Dungeons and Dragons (2/3): The Mothkillers

==Wayne Manor: The East Wing==

 

"Sissssssssssteeeeeeeeer. Se-leeeeeen-aaaah."

 

The voice echoed the halls. It was deep, raspy.

 

Selina drew her whip. "Karl?" she called out.

 

A black clad figure dropped from the chandelier above her. It looked like Blake, but she'd recognise her brother's swagger anywhere.

 

"You stopped writing," the King giggled, a perverse smile on its' face. What was once the cocky chuckle of an overgrown frat boy had become something far more malicious.

 

Selina shrugged, trying to keep her composure. "Well, you were dead. A lot. After a point, I just stopped keeping track. That, and that one Thanksgiving incident really soured my perceptions of you," she explained, taking a step back.

 

The King smiled again as he walked slowly towards her, licking his lips. "Ah, what is a tainted turkey between siblings," it laughed, stroking Blake's beard absent mindedly. "No, please. Tell me," it snarled, his smile fading as a set of metal claws retracted from his gloves.

 

As he lunged at her, her whip cracked against its' skull, knocking it backwards into a trophy cabinet, powdered glass sprinkling onto its' shoulders.

 

"Oh, sister, how I've missed our little spats!" it yelled. "It's really been too long!" it laughed, as it picked up a fallen trophy and hurled it at her.

 

As she deflected it, she left herself wide open. Back on its' feet, the King flew through the air- And was promptly knocked through a wall by a caped figure.

 

"You don't touch her!" Bruce yelled, as he grabbed the beast by it's tail, and hurled it's flailing body against the fireplace.

 

"I'm her brother! I've more right to her than you!" the beast yelled back, stabbing Bruce in the shoulder with a nearby fire poker.

 

"Bruce!" Selina called out, as her whip wrapped around the King's neck, pulling him out of Bruce's path.

 

"Selina, stay back," he grunted, as he pulled the weapon out of his arm, and bandaged his wound.

 

"Double jeopardy," the King whistled. "How fun!"

It tugged on the whip, pulling Selina forward, and once she was in reach, it grabbed her face.

In return, she slashed him across the wrist, causing him to recoil, if only temporarily.

 

"You're diseased!" Batman growled, as he swung forward, and punched it across the face, blood spurting from it's mouth.

 

"Yours is the disease! And she shall be cleansed of your stench. And with this fool's body, it's not really even incest, is it?"

 

...

 

Bruce bowed his head, disgusted.

 

"And now officially, it's gone too far," Selina said, putting her hand to her face, embarrassed.

 

Karl grinned, and spat its' blood over Bruce's face; Disoriented, he stumbled backwards, leaving him open to a critical blow to the chest. And as the Beast drew it's knife, a white baton struck it in the back of the head.

 

==ISA Headquarters. An Hour Ago==

 

"Cynthia, I have brought you a new friend," Ito said, as he placed a hand on a large wooden door, a series of padlocks holding it shut. As he slid the metal latch open, he gestured to Chancer proudly.

 

"This, is Montgomery. I thought you might like to play with someone your own age," Ito said, as he raised a single warning finger. "She has an 8 o'clock curfew, and must be in bed by 9."

 

Chancer peered through the keyhole. Sitting on an uncomfortable looking bed was Ito's daughter, a girl who appeared to be no older than 17. She, Sharpe noted, did not look happy to be here.

 

"She's in one of her moods," Ito replied regretfully. "She stayed up until 10 last night, silly girl. It makes her irritable. Come, I have much more to show you," he said, placing his arm around him.

 

"Oh, hello Montgomery!" a booming voice called out from behind them, as Chancer and Ito made their way down the hall. "Fancy seeing you here!"

 

Sharpe waved back, barely paying attention. "Hey, Dekker," he muttered. Then, realisation struck him. "Hey wait a minute," he said as he spun around.

 

"He's fond of our open bar," Ito lamented, as he made an effort to pull Sharpe away from Dekker's clutches.

 

"Yeah, but- Open bar?"

 

The Dragon King nodded. "Yes, I hoped that would interest you. Please, let me show you our gymnasium. Lawrence will be thrilled."

 

~

 

Ito squirted a mixture of hand sanitizer onto Sharpe's hands, and poured him a steaming mug of hot chocolate. "These are troubling times," he explained. "Every precaution is necessary."

 

"Thank you," Chancer replied sheepishly, as he stuck a marshmallow into the cup and swallowed it whole.

 

"Ito..." Gambler growled impatiently.

 

"My apologies, Stephen," Dragon King nodded as he slid a series of files onto the table.

 

"Blake..." Chancer muttered, recognising the muscular, apparently naked figure on the top most picture.

 

Unnoticed by Sharpe, Gambler coughed into his hankerchief, specks of blood staining it red. Ito looked at him worriedly, and turned back to Chancer, now flicking through the files half heartedly.

 

"Tell me, boy," Ito began, "How familiar are you with the Enchantress?"

