The beach was a hotbed of activity. The white sands, normally so immaculate, so pristine were scared with hasty footprints, the impression of four bodies sprawled across it.
An army of women, bronzed skin, sandals, white wrap around blouses and skirts, had the strangers surrounded. Armed with archaic weapons; spears, swords, bows and arrows the women stood ready, balanced on the edge of violence. For the first time in their long history, confusion was deeply etched into every beautiful face that stared at the four newcomers.
It wasn't the manner in which they arrived that had the women of Themyscera agitated. Others had come to the small island in manners almost as outlandish. A moment before a strange, brackish vortex had appeared in the skies above Themyscera. It was only there an instant before discharging the quartet.
Two women and two men.
Both of the men wore garish costumes. The younger, judging by his youthful face was dressed all in leather, white leather tank top, a black leather jacket, and tight black leather pants. A shock of white hair struck a sharp contrast with the rest of his light sandy brown hair. Women outside of Themyscera would consider him attractive and while they could admire his beauty, it was clinical and objective, admiring a finely carved statue brought more pleasure to their lives.
The other man was dressed in a deep blood red, form-fitting body suit. A stylized double D emblazoned on his chest and two small devils' horns protruded from his forehead. The lower part of his face mouth, chin, and part of his checks were all that was visible.
Hippolyta shivered at the human effigy of the Christian devil. Long ago, she had given up her attempts to understand the minds of men.
One of the woman, a brunette was tall and thin. A delicate tattoo decorated the small of her back. She was ripe, in the prime of her maturity and with a full life ahead of her. There was a sense of divinity about her, as if the gods favored her with their blessing.
The other woman, was in fact little more then a child. She was a marvel of a girl whose body was just beginning to blossom, hinting at what was to come with age. Long limbs, slim waist, a graceful swan neck. Even at such a young age her body showed signs of a strenuous training regimen. Her eyes were an unusually deep jade green and her thick, luxuriant hair that nearly touched the small of her back, was a rich shade of forest green.
It was the men themselves that caused the confusion in the island defenders. For several months now there has been much debate in altering the age old law that all men who come to Themyscera either be driven off or killed. It has been proposed that those who stumbled upon their shores by happenstance or misfortune, be allowed to reside on the beach until rescue could be arranged. Several women had pointed out that it wouldn't be difficult since Diana had left them with a long-range communication device in the event an emergency arose upon the island. Even Diana would agree, a man being on the shores of Themyscera was an emergency.
As it stood right now though only a handful of men were allowed to set foot upon Themyscera, an honor awarded them for their assistance in preventing Hades from releasing hell on Earth. It was their aid, selfless acts of heroism, that turned the tide and saved the world. When they came, it was never unannounced, and normally dire events prompted their visitation. Most of the time her daughter, Diana, accompanied them.
Still, laws were in place; woman who stumbled upon Themyscera were tolerated, until they could be returned to the world outside. A few chose to stay, but it was rare.
For men, it was still death to set foot on the island and as their queen one she was forced to uphold all the laws.
Mat groaned hoarsely as he rolled over, trying to push himself up. His senses felt overloaded, as if he stood in the heart of an inferno while thunder crashed directly overhead. His radar was skewered. Everything felt off, the air smelt too clean.
Dozens of hostile thoughts roused Nate. The throbbing through his body was a bramble under his skin, an irritant he shoved to the farthest reaches of his consciousness. Everywhere he went on this world it was the same thing. Everybody hunted him, hounded him. He was getting tired of it.
And now, dozens of armed women wanted him dead simply because he was on their island.
"I am Hippolyta, Queen of Themyscera. You have trespassed upon our land."
Samantha felt something bad was about to happened… Something badder, anyway. As if being sucked through an unknown portal and spat out the other side wasn't bad enough. To top it off she had unknowingly broken some sort of law. Hopefully the penalty wouldn't be too sever, or they would take into account mitigating circumstances. Her mom would be so proud of her for thinking of that one. Her body ached like never before, not even an entire day training under her "Uncle" Bruce's watchful eye. He was actually her second cousin, but to her, he was Uncle Bruce. She forced her muscles to work, despite their screaming protest, and pushed herself to one knee.
