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Post by HoM on Mar 7, 2007 10:49:14 GMT -5
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Post by HoM on Mar 7, 2007 10:49:51 GMT -5
Batman
Masks, Part 3: "The Rage"
Plotted by Burchette, Paugh, Elbe & HoM
Written by House Of Mystery With Brian Burchette
Cover by Adam Tupper
Edited by Grant LaFleche |
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Post by capeandcowl on Mar 7, 2007 12:51:19 GMT -5
Gotham City was burning.
Not because of a metahuman who breathed napalm, no, that didn’t happen in Gotham City. You’re maybe thinking of Metropolis, where a God would swoop in from the sky and take care of that do-badder before his mouth opened more than a millimetre. No. This was the result of a war that raged on the streets. People. That’s the one cancer that Gotham can’t shake.
For all your trying, you can’t stop it. The City sapped away at your identity, broke you down, spat you out… That’s why suicide rates were so high in this state. Gotham takes the weak willed and burns them out of its city lines, like a boil upon your flesh. Like a disease.
The strong, the brutal… They prosper. So Gotham created an antibody with one event, years ago. It drove a man to poverty. To crime. And then that blight took the lives of Thomas and Martha Wayne.
And it created Batman.
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Post by capeandcowl on Mar 7, 2007 12:51:37 GMT -5
“Can you smell that?” asked Black Mask, as he sat in the back of the black, unmarked car. “Fear.” If he was smiling, you couldn’t tell. The ebony mask he wore, carved from his father’s coffin, hid his face… But the tone of his voice, the way he took bites out of the words as they left his mouth… He was smiling. It wouldn’t be a bad gamble to make that kind bet. His hand wandered over the thin crack over his forehead, created when he attacked the Dark Knight in the alleyway outside of the apartment block that contained James Gordon’s family, and then he began to speak once more. “Take us home. I want to be by the phone when our dear friend calls up and tells me the job is done.”
“Yes sir, Master Sionis.” Replied the chauffeur as he pushed his foot down on the accelerator, and lifted the other off the clutch.
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Post by capeandcowl on Mar 7, 2007 12:53:22 GMT -5
“Barbara!” Nightwing reached out to the daughter of Jim Gordon as she screamed in pain, blood pouring out of her leg, only for Deathstroke to be upon him before he could react. Deathstroke sliced at the gloves that contain the batarangs on Nightwing’s forearms, and then knocked the back of the young hero’s head with his elbow.
He immediately placed his sword back in its hilt, and then proceeded to begin his work. He’s like a surgeon. Each strike exact and precise. His punches echoed in the darkness of the hospital floor.
He’d sabotaged the elevators. He’d locked down the stairwells.
He’d isolated them.
His punches echoed in the darkness of the hospital floor. The soft wet sound of fist upon flesh, the sound of blood as it splattered from the young hero’s mouth. A kick sends the former sidekick flying into the ceiling, the plaster fluttering to the ground as Slade followed through as he grabbed his adversary by the leg and threw him out the door, the boy’s limp frame buckling as it slid to the ground.
Deathstroke the Terminator reaches for his blade to finish the job, and the bravado he had built up in his barrage of attacks is suddenly gone. His eyes wandered to his hilt, then to his back, and then to the vigilante as he slowly pulled himself up, supported by the metal blade.
“Forget so soon?” Nightwing cracked his knuckles and then and smiled as he threw the blade aside. He wiped the blood from his split lip. He adopted a fighting stance. “Bring it.”
“Playing dumb.” Deathstroke began to remove his weapons and ammunition pouches from his armoured body. “I like that. You’re like a little animal. Trapped in an enclosed space with a bigger, better, stronger, prettier animal” He stretched his arm out and then formed his own stance. “Let’s play this fair.”
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Post by capeandcowl on Mar 7, 2007 12:55:37 GMT -5
Get up, he thought, you pull yourself up and you get up.
His head ached, blood dripped down from a wound acquired when Black Mask head butted him. He couldn’t concentrate, and he knew that he was concussed. GET UP. He staggered to his feet, and supported himself on the ledge. GET THE LINE FROM YOUR BELT AND GET OUT OF HERE.
