Post by HoM on Mar 14, 2010 17:20:15 GMT -5
Secret Society of Super-Villains
Issue Ten: Big Leagues
Part Two (of Two): Gambling Woman
Written by House Of Mystery
Cover by Dody Eka & Mark Saxton
Edited by James Stubbs[/center]
New York:
Mr. Blink had been on the run for weeks now, barely staying ahead of the authorities. He didn't want to be here! He had never wanted to be here! He was dragged, kicking and screaming, into this whole situation, and Despero had refused to let him go!
<We're compatible, you and I,> he had said, as Mr. Blink's shuttle had neared Earth, <Your mind so very much open to suggestion. To my words. You shall be my herald, how does that sound, 'Mister Blink'?>
He wandered into an alley, a strange feeling creeping onto his neck. He was being followed. Had they found him? Had the Society, those who The Voice had betrayed, found him? Damn Despero, Damn this planet, and damn--
"Oh, I've been looking for you," rasped a voice from the shadows, as Blink was suddenly thrown to the ground, filth and garbage spraying a vile mix into his face. He scrambled to get out, to run into the street, but The Question dragged him unceremoniously by the foot back into the alley, and slammed him against a wall behind a dumpster. "Mr. Blink. I'd say 'eponymous' but that would be suggesting I don't know what that word means. Mister Blink. Slave. Messenger."
"I... you... I don't... what do you want?" whispered Mr. Blink frantically. Even in the midst of all those super-villains, he'd never been scared like this before. Maybe it was the fact that he'd finally been found, and not by those who might show him mercy-- but found by a man without a face, a man who spoke so fast with words that he didn't comprehend--!
"I want to know things. Questions beginning with 'why...?', you understand me? Why were you working for The Voice? Why did he want the star-maps?"
Mr. Blink's expression shifted, a smile of relief forming on his trembling lips, and then he began to laugh, quivering with an uninhibited seizure of laughter. "Y-you don't know! A-and I was s-scared! Terrified! You... know nothing! Nothing of his true nature!"
"Then you're going to tell me. Because if you don't, I'll throw you to the wolves. You're going down, Blink, hard, but I can get you off easy if you play the game. Tell me why?"
Mr. Blink slipped his hand into his stained suit-jacket, and The Question cocked a fist, ready to be unleashed. "D-don't! Want to show... want to show you something." In his hand was a small cylindrical device with a blue button and a red button. "Not... a bomb. Not... a weapon... a mask."
Mr. Blink pressed the device and his face shifted-- gone was the pale, pink flesh that suggested that he was human, instead, purple scales began to spread where pasty skin had been and a large fin covered his head, arching from behind his ears over the top of his skull. "I am Bliik, citizen of Kalanor, servant of the Warrior-King, Despero. He who is entombed beneath the sands of Thanagar, waiting to be rescued. He used his immense telepathic abilities to ensnare me, when I would have s-served him willingly! I came to Earth, and through the amplification of the Gamma Gong, he was able to speak into the minds of the villains he recruited!"
The Question leaned back, aghast. "Despero. Holy Hell."
Bliik grinned, sharp teeth barred. "You know of him! You know of his mightiness!"
"I know we took him down once, and we could take him down again," snapped The Question, regaining his composure. "Keep talking."
"He could not escape by himself, so he needed agents. He planned to use the metal man, John Corben, to free him, but I do not know what happened... I escaped while chaos reigned beneath the world."
"The Boom Tube projector was damaged, you couldn't use it without having coordinates, that's why you raided STAR for the charts. You needed directions... but you failed... miserably. We're not under the thrall of Despero. We're not dead or dying. So what's the point?"
"The p-point?" stammered Bliik, "the point... could be... that a conspiracy ran under your world, a membrane beneath the skin, and no one knew until it was too late. This world could have fallen, and you were ch-chasing your tails!"
"Enough," snapped The Question as he punched Bliik in the face. The alien crumpled unconscious to the concrete, its face already starting to swell. "To prison with you."
"I could have put him to sleep quite easily, Question. No need for such violence."