"The women of your group are welcome to stay as long as it takes to provide transport back to the world outside."
Samantha didn't think that was so bad, the sun was shining brilliantly out of a high sky, the air was warm but the cool breeze coming in off the ocean kept it from being sweltering. Then she saw the woman's eyes harden and Samantha knew the hammer was about to fall.
Before Hippolyta could speak, Nate Gray growled deep in his gut. His left eye glowed with incandescent energy as his power surged within him. "You think to kill me Amazon Queen?" He lashed out with a telekinetic whip sending Hippolyta and a number of other warriors flying backwards.
Cordelia dove to the ground, somehow sensing the attack. "This is so not good," she mumbled. Not for the first time Cordelia wondered if she should ask about hazard pay. Her life was one adventure after another. With her life hanging in the balance more often then not.
Surprised that she remembered Angel's training, Cordelia rolled, came up in a crouch next to the only other man on the island.
He breathed deeply: slow, calm, and relaxed. Cordelia had the sense that he was in a great deal of pain. "We have to get you out of here," she said in a rush.
Matt winced at the sound of her voice, it was like the rapport of a gun going off only a few inches from his head. He tramped the pain down, there was too much at stake to let it hinder him. "We have to stop him."
Cordelia rolled her eyes, wanting to know why she always had to stumble upon self-sacrificing morons. "Maybe it's escaped your notice, but there's an entire Island of Amazons that want you dead."
Matt stared at her with unseeing eyes. He was still able to see her, in a manner of speaking. The scent of her, the sound of her, the feel of her, her heat, her concern for him; the steady, rhythmic thud of her heart. Obviously she was use to high stress situations like the one they found themselves in. There was something more then human in her scent.
He refused to believe that one rational person ever wanted to kill another. Ending a life wasn't something any sane person took lightly. He was positive that given a chance he could successfully argue his case.
There wasn't time to explain any of this to the young girl. Another crisis needed to be resolved first. "His name is X-Man, he's a powerful mutant; telepath, telekinetic. He came out of nowhere a few years back. He was reported dead some months ago—"
"That's great," Cordelia cut him off. He sounded like Giles just sitting there rattling off facts. "But who are you?"
Matt froze, the question had taken him by surprise. In New York, everybody knew who Daredevil was. Air temperature, all the tropical aromas carried on the breeze made it quite clear he wasn't in New York. "Daredevil," he finally said.
Cordelia looked at him blankly. It was clear by the way he said his name that it was supposed to have meaning. She didn't have a clue what though.
It took little more then a simple thought, a desire really, and Samantha triggered her transformation. Her skin turned darker, becoming a deep emerald hue as her body mass increased. With each heartbeat it doubled. In only a few seconds Samantha grew fourteen inches going from just over five feet to just under seven, she packed on more then seven hundred pounds of ultra dense muscle. The white sand compressed under her massive weight as it increased and she sank several inches.
"Are people suppose to be able to do that?" Cordelia whispered to herself.
She wasn't expecting a response, didn't think anybody other then Angel and Conner, or any other vampire that happened to be around, possibly even Buffy and Faith, would have heard her question. When Matt said, "A few," it took her by surprise.
"Stop!" Samantha bellowed at the top of her lungs. The sound wave alone was enough to make the Amazons brace themselves. Even Nate had to secure himself inside a telekinetic bubble to keep from being brushed back.
Instead of having a calming effect, or even just intimidating everyone, enough for that one heartbeat where reality snaps back in place, a number of spears were hurled in her direction. Samantha felt like smacking herself upside the head, hard. She had forgotten that where super powered people are concerned reality often was flex muscles first ask rational questions… Never!
