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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:36:43 GMT -5
The Multiverse Presents
Truth & Justice II #8
Written by JC Roberts (Calamityjamie)
Edited by Daniel Dyer (Spider-Man Beyond)
Multiverse logo created by Tony Peterson (Starfall)
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:40:00 GMT -5
Josh felt foolish for checking his answering machine again, but it was possible that Martha had called when he had been in the bathroom. The digital read-out remained green and unblinking and the big neon zero – the number of calls he had missed – triggered a sense of frustration and worry. Gotham was on high alert – as was Metropolis – and he hadn’t heard from his girlfriend since the Mayor announced that the Joker had resurfaced and was working with Brainiac. He had left a message on Martha’s machine and also one on her cell phone voice mail, but he knew if she was somewhere with the Justice League that she would not be able to answer. Josh was not sure if he wanted her to be with the League just now – although the alternative location in which she might possibly be safe – Arkham Asylum, ironically enough – was in lockdown and no one would give him information on her whereabouts. He had a call into Devon Persky, who tended to be overly solicitous toward people who might vote to fund his institution. Maybe he’d have some news. Having a girlfriend who worked with superheroes and maniacs was sort of cool – unless you were cursed with even the tiniest bit of imagination and you actually cared for the girl. Then it wasn’t so great. Josh drew a breath in hard through his nose – he was getting a bit congested – and walked over to his living room window, which looked out into the street just above the entrance to his apartment building. Martha had been forced to pull an all-nighter after her relief failed to show up late on Christmas night. That had been two days ago and the last time Josh had spoken to her. She had seemed a little preoccupied during their brief midnight telephone conversation. Josh wondered if her distraction was related to the unspoken tension between them caused by Martha’s casual mention earlier in the day that she was going to go to “some country club charity thing” with Bruce Wayne for a few hours “so he can get out of there without pissing anyone off. “We can still go to a late movie,” she had added. “I should be back by 8:30.” Maybe it shouldn’t have bothered Josh, but what Martha described as a favor for a friend sounded a lot like a date to him, albeit a short one. It seemed to him Martha’s friendship with the billionaire’s butler had somehow turned into a relationship of some kind with Wayne himself. Josh had met Wayne on more than one occasion; he seemed socially compassionate enough for a rich guy and was always willing to whip out his wallet for a good cause. But he also seemed a little too charming, and despite the fact that he hadn’t been seen with a woman on his arm for more than a decade, Josh was not sure he trusted him with his girlfriend. He did, on the other hand, trust Martha. He told her so during their late-night telephone conversation on Christmas night. “I won’t go, if you don’t want me to,” Martha had responded. There was an odd flatness to her voice. “He’s just a friend of my father’s. I was doing him a favor, but if it bothers you –” “No, go,” Josh had heard himself say. “We’ll go out when you get back.” No one was on the street – there was a temporary curfew in place, but Martha never seemed to let these sorts of restrictions bother her. Josh would have welcomed a little rule-breaking if it meant watching her walk into his lobby. He coughed a few times and frowned. He didn’t feel like he had a cold and he was rarely plagued by allergies in the winter unless he was forced to visit a home with cats. He let out another cough and suddenly found it difficult to suck down a lungful of air. Josh finally managed to inhale, but the attempt caused a small, but noticeable pinch of pain. He rarely carried an asthma inhaler in the winter, but his need for one caused an incongruous smile. He walked into his bedroom and opened a small gift box he’d left on the dresser. The hand-painted inhaler Martha had presented him several days before was a timelier gift than he’d originally suspected. Josh palmed the small, colorful sleeve and pulled open his night table drawer, where he withdrew an albuterol cartridge. He dropped the cartridge into the inhaler and lifted it to his mouth. Josh opened his mouth wide so that all of the gas-propelled steroid power would make it into