|
|
Post by arcalian on Dec 23, 2009 0:32:05 GMT -5
The world of superheroes mourned for the loss of one it’s greatest. The supermen and the superwomen gathered in Valhalla, resting place of their fallen, and stared at the grave. It rained, of course, as it always does when the good fall. Like a higher power’s acknowledgment of the fallen one’s passing, a silent salute met by godly tears.
“He cared more than anyone knew,” whispered Wonder Woman, “and he didn’t want anyone to know it.”
Superman rested a hand on her shoulder, “But we did. We all knew the truth.”
Green Lantern nodded, “Because in all honesty,” he started, “Why else would he throw himself into the fight every night?”
Batman was dead. They had the body. They ran autopsies. They ran tests. It was him. Dead. Lying in that casket. Cause of death? A single gun shot through the heart. How? They were trying to figure that out right now. Superman was running calculations through his head. Wonder Woman thought: ‘How could you kill the Batman?’ and answered her question a dozen times over. Green Lantern’s ring analysed the scene of the crime by remote. And, behind them, stood a legion of heroes.
The cliques were obvious. The original Teen Titans stuck together (Nightwing’s absence notable), the former-Young Justice crowd too lingered together. The Outsiders, behind them. The Justice Society of America bordered the gathered, like a protective shield. The League, they too stood together in their groups. Gypsy, Martian Manhunter, Steel, Vixen, their League. Fire, Rocket Red, Mary Marvel, Guy Gardner, theirs too. But beyond them, standing away from the grave, on a hill, just out of sight, stood others. Others known to them. Others also notable by their absence,
“There are pieces missing,” mumbled the Question. “Jigsaw pieces missing and shouting out to be found.”
“You don’t kill the Batman,” nodded Green Arrow. “Not Bruce Wayne.”
“It’s a mystery,” agreed Blue Beetle. “And I think we know what that means.”
|
|
|
|
Post by arcalian on Dec 23, 2009 0:32:42 GMT -5
 Elseworlds - Justice League of America: RevolutionsIssue One: The FallenPart One (of Two): " Funerals" Written by House Of Mystery From a story by House Of Mystery & Chris Paugh Cover by Alex Vasquez Edited by Jay McIntyre The shadowed individuals sat around their large table, talking in hushed tones. “They suspect,” barked one. “How could they? The evidence is insurmountable. The cause of death clear. A lucky shot fired at the right time, at the right moment,” whispered another. “They have a killer,” mumbled a third. “Clear cut. J’onn J’onzz did his mind probes. Hal Jordan his ring-scan. He did it.” “Harvey Dent killed Batman,” finished a fourth, female voice. |
|
|
|
Post by arcalian on Dec 23, 2009 0:37:52 GMT -5
The Watchtower was silent. Superman, Green Lantern, the Flash, Wonder Woman, Aquaman and the Manhunter from Mars stood by their chairs without a word, none sitting down. “What now.”
Hal Jordan turned to Wally West. “We should honour him. Bring Nightwing into the fold. If he wants to be, that is. You’re his friend, Wally, I don’t want to be so--”
“Not what I meant,” snapped the Flash.
Hal fell silent, “I know.”
Batman’s seat was empty. They hadn’t yet moved it. Should they? It stood as a reminder to them. Of their failings. Superman gripped his own seat between trembling fingers. “I should have heard him. Listened for him. Heard the gun shot. God knows I could have saved him. God knows.” Metal creaked beneath his finger tips.
“Don’t,” snapped Diana. “We can’t complicate this. Bruce is dead, Clark. The best of us. You don’t get to second guess yourself when you didn’t have anything to do with it. You aren’t God.”
“It has been a month. He died a month ago, and we have not stopped since. The funeral was the first chance to catch our breaths. And now, in that calm, we are questioning ourselves. We cannot do that, friends. We cannot.” J’onn J’onzz sat in his seat, and rested his chin on his fingers.
“Did you know they haven’t opened Crime Alley since they found the body?”
“I heard that,” nodded Wally. “What about it, Arthur?”
“They’ve moved everyone out of Park Row. It’s empty now. They’ve got cordons all around it. Wayne Enterprises is putting up the residents in new housing.”
“Yeah?”
