The New Ultimate DC RPG

[Saved]

So, my name's Barbara Gordon. Straight 'A' student and daughter of Gotham Police's Commissioner. So what am I doing on a school night? I'm at a party, what else?

The car pulls up to the house slowly, cautiously coming to a halt on the side of the street. As my friend puts the car into park I eagerly open the door and jump out the door. As my friends exit the car I laugh - even from out here, I can feel the music on my skin. Wow, that's loud.

"Figures," Amy says as she runs up next to me. "Babs is the first one out of the car."
"The way Dawn was driving?" I scoff. "You couldn't get me out of the car faster."
"Oh, 'haha'." She says, locking the car with her remote. "You're a riot."
"You think the cops'll get called?"
"Either way, I've got immunity." I say proudly.
"Yeah, but don't you wanna get away from your dad?" I frown slightly, irritated by her question.
"I just want to live it up, Amy." I say, walking forward toward the house. "So either leave or follow my lead." I catch them shrug out of the corner of my eye. They don't understand, but I don't expect them too. It's no body's business but mine, anyway.

I reach the door and ring the bell, waiting impatiently for someone to answer. I should just walk in, but, that's not polite. As the door opens before me, Amy and Dawn catch up. The boy who opens the door stares at me for a moment, examining me closely. After a few moments of awkward silence, I throw on the "charm" and decide to move things along. "Hey there," I say in an inviting tone.

"...hey," he says, trying to get with the conversation.
"You gonna let us in, or are you going to let us freeze out here?" I ask him with a grin. He laughs, embarrassed, and holds the door open for us to enter.
"Heh, yeah, sure come on in." He stammers. He's nervous. Cute, but it gets old really fast.
"Thanks, handsome." I tell him in passing. Dawn and Amy laugh as they follow. I can only imagine how red his cheeks are right now. Poor kid.

As we move into the congealed mass of people dancing, my friends run up behind me with wide grins on their face. "Babs, that was brutal."
"What?" I say indifferently.
"You embarrassed the hell out of that guy."
"Look, if he's gonna stare at me instead of talking to me like a normal human being, then any collateral damage he might ensure is his fault."
"Wow, Barb," Amy says with a laugh. "You're ruthless."

As we make our way to the center of the crowd, the song dies down and the crowd takes a moment to breath. In no time, the next song cues up and begins to play. The crowd moves right back into the rhythm, and the song picks up speed. The speakers boom loudly, the ground thumping like a heart beat as the music plays. I begin to dance, moving to the beat of the song. Amy and Dawn get lost in the crowd as the song plays, leaving me alone.

As I continue to move, I suddenly feel a body rub up against me from behind. I look over my shoulder to see a handsome guy beginning to dance with me. I shoot him an alluring smile, an invitation of sorts. He places his hands on my hips and we begin to dance together, moving as one amongst the thick crowd. "I'm Neil," he says in my ear, shouting slightly to be heard over the music. "Neil Stirk."

"I'm Barbara," I tell him, going lower and lower as the dance continues. "You can call me Babs," I tell him as he keeps up with me rather well. As we continue to move I see Amy come into view through the sea of faces. She looks at me, then to Neil, watching us dance. She gives me a wink and I nod back to her. Yeah, I definitely found what I was looking for. Fun.

"Hey," Neil says to me, his mouth close to my ear as he speaks. "Haven't I seen you around school?"
"Gotham Heights?" I ask him, my voice surprisingly loud.
"Ha, yeah." He says with a smile. "You have Mr. Grant for Physics, right?"
"Yeah, I do." I say with a grin. "Funny, I never saw you in there before."
"I tend to blend in the crowd." He smirks.
"Well, you're sticking out now." I say with a laugh.
"When I want to, I can be very hard to miss."
"Wow, pretty and humble," I tell him sarcastically.

"Hey, it's a gift." We both laugh, enjoying the moment for all it's worth. Nice guy. At least he's not cowering in fear. "By the way," he starts, striking up the conversation. "Do you know Alison?"
"Who?"
"The girl who threw this party." He says with a chuckle. "Guess that answers my question, huh?"
"Oh, yeah." I say, turning around to face him without breaking my dance. "I've seen her around school. Talked to her a few times. It's whatever."

The music begins to lull and the song soon comes to an end. Just as before, the crowd slows to a halt and takes a moment to breath. As the next song begins to start, the music raises and the sound gets louder. I stare at Neil, giving him a permiscuous look. "Another?" I ask.
"You bet." He smiles. We move together once again and continue to dance, never breaking - nor tiring. Glad I came, turned out to be an eventful night.

As I look to my watch I notice the time. Eleven fourty-eight. I have curfew in twelve minutes. Oh well. I'll get home when I get home. After all, if I need to sleep, geometry is perfect to grab some 'z's. Live in the moment, I'm having a great time. Why ruin it?

 

[Catman_prb]

"I thought I should come down and give you a quick status report," I explain as I pull up a chair at his desk. "Although, I gotta tell you: things have been quiet lately."​

Gordon rolled his eyes. Exactly what he needed right now; Selina Kyle the world's most self involved woman. He understood the pressure that came with being an undercover operative, but where was the need to be such an ice cold *****. And if she was so deep cover, she shouldn't be coming into HIS police station and giving the game away. Nonetheless he put on his warmest smile.

"Yeah well, that just means that Maroni's upto something, and I wouldn't like to wait until the last minute to find out what it is," he said, stubbing the cigarette out on the ash-tray.

"Of course, while Maroni's quiet, this Black Mask prick is running riot around the city. Looks like he's hired some goon to send me a message I won't forget," the police chief said, before looking up at Kyle and gesturing with his hand.

"Come on then, make your report,"

 

[Belvedere]

Spoiler

Two weeks ago

John Peterson is an immoral man. Last Tuesday he paid an under aged rent boy to ******e him whilst driving around Gotham City in his limousine. His wife was sat at home worrying about the whereabouts of her teenage son Stephen Peterson and tried to contact her husband several times, to which he scoffed and simply pressed the “Ignore” button on his cell phone. He has been a board member of Scott Enterprise for almost twelve years and to this very day he has felt undervalued, the senile old owner Alan Scott had barely spoken a word to him during this time let alone acknowledged Peterson’s accomplishments. Today was the day that John Peterson would finally get his own back, today was the day that Alan Scott was going to be ousted from the company and he would assume the position of CEO.

The boardroom was more tense than usual. Each of the members bar Scott and his thug of an associate Ted Grant, who seemed to refuse to grow old respectfully, knew that this would be Alan Scott’s final meeting. Despite the fact Scott’s tenure had lasted almost half a century he had not amassed many allies on the board, he had made few friends in his life due in part to the post traumatic stress disorder he had developed after the crash of the first “Scott Express” all those years ago. Andreas Schott – “Alan Scott” as he was known to the public – was the public face of the company after all and despite the fact he was extremely introverted the people of Gotham City had never forgotten the day he had saved countless lives.

John Peterson made his way through the itinerary until he reached the bottom and silence fell around the room, people shuffled in their chairs in anticipation and chewed their nails nervously. John on the other hand smiled slightly as he realised this was the moment he had been waiting for, the unreachable star had been reached, he stood up from his chair and cleared his throat as insincerely as possible.

“The board has decided that today will go down in history as a turning point in the history for Scott Enterprise. Today will be the day that we elevate you to CEO Emeritus and we thank you for your invaluable contribution to Scott Enterprise over the year. We believe that due to your age and wavering health that you would be better served as an ambassador for the company worldwide, thus forth you shall be allowed some well earned time to relax and live out your life as comfortably as possible. I would very much appreciate if you would all join me in a round of applause for Mr Scott and his contri-“

​

Throughout the speech Alan had remained impassive to Peterson’s attempts at “letting him down gently”, which despite the kind words were laced with contempt, however Scott’s best friend was finding swallowing what John had to say slightly more difficult.

“Screw your round of applause… you’re trying to muscle Al out? He built this company from the ground up!” he roared at the top of his voice.

Alan sighed and placed his hand on the shoulder of his lifelong friend and muttered quietly.“That’s more than enough Teddy…” smiling as he did so, Scott picked up his green jacket from the back of his chair and put it on, moving towards the door as he did so. He motioned towards the door to Grant and his behemoth of an associate made his way out of the room, Alan glanced round the room one last time before waving to the rather shocked board members with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I guess this is goodbye then.”

One week ago

John Peterson floats around the room with a very wide smile on his face. Recently he got his teeth whitened and he intends to show them off now that he was acting CEO of Scott Enterprise, once again he was ******ed by his under aged rent boy on the way to the party. Today they would drink champagne and tell anecdotes about Alan Scott to thank him for his contributions to Scott Enterprise over the past half century or so. Ted Grant looks out of place in his ill-fitting and tight suit, by himself he stands and takes a sip out of a flask he prepared himself despite the free champagne on offer.

