"Remember, we have to keep quiet," Omen hissed, holding his body hunched and low, as if that could possibly hide a huge, snow-white pony in the middle of an empty hall. "Snippy and Crunch Berry will still be down here patrolling, and there are other guards too."
"Uh huh," Booster said, simultaneously looking around and discovering that whatever that white, sticky . . . stuff . . . was on the palm of his hand, it didn't want to scrape off on the stone. "Quiet. Right. So where do you think they put Beetle?"
"How should I know? I wasn't exactly invited to stroll through the halls and inspect the cells after they locked me up," Omen said irritably. "It was more like, 'Hey, here you go! Hope you rot here, you little--' . . . What are you doing?"
"Nothing. I was just, um, admiring your mane. Very nice. Mmm--silky!" Booster smiled brightly, patting Omen's broad white back to disguise the fact that he had, in fact, just been using the pony's purple tresses as an impromptu towel for his gunky hand. Omen gave him a funny look and sidled away a bit.
"Anyway . . . like I was saying, he could be anywhere," the Clydesdale said. "Frankly, I think we, or at least I, should just get out of here. The chances of finding him in here are astronomical--"
"Omen, Omen, Omen . . ." Booster shook his head with a sad smile on his face. "What are the odds of Beetle and I getting tossed into a land full of pastel, talking ponies? What are the odds that we'd burn down the library?" ("I'm beginning to think they might be pretty good," Omen muttered under his breath.) "What are the odds that I'd get thrown into the one cell that has a magic door-opening-charm-thingy? Don't you get it? The less likely things are, the more inevitable they become!"
Before Omen could do more than boggle at Booster's logic, the blond superhero suddenly perked up, cocking his head to one side as he heard a faint, familiar voice echoing along the stretching hallway to his left.
" . . . talk about this . . . calm down . . . can't we all just get along?"
"Ted!" Booster immediately swiveled and began trotting down the hall.
"What in all the names of the Rainbow is a ted? Hey, slow down, he could be talking to the guards or--Booster, wait up!" Omen followed, twisting his head this way and that, scanning for trouble.
Booster ignored him, feeling both relieved and triumphant. Definitely Beetle's voice, and it was coming from . . .
He rounded the corner at the end of the hall and nearly ran smack into a barred door closing off a fairly large cell with at least nine feet of extra headroom. As Omen had predicted, there was a brick ledge built into the cell, about eight feet off the ground, and on that ledge was perched none other than Blue Beetle.
He had been simultaneously rubbing the back of his head and staring anxiously down at his cellmate, a light yellow pony with coral hair, but upon seeing the 25th century superhero's abrupt entrance, he turned with an expression of amazement. "Booster!" he exclaimed. "How the heck did you--??"
"Sorry, my amazing escape techniques are super-secret--and patent pending," Booster grinned, wrapping a hand around the bars. "But if you promise to close your eyes, my assistant and I will have you out of there faster than the Fla--"
"Look out!" Blue Beetle interrupted, frantically throwing himself off the ledge just in time to tackle a blur of yellow and coral making an uncontrolled leap towards Booster. Booster instinctively backed away, eyes widening as several hundred pounds of pony crashed against the bars on which he had just been leaning. There was a flurry of kicking hooves and gnashing teeth and the next moment Blue Beetle was making a hasty, vaulted retreat back to the ledge as the pale yellow pony paced beneath him, baring her jagged, uneven teeth and growling.
"What . . . what the . . . ?" Booster stared at the pony in disbelief. Just then Omen finally rounded the corner, having caught up.
"Oh, there you are," he grumbled. "Okay, let's get your friend and get going before GREAT RAINBOW OF LIGHT!!!" he finished dramatically, violet eyes bulging as the lean, coral-maned pony turned to regard him with a hungry glint.
"What?" Booster asked, annoyed. "It's just a pony . . . Kind of moth-eaten, maybe, but--"
"That's Munchy," Omen said in a soft, awed voice, unable to tear his eyes from the creature slavering away in the cell. (She had turned her attentions back to Blue Beetle, standing on her hind legs, leaning against the wall with her front ones as she stared up at the Azure Avenger.) "She's . . . she's insane. Not Skydancer-joking-around insane or Parasol-kicking-people insane . . . Really, truly insane! They say she's carnivorous, a cannibal, and . . . and . . . well, LOOK at her! Look at her symbols!"