Ignoring the spears, and the Amazonians—from what Samantha could tell they were simply women armed with medieval weapons—and focused her attention on Nate. In her opinion, he was by far the greater threat. Once he was neutralized she was positive safe passage off the island for everyone would be a snap.
Powerful muscles bunched, like coiled springs, and released. Samantha launched herself into the air. A pair of spears jutted into the white sands where she had stood.
Matt pushed Cordelia out of the way and then snatched the spear out of the air. His senses were beginning to level off. Nothing was screaming at him anyway. His radar was coming back into focus, enough that he felt he could rely on it.
Nate Grey struck again. "You think your physical power impresses me…" His telekinetic power battered Samantha, ramming her back to the beach below. "…when I've fought the Hulk to a standstill?" His boast was plain even if most of the people below didn't understand its meaning.
The spear spun in a tight arc as Matt knocked two more of the weapons out of the air. Cordelia plucked one from the white sands and prepared for the charging warriors. She wasn't familiar with the spear, but hoped the little training Angel gave her would compensate. Against women trained from birth… She scoffed silently. …fat lot of luck there.
"Use it like a staff," Matt instructed before charging to meet them. He had the feeling her only real chance of getting out of this alive was if he could defeat an army of Amazon warriors.
The one person who truly understood Nate's declaration smiled up at him and said, "You fought Uncle Bruce—"
A few feet away a second, identical voice broke in, "To a standstill—"
A third, "All by—"
Another, "Yourself?"
Then a fifth. "That is impressive."
Nate looked down upon the five identical girls on the beach below. "What the?" He tried reading one of their minds, but there were five identical brainwaves and each one was thinking something different from the other. It was the strangest sensation he has ever encountered.
Samantha loved this aspect of her powers. It allowed her to experience so much, way more then the average thirteen year old. With only a handful of duplicates her days were full of new and exciting adventures. While she had perfect attendance in school she only ever went once a week, one day she would hangout with Uncle Bruce, one day she would go to work with her mom, another day it was the theater or the movies or to catch a concert, another day it was piano lessons, guitar, drum, another day it was training with various members of the Avengers or the Fantastic Four, The X-Men, or she would spend the day hanging out at home with her dad watching T.V. or playing cards or chess or reading a book or sleeping in.
At the end of the day her and her duplicates would merge back into one and share their knowledge and new found experiences. The only hard part was remembering who had done what the previous day. She got into more arguments with herself over that.
"It normally takes—" The third Samantha said. She was standing, looking up at him.
The fifth Samantha, this one had one knee planted in the sand, her fingers just grazing the fine grains, cut in adding, "Me, twelve to fifteen—"
"Dupes just to make—" Samantha number one said as she pushed herself out of the hole she was lying in.
"It—" The fifth Samantha chipped in.
The second Samantha glared at the fifth, her mouth open slightly as if she was about to say the same thing. Into the prolonged silence the fourth Samantha said, "Interesting."
Two dozen Amazon Warriors crested the small rise and stopped, slightly stunned at seeing five green skinned women where there had only been the one. Their hesitation last only a moment before long years of training took over. Half a score of arrows filled the air, a handful of spears joined them as the first wave of warriors charged down the slope.
"Right," the first Samantha said. A touch of annoyance lacing its way into her voice as she added, "Forget about them. All right this is what we're gonna—"
"How come you're always in charge?" The fourth Samantha asked.
"We don't have time for this right now," the third Samantha said.
"I think right now's the—"
"No! It's not," the second Samantha cut in sharply. "Big fight—"
"Lives at risk—" the third Samantha picked up as if she had been saying it all along.
"Including our own," the fifth Samantha put in helpfully.
"Definitely not the time," the third Samantha finished.
The fourth Samantha looked around at her four twins and said, "Fine, just gang up on me, why don't you?"
"Sam, Sam…" the first Samantha starts off pointing at her second and third duplicates, "…keep our host entertained. Try not to hurt them too much." She looks at her fifth duplicate. "Sam, give double D a hand."
