NOT The World's Greatest Superheroes.....
JLI: The Return of BWA-HAH-HA! #19 - December, Year 2	by Bertram Gibbs

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Martian Manhunter

Blue Beetle

Booster Gold

Plastic Man

At 10:55, Superman flew over the massive LexCorp Building, wondering if there was some other place he should be. The night before, after he finished his ice cream, it took several minutes for Lois to extricate him from their closet. Afterwards, he lay with his head in her lap, trying to explain how a simple surveillance mission could go wrong. She had tried her best to calm him down, stroking his super-tight shoulders and playing with his S-curl.

Needless to say, he didn’t have a good night’s sleep.

He showered, shaved, dressed as Clark Kent and went into the Planet, logged in several stories to placate White. Then a while later, using his super-ventriloquism, created a mock emergency on the police frequency scanner and left to handle the ‘story’. He changed as he ran up the steps to the roof and headed for his appointment at the LexCorp Building.

Never one to use the front door to Luthor’s office, he always hovered in front of his huge picture window on the top floor of the building. Luthor would always turn and give him one of two looks; smug or angered at his presence, then press a button on his desk, retracting the Plexiglas panel into the wall, begrudgingly allowing him entrance.

When Superman peered through Luthor’s window, he went into a slight case of shock and was hit by the giggles at the same time.

Luthor sat there staring into space, a pointed party hat on his head. Aside from the red goop that stained his skin, Superman could see the two black eyes and assorted bruises that covered his face. He moved forward and tapped the pane.

Luthor’s eye looked in his direction and he stabbed a button on his desk.

A ceiling panel opened and gallons of green slime dropped on him.

Then the window panel retracted.

Superman entered, being careful not to step into the thick green liquid and cast his eyes around the office. On the projection television, Bugs Bunny was asking a policeman if he would put his ‘good friend, Rocky’ in a stove. His blue eyes trailed across the inflatable dinosaur, the balloons, the streamers, the confetti, the glowing fields that covered the office door, then he looked over his shoulder and performed a comic double-take.

In front of the fireplace he saw Guy Gardner, the Blue Beetle, Booster Gold, Luthor’s henchwomen, Mercy and Hope, and . . . Lex Luthor, playing cards.

“Got a three?” asked Hope.

“Go fish, sweetcakes!” grinned Gardner.

Hope cursed softly under her breath and pulled several cards from a stack in front of them.

“Should’ve went for the five,” muttered Mercy, sitting next to her partner. “He wouldn’t have had the five.”

“Girlfriend,” Hope whispered as she pulled card after card from the stack, in search for the elusive five card. “Shut up.”

Superman slowly turned to face his nemesis, wincing at his condition. He walked forward.

“Lu . . . “ he began.

“Where were you?” he whispered. “Where have you been?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your . . . “

“How could you leave me here with . . . them!” he said extending his arm so sharply, droplets of green flew off.

Superman dodged the slime and walked forward. Luthor shot out of his seat and grabbed the front of his shirt with both slimed fists.

“NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!” he cried.

“Again with the shirt,” sighed the Man of Steel.

“HATE AND DESPISE ME ALL YOU WANT! DO TO ME WHAT YOU WILL! BUT KEEP THESE LUNATICS AWAY FROM ME!” he cried. Superman gingerly pulled Luthor’s hands from his shirt.

“Please,” whimpered Luthor. “I’m begging you. And you know how much that takes out of me. Please!”

Superman looked down and saw Luthor’s green handprints on his chest. He stepped back at light speed, leaving the slime hovering in the air for a second before dropping to the floor.

“Problems, Blue?” asked the duplicate Luthor coming up from behind.

“AAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!” screamed Luthor falling back into his chair.

Superman regarded the second Lex. “Uh, no,” he said. He pointed at his face. “Would you mind?”

The duplicate Luthor smiled. He walked over to the cringing original, who was staring at the man standing above him.