his lungs. He took a practice inhale, coughed a few times – which caused him to drop his hand – then raised the inhaler back to his lips. As he started to depress the cartridge, a black-gloved hand grabbed his wrist. As Josh stood saucer-eyed with mute astonishment, Batman wrenched the inhaler out of his hand and tossed it into what looked like a heavy zip-lock bag. Without a word to the councilman, who was still speechless, the Dark Knight pulled a piece of litmus paper from one of the compartments in his belt and dropped that into the bag, too. He then produced some kind of device that heat-sealed the receptacle and depressed the inhaler through the plastic. Even in his stunned state, Josh could tell something about the discharge was wrong – what should have been white powder was a pure yellow-green gas. The litmus paper turned black. “Smilex gas,” said Batman grimly. Josh gasped. “The Joker wants to kill me? Why?” Batman looked at him. “Could be he’s after everyone on the council. You did back the Mayor’s decision to put Gotham on high alert.” His eyes hardened. “Or it could be your association with someone affiliated with the Justice League.” Josh made the connection right away. “Is he after Martha, too?” he asked urgently. “Is she all right?” Batman gave a brief nod. “She’s definitely safe?” Josh persisted. “We take care of our doctor,” Batman said stonily. He raised his left wrist to his mouth and said, “Reardon.” A few moments later, he spoke again. “Our dream team just tried to kill Councilman Greenberg.” Josh guessed Batman was wearing an earpiece under his cowl. He appeared to be listening intently. “OK,” he said finally. “Better gather up the rest of the council and put them under guard with the Mayor.” He paused to listen to Reardon’s response, then said, “I know he won’t. But maybe this’ll help him bond with a few of his political opponents.” He disconnected and looked back at Josh. “I’m taking you somewhere safe.” Josh felt grateful to Batman and also intimidated by him, but he could not stop himself from asking, “Can I talk to Martha?” “Councilman Greenberg,” said Batman through his teeth, “the Joker and Brainiac murdered two dozen college students on Christmas night. Yesterday, another civilian barely escaped an attempt on his life and now they’ve tried to kill you. I don’t have time to be a go-between for you and your girlfriend.” “OK. I’m sorry,” said Josh quickly. “Get your toothbrush and whatever else you need,” said Batman. “We’ll order you a fresh inhaler – although you probably won’t need it.” Josh looked at him questioningly. “I have no doubt your apartment was pumped full of allergens before you came home this evening,” Batman explained. “Someone wanted you to use that inhaler.” Paling slightly, Josh nodded and headed toward his bathroom. Then he stopped. “You know Bruce Wayne?” he asked reluctantly. “Yes,” said Batman. “You might want to check on him and his butler,” Josh said. “Martha’s pretty close to both of them.” Batman’s dark blue eyes burned into Josh’s hazel ones. His nod was barely perceptible. “I’ll get my things,” Josh said uneasily. For the third time, Batman nodded. —
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:41:06 GMT -5
The wall behind the fireplace where Alfred had been dusting concealed an entrance to the cave; it was blast-proof behind a thin layer of cut stone. But the ceiling above it had collapsed where he had been standing. Even if he had survived the explosion and the Smilex – two impossibilities – he would have been buried in a two-foot pile of drywall, wood beams and shattered brick. Although the Smilex had dissipated over the day and a half since Martha had flown Alfred through the plate-glass window, Batman made sure the seal between his face and the gas mask was tight. The scene made him sick. He had not warned Alfred before taking off with Superman to alert the League of Brainiac’s return. Clark’s unexpected presence in his cave at that particular time had thrown him. It had been more than a decade since Brainiac had deduced his identity – along with Superman’s – and Batman had temporarily forgotten about it. The Coluan criminal’s alliance with the Joker seemed so bizarre that Bruce hadn’t taken the time to consider all of its consequences. If Martha – as burned and battered as she was – hadn’t put two-and-two together quickly, Alfred would be dead now, through Bruce’s carelessness. He kicked at a chunk of cinderblock and tried to push away the image of the elderly butler bleeding beneath it. Not that he was the only one who had neglected to alert possible victims: Batman’s disruption of