Christmas Jeer- Chapter 1

The medium sized bar of the Iceberg Lounge barely seemed to fit the bulky figure at the front. Covered in a black trench coat and hat, all anyone could spot below the coat were the endings of a pair of battered blue jeans and some equally worn shoes.

"Two bottles of beer," he ordered. Realising the waitress wasn't listening he snapped his fingers at her. These weren't properly visible either, being covered by a pair of gloves which were in better condition than most of his clothing.

"Lady, I'm talking to you. Two bottles of beer."

The waitress was a medium-sized woman, Caucasian with hazel eyes and blonde hair. If the man was so inclined, he probably could have hurled her halfway across the club and caused her to land on the dance floor. Fortunately, he had no reason to do so as she scurried away like a mouse that just heard a cat coming down the stairs. He drummed his fingers against the table, bored and getting even thirstier imagining the alcohol run down his throat.

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

"Hey, buddy, this was my stool. Ya mind shifting over a few?"

The sitting man shrugged his enormous shoulders and the hand quickly withdrew.

"Scram. Ya leave, not my problem. Just go with the flow like I do and sit somewhere else."

"Buddy, I was sitting here before I had to take a leak. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

And that was when the annoying man found himself hurled into one of the eating tables.

"I SAID SCRAM!"

Then everything seemed to happen at once.

The waitress dropped the two bottles of beer first, then scurried back into the storage room and slammed the door shut. The band was next to react, stopping the music and a couple of members would have dropped their instruments if it weren't for the supports or straps. Finally, all the dancers ran out, followed by the band members and people drinking or eating at the tables. The man realised that he was now alone and snatched a beer bottle from one of the tables, gulping thirstily before he opened it and almost rammed it down his throat.

Then he heard the sound of an umbrella hitting the floor and a noise of disapproval.

"You can't just walk in here and binge all night for free, my reptilian miscreant."

The man with the umbrella was Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. Fat, with long black hair that failed to grow over the top of his head, a monocle in his right eye and a long pointy nose, he was dressed in his usual ridiculous suit, with a stupidly big bow tie, a beige jacket, white shirt, grey trousers, and finally a blazer with a black top hat. To the outside world he was known to some as the Penguin. It was a fitting nickname.

"Forgive me changing the subject, but your attire seems to have mostly changed to worse for wear, my old acquaintance."

As if on cue, the gloves, shoes and hat were discarded onto the bar, revealing who the man truly was. Tall and well muscled, with yellow teeth and eyes, rough, greyish skin, how could it have been anyone other than Killer Croc Morgan?

"You're right, waddling bird. The trench coat's good for a disguise though."

Penguin raised his grotesque hand and clicked his fingers once, causing two bouncers in suits to march forwards in a threatening manner.

"I almost iced the bat, what makes you think they're gonna stop me?"

Penguin got the point and clicked again. Both his thugs went back to where they'd been before.

"I apologise. This is gross misconduct for an old acquaintance of mine. Please, take a seat."

Croc was slightly irritated by Penguin choosing to treat him like an old friend, but for the time being he chose to play along, sitting at a table and finishing the remains of the chicken that had been left there, not caring it was cold. The club's owner had to hold back a frown of disgust.

"Pray tell me, what objective do you have here? You cannot be here for the dancing or instrumentals, never mind the meal."

Croc licked the bone clean and took another swig from his beer before continuing.

"Actually, I came here after the bat kicked my butt in the sewers again."

Penguin was hardly surprised. If there was anything that Croc could really moan about, it was Batman. After the Croc and Batman had fought, Batman had denied him revenge at least once, prevented him from making quite a bit of money, and foiled his operation with Baby Doll. It was understandable if the reptile man was angry at the vigilante.

"Ah, yes. Our winged adversary is a thorn we'll never remove from our sides. The more you try pulling him out, the deeper he digs into your business."

"Wise words, fat guy."

The words didn't come from Croc, but instead from the man who'd just entered the room. Penguin rotated his neck to see Two-Face enter the room. His suit was mostly coloured black and white, perfectly split in half, with neat black hair on one side and frenzied white hair on the other.

"Get out," Croc and Penguin both hissed in unison. Both of them were still incredibly enraged from Harvey Dent and his recent brutality- or rather his third personality's.

"If you didn't want any unwanted guests, maybe your thugs should have locked the back door after the waitress ran out of it a few minutes ago."

The fat man promptly proceeded to glare at Croc, who shrugged.

"It's not my fault people panic when they see my strength."

Two-Face produced the coin.

"The idiot and the freak. Even with this I can't decide which one's which."

Croc growled and almost leaped off his seat at the former District Attorney, but saw the man- or men- going for the duel handguns he always carried and chose to back down. The reptile man may have been several unusual things, but bulletproof was not one of them.

The two men realised that Two-Face would not be easy to get rid of, and decided to wait and see what he would do.

"If you must insist on residing here, Harvey, may I enquire about your business?"

Two-Face flipped the coin and kept his focus on it, seeing it reflect the light from the disco ball and keeping his eye on it until it landed in the open palm of his hand. Good side up.

