Dungeons and Dragons (3/3) Cat Scratch Fever

==Wayne Manor==

 

"Sure hope Bruce Wayne can afford to pay for the damages," Chuck smiled sarcastically, before catching Batman's eye. "How did you get here so fast?" he added curiously.

 

"I was in the area. You?" Batman asked back, looking at Chuck suspiciously. He didn't know, did he?

 

Brown looked back at him, confused. "I... I mean, I have a kite."

 

"Hmm," Batman nodded. That much Drury had kept to himself. "The Justice League and I are currently investigating an altercation at Slabside. In the meantime, I trust you can deal with Karl Kyle?"

 

"Slabside?" Chuck paused. "I don't understand, what's- Karl's a sex demon. Does- Doesn't that take priority?"

 

"Not when it's Drury Walker."

 

...

 

"In Antarctica-?" Chuck's brow furrowed.

 

"An eye witness said that the assailant came out of nowhere, like a ghost, or phantom. And Abner Krill's been off the radar since Arkham. He fits the profile, Brown."

 

"You don't think- Drury wouldn't work with Krill, Drury hates Krill... We all hate Krill," he added hastily.

 

"Then, if not Krill, then it was McCulloch. And if Walker can teleport now, and he's making moves against the people who've hurt him, then it's only a matter of time before he makes his way here."

 

...

 

"You're wrong. He wouldn't go to Slabside, not for revenge," Chuck sighed. "Believe me, there's a lot of people Drury blames for what happened to his wife. Krill, Deathstroke, Strange, the entire League of Assassins; you. But there's no one he blames more than himself."

He noticed Batman's expression shift. "He really did hurt you, huh?"

 

Batman turned his head away. "If he violates the terms of our arrangement in any way- and if I find out you or the Misfits helped him do so, and if he ever- ever steps foot in Gotham again, then I will come down on all of you. Do you understand?"

 

Chuck bowed his head. "I haven't heard from Drury since the desert."

 

"Good," Batman replied, as he stepped off the roof, and into the awaiting cockpit of the Batwing, Selina in the co-pilot chair. "Karl Kyle, Brown," he added. "I want him found."

 

As the jet soared off into the night, Chuck ran his hand through his hair. "And I thought he was angsty before."

 

~

 

Hellhound slid his gloves back on, as he and Rigger walked up towards the group, his dog by their side. Resting against a nearby chimney, Chuck was now nursing Reardon's head wound with an ice pack. "Well?" he asked, before taking note of Rigger's uncharacteristically blank expression. "Wha- What did you do back there?"

 

"Sportsmaster gave up the goods," Hellhound evaded, as he reached into his satchel and fed his dog a large, human-looking shin bone. "They're at the old Waterworks. Narrows territory."

 

Ten sighed. "It's really hard for the economy to recover when you have all these abandoned warehouses and factories... sorry, thinking out loud."

 

"He was going to tell us anyway, you really didn't have to have your dog hump him," Rigger muttered glumly.

 

Reardon's ears pricked up. Chuck's jaw fell open.

 

"What? You don't like Cheadle?" Hellhound asked, petting the dog lovingly.

 

"I think he's gorgeous, I just like him slightly less now I've seen him used as an interrogation tool," Rigger shuddered.

 

"Lord almighty, it was a dry hump, Rigger. Harmless. I thought that, what, Sex Offenders Club of yours would've desensitised you to that."

 

"Squad," Rigger muttered.

 

Reardon pushed Chuck's homemade ice pack aside. "Sorry, Sex Offender Squad?"

 

Rigger sighed. "Zodiac named us. It was a rough year, I was dating Tarantula and-"

 

"Oof, say no more," Reardon nodded.

 

"Really. Say no more," Chuck warned him wearily.

 

==ISA Headquarters==

 

The trio watched the Beast pace in its' cell. It was on all fours, and every now and then, it'd start hissing, manically. At that point, Dragon King would press a button and send a electrical shock to the metal bars containing it.

