NOT The World's Greatest Superheroes.....
JLI: The Return of BWA-HAH-HA! #17 - October, Year 2	by Bertram Gibbs

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Martian Manhunter

Blue Beetle

Booster Gold

Plastic Man

Around ten-thirty, Mercy and Hope walked off of the elevator. Their noses were immediately assaulted by the mixture of smells that came from their desk. They looked at each other and groaned. They slowly opened the double doors and found Luthor, sitting on the floor, staring into space, chewing on a slice of pizza.

“Uh, Mr. Luthor?” said Hope with trepidation.

“Hmmm?” he said vacantly.

“We couldn’t find them.”

“That’s nice,” he replied in that same vacant voice.

“We checked every hotel in the city,” said Mercy.

“And a few on the outskirts of town,” added Hope.

“But we still couldn’t find them,” Mercy said.

“Good job,” Luthor replied.

The women glanced at each other from the corners of their eyes.

“Mr. Luthor?” Mercy asked softly.

“Hmmm?”

“Uh, the food?”

“Oh, yes,” he said through a mouthful of food. “There’s plenty. Have some if you’re hungry.”

“But . . . “ began Hope.

“It’s cold now,” he said softly. “You’ll have to heat it up a tad.”

“Uh, thanks, Mr. Luthor,” they replied.

They backed away to the open door. Mercy was about to close it behind them.

“Uh, Mr. Luthor?” she asked.

“Hmmm?”

“What exactly are you eating?”

“Pineapple and anchovy pizza,” he said in a singsong voice. “With extra cheese. Want some? I have plenty.”

“No, Mr. Luthor,” she said, feeling her stomach shift position. “That’s all right.”

“Oh,” he said absently. “Okay. Goodnight.”

“Uh, goodnight, Mr. Luthor,” she said closing the door behind her.

Hope was staring at the wreckage that was her monitor.

Mercy sat at her desk and stared into space for the rest of the evening.

THURSDAY - 11:45 PM

At a booth in Warriors - Metropolis, Guy Gardner sat sipping from a bottle of beer with Ted Grant, who was doing the same. At the end of the booth sat John Stewart in his wheelchair, who was drinking a cup of tea. Most of the dinner and drink crowd had left the club, leaving a few stragglers at the bar. Guy looked up and using his chin, pointed out a man sitting by himself at the bar, sipping a clear liquid from a tall glass. He had blonde hair, dark sunglasses, and wore a yellow running suit and black sneakers.

“Second night he’s been here,” muttered Gardner. “And all he drinks is club soda. The mug can’t even spring for suds!”

“Leave him alone, Red,” smiled Grant. “He ain’t hurtin’ no one.”

“I mean,” continued Guy, now on full rant, “sure he may be in some sort of training of some kind, but the clown just sits there, says nothing to nobody, drinking club soda.”

“Guy,” John groaned. “Give it a rest.”

“A couple of hotties even came up to him, making a pass,” exclaimed Gardner. “And what does he do? Nothing! Absolutely, positively nothing! Talks to them, but doesn’t spring for a drink! And he could’ve scored big time! Naw, he just lets them walk away and drinks his soda!”

Grant grinned. “Maybe he’s . . . you know,” he said raising his hand flat and turning it over and back.

“Well, he’s in the wrong place if he’s looking for that kinda action!” groused Gardner.

“Maybe he likes you,” muttered Stewart into his cup.

“I heard that, Johnny!” snapped Guy.

“You do make a dashing figger, Red,” Grant said softly.

“And don’t you start either!”

“Someone change the subject, please!” groaned John.

“So you heading back to the Big Apple tomorrow, Red?” Grant said on cue.

“Yeah,” said Guy. “Where I belong. I’m sorta tired of this town. Brought me nothing but grief!”

“I wouldn’t say that, Guy,” Stewart said, placing the cup in the saucer on the table. “You made a lot of money with the opening. You secured a nice clientele.”

“You certainly got a lot of publicity decking Luthor,” added Grant.

Guy raised his eyes towards the Heavens. “That, for one, I didn’t need!”

Grant shot a punch to Gardner’s shoulder. “Oh, shaddup, Red!” he snarled smiling. “That one punch made the news! You realize you did something ol’ Spitcurl’s wanted to do for years?”

“Yeah, I know,” Guy replied, not feeling any joy in the fact. “But I want people to come to Warriors because it’s Warriors. Not to take a look at the slob who punched Teflon-Dome.”

