ISSUE #3
Written by John Cheese
January 2018
Written by John Cheese
January 2018
"THE OPENING MOVE"
Metropolis
Superman felt the Red Witch's magic run through his body like rivulets across a dry and dusty plain. His attacker’s last statement whirled round his brain. But that's all they were; words with no power behind them, something that was a relief and a curiosity as he shook himself and the Red Witch's echo out of his head.
"I will not destroy a city for you," he stated, his voice calm, but definitely radiating power and authority.
"But good cursed Ser, you will," the Red Witch replied as she studied the 'Man of Steel' standing before her. While to the untrained eye he looked the same as he ever had, to one able to see the mystical field surrounding all living things he looked like a bomb ready to detonate. "You see, my curse hath saturated your cells with magic. It would kill a normal man, Ser, and would take a sleeping hamlet with it."
Superman lunged for her, only for the witch to repel him with a sparkling burst of energy. "Cursed Ser, your death doth not come immediately, but instead comes soon, and with it a city doth die."
"Remove the spell now!" Superman ordered a touch of fear infiltrating his voice.
"I will not, Good Ser. Be warned you are a man of Earth, not Krypton. Leave this world if you can, but my spell will pull you back to the ones you doth hold precious." Superman's eyes glowed red as he got ready to use his heat vision, only for the energy to streak backward and remain attached to his eyes like some parasitic copepod. "You would put your darling dame and Ser in waiting at risk, something you would never do in desperation, let alone malice."
She sighed as she planted a kiss on his cheek before her body collapsed into a puddle of blood, sparks of white lightning dancing like pond skaters on the surface of a lake.
Racking his brains, Clark went through his options. A return to the Fortress of Solitude, a return to the Hall of Justice, or a last-ditch effort to find a magician who could help him. All seemed like long shots and then suddenly a very different voice rung through his head. There was a solution, one person who might be able to save him. Taking to the air he streaked west, towards the setting sun and hopefully a release from the dark spell placed on him by the Red Witch. And all he had to do was cross America before the spell that affected him reached its climax.
# # # # #
Gotham City
The funnel cloud exploded as Superman flew through it and he made his way across Gotham City. The resulting dissipation caused a wind shear to radiate out across the city. GCPD helicopters rocked slightly from the disturbance. One aircraft however, didn’t rock. It was designed to take much worse conditions in its stride, but even it had limits, and the skyscape over Gotham was going to test it tonight.
“Was that…” An elderly yet still strong British-accented voice asked over the radio of the aircraft.
“Yes, Alfred, that was Clark, but it doesn’t look like he’s staying,” Batman replied, grave tension in his voice as he piloted the Batwing across the bay towards the source of the flickering symbol painted across the dark menacing clouds. “How is the scan for residual Phantom Zone energy coming?”
“It’s reduced, Sir. There seems to be no sign of the person or object that came through into our world and the spot it chose to emerge into has no cameras nearby.” The Batwing closed on the GCPD Headquarter. “But it was after the brief surge that this inclement weather appeared. We have already had thunderstorms and hailstones, and now there is talk about issuing a tornado warning.”
“Has the evacuation plan for this event been put into action?” Batman asked as an extension of the clouds above the GCPD building began to touch down.
“The emergency forces are initiating it now, but it won’t be ready if the simulations the Bat Computer has produced are accurate,” Alfred replied as the forming funnel cloud touched down with a roar.
The rotating cloud ripped the far corner of the GCPD building off before slamming down into the road toward the bay. Evading the storm, the Batwing banked round the damaged building before coming into a hover as more funnel clouds descended.
“Alfred, get Robin, Nightwing, that girl in the Narrows, and anyone else in Gotham to start aiding the police in leading people underground,” Batman ordered as one of the funnel clouds slammed down into the airport. The jets it crashed through exploded until the tornado became a spinning fire storm headed for the terminal building. “Get Lucius on the radio. We need something to stop this from going any further,” he added as one of the GCPD helicopters turned and began to flee away from the tornado heading towards it.
