PhineasFlash25's
THE DARK KNIGHT
STRIKES AGAIN!
A Fanfiction by PhineasFlash25
Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight Strikes Again, The Dark Knight Returns, or the DC Universe. This is a fanfiction so PLEASE DON'T SUE ME.
After reading the actual sequel to Frank Miller's more acclaimed The Dark Knight Returns, I concluded that The Dark Knight Strikes Again had a lot of potential, and some genuinely cool ideas going for it. The basic premise of the novel (Lex Luthor having taken over the world, and DKR Batman must reunite his old superhero allies to stage a revolution) is a very cool premise. It's the EXECUTION of the premise, and all these little choices Frank Miller made throughout (plus the crazy art) that threw me and a whole bunch of other people off.
So, I've decided to write my own fanfic version of The Dark Knight Strikes Again. I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter 4:
"My name's Carrie Kelly, and if you want payback for the guys who put you here, you'll follow me."
None of the prisoners could say no to that offer. They had all rotted away for years in each of their excruciating cells. They had all prayed for liberation, and now here it was, in all its majesty. Sweet, sweet freedom, ripe for the picking.
Ray Palmer looked up in awe and gratitude. One of the Bat soldiers blasted open the door to his cell. Light burst through as if the gates of Heaven were opening before him.
The soldier crouched down and reached out to grab the jar Ray was still trapped inside. "Hold on tight, Dr. Palmer! We'll resize you when we're back at HQ." Ray did as he was instructed. He bent his knees and stretched out his arms to maintain balance as his glass vessel was lifted off the ground, and carefully stuffed into the soldier's backpack. Ray wished he could be of more assistance, but for now all he could do was go along with whatever his rescuers had planned.
Other captives were being released throughout the facility. A team of troops armed with crowbars, wrenches, and dynamite were hard at work opening another nearby cell and disabling the apparatus that restrained Plastic-Man. It was a small steel cube, just big enough to contain a severed human head, smashed in place by massive hydraulic presses coming out from the walls, floor, and ceiling of the cell. Powerful electric currents surged through the machinery, and loud buzzing noises were made by neural dampeners lining the innards of the box, taming the creature inside.
A few well-placed mines on the cube, and one the soldiers tapped a button on his gauntlet. Suddenly, the buzzing stopped. Then an explosion of red-and-white spandex propelled them back. They fell into the chasm they made to enter the asylum and landed hard on their rears. Meanwhile, a massive blob of rubbery flesh swirled around, and reconstituted itself into a man. he was wearing a scarlet leotard with white boots, gloves, and belt. He had a lean build, swirly black hair, matching white goggles with bug-eyed black lenses, and a dopey grin to complete his comical appearance. Plastic-Man stretched out his arms to superhuman lengths, bent back, and warped his mouth into a big wide circular hole, letting out a massive yawn.
"BOY, IS IT GOOD THE BE OUTTA THERE!"
Carrie Kelly overlooked the release of each prisoner. They freed Starfire, who looked withered and pale, in desperate need of food and sunlight. Cyborg was carried out of his cell by two soldiers, who bickered with each other about who would have to lug him all the way back to the cave. Things were moving along nicely, but in any minute the authorities will be knocking on the asylum doors. They had to be quick.
Finally, Beast-Boy erupted from his cage, mania rushing out in furious barks and howls. He looked nothing like the photograph in his dossier. In fact, he didn't look like any one thing. He was a swirling green amalgamation of all kinds of animals, his form constantly shifting. As the creature calmed down, his perpetual transformations slowed to a crawl. He had green fur, massive arms and hands of a gorilla, a long prehensile tail, legs with hooves and horns resembling a mythical faun, pointy elven ears, and sharp canine teeth. He flashed an eager smile.
"Garfield Logan? Beast-Boy? My name's Carrie Kelly. Batman sent us to free you all."
"I figured. But don't call me Beast-Boy. I think I've outgrown that name."
"Okay, how about… Menagerie-Man?"
The young man stroked his chin, playing with his green goatee. "Hmmm, I like it! Menagerie-Man! Has that whole 'superhero' ring to it!"
But Cyborg wasn't so happy, "Yeah, I hate to interrupt your brainstorming of marketable names and slogans, but can we get the hell outta here before the cops show up?"