He clenched his fist to stop the shakes. The explosion had hit him head on, he didn’t have time to save Gordon’s son, and he didn’t have time to do anything but hide his face and then Black Mask… No. You get up. Stop thinking and get up. He gritted his teeth and fired the line, and then the call came through his cowl. His eyes widened and his jaw clicked.
Batgirl!! “Batman! Deathstroke is--” Deathstroke? No. He couldn’t be here… Slade Wilson could not be here. Not now. Not when… “--He’s going to kill my dad!”
“I’m coming, Barbara!” His head was clear. His mind no longer clouded by pain or preoccupation. He failed his friend once, but no longer. Never again.
He was fifteen minutes away from Mercy. Ten if he pushed it. If only they could last that long…
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Post by capeandcowl on Mar 7, 2007 12:56:02 GMT -5
Punch after punch, blow after blow, Dick parried and blocked, but with each block his flesh crunched, his skin tore, and he knew the truth. Deathstroke was better than him. And he might die this night of all nights. “Feeling the pressure, Robin?”
He didn’t answer. He knew that Deathstroke was trying to distract him. He had to keep a level head. He had to keep fighting. Keep… Defending. A smile formed on his lips. Enough with being on the defensive. How about the offensive? He slipped down as Deathstroke lunged at him, and then drove his knee into the assassin’s crotch, causing the villain to groan in pain. “Sonofa--”
“Nuh-Uh, Deathstroke. No need to get personal.” He slammed his elbow into the back of the villain’s head, but the man leapt backwards, softening the impact of the blow. Dick afforded a glance in the direction of where Barbara was, but she had gone, a trail of blood leading out of the room. Yes. She was safe.
Deathstroke smiled. “You’re playing dirty? Your daddy never played dirty.”
“He’s not the only one.” A voice attracted both their attention, and then a purple arrow shot out of the darkness, which immediately impaled Deathstroke in the shoulder, causing him to groan in pain. Batgirl stepped out of the shadows, dropping a backpack that had contained what she was wearing and using now. She was holding a weapon, obviously borrowed from Huntress, and had a wicked smile on her lips. She had enjoyed that. Dick could see she had hastily pulled on her uniform, dressed her leg wound, but she was favouring one side, leaning on her strong leg. “You hang around with a bad crowd for long enough, they begin to rub off on you.”
Dick smiled. “I bet.”
Deathstroke didn’t smile. He snapped the bolt off his shoulder, the purple shaft still hanging in there. “Oh. I get it. Batgirl’s the cop’s daughter.” He motioned to her long red hair. “Might want to try covering that up next time. It’s a dead give away.”
Barbara froze.
The assassin shook his head. “Don’t worry, it’s not my secret to tell. But I will make sure you have more important things to think about!” He leapt at them, before Batgirl could fire off another barrage. He grabbed the crossbow, broke it into dozens of pieces with a twist of his wrist, and then shot his other fist towards the heroine’s jaw, but Dick leapt up and kicked it back, causing the Terminator to hit the former sidekick of Batman in the face with the remains of the borrowed weapon, splinters of wood slashing across Dick’s face.
“Bet you wished your teams were here to back you up, now, don’t you kids?”
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Post by capeandcowl on Mar 7, 2007 12:56:42 GMT -5
“I NEED A TELEPORT.” Batman shouted into the communicator on the dashboard of the car. “I NEED YOU TO LOCK ONTO ME AND TELEPORT ME TO MERCY GENERAL.” He was impatient. He was minutes away. But every minute right now counted, and he couldn’t afford to lose any more allies in his mission.
“I am preparing for your request but…”
“J’ONN.” said Batman, as he fiddled with a compartment to his side. A panel flew back and he pulled the bundle out. “Lives are at stake.”
“You need to slow down; else your momentum will be carried through with the teleportation…”
Batman grimaced and pushed down harder on the accelerator. “I know J’onn, I helped design the technology! DO IT.”
“Engaging.”
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Post by capeandcowl on Mar 7, 2007 12:57:11 GMT -5
Deathstroke smiled as he grabbed Nightwing by the arm, and swung him round, throwing him through a wall and causing him to land with a groan as his bones shook. “Come on little girl.”