“This is ****ing horrendous…” he mutters to Alan, who smiles sincerely for the first time in a long while; there’s a reason that Ted Grant is his best friend, despite the huge fortune that Alan had amassed over the years Ted has remained exactly the same as the day they had met. Despite Ted’s relative wealth he often visited the Narrows, where both he and Alan grew up, to remind himself of his roots.

“I’m starting to think you’re only happy when you’ve got something to complain about old friend.” Alan said as he nudged his friend in the ribs. It was uplifting for Ted to see Alan joking around, which he rarely did, especially given the circumstance.

“Yeah well it’s only going to get worse… that smug little snake who stole the company out from underneath you is coming over.”

Peterson approached Scott with open arms and embraced the elderly man in a way that one would a friend of many years, which was inappropriate given their less than friendly relationship and Scott’s frail figure.

“How are you? You old dog…”

Today

“Leave.”

The teenaged boy between John Peterson’s legs screamed at the sight of the flying man and leapt from the limousine, the driver who served as Peterson’s bodyguard also was elevated high above the roofless limousine in an emerald bubble. Peterson’s unknown attacker lifted Peterson by his lapels and flew high into the sky; Peterson kicked his feet around violent and screamed in terror, he felt the warm yellow liquid make its way down his trouser leg and he wept like he had never wept in his life.

His attacker smiled upon realising what a pathetic husk he had reduced Peterson to.

“You tried to take my company from me…”

Suddenly John realised that the blonde haired man who had torn the roof off of his limousine as if it was made of aluminium was none other than Alan Scott himself. Scott laughed as he saw the man struggle with that nugget of information; how could it be possible? How could an eighty year old man be possible of this? There wasn’t a single wrinkle upon Alan Scott’s face, he moved with renewed vigour and passion unlike that which Peterson had ever seen from him…

He was terrifying.

​

“That was a mistake."

Alan Scott lands upon his balcony with a growl. He can feel his heart beating like a caged animal inside his chest and the blood being pumped around his body at an unimaginable pace. Just as he has done every single time Alan threw off the guise of his elderly self Scott marvelled at his reflection in the windows of the French doors. He raises his hands and runs it through his wrinkle free skin and caresses his thick, golden blonde hair with a smile. From inside the bedroom he notices movement and suddenly the bright green light that Scott exuded was dimmed, his muscular body was transformed into that of a frail old man with white hair.

“Is someone out there? I’ve got a weap-” his wife Rose began feebly, his wife’s attempts to sound threatening were almost laughable. He watched as she reached her way through the darkness and unlocked the French doors, stepping out of the bedroom in her dressing gown.

“It’s only me dear, no need to bludgeon me to death with your straighteners.”

Alan Scott chuckled as he prised the straighteners from his wife’s weak grip and pointed them at her mockingly, the only damage those things had done to anyone was the odd burn to the ear.

“What are you doing out here? I didn’t even know you’d got back!” Rose was clearly annoyed that her husband had been out so long, she didn’t care to ask him where he had been though; she had learned long ago that her husband had done a number of questionable things in his time to ensure his business prospered and their comfortable life could be afforded.

“I’ve been back for a while now, I just wanted a little bit of fresh air I guess, it’s not often I get to have time to think like this.”

Despite the fact he was lying through his teeth there was an essence of truth to the statement that Scott made, which he only realised after he had made it; he rarely got to spend much time to think, he wasn’t allowed the luxury of private moments. He shrugged his shoulders and accepted that this was merely a cost of doing business, all but ignoring what his wife said next.

“Oh right… do you want me to leave you to it then? I’m sorry. You’ve got a lot of stress on you right now and need to thi-”

Alan stared out at the night’s sky. It was weird to think that only moments ago he had been soaring through the clouds in his youthful body, now he was stuck in this lifeless, tired one. For every hour he spent as the Caped Crusader, there were thousands, upon thousands spent as Alan Scott.

“Go back to bed.”

The next day

Banging on the front door woke Rose Scott from her slumber, when she opened the door Ted Grant swept past her quickly with a newspaper in hand and made his onto the bedroom balcony, which Alan could always be found on.

“You won’t believe what happened last night.”

Ted Grant said with a broad smile as he fought for air. The run up the Scott’s lengthy drive had taken more out of him than he’d expected, but nonetheless the news he was delivering was worth the cramp.

“Surprise me…” Alan muttered, half expecting Grant to produce another nonstory about how the Scott marriage was failing or how he’d contracted skin cancer.

“John Peterson was murdered by the Green Menace.”

Ted slammed the newspaper on the table in front of Alan Scott and pointed at the picture of Peterson’s body lying on the floor of an alleyway, his neck was twisted at an unnatural angle; in any other city this would have been far too disturbing to make the first page, but this was Gotham City after all.

“What on Earth is the Green Menace?”

Alan Scott cocked one of his grey eyebrows slightly and tried his best to feign confusion, he knew exactly who Grant and the newspaper were talking about; he hadn’t really thought about giving himself a name yet, it would seem that GothamCity’s media had taken that decision out of his hands.

“Some freak who’s been flying around Gotham City for the past few weeks offing people, not sure whose side he’s on yet… but you wouldn’t call yourself the Green Menace if you were a good guy would you?”

The word ‘freak’ cut Alan like a knife, he cringed slightly at Ted’s use of it, but realised that given the opportunity Grant would be out there cleaning the streets like Scott had been during every free moment he could find. His growing media presence on the other hand brought a smile to Scott’s face, it would appear that Gotham had finally decided to stand up and take notice.

“I don’t know… I think it’s got a bit of a ring to it.”

A few hours later

A rather round looking woman stood up from one of the seat’s and lifted a ready prepared statement. Scott was confident he knew what that piece of paper said, the board would not have requested he be present otherwise, he couldn’t help but feel slightly smug.

“Given the unexpectedness of Mr Peterson’s parting the board has decided that it’s in the best interest of Scott Enterprise if Mr Scott is returned to his former position, on a temporary basis, until another candidate for the position can be found.”

The podgy woman, a mother of three, returned to her seat and the board sat awkwardly and waited for a response from Alan. Purposely Scott allowed the silence to drag out, he wanted to watch the Judases that had stabbed him in the back squirm, and without him they would be adrift in a storm of discontent. This knowledge gave the elderly billionaire even more power than he usually possessed and if there were one thing that Alan Scott enjoyed… well, it was power.

“I think I represent us all when I say our utmost condolences are extended to the Peterson family. Our new conference room will be named after the late John Peterson and a special plaque be placed above the door, so that we shall never forget this tragedy. Now, if you would all like to join me in a round of applause in acknowledgement of the contributions and accomplishments that John made over the years for Scott Enterprise.”

Throughout Alan did his best to mirror the tone that Peterson had taken whilst addressing him a few weeks prior. It was a subtle sign of disrespect that few in the room would have picked up on if any, but Ted Grant smiled widely and struggled to fight back the laughter upon realization of it. Grant looked around at the members of the board and each of their faces spoke a thousand words; some were embarrassed, others were ashamed, some looked disappointed but more than that they all looked humbled. Defeated.

“Now, moving onto something slightly more important, would the board prefer stationary chairs or chairs with wheels in our new conference room?”

The last dig was a little less subtle Alan admitted, but… well… he’d never been a very good winner and he didn’t intend to start any time soon.

 

[Saved]

Next to the door is a shelf holding a manila envelope. Jason takes the envelope and nods to Crane, confirming their preparation. He opens the door and steps inside, holding the door for Crane to enter behind him.

Inside the room a guard stands at the far corner, standing at ease, yet on high alert. In the center of the room is a table with two chairs on opposite sides. In one of the chairs a man sits, his wrists handcuffed to the table. The man wears bright white clothes with a series of numbers in bold black over the chest. He stares at Todd and Crane evilly, his eyes focused on them, following them closely. The man's left eye is surrounded by a ring of black and blue coloring. His eyeball protrudes slightly from his head, the tissue beneath swollen. Jason stares back at the man for a moment, struggling to hide a smirk on his face. He's proud of his handy work. Very proud.

"Well, Doctor Crane, there appear to be no more chairs. I'm afraid you'll have to stand. That alright?" Crane nods and moves to the front of the room, leaning comfortably on the wall. Jason steps forward and takes a seat in the open chair in front of the inmate. He places the file on the table and opens it, pulling out various documents and placing them in plain sight.

