This image is a freeze frame taken from video shot by Linden Hudson (amateur photographer). The beauty in the image is professional model Julia Wagner. She was 21 years old when this image was taken. Years ago when she was just 12 years old she was told she had cancer and only had less than 2 years to live. The "Make A Wish" foundation gave her a Quinceanera Party because she wouldn’t make it to 15. She lived on. Her teen years were spent with chemo and surgeries. The tattoo on her body that says "Alice" was one of her cancer stricken friends in a hospital who died. Julia has made it, is an adult now, and is a professional model. The absolute best to you Julia.

Who is Linden Hudson?

CLASSICBANDS DOT COM said: “According to former roadie David Blayney in his book SHARP DRESSED MEN: sound engineer Linden Hudson co-wrote much of the material on the ZZ Top ELIMINATOR album.” (end quote)

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Hello Friends,

This image is a freeze frame taken from video shot by Linden Hudson (amateur photographer). The model is Liz Ashley (Texas girl). A few years ago Liz was on the cover of Hustler Magazine.

Who is Linden Hudson?

CLASSICBANDS DOT COM said: “According to former roadie David Blayney in his book SHARP DRESSED MEN: sound engineer Linden Hudson co-wrote much of the material on the ZZ Top ELIMINATOR album.” (end quote)

===LoA Computer Database===

Clark falls at Kuttler’s feet, bruised and bloody, as Zod landed, he grabbed him by the throat and held tight. "Kuttler-" he gasped. "The JLA teleporters… They-"

Kuttler smiles as he places his hand over Clark’s face. Super indeed. "-Leave behind a residual trace, yes. Think of it as a genetic imprint. With this device, Superman, we’ll be able to latch on to each and every one of those teleporters, tap into their data-banks, that is to say, everyone who has ever used them, and form a link with the Phantom Zone that will drag every single member of the Justice League, the Titans and all your other fanclubs, through the wormhole, with no hope of escape. Poetic justice, no? How many times have you banished one of *us* in the Phantom Zone, or the Source Wall, or in a whole other universe."

"Not- what I was going to say-" Clark groans, as Zod’s grip around his throat tightens.

"Let him go," Kuttler sighs. "If he tries anything, well, *then* you can kill him," he mutters to Zod. The General nods, and marches out of the room.

"Go on."

"Noah, I saw it’s inner workings. It won’t do what you think it will. It will pull in *anyone,* hero or villain! Zod doesn’t want us *in,* he wants his family out, and he’s going to do it by overloading the system," Superman explains.

"Check it, if you don’t believe me."

Kuttler looks at Superman suspiciously, and walks over to the console, looking over the schematics. Putting his phone to his ear, he calls Bane. "That’s not right… The schematics are all wrong… Bane, this is Noah, I-"

A blast of heat vision shoots the phone out of his hand. Zod, had returned.

====Nanda Parbat====

Arthur reaches his hand out to his brother, standing mere inches away from him. "Orm-!" he pleaded, as a gloved hand forced his head into the sand. "How does it feel, murderer?" Manta growled, digging the trident, *his* trident, deeper into his side. "That’s how my father felt."

Orm watched with bated breath. He had no lost love for his brother. The pacifist bastard could’ve taken the surface world any time he wanted, but instead, he begged for peace. Peace! And yet, this… this barbarity wasn’t conquest, but torture, plain and simple.

"You lost my sympathy when you murdered my son. When does it end, Manta?" Aquaman gasped, as he coughed up a mix of sand and blood. Manta knelt beside him, his eyes glowing.
"With you, strung up like those birds."

~

A terrible rumble echoed through the valley. A strike from Mardon’s weather wand had critically damaged the Skull Ship, and as it crashed to the ground, sand flew through the air, knocking back everyone in its’ path, Grodd burst out from the cockpit, his face filled with animalistic rage. Tearing his smouldering cape off, he turned to face McCulloch and Rory, their guns aimed at him. "Rogues…." he snarls, as he pounds his chest, and leaps into the air. As the battle raged on, reignited by the arrival of the Misfits’ allies, the Injustice League ran for cover behind a feeble stack of rocks. Tremors from the crash landing had separated them from their camera crew, and they were terrified. "For god’s sake, we’re pinned down in here, tell me someone’s coming!" Tockman screamed, no longer concerned that his fellow Green Arrow villains might recognise him. Scarlet Skier had flown in five minutes ago, and left just as quickly.
“Big Sir texted G’Nort!” Disaster replied feverishly, narrowing dodging a bright pink arrow fired by an even brighter, rainbow coloured archer.

"How the hell did Big Sir text?" Tockman yelled back, leaping out of the way of falling debris.

"Text to speech mostly," Brown murmured, the only one with any sort of composure.

Removing his clock face, Tockman sighed, exasperated. "You know my next question, Arthur."

"Wait, wait. I found it!" Multi Man cries out in delight, as he goes through Sir’s phone. "Dear Doggie, need help from… dessert man," he finished, his face dropping.

"Dessert… You know, I really could go for a sundae right now…" Tockman said, as he unclasped his cape, and dapped his brow, his stomach now rumbling. “The last time I had a sundae was four months, two weeks, four days, and twenty seconds ago.”

“What? Can’t a man enjoy a banana split?” he added, as his teammates turned to face him, their brief moment of silence shattered with a blur of yellow and black flying above them, and quickly being dispatched by a figure just out of their eyesight.

"Sinestro!" Disaster cried out. "Who the hell took out Sinestro?!"

His question was answered moments later, as a shabby haired, foul smelling man jumped above them, a rusty old lantern in hand.
Ratcatcher looked down at the horrified group,
and, grinning perversely, turns to Cluemaster. "Hello Artie, how’s the stump?"

Arthur looks at Ratcatcher, and as he turns to run, trips and falls on his face. "It’s him!" he yells out, the memory of his disarmament years ago fresh in his mind. "Kill him, kill him now!"
As Otis approaches, giggling to himself, Disaster makes sure to pull himself, Tockman and Pramble out of harm’s way. Whatever history Artie had with him wasn’t worth getting killed over. Now mere inches from his face, Artie began praying softly to himself. He’d already survived a plane crash, this was not how he’d die. And, as Otis drew a blunt knife from his belt…
Pow. Big Sir punches him in the face, knocking him out cold, and reaches out an oversized hand to Cluemaster. "I’m not thanking you, you tub of lard," Brown muttered, as he walked off.

~

Rigger looked out towards the desert, just below them, a ninja, about twenty years old, was thrown to the ground by a mass of fur and teeth- Cheetah. Her claws ripping out his throat, Joey watched helplessly as she began lapping up his blood. King Shark, smelling the still warm corpse, marched over, and dug into the boy’s leg.
Chuck’s hand on his shoulder snapped Joey out of his trance. "It’s ok to be scared, Rig."

Rigger bowed his head. "Scared? Heh. Nah, scary is knowing that every day of my life I could get pulled over, or stopped in the street. And because I have a criminal record, no one would even think twice about it. Knowing that you’ve served your country, but your family’s deaths are written off as cold cases because they ain’t top priority. Or maybe because the building contractors paid off a couple unsympathetic cops. Couple a ninjas? Army of supervillains? Easy peasy!"

Chuck smirked. "Good. Because we’re gonna need you, buddy."

~

As Drury climbed up to the surface, he was met with anarchy. Bodies strewn across the desert, buildings on fire, supervillains indiscriminately killing whoever they could find. ‘This,’ he murmured, ‘Was no place for a child.’ Yet, defying his orders as usual, were his children.
"Hi Dad!" Axel shouts, as he flies past him, a metal crown, Grodd’s, atop his head.

"A-Axel?" he called out, turning to an equally bemused Norbert. "You brought your kids-?" he asked, a note of concern in his voice.

"No," Drury began. "I-"

"Daddy!" Kitten squeals, as she embraces him in a bear hug. Drury turns to the green and orange figure now following after them, a goofy smile on their face.
"Kitten-? McCulloch! Did you bring my kids to a warzone?!"

"Ach, the wee ones insisted," he smirked toothlessly, as he gives Axel a proud high five. "Grand job wi’ tha monkey wee man. Could’ne ha’ doon it without ye."

"Ah, well I owed him, didn’t I?" Axel smiles, gesturing to his metal arm, him and his sister’s attention now turning to the black figure behind their dad.

