Gotham: A New Generation (IC)

[Fronket]

Detective Maggie Sawyer

“I won’t be going with you, I’m afraid. I have urgent business with the residents of this home.” He reached up and grabbed the barrel of the gun. He tightened his grip on the barrel. “Now, I’m going to request you leave. I will handle these vigilantes on my own. Let the GCPD rest on their laurels, after all you have discovered the identity of the Batman.”

Maggie wasn’t about to be intimidated or bribed by this WWE hunk. She proceeded to kick this man in the stomach (not doing much damage), and then tried wrestling her gun free from his clenched fist, firing a few shots into his hand in the process. Maggie managed to grab the dented pistol back, triumphantly aiming at the man’s leg and firing. But alas, she was empty.

“Oh fuck,” she muttered, chucking the useless pistol aside and standing in a defensive stance, ready to fight.

[Haedros 92712]

Detective Maggie Sawyer

“I won’t be going with you, I’m afraid. I have urgent business with the residents of this home.” He reached up and grabbed the barrel of the gun. He tightened his grip on the barrel. “Now, I’m going to request you leave. I will handle these vigilantes on my own. Let the GCPD rest on their laurels, after all you have discovered the identity of the Batman.”

Maggie wasn’t about to be intimidated or bribed by this WWE hunk. She proceeded to kick this man in the stomach (not doing much damage), and then tried wrestling her gun free from his clenched fist, firing a few shots into his hand in the process. Maggie managed to grab the dented pistol back, triumphantly aiming at the man’s leg and firing. But alas, she was empty.

“Oh fuck,” she muttered, chucking the useless pistol aside and standing in a defensive stance, ready to fight.

Bane simply stared at the woman. He then began to advance. “A shame. I’d hoped you would be a bit more cooperative, but it turns out, you’re just like Ms. Clifford. Stubborn as a mule, and trigger happy to boot.” He laughed as the woman took up a defensive stance. He stepped forward again, entering his own combat stance.

[Fronket]

Detective Maggie Sawyer


Maggie wasn’t about to be intimidated or bribed by this WWE hunk. She proceeded to kick this man in the stomach (not doing much damage), and then tried wrestling her gun free from his clenched fist, firing a few shots into his hand in the process. Maggie managed to grab the dented pistol back, triumphantly aiming at the man’s leg and firing. But alas, she was empty.

“Oh fuck,” she muttered, chucking the useless pistol aside and standing in a defensive stance, ready to fight.

Bane simply stared at the woman. He then began to advance. “A shame. I’d hoped you would be a bit more cooperative, but it turns out, you’re just like Ms. Clifford. Stubborn as a mule, and trigger happy to boot.” He laughed as the woman took up a defensive stance. He stepped forward again, entering his own combat stance.

Maggie surged forward, shoving her head into the man’s lower body (she was beginning to suspect that this was Bane, because of his hatred for vigilantes). After failing to topple him over and dodging some blows, Maggie threw a few punches at his arm. The impact was so tough that Maggie suspected that she’d sprained her left wrist. The cop slipped between Bane’s legs, stretching out her arms and desperately tried to flip the man over from underneath his legs.

[Yaana Noore]

---

---

She gazed up at the GCPD building from across the street, watching figures run hurriedly in and out. Seemed like something busy was going on in there, but then it always seemed like the case with this city. The hustle and bustle within the police headquarters meant that nobody would notice one blonde woman skulking into the alley beside the building.

Harley glanced up at the series of stairs on the side of the thing, just a few feet above her. Fire escapes - always a convenient way of access as well as an exit. All she needed to do was get the ladders down...

She was soon scrambling her way up and onto the roof top. Nobody was around except for her, with all the action going on downstairs. It was at night when this part of the building came alive. Or at least, it used to. It was just Harley Quinn and her target - the Bat-signal.

It was an incredibly ineffective way of communicating with someone, Batsy had always been an incredibly high-tech guy. Surely he would have had some sort of Bat-phone or something wireless for ease of communication with Gordy if really needed, but where it made little sense in terms of organisation, the value of it as a symbol was very clear. Batman was quite the psychological guy. Sure, he was super strong and could beat lotsa guys to a pulp if you were stupid enough to challenge him outright, but most were not. Most had knives, or even guns and B-man did not. A calm dude with a gun was dangerous to Batman, but a scared guy with a gun was dangerous to everyone; Batman, his friends, himself. Fear made a guy act all erratic. Batman was good at scaring people. Just seeing the bat-symbol in the sky did wonders for the morale of the cops, knowing that they had an ace in the hole that night. And the civvies, them people were a little bit more stubborn, more brave, more ready to help and try and do the good guy thing. For her own guys, a lot of them were afraid, worried, terrified. The Joker looked forward to seeing that symbol in the sky as much as any cop did, perhaps even more, but your average criminal found the light to be the stuff of nightmares, the foreshadowing of their doom.

Harley herself hated it. Not because she was scared, she had spent far too much time with silly Batman and become too acquainted with his methods to be scared. Some people actually were scared that he would kill them, could you believe? But Harl hated it because it was all the Joker had lived for. Everything he did, it was just to see that stupid little bat in the heavens. Harleen Quinzel had liked to think that it was Batman that was driving the Joker crazy, and that it was Batman's fault. Batman defined his collection of rogues, Mr. J, Riddler, Two-Face, Hush, their meaning was beating Batman. No Batman, no Joker, no bad guys. Without the Batman, Mr. J could finally be normal, settle down...

She was sorta right. No Batman did mean no Joker, but it did not mean normal. Without Batsy, Mr. J simply lost all passion in his work before disappearing, leaving Harley behind. No Batman meant no Joker, which meant no Harley Quinn. It did not mean no bad guys, only a worse Gotham.

It wasn't meant to be that way though, without Batman it was meant to just be her and Mr. J, happy and together forever. But he had abandoned her. Batman wasn't standing in the way of anything at all, in fact, he was the one keeping them together. Harley laughed to herself. It was pretty funny, but now that Batman and the Joker were gone and she had the chance to think for herself, she was actually missing the former much more than the latter.

The Joker had obsessed so much about the stupid signal, he actually had a plan for what to do with it once he finally managed to beat the stupid Bat. She, Mr. J, Riddler, Scarecrow, Clayface and more had all made a little agreement on what they would do together, Scout's honour. They'd put on the Bat-signal, and flip the little light upside down so it looked like a dead bat instead. Funny. She turned the searchlight around to have a look at it.

"Huh," she mused to herself, upon seeing that it was not longer a bat on the light anyway, but a black question mark had been painted onto the light. It was like a direct question that stabbed straight at the heart of her journey. She had hoped to see the bat, the thing that she too had indirectly defined herself by, but the symbol to see was a question mark, and it was a good question. Who am I? Was she Harleen Quinzel, ace ex-psychiatrist from Brooklyn, New York? Harley Quinn, the Clown Princess of Crime, from Arkham, Gotham City? Or someone else entirely?

[Skarten]

The Assailant

Jules looked out of the window of his manor, pondering what to do next. He had used the distraction from the other vigilante girl fleeing as his own ticket to freedom, evading the men in blue enough time to get home, back to his unsuspecting identity of a High-end businessman.Such new events had made vigilantism nearly impossible, and, while he suspected it was but a ruse, after the assasination of the mayor by (what was said to be) "batman", caped heroes such as him were now rather unpopular on the city.

