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They're not your average superheroes. |
| [Introduction] Super We were the first of our kind. Superheroes. Straight out of the comic books. We were every zit faced comic collector's wet dream come true. Even gave ourselves names. Some of them - I don't know where they came up with them: Captain Justice, Hammer of Truth, The Silver Spork. That's one of my favorites. The characters were coming out of the woodworks, wanting to protect the world, save the earth, fight for those who couldn't fight for themselves, blah blah blah. For a while it was good. We fought for mankind and for everything good mankind stood for. Superheroes fighting supervillains. After a while, we grew into something else. Supers. Pop culture influences. Started seeing heroes' faces on Wheaties boxes. There were action figures, tv shows, movies. We lost our direction along the way. Heroes and villains were only enemies in costume, when there was someone watching. Hell, I went to my arch enemy's daughter's birthday party. Any good looking punk in a cape could call himself a Super. It was glamour. It was fame. It was fortune. And then it changed. Nex was a villain none of us saw coming. We stood against him, our little, League of Virtue. Peacebringer was our leader, a good man. He stood before Nex, expecting a staged fight, just another kid who wanted a name and a mask. We watched as Nex killed our leader without mercy and without restraint. He was the first Super to die. He was not the last. Many retired after that. And those who stood against Nex, died. Nex's empire grew and spread and before long, he ruled half the world. The Supers disappeared - gave up their masks and capes and hid with their alter egos. Humanity handed itself over to Nex in exchange for its life. Nex spared those who pledged allegiance to him and slaughtered those who refused. The freedom we know does not come without penalty. We live our lives as we always have, with Nex watching over us, taking what he pleases, destroying those who become too powerful. The Supers watch, most thinking Nex has won. That there's no way to stop him. There's no one as powerful as him. Well...it just so happens, I might know a guy. - Ben Frost a.k.a "The Musketeer"  Characters NPC's Hood - secretive messenger Mongrel - missing Super Lady Mercury - Nex's bulldog Nex - world dominating Super The Mastermind - retired prophet The Last Templar - invisible girl Goliath - super strength Player Characters Ben "The Musketeer" Frost - played by Wenston  Kit "The Fox" Vixen - played by .Wolfie. Nicolai "Dammerung" Rosenburg - played by cyril Barclay "Boudicca" Monroe - played by Professor Q 
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| The bag was pulled from his head and before his eyes could adjust to the dim light, a fist connected with his face further shattering his already broken nose. This sucked. Ben Frost really didn't like being a prisoner. He didn't like being tortured and he didn't like not knowing where the fuck he was. Hours before, he'd been jumped in front of his apartment, a bag was thrown over his head, he was stuffed into a van, beaten and bound, and now he was sitting tied to a chair getting punched in the face for the umpteenth time and no one had asked him a single god damn question yet. He must have really pissed someone off. He had a guess about who was behind this, but he couldn't really think of a reason why he was now someone's punching bag. He hadn't done anything out of the ordinary or against code for months. Maybe they were finally catching up to him for his infraction months ago? He doubted it. He was backhanded, his head jerking to the side as he tried to withstand the punishment. Blood blossomed on his lips and he had to swallow thickly to keep the curses and threats idle in his throat. Nex's goons didn't like when you started cracking "your mother" jokes. And those were some of Ben's favorites. "Aint so super now, are ya freak?" a voice broke into his blurry thoughts. The fact that the voice sounded like it was coming through a blanket of cotton clued Ben into the fact that he probably had a decent concussion going on. Well shit. That wasn't good. The man behind the voice apparently didn't like his lack of response and backhanded him again, this time on the other cheek. He couldn't help the laugh that escaped him as his head whipped to the other side. "What's so funny, freak?" Another voice sounded, this one from somewhere to his right. Ben spit blood out, hoping that at least he could leave a mess for them to clean up. Maybe jerkoff number one would have to get on his hands and knees and scrub a little. The thought made Ben almost giggle. Almost. "I'm just thinking," Ben started, licking his lips when his voice came out dry and broken. "That I wish we had a ball-gag and some feathers - might liven up the party." The comment earned him another fist to his nose. It had him seeing stars for a moment. His vision blanked, bells rang loud in his ears. He swam a little in unconsciousness then, enjoying the short getaway. But as he came back, he became aware of another voice, softer and smoother yet somehow able to send chills up his spine than any voice ever could. "Marie," Ben said her name. It rolled off his tongue against his will and in the next moment, a soft hand was touching his bruised cheek, more gentle than he remember her being. The fingers slid along his face, tickling at the back of his head, brushing through his short hair, and came to rest on his opposite shoulder as she crossed in back of him. He felt warm breath against his ear. "That's Lady Mercury, to you," she whispered to him. Ben snorted, disgusted when the action brought blood to the back of his throat. He spit it out and then tried to roll his head to look at him. She looked just as beautiful as she had on their wedding day. And he hated her just as much as the day she sided with Nex over him. "You're looking good, babe," she said to him, her crimson lips spreading into a grin. "It's a new look I'm going for," he managed to keep the pain from his voice, even though his eyes stood half-lidded and his body shook from the adrenaline of it all. "I could share some tips if you want." The smile on her face faltered just a moment and he knew what was coming next. He could always tell when he managed to piss of his ex-wife. Her hand fisted in his hair and pulled his head back, so his face was towards the ceiling. She brought a fist to his face and he saw stars again. One more hit had his cheek splitting and blood trickled down his skin and dripped onto the floor. He laughed, though the angle of his neck made it hard to breathe, let alone let out a decent enough laugh for the situation. "I love it when you get rough," he rasped. Mercury spit in his face and then roughly shoved his head away. He would have fallen off the chair if he weren't tied down. The room spun and tilted and for a moment he was disoriented enough to wonder if maybe they hadn't done some permanent damage. But then he righted himself and lifted his head and stared at her, standing in front of him, arms crossed, legs crossed, bossom exploded from beneath her spandex. Fucking Supers and their stupid costumes. Hers had always been ridiculously scanty. Maybe that's why they hadn't worked out as a couple - too many other eyes were drawn to her. "Musketeer," sarcasm dripped from her voice. She took a few hip swaying steps towards him and bent down so her face was close to his. "Do you still like that name?" Ben licked his cracked lips. "I like Big Daddy better, but you stopped calling me that a long time ago." She laughed at that, but stood up, as though she hadn't meant to. It took just a nod of her