"Oh, uh, kids. This is your uncle Norbert," Drury mutters, still a little off balance.

"Awesome," Axel grins, but as he sees the look in his dad’s eyes, it fades, as he walks past the group in silence, and enters the palace.

~

Staggering through the desert, and relying on sound alone, Ten’s attention was brought to a familiar snapping of a camera. Watching the carnage unfold, and taking pictures, was Mr Camera. "Simms, you bastard!" he bellowed.

"Take it easy with the language, choir boy, I-" Simms calls out, his words muffled as Reardon tackles him to the ground, and smashes his glass lens. Pressing the button on the side of his mask, Camera activates his flash mode. "Smile!" he laughs, as he fires a series of bright flashes Reardon’s way, before realising his fatal error: Philip Reardon, was blind. "Oh," he gasps, as he’s swiftly knocked out.

====Ra’s’ Palace====

"Justice League. Can you hear me?" a deep voice calls out telepathically.

"Loud and clear, J’onn, good to have you back with us," Clark replies. "I’m engaging Zod, trying to draw him away from the control room. The device they’re building is a Phantom Drive, which, if it reaches full power, can and will generate a wormhole that will suck everyone into the Phantom Zone."

"Understood," Cyborg replied. "Me and Miracle are heading to the server room now, see if we can’t disable it."

"I’ll help draw Zod away," Diana adds, as she soars into the air. "Bruce?"

"I’ve got to find Ra’s," Batman said, as he attaches a sword to his belt. "He’s the only person who might stop this madness."

"You sure, Bats?" Barry asks, as he steals The Fiddler’s violin. "I reckon Bane’s the closest thing we have to a lynchpin."

"Positive."

"Oh for- This isn’t about Walker, is it?" Hal calls out, as he forms a green proton pack with his ring, and sucks up Gentleman Ghost.

…

"Keep this channel open, I’ll let you know if the situation changes," Bruce murmurs, as he walks up a set of stone steps, opens a door, and is pulled through a wall by a large hand.

"We’ve come full circle, have we not?" Bane snarls, as he turns a dial on his wrist. "You, me, and a choice. Do you stop Ra’s? Or do you stop the Society? Last time you couldn’t do either."
He rips a chunk out of the wall, and hurls it at Bruce, who slides under it.

"Tell me. Was it compassion, Batman? Guilt? I bet it was. You can’t help but take in strays, to fuel your self destructive quest, and here you are, about to implode," Bane gloats, as he throws several fast, hard punches.

"What are you talking about?" Batman snaps back.

"There aren’t many who can freely walk into your Batcave, now are there?" Bane smirks, as he picks Bruce up, and throws him against a wall. He reaches for the venom tube on the back of his neck, but is thrown backwards before he can cut it. "You know I planned to kill the Misfits," he continues. "Keep them distracted at a bare minimum, torment them, anything to avoid their interference… And then, an invisible assailant- invisible! lay siege to your very own GCPD. Imagine my surprise when Tetch told me that that man… was none other than Drury Walker?"

"You’re lying!" Batman retorts, as his slams a batarang into Bane’s arm.

"No! When I heard the news, I called him, told him of my plan, that only one thing remained, to tune the Batcave’s teleporter to Kuttler’s network. And he agreed. All it took… was the right persuasion."

"Ra’s… You offered him Ra’s," Bruce gasped, as he swung his body around Bane’s arm, and kicked him in the face, turning to the stairwell.
In turn, Bane grabbed his right leg, and tugged him backwards.

"Goddammit!" he yells, as he punches Bane’s arm. "Ra’s will kill him!"

"Let him! Forget about Walker. Forget about Ra’s. And face *me,*" Bane exclaimed angrily, as Batman finally freed himself from his grip. Panting for breath, he reaches for his grapnel gun, and aims it at the balcony above. "Do you know what you are, Bane? You’re a college football star, you never grew up, you never changed. You’re just stuck reliving that one match you won. The one goal you scored. The one time you broke me. And you’re not worth it," he sighed, as he scaled the stairwell.

"Face me!" Bane screamed back.

"No," Batman muttered, as he approached the League of Assassins’ Archives.
Bane paused, lost for a second, and then he yelled back "I sent Tommy Elliot, Batman! I sent Hush after Selina Kyle! Now fight me!"

As Bruce places his hand on the doorknob, he turns around. "No. You didn’t."

"Was it worth it, Ra’s?" Bruce calls out. Gaige lies sprawled on the floor, blood dribbling from his mouth, his body slowly rising and falling from each slow breath he takes.

"Yes," he said. "After all, Detective, it brought me you. "Don’t you see, the world is changing, it’s finally moving forward, and I want you by my side, by my daughter’s side when it does." He turned around, and Batman could finally see the damage Gaige had wrought. His face was scarred with three deep marks, like a tiger’s claw. His right arm hung loosely, barely in its’ socket, and his left eye was white. Colourless.
"This was all for you, Detective. All so that you might follow my example, and finally, finally take command of the League of Assassins."

"You maniac," Batman muttered, aghast. "You genocidal, tyrannical maniac. Look at the bloodshed, look at the people, your people, that have died today, because of Arkham City."

"Progress always has a cost, Detective," Ra’s mused. "The offer stands. Bane could never lead, he’s but a thug. Brutal. Inelegant. My daughters, alone, are unsuitable. But with you- The perfect heir. The perfect specimen. Think of the difference we could make… All that’s left, is to-" he trails off, as he looks at the open doorway. Standing, gun in hand, is Drury Walker.

"Drury? What are you-" Batman begins, but he’s cut off as a stream of webbing sticks him and Ra’s to the ground.

"So I fixed the cocoon gun. Thought you’d like to know," Walker murmurs, as he walks towards Ra’s, and kneels softly beside him.

"Don’t do this-" Bruce urges, as he takes a knife from his belt, and begins whittling away the netting.

"No!" Moth yells back. "I’m done playing second fiddle to you and "your" rogues. This is my story, Bats, mine! And you aren’t taking that from me. Miranda’s dead, her death won’t just be a footnote in the story of the Batman," he says coldly, as he places a cold hand on Ra’s face.

"You ever heard of Quakemaster? How about Geomancer? Nah, I wouldn’t expect you to. But when it comes to C-Listers I’m something of a expert," Drury says, as he reaches into his bag, and lifts out a pair of gloves taken from the GCPD. "I want you to feel the pain, all the pain of everyone you hurt… Everyone you *killed* when you dropped a city on them. Their bones breaking, fracturing, twisting out their skin. Their ribcages collapsing, the dust suffocating, clogging up their lungs. Course, I don’t have the time to mine under *your* city. To build my *own* bomb… Good thing, I don’t need to."

Just as Batman frees himself from the cocoon, a harpoon flies through the air, and lodges itself in his knee, a barely conscious Gaige nodding to Walker. The look he gives says everything he needed to hear. ‘For her,’
Drury places the gloves on Ra’s chest, he can’t move, he can’t fight back, the cocoon gun has make sure of that, and pushes down, vibrations shaking through his body, his bone’s crushed, he struggles to speak. And when he thinks he’s suffered enough, Drury picks up a blade, Ra’s sword- and rams it through his chest. Just like he did her.

} Part 7 of 7. This is the last installment of what has been the Flickrverse’s backstory of Clayface. For the complete final arc, start at “Reprise”. I want to express a thank you (that can’t even begin to be big enough) to Duncan Young, Lord Allo, and though they are inactive, Brute Eatin and FeelOkayInc as well, for that first invitation to be canon in the universe they started. And also, to anyone that’s stuck through even one of these stories, or left a kind comment: This really has been a blast, because of you.

The charge is fleeting. Morgan immediately butts heads with Bonecrusher and comes to a standstill. Ivy vaults out the way of several gunshots, with the aid of a stalk erupting through the pavement. Electro uses the plant as cover to retaliate with his own blaster. I head straight for Flannegan, still standing over my son, but Diablo throws up a funnel of fire in my way.

Zodiac: To hell with this. I’m a lover, not a fighter.

He releases smoke pellets from a cancer symbol on his suit, and just as the King of Cats lunges for him, he vanishes.

Electro: Recreant deserter!

Sims still stands out of range, surveying the pandemonium. He shakes his head at me.

Myself (glowering): You’ll beg for death, Sims. For me.

