A Comedy of Horror

The light hurt, and it woke Colin up. He curled up on his bed and tried to pull the covers over his head. He let out a groan, one to say to leave him alone.

He didn't like this place, and had to be here. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't! Why was it that nobody ever believed him? Why did people hate him?

The light wasn't going away, so he groaned a little louder. It got a response.

"Doctor needs to see you, kid. Need to get up."

What? The doctor? Why did the doctor need to see him? He didn't want to get up. The doctor wasn't nice. None of them were nice. Well…there was the nice nurse. Where was she? He wanted to see her instead. Like Ms. Bertinelli.

"Wha…?" he groaned out.

"It's important. You need to get up, kid."

A hand roughly shook his shoulder, and his body curled up more. The hand didn't stop and then the cover was pulled away from his head and now his eyes were hurting. He squeezed his eyelids tighter; that would protect his eyes, wouldn't it? But the light wasn't stopping and the hand wasn't either. He had no choice but to wake up and he wasn't happy.

"Come on, move it, kid. We don't got all night."

Aww, it was still night? But he wanted to sleep!

Now he was being pulled out of the bed and his feet touched the co—COLD! The floor was so cold! One of his arms started being pulled which almost made him fall. Without thinking he pulled back, digging his feet into the floor.

"Stooop!" It came out more like a whine, but it was the best he could do. He was still sleepy and didn't understand. Why were they being so mean? Why were they waking him up? What did the doctor want?

"Stop being such a brat!" It came out like a hiss and the grip on his arm tightened. It hurt, and he whimpered.

With his other hand, he reached back to the bed, his palm patting the mattress until warm fluff met it. Rory, he couldn't leave Rory alone.

"Just let him take the bear. Come on, we need to go."

There, there, Rory was under an arm and held to his body. Nothing could comfort him more than his teddy bear. He let himself be pulled along, calm now. He was led out of the room and into the hallway. When he had first come here, there had been a lot of people. Now it was empty and quiet, and though Rory was under his arm, he had to raise his hand to rub at his eye. He was tired, he didn't want to do this.

Blue eyes blinked open and he looked around. For the first time he saw that the hospital people were wearing face masks and for some reason their faces were really white. They didn't look at him and so Colin looked down and around and didn't see anyone else. Wait, there was someone laying on the floor over there, but they weren't moving. Sleeping?

"I want to go back to bed," he moaned when he saw another hospital person laying on the floor. There was something dark under their head, like a puddle but not really.

"Not until you see the doctor," the man pulling him along said. "He's right over here. Waiting for you."

As the man brought them to a stop, he reached out and opened the door. At the same time, Colin complained, "I'm not happy. I want to go back to sleep."

"That is a big shame, Colin. After I came all the way here to make you merry again."

That…wasn't the doctor. It sounded weird, and then two hands were on his shoulders, squeezing tightly. He looked up and found himself waking up when he saw the red beak and the light shining off of the red eyes that glared back at him.

"Don't worry, the doctor is going to make everything better. I promise."

Damian was sulking. He had been since the hostage incident with the League of Smiles. Batman just kept his hands on the wheel, driving them through the inner city.

The boy had done as he had been ordered. He had protested, but he had completed the objective. It was clear that he wanted more action, more violence than simply saving two endangered people. He was going to need to get over it. Not every crime required violence; not every incident required punching something. The ultimate goal was to save a life; he had given that responsibility to Damian; he needed to see this.

"You're upset," the vigilante broke the silence.

Damian shifted in his seat, seemingly pulling away as he looked out the passenger window. He didn't say a word.

"You did well saving those people. That's nothing to be upset about."

"It was child's play," the dark-haired boy scoffed. "My skills are more worthy of better work."

Humble, wasn't he? "You had the most important role, Damian. Those people needed saving, to be protected. That is what you did. There is no shame in that."

"It was hardly challenging!" Damian whipped his head around, scowling. "I should have been trusted to fight off those clowns! Like you!"

Batman glanced at him. "What do you think we're doing out here?"

"Delivering justice to those that would taint this city. To show that we are—"

"You can stop right there."

Damian blinked his eyes as he was interrupted. "Damian," Batman began, "this isn't about being superior." Though it hadn't been said, the dark-clad man could see that was where his son's thinking was headed. He knew because those were the lessons that he had been given while being used by the Demon's Fang. "We aren't here to show we are stronger or more skilled, and that everyone should listen to us because of that. We're out here to save lives, to protect people that have no means to protect themselves. For those we can't save, we ensure that the people that harmed them don't go unpunished. I didn't give you the job of saving those people because it was beneath me; I gave it to you because it was the most important—far more important than fighting a couple of clowns. Do you understand?"

