JLU 2001 Fanfiction -World's Finest 10

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The World's Finest Team...

JUST ANOTHER MUTHA-$%@&!-ING TEAM-UP STORY

World's Finest #10
April, Year Four by Bertram Gibbs

BATMAN

SUPERMAN

APOLLO

MIDNIGHTER

TEN

The Justice League Watchtower

    Booster Gold sat on the couch in his suite in the Watchtower, his feet propped up on the coffee table and crossed at the ankles. His eyes scanned the pages in front of him with an intensity not known for someone with his limited attention span. He turned the page and his eyes widened. He quickly flipped back to the previous page and ran his fingers across it rapidly, the tip of his tongue peeking from between his lips. His finger stopped and his face filled with a satisfied understanding and he turned the page and continued.

    Next to him sat the Blue Beetle, reading similar text, elbows on knees, but hunched over so far, his chin nearly grazed his knees. The document was propped up against a bowl of popcorn, leaving his hands free to turn the pages, scratch, pick his nose, or other things purposely left unmentioned. With one hand he turned the page as his free arm lifted and his hand blindly reached out for the frosted glass of orange soda. His eyes not leaving the page, he brought the glass to his lips, took a deep swallow and returned the glass to the table, missing the coaster. Again. The coaster was the driest spot on the table.

    Every second or so, Beetle would frown and glance over to where his partner sat. He was thankful he had the foresight to put the portable transporter unit in his handbag, which took them from the ladies room in the bar to his air transport vehicle that hovered two hundred feet above the establishment. When Booster complained that their ill-timed exit prevented Harry and Phil from taking them to see that non-publicized sneak-peek of the highly awaited part three of that space adventure film (a week before it opened), Kord heavily toyed with the idea of pressing the button that activated the ejection seat. This was why they were reading their back issues of comic books. It was something to take his mind off of . . . this evening.

    Skeets hovered behind them, peering over their costumed shoulders. It turned its football shaped head to the reading matter of the Blue Beetle’s. It made a sound like a clearing of the throat.

    “Your Beetleship?” it asked.

    “Yeah, Skeets?” Ted Kord said absently.

    “I require a minimum amount of clarification on this individual,” it said.

    Kord stopped reading and looked up at the droid. “What individual?” he asked.

    “The subject of what you are reading,” it answered.

    “In what way?” asked Kord.

    “You stated the man is blind, his senses are heightened, and he fights evil doers.”

    “That’s right,” Kord answered as he questioned for the umpteenth time if the thing blew another fuse.

    “Yet,” Skeets continued, “his secret identity is a lawyer.”

    “Yes.”

    “Is he aware of this?”

    Kord opened his mouth, then closed it and squinted his eyes at the floating machine. “I don’t get you,” he said.

    Skeets made a buzzing sound, which to Kord sounded strangely like profanity, then moved in a few inches closer.

    “To put it in simplistic terms,” it said in a tone that would be regulated to the helmet and mouth-guard contingent. “He is a bad guy by day and a good guy by night. A Jekyll/Hyde concept, but with a twist. If this is correct, kudos should be heaped on the creator for coming up with such a perfect secret identity.” It clicked twice and angled his ‘head’. “Does he ever attempt to hunt himself down?” it asked.

    Kord smiled. “No, Skeets,” he said. “He’s a very good lawyer. He’s honest and has high moral standards.”

    Skeets hovered in silence and a small light blipped off and on in the center of his chest. “Are you pulling my diode, sir?”

    “Not if you paid me,” answered Beetle.

    “Then huzzahs to the creator for working in an outrageous concept!” Skeets exclaimed.

    “Reading here, guys,” muttered Booster from his corner of the couch.

    “Yes, I am sure the ongoing adventures of a fashionably challenged talking canine, aquatic fowl, and rodent requires a heightened level of concentration, your Boosterness,” Skeets said.

    “One more crack like that and I’m going to dismantle you,” warned Booster.

    “Which means you can no longer depend on me for important information,” the droid replied simply. “Such as determining how to defuse a bomb from Apokolips. Computing the trajectory of an incoming missile. Sorting out which goes into hot water and which goes into cold on laundry day. You may recall the last time you chose to perform those duties without any assistance? Your mishap with starch, your Boldmeiser?” it reminded.