“I’ll do my best, Sir, but communication is bound to become sporadic,” Alfred replied as Batman gunned the Batwing towards the tornado.
The Batwing was designed to handle rough weather, and as per Batman’s specifications it had been built to act as a drone launching platform when pressed into that role, two aspects that would keep the aircraft from being torn apart and help it find out what had caused these storms to form. Opening fire, the missile-like drone streaked away from the Batwing and into the tornado where it functioned for four seconds before it lost contact, either due to electrical interference or, more likely, because it had been ripped apart. Ultimately it hadn’t been a fruitless gesture, as the drone’s brief trip inside the tornado spoke volumes about what was going on.
The storms were not natural; each one had an energy signal unseen in nature. Their positioning was ideal for striking amenities, such as transport hubs, hospitals, bridges, and other targets designed to incite terror, and when new tornados formed, there was a flow of energy to a single central point over the city as shown by the funnel cloud touching down meters away from Elliot Memorial Hospital. The evacuation had barely begun and the hospital and staff inside would be needed once the storm had blown over.
Activating the afterburners on the Batwing, Batman streaked toward the hospital, trying to block out the terror rising from the city as tornados and waterspouts tore their targets apart. Then something struck the Batwing. The control surfaces on the wings sparked with lightning as a loud metal clang from the dorsal side of the jet sounded. Seconds later the collision alarm sounded, too late for a warning, but at least the sensors got a good image of the Batwing’s attacker.
“Alfred, who is that?” Batman asked as the data was sent back to the Bat Computer. Pulling hard on the stick, he sent the Batwing into a spin, dislodging the armoured assailant from the hull. Advancing on Elliot Memorial Hospital, Batman got a brief glimpse of his attacker jetting along behind him before another lightning strike hit the Batwing, this time striking the afterburners. The lightning hadn’t come from a cloud however. It had come from the mercenary attacking him and it was a good bet that he was behind the tornados tearing the city apart.
“Master Bruce, I have a positive ID on our friend. He calls himself Mister Twister, AKA Bromwell Stikk, a former low-level enforcer for Intergang who stumbled on an exo-suit and used it to break debtors. He was later hired to steal a cyclogenesis engine from Star Labs for his employers, but they ended up dying in a freak tornado. After that he vanished until today.”
Mister Twister shot up to intercept the Batwing, latching onto the wing. Gritting his teeth, Batman fired off one of the foam retardant missiles loaded under the wing, the launch causing Mister Twister to swing up onto the hull.
“Entertaining indeed,” a metallic voice announced as Mister Twister fired another lightning blast into the Batwing, this one shorting out the instrument panel inside the cockpit. “I was wondering what challenge would rise to face me. So far you disappoint me, Batman.”
A small funnel cloud descended straight through the Batwing’s right wing, sending it into a spiralling descent. Grimacing, Batman set a crash vector into the jet’s landing assist system before pulling the canopy eject lever. As he was catapulted upward, another small tornado lanced down, sending the chair plummeting hard into the asphalt.
“Sir, are you there?” Alfred called as the Batwing slammed into the base of the tornado heading for Elliot Memorial Hospital and detonated, the pressure wave ripping apart the power of the storm and causing it to dissipate.
“Fine, Alfred,” Batman groaned as Mister Twister landed at the other end of the street.
“No,” Twister boomed as he slammed his fist into the road, the electrical discharge sparking the gas-main he had breached, causing the entire street to explode in a show of debris and melted tar. Taking to the air he scanned the destruction before looking out to a small craggy island situated in the bay. “You are not.”
# # # # #
Central City
Barry Allen, AKA the Flash, was the fastest man alive, at least on most days.