head for one of the goons she was with to come forward and crack Ben upside the head for the comment. He laughed, but it was getting harder and harder to do so. God, ex-wives were bitches. "Ben," she said, her tone serious. "Where's Mongrel?" The question caught him off guard. Of all the things that could have landed him into a kinky situation like this, that rat bastard of a Super was the last thing he could possibly think of. Mongrel had been a part of their group. A part of the first few. The League of Justice, led by Peacebringer, Mongrel had been third in command, right under Lady Mercury. He was a slimy fucker, an ugly bastard, an impossible thing to live with - and Ben had last seen him the day Peacebringer died. Looking around the room, Ben tried to think of why in the world Mercury, or Nex for that matter - since that's who she was working for, would want to know where Mongrel was. Or, why they didn't already know. Had someone really slipped off of Nex's radar? Was that even possible? "Fuck if I know," he answered before he could stop himself. Like clockwork, it earned him another smack to the face, this one splitting his lower lip. "Let's try again," Mercury said, coming forward. "Where is he?" Ben eyed her. "Why would I know, Marie?" he said, putting his joking aside. "I don't keep track of any of them anymore. Nex won't allow it, remember?" This earned him another smack and he wasn't sure why. He yelled afterwards, angry now. "Dammit, stop hitting me! I can't tell you things I don't know." She kept her eyes trained on him. After a moment, she nodded. "Honey," she said, voice venomous. "I know you don't have a clue where Mongrel is. But the boys wanted to have a little fun and, well, you know Nex. He wants to be sure of these things." The words stung. He wasn't sure why. Maybe because at one time, he'd loved this woman. Maybe because at one time, they'd been partners, lovers, a team and he'd followed her into battles, staged or not, and he'd done everything she'd ever asked of him. Because he'd loved her. But now, she loved Nex more than him and that hurt. Because what had Nex ever done except kill countless people, corrupt the world, and make them all slaves to his code and word. Nex kept few close to him, but held his reigns tightly on those who followed him. The world had a new set of codes. No one could gain too much power or Nex would cut them down. No one could have too much fame or too much fortune or Nex would cut them down. The Supers of the past were figments of imagination, dead to the world, never to rise again. Nex was almighty, Nex was Omega, Nex was God. That is how life was. Anyone who opposed, wound up dead. And everyone just went about their business. Living life as they would, following the code, following the regulations. Doing the job assigned to them. Coming home when they were instructed. Not making friends, not making enemies. Lifeless, zombies, slaves to Nex. Ben fucking hated it. "He doesn't know anything," Mercury told the others and Ben realized he'd slipped into thoughts without him knowing. He watched her walk pass him, pausing a bit to give his shoudler an awkward squeeze. Her words did not match the sentimental touch. "Have your fun with him, then take him home. Nex doesn't want him dead yet." Now that sounded weird. But he didn't have time to contemplate why Nex would want to keep him alive before a fist was once again flying at his face. He would have sighed, if he could have remained conscious long enough. *** Hours or days or weeks later, he couldn't be sure, he was thrown out of a van in front of his apartment. The very same spot they'd caught him off guard when they first came to pick him up. They didn't bother to help him to his door and he laid on the sidewalk for a moment, bleeding and breathing and trying to catch up with what had just happened. It was dark out, which meant the curfew was being enforced and the only people out on the streets were Nex's Guards or people with a pass to work and roam at night. Those passes weren't given out frequently and the few who had them used them sparringly. A lot of time the passes didn't work with the guards and you'd wind up dead anyway. Ben coughed, spat blood onto the sidewalk and managed to push himself to his hands and knees. His face was a mess. It was beaten and he could feel it swelling. His ribs were on fire and he was sure at least a couple were busted. He'd have to go to the hospital in the morning. He was far too tired to do it tonight. Damn, they'd really done a number on him. He'd have to remember to thank Mongrel for this, if he ever saw him again. He wondered what Mongrel did to piss Nex off? Maybe it was just the simple fact that he was unaccounted for. Hell, the world basically had to check in with their fucking Nex parole officers every night to show them they were where they were supposed to be. Had Mongrel missed his and now was on the run? It sounded like something the bastard would do. God bless him. With a grunt, Ben managed to climb to his feet. He swayed a little and sharp pain tore through his chest. Oh jesus, maybe he should go to the hospital tonight. But he pushed that thought out of his mind as soon as it entered. He'd missed curfew. There were guards about. He'd missed his nightly check in with the guards. If he were out and about tonight, there was a good chance he'd get shot before the guards even asked him what happened. It took a while, but climbing the stairs to his apartment was vicious on his aching and broken body. By the time he entered his apartment, he was seeing spots and had to split blood into the sink in his kitchen. Hell, maybe he'd get lucky and he'd die in his sleep. Wouldn't that be peaceful? "Musketeer." The strange voice in his apartment had him whirling. His hand inadvertantly went to his side, more out of ancient habit than reflex. He had no sword there anymore. His eyes scanned the room, searching for the source of the voice. He stopped when they came to rest on a man seated in the loveseat in the corner of his living room. The man had a hood over his head, his face covered with a mask. He was dressed in all black. It wasn't the slickest looking Super costume he'd ever seen, but damn if the guy looked like just another shadow in a dark, dark world. Ben didn't know what this guy wanted or who he was or even if he cared. He listed sideways and leaned against the wall, one hand coming up to hug his ribs as they ached and burned at him. "If you're looking for a beer, I'm fresh out," he mumbled, slightly disappointed with his mouth didn't seem to cooperate with his humor and tripped over itself. The hooded man stood and came towards him. Ben didn't have the energy to put up a fight. Luckily, he didn't have to. "Nex got to you," the hooded man said. "Are you kidding?" he answered. "I look this good all the time." The man didn't express any humor at his jokes. "They asked you about Mongrel." Ben frowned at that. How did this guy know what they asked him about? And who was he? And why the fuck was he in his apartment when all Ben wanted to do was crawl in his bed and die? He decided not to answer. That way, if Nex sent his goons in again, he didn't have to lie to them about telling this guy anything. The man seemed to take his silence as a yes and nodded his head. "You need to find him." "Mongrel?" Ben asked before he could stop himself. Well shoot, too late to turn back now. "Why?" The man reached into a pocket, tucked beneath his sleeve. If he'd been thinking clearer, Ben might have thought he was reaching for a gun. But instead, he pulled out a silver card and stuffed it into Ben's front pants pocket. He tried not to feel violated. "Find him." The man said. "And find the others." With that, the man turned and silently ran across Ben's apartment and out an open window at the end of the hall. Ben was slightly impressed. Guy would have made an awesome ninja. He snorted at his own thought before he reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out the card. One side was blank, silver shining in the faint moonlight coming through the window. He flipped it over. All it read was "Hood." Sighing, he put the card back into his pocket and made his way into his bedroom. He'd find the others or whatever the hell "Hood" wanted in the morning. Right now, he was going to pass out. |
