Superman/Wonderwoman: It Could've Happened
Disclaimer: I do not own any DC related characters present in this fanfiction story.
Author's Note: I know, I've been sending you a lot of dialogue central chapters with very little action getting thrown. This is me trying to get the plot forward. I pre-warn you, this is another one of those chapters, but I promise you the action is coming up! Meanwhile, in this chapter, the DC cast of characters gets larger, with our super heroes still barely grasping the machinations at hand. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks to all the readers my story has received as well as reviewers. I much appreciate the time you all have put in to giving this story a chance! Hope you enjoy this latest chapter while I begin working on #6!!!
It happened again, the same way it did every night for the last week. Washington, DC, in front of the White House. It's a perfect day, where the sun could shine no brighter, the weather was at just the right temperature to be wearing an expensive suit, and the overall morale was at an all-time high. There are crowds, no, legions of people bunched up together all across paved or grassy ground. Cameras are flashing off like some new species of afternoon firefly. You can tell every single person there has attempted to look his or her absolute best for this day, this very special day. And then, as the ceremonies begin, he walks across the set-up stage. His head is held high with unlimited pride, his shoulders as sturdy as mountains, his smile catching the glare of the sun. The wind blows in such a way that the red cape draped over his shoulders flutters majestically behind him. Needless to say his appearance brings awe to the audience; his appearance always did that. Waiting for him a few feet ahead is the President himself, not even a single bodyguard around him. Why, who needs a bodyguard when Superman is there to save the day?
"This is the highest honour we can bestow upon anyone, Superman. And yet, I still feel as though you deserve much more." The President of the United States speaks to Superman as though he were a goddamn guardian angel, a savior from above. The alien is as modest as can be, rising up one hand and shaking his head assuredly.
"No honour is too small, especially from you Mr. President." The President smiles contently, showing the emphasized age lines running across his face. He holds out his hand to be shaken, signaling the final steps to granting this great honour upon his guest. Superman looks down at the President's hand for a moment, almost too long of a moment. He looks out to the crowd one more time, smiles respectfully and holds his own hand out. That's where the chaos begins. Superman granted the President one quick shake, before he tightened his grip, crushing the feeble human's hand in his own steel grip. The President is ready to cry out. Superman's eyes blaze with a crimson colour and he vaporizes the poor President before he has a chance to even scream. The audience erupts into shocked pandemonium as their screams ring out true. A number of secret-service looking kinds of men break through the crowds, powerful rifles held up at the President's assassin. Automatic, rapid-fire rounds bounce off his skin as he laughs maniacally at them. Repeating what he did with the President, he blasts them all with another powerful wave of his heat vision. The true motives of this change of character come to be revealed when he reaches a hand into his suit, pulling out what appears to be a miniature communication device. He shouts some strange alien language into it, and the sky turns black. How poetically coincidental that an eclipse would occur on this, the darkest of days? But no, it's not an eclipse. They are warships, flying machines of death and destruction under Superman's command. So many of them cover the sky that they blot out the very sun. The human race decides it needs more firepower, sending in a giant lumbering tank to take down the alien invader's leader. Superman grabs the tank by the large cannon mounted on it's top, and sends it sailing like a plastic toy. It crashes through the White House, collapsing an entire floor, signaling the beginning of war. In less than a day, the Earth has become a chaotic battlefield, and the aliens are winning. There is no more green covering the ground where the soldiers fight, it's all burnt away. The ground is cracked, burnt, destroyed, why it looks very much like a vision of Hell. The humans fight valiantly, but are no match for the advanced alien technology. Giant cruisers glass the Earth with their energy weapons, while large crystal-like mecha's crush all small life forms beneath their feet. Superman flies high above, leading his own legion of super-powered Kryptonians, as they tear the foundations of humanity apart. The "Last Son of Krypton" was all one big lie, the planet existed always; it was just very good at hiding itself. It had all been so cleverly planned out, Superman was sent to Earth as a spy. The Kryptonians, with their strategic patience watched as their soldier gained the trust and respect of every single human on Earth. It didn't matter if it took weeks, months, years, they could wait. And then, when that very same spy felt it right, when he had garnered enough trust, learned enough about them, and lowered the defenses just enough, he called them in for attack. Mankind didn't have a single chance of victory; the Kryptonians annihilated their resistance. One man remained on the battlefield, his own self-made machinations strewn about the war torn earth. Everything he worked so hard to build and achieve, it all lay in crumbles around him. When Superman began his conquest of Earth, they all turned to him, he who never believed the alien from the start; he who saw through all of the lies. They begged him for forgiveness, to let slide their ignorance and help them in this time of need. Though no one deserved it, he wasn't about to stand aside and let some alien race conquer his planet… but even he with his great genius and grand resources would eventually fall.
