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Araignée captive depuis cinq mois et demi et nourrie essentiellement de gendarmes (Pyrrhocoris apterus,) disponibles toute la saison hivernale. Le cocon d'une deuxième ponte est visible en arrière-plan. Photo prise deux jours avant une troisième ponte.
Captive spider for five months and a half. Mostly fed with Firebugs (Pyrrhocoris apterus) available the whole winter season. The cocoon of a second laying can be seen behind. photo taken two days before a third laying.
I wake up to find I'm in the school's infirmary. In the beds around me, is the rest of the team. I try to get up, but I just feel this aching in my back. Oh, my back. I see Pharaoh talking to Neverdie, seemingly apologizing for Clarion's cockiness. Apparently, Pharaoh was able to nullify Neverdie's armor, which led to Glory winning. Lieutenant Liberty looks to be in the best shape out of all of us, as he's already getting out of his bed. Our teacher, Mr. Grey, enters the room, I assume to check up on us. He looks around, and finally points at the tv.
"Good, seems the news is already reporting about the series of arsons. Saves me time and energy. I've sent the location of the most recent arson to your badges. Get there as soon as you can." I hear Grey say with almost no regard for our well-being. He's about to leave, before I speak up.
"Oh, so that's all? Not here to check up on us and see how we're doing? Just business as usual?" While I'm talking, I get up out of my bed, and put my costume on. Guess it's time to get to work.
"You're fine. Maybe a few bruises here and there, but nothing major. Anyways, I'll be leaving now.." With that, Grey leaves the room.
"What time is it?" Wiley asks, as he's wiping his eyes.
"2:45 pm, why?" Neverdie responds, as he looks at the clock in the infirmary.
"What was that?" It looks as though Wiley didn't even hear him.
"2:45 PM! Got it?"
"Yeah, I got it this time.. Ah crap, I got to go to work! Can't be late! I'll catch up with you guys later, I guess?!" Oh right, Wiley did mention to us the other day that he works at Muchacho's Burgers.
Before we're given any time to respond, he zips off.
"Guess it'll just be the 5 of us. We better get going." Silver Lance bluntly says while putting his costume on.
"Hey, could I tag along with one of you? Cause otherwise it'll take me forever to get there, as my teleporting isn't all too reliable these days." Mushroom Man asks as I notice him sweating.
"Yeah for sure man! I've gotcha covered." I say, trying to reassure him.
"C ya later Pharaoh, as there's justice to be done!" Liberty's enthusiasm is almost contagious, it's scary.
We all start making our way there in various ways. Silver Lance, me, and Mushroom Man via flight, while Liberty and Neverdie get there via teleportation.
To be fair, I'm not really the investigative type, so when the team arrives at the given location, I'm not sure how big of a help I'll be. We check out the scene looking for anything out of the ordinary. Besides a whole lot of rubble, there's not really much to look at.
"Over here guys!" Silver Lance yells out. As we walk over to where he is, we notice scorch marks on the ground. It's not very visible, but they are there. There's not just one either, as there is almost a trail leading out of the building.
"Let's see where this leads." Neverdie says, as he starts following the trail of scorch marks. I along with the rest of the team follow behind him. Hopefully this gives us something worthwhile. We follow this trail for what seems like forever, before it eventually just stops. We check out some of the buildings nearby, but it doesn't really give us anything useful.
"So what now? We aren't any closer than when we started.." I say, slightly frustrated.
"Why don't we just stake this out? I mean, the next target could be around here somewhere.."
"Mushroom Man brings up a good point. I feel like that may be our best course of action at this point." Silver Lance replies, as we go back to the latest building hit by this arsonist.
As we're waiting around, I decide to get my work out on. I put in my headphones, and start doing push ups, crunches, squats, and other exercises to keep myself in optimal shape. Lance, Liberty, Neverdie, and Mushroom Man decided to get some actual steak, and are just hanging out, having fun. Hours pass by, before anything really happens. We notice a burning building in the distance, so we start moving towards it. It doesn't take all that long before we arrive at the burning building. I can hear screaming inside the building, but there's a winged figure that flies out of the building..
"Liberty, and Silver Lance, follow that person, while me, Fautline, and Mushroom Man rescue civilians."
"I'm team leader Neverdie! That means I make the calls! Though, that does work. What about Wiley?"
"That doesn't matter right now, just go! As for Wiley, I'll give him a call." Neverdie responds. Silver Lance flies off after the figure with Lieutenant Liberty teleporting, not too far behind them. I create an earth slide that reaches up to the second level. The three of us here run into the building. Neverdie ends up calling Wiley, but I guess he doesn't answer, so he ends up calling Muchacho's Burger's itself. I make my way up to the second floor. Upon entering one of the rooms, I notice three people. A mother, father, and their daughter. The ceiling's about to collapse, but I create an earth shield.
"Go! I won't be able to hold this up for long! Through the window at the end of the hall, there's a slide set up." The father picks up their daughter, and they all dash out of the room. There's a whole lot of weight pushing down on my shield but I'm able to hold it long enough to get out of the room. Walking through the hallway, avoiding falling debris, I make sure the rest of the rooms are cleared, before making my way down to the first floor. It looks like Mushroom Man, and Neverdie cleared out the first floor. I feel the earth below me once I'm outside, just to make sure no one else is inside. Phew, no one's still inside. With everyone at a safe distance, I call the authorities. Me and Mushroom Man stay, and Neverdie leaves to join the fight against the arsonist.
----------------------
POV change to Silver Lance
The figure notice us following, and flies in a zig zag, trying to make things difficult. They throw fireballs at both me and Lieutenant Liberty, but we're able to avoid it relatively easily.
"Why are you doing this?" I inquire, but there's no response. Navigating our way through the city, narrowly dodging signs, and other things that are in the way as we exchange shots at each other. Liberty tries to teleport onto the flyer, but overshot by quite a bit. This cycle repeats for a few minutes, before I notice an orange blur, running along the monorail. That could only be one person.. Wiley.. As he reaches the end of the monorail, I see him leap from it, dive bombing onto the flyer. I use that moment to blast the flyer downwards. Within seconds, the flyer collides with the wall, and is out cold.. Their helmet cracks, and reveals their face. I come closer, and see the face of a girl that's middle-aged. Liberty catches up. Since she took most of the impact, Wiley's looking quite spry. It's a few minutes, before the rest of our team arrives. It's during this time that I call the police. Another win under our belts!! First Monster, now this Firebug. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself, and no, that loss against Glory doesn't count.
End
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So I'm bringing back my Sunrise City story! Rebranding it Heroes of Somerset Academy! If you are at all interested in me tagging you in this series, feel free to let me know.
==Blackgate Prison==
After The Sandstorm
"Name?" the guard called out.
The inmate, a bearded, tattooed man in his mid to late 60s, looked up. "Gaige," he replied in a low whisper.
"And... Your first name?" the guard asked tiredly.
"Just Gaige," the inmate repeated firmly.
The guard shrugged. 'Fair enough.' He'd dealt with enough wack jobs in his time here, he wasn't planning on starting a fight with some pretentious pensioner. He checked his register, and finding Gaige's name, nodded. "Alright, Madonna, you're in C-Block. Gary here'll show you to your cell," he said disinterestedly, as a second guard walked Gaige off.
That night, sitting in his cell alone, the doctor ripped the left sleeve off of his jumpsuit, and wrapped the fabric around his forehead like a mask.
~-~
It wasn't long before his reputation gained him some unwelcome attention; the day he was released into general population, Gaige was sat in the cafeteria by himself, chewing on a mouthful of dry tuna. Midway through his pitiful meal, a pair of inmates approached him. The leader, a man in his mid forties with short brown hair and an eyepatch, nudged Gaige on the shoulder. Harlan Combs. The other, an Elvis lookalike, with tall, greasy black hair, stood behind him, sneering. Johnny LaMonica. Both were former flunkies for Danto Twag.
"Hey, little fish," Combs teased. "That's my seat."