"How come I've got to play nursemaid?"
"Sam, just do it," the first Samantha groaned. Now she was beginning to get an idea about what her mom must feel like dealing with her. Looking at her fourth duplicate and sighed tiredly at the exuberant smile shining back at her. "Sam, you're with me."
"Let's show leather boy being tagged teamed by twins isn't all the fun it's cracked up to be."
Samantha shook her head at the comment. Sometimes she wondered about her duplicates mental stability. In the next heartbeat, the pair launched themselves at Nate Gray.
Dawn screamed, a short yelp, at the guards' sudden appearance. Perhaps it was her sudden appearance considering her surroundings. The pristine, military austere corridor, the way it coalesced around her, that caused the sudden exclamation to leap from her throat.
The soldier seemed just as startled as she felt, but years of training had honed his reactions to razor sharpness. "Halt!" He ordered as he swung the cutting edge assault rifle up, bringing it to bear on her.
Without true thought Dawn allowed her instincts to take over; she rolled forward intending to come up inside his guard.
By the time she finished the move though, the hard face man was already on the floor. Standing above him was a young woman, maybe as old as Buffy? Maybe younger? It was hard for Dawn to tell. Her eyes turned Dawn's stomach. They were very pale, without a pupil and the blue of her iris's had bled together with the sclera. The two swirled, churned together slowly as Dawn looked. It was like watching somebody mix paint in ultra slow motion.
Dawn tore her gaze away and made a point of looking anywhere but her eyes. She was tall, taller then an average size man. Her body was tone, lithe, and supple. She held a tonfa in each hand with deadly intent. A violet, form-fitting bodysuit covered her incredible body, yet left her arms bare, except for a pair of scarlet armbands.
Her dark hair was woven into tight braids and flowed out from under a scarlet wrap that covered the top half of her head; nose, forehead, even her ears were concealed beneath the piece of cloth.
"Sucker weren't all that friendly." If boulders rumbling down a mountain were ever given a voice and had something to say, they would sound exactly like the voice that crashed down from far above her.
Dawn turned slowly at the rumble, her blue eyes even with the largest belt buckle she had ever seen. It was a stylized A, made of silver metal and polished so brightly that it almost blinded her. She looked up and up and up and up, until her neck almost unhinged. Her eyes traveled up what was the largest, most well defined and sculpted abdomen she had ever seen. She had seen six pack abs before, and she was pretty sure Spike had possessed a twelve pack even though she had never actually glimpsed it. This however had to be at least a case, a case and a half.
His muscles had muscles.
His head stopped a few feet short of the twelve-foot ceiling. His face was broad and square, very open, and mostly honest. He was easily the largest person Dawn had ever seen, with broad shoulders that seemed to fill the corridor. The clothes he wore were nondescript: white tank top, blue jeans, black racing gloves, and black dress boots.
Dawn emitted a little squeak as the mountain of a man in front of her said, "Pointing a gun at a girl like you."
"Yeah," Dawn agreed in a small voice. "Not friendly at all."
"Especially with me standing right behind you."
"We have to get out of here," Rina said as she strode up to them. "I'm Risk."
Zane's eyes traveled up and down her body. In a meaningful voice he said, "I'm sure you are."
Rina ignored the comment. She doubted very much if she could force him to retract it. "Someone's coming. A girl, small but fast, from behind you."
Dawn looked at Rina with questions filling her eyes. "How do you know that?"
Rina smiled, it was tinged with sadness. "An inheritance from my parents."
"Know what you mean," Zane mumbled. If an avalanche can be said to mumble. "Name's Zane, Zane Walters. Why don't you little ladies take a hike. I'll be sure to give whoever's coming a proper greeting."
Rina nodded and grabbed Dawn by the elbow. "Come on," she said and gave her a gentle tug to get her moving. She was willing to take Zane at his word.
"We're not just gonna leave him?" Dawn protested.
