Fear appeared in the Dark Knight's eyes and he threw yet another. The killer sighed and then dispatched this one as well. It blew up in his face and he found himself lit in flames, screaming as he tried to douse them upon the metal floor. The false facade of terror faded from the Caped Crusader's face and he growled, "No."
A pole lay on the ground covered with rust, this he weilded now to smash into the side of the terminator causing him to reel and fall to his knees. He swung again but Deathstroke blocked the blow with his sword, the blade cutting deep into the metal with a blow that made both fuse together. Neither could pull their weopen apart. The Batman smiled, "It appears that we are both at an impasse."
"I think not," was Deathstroke's reply, and he leapt up and slammed his foot into the man's chest, knocking him through the door and against a wall.
" I've never been the type to curl up and die, Batman," said the killer, and in the darkness that surrounded them Deathstroke could feel the chill that lingered there. The chill of the inevitabele battle in which only one outcome could result, that of death, that of the Dark Knight. "Its a pity you know," said Deathstroke nonchalantly, "That I shall never truly have any form of opinion of you. You simply dont matter. Despite your known skill at various forms of martial arts I will never engage you in the fight of my life because I know you will never take it. You're too noble for that sort of thing, and because of that I dont know if I can ever respect you."
"More's the pity," said the Batman, and in that moment man and darkness merged as one and Deathstroke could see nothing. "Yet the feeling is mutual."
Ultra sensors fitted into his mask immediately came on. He looked about him anxiously, searching for those night images of the Batman. He saw nothing. He clutched a blade's handle tightly as he slowly removed it from his pouch and thought quickly, and then the killler began to grin as an idea began to form within that cunning brain.
Upon the rafters again the Batman simply watched his prey down there upon the ground, and his fingers swiftly took a batarang from his pouch and held it expertly, awaiting that moment in which he would hurl it at the killer and be done with him. The batarrang was cold to the touch, but with jagged edges that would shut down Deathstroke's nerve system once it punctured skin. This was a special thing, that was designed to disentigrate once it entered a quarter inch of skin so it would avoid gutting Deathstroke like a chicken on the chopping block, and would dissolve within his body. Batman was quite proud of this thing, he knew it would work because he had already used it on the Joker, however he had to be sure he could throw it properly without causing extreme damage. Accuracy was everything.
On the ground Deathstroke remained calm, eyes searching for that room where he had heard the sound before, that of weeping. If he could only find it again, he could find the means with which to hold the Dark Knight at bay. As it was he had to rely on his heightened senses to avoid sneak attacks until then.
He crept down the hall, moving with a quietness that would shame rats and looking around finally heard it. The sound of weeping. He grinned wolfishly and touched the handle to the door. Locked. He considered breaking it and then saw that the door was of a very high grade of steel that would be all too unwilling to bend to him even after he had broken every bone in his wrist punching it. He then knew he would have to pick it, and that would make him a sitting duck for the sneak attacks of the bat. Darn.
The criminal took out a knife and the batman smiled. The assassin was playing right into his hands. He held out the battarang, prepared for the flick of the wrist as he hurled it into Deathstroke's skull. Then he paused. What was the criminal doing? Then he heard it. The sound of children crying was beginning to penetrate the door. He saw then that this sound had come through the lock of the door that Deathstroke had so quickly picked, and that he had to act quickly if he wished to dispatch the assassin before any harm was done.
He threw the battarang.
In the darkness the killer could feel something spiralling deadly as it flew through the air, and his nerves tightened as he prepared to dodge it. He felt it before he heard it, a chill coming down his spine as he knew there was danger. Then he stretched out a hand at the last minute and caught it.
The Batman nearly swore.
"Heh." Deathstroke grinned. "I know where yore hidin' ... buddy."
He slashed the lock on the door with the battarang with a vicious speed, and the lock broke in half as the killer threw the door open and smiled upon the bound children there, all in tears save one, a boy of thirteen who could not even speak for is mouth was gagged. "Hel'lo,kids," said the assassin, "Lend a guy a hand?"
The Batman leapt down from the rafters, eyes slanted, face grim, his cape unfurled like the wings of a creature of the night. He landed upon the ground and growled at the criminal who held shards of the battarang to the throat of the only boy who did not cry. The criminal laughed and said, "It appears that we are both at an impasse."
The Dark Knight said nothing.
"Now this is what you're going to do," said Deathstroke, "There is a window at the end of the hall, you're going to go through it and not come back for half an hour. By then I'll be long gone."
"And if I dont?" the Dark Knight responded.
"Oh please," said Deathstroke. "I'm EVIL. Bad. Wicked. I'll gut this guy like a fish. Excuse me for a minute while I laugh maniacally and hug myself in sinister delight at being so nasty. BWAHAHAHA!!!!"
"And I should care about the boy, because..." said Batman.
"Because his death will be on your hands," Deathstroke repsonded.
