Disclaimer: I do not own the Legion or Terror Titans. My attempt at bitter irony.
Clock King: The mysterious leader of the Terror Titans, a team of teen legacy villains consisting of Dreadbolt, Disruptor, Persuader, and Copperhead. Currently runs the Dark Side Club and orchestrates fights between teen metahumans. A master manpulator with the ability to see 4.6692 seconds in the future, in a state of constant precognition.
Thunder: Cece Beck. The power of Shazam and the Marvel Family. From 6000 years in the future.
The gears click and wind. Time is standing still in this place. A giant clock. The home of a sociopath genius. The monitors, keeping track of the teen metahumans being brainwashed, his Titans training.
"You're late." He says. The Clock King.
"Welcome to my humble home." He begins walking throu-
"I would appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut while I'm narrating."
…
"Better. As you all know by now, I have been chosen as the next host in this pathetic parade of holiday joy. Which means I've been forced to take a break for my dealings with the Dark Side Club, but I've taken the steps to make sure my Terror Titans continue their work like good little helpers. My story is brief. My story isn't about joy or love, it's about making due with what you have, and why you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Sadly, Mick Yardreigh learns that the hard way from his dealings with the Fatal Five, so if he wants to look to the New Year, he'd best…"
09. Better Watch Out
"Good night, my little angel. See you in the morning."
"Night daddy."
"I love you."
"I love you too. Pleasant dreams."
He pressed his hand on the wall pad, and the lights went out as his little angel slept. Lewrence Enderson walked into the living room of his lavish penthouse apartment. He smiled at all the splendor, the expensive Christmas decorations crafted on far-off alien worlds, the twinkling lights molded from the finest crystal, and the dozens upon dozens of gifts that cluttered the bottom of his tree. All for his little girl. His Angel. Only seven years old, and those seven years were the brightest of his life. Never asking for anything but getting everything, never disobeying and never misbehaving. All of his love for his little girl. The love to make up for her whore of a mother, who ran off while she was still in the emergency room. He went into the closet in his bedroom, and pulled out some more gifts, hidden behind a big black box covered in dust, the box Angel was told never to look in, his one secret. A big secret. A very bad secret. And that secret came back to bite him in the ass the minute the phone rang.
RRRIIINGG!!
Lewrence was startled, he almost knocked over the tree as he was inspecting a gift in green wrapping paper. Who could be calling at this hour? He'd hoped it didn't wake up Angel. He picked up it up.
"Hello?"
"Mick? That you?" The voice on the other end asked.
"Wrong number pal."
"Oh I don't think so. Mick. Mick Yardreigh." The caller replied in a distorted voice. Lewrence silently gasped, his pulse increased and his eyes grew wide with fear.
"Black Mace."
Mick hung his head.
"Muscle for hire. Wanted for ten different murders. Worked for Leland McCauley, Dr. Lars Hascomb, and as a member of the Taurus Gang. Disappeared about seven years ago, along with his baby girl. This was some time after his wife ran off with another man and was never heard from again."
Mick slowly turned to the door to his daughter's room.
"You really should know better then to pose for a group picture in the front."
"What do you want?" Mick growled.
"Metropolis Harbor. Pier 51. Come alone."
CLICK.
Mick slammed the phone back on the receiver. He cursed to himself over and over again.
FLASHBACK
"This it?"
Mick was hunched over two black cases. His partner took off the black ski mask and breathed in relaxation. There was sweat on his brow.
"Yep. Everything Hascomb left over."
His partner unlocked the cases. Their latest caper. Lars Hascomb, their boss, Starfinger, dead and mutilated, made to look like the Legion of Super-Villains did it. And here was his money
"Peat, we have outdone ourselves." Mick laughed. The two best friends high-fived one another. They'd been in this game long enough to know that when you look out for one another, you get things done quicker
"Millions. Millions and millions." Peat smiled excitedly, "and that's just in this one case. And no one need ever know."
"You remember the deal?" Mick said.
"No prob. One for you and one for me." Peat explained. "That's what that bastard Hascomb gets for handing us over to the sprocking Sci-Pol."
"And after this we can both retire. You with your baby, and me with-"
WHACK!
"Sorry Peaty."
Peat slumped to the floor. Mick laughed as he ran his fingers through the bills, before locking the cases back up as sirens came in the distance.
