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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 11:49:08 GMT -5
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 11:51:18 GMT -5
DC2 Showcase Vol. II #1 [/i] Cover by Brandon Herren Edited by Charles HoM and Brian Burchette[/center] |
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 11:53:43 GMT -5
Batman & Robin
In:
"Caught Between A Rock And A Hard Place"
By BatKid |
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 11:59:18 GMT -5
“Sir.”
Young Dick Grayson glanced up from the Hardy Boys book he was reading, curious. The Manor’s butler looked and sounded worried.
“Yeah? Is something wrong, Alfred?”
The butler nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. “Yes. Master Bruce has just received word that Miss Gordon has been kidnapped.”
Dick jumped up, and the book slid off his lap onto the floor with a thump.
“Babs?” He looked worried, then determined. “Where’s Bruce? Is he in the Batcave?”
“Yes. But--!" Dick glanced up at him impatiently.
“He instructed me to inform you that you were not to go on this particular mission. In fact, Master Dick, he told me that you have a certain English paper due tomorrow.”
Dick shook his head. “The one time he would know what I’m doing in school,” he muttered. He continued on, pushing past Alfred, who stood in the doorway.
“Dick--"
“No.”
Dick continued through the Manor, fuming. Babs was his friend, and he should help rescue her!
Thumping down the Cave steps, he strode to the middle of the cave. “Bruce?” He called.
No answer.
Dick ran to where the suits were kept. There was his bright one, a startling contrast to Batgirl’s dark one-- But no Batsuit.
“Darn!”
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 12:00:13 GMT -5
Batman focused on the mission, and the mission alone. By this time, he knew, Dick would know that Barbara had been kidnapped. He glanced at the clock on the Batmobile’s dashboard-- Dick would also have found out he’d been left behind by now. He knew that the boy would be furious at having been left behind, but if what Gordon had said was true…
Well, if what Gordon had said was true, it would take nothing short of a miracle to rescue Barbara.
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 12:00:43 GMT -5
After slipping into his Robin suit (against Alfred’s protests) Dick went to where the Batmobile was normally parked, though he knew it would be gone. Parked near where the Batmobile usually was, he saw his ‘cycle. It was on its side on the floor. He walked over to it.
“Bruce.” He muttered darkly.
Both tires on the motorcycle were missing. Bruce must have hidden them somewhere. Dick, hoping that for once Batman hadn’t been thorough, checked his supply of spare tires. They, too, had been ruined. Glumly, and with growing frustration, Dick checked his bike-- But the ten speed’s tires had mysteriously disappeared, too.
Kicking the bike angrily, he paced-- How in the world was he going to get out of there?
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 12:01:32 GMT -5
Batman stepped out of the Batmobile, striding over to where a man was pacing.
“Gordon.” He said.
The police commissioner looked up. “Batman,” he said in what sounded like a combination of anger and relief.
Jim Gordon looked up at Batman. “As you know, Barbara has been kidnapped.” He forced down a fresh burst of rage.
“The man who kidnapped her claims to know your identity. He also says that if the police don’t unmask you to confirm his theory--" Jim paused. “If we don’t unmask you, he’ll kill Barb.”
Batman said nothing; only nodded, deep in thought.
Gordon glanced at the Batmobile. “Where’s Robin?”
“He doesn’t belong on this particular mission,” Batman said shortly.
“I agreed, you know.”
Batman looked up. “To what?”
“To unmask you.”
The two men stared at each other, neither faltering. Finally, Batman nodded slowly.
“Good.”
“Good?!” The commissioner exploded.
“Yes. So long as the man thinks he has a chance at getting me to unmask, then he might keep Barbara alive.”
Gordon spoke quietly. “I can’t risk my daughter’s life on ‘mights’ and ‘maybes’.”
Batman gestured at Gordon’s car, the conversation apparently over, as far as he was concerned. “Let’s go. You’re going to order the police to keep back. I’ll deal with the kidnapper. Do we have an ID on him?”
“No. And what, I’m just supposed to trust you to save my daughter’s life while I stand back and watch?” Gordon said angrily.
“Yes.” Batman nodded. “That’s exactly what you’re going to do.”
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 12:02:07 GMT -5
Dick ran up the stairs to his bedroom and started going through his closet, yanking out clothes and toys.
“Master Dick?” Alfred came up behind him. “You really shouldn’t wear the suit in the house.”
Dick said nothing, only tossed out a box of Legos.
“If I may ask, what are you looking for?”
“My scooter.”
“Oh. I donated that years ago. I had no idea that you would want to ride it again.”
“Darn.” Dick sat where he was, staring unseeingly at a plastic G.I. Joe as he thought. A few moments passed before he said, “I know!” The boy ran over to his bed and stuck his head under it. A moment later he pulled something out.