"Alright, Drury Walker." He begins, reading off the information on the paper as if it's the first time he's seen it. "Apprehended by Gotham PD late last night. Found unconscious, bound in a tight cord inside Kane's Jewelry store with a sack of stolen goods and a sawed off shotgun. Walker was found wearing a mask resembling that of a moth. Also found dressed in a colorful outfit with...wings." Todd looks up from the file and stares at Walker with a strange expression. "Police confirmed these 'attachments' had no flight capability and were purely aesthetic. Charged with breaking and entering, possession of an illegal firearm, and burglary." Todd throws the papers down on the table and leans back in the chair, staring intently at Walker. "I miss anything?" He asks with a sardonic tone. Walker sneers, his anger seething.

"You left out the part where that prick Red Hood gave me this!" He shouts, pointing to his eye.
"Red Hood...?" Jason says in a playful voice.
"That vigilante, you know who I'm talkin' about."
"The...Bat-Man?" Todd says, continuing the farce.
"NO!" He yells, his temper getting the best of him. "That other FREAK with the red mask and piss poor attitude."
"I'd watch who we call a 'freak', Drury. You were dressed as a moth last night."
"You're all the same." He says with a frown. "You all think I'm a nut-job, meantime you glorify these vigilantes who are just as bad if not worse than us."

"Alright, Drury, that's an interesting noun. Who's 'us'?"
"Us? You know, us. The crooks, thieves. Eccentrics in masks."
"Well, that's an interesting way to describe it. Eccentric. Why do you call it that."
"Come on, doc," he says with a grin. "You gonna sit there and tell me it's normal to play dress up? It's a gimmick. Something catchy, you know, like a commercial tune or a kids show theme song. It's meant to insight emotions, give some kind of credit. That way, everyone knows who you are, what you are. ... and what you can do."
"And what are you, Drury?" Jason asks, his tone polite.

"I'm Killer Moth," he says proudly.
"Killer. Does that mean you commit murder?"
"Means I'm not afraid to." He responds quickly. "Why, that 'crazy'?"
"Well, having the inclination to take a life isn't normal, Drury. But I wouldn't say you're crazy." Todd takes a moment to breath, a quick pause to think. "Alright, I'm going to ask you a few questions, Drury, okay?"
"Fine," he says, folding his hands on the table.

"When you become 'Killer Moth', and put that mask and costume on, do you feel like a different person?"
"No." He says blankly. "I'm me, just in disguise."
"Okay. Do you hear voices that compell you to become Killer Moth?"
"No." He growls, beginning to become annoyed. "I told you, it's simply a costume to hide my identity."
"Do you...sometimes, feel depressed? Like you don't want to live anymore?"
"You askin' if I'm suicidal?" He grunts. "No, I'm not."
"Do you feel at times like your perfectly calm and then, for no reason, explode into a fit of mania or rage?"
"No." He growls, his fingers beginning to ball tightly into fists.

"Do you feel the need to talk about yourself constantly? To have yourself as the center of attention at all times?"
"No, doc. And to whatever you're gonna ask next? No. And after that? NO. I'm NOT crazy, 'kay? GET IT?" He snarls. Jason nods, a grin forming at the corners of his mouth.
"Oh, I get it, Mister Walker." He says calmly, pulling the papers on the table back together and putting them in the envelope. He rises from the chair, holding the envelope tightly in his hand. "Have fun in Blackgate," he whispers subtly under his breath. "Alright, my analysis is complete. Guard, feel free to transport him back to his room." Jason walks toward the door, nodding to Crane as he passes by. Crane follows, and the two head for the exit. As Jason opens the door, Drury calls out to him, a malicious look on his face.

"Hey, doc!" He shouts, catching his attention. Jason turns back to the patient, watching him closely.
"Yes, Mister Walker?"
"You know what I said about killin'?" Jason nods. "And 'cred?" Again, Todd nods. "When I get out? I think I'm gonna earn some 'cred at your expense." He smiles wide, instantly falling into laughter. Todd frowns, wishing he could just leap across the table and finish what he started last night. Instead, he remains composed, forcing a smile.
"Enjoy your time here at Arkham, Drury." He says with an upward inflection, faking a plesaent demeanor. "I can assure you it will be short-lived." Jason turns and steps out into the hallway, Crane following close behind. The door shuts tightly and Jason places the envelope in the shelf by the door.

"Well, he's not crazy." He says, clearing his throat. "...legally, anyway. He's just a thug who needs to be put in his place. I'm giving him a clean bill of sanity. He's more suited for prison then an asylum."

 

[Gallagher]

"Well, he's not crazy." He says, clearing his throat. "...legally, anyway. He's just a thug who needs to be put in his place. I'm giving him a clean bill of sanity. He's more suited for prison then an asylum."

Crane looked on quizically, before responding.

"They seemed like the words of a sane person to you Doctor Todd?" He asks. "Threatening lives, dressing as a... Moth was it? I'm not doubting your ability or your diagnosis, just giving you my two cents as an... enthusiast in the matter." Crane finished, smiling. He wished no ill-will on the Doctor, in fact he was impressed with how he composed himself during the interview.

 

[Saved]

Crane looked on quizically, before responding.

"They seemed like the words of a sane person to you Doctor Todd?" He asks. "Threatening lives, dressing as a... Moth was it? I'm not doubting your ability or your diagnosis, just giving you my two cents as an... enthusiast in the matter." Crane finished, smiling. He wished no ill-will on the Doctor, in fact he was impressed with how he composed himself during the interview.

Todd frowns, aggravated by Crane's proposition. "The truth is that jail is just as much a psychological rehabilitation program as is this asylum. The difference is, the people who come here truly need help in their endeavor to get well. Those who are simply choosing to make the wrong decisions need to learn from their mistakes through conditioning. A simple system of reinforcers and punishers. They go straight, they gain freedom...they keep doing evil, well, let's say they receive a plethora of unpleasantry."

"Drury Walker is not mentally handicapped. He can choose to go straight and become a valuable member of society. If he decides not to do so, then he will be forced to repeat his mistakes until he gets it right. Or he dies."​

 

[Eddie Brock]

Gordon rolled his eyes. Exactly what he needed right now; Selina Kyle the world's most self involved woman. He understood the pressure that came with being an undercover operative, but where was the need to be such an ice cold *****. And if she was so deep cover, she shouldn't be coming into HIS police station and giving the game away. Nonetheless he put on his warmest smile.

"Yeah well, that just means that Maroni's upto something, and I wouldn't like to wait until the last minute to find out what it is," he said, stubbing the cigarette out on the ash-tray.

"Of course, while Maroni's quiet, this Black Mask prick is running riot around the city. Looks like he's hired some goon to send me a message I won't forget," the police chief said, before looking up at Kyle and gesturing with his hand.

"Come on then, make your report,"

"I agree. Maroni's definitely up to something. He's planned a weekend getaway to Long Island," I explain. Maroni rarely makes romantic plans. I have my suspicions about it. "It'll just be him and I, accompanied by a few of his higher ranking lackeys. And I don't believe for one second that he just needs some time off. I think something's going down this weekend, and he wants an alibi."

 

[Catman_prb]

"I agree. Maroni's definitely up to something. He's planned a weekend getaway to Long Island," I explain. Maroni rarely makes romantic plans. I have my suspicions about it. "It'll just be him and I, accompanied by a few of his higher ranking lackeys. And I don't believe for one second that he just needs some time off. I think something's going down this weekend, and he wants an alibi."

Gordon sighed and slammed his hand down on the desk.

"Come on Selina, you've got to do better than that," he urged "You of all people know that I can do sweet **** all without knowing a time and place. A place at least. I want a chance to nail this bastard before he buys off any more of the judges. Is there anything else?"

 

[Eddie Brock]

Gordon sighed and slammed his hand down on the desk.

"Come on Selina, you've got to do better than that," he urged "You of all people know that I can do sweet **** all without knowing a time and place. A place at least. I want a chance to nail this bastard before he buys off any more of the judges. Is there anything else?"

I bite my lip before answering, "That's all I've got right now, Commish. Look, I've told you before, Maroni doesn't involve his girlfriend with the business. This cover ID was only going to get me so far." I recognize the look in his eyes. He's tired, overworked, and desperate. I can only do more harm than good now.

As I stand up, I offer, "However, he does talk a lot about this Bat character."

 

[Catman_prb]

I bite my lip before answering, "That's all I've got right now, Commish. Look, I've told you before, Maroni doesn't involve his girlfriend with the business. This cover ID was only going to get me so far." I recognize the look in his eyes. He's tired, overworked, and desperate. I can only do more harm than good now.

As I stand up, I offer, "However, he does talk a lot about this Bat character."

"Everyone talks about the Bat," he muttered, more to himself than to Kyle "The sooner that freak has a bullet between the eyes, the better,"

He looked up as Kyle opened the door "Good luck Kyle," he said as she walked out "Cos God knows you're going to need it,"

*******​

"Boss, we got the autopsy through," Harvey said, throwing him a manilla folder with the report in. Gordon opened it up and flicked through the papers wordlessly.