Arthur too sat down. “Just thinking out loud.”
“Something concerns me.” Diana looked to her teammates and took her seat. “The criminal population has been quiet. For a month, no super crime has been committed. Luthor’s ‘Society’ has been silent. You would think that they would have taken full advantage of our ‘distraction’. Lex Luthor is not the kind of person to leave an opportunity like this unexploited.”
Wally scratched his chin slowly before responding. “I’m not going to be the one stupid enough to say ‘maybe they’re doing it as a sign of respect’, because this is Lex we’re talking about, and God knows I’m not an idiot. You think it’s connected to his shooting?”
“I want to put the lasso around Dent one more time,” growled Diana through gritted teeth. “One more time. I want him to tell me everything.”
J’onn spoke with a rumble in his alien voice. “We would gain nothing from it, Diana, you know that. I have scanned his mind. Zatanna has extracted the information. You have already bound him with your lasso. I almost considered putting him in a room with Guy Gardner. That is how wanting I am of the truth. But he admitted it. He shot Batman with an armour piercing bullet. He took Bruce by complete surprise. He had it planned for months, waiting for the right time.”
“That shouldn’t happen!” Snapped Superman, his fists shaking. “That shouldn’t happen…”
“Nothing bad is ever supposed to, Clark.” Wally West turned away from the table. “I’m going home. I want to spend time with Linda and the kids. You understand.”
“I want to increase the membership of the League,” quietly stated Diana.
“Excuse me?” asked Wally, as he turned to the statement. “Wasn’t it Bru-- Wasn’t it Batman that once said that ‘ten times as many members doesn’t make us ten times more effective’? I stand by his comments.”
“If trained, as an army, as we should be, there would be no question of the League’s effectiveness,” replied Diana, as she looked to the others. “We know that Luthor has organized the super villain community into a Society, and by the Gods that I worship, we have been lax. We have lost a great man… What next? Zoom succeeds, leaving your wife a widow, Wally? Sinestro and his Corps succeed at long last at destroying you and yours, Hal? And Clark, maybe Braniac,--”
“We get the picture, Diana,” interrupted Superman. “I… I am for the expansion of the League… On a trial basis. If the others agree of course. But on a trial basis. This would be a test. I believe that as well as being an effective entity, a larger League could be unwieldy. Dangerous. So, we put it to vote. We already have two for.”
“Against,” stated Wally. “For reasons already stated. I don’t think Bruce would want his memory being used to create an army, Diana.”
“For,” nodded Hal. “The Corps has taught me one thing, Wally,” started the Green Lantern, “that having back up isn’t a bad thing. Not saying the League’s going to get 7200 new members, but you get the picture.”
“Hm,” mumbled Wally quietly.
Aquaman was next. “Against.”
"For. I do not want to lose another good friend.” J’onn J’onzz pulled up files on the monitor screens. “I will get to work on compiling a list of possible members.”
Wally looked at the team. “Damn. Never thought I’d see the day. I’m heading Earth side. You have my number.” The team watched as he left. They were so used to him leaving with a wink and a smile, a flash of red and yellow, but instead now, he just walked. One foot in front of the next. Just a man.
“He’s taking it hard,” Aquaman observed.
“We all are,” sighed Superman.
|
|
|
|
Post by arcalian on Dec 23, 2009 0:41:03 GMT -5
Nightwing fought hard. Fists swinging, legs kicking. He ducked and dived, never staying in the same spot for too long, defeating the thieves around him in short order. Gotham had been quiet of meta-crime. But of this? Of kids looking for a cheap thrill or the crime bosses in disarray after the death of Black Mask? Gotham continued to rot.
Oliver Queen sat atop a large pile of barrels, sharpening an arrow head nonchalantly.
“So you were just going to watch, Green Arrow?” huffed the former boy wonder, as he somersaulted atop a parked truck, his enemies disabled and unconscious. He took out a radio from his belt, and began to speak once more. “Gordon. Yeah. Down at McLevey’s. Seven. Ok.”
“Erhem,” Oliver Queen cleared his throat and drew Dick Grayson’s attention to an eighth thief, the cuff of his jacket pinned to the wall by an arrow, his .9mm just out of reach inches away with an arrow through the trigger. The modern-day Robin Hood slammed his fist across the burglars face, knocking him out.