| “Nations are built on the corpses of heroes.” “Eat your oatmeal, Dad,” she told him quietly. She tried to get a spoonful into his mouth but he was still talking because he couldn’t stop himself. Her father was like a broken magic eight ball. He spat out bits and pieces that might mean something or might be as useful as “Sorry, please ask again later.” “This is important, girl. Maybe the most important thing I’ve told you your whole life.” She wanted to believe him. She really did. But he’d said that yesterday, and the day before. That was the problem with her dad, she couldn’t tell when he was actually seeing the future or when he was seeing the past or when he was just seeing garbled images concocted by his delusional mind. He had started sliding down the slope towards madness even before Nex took over, and afterwards it just seemed to get worse. “Eat your oatmeal, Dad,” she said again. His hand came up and slapped the bowl out of her lap. Oatmeal splattered on the ground and she heard the ceramic bowl shatter when it hit the ground. She felt tears sting at her eyes and she fought them back, kneeling on the floor so her father couldn’t see her face. He kept talking through it all, not even aware of what he’d done. “Listen to me Kit, there’s a foundation of bodies under this country and there are going to be towers of them before it’s all over.” “I know Dad,” she said quietly. She scraped what she could into the broken pieces of the bowl and then dumped the whole mess in the sink. Her father was still sitting in his arm chair, fingers clenching and unclenching on the arm and his eyes were a million miles away. He was like this almost all the time now, and it was getting harder and harder to take care of him. “Kit,” he tried again, and his gaze turned on her. “He’s coming.” Then he was back, his face falling into something drawn and tired, but almost sane. He stared at her for a long time, and then his gaze went to the chunks of oatmeal still lying on the hardwood floor. She’d gotten rid of the carpet after the first couple incidents. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, and that was almost worse. “I have to go to work,” she told him. “I’ll be back soon.” He nodded, but didn’t look up again. *** There was a saying in Japan. It said “A man has a false heart in his mouth for the world to see, another in his breast to show to his special friends and his family, and the real one, the true one, the secret one, which is never known to anyone except to himself alone, hidden only God knows where.” Kit believed that, because she had three names to go with her three hearts. The first was Kit Vixen and it was the name she went by in the club where she danced. It was a stripper name and it fit perfectly because that’s all she was anymore. She’d gone to ballet class religiously since she was a kid all the way to adulthood and this was all she had left of it. This was where her dancing had gotten her, taking off her clothes and spinning around a pole. The second name was the one she’d had a couple years ago, when she’d still had a heart and still had something to fight for other than that five dollar bill some drunken asshole was shoving in her thong. Back then she’d been known as “the Fox” and she had been one of the Supers. She didn’t have any powers like some of them, but she was fast and her father had put her through as many martial arts classes he could fit into her schedule. Her father, he’d been on of the real Supers. They’d called him “the Mastermind” and he’d been able to see the future. That was before his visions had left him a raving lunatic. The last name, the one she was born with, she didn’t tell to anyone anymore. She wasn’t sure if even her father remembered it and it didn’t really matter because that name was dead with the girl. That girl couldn’t have survived in this new reality. She couldn’t have stood up there, wearing her heritage like it was some kind of shtick, and tossed her kimono over some drooling jack-off’s face. She wouldn’t have made it through the day. That girl was dead now, and Kit was all that was left in her place. “You’re late,” her boss said from the door. She rolled her eyes. “They’ll live,” she said, pulling mesh stockings hurriedly over her thong. She threw on the robe next, tying it quickly around her waist and then leaned over the mirror to put on her make-up. She caught a glance of Roger in the mirror and he was staring at her. She rolled her eyes again. “Don’t you have something better to do than eye-fuck me?” “Just get on the fucking stage, Kit,” he snapped. He slapped her on the ass before leaving and she ground her teeth together, fighting the urge to hit him back. She missed the days when she could have ground his face into the concrete for that. Instead she did as he said and got her ass on the stage. Two of the other girls were already up there and Cherry winked at her as she spun on the pole. She was already topless, bending over backwards to let two skinny drunk kids shove dollar bills at her. They must have just turned eighteen because they looked like they were twelve still and the one kid was turning bright red when Cherry let her tits hang in his face. His friend crowed and slapped him on the back. The second girl Brandy didn’t even look at her, but she did try to trip her as she walked to the front and got to work. The usual crowd was already settled in and a few of them cheered when she started peeling the kimono off her shoulders. She knew a couple of them by name, but it only mattered when they asked for a lap dance. Then she felt like a goddamn hooker trying to sweet talk them out of their cash instead of just giving them a blow. She hadn’t fallen that far yet and the day she did was the day she would go home and hold a gun to her head. She liked to think she would pull the trigger and then she thought of her dad and knew she wouldn’t. Someone caught her eye and she almost fell mid-spin on the pole. She was either going crazy or that was Ben Frost sitting in the back corner, a beer halfway to his lips. He looked a little worse for wear, stitches and bruises sharing equal space on his face, but she would have recognized his face anywhere. He’d been one of her heroes back in the day, back when he and Lady Mercury had been an unstoppable team. She’d liked him better because he was like her, no powers, just a guy who was really good with a sword. She shot him a wink and put on a show for him. She didn’t know if he recognized her or not, but it didn’t really mater. Even if he did, any sign of grouping would get them both in trouble, the kind that she wouldn’t walk away from. But when she turned around again he was right up against the stage. She crawled across the stage towards him until she was right up in his face. “You want a private show?” she asked with a grin. The guy next to him laughed and it sounded more like a howl. He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I think I need your help,” he said. He swallowed hard and wet his lips. “I think I need your father’s help.” She had to fight to keep the smile on her face. “Then go to the back room.” |