Sims (ignoring me, his words finally having tired): The big man sends his regards. He couldn’t make it, but he wanted you to know he’s thinking of you.

At that, I begin to realize several faces in the sea of challengers before me are painted. Pastel cheeks. Bright hair. Clowns. HE was still there, in the background, taunting me. I barrel through three of the henchmen, slicing one across the chest. Sims only smiles.

***

Garfield Lynns clambers out of the rubble. His hand is still tight around his tool’s trigger, but little more than a spark spurts forth in response. Fuel is leaking from his tanks fast. And three of Sims’ lackeys are approaching: Planet Master, some hulking devil… thing, and that green creep that was sucking up to Sims.

Gar (only half-kidding): … Batman?

Bulb: He’s taking a swim.

Burke: Any less-pathetic last words?

Gar: Gosh, uh, how does Sims taste?

Burke (lowering his palms): I don’t get it.

Bulb: I do. Let’s haul him back there so the boss can take this chump’s ‘headshot of death’. I didn’t develop my greatest handiwork for it to be used ONCE.

NKVDemon: I kill him here. Camera doesn’t need them all for himself.

Burke: But I wanna try the suit out on-

Bulb: NEVER MIND, someone just off him!

NKVDemon: до свида́ния, little bug.

Gar: Okay, what I really meant was…

He discreetly taps his flamethrower’s muzzle to the fuel puddle.

Gar: Burn.

The trail ignites and flows into Gar’s wrecked pack. It detonates, propelling Gar straight into Burke, too fast for NKVDemon to take aim, and back towards Karlo and the others. The blast also catches Bulb, flinging him, alight and screeching wildly, into the water.

***

I’ve gained next to no ground on Diablo, continuously swarmed by underlings and nobody-villains. In my peripheral vision, Morgan has thoroughly taken Harbinger’s Bonecrusher body out of the fight, but is being menaced by Swagman, Pyg and Karl. Ivy is still on the defense, and Electro is running headlong into a billowing ash cloud for a kill. I try to tear away and assist even one of them, only to be assaulted with the sensation of railroad spikes easing into my brain, and a nauseating, distinctive tune being hummed. Tetch had gotten within range. I thrash about blindly, but couldn’t land a single blow, even on the odd minion. Then it ceases, and I’m greeted by Gar holding his flamethrower like a mallet; Tetch, with a bruised jaw, dazed at his feet.

Gar (already dashing away from a hail of gunfire): Don’t take on Sims yet! His secret weapon… I think it’s in his h-

That’s all I can make out before Burke floats down and a gravitational surge tosses car-sized chunks of cement at me from every direction. I briefly make contact with my son’s stare before I’m entombed by the avalanche.

***

Ivy endures her plants cries as they choke on the flames that are now spreading everywhere. A few Joker goons are wrenched into the ground by enraged roots. She spies Anarky, on the heels of Gar, and scoops him up easily in a tangle of wicked-looking briar thorns. He howls, until he realizes it’s only heightening the agony. Ivy draws him closer.

Ivy (venomously): My son is going learn you and your friends are not the most terrifying force in Gotham. I am.

Ulysses (excruciatingly collecting himself in his final breath): There’ll be more h-… after me. Ngh… I AM Gotham.

His thumb pulls taut a cord under his jacket; his vest is rigged. Ivy narrowly grows a mass of branches in front of herself as the explosion shakes the entire yard.

***

The shockwave helps clear the debris suffocating me, but I make it no more than a step outside my crater before Burke has attacked again, icing me over to a Plutonian temperature. I’m helpless as I see NKVDemon approaching Gar’s hideaway; Diablo, readying to torch a pile of lumber Ivy may or may not be alive under. Electro springs out of a recently-formed ditch and zaps Dorian with his firearm. Before my eyes, the mad doctor shrinks to the size of a tangerine, and Electro gleefully crushes the pitiful thing. I would have gladly turned away, if not for my cocoon. What have I wrought?

Electro’s celebration is cut off by shrapnel ripping into his shoulder. He trips. I hear a muffled decree of revenge before he hits a button on his belt and warps into nothingness, just as Swagman fires at him again. Morgan bolts at him from behind, with Pyg’s cleaver wedged in his collarbone. Swagman draws his own blade and the pair tussles up and over a trench carved in the concrete, out of sight. Burke hasn’t let up on my prison for one moment. Sims… I see Sims looking hideously pleased. He’s about to call it a wrap.

?: A bloodbath, and I reccceived no invitation? I ssshould be insssulted.

a second, deeper rasp, piercing the battleground: Bad call, Camera. Word travels fast in our line of work… I didn’t even ask the coin for this one.

A Thompson submachine gun being cocked finally betrays the location of the echoing voices. Sims’ forces turn as one to see Two-Face and his gang, Dr. Hellfern, The Mad Monk and even Magan, marching in behind me. Some of my oldest comrades. I hadn’t even asked them.

Magan: Hhnngm FNGND.

Sims: … What?

Hellfern (injecting something into his forearm): Er sagte, … ”you’re fucked.”

Diablo acts faster than anyone, lobbing two quick fireballs at the group. Magan unpacks his sandblaster and turns it on the projectiles. The collision fuses the sand to glass, and multitudes of shards fly into Diablo’s eyes, as well as a few larger ones into Burke’s suit. They aren’t dead, but their successive moans tell me that prospect wouldn’t be entirely disagreeable to them. The Mad Monk darts forward, displacing clowns like water, hurling a few straight up. Hellfern is now metamorphosing into a gangling monster, protrusions of unnatural bone all along his back.

Hellfern: Now I have become death.

Pyg (the first in Hellfern’s path): Oh my… you *snort* are ALREADY perfect…

Hellfern backhands Pyg, joining in The Monk’s carnage. Gar and I are freed now, back to back with Dent, as everyone Sims has left rallies. I can’t see Ivy; the rain has increased, and the entire area is a smoldering maze.

***

Ivy stirs under the wood pile, feeling a cold hand on her arm. It’s… The Mad Monk? When did…

Tepes: Ssstay out of sssight; I can sssmell internal bleeding.

She ignores him, standing with some travail. An atrocious creature with Doctor Death’s unmistakable facial hair teeters after the vampire, dragging a body like a doll.

Tepes: The boy, Hellfern! Ssspare only the one that appearsss as Clayfaccce!

Ivy sees they’re making a beeline for Sims and Flannegan; the two, along with her son, are almost backed up to the water’s edge. All their defenses are occupied by Basil. She meets Sims’ eyes from a distance. There’s worry in them. And she savors it.

Sims (pushing along his feeble captive and directing Flannegan with a nod): That’d be your department.

Tepes is upon him first. With his staff, Flannegan counters three swipes from the hooked, undead fingers, and with a fourth move, drives the blunt end into Tepes’ neck. The Monk gurgles and bellows, as Flannegan snaps his own weapon in half, bashing Tepes in the forehead the lantern, and finally thrusting the final section of the rod into his heart. Ivy hasn’t managed more than a few yards, in her condition.

Flannegan: And the next…

Hellfern wails like a phantom, slashing at his much shorter foe. Flannegan lures his attacks towards a stack of tires, rolling out of way for Hellfern to stab into the rubber and negate their lethality. The swings are still powerful though, and just one nicking Flannegan’s calf slings him upside down into a brick wall. Hellfern fails to finish the job, however, downed by two potshots in the skull, courtesy of NKVDemon. The Russian himself receives several stray bullets seconds later, from Two-Face’s gun.

Ivy sees her opportunity, but falters as she nears Flannegan. He wipes a glove on his leg, and bends down to her. He removes his mask.

Flannegan (hovering close enough to feel her breath): Go ahead, plant one on me.

Her fist flies up, but not to his face. A sizable, lush tree with green fruits pushes through the ground, but no vines or barbs reach out at Flannegan. She slumps.

Flannegan: Cute. Yeah, not really my type anyway.

He stretches, looking up at the rain trickling through the leaves and onto his eyes.

Flannegan: You know, I would’ve helped you and Basil if you’d come to me first. Just the luck of the draw. You both could’ve stood to be mor- agh… gAAH… HAUUG-

The sap of the manchineel tree behind Flannegan has already begun exhibiting its blistering effects, only spurred on by the rain carrying it. Ocular and respiratory damages, Ivy knows, will follow next. She and Flannegan both crumple.

