Boogeymen III: House Of 1000 Cliches

by Legend Maker

On All Hallows Eve, the battle between the worst of the bad guys and the worst of the horror films continues. Blood! Gore! Comedy! Weight Gain! People Falling Down! Let the slaughter of villain and trope continue! Story should not be read by the humorless

2. In Soviet Russia, Movie Horrors YOU!

Part 2: In Soviet Russia, Movie Horrors YOU!

Writer's Note: Sorry for how long the opening chapter was. But hey, you made it. Now, if you're a newcomer and get confused over so many characters, here is a listing of the characters: first will be the characters canon to DC (And hence appeared on the show, in the comics, or both) and then the original characters created by various authors. Real names will be given if known.

Canon

Slade: Slade Wilson (also known as Deathstroke the Terminator). Expert mercenary and warrior, the Titan's greatest foe.

Ravager: Rose Wilson, Slade's teenage daughter. Inheritor of Slade's abilities as well as a unique precognitive ability all her own. Only appeared in the comics.

Control Freak: Overweight, unshaven geek extraordinaire, dubbed a 'technosorcer' in my world, technosorcery being a dangerous but potent blend of science and magic. Has a remote control that can warp reality in various ways as well as several other geek-inspired weapons. Control Freak's remote has been the trigger for the horror monsters coming to life in every Boogeymen story thus far.

Brotherhood of Evil: Have left the story. Considering what they've seen, they probably won't be coming back.

Puppet King: Once a living wooden puppet with 'The magic', now a living wooden puppet that's the punching bag of every single other villain. Why do I treat him so badly? I don't know, it's just funny.

Dr. Light: Arthur Light. Slightly dim-witted scientist who either has a suit that allows him the power pf photokinesis (mental control of light), or has an innate photokinesis ability, or a bit of both. In any case, he doesn't exactly have a lot of mental or moral strength to go along with it (the version that appears here will mostly be in the vein of the Doctor Light who appears on the show, rather then the far more competent villain Doctor Light has recently become in the comics)

Blackfire: Komand'r. Starfire's supposedly stronger sister, Blackfire's nasty lifestyle and its heavy consequences seem to be weighing on the alien's soul…but that may not last.

Mumbo: Magician with varying strength levels, but he has a fair number of tricks. Since this world is far more adult then the original cartoon show, Mumbo has somehow acquired a marijuana addiction.

Adonis: Small man, big robot suit, small brain.

Johnny Rancid: Motorcycle riding punk.

Melchior: Evil dragon now trapped in a body made of paper.

Atlas: Megalomaniac robot.

Psimon: Simon Jones. Cruel and sadistic mentalist with immense telepathic and telekinetic powers. Based more on the current comic version then the one that appeared in the show.

Torque: Dudley Soames, psychopathic former policeman whose violent origin has given him a unique look on life. Did not appear in the show, as you may have guessed. Why is he here? Visiting, I guess.

Original

The Lord of the Night: Murderous vigilante turned shadow-god. Nowhere near as amusing as he comes off in here, he may be the Titan's strongest foe to Slade's greatest. Wields the power of darkness itself, which manifests in a wide range of abilities: used a mechanical arm and sword before gaining such powers.

The Sorceress: Ithlian. Heard of Dr. Strange? The Sorceress is him on steroids. Despite such immense power, her overestimation of her abilities did not fare well for her in her attempts to conquer the world. As said, not as amusing in 'reality' as she is here. As she said before, she has a spell for everything.

Kurai: After Robin and Terra fell through, Kurai became Slade's permanent apprentice. Obsessed with honor and proving his superiority as a warrior (he's Japanese, but that doesn't mean anything, really). Kurai's family talent is a rare martial arts style known as "Bachi no Kami" (roughly translated, "Punishment of the Gods") which allows him to wield immensely destructive energy, as well as increasing his strength. Gets angry easily and doesn't suffer fools gladly: unfortunately he sees a lot of the world as fools.

The White Hole: Rebecca Styles (English approximation of her alien name Rebecalnatrac Styilnifanalan). The best of the best of the best of the best of the warrior Blacktrinian race, the White Hole. Unfortunately, she's also by nature as savage as a whole rainforest of rabid animals, and she has immense strength and skill to back it up. She only behaves because the Lord makes her…and even then…

Killjoy: Mythical assassin so skilled he was thought to be an urban legend even by Batman (until he tried and failed to assassinate the Titans, all good things must come to an end). A superman with one gun, a god with two. Never speaks. The very essence of a sociopath, with eyes like the Arctic.

Asphyxiation: Jack Djinn. Psychotic and sadistic Australian with a unique red energy talent called the Grimmer which can performs various tasks of strength and shapeshifting: it also serves as his hands after a battle resulted in the original flesh and blood ones being amputated. Violent misogynist who likes to strangle women (who he calls 'pretty birdies') to death, though he'll enjoy killing anyone he can. Far more often called by his first name Jack then by his codename, as Asphyxiation doesn't really roll off the tongue.

The Handyman: Remember Al Borland from the show Home Improvement? Take his basic character traits and make him a supervillain. Need I say more?

The Brick: Dr. Henry Vogel. The ever-present brilliant scientist whose attempt to cure a deadly degenerative disease worked too well: not only did his body recover it began to grow stronger beyond all human limits…with an unfortunate decrease in mental facilities at the same time, resulting in an incredibly strong dunce, more a villain due to being easily manipulated then by choice. Called the Brick because he's as strong, tough, and intelligent as one. Sadly, his condition ensures that he may yet become a brain-dead slab of muscle…

Doctor Westminster: A newcomer to the villain scene, past and motives unknown. Seems to have an enhanced skeletal structure (his skin is covered by flexible bone armor) with some ability to control it, making his bones deadly weapons (and ones that seem capable of swiftly regenerating themselves). Unfortunately, from the painkillers he carries, one will assume this ability is fairly agonizing.

Nightwalker: Sine (whether this is her first or last name is unknown, assumed first). Former Hive member who once concealed her sex on the basis that only males were taken seriously in attempts to learn combat and fighting skills. Has a slight metahuman ability that makes her a touch above human parameters in strength, speed, agility, and reflexes: also has varied but scattershot training in hand to hand combat, wears a cobbled together armored suit complete with a newly built high tech version of the motorcycle helmet she wore to disguise her identity and gender once, and wears special gauntlets on each arm that fire small orbs at high speed and with powerful impact (occasionally with a nasty surprise hidden inside).

And the only one to have experienced the Boogeymen effect before, as she was a member of the Hive when it occurred last year. It appears that lighting has struck twice…

---

The best laid plans of mice and men were to ever be led astray, or so the saying went…

But as she had been told so many times in her life, she was a woman. But it didn't seem Nightwalker was exempt from that saying, as her eyes flickered open.

It had happened again.

She'd thought it might…but never seriously. Time spent in hard reality had allowed a fog to creep over the incident that had exposed her to the Hive…and had actually been the trigger for her to stop hiding who she was. She tended to focus on that journey…not the madness that had begun it.

And as October had come around again, she had been struck by a sense of disquiet, albeit one her rational mind would not let her fully express. But her subconscious had, as Halloween had drawn close.

And so she had ended up here. In this place nicknamed the 'Villain's Café'. Was she a villain? She didn't know. She had enough murk in her motives to be let in, after all…but even so, she felt out of place. But that didn't matter. Because she'd thought, somewhere deep down, this would the last place something like that would happen again. There was surely too much power to allow it.

And she'd been wrong. And once again, she was trapped in the nightmare…

…Well, at least she was better off. She knew what to expect…and her subconscious worry had resulted in her lugging a personal briefcase of ammo into this place with her. And this wasn't a group of confused kids. These were the elite, the hardcore. Surely they…

The lights were flickering back on (every place always had a backup generator it seemed) when Nightwalker sensed it. She felt a bit…off.

She couldn't quite place it, but she really didn't feel like herself. She felt along her body, but found no wounds from the shockwave that had engulfed her and caused her to lose all sense of direction. She was lying on the ground near the bar it seemed, as she started getting up, trying to blink her vision back into working order. She didn't feel any pain…just a strange…

…softness?

Nightwalker blinked again as she shook her head, trying to fully rewire her senses. She couldn't lie here long. The attacks had begun in the Hive mere seconds after the effect had triggered, and Nightwalker had a feeling it might be even worse this time…

And she got up.

And she saw him.

And she knew what was wrong with her. And she knew how right she was. It was worse.

There stood the Lord, in the middle of a bunch of wreckage that had once been a neatly arranged bar/restaurant. It was as if he'd been the only one to hold his feet.

He was staring, his eyes dark with simmering rage, at his hands.

His pink, flesh and blood hands.

The Lord of the Night. Shadow-god.

No more.

Whatever that effect had been, he had been at the center of it. And he wasn't the man he used to be.

Because he, quite literally, was now the man he used to be.

---

It had been surprisingly peaceful. Rather like jumping into water. First you were dry, and then you were wet.

And caught off guard, again…he'd been unable to block or deflect it. He'd felt it reach into him, and yank his power away. His impatience to get the Orb up had kept him from casting any proper protection spells, and when the effect had triggered, for all his efforts, it had affected him as well.

It had robbed him of his essence. His glory. He could no longer feel the darkness. All he could feel was his accursed self.

Somewhere, he knew something, he didn't know what but he knew it existed, was laughing at him.

It only made the rage in his heart burn even brighter.

"…I'm…mortal." He hissed in a low tone between clenched teeth, as he stared at his hands…

Two hands. His shadow body had been transmogrified into a similar human form, rather then his old one that had certain injuries. That did not give him any comfort.

…The Orb.

He darted his head at the wall of artifacts.

Which pretty much now only existed in memory: said wall was now a shattered, burned wreck, various overloaded and destroyed magical doodads dangling from it, all of them destroyed in the chain reaction that had allowed the effect such might to reach in and even strip him of his power…

But if the Orb was destroyed, the effect would be undone. Which meant that it was probably still intact. And if the wall where it had been attacked was destroyed…there was a good chance it was somewhere in this bar. He'd find it, and he'd get what belonged to him back…he'd probably have to manipulate the…

…The Sorceress.

A supreme master of magic, as the Lord turned his head towards where she had been before. Maybe she had been able to…

And then, as the Lord saw where she was now, he realized even she had not been spared.

She was sitting in the corner, her eyes dull with shock, her robes a tangled mess around her legs. She wasn't floating any more. The Lord couldn't tell if he'd ever seen her not floating. And that was the least of it. The aura she had was gone. The frailness of her body was now starkly observant, nothing to cloak or obscure it.

She too had had her powers stripped from her. Even she, a magician so great that the number of mages in a thousand realities that could match her could be counted on one hand.

This was no random error of judgment compounding on itself. Nothing like that could have had an effect like this.

It was almost as if it was fate.

But the Lord quickly dismissed that. He was a master of his own fate. This was not a downfall. Just a bump in the road.

And people were going to die for it.

"Ugh…did anyone get the number for that bullet train…?" Kurai asked as he pushed himself up from under a flipped table. "Master Slade…"

"I am here Kurai. Unharmed." Slade said as he got up from the semi-fall he'd taken. Kurai looked around and saw that Rose was nearly next to him, also getting up. His eyes began to narrow…

And then he saw her face, and that stopped.

It was subtle…but it was there. The spark of attention and interest that Rose had had in her remaining eye, the one that had maddened him so much with it's subtle-but-there amused twinkle that she'd stepped in and replaced him as Slade's No 1, the twinkle that kept flashing every time she one-upped him in any way, had…faded, just a tad. It was hard to place exactly how…but it had, as Rose began standing up, blinking.

And then she looked around, and Kurai saw a further deviation. This was nothing like the cool observation that Slade would have taught his daughter after a sudden attack, something he'd hammered into Kurai and surely Rose as well. No…this had an aspect of…amusement. As if, rather then trying to establish the situation, Rose was wondering what had happened…in the way of someone who had been looking for fun and been surprised along the way.

Like she didn't fully grasp the concept, and was too dumb to realize the danger in such a mindset.

"Ohhhhhh…what was that?" Rose said. And in her voice, Kurai didn't hear a trace of the cool calmness from before. Instead he heard…a teenage girl.

"…Oh, Slade-sama is not going to be happy about this…"

"Hey, what the fuck!" Came a sudden yell. A female yell, as Blackfire got up from where she'd fallen behind the bar. "What just happened? What the fuck kind of bar do you run, Lord? First robbers, and now…lightning or…whatever! X'hal!"

Slade's eyes were drawn to the cursing alien: apparently whatever despondency had possessed her before was gone. He noticed Killjoy nearby was also observing the alien, probably for the same reasons…or maybe he was annoyed at losing his dominoes and didn't like the noise.

"Shut up Komand'r." The Lord snapped.

"Oh WHAT did you say?" Blackfire snarled back.

"Want to blast me? Go ahead. Try." The Lord said. Blackfire snarled and thrust out her hands…which glowed a very dull purple for about half a second and fired a small stream of purple sparks.

"…Hey! What the fuck did you do to me?" Blackfire yelled.

"I didn't do anything. I'm afraid that this is quite beyond my control. Otherwise it wouldn't have affected me." The Lord said. "People, I do not have the time or the inclination to draw it out, so I'll just say it outright. Our powers have been sealed."

"What?" The White Hole said from where she was, also behind the bar (apparently tossed there).

"Our powers have been taken from us, Styles. Sealed away by immensely powerful magic. You don't believe how powerful, ask the Sorceress why she's sitting on the ground staring at the wall." The Lord said, pointing at the shocked magician. "Don't bother bitching, I don't like it any more then you do, and probably less."

The White Hole snorted.

"Maybe your powers have been taken away, but I'm fine. So don't lump me in with your newly admitted weakness." The alien said.

"Rebecca, I am NOT in the mood for-"

That was as far as the Lord got, as the White Hole suddenly swung up her arms and with a snarling yell slashed them down, the metallic claws crashing through the bar in front of her and reducing the entire section immediately before her to toothpicks, as the claws slammed into the ground so hard they rocked the whole building (though only a bit).

"Don't question me again." The White Hole said, as she stood up straight and began brushing herself off. The Lord stared.

"What the hell! Why can…!" Blackfire cursed, and then tried to fire a Blackbolt again, only to produce the same purple sparks. "Fuck!"

Blackfire, no slouch in the strength department either, then tried punching her own section of the bar. A loud crack signaled she had done some kind of damage to it, but part of the cracking noise may have been her hand, as she screamed and began cursing in Tamaranian as she held it.

"Wait, why is her power not sealed?" Jack snarled, and the Lord found himself looking at Jack's hands. Much to his surprise, they were still there…but duller. Fainter. "Someone better…"

"Hey Jack, catch." The Lord said, as he picked up a piece of wreckage and tossed it underhand at Jack. Instinctively, Jack did try and catch it…and did…or it seemed like it, as after a few fumbling motions the small piece of debris clattered to the ground.

"You trying to make a point, mate?" Jack said. "I don't care for tossers of any kind."

"Yes. A point. I said our powers have been sealed. That statement may need some refinement." The Lord said, as he walked over to where Punk Rocket, still lying dazed on the ground, was. The villain whose glasses being dumped on the electrical socket had caused the effect to trigger and put them in this mess.

"Get up." The Lord snapped.

"Wait sir, I…!" Punk Rocket protested as he did get up: he would normally be defiant, except he didn't have his guitar…and plus, the Lord scared him anyway.