“Master Dick-- You don’t really mean for me to let you go on that, do you?” Alfred asked, staring at the skateboard Dick held.
“Yes.” Dick nodded. “That’s exactly what you’re going to do.”
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 12:11:56 GMT -5
Batman looked at Gordon. “Remember what I said. No one goes anywhere near the kidnapper unless I order them to.”
“Just bring my daughter back safe.”
Without answering, Batman walked into the building that the kidnapper held Babs in-- An old house in the middle of a remodeling. He ignored the mixed glances he received from the police officers as they retreated at Gordon’s barked order. Some looked at him with awe, others with distrust. Some even looked annoyed.
Focus on the mission.
Batman listened for any clue that might reveal where in the house Babs and the kidnapper were. He heard a tiny sound from his left and headed for it.
As he entered the room, his eyes narrowed. Babs was tied to a chair in the middle of the room, wires crisscrossing over her chest, arms, and stomach. In her lap was a box.
Beside Barbara was a man. In the dim light it was hard to tell, but he looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties. He had slightly graying hair, wore well-worn jeans, and had on a black Beatles shirt.
“Batman!” The man exclaimed.
“I hear you have a bomb.” Batman gestured to the box on Babs’ lap. “I suppose that that’s it?”
“Yeah.” The man peered at him anxiously, as though studying him, then nodded, satisfied. He waved at Batman’s cowl. “And I suppose you’re Wayne, huh? Bruce Wayne?”
“And why would you suppose that?”
The man twitched at Batman’s chilly tone. “Well, lot’s of reasons. For one thing…”
Batman listened as the man listed several reasons why Batman was Bruce Wayne. Some of them were ridiculous.
“We have the same chin?” Batman laughed harshly.
Some of the reasons, though…
“… And of course the clincher was when my Amelia was delivering cookies.” The man seemed to have reached the end of his list.
“Cookies?”
The man nodded. “She told me that when she asked to see Bruce Wayne, and not just the butler, she was told that he was sleeping. What kind of man sleeps at three o’clock in the afternoon?”
Batman crossed his arms. “I won’t pretend to know anything about Bruce Wayne’s private life. Though it’s common knowledge that he stays up all night partying, so it would make sense that he would sleep during the day sometimes.”
“That’s what everybody’s told! But it’s a lie…”
The man rambled on. Batman, arms still crossed, snaked one arm to his side slowly, his fingers grasping a Batarang. He had been in here a long time-- An hour or more, he estimated-- And was concerned that Gordon would become restless. And if Gordon became restless, he might just take matters into his own hands.
Batman couldn’t allow that.
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 12:13:24 GMT -5
Dick glanced at the buildings as he passed them by, looking for the address Alfred had-- Grudgingly-- Given him.
“Aha!” Seeing the street he was looking for, he turned onto it. He spotted police cars, and got closer to them, looking for two men.
He spotted the first, and went for him.
“Gordon!”
Jim glanced at him. “Robin!” He walked up to him quickly. “Have you heard from Batman?”
Robin shook his head. “Nope. You haven’t, I guess?”
Gordon growled. “No! I’m giving him--" He glanced at his watch. “I’m giving him fifteen more minutes before I’m going in.”
“Wait. Don’t go in. I’m going to go in and see if he needs help first.”
Gordon frowned. “Batman told me that you didn’t ‘belong on this particular mission’.”
Robin scowled. “Well, Batman’s wrong. I’m going in. Keep everybody back.”
And with that, he strode up to the house and opened the door, slipping inside silently.
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 12:17:48 GMT -5
Batman carefully pulled the Batarang up out of the pouch… a centimeter at a time.
Across from him, Barbara looked pointedly at Batman’s hand, then looked straight into his eyes. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod.
Batman saw. She’s ready.
He slid the Batarang up a little more--
“HA!” Barbara’s kidnapper grabbed a pistol from beside him and pointed it straight at Batman’s head with one fluid motion.
Batman instinctively ducked and rolled to the side in a practiced motion, even as the gun turned past him to something behind Batman and to his right.
BANG!!!
Thump.
Realizing he hadn’t been shot and had a split second before the other man could shoot him, Batman got to his feet and quickly surveyed the situation.
Barbara was fine, though her eyes were wide with shock and horror. Her kidnapper was still looking past Batman, through the doorway. Batman turned to look, even as he wondered what the thump had been--
Even as he realized what it was.
“No!” Batman took a step toward Robin’s limp form, then wheeled around to where Jack, as Barb’s kidnapper had introduced himself, stood triumphantly.
“The bomb--!” Barbara said brokenly, still staring at Robin. The bright yellow shoulder of the boy’s costume was covered with dark red.
Batman no longer cared about the bomb. He dove towards Jack, bringing his arm up under Jack’s to knock the trigger from his fingers. Falling onto the floor, he brought his fist up, and smashed it into Jack’s right cheek. Jack spat out blood and a tooth.