The road outside my house is paved with good intentions. Hired a construction crew cause it’s hell on the engine. Fall Out Boy Nicolai cursed under his breath. He hated being on call, but mostly he hated that the nurses never failed to call him in. He was pulling his white lab coat on when the emergency medical technicians burst through the doors with an unconscious and bleeding man strapped into a gurney. Apparently he was the other half of a shooting gone awry. If this kid made it, he was looking at some very serious charges. Gang conflict was the current theory circulating the halls. As if the world wasn’t bad enough, the youth had to go and throw their lives away. If they just waited long enough Nex would take them off their hands. It bothered Nicolai more than he cared to say. He despised the fact he spent his days trying to save the lives of sheep just so they could go slaughter themselves in the streets. If they wanted to die so desperately why did they cower in Nex’s shadows? But he tended to keep his mouth shut because it was their idiocy that kept his lights on. “Another late one, Nicolai?” Another doctor, one he hadn’t deigned to remember, came up alongside him. Nicolai didn’t respond. He didn’t feel like explaining that he wasn’t having a long night and that he was only there because the insufferable wretch Stacy couldn’t figure out how to do anything without him there. She was a useless nurse and it seemed her only reason for existence was to occupy space. It baffled him that she was able to get a degree in anything. But above all that, Nicolai didn’t converse with his coworkers. It gave them the idea that they were friends or something. Nicolai didn’t do friends. He did acquaintances and people he didn’t quite hate. There were a list of people he tolerated but it was very short. And the number of people he actually liked could be counted on one hand. “Awful, isn’t it? At least three innocent bystanders were caught in the crossfire.” Nicolai smirked. Innocent, right. Just because they hadn’t been involved with the shooting didn’t mean they were innocent. No one was innocent these days, just less guilty. The doctor turned, her face wearing the obvious signs of fatigue and her hands were stuffed deep in her lab coat pockets. “Didn’t mean to hold you up, your patients are probably waiting for you. I was just on my way out.” She flashed him a smile he did not return and walked off. Bystanders were around at night in an area where gang activity was high? They had no one to blame but themselves for getting shot. They shouldn’t have just stood there when the guns started coming out. Nicolai barely remembered the days when he wouldn’t have believed it. There was a time he was certain everyone wanted to live and they didn’t go looking for dangers and death. Those days had died alongside the days of the supers and Dammerung. In those days he had fought against the supers, a villain to most. He hadn’t been a villain because he was embarrassed by the society they lived in or because he was a social outcast with an agenda. Nicolai had chosen to be “evil” because it was the path less traveled and he was a rebel without a cause in those days. Now he was a villain of a different sort. His hip vibrated and chirped as his beeper went off. He snatched it from his belt and read the number blinking across the face. Stacy had better hope to high heavens he never saw her walking or he might be hard pressed to stop himself from pushing her into traffic. Nicolai stuffed his beeper in his pocket and stalked off to find out what was so goddamn important. “Doctor Nicolai! I’m soooo sorry to call you in so late, but this guy said he was a patient of your’s and that he only came to see you!” “Why didn’t you tell him to come back at my regular hours?” He snapped making the blonde girl take a step back. He imagined she must just love working for him. “Well, I… It looked like an emergency,” she said quietly, her face nearly as red as a cherry. “That’s what the emergency room is for, not my cell phone.” She mumbled something that sounded like “sorry” and something about “insisting to see you.” “Where is this degenerate then?” Nicolai demanded impatiently. He was already there and might as well see who was responsible for dragging him out of bed. Stacy scampered ahead, leading him away from the nurses’ station and to one of many rooms that were primarily used for day-to-day check ups. He remembered how just that morning he was listening to some asshole complain about stomach pains only to find out it was gas bubbles in one of those rooms. He swore to whatever unholy power if it was that guy again. She stopped outside the only lit room in the hall and gestured inside quietly. Then she scampered off before he could sling anymore nasty words her way. “Now what was so goddamn important it couldn’t wait until a more reasonable hour?” Nicolai demanded as he stepped into the room. All other words died on his tongue when he saw the moron spinning in his rolling chair. He let his breath out in a hiss. Not only was it someone he hadn’t thought about for a long time, it was one of the few people that made it on his list of tolerable people. “Frost.” “Hey, Rosenburg.” The guy cracked a grin that looked utterly and completely painful with all the bruises and cuts on his face. Nicolai shut the door. “What can I do for you?” What he wanted to ask was more along the lines of ‘What are you doing here? Aren’t we all hiding from the same jack-off?’ But those words just stayed on the outskirts of his mind. “I need your help.” “I think you’re beyond my help.” “And I thought doctors were supposed to be understanding.” Ben faked chest pain, but the slight wince showed there was very real pain somewhere. Nicolai flicked his fingers. It had been a while since he had felt that familiar spark, the one that had inspired him to be a doctor in the first place. He didn’t think it ever went away but somewhere deep down he wondered if he still had it. Then he felt it, that tingling in his fingertips, that warmth that enveloped his whole hand. He traced his finger over a bruise and watched it disappear as if it had never been. Frost grabbed his wrist. “Not that kind of help.” “You called me out of bed and you don’t want this kind of help? It looks like you did those stitches yourself. You know what kind of risk for infection you run? You could’ve given yourself tetanus. That was careless, you should’ve come before you decided to play doctor on yourself.” Nicolai couldn’t understand the rage he felt about such a display of idiocy, must be because he was a doctor and not a moron. “I need Dammerung.” |
