JLU 2001 Fanfiction -World's Finest 7

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The World's Finest Team...

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

World's Finest #8 - February, Year Four by Bertram Gibbs

BATMAN

SUPERMAN

APOLLO

MIDNIGHTER

EIGHT

Metropolis

    “Have you been to these other universes, Myron?” Luthor asked closely inspecting Spazinski’s dimensional gate.

   “Not personally,” answered Myron Eugene Spazinski as he calibrated the energy flow. “Not really. Uh, no . . . but my research team has mapped out each one and the level of their technology!” He stopped and grinned, looking like an anorexic beaver. “There’s a universe that’s totally controlled by women,” he whispered, his eyes large and predatory behind his glasses. “And you know what that means!”

   Luthor stopped and stared at Spazinski. He fought to control his revulsion and took a step forward.

   Myron flinched slightly seeing Luthor was not intrigued by the prospect of this universal takeover. He felt his feet move a step backward. Luthor loomed over the smaller man.

   “You are sure you can do this?” he asked. Luthor’s voice was as calm as a lake on a breezeless day and as soft as warm velvet, yet for no discernable reason it inspired terror in the smaller man.

   Myron swallowed. “Uh, yes,” he squeaked. “YES! Yes, of course I can. Our universes are on equal technology, so it was easy to recreate the dimensional portal!” He wiped a film of sweat from his gray face. “I would say that it is only a few hours away from completion.

   Luthor did not blink; he just continued to stare at the smaller man. His face shifted and he gave Myron Eugene Spazinski a warm smile. He reached over and grasped Spazinski’s shoulder in brotherly way.

   “That’s good,” Luthor said smiling. “Keep me posted. I’m going to check on our guests.” He turned on his heel and walked across the open room to where Midnighter and Superman were held.

   They were in a large warehouse off Metropolis harbor, which according to public records had been vacant for many years. Its walls, once a sharp blue were now a washed out ghost of the original color. The only bright spots on the wall were the graffiti, large blocky characters and sometimes swirling designs, allowing the world to know who was there, whose turf you were on, as well as a means of signifying existence. Even so, the graffiti showed signs of age as well.

   Inside was another matter completely, for the outside was a façade to hide the spotless high tech interior of the warehouse. At the far end of the warehouse, there was a walled in space that served as the office, its single door and large picture windows allowing whomever was the supervisor to monitor his staff (think sweat shop filled with far too many tired sweaty illegal aliens). Outside the office there were three workstations allowing the majority of the space to be used for R & D. At present a good portion of the room held Myron’s portal.

   Outside hanging at an angle on the warehouse wall was a worn and faded sign that read PAGE’S TRUCKING AND SHIPPING. The owner on record was listed as Randal F. Page, who, regardless of his social security number, driver’s license, and record of him filing federal and state taxes promptly every year, did not exist. Randal F. Page was the name used by the Shield Corporation who had a legitimate federal tax identification number, a notarized resale certificate, an outstanding business loan (which was being paid back on a very timely basis) and a fake address in Brooklyn, New York. The real corporation behind Shield was Nielsen Industries, out of Stockholm, Sweden, which was a partner of the Larousse Group, L.L.C. in Paris, France, that was a division of Jian Yashida, Ltd. located in Tokyo, Japan.

   Which is a subsidiary of a division of LexCorp.

   After Superman and Midnighter were subdued in Luthor’s office, he had them transported to the warehouse, along with two U-Haul trucks filled with Spazinski’s requested items. The men had no problem unloading the machinery and cables and devices they had no understanding of, but they were uneasy at moving the two black neoprene body bags; one that leaked a green glow through the spaces in the bag’s zipper, and the other that was hooked to electrodes and had its deliverer wear thick rubber gloves to transport.

   Only the six interior guards knew the contents of each bag. The rest were dismissed after delivery.

   Lex Luthor walked to the two large lit circles at the end of the warehouse.

   The Midnighter’s eyes kept scanning the large ring ten feet above him. His eyes trailed the small openings releasing a stream of electrical current down to its matching ring below, completing the circuit. The ‘cage’ pulsated with a blue/white sheen that released a low audible hum like a hive of angry bees. Again he reached out his finger to touch the ‘wall’ and his whole body went momentarily ridged, his teeth grit and spewed a heavy stream of curses. He backed away, his arm temporarily numb and useless.

   A similar ring, but emitting a deep green glow, enclosed the Man of Steel. He was weak as a kitten, sitting on his haunches, shoulders slumped, and his arms hung lifelessly at his sides. He was trying not to show how much pain he was in. He hoped his efforts were working.

   Luthor smiled. He really didn’t want to kill Superman, which was a realization that surprised him. Not with the control of the multiverse dangling over his hands. Once his controls were in place, he would strike with a force that not even the Man of Steel could stop. He would defeat him. He would humiliate him. He would destroy him. And then he would make him do his bidding, and the world; the worlds, would be his.

