The New Ultimate DC RPG

[Batman]

The streets aren't safe anymore.

I had thought - no, I had hoped - that my continued presence in Gotham had began to fulfill it's absolute effect on the city's criminals. That eventually, my methods would begin to pay off and the mob would relinquish their hold on everything that they had violated with their touch. But in recent days, as the city has dealt with one crisis after the next, I have come to learn the truth: it makes no difference whether Batman exists or not. Despite my earlier beliefs, evil has no identifiable face, and it is made up of no single element to strike against. It is an entity that I cannot hope to control. And while it isn't so much that I believe my intentions were wrong, or that my path was chosen unwisely, I can at least acknowledge that I may have had placed too much idealism into the dream of a Gotham without it's corruption. For that mistake, people may have lost their lives - because I couldn't dare to look past my hopeless devotion to the fight against crime.

But standing where I am now, it all becomes so clear to me. My war has been closer to a losing battle. I may be wearing the costume, or even using the voice - but in my mind, I certainly don't feel like The Batman. I only feel like the man, the lost soul. The child who never truly grew up and learned to accept a harsher reality. Because in Gotham, justice has only become a statistic rather than a dream. Those who speak out against the majority are doomed to have their voices drowned out against the death. I thought that what I was doing was more than that. I put my devotion into practice, and tried to make myself a symbol to inspire fear. But no one is afraid of what I had hoped to truly represent - there was never a threat that evil would subside and a new dawn would fall upon the city. Because this?

This is where justice leads you in Gotham City. Burned to the ground, ashes to ashes.

Despite my initial impressions, I had always believed Harvey Dent was a man that shared my goals. I just didn't realize that until it was far too late. Last night, during the chaos that unfolded at the Maroni wedding, someone had taken Dent's crusade as District Attorney and used it to fuel a clear vendetta. The result was a vicious arson attempt that could have easily cost Dent his life. Now he's lost everything, just because he took a stand against the corrupt. And they could do it to him because he wasn't a coward who hid himself behind a mask, like me. The idea that this could easily one day be Wayne Tower has not escaped my notice. I feel like it's only a matter of time. But Dent, he didn't deserve this. He was the symbol of hope that Gotham needed... the one that I could never be.

It was just that Gotham's mob had other plans. Plans so intricate that even it's own weren't exempt from it's wrath. I just learned this morning that Salvatore Maroni is dead. Despite all that happened and every effort that I had made to save his ungrateful hide, the man still ended up a stain on the streets. I've considered the possibilities of how it happened, and in all likelihood, Bane got to him after all. I honestly wouldn't be surprised - it's just another item to add to my list of failures. I hated Maroni with a passion, and wanted nothing more than to see him rotting away behind the walls at Blackgate, but instead of clear remorse... I feel nothing. And that moment was when I realized that I had truly lost my way. Bruce Wayne, Batman - whoever I really am - they make no difference anymore. Gotham will continue to rot away with blood until it finally dies, giving into anarchy and a clear evolution of it's evil. People like Bane and Belsaraph were only the first.

As I turn to leave the wreckage of Dent's house behind, and figure out where to take my war from here, I hear the hammer of a magnum pistol click behind me. Normally I'd be ready to disarm the shooter in an instant, but I honestly feel like I should just let the bullet come. Instead, I hear a voice call out to me that I didn't expect.

"Don't move."

My eyes widen and my head tilts to the side, locking eyes with a man I've never met, and the last person I expected to be back here so soon. Harvey Dent, the man who lost everything. He stares at me with clear contempt, keeping the gun aimed.

"Just stay there and don't make any sudden movements. I don't want to have to shoot you."

Why is he back? Wouldn't it be painful for him to have to see this right after it was destroyed? I guess it doesn't matter in the moment. This isn't exactly how I wanted to approach Dent and offer my condolences. Nevertheless, he looks me up and down as if to make sure I'm not carrying any weapons. "You're taller than I expected."

I simply stare at him for a moment, before I finally work up the nerve to answer.

"I've gotten that before."

"I'm sure you've gotten alot of things. Like the word 'murderer', for instance."

Even with my guilt, I can't help but give him a look of skepticism.

"If you really believed that, you would have already shot me."

He stares me for what feels like an eternity. Then finally lowers the gun, evidently in agreement.