"Good work Bullock," Jim said, grabbing his trenchcoat off the coat rack and pulling it over his shoulders.​

"Montoya, Driver, you're with me," Jim called, heading towards the main doors.​

"Where we headed boss?" Driver asked, checking that his gun was in his shoulder strap.​

"They've checked the dental records and got an ID. Looks like the victim was a call-girl. We're gonna talk with her pimp. Should be at the Iceberg Lounge this time of evening, right?" Gordon said, walking out the door with the other two detectives trailing behind him.​

*********​

The double doors were booted open and the three detectives walked in, pistols in one hand, badges in the other, the patrons of the Iceberg Lounge scattering in their wake.​

"WAGH! What is the meaning of this!" a short man in a tux shouted, putting himself in front of Gordon.​

"Relax Cobblepot, we're not here for you," the aging cop said, pushing the fat man back into his seat "Today,"​

Gordon held up an A5 photo of the girl and showed it around the room at the fleeing petty criminals.​

"Come on people," he shouted "This is Eva Green, 16 three weeks ago. So I want to know who's been selling underage girls to pyscopaths with powerdrills,"​

Montoya slammed a thug's head against the wall, while Driver scanned the crowds for a man who fit the description they had been given. He pointed at one figure at the far end of the hysteria.​

"There he is boss!" Driver shouted.​

"Get the son of a *****," Gordon shouted, trying to push his way through the crowd. Montoya leapt up onto the bar, knocking over a few drinks, then running the length of it and jumping off, onto the back of the wanted pimp. Gordon walked up next to her, panting quietly.​

"Nice work Renee. Cuff him and get him down to the station, we'll sort this **** out in the morning,"​

 

[Johnny Blaze]

"Ah", the Joker smiled as he gazed up at the big top tent jutting up into the sky.
"It's a thing of beauty, isn't it?"

A day ago the troupe had descended down on Gotham and begun to set up camp in an abandoned lot.
Many curious citizens came to gawk at the strange carnival folk as they hurried about the grounds, putting up tents and trailers, setting up animal pens for the hyenas and elephants, and making sure all was in order.

Police arrived on the scene within the first hour, citing that they had no permit to set up here. Ordering them to vacate the premises immediately. But, after a quick talk with the Joker, the officers changed their minds.
Happily heading back to their cars, the police went back to their daily routines. They were excited about all the fun they were going to have now that the carnival was in town!

"What's the next step, Mr. J?"

"Oh, the usual routine, Ragdoll", the Joker exclaimed joyously as the Freakshow joined him.
"We're going to take Gotham and turn it upside down! Bring them all back to reality!"

The Freakshow. The Joker's inner circle of twisted minds and gifted psychos.
Killer Croc, the Ragdoll, John Paul Valley, and Joey Riggers.
Together they ran the show, commanding the peons who's minds were turned to mush by the Joker's insanity.

"And how are we gonna do that here?"

"Ah, tut-tut", the Joker scolded as he turned to face Riggers.
"This is not the time nor the place to discuss such things. Right now it's time to spread the word!"

"Just look at this big, ****-hole of a city", the Joker exclaimed as his arms went out wide as if he was going to embrace all of Gotham in a hug.

"Isn't it the most perfect place you've ever perceived!?"

"Yeah, it's nice, boss, but-"

"Don't interrupt me", the Joker snarled hatefully as he backhanded Croc across his leathery face.

Despite his massive size compared to that of the frail-looking clown, Croc backed down silently.

"This city", the Joker picked up once more, his expression returning to one of happiness.
"Gotham is teetering on the edge of the precipice. It's sooooo close to falling into the mire of so-called civilized life. But there's a dreariness here..."

The Joker closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
"It's...refreshing. The energy of this city, it wants to be saved. It cries out, 'PLEASE, Mister Joker! Please save me from the soul-crushing monotony of it all!'"

"Gotham wants our help", he spun quickly around towards the Freakshow, causing them all to take a quick step back.
"Gotham needs our help. And we're going to give it to her, like the sorry ****e she is."

"It's time to spread the word, gentlemen. Send the crews out among the people! And make sure everything here is in order. The show begins in two days. And we don't want to keep our soon-to-be adoring fans waiting. HehhehhehhehhahaHAhahAHahahHAHahaAHAHAa!"

The Joker skipped along towards his trailer, cackling like a madman the entire way, as the Freakshow went about to take care of the business at hand.
Within minutes, carnival folk began pouring out onto the streets of Gotham, wowing the pedestrians and going door to door, handing out flyers and telling all within earshot...Belseraph's Brigade of the Bizarre had arrived!

 

[Eddie Brock]

GREEN ARROW

The elevator opens with a ding, and I stride confidently out onto the hardwood floor. There's an attractive receptionist working on her computer, but the room is otherwise vacant. Floor-to-ceiling size windows give an unparalleled view of the city. To my right, large doors lead into the conference room. I approach them fearlessly.

"Excuse me!" a soft voice announces. I freeze in place and turn on my heels. The receptionist - who looked so busy before - is now facing me. Her eyes are the deepest shade of blue I've ever seen. I smile, but she doesn't return the gesture. "You can't go in there. The board is meeting."

I laugh politely and make my way over to her desk. "I know, I know. I have such terrible timing." I know one thing: Oliver Queen has never met a girl he couldn't woo. I sit casually on the edge of her desk and explain, "I'm good friends with Connor Hawke, and I just got back in town. I figured he'd love it if I could drop by unannounced, and--"

I purposefully trail off.

Shaking my head, I say, "I'm sorry. I just lost my train of thought, there. Listen--" I lean over the desk and give her a quick rundown with my eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you deserve something better than this lousy job?" At this, she chuckles. "I'm serious! With those eyes, you could be modeling."

"Thank you!" she replies sincerely. Her cheeks start to turn red, and she forces herself to break eye contact. While pretending to look through papers on her desk, she says, "No one's ever said that to me before."

"I don't believe that for one second." I pick up the small digital clock on her desk and frown. "Oh, shoot. I've gotta be somewhere soon," I explain disappointedly. "How long did you say this meeting was going to be again?"

"You know what? Go right in," she offers.

I hop down from the desk victoriously. "Thank you very much. I'll get your number on the way out, okay?" I flash her a quick wink before approaching the doors with renewed confidence.

Oh, yeah. I've still got it.

When I enter the boardroom, all backs are turned to me. Standing at the opposite side of the room, facing a flowchart, is Connor Hawke - my father's successor as CEO of Queen Industries. They were old business partners, even though they never saw eye-to-eye on anything. Hawke didn't take it too well when my father left the company to me and not him.

Hawke turns around and stops himself in midsentence. "Oliver Queen?" he announces. At this, every chair in the place shifts as people turn to face me. There are a few surprised gasps and some hurried whispers. "What a lovely surprise."

"Why should this be a surprise?" I ask. "Am I not supposed to know how my company is run?" All eyes turn back to Hawke in anticipation of his response.

"Listen, Ollie, I don't know if you heard while you were in prison, but we took the company public a while back," he explains with a well-faked apologetic tone. "It was a tough decision, but the board ruled that it was in the company's best interest. I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but...the company isn't yours, anymore."

"If memory serves, the majority of shares went to a private investor, correct?" Hawke looks around the boardroom in hopes of someone who can rebutt this fact. However, no one can. "Well, I recently spoke to said private investor, and those shares are now back in my possession, so I guess this is still my company."

Hawke is speechless. After a moment of contemplation, he announces, "Well, I think this has been a very productive meeting, everyone. Until next time." As the board members file out, Hawke paces at the end of the table. A few board members mutter something of a welcoming to me as they leave. I merely smile and wait for the room to empty.

"Hawke, I prefer to be open and honest," I begin once it's just him and I. I walk up to the table and lean against the back of one of the chairs. "I know that everything you've done since I went in was an attempt to take control of this company, so - for both our sakes - don't deny it." He says nothing. "But I'm back now, and I'm the majority shareholder, so we're going to be seeing a lot of each other. Let's try to keep it cordial."

I put my hands in my pockets and turn to leave. Hawke is still silent. I stop and turn.

"Oh, one more thing. I know it was you who framed me."

And, without saying any more, I leave Hawke alone in the boardroom to process his thoughts.
​

 

[Red_Robin77]

The Question

I sit typing up a report at my desk on my computer, my eyes barely staying open. Smashing scum during the night and working with them during the day can tire a man out. I can only hope for a calm day in the Homocide Division. I wish. I turn my head with a sigh as my partner, Roger DeCarlo, bursts through the door, his eyes showing that he has another hangover. I shuffles through the busy room and comes over to his desk opposite mine.

"Morning Sage..." he groans over to me.

"Looks like you had a good night..."