| Everyone knew that Boudicca was dead. She’d been one of the first to die, actually, back in the days when Nex had taken over. The stories said that she’d poisoned herself so that Nex couldn’t have her. Boudicca had always been great with poisons, after all, and it was no surprise that she’d die rather than give herself over to whatever brutal treatment the villain had in store for her. She’d led a rebellion against him. For a while, it had gone well, but then…the Midlands. She had failed there, and her ragtag group of rebels had been slaughtered. Standing on the field, watching her compatriots die en masse, it was said that Boudicca had pulled hemlock from her belt and downed the entire vial. Those who had been there, and only a few of them survived, said that the death hadn’t been pretty. She’d suffered greatly before her heart gave out, they said, but it was better than what she would have suffered if Nex had gotten hold of her. But still, no one would dare say that she had taken the coward’s way out. Still, though, in the years following the death of the Supers, her rebellion had become an example, a warning for anyone thinking about standing against Nex. And that lesson was this: don’t. If you did, you would die. That was just the way it was. Everyone knew that Boudicca was dead. Fortunately for her, they were all wrong. Barclay Monroe slipped on her shoes, black boots that rose to her knees, and stood. Every morning, she followed this same routine, covering as much of her skin as she possibly could. She’d chopped her hair off at the beginning, and even gone so far as to dye it black, but she hadn’t been able to do it again, so she’d let it grow back out over the years. But, really, by the time it had grown back to its original glory, no one would suspect her of being a Super. Boudicca, the Warrior Queen, they’d called her back in the day, a Celtic pistol with fiery red curls and wicked skill with a blade. Not to mention the poison. It was the poison that had made her special, ‘cause anyone could carry a sword or a spear (no matter how spiffy and collapsible it was), but not too many people could kill someone and leave absolutely no trail. Well, the Supers with powers could, but she hadn’t been one of them. She’d been Super because she’d worked her ass off. And then Nex had come and fucked it all up for her. She’d tried to fight against him, despite what he’d done to their kind. She’d even raised an army of Supers and civilians alike to fight back. For a while, it had gone well, and Barclay had hoped that maybe cooperating against a common enemy might invite victory to their camp. But then Nex had struck back, and her entire army had died. Not her, though. Barclay had faked her death that day. She really had taken the coward’s route out, she supposed, but she had lived to fight another day. Boudicca had disappeared, hiding more effectively than anyone else could. Somewhere that even Nex wouldn’t think to look. She was dead, after all. Barclay bound her hair, bright red curls that had once been her calling card, and hid it beneath a scarf, a demure black like the rest of her outfit. It completed the look, after all. Combined with the careful application of make-up to hide the woad swirls along her cheekbones, it was a very effective disguise. Over the years, Barclay had come to realize that she was hidden more now than she ever had been as Boudicca. Back then, only a domino mask had kept her identity. She hadn’t even really cared if people recognized her. She was Boudicca, after all, the Queen. The defiant one. Barclay sighed and looked at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing herself. Sometimes she thought that she should have really killed herself back at the Midlands, rather than spend her days hiding herself and who she’d been. But then again, some part of her still yearned to rebel against Nex, and to avenge herself and her friends—her tribe—on the mighty empire. Some part of her still believed that one day, they would all be free again, and she could be Boudicca once more. Until then, though, Barclay Monroe worked as a librarian, one of the only places that would allow her to wear sweaters and pants to work every day. Hell, they hardly even minded the scarves anymore, they were so used to them. And she bided her time, waiting for a sign from the gods that the stars called for rebellion once more. Stepping into the streets, Barclay barely noticed the man leaning against her building, but she felt her fingers unconsciously flick toward her missing poisons. There was something familiar about the man’s feigned nonchalance. He was clearly watching her from the shadows. “Can I help you?” Barclay asked, barely a hint of her accent noticeable in her speech. She’d practiced for years, after the Midlands fiasco. “No need to hide from me, Boudicca,” the man replied. His voice struck a chord in Barclay’s memory, and she knew who this man was. A smile broke out over her face despite her efforts to remain serious. How had he found her? No one was supposed to know she was still alive, let alone where she lived. “Frost. How good to see you.” Barclay whispered, southern burr evident now that she’d abandoned her attempts to mask the accent of her homeland. Frost grinned back. “You look good for a dead broad.” “Wish I could say the same for you, Frost. What the hell happened to you, you blighter?” Barclay turned around and waved Ben into her apartment. It wouldn’t do to be seen talking like this on the street. Even if it looked abandoned, someone was always listening. “Had a run in with the bad guys, actually. But that’s not what I’m here about.” Ben plopped down on a chair at Barclay’s invitation. “I need your help.” Barclay sighed and nodded, surprised at her ready acceptance of both Frost’s sudden presence in her life and the fact that he knew her at all. “I’ll see if I can find my remedies.” “Not that kind of help. I wouldn’t have bothered tracking down a dead woman if all I needed was her apothecary skills.” Frost leaned back and stretched out, carefully suppressing a grimace as he did so. “You’re a hard woman to find, Barclay.” “I worked hard keeping it that way,” Barclay replied shortly. “Come to find out any idiot could find me.” Frost waved away her concern. “No one knows who you are. I just had a hunch and a friend helped me sleuth you out. But, hey, don’t you want to know what I need your help for?” Barclay looked up expectantly. “I need your rebellion skills, Boudicca,” Frost declared, voice solemn for the first time in Barclay’s long memory of him. “I need the Warrior Queen.” |
| Ben had given them all a choice. Come with him or stay behind. He hadn’t elaborated. He hadn’t needed to, because they all knew that there was only one reason why he’d come around and ask them to come out of hiding. Why he’d risk his life, and theirs, to even be in the same room with them. It was time to take on Nex. But even Ben Frost, designated moron that he was, wasn’t stupid enough to say it out loud in front of them. Not out in the open, in the world. Not until he knew their decision. So he’d given them a choice. And he’d made sure they knew what the consequences of both would be. Nex’s goons would come for each and every one of them, make no mistake. Whether they’d come to kill or question would depend on the nature of their choice. Choice number one, stay behind, tell Ben to go fuck himself – the goons would show up, kick them around a bit, ask why he was there, ask who else he’d gone after. And when they couldn’t answer any of the questions, they’d beat them senseless and then send them home. Just like they’d done with Ben. Choice number two, come with Ben – end their lives as they know it, leave everything behind, and be on the run from Nex forever. He wouldn’t have blamed any of them if they’d chosen to stay behind. Forever was a long time. So he’d been humbly surprised when they’d all said yes. Hell, he’d almost gotten teary eyed on a couple of them. Because, damn it, he hadn’t expected all of them to say yes. Had he even expected any? Boudicca probably, because, well, rebellion was what she did. But the others, they’d moved on. They’d tried very hard to stay quiet and keep their heads down and their necks away from Nex. He felt bad asking this of them. But they’d all said yes. He hoped he didn’t get them all killed. He’d given them all one day to pack their lives up and a place to meet. He knew if any of them got caught, it was all over, because there was no hiding secrets from Nex. If they were caught, Nex would know where they were meeting and he’d make sure they were all dead before sunset. Ben prayed, like down on hands and knees prayed, that none of them got caught. Hood hadn’t made another appearance and that bothered Ben. Because here he was, running around and asking the old crew, and some other Supers he