fics I read

The Joker.

There he was, in all his brilliant, insane glory. The Joker. The man who tried time and time again to break the Batman. The man who kidnapped and tortured Police Commissioner James Gordon, shot crippled, and presumably assaulted Barbara Gordon. The one who killed Jason Todd. The Joker – the personification of anarchy and insanity, so great was his insanity that he once possessed the Spectre – the Spirit of Vengeance – and took the powers of the being because his madness was just that uncontrollable.

Seeing his picture being presented on the News Screen rapidly reminded me of where exactly I was. There was a general silence in the coffee shop – a thick, permeating tension that travelled from everyone, both young and old, the very second their gazes landed on the man with green hair.

So… the Joker was feared. That was understandable. The problem now, was that I was yet to account for him in my calculations. Going out of my way to hunt him down and kill him would be… ironic. Hypocritical even. Why would I kill him? For the sake of it? Or because he'd killed a lot of people that I didn't know and could care less about? Because he's a maniac?

No. None of these were the correct reasons. There was only one reason:

Because he's the Joker.

The Joker was random, unpredictable – just like the nature of the card in a game, it was essentially a wildcard that could completely render most plans null and void. My plans for this City could not co-exist with the Joker in tow. They were mutually exclusive.

The only problem I could see with that plan was the fact that it would reveal to the world once more that 'The Consultant' was still alive. Unless, of course – I did not kill him personally. Yes… that seemed to be the best line of action for now. I would need to immediately speed up my current plans –

"All of Arkham's inmates broke out?" I heard one of the waitresses ask, her voice a silent, shaky whisper.

"That's what they're saying…" another responded with a grimace "…and so soon after the Disheartening? What's happening to this city…?"

"Where's the Batman? We need the Batman – if we don't have him –"

I grunted. Yes, it would be bad. The police force was weaker than ever - and they were never able to fully restrain Gotham's villains when they were at their best. Now? They'd be run over effortlessly. Gotham City was essentially now a large open sandbox for anyone to do as they wished. The military would be rolling into town soon – but it would be too late to make a difference, and even then, the Military was ill-equipped to handle the Joker.

Everyone was ill-equipped to handle the Joker.

I held Gotham's Clown Prince of Crime to a higher standard and threat than I did the Batman. The Joker's intellect rivaled Batman's effortlessly, his ability to create inventions, bombs and numerous lethal contraptions put him another step higher, but it was his absolute disregard for any sort of life whatsoever that made him infinitely more dangerous.

The longer I let him live, the longer I gave him preparation time – and one does not give the Joker preparation time and expect it to end well.

"Get back home and do whatever you can to stay safe," I told Evelyn.

"Wait – what? Where are you going?"

"To a friend's place. I want to make sure he's okay." I said briefly. "I'll be back in no time."

I didn't say anything else as I rushed out of the coffee shop. I targeted the most isolated location on my minimap, and I sprinted towards it as fast as I could. The wind rushing in my face, the beating in my chest, all of it, the pumping adrenaline, it made me smile.

It made me laugh.

The Joker.

I didn't know why I was laughing, I just was. The thought of meeting the Joker – of being the one to kill the Joker – it sent tiny bolts of electricity arching throughout my body. It made me feel as though my every step was being propelled by solid clouds. It made my blood rush – it made it pump in a manner that I did not think was possible.

I was excited.

I had always been enamored by the Joker. I wasn't even sure why – it was merely another one of those things completely obscured by my past. A man, pushed beyond the brink of sanity, propelled forward by 'one bad day' and then becoming a sociopathic persona capable of being the arch-nemesis of the Batman. Batman was cold and brooding and honestly, a rather boring character with his white-knight ideals… but the Joker – the Joker was a person whose motives defied all possible categorizations. The Joker could be good, he could be evil, he could be both and he could be neither – depending on his mood and what suited him. He wasn't motivated by money or fame or greed – his motivations were all about teaching a lesson. Proving the darkness that was inside people –

He was… simply brilliant.

Plot Progression!

The Evil Overlord's List – Part I

Some of the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. In this case, an unseen circumstance has enabled the Batman's Rogues' Gallery to be freed from Arkham Asylum, and to wreak chaos on Gotham. It is up to you to put them in their place and continue your plans for the domination of the city.

Sub-Objectives:

Kill, imprison, recruit or incapacitate every escaped convict.

Note: Choosing to Kill every convict will render the Main Objective 'Item Five: Reform the Villains of Gotham' invalid.

Special Objective:

Recruit or Eliminate the Joker

I stopped cold.

Recruit?

Could I even do that? To befriend the Joker – to court the Prince of Chaos – to have the Joker on my side? With my powers… yes. But that was assuming the Joker was not chaotic enough for any change I make to his soul to be superficial at best…

…Was I overestimating the Joker's actual threat level?

I greatly underestimated Superman and the Justice League and I paid the price for it, but… the Joker was just a mere human. An impressive human, but a human nonetheless. Nezumi had been a demonic being from hell, and it had been effortless for me to re-write his personality. Who was the Joker to be able to resist what an actual demonic king could not?

I reached a secluded spot in a back alley, checking my mini-map to confirm that there was no one watching me, before I gestured my hand forward.

"ID – Home."

A portal appeared in front of me, and I wasted no time in jumping through. The travel was instantaneous, and I found myself once more standing in a long ornate hallway. I trekked down the hallways, only to pause when I noticed a black-haired woman in a French Maid outfit dusting a portrait.

"What in the – who are you?" I turned my gaze to the top of her head, and I rose an eyebrow when I saw it.

Female Homunculus

Level 60

The woman turned to me, her eyes immediately going wide, before she knelt and took a long, formal bow. The extremely formal version, as if she were a Japanese person begging for forgiveness.

"It is my honor to meet you, Overlord Master."

She spoke in a voice that was nigh-emotionless, a simple sounding monotone that would not have been out of place on a robot.

"I am Female Homunculi No. 98, out of the Aphrodite Squadron of one-hundred female homunculi created by the Commander." She continued monotonously. "I am designed, according to the Commander's words, to 'look aesthetically pleasing to the Master, whilst ensuring the cleanliness and appeal of the yet-unnamed fort.'"

"The… Commander?"

"It is what we Homunculi call our creator, Commander Nezumi." She replied immediately. "We are also informed that you, Overlord Master are our creator's creator, hence, any instructions given by you supersede that of the Commander. If you do not wish for me to call Commander Nezumi 'commander' I will desist from doing so."

I was of mixed feelings on the homunculi's dedication, but I knew Nezumi. There was no way he would do anything that he believed superseded my own authority.

"No – it's not a problem."

She nodded. "As you command Overlord Master. I was also instructed by the Commander to 'cater to your every desire and whim' and I am to inform you that I possess anatomically accurate functioning female sexual organs. I however do not possess the capacity for reproduction or fertilization, hence, you may use me in any way you desire."

She said this while gesturing to her breasts and body, which, I could not deny, was nearly flawless. Would having sex with a homunculi count as the use of a sex toy, or a sex robot? I shook my head at the thought.

"Perhaps later," I responded dryly. "And… what exactly can you do… aside from casually offering sex and looking pretty?" I paused. "Actually – I've only been gone for about a day – so tell me all about the Homunculi and what Nezumi has done so far."

She immediately snapped to attention. Her legs were spread at ease and her arm went behind her back in what was easily a textbook military stance.

"I am Female Homunculi No. 98 of the Aphrodite Squadron, Alpha Division of the Overlord's Army. The Alpha Division currently consists of 500 homunculi, however, the Commander indicates that his goal for a single Division is to entail between 10,000 and 20,000 homunculi."

That was… a lot of homunculi. I liked it.

"The current Alpha Division is separated into Squadrons consisting of 100 members each. The Squadrons are further divided into Platoons of 15-30 homunculi each. These Platoons are divided one final time into Sections of 5-10 homunculi." She clarified.

"That's very organized."

"Commander Nezumi believes an organized military structure would be necessary for the Alpha Division, considering future plans and considerations to appear as a paramilitary group."

I nodded. "Proceed."

"Each individual Homunculus possess Olympic-Athlete level Endurance, Speed, Durability and Strength." To prove her point, she performed a perfect split in one maneuver, and was back to standing in another. "In addition, every Homunculi possesses high-level contortionism skills and significantly greater-than-normal flexibility. We have a massively increased pain-tolerance level, perfect eyesight and hearing, and a nose to match."

"Impressive." I said. "Go on."

"In addition, every homunculus of the Alpha Division possesses exceptional mastery in utilizing firearms of all capabilities and sorts. Assault rifles, pistols, shotguns, semi-automatic weapons, automatic weapons, sniper rifles, and even going further to possess mastery in explosive weapons, grenades and rocket launchers." She clarified. "99.8% is the current accuracy percentage. That is, we will hit our targets, moving or stationary, with any weapon, over reasonable distances, 99.8% of the time. Commander Nezumi said this was on your instructions, in order to prevent a rare disease called 'Stormtrooper Syndrome'".

