gotham – a simple man

League of Justice #3.0: “Their Currents Turn Awry”

There they found an emaciated looking man floating in a pool on water, kept afloat by two wolphins.

“Welcome. My name is AquaMan. I believe some of you know each other, but I am pleased to introduce you all to each other: Batman meet Superman meet Green Lantern meet Canary meet the Flash meet Wonder Woman and as I said, I am AquaMan. Pleased to meet you all.”

Earlier:

Batman was working on his supercomputer at his secret underground bunker at a Wayne Enterprises Applied Sciences satellite facility, a place he had come to call the Batcave. He got an anonymous instant message, that try as he could, he could not trace.

YOU’LL FIND OTHERS LIKE YOURSELF HERE. There was a set of coordinates.

Bruce Wayne later chartered a jet to Bermuda, wanting to take a holiday; perfectly normal for the billionaire college student.

***
***

Green Lantern and Wonder Woman were sent on a covert operation. Their orders were to infiltrate a hidden terrorist base on Bermuda and apprehend a fugitive who had just been added to the most wanted list. They left immediately.

***
***

Superman was asked to help a family in desperate need in Bermuda, their house was flooding and all their possessions would be lost if it could not be moved. A place was named. He flew off to help.

***
***

Canary won an all expense paid trip to Bermuda. What the hell, she thought. She’d never been on a vacation in her life. Sounded like a good time.

***
***

The Flash flashed into a dark cave. Standing there was a most unusual group of people. There was a man dressed as a bat, a woman in a green combat suit, another woman wearing tight robes who had bracers on her forearms and a lasso at her side. Another black woman wore motorcycle leathers and looked ready to rumble, and finally there was a man floating in the water. Allen himself was dressed in a red leather jacket with a lightning bolt patch on the left shoulder and a face mask.

“Hello.” he said. The rest nodded. The man in the pool of water spoke…

***

“I want to talk to you all about joining together for common purpose. For over 100 years I have watched the world, and wished for extraordinary people who would step up to lead, to protect, to serve the world when the world needed them. Quite without my planning, here you emerged. You are all superheroes, of one sort or another, each with a unique set of abilities, what some call powers. One by one, you are all formidable, and all have walked dark and sometimes lonely paths to get where you are today. I ask you not to abandon your current duties or tasks, indeed, you are all needed where you are, but I do ask that you make a pact to here come together again when I call, when there is a global need that cannot be met by just one or two of you, but a need that requires you all. I ask you to join my League of Justice, to stand and fight when the world is in peril. Will you join with me against that day?”

For a day they talked, sometimes argued, sometimes agreed, and at the end, all joined with AquaMan. All pledged their allegiance, for the good of the planet.

And thus, a superhero team was born: the League of Justice.

That terrorist was found to be a friend and ally. The family’s home was saved. Flash went home. Canary had a great vacation. AquaMan smiled, content that earth was safe.

Which it is. For now. But in space, sectors away, an old menace is awaking. A blackness is descending towards earth. It won’t arrive soon, but it will come, and maybe even the League of Justice will not be enough to stop it from destroying the entire planet…

League of Justice #2.9 “By Any Other Name”

Central City

Barry was exhausted. Phil helped him to arrange a flight home from Tunisia, and Iris was there to meet him at the airport, but it took several weeks to heal from the physical, and what was more, the emotional trauma of being a prisoner and a lab rat at the mercy of Lex Luthor’s scientists.

He pressed charges against Lex Luthor, but without hard evidence, the allegations and legal proceedings halted before they started. To further exacerbate his wounds, when Lex heard about the charges, while denying them all, he made the grand humanitarian gesture and paid for all of Barry’s treatments and medical bills. Barry hated him for it, but poor graduate students can’t be choosy about how expenses get paid.

Barry spent much of his time thinking. He had discovered that he had the ability to teleport over long distances. This ability was triggered by stress and focused thinking. Once home, he practiced , at first with a frustrating lack of results, but then with repeatable frequency until he could flash at will. He could even choose the direction and location of his flashes. He decided then that something must be done with this power.