Greenberg’s near-fatal asthma treatment had been as propitious as Martha’s rescue of Alfred. Martha was too busy planning to kill the Joker to consider that her lover might be in danger. Batman allowed himself a second to wonder what that meant about the strength of her feelings for the councilman, then forced the thought away. Most likely she had just assumed the malevolent twosome would only go after family members. It did not matter anyway. Things were no longer right between them. Some of the things she had said at their last meeting – as true as some of her statements had been – had cut deeper than Sean Fray’s bladed whip. And if Martha actually did murder the Joker... Batman was not sure why he found the idea unforgivable, but somehow he did. —
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:44:22 GMT -5
Proclamations of intended vengeance from Midori, their mildest member, and Martha, their most kindhearted one, had blindsided their teammates, although everyone took Midori seriously right away and only Superman, Meera and Batman seemed to understand that Martha meant her threat literally. “He’s horrible, Martha,” Meera had said urgently. “But it’s our job to stop him, not to punish him.” “I don’t want to punish him,” Martha had snapped, and all eyes shifted from Midori to her. “I want to stop him from killing my family. You think Emma’s going to want to stay on the Watchtower forever?” She added, “I’m surprised our secret identities aren’t being flashed over a neon ticker-tape in Times Square right now. Maybe they are.” Batman had shaken his head. “He wouldn’t do that unless he was desperate. Too many civilians would come to our aid. They’d want to protect our families. It would make it harder to kill them.” “Or people would abandon them, because they don’t want to get killed in the crossfire,” said Martha bitterly. She did not look at him. As it had become obvious to the others that Martha was serious, Batman saw with dismay that her threat to execute the Joker had been met with indifference bordering on approval. “The guy’s killed a lot of people,” Arsenal had said calmly. “And Brainiac –” he gave a tight-lipped Midori a nod – “He’s certainly no better. But killing’s against our charter. Do it other than in extreme self-defense and you’re out of the League.” “And on trial for murder,” Meera added to Martha, who seemed unmoved by Roy’s pronouncement. Midori had paled to the color of mint ice cream. Gren had pushed himself out of his chair and walked around table to stand behind Martha. “C’mon, what grand jury is going to indict anyone over the Joker? They’ll probably throw a parade.” He looked at Roy. “And you know Brainiac’s classified as a Level One Enemy Combatant. Killing him is permissible.” “Not here,” said Roy in the same untroubled voice. The Flash gave his best friend a calculating look and said, “We’ve got to fix this, though. Martha’s right – our families can’t stay in hiding forever – and they can’t run for cover every time the Joker or old Lime Face get themselves free.” “ Lime Face?” asked Midori angrily. Wally paled. “I didn’t mean –” Superman’s voice cut across the room. “We don’t kill.” He was looking directly at Martha. “We’ll find a way to protect our families.” Martha looked steadily into her father’s eyes and said, “You’d better come up with something quick. “We’re so sanctimonious about not killing,” she added. “We’re the good guys; we don’t kill. Even if it means ten thousand people will die because we turned someone like the Joker over to a justice system that’s failed for thirty years to hold him.” Batman said firmly, “I’ll make certain when we catch him, he’s permanently contained.” “Right,” said Martha. “Because that’s worked so well before.” The room went silent. “I’m not blaming you,” Martha said hurriedly. “You get him every time. It’s when you turn him over that the whole thing falls apart. “They wouldn’t let you keep him in that coma,” she added. “And they won’t let you next time, either. It’s ‘cruel and unusual’ punishment. Never mind that he’s a cruel and unusual guy.” Her attempt to backpedal had not done much good. Batman would not look at her and everyone else was afraid to look at him. Superman stood up. “We’re wasting time.” He glared at his daughter. “You want to save lives, we’ve got to stop debating and start searching. The sooner we find these monsters, the better.” Martha slipped the projector onto a belt loop and flicked it on. Superwoman’s holographic face was always impassive. —
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:45:09 GMT -5
