Truth & Justice II #8

[Spider-Man Beyond]

“What if I don’t touch the floor?” Quiver whispered as they stared at the entrance to the enormous heart. “I can anchor a line to the wall and swing right in.”

Batman shook his head. “It’s probably set to blow,” he said, “if one of us as much as crosses the threshold.”

They did not have time to discuss other options. Pepper Bennett and a rat-faced accomplice had rolled up behind them in an ice cream truck armed like a Patton tank. Ice cream cones filled with plastic explosives detonated in a sticky barrage over their heads, forcing Batman, Quiver and Arsenal to scatter into the Human Body exhibit – where they found themselves in the middle of a volley of machine gun fire.

Batman threw himself onto the floor and looked toward the source of the gunfire. The Joker was merrily riding a bicycle suspended by gyroscopic stabilizers that was meant to demonstrate the function of the musculoskeletal system. As his skinny legs peddled the bike along its track, bullets sprayed from the enormous counterweight used to keep the vehicle stable.

There was a huge explosion behind them and as metal fragments and at least one body part rained down on Batman and his teammates, the Joker stopped pedaling and stared in fascinated surprise.

Apparently, in his zeal to mow down three members of the Justice League at once, he had not considered that his bullets might hit the fuel tank of the ice cream truck. Bennett and Rat-Face had unexpectedly left the demented clown’s employ.

“Oh, dear,” he said, stepping quickly onto a hover disk identical to Brainiac’s. “Well, that’s one for you, Batman. Those were the boys I trusted with the task of blowing up your Daddy.”

Cramming down the blackest rage, Batman started to pull himself up from the floor, but before he’d made it all the way to his feet, Joker’s wrist made a little flicking motion and a playing card flew through the air. There was an explosion – and a gasp of pain a few feet behind him. Quiver had apparently started to draw on the madman. Now her bow lay in pieces and she was clutching what Batman could see was a badly broken arm. She was obviously in agony, but she wasn’t frightened – she was furious.

“That was my favorite bow, you bitch,” she screamed. Her left hand reached back, flailing wildly for her crossbow despite the obvious pain it had caused her to let go of her broken arm. The Joker raised his green eyebrows in mock offense at her harsh language. He flung another playing card at Arsenal, who had been trying to edge over to his daughter. The Red Arrow rolled away an instant before the tiny bomb detonated.

"She's such a disappointment, isn't she, Arsenal? A mouth like a sewer… and that long, long line of men… But slutty super daughters seemed to be the rule in this group," his chin lifted slightly as his eyes moved a few yards to Batman's left. "Aren't they, Dr. Kent?"

"If you say so," Superwoman had quietly splinted Quiver’s arm at super-speed before alighting next to the giant heart. Her hand moved toward her right hip and suddenly Martha Kent was facing the Joker. A large nylon sack was slung across her back.

"Now that's much better. I've always found masks to be so rude," said the Joker, nodding toward Batman.

Before you get all aeronautical," he added, returning to Martha, "I think it only fair to warn you that there are two little whipper-snappers trapped in that heart. And it's set to explode the moment there are fewer pairs of feet on this floor than have walked onto it."

Martha's burning black eyes remained locked on the psychotic harlequin. She said nothing. Batman watched her cautiously, wondering if the booby-trapped floor had put an end to her plans to end the madman's life.

"How's your boyfriend?" the Joker asked Martha.

"Still alive," said Martha through clenched teeth.

The insane clown glanced thoughtfully at Batman, but continued to address Martha. "You didn't ask which one I meant."

Lian shifted angrily from where she sat on the floor, but Arsenal, fearing the heart might explode, waved his daughter down.

"And Harvey?" asked the Joker softly. "How's he?"

Martha rubbed dry lips together and tried to look impassive, but it was obvious the Joker’s last question had shaken her. Without taking her eyes from the monstrous clown, she reached up to run her hand through her hair and Batman realized, with a plummeting heart, that she had done so in order to furtively untie the top of the nylon sack.