"Fair enough. What are you doing here?"

"I..."

The words seem lost to me, as my sentence stammers. "I don't actually know. I was about to leave, if you wanted some time alone."

"I'd actually rather you stay, if you don't mind. Even as a DA, it's not often that I get the chance to question a masked vigilante on his ethics."

I ignore the comment the look away.

"What about you? I thought that, given what happened..."

"What happened was yesterday. I'd prefer to keep thinking of it like that as long as I have to. As for what I'm doing here now, well..."

He looks at the wreckage aswell, as his voice takes on a more somber tone than before.

"Force of habit, I guess. This was the only place that I felt like I could get away to after a hard day's work. That sort of thing doesn't really leave you, you know?"

I think of the cave. And realize just how strange it really is. "I do."

"So what would you do if you suddenly found out you couldn't go there, anymore?"

Quietly, I look over to him. The fact that he's even willing to have this conversation with someone like me takes on a new level of surreal.

"I'd probably be glad."

Dent raises an eyebrow. "Didn't expect that answer."

"Didn't expect the question."

He smirks - practically smiles. Another thing I didn't expect out of him after what's happened.

"You know, I've been meaning to get into touch with you for awhile now. Even thought about shining a light into the sky, or something. But since you're here, now, I guess I can just ask you what I've been wanting to ask ever since I became District Attorney."

I don't face him. Mostly because I expect the question to be one I can't handle right now. Like "why?", as is why I failed him and the rest of Gotham. Or why I even continue to bother.

"What are your intentions?"

Paused, my curiosity suddenly becomes piqued. It's the first time that anyone's really asked me that - or at least, given the chance to do so. "What?"

"Your intentions. For the city, I mean. Are you out to abolish the mob, or is it matter of trying to sticking up for the little guy? From everything I've heard about you, there've been a few conflictions."

I honestly don't even know why it would matter to him. But I realize that I can't just ignore the question. Not after I couldn't save his home - I feel like I owe it to him to at least address his evident concerns. No matter how unorthodox they may seem.

"I actually don't know what they are. I started out believing that I could save Gotham from all of it's criminals, but I might have been wrong."

"That sounds like the first step into giving up."

I go quiet for a moment. "Maybe it is."

"Well, do you think you'd want an outsider's perspective?"

Considering what it might be worth to me at this point, I give him a solemn nod.

"The minute that you tell yourself that you were wrong, you're only giving them satisfaction that they don't deserve. I've learned alot since I started taking on thugs like Falcone, but I think the most important lesson that I ever learned was that if you hang onto your ideals, they can't break you. They might feed off of every part of you that they can, but that's the one thing that keeps you strong. It's the key to a brighter future for this city."

I look back at him, but his words mean practically nothing. If he were speaking to a sane man, a man that wasn't dressed like I am, I might be more inclined to believe that I shouldn't let go of my demons. But maybe that's actually the first step into a true progression in my fight.

"I want you to take a hard look at me."

Dent raises an eyebrow. "I can see you just fine."

"Yes. You can see me. This is what I am. Does nothing about this disturb you? A normal man wouldn't begin to dream up a reason to put something like this on every night and try to frighten people. A man with sane ideals wouldn't be what I am."

He's silent, but not nearly as long as I was.

"You can think what you like, but you're missing the point. Whether you dress in a suit or a costume, you're still holding onto hope. I mean, look at me..."

Indicating the debris of his home, he turns back and looks me directly in the eye.

"I've lost pretty much all I cared about. My home is gone, my platform's probably tarnished, and I sure as hell can't even think about what's happened to the woman I love. But I'm still not letting go, no matter what the mob's gonna throw at me. That's what keeps me sane, and I think if you still believe in that, you're not as crazy as you make yourself out to be, either."

I begin to speak and disregard his advice again, but I suddenly stop. What he's saying, I realize, is actually a fair point. I can't begin to look at myself as a sane man, but perhaps if I stay on the same path that Dent hasn't abandoned, even with all that he's lost... maybe I'll at least find the reason to keep trying to make myself better.

Turning back to the man that made me realize this, I suddenly gain a newfound respect for Harvey Dent. In a city full of corruption, he actually may represent the idea that there are still people out there that need to be saved. And while my way to do that might not be the best, it's still a method. And still a reason to keep fighting.

"Maybe you're right."

