Post by Admin on Jun 27, 2018 14:16:09 GMT -5
He hadn’t meant for it to happen, and perhaps, that makes it worse that it did. It was an accident, because of course he wouldn’t wish that fate upon anybody. But there was no doubt-- in the end, it was his fault.
The Dark Knight had cornered the ringleader of the Red Hood Gang on the walkway above the waste chemical tanks, and instead of the braggadocious, flamboyant criminal mastermind who had slipped through his fingers time and time again, the scarlet helmet-wearing criminal was terrified, hands waving around in abject fright as the Caped Crusader cornered him.
He had begged, pleaded with the vigilante, but in the end the Red Hood had jumped-- or fallen-- or slipped-- and plummeted into the vats below, his entire body submerged in a chemical concoction that should have killed him dead.
But instead… no body was recovered.
And some months later… the Joker debuted, and the rest was history.
“The Red Hood--!”
It couldn’t have been Jason Todd. The shooter’s build was all wrong, and Bruce knew exactly where his former sidekick was currently operating. This Red Hood was lithe, muscular beneath the tailored suit, but the helmet he wore obscured his actual height. It could be him. It could be the Joker. But why the fanfare?
“I love it when you say my name!” shouted the villain, as he spun his second pistol around his finger before aiming them both akimbo at the pair at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s been a while, Bats.”
The voice was distorted. Could be because of the mask, or it could be some kind of vocoder. Something to disguise the true identity of their attacker.
Didn’t matter. This was an attack. Expertly tailored to weaponise bad memories and past associations. Who could be behind it? Didn’t matter. Focus. That’s all that Batman could do. He raised a batarang and threw it with all his might toward the shooter’s hand, but the distance proved too long, and he signposted his movement-- the batarang was shattered with a single gunshot, and then the barrage continued.
The Dark Knight threw down a smoke pellet and ducked for cover, while the Princess of Themyscira continued to walk forward, displacing the bullets coming her way with simple twists and deflections of her wrists. The Red Hood seemed to notice that nothing he was doing was halting Wonder Woman’s steady walk toward him, so he pulled a grenade from his jacket, went to pull the pin out with his mouth but realised his mask got in the way.
So, instead, Hood fumbled with both guns in his hands and managed to yank the pin out, then threw it at Wonder Woman, who was halfway up the stairs.
Without hesitating, Batman levelled his grapnel gun and fired off a line that latched around the grenade with its clawed prongs and then propelled it back toward Hood, who dove out of the way as it smashed into the wall behind the villain and exploded, sending debris everywhere.
Wonder Woman flew forward, barrelled into the Red Hood, and tackled him to the ground. She hoisted him up by the throat, and then slapped his guns from his hands. Having disarmed him, she began to pry the helmet off his head, saying, “Let’s--”
--Only for the Red Hood to punch her so hard he drew blood and sent her spinning to the bottom of the stairs where the Dark Knight stood.
The Red Hood leaned back and began to laugh-- a hearty, mocking fit of hysterics-- and then shook his gloved finger at the pair below him. “Did you really think it would be that easy?”
Financed and built by Wayne Enterprises, Arkham Island was supposed to be an inescapable institute where the mentally-ill denizens of Gotham City could finally get the dedicated help they needed to be rehabilitated. It was also designed to be inescapable, and as of yet, there had been none of the chaotic, explosive jailbreaks that had riddled the history of the old Arkham Asylum.
That was, until now…
Detectives John Jones and Renee Montoya had been summoned after the administrator of the institute, Jeremiah Arkham, couldn’t access the cell of Jervis Tetch, aka the Mad Hatter. With Katar Hol and Kimiyo Hoshi, aka Hawkman and Doctor Light, on hand, the group arrived on Arkham Island, only to find that Tetch was no longer in his cell-- his escape hidden by a holographic projection!
“I don’t like this. Not one bit,” murmured Jones.
“That your famous policeman’s intuition rearing its head?” asked Montoya.
Katar, out of costume and out of his famous patience, said, “Our consultant should be here any-- ”
Emerging from a shimmering orange portal, Angela Spica materialised, her second, silver skin manifested across her body. She looked like she was made of metal, but her appearance was down to the nanomachines that lived inside her. “Hey folks, sorry I’m late,” she said.
“…Another one? Another one of your ‘old friends’, John?” said Montoya.
Ever since John had been stuck in his human form, he’d tried to keep his previous heroic identity as the Martian Manhunter in the past, but with the arrival of not one, but two superheroes on his doorstep, his partner, Montoya, was beginning to get suspicious. And who could blame her?
“Uh, am I intruding on something?” Angie asked.
John shook his head. “No, but--”
“And how do you know Detective Jones?” said Renee.
“Not… particularly… well?” Angie answered, honestly.
“Oh. You’re an open book, aren’t you?” replied Renee.
“I mean, I don’t like lying, if that’s what you’re saying?”
Katar shook his head. “Can we focus on the matter at hand? Here are the cliff notes: Arkham Island is on lockdown and Batman is trusting us to deal with this. Mad Hatter is out of his cell, and we have no idea where he is. The door was fused, and a hologram was used to trick those who might check in on him.”
“Okay, can you all step out? I want to try something,” said Angie.
Those present did as they were told, and Angie extended her hands and sent out an invisible fleet of nanites into the air. A full diagnostic was run on the cell, feeding information into her technologically enhanced mind. She was plugged into every nanomachine in her body and now out, and it allowed her to be a walking forensics lab.
The first thing she identified was the microscopic holographic projector embedded on the wall above the plastic mirror next to the sink. She pulled it out from its hiding place with a wave of her hand, and then sent threads of connective wires from her palm into the available sockets.
“There’s our projector then,” said Kimiyo.
“I’ll be right back. Montoya, do you want to join me?” said Katar, heading toward the control booth that Jeremiah had vanished into. Renee did as instructed, happy to follow this weirdness as far down the rabbit hole as it would allow.
“It’s been active for a week. What happened a week ago?” asked Angie.
“Lawyer!” shouted Katar from the control booth. “He met with his lawyer a week ago!”
Lorraine Reilly’s head was spinning. Moments ago, Martin Stein, her partner in the Firestorm Matrix, had informed her that her appendix was growing back, after it had burst and been removed in her youth. That was weird. And Stein’s donated kidney, long absent from his body, had started to regenerate as well. The implications were massive. Medical research, transplant science, the healing benefits of the Firestorm Matrix… that was mind-blowing.
“I need to perform more tests, of course, but this is-- ” Stein was interrupted by his cellphone, buzzing loudly on his oak desk. “Let me get this, and then we’ll figure it out, all right?”
“I mean… sure…” replied Lorraine.
“Doctor Gray, I was just--” he started, but then the voice on the other side of the conversation started to talk hurriedly, and he listened intently. “Your colleague says what?”
Lorraine was pulled from her spinning head by Martin’s tone of voice. “Professor…?”
Linda Gray was one of the leads at S.T.A.R. Labs New York, and Lorraine and Martin had entered her orbit after Ronnie Raymond-- the previous Firestorm-- had fallen into a coma after a catastrophic medical episode. Martin had known her when he was younger, but while he had gone into academia, she’d worked her way up in the private sector. If she was calling…
“And… and Ronald is all right? Okay. Okay, of course! We’ll get right on it!”
“Something weird is going on at Belmont, uptown. Everyone’s acting very strangely, and S.T.A.R. had a man on site, who was able to call it in.”
“Isn’t that where the Guardian is?” asked Lorraine.
“Yes! My word…” {Guardian! This is Martin Stein! Do you read me?}
Nothing but static. Lorraine asked, “Any luck?”
“Some kind of interference. We need to get there, quickly!”
Lorraine held out her hand, and Martin reached out and clasped it. Their bodies spun together and melded into one, the pair transforming into Firestorm within a heartbeat. “Door!” said Lorraine, but nothing opened. “Door!” she repeated, but no luck. “What is going on!?”
{The failure in both of the Justice League’s main systems cannot be a coincidence. We’ll have to fly there!} said Stein, his voice echoing in her head now that they were combined into their elemental identity.
“You sure this is the right address?” Montoya asked, looking at the scrap of paper Jones was holding, then back up at the looming, ugly structure that they’d arrived in front of moments earlier. They were situated in one of the roughest parts of town, the kind of parts that would usually be punctuated by burning trashcans in the right kind of post-apocalyptic movie. This was where they needed to be, and they didn’t like it one bit.
Jones double-checked and then nodded. “Anchorage House, home of Cecil Liebowitz, attorney-at-law and a junior partner at Sterling & Harris.”
“And this doesn’t strike you as weird?” asked Renee, gesturing at the dilapidated structure all around them.
“An attorney living in Park Row? Don’t they get paid more?”
“Yup. Especially the rats at Sterling & Harris.”
“Especially.”
Montoya rang the buzzer and waited. When there came no response, she pressed every button for every apartment in one sweeping movement and waited even longer, until someone buzzed her in. “Gotham City magic,” she said, opening the door when it unlocked.
“We don’t have a warrant,” said Jones.
“Not yet we don’t. DA is working on it now. Chasing down a judge as we speak. So, you wanna wait, or should we meet them halfway?”
“You’re a terrible influence,” said Jones.
The building’s elevator was out of order, and Liebowitz’s apartment was on the top floor, so the pair rambled upstairs. They knocked on his front door, waited, knocked again, waited even longer, and then when Montoya’s phone buzzed to alert them a warrant had been secured, John’s shoulder did the rest.