Question looked over to the shadows, and watched as the Martian Manhunter appeared from nowhere. "Sorry. It slipped. He telling the truth?"
"Yes and no. His bravado is false, you knew that already. But he doesn't know what happened with Despero. He had his mind slowly changed by the monster, but, when his influence shifted, Bliik was able to exert his own control and escape. Despero. H'ronmeer! The League nearly failed in taking him down in the first place-- if it wasn't for the Nth metal mine on Thanagar! If he is free..."
"I think we'd know," said The Question. "This helps. Got a lot of new information, punched an alien in the face, not a bad day all things considered. Do you mind taking Bliik to holding? Maybe you could help rehabilitate him, clear his mind?"
"Perhaps," said J'onn, "but perhaps Despero's corrupting influence runs too deep. We shall see."
The Question strolled out of the alley, binary gas clinging to his clothes as it was released through his belt buckle. He rolled his mask into a ball and placed it in it's hidden compartment, and walked the streets as Charles Szasz. Lots of questions remained. Sure, he had answers, but they were nothing when you didn't have the right questions to ask. Where were the Society now? Metallo? Deathstroke? Catman or any of the others? There had been sightings, Society activity under Batman's nose in Gotham. He'd have to check in with Bruce, see what was happening over there. But what about the Alcatraz guard who vanished under their noses? The man who burned his hand-print into Mindeater? Questions remained...
Meanwhile...
Thomas Blake had wanted a vacation for months now. He had been at the beck and call of Deathstroke, therefore of The Voice, Despero, whoever, and then Lex Luthor had ascended to the position of power, so he was his muscle now as well. He didn't mind. The continuous ticking away of hundreds of thousands of dollars finding their way into his bank account meant he was well compensated for the bruises that found themselves on his knuckles, and for the blood stains he had to get out of his cape.
"Thooooomas?" purred the woman laying beside him, the bed sheet laying lightly over her body leaving nothing at all to the imagination.
"Hey," he said, leaning over to her and pulling the sheet clean away from her body. "How you feeling?"
"Worn out," replied the woman, shivering as the cold air touched her naked flesh. She stretched her arms up and pulled his head close to hers. They kissed long and passionately, and she released him, his large hand finding her hips and drawing her close to him. "But raring..."
"Good to--" Catman's head swung around, and he was well aware of his nakedness as the windows leading into the apartment he'd been staying in smashed open. Masked men with rifles dropped in and opened fire. He shoved his newest lover over the side of the bed and rolled away from the needle darts as they hurtled toward his bare body, peppering only sweaty linens-- and grabbed a bedside bowie knife. He was about to charge at the intruders when something hit him in the base of the spine, and he howled in pain. He spun to see that, instead of coming through the windows, some intruders had simply used the front door and blindsided him. He stormed toward the man who had shot him, brought up his knife, but then felt more and more of the darts ravage his body. He screamed in defiance, dragging his knife down through armor-- only to hit thin air. "Whahhhuuuhhh?" He drawled, hitting the floor and feeling his consciousness drift away in a fit of spasms.
His lover, sheet held tight to her chest, stepped toward him, smiling as the intruders vanished. She brandished a rifle, and, as his vision began to shift in and out of focus, she was suddenly fully dressed, wearing some kind of clown costume. "Sorry, Blake. This is just a test."
"Gnnnnaaargh!" Catman jerked awake, and found himself fully dressed in his costume, in a dank cell somewhere. He clenched his fist, and felt the blood rush to his extremities. He had been drugged. Dressed. Dragged here. Why? He stood, and gripped the bars on his cell door tightly. "Hello?"
"Yer awake then, kid?" Catman peered out from the small barred window he was holding, and saw another cell opposite his. He couldn't see inside, but he heard the occupant speak none the less. "S'been a whiles since they brought you in."
"Who is that?" he asked.
A masked face filled the small window, and grinned. "Y'might have heard of me. The name's Wildcat. An' you?"
"...Catman," was his response. He didn't care if he alienated the only other person within earshot-- especially if it was some geriatric vigilante from the 40s. Justice Society his ass...