"My hands? You're the one whose intending to kill him."
"True," said Deathstroke nonchalantly, "But you're the one whose going to feel bad about it."
"Yet if you kill the child when I refuse to leave you'll lose your advantage," said Batman. "And I know something you dont know."
He struck the boy, knocking him out of the killer's hands and pushed him away as Deathstroke tackled Batman, pummelingh him viciously with a strength that had grown due to military experiments years ago. "Damn you, you masked vigilante!" snarled Deathstroke. "I can see where Nightwing's gotten his intuition from. Your kind took my son from me, hounded me continually, and damaged my reputation. The most dangerous assasin in the world and yet I'm constantly thwarted by children!"
"In case you haven't noticed, I am no child, Deathstroke." said Batman, and he flipped the assassin off of him. "Yet apparently all you can do is resort to threatening them when actually facing an adult. I'm well aware of the hell you've put Nightwing and the rest of the Titans through, and I intend for it to end. Now."
Then Deathstroke felt a searing heat upon his chest. Sweat trickled down his face as he saw what it was, yet another batarang that was fastened to his chest and glowing red as it burned through the fabric of his uniform and blackened his skin. He screamed and reeled. This opponent had no conception of the term fair play.
The Batman struck him again and again while the killer rolled in agony, amazed that still Deathstroke could stand despite the barrage. Physically the assassin had the edge. No amount off training Batman knew could suffice for the procedures that had forever altered Deathstroke's mind and body. Yet craftiness had always been the asset of this caped crusader, and it was paying off.
Bam! Blood trickled down Deathstroke's chin. Swakt! He fell to his knees, clutching at the device that simply would not come off. How Batman would pay for this! He would send him Nightwing's decaptitated body to Gotham's Police Station with a card saying, 'Happy Holidays' next Christmas. Whicft!!! If that wasnt a concussion in the making, Deathstroke didnt know what it was. With an anguished scream he tore of his shirt, grimacing at the burned flesh which festered in the night air. He jumped up and fled, with the Batman right behind him with thoughts of escape in his mind.
He'd kill the Dark Knight some other time when he was more prepared for him. He almost wished that Batman would actually try and kill him, that would probably be better than this. Stupid costumed do gooders. They always did good for everybody but the criminal. And according to Deathstroke good and evil was relative. Now to escape. How? He saw the boy he had threatened lying upon the ground, unable to move due to the painful way the criminal slave ring had tied him earlier. Deathstroke seized the opportunity to grab him. He lifted the boy above his head and glanced towards the window. This was his chance.
The glass exploded into a million shards as he threw the boy through it, hurtling through the air towards the ground thirty stories below. Without a second thought the Batman leapt out the window afte him. Deathstroke smiled, but it quickly faded as now he could fully acknowledge the searing pain and swore. "Some other time, Batman!" he shouted. "Some other time!"
The Senate:
General Beck, one of the top five most powerful men in America stood before the Houses with a smile that verged on a satanic leer or a look which said, "I'm actually rather insulted by having to lower myself to talk to you idiots, and I'd rather not be here." The fat which hung upon his face and hands had successfully hidden any traces of that once finely toned body of a man who had at one time killed fifty people single handed back in Vietnam, and who came from a lineage of war heroes renowned in history books and cereal boxes. There still was power in those pudgy fingers, yet his large frame had of late been failing. His doughy appearance from a distance made him look soft, as an overgrown Santa looking for a few cookies, but everyone who knew him knew you'd have to be an idiot to believe that for long.
The man was dangerous. He had many political enemies yet not one of them would have said that in public. The press didnt bother to write editorials against him, it was rumoured that just as Nixon had a hit list during his time as president, so did Beck. You just didnt mess with him if you valued your head on your shoulders. It wasn't healthy.
Now he spoke and his voice seemed to practically gurgle as he said, "Delegates of the Senate," and he felt a minute thrill as he knew every thought and gaze of every person in that building know rested upon him. "We have a situation here."
A screen had been set up earlier and now it was up and running, the pictures of various individuals were shown and with their pictures was a small bio, no more than a few lines, but designed to tell what exactly they did. They were all different, and yet in a way they were all the same. Some were tall, short, large, thin, different races, genders, etc. Yet that one similarity was the reason for which General Beck stood here now adressing a bunch of people that he considered to be imbeciles. They, those in the bios, were all super powered. The weakest of them could have ripped apart an amoured truck, and the most powerful could have withstood the barrages of the combined power of the world's forces and not batted an eye.
Beck grunted and cleared his throat. "Look at 'em."
"What are we looking at, General?" a senator questioned.
" Bums. Super bums the whole lot of 'em. They live among us, breath our air, go to our schools, and we can never tell who they are."
"Your point?" said the senator.