While many would take this as the end to such foolishly dangerous career, this was not the case for Jules Vaurban.For, even though there was great danger, his motivation continued as strong as it was, for turning back and fleeing would be an act of cowardice.

But for now, he had to deal with business.The events that had happened had shaken the city and affected all, including his daylight life.

After all, even after such major events, life continued.

[Tamrida]

Dr. Byron Meredith/Merrymaker
Dr. Byron Meredith was no longer safe in Gotham, his encounter with the younger Dent made him realize that. He had made some enemies that he wouldnt be able to defend against. The change towards an anarchistic Gotham also didn't suit him, but it did make for good business. He managed to sell his arms and explosives for much higher prices then average. He also sold his house, shuttered his practice, dropped the storage building, called off the bank robbery, and covered his tracks. All he had left to do was leave Gotham and lay low for a while, with his new found wealth that shouldn't be too hard. As the plane took off he knew that he could finally rest easily, leaving the city behind him.

[Personal Freedom]

The Imposter Mad Hatter
Iceberg Lounge

As he left the building and walked to the car, it was still unbelievable to the imposter that the Iceberg Lounge had reduced to rubble. Whoever would be bold enough to do such a thing had to be regarded with serious caution. The token read "Midtown Penny Arcade" and it was all he to go off of as for what had happened to the Lounge so it was there he would find an answer and perhaps an ally. Still, he was not going to walk in and naively expect to be greeted in a friendly manner. One always had to prepare for the worst possible outcome and so just before firing the boiler again, he made a call to his associates on his burner phone.

"Listen. Change of plans for tonight. Meet me with five men at the Midtown Penny Arcade in about two hours. I've got a few errands to do first. Keep a low profile, and I don't have to tell you to be armed."

Hanging up he turned to the pressing matter at hand, starting this steam-powered contraption. Luckily some of the more extensive modification done to it meant that it was simply more efficient. The gauges still read about right and even with the amount of steam the engine had given off earlier, there was enough water to keep the boiler from exploding. It started with a hiss before the regular, rhythmic shuffling started and the car was on in its way, though the imposter Hatter was not exactly sure where he was going. Looking down at the dash there appeared to just be a small GPS that had been rather hastily taped to the car, as he hit the one button to see the logo GARMIN™ he started laughing. It would do.

---

Rashida Al-Ansari
Home

Absolute and total failure, that was all that had come of tonight. Without the explosives, she would not be able to complete her raid on the Bingum Estate, and with seemingly ever bank in Gotham in some sort of heist there wasn't anywhere that immediately came to mind as to where she could get the funds to purchase them. Even Gotham's museum had more or less been destroyed in the chaos of the week. At least she had a car again, no thanks to this mess of a city. Whatever happened with that meteor, anyway? Did the government just whisk it away? Hell, it could have been another Superman. There was not much to do tonight... tomorrow would be a different story, though she would certainly have to attend to the Pawn Shop. It had been closed for too many days now. Since Rashida was going to stay in for the rest of the night, she decided to lie down on her couch and turned on the radio. It occurred to her that she could probably get a television in this apartment, sure a new one was expensive and her last one had died, but there were several in the shop. For now, the radio would have to do and with a crackle of static, it was on.

"Violence escalating in the wake of the assassination. Here at WGCT Gotham Contemporary, it is our duty to reassure citizens that this state of anarchy will not stand! The Gotham PD has requested for National Guard support during this time as the crackdown of vigilante and so-called "supervillain" violence continues to minimize the threat to the people of Gotham posed by these violent criminals. Chief among those criminals, the Batman, responsible for the death of mayor..."

What? Batman killed the mayor? What is this? That just doesn't seem to make sense... and the military is coming which is not going to be pleasant... then again it's absolute anarchy out there. Without the... disaster earlier. There's still been destruction of the docks... bank robberies... the destruction of that museum, the meteor... and I know I'm forgetting something. The university, there was an attacked there as well. This is going to be interesting.

[Nevrintik]

Fah Loon Ji-tann

This is the most terrifying city I have ever seen.

This is what the self-proclaimed monk and independent vigilante Fah Loon Ji-tann thought to himself upon entering and getting to know the city of Gotham. In his dreams, he had seen a city writhe with crime and discord, where villainy roamed freely and the average civilian was but a pawn of a greater power. Could that have been a premonition? Was this the terrible city he had seen in his dreams? Either way, he knew what he had to do. Fah would do anything he could to help bring peace and tranquility to the populace of this god-forsaken city, just as he had helped many a neophyte criminal do in the past.

The only question was how he would do it. He had a feeling that to survive alone in this urban dystopia would be but a fool's venture. His skill alone was beyond that of many people, but it could only go so far. From what he had witnessed during his time of sneaking through the city, crime was commonplace and danger lurked in every nook and cranny of the city. He needed an ally. Were there like-minded compassionate heroes within the emotional confines of Gotham? Could a spark of hope be waiting for its needed kindling somewhere in the city? There was no better time to begin than now.

As he had given many an individual peace and tranquility in the past, now came the ultimate test: bringing peace and tranquility to a forgotten city built on fear and corruption... The road would be long and treacherous, but he felt that the fruits of his labor would be sweeter than any dish...

[Haedros 92712]

Bane simply stared at the woman. He then began to advance. “A shame. I’d hoped you would be a bit more cooperative, but it turns out, you’re just like Ms. Clifford. Stubborn as a mule, and trigger happy to boot.” He laughed as the woman took up a defensive stance. He stepped forward again, entering his own combat stance.

Maggie surged forward, shoving her head into the man’s lower body (she was beginning to suspect that this was Bane, because of his hatred for vigilantes). After failing to topple him over and dodging some blows, Maggie threw a few punches at his arm. The impact was so tough that Maggie suspected that she’d sprained her left wrist. The cop slipped between Bane’s legs, stretching out her arms and desperately tried to flip the man over from underneath his legs.

Bane chuckled as Maggie tried desperately to use his weight against him, and send him flying to the ground. While she was strong, Bane had the advantage, as he was over 300 lbs of pure muscle, thus the woman’s efforts were simply wasted. Bane reached behind him, and grabbed the woman by the wrist, lifting her up and staring her in the eyes. A chuckle came from Banes throat, sounding more like a growl. “Forgive me miss, but I must cut out time short. I do have goals to accomplish here, after all.” At this, he tossed the woman down the hallway and into a wall, then turned and continued on his path.

[Main Nation Ministry]

"This might be our final scene for the day! Come on, people! If we nail this scene, we can have enough time to film the scene where the Terror carries his victim to the car! Now! Take 5! Lights, Camera, and....ACTION!"

The Night of Monday

Douglas Yermo was smoking a cigarette in his office, as he looked outside his window. His mouth was near the phone, as he was talking to a potential buyer on the "product" he had in his lab.
"Look, will you bring the money?"
"..."
"I will let you see it, so you know that it's real!"
"..."
"They only think we use our make-up on animals! No one else suspects a thing!"

Outside the factory, The Terror and The Fright both arrived on Antonie's bike, where Lizzie was sitting behind Antonie, as he parked his bike near a chain link fence. Getting out the camera, Antonie took a quick snapshot of the factory to confirm they were there. Creeping towards the front enterance, The Fright stopped The Terror from entering, as someone at the front desk would see them. Looking for another way in, both of them saw the loading dock, where one of the bay doors were halfway open. "Seems to be faulty. Probably thought raccoons were only going to come in here." The Terror said, as they were entering a small storage area, but they saw a catwalk above them. Knowing they were on the bottom floor, they decided to investigate on the bottom floor.

