A very nice opening to a mystery I'm looking forward to see unfold! The Face seems like he's got the quintessential old school comic book origin and it works for the universe you've teased so far in this chapter. Is this a brand new work or is it tied to other stories you've written?
To be fair and balanced, I enjoyed it, but the dialogue was a bit stiff, it didn't flow as naturally as I would have liked, and there were some punctuation errors that drew me out of the story, but all in all, a new universe, a new adventure, and I'll keep my eye out for the next instalment. Thanks for sharing!
The lights went out. Deathstroke, the Terminator could hear the static sting of a scrambling device, and went low on instinct. The attack didn't come. He slowly drew his blade from its sheath, and he rose up, moving through the darkness of the landing bay that was situated inside the Society's Hub City base of operations. "Very well played." He focused his abilities to their outer limits, and smiled as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle up. "I sincerely didn't see this coming."
"That was the idea, Wilson--!" The Guardian, clad in the blue and yellow of his uniform, emerged from the shadows, shield in hand, and threw a punch that should have sent Deathstroke flying, but was dodged.
Jim Harper vanished again into the darkness, and Slade again focused his being. "We've been tracking you criminals down for a long time." Wilson couldn't tell where Harper's voice was coming from, and suddenly found himself against the wall of the bay. His gloved fingers moved slowly against the surface. "And you're going down, I can promise you that."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, old man," replied Deathstroke, as he pulled off his mask, relishing the cool air on his face. "It's embarrassing."
Secret Society of Super-Villains
Issue Six: The Underground
Part Six (of Six): “Damages”
Written by Charlie Wilkins
Cover by Ramon Villalobos
Edited by Alex Vasquez
A Secret Location:
<It is time.> The words echoed through the complex, the heavy metal walls causing the vibrations to be sent up and through every room. <Prepare the data procured from STAR Labs. Synch coordinates with the Boom Tube. It. Is. Time.>
Catman pulled himself off the bunk, clutching his ribs. "Time for what?"
The Voice replied slowly. <It is now no longer your concern, Thomas.>
"It is my concern. The last gig you sent us all out on? We nearly got taken down by the League. You were supposed to plan these things! We're supposed to be unstoppable! They were never supposed to be a £$%^ing factor!"
"Blake." A heavy hand found Catman's shoulder, and Blake turned to see John Corben staring down at him. "Don't shout."
"What the £$%^ are--" Catman was pushed down onto the bunk, one hand around his throat, the other palm open and slowly clicking open as Metallo activated his internal weapon systems. "
What the £$%^ are you doing, Corben?"
"You got £$%^ on, Blake," Corben said slowly. "You're hurting. You aren't up for this. Take your medicine, get up to scratch, and then come shouting for a fight. Until then--" Corben moved his head close to Blake's. "--Don't be an idiot."
"I'll kill you," growled Blake, struggling under the cyborg's grip. “Now or later, you’ll die.”
Corben released his grip, and then turned away from Catman. "Too late, Blake. I'm already dead."
Catman held his neck, his costume creased where Corben's hand had held him tight. "Really? 'Cause you ain't dead enough for me. Not yet, anyways."
<Ignore him, John. He's not the one I need right now.> The Voice spoke directly into John's head, and Metallo didn't mind one bit. <I need you, John. Throughout it all, I've needed you.> In fact, he was starting to care less and less about things as the minutes passed...
Meanwhile:
"Deep cover." Steve Trevor, White King of Checkmate was speaking, and as such, when he speaks, people listened. He was addressing Hawkman, The Question, Adam Strange, Green Arrow, Stripe and Blue Beetle. He was flanked by his Knight, Paul Kirk, aka Manhunter, and they were in a mobile Checkmate spider-hole. "Jim Harper has been under deep cover for months now. We created an identity for him to put Deathstroke off guard, the 'Ravager' persona was keyed to create certain reactions in Slade Wilson. And with help of Metropolis' Special Crimes Unit, We staged The Guardian's death using a stand in, and set up 'Ravager' with the Rogue credentials required to go up and up in the underground."
Adam Strange nodded slowly. "I can corroborate that. Some of the technology used for the Ravager armour is a cargo cult version of the Rann hard-light weaponry. Part of an agreement made between the United Nations and Rann itself."
"Yeah? And how come I haven't seen people flying around in jet-packs across the world then, Adam?" said Green Arrow, as he shook his head. "I can only guess where the schematics for your tech have ended up." He shrugged. "I'm leaving, got places to be. Good luck with your operation, but I don't see any reason for us to stick around. Pat?" Pat Dugan smiled at the other heroes, and nodded at Steve Trevor, before he and Green Arrow left the base.
"What's this all about then?" asked Blue Beetle, as he looked to the others.
The Question took off his hat. "My turn for exposition. We knew of the Society. There have been groups-- organizations-- of this type in one form or another since before even the Justice League/America debacle a while back, but it was Lex Luthor and his kin that invaded the Hall of Justice, and were running circles around the League during that event. Soon after that I picked up word and whispers of Injustice, Unlimited.. Thanks to these two organisations, the smaller Rogue groups vanished, relatively, these organizations absorbing them. The only large super-villain groups active now are this... 'Society'... and Injustice, Unlimited. But we’re not talking about IJ. They aren’t all bad, and we know they’ve assisted the League out on occasion. We’re talking abut the Society…” The Question paused, and cleared his throat. Blue Beetle could tell this was difficult for him, but the faceless-vigilante continued none the less. “They were operating out of Hub City, they were causing trouble, and I asked Wonder Woman for help in taking them down. She got in touch with the White king over there--" he motioned to Steve Trevor, "--and informed me of an ongoing investigation that Checkmate was undertaking. I was reluctant at first to share information, but it was a necessary evil."
"Yes, Question. We're all aware of your feelings toward the American government," scoffed Manhunter. "I thought you would have grown out of that by now."
"Not the American government, Manhunter," snapped Question. "All governments. Anyway, with Hub City being their base of operations, I had to get help. With the League restructuring after the Black Sun incident, I didn't think a shock-and-awe operation was needed."
"I think what The Question is trying to say is," said Steve Trevor, "Checkmate provided the finesse required to shut these guys down."
"Harper informed me of his progress in the air above STAR Labs,” Adam Strange said, after he cleared his throat. “That's why we were out of the fight; Harper's armour was dumping a load of information into my own armour. I contacted Hawkman through his helm communication systems, and he took the fall necessary to let the Society get out, and for Harper to keep his cover."
"And this was all in an effort to track down The Society's home base?" asked Blue Beetle.
Steve Trevor nodded. "Yes, well, we know they're somewhere in Hub City, but that place is a labyrinth of secret underground sewer passages and the like. With Harper's help, we were going to open up a direct link with said base and our forces, and take it by force."
Ted Kord nodded slowly. "So why are we still here?"
"Warp doesn't show up on the satellites," said The Question, "and wherever they've gone is so heavily shielded that need Harper to activate his emergency beacon. If he hasn't..."
