Making some changes
Slinging Clark's corpse over my shoulder (the traces of kryptonite in his stab wound were enough to make me ill, but I pushed through it) I shoot Bruce's burning husk one last look. I have never been a fan of Batman, but I had grown up with him.
Twice, even.
I didn't agree with his beliefs, but by God did I respect the way that he held to them. Giving his corpse a dip of my head, I feel an odd melancholy come over me as I stand amidst the remains of the greatest heroes this universe has ever known.
"I am sorry, Bruce. But coexistence was never an option. Not between us."
And with those words, I bend my knees and blast out of the ruined warehouse. Retracing my steps is easy enough as the day starts getting brighter and brighter. I'm sure I'm spotted by more than a few people, but the ordinary humans aren't of any real concern to me.
What are they gonna do to me? Arrest me? I'd like to see the cop dumb enough to try.
Within minutes, I've arrived back at the Kryptonian Scout Ship. I had hoped that it would at least be able to fly by now, but I guess that it was more banged up than I had initially realized. Still, most of the lights were back on, so that was a plus at least.
A drawback to the increased activity of the ship was that there was a small platoon stationed not even a hundred yards away from the entrance, guns at the ready. An annoyance, one which would could be dealt with quickly.
I descend from my arc high through the air, still riding the energy of my latest jump, landing perfectly in front of the entrance to the ship in a great explosion of gravel and dust. Of course, the humans immediately start panicking, and my sensitive ears pick up the sound of multiple guns being cocked.
Straightening, I shoot them a look over my shoulder, as I see one of the higher-ups grab for a megaphone (not that he would need it, as I could hear him whisper under his breath even from this distance).
He starts yelling through the megaphone, not quite able to keep a tremor out of his voice as he orders me to stand down or something (I don't really care enough to bother with listening to his panicked babbling).
Letting Clark's corpse fall off my shoulder, I briefly scan the torn up ground around me. The commander, seeing that he's being ignored, ups his volume, but I just tune him out. My eyes quickly find what I had been looking for, and I bend forwards to pick up a chunk of rock that fits comfortably in my hand.
"He's got a weapon! Fire! Fire! Fire!"
A staccato of thunderous noise and flashing lights erupts from their frontline, about a third of the bullets not even impacting me. Those that do flatten themselves on my body as if they were made out of tinfoil. I simply stand there tanking the bullets for a few seconds, after which the spray of projectiles starts to die off.
As the soldiers and I stare at each other (them with terrified expression, me with the tiniest smirk) I lift my hand holding the rock. At the motion, most of the soldiers immediately throw themselves to the ground.
However, they have nothing to fear from me, not right now at least. There's nothing to be gained but inconvenience if I were to kill a score of US Military soldiers. So instead I aim at the turret mounted on the back of one of their humvees.
The moment the piece of rock leaves my hand, it shoots forwards in a ball of flaming stone, the friction of slamming through multiple sound barriers within mere seconds sufficient to start melting it and igniting the air surrounding it.
It looks kinda like a miniature meteor, if said meteor was the size of my fist and flying horizontally, that is.
With the sound of an explosion and the screech of tearing metal, the rock sheers the turret clean off the humvee, leaving a trail of molten metal in its wake. None of the humans are harmed, though they are looking terrified out of their minds (the commander has dropped his megaphone).
In the stunned silence following my "attack" I can't help myself.
Taking a step forwards (causing them to collectively take a step back) I raise my fist at them as I gain a thunderous expression, lighting up my eyes for good measure.
"Get the hell off mah lawn!"
Seeing the dumbfounded expressions on their faces, I can't help but chuckle as I turn away from them, grabbing Clark's body and making my way inside the ship, it's automatic blast doors closing smoothly behind me.
The drones are somewhere in the ship, but I'm pretty sure they can still hear me so I call out to them.
"Service Droids!"
"Yes sir?" a voice sounds from hidden speakers in the walls, like Krypton's version of Jarvis.
"Place this body in storage. It contains the Codex: extract it."
"Yes sir."
"How long until the ship is fully operational?"