Meanwhile, outside the factory, a black car parked itself at the front entrance, where a sharply dressed man with a hat exited the driver's seat and walked to the front double doors of the factory with a leather briefcase. Entering the dark lobby, the man looked around if anyone was nearby, until.... he felt the touch of something warm on his shoulder, where he turned away to find the head of security Vincent Brietkopf, smiling eerily at him. "Jesus! Who the hell are you!? Where's Yermo! I came to see it!" "Now, now. Yermo requests that he sees the money, first." Vincent told the man, as he thought Vincent looked like Dracula.

"Gillespie, my friend! You have came to acquire one of my prized and rather interesting possessions. Sorry for the delay." Yermo appeared from an upstairs balcony that overlooked the lobby, as he went down the stairs to greet Gillespie. Please come with me upstairs. Brietkopf, may you check, if the product is still there. And make sure that our meeting will go uninterrupted." Yermo said to Brietkopf, as he nodded. Yermo and Gillespie went into the office, while Brietkopf entered the main factory area. The moment he entered, he already heard some noises. Intruders, he mostly thought as he walked on top of the catwalks to find the source of the sound.

Around a large vat of some soapy substance labeled a common ingredients found in make-up, The Terror and The Fright started checking labels on chemical vats to determine, if there were any suspicious ingredients or chemicals. "You see anything? Most of this just seems like stuff you find within fish scales." The Terror said, as while he looked closer at one of the labels which seemed to have a red skull and crossbones symbol on it. "Hang on. This looks like something. Get the camera ready." The Terror got out the camera, where after snapping a photo, he noticed some stairs leading up to the catwalks to observe the chemicals in the vats. Both the Terror and the Fright slowly walked upstairs onto the catwalk over a strange type of chemical in the vat below. "What is that? It looks like...clay?" The Terror said, as he pointed his camera down to take a photo.

That was when Brietkopf appeared behind The Fright herself, as he immediately put his gloved hands around her neck, where she let out a scream, alerting The Terror. "Lizzie! Get your hands off her!" The Terror rushed to The Fright's aide to subdue the attacker, dropping the camera on the catwalk, as Brietkopf was trying to keep his hands around The Fright. However, The Terror still managed to put up a fight, where Brietkopf had to let go of The Fright to counter The Terror. However, during the scuffle, Brietkopf made one of the most fatal mistakes that will send him 6 feet under. He rammed his shoulder into the chest of The Fright, where after losing her balance, proceeded to fall over the railing into the chemical vat.

The Terror saw this happen and was briefly distracted to shout out The Fright's name in despair, as he leaned over the railing to see her struggling to stay on the surface. Brietkopf used this opportunity to grab The Terror's cape and wrapping it around his neck, tugged as hard as possible to have his classical modus operandi be performed once again. Lizzie, who at first, didn't look like she wasn't in any danger from being soaked in the chemical, suddenly started to feel the pain, as her fingers were starting to shrivel up like dried sausages as they turned gray. The worst part was when Lizzie's glasses started to melt while she was wearing them. Brietkopf did thought the chemical was some sort of acid, but he didn't expect her glasses to melt first. Lizzie's own clothing started to stick to her own skin, as if it was fusing together. As Lizzie's lower body has been turned into a grey-colored primordial soup, her arms started to look skeletal and looked to be made outta rubber. As Lizzie started to drown within, the last thing Brietkopf saw was Lizzie's face before it all turned into a gray substance. Brietkopf peered over the railing, actually surprised at what happened to his female victim. However, it didn't matter, as he needed to show the now deceased intruder that was wearing the silly Halloween costume.

While Brietkopf did get enjoy the sight of his recent victims, he did admit he didn't expect to see the girl be turned into what looked like a mass of grey goo. The chemical itself seemed to have been turning dark grey, as if the wrong ingredient has spoiled the batch. As Brietkopf proceeded to drag Antonie's body by the cape to Yermo to show what he did to the intruders in the factory, he heard a loud gunshot. Exiting the factory area, he saw Yermo's buyer point a pistol at Brietkopf. "What do you want? Where's Yermo?" Brietkopf asked, casually while he leaned to his side to see Yermo's dead body. "That bastard tried to trick me into charging me extra! Now, where is it! Where's the product! And who the hell is that?!" Gillespie demanded, as he saw Brietkopf's victim. "Calm down! If you want it, then follow me. Just don't shoot me."

Going downstairs into the lab, which was near the factory exit to the lobby, Brietkopf unlocked the door where Gillespie rushed in with his gun to look around. The lab seemed like a typical room to test new make-up, but the large coolers in the back of the room seemed to show something interesting. Brietkopf unlocked the padlock on one of the coolers and let Brietkopf open it. "Go ahead. I know what Yermo told me. He said the gallbladders are inside." Brietkopf explained, as Gillespie grabbed two of them outta the cooler. "Hang on! The hell is this?" Gillespie grabbed a large container of something marked with the words "Re-Nu". "What is that?"
"I thought you knew? Yermo told you what was in these coolers, right?"
"I know, but I never checked them! This looked familiar!" Brietkopf recognized the substance inside the container as the one in the vat that he threw the girl in. "Hang on, what's Re-Nu?" Brietkopf said, as he began to connect some dots, but not all of them. The substances in the container were of different substance, while the one in the vat Yermo managed to somehow diluted it, attempting to extract something within the compound. Maybe that was why Yermo had the bear gallbladders in the coolers, as Yermo was trying to open up some sort of underground pharmaceutical business.
"Beats me! I'm getting the rest of these for myself! And I'm keeping the money for myself! You hear me!"

Vincent Brietkopf frowned. His boss was already dead, meaning he was forced to quit his job. Plus, the authories will immediately question him and haul him back to the state to be sentenced to life. As Vincent left the lab, he heard strange screaming from some sort of inhuman source. Was it an animal? No, can't be. Vincent heard that it was coming up from the catwalks. Vincent looked around the factory, thinking it was another intruder, when he went back to the vat to see it completely empty. The chemicals within the vat must have been absorbed into the girl. But he didn't see anything grey or any dead body. It was just empty. That was when he heard something....behind him. The enraged scream was followed by a spike made outta clay that proceeded to impale Briefkopf in the back, as the curse was fulfilled.

When Gillespie had his hands full with bear gallbladders, he ran upstairs planning on getting the hell out of there, where he noticed someone on the catwalks. Was that Briefkopf? He was just standing there with a blank expression on his face. "The hell are you looking at?" Gillespie said, as Briefkopf collapsed in front of his eyes on the catwalk, showing a large wound on the back of the now former head of security. In front of him now was a terrifying humanoid monster. It was grey and seemed to have the skin of some sort of clay-like substance. It's green eyes showed that it was in rage and was in pain. Of course, if anyone knows the typical bad decisions that horror movie victims in slasher flicks, Gillespie did one of these bad decisions. In an attempt to fend off the monster, he proceeded to drop everything and shoot at the monster with his pistol. The bullets didn't do anything, as this pissed off the monster further.