“Oh, holy crap,” whispered Montoya, as they came face-to-face with the dead body of Jervis Tetch’s lawyer, Cecil Liebowitz. He was sat in his underwear, wearing nothing but a pair of briefs and a party hat, his chest slaked with dried blood that had poured out of the gaping wound in his throat.
“He’s been dead for days,” said Jones, not bothered by the stench of decomposition that had hit them hard in the nostrils upon entry. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and lifted off the man’s party hat and saw that it was lined with the same mind-control technology they’d read about on the way over - Mad Hatter’s.
“This isn’t right,” said Montoya, as she turned to call the crime scene in.
“The wound was self-inflicted,” said Jones, pointing at the butcher’s knife sat on the floor where it had fallen from the victim’s hand. “Have any of Tetch’s victims killed themselves before?”
“No, I read that the technology can’t push someone to do that. If he’s figured out a way to break that limitation…”
“This is bad,” said Jones.
“…Really bad,” agreed Montoya.
At Mera’s beckoning, Zealot stepped through the portal and arrived in the oxygen dome of Poseidonis’ royal palace and was instantly amazed by the majesty of the sights. They’d spent the first part of the day touring New Khera, the colony established by the surviving members of the Kherubim race, and then some time later exploring Laputa, the Justice League’s island headquarters. This was the third stop on their agenda, and it was jaw-dropping for Zealot to experience.
“By Hecate…” she whispered.
The dome was transparent, and you could see the entirety of the capital city from the vantage point. The spiralling towers, the water-breathing denizens of the kingdom going about their days, the patrols of bio-shock staff-wielding armed guards… this was the crown jewel of the seven seas, and it was a wonder to behold.
“This… is yours?” Zealot asked.
“Yes,” replied Mera.
“It’s amazing… there’s… there was nothing like this on Khera,” said Zealot.
They stood on a metal walkway, ancient but in pristine condition, that led to numerous portals that held back the might of the ocean. You could walk from this refuge for surface dwellers into the submerged sections of the kingdom with ease, if you wanted to. Beneath them was the immense library of Atlantis, once lost but pieced together by numerous rulers prior to Orin’s ascension to the throne.
“If you want to be part of the world, this is an aspect that few have been privy to. We’ve made numerous attempts to become a larger part of the surface world’s running but have been held back by the machinations of enemies both under the sea and above. But we’re recognised by the United Nations and hope to start an outreach program that connects the surface to the seas.”
“What does that have to do with the Kherubim?”
“Well. We have alliances with Themyscira, another kingdom that does not conform to the expectations of the above-water nations. There is a fear of the unknown that haunts the governments of the world. Islands of warrior women who don’t conform to the same values as the rest of the world. United undersea nations that cover more of the Earth than any one country combined… and now a race of alien titans has landed on their northern point and want nothing but peace… those are the kinds of things that rankle the elites of the world.”
“And what do you propose?” Zealot asked, gripping the handrail and looking up at the undersea sights that surrounded them.
“We are stronger united than we are apart, and that goes beyond the three of us, Diana’s people included. We propose a compact between nations. You would have the overt support of the united kingdoms of Atlantis, and you know Diana will support you in anyway you need in your efforts to be recognised on the world stage. This is not an ultimatum, Zannah. You would have our support regardless… but we wish to stride out into the world’s theatre. To bring our culture to the widest reaches of Earth.”
“You say we already scare them… won’t this do more harm than good?”
“An alliance of nations should send a positive message out into the world,” said Aquaman, emerging from one of the portals nearby.
Zannah watched as every molecule of water was drawn back into the membrane of the gateway, and he emerged completely dry. He was holding a young child on his shoulder, who shared a shock of blond hair with the king.
“This is our son, Arthur Jr,” said Mera, taking their toddler from Orin’s shoulder. “He’s the reason we do everything we do. Our commitment to a better future is to ensure it for him, and those like him.”
“An alliance…” murmured Zannah.
First things first. Mister Miracle knocked hats off those who attacked him, hoping that they would keel over, or at least come to their senses. Instead, he saw that the strips of mind control technology inside the party hats had partially fused to the skin of those infected, a veritable crown of brainwashing tech that refused to turn off when the hats were discarded.
Scott Free was never the strongest of his New God kin. But he was smart and fast, and while Himon was smarter and Fastbak faster, he knew what to do with his skillset to perfection. He sent darting palm strikes into the wrists and elbow joints of those attacking him, enough to knock the weapons out of their hands, and then he hopped over their heads and continued to chase after the Mad Hatter, who had headed for the stairwell.
Scott threw himself through the door and skidded to a stop against the bars of the banister, then rolled backwards and hooked his cape around the door handle so no one could unlatch it and follow after him. He looked down toward the bottom staircases, then up to see Tetch scrambling up toward the roof.
“Not gonna get away from me,” Scott mumbled. He hopped onto his Aero-Discs and then shot upwards, ascending in the middle section of the stairs, until he reached the roof access door, which Tetch had just vanished through.
Mister Miracle, sans cape, somersaulted onto the roof, and watched as the Mad Hatter stood on the edge of the building, a thick grin on the lunatic’s face. “What’s this all about, Tetch? Revenge for the Guardian showing you up all those months ago?”
“Revenge? Oh, that sounds sickly sweet and so out of character for the likes of me. No, no, no, I did this because I was asked to for an old friend. And because it’s fun.” He gestured below him. “Care for a trip?”
Mister Miracle grimaced. What game was the Mad Hatter playing? No matter. He approached cautiously. He tried accessing the nanotelepathic link now that he was outside but still no luck. He took a step forward, and without any resistance punched Tetch hard in the face, knocking his hat off his head and his wits out of his brain.
The villain crumpled, and then Mister Miracle realised why Tetch had been so nonchalant-- below him, on all the balconies and from the open windows, men, women and children wearing party hats were all standing precariously close to their respective edges. And with the Mad Hatter now unconscious-- they all took a step forward--
“No-- !” shouted Miracle--
Dazed, Diana looked up at Bruce with wide eyes, completely confused by what had just transpired. “H-he hits hard.”
Batman’s eyes turned to slits. How was that possible?
He looked back up at the Red Hood, who was casually making his way down the stairs. “It’s been so long. Too long.”
“You’re not him,” whispered Batman.
“Who’s to say who I am?” said the Red Hood. “Am I me or are you you or are we what we aren’t?”
“No. You’re not him. I can tell. In fact… you’re not even a ‘him’, are you?”
“Did you just assume my gender?” hissed the Red Hood.
Batman dove forward, hopped over the Red Hood, and unclasped his black cape at the last moment so it descended upon his opponent’s head. Blinded instantly and flailing her arms wildly, the Red Hood was instantly at a disadvantage.
Landing silently, Batman threw sharp punches into the Hood’s kidneys, causing the villain to double over, and he ducked suddenly when a wild elbow was thrown by the villain. Another rabbit punch landed in the villain’s armpit, and another straight into her crimson mask, hidden by the cape. Something shattered, but Batman continued to throw punches, each one designed to debilitate.
“No. No no no. This isn't happening,” whispered the Red Hood.
Batman froze, mid-punch. Memories from the early days. The Ace Chemicals Processing Plant. The Red Hood falling into a vat of--
A punch connected with the Dark Knight’s chest, sending him flying backwards. He crumpled, his armour working overtime to keep his sternum from shattering, and he knew first hand that Diana wasn’t lying when she said the Hood hit hard.
The Red Hood slowly walked toward where Batman had fallen, pulling away the cape that clung to the villain’s helmet. “Oh, Dear God, what have you sent to punish me?”
“You’re not him,” growled Batman, trying to stand, but his knees buckling as he made it halfway up.
The Red Hood continued to hiss. “Don't come closer! Don't come any closer, or I'll...’”
“Or you’ll do what?” shouted Wonder Woman.
Instantly, her lasso looped around the Red Hood’s torso and arms and she yanked it hard, allowing no slack for the villain to escape, then whipped it up with such force that it sent their opponent spinning up into the air.
With another yank, the villain came crashing down into the ground, the concrete dissolving on impact. She followed the villain down, pinned the villain’s shoulders down with her knees, and then smashed her fists into the remains of the helmet, until it was nothing but debris.
“You’re not the Joker,” said Diana, realising now who’d attacked them.
Her identity revealed, Harley Quinn grinned through broken teeth and the hamburger mush that her face had become under the force of the beating from both Batman and Wonder Woman.
“I-- I-- this-- this wasn’t me.” Her voice was different. Undistorted. “I-- I can’t control--” She raged against Diana’s pin, and her shoulders popped and strained under the effort. Her legs kicked out, trying to gain purchase, but she couldn’t escape. “It-- it-- it’s gonna get bad-- he’s gonna--#"
Quinn cried out as her body was wracked with a terrifying seizure that caused her eyes to roll up into the back of her head, and for blood and foam to gargle up from her throat and out of her mouth.
“Is it him? Is he coming back?” barked Batman, pulling himself over to where the two women were situated.
Harley couldn’t answer. She was shaking uncontrollably, and with one final cough-- a spray of blood leaving her lips that caught Batman in the face-- she passed out.
“No no no,” growled Batman. “What was this… what was all of this…?”
“Are you all right?” asked Wonder Woman.
“It has to be him. He’s coming back. This is just… just a warning shot. He wants us to know,” said Batman.
“It’s okay. We stopped her. And we’ll stop whatever comes next.”