Damian remained silent, but slowly nodded his head eventually.

"When we return home, I want you to think about why you're doing this. Is it to help people, or is it to show the world just how strong you are? I want you to think about this long and hard because—"

He never got a chance to finish. Suddenly, something rammed into the side of the car, forcing the vehicle to slide sideways across the road, even as they continued going forward. Damian cried out in surprise as Batman gripped his hands on the wheel tighter. He corrected their sudden drifting, only to get hit on the opposite side of the car, forcing them back to the other side of the street.

What the hell?! Something was hitting them, something big and hard. The—

They were hit on the passenger side again, Damian crying out. Batman punched his foot on the accelerator even as they skidded diagonally across the road. The tires caught traction and the drift ended abruptly. The road was empty of traffic, a consequence of the League of Smiles being active all over the city.

Looking out the windows of the car, Batman caught sight of something—make that two somethings. They were big, large, and were galloping on all-fours. They were also a dull yellow stained with dark gray. As they began to pull ahead of them, the Dark Knight just caught sight of red glowing eyes.

Oh great, those constructs were back.

Unfortunately, they were picking up speed too. Pushing the accelerator down nearly to the floor, Batman gunned the engine, urging the car to go faster. Again, they began to pull away, only for the constructs to increase their own speed, catching up much faster than he would have liked.

"What are these things?!" Damian exclaimed.

"Hold on!" Batman barked as he pulled his foot off of the accelerator. If outrunning these things wasn't working, then it was time to change tactics.

He then slammed his foot down on the brake. The shrill sound of rubber skidding across asphalt filled their ears, their bodies lunging forward only to be stopped by their seat belts. On either side of them, the black constructs rushed by.

Even as they were skidding forward, they entered an intersection. Seeing this, Batman spun the wheel to the right, causing the car to turn, the back of the vehicle fishtailing. Damian slid in his seat towards the dark-clad man, his hands gripping onto his seat in an attempt to keep himself still.

As they entered the intersecting street, Batman continued to keep them spinning, right up until the intersection reappeared in view of the windshield. Immediately, the vigilante shifted the gear shift into reverse and he punched his foot down on the accelerator, spinning the wheel back to straighten the car out. Now they were driving down the street backwards.

For a moment, Batman wanted to tell Damian not to tell his mother about this. He wasn't certain why, but he had the feeling Talia would not approve of this display of reckless driving.

That thought was shoved aside as he made preparations. Flicking a switch, the headlights to the car moved forward and then slid to either side. Out of the holes they left, the barrels of the cannons extended out. Using his thumb, he pushed on the ends of the driver's wheel, popping the tops off to reveal two red buttons. Yes, he had done this before, and knew that this wasn't going to stop those constructs, but they were going to buy him some time.

In the intersection, the two constructs reappeared, clearly having made U-turns and given chase. Long snouted heads were lowered, a pattern of long, serrated spikes lining the skulls. The moment they began charging towards the black car, Batman pressed down on the red buttons with his thumbs. The cannons fired, a deafening explosion erupting against one of the constructs. It was blasted backwards, disappearing from sight amidst the flames and smoke that appeared.

The second construct just glanced at its brethren for a moment before blatantly ignoring it, picking up its pace as it chased after the backwards-driving car. Batman fired the cannons again, striking this construct as well. He fired the cannons one more time to ensure that he stunned the creature.

Then he hit the brake again, the car skidding to a stop. "Why are we stopping?!" Damian shouted.

Batman responded by putting the car in park, the canopy sliding forward. "Stay here," he ordered as he hauled himself out of the car.

"Father, I'm—!"

The moment his feet touched down on the pavement, Batman could see Damian scrambling to remove his seatbelt, it was the only thing that slowed him down. Hitting a button on his gauntlet, the canopy slid shut, sealing the boy inside. Through the window, he could see Damian's mouth moving, no doubt shouting, but none of his words were heard.

It was going to stay that way. With the push of another button, a panel on the side of the car began extending out, revealing a compartment. A small bed of loam was revealed between the compartment's opening and the panel itself, an arm's length arm guard appearing. Grabbing it, Batman slid it over his right arm, popping it into place with audible clicks. He bent his elbow, testing whether he still had mobility with it, and found it wouldn't move. This was expected. His eyes glanced towards the top of his hand, where there was a thin slit.