Outside the factory, one of the windows was suddenly shattered open as Gillispie went flying out, screaming. The only thing that he landed on before he ended up dead was his rental car, as his head crashed through the windshield and his legs managed to go through the roof of the car. Greyface stumbled out through the front doors, as it has now became a monster of superhuman abilities. Greyface confused and still in rage on what has happened to them started to wonder home, where it started to shed a single tear from one of it's eyes.

---

"I wonder what his father told him when he was young. What he didn't want his son to see. What he didn't want him to become. And the more I look at this masterpiece known as Metamorphosis, the more I see the influence it took from the Terror. For a man like Basil Karlo, he might be one of the best actors that I witnessed. However, it still will be known that the best and worst of actors has yet to come." - A quote from a review of Metamorphsis by film critic Horton Zemeckis.

[Fronket]

Maggie surged forward, shoving her head into the man’s lower body (she was beginning to suspect that this was Bane, because of his hatred for vigilantes). After failing to topple him over and dodging some blows, Maggie threw a few punches at his arm. The impact was so tough that Maggie suspected that she’d sprained her left wrist. The cop slipped between Bane’s legs, stretching out her arms and desperately tried to flip the man over from underneath his legs.

Bane chuckled as Maggie tried desperately to use his weight against him, and send him flying to the ground. While she was strong, Bane had the advantage, as he was over 300 lbs of pure muscle, thus the woman’s efforts were simply wasted. Bane reached behind him, and grabbed the woman by the wrist, lifting her up and staring her in the eyes. A chuckle came from Banes throat, sounding more like a growl. “Forgive me miss, but I must cut out time short. I do have goals to accomplish here, after all.” At this, he tossed the woman down the hallway and into a wall, then turned and continued on his path.

Maggie staggered to her feet upon making a deep crack in the wall, just to slump to the floor again. She could feel a bit of blood matted on her hair, and her head was spinning. A couple of her fingers on her left hand and toes on her right foot were completely motionless; they had to be sprained. Maggie knew that Bane was not a force to be trifled with. But she was determined to do what was right. She knew that Harvey wouldn’t be of any help; he probably was kissing Bane’s butt. No, she and Madison would have to investigate him themselves. For now, she would just have to gain GCPD fame and glory for discovering the location of the Disciples and possibly Batman’s identity.

Speaking of Madison...

Maggie dragged herself upstairs, limping on her left leg and gripping the banister with her right hand digits. She glanced at an open door, where an unconscious Tim Drake was lying on the floor. She saw the open window. Maggie forced herself to the ledge, finding Madison writhing on the hard surface below. Maggie pulled her walkie talkie out, desperately gasping into it:

“Officer Sawyer speaking. We have detected the location of target. Two suspects are in custody.” Maggie decided to neglect mentioning Bane. He could finish whatever job he wanted; Maggie didn’t care if he snapped Robin’s neck. “ Officer Clifford and I are injured. Backup is needed. Over and out.”

[United States of Brainy]

Batgirl

She had awoken too late. All Babs could do now was follow in the wreckage that the maniac had left behind. As she ran down the upstairs hallway, she found Tim sprawled on the floor, motionless, blood seeping from the back of his head. Babs checked his pulse. Still alive, thank god!

The bedroom window, no, the entire wall, had been smashed apart as if a wrecking ball had punched a hole through it! Peering through the opening, she spotted one of the cops that had arrested Alfred and Steph, slumped on the lawn like a broken doll. She needed to check on the woman but the sounds of more fighting came from downstairs.

Another cop, no doubt the woman’s partner, started limping up the stairwell. Babs didn’t need a fight with the cops right now so she leapt off the second floor railing, landing in a crouch at the far end of the main hallway. Away from the monster responsible for this all, his back to her, heading toward the helpless pair handcuffed to the base of the stairs. My god, he’s huge! He must have been 6’5”, 300lbs, all muscle. He’s even bigger than Killer Croc!

A doubt entered her mind, whether she could actually defeat this guy. But she had to try. For Alfred and Steph’s sake if no one else’s.

She had to avoid tight spaces, couldn’t let this guy box her in and corner her. She needed room to maneuver. A big, open area…like the large, circular drawing room right behind her. Perfect. But first, I need to get his attention…

A barrage of stun grenades and flashbangs exploded all around Bane. Enough to take down a dozen men but Babs had no faith that they would do more than faze the brute. “Hey! Lucha libre! How about we take this into another room?” Babs ran into the drawing room, hoping that the big guy would follow. And that he wouldn’t see the thin tripwire drawn across the entranceway, a few inches above the floor. The ends of which had been wrapped around a pair of marble columns, weighting several hundred pounds each. And ready to topple over onto the rampaging maniac at the slightest tug on the wire.

[Nevrintik]

Fah Loon Ji-tann

Fah looked at the large manor from a safe distance. After hearing rumors of a great struggle within that general area, Fah had to go and investigate the ensuing chaos. He had heard rumors regarding factions of costumed terrorists battling each other around the city; one even brutally killed the city's mayor on live TV. With scores of terrorists running amok around Gotham, Fah would need to be careful with what he did and where he went.

The area known as the property of Wayne Manor looked like a complete battleground. Police cars blocked the main entrance and the Manor had occasional damage all around the main building. As a sworn ally of order and peace, Fah would do his best to help end conflict in whichever form it may take. Ready to do what was needed, he approached the Manor and sought a way inside.

[Haedros 92712]

Batgirl

She had awoken too late. All Babs could do now was follow in the wreckage that the maniac had left behind. As she ran down the upstairs hallway, she found Tim sprawled on the floor, motionless, blood seeping from the back of his head. Babs checked his pulse. Still alive, thank god!

The bedroom window, no, the entire wall, had been smashed apart as if a wrecking ball had punched a hole through it! Peering through the opening, she spotted one of the cops that had arrested Alfred and Steph, slumped on the lawn like a broken doll. She needed to check on the woman but the sounds of more fighting came from downstairs.

Another cop, no doubt the woman’s partner, started limping up the stairwell. Babs didn’t need a fight with the cops right now so she leapt off the second floor railing, landing in a crouch at the far end of the main hallway. Away from the monster responsible for this all, his back to her, heading toward the helpless pair handcuffed to the base of the stairs. My god, he’s huge! He must have been 6’5”, 300lbs, all muscle. He’s even bigger than Killer Croc!

A doubt entered her mind, whether she could actually defeat this guy. But she had to try. For Alfred and Steph’s sake if no one else’s.

She had to avoid tight spaces, couldn’t let this guy box her in and corner her. She needed room to maneuver. A big, open area…like the large, circular drawing room right behind her. Perfect. But first, I need to get his attention…

A barrage of stun grenades and flashbangs exploded all around Bane. Enough to take down a dozen men but Babs had no faith that they would do more than faze the brute. “Hey! Lucha libre! How about we take this into another room?” Babs ran into the drawing room, hoping that the big guy would follow. And that he wouldn’t see the thin tripwire drawn across the entranceway, a few inches above the floor. The ends of which had been wrapped around a pair of marble columns, weighting several hundred pounds each. And ready to topple over onto the rampaging maniac at the slightest tug on the wire.