My lips twitched.

"The Alpha Division also possesses significant mastery and knowledge in various martial art forms. Jujitsu, Kickboxing, Taekwondo, Judo, Karate and Wrestling. Our knowledge of armed combat consists of knife-fighting, and utilizing staffs and utilizing swords. This, alongside a strict military approach and training, is what makes Commander Nezumi refer to Alpha Division as 'Legion'."

I nodded. "Interesting name. Is there anything else?"

"The Commander has granted the Alpha Division a special ability to enable maximum infiltration." As she said this, I watched her hair change color from black, to blonde, and then to red-headed. Her shape and facial structure likewise followed suit, her body going from lithe, to small and thin, her breasts and hips shrinking to smaller sizes.

What stood before me was now a teenage red-headed girl with small breasts and looking a bit on the thin side.

"Our voice can also match the changes." She spoke with a new, perky, upbeat voice that I felt like strangling out of her. "This, in addition to some access to the Overlord Master's soul magic – the Alpha Division can assume the life of anyone, down to the minutest of details, from nervous verbal tics to subconscious habits."

I could feel myself getting excited. "Anyone?"

"Yes, Overlord Master. As long as their soul profile is recorded within us – we can become, anyone."

With a bit of transformation once more, I was now staring at a perfect replica of Barbara Gordon – wearing a maid outfit. Needless to say, I could feel myself getting aroused. Except… I could tell it wasn't actually her. The stance, the facial expression, the way she carried herself – this was just a physical copy.

"So, if you gained Barbara Gordon's soul profile, you can essentially become her, as opposed to just looking like her?"

She nodded. "That is affirmative, Overlord Master."

I could feel my grin widening by the second. "And all of you can do this?"

Another nod.

"We, Overlord Master – are legion."

Quest Progression!

The Evil Overlord's List – Part I

Objective Completed!

Item Two: Create an Army of Homunculi

Congratulations! You have unlocked the [Military] Panel! You can now supervise your budding army, promote officials, and assign missions!

New features again. New features I kept discovering about that I never even knew my ability possessed. One of these days, I needed to sit down and explore my Gamer powers to its full extent, and possibly try to understand where it came from in the first place.

Military Panel

Overlord's Army – Rank 1 [19.02%]

Hierarchy:

[Locked] – [Locked] – [Locked] – Divisions – [Locked] – Squadrons – Platoons – Sections

Divisions Available:

[Alpha Division]

[Locked]

[Locked]

[Locked]

[Locked]

Alpha Division [1]:

The Alpha Division currently consists of 500 homunculi. This is the starting number, with the expected number to be 10,000 to 20,000. Each Division has its own Squadrons, Platoons and Sections. The Alpha Division is also known as 'The Legion' by Nezumi.

(1.1)Squadrons:

Aphrodite Squadron – This consists of all 100 female homunculi currently created.

Al'Tair Squadron – Consists of 100 male homunculi infiltrators

Hawkeye Squadron – Consists of 100 male homunculi sharpshooters

Jenkins Squadron – Consists of 100 male homunculi infantry/fighter troops

Unassigned Squadron – Consists of 100 currently unassigned male homunculi

I stared at the organizational structure, more particularly, on the names. Was it just me, or had Nezumi finally gotten a flair for using all the right references? I almost felt proud.

"Why are all the females in one squadron?"

"The Commander is of the opinion that the female homunculi are best suited for seduction, or undercover operations and administrative positions." She said briefly, with no emotion in her tone whatsoever. "Secretaries, assistants, escorts, maids, nannies, nurses, teachers, flight operators, news anchors, air hostesses, emergency service operators, etcetera. Female-specific and female-centered roles are to be fulfilled by the Aphrodite Squadron. The Commander believes that playing to our strengths as being with female sex organs is crucial, and that we need not take roles which can be performed more optimally by the males in a misguided desire to achieve equality."

I rubbed my nose slowly, and amusedly. "Alright… where is Nezumi now?"

"The Commander is –"

"Right here, Master Zack."

I spun around, finding the white-haired, lazy-eyed butler in an elegant suit approach me with a tray in hand. "I was unsure of what snack you would prefer to have on your arrival, so I made a small trip to France in order to provide you with some professionally made croissants."

I picked up the still heated food item, and I looked Nezumi in the eye.

"You travelled to France to get me croissants?"

"It was between that, or to head to Italy for some Pizza. I wagered on both choices, and decided to go with France. Perhaps I made the wrong decision?"

I chuckled as I bit in. "I'd say either one was the right one."

Ping!

You have tasted a special item!

Special Consumables Unlocked!

Restorative Items Unlocked!

You now receive special benefits from consuming certain food items and meals!

Another one. I stared at the notification in irritation. Another new feature – where the hell had all these things been? Why were they all coming into effect now?

Consumable Item:

Gaston's Croissants

+100% Affection with French Women for 10 hours

+15% HP Regen for 3 Minutes

Well, wasn't that just damn useful?

"Number 98," Nezumi spoke, and the homunculus immediately snapped to attention.

"Yes Commander?"

"I take it you have properly entertained Master Zack in my brief absence?" he asked, turning his attention to the homunculus.

"To the best of my abilities, Commander."

Nezumi seemed satisfied, and then he turned to me. "What do you think of the Homunculus, Master Zack? I chose an assassin from your collection of memories to serve as the default – before making further necessary adjustments."

I took another bite out of my croissant. "Good. Very good – you've outdone yourself this time around Nezumi."

He took a bow. "Only for you Master Zack." He rose from his bow, "Number 98 is here for you Master Zack, to make use of to your utmost satisfaction." He turned his attention back to the Homunculus. "Number 98 – relieve Master Zack of his worries."

I almost swallowed wrongly when she stripped out of the maid uniform, and I marveled at the work. If I did not know beforehand that she was an artificially created being, and if I did not know even further that she was not Barbara Gordon, there was no way I would have known by looking at her. Full, thick breasts. Toned, tanned stomach. Rich, sensual thighs. Perky, pink nipples. With a body that would make millions in the porn industry, or the modelling industry, or both, she sauntered towards me, got on her knees and began unbuckling my belt.

She wasn't Barbara, but god damn – she looked exactly like her and that thought was sending my blood pumping. Pumping downwards of course.

"I believe its best that you ah… enjoy some privacy, Master Zack."

Thankfully, Nezumi knew how to read a room, and I was greeted to the wonderful sight of Barbara Gordon lips slowly wrapping around me.

It might have been fake – but it was a very good fake.

Wait… wasn't I supposed to be focusing on the villains that escaped from Arkham?

Ahhhh…. Probably after this blowjob. Gotham could wait.

XXXX

Gotham City

Abandoned Intergang Hideout

9:24 AM

It was almost too easy.

He had never experienced a job as easy as this in his entire life. He stared at the crates filled to the brim with Alien technology, crates filled with guns that Earth could not feasibly have acquired on their own efforts, and he saw it instead as mountains of millions of dollars. The Gotham Massacre had killed every single last member of the Intergang – and all their spoils of war, their vehicles, their devices, their tech – all of it was up for grabs.

And of course, he and his daughter were the first ones to grab it. Literal billions – taken so easily.

"So…" she let out a grunt as she dropped one more large crate "…we'll need a truck to move all of this. A really large truck." She looked around and saw the crates "Or seven."

He shook his head. "I don't think transportation is ever going to be an issue for us anymore."

She tilted her head at him, and he almost frowned. "Use your head girl. What do you think is one of the most useful technological devices the people of Apokolips have?"

It didn't take long for it to click once more in her head. That was what he liked about her. Never slow on the uptake. It would be disappointing if she were.

"But where do we –"

"Search the box on the extreme right. The one I told you to separate from the rest."

She moved towards it, rummaging through it, before holding up a small rectangular object. He could already feel the amount of things he would be able to do with it – once he got it to one of those technology gurus and had it re-outfitted into a smaller, more mobile version. Perhaps he would attach it to his belt – a supercomputer with the ability to instantly create portholes and transport objects –

Teleportation would be an immensely useful tool in his arsenal.

"So… this little thing here is a Motherbox?"

"That little thing, is a ticket to anywhere, from anywhere. The ultimate smuggling tool, the ultimate assassination tool. It renders borders and distance irrelevant, and at the same time – it is a highly advanced piece of software that can control earth's mundane technologies."

She stared at it, a smile slowly forming on our lips.

"And it is ours?"

He nodded. "And it is ours."

There was no technology on earth that averted the opening of boom tubes. Nowhere – from the president's office, to the deepest vaults of Fort Knox – all of it was now fair game. Were he the holiday sort, he could not think of a better form of Christmas present.