    Booster Gold angrily flipped a page. “I hate you,” he muttered.

    “Because I am beautiful?” Skeets asked.

    “Zip it!” snapped Booster.

    “It warms my heart to see you in control of a situation,” said Beetle.

    “You too!” groused Gold.

    The stack of comic books between them on the couch, along with the two stacks on the coffee table, flew across the room in as if they were caught in the vacuum of a tornado. The Flash stood in front of the table between them, his arms folded across his chest, staring at them with a hint of a smile.

    “I need to talk to you,” he said.

    “Dude!” wailed Booster. “That was so wrong, man! Those were in order! The stack on the couch were the ones we haven’t read. The stacks on the coffee table were divided into the ones we looked at, and the ones we wanted to read again! It’s going to take forever for Skeets to put them in order!”

    Skeets released a longer buzzing sound.

    “It’ll only take a second,” the Flash grinned and zipped out of the room.

    “Now that was straAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY!!!” screamed Booster as he was dragged out of the room caught in Wally’s speed force. His head snapped down and saw Beetle and Skeets bouncing in the electrically charged speed stream behind him.

    Booster’s ear-piercing scream made Beetle look up in time to see the foot thick steel bulkhead coming towards him. He followed the leader and screamed as he passed through it.

    Skeets who was behind him was going, “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!”

    They came to a sudden halt in the monitor room and dropped heavily to the floor.

    “Can we do that again, Sir!” cried Skeets.

    “I didn’t want to do that the first time!” coughed Booster, trying to get the air back into his lungs.

    “Wally?” gasped Kord, pulling himself to his feet. “You got some splainin’ to do.”

    “I know,” West said, italicizing the second word.

    Booster and Beetle glanced at each other.

    “Glad to hear it,” said Gold. “Well, that was fun, but we have to get . . . “

    “I know, you two idiots . . .I know,” said Wally. Though there was a shadow of a smile on his lips, his green eyes were as hard as emeralds.

    “Know . . . what?” asked Beetle.

    “Those heroes from another world?” prompted Wally. “Their personal choices? Bats? Supes? That what.”

    “Are you accusing us of something?” Booster asked in a hurt tone, stepping directly in front of the Scarlet Speedster.

    Wally looked into his eyes. “I know,” he repeated.

    “Oh, will you stop doing Batman!” complained Booster. “If you’re saying we did something, say it!”

    “That’s the point, Booster,” he replied. “You haven’t done anything. Yet.”

    “Then what’s this all about?” asked Beetle.

    “I’m telling you, don’t do it,” said Flash. “Whatever it is you’re planning, don’t go there. Better yet, forget about it. Entirely.”

    Booster winked at Kord, then looked at Wally.

    “So you’re telling us not to do something we haven’t done yet, based on something we have no idea what you’re talking about?” asked Booster.

    “Oh,” grinned Wally. “You know what I’m talking about!”

    Booster folded his arms across his chest. “And if we say we don’t?”

    Wally smiled darkly. He ran to the console’s rows of keyboards and began to type in data at super-speed. To the normal eye, there were six Flashes standing shoulder-to-shoulder, entering information. He suddenly appeared in front of them. He hooked a finger over his shoulder at the rows of monitors.

    All which showed Booster Gold and the Blue Beetle wearing dresses, wigs and makeup.

    And dancing.

    With two very large men.

    Except for the sound of two men swallowing a lump the size of a Volvo, the room was silent.

    “Now,” began Wally, “I have no idea what you two jerks are planning to do with this information, and frankly, I don’t want to know. But it would cause verrrrry nasty repercussions. The least of which is this,” he said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the monitors. “Now I set up over three-hundred super-hero sites on the Net, and all will show a video of you two bozos prancing around in dresses with two men of immense size and incredibly questionable tastes. The moment you leak what you know; to anyone, the sites will go live.” Wally grinned. “Can you imagine the media explosion?” he asked. “Associated Press? Reuters? CNN? MSNBC? ABC, CBS, NBC, FOX, the WB, UPN (maybe not UPN), all showing a video of you doing the Hustle with two longshoremen playing all around the world? All at the same time? Your lives will never be the same.”