With great power comes…something, and that something should be for the good of all humanity, Barry thought to himself. But what he planned to do couldn’t be in the name of Barry Allen. For one thing, his experiences with Luthor proved that there were people who would always seek to abuse his power for their own gain. Second, he couldn’t be certain that Luthor still wouldn’t come after him. So, he needed an alter ego, a persona that could be seen by the general public and the media and that would protect Barry from their scrutiny.

Given that it was a flash of lightning that created who Barry was now, and that his teleportation events felt like flashes, it seemed only natural that he would call himself The Flash.

And with that, a new superhero was born.

***
***

Smallville

Clark Kent awoke in his parent’s hay loft and for a moment was confused how he got there. Then he remembered: the hurricane, the Abby Gale, the flight round the world. But it seemed like all of that happened to someone else, a different person. He snuck out of the barn, being careful not to be seen by his folks, after all, he was supposed to be at college and didn’t want to have to explain how he was all of sudden home. It was still dark in the predawn, so he took advantage of his abilities. He flew to the edge of town, then walked over to his favorite diner. He pulled his hood up, and ordered a coffee. Drinking it, he sat in peace, but only for a few minutes.

Another patron walked over to him, a woman, dark skinned, and dressed in biker leather. She sat down next to him and peered at him intently. Without preamble she said:

“It’s you, isn’t it? You’re him!”

Clark wanted to ignore her, but couldn’t.

“Him who?”

“I saw you flying into town last night.”

Clark looked around in panic, but no one had heard.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe for me. But how do you do it?”

“Who are you?”

“Dinah Drake, but they call me the Canary.”

“Canary. I don’t know how I do it. My name’s Clark Kent, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Clark. You know, if you don’t want people to know you can fly, you should be a bit more careful.”

“Wait…it was you on the motorcycle wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, just got in from Gotham.”

“Gotham? That’s a long drive.”

Canary smiled. “Not all of us can fly. Besides, I like my cycle. It gives me freedom.”

“I bet.”

“So where were you flying from?”

Clark hesitated, but it felt good to tell someone. Over a breakfast of scrabbled eggs, bacon, and toast for him, pancakes and fruit for her, he told her the story about the hurricane. In return, she told him about Gotham. About growing up. About always being on the run. Humbled by her experiences, Clark revealed his heart. He told her he was an alien from a dead world, that that was the source of his powers. They bonded over being misfits and outcasts from human society.

“You know,” Clark said, “My mom is a wonderful woman. My earth mother. She would love to meet you, and she would give you a place to live. You don’t have to always be on the streets, alone. And I don’t know. If you tell her about what you’ve been through, maybe she can help. She does that very well, helping people. What do you say?”

Dinah strangely found herself trusting this man from another world but also from her world.

“I’d say that sounds wonderful.”

Clark took Dinah home to meet his parents. Within minutes, Ma Kent had her set up in Clark’s room and was shooing Clark back to Metropolis and college. He told his parents what he had done, and rather than be upset at the blatant use of his power, Pa Kent had tears in his eyes. “I always knew you were destined for greatness,” he said.

On the bus ride back to college, Clark did some thinking about what he had done, and how much he wanted to keep doing it. There were always people in trouble and always people who needed help who up until now had to take their chances. Clark wanted to help the people no one else could. But, he needed a way to do that without drawing attention. He needed a way to keep his ear to the ground. So he got online, Clark plugged into social media, and landed a job writing for the Daily Planet, a world wide online, grassroots newspaper. It was run and contributed to by people all over the world, normal people with an internet connection sharing stories about what happened around them. It was a global news source by the people the news happened to. But, Clark couldn’t tell his stories about himself. They had to be about someone else, someone larger than life. No one would believe that a simple guy from Smallville, Kansas could life a fishing boat or fly around the world anyway, so Clark told the stories about someone else. In a flash of hubris, but also good storytelling, Clark made up a character called the Superman. It was the Superman that saved the Abby Gale. It was the Superman who was on the lookout for more people who were in need of rescuing. The fishermen and sailors he saved were already spinning their own tales, so the internet took the Superman in stride. In fact, it wasn’t long before stories began pouring into Clark’s inbox, telling of other people in need of help, if only he could get a message to the Superman. And so Clark had plenty of things to write about as a globe trotting reporter, and the Superman had plenty of people to save. Based on his clothes, Clark even concocted a costume. He donned lightweight, form fitting blue exercise clothes and a red hood to hide his identity. In flight, the hood trailed behind him like a cape.

