Pantheon Comics #14: Dark Olympus

Final digest by OzBat!

Editor's Note: This story takes place in parallel with the events of Scatterday

Chapter 1: Through the Looking Glass...

(by Wet Willie)

Welcome to K Street. It's populated with scumbags, criminals, and the most wretched
individuals this Earth has to offer. Those on this street that aren't evil, hateful, and
cruel...the good people...live in terror from one minute to the next, burrowed away in
their dark little holes like animals. The filth in this community pours out into the
neighbourhoods surrounding. No, the evil cannot be contained by K Street, it leaks into
the city.

The city.

Washington, DC The capitol of the free world.

In this world, villains congregate. Unopposed, they run amok. What little opposition they
do encounter is obliterated. The only thing that's slowed them, thus far, is the will of the
people. That's right, the U.S. government.

Frustrated by their inability to wrest control of the country from its seat of power, one
man begins his search for the most dastardly and despicable super-crooks he can find to
help him with his goal. Alone and covered in darkness, he sits in his hideaway. A monitor
mounted into a computer console sheds some feeble light onto the man. A black shadow
is cast on the wall. It's in the shape of...

A fedora.

The Black Hat turns to face the monitor. He speaks.

"redWrath, Maniaq. It's good to see you again. You're still partners, I see."

The voices that came from the monitor's speakers responded with insincere greetings.

"Yes, yes. Let's get down to business." The Black Hat began. "I need to know something
from you gentlemen. Can I be assured I'll have your cooperation?" The Black Hat was
smug.

"You'll have our cooperation when we are assured we'll get the money," redWrath replied,
hushing the Maniaq, who was impatiently trying to talk, "Give us the money. Huh. Give
us the money!!"
"Gentlemen, we're going to be taking over the world here. There will be plenty of money
in that." The Black Hat paused, checking to see their reaction. It was favorable. Just as
he'd suspected. "Are you in Washington?"

"Yes. We're ready. We'll come when you call. You know how to contact us."

"Fine, then. Pleasure dealing with you as always, Ricky." Black Hat switched off the
monitor screen. He had a guest.

A large, bald man with an eyepatch stormed in. "Sir? Intruders! Mayhaps I--"

"Henry, let them in. I've been expecting them."

Utgaard Henry, The Godling of War exited the room. He re-entered a few moments later.
With him was a Martian and...someone else.

"Good God! I'd heard he was nasty, but I had no idea!" exclaimed the Black Hat, eyeing
the stranger.
"Hello, J'onn."

* Yes, my companion is quite the...yes. I'm not sure just what he is. I think I can get him
to tell you for himself. Maximum Deathblood? * the Martian prodded.

"....." The stranger said nothing, as if the words just wouldn't come to him. He was
massive. Out of proportion, even. A tiny head sat on top of over-muscled shoulders.

"Well, that's quite all right, Max. Why don't you let Henry show you to your quarters?"

"....."

"Henry? Take Maximum Deathblood upstairs please."

"Verily. Let's go, silent one." The Godling of War and the monstrosity that was Maximum
Deathblood surveyed each other. They were both...uneasy. They left the room.

"J'onn, have you had a chance to think about my offer?"

*Yesss. I. Have. It sounds like we're going to strike a deal, Mr. Chapeau!* The two
laughed sinisterly.

The Black Hat became serious. "And have you made the arrangements with the others we
discussed?"

*Most of them are already here! They're waiting simply for a signal.* The Martian was
tingly with excitement. All the brains in a two-block radius were stimulated.
"Oooh. J'onny, cut that out! You dog." Black Hat paused. "Okay. Tell them we're ready to
meet. There are a few latecomers, but we really must get started."

*As you wish!* The Martian's emotions were transmitting. The Black Hat could read
J'onn's eagerness. This was good.

***

Outside, a few blocks away.

"My purse! THAT MAN STOLE MY PURSE!" cried an elderly woman.

A fat, balding man stuck his head out the window. "Hey, Lady! Don't ya know it's safer ta
just SHUT UP about it?! How long you been livin' here, anyways? Geez!"

The woman became angry. "It's attitudes like that that have made the crime in this city
escalate!"

A whizzing sound is heard coming from high above.

"Why can't one of you quit hiding and be brave?!"

The sound grows louder.

"Why must DECENT PEOPLE BE AFRAID?! WHERE ARE THE HEROES?!"

And louder. It's almost like the sound a man falling from the sky would make.

"THIS TOWN NEEDS A HER--**"

SPLAT! "Oooof! Sorry about that, ma'am! Hatman at your service. How can I be of
assistance?"

"ThAt mAn StOLe mY puRsE."

Chapter 2: On the Dark Side...

(by Pureheart (Joe Grendel))

Earth E
Washington, DC
1602 K Street, NW
The Brass Lamp
Joe Grendel fumbled with his keys, glancing up and down the street. No one bothered
him, nor the bar. He wished it was for the right reasons, but it wasn't.

He found the right key and unlocked the door, sighing. Elizabeth had cried when he'd left,
saying that something terrible was going to happen to him, that K Street wouldn't keep
letting him go.

He stepped into the dim bar, finding the lights, flipping them on. Bar, fish tank, pool
tables, jukebox, tables, booths. All as he left them, all unmolested.

Closing the door behind him, he headed for the bar, grabbing an apron. Then, wetting a
rag, he began wiping everything down. The boss hated even a speck of dust in the place.

Joe's hair was pale blond, the fine texture of a child's, and hung in straight locks to his
shoulder. His eyebrows were white, above pale blue eyes. A small silver cross sits upon
his left earlobe. He wore a black "Mean People Suck" T-shirt, with bleached-white jeans
and jeans jacket. A chain, with a cross, Star of David, ankh and a crescent-and-star, hung
about his neck. A sword belt was slung across his back, and a pistol was holstered at his
hip. His eyes shone with idealism, undimmed by his labor.

Grendel had long known, long thought, that doors open in life, and if one didn't go
through them, they would close forever, the opportunities vanishing. What would have
happened, for instance, if he'd asked out the pretty girl in his freshman art class 10 years
ago, the girl with the braces and the pale green eyes, who walked to class barefoot and
whose hair smelled of incense? Life, perhaps, would have been entirely different.

A door unentered. Then, several years later, while still in college, a door had been thrown
open and he had been all but dragged through.

His father was killed in the line of duty. A shining being -- he hesitated to call her an
"angel," even now -- had appeared before him, informing him that nothing he'd believed
had been true. His father hadn't been an ordinary FBI agent, but one of the secretive Men
In Black who fought the supernatural menaces of the world, a mission he would have to
accept himself now. His father had died at the hands of a Nachtsloch, a living gateway to
Hell.

He took the charge willingly. Had he been there, he knew, he could have saved his
father ...

At her touch, his eyebrows had turned white and he had been bodily lifted up, his cells
singing with energy. He was stronger, faster, more vigorous than the ordinary human.
She'd given him a holy sword and a pistol filled with blessed bullets. And a name. He was
now to face evil, driving it from the Earth, as "Pureheart." He was a superhero in a world
that desperately needed them.
He had left southwest Virginia -- where he'd faced down the Wampus Cat, the Barbour
County mummies and more -- a year ago, when a colorful figure had appeared in the
streets of Washington, DC. He'd joined his quest to drive the supervillains from the city,
mere blocks from the White House.

Pureheart had joined the Pantheon willingly, helping them face the villains who seemed
to grow like crabgrass in this dingy town. They had been forces of good, bringing light
into a dark world. They had been, he thought, superheroes.

Grendel, his wiping finished, dropped the rag into a behind-bar sink and opened the door
to the back room.

Cigar smoke puffed out and he stuck his head into the dimly lit, painfully hot room.

"I don't care what his [fornicating] problem is!" the little creature in the seat shoved his
derby forward and glared into the videomonitor. "You tell Black Hat if he wants his
intelligence information, he'll pay for it ... dearly!"

The female presence standing behind the imp could be a model. Her fine cheek bones,
wide eyes, pale red hair. But of course Shirad was also wreathed in flames that were
harmless if she wished it.

"Do you need something, Joseph?" Her eyes were the only cold feature on her. The two
of them, joint owners of the bar, revelled in their inhumanity.

"N-n-no. Just checking to see you're here before I turn on the jukebox. I'll keep it down."
He closed the door.

He thought the Pantheon were heroes. He'd been very, very wrong.

And he didn't know if he could ever put it right.

Chapter 3: Secrets and Light

(by The Scarlet Rob)

Earth E
Washington, DC
K Street

The Illuminatrix had not been a superhero for very long.

She might not have been a superhero at all, were it not a matter of family responsibility.
When her uncle, the Illuminator, was viciously slain by some of the world's most
dangerous super-villains, she felt honor-bound to don the "Glowing Gauntlets" in his
stead, if only to bring his murderers to justice.
In her hand she held what appeared to be her first clue - an anonymous note, written the
old-fashioned way, with glued-on letters cut from magazines:

"IMPORTANT INFORMATION REGARDING YOUR PREDECESSOR'S DEATH.

DARE NOT MEET IN PUBLIC. PLEASE COME ALONE. 10 PM - " The note ended
with an address - a little-used alleyway intersecting K Street.

The Illuminatrix had not been a superhero for very long, but she was no dimbulb. She
knew perfectly well the anonymous note smacked of a set-up, but she couldn't afford to
let any possible lead slip by.

The Girl of Glare stood at the mouth of the alley, shivered, and squinted into the
shadows. She raised her gloved hands and illuminated every nook and cranny with beams
of light, turning darkest night into brightest day. Scrutinizing the alley intently and
satisfying herself that no danger could possibly hide therein, she took a step forward.

The Incandescent Ingenue was suddenly struck hard in the face by something unseen. She
staggered back and put a hand to her lip; it was bleeding.

"Oopsy!" said a cold falsetto voice. The Illuminatrix swung at the air, even though she
could see no one. Something grabbed her hair from behind and yanked her head back
roughly; her feet were knocked out from under her and she fell hard.

A pair of high-heeled boots appeared before her. She looked up to see a tall, feminine
figure in a black leather corset, g-string, and high-heeled boots over fishnet stockings, all
set off by heavy make-up and long, wavy auburn hair.

"The Secret Victoria!" Illuminatrix gasped, as she struggled to return to her feet.

"Glad you've heard of me," the assailant said, lifting the Maid of Morning back up and
then vanishing. Illuminatrix took another hard blow to the chin, but this time, at least, she
was expecting it. She waited a half-second, then turned and threw a punch behind her,
only to meet empty air again.

An arm pinned her throat, and the voice hissed in her ear, "Don't you just wish I were that
predictable?" The Illuminatrix was spun around again to find herself face-to-face with
The Secret Victoria's now-visible sneer...

"That 'Adam's apple'!" Illuminatrix gasped. "Poppin' flashbulbs! You're not a real
woman!"

"Sorry to disappoint you!" 'Victoria' growled, his hands circling the Illuminatrix's throat
as he disappeared from view. The Unseen Drag Queen kissed the Sunrise Siren lightly on
the forehead, then whispered in her ear, "I guess you were hoping for that big, strong
amazon number! You'd love to know why they call it 'Paradise' Island, wouldn't you?"
"No," Illuminatrix choked out, "But thanks for letting me know your weak spot..."

The Lady of Luminescence brought her knee up sharply in front of her. She heard a
startled gasp and felt her neck released. She quickly backed away as The Secret Victoria,
cursing and coughing, popped into view.

"Bad, bad Illuminatrix!" Victoria rasped. "I think it's time for you to learn Victoria's
other secret..."

The Illuminatrix watched, shocked, as the villain's form appeared to melt, then grew and
solidified into a large, scaly reptile with long legs and huge, sharp claws.

"A big 'V-snap up' for the Secret Velociraptor," the dinosaur said, waving one paw in a
wide 'V' above his head as he snapped his claws with a loud *SNIKT!*

"I - I didn't know you could do that!" the Illuminatrix gasped.

"Those who find out never live to tell... The Illuminator, for example!"

"You! You were one of them! You killed my uncle!" Outraged, the Fulgent Female lifted
her hands and fired a pulse of brilliant light directly into the eyes of her reptilian foe.

Momentarily blinded, the enraged velociraptor snarled, "I don't need to see you to gut
you like a fish, [witch]! Now say goodnight, sunshine!" he roared, charging forward with
claws scissoring the air.

Her heart pounding, the Illuminatrix held her ground momentarily, then leapt aside at the
last possible second. The Secret Velociraptor rammed head-first into a brick wall, then
slumped to the ground unconscious with a faint moan.

"Dumb@$$ shoulda stayed invisible," the Illuminatrix concluded. "I guess it's true what
they say about the dinosaurs having tiny brains!"

Chapter 4: Yeah, This is the Jester [Explicit Content]

(by The Jester)

Earth E
New York, NY
An Apartment in the Village

The trim man sat on the floor. Across from him was a tall, lovely young lady. Around
them was a red circle, five black candles, and red lines between the candles.
"Are you sure about this, Joe?" the girl asked.

"Of course. Would I hurt you?" he gave a coy, self-depreciating smile.

"You're right. You couldn't hurt me if you tried!"

"They don't get much wimpier than me!" he laughed. "Now lay down."

They embraced and kissed passionately. There was a bit of rolling around, and the girl
closed her eyes and let out a small sound.

Her eyes were closed. She didn't see the knife. And what a knife she didn't see. It was
carved intricately and covered with gems. It was a shimmering black, that almost glowed.

Joe thrust it into her. Her screams were rendered inaudible, for he was still kissing her. He
twisted the knife until her struggle abruptly ended. He ended his kiss and sat up. His
mouth was covered with blood. He spat out part of her tongue. Slowly he disrobed her.
He took out the knife and began carving something on her face. His watch began
beeping.

"[Defecation]! WHAT?!?" he said.

"Jester?" said the voice coming from his watch.

"No, it's Bea Arthur!"

"Cut the [defecation]. Das Capitan wants you. Now."

"Fine. I'll be right there." The Jester smiled. Ah, Das Capitan. What a magnificent
specimen. I must play the "lackey" for now. It will take time to break this one. Besides, in
the mean time, he/she's a great [copulation]."

The Jester stepped into another pentagram and disappeared.

Chapter 5: Playing for Keeps.

(by Raymond Cox)

Earth E
Washington, DC
K Street

Exactly seven blocks from The Brass Lamp, barely stands a decaying warehouse. People
that dare to walk by thinks that Washington's building inspectors should have condemned
and demolished it long time ago. But if they actually came close to inspect it, they would
find high quality steel reinforcing the walls; phoney rust-covered locks and rotten wood
planks on top of steel doors. Even the debris is carefully placed in a random-like order.
Darkness erupts from every corner. Rats, spiders and all kinds of vermin inhabit its
premises. No one dares to come in. No one who has entered has ever come out (well, at
least not in one piece).

Beneath the buildings, there is a large room. If you went to the building archives and
looked for that particular room on the blueprints of the building, you would not find it.
Someone has taken many steps to insure its existence is not known to no one but himself.
Some would call it a War Room, for it was well illuminated, and filled with maps of the
streets of Washington; detailed underground drawings and maps of K Street and
surrounding areas, computers and monitors. Cabinets are filled with papers, pictures and
notes, painstakingly ordered and all information accurate. The walls were covered a long
time ago by a layer of every assault weapon known to man. And then some known only
to fiends, hellspawns and high lords of Chaos and Order.. Some would call it a dungeon,
for inside this room many had perished in most foul ways. Others a madhouse, the ninth
circle of Hell.

This man calls it home. His name is Raymond Cox. He's a special agent working for an
obscure branch from one of the C.I.A.'s most feared divisions: Super Human Control.

"Surveillance of sector B complete Analysis on The Secret Victoria completed. She has
been revealed to be the Secret Velociraptor. Shapeshifting power, invisibility, superhuman
strength and tough hide. Weak Spots: kicks and punches bellow the belt." He studied the
monitors once more. "Illuminatrix boosts her own power when cornered. Good. Weak
Spots: she's too trusting and easy to deceive."

His concentration was broken by an almost silent moan. He checked his watch. And
smiled. He stood up from his chair and walked to the far end of the room. It was the only
part which was stripped bare of weapons, cabinets and computers. It only had a chair.
Today that chair was occupied by a man, wearing only tatters over a red and blue chain-
mail uniform.

"So, you finally awoke. Good. I was beginning to think that I had been to hard on you."

The white haired stranger barely looked up. Both of his eyes were swollen shut. His lips
were covered with dried and not-so-dried blood. "Please - let me-" He was cut off by a
left cross. "SHUT UP!" The white haired stranger's head jerked back from the impact. He
tried for the tenth time to shatter his bonds with the remains of his super strength, but to
no avail. He had only succeeded in making the cuts on his wrists deeper.

"Now, my geriatric friend, you will tell me why did you arrive to K Street."

The old man shuddered. He had lost track of the times he answered that question and the
agent had punched him for not liking what he said. "I - I came here to - lead a normal
life."
The blow came and went like the others. He could not even see it this time. He only felt
it. Hard, unmerciful. The red from his blood had mixed with his uniform. He remembered
his capture. He had just stepped down from the train that had taken him from the west
coast to Washington when suddenly he was intercepted by this man. Using some strange
weapon he had negated almost all of his mutant powers and had dragged him to the
warehouse. Then the torture began.

"Please, Eric. Don't try to make a fool out of me. I hate that. Trapeze Girl was the last one
to make fun of me. Between my knife and the rats there's not much left of her. So talk.
And I'd better like what I hear."

Eric swallowed hard. "I came to K Street to retire"

"YOU'RE LYING!" Raymond's voice hit him like a physical blow. So did his fist. A
trickle of blood flowed from his mouth. "You can't come to K Street to retire! There are
enough superbeings around to destroy the whole planet!" He walked around him with an
evil grin and moved towards the nearest cabinet. He opened it and took a vicious looking
dagger and returned to Eric's side. Then gently, he sliced off Eric's earlobe. Eric screamed
in pain. He trembled visibly as his blood gushed from the wound. "Talk fast or your
eardrum is next."

Eric was breathing hard now; panic was eating him up. At the beginning he had been
surprised when Cox's punches had left him worse for wear. He had not used his powers to
nullify his punches. He was counting on Cox to see his intentions were good and that he
meant what he said. But when he approached with the dagger and sliced his earlobe, he
had tried to erect his impenetrable force field to stop him. It was then when he realized he
was completely powerless.

"Surprised? Don't be. This place has more secrets than you white hairs." He licked the
blood from the blade. "I love the taste of fear in the blood."

