The "Ultimate DC Universe" RPG, Season 3.0

[Saved]

Metropolis, Maximum Security Prison

I sit on a chair inside the medical room. My arm is wrapped heavily in gauze, the tight white strips coiled around my arm like a snake. I look down to it and see a dark red color begining to bleed through. I smile at the injury, laughing at it for what it is. An annoyance.

The nurse walks over to me with a sharp wire and tweezers. I watch as she begins to stitch my shoulder, the blood still drips down my arm and over my tightly bound muscle. The liquid is warm, I feel it on my skin.

As the nurse shoves the wire through the flaps of skin and sews them together, I feel the pain. It hurts, like a bullet wound it burns and tears. But, instead of wincing, instead of crying and wimpering like a dog, I smile.

"All done, Lawton." She says, slapping the injury. I laugh at her in a scoff, angered by her sense of humor. "Next time you want to fight in the prison yard, I suggest you win." She turns around and goes to the table a head of me, putting away the supplies and disposing of the waste.

"I did win," I tell her, rubbing the bandages on my arm and feeling the torn skin beneath. "I'm still breathing." The door swings open and two guards enter. I stare at the weapons on their belt, holstered in such poorly made material. If I really wanted to, I could steal them with ease.

"Come on, Lawton." They grunt, holding up a pair of handcuffs. "It's solitary for you." They approach me, and grab my arms. They slap the cuffs on my wrists, and pull me to my feet. "Apparently you can't handle being around other inmates." They force me into a walk, and I keep pace with them as we exit the room.

"Thanks again, babe." I tell the nurse, giving her a wink.

"Come on," one of the guards growls, purposely hitting my injured arm. He smiles as he does it, hoping to see me show my pain. But he doesn't know me. All he did was get himself put on my list.

As we walk down the hallway, I look at his nametag. "Ovarman?" I say, repeating his name. "I'll remember that." I tell him with a grin. I'll remember that.

 

[trustyside-kick]

Vulko had been gone for hours. However, all the while Orin remained in his cell patiently; he was in no hurry. The guards stopped by his cell, to give him is food, and his intervals of water to keep himself hydrated. Unlike the other prisoners, he was never let out of his cell. He was deemed too powerful and dangerous. Ironic, for Orin was the most humble of inmates in the dungeon.

The cell door opens, and the figure of Nuidis Vulko becomes visible.

"Honestly, the blasphemy which pours from Daus' mouth is neverending."

The door closes shut, and Vulko walks over to Orin, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"He went so far, as to accuse you of being a Shalakite! Truly, truly, ridiculous!"

"What...is a Shalakite?"

"The tribe of Atlanteans referred to as the Shalakites are said to be the very reason for the continent crashing into the waves. You see, Atlantis was once the cradle of civilization thousands and thousands of years ago. But when our ancestors angered the Gods they worshipped...well, the Gods some worshipped rather...Poseidon cast a Flood to sweep all life of Atlantis away as it submerged into the crushing deep."

"And these...Shalakites. They were one of the groups worshipping other Gods?"

Vulko spits at the floor.

"The Shalakites are vermin; worst of all Atlanteans. They worship Nuliajuk, mother of all sea beasts, and dwell in the magical domain of Theirna Na Oge. They are a most foul tribe of Atlanteans. While Poseidonis is blessed with diversity, you do not wish to gaze upon the sights of the Shalakites. Most horrible."

"So this Daus accussed me of being in league with them?"

"Yes. When myself and the council argued your appearance...he argued back that it must have been a spell placed upon your people or Nuliajuk herself to disguise you. Have you ever heard of such rubbish?! And then he went on to saying that because Lord Poseidon could sense something amiss in the waters of Poseidonis, he sent the Kraken to destroy the follower of Nuliajuk: you."

Orin is silent for a moment, taking it all in. Daus is a man bent on destroying Orin, yet he cannot understand why. He chuckles for a moment, as he thinks about what Vulko just said once more.

"You find this ammusing, Orin?"

"I just cannot understand it is all, so I laugh. He believes myself to be the son of Kordax and Cora, correct? Why does he hate them so? Surely, that is the only reason I receive such hatred from Daus; even though he does not even know me."

It takes Vulko a while before he can start speaking about the Fate of Kordax and the Exile of Cora which is obviously a hard subject to speak of; but he eventually summons the strength to hold himself. He tells Orin of how after Poseidon doomed Atlantis and left it for dead, that the very creatures of the sea, started to evolve into what Atlanteans are today. He tells Orin of the main different factions which separate one group from another: Poseidians, Tritonians, Idylists and Shalakites. When Vulko mentions that Kordax was the one who brought several of the smaller tribes together to unite under the city of Poseidonis, and thus give birth to what is now known as the Posiedians Orin can sense that the story does not have a happy ending if Daus hates Kordax so much.

And Orin is correct, of course. While Kordax's efforts brought peace and harmony between several small, diverse, groups of Atlantis...the same could not have been said for the Gods of Old. So when Poseidon came aware of an Atlantean by the name of Kordax spreading such ideologies such as different religious beliefs, Kordax's fate was obvious to Orin. He does not even wish to know of the Exile of Cora.

"Stop. You need not go any further. I believe I understand now. This man Daus merely fears Poseidon's Rage. What a stupid thing."

Nuidis looks at Orin, not believe what he is hearing. Orin shows no fear as he begins to talk illfully about the God of the Sea.

"The Gods are greedy and fickle. Poseidon doomed Atlantis, bringing its Death and Destruction and yet he expects its descendants to worship him still. He abandoned Atlantis so many times when if anything they needed him to embrace it and cradle it as if it was his own offspring."

Orin stands up from the edge of the bed, walking to the coral bars of his cell.

"Your colleague Daus does indeed have something to worry about after all, Nuidis Vulko. Clearly this Sea God and I do not see eye to eye. Would you see me go? You haven't spoken any words that make it seem as though Daus' words have won the Council over."

"I would see that you stay in Poseidons, Orin. You are a hero; a hero our people have needed for a long time. You are indeed correct: the Gods of Old do not diserve our people's praise. I will do everything in my power, to drive Daus out of Poseidonis if I have to, if he cannot see that you are but a blessing and not a curse to doom us all."

As Vulko stands up, he walks over to Orin and places his hand on his shoulder just before he exits the cell. The two have begun a friendship it seems. A friendship...that could easily bring good...or bad to Atlantis. Only time will tell.

 

[Andy C.]

My senses slowly return to me, but even then, there is no light. I've been buried beneath what must be hundreds of tons of rubble. Even lying still, the weight crushes down on me, the layers of dust still choking out the air.

In my injured state, I cannot break free. So I call out to Gaea to heal my wounds.

...and am once again reminded that this world is not my home.

The presence floods into me, and for a moment, I am overwhelmed with pain. It is not pain meant to be inflicted upon me, but the pain this world has kept to itself. This Earth has been suffering, has known horrors the likes of which I have never seen. Where there was once life, there is now torture and death. Its people have been driven out of their homes, forced to serve or die...all at the hands of seven people.

And one of those seven....is me?

No. This world's version of me. The 'Warrior Woman' of which the crazed bomber had spoken. If the woman who bears my face in this realm had been behind this destruction, I can see why it would cause such violent grief in a man.

I feel the planet's strange reaction to my being here. She can see I am by rights the same person as Warrior Woman, but can tell I am not of her creation. And what's truly amazing is, for a split second, she lets me know that I am not the only foreigner on this world. My world's version of this world's seven villains are all here....

As the alien Gaea bonds with my spirit, it lends me what is left of its strength. She heals my wounds, and without words, tells me to save what is left of her people. I am now in this world's debt, and it can only be repaid by stopping Warrior Woman and the other villains here.

With all of my newfound strength, I push against the debris that has me pinned down. It shifts....it bends....and finally gives way.

Bursting forth from a cloud of smoke and dust, I emerge from the ruined building and take to the sky. I ready the Lasso at my hip, and begin the search for the other misplaced heroes. If Despero sent Superman to this world as well, perhaps we can bring down Warrior Woman and her compatriots, and find our way home.

"I will find my other lost heroes," I pledge to the alien Gaea, "and together...we will deliver justice."

The outskirts of the ruined city had long been a haven for the few survivors, as they could travel in smaller packs, spread out, meeting only occasionally to barter supplies and whatnot, remain too small of a target for the predators in the sky.