Batman brought his fist down again… and again… and again. He dimly heard Barbara, sobbing and pleading with him. Bright lights flooded the room, and shouts filled the air, but he didn’t care.
Robin…
Someone tried to pull him off Jack, but he shrugged him off. A moment later two more officers joined the first, while a policewoman tried to drag the unconscious Jack out from under the Dark Knight. Gordon came over to Batman and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“The medics are going to examine Robin.” He paused. “Thank you,” he said, more quietly.
Batman nodded and stalked over to where Robin lay on the ground. Kneeling next to the boy, he gently rolled him over.
“Hi, Batman!”
Batman was stunned. “Robin?”
With a little difficulty, Robin sat up. “Miss me?”
“What’s the meaning of this?”
Robin glanced at his shoulder and winced. “I think I need Neosporin or something.”
Batman raised an eyebrow, though no one could see it beneath the mask. “Come on.”
Robin followed Batman out of the room until they reached the Batmobile. They climbed inside, though Batman didn’t start the car.
“Well?”
Robin swallowed. He’d known this would come, but that didn’t mean he liked it.
“Babs is my friend, Bruce. I had to come.”
“You disobeyed direct orders.”
Robin nodded.
“You were injured because of it.”
“Aw, c’mon, Bruce. It’s not that bad. I’ve looked worse after some bike wrecks! Remember when I was going down the hill that time and—“
Batman gave him the Batglare.
“That’s not the point,” Batman said. “I told you to stay back, and you disobeyed.” He looked around. “How did you get here, anyway?”
Robin scowled at him. “I saw what you did to my motorcycle… and my bike.”
“How did you get here?”
“By skateboard.”
Batman was shocked. “All the way from the Manor?”
“Yep.”
“Go get your skateboard.”
Robin glanced at him, then climbed out of the car to find his skateboard.
Alone, Batman shook his head. He watched the colorful young figure as it ran through the crowd and frowned. He should have been more thorough, should have known that Robin was just determined enough to chase the Batmobile down by skateboard.
Robin came back, skateboard in hand and tried to open the passenger side door. When it wouldn’t open, he looked confused.
Batman flicked a switch, and Robin’s window rolled down.
“C’mon, Bruce.” Robin said impatiently. “It’s getting cold out here!”
Batman gave him a sardonic smile. “Since you seem to like that mode of transportation so much,” he began, starting the Batmobile’s engine. Robin realized what he was getting at and began shaking his head hurriedly. “You can ride home by skateboard.”
“C’mon, Bruce-- I already had to ride all the way here and-- “
“Yes. You rode all the way here, and you can do it again.”
And with that, Batman drove off.
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 12:19:46 GMT -5
The next day, Bruce sat back in his chair, holding the phone.
“Well, like I was saying, when I saw the news this morning, I was shocked. That nut-- What’d you say his name was? Yes, that nut actually thought I was Batman? Haha, my butler thought that I was nuts when he came in and I was laughing at the news. In fact-“
Bruce spoke to the police for a few moments more, then hung up. He walked into the dining room where Dick was having his lunch.
“Well?” The boy said expectantly.
“Well,” Bruce began. “Jack Jackso has been committed to Arkham, at least until his trial. The whole city’s laughing at the idea of Bruce Wayne’s being Batman.”
Dick looked puzzled. “But you look so alike!”
Batman gave him a Look, then said, “The arraignment’s next week. We’ll see how it goes.”
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 12:23:44 GMT -5
A week passed before Bruce and Alfred pulled into the driveway, home from court. Dick ran out the front door to greet them.
“Well, wha’d the judge say?” The boy asked.
Bruce glanced at him as he headed up the Manor steps. “First of all, the judge declared him incompetent. Secondly… well, it’s going to take awhile for everything to get legal, but it looks like Jack’s going to be in Arkham awhile. Obviously, he’s insane.”
“No one thought of the possibility that you might actually be Batman?”
Alfred spoke up from behind them. “No, they didn’t seem to. I must say, Master Bruce put on quite a show-- If I didn’t know him, I’d never have believed that he was Batman myself.”
“Acted dumb again, huh?”
Bruce looked down at Dick. “I acted my part, Dick, as necessity called. As it is, I doubt that a single person in the court, with a couple of noted exceptions,” he said, waving a hand at Alfred, “believed that I was capable of being Batman.”
Dick nodded as they headed inside. “Well, I hate how you ‘have’ to act as Bruce Wayne, but as long as Babs is safe…” He shrugged.
Bruce nodded. “She’s safe. She suffered no injuries, according to Jim.”
“Good.”
“Dick.”
The boy turned to look up at him.
Bruce stared into his young face. “Dick, what happened could have been a lot worse. Next time I give you orders, you’re to follow them, is that clear?”