***

Magan, Gar and Two-Face are all pinned down, but there doesn’t appear to be any more heavy-hitters to have a chance at slowing me. Sims must still be trapped along the shore. I start to transform into a Joker thug, but I’m blindsided by someone we’ve all overlooked: Hagen. Still taking cheap shots. We trade punches and attempts to draw in the others’ mind, ending in a stalemate just far enough from Sims, and my son, to be seen through the haze.

Myself (to Hagen, via our current telepathic link): I’m sure you’d like to think you’re my arch-enemy, Hagen, but I’m killing you quickly. Not even for Cassie will I give you the satisfaction…

Hagen (also through the link, barely warding off my onslaught): Cassie… alive. Please… make it seem… I’m dead… or Sims will… my friends…

Sims cannot see from his position that Hagen’s hand is stretched out to a manhole, a portion of himself preparing to sever.

Hagen (pleading): I failed his plan… Please Basil… I have… other life.

Any longer and Sims will know something is wrong. I steel myself, hardly believing it as I allow just enough of Hagen to wriggle out of sight. The faintest “Thank-“ reverberates through what I still have left of him in my clutches. Then I lay it on hard, for Sims’ enjoyment.

Myself (with the Hagen decoy): This… is what I promised you… for stealing from me!

Sims sees me consume what he thinks is the last of Hagen, and he fidgets slightly as I turn to him. My sons eyes are so, so empty now.

Myself: Release him. You can’t do anything else.

Sims (hoisting the boy to his feet): Y’know how I know you’re wrong? Because what I’m going to kill you with, I already tried out. On Sloane. Yeah, he DID remember you. I had Hagen replace him because that imbecile, after you burned his face off, FORGAVE you, in his last moments. So I put the sap out of his delusional misery.

I’m at a loss. What could I say, “How could you”? After what I had done?

Sims: Gotham’s underworld is stagnating, with the likes of you at the helm. I’ll be giving back to the lifestyle you claimed to care about… once you’re a lifeless mound.

Can my son hold himself together if he should fall in the water? Don’t let this happen…

Myself: I sent you down the wrong path… Harry. I never would have let you take this road if I knew-

Sims (through his teeth): That I would be better than you at it! You. STILL. Can’t say it!

Myself: Let me be a better father to him than I was to you. I can’t fix anything here, only move past.

Sims (ready to shove the boy): Save it!

A sudden splash startles us both, and a cord fired from the bay a few meters out snags Sims’ pant leg. He hollers as The Batman, still grappling with the yellow scuba diver, succeeds in toppling him. I react just in time to catch my son, who made no movement to stop from falling in himself. And like that, at long last, my child is there, in my arms. He looks like me, but I can’t feel me at all when I hold him; he’s really himself. His own.

Myself: Do you know me?

He finally overcomes his trance. His hand tries to point at me.

Myself: Do you know… your mother?

My son (now extending a hand to the ground): Cold… below…

More violent breaches of the water’s surface ring out, and I’m reminded of our need to flee. Gar is a distance away, just now making it through a stilled battlefield.

Gar (checking his back): Basil? You got him, let’s go!

Myself (to my son, as I begin to lead him away to cover): I understand. I’ll take you back to the sewer. You’ll never have to see any of this again.

His grip now equals my own, and I know he comprehends. I would make good on what I said to her all that time ago. He would be my one wise choice. Not a repeat. Not a mistake. She could heal him again. Knowing that, I could rest.

***

Sims flounders and sputters. Tiger Shark still hasn’t done away with The Bat. And now, Basil is going to get away… The thought flows through his veins, and gives him new strength. He kicks and claws his way out of the mess of cable and cape, overflowing with loathing. He rockets straight onto land on his stomach, letting loose a bloodcurdling shriek, flicking the new mechanism behind his mask. The helmet is waterlogged, but he hears Gar’s concerned cry to Basil; he’s in range. Sims takes the shot.

***

Gar sees Basil and the kid rounding a barrier from Sims’ attack, as he falls back himself, behind a container, shutting his eyes. There’s still a white puff that penetrates his lids, and for an instant, he thinks he’s done for. But he still feels the gravel under his head. The newly acquired burns. He cracks one eye, then crawls back to the open.

There’s Basil… or his son?.. Standing over… dust. Already the pile is being carried away in the runoff.

Gar: Jesus… Basil?

They don’t say anything, just stand like a statue, save for trembling hands. Sims, folded over the dock, rips off his helmet. He too witnesses the scene, and begins half-choking, half falling over himself in hysterics.

Sims (in stitches): It… it doesn’t matter! Ha ha… It’s even more perfect in a way… It…

A spray of bullets scares Sims into submerging. Two-Face hikes up into the scene.

Two-Face: Which of them..?

Gar: I don’t know.

Ivy is has found it in herself to rise again. She sees the last of the unknown victim slide away, in addition to the survivor standing over it. He looks at her with such departure and a quality of lostness. It’s her turn as a statue when the Clayface still living descends into a grate. Gar sprints to it, calling out, but they’re gone.

***

Sims regains his head as Tiger Shark throws him down.

Sims: We’re on… ground…

Tiger Shark: My sub. Bats is shish kebab-ed, good as dead. Now cough up.

Sims (breaking into a laugh again): Good as dead. Aheh. GOOD, as dead. As most things ar-

Tiger Shark (punching him): You full of it? I want my payment, asshat.

Sims (composing momentarily): You’ll get your fortune. The previous holder… won’t miss it. He hasn’t for a while. H-ha…

Tiger Shark (dropping him again): I plan to wear a REAL suit before my career is up, you get me? I’m done with this dress-up crap. You try to get funny, I’ll feed you your hands.

Sims pets the photo in his pocket. Damaged, but distinguishable. Basil Karlo’s last moment alive. It will need a frame.

***

Ivy turns as The Mad Monk, singed and impaled, joins the rest.

Tepes (removing the skewer): Amateursss, ssstill consssulting fairytalesss to ssslay me…

Two-Face: If that putz didn’t drown, he and I are having words… Where are you headed, Lynns?

Gar: … Drink.

Ivy cradles Morgan’s massive head. He now carries Swagman’s machete in his chest too. The blood has pooled as high as his heels.

Morgan: Did Basil… get…

Ivy: Yes.

Morgan (every syllable arduous): He told me… your son. Back when he was better… he liked Creighton. For a name. Had he said…

The bestial man’s muscles stop being ridged. Ivy’s head bows.

Tepes (walking with Hellfern’s broken form): He mussst be returned to hisss lab, with hassste.

He pauses only briefly, before soaring away.

Tepes: My… condolensssesss.

Magan punts a rock.

Two-Face: One of them was still there! Go after him, before-

Ivy: He won’t come back. Neither of them. Whichever one it was.

***

Cassie sits up. Not the first time she had done so, greeted by broken ribs and a nasal cannula. God she hated those. Alfred is standing by, alerted by the same thing that roused her: The Batmobile returning to base. She goes to hop up before Alfred gives her a sad, stern look.

Bruce (bounding out of the car’s cockpit, the engine running): Some of them got away. Kyle. Zodiac. Tetch. I need footage from the entire district.

Alfred: The computer is still irreparable. Sir… the harpoon in your arm-

Bruce (already having located gauze and forceps): Is the reason I’m not telling you this over comms. Find another way. Gordon’s officers can’t round them all up in time; a new one got away aboard a submarine.

Cassie: Basil?

Bruce: You’re in that bed because of him. Worry about recovering.

Cassie: He had to have known I’d survive the fall. Maybe he was forced to. They had his son…

Bruce is already patched up, Alfred trailing and scolding him all the way back down to the Batmobile.

Cassie (laying back): I know it wasn’t you Basil. It had to have been something…

***

News gets around before dawn. Claims to the bodies in the street, most of them false boasts. Money traded from a few macabre bets on the outcome. And Gotham would see no shortage of villains even now. The lowest of the low were emboldened. The mainstay masterminds and gangsters’ trigger fingers were faster than ever. Seeds of rivalry now planted would ensure for the city’s unrest and a hundred more wars to be fought in the night.

In a rundown carnival, a pair of red lips arches with glee, while a battered henchman tells the whole story again. The Clown Prince of Crime kicks up his spatterdashes and toys with an old VHS of the original “Dread Castle” in one hand, and a root beer float in the other.