"Oh Lex, you must know that your failure was inevitable." The most sly and treacherous Kryptonian of them all had suddenly appeared behind him. He turned around to see the being that thought him self godly, floating just a few feet off the ground as if he were better than Lex.
"I always knew you would turn on us. The selfless savior for mankind? In the end you just turned out to be the double-crossing alien I pegged you for." Superman no longer sported the blue and red tights he wore when protecting the people. Now his outfit was a crude, black, totalitarian like armour that established his dominance over all other life forms. But what always remained the same was that giant pentagonal S he showed off on his chest. Now that symbol was everywhere, erected in the site where the White House used to be, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, the Pentagon, everything crumbled in their paths.
"And yet humanity wouldn't believe you in time. Yield to us, Lex Luthor, my greatest enemy. Bow down before me and I may be gracious enough to make you Head Servant to me." His smug grin invoked enough fire in Lex to inspire his next words.
"I'd rather die here, filthy alien scum." He finished by spitting on that S symbol that Superman was so proud of.
"So be it," The alien sighed, throwing his hand out faster than Lex could see and lifting him off the ground by his throat, "I think I'll put your head on a pike, and wave it around in battle to let the rest of your pitiful race know it is foolish to resist." And in that brief moment where Lex was lifted high into the air, he saw him, that third party neither human nor alien. He wore an expensive suit, arms crossed as he rested his back against a giant unearthed stone. His hair was blonde and slicked to the side perfectly, while he simply grinned and shook his head.
"Y-you? Who are y-?" A simple tightening of the fingers and Lex's neck snapped.
"GAH!" Lex's eyes fluttered open as he instinctively took in a huge gulp of air. He threw his entire upper body off of the bed, throwing the sheets off like they were holding him down tight. His skin was entirely drenched in a fine sweat, as he continuously took in deep breath after deep breath. His eyes were wide-awake now, his heart hammering in his chest, the dark atmosphere not mixing well with his paranoia. As was mentioned earlier, he had been having the dream for about a week now, and every night it was the exact same; Superman kills the President, the Kryptonians massacre the Earth, and Superman goes after Lex personally. And then, in Lex's last moments of living, he sees the man in the suit, that strange anomaly in human form.
BRIING! The high-pitched droning brought Lex to his full wakefulness. His heart skipped a beat and then returned to normal almost instantly. Peaking his head over the side of the bed, a tiny compartment shot open with a single, silver phone as its contents. Grumbling all the while he grabbed it and brought it up to his hear to cease the noise.
"This better be important, Mercy."
"Hello Lex." It was a male voice on the other line, sophisticated sounding, but dark as well.
"How did you get this number?" Lex got to his feet, alert as ever to this enigmatic voice on the other end of this emergency line.
"Why, your assistant gave it to me." This voice was so lax, un-intimidated, mocking of Lex.
"Mercy values her life, I doubt she just gave it to you."
"I'm very persuasive." He chuckled softly like it was some sick joke.
"Who am I speaking too, exactly?" Lex didn't make his anger known, that was a showing of weakness; he maintained composure like this mysterious man.
"A friend." How original, it seems like every shady man or anonymous tipster referred to them selves as "a friend".
"I don't make friends, I make business partners. Potential business partners usually have to offer a proposal before they can make it into my inner circle." Like instinct, Lex tried to turn the conversation around in his favour, see where this man was going, was he a potential benefactor?
"Not sleeping well, Lex? Realistic visions of foretold doom?"
