Earth-3
Issue One: "They're Coming" Part One
Newscaster Arthur Brown sits, his face sweating, a tear rolling down his left cheek as he freezes still in the middle of shooting live. He stares at the cursed piece of paper on the news-desk below him, shuddering as he tries to figure out a way how to say what he needs to say. Thinking of how to stall his great scoop, he fastens his tie, fixes his glasses and rubs his hair. Arthur turns to his fellow newscaster, she shakes her head, he eyes wide. Turning to the cameraman, he can see him moth something, "I'm sorry." Arthur nods, realising his unfortunate situation, taking the punch to the gut that announcing this to the world would give.
Arthur: Breaking news... *he coughs* we have lost the... *he pauses, looking around the news set* We have lost New York in an unknown disaster. Millions of lives have been lost and from what we know, there have been no survivors. What caused this has not yet been determined, the damage caused has been calculated as worse than anything humanity has encountered. Our hearts go out to the families of those who have passed away in this catastrophe.
Light-years away, on the other side of the universe
Red space surrounds, galaxies imploding and stars dying around it, the sun becoming a dark eclipse and black wooden steps walk up to it. A dark figure is seen at the top of the stairs, a red fire burning in its hand, its long hair blowing in the non-existent wind. It seems to marvel at the death that surrounds it, cackling as it watches, its red eyes burning stronger at each chuckle. Right at the very bottom of the stairs kneels a mammoth sized man, grey rock skin and dressed in white armour. Innocent eyes, with a golden shine in them. Gold hints in his armour, and blue energy seeping from him.
Dark figure: He has come, you have lost.
Kneeling man: I haven't lost yet, the universe has not succumbed to evil just yet, there are still some people. I still have some people, people spread across every galaxy. People still with hope.
Dark figure: I have struck your last planet, your last hope in this vast sea of planets. How can you possibly defeat me now, you are but an old god, now.
Kneeling man: I suppose we're both old gods, aren't we?
Dark figure: You lack the power I have, I have the whole universe at my hands.
Kneeling man: No. No, monster. You do not. No matter how many men of anarchy, women of war, rings of fear you have, there will always be people here to stop you.
Dark Figure: Fool, you prove why I remain at the top of the stairs.+
Kneeling man: I do not desire to be at the top of the stairs, I am comfortable where I am.
Dark figure: Knowing that you've been defeated?
Kneeling man: Knowing that you'll eventually be defeated. I may only have one, two or three, but you fail to see that it makes no difference. We will grow, we will expand and there will be nothing you can do to stop us, my friend. Nothing.
Dark figure: We'll see how you feel when the next sign comes, old god. It'll come very shortly.
Just entering the Milky Way
Breaking the wall between galaxies, a small green fire shoots into our galaxy, causing two stars to die due to its shockwave, the radiation seeping through the deep space, lights going out left and right. It brings death wherever it goes, brings terror, brings fear. As it gets closer, closer, it comes near Pluto, obliterating it, throwing it out of orbit instantly as it shoots through it, knocking the dwarf planet out of sight. It seems to be small, no more long or wide than two inches, but then again, it can change to suit its wearer. Curved, circular, not too long, a ring with a symbol of death on it, it's thinking, plotting.
Ring Narration:
He can't be far behind, now. The other sectors are gone, gone by now, no... I'm the last one now. I must complete my mission. I must spread the fear. I must do what the others have failed to do.
Gotham City
A dark figure perches on the corner of a building, crouching next to the gargoyles, his kind, the kind that watch over and protect, a guardian of the night. His cape blows in the strong Gotham winds, almost never ending. Its ruby colours flow, creating a river of blood, and the tide is coming in. Covering his head is a red mask, with a black hood over it, connected to the cape while a white shirt and black tie are under a black bulletproof vest, with black sleeves. Under his mask, he scowls, watching as a double act of sexually repressed men corner a hapless woman, their knives ready, their faces hungry. He pounces at his prey, he protects.
Red Hood Narration:
Needed to get the bad taste of New York out of my mouth, all of the death, all of the screaming children and the bodies. The smell of burning rubber and dead bodies has already seeped into Gotham, it's contagious. It's been worse than ever tonight.
Zooming down to the ground, Red Hood drop kicks one of the pigs, the scum. The woman screams louder, unaware that her life had just been saved, her guts intact. As soon as he lands, he turns to give the other his right hook to the face, not knocking him down, but startling him and giving the red protector a chance to sweep kick him.
Red Hood Narration:
The bastards, they're lucky I draw the line at killing. Their violence is the thing that infects this city, their violence makes this city burn, their sins. Their sins plague it, soften and corrupt their defences, all but one. Me. I walk my path of justice alone.
One of the men rises back up, blood pouring from their eyebrow area, swinging his knife at the Red Hood, who dodges leaping backwards and then roundhouse kicking the infected cell in the city's body. He's out cold. The woman runs, screaming until her head explodes, Red Hood just stands there, his cape going wild.
Red Hood: Don't mention it, lady.
The other man tries to get up, Red Hood stamping out his flame with his foot.
Red Hood Narration:
Sleep now, bastard.