 

Gambler was staring at it, almost intently. "Doctor Ito, I trust the machine will be completed as scheduled," he drawled.

 

Ito nodded. "You have my word, Stephen."

 

Chancer shivered slightly, as the creature turned its' gaze toward him, licking its' lips. "Machine?"

 

"The neural synthesiser. We intend to study the Beast's brain patterns, and determine the source of its' immortality."

 

Sharpe pondered this. "Neural what, I don't understand-"

 

"I'm dying, Montgomery," Gambler coughed.

 

...

 

Chancer was silent for a second as he eyed up his grandfather. When at last he spoke, it was with a slight hesitance. "Well, it's probably all those cigars you had," he shrugged dismissively.

 

Gambler scoffed, and cane in hand, marched off.

Sharpe shuddered slightly. "You don't want to maybe take a step back?" he asked cautiously, turning to Ito.

 

Dragon King shook his head. "The Beast's primal urges don't worry me... Doctor King always theorised that body swapping was possible, but this? He transfers his very being by praying on the lust, the shame, the desire, of others. Theoretically, Mr Kyle is the answer to immortality in the only way that matters. The mind. He is a wonderful specimen, wouldn't you say?"

 

Sharpe's lip curled. "I guess. It's not really my thing."

 

"He said the same thing about me, but nothing lasts forever, does it daddy?" a voice called from the adjacent cell.

 

Ito turned his head. "Not now, Cynthia, daddy's working. Lovely, isn't she?" he said cheerily.

 

Chancer flashed Ito a smug smile. "I guess. It's not really my thing."

 

"Ah, no matter. You'll have plenty of time to warm to her after the wedding ceremony," Ito said, as he adjusted his apron.

 

"Yeah," Sharpe nodded. "Wait, what?"

 

Ito cocked his head to one side, his eyes gleaming. "Why, you're a fine young man, Montgomery, I would be honoured to have you as a son."

 

Sharpe scratched the back of his scalp awkwardly. "Yeah, uh, ditto, but... I don't really know your daughter, I just know that she scares me."

 

"I imagine that would be part of the appeal, no?

Hmph. Perhaps I could arrange to have your sister wed her instead?" he grimaced.

 

Chancer looked at him indignantly. "Who, Becky? Please, she doesn't even know you! I know you, man! ... Look, listen, maybe if I was drunk enough, I'd pull through it," he said reluctantly.

 

Ito claps his hands together. "Wonderful."

 

Gambler marched back into the room, a silver six shooter in hand. "Ito, Montgomery. We have guests."

 

Ito drew his sword, Chancer grabbed his bat off of the table, and the duo departed, leaving Stephen Sharpe alone with his prize. He pressed a button on the cell door, and the Beast arched its' back as it breathed in the fresh air.

 

Gambler coughed into his hankerchief, and pocketed the bloody tissue. "I need your help, boy."

 

The Beast glared at him for a minute, and flashed him a green eyed smile.

 

~

 

The Misfits were making their way through the tunnels. Leading the charge was Hellhound, his dog sniffing along the ground.

 

"Chuck?" a voice called out.

 

"Chancer?" Chuck asked back.

 

The dog growled at first, before Hellhound stroked it behind the ear. "Easy, boy,"

 

Sharpe made sure he'd shaken free of Ito before approaching, laying his bat on the ground as a kind of peace offering. "Oh, thank god, Chuck, I'm glad you're here. I could really use your help. I thought this was going to be the fun kind of cult, but suddenly Ito's gone all Scientology and has prepared a child bride for me."

 

The Misfits shared a look between each other, before Reardon spoke, nursing his head injury. "Good."

 

"No. Not good, the opposite of good. I can't get married. Blake and I made an agreement to remain bachelors indefinitely. Barring true love. And for me, that means D-cups."

 

"Sorry, not the fact she's underage?" Chuck interrupted.

 

Sharpe frowned. "What, no, she's psychotic!"

 

"You're psychotic," Reardon added.