Bane took the bait. He was still somewhat disoriented from the grenades, he turned and marched towards Batgirl, and tripped the wire. The columns fell onto him, seemingly crushing him. The rubble did not shift further. It seemed as if victory had been achieved. And then, the rubble burst upwards, away from a spot in the middle of the room. He was alive, seemingly completely unharmed. The left side of his mask was covered in damage, and nearly obliterated, revealing much of the face. His skin was covered it went like scars and veins, glowing green like the pipes in his back. His eye, in full view now, was pure black, with red veins glowing and pulsing within the monstrous organ. “Hmm... you are clever, but hasty. You took little time to analyze my weakness before making a risky move, one that has ultimately cost you.” At this, he cracked his knuckles, and pressed a button on his gauntlet. The pressure of the chemical flow in his back increased, and his eye began pulsing more rapidly. His muscles bulged and tensed, and he let out a bone chilling howl. “Now, I will break you.”

[United States of Brainy]

Bane took the bait. He was still somewhat disoriented from the grenades, he turned and marched towards Batgirl, and tripped the wire. The columns fell onto him, seemingly crushing him. The rubble did not shift further. It seemed as if victory had been achieved. And then, the rubble burst upwards, away from a spot in the middle of the room. He was alive, seemingly completely unharmed. The left side of his mask was covered in damage, and nearly obliterated, revealing much of the face. His skin was covered it went like scars and veins, glowing green like the pipes in his back. His eye, in full view now, was pure black, with red veins glowing and pulsing within the monstrous organ. “Hmm... you are clever, but hasty. You took little time to analyze my weakness before making a risky move, one that has ultimately cost you.” At this, he cracked his knuckles, and pressed a button on his gauntlet. The pressure of the chemical flow in his back increased, and his eye began pulsing more rapidly. His muscles bulged and tensed, and he let out a bone chilling howl. “Now, I will break you.”

Batgirl

As the massive blocks of broken marble piled atop her foe and the dust hung in the air, hope rose within Babs. But still she had to prepare just in case. And her fears proved justified as the juggernaut erupted through the rubble. Despite her steely resolve, the crimefighter gasped at the hideous appearance of the muscle-bound villain. The uncovered part of his face was an ooze of bulging veins and mottled skin. The one eye peering at her through the shattered mask a thing of pure evil.

Still, Babs would not be cowered. Even when he activated his control pad, injecting even more steroids into his veins, bulking him up to an incredible mass, she stood her ground. In typical supervillain fashion, he started gloating. “Yeah, I get it,” she shot back. “You’re big, mean AND ugly. And as far as weaknesses, I did have time to learn at least one.” She grinned. “You don’t look up.” She pointed a finger at the ceiling. At the giant chandelier hanging over Bane’s head. Surrounded by a ring of blinking batarangs. She threw a razor-bat, neatly slicing through the chandelier chain and the massive 128-light crystal fixture fell. "The only thing you're breaking, buddy, is the furniture."

She flicked the cap on the pen-size detonator she had in her hand and clicked the tiny red button. The ring of explosive batarangs detonated. Fighting on your home field had its advantages. Like…knowing what was above the chandelier.


There was a tremendous cracking of wood and plaster and then the grand piano from the second floor music room came crashing through the hole in the ceiling. Let’s see you shake THAT off. A grim expression on her face, Batgirl calmly reached for her grapnel, removed the hook and locked on a special attachment. Just in case…

[Personal Freedom]

Rashida Al-Ansari
The Pawn Shop

It was time to return to the day job, Rashida had been neglecting for several days. Money was hard to come by when you hoarded your fortune of kleptomaniac treasures for your own enjoyment and only made pocket change for a living. Pulling out the key she reached out to grab the handle to unlock the door, making a mental note of the flimsiness of the lock, but this was forgotten instantly as a sharp pain shot up from her hand. Shocked she looked down at her to see blood well up and what appeared to be pieces of glass in her palm.

"Shit. Fucking glass! Why is their fucking glass on this door?" Rashida yammered as kicked open the door and rushed in behind the counter, grabbing a rag and wrapping her hand. The white rag almost immediately soaked through with the crimson liquid. Rashida rushed to the bathroom and began washing the area as she tried to remove the glass embedded in her hand.

"Fuck. So much blood. Some little shit must have thought it would be funny! Shit!"

The water had started to turn dark in the sink. If it kept bleeding like this she might have to drive herself to the hospital. Soon enough, however, she had got the bleeding mostly under control and just had the hand wrapped in case it should bleed anymore. It was not the best way to begin the day.

[Illegal Planets]

---

Kapa Qol
Madrigal-Haut Laboratories, Lower Complex
Central Heights, Gotham City

---

Click.

The sound signified the start of the recording. The room was lit by halogen bulbs, dimmed substantially at the request of the entity seated across from the scientist before it. The pair sat at a long steel table in a white, rectangular room approximately twenty by twenty-five feet. A two way mirror lined one wall. Across from it was a large reinforced steel door, and a keypad to the left of it. The man, Dr. Gregory Baur, was bespectacled and wore a full-body biohazard suit. He spoke first.

"Please state your name for the recording."

The entity remained silent.

"Do you have a name?"

"Yes." It's voice was low, gravelly, electronic. Dr. Baur shifted in his seat, gazing out uncomfortably from the bulky suit's helmet. He cleared his throat and continued.

"State your name for the recording. Please."

It sat completely still, silent once again. Something about it made the Doctor nervous. How could something living be so still? Humans had their ticks and jerks, they were involuntary. It seemed unnatural.

"Right. Moving on. You claim to be from a planet which you call Ethyr. How did you get here?"

The entity looked towards the two-way mirror, seemingly to ignore the question. Many seconds passed before Dr. Baur began to repeat himself.

"This planet which you call Ethyr--"

"These questions... irritate me."

It looked at him then. Dr. Baur paled, but pressed on.

"Part of the bargain is that you agreed to an interview. I don't understand."

"Your kind does not understand... many things."

Dr. Baur leaned forward, genuinely curious. "Like what?"

It was silent for a few moments. Finally it spoke. "Man has yet to unlock the secret's of it's own solar system, or even master it's home planet. Many die from lack of sustenance, or disease. You kill one another."

"There is no murder on your planet? Or disease?"

"No."

"It sounds like an amazing place. Tell me more about it."

"What do you wish to know?"

"How many of there are you? How do you feed yourselves?"

"What you call electricity is what sustains our bodies."

"You mean... you eat electricity?"

"If that is the way you wish to understand it."

"How do you manage to feed the entire world?"

"I was responsible for designing the machines that collect the energy that occurs naturally in my planet's atmosphere."

Dr. Baur licked his lips, excited. "Like storms?"

"Yes."

"That's... amazing."

Overhead a voice emanated from a speaker attached to the ceiling. "That will be all for now, Doctor. Thank you."

Dr. Baur turned to look incredulously at the two-way mirror. "What the hell? I was just--"

"That will be all. Thank you."

Frustrated, the man stood and pressed the stop button on the recording machine. He took one last, curious look at the entity before striding to the door. It opened with a hiss and series of clicks before moving outwards and sliding sideways. He quickly exited the room and the door sealed shut again, prompting the same series of noises and ending with another hiss.

It watched him go, then turned it's gaze intently towards the large two-way along the wall.

[The Democratic Marxists]

Carrie Kelley/Robin
Carrie took a better look at the cave, now that she was stuck in there. It was massive. Truly enormous. Well, what else could she expect. If Bruce Wayne was the Batman, his secret hideout had to be opulent and — dare she say it — extra.