Booster took a closer look at the pony. While Omen had comets on his flanks, the yellow mare's shoulders and back were covered with images of french fries, pickles, and . . . hamburgers and hot dogs?
"I don't know about the cannibal part, but I can vouch for 'carnivorous' as an appropriate adjective; she nearly tore a chunk out of me when they tossed me in here," Beetle said, sitting cross-legged and leaning his head into his hand. "Thank God I wasn't still out cold. I was pretty groggy, though . . . Barely made it up here. Snippy was laughing," he added in irritation.
"Snippy has issues," Omen said absently, his attention still entirely focused on Munchy.
"You don't say," Beetle said drily.
"Well . . . ah . . . Snippy's personality disorder aside . . . Hand me that charm-thing, will you, Omen?"
"Excuse me? What?"
"The charm." Booster pointed to the stone hanging around Omen's neck. (Booster had yanked out a few of Omen's purple tail hairs and threaded them through the hole in the center, at the pony's request.)
"Riiiiight . . . Booster, can I talk to you for a minute? Over here?"
"Uh . . . I guess. This shouldn't take long," he said to Beetle, apologetic.
"Hey, it's not like I'm going anywhere," the blue-themed superhero shrugged philosophically as Booster followed Omen down the hall a bit.
"Well? What gives?" Booster asked a touch impatiently.
"What gives," Omen smiled, "is that your friend is in a cell with a psychotic, flesh-eating, possibly rabid pony. Now, tell me . . . do you really think that opening the cell door, the one thing keeping Munchy from chewing off our faces, is a good idea?"
"Well, how else are we supposed to get Beetle out?" Booster said with a pragmatic shrug.
"He seems to be doing pretty well on that ledge, doesn't he? I'm sure he'll be just fine."
"You think we should just leave him?" Booster straightened, casting a disgusted and disbelieving look at the Clydesdale.
"Yeah, that was the general idea."
"No." Booster said flatly.
"I don't think you're thinking this through, Booster," Omen said, and although his voice was patient, there was a glint in his eye. "I'm not making a suggestion. I'm informing you, as a courtesy, that this is not going to happen."
"Really."
"Yes, really."
Booster crossed his arms. "I think you'll find it most definitely is going to happen."
"Really."
"Yes, really."
"Considering I have the runestone and outweigh you several times over, I'm feeling rather skeptical about that." With a swish of his royal purple tail, Omen turned to leave.
"If you take one more step," Booster said calmly, "I am going to let out an ear-splitting shriek like you've never heard in your life. And I'm going to keep screaming and shrieking and generally raising a ruckus until the guards show up."
Omen froze in mid-step, then slowly turned around. "Really."
"Yes," Booster said serenely. "Really."
"They'd catch you too."
"Yep."
"And you could hardly help your friend when you're in jail."
"Nope."
"So it really wouldn't accomplish anything except landing me back in a cell again."
"That's true," Booster said, then added thoughtfully, "I'm kind of petty that way."
"Really."
Booster nodded contentedly. "Really."
Omen scowled as he tossed his head, flipping the talisman off with a jerk. Booster caught it neatly.
"Why, thank you, Omen! How very kind of you!"
"Hardy-har-har. Have fun dealing with your friend's psycho little cellmate," Omen said, turning once more.
"You're leaving?" Booster raised an eyebrow.
"I've got to get . . . some stuff . . . before I leave. I'll be back to get the stone . . . off your mangled corpse," he added in an undertone as he stalked away.
"Pessimist," Booster said, only to himself since Omen was already out of earshot. But as he retraced his steps back to the cell, he did indeed feel a wash of dread and doubt as Munchy turned to inspect him with gleaming, predatory eyes.
"What's that?" Beetle asked with interest, looking at the runestone dangling from the strands of purple hair twisted around Booster's fingers. He began absent-mindedly drumming one heel against the brick-laid wall of the ledge, but quickly drew his foot back when Munchy swiveled to look up at him and lick her lips. "And, man, what happened to your arm? Did you start rooting through dumpsters or something?"
"I was just--I'll tell you once we're out of here, okay? Which shouldn't be long now." The Corporate Crusader edged slowly towards the iron door as Munchy followed every sidled step.
As Booster's small, careful steps finally drew him even with the door, the pale yellow pony raised her head and sniffed the air. "Meeeeat," she hissed in satisfaction.
Booster's stomach flip-flopped, but he had to get Beetle out of here, so he raised the magical stone--
"What's that?" Blue Beetle repeated. "And where's that big white pony?"