had deemed worthy of revival, to come follow him and give up their lives to him and he didn’t have a clue why. Hood hadn’t said. He hadn’t told him why he was supposed to gather them, but something in the way he spoke, in the way he moved, in the way he did business – it spoke of power. It spoke of uprising and Ben liked it. He liked it a lot. The winery was abandoned. It had been that way for some time. Ben wasn’t sure why he picked it as their meeting place. Maybe because all their old hideouts were either destroyed or Lady Mercury had told Nex about them. So they needed some place new. They needed some place that she didn’t know about and that she wouldn’t think of when she tried to figure out where the fuck Ben had run off to. Because by now, she would know. Ex-wives tended to know what their ex-husbands were up to more than anyone else. God, what a bitch. He sat beneath one of the windows and waited and watched as they began to trickle in. They carried everything they owned on their backs, or in Julie “The Last Templar” Boughan’s case, in three huge ass suitcases. He chuckled a little as the petite blond girl carried in luggage that probably weighed more than her. He himself had abandoned everything he possessed, aside from several pairs of clothes and the swords that were now strapped to his back. Ben Frost watched as the Supers came in and studied each other. Most hadn’t seen each other in years. And in some cases, they’d been fighting each other. Nicolai had been an enemy of Ben’s at one point. But they’d shared coffee after public events on several occasions. Ben liked the guy. He was just dickish enough to be hilarious. Maybe that’s why they got along so well. This band of heroes was something he never thought would happen ever again. But the group he’d managed to gather, the ones he’d managed to find and get to, it was good. No, good was an understatement. It was great. Musketeer, The Fox, Dammerung, Boudicca, The Last Templar, Goliath, The Mastermind. Now this was a party. Kit was the first to approach him. She came and stood over him and he did his best to try and not picture her with her clothes off. It seemed wrong, because she’d always been like a little sister to him. But, he was human, after all, and she’d been a fucking hot stripper. After they saved the world, he’d have to remember to apologize to all the guys’ hearts, and dicks, he broke by taking her away from what was obviously her natural calling. She stood over him, hands on her hips. “We’re here, Frost,” she said. He grinned up at her, because that was her way of telling him that he’d better start talking and get up off his ass. He did. He stood and he brushed himself off. She was appeased and walked back over to her father, who was sitting in a rickety old chair, staring at the wall and rocking back and forth. Ben was a little surprised at how bad the old man had gotten. He hoped The Mastermind still had it in him to do what needed to be done. Whatever that was. He’d been trying to think all day what he was going to say to them. How he was going to explain that he didn’t know why they were gathered. Clearing his throat slightly, he reached beneath a table and withdrew a small Tupperware. “Uh, thanks, everyone, for coming,” he said, trying to project his voice as much as he could. He took the lid off the Tupperware. “I made cookies.” When he only got blank stares back, and a small eye roll from Boudicca, he shrugged and withdrew a cookie for himself, shoving half of it in his mouth. The stitches around his face pulled and stretched and he winced, wishing he’d taken up Nicolai’s offer to heal him. Maybe if they had some time after… “Tell us why the fuck we’re here, Frost.” It was Goliath who spoke. Ben raised his brow at the bulky man, half a cookie in his mouth still. Goliath, whose real name was Ted or something equally as ridiculous, was in fact a true Super. He was one of those quirky test subject rejects that had taken some serum somewhere and had acquired super strength. There had been a lot of stories about the man back in the day. Leap tall buildings, stop a speeding train, something, something, something. All Ben knew was that he’d once seen the man bend a streetlight with his bare hands and it had been the coolest fucking thing he’d ever seen. He hadn’t been a part of their League of Justice, he’d been in some other league, more oriented in the south, but Ben couldn’t resist resigning the man up. Snorting, Ben swallowed his cookie and then purposely took another bite so he could talk with his mouth full. “What, I can’t just throw a party for all my old friends? Did I forget to tell you that you needed to bring hors d’oeuvres?” “Ben.” It was Kit. He sighed and finished up his cookie, before putting the lid back on the dish. She was the only other woman, aside from Marie, who could say what she wanted from him by just saying his fucking name. “Okay look,” he said and leaned against the table that separated him from the others. He felt awkward, because he’d never been one to give speeches or do the planning or even try to be in control of things. That was always Peacebringer or Lady Mercury’s job. But since one was dead and one was a bitch, that left him. “I’m gonna be honest. I know maybe this much more about what the hell is going on than the rest of you.” He pinched his fingers together so they were only centimeters apart. “But,” he continued before the protests he could see on all of their faces erupted. “I’m going to try very hard to ensure that when we die a very bloody and painful death, it’s not gonna be in vain.” “Jesus Christ, Frost, do you even know why you brought us here?” Petite Julie spat out. He’d forgotten how valley girl she was. Ben shook his head. “No, not really.” The others groaned and Ben straightened a bit. He could tell what they were all thinking. Why did they leave? Why did they come? Why did they follow a moron like Ben Frost into a situation that was going to get them killed? Did any situation that Ben Frost lead them into not involved the possibility of death? When did Ben Frost get so freaking cute. Okay, maybe not the last one, but a man could dream. “What happened to your face?” It was Nicolai that quieted the room. Boudicca had moved over to sit by him. They both seemed interested in what he had to say about the mess that had become of his face and apparently their question had sparked the curiosity of everyone else as well. He self-consciously brought a hand to his nose and tried to hide the wince as he brushed over stitches and bruising and lingering swelling. “Did Nex do that?” Boudicca asked, her red curls hanging loose around her shoulders. “Um, no,” Ben said, then paused. “Well, yes. Kinda. In a way.” He winced, not in pain but in annoyance with his running mouth. “It was Marie.” The room hushed for a minute. Kit broke the silence. “Mercury did that to you?” Ben nodded and let that sink in for a minute. He knew he hadn’t been the only one hurt by her betrayal of them. After Peacebringer died, she’d left them all. She’d joined Nex and had sold them all out. Things hadn’t been great between her and Ben before that whole fiasco, but, selling your husband and crew out to an evil super villain tended to put a damper on your marriage. “She always liked to play rough,” Ben said after a moment, the grin not quite reaching his eyes and when no one laughed he quickly wiped it off and reached for the Tupperware, grabbing another cookie nervously. He took a bite and cleared his throat. “She asked about Mongrel. Apparently Nex can’t find that slimy bastard.” He snickered a little, eyes not looking at any of them. “Which – we all know Mongrel – that means he’s up to something sneaky.” Boudicca cleared her throat. “And that