"Never heard of ya, sorry t'say," said Ted Grant as he vanished from sight. "But sounds like whoever dragged us here has got some kind o' weird feline fetish. Reminds me of the good ol' days, don't cha think?"
Blake smiled as he began to examine his cell. Now that was some luck he could sing and dance about. He'd been kidnapped and his dungeon mate--a freakin' JSAer-- didn't even know who he was. "Sounds like, Wildcat."
"Yer a cape, right? Very Caped Crusader-kitsch if I may say so myself. Where you operate out of?"
"Nowhere yet, just starting out in the business," said Blake slowly. He didn't know how far he could stretch this lie. He heard Wildcat grunt. "I didn't expect to wake up here when I blacked out last."
"Ha!" laughed Wildcat. "How'd they get you? I wuz drinking in my usual watering hole. Got raided by some weird stormtrooper rejects, but I couldn't connect any punches with 'em. Got tranq'd up real nice, and then the bartender just laughed her cute little behind off as she melted away into some other broad I've never met before. Wuz thinking it was some kinda revenge kick, but if I ain't ever met the woman, how am I supposed to know?"
"I guess. Mine was kinda the same. I can't think. Don't know what's real now. Those guys who attacked me... they didn't have a scent. And thinking about it, neither did the piece of tail I ended up in bed with. £$%^."
Wildcat knocked on the door, testing it's strength. "Illusion caster, sounds like."
"Yeah, I guess so. What's the deal then?"
"I don't know, I--"
There was a sound outside both their cells as a heavy door swung open with a groan. There was a rush of activity, and then the click-clack of heels began to echo down as someone approached. "Ah, my beautiful men," said a voice, soft like satin, "You're all awake now, how wonderful."
Catman didn't recognize the woman, but something in Wildcat's eyes told him that he might. She was dressed like a circus ringmaster, perhaps? A long purple coat and tails covered her upper body, whilst her lower body was all fishnets and thigh high boots. Oh, to have woken up next to her last night... "What do you want?" he finally snapped. "What's going on?"
"Oh, you're playing for high stakes, Catman... as are you, Wildcat." She leaned over to his cell door, and giggled. "I have to admit, Mr. Grant, I'm a fan."
"You're The Gambler, int ya?" said Wildcat, barely fazed. "Gotta say, yer much cuter than your grandpappy. What say you let me and m'boy Catman over there go, and we won't bust outta here and break some heads? That would probably include yours, sweetheart."
The Gambler grinned and let out a laugh that Thomas felt in his tights. "Where's the fun in that? No, I got a game in mind that would suit both your strengths. It's been brought to my attention that you're both brawlers. And what better game to play than some kind of rock 'em sock 'em brawn-versus-brawn match up?"
"You want me and Wildcat to fight for your pleasure?" Catman asked. The idea didn't faze him too much. He'd kill a man right now to get out of this cage. He didn't like being cooped up. And killing Wildcat there wasn't the worst thing that could happen.
"Ain't gonna' happen," said Wildcat.
How do you know, old man? thought Blake. Speak for yourself...
The Gambler tutted, and shook her head in mock disappointment. "Oh, no, no, I wouldn't pit two such charming men as yourselves against each other. No, no, we got some fighters of our own that want to have a go at you boys."
"Hear that, Catman?" shouted Wildcat. "Sounds like yer about to have yer first real team-up."
"Woo," whispered Catman.
"Get ready, boys. You'll be fighting in a few minutes. Hope you're warmed up," said The Gambler, click-clacking her way out of the dungeon that they were inside.
The heavy door swung shut, and Wildcat and Catman were left alone again. "How's that sound then, kid? You up for this?"
"Break a few heads, get out of jail free card? What do you think?" Catman said.
"I like you already," said Wildcat.
The wall behind Catman's cell shifted open. "...What?"
"Did yer wall just open up?" asked Wildcat.
"Looks like."
"Mine too. This is probably how they're gonna' get us to where they want us to be." Wildcat said.
