The New Ultimate DC RPG - Season II

[Andy C.]

"A coverup?! Why would I believe you?!"

He's lying. Trying to get into my head, make me doubt myself so he can take advantage when I hesitate.

I step onto an adjacent headstone, using it for leverage as I launch myself towards him, swinging the staff overhead. The Batman manages to avoid the blow, and my staff gets tangled in the folds of his cape as he pulls away.

Rather than try and pull back, I let the staff go, trying to maintain my balance on the tombstone. Instead, I reach towards my utility belt and produce three projectile weapons-- shuriken-like discs with small explosive charges in them. 'Whirly-birds,' I call them.

"John Grayson was a good man, a good cop--a good father! The man was a hero!" I say, my blood boiling as I fling the Whirly-birds towards him. The Batman dives out of the way, and my weapons pulverize the tombstone where he was perched.

"You're a psychotic control freak who's terrified just as many decent and innocent people as you have the criminals in this city--not to mention you're wanted for multiple murders, including other cops like m--like Grayson. Why should I believe anything you have to say?"

I fling another set of the projectiles at him, and while two of them miss, the third clips the Batman on his shoulder. He grunts, but keeps moving. I'm going to need to move in closer to inflict the kind of damage I need.

I pull my father's nightstick from my side. It feels oddly right when I draw the collapsible baton, leap from the tombstone where I'm perched and swing it at Batman's skull--it's only fitting that my dad's weapon is the one that kills him. Again he deflects it, but again the shards of his armor plating cut into his flesh.

"Grayson was working with you," I say as I recover, landing on another headstone. "You led him on, saying you were going to help him get to Tony Zucco. He trusted you....right until you killed him."

I leap towards him again, but this time I duck low, rolling towards the ground as I swipe at him with the nightstick and slam it hard into his thigh. The blow takes him off-balance, and he falls from his perch.

"You were working with Tony Zucco all along," I hiss, "Or maybe you were just getting rid of the competition, like all the other cops you killed, so you can have Gotham all to yourself. Either way, it stops tonight."

As he starts to get up, I pull my grapnel gun from my belt and fire it at him. The piton grazes past him, punching a hole through his cape, and digs into the concrete vault behind us. The line goes taut, and I spring towards him, the powerful climbing winch shooting me forward.

I swing my legs up into an aerial cartwheel, and crack the nightstick into the back of the so-called hero's head.

"There's nothing you can say to stop me, Batman," I say, stalking behind him. "Nothing you can say to save yourself now."

 

[Batman]

"John Grayson was a good man, a good cop -- a good father! The man was a hero!" I say, my blood boiling as I fling the Whirly-birds towards him. The Batman dives out of the way, and my weapons pulverize the tombstone where he was perched.

No...

It's not possible. The boy's true identity, it can't be what my mind is already telling me. He keeps touting on about it and with every action he's already tipped his hand, but I still refuse to believe what it all implies. I knew he had aggression that was spurned on by the death of his father, and whenever I could make the time, I had worked to try and show him a better way. But this is beyond aggression. This anger that he mainains, this is rage that could provide the means to kill a man - to take a human life to sustain a personal revenge. And only one boy in the world would hate me so much to be able to be driven to such lengths. Which means that if he is, I'll have all but failed my promise to John. I didn't show him the better path. All I taught him was the will to take the life of another.

God almighty. I didn't just fail his father. I've failed them both.

"Dick."

He doesn't hear my realization, but it's one that's too late to be acknowledged. I've known it was Dick longer in this fight than I cared to admit to myself. I just couldn't face the idea... no, the reality of how far I had driven him towards the depths of vengeance. And the worst part of it is, he's actually managing to succeed. His ingenuity is far more than I'd have ever anticipated, he's managed to think out every obstacle. Every challenge of facing me. I don't know how he acquired the weapons, or even the costume, but I know this. It's too late to change his mind. He is absolutely convinced of the vicious lie that Batman killed his father.

And truthfully. He might be right.

"I... I know what this is about. And you're right. I am a monster."

He lunges at me with another attempt at my weakened skull, but I finally manage to properly defend myself in this convulted struggle by throwing up the reinforced steel plating of my gauntlet - perhaps the only part of my suit that hasn't been internally damaged by Dick's explosive. I can feel the shards of ceramic plating beginning to dig deeper into my skin. The seams of the Batsuit are even beginning to run red with blood. If he presses the attack any further, I could suffer damage to any number of vital organs. I should, but I don't want to fight him. He's not a criminal. He's just a boy that wants to honor the memory of a good man.

A man he'll never see again because I couldn't save him.

"But I am telling you, right now, that John Grayson wasn't a victim of my hand. I've made alot of people suffer, you're right about that. And there isn't a day that goes by where I don't regret that. But I am not a murderer. And I would have never killed your father.", I try to explain, as he strikes at me again with the nightstick. Even despite the intensity of the pain, and the fact that I can see a tooth fly out in a wad of blood, I push past the pain and grab at the nightstick with both hands in order to hold him in place. "Your father was a hero. A hell of alot more of one than I'd ever hope to be. In some ways, losing him was alot like losing my own. We're more alike than you realize,"

He obviously doesn't appreciate that sentiment, evidenced by his grunt of anger as he breaks away from my grip and rolls back, launching himself off of one of the gravestones and wildly swinging that collapsable staff at my head. "What would you know about losing a father?! We're not the same! I'm not like you!"

"I'LL NEVER BE YOU!"

 

[Andy C.]

He actually has the gall to compare me to him?! To talk about my father like he knew him? If he's trying to provoke an emotional response, then he's sure as hell got one.

Anger blurs everything, makes it hard to think. There's only the target, and the fact that I have to destroy it.

I swing the staff at him with all of my strength.....

....and I miss. Even as hurt as he is, Batman moves too fast.

"Quit talking and just die!" I snarl, grabbing the butt-end of the staff and swinging it like a baseball bat at him. Again, he's able to duck under the blow....

"Stay still, damn it!"

White-hot rage pulses at my temples, my veins coursing with adrenaline, as I spin to build up momentum and crack his skull open.....only to see he's gone during the split-second I took my eyes off of him.

My vision darts back and forth, looking for the Bat, and I can feel my heart pounding like a jackhammer in my chest. Fear. Hatred. It's making it impossible to think clearly. Haven't even attempted to use any of my other weapons apart from the staff and stick.

"Damn," I say with a growl when I realize what he's done.

If it weren't for the mine, I'd already have lost this fight. Even now, the Batman's getting into my head, screwing with my emotions, causing me to lose control.

I shut my eyes, and take in a deep breath. Get a hold of yourself, Dick--he's going to kill you if you can't rein in your emotions.

"If you didn't kill Grayson," I say, coldly working out the logic in my head, "Then why didn't you ever try to clear your name? Tell the police, or the media, or--....his family....why didn't you tell us?"

I can feel his presence more than hear it as he approaches from the right side. I let the staff fall from my right hand, and it falls to the ground with a clatter......

....before my left hand whips an explosive Whirly-bird into the Batman's chest.

"Because you're lying."

I pick up the staff, then dive towards where I had dropped the nightstick, carrying one weapon in each hand now.

"Trying to pick my brain, Batman? Get under my skin, and provoke an emotional response? Well, it worked--because now I'm just mad as hell."

 

[Batman]

I can feel his presence more than hear it as he approaches from the right side. I let the staff fall from my right hand, and it falls to the ground with a clatter... before my left hand whips an explosive Whirly-bird into the Batman's chest.

"Because you're lying."

I pick up the staff, then dive towards where I had dropped the nightstick, carrying one weapon in each hand now.

"Trying to pick my brain, Batman? Get under my skin, and provoke an emotional response? Well, it worked--because now I'm just mad as hell."

"ARGH!"

An explosion of sparks and shrapnel rip out of my chest as his projectile hits at close range. I'm barely left to wonder what's happened by the time that I stumble backwards and hit the ground, unable to catch my breath in the first few seconds. I don't know where the hell he's gotten these weapons, but the fact that he's managed to outfit them with explosive material - not to mention learned to use the weapons themselves, does nothing to allieviate my cause for alarm. This is not the boy that I took in out of respect for his father. This is a walking, thinking timebomb that's ready to explode. If he manages to kill me tonight, I can't begin to imagine what kind of horrible future his anger will lead him to. But I know that if I don't stop him now, I won't be given the chance to lead him off of this path. Because I've practically been letting him murder me since the fight started. I won't believe this is really you, Dick. I can't... and I won't let it.

"Hhh. Hhh. Dick... wait..."

The boy may be right. I could have easily told him the truth about his father. I could have told the entire world that Tony Zucco was the man that really murdered John Grayson that night. I was just so blinded by my own thirst for retribution - my own hatred for the kind of filth like Zucco, that would gladly leave another young boy orphaned on Gotham's streets, that I forgot about Dick's well-deserved entitlement to the truth. I promised John that I would look after him, told the man as he laid dying that I would protect him with my last breath. But perhaps I was mistaken in trying to protect him from everything. This city's corruption, it's taken the boy's grief and twisted it into something monstrous.

I have to reach him. Not for myself, but for Dick's own soul. If he manages to kill me tonight, he'll never be able to live that down. It will stay with him for the rest of his life. And that's when he'll truly become part of the evil that's claimed so many lives because of men like his father's killer.

"Stop... I... I have to..."