Today, however, there were nearly twenty families pooling together. A ring of RVs enclosed the group, who were swapping what goods they had, comparing stories, even playing music. It was the largest meeting in that area in years.

The son and daughter of the two most powerful families were getting married.

For years, the nomadic survivors had attempted to unite and establish a solid alliance to face the superhuman invaders. The Mankind Liberation Front had nearly worked, but fell apart following the assassination of Lex Luthor by Superiorman. Now, any group attempting to take on the costumed overlords had to do so on a local scale. This marriage was not an act of love, but a desperate means to bring the sad scraps of humanity back together.

Still, it was no reason not to celebrate. This was the closest thing to happiness most of them had experienced since the war was lost.

The young bride wore a dress made from torn white curtains, a few streaks on her face from washing the dirt and dust from her skin. The groom had nicks all over, having shaved for the first time only hours before. They smiled awkwardly at each other, and the preacher began.

"If anyone has any objections to this union, speak now, or forever hold their--"

Before he could finish his sentence, one of the outer RVs exploded, detonating most of the ordinance inside. Those inside or nearby it were killed outright, and the entire crowd was blown back, as shrapnel and debris rained down on them.

As the smoke cleared, a female figure emerged from the fiery wreckage.

"You have a wedding, and don't think to invite me? I am insulted."

One of the nomads charged wildly at Warrior Woman, who swatted him away with a backhand. Within seconds, he was little more than a speck on the horizon. Another pulled out the assault rifle he'd been hiding under his cloak, and opened fire. The Amazon easily deflected his shots with her platinum gauntlets, redirecting them into the crowd of innocent people, and the last into the shooter's own heart.

"Now, if you would do me the honor, I'd like to present a gift to the happy couple."

The groom stood in front of his betrothed, putting himself between the girl and Warrior Woman, his defiant stance hardly making up for the look of sheer terror in his eyes. The Amazon smiled at the useless gesture.

"On my home island, it was customary for members of the royal family to give a newly wedded couple a gift which they had received from the gods. In keeping with that tradition, I shall give you the same gifts that my masters Ares and Hades had given to me.......war and death."

She reared back her fist, and the terrified young bride closed her eyes.

Then, there was a second deafening boom, this one the sound of a tremendous impact. The horrified crowd was knocked off of their feet a second time, the shockwave rattling their vehicles and shattering glass.

When the girl opened her eyes again, her groom was still standing there...and Warrior Woman was on the ground, trying to pick herself up with one hand, and clutching her jaw with the other.

Floating in the air between the Amazon and the couple was another woman, one who showed no fear as she glared at the one who had driven all of these people to hiding.

"I've seen enough, Warrior Woman. Your reign ends now."

 

[Noon]

Gordon opens the door slightly, staring at his daughter as she stands outside the door. "Hello, Barb," he starts, his voice hesitant. He turns around and looks over his shoulder, scoping the room. As he searches the shadows for his costumed ally, he sees no trace, and lets out a sigh of relief. Good, he thinks, his body loosening up slightly. That was close.

Gordon opens the door wide and stands in the opening, staring at his daughter as she looks up to him. "I'm working on a case, here, Barbara." He tells her, still flustered. "What's the matter?"

"Does something have to be the matter for a gal to drop in on her dear ol' dad?"

She tries to peer over his shoulder but he blocks most of the doorway with his body and the room behind him is dark.

"Were you just talking to someone? I though I heard voices."

Her dad frowns at her in that 'I'm busy' way and she sighs.

"I just wanted to say I thought I might pop home tonight for dinner with you and mom. Wanted to make sure you'd actually be there this time"
​

 

[Watchman]

On Mechanical Kafka Wings We Fly: Prologue

Then,

Danny the Street is like no place on Earth. No one can see it unless it wants you to see it. It attracts an unusual bunch of people but life was good on Danny the Street. Life was always good and happy. Although, something very bad had happen.

One day, A Man Named Smith arrived to the town. Something was dark about Smith. Where his heart was suppose to be there was only a deep void. After Smith had set up shop on Danny the Street more and more negative forces had arrived on the street, the Men from N.O.W.H.E.R.E. Life on Danny the Street became dark and gritty. People like Red Jack, Mr. Nobody, and his group of art terrorist had arrived, the Dada Bunch. Life had transformed on Danny the Street. Something bad is brewing on Danny the Street and it's about to explode.

*****
The 60's

"Come one, come all! Welcome to Dr. Caulder's World of the strange. weird, and odd. His DOOM Patrol! My named is Larry Trainor and I'm your guide to the bizarre!" It is a giant circus tent and a man pulls up a part of the tent letting people. There is a hallway with cages and windows with the oddest sights ever.

"Our first sight the strongest man in the world, Flex Mentallo!" A man wearing trunks a boots and was flexing. "Watch this muscle man of mystery use his Hero Halo." He flexs and the words Hero of the Beach appears in golden above his head. The group keeps moving unaware of someone watching them. Two men stand in the shadows watching. One in a wheelchair and another are watching the group pass along.

"There are many wonderous sights in the big top." Larry spreads out his arms as a black shape raises out of him. "Meet the Negative Spirit!" A collective awe comes from the crowd. "But my friends the most amazing piece of the strange doctor's house. A light surrounds a tiny area of the room.

"Meet Mr. Steele, the Robotman!" Red eyes glared at the crowd as the machine stirred.

*****
Now,

The machine stirred and threw itself up. He had knocked over a few items, nothing but junk. He let out a scream that sounded like it was coming out radio gaining static. He smashes a through steel and stone like paper. He catches his reflection in a pool of water.

"W...what the hell?" He touches his orange steel face. "Don't remeber! I don't remember." He punches the stone wall and slumps down.

 

[Eddie Brock]

DETECTIVE JOHN GRAYSON

Beeping. Talking. Squeaking wheels. Without opening my eyes, I can already tell that I'm in the hospital. That's good. It means that I got close enough before I collapsed. After all, the alternative was bleeding out in the middle of some street somewhere. So I can't say that I can complain. Of course, I shouldn't have been shot in the first place. But that's a different discussion for a different time.

"Dad?" A whisper. But I know the voice. Richard Grayson. Dick. My son. He must have seen me stirring. I'm glad he's here. "Dad?" he repeats.

Finally opening my eyes, I look and see Dick sitting on the empty hospital bed on the other side of the room. "Hey, son," I respond before yawning. "How'd you know where to find me?"

Shrugging, he explains, "They called me when you were admitted. They said something about a total stranger bringing you in." I smile. There is still some good in this city. "So...how are you?" Dick asks, trying to remain casual. I can detect the concern in his voice, though. It's only natural.

"Me? I'm fine," I insist. I actually don't feel that bad. "It's my own damn fault," I laugh. "First of all, I should have been wearing my vest. Second of all, I shouldn't have been sniffing around."

"You were just doing your job," Dick assures me.

I nod distantly. I wish it were that simple. "And look where that got me," I reply with a laugh. This time, as I laugh, I feel the slightest sensation of pain in my shoulder. So I lean back and rest my head against the pillow.

After a reasonable silence, Dick announces, "I'm glad you're okay, Dad." The kid has had it tough. Ever since his mother died, neither he nor I have been the same person. And with what I do - putting my life on the line constantly - it must be scary for him. He handles it well - all things considered.

"Me too, son," I state honestly. Closing my eyes, I repeat, "Me too."
​

 

[Saved]

"Does something have to be the matter for a gal to drop in on her dear ol' dad?"​

She tries to peer over his shoulder but he blocks most of the doorway with his body and the room behind him is dark.​

"Were you just talking to someone? I though I heard voices."​

Her dad frowns at her in that 'I'm busy' way and she sighs.​

"I just wanted to say I thought I might pop home tonight for dinner with you and mom. Wanted to make sure you'd actually be there this time"​

Gordon rubs his neck and lets out a long sigh. He stares about the room for a moment in silence, trying to avoid from looking into his daughers irresitable eyes. "I'll try, Barb." He starts, his sentence slow and brought out. "I can't make any promises. We've got some....big problems tonight."

 

[Batman]

"Were you just talking to someone? I thought I heard voices."

The evidence is hard to follow from the start. With the crime scene so scattered, it hardly comes as a surprise, but the more frustrating it becomes, the more I realize that it might have been the intent. For all of The Joker's madness, his psychotic tendencies and soforth, to call him anything short of a genius would be inaccurate. He's practically established himself as a criminal mastermind. He's a killer who knows exactly what he's doing, and that could pose more of a threat to the city than any of us realized. We underestimated him. It's a mistake I intend to avoid in the future.

