Someday, someone will have to explain to me why Congress can only act quickly to do horrible and short-sighted things.
Scarcely two weeks after the quake, a congressional committee was already holding hearings to decide whether or not to even bother trying to rebuild Gotham, and they were expected to be short hearings.
While I generally consider polls useless, they can make for a reasonable predictor of politicians' actions. Kind of like astrology, you may not believe in it, but it can provide insight into the thought-processes and decisions of people who do. Our polls were, to put it mildly, not good. 91% against rebuilding Gotham in a national poll, supposedly 70% of those asked said they favored the idea of a second quake finishing us off, but that was just silly.
And the whole time, this Dr. Scratch kept filling up airtime, trash-talking my city. Yeah, research turned up that he was a celebrated psychologist, and had released two moderately successful rock albums. All well after Capricorn's creation and our parting of the ways. I threw some money at a couple of PIs to verify his background, visit his hometown and school, ask after family and friends, but that sort of thing always takes time. At this point, I was about ready to disintegrate his face on general principle.
"What is Gotham, but Scranton with gargoyles?" said the voice from the TV set.
"Vinny, did he just compare my beautiful city, the third largest on the continent, to fucking Scranton? Them's fighting words, my friend. No jury in the country would convict me for swinging at him."
Vinny seems remarkably sanguine in the face of this insult.
"You know, I think they would." He stretched out. "What's it to you anyways? Civic pride is a new look on you."
I snorted.
"That's true. But now I'm in charge of the whole mess, you may as well be proud, you know? Besides, with the hearing, our reputation matters more now than ever before. It's going to decide whether we get federal aid in rebuilding or do it ourselves."
He looked right at me.
"It really should be you going to speak, you know."
I snorted again.
"Love to. Can't. Even in some alternate world where my hands weren't overflowing with work and things needing doing, I couldn't testify in person if I wanted to. Senate Rule 23-C, the Hayden Rule, 'No person having demonstrated telepathic or mind control abilities, or similar powers of persuasion, or having ever been charged in a crime using same, shall give give oral testimony before this body.' Which is just silly. If I wanted control of the government, I'd mind-whammy just a few select members of Congress who wield disproportionate power, rather than try and control the entire group."
Vinny looks distinctly uncomfortable.
"You've, ah, thought a lot about how to mind control the U.S. government?"
"Only as a thought exercise. Lot of free time in Arkham. I also have detailed plans for a coup in every EU nation and Turkey." Also Atlantis, Themiscyra (though those two are rather speculative) and a few more I won't mention for Vinny's peace of mind.
"Okay" he took a deep breath "So, is there some way around this?"
"None that I've found thus far. They even banned Martian Manhunter from speaking before the House Meta Committee, and I have nothing like the prestige or political capital the League can bring to bear." Seriously, it's not even close. Money may talk, and the odd touch of glibness, but it's not a fraction of what you get from saving the world multiple times. "Oh, I submitted a written plea for Bruce and Marion to convey on behalf of Gotham, but it's really not the same. For starters, it's too easy for it to get misfiled somewhere down the line, or held up in weeks of testing to make sure the ink isn't some kind of potion."
"Oh."
Not really much to say after that.
"So... we're sitting back and hoping Bruce Wayne can save us all? We're doomed."
That one, I had to laugh at.
"He might just surprise you. I've long suspected the man has... hidden depths. Whether that'll be enough considering the price tag and the forces arrayed against us... I really wish we had more contacts and information inside Washington. Make a note, Vinny, if we have the time or resources later."
"Right." He seemed skeptical, but that's okay. We have a long history of detectives who mask themselves as eccentric fools and sometimes it's fun to know a secret nobody else does.
My brightening mood was spoiled somewhat by a voice from the TV set.
"I mean, come on, are we really going to ask the taxpayers to shell out two trillion dollars for a city that's never even won a pennant?" As if sports had anything to do with... anything!
Something in my ear twitched violently. It did not help my mood at all.