But not today. He barely acknowledged the red and blue blur that tore over the city as he chased the arching lightning through Danville, his reflexes keeping him from colliding with the oncoming traffic. Reaching an intersection, his prey juked left, towards New Brighton, slowing down just enough for Barry to close the gap. As he did, his opponent pulled a gun on him and fired, the effect of the velocity at which the shooter was running causing the bullet to fragment, the shrapnel tearing through Barry's skin as he charged through it. The pair were now approaching the station, with the mystery speedster in the lead leaping over the waiting train and onward across the tracks toward the airport. Following, Barry pushed himself, gaining ground as his quarry ripped through the chain-link fence toward a fuel tanker. Tackling his opponent, Barry watched as the speedster exploded into a halo of photons.
"It's a hologram," Barry wheezed, seconds before something slammed into him, his attacker running her hand across the fuel tanker, causing it to detonate. Getting to his feet, Barry realised he'd seen his attacker before only seconds earlier. Stretching her arms out was Mayfly, a syringe in her arm, her fingers on the plunger as she injected herself.
"But I'm all too real," Mayfly purred as she removed the syringe from her arm. "It's really a pleasure to face off with you. Usually I cruise along on V5, maybe V6," she added as Barry rushed her, only to dodge out his way and fire a shot with her handgun, the bullet glowing purple and vanishing. "But for you I'm breaking out the nines."
She darted away towards downtown Central City. "Catch me if you can," she purred provocatively as she sped away.
Giving pursuit, Barry began to gain ground on Mayfly, only to watch her speed up, a sonic boom forming on her wake and sending shards of glass falling towards the amassed pedestrians enjoying the night life the city had to enjoy. Springing into action, Barry intercepted every shard of falling glass in only two seconds before slamming it into a recycle bin.
"Impressive," Mayfly said as she sprinted down an intersecting street. Reacting, Barry sidestepped her, grabbed her arm, and threw her back down the road she'd come down. Following his fleeing foe, Barry had just enough time to see Mayfly phase through the tarmac and into the subway tunnels below the city, both speedsters hurtling the wrong way down the track towards an oncoming train.
Shooting Barry a smirk, Mayfly vibrated through the train, as the gap between the two speedsters and the oncoming locomotive decreased at an alarming rate. Moving to follow her, the tunnel glowed purple and the bullet reappeared, slamming into his spine and staggering him so he slowed a few miles per hour, enough to make sure the train slammed into him. The engine buckled from the sheer force of the human missile that had hit it.
"Oh my...!" Barry yelled before a hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him down the track and out into an open-air section of the railway. Bracing himself, Barry used his inertia to bring Mayfly to a sudden stop, her body rolling across the tracks, until she came to a stop, blood flowing freely from her nose.
"Got to love those quantum bullets," Mayfly wheezed as she wiped her nose before removing a syringe from her belt and injected herself. "They are both here and not here, kind of a weaponised Schrodinger's Cat if you like."
"What do you want, Mayfly?" Barry asked as he staggered towards Mayfly, the assassin doing likewise.
"Money, more V9, a cure for my haemophilia, and your head for my wall," Mayfly wheezed as lightning arched around her legs, the same phenomenon happening around her opposite number. "Rest assured, it's not personal…at least not for me that is."
"Thanks," Barry replied as the two speedsters lunged at each other, before chasing down the road toward a construction site. Trading blows in a tornado of red lighting, Barry felt something sharp jab into his arm and disengage before coming to a stop in the middle of the site. Running in again, on a takedown vector, Mayfly got a hand on his shoulder before being thrown into a stack of girders.
"Looks like I clipped you," Mayfly stated as Barry jettisoned the syringe jabbed into his arm.
"What did you inject me with?" Barry yelled.
"Velocivorus eobardi," Mayfly replied as Barry walked over to where she was lying. "It's a bacterial phage that feeds on the Speed Force at an alarming rate. In fact, it kills faster than anything I've ever seen if it's not fed; it drains the life out of the host." She added as Barry felt the world spin, and fell to his knees.
