The World's Finest Team... JUST ANOTHER MUTHA-$%@&!-ING  TEAM-UP STORY
World's Finest #12 June, Year Four	by Bertram Gibbs

BATMAN

SUPERMAN

APOLLO

MIDNIGHTER

After yet another frigid battle with Captain Cold, Wally West retreated to the Watchtower to recover. He soaked in the large Jacuzzi for an hour, then went to the exercise room to work out the kinks in his muscles. He used each machine, working on various parts of his body, feeling the burn run through his arms, his chest, his stomach and back, and, of course, his legs. In order to stretch the muscles properly, he did each rep at extra-slow-speed (meaning at a normal human pace). He then decided to play a game of solitaire table tennis and strolled to the far end of the massive room.

Cold was back behind bars, Keystone City was safe for a little while, there were no emergencies to handle at present, and West was glad for the free time. He gave Jay and Kyle a ring, just to see what they were up to, but got their voicemails instead. He would have liked to go home, kiss his wife, stretch across the couch and play a few video games, but Linda was furiously re-writing a news story at the apartment. That meant Wally had to make himself scarce for several hours and not come within one hundred yards of the place until he received her All Clear call. The last time he was around during one of her last minute re-writes, Linda was close to throwing something (or several something’s) at Wally.

He asked if he could help her with the story, if she was hungry, if she was thirsty, if she needed a neck massage, if there was something that needed to be done (whatever she had come up with, the task was completed in a few seconds), if there was something that needed to be undone, and paced around the apartment, checking out this, looking at that, picking that up, putting that down, all to keep himself occupied. Seeing him appear on one side of the room to look at a magazine, then zip out and reappear on the other side to straighten a picture, zip out and appear reading a magazine - at super speed - on the couch was distracting.

That was the first fifteen minutes.

“Go call Dick, Wally,” snarled Linda.

“I did,” he said, drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch, releasing a continuous thup-thup-thup-thup-thup sound. “He was out. I left a message.”

“Go see what the Titans are up to,” she suggested, backspacing a line on the document she was working on.

“I did,” he replied, reorganizing the bookshelf. “They were on a mission. I left a message.”

“Did you call the League?” she asked, tabbing down to a different section of the page.

“I did,” Wally said, from the kitchen, cutting up lettuce, cucumbers and tomatoes for a salad. Once second you saw the whole vegetables sitting on the counter, then next they would be chopped in bite-sized pieces in their own respective bowls. “Ray’s on Watchtower duty. They were in space fighting Grodd. I left a message.”

“Was Batman with them?” she asked, her eyes glaring at him over her flat screen.

“No,” he said after placing her small salad bowl in front of her and was already three-quarters into his much larger bowl.

“Did you call Batman?” she asked.

“Didn’t answer,” he said washing the dishes.

She took a very sharp pencil from cup near the mouse, gripped it between her teeth and bit down hard for three seconds. She removed the pencil and exhaled deeply. “Did you . . . ?”

“I went to Gotham City,” he said from the couch as he played a video game. “Saw Alfred. I left a message.” Not hearing a response from her side of the room, he looked up into wild eyes staring back at him. “Uh, Plastic Man called,” he said cheerfully.

She did not say a word, nor had her expression changed. Her eyebrows rose advising him to continue.

Wally opened his mouth, then shut it and sunk a few inches into the couch. “He left a message.” Wally noticed a small tic had formed in her left eye. “You, uh, want me I should call him back?”

“YES!” she screamed. “Go play with him. Go out to a movie! Go save the world! Just get out of here!”

“Why?”

“BECAUSE YOU ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY!!!!!”

She spun in her seat and began sifting through a stack of papers.

“Aw, baby” he said walking over with his hands out to touch her shoulders. “you don’t mean . . . “

“I’m reaching for the letter opener, Wally,” she said without turning in her seat. “The very razor sharp letter opener.”

Wally swallowed as he approached the large green table with the net stretched across its center, and two paddles and a small white ball next to it. He remembered the look on her face when he (again - mistakenly) asked if he could give her a hand.