"I know I am, just be sure to keep it in mind. I may not condone how you're doing what you do, but at least you're actually doing something. That counts for alot in a place like Gotham."

We both look back towards the debris, letting his words hang over us.

"Thank you."

He turns to me again.

"I... haven't said that to many people, but thank you. I needed to hear that after last night."

"You don't need to say it. I'm willing to do whatever helps the city."

"I realize that. Which is exactly why I think I could use your help."

He shoots me an intrigued expression. "I'm listening."

I thought I had lost my way, but Harvey Dent helped show me that there's still something left to believe in.

Even in Gotham City.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

"I... what are you..."

My skin feels like it's on fire! What in God's name is happening? My legs suddenly turn to jelly and collapse underneath of me, forcing me to lean on the conference table for support. My hands still leave large cracked indentations in the table, but the jagged splinters stab into my palms. My invulnerability is gone and my strength is crippled out of my control! I'm not even strong enough to keep myself upright anymore.

With my entire body going haywire and my veins feeling like they're lined with gravel, I finally slump to the floor in a mass of pain as every nerve ending is on fire.

"Lois..." I manage to wheeze out in between strained breaths, unable to even focus my eyes on her any more. "Run..."

This isn't the end. The Justice League will fight. Humanity will fight!

The never ending battle will rage on, Luthor.

Doris begins checking a computerized inventory of the LexCorp stock-pile of supplies for after the Missles have done their jobs.

She periodically checks the monitor to watch the conference room.

My one regret right now is that I am not the one on the verge of destroying Superman. Then again better to be at the right hand of evil than in it's path, and Lex left strict orders Superman was all his and I was not to get involved in anyway.

Once she is finished Doris transports herself to another control room in the base and monitors the progress of the L-Soft program.

 

[Byrd Man]

[YT]cAe1lVDbLf0[/YT]​

The camera's red light blinked on, cuing the forced smile that political commentator Maxwell Lord flashed towards the camera, knowing that he'd be addressing the millions that religiously watched his highly-rated talk show on a weekly basis. "Thanks for joining us, here on Generation Lord - America's #1 source of integrity."

Straightening his posture, Lord faced the second camera that showed him from an entirely different angle. As fast as the teleprompter could produce his words, he resumed. "Our top story this evening comes from just about every corner of the world, as UN heath officials and members of the CDC struggle to make sense of a mysterious epidemic that briefly plagued parts of North and South America, China, Africa, and other continents across the globe, inflicting disorientation and panic among those infected."

"The good news is that, while no identification of the virus has yet been made, researchers have determined that the effects of the epidemic have already passed, prompting just as many questions as the event itself. But while health officials continue to analyze what many predict to be a new form of the Ebola virus, the untold story lies within photos taken in the city of Metropolis at the time of the virus' outbreak. Photos that beg the question of what our self-championed 'heroes' were doing in this time of crisis. Provided to us anonymously from The Daily Planet newsroom, the shots... they tend to speak for themselves."

Blurred images of costumed figures appear across the screen. While hard to say with certainty, they are undeniably shots of costumed vigilantes standing amongst various points of wreckage within Metropolis' streets.

"Stated to be taken within Metropolis' financial district, the first to be identified is the city's own cult vigilante, Superman. He is evidently joined by the likes of Midwestern metahuman speedster The Flash, the rumored superheroine Wonder Woman two others yet to be identified, and even conflicting report of the Gotham City fugitive known as The Batman. What are they doing in the City of Tomorrow? Startlingly, it has been indicated that they were there to, infact, begin pooling their resources and create a new metahuman strike team. It's The Justice Society all over again!"

Heated, Lord turns back to camera one, just as the lights behind him begin to dim. "Now, I've made no attempt to hide my own distaste for costumed vigilantes. In past shows, I've even referenced the countless claims made during the Keene Act hearings of 1987 against supergroups such as the aforementioned Society and Minutemen. Regardless of your stance, it seems that these six seem to have at least contributed to the aide of the infection. But while many remain skeptical of such intentions, this brings us to the question on America's mind - have these new superhumans truly joined forces?"