"Go into my office. In the closet there will be a sealed black metal case. I want you to bring it to me. NOW." The Lord snapped. Punk Rocket didn't question the order, he was too eager to avoid punishment (even though the whole reason he got stuck in one place and fell over and spilled the drinks on the damaged electrical socket in the first place was the Lord's last use of his power before it was sealed). Maybe once he got his hands on his guitar, things would be different…

"My knowledge of magical artifacts is competent, but I am not an expert." The Lord said as he walked through the bar, noting once again the villains who were there (some of them hadn't gotten up yet or recovered from the blast). "I will attempt to consult with the resident expert. Ithlian, do you have any theories on these observed effects?"

"…how…I'm…can't…be…" The Sorceress said, more to herself then in any form of reply.

"The resident expert is currently out to lunch. Let's hope she gets back soon, this is not a time for an extended break." The Lord said as he stepped away from the Sorceress, still utterly in shock over the fact that her powers were sealed. In a part of him, the Lord wasn't really surprised. As furious as he was at losing (TEMPORARILY!) his powers, he could remember a time when he didn't have them. He could adapt back to that level of ability until he got back his rightful godhood. But the time when the woman/mystic called Ithlian was anything but the Sorceress had faded away into the mists of history. Faced with being only a little more then a human, if that, was paralyzing Ithlian's brain. The Lord hoped that wore off soon. He hated dead weight.

"Lacking the resident expert's opinion, I am only able to guess…"

And then there was a sudden rumbling, and then a pile of wreckage and part of a collapsed wall was pushed away as the Brick emerged from under it. The Lord looked at him…but across the room he couldn't see it.

That, in the end, didn't matter.

"Dear God in Heaven! I can think properly, and speak!" The Brick said, as the Lord arched an eyebrow. The Brick's dull monotone had been replaced by a rich baritone voice, lacking any hint of slowness. "I remember my schooling, my joys, my passions!…Wow, I have been really stupid. Slade, that wasn't nice hiring me as a support beam for your last base."

"You were a responsible adult and you agreed to it…" Slade, who was apparently checking the status of his personal equipment (his weapons, you perverts. As in his gun, you hentais!…Argh! As in the metal and plastic device that shoots metal projectiles that go into living things and hurt them, get your mind out of the gutter, geez!) said, before he realized just who he was speaking to and looked up.

"I must call you on the deception in your statement, Mr. Deathstroke. Such an abuse speaks little of you, even considering your reputation to the world." Brick said. Slade blinked with his remaining eye.

"As I was saying, I must amend my statement." The Lord said again, before any other conversation could start. "Due to this reaction, our powers have been sealed..."

"What? You mean you have no powers at ALL?" The Handyman gasped.

"Well if the ability to walk around and make dramatic speeches was a power…" The White Hole commented.

"Styles, quiet." The Lord said, well aware that if what he was theorizing was true, she could shred him into hamburger, but refusing to show the slightest touch of fear or intimidation. "And Handyman, were you not paying attention the first few times or are you simply an idiot?"

"Hey! Watch who…!" The Handyman yelled as he whipped out a hammer…that with a blur of his leg the Lord kicked out of his hand. "Aheh…carry on…wait, are you sure you have no powers?"

"Why do you care idiot? You don't have any powers yourself. That potentially makes you stronger then half the people in here now!" Mad Mod commented (far away from the White Hole, the Lord noted).

"Yeah, but metahumans make better shields…"

"SHUT UP!" The Lord snapped. "Our powers have been sealed. You can see the evidence all around you. Blackfire cannot summon her destructive energy. Doubtlessly Kurai cannot either."

"Do not presume to speak for me, darkling-san." Kurai said, as he raised his hands and flexed his fingers, the digits being coated in red energy…that faded after several seconds. "Even if you are mostly correct. I cannot muster much strength, nor for any length of time. But do not think this makes me any less a warrior, so speak wisely lest you never speak again."

"Are you always on?" The Lord muttered. "Other examples: Brick's great strength was linked to his mental weakness. As a side effect of his strength being sealed, his intelligence had returned to normal levels, allowing him to speak in more then monosyllabic grunts. And if I really must provide more examples, you will notice that the newcomer known as Doctor Westminster no longer has a covering of bone over his skin."

Westminster, who had actually been looking at Blackfire's hurt hand (though she was rude and snippy about it), blinked, and then turned away as he hunted for a part of the bar that had a mirror. Much to his surprise, the Lord was right: pink skin now showed on his face where dull white bone had once been…which wasn't necessarily a good thing, as it meant he no longer had that protection. And…ugh, yanking and shooting bones out of his body had been bad enough before: he didn't want to consider it now.

"And as you can see, The Sorceress…has seen better days as well." The Lord said. He did not declare his own weakness. "However, as some of you may have noticed, those of you without actual skills, or subtle skills, are not so affected. How do you feel Slade?"

"…Fine." Slade said with no emotion, not giving a thing away. Hard to tell if he was lying. The Lord knew he had had chemical treatments that had resulted in Slade's ability to use 90 percent of his brain, as well as increase his body limits beyond natural human parameters, but the Lord was uncertain how much such an ability, especially one so ingrained into Slade's body, would be affected. Robin certainly pulled feats beyond human limits, and he didn't have any type of chemical enhancement or latent meta-genes. And Robin had also been unaffected by the last time the Orb of Archetypal had triggered in cue with this effect, which reminded the Lord how much he really should be looking for said Orb. Then again, if it was gone, the Lord didn't want anyone useful in the bar caught flat-footed over the problems they now faced.

"I'm ok here!" Rose said. Both Slade and the Lord glanced at Rose, noticing the slight change in her voice, while nearby, Kurai sweatdropped. He wasn't sure WHY: didn't something like this new mindset that had befallen Rose work in his advantage?

"And the other humans seem unaffected as well…and, I must notice, that Puppet King is still standing and moving, though he doesn't seem very alert." The Lord said, as he walked past the puppet and gave him a kick, which prompted a declaration of dislike of such treatment. "His life is magic. If all his 'power' were sealed, he'd just be a puppet. This, along with the White Hole's demonstration, has led me to believe that our powers have not been sealed fully."

Though, the Lord noted to himself, and only himself, that seemed to only apply to the ones who had been some distance from the Orb. He and the Sorceress had been right at ground zero…and it showed. What a pain in the ass.

"Indeed, considering the sheer amount of power in this bar combined, it is understandable why all of our respective powers could not be sealed completely, BUT, they have been sealed, to a GREAT degree. Jack's hands can barely maintain their tangibility, Blackfire and Kurai cannot use their blasting power, and the old gray mare she ain't what she used to be." The Lord said, pointing to the Sorceress with his thumb, as she was still on the ground and still in shock. "But, as demonstrated, we're not fully depowered."

"I'm not depowered at all, and if you say I am again I'll eat your guts." The White Hole snapped.

"Whatever. Because this nuisance is only half the problem." The Lord said. "There is another, far more aggravating affect. Now, some of you will not believe me, and some will have forgotten. But what has been unleashed is nothing less then fictional characters being brought into reality."

"…WHAT?" Jack said.

"Oh, you don't remember Jack? You were there! Drunk as hell, but there. You pitched a shit fit over losing your bet, remember?" The Lord said. He'd spied what he was looking for about twenty seconds ago, but had neglected to pick it up until now, as he reached down and scooped up a mangled hunk of foul-smelling materials that had once been Control Freak's remote. "You may not have understood me due to my angry ranting before, but I was attempting to remove Control Freak from this building before the chaos magic he can manifest and control through his construct here resulted in an extremely unusual and STUPID effect which I will call the 'horror atmosphere'. Basically, his stupid remote had allowed the monsters of horror films to come to life, as well as forcing anyone in the vicinity to act under the guidelines and rules of existence these films convey in their many efforts of cinematic trash. And now these monsters, since we were at the center of this effect, will more likely then not be coming after us."

The bar was silent.

And then Mumbo started cracking up…at least until Atlas hit him.

"Silence intoxicated human! You should not laugh at insane ramblings!"

"Oh, you think I'm making this up Atlas. You think this is all bullshit. Well, you can ask Slade. Or the White Hole. They were part of the group who observed the occasion last year…for entertainment purposes. Or you can ask Nightwalker. She lived through it."

"Uh…" Nightwalker said, really not wanting to bring up that she had briefly died in the climax of the nightmare. "…It's true. It was the exact same effect. It corrupted the area we were staying at…and it really did bring horror monsters to life. Movies and video games. And…it warped the atmosphere, the very fabric of reality of the place. Hallways moved around, turned into sections out of hell…worse. As ridiculous as it sounds…it's real. And we seem to have triggered…"

"No. We didn't. CONTROL FREAK did." The Lord snapped. "However, the assault on reality and general common sense that Nightwalker survived was not the first such incident. It was the second, as two years ago, on this very day, the Titans suffered the same occurrence when a short in their security system activated a remote of Control Freak's they had in their possession. The difference between their problem and the Hive's, though, was that their incident did not just involve the remote, but also activated another of the artifacts they had with them, the same one that has presently greatly reduced our powers: The Orb of Archetypal. In the Titans' case though, their powers were COMPLETELY sealed, leaving them little more then the teenage victims these creatures often seek in their garbage. Regrettably, none of them died, but as all of you surely know they show a cockroach level resistance to extermination."

Nightwalker decided not to point out that even if a Titan or two had died, Hive members HAD died, lots of them, and they had all returned to life when the horror atmosphere had been defeated, the act of banishing the chaos manifestations acting much like rewinding a tape (if you've stumbled across this piece of work sometime in the future, we used to watch movies on something called VIDEOTAPE, which had to be REWOUND. Hence this metaphor before DVD's or whatever entertainment medium you use took over and banished such a setup to the dustbin of the record player and the evening newspaper) and reversing everything that occurred, including her own death (and she had to stop thinking about that), and one could assume the same may have happened for the Titans.

"Despite my best efforts, this has happened here. The Orb has crippled our ability to respond, and the remote has allowed this nonsense to come and bother us…"

"Wait." Nightwalker said. "Control Freak was right when he said material was needed. The creatures that came after us only came out of the actual movies that we had in range of the effect, which seemed limited to the building we were in. Surely you don't…"

"I don't, but perhaps all of you were too busy being blinded by the pretty colors to see the power eruption escape from that damn hole in the roof and go to hell knows where. You can think if you like that it just plopped down in the sea, but I am not so stupid." The Lord snapped. "I doubt material on the spot will be required. I think this time the chaos magic sought what it needed. And what it found will be…"

And Punk Rocket, gasping for air, finally got back to the Lord, dragging a huge black metal case.

"Sorry! It was…well hidden…in the back." Punk Rocket said, as he dropped it at the Lord's feet.

The Lord didn't answer, as he knelt down and, with quick fingers, undid the several locks on the case and opened it up. Not many of the villains inside were at the proper angle to see what was inside it, but the Lord look satisfied, as he reached down and lifted something up.

A cyborg arm. Once, it had completely replaced the Lord's right limb, but when the Lord has ascended it had been discarded as unnecessary. But sometimes you formed attachments to certain things, and the Lord had found this was one of them, and he'd rebuilt it. Now he needed it, as he pressed a variety of buttons on it, and as the arm began to whir and open up the Lord pressed it against his right arm, trying to keep his face blank as it dug in, reattaching itself in a far from pleasant process.

It took about fifteen seconds, and then the Lord rose up, his right arm encased in the super high tech technology, as long black claws sprang from his fingers. Punk Rocket's eyes went as wide as saucers.

"…Thank you Punk Rocket." The Lord said. The rocker relaxed.

And then the Lord aimed his arm at the villain as a gun emerged and blew him away, as Punk Rocket flew backwards with a scream and landed on the ground, quite dead, blood leaking from his shattered form.

"You're fired Punk Rocket." The Lord said, the low but potent vehemence in his voice stripping any iota of humor the unintentional bad pun may have had. With his old arm back on, the Lord had quickly been reminded of what he had lost, and he'd taken it out on the one he viewed responsible. It didn't matter that technically HE had made Punk Rocket fall down. He'd fallen, and now he wouldn't be getting up.

"And when we find Control Freak, because I know he's still in here, I'm going to feed him his own ample guts." The Lord said.

"Not if I find him first." The White Hole growled, the scent of blood in her nostrils awakening her battle instincts, not to mention she wasn't exactly happy at being stuck in such a situation as the Lord was telling them they were in. She was a warrior, but war was not a place for comedy or absurdity, and this problem sounded like it had them both in spades. Talk about spoiling the broth.

"I may beat you both there, but I must ask, 'Lord', do you have a point to all your panegyric babbling or are you just indulging in your well known and overwrought love of hearing yourself talk?"

"Oh believe me Slade, I have one HELL of a point." The Lord said, as he walked over to the wall nearby and pushed a button. A panel slid open, and a very long and decorated katana slid out on a pedestal: the Lord snatched it up as he started walking back. "First of all, we are going to find that Orb. I believe that it is still somewhere in this bar. Maybe if it is, and we can find it, we can swiftly dispose of this most-vexing bullshit that is our powers being curtailed and solve the main problem even more swiftly. And if by some chance someone or something has, by some way, stolen away into the night with that Orb, we will do what we do best, and hunt them down." The Lord said, as he pulled the long, gleaming sword out, a metallic ring sounding through the air. It was a very nice blade, and Slade knew his weapons. "You see Slade, this is not like the last two times. We not only know quite well what we are facing, as vacuous as the whole concept is, but we are not a group of teenagers. We are not the victims. We are the ones who run this world, now or eventually. We are the ELITE."

The Lord spun his sword briefly, looking around at the bar. Wouldn't be easy controlling or manipulating all of them, even if he said it was for their own best interest to get their powers back. It would probably be best if he allied with Slade instead of trying to subordinate him, and not stab him in the back, if there was a point to it.

"A lot of people call us the bad guys. A lot of people also watch the junk that may have manifested to stalk us. We don't get stalked, we do the stalking, and a lot worse. These entities…they claim to inspire terror. WE are the ones who know terror, not them! They inspire as much mockery and laughter as they do fear, if any! It is an insult to the path we walk, and I will not stand for it. So I say this. They want to come after us? They will find we are not the Titans, and we are not a bunch of half-witted teenage wannabes lead by a roboted-up would be cultist who cooked what was left of his brain when he mechanized half of it. We are the bad guys. And if they want a war, they will find out why I once made Death of the Endless herself weep."

"Gah! Sir! You should not speak of an Endless that…" Puppet King said before the Lord kicked him again, sending him flying.

"I will speak of anyone any way I choose. I say what I mean and I mean what I say. I am the Lord of the Night! And Death…she knows what she is, and what I am." The Lord chuckled darkly. "They wanna scare me? I'll show them the REAL definition of a nightmare…!"

The sound was part suction and part cracking as the finger blades exploded from the Lord's chest.

A fine mist of blood splattered on the floor in front of him.

The bar went dead silent. It took a lot to shock villains one and all…but this had done it.

As the Lord stared down at the blades, coated with blood…his blood…he was bleeding…

His eyes flashed with anger.

"…I…am the LORD…OF THE NIGHT…!" The Lord snarled as he reached up and seized the blades. "What I speak of…is not a manifestation…of a love…of excessive hyperbole…!"

And the Lord actually began to SHOVE THE BLADES OUT.

"I am…the darkness…in all hearts…and souls…I am…the future ruler…of this world…!" The Lord hissed as he continued to push. "And I…will not be…shoved off…this coil…in such a manner!"

And the blades were forced out.

And then, with a second, more powerful crunch, shoved back in, as they exploded anew from the Lord's chest.

More blood sprayed on the ground before him.

And with that…the overwhelming fury seemed to fade a bit, as the Lord slumped, just a tad, the fire in his eyes replaced by more of a stunned expression.