Then he felt it: the slightest breeze across his bare chin, all but undetectable. He listened intently to the synthetic heart. Its pulsing rhythm was no longer accompanied by children's sobs. His eyes shifted to his teammates. Neither Arsenal nor Quiver had sensed Superman's fleeting but crucial presence in the booby-trapped exhibit, but Batman could tell by the tense curve at the corners of her mouth that Martha knew her father had rescued the children. Had he also deactivated the bomb?

The Joker's leer moved from Batman to Martha.

"Drinking from two fountains, Dr. Kent? What would Daddy thi--"

He never got the chance to finish his sentence. Batman saw a dozen waking nightmares become real as grim-faced, Martha whipped out an enormous ray-gun shaped pistol out of the sack on her back and aimed it at the Joker.

With unbearable desperation, Batman lunged at Martha's outstretched arm, but something hard and blue intercepted him with a force that knocked him to the ground.

"What are you doing?" he screamed at Superman. But the Man of Steel's eyes were riveted on his daughter as he silently thrust a hand out to hold Batman back.

The conical beam from the gun was visible only as a shimmer that broke through the waves of light around it like smog on a hot city night. It widened as it bridged the gap between the maniacal clown and Martha, and when it hit the Joker, his features twisted in shock as his body froze and started to fade slowly away.

Batman had always thought the Joker would die laughing.

He barely remembered getting to his feet. It was though he was watching everything through a heavy filter of darkness. Though the Joker had vanished, Martha continued to aim the gun, her face awash in disbelief -- whether it was at having actually succeeded in ridding the world of the Joker, or having killed, Batman didn't know.

He turned on Superman, furious, and was stupefied to see the Kansas-bred Kryptonian smiling at his daughter.

"I think I can live with that," Superman said.

Her father's words seemed to break Martha's trance. "We have to help the others," she said, reactivating her blonde doppelganger. Still gripping the gun, she flew out of the exhibit. Superman moved to follow her, but Batman, suddenly understanding, grabbed his huge blue arm.

"The Phantom Zone?" he asked.

Superman nodded. “Come on. We’ve still got Brainiac.”

Batman watched Superman disappear down the museum corridor. Numbness coursed through his body. He turned to Arsenal, who had just reached his daughter, and said, “Stay with Quiver.”

“‘Stay with Quiver’ hell,” Batman heard Lian shout as he raced down the hallway. “I’m gonna short-circuit that computerized son-of-a-bitch.”

But none of them got further than the next exhibit. Batman saw a thick ray of light traversing the hallway outside the attraction and knew immediately that if he broke through the beam, he would trigger some sort of weapon. Without stopping, he slid under the light, clearing it easily. But Brainiac, it seemed, had rigged multiple light triggers, not all of them within the visible spectrum. Batman suddenly felt as if his head were exploding. He skidded across the floor, feeling one of the Harpers’ boots ram into his injured shoulder. He clutched through his mask at his right ear, ruptured, it seemed, by a volley of high-frequency sound-waves.

He checked his teammates. Roy was covering both of his ears; Lian, hampered by her broken wing, was vainly attempting to protect both sides of her head by wrapping her left arm around it.

Batman staggered to his feet, guessing that the headpiece he wore in his left ear had protected that eardrum. Neither of the Harpers seemed able to stand without falling, but the Dark Knight started drag himself back to the main atrium.

—

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Superwoman had left the fight with Brainiac earlier only when a blast from one of Midori’s energy guns had knocked him back into the crater and Gren had sealed him there in what she’d assumed was an impenetrable solid-light dome. But the battle had turned since she’d followed the sound of explosions – and Lian’s scream – into the Human Body exhibit.

Gren was exchanging blasts with Brainiac, but blood dribbled from the Green Lantern’s ears and from a cut on his forehead. Midori – and Meera, who ordinarily remained in a secure position – were sprawled onto unyielding stone floor. Meera’s agony seemed extraordinary – Martha suspected the empath was feeling more than just her own pain – and Midori was struggling for consciousness. Superwoman felt afraid the immobile traces of red she could see behind the acid-spewing fountain might be an unconscious Flash.