He moved the tip of the dagger closer to Eric's left ear. "You were saying?"

It was then when Eric broke. "okay - okay - I'll tell you why I'm here-" Cox smiled and
dropped the dagger. "Talk."

Eric closed his eyes and breathed. "I was summoned here by-" he moved his head side to
side, as if he was debating whether or not uttering another word. "-by Black Hat."

Cox's eyes lit up. "I like it! You see? You can be pretty cooperative when you put your
mind to it. And?"

"He wants to - he wants to take over the world."

"Isn't he a regular Snowball and Pinky" Cox tapped his forehead with his fingers. "And
how does he proposes to achieve that particular goal?"

"He wants to rally all kinds of powered beings to help him. He wants to build an army
which can wipe the flatscans from power and erect himself the leader of the world."

"And he needs you to do that? Even The Yellow Pages could have turned you into
pudding."

"I'm supposed to meet him tonight at 11:00 on his headquarters. He said that then and
only then he would discuss further plans with me."

Cox put the dagger away and walked around Eric. "You have been most cooperative. I
pity the fact that you were not this open from the beginning. You could have saved
yourself a lot of pain and anguish. Not to mention that you'd have more space on your
right ear to put an earring. Is that all you will say to me?"

"Yes - I know nothing more. He said nothing more to me. Honest."

"Well, in that case, I have no more use for you."

Eric breathed, relieved. "This means I can go?"

Cox laughed ever so slightly. "No. It means that I have no more use for you. And I always
get rid of the trash." He took the dagger and approached Eric. "good-bye , Magneto."

"NOOOOO!"

Of course, Raymond Cox's room is also completely soundproof.

Chapter 6: Keeping the Faith

(by hellgirl)

Earth E
The North Pole

Arctic winds nip and tear at each other, tumbling across the barren plain. The snow
stretches in all directions, cold and unforgiving. Few creatures dare the embrace of the
bleak northern waste, and little of it has ever seen the footprint of man. It is a lonely
place.

Near one featureless icy plateau is a solitary outcropping. It stands apart from its rocky
brethren, strangely out of place. Were any living being nearby, they might wonder at the
polished golden metal visible here and there beneath the mounting snow. The outcropping
is in the rough form of a giant arrow. Its massive head points at the wall of the nearby
plateau, where an opening is visible midway up the stone face. An imaginative person
might call it a keyhole.

Behind it is the impregnable fastness of the greatest hero known to this world. Visitors
from another dimension might recognize it as the Fortress of Solitude.

Excelsior turned from the window as the gentle sound of claws clicking on the polished
stone floor came up from behind. Krypto stopped beside him, glanced out at the empty
wasteland, settled himself to the floor. Excelsior scratched him behind one ear and
sighed.

"Yes, I know. There's no use browbeating myself. I just wish there were something I
could have done."

The dog gave him a knowing look.

"It doesn't get any easier, no matter how many times you go through it."

Excelsior took one last glance through the narrow portal, then turned and walked down
the stairs and out into the Trophy Room. Behind him the window alcove shimmered and
then vanished. The stairs followed moments later. He switched powers almost without
thinking as they crossed the massive chamber, used Night Man's abilities to eliminate his
fatigue, then changed to Animal Man's powers to make it easier to communicate with his
friend. They passed the Fantasticar, the first suit of Iron Man's armor, and Metron's chair,
and stopped at the newest addition, the statue of Heavengirl. It was a perfect likeness: the
beatific expression on her innocent yet determined face, the frilly blue skirt, the bobby
socks. A plaque at its base read "IN MEMORIAM". Excelsior was about to move on
when a man in a long, dark overcoat materialized out of thin air just a few feet away.

"Who's this?" said the stranger, brushing some dust off of his gloves.

"Heavengirl. You haven't met her yet, because to you she's already dead," Excelsior told
him. "She'll sacrifice herself to save the lives of innocents threatened by the Pantheon."

"A shame," remarked the man. "You're going to need all the help you can get, pretty soon.
Things are going to get rather nasty."

"They've gotten dark already. The Illuminator was murdered, along with Captain
Constructo. You'll meet them as you travel back in time. Utgaard-Henry took out the
Grape Ape in New York last month, and I had to use the Manhattan Powers to save
Johnny B. Good from Metachron. I'm trying to organize some kind of resistance, but
people are afraid to face the Pantheon."
Krypto barked in agreement.

"Well, there may be a light at the end of the tunnel. You should have some help soon from
an unexpected source." The visitor checked his watch. "I have to go. But organizing the
remaining heroes seems to be the best move. Hang in there."

"Wait - you know how this all turns out," said Excelsior. "Is there really any hope?"

"You know that my long-term memory is terrible. I don't remember how all this started -
er, ends, from your perspective. But you're the True Believer. You have to have hope."
With that, the man adjusted his hat and vanished as quickly as he had come.

Excelsior frowned for a moment. "Looks like things are just going to get worse, old
friend," he said. "Come on. Time to get to work."

The next room served as his communications center. It was filled with every imaginable
supercomputer and communications device, all jammed in next to each other. There was a
good deal of Legion tech, some of Reed Richard's' equipment, gear from the Batcave and
SHIELD, and several pieces of alien technology whose function was not immediately
apparent. A Zyxometer kept tabs on crime and emergencies all over the planet, but with
the current crisis he'd had to let a lot of those go. He activated the nearest monitor, one of
the Justice League's database systems, and called up the first name on his list. Ladybug
answered almost immediately.

"Good, Inc., how can I - oh, hi Excelsior. I was expecting you."

"I just had another visit from the Timewalker. Looks like there's a storm headed our way,
but he mentioned there might be a ray of light in there somewhere."

"Did our walking plot device give any specifics?"

"No - you know how he is: lots of foreshadowing, little substance. Still, every bit helps.
Has Osiris had any luck with the Stern Regulars?"

"I don't know. He and Bankshot are in Ashland right now trying to track down the Free-
Breeder. I should be hearing from him soon, though."

"Let me know when you do. I just got a report from Houdini, and the Pantheon is
definitely up to something."

"I'll keep you posted."

"Thanks." He borrowed Batman's keen intellect for a moment, then punched up the next
person on his agenda.

"Hello and welcome to the Ben Dover Lounge. Would you like to take advantage of our
limited time two-for-one special?"

"Very funny, Mystery Guest. Any news?"

"Grendel just opened up, but so far the place is pretty quiet - no one else has gone in or
out."

"Keep watching. Agent Morrison has confirmed that the meeting is on. The government
is willing to help in any way they can. They can't risk being publicly connected with us,
though, for fear of reprisals."

"Understandable. It's good to know they're on our side."

"Politicians are heroes, too, even if they don't have superpowers. Let me know if anything
changes."

"Will do, boss. Over."

Excelsior rubbed Krypto's head and checked the next item on his agenda. So much to do,
so little time to do it. There were powers he could use to see into the future, but he
disliked the effects they had on his mind and emotions. A sense of fatalism was not
something he could afford - especially not at a time like this. He decided to check the All-
Seeing Eye of Agamotto once he got done here.

He pressed another button and the screen came to life again with the image of one of the
K Street Liberation Front's best assets.

"Hi-ho, Kermit the Frog here. Hello, Excelsior."

"I need to see you - the usual place and time."

Chapter 7: From Saint to Sinner

(by redWrath)

The North Pole . . .

Excelsior had just finished his shower when he heard something. He rushed to his living
room faster than a speeding bullet and leapt over the couch in a single bound. Naked and
still dripping water, he fell to his knees . . . crying!!!

"The President of the United States has been murdered!!!" confirmed the newscaster.
Earth E . . .
K Street . . .
CHEEKS, the Whore House Where Everybody Knows Your Name.

A large well-built handsome figure holding a briefcase entered the joint. He stood in the
entry way, not quite sure about what to do next. His presence commanded attention. He
hardly made personal appearances because of that. Still, he quickly probed the room
never taking respect for granted. The place was empty. One dancer was making love to a
bottle while a junkie stumbled along the stage. The bartender gave him a nervous smile
and swiftly left the premises.

"...[bzzz]... Are you reading this? ...[bzzz]"

"Loud but not clear" answered the man, "Are you sure you have my back covered?"

"...[bzzz]... Your bullet proof vest is on her way.... [bzzz]", replied a voice from the man's
ear piece.

" Is she any good?"

"...[bzzz].... She's the best!!! I never complain!!! ....[bzzz]..."

From behind the stage appeared a fem. She strolled towards the man while modeling an
amazing negligee; that emphasized her well-defined body while perfectly hiding some
scars. She had a beautiful face for someone who had sinned a lot.

"I'm expecting a client" said the man.

"Your booth is right this way" responded a sultry voice. She then escorted the man to a
dark corner. The booth was strategically positioned so that the man could scope all four
corners of the room. As an extra bonus, the owner had dimmed the lights thus providing
him with the all concealing shadows he craved. His, was one of the few booths that had a
window exactly above the table.

The man sat down first. The woman quickly followed. She then advanced to caress his
thighs while biting his ear. Steadfast, the man proceeded to open his portable computer.

His screen showed the following:

PINE 3.95 FOLDER INDEX Folder: INBOX Message 17 of 94 NEW

From: Subject: Status: 1 Feb 5

Beau (3,317) "Scatterday" Pending 2 Feb 5
del Pino (5,217) Application for a date (fwd) to Victoria 4 Feb 5
Beau (2,876) Nerd Bashing "All Dead" 5 Feb 5
Beau (2,772) The two missionaries "Don't Ask" 6 Feb 10
gabriel (2,650) CUBA (fwd) Cancel 7 Feb 19
Stephen (9,413) De chicken. (A survey) Fried 8 Apr 1
Hat (3,475) "the care-bear job" Fulfilled 9 Apr 2
TSR (2,222) 4aGood time (fwd) to Mr.Rice 10 Apr3
Buried A. (6666) Allen must die "Must Do" ?

Help M Main Menu P PrevMsg PrevPage D Delete R Reply O OTHER CMDS V

[ViewMsg] N NextMsg Spc NextPage U Undelete F Forward

"...[bzzz] ...Something's Up!!!!..." screamed the voice from the ear piece. The man pulled
out his gun while grabbing the woman's hair with his other hand. Frantically, he looked
around but saw nothing. Still scrutinizing the vast room, he observed the bartender
returning from the storage area holding a couple of kegs of Heineken. He was about to
relax his muscles when the mirrors behind the bar revealed the silhouette of another.

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!!!" screamed Raymond Cox as he appeared from behind the
bartender.

"ABORT MEETING. REPEAT, ABORT MEETING. WE'VE BEEN SET UP!!!" Shouted
the man as he leapt on top of the table. Still holding on to the woman's hair, he jerked her
around and heaved her towards the agent. The woman's head exploded as warfare
unraveled. Her lifeless physique waltzed in front of the skirmish, thus protecting both
assailants from each other. Guns a blazing, the man somersaulted backwards through the
glass window. Now on the street and fleeing, he activated a portable detonator inside his
computer thus sending the whore house back to hell.

Raymond, undaunted by the flames, followed.

"WHERE THE FRAG ARE YOU???" yelled the man to no avail.

Behind him, Raymond took less than a second to reload his piece, and even less to plug
the man's shoulder.

"MANIAQ!!!!!!!" screamed the man.

Out of nowhere, a convertible limousine appeared causing Raymond to stop dead on his
tracks. From the sunroof emerged the crazed Maniaq. Uttering his famous phrase, "LET
THE CARNAGE BEGIN!!!", he pulled out a bazooka.

Raymond ducked for cover while the man, lying on the floor, waved frantically.

"NONONONONONONO!!! You are going to get me killed!!!"

Nevertheless, and like a man who can't keep his hands off a beautiful woman, Maniaq
squeezed the trigger thus collapsing half the street into a bottomless pit.

"BURN BABY BURN!!!!"

"Shut up" said the man as he staggered inside the limo. "You call THAT backup?!?!?"

"I take it your informer didn't show up"

"Ohh, you think??? What the frag gave you that idea??????"

"Chill. We don't have to worry about what's going on in Hades, we got it sweet with the
fedora guy."

"I worry, that's my job!"

"And carnage is mine, so sit down and prepare for tomorrow."

"What are we going to do tomorrow?"

"Same thing we did tonight!!! . . . TAKE OVER THE WORLD!!!!! MUAW-

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

As the Limo drove away, Maniaq questioned, "Is operation Saint into Sinner finished?".

"Yes, you can call Hat to let him know, he can commence project 'Annihilation Force'.
But before you do it, I wanted to ask you, do you think we can trust Max?"

"I don't know. He is up for the challenge though."

"We need allies. I don't know for how long this Hat thing is going to last."

"Well, the money is good, and he said we would get the Caribbean!!!"

"Heh, heh, smile when you say that!"

The wounded man moved on to a nearby monitor, a voiced questioned "Did everything
go according to plan???"

The man answered, "When you hire redWrath, you hire the best!!!"

From the streets, two winos watched the Limo speed by.

"Hey Sack!!! Wake up, its time to watch them toons"

"Just a sec, let me get my happy-tequila- bottle"

They crossed the streets only to find their favorite cartoon, Mr. Happy Jet Pack and Sack-
o-Potatoes, interrupted by a special bulletin . . .

"Today at 8:30 PM, the President of the United States was assassinated! We go now to
our woman on the Streets, Linda Lang."

"Thank you Ted. This is the McDonalds were the President stopped and bought French
fries just after his nightly jog. Police found several salt-shakers with enough Cyanide to
kill a meta. A Source told us that the Government has held the hero known as Pureheart,
for questioning. It seems that his fingerprints were found on all of the salt-shakers. It is
rumored that the Government came into possession of both the knowledge and
fingerprints of Pureheart, through an anymous source. Back to you Ted."

"Thank you Linda. Now for our 'Joe, say it ain't so' poll . . ."

Chapter 8: Black Hat Dropping

(by Das Capitan)

Night fell on Black Hat's HQ like a death shroud... moist and sticky, despite the April's
blizzard... still moist and dead.

Maniaq headed for the office at the top of the stairs. When he reached the middle of the
stairs, his aquamarine sense of smell smelled.... blood.

There it was, a glistening red drop, about to drop from the top stair to the next.

DRIPP!

"Oh expletive deleted!", Maniaq exclaimed in a growling whisper.

A thin wave of blood splashed across the portion of the room Maniaq could spy.

True cowardess creeping up his spine, Maniaq turned around. The first step down might
have been a normal step, but by the time he reached the bottom, Maniaq was running. By
the time he hit the sidewalk, Maniaq was sprinting. He didn't stop until he hit the
Potomac.

The camera pans slowly into Black Hat's office. Red. Red. Red. Black. The black is a
hat. The Red is Das Capitan, bits of his foe throughout the room, his mass whirling
around the office in a lightning whiz... those bits stretched, torn and lacerated by
myriad fish-hooks, razors and grappling hooks found in Das Capitan's skin tight
rubber bodysuit.
Das Capitan came to a stop, the bloodied Hat floating messily to the blood-drenched
floor. It landed on a lump that might have been a skull.

Terror had come to K Street and he wore a Yellow Lightning bolt on his chest that
declared "MOPE!"

Das Capitan headed for the stairs, drenched in blood, bits of yuck trailing him.

On the street, a lighting bolt blasted at DC, shedding him of all blood and stains.

In his smoke-obscured place stood Michaella, Creature of the Night, a scantily clad vixen
in a leather nighty with thigh-high boots and hair down to her knees. Other proportions
will be left to the imagination. Just think "Bad Girl".

Michaella crept into the night, scaling soon into her Haven high above the former
Mayor's office.

"Hi Jester. I left you a surprise at Black Hat's."

Chapter 9: A Matter of Some Confusion...

(by The Big O.Z!)

The lights are out at The Brass Lamp, but an eerie flickering luminescance fills the back
rooms. Dancing flames that didn't burn changed form and color depending on the mood
of their owner, the Djinn known only as Shirad. She casually leaned over the top of a
huge leather armchair and stared at the wall full of monitor screens depicting various
sordid, unspeakable acts all over Washington DC, and indeed the world. An evil chuckle
filled the air... or would have, if it wasn't pitched at about the same height as Alvin of
"and the Chipmunks" fame trying to sing "Staying Alive..." by the BeeGees...

The owner of the voice shifted his position in the chair. He wore a black, red lined cape,
black leather aviators mask and goggles, and one of those garish, only-seen-in-comics
purple pin striped suits. Which must be where he got it, as they don't normally make them
for figures under 2 feet tall. Still, the fifth dimensional imp wore it well. He laughed
again with a megolomaniacal flourish as he let his goggled gaze settle on one screen in
particular: The remains of Dark Hat, slowly pooling in a puddle at the bottom of the stairs
of his hideout.

The OzObserver checked his Swiss bank account to make sure that Das Capitan had paid
the remainder of the Mite's information brokerage fee, for the location of the Dark Hat's
bolthole, and smiled smugly.

"All those idiots think they have this world in the palm of their hand! Das Capitan has
them scared through brutality and an impression of brute strength! Mr Mimic thinks his
millions guarantee him a place in the new world order! Ah, if only they knew that
somebody else can observe their every secret, knows their every weakness.... BWAH-
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!"

Shirad smiled darkly. "All goes well then, my love?"

The imp narrowed his gaze malevolently, smirking like an obcenely mutated Cheshire
Cat. "Of course! Knowlege is power, my sweet, and I corner the market! Nothing
happens that I don't know about it! Nothing prospers that I don't control! Nothing...." his
voice trailed off suddenly.

"What is it?"

Small gloved hands wizzed over controls, and brought a blurry, indistinct picture into
sharp contrast.

"No, it cant be!"

"What IS it?"

The Mite spun around in his chair, and then hovered furiously in midair. "He's alive! That
Mope-ish idiot somehow stuffed up! There's a levitating baby grand piano with his name
on it when I find the time after nuking the west coast!!! Hmmmm, maybe I could work that in
somehow...."

Shirad stared intently at the object of the Mite's ire.

And Hatman, blissfully unaware he was being observed, stumbled up an alley towards
the Brass Lamp bar and grill...

Chapter 10: Never Turn Your Back on Logic...

(by Utgaard-Henry: God of WAR!)

K Street
Outside the Brass Lamp

Hatman staggered up to the door of the Brass Lamp. That woman hadn't been particularly
kind in the places she chose to hit him after he finally got off of her. He glanced up at the
door of the bar, confused.