 

"Yeah, but I've never been bitchy about it. Look, I concede there's been mistakes on both sides-"

 

"No, there hasn't-" Chuck began.

 

"But right now, Blake needs our help, I need our help, and my grandpappy needs our help. So let's grow some balls, and do this shit," Sharpe declared, as he turned around and ran back off towards the laboratory, Hellhound close behind him.

 

"What just happened?" Chuck asked.

 

"Think he just became the new leader," Rigger shrugged.

 

"The hell he did," Chuck frowned, as he chased after him.

 

~

 

Sharpe took a step backwards, slumped on the floor, was Blake's unconscious body. Hellhound pushed him aside as he walked towards it, and placed a gentle hand across its' face.

 

"It's gone, he declared. "The spirit must've moved out before we got here."

 

"Before we got here? Then where did it go-?" Rigger let out a sudden yelp, as a whip cracked against his back, letting out a single whimper of "Racist!" as he fell to the floor. Walking towards them, the King of Cats, reborn.

 

"The fat man was begging for immortality," the Beast hissed, its' voice now Gambler's signature southern drawl. "But these things have a price."

 

Chuck shook his head in disbelief. "That is wrong on so many levels."

 

"So, uh," Rigger groaned in agony, "I guess Gambler just had a Catwoman outfit lying around."

 

"It's Halloween, leave him alone," Sharpe snapped back. "Ok, boomer," he began, as he swung his bat at The Beast, "Let's tango."

 

In an instant, the Beast swung under his legs, and knocked them out from under him. Sharpe landed on the stone floor with an uncomfortable thud. Next, it fired Gambler's pistol at the others; Chuck and Reardon retreated behind a table, but Hellhound let out another whistle, and the dog reached for the Beast's crotch. The creature picked it up by its' collar, and slung it against the wall.

 

"He's an animal abuser too?!" Rigger exclaimed, as Chuck helped him to his feet. "Man, fuck that guy."

 

Hellhound drew his knife, and slashed the Beast around the chest. It dropped the gun, snarled, and in returned, dug its' claws into his face, lapping his splattered blood, then kneeing him in the crotch. "Tit for tat, you might say," it chuckled, as Hellhound staggered backwards, and it picked up the gun. And then- Nothing. The gun fell to the ground. The Beast's laughter trailed off, then- silence.

 

Hellhound opened his eyes; Stuck in the Beast's eye, was his own dagger, thrown there by none other than Thomas Blake. The Beast's eyes contracted for a minute in shock, then, it stumbled backwards towards the ledge, and plunged into the watery depths below with a sickening squelch. Chancer let out a horrified yell, as he scaled the stairs down after it.

 

Chuck smiled, as he and Blake shared a relieved look, which faded as soon as he looked down.

 

"Tom, could you put some pants on please?"

 

"In a minute, Chuck, in a minute."

 

~

 

Chancer rushed towards his grandfather's body, as suddenly, he was punched to the ground. "You lying freak!" a voice rang in his ears.

 

"Cynthia, enough," Ito was rasping, as he sheathed his blade.

 

"He's a creep and a traitor!" Shiv yelled, a blade drawn.

 

"You're the creep, you bitchy little wolverine!" Sharpe retorted angrily, rearing, as he wiped the mud from his face. "The traitor bit however, I, uh, I have no defense."

 

Shiv snarled as she raised her hand to slap him- only for Ito to grab it just as quickly.

 

"Cynthia, we're leaving," Ito commanded, as he led his daughter away. "Your betrayal is noted, Montgomery," he lamented, before walking off. His daughter sulked, but obliged.

 

"Woah, who was that guy?" Rigger asked, as the Misfits arrived downstairs.

 

"The best man I'll ever know," Chancer bowed his head shamefully, as he lay his hand tenderly over Gambler's face, his body impaled on a set of broken pipes, and shut his grandfather's eyelids.

 

"Chancer, are you-" Chuck began.