"Huh. I'm sure they've got some kind of--" A thick, purplish gas began to fill the room. It didn't flow out into the passage though. "--I was going to say they've probably got a deterrent from keeping us staying in here and not fighting. See you on the other side, Wildcat."
"Sure thing, kid," coughed Wildcat in response.
Catman traced his fingers against the cold stone walls that lead toward a bright light. This place was real. It had a scent. He could smell blood and bone, sweat and waste. People had died here, in agony. He could tell that much. He looked at the walls as he went, and saw fingernail-sized gouges dug into the stone. "Ouch."
"...Aaaaand introducing, the newcomers to the ring--! To your left, a legend of boxing, a man with the meanest left hook you'll ever meet, the one, the only-- Wildcat!" The crowd roared, and Catman saw Wildcat warily enter the arena. "And on your right, the scariest man to ever dress up in yellow and brown tights, a man who we've all been in our right minds to be afraid of, the terrifyingly tasty... Catman!" Blake recognized the voice to be The Gamblers. Wildcat jogged over to Catman, and grinned.
"'Least she gave us a hell of an intro, y'know what I'm saying?"
"True," nodded Catman. He'd never seen Wildcat up close before. He expected him to be held together with masking tape or something, but the man filled out his costume well, bulging muscles and the frame of a pugilist in his prime. This man could be a force to be reckoned with, well and truly. "Who we fighting?"
"And the reigning champions--!" A cheer went out across the arena, and Catman's eyes finally focused on the faces behind the blinding lights that beamed down on them. They were rich men and women, champagne glasses held daintily with as few fingers as they could manage, caviar being eaten by the handful. The bourgeois. The rich. The spoiled. Had they paid to watch this? Sickening. Smart, he had to admit, but sickening. "--He may not say much but he's a force to be reckoned with! He nearly killed the Mayor of Gotham City, and he's killed countless capes between here, there and everywhere, the masked murderer himself-- Onomatopoeia!" A man garbed in black, his coat flapping around him, stepped out of one of the other entries into the arena. "And his teammate for this occasion, the most deadliest man to grace our hallowed halls... don't look him in the eye, he'll kill you for nothing, the master assassin and human weapon-- Zeiss!"
Onomatopoeia cracked his knuckles and Catman could see his mask shift as he smiled. "Crkkt."
"Who you wanting?" whispered Wildcat. "I'll break anyone's face given the option, but I might as well ask who you're liking the look of."
"Zeiss," said Catman. "We've got history."
"Archenemy? Who am I to get in between a grudge?" Wildcat grinned wolfishly, and kept himself moving, warming his muscles up for the fight. "Go get 'em."
"The bets have been placed, the bell is about to begin. I've got nothing left to say now but let's fight!"
A loud bell rang out throughout the stands, and Zeiss and Ono made their move. Catman snarled and hurtled toward his opponent, whilst Wildcat waited for his to come to him.
Zeiss was flung backwards as Catman connected, and Blake slammed a fist toward his face, only to miss and geyser sand. "You're going to have to do much better than that," said Zeiss simply. He threw up a palm into Blake's throat, and caused the villain to gasp in pain. "I could murder you right here, but where's the fun?"
"Where's... the fun?" Catman punched one way, but swung around at the last moment, moving into Zeiss' dodge. "You're Society, you damn bastard, what're you doing here? There are rules in place--!"
"I'm freelancing," grunted Zeiss, as he kicked up, catching Blake between the legs. "So sue me."
"I'm sure there's a clause that says I could--" grunted Catman, trying to ignore the pain,going low and sweeping Zeiss' legs out from under him. "But I'll just take my own pound of flesh, you sonofabitch!"
Wildcat was faring much better than Catman. Without his weapons, Onomatopoeia wasn't as effective a fighter. Sure, he could throw a punch, but Wildcat could throw three in the time Ono took to swing, and he was barely standing in the time it took Catman to get kicked in the crotch. "Come on, punk, say something! Say something witty!" Wildcat pranced around Ono, who swayed awkwardly, and then tapped him on the shoulder, drawing his full attention to-- his right fist, as it flattened him straight out across the floor.