There was a loud roar then. Turning his head, Batman saw the constructs were back on their feet, galloping towards him again. Shoving the panel back into place, the vigilante activated one last security protocol, armor beginning to slide all over the car. Plate after plate appeared until the car was covered in it. There, that would keep Damian safe.

Now for the constructs.

Batman began to walk out in front of his car, approaching the incoming monsters. As he walked, a long, black blade slid out of the slit of the armor attachment. It stretched out a foot, foot and a half approximately. Attempting to bend his elbow again, he found he could do so, which allowed him to glance at the black blade.

This had been a gift from Zatanna, he couldn't remember when. He did recall it was a "belated birthday gift," or so she claimed. It was called the Black Sword of Mordred. Whether it had any connection to Mordred of Arthurian lore, he didn't know, and Zatanna had been less than forthcoming on the background. Naturally, he had inspected the sword and found it to be made of obsidian, which explained its black color. However, obsidian was a rather fragile material, not nearly as durable as steel. It seemed a poor choice to make a sword from.

However, when he tested it, he found it was a lot more durable than he had expected. Also, thanks to the obsidian, it was incredibly sharp. He had managed to cut right through a stalagmite with ease. The cut had been so fine, the halves of the stalagmite had been smooth to the touch. How the sword had done that without breaking had been a mystery. When he had asked Zatanna about it, all she said was that it was enchanted.

So it had some magic spell that made it more durable, he surmised. Well, it was this enchantment he was hoping to use against these constructs.

As the constructs charged him down, Batman began to angle himself towards the one that was in the lead. He wanted its body between him and the second construct so that they both didn't trample him down at the same time.

The first was upon him then. It lunged at him, snarling as it reached out with long claws. They were very much like a cat's paw, the claws extending out from between each finger. Darting to one side, Batman avoided the lunge, keeping his right arm crossed over his chest.

As the creature began to pass him, he then swung his arm back across his body. He angled the arm upwards as well, allowing his sword to cut upwards diagonally. The black blade bit into the construct's belly and then went right through it.

It was over in an instant. The sword started on one side of the monster and exited out the other, cleaving it in two. The construct stumbled forward for perhaps a couple feet before it fell apart. Its top and bottom parts hit the ground, lying there for a moment before they began to deteriorate, dissolving into dust that rose up into the air until the construct was no more.

Well, that had worked out much better than he had anticipated. He was really going to need to send a thank you card to Zatanna for the sword.

However, that left one construct left and it was skidding to a stop as it twisted its body to face him, snarling as it did so. It seemed oblivious to its fallen brethren and lunged at him.

Batman darted to a side, slicing at one of the approaching clawed hands. He cut it off with ease, not feeling any resistance as the sword passed right through the monster's limb. The arm fell to the ground, already dissolving to dust, leaving a stump connected to the beast. Even then, the stump seemed to be disintegrating, slower than the amputated hand, but the process was starting.

Not finished, as the vigilante passed by the injured construct, he swung his sword down and then out to the side, allowing him to cut off a leg as well. This sent the construct crashing to the ground, sans part of an arm and leg. It howled where it laid, trying to use its good limbs to push it up without support from the other side.

Leaping upwards, Batman landed on the construct's back and swung his sword again, starting from a position behind him and going forward until he held the sword up in the air. This cleaved the construct in two at the waist, effectively finishing it off.

Hopping off of the dissolving body, Batman turned his attention to his car, still covered in its protective plating. No doubt Damian was sulking again. Now he had to explain why he couldn't fight—

Suddenly, he saw movement. The shadows casted by the streetlamps against parked cars and the surrounding buildings began to move. And by move, he meant they fled the objects that created them, swarming into the mouths of alleyways that lined the street. Seeing one that was close by, Batman could see the shadows gathering, growing larger, and beginning to take shape.

Just great, there were more constructs being made. Batman held his sword up. It seemed he had more work to do.

This was intolerable! Insufferable! Insulting! He was the grandchild of the Demon's Head! The son of the Batman!

And he was locked in this stupid car!

First, Damian had been given the menial task of pulling tied up people over a ledge. Now he was locked away from the action! It was a sop to his honor! Disgraceful! What would his mother say if she were to see him in this position?

Who was he kidding? Her Order of Assassins no doubt saw him in his predicament and would no doubt tell her all about it.

Because of the security protocols his father had activated, steel plating covered all of the windows, blinding him to the outside world. He had no idea what was happening. His father could be injured or dead for all he knew! He needed to get out of here! He needed to prove that he wasn't some liability! He was worthy of his father's respect, an equal to share on the battlefield!