“You’ve been wanting to know who I am, haven’t you?” he asked.

Luthor nodded quickly, droplets of slime dripping from his chin.

The duplicate shook his head rapidly. “Understand now, Baldy?”

Luthor’s eye widened. “You’re . . . you’re Tom Cruise?” he whispered.

Cruise looked at his reflection in the window’s tinted glass.

“Sorry,” he said.

Cruise’s head deflated like a pierced balloon and receded into the suit, making Luthor scream again. The suit fluttered like a flag in a wind and emptied, falling to the floor. Luthor’s eye followed suit. Next to the suit was a red and flesh-toned puddle, which suddenly pulled itself back to cohesion.

Plas stood in front of him with his hands on his hips.

“TA-DAAA!” he cried.

Luthor’s mouth moved, his teeth gnashed and small eeping sounds escaped it.

“Well,” Plas said, clapping his hands together. “We’ve done enough damage here. “Boys?”

The men folded their chairs and gathered their equipment and headed towards the front door.

“Oh, and Baldy,” said Plas, extending his head towards the man, “If I were you; and if I was, I’d wear a rug, don’t even think of a revenge scheme.”

Luthor’s eye rolled in his socket.

“’Cause if you do,” smiled Plas, his face turning into Arnold Schwarzenegger’s, “We’ll be back.”

His face reformed and he walked past the two staring women, pausing only to grab their hands and kiss their knuckles.

“Later, my lovelies,” he said. “If you want an eeen-teresting evening, I’m sure you’ll figure a way to find me. Remember; they don’t call me Plastic Man for nothing. Knowwatimean?” he said Groucho-ing his eyebrows.

“Heading back to the base?” asked Superman.

“Not just yet,” said Plas. “Got one more thing to do though.”

“And, uh, thanks for . . . thanks,” said Superman.

“Don’t mention it, Blue,” he replied. “Or try to. Always a pleasure!”

The force fields around the television and the door vanished and the men and cyborg left.

Superman turned to Luthor who sat there staring.

“I’d clean this place up, Lex,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “A little too garish for your image.”

He rose into the air and flew out of the window, the sound of his chuckling ringing in Luthor’s ear.

Mercy and Hope looked at their employer, not knowing what to say.

The telephone on the desk rang. By the fourth ring, Luthor picked it up and held it to his ear.

“Yes?” he whispered.

“Overseas operator,” said a voice. “Collect call from Mr. Pull.”

“Pull?” Luthor asked.

The chair he sat in leaned back then shot forward, catapulting him across the room.

And into a chair, where he landed upside down, his momentum carrying him and the chair several feet to crash into the narrow edge of the open door.

Spread-eagled.

At that very moment, Mercy’s cell phone rang. With the speed of a quick-draw, she had the cell open and against her ear.

“Speak,” she barked.

“What the hell is going on over there?!?!?!” cried a voice on the other end. “I’ve been trying to get through for the last hour and all I get is recorded TV theme songs! I can’t stand Leave It To Beaver!”

“What is it, Provencher?” Mercy said softly, her sudden headache climbing into critical. “This is not a good time.”

“Well, you better make it a good time to hear this!” Provencher snapped.

And Mercy listened. Hope gazed at her cohort and watched the woman’s face fall in shock. She nodded and nodded and hung up the cell, sticking it into her pocket (first missing) and turned to look at Hope.

“What is it?” Hope asked.

“Lousy timing,” Mercy replied and walked over to Luthor, who had his hands between his legs, his face a beaming dizzy smile, his good eye rolled in its socket. His head was surrounded by a corona of confetti and streamers.

“Mr. Luthor?” Mercy said softly.

“Hmmmm?”

“More bad news,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “That was Provencher; our plant at S.T.A.R. Labs. He said that Professor Kingston was picked up by the FBI in regards to the stealing and selling of confidential S-Lab information. The destruction of the GeneEx Device was carried through. The Lab is presently investigating what was stolen and sold to whom.” Mercy waited for a response of some kind, got none and continued. “I’ll take the necessary steps to insure non-involvement.”

