As Blue Beetle stood slack jawed and stared up at G'nort's big big glowing green recruitment drive sign, an armored man riding a winged horse descended from the sky. "Greetings, hero!" the rider cried out. "I am Lonar of New Genesis, and I seek solitude no longer! I wish to join your …"
"Yeah, yeah," Beetle waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever."
Beetle walked back into the Bunker, not bothering to close the front door, and returned to the main meeting room. Or rather, he tried to return but found that the corridor was filling with superheroes who made it difficult to pass through. Beetle caught a few snatches of conversation as he squeezed between various crimefighters, vigilantes, and masked men and women, and a fair number of freaks and monsters.
" - reason why you call yourself Black Spider and wear a purple and orange costume?"
" - but you see, I am Mysto, a magician AND a detective - "
" - anyone seen Geist?"
" - oh yeah, I think I saw an episode of Bloodpack once - "
" - tell you about the time I taught Superman how to stand up to General Zod - "
" - y entonces yo totalmente lo vole - "
" - someplace better than Detroit, wouldn't you think?"
" - wonder how far down that tattoo goes - "
" - Tsunami? As in, World War Two Tsunami? Shouldn't you be … older?"
Beetle finally shouldered his way into the main meeting room, where Booster quickly approached him with his arms around the shoulders of three young girls. "Blue Beetle old pal o' mine, I want you to meet the DNAngels," Booster announced. "Cherub, Epiphany, Seraph … this is Blue Beetle!"
"Charmed," Beetle deadpanned. The girls giggled. "Can I speak to you alone for a second, pal?"
Booster made a show of lookingt dejected as he disentangled himself from the DNAngels, who blew him kisses and wriggled away through the crowd. Seraph winked at Claw, a young Asian man wearing scale armor with one hand that looked as if it belonged to a purple demon, and Epiphany wiggled her hips enticingly at Hardrock, a tall, dark gray stone-skinned lad, both girls earning nasty looks from a statuesque redhead in regal green and gold battle armor.
"Holy cow, is that Maxima?" Blue Beetle asked.
"I think so," Booster confirmed. "So how about those DNAngels, huh? God bless modern science, or what passes for it in this century, at least."
"Even if we weren't about forty-seven heroes over the limit, there's no way we're going to start granting membership to teenage girls, Mike," Beetle informed him.
"Is this another Justice League Ancillary Codicil provision that I've never heard of?" Booster demanded.
Beetle said nothing.
"Come on, they're eighteen," Booster said. He considered for a moment and said "Maybe seventeen. Definitely almost eighteen."
"Uh huh."
"Doesn't everybody in this Bunker deserve a shot at joining the biggest, most powerful League ever? Regardless of technicalities like voting age?"
"What about that girl, over there? She looks more like she's fifteen."
"Who, Fever? She may be young, but she did time in the Doom Patrol. I mean, that's gotta grow you up quick."
"And what about Little Boy Blue and the Blue Boys over there?"
"They're plucky!"
"They're twelve!"
"OK, the Blue Boys are out," Booster conceded. "Maybe Fever, too. But did you get a load of Cherub's …"
"Hey, who's in charge here?" a loud voice demanded from somewhere in the thick of the crowd.
"We are not re-voting on leader just because we have a few new members," Beetle growled through gritted teeth.
"I don't think that's what they meant," Booster said. "Hey! Over here!" he beckoned.
Three of Detroit's Finest made their way through the throng to stand before Beetle and Booster. "You guys head up this … team?" the lead policeman asked.
"Just this guy," Booster said with a sideways thumb pointed at Beetle.
"Is there … some kind of problem, officer?" Beetle asked.
"You could say that," the policeman agreed. "We're looking for a perp who calls himself the Dragon King."
"Well, when you're tracking down a supervillain, especially in the Detroit area, I can understand why you'd want to enlist the help of Extreme Justice," Beetle said with a thoughtful nod. "But … heh heh heh … as you can see, we're a bit busy at the moment with a … a new screening process, and maybe if you could just leave us some information on the last crime this Dragon King committed …"
The policeman shook his head. "No, no, no. We had a line on the Dragon King and we were in pursuit on foot. We thought we had him cornered in this alley, but he disappeared. We think he's in here."
"You do, do you?" Beetle asked, trying not to sound panicked. He looked around the room, trying to pierce through the proliferation of brightly colored costumes. It was like a rainbow jungle of capes, wings, shoulder pads, more capes, battlesuits, alien physiologies, leather jackets, archaic armor, and still more capes.
Beetle felt a momentary surge of hope as he pointed out a man who seemed to be dressed as a garish or color-blind (or both) clown in a suit with clashing patterns of stripes and checks. "Is that him?"
"Uh, no, that's just Odd Man," Booster answered. "He's on the level."
"Not exactly," Beetle muttered. "Officers, if you give us a moment I'm sure we can find the Dragon King …"
"Blue Beetle," Solomon Grundy interrupted from behind, startling the three policemen. "If I may?"
"Why not?" Beetle sighed.