"My point is there's too many of them," said the General. "Just last week some guy in Montana ripped through a bank and killed four officers before another superbum came by and stopped him. Last Monday, there was a riot and a band of ultra powerful idiots in Las Vegas burned down a casino. A swat team came by to stop 'em and today they're pushing up daisies. A lot more would have died but another hero came by and stoped them. Recently two groups of 'heroes' nearly destroyed a wax works building in Gotham (3). One a group that called themselves the Fearsome Five, another, a renegade team known as the Outsiders nearly destroyed the entire area and had matters gotten out of hands, civilian life could have been lost. Do you grasp what I'm trying to tell you?"
The senator smiled. "Note that for every example of a hostile super criminal there has been a hero to stop 'em. They're obviousely not all bad, General."
" That's not what I'm saying," growled Beck. "The fact is that it took a super goon to stop a super goon. The police lacked the power to do so. The so called Teen Titans are able to take six swat teams. They're only children! What do you think they'll do when they're older? Take down twelve? Or upon a temper tantrum wipe out a city block or two? How about the Batman? He's considered by some to be only human but only recently its rumoured that he broke into the white house for various reasons. What's to stop him from breaking into the Pentagon and stealing military secrets? And we all know of that recent spectacle with the Ultra Humanite! If memory serves correctly (and mine never fails) he threatened to kill every man, woman, and child on the globe and had not the JSA intervened who knows what catastrophes would have been unleashed?" (1)
" But they weren't," said the senator. "And if your suggesting that we arrest every single super powered being on the planet than you mioght as well be asking for world war three. The ones that fight for justice might do submit to arrest or they might be outraged and turn against us. The ones who are already against us on the other hand wont think twice before they attack us. Then what, General? Loss of cities, economies, life? Who will protect us if our protectors are incarcerated."
"We will!" the General shouted. "About those 'loyal' guys with power. All those do gooders who say they'd die for the nation. Let 'em prove it! There is a pattern to these people. They have certain Achilles heels and we must exploit them if the safety of our great country is to be ensured. I propose that we send out a letter to every registered super goon in the nation, commanding them to fill out a statement of loyalty and giving in depth report on their powers and what can make them fold like a beach chair in the case that they go rogue. Yet in order to avoid falsehoods they will be scanned at government facilities where they fill out these forms. Scanned to see if they lie. If they do we'll lock 'em up. If we can't lock them up then we'll call in the 'heroes' who have sworn loyalty and passed our tests to take care of these people. Understand? Who can protect us if we can't protect ourselves?!"
The senator was silent.
"Got nothin' to say, Senator? I'm not surprised."
Hours later at the Senate:
The general passed through the door with a sickening grin upon his face, brushing past reporters and camera men, avoiding their questions without even the courtesy of a "Not now." An anchorwoman for WGBS the world's largest media station came up to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He whirled around annoyed and said, "Who the he..."
"General Beck,"said the red haired woman thrusting a microphone into his face,"What is the stance of the Senate concerning the new Super Powers Ammendmant at this time?"
"Miss Lang," the general grinned. "Well I guess this is as good a time as any to say that as of the thirty first of June every man, woman, and child that resides in the Land o' the Free and the Home o' the Brave will have to have filled out federal papers indicating their loyalty to the US to help us normal folks, and if they don't do that they shall and will be removed and placed within government facilities until the due time in which they shall be taught the errors of their ways."
"Doesn't that violate their rights, though?" asked Miss Lang.
"My dear red head, you look awful purty when yer stupid. The government does not violate the rights of the common man it supports 'em. When the uncommon man tries however to cause trouble for the peacable folks then the uncommon man loses his rights. That's all I'll say for now. Good day."
She watched him saunter off and her eyes flashed angrily, an expletive came in to mind that she nearly uttered before remembering that she was on the air. Slightly visibly peeved, she said, "Well you've heard it from the ass...BRASS...folks. And just what does the president have to say about all this? Well we'll find out soon enough, but until then this is Lana Lang singing off for WGBS."
Turning away from the cameras she nearly snarled to her fellow reporter, "He gets to me, that man really gets to me. I'd love to strangle that man, and I'd bet Edge would pay top dollar to get that covered... on pay per view!"
"Now, Lana, I know that you feel very bitter towards the man, but dont let him drag to his level," the man replied.
"That's the dumbest thing I've heard all day," Lana growled. "If I were Lois the man would have a fat lip to go along with that big frame of his."
" Considering his health," said her associate, "Noone would notice."
"I guess not, handsome," she kissed him on the cheek," Well I'll see you around. I'm going to try to hnt down Superman to see what HE has to say about all this."
She walked off as her friend looked on, a grin upon those dark features as he adjusted the large spectacles upon his face. Another glance and then he strolled off, whistling quietly as Clark Kent pondered the event that had just taken place.
Arkham Asylum:
The television's hum was all that sounded within the darkness of the gaurd's room. Hank Jones would have rather been at home soaking his feet and then in bed with his wife rather then being wwatchman over some of the most dangerous maniacs this world knew at this hour of the night. As it was all he could do was eat donuts and watch t.v. hoping that if he concentrated hard enough he could block out the sounds of the inmates as they threatened each other and argued amongst themselves. He was underpaid and unappreciated, and was pretty sure that he was risking his life every day when he catered to every need.