Dick grinned. “Who, me? Disobey?” He smirked. “Never.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Then I suppose you did that English paper?”
“Master Dick!” Came Alfred’s voice from somewhere in the Manor. “I specifically told you that you were not to play the Nintendo until you had finished that English paper!”
Dick flushed red and ran into the Manor, yelling for Alfred not to turn off the game in the middle of the level.
Amused, Bruce stood back and, letting all the stress of the week out, laughed.
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 12:25:54 GMT -5
"Wannabe, Part One"
by
Charles HoM |
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 12:26:53 GMT -5
They called him the Spook. Your generic superhero. Super strength, super durability. Energy discharges from the palms of his hands. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound and all that jazz. He thought himself more than a stand alone character, and sought out that group dynamic that would make him a complete person, but he had no luck with that.
He visited Las Vegas, stumbled upon the New Outsiders, who gently rejected his proposition of them teaming up. He said gently, but Huntress pointed her crossbow at his crotch and calmly growled: “Get the £$%^ out of my face before I £$%^ing castrate you.” He took that gentle rejection, and left the city as soon as possible.
His crotched ached a while after that.
He travelled to New York, and met the Teen Titans, who smiled condescendingly, and told him about the unofficial age restriction that their team imposed. It seemed that a hero in his early thirties had no place in a team full of former side kicks and teen heroes.
Nightwing told him: “It would give the wrong impression.”
He walked away then, clutching his cape tightly, and could have swore that he heard sniggering. But he thought nothing of it, and left New York soon after that. He felt good about himself for a while. He didn’t need a team to back him up, he thought. He could be a one man show, like Superman. Superman didn’t saddle himself with a team.
Superman could leap buildings in single bounds.
He then remembered the Justice League, but a chance encounter with The Flash put a stop to that idea. He had sighed a heavy sigh and tried thinking outside the box: Maybe he wasn’t cut out for the superhero business. Maybe he’d be more suited to being a villain. He pondered this for a while, as he prevented a crime nonchalantly, and then dismissed the thought. He had been raised by good people, lead a good life until his powers emerged. Why should he change? He had a responsibility to help the community. So he ignored his prior rejections, and continued to fight the good fight, whatever that was.
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Post by HoM on Mar 2, 2008 12:27:41 GMT -5
The rain poured down from the sky, icy rain that slashed at his face as he stood in the alleyway. Blood mixed with this cold shower, and pooled around on the concrete floor below. Smoke raised pathetically from a crater on the ground. The blood seemed to seek out this hole in the pavement, dribble it’s way from where it fell, and fill the hole until it could no longer be seen without actively looking for it. The streets were normally quiet at this time of the year. No frantic shoppers looking for a sale, no presents needed to be bought. It was the quiet respite between January sales and the inevitable Judeo-Christian holiday binge, and so the shops weren’t open till the late hours, and the people didn’t feel the need to empty their pockets of their wages. But either side of the alley was filled with people. Police had set up a cordon, and they didn’t look into the dark alley where the man stood observing the body. The rain had been pouring since the morning, and now it was late evening. “It’s him alright,” whispered the man, as he crouched down to examine where the corpse’s neck ended and the blood filled crater began. “The ‘wannabe’.” He had his radio in his hand, and a voice buzzed into his ear in reply: “Damn.” “I did you this favour, checking out these leads, what now?” The voice became deeper; “I’m saving you a lot of hassle. These cases are outside your experience. So I’m sending help.” Jason Bard grimaced as the rain felt like daggers against his cheeks. His long red hair was matted against his skull, and his beard itched over his jaw. He lent heavily against his cane, his knee throbbing in the icy cold. It always hurt in this weather. He didn’t know why he bothered coming out when it was like this. But he had been asked a favour by an old acquaintance, and so did as he was asked. That’s the kind of thing you did for old friends. “Am I going to be graced by the presence of the World’s Greatest Detective,” he replied with a slight grin. It was one of those audible grins, his words starting with a slightly chortle and ending with a sharp intake of breath. “No,” rumbled the voice. His friend hadn’t heard the humour. “Someone better.” This confused Jason Bard. “Who then?” “The solar system’s greatest detective,” hissed the voice, which then suddenly vanished from the line. Bard removed his earpiece, and looked on at the body. “He called himself the Spook,” whispered a new voice. “He attempted to join any superhero group active in America. He was rejected by all. Condition of the body, taking in consideration weather patterns, suggest he has been dead four hours.” Bard turned, and was surprised to see a strange creature rise up from the ground, a long flowing blue cape fluttering about his body. His green skin marked him as alien automatically, and his beetle brow hid two glowing red eyes. “I am J’onn J’onzz, and I will be your partner for this investigation.” “You don’t say,” stuttered Bard. To Be Continued |
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Post by HoM on May 17, 2008 12:42:08 GMT -5
Dial “H” For Hero [/i] Chapter One: “ Secret Origin” Written by David Charlton[/center] |
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Post by HoM on May 17, 2008 12:42:31 GMT -5
In the sleepy New England town of Fairfax, the bus from Hamilton High School traveled along leaf-dappled streets with names like Maple, Cabot and Chestnut, depositing various students at their stops as they waved to their friends still aboard, chatted on cell-phones, or listened--- oblivious to everything else--- to their iPods. Still on the half-empty bus, 15 year-old Chris King sat by himself, his book-bag on his lap, absorbed in his thoughts as other kids laughed and joked around him.