   Luthor chuckled to himself. He realized such goals were dipping heavily into the well of comic book villainy, but what the hell, you know? You play the game that’s before you.

   He turned around and stared at Myron Eugene Spazinski’s narrow back as the man checked this readout and that three dimensional schematic, then went back and checked it again. No doubt the man was thorough, Luthor thought, but he had contingency plans in place in the event he found out that Myron was forcing the results in order to get him to join his cause. If the machine partially worked, that was a plus, because he would confiscate it and have his staff go over it to find where Spazinski went wrong in his calculations. If the machine didn’t work, there would be no trace of Myron Eugene Spazinski in this universe, or any other.

   But if the machine worked . . . , he mused.

   A portion of the wall on one side of the warehouse blew inwards, destroying the workstation (and its operator) next to it. Through the large jagged hole strode the Joker, smiling broadly, his eyes darting from the caged Superman and Midnighter to Myron Eugene Spazinski working on the portal, to Luthor who stood there vibrating in anger.

   “Now, Anton,” the Joker said to an invisible second party, “I think the Jacuzzi would look great over there, don’t you? Remove those tacky defeated super-hero bookends and put a projection TV. HI-DEF!” he cackled and grinned.

   “What are you doing here?” barked Luthor.

   “Why, how existential of you, Baldy!” the Joker exclaimed. “The follicly challenged of the world should erect a plaque in your honor. A small one. Maybe wood with a gavel on it, or something.”

   “How did you find this place?” he asked, walking towards the Clown Prince of Crime.

   He held up his hands. “Now wait a minute, Lexy,” he said. “I’m still working on the first question!” He cupped his pointed chin in his hand and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Why are we here after all?” he asked the room. “Why do we exist? What is the meaning of life?”

   Luthor lunged and grabbed the Joker by his lapels and pulled him forward. The only problem was the ‘him’ stayed in place and Luthor stared stupidly at the two strips of material in his hands. He looked up and saw the Joker was smiling at him.

   “Must be a tough-guy, Bogart thing,” he said, his eyes mad. “The grabbing of the lapels and all. Batty does it all the time!”

   He reached into his pockets and pulled out two strips of black material and attached them to the Velcro pads on his jacket. He pulled the jacket’s ends down, squared his shoulders and shot out his arms in a taa-daa exclamation.

   Luthor seethed. “How did you find this place?” he asked darkly.

   “And my office is where?” Joker replied.

   Luthor’s eyes widened. “Office?” he whispered.

   The Joker walked past him and towards Myron Eugene Spazinski who had his back to him and was busily tightening a bolt at the base of the portal. He looked over his shoulder at Luthor dryly.

   “As an equal partner,” the Joker said in a overtly patient singsong regulated to the mentally questionable, “I would get an office. You have an office,” he added pointing a lilac leathered finger at Luthor’s heaving chest. “I have an office,” he said, turning his arm in a flourish to himself.

   “And how, may I ask, did we become partners?” Luthor growled.

   The Joker did a broad double take worthy of the best silent film actor. His jaw had dropped open in shock. “You didn’t get the memo?” he asked in a gasp.

   He spun on his heels and walked over to the caged Midnighter and Superman. Luthor wiped a hand across his face and followed, keeping at a safe distance.

   The Joker glanced at Superman and tsk, tsk, tsk’d, shaking his head. His head snapped to the left and he walked directly in front of the Midnighter and inspected him closely.

   “The fuck you looking at, clown?” Midnighter rasped.

   The Joker didn’t react, still looking at his black leather coat, his studded gloves and his mask. He finally raised his eye level and stared at the masked man.

   “What is it with the people from your world and your potty mouth?” he said, his lips turned down. “I mean, you’re supposed to be an inspiration to the kiddies! You’re supposed to set an example! You’re a good guy!”

   “I’m no ones example, dipshit,” he growled.

   The Joker looked at Lex, an expression of helplessness. “Can you believe this?” he asked, pointing at Midnighter. “I mean, we get mad, and have known to let slip a $%@&! or two, but not in our general conversation!” His face put on a shocked expression and held his fingertips to his mouth. “Lexy! If the heroes have a mouth like this, can you imagine what our counterparts sound like!” His body snapped upright and he wore a quizzical look. “But you had a question,” Joker muttered. “Nooooo. I had a question! Or maybe you had a question then I had a question, but did you have a question after that?” He tapped his lip with a fingertip. “What were we saying?” he asked himself. “’I would get an office. You have an office, I have an office’,” he pointed his finger at Luthor and then himself, nodding along with the words.

   He hopped to a spot in front of him, turned around, and cupped his thick green hair with both hands. “’And how, may I ask, did we become partners?’” he said in a very good Luthor growl. He hopped back to his original spot and repeated the double take and dropped his jaw in shock. “’You didn’t get the memo?’” he repeated in an identical gasp. His body relaxed and he folded his arms across his chest. “You know, Baldy,” he said softly. “That ol’ multiverse thing?”