I shift through the files quickly, but patiently, eyeing every detail from the provided photographs. The first is a bent and rusted key, standard among those used for the country's holding cells. Coated in blood and worn down. It's a possibility that this is what The Joker used to escape from his cuffs, if Gordon's men even considered to bind him in the first place. The fact that he managed to take this only confirms a strategy. Either he or Harvey Dent made it a point to allow himself for capture on the night of the Robinson Park massacre. Dent may have even provided the key himself, though it's unlikely.

Tapping the side of my cowl, I switch the lenses to night-vision and activate a scanning feature. The antenna in the hollowed ears provide a direct feed to The Batcave's central harddrive, and every scan I make is saved into the archives. I'll have to remember to thank Wayne Enterprises' R&D department for coming up with that one. Once I'm no longer unemployed, that is.

The second piece of evidence is a ballistics report on the gunshots used to kill a few of the Lieutenants. Even with an entire building full of police officers, The Joker managed to seize the entire MCU in a standoff and make it out alive. Not only is he a criminal genius and a psychotic, he's fearless. Which may explain why I've had so much trouble trying to keep him subdued... fear is the method I rely on. But I had always assumed every criminal had both a clear set of motives and a common amount of superstition to aide my disguise. Clearly, Joker proved me wrong. Even by only a short margin, he is unlike any of the common criminals infesting my city.

Scanning that into the lenses' databank, I switch the evidence around, looking for anything I might have missed. I'm not usually this paranoid when it comes to forensics... but I've come to find that despite what many believe, there's a method to his madness. Even if that method is hard to find, The Joker is sending us all a clear enough message with every move he makes. He's challenging us to stop him. And the problem is, when he's the one that's winning that struggle, he has the room to make those challenges. The rest of us just don't have the patience to look beyond those threats, and I think he may be counting on that.

The third piece of evidence is rather strange to make out, at first. Even the detectives who wrote the report have clear trouble trying to deciepher what it is. But the farther I pull it away from my eyes, the clearer it becomes. It's some kind of... message. Presumably scratched into a shattered piece of the cell's molars. Letters are too small to make out by any bare eye, but I manage to zoom in just enough to make out the bolder letters. 'Kill-the-cop. Hang-the-dame. Slice-the-bird. Make-them-bleed. Make-him-suffer.'

'The cop'. That has to be Jim. He was the one that made The Joker's initial arrest, the night in Robinson Park. And from what I've been told, they didn't have too fondly of a conversation when The Joker was being interrogated. Gordon had to leave the room. Surely, he's out for revenge, though that clashes with the theory of a planned capture. But who really knows, with this madman? If he's going after Gordon, I'll need to keep a close eye on him. Both of them, and Gordon's family. I refuse to allow the only trustworthy cop this city has to share the same fate as the corpses that are sitting inside.

'The dame' is rather obvious. For some reason, Joker's developed a fascination with Commissioner Loeb. Out of all of the cops he could have escaped with, he singled her out and committed a kidnapping. I wish I could say I believe it's because he wanted to cripple the department, but something tells me it was much more. His deranged mind was drawn to her, specifically, and he was determined to leave the building with Loeb draped around his shoulder. But why? Did they know eachother prior to whatever transformation turned him into what he is? Could he have been a criminal before all of this chaos started? Or it could have been simply a case of rattling Gordon - after all, no one has said anything to prove that The Joker's targets couldn't all be connected, in some capacity.

'The bird' is what throws me off. My first thought went to Dinah Lance, one of my informants, who's recently began a vigilante career under the monkier of 'The Black Canary'. But to my knowledge, Lance and Joker have never met, either casually or professionally. To be fair, however, there seems to be alot that Lance is keeping from me... maybe out of spite, maybe out of a need for her own personal privacy. I've tried to keep myself from prying further, but when a connection like this arises, I'm not so sure that could be wise. Lance is a detective, which could feasibly put her in Joker's path. Unless 'the bird' means someone else, which seems to likely be the case.

Make 'them' bleed. 'Them'. A gang? A team? The entire city? It's all but impossible to guess. These messages weren't left for me or any of the forensics to find... these were his own personal musings. The Joker had a revenge strategy for his escape, and if I don't find him soon, he may be given the chance to inact it. God knows, he already has one of them. If he can get to the others, there's no telling what horrors he has in store.

And finally, make 'him' suffer. 'Him' could be alluding to anyone. Gordon, The Mayor, Dent himself, a previous associate. Before his allieance with Two-Face, The Joker was killing off a pattern of wealthy men residing in the city. Why he took such a pattern, no one knows, and I've yet to deduce. Despite my efforts, there seems to be no clear connection between his original killings up until last year, around the time of the OMAC invasion in Metropolis. My time in that city could have easily provided him the opprotunity he needed to meet Dent in the open and organize this plan. Or vice versa, if Harvey really is responsible for all of this.

The final piece of signifcant evidence comes in the form of several strands of Loeb's blood. Not enough to signify that he's already killed her, but enough to make me worried that he intends to spill more. Cautiously, I turn the paper, trying to make out any other details, before the lenses begin another scan. From what the report indicates, the blood was intentionally wiped across the floor of The Joker's cell, before he made his escape underground. There has to be something in that blood. A nerve toxin, presumeably, in order to render her unconcious. Haven't got the time to begin an analysis, but I know someone who could...

Reaching into my belt, I pop open the buckle's cover, revealing a miniature computer screen. A multi-purpose console, if you will, designed for emergency communication more than anything. Quickly, I type in a small message for Alfred to find on his cell phone's module e-mail. Even though I know he's coming into the city to find me, I can't chance the trail growing cold, if it means Loeb's life. He'll have to do half of my work while I wait for Gordon's daughter to leave.

Alfred,

Blood sample taken from MCU. Loeb, Jillian. Bring up match - Find any irregularities. Toxins, drugs, nerve damage. Anything connected to Joker escape.

I place the buckle back on, and silently listen for the status on Gordon's daughter. She's still in the room, unfortunately. I'm beginning to wonder if I should leave... Jim can get my report on the evidence at any time. It's only a matter of whether The Joker will strike again, soon, that leaves me hesitant.

What is he up to?

 

[SenseiofCheese]

DAMAGE


Kneeling down on the ground, Grant looked up into the sky. It was blue. Clear.

beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEEEEEEEEEEEE EE

He closed his eyes.

His head was throbbing again.

It always started out slow after a release, but it just kept building until the next one. He could feel the destructive energy course through his body.

Grant Emerson opened his eyes. Lying down on the ground, he stared up at the deceptively peaceful blue sky. Feeling the dirt jab uncomfortably at various parts of his body, his skills of deduction led him to believe he was still alive.

Damn.

Raising his head with a grunt, he looked down at his body. Steam was rising from his skin, his clothes nothing more than tattered remains clinging desperately to his frame. He cracked his neck, knuckles and back, as he stood up and looked at the challenge presented to him.

"Maybe the rock climbing classes weren't such a bad idea." he muttered to himself, as he started climbing.

 

[Noon]

Gordon rubs his neck and lets out a long sigh. He stares about the room for a moment in silence, trying to avoid from looking into his daughers irresitable eyes. "I'll try, Barb." He starts, his sentence slow and brought out. "I can't make any promises. We've got some....big problems tonight."

"Just another night in Gotham, huh?" She sighs and turns away from the door.

"Well, I guess I'll catch you later, I got things to do too." She hears the door shut behind her as she walks away and she sticks her hands in her pockets.

<I'd probably have to commit a crime to see my dad more. Even the gotham wackjobs seem to get more attention than his own daughter>

Outside the GCPD it's only two blocks to Gotham U campus, so Barbara heads over to the comp lab to chat with some buddies.

Sitting in the near empty computer lab she types in her passwords and logs on. An instant message pops up in the corner.

[Devils_Icon]: Hey Babs!
[Oracle]: Heys D, what's up?
[Devils_Icon]: Not much, did you that info on new games development for me?
[Oracle]: Just uploading the files now

She inserts a cd and copies the files onto the desktop, then opens a webpage to upload the files to.