The young man with the shaggy blond hair and thick-lensed-glasses was small for his age, and too thin. He was always the last one chosen to be on a team at gym glass, and--- when he was noticed at all--- he was easily teased or bullied. Part of it had to do with the t-shirts he stubbornly insisted upon wearing: yesterday, he wore one with an ‘S’shield, and today he had on a red shirt adorned only with a thick gold thunderbolt.
“Get a load of Captain Marvelous,” Nick Stevens, the varsity-jacketed senior pointed out to his cronies as Chris boarded the bus, to titters and giggles.
“It’s Captain Marvel,” Chris retorted sullenly. He didn’t want to aggravate their attention, but there were certain things he just couldn’t let slide. His remark had been greeted with more laughter, and he took his seat, fuming. They soon found other things to amuse themselves, and forgot all about Chris.
They could make fun of him, he didn’t care; but they needed to treat the World’s Mightiest Mortal with the respect he deserved! Chris would have stuck up for any of his superhero idols, though, even Booster Gold. Some kids were fans of musical groups, and some followed sports teams: Chris King loved superheroes. He loved their bold stand against bullies and criminals. He loved their defiance against impossible odds, and their willingness to risk their own lives for others. He loved the wonderful powers and costumes and gadgets and catch-phrases…! All so removed from his mundane and slightly desperate life here in Fairfax…
They were his escape, as well. Everyday after school, he would rush to get home to his computer, and the small, but tight-knit online community that he belonged to called HEROES. He spent hours a day there, reading about the latest exploit of the Flash in Central City (a member with the username zipper89 lived there, and was a great source for news!), or discussing the relative merits of Batman’s brand of vigilantism compared to Green Arrow’s… Some of his fellow posters had even convinced him to join their effort to create fan fiction around their favorite superheroes--- Chris wasn’t even sure if he could pick a favorite! He found something to love about all[/b] of them!
The bus slowed towards Chris’ stop, and he was already thinking about the latest poll (“Is the Question of Hub City real or just an urban myth?”), when he was hit in the back of the head with a spitwad. He whipped around, glaring and aggrieved , his eyes finding the smirking face of Donald “Daffy” Dagan, a freckle-faced bully with spiky orange hair, Doc Marten boots and an old Ramones concert shirt. Daffy was the only kid in school with a tattoo, a lascivious-looking devil smoking a cigar, on his right bicep, which he kept hidden from his parents and teachers, but always made sure to show his fellow students. He stared back at Chris with an expression that said: “Yeah, what’re you gonna do about it…[/b]?”
The bus groaned and hissed to a halt at Chris’ stop, but he was saved from the need to respond from an unlikely quarter. Daffy’s girlfriend, rolled her eyes, stood up, and whacked Daffy upside his head. Fuming, she made her way up the bus, intending to get off early. Nick Stevens laughed at his best friend Daffy’s consternation, and forgotten now, Chris hastened to scurry off the bus behind the steaming Goth girl.
The bus pulled away, and Chris caught a glimpse at Daffy’s face through the window: he was scowling and holding up his fist. Great[/b], Chris thought, now it’s my fault he’s a jerk and his girlfriend hates him…[/b]
That girl was already headed down the sidewalk, walking in long strides, her pink Hello Kitty backpack the only splash of color in an otherwise unrelievedly black-clad figure. Feeling he owed her at least a thank you, Chris jogged forward to catch up to her.
“Hey,” he huffed, even that little bit of exertion forcing him to reach for his trusty inhaler. “Wait up. My name is Chris.”
The girl tossed back her straight black bangs and slowed her pace so he could catch up. She was very pretty, though she tried hard not to show it. She wore dark mascara and painted her fingernails black. Even her skirt was black-on-black plaid, as were her fishnet stockings--- though they were torn in a few places (strategically, Chris suspected).
“I know who you are, Chris. We’ve ridden the same bus all year, and you’re in my homeroom.” Her voice was slightly exasperated, but the corners of her mouth were slightly upturned in a smile.
“You’re Vicki Grant, right?” He asked, though he knew well enough she was.
“Everyone just calls me Vix.” She told him, then wrinkled her nose. “Look, I’m really sorry about Daffy. He can really be a douche bag sometime.”