Gaige sighed, resting his plastic fork on the table. "Listen, American Dad-"
"It's Firebug," Combs corrected him sternly.
Raising his mask above his eyes to get a better look at the pair, Gaige examined first Combs and then LaMonica, letting out a low sardonic chuckle. "No, it isn't. Now, back off, Fury, less you want to lose that other eye," Gaige warned, his tone shifting.
"Funny you mention that," Combs nodded sarcastically. "It was your bitch of a daughter who stabbed it out; never got the chance to thank her... But then- Then fate's delivered you into my lap..." he growled, as he gripped Gaige's shoulder even tighter. "Speaking of the little, ah, minx, there's a nasty rumour flying around here about Ra's and her. My boy Johnny was saying that the old ghoul fucked her cor-"
Without warning, Gaige shrugged off his hand, grabbed his fork and rammed it into Combs' remaining eye. He let out a pained shriek, stumbling backwards into LaMonica's arms, blood gushing down his face. LaMonica, looked back at Gaige, his face pale.
"Warned you," Gaige said, bloodied fork in hand. "Whitewashed little pricks," he muttered, as he dipped the utensil back into his pot of tuna.
"Hey," LaMonica shuddered, putting his hands in the air. "I got no beef with you, ese."
"Oho, I'll have what he's having," another inmate, a young man with dirty blonde hair, joked, as he watched LaMonica drag Combs away. "Kidding. Kidding," he added.
"It's you isn't it, The Demon Slayer?" he asked Gaige, an awed smile across his face.
He didn't respond.
"Hah, boy, yeah. 'Thought I recognised that jawline," the man continued unperturbed, as he slid in beside Gaige.
"Go away," he replied, as he gripped the still bloody fork.
The inmate shook his head disarmingly. "Woah, buddy, no need to be hostile- I mean you no harm. Honestly? I just wanted to congratulate you. I mean, Ra's Al Ghul? Wow! And with a poisoned harpoon? Gnarly stuff man, real gnarly. Heck, just the other day, Ramsay here told me that they found him with a smashed up rib cage and a sword in his chest. Fuckin' metal, man, honestly. Fair play, mate, you deserve a fucking medal." he clapped. Ramsay, the dark skinned man on the inmate's right, curled his lip.
Gaige glowered at the inmate's entourage, then rose to his feet.
"Hey, did I do something wrong or something?" The inmate asked him, a note of hurt in his voice.
"Everything," Gaige snarled definitively. "No one likes a kiss-ass."
~-~
A few days later, as Gaige entered his cell, he sniffed the air suspiciously. A familiar scent of rot and decay wafted up his nostrils, and he looked up to the source- a black clad figure sat in the rafters: A Talon.
Descending from the ceiling, it hurled a throwing star at Gaige, grazing his forehead. Distracted by his wound, the Talon grabbed his right arm from behind, pinning it around his back, the bones cracking slightly.
Incensed, Gaige used his free arm to grab the Talon by its collar, and with ferocious strength, he slung it over his shoulders into the farthest brick wall. Disoriented, the Talon dropped to its knees, unable to defend itself from Gaige's next attack. He dragged it over to the toilet, and smashed its head with the seat repeatedly. It was weaker than the ones at the manor had been, and healed slower. No doubt, Gaige deduced, a result of the recent Dionesium shortage Walker had engineered at Nanda Parbat. Which was lucky for him, as if it were at full strength, it would have decapitated him as soon as he'd entered the cell. Gaige pulled the seat back up, then pinned the Talon up against the wall.
"Demon Slayer, The Court of Owls has sentenced you to-," it started to gag.
"Yeah, I know. I fuckin' know," Gaige hissed, cutting it off, as he unsheathed its sai and ran it through its throat. The Talon gurgled as greyish blood trickled down its armour, then its arms fell down to its side, its body twitching slightly as what little life was left in it faded. "If you're still in there, be sure to tell your masters to try harder," Gaige whispered in its ear triumphant.
Nonetheless, aware that it could spring back into life at any moment, Gaige took his bedsheets, bound the Talon's limbs together and hung its body from the ceiling. 'Even if it were to resurrect itself, there'd be little it could do whilst hanging by its neck,' he reasoned. Gaige let out a heavy breath, as he slid against the wall of his cell, exhausted.
~-~
The following day, upon returning to his cell after lunch, he paused. Waiting in his newly renovated cell, was a fully stocked fish tank. Gaige raised a confused eyebrow, then tilted his head back to the entrance. Standing in the doorway, was that same blond inmate from before.
"Heard you had a visitor last night," he called out. "Pity. Still, you seemed to handle yourself pretty well. Tiger Shark." The inmate raised his arm out to Gaige, offering him a handshake. "We didn't really get to know each other earlier. My name's David," he smiled.
"I know who are, Franco," Gaige responded. "Roman Sionis' errand boy."
The boyish facade lifted, as a vicious scowl broke across Franco's face. "Not if it's Sionis who told you, you don't," he spat. "Sionis, is a moody man child who'll execute anyone that tells him no, and torture anyone that says maybe. So, fuck Roman, and anything he told you."
And then, as though nothing had happened, Franco grinned back at Gaige. "So, what do I call you? Like, what's your real name?"
"The Physician's fine," Gaige stated insistently.
"Cool... Very cool. Mysterious! So, you like it?" Franco asked, gesturing to the fishtank.
"These are saltwater fish," Gaige murmured irritably. "They're not going to last the night in this tank. "Don't try and bribe me," he advised. "I don't like suck-ups."
"Look, I know Sionis screwed you over too, buddy." Franco called after him. "He killed your assistant way back when- I know- I was the guy who cleaned that mess up. He made you work against your family- your family. Shit's not right, man.
I was the one running his drug racket whilst he was thrown in Arkham City, but what thanks did I get? Thrown off a roof by the Bat and condemned to Blackgate. Did he come to bail me out, did he, shit! And that? That's why we need each other. The mob never used to be like this, we used to communicate, work together. It was never supposed to be one sadistic dickhead calling the shots. We need to level that playing field. What do you say?"
"Meh. Incognito was a traitor," Gaige said disinterestedly, and he sauntered off.
~-~
Weeks passed, and the situation remained the same. Every few days, Franco would ask for Gaige's help, and every time, the doctor would turn him down.
Until one day, while lifting weights in the yard, Gaige looked up from the bench press as two bald men entered the rec center, recognising both immediately. "I'm just saying, it's his own damn fault; wasn't he just in rehab?" the first complained, dressed in a white onesie covered in bright dots.
"I don't care about his recreational activities, Abner, he's an integral part of my partners' plan," the second, dressed in a white cape and red robes responded tiredly.
"What's he gonna do, hop menacingly?" the Polka Dot Man asked, chuckling at the surreal image he'd conjured up in his head, as he stopped by a nearby table. "You got any of those pudding cups?" he asked the closest inmate. Then, without waiting for an answer, he snatched the plastic cup and scooped the contents into his mouth.
"It's acting up again, isn't it? Hypoglycaemia, wasn't it?" the Calendar Man inquired.
"Yeah," Krill nodded feverishly. "Gotta keep that blood sugar steady, doc says... Though, plays havoc on my spots, of course... And skurvey's a growing concern," he said, rubbing his cheeks.
"Hmph. Remind me to send you a fruit basket," Day smiled snarkily.
"If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer cash," Krill grinned back.
"Then perhaps, you shouldn't have delayed," Day said aerily, checking his watch.
"Hey, not my fault, now is it? I've got other clients y'know," Krill was complaining. "Take that Carson guy for instance, real pain in the neck, has me camped out in a dingy apartment on Ward Avenue. And I'll tell you what's really rich- he's dying to meet you. So, yeah, sue me, I wanna know who're these big bads you're bending over to."
"Carson?" Gaige muttered under his breath, as he observed the duo, scowling at the namedrop. Ted Carson, was meant to be trapped in a demonic hellscape last he'd heard. And the world had been better for it.