"Estimation: Error. Current resources are insufficient to repair ship to it's full operational status. Multiple systems will remain offline until the necessary resources have been gathered. Current offline systems: Shield emitters. Anti-Grav modules. Battle stations. Cloaking-"
"Alright, thank you. Scan this planet for the materials required to repair the ship, then send the list to me. I'll see what I can aquire."
"Yes sir. Please hold for five minutes for a mobile communications device to be fabricated."
"Very well. Update me if outside forces are attempting a breach."
"Yes sir."
Clark's body secured for now, I focus on my next objective. The ship is durable enough that the Army would need to bring out their big guns in order to make their way inside and I should be able to shoot to the ship's defence in time to defend it from the worst the US Military could field.
I could start negotiating with the US Government to leave me the hell alone, but that would take time, time my potential enemies could use to prepare for my downfall. No, I had to strike the iron while it was still hot. Most of Bruce's and Clark's loose ends were still unaware of their deaths: I had to get rid of them while they were still off guard.
Back to Gotham I go then.
Making my way outside five minutes later, an earpiece now resting comfortably on my head, I spot a single soldier making their way towards me in a hurry. He seems unarmed and his fatigues differ from the outfit of the rest of the platoon. Either a superior or a runner from another division then.
I'm about to ignore him, turning away from him as I prepare to rush towards Gotham, but his shout halts me in my tracks.
"Wait!"
What catches my attention is that it is phrased less as an order but more of a plea. Intrigued despite the clock ticking away, I turn back towards the lone soldier, who seems relieved I haven't jumped a block away from him.
"I don't like being told what to do." I rumble at him, causing the color to leave his cheeks, though to his credit his posture remains the picture perfect standard of military precision.
"I understand sir. I won't hold you up for long, I promise. However, my superiors… have a few questions-"
"And what if I'm not in the mood for answering questions?"
The kid (and he is a kid, barely older than twenty, fresh-faced and wide-eyed) swallows briefly before he soldiers (heh) on.
"We would understand, sir. But we would really like some answers. This is all very… unprecedented."
"No it isn't. The Government, the Army, the whole world stood idly by and watched when the Kryptonians walked the Earth, engaging in clashes that leveled a good part of this very city. Now, I am the Last Kryptonian, and once again, the Government and the Army will stand idly by and watch. There shall be no interference in my affairs whatsoever, or I'll repeat the feats of Zod… and this time, there is no Superman to save you. Tell that to your superiors." I seethe as I loom over the young soldier, playing up the fear factor as much as possible.
Of course, some crude threats aren't nearly enough to hammer out some accord between me and the US (or the rest of the world's governments, for that matter) but hopefully it'll buy me enough time to take out the real players first.
Amazingly, while I can smell his fear, the kid doesn't even take a single step away from me, looking me straight in the eye as he gives a crisp salute.
"Yes sir!"
Somewhat impressed, I raise an eyebrow at him, amusement welling up inside me as he remains standing like that, trembling hand raised to his sweating brow.
"What's your name son?"
"Adam, sir! Nathaniel Adam!"
My other eyebrow rises as well, as I look at a man who in most versions of this universe had become one of the most powerful beings in existence. Catpain Atom, in the living flesh (a rarity for him).
Since he's not a living mass of energy contained in a metallic alloy (and in the wrong Military branch, as I distinctly remember his origin story revealing he was Air Force before being "killed") I suppose that the Captain Atom might still be a while off… if he even will exist in this universe at all.
Putting inter-dimensional differences out of my mind, I offer the young man a slight grin.
"At ease soldier. Report back to your superiors and let them kick my message up the chain: dealing with the likes of me is way over your paygrade kid."
And with that that little nugget of wisdom, I turn away from Nathaniel Adam, bend my knees and blast off, soaring through the skies for a few long moments before I crash down to Earth again, my legs pumping away as my surroundings vanish in a blur.
Again, reaching Gotham is a matter of mere minutes. Finding a clown with a twisted sense of humor is another matter entirely. However, the lay of the criminal underworld wasn't entirely unknown to me, as I had had to perform plenty of missions there for Luthor.