The secret to his freedom stood with the computer in this car, the Batmobile as the public called it. His fingers were tapping onto keys, the results of his typing appearing on the small screen in the dashboard. Words and letters flashed by at breakneck speed, the occasional diagram appearing and disappearing just as quickly. To the untrained eye, it would seem as if he were just hitting random keys and hoping something would occur that benefited him.

They would be wrong, of course. He was seeking out the security protocol that was trapping him here. It wasn't as simple as hitting one or two buttons; the system was far too complex for that.

Eventually, he found the security settings on the Batmobile—finally! Slowing down his typing, he checked through the various settings until he found the protocol for lockdown. The computer was reporting it was on, so Damian turned it off.

Much to his delight, the steel plates began sliding back the way they had come. The cockpit was filled with the sound of grinding gears as the armor was removed, disappearing from his sight once it passed by the edge of the window. Striking the same key then, he backed his way out of the security settings and then struck a few more keys. This caused the canopy to slide forward, the cool air of the night washing over him.

He was free!

Hoping out of the Batmobile, the moment Damian's feet hit the pavement, he stopped.

What…what the hell were those?!

They were giant creatures, all dull shades of the rainbow with veins as black as the void. They were roaring and snarling, their powerful arms swinging about, claws ripping apart chunks of the road and the surrounding buildings. Amongst them, his father could be seen darting about, avoiding the attacks, and not doing much else. In the air, dark smoke would rise up, dissipating as quickly as it appeared.

He…he needed to help!

Instinctively, Damian reached over his shoulder and found his hand grasping at empty air. It was only then he remembered that his katana had been left behind, an order of his father's. What a time to be unarmed! Snarling, Damian then reached to his brand new utility belt, pulling out a few of the throwing stars. Running, he raced over to the crowd of creatures before he threw the throwing stars at the head of one of the creatures.

His aim was impeccable as ever, striking the side and back of the monster's head. This caused it to stop what it was doing and then slowly turned its head. Its lips spread apart, revealing sharp, glistening teeth as its red eyes spotted him.

For a moment Damian felt as if perhaps he hadn't done a good thing.

The beast then spun around fully, roaring as it lunged at him. "Ahhhh!" Damian yelped as he jumped to one side, a massive fist flying downward and striking the ground where he had formerly been standing. Pieces of asphalt broke and flew out in all directions, smaller pieces pelting his body.

The moment Damian landed on the ground, he was bouncing off of it again. The black monster had used the same hand it had used to punch the ground to strike again, swinging it outward in a backhand attack. Because it had its knuckles dug into the ground, the outward swing of its arm caused it to drag through the pavement, leaving a small trench in its wake. While Damian dodged the blow easily, he felt wind pull at his body and it passed by.

Frantically, his hands went to his belt, searching the pockets for something, anything he could use against the giant monster. He found more throwing stars and quickly pulled them out, throwing right at the beast's face. Though it seemed a panicked response—which it wasn't!—he was actually aiming for its eyes, all six of them. That's correct, the monster had two columns of red eyes. Had he forgotten to mention that detail earlier?

The throwing stars struck the monster's face then. A couple had hit the cheeks and forehead of the creature and bounced off harmlessly, but a few struck true, piercing the eyes—

No, no, they actually bounced off of the eyes too, leaving no damage whatsoever. How was that possible?! Those stars had been sharpened into points and should have stuck into the soft, rubbery eyeball! It's what they were designed to do!

Suddenly, the monster raised both of its hands up before throwing them down to the ground. Its hands hit the pavement and broke into it, fingers digging in further. Then it displayed incredible strength as it pulled up a chunk of the road, a part that Damian happened to be standing on.

"Whooooooaaaahhhhhh!" Damian cried out as he toppled over backwards, landing unceremoniously on his backside. He closed his eyes only for a moment because of the sharp pain he felt in his butt, but when he reopened them, he saw the monster was still pushing the chunk of road forward, to the point it was curling above the boy.

He knew what was coming next and acted just as quickly. Damian rolled to one side just before the piece of road fell downwards, striking the ground he had been laying on only a moment earlier.

Suddenly, something grabbed onto his leg and Damian found himself being yanked up into the air. Crying out, he was soon hanging upside down, dangling from the one leg. This afforded him the sight of seeing the monster upside down, staring at him before its lips quivered. Then they opened and revealed a maw of sharp teeth, strings of saliva connected pointed tooth to pointed tooth.

Damian screamed.

And then something erupted right between the three sets of red eyes. It was long and thin, stopping a few inches away from Damian's face. It only took him a moment to realize it was a black sword, the boy's eyes admiring the craftsmanship for a moment. Then the sword was pulled back through the monster's head, leaving a thin wound from where it had previously been.