Roy rapped his knuckles against the metallic frame of the open laboratory door. Midori did not turn from the weapon she was working on. He took a couple of steps into the lab. “Can we talk?” he asked. Midori continued to concentrate on her work. “Is it about one of the defensive systems I’m preparing for our battle? Or the weapons?” “No,” said Roy, moving closer. Midori took a deep, ragged breath. “Then I’d rather not talk.” Somewhat wounded, Roy started to leave the lab. Then he stopped, studied Midori’s stress-contorted face and walked over to wrap his arms around her from behind. She tried to ignore him and tinker on the weapon, but there was a slight tremor in her hands. “You’re scary,” he murmured. “Sorry,” she said. A large tear splashed from her cheek onto Roy’s forearm and he held her tighter. “I can handle scary,” he whispered. —
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:46:55 GMT -5
Harvey was hungry by the time the guards started to make their dinner rounds. There wasn't a whole lot for an inmate to do other than eat. The food was garbage, but still Harvey looked forward to mealtime. Usually, he knew in advance what was on the menu, but none of the guards had much interest in gossip since the asylum went on lockdown. This probably meant the food would suck more than it ordinarily did. During times like these, the kitchen usually resorted to what was charitably dubbed "space food". Two heavily-preserved, vacuum packed turkey sausages, a fruit bar, a bag of chips and a small container of apple juice. The sausage packaging was nearly impossible to open -- Harvey had cut a gum last time trying to rip through the plastic with his teeth. When he heard something jam against the meal slot in his door a few minutes early, Harvey looked toward the little window with mild anticipation. A round, flat pink balloon skidded almost into the middle of his cell. It was a whoopee cushion. Harvey's breath caught in his chest. "Harvey," said the Joker's disembodied voice, as Harvey stumbled backward against his bunk. "I'm disappointed. I thought it was bros before hoes." Harvey stared at the gag toy with horror. He looked hopelessly toward the door of his cell. "Not that Dr. Kent is actually a prostitute," the Joker's voice added, as gas from the rosy rubber bladder began to fill the tiny room. "That would elevate her to a stature an Arkham psychiatrist could never possibly attain. "Goodbye, Harvey." Harvey held his breath and hammered at his cell door. Please, he thought, feeling the bone in one pinky snap from the force of his pounding. Not like this.—
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:48:43 GMT -5
In the day and a half since Martha had deposited Alfred in her father’s fortress, the nonagenarian butler had made it his own. Despite protests from Lois that he was not there to serve them – and the undeniable reality that the automated sanctuary was self-maintaining, Alfred was determined to create a refuge experience for Lois and Clay tantamount to a holiday in a five-star hotel. While the kitchen was stocked with more durable food items, Alfred was distressed to find it lacking even a single bag of tea. The Kents were largely coffee drinkers, but no one had the heart to tell him this when he topped his list of desired groceries with several boxes of Stash and Twinings. Alfred had become close to an expert in vegetarian cooking in the year and a half since he’d met Martha, although he had not had nearly as many chances as he would have liked to have tried some of the dishes he’d found on the internet and clipped from cooking magazines. He now looked forward to the opportunity to stretch his culinary wings. “Let him,” Batman had said when Lois expressed concern that her guest was pressing himself into service. “You aren’t going to be able to stop him.” While Alfred’s awareness of Superman’s secret identity provided some degree of ease, complete conversational candor was impossible. Lois had known about Batman for years but Clay did not understand why they now had a butler. “He’s a really good friend of mine,” Martha had explained. “I just want him safe.” As there was a significant amount of powdered drywall and other debris in Alfred’s hair and clothes as well as in Martha’s, Clay suspected there was more to this story, but a look from his mother shut him up. Clay’s curiosity about Alfred had quickly faded as Lois’ primary preoccupation. Clark had returned to the fortress at something like three in the morning that first night, distraught that their daughter seemed on course to become a killer. “Our pacifist Buddhist daughter,” Lois repeated. “The one who ferries bugs out of the