"I'm pretty sure he can take care of himself," Rina answered turning left and racing down the hall. Her long strides out distancing Dawn.
Dawn hesitated for a moment as she looked back at Zane. With a sigh she turned and raced after Rina.
Professor Ray Palmer yawned tiredly as he lounged back in his cheep, upholstered roll around chair. He figured the least the University could do would be provide him with a chair more befitting his position. He laced his fingers behind over his head, stretched his legs out, and tried to stifle yet another yawn. "God," he mumbled his partial yawn stretching the word out for several seconds. Fee's like I've been up for days. With slow laziness, his gaze settled on a round, black and white clock fastened over the door. He shivered seeing it was past midnight, or it could have been noon; without a window and an assistant that picked a heck of a weekend to come down with the flu, he had no idea what time it was. If it was noon, that meant he's been working for two hours or twenty-six.
"Time to go home Ray," he said forcing himself to a proper sitting position. He twirled in the chair, taking it for a quick spin before getting up and shoving it towards his workspace.
His eyes fell on the door to his office, and the couch that he would find within. He cringed slightly at the thought of spending another night on the unforgiving torture device that passed itself off as a sofa. Lumps, broken springs, and cushions hard as marble did little to deter him. Compared to the reality of having to drive home, the sofa was a little piece of heaven made just for him.
In the morning he would regret the decision. His back would bark at him all day and he would feel as if he hadn't slept for the better part of a week.
As he headed to his office, Ray felt a charge of static build in the center of the room. He glanced over his shoulder, and had to throw himself to the side as a lance of silver gray lightening streaked towards him.
A lamp shattered.
Ray hit the floor hard and rolled into a crouch.
A small dot a quarter the size off an orange hovered just under the ceiling fan as it rotated ever so slowly. Electric tendrils stretched out, cascading along the ceiling, circling, swishing back and forth like mad tentacles. It pulsed, expanded across the ceiling and expunged a large, Hispanic man.
The floor caved inward with the force of his impact. He crouched lightly, hardly disturbed by his arrival. "Influx of unstable quantum energy with a transient trans-phasic temporal signature, transcending multi spatial realities. Cannot avoid vortex. Insufficient data necessary to correlate effective stratagems."
Ray watched the man stand to his full height. It was comparable to Batman only broader through the shoulders. His clothing was consistent with that of a construction worker, but his tone, his speech patterns. They sent a chill trip hammering its way up his spine. He spoke in an emotionless monotone. It sounded dead. More like it had never been alive.
Its next words confirmed Ray's suspicions. "Unanticipated reality shift has caused this unit damage. It is cosmetic. Negligible to this units overall ability to function in its intended programming. Initiating scan, one anomalous life sign present. No match found in this unit's data banks. Scan indicates life form is base line human, male, approximately thirty-four years of age in excellent physical condition. Scan also detects an energy residue comparable with the Pym particle. Conclusion, unknown human possesses a technology similar to growth reduction."
"Oh—" Ray reached for his belt.
A pale red light flashed over Ray Palmer. "This unit has disabled all devices on your personage."
Ray still adjusted his buckle. He wasn't about to take the machine's word. Nothing happened.
"This unit has deactivated your communicator."
"Why?" Palmer demanded. If this machine man wanted him dead, Ray didn't think there was much he could do to stop him.
"This unit's original designation is Nimrod. Omega class Sentinel. Mutant Hunter/Killer series, My Prime directive—"
"Let me guess," Ray cut him off. He had a decent idea what its prime directive was. He'd never heard of a meta-human or mutate called a mutant before, but the terminology wasn't off by that much.
"—Was to terminate mutants along with advance and altered humans."
Ray paused, swallowed what he had been going to say, which was pretty much what Nimrod had just said. With the exception of the word was. "You altered your own programming?"
"I adapted my programming. The world in which I dwelt was not the same as the world I was created. My primary program is still inviolate, to safeguard and protect humanity. Mutantkind, as a whole, is not a threat to the security of humans."