[Oracle]: You didn't get them from me right? And don't go putting this stuff on your p2p again.
[Devils_Icon] I know I know, I owe you one
[Oracle] Damn right you do, Ubisoft was harder to hack than the FBI
[Devils_Icon] You hacked the FBI?!
[Oracle] jk, D
[Devils_Icon] Haha, yeah...
<files uploaded>
[Oracle] Ok that's the files online, heres the link http://www.megaupload.com/?d=FY9G2IBI
[Oracle] I gtg now though, enjoy
[Devils_Icon] Cool, Catch you later Babs
[Oracle] not if I can help it :P

Oracle has logged off

 

[Byrd Man]

The Fourty Year Old Archer
Part VI
​

"What in the hell am I doing?" I say to myself as I look myself over in the bathroom mirror.

I'm decked out from head to toe in green gear, most of it I got at work. The goggles were a different story, a buddy of mine works at a local sporting goods store. I lied and told him it was a gift for Connor, he bought it and cut me a deal.

They work real good too, I have night vision as well as thermal vision. I'm like that spy guy on that game Connor and Mia like to play.

All the arrows are custom as well, the shafts came from work but I added my own tips, even including a few of those trick arrows I used to shoot.

"I can't do this." I say as I stare at myself some more.

It's almost midnight, both Connor and Mia are asleep. I just pray they don't wake up and see me in this outfit.

I keep on starting at my reflection in the mirror. It's been twenty years since the olympics.

Two decades since my medal was stripped of me. People think I bribed the judge. But I didn't. That damn judge couldn't handle the fact that I beat his countryman.

For twenty years I've been trying to forget that embaresment. I tried to move on, maried a fabulous woman, had three of the best kids in the world. But it always comes back to that day, what I didn't do. I think about each day I work behind that Wal-Mart counter and stand on my feet until they ache and hurt.

Time for me to do something with my life, to do what I was meant to do.
​

*****************
​

"AHHH!" A woman screams out into the night.

Two men run after her as she races down a dark alleyway.

"HELP!!!"

"Shut up, *****!" One of them yells as they close in on her. I'm not sure what they have in mind with the woman, but I won't wait to find out.

THWIP!

The arrow flies through the air and lands at the feet of the two men, gas errupts from the tip and covers them in a thick shroud of fog.

I move quickly, leaping into the fog and fighting the two men. A kick in the knee sends one to the ground. A sharp elbow in the nose breaks the other would be attackers nose.

While he's holding his nose in pain, I grab him by the head and throw him hard against the wall.

The one I kicked in the knee tries to get up, but I stomp on the back of his head and knock him out.

"Who?" The woman mumbles as the fog dissapears.

"Well, mam." I say as I walk out of the shroud of smoke.

"I'm still workng out a name, but I guess you can call me...."

"The Green Arrow"​

 

[Saved]

As Barbara leaves the room, Jim watches carefully. He sees the door close, and hears it click shut. He takes a deep breath, and breathes a sigh of relief.

Rubbing his head, he turns around and looks about the room. He doesn't see his caped ally, not in the open nor in the shadows. "Batman?" Jim asks, expecting the vigilante to make his presence known. As Gordon hears only silence, he lets out an aggravated sigh, and frowns. "Dammit."

 

[Batman]

"I'm here."

Jim nearly jumps, as I stand next to him, pulling myself from the shadows. Indicating the copier files, I drop them onto his desk, promptly indicating the first page. He eyes it, cautiously, before realizing that it's the analisys of Loeb's bloodwork. Scarce as it may be at the moment, Alfred was able to find some irregularlities between this and Loeb's previous medical records. The Joker did something... I'm just not sure what, at this point.

"I've cross-examined the levels of toxin through unrelated blood results. Loeb has enough in her bloodstream to render her weak enough for any purpose The Joker wants."

I sneer, almost unwilling to say the next few words. Loeb is the leader of a pack of corrupt cops, and I have enough evidence to link her to at least half of the felonies this office has committed. But I can't consider that as a justifiable reason to let The Joker murder her. She's still a human being. And I made a vow...

"Wherever he's keeping her, she has to be found. Fast."

 

[Catman_prb]

Tom Elliot lived in a medium sized house in one of the parts of Gotham where you weren't as likely to get stabbed as anywhere else. Which wasn't saying much - his wife Sarah kept a shotgun on the kitchen table all year round. It was little things like that, odd to anyone else, that made Tommy love his wife. His little daughter Kayleigh was eight years old, and normally played with the boys from the neighbourhood. She was a complete tomboy, but once or twice Sarah or Tom would still find her trying on a dress or two when no one was looking.

Sarah was a primary school teacher, and normally got home early enough to make dinner for the family. Usually Tom was home by eight for dinner. However on this particular night, it was gone half past ten when Tom Elliot returned to his quiet little house. There was blood on his hands, and he was soaked to the skin, browny-red hair plastered over his face. There was blood on his jacket too. He rang the doorbell instead of just unlocking the door as he normally would. Sarah answered in her dressing gown.

"Tommy! Oh my god, what happened?" she asked, a hand flying to her mouth.

"Is Kayleigh in bed?" he asked quietly, putting a bloody hand to his forehead.

"An hour ago, what's going on?" she said as he walked inside the house dejectedly.

"There was a murderer. Real twisted one too," he mumbled "I made a mistake that cost three people their lives. Screwed up real bad. You go on up to bed, I'll join you in a few,"

Sarah nodded slowly, and walked up to the bedroom, while Tommy walked over to the drinks cabinet and pulled himself out a bottle of scotch. Slowly, he made his way back to the armchair, flopped down and flicked on the TV. He didn't bother to get a glass, just drank straight from the bottle.

"Screwed up real bad," he muttered.

 

[Jono Starsmore]

"Now, they will know the true nature of horror.."
U l t i m a t e
S c a r e c r o w ​

Crane awoke from his slumber, only to feel the immense pain from his previous battle with Batman, let alone his own ally, Black Mask ; his assumption was that he was under the influence of Creeper. Never-the-less, the Doctor was in pain.​

Yet still, the citizens were unaware of his alias....the Scarecrow. His credentials at Arkham would allow him permission to re-enter of course, to further expand on his studies. This time, he would be more prepared for...the Bat. Oh how he would pay for his interference. Always interfering ; taking matters into his own hands. Well, the Batman would know his true fear -- that dwelled even deeper in his vigilant mind. They would all know. Gotham would know.​

"Dr. Crane? How are you feeling today?", the rather over-beautified nurse asked, flashing her fake eyelashes as she questioned him.​

"Almost like new.." , Doctor Crane smiled. He knew her true fear ; and that was not being accepted by society. So she powdered herself up everyday, and caked on make-up like a beauty queen..to look good for....patients? It was odd indeed.​

"Tell me..", he glanced at her nametag, "...Sandra. Why is it that you go everyday, masking yourself to only reveal your true insecurities? They are as clear as day."​

The nurses eyes fell down onto the floor in embarassment. It seemed his assumption was right. A tear fell before she bolted out of the room. He wanted to see no one. All he wanted was vengence, and to get out of here as soon as possible. Perhaps the schizophrenic ex-district attorney, Harvey Dent, would provide him with assistance. But who really knew with that man. His decisions were made by the flip of a coin.​

No. Once he was released from this hospice, he would come back. They would know that the boogeyman really did live under their beds , they would know...​

 

[Saved]

"I'm here."

Jim nearly jumps, as I stand next to him, pulling myself from the shadows. Indicating the copier files, I drop them onto his desk, promptly indicating the first page. He eyes it, cautiously, before realizing that it's the analisys of Loeb's bloodwork. Scarce as it may be at the moment, Alfred was able to find some irregularlities between this and Loeb's previous medical records. The Joker did something... I'm just not sure what, at this point.

"I've cross-examined the levels of toxin through unrelated blood results. Loeb has enough in her bloodstream to render her weak enough for any purpose The Joker wants."

I sneer, almost unwilling to say the next few words. Loeb is the leader of a pack of corrupt cops, and I have enough evidence to link her to at least half of the felonies this office has committed. But I can't consider that as a justifiable reason to let The Joker murder her. She's still a human being. And I made a vow...

"Wherever he's keeping her, she has to be found. Fast."

Gordon thinks for a moment, musing over Batman's words. Inside he feels conflicted, his emotions of his views toward Loeb fighting with his inner sense of honor and virtue. Loeb isn't the best of people on this planet. He thinks. If it were me in this situation, I'm sure she wouldn't do much to save me. But...that's what sets the two of us apart. I'm sworn to protect and serve. No matter who it is.

Gordon turns away from Batman and breaths slowly as he begins to formulate an idea. "You know what he'll do to her." He says with a saddened voice. Jim walks to the bookcase on the side of the room. He reaches onto the middle shelf, and puts his hand on the radio resting up against a row of books.