Chris’ eyes went wide at her choice of words, and she laughed at his expression.
“The nuns at St. Brigit’s always said I had a smart mouth. One of the reasons they kicked me out of there,” she explained with an unapologetic shrug. “Well, that and the communion wine incident… Anyway, Daffy won’t bother you again.” She put her hand on his arm for a moment, then after a dazzling smile, she walked off.
Chris was taken aback. He stared at the spot she had touched, saw the flesh goosepimpling, and realized he was blushing.
All he could muster was a lame: “Thanks! Bye, Vix!” followed by furious waving. She waved back perfunctorily, though she did not turn around, and soon was out of sight.
He walked the rest of the way home, remembering the feel of her hand on his arm…
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Post by HoM on May 17, 2008 12:42:55 GMT -5
He was still riding the high when he logged onto HEROES that afternoon. There were a number of PMs waiting for him, but it was always his habit to check the latest member-posts before he opened and responded to his private messages. He scanned the latest news, catching up on the activities of America’s greatest superheroes. In Coast City, lanternlady reported a close encounter of the emerald kind. An experimental Ferris Aircraft jet with their new superstar pilot Hank Henshaw in the cockpit suffered engine failure over the city, and plunged towards the Kruger Arena during a Coast City Cyclones game against the Star City Astros, but luckily for the 35,000 in attendance, Green Lantern was on-hand to save the day. Lanternlady had seats behind first base and a clear view of the Emerald Gladiator as he shot up into the sky (having obviously been watching the game in his secret identity!) and summoned a giant green catcher’s mitt, bringing the plane down gently outside the stadium. She further went on to say that he stayed around for a few minutes afterward, signing autographs while Henshaw fumed (this was a bit of a disappointment for lanternlady, as she had developed a pet theory that Henshaw was GL). Batfan27 of Gotham City claimed to have spotted the Dark Knight Detective the night before as he drove his taxi-cab through Crime Alley. It was coming up on the hundredth time batfan27 made that claim, so most took it with a grain of salt. There was a link to a preview of a forthcoming interview Blue Beetle gave Vanity Fair[/i] magazine, complete with a few artful photos by Annie Leibowitz; a tribute video one member posted of his shrine to Starfire of the Teen Titans; and the latest installment of maskedman’s Justice Society of America[/i] Golden Age fan fiction serial. His mother was calling him down to dinner by the time he was finally caught up. “Be down in a minute, Mom!” He called back, and began opening his messages. He would at least look at them, and would respond if necessary later. The first was from zipper89 wanting to know if he wanted to join a new online HEROES RPG. Chris played the Atom in their last go-around, and had wound up getting himself squashed by Giganta, so he was eager to try again. Maybe he would try Black Lightning this time… The next PM was a general announcement of a regularly-scheduled chat session. Chris tried never to miss those, indeed he looked forward to connecting with people from all over the world who shared his obsessions. The last PM was from the site administrator, simply called the Monitor. The subject field was blank. This was unusual. HEROES had thousands of members worldwide, and Chris had never recalled getting a personal private message from the elusive--- and all-but-anonymous admin. He opened the message, addressed to ‘superfanboy', Chris’ username, and read, growing more confused and excited with every word. Because of your good posting history and spotless reputation on the site, in addition to your obvious commitment and respect for the ideals and mission of superherodom, you have been chosen to receive a special message reward. Simply click the link below to receive an activation code, then from any wireless phone dial “H” then the code! Good luck and have fun! ---- The Monitor. [/b][/i][/right] Good luck? [/i] That was an odd think to say. He had never heard of this. He wondered why nobody had mentioned it before… “Chris, you’re dinner is getting cold!” His mother’s voice floated up to him. “Just one more minute, Mom…!” He had to at least take a quick look at it. He clicked the link, which took him to a new page, upon which was--- in addition to the seven digit activation code--- what looked to be a drawing of a superhero! But it was no superhero that Chris was familiar with. This figure was dressed in a blue jumpsuit, with accents and fins in gold. On his chest was a jagged stylized lightning design, and the costume seemed to come equipped with a pair of goggles and a fin-topped head-covering. In big, cartoony letters, it read: “Captain Zapp!” Also, there were specifications off to the side listing the hero’s powers: Flight, emits and conducts static electricity, access to the electro-magnetic spectrum… On a whim, Chris grabbed his razor-thin cellular phone, flipped open the lid and dialed “H” then the activation code… |
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Post by HoM on May 17, 2008 12:43:34 GMT -5
Jessica King lost her patience and trudged upstairs; sometimes it was like pulling teeth to get her son away from that computer and his online activities! The door to his room was slightly ajar, and through the opening she saw the shadow of him moving about. “Christopher Eric King, when I call you down for dinner, I expect you to---.” She froze, gasping, and utterly stunned. Standing there, observing himself in front of the wall-length mirror, was a man in a shiny blue jumpsuit, adorned with metallic-looking gold fins, wearing goggles and some kind of pointed cap like an antenna. The air around the stranger sparked and sizzled, with bits of electricity crackling between the fingers of the outstretched hand Jessica had caught him studying. “Who--- who are you?” was all Jessica could manage in her distress. The man who had only a moment before been the teen-aged Chris King stared at his mother, then back at the mirror at his new reflection, then back at his mother, a wild smile on his face. “I--- I guess I’m Captan Zapp…!” To Be Continued |
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Post by HoM on May 31, 2008 8:20:25 GMT -5
Blue Beetle & Steel
In:
"Hank And Ted Grab A Cheese Steak"
by Chris Paugh |
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Post by HoM on May 31, 2008 8:21:05 GMT -5
Hank Heywood walked tall and proud across the main lobby of Powers Towers. Oberon was coming his way. He was wearing his fedora and little trench coat. (A look that Hank noted to himself never failed to get a giggle out of Booster.) He was rushed and carried a news paper and brief case.