Being the fastest man alive had its perks, like running faster than a flying letter opener. But before he could dwell on Linda’s request to do something that was not only disgusting, but physically impossible, and her assertion that his parents weren’t married, the report of Captain Cold came through the police band transmission in his lightning ear pieces, and after a bit, here he was.

Wally picked up a paddle with one hand and flipped it, grabbing the ball with the other and walked the few steps to the end of the table. He dropped the ball and watched it bounce, then tapped it with the paddle. He put down the paddle and dashed to the other side, picked up the opposing paddle and tapped the ball back.

Wally went back and forth from one end of the table to the other, tapping the ball, smacking it, putting a spin on it, and hitting it to the table’s furthest corner. After a few seconds, his body blurred and the normal eye could see two Wally West’s playing Ping-Pong. The West on the left sent a vicious volley to the Wally on the right. But before he could grab the paddle on the other side, a large hand came out of nowhere and caught the ball.

The Flash came to a skidding halt in front of Superman. He grinned and opened his mouth but saw his expression was none too happy.

“Uh, hi . . . “

“Who else knows?” said Batman over his shoulder.

West shrieked and spun on his heels. Wally’s eyes went to the Dark Knight to over his head at the far end of the gym where the entrance was, gauging the distance.

“How do you do that?” he asked.

“Who else knows?” Batman repeated, moving a half step closer.

“No one,” West answered quickly.

“You’re lying!” Batman snapped.

Wally swallowed again, this time a lump the size of a Buick. “How . . . “

“You hesitated,” Batman replied. “For you. Now. Who. Knows. West?”

Batman was so close, he could feel his hot breath on his face. Wally could also feel a layer of sweat make a special guest appearance on his forehead, under his eyes and across his upper lip.

“You know,” he squeaked, “The only time you call me ‘West’ is when you’re really, really . . . “

Superman’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder.

“BlueBeetleandBoosterGold!” Wally replied.

He felt the Man of Steel’s fingers grip his shoulder muscles, sending a spasm of pain that turned his legs to rubber and dropping him to his knees. He removed his hand.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Think nothing of it,” West gasped. He looked up as saw the back of Batman’s flowing cape as he headed for the door. Wally sighed and ran at Batman, stopping only when he was a few feet in front of him.

“I took care of it!” he said, his hands held out in front of him. Batman came to a sudden halt and glared at him. Wally looked at his reaching hands, like they weren’t part of his body and dropped them to his sides, then folded them behind his back for good measure.

Superman stood next to them. “How did you take care of it?” he asked.

West told them.

Superman’s mouth, which was set in a hard line, began to lift at the edges into a smile. He began to chuckle and tears filled his eyes.

Batman stared.

When Wally finished his story, Batman walked around him and continued towards the exit.

“Where are you going?!?!” asked Wally. “You’ll never hear a peep from them about this!”

Batman stopped and said, “Insurance” over his shoulder. He walked out the door. Suddenly his head popped back in the opening. “Is J’onn here?”

“Uh, yeah,” said West.

Batman’s head disappeared. Then reappeared. “Get dressed. You’re coming.” His head snapped to where Superman was standing. “You too.” His head left the open doorway.

Superman looked at Wally and shrugged. He lifted off the floor, flew out the door and out of sight.

Wally rolled his eyes Heavenward and sighed. He too then left the exercise room.

The Blue Beetle was on the couch in his room, playing a video game, while his partner, Booster Gold was in his usual stretched out position next to him, reading a girlie magazine. Skeets was hovering over a comic book, using bolts of static electricity to turn the pages.

“So, your Beetleship,” it said, “This villain’s only power is that he is extremely corpulent and no one can move him?”

“That’s about it,” Beetle replied, grinning as he moved to the game’s next level.

Skeets hummed. “I don’t get it,” it replied.

“Nothing to get Skeetsie!” said Booster, who was tilting the magazine for a better angle.

“How’s that article coming?” Kord grinned, glancing up from the game at his friend.

“I’m getting there,” he replied.

“Because you were supposed to regale me with the inner secrets of Charo, and what she’s been up to lately,” Ted reminded in a sing song way.

“Keep your tights on!” Booster said with a grin. “You’ll know all you need to know.”

J’onn J’onzz rose through the center of the room.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” The two heroes (and one droid) screamed.