"The Brass Lamp? What the heck new special is Grendel doing this month?" Hatman's
head really, really hurt. Too many temporal conundrums, jumps in time and space. Heck,
J'onn was with him a few nano-seconds before he appeared here, then when he did
appear, POOF, he was gone.

Editor's Note: See the Someday To Be Completed "Arrows and Slings" in "Legends
of The World's Lamest Team". We swear it will come out someday, and explain
some of this stuff!

Hatman looked at the bar. "The outside may change, but I'm sure inside it's still the
same." He stepped to open the door. It's nice to be ... home ... whatever THAT means ....

As Hat stepped inside, he was knocked out into the street as a large man with an eyepatch
stepped out of the bar.

"HANK?"

Earlier ... At "The Brass Lamp"

RedWrath was having a GREAT day. He'd been paid a lot of money, the president was
dead, and no one was trying to kill him. Wrath eyed his knife.

Well, no one with any sense, anyway. He smiled. He was extra-special happy today,
because he was paid. One more quick errand, then it was home to have a nice dinner. Yep.
Quite a day.

RedWrath looked around the bar. He spied his sometimes ally, most of the time rival,
Utgaard-Henry, sitting at the bar.

Utgaard-Henry was not happy. He was hardly ever happy, as a matter of fact, but today he
was very extra not happy. He had the feeling that some idiot would try to kill him today.
But if they were smart, then they just might destroy Utgaard-Henry. He was extra-special
unhappy, today, because his boss had just been turned into a greasy spot. There was a
chance, albeit slim, that the same could happen to him. Because if they got the Hat, then
it could mean HE was next. He didn't really have any friends around here.

RedWrath pulled up a chair.

"Barkeep! Another ten flaggons of mead! And QUICKLY!" RedWrath shouted. Henry
slammed his fist down on the bar, cracking the surface a bit.

"Greetins, Wrath, 'tis nice to see that no-one has stabbed you in the heart, today." Wrath
smirked.

"Nice to see you, snookums. Heard your boss got--" Wrath brought his finger across his
neck in a slashing motion. Henry growled.
"What, why, that's the SECOND boss that you've been a bodyguard for that was killed,
wasn't it?" Wrath said nonchalantly. Normally, Henry would have pounded Wrath into a
wet spot. But, with things the way they were, he needed friends. Henry tried for
diplomacy.

"The Black Hat wasn't my Boss, he was my partner," Henry said with a strained voice.

Henry had worked for "The Black Hat", one of the premiere devious minds in D.C. He
didn't particularly LIKE The Black Hat, but found his skills useful. Henry had to be
honest with himself. He was no master planner.

The bartender brought the mead, as demanded, to RedWrath. The bartender figured out
some charges then said, "That will be--" He was interupted by Henry grabbing his lapels,
and pulling him very close.

"That will be on the House, right whelp?" Utgaard-Henry said with menace. The
bartender blinked.

"...but of course, Mr. Henry," the bartender said limply. Henry let him go. He drank the
first four flaggons in a gulp, then proceeded to the next. He passed the over five to
RedWrath. Wrath passed them right back.

"No no, my godling friend. These are for YOU. You've had a rough day," Wrath said.
Henry grunted, then grabbed the other flaggons.

Henry was the brawn. Hat was the brains. Together, they should have been unstoppable.
But, sometimes the brain gets a notion like, 'Hey, Henry, go get me a roast-beef
sandwich.' And the body agrees. Then when the body comes back to give the brains the
sandwich, he finds a pile of goo and some numb-n&tz in a lightning-bolt costume
standing above him.

"I guess you're a free-ranger, now, Utgaard-Henry. You should reconsider The Pantheon.
They could use a guy like you."

Henry took another drink.

Hat had it all worked out. To the letter. They were going to rule the world. Then, Henry
would have his army. Hat was going to give him an army to conquer the nine worlds
with. He promised.

"They could use your muscle. More brawn for the bunch, ya know?"

Henry took another drink.

"'Sides. This way you could have other folks do the thinking for you. Less chance of you
F*cking up, and getting someone else killed." Henry crushed his mead cup with his hand.
Wrath grinned.

Henry didn't trust RedWrath. You can't trust anybody. They'll stab you in the eye, or die
on you, or stick you in a basket and leave you with some frost giants. Henry spun round
on his chair.

"There is no HONOR left amoung Thieves and Warriors!" he screamed. A burly sailor
laughed. That was the all the excuse Henry needed. He walked over and grabbed the
sailor. The patrons parted the way for the coming Red Sea. Wrath grinned wider, and
ordered a martini. He watched Henry with twisted delight.

"Such a waste," Wrath said to no one in particular.

Henry picked up the sailor by the skull, and squeezed slightly, watching the man's eye's
bulge.

"grrk ... s-s-s-sorry-y ... glkk ...," the man stammered as blood began to seep from his
nose. Henry cocked his head at the man. How long ago had it been? He couldn't have
been very old. Ares rescued him from the frost giants ... told Henry that the power of the
gods was his ... trained him ... they were sparring ... Ares got carried away, and stabbed
Henry in the eye ... Henry then grabbed Ares sword ....

And with a swift cut, Henry had become the new God of War.

But what good was a God of War in a place like this? Sure, he was tough. Sure, he was a
god. But in a place like this, even gods had to watch their back. Henry felt his hands get
very wet, and he heard a slump.

He looked down. The sailor, headless, lay in a bloody heap on the floor. Henry looked at
his hands, covered in goo.

Almost silently, he whispered, "i'm sorry, sir. You really didn't desereve that. But you
made me mad." Henry walked back to the bar. Wrath grinned at him.

"Nice job on that guy, Henry." Wrath slapped Henry on the back. Right now, Henry didn't
want to think about the future. He didn't want to think about wars, Pantheons, gang-fights
... anything.

"So, what do you think? Do you think the Pantheon is something for you?" Henry sat up
straight. He turned slowly to Wrath.

"There be no honor amoung theives. My answer is No. Thank you for the mead." Henry
got up, and walked towards the door, stepping over the corpse of the sailor. Wrath
shrugged his shoulders, and drank from one of the mead cups.

That's a pity, Henry, that's a pity, thought RedWrath.

I guess I get paid TWICE tonight, he thought again.

RedWrath pulled out his tech 9mm, and loaded a bullet marked "LOGIC" into the
chamber, and aimed at the young Godling.

Now ... outside of "The Brass Lamp"

"HANK?" Hatman shouted.

Utgaard-Henry looked at the slight man in bewildered confusion.

"mr. hat?" Henry said, confused. Suddenly, the bar screamed.

Hat looked up, his chiseled chiseledness being used to answering screams. So long as
they weren't screams that he'd caused, anyway. Hatman looked, and saw the gleaming
pistol of the RedWrath aimed towards Henry. Time moved slowly then.

First, Hat thought to himself, What the heck is redRicky doing with a gun?

Then, Hat thought to himself, The gun is pointed at Hank!

Finally, Hat rushed at Henry with all of his might, trying to knock the godling down
before the shot was fired.

RedWrath squeezed the trigger.

Hatman flung himself at Hank.

The LOGIC bullet screamed through the air.

Henry watched with confusion as Hatman bounced off of him, and landed on the ground
with a thud. Henry bent over to check on his boss.

The LOGIC bullet slammed into a building across the street. The building exploded.

Henry whipped around. RedWrath was already running out of the door, down the street.

Henry looked down at Hatman. "Mr. Hat. It seems that I am honor bound to you not once,
but twice."

Hatman was confused. "What are you talking about Hank?" said the confused superhero.
Henry picked Hatman up.
"That would be the second time that you have saved my life."

"Saved your life?" Hatman stammered. Henry ignored him.

"So, what sort of vengence will we enact to cover this latest indignity? Shall I crush
RedWrath's skull like a grape?"

Hatman blinked. Then he blinked again.

What in the name of Toronto is going on around here? he thought.

Chapter 11: In the Sewers Something Stirs...

(by The Merlcow)

Somewhere, deep in the sewers beneath K-Street, something stirred. Its fur covered bulk
obscured by shadow, the creature bent down and plucked an old metal can from the floor
in front of it and, sniffing the tin can's insides with the snout on the left of its two
disfigured heads, placed it in a worn brown sack that it carried on its shoulder. The
creature continued to lurch along the access tunnel, stopping occasionally to pick up stray
objects as they caught its eye. Eventually, reaching a dead end, it began to heave its bulk
up a nearby metal ladder, squeezing through the tight opening at the top, into another
more spacious section of abandoned sewer.

After some time, the creature reached a section of sewer that showed signs of habitation,
with a few rags that might indicate a bed in one corner and a crude collection of boxes
that made up a table and chair in the centre of the 'room'. Slouching down into the chair,
the creature's right head mumbled a few, barely audible syllables, and around the room a
number of candles burst into flame. It then slumped the sack it had been carrying onto the
table in front of it, and began sorting through its spoils from the latest forage through the
sewers.

The flickering light cast by the candles revealed the monster in its entirety. Covered from
head to toe in brown fur, the creature appeared to be some bizarre amalgam of man and
cow, or rather, man and mutant cow. The left side of its body, was an upright bovine, with
both arms and legs terminating in hooves, while the right side, although sharing the same
hoofed foot, had a normal human hand and head. The musculature of the body was all
skewed as well, the left side of the body hopelessly over muscled and out of proportion to
the right side, causing the creature to stoop to the right when it walked in order to remain
balanced.

"MoOOoo mOOoOoo mOOooOo mOooOoo" said the right head.

"Shhh! I'm concentrating on this." replied the left head, as the creature continued to sort
through the meagre pile of scrap it had found on its journey.
"Moo." said the right head quietly, and returned to staring at the wall, its mind drifting
back to the past. Once they had been separate creatures, heroes fighting against the many
evils of their world. But then one villain, the left head didn't remember which (so much
of their memories had been lost when they were merged), had captured them and fused
them into this.... this... this... what was it they were called now?

"MooOo mOooo mOoooooOooo?"he asked Left.

"Not now Right, I think I've almost remembered the spell to turn metal cans into food,"
replied Left excitedly.

While above the forces of evil gathered, in its home in the sewer beneath K-Street, The
Merlcow sat quietly contemplative. One half of it was trying hard to remember how to
turn an empty can of tinned tomatoes into a tomato, while the other half was trying hard
to remember that it was the Merlcow. Despite this, deep in the pits of their collective
subconscious, both Left and Right knew that it could not be long before they were
dragged back into the life and death affairs of the surface world.

Chapter 12: Deathwish

(by Jason Borelli)

Earth-E

The four men never keep count on how long they were chained to the wall. Hours, days,
weeks perhaps? They didn't know. In their quest to gather information of the Pantheon,
they had been ambushed by one of the most dangerous men on the planet.

The click of the light-switch sounded. The prisioners recoiled as the light hit their dilated
eyes. Yet, in their blindness, they knew exactly who it was.

"Gentlemen, I want answers, and I want them now."

The figure was a tall one. Standing six-six, with a goatee and mustache, he wouldn't draw
that much attention. That is, if he was normal in the mind.

"W-we were...um...on our way from the Carolinas! That's it!"

The man was a sociopath. Very quiet, yet very intense. Not much else was known about
him, where he trained, how he became a master at many forms of combat...

"Somehow, I don't believe you," he said, backhanding the bloodied prisoner.

He also had many weapons. Some he stole from his fallen opponents, some were his own.
The shotgun, for instance.

"You think you know pain?" He pointed said gun to one of his prisoner's shoulders. The
trigger was squeezed, blood flew out, the victim screamed, his glasses falling off.

One being saw the viciousness of this man. He gave his a gift. A powerful gift. When
guns and swords weren't enough, the gift would be satisfactory.

"AWRIGHT! AWRIGHT!" shouted one man, whose hair had gone even redder thanks to
his neighbor's condition. "We're from the government. W-we were sent to monitor the
Pantheon."

The man smiled. "Really?"

"YES! R-really. Let us go! We won't tell!"

He smiled. The night wouldn't be a total loss after all.

"Maybe I should. Then again, I hate snitches."

The red-head began sobbing. He knew what was to come. The man placed his the back of
his hand on the heart of the prisioner. An eerie sound whistled through the air. An
unnatural white glow began to brighten the room.

"AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGG-*."

He looked down. The ring had done it's job again. He looked at the corpse. Shriveled up.
Having the life force sucked out of you will do that.

"Why? Why do you do this? WHY?"

He looked up. "Because. I. Can." The ring began to glow again. White light flashed in
front of him. Soon, three shards of this light pierced the heads of the agents, killing them
instantly."

"Bravo, Jason! Well done!"

He turned around. "Michaella. Hello."

"That's it?" she said, hands reaching for him. "I'll never understand you, Deathwish. You
must have anti-freeze running thorugh your veins. Then again, that's why you're my
number-one solider."

"Why are you here?" he replied, pushing her away.

"Celebration time. The Hat is dead, and I want to have some fun."
"I suppose."

The duo walked out of the room, just as the rats arrived to clean up the mess.

Chapter 12.5: The KSHT

(by The Imp)

Earth-E

"Hey, Emerald Death. We have a job. The team as a whole. Someone, who has contacted
me wants us to hit The Dark Hat. We'll need the whole K Street Hit Team."

"Excellent. I'll assemble the rest of the team."

The call was sent out for the whole KSHT. Buried Alive. Pit Bull Lad. The Hawaiian
Crusher. Deathshooter (the teams primary assassin). they soon arrived.

That night, the team went out, in squads of 3, ready to hit The Dark Hat.

Chapter 13: Dark Celebrations [Explicit Content]

(by The Jester)

Earth-E

Micheala and Jason walked into the Pantheon headquarters. Jason was anxiously awaiting
the "celebration" he was promised. His cool demeanor didn't break, though. His face
remained stone-still. When they walked into the room, all that changed. He saw the body
of Black Hat, bloody and mutilated nearly beyond recognizability. On top was The Jester,
who was busy violating the body by way of one of the gaping holes in the chest.

"HAT?!? What is that sick bastard doing to Hat?"

"He's celebrating," the bad, bad girl said. "I killed him."

"You killed Hat?" Jason had admired the mastermind for quite some time. He had long
been trying to sway him to come to the Pantheon.

"Yes. He was in my way." With her words, the Jester finished his activity, and slinked
behind her, carrying three murky jars.

"Hello, Deathwish. Look what I have!" He lifted one jar. "This is the head of Hat, his
brain." He lifted the second. "This is his heart." He lifted the third, longinly gazing at it.
"And this . . .is his lovely genitalia. Want some?"

Jason coldly stared. "Don't touch me, you sick f*ck."

"Just as well. More for me. Hee-hee-hee!"

The girl smiled. "You sure you don't want to share in our ritual?"

Jason hated psychopaths. You couldn't work with them. Still, Das Capitan was the most
powerful man--girl--whatever on K Street. "I'll just stay out here." And he did, hearing
strange sounds, squishy ones, painful moans of delight, and the occasional thunderclap
when they tired of the male/female game. He shivered.

Chapter 14: Prelude to Extinction [Violence]

(by Maximum Deathblood)

Meet Fluttering Freddie.

Twenty-two years ago, he was born to this earth, granted the uncanny superhuman ability
of flight. It didn't take him long to learn the obvious benefits of this gift, and not too far
into his life he embarked on a moderately successful career of petty theft, his primary
targets being the purses of elderly ladies.

This was all good and well, for a time. But time has a way of changing things. And
people. In particular, the inhabitants of K Street.

There was a storm coming. And Fluttering Freddie knew it was time to take up sides.
United as one, the petty criminals of K Street might have stood a chance against the iron-
clad fist of the Pantheon, the so-called "heroes" of K Street.

Heroes, indeed. The U.S. Government had placed their faith in a group they knew next to
nothing about to rid K Street of crime, only to find out, that this faith in the devil they
didn't know might just end up doing them in, that their "solution" might be even worse
than the problem, itself. Surely, one had to question the wisdom of placing some of the
most powerful and ruthless metahumans together, in a single group. It took no crystal ball
to see that the Pantheon would not stop after conquering K Street.

Someone had to put a stop to the oppressive hand of the Pantheon. As a member of the
superhuman team known as the Vanguard, whose Master was known only as "B8", the
Fluttering Freddie stood among the few who stood for something better. Truth. Justice.
Freedom.

Unfortunately, life in K Street was no longer freedom, and much less a right.
Earth E
Washington, DC
K Street

It had started out innocently enough. Just a routine surveilance check on the situation of J
Street, an observation for anything which might give the Vanguard some sort of edge
against the Pantheon.

Fluttering Freddie scanned the street from high above, as he carried his partner beneath
him in his arms. The street was unusually quiet, save for a few rather obscene sounds
coming from what B8 had stated, according to stolen Pentagon counterintelligence data,
was the headquarters of the Pantheon. As far as he could see, the coast was clear, as he
made his way up K Street.

"I started you off, now lets see what you can do!" Fluttering Freddie commanded as he
dropped his partner from a height roughly twice as high as the MimiCorp building.

Freddie's partner dropped though the air, spread eagled and face down, wearing a grin on
his face as the wind blew over his face and though the air. Then, with a thought, blue
energy crackled around him, and he disappeared -- only to appear on the ground, in the
middle of J Street, again, in a field of blue energy.

He got his bearings and looked around. Still quiet. So far, so good. Be looked up and
beckoned to Fluttering Freddie. Within seconds, Freddie gracefully landed on the ground
beside his partner.

"This the place?" asked Freddie.

His partner turned to him. "Yup. Should we attack, now?"

"You're kidding me. Us two, alone, against all of them?"

"You two, alone, against me." boomed a voice from behind them.

They turned and looked... and instantly wished they hadn't. He was big. God, was he big.
Monstrous. Hideous. Grotesque. A huge upper body mounted upon pencil-thin ankles.
Tiny, squinting eyes glaring from within a face filled with lines. Biceps and triceps twice
the width of his chest, leading to equally large forearms, which upon each, rested an
almost grossly immense fusion gun, each barrel aimed at each of their faces. His eyes
were filled with a maniacal lust, one for destruction.

"And so it begins."
The herald of death pulled the trigger in each hand, sheets of nuclear fire bursting forth
and toward the unsuspecting two.

Fluttering Freddie's partner disappeared in a blue blink a split second before he was
incinerated. Fluttering Freddie, himself, was not so lucky. He flew into the air, fast
enough to save himself from literally losing face, but not fast enough to save his left
ankle, which when he stopped for a second as he wondered why it sudenly felt numb, saw
to his horror nothing at all save the charred bones of his foot attached to the cauterized
bloody stump which used to be his lower leg.