 

Chancer shrugged. "Just the basic stuff. Belly dancing, mostly."

 

"Revisionist history," Ito scoffed. "We believe that Karl Kyle may be an incubus, a creature who's purpose is to bond with it's sister spirit, the succubus, and produce an heir."

 

"Wow, so like Game of Thrones?" Sharpe asked, intrigued.

 

Gambler put his hand to his face, embarrassed. "Ignore him, Doctor, he's-"

 

"If their family trees are also filled with blood and incest, then yes."

 

Chancer frowned. "Do you even watch TV?"

 

Ito bowed his head. "I'm told the final season was disappointing."

 

==Wayne Manor: The West Wing==

 

Standing on the rooftop, dressed head to toe in crimson gowns, the Misfits surveyed the ongoing situation. Beside them, binoculars drawn, Hellhound could just make out the black suits of Karl Kyle and his sister, as they dueled in a hallway on the other side of the manor.

 

Chuck tugged on his collar irritably. "I gotta ask, are the robes essential to the process, or-"

 

Hellhound looked over at him, a wry smile on his face. "Oh, what? Nah, they're completely useless. I just thought you looked adorable."

 

"Thank you," Rigger said, blushing slightly, as Chuck and Ten sheepishly removed their 'ceremonial gowns.'

 

"Here," Hellhound commanded, as he handed the binoculars over to Reardon, (who gestured to his goggles awkwardly), and then to Chuck. "Told you I could find him," he said.

 

"How the hell did you do that?" Chuck asked, as he looked through the binoculars, clearly impressed.

 

"DNA recombinator, right?" Rigger asked.

 

"Something like that," Hellhound nodded. "I used a blacklight."

 

As Chuck looked back through the binoculars he frowned; staring back at him, wholeheartedly confused, appeared to be Batman, now mouthing the words 'Behind you!'

 

Suddenly, a golf ball flew through the air, and knocked Reardon to the ground.

 

"Oh, crap, it's Team Rocket," he exclaimed, as the ISA's enforcers, Sportsmaster and Tigress, jumped from the adjacent tower.

 

"Cheadle!" Hellhound whistled, as a large dog lunged at Sportsmaster, clamping it's jaws around his arm. Hesitant to commit animal abuse of any kind, Crusher took to simply waving his arm about, the dog's teeth sinking further into his flesh.

Rigger was on the ground now too; Tigress holding him down by the throat. 'Normally, I'd be ok with this,' he thought to himself, drifting in and out of consciousness. 'Normally.'

When he next looked up, Tigress was being dragged back along the ground, a black whip around her neck. Selina gave a thumbs up to Joey, and he blushed gratefully.

'Ok, I'm very much ok with this,' he thought, as he lay down again, exhausted.

 

"Friends of yours?" Batman asked, as he glided to the ground.

 

"Not exactly," Chuck replied.

 

"Well, you better start explaining this. Fast," he grimaced.

 

Brown frowned. "Honestly, I really don't know what they're doing he- Oh," he trailed off as his gaze was drawn to the adjacent roof.

 

"Hey guys!" Sharpe was waving from across the roof, as Ito dragged the Beast's unconscious body away.

 

Rigger, waved back, a bemused look on his face.

 

"What... What the hell..." Chuck gasped.

 

"What... What are you guys doing here?" Sharpe called out.

 

"Looking for Blake!" Rigger yelled excitedly.

 

Chancer gestured at the King's slumped over body. "Found him!" he mouthed. "Job done," he grinned, as he climbed onto the drainpipe.

 

"Chancer, wait, we're going to exorcise him!" Chuck called after him earnestly, as he pointed to Hellhound, currently bludgeoning Sportsmaster with a hockey stick.

 

Sharpe's face fell. "Oh, shoot! Was that today? Fuck me..." he glanced at Ito, and back to the Misfits, his lip curled. He shrugged awkwardly, and slung the beast over his shoulder, as he chased after Ito.

 

"Chancer!" Chuck called after him. "Chancer!"

 

"My hands are tied!" Sharpe's voice echoed, as he disappeared into the night, the King of Cats in tow.

 

"Asshole!" Chuck screamed angrily.

 

"Well, he says his hands are tied," Rigger said, patting Chuck on the back.

 

...

 

"I just wanted to prove we can do something right without the costumes," Chuck said.

 

"Yeah..." Rigger nodded solemnly. "Wait, we did something right with them on?"

 

==Elsewhere==

 

The keys turned in the lock. The man, in his early forties, was bald and pale; his forehead lined with red tattoos. He opened the door, flicked on the light and placed a shopping bag filled with Halloween decorations on the floor.

 

"Trick or Treat," a voice called out.

 

"I swore I locked that door," Julian sighed, as he reached under his pants leg, and grabbed a concealed knife.

 

"That, won't be necessary," the voice said. "I'm a big fan, actually."

 

Julian turned around. "Oh? And you are-?"

 

The figure was sitting in Day's armchair, a mop of grey hair on his head, and dressed in an unassuming red sweater, they were flicking a black lighter on and off. On and off. On and off. "Guess," he replied bitterly.