He looked over Diana, who was sporting a dark bruise under her right eye where Harley had connected earlier. “She doesn’t normally hit that hard. Even with the formula Poison Ivy slipped her a few years back, she’s never been that strong.”
He gently brushed his fingers against her face then returned to glowering at Harley. “We need to get her secure. And I want to analyse her blood.”
“Go. I’ll take care of Quinn,” said Diana.
“Are you sure? We can…”
“Go. We’ll solve this mystery. And face whatever comes of it together,” she replied, kissing him on the cheek.
“This is outrageous-- not even the GCPD has the right to do what you’re doing!” complained Jeremiah
Kimiyo shook her head. “I have to be honest with you, Doctor. The fact that you don’t do proper bed checks means the Mad Hatter has been running free for a week. So now, we’re having to check every single door, and personally inspect every single inmate, to make sure there aren’t any more holographic emitters installed to keep you in the dark.”
Arkham shook his head. “This isn’t a normal hospital! The patients here have special needs that we have to enforce, or their treatment falls down at the first hurdle!”
Angie wiped her hands as the nanites she’d projected throughout the building returned to their home in her body. “Good news? My nanite net can’t detect any more holographic emitters in any of the cells. None of the cell doors are fused, and all the inmates are present and accounted for. I didn’t know a hospital could smell so bad, but here we are.”
<Doctor Arkham, you won’t believe this--> came the rustling voice from his radio.
“What is it now?”
<Wonder Woman just walked into patient intake with Harleen Quinzel!>
“W-what?!” Jeremiah looked frazzled for a moment, before he rushed away from the heroes.
“I can’t even tell if this is out of the norm for any given day on Arkham Island,” said Angie.
“C’mon, let’s see what Diana’s been up to today,” replied Kimiyo.
Back in the control hub at the end of the corridor that held the most severe patients, Katar was looking through their computer records for anything else unsavoury, ignoring the Arkham guard standing behind him. The Hawk Knight’s phone rang, and he picked it up when he saw it was John. “What’ve you found?” he asked.
<Liebowitz is dead. Self-inflicted knife wound to the throat. He died wearing Mad Hatter tech.>
“Seven Hells… and Mad Hatter wasn’t his firm’s only client. All the court-appointed lawyers and private firms kept by Arkham inmates were fired over the last year or so, and replaced by representatives from Sterling & Harris.”
<What do we know about them?>
“That’s the thing. I just checked the database. Their biggest client is Aleph Pharma.”
<Didn’t their CEO die a few weeks ago? At a charity gala*?>
“You’re damn right. I don’t think this is an isolated thing. I think we need to take this to their new CEO, Malik Swain.”
<Are you okay over there? We need to work the scene here, but keep me posted, all right?>
“Of course,” said Katar.
Angie popped her head into the control room. “Hey, Doctor Light is headed upstairs to meet up with the princess. Apparently, Harley Quinn made an appearance in London and threw down with Wonder Woman and Batman.”
“That’s… strange…” said Katar.
“Yeah, and so’s this,” said Angie. She took a seat next to Katar and flexed her fingers, threads of nanites unspooling from the tips of her digits and spinning into the Arkham computers. Rows of code began to appear on the computer screen. Nothing that made sense to the half-Thanagarian, but Angie pointed at a line of coding language that had caught her attention. “That shouldn’t be there.”
“What is it?”
“Some kind of rogue coding in the security protocols. Hey, have you ever heard of the ‘Code Red Worm’?”
“Why would you ask me a question like that?” asked Katar.
Angie managed a smile. Why would she think to ask him a question like that? She always appreciated Katar’s honesty. “Nearly two decades ago, a malware program designed to attack computers running Microsoft's IIS web server was discovered. It was designed very specifically to only affect that software, you follow? Nothing else was infected.”
Katar shrugged. “Assume I do.”
“This is something very similar. It specifically infected the Arkham security protocols after a Wayne Technology patch went live earlier this year. The patch included the vulnerability, but it was keyed to only get into the Arkham-specific servers.”
“Earlier this year… how long has it been in the computers?” asked Katar.
“About eight months,” replied Angie.
“Any time near…” Katar checked the notes he’d taken and then looked back at Angie. “…October 14th, last year?”
“From what I’ve unpicked, the patch went live the day before! Why?”
“That was when the first Sterling & Harris lawyer was hired by an Arkham inmate.”
“I really don’t like this, Katar,” said Angie.
“Me neither,” said the guard standing behind them, before realising he wasn’t supposed to be part of their conversation.
“Oh, my… are you all right?” asked Doctor Light, approaching Wonder Woman.
The princess turned, her eye swollen and the right side of her face a black and blue mess of contusions. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” said Kimiyo, concern etched across her features.
Diana smiled. “I’ve been in worse fights. And we won this one.”
She gestured down through the observation screens set up below them, to where Harley Quinn was being strapped to a table and bloods being drawn.
“Harley Quinn did that?”
“She wasn’t in her right mind, and her strength was augmented somehow,” noted Diana.
“I’ll, ah, I'll look at the test results when they’re generated, see what I can find.”
“...It’s good to have you back, Doctor,” said Diana.
“I just wish the circumstances were better.”
Wonder Woman laughed quietly. “You and me both. Say, has anyone reported issues with the Door systems? There was a delay in the portal opening when I called for one in London. I saw the look on Batman’s face, and you know he’s going to start asking questions.”
“Nothing reported, but then again, I’m kinda out of the loop,” admitted Doctor Light. “Maybe I could call Ted? But then again, he’s not exactly… well. Nevermind. I don’t think he’s an option right now.”
“Is everything all right there?” Diana asked, before following up with, “Door?”
Nothing happened.
Kimiyo half-shrugged. “He’s been distant. Working on a project for the President. Spending a lot of time with that new guy, that new Blue Beetle. Hey, shouldn’t a door have just opened?”
“It really should have. Door,” Diana repeated.
Still, nothing.
“Are the systems on the blink?” she wondered aloud. {Batman, do you read me?}
And nothing but static across the nanotelepathic link.
“Something’s not right,” she said, her jaw set. She looked down at Harley Quinn, and thoughts began to race through her head. Something wasn’t right at all…
Mister Miracle had vanished up the stairwell after the Mad Hatter, and the Guardian was making a beeline back to his daughter’s room. His sleeves and forearms were cut to ribbons, blood streaking down his arms, all thanks to the scalpels being used to attack him by the mind-controlled staff of the hospital.
He’d found out just as fast as Scott that knocking the hats off their heads wasn’t a sure-fire way to get them back on the side of angels. He therefore resorted to surgical strikes to their heads, hard enough to knock out, but pulled enough to not cause lasting damage. He needed them downed, but not out for good!
Having downed the majority of his attackers, he skidded through the legs of the large orderly who had charged toward him, and then kicked open the door to his daughter’s room. Marjorie was in bed sobbing and not wearing a party hat, but at the open windows of her room were the rest of their family, all wearing their hats, leaning precariously outside.
“No-- don’t--!” shouted James.
There was a shout outside, a similar sentiment coming from Scott Free a number of floors up, but it was too late. They all stepped outside. James reached out, but could do nothing. His grandchildren. His great-grandchildren. They all took the jump outside, obediently following the programming instilled in them by the Mad Hatter’s technology.
But what followed was nothing short of a miracle-- outside, the newly arrived Firestorm crafted dozens upon dozens of slides leading from the numerous windows where people had jumped from, all the way down to the streets below, where their party hats were turned into oxygen and the mind-control technology embedded in their scalps transformed into sterile saline solution, moments before they landed in a pile of large pillows created by the Nuclear Hero.
Harper reached the window just in time to see the majority of the victims land safely-- though some were still sliding down-- while Mister Miracle flew down on his Aero-Discs, his arm looped around an unconscious Mad Hatter’s throat.
“They’re okay,” he whispered, turning to his daughter. “They’re all right!”
Marjorie had passed out from the stress, and the Guardian’s job wasn’t done yet. The door to the room was smashed open, and the still-mind-controlled staff were ready for a fight.
Before another punch could be thrown, Firestorm phased through the molecules of the exterior wall and simply waved her hand, dissolving the mind-control tech into saline.
“Wh-what just happened?” asked one of the orderlies, clutching his aching elbow, where the Guardian had struck him earlier.
Harper fell to his knees. “Oh, God. I thought… I thought…”
Firestorm put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right. No one died.”
“I… I…” but Harper was at a loss for words, and instead scrambled over to where his daughter was laying, utterly exhausted by the series of horrible events of the last few minutes. “I… nearly lost… everything.”
Down in the depths of Laputa was Angela Spica’s lab, full of all the bleeding-edge technology she’d developed in her time as the Justice League’s scientific advisor. They’d not discussed her role in the team since her acquisition of nanite-based superpowers, but right now that didn’t matter.
Thoughts raced through Bruce’s head, and he knew that he needed the best technology at hand to investigate whatever it was that caused Harley’s sudden amped up super-powers. He’d taken a blood sample from her in London and wanted to utilise Angie’s equipment for the best results.
Soon enough, he’d install similar technology in the Cave, but he didn’t mind coming here, especially thanks to the convenience of the Door technology that made it like stepping from one room into another.
Oddly enough, and Bruce intended to look into it when he had the time, when he summoned the Door a few minutes ago from London to Laputa, there was a slight delay before the portal opened. He dismissed it, but the momentary interruption… that wasn’t quite right, was it?