The Joker had been active ever since my teenage years (and had consequently been responsible for a whole different slew of nightmares when I first saw his victims on the news, up until my body count began to rival his) and while the madman was notoriously elusive (giving even Batman the slip on multiple occasions, though he did do a stint in Arkham) it was generally agreed upon by internet forums and criminology experts alike that the Joker had various haunts spread throughout the slums and docks of Gotham.
And I probably had the best senses on the planet right now.
It was still early morning, which meant that it was late for the Gotham night-life. Still, I should be able to track the major hubs of activity in the surrounding areas. Relying on my hearing (which seemed to be capable of picking up sounds from multiple city blocks away with ridiculous ease) I started tracking down the still open drug dens and underground parties, hopping from rooftop to rooftop as I made my way further and further towards the docks.
I was about to turn away from the waterside and loop towards the other outskirts of the city centre when a particular sound caught my attention. Had I heard it while I had still been human it might have inspired unease within me, but now I merely felt amusement.
It was a laugh.
I had found my target.
Making a sharp turn at the top of a dilapidated building, causing a spray of gravel, I rush towards the edge of the roof, pushing off at the last moment with enough force that part of its facade crumbles away in my wake. Soaring over several rows of abandoned warehouses and grimy back alleys, I land with a thunderous crash in an abandoned street that would've looked right at home in a Blade movie when the titular badass stumbled on yet another vampire den.
What was inside the building I had landed in front of was far more dangerous than a mere vampire however. My crash landing had rattled the surrounding buildings down to their foundations, so I wasn't surprised that when I approached the steel door of the seemingly abandoned building, a bouncer burst outside, hand on the gun at his waist.
The moment his eyes land on me and widen in shock, it's already too late for him: I've crossed the several feet between us faster than he can blink, nonchalantly giving his chest a firm shove, sending him flying back into the building with a shattered ribcage.
I have no issue with getting him out of my way with such force due to spotting several tattoos on him that signified his status as a Joker henchman (the predictable playing cards, HA HA's and smiles of course).
Nobody was going to mourn his passing.
Nobody who mattered anyways.
Ducking through the door opening, I find myself in a darkly lit hallway which leads into the main dance floor of the underground club, if the strobing and colored lights that I can see flashing from around the corner are any indication.
Plus, you know, there's the fact that I had already looked through the entire building with my X-Ray Vision before I had even stepped foot inside.
Continuing at a brisk pace, I pass the corpse of the bouncer where he is embedded in the far wall, rounding the corner and emerging onto the dancefloor of Joker's little club. I waste no time cutting across the dance floor, most of the people quickly clearing a path for me when they see me approach. Those who had their backs to me (and those who are simply too far gone to notice me) I shoulder out of my way with ease.
I ignore the shocked gaps of those who see the plating across my head and neck, ignore the choked off protests of those I pushed out of my way when they see who they are dealing with, ignore the way the music suddenly cuts out, a deathly silence settling over the club.
I ignore it all, instead keeping my attention focused on a single man.
And he's looking back at me with equal intensity.
Predictably, instead of looking worried or angry, he merely looks intrigued, and he quickly starts chuckling, which erupts into full-blown laughter as his eyes slide past me and spot the dead bouncer.
"Oh my! What a prize do we have here?!" he laughs with manic glee as he jumps up from the couch he had been lounging on, his arms spread out wide.
Then suddenly his laugh cuts off, and his head whips back in my direction with a speed that almost makes me think he snapped his own neck, his voice now low and sultry.
"What's your name, big boy?"
Deciding to have a little fun with the man who scared me for so much of my second childhood (when he had been fictional, I had simply dismissed him as an overrated character with an annoying shtick who's main audience were edgy teenagers. That view had done a 180 when I had seen his flayed victims on Fox News), I merely give out a small smile as I keep approaching him.
"I don't really think it's my name you should be interested in, Joker."
He really doesn't like the fact that I'm not playing his game, his chin dipping as he stares at me from underneath his eyebrows with dead eyes promising the worst kinds of torture man has ever conceived.
Undaunted, I walk up the short stairs to his VIP area, my hands kept loosely at my side.