    Both Booster Gold and the Blue Beetle’s knees went weak at the exact same time. The Flash zipped out of sight for a less than a second and returned with two chairs he placed behind them. Both men fell into the seats heavily.

    “And guys?” Wally said a sour look filling the lower half of his face. “Your undercover work sucks!”

    “H-h-h-how?” stammered Booster.

    Wally sat down on the floor between them and grinned maliciously. “Well, when I saw through your incredible disguises,” he sneered, “I knew you had to have had some reason; no matter how stupid it was, to dress like that. You followed me to the bar to get more evidence, knowing I was meeting with Rathaway.” Flash looked up at the hovering Skeets, who was trying to hide behind a support pillar. “Let me guess,” he said flatly. “You were monitoring all my outgoing calls, right?”

    Skeets, who had peeked out, ducked his ‘head’ back behind the beam.

    “But this had to have started somewhere and that made me realize that Skeets must have been in the Watchtower and tipped you off on our visitors,” hissed Wally darkly.

    Beetle stared at Flash with a blank expression on his face. He regarded Booster with the same look. “I hate you,” whispered Kord vacantly. He turned back to the Flash.

    “H-h-h-how?” stammered Booster, now pointing at the screens.

    “I made a pit stop to the JSA headquarters and borrowed a few T-spheres from Mr. Terrific,” Wally answered.

    Beetle’s eyes widened from behind his goggles. His head whipped back in Booster’s direction (whose face had turned the color of tofu), shooting him a look that would eviscerate a rhino, then turned back to the Flash with an expression of just-about-to-be-confirmed despair.

    “And since you’re wondering if Terrific knows about your little extra curricular activities,” West said, “well, let’s just call that insurance. Do we understand each other?”

    Both men slowly nodded.

    Flash looked up at Skeets.

    “Yes, your Swiftness,” it replied.

    “All right then,” Wally said. A small smile appeared on his lips. “And let me tell you clowns something,” he said. “Don’t ever think I won’t sink to your level. You think you can pull gags? Hang out with Beast Boy for a few years. I was trained by the best!”

    And with that the Flash disappeared from view in a gust of wind.

    Beetle turned slowly towards Booster, who was still staring into the space Wally had occupied. “I really hate you,” he said.

    “So you said,” Gold replied quietly. An instrumental version of Mighty Mouse’s ‘Here I come to save the day’ sounded from Booster’s hip. He absently reached down and pulled the cellphone from his belt clip. “Hello!” he said in a flat monotone. “Booster Gold, hero of the Justice League at your service! Here to protect at a . . . oh, hi, Harry,” he said, his voice turning downcast. He nodded. “Yeah, Beetle’s right here. Beetle; Harry and Phil said to say . . . OW!”

    Beetle’s hand shot out and punched Gold in the shoulder. His eyes looked insane behind the goggles. “You gave him your cell number?!?” he rasped.

    “Hold on, Harry,” Gold said in the phone and cupped held his hand over it. “He did spring for dinner!” He turned back to the phone. “Yeah, Harry,” he said. “Sorry about that. What’s up? No, we did not really have anything scheduled tonight. Why?” He nodded and his eyes scanned the tops of his boots. “Box seats, eh?” He glanced up and winked at Kord, whose mouth had dropped to the middle of his chest. “Well, I don’t know, guy,” Booster said. “I know I said we didn’t have anything scheduled, but the Beetle and I were going to go over a strategy to take out a terrorist cell.” He nodded. “Whoa!” exclaimed Gold. “That’s a five-star dive! It’s pretty expensive, you know?” Booster shot Ted a raised thumb. “You can expense it?” he asked. “Look, man, I don’t want to take advantage of . . . No, man. You’re more than generous. Well, yeah, maybe we can do that in the A.M.” he said grinning, not noticing that Ted Kord had risen from his seat and was swinging the molded steel chair at his nut.

To be continued…