"Shut it. What we got this morning?"

"Paperwork."

"I'll go on the coffee run then."

"Black, if you would."

"Yeah, sure," he mutters as he walks out and takes out his flask.

I always get stuck with the alchoholic. I go through another stack of paper, checking for anything I'd missed. With a sigh I pick it up and go put it on DeCarlo's desk, before walking off, pulling a cigarette out. I stroll out into the corridor as I pat my pockets, looking for my lighter. As I reach the stairs to the roof, I find it and pull it out quickly. I heave open the door and step out into the cool air, cigarette lit. I take a deep puff and close my eyes, taking in the feeling. Suddenly I hear quick, loud footsteps behind me and I instinctively swing around. A young police officer barges through the door, a file in his hand.

"Detective Sage! Homicide case just came in!" the officer pants.

I sigh and drop the cigarette in my fingers, and put it out with the heel of my shoe. I look down at the rest of my dead cigarettes, scattering the floor. I never finished those.

"On my way."

****
​

I look down at the dead body and grimace. DeCarlo is staggering around, pale, as though he's about to throw up. I've got a bet it's not about the body.

"Name's Alfie Cartwright. Found dead by his Landlord this morning after a week of not paying the rent. Looks like he's been diving the rent, as according to our forensic boys he's been dead for a good 13 hours, not a week. We've got the Landlord on his way to-"

"I've got it, I've got it! Jesus, Sage, you just go handle it, I've got some investigating of my own to do."

"The inside of a toilet bowl?"

"Shut it," he orders bluntly as he makes his way to the door.

I sigh and bend down to get a good look at the body. Bullet to the back. Obviously didn't see it coming. No sign of a struggle, bolt smashed on the door. The reason the Landlord found him was because the door was slightly ajar. He's our only suspect.

"If Detective DeCarlo comes back, tell him I'm back at the Station," I tell an Officer as I make my way to the door.
​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

There's a small crowd gathered around the police barricade as I come to a stop next to my dad's partner.

"What's going on?" I ask Jay as I vibrate my body to blur my apperance.

"Umm...uhh. Bank robber...he shot a security guard and took the rest of the employees hostage."

I take off past the police and into the bank.

"What the ****?" The skinny man with a shotgun says in a thick scottish acccent as I appear between him and the fifteen or so people he has hostage.

"Can we talk this out peacfully?"

"Ahhh, you're The Flash, right? I knew ye might come, Alice. Let's see how fast you are!" He syas as he pumps the shotgun.

In an instant, the gun is out of his hands and dismantled on the floor.

"Ohh..."

I lay my fist into his face and break his jaw with a loud crack.

I've never been much of a heavy hitter, but even a marshmallow going 100 miles an hour will mess you up.

He hits the bank floor with a dull thud. I look at the hostages and nod.

"You're safe, now."

​

**************

​

I vibrate my body again to hide my apperance as I watch the cops put the bank robber into the back of the squad car.

"Thanks for the help." Jay says as he scratches his salt and pepper hair.

An unmarked police car pulls up and my father gets out.

"What the hell happened?" He asks Jay as I turn to leave.

"The Flash happened." He says with a bit of a smile as I jet off into the night.

I'll probably do a few more laps around Central and into the Keystone 'burbs before I head back home.

After all, it is a school night.​

 

[Gallagher]

Todd frowns, aggravated by Crane's proposition. "The truth is that jail is just as much a psychological rehabilitation program as is this asylum. The difference is, the people who come here truly need help in their endeavor to get well. Those who are simply choosing to make the wrong decisions need to learn from their mistakes through conditioning. A simple system of reinforcers and punishers. They go straight, they gain freedom...they keep doing evil, well, let's say they receive a plethora of unpleasantry."

"Drury Walker is not mentally handicapped. He can choose to go straight and become a valuable member of society. If he decides not to do so, then he will be forced to repeat his mistakes until he gets it right. Or he dies."​

"I was merely giving my opinion on the matter Doctor, we all know you're the expert here." Crane said with a sigh before turning back to the psychiatrist with a smile. "Well, thank you for the opportunity to sit in. It was... eye opening to see how you work with these people." He said with a handshake.

"If you'll excuse me, I must get back to my work, I have a suicidal man in the medical wing that needs seeing to. I'm sure we'll see each other around Doctor Todd."