Catman, meanwhile, was getting angry. He was fighting the urge to turn the switch on in his brain that would make him go red, make him go feral and fast, claw and tear at Zeiss until he was a bloody pulp lying splayed across the floor. He fought it hard. "You betrayed me," he snarled, parrying blows left and right. "You... are a traitor..."
"You don't even know what's going on," said Zeiss, grinning. "And you can barely stand."
"£$%^ you," snapped Catman, bulling through Zeiss' defenses and punching the assassin straight in the nose, causing blood to spray out from his nostrils. "You're going down."
"Hehff," spat Zeiss, but Catman was on him now, punching him in the sides, slamming his head into the dirt until Zeiss was a broken mess. Catman was about to push the man's nose straight into his brain when Wildcat grabbed him by the shoulder.
"That's enough. He's done."
"Done? Enough? £$%^ that, he crossed me, I cross him, I put him down for good," said Blake, raising his bloody hands to Wildcat. "You don't know me, and I don't give a rat's ass about you, so you think twice about--"
Wildcat knocked Catman out with one punch. "Adrenaline. Who woulda thought?"
Washington:
The Parasite seeped into the White House. He was a sentient gas thanks to the power he stole from Metamorpho, and because of his evolution, he held that power tight and didn't let it go. He drifted through the hallowed halls, invisible to everyone, and with the photographic memory he stole from a scientist he bumped into in New York, he memorized every single twist and turn. Finally, he found the Oval Office. He slid in underneath the seal of the door, and watched President Jeb Stuart go about his day. Soon, he thought-- and, if he had lips to lick, he would have-- everything you have will be mine.
"Be seeing you," he whispered.
Stuart looked up from the paperwork he was working on, suddenly alert. "What was that?"
Meanwhile:
"Gnnnnaaargh!" Catman jerked awake, and found himself fully dressed in his costume, in a dank cell somewhere once again. He clenched his fist, and felt the familiar blood rush to his extremities. He looked around, and saw Wildcat leaning against a wall, waiting for him to wake up. His head hurt like nobody's business. "Wh... what happened?"
"I've seen it happen before, kid. You went red. Would've killed that Zeiss character if I didn't stop ya. Sorry if you were wanting it, but I ain't gonna' see that happen on my watch." Catman watched Wildcat as he pushed off the wall, and began to pace the cell. "I ain't the best when it comes to this kinda thing. This kinda thing being, eh, 'pep talks', or whatever. But you gotta learn how to control that rage else you're gonna go down a dark path. I've seen it happen before, an' I don't wanna see it happen again if I knows it's happening."
"Yeah?" Catman pulled off his mask and ran a hand through his hair. "Huh."
"You're a bit trusting to take yer mask off in here, ain't ya kid?"
"I don't care, to be honest," said Catman. "People who know me, know me. All's fair. I'm Tom." He put out his hand, and Wildcat took it.
"Ted."
Thomas grinned. "Good to know. You hit me, didn't you?"
Ted shrugged. "You were gonna to kill him, Tom. Ain't no two ways."
"Fine. S'fine." Catman finally stood up, and then looked out the door. "Gambler come back yet?"
"Nah. I was lead back at gunpoint. Didn't see any point in wasting one of my nine lives in a fight I couldn't win, y'know? Been waiting for you to wake up. It's been an hour."
"Nice right," said Catman, a laugh trailing hesitantly off from his words. He looked at the door, and then back to Wildcat. "I can't control it. Not normally. The rage it, it builds up. And I can't stop myself going... 'red', right? And I hack and I slash and I'm losing control. It's been happening more and more and I don't know what to do. Jesus, I can't believe I'm telling you this."
Wildcat simply shrugged, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You need to get a grip then. You've got fire in you, that's plain to see, but that can simply engulf you, leave nuthin' behind but bone n' ash. You need to control it, pull back, or there won't be any going back when time comes. Hell, I'll help ya if we get out of this place alive. While I don't mind beating people up who deserve it, I ain't in any mood to be a star attraction in some sick broad's game, if you get my thinkin'. There's a place for you in the All-Stars if you want to when the time comes a-knockin'. You will have to say I am your inspiration and hero though. That's pretty much a given." He laughed, and shook his head. "But don't worry, I won't tell any honeys, alright?" Wildcat said, patting him on the back. "Now, what we gonna do about this whole situation?"