"…Heh…heh…oh…the shame…" The Lord whispered. "…Perhaps…I should not have spoken…so ill of Death herself…the Lord…done in by this…pop culture…bullshit…it's almost…to laugh……fuck." The Lord coughed. " 'O lente, lente, currite noctis equi.' "

And the Lord toppled, his sword clattering to the ground. Rendered mortal once more…and paying the price.

As the man behind him drew back his clawed glove with a nasty chuckle, admiring his handiwork.

You didn't have to watch any horror films to know who he was. He'd clawed his way into his own part of cinematic history. Everyone knew who he was.

But the survivor spoke his name.

"Freddy Krueger." Nightwalker said.

"Yes! Ladies and gentlemen, the bastard is BACK!" Freddy Krueger declared with a flourish of his clawed glove. It was him, in the hideously burned flesh. It wasn't the actor Robert Englund in makeup putting on a show. It WAS Freddy Krueger, the child killer turned dreamstalker of Elm Street, given hideous life and power once more. "Welcome to the greatest grand guignol the world has ever seen!"

Killjoy actually beat Slade to the draw as both of them whipped out guns and opened fire.

"ARGH! HEY! I GET 45 SECONDS BEFORE THE ACADEMY PLAYS ME OFF THE STAGE!" Freddy yelled as the bullets tore through his body, even as Nightwalker snapped out of it and added her own orb launcher to the barrage.

It took about nine seconds for all the ammo to click dry.

"Huh, tough crowd." Freddy said, looking down at the mass of gore his body had become, spots of red and green sweater poking through. "That's my favorite shirt!"

And in a blink of an eye, it was all gone. All damage negated, ceasing to exist. Like it had been a dream.

"That's my only shirt." Freddy finished commenting, as he made a slight adjustment to his ever-present fedora, his tone now lower and nastier in edge.

Slade and Killjoy weren't paying attention: they were in the midst of reloading and bringing their guns back up.

"Oh just DROP IT!" Freddy snarled, as he slashed out his clawed hand, and the guns Slade and Killjoy were holding were abruptly slashed apart, the pieces flying away as the two recoiled, holding their hands as open wounds began to bleed. "You pieces of shit talk a big game, but you don't seem to be able to keep up when it comes to action."

"GRARGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!" The White Hole snarled: she admittedly had no idea who Krueger was, but a challenge was a challenge, as she lunged at the legendary slasher…

Freddy sidestepped her so easily he made it look simple. It wasn't. He was cheating, as he whirled and slapped the White Hole across the back of the head. It shouldn't have even fazed her, but somehow the blow made stars explode before her eyes.

"Take a hike, dyke." Krueger snapped, as he grabbed the alien and then hurled her across the bar, as she crashed down onto a pile of overturned tables and chairs. "I didn't come to play my A-game immediately! I got a piss-poor showing the first time and was left off the bill the second time around! Not this time! This time, I'M RUNNING THIS SHOW." Krueger cackled. "You think you're hot shit? You think you're bad? It's time to show you, just like I showed him, who's really to fear in this world."

And then, in a rather abrupt shift in mood, Freddy seemed to notice the Lord's cyborg arm.

"Huh. Nice setup. I have been looking to upgrade for a bit." Freddy said, and with one quick jerk he tore the Lord's cyborg appendage free, along with a fair bit of flesh on his arm. "Now, let me tell you how it's going to go…"

Screaming, the While Hole dove in for an attack again.

Freddy ducked and she flew over his head and crashed through the wall of artifacts. Cheating was so good for making your enemies look like the Keystone Kops.

"You were looking for this?" Freddy said, as she suddenly produced the Orb of Archetypal from behind his back. "Ah, I thought so. Well, tough shit. Movie's just begun. And THIS time, NO ONE'S making it to the final reel! Welcome to my nightmare, bitches! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

And just like that Freddy was gone, vanished into the wind, taking the Orb (and the Lord's arm) with him, leaving only the fading sound of his cruel, harsh laughter.

The villains stared at where he had been. Slade in particular looked at the Lord's body, laid low partly by his own arrogance…and partly by what the chaos magic had spawned into their lives. Hunting them.

And then, in yet another delayed reaction, Handyman screamed and then hid behind Brick. The sound drilled into Slade's ears.

"This…is going to be even more irritating then he said." Slade said.

---

"It's too quiet out there." Nightwalker said as she came back into the bar.

Only a few minutes had passed since the Lord's sudden death and Freddy's declaration, but Nightwalker was amazed at how little had changed. Handyman was still hiding behind Brick while babbling, Sorceress was still in the corner, and the Lord still remained where he had been cut down. Not wanting to be frozen by the same sense of stunned inertia (if she let it overwhelm her, would she ever move again?), Nightwalker had decided to see if the front door still existed, and if it did, if it lead anywhere. It did still exist, and it did still lead out into the alleyway, and the alleyway did still seem to lead out into the street…except Nightwalker had been struck by a disquiet even more profound then her previous one, as she had quickly looked around the alleyway and then retreated back to Moriarty's.

Slade looked over at her: he was the only one who wasn't just standing around. After Freddy had disappeared, he'd sat down and pulled out some kind of small tube, which apparently contained some kind of medicine for his hands, a liquid skin of some sort that he'd sprayed on the several cuts Freddy's attack had left. Attacks which had gone through his metallic mesh armored gloves, which annoyed Slade, but the wounds were only superficial, as he produced a replacement pair from somewhere on his outfit and slipped them over his hands.

"It's usually very quiet out there to begin with." Slade said as he looked at Nightwalker, who pressed a button and disassembled her helmet again, the tech reforming into armor on her shoulders and the back part of her costume from which her twin thin capes sprouted from, made of a light material that gave the impression of wings when Nightwalker jumped through the air. She reached up and undid the knot of hair on the back of her head, letting her red locks flow freely again.

"Yes. But considering what has happened…I was expecting noise. Distant screams, car crashes, any kind of racket that indicates a disruption of the norm…but there's nothing like that. NOTHING. It's like everyone's cowering in their homes…or like we'd been cut off from the rest of the world." Nightwalker said. "And we may very well have been."

"How? You have said nothing about any alterations of our location, so I can assume there have been none. So can it really be said that we have been cut off from the world?" Slade replied, as he flexed his fingers. No pain, no sense of weakness. Good.

"That could change." Nightwalker said.

"Ah yes, you are the only one of us to have actually experienced this phenomenon, as it were. Observing can't really allow understanding." Slade said, as he looked at the young woman. "So tell me Miss Sine, with the Lord's folly still steaming up from his corpse, will you take his place as leader?"

It wasn't quite a deer caught in the headlights, but it was similar enough, the expression that came over Nightwalker's face. Which was unfortunate, as Slade knew she didn't harbor any desires to try and lead this motley crew thrown together by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But Slade preferred more subtle beginning for certain things then outright announcing them (hence why he'd sent the Troika after the Titans as his first move rather then going himself, among other things), and he figured this was better.

"…No sir. No." Nightwalker said, lowering her head. Slade gave the most imperceptible of nods: the young woman was humble and knew her place without a trace of sycophancy. Good. Considering her raw potential, he'd have hated it if she'd instead exhibited the arrogance of youth and tried to assume said youth made her better then him, which would have forced him to take sanctions. As she was though, she allowed him the perfect opening.

"Very well then. As Miss Sine is declining for her own reasons, and the Lord cooling as we speak, and with the rest of you with your powers sealed…"

"SLADE!" The White Hole snapped in a snarling, vicious tone.

"Ah, except for Miss Styles of course. But Miss Styles, I must ask, would you rather attempt to lead, or would you rather wreck havoc and carnage as only you can?"

"You know the answer Wilson."

"Then I ask that you at least consider my words, and I guarantee you, you will get your fill of slaughter."

"I doubt even you can provide that Wilson." The White Hole said, but she didn't challenge him any more.

"With that exception…" Slade said: he would have normally said that POSSIBLE exception but best not to stir up the White Hole any more. "None of you seem to have any more powers."

"AHHHHHHHHH!" The Handyman yelped from behind Brick. Slade jerked, expecting a possible new threat…and then, seeing none, realized that Handyman was just reacting to the problem of those with powers having them sealed. He narrowed his eye slightly, wondering if the rather silly 'villain' had a natural problem with delayed reactions or if he'd simply taken too many blows to the head.

"Are you quite done, Handyman?"

"No! I still have to wake up from this nightmare!"

"My dear friend Tom, while I understand your distress, such actions as you are constantly invoking now, especially with your strange belated reactions to certain things already stated, will hardly help you, let alone anyone." The Brick said (apparently Handyman's real name was Tom).

"…Brick's talkin' normal. I wasn't imagining it. …Too crazy to be a dream." The Handyman said, and finally emerged from behind the massive form of Brick. "So…what's the game plan?"

"I shall tell you idiotic fools…" Came a sudden new voice. New as in it had not spoken for some time.

Psimon had been keeping to himself since the humiliation the Lord had foisted on him, but with the Lord now dead and gone, Psimon saw the perfect time to make his move.

"I have remained silent until now, to decide upon something! For as the White Hole has demonstrated, not all of our powers have been sealed! And mine, while not immune, have been affected far less then the rest of you, and even had they not, even in this state I have more then enough power to command you! So you shall answer to me!"

Everyone stared at Psimon.

"Do not look upon me like dullards! You know very well of my power, and what it can do! So obey me, or have obedience FORCED UPON YOU!"

Slade would have said something then, except he was beaten to the punch.

"The positronic brain of Atlas is beyond your power to command, even if your powers were not disabled! Which you have offered no proof of them not actually being!" Atlas declared.

"So you defy me. Very well! I shall show you! Here is your test, before you are pounded to scrap! Brick! GET ME A DRINK!"

"I hardly feel compelled to do so, especially since you have no intent to pay for it, from the sounds of it." Brick replied.

Silence.

"Dude, BURN!" Adonis declared from where he was.

"Uh…er…" Psimon said, as he sweatdropped. "I thought you were really suggestible."

"This phenomenon has cured me of that." Brick replied.

"Er…yes well…I must….uh…!" Psimon said, searching for the right words.

And then Puppet King, moving more slowly then normal, popped up from behind some rubble, walked over to Psimon, and violently kicked him in the ankle.

"OW!" Psimon yelled, as he began to hop up and down on one leg.

"It worked! He never saw me coming! His powers are as negated as all of us in here! I have saved you all from this doubt!" Puppet King celebrated.

And Psimon stopped hopping to kick Puppet King across the bar again.

"I should have said that somewhere ELLLLLSEEEEE-!"

CRASH!

"Whoo! Distance record!" Rose declared, as Slade gave a sidelong glance to his daughter, who was sitting at a table next to where he was standing. Was it really his daughter that just said that or had Slade misheard…

"Atlas expresses his condolences. That was the least entertaining spectacle that Atlas has ever witnessed. Pathetic." Atlas said.

"Do you wish for me to blast him into the next life Slade-sama?" Kurai asked.

"Hey! I'm warning you! I may have been attempting to bluff, but not fully!" Psimon snapped, pointing. "Do not forget who I am! You know what I've done! My powers may be nearly down to nothing, but my years of training in them have not lessened in the least! And it does not take much force to pinch shut certain veins in cerebral matter! Unlike the now 'dearly departed' Lord, I know you have a mind susceptible to that Wilson!"

"As you say Jones. Listen, there is no need to fight amongst ourselves. Isn't that what always happens?" Slade said.

"Plus, the atmosphere will be in play. It will be working on us, trying to forcibly alter us, how we think, how we act. To kill us." Nightwalker added. She did not say to Slade that his daughter seemed to have already fallen prey to a huge dose of that atmosphere. If she didn't know Rose Wilson, she could have sworn the girl was a…bimbo.

"Thank you Miss Sine. As you see, Jones, we are all in the same boat here. Yet you wish to argue over who should lead. Now, I'm not going to ask WHY you think you should lead, because I already known the answer. So, your powers are not sealed?"

"You know the answer Wilson. They are still useable, even reduced in range and scope."

"Do you know of a method to undo this problem immediately?" Slade asked.

"Sadly, no. This sort of thing is beyond even my vast experience." Psimon said, as he crossed his arms and did his best to look arrogantly bored.

"So you can't aid us in our problem."

"That doesn't matter. Aiding others is what our enemies do. You forget the rules Slade, even in this strange state. We do whatever works best for us."

"And that, of course, would be all of us under your command." Slade said. "Even with the powers in this room sealed."

"Which...shouldn't have happened." Came another new voice, and Slade looked over to see the Sorceress, having somehow gotten to her feet. But her ability to walk was clearly low, and Slade didn't think it was just because of the long robe she was wearing. The Sorceress floated everywhere, hovering on her power. Said power that was now gone. Slade wouldn't be surprised if her leg muscles had atrophied, as the Sorceress stumbled and had to grab onto a chair to keep from falling, as she managed to set herself down on it.

"What, Ithlian?" Slade asked.

"The Orb was…on the wall…triggered this…because the Lord had to replace the original part of the mesh we'd set up. The Seal of Vioxx. Same basic principles of the Orb…but the Seal had been carefully charmed with a large variety of spells to make sure it would only affect certain others. The Lord stuck the Orb of Archetypal on the wall and left it there before I could put anything similar on it. Hence this…abomination." The Sorceress said. "But the whole reason the Seal was taken down…was because it had been damaged in the gunfight that happened in here."

Silence. Slade turned back to Psimon.

"Yes, that interesting incident. Which, if I recall, the Lord insinuated you started with your mental powers, using them to manipulate those fools right into their early graves. For your own amusement, if I recall." Slade said.

"Um, er, I wanted to see how things played out." Psimon said…and then lifted a hand. "Hold it! I'm watching you Slade! I WILL act if necessary."

"Oh no need Psimon. Surely you or anyone else had no idea what your actions would lead to…except the possibility that we could have been harmed by said actions."

"I plead the fift-"

BLAM!

Psimon's sarcastic reply was abruptly cut off by the boom of the gunshot, as it reverberated through the bar. No one had actually seen Slade make his move, as he'd snatched his arm down, seized the gun on his daughter's leg holster, drawn it, and fired. Who cared what that Orb had supposedly done? He was still Deathstroke the Terminator.

Something Psimon should have known from the beginning, as a thin trailer of liquid began trickling out from the large hole that had appeared in his plastic forehead, as he slowly fell over with a thud, not rising again. In normal situations Psimon's immense mental powers would have still been able to block the bullet, despite Slade's insane reflexes. Said lack of normalcy was why The Lord's body was cooling on the ground next to its new co-occupant.

"Judge Colt and his Jury of Six have no need of a constitution." Slade said dryly, as he spun the gun's barrel into his hand and gave it back to hi daughter. "Reload that Rose."

"Ok!" Rose replied, as Slade started turning away…and then stopped. Ok? She'd said ok? She should have said yes sir, or yes father, no…Slade's secondary glance at her showed she was indeed reloading her gun, her fingers having lost none of their skill. Just what was this strangeness he couldn't nail down though? He would have to figure that out.

"Now…I'd rather get to solving this problem. So if anyone wants to leave, feel free too. But considering what Miss Sine had said, it does not sound like a situation where going alone will be in your best interest."

Slade did hope one or two would leave. Jack, definitely, and Atlas would probably be troublesome as well. In the end, no one did leave. Slade guessed he'd have to take the bad with the good here, or in this case, the psycho-sadist bad and the megalomaniac bad along with the more malleable bads.

"Very well then. I must think of this situation a bit. Until then, one would assume, drinks are on the house." Slade said. "Styles, I must make a request. Behind that bar, you should locate a shotgun. It belongs to me. I was wondering if you could lower yourself to find it and give it to me." Slade said. He would have told Adonis to do it, except he was handing out liquor bottles…and giving some people high-fives. That was rather inappropriate, and strange. So he asked the White Hole.