Nimrod reminded Ray of Amazo. The golden android was a self aware, self-determining entity; Unlike Nimrod, Amazo's original programming was not one of wholesale slaughter. Still there was a card to play. "Sounds to me like you've undergone your own mutation."
"I would concur Dr. Palmer." Nimrod using his name startled Ray. For a brief flash he wondered if the machine was telepathic before it occurred to him that its sensory equipment may be comparable to the best available anywhere on the planet. "It is fortunate that my programming is adaptable."
Ray wasn't certain, but he thought Nimrod just made a passing attempt at humor. Its dry, humorless monotone had sounded alive as it mocked him having ferreted out his plan with a childlike ease. Or perhaps Nimrod, with its incredibly sophisticated computer intellect, anticipated the strategy, calculated the likelihood it would be used against him. Still, isn't that a sign of intelligence?
"This unit requires your assistance Dr. Palmer," Nimrod announced suddenly.
"If you think I'm going to—"
"This unit needs the use of your computer so that it can more efficiently access the internet and determine this world's disposition toward mutants and other beings possessed of super powers."
"Why don't you just ask me what this world's disposition is?"
"This unit has calculated there is a 98.725 percent chance that you would lie to this unit in a vain attempt to preserve lives. An admirable quality to possess, concern for others, but ultimately futile to attempt any sort of deception on this unit."
Grodd burst into the Society's vast ready room, intruder klaxons blared with a shrieking wail. Impact tremors rocked the base with ever-increasing regularity. He doubted that the League had found his liar, they had yet to realize his collective existed. He could have underestimated them, unlikely, but it was possible.
"What is—" The question died in his throat. For a moment his vast intellect was at a loss.
In the center of the room was a sight that took even his highly developed brain a second or two to catch up with. An emerald green giant, a truly hulking man monster at least seven and a half feet tall exchanged thunderous blows with two far more normal looking men.
Their style of dress though was more archaic. The taller of the two, nearly as large as the green behemoth, but still nearly a foot shorter, sported a full, neatly trimmed, dark reddish brown beard that match his thick head of curly hair. His dress was the style of the ancient Greeks, his boots were golden sandals constructed of interwoven straps that climbed his legs. A white toga covered his upper legs and was cinched tight around his waist.
The third man, shorter then his two companions, but was still taller then most large men. Gold locks, like strands of sunlight flowed out from under a winged helm; chest plate and grieves protected his chest and legs respectively. A red cape hung from his shoulders. In his right hand he wielded an ancient war hammer.
Lining one wall was an odd assortment villains he had brought together. Sixteen of the world's most ruthless killers: Giganta, Bizarro, Devil Ray, Metallo, Rampage, Volcana, Tela, Blockbuster, Cheetah, Blackmass, Atomic Skull, Copperhead, Heat Wave, Killer Frost, and Live Wire. It was only a fraction of the Society's numbers.
"Hulk smash puny humans!" The Hulk bellowed. His roar drowned out the klaxons. He slammed massive fist into the floor, cracking the hardened steel, causing those nearest to stumble back a step. Even those against the wall were rattled by the force of the blow.
Grodd maintained his balance with a natural aptitude; his eyes narrowed on the destruction of his base.
"Ha! 'Tis no mere mortal you jest with this day, friend Hulk but rather Thor and Hercules."
"Bah!" The Hulk's fist collided with the side of Hercules' head. The Olympian fell back a step. The shock wave buffeted the others, pressing all but a few against the wall. Even Grodd slid back a pace. "Puny human thinks he's strong as Hulk. Hulk strongest there is." He drove his other fist into Hercules' gut.
"Well struck," Hercules cheered as he struck back, driving the Hulk to one knee. "A blow worthy of the mightiest Olympian."
"Once, thou were a staunch ally. Wouldst be considered a great disservice to smite one I once called friend."
