Sandstorm: Hit Like a Truck (5/5)

====Nanda Parbat====

 

"Where is he?!" Batman yelled, as he slung Gaige against the wall. Beside them, Ra's body lay still, grey blood trickling from his nose, mouth, and stab wounds, his eyes glazed over.

 

The pirate let out a low cackle. "Fuck you, you airborne asshole."

 

Bruce had enough. He picked Gaige up, and hurled him against the ground. "Where?!"

 

"You know what, Batman, he deserved more!" Gaige roared. "If I had the option, I'd have let him live, in a broken shell of a body, paralysed, mute. Able to think, able to *feel,* of course, but unable to act. I'd want him screaming internally, every minute of every fucking day until the end of time, and when he got a little too close to death, I'd dunk him in a Lazarus Pit, and start again."

 

As Batman raised his fist to hit him, his eyes were drawn to the door. "Talia..."

Caught off guard, he loosened his grip, Gaige sliding back onto the floor.

 

"Father, the dionesium has been destroyed, we must be careful, if- Father...." she gasped, as she ran past Bruce and Gaige, kneeling at her father's corpse, blood staining her trousers. She looked up at the men in horror.

 

"You killed him, didn't you?"

 

"Talia, wait-" Bruce began.

 

"Yep," Gaige smiled. "Yes, I did. He makes the new look work though, don't you think?"

 

As Talia, leapt to her feet, Bruce caught her arm. "Enough! Talia, it wasn't him! There's been enough senseless killing."

 

"Then, beloved," Talia scowled, handing Bruce her blade. "You know what you must do."

 

~

 

"No!" Manta bellowed, sand slapping against his visor, disorientating him. The sandstorm had picked up again, and in the confusion, Aquaman had vanished. This was Orm's doing, he was sure of it. And he was going to gut him for it. Gut him, and Bane, for playing him yet again.

 

"Where are you murderer?!"

 

His helmet's telemetry wasn't picking up anything- to anyone else, they would assume Curry was long gone. But Manta knew better. The murderer was still here lying in wait, somewhere. Drawing his knife, he leaped at the closest silhouette, and stabbed deep, he didn't care who he hit. The figure fell to the ground, dead. Not Aquaman, but one of the Talons, free from their crucifix. But who-

 

"Manta!"

 

Leaping behind him, Arthur cracks Manta's helmet on a large rock, damaging the circuitry. As red sparks of plasma spit out at him, Manta discards the helmet, and kicks his rival in the shin, picking the knife out of the Talon's corpse, and swinging it at Aquaman, wildly, unfocused. As he plunges it towards Aquaman's heart, Curry blocks it with his hook, and in a fit of rage, slashes at Manta's wrist, a gloved hand falling to the ground, blood splurting from the disembodied stump.

 

"You animal!" Manta snarled between cries of pain. "Half breed murderer!"

 

"No, Manta," Aquaman lamented, "Just an eye for an eye."

 

~

 

Tockman, Pramble and the Mighty Bruce struggled through the desert, alone. With Ratcatcher dealt with, and thoroughly embarrassed, Brown had fled to the palace, mumbling something about revenge and airplanes. As soon as Zod had taken to the skies, half the Justice League in pursuit, Big Sir had instinctively slung Disaster over his shoulder, and fled to safely. Without their leader or their muscle, the remaining members of the Injustice League thought it was best to relieve themselves from the battle. Knowing that Polaris had to have left at least one Javelin spaceship alone, that was their best bet. But just as they approached a parked jet, a woman lept down in front of them, her crossbow aimed at them.

"Didn't think we'd forgotten about you losers?" the woman laughed, winking at Tockman. "Hey Billy."

She was dressed all in red, a bizarre mohawk atop her head, and a leather jacket draped around her shoulders. One of the Society's goons. But before she could open fire, she fell to the ground at Pramble's feet. A Talon's sword in her gut, she just managed a feeble "Uh oh," before she bled out.

 

"She called herself Red Dart," Tockman murmurs, "Good riddance, I say."

Multi Man smirked, as he kicked the body. "F," he chuckled, as they marched into the ship.

 

~

 

"Cyborg, this is Wonder Woman, tell me you can defuse the device."

 

Vic looked at Miracle nervously. For the past half hour they'd been trying to defuse the device, all to no avail. He put his mouth to his wrist communicator, and sighed. "Wish I could, Diana. It's not every day you defuse a Kryptonian Phantom Bomb."