"As much as this is, millions of dollars have a habit of getting spent quickly. I figure, I could use a little nest egg. Invest it, let it in increase over the years, so my little baby doesn't have to worry if anything happens."
He took the cases and hoped out the window as his partner lay unconscious.
"Merry Christmas, douche bag."
END FLASHBACK
Mick walked back into his bedroom, into the closet. Hands shaking, he slowly pulled out the dust-covered box, and unlocked it with the key he prayed he would never use again.
"Hey." He said. Inside was a large, black mace. He picked it up, and swung it in the air. Smirking to himself, he remembered how good it felt. But then he grimaced. Pulling on a long overcoat, he stepped into his daughter's room. She lay so still and perfect on the sheets. A sleeping beauty. Mick sighed, before he kissed her on the cheek and once again told her good night.
"Merry Christmas my little angel. I love you."
And the door hissed shut.
"Daddy?"
…
Cece Beck sighed out loud as she sipped a cup of cider. She leaned back in her chair and watched the monitors.
"So, this is what I'm doing for Christmas." She said to herself. Blessed with the powers of Captain Marvel and the wizard Shazam, a Legion member and a foster child from the far, far future. Farther then Kell. 6000 years farther. Truth be told, she didn't even know what Christmas was until last month, when Lightning Lad and Saturn Girl took the time to explain it to her. But she had no family to visit in this era, so without anything else, she got stuck with monitor duty along with Nemesis Kid. Why couldn't it have been Lightning Lad or Chameleon Boy? They were fun to be with. But Hart didn't show up. There is nothing worse then being alone on the holidays.
"If this is what it's like, I'm looking forward to Kwanzaa." She joked to herself.
An hour passed. Nothing. She finished her cider.
Another hour passed. Nothing still. She was playing with a lock of her blond hair.
One more hour passed. She fell asleep.
RRRRIIINGG!!
"I'm up! I'm up!" She fell out of her chair.
"Nice one, Cece. Hope no one saw that." She said to herself.
"Hello? This is Thunder. Yes, of the Legion. What? A bomb?!"
…
Mick pulled his coat closer. It was freezing down by the docks, which were closer to the apartment building than you would think. There, Dock 51. Old, abandoned, typical. The warehouse stood alone and dark. He cautiously stepped inside, his weapon hidden in his coat. There was only one light
"No. Not you guys." Mick gasped. The Fatal Five. Five of the deadliest, psychotic minds in the galaxy. Emerald Empress, Persuader, Mano, Tharok, and Validus. Criminals, murderers, sociopaths. Monsters.
"Wha, what do you want with me?" Mick tried to step back, but the Persuader was there behind him, his atomic axe glowing.
"Don't take this the wrong way Mick, honestly," the Empress said with faux sincerity as they ganged up on him, snickering. "But, we've been paid to take care of some of your unfinished business."
Mick breathed one word. "Peat."
"While we have nothing against you and your line of work, and we might not be getting paid enough…" the Empress started.
"We'd be fools to avoid this kind of fun." Tharok told him.
"Takron-Galtos can be pretty boring around the holidays." Mano explained.
"And the story around this, priceless!" The Empress laughed. "A man who sold out his best friend for no other reason other than he could."
"That's not true! I was thinking of my daughter!" Mick tried to explain. The Persuader knocked him to the ground.
"So that's why you stole more then you needed, even though you already had plenty to support her." Tharok asked.
"Tsk tsk, Micky." The Empress waved her finger. "You know what they say about cheaters."
"You should be more discriminate when it comes to screwing people over. It'll come back to bite you." Mano joked.
Mick couldn't take it. He took out his mace and swung it at them, until Validus simply swiped him aside and STEPPED on him. Mick coughed up blood.
"How's that for a sleigh ride?" Mano joked.
"This is all we get? How boring." The Empress moaned as she floated in the air. Validus held Mick by the arms. Mano slowly took his gloves, revealing the hands that burned with antimatter energy.
"Any last words?" Mano asked as he stepped closer.
"What've you been paid?" Mick asked.
"What do you care?" Tharok asked.
"I'll double it."
…
"There."
CLICK. It was done.
"Here's your blood money." Mick told them. It turns out years of investing really did pay off. By three years he'd earned double what he stole. This was chump change compared to what he had.