And then the pain. He screamed as singed and exposed nerve endings wildly sent
electical impulses through his spinal column and into his brain. He crashed back down to
the ground, sat up, and stared at his missing foot.

*ch-CHAK!*

Fluttering Freddie regained a moderate degree of composure, looked up and, for the
second time within the course of a minute found himself again staring down the barrel of
a gun.

The imposing monstrosity stood over him. "Why are you here? Who sent you?"

Defiant, Freddie grimaced and replied, "Blow it our your [rectum], [female canine]."

And suddenly Fluttering Freddie found his mouth filled with cold steel.

"I would. If I thought I would find my answers there," came the reply, as Freddie stared
up, tears welling in his eyes.

Suddenly and without warning, the back of Fluttering Freddie's head exploded. Bits of
brains and metahuman skull splashed across the pavement as his body went limp and
crashed to the ground.

And, just for good measure, another shotgun shell was fired into his chest. And then
attention was turned to the other.

Phreak: Telephony Incarnate, grimaced as he felt a sharp pain. He realized that a stray
blast must have hit him in the leg. Still, he ran.

He was K Street's only hope, of course.

An explosion rocked the ground before him, as the detonation of high-yield explosives
tore up the asphalt and sent debris, bits of pavement, and Phreak, himself, flying back.

Before he knew what had happened next, he heard a sickening *snap* somewhere
closeby. Then he realized that those terrible, large arms with those chest-sized triceps and
biceps were around him. And inside of him were broken bones, and a few ruptured
organs. He was then thrown against the ground.

He looked down and saw his right arm, dripping with blood, bent and broken... and
separated from his body. He wailed in a mixture of shock, terror, and sheer physical pain.

"Guh -- God... kill me... please... do it quickly..."

"Eventually. I will. Get everyone. In time. But not now. Again. Who do you work for?"

Phreak looked straight down and hoped that this was a lie. "Th - th - Master...." He faded
off. And recieved a kick to the head.

"Spit it out."

With his remaining hand, Phreak held his head until it stopped ringing. "B8. I work for
B8."

"I am going to let you live. For now." The monstrosity picked Phreak by the collar,
several feet up off the ground. "Tell your Master, B8. Tell them all. Tell them that Das
Capitan is here. Tell them that Das Capitan and the Pantheon are coming for them. Tell
them that death and blood are coming."

*CRACK!* Phreak's body went numb, and he felt nothing as he was once again thrown to
the ground.

"Tell him that I'm coming."

Chapter 15: Blood, Sweat and Fear

(by Pureheart)

1602 K Street, NW
Washington, DC
The Brass Lamp

Moby's "That's When I Reach For My Revolver" was on the jukebox.

The OzObserver tapped his cigar ash into the floating ashtray before him.

"This has been a hell of a day."

He stared at Utgaard and the other before him.

"Hell of a day."

Rust-colored smoke filled a corner of the room, sending patrons -- including smuggler
Abdul Aziz -- scurrying.

"I am here, beloved, and I have brought the mortal."

Wearing a "Random Acts of Kindness and Senseless Beauty" T-shirt and a pair of
bleached-white jeans, Joe "Pureheart" Grendel staggered forward, half-collapsing on a
chair.

"Th-thank you, Shirad." His hands shaking, he clutched the tabletop. Her violent
teleportation had done little to calm his nerves, which had been initially shaken by his
violent release from prison.

"I cleared his name ... explained the situation. I trust you are finding out who did this to
us, who would want the Pantheon split at this critical juncture."

The OzObservor nodded, noting Grendel was praying silently.

"My snitches are on it. I'll find the guy, then ... I dunno, peel the skin off him, shove a
lightning bolt where the sun don't shine."

Shirad sniffed, as though such measures somehow were beneath her.

Grendel looked up, sweat cooling on his brow.

These people aren't heroes, they aren't even supervillains ... they're psychopaths!
Unconsciously, he twisted his wedding ring. I've got to contact Excelsior, tell him I'm
in ... I hope Elizabeth will forgive me.

At least when gail2 was here, things were a little better. Sure, the waitress thought he was
a wimp and a loser, but as a relatively normal human -- he'd once caught her sobbing that
the Black Hat didn't love her, was only using her -- she at least could understand what
being buffetted-about what the Pantheon was like. Then she had vanished into a
dimensional rift in the House of Secrets ...

He looked over at Utgaard and leapt back with a scream.

"Dear GOD! He's alive!"

Utgaard smiled and glanced at the trim man beside him. "Nay, tis not the Black Hat.
Grendel, I'd like you to meet Hatman."

They're reproducing like rabbits!

Chapter 16: Shadows and Reflections
(by hellgirl)

Canadian Airspace
Three Hours Ago

Excelsior flew south, rapidly rotating through the flying powers of a score of heroes. He
could have simply teleported himself directly to K Street, but he felt an obligation to help
people everywhere, and while this crisis in Washington was his number one priority, he
couldn't just abandon the rest of the world to its fate.

On his way he used the Sub-Mariner's strength to rescue a small fishing boat that had
foundered off the coast of Canada. In Montreal he used Rocket's inertial winder to absorb
the kinetic energy of an out-of-control bus, pausing just long enough to pick up the little
girl that had tripped and fallen in the crosswalk before moving on.

As he flew, the Mystery Guest and his network of agents gave him periodic updates on
the events taking place on K Street. There seemed to be some sort of coup-d'etat taking
place among the Pantheon, although reports were confusing: Black Hat had allegedly
been murdered, but had later been seen by several witnesses, including Mystery Guest.
Whatever was happening, it was certain that the residents of the city would suffer.
Already there were firefights in the streets, and the violence was sure to escalate.

K Street
1600 Block
Two Hours Ago

The redWrath glanced over his shoulder as he raced away from Utgaard-Henry. Didn't
look like the giant was coming after him, but he intended to get as much of a head start as
he could. He'd have to find another - wait! was that Black Hat? Das Capitan was
supposed to have killed him!

He rounded the corner and plowed into a crowd of pygmy marmosets who were admiring
his sports car. "Move it!" he snarled, pistol-whipping the nearest. The marmosets
scrambled to get out of his way, but one of them froze, unsure of which direction to turn.
Wrath grabbed him and flung him over the car, where he was just in time to meet the
front end of an oncoming truck. There was a squeal of brakes and the sickening sound of
bones being crushed. The redWrath vaulted behind the wheel of his car, started the
engine, and peeled out around the tail end of the truck, laughing as he remembered the
expression on the marmoset's face.
Three blocks later he stopped laughing. Das Capitan was going to have some explaining
to do.

Excelsior
Two Hours Ago

In Albany he tapped into the Speed Force briefly to stop a bank robbery in progress, then
dropped their weapons off at a police station in Poughkeepsie. Continuing south he
passed a car accident on the freeway but didn't have time to stop. He hoped it was as
minor as it had looked.

He'd been angry with the government's decision to bring in the Pantheon. He'd told them
what would happen, that the "cure" was worse than the disease. But they hadn't listened,
and now their good intentions had lead them straight to hell. He understood why they had
done what they had done. Most of the city's well-meaning heroes had been completely
ineffectual against the wave of crime emanating from K Street - a cute name and a
brightly colored costume were no match for heavily armored thugs with depleted uranium
bullets. But he couldn't understand why they had been so trusting of the Pantheon, who
were so obviously a bunch of opportunistic killers.

K Street
Near Liefeld Park
One Hour Ago

Charming Girl looked around her. "I'd heard it was bad, but I didn't realize it was this
bad."

Grafitti covered every building in sight. Many of the windows had broken glass, and
those on the first floors were invariably boarded up, covered with iron bars, or both.
Sirens were audible in the distance, and there was the occasional sound of gunfire.

"It's like a war zone," agreed Osiris. He and Bankshot had finally located the Stern
Regulars and brought them back to Washington. Now they were getting their first taste of
what things were like with the Pantheon in town.

An explosion shook the ground. It sounded as if it had come from only a few blocks
away.

"Come on," said Osiris. "Our headquarters are over here." He led the way towards a
condemned building that had once been a pizza parlor.
As they moved away they failed to notice the shadowy figure watching them from the
mouth of a nearby dark alley.

He laughed softly to himself. These new "allies" didn't stand a chance.

Excelsior
One Hour Ago

In New York he stopped a mugging, two drive-by shootings, and another bank robbery,
caught a falling steel beam at a construction site, and pulled someone from the Hudson
River. Over Jersey City he stopped a mid-air collision between a Piper Cub and the
Channel 4 News helicopter. He would have stayed longer, but he was already over
schedule. He couldn't be everywhere at once.

It was Heavengirl who had convinced him to put aside his anger and work with the
government to create the K Street Liberation Front. She had come to the Fortress of
Solitude and reminded him of his responsibility to be an inspiration to decent people
everywhere - including the poor misguided fools in Washington. It was Heavengirl who
had shown him that there were others willing to help him fight this fight.

J'onn and Utgaard-Henry had crushed her skull when she got between them and an
elderly woman who had just gone to the corner store for a box of brown sugar.

Outside Philadelphia he put out a house fire and rescued the two children trapped in the
upstairs bedroom.

Heavengirl was dead. But he was the True Believer. The fight would go on.

It had to.

Washington, DC
The Roof of the Smithsonian Institute
Now

Kermit sat on the peak of the roof, staring out towards K Street. It was easy to pick out -
the MimicCorp building was a prominent eyesore visible from almost anywhere. A black
cloud of smoke lifted slowly into the air only a block or two from the highrise, but these
days that was nothing unusual. Times looked dark for the capitol city.

The frog whistled a few notes absentmindedly. He'd been fighting crime in Washington
for two years now, using his job as a reporter for the K Street Daily Mirror to get up-to-
date information on the latest events. Things had gone from bad to worse over the past
few months, and when he was contacted by the K Street Liberation Front he'd jumped at
the chance to fight back against the Pantheon. So far, though, things were pretty grim.

And now the President of the United States was dead.

He heard some laughter from below and peered over the edge. A jogger was being
pursued by a gang of kids whose intentions were clearly sinister. She was winded and
wasn't moving very fast. It was only a matter of time before they tired of playing with her
and closed in for the kill.

Good lord, thought Kermit. Even the children have become bloodthirsty killers. He was
just about to throw a rainbow-colored sonic forcefield around the helpless victim when a
blue comet blasted from the sky. Excelsior appeared between the gang and their prey.

"Isn't this a school night?" asked the True Believer. The kids gulped and scattered in
every direction.

"Be careful, ma'am," Excelsior told the wide-eyed jogger. "I'm afraid this city's just not
safe anymore."

"I have a sister in Bludhaven. I've been thinking of moving there," the woman replied.

"Good idea." Her saviour vanished as quickly as he had come. The jogger glanced around
for a moment, then continued on her way.

Excelsior reappeared beside Kermit. "What have you been able to find out about the
assassination?" As he talked he unconsciously cycled through his powers, a tic he'd
developed over the years. It gave him a strange appearance, as forcefields and suits of
armor flickered in and out of existence and his eyes glowed different colors.

"Not much," said the frog. "The FBI arrested Pureheart, then released him due to lack of
evidence. They don't seem to have any other leads."

"Strange. I have no doubt the Pantheon was responsible, but I'm not sure how Pureheart's
involved."

"Has Mystery Guest contacted him yet?"

"Not yet, but he will as soon as he gets an opportunity." The hope was to use Pureheart as
a spy within the Pantheon. "If he's been set up for a fall he may be under suspicion
already."

"I put together that information you asked for. There isn't much, I'm afraid. The Pantheon
seems to have come out of nowhere. The earliest news reports only go back to about nine
months ago."

Excelsior nodded. He was using Ultra Boy's Penetra-Vision to scan the city.

"Come," he said. "There's work to do."

Chapter 17: Further Foreshadowings

(by The BIG O.Z.)

The OzObserver ("Big Oh Zee to you buddy!") and Shirad retired from the bar to the
back rooms, leaving the regular day staff to handle the day to day runnings. Pureheart
was on hand in case anything got rough, and Oz had no problems with the way the putz
went about things. I mean, he was a wuss, but an honest, well-meaning wuss! Pretty easy
to manipulate, and that was just the way Oz liked him.

Shirad watched her partner staring reflectively at a monitor focused on Pureheart and the
Bar. Her reservations grew stronger... could it be that her little evil imp was growing soft
on her? Did he actually like that albino meathead outside?

"Don't get your knickers in a twist sweets, I'm just appreciating the situation as it unfolds!
Pureheart is an honest bloke... that makes him dangerous in a place like K street. Dead
Meat, but dangerous nonetheless!"

"Especially with that sword..."

"Yeah, I don't like it either. Something about it gives me the heebie jeebies! Still..." the
Mite hovered up to another bank of monitors, "Storm clouds are a'gatherin', and it
couldn't hurt to have some poor, misguided, well-intentioned goof protecting our interests
now, could it?"

Shirad smiled, and the currently intangible flames around her burned brighter and danced
with a life of their own. "My love, Please, forgive me for doubting you!"

And the pair smirked as they settled down on a lounge and took stock of Excelsior and a
friend gliding silently across the city; the K Street Strike force arming themselves for a
pre-emptive strike; Das Capitan and his/her cronies flattening a tenement block for the
fun of it; Mr Mimic's boardroom conference collapsing in typical bloody confusion; or
Pureheart and the earstwhile Dark Hat doppleganger in the bar.

Shirad's eyes narrowed with a curious mixture of malice and concern. "I still cannot
shake the feeling that the stranger will be the undoing of us all..."
Chapter 18: The Story So Far...
(by Maniaq)

K Street is a dark reflection of the J Street we know. It resides in Washington, D.C. on

Earth E.

Right now, K Street is controlled by a group of villians called the Pantheon.

The Pantheon was organized when a criminal by the name of Black Hat brought various
super-crooks and psychopaths to Washington to work for him. Some of the big names in
that group were the Grey J'onn, Maximum Deathblood, the Maniaq, redWrath, and the
Secret Victoria.

This was a nasty bunch. After their arrival on the scene, they killed those who would
defend K Street left and right. The Illuminator, Heavengirl, Grape Ape, Captain
Constructo, even the God Squad. All had been brutally vanquished. The heroes ranks
were dwindling rapidly. Then came the stranger. The visitor from another world. Hatman.

The Pantheon had uneasy alliances with a number of different factions. Perhaps the most
powerful was the OzObserver and his group. The Big O.Z. and his lover, Shirad own the
Brass Lamp, a bar at 1602 K Street. In their employ are a number of sundry characters.
Ma-Chet-e is the man/hooligan in charge of supplies. The one who bears the most
watching, by far, is Pureheart. This Joe Grendel is noble, and therefore is beginning to
regret his alliance with such villians.

Another group with loose relations with the Pantheon is MimicCorp, a large weapons-
making firm run with an iron fist by its corrupt President, Mr. Mimic. Mr. Mimic is the
employer for a group of nasties known as the K Street Hit Squad. They give him
information and perform...services for him in exchange for large sums of cash. Mr.
Mimic is feared by anyone with brains.

Several groups try to keep a lid on the violence and villiany that go on on K Street to no
avail. The organizer of the heroes efforts is Excelsior, the True Believer. Using his
awesome powers for good, he has summoned the rest of his group, the K Street
Liberation Front, to watch over the Pantheon and try to thwart any of their actions.

They are allied with Good, Inc., the Stern Regulars, and Vanguard, all groups dedicated to
protecting the innocent and upholding the law. That proved to be quite a bit more difficult
when Das Capitan and the sinister Jester arrived in Washington.

The Superhuman Control division of the C.I.A. has sent their best agent, Raymond Cox,
to keep an eye on all of this.

In order to keep the government, and perhaps the OzObserver, off his back, the Black Hat
sent redWrath on a very important mission. And when you hire redWrath, you hire the
best.

redWrath killed the President of the United States and framed the goody-two-shoes
Pureheart for it. This caused an uproar everywhere. The mission was a success, panic
reigned supreme, and the Black Hat got just what he wanted. Until, that is, it backfired on
him...

Das Capitan took advantage of the confusion and solicited the Black Hat's location from
the Notorios B.O.Z. With that information, he infiltrated the Black Hat's headquarters and
killed him. Rather violently. The Jester and Deathwish were brought in for the
"celebration".

While these events forced the Grey J'onn to go on the lam and a disgraced Utgaard Henry
to lose himself in mead at The Brass Lamp, Maximum Deathblood, Maniaq, and
redWrath all chose to stay with Das Capitan. He would be the new leader of the
Pantheon.

While Utgaard Henry drank, Wrath was assigned to re-recruit him...or kill him. When
Henry refused to join, the redWrath was forced to try and assassinate him. Dumb luck
prevented Henry's death.

Hatman, OUR Hatman, managed to distract Henry and save him from getting shot. Henry
was then honor-bound to serve Hat, who Henry, along with everybody else, believed to
be the Black Hat returned from the dead. He brought Hat back inside the Brass Lamp and
discovered his strange secret...he was from another world.

O.Z. and Shirad eventually cleared Pureheart's name for the Presidential assassination,
vowing to find whoever framed him. Pureheart, becoming weary of all the villiany, made
an important decision. He decided to take up Excelsior's offer to join the K Street
Liberation Front. He prayed his wife would forgive him for what happened.

Hatman is now at the mercy of OzObserver and his group, Utgaard Henry joining the
ranks. He's quite clueless as to what's going on. He believes himself to be in the company
of his strangely-altered friends.

Things started coming to a head when Maximum Deathblood brutally killed and injured
two members of the Vanguard.

The KSHT (K Street Hit Team) is contracted by Mr. Mimic to go after Hatman. Mr.
Mimic gets what he wants. And he wants the guy who looks like Black Hat dead.

And in the sewers...something...lurks...half-man...half...mutant cow...all hungry.

Chapter 19: Dead Meat
(by redWrath and Maniaq)

"Tonight is a good night to die," redWrath ruggedly voiced as he checked his reflection in
the mirror. He proceeded to examine what little healing his shoulder had done, without
loosing sight of what really mattered. His hair. "Life is good, isn't it, Maniaq?"

"Business is good!" smirked the assassin.

"Say, when is Max supposed to get here?"

Maniaq continued his channel surfing.

"I said..."

Maniaq interrupted his partner before he finished his sentence, "He'll get here when he
f@#$ing feels like getting here!!!"