“Here’s mud in your eye, Karlo. I’ll thank the academy for you.”

***

Ext. A farmers’ market – The next day

Matt Hagen: Carrots, two-forty a bundle? You keep trying to rob us, and I’ll give you your own supervillain name.

The lady grocer across from him: You are perfectly within your rights to take your business elsewhere, pal.

They both laugh.

Matt (paying): My cat likes them; please, show some mercy.

Grocer (still acting): I only make exceptions for friends.

Matt glances around while she’s opening the cash register. No cameras. No stalkers.

Matt: Ouch… say listen, if it’s not indelicate, I haven’t asked… why are you here? In Gotham, not the market, I mean.

Grocer: It’s my hometown, I’ve alway loved it here, especially summer.

Matt rolls his eyes.

Grocer: Yeah, well, what’d you think? I’m stuck here for now. Who isn’t?

Matt: You know, I could leave anytime. I’m kind of over this place. Most of it, anyway. I might even ask a friend to tag along.

Grocer (smirking): Sounds adventurous for the person that always gets carrots, two bags.

Matt: It’s just… someone I knew, who I thought wouldn’t have given me the time of day, did something really amazing for me recently. I think it’s time I let some people in myself. Shed my layer.

***

Int. “My Alibi” – 2:47 AM, right after the dust had settled

Drury Walker: … Just like that? Where’d Sims, and Batman, and that… other guy go?

Gar: Underwater. I don’t know Dru.

Drury: I can’t believe… Sewer King too.

Two-Face: Maybe it wouldn’t be so unbelievable if you’d BEEN there, Moth.

Gar (downing a shot): Piss off Dent, s’nothing he could’ve done.

Drury opens his mouth but says nothing.

Two-Face: Well it turned out there was nothing ANY of us could’ve done. What this stripy oaf failed to acknowledge, same as Sims, Flannegan, all those others, is that Basil was a founder. Of everything that IS, now, for Gotham’s criminals. And if you respected the ounce of credibility YOU have, you’d have SHOWED.

Len (without looking up, with fingers laced on his counter): You can rant out there.

Two-Face: Another softy. It goes for you too, Eraser, you greasy…

He kicks over a stool and points at Drury as he goes.

Two-Face: Don’t let me see your face until you can say you protect the likes of us. That you’ll risk something. I won’t hold my breath.

Magan passes Len Basil’s knife, recovered from the scene, before stepping out.

Len: And Ivy. She’s long gone by now?

Gar: Get me another one of these.

Drury: I swear I would’ve gone, but I’ve, eh, met someone. Being there, on Clayface’s side… it’s that new Tiger guy. If he’d seen me, there’s no way he’d let me near… what I mean to say is, I need his approval with…

Gar: Hey, am I blaming you? And am I asking?

Drury: … Do you love anyone?

Gar: God I need to be more drunk than this.

Len: Lay low for a while. You’ve got a gimmick, you’ve got heart. You’ll make it big one day.

Drury: I’d be there, for either of you guys. One day, I swear it. What other family am I ever going to have?

The End {

====LoA Computer Database====

"Perimeter breach. Perimeter breach," the alarm blared again and again. Brainiac’s ship had done it’s work. It’d broken through the shields, and blasted a hole into the side of Ra’s fortress. Now hundreds of Bane’s puppets were running inside, killing everyone they could find.
That meant, Cypher thought, he had to act fast.

He was well aware of what the Misfits thought of him now. A traitor, a backstabbing bastard who’d thrown away everything to help a genocidal tyrant. They… They were wrong.
When he’d returned to the Demon’s Head the day after Butchinsky’s funeral, and briefed him on Walker’s failure, *he* was the one that had fought for him. He’d told Ra’s how he’d used the last of the Lazarus Water on Pike, knowing full well it’d be a death sentence for him and his family. That that, was true honour. It even seemed like Ra’s agreed, that he’d be lenient towards Walker and his brood.
No. Instead, he had Ubu cut off his hands with a blunt sword. He’d lost his tongue long ago, but now he couldn’t even sign, Cypher lamented. These cybernetics couldn’t possibly do the same job. So when he pulled the Wasp away from that Earthquake machine, when he mouthed "Sorry," he truly meant it.

As gunfire rained down the hallways, as his brothers and his sisters in the League of Assassins were being torn apart, he knew, this was it. But, as he typed on the console, he hoped that just maybe this would atone for his mistakes. Maybe…

"Not one for words," he began. "Prefer actions. The Society have breached Nanda Parbat. Threat imminent. Mistakes made. Alliances broken. Follow co-ordinates. Help. Please. For Butchinsky. For-"

The door slams open. Voices filling the room. Six of them by his estimate. "- told me that they kept it in a chamber down that passage, sure to be heavily guarded," the first, an old, gruff man says.

A second voice, Spanish, continues. "Good. Faust, go with Orm and collect it, would you? General, Slade, with us."

"Oh, I thought you’d never ask. Come along, Prince," a third voice says, as another, a faint fourth one hisses "King."

"Come on, tech lab’s this way, just need to- "

BANG.

Cypher falls to the ground, his mask rolling to a stop at Slade’s feet. He holsters his gun, and takes a step over the body. As the light leaves his eyes, Kuttler pauses.
Bane, noticing this, looks down, and then back at Noah. "Who was he?" he asks.
Kuttler looks at the body on the ground and straightens his glasses. "I have no idea"

===The Courtyard===

"God," Needham murmured, a slight look of disgust plastered on his face, as he stares at a purple and yellow clad supervillain flying around in the distance. "They let *Fish* in?"

"I hear he’s pretty good," explains Rigger, surveying the battle, before a set of three League Assassins pull Bragg to the ground and start beating him with truncheons. "Slipknot was a fucking liar…" he gasps in shock. Beside them, Chuck and Chancer grab their weapons off the fallen ninja, while Gar sits on the ground, watching Shrike’s body burn, the fabrics slowly melting and sticking to his flesh, his screams barely audible above the crackling flames.
Volcana, looks down at him curiously. "Gar, you don’t look pleased to see me. What’s wrong? Did you not get that last check or-"
Gar pauses, the images from the village burnt into his mind. Women, children… All burned to ash. "I saw… The village, Clair, tell me you didn’t do it."

She sighs, murmuring half heartedly. "Fine, I didn’t do it."

Gar nods softly, before clearing his throat. "Now tell me the truth."

She snorts in derision. "Oh, Gar, please."

"Clair!"

She raises her hands out, irritated. "Christ almighty, I didn’t do it, Effigy did."

Gar pauses. There was a name he’d not heard in a while… "Effigy-?"

"Well, Human Flame tried, but his nipple nozzles backfired, poor thing."

"Guy really should invest in a proper flamethrower," Gar smiles weakly, as she hands him back his helmet. "So, we good?"

Clair runs her hand through her red hair, smirking. As Shrike attempts to get up, she kicks him in the face. "Oh, sure. Just one thing," she begins, her eyes glowing red. Gar takes a step back. Chuck’s jaw clenches.

"Did you get a sitter for Josie?"

Gar cocks his head to one side, in shock. "Y-yeah, I got Creegan to babysit."

"Well, there’s a small mercy. Oh, there’s blood on my sleeve, could you wipe it off?"

====LoA Computer Database====

‘You’re a figurehead who built his reputation off of my back. You’re nothing to them.’

Lies, I am Bane.

‘You think that gives you leverage on Sinestro? Grodd? Ocean Master? They’ll abandon you just like they did Luthor.’

‘You’re nothing. You’re nothing. You’re nothing.’

Batman’s words echoed in Bane’s head. Months had passed since Arkham City, and in that time he’d done so much, yet here, on the eve of his greatest triumph… He felt empty.
He looked out the window. Below, the battle continued. The Fisherman fires a hook into Red Hood’s shoulder, and reels him in along the ground. Nightwing throws an ecrisma stick at his head, knocking him unconscious, as he rips the hook out of Jason’s arm.
Beside them, the Matter Master turns a Talon to coal, while an enormous woman, Giganta, crushes several beneath her feet.
As a dozen more ninja leap into action, a blue man, Typhoon generates a whirlwind, drenching them all with water. Livewire proceeds to electrify the liquid, frying everyone nearby.
As Hawkgirl swoops in, in an attempt to keep them all from killing one another, she’s hit by a solid rainbow, atop it, Roy G. Bivalo, and a hoarde of others. He can just faintly hear one murmur "I’ll never live this down."

