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The World's Greatest Superheroes.....
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| JLI: The Return of BWA-HAH-HA! #9 - Febuary, Year 2 | by Bertram Gibbs |
Martian Manhunter |
Blue Beetle |
Booster Gold |
Plastic Man |
Ten
After all these years, a man flying across the Metropolis sky was a vision
that would hardly cause much of a reaction, due to the most obvious resident of
the city. But a flying man dressed in blue and gold, and a flapping red cape
(with gold and black striped borders), holding a man by his wrists, who was
dressed in two nicely contrasting shades of blue (thank you very much), being
followed by a gold egg would give some pause.
While Booster and the Beetle wore electric grins, the pair of eyes that held the
cape around Gold’s neck was serious and contemplative. Having no eye to speak
of, Skeets looked about as normal as the cyborg could.
Booster slid vertically along the wall of the LexCorp building, trying to stay
in the shadows of the alley. When the height was right, he released Beetle’s
wrists. Beetle landed silently on his toes, and watched eagerly as his comrades
touched down.
Plastic Man removed himself from Gold’s back and reformed, his hands on his
hips, back to the wall, fingers drumming on his belt. He stretched his wrist to
eye level. It was almost eight-thirty.
As the three men hugged the wall, Plas extended his eyes along the side of the
building and peered around the corner.
“That’s gross, man,” muttered Gold.
“Dummy up,” said Plas. “Yup. A limo is pulling up at the curb. Driven by the
redhead.”
In the front of the building, Mercy got out of Luthor’s limousine and ran around
to the rear passenger side and opened the door. On cue, Luthor, dressed in a
tuxedo, sauntered out of the exit, Hope staying close to his side. She followed
him to the open door and waited until he had gotten inside and was secure before
moving. Both she and Mercy scanned the streets, looking for anything out of the
ordinary. Satisfied, Hope jumped into the limo, next to Luthor, while Mercy
closed the door and ran back to the driver’s compartment and got inside as well.
In a few seconds, the car pulled away from the curb and slid slowly, like a
manta ray, down the street and around the corner.
“Showtime, Ladies,” Plas said, retracting his eyes. He looked over at Beetle,
who was adjusting the dials on a device he had strapped to his chest in
crisscrossed bands. He looked up, his infectious grin still plastered on his
face, and nodded.
“Checkpoint A,” Plas said, pointing down the alley.
The three men and the droid moved quickly and quietly along the wall until they
reached a door. A small and hardly noticeable camera was on the top of the
doorframe. Beetle reached into his belt and pulled a futuristic gun from a
holster and fired a white beam of light at the camera. He turned to Plas and
nodded.
Plas consulted his watch again. He pointed to Skeets, who moved into position,
hovering in front of the door. The men stood off to one side, Plas raising three
fingers and dropping them one by one. The door opened and a LexCorp guard
looked. As the man’s eyes widened at the sight of Skeets, Plas shot out his hand
and wrapped it around the man’s mouth at the same time Skeets shot out a bolt of
energy, rendering the man unconscious. Booster and Beetle ran and grabbed the
man before he hit the ground and placed him next to a dumpster.
Plas held up a fist and slinked his head through the doorway. His hand waved the
men forward as the rest of his body followed.
Inside was an empty hallway, with a desk off to the right. On the desk was a
computer, its monitor showing the outside of the building and the inside of the
hallway. Beetle dove to the computer and quickly typed in a few commands. He
then leaned back into the chair.
“That’s that,” he said. “All perimeter alarms are temporarily disabled, as are
the security cameras.”
Plas frowned. “And you’re sure . . . “ he began.
Beetle nodded again. “From the main security post, the guards will see the
outside and inside of the building; if and when they play the tapes back,
they’ll be watching a Happy Days marathon.”
Plas allowed a small grin. “Then let’s do it, boys,” he whispered. “Our target’s
only ninety-nine floors straight up.”
The three men padded down the hallway, stopping at a corner. Plas once more
extended his eyes around the bend, holding up two fingers. Two guards stood at a
desk near the elevator bay, entering data into a palm pilot.