"Brave heart, Abner," Day advised his counterpart. "You'll meet my partners when I deem it appropriate. And if that moron is still out there, keeping Drury occupied, we can continue unimpeded."
"Yeah, alright," Krill sniffed. "I just don't know how much more of Jumbo's homemade chilli I can take. I swear, he uses Mountain Dew or some shit, I kid you not." Trailing off mid rant, Krill glared over at Gaige. "What're you staring at, Pop-Eye?" he sneered.
"Nothing," Gaige muttered.
"Good," Krill nodded. "Good," he repeated as he followed after Day.
~-~
That afternoon, Gaige stormed over to Franco's table, a look of newfound determination upon his freshly shaven face. "I want in," he said sternly.
"Great!" Franco said, as he leapt up from the bench.
"But we do it my way."
"Sure," he shrugged, as he sat back down, trying his hardest to hide a very relieved smile. "What do you propose?"
~-~
A month later, Franco and Gaige stood outside the Iceberg Lounge, the cold autumn breeze whipping in their faces. It hadn't been hard to arrange their release from Blackgate, not once Sionis had recieved a series of DNA tests confirming what he had already assumed- Franco, was his bastard half brother.
Even so, it had taken immense pressure from his aides for Sionis to finally agree to a meeting with the pair- here, in the heart of the Penguin's criminal empire. Cobblepot's role, was arbiter, and his position as Mayor provided an air of legitimacy to proceedings.
Gaige, had reluctantly removed his mask- his past with Sionis would have otherwise stood in their way. He had instead applied heavy prosthetics to his face- few people had actually seen his full face of course, but it wasn't a risk they were willing to take.
As they approached the entrance, Franco stuck his hand out to Gaige. "This," he announced, winking back at his partner, "Is the Physician."
The closest henchman nodded to them both, then ushered them aside. "Mr Sionis does not like to be kept waiting," he said.
"Christ. They brought Ferris back?" Gaige muttered unenthusiastically, staring at the infamous, iron-masked figure sat at the table. "He is getting desperate."
"We did that man," Franco whispered assuredly. "We did that."
==Arkham Asylum. Present Day==
Batman examined a fallen piece of fabric on the ground- a striped yellow and black piece of tattered cloth not unlike the kind seen in a sports jacket.
"This way, sir."
Bruce nodded, picking it up, and placing the rolled up curiosity into a pouch on his belt. He rose to his feet, and followed the guard across a narrow walkway, stopping once the duo reached a tall metal door. The guard nodded to his two colleagues, stood at either side of it, and saw them off, as they gratefully retreated back to their posts.
The remaining guard turned his key in the lock, and the door opened with a low moan. Batman cautiously entered the room alone- the lone guard simply lingered in the doorway, anxiously. Sat in the corner of his cell, his hair unkept, his fingers bloodied, was-
"Crane."
The figure remained silent; the only noise he made was the tapping of his bony fingers against the armrest of his wheelchair. Undeterred, Batman continued, choosing his words carefully in an attempt to get a rise from him, a confession, he hoped. "You should know I spoke to Fries last week. He told me all about your missing shipment of Fearless. The one he stole from you."
Crane didn't reply.
Bruce put his hand to his chin, the cogs turning in his head, as he read Crane's body language. Every twitch, every breath told a story.
'Now,' Bruce thought, 'You and I both know your formula is useless without Dionesium. So, unless you have unearthed more Talons, that single shipment is all the Joker has. Not enough for the city wide plague you and Dent had envisioned, so it'd have to be somewhere concentrated... He'd have to have specific targets in mind; The Misfits, that's obvious, yes, but I imagine that, like me, he can't find them either... So, he doesn't know where they are now, but he does know where they're going to be, doesn't he? Or at least, where he can draw them to... But, it's not that simple though, is it? It never is. Not with you, not with Day, not with Joker. So, what's his second target? If I can only find the link between them and the Misfits, I can shut this all down.'
Crane, stared back at him defiantly, his silence unflinching.
"I wouldn't bother with him," the guard advised, glancing back at the inmate tensely. "He doesn't move, he barely eats. Hell, I'm not even sure if he sleeps, sir. He just... sits there."
Batman tilted his head back. "Any visitors?"
The guard shook his head. "None. If there were, I'd be the first to know, sir. I can give you his patient records if you want; they're signed by Doctor Arkham himself."
"No, that's not necessary," Batman replied. He looked around the cell, as though he felt he were being watched, like an invisible force was in the room with them, breathing on the back of his neck. 'No,' he repeated to himself, as he shook off the feeling and walked off down the hallway.
Crane waited until Bruce's footsteps had grown fainter and fainter and then he spoke, "He's gone," he said, seemingly to thin air. And then the guards froze in place, like a computer program had just been paused, before they vanished altogether; the sterile white walls gave way to reveal purple and green paint on every surface, and blood drenched across the floor; the cell door faded away, as did Crane's prison jumpsuit, revealing his signature Scarecrow mask and hat in its' place. And beside him, Zoom materialised. The rhythmic tapping of Billings' plastic leg against the concrete floor grew louder as finally, he entered the room dressed in his bright orange Spellbinder attire. "You think he bought it?" he said anxiously, taking a hearty gulp from a suspicious looking flask.
"Youbetter hoooooope soooooooo, Mr Billings," Zoom's voice crackled, as he snatched the flask out of his hands, a look that could almost be attributed to disgust upon his blurred face. "Oryouwill pay. Deaaaaaaaarly. Fooooooor theeeeee lessooooon tosucceed, wemustoperatein complete secrecy. Wemust ensure thaaaaaaat the Baaaaaaaatmaaaaaan cannotinterfere.
"Billings, is not the one with a case of Stockholm Syndrome towards the Batman. Joker is," Crane murmured.
Zoom's head swivelled in Crane's direction. "And yoooouuuuuuuu Scarecrow? Whatassurancedo we haaaaaaave thatyouwont betraaaaay usssssss?"
"Because," Crane said firmly, "Above all else, Mr Zolomon, I am a scientist. And I intend to see this little experiment of yours through to the end."
~-~
Batman entered the Batmobile, and put his finger against his temple. "Oracle, what are the current whereabouts of Delbert Billings?"
"Spellbinder? Alright, give me a moment" Barbara's voice replied, as she began typing into her keypad. "Ok, so, it says here that, about a month ago, he was en-route to Blackgate in the wake of another relapse. And from the sounds of things, he was barely in there 24 hours before he vanished."
"Hn," Batman grimaced, glancing back at the Asylum. "That's what I was worried about."
#bugs for #FlickrFriday
These are firebugs. In Russia, we call them soldier-bugs. There are a lot of them in spring and summer, and while they may look threatening because of their bright-red colour, they are not really harmful. They do not bite humans or animals, nor do they damage the agricultural crops very much.
Also, while I was googling what they are called in English, I found out that when firebugs are in this position, they are, in fact, mating.
Collaboration art:
Photography by: Deathbycanon-stock
deathbycanon-stock.deviantart.…
Photo Manipulation and Computer Art: TrinityHawk Photography & Multimedia
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/Trinton.TrinityHawk
Website:
Dans la coulée verte à Châtillon, le 11 Octobre 2015
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Boîtier : CANON EOS 60D
Objectif : TAMRON SP 90mm f/2.8 Di VC USD MACRO 1:1
Flash : Yongnuo YN-560 III déporté.
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==Arkham Asylum: Guard Quarters==
"Let me see! Let me see!"
“Careful, you’re crumpling them!”
"Ooh, such wonderful emotions! Delicious, frozen expressions!"
Abner Krill’s face was pressed against the microwave, like a child’s at the zoo’s red panda exhibit, as he waited for his cocoa to be ready; the room was small, modest, and utilitarian, which had suited the Asylum Guards just fine in the past. Hayden and Billings had cornered their newest member, Mister Camera, and were clearly enjoying themselves as they perused through the shoebox he’d retrieved from the 'Bug House.' The microwave pinged, and Krill removed the steaming mug from inside.