And with that, a new superhero was born.

***
***

Gotham City

Vicki Vale was a reporter for the Gotham Times. She was given the assignment to write about the takedown of the Scarecrow Killer by this vigilante called the Batman. After interviewing Lt. Gordon, lead detective on the case, she had her story and a front page article on Gotham’s newest criminal at large.

And with that, a new superhero was born.

***
***

U.S.S. Enterprise, Atlantic Ocean

Hal Jordan presented her report on the alien encounter the night before and got yelled at by Admiral Russo, but there was little she could do. She was transferred from his research division, along with Diana whom she refused to leave without, and was transferred to a top secret operations unit. They were tasked with the impossible missions that even Seal Team 6 or other elite military units couldn’t complete. Hal already had a codename, the Green Lantern, and after Diana demonstrated her superior fighting skills and superhuman physical condition, she was codenamed Wonder Woman. They started completing missions immediately and with great skill.

And thus, two new superheroines were born.

***
***

Bermuda

Aquaman floated in his tank, and watched it all unfold. It was time to initiate the dream he had dreamed since he was a child: assembling a team of unique people to watch over the earth with a purpose. That purpose? To protect and serve and to provide justice for the down and out, the downtrodden, those in need and those with problems the authorities and local agencies could not solve. This would be a league of people united in that purpose. This would be a League of Justice.

League of Justice: #2.4: “The Hideous God of War”

Gotham City

“Alfred, do you know what I remember about that night?”

Bruce Wayne and his butler, surrogate father, and friend Alfred Pennyworth sat by Bruce’s father’s bedside at Gotham General Hospital. As always, the medical monitors beat out a steady rhythm, indicating that while Thomas Wayne yet lived, he was far from alive.

“What do you remember, Master Wayne?”

Bruce and Alfred were sitting in large chairs, as they often did these days, visiting Thomas. Since Bruce’s abduction by the terrorist Ra’s al Ghul, he had taken to visiting his father more often. Throughout most of his childhood and young adulthood he had avoided the hospital room, preferring not to be reminded of the night his parent’s died.

“I remember bats.”

“Why bats, Master Bruce?”

“There must have been some nesting underneath the rusted fire escapes in that alley. After the gunshots, I heard them squeaking and growing restless. Since then, I’ve often heard bats in my dreams, around the edges, squeaking.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, Master Bruce. You know, we have bats nesting on the grounds of Wayne Manor, now that I think of it.”

“Do we? That seems appropriate, then.”

“Appropriate for what, Master Bruce.”

“For what I am about to do, Alfred.”

“And what is that, sir?”

“I’m going to become the world’s first superhero.”

“You’re what, sir?”

“The world’s first superhero. I’ve been planning it my whole life. When my parent’s died, I vowed that such a horrible thing would never happen to anyone ever again. After a while I learned that such a vow was impossible, but I’ve also learned much about how the world works. One thing I know for sure: Gotham City is corrupt and full of evil. If I cannot rid the world of such evil, I will work to rid Gotham of as much of it as I can.”

“A lofty goal, sir, but you’ll hardly need to be a superhero to do so.”

“No. I could become a cop or a lawyer or politician, but all of those people have to work inside the law, inside the system. Our system is broken. It needs to be destroyed before it can be good and whole. Besides, I cannot be hampered by laws which I would have to obey. I need to be more than just another cop. I need to be a symbol, something for good people to rally behind, to support, to take hope from.”

“What symbol, sir?”

“I was thinking bats, Alfred. I was thinking of becoming the Bat Man.”

“Evocative. I assume this persona will also be a way to hide your true identity as Bruce Wayne, then, sir? To protect your ordinary self from the crimes of your super hero?”

“Actually, its the other way around. I am Batman. I am that hideous god of war. Bruce Wayne will be the persona that protects Batman from the crimes of the ordinary world.”

For the first time, Alfred looked sad.

“It’s nothing I haven’t already been doing, Alfred.”

“Oh? I haven’t heard anything about a Batman.”

“No, but there have been rumors growing of a Phantom Stranger…”

It took only a second.

“So that’s what you’ve been doing with your time. I wondered.”