“Did you see Enticement Atoll last night?!?” one guard asked
the other.
“Naw,” replied the other. “I was watching The Infiltrator. But I taped
it. How was it?”
The first guard shook his head. “Man, you should have seen the 10 that was
making moves on Timmy!” he exclaimed. “She was a plus-10, now that I think about
it. He tried to be cool about it, but when you have Diane in one hand and this
babe in the other, well . . . “ he smiled and leered, holding his hands up in a
helpless manner.
“Can’t wait to check it,” the other guard said with a matching smirk. He shook
his head. “But Diane’s hot, man.”
“This babe’s hotter!”
“Excuse me.”
Both men jumped and their heads snapped around at the voice. In front of them
was Skeets, hovering between them.
“I would have to agree with your partner,” the cyborg said. “The woman is a
hottie!” Skeets fired two bolts of energy at the center of the guard’s heads.
Before they could hit the floor, two hands the size of stretchers caught them on
the way down.
Booster and Beetle quick-stepped around the corner; Beetle tapping the UP button
on the elevator’s wall – Booster helping Plas drag the guards into a nearby
maintenance closet. By the time the guards were secure, the elevator door
opened. The four entered the car. Plas’ finger snaked around and tapped the
button for the 100th floor.
The car stopped on the 32nd, 40th, 63rd, 80th and 97th floor. By the time they
reached the 100th floor, the car was filled with nine unconscious guards. Skeets
erected a force shield to keep the door open while Beetle, Plas and Booster
dragged the guards out and stuffed them into another maintenance closet. The
closet was so full, Booster had to shoulder it closed.
“This isn’t going to look good on their résumé’s,” Plas said with a grin.
The three walked past the desks in the outer office and stood in front of the
massive double doors leading to Luthor’s office.
“Teddy,” Plas said with a sweeping bow, “If you would be so kind.”
Beetle walked over and knelt by the door handle and was about to work the lock
when the door slowly swung open on his well-oiled hinges. He looked up at his
partners.
“Think he left the door open accidentally?” he asked.
Plas shook his head. “Luthor’s so security conscious, him leaving the door open
is a little hard to swallow.”
“So now what?” Booster whispered.
Plas morphed his head into Looney Toon character, Elmer Fudd. “We be vwewy,
vwewy quiet,” he said stepping through the open door.
The others followed behind him, their eyes scanning the shadows in the dark
office. Plas pointed to his right and left, his hands taking the shape of
arrows. Beetle took one side of the office, while Gold took the other. Plas and
Skeets continued forward. They looked behind every chair, under the desk and
table and found nothing. They met at the large picture window overlooking
Metropolis behind Luthor’s workstation.
“Okay,” Plas said, scratching his head. “That was odd.”
“Guess Lex did leave the door open,” Beetle said, turning and sitting at the
workstation, flipping on the computer.
“Makes our work a little easier,” said Booster.
Plas smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Gentlemen,” he said, “we’re half way
there! We disabled the security system, got in, took out the guards, and reached
our target in record time!”
“We rule!” Booster said, pumping his fist in the air.
“We rock!” Beetle agreed, still tapping away on the keyboard.
“Yahoo,” Skeets said in a bored tone.
“And wait ‘til J’onn finds out that we did it without anyone being the wiser!”
added Plas, turning to look out the window.
“Boo!” said Nightwing, hanging upside down, his face directly in front of Plas’.
“GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!” screamed Plastic Man, his jaw thudding to the floor, his
tongue elongating in front of him, and his eyes bugged out of his head, causing
him to resemble a Tex Avery cartoon character.
This subtle reaction caused Beetle, Booster and Skeets to say in passing:
“GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!”
Grayson dropped, flipped and landed on his feet in front of the two men holding
each other, the rubbery puddle on the floor, and the gold droid hiding behind
them.
“Just the three idiots I’m looking for,” he said darkly.
“How do I look, Johnny?” Gardner asked. He was wearing a black tuxedo, cut to
display his sizable shoulders, and had his Warrior’s pin clipped to his lapel.
His shoes were at high-gloss, and his hair was immaculate; not a hair was out of
place.