Too late. Before I can even stand, though that is more of a challenge than expected, I feel the metal of his staff collide against the side of my cowl. It absorbs most of the impact, but the force is too great to allow me to keep standing. I weakly reach out, and grab at his tunic, but he rips away from my arm and smashes the nightstick into my wrist, nearly breaking it. I fall onto my back, my chest still smoldering and the blood running thicker. Starting to feel dizzy, like I've already gone a few rounds without sleep. And yet still, the boy keeps pounding away at me. Tearing me apart with each and every strike.

"...save you..."

Maybe I deserve it.

Maybe I deserve it all.

 

[Andy C.]

"How do you know my name.....?" I say, the boiling rage suddenly freezing solid as I'm gripped by fear.

I've tipped my hand too much. If he knew about my father, it's a good bet that he knew about me.

He knows who I am.

The staff and nightstick fall from my hands, and I stare at the broken Batman in wide-eyed shock.

"Who are you?" I ask, the words barely a whisper, before repeating as a roar. "WHO ARE YOU?!?!?!"

I lunge at the wounded vigilante, grabbing at the cowl that covers his face.

"Come on, you bastard, show me your face!" I growl, clawing at the Batman's mask, trying to peel it off of him.

Finally, I get my fingers in one of the cracks in the cowl's shattered armor, and I pry it open.......

.......and see the face of the man I've been trying to kill.


"......no........"

 

[Batman]

"Who are you?" I ask, the words barely a whisper, before repeating as a roar. "WHO ARE YOU?!?!?!"

I lunge at the wounded vigilante, grabbing at the cowl that covers his face.

"Come on, you bastard, show me your face!" I growl, clawing at the Batman's mask, trying to peel it off of him.

Finally, I get my fingers in one of the cracks in the cowl's shattered armor, and I pry it open.

I feel the cowl go long before I even realize that he's trying to remove it. Since taking on the crusade, I've long prepared for a moment like this - when it would come down to an enemy gaining the tactical advantage, leaving my identity directly threatened in the field by compromising my disguise. But even as I close my eyes and prepare for the worst, knowing that I have to face this moment down whenever I would have preferred to have never let it happen, I feel an odd euphoria overtake me. Were this any other person, I might have made a bigger effort to protest. Activated one of the suit's countermeasures, prompting an electrical current that would leave the perpetrator dazed and unconscious before he could catch a proper glance. But looking at the boy as he does it, I don't see someone that I need to hide from anymore. I see a lost soul looking for answers that no one else can give him. He needs this more than I need the preservation of my secret. And in some odd way, I'm actually relieved.

Rain picks up as we stand there in the darkness, allowing him to take in what he sees. I don't acknowledge his evident shock at first. I'm not even quite sure of what to say myself. But as he takes a few steps back and bumps into a gravestone, eyes wide, I realize that the fight may be over. I just have to let Dick know that no matter where this takes us, no matter what knowing this about me means for either of us, my intentions have remained the same from the day we met. He is my responsibility now. And in the end, I would like for him to feel like he can trust me more than anyone in the world.

Maybe this is the first step towards that.

"I... I tried to tell you before, Dick.", I begin, my voice cracked with a groaning wheeze. "This isn't a road that you want to go down. I've seen too much of this city's darkness, and if you let it, it will consume you. I suppose now, you understand why no one knows that better than me."

I can tell he's still on edge. It'll take more to convince him of my sincerity. My face may now be Bruce Wayne's, but with the rest of the outfit still in place, I imagine it must be odd to witness to someone who's known me as one person - and hated me as the other.

"There's no reason left for me to lie. I didn't kill your father. A man named Tony Zucco did, and the blame was placed on me. The only thing I could do, the only consolation that I could make for not being able to save his life, was to watch over your's."

I step towards him, lowering down my guard. Letting him see my eyes as I speak.

"That's the only crime I've ever committed against your family. But given everything, you would have never believed me. The media, the world, no one would have ever had any reason to give me the benefit of the doubt. And perhaps that's my fault more than anyone else's."

My head lowers, as I realize that all I have left is the slim hope that he'll begin to see the bigger picture. Even if he hates me for the rest of his life, I have no regret in telling him all of this. No more secrets between us, no more lies.

He is now wholly apart of my world.

"I'm sorry, Dick. You deserved to know... about everything."

 

[Andy C.]

"All this time.......everything I've done for the last year.......I was wrong....."

I step away from Mister Wayne, the man who took me in when I had nothing left, the man who tried to show me a better way to live......the man I spent the last year prepared to kill.

"I wanted you dead for something you didn't even do," I say, the shock starting to boil over into frustration. "All that time training, building weapons, staking out the city......and the entire time, I was hunting for the wrong man?"

I try to blink away the hot tears that sting at my eyes, but there are too many of them.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I screwed everything up. Dad would have been ashamed of me."

In the distance, I hear sirens approaching-- the GCPD responding to the explosion that started this disaster of a fight.

"Cops are on the way," I say. "We have to get you out of here."

 

[Batman]

"I'm sorry," I say. "I screwed everything up. Dad would have been ashamed of me."

In the distance, I hear sirens approaching-- the GCPD responding to the explosion that started this disaster of a fight.

"Cops are on the way," I say. "We have to get you out of here."

Sirens. Barely even heard them without the cowl's ultrasensitive relays to fall back on. Head's already spinning from the blood loss, I can feel the need to breathe become a nessecity rather than instinct. In the boy's determination, Dick did more damage to me than I even realized. Under any other circumstances, I might actually be... impressed. Rarely do you ever see the kind of ingenuity and strategic prowess in someone of his age. But now really isn't the time for either of us to dwell upon what it is that this all means. The police seeing me without the cowl is one thing, but I have to admit - something else bothers me more. If I'm arrested, Dick's liable to go to jail right along with me. And I can't allow that to happen to the boy, especially after tonight's, well. Tonight's breakthrough. I honestly felt as if I were seeing emotion that was never there behind his eyes for the very first time.

He has promise. More importantly, he has a future. And I can't let him squander all of it away on an ill-fated attempt at a merciless revenge. Even as my body aches and the blood begins to pool in the seams of my boots, I grab Dick by the shoulder and pull him closer so that he can't leave sight.

"We'll talk whenever we get home," I hoarsely explain, tapping a sensor embedded into my gauntlet. "Right now, we're hitching a ride. Stay close until you see it. Then on my mark, run like hell for it."

Even though he's still hesitant, still fighting back everything that he's feeling, he manages a small nod of compliance. The sirens are getting closer. I ignore them and stare up at the skies, hoping that I haven't timed this wrong. A moment later and we both watch as the clouds give way to an enormous shadow, unfolding it's wings and lowering an escape line. The Batmobile, arriving with barely a minute to spare.

"Now Dick,", I urge, pushing him forward. "MOVE!"

We both barrell towards the car as it hovers above the gravesite, and for the first time since the fight... I feel like I'm about to pass out.

Damn it. Not now. Not like this.

 

[Mr. Majestic]

​

“Majestrate rise to your feet or die where you lay.”

“There is no point for me to continue mother I can’t beat you without my powers.”

“To make an excuse such as that tells me that you are not born to be king and you are not my child. If you wish to prove me wrong stand up and show me other wise.”

I can’t win against her she is to strong, fast and skilled. Every time I attack she defends and responds with a counter.

“This isn’t a reasonable battle to begin with you have your abilities.”

“Why must you be so weak?” She then takes off the piece of armor from her forearm revealing a Kherubim device. “I to do not have my powers, the reason I have been besting you is because when I go into battle I already know the outcome. You on the under hand quit once you believe there is no chance in winning. That is not the warrior way. Maybe your father and I were wrong about you becoming the next king. Perhaps it should fall to a more worthy Kherubim.”

“You shall not deprive me of what’s rightfully mine. I will be king and I won’t let you or father or anyone for that matter stand in my way.”

“If you feel so strongly about those words show me what the future king of Kherubim can do.”

Attacking her straight on would be a fools mistake. My mother is too skilled in battle, she is trained in many different forms of battle besting mother is an impossible task. Even father has had his hands full, that’s the reason she is queen today. I only have one move to make.

I get up from my knees and stand up straight into a fighting position. My mother responds by doing the same in kind. Now I must prove to myself that I am meant to be king.

I take off running in my mother’s direction no matter what I do she will be prepared so I must rethink my normal plan of attack and I know exactly what to do. While approaching striking distance I throw a straight right that she easily knocked to the side with a bit of force, something I counted on. I use the momentum of my body spinning and turn it into a spinning kick. As my foot comes close to her face she grabs it right before impact. She fallows up with a left jab which I knew she would do. Mother believes that when someone attack’s you respond by defending and attacking at the same time.

As her punch is about to hit I grab her fist with both hands and with my free leg I bring it right to her throat stopping my foot right before impact.

“Very good my son, you realize the only way that you would be able to hit me is to do my same strategy. Defend and attack at the same time. But next time go through with the blow. No matter who the opponent may be show them no mercy.”

She releases my foot and I let go of her fist. She then beings to go over my strength and weakness in battle father arrives.

“Zealot don’t you believe you are being to hard on Majestrate?”

“You are not hard enough my dear husband.”

“Why must I when he has you to do that my dear wife? Come son we must go.”

******​

“Father why have we left our planet?”

“What your mother has been teaching you is excellent but no good king can rule his people with an iron fist.”

“Why not father? They should know to fear me as king. If I give an order they should obey no questions asked.”