"Don't push me Slade. I can always strike out on my own, or just settle for butchering you and yours. Blood is blood." The White Hole replied, but she did look briefly behind the bar, and she did find the shotgun. True, she threw it at him, but Slade wasn't expecting much else.

"Well Miss Styles, if you do, a piece of friendly advice. You may not wish to do so in those clothes."

"Wha…" The White Hole said, as she looked down at her waitress outfit, which consisted of a mini skirt, a tight shirt with a military cravat, and an apron that said Moriarty's, as well as thigh high tights and special shoes for her clawed feet (one must note that the Lord's other 'employees' did wear a uniform as well, but Punk Rocket was dead, Puppet King has discarded his, and Adonis didn't wear one due to his robot suit). It wasn't exactly the most concealing outfit…and that was before Freddy had tossed her through the wall and shredded it. In fact, she was showing considerably more skin then she cared to (even if she really didn't care on another level, she'd gladly fight naked if she had to…but she didn't). With an annoyed snarl, she stomped off into the back, assumingly to change.

"Why the Lord employed her, I am at a loss." Slade said to himself, as he did a quick check over the high tech weapon to make sure it was still in full working order (it was), and then sat down next to the Sorceress at her 'table'. "I was under the impression you were a babbling wreck."

"I got over it." The Sorceress muttered. "This whole mess is all the Lord's fault anyway. He was always too arrogant for his own good."

"Yes, I know."

"However, he was mostly right in his theories. The Orb was powerful, especially with the other artifacts it was linked to…but we are not the Titans. Our powers have not been fully sealed, most likely due to the fact there was too much power in the room to seal. Maybe if it had just been the Lord and…myself…" The Sorceress semi-hissed the last word. "It might have been able to pull it off. But with all the other power in the room, it was forced to spread itself too thin. So while it managed to seal all our powers…and just a note, the White Hole's powers have been sealed too. But she would never admit any kind of weakness, even if it exists."

"Not surprised."

"While our powers were sealed, the Lord was right: the seal was incomplete. How do you feel Wilson?"

"Perfectly fine. Perhaps a bit older then usual, but fine nonetheless."

"I suppose that's to be expected. The Orb was designed in such a way to seal more elaborate powers anyway. I barely feel like I could muster a twentieth of my usual strength. Then again, I was standing right next to it, and that seemed to be a factor, as the Lord is dead now. But the seal may not only be stretched too thin. It might be leaking as well."

"Leaking?"

"Picture, if you will, a cork glued into the end of a pipe. Now run water through the pipe. The pipe will start leaking, and if the cork can't be removed, eventually burst. I think the Orb's seal on our powers, due to the amount, is similar."

"So you're saying eventually our powers will come back by themselves."

"Yes…I think they may have started restoring themselves already…but I have no idea what the rate of it is. It could take a few hours…days, who knows, and it might not come back in full. The only way to fully restore our abilities, from your enhanced body to my ultimate skills in magic…is to find and smash the Orb. Which is, of course, why Freddy Krueger took it." The Sorceress said.

"So what are you planning to do?"

"Me? Slade, if there was something I could do, I would have taken the reins by now. But as it stands, I can barely muster enough energy to kept my form from falling apart. You, I guess, are in charge. What do YOU plan to do?"

"Our abilities could be restored by smashing the Orb…what about this other problem?"

"You mean the chaos magic unleashing creatures from fiction? Oh, that will be considerably harder…but as you remember last year, the required method seems to find the 'key tape', ie whatever was first touched by the power eruption. But unlike the last few times where the source came from on site, in this case it could be anywhere. Maybe if I had some more power I could track it…but I just went over why I can't."

"Hmmmm. Very well." Slade said, as he crossed his fingers over the lower half of his mask. "I will give this some thought."

And Slade did just that. Sorceress glanced around the bar, and for a moment her teeth went back on edge. Nearly helpless, and in with this group. This was why she had never derided companionship as weakness, though she never cared for it herself. Having fellows in a situation like this would be very helpful…except she'd never expected to need them. She was the Sorceress, and she barely tolerated working alongside the Lord. And even if she'd been different, this was the whole wrong moral side to find helpers. But she'd never thought such a factor would count for her…then again she'd never expected for her awakening to turn out the way it had either, the way that had landed her in this bar in the first place.

And so she looked back at Slade…and noticed something.

It wasn't so much an expression as it was an aura of sorts, faint but perceptible to even her current (nearly non-existent) level of power. And it bothered Sorceress.

Slade had a brilliant mind, even she'd admit that…but she could clearly see he was going about this the wrong way. By the wrong way, Slade was approaching this as if it was just another threat to his life. Looking at Freddy Krueger just as another challenge.

That was not the proper way to think. You not only had to consider the threat. You had to consider the absurd NATURE of the threat. You needed to accept that the rules you had played by just didn't work any more. You had to look through the world at a brand new angle, and not even fighting teenage heroes and being virtually immortal helped form it. Perhaps if in this world's timeline Slade Wilson had become the pawn of Trigon as he had in another, more well known source he would have been better prepared, but many things had happened differently in this world, and Slade had never had that experience here.

For lack of a better term, Slade was simply too…MATURE to properly understand what was happening.

And that could cost him dearly, Sorceress knew. Because she'd seen how the chaos magic had forced its way onto reality and perception. And for all Slade's greater skills, his mindset was far more rigid then the average teenager. And if this 'atmosphere' applied force to it, unlike the minds of the young before, who all had a certain flexibility, that certain 'immaturity'…

Sorceress wondered what would happen when it did dawn on Slade's mind, by realization or force. Would it mean his death? Or something else?

Even if she had her powers, the Sorceress wouldn't have known.

But she did not warn Slade. She knew there was no point. He would not understand.

And who knew what would be left when he did.

"Hey! You're…pink!" Adonis declared, as he came to Doctor Westminster. The Doctor stared at the man in the robot suit. He knew his bone armor was gone, but there was a certain something in Adonis' tone that made his comment more then an observation. Westminster wasn't sure he liked it, but he decided to keep quiet for the moment. With his powers as low as they were, he wouldn't have much of a chance against the robotically empowered bartender.

"…Yes…yes." Westminster said, as he made a minute adjustment to his hat.

"Cool! Wanna drink?"

"No. Considering the current situation, I believe it would be more detrimental then helpful."

"Uh….what?"

"…No. Thank you." Westminster said, and sipped his water. Adonis moved on, and Westminster wondered if the power blocker, unable to take anything in metahuman terms from Adonis, had taken something in mental terms instead.

As Adonis went over to where Blackfire was sitting and set down a glass in front of her. Blackfire stared for a moment, then picked up the drink and sipped it…and spat it out.

"Hey! IDIOT!" Blackfire yelled.

"Huh?"

"I ordered a B&T! This is a B&B you moron! Are you so fucking brain-dead you can't even tell letters of your alphabet apart?"

"…Huh?" Adonis said again.

"Oh dort, this is why I don't come to these piece of shit earth bars. Even when they're being staffed by aliens they're crappy, and when we have humans oh man, look out, we can make our planet a universal centerpiece but we can't mix a drink right! Then again that just might be you fuckface! Were you born this stupid, or did your mom drop you on your head and then stamp on it? Or did you have to work on it! I've seen some shitty service, but this is up to my eyeballs in it! Just like every other piece of garbage thing about this bar, and the people who come here! You zargta sapiens!"

"Uh…?" Adonis said, still confused.

"You fuckers messed everything up! I was fine until I came onto this planet! I knew myself! I was pure! And then you humans, you poisoned me, you introduced all your confusions and your ambiguities into my emotions, you took what I knew and you made it a mess…you brought me down…I had the powers of X'hal herself and you HUMANS beat me by talking…I lost it all…I didn't know what to do…well no more! I know who I am, and quite frankly, you don't deserve to serve me you piece of Klorb!"

Adonis seemed to have finally gotten over his mental confusion, as he stared with somewhat offended eyes at the snapping alien.

"Well you can always leave bi…lackfire." Adonis caught himself. Blackfire's eyes blazed.

"Don't you tell me what to do you fucking peon!" Blackfire snapped, and thrust out her hand.

A slightly larger spray of purple sparks emerged. Adonis chuckled.

Then Blackfire's brandy snifter shattered against his head, and Adonis stumbled back.

"I'll leave when I'm damn well ready, and that won't be until you make my fucking drink you clorbag varblernelk!" Blackfire yelled as she grabbed a nearby bottle of alcohol and slung it at Adonis. It didn't hit him in the head this time, but the spray of shattered glass and liquor caused him to stumble back and fall down.

"And that's why they're only good for killin', ya wanker." Jack commented as he drank from the bottle of scotch he'd obtained. Westminster, on the other hand, was keeping a carefully guarded eye on Blackfire, puzzling over her attitude change and if she even realized the situation she was in. Didn't seem to.

"So Johnny, I guess there are advantages to not having 'real' powers, aren't there?" Mad Mod commented. Good thing his youth stealing cane was based on custom designed high tech, or he'd be an old man again, not that he minded being old at times, but in a situation like this it was decidedly inconvenient.

"Guess so Moddie." Johnny Rancid replied, and looked at Melchior, whose paper body was now sagging and disheveled. "Hey man, you don't seem as perky as you were before."

"Oh shut up. You heard the darkling before he was killed. Magic is how my consciousness exists in this realm. I can barely hold my body together without you making snide remarks about it. Merlin help me if I lose what little concentration I have."

"So, like I said, there are certain advantages." Mad Mod said.

"May I just point out…" Brick said as he stepped near the table. "The fact that lacking powers just means you did not have them severely negated. Which makes you just as vulnerable to the upcoming attacks. Except maybe Atlas…."

"Because Atlas is the Mightiest, The Best, and should be worshipped as a GOD!" Atlas boomed.

"Yeah yeah mate. We're busy now. Try again next Tuesday." Jack called from the bar, and Atlas got up and stomped over to argue with him.

"…Yes Brick…" Mad Mod said, still not used to talking to the giant like he had any sort of brain in his head. "But we're USED to no powers. It won't hurt us any."

"Ah. So I assume you have a full compliment of robots and gear ready to aid in your defense against these monsters which are supposedly coming?"

"You kidding? I'm on the last dregs of my current charge and without that I'm an old man. All Johnny's got is a couple of little guns and I can suck one of our attackers and take out their youth. And smack them on the 'ed. That's about all."

"Well then my friends, you may wish to rethink your opinion of no powers not hurting you any. While I am weakened enough so that my mind is clear again, my strength is still many times that of a mortal man. I can defend myself as best I can. Can you?"

"…I liked you better before you became the Logic Police." Rancid commented.

"Yeah, really, is there anyone else we can talk to? Where did Mumbo get off to?" Mad Mod said. "'Ell, even Control Freak would be better. Have we found a body yet?"

"We have not yet located him. Perhaps he is concealed under some rubble, still unconscious or dead. Or perhaps the eruption of power vaporized him. I do wish I had more data." Brick commented. Mad Mod stared, still unable to comprehend Brick with a brain, while Adonis broke up the fight between Jack and Atlas.

The Handyman had made his way back to the bar, and he'd almost spoken with Nightwalker, but she seemed to be in a thoughtful state, so he'd made his way over to Kurai and Rose. Rose was drinking, and Kurai was watching her with a confused alertness, as if he was still trying to puzzle something out.

"So…horror movie villains! Coming to life! And you guys with no powers! Hah! Whoda thunk…" Was all Handyman got out before Kurai seized him by the shirt.

"Do not even BEGIN to think my given gifts defines me as a warrior, or I swear you ignorant dog I will strike you dead where you stand?"

"…Can I have a lifeline?" Handyman squeaked, and Kurai let him go. Handyman ran off.

"That was mean. You're a mean boy." Rose commented, causing Kurai to look at her in a sidelong glance again. His master was still thinking, and Rose was…what? Had she suffered head trauma?

"As for this situation, actually, it's exactly like that comedy I saw last year. Ringu. Evil things coming out of the TV? Perfectly understandable."

Nearby, Nightwalker stared.

"Uh…Ringu was not a comedy." The redhead pointed out.

"I don't know what movie YOU were watching. I thought it was hilarious." Kurai replied.

"Ahah!" Rose declared, for a moment sounding a bit more like herself. "So it isn't just the cultural barriers! You're just a sick freak all on your own!"

"Sick freak? It's everyone else who takes these things too seriously!" Kurai protested.

"And by your example you don't?" Nightwalker asked.

"A slight against my honor, eh!" Kurai declared as he spun back to Nightwalker, who looked mildly surprised and then not so much, considering what she'd seen of Kurai. "I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!"

"No you don't apprentice." Slade said from his table. "We don't need to be wasting energy on such things."

"As you wish, Slade-sama…"

"Actually, I'd rather accept." Nightwalker said as she got off her stool. "I know you still have energy abilities as reduced as they may be Kurai, but I still say…hey wait, is that Gauntlet over there?"

"WHERE? I'LL ATOMIZE HIM!" Kurai yelled, as he leapt off the stool.

As Nightwalker fired an orb right into his testicles and then followed it up by firing the remaining three orbs in her clip into his forehead. The Japanese warrior went down like a ton of bricks.

"This is why I don't hold grudges." Nightwalker said as she reloaded.

"…You're a mean lady." Kurai squeaked from where he was holding his badly aching privates.

"And don't you forget it." Nightwalker replied.

A hand then came between the black-clad female and the spiky-haired Japanese. Slade's hand.

"And that is the end of that." Slade said, though Nightwalker could have sworn she saw a glimpse of approval in Slade's eye. Only a brief glimpse though. "I have decided on what to do. Apprentice, if you are anywhere near the person I trained, you should be just about recovered."

"Hai Slade-sama! I have shaken it off easily!" Kurai said, back to his feet, though his leg stance showed to Nightwalker his balance wasn't as firm as it would normally be.

"Very well. Take another moment anyway. Then I want you to go with Rose into the back of this bar. I have a crate of weapons that the now-gone owner of this place had set aside for me. I want you to go retrieve them. Stay frosty at all times, even when you think there is no trouble. I would go myself, but I believe it would be better if I kept my eye on the rest of our…fellows." Slade said. "I mean it. Watch each other's back."

"Yes master!"

"Aye-firmative." Rose said, as she saluted her father. Slade gave his daughter a look of cold puzzlement. She just gave him a little nod in return. Something is not right with my daughter…

"The other task may be more difficult, possibly even life-threatening. I suppose for the sake of fairness I should give you a chance to turn it down." Slade said as he turned towards Nightwalker.

"...I did not believe fairness was part of this business."

"Good answer Miss Sine. The weapons I have asked my apprentices to retrieve are fairly numerous, but they can only outfit myself and perhaps two others well, and they are specially designed for me. Due to the lack of natural talent that is afflicting this bar, firearms for all would probably increase of chances of getting through this mess…those who would listen, anyway." Slade said. "Unfortunately, it is not located near this location, but at another warehouse several blocks away. Hence why I ask you, as you are the only one with experience in these matters, and the tricks that can be played. I have composed a list of how to get there and which supplies would be most useful, but you must make it there and back. Will you take on this task?"

"…I will, Mr. Wilson, but I don't know how I'm going to…"

"You will not be going alone. You will need a companion with strength to transport the weapons back. I would request Brick, but I believe his great bulk and lack of speed would be considerable detriments to the possible threats you could face. It would be far better if you could be accompanied by someone who is also swift on their feet and in their mind…"

"You want me to go with the White Hole." Nightwalker said in an even tone, with a faint trace of nervousness under it.