As she hurtled into the room, Brainiac looked up and offered a chilling smile. “Oh,” he said, carelessly batting the Green Lantern away with a lightning-like bolt of yellow energy. “Finally. The main event.”

At first Superwoman thought he was talking to her, but then she realized he was looking past her, at her father. The genius mega-villain touched a silver button on his left wrist and flicked his eyes briefly at the shattered glass ceiling.

Superwoman was aiming the Phantom Zone projector at Brainiac when three giant skull-shaped pods came crashing through the museum roof, spraying liquid Kryptonite as they spun relentlessly through the grand foyer. One of the pods slammed hard into her shoulder and the gun plummeted to the ground, shattering upon impact.

It wasn’t until Superman skidded to an airborne halt in the middle of the three pods that Brainiac realized there might be a flaw in his plan. Kryptonite rained down over the Man of Steel – and his daughter – but neither of them seemed concerned.

“You’re wearing different force fields.” Brainiac’s voice thundered over the roar of his skull ships. “But don’t think I can’t disable them.” He reached for the control panel on his arm, but Superwoman plowed into his metal chest just as her father threw all of his weight into an uppercut under the nearest ship’s skeletal chin.

Superman had angled his punch so that the skull ship would go flying out through the museum roof, but the pod detonated on the spot like a small sun, shattering the columns supporting the grand foyer and causing structures and statues around the enormous room to collapse. A pained, panting Green Lantern threw up a giant umbrella over Meera and Midori seconds before the huge head of Carl Sagan would have smashed them.

Superwoman had overpowered Brainiac, clutching him by the wrists; but rather than showing rage or fear, he seemed eerily amused.

“Your partner’s out of the picture,” she shouted at him, hoping this news would throw him.

Instead, he smiled. “And so are you.”

Before she could let go of his arms, Brainiac’s eyes glowed green and she was blasted nearly across the room by twin beams of Kryptonite-infused energy that she knew had penetrated her force field.

Superman, horrified by the devastation he had caused by striking at the first pod, had lifted a second skull ship out through the roof of the building as soon as it seemed like his daughter had Brainiac under control. He made sure he had carried the ship clear of the exosphere before dispatching it with a blow that sent it splintering into space. But when he returned to the science center, Superwoman was wobbling to her feet on the other side of the vast room and his other teammates besieged by a salvo of artillery emanating from the remaining ship.

He swooped in through the rooftop and shoved his hands under the hovercraft’s Kryptonite-spewing eyes, using them as a handhold to pull the craft up. He was halfway to the ceiling when his hands began to burn and he felt the familiar, nauseating feeling of Kryptonite poisoning spreading through his body. Brainiac had finally disabled his force field.

“Goodbye, Superman,” said Brainiac flatly, as the Man of Steel collapsed helplessly on the top of the hovering skull.

Midori pushed herself to her feet. “No!” she shouted through bloody lips. She aimed a final weapon at Brainiac and it became clear that he, too, had lost his force field: Whatever she had fired at him made him clutch desperately at his chest, which her teammates could see was now slowly corroding.

In response, he sent a thundering spiral of electricity toward Midori. It missed her by inches, but debris from the blast buried her up to her shoulders.

“Call me nostalgic,” boomed Brainiac’s cold mechanical voice as he hovered over the barely conscious Midori. He trained a laser pistol on her blonde head. “I love to kill Coluans. It brings back memories of my first triumph.”

Meera, only feet away from Midori, gazed up at Brainiac with a mix of desperation and pain. “No,” she whispered. “No.” She closed her eyes.

And suddenly Brainiac started to scream.

It was a shriek full of incomparable torment, of a twisted mad pain none of them had ever heard before. He seized at his cybernetic head and, to the shock of the goggling Justice League, he tore it free from his metallic body.

“Oh my God!” yelled Superwoman, as Batman came skidding around the second-story balcony. The Green Lantern, his mouth hanging open, grabbed the unconscious Superman from the surviving pod with his huge green hand and pulled him to safety.