“Son if a king acts like that sooner or later his people will rise against him. Ruling by fear will only last but for so long. But if a king has the respect of his people they will fallow him no matter what the cost.”

“Is that why your having me take this journey to this planet?”

“That is correct, a kryptonian friend told me about this planet many years ago. I visited and it helped mold me into the king I am today. Hopefully it will help make you into the king I know you will be.”

“What is the name of this planet?”

“Earth.”

My eyes slowly open and I realize that I was dreaming, something I haven’t done in years. Why am I dreaming of my childhood is the question I seek an answer to. I had almost forgotten the true reason my father sent me here. I been telling myself for years that it is to be seen as a hero in these earthlings eyes but that is not the case. If my mother had witness my actions on this planet she would be proud. I’ve acted like a Kherubim warrior making it known that the human race is not my equal. If my father had observed me over the years he would look down on me. I haven’t done anything he wanted from me. Since being here I have now finally realized what it is I must do. I will become king of my planet but first I must fallow into my father’s footsteps.

 

[Spike_x1]

After many hours of hard work, I finally rub my hands together with a job well done. Pokolistan's capital city has been restored, buildings stand tall once again, and the roads are ready to have cars run along them for the first time in years. I can't stop the way that people think, and bringing about real change here is going to take more than a few fixed houses and roadways. That's up to them. But if my rebuilding efforts here have given even a single Pokolistanian family a place to safely tuck their children in and sleep comfortably for even one night, then at least some small measure of good has come from all of this.

I hear light footsteps quickly approaching from a block away and turn to see who it is. Meeting my eyes now is a little girl with only a pet dog for company here in the otherwise deserted streets. She looks cheerful and reasonably well cared for, especially considering the environment, so I can only assume that her parents or guardians must be nearby. After a moment of looking at me in puzzlement, her gaze starts moving around the reconstructed house and her jaw drops in wonder. With a smile and a gentle wave farewell to her, I take to the skies and set course for home while my thoughts drift to everything that just took place.

The Justice League.

My fears regarding the formation of our team proved to be my ultimate weakness instead of the reasonable cautious attitude that I had thought it all was. Even before Doctor Destiny invaded and warped my mind, how could I have expected to work alongside a group that I could never allow myself to actually trust? I needed to learn --to be shown-- that these people are not a group of potential Blackrocks or Maximas waiting to happen and be unleashed on the world. Through everything that has just happened, these heroes have more than earned my trust, and proved that they'll help the world at all costs and fight for what's right, even against insurmountable odds. In the end, that's more than enough proof I will ever need to truly see that forming the Justice League was a good choice for all of us to make.

~J'onn?~ I mentally call from one planet to another, hoping that he's available to answer.

~Yes, Superman?~

~Whenever you choose to return to Earth, do you think that you might like to have dinner with my folks and I some time? My mom makes a mean apple pie and I think she and Dad would love to meet one of my coworkers.~

 

[Andy C.]

Lex Luthor​

"I'm glad you all made it," I say as I address the circular conference table in the center room of my private retreat in the mountains. Normally I would prefer such a meeting in my penthouse at Lexcorp, but I have reasons for wanting to separate myself from my own technology today. "There has been a problem within the ranks of the Society for quite some time now. And at long last, I have traced that problem to its roots."

To my right, Ra's al Ghul sits placidly, eyeing the other members of the Society with an almost serene calmness. However, just beneath that, his mind is working through a thousand possible avenues of attack in case they are needed.

To my left, Vandal Savage leans casually in his chair, stroking his beard with an air of passing interest. I get the impression that he has been through similar situations a thousand times before, at the very least.

Across from him is Kobra, who eyes the white-haired simian form of the Ultra-Humanite with visible distaste. Humanite, on the other hand, seems to already be bored with the whole affair.

The eyes of Felix Faust dart back and forth across the room, clearly uncomfortable with being outside of the safety of his private sanctum. I doubt any of them will instigate anything, but if there is one person that bears close watching, it is him, if only by sheer virtue of his nervousness.

"As all of you are aware, not particularly long ago, we were on the cusp of world domination. The world was caught with its guard down, Superman was dying before my very eyes, and the Manhattan Project was within a few short minutes of fundamentally changing humanity as we know it. However, my plan was.......delayed."

"By your mysterious 'traitor,'" Savage says with an air of skepticism. "Someone secretly hacked into your company's AI system, took control of the comatose Doctor Manhattan, and forced him to teleport away all of the missiles in mid-flight. And then you went around the world accusing all of us of being the traitor."

"Can we skip the formalities, Luthor?" Faust says impatiently. "It was Ultra-Humanite, wasn't it?"

The albino gorilla's head turns towards Faust, his beady, low-browed eyes burning.

"I beg your pardon?" He says with a growl.

"That slovenly creature has yet to prove himself worthy of being in our presence," Kobra hisses. "I would not put it past him to sabotage our efforts in order to sustain his life of idleness and debauchery."

"I would suggest the two of you watch your tongues," Humanite snarls, "Before I force you to rip them out of your skulls with your own hands."

"Enough of this childishness!" snaps Ra's al Ghul, the first time he has spoken since arriving. "Let us not forget our place, as superior men to those we must rule. Now, Luthor, enlighten us......who was it that betrayed us?"

"I am afraid, Ra's, that that is a question with no answer," I say, before quickly silencing the outbreak of frustrated grumbles. "Because it wasn't a who at all."

Savage raises an eyebrow.

"Then what was it that hacked into your AI?"

"I'm afraid that's also the wrong question," I say, "Because the L-Soft AI wasn't hacked at all."

"What in the infernal depths are you talking about?!" Faust blurts.

"Think, gentlemen," I say to everyone, but to Faust in particular. "That's all I've ever asked of anyone--just think for a moment. If the command to Dr. Manhattan came from within the L-Soft AI, and yet no one had taken control of it, then the logical conclusion must be......"

The cold silence in the room tells me they've reached the answer.

"It was the AI itself that betrayed us," says Ra's.

"Ha!" laughs Savage. "Now I see why you wanted us to meet here in the woods, as far removed from your tower. Your own technology has turned against you."

"Not quite," I correct him. "There was indeed a rogue AI within the Lexcorp Tower, one that has been working towards an agenda of its own. But it is not the L-Soft AI I created; rather, it's a foreign AI that managed to infiltrate the system and disguise itself as my creation some years ago. I've suspected it for quite some time, but proof came to me when I discovered it had taken over one of my production facilities in order to build a cybernetic frame unlike anything this planet has ever seen-- building a body for itself. The most advanced artificial intelligence in the world, and now it's piloting the single most sophisticated piece of technology ever made."

"Then how do you suggest we fight this.....thing?
asks Kobra.

"To put it quite simply, Kobra......we don't."

Ra's looks towards me, displeased. Faust is trembling with outrage. Even Ultra-Humanite seems concerned.

"You see, I wasn't the one who called for this meeting," I say as the double-doors swing open.

"That is correct," says a synthetic voice, pitch-perfect and yet utterly false to the ears. "This meeting, this entire operation, was in fact orchestrated......"

"......by me."

The artificial being walks into the room with an inhuman air of both grace and power, controlling the motor functions of its chassis with absolute perfection. The design of it is so precise, so intricate, so technologically perfect, that it would drive a lesser man to tears. And the purpose with which is was built is one of pure, cold, and unwavering malice.

It stares at the members of the Society with calculating, unfeeling eyes, before speaking again.

"I suspect you have questions," it states. "Where shall we begin?"

 

[trustyside-kick]

Swimming up to them both, even though he was still weak, Aquaman grabbed the sword in mid-air and held it firmly in place, directing it at his foe as he managed to struggle free of the squid's massive strength.

"It would seem the tides have turned, brother. You may have once held justification in your hatred, but your madness tells me otherwise! I will never allow you to slaughter anyone, even the petty Sea God!"

"Madness? Is it madness to want justice to come to those who had done you wrong? Such...such wrong? The scale of this Sea God's...injustice...is incalculable. I speak not only of myself...for the abomination that I am makes me technically a part of you. It is the reason I can call you 'brother', how loose that may be. I can close my eyes and see her, you know..."

As Orm Marius starts to close his eyes, completely submitting to Aquaman as the hero does indeed still have the upper hand, he continues to speak.

"I just close my eyes...and I can see what you saw. Hear what you heard, as our mother remained dying in your arms. Our mother."

There is a brief smile on his face, as he finally remembers something, that is indeed his memory...even if it is not 100% in fact his. No fabrications. No...doubt in his mind at all. A true, genuine, real memory.

"She was so beautiful...before she made the deal with Tethys...for you. For your well being. Before she became the creature Nuliajuk. Can you remember, Orin? I can see her now like I was there in your place. If I could dream about one thing...one moment...it would be this. And it is not even my own. How sad is that?"

The Ocean Mater opens his eyes, and while Aquaman cannot tell, for he continues to wear his helmet that shields his copy of a face, the villain stares at Aquaman with more hate than ever before. For it is his first time experiencing this beautiful moment, and then it turns ugly.

"She speaks out to you...saying, 'You've...freed me, son. You've freed me from the...curse and prison of Nuliajuk. Now...my mind and spirit can...be free and reunite with your father. Kordax...he'd be...s-s-so proud of you.'...it's almost as though I can hear her words. And just to believe that someone may call me son brings me to the brink of tears. Your emotions are...unknown for they are rampant and wild. Unsure of what you feel as it pains her to see...she cries out to you. saying 'Orin? Son...why don't you say...a word?'...and again you answer her back with silence. She knows that her last moments are upon her, and that she breathes her last bits of breath and manages to say one last thing saying, 'I...l-l--love you...' and still you utter not a word. Not even a semblance of emotion and gratitude for the woman who gave you birth and gave you life...not one word."