Bruce smirked.

“But it is time for the Phantom Stranger to be replaced by an even darker and more powerful knight of justice.”

“How will you achieve this Batman, sir? Have you suddenly sprouted wings or fangs or some other extraordinary powers?”

“I am rich, Alfred. Anything I need I will either design or buy for myself. The rest of Batman is already provided for. I wasn’t lying when I said I was already Batman. Batman does not need super powers. He only needs resolve and the will to fight injustice. That resolve I have. Besides, during my time with Ra’s al Ghul, I learned much.”

“I thought you were being held for ransom, sir.”

“I was. But Ra’s said even a prisoner needs to learn. So he taught me the ways of his Underground. He taught me combat, tactics, deception, and even a little theatricality. He was not content for me to sit in a cell for all those months. After a few months, I learned what he taught to escape. I then traveled the world, learning what I could from other organizations. I spent time with the Israeli army. I worked with the Russian navy. I was even a smuggler for the Taiwanese for a month. There is a reason I didn’t return until November that year. I was in training. Now I am ready. I am going to attend Gotham City College, and start working at the Applied Sciences division of Wayne Enterprises. That way I can further my education, cement a reputation as Bruce Wayne, and develop the tools Batman may need.”

“A worthy plan, Master Bruce. May I say: I will assist you however you need. You see, I made a vow of my own, to your father and his father before him to always protect and assist the members of his family. As you are taking on the role of the protector of a city, you’ll need someone to help protect you. I am, as always, your humble butler, sir.”

“Thank you, Alfred. That means more than you’ll know. Now, if you don’t mind, I want a few minutes with my father alone.”

“Of course, Master Bruce. I’ll be warming up the car.”

With that, Alfred left.

So, the boy has become a man. Alfred thought. My instincts were correct and I am indebted to Ra’s. An angry, unguided youth left and a determined, purposeful man has returned. A batman. No, THE Batman. If I were Gotham’s criminals, I would tremble this night. An avenger is coming, and their time is now limited. I must now ensure that Bruce does not become lost inside this monster he seeks to create. I must not loose him as I lost his mother and father. I must work to protect the boy they entrusted to me.

League of Justice #1.7: “A Weary Life”

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Little Dinah loved the smell of cookies baking on a rainy evening. Somehow the damp air inside the efficiency apartment made the smell carry farther, not that there was all that much space. Anyway, it made the apartment smell like love, because Dinah always knew her mother loved her as she baked cookies. The Drake family never had much money, and things like cookies were a luxury, at least the store bought premium cookies. But when her mother splurged food stamps on chocolate chips and made cookies, Dinah felt that something extra special was happening.

Even at 15, Dinah still loved the smell of chocolate chip cookies. Her mom was in the kitchen baking, and Dinah was doing her homework.

Suddenly the door to the apartment slammed open, the door jamb splintering under sudden assault.

“Where are you, whore?!” A massive white man with a thin mustache and slicked-back hair charged into the apartment. Behind him were two bald, white thugs with shiny hand guns. Dinah’s mother ran from the kitchen.

“Not here, Marko. For God’s sake, my daughter is here!”

“Shove it. Bitch aught to know what a whore her mother is. You busted up my friend.”

“He tried to rape me.”

Marko laughed, too loud and too long. “How can you rape a whore? Isn’t that what they are for?” His thugs chuckled. “Bitch, I sent you a premium client and you scratch up his face? Ain’t good for business.”

“Fuck you, Marko. He wasn’t following the rules.”

“Goddamnit, bitch. My rules. My friend. You are as stupid as you are ugly.”

Finally, Dinah had enough. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She thought her mom worked as a waitress, but apparently she had a side business as a two-dollar darling.

“Shut up! You can’t talk to my mom like that! Get out of here!”

Marko responded with a vicious backhand that sent Dinah sprawling. Before anyone could react, he pulled a small pistol and shot Dinah’s mother through the eye. Blood and brains splattered the living room wall. It was then Dinah found her voice. She screamed.