"Are we going to sell it?"

He snapped his gaze in the direction of the girl.

"Are you stupid girl? Why in the world would we sell this of all things?"

She pointed.

"Because we have a whole box of them."

He let those words slowly sink in, his gaze following her direction.

"Well now – that changes everything."

He could not help but wonder, what would someone like Lex Luthor be willing to give for technology that was, in every conceivable way 'out of this world?'

BOOOM!

A powerful shockwave and the resounding echo of an explosion rung out in the distance, forcing him to stabilize himself from the force, and snapping his attention in that general direction.

"What was that?"

"I – I don't know – I think –" she flipped open her device, a smartphone, and several seconds later, she went quiet. He did not like the sound of that quiet.

"Well?" he asked impatiently.

"There was a breakout at Arkham Asylum. Every single fucker got out. Every single one."

He took in a sharp breath. Without the Batman present in the city –

"Get all the boxes ready." He barked. "We're leaving Gotham, now."

He was not taking any chances dancing with the clown. Not in the slightest. Besides that, with so many villains out and about, causing pointless havoc – it was bound to attract the attention of the Justice League. Bound to attract the attention of Earth's most dangerous man.

He did not want to be present for that confrontation.

XXXX

Gotham City

Deep Underground

Zack's Fortress

"Well that was refreshing – but I guess it's time for business now."

I stood in front of the large gladiatorial theater, staring straight at the gathered Alpha Division, the gathered Legion. Nezumi stood beside me, looking quite dapper in his butler's outfit.

"You are homunculi! There is no time for inspiring speeches, and no point in me giving them." I yelled out. "As we speak, idiotic villains are attacking the city and undermining my plans. The police force is incompetent to stop them, the military is always held up by something, and because superheroes decided to own territories like squabbling children own lunchboxes, the Justice League will not arrive to save the day."

I marched. "As it stands, Gotham's line of defense consists of a Teenager named Robin, a young woman named Batgirl, and a young adult named Nightwing. With two adults called Batwing and Batwoman. Oh, and possibly a Butler named Alfred. These six people are supposedly to guard the city against any and all threats – with absolutely no powers but fancy gadgets and suits. If that doesn't sound stupid to you, I don't know what is."

I spun. "Thankfully I have arrived. You, the Alpha Division, will be Gotham's vanguard. Its protectors. Why? Because this City has grown on me, and it shall be mine. No arguments. No questions. Your instructions are simple:"

"Altair Division and Unassigned Division, you are to use this resounding chaos to 'Take Over' the lives of majority officers and influential individuals in the Gotham Police Force. Divide yourself into platoons and sections, assign a leader, and begin your mission."

I turned to the side. "Aphrodite Division – commence feminine spy operations. Insert yourselves in favorable positions, and 'Take Over' as many as you can. You will be nurses, pediatricians, and secretaries – most men have loose tongues when dealing with women, so use that to your advantage."

I spun to the side. "Jenkins Division and Hawkeye Division! Suit up and immediately assume the role of a privately owned paramilitary company. The paperwork has been forged and you work for, and are hired by Makarov Dreyer. You will assist in the tactical elimination of any targets you deem are a threat to Gotham City. Set your weapons to stun and non-lethal. Lethal force may be used when completely unavoidable."

Nezumi created a large portal, along with it, he also created a numerous racks filled to the brim with military gear and equipment, stun-batons, stun-guns, actual guns with both rubber and normal bullets, and enough of the proper equipment to spare.

"You will be set on the outskirts of the city. Your vehicles, helicopters and other necessary items will be provided on sight – remember, you are to appear like the heroic Calvary. So I expect the very best from each and all of you. Now suit up – and let's go show this world what a real army looks like."

"Yes sir, Overlord-Commander sir!"

Overlord-Commander? I turned to Nezumi and he shrugged.

"I kind of like it."

"The titles they give does tend to have a flair to it." He mused. "Speaking of which, Master Zack, what title will you be wearing out this morning? The Consultant? The Billionaire? Or perhaps, the Horror? It has been quite a while since you used that last one."

"None of the above."

"None?"

I nodded. "Whoever sprung the criminals from jail did it with the intention of either getting the Batman back to the city, or confirming if I was still alive. They cut my plan down by six whole days doing so – and I'm not about to give them the satisfaction of publicly announcing my arrival. Not when Superman and the Justice League might be keeping a close eye on me."

Nezumi grinned. "So, what is it that we will be doing today then Master Zack?"

"Hunting and Gathering." I said cheekily. "Hunting a crow, and gathering some poisonous herbs."

XXXX

Gotham City

10:34

Gotham was going to the dogs.

As a cat person, she did not like that at all. The Consultant's actions had sent a rippling shockwave that could be felt throughout the entire city. It made it appear as though the world was ending. Bruce Wayne's name, synonymous with corruption and slander, Batman, missing and presumed dead or worse, and an overwhelming, thick sense of dread had settled on the shoulders of the inhabitants. Yet, paradoxically, the streets had never been peaceful.

Roads and alleys where women would once walk into and forever shatter their innocence, could be strolled by leisurely. Places where a knife was often rammed into your back unexpectedly, were hollow and deserted. The Consultant had reduced the crime rate of the city to near-zero.

Even she would not deny it. Every time she was tempted to go out and 'get' something she fancied, a vision of herself lying on the ground with her heart violently ejected from her chest would paralyze her to the spot.

She did not want to die. She also most certainly did not want to die in that manner.

For years she had failed to evade Batman, and in one night, a mysterious newcomer had incapacitated him. She did not want to try her luck against such odds.

Of course, with far less police, and with far less Batman, she knew it was only a matter of time before Arkham's inmates got testy. It happened far sooner than she anticipated though, and now, she was courtesy to the sight of the chaos that was once more befalling the city.

Victor Szasz ran around like a man possessed, looking for more and more people to kill.

Firefly torched down buildings at random, cackling to himself all the way.

Solomon Grundy barged into shops with shiny items, easily searching for trinkets to take.

Killer Croc walked around the streets like it was a casual Tuesday, the cannibalistic being targeting people as his next meals.

Mr. Freeze was once more setting parts of the city on ice, apparently looking to convert it to a winter wonderland so he could thrive here.

Poison Ivy's giant roots went up and about, turning buildings into exotic flower holders, and strangling people in the process.

Chaos – it was chaos everywhere. Worst of it all, no one had heard of the Joker. No one had seen him or Harley Quinn since the breakout. That, was the most terrifying thing of all.

The police had their hands full, and they could barely do anything to stop the villains. The heroes on the other hand, could not handle so many different threats effectively, as she spotted Nightwing engaged in combat with Tallyman, Batwoman attempt to take on Electrocutioner, and Batgirl was losing against the Riddler.

The Riddler.

It was overwhelmingly clear that they were not in any true state of mind to be fighting crime. Their movements were sluggish and stank more of desperation than determination, and it showed in their mediocre performance. The absence of Batman was clear as day, and it was chipping away at their morale, little-by-little.

She was almost tempted to jump in and help them – almost –

Until the sound of helicopters echoed across Gotham like a heavy siren.

The Military?

No – wait. It wasn't.

Instead, she could see it, emblazoned on the side of the helicopters, the infamous curved and stylistic 'L' that spelled the name of one of Gotham's largest industries.

Legend Industries… had its own military force?

Why didn't Bruce ever think of that?