"Excuse me, everyone?" Grundy called out, failing utterly to cause even a single hero to lower his or her or its voice. "Your attention please?" Grundy tried again, slightly louder, failing yet again to cause any cowls, hoods, helmets or splenius capitis to turn in his direction. "LISTEN UP!" Grundy bellowed, drawing up to his full height. Even in a room jammed with exemplary and over-exemplary physical specimens, Grundy's massive corpse-like frame was an imposing sight, and his shout brought every conversation in the room to a sudden halt. All eyes turned to him. Somewhere in the back of the room, to his everlasting shame, Captain Wonder III let out an emasculated "Eep!"
"Thank you," Grundy continued in a stentorian basso. "The police have just informed us that a supervillain calling himself the Dragon King has eluded them by running into this headquarters and blending into the crowd. A diabolical stratagem, I'm sure you will agree. Since none of us knows everyone else here, we can be forgiven for not immediately recognizing the evil-doer amongst us. However, if you would now all take a moment to look around for … forgive me, officer, do you have a description of the villain?"
The lead police officer, still keeping a nervous eye on Solomon Grundy, nodded and addressed the room, "Six feet tall, yellow hood, green robe, dragon emblem …"
Quickly the sea of bodies parted. Five regular swords, two energy swords, nine energy blasters, thirteen varieties of handguns and rifles of various calibers, twenty sharpened talons, six fists crackling with power, four hands in the poses of different martial arts styles, a couple of crossbows, six more fists backed up with phenomenal super strength, and no less than three different cosmic gemstones were suddenly pointed at a lone, isolated figure in a green dragon-emblazoned robe and a yellow hood.
"Oh, curses," the Dragon King said sadly.
"Um, great job, everyone!" Blue Beetle said hurriedly, feeling a cold sweat on the back of his neck at the thought of all those blades, bullets, arrows, energy weapons, flame projections, electrical projections, shadow projections, psionic projections, and glowing gemstones being used at once and seriously undermining the structural integrity of the Bunker with collateral damage. "Let's, uh … let's let the cops do their job and take the Dragon King into custody, all right? All right! Great!"
The Dragon King surrendered himself willingly enough to the police officers and allowed himself to be escorted out, practically dragging two policemen along in his hurry to remove himself from the business end of all the swords and guns and glowing fingertips and so on. Blue Beetle relaxed slightly, until the third policeman stopped on his way out somewhere between Jonni Thunder and a striking orange-skinned, white haired woman in space-faring leathers. "Y'know," the policeman said, "I always thought that these superhero teams could use a few more legitimate law enforcement types on their rosters. I been thinking for a long time about how I could do it. See, I'd call myself Patrol-Man, and I got this buddy who could rig me up these atomic handcuffs …"
Beetle turned away, ashamed of himself for even thinking the term 'space-faring leathers'.
Beetle looked for Booster, who was of course still standing close by, staring out proudly over the crowd. "Didja ever notice," Booster asked, "how everyone always says 'Jemm, Son of Saturn'? It's never just 'Jemm'. Nobody ever says his name without his title, no matter how awkward the sentence construction ends up."
"Can't say I ever noticed that," Beetle acknowledged.
"It's, like, 'Hey, we're going to need the help of Jemm, Son of Saturn!' or 'Isn't it Jemm, Son of Saturn's turn to unclog the toilet?' So bizarre."
"Like I said, I never noticed."
"Wonder if I could get people to do that for me, and always call me 'Booster Gold, Master of Excitement' or 'Booster Gold, Idol of Millions'?"
In passing, Fire added, "How about 'Booster Gold, Son of a …'"
"Mike, come on," Beetle pleaded. "Surely now even you will acknowledge that this is all too much."
"All right, fine, I'll just stick with plain old Booster Gold."
"No! I mean, yes, stick with that. But the Bunker is bursting at the seams with heroes, I think there's a few entire teams that have showed up and want to be wholly incorporated in the Extreme Justice roster, and we just can't possibly handle a seventy-nine person team!"
"Eighty-one," Booster amended. "I decided to count G'nort and the turtle-y looking Omega Man after all. Streaky's still just a cat though."
"I strongly suspect you are missing my point."
"Ted, what do you want me to tell you? We just witnessed the first ever case of the brand new, biggest and bestest Extreme Justice of all time!"
"We did?"
"Yes! The apprehension of the Dragon King after he tried to infiltrate our secret headquarters!"
"Um, the secret's pretty much out, Mike."
"Still, do you want to be the guy who has to tell all those heroes who were instrumental in capturing the Dragon King that they actually didn't make the cut and aren't on the team?"
"I think they'll all survive."
"But will we? With our reputations intact, I mean? Or will we be known forever as that team that accepts the help of willing recruits when we need it and then turns them out in the cold?"
"I'm not so sure we needed the help. The Dragon King doesn't even have any powers! If he did he wouldn't have needed to hide in here!"
"Excuse me," said the policeman who had been pitching his superhero concept to Jonni and the female alien. From the look on his face the idea had not been terribly well-received. "We appreciate your assistance in collaring the Dragon King, but I'm afraid I still need to give you this." He handed Beetle a small sheet of paper.