The sound was piercing, loud, and powerful. Glass everywhere in the apartment shattered, the thugs grabbed their heads, and Marko’s ears started to bleed. Dinah stood up and screamed again. Marko sank to the floor and lost his grip on his gun. In that moment, Dinah moved. She grabbed the gun and pulled the trigger again and again and again and again until she emptied the drum magazine. Blowback from what was left of Marko’s face had splashed all over Dinah’s face and shirt. He crumpled to the floor, his head a mass of blood and bone.

Dinah screamed again, this time the thugs just ran, wiping blood from their ears. Dinah fell to the floor sobbing. From the kitchen she could smell chocolate chip cookies burning in the oven. Dinah vomited.

Ten years later…

Dinah sat on her motorcycle as it idled at a stop light. Next to her a bakery was baking fresh chocolate chip cookies. Dinah could smell the cookies baking on the breeze. It made her sick to her stomach. She hated the smell of chocolate chip cookies. As soon as the light turned green, she revved her engine and sped through the intersection. She couldn’t wait to get out of Gotham.

After crying for what seemed like forever that day, Dinah had left the apartment. She never bothered to turn off the oven and discovered the next day that the apartment had burned down and she was presumed dead. The news suited her just fine. From that day, she lived on the streets, bound to nowhere and no one. She even left her name behind, calling herself the Black Canary.

Her mother had always called her that, because ever since Dinah was a tiny girl, she could sing with a beauty that brought tears to her mother’s eyes. “You are my little black canary bird,” her mom would say as Dinah sang and her mother braided her hair. “Sing for me some more, my black canary.” And Dinah would.

For reasons she didn’t understand her larynx could emit sounds at a higher frequency and power than any other she had ever heard of. She made her voice her weapon, as it could incapacitate people with ease, or at a close range, shatter glass, brick or concrete. She could even send resonant waves through metal. The Canary’s Cry she called it.

And so Dinah died, and Black Canary wandered the world, from Metropolis to Gotham and all points in between, and wherever she saw women being taken advantage of, or hurt, or under threat, she made a stand and usually left blood and death and a survivor in her wake.

Dinah never imagined living a life of a vigilante outlaw killer, but then, she never thought she would hate chocolate chip cookies.

Violence changed everything in her life forever.

Finally she reached a highway on ramp leading away from Gotham. Dinah wanted to hole up somewhere quiet and small town-ish for a while. She saw a sign for Metropolis and headed that way, but her destination was a city just outside Metropolis called Smallville. She had heard of a country fair there once, and thought they had a singing competition. Maybe she would enter.

She gunned the engine of her motorcycle and sped off into the brightening day. The storm was past, and a new time was shining through the clouds. Miles raced beneath her wheels and the highway sang a song of peace.

For a rare moment, Dinah smiled beneath her helmet.

League of Justice 1.2: “We End the Heartache”

Gotham City

Rain was simultaneously beautiful and hideous when it fell on Gotham City. It was beautiful in the parts of the grand metropolis that still regained a facade of the respectable and the upright. It cleansed such structures and streets of the grime and filth of Gotham’s crime. It was hideous everywhere else. It overran gutters, flushing sewage down crumbling avenues. It liquified the grit and broken concrete, covering everything in a film of slime and oily ooze. Everything stank worse in the rain, and stuck to your clothes and hands and face.

Even so, Gotham in the rain was better than some places Dinah Drake had seen in the sun. When all you have are bad choices… Dinah mused. She was thankful for her tough motorcycle boots and armored leather. It gave her a layer of protection from Gotham’s muck. It didn’t make her smell any better, but it might reduce the number of showers she would need later. She wished she were astride her motorcycle, then at least she could also wear a helmet, but she needed stealth for this particular job, and her several hundred horses weren’t exactly quiet.

Taking advantage of her dark skin and black leather, Dinah moved from shadow to pool of darkness and back to shadow. Dinah had no idea who her father was, but he must have been of a lighter race than her mother. While still “black” to most people, Dinah was much lighter than her mother. Her mother’s blacker than night skin was velvety smooth, and as a child, Dinah had loved nothing more than resting on her mother’s chest, and staring into her deep, brown eyes. Moments of peace were hard to find in the Drake apartment.

Dinah pushed these thoughts from her mind, and concentrated. Up ahead was her target: Gotham Auto Loan and Pawn. No doubt another vulture picking over the down and out and nearly dead of the last of Gotham’s innocent, but poor, community. Who would be so desperate to remain in Gotham that they would put up their only way out as collateral on bad loans with such an obvious lack of a way to pay?