Why indeed.

~~~~~~~~~~ DC – Remastered

She was tired.

"So, I see this riddle is one in which the answer is obvious."

She was very tired.

"Give it up Riddler!"

The Justice League had chosen one of the worst times in the world to be occupied with something else. The Flash, Superman, the rest of them – for one reason or another, something was going on elsewhere, at this exact moment, when Gotham was in trouble. The tactic reminded her of a particular person, a villain who would only ever strike whenever Batman wasn't present, a villain who had figured out his secret identity.

No. Stop. He's dead. This isn't the time to think about him.

A cane smacked into her stomach, reinforcing that notion as she doubled over, and then it smacked into the side of her face, sending her sprawling from the impact and rattling her brain inside her skull.

"Riddle me this: What is black and blue, and getting kicked around like a fool?"

She grit her teeth and shook her head. She grabbed two batarangs from her belt and tossed it towards the laughing man, only for him to deflect one, and for the other one to fly past him.

"So the rumors were true." The Riddler said, rubbing his chin.

She felt a spark of irritation. "What rumors?"

"The Batman is dead. Killed by the Consultant! Of all things! A Consultant! The most feared villain in all of Gotham! A Consultant!"

She snarled, lunging forward at the Riddler, tossing caution to the wind. "He's not dead!"

He leapt back, amusement plastered all over his face. "Oh? Then where is he? Where is the Batman in Gotham's greatest hour of need?"

What was she to say?

Broken and in rehab? Still recovering from surgery?

She herself did not know the truth. They hadn't told her the truth. The Justice League knew his condition, but hadn't said a word. They kept it under wraps, and according to them, it was on Batman's instructions that no one knew how he was doing. So she didn't know. She didn't know and the thought, and worry had been driving her insane. It made her unable to sleep, made her unable to think.

Then there was the Massacre which plagued her every sleeping moment and every waking thought. The blood, the smells, the gore, the hearts –

She couldn't sleep without the Consultant's smiling face peering down at her, holding a bloody heart in his hands.

"PAY ATTENTION!"

She barely managed to dodge another hit with his cane, gritting her teeth and cursing herself for losing focus during the battle.

"Well now, this riddle is one that's just too boring." The Riddler said, "What is large and green and apparently cannot be seen?"

She wanted to question it, especially the way his eyes seemed to look behind her, but at the same time, she knew that turning around could be disastrous, and it was likely that the Riddler was lying.

That was until the large green root of a plant slammed into her midsection causing her eyes to widen and her to cough at the force of the impact that definitely shattered a few ribs, before it sent her flying away, rolling unto the tarmac.

"Batgirl!"

She could hear Nightwing's call, or was it Robin's? She wasn't sure… all she could focus on was the blinding pain from the impact. It felt as though her stomach had been flogged by a tree, which was exactly what had happened. Poison Ivy's 'babies' were autonomous, and they attacked everyone and everything. The Riddler had been baiting her right into the path of one – and she had been too unfocused to notice.

A large, overwhelming buzzing sound began to echo, and her dazed mind barely recognized it as a helicopter. No – as a lot of helicopters.

She watched as men clad in dark beige military camo roped down from the skies with guns in their hands, and she almost wanted to scream –

Didn't they know that these were supervillains?

"Target Acquired. Gamma One – this is Section 12. We have sights on priority target – The Riddler. Engaging now."

"W-wait – y-you –"

There was the sound of something buzzing like sharp static.

"Gamma One, Priority target down. Target will be restrained and delivered. This is Section 12 moving to the next priority target – Solomon Grundy."

She stared, stared in disbelief at the sight that was before her. The Riddler, unconscious and bound effortlessly. Solomon Grundy, attempting to 'smash' the men, only for several, dead on accurate shots to his jaw and forehead, with…

Incendiary rounds?

Solomon Grundy let out a large, uncomfortable screech that hurt her ears, as he was promptly cooked from the inside out.

"Target down. I repeat, target down."

On and on it went – with precision that was almost inhuman –

A rubber bullet was shot by a sniper, hitting Firefly straight in the forehead and putting him out of commission.

Killer Croc was beaten into submission with soldiers holding stun-batons and riot shields. Their movements were too fast, too smooth, and too coordinated for him to do anything. It was like watching the biggest bully in the yard curl up to a ball and be kicked around by a group of three year old girls.

No effort was wasted on Victor Szasz, as a hail of rubber bullets put him out of commission in seconds.

The Electrocutioner was somewhat tougher for them to get a proper handle on, but there were too many of them, and they were ridiculously well trained. A live ammunition round, rather than a rubber bullet, found itself embedded into the Electrocutioner's kneecaps, and he, too, was down for the count.

"Who… are these guys?" She heard Robin's voice – Tim's voice, ask from directly behind her, and she realized that most of their fighting was done and over with.

"I don't know." Nightwing responded. "I've never heard of them before. Nothing about them. But judging by their insignia's –" their eyes went to the logos on their equipment and gear "They belong to Legend Industries. To Makarov Dreyer."

That name brought unease and resentment to all of them. Gotham's only other Billionaire – whose campaign had irreversibly smeared Bruce's name in the media.

"Can they – can we let them do this?" Robin asked, "They just –"

"Technically, no. They can't. They're not enforcers of the law in any way. Then again… neither are we."

Almost as soon as it began, it ended. Swift. Fast. Faster than anything they could have done on their own.

Faster than anything Batman had ever done.

That thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Especially as the rounded up criminals were all tied up and unconscious, and all of it, done without a single causality, without causing any property damage, without putting individual lives in any danger.

She should have felt happy. She should have felt glad that the threat was over. Instead, she felt…

Useless.

"I'm heading back to Titan's Tower." Robin said, out of the blue. "I think… I think I need to be out of Gotham. Just for a while."

Somehow, she could not help but feel the same.

XXXX

Gotham City

Abandoned Hideout

Monsters.

They were monsters.

"You know, have I ever mentioned just how much I enjoy your enhanced senses Nezumi?"

"Not that much, Master Zack."

Nothing he did worked. None of his serums. None of his gasses. None of his inventions. Even the strongest of his chemical components – he tossed it at them, and they just walked through it like it was a cloud of air. He'd tossed hydrofluoric acid at them and shot liquid nitrogen at them – and they just shrugged it off in amusement.

"W-what what do you want with me?"

"Oh, you know – just your general knowledge of chemistry. You see, I was originally thinking about kidnapping you and forcing you to work for me – but then I realized something," the smaller monster, with slick black hair in a ponytail, clapped his hands as though having an epiphany "I don't need you. All I need, is your knowledge. Which means, I can get all of that without having to take the rest of you. Isn't that nifty?"

"You – you can't –"

The boy blurred forward, and he found himself being choked effortlessly by the neck.

"Do you know who I am?"

He shook his head in the negative.

"I am the Consultant."

All at once, dread, cold, overwhelming dread filled him up. An impossible amount of dread, at facing one of Gotham's most feared names – one of Gotham's most terrifying villains.

"And you, little crow – are a means to an end."

Scarecrow whimpered.

"Master Soul Drain."

And he was no more.

"So, that's one down. One to go."

XXXXX

Gotham City

Conservatory

Nezumi was like a bloodhound, in regards to his ability to sense emotions and people, and eventually aid me in tracking them down. Once I had absorbed Scarecrow's soul, I also absorbed a significant amount of his psychology, chemistry, and biology knowledge, and I absorbed along with it, the secret of his famed fear gas, and how exactly it worked. With my ability to alter anything to anything, it didn't take me long to realize just how powerful this was in my arsenal.

"Alter – Fear Gas."

I waved my hand in the air, and I substituted a large amount of oxygen for the compounds necessary, but at the same time, I made the gas both odorless and colorless. No one, except for me, would have any idea that they were breathing in something else instead of air. This was not even taking into account the ways I could inject it into people or deliver stronger doses via contact.

Right now, however, I gestured the fear gas to move inside the building where I knew Poison Ivy to be located. She was, the final step and stage of my little plan, and she had taken up a position that was far away from the actual city, and was staying in relative comfort.

"Is there a particular reason why we are waiting for your fear gas to take effect, rather than merely approaching and binding the woman?"

I hummed. "I increased the potency of Scarecrow's formula a bit. I also reduced the activation time… so I just want to see what sort of effect it'll have on –"

A wild, manic scream echoed from within.

"Well – that answers that question."

Nezumi and I sauntered into the large greenhouse building, overrun with vines, flowers, trees and more green than I could account for, and we came across the sight of one Pamela Isley.

It was not a pretty sight.

She was clawing at herself. Clawing, biting, ranting, screaming, and frothing at the mouth. There were tears streaming down her eyes and snot dribbling from her nose. Her brilliant fiery red hair was a scattered mess, her green dress was torn in a lot of places that exposed her body, but she was in no state of mind to care.

"Stopstopstopstopstop! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!" She was now banging her head on the floor "MAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTO-"

In a blur, Nezumi was behind the woman, with a well-placed chop to the back of her neck. Her eyes went wide, before she slumped forward into unconsciousness… in what appeared to be a pool of her own urine.

Damn. There went all my sexual fantasies.

"Master Zack… what percentage constitutes increasing the potency a bit?" Nezumi asked.

"That was just a 20% increase… why did it – how did it have that much of an effect?"

"I believe it is the result of your magic Master Zack. … And possibly because your ingredients, as it were, constitutes pure elements lacking any impurities. I highly doubt Scarecrow was capable of converting nitrogen into pure oxygen with but the snap of his fingers."