He puts his fingers on the device, and turns it on. He lowers the volume, and begins to shift between the channels. As he turns the dial, he looks over his shoulder to Batman. "Don't want anyone listening in." He smiles.

As Gordon moves through the stations, he stops on one of the news channels. A man's voice begins to speak, and his words stop Gordon's finger from changing the station. "-The man is a complete nut, Johnny." A man says.

"Of course he is, Eric." Another voice chimes in. "He kidnapped the police commissioner and already has started his demands." Gordon turns back to Batman, and the two figures listen carefully. "I mean, he made a broadcast to all of Gotham tonight on Engel's show, demanding the Batman. He's crazy and insane. It's just all part of his game, Eric."

"I agree a hundred percent, John. These caped crusaders and men with masks only insight this madness. Joker is playing this game for one purpose. The Batman. The world would be a better place without him. Then maybe we wouldn't have these lunatics running our streets."

"Well, I disagree. I think the Batman is doing good."

"Oh, come on, the Joker is doing this to get the Batman. It's just madmen like the Joker want to exploit this in order to get some kind of thrill. I say Batman turns himself in. He'll do this city a greater service that way. "

"Well, we may disagree, but there's one thing I'm sure of. Gotham's finest is probably going crazy tonight as they try to find this homicidal clown."

"That is for certain, Eric. The police department has-" Gordon lowers the volume of the radio, and turns back to Batman. He stares at the dark shadowy figure in shock, unsure of what he has just heard.

"...did you know about this?" Gordon asks, still in bewilderment.

 

[Batman]

I remain silent. And not because I don't want to admit to Gordon that in all my research, in all of my efforts to keep Gotham under control under this chaos, I let The Joker slip through my grasp on the city's sanity... but simply that, for the first time in this insane night, I'm completely unsure of how to react. All that flashes through my mind is a relay image of that pale jester's mask that haunted me up until the days leading to his capture. Smiling at me. Taunting me. Laughing in my face, using this entire night as one convulted joke against me. And by the sound of those officers' reactions, he's succeeded.

The first thing that strikes me as peculiar is the fact that The Joker wasted no time in broadcasting a message to reach me. Access to a frequency signal isn't nessecarily the easiest thing to come by, telling me that he had men on the outside during his time in Gotham Central. This can't be apart of Dent's plan... he wouldn't take the risk. This is Joker's scheme, through and through. And the worst part of it is... I'm the one he's after, this time. He's made it a personal vendetta.

That madman has made this personal. I already want my hands wrapped around his throat...

"Did you know?", Gordon asks again, frustrated.

"No, Jim.", I flatly respond. "I didn't."

Bringing my cape to a spin, I sharply turn, and head towards the window.

"I've marked down all of the information I could gather on the files. Use them however you wish."

I can hear Gordon slowly approaching. Be it my own paranoia, but I'm not particularly comfortable with that, given how quickly those cops expressed anger towards my unwillingness to give into Joker's demands.

"And where are you going?", He hesitantly asks. "We still have to-"

"For now, you'll have to operate on your own.", I respond back. "I have a clown to catch."

Before Gordon can protest, I'm already gone. Faded, into what's left of the blackness of the Gotham dawn.

I once thought that this Batman persona I created gave me unlimited potential. I could do anything to it's criminals, as long as I retained the key element of fear. And I thought that I had. But The Joker's proven me wrong on so many levels that it infuriates me. And worse, it scares me. Because now, I've just learned firsthand what Batman can't do.

He can't endure this.

 

[Green Lantern]

"But first. I need to get out of that monster's clothes. Do you still have any of 'your' Barry's clothes? And is there a costume shop around here?"

"I just have a pair of jeans that I sometimes wear when I'm lonely... And there's one on Gardner, about 20 blocks from here, why?"

"I have something in mind."

He took the jeans she offered, and put them on, faster than she could watch, leaving the dark costume in a heap on the floor.

"Turn on the TV. I have a feeling that your normally scheduled programming is about to become preempted."

With that, Barry was gone. The owner of the nearby costume shop felt a gust of wind and saw a blur of red as a note and a $50 bill floated to the counter.

Thanks for the costume. Don't have time to chat. Price tag said $30, here's a $50 for your troubles. Its for a good cause. -The Flash

Sitting next to the note was a tag for a costume that wasn't all that popular. The shopkeep went back to his superhero section, and sure enough, the costume he had of the Flash was missing. Green Lantern, Black Canary and the other members of the Justice Society still hung on the rack, but the costume of Jay Garrick was conspicuously missing.

Moments later, Lampert Stadium.

Fans watched in awe as between plays of the game, a man appeared at midfield. The refs tried to get him off the field, but he wouldn't move. The man was dressed unusually. Red boots with golden wings adorned his feet, blue tights covered his legs, topped with a red shirt. Emblazoned on the shirt was a golden lightning bolt. The man appeared as though he belonged on a Saturday morning cartoon, not a Saturday afternoon football game. His blue eyes burned with a fury so intense those that got close to him knew to back away. His face bore a serious and somber tone shadowed by the helmet on his head, hiding his features, this was a man who had business here today. The stranger beckoned to one of the sideline reporters. Looking down, so as to keep his identity hidden, and moving just slightly enough and fast enough to mask it even more, the man spoke into the microphone. His voice boomed, serious and angry.

"Walt West. The Rogue. Monster. Man Child. Whatever you wish to refer to yourself as, the time is here. Your reign of terror is over, and I'm the man who is going to end you."

As Barry had hoped, Walt was in the crowd. Within seconds, the two men were facing each other.

[blackout]"And who are you? I've taken out worse than you, you comic book reject."[/blackout]

The stranger flung the helmet shading his face to the sideline, and stared down what seemed to be a shattered mirror image of himself.

"I'm your worst nightmare, Walt. I'm the ghost of that first innocent life you took. I'm here to make you pay for that crime and all the others you have committed since. I'm your retribution."

Indeed, Walt was stunned as he looked into the eyes of the man he had so long ago killed. He stuttered out a response, unconvincingly.

[blackout]"Al-- Allen? I... I killed you once. I can do it again."[/blackout]
As he spit out his venomous words, he launched a fist at his enemy's head.

Before even he could know what was going on, the hand was swatted aside and a loud crack echoed through the silent arena as the bones of the forearm snapped.

"No Walt. Fool me once, shame on me."

 

[Blacklight]

The Rebirth of Cool pt.II...


Ernest Hemingway High School. Or as I call it, hell on earth. Filled with some of the toughest gangbangers to ever walk the streets of Dakota. Second only to Gotham...

As you could imagine, it's not the best place for a nerd like me to go to school. I mean, let's face it. I've been forced inside my locker so much that it's like a second home to me, and the lack of lunch from having my money stolen is making me look like I have anorexia. I hate it here. I want to just move so badly, but I can't. It's not good for my physical or mental health to keep coming here five days a week. But then again, what choice do I have?

BRRRRIIIINNNGGG!!!

"Virgil, why are you taking the long way around? The science lab is right down the hall..." Richie asked me.

"Because I don't feel like getting pounded today, Richie. Francis heads that way..."

"Well okay then. See you there..."

I then turned around to take the long way to my next class. It only took a few minutes, and I could see the door. Hopefully I don't run into--

"Hey, b****face. Where do you think you're going?"

Francis...

"Hey! I'm talking to you, f****t. Answer me." He said, pulling on my shoulder and pushing me against the wall.

"What do you want, Francis?" I asked annoyed.

"What did you just call me, queer?"

"I'm sorry. What do you want, Biz Money B?" I rephrased, scowling.

"That's more like it. I need you to give me your money. I feel like eating today..."

"No..."

"What was that, c***sucker?" He said shaking me against the wall.

"I said no, Francis! I'm sick of your s***!"

"Fine. Have it your way then..." he said with a chuckle.

And the last thing I saw before it all went black was Francis "Biz Money B" Stone's fist hitting my face...


This school seriously sucks...

 

[Batman]

"You hear that, Batman? You and I are going to mold Gotham's future. Either it becomes a city full of crazies like us, or you get to save the day again. You have until midnight, tomorrow. And if you don't show, I'll kill her anyway. Then who's to blame for being the monster?"