"My advice," Mayfly stated as she stood up and kicked Barry onto his back, before shooting a bullet into his right leg, "keep on running."
She left Barry to stagger to his feet and speed off in the opposite direction out of town. He couldn't risk spreading the bacteria to anyone else. He needed somewhere he could run in peace until either he came up with a solution or death finally caught up with him.
# # # # #
Star City
A light projecting an arrow onto the skyline flickered as something rapidly flew through the beam, disrupting the image for a brief second. Not that the people it was designed to attract were looking at that, but rather the three mutilated bodies hanging from the overhead traffic lights. Beneath them someone had set up a small TV connected to a generator and left a tape hanging out of the VCR; a note addressing the crime scene to the Green Arrow.
“I know these people,” Oliver stated as he walked the length of the gory display. “They are all medium level players in Star City’s underworld. Greg Osborne was a drug dealer who works with China White’s faction, Monique La Tour’s the local Intergang Rep, and John Deleon runs a Star City extension of the 100. But as bad as they are, I would prefer to see them in a court of law, not hanging here.”
“The question is who was responsible for this?” Black Canary asked.
Oliver took a brief look at his girlfriend and saw no sign of sympathy for the people killed here. It was almost as if she was a different person to the woman he’d met all those years ago. Had her time with the Justice League away from home shut her heart? It was a terrifying prospect, but ultimately one that had to wait until after whoever had sent this obvious message had been dealt with. Pushing the tape into the recorder with the end of his bow, Oliver watched as static filled the screen before forming into a reptilian face.
“Good evening, Mister Arrow. Let me introduce myself. The name’s Killer Croc and all the rackets in this city are mine now,” the figure on the TV stated as the camera zoomed out to reveal a row of bodies hanging from hooks in what looked like a slaughterhouse. “I hope you’re happy with my attempts to clean up this city. I mean, I’m used to being up to my neck in filth back in Gotham, but here, hell the mud just walks around like they got nothing to fear.”
“Who you calling mud?” one of the bodies in the video, possibly Osborne, groaned, his words causing Croc to slam his fist into the man’s stomach, the force of the blow sending a spray of blood out the gangsters’ mouth and nose.
“These city boys have some moth on them. Just a shame mine’s bigger. Their men now work for me, and right now they are working on making your city feel like home,” Croc stated as he walked down the line of corpses to a desk with a machete lying against it. Picking it up, he walked back down the line and stopped at the strung-up body of La Tour and moved her head, the gang leader whimpering slightly. “Not my home back in Gotham, of course; my pad back in the bayou.”
He placed a finger over La Tours lips. “Gonna be a real nice place, too,” he added as he slipped his finger into La Tour’s mouth and ripped her lower jaw clean off of her skull.
“You freak, you think we’ll roll over and let you take our place!” Deleon snapped as he struggled to free himself from the hook he was attached to. “I swear I’m going to...umph.”
He stopped as Croc slammed the machete into the man’s chest and pulled down, his strength causing the blade to rip through bone, muscle, and fat until it emerged out through his groin, the sheer ferocity of the attack leaving the bloody blade buckled and Deleon’s lower left torso hanging onto the rest of his body by a few tendons.
“These city boys, they need to learn some manners,” Croc stated as he ran his fingers up the machete’s blade before throwing it the floor with a loud clang. “I’m a friendly guy when it comes down to it, so I’ll give you and that beautiful lady friend of yours the same chance to stop me as I give Batman. That’s if you’re brave enough to take me up on my offer, of course,” he added as he shot a toothy smile to the camera. “So, come down to world. I’ll be waiting for you, boy.”
The screen went black, the recording ended. Looking up at the bodies for a moment, Oliver felt a feeling of dread rise in his stomach, one that had long lain dormant since the death of Prometheus. Now, it was back with a soul gnawing vengeance. Killer Croc needed to be stopped. He just wasn’t sure that he could stop at a simple arrest for the savagery he had brought to his city or if when pushed again, it would be the killer who would be killed.