The fight going on the television was between two heavy weights, yet his mind was not at ease watching the program knowing that 75 percent of the jail's inhabitants could annihilate the two fighters, and ten percent of the aforementioned 75 were too powerful to care. He got up when he heard a sound and looked down the hall. Some one was messing around down there when the lights were supposed to be out. He got up and left the office, slightly trembling as he imitated a saunter, trying his best not to look vulnerable.
"Hello, coppy, wanna hear a joke?"
He looked to his right and saw the Joker looking as hideous as ever. Giving him a forlorn glance as he clutched pitifully at the bars. The cop gave him a severe look that screamed, "NO," and the Joker shuffled off into the corner where darkness hid him from the officer's gaze. "Jeez...." the Joker muttered, "No sense of humor at all."
The sound was louder now, so Jones continued to walk in the direction slightly less frightened as before. What could it be? A sound was uttered in the cell next to him and he turned his head.
"Hey, handsome."
She smiled and her green skin seemed to glow within the dark surroundings of her cell. Poison Ivy. She was one of the most beautiful things Jones had ever seen and yet the most deadliest possibly of all who were confined within these walls. As far as kissing goes anyway. She beckoned to Jones and for a moment he stepped forward, a grin spreading across his features before he stepped back, appalled with himself. He was married.
"I'm lonely," she whispered seductively, and she shook her voluptuos hips rythmically as she said this. "And oh so cold."
Sweat trickled down Jones' face. She was tall, very tall, almost six feet. Her full red lips beckoned to him and she smiled. She was covered with green foliage which rustled as she shook. She was as curved as...as... a cucumber. She uttered, "I can give you what every plant needs to grow. Lots n' lots of attention."
He reached out his hand towards her for a moment, his finger quivering as it stretched forward slowly towards that deep emerald skin. His mind went rampant with various, dark, dirty things and he began to grin, and then...
Nelly.
He stopped. His wife. He loved her dearly, he wouldn't hurt her for anything. He'd cut off his arm for her. Only two weeks since they had a child, she was waiting for him right now, awake as she always was when he got home. Doubtless she had dinner waiting for him, and a sweet nothing written upon a note by his plate for him when he came through the door. If he betrayed his sweet darling it would kille her. He tore himself away from the cell and grit his teeth.
He couldnt do this and yet that woman had assets in far greater supply than his wife. And she was luring him. He could feel her pull, and thought of why she was deadly.
She had power, power that was given to her by men because they wanted her. Power that had enabled her to kill men and destroy lives. She only had power over him if he gave it to her, could he bring himself to do that?
She stretched out her fingers for him, slender things they were with a scent of aloe that began to fill his nostrils as those red lips puckered together and she blew him a kiss that made senses go wild. "Dont run away," she said, "Stay here, with me," Jones smelt the smell of something that made him burn with lust for the woman. A pheromone that made him practically swoon for Ivy.
The sound that had made Prison Guard Hank Jones come down originally was unnoticed by him. He was wild now and thoughts of Nelly faded from his mind. He reached for the woman who smiled, "Please,"those red lips puckered,"Be gentle."
He reached out and she did likewise, but then he paused as he realised what he was doing. A pause in which she reached for him and grabbed his arm.
He yanked but she held on tight, moving to kiss him. The venom in her lips was deadly, on skin contact it would flow through the body shutting down the nervous system and organs as it diluted blood cells causing the brain to go into shock. The heart would then shut down and he'd die. This he knew.
Wham! He struck her. He didn't mean too but self preservation stepped in and he hit her.
She cried out and any hold she had on him before was broken. He staggered backward, ignoring her sobs. What in tarnation had he done? He was like a drunken man reeling forward down the hall, only now hearing the laughter of the other criminals as he moved towards an exit. The job was too much, he needed to quit. He heard a sound and turned his head, then staggered as he nearly fainted.
The psychiatric ward was open and a cell was empty. What was this? He ran forwardand looked up at the cell's title, 'Psycho Pirate' and his fingers moved with a mind of their own for the gun holstered at his side. The man was dangerous, an insane killer who had been incarcerated there for some time ever since some costumed heroes (he couldn't remember their names, he never cared what those people did as long as they didn't bother him) brought in the man. He had been foaming at the mouth then, mumblling something or other about some type of Monitor. He still had no idea what the man was babbling about, yet he knew that if he didn't have him soon then he'd be in for a world of hurt with his superiors.
He moved for the alarm situated on the desk next to the room and then paused as his eyes took in the sight of another guard lying prostrate upon the ground, his head crushed like a soda can when you step on it, and blood gushing out of it. The eyes of the man on the floor rolled around slightly and tried to cry out, but his punctured throat prevented anything from truly coming out. Those dull eyes looked up at Prison Guard Hank Jones and then glazed over. A hideous way for any man to die.