"We got it covered," said Carrie. "We have this whole place barricaded. As soon as the rest of the prisoners are freed, and our tracks covered, we'll head back to the cave through the catacombs."
As the insurgents plotted their getaway, a mysterious figure slipped through the gaps of the fence and into Arkham Asylum. Like a rat he navigated the ventilation system, keeping out of their line of sight. He was a silent, sinister huntsman, and his prey awaited below.
"damn, what'd they DO to you, Cy?" asked Menagerie-Man.
"What'd they do to ME?" asked Cyborg, "What did they do to YOU?!"
"Where'd your arms and legs go? And most of yer' armor's scrapped!"
"Stop!" Carrie yelled. "Do you guys hear that?"
Carrie gazed up, and as they all listened, they heard a bone-chilling noise…
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha…"
Slowly, Carrie reached for the sticky-bombs in her utility belt and was about to throw them onto the ceiling. But it was too little, too late. The ceiling burst open, and a horrible creature dropped in. He was a lean figure in a black suit, red cape boots and gloves, chalk-white face, wild red hair and a nightmarish grin. His bloodshot eyes stared directly at Carrie and conveyed a sinister thirst for carnage.
"RUN!" Carrie screamed.
The Bat-troopers and freed prisoners all bailed for the gorge in the hallway floor. They raced into the catacombs below, and the mysterious predator followed close behind.
"Hahahahaha! I'm gonna getcha! I'm GONNA GETCHA!"
Carrie dared to look back at him. He was a lunatic, the kind of person Arkham used to hold. People like…
No! It can't be! She thought. This wasn't the Joker. The Joker died over ten years ago. His body was burned! This had to be someone else. Someone new.
The new Joker was gaining speed, and his cackling grew as he got closer and closer to his prey. Like a lone wolf hunting a herd of panicking buffalo, he lunged with his arms out, and grabbed the person at the tail of the crowd… Starfire.
"KORY!" wailed Cyborg, watching the whole thing unfold as a soldier carried him on his back.
Starfire fell over, and the Joker sank his vampiric teeth into her weakened flesh. Starfire cried out in pain, tears running down her cheeks. "Run!" she pleaded "Save yourselves!"
They ran, and her pleas were overpowered by the sounds of tearing flesh, crunching bones, and maniacal laughter.
The troops and rescued superheroes navigated the catacombs, wandered through the sewer tunnels, down into the deepest, darkest caverns, until they made it back to the Central Batcave. Their mission was, for the most part, a success. They had rescued several metahumans and political prisoners. Arkham Asylum was compromised, it's premises searched for anything of strategic value. They left behind no physical evidence of their existence, much less to their connection to the Dark Knight. But they lost Starfire. To the Joker.
Who WAS that guy? Carrie kept asking herself, as she paced back and forth in the war room. Whoever he was, he was extremely dangerous, and nearly cost them the entire mission.
Now Carrie stood at the head of the war room's table, discussing the plan for their next field op. Cyborg and Menagerie-Man were busy planning Starfire's memorial service. There was no body for them to lay to rest, but that was more reason to give her one. Ray Palmer was writing down a list of materials and equipment needed to make a new Atom suit. And Plastic-Man was trying not to show how traumatized he really was by his whole experience at the asylum.
"Alright, listen up!"
The lieutenants all took their seats at the table, and Carrie directed their attention to the screen behind her. "Tomorrow night, Beta Squad will go down to Texas and attack this government facility," She pointed at the GPS map on display with her baton. "Security is even tighter here than it was in Arkham, so we're lucky to now have Plastic-Man join our ranks."
Plastic-Man stood in the corner, raised his hand shyly, and waved at the lieutenants with a little smile. One of the most powerful and versatile metahumans on Earth, he could transform into countless different things, and has infiltrated some of the most impenetrable strongholds in existence. Batman once stated that even HE would have a hard time coming up with a combat strategy to defeat this man. The Pliable Prankster was many things; powerless was not one of them.
Carrie resumed her briefing "We move in, secure the Asset, and we get the hell out in a…"
Just as Carrie was finishing up, the war room doors swung open, and a woman rushed in with sorrowful passion. She was half-Asian with dazzling green eyes and wore a matching green coat. Carrie could tell that she'd been crying, and that she wouldn't let them remove her until she had her say.