"That's the worry among most, and relief among some. The Justice Society famously disbanded shortly after the Keene hearings, and The Minutemen quietly followed. Since their disappearance, there have been several attempts to revitalize public interest in metahuman teams, through online campaigns and big-budget Hollywood productions. But if what we're seeing is the vigilantes acting of their own accord, where does that leave us, the normal American citizen? What does this alleged new super-team see us as? If they've truly combined their powers into one entity, what's to stop them from not only enforcing our laws, but enacting their own?"

Maxwell Lord clears his throat, sitting up straight once more. The lights now complimenting him once again as the country's "voice of reason".

"Food for thought, as us ordinary citizens embark on this strange, and what some would call mysterious new world. We'll be back after these messages."

Words are flying out like
endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe ​

Selina Kyle watched as the red dye circled the sink drain, washing away the past few months of toil and torment. She closed her eyes, letting the cold water run over her head. She ran her fingers through her hair, staining them with the blood of her past lives and sins. And when she had finally washed them clean, she brought a handful of fresh water to her lips.

Holly Robinson is dead.

Selina slicked her hair back, looking in the mirror. For the first time in months, she recognized the face on the other side. Her hair, now back to its natural raven black, just barely touched her shoulders. It was a new look, yet a familiar one.

Andrea Beaumont is dead.

Selina buried her face in the white towel. She sauntered out of the bathroom into her bedroom. Soon, she would have no need for this crappy apartment. The events of the past few weeks had invigorated her, given her a purpose. Selina finally knew what she must do.

Seven lives and counting...

Selina smiled, observing her new outfit spread out across the bedsheets in its completed form for the first time.

"Selina Kyle is back."

Pools of sorrow waves of joy
are drifting thorough my open mind
Possessing and caressing me
​

The whiskey bottle was empty. That summed things up conclusively for Jim Gordon. The very last drops of the amber liquid had been drained, and now all that was left was a container that had been useful once, but had since become a husk of it's former meaning. Yes, it was conclusive. Gordon looked at the bottle in his hand, shaking slightly.

"I need to get out," he whispered, a strained thought that escaped violently in a second. He winced, betrayed by himself...

There was a scuffle outside, the sound of something falling heavily on a desk, a loud curse from the offices outside. He growled under his breath and turned around to open the door.

A silhouette stood in the doorway.

"Ethan..." Gordon breathed.

"This is for for Slam,"

BANG

"This is for Romy,"

BANG

"This is for ruining my life,"

BANG

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
​

Nothing's gonna change my world

​

The Question stood over a downed purse-snatcher.The masked vigilante plucked the bag from the unconscious man's hands and walked down the sidewalk towards the victim of the robbery, an elderly grandmother.
"Ma'am, I think this is-"

The masked man was cut off by the sudden jolt of pain. The woman had shoved a taser gun into the crimefighter's gut an jolted him with a few thousand volts of electricity. His whole body shook and he fell to the ground, convulsing in pain. The elderly woman picked up her purse and quickly stepped over the smoking vigilante.

Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
​

J'onn sat in the temple of his ancestors. Charred skeletons were strewn across the ground haphazard, victim of some strange catastrophe. Part of him suspected that the White Martians had eventually ceded to their madness and had destroyed the planet somehow...but it didn't matter now. The entire race was dead. His entire race was dead. His family was dead. J'onn J'onnz walked out of the underground temple and back onto the red desert that had once been his home. He sat down, cross-legged. He took a handful of sand.

"I am sorry that I was gone," he said to his dead wife.

He let the sand fall through his fingers.

Images of broken light which
dance before me like a million eyes
That call me on and on across the universe ​

 

[Byrd Man]

Arkham Asylum

Jason’s eyes fluttered as he slowly regained consciousness. He moaned loudly and he pushed himself up from the ground, causing pieces of mangled wood and broken rocks to cascade from his body. As Jason looked up, he saw a small sphere of light emanating from the hole stories above him. “Great,” he said sardonically, spitting a wad of blood from his mouth.


Peering through the darkness, Jason heard the sound of chirping echoing all around him. “What the-“ He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opening the screen and allowing the faint light to illuminate the expanse of blackness. Suddenly, a swarm of bats surrounded him – forming a funnel around his figure as they circled around the light. As Jason held the phone outward, the bats scattered – flying in the opposite direction, away from the glow. He watched the swarm leave, staring intently as the bats disappeared down the large tunnel filled with rising and falling spires of sharpened rock. A wide grin came over Jason’s bloody face as he realized where he had fallen. “A cave,” he said with a short cackle, strangely amused. “Asylum beneath the Asylum, haha … how ironic,” he laughed. “And convenient…”

Thoughts meander like a
restless wind inside a letter box
they tumble blindly as
they make their way across the universe

"So ole Sal's dead, huh?