"Who is this-?"
"This is the deal, what you can tell me about Superman, in exchange for his destruction." There was a long pause on Lex's end as he tapped away at the phone against his ear. This man was either very powerful, or just a crazed lunatic, but on this particular subject Lex Luthor was willing to take risks.
"What time shall I schedule a meeting?"
"I'll arrive when I please, that's all you need to know."
"Wait-." The receiver went dead and the mysterious voice had silenced. Lex still pressed the phone against the side of his head for a while, in such deep thought that his stature could not be broken.
"What you can tell me about Superman, in exchange for his destruction." It was the greatest trade one could offer.
Athens, Greece"Thanks a million for giving me this access Doctor Thorne, I thought it'd be near impossible to see him." Lois Lane walked alongside the white-coated Doctor down a long, empty hospital wing. Their footsteps reverberated off the walls with a loud sound that reflected upon how cut-off this part of the hospital was.
"Your gratitude is unnecessary Ms. Lane!" Doctor Thorne was Chief of Medicine at this Grecian Hospital, and was a very large, sturdy tree of a man. His head was shaven clean of any hair save for a neatly formed goti around his chin. Lois had been true to her word, catching the first flight to Greece on the Daily Planet's budget and well on her way to what she believed was a potentially very large story in the works. Once touching down and grabbing a hotel, it wasn't hard for the ace reporter to figure out where one of the terrorists was being kept. A number of squad cars still lay outside the hospital to where Superman and Wonder Woman had confined him. To Lois' coincidental luck, she happened to be very well acquainted with the head Doctor there.
"This hospital is still in your debt from that catastrophe seven months ago. Had it not been for your and Superman's timely intervention, Doctor Virus' foreign strain of bacteria could have killed hundreds of our patients." Lois waved the thanks off like it was an everyday gesture she didn't deserve.
"Oh well… That was more Superman really, all of those special powers of his and such got to the real root of the disease pattern… I just connected the dots really."
"Ah Superman, I had seen him the other day when he dropped our special patients off. Why he was with the Princess Diana, I must say those two look quite the pair side by side." Thorne chewed on the tip of his pen has he recalled the meeting.
"You don't say," Lois spoke rather unenthusiastically, "So tell me Doctor Thorne, why close off this entire wing of the hospital when the men are restrained and harmless? Furthermore why haven't the police even escorted them to a prison or even a courtroom?"
"Two of the three men were moved to a prison for questioning, Ms. Lane. Though they were just grunts, knowing little if any useful information. Any comments they made apparently lead to the idea that the third, Damon Theodore was the mastermind." The good Doctor spoke glumly as he began to wag his finger, counting down the room numbers, obviously getting close to the one they were looking for.
"And he's being kept here still I assume? So why's that? Why didn't he go off with the other two?"
"Here we are." Thorne stopped at the white door, the numbers 346 painted plainly in black on it. Thorne took a quick glance at the clipboard in his hand before looking back at Lois.
"Doctor?" He still hadn't answered her question.
"Something happened to Mr. Theodore, something completely random and as of yet, unexplainable. I do hope you're not squeamish Ms. Lane." He laid one hand on the door, pausing a brief moment to collect himself before steadily easing it open. He noted to go in first, Lois following not that far behind him. The atmosphere transformation was so sudden and significant that Lois' breath was caught in her throat. It was like stepping in from the real world into nothingness, an empty vacuum. There was no feeling, air or lack there of pressing against her skin. Five feet away from her a tall white hospital curtain stretched out to it's full width. It was when she began to approach it that some feeling was regained within the room. It was warmth, but no in a good way, a humid sticky mass enveloping and intensifying upon her as she drew closer to it.
"Ms. Lane," Thorne grasped one end of the curtain, his knuckles white, he must have felt the invisible pressure as well; "Let me introduce you to Mr. Theodore." With that he practically ripped the curtain to the opposite side.
"Oh-." Her stomach lurched and she instinctively threw her hand up to her mouth at the sight. He looked like Carrie, post pig-blood dumping. The red stuff ran around his entire body like a circulatory system of veins outside of the skin. His eyes were covered with the worst cataracts Lois had ever seen on a human being, while his mouth lay slack in a frozen image of pure terror.