With that the two parted ways as Crane headed for the medical wing of the building.

~~~

Arkham Diary Entry #036

Today was rather eventful in comparison to yesterday. My first full day of work here held more in store for me than I had imagined, the suicide patient I spoke of in my last entry is doing fine, doped up to the eyeballs on the best sedatives I can legally administer and I met one of my co-workers today. He seemingly shares my passion for psychology and, as the resident psychiatrist, he obviously should. Still my suspicions about the boy remain, he's awfully young, twenty-five I hear, to be in a position of such importance.

Well, look at me. Twenty eight and I'm the youngest medical consultant the facility has ever had, maybe I shouldn't be so critical, he did a competant job today with the 'Killer Moth' character, while my diagnosis would've differed I'm sure he did what he thought best.

What he told me about the Asylum itself however, I had no idea. Apparently the building was once a prison. When Doctor Arkham decided to turn it into an Asylum he neglected to maintain the original building, I guess that is why it's in such a sorry state of affairs today. I did some digging at the library on the Island. Apparently he did some work to lower east corner when it was first established as an Asylum but work stopped suddenly and never resumed. I wonder why this is? I heard from the aforementioned Doctor Todd that the old man is deathly afraid of evil spirits that apparently haunt the prison. It's all nonesense of course but still, it gives an insight into my employer's mind.

Well, it's been quite an exciting first day, I can hardly wait to get back to work tomorrow, for now however I will attempt to get a good nights sleep. It... can be difficult here, sometimes you can hear them screaming, the inmates that is, even from the staff housing you can hear them. I try not to let it get to me, nothing good will come of trying to decifer their inane ramblings and cries in the night.

 

[Saved]

Todd watches Dr. Crane head down the long hallway and through the double doors at the end. As the doors shut behind him, Crane disapears and Jason finds himself alone in the hallway. "Egotistical prick..." Todd says angrily. "I'll be damned if I let one more sympathetic want to be get a position of power in this place..." He turns abrubtly and heads down Arkham's long, dim hallways toward his office. "Now," he says, pushing the current events from his mind and focusing on the present. "I've got a job to do."

 

[SenseiofCheese]

"...so I turned to the guy and said 'fisticuffs it is' and I ****ing bopped him good." I announce to a round of laughter and applause. Granted, the men cheering me on are all thieves, murderers or both, but hey, in here, I'll take all the love I can get.

Almost all of it, anyway.

"Gardner." a deep, baritone voice comes from behind. I feel a heavy tap on my shoulder, and as the hustle and bustle of the courtyard dies down and all eyes fall on me, I realize what's about to happen.

I mutter a silent prayer before turning around with a toothy grin.

"Tank." smiling, I extend my hand. "How the hell are you, old pal?"

Like the weightlifting statue he is, he doesn't move an inch. "You think you clever don't you? Punching me in the face and then runnin' around 'till the guards saved your ass?"

Some of the inmates can't help but chuckle, but one look from Tank and they're as silent as the grave. "Tank, can't we just be friends? I mean, you got a black eye, I got really, really tired from all that running around. I'd say that makes us even, wouldn't you?" I ask hopefully.

He growls. Just growls. Like....Animal Planet type growling. And I almost soil myself. For a moment I look up at the sky. There's not a cloud in sight. Just endless blue in every direction, and the sun in the middle keeping it all together. It's a good day to die, I guess.

A quick glance around the courtyard and I notice people are already throwing single cigarettes onto their tables; betting just how quickly Tank manages to shove my head up my own ass.

"Sit still and this'll all be over soon, slim." Tank snorts, and he pulls his fist back. Is it possible to survive your head being stuck up your rectum? With modern medicine where it is, I wouldn't be surprised.

I close my eyes and wince, ready for the truck that's about to hit me in the face, when the alarm goes off. It's a siren blaring over the entire courtyard, insanely loud and piercing. Everyone , including my good friend Tank, stop and focus on a single, unassuming steel door.

Two guards are stationed outside, their guns raised and pointed at the door. The three guard towers all have two guards each, and all of them have their rifles trained on the door as well. I have, quite literally, been saved by the bell.

The siren dies down, and in it's stead a short alarm sounds through. With a loud clank, the door pulls open. Watching the men who shuffle out of that doorway spill into the courtyard is like watching someone throw a cat into a bucket full of mice. One after the other, the special inmates make their way out into the courtyard. Each of them squints as they step out into the sunlight, most of them not having seen it all week.

See, let me explain something. Here at Iron Heights, the population is split into two groups. There's genpop, which includes killer, rapists and thieves. All around sweethearts like myself. Then there's the Masks. These are guys in a league all of their own. They commit all the same crimes as the rest of us, but the main difference is that these cats have superpowers. Whether it's making you sneeze really hard or making you spontaneously combust, these are some bad dudes, and you wouldn't want to get on the bad side of one. Iron Heights has an entire wing dedicated to superpowered criminals. An entire row of solitary cells they make these poor saps stay in all day every day. Except once a week, when they get some time with us darlings in genpop.

Nor would my genpop brethren. That's why seeing an 8' foot behemoth shuffle for his cigarettes and give his seat to a pale, skinny little guy with a power collar strapped around his neck isn't entirely out of the ordinary.

"Come on...let's go." Tank mutters to his possee of intellectuals. "Next time, Gardner. Believe me, next time." he emphasizes his point by cracking his knuckles loudly, and I bid farewell with a wave. "You have my number."

Soon the courtyard is mostly cleared. The guys who have been here long enough to see what these Masks can do are smart enough to have gone inside, while the new ones are too curious to move. Then there's me. I stay right where I'm sitting, while the rest of the table clears out.

I sit alone for a while before I hear someone shuffle over and sit at my table. "Is that overgrown child still giving you trouble?" comes a gruff, tired voice and I turn.

"Nothing I can't handle, Lenny."

Leonard Snart. Went by the name of Captain Cold on the outside, where he robbed a couple of banks before the Flash nabbed him and his partner, Heat Wave. "How's the collar?"

Lenny grunts, annoyed, as he taps the large, black metal device strapped to his neck. It's official name is a Power Dampener, but it doesn't dampen ****. What it DOES do, however, is deliver an electric shock strong enough to kill an elephant to anyone who wears it and does use his powers. "It's a goddamn pain in my ass, is what it is. Itches like a mother****er." hot air rises from his mouth and dissipiates as he talks. See, Lenny here is able to freeze anything he touches. I'm not too clear on the specifics, but apparently his entire body temperature is three times less than that of a normal human being, a side effect of his powers. That's why I try not to shake his hand.

"Sorry to hear." I say, not paying attention to whatever he said. But I'm guessing he was complaining. He does that a lot.

I take a look around the courtyard and my skin starts to crawl. I'm not one to scare easily, but half these guys give me the creeps. "Listen, Gardner, there's something you should know."

My focus snap backs to Lenny. "Yeah?"

"Now, I'm tellin' you this because you're a good guy. Top notch. You get me smokes whenever I ask you, helped me out with that guard who made my life a *****...never asked for nothing in return. So for all that, I'm giving you this." he says in a hushed tone, and I lean in close.

"Me and few of the guys from Supermax are planning on busting out."

 

[Byrd Man]

New York​

I furrow my brow as I sit down on the couch.

"How are we today, Slade?" Dr. Wintergreen asks in his affluent British accent as he picks up his notepad and pen.

"I'm fine. Just got back from a trip to Italy. Protecting some diplomat."

"Sounds fun. No episodes, I assume?"

"As far as I know, no."

Dr. Wintergreen smiles at me over his glasses.

"Cellar door."

**************

​

Wintergreen smiles and hands me a pack of cigs.

"About time you put Wilson to sleep."

"Jesus Christ, 'stroke. We just started the session." He says as he drops the accent and speaks with his think New Jersey brogue.

"Whatever." I say as I light up.

"What are we doing this time?"

"You and I are getting paid a **** load of money from the Gambino family to kill this guy they got in witness protection program."

"What's his name?"

"Klutter. Noah Klutter."

I smile and take a long drag off my cig after putting it out in an ashtray.

"Ready when you are."

He snaps his fingers three times in a row.

​

*************

​

Dr. Wintergreen nods and writes down his notes as I sit up on the couch.

"Wow. That hour flew by."

"I know, Slade. So, what do you have planned next at work?"

"Apparently, I'm going to Oregon for some conference. Should be fun."

"Well, best of luck with that....kitchen sink."

​

***************

​

I open my eyes and see that cute looking doctor guy standing above me.

"Good morning, dear."

"Why hello." I say with a wicked grin.

"I'm taking you on a trip since you're my #1 girl."

"Where we going, baby?" I ask as I sit up on the couch.

"Oregon." He says as he takes my hand.

"What's in Oregon?"

"Nature, baby. You, me, and the birds and the bees."​

 

[SenseiofCheese]

One foot goes in front of the other, in quick succession. He knows this.

When walking, you must avoid accidentally bumping into other people. He knows this.

Since he woke up today, he has taken exactly 5,439 steps. He knows this too.

Tonight, he will most likely sleep in the same alley he woke up in, three weeks ago. He knows this.

He knows a lot of things. But he does not know who he is. He does not his real name. He does not know why he can do what he can do.

3 weeks ago

The first thing to hit him is the smell. The hot stench of putrid garbage filling his nostrils and he almost vomits.

Then comes the noise. Cars lazily driving down the street. A man doesn't look before crossing the road and almost gets hit by a vehicle. The driver isn't happy. Slams his palm down on the horn and yells. There is a pigeon cooing softly as it picks apart one of the garbage bags he is laying on.

Then comes the headache. He feels like he's been hit in the head with a wrecking ball, and he barely manages to open his eyes. When he does, lights invades his senses and he immediately shuts them again. It takes him two more tries to open his eyes fully.

He doesn't know where he is. He doesn't know why he's here. And he doesn't know why he has no idea what his name is.

2 weeks and 4 days ago

He's been walking the streets of this neighborhood for a while. Once in a while he stops and his eyes wander, before settling on a certain house. Or store. Or person. And he stares intently, trying to force himself to remember. But he doesn't.

It's dark out. That is when bad people try to hurt good people. This, he knows.

"NOOOO! AAAH!" the scream pierces the night; like a dagger through his very soul. He turns and, in the darkness, see a man with a knife in his hand. He is threatening a young woman with the knife. She is crying. She is begging him to let her live. John Smith is going to save her.