house so Clay and I won’t squish them?” “That one,” Clark said grimly. “The one who doesn’t believe in the death penalty?” “Yep.” “And you really think she means this?” Lois asked. “She doesn’t seem to think there’s any other way to keep you and Clay safe,” Clark said. He leaned back against the headboard of the Kryptonian-style bed in which his wife had been sleeping. “And I’m not sure I do, either.” “You’ll find a way,” Lois said. “Without letting Martha become a murderer. Not that I would mourn the Joker,” she added. “No one would mourn the Joker,” said Superman. He stared into the darkness. Clark’s body language made it clear that he couldn’t stay, but Lois allowed herself to snuggle up against his bicep for a few luxurious moments. “How safe are we here from Brainiac?” “Good question,” her husband replied. “He knew about the fortress in the Arctic. And he’s had twenty years to upgrade his tracing technology. But there’s also probably no more heavily defended place on Earth. And if it gets really bad, you know what to do.” Lois nodded. “Don’t worry about us.” Clark gently extricated himself from her arms and rose from the bed. “With you in charge, boss,” he said with a smile, “I never do.” —
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:49:50 GMT -5
Lois had not expected to see her husband again until Brainiac and the Joker had been apprehended, but he appeared a little over a day later, carrying Batman in his flying harness. Martha had arrived a few moments earlier and was still standing with her mother near the entrance to the Fortress. Superman dropped Batman a few feet from Martha and drew his wife into a corner several yards away. “The Joker tried to kill Josh,” he said without preamble. Lois looked past him. Batman was apparently breaking the same news to Martha. As Clark quietly told his wife about the sabotaged inhaler, Lois watched her daughter’s eyes widen, then overflow with tears. In what seemed like an uncommon expression of compassion for Batman, he reached for her shoulder, but Martha flung a hand up between them in a gesture that screamed, “Don’t touch me!” Still watching her, he stepped back and Martha pressed the hand over her eyes. Batman, his own features unsettled and concerned, tried to peer between the fingers she had covering her face. He spoke again, but she turned away and strode hastily out of the room. “What was that about?” Lois asked, almost to herself. Her eyes were fixed on Batman. He was staring after her daughter. ”He just told her about Josh,” said Superman, as if it were obvious. Lois continued to scrutinize Batman. "Something about that conversation,” she said slowly. “Had nothing to do with Josh." —
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:51:26 GMT -5
Guilt and fear trailed Martha as she wandered through the depths of her father’s fortress. Josh had nearly died a horrifying death because it had not occurred to her that he might be on Joker’s hit list. She had thought about her family. She had thought about Alfred. But Josh had not crossed her mind since their telephone call on Christmas night. What kind of girlfriend was she? What kind of person was she? She now saw no way out of killing the Joker. She had hoped for days that someone would come up with a better idea, but Martha knew it was now time to put a plan together. She had no desire to put her hands on the madman unless absolutely necessary; that ruled out neck-breaking and high-impact punches to the head. She rested by one of her father’s trophy rooms and examined a sword belonging to someone called Mongol I. The vision of running a blade through a living body brought instant nausea. Martha moved on to the following room. The only thing she could think of was a gun, and there was always the chance her bullet could go astray, or on through the Joker to hit someone else. It was true that her father could probably beat a bullet headed for the wrong target, but for that matter, he could block one meant for the Joker. She couldn’t let that happen. She thought of Josh lifting the colorful inhaler to his mouth and imagined him seconds later, collapsing on the floor, a hideous grin yanking up the corners of his mouth as he laughed and wheezed himself to death. Tears again spilled from Martha’s eyes. She wiped them with a soft cloth she found covering a slab of crystal in the next room. As she replaced the cloth, she noticed that most of the things in this room were not trophies. Her dad had done some rearranging since the last time she had been here. As soon as she realized what the room was, Martha knew what to look for. The object she had in mind wasn’t exactly hidden. Superman had good reason to believe nobody would be able to breach his impenetrable security systems, let alone steal his weapons. Martha wrapped the object in the same white cloth she’d used to dry her tears and tucked it under her arm. She was headed toward Justice League headquarters before anyone in the fortress realized she was gone. The window to Midori’s lab was open. Martha landed with a soft thud in front of the table where her teammate stood working. Midori looked up when she saw her and pushed the protective goggles she wore onto her forehead. Martha gently set the bundle onto the lab table. “Let’s make a deal,” she said. —