The heels of her boots clicked on the stone floor, echoing through the expansive cave. The shape of the structure looked really beautiful to Carrie. The place was quite crammed with tech (a bit too much for Carrie’s liking), but nevertheless the wide variety of gadgetry was nothing short of breathtaking.

It’s a shame I’ll have to leave all this behind for a prison cell. Then it crossed Carrie’s mind: why should she rot in some jail cell? She was probably more skilled than most of those donut-guzzling coppers. She could go on the run. Maybe join some underground vigilante team. Good people doing good things shouldn’t be stopped just because of the whims of a bad government, Carrie thought with conviction. Who knew? Maybe this entire behemoth involving Batman and Bruce Wayne and Bane could even convince the Dark Knight to return. And then she could meet him, and even become his official Robin!

Ok Carrie. That’s enough teenage daydreaming, get back to work! Carrie scolded herself. Hmmm...I gotta get outta here. But I can’t let those dirty cops get proof that Wayne is Bats..otherwise Gotham will never have its protector back.

Carrie strolled around the cave. If she was going to run and join a serious organization, she’d need an arsenal of tech and vehicles. Carrie’s prying eyes fell on a gargantuan monster truck — the same one Tim Drake stormed around Gotham City on a few days ago. There was a strong chain attached to the back of the truck; it was meant to lug stuff behind it.

Carrie swiped a small and silver phone-like device shaped as a Bat. A Batphone. It would be useful in her crimefighting endeavours, although Carrie admittedly had no clue how to use it or even get past the passcode of the damn gadget.

Carrie opened two large chests that she found in the cave, stuffing them with useful instruments, the exhaustive list of those instruments being: Batarangs, electromagnets, grenades, grapnels, gas pellets, tracking devices, an arm cannon, a collapsible sword, and last but not least, Bat shark repellent. Carrie found a small half-armored Robin costume in a glass case, complete with a glider cape and built-in comm device. She wasted no time in shedding her home made costume and donning the official suit, adding her signature green goggles to the look. The only thing she disliked about the costume was the lack of pants, the costume instead opting for a green underwear-like garment. Must be the first Robin suit, she figured. She topped it off by wearing a set of tight green gloves that contained finger tasers at the tips of the index digits.

She heaved the filled chests into the back of the monster truck, and tethered a small Batjet to the back with the attached chain.

Robin was ready to go. Not the most low-key way to travel, but certainly the best protected.

Carrie spotted a stack of TNT. If she didn’t want the police to get solid proof of Bruce Wayne being Batman, she needed to destroy the cave, as much sadness as that brought her. She left the immense stack of dynamite in the center of the cave, pulling out a match box and lighting the flame. She dashed to the exit door of the cave, where the truck she had stolen was awaiting her. She flung herself into the car, driving it out the door. Yeah, Carrie was fourteen, but if she was going to be a serious hero, she needed to know how to drive. She was still a bit wonky in her driving skills, but at the moment she was feeling more concerned about escaping the clutches of the ignited TNT.

Carrie raced out the cave in her new truck, the explosion ensuing behind her. As the cave crumbled, so did Wayne Manor’s base. The mansion started tilting backwards, since the very ground below it was demolished.

Carrie saw the barricade of GCPD cars ahead of her. With no time to think, Carrie pressed the red button in her truck that said “guns”, and repeatedly pressed the firing buttons, aiming the bullets at the wheels of the cars (although her aim wasn’t perfect — unbeknownst to Carrie, she had seriously injured 2 people).

Once she’d cleared the number of cars blocking her, Carrie turned in the driver’s seat to look at the wreckage she was leaving behind. That’s when she had a sickening feeling. There was a small pooch that had been pushed into the cave with her. She hadn’t seen him while packing up. Carrie seriously hoped that the dog had hopped into the back of the truck. Otherwise, Robin would officially be a gruesome mutt-murderer.

[Julutth]

Oliver Queen
Anarchy should never be accepted in our society...and it certainly shouldn’t be made the norm. Intentions aren’t important when people’s lives are in concern. Children are prohibited from undertaking jobs due to child labor laws; the regulations exist to prevent child abuse as much as they are there to ensure a mature, able person is working in the specific job. The fact is that there is no maturity level that can warrant a human being doing the job of Superman; they aren’t physically or mentally able to do that. Ordinary people who are devoid of powers should be prohibited from taking the law into their own hands. This is the common sense proposal, and I’m proud that after years of lobbying, Gotham City is the first urban administration to use its head instead of listening to hopeless Batman fanboys.

There. The final touches on Oliver’s new op-ed for the Gotham Tribune. He clicked the send button of the email to the editor.

Oliver leaned back on his sofa, gazing outside the massive glass windows of his mansion’s fifth floor. It was always gloomy in Gotham. That never helped to improve Oliver’s mood. Oliver heard the ringing of his antique telephone rested on top of his desk. It was either his wife, Dinah Lance, or his daughter, Dinah Queen. His daughter currently held the mantle of the Black Canary in Star City, despite Oliver’s pleading and anger at her vigilante escapades. She just wouldn’t listen to him.

His hand moved to pick up the phone when it started quivering uncontrollably. The doctor had told him that it was probably the pre-symptoms of Parkinson’s. Oliver was taking medication, but obviously that didn’t cure the condition. He found that chucking darts or shootin arrows usually helped to calm the tremors. Oliver’s obsession with archery and aim was still there in his old age; he’d installed a dart board in every one of his 20 rooms. He used his non-quivering hand to pick up a dart from the pencil stand on his desk, placing the dart in the affected hand and chucking it at the board. He missed the mark by 2 cm. That was the fourth time he’d missed since becoming Green Arrow. However, the aiming practice did help the quivering to cease.

“Excuse me, Olly,” Oliver’s young secretary Felicity Smoak said softly as she walked into his room, “you’ve got some men in suits waiting downstairs. Says it’s about a new deal between you and the Gotham government...they want to make an arms deal.” Oliver smiled as she said it. He was excited for law enforcement in Gotham to be beefed up.

“Tell them I’ll be down in a sec, honey.” Oliver grinned at Felicity as she walked down to inform the men.

[Fronket]

Officers Renee Montoya and Crispus Allen
“Montoya, Allen...what’s going on there?” Renee heard the gruff voice of Bullock through the walkie talkie. How she loathed that voice; practically everyone at GCPD hated him, except perhaps that goodie two shoes moron Sawyer. Renee forced herself to be polite.

“Commisioner, I’m entering location. An explosion has just occurred below the establishment. Several of our vehicles are critically damaged upon being hit by the fire of a truck escaping the building.”

“What? Are you going after it?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ve delegated a squadron to pursue the assailant —” she was rudely interrupted by Bullock.

“I don’t give a crap about what you have to say, give me Allen, he’s the senior officer.” Harvey spat. Renee pressed her lips together at the purely misogynistic comment.

“Sir, Crispus Allen is the junior officer, I’m two years his senior —”

“I don’t give a fuck! Give me Allen, Montoya!” Renee decided to let the matter go; Harvey Bullock was just too much of a character to deal with.

“Sir, Allen is assisting Detective Clifford into the car.” Crispus was pulling the inured Madison back to his vehicle.

“What happened to her?”

“Sprained ankle.”

“Where’s Maggie?” Renee was getting sick of Harvey’s rapid fire questions.

“She’s in the car, Bullock!” Renee yelled, completely exasperated.