   Luthor’s face, which was a fiery red, suddenly calmed and returned to its natural state.

   “Give me one good reason why I should work with you?” Luthor asked in a very businesslike tone.

   “Because we’re working for the same goal, Lex!” the Joker said, his eyes wide. “Total domination! It’s what every little boy wants! Think of it!” he said, putting his arm around Luthor’s shoulders. Lex’s face shifted like something loathsome just caressed his cheek. “Total domination and gags on a global scale!” he suddenly looked around like someone could be listening. “And not to mention that universe run by babes,” he whispered leering. “And you know what that means?”

   Luthor tried to pull away, but the Joker held him in place.

   “And as a gesture of good faith in our collaboration,” he said in his ear, “You get the home game. BOYS!” he screamed inches from Lex’s ear, “BRING ‘EM IN!”

   Three very large, very muscular, very much the kind to pry the wedding ring off their dead mother’s finger seconds after they killed her type of hoods entered pushing three wheelchairs; all wearing dark sunglasses and identical shoulder holsters for their well-polished Uzi’s. The first pushed Batman who was strapped to the chair with a gas mask over his face that was connected to a tank (with the Joker’s face emblazoned on it) attached to the back of the chair. The second pushed Apollo, also strapped to an identical wheelchair and wearing an identical mask connected to an identical tank.

   “APOLLO!” screamed Midnighter. “I’ll tear out your fucking eyes, clown!”

   The Joker stared at Midnighter for a few seconds, then turned to the unconscious body of Apollo. “Now that was an interesting moment,” he said.

   Behind the second hood came the third. Neither gassed, nor strapped to the chair, Myron Eugene Spazinski sat, his half naked bruised form twitching in his seat. Whenever he tried to adjust himself, hood number three’s hand would come flying out of nowhere, smacking him across the back of his skull.

   The Joker compensated by attaching a string to the arms of the glasses so the eyewear wouldn’t go flying far.

   “What have you done to me?!?!” cried Myron Eugene Spazinski, standing by the portal device. His already pale skin whitened when his other half locked eyes with him.

   “He slipped!” said the Joker shrugging. He turned to Luthor. “So?” he asked. “About my office?”

   Luthor grinned. “Oh, you’ll get your office, Joker,” he said. “We may even put your name on it,” he muttered. He looked over to Myron Eugene Spazinski, who was still staring in shock at the condition of his duplicate. ”I told you it was a good idea to construct two more of those containment rings!”

   “What did you do to me, you son of a bitch?” screamed Spazinski, coming towards the Joker. “How dare you?!?! I came to you with the offer of a lifetime and this is what you do, you stupid bastard? THIS IS WHAT YOU DO?!?!”

   The Joker reached out and grabbed Myron Eugene Spazinski by the back of his neck and pulled him close.

   “If you read your own reports,” he said, “You’d know to keep a civil tongue in your head around me.”

   “He’s right, you know,” whimpered the Myron Eugene Spazinski still seated in the wheelchair.

   The Joker’s eyes shot to the little man who flinched. “Thank you for that unscripted plug, Myron, old, boy, baby, sweetie, boobie,” he grinned. “But I don’t recall asking for comments from the peanut gallery. FINSTER?”

   One of the hoods snapped to attention and trotted over to where Spazinski sat and moved behind the wheelchair. He full arm slapped Myron against the back of his head, sending him flying forward out of the wheelchair to the floor on his face. He lifted his head up and stared at Myron Eugene Spazinski. His large tearing eyes through his cracked glasses chilled Spazinski to the marrow.

   Myron Eugene Spazinski looked at the madman holding his neck in a new and dangerous way and felt his bladder release. The Joker was grinning.

   “Now that was just a sample of my technique,” he said. “But in case you missed the point, here’s an addendum.”

   His hand dug into his pocket and a stream of acid flew from his boutonnière onto Myron’s chest, melting the spandex and the skin below. He howled in pain and tried to pull away, but the Joker held on tight. He then dove a fist into the man’s stomach, doubling him over. Then he switched hands to the one with the joy buzzer, grabbed the back his neck and sent a blast of current through Spazinski. Myron Eugene Spazinski shot straight up on his toes and screamed, then dropped like a stone to the floor.

   Luthor was sipping from a bottle of club soda. “Are you quite finished?” he asked.

   “For now,” replied the Joker. His eyes glanced at the fallen Spazinski, twitching slightly on the floor. “He’ll be around in a few minutes and right as rain. He’ll probably work faster, too! They’ll be no unionizing on my watch!” he exclaimed in a Bronx accent.

   “Then let’s get these other two caged and we can get on with it,” Luthor said.

   Two large rings lit next to the ones containing the Midnighter and Superman. Two hoods rolled Batman and Apollo towards it.

To be continued…