"... Then it means we lost a good soldier," finished Steve Trevor, shaking his head. "But I have faith in Jim. He’s been at this war for longer than any of us, and if anyone can get out of a tight spot, it's him."
Hub City:
The Guardian and Deathstroke were testing each other. Blow after blow was thrown, shield clashed against sword and vice-versa. But whilst no quarter was given, there was no clear winner so far. It was a dance for them, a test, and as such, they did so with smiles on their faces.
Harper paused for a moment, stopped his attack, and instead went back to circling his opponent. "You're good, kid."
Deathstroke smiled. "S'been a long time since I was called kid, Guardian. Can't say I like it."
"Then I apologize. Not right to insult your opponent, I don't think. Never liked that kind of banter. I figure, I'm going to put you in the ground, you don't need to go down hearing me insult your mother."
"Yeah, if you brought my mother into it, I'd stop this game and go for your throat. You wouldn't be able to stop me."
"I'm not built to be a coward, Guardian. They don't call me kinda-Deathstroke, the kinda-Terminator, do they? I wasn't built to lose."
The Guardian smiled. "But you weren't built, were you, Wilson? You were doped into existence, with adrenal gland stimulants that have played havoc with your system."
Wilson shrugged, and then leveled his sword at Harper. "So you read my file? Is that it?" he took a cigarette from his belt and placed it in his mouth. "'Scuse me." He then lit a match, and put it to the cigarette. "Mm. Am I right? Are you a fan, Guardian?"
"Not a fan. But I have followed your career, with acute interest."
Deathstroke smiled, the cigarette clinging to his lips tightly. "Alright, you've piqued my curiosity: Why?"
"Because I was the first, Slade. And you were the second."
A Secret Location:
<It started when Kanjar Ro brought Thanagar to its knees with his so-called 'Gamma Gong'. I would like you to understand why I am doing this. What it is I-- we-- seek to accomplish.>
"Continue then, please," said John Corben, as Lex Luthor-- still under the complete control of the Voice-- fitted the metal man with another suit of protective armour, ready for the journey ahead of him.
<Thank you, the Gamma Gong is constructed from Nth metal. It was brought back to Earth by the Justice League, to ensure that it was kept away from any so-called 'villain' that might want to use it for his or hers own ends. But bringing it here bridged the worlds of Thanagar and Earth.>
Lex Luthor turned away from John Corben, and then went toward a mess of wires and cables, all strung up to the Boom Tube machine that the Society stole from Injustice, Unlimited. He began to type, to input data, and the machine began throbbing to life.
<The Boom Tube is needed to bring me back. I had the Justice League in the palm of my hand. I would have destroyed them. They won by luck, and luck alone, and now, John, I have an army to command. When I come to Earth, not even Deathstroke or any others will be able to resist my psychic presence. If I am able to speak to the 'villains' of the world due to the presence of the Gamma Gong, then imagine what it would be like to witness my immensity... in the flesh?>
"The Boom Tube is ready for activation, sir," said John Corben.
<The Boom Tube matrix was broken though. Leaking data. When we retrieved it, it was obvious that we would need more than just what remained inside its dying circuits to complete the journey. I sent Parasite to absorb information from Senator Callahan, because he had access to STAR Labs' top-secret locations. We knew that they were working with the Justice League to map the universe, and so, with their help, we had a straight line from here to Thanagar. I must remember to thank that Hawk-Knight for his assistance.>
BOOM!
<Go forth, John. You know what to do.> And with that, Metallo stepped through the open Boom Tube, and travelled across the universe--
Hub City:
"What are you trying to say?" Deathstroke no longer cared about the dance. He leaped at The Guardian, and drove his sword down, but Harper deflected the blow with his shield, and pushed the Terminator back across the room.
"America's super-soldier program. Don't tell me you didn't hear the urban legends from the Second World War. The Germans tried to pour the occult into their greatest soldiers. The Russians attempted to use black-science to make theirs, and the Japanese attempted to harness honest, handmade technologies to create theirs. They were all failures though, in their own ways. They couldn't harness the processes to mass-make an army of super-powered soldiers."
"Every soldier working special-operations has heard the stories. But I was just a guinea pig, I wasn't part of any--"
The Guardian interrupted, kicked Deathstroke in the face and sent him sprawling. "Eye open, soldier. You're better than that." Harper went to press his advantage, but Wilson pushed back, and his sword dug deep into Guardian's body armour. "Hh. Good. But Wilson, you think they'd tell you if you were part of a top secret program to build better war machines?"
"I can see where you're coming from," said Wilson, slashing and cutting, sparks flying as his blade connected with the shield, "but frankly, I don't care."
"I know you wouldn't. But we're different. You were made with drugs. Typical modern day approach. Sure, I had all kinds of chemicals pumped into my veins. I was a cop before all this-- a beat cop that had his own streets to patrol, but when my government came calling, I dove head first into whatever they needed me to do. And so they made me better. Artificial hormones were poured into me. Highly durable, way-before-their-time plastics were inserted beneath my skin. I don't know how they did it back then, and how they completed the process-- or I survived-- but I've been walking around ever since with the ability to do one thing--"
"And what would that be?" asked Deathstroke.
"Kick bastards' asses."
The Guardian punched Deathstroke in the face. Wilson grabbed the fist without blinking, even as it became covered in his own blood. "My ass hasn't been kicked yet." Deathstroke drove his blade through The Guardians' hand, and then grinned. "You strike me as the honest sort, Harper. So I'm going to believe you. But the thing is, you ain't ever fought anyone like me before. You think you're unkillable? If I can die, so can you--"
"Our healing abilities? I think we both know we can come back from anything. Last Checkmate heard from you, you were shot point blank out of a plane-- in air. You fell hard, Deathstroke, and I still think you're running on fumes."
"You'd be wrong." Deathstroke brought his sword forward, slicing through the Guardian's hand, and causing him to scream. "You’re old. You’re an old man and an old model, and I'm better in so many ways. You should retire. I should cut your head off, and see if you can come back from that."
"Try me, boy." The Guardian held his injured hand against his chest, and barreled straight into Deathstroke's chest, shield first. Wilson's sword clattered out of his hand, and Harper kicked him hard in the ribs, sending a shard of bone against Slade's lung. "Because you're right, I am old. I've been doing this for nearly a century, and I'll keep doing it until punks like you are locked up or six feet under."
"Ahh, haaaa," wheezed Wilson, as he kicked up into Harper's chest, and catching the gash in the Guardian's hand. "We... seem to be... at a bit of an impasse."
The Guardian grunted, and shook his head. "No we don't, Wilson. Surrender… Or I take you down."
"I’m too proud for that. I knew this assignment would get me hurt. You're right, by the way. I’m still hurting from that beating Deadshot gave me. And you know what? It gave me a whole new outlook on life. Lying on a beach, fishing bullets out of your stomach with a blunt knife and no anesthetic just so you can heal-- well aware that sea water keeps lapping into your wounds-- that's the kind of thing that puts this £$%^ into perspective."