And now, the Ocean Master has truly brought the Marine Marvel down to his knees figuratively speaking, as the giant squid seems to have loosened its grip, freeing Orm. But the former follower of Poseidon does not choose to attack the Aquatic Ace with magical or brute force yet again. But with words. For there is not any spell he could conjure or a spear sharp enough to pierce and create such wounds. And so he swims up to him, and as the hero is practically frozen in his stance, sword pointed at his enemy, the Ocean Master greets the threat as he draws himself near the tip of the blade with his neck.

"NOT ONE WORD?!"

"And yet...you find it fitting to call me a creature. If I am the one, that is to be a creature, brother...then please...relieve me of my misery. Slay me, brother...like you would a beast. Without a care. Without a thought. Put me down."

"ENOUGH!!"

There is a loud boom in the waters as the God of the Seas Poseidon makes his presence known. It does not change the stances of both Aquaman and Ocean Master, however. Both simply turn their heads to the attention of the old and corrupt God, causing Orm to mutter under his breath as he is most surprised.

"Poseidon!"

"You are by far the greatest disappointment, Orm. Even when you sought to betray me, it appeared that you may of still be of service as you were indirectly still serving your main purpose of taking out Aquaman. And you could not even do that. Your purpose! The reason you live! The reason I created you! That I...molded you into what you are. And to think, my son Triton ranks above you in terms of respectability."

Before Orm or Orin can respond or react, immediately the God of the Seas is on the move as he commands the waters around him to be his arsenal. Weapons varying from spears to swords to tridents and axes form out of water, hardened enough to cut even coral as the Sea God readies his attack.

"I suppose though that I should thank you for at least injuring the ungrateful hero of Poseidonis. I may yet be rid of him myself after I erase your embarrassing life from existence!"

 

[Andy C.]

Sirens. Barely even heard them without the cowl's ultrasensitive relays to fall back on. Head's already spinning from the blood loss, I can feel the need to breathe become a nessecity rather than instinct. In the boy's determination, Dick did more damage to me than I even realized. Under any other circumstances, I might actually be... impressed. Rarely do you ever see the kind of ingenuity and strategic prowess in someone of his age. But now really isn't the time for either of us to dwell upon what it is that this all means. The police seeing me without the cowl is one thing, but I have to admit - something else bothers me more. If I'm arrested, Dick's liable to go to jail right along with me. And I can't allow that to happen to the boy, especially after tonight's, well. Tonight's breakthrough. I honestly felt as if I were seeing emotion that was never there behind his eyes for the very first time.

He has promise. More importantly, he has a future. And I can't let him squander all of it away on an ill-fated attempt at a merciless revenge. Even as my body aches and the blood begins to pool in the seams of my boots, I grab Dick by the shoulder and pull him closer so that he can't leave sight.

"We'll talk whenever we get home," I hoarsely explain, tapping a sensor embedded into my gauntlet. "Right now, we're hitching a ride. Stay close until you see it. Then on my mark, run like hell for it."

Even though he's still hesitant, still fighting back everything that he's feeling, he manages a small nod of compliance. The sirens are getting closer. I ignore them and stare up at the skies, hoping that I haven't timed this wrong. A moment later and we both watch as the clouds give way to an enormous shadow, unfolding it's wings and lowering an escape line. The Batmobile, arriving with barely a minute to spare.

"Now Dick,", I urge, pushing him forward. "MOVE!"

We both barrell towards the car as it hovers above the gravesite, and for the first time since the fight... I feel like I'm about to pass out.

Damn it. Not now. Not like this.

The revelations I've learned tonight......that Batman was innocent of my father's murder.....that he was really Bruce Wayne......that all this time, I've been watched over and taken care of by the very person I was training myself to kill.

After having so much of my world turned on its head, a flying car barely even registers to me.

The police close in, and I'm nearly at the car, when I notice that Mister Wayne isn't behind me. I look over my shoulder and see him about five paces back, doubled over, passed out from exhaustion and blood loss. I stop dead in my tracks, slipping and nearly falling on the wet ground, before running back to him.

"Come on," I say as I try to pull him up--he's already about twice my size, not to mention wearing several dozen extra pounds of armor and equipment. "Let's....*ngh!*....let's go!"

I manage to pull him up, slinging his arm over my shoulder to drag him along.

"Think you can drop a bomb on me like that, then head off to prison?" I say with a bitter grin as I pull him towards the car. "Think again. You're not getting away that easy."

The flashing blue and red lights of GCPD squad cars light up the night, before I'm nearly blinded by a searchlight from a helicopter above us.

"BATMAN!" cries out a voice over a megaphone. "WE HAVE THE AREA SURROUNDED! STAND DOWN IMMEDIATELY!"

I look up at the helicopter, still sneering, then heave Mister Wayne with all of my strength into the car's open cockpit.

Climbing in, I look over the panels of controls, then buckle up and hope this thing's autopilot can get us somewhere safe.

"Come on, come on, get us out of here!" I say, frantically looking for the way to enter in the command. Outside, the police point their guns at us, threatening to shoot.

Fortunately, either this vehicle has a voice-command function or a really good automated defense system, because as soon as one of the officers lobs a canister of tear gas towards us, the canopy slides shut and the car hurls itself upward, climbing up past the helicopter and banking behind a building to escape.

As we fly through the streets of Gotham, I look over and see that Mister Wayne is regaining consciousness.

"When we get home," I say flatly, I think you and I are going to have to have a very long talk."

 

[Batman]

"Come on, come on, get us out of here!" I say, frantically looking for the way to enter in the command. Outside, the police point their guns at us, threatening to shoot.

Fortunately, either this vehicle has a voice-command function or a really good automated defense system, because as soon as one of the officers lobs a canister of tear gas towards us, the canopy slides shut and the car hurls itself upward, climbing up past the helicopter and banking behind a building to escape.

As we fly through the streets of Gotham, I look over and see that Mister Wayne is regaining consciousness.

"Nngh."

Head's spinning and my torso goes numb as I feel myself waking up to the sounds of The Batmobile's interface. It's only after a few moments of recollection that I manage to realize I'm not the one driving it, and that Oracle's already scanned my vitals in the suit and launched a retrieval protocol sometime after I must have blacked out. It was a feature I had intergretated into the program a long time ago - that if I was taken out in the midst of battle, for whatever reason, Oracle's AI would take over the situation and assess the best possible resolution. And apparently the best possible resolution is a retreat. Even before I look down at the thick stains of blood that are pooling at the bottom of my costume, I can feel it all trickling down my body. Whatever's happened, I can tell... I'm not in the best of shape.

That's when I remember. The graveyard, the encryption. The explosives and subsequent fight. I remember losing it considerably. And my opponent was... Dick. He was there with me. God. He knows everything now. Where has he gone? What happened to the police? Have they got to him? Dammit, I have to wake up and find him before...

"When we get home, I think you and I are going to have to have a very long talk."

My eyes flutter open as I hear the voice of a distraught fifteen year-old coming from the passenger's seat of The Batmobile. And there he is, dressed in that unusual costume he's made for himself, strapped into the seat and perfectly fine. My nerves subside as I sit up properly and engage the steering panel, allowing myself to shake off the nauseua that came with the severity of my wounds. I don't allow him to see it in my face, but I'll admit. I was worried about the boy. My own arrest at the hands of the GCPD has been a possibility that I've long prepared myself for, dreaming up countless scenearios where they've managed to succeed in their relentless manhunt against me. But I honestly don't think I could have prepared myself for the idea of Dick being locked away - if he was seen with Batman, even for a moment, they'd likely have questions. Which means there's an even more relevant danger in what's happened tonight.

Nevermind the fact that he knows everything. Silence overwhelms us as I try to seize control from the Batmobile's autopilot function. I don't blame him for staying quiet. I don't even know what I could say. How do I possibly begin to explain this? We already crossed this road before, where I tried to make it clear to him that violence isn't a solution in any facet of society. Because I wanted him to be raised properly, to know that he'd succeed in everything he wanted and that he had the support to take him wherever he needed. I didn't want him to become another me, lost in the world and overridden with guilt and vengeance. But this changes everything. I can't expect him to follow that guideance if he knows that every night, I'm going out there to wage a war. It's complete hypocrisy.

"Dick,", I finally say, barely managing to speak in my weakened state. "I know that this..."

Before I can even finish, the sensors on the dashboard alert me to incoming hostiles, in the form of GCPD helicopters. Normally I might try and engage them in order to send a message, but with Dick here with me in the car, I can't take the risk. Weakly kicking open a compartment beneath the steering column, I grab one of the spare cowls inside and rip off the damaged material lingering around my neck, replacing it immediately.

"You're right. This can all wait until later,", I explain, taking full control of the vehicle. "For now, let's see if we can lose them."

Without warning him, I shift the thrust into maximum and hear the jet engines roar into life, blasting away at the copters with enough force to send them briefly spiraling backwards. With our altitude set, the car simply hovers as I struggle to get it back into the neutral gear. Finally it gives, and I boost the acceleration. "Hang onto something. We're heading up."