Dinah looked up and down the street. No one was in sight. This was the time. Closing the distance with quick strides that sent mini walls of water rushing away from her boots, Dinah rushed the door. Without breaking stride she kicked down the door and pulled a sawn off shotgun from beneath her jacket. Pumping a shell into the chamber, she barked at the geezer behind the counter.

“The cash. Now! In the bag!” She tossed a leather saddle bag at him. Going slowly, he fumbled with the keys to the drawer beneath the counter that held the larger bundles of money. The register, as Dinah knew, only held petty cash. “Move faster, old man.” Dinah spared a glance out the door, but still saw no one. Damnit! Where are they? A place such as this should be guarded by mob muscle. That they hadn’t shown was slightly more disturbing than if they had.

Finally the bag was filled. The man behind the counter slid it over to Dinah. She grabbed it, lowering her shotgun while doing so.

“Freeze, bitch.” The words were quiet, but dripping with menace. She felt the cold circle of a gun barrel press into her neck, tight against her spine. “One move and I’m raping a headless corpse. I’d do it to, cuts down on the struggling.” Where do all of these sickos come from? Gotham seemed to have more than its fair share of psychotic criminals. “What now?” Dinah kept her voice even.

“Hand the howitzer to Gerald.” Dinah held out her gun. The old man took it and aimed it at her. She gun at her neck backed away. “Spread em, bitch.” Dinah was spun around and shoved up against the wall. She saw then a doorway that she neglected to see when she busted into the place. Rookie mistake. You know better, girl! Her captor, whom she still hadn’t seen, patted along her arms and shoulders, down her back, and then, much more slowly, down her front, making absolutely sure she hadn’t hidden an armored tank division in her bra. Dinah endured the violation. She’d had worse, surprisingly, give this particular creep’s apparent taste. The hands reached her waist. He clicked his tongue.

“Too bad about the leather. I like me some smooth black skin.” Her penchant for jeans didn’t stop him from taking his time making sure she hadn’t stuffed an aircraft carrier down either side of her panties. He moved on to her legs. “Sorry, I left the fishnets and high heels at home, dick.” She took a risk with the insult, but the man just gave a grunting chuckle and finished his assault. “You are one stupid bitch. Now, you’re gonna scream for me.” He shoved himself against her, apparently not caring that he had a witness behind the counter. Still, Dinah obliged. She screamed.

An astoundingly loud and piercing sonic blast emitted from her mouth. The force of it snapped her head backwards and into the creep’s nose. It cracked audibly. In front of her the wall crumbled, cracking outwards from what looked like an impact crater from a non-existent projectile. Spinning, she savagely slammed a knee into the creep’s crotch and while he was sagging to the ground, Dinah screamed again, but with a lower volume and a higher pitch. In fact most of this scream was ultrasonic. The old man groaned and clutched his head. Blood trickled from his nose, ears, and eyes. Every bit of glass in the place shattered. He dropped the shotgun with a clatter onto the counter. Moving quickly, Dinah grabbed the bag of cash and her gun. She stabbed the barrel down into the creep’s face where it moaned from the floor. “Fuck this.” She pulled the trigger. The concussive blast shook the walls and counter. Dinah spun on her heel and ran out into the rain.

Death was nothing new to her, and besides, she felt less remorse than when she crushed a cockroach. Some breathers didn’t deserve the breath. Besides, living a desperate life had moved her past simple morals and quaint righteousness. A long time ago she had been left to fend for herself at the worst possible time in her life. A few years of selling everything and ruining her life out of survivalist necessity had hardened her to the choices she made. When all you have a bad choices, you choose the least worst option. Robbing thieves and murdering murders wasn’t even a bad choice in Dinah’s worldview. This was practically a good day.

A few blocks down the street, she arrived where she had hidden her bike. Securing the saddlebag, she revved the engine. Now that silence was unnecessary, she relished the roar. With a spin of the rear wheel, she shot off down the road. Water cascaded in crystal sheets. With the sun peaking out of the clouds behind her, ahead all she saw were shimmering rainbows.

For a second, the bleak dark world seemed to be a magical place.