“Still,” said Grant, “you made quite an impression on these Metropolis rubes.”

“It’s all those idiots fault!” Guy said sliding out of the booth and folding his arms across his muscular chest. “Ninety-three percent my butt! I ought to take Skeets out back and take a hammer to it!”

“You know, Guy?” Stewart grinned. “They might have been right after all.”

“Okay, you so smart, Johnny,” Gardner sneered. “Care to tell me how?”

Stewart thought for a second. “That one punch put you on the front page of the Daily Planet. It got big news coverage. Reporters from all over have been ringing the telephone, sending emails, and faxing you, trying to get an interview.”

“Not to mention the chicks,” added Grant.

“Yes,” sighed John. “How could I have forgotten that?”

“It’s a win-win situation, Red!”

“Yeah,” groused Gardner. “Wonderful. All I know is if I never see those twerps again, it’ll be too soon!” He angrily shoved his hands in his pockets.

A red boa constrictor suddenly appeared out of nowhere and wound itself around Gardner’s legs, hips, and chest, pinning his arms to his sides. Guy’s eyes bulged and turned in every conceivable direction, finally landing on Bugs Bunny’s face.

“Is you is, or is you ain’t my baby?” the cartoon character said. His lips enlarged to the size of footballs and kissed Guy wetly, covering the entire lower half of his face. Gardner’s eye bulged with rage as the cwazy rabbit made a ‘MMMMMMMMMMM-WAH!’ smacking sound.

Plastic Man slid off of him and reformed in the booth.

“Hmmm,” he said, making a sour face. “Someone get me a beer to wash this taste from my mouth!”

Guy began spitting and wiped his face off with his sleeve.

“That’s it!” he screamed. “I’m gonna kill you!”

Grant slid out of the booth and dove between them, falling against Guy laughing his head off. “Calm down, Red!” he chortled. “He was only joking!”

“Let me go, Grant,” roared Gardner. “I’m gonna joke this imbecile into the infirmary!”

“Did someone say they were ordering beer?” asked Beetle, striding down the aisle.

“Get a pitcher!” called Booster from behind. “Get three!”

“Oh, everlasting joy,” muttered Skeets, holding up the rear. “’When Intoxicated Super-Heroes Collide’. Soon to be a program on FOX.”

“YOU!” screamed Gardner. He rushed forward and Grant literally lifted him off of the floor, catching him in mid-charge.

“I’LL MURDER THE THREE OF YOU!” bellowed Gardner.

“Calm down, Guy,” said John, still calmly sipping from his cup.

“CALM DOWN?!?!” he raged. “These three twits almost ruined my livelihood! Came close to getting me arrested for assault! Almost closed my club before it even opened good, and you’re telling me to calm down????”

“Why, yes,” Stewart said calmly. “Yes, I am.”

All the anger left Guy. He stopped struggling in Grant’s arms and stared at his friend, thoroughly perplexed.

“Guy?” asked John. “Name another super-hero who punched out Lex Luthor?”

Guy thought for a second. “Uh, Bats, I think,” he said.

“Like I said, Red,” grinned Grant from over his shoulder, who still held Gardner aloft by his waist, “you got one on the big guy, and you’re on par with the Bat!”

That concept made Guy’s frown evaporate slightly. “Okay,” he said quietly. He looked over his shoulder. “Ted? Put me down.”

“Yer not gonna try anything, are ya?” he asked.

“Naw,” Guy replied. When his feet touched the ground, he looked at Beetle, Booster and Plas, who were now seated at the booth. “Look, you crumbs,” he said aiming a stiff index at them, “You got one beer each and you’re outta here. Got me?”

“Sure thing, Guy,” they said in the most insincere singsong voice.

“I mean it,” he said. “You clowns are more trouble than you’re worth.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” said a voice from over his shoulder.

All turned around and saw the solitary man who was sipping on his soda step forward out of the shadows. But this time, he wore a mask and had pulled off the blonde wig. Grayson removed the running suit to reveal his black uniform.

“Uh, oh,” whispered Booster.

“Uh, hi, ‘Wing,” grinned Plas. “Been waiting long?”

“Wunnerful!” groaned Gardner. “This is all I need.” He turned to Grayson and stepped between him and the seated heroes. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been sitting there, in that same seat, for two whole days, and cheaped me out by drinking nothing but club soda?”

“I was waiting for them,” Grayson replied, not taking his eyes off of the three men. “And I don’t drink while on I’m on duty.”

“Yeah, maybe so,” said Gardner, his anger returning. “But you had to come in here? In disguise?”