 

"Phantom *Drive,*" Miracle adds.

 

"Yeah, that."

 

"Just hurry, I don't know how long we can restrain Zod for. Wonder Woman over and out."

 

"You can't do it," a voice calls out to the pair. "But I can."

 

Cyborg turned around, as Noah Kuttler sat down beside them. "What? I rather like this world as it is."

 

~

 

The lasso wrapped its' self around Zod's arm, restraining him so that Superman could hit him. Grabbing the lasso, Zod pulls it tight, dragging Diana off the ground, while John Stewart and Kyle Rayner flew in to wrap chains around the rest of Zod's body. "Unhand me," he growled, blasting a ray of heat vision at them, scorching John's shoulder. "You, should all be kneeling. A new Krypton will be born here, today. And it will be my people, the ones who take action, the ones unafraid to act for the greater good that shall rule."

 

"Perhaps you're not that familiar with Earth, Zod. People here don't take kindly to dictators," Superman called out, as he punched him in the face. "J'onn now!"

 

Now immobile, J'onn had the opportunity to reach over into Zod's mind and subdue him, once and for all. As he placed his hands over his head, and began the process, Zod mumbled a few final words.

 

"If that were the case, those dictators of yours would *never* have risen to power. But time and time again, you ignore the signs. Even now your precious humans imprison those who disagree with them. Kill those who are different than them. And you? You fight thieves and robbers, because deep down, you know, when it comes to true evil, you'd never stand... a chance..."

As Zod's eyes drifted into unconsciousness, Clark floated over to him. "Maybe. But maybe that's enough. If we can prove we can be better, that we can *do* better, I'm positive others will too."

 

"Naïve fool..." Zod trailed off, as his body slumped over.

 

The League smiled at each other. It'd been long, it'd been hard, but it was finally over.

 

"Bruce, this is Clark. We're about done here, how about you? Bruce?"

 

~

 

Sat alone in Ra's' palace, Bane knew that it was over. Ra's was dead, Zod's treachery exposed, and now the League would be coming for him. There wasn't enough venom in his tank to take on Superman, let alone the entire Justice League. Two hours ago, he had everything. An army wholly devoted to his mission, revenge on the Demon who'd rejected him, victory over the Bat. And now... nothing.

A society in tatters, and a plan in ruins. So lost in thought, he'd barely even noticed the door opening behind him.

 

"Bane! We've unfinished business! Bane!"

 

He turned his head. It was... Cluemaster. Burned, bloodied, a knife in his hand, but, unmistakably Cluemaster.

Bane stood up slowly, looking at him for a moment, before saying softly “I thought you were dead."

 

Is this what it had come to? He couldn't even kill *Cluemaster*? No. This wasn't going to be his legacy. He refused to let it end like this.

 

"I would've done anything for you," Brown sighed. "Anything to be part of the big boys, and for once, for once- be respected by anyone other than Big fucking Sir! And then you crashed my plane into the Atlantic Ocean."

 

"You look well, all things considered," Bane muttered.

 

"I had something to look forward to," Brown smirked, as Bane placed a hand on his shoulder, and headbutted him. As Arthur stumbles backwards, blood splurting from his skull, his knife clatters to the ground.

 

"You should have stayed dead.”

 

~

 

Harvey Dent. Thomas Elliot. Lincoln March. Bruce had lost far too many friends to rage and madness. No more. It ended, tonight.

Walker was heading towards a purple helicopter, his Mothcopter, presumably. In the cockpit, he could just make out Chuck and Lynns turning on the engine.

 

'No more,' Bruce promised to himself. 'No more.'

He leapt off the cliff, and wrestled Drury to the ground, taking a blood sample while he struggled. "Why?" he called out, desperate to know why, why he'd throw it all away, give in to his darkness after everything they'd been through. Together.

"Why?! You betrayed everything you ever stood for!"

 

"No!" Drury called out, as he reached for a button on his wrist, electrifying his suit. As Bruce fell backwards, Drury rose to his feet, his face contorted with rage. "Only what *you* stood for. Look after my people, look after my family. That's what *I* am. Not Gotham, not the fucking world. Just them," he paused, his eyes growing heavy with tears, as he thought back to Miranda, dying underground to save *his* sorry ass.

"... And I can't even do that right," he sighed, as fell to his knees.