O.Z. paced back and forth, trying to keep his cool. Things were happening too fast. *This
stranger is too damned important to just put on the back-burner. I've got to figure out
what his connection to Black Hat is, and, if I can, exploit it for all it's worth. AND, I've
still got to find out who framed Grendel, the Pureheart. Hmmm...*

Shirad entered the back room of the bar, the flames dancing around her magically.
"Lover...?"

"Yeah? What?"

"Well...Perhaps I won't tell you the good news if you're going to treat me like that."

"Oh. Sorry, sweets. I got a lot on my mind. Whaddaya need, baby?"

"You're about to have one less thing on your mind. I found out what happened to
Pureheart."

"By damn, but you're resourceful! How in the heck didja manage THAT?!" cried the Big
O.Z.

"The Martian? I found him. I blackmailed him. He works for us now."

"Annnnd?"

"And he did a mind probe. The entire city. We found who framed Grendel." She smiled
coyly. She was playing a game with her lover.

"And that iiiissss?"

"redWrath. The assassin. He was the one in here earlier. Tried to kill Henry."

"Well. He's dead meat now. That's all I have to say. He's. Dead. Meat."

Mr. Mimic didn't like what he was watching happen. An organized Pantheon would
hinder many of his more profitable...ventures. After checking quarterly reports, 10-Ks
and the Wall Street Journal stock market section, he decided to check on his lackeys.

He pressed a button on a speaker phone and spoke into it, in his smooth, mellow voice.

"Blanca? Get me the Imp or whoever from the KSHT. I need to check on their
progress..."

"Yessir, right away sir." the voice responded.

Maximum Deathblood took his time going up the stairs while he pondered the answers to
some important questions.

*Who should I kill next? How should I kill them? Who's side should I be on here? Who
can help me to kill the most people so that I can acheive my destiny?* he thought.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he found Maniaq and redWrath celebrating.

"What's going on here? Why are the two of you drunk?"

Maniaq looked crazed. He chugged a half a beer and shouted, "WE'RE GOIN' ON A
MISSION! HOO-HAA!"

Max pondered killing the both of them. That wouldn't serve him best right now, so he
waited.

redWrath, always the calm one, stopped drinking for a bit to explain.

"Das Capitan is tired of waiting. He's ready to make a move. We're assembling, and if the
Oz-Man's not with us, he's against us. There'll be a fight."

"So basically, if O.Z. doesn't throw in with us, we can kill him?" replied Deathblood.
"Riiiiiight!" screamed Maniaq. He tossed Max a beer.

The Brass Lamp

"Hey, J'onny, you look weird, man. Gray, almost. What're you doing? Quit rubbing your
temples like that! It's me! Hatman! Aw, come on! Cut it out!"

"It's useless. I can't get anyhting out of him. The mind-probe failed." J'onn said to the
others, unaware of the special metal lining of Hatman's fedora.

"Damn. Do you think he'll work fo us?" OzObserver asked the Martian.

"Helloooo? Could you guys talk to me like I'm here?"

"I don't know. He thinks he knows us, yet this is obviously not the Black Hat we know."

"Come on, I told you guys I don't know anything about any 'Black Hat'. That's a silly
name, if you ask me. And why are you trying to mind probe me? Why can't you just ASK
me whatever you need? Sheesh!"

O.Z. raised his mite hand to strike Hatman, like he would any other prisoner being
interrogated. Henry grabbed his tiny fist before it reached Hat.

"Nay, varlet. This man hath saved my life, and I am honor-bound to protect him. HANDS
OFF!"

Normally, O.Z. wouldn't let ANYONE talk to him that way, but this WAS the GOD of
War and everything. And he didn't want to lose any precious allies right now.

Then, the door was kicked in.

Outside, 2 minutes earlier.

"You got to take point last time. I'm going in."

"No. No way. Me first."

Maximum Deathblood shoved redWrath and Maniaq out of the way and proceeded to
kick the door down.
Maniaq and the Wrath charged in after him. The Secret Velocioraptor was next. Oh, boy,
was he next.

"Oh, $#!% !!" cried Ma-Chet-e, who was behind the bar, grabbing for his ordinance at
this point.

"Hi, kids! Hope we didn't interr--" TSV was interrupted himself by some rampaging
children enterring the bar.

"Awright, where's Black Hat! Tell him the K Street Hit Team is looking for him!" cried
Emerald Death.

Just then, a man in a booth in a corner coughed. It was Raymond Cox. For once in his
life, he had no idea what to do. Here he was trying to gather some information on the
OzObserver and Shirad, when almost every freaking meta on K Street walked in!

"Not so fast! There will be no lives lost today! Not if Excelsior has anything to say about
it!! I've brought some friends along, too!" The K Street Liberation Front, in full force,
stepped out. They were accompanied by Good, Inc. and the Stern Regulars.

*FANBOY!*, thought Hatman. *What's HE doing here?! I've got to stop him, whatever
he's u--* Hat's thought was interrupted by a portion of the ceiling falling in.

Das Capitan was in the house. Jester jumped off his back.

"YOU'RE ALL UNDER ARREST! hee-hee-hee!"

*Geez. All this for ME?* Hatman thought.

Chapter 20: Fire-Fight!

(by The Imp)

All of a sudden, the KSHT appeared outside, and their combined powers unloaded into
the bar.

Then, there was silence.

The Imp picked up his walkie-talkie and said, "Buried Alive--- we have him, in fact, we
have all of them. The Jester. Hatman. RedWrath. Maximum Deathblood. Emerald Death
was lost in the process. Inform Mr. Mimic."

The KSHT then de-materilized and were gone.

"Emerald Death, how'd you do that?", asked Maniaq.

"Simple. Just altered their brains to think we all died. Wrong. They were a bunch of
bastards anyway. We'll get rid of them soon enough. They think we're dead. That gives us
an advantage.", said ED.

So, the entire Panthanon was not slaughtered, but it was an illusion put up by the traitor
Emerald Death.

A sewer cap opened.

"MOoOoOoOoooooo!!", cried a figure as it emerged from the sewer.

Chapter 21: From The Sewer Something Surfaces...

(by The Merlcow)

The Merlcow looked around with its Right head above ground, using its uncanny bovine
sense of smell to see if they had reached their destination.

"MooOooOooooooOOooooOo" it said eventually.

"You sure?" replied Left, "We haven't come up in the alley again by mistake?"

"Moo."

"O.K, I'm coming up."

The Merlcow's Left head pushed up next to the Right, and then the whole creature began
to squeeze through the small gap in the floor and into the deserted bathroom of the The
Brass Lamp. The OzObserver may have cameras all over town but no one knew the
sewers like the Merlcow and that knowledge had allowed it to find this small disused
bathroom, long ago walled off by a previous inhabitant and unknown to its current owner.

"MooOo mOoooO moOOooO?"

"For gods' sake Right, its too late now. We've reached our decision, we're going to have to
stick with it."
"Moo-"

"No 'buts'!" said Left in an angry whisper. "Just help me dismantle this wall, all right?"

Before coming here, the Merlcow had argued with itself long into the night as to whether
or not it should return to the surface. Right had said that the surface world had only
treated them badly and that they should stay in their nice warm sewer. Left had countered
that they used to be Heroes and it was their job to go back to the surface and try to
prevent the evil they had fallen victim to from hurting any others. Right said if they went
back to the surface for any reason, it should be to eat the populace that had shunned it and
feast on the hearts of those who had called it monster. Left pointed out that they were a
vegetarian and told Right to stop being silly. Right sulked and reminded left that neither
of them could even remember which evil it was they had fallen victim to in the first
place. Left called Right a selection of bad words that even mutated sewer dwelling cow-
creatures shouldn't know. Right replied smugly that left couldn't even spell cast his way
out of a wet paper bag anymore, let alone do any good on the surface. In a fit of rage Left
turned Right into a frog, but missed the obvious flaw in his plan.

The two headed frog spent several hours in silence, pondering its predicament, before the
spell wore off. By that time it had made up its collective mind to go to the surface and see
if it could help whatever there was left on K-Street that passed for the forces of good (or
failing that, break a habit of a life time and let Right feast on the innards of the forces of
evil).

So here they were, removing the wall that separated the forgotten bathroom from the
store room behind the bar, as quickly and quietly as possible. Right had trailed the scents
of several they remembered as friends from their days as heroes to this bar, but sadly
could also smell the distinctive smell of evil that pervaded the place. Even if they were
too late to help their once friends in battle, they could still provide one hell of a
convenient escape route...

Chapter 22: Night Flight

(by Jason Borelli)

The Skies above K Street

His name is Jason Borelli. He is the most feared man in Washington. A merciless killer,
he slaughters anybody that gets in his way. All but one.

When he first arrived in Washington, he was sent to kill Michaella. The Black Hat had
promised him an easy two mil for her death. However, when he found her, she was at the
mercy of one of the local gangs. Her mouth filled with foam so she couldn't shout the
word, she was at their mercy.
Knowing he'd lose monry, Jason made short work of the gang. He went to finish off
Michaella, but she shouted the word, and disappeared. In her place, a hulking man.

The duo were impressed by each other's abilites. So Jason found himself in the employ of
Michaella. He wasn't a weird sex-slave, like Jester occasionally was. Sure, Michaella
would flirt with him, paw at him. But Jason was never interested in sex. Just the joy of
putting people in misery, then putting them out of it.

His flight was over. The soul energy he had absorbed a while ago had been exhausted. It
was time to go back to Michaella's place.

"He's alive?"

"Yeah, psycho," said Jester. "Black Hat's alive, well, and he's got that Norse freak
practically on him."

Jason glowered. "Maybe he made a deal or something."

"Yeah, or maybe Micky iced an andro-*"

Jester was interrupted by a swift kick in the groin.

"I know he's dead. I killed him myself," said Michaella, as Jester began to vomit, and
Jason formed what could be mistaken for a smile. "I don't know how, but Black Hat's
days on K Street are numbered."

Chapter 23: Meanwhile, Back at the Fight...

(by Pureheart)

(OK, as we were saying, before everyone threw in chapters taking place before, after and
during this moment ...)

The Brass Lamp

Every supervillain and his brother -- including the oddly disconnected-from-reality

KSHT -- had converged on the bar, out for blood.

Fanboy?! Hatman reached toward his head, and the legendary Boomerang Fedora.

Earth E's Fanboy, the Man of Chromium, Last Son of the Silver Age, the True Believer ...
EXCELSIOR began rippling through all the powers of the Legion of Superheroes,
preparing for a devastating attack.

"K Street Liberation Front, let us rid Washington, indeed Earth of ..."

Unfortunately, Excelsior had chosen to manifest Matter-Eater Lad's powers at the

moment the Boomerang Fedora struck him soundly on the temple. He slumped back into
the arms of a startled Illuminatrix.

"Uh oh ..."

Deathwish glanced at the Jester, unsure of what to do. "Who do we kill now?"

The Notorious O.Z., Shirad and Ma-Chet-Ee grinned, ready to spill some blood.

"Let's get ready to ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuumble!" The imp spat a stream of tobacco juice --
where had THAT come from? -- toward Deathwish. "I'm taking over this gang! ... After
we kill these heroes ..."

An ashen-faced Pureheart stared down at the fallen Excelsior, then up at Hatman. What
do I do NOW? His hand hovered on his sword hilt. We can't beat all the supervillains
without Excelsior ... Licking his dry lips, he decided to wait.

Gray J'onn glanced toward the door toward Imp's crew.

"Uh, they're trying to dazzle us with a psionic illusion that we're ... no, they're ... well,
that SOMEBODY is dead."

"Who?"

"Don't worry about it. We'll kill them later."

At that moment, the ceiling exploded.

The villains, the K Street Liberation Front, Hatman and Pureheart all looked up in terror.

A sinister figure, adorned in razor blades and fish hooks slowly floated to the ground.

"I am Das Capitan ... and I am here to lead the Pantheon to a glorious destiny!"

redWrath glared up at him, blood in his eye. "[An act illegal in 48 states] me."

"As you wish ... " In a burst of superspeed, Das Capitan turned into a human top,
whirling through redWrath like a razor-sharp tornado, spraying bits of the villain
everywhere.

"Anyone else have any objections?"

The Pantheon was shocked into silence momentarily, then all began arguing at once.

Illuminatrix shook Excelsior gently, whispering into his ear.

"Wake up ... we need Gates' powers ... NOW!"

As the True Believer's eyes flickered open, she grabbed Hatman by the scruff of his neck.

"And YOU're coming with us!"

The heroes vanished into a gate, blipping back to the Fortress of Solitude.

Wait! Grendel thought, his palms sweaty, Take me with you!

Licking redWrath's blood off his fingers, Das Capitan looked around the room.

"As I was saying, I'm the new leader of the united Pantheon ... any objections?"

Utgaard-Henry was the first to answer. He burst out laughing, oily tears roling down his
face.

"By Loki, Kali and Hades! Though art worthy! I say thee 'aye!' And let all Midgaard
tremble before us ..."

Chapter 24: Ah! My Deamoness

(by Dom)

Adding to the K Street Madness, are the five overly endowed, sinfully beautiful, barely
clothed and butt-floss wearing Deamonesses who live down the street in the All
Nightmen caverns. Although they usually keep to themselves, today their leader, Dom
has announced that their seclusion is about to end. Gathered together inside the Throne
room are Dom, Deamoness of Whips and Chains, Mistress Askani, Deamoness of Arson
and Malice, WyldeCard, Deamoness of Misfortune, Dom's Younger sister, Del, Li'l
Deamoness in training and Dom's older sister, the modest, Silver Fox, Deamoness of
Wishes

Sprawled in her Throne made of human bone, Dom began

"Deamonesses, the time has come..."

Before Dom could finish, Mistress Askani continued,

"To fire bomb K Street leaving only charred remains of the humans as our first step
towards world domination in the name of the Totally Evil?"

"NO! I know what it is..." WyldeCard stated, "It's time for me to mix up a potion to
poison this state's water supply so that their flesh drops off in clumps and they die a
horrible painful agonizing death as we make our way to world domination in the name of
the Totally Evil!"

"No, your both soooooo wrong!" Del Screamed, "It's time for me to make a huge nuclear
powered robot to enslave the nation so we can then enslave this world in the name of the
Totally Evil?!?!!"

"Ummm....is it time to go around and make all the nice people's wish come true?" Silver
Fox said meekly.

"WHAT?!?!!?"; All the Deamonesses said at once.

"No, Deamonesses, you are all wrong. I recently got some horribly wonderful news. The
President is DEAD!"

"YEAH!!!!!" All the Deamonesses said at once, jumping for joy.

"Now there is no doubt that the Pantheon is going to use this event as an excuse to fully
exploit their resources an cause all sort of fantastic havoc. And with all the focus on then
we can work in the shadows, to not only conquer the Pantheon, but this pathetic excuse
for a dimension as well! Yes Deamonesses, the time has come to begin to enslave this
world much like we have with others!!!!" Dom Proclaimed

And all at once the Deamonesses let out a cheer of joy. Then Dom began debriefing them
on their mission.

Later that evening in Dom's Bed chamber

"They bought everything I said, Poor dears don't have clue what their in for." Dom said as
she shut the door tightly behind her.

"Damn, Dom that's cold," Said a very masculine voice from the shadows that surrounded
Dom's Bed. "I mean, two of them are your sisters"

"Hey, Only one is my sister, the other is my half-sister. Besides, you know I've been
plotting this all along, they are all nothing but Dead weight. All that is left now is for me
to make sure they don't mess up and survive" Dom said as she began to disrobe in the
moonlight.

Dom looked over to her dresser and saw a black vase full of fresh Purple Lilacs. she
walked over and touched them gingerly.
"You know these are my Favorites..."

'I know Lover..." He said as he opened up his arms. Dom fell in to her arms and kissed
him deeply...

Chapter 25: Who will save your soul?

(by The Imp)

"Who Will Save Your Soul" was playing on the juke, much to the patrons disagreement.

"I am your leader, now.", said Das Capitan.

All of a sudden, a rather large demon teleported into the center of the bar.

"Wait! Before you fire! I offer you all a... bargain.", said Imp. "I have come as a minion
my the dark lord, Neron. He will give you infinite power in exchange for your souls. All
of you. Who will join me and receive the ULTIMATE in power?", said the demon.

A figure stepped forward.

Chapter 25.5: Better Save Yourself, Imp [Explicit Content]

(by The Jester)

That lone figure actually slinked more than walked. It was the Jester. The Imp gulped.
He'd heard "Jester Stories." He'd had nightmares for years after the first. In fact he still
did.

"Silly, silly Imp. Neron? You think some patsy like NERON can scare us? He can offer
me nothing! HE F*CKING MAKES SACRIFICES TO ME! In fact," the Jester said,
coyly eyeing Imp, "he's due for a new one." The Jester drew himself up to his full height,
about a foot higher than Imp. He bent over and licked Imp's face slowly, from the chin to
the forehead. He sighed. "Doesn't even taste fresh . . ."

Imp's pants showed a growing wet spot on both sides. Jester noticed.

"Yummy! Condiments!"

"Please . . .let me go!"

"Not yet, sweetheart. Neron still owes me." Imp tried to move, but was paralyzed.
Possibly by fear, possibly by something else entirely. The Jester bent the Imp over the
bar. He slipped on a surgical glove and pulled some Vaseline out of his pouch. He looked
at the lubricant, considering something, then threw it to the side.

Protests emerged from various villains present, but Das Capitan only glared and said,
"There must be an example."

******Forty five minutes later******

"I've found it! I've found it!" The Jester retrieved a filthy, bloody arm. He held a glowing
white orb. The Imp whimpered, unable to scream for about half the procedure. "Imp, I
have your soul. I own you now. Bark like a dog." The Imp barked. Jester laughed. He
looked at the other villains, many of whom were unable to look back. "I've got a pet
now!" He turned back to the Imp. "I want you to find out about this 'Hatman' character.
Find out, then come and tell me. Then, maybe, you'll get your soul back." Imp nodded,
bowing, then left the bar.

Jester laughed.

>Chapter 26: Long Day's Journey into Night

(by hellgirl)

The Fortress of Solitude

Excelsior had healed the bruise on his head immediately, but his pride was taking longer
to recover.

"I'm so embarassed," he muttered.

"There, there, said the Illuminatrix. "Anyone could have chosen those powers."

Which wasn't, of course, strictly true.

"They worked against Pulsar Stargrave," said the True Believer. It had been one of his favorite stories.

Everyone pretended not to hear him.