Yet, the creature didn't move. It seemed frozen where it stood. Then the slit the sword made began to widen all on its own. Black smoke began to waft up from it, the edges of the wound spreading out in all directions, creating a gaping wound that was ever growing. Eventually, the monster's head was gone, the rest of its body following along as it disintegrated. Even after its torso vanished, the arm that was still holding Damian remained hovering in midair. Eventually, the arm dissolved as well, and when it did, Damian suddenly found himself falling headfirst to the ground.

Again he cried out, but only out of startlement. It wasn't out of fear! In fact, he was reaching out with his hands, ready to go into a flip when he felt something grab onto his other leg, stopping him from landing on the ground.

For a moment, Damian just hung there before he tilted his head downward. He found himself once again dangling from a hand grasping his leg by the ankle. However, this hand was smaller and it was connected to his father, who was staring down at him, a disapproving look on his face.

"Eh, hello, Father," Damian greeted nervously.

Alright, so recap: the League of Smiles were just a bunch of people dressed like clowns, taking their cue from a maniac that also liked to dress as a clown. In groups, they were intimidating and scary and yeah. Put them against three badass teenagers with kickass fighting skills and they were running for the hills.

But then, SPOILER ALERT, a giant monster showed up. Brown as dead grass, standing almost as tall as a one-story house, oh and the creepy red eyes, and that was truly intimidating.

The monster roared as it swung its arms around in the air. The reason for that was that it was trying to lash out at Batgirl. Like an idiot, the Batclan's leader had run full out at the monster, nimbly dodging the first swipe of one of its massive clawed hands. She did that by literally hopping onto the swinging arm and prancing up its arm until she was standing on its shoulder. She had punched it in the side of its face, no doubt using one of those special martial arts punches she knew.

The monster, however, had been unphased and began trying to grab at her. Batgirl had promptly moved onto its back, somehow clinging onto it as it tried to reach her. This only riled the monster up more, which brought them to this moment, the brown beast swinging its arms around wildly and Batgirl bobbing her head up and down over its shoulder as she somehow hung on.

"I've got a shot!" Bluebird shouted as she took aim with her taser rifle.

"Then take the shot!" Spoiler demanded, her head whipping back and forth from her blue-haired friend and the monster.

"I was telling Batgirl that, Blondie!"

"And she can take care of herself! Now shoot it!"

That seemed to be a good enough response for Bluebird as she did fire her taser rifle. The electrical blast burned through the air as it closed in on the monster. Though the beam was letting out a constant flash, Spoiler could see Batgirl getting out of its way as she flipped off of the creature's back.

In the next instant, the beam struck the monster, the sound of electrical crackling filling the air. However, this only caused the monster to drop its arms to its side and turn its head towards the two less-experienced Batclan members.

"It's not working," Spoiler said warningly.

"Like hell it's not!" Bluebird shouted back as she kept up the stream of electricity.

The monster took a lumbering step towards them. "It's not working!" Spoiler raised her voice louder.

"Just shut up and let me work!"

It took another step, growling as its lips spread open, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

"Bluebird, it's freaking not working!"

Before the blue-clad girl could retort, the monster raised up its claws and roared. This promptly caused the both of them to dart away, one heading to the left and the other to the right. Bluebird had promptly stopped firing her taser rifle as she ran, the monster slamming its hand on the ground. The claws dug into the asphalt, leaving claw marks in the pavement.

Swiftly, a batarang came flying in, striking the side of the monster's head. An explosion erupted, bathing its head in flames and smoke. Oh yeah, they had explosive batarangs! Brilliant! Spoiler reached for her belt, pulling out her own explosive batarangs. As she skidded to a step, she shuffled them all to one hand, organizing them so that she could pull them out one at a time in quick succession. Pressing her thumb into the base of the batarang as she had been taught, Spoiler activated the bomb inside the sharp metal weapon and then threw it. Over and over, she whipped her arm back and forth, throwing each explosive batarang at the monster.

It had turned its back to her by this point, so each of her explosive batarangs struck its back. An explosion went off every couple of seconds until Spoiler was empty handed. Hopefully that had—

Suddenly, the monster whipped around, letting out a thunderous roar. Its blood red eyes were focused right on the lavender-clad girl, further proved by it storming towards her.

Oh shit! Spoiler immediately turned and took off running. She didn't dare look behind her, not that she had to as she heard heavy footsteps ringing out, coming closer and closer to her. Spoiler found herself running for a parked car, one she leaped onto, sliding across the hood to reach the other side.