“J’ONN!” gasped Beetle, clutching his chest. “You’ll give someone a heart attack!”

“Do not do that again!” cried Booster. “I mean . . . AAAAAAHHHHH!”

“WHAT?” screamed Beetle, coming to a standing position.

Booster pointed over his shoulder. Beetle spun, hands raised defensively and into a large blue chest with a red and gold emblem.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh,” Kord stuttered.

Booster got up from his seat and froze, his eyes staring straight ahead of him. He slowly turned to see Batman standing there, glowering at him. Behind him was the Flash.

None of them looked happy.

At all.

No one said a word. Beetle and Booster exchanged worried glances. Booster walked over to Superman with a broad smile on his face.

“So how’s it going, Big Blue?” he asked in a cheerful voice.

Superman stared at him. There was a chastising look in his eyes and Gold could almost hear a tsk-tsk-tsk sound.

“You want a beer?” he asked weakly.

Superman said nothing.

“A soft drink?” he asked in a voice a mouse would scoff at.

Booster turned to Beetle. “He’s not saying anything!”

“You think?” sniffed Kord. He walked up to J’onn, then backed away a step. “What’s up, J’onn? Trouble at the mill?” he asked.

The Martian Manhunter’s red eyes flickered slightly. His jaw was set and his lips were tightly pressed together.

“J’onn?” Kord said. “Blue Beetle to J’onn J’onzz? Come in J’onn.” He was about to raise his hand to wave it in front of the senior member of the JLA, then recalled his heat blasts that could disintegrate a cinder block. He gave an uneasy smile. “Look, J’onn,” Kord said. “I’d expect the silent treatment from Bats, but what did we do to rate this from all of you?”

“Beetle!” whispered Gold harshly. Ted turned. Booster tilted his head in the Flash’s direction. “Ash-flay illed-spay the eens-bay!”

Kord was in uniform with his mask pulled tightly over his head, leaving only the lower half of his face exposed. The visible skin paled to resemble curdled milk. Behind his gold goggles, his eyes were as wide as Superman’s S. His bulging eyes slid on his face towards the Man of Steel who was still standing silently behind him. He spun with a frightened grin on his face.

“Now you don’t think we would do anything with thissssssssss . . . information, do you?” he asked in a lightly cracking voice.

“I think they do, Beetle,” said Gold over his shoulder.

Beetle’s head snapped around and he said “SHUT IT!” through grit teeth. He spun back to his teammates with the earlier mentioned frightened grin. “It’s like Las Vegas! It stays between us, and goes no further, right?” he asked. “Just us, right? The Justice League united! What happens here, stays here. You’re not going to kill us, are you?” he asked in a very small voice.

Not Superman, not J’onn J’onzz, not the Flash, and certainly not the Batman replied.

They all stared.

Booster stalked over to Batman, frowning.

“Look here,” he said, shoving his fists on his hips. “This is an insult! Beetle and I object to this treatment!”

“You’ll notice I didn’t say anything,” said Kord over his shoulder.

“You have no cause to suspect we would do anything with this information,” Gold continued. “We have worked together; side by side, for a lotta years. You know us!”

(insert sound effect of one cricket chirping)

“Since you have not offered any contrary evidence, your Goldness,” Skeets said above him, “I hope your demise is quick. I suspect it will be messy, but I am hoping (knowing your tolerance levels) your insurmountable pain renders you unconscious and oblivious to the carnage your body will face.“

Booster raised his eyes towards the droid who hovered overhead and shot it a rancid look. When he lowered them, he found himself staring into Batman’s eyes.

Eyes that had been a few feet in front of him less than a second ago, and were now only mere inches from his.

Booster dropped to his knees and covered his head with his arms.

“Don’t kill us!” he cried. “Pul-leese don’t kill us!”

Beetle dove next to his partner and likewise went into a cowering position.

“At least make it quick!” he begged. “Like transport us into a sun or something!”

“EEEP!” cried Skeets from over their heads.

“I HATE TUBES!” cried Booster from under his arms. “And I hate the smell of hospitals!!!”

“Your Goldship?” said Skeets.

“And the constant beep-beep-beep from the machines!”

“Your Major Goldmo?” said Skeets.