That was… fascinating. What would happen if I gave it a 50% increase? A 100% increase? A 300% increase? Could I kill someone with nothing but their own fear?

"Hmm…. This probably deserves some further study Nezumi." I said, unable to hide my small grin. "Come on – pick up Poison Ivy and let's head back home. I think we've had as much fun as we could today."

For once, it seemed that things were going according to plan.

XXXXX

Later that evening…

Gotham City

7:23 PM

Brooks Household

"– and the guys were like pew pew pew!" Lucian said giddily. "You totally should have seen it Zack! It was the coolest thing ever! They were like some sort of super-army or something!"

I tilted my eyebrow as I leaned into the dining chair. "Super-army?" I turned my eyes towards the direction of Evelyn. "Really?" I said, inserting as much skepticism into my voice.

Evelyn shrugged. "Normally I'd say Lucian is full of hot air –"

"Hey!"

"But he's kind of right this time. These guys… they were super professional. I've… actually never seen anything like it before."

I hummed, before turning to Naomi, who, despite my best efforts, decided to make dinner today in order to 'thank me' for everything. "And what did you think?"

"I was just glad they rounded up all the criminals," she admitted, "And what they did afterwards… they're the real heroes."

I rose an eyebrow to indicate confusion. "What did they do afterwards?"

"You didn't know?" Evelyn answered in her mother's place "They went around, pulling people from any buildings that had been damaged, putting out the fires that had been started, offering first aid treatment to anyone who was even slightly injured – along with candy –"

"They gave me a whole box of Malteezers! And cool band-aids!"

Evelyn rolled her eyes at her brother's comment. "That sort of thing. They even cleared debris from street, offered accommodation to people whose homes were destroyed and ensured that any collateral damage done by the villains would be paid for in full – even though that sort of stuff is usually covered by insurance. It was… amazing honestly." Evelyn let out a small frown.

"I don't think Batman has ever done even half of that. I've definitely never heard of him giving candy and first-aid to the injured before." She paused, "Or any heroes really – not even The Flash or… or Superman."

"It's not their jobs to treat the wounded."

"It's not their jobs to fight crime either – but they do that all the same." She argued. "I always thought we wouldn't be able to survive in Gotham without superheroes or the Batman… but I guess I was wrong."

"Oh, oh! Let's turn on the TV, I think they're going to say something about it today!"

I did my best not to allow a mischievous smirk on my face as we moved to the living room and put on the news.

"… And today, C.E.O of Legend Industries, Makarov Dreyer, makes a louder statement than we ever imagined, by introducing his personal private army, The Legionnaires, into the streets of Gotham to combat crime. With the Batman still missing in action, and the rest of the Batfamily unable to raise a finger to stop the disastrous threat of the villains of Gotham – The Legionnaires rallied, arrived, and decimated the threats in unbelievable record times. Peace was restored to Gotham – and it was Peace brought by a new face."

"The Legionnaires are the new symbol of hope for Gotham City – providing aid, shelter, food, and supplies to the people in its darkest hour –"

"Even as Gotham suffers the effects of The Disheartening, Makarov Dreyer refused to sit idly by and presents his own solution to the problems of the City – an elite force dedicated to keeping the people safe and keeping them happy. Now, we can truly begin to push behind the Massacre behind us, and focus on healing and a better tomorrow – "

"This is Vicki Vale reporting, here, live, as Makarov Dreyer finally makes an announcement to the public in the grand hall of Legend Industries – "

I stared into the screen, unable to keep my lips from twitching. Nezumi better have rehearsed the lines enough.

"For too long, this city has relied on one man as its symbol of hope. For too long, we have looked upwards to the sky and the signal, feeling satisfied that there is a man out there who saves us from the monsters. But has he? Has he really? Has Batman's presence not only acerbated the problems? Have we been too awed by vigilante caped crusaders and their hollow victories that we failed to see the roots of the problem?"

Shake of the head.

"Today, Batman was not present, and the city faced a great threat. The police could not stop it. The so-called heroes were powerless to stop it. A tragedy could have occurred, another one, so close after the former, because what? Because we rely too much on these heroes. Because we are unable to accept, that in all the years of crime-fighting, Batman has not reduced crime in Gotham. Because we, ourselves, require a hero."

Arms outstretched.

"But no – no longer. What we need, is order. What we need, is stability. We do not need heroes. We, ourselves, are heroes. And so, it is with that reasoning, that I founded the Legionnaires, to rise up and defend the people in a time where our heroes failed to do so. During the Gotham Massacre, there was nothing that could be done. They were not rallied in time to save the lives of countless, they were not ready. It is, and it will forever be, my greatest regret."

Pause.

"But today – today, they were ready. Today, the people of Gotham were saved. Not with a man in a mask and fancy gadgets, but they were saved, by people, people like them. People with discipline, training, heart, and passion. People who care about this city, and care about the people inside this city. Gotham doesn't need heroes, it needs people. People like you, and people… like me."

Dramatic ascension.

"It is with that reasoning, that I announce, I, Makarov Dreyer, will be running for Mayor of Gotham City. Because I want to fix this city, and I want to fix it, not with heroes, but with people."

Mic. Drop.

And…. Scene.

"Well now…" I said, breaking the thick, awestruck silence in the room. "…isn't that guy just so swell?"

Their expressions were just wondrous. Still, I couldn't help the nagging suspicion that I was forgetting something… something very important. Something I was supposed to have done.

Whatever it was – I think I could handle it.

XXXXX

Unknown Location

"Your plan didn't work," A woman said, grinding her teeth. "Even after hiring Deadshot of all people to kill all the guards and instigate the breakout – we did not succeed in luring out the Consultant. Instead, we gave a billionaire the necessary ammunition to launch a political career."

The man was eerily silent. "I will admit… I did not account for the possibility of another player on the board. This… Makarov Dreyer is it? Such a man with such ambition… it was an error to overlook him."

"I still believe the Consultant is dead and all of this is a waste of our time."

"Now, do not be too hasty in rushing to assumptions. The Consultant… his lack of an appearance would mean that he anticipated Dreyer's Legionnaires. To possess such foresight… it only makes him far more interesting."

"Well… what now?"

"Now? Now – we wait. We wait, until the wildcard arrives on the board."

XXXXX

Somewhere in Gotham City

"What we need, is order. What we need, is stability. We do not need heroes. We, ourselves, are heroes –"

The sound of shattering glass and electrical sparks echoed in the vast room.

"Yay! I got another one!" a woman's voice called out, before it let out a long hum "Whadd'ya think of this guy Mistah J? He called us heroes!"

A man rose in the darkness.

"Well now, I guess we'll have to prove him wrong, won't we pudding?" A dark grin flashed as a painted face emerged. "We'll have to show him, just how wrong he is."

«

Watchtower

"Worldwide recognition and focus has been placed on Gotham City's Makarov Dreyer, the C.E.O. of Legend Industries, in concern to his now famous, ground-breaking speech – 'We are all heroes.'."

"Some have accused Mr. Dreyer of anti-vigilantism, and claim that the billionaire's speech was not an address merely to Batman, but to the entirety of the World's Heroes –"

"The billionaire Mayor-Candidate's words have sparked worldwide controversy and global debate in relation to the current status of superhero vigilante justice which has prevailed the country for years – it also questions the effectiveness of these tactics, and if it truly is wise to put the lives of millions in the hands of few individuals –"

"Mr. Dreyer has made it clear should he be elected for Mayor of Gotham – all forms of vigilantism will be considered illegal, and depending on the severity, one could spend fifteen-to-life. This controversial decision, Dreyer claims, will be for the betterment of mankind and humanity –"

"Strong support has fallen in favor of the billionaire mayoral candidate – particularly, Metropolis' richest man, Lex Luthor, publicly displayed not only his support for Mr. Dreyer's decision to run for mayor, but also his stance on vigilantism and his approach on cleaning the streets of Gotham –"

"The Justice League, who are still under fire from failing to act to save the lives of Gotham civilians during the Gotham Massacre, have so far refused to comment on Makarov Dreyer's speech."

"In other news, while the hashtags #WeAreAllHeroes and #VotefortheLegend reach number one trending worldwide on social media, the people of Gotham also wait with baited breath for the case of the disgraced Billionaire, Bruce Wayne, who has not been seen since the Gotham Massacre, and who is now required in court to face allegations of embezzlement of funds and suspected fraud –"

The T.V. went off with a simple click. There was silence in the room, thick, overflowing silence that wrapped around the people present like a gloved hand.

"Well… that happened."

The silence was broken by a man in a red suit, a red-suit that was made with nanocarbon fiber weaves to enable it immune to the extremities of speed and friction. He turned his gaze around to everyone in the room, from the man in green, to the woman and red-white and blue, to the green man, the hawk man and woman, the aquatic man, and finally, the man of steel.

"I believe this is a… rather delicate situation," the Green Man said, placing his hands on the table and focusing.

"Delicate? What is delicate about this?" The man in green said, a scowl on his face. "Did you listen to the same speech I did? This man clearly has it out for heroes –"

"And can we truly blame him?" the Green Man interrupted smoothly.

The man in green scowled even harder. "What?"

"If you would forgive my lack of modesty, Green Lantern, but I am the most powerful telepath on the planet. In the aftermath of the massacre that injured Batman, I felt it – the fear and hopelessness and disillusionment of millions." The green man shook his head. "We failed them. We failed to rescue them – because we were content to believe that Batman could handle any threat posed in his city by himself. The Flash or Superman could have sped to Gotham, captured the Consultant and imprisoned him within seconds – but because we decided to entrust the safety of Gotham to one person – and as a result of that oversight, we doomed the lives of thousands."

"Batman has always been able to handle crime in Gotham by himself!"