"My favorite kind." Mano said.
"Another 500 if you shut up now."
"Done." Mano clammed up.
"So, what's Peat been up to since he got busted?" Mick asked.
"Mick, Peat's been dead for two years." The Empress said.
"Huh?"
"Yeah, died in prison. We got hired by Peat's widow. In fact, she still lives in Metropolis." Tharok explained. Mick laughed.
"Well it sure sucks to be her right now when you guys tell her she wasted her money."
"Why? Wait, you think we were after you?" The Empress asked.
"But-"
He was cut off by their raucous laughter.
"I love it when they over assume." The Empress said as she wiped away a tear from her eyes.
"We wanted to give you a message from her. She says that maybe know you'll understand what it's like to lose someone." Tharok told him.
"What?" Mick blanked.
BOOM!
"And there she goes."
Mick sunk to his knees. He watched as the apartment, his home, had submerged in flames. Flames that started in the top. In the penthouse. In his daughter's bedroom.
"Merry Christmas, douche bag." They taunted. Before he could say anything, the five disappeared in emerald light. He didn't blink. He didn't cry. He didn't utter a sound. Until the breathing started. And the destruction followed.
…
She sunk into bed, a mug of tea on the nightstand next to her and a lit cigarette in an ashtray. Where were they? They should've called. She already gave them all the money she had saved, the money Peat told her about in prison, in that duffle bag buried in the lot. For emergencies. Money he got from selling off the stolen Spiffany Jewels. Then, the holo phone beeped. She answered.
"It's done." The Empress said on the screen.
"Thank you." She replied.
"Oh no thanks. It was our pleasure." The Empress said before signing off. She sighed. Revenge, and it felt so good. She held up her mug.
"Rest in peace, Peaty. Maybe this'll make up for the Christmas' we couldn't spend together-"
CRASH!
"What the-?!"
She looked over to the window in the living room. The wind howled and the snow flew in. He stood in the shadows by a pathetic Christmas tree. His eyes glowed with hatred. It's amazing how handy the yellow pages are.
"YOU!!" He screamed.
"Yes me, you son of a bitch!" She screamed at him. "You ruined my life when you sold out my husband." She told him. "He always talked about you, his best friend. Sometimes it felt like he shoulda married you instead, the way he talked. And you sold him out. You took away the one thing in my sick life that made me smile, SO I RETURNED THE FAVOR!"
She tossed her mug at him, at his bald head. He didn't flinch.
"How's it feel, huh?" Peat's widow asked, taking a puff of smoke from her cigarette.
Mick would not reply.
"I said how does it feel you piece of-?!"
WHACK!
The mace went right across her face. She sunk to her knees and grasped at her bleeding and shattered nose, breathing erratically as tears streamed down her face.
"Die!"
WHACK!
Another hit, sending her flying across the room. She tried to stand, but another blow prevented it. Again and again as blood, brains, and skull matted the floor and his mace. The blood across his face made him look like a wild animal. Because that was what he was. A wild animal.
"Die! Die! DIE!!!!" He screamed.
"DIE!!!!!!"
"Science Police! Freeze!"
It took thirty-four science policemen to bring him down. They got called in when someone saw a mysterious figure sneaking into Peat's Widow's yard. Then they had to call in more, and more, screaming all the way for everything to die. Drugged and strapped in a straightjacket, he silently rode down all the way to his cell in Metropolis S.P. Headquarters as the last bit of whatever soul he had slowly rotted away. At the ruins of the apartment building, the tenants huddled out in the snow as their home smoldered in ashes. Thunder succeeded in getting the people out in time, following a call about a Christmas gift disguised as a bomb, but was too late to stop the bombing, nor did she understand how to disarm a bomb. And she held in her arms a crying little girl who wanted her daddy.
And somewhere, five monsters were laughing and having the time of their life.
"Merry Christmas, boys!"
"MERRY CHRISTMAS!"
…
"So, you see what happens when you look a gift horse in the mouth? Little Angel gets to grow up without a father, and Mick gets to spend the rest of his life thinking his little girl died. Not like he could ever go back to her with what he did. So, maybe while you're unwrapping your gifts under the tree, you'll think twice about what you get. Happy Holidays."
Next Track:
10. Anno Domine