"No, there's another man's name that is far more interesting, I think you'll agree."
I come to a halt mere feet away from him as he starts pacing, though his murderous eyes never leave mine.
"Really now…." he drawls, briefly pulling back his red lips, exposing his silver teeth.
"And who is this other person? This, nameless man, who's oh so interesting?" he asks, his tone becoming more growling as he starts losing his patience in the face of my calm demeanor.
"A mutual acquaintance of ours." I reply, and now I can't keep a full-blown grin from forming on my face.
"Goes by the name of… Bruce."
At the name of his greatest nemesis, Joker comes to a halt, the menacing aura from before vanishing within the blink of an eye as he straightens and stares at me with an expression of shock. I can tell from his micro-expressions that he's trying to deny what I'm implying, but my knowing smirk is enough to tell him what he needs to know.
"What… did you do?" He breathes, his eyes as wide as they'll go, his hands trembling.
Seeing the man who had caused me so many nightmares during my second lifetime look up at me like a parent or a lover bracing themselves to hear the bad news they already suspect in their heart, fills me with a savage joy.
I wasn't the nicest guy in the world. Even before Luthor sunk his claws deeper and deeper into my psyche with every passing day. Still, that didn't meant that I enjoyed the suffering of others. It was the one thing that I had clung to as I sunk deeper and deeper into evil at Lex's side, the one thing that proved to myself that I wasn't as far gone as the real monsters of this world.
But for the psychotic piece of shit in front of me? A man who had inflicted so much pain and suffering on the world for no other purpose than his own sick amusement?
I'd be happy to stretch his torment to the end of days.
It's the reason why I hadn't simply thrown a rock through his head with pinpoint accuracy from a mile away once I had spotted him in this building. The man who had caused me so many sleepless nights, who had had a part in cementing my belief that my daunting Plan was the only way to guarantee my survival, deserved a more… personal send-off.
I take a step closer to him, my grin growing even wider as I drop my voice to a low whisper.
"I killed him, Joker. In his moment of triumph… when his back was turned, I descended upon him as he had done so many times upon you and yours... it was so easy… like swatting a fly-"
"NO!" the Joker screams in horror as he backs away from me, eyes wild and rolling as he tries to deny the fact that one of (if not the) defining factor of his life, of his very identity was taken from him.
"No, no, no no nonononono!" He screams, grasping at his temples as saliva sprays from his lips with each desperate chant.
"Search your feelings! You know it to be true! I killed him! I snapped his body like a twig!"
"Shut up!"
I tore his jaw straight from his fucking head! ME!"
"Shut up!"
"Your beloved Batman, crushed and reduced to nothing but ashes! By! ME! You'll never get to play your little games with him anymore Joker! All because of me!"
"SHUT UP!" the crazed maniac roars with anguish in his voice, ripping a long knife from the back of his belt, rushing forwards and raking it across my throat with blinding speed.
Had I still been human, even with my decades of training, the sheer speed, savagery and unexpectedness of the attack were still sufficient enough that I probably would've been bleeding out just from the Joker's opening strike.
But I was far from human.
The Joker is panting, looking up at me with crazed eyes and a painfully large smile, chuckles slipping past his clenched silver teeth. Slowly, the chuckles die off as his eyes turn from manic glee to outright confusion.
He looks from my unblemished throat to the blade in his hand and then back to my throat again. He briefly tests the edge of the blade against his thumb, and when it immediately draws blood, he nods in satisfaction before once again striking out as fast as a snake (which to me looks as if he's moving in slow-motion).
The blade scrapes uselessly across my chest, and the two follow up strikes against my abdomen accomplish equally little.
He gives a hateful snarl as he pants, looking up at my clearly amused form, before he lets out a challenging roar and dashes forwards, both hands wrapped firmly around the handle of his long knife. As he stabs towards my stomach, the blade snaps upon impact with the Kryptonian suit, and the enhanced flesh underneath.
The Joker is panting as he looks at his broken blade, before he throws it away with a scream of animalistic rage (the knife nearly lodges itself in the back of the DJ's head), closing in on me until our chests are touching, his face drawn in a snarl as he looks up at me.