Jones bent down and peered closely at the wounds upon the man's neck.
They had been caused by fingers of some creature with a tremendous amount of strength. They had torn through the man's juggular and then flung him against a wall which he struck with his head, hence the caved in look. There were precious few people incarcerated here who could do that, and Psycho Pirate wasn't one of them. The names of a few beings popped into heed. What juggernaut would be in Gotham? Croc? Clayface? The Human Blockbuster? He pulled out his gun from his holster and looked around, hoping to God he wouldn't have to use it.
The lights went out. Oh cripes, it was dark in here. Jones began to tremble as he crept down the dark corridor hoping against hope that whatever had been here was long gone by now. The aforementioned suspects were all present and accounted for, all but the Blockbuster who had been rumoured to have left Gotham some months ago. Now if it had been the Blockbuster, the standard handgun wouldn't have been very useful.
That guy seemed to live on bullets. This weopen, however, had several nozzles which could shoot bullets that could stun a rhinocerous, and could handle a special type of artillery that had the impact force of small bombs. Just maybe that would do the trick.
Thwump!
Footsteps that had tried to move silently seemed to have tripped in the hall way.
Judging by the sound, whatever it was, it was large. Again thoughts in Hank Jones' mind turned to several large characters. He lifted a finger slowly to set his weapon to stun and then thought about it. The lights had gone out. If the criminal was intelligent enough to escape his cell, doubtless he would be waiting in the shadows for the guard to come along before he jumped him. He needed backup.
Reaching for his radio he whispered, "Hey Tom? Tom do you read me? I think we have a situation here."
No answer.
"Tom! Goshdarnit I said, do you read me?"
Again there was silence. Then he realised the radio was dead.
"Great," he grumbled. "I am so definitely retiring after this."
Then he remembered the alarm. He was going to push it when he had seen the body and in his shock it slipped his mind. He turned back to press it and then realised his folly. A noise thundered behind him and he whirled around firing bullets with the rapidity of a scared jack rabbit. He gasped.
What he had thought were shadows was a man. Seven feet and one thousand pounds of lumbering mass came from the darkness towards him, a savage power indicated in his presence and by the uncanny growl which rumbled in his throat.
This was a Frankenstein of a kind which Jones had only associated with horror stories and fairy tales; the bad dream of something that could not exist. The thing under your bed, the darkness within that closet as a child that would make you crawl under your covers and pray hard that it wasn't real. That was in fact simply a nightmare. But he could pinch himself and feel that he was awake. He could smell the putrid breath as the creature came towards him, and observe the sickening grin by which it seemed to smile as it walked to him and lifted up a hairy, animal hand.
The guard tried to speak but all he could do was stutter as memories of crying on his mother's lap as he had bad dreams came into mind. About the time when he had been chased by a rabid dog when he was three only to be saved by his father at the last minute, and how stupid he had been to take this job. To allow his mind to be seduced by this Ivy and how he had been such an idiot to not call for back up and instead try and figure out what was going on by himself, and about his wife and child. If he died, oh God who would care for them?
He cocked the muzzle on his gun and screamed.
Bullets hummed as they spun out of the muzzle and thudded into the monster's chest. Bullets that could shatter steel like clay pottery and rip through armored vehicles only splatted against the creature who stared at them stupidly, and then came forward slowly, whispering, "Solomon Grundy crush!"
Jones turned and ran, a rhyme dancing in his head as he fled. Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday, went' courtin' on Tuesday, married on Wednesday� He felt a large grip lock down upon his face and lift him screaming off the ground. It pulled upon his head and he felt the veins in his neck pop as he howled at the agony. The creature seemed to laugh and the guard felt tears stream down his face. If he died, what oh what would happen to his family?
"Grundy!"
The creature turned his head in the direction of the voice, a man whose hair was grey and yet tinged with brown stood there. His clothes were red, a helmet gleamed upon his head in the moonlight, a helmet forged in the like of the helm of Mercury that ancient speedster of the gods. Through the thick fingers of the giant, the guard could see the face of the man, a face with concern written all over it, concern for him, a common man, and despite the danger Hank couldn't help but smile.
The creature on the other hand, did not smile. Instead his fingers dropped heavily the man who crumpled to the floor, and Grundy thundered forward heavily with footsteps that seemed to shake the very foundation upon which the stones that had made this Arkham Asylum were laid. Recognition of this man had sparked within the bestial monstrositie's mind, recognition of a man who had thwarted him so many times before along with another man, one known as...as...the monster couldn't entirely remember.
"Grundy..." the man now was trying to talk things out, trying not to look nervous and unsure of himself in front of a civilian he was trying to protect. "Why don't you calm down now and we'll talk this out, okay? We'll talk it out man to man and avoid a big fiasco that could cause so much unnecessary property damage."