Screens lowered from the modular ceiling of the medical lab. Direct feeds from Arkham Island’s secure medical unit, where Harley was being kept in a medically induced coma after her arrival there with Wonder Woman, were visible. Thanks to the money Wayne Enterprises pumped into Arkham, he had a front row seat to all their goings on, and he wanted to make sure he kept his eye on her while he worked.
The Dark Knight mentally listed the disorders Quinn suffered from, the appraisals from both Arkham and external agencies coalescing in his brain. She suffered from Anti-social, Histrionic and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorders. The main wound on her psyche was the one inflicted by her time interacting with the Joker.
Whatever had amped her up was dangerous, capable of transforming an already super-strong woman riddled with psychiatric disorders into someone who could go toe-to-toe with a god. He waited for the medical scanner to finish its full review of her bloodwork, hoping an answer would come to them sooner rather than later.
Batman felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle up. The Joker. Not seen for some time now, not since the so-called Clown Prince of Crime teamed up with Ra’s Al Ghul in an attempt to kill the Batman. They only half succeeded, and the Joker vanished in the aftermath. Not seen since.
No sightings.
No glimpse of the pale man at night.
No laughter in the darkness.
Not since he attacked Talia Al Ghul on her private jet.
It had been years, and now that name was in his head, and he couldn’t get it out, no matter how hard he tried.
“Focus,” he whispered.
He thought back to an earlier conversation with Spica and tried to remember what she’d said to him about another case they were working on, the apparent stroke-induced death of Aleph Pharmaceutical’s CEO Alejandro Cuetes. There were so many balls in the air. So many plates spinning.
The scanner beeped. Results were in. He looked up at the screen as it displayed the feedback regarding Harley Quinn’s blood sample. Almost immediately a rogue agent was identified, something that caused her immense power-up.
“This can’t be…” he murmured.
And yet it was. Quinn’s blood was full to the brim with nanites. Similar to the ones they’d studied in the aftermath of the Engineer’s defeat a few weeks back. He needed to contact the others at Arkham-- he needed to let them know-- but when he tried to access the nanotelepathic link, there was nothing but static.
Then realisation took hold. He looked at his hands, then touched his face. She’d coughed prior to the worst of the seizures taking her and spat blood into his mouth. “No…”
He wouldn’t have known it, but all the lights on Laputa went out. The experimental medical lab was pitch black for a few seconds, before more monitors descended from the modular ceiling, all sparking static on their screens. The room was illuminated monochrome by the black and white fragmentary pixels crackling before him.
Doors began to close, punctuated by heavy CHUNK CHUNK CHUNK sounds that got louder and louder as the doors closest to the Dark Knight followed the doors furthest away, all sealing, all locking him deeper and deeper inside the belly of Laputa.
And then the screens stopped displaying static, and a familiar face leaned forward toward the camera, and looked down at the Batman as he stood there in abject horror. “Weeeeeeeell! Hello, old chum! It’s been a while, have you missed me?”
And there he was. The horror story without end. The flash of teeth and laughter from the shadows. The one that always went that step further, bit just that bit harder, the one who refused to back down from the edge of the pit, and insisted on dragging you down into the darkness with him…
“…Joker,” whispered Batman.
He immediately went to communicate an emergency to the Justice League, but the nanotelepathy shrieked in his ear and shorted out, causing him to hiss in pain. He reached to his utility belt, where his auxiliary communicator rested, but it fused, and he had to throw it to the ground in case it sent sparks into the magnesium he kept in one of his belt’s other compartments.
“A,” he said, hoping his cowl communication-link with the Cave back in Gotham was still up. It wasn’t.
“And it’s always you, and me, al-ways, and for-everrrr,” the Joker said, in a sing-song voice.
Batman stood in silence, thinking through his options.
“I thought it was time I dropped in and said hello. After all, it looks like you’ve been having a lot of fun without me, and I can’t have that!”
Batman moved to the closest console and began to type in an emergency back-door code, but the entire block of machines shorted. Then the control panels next to the doors. Every system available on Laputa was shorting out and dying, and it led to it being just him, the Dark Knight, alone, surrounded by the face of his worst enemy. His worst nightmare. He whispered “Door,” but when no portal opened, it was obvious he was cut off from the teleportation system as well. He said no more.
“Aww, don’t frown, Bats. It’s clear you’ve found a whole new world of challenges to keep you busy. And I have to admit, so have I! And with all that comes a massive revelation… I don’t need you anymore. And yes! Yes, when you remove a limb, you can sometimes feel it itching until the day you die, but I have to say, I can live with a Bat-sized phantom limb flapping around in my vicinity. I can live with giving you up!”
If the Joker could broadcast directly into the heart of the Justice League’s headquarters, that meant he was in every single system they had available. Teleportation. Communication. Every one of their databases. Batman moved toward the doors, and began to unravel the C4 he kept in his belt. He placed it around the weakest point in the wall, where an explosion would cause the door to fall open. It was one option…
“The thing is… every time you and I play, I lose. I was getting a bit bored of always losing. I thought I’d try this on easy mode for a bit. And it was easy. It was as easy as beating a puppy to death with a kitten. Now, I’m done playing. I haven’t needed you all this time, have I? I went away, did my own thing, and so did you. For this next game, this next act of the sitcom we call life, I’ve decided to do something I’ve never done before. And to be fair, I’ve never wanted to. It seemed so gauche.”
Taking cover behind the indestructible medical scanner situated in the centre of the room, he detonated the explosives, and was given an exit. But it was as he feared-- every door in the corridor was sealed. And he didn’t have enough C4 to destroy every door in Laputa until he was outside. What about the vents?
“You couldn’t help but bring ol’ Harleen’s blood to your little island base, could you? And when you scanned it into your computers, they sent me the signal-- I knew you were there, and I knew you were all by your lonesome. Yup, the nanites I designed did their dirty work all nice and clean. Gotta’ tell you, I’ve been expanding my horizons. Nanomachines are the in-thing right now, or so I’ve heard. That's how I'm in your systems, and I have been for weeks. That's why you can't hear each other nattering in each others' ears, why you can't step-in-time from one place to the other without my say-so. I'm sure you noticed your systems are on the fritz, my darling man?”
Nanotelepathic link down. Doors playing up. How long had the Clown Prince of Crime been planning this? Not just weeks, must have been longer... how long?
“What do you want?” Batman repeated his original question.
He tried another control panel. No luck. All sealed. He glanced up at the nearest ventilation shaft. He pulled a laser from his belt and scoured the grill away, then jumped up-- only to be met by a small energy cannon, one of the island’s defence systems, re-positioned by the modular layout of the floating city to keep him out of it’s veins. A blast of scorching energy caught him in the shoulder and he slipped to the floor, grimacing. They were non-lethal in design, but pushed past tolerances, they could kill.
“It was always supposed to be you and me, forever fighting until one of us dies of old age. I was never going to kill you, Bats. Unless I did, then I would have been cool with it. And heck, sometimes I did think I was going to kill you, but I never meant it. Not really. Nuh-uh. That’s the thing with being insane. Sometimes you think you’re not going to do something when you’re actually doing it already, and I think I’ve had my hands around your throat enough times to know better…”
“And you went and got yourself sidekicks! Little boy hostages for me to have fun with! I thought, ‘what a treat!’, and I had my way with them too, and I didn’t blame you for it, because it must have been so lonely doing what you do without any children to endanger… and then there was the redhead… and the dog… and the cat… and the horses… and I thought, wow, what a collection! What fun! But then you went and did the unthinkable… you did the thing I never thought you’d do. You went and got yourself a super-girlfriend. An actual Wonder Woman. Did I mean so little to you? Am I that much of an afterthought?”
“What do you mean?” Batman said.
“You moved on, Bats. You moved on and she had a great rack and I couldn’t compete, but it still hurt. You could have called, you know? A ‘Dear Joker’ letter or something? You know you could have found me, if you looked hard enough. So, if you’re moving on, so am I. I’m breaking up with you, moving up in the world, and shacking up with someone… someones… bigger and better. I’ve graduated, lover boy. Batman? Small fry. Justice League? Now, that’s more my type. That’s the challenge I want. I’ve been laying the groundwork for this since I pulled myself from the wreckage. I’d love for you to see what’s coming next, but you know what? I think we’ll have to comfort ourselves with the thought that you’ll be dead.”
Laputa shook. Physically rocked on its axis. Batman stumbled back and grabbed one of the shorted-out consoles for support. He heard the noise again, of doors now reopening, CHUNK CHUNK CHUNK, all throughout the island. And then there was an explosion-- muted but loud enough to cause the Dark Knight to wince-- that punctuated the whole thing.
“That was your moon pool, the one in your air-tight hangar, containing all your cool ships and boats and canoes, failing. Water’s getting in, Bats. You’re sinking. This is your tomb. Your entire island headquarters, with you inside, sinking beneath the waves. And if you think this is your opportunity to get out…”
Without warning, Batman was spun around as Laputa careened on its side. He landed on his side, but managed to scramble back to his feet, only for the waters that had started rushing in to become visible at the end of the corridor. The entire weight of the ocean was about to hit him, and he was trapped in the medical bay, with nowhere else to go.
Talia Al Ghul’s words echoed in his mind: “You lose everything. Time and time again. And you will never be happy.”
And then the water rushed in, and the entire world went black.
The Dark Knight had cornered the ringleader of the Red Hood Gang on the walkway above the waste chemical tanks, and instead of the braggadocious, flamboyant criminal mastermind who had slipped through his fingers time and time again, the scarlet helmet-wearing criminal was terrified, hands waving around in abject fright as the Caped Crusader cornered him.