"Why-." Lois took a breath, collecting herself and hardening that journalist exterior, "Why hasn't the body been moved… cleaned? Don't you have a morgue or something for… specimens like this?"
"Morgue is for the dead, Ms. Lane," Thorne paced carefully around to the far bedside, his eyes glued to the crimson soaked body, "Mr. Theodore, is not."
"Come again?" Lois set her full sights upon the body with limited nausea, but that's about as far as she was willing to go.
"His pulse is actually racing at an extremely abnormal rate. And the blood, well take a good look at it for yourself, Ms. Lane."
"I'm fine, thanks."
"Can you at least see something unusual?" Lois grimaced and tried to find the thing that didn't fit, the clue, one of the most essential parts to investigating a story.
"…How long has he been like this?"
"Over 24 hours." The Doctor's lit up as if he was pushing her towards the truth; it was on the tip of her tongue.
"This blood hasn't coagulated at all, has it?" A tingling feeling ran down her spine as she fished around inside her purse for something.
"No. It remains fresh. There are no external cuts whatsoever as to where the blood has come from. Additionally, when you run a finger through one of the streams…" He strapped on a rubber glove, rubbing his index finger across one of the seeming hundreds of red lines. Of course the blood smeared and separated in the spot his tip ran through but then…
"It begins to separate, but in no time it reconnects and fixes itself again," Sure enough the two broken pieces of the blood circuit were reattached by a fresh flow of the stuff, "Like a constant stream; it's as if the blood is leaking from the very pores of his skin, going in and out through various areas of the body. Never in all my years as a doctor have I ever seen anything like this…so…. Supernatural… so archaic, like a work of the Gods." The Doctor rambled, but Lois' ears were not privy to all of what he said. Her eyes were alight, as she finally fished out what she was looking for. She flipped her camera phone open and hovered it over top of the poor Mr. Theodore.
"Notice something strange here over the chest and upper abdomen?" Lois directed his gaze with her phone. True enough, there was something different about this particular area. The constant lines of blood overlapped, turned, twisted, and crossed with each other at various points and intersections. It was like one giant congested highway of red liquid. They were packed so closely and intricately together that seemed to suspiciously produce a unique image.
"Ah yes… I was not sure what to make of that in particular."
"It looks kind of like… a knife? Something sharp alright, the sharpened corners of it say that much."
"Ah, but the base is rather long for it to be a knife, hm?" The Doctor hypothesized, tracing invisible lines just above the body to emphasize where he was looking. It was true, the blade was somewhat shaped like a narrow rhombus, diamond-like in easier terms. But connected to it was a long, narrow cylindrical shaft-like shape.
"Ok… so it kinda' resembles a javelin, or a spear or something…" She clicked a button and the flash went off. She then brought the phone closer to her and punched in a few button sequences.
"May I enquire into what you are doing?" Doctor Thorne had to have been a little on edge with everything the reporter was doing, he was already pulling a lot of strings to get her in wing to begin with.
"I'm sending this photo shot to a colleague of mine back in Metropolis, see if he can make anything from it… he's one of those bookie research types."
"Ms. Lane, you think this occurrence has strong potential for something bigger, hm?"
"A hunch, Doctor. I've worked the field long enough to have been gifted with a sixth sense of sorts. I can tell when a story is going to explode into something huge. I predicted the coming of Superman after his first rescue of that space shuttle, I was one of the first to discover the Cadmus Cloning Controversies back a year ago, and trust me… this story, it's going to be the next Big Bang."
DI-DEET! DI-DEET! The sound of Clark's email alert rang off on his office computer, which was incidentally on the other side of Metropolis. He turned his ear to the direction of the alert, but continued on his set flight course.
"Everything alright?" Wonderwoman was flying on his right, the two of them having met each other atop the Metropolitan Supreme Court building. The promise was that he would escort her into the investigations, and Superman liked to keep up the reputation that he was true to his word.