TO BE CONTINUED
Superman felt the Red Witch's magic run through his body like rivulets across a dry and dusty plain. His attacker’s last statement whirled round his brain. But that's all they were; words with no power behind them, something that was a relief and a curiosity as he shook himself and the Red Witch's echo out of his head.
"I will not destroy a city for you," he stated, his voice calm, but definitely radiating power and authority.
"But good cursed Ser, you will," the Red Witch replied as she studied the 'Man of Steel' standing before her. While to the untrained eye he looked the same as he ever had, to one able to see the mystical field surrounding all living things he looked like a bomb ready to detonate. "You see, my curse hath saturated your cells with magic. It would kill a normal man, Ser, and would take a sleeping hamlet with it."
Superman lunged for her, only for the witch to repel him with a sparkling burst of energy. "Cursed Ser, your death doth not come immediately, but instead comes soon, and with it a city doth die."
"Remove the spell now!" Superman ordered a touch of fear infiltrating his voice.
"I will not, Good Ser. Be warned you are a man of Earth, not Krypton. Leave this world if you can, but my spell will pull you back to the ones you doth hold precious." Superman's eyes glowed red as he got ready to use his heat vision, only for the energy to streak backward and remain attached to his eyes like some parasitic copepod. "You would put your darling dame and Ser in waiting at risk, something you would never do in desperation, let alone malice."
She sighed as she planted a kiss on his cheek before her body collapsed into a puddle of blood, sparks of white lightning dancing like pond skaters on the surface of a lake.
Racking his brains, Clark went through his options. A return to the Fortress of Solitude, a return to the Hall of Justice, or a last-ditch effort to find a magician who could help him. All seemed like long shots and then suddenly a very different voice rung through his head. There was a solution, one person who might be able to save him. Taking to the air he streaked west, towards the setting sun and hopefully a release from the dark spell placed on him by the Red Witch. And all he had to do was cross America before the spell that affected him reached its climax.
# # # # #
Gotham City
The funnel cloud exploded as Superman flew through it and he made his way across Gotham City. The resulting dissipation caused a wind shear to radiate out across the city. GCPD helicopters rocked slightly from the disturbance. One aircraft however, didn’t rock. It was designed to take much worse conditions in its stride, but even it had limits, and the skyscape over Gotham was going to test it tonight.
“Was that…” An elderly yet still strong British-accented voice asked over the radio of the aircraft.
“Yes, Alfred, that was Clark, but it doesn’t look like he’s staying,” Batman replied, grave tension in his voice as he piloted the Batwing across the bay towards the source of the flickering symbol painted across the dark menacing clouds. “How is the scan for residual Phantom Zone energy coming?”
“It’s reduced, Sir. There seems to be no sign of the person or object that came through into our world and the spot it chose to emerge into has no cameras nearby.” The Batwing closed on the GCPD Headquarter. “But it was after the brief surge that this inclement weather appeared. We have already had thunderstorms and hailstones, and now there is talk about issuing a tornado warning.”
“Has the evacuation plan for this event been put into action?” Batman asked as an extension of the clouds above the GCPD building began to touch down.
“The emergency forces are initiating it now, but it won’t be ready if the simulations the Bat Computer has produced are accurate,” Alfred replied as the forming funnel cloud touched down with a roar.
The rotating cloud ripped the far corner of the GCPD building off before slamming down into the road toward the bay. Evading the storm, the Batwing banked round the damaged building before coming into a hover as more funnel clouds descended.
“Alfred, get Robin, Nightwing, that girl in the Narrows, and anyone else in Gotham to start aiding the police in leading people underground,” Batman ordered as one of the funnel clouds slammed down into the airport. The jets it crashed through exploded until the tornado became a spinning fire storm headed for the terminal building. “Get Lucius on the radio. We need something to stop this from going any further,” he added as one of the GCPD helicopters turned and began to flee away from the tornado heading towards it.