“Hey, Oberon.” Hank said casually with a big friendly smile.
“What’re you so happy about?” Oberon’s reply caught Hank off guard, but he didn’t have time to say anything before Oberon shoved what he first thought was a newspaper into Hank’s hands. “Are you familiar with tabloids Hank?” Oberon asked, but continued before he could answer. “Well they are trash and guess what? Look at this front page. Show it to Ted and talk to him. I don’t have time, I have a…um…board meeting to get to.”
“Where is Ted?” Hank inquired.
“He is up in his lab. He’s been for there for hours today. Just like yesterday and the day before that and so on.”
“What’s he working on?”
“As far as I can tell he has just been slamming his fist on the table and saying ‘dammit’ …pretty much for weeks.”
“Okay.”
“Yeah. I gotta go, things to see and people to…see…or is it people to…whatever, I’ll see you Hank.” Oberon said and rushed out through the revolving doors, accidentally going around twice.
Hank looked down at the tabloid Oberon had given him. On the cover, there was a picture of Booster and Beetle at a strip club. Hank was about to read the article when he heard a small explosion from above and rushed to the top of the building.
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Post by HoM on May 31, 2008 8:23:55 GMT -5
Ted’s lab was coated in black soot and heavy smoke billowed out of the large windows that were open around the top of the room. Ted sat against the wall furthest from the main lab table. The area was filled with various test tubes, beakers and even fried lap tops that were all connected.
Hank came barreling in the door and looked around quickly. “Ted? Ted?!”
“It’s cool Hank. I’m over here.” Ted answered and then went into a miniature coughing fit.
Hank walked over and after eyeing up Ted for any serious injuries he sat down next to him.
“Hi, Ted.” Hank said smiling.
“Hey, Hank.” Beetle replied as he caught his breathe.
“So…what’re you working on?” Hank asked trying to be casual.
“I’m not sure exactly. But I think I used too much bleach.” He answered.
“Bleach?” Hank asked surprised.
“Bleach. Don’t ask.” Ted answered.
Hank pulled the tabloid from under his arm and handed it to Beetle. “Have you seen this?”
Ted looked at it for a second then slammed it down on his lap and said, “Dammit.”
“What happened, Ted?” Hank asked with sympathy in his voice.
“I was…Well, Booster thought…”
Hank interrupted him, “Booster asked you repeatedly and eventually you caved and went with him. Am I right?”
Ted smiled, “Yeah, when Looker left…he insisted it would cheer me up.”
“And how did that work out for you?”
“Not so much.” Beetle stated.
“Would you like to get some lunch, Ted?”
“You don’t eat…Do you?”
“It’s not vital, but I still enjoy the practice.” Hank answered and then stood up. Then he put his hand out for Beetle to get up. Ted looked up at him for a second then grabbed his hand and stood up.
“I’ll meet you downstairs, Hank. I’m going to clean up and put on regular clothes.”
Hank nodded and turned around to leave. As he did so his liquid metal body turned his Steele uniform turned into slacks and a button down shirt.
“I said regular clothes Hank.” Beetle said as Hank stood in the doorway. His clothing turned into a pair of blue jeans and a hooded sweatshirt with a 49’ers logo on the front.
Beetle laughed and went on his way as well.
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Post by HoM on May 31, 2008 8:24:10 GMT -5
Hank and Ted stood in front of the counter at the small sub shop they had chosen. Ted loved a good Philly cheese steak. Back in Central city they had some of the best anywhere. When the steel industry bottomed out in Philadelphia many of its citizens moved to Central City. The move caused a population swell and resulted in Central City having the aforementioned cheese steaks.