"It would be the most optimal choice. I suppose if she will not cooperate, Brick will have to serve…but I believe she will if the request is worded properly. I also believe you know what I am talking about."

"Yes sir." Nightwalker said. "I will go…speak with her immediately."

"You do that, but do not waste too much time pursuing the issue if she is bullheaded over it. For the sake of time…and your own." Slade said.

Nightwalker said nothing, instead turning around and going off, but Slade noticed she was removing the clip of orb ammo she had inserted before and putting a new one in. A cautious girl. It would be a shame if she did not return. Which was a possibility.

"Ravager. Kurai. Go as well. Be as quick as you can." Slade said, and as his two apprentices headed off to another hallway leading off from the bar Slade loudly rapped on a table to get the villain's attention. "I have decided on a plan of action. Anyone who would not want to go along with it, I shall repeat myself once more and not again. Leave now." Slade said. No one left, but Slade was still light years away from trusting anyone at the bar. Their 'kind' did not form teams well. Ironically, the only one Slade was certain of was the silent Killjoy: he would have gotten up and left long ago if he wanted nothing to do with this. For all his lack of speaking, he could communicate just fine if one knew how to listen. For now he sat at his table, staring off into space, or so it seemed. He was in thought himself, and ready for any trouble.

"I have just sent two teams of two on missions of importance. They will be returning with weapons and ammo for us, let us hope swiftly. Outside of them, no one else is to leave this room without giving me some kind of verbal cue. Otherwise I will shoot you as you return. No exceptions." Slade said, as he lifted his custom shotgun. "Once we acquire the weapons, we will discuss this some more. Though I must say, this bar is a mess. If we are attacked, I do not want to think of the problems of us tripping over fallen furniture and other problems with debris. Just something to consider to pass the time." Slade said, as he said down, his shotgun close. A few of the villains took his hint and began cleaning up the bar again, probably more for something to do then any real desire to help.
Sorceress looked at Slade. He looked at confident as he could under the circumstances. Which meant he still didn't fully grasp it.

Learning was going to come hard to him. It always did to his breed.

"Hey guys, while we wait, let's play a game." Handyman said. "Every time somebody does something horribly stupid, we take a shot. Deal?"

"Eh, why not." Dr. Light said.

"Don't have much else to do, sure…" Torque said as Kurai and Ravager walked past them to get to their hallway door.

"Hey Kurai, I know! Let's split up to cover more ground and save time!" Rose suggested as they walked past.

The villains stared, and then Torque began pouring a shot.

"…well I wasn't saving this liver for anything important anyway…"

---

The nerves in her stomach were down to a few twitters by the time Nightwalker found what she assumed was the White Hole's room. She tried to keep it off her expression. Creatures like the White Hole not only could smell fear, but also get a killing desire from it, as she knocked on the door.

"White Hole?"

No answer. Nightwalker waited a few seconds. This WAS her room, right? And she didn't want to stand around waiting. She knew they were on a ticking clock.

"White Hole?" Nightwalker said, as she knocked on the door, even as she began turning the knob to open it. "White Hole are you still in…" Nightwalker said as she opened the door and walked in.

She did not find the White Hole dead, but it wasn't all wine and roses either. The alien stood across the room, having stopped in mid-motion as Nightwalker had walked in. And said mid-motion was the alien putting on a shirt. And whether by culture or personal preference, she was not wearing any form of undergarments.

At least she had pants on, but that didn't much lessen the awkwardness.

"…Oh." Nightwalker said, as the White Hole stared back at her, her shirt still held above her head, her arms just about to slip through it.

"Slade paired me to work with you." Nightwalker said as she quickly came in and closed the door. "We have to be going, quickly."

"Oh, really." The White Hole said, as she slipped the shirt off and lowered it in front of her. "Why?"

"You're strong, and fast, and we both know you want to raise some hell. I think this will be a very good opportunity to do so." Nightwalker said. She did not advert her eyes: the White Hole might read it as weakness. Besides, the White Hole was humanoid enough, she didn't have anything Nightwalker didn't have.

"Really." The White Hole repeated, as she looked at Nightwalker, not yet putting her shirt back on.

"Yes. Trust me when I say trouble's coming. And you love it. Or so I've heard." Nightwalker said. "Are you close to finishing?"

"Nearly, but was this item so important you had to walk in on me half naked?" The White Hole commented.

"Does it matter?" Nightwalker said, not wanting to get into an argument. "We have to move swiftly."

"I'm not blind or stupid." The White Hole said, as she gave her a baleful glance.

"No. But the longer this effect is out, the stronger it gets. I've seen this firsthand, and I want to do what's needed while it's still as weak as possible."

"Hmphm." The White Hole said, as she started putting her shirt back on.

For the life of her, Nightwalker never knew why she kept talking, especially along the route she chose.

"You disagree?" Nightwalker asked.

"I dislike the tone." The White Hole replied, stopping again in mid-dress. Nightwalker was starting to get annoyed by this peep show. True, they were actually fairly nice (that was the advantage of being cloned after death: unsightly scars and mutilations could be removed), especially considering the alien was a mass of bodybuilder-esque muscle rather then a supermodel stick. But Nightwalker wasn't here for that. This was business.

"Look White Hole, we don't have time to argue. Get dressed so we can go."

The growl that escaped from the White Hole's lips would have frozen the blood of many beings. It sent a chill down Nightwalker's spine.

"You're ordering me?" The White Hole snapped.

Back down or stand fast? Nightwalker took half a second to ponder her options.

"Well, considering all I hear about you is you're a razor line away from a rabid animal while I am, to date, not, maybe it would work better for now if one relied on rational thought…"

She knew the White Hole had speed, but even prepared Nightwalker was caught completely off guard as the alien dashed across the room, seized Nightwalker in one cruelly clawed hand, and then slammed her against the wall with a vicious snarl.

(Though in a tiny part of Nightwalker's brain, she noted that despite such strength and impact, and the sharpness of the metal fused over the alien's hand, the edge only bit into the very outer edge of Nightwalker's neck. Now THAT was fine control. Oh, and she was still topless, just to add a touch of sexual absurdity to this whole mess).

"Rational thought?" The White Hole snarled, as Nightwalker looked into eyes (well, an eye) surging with savage violence, a ferocity that had rent the populations of worlds apart. "What good is that when you have to make decisions based on instinct?"

"GACKKKKKKKKKK!" Was all Nightwalker could gasp out, as the hand tightened, strangling her and slicing her throat all in one motion…

"Don't you DARE presume you can order me on that justification!" The White Hole snapped. "NO ONE ORDERS ME!"

Yet, even as the White Hole spat her words in her face, she loosened her grip, just a touch…enough for Nightwalker to speak, anyway.

"So…you prove them right then?" Nightwalker gasped, and then gagged, trying to suck air into her lungs.

"…What?" The White Hole replied. Nightwalker wasn't sure if she could get more words out, but she'd damn sure not die with a whimper if that was to happen.

"They claim you're just…some mindless beast…and here you are…showing the truth…in what they say!" Nightwalker choked out.

"Why should I care what they are thinking? Mad ramblings of zealots and cowards!" The White Hole retorted.

"Then why are you…proving them right?"

And the grip slackened a bit more, as the White Hole looked genuinely confused. Nightwalker figured she had nothing to lose and pressed her advantage.

"You claim you don't care…which means they shouldn't know you…but from how you act…they seem to know you…far too well."

The White Hole growled again…but she turned away, just a little, as if pondering Nightwalker's words, though one arm still held her by the throat…

But it was enough for Nightwalker, as she lifted her right arm up around the White Hole's and jammed the tube of her gauntlet right into the White Hole's ear.

A faint hint of surprise passed over the White Hole's features, but it was swift and nearly nothing to begin with. Nightwalker ignored that. She couldn't consider the implications anyway.

"Now…please put me down." Nightwalker said, able to talk somewhat normally again. The White Hole did not re-tighten her grip, but the look on her face was no longer one of outright fury, but rather the vicious amusement she had shown moments before she'd skinned Ski Mask 2 alive.

"And just what do think that will do?" The White Hole asked chillingly.

"I think it will do plenty, even if you gut or decapitate me on the spot. It's a hair trigger, and before I die I KNOW I'll have enough wherewithal to pull it and give your brain an acid bath. That's fluoro-antimonic acid. 20 quadrillion times the disintegrating power of sulfuric acid. I'm sure even that would inconvenience you!" Nightwalker rasped. "So here's what we say we do. You put me down, I remove my arm, and we try to work together to survive instead of pointlessly trying to maim and/or kill each other. We already more likely then not have plenty of outside forces wanting that. So?"

"So? This threat might have meaning if I knew what sulfuric acid was. For all I know that's the chemical formula for table salt in there."

"I do not bluff alien! This stuff WILL kill you: your brain does not share the toughness of your hide!"

"Well then…perhaps I should see if you can live up to your promise then?" The White Hole said, with a cruel fanged smile.

"You first." Nightwalker retorted.

Silence.

And then the White Hole dropped Nightwalker, and despite being ready she still lost her perfect aim, leaving the White Hole to rip her arm off if she so chose. But she did not. Instead, she laughed.

"Low and behold fool." The White Hole said, though Nightwalker couldn't quite understand if that fit. "I'll let you live, if only to show you how lucky you happened to be. The promise of carnage has left me in a good mood."

"Good mood…" Nightwalker coughed, rubbing her raw, slightly bloody throat. "You're not exactly jovial in my viewpoint."

"No, but I am still in a better mood than what I would be." The White Hole said. Nightwalker swallowed and lowered her hand from her throat.

"I won't deem to try to give you orders, but I don't like the idea you have no care for my well being. At the least, that's at a tactical disadvantage to you."

"On the contrary, that little stunt had gained you a few…human term…scout points?"

"Brownie points."

"Right." The While Hole said. "Fair enough…"

The alien then seemed to realize she had left her shirt behind, and then finally seemed to realize the state she'd been in during her whole strangling of Nightwalker, as she looked down on her bare chest.

"Oh…er…" The White Hole said, as she turned away, as Nightwalker stared in surprise. That was certainly an odd time for modesty to kick in, as the While Hole went back over to her fallen shirt. "I suppose you are not all boast. Do you have a plan?"

"Slade gave me details and instructions. We go where he wants, grab what he wants, and come back as soon as possible, hoping reality doesn't go tits up on us and we step through a door and suddenly find ourselves in the Temple of Doom."

"I'm sure we will be able to muster against anything." The White Hole said as she finally got her shirt on. With that overdue task done, she began putting on the rest of her battle attire.

"Are you still strong enough to use your weapons?" Nightwalker asked. The White Hole stopped and glared again, and Nightwalker had no desire to get pinned to a wall once more, so she kept talking. "Look, all of us have been affected. I don't feel like my old self and neither does anyone else. Why are you the only exception? The Lord and the Sorceress could both make you explode with a glance, and they were affected. Bluff to the crowd all you want, you probably have a need to…but to me, just answer truthfully, for both our sakes."

"And why should I do so?" The White Hole, as she continued to put on her armor.

"So I don't overestimate your abilities and get you or myself killed." Nightwalker replied.

"Hmphm." The White Hole muttered again. "You'll be underestimating them, I'm sure…but to be honest I have been affected. A LITTLE." The White Hole said, as she finished putting on her armor. Finally looking at it fully, Nightwalker took in the details. There was a Demi-Gorget with a heavy shoulder pad on her right side: the gorget sat on her collarbone and went up to a form-fitting neck and chin guard. Body armor fitted and ended above the stomach line, allowing a white jacket to flow from under it into an almost classic 'tails' setup. Heavy vambraces covered each arm, with minor folded Blacktrinian weapons placed on them as if for show. Tight leather trousers covered the White Hole's large, well-formed muscles as thick, metallic plates covered her shins and the tops of her feet like braces and spats all rolled into one. As well as the tails, a thick white cape rolled down her back, and on a nearby table sat a white hat, not too similar from the hat the Titan Scalpel, aka Nigel Hastings wore. The whole outfit was a glossy, shiny white, though the grazing, gashes, marks, and scars on the armor showed its age and the true purpose it projected, that of a walking Blacktrinian tank.

She was no sidelines player, that was for sure.

…And she had a rather nice contrast to Nightwalker's black ensemble, though that thought only briefly flitted through the redhead's mind.

"I can still use some weapons." The White Hole finished.

"How good are you with them?"

The White Hole leaned down, opened a chest, and produced a mace so large and nasty Nightwalker knew it could smash her into hamburger with one swing. One one-armed swing. And despite her lessened powers, the alien still handled the giant bludgeon like it weighed nothing. How strong WAS the White Hole? Strong enough to earn her reputation it seemed.

"Very good." The White Hole replied.

"Good." Nightwalker echoed. "Now just don't overestimate yourself."

"And don't you underestimate me." The White Hole replied.

"I don't underestimate anybody."

"Heh." The While Hole said, as she laid the mace against one shoulder and picked up her hat, as she placed it on her head. "Good enough."

Terror incarnate was ready.

---

That opinion was not shared by everybody.

"Terror incarnate? My blistered ass." Freddy chuckled to himself as he watched the two females walk down the hallway. He'd been keeping an eye on them as well as the bar and the other two Slade had sent off, and he would have enjoyed himself more if he didn't like his women not to look like they were the winners of the Miss Human Growth Hormone pageant.

Freddy chuckled again and reclined briefly on the twisted throne of bones, blades, and blood that he sat on, in an indistinguishable area covered in black, the literal heart of darkness of the holocaust he was about to unleash. Third time was the charm, and they had one hell of a head start. Freddy'd proven it by swiftly icing that yakking supposed shadow-god. In the end, his muscles and heart gave just as easy as the rest's.

His…assistants were there too, around him. He'd handpicked them, but at the moment he didn't much care to hear them talking, so they didn't. He was in charge, after all.

Perhaps one would wonder why Freddy would need assistants. Couldn't he easily handle this all by himself? The truth was, he could. But this wasn't a group of teenagers, even if those teenagers were metahumans and 'heroes' (or metahumans at least). These were the 'bad guys', the supposed elite of this world…Freddy could give a pinch of dog shit about how bad they were. They didn't deserve him, him and his art. No, he would stay here up on his throne and he'd have others do the job. If they had any worth at all, some would survive, and maybe he'd grace them with his presence again. After all, they would surely come after him again. Maybe their powers weren't fully sealed, and were slowly restoring themselves…but that didn't matter. Even if they got back their hands, they'd never beat the cards hidden up Freddy's sleeves.

And so Freddy rolled his fingers, the claws on his glove making small clinking noises as they sliced the air, as Freddy watched the pair of females rejoin the bar, speak briefly to the one called Slade again, and then make another quick detour. The redhead had retrieved a briefcase, one loaded to the brim with her choice of weapon's ammo, as she began arming herself. A personal weapon system. Freddy'd never seen that in the real world…but it didn't matter.

He was in charge. He knew how this movie ended. All he had to do was fill in the cast and the scenes.

Oh yeah, this would be a fucking blast. It didn't quite beat dream killing…but they didn't deserve such a grand way to go. No. They were small, and deserved to die small.

He took one last look at Nightwalker as she left the bar with the alien. Hot stuff. The kind of girl Freddy'd love to have his way with. Maybe he yet would…in fact, he already had a few ideas. After all…she'd escaped once before. She should have known not to sign up for a sequel.

Yeah, she was one hot piece of ass. Definitely fun.

(And also the type that tended to best Freddy at the end of his bloody crusades, but Freddy wasn't about to think a thought like THAT. It was anathema to Mr. Krueger…kind of like mentioning a certain dead machete-wielder).