An instant later, the monster's fist slammed down onto the hood of the car, embedding itself in the engine. The monster snarled as it whipped its arm to a side, flipping the car out of its way. This left nothing between Spoiler and it.

This…this was not going to end well.

Thankfully, Batgirl had a say in that. Before the monster could pulverize the girl, the daughter of the Bat came flying in. She was damn near parallel to the ground, coming in low. She led with her feet, which struck the back of the monster's knee joint, causing it to buckle. The monster let out a roar of surprise, its balance completely thrown off as it toppled over onto its back. Thankfully, Batgirl had practically danced her way around it, avoiding getting crushed by its bulk.

"Go, go, go!" Batgirl shouted.

You didn't have to tell her twice, much less shout it three consecutive times. Spoiler was already running away, arms pumping at her sides. Her retreat would have been more embarrassing if she had been doing it by herself, but since her glorious leader was hot on her heels, she didn't feel nearly as bad.

However, Batgirl did skid to a stop suddenly, which caused Spoiler to slow down her own running, turning around to look at her friend. The black-dressed girl had a hand pressed to the side of her cowl. "Do it! Full power!" she was ordering.

"Coming right up!" Bluebird responded over their comms. "Here comes 1.21 gigawatts of pure Hell!"

Just so everyone knows, Bluebird's taser rifle couldn't generate 1.21 gigawatts of power. Only lightning could. The reference, though, was appreciated, meaning she was using every last bit of volt she could squeeze out of it.

Spoiler wasn't certain how much voltage that was, but suffice to say, it would be a lot.

There was a flash of light and the largest bolt of electricity Spoiler had ever seen struck the monster as it was trying to climb back onto its feet. It was damn near blinding, which the blonde girl had to raise an arm up to shield her eyes. She could hear the crackle, and the searing sounds it was making.

Yet, even as blinded as she felt, she could still see the monster moving.

"What the hell?!" she exclaimed. "What does it take to bring this thing down?!"

Ignoring being blasted with enough power to power the surrounding neighborhood for a day, the monster turned towards Bluebird and began to lumber over towards her.

"Do you have any more explosive batarangs?" Batgirl suddenly shouted towards Spoiler. Immediately, she responded by shoving her hands into her belt before she began shaking her head. She must have used them all earlier.

Immediately, Batgirl pulled out her grapple. "Get your grapple," she then ordered. "We're going to pull it down."

Well, if it was the both of them…

Spoiler yanked her grapple out. She had barely taken aim when Batgirl fired hers, the cable following behind the grapple claw until it struck the creature's back. Spoiler fired hers then, hers ending up wrapping around its neck somehow. "Ready? Pull!" her leader shouted.

And they did. The two of them pulled as hard as they could to topple the monster over. Unfortunately, it was a lot stronger than it looked, which…well, probably should have been obvious. It kept stomping forward towards Bluebird, who hadn't given up on blasting it with her taser rifle.

Then, apparently it got annoyed with the grapple lines attached to it. Raising up one of its hands, it grabbed onto the taut line around its neck and yanked on it. This caused Spoiler to suddenly be jerked forward—and by that, she meant pulled off of her feet and sent flying through the air. Somehow, she didn't crash into the monster's back, instead flying right by it. Bluebird abruptly stopped firing her taser rifle, thankfully because she didn't want to fry the blonde too.

Seeing as she was flying headfirst towards a house, Spoiler was thinking that it didn't matter if she was raw or well done when she hit the brick wall.

Just an instant before her face planted on brick and mortar, her world suddenly became a blur. The next thing she knew, she was laying on the ground next to a car. Bewildered, she blinked her eyes before she realized there was someone standing next to her, one hand on the side of the car, which they used to prop themselves against it. "So, fight magical demon monsters often?" Kid Flash nonchalantly asked. "If so, maybe we could…fight some together," he added suggestively.

That's when she felt it. A wave of nausea overpowered her and she felt her cheeks puff out. Oh God, oh no, she was going to be sick. Immediately, she rolled over, using one arm to brace herself against the ground, her other hand ripping off her mask as she puked, her vomit splattering over the asphalt.

"Dang, Kid Flash, your flirting made the poor girl sick."

"You don't know that!" Kid Flash protested. "It could have been anything!"

Spitting, Spoiler used the back of her hand to wipe her mouth before she covered it back up with her mask. She still felt nauseated, but not much. Her stomach was just churning—oh, oh no, she was still sick. No more puking, Steph. Not with the other teenage crimefighters around.