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Of course, I had plenty of reason to be upset. South Bridge had collapsed under the weight of refugees fleeing to Bludhaven (and what is the world coming to when people are running to Bludhaven?) and I got to see a bunch more bodies while trying to rescue any survivors with Water Eaters from City of Rats.
You know the damnedest thing? Even as some brave volunteers were sorting the living from the dead, even with warnings that the effect would last an hour or less, that it didn't reach all the way, and having to scramble over mounds of corpses and ruins of cars, a couple thousand people still took advantage of the temporary land-bridge to Bludhaven to walk out. Crazy, I know. I had to run ahead scattering tiny crystals to make it continuous and keep it open.
Then after the Parting of the Delaware Bay, I got to deal with Firefly trying to turn the large oil/gas tanks and refinery complex into a helluva big fireball. Thank goodness despite having flight he decided to walk several miles, burning everything along the way, it gave plenty of time for people to raise the alarm and find me. Oh, some GCPD officers turned up too.
"Hello, Firefly." I called out. "I know you like fire, and believe me, I sympathize. But if you hit that refinery a.) you'll die in the explosion b.) you'll hurt and kill a lot of people who are at worst incidental. How about we go to the waterfront instead, and I'll show you a pyrotechnics display the likes of which you've never seen before and never will again?"
My answer is a blast of flame.
Oh well, there are some people in this business I can relate to and talk with, but I've never been close with Garfield Lynns.
Time to see if Icingdeath lives up to the hype. I never read the Drizzt books myself, except a bit on the way here, but it came recommended. +3 sword that grants immunity to fire damage, and the ability to extinguish flames by pointing the blade. For a wizard, 80% of the battle is preparation.
The fireblast didn't hurt me as I drew the sword. I did flinch, reflexively, which I hope he didn't see.
Then I charged.
Hopefully, his view was obscured by the flames he was still hosing in my direction, but he must have sensed something amiss because before I could close, he leapt back and fired up his jetback taking him out of skewering range. Nothing is ever easy.
Well, not like I've ever been lacking in ranged firepower. The glove isn't a thing while clutching a sword, so I pull out the phaser and zap him.
Light stun appears totally useless against his thick costume. Insulated perhaps. He takes another shot at me while I fumble with the phaser settings, to no more effect than the first.
By the time I've got heavy stun up and going, the stream of nadions disperses harmlessly on his jetback while he swoops towards the cops. Dammit! I point the sword at them and the fire vanishes in midair before it touches them. Though I think they might have gotten some burns anyways. Convection and radiation are still things in the DCU, believe me, I checked. In fact, I spent a weekend once confirming that most of the laws of physics still worked as I expected, despite the existence of speed force, an emotional spectrum, primal forces of life and the like.
He pulls up, casually dodges my next two shots and the fire from the police before blitzing past me, headed for the refinery. Nope! I drop the sword and extend my white-gloved hand, and he clutches at his ears, swerving around the air a bit before driving into the pavement with an audible crack!
I bend over and recover the scimitar. Fight's not over yet, he sends another stream of fire my way while I walk up to phaser him in the face. Then I force-feed him some healing potion, and stun him again when it causes him to wake. And a few more times, just for thoroughness' sake. Tactical situation resolved for the moment, I can check up on the cops. They have minor burns, particularly the face and hands, but these are easily dealt with by a little more potion.
They take him into custody, I wonder if I can call dibs on the jetpack, now that I'm their boss and all. Eh, I'll take it up with Gordon later. While they run him in, I retrace his steps extinguishing fires left and right with Icingdeath. Hey, this thing is actually pretty... cool.
Then I got back to GCPD to find the place in a positive tizzy. Which made a lot of sense, when I heard Arkham's residency had just dropped to one.
So yeah, this was always going down in the books as a bad day, and Dr. Scratch's contributions made a fitting cherry atop the shit sundae.
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This one came out pretty rushed, but I have a big anniversary upon me, work is picking up, and a baby niece's