“I’ll do my best, Sir, but communication is bound to become sporadic,” Alfred replied as Batman gunned the Batwing towards the tornado.
The Batwing was designed to handle rough weather, and as per Batman’s specifications it had been built to act as a drone launching platform when pressed into that role, two aspects that would keep the aircraft from being torn apart and help it find out what had caused these storms to form. Opening fire, the missile-like drone streaked away from the Batwing and into the tornado where it functioned for four seconds before it lost contact, either due to electrical interference or, more likely, because it had been ripped apart. Ultimately it hadn’t been a fruitless gesture, as the drone’s brief trip inside the tornado spoke volumes about what was going on.
The storms were not natural; each one had an energy signal unseen in nature. Their positioning was ideal for striking amenities, such as transport hubs, hospitals, bridges, and other targets designed to incite terror, and when new tornados formed, there was a flow of energy to a single central point over the city as shown by the funnel cloud touching down meters away from Elliot Memorial Hospital. The evacuation had barely begun and the hospital and staff inside would be needed once the storm had blown over.
Activating the afterburners on the Batwing, Batman streaked toward the hospital, trying to block out the terror rising from the city as tornados and waterspouts tore their targets apart. Then something struck the Batwing. The control surfaces on the wings sparked with lightning as a loud metal clang from the dorsal side of the jet sounded. Seconds later the collision alarm sounded, too late for a warning, but at least the sensors got a good image of the Batwing’s attacker.
“Alfred, who is that?” Batman asked as the data was sent back to the Bat Computer. Pulling hard on the stick, he sent the Batwing into a spin, dislodging the armoured assailant from the hull. Advancing on Elliot Memorial Hospital, Batman got a brief glimpse of his attacker jetting along behind him before another lightning strike hit the Batwing, this time striking the afterburners. The lightning hadn’t come from a cloud however. It had come from the mercenary attacking him and it was a good bet that he was behind the tornados tearing the city apart.
“Master Bruce, I have a positive ID on our friend. He calls himself Mister Twister, AKA Bromwell Stikk, a former low-level enforcer for Intergang who stumbled on an exo-suit and used it to break debtors. He was later hired to steal a cyclogenesis engine from Star Labs for his employers, but they ended up dying in a freak tornado. After that he vanished until today.”
Mister Twister shot up to intercept the Batwing, latching onto the wing. Gritting his teeth, Batman fired off one of the foam retardant missiles loaded under the wing, the launch causing Mister Twister to swing up onto the hull.
“Entertaining indeed,” a metallic voice announced as Mister Twister fired another lightning blast into the Batwing, this one shorting out the instrument panel inside the cockpit. “I was wondering what challenge would rise to face me. So far you disappoint me, Batman.”
A small funnel cloud descended straight through the Batwing’s right wing, sending it into a spiralling descent. Grimacing, Batman set a crash vector into the jet’s landing assist system before pulling the canopy eject lever. As he was catapulted upward, another small tornado lanced down, sending the chair plummeting hard into the asphalt.
“Sir, are you there?” Alfred called as the Batwing slammed into the base of the tornado heading for Elliot Memorial Hospital and detonated, the pressure wave ripping apart the power of the storm and causing it to dissipate.
“Fine, Alfred,” Batman groaned as Mister Twister landed at the other end of the street.
“No,” Twister boomed as he slammed his fist into the road, the electrical discharge sparking the gas-main he had breached, causing the entire street to explode in a show of debris and melted tar. Taking to the air he scanned the destruction before looking out to a small craggy island situated in the bay. “You are not.”
# # # # #
Central City
Barry Allen, AKA the Flash, was the fastest man alive, at least on most days.