"Has he? Has he truly?" the Green Man countered, "Even with all the years of Batman's presence in that city – it's crime rate is at least 50% greater than that of any other city patrolled by any other hero. Metropolis, Central City, Washington D.C., Starling City – the presence of heroes has cut down the crime rates. But in Gotham?"

"I don't quite like what you're trying to imply, Manhunter." The Man of Steel said, his arms crossed.

"The truth is rarely ever liked Superman. And that is what this is – the truth. It is the same reason as to why we all feel uncomfortable with Makarov Dreyer's words, because we are aware – that to an extent, what he said is true."

There was a thick, uncomfortable silence in the room. The Martian Manhunter was one of the few truly objective people in the Justice League, due to the fact that Earth was not truly his planet, and would never be his people. Unlike Superman, who had grown and lived on earth and come to accept humans as his people and race, the Martian was in more ways than one, an outsider. His telepathic powers also gave him further insight into the minds of people on earth, and when kept in addition with his constantly cool demeanor, it made him one of the best people to render completely unbiased judgement.

"I know you have thought this through, Superman," Manhunter said, "And I understand your misgivings. Batman is an ally to all of us, but to you, he is a close friend. You may not wish to believe or accept that a man as brilliant as Batman has been failing for years – but the results speak volumes. It is only in Gotham City where we have truly vile and malicious individuals such as the Joker, and now, The Consultant – a teenage boy who slaughtered thousands because he felt they were all criminals and all worthy of death."

Superman's face scrounged up. He could still remember it – encountering the Consultant for the first time. Seeing the man who hurt his friend, who killed thousands – he was ready to fight. Ready to completely and mercilessly bring in this criminal –

Only for him to realize something was wrong as he gazed at the Consultant. There was a haze all over him. So, he switched from his normal vision to Infrared and X-Ray. Then, he saw it –

A blonde boy that could be no older than sixteen.

He hadn't known what to do – what to say – the fact that a young child had done so much damage. The way the boy held himself, the way he gazed at the Justice League, Superman saw it. He saw a boy who didn't see heroes, who didn't see beacons of light – no, the boy's gaze reminded Superman of children who stood in front of an arcade videogame, ready to play and beat the high-score. He had seen the Justice League as a challenge, his face, his heartbeat, the pumping of blood – he had been excited, no thrilled.

The boy was thrilled to stand against them.

Then, upon realizing how hopelessly outmatched he was – how completely impossible it was for him to succeed –

He killed himself.

In those final few seconds, Superman had watched as the boy slumped, and he had never felt anything like it in his life. It was like the boy's entire will to live had vanished – like his soul had been ripped out of his body – his face had been blank, hollow, like a tortured child who had broken past all repair. And then – he felt it, the build-up of power.

He had rushed forward, trying to stop the boy – but all his speed was for naught against what seemed to be an internal dead-man switch. So he watched, and he watched, as organs and blood and body parts were disintegrated by fire, sent soaring by shockwaves. The explosion had done little to damage him, and when it was over, there was not even an atom left of the boy.

What kind of place could push a child to do something like that? What kind of upbringing could a boy have had to commit such atrocities? To what end? For what purpose? Such a boy would have used those powers for good – used those powers to help people –

If Superman had met him earlier, he would have tried to save him. To convert him off a path of blood and darkness. He would have tried to make him exemplary.

But, he hadn't met him earlier. No – Batman had met him. Batman would have no way of realizing he was not facing a truly malevolent killer, but a misguided child. Batman would have not bothered with conversation. Batman would have attempted to arrest him and bring him to justice – and for that reason alone, he would have failed.

"Have we been arrogant… all this while?"

The question threw most of the Justice League for a loop. The Man of Steel turned his gaze on them, his eyes hardened.

"Each of us here – we do our best to patrol our cities – but that mentality – our cities – has it been arrogant of us? To have our own miniature 'territories' and to pay no heed to what goes on in another's place?"

"Wait – wait – so… you want us to go to another city and start saving kitties from trees there?" The Flash asked, his eyebrow raised slightly.

"And why can't we?" Superman asked with a smile. "Why can't the Flash visit Metropolis, and help save cats from trees?" He turned to Wonder Woman, "Why can't Wonder Woman visit Central City and help some people cross the street?" He turned to Green Lantern, "And why can't the Green Lantern help out in Washington every once in a while?"

"Because it's not our –"

"Not our cities, or not our place?" Superman interrupted. "We are the Justice League. We are not the protectors of cities, but the protectors of earth."

Superman slowly clenched his fist, his expressions morphing into one of defeat.

"I can't stop thinking about that boy. The Consultant. I can't stop thinking about how I could have saved him. How I could have helped him – if only I knew."

"Saved him? What about the thousands he slaughtered?" Green Lantern argued.

Superman shook his head. "By saving him, we would have saved those thousands." He sighed. "It's the same with a lot of our villains. Had we saved them before they could fall – we would have saved thousands as a result. If you could have stopped Sinestro from ever defecting the Green Lantern corps – can you imagine how many lives you would have saved as a result?"

The Green Lantern looked like he'd swallowed a rather unpleasant lemon.

"I want to save as many people as I can. I want to help as many people as I can. And not just from world-ending threats or from alien invasions, or from bank robberies or muggings – but to truly, save them."

The rest of the Justice League stared up at the Man of Steel, and they were reminded, once more, why he was considered the greatest man on the planet. A lot of what they did constituted fighting evil and crime and inspiring awe and safety in the populace, from Green Lantern to Wonder Woman, to The Flash. That was what they did – they inspired awe and they assured people that they were safe. But Superman?

Superman inspired hope.

Superman was the only one who did that.

"There was one thing that Mr. Dreyer got right in his speech. The world doesn't need heroes." Superman shook his head.

"It needs saviors."

He turned to all of them.

"It needs us."

XXXX

Watchtower

Infirmary Ward

A man lay on a bed, staring silently at the screen which lay in front of him.

"It needs us."

He closed his eyes. And then, they snapped open with tremendous force. The man rolled off from his bed, his eyes staring at his hands, or rather, what was left of his hands. Two stumps extending from the shoulders glared back at him, and he, in turn, glared back at it. He glared at the final stump – a leg.

Some people would gaze down at the stumps and see a reason to stop. Others would see a reason to give up. Others would feel extreme dread and horror. Others, perhaps, would have broken down.

He looked at the stumps, and he rolled to the bed and dropped himself to the ground. He grit his teeth to hold back the agonizing roar of pain that threatened to escape from his lips. And then he pushed. And he pushed. And he used his head as a balance. He forced his stomach to clench. He ignored bandages, ignored pain. And he pushed.

And he stood.

On one leg. With no arms.

He stood.

And he would keep standing.

He would keep standing.

As long as there was injustice. As long as there was crime. As long as there was evil.

He would keep standing.

"C-computer. Call. Alfred Pennyworth."

XXXX

Elsewhere

Betty Hammond did not like this at all.

Being the secretary of Mayor Hamilton Hill was not an easy job in the slightest, and she already had to deal with significant issues in the Mayor's current bid to get re-elected. Her workload was compounding day by day, doing her best to handle a lot of the paperwork that the Mayor was always either 'too busy' or 'too preoccupied' to do. If people knew that a lot of the Mayor's ratifications and decisions were made in proxy by his secretary – well, things would end badly.

Now, she knew things were going to be bad if Makarov Dreyer had joined the race. A self-made billionaire – it was clear that Makarov was not entering the political office for monetary gains. Oh no, it was clear that when he won – because she would be lying if she said Hamilton Hill held a chance – there would be some major changes going on. Gotham would be transformed. The problem of course, was the matter of playing the farce of supporting Hill.

Monetary wise, Dreyer was set to launch a campaign that would dwarf theirs, because they did not have billions to spare. Impact wise, Legend Industries focused on all branches of the society, their companies manufactured everything from common paper, to expensive super-cars. Their farms provided produce from eggs and milks, to strawberries and vegetables. The internship programs and workshops, training tutorials, and vast community colleges and schools built or provided by Legend Industries also meant they had a lot of people who would be willing to vote for Dreyer.

In contrast, Hamilton Hill had… what?

All his major supporters, the Crime Families – all of them had been killed in the Massacre. Bruce Wayne was MIA and was currently embroiled in a massive embezzlement scandal – and their funding was essentially non-existent. The only reason the Mayor had not withdrawn from the race was due to stubborn pride, and due to running mostly unopposed.

The secretary shook her head and let out a long sigh. Working such long hours here in the office was going to be bad for her health. Now, what she wanted more than anything was to go back home and take a long, relaxing –

Her eyes immediately widened as a pair of gloved hands wrapped around her nose and mouth. She tried to struggle, but found all her attempts in vain – the grip was strong, far too strong. She smelt something on the gloves, and she felt her strength begin to rapidly drain away, drain away until there was almost nothing else left – and she slowly slipped in and out of consciousness.

"Target Neutralized. Soul Profile Obtained: Betty Hammond. Commencing Take Over."

Her hazy mind could have sworn that the person that was standing over her, with dark brown hair and familiar hazelnut eyes was… her?

"Take Over Completed. This is Agent 041 of the Aphrodite Division, requesting transfer of obsolete target."

Betty wasn't sure what happened next. The memory was hazy – too hazy – portals, soldiers, hallways –

All of it was too much to take, and so – she passed out.

She awoke to the sound of screams, begs, yells, and desperate cries. And she did not like it in the slightest.