The creature growled and came foward, still thinking, it knew this man to be an enemy but it knew that the man was friends with an even bigger enemy. But who? The face was a blur in the creature's mind. Intelligence had never been one of Solomon Grundy's attributes, but it sure wished it had it now.
While the creature's back was turned Hank ran off, the exit door was nearby and through it he'd run to a getaway car and then to home. Home where he'd stay while Arkham went to hell. Then he stopped. If he didn't stay his home wouldn't be safe for long. What would happen here if that creature won this battle? The wreckage of the fight would almost surely jar some cells open. That would do wonders for any of the criminals here. He had to finally get his act together and ring that stupid alarm.
He went to do so, stopping only to plug his ears in pain when he heard the monster roar as it charged the scarlet stranger. The battle was beginning, and from what he saw from those brief seconds when he turned his head to view what was going on, he saw that whatever powers the scarlet stranger had, tremendous super strength was not one of them. The creature had gripped hard upon the man who spun about quickly, vibrating out of the monster from a magical swamp quickly before darting down the hall, almost daring Grundy to follow him. Of course Grundy did.
"That thing's going to bring this place down on our heads the way he's carrying on," thought the guard. "Now for the alarm."
He moved forward but something jumped him, looking up he saw the Riddler grinning as he bent over him with a hooked dagger that looked like it could do some nasty damage to Hank's entrails if it stabbed him. Hank swung a fist into the man's face, the villain howled and the guard pushed him off and ran down the hall to the headquarters where he pounded the button. Nothing happened. Hank struck it hard in frustration and felt pain course through his hand. Someone had disconnected it.
A loud noise thundered and at first the guard thought it was Grundy, then observing the cameras he saw cell after prison cell open of their own accord as criminals stepped out of them. "Oh cripes, this isn't happening," groaned the officer.
Washington DC-night:
They walked along the edges of the garden, monarch of the oceans and general of the US armies, neither speaking as the moon cast its glance upon them making the Aquaman (as many called him) look chilling to look upon. General Beck scrutinized him closely, wondering if there weren't indeed gills upon that man. Seaweed still clung to the figure and he breathed raspily, longing already to return to the water that gave him life.
Finally Aquaman spoke,"You wished to see me, General?"
Beck grunted before answering, "Yes. I wanted to discuss the matter of super beings with you. Surely you heard the news of the steps this great country is taking so that if any relations with these uberpeople plummet we wont be caught with our pants down?"
The fish-man's eyes darkened, "I am well familiar with that, General. What has this to do with me?"
"I seek an alliance."
Aquaman's eyes widened in slight surprise and for a moment he fought the urge to smile. "What?"
" The people must be protected at all costs from this potential threat and there is noone on this planet who may be better suited to do it than YOU are.
We know fully well of your power, Aquaman. All those liddle fishies that swim down in the deep answer to you. That's pretty useful. You lead a nation, with a population that dwarfs that of China. The United States and its allies could see that as a threat but we choose not too, we'd much rather that you become our ally."
"Atlantis doesn't need vassals," the man smiled. "We have no animosity to your kind when you refrain from polluting our waters with your muck and filth, killing those who are under my domain. However to ask me to shake hands with you upon turning against the most powerful men, women and children on the globe could have catastrophic repercussions for my people. There exist friends and allies among these people, I have many times battled at their sides and would do so again if necessary."
"That's fine," said Beck. "However I want you to think very carefully before refusing.
In the event that we have to take on some very heavy hitters nuclear weapons will be used.
Weapons with a degree of radio-active fallout that you'ld find your waters not as clean as you'd like. And when all those mackarels and minnows come complaining to you, you can either fall over yourself apologizing to them or turn 'em into fillets. Personally I've always liked fried fish."
A fist slammed into Beck's face and he fell to the ground, blood trickling out of his nose as he tried to rise twice before falling to the ground.
Immediately Aquaman was on target of twenty m-16's, as guards surrounded him, eyes darkening as they stepped forward from all parts of the garden. Beck smiled as he was helped to his feet, and put his sleeve to his face, ignoring the permanent red upon it as he said, "Rather touchy about these fishes, aint'cha Aquaman?"
The latter said nothing, only viewing the guards in stotic silence.
"Well that's fine," said the general. "Only I myself don't give about them. They're so darn stupid, with underveloped brains and all that. Of course you don't feel the same as I do, and that's fine. Its always very touching to me when I see that kind of care about any living thing on God's green (and wet) Earth. But the thing is us land folks don't much care for the water except for ecologists and animal rights activists, and heaven knows what short supply those people are in nowadays."
"I shall not abide the bereavement of any of my subjects," Aquaman answered.
"Neither shall I stand for the indignity of being threatened in this manner by another country.
You speak of my domain as a nation, and it is, a nation that the United States and the rest of the United Nations refuse to recognize as a country.
However it hardly matters.