Billings had spotted a particularly erotic photo from the pile and grabbed it, bearing a crooked smile as he rubbed his thumb across the edge. "My my, is that lace? That naughty little bug girl… Rather nicely composed too...”
Krill snorted from the sidelines, as he stirred a sixth spoonful of sugar into his hot cocoa. "You don't know dick about composition, you peg legged twat."
"I'm a filmmaker, Krill, an auteur, I picked up a few things,” Billings replied condescendingly.
"Mm. About filmmaking or alcoholism? 'Cause, didn't it bomb? Like, bomb so bad the suits sent you to rehab? Twice."
Billings spun around, photo still in hand. "Now, you listen here, you pimpled prat! That was entirely out of my hands!" he scowled, his face turning a deep scarlet. "The Society completely dicked me over! Class A censorship from small-nubbed pricks! If I was allowed to tell my vision-!"
"Stop it! You're dribbling alcohol onto them!" Sims clutched Billings arm, protecting his precious photos from Spellbinder’s spit.
The squeak of rubber on metal broke up the argument. The crackle of lightning kept it that way. Crane sat in the doorway, two tired, mismatched eyes and a downturned mouth peeking out from behind his burlap mask; Zoom stood behind him, fists balled. "Cease your juvenile ogling, you primitive pack of apes, you all have work to do," Crane chastised the group. They didn’t need to be told a second time; Sims exited first, carrying the shoebox under his arm; then Hayden, kicking the ground defiantly; Billings shuffled away last, wiping the rim of his flask with his cuff.
Zoom however, stayed rooted to the spot, his blurred gaze fixed on Krill. Crane stared at him suspiciously, then wheeled himself away.
"Yeah?" Krill eyed the Speedster expectantly, slurping his hot chocolate from an Arkham-Branded mug.
“I haaaaaaaaavea job foryooooooouuuuuuuu,” Zoom slurred. “Offthe record.”
Krill smirked back, a greedy glint in his eyes. "Will it pay?"
"Ohyes."
==GCPD==
A group of four entered the GCPD; security was lax as of late; with so many dead and even more injured, it was easy for Chuck, Gar, Joey and Bridget to slip in through the roof; Chuck went on ahead to check out the interrogation room and gather clues while the three pyros lingered by the cell block. Confused, Joey looked at Ted Carson, still held behind iron bars.
"Joker didn't want him?" he whispered to Gar, conscious not to upset Bridget.
"Would you?" Gar answered back coldly.
“Laugh it up, Bug Boys,” Carson growled at the duo. “I’ll get outta here, and I’ll kill you all.”
“Hn. And I thought some time to yourself would give you space to reflect,” Gar stared at him, flicking his lighter shut. “Guess I figured wrong.”
“Ah, but it did. ‘Cause now I know what to do. No more schemes. No more plans. No more lousy, two-faced partners. I’m just gonna burn it all down.”
Gar’s brow shifted slightly. “Good luck with that,” he scoffed, stepping aside. As he did so, Carson finally noticed his daughter. His jaw slackened, his eyes narrowed, his puffed-out chest deflated, at the sight of this final, crushing betrayal.
"Bridget?" he choked, struggling to process her presence.
Bridget fidgeted with her hands, avoiding her father’s gaze. "Dad..." she began to defend herself, but nothing came out. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference anyway.
"You're with them now, is that it?” Carson scowled. "Figures.”
Gar exhaled, stepping back in front of Bridget defensively. "You, are an idiot,” he remarked. “A big, shiny, Megazord of an idiot."
"Careful," Carson warned.
"Oh, please! If you were any sort of a husband or father, if you ever cared for your wife, for Bridget; for Jumbo for crying out loud, you'd have gone back to your family as soon as you'd woken up, when you were resurrected that very first time. Or the second time. Or the third. Or the fourth. But no, you just had to get revenge on your killer, on a drunk fuckin' driver, no matter what! You couldn't let it go that the great "Ted Carson" got punted 100 yards by Killer Moth in his bright purple Mothmobile. If that were me, if I had died, and somehow, through divine, demonic or whatever that crap was, intervention, I'd run back to my apartment, I would hold my little girl in my arms, and I would not let go. But look at you! You! You let yourself get so fucking consumed by vengeance that you let it all slip away.
Drury didn’t ruin your life. He didn’t destroy your family. By the way, he didn’t put you in Arkham either. You did that all on your own."
Finished, Gar stormed off, Joey in pursuit. Yet, despite every fibre of her being telling her not to, Bridget lingered by the door to her dad’s cell.
“Go on then,” Carson growled. “Run back to ‘daddy.’”
But Bridget didn’t. She couldn’t. Despite everything he’d said and done, despite her newfound loyalty to the Misfits…
He was still her father.
~-~
Chuck knelt beside an upturned table in the interrogation room, peeling off a scrap from an orange jumpsuit that had been caught on the edge. ‘Drury…’ he lamented quietly. Amongst the glass, and the trails of dried blood, he found something else; a single Joker card pinned to a sheet of A5 paper. The door behind him opened, signifying Gar and Joey’s arrival.
“Anything?” Gar asked, not expecting a whole lot.
"Looks like he left a note,” Chuck replied, noticing some writing on the back.
“What's it say?” Joey inquired.
Chuck cleared his throat, and began to read: "225g plain flour, two teaspoons bicarbonate of soda, ground ginger, a pinch of cinnamon, 75g unsalted butter, 100g soft brown sugar and 100g golden syrup. To decorate: one bar of dark chocolate, finely grated."
"I- I think it's a shopping list."
~-~
The group walked back the way they came, despondent over their lack of leads. Carson remained in his cell, but something had changed in his demeanour, an underlying quiet malice. Dragging behind, a voice called out to Chuck from the cell diagonal Carson’s. A cold, refined voice that Chuck had hoped he’d heard the last of:
"Charlie?"
Chuck turned around: Julian was standing by the bars, a quizzical expression on his face.
“You look healthy,” Chuck replied, perhaps a little more venomously than he had intended.
“Your poison has worked its' way out of my system, yes. As you can see, the GCPD is rather short staffed at the moment,” Julian observed, a slight, malicious smile on his face.
“That ‘poison’ is meant to help you, Julian,” Chuck responded. “You’re sick.”
“Yes, of oh so many things… You never understood Diaxymine, Charlie. It’s not a solution, it doesn’t suppress my darker half and worse impulses. It never did. It’s a flood. Drowning me in remorse. Burying me in sorrow and pity and regret. Is this how it is for you? For the Misfits? Knowing that despite how hard you try to better yourself, the things you’ve done, those terrible terrible things will stick with you, forever.”
“Yes.”
“How can you bear it?” Julian inquired, in a tone that revealed an underlying pain.
“By trying my hardest, doing the best I can.”
“Then surely, you understand why I tried to free you from that burden? From that pain? To escape from that baggage and be your truest self?” Julian asked softly.
Chuck took a step towards the exit and opened it. “No,” he called back. “And I never will.”
==<???>==
Emerging from a kaleidoscopic vortex, Krill and his charge stepped forward onto weightless ground, only to be hit by a blinding wave of white light; They were standing in a void of white clouds, lit up by bolts of coloured lightning. The only sounds were the faint rumblings of thunder in the distance. Krill lowered his goggles over his eyes and began scanning for signs of life. "Thought you said this place was a prison?" he squinted.
Zoom looked out at the howling wilderness. "Itis."
Krill frowned. It didn't look like a prison. It looked like Cloud Cuckoo Land, and Zoom’s non-committal responses weren’t helping matters. He peeled a dot off his chest, and hurled into in the endless void, hoping it could find something his scanners couldn’t. They were standing in something elemental; Krill knew that much. Something ancient. Something ethereal.
Something wrong.
As they walked (that's right, walked not ran), something changed in the air, the fluffy white clouds all around them turned grey, as though they were travelling into a hurricane of swirling wind. The sounds of thunder overhead became louder. The lightning changed too, gone was the rainbow of colours, only one hue remained, angrier, more aggressive than the rest: Red.