"Funny, isn’t it? This was once a place of healing, many men and women came here to find guidance, and themselves. Until the League of Assassins claimed it as their own," a voice called out, a wry smile on Felix Faust’s face.

"Is that it-?" Bane asks, transfixed by the golden orb in Faust’s hands.

"Yes. The Heart of Nanda Parbat… There are stories, legends about it. It’s said that its’ host to the souls of the Nanda Parbat monks- the guardians of this temple long before the League. Hundreds of them, their very essence, are held within. It could power entire cities for a millennia. Or destroy them. What’s wrong?" he adds, noticing the creases of a frown beneath Bane’s mask.

"Nothing," he replies, though his tone suggested otherwise. "Any sign of the Batman?"

"On the front lines, I’d have thought-?"

Bane stiffens up. "Just place the orb in Kuttler’s machine. That, will be all."

====The LoA Archives====

Ra’s rips the harpoon from his hand, greyish blood trickling onto the floor, a gaping hole through his palm. It… should have healed. Gaige fires again, but this time, he catches it with his free hand. ‘A poisoned tip,’ he reasons.

"You know what I had to pay to get that?" Gaige snarls, as he picks a large battle-ax from off the wall, "I thought it was too much at first, but now? Reckon it was worth every penny," he chuckles mirthlessly "To see that look of pain on your face. The poison attacks healthy cells, rips them apart piece by little piece. Takes a good few hours, that. But for a *freak* like you, with a healing factor, it becomes locked in a frenetic battle. It can’t kill you, but it *can* cut you off from your little… augmentations. In short-" he says, stabbing a knife into his shoulder. "Feel that?"

"Guards!" Ra’s screams. "Talia!"

"No one’s coming, and you wanna know why? Because you’ve not cheated death, you never had… You only slowed it- no. No, truth is, you’ve perverted it. Look at yourself, running on fumes."

"Perhaps, Gaige," Ra’s wheezes, as he slides a knife from out of his boot. "But perhaps that’s enough."

====LoA Computer Database====

"Now… for the moment of truth," Kuttler smiles, as he checks his monitors. "Flash Museum online. Atlantean Throne Room online. Oan Science Cells online. Gorilla City Council online. S.T.A.R. Labs online. The Themysciran Embassy online. The Atlantean Embassy online. Ferris Airfield online. The Hall of Justice online. And, finally… The Batcave is… Online. He did it," he grins to his partners; Slade leaning against the wall, and Zod, welding their device together with heat vision.

"He actually came through-?" Deathstroke asks, an air of skepticism in his voice. "Huh."

"Seems so," Kuttler replies. "Revenge, is a hell of a motivator," he looks over his shoulder, and grabs his mug of coffee. "Get out there, Slade. You know you want to. We can take it from here."

Slade perks up. "You sure?"

"Course, now it’s just simple programming. I’ll be fine. Honest."

"You know me so well," Slade replies, as he picks his mask up, and runs outside.

===Darhk’s Laboratory===

As Drury and Norbert made their way through the laboratory, past the remains of long dead test subjects and torture devices, Norbert clears his throat, and reaches out a dark hand to his brother. Drury looks like he might take it for a second, but instead, turns around and continues to walk. "Drury, I’m sorry. She seemed like a good woman."

‘Course she was’ Drury thinks to himself. ‘She was perfect.’ He stops, turning around, he says bitterly "People always tell me how sorry they are. But they’re never sorry enough to actually do something."

Norbert nods. He knew deep down he wouldn’t be able to get through to him, not really. Even when they were kids, he would bottle up his emotions and keep to himself, whenever he’d gotten in trouble with their mother. Sometimes, Norbert dreamt they could’ve had a childhood, a true childhood, without their father’s amoral attempts to get into the Injustice Society. A childhood where he’d never given him over to the Thinker and the Ultra Humanite.
Hell, maybe they could’ve emerged fully functional adults. Wouldn’t that be nice, he mused. "Drury-?" he begins

"Yeah, Norbert?" his brother replies, a note of irritation in his voice.

"I liked the purple mask."

Drury spun around to look at him, the small corners of a smile emerging on his face. "What can I say, times change."

"The green… It’s special. It’s what I started out in, it’s the one I wore when I formed the Misfits, and it’s…" he trails off, tears forming in his eyes. "It’s what I wore when I met her. I thought maybe… Maybe it’d be like a part of her’s still with me. Stupid."

"No," Norbert says, comforting him. "She still is," he whispers, placing his hand on Drury’s chest. "That’s why we still fight."

A slight smile emerges on Drury’s face. "When did you get all sentimental?"

"When you freed me from a life of agony," Norbert smiles back. "Sorry. Bad joke," he mutters, and they turn their attention back to the lab. "What is all this, do you think?" he asks, as he glares at a shelf filled with grey and green vials. Drury’s eyes light up, recognising them almost immediately.
"Dionesium… I were to take a guess, he’s trying to purify it into Lazarus Water."

"Those chemicals could heal so many…" Norbert utters.

"Yeah, or just one," Drury scowls, as he rips a lead pipe from out of the wall, and smashes the cabinet, vial upon vial crashing to the ground, their elilxirs seeping into the floor. "No more last minute saves," he whispers to himself.

====LoA Fortress====

"This is Superman. I’m in," Clark says quietly, as he floats along the hallways, dead ninja and supervillain alike strewn across the floor.

"Good. Polaris has been taking that scrap metal for a reason, Clark. Whatever it is, it’s not good," Bruce’s voice replies on the other end.

"Understood. I’m picking up some radiation spikes, so I imagine it’s…" Clark trails off, as he looks at the familiar console in the center of the room. "Close," he finishes, as places a hand on the console, and a holographic display bursts into life. "It can’t be."

"Clark, what is it? Clark!"

"Go on, tell them," Zod murmurs, as he floats to the ground. Clark puts his hand to his ear, his eyes trained on the General, and at his side, The Calculator.

"It’s… a Phantom Drive. It’s a massive phantom Drive, it’s a Kryptonian device, like an upscaled Phantom Zone Projector, it’s what the council used to banish criminals-"

"Not criminals, Kal-El," Zod says, resting his hand on the device. "Freedom fighters. Revolutionaries. Those who saw the rot and decay behind the "bureaucracy" of the High Council, and those whose ideas were deemed too radical to be allowed to walk free."

"Your ‘freedom fighters’ led a coup that killed dozens," Clark glares.

"For Krypton," Zod barks back.

Clark stares at him. ‘So Bane had you build this, that’s he needed you, I get that…’ he thinks, ‘But why do you need *them?* What could The Society offer-?’

"Where’s your family, Zod?" he asks.

~

"Get down!" Hawkman yells, as he shoves Bruce to the ground, a blast of yellow energy scorching the top of his wings. Beside them, the remaining Leaguers all huddled together in a makeshift trench. The Lanterns were constructing a shield around them, but it wasn’t going to be enough.

"We lost contact with Clark," Bruce reports to the others. "Chances are he’s engaged Zod, but without any visuals, we can’t confirm anything."

"I’ve attempted to form a psychic link with Superman and Aquaman, but there is too much mental interference," J’onn adds. "I fear Gorilla Grodd is transmitting a psionic dampener… I don’t know if I will be of much use."

"It’s all right, J’onn, you’ve done enough," Diana says, as she rests a hand on his shoulder. "Their ship is the key. If we can disable that, the Society is effectively blind."

"We’ve tried!" Hawkgirl yells back. "But there’s nothing big enough to penetrate it, and even if there was, we can’t even get near enough."

"Y’know, this is really touching guys, but I don’t know how long I can keep this shield up," Hal grunts, as the Lanterns strain to keep it together against the barrage of attacks. Above them, Sinestro floats down, Adam at his side, and begins to gloat.

"Justice League. You have fought well. You have fought valiantly. But your time is up, surrender now, and your deaths will be… *Moderately* less painful."

"Always had a way with words, Adolf!" a voice calls out.

"Was that Gardner?" Disaster yells faintly. "God, I hate that guy."

Sinestro’s smile vanishes. "Amusing, as ever. But your shields can’t hold you forever, that, I have no doubt."