"HE WASN'T YOURS TO TAKE! HE! WAS! MINE!"
My grin turns sharp as I lean forwards.
"That's just the thing Joker: I just plain don't give a shit about you, or what you want. Not anymore."
He has just enough time to turn red with sheer rage before my arm shoots forwards, my hand slamming into his chest. His face turns into an expression of pained shock as blood starts flowing down my forearm and pools onto the floor.
He lets out a pained gasp as I effortlessly lift my arm up, with him impaled on it, until his legs are left dangling three feet off the floor.
For a moment, the Joker and I merely look in each others eyes, my expression one of satisfaction, his one of pain and rage. A horrified scream breaks us out of staring contest thought.
Glancing to the side, I see the ever beautiful Margot Robbie in torn clothes and under a heavy layer of make-up, staring in horror as her lover is hoisted up in the air by a behemoth of a man, who has his hand buried in her lover's chest.
Grinning, I speak up.
"Good news, Miss Quinzel! As it turns out, the Joker does have a heart! I have the proof right here in my hand!" I say with a laugh, causing Harley's shocked eyes to shift towards me instead, tears starting to flow down her cheeks.
I'm taken off guard by the sound of chuckling, and I look in surprise at the grinning face of the Joker, blood spilling past his teeth and flowing down his chin.
"T-that… was p-pretty… funny." he chokes out, manic grin still firmly in place.
For a moment, the two of us simply stare at each other.
"Thanks. Asshole."
And with that, I clench my hand into a fist, pulverizing most of his vital organs, causing a torrent of blood to erupt from his mouth, Harleen's pained wail cutting through the air. I stare into the Joker's eyes until I can see the light leaving them. I fling the maniac off my arm, sending him crashing into the brickwork of the far wall with a the sound of snapping bones ringing through the silent club, before he slides to the ground.
Of course, much like the Batman, merely seeing a dead body doesn't mean that he won't somehow show up again somewhere down the line. In order to remedy that little flaw I send energy towards my eyes, which start to get uncomfortably warm, almost as if I've rubbed my eyes after handling onions or peppers or something.
When I feel that I cannot contain the energy in my eyes any longer, I push and two beams of light erupt from my eyes and impact Joker's corpse, slamming it back into the wall and setting it on fire.
And thus ends one of Batman's greatest enemies: a smear on the ground of some dingy club in the slums of Gotham.
Disposed off without any effort whatsoever.
Harley's eyes are fixed on the burning husk, a silent wail tearing from her throat as she sinks to her knees, tears freely flowing down her cheeks. For a moment, she looks so… broken, I briefly wonder whether I should still kill her or simply walk away.
After all, she isn't much of a threat to me.
However, after a brief moment of contemplation, I decide to go through with killing her after all. She was going to have a vendetta against me after I killed the Joker in front of her, and while it was likely going to be ineffectual, there was always the possibility that some of the Joker's Plot-related superpowers have rub off on her, which might become a problem.
Even if that wasn't the case, an ineffectual vendetta, while not dangerous to me personally, would still be a bother to deal with and it might even cost me the allegiance or even the lives of any potential allies of mine down the line.
As I take a step towards her, her eyes snap towards me, a crazed look in them, void of any reasoning or sanity whatsoever. With another scream, she reaches into her handbag, pulling out a handgun of truly prodigious size. It looks almost comical (heh. get it?) in her dainty hands, but she is quick to aim the thick barrel straight at my head, and starts pulling the trigger.
I could dodge the bullets, but I don't really see a need to. Besides, if I do dodge them, they might hit some of the partygoers instead, and there's no reason to endanger them (any further). Counting the bullets and literally looking into her weapon to see how much ammo she has left, I wait until the final one is in the chamber before I burst into action.
I shoot forwards, splintering the wood underneath me as I appear in front of the grieving woman in a blur, my head right in front of her gun. Her eyes widen in shock at my survival and sudden movement, and for a long second we merely look at each other.
Then she fires her last bullet and my head whips back. I slowly tilt back, appearing to be defeated from that final bullet at point-blank range… right until I can hear her small sigh of relief. Then I regain my balance, my footfall heavy in the silence of the nightclub.