And the further they walked; the more anxious Krill became. "Where are we? What... what have you done?" he asked, uncharacteristically uncertain. Shaken.
"Zoom. Where are we?" he asked again.
"Thislesson isbeyondme. Ineed someone toshow me the way,” Zoom whispered quietly, merely raising more unsettling questions.
"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU TAKEN ME?!" Krill bellowed, his entire body quaking; tiny globs of spittle flew out of his mouth and landed on Zoom's face. He ripped two dots off his shoulders and pointed them at Zoom’s face, both glowing with neon energy.
"Iwould nooooooot do thaaaaat ifiwere youuuuuuuuuu,” Zoom wagged his finger back and forth.
"Yeah? Why the hell not?" Krill demanded, his eyes bulging.
"Youuuuuuuuuuuuu'll unsettle the wraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiths."
Krill’s arm fell by his side, the energy dissipating from his fists. Realisation had set in, and grovelling even quicker. "Oh... Oh, God. I... I was loyal. Didn't betray you, didn't tell Bats or the Kite-Man shit. You don't... You don't have to do this. Please, don't do this."
Zoom cocked his head to one side, a motion that could almost be described as pity. "Youmisunderstand, Aaaaaaaaabneeeeeer. Thisis not apunishment. Thisisa leeeeeeeesssoooooooon."
"Lesson." A word that anyone who had ever been on Zoom's receiving end had learned to fear. But Krill wouldn't stick around for the demonstration, he reached for the dial on his belt, and then a final, gut-wrenching twist of the knife: The belt was gone.
As Krill struggled to reconcile what had happened, Zoom raised his hand, and his heart beat even faster than before: all his hopes of escape vanished at once. Dangling from Zoom’s wrist was his red belt. Krill had never even noticed he'd taken it. Zoom’s syllabus was at last revealed with one haunting phrase: "Suuuuuuuuuuuuurvival ofthe fittest."
"No. Please. I'm not like the rest of the psychotic grunts who lube themselves up over LiveLeaks or nuke cities for jollies," Krill chuckled nervously, sweat across his pimpled brow. "I'm... I'm like you."
Before Zolomon could answer, a third voice broke through the fog; calm, arrogant, evil. "Oh, Abner, I don't think we're alike at all.”
“Quite the reverse, actually."
Krill tried to offer a pitiful rebuttal, but it was too late: Lightning bolts wrapped around his wrists like manacles, dragging him deeper into the void, his corporeal form fading, then for a moment: silence.
The Storm had accepted Zoom's offering. And then all at once, red lightning shot down on the spot Krill had been standing prior, forming a yellow silhouette. "In academic circles, this is what we'd call a 'teaching moment,' Mr Krill,” the figure smiled, his image becoming clearer; he looked like Zolomon but his uniform was a brighter yellow, his build was leaner, his red irises were exposed, and he was smiling. The Professor, was in.
“Class dismissed.”
Zolomon offered his mentor Krill’s belt; the device clicked as Thawne fastened it around his waist; a portal opened, but more destructively than before; without its true master, the circular vortex was jagged, unstable. But the Reverse-Flashes didn't need long. Faster than you could blink, they were gone; and the portal folded in on itself, leaving the Speedforce quiet once more.
==Keystone City. West Residence==
Wally West closed the door to his daughter Irey’s bedroom, then sped downstairs, yellow lightning trailing after him. His wife Linda was on the sofa, who, upon spying him, raised a bottle of non-alcoholic wine off the coffee table.
“Kids asleep?” she asked slyly.
“Yep,” Wally smirked; in an instant, he was sitting beside her on the sofa. He held up a glass and she began to trickle wine into it.
“Merry Christmas, Mr West,” she kissed him on the cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs Park,” he smiled back cheekily, reciprocating with a longer smooch on the lips.
Then suddenly, Wally stumbled back, clutching his head as images flooded his head. The glass hit the floor, shattering on impact, and staining the floor a blood red.
"Wally? You OK?" Linda knelt beside him, placing her arm around him comfortingly.
"I... I don't know."
Araignée captive depuis cinq mois et demi et nourrie essentiellement de gendarmes (Pyrrhocoris apterus,) disponibles toute la saison hivernale. Le cocon d'une deuxième ponte est visible en arrière-plan. Photo prise deux jours avant une troisième ponte.
Captive spider for five months and a half. Mostly fed with Firebugs (Pyrrhocoris apterus) available the whole winter season. The cocoon of a second laying can be seen behind. photo taken two days before a third laying.
Pyrrhocoris apterus
Petit insecte commun (9 mm ici) aux nombreux noms vernaculaires (pompiers, diable, suisse, soldat...) en raison de sa couleur.
A common little insect (9 mm here) with many vernacular names in France (fireman, devil, swiss, soldier...) because of its color.
The first bonfire of the year.
A bonfire is a large but controlled outdoor fire, used either for informal disposal of burnable waste material or as part of a celebration. The name "bonfire" is derived from the fact that bonfires were originally fires in which bones were burned.
The firebug, Pyrrhocoris apterus, is a common insect of the family Pyrrhocoridae. Firebugs generally mate in April and May. Their diet consists primarily of seeds from lime trees and mallows.
This favourite (this a flower)
www.flickr.com/photos/18718027@N00/1169358138/in/photostr...
With us taking down Firebug, we spent the rest of our day unwinding. This includes Wiley going to the skate park, and Lieutenant Liberty going out for patrol, with Neverdie tagging along. I'm not really sure where the other two went, though Mushroom Man did mention some sort of inter-dimensional bar, so maybe that's where he is. As for me, I go back home and start listening to music, while doing various work outs. Got to keep myself in peak condition, ya know? So I pump some iron for a few hours, before I take a shower and crash on my bed afterwards, trying to make myself fall asleep. Not bad for our third day! Or was it fourth? Honestly, it already feels like we've attended Somerset forever, even though we haven't even been there for a week. It takes me about half an hour before I fall asleep. Please be a dream about me and some girl!
--------
Morning came, and I don't remember what I dreamt of. With my luck, it was probably just the same nightmare I've had for months, ever since Derrick's death. My best friend, taken from this world right in front of me. He was murdered by a Glorbax, when they invaded Sunrise City. Now he'll never get to experience the rest of his life. My phone alarm of Joel Angel's latest hit song blares loudly, which is enough motivation for me to spring up from my bed, and get ready for the day ahead of me. It's still strange, being the only one in the house. After the invasion, my parents decided to move, and wanted me to come with them. Determined to become a hero, I stubbornly told them I'd stay in Sunrise. I have to be here, becoming the best hero I can be, just incase they ever come again. While my parents aren't physically here, they send me money, along with letters every chance they can, saying how proud of me they are. I miss talking with them everyday about the smallest of things. Enough of me reminiscing though, as my eggs are ready. I pour myself a glass of milk, and bring it, along with the eggs, with me into the living room. I turn on the TV, and eat, while watching the morning news. Soon enough, it's time to leave. I quickly brush my teeth, before putting on my costume, and walking out the door, making sure to lock the door behind me.
I create an earth disk, and step onto it, before lifting off the ground, flying my way to Somerset Academy. As I get closer, I see some other students in the air traffic, and I do my best to avoid colliding into them. It doesn't take long before I arrive at Somerset, landing myself outside, close to the front doors. I open the door, and make my way through the crowded hallways, until I reach my locker. After grabbing my books, I head to my first class, saying hello to people I know on the way. Most greet me back, but there are some that give me ice-cold glares (Lightshow specifically). It doesn't take long before I reach my first class. Class begins with the teacher talking about the history of Sunrise City.. So much for intro to heroics. As the time ticks by, I try to entertain myself with varying thoughts, and drawings. I get called on to answer some questions, but since I wasn't really listening all that well, I blurt out some random nonsense. Turns out that Captain Smasher was the first hero to murder a villain in Sunrise City. R.i.p Blitzfire. Ah yes, the 80s and 90s, a time when being edgy as a superhero was in. With vigilantes like Mr. X, The Red King, Black Thunder, Nightbolt, Citadel, Golden Prodigy, the Mighty Mamba, Heavensent, and Moonlight being prominent in the 90s. An hour or so later, class ends, and I decide to meet up with the rest of the team. I send a message in our group chat, and we decide to meet outside by the coliseum. I'm surprisingly the first to arrive, so I lean on the wall closest to me, as I wait.