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:52:10 GMT -5
At four minutes after eleven o’clock the next morning, Batman was alone in his cave, slumped at a dormant computer monitor for what was possibly the only ten minutes of rest he’d had in two days. His head was cupped in his left hand, which meant he only had to roll his head slightly when the slight buzz against his wrist told him he had an emergency phone call. “Yes, Commissioner,” he said, without opening his eyes. —
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:53:51 GMT -5
Moments later, Meera’s voice shot through her teammates’ heads. >> We just heard from Batman. Brainiac and the Joker are holding four hundred hostages at the Sagan Science Center in downtown Gotham.<< And then, to their surprise, her voice was replaced by Roy’s. >> I want everyone except Batman back at headquarters now,<< he said through a conduit Meera had recently learned to create. >> You are not to go directly to the museum. Do not pass Go without collecting your $200 dollars worth of goodies from my girlfriend's lab.<< —
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:56:59 GMT -5
A choir of crying children met Batman as he edged around a marble pillar in the grand foyer of the museum. He couldn’t think of a place that suited their enemies’ individual appetites better than the Sagan Science Center. Most of the hostages on any given day were bound to be youngsters – something he was sure delighted the Joker. And Brainiac was certain to make use of the bountiful technology for which the nation’s largest science museum was famous. Joker stood on the second floor balcony of the three-story atrium, cackling as he dangled a small girl over the thick steel safety railing. Brainiac stood over him, floating on some kind of hover disk. An unconscious scientist dangled loosely in his powerful fingers. Brainiac was holding him by the hair. “Don’t worry, boys and girls,” sang out the Joker. “It’s true that our regularly scheduled program has been pre-empted. But we do have a very special show for you today.” Batman felt something press into his hand and he saw that Superwoman was standing next to him, also pressed against the pillar. “Put it on,” she whispered and he saw that she had handed him one of Midori’s force fields. He grabbed her wrist. “Please don’t—” he did not bother to hide behind his usual stoic mask. She pulled her hand away and even through the hologram, he could tell that her eyes were cold. She wasn’t just being defensive about her intentions toward the Joker; he had known since the words slipped from his mouth that she was wounded by what he had said to Persky. Bruce’s friendship with Martha had nothing to do with Clark and he could tell that she was hurt by the way he had characterized it. “Listen for Meera,” she said, focused on the dangling child. “We need to clear out these hostages.” Batman’s eyes left her for only the second it took to snap on the force field, but when he looked up, he was alone again. >> Everyone’s here.<< He could not see Superwoman any longer or Superman or the Green Lantern, but Midori and the Harpers were moving cautiously through separate second-floor entrances and the Flash was edging toward a group of hostages Joker’s henchmen had rounded up on the first floor. They were grouped around a large stone statue of Carl Sagan profiled against a black sea of stars. >> Night vision.