But he doesn't know why.

He runs. He runs very fast. "Hey! Hey, you!" he shouts, and the man with the knife turns.

The man with the knife is scared. John knows it. And when people get scared, they do bad things. And the man with the knife panics. He swears, and he starts to run in the other direction. "STOP!" John shouts with his arm outstretched. "STOP!" he calls out.

His arm feels strange. It feels like it's about to come off. But it doesn't. Suddenly, the air around John begins to buck like a wild horse. John can't stop it. He screams. The woman screams. And the man with the knife screams, as a massive tornado forms in the palm of John's hand. Like a missile, it goes straight towards the man with the knife.

He is thrown off his feet; his knife falls to the ground. The man flies into a wall and is knocked out. The woman is stunned.

So is John.

Today

He has helped a lot of people. In the three weeks since he appeared in the city, John has stopped 7 muggings, 4 murder attempts, and 3 robberies. He has prevented 9 car crashes and helped 3 people get to the hospital.

He has superpowers. He has the ability to control the air. He can twist it, use it as a weapon. And he does. Against all the bad people that want to hurt others. He is a hero. A superhero.

The papers call him the Tornado. Nobody knows who he is.

Unfortunately.

 

[Eddie Brock]

SELINA KYLE

After leaving Gordon's office, I hail a cab. I do my best to cover my face, in case anyone's watching. When the taxi pulls up, I waste no time getting in. I give the driver my apartment address, and I lean my head back against the seat. I stare up at the skyscrapers above. During the day, you could almost be convinced that this is a nice town.

When the taxi pulls to a stop, I hand the driver more money than I owe him. It doesn't matter. The one good thing about hanging around Maroni is that money is never short. Of course, it's where he gets that money from that I should be concerned about.

As soon as I open the door to my apartment, I'm greeted by an all-white cat. She rubs my leg, leaving little white hairs. I remind myself to brush that off before I see Maroni. "Hello, Ivory," I greet pleasantly. She purrs gently. "Where are your sisters, huh?" I look around the nearly abandoned apartment. No sign of the other cats. "Hmm. I wanted to say goodbye before I go on my trip."

I walk to the kitchen, which hasn't been used in months. Ivory immediately leaps onto the counter and begins pacing near several bowls placed there. I smile and pet her approvingly on the back. "Yes, girl, I'm going to feed you," I promise. I open the cupboard. It's empty, save for a large bag of cat food. "I'm going to be gone all weekend, so I'm going to leave food for your sisters. Now, make sure Felicia doesn't eat it all again, okay?"

Ivory meows.

I pour equal amounts of food into each bowl. It should last them for a couple of days, as long as they pace themselves. As soon as Ivory's bowl is full, she immediately begins to eat. "You gotta make this last all weekend, so don't pig out too much," I instruct the cat. She ignores me and continues eating. Smiling, I kiss her once on the top of her small, snowy head. "I'll be back Monday."
​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

"Tonight's low will reach the low 60's, for tomorrow we'll have a high of 96, and tomorrow night lows into the upper 60's. That's your latest look at weather here on WCCN, I'm Mark Mardon."

I flip the radio off as my old pickup truck pulls up at the University parking lot.

Today is one of my favorite classes, Criminal Justice with Professor Corrigan.

​

************​

"Okay. If I can have everyone's attention." Professor Corrigan says as he sits behind the podium.

Jim Corrigan is a legend in almost every law enforcment agency. He served 30 years as a homicide detective in New York City, finishing his career with an overall clearence rate of 80%.

Both my dad and Jay worshipped Professor Corrigan when he was a cop. He's the standard many detectives are measured to today....and he's my teacher.

"Today, we're going to talk about the famous Murmur murders that took place here in Keystone during the early 90's. We'll back track the facts of the case and how the detectives broke it open."

I smile to myself as I stop taking notes.

"Something funny, Mr. Allen?"

"Dr. Michael Christian Amar, AKA Murumur. Skilled surgeon from St. Joe's with a touch of dementia, he heard voices in his head. In response to this, he murdered nine men, eight women, and three dogs. Every victim was killed by repeated stab wounds and mutilated, always with their tounge cut out. His spree ran from March of 1990 all the way to July of 1994. He was arrested by Lieutenant Jay Garrick and Detective Barry Allen of the Central City Police Department. Currently resides in Iron Heights' mental ward."

"And you know this because?"

"Barry Allen is my father."

Professor Corrigan nods and turns to the board.

​

************

​

Central City Police Deparment
Holding Cells

"Okay, McCullough." The guard says as he opens the jail cell.

"Some kinda joke?" Evan McCullough, the scottish bankrobber, says with a hint of skepticism.

"You made bail."

"Whatta load of ****e."

"It's true, Mr. McCullough." A man says as he enters the cell behind the guard. His dark hair and graying temples match the green and black pinstripe suit he wears.

"I'm posting bail on you."

"And you are?"

"My name is Roscoe Dillon. And I'm offering you a chance at freedom. So, come with me...or go to Iron Heights....your choice."

"Wait!" McCullough says as he gets up off the cell cot.

"Let's go."

"You follow me, Mr. McCullough and I will not only free your body. But your mind as well."​

 

[Spike_x1]

I can't believe it. Is there something watching over this city, just waiting for labs to begin high-risk experiments so that an accident can happen and create a superpowered menace? This time it happened at a S.T.A.R. Labs facility that only just opened last month. I even helped Ron write the story on it's opening.

From what I can gather, a certain doctor name Frederick Franklin had a project that he was working on that could displace an object from linear time, creating a duplicate of that object from nanoseconds in the past.

Yeah, I can't really wrap my head around it either. But apparently, this Dr. Franklin could understand the logic behind it. Theoretically. From what Franklin's colleagues told me before I rushed in to the burning laboratory, his machine blew up in his face, and there were four versions of Franklin when they last saw him, and they were all going nuts. As I float through the fiery building, I try using my X-ray vision to find any more survivors, but they all appear to have made it out safely. All that's left in here are Dr. Franklin and myself. I can see two of him running around on a floor above me. Their heartbeats are almost in unison with one another, lending more credence to the idea that they're the same person, just barely out of sync with the other in time. I can't find where the other two versions of him are in the building. Is it possible that he reabsorbed them back into himself?

I fly through the ceiling, and come up through the floor in front of Franklin, to his surprise. "Doctor?" I shout over the roar of the flames. "I'm going to have to ask that you come with me. I'll get you out of this fire, and we'll sort this whole mess out."

"Shaddup!"
"Shaddup!"

Both of them turn to yell at me, and I admit that the sight is a little unsettling. I can see what can only be described as a touch of insanity in their eyes, which is a sight that I'm sad to say is becoming more and more common in the superpowered people I meet in Metropolis.

"You're one of them! Come to get me!"
"Snatch me from time! I won't let you!"

Before I can reply and try to reassure Dr. Franklin that I'm only here to help him, he duplicates himself at will, creating a third version of him. Oh great. The next thing I know, all three of them have tackled me through the burning wall and out into the fresh air. They aren't nearly as strong as I am, but they do seem to have been granted enhanced strength from the accident, and with their combined attack, I think that I might be in for a rough night.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

The Atom continues floating through the night sky.

Ahhh 3 robberies and 2 muggings prevented not a bad night's work.

She floats back into her apartment through the airvents and returns to normal size.

3 AM and I am already calling it a night. Maybe I'm slowing down. Well since I have been ordered to stay home that doesn't mean I can't go back to the office and work a little bit on my presentation after all Mr. Wayne might be there. Gotta make this count.

Rhiannon arrives back at Wayne Enterprises and notices something very odd.

Henry is not at his post and neither is Jake...what is going on? My paranoia maybe a couple days off from being The Atom would help too.

She makes her way down the hall to the lab and sees the smoldering body of Dr. Langstrom and the two missing security guards.

Rhainnon is shocked and can barely think.

She gets out her cell phone and calls 911.

 

[Spike_x1]

This is what he was always meant for; to bring ruin to those of this world who deserved it. Settling into his hotel room, Bane closed and locked the door, hung his trench coat on one of the many hangers, and sat down on the exquisitely comfortable sofa to open the case that he had placed on the coffee table in front of him. Inside of the case were a variety of scopes, the rifle barrel, shoulder guard, and a large selection of ammunition to choose from. He took a small sip of the fine wine that the hotel had set out in his room before his arrival and decided that the armor piercing rounds would be quite unnecessary for the task at hand. Maroni may, however unlikely, prove useful at a future point in time, so Bane settled on the decision to use tranquilizer darts.

He assembled the sniper rifle quickly and skillfully before gently setting it aside and leaving the room to change into the proper attire. Gotham City was a community that was a growing example of a population slowly but surely being taken over by those who masqueraded in costumes to stalk the prey of the populous. When in Rome, he mused as he combed his short brown hair appropriately before sliding the mask over his face. The specialized red lenses would provide both thermal and night vision, and the utility belt that he snapped around his waist held the grappling hook, throwing knives, small firearms, spare ammunition, and several other items, should he require them. Tightening the straps around the wrists of his gloves, Bane stepped out of the master bedroom and slung the rifle over his shoulder. It was just about time to go to work.

Leaving through the window, he took to the rooftops and almost instantly mastered his secondary objective of conquering the nooks and crannies of this new urban jungle. So many rooftops, yet still, they were all so similar. He had studied maps and blueprints of the major points in Gotham City, so finding Maroni's residence was no challenge in the least. Perching himself directly across the street, Bane laid down, set the rifle stand up, and aimed the barrel straight at the back of Sal Maroni's, neck.

In a whisper that no one could have possibly heard, the dart stabbed itself into crime boss' neck. The sad excuse for a man fell face-first onto his desk instantly. Not rejoicing for even an instant in this small first step towards victory, Bane continued flawlessly by taking the rifle down from its stand and firing his grappling hook to carry him to the ledge just outside of Maroni's window. Quietly, he lifted the glass and slipped into the office. Kneeling down to the steel safe under Sal's desk, Bane took a modified stethoscope from his belt and pressed its face against the surface of the safe, listening to the tumblers fall into place as he spun the dial. In moments, the safe was wide open and Bane had swiftly and silently left the scene, taking Salvatore Maroni's ledger, with all of his underworld contacts' names and numbers listed within.