In the courtyard, the Misfits can just make out the Justice League, pinned down by the Society, no hope of escaping. As much as they didn’t want to admit it, they couldn’t just stand by. "They need our help," Gar mutters, as he tries to walk out, but before he can, a hand pulls him back. "Stay here. Don’t be an idiot," Clair growls, as Sinestro continues his speech.
"Your spaceships are scrap, your army dust. You have nothing. There *is* nothing. Except for the Society. It’s over."

"No’ quite paw," a voice bellows. ‘What now,’ Sinestro thinks to himself. Thunder clouds grow above them, lightning strikes the Society’s ship, and emerging from the frozen lake, a dozen more supervillains. Silken Spider and Dragonfly draw their swords, Catwoman cracks her whip. Beside them, The Cavalier lets out a hearty laugh, while Fiasco pumps his shotgun. Next, Paul Dekker lowers his goggles, Mitchel Mayo loads his rifle with another helping of spicy mustard and Philip Reardon readies his pistol. One of the last to emerge, Otis Flannegan raises a box above his head, emptying hundreds of rats into the sandy ground and raising a middle finger to Sinestro; at his side, Anatoli Knyazev screws a grenade launcher to his arm, Floyd Lawton adjusts his laser sight and The Snowman pulls his hair back. And lastly, leading the charge, Axel and Kitten Walker stand together, united.
Standing proudly among his cohorts, McCulloch whispers smugly to Mick and Mardon. "Mirra’ mirra’ on tha wa,’ whose tha fairest o’ them aw?"

Looking over at the Misfits’ reinforcements, The Injustice League turn to Disaster for guidance. "Do… Do *we* have any back-up?" Tockman asks, stunned

Brooker turns around, sweat on his brow "I… called Scarlet Skier."

…

“Oh good. We’re going to die.”

This image is a freeze frame taken from video shot by Linden Hudson (amateur photographer).

Who is Linden Hudson?

CLASSICBANDS DOT COM said: “According to former roadie David Blayney in his book SHARP DRESSED MEN: sound engineer Linden Hudson co-wrote much of the material on the ZZ Top ELIMINATOR album.” (end quote)

I’ve been posting a lot of sunset photos and will try to get away from doing that, but El. Franco Lee Park has had a lot to offer and without the help of any dust cloud blown in from the Sahara. It’s difficult to believe that this sunset is the final view of what remained in the sky after the displays that had taken place a bit earlier. You can read below why I am late to the party this evening in the comments below if you would like an explanation.

I wish that I could say that things have gone well, but after 3 dreaded blue screens today and a computer that refused to do a system restore, I have spent the afternoon and part of the evening planning for the very worst and what would happen if the machine doesn’t recover from the blue screens. I’ll have to wait until my IT savvy grandson can break away from work and assist in getting my computer to work without crashing. I’m going to let it ride for now and hope for the best and hope that he can get to it quickly. Hope I can get to everyone’s photos in due time.

DSC03027uls

==The Hindu Kush Valley==

Walking through the desert, a group of heroes look over at a nearby village. Orange flames lick and spit, civilians run for cover. At their leader’s insistence, one, a red and yellow android creates a cyclone, extinguishing the blaze. Another, a Magician in a top hat utters the spell "Wolf Retaw," a stream of water bursting from her wand. Their leader, a blond haired, handsome man, looks up at a nearby jet and puts his finger to his ear. "This is Aquaman, we’ve arrived at the drop sight. Over."

Onboard the Javelin, Mr Terrific answers back. "Understood. What do you see?"

Aquaman pauses. The recent sandstorm had made it difficult to see much of anything, even with his heightened senses. A few yards away, he notices something. A series of immobile, black figures, pointed ears atop their masks. "Talons… I see… God."

They’re all dead, impaled on their own swords, unable to move. He looks at his boot, drenched in their bizarre, greyish blood. They’re freshly killed.
Suddenly, the nearest Talon reaches out, unable to take the sword out it’s chest, instead it begs, silently, in the hopes Arthur might slay it.
"They’re still alive…" he gasps.

At this, Terrific looks at the scanners, zooming in on the heroes below them. "Aquaman, get out of there."

"I don’t understand," Arthur replies.

"The blood, Arthur, look at the blood!" Holt yells, as the other heroes join him on the bridge. Without uttering a word, the other Leaguers nod at Holt, and exit the Javelin.

Aquaman steps back, and looks down at the ground. "What the hell?"

Written in the Talon’s blood, a single word. "Aquaman."

"Tornado, Zatanna, get out of here," he yells, before a plasma ray sends him flying through a building. Walking towards him, in a black and silver suit, his red eyes glowing with energy, is Black Manta, beside him a man in a red and black tuxedo, a camera mounted on his head. "He actually delivered… Start filming."

=The League of Assassins Archives. Nanda Parbat=

Ra’s looked at the case. Inside it, *her* costume- a bright orange and black leotard, wings protruding from it’s back, long red boots and gloves, and a black domino mask. He opened the cabinet, and held the blade in his hand. It must’ve been fifteen years since he last held it in his hand. The day he gave it to her.

"Master, you wanted to speak with the informant?" Ubu asks.

Ra’s stroked the blade. Nostalgia was not something he often let himself feel, but this, this was different. He’d written it off at first, the effects of the new Lazarus strain, but he couldn’t ignore it any longer. He turned his head to his servant, blade in hand. "Ah, yes."

"Father, is this wise?"

"Talia, enough," Ra’s says, raising a hand to his daughter. "Ubu, let him in. Leave us," he adds, as Talia heads towards the door.

Complying, he opens the door, and lets him in. The man who sold out the Misfits, the man who told the League of their plans, and where to find them. In a hushed, gruff voice, the figure mutters, pointing an annoyed finger at Ra’s. "That sword. ‘Doesn’t belong to you."

"No." Ra’s smiles, turning to face Doctor Gaige. Gone was the red mask and snappy suit, traded for his old scuba gear. His mask may obscure his face, but there was no mistaking his demeanor. Ra’s gestures to his trophy cases, dozens of them, as he continues. "It doesn’t. None of them do. This place, this shrine was built three hundred years ago. I oversaw it’s construction personally. It honours all my fallen warriors. Sons, daughters. The finest assassins the world has ever known…"

Gaige stirs. "Did you murder *them,* too?"

Ra’s turns his head slightly. "Some, yes. But it will never be said they died without honour.
You must think me a monster. A butcher. It’s true, yes, I’ve buried children before, Doctor Gaige, my own, and, I will continue to do so long after your death. I can *just* handle the effects of the Lazarus Pit centuries on, but the toll it takes on them… It is better, sometimes, to let them die. So, I do what anyone who has lived as long as I should do. Move on."

"Yes, well, that’s always been my issue," Gaige growls.

Ra’s nods. "Hmm. Of course. But, thank you, regardless of our histories, I have a tremendous amount of respect for you. Rest assured, Mr Walker and his friends will be dealt with."

Gaige walks forwards, a finger pointed at Ra’s throat, bitterness in his words. "Please, I’ve seen how you treat those you respect."

"You speak of Miranda?"

"I *speak* of my daughter."

…

Ra’s moves Gaige’s hand away. "My condolences."

Gaige nods, as he pushes towards the shrine. "I just want her body, and her gear. Do whatever the hell you want with them."

Again, Ra’s nods, but he can’t help look at Gaige. He was quieter, and he hadn’t even swore. At last, the pirate chuckles to himself.
"Heh. It wouldn’t have worked anyway. Walker’s plan. They’d be dead before they even made it to you. Funny that," he nods. "But… imagine, say, if they actually got in here," he says, as he pulls out a harpoon, and fires it into Ra’s hand.

==Ra’s Palace. The Courtyard==

"You say hell yeah, and I’ll kill you myself."

Chuck turns to Gar, a sly smile on his face. "Never," he says cheekily.
Lined on the cobblestones, were the Misfits. Gar, Chuck, Rigger, Chancer and Needham. Their hands were tied, and they were forced onto their knees, by the surrounding Ninja. One mans a camera, aiming it at the five of them, while several more draw their swords.

"The Master wants Walker to watch," one of them says, dressed in a yellow and brown outfit.

"Of course, Shrike," the cameraman replies, donning a black and green outfit.

"Cypher-?" Gar calls out suddenly. "You son of a bitch!"

"You’re making a scene," Needham murmurs.