~~~~~~~~~~ DC – Remastered Edition ~~~~~~~~~~

Zack's Underground Fortress

She wasn't sure where she was. She didn't know. She couldn't' remember anything – well, not mch anyway. The basics were still clear, like who she was and what she did – the innate connection to the green ensured her that she would never be able to forget her origins. As did her green-tinted skin which made it clear to anyone who even had so much as a glancing look at her that she was more than human. The absorption of chlorophyll into her bloodstream to deliver her with all the nutirents she needed had also provided her with a healthy green skin.

Though, said skin had certaintly seen better days.

She stared around in a small room, realizing, that it was, for all intents and purposes, a four by four iron box. She almost sneered at it. Did they really think that she could be kept in something this limiting? To be restrained in an iron box of all things?

"Come to me my babies!"

Plants everywhere would gather, they would crush this feeble iron as though it were nothing. She would find herself freed once more.

Nothing happened.

She frowned. "Come to me!"

She reached out, searching for the plant life that dominated the earth, that should have been abundant everywhere on the face of the planet.

Nothing.

"Impossible!"

It was not possible. It was not conceiveable. As long as humans existed, so did plants. It was impossible for there to be no plants anywhere near her for what? Several thousand kilometers? That was her maximum effective range, but as far as she could sense, there were no plants anywhere.

She growled. If that were the case, then she would need to create her own. She rose her hands up, calling upon her power. "Rise babies!"

…Nothing.

Now, she was getting worried. Even the most stubborn and persistent of weeds, the dandelion, scutch grass, field bindweed, chickweed, creeping thistle – all of them refused to grow. These were some plants capable of growing in a tiny crack of concrete, and yet, they could not grow. There was something seriously wrong. What was going on? Why couldn't she use her powers? Why were her babies refusing to grow?

Before she could question it even further, she watched as a large portion of the metal room suddenly gained lines, and then, a door appeared, swinging open. From within, a young man stepped forward. He was masked in an eerie looking thing that almost looked as though it were made from the bones of a human being. His hair was thick and blonde, and his figure was easily intimidating, despite being cloaked completely in black robes.

"Pamela Isley." The man said in a voice that sounded like a blend between a growl and a grunt. "Congratulations on waking up. No doubt you have already attempted to utilize your powers and watch them fail. I can assure you that is of my doing. As long as you are here – I am essentially god. I applied a rule which said you cannot use your powers, and that rule has been written into reality."

She couldn't tell whether he was joking or bluffing, but it was not the first time she had met such a man with an over-inflated ego. "And who are you exactly?"

"That matters very little. What matters right now, is you. Poison Ivy. Eco-terrorist, supervillain – short-sighted petty misandrist. As of now, I hold your life literally in my hands, and it would be best if you were to co-operate if you wish to continue your current existence."

She snarled. "Who do you think you –" Her words never left her throat as parts of the metal room rose, extending into iron clad hands which immediately wrapped around her mouth. More iron shifted, as if being commanded by an unseen force, and she suddenly realized that she was now essentially placed on a cross.

"I have easier ways of guaranteeing your complete and utter obedience, but I prefer things given freely rather than taken forcefully." The voice said easily. "But if you truly must know who I am –"

In a flash, the mask was gone. The dark cloak was stripped off, and in its place, was an attractive young man with blonde hair and startling blue eyes. It was a face that people had gotten to know courtesy of a video recording, where this same man had unleashed a horse upon the niece of Carmine Falcone, and laughed giddily in the background as the equine pounded into the hapless woman.

"I take it you know who I am?" He said with flourish and a long bow. "Of course you do, those eyes of yours say it all."

The Villain-Killer. The man with the most sickeningly brutal methods of exacting 'justice.' A mass murderer that nearly surpassed the clown prince of crime.

"Now, I'm going to allow you to speak – and we're going to have a conversation, consultant to client."

As he said that, the metal hands covering her mouth vanished. That did not do anything in the slightest to ease her uneasiness however.

"What... what do you want with me?"

He made a gesture of thinking.

"Hmm… I want a sex slave that can't get knocked up."

She felt the blood drain completely from her face.

"…Is probably what I'd say if I wanted to spook you." He added dryly, amusement clear on his face. "I didn't think anyone could pale so quickly. Doubly impressive considering your skin is tinted green."

She grit her teeth.

"Alright – fine, fine no jokes." He said, raising his hands dismissively. "The truth is, I wanted to consult you."

"Consult me?" Ivy repeated, unable to believe she just heard those words.

"Hmm." The Consultant nodded. "You see, I honestly could not care less about plants, or the environment, or the sanctity of earth and what not that you seem to want to champion at every turn and every corner. Because honestly, at the end of the day, none of that matters. And I don't mean that in the nihilistic sense –" he shook his head. "In time, we will attempt to colonize mars, and then move on to other planets in our solar system – in which case, what constitutes as a 'plant' will be so far removed from what you know and value today. Of course, this will be in several years when you will most likely be long dead – so, I suppose there's no point regardless."

"Your point being?"

"Oh, yes!" He snapped his fingers as though remembering something. "My point is – you, Poison Ivy, are a ridiculous fool who's sheer stupidity and ineptitude baffles me."

"Excuse me?!"

"For someone with a Doctorate, you are incredibly stupid. Waging crusades and wars against Gotham City and Batman in some attempt at making people become eco-friendly? Was that really all you could think about using your powers to do?" The Consultant shook his head, and then, out of nowhere, a globe appeared in his hand.

"If you wanted to make the world a better place," he spun the globe "How about attempting to solve some of its major problems first?"

"You don't think deforestation is a major problem?" she said, getting angry, "You don't think the cutting down of innocent trees and plant life to make pointless furniture and paper is a problem?"

"Well no." The Consultant said with a shrug. "Not in light of things like world hunger and starvation. Or poverty."

"And what am I supposed to do about any of that?"

Again, the Consultant sighed. "You see – this is why I said you're stupid. Tell me Ivy – you have the ability to instantaneously make plants grow. You can drop a seed on the ground, and in a few seconds, you have a fully grown sentient tree ready to maul a man to death. Sometimes, you don't even need a seed – you just snap your fingers and have a miniature Garden of Eden at your beck and call."

That was… true.

"Do you see where I'm going with this?" The Consultant said with a shake of his head. "You, Pamela Isley, have the power, the potential, and the ability to end world hunger. Forever. Multiply harvests, refresh dried fruits, create the finest quality grains ever seen in the world. You could do this and sell it for a fortune, or, if you were the generous type, give it for free – and become forever immortalized in the pages of history as the woman who solved world hunger."

Her face was blank. Her mind was running at several miles an hour, speeding and questioning.

"Instead – what did you do? What are you? A glorified eco-terrorist who fails to beat a man in a bat-costume. So… stupid."

"I would never – do you even know what you're asking me to do?" She argued, "My plants, they're my –"

"Your babies." The Consultant interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "Oh yes, they're your babies. Your precious little darlings. If you care so much about edible plants that have been grown for millennia for the purpose of consumption, why don't you push for anti-vegan lifestyles? Why don't you attack vegetarians and tell them all to go eat their pet dogs? Would you feel better if everyone became meat eaters instead?"

No… no she wouldn't. That would just be… cruel… so many innocent animals –

"So, what exactly is your justification, Ivy?" The Consultant asked with a tut. "Why haven't you used your powers for the greater good of mankind?" He probed further. "The way I see it, if you had done that, you'd have a lot more weight when you championed for people to stop cutting down trees and removing national parks. You'd be like Mother Theresa – only sexier and greater. If you told people that they shouldn't cut trees, do you really think they'd want to argue with the woman who ended world hunger? Do you think they could?"

Of course not. To do so would invoke immediate backlash. She could already see it – already envision how it would play out, already realize just how much good she could do –

End world hunger?

It sounded like a farfetched plan. An over-the-top dream. Yet, in a world with godlike alien beings, was something like ending world hunger so unreachable? If anything, shouldn't it be easier?