That was ridiculously simple.

 

[Saved]

Red Hood​

The Chase Part I

Jason Todd stands in front of a full length mirror inside his Gotham apartment. Out the window of his bedroom is a beautiful view of Gotham's harbor, an alluring look at a city that's reputation is best known for murder and death, not tranquility or style. The boats move through the murky water at a slow pace, leaving a trail of waves behind them.​

As Jason adjusts the cufflinks on his shirt, he stares into the reflection before him, watching himself carefully. He puts his hands to the lapels of his blazer, smoothly adjusting them. He gives himself a smirk and nods, "Damn I look good." He says proudly. As he goes to pick up his wallet resting a top his dresser, a loud buzz sounds - followed by a piercing high pitched ring. Todd turns abruptly to the police scanner resting on the table next to his bed. The red light on the device blinks and a voice begins to speak over the radio.​

"-Units, we have a 4-11 in progress at Goth Tech downtown. Suspect is armed and dangerous, be advised.-" The message fades into static, followed by the lulled sounds of officers confirming the call.​

Jason frowns, putting the wallet in his hand back down on the dresser. He takes off the blazer overtop his dress shirt and tosses it to the bed; he then reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, his thumb flipping the device open. Instantly, he begins dialing. As the phone begins to ring, he wedges it between his cheek and shoulder and begins undoing the buttons on his sleeve. A voice picks up on the other end asking "hello?". Todd stammers as he struggles to take off his shirt in a rush.​

"Harley!" He shouts, unbuttoning the front of his shirt. "Harley, it's Jason."
"Oh, hi," she says in a perky voice. "I was just about to walk out the door to meet you at the Iceberg Lounge."
"Yeah, about that," he begins, finally getting the shirt off and tossing it onto the bed. "I'm gonna be a little late."
"Late? ... Why, are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah." Todd lies, slipping his pants off and kicking them aside. "Something just came up. You know, last minute." Silence on the other end. Jason grabs the phone in one hand and switches sides, shifting to the other cheek. "Don't worry, I'll be there. Twenty minutes. Thirty tops."​

"Promise?" She asks in a worried voice.
"Promise." He smiles.
"Alright, half hour."
"Half hour."
"I'll be waiting, Jason. See you then."​

"See ya then," he says, relieved. "Bye." He flips the phone closed and places it next to his wallet on the dresser. Instantly, he moves to his closet, opening the door and stepping inside. In the dark confined space, a bureau stands at the back. He leans forward and opens the top drawer, pulling it forward to reveal its contents. "It's no batcave, but it works."​

Inside is a red helmet resting on top of a thick gray colored bullet proof vest. The facade of the vest is aged, the outer fabric torn in a few places from previous battles. Next to it lies his costume; the pants, shirt, jacket, all neatly put aside. He reaches inside and takes hold, beginning to cloth himself in his alter persona.​

****​

In minutes, Jason is dressed and out the door of the apartment complex. He runs down the street, his red helmet tucked away under his black leather jacket. Stopping abrubtly, he comes to a halt in front of a red motorcycle parked by the sidewalk. He jumps on and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pair of jagged metal keys. He shoves one of them into the ignition and turns it hard. The engine revs loudly as it turns on, the motor humming like a finely tuned machine. Todd smiles as he feels for the kickstand with his heel and kicks it back.​

"Time to have some fun," he grins, gripping the handle with one hand. He peels out wrecklessly into the street, driving at tops speeds down the long road. As he weaves in between the cars lodged in traffic, he pulls the helmet out from under his jacket and pulls it down over his head. Taking hold of the other handlebar, he revs the engine loudly, increasing his speed and shooting off like a bullet through the busy streets of Gotham. As he passes by the cars, he waves, a wide grin on his face beneath his helmet. He's enjoying every minute of it, no doubt about it.​

After a five or ten minutes, Todd pulls up to the Goth Tech building. The structure is completely black, closed now that the day is over. It's suppossed to be empty, locked securely to keep everything safe for the next day of work. But someone tripped an alarm - Someone's inside.​

Todd inconspicuously parks the bike behind a parked car on the edge of the road. Looking around cautiously, Todd sees the coast is clear, and he runs forward toward the building. Taking a strong and powerful leap, he easily clears the fence, missing the barbed wire mounting the chain link with room to spare. Landing carefully, he moves right back into a sprint, and heads for the back door.​

Around back, he finds a locked door, shut tight, bolted to the walls. "Damn..." he mutters. "Second story, maybe." Todd runs around the corner, moving without hesitation or a second thought. Around the other side he finds a ladder, a large red rusted pathway leading vertically upward toward the roof of the first floor. Todd leaps on and climbs, moving like a spider as it crawls across the side of a wall. It takes him no time at all to reach the top, planting his feet firmly on the rooftop.​

On the top of the first story he moves about hastily, looking for any openings. After a moment or two, he finds it - an open door. As he runs up to it, he sees the melted metal locks burned away with some kind of acid. He examines it closely, looking carefully at the twisted metal. "Fresh," he surmises, turning through the hallway and heading in side the building.​

Todd travels down the dark hallway, moving on instinct rather than observation. He keeps his feet light, his motions quick. He is silent, moving like a ghost. Steadily, he lowers his breathing, making his breaths drawn out and soft. His heart slows and he continues to remain silent as he makes his way toward a staircase at the end of the hall. He follows the stairs upward, reaching scaffolding that overlooks what appears to be a research lab below.​

As he looks about the darkness, he sees a quick flash. He turns toward the origin of the light, staring intently as he tries to look past the splotches of blue and red from the flash. As his eyes adjust, he sees a figure below moving like a shadow about the heavily armored cabinets. He watches as the figure breaks the locks on each drawer, spilling drops from a vile of some acidic element onto the metal locks. Each time a drop hits the metal a small flash of light bursts, an effect from the chemical reaction.​

The figure opens the drawers wide, pulling them out as far as they can go. He then examines them closely, thumbing through the various files as he searches through the endless documents. Hood snickers, amused by the thiefs incompetance. If he's going to break into a heavy security research facility, he should at least know where the object he intends on taking is, he thinks to himself.​

Todd leaps downward, jumping down to the next set of rafters, just feet above the shadowy thief. As his feet hit the metal, a loud 'clang' sounds and the thief looks upward, showing his face."What the hell?"The thief exclaims, startled.​

"Good evening," Todd says in a sarcastic voice. "Store hours were over three hours ago, you know."​

"Heh, cute." The thief says, playing along. "You think you could help me find what I'm looking for?" He asks in a haughty voice, playing with Todd.​

"That depends," Todd starts, stepping forward to the ledge of the scaffold. He grabs the railing tightly and lifts himself up, jumping over the edge and soaring down to ground level. He hits the ground hard, but he rises quickly, recovering fast. "Are you looking for a beating?" Todd asks, cracking his fists.​

"No, I'm sorry." The thief says, reaching to a cartidge on his dark grey belt. "I've had enough of those."​

"Don't do anything stupid," he advises as the criminal grabs something from his belt. "I wouldn't want to hurt you too bad."​

"Not to worry,"the thief replies plesaently. "You won't."Without a second's hesitation, the thief tosses three red "x's" toward Todd. Instantly, Todd raises his arms over his torso and guards, blocking two of the sharp metal shurikens while the third lodges itself in the muscle of his forearm. Todd grunts in pain, lowering his arms and taking hold of the metal dagger, pulling it violently from his arm and tossing it to the floor. As he looks up, he sees the thief running fast, making leaps and jumps to the scaffolding above that rival even his abilities.
"Not bad," he says, impressed.​

"Thanks!"The thief shouts as he leaps onto the high scaffold. "Now, I'm no good at goodbyes, so forgive me if I seem impolite." The thief reaches to his belt again and pulls off a cartridge. He spins it between his fingers, showing off, most likely grinning just like Todd. "It's been fun." He tosses the cartridge downward toward Todd with force, sending it dropping through the air like a rock. Nearly halfway to the floor, the cartridge explodes, sending pieces of fragmented metal and fire everywhere in a thick cloud of gas.​

"Clever," Todd says with a frown. As the pieces of shattered metal hit their targets, they catch fire, igniting in a bright blaze that seems to spread. Todd stares at the burning pieces of metal in shock, surprised and confused by their abilities. "Wasn't expecting that." He mutters in haste.​

Moving fast, Todd runs forward, heading for a small window at the back of the room. As he moves, the fiery metal pieces fall like rain, catching fire to all that they touch and turning the room into a small pocket of hell. Todd raises his arms and closes his eyes as he takes the jump, "Dammit!" He growls as he launches himself forward toward the window. His body hits the glass forcefully, shattering the window to pieces. He moves out of the building and into the air, his body begining to drop quickly, heading downward toward the concrete.​

Thinking fast, Todd rolls, dispersing some of the force of the fall as he hits the ground. His ankle clicks as he somersaults to a stand and he groans, the pain surprisingly strong for such a minor injury. "Alright," Todd says with a scowl. "Now I'm pissed." ​

"Wow, you survived." A voice says from above. Todd looks up to see the thief standing on top of the roof, a story or two above him. "Now I'm impressed."​

"You're making this worse for yourself," Todd says, wincing slightly. "You know that, right?"
"Of course," the thief says proudly. "Oh, by the way-" the thief reaches into his cloak and pulls out a rolled up piece of paper, holding it out toward him, like a human would do to a pet dog. "I found what I was looking for." The thief smiles and tucks the paper back in his cloak, hiding it behind the dark, thick fabric. "Catch you later, Hood." He says, throwing him a lazy salute. The thief turns and runs off, disapearing behind the roof's edge.​

As Todd watches him dissapear, he frowns heavily, his teeth clenching together in frustration. "Right," he starts, rubbing the deep gauge in his forearm gently. "That went well." He says a quick curse under his breath and turns toward the road, making his way toward his motorcycle. As he walks forward, the sound of sirens fills the air, their scream growing louder and louder as they quickly approach. "Oh, good." He says in aggravation. "Now they get here."​