But he'd start up her part of the game in a moment. The more immediate targets awaited him in the bar.

And he had a perfect way to introduce them to their new nightmare.

"You know what they say…bad things come in small packages!" Freddy cackled, as he literally typed on the air…as his screen briefly transmuted into a computer of sorts, much like the kind a screenwriter might toil over to produce a script. No better way to start the terror.

That settled the bar. Now for the other two, wandering the hallways. Freddy already knew what was going to happen. And it demanded a certain response. Had to love the classics, even if they were all inferior to him, as Freddy waved the screen aside and pointed to the summoned figure in the darkness.

"You know what to do! So do what you do worst!"

The figure in the black made no indication that he'd understood. He just turned and vanished into the black, leaving only one faint whispered word.

"…Sweet…"

Freddy leaned back on this throne again. It was good to be king.

---

It was oddly quiet in the villain's cafe now. Even the conversation had died down to whispered murmurs, the only real noise being the sound of Brick, Puppet King, and Handyman moving away the wreckage from the chaos magic eruption. And even that seemed muted, somehow.

Like someone was trying to set up an atmosphere, Slade noted. How droll.

Those who weren't talking or working were drinking (Jack seemed to have regained enough use of his energy hands to hold a bottle). Killjoy was ever silent and watchful again. Sorceress seemed to be in a meditative state, trying to muster what power she could. And Slade was…what was he doing anyway?

Slade's eye narrowed. His mind did not wander. It was too advanced and well honed to wander.

And yet…

Slade cast a glance at the shotgun next to him. The basic ammo stored in his suit's setup was about ten shells, six normal and four special ones. If there was trouble that should be more then enough. He'd been in war. He was the ultimate soldier. He could handle anything this strange night decided to throw at him and come out smelling like a rose.

Speaking of roses, what had happened to his daughter? He'd been mentally occupied, but he'd noticed she wasn't quite herself. He needed more information. And even if something was off, she was sill the Ravager. If she couldn't shove off whatever strange track she had stepped on for the moment when it counted, then she was worthless to him. Perhaps some would find that cold, but Slade Wilson…

"Amelia." The Sorceress suddenly said. Slade turned his head.

"Amelia?" He repeated. "Who is Amelia?"

"I…don't know." The Sorceress said, confused. "The name just drifted across my mind…and that's all."

Slade looked at the depowered master mystic for another brief moment and then turned back. He needed to keep his mind straight. It was how he had survived for all these many years (regenerative abilities aside), and how he would outlive his enemies, no matter how many generations they possessed.

As Adonis, grumbling, began cutting up a lime for the still complaining Blackfire, muttering he didn't get paid enough for this job.

---

Kurai didn't get paid at all for the rather dangerous position of being Deathstroke the Terminator's apprentice, but such a thought never occurred to him at all: the honor was enough. At least until Kurai had returned from that fateful mission and found Rose now shared that honor. Ever since then sparks had flown between them, as Kurai and her both equally believed themselves to be the worthy heir of Deathstroke's legacy. It was too bad that the young woman was such an aggravating nag slash bitch, she had lovely features and a very alluring form. Of course, Kurai kept this observations very brief, subtle, and to himself. Besides, she was his rival.

And then this had happened, and Rose had gone…

What was the term?

Well, she wasn't wearing her mask, an inbuilt habit as it allowed her some facial and cranial protection. And the sharpness in her eye, as noted, wasn't as bright as before. But most of all…since the unleashing of the chaos magic, she hadn't insulted him once. No mockery, overt or subtle, had spilled from her lips. That, more then anything, bothered Kurai. He knew people could change, but he also knew people were not light switches: they couldn't go from one extreme to the next in a blink. Add in the very obvious factors that the world wasn't working as we knew it and Kurai was deeply bothered. He could almost swear he preferred Rose's mockery to her dullness.

Maybe it would be better if he deliberately provoked her, as they walked down the hallway they were in. After leaving the bar, they had gone up a flight of stairs, turned and corner, and were now walking down another hallway. The light was good, Kurai noted: strange considering the Lord was a master of darkness.

"Now listen women, I know you think you have it better now, but a firearm is still no substitute for the Bachi no Kami, even muted as it is! So follow my lead, and we can be assured neither of us will be hurt!" Kurai snapped, making it sound like he'd been waiting to get out of Slade's earshot to say this.

"…Whatever turns you on big boy!" Rose replied.

Kurai stared. Had Rose Wilson been swapped in that explosion of light for a pod person?

"So wait, you're just going to listen to me, and not question my competence or skills."

"Should I?"

"…The woman I knew would have hung me up by my scrotum for even suggesting that in the most oblique way."

"What's a scrotum?"

Kurai facevaulted.

"I fear Slade-sama's reaction to this. It is not an advantage that I would…"

And then, around the corner, a faint thump.

And in a flash Rose had drawn her pistol and cocked it, even as she kept a hand on one of the long, thin katanas on her back. In a flash Kurai saw the old Rose Wilson…briefly. It didn't last too long, but it was better then the dunce he'd been speaking to moments before.

"Did you hear something?" She asked.

"I believe so." Kurai replied, as he focused and ignited burning energy on his forefingers as he laced them together, like a child mimicking a gun. But this was not playtime, and even the small energy blasts he formed would be enough. Small holes going through chests and heads carried the same problems large ones did, like death. "Around the corner, be alert, and if it is a threat, fire precisely and slowly if possible! Don't spray!"

"I know." Rose said, as the two crept around the corner, 'slicing the pie' as Slade had taught them, slowly slipping their vision around to see…

An empty hallway.

Rose stepped around and pointed her gun, glancing around.

"My flank Kurai. Cover it. Just in case."

"Hai." Kurai replied, as he turned his head, making sure nothing snuck up behind them. But they still found nothing.

"Perhaps it was the building settling." Rose suggested as she glanced behind her.

"Yes Rose, and what is the saying, I own a overpass in the American city of Brooklyn, perhaps you would like to purchase it from me?"

"No need to get snippy…" Rose said as she turned back to the hallway…

And saw them.

Two little girls. Twins. In blue dresses.

"Hello Rose." One spoke. "Come and play with us. Come and play with us Rose. Forever... and ever... and ever."

And then…

CARNAGE DEATH AN AXE BLOOD EVERYWHERE DEAD CHOPPED TO BITS OH GOD THE GIRLS BLOOD EVERYWHERE

Kurai was just about to say something as Rose screamed and recoiled backwards, and for a moment he thought she had been attacked, something had slipped around their guard after all, as she fell into his arms and he was forced to break his gun hand stance to grab her as she pointed her own weapon down the hallway, the pistol trembling in her grasp…

At nothing. The hallway was empty.

"What the devil woman! If that was a way to break the tension, it was a piss-poor one!" Kurai snapped.

"What…the girls…dead…" Rose said, as she looked on. The hallway was empty. Nothing was there.

"What dead girls?" Kurai asked.

"There were girls in blue…and then they were dead…someone killed them with an axe…"

"What? You mean from that film, what was it, the Brilliance or something? I remember that. It was hilarious." Kurai said. "…You saw these girls and then they were dead?"

"Yes…"

"…Huh, been a long time since someone played that wholly straight."

"What?"

"Nothing." Kurai said as she shoved Rose up. "Get ahold of yourself. You're of no use to anyone if you go shooting everything that moves. More likely to shoot yourself then anything." Kurai said. He wondered if Slade would be coming: that scream had been fairly loud. There was a good chance he'd heard it.

But he did not emerge: perhaps he had not heard it. Rose seemed to have gathered herself as well.

"I swore I saw something."

"Well if you did it was kind or weak enough to go away by itself." Kurai retorted as he moved down the hallway. "Should you really be surprised? Doesn't your brain let you see visions or something?"

"My precognitive ability isn't something I can just activate on a whim and know precisely what's going to happen, Kurai! It's more instinctual, coming in flashes when needed! It's not a one stop horoscope…!"

"Fine, fine." Kurai said, sick of it already, as he finally came to a door. "Now be careful, we don't know…"

Kurai opened the door.

And the figure swung out at him.

"AHHHHH!" Kurai yelled as he jumped back and thrust out her fingers, firing a brief burst of small blasts that tore through the shadowed form. Rose was right next to Kurai and her gun immediately boomed, adding to the shots as she put four bullets through the target…

Which was still inside the room and spinning around, not moving. Rather like it was…on a rope.

Kurai blinked, then slowly stepped up and reached inside the room, finding a light switch…

And revealing the dummy, still swinging, smoke wafting from the holes Rose had shot in it. Just a normal dummy made of some unidentifiable materials, in a room filled with them.

"…Aheh. Ok, perhaps I am a bit on edge myself." Kurai said. "But I wasn't until you screamed Rose."

"What is this?" Rose said, lowering her gun, still drawing deeper breaths then usual, the new surge of adrenaline still pumping through her. She saw the dummy had a face on it. A familiar face. The Titan Raven.

"…Huh. I guess this is where the Lord relieves some frustrations." Kurai said as he looked around, seeing the dummies all had the faces of the other Titans (he would have blasted the Gauntlet one into soot, but he was trying to conserve SOME power). "No weapons though. Let's move on. And try not to get into a shootout with every open door."

"Right." Rose said, as she ejected the empty shell casings and replaced them with swift fingers, still taking deep breaths.

"Are you alright?" Kurai asked, taking notice of the breathing.

"Yeah just still a bit…excited." Rose said.

"Right. Get bored." Kurai said, as he closed the door and went down the hallway, Rose following.

Perhaps they should have looked behind them.

They'd have clearly seen the figure standing there, near the end of the hall, the now good lighting gone, casting him in shadows.

As he started after the pair.

---

"Slade. We have located something." Brick said, as Slade looked over to the newly re-brained giant.

"What?"

"Well, we found a lot of wrecked furniture here, pressed up against a broken door. Might have been thrown by the reaction." Brick said.

"Why is this important?"

"The door's broken inward. Perhaps something went through here before the wreckage blocked it off."

"I cannot see what importance this could have, but you may as well remove and examine it anyway." Slade said. He was beginning to remember why he preferred mercenary work to being a soldier: a soldier tended to have long stretches of absolutely nothing happening…

As Adonis reached for the knife, needed to add a bit more lime to the drink he was making…and found it gone. He turned his head, blinking at where it had been. What the…?

…followed by minutes of terror.

As Doctor Westminster tried to put away his painkillers and found himself dropping them, and with a low curse he leaned down, picked them up, slipped them into his pocket…

And straightened up to find himself looking into its face.

Had Westminster had immensely high reflexes, his brain may have catalogued that what was standing on the bar before him was a doll. But it did not have red hair, overalls, and look like a child's toy. No. This doll looked like it was carved in the image of an African warrior: it wore only a loincloth, long wild hair streaming down its head, its eyes burning orange buttons, and its mouth, grossly enlarged, filled with razor sharp teeth filed down to points…

And holding the knife it had stolen from Adonis.

But Westminster did not have reflexes that heightened, and so all he saw was a brown blur as it launched itself through the air at him with a loud, primal scream and struck him straight in the face.

Only luck saved him from the knife going straight into his throat, as it struck and glanced off his shoulder as Westminster recoiled backwards, his bar stool tipping him onto the floor with a crash, even as the attacking THING snarled in a weird rasping cadence and it had the knife up, it was going for his face…!

Westminster grabbed the doll (it WAS a doll!) as it tried to plunge the knife through his cheek, the point piercing through his mask and into the skin, but he had it, as he wrestled with the creature, the small form holding surprising strength and endless ferocity as it snapped and growled at him in that weird tempo, like a step below a tribal cry, and then he had it and he was throwing it through the air even as the rest of the bar reacted to the attack even as the doll bounced onto the ground and was on its feet, still holding the knife.

"What the FUCK!" Jack snapped, as he looked at the snapping black doll…which was charging at him, going straight for his feet, and Jack yelled as he did a weird dance that could almost seem to be comical if it wasn't for that snapping, shrieking THING as it tried to carve up his ankles, as Jack tried to get away and aimed his hand, planning to spear the thing, but there was no spear the Grimmer was broken and then suddenly the doll was slicing his heel as Jack yelled. With his thick pants and boots it didn't go deep enough to slice the Achilles tendon but it still stung like hell as Jack managed to connect a half-hearted kick to the doll, sending it tumbling away. But it did not drop the knife: the weapon remained clutched in its tiny hands in a near death grip as it got up, its head whirling around…

And Slade, much to his surprise, found that he recognized it.

Found that somewhere in a long forgotten corner of his mind, resting in a hotel after a mission, watching television, and finding a TV movie on, a horror film…called Trilogy of Terror. A film that was best remembered for its memorable final segment featuring a woman who had purchased a Zuni Fetish Doll for her anthropologist boyfriend, only to find that the likeness it held was not physical: a savage Zuni warrior spirit known as 'He Who Kills' actually lurked within the doll, bringing it to life to hunt and stalk the woman who was forced to fight for her life…

…but that was ridiculous. That was a movie. It couldn't be HERE…

Except it was, because Killjoy began shooting at it.

But the doll, He Who Kills, did not stand still, as it took off along the bar floor, running so quickly, like Speedy Gonzalez mainlining both caffeine and adrenaline, yelling in that weird snapping tone that almost sounded like a laugh, except it wasn't…as the Zuni doll, He Who Kills, the bullets tearing into the floor around it, ran among the feet of several of the sitting villains and vanished under the table, as the villains yelled and jumped up…

"ATLAS IS NOT IMPRESSED!" Atlas boomed as he smashed both hands down on the table…even as the Zuni Fetish doll ran up his back and launched himself at Johnny Rancid, who yelled tried to block, and got a few nasty slices across his forearm for his trouble as the doll furiously attacked him, before Johnny threw the doll off himself and it hit the ground, and a moment later a hammer crashed into the wall thrown by the Handyman and my god it was actually here it was real something had actually stepped out of a movie…

Forget it, it was a target! And so Slade yanked his shotgun up and sighted with an aim that was every bit as masterful as Killjoy's…

And every bit as ineffective, as the shotgun ripped the ground open just behind the doll, it was so damn fast, running across the bar, running behind all the wrecked and overturned debris, as Slade aimed and fired again, and again, blowing holes through everything except the damn doll, as the Sorceress recoiled, overturning a table as she got behind it, as the Zuni warrior ran across the floor and Slade and Killjoy wasted more ammo shooting at it, as the doll went for Killjoy, but despite the absurdity of the whole mess he took the threat seriously as he threw himself sideways, rolling over his table and onto the floor, where he found himself eye level with the creature as he fired two last shots, missing but driving it back, as he rolled to up to one knee, his gun clicking dry as he ejected the clip and reached for a new one with blurred fingers…

As the spear flew through the air and impaled itself in Killjoy's hand. The killer recoiled a bit at the injury, not having expected the He Who Kills to have another weapon, as the doll snatched its knife back up and ran…

As Jack slashed for it, leaning down and clawing at it with pointed Grimmer hands, as the doll dodged away from Killjoy to face its new target, still emitting that mad chatter as it swung for Jack's face, but Jack wasn't having any of it as he swatted the doll aside, and it tumbled across the floor again, and Slade was busy reloading he couldn't fire on it…

As its eyes seized on the Sorceress, and it ran and leapt at the mystic, eyes gleaming with killing rage.

---

As Kurai and Rose found their own strange sight.