"Yeah fine, my ears just pick up a little white noise now and again." She nodded understanding, but he could tell she was trying to grasp the whole concept of super-hearing. He wasn't exactly sure what clearance she had to go through with her government officials in order to get a "free day" as this one was; but as far as his own career went, the Chief thought Clark was chasing a lead from within the Embassy walls. From there, Clark woke up from his apartment a little early and did some extra patrolling, making sure everything was as it should be before he went off on this current mission. He was a perfectionist, and that combined with his moral obligations forced him to make sure a gang war wouldn't explode somewhere, or a hostage situation in the slums wouldn't erupt. Everything had been quiet, save for a near rear-ending in a more congested area of traffic, and a potentially sunken cargo ship before Superman spotted the hole and welded it shut.
"Hey, what about that snapped cable incident at your press conference? Security has any ideas how that occurred?" He made small talk as best a superhero could with another he knew very little about.
"Priscilla's insisted on spear-heading the investigation into that mishap. The majority of opinion is that it just snapped, but that answer seems too simple."
"I don't know, individuals such as ourselves spend our days chasing down conspiracy plots and ingenious doomsday plans, that sometimes the simplest answers we cannot accept." Superman provided a different insight, but was far from wanting the Princess to let her guard down on account of the already surplus number of attempts on her life.
"Can we trust that nobody has alerted the media to our visit with Mr. Turpin?" Diana made a change of subject back to their current situation, "I can hardly see us reaching the elevator if reporters know where we are." There was a touch of dread to her voice.
"No worries. In such situations I tend to go through the roof exits of buildings. I've been informed that Turpin's room is on the highest floor anyway. We should get in and out relatively unscathed." Reaching the hospital, they descended rapidly onto the roof. Superman, obviously trying to keep chivalry alive opened the roof door and beckoned Diana in first. There was one flight of stairs left to traverse to get to their floor, but the two were better suited to leaping over the railing and hovering down to their destination.
"Only some hospital staff and a police officer or two, the wing's been effectively cut off, we're good." Superman replied with a quick x-ray scan, then pushing the door open. The almost luminous white colours of the medical wing were a positive atmosphere change to the drab stone gray's and browns of the stairwell. The Metropolis General was top of the line as far as hospitals went, this was due in part to Lex Luthor's occasional large donations to the renovations and technologies of it; just one of those philanthropic acts to keep the public dissuaded of his less favourable activities.
"This public celebrity status makes it hard to interact much of the time." Wonderwoman made observation as the staff became aware of their presence. Each one had frozen on the spot, staring blankly in awe at the two of them side by side.
"All a matter of patience and adapting, Princess. You're a symbol now after all," Superman spoke privately to her and then turned his attention towards the others, "Forgive this interruption, I know you all have important work to be done. We'll only be speaking briefly with Mr. Turpin, thank you." He ended with a smile, though the doctors and nurses still required another moment or two before they got moving again. A sole officer approached them, hands on his hips rather uptight.
"Superman, Princess Diana," He nodded to each as he said their names, "Pleasure to have you on the case. Though the entire force is a little skeptical having the target helping with the investigation…" Clark could almost feel Diana's passion and irritation well up into something outward.
"I'm sorry Officer," She was severely trying to keep her lashing tongue at bay, "But these attempts on my life are sullying my advocacy of peace. I am not going to take a sitting position and merely allow it to get worse." The Officer accepted the answer, but also based in part because he knew in the back of his head that the Amazonian could toss him through the ceiling.
"Well then, would you mind showing us to Officer Turpin's room-?" Before the question could fully escape Superman's lips, one of the hospital room doors was flung open. A Medical Resident decked out in navy scrubs skidded along the floor into the hallway, followed by a flying tray of food.
"TRYIN' TO POISON ME!" A gruff voice emanated from the inside of the room.
"…Never mind." The two walked past the Officer with courtesy and into the open doorway. The second they went through the frame, a TV remote went sailing straight at them. Wonderwoman caught it out of the air effortlessly and then began to study it curiously. The remote came from the loose hand of Dan Turpin, who was now standing up on his hospital bed waving his arms like a rabid ape. Upon the sight of blue, red and gold he withdrew his aggression and took to sitting back down.