<< Arsenal’s voice had again replaced Meera’s. His bow was drawn; Quiver, on the other side of the balcony, had joined her father in taking aim at the huge glass ceiling. Both of them were wearing goggles. Batman shook his head and the infrared lenses fell into place. Quiver and Arsenal released their arrows simultaneously and the entire panel of windows was coated in a sticky black substance, just as Midori used a handheld device to shut down the building’s lights. It wasn’t pitch black, but it was nearly so and the screams Batman heard no longer belonged to just the hostages. Joker’s henchmen had panicked when the lights went out; some of them were fleeing, but enough of them were shooting blindly to make evacuating the hostages a more treacherous operation that it needed to be. Joker’s immediate instinct was to drop the child he was holding. She plunged shrieking toward the marble floor fifty feet below. Batman dove forward, skidding across the smooth stone surface before catching her like a football a few inches before she hit the ground. He’d managed to dislocate his shoulder in the process despite the force field. He twisted slightly and without letting go of the girl, he slammed his upper arm hard against the floor, reuniting the torn joint enough for it to function. Above him he heard three simultaneous crashes as Superman, the Green Lantern and Superwoman smashed through the glass ceiling. Light poured back into the building. Batman saw that most of the hostages that had not been evacuated by the Flash had been scooped up in an enormous green claw – something like the ones he’d seen in arcade machines – and were being ferried out of the building. Still clutching the crying child, he struggled to his feet and barreled toward the museum exit, hunching over to shield her from stray bullets. He could hear a few of them hitting the force field; most would have been deflected by his armor, but at least one bullet hit near the back of his head; an area Batman could not adequately shield without compromising his mobility. He silently thanked Midori. Flash met him halfway across the atrium. Batman shoved the girl into his arms. “Take her!” he shouted. He had already noticed that the Joker had vanished. “Where is he?” Batman barked, knowing Meera would understand exactly who he meant. >> He’s headed toward the Human Body exhibit,<< she responded. >> The one on the second floor with the giant walk-through heart.<< Batman ripped the grappling hook from his belt and aimed it toward the second-story railing where, minutes earlier, the Joker had been dangling a child. —
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:58:21 GMT -5
Midori wasn’t the only one with access to the lights. The three columns of sunshine pouring through the huge holes in the ceiling were enough to illuminate the entire building, but it soon became obvious why Brainiac wanted the electrical lights on. During surreptitious preparations that had apparently gone on for some time, he had turned most of them into lasers that were now bearing down onto the second and ground floors. Superman and Superwoman were still zipping around the center, snatching up random civilians. But Midori and Grendel had now focused their attention on Brainiac, who continued to float above them on what they could tell was a very responsive hover disk. But he was not the only Coluan in the building who could make himself fly. In an assault that was more emotional than strategic, Midori launched herself into the air, rocket boots blazing, and took aim at Brainiac with the same bazooka-like gun she’d used against Chemo. This time the substance blasting towards her target was a polymer meant to bind to and decompose any known form of metal. Whether or not it would have worked against the advanced substance from which Brainiac had formed his latest body, she would never know; like his opponents, he was wearing a force field. Gren relayed this information immediately to Meera. If Brainiac was shielded, he reasoned, the Joker might be, too. Brainiac was regarding Midori with as much of leer as was possible for a flexible metal face. “I’ve heard of you, my little Coluan,” he said. “Wreaking vengeance for the entire homeworld, are you?” Midori swerved out of the way of a barrage of energy bolts that came from somewhere near the center of Brainiac’s midsection and seized a second weapon. Gren decided to buy her the time she needed to aim by seizing their foe in his trademark green hand. Immediately a barrage of yellow laser light blasted through the hand and hurtled toward Gren himself. He looked particularly pleased at Brainiac’s expression when the light melted harmlessly off of him. “Like I’m not gonna do something about my one known weakness,” Gren yelled. Like Batman, he offered unspoken gratitude to Midori for the force field. Brainiac held up a casual arm to deflect the discharge from Midori’s latest weapon. “How clever of you,” he said caustically, and touched a button on a control panel he wore on his arm. Suddenly, both Gren’s force field and Midori’s were gone – as was the power behind Midori’s rocket boots. —