"Omen's getting some stuff and this is--well, just be ready eave-lay ick-quay." Justice Leaguers reduced to pig-latin . . . but if Munchy could talk, even a little, she could probably understand them too.
"Wait, you mean you can open the--Booster, hey, wait, let's think this through. You're gonna get yourself killed!" Beetle anxiously looked from Booster to Munchy.
"Killed," Munchy repeated in a barely audible undertone, and she smacked her lips in a particularly disturbing way.
"Oh, don't you start," Booster said, doing his best to ignore Munchy. "I just went through a lot of work to get this bauble for your behalf, I'll have you know!"
"Well, okay, that's great and all, but you can't just pop the door when there's a slavering cannibal on the other side of it, y'know?"
"So if she's a cannibal I should be fine. She'd have to eat other ponies to be a cannibal--"
"Booster, I don't think she makes much of a distinction between species! Everyone's a walking buffet to her!"
"You know," Booster huffed, "you're making yourself awfully difficult to rescue."
"I just don't want you to have to change your name to Captain Dead!"
"'Captain Dead'?"
"Deadman is already taken; you don't want to get sued for copyright infringement. Now just let me think of a plan--"
"So YOU get to think of the plan? AGAIN? I came all this way to rescue you--"
"You said I was the details guy! I'm working on the details!"
"What details are there to work on?? I open the door, you come out the door!"
"And the bloodthirsty, carnivorous pony comes out the door and eats you, Mr. No-Functioning-Tech! That's the snag I'm trying to--"
"Oh, I get eaten, huh? Why don't YOU get eaten?"
"Because I'm up here and you're down there, dummy."
"You think just because my suit's out of order I can't handle one measly pony?"
"When the pony in question weighs more than both of us combined, has sharp, jaggety teeth, and tried to gnaw my arm off? Yeah, I think that's a pretty good bet."
"Well, let's just find out, shall we?" Booster hefted the magical stone.
"Booster, wait! You need a plan--"
"Screw the plan, Ted." The futuristic superhero said cooly as he rested the runestone against the lock. "I don't need a plan. I'm Booster Gold."
Click click. The door quietly slid open.
Munchy merely stood in the middle of the cell, looking Booster up and down as though all her dreams had come true. She approached with slow, savoring steps, sniffing the air with delicately formed nostrils. As a thin strand of drool seeped from her mouth, Booster found himself wondering if a plan wouldn't have been a good idea after all.
But she was just a pony, he quickly reminded himself, and he was Booster Gold. If he was more than a suit and a flight ring, this was the time to prove it.
"Hello there . . . Munchy, right?" Booster kept his voice casual and relaxed. "Hello, Munchy."
Munchy cocked her head, looking at him.
"We haven't really been introduced yet, have we? My name's Booster. Booster Gold."
"G . . . old?"
"That's right."
"C . . . old?"
"Ah, not quite--"
"C . . . old cuts?" Munchy leaned forward with some eagerness.
"No." Booster's voice was firm. "Definitely not."
Unconvinced, Munchy slowly stepped closer. Booster caught a flash of sharp-edged, broken teeth as she opened her mouth to lick away a string of drool.
Booster did his best to ignore it as he smiled. "I'll bet you've been in there a long time, huh? Bet you can't wait to get out of this place."
"After . . . supper . . ."
"Ah. Supper. Yes. You know, Munchy, I'm sure that as soon as Omen gets back, he can find you, um, lunch meat or chicken or whatever you want--"
"Want you."
"Boy, do I hear that a lot--although not usually in this context . . . Hey, calm down now!" He dodged as Munchy aimed a tentative nip at his arm. "You don't want to eat me."
Munchy considered. "Do too."
"No. No, you really don't." Booster put on his most sincere smile, the one that had landed him the Nike commercials. "Munchy, listen--most ponies don't eat meat, right? I mean, you're kind of unique that way, am I correct?"
The yellow pony blinked. "Y . . . es."
"So it's probably pretty hard for you to find stuff to eat, right? And you always have to gulp it down really fast so no one catches you, right?"
"Yes . . ."
"Well, get this: humans eat meat all the time! We can waltz into any old store and buy a leg of this or a loin of that. And we've got tons of different ways to prepare it!"
Munchy's ears perked up. "Oh?"
"Right. So if we can just get out of here, we can show you all kinds of great con carne dishes!" Actually, boiling an egg was about the extent of Booster's culinary talent, but this was no time to be truthful. "So why don't you just let me and Blue Beetle get out of here--"
"But . . ." Munchy frowned. "Hungry NOW. And you're . . . meat."