Hours have passed since I returned to review The Joker's threat. I've had the video playing on a loop in almost half of that time. My eyes are beginning to tire from a lack of sleep, and all I can do is rewind and play his message again. I look down at the notepad infront of me, re-reading his speech from when I wrote down a transcription. With any other criminal, words would be irrelevant. With a mind as psychotic as his, however, the answers almost lie within everything he says. Something could be there. Perhaps even the key to Loeb's rescue, provided she's still even alive.

Reluctantly, I play the tape again, checking for body language. Subliminals. Anything to understand The Joker's motives, or lack thereof.

"Don't you just hate th-"

I fast-forward, agitated. Upon second thought, I've realized that there's absolutely no reason I have to sit through his maddening rant yet again. I've studied all there is to know. Now, it's simply a matter of needing to let technology take the place of mental observation...

"-urse you did. Anything to make the peanut gallery pleased. You leave the flying rodent to scurry along your rooftops, but when it comes to one, innocent little clown, it's differe-"

Angered, I resume the fast-forward. I've promised myself not to take this personally. Whatever The Joker's schemes, they existed long before I encountered him. I'm sure of it. No matter what he says, I cannot give in to the belief that I was somehow responsible for his creation, his flair for the dramatic. No matter the doubts... I am not, nor was I ever responsible for this maniac.

That's what I have to keep telling myself. And even then, not taking this personally becomes more of a chore than an objective.

"-See? This is news I can live with!"

I pause the tape just before the video ends. The computer's collected all of the information it needs. Now, to see what it's found. Cracking my knuckles to keep myself awake, I type in a few commands, watching as the text scrolls across the top of The Joker's frozen, grinning image.

VIDEO SCAN: 2:06:26. Audio Analysis:/Background_

The scan begins, as I patiently await the result. Depending on the variables, aswell as the quality, it could take minutes. Whatever noises in the video's background that the computer finds could prove to be a direct clue as to The Joker's precise location. Or at least, give me possible ideas as to where to look for him. He hasn't sent any location to the police, despite his promises, so I'm going to have to do this the hard way. Hopefully by sundown, I'll have enough of something substantial to begin a search.

As my mind dwells, Alfred approaches, predictably carrying a dinner tray. I ignore it as he places it next to me, prompting the usual eyeroll I catch from him.

"I do cook over a stove, sir. Nothing I prepare is going to bloody kill you."

I look at him, serious, before focusing back on the screen. He looks at it aswell, pondering. "One would hope that's not a rousing game of Solitaire."

"Why did it come to this?"

He turns to me, surprised by my words. "I beg your pardon?"

"The Joker. The Scarecrow. Two-Face. All of them.", I elaborate. "Before I started this crusade, Gotham was never plagued by such a clear pattern of madness. But when I made my move on the mob, there seemed to be no end. One showed up after another. Am I somehow responsible for them, Alfred?"

He struggles with an answer, at first. I can tell that he's wrestled with the thought aswell... which, frankly, doesn't leave me all that enthused. Finally, he begins clearing his throat, in his usual manner.

"If I may, perhaps it isn't that you are responsible for them, as they are responsible for you."

I raise an eyebrow.

"What I mean is, sir, look at what you're doing right now. Capturing this fellow has all but consumed you. And don't try to deny it - I know that look in your eyes. You're possessed. And in some ways, Master Bruce, I fear that the existence of these unhealthy individuals even fuel your crusade, in some ways.", He rants. "Without them, would you have truly remained as Batman for this long?"

I consider what he says, deeply in thought. It's not as if I haven't considered the possibility myself. But the fundamental truth that Alfred fails to realize is that I'm not fighting these criminals in order for me to exist. I'm fighting them so I don't have to. I need Batman to retire. And until that day comes, I'm only going to continue to be 'possessed', as he put it.

"Yes.", I slowly respond. "The sad truth of it is, Alfred, is yes, I would have."

The scan stops, in that moment. Now, to see what's-

Hello, citizens of a fragile and weak world. Hello, my future serfs...my future vassals, my...future slaves. He Who is Mighty speaks to you all, and you will give me your undivided attention. Enjoy what little time you have on this green and blue, soon to be desolate, world of yours. For, come tomorrow, a new will will run your nation and soon the entire world. For, come tomorrow, the skies will fall with fire, the seas will boil, and everything that is green on your world will turn to a black dust. Tomorrow...your White House shall be replaced with a stronghold fitting for your new master. Tomorrow...Despero is hailed sovereign.

...

What... on Earth was that?

"What on Earth was that?"

I turn, surprised, as Alfred stares at me in a bewildered manner. His face says it all. Whatever I just heard... he heard it, too. But I have a hard time believing it to be impossible. No one could have spoken to both of us that loudly and clearly without being in the same room. And if we had an intruder in the cave, it would have said something more clearly to gauge my attention. From what the message said, it was as if it were reaching a worldwide audience.

Which could only mean...

"Go upstairs, right now. Check every available news outlet you can find. See what they're saying about a bizarre, unexplainable message exactly like the one you and I just heard.", I command to Alfred. "And hurry. I need any specifications as soon as possible."

"Right away, sir.", he replies with a nod, before rushing towards the stairs leading back into the Manor.

As he does, I immediately log onto the internet, and check any of the major international news sites, substantially minimizing the time it would take to check them all. And sure enough, I've found three possible matches relating to the message. 'Citizens complain of common mental log', translated from a headline in Brazil. 'EMP Emergency!', from Austraila. 'The Man Called 'Despero': Fabrication Or Grim New Reality?', from Japan.

They've heard it. They've all heard it. Every human being in the entire world has heard the very message Alfred and I just heard. My God...

"Master Wayne!"

I turn, sharply, as Alfred rushes back down.

"You can save your breath, old friend. I already know what everyone in the world does. That message was telepathically linked to every one of us."

"I'm afraid we have a much bigger cause for caution than that.", He promptly interrupts. "I recall you telling me of a man who can fly from Metropolis, during the extraterrestrial incident?"

"Brainiac wasn't an alien. He was a machine,", I correct. "And the man you're talking about is Superman. What about him?"

"He's missing."

I pause. That... is rather interesting. But a bit unrelated to our current crisis.

"As are others. The fast man, from Keystone..."

"The Flash?", I ask, slightly alarmed at the timing. "Barry Allen is missing aswell?"

"It's what the news stations are reporting. Aswell as a flying woman in a tiara."

"Wonder Woman.", I inform him, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

I'm by no means willing to start a team with them or anything, but I'm perfectly capable of admitting that I can admire their efforts to save humanity, when Brainiac tried to enslave us. And given at least two of them know my true identity, it almost automatically links me to the case anyway. Three superpowered costumed vigilantes go missing at almost the same time. Or at least, in a close pattern, given how long it took for the media to notice their disappearances. It can't be coincidence.

And the message. Could that have anything to do with it? Could this 'Despero' be involved? I have to find out. And there's only one way I can. I have to locate him, if I can't locate any of the three heroes. Even though I hate to do this, The Joker will have to wait. This is a threat too hard to ignore, even for me.

I turn to Alfred, determined more than ever. For once, I'm taking on something bigger than Gotham... and I'm afraid that this time, I may be alone.

"Get the car, Alfred. We're heading downtown."

 

[Batman]

Tonight was going to be something special.

The damp and rotten carnival grounds seem to convey just the idea of the forthcoming plans for the evening, as various hired men began to work on the mechanics of each and every ride, outside. All of whom were adorned in leather jackets, gloves, and clown masks. It was pouring rain amongst blackened skies on this side of town, which only added to the effect of what was to transpire ahead of time. Truly, noted the watchful eye that poked through one of the darkly shadowed tents, all was going according to plan.

The silent figure that watched moved cautiously back into the safer sanctions of the tent, as he approached a dimly lit and cracked mirror, before sitting down on a wooden stool infront of it. Grabbing a small canister, the figure poured out a skin-toned liquid makeup onto his hands, rubbed it together, and began applying it to his forehead. His more siginificant features were hidden by the darkness, as he grinned to himself, and began to hum a rather disturbing rendition of 'Singing In The Rain' to himself.

Suddenly, he paused, noticing something. His hands were quivering in excitement. The grin seemed to spread even wider across his face, as he stared at himself in the mirror, and began to make bizarre faces. Licking his lips, letting his tongue slide across his teeth, stretching his ears... anything to amuse himself, to pass the time, as his features became even more distorted between the cracked glass. The truth was, as excited as he was at the moment, it would be nothing compared to when he arrived. All of this madness... this terror, he had inflicted upon the city in these recent hours were all apart of a silent labor of respect for the only other man to get the absurdity of their existence. And tonight, that labor would reach it's absolute pinnacle, if the evening climaxed the way it was intended to.