“I didn’t want any trouble with you.”

Gardner grinned nastily. “Oh, you didn’t want any trouble, huh? ‘Fraid to lock horns with the Warrior.”

“Here he goes again,” sighed Stewart.

“Guy?” spoke Grant.

“Keep out of this Teddy,” he snarled, snapping his head around to the man to his right. He returned his focus to Grayson. “You afraid of me, kid?”

Grayson’s jaw clenched as he tried to force back the wave of anger.

“No, Gardner,” he said softly. “I am not afraid of you.”

“And you didn’t even offer me the courtesy, in my own place, of saying a ‘hello’?” asked Guy, his eyes locked on Grayson. “I don’t know how the Bat raised you, but you’re showing stones you don’t even have.”

Grayson swallowed and turned to Plas, Beetle and Gold, who were staring with rapt attention.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Now.”

Gardner moved in front of Grayson, blocking his view of the men.

“And don’t you ever,” hissed Guy, “ever, turn your back on me! You may have these morons shivering in their tights, but you ain’t the Bat!”

“Guy?” Grant said again, with a little more urgency.

“I said, keep out of this, Teddy!” Gardner said.

“I’d listen to Mr. Grant if I were you,” Grayson suggested darkly.

“But you’re not me, are ya Wingnut!” Gardner said, folding his arms across his chest. “You ain’t the Bat! You can’t even hold a candle to him! You’re just a Dark Knight wannabe! And that means you can’t tell me what to do, punk!”

“Guy?” Grant repeated for a third time, partially closing his eyes and looking away at the same time.

“For the last time, butt out, Ted!” Guy roared. He looked back at Grayson, who, except for the grinding of his teeth, hadn’t moved an inch. “Oh, wassa matta, Wingnut?” Guy asked in a childish tone. “Did I hurt yer widdle feelings? Am I making the widdle boy upset? Does widdle Wingnut want Unca Guy to change his tights? Did you make a messy? Do you . . . “

And that was as far as he got, because Grayson fist shot out of nowhere and connected with his jaw. Guy Gardner; Warrior, stared at Grayson in shock for three point two seconds before his eyes rolled back in his head and he tipped backwards like a felled oak.

Stewart sighed deeply and took another sip from a fresh cup of tea the bartender brought over a minute before.

Grant shook his head and knelt next to his drinking buddy.

Beetle and Booster stared open-mouthed at the fallen Gardner. Plas’ did the same, but his eyes went around his goggle and enlarged to the size of basketballs. They slowly turned as one in Grayson’s direction and, like hell raising students suddenly caught by their instructor, quickly sat forward with their hands clasped in front of them.

“The only one to do that was Batman,” whispered Beetle in awe.

“Really?” Plas whispered back.

“Oh, yeah,” Booster agreed. “One punch and Guy was out for hours.”

“May I be of assistance?” asked Skeets.

“Be my guest,” said Grant.

Skeets hovered over Gardner’s unconscious form and a bolt of electricity shot him right between the eyes. Guy’s eyes began to flutter.

“Thanks, pal,” Grant said.

“Always a pleasure sending a few hundred volts into an unconscious super-hero,’ Skeets replied. “It’s what I exist for.”

“Hey, Red?” called Ted Grant.

“Hmmm?” mutter Gardner.

“Did I ever mention that I trained the Bat how to box?” he asked.

“Noooo,” replied Guy woozily. “I would have remembered that.”

“So that would mean . . . “

“Bats taught ‘Wing,” finished Gardner.

“Which would mean . . . “

“I should’a kept my big mouth shut,” said Guy.

Grant stood and shook Grayson’s hand. “See!” he said grinning. “He can be taught!”

Grayson stood over Guy and held out his hand. Gardner’s eye focused, grabbed the offered hand and was pulled to a standing position.

“Wanna beer?” he asked.

Grayson smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.”

Guy turned to Stewart. “Order for me, Johnny,” he asked. “I feel like sittin’ for a few.” Gardner dropped into the booth next to Booster while John ordered Grayson’s beer.

“Now that that’s over with,” began Grayson, staring at Beetle, Booster and Plas, who had pushed themselves as far into the corner of the booth as they could go, “Care to enlighten me with what you’ve been doing for the past two days?”

Gold and Beetle quickly ran down the myriad of traps laid at the LexCorp Building, the tortures inflicted on Lex Luthor, and their brief, but meaningful meeting with Professor Kingston. By the time they finished, Gardner was wide-awake and listening intently, laughing and grinning like a kid. The information even had Grayson chuckling. Plas sat in the corner quietly smiling to himself.