The door had seemed to draw them, as it was partially open, into a room that was lit. And so they had entered, and found…

"Huh." Kurai said, as he opened the door…and found a bedroom. A very large bedroom, with a huge black-sheeted bed, with a nightstand next to it, tables and bookshelves around the room. It was so big that there were a few doors inside the room leading to other rooms. The room was utterly spotless as well, again leading to a mausoleum vibe. "I guess this is where he sleeps."

"…He needs to sleep?" Rose said, as she and Kurai entered the room. Nice, but chillingly somber. Not unexpected but she didn't like it. It made her nervous. "Do you think daddy's weapons might be in here?"

"The Lord may have kept them close at hand. Just be careful. Bastard may have booby-trapped everything in here, for all we know." Kurai said.

The door slowly closed behind the pair, as they began to look through the room. But there was no sign of a crate that may have held weapons. Finding a door, Kurai opened it to find another room.

"You look through the rest of this room. I'll check on this one. Rose, be on your guard." Kurai said, as he went through the door.

Rose tried to do so, balancing her nervousness with…what was it? A continuing rush of heat, as if constantly preparing for combat? Well, while her blood was up, it might do her good to get into a fight…

She lifted the bed cover and peered under the bed. Nothing. She even shone a mini-flashlight under it to make sure. Nothing.

She also carefully looked around as she got up in case anything had snuck up on her. Nothing, though the door to the room remained open a crack. But otherwise she was alone.

She took a few more steps, and stopped near the nightstand at the bed, noting the door to her immediate left: probably a closet. A black bound book was sitting in a partly open drawer. Curious, Rose carefully opened the drawer and took the book out, flipping it open.

Fancy black script filled page after page. This was clearly the Lord's diary or notebook of some sorts…except the script was so elaborate that Rose could barely read it. And what she did read was boring. Long rambling rants on human beings, righteousness, and all the stuff the Lord babbled about to try and make himself seem cooler then he was. What a dork, Rose mused, as she kept flipping through the book…

And found herself stopping. Abruptly, the script had changed. Fancy calligraphy had given way to jagged, frantic printing, as if the writer wasn't wholly sure what he was doing. The large lines took up the entirety of the right page, as the Lord's pondering on the nature of time abruptly trailed into…

Fever gone but itchy.
Hungry and eat doggy food.
Itchy itchy Scott came.
Ugly face so killed him.
Tasty.

Feeling that chill running down her spine again, Rose turned the page. There were only two more words.

Itchy.

Tasty.

And the door next to Rose slammed open.

And once again Rose felt the scream tearing from her lips, a weird echoing cry that didn't really sound like her, like she was hearing someone else make the sound, perhaps because even as the door crashed open her reflexes, dulled and deadened but far from gone, especially after the hallway incident, was turning, was aiming her gun, and death exploded from the pistol…

For one brief moment, her senses seemed scrambled, as she not only heard the shots she saw them, filling their vision, as if she was a part of the firing process…and then her gun clicked empty, that was the problem with revolvers, they didn't hold much ammo…

But it also allowed her vision to expand from the tunnel it had briefly shrunk to…as she saw the door next to her did not lead to a closet. It led to a small hallway, which exited into another room.

And Kurai lay on the ground before her.

And for a moment the ice returned. She hadn't been properly alert…she'd shot her own companion…

And then she realized it was wrong.

Kurai was not in the proper place. He was too close to the door to have been knocked backwards by gunshots. And…he wasn't bleeding. In fact, he was leaning up and propping his head up on one arm, as he looked at Rose with resigned annoyance.

"I loathe being on the lower plane of any creature, in any sense…but I must admit it has the advantages at times." Kurai said, as he pushed himself nimbly to his feet.

"Kurai you're…not dead." Rose breathed.

"Not considering your efforts after all." Kurai said sarcastically. "I found Slade-sama's weapons."

"What?"

"My door. It lead to Slade-sama's weapons. It had a hallway that lead to a storage room, and in a smaller room behind that one is the crate. I also found another door in the room with the weapons, which lead to the hallway and door I just exited out of." Kurai said. Rose blinked: so it wasn't a closet. "I tried to open it, but the door was jammed…and considering what just happened, I suddenly realized slamming through the door like a winged rodent out of your Hades had a high chance of proving detrimental. So I got on the floor and tried to push it open with my legs. Unfortunately it resisted to the point to when it did open, it did so in the violent way that would have proven quite painful to me had I been lined up with your bullets."

"…Wow! Kurai, you're smart!"

"So you finally notice!" Kurai said, primping briefly. Rose did not ask the more obvious question of why Kurai didn't do something like knock, or just go back the way he came. And Kurai didn't either, as Rose lowered her gun.

Her shock was gone, but her heart was still thumping, the heat still flowing through her. She'd never quite had a reaction to adrenaline like this before, but then normally she was much more calm…more rational…and…

…this wasn't quite the same as battle-sent fire. This was…a different heat, she realized.

And once she did…she had a rough idea of how to quench it.

"…probably failed any time test Slade-sama had for us." Kurai was saying as he looked back at the hallway where Rose had fired, trying to find the bullets. "Then again he never gave us any specific idea where the weapons were so maybe the test was to find them unless…" Kurai said as he turned around.

As Rose grabbed him by the shirt.

"NANI?" Kurai said as Rose swung him around, and he nearly slammed his hand against her chest and blew her rib cage into a shattered mess before Rose shoved him backwards. He fell onto the bed, still shocked. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING ROSE! ARE YOU POSSESSED?"

"No…" Rose said in a sultry tone. "But we've found Daddy's weapons. I think we for a moment deserve a rest."

"A rest? How does that involve you assaulting my…!" Kurai snapped…as Rose climbed on top of him. "Uh…"

"Just be quiet." Rose said.

"Uh well I must Rose-can you must really is this…that…is not restful…"

As the door leading to the room that Kurai and Rose had entered in originally, helped by the sudden vibrations of the floor, finally finished closing and clicked shut.

Even as a blackened, dirty hand closed on the knob.

"Naughty naughty children. Don't you know the rules?"

The light in the hall glimmered off the meat cleaver the figure had, as he began to turn the knob.

---

The glyph appeared in mid air.

Slade only noted that fact that he had never seen glyphs or markings of any kinds appear around the Sorceress when she manifested her powers. In a way, the Sorceress looked just as surprised at the glowing dinner-plate sized marking, floating before her and her outstretched hands…

As the Zuni Fetish Doll slammed into an invisible barrier between him and the Sorceress, a barrier that rebelled him with a snapping, snarling scream, but the killer doll impacting against the shield seemed to act like the equivalent of punching the Sorceress in the gut, as the air came out of her in a pained gasp, and the glyph vanished, and the doll was back up, He Who Kills was far from bested, and he was going for the Sorceress again as her eyes filled with alarm like a deer in the headlights and he still hadn't reloaded the damn doll was just so fast and it shouldn't be here it was from a movie this was STUPID…!

As Brick's massive arm slammed down before the Sorceress, cutting off the attack and shattering some floor boards, as the doll let out a furious cry and changed directions like it was on rails, as Brick recoiled, moving his giant bulk far quicker then expected, as the doll flashed past him stabbing at his ankle, but Brick's skin proved too thick as with a furious grunt he lifted up his foot and stomped it down towards the creature…

He missed, as He Who Kills evaded the blow once again…as Brick's immensely powerful blow came down at the end of a floorboard, and even as Doctor Light was aiming to try and blast the Zuni Fetish Doll the floorboard swung up from under his feet and sent him flying through the air with an alarmed shriek. Blackfire looked to the side just as she was trying to shoot the annoying pest who was bothering her (with what? Her Blacksparks? Hey, don't question the actions of an angry alien, you'll live longer) as Light crashed into her, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

If the resident pop culture geek had been present instead of absent and possibly dead, Control Freak might have commented that the atmosphere of movies was really settling in, for Doctor's Light's noise of alarm had sounded exactly like the famed (among aficionados of such things) Wilhelm Scream.

Puppet King's scream was considerably less funny, as He Who Kills charged into the larger marionette, easily knocking him to the ground as he tried to stab him to death. However, the fact that Puppet King, much like He Who Kills, was made of wood (and you'd think there would be some kind of bond between such similar creatures, but nope, guess not) rather resisted the concept of killing him. Not that the Zuni Warrior Doll didn't try, as his knife gorged splinters from Puppet King's chest and face.

"OW! NO! BROTHER PUPPET! STOP! ARGH! OW! MY EYE!" Puppet King shrieked as the Zuni doll stabbed Puppet King right in the middle of his painted on pupil. While Puppet King's nature kept him from being blinded by this, he still (especially in the dulled magic state he was in) felt it as a human would, as He Who Kills wrenched the knife out, even as Puppet King finally managed to get enough strength in his stubby arms to shove the doll off, staggering up, even as He Who Kills charged in again…

A loud cocking noise could be heard.

And He Who Kills dashed away once again, as Slade fired his shotgun at him, and with another scream Puppet King was sent flying once more (the floor took the brunt of the missed blast, but that didn't help the Puppet King much), crashing over the edge of a table as Slade made a low hiss of frustration. That damn thing had eyes on the back of its head! Well, Slade had killed a meta or two that was like that, he could damn sure kill a doll, as he aimed and fired again, even as the table Puppet King had hit and fallen off fell on top of him.

Killjoy's own gun boomed again, more bullets tearing through the café, but He Who Kills proved as elusive as ever, as he dashed at his new target…Slade himself.

Slade's eye narrowed again. Well he was sick of the problem already, as he aimed and fired again.

The floor exploded near He Who Kills' body as it dodged, so incredibly fast, eating up the distance between them despite having such small legs, and Brick and Jack were keeping out of the way of the shots as Killjoy ran out of ammo again, as Slade aimed and fired and the floor exploded just behind the doll but he was too close now but Slade's feet and legs were armored he'd go for a higher target he'd jump and he'd be ready as he lowered the shotgun transferring it to one hand and He Who Kills was leaping as Slade lashed his foot out…

His armored foot just brushed off the doll. He MISSED? HOW DID HE MIS-?

As He Who Kills stabbed his knife right at Slade's wide, remaining eye.

---

As the figure's hand turned the knob…

And found it wouldn't turn.

"…What the?"

The hand tried to turn the knob again, only to find it wouldn't move at all.

"…Hey!"

The figure began struggling with the knob, getting nowhere. The door was locked. It had locked when it had closed, a moment before the figure had grabbed it.

"This isn't the way it's supposed to go!"

Both hands yanked furiously at the doorknob, but it did not give an iota. This wasn't some cheap lock. It had been made with skill.

"Oy, this is bullshite!" The figure said, as he pressed his shoulder against the door and pushed. Nothing. He chopped at the knob with his huge knife, trying to knock it off. Nothing. He punched the door…and then recoiled, holding his hand and cursing.

"Damn bad situation NOT to be immune too!" He snapped, waving his injured appendage, and kicked the door once, twice, three times. It continued not to give. And if you're wondering why Rose and Kurai didn't hear all this noise, well, they were kinda busy.

"All right you bastard, be that way…" The figure said as he backed up, and with a yelling battle cry he charged into the door…

And bounced off.

"Oh this must be a first." The figure muttered in a snarl. If anyone had been listening, they may have noticed how his voice didn't sound exactly the same twice. "Forget a Final Girl, or a Plot Device, the killer gets foiled by a decent lock!"

"Need a credit card?"

The figure turned away from the door, as he saw Mumbo standing there, smoking a joint and looking amused at the whole thing. Of course, that probably had to do with the fact he was as high as a kite. Lousy magic brouhaha ruining his buzz, well, he'd showed it!

"Oh wait, mine all got cut up. They're great at first, but after you miss a payment or two or seven or…" Mumbo trailed off, as he finally realized that he wasn't looking at one of his fellow villains, but something else entirely.

He was at least 6'6, and his body was literally rippling with muscle (though, if one could look closely at it, it was somewhat obscured by his clothes, the muscle looked…off. In fact, one might say it looked less like natural human muscle as it did muscle drawn by the early 90's garbage glut of XTREEM comic artists…but how…?) It was hard to tell just what his shirt and pants were (he wore boots), as he wore a rainbow-stained apron that covered most of his body. On his head was a chef's hat that extended into a white mask that covered his features entirely, almost like the mask was molded to them.

Oh, and he had a giant butcher knife. Mumbo stared.

"Hey man, you look a little familiar." The intoxicated magician said.

"Well, at least you shall not die ignorant." The figure said. "I am…THE SUGARMAN!"

Silence.

"…Nyuck nyuck." The Sugarman said, as if he was adding it to his last sentence at the last second. "Bout time things got back to the way they go. This is gonna be…schweet."

And the Sugarman slashed up his knife, though the move was more to display then attack.

"Ah! Knives hurt!" Mumbo yelped.

"…That is the impression I have gotten from my many victims, yes!" The Sugarman retorted, as he started forward.

"Wait!"

"…What?" Sugarman said, pausing again.

"…Why are you talking like a relatively normal person one sentence and like a Stooge the next?" Mumbo asked.

"You don't know my origin?" The Sugarman said.

Mumbo stared.

"Very well! I am the Sugarman! I kill people! You see, I was once a pastry chef. But then…but then I had the misfortune of buying land on an Indian graveyard. And this was actually people from India for once! But on All Hallows Eve, when I had a bake sale…the store was packed and…I don't know if it was the graveyard, but the many became the one." The Sugarman espoused. "And now I understand the truth about people! I know they're useless pigs! Because I have fifty of 'em in my head, and they're constantly chattering, the noise, the ENDLESS NOISE…so, I do what I can on the outside to keep the world dead…still…and sweet."

Mumbo stared.

"So that means I'm going to kill you moron!" Sugarman snapped.

"AHHHHH! NO! KILLING HURTS! AS MUCH AS KNIVES!" Mumbo yelped as he turned and began tearing away from the chef slash legion serial killer.

"That's better. Time to slice, and dice, and maybe make some Julian Fries! Nyuk nyuk!" The Sugarman said, as he started after Mumbo.

Walking at a slow, menacing crawl.

As Mumbo quickly got farther and farther away from him and disappeared around the corner.

"…Wait a minute, something isn't right here…" The Sugarman said as he walked along, as Mumbo's footsteps faded. "Hey wait…slow down!"

And on his throne, watching, Freddy smacked his head.

"YOU IDIOT! RUN!" He yelled.

"Run? What's running?"

Freddy facevaulted. Which was a damn strange sight to see, let me tell you that. By now Mumbo was long gone, even his footsteps having faded to nothing. The Sugarman stared, wondering what had gone wrong.

Well, he'd said run. So he'd try that.

So off the Sugarman took running…

For four steps before he collapsed in a gasping heap.

"CURSE YOU DEEP FRIED MARSHMELLOWS!"

---

Once, a lifetime ago, Slade's greatly enhanced reflexes had failed to live up what he believed them to be capable of. That error had cost him his right eye.

Now it looked like another error in judgment was about to turn him into Zatoichi…

LIKE HELL.

The knife just glanced off the outer left rim of his armored mask, carving a scraping line across the orange color as He Who Kills momentum's carried the knife away from his eye…even as tiny, miniscule flecks of armor chipped off from the attack and went into Slade's eye. It was better then a blade, but that fact was lost on Slade as his eye watered and his vision blurred, even as he dropped the shotgun and tried to get the Zuni doll off of him before it could launch another assault, grabbing at it, trying to yank it away while simultaneously disarming it as he stumbled around (what was going on? HE WAS SLADE WILSON, why was he staggering around fighting with a puppet, this was ridiculous!), as he finally got the knife out of the puppet's hands, as it fell to the floor, but before Slade knew it He Who Kills had lunged and was trying to rip his throat out, slipping under the unarmored part of his mask and chest armor, its teeth razor sharp, biting through the thick but not thick enough material beneath…

As Slade finally got a grip and yanked it off, slamming the Zuni Fetish Doll into the ground with an angry yell. He tried to stomp on it, but He Who Kills evaded the blow once again and sprinted off, grabbing up his knife, as Slade cursed and rolled over to his shotgun, snatching it up and aiming at the hellsent doll, he was going to kill that damn thing…

But all he killed was the wall, as his shot missed once again. Slade muttered another low curse and ejected the shells. He'd had it. If he kept narrowly missing he'd make that fact a non-issue, as he ignored his normal shells and popped in two of his special ones, high grade explosive ones that would blow a man to pieces, let alone a doll. He'd get the damn thing with splash damage.