“Don’t give me that attitude, bitch! Or I’ll fire your sorry ass. In fact, he your idiotic self back to HQ, you’re getting demoted! Did you get the arrested suspects into the van?” Renee ignored the threat; Harvey Bullock always threatened to demote detectives, and he never did.

“Sir, I’m getting the suspects right now.”

“WHAT? What have you been doing this whole time, you stupid little shit! They could have escaped by now for all you know! YOU’RE FIRED WHEN YOU GET BACK, YA HERE ME? FIRED.” Renee rolled her eyes. She was one of the MCU’s most respected detectives, Bullock wouldn’t possibly fire her.

She trudged into the collapsing Manor, gun in hand. She grabbed the old man by the neck, forcing him into the van for criminals. She also grabbed the Robin girl by her blonde hair, placing a hand on her back and forcing her into a different van than the butler. Renee sent the protesting arrested persons on their merry way: Stephanie Brown to Blackgate Penitentiary to await trial for potential vigilantism, and Alfred Pennyworth to the GCPD for questioning on Batman’s identity.

Ugh. Being a police detective is the worst job in the superhero era.

[Haedros 92712]

Bane took the bait. He was still somewhat disoriented from the grenades, he turned and marched towards Batgirl, and tripped the wire. The columns fell onto him, seemingly crushing him. The rubble did not shift further. It seemed as if victory had been achieved. And then, the rubble burst upwards, away from a spot in the middle of the room. He was alive, seemingly completely unharmed. The left side of his mask was covered in damage, and nearly obliterated, revealing much of the face. His skin was covered it went like scars and veins, glowing green like the pipes in his back. His eye, in full view now, was pure black, with red veins glowing and pulsing within the monstrous organ. “Hmm... you are clever, but hasty. You took little time to analyze my weakness before making a risky move, one that has ultimately cost you.” At this, he cracked his knuckles, and pressed a button on his gauntlet. The pressure of the chemical flow in his back increased, and his eye began pulsing more rapidly. His muscles bulged and tensed, and he let out a bone chilling howl. “Now, I will break you.”

Batgirl

As the massive blocks of broken marble piled atop her foe and the dust hung in the air, hope rose within Babs. But still she had to prepare just in case. And her fears proved justified as the juggernaut erupted through the rubble. Despite her steely resolve, the crimefighter gasped at the hideous appearance of the muscle-bound villain. The uncovered part of his face was an ooze of bulging veins and mottled skin. The one eye peering at her through the shattered mask a thing of pure evil.

Still, Babs would not be cowered. Even when he activated his control pad, injecting even more steroids into his veins, bulking him up to an incredible mass, she stood her ground. In typical supervillain fashion, he started gloating. “Yeah, I get it,” she shot back. “You’re big, mean AND ugly. And as far as weaknesses, I did have time to learn at least one.” She grinned. “You don’t look up.” She pointed a finger at the ceiling. At the giant chandelier hanging over Bane’s head. Surrounded by a ring of blinking batarangs. She threw a razor-bat, neatly slicing through the chandelier chain and the massive 128-light crystal fixture fell. "The only thing you're breaking, buddy, is the furniture."

She flicked the cap on the pen-size detonator she had in her hand and clicked the tiny red button. The ring of explosive batarangs detonated. Fighting on your home field had its advantages. Like…knowing what was above the chandelier.


There was a tremendous cracking of wood and plaster and then the grand piano from the second floor music room came crashing through the hole in the ceiling. Let’s see you shake THAT off. A grim expression on her face, Batgirl calmly reached for her grapnel, removed the hook and locked on a special attachment. Just in case…

Bane rose again, even after the piano fell upon him. Blood trickled from a small cut on top of his head. He said nothing as he continued forward. And then he stopped moving, he reached down, and grabbed a massive chunk of glass, and hurled it at an insane speed. Just as it was about to hit Batgirl, the crystalline projectile exploded into several, small shards all far less deadly than they would have been whole. “Hey, asshat!” It was then that Whitesnake swung in through the hole in the ceiling and landed next to Batgirl, hitting the ground and rolling up beside her before popping up, and pointing his rifle at the giant man. “With all the ruckus you’re making, it’s difficult to get any sleep. Jackass!” He fired off a bullet or two at Bane, who simply stood and glared. “Now, I have two I must break.” Bane continued his advance.

[Illegal Planets]

---

Dominic Madrigal
Madrigal-Haut Laboratories, Lower Complex
Central Heights, Downtown Gotham

---

"That will be all. Thank you." Dominic nodded to the woman, clad in a stark white labcoat, standing beside him and watched as the other doctor made for the door. Two armed men, clad in black combat attire with no insignia or logo, stood nearby, faces expressionless. She released the mechanism controlling the door's many locks and it slid open. Dr. Baur came out and began removing his helmet.

"Well, shit, Bethany! I was just getting him to talk, why the hell--" He stopped as his helmet came off. "Oh. Mr. Madrigal. How are you, sir?" Dr. Bethany Cooke covered her mouth to hide a smirk.

Dominic smiled warmly. His suit was a simple two-piece, black with tonal stripes. "I'm fine, Doctor. That was good work you did in there."

"Thank you, sir." He did sound grateful. The trio turned to watch the creature within the containment cell. It was still staring at the window.

"Do you think it can see us?" The question came nervously from Dr. Cooke.

Dominic studied the thing's mask. "Maybe." It was dim inside the room, which only added to the eeriness of it all. It cocked it's head and continued to stare. Dominic felt a shiver go down his spine. It had mentioned something at the end about being responsible for some kind of great machine which it used to feed the entire population of it's planet. He had Dr. Cooke cut the interview short then. Whatever secrets this entity had to share, Dominic decided they were best kept between he and it.

Oh, the possibilities...

"You may go now, Doctors. Thank you both."

The pair looked at him curiously, then at each other. Dr. Baur said tentatively, "You aren't... thinking of going in there alone, sir? We don't even know what that thing is capable of."

"Dr. Baur, you are dismissed."

Dr. Baur raised his eyebrows and Dr. Cooke put a hand on his shoulder. The pair left together silently, walking down the corridor. Dominic watched them for a moment then turned to look at his security. He jerked his head in their direction. They nodded and followed after the two doctors. He looked down at his shoes and sighed. Dr. Baur and Dr. Cooke did good work for him. It was a shame that things had to play out this way, but he couldn't afford to have them leak any information regarding the subject. He would have the recording destroyed as well. Down the hall, he heard Dr. Baur shout. Then gunfire. Dr. Cooke screamed, but it was cut short by more gunfire. It made him flinch. He looked up and returned his gaze to the entity on the other side of the glass.

It was still watching him.

---

Kapa Qol
Madrigal-Haut Laboratories, Lower Complex
Central Heights, Downtown Gotham

---

He could see them. Kapa couldn't hear what they were saying, and this bothered him slightly, but he could see their bodies pulsing with energy behind the mirror. The old one, the one who called himself Dominic, had found him. Kapa didn't know how, and he wondered briefly if the old man knew how close he had come to death by seeking him out. The only thing that saved him had been his promises. That was why Kapa had allowed himself to be taken.

He could leave if he wished. The complex was staffed with a strong security force, but the entire facility was brimming with electricity. Between this fact, and Kapa's suit, he could escape if they broke their promises and tried to keep him against his will. Dominic had offered him access to a laboratory of his own, something which he desperately needed if he was going to do more than survive in this wretched city. In return? Kapa would lend the human his unique talents.