“Plas,” said Grayson, leaning forward so he could look directly at the man. “You’ve been unusually quiet over there.”

“Just thinking, ‘Wing,” he said. “Just thinking.” His eyebrows raised and he gave the men a smile. “Boys,” he said. “Tomorrow’s the day Kingston was to fork over the S.T.A.R. Lab stuff, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Grayson said, frowning a bit, “What’s your point?”

“Well,” began Plas. “I think I’ve got the perfect punchline for Mount Baldy. Something that will keep him busy all morning.”

“Like?” asked Gardner.

“A long time ago, in a movie studio far far away,” Plas said while refilling their mugs with cold beer, “there was a man named Irving J. Thalberg and he ran Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Now the Marx Brothers wanted to talk to Irving about their contract, but Irving didn’t want to see them. So they . . . “

A half a pitcher of suds later, Warriors - Metropolis echoed with the sound of ‘BWAH-HA-HA! BWAH-HA-HA!’

FRIDAY - 12:50 AM

Superman touched down lightly on the Moon’s surface and sighed, staring at Earth. He was only away for a few days, but he missed sleeping in his own bed. He missed Lois more. He wanted to simply fly directly to their condo and put his arms around her; kiss her, hold her, but knew he best check in at the JLA Watchtower, if only to find out what J’onn’s surveillance team uncovered. If Hamilton’s message was anywhere near accurate, Luthor’s involvement with S.T.A.R. Labs meant trouble. And with Luthor involved, forewarned was forearmed. He pressed the panel on the Watchtower’s wall, opening a hidden door and walked inside.

His long time friend and associate, Diana, the Wonder Woman, was calmly seated cross-legged at the Watchtower’s console, pulling monitor duty. Her beautiful face was relaxed and tranquil, her eyes scanning all reports on the newswires for emergencies that would require Justice League assistance. Superman remembered the times they would sit on the Moon’s surface, her wearing a breather, he without, just taking a few minutes of uninterrupted relaxation, and stare at the millions of stars in space.

That was the one thing about Diana he could rely on, her calm center.

“Hi, Diana!” he called, stepping across the room. “How’s . . . “

The next thing the Man of Steel knew, she was across the room with a speed that could have given the Flash a moment of pause, had grabbed the front of his shirt, spun on her heel and flung him across the room. He landed hard against the eight-foot thick titanium reinforced wall, his body making a Superman-sized dent in its surface, and fell to the floor.

Before he blinked, she had grabbed him by his S with one hand and lifted him off of his feet, pulling his shirt out of his tights.

“HOW COULD YOU?!?” she screamed shaking him like a maraca, her face a mask of rage. “YOU! OF ALL PEOPLE!!! HOW COULD YOU HAVE TOLD J’ONN TO USE THOSE . . . THOSE CRETINS?!?!”

“Who? What? How? When?” Superman stammered.

Her blue eyes narrowed. “Do not play me for the fool, Kal.” She hissed dangerously.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Superman exclaimed.

“YOU LIE!”

Superman unconsciously fiddled with the front of his shirt, suddenly feeling exposed.

“Diana!” he cried. “I really don’t understand!”

She roared and drew his fist back.

A large gloved hand caught her by the wrist.

Fortunately, her reflexes overrode her anger, and her head snapped around to see Batman staring back at her.

“Stop,” Batman said firmly.

“You have no understanding of . . . “ Diana began.

“Yes,” Batman replied. “I do.”

She stared at him, her face flushing. She flexed a muscle in her arm.

“Don’t make me stop you,” Batman said darkly.

The threat made her eyes widen and fully regard the visage before her. She took a step forward, unconsciously pulling Superman with her.

“Diana,” he said, “he doesn’t understand.”

She stopped and stared at the Dark Knight.

“But I do,” he added. “And J’onn is innocent as well.”

Her fist relaxed and she dropped her arm. Diana looked at Superman and let him go. Once his feet hit the floor, he quickly tucked his shirt in.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on here?” he asked.

“How long have you been here?” Wonder Woman asked. “Aside from J’onn, I thought I was alone in the Watchtower.”

“You were,” Batman said flatly. “I just arrived.”

“How?” she asked. “I didn’t hear the teleporter go off.”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Hel-lo?” Superman said, poking his head between his partners. “Will one of you please tell me what’s going on?”