"I did have a thought." Catman nodded, and then turned to the door. "That's damn heavy. And we can't break through it by our lonesomes, so I'm thinking--"
The two of them barreled through the door as they blew it off it's hinges. They hit the ground hard but sprang up, ready for anything. "Good shoulder, kid," said Wildcat, rubbing his own. "Any clue where we are?"
"None," said Catman, "there's one way to find out." The two men ran through the heavy door that The Gambler had walked through, and into a darkened chamber.
A light suddenly came on-- and someone began to speak. "Hello, Thomas," said the woman who Catman had bedded the night before. She grinned, and moved her fingers in mid-air-- only to vanish and transform into the gaudy form of the Harlequin. "I'd like to say our night together was wonderful, but I'm afraid it was all in your head." She tapped her goggles. "I hypnotized you. Staged an elaborate holographic illusion."
"What? Why? Who the hell are you?" snapped Catman, ready for battle.
Another spotlight snapped on, revealing The Gambler. "It was Lex's idea."
Wildcat bristled. "Luthor? What's that punk got to do with this?"
The Gambler grinned. "It doesn't concern you, Teddy. He was concerned about lil' ol' Thomas over there. We've been jerking you around every-which-way. We thought you might be getting jumpy, might be considering defecting to Injustice, Unlimited, or maybe ratting us out. We wanted to test your loyalty."
"Look honey," said Catman, pointing at The Gambler, "I wouldn't have minded sitting down and having a little chat with you any day of the week, I mean come on, seriously. But you locked me in a cell with Wildcat? To what end?"
"Loyalty," said Harlequin again. "I love these kind of scenarios. Testing your mettle, you follow? Luthor spoke very highly of you, Catman. We all had to be sure of your caliber. Yum."
"I don't follow," said Catman, stalking the perimeter of the room. "Who's in charge now? Who's footing the bill?"
"We are," said Bane, as the room became fully illuminated. "You showed all the qualities Luthor told us you would. You fought for the Society, even under the strangest of circumstances."
"You pay my wage," said Catman, "loyalty comes with that."
"You're with them?" said Wildcat, fully aware of his predicament. "I really do need to keep up with the Rogues nowadays."
"Shut up, old man," said Catman. He turned his attention back to the cabal. "So, you're the bosses?"
"Is that a problem, Thomas?" asked Scandal Savage.
"Hell, no," said Catman, a smile forming on his lips. "Like I said, if you're footing the bill, you're paying for my loyalty. Luthor knew that, and so did The Voice... until his untimely demise. If you're paying my wage, then you're the bosses."
"One last task then," said General Immortus. "Kill Wildcat."
Catman turned to Wildcat, but the JSAer gave nothing away.
New York:
"How do you feel?" Rex Mason looked down from where he was laying to where The Question stood. "I was in the city. Thought I'd come say hello."
"I felt human. Which was a first for a long time," replied Mason, looked at his hands, lumpy and gold-plated. "Every bump, every scar, every cut I had when I was exposed to the Orb of Ra... fully restored to me. My body was my own again, for an hour."
"And it didn't stick."
"Hey, the Parasite's never kept powers before, has he?"
The Question arched an eyebrow. "Not before, no."
Rex shrugged. "So yeah, I'm back to my horrifically scared self. Felt good... weird... to breathe like a human being again. You forget the little things when your body is an elemental maelstrom."
"I'm sorry," said The Question. "When they bought you in, you had a mark on your face?"
"A handprint, yes. Where The Parasite sapped my powers out. Why?"
The Question settled into the seat next to Rex Mason's bed, and took out his notebook. "I think The Parasite is going cross country. I think he's killing anybody that takes his fancy. The M.O. of his attack on you matches one he committed a day later in San Francisco. He's moving fast, and I don't know how. I've got capes on high alert."