He obviously struggles to grasp the full concept of what I mean, but in a moment's time, he begins to understand. The Batmobile blasts forward and loops into the air, rising high above Gotham's skyline and gaining momentum with every second it ascends. Before Dick knows it, the craft turns us upside down, as the air pressure begins to build inside the cockpit. I'd be lying if I said it wouldn't normally be a thrill to do this, but in my present condition, it feels more strained than anything. Easing up on the throttle, I fight the controls and pull down the wheel, shifting the Batmobile past the clouds and back into a proper flight.

"Sorry. It does that."

With cloud cover on our side, I activate the smoke filter that releases under the car and watch as we're coated in a light mist. Topside, it's fairly unremarkable. But beneath us now sits the perfect camoflague against the clouds, as the smoke turns from a darkened gray to a stark white. The HUD interface shows us both that the helicopters' search has stopped, as they begin to circle the remnants of the partially destroyed graveyard. I look over at Dick's expression as he sees the fire, noticing a considerable guilt as he looks away. The grave he destroyed must have been his father's.

He's right. We will have to have a very long talk.

Heading on the path out of Gotham, The Batmobile descends from the clouds and banks low, heading across the river as we reach a destination point that I know all too well. It's funny, actually. Until I had a passenger to bring with me, I could never appreciate the scope of the actual path to The Batcave. Now, seeing the look on his face as we drop, I can't help but wonder if I've overdone it. The Batmobile collides against the water and the jet engines vault into the back as we're submerged, giving way to a couple of underwater thrusters. The car slowly begins to turn, crawling at a pace towards the access point beneath a Waynetech shipping yard that I had intergrated into the underground caverns years ago. After hitting the entrance, several lights illuminate the path ahead as I pilot us through a series of underwater tunnels.

"As I was saying,", I continue, pinpointing the platform ahead of us. "I realize that this is alot to take in. You're barely as old as I was whenever I first knew that my life would have to take this... turn."

The Batmobile lands on the platform hard, shaking us both and unpleasantly reminding me of the pain that's sinking into the compromised portions of my body. Alfred's going to have his work cut out for him, this time. If he can stop the bleeding in time to even patch up the wounds.

"...nngh!"

Keeping it together, I grab the wheel and press a button that activates the platform's lift. Within seconds, we're out of water and ascending into the Batcave. Dick stares in stunned silence at the large cavern we're entering as the canopy slides open, illuminating the cockpit as I breathe in a lungful of fresh air to try and fight off the oncoming sense of passing out again.

"I... I just want you to know. This doesn't change anything between us. I'm still your... friend."

Unable to fight it, I collapse onto the steering panel just as Alfred rushes towards the car.

"Bruce? Bruce! Are you alright?! Oracle just alerted me to the state of your vitals, you're slipping into shock! We have to get you to... good lord in heaven, who is that you've got with you?! Master Dick?!"

And the world once again goes black.

 

[Byrd Man]

Gotham Central


The board is set up in my office. It has a map of the city, with dozens of pins stuck in them. There are four distinct colors on the board.

Blue
Green
Red
Black

Blue is a Batman sighting that has taken over the past two months. Green is a sighting of Batman stopping a crime in progress during that time. Red is a Batman sighting that involved the GCPD. Black is when Batman assaults the police officer.

The colors are spread out all over the city, but two colors predominate. Green and black.

Over the past two months, Batman has declared war on the GCPD

And he's winning.

My special task force has spent the past sixty days tearing apart the city at night, looking for Batman and trying to breaking him in. He's alluded us time and time again, and even managed to raise hell on Arkham Island.

We've been going about this all the wrong way. We've been seeking him out when he doesn't want to be found. Time to change it up. Time to make him come to us.

My cellphone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out. A blocked number.

"This is Nygma."

"Inspector," the man on the other line says in a clam voice. "I speak for a mutual friend of ours. He tells me that it's time for you to repay your debt."

"Okay...tell him to watch the news and listen to the police scanners. If this works like I think it will, it's all his."

The man cuts the line and I close my phone back up before putting it back in my pocket. Reaching across the table, I grab a walkie talkie and press the transmit button.

"10-02 to Dispatch. Patch me through to Captain Branden on his secure channel."

"10-4."

"Yeah, this is Branden."

"Branden? Inspector Nygma. Get your SWAT teams ready I'll have my MCU officers and a few tact squads ready to meet you at the rendezvous point,"

"Sure this will work, sir?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now get ready, I'll call the media, 10-02 out."

I cut the line with Branden and look back at the board. In a two month period, Batman has assaulted twenty-five different police officers. Two he sent into the ICU. There's no way in hell this will work.

But then again, that's the plan.
​

 

[Batman]

Before Orm or Orin can respond or react, immediately the God of the Seas is on the move as he commands the waters around him to be his arsenal. Weapons varying from spears to swords to tridents and axes form out of water, hardened enough to cut even coral as the Sea God readies his attack.

"I suppose though that I should thank you for at least injuring the ungrateful hero of Poseidonis. I may yet be rid of him myself after I erase your embarrassing life from existence!"

There was much for one to feel in the prescence of a diety like Poseidon. The most immediate reaction would be that of awe, basking upon the great physical prescence that the God of the Seas created upon choosing to inhabit a massive Atlantean form, his liquid eyes stern and his voice quite literally capable of shattering the Earth, commanding it's seas with every word. The next reaction would undoutedbly be remorse, for the legends of the elder Atlanteans told that if the Sea God were to greet you, it would most likely be with his wrath. One would try and beg his forgiveness with promises of eternal servitude and devotion, to ammend his own sins, and if he were lucky he would be spared. This was the most common reaction that Poseidon was used to seeing, in his most recent thousand year reign over the Atlanteans. Because the only alternative meant looking upon the eyes of the fearful, the ones that knew that they would never be forgiven of their crimes, and knew that they would soon become only the latest in a long line of those who Poseidon had decreed so vile, so evil, that they were unworthy of the seas. These Atlanteans were known, far and wide, as The Forgotten.

So it was a surprise for even Poseidon to look upon the face of the one creature that had turned away from him, the one bravest enough in all of Poseidonis to first say in many years that the Sea God or his actions were wrong, and see that the same expression was staring back at him - followed by eyes that conveyed absolute rage. For all of his life, Orin had swam the oceans as an outcast who was hated. The recepient of pregidous for what they called The Curse of Korydax, following the public execution of his father. His mother suffered a fate even worse, transformed into a horrid creature that lived with only a venomous lust for vengeance. Yet even with all of those accursed misgivings thrown his way from birth by a petty old God that could never find true wisdom beneath his own hypocrisy, Orin had never sought a reason to hate Poseidonis. Distrust, and dislike him. But never truly hate.

This, the one that called himself an Ocean Master. This mad and twisted copy of his own flesh. This was it. This was what had finally driven Orin to the brink of all that he could take from the titan's vengeful hand. Because even as hurtful or even pitiful as it may have seemed, Orin could have at least seen the Sea God's actions for what they were. Desperate attempts to rectify himself in the eyes of those whose faith he had lost. His father had spoken out against Poseidon's law and offered a better path. Thus, he was fed to the creatures of the deep. His mother had fled under his tyrannical rule and given birth to a renegade Atlantean. So when fate intervened, she allowed herself to be transformed into the Nuliajuk, lost to the hatred of the one that had torn her family apart. But Ocean Master?

He was the ultimate testament to Poseidon's evil. A weapon designed for nothing more than wanton death. Even knowing that it was meant to be his own, it didn't matter to Orin. Because knowing that he had been given a brother this way, dreamed up in the most sickening and vile of a God's thoughts, meant knowing that he was capable of creating such a thing in the first place. And that, above all, was what Orin saw as unforgivable. Utilizing the power to control the oceans to instead create madness.

Raising his massive hand and pointing directly at the appointed hero of Poseidonis, the Sea God looked back at him with an anger few had lived long enough to see.

"You! You dare look upon me with contempt?! After all I have I done to your ancestors, all that have paid for their disobedience to me! You test the limits of my wrath still?! I offered you an end to all this, and you rejected me! You cast aside my hospitality and forced this fued to continue! This is all your-"

"ENOUGH!"

Even though it seemed to be an impossibility, Poseidon seemed genuinely taken aback as Orin weakly managed to step forward, his spilled blood fading into the water around him.

"You blame me for this? For this?! You are but a pathetic shell of a once great God. How is it that such a being of absolute power can be so blinded to his own mistakes?!"

"SILENCE!"

Poseidon's hand shifted, and cyclones of hard water impacted against Orin's chest, knocking him back with great force. Yet even still, he was already trying to crawl back to his feet. Seeing this defiance, Poseidon lifted his hands above his head and created a vortex between his fingers, until it amassed into a large cylinder of light.

"I warned you, Orin of Atlantis. I warned you just as I warned your father. Yet to dwindle in your own arrogance was the path you both chose. Now I am forced to clean up after your scourge upon my seas, and you call me the blind one?!"

Orin sneered back at the diety that could kill him in an instant.

"Blind? Perhaps. But moreover, I see it now. You are just... lost."

Poseidon's anger outweighed his logic, as he brought the massive energy down upon Orin. The seas themselves exploded as it collided with a hero who only sought to tell a vengeful titan the error of his own ways, and Ocean Master was forced to watch as Aquaman momentarily shrieked in anguish... before falling. Left lying in a crater, hot coils of air rose between the waves, as if the hero of Atlantis' barely conscious body were still burning. The God of the Seas narrowed his gaze, as if at war with himself more than anyone.