"Surrender."
"No. Die." Deathstroke took a small device from his belt and pressed it. The entire complex began to shake. "Now, I did you a favour. I jammed all outgoing signals barring this one. I wanted to hurt you ever since you swaggered into our lives, 'Ravager'. I'm not going to take down scores of good men just for petty revenge. I've just unjammed the signals, and now your bosses have your location. The problem is, unjamming signals activates the self destruct that's been running in the background during this little dance we've had. So you need to run."
"You'll die as well--!" snapped Harper.
"No, I won't, because I've got a teleporter on my side."
"Ah, dat would be my cue, oui?" Warp popped his head out of a portal, and the Guardian snarled, even as Deathstroke was pulled through, and reality popped as the hole closed.
"Dammit," said Harper, looking around. He activated his communication systems, and Steve Trevor's voice suddenly came alive in his ear.
"What’s going on, Harper? What’s the good word?"
"The whole place is falling down on top of me, White King, I need instant evac. Do you have my location?"
"We're sending our man in!" replied Trevor.
As if on cue, a teenage boy, clad in red and blue and grinning from ear to ear popped into existence beside the Guardian, and gave him a thumbs up even as Harper shook his head. "Split, they really pushed the boat out didn't they?"
"Don't you know it, boss-man! Let's get you out of here--!"
A Secret Location:
Warp and Deathstroke appeared in the new base of operations of the Society, and Wilson didn't waste a moment. "Where is he?"
Catman limped toward the Terminator, and pointed down the hallway. "Corben was acting weird; The Voice is moving toward his big end game, whatever that is. I don't know what, but I know where they went."
"Disaster is being seen by the Crime Doctor. He got beaten to £$%^. Toyman is already rebuilding himself. One of his arms just up and went at himself, picking together the bits and pieces to sort out the problem." The two of them were now hurrying down the winding metal corridors, leaving Warp to his own devices, muttering to himself in French. "What's going on?"
Deathstroke continued following Catman for a while, before saying anything. "I lied about this whole thing, Blake,” Wilson said, finally. “Being here wasn’t for the ‘secret society’. It wasn’t for the money The Voice was paying, and you should know that I don't care about the camaraderie or any of the bull£$%^ he was spewing. I'm on a different assignment entirely."
Catman didn't blink; instead, he continued leading Deathstroke, until they reached a huge pair of metal doors. "Here." He turned. "Why are you telling me?"
"Why not? Trust has to start somewhere. Through here?" Deathstroke grunted, and felt the solid steel doors. "We’re not getting through here."
"Maybe I could help?" Toyman staggered into view, swaying from side to side. "Sorry about my somewhat embarrassing movements, but my equilibrium is shot. Such a shame, I had developed such a wonderful way of walk about me..." The robot's chest cavity folded out, and an explosion of glittere shot out against the door, before settling to the floor. There was a long silence.
"Misfire?" offered Deathstroke.
"Nano-dust. It's currently working its way through the lock mechanism, until, until, until--!"
The doors shrieked open. Catman drew his knives, and Toyman collapsed to the ground, the effort too much for his damaged body. Deathstroke looked to the fallen robot, and then drew his sword. "Good soldier."
Catman and Deathstroke entered the massive laboratory, and Slade Wilson immediately saw Lex Luthor, emaciated, pale and gaunt, standing in front of the open Boom Tube. "That's Lex Luthor--!"
"I know, Blake. He's why I'm here." Deathstroke approached Luthor, and then looked back to Catman. "He hired me the first time he ever heard of me and my reputation. We set up a system. If he fails to contact me after a set period of time, I have to come find him. It was in case Superman got a bit too gung-ho, or another one of his peers got a bit jealous and tried to wipe him off the map. He paid me an extra ten million for a revenge clause. I kill whoever crossed him."
"You're serious."
"This is a serious business. He didn't make the call. I came looking. Trail lead me to the Society, and I insinuated myself into The Voice's upper echelons. I figured out The Voice's deal pretty quickly-- he's a psychic. You operate on a different level of thinking, so do I, so did Ravager. Toyman's a robot. That's why we had laptops brought to us by Mr. Blink, whenever The Voice needed to communicate. The others? They had psychic projections or voices spoken directly into their minds."
"Jesus..." Catman shook his head, and then looked at the open Boom Tube. "What's that?"
"I'm guessing that whoever's on the other side of that Boom Tube is the bastard that set us all up for this fall." Deathstroke was rummaging through his pouches, and finally took a device that folded out into a wire-strewn crown. "Luthor gave this to me. Just... in... case." Wilson placed the crown over Luthor's head, and then stepped back. "Now, according to what he told me, this'll either free of him any brainwashing, or fry his mind. He didn't want anyone else using it for their own ends."
Luthor blinked slowly. He blinked twice more after that. "Hhff." He fell to his knees, and clutched his head as the crown sang an ultrasonic tune into the world. Catman growled, his ears piqued to attention, and Deathstroke just watched. "Tthh..." Luthor looked around. "Thh..." Deathstroke's eyes met Luthor's. "Thank you, Slade."
Slade smiled, and put out his hand. "My pleasure, Mr. Luthor. You know my fee."
Lex Luthor pulled himself up with the help of Deathstroke, and then looked to the Boom Tube projector. "Oh, no."
"What is it?"
"Metallo could already be there. The science of the New Gods is one I have yet to take time to master. But if I'm not too late--" Luthor was a wonder to watch at work. He took pieces of machinery from throughout the lab, and then constructed a device that neither Wilson nor Blake knew the purpose of. "He held me in mental thrall. You don't seem to understand the immensity of the threat that this thing poses--"
"Who is it, Luthor?" asked Deathstroke, urgently. "Who is The Voice?"
Thanagar:
John Corben blasted through the rich Nth metal ore that he had landed on top of. The metal screamed under the kryptonite induced punishment it was receiving. Massive chunks of the metal flew every-which-way, until finally, the man-- the alien-- behind the curtain was revealed.
The purple monstrosity clambered out of his Justice League induced prison, his massive clawed hands allowing him to easily scale the cavern that had been revealed and pull himself outside. He put out his alien hand to take Metallo's, and his mouth, full of needle-sharp teeth when he smiled, opened wide: "Good work, John. Now, let us journey back to Earth, and to my new kingdom."
"I don't think so, Despero." John Corben grinned from ear to ear. His chest laser grew in size, all the shards of kryptonite in his body sliding into place to form a massive lens. "You shouldn't have come after me, alien. I don't take too kindly to it."
"That's not your..." Despero's three eyes opened wide, and Corben's chest beam caught him in the face, purple flesh scouring off muscle and bone, and causing Despero to scream. "--Luuuuthorrr!"