“I’ll take care of the system deletions,” Hope said, tapping information into the main database. Her finger hit the enter key.

FILE NOT FOUND, said the error message block.

She entered the delete protocols to cleanse the system of Kingston again, slower this time.

FILE NOT FOUND, repeated the error message block.

Hope frowned and did a file search. She stood bolt upright and stared in disbelief at the monitor.

“What’s wrong now?” moaned Mercy.

“They’re gone,” she said.

“What’s gone?” Mercy snapped. “Kingston’s files? Well, aren’t they . . . “

“I mean everything’s gone,” Hope said. “All the S.T.A.R. Lab files. All the files with any reference to S.T.A.R. Labs. It’s all gone!”

Mercy glanced at the monitor felt her throat constrict. The screen showed Luthor’s global map, and one by one, flags with red, gold and blue borders replaced the little L flags that covered the surface of the map. She was about to say something that would be, at that moment, deemed meaningless, when she heard it.

When they heard it.

It had started out as a soft chuckle, the kind associated with mild amusement. They it grew and swelled and increased in volume and took on a life of its own. Mercy and Hope stared in shock at their employer, their boss.

Who was laughing.

And for the very last time, through the speakers in the offices of the LexCorp Building (conveniently transmitted from the main office speakers), one could all hear the strident caterwaul of,

‘BWAH-HA-HA! BWAH-HA-HA! BWAH-HA-HA!’

FRIDAY - 6:29 PM

Grayson stood outside Barbara Gordon’s building, wearing sharply pressed denim jeans, a gray sport jacket and black turtleneck, flowers clutched tightly in hand. After hearing from Superman how the morning at the LexCorp Building went, he called Babs to let her know the mission was accomplished and hoped she still wasn’t angry with him. He still questioned the conversation he had with her earlier. It seemed odd.

“Make a wish, Grayson,” she asked.

“Meaning?”

“If you had a wish, regarding my appearance this evening, what would it be?”

Grayson didn’t need to think too hard, a smile forming on his lips. “You wearing that blue dress.”

She chuckled. “The one I have to pour myself in, with the plunging neckline?” she asked.

“Yup!” he said grinning. “That’s the one!”

“Thinking you’ll get lucky, Grayson?” she asked.

“Hey,” he said unable to remove the smile from his face, “I got only one wish, right?”

“Consider it done,” she said. “My turn now.”

Grayson, who was in his apartment in Bludhaven, scanned the suits hanging in his closet. “Name it and you got it,” he said.

“I always wanted to see you with blonde hair and a mustache,” she said.

Grayson held the telephone out at arm’s length before bringing it back to his ear. “How’s that again?”

“Tonight,” she said, “I’d like to see what you look like with blonde hair and a mustache.”

“That’s a weird request,” he said.

“You get that dress, I get the hair and lip.”

“Is there a reason for this you’re not telling me?” he asked.

“You backing out, Grayson?” she asked. “You know how that dress clings to my hips and my . . . “ she left open coyly.

“Nope!” he responded quickly. “You got it. Six-thirty?”

“Be on time, lover boy,” she said. “I might need help zipping myself up.”

“How about I come over there now?” he asked.

“How about you be here on time.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said. “Babs?” he asked. “You’re still not mad at me, are you?”

“Get here ten seconds after six-thirty and you’ll find out,” she said.

The line shut down and Grayson did cartwheels and somersaults around the apartment. He had a tiring week dealing with those lunatics and he needed a night out. And Babs seemed in a very playful mood today, so things were changing for him in a very positive way.

He dug into the makeup box he took from the Bat Cave and took a while looking for the right shade of blonde for the evening. He colored his hair and spirit gummed a matching mustache to his upper lip.