He had begged, pleaded with the vigilante, but in the end the Red Hood had jumped-- or fallen-- or slipped-- and plummeted into the vats below, his entire body submerged in a chemical concoction that should have killed him dead.
But instead… no body was recovered.
And some months later… the Joker debuted, and the rest was history.
JUSTICE LEAGUE
Issue Seventy-Six: “Breaking Up”
HoM / IBARRA / BOWERS
“The Red Hood--!”
It couldn’t have been Jason Todd. The shooter’s build was all wrong, and Bruce knew exactly where his former sidekick was currently operating. This Red Hood was lithe, muscular beneath the tailored suit, but the helmet he wore obscured his actual height. It could be him. It could be the Joker. But why the fanfare?
“I love it when you say my name!” shouted the villain, as he spun his second pistol around his finger before aiming them both akimbo at the pair at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s been a while, Bats.”
The voice was distorted. Could be because of the mask, or it could be some kind of vocoder. Something to disguise the true identity of their attacker.
Didn’t matter. This was an attack. Expertly tailored to weaponise bad memories and past associations. Who could be behind it? Didn’t matter. Focus. That’s all that Batman could do. He raised a batarang and threw it with all his might toward the shooter’s hand, but the distance proved too long, and he signposted his movement-- the batarang was shattered with a single gunshot, and then the barrage continued.
The Dark Knight threw down a smoke pellet and ducked for cover, while the Princess of Themyscira continued to walk forward, displacing the bullets coming her way with simple twists and deflections of her wrists. The Red Hood seemed to notice that nothing he was doing was halting Wonder Woman’s steady walk toward him, so he pulled a grenade from his jacket, went to pull the pin out with his mouth but realised his mask got in the way.
So, instead, Hood fumbled with both guns in his hands and managed to yank the pin out, then threw it at Wonder Woman, who was halfway up the stairs.
Without hesitating, Batman levelled his grapnel gun and fired off a line that latched around the grenade with its clawed prongs and then propelled it back toward Hood, who dove out of the way as it smashed into the wall behind the villain and exploded, sending debris everywhere.
Wonder Woman flew forward, barrelled into the Red Hood, and tackled him to the ground. She hoisted him up by the throat, and then slapped his guns from his hands. Having disarmed him, she began to pry the helmet off his head, saying, “Let’s--”
--Only for the Red Hood to punch her so hard he drew blood and sent her spinning to the bottom of the stairs where the Dark Knight stood.
The Red Hood leaned back and began to laugh-- a hearty, mocking fit of hysterics-- and then shook his gloved finger at the pair below him. “Did you really think it would be that easy?”
ARKHAM ISLAND, GOTHAM CITY:
Financed and built by Wayne Enterprises, Arkham Island was supposed to be an inescapable institute where the mentally-ill denizens of Gotham City could finally get the dedicated help they needed to be rehabilitated. It was also designed to be inescapable, and as of yet, there had been none of the chaotic, explosive jailbreaks that had riddled the history of the old Arkham Asylum.
That was, until now…
Detectives John Jones and Renee Montoya had been summoned after the administrator of the institute, Jeremiah Arkham, couldn’t access the cell of Jervis Tetch, aka the Mad Hatter. With Katar Hol and Kimiyo Hoshi, aka Hawkman and Doctor Light, on hand, the group arrived on Arkham Island, only to find that Tetch was no longer in his cell-- his escape hidden by a holographic projection!
“I don’t like this. Not one bit,” murmured Jones.
“That your famous policeman’s intuition rearing its head?” asked Montoya.
Katar, out of costume and out of his famous patience, said, “Our consultant should be here any-- ”
Emerging from a shimmering orange portal, Angela Spica materialised, her second, silver skin manifested across her body. She looked like she was made of metal, but her appearance was down to the nanomachines that lived inside her. “Hey folks, sorry I’m late,” she said.
“…Another one? Another one of your ‘old friends’, John?” said Montoya.
Ever since John had been stuck in his human form, he’d tried to keep his previous heroic identity as the Martian Manhunter in the past, but with the arrival of not one, but two superheroes on his doorstep, his partner, Montoya, was beginning to get suspicious. And who could blame her?
“Uh, am I intruding on something?” Angie asked.
John shook his head. “No, but--”
“And how do you know Detective Jones?” said Renee.
“Not… particularly… well?” Angie answered, honestly.
“Oh. You’re an open book, aren’t you?” replied Renee.
“I mean, I don’t like lying, if that’s what you’re saying?”
Katar shook his head. “Can we focus on the matter at hand? Here are the cliff notes: Arkham Island is on lockdown and Batman is trusting us to deal with this. Mad Hatter is out of his cell, and we have no idea where he is. The door was fused, and a hologram was used to trick those who might check in on him.”
“Okay, can you all step out? I want to try something,” said Angie.
Those present did as they were told, and Angie extended her hands and sent out an invisible fleet of nanites into the air. A full diagnostic was run on the cell, feeding information into her technologically enhanced mind. She was plugged into every nanomachine in her body and now out, and it allowed her to be a walking forensics lab.
The first thing she identified was the microscopic holographic projector embedded on the wall above the plastic mirror next to the sink. She pulled it out from its hiding place with a wave of her hand, and then sent threads of connective wires from her palm into the available sockets.
“There’s our projector then,” said Kimiyo.
“I’ll be right back. Montoya, do you want to join me?” said Katar, heading toward the control booth that Jeremiah had vanished into. Renee did as instructed, happy to follow this weirdness as far down the rabbit hole as it would allow.
“It’s been active for a week. What happened a week ago?” asked Angie.
“Lawyer!” shouted Katar from the control booth. “He met with his lawyer a week ago!”
HUDSON UNIVERSITY, NEW YORK:
Lorraine Reilly’s head was spinning. Moments ago, Martin Stein, her partner in the Firestorm Matrix, had informed her that her appendix was growing back, after it had burst and been removed in her youth. That was weird. And Stein’s donated kidney, long absent from his body, had started to regenerate as well. The implications were massive. Medical research, transplant science, the healing benefits of the Firestorm Matrix… that was mind-blowing.
“I need to perform more tests, of course, but this is-- ” Stein was interrupted by his cellphone, buzzing loudly on his oak desk. “Let me get this, and then we’ll figure it out, all right?”
“I mean… sure…” replied Lorraine.
“Doctor Gray, I was just--” he started, but then the voice on the other side of the conversation started to talk hurriedly, and he listened intently. “Your colleague says what?”
Lorraine was pulled from her spinning head by Martin’s tone of voice. “Professor…?”
Linda Gray was one of the leads at S.T.A.R. Labs New York, and Lorraine and Martin had entered her orbit after Ronnie Raymond-- the previous Firestorm-- had fallen into a coma after a catastrophic medical episode. Martin had known her when he was younger, but while he had gone into academia, she’d worked her way up in the private sector. If she was calling…
“And… and Ronald is all right? Okay. Okay, of course! We’ll get right on it!”
“Something weird is going on at Belmont, uptown. Everyone’s acting very strangely, and S.T.A.R. had a man on site, who was able to call it in.”
“Isn’t that where the Guardian is?” asked Lorraine.
“Yes! My word…” {Guardian! This is Martin Stein! Do you read me?}
Nothing but static. Lorraine asked, “Any luck?”
“Some kind of interference. We need to get there, quickly!”
Lorraine held out her hand, and Martin reached out and clasped it. Their bodies spun together and melded into one, the pair transforming into Firestorm within a heartbeat. “Door!” said Lorraine, but nothing opened. “Door!” she repeated, but no luck. “What is going on!?”
{The failure in both of the Justice League’s main systems cannot be a coincidence. We’ll have to fly there!} said Stein, his voice echoing in her head now that they were combined into their elemental identity.
PARK ROW DISTRICT, GOTHAM CITY:
“You sure this is the right address?” Montoya asked, looking at the scrap of paper Jones was holding, then back up at the looming, ugly structure that they’d arrived in front of moments earlier. They were situated in one of the roughest parts of town, the kind of parts that would usually be punctuated by burning trashcans in the right kind of post-apocalyptic movie. This was where they needed to be, and they didn’t like it one bit.
Jones double-checked and then nodded. “Anchorage House, home of Cecil Liebowitz, attorney-at-law and a junior partner at Sterling & Harris.”
“And this doesn’t strike you as weird?” asked Renee, gesturing at the dilapidated structure all around them.
“An attorney living in Park Row? Don’t they get paid more?”
“Yup. Especially the rats at Sterling & Harris.”
“Especially.”
Montoya rang the buzzer and waited. When there came no response, she pressed every button for every apartment in one sweeping movement and waited even longer, until someone buzzed her in. “Gotham City magic,” she said, opening the door when it unlocked.
“We don’t have a warrant,” said Jones.
“Not yet we don’t. DA is working on it now. Chasing down a judge as we speak. So, you wanna wait, or should we meet them halfway?”
“You’re a terrible influence,” said Jones.
The building’s elevator was out of order, and Liebowitz’s apartment was on the top floor, so the pair rambled upstairs. They knocked on his front door, waited, knocked again, waited even longer, and then when Montoya’s phone buzzed to alert them a warrant had been secured, John’s shoulder did the rest.
“Oh, holy crap,” whispered Montoya, as they came face-to-face with the dead body of Jervis Tetch’s lawyer, Cecil Liebowitz. He was sat in his underwear, wearing nothing but a pair of briefs and a party hat, his chest slaked with dried blood that had poured out of the gaping wound in his throat.