“I’ll take the beep-beep-beep over the eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee any day,” whined Kord who realized that the carpet needed vacuuming.

“They are gone,” said Skeets.

The blubbering from the floor stopped as if a switch was snapped to OFF. Two heads lifted and two pairs of eyes scanned the room.

“They’re not behind us, are they Skeets?” asked Booster.

“No, sir,” Skeets said in a bored tone.

“I mean, if they are,” mentioned Booster, “You do realize that your next job is a target in a game of extreme laser tag.”

“Your stinging riposte was calculated minutes ago, your Gold Kahuna,” replied Skeets.

Neither man moved from the floor.

“That’s an affirmative, sir,” Skeets said.

Booster and Beetle slowly craned their heads around and found the room, aside from themselves, empty. They stood up and looked anywhere but at each other.

“I think that went well,” Booster said finally.

Kord slapped his partner in the head. “You wanna tell me how well that went?”

“HEY!” cried Gold. “My head’s still sore from that last shot you gave me!” He plopped back on the couch and picked up the magazine. “Look,” he said, returning to the page he was studying, “They gave us the silent warning. No harm, no foul. It’s not like they manhandled us!”

“Speak for yourself, Sir,” said Skeets, hovering at eye level.

On his gold plating there was a burn mark in the shape of tombstone.

With their names on it.

Booster’s jaw dropped while Kord’s legs decided to give notice. He sunk into the couch next to him.

“He’s been around Bruce too long,” muttered Beetle staring at the brand.

he Authority Carrier

Apollo and Midnighter sat on the hard floor of craft’s large open cargo bay, sharing a bowl of sunflower seeds. Midnighter gently cracked each shell with his teeth, extracted the nut, and disposed of the empty covering in a neat pile next to his knee. Apollo ate the seeds, shell and all.

Pinpoints of starlight shimmered through the port windows as the Carrier sliced through space. Apollo smiled to himself. Ever since Henry Bendix imbued him with solar energy, he felt at home, at peace in the skies. Either flying over a city under his own power, or riding through space in the Carrier, it made his body tingle like a live wire. That was why he requested their quarters in the front of the ship, so they could watch the thousands of shards of light fly past them as they lay together in bed. Many have made love by fire or candlelight, but very damn few have made love passing through a constellation. The light show stimulated the senses. His eyes canted over to his long time partner and colleague. Midnighter’s attention was focused on Myron Eugene Spazinski on the opposite side of the room.

As relaxed as he appeared, Midnighter was a coiled spring, ready to dive at any sudden move Spazinski made. He popped another seed in his mouth and dismantled it. He thought about their meeting with Flying Rodent Boy and the PMS’ing Soccer Mom, and felt his stomach cringe. Did they have to kill to stop these lunatics? Wasn’t there enough blood covering the streets? He ate another seed and looked at Myron Eugene Spazinski. He grinned. Yes, they did have to kill in order to protect. Regardless of how many bad guys they had to take out, it would still be a whole lot less if you let fuckwits like Spazinski follow through with their psycho plans. He placed another seed between his teeth and bit down, eating the shell with the nut. Fuck you, Rat Boy, he thought. You clean up your mess your way and we’ll do nicely with ours. His grin widened. But you have to admit, he thought, Rat Boy was cool as shit!

Myron Eugene Spazinski stood staring at the dimensional portal. If he only could undo these bonds, he would hobble as fast as he could and escape. With freedom so close at hand, the pain in his joints would be minimal in comparison. The machine was fully powered, so there would be no delay in starting the thing up. As for where he would go, well, that did not matter one bit. He would go to another universe, find his double, and between the two of them he would be the ruler of the multiverse. He glanced down at the wide metal bands around his wrists and ankles and the electric charge that sparked between them, holding his hands and feet twelve inches apart. He smiled. No one could stop him now. He knew he was too close to realizing his destiny for that to happen.

The dimensional portal was fifteen feet away from Myron Eugene Spazinski. Not far, he thought. Not far at all. He looked over to where Apollo and Midnighter lounged. They were more than twice the distance away. That helps. He watched them pop seeds in their mouths, without a care in the world. The had the portal. They had him in bondage. They had won. Once again they had underestimated him. They probably felt that after the beating and humiliation he took from that white-faced madman (not to mention that open cavity search), as well as the capture, that Myron Eugene Spazinski would be in no frame of mind to attempt an escape. More fool them.