"In mind, if not in person. You thought me in your thrall? Even under your mental control, I allowed myself to construct Metallo's new body to my specifications. Including, of course, an emergency override." Metallo turned, and began to sprint toward the open Boom Tube, and then dove for it. Despero's eyes opened wide. He didn't want Thanagar-- he wanted Earth, he wanted his revenge! His massive body began to move toward the portal, his size belying incredible speed, and then he reached the Tube, leaped through and entered the event horizon--!
A Secret Location:
Metallo hit the metal floor hard, and his body careened across until he hit the far wall. "He's coming through, Luthor!" shouted Catman, seeing Despero appear in the distance of the portal.
"That's the idea," said Luthor, before he pressed another button on the Boom Tube projector, and the tunnel vanished from sight. "Aaaand goodnight, you alien bastard."
Catman slowly approached the twitching body of Metallo, and climbed on top of him, pressing his heels down on his chest. “Not yet, robot, but soon, when you’re back and operational? I’m going to cut you into little metal bits, and I’m going to send them to all the corners of the globe. And you ain’t even going to be able to stop me?” Blake moved close to Corben’s face, and grinned maliciously. “You understand me?”
John Corben said nothing, his systems requiring complete reboot. Catman climbed back off him, and then headed toward the other two Rogues, contented at his actions for the time being.
Deathstroke's eyebrow slowly rose, and he returned to the subject at hand. "Where'd you send him, Luthor?"
"Far and away. The League was weak. Nth metal is good for insulating against psychics, but the Gamma Gong allowed him a presence on Earth… albeit a weak one. If it were me, I would have put him down then and there. If it weren't for us, the entire planet would have been under his control within, say, a month."
"Does that make us the good guys?" said Catman, sheathing his knives.
Lex Luthor laughed, and patted Catman on the back. "Oh, Mr. Blake! I'm always the 'good guy'. It's the Justice League and their allies that are the villains of this piece. They blunt our awareness of threats, our ability to combat them, and then expect us to follow them blindly? I do not approve. I do not approve one bit."
"So, what now?" asked Deathstroke, as he lit up another cigarette. "You headed back to Metropolis?"
"I have nothing left for me there. My company is in ruins, dragged into the dirt by Pete Ross and his ilk. No, I seem to remember there being a Society of sorts all around us, one full of mutually-minded-individuals. I think we could be great, my friends. What do you say, Slade? Are you going to stick around?"
Deathstroke shrugged, and walked out of the lab. "You have my number. But I don't have any reason to stick around for the time being. If you have a problem regarding The Guardian though, do give me a call. I wouldn't mind beating him to death in the near future."
"The Guardian...?" repeated Catman, "but I thought he was dead?"
Deathstroke turned. "No one is as they seem, Blake. Remember that. You’re a mean sonofabitch, I trained you well. Luthor, you'd be good to keep him working. He's a solid bastard if I ever saw one. Ravager was a Checkmate plant. You might have some problems with the ol' US of A in the coming weeks. And don't forget Injustice, Unlimited. Despero pissed them right off."
"All things that can be rectified, Deathstroke."
Alarms began to blare. Deathstroke vanished from the laboratory, and could be heard shouting Warp's name, and calling for his attention in the Frenchman's native tongue. "What's that alarm mean?"
Lex Luthor removed his lab-coat, and then looked at his Despero-induced state of disheveled disarray. "Hhuh. The Voice has been using a number of very special LexCorp bunkers for Society goings-on. That means that the sensors have detected radio transmissions in the atmosphere that are hostile to this location. We've been located--!"
Meanwhile...
"Don't think to track our location," the recorded voice said, "We’re bouncing our signal through all kinds of software. No, you'd be wasting precious time and breathe if you cared about who we are. I think what's important are the coordinates that are now in your servers, Checkmate. We find a hole a few months back. You might want to seal it. Don't worry, it's nothing malicious. We just thought you'd like to know the location of the Society that's been causing you all kinds of trouble."
"And that's the whole message?" asked Steve Trevor. "And we can't track the source?"
"Appears so, sir," said one of the operators in front of the White King. "I've brought the location up on the main screen."
"That's an old LexCorp site, isn't it? Something was going to be built there until Luthor's fall from grace." Steve Trevor rapped his fingers across the desk in front of him. "That bastard... it's underneath! Ready the troops, we're going in hard, and we’re going in fast." He turned to Adam Strange, Hawkman, Blue Beetle and The Question. "You want in on this?"
"Totally," said Blue Beetle. Hawkman simply cracked his knuckles behind him.
Elsewhere:
"Why dirty our own hands, if a bit of information brokering will do?" Ira Quimby smiled. "Checkmate can do our dirty work, and they'll remove the Society from our list of woes for the time being. Now, we can continue to reinforce our foundation and foothold in the world."
"It's good to have you back, Ira," said Temple Fugit, as he checked his watch. "Checkmate has teleporters. They should be there round about... now."
"Good luck to our brothers-in-sin," said Ira, as he raised his glass to his comrades. "To Injustice, Unlimited! And to the world!"
Finally...
FFFFFZZZZZAAAKKKKK!
Catman was dazed, and looked up to Lex Luthor as the genius smiled. Blake was still on the ground, his head spinning, whilst Luthor was on his feet, and surveying the scene. "What was that?"
Lex turned immediately to his comrade, and smiled knowingly. "Mass matter transit. The foundations of the bunker are laced with cargo cult technology that work as a teleport grid in time for those awkward emergency exits." Lex then looked back around, and saw dozens of super-villains, all dazed and confused. He checked his watch, and began to think outloud to the confused Blake. “I think I have time in my schedule for a grass-roots campaign toward world domination. And what better place to start than here? It's time for a new beginning, Catman. I'll need someone at my right hand side, of course, and you come highly recommended. Join me?"
Catman smiled, and nodded, flanking Luthor as he approached the crowds.
"First, a speech for the masses, and then secondly, we need to talk to the residents of this island, and the man that rules it with an iron fist."
Blake bristled in the staid heat of their new location, and then asked the question that had nagged at him since their unorthodox arrival in this new locale. "Where are we, anyway?"
"Questions, questions, questions, Catman! We're in Santa Prisca. The worst place on Earth. And from here, we're going to save the world from itself--!"
@impurestcheese: Argh, I hate it when that happens. You can proofread until your eyes bleed but typos always find a way to sneak through. Doesn't help that I went through three editors on this book and they got progressively worse as the arc went on! Ah, excuses, excuses, but next issue is the conclusion of the first arc! Exciting times!
“Ravager, that you?” Lyle Goggins, the sub-par ‘super’-villain known as ‘The Eye’ peered through the doorway of the dank room that he and his other Z-lister comrades had commandeered. They would claim, to the other lowlifes, that ‘commandeered’ was what they had done, but in reality, they were at the bottom of the food chain, mere cannon fodder-- this room was one they had found not in use. The well lit rooms, the grand halls that Deathstroke and the others used… they were elsewhere. And they were happy with that. The further away from the Headline-Rogues the better. Less chance of being roped into some kind of crazy scheme that ended up with them being a bit edgier, a bit darker, a bit more dead.