Batgirl pulled a batarang from her belt and swung down on the assassin’s head, slashing the top of his leather mask, revealing his silver hair. “Oh, sneaky…” He ducked down, and swiped her feet out from underneath her, and then pulled the batarang from her hand and prepared to drive it down on her face when she kicked up, hitting him beneath the chin, causing him to choke. She leapt back up and kicked him hard in the nose, blood billowing out of the open zip which he spoke through. She was about to kick him again when he grabbed her leg, right where he had cut her before, and squeezed, causing her to scream in pain. Nightwing pulled himself up, dove at the assassin and grabbed him by the head, latching on tightly, trying to choke the man to unconsciousness, but too his amazement, he couldn’t get a good enough grip, the assassin thrusting one arm in front of his throat and another behind his back. Deathstroke threw him over his head, grabbed the gun which he had thrown aside minutes before and whipped the young hero across the back of the skull. He cocked the pistol, heard the bullet slide into the barrel, he pulled the hammer back, when--
-- The air shook.
-- There was a bang.
And something hit him square in the back! Something hitting him so hard it caused him to howl in pain as he was sent flying forwards, almost as if he had been hit by a load of buck shot from a shotgun. “SLADE!” Batman leapt off of the assassins back and landed on his feet, and then sprinted at the villain and grabbed him by the mask, swinging him around and into a wall, sending them both through into another ward.
Deathstroke the Terminator looked up, his mask torn and shredded, and then pulled it off, revealing a black eye patch, close cropped silver hair and a goatee that ran down his chin. His lower face was encrusted in blood, his nose broken but already healing, a gift from Batgirl going ignored. “We meet again Bruce.” Slade spat blood, and then climbed to his feet. “Pleasure to see you again.”
“Hrn.”
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Post by capeandcowl on Mar 7, 2007 12:57:36 GMT -5
Cobblepot was surrounded by several beautiful women and was enjoying every bit of it. This was the life he was meant to have, and now that he did, nobody was going to take it away from him…nobody.
“Boss, you got a call. It’s from the orphanage.”
“Ah, I was hoping to hear from them soon. Please excuse me ladies. My charity work is twenty-four hours, I’m afraid. Please stay, drinks are on the house. I shall return, anon, and then we can pick up where we left off.”
He walked as quickly as his short, stocky legs would move him. The cigarette holder in one corner of his mouth, twirling his walking stick in the other.
He left the noisy club and retired to his office, his face frowning at the boarded up window that had yet to be fixed from Batman’s exit earlier that evening.
He picked up the phone, “Cobblepot here.”
“You asked me to inform you when the package arrived, Mr. Cobblepot,” came the voice of an older lady. “It has arrived on time, and without any damage, just as you asked.”
The Penguin squawked with delight, “Excellent! Keep it safe and warm until I come for it. Make sure it is well out of sight of prying eyes.”
He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. He inhaled his cigarette deeply and chuckled.
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Post by capeandcowl on Mar 7, 2007 12:58:41 GMT -5
“What’s taking so long?” Roman Sionis paced the room. His mask sat on his desk, and it looked at him with cold dead eyes, following his every move. “He’s Slade Wilson! Deathstroke the Terminator! He’s death personified, and he can’t kill some middle aged police officer? Goddammit…”
“Failure.”
“What?” He span around, confused. “Who said that?” He pulled his gun from his back and looked around.
“YOU can’t even kill one man, you have to get your lackeys to do it.”
“Who the hell? You can’t talk to me like that! I’m the Black Mask!”
“No, Son… I’M the Black Mask!”
Roman’s eyes widened and then his eyes focused on the mask that lay on his table. In the darkness, he could almost see… A smile on its cold ebony lips… “You…” He spun around and pressed the intercom by his chair. “Danny. Call the boys in here.”
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Post by capeandcowl on Mar 7, 2007 12:59:03 GMT -5
“Oh, don’t go silent on me now; we’ve got so much to catch up on!” Deathstroke kicked Batman hard in the chest, the hero’s cape whipping in front of him as he flew back.
He hasn’t lost any of his strength, thought the Dark Knight. He might even be stronger.
He flipped backwards, slowing himself, and then stood up, only to see the rampaging figure of Deathstroke stampede towards him, slamming his shoulder into the Batman’s shoulder and causing him to flip over the assassins head, and to be kicked in the stomach and sent rolling to the ground. Definitely hasn’t lost any of his skill.