The Hulk lashed out, nothing more then a glancing blow, but enough to throw Thor off his stride. "Puny humans think Hulk stupid. First attack Hulk, then say Hulk's friend." Thor swung Mjolnir and was met by the Hulk's fist. Another shockwave reverberated throughout the chamber. Throughout the entire structure. The Hulk grabbed hold of Thor's wrist and hurled the Asgardian God into the Olympian. "Hulk no want friends like you."
"What are you humans doing," Grodd raged at his hirelings. "Standing there, gawking at them while they destroy our base. Get them! Destroy them!"
Almost in mass the villains surge forward.
A throat cleared noisily from against the wall. Almost in mass the villains stopped, a few striding forward a step or two. "Those…" An unfamiliar voice began.
They turn and gape at the stranger.
Devil Ray shrugged at Grodd's questioning look, "I thought he was a new recruit," he whispered. As far as he could tell, the man was insane. Worse he talked more then the Flash. Worse still, it was understandable. He was dressed in a form fitting blood red body suit, with dark blue patches around the eyes, at the shoulders, and running up his outer legs to under his arms. The hilt of a katana stood above each shoulder and numerous pouches lined his belt and bandoliers.
"… Fall squarely under the heading of…" He made little air quotes with his fingers, "…Famous Last Words. Personally, I'd just stand back in watch the spectacle. Never got to see one first hand, a tad before my time, but I've heard one god against the Hulk, that it was something special, a sight to see. The Hulk against two gods, I'd pay good, hard earned money to see that. Or, assassinate a president, maybe the Pope? Mother Theresa?"
"Already dead."
"Forgot about that… Thanks."
"No problem."
"Gandhi? Maria Shriver? Governor Terminator—"
"Who are you?" Grodd demanded.
Dead Pool smiled, though nobody could see it through his mask. A glint sparkled in his eyes. He cleared his throat, and in a too high, off key voice he sang, "Bitch," and then in a lower, still off key voice followed it up with, "ho."
Most winced at the shrill noise he made, a few stared at him, wondering what he was going to do next.
"Everywhere I go-oh. Everybody know-oh-s, who I-I am-am, but si-ince you do-on't, I guueess I'll tell you." A machine gun appeared in each hand. "I am Dead Pool, the deadly, deadly Dead Pool." Then he opened up with a burst from each machine gun as he sprayed the area in front of him.
Giddy with excitement, floating several inches off the floor and clapping his hands enthusiastically, Bizarro called out, "Don't do it again. Don't do it again, Bizarro hate. Bizarro hate." His claps created small shockwaves. The bullets not hit head on spun off in other directions.
Those not lucky enough to have Bizarro act as their unwitting benefactor and weren't invulnerable themselves, including Grodd, dived out of the way. Killer frost froze any bullet heading her way in midair, while Volcana and Heat Wave melted those that rushed toward them. There was no thought of providing any aid for their teammates.
"He's shooting at us," Cheetah shouted at Grodd, anybody that happened to be close to her. The only reason she had even joined was that Grodd promised her access to the equipment she would need to reverse the mutations her experiments caused. She wasn't a hardened criminal, and definitely not a cold blooded killer.
"Then kill him," Grodd ordered. "Kill them all. Bizarro, Hercules told me he liked you, that you were smarter and stronger then him."
"Bizarro go be friends with Hercules." He looked at the three men and stopped. He frowned, looked back at Grodd, and asked, "Which one Hercules?"
"The one without the beard," Grodd instructed. "Giganta, why don't you go introduce yourself to Thor." He doubted if either man was the God they claimed to be, more then likely they simply possessed delusions of grandeur. "Metallo, Rampage, Live Wire, Blockbuster, Blackmass, that green behemoth is your responsibility. Kill him, kill all of them. And somebody please kill that lunatic."
"Lunatic," Dead Pool blanched. "Lunatics don't plan. Lunatics don't strategize."
"And you do?" Devil Ray mocked.