“Maybe,” replied Ravager, as he entered the room that The Eye was inside. “Poker?”
Lyle looked at the other Rogues around the table, the cards, the chips, the open cans of beer, and then stuttered a reply. “Y-yeah, umm, you want to play?”
“With you? No offense, Lyle Goggins, but your metahuman ability is it to read bodies. If you weren’t such an inept so-and-so, you’d be a deadly combatant. As you are, you’re just a pawn. But I’m guessing you play one hell of a hand of poker.”
Goggins couldn’t help but smile. “…You’ve heard of me?”
The Ravager was looming over The Eye now, his metallic armour belying nothing. The Eye was shaking. He was used to seeing everything, every insecurity, every possible action, and right now… The Ravager was a blank slate. “The Guardian took you down hard in Metropolis nine months ago. What, did the Society break you out? Put you to good use? They use you to wheedle out the traitors and the liars.”
“Don’t be so hard on the guy,” said one of the other poker players. “We’re all on the wrong side of the law, Ravager, no need to put yourself on the wrong side of the wrong side, you know what I mean?”
Ravager turned at this new player, and nodded slowly. “I wouldn’t play poker with you either, Mind-Eater. What, this a cheaters-game?”
Mind-Eater leaned forward. “It’s not cheating if you’re all cheating. We’re the psychics of the Society, the readers and the watchers. And we’ve all wanted to get a piece of you. Guys like Deathstroke, they've got mental walls erected by sheer force of will. You don’t see anything he doesn’t want you to see.”
“Yeah,” muttered another villain, a woman this time. “My mind was drifting late one night, and I think Deathstroke was meditating, pushing all his violent, dirty thoughts out into his outer-consciousness. I caught a mind full. Nightmares for a week after that.”
“I had to lobotomise her,” chuckled Mind-Eater. “A minor bit of psychic surgery, but one you can appreciate if you’re in our position.”
“If I was, I’m sure I could. Mind-Eater. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Oh, yeah?” said Mind-Eater, leaning back in his chair. “Am I world-renowned? I mean, you’re one of The Voice’s ‘inner circle’ of stone-cold bastards, aren’t you? I must be in the big leagues if you’ve been looking for me.”
“Something like that. Do you recognise this?” Ravager swung his arm up, and a loud clang echoed down the corridors as the Guardian’s shield landed on the table, in the middle of their cards and their chips and their beers.
“That’s…” Mind-Eater grinned. “That’s The Guardian’s shield. That sonofabitch made my life a living hell in Metropolis. So, it’s true? You killed him? You killed that @#$&-head?”
Ravager said nothing for a lingering moment, before looking around at the other players. “Something like that,” he moved to sit beside Mind-Eater, and took a place at the table. Motioning to the shield, and then to the chips everyone had in front of them, Ravager said one more thing before silence overcame them once more. “Deal me in.”
Secret Society of Super-Villains
Issue Five: The Underground
Part Five (of Six): "VILLAINS"
Written by Charlie Wilkins
Cover by Steven Howard
Edited by Alex Vasquez
Hawkman was stood behind the main computer operator. Star charts were being pulled up, and every now and then, Katar Hol would grunt, and point at a constellation, or planet. “There. And then…” he pressed his finger to the screen, and dragged the image across, until they were in another sector of space. “…Home.”
“Thanks, Mr Hawkman, sir,” said the operator. “This is all coming along very nicely!”
“Glad to help,” grunted Hawkman, as he looked to the other men behind him. “So, Green Lantern uploaded the universal space sector structure into the computers?”
“That was last month,” said Adam Strange, as he typed something into a console. “We’re mapping the universe, one sector at a time. We thought it best to start with what we knew.”
Hawkman nodded slowly. “And let me just ask again, so I’m sure. You’re staying on Earth for the time-being to help out?”
Adam Strange straightened up, and grinned. “I am Rann’s official ambassador to Earth. And Alanna thought I could use time on Earth, to reacquaint myself for the role. I’m back at the UN next week, and then I’m catching a Zeta Beam back home. Being a man-of-two-worlds is hard work.”
“Isn’t it just,” said Hawkman slowly. “But we try our best, don’t we?”
“Indeed we do, Katar,” replied Adam, patting the Hawk-Knight on the back. “So, we’ve got to wait for this data to upload, so we’re sure, and then we’ll have the sector plotted to perfection. Spiraling away from '2814' was a solid idea—though I don’t think the scientific community appreciates that Earth’s home sector is so far down the line. But what’s the point of shifting something that’s so intrinsic to the universe for vanity’s sake?”
“It’s what I never understood about ‘Earth-One’,” came another voice, as Blue Beetle entered the laboratory. The main computer operator gulped, and tried to continue at his work without embarrassing himself. This was becoming a regular cape show… “I mean, who are we to say that we’re ‘Earth-One’? The guys over at ‘Earth-Two’ must feel like they took the short straw, you know?”
“Beetle, what are you doing here?” asked Adam Strange, scratching his forehead.
“Ah, that was me, I’m afraid,” said Hawkman, almost smiling. “It’s League Poker night. It’s my turn to organize the venue, and, well, I didn’t want to disappoint our friends at STAR Labs and cancel the information drop. So I asked the project managers and--”
“Right, let’s get this game going! I brought the chili!” Green Arrow entered the lab, holding a cooler full of beer and a pot full of Queen-brand chili. “Hawkman, o-chum-o-mine, you’ve really out done yourself this time round, haven’t you?”
"Alright, guys?" said another man, this time around it was Pat Dugan, following Oliver Queen into the room, with a selection of drinks and snacks in brown paper bags in his arms. "Hope we're not too late."
"Just in time," replied Katar, as he placed his mace on the empty table he'd commandeered from the STAR Labs technicians.
The computer operator looked to the assembling Justice Leaguers and select Seven Soldiers, and then shook his head. “I’m going to let the program run on autistic mode, so I don’t have to be here. I’ll be back in the morning, uh, if you need any help, the night shift are around.” He turned to Adam Strange. “You’re alright to keep at the systems yourself? I mean, if you need me, I can, uhm, stay, but--”
“I’ll be fine,” said Adam Strange, as he followed the man out of the lab. “Don’t you worry about it, and don’t worry, I’ll keep the guys away from the fine-machinery.”
“I wouldn’t make promises I couldn’t keep, Adam,” both Strange and the operator jumped as The Question turned a corner and loomed at them. “I hear Green Arrow is a sore loser.”
“--That’s only if I lose!” called the emerald archer at the mention of his name. “And I don’t intend to, TQ!”
“Nice to see you, Question,” said Blue Beetle, as he took a soda from Green Arrow’s ice-box. “Surprised you pulled yourself away from Hub City. Heard you’ve got some trouble there--?”