inspired you to come and find the rest of us because…” she waved her hand in the air. Boy, Ben was glad he never decided to be a politician. He was failing at this miserably. He shook his head. “Well, no, not exactly. You see,” he paused to use his tongue and dislodge some cookie from his back teeth. After he was done, he took another bite, and spoke with his mouth full again. “These cookies are terrible,” he commented and then grinned again. “I forgot a part, about this story. Uh, when I got home, after Marie gave me this awesome and handsome new look,” he wave a hand in front of his face. “I had a visitor in my apartment and-” He was moving even before his mouth stopped running and before he could register that there was a threat in the room. He’d been watching Kit. And her eyes had moved to the window quickly. He was kind of surprised that it was still instinct to trust her reactions so implicitly. A hand came up quickly to draw his sword and it sliced through the air with only a flash of light on cold steel. Ben heard someone gasp in the room. It was probably Julie, but it may have been Kit, he couldn’t be sure. He’d have to get used to them all being together again. His eyes narrowed and he looked to his side. The pain in his ribs flared up but he remarkably managed to keep himself steady and the signs of any weakness off his face. He mentally gave himself a high five when he realized that he still had it in him to be a Super. His left arm was stretched out completely, the sword held out and right up against Hood’s neck. The hooded Super had come in through a window high above them and had dropped down silently. It had been Kit’s eyes that gave him away. Ben heard Hood chuckle beneath his hood and heard the others in the room rise from their seats, unsure who this was or what was going on, but reluctant to just attack. Ben kept his head forward, but his eyes turned towards Hood as his free hand found the cookie bin again and he brought a cookie to his mouth. “Oh, hello, Hood,” he said with his mouth full. “Want a cookie?” |
| Ben Frost was everything Kit had wanted to be. He was the hero who didn’t need powers to kick ass. She couldn’t remember him ever being scared or blinking in the face of certain death. He had fought crime side by side with his wife, Lady Mercury, and okay, maybe Kit was a little bit jealous of her. She’d had a school girl crush on him because she’d still been a teenager when she had finally put on a mask and joined the Mastermind in fighting crime. She’d had a poster in her closet with his face on it and she’d never told anyone that. Times had changed, but Kit wasn’t sure she didn’t still feel the same way. He stood up there, cookie crumbs falling out of his mouth and she listened to him because she wanted to believe he was still the same hero that she had believed in as a kid. She wanted to believe that if anyone could change things, he could. After all, he’d gotten Dammerung to join, and that man was just a cranky bastard. She studied them all out of the corner of her eyes, Dammerung watching Ben talk with a vague expression of distaste written on his features. She wondered what he’d said to make them join. She guessed it was probably the same thing he’d told her, the same choice set down at their feet. She wasn’t surprised to see Boudicca. The woman lived for rebellion. It was what she did. She wasn’t surprised to see Goliath either. She was shocked to see the Last Templar, but sometimes people weren’t who they seemed. She’d thought Julie was just in it for the money and the fame. She didn’t expect to see her turn around and dump everything, okay except the six trillion trunks of clothes, for a cause that was doomed at best. She’d joined for one reason and one reason only. She’d joined for her father. Ben Frost was the hero that Kit had wanted to be, but at the end of the day she wasn’t half as strong as he was and she’d let the Fox die. She’d had to kill her because otherwise she wouldn’t be able to look at herself in the mirror. Her dad couldn’t do that. The Mastermind was who he was. It was ingrained into him and it had made him a raving lunatic because he couldn’t stop the visions. Some days he couldn’t tell the difference between truth and fiction, past and future. He was dying. She knew it, she was sure he knew it. If she asked he could probably tell her when and where. So she had done this one last thing for her dad, because the alternative was watching him waste slowly away until he died drooling in his own filth. She would give him this one last chance to be a hero, and maybe they could both go out in a blaze of glory. So they listened to the big damn hero, Ben Frost, the Musketeer, and she held her dad’s hand while he spoke. He was the only one not surprised when the hooded super dropped from the ceiling and he was as fast as she remembered him being because his sword was out and at the super’s throat before she could do more than realize he was there. She almost laughed, because there stood Frost with cookie crumbs still on his lips and he wasn’t batting an eye. “You want a cookie?” he asked. When the super didn’t answer he shrugged and finished his. He wiped his fingers off on his shirt and slid the sword home with a hiss. “Hey everybody, this is Hood. Say hello to the class, Hood.” “Nex knows you’re gathering,” he said. Kit snorted. Damn, this guy didn’t waste time beating around the bush. She assumed he was one their side because otherwise she couldn’t imagine the Musketeer putting his weapon away. He still made her nervous, because she couldn’t see his face and the rest of him was swathed in black. Julie shook her head. “Well that’s just great, isn’t it? So we’re already screwed.” “No,” Hood said. He crossed his arms over his chest, his head turning to study those assembled. It bothered her that she couldn’t see his eyes, because that’s where she looked to try and predict what someone would do next. “As long as I’m here, they can’t read your minds and they can’t find you. Otherwise you would all probably be dead already.” “Well that’s a comforting thought,” Dammerung said. “So we’re good until you decide to bolt.” Hood ignored him, turning to Ben abruptly. “Mongrel isn’t here.” “Can’t put anything past you, can I?” the Musketeer said. He pulled another cookie out of the tin and held it up to Hood who didn’t move a muscle. The man was like a stone cold statue, which fit with his image. She wondered who was underneath the mask. She’d heard of some supers from the old crew with masking capabilities, but most of them were dead and gone. The Shade had hung herself in her apartment and Blink had been black bagged and never seen again. Hood shook his head, completely unimpressed. “Find Mongrel.” “Why is everyone looking for Mongrel?” Boudicca asked, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “It seems to me we have the makings of a decent rebellion right here. Don’t get me wrong, he’s powerful, and the animal would come in handy I’m sure, but I don’t think he’s the key to defeating Nex. However, with your masking capabilities we might stand a chance.” “No. You’d all die,” Hood snapped at her. He turned back to Ben. “Find Mongrel. He’s the only one who knows the way.” “The way to what?” Julie asked. “What is all this about?” “The mirror,” Kit heard her father whisper. He cleared his throat and looked up at her to make sure she was paying attention. She would know that far away look in his eyes anywhere and her hand tightened on his. She felt her throat contract and she hoped he knew what he was saying this time. She didn’t want to have to explain to everyone what had happened to him. It had been hard enough explaining it to Frost, granted he was distracted by her tits in his face at the time. “You need Mongrel to find the other side of the mirror,” he told her. He coughed abruptly in his hand and then shook his head like he was trying to clear his vision. “The reflection.” He was squeezing Kit’s hand hard now. “Do you understand? You need Nex’s reflection.” “What the Hell is he talking about?” Dammerung asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. Kit looked helplessly at Ben, who was looking sadly at her father. She knew how he sounded, and he was probably as crazy as everyone was thinking he was, but he was still her dad and she loved him. She opened her mouth to explain and she didn’t want to feel the tears pricking her eyes so she pretended they weren’t there. Strangely enough, it was Hood that saved them. “Nex has a twin,” he said. “That’s who Mongrel can lead you to. That’s who can save us all.” |