"What's this?" Beetle asked.
"Citation for violating city ordinance four-oh-five-point-seven, no livestock or farm animals allowed to be housed or stabled in residential or commercial buildings in this zone of the city."
"Farm animals?" Beetle's eyes widened.
"The winged horse in the other room," the policeman explained.
"Winged … what, that Lonar guy's? That horse doesn't actually live here!"
"Well it seems to be making itself at home," the policeman smirked. "If you know what I mean. Good luck with that." He tipped his hat and left. Beetle's fists shook with rage at his side, crumpling the ticket.
"Hey," Booster said, putting a collegial hand on Beetle's shoulder, "those New Gods seem like stand up guys. I'm sure Lonar will clean up his winged horseapples before he takes off …"
"Not the point!" Beetle exploded. "It's not bad enough that our base, which in many ways is like our home, is now being treated like a stable. But it is absolutely infested with every B and C and D and F list hero I've ever heard of, not to mention heroes I've never heard of, not to mention aliens of unknown origin, not to mention children of indeterminate but almost certainly non-legal ages, not to mention several World War Two heroes who should be a lot older AND" - Beetle pointed at a figure in a simple black cowl and cape, white shirt and tan breeches, carrying a rapier - "if that is the Black Pirate he not only should be WAY older but he should have been dead since about 1591!!!"
"Wow, you skipped from World War Two all the way back to the days of the Spanish Armada," Booster commented. "You bopped right over the Twister Twins over there, from circa 1875. That particular time anomaly doesn't blow your mind?"
Beetle's head and shoulders slumped in resignation. "I need a drink."
"Now you tell me. I put yours down a while ago and I think it got snagged by the Bogman from the Creature Commandos. Or possibly one of the Ravers," Booster lamented. "There's still some KooeyKooeyKooey Kolada left in the pitcher, though."
"Where's the pitcher?" Beetle asked.
"Upstairs bathroom," Booster answered.
"Why is it in … no, don't wanna know, don't wanna know," Beetle waved off any attempted explanation and made his way through the press of costumed bodies toward the stairs. He circumnavigated a comparison of battle scars between El Diablo, Nightblade and Luke McKendrick. He ducked under the barrel-sized triceps of the second Patchwork Man. Finally he reached the stairway and found Streaky cradled in Pantha's arms, and was somehow deeply disturbed by the satisfaction the Kryptonian feline seemed to deriving from having his head stroked by the sensuous mutant cat-lady. Beetle steeled himself and walked past, mounting the stairs.
There were a few more superheroes in the upstairs corridor, but Beetle stopped registering them consciously. Everything had become a blur of masks and insignias and stylized weapons and floppy boots. He traversed the hallway, entered the bathroom, and closed the door.
True to Booster's word, a large plastic pitcher was resting on the tank on the back of the toilet. Beetle half expected the pitcher to be glowing, humming, smoking, or some combination of all three, but it appeared to be a perfectly normal pitcher. Beetle approached the toilet and lifted the pitcher. He looked around guiltily, despite being alone in the bathroom, then raised the pitcher to his lips and tipped it awkwardly.
Without warning the shower curtain was flung open, causing Blue Beetle to gargle a yelp, spray KooeyKooeyKooet Kolada and drop the pitcher on the bathmat, splattering it with sticky bright red beverage. Standing in the bathtub, and evidently responsible for the abrupt snapping open of the shower curtain, were three men and one woman, all wearing day-glo red wetsuits, round diving facemasks, and S.C.U.B.A. apparatus.
"Sea Devils reporting for duty with Extreme Justice!" the diver in the middle announced jauntily. One of his colleagues waved his harpoon gun.
"Noooooooooooooooooo!!!" Beetle wailed, clutching the sides of his skull as the spring-loaded ricocheting brass knuckles made a return appearance with an insistent thud-thud-thud …
… THUD-THUD-THUD "Ted? Ted are you all right in there?" Fire called out.
Ted Kord sat up in his bed in the Bunker. He felt dizzy and disoriented, as if he had just woken up from a terrible dream, which was totally in keeping with the fact that he had, in fact, just woken up from a terrible dream. He shrugged on his bathrobe and hurried to the door.
Blue Beetle threw open the door and saw Fire standing opposite him. "Bea!" he gasped. "Are you alone?"
Fire made an exaggerated show of looking up and down the otherwise empty hallway. "As far as I know …" she replied, cocking an eyebrow quizzically.
"Oh, thank God," Beetle sighed heartily. I was just having the strangest dream … practically a nightmare …"
"Poor thing," Fire said with a notable lack of actual sympathy. "I'm sure someone else would love to hear all about your dream, maybe later, but right now there's someone on the communicator who needs to talk to you."
"About what?"
"About joining Extreme Justice, of course," Fire said.
Once again, all Beetle could do was stare.
TO BE CONTINUED ...??? Who knows? You'll have to keep coming back to FauxDC to find out!!!