"You were supposed to save the world," he yelled at Bruce, pointing a finger at him. "That's what you do! But Arkham City's rubble. Nanda Parbat is rubble. And the people? There are no people left standing. I joined Bane because I knew, I fuckin' knew! You'd have stopped me. And if not you, one of your sidekicks"

 

"You're damn right I would-" Bruce yelled back, as he flung a batarang at Drury, causing his suit's countermeasures to fry him instead.

"But I had no choice!" he grunts, as Batman punches him to the ground, and leaps onto him.

"Computer, search for trace elements of Fearless."

The computer's voice in his ear replied. "Blood toxicity 0%."

 

Bruce paused. 'It's not... It can't be...'

"Run scan again."

 

"Blood toxicity 0%"

 

"No..." he gasped, as Drury suddenly kicked him in the crotch, and flung him off of him.

 

"That's what this is?! You thought I'd taken Crane's crazy juice?" he cries indignantly, as he fires his cocoon gun at him.

"You... You said you'd been bitten, that a bird-" Bruce yells between dodging his fire.

 

"It was a fucking pigeon! Drake invited Pigeon Person to the fucking funeral!" Drury blasts back.

 

"No..." Batman pauses. "No that's not- Killing Ra's, helping Bane, the attack on GCPD."

In his moment's hesitation, Drury punches him in the face, stepping on his harpoon wound.

 

"Ra's killed hundreds and hundreds of people! Thousands, even! And... And he killed her! Do you understand? Do you even grieve?!"

 

"Yes," Bruce grunts bitterly.

 

"I bet, in your stoic "oh my dead parents" way. Well, I'm not some emotionless robot Bruce! He killed my wife! He killed... Oh god, he killed my wife..." Drury trails off, as he drops his gun.

Forlorn, Bruce reaches down, and attaches a pair of handcuffs onto Drury's wrists.

 

"I know, Drury. I know," Bruce muses, as he pulls him to his feet.

 

"Bruce..." Drury whispers, not daring to look at him. "I need to... were we ever friends-?"

 

The question catches Bruce off guard. As much as he wanted to answer it, he couldn't. "I-," Bruce begins. "I don't know."

 

"That's what I thought, Bats. It's why I called them."

 

Bruce looks up. In front of them, the Misfits had assembled. Leading the charge, Fiasco, drew a pistol from his holster, and pointed it at Bruce's face. "That's enough, Bat Freak," he hisses. At either side of him, The Misfits; Dekker, Sharpe, Mayo, Rigger, Needham, even Reardon, Chuck and Norbert had guns drawn at Batman.

 

"Lynns..." Bruce begins, turning back to Gar, now also holding a drawn flamethrower.

 

"Sorry, Bats. We're going to have to ask you to let him go," Gar sighed.

 

Bruce bowed his head. "You know I can't do that."

 

"Yeah, I figured. But, I reckon that harpoon wound isn't gonna do you any favours."

 

Bruce glared at Lynns, then back at Drury.

"He stays out of Gotham."

 

Gar nods reluctantly. "Agreed."

 

Bruce drops the handcuff key on the ground, pushes Drury into Gar's waiting arms, and walks off, planting his sword in Drury's fallen mask.

Once he's finally out of earshot, Chancer smiles. "Hey, it's not every day you beat Batman."

 

"I didn't, Sharpe," Gar groaned. "I meant every word."

 

===The Pacific Ocean===

 

Drifting alone on a piece of driftwood, using their arms as oars, Disaster and Big Sir sailed off, hoping somewhere, somehow, they'd come across a piece of land. Ratchett didn't seem to mind much.

 

“Big Sir is just glad to be stuck with one of his best friends”

 

Glum, and defeated, Booker turned to his cohort. “Shut up, Big Sir. You don’t want to be eaten, do you?”

 

Dufus pauses for a second, leaning backwards so that the raft capsizes. "Big Sir bet he tastes great!"

 

"You... You really don't know what you're saying." Disaster grumbles, as he emerges from the sea, now completely drenched.

 

"Like bacon, Big Sir bets."

 

====The Arkham Manor====

 

Joker finishes painting a moustache over the last of the family portraits, and smiles, turning to Arkham. "Honestly Jerry, love what you've done to the place. Very gothic, gloomy. Oh wow, your uncle *really* liked his torture implements didn't he? Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Here, hold this," he chuckles, as he stabs a knife into his hand.

As he does so, the lights flicker on and off, a red crackling fills the air, and Joker sighs, and he looks over his shoulder. A yellow figure, phasing in and out, as though it's struggling to even stay visible, whispers in a static voice.

 

"Yes, I was wondering when I'd be seeing you," Joker smirks.