“He’s been dead for days,” said Jones, not bothered by the stench of decomposition that had hit them hard in the nostrils upon entry. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and lifted off the man’s party hat and saw that it was lined with the same mind-control technology they’d read about on the way over - Mad Hatter’s.
“This isn’t right,” said Montoya, as she turned to call the crime scene in.
“The wound was self-inflicted,” said Jones, pointing at the butcher’s knife sat on the floor where it had fallen from the victim’s hand. “Have any of Tetch’s victims killed themselves before?”
“No, I read that the technology can’t push someone to do that. If he’s figured out a way to break that limitation…”
“This is bad,” said Jones.
“…Really bad,” agreed Montoya.
POSEIDONIS, UNDER THE SEA:
At Mera’s beckoning, Zealot stepped through the portal and arrived in the oxygen dome of Poseidonis’ royal palace and was instantly amazed by the majesty of the sights. They’d spent the first part of the day touring New Khera, the colony established by the surviving members of the Kherubim race, and then some time later exploring Laputa, the Justice League’s island headquarters. This was the third stop on their agenda, and it was jaw-dropping for Zealot to experience.
“By Hecate…” she whispered.
The dome was transparent, and you could see the entirety of the capital city from the vantage point. The spiralling towers, the water-breathing denizens of the kingdom going about their days, the patrols of bio-shock staff-wielding armed guards… this was the crown jewel of the seven seas, and it was a wonder to behold.
“This… is yours?” Zealot asked.
“Yes,” replied Mera.
“It’s amazing… there’s… there was nothing like this on Khera,” said Zealot.
They stood on a metal walkway, ancient but in pristine condition, that led to numerous portals that held back the might of the ocean. You could walk from this refuge for surface dwellers into the submerged sections of the kingdom with ease, if you wanted to. Beneath them was the immense library of Atlantis, once lost but pieced together by numerous rulers prior to Orin’s ascension to the throne.
“If you want to be part of the world, this is an aspect that few have been privy to. We’ve made numerous attempts to become a larger part of the surface world’s running but have been held back by the machinations of enemies both under the sea and above. But we’re recognised by the United Nations and hope to start an outreach program that connects the surface to the seas.”
“What does that have to do with the Kherubim?”
“Well. We have alliances with Themyscira, another kingdom that does not conform to the expectations of the above-water nations. There is a fear of the unknown that haunts the governments of the world. Islands of warrior women who don’t conform to the same values as the rest of the world. United undersea nations that cover more of the Earth than any one country combined… and now a race of alien titans has landed on their northern point and want nothing but peace… those are the kinds of things that rankle the elites of the world.”
“And what do you propose?” Zealot asked, gripping the handrail and looking up at the undersea sights that surrounded them.
“We are stronger united than we are apart, and that goes beyond the three of us, Diana’s people included. We propose a compact between nations. You would have the overt support of the united kingdoms of Atlantis, and you know Diana will support you in anyway you need in your efforts to be recognised on the world stage. This is not an ultimatum, Zannah. You would have our support regardless… but we wish to stride out into the world’s theatre. To bring our culture to the widest reaches of Earth.”
“You say we already scare them… won’t this do more harm than good?”
“An alliance of nations should send a positive message out into the world,” said Aquaman, emerging from one of the portals nearby.
Zannah watched as every molecule of water was drawn back into the membrane of the gateway, and he emerged completely dry. He was holding a young child on his shoulder, who shared a shock of blond hair with the king.
“This is our son, Arthur Jr,” said Mera, taking their toddler from Orin’s shoulder. “He’s the reason we do everything we do. Our commitment to a better future is to ensure it for him, and those like him.”
“An alliance…” murmured Zannah.
BELMONT / PRESBYTERIAN HOSPITAL, NEW YORK:
First things first. Mister Miracle knocked hats off those who attacked him, hoping that they would keel over, or at least come to their senses. Instead, he saw that the strips of mind control technology inside the party hats had partially fused to the skin of those infected, a veritable crown of brainwashing tech that refused to turn off when the hats were discarded.
Scott Free was never the strongest of his New God kin. But he was smart and fast, and while Himon was smarter and Fastbak faster, he knew what to do with his skillset to perfection. He sent darting palm strikes into the wrists and elbow joints of those attacking him, enough to knock the weapons out of their hands, and then he hopped over their heads and continued to chase after the Mad Hatter, who had headed for the stairwell.
Scott threw himself through the door and skidded to a stop against the bars of the banister, then rolled backwards and hooked his cape around the door handle so no one could unlatch it and follow after him. He looked down toward the bottom staircases, then up to see Tetch scrambling up toward the roof.
“Not gonna get away from me,” Scott mumbled. He hopped onto his Aero-Discs and then shot upwards, ascending in the middle section of the stairs, until he reached the roof access door, which Tetch had just vanished through.
Mister Miracle, sans cape, somersaulted onto the roof, and watched as the Mad Hatter stood on the edge of the building, a thick grin on the lunatic’s face. “What’s this all about, Tetch? Revenge for the Guardian showing you up all those months ago?”
“Revenge? Oh, that sounds sickly sweet and so out of character for the likes of me. No, no, no, I did this because I was asked to for an old friend. And because it’s fun.” He gestured below him. “Care for a trip?”
Mister Miracle grimaced. What game was the Mad Hatter playing? No matter. He approached cautiously. He tried accessing the nanotelepathic link now that he was outside but still no luck. He took a step forward, and without any resistance punched Tetch hard in the face, knocking his hat off his head and his wits out of his brain.
The villain crumpled, and then Mister Miracle realised why Tetch had been so nonchalant-- below him, on all the balconies and from the open windows, men, women and children wearing party hats were all standing precariously close to their respective edges. And with the Mad Hatter now unconscious-- they all took a step forward--
“No-- !” shouted Miracle--
OPPOSITE THEMYSCIRA HOUSE, LONDON:
Dazed, Diana looked up at Bruce with wide eyes, completely confused by what had just transpired. “H-he hits hard.”
Batman’s eyes turned to slits. How was that possible?
He looked back up at the Red Hood, who was casually making his way down the stairs. “It’s been so long. Too long.”
“You’re not him,” whispered Batman.
“Who’s to say who I am?” said the Red Hood. “Am I me or are you you or are we what we aren’t?”
“No. You’re not him. I can tell. In fact… you’re not even a ‘him’, are you?”
“Did you just assume my gender?” hissed the Red Hood.
Batman dove forward, hopped over the Red Hood, and unclasped his black cape at the last moment so it descended upon his opponent’s head. Blinded instantly and flailing her arms wildly, the Red Hood was instantly at a disadvantage.
Landing silently, Batman threw sharp punches into the Hood’s kidneys, causing the villain to double over, and he ducked suddenly when a wild elbow was thrown by the villain. Another rabbit punch landed in the villain’s armpit, and another straight into her crimson mask, hidden by the cape. Something shattered, but Batman continued to throw punches, each one designed to debilitate.
“No. No no no. This isn't happening,” whispered the Red Hood.
Batman froze, mid-punch. Memories from the early days. The Ace Chemicals Processing Plant. The Red Hood falling into a vat of--
A punch connected with the Dark Knight’s chest, sending him flying backwards. He crumpled, his armour working overtime to keep his sternum from shattering, and he knew first hand that Diana wasn’t lying when she said the Hood hit hard.
The Red Hood slowly walked toward where Batman had fallen, pulling away the cape that clung to the villain’s helmet. “Oh, Dear God, what have you sent to punish me?”
“You’re not him,” growled Batman, trying to stand, but his knees buckling as he made it halfway up.
The Red Hood continued to hiss. “Don't come closer! Don't come any closer, or I'll...’”
“Or you’ll do what?” shouted Wonder Woman.
Instantly, her lasso looped around the Red Hood’s torso and arms and she yanked it hard, allowing no slack for the villain to escape, then whipped it up with such force that it sent their opponent spinning up into the air.
With another yank, the villain came crashing down into the ground, the concrete dissolving on impact. She followed the villain down, pinned the villain’s shoulders down with her knees, and then smashed her fists into the remains of the helmet, until it was nothing but debris.
“You’re not the Joker,” said Diana, realising now who’d attacked them.
Her identity revealed, Harley Quinn grinned through broken teeth and the hamburger mush that her face had become under the force of the beating from both Batman and Wonder Woman.
“I-- I-- this-- this wasn’t me.” Her voice was different. Undistorted. “I-- I can’t control--” She raged against Diana’s pin, and her shoulders popped and strained under the effort. Her legs kicked out, trying to gain purchase, but she couldn’t escape. “It-- it-- it’s gonna get bad-- he’s gonna--#"
Quinn cried out as her body was wracked with a terrifying seizure that caused her eyes to roll up into the back of her head, and for blood and foam to gargle up from her throat and out of her mouth.
“Is it him? Is he coming back?” barked Batman, pulling himself over to where the two women were situated.
Harley couldn’t answer. She was shaking uncontrollably, and with one final cough-- a spray of blood leaving her lips that caught Batman in the face-- she passed out.
“No no no,” growled Batman. “What was this… what was all of this…?”
“Are you all right?” asked Wonder Woman.
“It has to be him. He’s coming back. This is just… just a warning shot. He wants us to know,” said Batman.
“It’s okay. We stopped her. And we’ll stop whatever comes next.”