They looked up at the menu then down below it. There was a life size cardboard cut out of Booster Gold with a word balloon that read: Free Booster Gold action Figure with every kid’s meal!
“You have got to be kidding me. MTV still owns the rights to the reality show don’t they?” Ted asked Hank as he looked back up at the menu to choose a sand which.
“Yes.” Hank answered and frowned. ”Yes they do.”
“Philly Cheese steak, please.”
“Make that two.”
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Post by HoM on May 31, 2008 8:24:36 GMT -5
The pair of off duty heroes sat down at a corner booth.
“Ted, I am leaving the team for awhile.” Hank came right out with it. Turned out he actually had another reason for lunch. “I am going to Qurac to do some work. I was approached b y the U.N and accepted.”
“Oh…wow Hank that’s…big news. Where did that come from?” Ted replied awkwardly.
Hank looked around the dining area for a short moment then landed on the Booster cut out. “I want to do something that matters.”
“We already do something that matters. You lead the charge to rebuild the team, why would you leave? I mean, we’ve already lost half of the team. Harry won’t even wear the costume anymore, Josiah is still gone, Prysm is off world again, Booster is never around, Mr. Miracle comes and goes, Vapor and Looker are both gone. It’s like Gilligan’s Island without Ginger and Maryanne. Hank you are the heart, with out you…”
“I’m sorry Ted, but I have already made up my mind. I chartered a flight for oh-six-hundred tomorrow. I…have loved being on the team and it is not a permanent leave but it will last for some time.”
The two sat silently for a few minutes eating their cheese steaks. Each processing things in their own way. Ted broke the silence first. “Qurac, huh? “
“Yes. They’re doing some rebuilding after an earthquake.” Hank replied.
“That’ll be good for you Hank.” Beetle replied after a long pause.
“Thanks, I had hoped you would understand. What about you? Are you going to stick around?” Hank asked him.
“I don’t know. I like it here. But with everyone leaving and being so…spread out I may take some time off. All we have had to worry about lately is that crazy Oberan guy that was trying to take Oberon’s job.”
“He’s a strange man.” Hank interjected.
“He’s attacked the tower four times this month. I am not even sure how he successfully escaped from prison. He’s no Luthor that’s for sure.” Beetle said washing down the last of his sandwich.
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Post by HoM on May 31, 2008 8:25:09 GMT -5
Ted and Hank sat in front of Powers Towers on a bench in front of a large fountain. In the center of the fountain was a large statue with two figures on it. A policeman and a fireman, below them was an inscription that read: “ IN HONOR OF THE REAL HEROES.” The statue was something Hank had added to the schematics when the tower was rebuilt after the Apokolips Invasion. They both stared up at it. Everyone on the team had sat on that bench just looking up at the statue. There was something humbling about it for them. When you have been the places this team had been together it was sometimes hard to keep things in perspective. “You know Hank--” THROOOM! [/center] Captain Stingaree landed hard on the statue they had been looking at. Then, Booster came flying down from the top of the building. “Hey fellas.” Booster announced casually. “Harry and Oberon just caught this guy sneaking around the tower. He had one of your gadgets on him, Ted.” “Which one?” Ted asked as he pulled his hooded sweatshirt over his head revealing the Blue Beetle costume. Booster opened his mouth to answer but Captain Stingaree was way ahead of him and answered by pulling the trigger to the newest BB gun. The bright light stunned Booster and Beetle. When they regained their bearings Hank had already struck a solid blow knocking Stingaree strait into the lobby entrance of the tower sending glass and metal scattering. Mrs. Lipshitz the newest assistant from the temp agency went running out of the building and down the street. Booster and Beetle rushed in after Steel who was already inside. He had Stingaree by the collar of his costume. He brought down one big punch to the top of his head and he was out cold. “ Who is this guy?” Ted asked as him and Booster joined Steel in the lobby. “Captain Stingaree, the dude thinks he’s a pirate. New guy, he just wanted some tech. He thought this would be the place to steal it. That’s why I bitch-slapped him out of the tower. We can’t have villains thinking they can steal from us. Do you know how many collectors’ edition DVDs I have up there?” Booster replied. “How did you gather all that?” Ted asked staring at him blankly. “You know how these guys go on and on about their diabolical plans and blah blah blah.” Booster answered. Captain Stingaree started to stir. Booster leaned in and punched him again knocking him back out. Hank and Ted both glared at him. “Was that totally necessary?” “What?!” Booster asked indignantly. “I’m hungry. Anyone feel like grabbing a cheese steak. I know just the place." Hank and Ted exchanged a glance and laughed as Booster went out through the large hole in the front entrance. TO BE CONTINUED IN POWERS, INC. ANNUAL #1
THE FINALE: ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS... [/i][/center] |
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Post by mockingbird on Jul 28, 2011 13:38:21 GMT -5
To let us know what you think of this issue, please visit the letters page here!
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