Kane Hall, Metropolis
Lex stands from the crowd on his own outside, on the balcony in the glowing night, the distinctive gold light of the 1930's art deco buildings shines at him, smiling at him and Luthor giving a disappointed scowl to it. Cheering is heard, a toast, cheering and happiness, fun and laughter.
Lex Narration:
The smell has already arrived, the bodies, the smoke. I can't help but think of the children in that city, they had yet to start their lives. Our next president could've been in there, our next great inventor, even a hairdresser, dreams of the future destroyed and torn down at the blink of an eye. Is life so harsh? This city, this golden city, doesn't seem to be paying attention. That smell doesn't even come across them. They call Metropolis the city of lights, the city of gold, the city of hope. I'm not seeing much hope.
A tall man exits the building onto the balcony, he has a massive frame, his muscles almost poking out of his tuxedo, black hair, greying a bit but his face cheerful.
?: Why don't you come and join us, Lex?
Lex: Why don't you come and join me, Tom?
Tom: Still mourning?
Lex: Aren't we all?
Tom: Indeed. It's a terrible thing, Lex.
Lex: I appreciate you throwing this fundraiser but people don't realise what it's about... where their money is going.
Tom: You know how it is with them, throw in a few thousand dollars, keep a good reputation for the public to see.
Lex: That's my problem, they don't care about the world. It's going to hell and they all seem... indifferent. They're not doing anything to help. You can't just throw some money at a problem and expect it to be solved.
Tom: Then what do you do, Lex?
Lex: At least try to make a difference.
Tom: Then make a difference, Lex. You'll find a way. To be honest, I think we all need to make a difference.
Lex: Good luck on your campaign, Mr. Wayne, and tell Bruce I said hi.
Tom: I will.
The McDonough Hotel, Metropolis, a few hours later
The door creaks open, Tom Wayne Jr. walking into the hotel room, his tall, but lanky and elderly bodyguard, Alfred Pennyworth following behind him. It's dark, all but for two white circles in the middle of the room lit. Alfred closes the door behind him, Tom looking confused. As he looks closely, Tom sees a man, in a type of armour and a helmet/mask. Chuckling is heard in the room, Tom getting scared.
?: Big brother.
Tom: Bruce...
Owlman: Owlman.
Tom: Bruce, what are you doing?
Owlman: You got in the way of my plan, Thomas.
Tom: Bruce, what is this?
Owlman: This is anarchy, and you're bringing order.
Tom: What?
Owlman: Outsider.
Alfred grabs Tom by the back, drawing his knife and carving an "O" on the side of Tom's cheek, cackling an old, devious laugh as a gun shot is heard, Tom dropping, bleeding out.
Owlman: Mother and Father never understood, you don't get in the way of my mission. Nobody gets in the way of OUR mission.
Tom: You killed...!? You bastard!
Owlman quickly fires again, Tom's brains exploding, his blood draining and soaking the carpet.
Owlman: Silence, brother. You sleep now...sleep now, brother.
The Narrows, Gotham City
Bright bronze Gotham night streets are turned red as the Red Hood slowly walks through a crowded street, crowded with the dead, men in suits, women in expensive dresses, their hats blowing in the wind, briefcases releasing seemingly important papers and soaking them in the red sea. He kneels, observing the body closest to him, his hand on his chin.
Red Hood Narration:
This is supposed to be the good side of Gotham, but I suppose that's saying being shot in the head is better than being hanged, you'll die either way, but I guess one is less painful. The bullets look like they were sprayed, the wounds are in too random of places to be purposefully placed. Bullet shells...from a tommygun... similar to... no, it can't be her. Not in my city. No. It's not mob related, everybody in this town is on the take, I can practically smell the money pouring from their ears. Speaking of money, the contents of their wallets, purses, pockets are all seemingly intact... from what I see, nothing has been stolen. It was a joy crime, someone insane, someone who belongs in a straightjacket. The odds are adding up, it might me her. But the red ribbon, the red ribbon left at the scene of the crime... no... Mad Julie Madison is here... in my city.
The Next Day, Luthor Mansion
Constant knocking is heard, then the television's constant uttering bleeding into Lex Luthor's mind. He awakens, sitting up in his shirt and grey trousers, his shoes off but socks on and a splitting headache.
Arthur Brown (TV): ...BREAKING NEWS, presidential candidate, Thomas Wayne Jr. has been killed in his room in the McDonough hotel, further details have not been released to the press just yet but...
Lex: What...?
?: Lex!
Lex makes his way to his feet, groaning, his head carrying ten tons of weight, his eyes bloodshot, his mind clouded. The knocking is heard again, and the shouting, the voice sounds female to him, but then again, drinking himself to sleep tampers with his thinking process just a slight bit. Waddling down the stairs to the front door, he opens and answers. She's a quite small woman, her hair wildly curled and her glasses wonky.
Lex: Lois...?
Lois: They're hiding something, Lex, you're the only person I could find...
Lex: I really don't have the time for this right now, Lois.
Lois: I know what happened to New York, Lex.
TO BE CONTINUED.