Not that he was alone in his effort, as Johnny Rancid tried to smash a barstool over the doll's chattering, snarling head, but Johnny missed and just got a stabbed ankle for his trouble, and even as he yelled Atlas and Handyman tried to smash the accursed thing with their fists and a sledgehammer, but they just put more holes in the floor as He Who Kills tore along, as Killjoy fired more shots at him and just made himself look like he was slipping more…

As Jack began hurling liquor bottles, which missed as well, no big surprise, as He Who Kills dashed through the puddles of alcohol…

And Slade decided certain tricks worked just as well the second time and aimed at the puddle.

With the explosive shells the sound of his shotgun was like a cannon, exploding through the room, as the projectiles blew a hole the size of most people's upper bodies in the floor and ignited the alcohol, as Slade swiveled the shotgun and fired again, blasting another massive hole to cut He Who Kills off, as the fire swept up and consumed the doll with a shriek…

Slade grinned fiercely beneath his mask.

And then the Zuni Fetish Doll leapt out of the flames, a little scorched but still going. The fire danced in the burning pits of its gaze.

Slade's eye narrowed. Well, the doll couldn't go back and at this range…

He Who Kills charged, eager for Slade's other eye.

Slade felt the world go into slow motion, as he braced his shotgun, lined up the shot, placed his hand on the trigger, and squeezed…

…And the gun jammed.

As…

---

Enough of that exciting stuff.

The Sugarman was beginning to debate the ventilation problems of a full-face mask when he rounded the corner of the latest hallway and FINALLY found Mumbo again. Geez! How long had he been wandering around looking for him? Well, that didn't matter. They always ended up trapped anyway…

…Mumbo wasn't trapped. He was leaning against the wall, calmly smoking another joint, as if he hadn't a care of the world.

"Oh, are you still around?" He commented. The Sugarman stared, his eyes the only visible part of his face.

"'Ey! Don't you know the rules?" Sugarman snapped. "Now I have to kill you twice over!"

The Sugarman started for Mumbo again…and then stopped.

"Wait, does that sound necessary? He's already dead!" The Sugarman said again, his voice different from before…as he shifted his stance just a bit.

"I feel like ice cream. Who else?" The Sugarman said again. The voice this time was considerably more effeminate then the last two.

"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!" The Sugarman yelled, back to his 'normal' voice, and as Mumbo watched the Sugarman hauled off and began smacking himself in the head. "I AM TRYING TO WORK HERE!"

"Working hard, or hardly working?" Mumbo said, and snorted laughter at his own joke. The Sugarman glared at him. Bastard was stoned out of his gourd, and that meant even more he was supposed to die, but if the Sugarman got close he'd just start running again stupid…wait.

"Wait a sec…if he's high…then…" The Sugarman said, and began to approach. Mumbo's eyes grew wide and skittish.

"NO! IF YOU KEEP RUNNING, THE DRAGONS WILL EAT YOUR ACORNS!" The Sugarman yelled.

"But I have my yams!" Mumbo retorted. Sugarman almost swerved off course at that, but managed to keep going.

"Don't tell me you don't like acorn stew! Do you want the dragons to win?"

"NEVER!" Mumbo declared, as he stood up straight and thumped his chest.

"Good! Then don't run!"

"I will never run!"

"So then you die!" Sugarman said, as he charged.

"EKKKKKKKK! HOW AM I SO THOUROUGLY TRAPPED?" Mumbo shrieked. "…Wait, I've seen some of these films! People who have tragic pasts never die! I just have to remember my terrible heart-wrenching history!"

"Sorry son, the tiger cage is closed for repairs." Mumbo's father said at the zoo entrance.
"WAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Oh bran muffins." Mumbo said, as the Sugarman closed in…

And then an exclamation point appeared above Mumbo's head. He looked up at it.

"Whoa, this is some good shit. Or I just saw Solid Snake. Or I have an idea." Mumbo said. "Ah right, it was an idea! HALT, YOU GORE-MET!"

"Ugh. You should die just for that pun." The Sugarman said.

"I am not dying today! For I am, THE AMAZING MUMBO!" Mumbo said, as he jumped back with a wave of his cape. "And I have nastier tricks under my hat…" Mumbo said, as he swept his hat off. "Then you could ever produce! Now…!" Mumbo said as he stuck his hand into the hat…

As a small thought behind his drug-induced haze piped up reminding him magic was all messed up…

As Mumbo's eyes went wide, as he felt the trick go terribly wrong.

"Oops. This blows. Er…sucks. Wow, I've never had it be literal..."

And Mumbo was yanked into his hat, his arm pulling his shoulders and head in with it as the hat sucked his whole top half in before it jammed, leaving Mumbo's legs kicking and flailing as he staggered around, the hat stuck over his top half and leaving him unable to see…

As he fell down the stairs.

The crashing noises as he did so sounded as painful as anything Sugarman could do, as he stood there, wondering how things had gone so wrong.

"But...but WE were supposed to kill him! I know, it's not fair! Seriously, man, did anybody actually READ the script? I feel like a biscotti…where are we anyway, I don't recognize this SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!"

---

And speaking of reading the script, it looked like Slade hadn't either, as the sound of the dull noise of his gun failing to fire when he finally had the proper shot rang through his ears like a gong, as He Who Kills leapt with a soul-rending shriek, his knife pointed straight for Slade once more…

As he froze in mid-air.

Slade stared. The Zuni Fetish Doll had literally stopped a few feet in front of him, as it realized it was frozen as well and began thrashing and screaming, but it was unable to escape whatever held it.

Someone began blasting the fire with fire extinguishers, filling the area in front of Slade with misty white…

And then, like any conquering hero in any brain-dead summer blockbuster, Control Freak strolled out, remote in hand, having paused the creature He Who Kills, pulled from the movie known as Trilogy of Terror, right in front of Slade. The creature shrieked in rage, as Control Freak smirked and ignited his four-bladed lightsaber ripoff.

"Lemme get a slice of this action!"

And he slashed out with his laser blades, and He Who Kills let off one more fearsome howl before he was sliced to pieces.

Slade watched the parts fall, dropping to the ground, as dead and motionless as any puppet would normally be…and then as Slade watched, the parts began to fade away, like film being exposed to sun, until they vanished entirely. Leaving not a trace of the havoc caused.

And all by one little puppet (possessed by a savage warrior spirit and given a little outside help, true, but still).

"My fellow villains!" Control Freak declared: he had not been vaporized or run away, no, he had been struck by the shockwave that had been unleashed when this had begun and been thrown through the broken door Brick had found barricaded with tossed furniture, where he had lain unconscious for a bit (and had a few dreams far too disgusting to mention here) before waking up and hearing the chaos outside. It had taken work to get the unmoved wreckage out of the way, but he'd had perfect timing nonetheless and had actually saved Slade Wilson, SLADE WILSON, from injury or worse. Add on top of that just what situation threatened the villains and you can't blame Control Freak for seizing the moment, as he made an extravagant flourish with one arm, holding his quad-laser sword in the other. "Far be it from me to gloat! After all, you've excluded me. For years, you've treated me like so much dirt. I am used to this. I was beaten up by the football team when I petitioned to have Klingon added to my school's foreign language curriculum. And when I was baptized as a born again Jedi, my parents disowned me. But in the present, you wouldn't let me into your little bar. 'You're underage', you said. 'You smell bad', you said. Well it's a freakin' VILLAIN BAR, so what the hell do YOU care about drinking ages? What, you can take on the Teen Titans, but you're afraid of ONE LITTLE LAW? Perchaw! But I digress. Sure, some of you may be thinking that this is my fault, and sure, some of you may be saying my remote was the key to unleash all this, and sure, some of you may think that you should just lynch me now and be done with it…"

"He's finally talkin' sense! I got some rope!" Handyman yelled.

"But, er, um, you can't! Because you need me." Control Freak said. "Oh sure, you can all handle superheroes, but apparently not little voodoo dolls, Freddy Krueger, and Shatner knows what else that's coming! This is beyond all of your experience. You're playing in the old CF's corner now! This is my world, and I can help you get out of it!" Control Freak said. "But…I want an apology."

And Slade slammed the butt of his shotgun against Control Freak's head so hard he nearly forget 75 of his memorized episodes of Doctor Who, as he crashed to the ground, fortunately not falling on his laser weapon and cauterizing his guts.

"If it weren't a waste of a bullet, YOU WOULD BE DEAD." Slade hissed. "So new deal. You will do whatever I tell you, impart whatever useless knowledge that will aid us in surviving this GARBAGE you have forced on us, and then you will be grateful if you are ever allowed to eat solid food again!"

"…Deal." Control Freak whimpered.

And Sorceress, from where she still sat on the floor, finally got her answer. She had wondered how Slade Wilson would react when he finally realized just what the situation. When his rigid imagination, able to handle such things as teenage superheroes but unable to let in much else, would be put to the test against such things as horror characters coming to life and nearly doing something as serious as fully blinding him.

And the answer was…not well. Not well at all.

This was not going to be a fun night.

"Now…in case anyone was wondering…" Slade began.

"LEMME AT YOU YOU…!" Mumbo yelled as he staggered into the bar with his hat still eating him.

And Slade blew him in half, the high explosion shells tearing through Mumbo's body like nothing, as his legs fell to the floor in a spray of blood.

"…Oops." Slade said. "Did anybody see that?"

"Pretty much all of us saw it." Jack commented.

"I see. Friendly fire. Happens all the time. That's why I told you to all stay together, so the people with the guns don't get surprised." Slade said, as he ejected the shells from his shotgun. "Now clean up this place. And I mean everybody. We don't want to give anything that comes ANY advantages. You saw how well one small fast target was able to effectively neutralize all of us. That won't happen again. Or next time I WON'T be making a mistake." Slade said, as he began reloading.

Jack bit off making another sarcastic comment, as he turned around to look at the bar, hunting for another bottle…and noticed, in one swift movement, the stranger Doctor Westminster putting his surgical mask back on.

Jack narrowed his eyes. The movement certainly looked furtive to him. Jack didn't care what the Lord said about the bloke, he knew something was wrong about him. After all, if the Lord was so smart, why was he dead?

"And clean up the bodies too. We don't need their stench infecting the place." Slade said as well.

"Uh, Slade?" The Handyman called.

"What?"

"You may want to come here."

Slade walked over.

"What is it Handyman." Slade said in a no-nonsense tone.

"Well uh, just wondering…where's the rest of him?" The Handyman said.

And Slade looked down and saw that indeed, only Mumbo's legs and a touch of his waist remained: the only other thing that was left was his hat, soaking in the pool of blood left from Mumbo's passing.

"…I don't know."

---

MumboWorld.

"We got ourselves a mystery on our hands, here." The Mumbo Policeman said as he looked at the dead upper half of Mumbo, his sightless eyes still locked in the shock of whatever had hit him in his last moments.

"…Wait." The other Mumbo Policeman said. "How come we still exist? I thought we were a magically created figment of Mumbo's bra-"

And the entire dimension collapsed, leaving Mumbo's upper body to bleed off into a featureless plane.

---

"Perhaps we should send someone to…" Slade said, and then stopped himself with great irritation. He couldn't send someone else off alone, because they'd die. That was how these…films worked, Jesus Christ, how had his life come to this? The concept hurt him more then He Who Kills ever could have.

"Never mind." He said in a low growl, and turned away from the doorway and Mumbo's legs.

"How do you like that! No respect for protocol! Nyuk nyuk!" The Sugarman said at the top of the stairs.

"Did I hear something?" Slade asked.

The Sugarman found that with the proper motivation, he very well could run.

And as Control Freak watched everyone move, while holding his aching head, and Slade walking around like he knew what he was talking about, when it was clear he didn't want a damn thing to do with it and resented everything about it, but no way could Control Freak be in charge because he was the great Slade Wilson…

"Bastards…" Control Freak hissed under his breath. "This isn't over. By Grabthar's hammer, by the sons of Worvan, I shall be avenged-!"

And then Brick gave Control Freak a light smack. To him a light smack still nearly knocked Control Freak clean out again.

"I do not like to resort to violence to get a point across, so I will just point out to avoid any more repercussions, most likely by people far less kind then me, that your odds of surviving this if you maintain any delusions of paying us back are very poor." Brick said.

"I'll be good." Control Freak groaned. "…But just you wait! You'll all die off! You're catnip to them! They'll get you all! All of you! But I'll survive! Hahahahaha…!"

Brick raised a hand again.

"I'll be quiet now."

---

"This is nuts!" The Sugarman said, now up on the roof of the Villain Café. "They're supposed to let ME kill them, and if they're not locking their doors and running away, they're killin' themselves and being' stoopid!"

The slasher twitched for a few seconds, as smoke bloomed up next to him and a ghostly outline of Freddy appeared.

"Oh don't worry. The shit's still rising, and soon, they'll be up to their eyeballs in it! AHAHAHAAA!" Freddy laughed.

"……………………..I think that was supposed to be the end of the chapter, but someone missed their cue. How unprofessional." The Sugarman said. "Hey tall, dark, and hideously scarred, you doing anything later?"

"What? I am organizing a grand nightmare shitstain! I have to plan their gruesome ends, not make time with some no-budget straight to DVD wannabe!"

"Oh, you don't have time for little old me?" The Sugarman said in a sultry female voice.

Freddy kicked the slasher off the roof.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-!" CRASH! "THANKS! THAT ONE'S ALWAYS BEEN A REALLY BIG BITCH!"

Freddy smacked his clawed hand into his forehead again (palm first, idiots). What had happened to the genre he reigned over? What piece of putrid muck had he pulled the Sugarman from? Oh who cared, if the readers gave a damn they could go find him themselves. Though Freddy doubted they would: if they were so stupid to read something like this all the way here, there were pretty much above only one category of people in terms of intelligence: the people who allowed such movies to be made.

"Who greenlights this shit?" He growled, and vanished back into the ether.

---

Next Time, In Boogeymen III!

IN THE HALL OF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE…

"So, should we help them?" Green Lantern said.

"Hell no!" Superman said, as he tossed some popcorn into his mouth. "This is the best thing we'd had on TV all year!"

"God, you can be such a dick."

8888

"Why are YOU in such a bleeding good mood?" Mad Mod snapped to Torque.

"Hm, I'm not sure. It may be because having my head turned around has given me a new perspective on life. Or perhaps blood is pooling in the back of my head, inducing a mild delirium."

8888

"If video games have taught me anything, hiding under this crate will allow me to move completely undetected!' Control Freak said as he lifted up the box.

"Get your own box fatso!" Solid Snake said as he kicked Control Freak off the roof.

"Sweet! Thanks magic box!" Sugarman said.

"Uh…you're welcome…"

8888

"…one leg?" Said Nightwalker.

8888

"Dammit Slade, cut the gray wire!"

"For the last time Freddy, THEY'RE ALL GRAY!"

"…what a twist!" Blackfire said.

8888

"So Torque, how DO you go to the bathroom?"

"Carefully."