“Eight. Make that eight.” He hung up. “So you weren’t just watching. Why are you here?”
“Keeping an eye on you.”
“Because that’s what the old man would have wanted? Spare me your pity, Arrow. I’ve had enough of it from everyone else.” He headed toward the exit of the warehouse.
“Wait. No. It’s not like that.” Green Arrow placed a hand on the young vigilante’s shoulder. Nightwing growled and grabbed it, and swung Oliver Queen over his head, only for the archer to kick back against the wall he was headed for and send the ex-Robin clattering to the ground on impact. “Damn it, Dick, don’t do this.”
Nightwing glared at Arrow from where he lay on his back. “You don’t think I see the looks they’re giving me? Wonder Woman and Superman? I don’t need their pity. We got the guy. It was always a risk, in this business. He knew. Batman knew that any day he could catch a bullet. A laser blast. Heck, a lungful of Smilex. It doesn’t matter that Dent did it. It’s semantics now.”
“You don’t believe that,” grunted Queen, as he helped Nightwing up. “You don’t believe it was that easy.” He looked around, and then smiled weakly. “It’s a joke we have, in the business, that Batman is more dangerous than Superman. That with enough prep time he could kick God in the gonads and run away giggling, scott-free, you know that? Superman’s got nothing on Batman. Two-Face couldn’t kill Batman on his best day, and come on, with half a face doused in acid; we both know that Dent can’t shoot a target head on to save his life. No depth perception. There’s more to this.” The duo walked out of the warehouse, the wail of sirens piercing the night sky.
“Are you saying that it’s a lie? The League got an autopsy performed by Niles Caulder, the Atom, and Doctor Mid-Nite, with Mr Terrific lending a helping hand, and then when they were done, John Stewart did everything but pulling Batman apart by the molecules with that ring of his. Are you saying it’s a conspiracy?”
Green Arrow was silent for a minute. Silence was all they could really muster right now. “I’m not saying that. But I know someone who is.”
“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? You think that Bruce’s death was part of this ridiculous, larger than life conspiracy?” Nightwing shook his head as he dove across a chasm between buildings. “Come on, please, just leave it Oliver. Out of respect for Bruce, just stop grasping at straws.”
"Respect?” spat Arrow, grabbing Nightwing by the shoulder once more. “Respect? Respect is something that you earned. We all earned the respect of Batman. For some stupid reason he was the one we needed to accept us. And now you’re telling me to not investigate a crime out of respect for the Batman? Are you listening to yourself, son?”
Nightwing oozed in Green Arrow’s grip. He didn’t struggle, or moan, he just… Stood. Simmering with anger beneath the surface. “Mr Queen. Green Arrow. Oliver. In my life, I had been lucky enough to have two fathers. And they both died. Shot to death. Don’t you think, right now, that I need a bit of distance from this? I am doing my best not to crack and break down. I just…” He held back a sob, his mask for moment slipping, but then reformed, harder. “Wonder Woman said that Dent did it. Martian Manhunter said that Dent did it. Superman agreed with their gatherings. Heck, I hear even Zatanna Zatara had a look inside Dent’s head, and came to the same conclusion. Harvey Dent killed Batman. I can accept that.”
Green Arrow took a device from his pocket, and then shook his head. “Seems in my old age, I’m just gullible then.” He pressed the trigger, and vanished in a flash of light. The emerald archer teleported away from the scene, leaving Nightwing alone in the Gotham night.