“You look fine,” Stewart said vacantly, also dressed to the nines.
“Guy?”
“How’s my hair, Johnny? It don’t look too poofy, does it?”
“Your hair looks fine. Guy?”
“How ‘bout the tie, Johnny? Is it straight?” Gardner tugged the ends outwardly.
“I hate ties, but I hate bow-ties the most!”
“Your tie looks fine. Guy?”
“I mean, who wears a bow-tie anymore? No one that comes to Warriors, that’s for
sure!”
“Guy?”
“I mean that the slob could probably wear one, if he wanted to, but it ain’t
like he had to. And . . . . “
“Guy?”
“Yeah, Johnny?”
“Shut up.”
Gardner’s face went blank for a second, then gave Stewart a questioning
expression.
“Please?” added Stewart.
“Waddya tryin’ to tell me, Johnny?”
John sighed. He looked at the crowd being held back by the security ropes that
made a corridor from the sidewalk. His eyes glanced at the three spotlights that
made the street look like it was two in the afternoon, versus a little after
eight in the evening. The last time John remembered seeing lights that size was
from the news footage of the 1950s Hollywood movie premieres. He looked back at
Gardner.
“I’m trying to tell you, in the least hostile of ways, to shut up.”
“What?”
“You are driving me crazy, Guy,” John said. “You know I love you like a
brother.”
The two men stared at each other for a second.
“Adopted,” John amended. “And I share your concerns, but hearing them over and
over again every five minutes is making me consider doing you physical harm.”
“What?” Guy repeated.
Stewart sighed again. “If you, as you so eloquently phrased it, don’t let that
cut under your nose heal, I will kick your sorry butt up and down this block.”
His eyes suddenly lit up. “Or . . . “
Guy’s eyebrow went up. “Or, what?” he asked.
“Or I will tell the press your innermost secrets.”
Guy looked down at his friend and smiled, though he frowned slightly. “You
wouldn’t do that, Johnny,” he said. “We know each other too well.”
Stewart stared at Guy, an inscrutable smile on his lips. Guy’s smile, on the
other hand, faltered.
“Would you?” he asked.
“Guy,” he said after a few agonizing seconds, “Two words. Mister
Puffkins.”
Guy’s face paled. “You wouldn’t,” he rasped.
John’s inscrutable smile never left his face as he regarded Gardner silently.
Guy crossed his arms across his tuxedoed chest, his face scrunched up in a sulk.
“You can be one mean bastich sometimes, Johnny,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Stewart replied. “Just one of my more adorable qualities.”
“Well, put a lid on it,” Guy said, his face now full of goodness and light (for
Guy Gardner, anyway, meaning he was all teeth and a yard wide). “It’s showtime!”
Gardner nodded and the burly security men dropped the rope and people started
pouring into Warriors, each stopping to high-five Guy, or shake his hand, or
pause for a picture with him, or stop and congratulate him. Guy met one and all
with equal aplomb, his white bicuspids glinting in the light.
John Stewart from his seat next to the door, simply smiled at his friend’s good
fortune, and basked in the excitement of the evening.
“Hey, Gardner, you bum!” cried a voice in the crowd.
Guy, smile still in place, but a dark look filling his eyes, turned in the
voice’s direction.
And fell into a pair of deep purple eyes.
Ted Grant, wearing chinos and an open collared dress shirt, was walking down the
path with a woman that made Gardner’s internal temperature rise a few notches.
She was tall, maybe an inch or so taller than Grant, and brunette to the point
of a black hole. Her heart shaped face showed full moist lips and wide purple
eyes, with elegantly arched eyebrows. She was wearing a dress made from a
silk/spandex material that clung to every section of her body like a visible
layer of air. The top of the dress had a plunging neckline that plunged so far
down, Guy had to fight not to allow his eyes to land there (John Stewart had a
tougher time of it, since her ample chest was directly in his line of vision).
The end of the material was cut on an angle in order to show off her long well
toned legs.
It was at that exact moment that Guy began to hate Ted Grant.
“Guy Gardner,” said a grinning Grant, bringing Guy back to terra firma. “Meet my
friend, Selina Kyle.”