The Question shrugged. “Trouble? Yeah. But I was going a little crazy, I needed the time away from the case to let it process in my head. Too many threads and possibilities loop-the-looping in my mind, I need to let them settle. And I heard Arrow here was going to bring his chili, and, well, I’m a sucker for it. It’s the only reason I stuck around the League as long as I did.”
"Enough shop talk," said Green Arrow. He turned to Blue Beetle, who was fiddling with a small spherical device in the middle of the room. "We ready to go, BB?"
"Gimme a sec, hey, Stripesy, give me a hand?" Blue Beetle peered over the device, and Pat Dugan joined him. "Or, sorry, do you prefer Stripe?"
"How about Pat?" chuckled the mechanic, before shrugging. "I don't mind either way, Beetle. I mean, do you mind being named after a bug? It's all semantics in this business--" Dugan pointed to a selection of wires in the middle of the device, and then to Ted. "--There. Something's come loose. You need to reattach your--"
Ted nodded slowly as Pat explained the problem, and then went about fixing it. A few seconds later, the device was humming, and in the centre of the spherical device, a small blue bead was floating on air. With the task at hand completed, the two heroes stood up. "Right, the sphere is active. We're in a communications dead zone. Masks off, gentlemen, you know the rules."
The Question pressed a button on his belt, and was engulfed in the cloud of chemicals that stripped his mask off his head. His dark hair faded into red, and he was no longer the faceless vigilante of Hub City, but Charles Szasz, freelance reporter. Adam Strange's jet-pack was already hanging up in the corner, but he reclined and grinned as he watched everyone else remove their masks. Katar Hol's wings rested against the wall, but he kept the rest of his armour on. His helm, on the other hand, was sat next to his chips. He patted it softly, and then looked to Green Arrow, who simply peeled off his domino mask, and also placed it on the table. Pat shrugged, and looked to Blue Beetle, and Ted Kord followed suit and pulled down his cowl. "I best find my poker face then, shouldn't I?" said Kord, smiling.
Green Arrow began to deal out the cards, and then looked around at the heroes present. "Dealer's choice, gentlemen. Texas Hold 'Em. We're all aware of the rules?" The heroes nodded. "Then let's play. But first, a toast." Ollie brought up his beer, and the other heroes followed his example with their own drinks. "To absent friends."
"To absent friends," replied Adam, Katar, Pat, Charles and Ted in unison, before drinking.
"Now, to hell with pleasantries, you're all going down," said Oliver, grinning.
* * *
Toyman was first through the portal. His robotic body surveyed the scene, and made sure no sensors would pick up on their entrance. He clicked and he clacked and then Deathstroke landed hard on the concrete and stood slowly. They were in. Catman was next through the portal, then Ravager, followed finally by Major Disaster.
Warp peered out of the portal he had created, and then found Deathstroke in the dark. "If you need me, do not 'esitate to call. Au revoir in the meantime though, oui?"
"Get out of here, Warp," snapped Deathstroke, as he unsheathed his sword. "...Blake?"
"Something's not right. I caught a whiff of something in the air. Concentrated alpha-male, but it's gone now, and there's..." Catman sniffed the air again, and then looked back at Deathstroke. "There's something wrong here. I don't like it."
"We're in a house of mad science," said Ravager slowly. "There's bound to be something here to mess up with your senses."
Catman straightened up, and took his bowie knives out. "You insinuating I'm paranoid, tin-man? Don't make me peel you out of your armour like a sardine tray."
Ravager loomed over Catman, and looked down at the master-hunter. "Don't make me break your face open for the whole world to see."
Catman snarled, Ravager simply stood in silence, and Deathstroke snapped at both of them. "Idiots. You're idiots. This is why these things never work. Leave your egos at the base-- I will not have a mission compromised by your chest beating bull@#$%!"
"Mr Wilson is correct, friends," said Toyman in his sing-song voice. "Why can't we all get along?"
"Enough," said Slade. "Toyman, deploy the anti-security measures. What is it you wanted me to say...?"
Toyman's expressionless face ticked to the side. "'Lose your marbles', Mr Wilson."
"Hhf," sighed Deathstroke. "Toyman, please, lose your marbles."
Toyman knelt over, and a small hole opened up in his wrist. As if on cue, dozens of marbles sang out of a hidden compartment, and, as if they were operating with a mind of their own, they vanished into the shadows, climbed up the walls, and vanished through doors and air ducts. "There we go, my little creations are away, causing all kinds of sensor scrambling mayhem."
"Good, now, we move forward." Deathstroke looked back at Ravager and Catman. "Keep your cool. You're on the same side. Don't make me hurt you."
Catman nodded slowly, and his gaze moved away from Ravager. "I'll do my job."
Major Disaster, on the other hand, throughout all this, was nervous. He was in the big leagues now, it appeared. Deathstroke? Catman? Toyman? Ravager? A weird group of misfits that he had been looped into being part of. The job was simply-- snatch and grab some high-tech machinery to aid in a future scheme. Paul Booker never played it like this. The Voice was all about the long game, whilst Disaster had been, for most of his criminal life, about the quick score, the hide and the seek, and the occasional fight with Green Lantern. Green Lantern. "Christ..."
"Something the matter, Major?" inquired Toyman.
"No mate, just, eh, thinking," Booker shrugged. "Let's grab that thing and get the hell out of here, okay? I never liked these places."
"The dark? The strange? The foreign? I adore it," said Toyman, before leaving Major Disaster in the basement. "Are you coming?"
"Hurm."
The team moved slowly through the corridors of the complex, eluding security patrols and scientists. They weren't here for the confrontation. They were here to steal, and that's all they needed. If they got in undetected, all the better, but the fact of the matter was... this place was guarded. Sealed up tight. You couldn't teleport directly to the device, or alarms would blare, and lock-down would be in effect-- a psychic baffling field would keep you in. So the basement was where they started their journey. The Voice had Major Disaster use his abilities to scramble the systems underneath the complex. A simple earthquake would knock the net off for long enough for them to do this. When they were ready for the exit, another earthquake, a few points higher on the Richter scale, and the entire system would crash, and Warp would carry them on out. This was a relatively easy task, considering.
"Something's gotta' go wrong," murmured Booker.
* * *
"Hhh?" Katar Hol abruptly stood, and looked around. "Something's wrong."
"What?" Green Arrow's hand went for his bow, and Blue Beetle pulled his cowl over his head. Adam Strange's plasma weaponry shifted into active and Dugan wiped his mouth, following Katar's sudden alert gaze, and all the while, The Question was back, his face obscured by his binary gas.
"I can... the air shifted. Something's wrong." Hawkman was already pulling his wings on before anyone could question it. His helm was the last to go on, and his mace was back in his hand. "The air just got... I don't know how to explain it, the air got heavier."