"Yes. Yes, I warned him. This is all his doing."

Then turned his focus towards Ocean Master.

"Just as you are his mistake. I gave you life and turned you loose, but only in his image. His example. He created you more than I ever did."

The hard water contstructs readied themselves.

"For that, my failed champion... you must die."

And then, the impossible happened.

As Poseidon readed himself for the killing strike that would wipe his horrible creation from existence, he felt a distinct feeling hit his chest like it had never hit before.

Pain. Something protuded out of his chest. Something so small, yet something so precise as to strike at just the right point. Poseidon looked down at the intrusion to his being, seeing that it was the sharpened bone snout of a common sword fish that had swam up to sacrifice itself. It now hung from within, fourteen feet across, splitting the God's unearthly heart through the center.

With eyes that dwindled life, Poseidon looked upon the fallen Orin with surprise, as Orin weakly managed to look back at him.

"Y-You?"

"...yes..."

And nothing more was to be said.

The God of the Seas fell to his death.

 

[trustyside-kick]

"He...he killed...Poseidon?"

Questions fill Ocean Master's mind as his the sheer number of them soon become to overwhelm him just as his emotions do. He had figured out how to kill a god. How to weaken them to make them vulnerable...he had a planned figured out on how to weaken Poseidon to the brink of bringing him to his knees before him...and yet Orin of Atlantis had struck the God of the Seas as though he were a mere man. At the Sea God's peak.

"He...killed Poseidon..."

Struck with immense fear, as Orm Marius looks off into the short distance to where his 'brother' stands on the sea floor...the same words utter from his lips over and over again. Looping as the words strike more and more fear into the villain as this happens. Even wounded...badly wounded...Aquaman had done what should be impossible. The former follower of Poseidon replays what had happened in his mind. Over and over again.

He can't make any sense of it. But somehow...the eldest of the Sea Gods...hell, one of the brothers of Zeus, had been slained by this being before him. And while he may have saved his life, as the Ocean Master starts to finally get a hold of himself it is rather anger that consumes him rather than fear. For his 'brother' had taken away his reward. His only...prior reason for living that he had come up with. It was his hands that the were to bring the Sea God's death.

And his 'brother' had stolen this chance from him. Preventing him the satisfaction of killing the one who had created him, looking him in the eye, and making it known that he would make a new purpose in life for him. Of his choosing.

...his 'brother' brought him life by killing Poseidon, but also great shame in that a debt is now owed. Word will spread of the slaying of Poseidon and it will not be the name Ocean Master that the Seven Seas will come to know in fear and awe...but rather Orin of Atlantis. Aquaman.

Summoning a portion of magical energies, Orm thinks of striking the hero down as he has his back turned to him. But as the hero finally looks his way, and gives him that look...for a brief moment the Ocean Master is frozen solid.

For he must not act foolishly when somehow Aquaman had just slain a fully empowered God. A most high God of Sea Gods. To keep what pride he has left of him, Orm lies to his 'brother', the reason for what he is about to do, as he now knows which spell to channel.

"You saved my life...brother...but do not mistake what I am about to do, as an act of gratitude. You are...injured...far worse than before with Poseidon's foolish interruption. So I would find little satisfaction in killing you...now. Oh, yes. For you have taken the one thing from me in which I desired. So...I shall bid you farewell, and pray that you do not die from your injuries so that I can finish you myself. The day will come...and I care not if it takes the rest of my days...I will rip the heart out of your chest, listen to its last few beats, and then crush it in the palm of hand."

The spell ready, magical energies of green and yellow hues start to spiral around the body of the Ocean Master.

"I am the Ocean Master, and this is I decree: forever shall that the two brothers of Atlantis fight, until left standing there is only you...or me."

In the next instant, the teleportation spell is cast, and Orm Marius is gone.

 

[Batman]

"Hh."

Weak and still groggy. The bats, they probably woke me. Only in a frenzy like this during their feeding hours. Told Alfred not to let me sleep past sundown, but part of me knew he wouldn't listen. It's been four days and three long, agonizing evenings since I had that initial clash with Dick. In the span of it all, I've been subject to a variety of unpleasantness. At least eighty seven stitches running up my right arm, across my torso, covered in sanitizing ointments and wrapped in bandages. The massive drainage of blood required a doner from Gotham General and a subsequent transfusion. Suffered some bruising and swelling all around. In Alfred's estimation, if I hadn't gotten through to the boy, I could very well have died. I only told him, with my only real reaction, to never tell Dick about this. He saw enough that night, and he's carried enough guilt since his father's death. I don't want this becoming yet another burden.

"Nngh... Alfred?"

Gone. But I can hear noises echoing out of the main part of the caves. He must be near, probably tending to the equipment while I was out. With a heavy sigh, I breathe in and grab both sides of the bed, weakly managing to lift myself out of it. It hurts, but I'm on enough painkillers to tell me that no matter how it does, it could always feel alot worse. Grabbing at the table next to me, the medical trays, I stumble up from the sheets and try and get to my feet. Only to fall over them, causing enough of a disturbance to catch Alfred's attention from the other room. Because in moments, he's rushed himself back here.

"Sir? Sir! What are you doing out of bed? I told you it wouldn't,"

Behind grit teeth, I simply lay there, feeling my limbs go numb. Must've been given more medicine than I thought.

"Just get me up."

He looks upon me with a droll smile.

"I quite prefer you in that position, honestly. Perhaps it'll teach you to heed my warnings."

"Funny."

"Well come on, then..."

Throwing my arm over his shoulder, he manages to get me back into a stand. I indicate the other part of the cave. Hesitant, he nevertheless guides me slowly towards the massive computer terminal that's waiting for me. He probably thinks I just want to rest in the chair. Fortunately, he's going to be disappointed.

"There we are."

I lean back in the chair and close my eyes, trying to fight off the exhaustion. Haven't been back out on the streets since that night. Haven't been doing much of anything. It's taken a physical toll on someone as active as I usually try to be.

"Can I get you something to drink, sir? Some food, perhaps? You'll need to build up your strength."

Shake my head, turning back towards the terminal.

"I'm fine. Really. That'll be all, Alfred."

"Of course. I simply wanted to..."

"That'll be all, Alfred."

Even though I can tell he doesn't like me on the terminal, considering he knows that I'm about to start my evening surviellience rounds, he simply gives a nod and heads in the other direction. Typing in the nessecary commands, I lean back as the screen becomes a hologram, directly uploading the Oracle network.

Good evening, Mr. Wayne. How can I be of service?

"Give me the live feed. Downtown Gotham."

Accessing...

In a matter of seconds, I'm treated to the street camera views of every corner of the city's financial district. Shopping season in the city, doesn't really help my nerves that it's at night with barely any patrolmen stationed. So far, everything looks quiet. With the screen still up, I hack into the camera for the East End, looking through the priority hotspots. Usually a mugging taking place, at best. A carjacking. Something small, but something I can make note of by the time I head out.

"Switch to thermal imaging. I need to..."

Incoming transmission.
Source: GothamTonight.net/livebroadcasts
Proceed?

With a moment of pause, I tap into the link and follow it through.

"Proceed."

What I expect to find is a generalized lineup of the current events that I might have missed. Figured it'd kill a few minutes while I set up the other live feeds. But what I actually find catches my attention immediately, given the headline. The image of Vicki Vale from the current broadcast inhabits the screen as I drag the image over the entire interface.

"-e're told that the situation first occurred a little under thirty minutes ago, as the customers of Snyder-Lark Savings & Loans were overtaken by a group of armed mercenaries that were led by escaped convict and former biochemist Karl Hellfern, who garnered the alias "Doctor Death" after being implicated in over a dozen attempted murders of former colleagues."

Hellfern's image graces the screen as I sneer back, remembering him well. He tried to kill a group of scientists working at the Gotham branch of Queen Industries' research lab two years ago. I managed to stop him, but not before he let loose a cloud of experimental vaporized toxins on two of the doctors. They didn't survive, though their families were compensated generously by Ollie's representatives. Death's been locked up in Blackgate Penetitentury since the attack, after the courts failed to prove any evidence of mental instability. But I didn't realize he had escaped.

"As you can see behind me, the situation has only escalated since Hellfern's original demands. Gotham City Police have blocked off the scene to pedestrians, but we're told that despite a heavy prescence, they're awaiting word from Commissioner Essen to make their move on the building. And with several hostages taken at the scene, it can only mean several hours of work ahead for Gotham's finest."

Turning her microphone towards a man in uniform that was standing off camera, I recognize him immediately as the face is given clear view. Captain Branden, of the tactical unit. One of the worst offenders in the corruption at Gotham Central.

"Captain, what is your department's progress in getting the hostages to safety? Are there plans for a SWAT strike to be made?"

"Miss Vale, all I can tell you is that if the freak's in there, we'll nab him."

"Can you be a little more clear than that?"

Branden stares back at the camera and flashes a grin. I almost feel myself becoming more disgusted as he does. With him put in charge of the situation, I don't expect anyone to survive. The hostages or the perpetrators. He's ruthless and willing to do whatever it takes for his long sought-after promotion. In other words, he's scum with no value whatsoever for human life.

"Let's just say that however this goes down, Gotham's gonna have this guy back in court by next month. I give you my-..."

