I have no idea if this even makes sense, but if Frank Miller doesn't have to try, then neither do I?

Heh, that rhymes.

DC owns things, I do not.


Dark Knight III: It's Miller Time

The Batcave:

Gotham City, [Insert State Name Here]…

Hundreds of bats squawked and quarreled amongst the stalactites. Below them, their master, in all his brick-built glory, sat perched at his monitor, impervious to the rolling shadows and the dripping bat guano and the fact that any normal human being would be in adult diapers at this point in their lives. The massive monitors blinked a violent blue hue that illuminated his manly-man face. He gazed through a manly-man cowl with manly-man eye slits expertly cut out by someone other than him, since he was, of course, a manly man who wouldn't touch a sewing needle if his butler's life depended on it.

Most of the monitors were displaying a continuous loop of the movie Taxi Driver; or more accurately a specially made addition that showed only the fight scenes with absolutely no context. The violence soothed him almost as much as noir style repetition.

It was a good life. Minus the crippling loneliness, burdensome debt, and the occasional severe stroke, of course.

It was a good life, and if he kept repeating that, eventually he'd convince himself it was true and that he wasn't currently a sadistic madman locked away in a dank cave. That was what the magical fairy inside batmobile had said; right after he re-named it to the Dick Grayson (Age Dead) was Totally Queer-Mobile.

It was a good life.

His fingers clacked away at the computers keyboard, his eyes drawn to the screen and ignoring another bit of bat guano the slid downs his manly-man face. He was a detective hard at work, analyzing the next big mystery to be solved with nothing but his wits and a super-computer worth more than the entire continent of Africa. The blinking screen played out the mystery for him:

Large Pizza:

Components:

-Cheese

-Tomato Sauce

-Peperoni

-Mushrooms

-Smoked Bacon

"Hmm," he stroked his sagging chin, "that explains the Smoked Bacon flavour…"

Suddenly, he was aware that he was no longer alone. While for the briefest moment, his heart welcomed this like a hungry dog would welcome a t-bone steak, his ever keen mind reminded him of who exactly he was sharing the cave with, and he let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

"What is it Carrie? I'm doing science so hard right now…"

Carrie Kelley, whose costume looked like Tony the Tiger and one of the Thunder Cats had an illegitimate child, roller-bladed her way towards her boss's hulking form with trepidation, since the all his previous side-kicks were now dead in some way and Batman looked like he was just hankering for an excuse to belt her. Stopping on a dime, she leaned closer and said, "Boss, it's time."

The aging cogs in his damaged brain clicked together slowly, too slow for his liking. "Goddamn kids being goddamn cryptic. It's 'goddamn time' for what goddammit?"

"You know Boss," she prodded, "the…..thing. The….. 'Final Battle' or whatever you called it. That thing."

The grooves finally meshed, and a wave of despair washed over the aging crime-fighter, who for once in many many years, finally began to feel his age deep in the pits of his stomach. His broad shoulders slouched over, and seeing this rare moment of vulnerability, Carrie deftly placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She could feel it start to quiver; a combination of exhaustion…and fear.

"Goddamn, queer-ass promises!" He screamed out, slamming his arm backwards into Carries fibula and completely ruining what otherwise would have been a rare tender moment in the process. He ignored the sprawled body of his most recent kidnapping victim and stared lustfully at the screen. "I'll be back to finish you," he said quietly to the holographic projection of the pizza, "I promise you that."

And with all the agility of an aged and senile old man, he bounded for his newest iteration of the batmobile, leaving Carrier Kelley alone to ponder if her legs would be able to carry her to the nearest phone or not….

Metropolis, [Insert Other State Nam-Fuck it, Deleware]

It was a calm and pleasant evening in Metropolis. A crisp breeze was rolling over the waters of the bay. The stars twinkled in its rolling reflection. The busiest city in America was, for a rare and enjoyable moment, at peace, with most of its citizen's sound asleep and its many criminals choosing to instead gaze up at the magnificent, velvet sky.

That was until a large ball of blue, red and gold crashed into the bay with enough force to cause a tsunami. The once peaceful streets were quickly flooded with water and all manners of sea life and debris.

In an instant, a region of downtown exploded into dust and violent light. The buildings around the newly formed crater cracked and sagged and in many cases were just utterly obliterated, as were whatever occupants happened to be in them at the time. The same streaks of red and blue and gold leapt into the sky again, only to come crashing down with a, indiscernible sound that drowned out the wailing winds.

Another crater appeared in the east end of Metropolis, along with another plume of smoke and fire.

The ball of matching colours rose into the night sky again. Illuminated by the moon behind them, the figures of Superman and Wonder Woman were perfectly visible, their lips locked together like the last scrap of food on the planet was caught between their teeth, and they hadn't eaten in days.

They plummeted to the ground again, and crashed directly into a school. This time the smacking noise was clearly audible to all those unfortunate enough to have survived the ordeal.