Carrie then recognized her from the team of reporters they had formed an alliance with. Her name was Linda.
"What is it?" Carrie asked.
Linda looked down, and gently removed a ring from her hand, and gave it to Carrie.
"When you find my husband, tell him I miss him. And give this to him. He'll know what to do."
Meanwhile, far, far north, a lonely old man grumbled and growled as he hiked across the arctic, trudging step by step towards his destination. He wore an all-black parka, which contrasted with the pure white setting around him. His face was entirely covered by a hood, scarf, and snow-goggles. He carried a massive backpack containing all the equipment needed for his voyage. After a long and unforgiving pilgrimage, the Fortress was in sight.
Along the way, Bruce had stopped by Ted Kord's auto-repair shop, hoping to sign him up for the cause. But he was too late. The Blue-Beetle was murdered, and the police had already cleaned up the mess.
So few of us left, Bruce contemplated. Heroes. Super or otherwise. Those who remain are dropping like flies. And they were rarely natural deaths. Jefferson Pierce was found with his heart ripped out, his family shredded into bite-sized pieces around him. Elongated-Man was blown up with his apartment, and half of the city block. Oliver went looking for Roy, but when he failed, returned to his safehouse and literally found a skeleton in his closet. The Question was riddled with bullets and left hanging from a streetlight. And now Ted. And Selina…
Bruce's thoughts were interrupted when he finally reached to front door to the Fortress of Solitude. It was a massive golden slate, lodged into the base of the icy mountain, with Clark's insignia carved into it. Virtually indestructible, and so heavy that only Clark was strong enough to open it.
Good thing he knew about the back door.
Bruce took another fifteen minutes hiking around to the rear of the mountain. A circular hole was cut into the icy ground, exposing the arctic sea below. The intrepid Dark Knight removed his backpack, and dived into the hole, swimming down into freezing waters to access the Fortress. He had come this far, and was not going to return to the Cave empty-handed.
Bruce swam, deeper and farther into the cold, dark grotto. His lungs were collapsing. He finally surfaced, gasping for precious air. Then he looked around. He made it.
The Fortress of Solitude was a mighty castle built into the hollow mountain. The interior was a honeycomb of Kryptonian architecture, with four crystalline pillars serving as cornerstones, holding the magnificent structure together. Various chambers were connected by bridges, stairways, and levitating platforms. Bruce climbed a ladder out of the frigid pool and began exploring the Fortress.
He passed through the armory, the celestial zoo, and master bedroom, and went straight to the central computer. Even his best Batcomputer couldn't match this technological wonder. Constructed from the same Kryptonian Sunstone as the entire Fortress, it contained millions of intricate files recounting the history, culture, science, and people of Krypton. It also had Clark's private log, where he recorded all his adventures and day-to-day life. Bruce prayed that there was a clue as to Clark's whereabouts.
Clark's last entry was over nine years ago, just shortly before the Regime had seized control over the United States. Much to Bruce's disappointment, it contained no hints or indications as to where he went. Come on, Clark. Give me something. Anything! The world needs you.
Superman was missing in action.
For years, Bruce held a grudge against Clark, believed he sold them out, gave in to the wishes of the people, no matter how wrong they were. He believed Clark had turned on his friends just to stay on the side of the law. Looking back now, Bruce realized it was wrong of him to judge his friend so harshly. Clark was a good man, just trying to do what was best for everyone.
I know you meant well, Clark. I know you were just trying to help. To stop me from making more noise. From reminding people that giants walk the Earth. I'm sorry. Please, come back. I can't do this without you.
But as Bruce continued to read the last entry in Clark's private log, he discovered something else, something unexpected. It went:
Superman's Private Log, Entry #773
It's been another productive day for Superman. But there's so much happening, so much chaos and bedlam since the Soviets launched the Coldbringer missile, and my powers are still taking time to recharge. Electricity has been restored through most of the country, but riots continue to plague several major cities. The economy is in freefall, and each passing day, more attempts are made on the President's life. It's been weeks since I've last had a chance to visit the Fortress, or a chance to visit Diana and Lara. A chance to just relax.
Who's Lara?
Bruce scrolled back to previous entries, and what he found shocked him. He may not have found Superman, but he discovered the next best thing.