"I have arrived!" I hear someone say. I look to my right, and in front of me stands Lieutenant Liberty.
"Gah! Seriously??! Man, you can't just do that! I know that's part of your power set, but the way you do it freaks me out."
"Sorry, I made sure to even announce my arrival this time so you wouldn't freak out."
It takes a few minutes before the rest of the team arrives.
Neverdie: "So where to?"
Faultline: "What?? Oh, uhh I don't know.. I didn't really think that far ahead. I just wanted to hangout with you guys. Team building and all that ya know?"
Wiley: "I mean, there's some good deals going on at Muchacho's Burgers right now, so why not there?"
Lieutenant Liberty: "There's always justice to be served! Let's save some more lives!"
Silver Lance: "Well, let's go check it out, as I'm kind of curious about what they have there."
We set off for Muchacho's Burgers, with me transporting Mushroom Man along with Neverdie, and Wiley runs alongside us on the monorail. Lieutenant Liberty rapid teleports, and Silver Lance flies. As we pass by Sunrise City National, we notice the alarms sounding off, with police outside.
Neverdie: "Guys, let's go check it out. They may need our help." I nod, as I lower the three of us down to the ground, with Wiley pacing back and forth. Silver Lance lands soon after, with Lieutenant Liberty appearing in front of the officer.
Through talking with the officers, we learn that there's several hostages in the bank, and that there are two specials amongst the robbers. They don't know how many crooks are inside, only that it's at least 10. Two for each of us, I like those odds. Me, and Silver Lance, go through the window on the third level, and make our way to the ground floor, while Wiley, Mushroom Man, Neverdie, and Lieutenant Liberty go in through the side entrance on the ground floor. As me and Silver Lance approach the balcony that overlooks the first floor, I see the hostages clustered together in a corner, close to the vault. Coming out of the vault, are the two I assume are powered. Ones dressed in yellow/orange fishnet, and the other is wearing basic body armour, with blades sticking out of his arms.
"We should be getting out of here Springblade! I mean we got what we came here for, so why are we still here? Heroes could show up at any moment."
Springblade: "I wouldn't worry about that Grapple. I mean we outnumber any so-called hero that comes in here. As for why we are still here, there's still gold to plunder."
Grapple: "You really should update your vocabulary, as no one uses the word plunder anymore."
Springblade: "Concentrate on the job man. We'll get paid more doing this job than all the money that's even in this vault."
First priority is making sure those hostages get out okay. I could create an earth dome to protect them for the time being, since I can almost guarantee a fight will be starting soon. I look over at Silver Lance, and lift my arm up. He nods, and I create an earth shield that surrounds the hostages. I make sure there's tiny holes throughout, so they can get air. I see the 4 of my teammates that were on the ground floor move in, with the crooks opening fire on them. I act as support, mostly using my earth to provide the team with cover, or make it hard for the villains to move. Neverdie taunts them into attacking him, as he can withstand more damage than most people can. They even fire off a bazooka at him, which he just kind of shrugs off. I'm not even sure how this happens, but Grapple manages to catch Wiley inside of a net he shoots out with his hand. Unfortunately for them, Wiley vibrates through the net within seconds, and takes out a few goons. Liberty teleports from one goon to the next, even going so far as to throwing them into each other. The Beige Brigade takes out a sizable chunk of them with their ray guns, as Silver Lance fires off energy blasts at Springblade. Springblade manages to deflect the blast with his blades, which ends up hitting me right in the back. I go hurtling across the room, as I try to recover. The fight doesn't last too long, just with the sheer difference in power level alone. Grapple ends up being the last one standing, but he decides to surrender. We leave the scene through our various ways of transportation, as the police rush in. I make sure to get rid of the earth shield, before I follow my teammates. Chalk up another win for the good guys!
==The Gotham Royal Hotel==
Stairwell: Floor 13
A barbed tendril shot out from behind Jenna; pulling Gar off the railing, it caught him just as he reached the thirteenth floor and threw him at Franco's feet. The flamethrower fell out of Gar’s hand and rolled out of his reach. As he hit the ground, his forehead scraped against the concrete floor. Shocked, Jenna's eyes followed the tentacle back to the source, her mouth open, as the red tendril retracted into Ramsay Rosso's arm.
"In answer to your earlier question, Miss Duffy," Rosso spoke, tilting his head towards Franco. "That's how I healed him."
"Didn’t exactly stick the landing, did he?” Franco chuckled, kneeling beside Gar. “What’s the matter, Firefly? Did you leave your jetpack in your other suitcase? How very careless!" he remarked, clamping a hand on Gar’s chin.
In return, Gar headbutted him. Hard. Blood gushed out of Franco’s nose, and the mobster stumbled backwards, taking a moment to steady himself. "You’ve got a meta on the payroll?” Gar growled at him. “Afraid of a fair fight, you coward?"
“Not afraid, no,” Franco stated, wiping the blood off his face with a white handkerchief. “But I am practical. Why exert myself at all?”
Gar readied himself for a second lunge, eying his fallen flamethrower lying between Rosso’s legs.
"Ah-ah-ah. Think it through, Firefly. Whatever slight lover's tiff we're having is irrelevant. You kill me in cold blood and she'll never love you," Franco goaded him. “Oh, not that you could.”
As he rambled, Gar’s eyes locked with Jenna’s.
“Maybe not,” Gar replied, rising to his feet. “But if it frees her from you, then so be it.”
Franco’s smile faltered. “Shame.”
As Gar raised his fist, something peculiar happened. His arm stopped in mid-air, mere inches from Franco’s face. The rest of his body followed suit, as though he had been frozen in place. His thoughts, his feelings, were still his own, but now his body seemed to answer to an outside force.
“How-?” he gasped, struggling to push the word through his lips.
Rosso eyed the fresh wound on Gar’s forehead, smiling. “That’s a nasty cut, Mr Lynns. And one cut is all it takes.”
Franco grinned, as he nudged Gar’s arm out of the way, and struck his face with a right hook; payback for his broken nose. “What, you thought that hentai thing was the only weapon in Ramsay’s arsenal?” he tutted.
"Davey, stop it, don’t hurt him!” Jenna urged him. But try as she might, she found herself unable to intervene. Her eyes widened; her body was frozen in the same manner that Gar’s was. “Why-? Why can't I move?" she struggled.
Franco stepped away from Gar, and sauntered over to Jenna's side, running his hand through her strawberry blonde hair: "Cause, I don't want you to," he whispered, giving Rosso a nod of approval.
Rosso took a step towards Gar, his brown irises replaced with pitch black eyes. A deep sense of unease washed over Gar as the man's form shifted to that of his true self: Bloodwork. First, his slick black hair fell out; next, his clothing tore apart as his size expanded; Red muscle pushed its way through his skin and blue and black veins rose to the surface
"I can feel your blood pumping through your veins, from your head to your toes," Rosso spoke, a sick sense of pleasure taking hold of him. His throat pulsed as he taunted his paralyzed prey: “The possibilities are endless. I could burst an artery, cause a brain haemorrhage. I can create a blood clot. Give you a heart attack. Or, I could simply do this;"
And then, against Gar’s will, he brought his own right fist crashing against his mouth. His knees buckled, but he stayed upright. The next blow came from his left hand. Then his right again. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. With each punch, more blood shot out from Gar’s mouth. With each punch, his body shook but stayed standing. As the pattern repeated, Franco giggled with childlike glee, placing an overly familiar hand across Jenna’s back. And though she tried to close her eyes, save herself from the heartbreak, Rosso wouldn’t let her.