The gears were already turning in her head. She could see it – she could actually see herself doing it. She could envision sickly and malnourished children happily eating from bowls. She could see starving families enthusiastically enjoying meals. She could…

She stopped her train of thought and immediately remembered where she was, and who she was with.

"I don't understand. You – you kidnapped me and bound me, just for the sole purpose of giving me a way to cure world hunger? Why?"

The young man took a flourishing bow. "I am the Consultant. I didn't pick the name out of a hat you know. Originally, I was going for a Moriarty-styled 'Criminal Consultant' role – but kind of lost it after my little war with Falcone."

"What you're doing is anything but criminal," she paused, "Aside from kidnapping me that is. Ending world hunger – do you know just how many lives will be saved? How many places and countries will develop? Just how much change and progress that could bring?"

"I don't really care."

She blinked at the admission.

"You – you don't?"

"No."

"Then… why?"

The Consultant actually shrugged.

"Because I can. I do things, because I can, and because I feel like it, and no reason else." It was the first time seeing what seemed like genuine emotion on the young man's face. "Today, I decide to end world hunger, tomorrow, I decide to pick up a prostitute, fuck her into unconsciousness, and then kill her like I'm playing GTA in real life. I do things because I can."

He gave her an eerie look. "I won't lie, the thought of fucking you did cross my head almost a hundred times."

She felt eerily cold.

"And while I could have, I didn't truly feel up to it. Turns out, green nipples aren't really that attractive."

She had absolutely no idea as to what to say to that.

The Consultant – he was… confusing. It felt like he was putting on an act half of the time, and he felt as though he was being serious some other times. More than that however, was the duality of his nature. As far as Ivy knew, villains were villains and heroes were heroes. There was no intertwining the two, because you would stray towards one alignment or the other. People like Catwoman, despite being known to aid heroes once in a while, was predominantly a thief. She did not do good out of the goodness of her heart, she only did it when it benefited her.

But a person who did good and evil in random amounts? A man who could be seen petting a dog one moment, and then turning around to slam a steel-toed boot into a pregnant cat another moment? What was she to make of such a person? How did one even go categorizing such a person?

"Anyway – I believe I've made my case. Stop wasting your time in Gotham – and go do something actually worthwhile."

He snapped his fingers, and what appeared like a portal, a literal hole in space and time appeared.

"This portal leads to Johannesburg, South Africa. Meet up with the Legend Industries branch open there, and they'll get you started on ways to end world hunger without running into much legal issues."

The metal holding her captive melted away, leaving her completely free, and she stared at the Consultant in complete disbelief.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." He added with a shrug.

"I mean – my criminal past, my records, my –"

"All of that will be handled. New documents will be ready for you upon your arrival, and you'll be registered underneath the Legend Industries Metahuman Reformation International Company. Codenamed: Limerick." He said smoothly.

She still couldn't believe this. She couldn't believe it. Was this person truly evil?

"And that's it? You – you don't want anything else from me?"

"As I said – green nipples,"

"Stop mentioning my nipples!" she growled. "I – I can't believe this. There has to be some sort of catch – no one – no one is this – this –"

"You've unfortunately grown with the ideology that no one in the world can do anything without having a selfish reason for it," The Consultant said dryly. "And you're right. I do have a selfish reason for this."

She relaxed slightly. "I knew it."

"Getting you permanently out of Gotham is my reason. Not as if you have anything that keeps you attached to the place anyway." The Consultant admitted. "Now, do you want to remain in a metal cell, or do you want to go out and change the world?"

She stared at the portal, first, with slight hesitation she walked forward towards it.

"I–I don't know what to say."

"How about you save the hysterics for after you win the Nobel Peace Prize?"

She rolled her eyes, but without much heat to them. "Thank you," she said earnestly. With a deep breath, she stepped through the portal.

Ready to change the world.

XXXX

The portal closed with a hint of finality, leaving me standing alone in the metal room.

"I take it she's gone Master Zack?"

I nodded. "She is."

"And she does not suspect a thing?"

I shook my head, allowing a fantastic twitch of my lips. "She believed that she just woke up – and I didn't want anything from her except to consult her about ways to end world hunger."

I turned around to look at Nezumi. Nezumi looked back at me.

And I immediately burst out laughing. I couldn't help it. My ribs hurt and ached as I laughed harder than I'd probably ever done in my entire life. Oh gods, that was rich. That was the richest thing ever.

The reality, however, was far much more different.

"I must say Master Zack, I have never seen a more perfectly executed plan." Nezumi praised. "Time-Dilation effect placed on the Fort, to make a day inside the fort pass as a minute outside of it. Utilizing your Soul Conditioning on Poison Ivy to make her work on your drug without question, without hesitation, without complaint – bedding her numerous times, and then wiping her memories of everything and restoring her to default after she spent over six months working on what you needed." The Butler slowly clapped. "Ingenious."

I took a long, courteous bow. "Thank you – thank you –" I said with flourish, before standing back straight a grin on my face. "This, Nezumi, is what I mean about fighting smart rather than strong. As far as Ivy knows, The Consultant is a swell but somewhat confusing guy who never did a thing to harm her. She never worked for him. She never helped him bio-genetically engineer a drug that used aspects of her poisonous kiss in co-ordination with Scarecrow's fear venom. She never gave him blowjobs every other night, or let him fuck her senseless on top of a table."

"Or in front of an army of homunculi," Nezumi added.

"Or by a lesbian homunculi." I added as well, grinning. "I was being honest with her though. Green nipples aren't that attractive after you've jizzed on them several dozen times."

"Do tell Master Zack."

I almost wanted to roll my eyes at that comment. "One of these days, Nezumi – one of these days, I need to show you the pleasant glory that it sex. One of these days, I'll make sure you get laid."

"I can merely take someone from the Aphrodite Division and do so… or perhaps I could summon a succubi demon from hell?"

I rose an eyebrow at that. "You can summon demons from hell?"

"Master Zack, as I said, for you –"

"–You can do anything. I get it, I get it." I said with a wave. "In any case, I've spent six months - or one hundred and eighty days working on my super drug and screwing Ivy senseless. How much time has passed back in the normal world?"

"One-hundred and eighty minutes, Master Zack. That is – three hours."

I blinked. "Wow." I said, unsure of what else could convey my surprise. "Time Dilation is ridiculously useful. Why the hell didn't I ever just enter an instant dungeon and train for a few thousand years like I made you do?"

"Because you would be terribly, incredibly bored Master Zack." Nezumi said simply. "That much time passing spent on nothing but physical training would be the most boring experience ever experienced by a living being."

"I… actually can't argue with that."

Grinding was not fun in videogames. In real life, it was a hundred times less fun.

"Alright – now, let's see how far we've gone in completing the list."

The Evil Overlord List – Part I

It's time to fight smart and not hard. To avoid idiotic mistakes, and to take the smartest path to victory. Cheating? Underhanded tactics? Cowardly behavior? I think you mean – Common Sense.

Main Objectives:

Item One: Kidnap/Abduct Scarecrow and Poison Ivy to create the Super-Drug [Completed]

Item Two: Create an army of Homunculi [Completed]

Item Three: Have your army infiltrate the Police and have them distribute Super-Drug

Item Four: Makarov Dreyer Runs For Mayor [Complete]

Item Five: 'Reform' the Villains of Gotham

Bonus Objectives:

Allergic to Red: Make your army an antithesis to Stormtroopers and Redshirts

On Their Own Volition: Have any Villain/Hero join your cause without forcing them

Total Makeover-City Edition: Eliminate Gotham's Crime Rate/Turn Gotham to a Utopia

?

?

?

Rewards:

Title: God of Gotham

1.3m EXP

?

?

?

?

Failure:

Death/Incarceration

Anarchy of Gotham

"So, I'm done with items one, two, and four… all that's left is Item three and five. Item three is the easiest thing to do so far, with the Altair Division already in place – so, it'll just be Item Five left." I mused out loud, looking over the quest info again.

"Master Zack, if I may… what exactly is this Super-Drug that you required Poison Ivy's saliva and Scarecrow's Toxins to create?" Nezumi questioned, "Can anything created from such a volatile combination of actually be beneficial?"

I grinned, before I brought out a small packet filled with pills and rose it into the air. "I call it, the Neuro-Zenithal-Transformer. Or for short –"

Mastercraft Item:

NZT

Quality: Divine

A Part-Synthetic, Part-Plant based drug synthesized from a combination of the unique mind-altering saliva of Poison Ivy, the potent hallucinogenic poison of the mind of Scarecrow, and the altered ingredients and magical machinations of Zachariah Cabrera. The effects vary based on user and purpose, but however are focused on targeting the limbic system. Focusing on the hippocampus, amygdala, cingulate gyrus, thalamus, hypothalamus, and epithalamia. The effects may also stretch into the primary motor cortex and supplementary motor cortex.