"You may, but I think smaller words would be better before you lose Croc."

Sitting down across from the former wrestler partly because he didn't want to risk getting his neck broken, and partly so he had a bit more space, Two-Face put the coin away.

"Since you're so keen to ask, I'm here because I just lost to…"

Croc rolled his eyes.

"Don't tell me. The bat kicked you all the way back to Arkham again."

Two-Face nodded, not entirely happy remembering such things to say the least.

"You'd think one of us would have-"

"Don't start that again!" Croc butted in.

Two-Face pulled the coin out again and flipped it in the air.

"Face-down, I shut you up with a bullet to your head. Face-up, I'll leave you for this time."

Catching it in his hand and slamming it onto the back of his other arm, he checked the result.

"You guys are pretty lucky today."

Refocusing his attention on Croc, Two-Face continued speaking.

"Why shouldn't we talk about this again?"

"Well, every time we do, he always pops up and gets the cops on us!"

"I still haven't forgotten being thrown on the table."

The voice came from outside the club. A shiver ran down Penguin's spine, while the others remained relatively calm.

"There's no way I'm letting him in!"

Penguin snapped his fingers again and the two bouncers went outside in a slightly reluctant manner.

The next noise the men inside heard was a small hiss and both of the thugs falling over in hysteric laughter.

Then they saw his silhouette emerge from the doorway.

"Really, Pengers, you have lousy security for such a business!"

There was unanimous scowling from the super-criminals.

"Get out of here, Joker."

"Oh, come on, Harvey! When can our little parties ever be complete without me? An animal, the aristocrat freak, then a gambler of chance! There's still one space left to fill… mine!"

Joker chuckled in amusement and shuffled a series of cards like it was second nature, before he discarded the deck which, being incredibly sharp, smashed the bottles by the bar.

"Get out of here before I put a bullet in that smile of yours," Two-Face threatened, pistols now in hand.

"Oh, don't be a party pooper! I was only going to reveal some news! You'll kill the punchline if you don't listen!"

Two-Face lowered the firearms a fraction.

"Start talking before the coin makes me change my mind."

"Basically…"

Joker hesitated, uncertain of how to phrase his next sentence. Penguin raised his hand to click for more thugs to arrive, only to remember they were rolling outside from the laughing gas. Two-Face checked the magazines were loaded before he slammed it back into the guns, his way of telling the Clown Prince of Crime to hurry up.

"Lexie has decided to call as many of us as he can to Metropolis. Says we're to meet up with the rest of the amateurs from the "Legion of Doom"."

Croc frowned, confused.

"What kind of name is that?"

Two-Face nodded. While he wasn't on the best terms with one of his former victims, he had to agree. It sounded cheesy, like something out of a 1980's cartoon.

"Why should I care? Whatever they're doing, it sounds good."

Two-Face flipped the coin yet again, watching as it landed in his hand for the umpteenth time.

"Fine."

Croc nodded, unwilling to miss the action. Joker didn't need to answer, obviously. His mind was already set on preparing a killer advent punchline for the Justice League. Penguin scratched his head.

"Then we're set?"

Yet another figure stepped out of the shadows, still clad in the clothes of the waitress she'd been pretending to be a short while ago. Star Sapphire.

"Almost, clown."

At that moment, the glass from the roof shattered and Metallo and Toyman landed on the floor. The latter carried a yoyo and was spinning it round intently.

"Here comes a yoyo to put you to bed,

Though I'll give you one warning- you'll have a sore head!"

With that, the yoyo struck Joker in the face, causing him to spin twice before hitting the wall and passing out. Two-Face was next, hit by the toy returning to its owner. While Croc tried jumping out the way and leaping for the man, he felt Metallo's cold hand grab his neck and hold him upright.

"I thought the zoo was closed, little reptile."

And with that, Metallo hurled him into the bar, smashing it into dozens of fragments and knocking him out cold.

"Bit brutal, wasn't it?" Sapphire asked.

Toyman turned around and while his facial expression was unreadable under the mask he wore, Sapphire didn't need to see his face to get what he was thinking.

You're happy letting those three travel with us while conscious? The Clown Prince of Crime, a former DA who's just done a mental hat trick, and a reptile man? You might as well try diving into the middle of a Parademon civil war with no equipment and pray not to die.

Metallo nodded, having dragged the unconscious Croc and Two-Face over to the remains of the table.

"Sapphire, let's go."

Toyman was about to walk over, before remembering the cowering form of Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot.

"What do we do with the bird?"

Sapphire pondered the question in her mind. Penguin left her mind in something of a quandary when it came to a decision. On the one hand, he had come close to offing the Batman several times and had several underground connections Luthor might find invaluable. On the other hand, he physically left a lot to be desired. In the event of a chase he'd slow them down, and if he struggled with Batman when it came to close combat, he'd be mincemeat against the mostly metahuman expanded Justice League. Even Joker could put up a better fight than him, and this was a guy who'd normally go down in a few blows.

"Bring him with us."

Penguin flinched as Toyman's mask came into contact with his skull and left him unconscious for several hours.