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 20:59:51 GMT -5
Quiver had been closest to Joker when he started to run and she had sprinted after him. She heard boots pounding behind her and felt a rush of comfort knowing her father was with her. She tore around an exhibit without looking at it and before she could respond to Arsenal’s shout of warning, was almost flattened by the arm of a gigantic pendulum that had suddenly swung off its pivot. “Bastard,” she hissed as she pulled herself off of the hard tile floor. She left a smear of blood behind her, but didn’t have time to check to see where she was bleeding. She was hurrying down the corridor where she had last seen the Joker when Arsenal called to her again, this time by her first name, ordering her to stop. Panting, he nodded at her bleeding forehead. “Force fields are down.” Quiver jabbed at the button on her belt. Nothing happened. “Oh, well,” she said, shrugging. And she resumed her race toward the Joker, Arsenal now running beside her. Joker had planted his goons along the path to the Human Body exhibit and not all of them had guns. As the Harpers dashed toward their primary target, they found themselves dodging razor-sharp Frisbees whimsically adorned with the science center logo. But father and daughter were both trained to fire arrows as they ran and none of their opponents were remotely skilled enough to do anything more than slow them down. As the Harpers threw themselves gasping against either side of the exhibit entrance, they heard another pair of boots hammering the floor and spun quickly, arrows drawn, to confront their pursuer. “Me,” Batman said. Quiver noticed with mild annoyance that he wasn’t even panting. She nodded toward the exhibit; in the center of the floor stood a pulsing, one-story replica of the Human Heart. They listened for a moment to the synthetic beating rhythm that made the experience so thrilling for the thousands of children who ran through the model every day. But the heart wasn’t beating unaccompanied. A thin mewing sound echoed along with every automatic beat. Quiver groaned. “There’s a kid in there.” “Two,” said Batman in a low voice. “And I can promise you just about everything in this room is booby-trapped.” —
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Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 21:01:21 GMT -5
Midori tumbled toward the marble floor, too focused on working out an effective response to Brainiac’s last move to worry about the consequences of a fifty-foot drop. In the back of her mind, she expected Gren to catch her, but it was the Flash who grabbed her before she hit the ground. “Thanks,” she said, wriggling out of his arms and seizing something from her weapons belt. Clutching this newest gun with two hands, she aimed almost randomly into the sky. The Flash gripped her arm. “Wait,” he said, and nodded above their heads. “Grendel.” Gren had encased Brainiac in a tight green bubble and was attempting to slam him head first into one of the pillars that adorned the grand foyer. The android-bound Coluan villain had been knocked off of his hover disk, but he did not appear to be struggling, and with a sudden, slashing movement of his hand, he sent a quartet of glowing yellow daggers through his spherical enclosure and straight toward Gren’s chest. Gren turned sideways just in time to take the blades in the length of his left arm, but the force of the assault and the pain, knocked him backward into a fountain that ordinarily spouted rainbow-hued streams of water. Impact with the shallow pool would have severely injured him at best, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see a terrified Midori pushing the Flash toward the fountain and seconds before he broke the surface, he felt acid scald his nostrils. Fortunately, Wally could walk on more than just water. He was righting Gren on the atrium’s marble floor when an orange tongue of flame forced them apart. “Fuck,” muttered the Green Lantern as he clutched his scorched arm and glared angrily up at Brainiac, who had repositioned himself on the floating disk. Gren tried to hold the villain’s eyes for as long as he could and he was gratified to see Superwoman’s feet come down hard on the back of Brainiac’s metal head. “That’s for my car,” Superwoman shouted, as both of them slammed into the polished floor. “I’m sorry about your car. It was a quaint little machine,” said Brainiac evenly as he pulled himself out of the crater caused by his collision with the marble ground. “That missile was meant to hit you.” — Continued on Page 2
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