Tiredly, she raised her head up and she saw the Cyborg guy nearby. He had made his arm into a giant cannon and was taking aim with it. "Now, let me show you girls what a real cannon does," the guy proclaimed.

He never got the chance to fire. What looked like a streak of fire came swooping down from the sky, first heading downwards before arcing until it was flying parallel to the ground. It raced right for the monster, ramming right into it. The monster was sent flying through the air, sailing over the street until it crashed down on it. It bounced off of it once before it touched back down again, skidding across the asphalt as it left a crumbling trench behind it. Eventually, it slowed to a stop.

Spoiler blinked her eyes owlishly before she realized there was that red-haired alien girl hovering in midair. Cyborg seemed to have the same look on his face before he grunted, "Pfft, dang it, Star, you ruined my moment."

"Be careful all!" the Tamaranean announced loudly. "I will no longer be holding the back of my strength. You have been warned!"

Holding the back of…what? What?

The redhead then blasted forward, racing for the monster as it was beginning to shove itself back up. With a fist drawn back, she waited until the last moment before throwing it, slamming her punch on the back of its head. Immediately, its head snapped forward, striking the ground again, pieces of asphalt breaking free and jutting up into the air around its skull.

Starfire landed right above its head. Spinning around, she drew an arm back before she slammed it down again on the monster's head. Like a jackhammer, she would draw her fist back before throwing it, alternating back and forth between each arm. The very air shuddered with each hit as she pounded the beast, forcing it to sink further and further into the pavement. Larger pieces of the road broke free and began to raise up into the air.

Then, as suddenly as she started, Starfire stopped, drawing herself back. The monster just laid there, its body slumped on a piece of the road that had begun lifting it up into the air. It was damn near diagonal because of this.

Then, its body began to break apart. Black particles of dust began to rise up into the air, dissolving the monster until it was no longer there.

"Well, it seems you don't have a monster to keep fighting," Kid Flash observed. "So, what else do girls in the past do for fun?"

Aaaand the nausea was coming back. Great. Joy.

This part of the city was quiet. Almost unnaturally so. There were no screams, and there was no activity about. Yet, it looked like any ordinary street in the city. Light posts were lit up, cars were parked in designated parking areas up and down the street, many windows shined light out into the city.

But it was so quiet. The silence was almost suffocating.

The Merrymaker counseled himself, kept himself calm, and looked ahead to a large structure, a building that took up much space along the street. It was a hospital, Sacred Heart Convalescent Hospital to be precise. This was a place of healing, usually from either non-life threatening injuries that so happened to have long-term effects or to recover from illness outside of a normal hospital that was usually burdened with emergencies and life and death stakes. Convalescents was the key word here.

It was also here that Merrymaker had been told to go after appropriating the requested patient. The boy was slung over the shoulder of one of his clownish followers. A strike to the head had been hard enough to render the child unconscious so as to not listen to all the whining.

As if possessing a sixth sense that warned him not to go in, he strengthened his resolve and led the way to the hospital, his followers accompanying him reluctantly. It seemed even delusions were not powerful enough to hide one's psyche from the underlying dread this hospital seemed to emanate.

Almost casually, he thought that Sacred Heart had been closed down some years ago. Where he had heard that, he did not know, but it might be relevant. Would there be anyone waiting here for them?

Well, the automatic doors opened though the lights inside were off. Curious and foreboding. Still, he continued inside, his booted feet clacking against the linoleum floor. Several other footsteps were loud beside his, no care given if someone would hear them.

Thanks to the darkness, they almost ran into another individual, one dressed in hospital scrubs of a faded green color that it took effort from the manmade light outside to reflect against it. Merrymaker brought himself to an abrupt halt, eyes widening behind the red lens over them and his heart racing from the surprise.

"Where did he come from?" one of his followers demanded.

All of the uncertainty had been wearing on their nerves, and when stressed like this, these kinds of individuals tended to become more aggressive as a result. With more aggression came less control, but the masked man was willing to let them get it out of their system just to see what would happen.

However, the scrubs-wearing man slowly turned; it was as if effort was being used to make even the slightest motion. A face mask covered the mouth and nostrils, and cloth hat over the top of the head, which made it difficult to tell if the man's eyes were looking into his.

"Yoooou haaaaveeee theeee paaaatieeeent?" the man slurred.

Even more curious. Nevertheless, Merrymaker nodded and answered, "We do. Shall we leave him with you?"

"Thiiiiiis waaaaay."