He looked over Diana, who was sporting a dark bruise under her right eye where Harley had connected earlier. “She doesn’t normally hit that hard. Even with the formula Poison Ivy slipped her a few years back, she’s never been that strong.”
He gently brushed his fingers against her face then returned to glowering at Harley. “We need to get her secure. And I want to analyse her blood.”
“Go. I’ll take care of Quinn,” said Diana.
“Are you sure? We can…”
“Go. We’ll solve this mystery. And face whatever comes of it together,” she replied, kissing him on the cheek.
ARKHAM ISLAND, GOTHAM CITY:
“This is outrageous-- not even the GCPD has the right to do what you’re doing!” complained Jeremiah
Kimiyo shook her head. “I have to be honest with you, Doctor. The fact that you don’t do proper bed checks means the Mad Hatter has been running free for a week. So now, we’re having to check every single door, and personally inspect every single inmate, to make sure there aren’t any more holographic emitters installed to keep you in the dark.”
Arkham shook his head. “This isn’t a normal hospital! The patients here have special needs that we have to enforce, or their treatment falls down at the first hurdle!”
Angie wiped her hands as the nanites she’d projected throughout the building returned to their home in her body. “Good news? My nanite net can’t detect any more holographic emitters in any of the cells. None of the cell doors are fused, and all the inmates are present and accounted for. I didn’t know a hospital could smell so bad, but here we are.”
<Doctor Arkham, you won’t believe this--> came the rustling voice from his radio.
“What is it now?”
<Wonder Woman just walked into patient intake with Harleen Quinzel!>
“W-what?!” Jeremiah looked frazzled for a moment, before he rushed away from the heroes.
“I can’t even tell if this is out of the norm for any given day on Arkham Island,” said Angie.
“C’mon, let’s see what Diana’s been up to today,” replied Kimiyo.
Back in the control hub at the end of the corridor that held the most severe patients, Katar was looking through their computer records for anything else unsavoury, ignoring the Arkham guard standing behind him. The Hawk Knight’s phone rang, and he picked it up when he saw it was John. “What’ve you found?” he asked.
<Liebowitz is dead. Self-inflicted knife wound to the throat. He died wearing Mad Hatter tech.>
“Seven Hells… and Mad Hatter wasn’t his firm’s only client. All the court-appointed lawyers and private firms kept by Arkham inmates were fired over the last year or so, and replaced by representatives from Sterling & Harris.”
<What do we know about them?>
“That’s the thing. I just checked the database. Their biggest client is Aleph Pharma.”
<Didn’t their CEO die a few weeks ago? At a charity gala*?>
*Back in Justice League Annual 2018, “The Little Things”
“You’re damn right. I don’t think this is an isolated thing. I think we need to take this to their new CEO, Malik Swain.”
<Are you okay over there? We need to work the scene here, but keep me posted, all right?>
“Of course,” said Katar.
Angie popped her head into the control room. “Hey, Doctor Light is headed upstairs to meet up with the princess. Apparently, Harley Quinn made an appearance in London and threw down with Wonder Woman and Batman.”
“That’s… strange…” said Katar.
“Yeah, and so’s this,” said Angie. She took a seat next to Katar and flexed her fingers, threads of nanites unspooling from the tips of her digits and spinning into the Arkham computers. Rows of code began to appear on the computer screen. Nothing that made sense to the half-Thanagarian, but Angie pointed at a line of coding language that had caught her attention. “That shouldn’t be there.”
“What is it?”
“Some kind of rogue coding in the security protocols. Hey, have you ever heard of the ‘Code Red Worm’?”
“Why would you ask me a question like that?” asked Katar.
Angie managed a smile. Why would she think to ask him a question like that? She always appreciated Katar’s honesty. “Nearly two decades ago, a malware program designed to attack computers running Microsoft's IIS web server was discovered. It was designed very specifically to only affect that software, you follow? Nothing else was infected.”
Katar shrugged. “Assume I do.”
“This is something very similar. It specifically infected the Arkham security protocols after a Wayne Technology patch went live earlier this year. The patch included the vulnerability, but it was keyed to only get into the Arkham-specific servers.”
“Earlier this year… how long has it been in the computers?” asked Katar.
“About eight months,” replied Angie.
“Any time near…” Katar checked the notes he’d taken and then looked back at Angie. “…October 14th, last year?”
“From what I’ve unpicked, the patch went live the day before! Why?”
“That was when the first Sterling & Harris lawyer was hired by an Arkham inmate.”
“I really don’t like this, Katar,” said Angie.
“Me neither,” said the guard standing behind them, before realising he wasn’t supposed to be part of their conversation.
MEANWHILE, UPSTAIRS…
“Oh, my… are you all right?” asked Doctor Light, approaching Wonder Woman.
The princess turned, her eye swollen and the right side of her face a black and blue mess of contusions. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” said Kimiyo, concern etched across her features.
Diana smiled. “I’ve been in worse fights. And we won this one.”
She gestured down through the observation screens set up below them, to where Harley Quinn was being strapped to a table and bloods being drawn.
“Harley Quinn did that?”
“She wasn’t in her right mind, and her strength was augmented somehow,” noted Diana.
“I’ll, ah, I'll look at the test results when they’re generated, see what I can find.”
“...It’s good to have you back, Doctor,” said Diana.
“I just wish the circumstances were better.”
Wonder Woman laughed quietly. “You and me both. Say, has anyone reported issues with the Door systems? There was a delay in the portal opening when I called for one in London. I saw the look on Batman’s face, and you know he’s going to start asking questions.”
“Nothing reported, but then again, I’m kinda out of the loop,” admitted Doctor Light. “Maybe I could call Ted? But then again, he’s not exactly… well. Nevermind. I don’t think he’s an option right now.”
“Is everything all right there?” Diana asked, before following up with, “Door?”
Nothing happened.
Kimiyo half-shrugged. “He’s been distant. Working on a project for the President. Spending a lot of time with that new guy, that new Blue Beetle. Hey, shouldn’t a door have just opened?”
“It really should have. Door,” Diana repeated.
Still, nothing.
“Are the systems on the blink?” she wondered aloud. {Batman, do you read me?}
And nothing but static across the nanotelepathic link.
“Something’s not right,” she said, her jaw set. She looked down at Harley Quinn, and thoughts began to race through her head. Something wasn’t right at all…
BELMONT / PRESBYTERIAN HOSPITAL, NEW YORK:
Mister Miracle had vanished up the stairwell after the Mad Hatter, and the Guardian was making a beeline back to his daughter’s room. His sleeves and forearms were cut to ribbons, blood streaking down his arms, all thanks to the scalpels being used to attack him by the mind-controlled staff of the hospital.
He’d found out just as fast as Scott that knocking the hats off their heads wasn’t a sure-fire way to get them back on the side of angels. He therefore resorted to surgical strikes to their heads, hard enough to knock out, but pulled enough to not cause lasting damage. He needed them downed, but not out for good!
Having downed the majority of his attackers, he skidded through the legs of the large orderly who had charged toward him, and then kicked open the door to his daughter’s room. Marjorie was in bed sobbing and not wearing a party hat, but at the open windows of her room were the rest of their family, all wearing their hats, leaning precariously outside.
“No-- don’t--!” shouted James.
There was a shout outside, a similar sentiment coming from Scott Free a number of floors up, but it was too late. They all stepped outside. James reached out, but could do nothing. His grandchildren. His great-grandchildren. They all took the jump outside, obediently following the programming instilled in them by the Mad Hatter’s technology.
MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE…
But what followed was nothing short of a miracle-- outside, the newly arrived Firestorm crafted dozens upon dozens of slides leading from the numerous windows where people had jumped from, all the way down to the streets below, where their party hats were turned into oxygen and the mind-control technology embedded in their scalps transformed into sterile saline solution, moments before they landed in a pile of large pillows created by the Nuclear Hero.
Harper reached the window just in time to see the majority of the victims land safely-- though some were still sliding down-- while Mister Miracle flew down on his Aero-Discs, his arm looped around an unconscious Mad Hatter’s throat.
“They’re okay,” he whispered, turning to his daughter. “They’re all right!”
Marjorie had passed out from the stress, and the Guardian’s job wasn’t done yet. The door to the room was smashed open, and the still-mind-controlled staff were ready for a fight.
Before another punch could be thrown, Firestorm phased through the molecules of the exterior wall and simply waved her hand, dissolving the mind-control tech into saline.
“Wh-what just happened?” asked one of the orderlies, clutching his aching elbow, where the Guardian had struck him earlier.
Harper fell to his knees. “Oh, God. I thought… I thought…”
Firestorm put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right. No one died.”
“I… I…” but Harper was at a loss for words, and instead scrambled over to where his daughter was laying, utterly exhausted by the series of horrible events of the last few minutes. “I… nearly lost… everything.”
LAPUTA, PACIFIC OCEAN:
Down in the depths of Laputa was Angela Spica’s lab, full of all the bleeding-edge technology she’d developed in her time as the Justice League’s scientific advisor. They’d not discussed her role in the team since her acquisition of nanite-based superpowers, but right now that didn’t matter.
Thoughts raced through Bruce’s head, and he knew that he needed the best technology at hand to investigate whatever it was that caused Harley’s sudden amped up super-powers. He’d taken a blood sample from her in London and wanted to utilise Angie’s equipment for the best results.
Soon enough, he’d install similar technology in the Cave, but he didn’t mind coming here, especially thanks to the convenience of the Door technology that made it like stepping from one room into another.