“Davey, stop him! Please, stop him!” Jenna pleaded, tears falling down her face.
But Franco didn’t care. For him, this was merely a lesson in loyalty, a way to punish Jenna for her ‘disobedience.’ "Oh, Firefly, man, why are you hitting yourself?" Franco snickered. "Why are you hitting yourself?"
"Davey, stop it! Stop it Davey! You’ve got me, let him go!” Jenna shrieked.
“I do have you, don’t I?” Franco’s smile became a bitter sneer and his grip on her back tightened.
“But I can hardly invite Ramsay on our honeymoon, can I? This, is the only way you’re gonna learn.”
At this, Rosso raised his fist and Gar involuntarily stepped forward. His movements were unnatural, haunting; his arms hung limp at his side like a ragdoll and his feet dragged along the ground. Gripping the railing, Gar was forced to clamber atop the bannister overlooking the stairwell. Rosso’s hand shook slightly and Gar’s whole body lurched forwards before regaining its precarious footing.
“Davey, for god's sake, I'll go with you, just stop it!" Jenna screamed.
Franco raised a hand, halting Rosso.
"No tricks?" his eyes narrowed.
Jenna swallowed. "No tricks."
Franco clapped his hands together in childlike delight. “Well, that’s alright, then!” he declared.
Disappointed, Rosso tossed Gar aside and relinquished his control over Jenna.
"Just keep him pinned there for now, Ramsay, then come find us at the rendezvous,” Franco ordered, grabbing Jenna by her arm. “I don't want him following us." Unnoticed by either of them, Jenna kicked Gar’s flamethrower over to his side, before departing with Franco. Though badly injured, Gar mustered all the strength he could to unscrew the fuel tank, and with his other hand, retrieved his lighter from inside his pants’ pocket. He had to fight through the control. For Drury’s blessing, for Jenna’s sacrifice to mean anything, he had to fight this. He stuck an old tissue in the bottleneck of the canister, and flicked the lighter.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Rosso chuckled. He could only see Gar’s hands fidgeting, not the weapon he was crafting. “My lifeblood is inside your veins. Your body, your will, is Bloodwork’s, to do with as I please.”
"That's the thing about blood…” Gar grimaced, and with every ounce of strength he had left, he pushed the lit projectile along the ground towards Rosso.
“It boils."
The canister exploded under Rosso’s feet; bathing his body in bright orange flames. Rosso screamed in agony as his red skin burst and popped. Finally, he stumbled over the ledge, falling thirteen stories and as he hit the ground, he popped like a balloon, erupting into a puddle of hot red goop. Gar didn't linger for too long. Whether Rosso reformed or not was unimportant, not when Jenna was still at that maniac’s mercy. Pursuing Franco, Gar swung open the door to the 13th floor corridor, ducking around corner and corner until he reached the passage entrance.
Gar and Franco locked eyes from the opposite ends of the hallway. Franco gave Gar a mocking salute, and then locked the passageway behind himself and Jenna. Gar limped towards the tunnel entrance, pounding his fists against the metal door until his knuckles bled, but it was no use. They were gone.
===The East End: Six Years Ago===
Johnny LaMonica exited the apartment building, blissfully unaware that he was being watched. A huge smile on his face, he clicked his heels and counted his stack of 20 dollar bills. ‘Another successful day out,’ he smirked as he propped up the collar of his leather jacket and ran a comb through his greasy black mane of hair. What happened next was a bit of a blur for LaMonica; a strand of red web bigger than any spider’s latched itself onto his jacket and propelled him upwards into the clutches of a purple and orange figure, dangling him off the fire escape.
“Christ! Look, pal, I got money!” LaMonica panicked, waving his wad of cash in his assailant’s face.
“Drug money.”
“What? Sure, if that’s what you’re into, maybe-”
“No.” The assailant slapped the money out of LaMonica’s hands. “Every week, you hit up this block and sell your skag. It stops tonight.”
“Look, I can’t just up and leave. People… They, uh, depend on me! It’s the False Facers, really, they give me the H! I only sell it, I swear!”
"I don’t care. The East End is off limits. Don't let me catch you dealing again. If I do, I'll drop you from a taller building."
"Taller wh-?"
The Black Spider let go, and LaMonica plummeted two stories, landing on his leg.
"You broke my leg, you psycho!" LaMonica whimpered, tilting his head to his stack of twenties. They had landed in the puddle right beside him.
==Gotham Royal Hotel: Lobby==
Drury sat in the center of the room, surrounded by broken glass and pine needles. Bruce had stripped Carson down to the black undersuit he wore beneath his armour, and handed him over to the GCPD officers stationed outside. He had not yet mentioned Drury’s involvement to them, well aware that Bullock would jump at the opportunity to cuff him personally.
Bruce bent down and offered Drury his hand. Their eyes made contact and a sense of acceptance washed over them both. ‘It was time.’ Drury bit his lip and accepted Bruce’s hand.
"Where's the suit?" Batman asked.
Drury paused. It took him a few seconds to realise that Bruce had meant his Moth costume. "It's in a car around back,” he mumbled. “Was gonna grab it when things got bad, but well, they really got bad."
Batman murmured understandingly, as he escorted him to the awaiting police barricade. A group of men in white hazmat suits were moving the two large cloudburst devices onto a S.T.A.R. Labs flatbed. Drury cast his eyes over to Sharpe and Mayo outside, reluctantly giving their statements to two young officers, and smiled. Sharpe was complaining that Krill’s belt had been confiscated before he had the chance to test it.
“By the way, I won that belt in a trial by combat. I thought you bozos cared about the law!”
Drury turned his head back to Bruce. "I’ll keep my end. Confess to Ra's' murder, to helping Bane, Slabside… And do my time for the GCPD raid. But that means you gotta let Gaige go, understand? You gotta let them all go."
Drury’s lip curled as Sharpe’s echoes of “Police State! Police State!” filled the air.
"Your father in-law is still part of a major criminal conspiracy. There will be an investigation."
"Yeah, and you'll do what you have to. I know. But if Sionis knows he was involved, in any of this-”
"He'll have my protection. And The Wayne Foundation will cover any medical bills."
"Good." Drury turned his head to look at Eric, standing beside Cass at the police convoy. "Go easy on him, alright? He did good. They all did, actually."
Bruce nodded. "The Outcasts will be moved to GCPD, until Jim can arrange for them to be transferred to Blackgate. The Misfits will be kept here for now. Once they can corroborate your story, they’ll be free to go,” he addressed Drury. “Provided, Chancer doesn’t make anyone else cry.”
Drury caught Bruce’s eye and laughed.
Bruce smiled softly in turn. "Are you sure about this?" he asked.
"Well, if it's easier, I suppose I could just fake my death," Drury smirked back.
Bruce's smile vanished instantly.
Drury rolled his eyes playfully. "Yeah, maybe some other time.”
As they approached the police barricade, Drury stopped. “Wait. My kids. Please, let me say goodbye."
Bruce nodded to him, and at Gordon, positioned at the other end of the roadblock. Drury reached into his back pocket and frowned.
"Sorry, do you have your phone on you? I sorta fell on mine."
==Wist Residence: Gotham Outskirts==
David Wist was dressed in a red flannel shirt, an elegant gold watch around his wrist. Sat on the porch swing, he was watching the sun rise on his homestead, sipping a beer. There was something particularly special about a Gotham sunrise. A reassurance that you had survived the night. A promise that things were going to be ok. Silly, Wist realised, but he did used to rob art galleries dressed like an earth wire. His momentary bliss was interrupted by voices inside the house. No stranger to home invaders, he jumped to his feet and ran inside, stopping in his tracks as he caught sight of the bizarre situation. Sighing, Wist put his hand to his forehead. "Margaret, hand it over.”
“Margaret!" he repeated sternly.