"What did he do in San Fran?" asked Rex.
"He stole the powers of Mindeater out from under J'onn and myself. He stood there with a stolen face and mocked us."
"'Be seeing you'?" Rex said, slowly.
"Excuse me?" said The Question, surprised. "How did you know?"
"He said the same to me. He's getting smarter. After the incident, did you know how hard it was for me to recollect things? Bring memories to the forefront? I think he's planning something, with what you're saying."
"He's stealing the powers of a psychic. Maybe he's adapting his own powers... with Mindeater's powers... maybe he could keep whole identities in that brain of his? He's been known to shape change... gah, so many questions, not enough answers!" snapped The Question irritably. "This case was a conspiracy from the get-go, you get me? I was following The Society, this damn secret society of super villains, and I get led from one point to another! And now The Parasite is running around, posing as whoever, doing whatever?"
"Ask yourself, Question," said Rex, as he saw Sapphire Stagg standing outside his room, "if you were The Parasite, and you could become anyone, who would you be?"
"Oh, my God," whispered The Question. "I have to get to Washington."
Santa Prisca:
"No," said Catman, finally. "I'm not going to kill him."
"Oh?" said Talia al Ghul, a smile forming on her lips, a feeling of relief washing through her.
"What's the point?" Catman slowly pawed his way round Grant. "We snatched you from New York. We could kill you, and no one would ever find your body. You're the walking dead, Wildcat."
"I'm trembling in my boots," spat Wildcat. "What? You think I'm gonna stand here n' be grateful? Screw you!"
Catman smiled, and leaned in close. "Thank you. I'll repay you some day. I promise you that." He cleared his throat, and then felt his smile widen. "Shut up and take your medicine, old man." He then punched Wildcat hard in the gut, followed by an elbow to the back of the head.
"Stupid kid," spat Ted, staggered but not done. He moved to the side, hoping to catch Catman unawares, but Blake went in another direction, throwing a punch that Wildcat dodged with apparent ease. "You're gettin' better, already. Quick learner."
"I'm the best," replied Catman, as Grant threw a punch that snapped Blake's rib. "Uhhk."
"Yeah, you look it--" Before he could pull his fist away Thomas caught it between his elbow and side, and slammed his elbow into Ted's face once, twice, three times. "Nnuuu--." Finally, Wildcat hit the floor hard, sprawled on the cold concrete, unconscious. "The audience were holograms right, but where are we?" Catman sniffed the air. "Smells like death."
Immortus pressed a button on the table he was sat behind. "Warp, we have need of you."
A door appeared from nowhere, and Warp stepped through it. "Oui?"
Immortus pointed to Ted Grant. "Take that young buck and dump him in the Hudson River, please."
"What?" snapped Catman.
"We're villains, Blake! Please remember that. Besides, he'll be fine, he's a 'trooper'" said Immortus, rolling his eyes. Catman watched as Warp vanished with Wildcat, and then turned back to the inner circle of the Society.
"Well? Where are we?"
Bane stepped forward. "We're beneath Peña Duro, the prison I was born and raised within. Countless men and women died here. We thought it appropriate for your final gauntlet."
"I have to say, if every time you higher-ups decide to quit I have to run one of these, I'm gonna' quit here and now," fumed Blake. "It's starting to take the £$%^."
"That sounds fair," said Scandal Savage, approaching Catman. "We're sorry about the deception. But you have our trust, Catman. You are a valued member of the Society."
"Why, thank you," said Catman, looking Scandal up and down. "And who might you be?"
"Scandal Savage," she replied, and then she began to motion around the room. "Bane you've met. Talia al Ghul, Doctor Malthus, General Immortus, Harlequin, The Gambler, and myself." She settled upon herself, her hand placed upon her bosom. "We are the inner circle of the Society. And we have plans for this world."
"Ain't that always the way?" replied Catman. "I still need my vacation time, guys."
"We're sure," said Talia, "but we have need of you. You're to travel to Washington. Something demands your attention."
Catman exhaled heavily, and nodded. "When doesn't it?"