"Well, sure, but what happens if you eat us?" ("Us??" Blue Beetle protested from his perch.) "You'll just be hungry again in a few hours. Whereas we might be able to set you up with a permanent food source if we're, y'know, alive."
"Well . . ." Munchy thought about it. "'Kay."
"That's a good cannibalistic pony!" Booster patted her on the back, gingerly because she smelled vaguely of rotten meat. He couldn't resist looking over his shoulder and mouthing, "I am the champion!", to which Blue Beetle responded with noiseless, exagerrated lip-syncing, "You're INSANE!"
"C'mon down, Ted," Booster said cheerfully, ignoring his friend's assessment of his mental health.
Beetle cast a suspicious look at Munchy through his goggles, but nevertheless leapt down, landing gracefully on his feet.
"Well . . . what now?" Blue Beetle wanted to know, still eyeing the yellow pony. Munchy was drooling a little, but in a passive, absent-minded way.
"We should get out of here, I guess," Booster shrugged. "Hey, Omen never came back! I hope he didn't get caught . . ."
"He was that big white pony, right? Where'd he run off to?"
"I dunno. He said he was going to grab some of his stuff."
"Well, that's specific. What kind of stuff? And where?"
"Beats me. Maybe they have an evidence vault or something around here someplace."
"Well, I'd rather not sit around here waiting for him."
"Yeah, but I don't know where he went exactly--"
Munchy looked from one superhero to the other. "I know."
They both turned towards her.
"What do you know?" Booster asked.
"Where he went."
"You do?"
"Can smell him." She inhaled deeply, letting her breath out with a contented sigh. "He went . . . that way."
"Oh . . ." Booster and Beetle exchanged glances.
"Well, why not?" Beetle shrugged. "I mean, he did help you escape, right?"
"Yeah, more or less." Booster looked at the meat-covered pony. "Lead the way, Munchy."
"Mmm." Munchy nodded and put her nose to the floor, snuffling as she stalked down down the stone hallway.
"Speaking of escapes," Beetle said after a minute, "thanks for the save, bud."
Booster grinned. "Hey, what are friends for if not to stave off half-crazed, carnivorous ponies covered with pictures of hot dogs and hamburgers?"
"You know, when you put it like that . . ."
"Yeah?"
"It sounds kind of stupid."
Booster Gold tilted his head. "Yeah, it does, doesn't it? But hey, is it really any worse than the Flash fighting a guy in a blue and white snowsuit?"
"Captain Cold?"
"Yeah. And Captain Boomerang. Man, where do you think he found a boomerang print for his tunic?"
"This is kind of an urban legend, but . . . have you heard of the Tailor?"
"The Tailor? No . . ."
"He's supposedly this guy who all the supervillains go to for their costumes."
"You're kidding. Are you kidding?"
"No, I swear I'm not! Whenever their costumes get shredded or torn up or they want a new outfit, they go to the Tailor!"
"Huh." Booster considered. "Why do they wear costumes at all?"
"Well, they probably don't want to get arrested for indecent exposure on top of everything else . . ."
"No, no!" Booster waved away Beetle's comment. "I meant . . . why don't they wear normal clothes? Wouldn't it be easier to take over the world or whatever if people didn't instantly point at you and say, 'Hey, that guy in the big purple cape and the moose-horned mask is Dr. Polaris!' the minute you showed up?"
"Moose-horned?"
"Well, it reminds me of moose horns. Anyway, the point stands. Why wear a costume and draw attention to yourself?"
"But we wear costumes and draw attention to ourselves."
"Ah, but we're heroes, Beetle. We have the adulation of the adoring masses. If we were villains, people would probably just . . . spit at us or something."
"That doesn't sound very sanitary."
"Like this place."
They silently glanced around the narrow corridor as they listened to Munchy's hoofsteps echoing.
"It's not so bad. For a dungeon, I mean," Blue Beetle said at last.
"There are rats down here," Booster said darkly.
("Rats," Munchy agreed in a contented undertone, licking her lips.)
"Wharf rats?" Beetle asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Shut up, Ted."
"Hey, just checking!"
Booster opened his mouth to reply, then closed his jaw with a click as he and Beetle stared at each other in dismay. Ahead of them the corridor broke into a T-junction, and from that direction came the unmistakable clatter of hooves . . .