"Oh no, first Gaige now you?! I’m going to roast you alive you fuckin’ traitor!" Gar screams, as another two ninja rush to restrain him

"Hell yeah!" Chuck adds encouragingly, before muttering a feeble apology. "Sorry."

"The Master offered you mercy," Shrike says warningly, as he begins to sharpen his blade. "You should’ve taken it."

"Your master dropped a city on us, personally, I’m not a fan," Chancer mutters to himself.
"Enough. Kill him first," Shrike says, as a ninja pulls Chancer in front of the camera.

"Oh, fuck you, buddy, I didn’t even fucking swear!" Sharpe screams out, as his neck is placed on a stone slab.

"Oh, Jeez," Rigger moans. Needham sighs, and turns his head away. Gar looks on in horror. Chuck whispers a "Hell no," as the ninja raises the blade above his head, and- the sword shatters on Chancer’s neck. The ninja steps back in confusion. Chancer grins as confidence surges through him. As he rises to his feet, the cuffs slide off. The first ninja runs at him, but slips and falls on their face. A second trips over the body, their sword flying through the air, hitting a third in the chest. A fourth hurls a throwing star at Sharpe that he ducks under, landing in a fifth’s forehead. Cypher looks at the carnage, and runs off, abandoning the camera. When all’s done. The Misfits look at Sharpe incredulously.
"Guess who’s back in business," he exclaims proudly, before Shrike punches him in the back of the head, as he collapses to the ground

Gar looks down disappointedly. "Huh. That was almost impressive," as Shrike pulls Chancer off the ground, and unsheathes his blades.
"Oh, you’re dead," he smirks, as suddenly, an orange fireball hits him from behind.
As Volcana lands on the ground, Shrike lunges for her, but he’s quickly dispatched with with a blast of yellow flames. Turning to Gar, she smiles uncharacteristically sweetly. "Hi honey!"

===The Dungeons===

"My god… Norbert. Norbert, I’m sorry. I let you down. I’m always doing that."
Drury looks at his brother, chained up, bloody. No doubt in his months of captivity, Ra’s agents had reprogrammed him. Just another failure of his, Drury thought. When would they stop?
As Norbert’s chains are undone, Drury closes his eyes. This was it wasn’t it? Not on the battlefield, not by Ra’s or Bane’s hand… Just him, trapped in a dungeon, with the Killer Wasp.

"Drury…"

Norbert looks down at him, cocks his head to one side, then kneels beside him. Holding his brother’s head in his hand, he whispers hoarsely. "Still me."

Drury opens his eyes, and stares at him incredulously… those were *his* eyes. Warm, kind, alive.

Norbert turns round, and with an energy blast, tears the stone wall apart, offering Drury his hand, they barrel down the hall, taking down every Ninja in their way.

"Y-you… You fought it? You fought the brainwashing," Drury asks, struggling to keep up.

As they arrive at the laboratory, Norbert stops, and picks up a pair of bloodied pliers. His own.
For the first time since Drury had been reunited with him, he winks. "I made promise, Drury. Never again."

"No!" a metallic voice echoed, as Darhk marches towards them from the other side of the room. "You belong to me! You do what I say."

Norbert pauses, raises Darhk above his head, and smashes his glass visor. As he struggles to breathe, Norbert rests a hand on his shoulder, helping him lie down. "Never."

"Not bad, kid," a voice calls down to them, as Deathstroke turns to his comms. "The shields are down, the codes are yours. It’s showtime."

=======

"This is Javelin-Theta, our systems have been compromised, we’re being pulled apart up here!" Ollie yells as he attempts to steer the ship away from the village.
Flying beside them, a purple clad assailant uses his powers to rip the ship apart, and hurl it at another.
"Gotta say, this is so cool!" he yells to himself.
Passing by him, Sinestro barks a word of warning at him. "Nichols, please focus," as he creates a yellow buzzsaw to take on another jet.

Deflecting, Polaris laughs heartily. "C’mon, boss, have to admit, this is a lotta fun," he calls out, using his metallurgy to pull a steel clad man out of the jet.

"Hey Plug Boi, pick on someone your own size!" Guy Gardner, yells, as he hits Polaris with an oversized mallet, and catches Steel in a catcher’s mitt.

"That’s the wrong one, Guy," Hal calls back, as he creates an emerald net around Evil Star.

"Same difference Jordan!"

As Nichols rises back into the air, he calls out, confused. "What’s a Plug Boy?"

Nearby, the Batwing weaves in and out of the airborne superheroes and villains. A strike from Black Adam’s lightning immediately overcharges it’s systems, spinning it out of control. "Batwing’s hit, switching to auxiliary power," Bruce calls out, as he hits a few levers in an attempt to keep himself airborne.

"I don’t understand, it’s like they knew we were coming…" Clark calls, as he swoops in and catches the crew from the downed Javelin.

Bruce growls over comms. "Kenyon. Goldface baited us, and we fell for it."

"This is Flash," Barry says as he runs through the battlefield, "Bats, something’s not right, Bane and half his goons are a no-show. Hell, I think saw Bivalo for crying out loud! Reckon it’s some kind of a diversion."

"Understood," Batman replies. "Bane’s there somewhere, Flash, keep at it. Any Society member we take down is progress, I’ll have Cyborg increase the scanners."

"I’m all dark here, Bats. Whatever they’ve got, it’s got a hell of a jammer," Cyborg chimes in.

====Society Field Headquarters====

Bane watches the battle from above. Hundreds of the society’s underlings, *his* underlings, battle the Justice League and Ra’s ninja. He felt something unfamiliar, something swelling in his chest. Pride. "Thinker, I think it’s time we make our introduction. Lower shields," he says turning to the holographic display beside him.

The Leagues look at the sky, emerging from the clouds, a massive skull-like spacecraft. Brainiac’s.

Bane smirks, as he addresses the ground forces. "We recovered this from an ARGUS blacksite from one of his last invasions. Primary shrink ray has been disabled, secondary weapons at maximum capacity. Let’s begin."

~

Across the world, people watch the battle unfold, as heroes and villains alike fall.
In their slabside cells, Harvey Dent and David Clinton watch on enthralled. As Two-Face argues with himself, Chronos raises a finger to the screen. He knew them all, didn’t he?
Bound to a wheelchair, Jonathan Crane trundles through the New Asylum gardens, over hearing his guards, he thinks to himself "That should’ve been me," longing to wield a yellow ring once more.
Julian Day watches in his new hideout, concerned. Wherever the Misfits had gone, they weren’t on the front lines.
In his funhouse, the Joker lets out a maniacal laugh. Let them have their fun. They’ll see, it’s all a joke anyway.
In Italy, Roman Sionis rests his tennis racket on the ground, and reaches for his phone. "Those idiots are really gonna destroy the word aren’t they?" he mutters to his assistant.
In his penthouse, Oswald Cobblepot shares a drink with the Great White Shark. Turning to the TV, he can’t help smiling knowing those Talons are suffering.
In the Batcave, Alfred Pennyworth watches on the oversized monitor, and sighs as he continues dusting. His attention turns on the Watchtower teleporter, as a high pitched beeping starts to ring out. "What on Earth?" he wonders.
In Lexcorp, already in the midst of his own masterplan, Luthor checks his smartwatch. "So they actually did it, did they? Morons."
In the streets of Central City, money in hand, the Rogues pause in front of a computer shop, all the screens displaying Simm’s footage. His phone buzzing, Mirror Master answers it.
"Yo, McCulloch, you seeing this?" the voice on the other end asks.

"Aye, kid. I am."

"Good," Axel says, as he puts on his domino mask and turns to his sister.

On the battlefield, Disaster points at Simms, and pulls the Mighty Bruce to his side. "Hey, Bruce, that guy’s got a camera *on his head*"

"Major, that’s Mr Camera-" Tockman begins.

"Why didn’t you ever think of that? Certainly beats lugging all this gear around" Disaster continues, ignoring both Bruce and Tockman’s protests.

"I’m claustrophobic, Major," Bruce mutters.

At this, Artie taps Disaster on the shoulder and whispers harshly into his ear.
"Maj, please don’t stuff the kid’s head inside a camera."

=======

In Butchinsky’s, Len looks at the bar. Empty. With the Society’s video on every station, everyone else had already gone to fight. His picked his rag off the table, and smiled. "Fuck it." And walked out the door.