With abrupt yet slow movements, the man in scrubs turned and began moving towards a hallway, one almost covered in darkness. His shuffling was a mere whisper compared to theirs and the masked man noticed the bags on each of the feet which rustled with each step taken. Clenching his jaw, the masked man became the follower. He didn't like this, not at all.

Further down this dark hallway, there was a light up ahead. It signaled that they were heading to something, but what was waiting for them? Their guide took a left, moving into the light, and when the remained of the League of Smiles did the same, a well-lit hallway was what greeted them.

It was all clean, appeared to be mopped and wiped down every day if you believed the smell of sterility. Then there were the other footsteps, one softened by slippers. Merrymaker became alarmed when he found that this hallway was not only lit up, but that it held traffic in. Human traffic.

They moved with the same slowness of their guide, but unlike this one, none had cloth hats or face masks on. This meant he could get a better look at their faces and began to piece together what was happening here. Gaunt faces, pallid skin, stubble all over and unkempt, and the glazed over eyes that seemed to look but not see. Moving closer to one, he was able to get a better glimpse and realized what the culprit here was.

These people were drugged. All of them. They were here physically, but mentally dulled to the point that they could only engage in menial tasks. That was precisely what they were doing. Mopping, wiping, and sweeping along with pushing carts, carrying bottles and supplies, or stocking cabinets one item at a time. It was as if they were readying this place for…something.

Briefly, he wondered what cocktail of substances were being used and where these people had come from. Despite looking unkempt, they were clean, each and every one of them, and all were dressed like hospital staff. Very curious.

Their guide seemed oblivious to it all, leading them into one hallway, then another, next a flight of stairs to the second floor, and then through more lit up hallways. Again, more staff, if that's what you could call them. None spoke to them, yet they did not moan or groan like you would expect. From caution he turned to fascination, wondering what kind of mind could come up with this.

A set of double doors was their destination, and they were pushed open by their guide. It was an operating room, one that was fully outfitted and filled with more of the drugged staff, though these ones did not have the same slowed movement. They were setting up, or finishing setting up, and all wore cloth hats and face masks. Off to the right, there was one who really stood out.

He was taller than the rest and he was having gloves pulled down over his raised hands. His posture was impeccable, ramrod straight, and there was a quiet about him, one that screamed menace.

Without looking at them, the man ordered, "Put the patient on the table."

Before he could realize what he was doing, he was already gesturing to the clown carrying the child to do as he was told. That tone had been full of authority, the kind he could respect. Who was this man?

With uncertainty, his man laid the child onto the table, and two of the staffers were there, removing the loose shirt and placing the boy onto his front. He was then maneuvered so that his head was placed over a headrest, one with a square-shaped hole in it. The young face was pressed into the hole and then legs and arms were being restrained to the operating table. A third staffer wheeled an air tank up to the table, pulling out an air mask that was then worked onto and strapped to the boy's head.

"Prepare the patient," the man in charge ordered as the second latex glove was affixed to his hand.

Scissors came out and immediately chopped into the back of the boy's head, quickly clearing out a region there. When the scissors were done, white foam coated it and a razor finished the job, leaving behind a pale patch of skin.

As this happened, the mysterious man turned around and revealed he wore more than the facemask and cloth hat as well. Around his face were bandages which obstructed any and all clues to his identity. The bandages disappeared under the hat as well, implying that they were worn all over the head.

With confident steps, the man approached his patient while one last staffer placed a stand not unlike one seen in a music hall. Placed on it were a series of papers, and from what little Merrymaker was able to make out, there were diagrams pictured on them. What was this all for?

"All unauthorized personnel must vacate immediately," the bandaged man declared. "Only qualified staff. You may wait outside until I'm done."

The doors to the operating room had remained open, but now there was a gathering of the drugged hospital staff. They stared the League of Smiles down, a dare for them to act up and give them a reason for violence. Though each worshiped the ground the Joker walked on, this experience so far was greater than their delusional minds could keep up with.

"It's alright. We'll wait," Merrymaker said, and his words seemed like all his followers needed to back out of the room, the staff parting to allow them through. He was slower to leave, casting glances back at the operating table. A tray had been placed next to the stand of papers, and a scalpel was held expertly between strong fingers.

Soon enough, Merrymaker was out and in the hallway, the doors closing behind him. His last look was of the scalpel's blade moving towards the shaved area of the child's head while the bandaged man's last words rang clearly in his mind.

"Beginning first incision."

Author's Note: The Black Sword of Mordred is something ShadowMajin made up. As far as either of us know, there is no counterpart in the comics. Though if you know your DCAU, there is a Mordred running around with his mother. How Zatanna came across this artifact is a story for another day.