Suddenly, the camera shifts and I hear gunshots. They all go for cover, with Branden noticably charging in and cursing up a storm, despite Vale's difficulty in avoiding the shots herself. Something he could have helped her with, but chose not to. Hiding her own contempt for the man, she turns her attention back towards camera.

"As you can see, hostilities are rising as Hellfern's demands place innocent lives in jeapordy. We'll be back with another development after these messages."

And then the feed stops.

Without a second's hesitation, I rise from the chair and make my way over towards the armory. Alfred arrives with a drink prepared, despite my insistences, just in time to see the look of determination on my face. And immediately, he places the drink to aside to try and intercept me.

"Where do you think you're heading off to?"

"I'm not having this discussion right now."

"You didn't answer my question. And if you think I'm going to indulge you with my silence, you've got another thing..."

"Alfred."

I look at him with narrowed eyes. Serious. Pleading.

"There's a hostage crisis in Gotham. Hellfern's making. Branden's leading the charge. If I don't go there now, there's a guarantee that people will die."

"And if you do go, there's a guarantee that you will die. You couldn't even stand a minute ago."

"The adrenaline shots upstairs will take care of that. If you'll get me them."

He practically looks offended at the suggestion.

"You cannot be serious."

"I just need to end this before it gets out of hand. After that, no more. I promise."

He struggles with his decision, but I'm already heading towards the door to the armory. My suit is damaged from the fight with Dick and there isn't a spare, so I'm going to have to use one of the previous models. I think I still have one that'll give me the sufficient protection, though the armor plates are exposed. I'll have to play it carefully, but I think I can manage it.

"Sir..."

"Alfred. I give you my word. This is the last time."

Without another word of protest from him, I depart to begin suiting up as he heads upstairs to grab the adrenaline. I may be weak and a little groggy. But that doesn't mean I'm too out of it to make Hellfern regret the day he escaped from prison.

After he's saved the hostages, Batman's coming for him.

 

[Byrd Man]

The gas mask clad robbers walked across the floor of the bank with their automatic weapons clenched in their fist. All told, there were eight of them watching the twenty hostages laying spread-eagle on the floor. While they kept order in the lobby, their employer stood at the bank vault door with a laptop. He tapped into the bank's camera feed and turned to look at the closest camera. He knew that the eyes of the police, media...and other parties, would be watching.

"People of Gotham," his deep, digitally distorted voice echoed though the bank. "Me and my associates have fed well on this bank, taking over ten million dollars for our own needs...but it is not enough. As you can see, me and my employees are wearing gas masks. This is for a reason. If the ctiy of Gotham does not deliver ten million dollars in cash to the bank in forty-five minutes, then I will activate the canisters of mustard gas I have in my possession. We will be fine, but the hostages? Not so much. You now have forty-four minutes and fifteen seconds to comply."

With that, Doctor Death pressed the button on his laptop and camera feed was cut off, blanketing the monitor in snowy white static.

 

[Andy C.]

"Donna, I'm sorry," I say wearily as the invisible jet I had stolen from the CIA cruises through the clouds. "I'm afraid I made a terrible mistake in taking you with me."

"What do you mean?" Donna says, a tinge of hurt in her voice. "I thought we needed to discover what's behind our bond, to find a place for me. Are you saying you don't want that anymore?"

"That's not what I meant," I say, backtracking. "I thought I would be able to protect you better than the CIA could. I wanted to give you a chance to choose your own destiny. And within the same day, you get shot. I'm afraid I've brought you into a world far more dangerous than either of us was prepared for."

Donna glances down at the wound in her leg, and while my colleagues in the Justice League were able to prevent any permanent damage, it's clearly still painful.

"Diana," she says, "As much as I liked Etta Candy and Terry Long, they weren't my family. That facility wasn't my home. And their training regimen wasn't a life. Their superiors wanted to make me a soldier, a weapon. You gave me the chance to be whatever I want to be."

"But the danger--"

"Will always be there," she interrupts me. "If there's one thing I've learned from this, it's that there are no safe places in this world, at least not for people like us. So it's best to face that danger in your own way, and make the best out of whatever you've got."

I smile, and I think of traveling across the country with Corporal Trevor, when we were on the run from Kobra. It was desperate and frightening and always dangerous, but we made the best of it whenever we could.

Steve would have liked Donna, I think.

"And we still don't know what exactly it is that connects us, why our powers get so much stronger when we're nearby. I don't know anything about my past, about who I am.....about what I am."

As she favors the wound, one of her hands moves to touch the silver gauntlets on her wrists.

"Until we find out for certain, I think Wonder Girl is who and what I want to be."


------------


Not long later, the plane sets down in Happy Harbor once again. We find sleeping quarters for Donna, and a separate room for myself. Exhausted and bruised, I finally relinquish the power of the Gods in what feels like ages.

It isn't Wonder Woman who lies down in bed, bearing scars from battles with Cheetah and the CIA and even Superman himself......but Diana Prince, a woman whose whole world continues to turn upside-down. On the run for months, no contact with my family, my lover and sole confidant murdered, and now a girl in my life that I have to protect and raise as a surrogate daughter.

It's so much easier to just put my life aside, focus on whatever threat or villain I have to fight at the current moment, than actually face how much my life has changed since becoming Wonder Woman, to realize how much I've lost and can never get back.

Still, it's not something I can just throw away. People are counting on me. The whole world is counting on me. And now Donna Troy is counting on me, too. Which means I can't make any more mistakes like today. Powers of the Gods or not, I'm going to have to be a hero for her.

Worn out physically and drained mentally, I finally pass into sleep.......

....and once again, I see the Gods.




"You have found a part of yourself," they say, thousands of voices in languages both contemporary and long-dead, yet still all one voice. "The girl is only the first of many, the lost pieces of what you were meant to be. You must find them, and become whole again......"

 

[Batman]

"You now have forty-four minutes and fifteen seconds to comply."

All the time I need.

I swing in high above the building adjacent to the bank and glide into a land, allowing a moment for Oracle to imprint a digital scan of the heat signatures in the surrounding area. With the Batmobile, it took me less than fifteen minutes to travel from the cave to the city's financial district, and Hellfern's message to the public has been on a constant loop in Gotham Square for five. Gives me at least a thirty-eight minute advantage, but it shouldn't require twenty to clear the building. Provided that he's even willing to spare the hostages for that long. Normally, I'd be confident about it, but Hellfern's tenacity is different from what I remember about him. This crisis is evidence enough to tell me that he's not taking any chances with his demands - he wants that money and he's determined to do whatever it takes to get it. Even if it means killing everyone in the building.

Heat signatures develop fast. In total, there are nine hostiles roaming the lobby of the building. Ventilation shafts give me easy access, but I'm not sure whether I should risk discovery. Might be easier to crack a window on the top floor. Remotely disable the alarms, sneak my way in through the stairs. There's no shortage of hostages to consider, with Oracle picking up at least twenty non-hostile signatures in the area. For that reason alone, the situation is particularly grim. I'll have to be careful about it. Any mistakes in my approach could mean life or death.

"I assume you're uplinked to the comm, Alfred."

"Where else would I be, sir?"

"I'm looking at a readout of Hellfern's assailants. Nine against twenty, automatic weapons."

"I would have assumed as much for ones so desperate for such a large payoff. What do you require from my end?"

"Oracle's database inqueries for Hellfern himself. Pull up everything you can from news archives and prison records at Blackgate. I want to know just how he escaped. So I can make him reconsider another attempt."

"It may take some time, but I'll try and look into everything that I can."

Without another second's hesitation, I grab the grapnel out of the back of my belt and fire towards the building.

"Time isn't something that we have."

Disconnecting the communications, I zipline up to the roof of the bank and immediately burn through the roof access lock with the mini-torch, disabling any alarms remotely with an encryption. Have to subdue any of my desires to confront Hellfern head-on, because he could easily instruct his men to start picking off the bystanders at first sight. Oracle shows me that the ninth hostile is near the vault, a few feet away from the others. It has to be him. None of them ever stick particularly close to their hired help, particularly during an operation like this. Opening the door, I breathe in a quiet sigh to calm my nerves. Here goes nothing.

Deciding on the appropriate strategy at last, I grab a handful of smoke grenades from my belt and pump them into a quick-dispersal canon. Ventilation runs through every floor, and every room, leading up to the manager's office. Picking the lock to that room as soon as I glide down the first flight of stairs, I switch to thermal lenses to avoid the trip points leading to other failsafe security measures. I'm out to scare them, but only on my terms. One of the bank alarms going off would make the situation needlessly unpredictable. Prying open a shaft, I insert the dispersal canon and time it for one minute. If it takes me that long to make it down to the lobby, then frankly, I deserve to fail.

"How is that intel coming?"

"Beyond a psychological profile conducted from the trial by Mr. Todd, which ultimately proved ineffectual, information is quite scarce. The most I can send you comes from his processing records at Blackgate, following his sentencing."

"At this point, anything would be useful."

Now comes the hard part. Sneaking into the lobby without tipping off any of the armed goons that "Doctor Death" has making the rounds. Were it anything else that I'd be required to pull off, I'd be more worried about the execution. But stealth?

Stealth is my specialty.

 

[Byrd Man]

"Where is he?" One of the hired men asked Doctor Death.

"He won't disappoint," was the Doctor's stern reply. "Maintain silence. That's an order."

Before the Doctor could turn back to the bank vault, a hissing noise filled the bank. Smoke began to pour out of the vents and coat the lobby in the thick smoke.