"Superman. I'd heard you might be showing up." The redness of his face was more attributed to embarrassment rather than anger.
"Well you're looking healthy." Superman remarked casually, as far as he could tell, this was regular Terrible Turpin on a good day, but the disgruntled SCU officer hadn't been pointing his gun at him.
"Haven't taken a sick day in five years," He punched his broad chest to exemplify his toughness, "The hospital's just a polite way of keeping me detained… or actually making me sick, can't tell with this cafeteria slop they throw at ya'."
"No restraints of any sort, I see." Wonderwoman was colder in tone and approach; she set the remote aside and focused her entire stone gaze upon her would-be assassin. Turpin had a nice glare of his own, Superman remembered, but in this situation he was actually more willing to take the apologetic stance.
"My men told me about what I allegedly did-."
"There's nothing alleged about it, you tried to shoot me, and took out several of "your men" in the process to do it."
"It's not what you think." Turpin would never allow himself to be backed into a corner of any sort; his stance was firm.
"Well that's the reason we're hear, Turpin," Superman cut in, "We don't know what exactly to think, so we want to hear what you have to say. I've always known you as a good man, but I stood in the way of your barrel, and there was quite some conviction behind that firearm."
"You'd know better than me I guess." The graying officer grumbled in irritation.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Wonderwoman took a step forward into the fray of things.
"I don't remember any of it, the gun, the attacking, the near shooting, nothing of it has come in my head yet."
"That's quite farfetched." Wonderwoman came off somewhat irritated. She didn't know Turpin like Superman did, so to her his excuse seemed like a last ditch kind where he couldn't think up a more logical one.
"Yeah well, you two are a regular couple of Joe and Jane's who can defy gravity and chuck a freight train, so you tell me what is and what isn't farfetched, Princess." The insolence pouring off of him was enough to anger any one person who didn't know Turpin, especially one of royalty.
"He's not lying, Wonderwoman." Superman said matter-of-factly.
"Oh?"
"Heartbeat, breathing, all steady, he's 100 truthful, I can tell."
"Well a man with no memories isn't much of a lead." She reasoned.
"Would that I could help you, ma'am. But from what I've been told I got whacked down pretty hard." The Inspector tapped his forehead lightly to illustrate.
"Maybe you can still help us though, with a little push." Diana figured she would have to eventually resort to the method in her mind right then.
"What are you talking about?" Superman became instantly curious, Turpin no less.
"What are doing?"
"Relax." The Princess reached to her side and pulled off what appeared to be a yellowish-golden coloured rope of some sort. But there was more to it than just it's colour, it seemed to pulse with strength and majesty. She began to unfurl it to its full length, a noose at the end wide enough to wrap around a person.
"This some sort of sick interrogation trick?! I told you don't remember anything!"
"I know Mr. Turpin," The Princess' voice was soothing, despite the danger Turpin thought he was in with her. Both men in the room noticed that the gold rope seemingly began to glow and pulsate, "This is my magic lasso."
"Magic…lasso?" Superman was a mixture of being taken aback, but keeping a subtle intrigue all the same. Wonderwoman meanwhile was flexing the rope within her grip, gracefully inching towards an already unsteady Turpin.
"Please relax Mr. Turpin. This instrument will not hurt you, however you will feel a compelling urge to tell the truth. I'm not entirely aware of its full potential, but perhaps it will help you recall those forgotten memories." She was roughly a foot away before he held a beefy hand up.
"Whoa, whoa! I'm to believe that shiny little cow-wrangler of yours is going to give my brain a boost? Let's be serious…"
"If you have no guilty conscience to hide, I fail to see the problem." She had a certain command to her that Turpin had not witnessed by any police superior he had ever had in his long career.
"I would do it Dan," Superman assured him, "I trust she knows what she's doing." Turpin's gaze went past Diana over to Superman and gave a final nod.
"Yeah alright, let's see how this little doo-hickey works…" Diana gave him a warm smile as thanks for his acceptance and then gently dropped it over his head. It fell down to his forearms and although it still glowed, he had yet to feel anything weird.