A mutually beneficial arrangement. One that gave Kapa something which came close to emotion. He was excited. Even if the tools the humans used were crude when compared to those he had left behind, he could improvise, and Dominic had promised him access to anything he needed for his work. As long as the old man kept his promises, the arrangement would work out well for the both of them.

If not...

[Lic]

The Huntress
Helena creeped through the Wayne Woods behind the Manor, scuffling over to the back of the mansion. Police cars were starting to depart, although a few remained to guard the area. Helena silently clambered up the side of the mansion until she found a room with an open window. She sincerely hoped that she wasn’t too late. Helena had heard about Tim getting exposed, and had rushed to Gotham all the way from Star City where she was visiting her friend Dinah. Helena was here to rescue Tim.

Thankfully, she wasn’t too late. Helena found Tim out cold on the floor of the room, blood seeping into the floorboards. Helena forcefully maintained a placid expression, although her heart was thumping inside. She didn’t want her worried side to come out. Helena leaned down to feel Tim’s pulse. It was beating, but slowly. He’d clearly taken quite the beating the past few days. Helena lifted the boy up, and slung him over her shoulder. The skinny boy was surprisingly heavy; must have been all the muscle. Helena was descending the marble stairs while carrying Tim when she heard the ruckus downstairs. She trudged by the living room to find Batgirl and some unknown dude fighting someone who must have been Bane; Helena debated whether to join the fight or continue with Tim. She realized that Babs probably would need all the help she could get. Helena left Tim on a chair and ran into the living room, shooting an arrow from her crossbow at Bane’s lower back.

She gave a nod of acknowledgment to the other heroes. “Batgirl. Optimus Prime. It’s a pleasure to join you.” Helena was trying her best to remain calm right now; she had to keep the mood light to keep herself from having a schizophrenic outburst.

She ran to the other vigilantes’ side, turning to face their muscle man adversary.

[Main Nation Ministry]

Joseph Coyne

A streak of sunlight was beaming through the window blinds, as Coyne was awaken by the sound of his electronic alarm clock. He felt like he was exhausted briefly, but he didn't know from what. As pieces started to merge together, as he sat himself up on his bed. Another day, another dollar. No, scratch that. Another nickel. Actually, scratch that again. Another penny. Coyne in his briefs walked to his kitchen to attempt to eat a "complete breakfast" which all of those cereal commercials try to tell you to do, but you already be late for work that made it completely meaningless.

A cereal bowl, a flat muffin, and drinks of OJ and Milk was Coyne's breakfast, as he ate in front of the TV. Rather than watching the typical Gotham news where he noticed the same video store he robbed, he switched the channel to an old-fashioned samurai movie with a crappy English dub. He might as well open up the Penny Arcade to get some customers. Unlocking the door and raising the security gate from it's hinges, Coyne had the store open for customers to examine the antique wonders inside. Or rather play the recent arcade machines he gotten. Heading back upstairs, Coyne went to switch off the TV, but managed to end up switching the channel to Gotham News. He saw that video store on the screen again. This time, there were some young adults who looked like typical parents. This time he noticed flowers in front of the place. "A memorial. They just got in the damn way." Coyne thought, as he switched off the TV.

A young kid who seemed like he was skipping school entered the arcade, browsing a bit before having his attention on a steeplechase looking machine. "Looks interesting to you? It's a marathon running betting game. You just place your penny on the slot below each runner, then the game starts. If you win, you some extra pennies." Coyne was doing a salesman pitch to the boy, as his attention shifted toward a machine titled, "The Marathon Cycle Race". "Oh that? You just put the penny in and you use the crank to spin the wheel. Go ahead, you probably have some pennies in your pockets, like unwanted trading cards."

[United States of Brainy]

Lydia Sorenson
The Pawn Shop

As Monday mornings went, Lydia considered this one fucking fantastic. A weekend filled with sex and death always put her in a good mood. Even Hush spouting Aristotle during their make-out session hadn’t been able to wreck it. And that little problem had been easily fixed once she had stuffed a gag in his mouth.

But she hadn’t been prepared for the reaction to Hizzoner’s death, the fact that now you couldn’t walk down a street corner without passing a National Guard checkpoint. It had her on edge somewhat, had put the slightest damper on her euphoria. Best to hunker down until all of this blew over. She figured she make one last supply run before holing up in her house for like a month or so.

Her BMW minivan pulled up in front of the pawn shop for the second morning in a row. Despite her aggravating experience from the other day, the store did have some one-of-a-kind items she couldn’t find anywhere else. And if she was going to be out of circulation for a whole entire mouth, she wanted to make sure she hadn’t missed any of the hidden treasures that this out-of-the-way store had to offer.

And yeah…she wanted to see if that lazy bitch had found her parting gift. For a sec, Lydia was worried that the little troll wouldn’t show for a second day in a row but no, there was her POS Toyota or whatever the hell she drove parked in the alley next to the shop. Yeah, the security gate had been pulled back. Open for business. Hehe, this was going to be good.

She parked and walked inside. The woman stood in her normal spot behind the counter and yes, Lydia could see that one of her hands had been bandaged. Not just bandaged but seeping blood. Lydia only half-attempted to try and hide the evil grin that crept across her face.

Was that a STAR Labs XDM-57? Why, yes it was. Tormenting the woman could wait. Lydia, in her white blouse and riding breeches and trenchcoat, knelt down and examined the exotic piece of hi-tech gear. The casing was scorched, an ordinary jane would think it some crap gizmo but Lydia knew better. Expertly, she stripped the device to its component parts and examined the inner workings. One of the power compensators was fried but she had a spare at home so that was no biggie. Putting the thing back together, she looked around some more. Found a couple of precision laser torches, also from STAR Labs.

“I’ll take the torches and THAT,” she told L.B., jabbing a finger at the XDM, not expecting the empty-headed twit to know what it was. Reaching into her Chanel backpack, she pulled out a bulging envelope, stuffed with one hundred dollar bills, four inches thick. Held it in her gloved hand. “It has a bad power compensator so I’m not paying full price for it,” she stated flat-out. She started pulling out bills but stopped short. “You know...” she began, “I waited two-fucking-hours for you to open yesterday! TWO HOURS! Like an idiot! I don’t care about your fucking personal problems, what I DO care about is that you open your fucking store on time so that your fucking customers aren’t standing outside like fucking idiots!”

Normally, she would have left it at that but she couldn’t help herself. “What happened to your hand? Did you cut yourself? Looks really bad.” She gave the girl a phony look of concern. “Looks like glass. Was it glass?” she asked in an overly sweet, mocking tone of voice. She was enjoying this…immensely. But then, she happened to be glancing down at the display case and that’s when she saw it. No, it can’t be… Fumbling her sunglasses (also designer, also Chanel) off, her brown eyes grew big and wide like a kid on Christmas morning. She stared at the bright comic book cover, depicting a bodysuited superheroine KO-ing some mad scientist-type, completely enraptured. Then reluctantly, pulling herself away from her happy moment, she put her glasses on again. Looked back at the woman, whatever warmth that had been on her face gone. “Let me see that,” she stated coldly though darkened lens, pressing her finger against the case, pointing at the copy of Miss Midnight #42 lying within.