The concept of playing ‘dress-up’ with Barbara excited him more than he thought. He checked the reservations at the restaurant, and reconfirmed the time the show at the Kane Theater started. Everything was going great.

Grayson and Barbara had only seen the television advertisements of the show, Sid Sapphire and the Indigo Boys, but they were odd enough to attract their attention.

Three men wearing black jumpsuits and matching gloves, their bald heads and faces painted a brilliant blue. From the reviews, the men said nothing throughout the show, but danced, did acrobatics, played an array of PVC pipes and kettle drums whose skins were covered in multi-colored Day-Glo paint (spraying the first two rows in rainbows), writing amusing notes to the audience with paint guns, among other visual oddities.

As bizarre as the concept was, the show still attracted a large following. Grayson called the box office and found out that the show was sold out for five months, which meant getting tickets was on the far side of impossible. Thanks to one of Bruce’s many connections, he picked up two seats in the box overlooking the stage (he made a mental note to thank Bruce for making the call).

So here he was, a small breeze lifting his gold locks from his forehead, standing in front of Babs’ building, feeling like he had the world on a string.

Before he could press the button, the front door opened and out rolled Barbara Gordon, wearing the painted-on dress Grayson liked so much.

“Close your mouth, Grayson,” Barbara said seductively. “You’re giving flies a landing strip.”

If only it was that easy. Grayson couldn’t close his mouth because he couldn’t believe how beautiful Babs looked. Her dress, which more of a gown, was a dark shimmering blue, low cut and strapless. A glittering diamond pendant hung from her neck, resting against her ample cleavage. She shook her hair and Grayson saw that she wore earrings that matched the pendant. Through the slit in the side, Grayson saw she was wearing sheer stockings and stiletto heels to finish off the package. She was perfect from head to toe.

“I just wanted you to see all you’ve been missing lately, Grayson,” Babs said.

When his voice returned, “Wow, Babs” was all he could say. “I guess I should keep these dates with you.”

“You better Boy Wonder or else!” exclaimed Babs.

He made an overture of wincing slightly at his original title. “Or else, what?” he asked, fighting to keep his eyes off the rising and lowering pendant.

“Or else,” she said with a smile, “I’ll find someone else to share an evening with.”

“Like who, may I ask?”

“Yes, you may ask, but since you’re the junior detective,” she said, “I’ll let you find out on your own.”

He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, feeling an electric tingle run through them. He pulled back, not really wanting to. He fought a grin seeing her uncross her eyes.

“Shall we go?”

“If we don’t now,” she said in a warm voice, “we might not make dinner and the show.”

He rolled her over to his car, lifted her effortlessly into the front passenger seat, folded her chair and placed it in the trunk. He got behind the wheel and started the car. He looked over at her, pleased that she was already looking back.

“So?”

“So?” she repeated.

“You didn’t tell me what you think of my new look.”

Barbara looked deeply into his eyes for a second, then scanned his face.

“If I didn’t know it was you, Mr. Grayson,” she said, “it would take me a few minutes to recognize you.”

“Is this a good or bad thing?” he asked.

She smiled heatedly. “You look good enough to eat.”

He swallowed a batarang-sized lump in his throat. He still stared at her.

“Something else?” she asked.

“You forgive me, don’t you, Babs?”

Her tongue ran across her upper lip. “Forgive you for what, Grayson?”

“You know,” he said. “That joke.”

“Oh,” she said softly, staring dreamily into his eyes. “That. You know me, Grayson. I’ll get you back when you least expect it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

She reached across the small space between them and planted a hot kiss on his mouth, this time it lasted a lot longer than the first. It was Grayson’s turn to uncross his eyes.

“I didn’t say how I’d get you back,” she whispered into his ear.

“That’s right,” he said. “You didn’t.”

“Let’s just say I hope you have enough energy tonight,” she said softly.

Grayson swallowed. “We better go,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “We better.”

The car pulled away from the curb and headed off into the night.

To be continued…