 

"Sssssssssociiiiiiety gooone," the figure says. "Youuuuuuuweren't there."

 

"Sure I was!" Joker grins, gesturing to the TV. "Well, for the highlights anyway."

 

"Yousawthe neeeeeeeeewwwwws?" the figure inquiries.

 

"Oh, bits and pieces. The transmission ended when a blind man started to fist the camera man."

 

The figure lunges at him, but Joker sticks a finger up at him. "I knew this would happen! But I told Bane I couldn't make it on Tuesday. He just refused to reschedule."

 

"Whaaaaaatsssssss moreimportant thaaaaaanmaking heroesbetter?" the voice crackles. "Moreimportant thanmakingthem strooooooonger?" It raises a gloved hand, poised to snap it's fingers.

 

At this, Joker's tone changes, the danger that much more apparent. "What indeed! Heh. Why don't you sit down, Hunter? I've got a hell of a story for you."

 

===Keystone City===

 

"And, finally, the trial of Doctor Gaige concluded this afternoon. Doctor Gaige, alias Tiger Shark, a key player in the Battle of Nanda Parbat two months ago, confessed to the murder of Ra's Al Ghul. Gaige is expected to be transferred to Blackgate Prison tomorrow morning. This is Iris West, Twin City News, signing off."

 

"Fuck that Necrophiliac!" Girder laughed. "The Pirate did us all a public service!"

 

"Hear! Hear!" Alchemy chimed in cheerily.

 

Drury looked over at them glumly. Funny. A year or two ago, he'd have loved to have gotten that kind of respect. These days, he didn't know *what* he wanted. Adapting to Keystone had been hard, the kids enjoyed it well enough, but, well, stupid as it sounded, it just wasn't home. The Misfits, meanwhile, seemed to be doing well for themselves- Gar was currently working on a show based on the Injustice League's film reel (Big Sir playing himself) while Sharpe had started to reconnect with his sister and grandfather, bonding over their love of crime, mostly. Rigger and Reardon had gone into business together, undertaking a building redevelopment scheme over the ruins of Arkham, providing safe, affordable housing for all, and Chuck, cured from Fearless had been helping Mayo with his stand-up comedy. Even Needham had become a slightly less murderous vigilante, apparently with Cass' guidance.

 

Drury just wished he could be there to see them.

"Sorry, what I was saying?" he asks, as he turned back to the man beside him, dressed in a white and blue costume, and continued talking. About Miranda. And Gar. And Gaige. About Batman. The Suit nods. It doesn't say a word, but instead, it slides a card along the table. Drury looks down. On it, rests a poorly drawn frowny face. He looks back up, and The Suit wipes an imaginary tear from it's mask

 

"I guess, what I'm asking is, don't you ever wish you could start again?"

 

The Suit pauses and nods slowly. It turns away, and starts scrawling on a new piece of card, handing it back to Drury. On it, a rather feeble looking stick man with a pair of clock hands on its' face. Below it, scrawled on the bottom, the word "Slabside."

 

====Gotham====

 

"Come in," a squeaky voice whispered. "You weren't followed were you?"

 

"Across the multiverse? I don't fuckin' think so." The door creaked open, and a group of three men enter. The first, Abner Krill, looks at the desk, atop it a series of unsent love letters, most of them addressed to Poison Ivy of all people. On the wall, a large campaign banner reading "Cobblepot for Mayor: Make Gotham Safe Again," was hung proudly with a few measly pieces of twine. "Like, uh, like what you've done with the place, Jumbo, you fuckin' slob," he mumbles, as he passes by the squeaky voiced man.

 

"Is... That him?" a girl's voice asks. She's sitting on the sofa, twitching uncomfortable.

 

"Aye, luv," Krill proclaims as he takes a beer from the fridge. The second guest, Psycho Pirate, hurries in excitedly, singing cheerily. The third and final one however, walks in more slowly. Cautiously. "Jacob?" he asks, as his eyes focus on Jumbo, and then on the girl on the sofa. "Bridget? Is that you?"

 

The girl, Bridget, looks up at him. Dressed in a red and yellow suit, a mop of sleek grey hair on his head, the man looked a little disorientated. But, it was him. Unmistakably him! As she runs up to hug him, he raises a hand to stop her.

 

"Daddy, what is it?" she asks, her brow furrowing.

 

Carson pauses. "Time for a cozy catch up later, kitten. First, there's someone I need to kill."

Done