Bitter bile rose in his throat. Those two sons of bitches! They laughed at him! These fucking jocks had the utter audacity to laugh at him! Myron Eugene Spazinski! Once he was in complete control he would personally castrate the both of them and feed their members to the dogs. Mental note, said Spazinski to himself. Get dogs.

He lowered his hands in front of the belt on his uniform, his eyes never leaving the two heroes across the bay. Once his wrists were in line with the buckle, Myron Eugene Spazinski flexed a stomach muscle and a small flash of electricity shot out and struck the stream of current that held the manacles in place. A thin bolt of electricity shot down to intersect the current between the leg shackles. The power to the wrist and ankle cuffs suddenly went out.

Myron Eugene Spazinski’s eyes shot to Apollo and Midnighter, who seemed to be too involved with their snack to notice he was free. His pale face flushed in anger and his heart burned with the insult he had endured for his entire life. To them, he was nothing but a geek; a spindly 90 pound weakling (he was actually 110, but his narrow build and arms and legs that were a teensy weensy bit too long made him look lighter), incapable of fighting back and winning. Even after he had discovered the link to the multiverse, created a vehicle capable of multiuniversal travel, had entered a brother universe, and had successfully split himself into two separate and independent entities of himself, he was still seen as a joke. He had done all this and they still underestimated him. He grinned and it hurt to do so. He stiff legged it to the dimensional portal.

Midnighter watched the skittering Spazinski reach the portal.

“Wait,” he said in a bored voice. “Stop.”

“You have to be taken to trial,” added Apollo, picking a shell from his teeth with a fingernail.

“You’ll never take me to trial!” he spat, reaching the dimensional portal. “Or whatever it is you call one! I will be back and I will make you two pay!”

Midnighter and Apollo stood and calmly adjusted themselves before walking towards him.

“We save your life from that white faced shithead,” said the Midnighter who was flexing his wrists, hands and fingers, “and this is the thanks we get?”

“Let’s not forget,” Apollo cut in, his eyes flaring in two spots of solar energy “you killed hundreds of people, Spazinski! You’re paying for that!”

Myron Eugene Spazinski stopped in his tracks and stared aghast at the men. “I never killed a . . . “

“You had others do your dirty work, bitch,” snapped Midnighter. “You’re too much of a coward to do it yourself. Now sit your scrawny ass down before I shove my boot up your ass!”

“You can’t get out of here,” said Apollo, his eyes like daggers. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.”

“FUCK YOU!” screamed Myron Eugene Spazinski. “Fuck you and your good cop/bad cop bullshit!” He climbed on the round platform and slapped his hand against the control on the podium. A small blue light glowed on the panel and scanned his hand. The portal suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree and the blue electric spiral grew out from its center and spread across the frame. A field of white shimmering energy suddenly covered the portal from base to frame.

Apollo glanced at Midnighter’s scowling face as they ran forward. Midnighter sent punch after punch and kick after kick at the impenetrable field, with no success. He pulled a truncheon from under his coat and began wailing at the shimmering walls. Apollo fired bursts of solar energy at the shielding only to have it deflect upwards, charring the bay’s ceiling.

Myron Eugene Spazinski smiled evilly at the two men. “You know something?” he asked in a voice filled with mocking triumph. “When I come back, I think I’ll make you two my personal cock suckers and ass boys! Just to remind you who is the better man.” His eyes reflected the portal’s glow. “Since you both are used to having your holes filled with dick,” Myron rasped, “I’ll think of something creatively humiliating to add to the fun!” His pale face went beet red as a spasm of pain shot from his tailbone to the top of his neck. When the spasm ended, he glared at Midnighter and Apollo with a maniacal hatred. “And I’m going to melt that steel bitch into a fucking puddle!”

The portal rose off the ground and a high whine of energy came from its slowly spinning center.

“What do we do?” asked Apollo.

Midnighter smiled a sly smile. “Angie?” he said. “As we planned.”