"My armour scans my immediate surroundings," said Adam Strange, as he typed something into a holographic console that appeared as he thought about it. "...The cameras are on loops. The sensors are being over-played by footage from two minutes ago, hell, I think we're under siege."
"The quietest siege I've ever been under," said The Question, as he rolled up his sleeves.
"Well, there goes our game," mumbled Green Arrow, as he pulled an arrow from his quiver.
Two Hours Ago:
"So, how did it feel to kill The Guardian?" Mind-Eater wouldn't stop talking. The other psychics had quietly resigned themselves to the fact that Ravager was beating them all, but Mind-Eater kept putting more and more money in, and Ravager matched him bet for bet. "I mean, I hate-- hated-- the guy. Loathed him. I had a perfect thing going on, way-back-when. I was going to be a protagonist, you know? I was going to save Metropolis from the metahuman villainy that came with having a super-powered community living on the edges of Suicide Slum. I was going to be the hero of Krypton Square! But he got in my way. I mean, aha, I killed his lady, did you know that? So I don't know who did the most damage. If anything, you put him out of his misery."
"I'm sure. Call."
"Hey, Mr. Ravager, sir?" Goggins drew Ravager's attention, and then cleared his throat. "I have a question, and I don't mean to be rude, so please, don't take offense... but why are you here? With us, I mean?"
Ravager was silent for a moment, before replying. "I wanted to speak to Mr. Crawley."
"You know my name? Christ, Ravager, you sure did your research. You know all about Goggins over there, you know about me, what are you, some kind of fanboy?"
* * *
"Hey, what are you--?!" Deathstroke threw a shuriken so hard that it split a security guard's head open wide, and the man fell to the floor before he could raise the alarm.
"Damn," he whispered. "That isn't good."
"What, he didn't raise the alarm or anything, we should be fine, shouldn't we?" said Major Disaster.
"Guards are on rotation. Guards have to check in. Our timetable just moved up. It's just round this corner, right? The schematics of the labs we got from our friend Senator Callahan said as much--" Deathstroke turned the corner toward their target when an emerald arrow shaft hit him square in the chest. "What?" The explosion sent The Terminator flying back through a wall, and immediately alerted the rest of the team to something not being quite right.
Green Arrow grinned. "Deathstroke, the Terminator? He ain't so tough."
"Try me on for size." Catman leaped at Green Arrow, his bowie knives singing as they sliced through the Emerald Archer's bow. Ollie swung the pieces of wood up to block the killing stroke Catman went on to attempt to deliver, whilst the rest of the assorted heroes were attacked head on by the other villains.
Toyman was faced down by The Question and Stripesy, who went into the fight fists raised and ready. They rained down a fury of blows on the robot, the paint-work chipped and dents formed in it's body, but the animarrionette Toyman's mouth fell open, and a boxing glove caught The Question square in the face, reeling him back. Dugan ducked, and drove his shoulder up underneath Toyman's right arm, and struck with such force that he heard the limb creak. "Owie!"
Ravager saw Adam Strange, and powered up his own artillery. The two of them stormed toward each other, Strange with his jet-pack purring, Ravager with his feet hitting the concrete again and again, leaving mighty footprints where he connected. Ravager dove forward and grabbed Strange, and the hero of Rann lost control of his jet-pack, and the two of them swung through a wall, and into the open air outside.
"You," grunted Hawkman, aiming his mace at Major Disaster. "I recognise you. Elemental. Punk."
"Hey, hey, no need to get personal...!" said Booker, as he brought up his hand and the entire building shook.
"No need to get personal? You made it personal when you took to a life of crime. You made it personal when chose to even think to fight me." His mace was swung back, and Major Disaster shook his head. As the weapon drove forward, Disaster concentrated, and the head of the weapon cracked in two, falling to the floor beside Hawkman.
"Not today, Hawks," bragged Disaster, wagging his finger.
"That was my favourite mace," howled Hakwman, as he punched Major Disaster in the face. "You just made a big mistake!"
Green Arrow was holding his own, but barely. Martial arts was not his forte, but he could fight-the-good-fight with the best of them, and the classes that Dinah made him take in Las Vegas were beginning to make perfect sense now. He dodged and blocked, but was unable to get on the offensive. The blades sang as they neared his face, but he kept his wits about him, and heaved Catman back over his head, and this gave Queen the opportunity to get back to his feet.
Catman was about to drive his knives into Green Arrow’s chest when Hawkman turned his attention back toward their duel. “Arrow!” Hol shouted, as he threw him one of the many weapons he had on him-- this one a baton-- that Queen relished the chance to get his hands on.
The bowie knives shrieked against Queen's weapon, and Green Arrow shrugged. "It's not a bow. But it'll do."
"I hate you." Catman was kicked back, but didn't hesitate to press forward. The blades clashed with the baton, blow after blow being deflected. "I'll kill you."
"I don't think so." Hawkman dropped the unconscious form of Major Disaster, and grabbed Catman by the cape, swung him round, and threw him into a wall. "Trade you," he said to Arrow.
"Yours is unconscious," replied Green Arrow, but then he saw Dugan working away at Toyman, landing blows that caused the large, imposing, puppet-shaped villain to spark and splutter. He was about to go help when Major Disaster grabbed his leg, and yanked him to the ground. "My mistake..."
The Question pulled himself to his feet, and looked up at Dugan, who was still going to town on Toyman. "He's a robot," grunted Dugan, keeping his guard up. "I'm good with machines. Good at building them. Good at dismantling them."
"Oh me! Oh my!" squealed Toyman. "This isn't at all fair!"
"Lord, this guy goes up against Superman, and he's saying that going up against us is unfair?" The Question grabbed a pipe that had become dislodged in the fracas, and whistled for Dugan's attention. He tossed the weapon to Stripesy, and the hero swung it like a bat, nearly taking off Toyman's head. His neck quadrupled in length, and sparks flew from the villain's open mouth.
"Superman always plays f-f-f-fair!" Toyman's chest opened up, and half a dozen toy airplanes shot out, and circled Dugan, but The Question was at his back, and used his trenchcoat to grab them all before they could pick up speed. He dragged them to the ground and stamped all over them, and Toyman looked at Dugan as he grinned. "Oh, no."
"It's all science, Toyman, just like any other. This one's the sweet science, and you know why?" Toyman didn't have a chance to answer, Dugan punched him across the metal jaw, and the clang of flesh on damaged metal rang out and the animarionette fell to the floor with a thud. "Because it feels so damn good. Except, jeez-Louise, I think I broke my hand..."
* * *
Deathstroke had found the device they needed. He uploaded the software that The Voice had delivered to him, and turned around. Blue Beetle hit him with his BB Gun, and Slade cried out in surprise. The taser charge racked his body, and he fell down on one knee. "We're not idiots, Slade."
"Blue Beetle, or, ehh, eha," Deathstroke struggled to stand, but Beetle hit him with another charge. "gggahhh"
"Stay down, I can keep at this all day." That was a lie. The BB Gun only had a dozen charges, and he was down to ten. "What's going on here?"