As I turn my head back towards her, she shrinks away from me in fear. I pull back my lips, showing her the bullet that I caught between my teeth. Briefly her eyes widen in surprise, before I close my mouth, purse my lips, and spit the bullet out.
Like Luthor (my chest still aches whenever I think about the despicably evil human) Harleen now sports a neat little round in the middle of her forehead. Before her form has even crumpled to the ground, I turn away from her, leaving the club.
While it feels good to have killed the Joker (even though I'm annoyed by the fact that he went out laughing), I still feel doubts over killing Harleen. She just looked so… broken and scared at the end.
Then again, it's not the first time that I've been on the receiving end of such a look, and still pulled the trigger.
The difference this time was that, had I shown mercy, I wouldn't have had to worry about Lex having me drawn and quartered (no, I'm not being metaphorical. It was a phase of his when he took a few History electives back in College… those were dark days indeed). I chose to kill her on my own volition. Yes, I had rationalized it to myself, but the point was that I hadn't needed to. And then there was how I had killed her. There had been no need to play with her like that: before she had even fired the first bullet I could have taken her head clean off, either through lasers or fists.
By abandoning my human body, had I abandoned whatever little humanity I had left as well?
It was because of these profound and troubling questions tumbling through my mind as I walked outside that I wasn't prepared for what happened next. There was a blur of motion, the glint of the morning sun on polished steel and then a massive force slammed into me, sending me flying down the length of the street.
I came to a halt by digging my hands in the asphalt beneath my tumbling form, my fingers digging deep furrows. Zod's remaining instincts, combined with my superior senses, allowed me to catch the sound of something- no, someone very strong pushing off, a blur of motion on the edge of my sight.
With a roar, I surge forwards myself, throwing a strong jab straight at the approaching form. It twists, bringing up a disc of metal at the very last moment, and my fist crashes into a shield. The impact is loud enough that it could be mistaken for a cannon-shot, the air visibly distorting from the sheer force as my opponent is sent flying backwards, though they manage to keep their feet on the ground, digging deep furrows in the ruined street as well.
My suspicions about my opponent's identity are confirmed when Diana of Themyscira lowers her shield (now with the imprint of my knuckles in it), glaring over its edge with a focused expression of controlled anger, the blade of her sword held high and resting against the side of her shield.
"What is the meaning of this?!" I roar as I stalk forwards.
Diana is powerful, there's no denying that. More skilled as well, due to the sheer amount of years that she has spent training with some of the finest warriors on the planet. Still, I am far stronger and faster than her, with the half-ingrained reflexes and skill of one of the greatest Generals in the history of Krypton.
If I struck hard and fast and didn't get cocky, I should be able to win this. Not effortlessly, but victory was definitely attainable.
Still, if the situation could be defused somehow, then-
"You killed them! You killed them both!" Diana shouts back at me.
Well. There goes that plan.
The only warning I get is the furrowing of her brow before she's shooting towards me again at speeds that rival my own. Lowering my stance, I bare my teeth as I prepare to trade blows with the strongest woman on the planet.
She rears back her sword while I pull back my fist, and with loud roars the battle is begun.
Fun Fact: Gal Gadot had no idea she was auditioning for Wonder Woman. The casting was a secret, so she got a part to read without being told who the character was. After reading her lines, she went back to Israel, where she got the call from Zack Snyder revealing whose lines she had been reading.
AN: Originally, I had wanted to include the fight and dialogue between Mark and Wonder Woman in this chapter as well, but it's nearly 1AM and I do still have classes. As such, the reason for WW sudden appearance will be explained in the next chapter. As for Nathaniel Adams, he just... popped up somehow. It's probably going to remain a cameo, unless he somehow manages to worm his way into the story and steal far more screen time than I had planned for him (most of my characters have that annoying habit).
Tremendous shout-out to my beloved Patrons: Justlovereadin, Daniel Dorfman, Carn Krauss, Samuel Carson, Thordur Hrafn and ReaperScythe! Your continued support means a lot to me, thank you so much!