But not today. He barely acknowledged the red and blue blur that tore over the city as he chased the arching lightning through Danville, his reflexes keeping him from colliding with the oncoming traffic. Reaching an intersection, his prey juked left, towards New Brighton, slowing down just enough for Barry to close the gap. As he did, his opponent pulled a gun on him and fired, the effect of the velocity at which the shooter was running causing the bullet to fragment, the shrapnel tearing through Barry's skin as he charged through it. The pair were now approaching the station, with the mystery speedster in the lead leaping over the waiting train and onward across the tracks toward the airport. Following, Barry pushed himself, gaining ground as his quarry ripped through the chain-link fence toward a fuel tanker. Tackling his opponent, Barry watched as the speedster exploded into a halo of photons.
"It's a hologram," Barry wheezed, seconds before something slammed into him, his attacker running her hand across the fuel tanker, causing it to detonate. Getting to his feet, Barry realised he'd seen his attacker before only seconds earlier. Stretching her arms out was Mayfly, a syringe in her arm, her fingers on the plunger as she injected herself.
"But I'm all too real," Mayfly purred as she removed the syringe from her arm. "It's really a pleasure to face off with you. Usually I cruise along on V5, maybe V6," she added as Barry rushed her, only to dodge out his way and fire a shot with her handgun, the bullet glowing purple and vanishing. "But for you I'm breaking out the nines."
She darted away towards downtown Central City. "Catch me if you can," she purred provocatively as she sped away.
Giving pursuit, Barry began to gain ground on Mayfly, only to watch her speed up, a sonic boom forming on her wake and sending shards of glass falling towards the amassed pedestrians enjoying the night life the city had to enjoy. Springing into action, Barry intercepted every shard of falling glass in only two seconds before slamming it into a recycle bin.
"Impressive," Mayfly said as she sprinted down an intersecting street. Reacting, Barry sidestepped her, grabbed her arm, and threw her back down the road she'd come down. Following his fleeing foe, Barry had just enough time to see Mayfly phase through the tarmac and into the subway tunnels below the city, both speedsters hurtling the wrong way down the track towards an oncoming train.
Shooting Barry a smirk, Mayfly vibrated through the train, as the gap between the two speedsters and the oncoming locomotive decreased at an alarming rate. Moving to follow her, the tunnel glowed purple and the bullet reappeared, slamming into his spine and staggering him so he slowed a few miles per hour, enough to make sure the train slammed into him. The engine buckled from the sheer force of the human missile that had hit it.
"Oh my...!" Barry yelled before a hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him down the track and out into an open-air section of the railway. Bracing himself, Barry used his inertia to bring Mayfly to a sudden stop, her body rolling across the tracks, until she came to a stop, blood flowing freely from her nose.
"Got to love those quantum bullets," Mayfly wheezed as she wiped her nose before removing a syringe from her belt and injected herself. "They are both here and not here, kind of a weaponised Schrodinger's Cat if you like."
"What do you want, Mayfly?" Barry asked as he staggered towards Mayfly, the assassin doing likewise.
"Money, more V9, a cure for my haemophilia, and your head for my wall," Mayfly wheezed as lightning arched around her legs, the same phenomenon happening around her opposite number. "Rest assured, it's not personal…at least not for me that is."
"Thanks," Barry replied as the two speedsters lunged at each other, before chasing down the road toward a construction site. Trading blows in a tornado of red lighting, Barry felt something sharp jab into his arm and disengage before coming to a stop in the middle of the site. Running in again, on a takedown vector, Mayfly got a hand on his shoulder before being thrown into a stack of girders.
"Looks like I clipped you," Mayfly stated as Barry jettisoned the syringe jabbed into his arm.
"What did you inject me with?" Barry yelled.
"Velocivorus eobardi," Mayfly replied as Barry walked over to where she was lying. "It's a bacterial phage that feeds on the Speed Force at an alarming rate. In fact, it kills faster than anything I've ever seen if it's not fed; it drains the life out of the host." She added as Barry felt the world spin, and fell to his knees.
"My advice," Mayfly stated as she stood up and kicked Barry onto his back, before shooting a bullet into his right leg, "keep on running."