Oddly enough, and Bruce intended to look into it when he had the time, when he summoned the Door a few minutes ago from London to Laputa, there was a slight delay before the portal opened. He dismissed it, but the momentary interruption… that wasn’t quite right, was it?
Screens lowered from the modular ceiling of the medical lab. Direct feeds from Arkham Island’s secure medical unit, where Harley was being kept in a medically induced coma after her arrival there with Wonder Woman, were visible. Thanks to the money Wayne Enterprises pumped into Arkham, he had a front row seat to all their goings on, and he wanted to make sure he kept his eye on her while he worked.
The Dark Knight mentally listed the disorders Quinn suffered from, the appraisals from both Arkham and external agencies coalescing in his brain. She suffered from Anti-social, Histrionic and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorders. The main wound on her psyche was the one inflicted by her time interacting with the Joker.
Whatever had amped her up was dangerous, capable of transforming an already super-strong woman riddled with psychiatric disorders into someone who could go toe-to-toe with a god. He waited for the medical scanner to finish its full review of her bloodwork, hoping an answer would come to them sooner rather than later.
Batman felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle up. The Joker. Not seen for some time now, not since the so-called Clown Prince of Crime teamed up with Ra’s Al Ghul in an attempt to kill the Batman. They only half succeeded, and the Joker vanished in the aftermath. Not seen since.
No sightings.
No glimpse of the pale man at night.
No laughter in the darkness.
Not since he attacked Talia Al Ghul on her private jet.
It had been years, and now that name was in his head, and he couldn’t get it out, no matter how hard he tried.
“Focus,” he whispered.
He thought back to an earlier conversation with Spica and tried to remember what she’d said to him about another case they were working on, the apparent stroke-induced death of Aleph Pharmaceutical’s CEO Alejandro Cuetes. There were so many balls in the air. So many plates spinning.
The scanner beeped. Results were in. He looked up at the screen as it displayed the feedback regarding Harley Quinn’s blood sample. Almost immediately a rogue agent was identified, something that caused her immense power-up.
“This can’t be…” he murmured.
And yet it was. Quinn’s blood was full to the brim with nanites. Similar to the ones they’d studied in the aftermath of the Engineer’s defeat a few weeks back. He needed to contact the others at Arkham-- he needed to let them know-- but when he tried to access the nanotelepathic link, there was nothing but static.
Then realisation took hold. He looked at his hands, then touched his face. She’d coughed prior to the worst of the seizures taking her and spat blood into his mouth. “No…”
He wouldn’t have known it, but all the lights on Laputa went out. The experimental medical lab was pitch black for a few seconds, before more monitors descended from the modular ceiling, all sparking static on their screens. The room was illuminated monochrome by the black and white fragmentary pixels crackling before him.
Doors began to close, punctuated by heavy CHUNK CHUNK CHUNK sounds that got louder and louder as the doors closest to the Dark Knight followed the doors furthest away, all sealing, all locking him deeper and deeper inside the belly of Laputa.
And then the screens stopped displaying static, and a familiar face leaned forward toward the camera, and looked down at the Batman as he stood there in abject horror. “Weeeeeeeell! Hello, old chum! It’s been a while, have you missed me?”
And there he was. The horror story without end. The flash of teeth and laughter from the shadows. The one that always went that step further, bit just that bit harder, the one who refused to back down from the edge of the pit, and insisted on dragging you down into the darkness with him…
“…Joker,” whispered Batman.
He immediately went to communicate an emergency to the Justice League, but the nanotelepathy shrieked in his ear and shorted out, causing him to hiss in pain. He reached to his utility belt, where his auxiliary communicator rested, but it fused, and he had to throw it to the ground in case it sent sparks into the magnesium he kept in one of his belt’s other compartments.
“A,” he said, hoping his cowl communication-link with the Cave back in Gotham was still up. It wasn’t.
“And it’s always you, and me, al-ways, and for-everrrr,” the Joker said, in a sing-song voice.
Batman stood in silence, thinking through his options.
“I thought it was time I dropped in and said hello. After all, it looks like you’ve been having a lot of fun without me, and I can’t have that!”
Batman moved to the closest console and began to type in an emergency back-door code, but the entire block of machines shorted. Then the control panels next to the doors. Every system available on Laputa was shorting out and dying, and it led to it being just him, the Dark Knight, alone, surrounded by the face of his worst enemy. His worst nightmare. He whispered “Door,” but when no portal opened, it was obvious he was cut off from the teleportation system as well. He said no more.
“Aww, don’t frown, Bats. It’s clear you’ve found a whole new world of challenges to keep you busy. And I have to admit, so have I! And with all that comes a massive revelation… I don’t need you anymore. And yes! Yes, when you remove a limb, you can sometimes feel it itching until the day you die, but I have to say, I can live with a Bat-sized phantom limb flapping around in my vicinity. I can live with giving you up!”
If the Joker could broadcast directly into the heart of the Justice League’s headquarters, that meant he was in every single system they had available. Teleportation. Communication. Every one of their databases. Batman moved toward the doors, and began to unravel the C4 he kept in his belt. He placed it around the weakest point in the wall, where an explosion would cause the door to fall open. It was one option…
“The thing is… every time you and I play, I lose. I was getting a bit bored of always losing. I thought I’d try this on easy mode for a bit. And it was easy. It was as easy as beating a puppy to death with a kitten. Now, I’m done playing. I haven’t needed you all this time, have I? I went away, did my own thing, and so did you. For this next game, this next act of the sitcom we call life, I’ve decided to do something I’ve never done before. And to be fair, I’ve never wanted to. It seemed so gauche.”
Taking cover behind the indestructible medical scanner situated in the centre of the room, he detonated the explosives, and was given an exit. But it was as he feared-- every door in the corridor was sealed. And he didn’t have enough C4 to destroy every door in Laputa until he was outside. What about the vents?
“You couldn’t help but bring ol’ Harleen’s blood to your little island base, could you? And when you scanned it into your computers, they sent me the signal-- I knew you were there, and I knew you were all by your lonesome. Yup, the nanites I designed did their dirty work all nice and clean. Gotta’ tell you, I’ve been expanding my horizons. Nanomachines are the in-thing right now, or so I’ve heard. That's how I'm in your systems, and I have been for weeks. That's why you can't hear each other nattering in each others' ears, why you can't step-in-time from one place to the other without my say-so. I'm sure you noticed your systems are on the fritz, my darling man?”
Nanotelepathic link down. Doors playing up. How long had the Clown Prince of Crime been planning this? Not just weeks, must have been longer... how long?
“What do you want?” Batman repeated his original question.
He tried another control panel. No luck. All sealed. He glanced up at the nearest ventilation shaft. He pulled a laser from his belt and scoured the grill away, then jumped up-- only to be met by a small energy cannon, one of the island’s defence systems, re-positioned by the modular layout of the floating city to keep him out of it’s veins. A blast of scorching energy caught him in the shoulder and he slipped to the floor, grimacing. They were non-lethal in design, but pushed past tolerances, they could kill.
“It was always supposed to be you and me, forever fighting until one of us dies of old age. I was never going to kill you, Bats. Unless I did, then I would have been cool with it. And heck, sometimes I did think I was going to kill you, but I never meant it. Not really. Nuh-uh. That’s the thing with being insane. Sometimes you think you’re not going to do something when you’re actually doing it already, and I think I’ve had my hands around your throat enough times to know better…”
“And you went and got yourself sidekicks! Little boy hostages for me to have fun with! I thought, ‘what a treat!’, and I had my way with them too, and I didn’t blame you for it, because it must have been so lonely doing what you do without any children to endanger… and then there was the redhead… and the dog… and the cat… and the horses… and I thought, wow, what a collection! What fun! But then you went and did the unthinkable… you did the thing I never thought you’d do. You went and got yourself a super-girlfriend. An actual Wonder Woman. Did I mean so little to you? Am I that much of an afterthought?”
“What do you mean?” Batman said.
“You moved on, Bats. You moved on and she had a great rack and I couldn’t compete, but it still hurt. You could have called, you know? A ‘Dear Joker’ letter or something? You know you could have found me, if you looked hard enough. So, if you’re moving on, so am I. I’m breaking up with you, moving up in the world, and shacking up with someone… someones… bigger and better. I’ve graduated, lover boy. Batman? Small fry. Justice League? Now, that’s more my type. That’s the challenge I want. I’ve been laying the groundwork for this since I pulled myself from the wreckage. I’d love for you to see what’s coming next, but you know what? I think we’ll have to comfort ourselves with the thought that you’ll be dead.”
Laputa shook. Physically rocked on its axis. Batman stumbled back and grabbed one of the shorted-out consoles for support. He heard the noise again, of doors now reopening, CHUNK CHUNK CHUNK, all throughout the island. And then there was an explosion-- muted but loud enough to cause the Dark Knight to wince-- that punctuated the whole thing.
“That was your moon pool, the one in your air-tight hangar, containing all your cool ships and boats and canoes, failing. Water’s getting in, Bats. You’re sinking. This is your tomb. Your entire island headquarters, with you inside, sinking beneath the waves. And if you think this is your opportunity to get out…”
Without warning, Batman was spun around as Laputa careened on its side. He landed on his side, but managed to scramble back to his feet, only for the waters that had started rushing in to become visible at the end of the corridor. The entire weight of the ocean was about to hit him, and he was trapped in the medical bay, with nowhere else to go.
Talia Al Ghul’s words echoed in his mind: “You lose everything. Time and time again. And you will never be happy.”
And then the water rushed in, and the entire world went black.