Hatman was thoroughly confused. He'd been in Grendel's bar (or what should have been
Grendel's bar) surrounded by what he thought were his friends. Only this bunch was
much rougher than Grendel's usual clientele (and the Pond had never been considered
swanky): Hank had a lot less hair than usual, and a patch over one eye, and everyone else
was similarly...off. Wherever this was, whenever this was, it wasn't the J Street he
thought of as home.

Then things had gotten crowded and very confused and he'd developed a tremendous
headache, just like the ones he got whenever really nasty dimensional squalls hit J Street,
and now he'd been whisked away by Fanboy and Evil, Inc. and a bunch of other people
he didn't quite recognize. Only this Fanboy was taller and in much better shape than he
remembered Fanboy ever being. And this Fanboy and his Masterful Legion of Evil
Supervillains had somehow taken over what could only be the Fortress of Solitude.

The best he could figure was, Fanboy had somehow realized the full extent of his powers
and taken over J Street, twisting it and everyone on it into his own skewed vision of the
world. The Pantheon looked like a bunch of bumbling cutthroats because that's how
Fanboy pictured them. And he and his minions naturally looked like the stalwart heroes
Fanboy imagined them to be.

Things were truly grim. How could he hope to stop someone with such powers of reality
distortion?

And yet, he was the only chance the Pantheon had...

The Brass Lamp

Das Capitan and B.O.Z. had retired to the back room to negotiate the new power
arrangements now that the Pantheon's new leader had been accepted by the last of Hat's
loyal henchmen.

Pureheart was still in the bathroom being sick over what the Jester had done.

In the forgotten back room, the Merlcow was standing very, very still and trying not to
breathe. Its two heads were independently trying to decide whether or not it was safe to
move yet.

The K Street Hit Team had been, er, "convinced" to share their stash of drugs with the
other patrons, who had momentarily forgotten their enmities.

Hellraiser, the newly arrived demon who had been mucking with everyone's sense of time
and space, was enjoying a banana daquiri at the bar. The regulars were giving him a wide
berth. Every now and then he let out a malevolent chuckle.

No one noticed that the dollops of bloody, pureed flesh that had once been redWrath were
slowly creeping back towards each other...
The Fortress of Solitude

Harry Houdini, a gaunt man wearing a straitjacket, was explaining what he thought had
happened.

"Obviously, there was some kind of massive reality distortion, since none of us has a
clear picture of what happened. I sensed a mystical disturbance centered on the bar - I
won't go into technical details, but it was a Class 3 Cthonic Manifestation - and it acted as
a sort of cosmic whirlpool, pulling us all there without regard to the normal linear
confines of space and time. What caused it, and why it manifested at that place and time,
I don't know exactly, but-"

"Are you saying the Pantheon summoned a demon?" asked Johnny B. Good.

"Uh, yeah, sort of. It's possible that the sheer amount of evil in the room acted as a kind
of 'black magnet', causing a spontaneous corporealization."

The cherub floating above Rehab Man's shoulder opened its big blue eyes.

* If that's so *, he sent, * then we're in greater danger than ever. *

"That's true," agreed Leonardo Stargiver. "Most of the Pantheon don't have the kind of
power that J'onn or Henry or Metachron have. But if some of them have found a source
of demonic power, then they may be unstoppable."

Osiris stood. "We need to get back down there as soon as possible. Even though we
almost certainly go to our deaths."

Kermit noticed that someone's attention had wandered. "Excelsior? Are you listening?"

"I'm sorry," said Excelsior distractedly. "There's a massive tidal wave threatening Tokyo.
I have to go stop it. I'll join you as soon as I can." He vanished in a brief flash of light.

"Damn," said Houdini. "Looks like it's up to us for the time being."

"Maybe we should split up," suggested Ladybug. "That way we can cover more ground."

The Free-Breeder nodded. "Good idea. The Stern Regulars will take the north side of the
city."
Chapter:27 More Money
(by Jasper)

Just a few hours ago

Sitting on the roof of the Brass Lamp, Contraband almost laughed out loud. These people
wouldn't know what unity was if it bit them on the @$$ she thought.

Contraband is a smuggler by trade, but she is also a spy. And with superspeed to help her
out she's pretty good. Right now she is trying to see how profitable it would be for her to
help join in with the Pantheon, even if her current position is extemely dangerous.
Especially if she were caught, but she is temporarily protected by a headband that keeps
any creature picking up her thought patterns. This is a good defense against the Martian.

A creak behind her causes her to twirl around with her guns out.

"Relax." Whispered a male voice "I'm here to get the information you have."

"Here."she hands him a tape. "Getoutbeforetheyspotus." she said backing away from the
hole in the roof.

"No problem. The Deamoness will be happy."

"I'm sure she will." she whispers as he teleports away. I wonder why a deamon has the
need for a spy anyway? She imediately decides to get while the Pantheons are still
distracted by Excelsior. Another idiot. Except that one has a deathwish

She slowly walks along the roof to a safe teleport distance, but it seems the Brass Lamp's
roof is much weaker then anyone suspected. She crashed through the roof, but instead of
landing on the hard floor in the midst of adreniline pumped psycos, she landed on
something soft in one of the back room. It was a hidious creature! No wait...she
recognized it. It was the Merlcow. They were associates of hers before the accident. She
probably would have searched for them afterwards. If she had the heart that is.

The Pantheon must still be busy because none of them have come to see what happened.
This is good, and I probably can use the Merlcow. She imediatly checked if he was still
alive and then started her teleporter.

Chapter 28: Time, Running Out...

(by Pureheart)

The Brass Lamp

Late Friday night
Machete watched the Notorious O.Z. and Das Capitan stalk off into the back room. He
leaned over to Shirad, although still keeping a respectful distance.

"I don't get it."

She raised an eyebrow, the edge of her mouth twitching.

"The multiplication tables? Really, mortal, there are SO MANY things you are unable to
comprehend ..."

"Uh, no ma'am, I meant if Gray J'onn figured out that redWrath was probably working for
Das Capitan when he killed the president, why would he have antagonised Das Capitan?"

Shirad sighed, her flames becoming brighter.

"Because my love did not wish to tip his hand, and so had the Martian implant a
subliminal suggestion in redWrath's mind."

Machete nodded at this.

"Well, how come he's making nice with Das Capitan? I thought he wanted to be the boss
of the Pantheon ..."

"'Know thy enemy,' Machete, 'know thy enemy ...'"

Saturday morning, early

A townhouse on the corner of Braddock and Backlick roads,
Springfield, Va.,
Just south of Washington on I-395

Joe "Pureheart" Grendel slowly inched the bedroom door open, carrying a small plastic
bag. He paused in the bedroom, filled with diffuse post-dawn light, and stared at his
wife's slumbering form in bed.

"You're pregnant?"

"Yes, Joe, about six weeks along now. ... Are you crying?"

"You ... you have no idea how much I want to be a father."

Her brown hair surrounded her face like an aura, and her expression was at peace for the
first time in months.

He reached into the bag and pulled out a tiny tie-dyed teddy bear. She put Garcia, the
Beanie Baby she'd been hunting high and low for, on the nightstand beside her head. It'd
been worth dealing with Abdul Aziz when he thought of how excited she'd be when she
saw it. When he'd first met her, she'd been a sorority girl with a penchant for the Grateful
Dead. Now she was a superhero's wife, about to bear his child ...

A hot tear rolling down one cheek, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
Galahad, their small white cat, stroked his ankle with his tail as Grendel walked by.

Pulling on his white jean jacket over his "God is coming; And she's PISSED" T-shirt,
Grendel walked downstairs, listening to his early-morning visitor put his coffee cup
down.

"Mr. Grendel, you make excellent coffee," the Mystery Guest beamed. "You're just full of
surprises, aren't you?"

Grendel buckled on his hip holster, including speed loaders filled with more blessed
bullets, and pulled on his sword belt.

"Can we go, please?" He wiped another tear away. Grendel had promised her that after
today, he'd never go back to the Brass Lamp again, never see the Pantheon ...

Tomorrow, Elizabeth Grendel would be carrying a superhero's child, and would almost
certainly be his widow...

Chapter 29: Let's Make A Deal!

(by The Imp)

"J-Jester, I have the information you need. About Hatman. He is, apparently someone
from another universe, where the Pantheon are heroes, not villains. A very chilling
thought, eh?", said The Imp.

"Yes.", said Jester.

"Now, about my soul. Can I have it back?", said Imp.

"I am not one to disregard a deal. Here.", said Jester as he held out a blob in a jar.
"Swallow it and it will go back into you."

"Thank you, Jester." and the Imp ran off.

"What shall we do about this "Hatman", Capitan?", said Jester.

"We do what we always do: Kill."

Chapter 30: The Hunting

(by Mr. Mimic)

The Tower of MimicCorp

"Those blundering idiots!" Mr. Mimic yelled as he grabbed the nearest lackey and
snapped him in half. Suddenly realizing what he had done Mimic calmly turned and
flicked a com-switch on the wall. "Cleaner, level 41. Another unfortunate accident, yes.
And send up the next lackey please."

*That's the last time I resort to hiring metas out of juvenile detention. At least some of
their league of imbeciles aren't caught* he thought as he activated the video-phone panel.

The face of Yellow Page appeared on the screen. Mr. Mimic turned and stared coldly at
the image. "Yellow Page, status report. What have those moronic fools done now?"

"The KSHT are now being held against their will with the assembled Pantheon, which
now includes all the major players sir. The Black Hat, now calling himself Hatman, was
captured by Excelsior and Good, Inc. and teleported away. For a while there seemed to be
some sort of confusion, and temporal flux or something, and a demon appeared. Imp has
lost his soul to Jester, rather gruesomely in fact. The Pantheon appears to be having some
sort of conference now, probably deciding the fate of the KSHT."

"Hmm" Mr. Mimic walks over to his desk and activates a small panel. He presses a few
buttons, and speaks into the panel. "Sweeper team, level 1 priority. CEO-red team.
Target: KSHT currently being held in Brass Lamp. Anyone else that is in there, feel free
to take out. All living creatures in that bar are acceptable targets, but I want the KSHT
dead. No precision please, I want it the way Das Capitan likes it, with a little chaos." He
chuckled to himself and turned to Yellow Page. "Any objections Page? I could include
you on the list."

Yellow Page's horrified face lasted only a moment. The death at the hands of one of
Mimic's Corporation Enforcer/Operatives was not a pretty one, and he wisely chose life
over team loyalties. "None at all Mr. Mimic. I'll keep you updated on the progress."

"Thank you Page. I was sure you would see things my way." Mr. Mimic walked across
the room and stepped through a pair of big double doors into his personal dining area.
Lunch, of course, is essential to the survival of even the most ruthless man.
The Brass Lamp

Das Capitan grinned wickedly. Here he had all of the 'Pantheon' together. While B.O.Z.
babbled on about his plans for this group, feigning niceties to Das Capitan, the giant
man's mind wandered. He thought of them all milling around the other room of the Brass
Lamp. And here, he had one of his main contenders, the Notorious B.O.Z., in the same
room with him. He hoped that those 'Pantheon' fools had enough sense to keep the KSHT
under control. Who to kill first? An assembled Pantheon, indeed. These idiots actually
fell for such a foolish notion. Now, with them all gathered here, I can dispose of those
powerful enough to oppose me, and retain those that are weak enough to serve me.

From the other room, Das Capitan could hear Jester alternately whining and screaming.
"Goone!? GOONE?! I wanted some of his body for my collection! I guess I'll have to
take some of you then!" Jester whirled on the nearest unsuspecting patron and hacked off
his arm, a leg, and some other extremities. Das Capitan excused himself from B.O.Z. for
a moment and hovered into the other room.

"What are you doing now, Jester?"

"The body, or should I say, what's left of it; Das Capitan! *hrrrngh* redWrath is GONE!
disappeared!"

"Nonsense, it didn't just disappear! Pureheart may have cleaned it up, go take out some of
your frustration on him."

Jester glanced through to the back room at Pureheart facing a sink. "Tha..that may not
be..such a BAD idea! Hrr-haa-hraaah!"

Das Capitan glanced around the room. "Where did that fool, the Imp go?"

"Hmm..hragh. He told me some story about the Pantheon being heroes in another
dimension, I gave him his soul BACK!"

"Jester. Don't play games with me. I know you wouldn't live up to your namesake and do
anything that foolish."

"You know me well, mien Capitan. I still have it HERE!" with that Jester brandished a
small padded case and showed the Capitan the glowing orb inside. "What I gave him to
SWALLOW was filled with ACID that will eat through his body once it HITS his
stomach; hraaaaagh-ghah-HA-HA!"

"Well done my pet. I'm sure Michaella will want to reward you once I'm finished with the
OzObserver." And with that, Das Capitan floated back into the conference room.
The MimicCorp Tower

Mr. Mimic returned from eating his delectable lunch to find his office dark, almost cold.
"Lights!" he commanded, but even then they only brightened to about halfway. His chair
was facing the far wall opposite him. He stepped towards his desk, and his chair began to
rotate slowly towards him. A wicked a particularly grotesque face greeted his.

"redWrath? I thought Das Capitan killed you. Your face looks like Hell."

"Exactly," redWrath grinned wickedly. "Good boys go to Heaven. But bad boys" he
chuckled as he stood from the chair. "We make deals with Dark Lords."

"I guess the reports of your death weren't exaggerated then."

"No, they weren't, in a way. I can get my soul back, but I have to exchange it for the soul
of ...a true believer." He chuckles again, and is almost joined by Mr. Mimic who allows
himself a grin.

"They're pretty scarce on K Street. But I do believe that I know where one is. Here's some
new information I just received. It has several locations that might be the base for
Excelsior. Some of the details are sketchy on others, there are dimensional warps also
factored in, he could be operating outside our reality. I'll set you up with one of our small
VTOL jets and two of my CEO officers. They should be able to assist you in your hunt.
Do you need any weaponry?"

redWrath pulled a gun out of a hidden holster that Mimic hadn't noticed. "No thanks. In
hell, they equip you well. Recognize this? Patented grade-A demonic weaponry, the
Tarterus .666, deadliest firearm alive, literally. Got it with a lifetime supply of proto-
demons, too."

The com-link on the wall crackled to life. "Mr. Mimic? This is CEO-red team leader. We
are in target range, proceeding with planned operation."

"Very well red team leader." Mr. Mimic spoke into the com-link. Then he turned to
redWrath. "Are you in a hurry? I think there's a great show coming on that you can't
miss." He turned back to the com. "Team leader, have operatives 3, 8, and yourself attach
and activate an WAC (Weapons Attack Camera) to their weapons. I think I want to enjoy
this." Mr. Mimic settled down in his chair as redWrath leaned against the desk.

Chapter 31: No Longer In The Sewer, Something Panics...

(by Merlin)

The Merlcow's Left head's bleary eyes began to clear. What was going on? It knew it had
been in the bricked off toilet, trying desperately not too make a sound (after realising that
the heroes it had come to help were all gone and all that was left were a lot of very evil,
very angry psychopaths looking for something to kill), but then it had heard a crash and
everything went black for a couple of seconds.

There was somebody standing over it, and Left could feel teleportation energies (all too
hurtfully familiar from when Left had been able to wield teleportation magic itself, before
it was merged) begin to lock in. Perhaps the Pantheon had found it and was going to
teleport it away to some hellish torture chamber, or into the heart of the nearest sun!?!

Lashing out in panic, the Merlcow struck upwards with its massive right hoof, knocking
the person standing over it through the already partial dissembled brick wall. Leaping to
its feet, it charged through the wall after the creature, shaking itself to wake up the still
unconscious Right head. As Right awoke it let out a bovine roar of anger and inhaled
deeply to trace the scent of whoever it was that had landed on the back of its head. There
she was, on the opposite side of the bar in the pile of rubble, Left must have thrown her
there. Her scent was familiar, someone they had known from before, but Right couldn't
place exactly wh-

Suddenly the Merlcow stopped. Time slowed as thoughts ran from one head to the other.

The.

Opposite.

Side.

Of.

The.

Bar.

But that would mean that it was, ..was...

Was.

Standing.

In.

The.

Middle.

Of.

The.
Bar.

And it was surrounded by... by... the.. the...

Pan.

The.

On.

...

Oh.

Crap.

Left took charge and, running on pure adrenaline, did something really stupid. It tried to
bluff their way out.

"We, are the Merlcow. Spurned by the heroes we once called friends, we have come to
join the Pantheon!"

Around the room, the assembled agents of Evil remained silent. One or two blinked. A
few loosened the safeties on various high-calibre fire arms. Right gulped. It hoped Left
knew what they were doing.

"And as a token of our loyalty we have uncovered this person sent to spy on you!"
finished Left as dramatically as he could manage.

Das Capitan looked at the Merlcow, and then at the crumpled body of Contraband on the
other side of the bar, just as her teleporter finished its power up and she zapped away. The
Merlcow's Left head smiled nervously while the Right muttered a bovine expletive. What
the hell, Das Capitan thought, It'll just be one less to hunt down and kill later on.

"Very well, you're in." he/she said eventually, before returning to the conference room.

The Merlcow let out a collective breath, before turning to introduce itself to its new 'team
mates'. It was a creature used to making the best out of a bad situation and they didn't
come much worse than this. If it had to pretend to be a villain in order to be a hero when
the time was right, then that is what it would do and hopefully in the mean time things
couldn't get any worse.

Mimic-Corp's CEO-red team burst through the still gaping hole in the ceiling.

Things got worse.

Chapter 32: Going Nowhere Soon
(by Maximum Deathblood)

It starts out the same. Every night.

The room is dark. The dull glow of an incandescent light bulb shines from the ceiling.

I try to move. I can't. I am pressed up against the cold brick wall, face first. My arms are
bound to the wall by chains, my ankles clasped by steel cuffs to the floor -- this isn't a
room; it's a prison cell.

No. Something worse.

A door in the corner of the room opens.

A slim, female figure enters. She is dressed in purple and black. Silhouetted against the
darkness of the room, her white skin shines like a beacon in the night, one to which my
eyes and very mind are drawn. She is my life. She is my death.

She is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.

I feel the back of her pale white finger brush the side of my face as she pours oil down
my back. I feel her hot breath against my face as she whispers into my ear promises of
power.

I feel the burning pain in my back as her whip slashes across my back.

"Do you like this?" she mutters.

*CRACK!*

"Yes..." I reply through gritted teeth.

*CRACK!*

"Beg. I can give you power. Do you want power? Power to destroy?"

