Wildvine Vs knightofthechronicle (Fan-Fic Versus)

Wildvine

Lightning cracked the sky, and thunder shook it. The window pane under the Hoods shoes trembled from the concussions, like an negative afterthought of the storm. Even used to English summers as he was, this one was rather unpleasant.

'Bloody right night for climbing down a skyscraper' Hood thought to himself.

The rain beat down even harder, and the wind howled its outrage, as if in response to his miserable thoughts. His costume was mostly waterproof, and his cloak was water treated. But it could still only handle so much. And having long since breached its resistance limit, clung awkwardly to his back and shoulders.

Having cut a suitably sized hole in the window, he slipped into the dark room, dripping wetly as he paused. His eyes adjust slowly to the darkness, He had left off the night vision built into his mask, so he wouldn't be blinded in the lightning flashes. The office was beyond posh. Worthy of royalty. Well, almost. Rhicine Mckency evidently had excellent decorative tastes. Or, much more likely, had hired someone with decorative tastes. He could certainly afford it. His designer drug, Sloe, had spread through the streets like flu germs on the tram. And since no one could reproduce it, he got to pocket all the revenue.

Sloe jacked up the senses, and reflexes, making everyone, and everything seem to be moving in slow motion. Hence the name. Addicts of this vile substance needed to up the dosage each use. But too much, too close together, resulted in the heart literally exploding. Word on the street was, a milder version was in the beta test stage. If it got out, it could take years to rein it in. If ever. The Hood had to find the evidence tonight, to shut Rhicine down. Failure was not optional.

"Eveni'n." A voice said from the shadows. The Hood hears a gun being cocked.

'Bugger all...'

"Now don't make with any funny business, les you can dance around bullets, yeah?" The light switch is clicked, flooding the room with light. Six men in black op uniforms, and holding machine guns, stand in a semi-circle around the Hood. "Helluva welcome committee eh? The original speaker (Rhicine himself) commented, tucking the handgun into his waistband. "If you wanted to see the laboratory, you could have just asked." He grinned with a mouthful of perfect teeth. Two of the guards cautiously cuff the Hoods hands together, while the other four keep their guns trained on him. Then he is marched to the elevator.

* * * *

"I'm actually glad you dropped in. We needed a volunteer for Sloe 2.0, and here you are! Its almost too good to be true. Oh wait, it is too good to be true." Rhicine tapped the needle with a finger.

'Keep him talking...' Hood thought, as he carefully picked the cuff on his left wrist. "You'll never get away with this Rhisine. The agency knows all about you. There'll be others after me."

"Brave last words?" Rhisine raised an eyebrow. "Oh! You think Sloe 2.0 is a drug? That what your agency told you? Its a performance enhancement, actually. But you are the test subject, just not in the way you thought. See, your agency sent you here" He tapped his arm, seeking a vein "To me. Served up like the sacrificial lamb." He pushes the needle into his arm with a slight hiss, plunging the orange fluid into his vein. "All those people out there? In the streets? They were the beta tests you fool. And you will be the final test."

The Hoods shackles snapped open, and he leaped off the table, as he reached for his flare gun.

"Ah ah. None of that now." Rhisine was at his side in a flash, and batted the gun away effortlessly. "Now show me what you got." He slammed his knee into Hood's stomach, driving his air out. Hood, swung a forearm at Rhisine's face, but is easily blocked. The Hood sends a roundhouse kick at Rhicine's head, but is caught, and tossed against a wall, shattering a row of beakers and, test tubes.

"Let him help you up." Rhisine sped forward, and kicked the Hood up into the ceiling. Then crashed back to the floor.

'Its like fighting bloody Zoom!' The Hood thought as he barely ducked beneath a speeding punch. But caught the next one square on the jaw with a crack.

"I would say its a smash, wouldn't you agree Mr Hood?" He stood triumphantly over the fallen hero, sprawled helplessly on a lab table.

"Only one problem," Hood replied weakly, as he coughed up some blood.

"Oh? Whats that?" Rhicine sneered.

"Dosage." The Hood groaned. Then slammed the hidden syringe into Rhisine's chest, overdosing his system with Sloe. Rhisine didn't haven the time to scream before his heart exploded in his chest. He was dead before he hit even the floor. "That quick enough for ya mate?" Hood asked. But something did bother him. How did Rhicine know he was coming? Was there a traitor in the agency?

The Smoking Gun, the place for all thugs to hang out in Gotham City

Oh, I know I can think of a joke for this, it’s just killing me why I can’t think of it.

Eh, I’ll just wing it.