"Right on time."

The Doctor pulled a machine pistol from the small of his back and cocked it. Through the sounds of the smoke, he could hear the sounds of struggle, followed by a quick burst of gunfire. The black figure leaped through the darkness at the Doctor and pressed him against the wall.

The Batman looked at the Doctor with a sneer of contempt, pressing him to the wall with one arm and knocking the machine pistol out of the Doctor's hand with the other arm. Suddenly, the Dark Knight pulled up short.

"This is wrong."


The smoke in the lobby began to disperse and the Doctor smiled from under his mask at what was waiting behind Batman.

"You ain't just whistlin' dixie."

Batman turned to look and instantly let go of the Doctor. In front of him, the beaten bank robbers and the hostages all had pistols, shotguns, and automatic weapons in their hands. And all the guns were pointed at him.

"It's my duty to inform you," the Doctor said as he pulled a pistol from his shoulder holster with one hand and removed his gas mask with the other hand.

"You're under arrest, Batman."

 

[Batman]

Nygma?!

It was a setup.

The hostage crisis, Dr. Death's "warning" to Gotham, it was all manufactured by Nygma's tactical unit after trying so many other methods to get to me. I knew it wasn't Hellfern whenever Alfred's intel finally went through, feeding me an uploaded file of his physical and mental statistics. Hellfern is five feet, four inches tall. Through Oracle's scan, I realized that his stand-in was 6'1. But looking back at all of the barrels aimed directly at me, the safety pins and slides being clicked off to warn me of their lethality, I have to admit - even when I knew it was a trick, I would have never guessed that anyone working in the GCPD played a role in this. I considerably, perhaps even fatally, underestimated their ingenuity. And the worst part is that I can't even immediately see a way out of it.

The barrel of Nygma's sidearm presses against the back of my cowl. The tension in the room is evident, but his drive to make this arrest happen is the most clear of all. I had thought, after all that we'd been through - especially considering that I had risked my life to save his twice before, that he'd at least give me the benefit of the doubt. But ever since this "Batman Task Force" was established, he's seemed to be nothing if not relentless in his pursuit to bring me in. And I seriously doubt that it's for appearances' sake. No matter how you analyze the matter, it seems our partnership is over. I've been betrayed.

"Nygma,"

I turn back and give him a look of disapproval. Nothing else needs to be said. He knows exactly where we stand from this point on.

"I hope it was worth it."

With the doors sealed off and a crowd of press and police waiting outside, the only way out of this room is to fight my way back to the top. So without warning, I oblige the notion by driving my elbow into the bridge of Nygma's nose hard enough to break it. The others try and shoot, but my other hand whips out a series of flash grenades that scatter into the air. With them momentarily blinded, and a couple even misfiring, I make my move and dive across the floor of the lobby, firing my grapnel at the nearest one's weapon. It takes and ensnares it, allowing me to pull it from his grip and engage the "hostage" head-on with a jab to the throat and a vaulting knee to the face.

Knowing that the flash grenades only incapacitate targets for a span of twenty seconds, I feverishly jam my left hand into the side pocket of my belt and apply other irritants. Mace, tear gas, electrified trip mines. Anything to keep them off of my trail as I try and attempt an escape. A couple of them recover and begin firing immediately, grazing the wall behind me as I duck for cover, using a teller's counter as a shield. Sliding under the lobby's podium, I slam my back against it and produce three batarangs, tossing them blindly into the room and hoping that they hit the firearms. Two of them do. The other smacks another officer across the face, sending him to his feet.

The roof, Bruce. Need to get back to the roof.

Taking a chance, I make a break for the stairway access to the upper floors and dive, feeling the bottom half of my cape torn to shreads by retaliation gunfire. Even if I manage to make it to the upper floors, this is going to be unimaginably difficult to escape. I tap my gauntlet and hit the command keys for The Batmobile's auto-pilot. That should reroute the car's sensors to lock onto the beacon in my suit, bringing it to me within the next few minutes.

I just have to stay alive that long.

 

[Byrd Man]

"Gahdambit," I holler out as I hold my nose in pain. I take my walkie-talkie out with my free hand and contact Branden.

"Batman's trying to make a run for it. Get your teams ready."

"Everyone's in place sir. Teams are in position on the roof and the front and back exit."

"Bring in your team from the front, we need back-up."

"Yes, sir!"

The doors into the bank fly open and Branden leads his twelve armed tactical officers into the lobby.

"Spread out! Everybody in teams of two or three. Remember shoot to wound. Shoot to wound, Branden. You hear that?!"

I pick my gun up off the ground and look around.

"Let's move."

 

[Batman]

Pinned against the wall. That's the best I can describe situations like this.

By the time I've made it to the fifth floor of the building, I've been forced to reconsider my strategy of escape. Another floor up and I would have been able to exit the exact way that I came in. Except now, according to my thermal interface in the cowl, there's an immediate danger in place of what was a seemingly quiet and inconspicuous roof access entrance - I can now see seven or eight heavily armored members of the city's SWAT unit invading the space that I nearly walked into blind. They're likely anticipating my arrival after I made a quick vault for the stairs on the lower floor, but the longer that I hesitate, the more tempted they might be to breach the building and begin a search out of impatience. With Nygma leading the charge, I wouldn't doubt it. Nevertheless, have to play this safer than usual. Bide my time until I can figure out the best way to avoid another fight and escape in the chaos they're creating. Unless I'm wrong, and the circumstances leave me with no other alternative.

In a truly brief moment, I can't help wonder who'd benefit from that outcome more.

So as not to alert any oncoming squads of my prescence, I kick open a nearby office door and leap into the room with a roll, scoping out any possible hiding places that would allow me a moment to breathe. I've seen a side of war that none of these idiots have experienced, and the exposure to such hostile terrain has left me prepared for worse. Yet only the most conventional methods leave me with the best way to map out a new strategy. Deciding on the obvious choice of a manager's desk, I slide beneath it and pin a small sensory beacon to the opposite angle. Keeps me ready to move incase the SWAT teams get too close. Quite literally left to my own devices, I unfasten the shell of my belt's buckle and produce a 4-inch monitor to jack into my gauntlet. It allows me to send text commands to Oracle whenever I'm unable to compromise stealth.

Oracle. Remote access. Disable all power to 250 and 3rd on Churchyard Drive. Continuous.

Processing Request. Enabling Protocol. Remote Access Granted.

In the blink of an eye, the entire building goes dark. And for a moment, I let a small smirk cross my lips. But it's all interrupted by the rude awakening that I'm given with a flash of blinding light enters through the windows, nearly causing me to falter as I quickly switch the thermal lenses back to their basic configuration. Slipping out from under cover, a move I already regret, I peel back the window's shades and stare out at the streets below. The police have utilized a series of searchlights all around the building. They've practically got the entire grounds illuminated.

Great. And just when I was hoping this would get a little easier.

"Screw this, he's not coming! Must've jacked a window! Bravo four, this is unit twelve. We're going in, repeat, we're going in!"

Now I know why Alfred hates it when I'm right.

Realizing that it'd be a futile attempt to try and reclaim my hiding spot from earlier, I simply run over to the opposite side of the room and press myself against the wall, listening to the faint trotting of footsteps outside as the unit on the roof barges their way in. I can also hear Nygma and Branden arguing it out on the stairs, getting closer to this floor with every passing second. I'd attempt an escape through the window, as that other officer inadvertendly suggested, but there's a problem with that aswell. With the lights in place, and without thermals and nightvision to rely on because of them, I can't spot any potential snipers on the buildings surrounding me. If I try and zipline, I could easily be taken down.

Damn it. I knew I'd have to resort to this. I just hoped to myself that maybe I was wrong. But past experience should tell me to know better than that - it's never that simple. Contrary to any semblance of common sense, I have to fight my way out of this building. Put myself against over thirty highly trained officers of Gotham's police, a few of them even boasting military records and firearm precision. None of the odds tell me that I stand even a chance of survival, much less avoiding capture. But there's no choice left. They're closing in from all sides. And the only way to control the situation is to throw myself in harm's way.

If this is how it ends. If this is how I even die.

Then to hell with the odds.

"Hey, did you guys hear that? That noise, it sounded like it was coming from..."

Kicking open the door as they approach, I go in fast with an immediate charge. The first one tries to fire his semi-automatic, but I cut off his efforts with a well placed precision kick to the chest, following it up with a heel kick to the knee. He buckles under the pressure and I grab his weapon, slamming the base of it into the next one's chin, the only visible area to exploit under all the gear. She goes down, misfiring a few bullets into the ceiling. Only the subsequent dust seperates us as I leap in with a thrusting scissor kick, knocking the next into the wall. But I'm caught off guard as two of them rush me, slamming me headfirst into the wall and driving hard kicks and punches into my body as I try to recover.

"Take him! Rush him down, now!"

With the adrenaline in my system being the only source of energy left, it feels like hell, but it doesn't matter. I take it all, every single blow that they can manage, until I see the first availible opening to me for a counter strike. It comes to me just as the unit's captain pushes them all aside to make a strike of his own, as retaliation for his wounded knee. Grabbing it as it comes, I muster as much strength as I can and twist, snapping it to a successful result. He drops to the ground screaming as I leap up to my feet and grab the first two by their helmets, slamming them together hard enough to crack the visors. Growling at the others, I begin to work into them aswell, just as Nygma's unit makes it to the scene.

If they want me. They're gonna have to do better than that.