“Body armour holding up, Batman?” Deathstroke wandered down the corridor and picked up his sword, and then headed back to the caped crusader. “It’s not going to do anything to prevent my promethium laced sword from reaching that heart of yours.” He kicked Batman in the head, causing him to black out momentarily, and then his boot was pressed against the Dark Knight’s head, keeping him down. “Or maybe we’ll take a peak into that head of yours. See what bats flap around your belfry.”
“Or maybe you should shut up!” Nightwing kicked the man square in the head, dislodging the eye patch and causing his foot to rise, giving Batman time to slip out and punch the man in the jaw, toppling the assassin over to the floor.
“Thanks Nightwing.” Batman sprinted towards the villain only for the blade to shoot up, catching the hero in the shoulder and cutting through compressed layers of Kevlar and promethium weave. Blood trickled out of the wound, but Batman grabbed the blade between his two gloved hands, and pulled the sword out before it could drive any deeper.
“You always liked that move.” Deathstroke rolled onto his shoulders and kicked up, pushing Batman back and staggering him. “Shame I know you better than you know yourself.” The assassin climbed to his feet, a void where his right eye should be.
“Shut up.” Batman climbed to his feet and pulled his cape over his wound, quickly dressing it.
“Shame I trained you. What a waste of my time. If I knew you were going to take this up as a hobby I would have slit your young throat there and then.”
Nightwing didn’t speak, but instead threw a barrage of batarangs at the man’s head, but Deathstroke jerked up his sword, and deflected them. “Damn…”
“The boy can leave. Take the girl with him.”
“You’re not the boss of me, you ba--”
“Nightwing.”
“Batman?”
The Dark Knight never took his gaze off Deathstroke. The assassin picked up his eye patch and wrapped it back around his head, and then looked up, and smiled. “Go. Take Batgirl with you.”
“I can’t! Deathstroke will…”
Batman spun around, a fire in his eyes. “I have to finish this!”
Nightwing had not seen that rage in his adopted father for a long time. It used to flicker and spark when The Joker escaped from Arkham. It burned brightly when Julie died. But now… Nightwing understood. Deathstroke… Had made him part of who he was today. Deathstroke was Bruce if he’d taken the path of vengeance… And not the path of justice. “Well Robin, aren’t you going to listen to Pappy?”
“Batman…” His head sank. He turned around and went to Barbara, who was making sure her father was alright, even though a gash across her head was nearly blinding her. “Batgirl, we need to get your dad out of here.”
“How about you just sit down and put your head where my sword can easily get at it, Batman? How much easier would that make this?”
“Slade…” Batman pulled a bundle from his back, and then began to unwrap it. “You always talked too much.” He revealed a long katana, which glistened in the darkness of the room, and as he moved his forefinger across the sleek metal, it sang to him. “Come on.”
The two men ran at each other, Deathstroke driving his sword down but Batman deflecting it, and then he made his own move, slicing, cutting, jabbing and parrying. A grim smile grew on Batman’s lips. He was enjoying himself. Deathstroke thrust his fist out, attempting to chin Batman, but the hero jerked down with the sword, slicing at the man’s wrist and slitting the tendons. “Dammit!” He swung his hand back and Batman pressed the attack.
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Post by capeandcowl on Mar 7, 2007 13:02:52 GMT -5
Sionis looked down at the letter in front of him, and the picture of him placing his mask onto his head. The letter was signed with the initials, O.C. He played with the gun he held in his hand. He opened the barrel and loaded in the bullets. He looked up, and heard a knock in at the door.
“You’re a pathetic excuse of a Sionis… You aren’t my son…”
“Shut up!” Roman grabbed the mask and placed it on his head, and then rolled his neck. He lowered his voice an octave, and then spoke again. “GET IN HERE.”
Four men entered the room as he spoke, all strong, brutish men, wearing black business suits and different types of mask. Devils, angels, monsters and murderers. “Someone’s been leaking information…”
“Sir?”
“Someone’s been leaking information to the Penguin! They were there when we went for Gordon’s kid. I only told you we were going there. You were told not to tell any of the men. So I’m afraid I have to assume one of you sold me out to that stunted little freak!”
“Boss!” Pleaded the Devil.
“Don’t you ‘Boss’ me!” Retorted Black Mask. “Someone sold me out. Now, does someone want to step forward and share the identity of the traitor?”
