was as good as he thought. Suddenly, the man drops the gun, falling to his knees yelling and screaming in pain. He holds his wrist tightly, rocking back and forth on the ground. The woman runs toward Gordon, crying in fear. She grabs Gordon tightly, and he holds her in his arm, just as he would his daughter. "It'll be okay," he says comforting her. "It'll be okay, now."

Just then, an ambulance drives up, followed by a squad car. The policemen rush out, and head for the shooter. One of the men grabs the gun, the other, the attacker. The paramedics rush out with a stretcher, immediately tending to the man's wound.

One of the officers approaches Gordon, tipping his hat to his superior. "Sir," he says respectfully.

"Take this woman down to central," Gordon says, patting the woman's back. "She needs a nice cup of coffee." He smiles to her.

"Yes, sir." The officers says, taking the woman gently by her shoulder. Gordon turns to leave, putting his gun back in his holster when the policeman calls out to him. "Gordon," he says. "We have a lead on Loeb."

"And, what is it?"

"She was at Gotham Central holding cells." He starts. "We believe she was abducted from there."

"Did you check the building?"

"All of it, sir. She's not there." Gordon sighs, whiping face of sweat.

"Okay, officer, good work. Wrap up here. I've got to find Loeb. God only knows what maniac has her."

Gordon runs back to his car, opening the door and sitting back in the seat. He immediately turns on the car, and pulls out, heading down the street, and back into his patrol of Gotham's underbelly.