 

Chancer wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I'm fine, really," he said. "Oh, damn, I don't do well around blood," he admitted, as he looked down at Gambler's bloodied chest.

 

"Don't do well around blood? You're a supervillian," Reardon said in disbelief.

 

Hellhound looked over to the others, and tutted irritably. "Missed it, it's already passed on."

 

"You mean- You mean it could be here among us right now?" Chuck asked anxiously.

 

Hellhound winked. '"Ah, don't worry, there's still some telltale signs to watch out for. He only goes for sad cases anyhow. Has anyone displayed any recent, sudden urges of arousal?"

 

Chancer rubbed the back of his neck, Rigger looked at the floor. "How recent?"

 

...

 

He shook his head. "Oh god, we could all be next."

 

After a moment's silence, Blake finally spoke up. "So! No more cults?"

 

"Oh, fuck, yeah, no more cults," Rigger agreed.

 

"Unless they're Manson themed!" Blake added.

 

"Yeah! ... What, no," Rigger frowned.

 

"Right. Yeah, I agree," he muttered sheepishly.

 

"Oh, I dunno, I heard Manson had some bitchin' parties," Sharpe said.

 

"Oh, yeah, you'd love them," Dekker smiled, as he refilled his margarita glass.

 

Chuck, Reardon, Blake and Rigger turned their heads toward him. "Seriously. What the hell are you doing here?"

 

Hellhound stroked Gambler's face and monologued privately. "Whenever there is lust or pity, or shame, the King will be there. Wherever loneliness thrives and libidos rise, the King will be there. Always. No matter how small, the king will be there, whispering tainted words, preying on fear, inciting arousal in the hearts of men. Perverting intimacy and love, the King will survive. He always survives," Hellhound lamented softly. "Come along Cheadle."

 

"No, sorry," Reardon began, sticking his arm out. "Why did you call your dog that?"

 

"Now now, don't disrespect the king. Don Cheadle played Iron Man 2: That silver son of a bitch is my favourite Marvel character."

 

Rigger stopped. "No, his name wasn't Iron Man 2, it was a sequel to Iron Man."

 

"For real?"

 

The Misfits looked at each other and nodded.

 

"Won't lie, kinda blowing my mind," Hellhound replied.

 

"Why- Why did you think he kept saying War Machine, then?" Chuck asked.

 

"He's American."

 

...

 

"Sam Rockwell carried that film," Rigger interjected.

 

Reardon nodded. "He really did."

 

=The Walker Residence. Keystone=

 

The door slammed open with a thud as Drury Walker, the Suit at his side, entered the living room, and hurled a suitcase at Axel. "We can't stay in Keystone."

 

The twins looked up in protest. "What, why?" Axel complained.

 

"Because another stinking speedster wants me dead, there, I said it!" Drury grumbled, as he threw several framed pictures into the bag carelessly. The house phone began to buzz, and he swore under his breath. "Yes, Suit, I know it's crazy to have a landline in 2020, but shut up."

 

"Are we going to have to transfer again? How am I supposed to get my degree?" Kitten complained.

 

"I know, and I'm sorry, but- Fucking phone!" he yelled angrily. The siblings took a concerned step back.

 

Drury stared incredulously as, before he could answer it, The Suit grabbed the phone and held it to its' head, nodding along as the caller spoke, before finally handing it back to him.

 

"Drury? Drury Walker?" a panicked female voice called out.

 

Drury's brow furrowed. "Yeah, that's- Who's this?" he asked.

 

"Jenna, Jenna Duffy. Gar and I- Well, you're his emergency contact- I didn't know who else to call."

 

Drury's eyes widened. "Slow down, what-"

 

Her voice was trembling. "He's in the hospital, he's in bad shape. We were walking home from work, and it happened so fast, but-"

 

Drury gripped the phone tightly. "What's wrong with him? What happened to Gar?"

 

Jenna paused, her voice breaking. "H- He was hit by a car."

 

Drury dropped the phone and staggered backwards. "No."

Done