“Please, Boss, we wouldn’t…” Begged the Angel.
“Was it you?” Black Mask jerked up his gun hand and shot the Angel in between the eyes, the mask shattering into pieces as the bullet pierced his flesh. “Oh, how someone so heavenly could betray me…”
“I-Is that all Boss?”
“No.” Black Mask fired his gun three more times, never missing the mark. Straight between the eyes. Mask shattering as the bullets travel through. “That’s my boy…”
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Post by capeandcowl on Mar 7, 2007 13:03:11 GMT -5
He had trained with the best. “Hrn.” He parried a blow. He had spent his teenage years travelling the world. “Htt.” He jerked his arms up, blocking a swipe. He had met every master that was still alive and trained under them until he mastered their skills and combined them with his own. “Hrah.” He back flipped against a wall and propelled himself forward, butting Deathstroke in the head. He was the master of every ancient form of combat. “Ah!” Deathstroke caught his opponent’s wrist, nicking the flesh. He would not go down easily!
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Post by capeandcowl on Mar 7, 2007 13:03:30 GMT -5
“We’re too evenly matched, kemosabe!” Deathstroke smiled as he saw the blood his sword. “Anything you can do I can do…”
“And you’re all mouth.” Slade Wilson, on the other hand, was part of an elite level of fighter. Like David Cain, he was unstoppable at what he did, but that didn’t stop Bruce Wayne approaching him. And for six months, Bruce Wayne trained. He was taught how to fight twenty people twice his size at once. He was taught how to simulate death in an opponent. And Slade Wilson, realising that Bruce Wayne could become a better fighter than him… Told him his training was complete. That the young billionaire was free to leave. And so Bruce did.
“Yeah, well the ladies love it.”
“Sure.”
He should have known there’d be a catch.
In one swift movement Slade grabbed three baubles from his belt and then threw them to the ground. The globes smashed on impact and a blue glass began to spread across the room, and engulfed the caped crusader. The gas clung to his skin, seeped through his flesh and spread into his blood stream. “Sorry old chum.” Deathstroke smiled and sheathed his sword, and then kicked the katana from Batman’s gloved hand. “Can’t breathe, Batman?” Slade smiled as he spat blood out of his mouth. He began to slowly move his sword over Batman’s cowl. “Suffocation isn’t something you can really walk off, is it?”
“Hrrr…” The Dark Knight began to reach out his hand as he gasped for breath.
“Give it up…”
“He’s not going to give up.” Nightwing leapt through the air and connected his boot with Deathstroke’s head, and then span around, kicking the sword out of his hand and punching him in the nose, breaking it once more.
Batman struggled for breath, and then Batgirl was there, by his side. “Adrenaline.” She pulled back his cowl slightly at the slightly fold beneath his chin, the only place you can pull it open without being electrocuted by the taser circuits running throughout it. She injected the syringe into his artery and then looked up, grabbing a batarang from her belt and throwing it at the assassin’s good eye, but he rolled back and kicked Nightwing in the hip before hitting the ground hard himself.
“Batgirl…” Batman jerked up, his face read. “Batarang.” She nodded and passed him the weapon, and Batman bound onto the assassin, and without hesitating stabbed the man in his bad eye. “Walk this off.”
“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“BATMAN!” Nightwing’s eyes opened wide as he watched his mentor do the deed, and then froze as Deathstroke grabbed Batman by the throat.
“Miiiiistake!” Slade wrenched the blade out of his socket and head butted the caped crusader, then punched him so hard he collapsed in a heap on the opposite side of the room. “Sorry kids.” He pulled a weapon from his back and shot two darts at the shocked vigilantes, knocking them out instantly. “No more games…” He shot a glance back to Batman, who bled quietly in the corner. “I’ll be back for you.” He stumbled out of the holes in the wall he had created, the blinding pain in his head causing him not to notice the figure who stood at the end of the corridor, sweating profusely. When he arrived at James Gordon’s private room he paused, knocking on the door before proceeding. “Officer Gordon? Are you decent? It’s time for your shots...”
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Post by HoM on Mar 7, 2007 13:10:03 GMT -5
To Be Concluded in Detective Comics #16 |
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Post by mockingbird on Jul 28, 2011 11:08:22 GMT -5
To let us know what you think of this issue, please visit the letters page here!
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