Brainiac’s head continued to scream as he held it as far as he could from the rest of his synthetic body. The hover disk slipped from beneath his feet and he started to fall. Seconds before he hit the ground, a pair of rocket boots similar to Midori’s seemed to activate automatically, sending him up through what could no longer be called a rooftop. His remaining skull ship soared after him and in the seconds it took for Superwoman to garner the strength to follow him, Brainiac – and his hovercraft – had disappeared.

“What the fuck happened?” shouted Gren as he delivered a stirring Superman to the floor of the museum. The Flash, who had awakened from unconsciousness in part due to Brainiac’s piecing screams, was pulling rubble away from the dazed Midori. Arsenal and Quiver stumbled onto the balcony beside Batman and gaped at the remains of the grand foyer.

A small sob broke through the chaos and all eyes fell on Meera. She was sitting on the ground, clutching her knees to her body and rocking like a brutalized child.

Quiver edged closer to her father and they stared together at the weeping telepath.

“What did she do?” Lian asked.

Roy shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Superwoman dropped next to the sobbing woman and wrapped her arms around her. “It’s OK,” she whispered. “You had to.”

Gren joined Martha, falling to his knees in front of Meera. He cupped her chin and tried to raise her face to his, but she twisted away and buried her head back against her knees. “You did right,” he said. “You saved us.”

Still holding Meera, Superwoman scanned the room, noting with relief that her father – that all of her teammates – were safe. Reassured, she found her eyes moving irresistibly to the balcony where Batman had stood just a second ago.

He was gone.

—

[Spider-Man Beyond]

“There we go.” Martha refastened the sling supporting Lian’s heavy white cast and carefully readjusted her roommate’s collar. She inspected Lian for signs of discomfort.

“Thank you, my servant,” said Lian regally, leaning against the soft, battered couch. “And now I desire some libation.”

Martha’s laugh was strained, but she ambled willingly over to the refrigerator. “Healthy or unhealthy?” she called.

“Oh, get real,” said Lian. “Unhealthy.” Martha tossed her a can of Dr. Pepper; Lian caught it easily with her good hand, which she then examined with great distaste.

“My nails look like hell,” she said.

“Want me to paint ‘em?” Martha asked. Lian looked pointedly at her roommate’s sweat shirt and faded jeans.

“Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?” she asked. “For that fancy, boring stuck-up country club thing?”

Martha’s laugh was short and harsh. “He’s not coming.”

“Did he call and say he wasn’t?” Lian asked.

“He hasn’t called and said anything. I haven’t seen him since last week, when I dropped Alfred off at the mansion. He could barely look at me.”

Lian’s almond eyes registered sympathy. “Are you su—?”

“I’m sure,” said Martha bitterly. “I took away his criminal. And if you think he'll ever forgive me..."

There was a rap at the front door. Lian gave her suddenly immobile roommate a quick glance, then bounded toward the peephole with a speed and grace that belied the awkwardness of her heavy plaster cast. She looked through the tiny window, then turned to Martha.

“You’d better get dressed,” she said.

Martha flew into her bedroom. Lian counted to three, then turned the knob. Bruce Wayne stepped into the apartment wearing the hottest tux Lian had ever seen.

“How’s the arm?” he asked. “And the eardrums?”

She shrugged. “Healing. And yours?”

“The same.” His eyes wandered across the room. “Is she ready?”

“She will be in a second,” said Lian, adding, “She didn’t think you were coming.”

Bruce was quiet for a moment. “To tell you the truth, neither did I.”

“Why did you?” Lian asked. She was surprised when he answered. She knew that he didn’t much care for her.

“A lot of reasons,” Bruce said, his eyes following the sound of creaking on the other side of Martha’s bedroom door. “But mostly –”

Martha stepped out of her bedroom wearing a black silk dress, upswept hair and a profoundly nervous expression.

“Yes?” Lian nudged. Bruce continued to answer, but this time he was addressing Martha.

“I didn’t want the Joker’s last casualty to be our friendship,” he said.

Martha’s eyes grazed the floor. “It wasn’t,” she said.

Lian’s eyes rolled clear to the ceiling. “Oh, God,” she said, pulling open the door with her good arm. “Please leave. The two of you are making me sick.”

Continued...