"You're lying." Slade pulled himself up, and took another charge to the chest. He shrugged it off. "You need to learn how to lie, Teddy. And you know that whole deal with you revealing your identity on live television? A £$%^ing mistake." Deathstroke grabbed Blue Beetle by the throat, and took his pistol from it's holster. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't blow your brains out right here?"
"Yuhhh..." was all that Ted managed as the life was being choked out of him. His legs flapped about awkwardly beneath him as Slade moved him up higher and higher. "You'll get blood... all over... your mask?"
"Heh." Deathstroke kicked Beetle hard in the chest, a move that sent Beetle crashing through the table that held their poker paraphernalia. "You made me laugh, Beetle. That buys you a free pass." Slade turned to the computer console, and then grinned beneath his mask. "Gotcha."
"You're a warrior, aren't you?" Hawkman dodged Catman's knives, and drew his own katars from his back. Metal clashed and sparks flew as they fought. "I can tell. Your style is... rough. But I can see the... hh... attraction."
"Shut up and die," hissed Catman. As if Hawkman had taken extra-offense at this, the front of his costume was torn open, and Hawkman's attack drew blood. "Ggrrr..."
Catman's fury doubled, and Hawkman barely had a chance to compensate for the change in speed. He kept up the offensive though, for every strike that pierced his armour, he took blood from Catman, until suddenly Catman roared with an almighty fury, and drove his knives up into Hawkman's chest, just beneath his ribcage, and Katar grunted. Blood dribbled from the holes in his armour and in his torso, and he dropped to one knee. "Very... well... fought..." He keeled over, and Catman turned to see Deathstroke nod at him as he emerged from the laboratory. Deathstroke's eye found Hawkman, and even though Blake couldn't see Wilson's expression... he felt Slade's look of disgust piercing his head.
Major Disaster grunted as Green Arrow kicked him in the chest, but at that moment, when Deathstroke buzzed him on his communicator, he knew he had to step up. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, Green Arrow thought he'd kicked the fight out of the villain, but then the entire complex began to shake, and the ceilings began to creak and groan, bits of plaster and dust falling down on their heads. "Quit it, Disaster! Don't you--"
"Bonjour!" Warp appeared in front of Green Arrow, and punched him in the face, causing him to fall back. "Au revoir!" Major Disaster was pulled out of the corridor, and Blue Beetle, staggering to his feet and out of the lab, was surprised to see the same happen to Catman and Deathstroke. Stripesy was punched in the back of the head, and as was The Question, and Toyman too vanished.
"Adam!" shouted The Question, as he looked around. "Where the hell is Adam?"
Dugan shook his head, and dropped to his knees to examine Hawkman's injuries. "Sonofagun, Katar, are you okay?"
Katar's eyes opened slowly, and he smiled. "It's on."
"What?" said Dugan in surprise, as the Thanagarian warrior climbed to his feet. "Katar, you shouldn't be standing--"
Adam Strange landed inside the building, and looked to Hawkman. "You get all that?"
"Yes," nodded the Hawk-Knight. He removed his chest plate and looked at his wounds. "It's nothing, Pat, I'm fine. I'm made of sterner stuff that you might think."
"What's going on?!" shouted Green Arrow, as he limped over to the assembling heroes.
Hawkman shook his head. "Adam, you might want to explain what you just told me..."
Two Hours Ago:
Ravager grabbed Mind-Eater by the neck and slammed his head down on the table. A small panel opened in his armour, one that none of the others had seen open before, and a small pistol hissed into his hand. He held fast on Mind-Eater's head, and drove the weapon against his spine, and pulled the trigger.
"NAAHHHH!" screamed Lucian Crowley, as he scrambled to claw whatever it was out of his flesh.
The other psychics didn't know what hit them. Ravager picked up The Guardian's shield, and swung it hard-- the weapon moved like a boomerang, struck them across their faces and then was caught by Ravager's waiting hand. He slammed Crowley into the table again, and took his pistol to each of their necks, before returning to Mind-Eater. "You don't know your place."
"I... I'll kill you! I'm... I am... I'm someone..."
"Don't try to think. That was a nano-inhibitor, it's attached to your spine. You can't remove it with your fingers, and your mind-powers don't work anymore. I didn't come looking for you, Crowley. I didn't. You're a bonus." He slammed the man's face into the table again, and watched Mind-Eater fade into unconsciousness. "Punk." He went to the door, and then took another weapon from inside his armour-- this time, it was a small spherical device, with a glowing blue bead in the centre. "You're in a communications dead zone. I've amped up the signal. You won't wake up unless I want you to." He placed the device on the floor, and then closed the door behind him. He scrambled the code, and then turned to see Mr Blink standing behind him. "What?"
Mr Blink, The Voice's messenger, stuttered and shook like nobodies business. He finally found his words, and used them accordingly. "Uhm, The Voice, he, he has a job for you. An assignment. The laptop with the message awaits with Deathstroke and the others. You're going off site."
"Why, thank you."
Now:
Major Disaster's face looked like it had been through a Cuisinart. People came for him straight away, lackeys from any number of criminal organisations that had defected with promises of actual power, with actual progression into the ranks of super-villain-bad-ass. Toyman was taken away for repairs, Catman headed to his room for a long shower, and Ravager and Deathstroke were left alone in the staging area.
"Tough fight. Stupid, really. We got sloppy."
"Where is everybody?" asked Ravager, quietly.
"Warp's moved them all to a secondary location. We're shutting down operations in Hub City. The plan was always to move locations every week or so. Like I said, we got sloppy."
"I'd have expected better," said Ravager, shaking his head.
"Excuse me?" snapped Deathstroke. "I got us out of there. I didn't have to. I did you a favour. Don't make me regret it."
"Regret it? I regret it every time you take a breath." Ravager turned to Deathstroke slowly, and The Terminator took his katana from it's hilt. "Are you scared, Slade?"
"I always had a bad feeling about you. What? You want to make it into the big leagues by killing me? You want to be the big-bad-Voice? Or maybe you are The Voice, is that it? What's your game?"
Ravager shook his head. "The Voice isn't on site. I was hoping to track him down during my time here, but I realised something-- he addresses the masses through mass psychic presence. With us-- you and I with our psychic buffers installed and maintained by strength of will, and Catman, for instance, operating on a lower field of thinking-- he has to communicate through laptop. Fascinating. Do you know who he is?"
"I have my theories. Who are you?" repeated Deathstroke, his blade out fully now, and a wary step between him and Ravager.
"It's obvious, Deathstroke, who I am." Ravager's armour hissed. The joints decompressed, and slowly wound back. Deathstroke covered his good eye, but kept his sword levelled squarely at Ravager now. The smoke loitered in the air, and Deathstroke heard someone exit the armour. The man-- as it turned out to be-- stepped forward, and Slade could see a smile form on the man's face. "...But why don't you take a guess?"
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