*CRACK!*

"Yes... please... I beg you...." My eyes are filling with water.

My arms and legs are freed, though my legs fell like jelly. I collapse to the ground and
into her arms. She cradles my head in her arms as she opens up a small vial and pours the
blood of a forgotten god down my throat.

"Say it," she breaths to me.

My throat is dry as I begin the arcane incantaion. "Pray for me, O Saint Liefeld, for I
readily recommend myself to you, who are the speedy helped and intercessor of my
soul..."

And suddenly, I burn.

The pain.

I look at my hands, and they are someone else's. They're changing. I'm changing. My
body feels like it's being ripped apart. My legs suddenly feel as if they are being
stretched. My arms feel bloated. My chest. My face. My soul.

And the pain. God the pain someone kill me now can't bear it feel like I can't think got to
stop hurts kill me death blood boiling red blind kill death blood kill kill KILL KILL -

Earth E
K Street
The Brass Lamp
One Hour Ago

Maximum Deathblood awoke with a scream.

If he hadn't forgotten how to do so, he would be crying. With one miniscule hand, he
wiped the sweat from his line-covered brow and rubbed his squinting eyes. Every night
he went through the same ordeal. He'd waken up drenched in sweat, sure that he'd been
dreaming of something horrible.

But for the life of him, he couldn't remember what.

Nevermind. He got out of bed, strapped on his shoulderpads and multi-pouched belts, and
made sure each and every one of his thousands of guns was loaded.

There was a knock on his door. "Das Capitan wants you downstairs, Max," said
Deathwish. "He's got a mission for us."

The North Pole

The Fortress of Solitude
Still one hour ago
The stern Regulars and Good, Inc, had departed fifteen minutes ago, now en route to K
Street. Hatman was left alone, appropriately enough, in the Fortress of Solitude.

This wasn't right. It couldn't be. Fanboy and his lackeys thinking that they were the forces
of good. It had to be a trick.

He wondered what Fanboy had in store for him, as he wandered through the abandoned
fortress. He passed a mysterious dark room and walked in. A flick of a switch revealed
the presence of a communications console.

Good. Maybe I can contact the Pantheon, warn them about what's coming for them.

His eyes scanned the console as he sat down. He tapped a button, and suddenly, the Shi'ar
enhanced machinery began whirring. Within seconds, the screen lit up. Shortly after that,
the system had completed uplink to a SHIELD surveilance spy satelite -- it's target: K
Street.

K Street
Thirty minutes ago

"Eat me!" Cepheid X cried in defiance.

"I think I will." Deathwish plunged his fist into Cepheid's chest, and a strange white light
appeared. "Das Capitan doesn't want you in his new order. I'd hate to disappoint him.
Believe me, this is a mercy."

"You're a bunch of f*cking ANIMALS." muttered B8 as he snapped the neck of a

bystander and threw the lifeless body between himself and the gunfire hailing forth from
one of several of Maximum Deathblood's machine guns. Which didn't do a bit of good
against the bazooka shell Maniaq fired. The explosion tore straight through the flesh and
into Master B8's lower leg. He fell to the ground.

Maximum Deathblood towered over MasterB8 and punched him in the face. "Join us. Or
die."

"Never. I am damn sure I will never become one of you. I am better than that."

"Woah. Concept time." Maniaq pointed to the human shield a few feet away.

MasterB8 shrugged. "I had a bad day."

"I'll give you a bad day."

Deathwish, Jester, and Maniaq watched as Maximum Deathblood rended MasterB8 limb
from limb.

And somewhere, half a hemisphere away, Hatman watched, as Jester began picking up
the body parts.

K Street
The Brass Lamp
Now

Chaos.

Das Capitan should have been beaming with pride. Instead, he found himself and
everyone else in the Brass Lamp beset on all sides by gunfire from the MimicCorp
Corporation Enforcer/Operatives, touted by their designer as being "highly-trained,
combat armored, weapons out-the-butt attack squads."

He wasn't lying.

The Pantheon, lacking the Jester, Deathwish, Maniaq, and Maximum Deathblood, who
had been personally sent by Das Capitan to eradicate any remaining resistance, was
depleted in number. Yes, the Pantheon was powerful, and yes, as a group, they might
stand a chance against a cadre of technologically enhanced super-soldiers, but since, as
villains, the Pantheon was more versed in discretion than valor, they took the more
prudent choice:

They hid. Everyone in the room scampered for cover as the white-collar messengers of
death went to work, blasting away at anything and everything that moved.

And by the time they had left, the K Street Hit Team was dead.

Poodle Skirt and Slingshot were the first to go, having been caught unaware. The
Submissive went next, having inexplicably simply thrown himself into the line of fire,
almost as if he welcomed it. Lassie successfully tore out the throat of two CEOs before
he was finally put to sleep. Timmy met his end, soon thereafter. The Surprise(!) attempted
to sneak up to one from behind, to no avail; MimicCorm technology also included the
production of 360 degree radar. The Human Blacklight suffered an array of direct
gunshot wounds to various parts of his body. Buried Alive was buried alive beneath a pile
od rubble and debris. And one CEO fist was all it took to eliminate Jolt, the Hawaiian
Crusher.

And the Imp? Luckily he survived the attack. Unfortunately, his stomach was quickly
filling with acid, which he had ingested under the preconception that it was his soul.
The Fortress Of Solitude

Hatman tore his eyes away from the satelite-fed gut-wrenching scene of the obsceneties
which Jester was performing with human body parts.

He ran down the hall as his stomach turned in knots. he couldn't think straight. He
couldn't see straight. He fell to his knees vomited onto the cold floor.

This was wrong. They murdered. In cold blood.

How could this be happening? It was some sort of sick trick. Wasn't it? What if it's not?
Oh, lord. What if the Pantheon really are the bad guys?

Chapter 33: Index Cards From the Edge

(by Hatman)

Striding forward blindly in the darkness of the Fortress, lost in thought and confusion,
Hatman barely noticed the slight, dark form advancing towards him until it was upon
him.

And then suddenly, he was knocked flat on his back with a resounding "Ooomph!"

He leapt up quickly, Boomerang Fedora at the ready, certain that Fanboy or one of his ilk
had finally had enough of the illusion, and decided to attack. "Lights!" he called out...but
in this reality, the Fortress computers were no longer keyed to his voice.

A dark mass huddled across from him on the floor, still and silent. A low, female groan
escaped from it a moment later as it stirred. "Unngh...Lights, please," it said quietly.

Obediently, the floodlights mounted in the ceiling of the Fortress blazed to life. Hatman
tensed, shrugging off his sudden blindness and waiting for the inevitable attack...

...and was surprised when none came.

Squinting against the sudden brightness of the Fortress, he lowered his brim over his eyes
and looked again at the figure on the floor...at the slight woman who was pulling herself
together and smiling at him sheepishly.

He blinked in sudden recognition. "Olga?!?" he cried.

Olga, the Flower-Gypsy of J Street, pulled herself to her feet, then bent over to retrieve
her mop and spilled bucket. "Sorry, sir," she said in her pidgin English. "Many, many
pardons. I not know that anyone was in here. I go and clean somewhere else."

"No! Wait!" Hatman grabbed her by the arms before she had a chance to turn away from
him. "Olga, please...you're the only one that I still recognize...please, tell me what's going
on!"

Olga looked up at him in surprise. "Going on? What do you mean? I certainly do not
know what you are--"

Olga broke off suddenly, her eyes going wide with fear as she got her first good look at
his face. Screaming in fear, she reached up and pulled the brim of his fedora down over
his eyes, and kicked him in the shin. As Hatman cried out in surprise and pain, Olga
broke away from him and went running down the hall.

"Olga! Wait!" Yanking the Fedora off his head, Hatman tucked it back into his cape,
replacing it with a canvas Fishing Hat, covered with hooks, lures, and a spool of fishing
line. Mounting it on his head, he concentrated on the retreating woman and silently
mouthed a command. Immediately one of the lures shot out from the Fishing Hat, trailing
behind it a long thread of fishing line. The Hat-line whizzed towards her, quickly
overtaking her, and wrapped itself around her several times.

With a stifled scream, Olga tripped as the line wrapped itself around her legs, and fell to
the polished steel floor once again.

"Olga! Olga, are you okay?" Hat cut his hat-line and rushed forward, replacing the
Fishing Hat with his trademark Fedora. "Olga, honey, I'm sorry, but I need answers! I
have to know what's going on, here!"

"HELP!" Olga screamed fearfully as Hatman walked towards her. "KRYPTO! MR.
EXCELSIOR! HELP ME! THE BLACK HAT IS IN THE FORTRESS! THE BLACK
HAT IS GOING TO KILL ME!!!"

Hatman grimaced. There it was, that 'Black Hat' thing again. "Olga, shh! Shhh! Honey,
quiet...listen for a second...it's me, Hatman! I'm not going to hurt you!"

Olga struggled against her bonds and started to scream again. Hatman leapt forward and
covered her mouth with his hand, afraid that her screams might bring Fanboy and the
others villains running.

"Shhh!" he hissed again. "Geez, Olga, don't you recognize me? It's Hatman! I've bought
flowers from you thousands of times!! We've seen each other practically every day for the
last six months!! It was your sister who turned me on to J Street in the first place!"

Olga's eyes frowned at this confusedly. Encouraged by the fact that she had stopped
struggling, Hatman plunged on. "Yes, Olga. Your sister. She works in Toronto--she's a
cleaning lady for CLUE--ah, The Classified Lab of Undisclosed Experimentation. She
helped me and Hank out on a case, once. She wrote you about it. (1) Later, when bad
things started happening on J Street, you begged her to send us to help." (2) He looked at
her, pleading with his eyes. "Don't you remember?"

The confused creases in Olga's forehead deepened slightly, and she stopped struggling
against the Hatline altogether. Taking a chance, Hatman took his hand away from her
mouth.

"Helga..." she said softly. "Yes, is true that Helga works in Toronto. And is true that she
write to me about you, about the horrible things that you do to the criminals there." She
paused and shuddered. "But...J Street...I do not know of this. What is this 'J Street?'"

Hatman jerked back, surprised. "Olga...J Street is where you live...in Washington DC. It's
where Hank and I first met you, and Joe Grendel, and Jonah. It's the place the Pantheon
calls home!"

Olga jolted at the mention of the word 'Pantheon' as though he'd slapped her. Vigorously,
she shook his head. "No, no..you not fool me with your trick, Black Hat! Olga knows
where she lived...on K Street, before you and your lackeys tried to kill me for not paying
you protection money from my flowers!!"

Hatman blanched at this. "K Street? What...?"

"They would have killed Olga if Mister Excelsior and his friends had not saved me and
brought me here! Now I am cleaning lady, just like my sister...I clean for the heroes who
save my life." She snorted derisively at Hatman, who drew back slowly. "Huh. 'J Street'.
You'll not fool Olga with that one! Everybody knows that there is no J Street in
Washington!"

Hatman blinked at her. "No J Street? Well, no, Olga, everybody knows that, but...but..."
Losing his grip on the situation, Hatman stood up and shook his head softly. "Damnit,
Olga, help me out, here! What the hell is going on!"

"I believe I may be able to answer that."

Hatman spun around. Though he'd not heard anyone coming up behind them, a strangely
familiar figure now stood in the Fortress with them, his head inclined slightly in greeting.

"You!" Hatman shouted, his hand flying to the brim of his fedora. "The Mysterious Mr.
E! So you're responsible for all this!"

"Hold your hat, hero," the villain said, holding up one hand. "Look closer. You'll see that,
just like everything else in this dimension, I'm not quite as you remember your nemesis.
My name is Timewalker, this dimension's counterpart to your 'Mr. E.'"
Hatman stared at him blankly. It was true, now that he took a second to look. Though
there was a superficial resemblance between this guy and Mr. E., the man standing in
front of him was somehow taller...grander...more palatable...

"Another Fanboy illusion," Hatman said out loud, not lowering his guard.

Timewalker smiled. "You told me you'd say that. But consider: if Exel--sorry, if 'Fanboy'
were behind this, why would he convert the rest of the Pantheon and not you. If he has
the power to convert the likes of--" Timewalker consulted an index card in the palm of
his hand-- "Captain Pantheon and The Mighty Hank!, why ignore you?"

Hatman considered this. "I've been out of action for awhile," he said. "And I'd just gotten
back. Fanboy might have overlooked me, not realized that I'd returned."

"It wouldn't have mattered," Timewalker rebutted. "If this were a fantasy projection, it
wouldn't just be Pantheon-specific. It would be wide-spread to the entire populace of K
Stree--pardon me, "J Street", in order for Olga to be fooled as well. You would not have
escaped that, surely. Excelsior is more thorough than that."

Hatman stared at Timewalker, hesitant to believe him, but hesitant to attack as well. "I've
broken Fanboy's hold on me before," he tried, "after he trapped me in an IRCube for
several months and wiped my memory clean. It's possible that somehow I'm immune to
his power now."

Timewalker smiled at this. "Splendid! Splendid! You're every bit as skeptical as you said
you would be! Good! Now I can 'pull my rabbit out of my hat', as you said. What fun!"
And with that, Timewalker handed him the index card.

Hatman stared at it for a moment, then cautiously accepted it from Timewalker. Looking
down, he was surprised to find written in his own handwriting:

Mr. E is telling the truth, no matter what you believe. There is no J Street here.
Good is bad, and bad is...well-meaning, at any rate.

Listen to the villains, as much as you don't want to. Especially Fanboy. Once you
find Joe Grendel, stick with him, he's the real hero of the bunch.

Don't call Hank, he'll call you.

Remember, even Shazam has an Achille's heel.

-- Your future self, Hatman

Hatman continued to stare at it long after he'd finished reading it.

"Well?"Timewalker asked.
"It could be faked. Reverse-Hat could forge my handwriting, easily. As could an
alternate-reality version of myself..."

"Really!" Timewalker laughed. "You really are quite impossible, aren't you! And I didn't
believe you when you said you'd be so difficult to convince." He shrugged and handed
Hatman another card. "Oh well," he sighed, "I suppose you know you best."

Hat looked down at the second card. It read:

You had a second chance with Hunter, and you blew it again. But you got Hank
back, so no matter how much it hurts it was worth it, right?

You're wearing your lucky 'Magilla Gorilla' boxer-shorts under your costume.

Your grandfather once called Darth Vader a 'pansy in a black mask'. That was the
day he introduced you to Superman, though he put Indiana Jone's hat on him at the
time.

And don't tell anyone this...but all this excitement and adrenelin has given you a
stiffie that a cat couldn't scratch.

Trust him, stupid. He's telling the truth.

--Hat

Hatman gawked at the note and looked down at himself.

Timewalker smiled. "He was right, you know. Either that's a time-wand in your pocket, or
you're real happy to see me."

Hatman looked up at him speechlessly, burning a deep crimson red.

"I peeked," Timewalker explained. "Listen, Hatman, I must go. I have to appear to
Excelsior in the past and drop several enigmatic hints about your presence in our
dimension."

Hatman frowned at this. "Excelsior?"

Timewalker grinned knowingly. "All will be explained in time, my friend. Farewell. It

was an honor meeting you. I will not see you again, I fear...but trust me when I tell you
that you shall see me."

Hatman winced and shook his head. His headache had returned.

"Farewell, hero! May the light guide you through your darkest hour!!" Timewaker
repeated. He waved once, solemnly, then disappeared.

Hatman sighed, fighting back the wave of despair that threatened to overwhelm him.
After everything that had happened in the last few days...finally winning Hunter's
affection...losing Hank in the worst way possible...then getting him back again, but at
such a cost...and returning to find that the price still hadn't been paid in full...

After all that, he still couldn't rest. He still wasn't at home.

But he couldn't worry about that now. If Timewalker was right--and according to some
future-version of himself, he was--he had a job to do. There were lives to save and
villains to foil. Evil, as Hank would say, was afoot. And no matter what dimension he was
in, it was up to Hatman to stomp on Evil's toes until that last little piggy went wee-wee-
wee, all the way home!

He was just about to turn around and untie Olga when he heard a slight popping noise to
his left. Heaving a mighty sigh worthy of his best friend, Hatman slumped his shoulders
and said 'Look, whoever you are, you'd better have good news for me, or I'm going to
punch you directly in the nose."

"What in Gabriel's name--?" came a familiar voice.

"Olga!" cried another--the Secret Elder's from the sounds of it. "The [illegitimate son]'s
jumped Olga!"

Hatman grinned in spite of himself in relief. It looked like his future-self had been wrong
in at least one thing. He spun to his right and smiled openly. "Joe," he breathed. "Man am
I glad to see y--"

He was cut off by the sounds of a heavenly gun being cocked, and a divine sword being
unsheathed.

"You," Pureheart said, in as dangerous a voice as he could manage, "have a lot to answer
for, mister..."

1) Hatman, The Mighty Hank and Hunter Green called on the aid of Hunter's old friend,
Helga the Cleaning Lady, to gain access to the Classified Lab of Undisclosed
Experimentation in the original timeline of the soon-to-be-completed LEGENDS OF
WORLD'S LAMEST TEAM: ARROWS & SLINGS. Back...

2) It is Olga's summons that originally brings the WORLD'S LAMEST TEAM to the
interdimensional nexus of J Street, where they are then approached by Jonah, The
Monitor for their aid in assembling a group of heroes to combat the menace of the Anti-
Monitor. See PANTHEON COMICS #16: GENESIS for further details. Back...
Chapter 34: Showdown at the KS Lantern
(by Mope!)

This chapter picks up the scene of the K Street Lantern, following the events of
Chapters 32 and 33.

MimicCorp CEO death-stalkers have set up a perimeter in and around the Lantern...
waiting for the "big guns." They didn't have to wait long.

A greyish-purplish bullet-sized streak flew through the Lantern, dashing hither-and-

thither from Pantheon corpse to Pantheon corpse, lingering and dashing most about the
corpse of Buried Alien (think of the bullet-blur as a cross between Tinkerbelle and the
Tazmanian Devil) and then zapped out the the hole the CEO's blasted in through. One
rookie CEO tries to make a shot at the diminutive dynamo, but an older veteran stills him,
knowing the fruitlessness of trying to hit a bullet, and possibly causing a friendly-fire
bloodbath.

The bullet streamed into the skies above K Street, stopped, and sprouted LEGS and
ARMS hundreds of yards long, the Godzilla-sized legs landing in the Potomac and the
Mall respectively...