"Sure," Dead Pool sent Devil Ray diving for what little cover was available. Two darts stuck into Dead Pool's thighs. He felt some kind of poison burn in his blood stream. He ignored the sensation, his healing factor was on par with the likes of Wolverine and Sabertooth. Whatever it was, might slow him down for a minute or two, but he was confident in his body's ability to shrug it off.
Tela used her magic, teleporting a number of bullets right behind Dead Pool. They hit but didn't penetrate his body suit. He rolled forward with the impact, the Uzis disappeared back into their specially designed holsters. Coming up he held a razor sharp katana in each hand.
"If I kill enough bad guys on this world then the good guys'll let me join their little club and I'll finally be able to garner that same sort of rabid fan base Wolverine has…" He vaulted through the double heat blast of Volcana and Heat Wave; forced them to follow his zigzagging pattern as he led them straight to Killer Frost. "… Make fifty cameo appearances in various comics every month, even though my being there has absolutely nothing to do with the plotline…" Killer Frost noticed him, raised her hands and prepared to freeze him when she spotted three oval shaped disc sliding across the floor toward her. "… Sprout some good, wholesome advice about morality…" They exploded a moment before she unleashed her freezing blast, filling the area around her with smoke. "…And having to keep fighting the good fight as I cut down a few bad guys, all on my way to the nearest bar." The smoke froze around her, incasing Killer Frost in her own icy prison. "Maybe get my own movie deal out of it, or better yet, host the Jerry Springer Show while Jerry's on vacation." It lasted only a second as Heat Wave and Volcana's attack collide with the block of ice. The block melts almost instantly under the intense heat, filling the cavernous room with a hazy layer of steam. For the moment Dead Pool had the advantage, it wouldn't last long though.
Bizarro slammed into Hercules, driving the Olympian back several paces, until the personification of strength exerted his will, dug in his heels, and stopped. "Bizarro like you." A right hook and left uppercut followed the declaration. Again, shock waves reverberated throughout the building.
Hercules felt his teeth rattle with the force of the blows and couldn't help but feel his spirits soar at the prospect of the upcoming fight. Hercules' heavy haymaker crashed into Bizarro's skull stopping him cold. "I accept your challenge."
A massive, emerald fist grabbed the tattered cape. "Hulk no need help from Puny Human to smash Puny Humans." He swung Bizarro around by his cape, slamming him into Thor. "Hulk strongest one there is!" Then he smashed Bizarro into Hercules, knocking god into the curved wall. "Hulk want to be left alone." Hulk let go of Bizarro, the momentum sent him sailing into the far wall. It caved inward, large fissures spider-webbed out from Bizarro's initial impact.
Hulk roared, a sound of pure rage, and slammed his fist into the floor. The tremors were easily twice as strong as the previous shock wave; the building shook and heaved, almost in response to the Hulk's uncontrollable rage. "Puny humans no leave Hulk alone. Hulk smash puny humans."
The five-man team paused for a fraction of a beat. All except Rampage, who continued her headlong charge.
Giganta's long strides quickly carried her to Thor as the Asgardian drew himself to one knee. She reached for him saying, "Don't struggle, and this'll be over quick. It'll be painless. I promise."
Thor snarled as he swung and Mjolnir struck true. He heard bones snap and she drew her hand back in pain. "Thine offer, whilst most charitable, is unwarranted. So long as blood flows in my veins, and life courses in my breast, I shall never give in! Never cry defeat!"
Giganta grew even bigger. "I'm gonna crush you like an ant."
"Grow as large as the mighty Frost Giants of Jotunheim, it shalt avail thy cause little. Even such foul beast as they fell with naught but a single blow from faithful Mjolnir. Doust thou truly believe thy 'tis truly a match for the might of Thor, Defender of Midguard?"
"I think you talk too much," Giganta shouted.
Thor hurled Mjolnir with all his might, then held on as Mjolnir carried him, with great speed towards his target. "Have at thee knave!"