The bounced around the city over and over again, their passionate love making like an asteroid cruising through the cretaceous period. When they rose back into the sky, they disengaged their lips from one another, and Superman said, "I promised out daughter that this world would be hers."

"And so it shall be," agreed Wonder Woman, "for we are gods!"

They embraced again and hurtled towards the Earth, plowing into it so hard that they burrowed through the ground and into the core. They broke apart again.

"And we can finally rule over these humans!" Wonder Woman exclaimed with, surprisingly, no evil laugh what-so-ever.

"Yes, as King and Queen! A House of Steel!"

The smashed their faces into each other again and shot through their newly created hole again. After they reached the highest point of the area formerly known as Metropolis, they untangled once more.

"And you'll only have to wear the Lois wig once a week!"

"Don't I get a choice?" Wonder Woman asked.

"Of course not."

Before they could either continue kissing or engage in the ritual of punching Superman square in the face, a horrid sound echoed in both of their super ears. Their enhanced vision locked onto a solitary figure on top of a ruined building, grinding a slab of marble and a bit of a steel I-beam together. Pure anger spread across their faces, and in a flash they materialized in front of the Dark Knight, who promptly threw the ruined marble and chipped steel to the ground.

"What do you want you cancerous skid-mark?" questioned Wonder Woman.

"Yeah, you can't stop us from creating our army of super-children," Superman agreed. "We will have our Master Race."

"I'm not here about that," Batman growled. "I'm here about…that other thing…"

Wonder Woman wasn't convinced. "What other thing are you talking about?"

Superman, however, understood perfectly, and his shoulders dropped in accordance with that fact. Wonder Woman noticed this, as well as the solemn look on Batman's face, and quickly the pieces fell into place in her mind.

"Oh," she said, "it's…time for that, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so," was Batman's only reply, his voice now little more than a hushed whisper. The three heroes stared at one another for a very long time, resigned to their fate. Finally, after eons, Superman spoke up.

"Then…..I suppose we'd better stop stalling."

Wonder Woman and Batman nodded in agreement and, taking each other's hands, they floated off into the sky. Their destination, the West Coast…

Burbank, California

Behind Some Dumpster:

"Well, Dan" hummed the Black Market Dealer as he poured over the dead corpse of the Trinity, his face hidden behind thick sunglasses, a hat and a Spiderman scarf, "you'll probably get a lot from Wonder Woman's organs alone." He looked over at the plump man named Dan, who was sweating profusely, and his younger side kick, who if drawn by a comic book artist, would have copious amounts of extra lines and constantly gritted teeth for some reason. "Batman's a bit on the older side, but he's got a functioning liver. 'Couple of the older crime bosses might need that if the drinkin' doesn't slow down. Supes'll have a compatibility problem but that ain't nothin' a little bit of…..ingenious marketing can't solve, 'm I right?"

The sweating fat one twiddled his thumbs nervously. "Look, we're pretty much willing to try anything at this point to get the money back. Right Jim?"

'Jim' shook his head. Dan continued.

"And you're getting a great deal here, right? All that talent and, and, well one of them's female, so diversity right? I mean these guys are a big draw, just imagine…"

"Whaddareya asking for then?" the man interrupted. "Price, I mean."

Dan looked at Jim, and Jim looked at Dan. It was Jim that answered. "At least $2 million a person for everything; clothes, organs, a couple of signed photos if you really want."

The man stroked his stubble and hummed to himself. The seconds seemed to tick by for Jim and Dan, but they held fast. The man answered with a chuckle. "You're a pretty desperate bunch, ain't yeah?"

"What?" questioned Dan with an offended tone.

"Yes," confirmed Jim with a neutral tone.

"Hmm, how bad?"

Without hesitation Jim said, "24% share. Only been higher than 30% once."

"Jesus, you're in it bad," agreed the man. He hummed to himself again and, after looking over the two men in front of him for half a second, broke out into a smile. "Alright, deal. And tell ya what, I'll even throw in the handy 'reboot guide' for you guys for free!"

Jim's eyes lit up like nuclear bombs, and feebly he reached for Dan, but the plump man had already taken off in a lunge, his hands stretching outwards towards the book. He snatched it from the man's hands, shook his hand wildly, and motioned for Jim to hurriedly follow along lest he want the lash again. They bounded down the Burbank alleyway, leaving the Black Market Dealer and three corpses of comic book icons alone in the filth.

The man started to chuckle, a wheezing sort of chuckle that one would expect from a 92 year old man. He pulled off the hat and scarf, and replaced the sunglasses with his large prescription pair. He stroked his white mustache, and when the chuckling had finally died down, he dared to glance back at the fleeing DC executives.

With a grin, he said, "Suckers," and then, raising his arms towards the sky as if to curse the name Jack Kirby forever, he bellowed, "Excelsior!"

The End. I hope.


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