Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 4, 2008 21:05:01 GMT -5
“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.
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.
—