| It was as if dark and mysterious music had suddenly played over the office speaker system. Everyone shut up--even Frost, and he seemed to be this mysterious Hood fellow's front man--and stared; Barclay saw a couple of mouths hanging open in shock and reached up, only to find that hers was one of them. The freeze frame lasted a few moments until Dammerung managed to recover his senses. Figured that it was the criminal mastermind, didn't it? Barclay had always figured that the bad guy's needed the smarts and Nicolai was no exception. "And what makes you think that Nex hasn't gotten him already? It seems to me that if this twin was the way to bring Nex's regime crumbling down, he would have taken care of such a loose end years ago." Barclay, who'd sat herself next to the man early in the meeting, turned to Hood and nodded. She didn't much care for the hooded stranger. He wasn't even English! Imagine the nerve using the name of an English folk hero and not even being of the proper stock. "I agree. You say that Nex already knows we've gathered. Don't you think he would have known of such a loophole in this plans?" "Faith," Hood replied, voice clipped with obvious annoyance. "You will get your chance at blood, Boudicca. Nex cannot seek out his twin. Such is his power that he is beyond even his brother's reach." Crossing his arms, Hood turned to Frost, dismissing any further questions with sheer indifference. "Find Mongrel. He's the only one left who can lead you to Nex's twin. Move from here tonight and make your way toward the location on this card." Somehow Ben was holding a business card in his fingers. Barclay hadn't even seen their benefactor move. "It is as secure as any place and far better equipped to play host to a group of your caliber." Within moments, and without another word, Hood had disappeared into the shadows, leaving their group to stew in silence. The Fox leaned over the frail man that had once been Mastermind. Barclay remembered working with him; he'd truly been one of the greats and it bothered her that this world had ruined him. Or maybe it was his powers that had ruined him. Maybe Nex's regime had done nothing more than accelerate the inevitable decline of such a powerful mind. Maybe Barclay should be glad she didn't really have any superpowers. At least they couldn't turn against her the way they'd obviously turned against Kit's father. Barclay hadn't worked with the daughter much--she'd taken up the craft later than most--but she had liked what she'd seen. The Fox had been almost as good as her father, and to watch her suffer at her father's decline was heartbreaking for the tribe-minded woman. Boudicca had abandoned them. She'd hidden when she should have fought. She should have never given in. She should have continued the rebellion until every last one of those bastards was dead and Nex's head hung from the end of her spear as a grisly reminder of hard-won victory. She should not have faked her death and hidden away like a coward. But after the Midlands, what else could she have done? It had been nothing short of disastrous. So much death, all at her hands. She'd never be able to wash the blood from them. "Boudicca..." A hand waved in front of her eyes and Barclay blinked herself back to reality. Goliath, whatever his name was, sat next to her, having evidently taken over for Dammerung. The villain--former villain--stood with the others, who all appeared to be planning for the move to Hood's secret bunker. She was prepared to trust the blighter because Ben seemed to trust him and the Musketeer would never purposely fuck them over, and it appeared that the others shared her opinion of the matter. Only Mastermind remained separate, though Kit had managed to gather everyone close to where the old man sat. "Yes?" Barclay realized that she'd been crying and shook her head, laughing self-consciously. Boudicca had never admitted weakness. Well, at least not until she'd run, letting others die so she might live. That had been the epitome of weakness, and a sin for which she'd never forgive herself. "What is it, Goliath?" "Jensen." Barclay raised an eyebrow. "They sent me over to make sure you were alright." Barclay flashed the group a glance. The lot of them was watching her without seeming to. "Too busy planning to come over themselves, hmm? Yeah, let the coward rot in the corner." "What? Hunh? They sent me over because they figured I was the least likely to die if you had a high startle reflex, or something." Jensen laughed, but sobered quickly. "No one thinks you're a coward, Boudicca." "Barclay." Sigh. "They should." "Is that why you got rid of your tattoos and braids? Because you think you're a coward?" When Barclay didn't answer right away, Jensen nudged her slightly. "Barclay?" "It's a sign of my cowardice." Barclay turned to face her fellow Super. "The real Boudicca died after the Midlands. She killed herself so the Romans couldn't take her prisoner and parade her through the streets of Rome. All I did was run and hide while my friends--our friends--died. And those who survived...well, they probably didn't last much longer. Blink, Tigress, Seraphim...we lost so many of the real Supers that day. And I ran away. Their leader...hiding in the shadows, disgracing their memory. That is why I'm a coward." A soft chuckle. "You always did think too highly of yourself, Boudicca." Barclay looked up to see Ben standing above her. "You were the only one who bothered to organize a rebellion, but you were hardly their leader. You just gave them a standard to rally around. Seems to me it was pretty quick thinking to save yourself." Barclay raised an eyebrow. "Do enlighten me, oh crumbled one." Ben had finally wiped the crumbs from his face, but had only managed to relocate them to his shirt in the process. "Well, yeah. The real Boudicca died, right? But if she'd been able to hide herself, she might have led another rebellion against the Romans. Better, if she'd faked her death, they never would have seen it coming. Well, you've practically Jesus'd yourself into a surprise attack." Ben's face split into a shit-eating grin and Barclay couldn't help but smile. Frost had always been able to pull her from her moods, even back in the day. "But Jensen's got a point. Where the fuck are your tattoos?" Barclay pulled her scarf from around her neck and spat on it, ignoring the questioning look on Ben's face, and proceeded to scrub at her face. "Hiding, just like their owner." Ben cleared his throat. "Well then get that shit off your face and get your stuff. We've got a hideout to get to. Here's hoping it's better than the Bat Cave. If only the real supers could be rich like Batman. We'd be set for life." "Until Batman goes insane and starts taking over the world," Barclay muttered, standing. "Then we just end up in the shitpile we're in now." |
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