She left Barry to stagger to his feet and speed off in the opposite direction out of town. He couldn't risk spreading the bacteria to anyone else. He needed somewhere he could run in peace until either he came up with a solution or death finally caught up with him.
# # # # #
Star City
A light projecting an arrow onto the skyline flickered as something rapidly flew through the beam, disrupting the image for a brief second. Not that the people it was designed to attract were looking at that, but rather the three mutilated bodies hanging from the overhead traffic lights. Beneath them someone had set up a small TV connected to a generator and left a tape hanging out of the VCR; a note addressing the crime scene to the Green Arrow.
“I know these people,” Oliver stated as he walked the length of the gory display. “They are all medium level players in Star City’s underworld. Greg Osborne was a drug dealer who works with China White’s faction, Monique La Tour’s the local Intergang Rep, and John Deleon runs a Star City extension of the 100. But as bad as they are, I would prefer to see them in a court of law, not hanging here.”
“The question is who was responsible for this?” Black Canary asked.
Oliver took a brief look at his girlfriend and saw no sign of sympathy for the people killed here. It was almost as if she was a different person to the woman he’d met all those years ago. Had her time with the Justice League away from home shut her heart? It was a terrifying prospect, but ultimately one that had to wait until after whoever had sent this obvious message had been dealt with. Pushing the tape into the recorder with the end of his bow, Oliver watched as static filled the screen before forming into a reptilian face.
“Good evening, Mister Arrow. Let me introduce myself. The name’s Killer Croc and all the rackets in this city are mine now,” the figure on the TV stated as the camera zoomed out to reveal a row of bodies hanging from hooks in what looked like a slaughterhouse. “I hope you’re happy with my attempts to clean up this city. I mean, I’m used to being up to my neck in filth back in Gotham, but here, hell the mud just walks around like they got nothing to fear.”
“Who you calling mud?” one of the bodies in the video, possibly Osborne, groaned, his words causing Croc to slam his fist into the man’s stomach, the force of the blow sending a spray of blood out the gangsters’ mouth and nose.
“These city boys have some moth on them. Just a shame mine’s bigger. Their men now work for me, and right now they are working on making your city feel like home,” Croc stated as he walked down the line of corpses to a desk with a machete lying against it. Picking it up, he walked back down the line and stopped at the strung-up body of La Tour and moved her head, the gang leader whimpering slightly. “Not my home back in Gotham, of course; my pad back in the bayou.”
He placed a finger over La Tours lips. “Gonna be a real nice place, too,” he added as he slipped his finger into La Tour’s mouth and ripped her lower jaw clean off of her skull.
“You freak, you think we’ll roll over and let you take our place!” Deleon snapped as he struggled to free himself from the hook he was attached to. “I swear I’m going to...umph.”
He stopped as Croc slammed the machete into the man’s chest and pulled down, his strength causing the blade to rip through bone, muscle, and fat until it emerged out through his groin, the sheer ferocity of the attack leaving the bloody blade buckled and Deleon’s lower left torso hanging onto the rest of his body by a few tendons.
“These city boys, they need to learn some manners,” Croc stated as he ran his fingers up the machete’s blade before throwing it the floor with a loud clang. “I’m a friendly guy when it comes down to it, so I’ll give you and that beautiful lady friend of yours the same chance to stop me as I give Batman. That’s if you’re brave enough to take me up on my offer, of course,” he added as he shot a toothy smile to the camera. “So, come down to world. I’ll be waiting for you, boy.”
The screen went black, the recording ended. Looking up at the bodies for a moment, Oliver felt a feeling of dread rise in his stomach, one that had long lain dormant since the death of Prometheus. Now, it was back with a soul gnawing vengeance. Killer Croc needed to be stopped. He just wasn’t sure that he could stop at a simple arrest for the savagery he had brought to his city or if when pushed again, it would be the killer who would be killed.
TO BE CONTINUED