"Now relax, the effects should happen almost instantly-." She pulled on the lasso and the noose tightened around him. Turpin was born and would die a law-abiding American citizen, never once had he done a single drug in his life. But the euphoria that passed over his body just then, he imagined was the closest he could get to experience such a high. That golden glow began to stretch itself across his skin and through the flesh, making his stature slacken and relax. His mind, every little secret, every little nook and cranny opened up like a thick book, its contents waiting to be read. Strangest of all, he didn't even care; he was drifting through a haze of peace, waiting to be asked a question, so that he may share his wealth of experiences.
"Mr. Turpin," Diana's voice came across so melodic to his ears now, "I need you to remember all that transpired at my peace conference the previous day. Tell me all that you remember." In his normal state, Turpin could not recall a moment of his sudden animosity. However, with the magical lasso tightly bound around him, its warmth and persuasion willed these memories to return. The haze slowly parted, making a narrow cavern of nothingness in the Officer's wake, and then he saw him. He was a man set apart from the entire atmosphere; he did not belong. He wore a trench coat, the darkest he had ever seen. It didn't hang off his body like a normal one would either; no, this one swam around his physique, like it was alive. Upon closer look, Turpin realized that it was composed of tortured, angry souls of the living. From the man's head, he removed a fedora made of similar tortured soul. He smiled devilishly and held out a hand.
"All in the same of the Spear, my friend."
"Detective Resa." The name procured from his mind and escaped his lips to the outside world. And from there, all hell broke loose.
"AUUUUGH!" Turpin cried aloud as he was torn from the warm haze and engulfed in a raging inferno. It was a massive cyclone of orange and red, burning and crackling his skin, poisoning his very soul with feelings of rage and violence. In the center of the vortex, the man simply laughed in delight.
"What's it doing to him?!" Superman ran forward as Turpin began to lash and write within his gold bondings.
"I don't know! This has never happened before!" Diana pulled tighter on her end, restricting Turpin's wild thrashes. The screams were unholy, his eyes empty pools of no control.
"IT'S THE SPEAR!" His screams undoubtedly echoed through the entire wing, "THE SPEAR PRODS ME FORWARD TO HIS ULTIMATE VICTORY OVER THIS REALM!" Clashing with the Lasso's golden tint, a crimson red aura formed around Turpin's entire body, before exploding into a splash of energy that quickly dispersed and vanished into thin air with a great whooshing noise. Turpin flopped over on his back, all struggling ceased immediately.
"Dan!" Superman bounded for the hospital bed but Diana reassured him.
"It's alright, he's fine, see?" The older Officer's chest moved up and down, slow and powerful. His eyes were wide open, showing him fully conscious, in temporary shock if anything.
"I'm sorry Mr. Turpin, I've never experienced something like that before with my Lasso. It must be unique to you somehow-."
"Knew there was something funny about that guy…" Dan started to speak through hoarse words.
"You said a name," Superman followed Diana's example of getting right down to business, "A Detective Resa, who is that? What's his significance?"
"Detective. Resa," Turpin was slow with his word outtake, "Never heard of him before until yesterday. Came up to me… strangest thing when he-."
"Aaaaaaaand that would be MY cue!"
BLAAAAAM! The wall behind the three of them exploded spontaneously, the large oaken door flying straight for the Inspector. Superman was fast on the reflexes, throwing his hands out and catching it like an off-shaped Frisbee. It blocked his vision however, and by the time he tossed it aside, a large fist crashed into his face, with enough force to send the Man of Steel sailing out the window.
"SUPERMAN!" Diana cried out at the sound of the glass shattering.
"Oh reeelax! Blue Boy gets tossed through all kinds of crap every day, always bounces back!" The voice was oily and snake-like. Diana turned to find a seemingly unordinary looking man, a little taller if anything. His hair was sandy blonde, greased over to the side, over top a narrow face. His eyes were cold and calculatiing, while his smile was like that of a shark's. He wore a long brown overcoat, along with a simple white t-shirt and slacks, like some amateur Hitman.
"I don't know who you are-."
"Glad you asked. Its John Corben, and the Inspector is coming with me.