Batman didn’t reply. He simply walked silently to the conference room. He was followed by the other two heroes.

“I think you should sit down, Clark,” he said over his shoulder.

“Look, Bruce,” said Superman. “Cut the mystery and suspense. If you have something . . . where’s the table?” he asked staring at the circle of chairs surrounding a large empty space.

“Orbiting Pluto,” Batman replied. “Sit, Clark.”

Clark sat.

Batman explained in great detail. Terse, but detailed. Superman stared shocked and unblinking through it all. Diana angrily tapped the toe of her boot against the hard Watchtower floor until Batman muttered “Stop”, which she did.

“Go see J’onn,” Batman said.

Before Superman could reply, Batman held up his hand for silence.

“Batman here,” he said. He listened for a few seconds. “Understood,” he said flatly. “Batman out.” He looked up at Superman. “You’re still here.”

“But . . . “ began Superman.

“Go see J’onn,” repeated Batman. “I’ll take care of . . . them.”

The way he said that one word made the warrior princess shiver.

“But . . . “ began Superman again.

“And be at LexCorp at eleven tomorrow morning,” the Dark Knight added.

Superman frowned. “Bruce. You know I hate when you put on that attitude with me.”

“Yes,” he replied.

Realizing the conversation was going nowhere, Superman walked to J’onn’s quarters, trying to get his head around the story Bruce told him. As inconceivable as most of the information was, knowing the participants, it was more than plausible.

“J’onn?” Superman said as he knocked on the door of the Martian Manhunter’s private quarters. “It’s me. Kal.”

“Come,” J’onn replied in an absent tone.

Superman opened the door, bringing the hall light into the shadowy room. He stared in shock at the heads that hung from the walls and the ceiling of the room. The Booster Gold and Blue Beetle heads wore that stoic expression on super-hero action figures. But every third head was a grinning Plastic Man. The sea of smiles made him cold. J’onn stood with his hands at his sides in the room’s center, his red eyes glowing dimly. Superman slowly walked inside.

“J’onn . . . “ Superman began.

J’onzz reached across the room and grabbed Superman by the front of his shirt with both hands and lifted him off the floor, pulling his shirt from his tights again.

“Kal!” J’onn exclaimed. “I had nothing to do with this! I did as you asked and they used the teleporter and they went to Metropolis to tackle Luthor, I tried to contact them, but they never answered, then Power Girl showed up and she threw the table through the wall and it’s not my fault, you must believe me and Nightwing went down there to hunt them down and he couldn’t find them and I want their heads on spikes, Kal, I want that so very much . . . “

“What is this thing with my shirt today?” Superman groaned aloud.

“. . . I want to boil them in oil, and I know the JLA creed and my own moral beliefs prevents me from killing anyone, but I want to and, KAL! I’M OUT OF CHOCOS, KAL! I’M OUT OF CHOCOS!!!”

“J’onn,” Superman said softly. “Let go of my shirt. Please?”

J’onn released Superman, who tucked his shirt back into his tights.

“I’m sorry, Kal,” he said softly. “I’ve been under a lot of stress these days.”

“It all right, J’onn,” Superman said. “Bruce told me everything. I don’t blame you. It was taken out of your hands.”

“But, Kal . . . “

Superman smiled kindly and placed two strong hands on the Martian’s muscular shoulders.

“Bruce is taking care of them,” he said. “Go get some rest.”

“Are they going to be in an incredible amount of pain, Kal?” he asked. J’onn was smiling. “Well, of course they must be,” he said, answering his own question. “Bruce is handling things.”

“Get some rest, J’onn,” Superman said, backing out of the room closing the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As Superman walked down the hallway, he could hear J’onn singing ‘Don’t Cry For Me, Argentina’ in his room.

He walked past Batman and Wonder Woman and headed for the Watchtower’s exit.

“Kal,” said Diana. “Are you . . . “

“Diana,” Superman said in a vacant tone. “Bruce. I am going home, so don’t try to stop me. I am going home and kiss my wife and tell her I love her very much. Then I’m going to go to the refrigerator and grab a bowl of Ma’s homemade peach ice cream and sit on the floor of my closet, eat it and debate if I’m ever coming out again. Yes, I know I will eventually, but right now I’m going to pretend I’m not. Good night!”

He walked out the door.

Batman and Wonder Woman stood there staring through the main view port, watching the Man of Steel fly through space, ignoring the meteors, asteroids and other space debris bouncing off of his indestructible hide as he made his way to Earth.

To be continued…