It was as if preparing for a play. A blood spilling, gut wrenching play of chaos. And that is what the entire carnival would become, by dawn. With a pointy eared corpse staked at the center, smiling wide and smiling grand, coated in blood and washed in failure. That's the future that The Joker saw for Gotham City's greatest protector. Neverending, unrelenting failure after failure. One by one, the Bat's spirit would break, and The Joker would be there... laughing. Just laughing, until the end of time.

Finishing with the makeup, The Joker stared at himself, breathing heavily to ignore his rabid pulse. He felt as if he were in his prime, just waiting to add twice the amount to his bodycount list. Being cooped up in a cell for four weeks with nothing but scraps of food and a few ugly judging glances toward you by hypocritical officers of the so-called law and order made you want to just go wild, and commit a massacre. But those inhibitions had to wait. The Joker was sticking on the dot to tonight's act.

It was just too good for words.

"What are you smiling at, little boy?", He asked himself, in a whisper, before making his voice seem weaker and more frail than it really was. "Oh, please, mommy. I was just having some fun."

The Joker turned, as if he were another person. "I hate it when you smile like that, young man. You're always so mischievous. Whenever you smile like that, you've usually done something terrible. Now what was it?"

His head cocked to the opposite right, as if he were pleading. "Please, mommy, oh please. I did nothing wrong."

Turning to the left once more, his neck was proportioned in such a way that he seemed to tower over someone that wasn't there. "And why do you lie to your mother?! You always lie! Why are you such a bad little boy?! I hate it when you lie! You shouldn't lie to your mother!"

The Joker leaped from the stool, and landed on his knees, clasping his hands together and looking up at someone that wasn't there. "Mommy, I'm telling you the truth! I'm a good little boy! I've done nothing wrong! Please don't hurt me, mommy! Oh, please don't! I love-"

Then, a loud slap hit The Joker across the face. The force of it sent him back, slamming and sliding across the wet grass beneath him, within the tent. But the slap hadn't come from some external being that was facing him, somewhere from within the establishment. Instead, the slap had come from The Joker's own hand. He had assaulted himself.

"A good... little boy..."

Another slap. The Joker went down even harder. And the smile became even wider.

"Good. Little. B-"

The Joker's mind reeled, as he was pulled from his strange act by the loud ring of a cellphone in his pocket. It wasn't his, of course... he didn't really have anyone to call. Or at least, anyone that wanted to talk to him. The phone was actually Commissioner Loeb's, which he had taken from her person, along with all clothing and valubles. Going over to the mirror, The Joker grabbed his mask, and gently caressed it over his exposed face. His excited shaking stopped, the minute it was adjusted.

Looking to his long overcoat, which was draped upon a large costume trunk at the other side of the room, The Joker approached it, and violently snatched the phone out. The number he read was unrecognized. With a chuckle to himself, he calmly pulled it open, and put it to his ear.

"Sorry, I'm afraid Miss Loeb isn't availible right now, random caller. But if you'd like to leave a message for her, you can do so after the sound of the scream."

Then, The Joker inhaled, before holding the phone infront of his face.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

With accompanying vicious laughter, The Joker held the phone back to his ear, expecting the caller to have hung up. Instead, he simply heard a pause in it's breathing, before a familiar voice creeped out from the silence on the other end of the line.

"Are you quite finished?"

The Joker sat up straight, almost as if surprised.

"HARVEY! Harvey Dent! My god, man, it's been ages! How've you been, this long month? Still picking the scabs?"

"Don't call me Dent. And I'm pretty damn agitated, actually, in no thanks to you."

"Wh... Well, I never! Not even a simple call while I was away, and this is how you greet me. And I was going to send flowers..."

"For godsakes, would you cut that out? I'm being serious, here."

The Joker threw a leg over his thigh, continuing to converse. "Oh, that doesn't sound good at all. We'll have to fix that."

"Maybe later. Now why in the hell didn't you tell me you were going to kidnap Loeb?"

"What? I didn't?", The Joker asked, with a grin. "Why, I could've sworn..."

"I'm sure you could've. What are you planning to do to her, Joker?"

"Let me ask you something, Harv. What better use does a symbol of authority serve to me, in this town?", The madman asked. "Why, to bait the big one, of course."

Dent's tone seemed to slip, as he replied.

"Batman? You mean he's still... why am I not surprised? It seems like everything you do has something to do with him."

The Joker cackled, amused by that statement. "Oh, you have nooo idea."

"And when you've killed him, you'll have no use of Loeb, I'm guessing?"

"Kill him? Who said anything about killing him?", He asked, straight faced. "And to answer your question, yes, I plan to very much be done with the dear Commissioner by the end of my little scheme."

"Then I want her. I want her delivered to me immediately following whatever you need her for."

The Joker kicked his feet high, trying his best to fight the urge to laugh. And failing.

"HAHAHA! Oh, that's rich! That's hysterical! HAHAHA! The half-baked District Attorney and the corrupt commander of the boys in blue! Oh, Jesus! HAHAHAHAHA!"

"You listen to me, you half assed amateur. I don't want the Commissioner for... whatever your sick mind is insinuating. I need her because she represents everything I'm trying to uphold in Gotham. Order. Ethics. Justice. Everything that Dent believed in, skewered away by the corruption that rots this city's soul. She's the perfect embodiment of that, and I can use it."

The Joker wiped away a tear from the eyehole of his jester's mask.

"Oh, my sides,", He whispered. "Alright, alright. If it means so much, I'll humor you. I should be done with Belfry Boy by tommorow night, and then..."

"Understood. We can meet at the Docks. Crate number two hundred and twelve."

Oh, that was just too laughable, he thought to himself.

"See you there, Harvey Tardy.", The Joker gleefully responded. "Oh, and bring some disinfectants, would you? I don't know where you and that mug of your's have been!"

The Joker paused, before looking at the phone.

"Harvey? Harv? Hello? Hell-"

Shrugging to himself, as the line went dead, The Joker tossed the phone back and turned around, facing the mirror once more. The image of his harlequin mask in the cracked mirror gave off a haunting visage, one of which the Clown Prince genuinely seemed to enjoy. The Joker slowly lifted his mask, as he revealed his face: It was literally covered in so much makeup that his true features were unnoticeable. One side was white, while the other side was black. An intentional mimicking of Two-Face.

With a sad look on his face, The Joker turned the white portion towards the mirror, staring at it.

"I want 'justice'!", He meekly shouted, before turning to the blackened side. "I want 'order'!"

The Joker cackled, slipping the mask back over his face.

"What a joke!", He exclaimed, before turning around.

On the opposite side of the tent, a horrified Jillian Loeb stared at her captor, trying to make sense of everything he had just done. She couldn't. The man was utterly, completely insane, and she would surely die soon if she weren't taken away from him. The Joker seemed to fixate back on her, as he leaned forward, grabbed her restraints, and tightened them.

A single tear rolled down her face, as she seemed excruciated by the pain of her tightened binds and gag. The Joker sighed to himself, happily, before leaning back on the stoll, his eyes locked onto her every move for a moment in silence. Then, he finally said something that absolutely horrified the disgrunted Police Commissioner.

"Now, what can you and I do to pass a little time?"

As The Joker began to hum again, it was drowned out by the sole sound of Loeb's muffled screams.

 

[Andy C.]

Warrior Woman is quick to go on the attack, speeding towards me with her arm cocked back to land an elbow strike to my throat. I duck the blow, spinning to one side and using a gauntlet to deflect her true attack--a knee to the kidneys--before using my momentum to throw out a sweeping kick. She leaps over my counter, flipping over me, then staying aloft to try and land a backflip-kick to my head. I block that as well, then launch myself into the air, grabbing hold of an attempted punch and hurling her skyward.

Move for move, blow for blow, I bring the fight to my other-worldly counterpart. The ground quakes with each thunderous blow, shockwaves rippling through the air as we corkscrew around each other, exchanging attacks and fend off each counter. Warrior Woman truly lives up to her name, her form that of an artist--each move a potential killing blow were I even slightly less skilled than I am.

As it is, I'm able to hold my own, and every second she spends trying to kill me is more time the survivors have to get away from here.

"So it is true what Gaea tells me; I do have an impostor from another world running about," she sneers, a glint of excitement in her eyes like she had found a new toy. "You don't know how long it's been since I've had a fight that was worth my time."