 

"Well, unless USPS practices have changed as of late... You're not the mailman."

 

The lighter slammed shut. The figure's hand seemed to twitch, just slightly. "Call me Carson. I, have a proposal for you. Concerning Drury Walker..."

 

Julian's eyes flashed with recognition, if only briefly. And then, he smiled. "Listen... Mr Barson, was it?"

 

"It's Carson," Ted shuddered, as he slammed his fist onto the table. "I was at Walker's fucking wedding, for god's sake."

 

"So were a lot of people," Julian lamented. 'It's hard to keep track of everyone, and the festivities were somewhat marred by the arrival of a lunatic in a green onesie trying to kill us. Oh, that was you, was it?" he added, an air of mock disappointment in his tone.

 

Carson slumped in his chair. "Yeah."

 

"Well, then, Mr Barson-" Julian continued undaunted, smiling faintly at Carson's growing anger, "I have neither a want for, nor need of, your help, so why don't you save us all some time and find yourself a nice shallow grave to lie in."

 

"Listen-" Carson began, rising from his chair.

 

"No, you listen," Day said sternly, as he rested his hand on Carson's chest. "The Calendar Man is being forgotten, and I can't have that. I will not fade into obscurity. I will not have my legacy swept aside. I have no intention of being forgotten like you, you wretched, miserable pastiche of better men. Now, I'm sure you had an excellent speech prepared, something heartfelt and meaningful to woo me to your side... I'm sure that when you walked in here, you thought you had all the answers, and all the power. But. You. Don't."

 

Carson's jaw clenched. "What makes you so sure?"

 

Day nodded. "Quite simple really... Do you where we are?"

 

Ted raised a confused eyebrow.

 

"No," Julian sighed. "Of course not... Drury Walker's first apartment. It has a certain... humbleness to it, not like that Mansion on the mainland... See, you think you know the Misfits, but you don't. Not like I do."

 

"I know enough," Carson replied, cracking his neck.

 

"Oho, Really? Then you'll know Charles Brown is currently employed at Wiggins Incorporated. It's a toy company, recently acquired by Lexcorp. Good pay. His assistant, Laura, is a wonderful girl, she claims she's on a diet, but she also has a jar of Chocos hidden beneath her desk. His boss, Richard is tough, but fair, with a childlike approach to innovation that I appreciate.

 

Joseph Rigger has gone into business with Philip Reardon, Night Owl Renovations, I believe they've called it. It's a construction company, I'm sure you've seen their work on the Arkham ruins... What you probably didn't know, was that they have a shared fondness for Tarantino, and those Italian pastries, cannolis, are they called?

 

Garfield Lynns, meanwhile, is working at Panessa Studios, dating the Carpenter, Jenna. It's no surprise he likes her, I suppose- she's got a tough exterior, shorts, and a nifty little powerdrill she's not afraid to use. Hah. She used to run around with the Wonderland Gang and had a brief fling with a certain False Facer, I'm sure you've heard of him. You're the expert, right? They leave work at 6pm, each and every day. They have a coffee at the local bistro, Finnegan's, run by an Irish gentleman, Sean something or other... He orders a water, her, a lemonade. No ice. Then, they share a cab, stopping at her apartment first, of course- 117B, Wayne Boulevard, and then, his. He changes shifts with his... baby mama, giving her some time to burn whoever she wants, and he sends his daughter to bed, before finally- finally, falling asleep in front of M*A*S*H reruns. I could go on... Tell you about Mitchell Mayo's secret pastime of cookie dough sculpting, or Eric Needham's old modelling jobs. How about the very real skeleton in Leonard Fiasco's closet, or Montgomery Sharpe's K$sha playlists... I wouldn't want to bore you.

 

So, tell me, Barson," Julian snarled, as he aimed his knife at Ted's stomach. "What exactly do you know again?"

 

Carson pushed it aside. "I know that, right now, Kite-Man is working with the Hellhound, trying to track down this Catman. I know that Walker's bitch is in the ground, and it's about time he joins her. And I also know a certain dimension jumping mercenary who'd just love to help us out," Carson smiled.

 

Julian shook his head. "You know, for a moment there, I almost thought you were building to something. But you're really just a blunt instrument aren't you? "Put him in the ground..." How horrendously... ordinary."

 

"What," Carson complained. "You got a better idea?"

 

"Several. If you want to hurt Drury, if you want to lure him here, if you want to kill him... Well, you can always start with that bleeding, broken heart of his."

 

Carson scowled. "What, dig up his wife?"

 

Julian rolled his eyes melodramatically. "Oh, please... whoever said I meant Miranda?"

 

Carson's eyes sparked with realisation. "Thank you, Julian. It's been... educational," he grimaced, as he shoved past him.

 

"It won't ever go away, you know," Day warned.

 

"What won't?" Carson spat back, his hand on the doorknob.

 

Julian's brow furrowed. "That hole in your chest."

 

Done