So one of the most handsome- no, the greatest…no, wait, I got it! So, one of the greatest, most handsome talk show hosts in Gotham City walks into this bar full of meatheads with nothing but an award winning smile on his face. No one notices him though, most of them don’t even watch public access television unless they’re stealing the TV it’s playing on. Do I judge? What kind of superhero would I be if I didn’t?

The bartender has got to have the ugliest mug I’ve ever seen. Bald headed, plump and with a handle-bar mustache, he looks like he just got kicked off of a barber shop quartet.

“Best beer you’ve got my man!” I say, greeting him with a smile.

He grunts at me, fills up a jug and slides it my way. I toast to this bug infested death trap and take a big swig but no one returns the favor. You know, I hate not being the center of attention.

Dramatically slamming the jug down on the bar, the bartender finally looks at me with actually interest (That’s more like it!).

“Hey buddy, watch da fine china, eh?”

I look back at him and he suddenly jumps back unto the wall behind him.

“Sure thing bud.”

He still just stares at me. Yeesh, you live in Gotham City long enough you think you’d get used to people with green hair and huge smiles, I mean really, I like attention, not staring.

I guess I’d better introduce myself to the crowd.

Jumping from the bar stool I try to pull off my most show-boaty moves while I hop along the different tables until I land right on top of the piano.

Microphone in hand and spotlight shining on me for effect, the show begins.

“Good evening Ladies and Germs, The Creeper is HERE!”

I have my arms spread out for dramatic effect, hoping to hear the sudden burst of applause but I swear I just heard a cricket chirp.

“Hmm, tough crowd…” I say under my breath.

Time for the big guns- a joke!

“So, a superhero walks into a bar full of deadbeats with-“

“SMOKE ‘IM!”

A dozen or so bullets fly my way but I barely notice them, instead I look down from the piano and notice the cowering piano player hiding behind the curtains. Leaping from the shiny black instrument, I grab a hold of the old man and bring him back out into the spotlight.

“SSTTOOPP!”

(Holy cow they actually have the attention span to know what I just said!)

“My good people, if we’re going to have a fight here I’m sure you all know that there has to be music!”

I scan over the thugs and see their confused expressions.

I front flip off the stage and land beside one of the poor confused men. Taking him around the shoulder, I address the crowd with him held tightly.

“Come now, I’m sure one of you has been to the movies. Don’t you know? Every time there’s a fight scene there’s music playing the background! Don’t you think that for the sake of us all we should honor that tradition?”

A few still look confused but I get a few yes’s from the crowd. Soon they all agree with a loud cheer and I motion to the paralyzed man on stage.

“Don’t just stand there man! We require music!”

The crowd joins in and the player finally snaps out of his paralysis. Nodding, he sits back on the stool and begins to play.

“There we are boys!” I say, spreading my grin out more and more, “Now let’s begin!”

Immediately I slam the man I was holding onto the table in front of us, breaking the table with the force of the mindless thug going mach one.

And so the battle rages! Guns are drawn, knives are wiped out, but all and all, The Creeper never loses.

By the time I’m finished bodies are scattered all over the floor along with several weapons and liquids I’d rather not touch. Going back up to the bar, I grab a hold of the beer I had left and take another swallow. The bartender looks like he never even moved from when I left him just ten minutes ago, his eyes still staring at me with fear. Quickly, he tries to find the gun hidden I would guess underneath the bar but I quickly slam his head on the counter. Lifting it up from the hole that’s now formed on the bar, I see his eyes swirling around in their sockets and I shake my head at him. “You never want to try that my friend.”

Looking back over the room, I see one man cowering underneath one of the booths. Jumping over the moaning bodies lying on the floor, I peer underneath the table and look at the sobbing man.

“Aw, is the bad, bad man scared of The Creeper?”

The big baby actually starts to nod!

Grabbing him by the collar, I hoist him up from the under the table and dust him off, his body never stopping shivering from fear. I look him over, and suddenly recognize his face.

“Say, you’re not Elvis Presley are you?”

That makes him stop crying for a second and he looks at me confused, “No, I-I’m Jimmy Williamson-“

I smile at him, which makes him stop, and suddenly head but him.

Taking his limp body on my shoulder, I start to talk to the poor guy.

“You mean the Jimmy Williamson? The same Jimmy Williamson that was seen stealing Jack Ryder’s car just two days ago? My word you really must be an idiot for hanging out in his turf, I hear he has very powerful friends-“

Before I walk out the door, I suddenly remember something. Turning back around, I walk back over the bar and open up the cash register, paying for the beer. I then walk out the door, saying to the people lying on the floor, “Well, it’s been a blast boys, I’ll see you around because you know what, I just love messing with you people.”