"I found it!" his wife snapped at him, holding aloft a silver prosthetic limb. Axel was chasing her around the room, wearing nothing but a white towel draped around his waist.
"You stole it," Wist stated, crossing his arms. Watching from the landing upstairs, Axel’s sister, Kitten, giggled shrilly. His older brother, Simon, covered his mouth with his hands, trying to stifle a laugh of his own, while his younger brother, Cammy, was laughing so heavily that green bubbles were blowing from his nose
"It was shiny, all shiny and chrome and new, it's mine!" Pye spat back.
"Christ sake... Give me the boy's arm!"
The prosthesis, flew through the air into Wist's awaiting hand.
"Not fair! Not fair!" his wife protested.
"You want something shiny? Here;" Wist opened his coat pocket and pulled out a single silver spoon. No sooner had he waved it in front of her face, had she ripped it from his grasp and ran out the room.
"I am... sorry about her," Wist apologised, handing Axel his arm back. "She's a lovely woman, really, and I do love her. But we do have our struggles..."
"S'not worth apologising over," Axel shrugged as he sat at the dining table and screwed his arm back into place. "I get it. Mom, Miranda, used to complain to Dad about her challenges, something about her nymphomania."
"Kleptomania," Wist said sternly, sitting opposite him.
"That," Axel blushed. "Earrings that went missing and so on. Dad, thought it was funny. Used to, I mean. Never was all that self aware, I suppose. He used to say to me, 'Son, there are two types of people in this world; the tricksters, and the ones getting tricked.'"
"Hence the Trickster, I imagine. Still, we don't all get to choose our gimmicks. Mags’ with her compulsions, that poor fella Karlo, Croc… Hell, I wanted to be a Clock Villain: I used to be a watchmaker, you see. But Slugsy and Tockman swooped in first, and well, the novelty wore off."
The landline phone rang, and Kitten thundered down the stairs, snatching the phone before Axel or Wist had a chance to stand up.
"Daddy!" Kitten squealed into the receiver excitedly.
Drury bowed his head. He had hoped it wouldn't be her. He always did struggle giving her bad news. "Carson and his associates are in GCPD custody. It's over, you can come home," he spoke, almost robotically, his mouth dry.
"Home? To Keystone? Or home home?" Kitten inquired. Her brothers had joined her at the phone, craning their necks so that they could overhear their father.
"If you want to go back to Keystone, that's fine, I'm sure Axel's friends can work something out. But I thought... I thought you would maybe like to come back to the manor?"
"I don't get it. They lifted your exile?" Simon stood up.
"They caught him," Axel stated.
Drury paused. "Uncle Chuck and Mr Reardon are gonna help Mr Wist move you back in. Wayne Enterprises is going to handle the finances and your Uncle Norbert is gonna help with any paperwork. But... you'll be living with Grandpa Gaige for a while."
"But I don't understand! Where will you be?" Kitten whined.
"Kitten... I did some bad things. I need to answer for them. Got to keep you safe. Grandpa Gaige-"
"We don't want Grandpa Gaige, we want you!" she protested, her voice becoming shriller still.
“I know, cupcake, I know.”
Drury moved the phone away from his ear and dropped his arm down by his side.
"They'll understand," Bruce stated.
“You don’t get it… Every missed birthday, every cancelled family dinner, the divorce, Miranda…” Drury wiped the tears from his eyes. "They shouldn't have to understand. They've been forced to their whole damn lives."
===Six Years Ago===
Johnny LaMonica finished recounting his story to his superior, a blond mobster dressed in a lilac suit. The mobster smirked, and took in a deep puff of an expensive cigar. "So, the East End has a guardian angel... I'll be damned..." he spoke, blowing white smoke into the dimly lit office. A confederate flag, hung from the rafters like a banner.
"You’ll be damned?” LaMonica hopped forwards, waving his crutches in the mobster’s face. “We’re all damned! He’s gotta go!”
The mobster swivelled his chair around, and turned to the bodyguard stood behind him, a man dressed in a set of purple and gold, high-tech armour. “You believe this shit?” he chuckled.
Lightning Bug crossed his arms, but said nothing.
“Boss-!” LaMonica protested.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” The blond mobster nodded insincerely, rising from the leather chair. He walked over to the other end of the room, and lifted a loose floorboard; beneath it, was several bags of pure heroin. "You come back tonight, and you take these to your guys on the street. Spread the word; From now on, you only peddle this. Least, until our pest problem is dealt with."
He threw a sample at the dealer, who fumbled as he caught it.
"You think this guy's a junkie?"
"What, you think this guy's a good Samaritan, hitting smack dealers out of the goodness of his heart? In this neighbourhood?"
LaMonica shrugged.
"He's a junkie, alright. Just traded his needle for a mask. And if he ain't, he's sure to know someone who is. That's how we nail him."
===Gotham Royal: Floor 12===
Roman Sionis exited the elevator, a scowl on his skull-like face. He did not appreciate the time he’d spent trapped in his own elevator, nor did he appreciate the irony that it had been the Red Hood who had discovered him and Li, and he certainly didn’t appreciate the Hood’s muffled snickering, as he and Li shuffled past him. Sionis held his smartphone to his ear, in mid-conversation with Warren White.
“Nah, I don’t know who this Carlton guy is,” White explained, standing outside the hotel, dressed in a navy-blue overcoat. “Some Firebug wannabe. Had some kind of beef with Walker, I overheard him screaming his name. Oh, they got Walker too, by the way. Guess the cops didn’t take too kindly to him robbing their precinct.”
"And the Bats?" Sionis asked, throwing a cautious glance in Red Hood’s direction.
“C’mon,” White chuckled. "They got nothing on you. If they had, you'd be in that van alongside Day."
"Thanks, Warren. Send the word out to the capos:"
"The Doc? Already on it. He can't hide for long, we’ll get him. Oh, hey, if you hurry, you can catch the perp walk. Hell, give me a sec and I’ll get you a photo. It's like Abbey Road over here." White snapped his fingers excitedly as the quartet of Krill, Day, Drury and Carson were directed towards the police transport by a squad of SWAT officers.
As Carson was carted away, Paul Booker's eyes narrowed. "Who the hell was that?" he rasped as Big Sir draped a comfort blanket over his shoulders.
===Ground Floor: Lobby===
Joey Rigger climbed down the grand staircase. He had woken up in the hallway alone; Gaige had vanished, Drury and Carson had taken their fight elsewhere and Gar was probably with Jenna, sitting in a tree somewhere. His head still thumping, Joey vaguely remembered a black figure shushing him. Flannegan was already there, his elbows resting on the balcony.
"That's Drury!" he gasped. "What's he doing?"
Flannegan’s nose wrinkled, his thin face lined with disgust. "He cut a deal.”
~-~
Jenna and Franco walked down the passageway, their only light source being strips of luminous tape stuck to the floor. After about a mile of walking in absolute silence, Jenna spoke up:
"You were wrong, you know," she said softly.
"What's that, Jelly Bean?" Franco asked with faux-interest.
"I do hope he kills you."
Fire-bug / Feuerwanze and Thyme / Thymian (Thymus) - Large On Black
in our garden - Frankfurt-Nordend
Firebug the tiger goes for a walk after a swim in her pool at The Center for Animal Research and Education.
The firebugs are out and about for the first time this year. Spotted this guy on the cellar door just now.
與螢共舞‧流螢幻境 [ 台北縣土城市 Tucheng City, Taipei County, Taiwan ]
Canon EOS 5D + Canon EF 50mm f/1.4 USM │ View On Black
No.4551633722
April 25, 2010
Photo by Yueh-Hua © All rights reserved
Among the unforgiving spikes of a dried thistle, two red firebugs find a moment of connection. The soft nest-like fibers contrast sharply with the harsh geometry of their world. Captured with natural backlight, this close-up reveals an unexpected tenderness in nature’s most armored places.
Shot handheld with shallow depth of field for visual isolation and contrast.
A tribute to microdrama and survival in the undergrowth.