Every month, the five crime families of Gotham City would meet in secret to discuss business. It was a tradition honored from generation to generation. But in recent months, the actual attendance of the meetings had declined. Carmine Falcone had been rotting away in Blackgate Penitentiary, Carl Grissom had been savagely murdered, and now the news of Salvatore Maroni's demise was coming in through the press. The three top gangs in Gotham had lost their figureheads in a matter of months, and the ones that remained were starting to feel the pressure creep in.

All except Tony Zucco, the acting head of the Falcone crime family.

"Damn shame,", He stated without the slightest bit of sincerity. "Damn shame. He'll be missed. Anyway, onto new business?"

Though the other bosses were silent, they were all glaring back at the arrogant Zucco, who proudly lit himself a cigar at the head of the table. None of them had been happy with Falcone's replacement, who had been riding his mentor's status through the ground from the moment that he took over. But luckily, thanks to the reassuring headline that would have otherwise trumped the Gotham circuit, that reign was coming to a short and satisfying end.

"No, Zucco. I think we have some old business to discuss first."

It wasn't a second later that a newspaper headline slapped itself across the table, sliding it's way towards the mobster's direction. Taking a puff of his cigar, Zucco smirked as he grabbed the paper and read. "What, they give the old man a good obit?"

"Take look at headline.", The Chechen sternly urged. "You may find interesting."

With a an amused chuckle, Zucco complied. And when his eyes managed to process the thick, black ink into what they read, the cigar was no longer dangling from his mouth. It had hit the floor.

MOBSTER FALCONE BECOMES ELIGIBLE FOR RETRIAL

Everyone in the room smiled, except for Tony Zucco.

"It is damn shame, Zucco. Damn shame."

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

Edward Nygma sat in his brand new office, watching the sunrise over Gotham. He came straight from Dent's house to the office and had been here ever since. He sat in silence for several hours, watching the traffic on the street below ebb and flow.

His suit smelled like soot and ash, his hands reeking of gasoline. The smell of burning flesh still stung his nostrils, and Salvatore Maroni's screams still filled his ear.

He'd done it in one night, taken out two birds with one stone, but why had he done it? To protect himself? To protect Selina?

He'd become a monster, and all he got was a big, empty office and a fancy rank in the police department.

Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

As Wonder Woman approached the campsite where Steve Trevor's truck and camper were parked, she could sense something was wrong. Whereas she could normally see him setting up the fire for the night or hear the clanking of pans as he tried to make dinner, it was eerily quiet and still.

As she touched down, she reverted back to the form of Diana Prince, and called out to him.

"Steve? Are you in there?"

She stepped into the camper, looking around for any sign of her partner. There were dark red spatters of blood on the faux-tile floor, sticking to her boots as she walked towards the sleeping area.

Pulling back the curtain, she saw Steve Trevor, the one person in whom she had confided her secret, with whom she had shared so many intimate moments on the road, lying in their bed, with his throat slashed open. The wound was not a clean one, but four angry gashes.

Claw marks. Almost assuredly the claws of the Cheetah.

Diana's blood began to boil, hot tears building up in her widened eyes. She fought with all of her strength just to stay on her feet, to not break down completely. After letting a few heavy sobs escape, she took in a deep breath....

....and clenched her hands into hardened fists.

Sounds of laughter shades of life
are ringing through my open ears
exciting and inviting me
​

Harvey Dent hated hospitals. Being surrounded by all that death and illness made him uncomfortable. It reminded him of his mother. It reminded him of her losing battle against cancer. He had seen the inside of far too many hospital rooms for one lifetime. Sitting at the side of Gilda's bed, Harvey couldn't help but think about how much he hated hospitals.

Harvey reached out and ran his fingertips along the bandages covering Gilda's face. My beautiful Gilda. She had suffered severe burns in the fire. The entire right side of her face and body had been scarred beyond recognition. The doctors had promised they would do what they can to bring her back, to restore her beauty.

"Excuse me, Mr. Dent?"