|
|
|
|
Post by arcalian on Dec 23, 2009 0:44:11 GMT -5
“ Kill you. Kill YOU right NOW. Tear you to BITS and devours the FLESH. Kill. KILL. YOU.” “I don’t want to talk to Two-Face. I want to talk to Harvey Dent.” “Harvey’s TIRED. Tired from the POKING and the PRODDING,” hissed the man through swollen, scarred lips. “POKING and PRODDING.”The cell was pitch black. Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane spared no expense for their special guests. They chanted his name in the cells above. ‘Two-Face! Two-Face! Two-Face!’ and so on. The man who killed the Batman. Others wept. Wept with a smile on their face. Shadows played across the walls. And the man without a face, in a small, claustrophobic space with the man with two, waited patiently. “There won’t be anymore poking and prodding. A word. I need a word with him.” The Question felt unease in this place. He had danced the merry little dance with insanity, and he had come up against it successfully. But still. “ KILL YOU KILL YOUUUAAAAARRRRRrrhhhh Oh… God… I’m… Sorry. Hard to think nowadays. Hard to think.” The Question didn’t move from his place leaning against the wall. “Harvey Dent.” “Yessss,” mumbled the man. “He takes control sometimes. He takes control, and I can’t fight it. So tired, easy to let him loose… Frrk.” “You need to fight it, Harvey. You’re here for something you didn’t do. I know it.” “Killing… Batman? I did it. I did it alright. SHOT HIM THROUGH THE HEART.” “You’re growling at me again, Harvey. That means I’m not talking to who I want to talk to. That means you’re not strong. And if there’s one thing you always were, as a DA, as a fighter of the good fight, it was strong. Talk to me. Stay with me.” “Harrrrk…” The Question stared as the man thrashed about in the chair he had been strapped to. He pondered for a while, how a man could be torn in two by one single, unthinkable act. There was deeper trauma. Ideas danced in his head. He took something from his pocket, and approached the thrashing maniac. He grabbed his head. “ PRODDING get OFF me get OFF I’LL kill YOU KILL YOU.” “I’m doing you a favour,” whispered the vigilante. Suddenly Two-Face had a hand free. Everything to his left was dark. He couldn’t see. But on the table, in front of him, was something he could use. And in front of him, further still, stood the Question. “There’s a gun on the table, Two-Face.” There was a gun on the table. Harvey’s right eye jerked around frantically, looking it up and down. “There’s a loaded gun on the table.” It was loaded. Harvey could tell by looking at it with his good right eye. He could just tell. His free hand grabbed the weapon. He aimed it. And he pulled the trigger. BLAM! Concrete and plaster erupted beside the Question’s head. “I thought not.” “KILL YOU. I will KILL YOU and KILL and KILL and not stop KILLING.” The Question approached Two-Face again. Engulfed him. Took the gun away in a single motion. Tied his hand back into the straight jacket. Removed the blindfold from the left, scarred side of his head. “You haven’t got any depth perception, Two Face. I’d bet my life on it.” The door to the cell opened. Harvey Dent thrashed about. Armed Asylum guards stood ready. “Heard a gun shot. Heard a gun shot, what happened? What happened?” “KILL and KILL and--” “Must have… Imagined it. Or something. Check Dent,” ordered an orderly. “He’s still tied up as tight as a present on Christmas Day.” The orderly took a syringe from her pocket, removed the rubber cap from the needle, and then stabbed it into a vial she took from another pocket. “You won’t be killing anyone for a good long time, Mr Dent. Not anymore. They’re going to cut away the parts of your brain that make you who you are. Orders from on high. No more Two-Face. No more Harvey Dent. Just an empty sack of flesh.” The orderly injected Harvey with the cocktail of drugs, and didn’t notice the bullet hole in the old concrete walls of the cell. Nor did she notice the dusty plaster that nestled on the floor below it. The Question stood outside Arkham Asylum. The conclusion of his experiment was clear: “He couldn’t have made that shot, even if he wanted to.” |
|
|
|
Post by arcalian on Dec 23, 2009 0:45:37 GMT -5
“Dick?” Tim Drake whispered into his phone, sitting in the Titans Tower room he had been staying in for the weekend. He had left Alfred for the first time in a month, unable to bear the memories of the Manor. He couldn’t go into the cave. He just… Couldn’t.
“Tim,” replied Dick, “What’s wrong kid?”
“I don’t know man, we’ve just… we’ve not spoken since the funeral, I just… are you alright?”
“Yeah,” replied Dick, diving over a building and rolling across a rooftop, one hand to his ear as he held his phone. “Just… blowing off some steam.”
“The Tower is weird without… everyone. Vic’s always down in the lab, Raven meditating, Rose is training and it’s not like the weekends when we meet up for real. God, I’m a mess man. I’m actually considering letting Rose seduce me, that’s got to be a new low, you know?”