He then grabbed Apollo’s arm and led him to the far side of the cargo bay. At once, a force field appeared in front of them as the cargo bay door - which was directly behind Myron Eugene Spazinski and the dimensional portal - opened like a camera’s iris. Myron’s eyes widened as the portal, now unencumbered by gravity, slid closer to the open bay door. Spazinski limped to the control panel, jabbed his finger against a button, and grinned at the two men.

“You’re too late!” he screamed over the rushing sound of the bay’s air being sucked into space. He was struck by another anal spasm and hopped to the spinning pool of energy in the center of the portal. The portal suddenly jerked and sent Myron flailing backwards to the floor. He glanced over the side (careful not to smack his head against the sparking field) and saw a thick cable leading from the portal’s underside to a ring firmly imbedded in the floor. He couldn’t undo the tether without shutting off the force field, and if he shut off the field, he would be dragged into void. He stared at the cable in total disbelief. He was close; so close.

“Hey, fuckwit!” yelled Midnighter from across the room.

Myron Eugene Spazinski looked up, tears in his eyes.

“Let me help you out,” Midnighter said. “Angie?”

A small steel nozzle poked out of the ceiling and fired a red beam at the tether. A section of the cable began to turn a fiery red and started to melt, each drop never quite reaching the floor for it was sucked into space. Myron Eugene Spazinski tried to get to his feet as the wire snapped. The portal was sucked out into space and the momentum sent Myron face first into the wall of the protective field. He screamed in agony. He screamed in frustration. He screamed at the injustice. He was hit by another anal spasm.

He just screamed.

Midnighter and Apollo watched Myron Eugene Spazinski and his dimensional portal spin slowly through space. As a smaller force field covered the open cargo bay door, oxygen was pumped back into the bay. Across the room, the field around them vanished. Midnighter once again grabbed Apollo by the arm and led him to the opening.

“Angie?” he said again. “If you would.”

A particle beam shot out of the hull of the Carrier and struck the dimensional portal. The beam, mixed with the portal’s force field, glowed like a nova. Just before it exploded in a soundless shower of sparks and fire, Myron Eugene Spazinski raised both middle digits at the staring heroes. After the mist evaporated you could see the sparking words HAPPY ANNIVERSARY! inside of a briefly shimmering heart. The words and the heart became part of the vastness of space and vanished without a trace. The bay door’s iris closed and the force field that covered it turned off.

Apollo turned to Midnighter with tears in his eyes. He smiled.

“Now you’re not going to tell me you had this planned all along, are you?’ he asked.

Midnighter looked deeply into space and at the passing stars. “We were planning on destroying the portal anyway,” he said. “I just asked Angie to add a little something.” His jaw tightened. “I didn’t expect Myron to make it that far, so you can call that the icing on the cake. So to answer your question if I planned all this . . . “ He grinned and shook his head. “Naw,” he replied. “I think I’ve pissed you off enough for one year.”

“I’ve always loved you for your brains,” Apollo said.

Midnighter looked at his partner in his eyes. “’Loved’?” he asked.

Apollo put his arm around his shoulder. “Love,” he amended. “You think I would be as ticked off as I was if I didn’t love you?”

“You have a point.” He lowered his head and looked at the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Apollo looked at his partner and smiled softly. “Angie?” said Apollo.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Do we have anything pending?” he asked. “For a few hours?” he added pulling his friend closer.

They could hear their friend chuckle. “No, guys,” she said. “I think we can do without you for a while.”

“Good,” he said. “Apollo out.” He grinned at Midnighter. “Wanna fool around?” he asked coyly.

“All the time,” Midnighter grinned.

“You know the right things to say,” Apollo replied.

Both men grasped each other’s hand and walked to the cargo bay’s door and out into the open hallway. Midnighter stopped and stared into Apollo’s eyes. His lips parted slightly and closed, as the word or phrase that had fought to get out lost miserably to silence. His lips pursed and he began again, with the same results. He half-smiled and lowered his head again. Apollo reached out and cupped him by the chin and lifted his head so their eyes would meet. Apollo smiled softly at his partner.

“I know,” he whispered. With his free hand, he tapped the side of his head, and then a spot over his heart on his chest. “I know.”

Midnighter nodded and, gripping his partner’s hand tightly, turned the corner in the direction of their room.