Guy forced his eyes to meet hers and was transfixed by her beauty.
“Friend, huh?” he said holding out her hand. When their skin touched, Gardner
felt an electric pulse shoot up his arm.
“A good friend.” she purred.
Guy nodded. “Okay,” he said. He forced his attention to Grant, who was staring
at Guy with a more than satisfied smile. “You suck,” he said with a sour smile.
“You know it,” replied Grant.
“Ms. Kyle,” Guy said, trying to regain footing. “For someone as beautiful as you
are, you have a strange taste in men.”
Kyle smiled wickedly. “You have no idea, Mr. Gardner,” she said.
“Call me, Guy,” he said. “Have a good time, you two. Grant. You and me gotta
talk.”
Grant held up both hands. “Mister Gardner!” he exclaimed in a haughty voice.
“You must remember, I am a gentleman! And gentlemen don’t say squat, if ya catch
my meanin’.”
“Grant, you’re a bum,” Guy said, slapping the man’s shoulder. “Same as I am. Get
your butt inside!”
Grant and Kyle walked past them and through the door. Once inside, Grant walked
Kyle to the bar and tried to flag down a bartender.
“What’s your poison?” he asked. When he heard no response, he turned to find the
lovely brunette scanning the faces of the crowd. He turned in the direction she
was looking, then back at her.
“Who’re you looking for?”
“Huh?” she said, blinking rapidly, then focused her full attention on the older
man. “I’m sorry, Ted,” she said. “What did you say?”
“I asked who you were looking for?”
“No one really,” she asked. “Just seeing if there was someone I knew happened to
show up.”
“A mug?” asked Grant.
Selina smiled a seductive smile and shook her head. “Three men, if you must
know,’ she said. “And it’s all business, if it makes you feel better.”
Grant frowned and shook his head, running his fingers through his graying mop of
hair.
“Yer a strange woman, Selina,” he said, a small smile playing at the corners of
his mouth. “Maybe that’s why I like you.”
“Feeling’s mutual, Big Guy,” she replied, putting her arm through his. “Could
you order me a white wine spritzer?”
“Sure thing, babe,” Grant said. As he attempted to hail a bartender, Kyle’s eyes
returned to the faces in the crowd.
In front of Warriors, Guy continued to grin and shake hands with the oncoming
guests. He glanced over to Stewart.
“Gorgeous babe,” he whispered.
“Oh, yeah,” Stewart said, still dabbing at the damp sections of his face with a
handkerchief.
After a few seconds of Guy making small talk, he sighed dejectedly.
“I hate Ted Grant, Johnny,” Guy said.
“So do I, Guy,” Stewart agreed in an equally depressed voice. “So do I.”
“Table that. Luthor’s here,” Guy said, pointing with his chin.
Pulling up at the curb, was a shining black limousine. As soon as the driver’s
door opened a micro-centimeter, camera flashes lit the night. Mercy moved back
to the passenger door and opened it.
No one got out.
For five seconds.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
Time stood still.
Then bounding out of the compartment exuding boundless energy, was Lex Luthor.
And, in the sports parlance, the crowd went wild.
Flanked on either side of the man was Mercy and Hope, allowing their boss enough
space to schmooze, but allowing the distance between them to be very noticeable.
Luthor grinned, his deep green eyes sparkling in the flashing lights. He moved
forward (actually, They moved forward; almost as one), waving to
the crowd on either side of him, at times, singling out a person here and there.
“The man’s a showman,” whispered Guy.
“The man’s a reptile,” replied Stewart.
“I was thinking more shark,” said Gardner.
“I sit corrected,” muttered John.
“But you have ta admit that the guy has contacts,” Gardner said, pointing a
well-manicured finger at John. “And with a ninety-three percent chance of
building off of tonight, Johnny, we’re ‘tyrofo’ up the freakin’ Yellow Brick
Road, with a nice payoff at the end. It’s a win-win situation!”