Harvey turned his head in the direction of the soft voice. He saw an aging nurse, wrinkles branching out from the corner of her eyes and lips.

"Visiting hours ended twenty minutes ago," she said politely. "Why don't you go home, get some rest?"

Harvey nodded, barely hearing her. He ran his hand down Gilda's side, locking his fingers between hers. He fought the urge to let himself cry in front of this stranger. "Goodnight, Gilda."

The nurse gave him a little smile. Harvey returned the gesture.

"Goodnight."

Limitless undying love which
shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on across the universe

Dawn came upon Gotham City. And in the early hours of the morning, The Batman had already returned to his sanctuary of the caverns beneath Wayne Tower. The cold and dampened air provided him comfort as he stepped off of the Batpod and walked into the central command center, promptly unbuckling his utility belt and placing it on a nearby rack. It had been a long and hard night, but worth the effort to distract him from the troubling events of his recent weeks.

Removing his cowl, Bruce Wayne stared back at himself in the reflection of his computer screen. It told the tale of a tired young man that had began to question if what he was doing, a mission that some would call insane or even impossible, was even worth the means anymore. Most people his age were thinking about the future, where they would spend their remaining years with wives, children, and families. All that Wayne could foresee in his future was more of the same routine - coming home to a darkened cave, pulling teeth out of his mouth and sewing together open, bloodied wounds.

Normally, such thoughts of doubt wouldn't have even entered his mind, but he had lately experienced some setbacks. Notably with the death of Salvatore Maroni, said to have leapt out of his office window in an extreme bid to protect himself from the people that had come to kill him. While it was rather sudden, and uncharacteristic of the proud Maroni, the police hadn't questioned the story and quickly ruled it a suicide. But regardless, Wayne felt as if he could have done something to prevent it. As he felt he could have in saving the countless others who had lost their lives in his meaningless struggle, that night. Leading him back his original question - in the end, had he make a mistake in dedicating his life to this insanity?

"Never"

Eyes widened, Wayne peered back into the darkness of the cave's unused corners, searching for the origin of what he had heard. He waited for a few moments, thinking that whoever was in the shadows would come out to reveal themselves. But nothing came. Instead, all he found that he was still alone. Still draped in the silence and solitude that the cave had to offer. And the voice, Bruce Wayne thought to himself, had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

"God...", he finally whispered, staring back into his own reflection,"What's happened to me?"



​

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

"Amazing, isn't it?" Lex Luthor said as he stared admiringly at the glowing green jewel on his ring. "It's a radioactive isotope of extraordinary energy, with a signature that is completely harmless to anyone without the same base chemical structure--as in, anyone not from the same planet as the rock itself. Which means, this is a little souvenir from your homeworld, Superman. What was it called, I wonder?"

"...K-.....Krypton...." Superman said, his breath coming in ragged gasps, powerful waves of nausea rising up through him as he withered in the presence of the poisonous rock.

"Krypton....very dramatic sounding name. I suppose it's only fitting that this little gem here bears the same name. Kryptonium? Kryptonogen? Kryptonite? Yes, that sounds perfectly good. This little pebble of Kryptonite reacts with your cellular structure in such a way that it releases all of that stored energy you've got in there and causes the cells to break down. It's going to be a very, very painful death, I'm afraid, but fortunately for you, a relatively short one. I'd say you have maybe ninety seconds left."

Luthor adjusted the timer on his watch, simultaneously linking it with the combined nuclear arsenals of the world's major countries.

"In ninety seconds' time, Superman dies, and the world itself comes crashing down, to be molded back in my image."

He looked over to the horrified Lois Lane, who seemed torn between looking for a way out of the lunar base and finding a sharp object to jam into Lex's throat.

"I do hope you're getting all this, Miss Lane. After all, your words will be the ones that tell the world my story, of what I had to do to create the paradise that's coming. I find that reporters have a better sense of capturing the moment than historians, don't you?"

With that, Luthor walked over to the conference table and sat down at its head, turning his chair towards the window and the Earth below. With the captive Lois Lane at one side and the sickened and dying Superman at the other, Luthor allowed himself a genuine smile.

"Sixty more seconds.....then, the world is mine."

Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

Jai guru deva
​

Jai guru deva
​

TO BE CONTINUED IN SEASON TWO OF THE ULTIMATE DC RPG!
​