Dick chuckled, and then felt guilty about it immediately. “We all mourn in different ways. I suggest not making out with Deathstroke’s daughter as a method of healing though, little brother.” He didn’t really think about it as he said it. But it was true, they were both Bruce Wayne’s adopted sons. Sure, Dick had been adopted in his adult years, but he had always considered Bruce a second father. It didn’t feel weird saying it. Tim didn’t say anything. “Ah, I don’t know. Want me to come up? Not been in the Tower for a while. I think Roy is staying in San Fran nowadays, I think it might be cool to catch up with you all. If you… if you want that is man.”
“Hey, sounds cool Dick. And… thanks. Argh, I think I hear Rose outside my room. I think she might have been drinking.”
“Self control, kid, self control.” Dick smiled as Tim hung up. And then his smile twisted. An angry little thing rose up inside his chest, and he grunted as he pushed it back down. San Francisco. He wasn’t feeling sociable. But this was his brother. It would be easy to charter a plane. He pulled a line from his belt, and then threw it across toward a building, then flew into the darkness.
|
|
|
|
Post by arcalian on Dec 23, 2009 0:48:42 GMT -5
Photos from the autopsy littered Ted Kord’s apartment. After he heard about the funeral he went red for a while. Stopped thinking. Stopped… Acting. When an impossible action like the death of Batman occurred, he tended to be struck dumb. And not in the endearing way. He didn’t answer the phone. Martian Manhunter checked up on him. Acknowledged Ted’s situation, and then moved on. He was overlooked by the League normally. Wonder Woman always made time for him, and Bruce… Bruce always let him speak his piece. Batman had died. But how? After Mr Terrific was done with the autopsy photos, the video footage of the autopsy, all that, was destroyed. Wiped off the JSA computer banks with expert precision. But not well enough. Ted Kord had been brought in to design the computers they used. To ensure that they were unhackable. But he left a back door for himself. So before all those bights of data were cleaned away, he stole them for himself, and now here he was. Surrounded by photos of a friend’s dead body. He stared at the photos for hours on end. What could he hope to see that everyone else had missed? He was a genius, yes… but more of a genius than Niles Caulder? It could be disputed. So all he could do was stare for a good long while. Stare and think. Wildcat had come over a few days ago after the funeral. Wanted to do a bit of sparring down at his gym. Said the JSA were worried about him. They knew how he got. ‘Blanking’, Beetle had dubbed it once. Only Bruce knew the truth. Ted Kord, while a creative genius, lived with bi-polar disorder. It didn’t affect his work, unless the ‘impossible actions’ occurred, and even then, they only happened once in a while. He stared. No one back in his Justice League days knew. Not Fire, not Ice, not Black Canary, not anybody. He’d never really had anyone to confide that to. The bullet had punctured Bruce’s chest. Shattered his sternum. Gone through his heart. Exited his back. Took a chunk of body armour and flesh with it on its way out. It wasn’t pretty. But anything from Gotham City rarely was. He took a sip from the mug of coffee he had made seven hours ago but forgotten about in the interim. Cold. He didn’t care. He scratched his chin. His beard itched. He owed Bruce Wayne his life. And as he thought about that fact, his memories wandered: In Switzerland. A gun at his head, and the finger behind the trigger belonging to Maxwell Lord. He had spat in Lord’s face. And then all hell broke lose. Batman had come to his rescue. Disabled ‘Brother I’ thanks to a computer virus designed by his own private Oracle. Babs. Checkmate was taken down by the cavalry, the JSA storming that old castle high in the mountains. For Blue Beetle, Batman had brought the cavalry. He had offered a hand, and in a moment of sheer madness, said something that made Ted Kord rethink his entire life: “ I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Ted.” Never had Blue Beetle been more relieved. So Ted Kord rebuilt his life. Dedicated his rebuilt life to his company, to improving people’s lives. Sure, he put on the costume every now and then, but it wasn’t about that anymore. He had a purpose. And when he heard about the death of Batman, an ‘impossible action’… Well. That wouldn’t do. He would find out how Batman died. He would find the true culprit. And he would bring them to justice. Because right now, that’s all he could do. To Be Continued. Please take a moment and follow this link to tell us what you thought of the issue! |
|