Three quarters of this world is mine, all mine. I allow the rest to fish in my harbours, to battle on my seas, to swim my beaches. However the time for my generosity is fading quickly, and before I say another word your men will lower their trinkets or I will lower them for them."
General Beck laughed, "Now don't get me wrong, pal, the last thing I wanna do is start a war, but you just attacked me on U.S. soil. I am a government official and by that little fiesty act there you just caused a lot more trouble that you can handle. Now why don't you be reasonable and sign a treaty for alliance in the event that the more powerful part of the world's population starts turning on us, and I'll forget the whole thing. Otherwise fishies could be fried."
The other put out his hand and gripped hard the throat of General Beck, lifting him high as the pudgy man sputtered for puffs of air, and as the others started in surprise and cocked their weapons, ordering Arthur to put the general down. "You would threaten the ruler of an empire with the power to raise tsunamais to wipe out cities? You are exceptionally rude, General. I'll thank you to apologize."
"Apologize?" the General gasped as he clutched on that hand that had closed around his throat. "Buddy if you dont put me down I'm gonna blow your ass to hell."
"I think not," said Arthur.
The men put their weapons down.
"Telepathy," Arthur explained. "Never leave home without it. They're not going to do a thing unless I tell them too."
Sweat trickled dow the general's face but he still remained as brazenly cocky as ever.
"Fine. Kill me."
"No," said Arthur. "The last thing I want to do is start a war," and he smiled. "Despite my friendship to these people I shall not get involved unless Atlantian life is threatened," he said as he turned away. "Yet I should warn you, an attack on an ally of mine is..." He turned and his golden hair shown in the moonlight, his square jaw tightened and his eyes that seemed to have the frozen color of the sea in them shown, he put out a hand to a marble statue and let his fingers press through it and leave his finger prints upon it forever, and then he continued, "Is an attack on Atlantis itself."
He moved off, the telepathic command was now no longer in effect and the men who had stood at a distance unable to move a finger now came to the General who was gasping for breath. Pointing a pudgy digit in the direction of Aquaman, he wheezed, "Blow him to Kingdom Come!"
Arthur knew the moment he left the garden that if he did not move he was a dead man. He ran. Faster and faster he went, hearing the cock of muzzles behind him as bullets spudded into the air behind him. He heard them hum their deadly melody as they came closer and hit the deck, letting them rip into the walls of the mansion beside him before leaping to his feet and over a wall onto the sidewalk. He heard Beck shouting, "Get him!" and he ran faster than he had in years, trying to remember where the nearest bay was, knowing that if he could find one he would be safe. Once in the water he was nigh uncatchable.
An armoured vehicle drove by him, men firing machine guns at him with a surprising disregard for civilian life, forcing Arthur to run into an alley wondering what the hell he'd do next. He put a hand to his leg when he felt something warm and saw his skin was nicked. Blood went down his leg and he then felt a jolt of pain as an electric net was thrown over him.
"Gyaarrggghhh!"
It was things like this which made being a water dweller pretty tiresome. Thank God for invulnerability. Its what was keeping him still alive right now and made him mentally make plans for an Invulnerability Appreciation Day once he got out of this mess and back to Atlantis.
Gotham-Arkham Asylum-night:
"They're coming!" the prison guard shrieked. "They're coming!"
"I can see that," the scarlett stranger, otherwise known as Jay Garrick the original Flash, growled.
The prisoners all came forward, some armed crudely, others had broken into the armoury and found guns which they cocked expertly. Jones was sweating buckets at this time, his fingers fumbling to reach his fire arm as he whispered to his companion, "What are we gonna do?"
'Well," said Jay calmly, "The ideas popping into my head pretty much revolve aroundyou having super strength or eye beams or telepathy, and I'm pretty sure you have none of the aforementioned traits. I could of course vibrate through the door and go and get help, but they'd eat you alive while I was gone. I think someone's behind all this."
"No kidding!" screamed the prison guard. Then he paused. "Really?"
"Really," Jay smiled. "Right in the middle of fighting Grundy he up and lumbered off and I figured I better not go after him just yet when I saw what was happening to the jail cells so right now I'm going to have to figure out what went wrong with the controls to the jail door 'cause I couldnt budge 'em shut unless I used super speed and that could hurt my hand. Back in my day we used the good ol' lock and key for crooks. Not electronic 'state of the art' controls."
"That's fascinating," said the guard, "But in case you didn't notice, WE'RE ABOUT TO DIE!"
"Nonsense," said Jay. "We're right next to a door that is fused lock (as all the doors are in this building) but which has two very strong windows. Now all we have to do is smash'em and I can throw them at super speed into all these people and thus kill 'em. "
"THAT'S GREAT!" screamed the guard. "Let's do it then!"
"There's just one problem," said Jay.
"What?" the gaurd couldn't scream this last bit at Jay because now his voice was failing from all the shouting he had been doing earlier.