Stewart had to agree with the logic. After all, Skeets gave it a ninety-three
percent chance of success. But then there was the Blue Beetle, Booster Gold and
Plastic Man to consider. In his mind, that dropped the success rate by ninety
percent. He glanced up at Guy, who had his well-practiced grin on his face. He
looked ahead and saw Luthor grinning like a loon, but whispering something to a
well-dressed man behind the rope barrier.
John began to poke Gardner in the leg. When Guy looked down, John reached into
his jacket pocket and handed him a small jeweler's box.
“And this is?” Gardner asked suspiciously.
“Something I meant to give to you earlier,” he answered.
Guy’s frown deepened. He glanced up and gauged the distance between the
multi-billionaire and the box. He opened it and his eyes widened, as did his
smile. He released a low awestruck whistle.
“Johnny,” Guy sighed. “This is nice.”
“Nice?” Stewart asked in an irritable tone. “A hand-made ruby W, this beer
drinking slob calls nice?”
“You know what I mean.”
Stewart grinned and held out his hand. “Yeah, you moron,” he said. “I do.”
They shook hands and Guy quickly switched the red lacquer W to the ruby one.
“Is it straight?”
John looked up. “Yes. It’s straight.”
“How do I look?”
“Want to ask Mister Puffkins?” asked John.
Before Guy could respond, Luthor was upon him, hand outstretched, a wide sincere
smile on his face. Guy reached out and clasped the other man’s hand and pumped
it.
“Nice grip there, Lex,” Guy said, joining the man in an obvious photo-op,
smiling pretty for the camera.
“You expected anything less?”
“This is my friend and architect, John Stewart,” Gardner said. Luthor leaned
forward and shook John’s hand
“A pleasure, Mr. Luthor,” John said.
“Please,” Luthor grinned. “Call me Lex!”
“If you like. Lex,” said Stewart.
“May I call you John?” Luthor asked.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” said Stewart.
Hope and Mercy’s faces looked impassive. Luthor wore a bemused expression. Guy
was mouthing curses upon John Stewart’s immortal soul.
“People might get the wrong impression and think we’re friends,” Stewart added.
Then grinned.
A wave of relief washed over Guy when he saw Luthor smiling back. Luthor moved a
step in front of Gardner and raised his hand to quiet the crowd. Guy glanced
down at Stewart, who shrugged his shoulders.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “This afternoon, Guy Gardner called me and
asked if I wanted to come to the opening of Warriors – Metropolis. And that one
question stunned me; let me tell you. The idea . . . the entire concept, that I
would not attend one of the biggest events to hit Metropolis in years, was
unheard of. I was almost insulted that he would have thought that I would not be
here to join in his celebration. And, I must confess . . . “
Luthor paused, hand raised, finger extended, lips slightly parted, eyes scanning
the crowd, who were leaning forward in expectation.
“If Guy didn’t call me,” he said finally, “I was going to crash the party!”
The placed roared with laughter and cheers. The only ones who did not have a
smile glued to their faces were Mercy, Hope, and John Stewart. Guy stepped back
closer to his friend.
“Yuck it up,” he whispered to John from the side of his mouth.
“Remember who he is!” hissed Stewart.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Stewart?”
Both men turned to see Hope standing next to them.
“And if there was, what do you intend to do about it?” asked John in a deadly
tone. “Give me a sponge bath and make it better? Well, if that’s the case, my
dear, get the loofah and start scrubbing.”
She didn’t respond, but Hope and Stewart locked eyes for several seconds. She
turned on her heel and returned to her position behind Luthor, who was still
pumping the cheering crowd.
“What the hell are you doing?” Gardner asked, staring at his friend in
disbelief.
Stewart stared at Guy and shook his head. “I’m not going to spell it out for
you, Guy,” he said softly. “I didn’t think I had to.” He turned his wheelchair
around and rolled through the entrance.
“Where are you going?” Guy whispered harshly.
“Jogging!” Stewart rasped over his shoulder and disappeared inside the club.
Guy felt like he should go after his friend. That was until Luthor grabbed him
by the arm, put him into position next to him, and placed a strong arm around
his shoulders.
Both men waved and grinned for and at the screaming crowd.
To Be Continued...