She comes at me again, whirling about for a spinning kick. I grab her by the leg and fling her away.

"What is the point of this? You and your compatriots have laid a whole world to waste, and even when you've won, you hunt the dying culture to extinction. All this endless war and death, and what's the purpose of it?"

We lock up into a grapple, stifling each other's ability to strike, until she gets an opening and swats me down with a hard back-hand.

As I tumble down through the clouds, she follows, driving her knee into my back, trying to force me back to the ground.

"War is its own purpose, naive little girl. The strong made stronger by preying on the weak, the addiction to crushing your foes underfoot. You would know of these things yourself had you fulfilled Ares' designs, instead of taking up the ridiculous mantle of 'Wonder Woman.' You should have seen the look on Hippolyta's face when I spat on that lineage, and then strangled the life out of her."

We hit, and stars explode in my eyes as my senses reel from the pain. It's only when I try to breathe that I realize I'd been driven head-first into the bedrock.

I begin to pull myself up, only to have Warrior Woman yank me out by a fistful of my hair. She punches me back to the ground before I can get my defenses up, then pins me down, her forearm crushing against my throat.

"You had best come up with something good now, impostor. I'm getting bored."

Warrior Woman increases the pressure, starting to close my windpipe. She's right in one respect--I'd better come up with something, and fast.

I wrench a hand free, and grab onto her arm, pulling it back just enough to rock slightly forward. With her off-balance, I'm able to roll back, planting both of my legs into her abdomen, and throw her off as hard as I can.

My opposite goes nearly a whole kilometer before she stops--not from regaining control of her flight, but from slamming into a row of derelict buildings back in the ruined city.

The upper floors of the skeletonized tower buckle and bury her in a heap of rubble. As I fly back towards her, I see the heap collapse downward ever more.

Warrior Woman's broken free, but rather than burst upward, she's burrowing down through the building itself, escaping from me without leaving a clue as to where she is now.

I slow down, and for the first time in a long time, man-made skyscrapers seem towering and ominous. Within seconds, Warrior Woman could come at me from nearly any angle, with no indication as to where.

I steel my nerves, and bring my gauntlets up for whatever attack might come.

The hunt is on. But who is the hunter, and who is the prey, remains to be seen.

 

[Byrd Man]

Ultimate

"What is this ****?!" Jimmy "Body Bags" Kofka says in his thick Russian accent. Kofka is ex-KGB and Russian Mob, about five years ago he left his comrades in Moscow and started playing for Intergang, the big man in Metropolis put him in charge of Star City.

He holds a copy of the Star Sentinel. Front page news has a grainy picture of a figure standing on a rooftop. That picture just so happens to be me. The headline is a work of beauty.

Modern Day Robin Hood: Mysterious Green Arrow Fights Corruption In Star

"Whoever this bastard is. I do not like him!" Bags says as he tosses the paper to the ground and spits on it. His four man armed entourage look on nervously as they sit in his swanky penthouse.

"He hits my operations. This past week alone, he captures six of my men. Costs me half a million dollars easy! I want him dead! I do not care who I have to hire. Lawton, McCullough, even Wilson! I will pay thier outrageous fees if it means I will have this son of a ***** dead!"

I hear all this from across the penthouse. I've got an ear piece wedged in my ear and a small listening device pointed towards the penthouse. The listening device is bright red and has yellow flames down it. I got it in the toy department at work, with my employee discount it only cost me ten bucks.

Ahh, the joys of being a superhero on a budget.

I put the listening back in one of the pouches on my belt and pull out my bow, pulling an arrow out of my quiver with a long nylon cord on the end.

THUNK!

The metal arrowhead digs into the side of the building, I grab the end of the nylon cord and and wrap it around a steam pipe on the rooftop.

I pull another arrow out of my quiver, this one has a round end with black goo attatched to it.

SPLAT!

The arrow sticks to the window on Kofka's penthouse, catching the attention of Bags and his armed thungs.

"What the ****?" One of them mutters as we walks towards the window.

He starts to back up when he notices the flashing red light on the end of the arrow.

BOOM!

The glass window shatters as the arrow explodes. I move quickly, attatching to the nylon cord and sliding down the rope towards the penthouse, my goggles glowing eeriely in the night.

The explosion knocked Kofka and his men off their feet, I take advantage of it as I slide into the penthouse from the zip line unnoticed.

"What the **** was that?" One of the thugs says as he stumbles up.

"That was me."

THWIP!

I shoot an arrow with a blunt end at the thug, the arrow connects with his nose and it makes a sickening crack as he crumples to the floor.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

The rest of Kofka's men open up fire as they get their bearings.

My combat boots thud heavily against the penthouse's marble floor as I race behind a counter to avoid being turned into a holy Green Arrow.

"Come on out, you pig. You cannot kill us."

"I know, you commie bastard." I say as I pull out an arrow with a small round tip.

I slide my goggles down over my face and pop up from behind the counter, the arrow strung and ready to fire.

Bright light and a high pitch wail fills the air as the flash-bang on the end of the arrow goes off and blinds the men.

I move almost to quick for a 40-year old man, as I take down the three remaining armed guards, leaving just me and Kofka.

"YOU ARE DEAD MAN!" He screams as he rubs his eyes and stumbles around.

"You hear me?! I work for Intergang! Your whole family will be dead, I will burn down your house and piss on the ashes, YOU ARE-"

WHAM!

Kofka falls hard to the ground as another one of my blunt arrows cracks him in the forehead.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it."

Police sirens are wailing in the distance, I put my bow back in place and attatch myself back to my zip-line and zip out of the penthouse.

Everything Ruskie Roger just said could be true, Intergang is something you don't mess with, but I knew that before I came here tonight. Regardless, I'm ready to do what I have to do.

I'm ready for war.


​

 

[Eddie Brock]

CATWOMAN

"Selina!"

I cringe as I hear the voice of my landlord, Mr. Dubrovna, behind me. Freezing in place, I clutch tightly to the groceries in my arms. I hear his labored breathing approaching as he ascends the staircase to meet me.

Sighing, he announces, "You still owe me for last month's rent, and this month is coming up." He takes a quick peek at my body. He thinks that I don't see. I do. "When am I going to get my money?" Mr. Dubrovna asks exasperatedly.

Biting my lip, I reply, "I don't know what to tell you, Mr. Dubrovna. Times have been tough." That's not entirely untrue. I look away from him as I explain, "I've been doing my best to come up with some cash." That's not untrue, either. I've been coming up with plenty of cash, actually. I just have a nasty habit for spending it.

"You have no money for rent, but you can afford a new pearl necklace?" Mr. Dubrovna inquires suspiciously, motioning to my newest acquisition. In truth, I think he was only looking for an excuse to look below my neck. Even still, he arches his eyebrow and waits for a suitable response.

Running my fingers along the pearls, I announce, "Oh, this? It was a gift. Honest." A gift from Lew Moxon, that is. I reach out and touch Mr. Dubrovna's arm gently. It disgusts me greatly, but only a knowing smirk can be seen on my face. "I would be so grateful if you would just give me one more chance..."

Mr. Dubrovna turns a faint shade of red. "Well..."

"Oh, thank you, sir," I call out over-emotionally. I insert my key into my apartment door's lock as I glance over my shoulder at Mr. Dubrovna. "I wish I knew how I could ever repay you." And with one last glimmer in my eye, I open the door, slip in, and close it. I watch closely through the peephole as Mr. Dubrovna struts away, sickeningly proud of himself.

Once he's gone, I lean against the door and exhale victoriously.
​

 

[Catman_prb]

Origins of Sinestro

The dig was long and hard. It had been many months since it had started, but they had finally made progress. The ancient ship had been partially uncovered. It was many miles under the surface of the ice cap, and advanced drills had been made just to get to the hull. But now they had found a door. After a full day of planning, a team of explorers prepared to enter the depths.

"Captain Sinestro?"

"Yes Moya?"

"You seem...distracted sir,"

"I was just looking at the crater...it's huge,"

"Yes sir. I can't imagine how long ago the ship must have crashed,"

"Cut the 'sir', Moya. It's just Sinestro today," the pink skinned captain said with a smile. Moya laughed a little.

"Okay si- Sinestro," she said.

The rest of the team assembled in various cold waether uniforms. They attached rappel clips to the edge of the hole, and made the last checks of their equipment. With a sharp nod from their captain, they began the descent into the abyss.