" I don't kill." Jay grinned.
"YOU DON'T KILL? YOU STUPID, STUPID, MORON! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO BAD!"
"Oh calm down," said Jay. "I'll think of something."
The criminal Deadshot opened fire at them. Jay caught all the bullets and put an arm around Hank's shoulder. "You see?" he said smilling. "We now have something to work with."
"But you don't KILL remember?" said Hank. "Bullets KILL. And if you throw them to only inflict bodily harm the criminals could bleed to death."
"Good point," said Jay. He threw them away.
"CURSE YOU!" screamed the guard. "I CANNOT BELIEVE I WAS SO STUPID AS TO SAY THAT!"
"Now, now, don't get too riled up about this. Now that I look at the situation it isn't so bad," said Jay comfortingly," Just some rowdy company that's all.
You're pretty lucky that I came by when I did. Doc Midnight and Amazing Man had had some trouble with Grundy recently and I was going to search up and make sure the ol' boy still wasn't causin' mischeif. Of course they did tell me some alien fried him with a type of heat vision (2) but since when did THAT stop Grundy in the past, you get my drift?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hank muttered.
"Of course you wouldn't. Now put a hand on my shoulder," said Jay.
"What are you doing?" said Prison Guard Hank as he obeyed.
"Dealin' with the situation of course. What else?"
Faster than the eye could follow, Jay scooped up the man and darted forward, knocking criminals aside like bowling pins as he streaked down the hall and to the other side leaving a trail of sprawling villains in his wake. Dropping Hank to the ground he ran back to the crooks and scooped up the weopens and vibrated out the prison doors with them. One minute later Jay was back empty handed and he grabbed Hank and darted out the door again. Try as the criminals might they could not break through the steel doors.
Jay laughed.
"Look at you, your trembling like I did when my mother made me dance with Bella Lee back at the firstgrade dance sixty two years ago. You doubted me didnt you, O ye of little of faith?"
Hank was gasping on the grass, breathing in the fresh air of the night and thinking of that moon as the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. "T...th...the Psycho Pirate's missing."
"I know," said Jay. "Grundy took him."
"What would someone like Grundy want the Psycho Pirate for?" said the guard wheezing l�uder than ever?
"A better question would be who SENT Grundy to get him?" said Jay, and then shook his head as he saw the man throw up. "Silly young whippersnapper."
elsewhere:
Amid the shadows he watched the screens, smiling as he saw heroes from vast distances come before temples and court houses. All shouting, all protesting as they cried out against the treatment they received at the hands of these government officials.
Police officers tried to calm them but at a distance. In this state the only result would be harm to the cops, not that this particular viewer would have cared.
On another screen he saw the inmates of Arkham railing as they beat against a door, trying to break it down so that they could be free. So they could escape.
Their efforts were futile and once the proper forces arrived in the area the criminals would be once again incarcerated. Jail birds with only longer sentences for their pains at attempting to fly the coop.
On yet another screen guards were seen to be beating at something curled up into a ball. A man known as Aquaman to the nation, know as helpless as a baby due to the tremendous electricity surging through his body making him able to do nothing more than scream.
He smiled. The doors opened and Solomon Grundy lumbered in, Grundy who had been snatched away from battle but a little while ago.
Teleported to serve this man's purposes due to the chip next to Grundy's ear which sent in electronic signals that disrupted brain waves and replaced them with this man's orders.
Grundy opened his hands and dropped the bundle he had been holding, and at the sight of who crawled pitifully out of it, the man in shadows laughed. "Oh Grundy, you wonderful brute. Who said said all brawn and no brain was bad?"
The beast didn't answer, but the man on the floor moaned and picked himself up as he struggled to face the stranger. "Hello, Psycho Pirate," said the man. "I hope you're feeling better. You've been recovering, no?"
The man was a skeleton of what he once was, with skin pulled tight over his face and who opened his mouth to say something only to have a pitiable sob come out. A sob that simply made the stranger laugh as an adult would at the antics of a child, and he beckoned the man to come closer. The Psycho Pirate gave a worried look to Solomon and did so, sweat running down his face as the stranger said,"Now let's talk. Time it is a wasting, as they say, and we have so much to plan for!"
(1) Check out Mick's JSA#5 to get the full story
(2) The events Jay refers to is Alt Dc Presents#1 where Amazing man and Dr. Midnite confront Solomon Grundy
(3) The event Beck refers to is when The Outsiders and Fearsome Five clashed in JSA#3. Check it out.
Finally I end with a few words regarding the Justice League. Its like a salad. So many different heroes with such different traits, talents, and abilities coming together to fight for justice. It'll be interesting seeing what happens next and just how this fits in to the Merged Earth after the Crises. There will be new villains, the return of old ones, and there will be a heck of a lot of battles but in the end there will be an experience that will have an effect upon the lives of each and every hero that takes part of it. Join me in thirty.
Thanks,
firstbornson