Steam and mist rolled off the mile-tall DAS CAPITAN,

ID4-ish ominous clouds parting with his every movement,
as he lurked in RAGE and FURY, his legs meeting at a
point directly over the K Street Lantern

PANTHEON ASSEMBLE!!!
Das Capitan's voice rumbles throughout K Street, and Washington DC proper for that
matter. Glass shatters, young babies go deaf, nuns have heart-attacks. Within seconds,
they gather from throughout K Street and the Multiverses at large, swirling and
converging about Das Capitan's boots. With that, Das Capitan returned to a more
manageable, but almost-equally imposing 10 feet tall.

Within seconds, the Pantheon had the Lantern surrounded. Not a shot had yet been fired.
Within, the MimicCorp CEO's posed, ready to unleash their fiery weaponry. The air was
thick with impatience, hate, and fury...

Das Capitan ROARED OUT "MIMIC!"

The astutely dressed businessman stepped out from the alley beside the gun-shop that in
other worlds Olga used to sell flowers.

Mr. Mimic: "There's no reason to shout. Some of us still have our hearing" (smiling,
crossing his arms as Joe Galladiator and Perverted at 4AM trained put the "heavy" on
him).

Das Capitan rustled a little, looking at his masses, considering how to handle Mimic. He
stretched out wings (borrowed from Martian shapeshifters...), as evil plasma's stretched
forth imposingly, causing a growing shadow that stops exactly at Mimic's eye, (a very
cinematic shot, you have to imagine it)

Das Capitan paused, scanning Mimic somehow.

Mimic: That's right, Das Capitan. You're wondering how my men were able to ambush
your lesser legions without your knowing it. (Mr. Mimic nods... and Grey J'onn steps
forth from the darkness, standing side-by-side with Mimic). "I had some telepathic...
help. And now I'm here to finish all this, you wretch, you "Das Capitan". You think you
have power? I'll show you power."

Mimic steps a little closer to Das Capitan, and gains a new glow as he rises, emananating
with power similar to Das Capitan's...

The new improved MIMIC ROARS at Das Captian.

Das Capitan smiles somewhere within his leather, fishhooks, and armor. He thinks to
himself, "He should know better. You cannot mimic a mimic and get a perfect copy.....
HahahahahahhahhahahhahHAHAHAHA!!!!"

Of course, on the outside, Das Capitan budged not an inch, his forces only strengthened
by the glory of the fight that is sure to come...

Chapter 35: Only the good...

(by Pureheart)

Several hours and a ride in the JLA transporter later ...

The intersection of 34th and K Streets

Deathwish walked down the street, white energy pouring from his ring, exploding parked
cars.

"That's right; RUN! The Pantheon's not dead! We're here and this city is OURS!"
Grendel, crouched in an adjacent alley, glanced back at Hatman.

"Look, I don't know why I should believe you about being from an alternate Earth ..."

"Hey, Joe ..."

Grendel held a hand up.

"But I have to trust you. Don't let me down." He drew his sword, then twisted his wrist,
letting the blade spin in his hand. The light flashed off the gold letters embossed in the
blade: "Victory belongs to the warrior with the pure heart."

Hatman peeked around the corner, watching Borelli rend a UPS truck open.

"A sword? You're going after him with a gun and a sword?"

Grendel frowned, twisting his wedding ring again.

"Someone has to, Stephen. If we can stop Deathwish, that'll make taking down the rest of
the Pantheon that much easier ... besides it's not just us ..."

Hatman glanced up as a pair of armored warriors streaked overhead, carried by boot jets.

"Shogun? Amon-Ra?"

Grendel frowned.

"Daimyo and Osiris." He leaned forward, to be heard over the high-pitched whine of
Osiris' solar cannon and the buzz of Daimyo's energy sword. "And they're not all ..."

Hatman jumped as he heard a familiar concussive blast. Piledriver ... or whatever he was
called on Earth E.

"Jack Hammer," Grendel said, in answer to the unspoken question. "Which means
Bankshot will be along soon ... ready to pound Deathwish at superspeed." He stepped
away from Hatman, preparing to round the corner. "This isn't your fight; just hang back,
OK?"

Borelli's laughter boomed down the street.

"Good, Incorporated? What kind of name is that?" There were two explosions as Daimyo
and Osiris were roasted inside their armor. "Is this the best you can do?"

Grendel raced around the corner, as Hatman watched from the shadows. Had it only been
a year since he'd first met Grendel, since Jonah the Monitor had introduced the two of
them?
"You two shall be magnets of my Pantheon, the positive and negative poles around which
all the heroes shall gather." Grendel had had some choice words about that kind of
pompous talk ... and yet, here he was, watching a Joe Grendel run off to face odds which
would scare the Mighty Hank ...

Deathwish stood in the middle of the street, bathed in a fine coat of sweat from the heat
of the exploding cars and armor. Bankshot raced down the painted lines in the middle of
the street, aiming a stop sign like a lance ...

"Oh, please." Deathwish reached out, sending a pale energy blade scything through
Bankshot's knees. The hero skidded 30 feet on his torso, leaving a smear of blood behind
him.

"AAAAAAAUGH!" Blood sprayed from his severed thighs. "Jack!"

"Young love," Deathwish smirked. "How sweet." He created a guilotine blade and lopped
Bankshot's head off.

"NOOOOOO!" Jack Hammer stepped out from behind a parked car, firing concussive
burst after concussive burst from his hands, tears streaming from his eyes. The blasts
echoed dramatically off Deathwish's ghostly aura.

"Go 'way, boy, ya bother me." Deathwish slapped two giant energy hands together on
Jack Hammer, grinding him into a maroon gel.

Get out of here, Grendel! Hatman's eyes grew wide. Borelli will kill you too!

Instead, Grendel knealt down, grabbing a Honda Civic by the bumper. With a grunt, he
lifted one end off the ground, then began spinning round-and-round, like an Olympic
hammer thrower, finally flinging the Honda at Deathwish's back.

"Hey! That actually HURT!" Deathwish, his eyes blazing, rotated slowly in space. "Mr.
Grendel! I've been waiting for this for a long time ... I ever tell you what a lousy
bartender you are?"

In response, Grendel pulled his sword with his left hand, gun with his right.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death," Grendel squeezed off
two rounds, which landed in Deathwish's shoulder, much to the villain's surprise. "I will
fear no evil."

"What the? Oh, right ... blessed bullets. I guess they WOULD cut through my ring's
power source ..."

"For you are with me," Grendel continued walking, aiming the pistol at Deathwish's
skull-and-crossbones in the middle of his chest, "Your rod and your staff, they comfort
me."

"Not any more they don't!" Deathwish sent a spectral snake leaping at the pistol, jerking
it from Grendel's hand, chewing it up, spitting out the shattered pieces. "You're so
[fornicating] DEAD, Grendel!"

"You prepare a table for me in the presence of mine enemies." Grendel transferred the
sword to his right hand, spinning the blade again, the words "pure heart" flashing in the
sunlight. "You anoit my head with oil."

"Good idea ..." Deathwish wrapped Grendel in misty barbed wire, slicing open the hero's
brow, covering him in hundreds of tiny cuts. His white jeans and jacket were spotted with
blood in dozens of places.

"My cup overflows." Grendel, licking his dry lips, sliced through the energy with his
sword, and continued marching toward Deathwish.

You can't beat him! Hatman looked through his inventory of trick hats, trying to find
something that could beat, or even just slow Deathwish down. Don't do this!

"Surely, goodness and love," Grendel was blasted back off his feet by a ring blast.

"Will you SHUT UP?!" Borelli's face was red with rage. "You're going to die here,
pointlessly, you little worm!"

Grendel slowly got to his feet, the blood loss visibly weakening him. He started to twirl
his sword again, but had to grip the sword with both hands to hold onto it.

"Surely, goodness and love ... AAAIGH!" The white energy receded from his crotch,
where Deathwish had just exploded his testicles. Grendel staggered a few steps to the
right, looking as though he might faint. "Surely goodness and love ... will follow me all
the days of my life."

"I'll SHUT YOU UP!" Deathwish reached into a ring-created hyperspatial pocket. "You
know where I got my power today?" He sent an energy hook whipping at Grendel,
ripping out his left eye. "I got it from HER!"

He yanked out the severed head of Elizabeth Grendel.

"I killed her slow ... after she admitted I was more of a man than you could ever be.

Grendel, blood pouring from his left eye, hot tears from his right, stood in the street,
dripping blood on the pavement. After a long moment, he raised his sword, and continued
walking toward Deathwish.
"Surely, goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life." He was within 20 feet
of Deathwish now, and broke into a jog, avoiding the burning bodies of Daimyo and
Osiris. "And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever!"

With a roar, he swung at Deathwish, slicing through the energy shield. But white coils of
energy snagged his arms and ripped the sword from him.

"I said ... SHUT ... UP!" A white vise was thrust into Grendel's mouth, clamping on his
lower jaw. It shut, and even half a block away, Hatman could hear Grendel's jawbone get
ground to powder.

Deathwish released Grendel, who staggered back, his lower jaw a limp piece of meat,
hanging below his mouth. Blood soaked his pants, his forehead, pumped from his
eyesocket, from countless cuts all along his body.

"Not so smart now, are you Grendel?" Borelli held Elizabeth Grendel's head up to his lips
and gave it a big kiss. "Who's the big man NOW?"

He gestured to the sword, held aloft by a tentacle of energy and it raced toward the
haggard Grendel. Pureheart put his hands out in front of him, as if to block the sword, but
the blade pierced both of them, running through his chest, and out his back.

Grendel fell to his knees, then sprawled backwards.

Hatman found that he was crying, ashamed that he was afraid Deathwish would hear him.

Oh, God, Joe ...

Deathwish walked over to Grendel, who was alive, staring wildly with his one good eye.
Deathwish, gripping Elizabeth's hair, struck Joe across the face with the head of his wife.
Grendel fell to the side, making quiet whimpering noises.

Deathwish, looking oddly disappointed, tossed the head away, then leaned down and
pulled the sword out of Grendel's hands and chest. Pureheart lay on the pavement, blood
puddling around him, unable to get up, speak, fight back any longer.

"Pathetic. You could have been such a bad ass, if you wanted to." Deathwish dropped the
sword across Grendel's chest.

To Grendel, the world suddenly seemed to smear as Deathwish took off, as though some
heavenly painter had slid his hand across a canvas of wet paint. Darkness.

A few moments later, he returned to consciousness, his vision clearing. He held up one
tattered hand before his eye. He was dying. He had failed ... He struggled up on one
elbow, clutching the blade to his chest with a forearm.
"Haaahhuuuh!" He jerked his head at Hatman, beckoning him. The hero stumbled toward
him, and the world smeared again ...

A gentle slapping at his cheek, and the sound of crying, brought him back to
consciousness.

"Please don't die, Joe, please don't!" Salty tears fell from the young hero's face, burning
Grendel's open wounds. Unfortunately, he had no words to say so, and it wouldn't matter
soon anyway.

He slapped at the sword across his chest, then tapped a bloody paw to Hatman's uniform,
leaving a red mark there.

"Fuuhh hooo!"

Hatman frowned, his skin gray, his eyes wide.

"I don't ... I ... OK." He lifted the sword, noticing how light it was, the sunlight again
glinting off the words "Victory belongs to the warrior with the pure heart."

"OK, Joe, I'll carry on for you."

Grendel's head lolled back, a gasping noise burbling up through the blood in his mouth.

The world smeared around him once more, but it now seemed filled with a million lights,
coalescing into one. He felt as though he was being physically jerked from his body,
transported upwards ...

Elizabeth? I'm coming, my love ...

Chapter 36.5: Buried Alive!

(by The Imp)

Uggh., thought Imp, my stomach hurts like f*cking hell.

Then, Imp did what Jester thought wouldn't happen. He barfed.

Up came the "soul" and the rest of his lunch.

Acid doesn't sit nicely in my stomach, Jester,thought The Imp,But now, it's payback time.

The Imp called apon his dark lord, and asked for a favor. The resurrection of Buried
Alive.
Soon enough, Buried Alive was once again living, and he used his powers to ressurrect
the rest of the KSHT.

The team was living again, and was pissed.

"Mimic shouldn't f*ck with us. IT'S PAYBACK TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!", said Buried
Alive.

Chapter 36: Evil is a foot!!!

(by Dom)

Hey everyone it's Del! No, not the horrible bad one, the cute one from Megami you have
all come to know and love! Dom G., let me write this intro. cuz she's letting me read this
story when my big sisters said that it was not "suitable for young audiences" (so please
don't tell them, if they find out, I'm in BIG trouble!). Anyway, it's been pretty good so far,
especially the part with those evil Deamonesses. You see this is Earth E were our good
guys are all really really evil including the Pantheon! Recently, they killed the President
at Mickey D's and the Deamonesses (The Goddesses evil counterparts!) are using that as
an excuse to go cause all sort of mayhem, except they don't realize that in reality Dom
(The bad one!) is actually plotting against them. Well I suppose I could tell you the whole
story over again, but Dom G said that she has to get on with this new chapter, and I
dunno about you, but I'd really like to see what happens next. So with out further ado,
Dom Gonzalez presents the next chapter on Earth E starring the Deamonesses...

Officer Miyuki was a good cop. Her family had come over from Japan and she went on to
make them proud as she raised a family with two wonderful kids and went on to become
one of DC's most outstanding community officers. Why does she do the things she does?
Well you ask her, it's not about the badge, the oath to protect and serve or the pension that
she can earn, it's about making this world a better place for kids. So when she hears a the
muffled cries of a young child coming from behind a bush she automatically investigates
to make things better, because she cares.

"Little Girl are you all right?" a crouching Officer Miyuki asked the child.

Once the child saw the officer, her cries became louder and she threw her arms around
Officer Miyuki. Sobbing she said, "Please help me find my mommy."

"Don't worry, little one, I will help you find your mother..." Officer Miyuki said as she
stroked the head of the sobbing girl, yet she was thinking to her self, "what an odd child,
her hair is a light pink that keeps changing colors. Almost iridescent. And it's texture, soft
and fine...like silk."
And then it started, Officer Miyuki felt a slight tug at the temple of her head, then she felt
like she was drowning and a few second later she was having convulsions. Del got up
smiling, proud of the work she had done. She needed energy for the task that Dom had
sent her on and this was the easiest way to get it, steal it from someone else. Her prey on
the other hand, did not have it so easy. Del just stole poor Officer Miyuki's soul, her
brains till functions, it just does not have anything to command, instead Officer Miyuki
will spend her entire life in constant agonizing pain, living only in a world of darkness
and emptiness.

Skipping away from the seizureing body of Officer Miyuki Del thought to herself, "Good
now that I go that over with, gotta get to the mission. Dom said I had to get in touch with
a member of the Pantheon. Pick a fight with him, and subdue him for her so that he can
be our Pantheon Mole! Seems pretty easy enough... now what was his name again...

WyldeCard's Laboratory in the All Night Men Caverns.

"$#!+! Where is that jar of Onezumi!" WyldeCard yelled to herself as she was
rummaging through her shelves full of potion ingredients. "I saw it here a few days ago!
Ah! There it is!"

She took out the jar from the Shelf and opened it. She reached in and pulled out a
creature not of this world. Small, furry, and ugly it let out shrilling screams that could
break glass. Clutching the creature tightly she just squeezed it tighter and tighter until
there was a loud snap and the once screaming struggling creature fell limp with it's mouth
oozing with blood.

She tossed the creature into her already brewing potion, "There almost done, all I need is
one more ingredient to complete the potion Dom asked me to make in order to make a
plague that will sap the powers from everyone except Deamonesses! And that ingredient
is right...." Wyldecard quickly turned around and faced an empty spot on one of her racks
of medicines.

"$#!+!"

Right outside of the White house

You'd think that with the president being assassinated not that long ago security on
Pennsylvania Avenue would be tighter, but that was clearly not the case. Herds of
mourners freely came and went to the front gate and left flowers and mementos in hour of
their beloved lost leader. One in the throng was a rather tall woman, wearing an all black
suit with a blood red scarf around her neck. She was carrying a huge wreath of roses
which she lay next to the rest of the floral arrangements. Once getting putting down the
monster arrangement she thought

"Dammit, that =*@^ing thing was heavy! Still that thing has enough plastique in it to
make Pennsylvania Ave into a crater. " Then she flashed back to what Dom had told her.
"Remember, Scrapper, just lay it down there, and when you are about 10 miles for the
area set off the detonator."

As Mistress Askani began to walk away from the White House she softly smiled.

Back in Dom's Throne Room.

"So did you get it?" Dom demanded as he walked into the room

"Of course I did," He said showing Dom the tape.

*Laughing* "Perfect" She said as she walked towards him.

"I did good this time didn't I?"

As Dom grabbed the table from his extended hand, "Yes you did, which is really bad,
because I was really looking forward to punishing you severely tonight..."

"Hey, there really is no reason you can't? I won't complain..." He said as Dom continued
walking past him towards the door. With a wave of her hand she changed clothing, "Hey
where are you going?" He asked rather concerned.

"Out" She responded, "with all this delicious disorder occurring I don't wanna miss it.
Plus, I wanna make sure the girls don't mess up and I have a few things to take care of..."

Chapter 37: Apollo Arises

(by Raymond Cox)

Excerpts from Raymond Cox's Journal.

This situation is not improving.

Working on K-Street, butting heads with the world's most powerful superhumans is not
something you can take lightly.
Not when people can kill you with nothing more than a stare.
Not when the most powerful and influential human, the president, has been killed.

This changes the game entirely.

It is time to take off the gloves. To separate the boys from the men. And to do anything
within my power to make sure this never happens again.

Special agent Raymond Cox remembered chief Mahoney's instructions when he had been
assigned to work on K-Street "Be very careful. Ever since the brass made peace with the
Pantheon, I have doubled my home insurance policy. This is madness. Why would they
build a powderhouse with those power hungry meta's merely a few blocks from the seat
of power is beyond me. President Jordan was advised by General Henderson that he
should give more power to the Super Human Control division so they can deal with the
meta threat. And his Secret Service elite bodyguards aren't worth spit. The SHC could
provide a better service than they do. They are trained to handle everything. I offered you
and two of the best agents to be in his service, but he rejected the idea. He may be the
president, but he's not the smartest one."

"I know that sir. I voted for the republican candidate, Oliver Queen."

"So did I. But keep that under your hat."

Keeping tabs on those guys was not hard. They didn't even bothered to mask their plots
nor their attacks. They pretty much teared through each other with glee. Until this
morning. Today, agent Raymond Cox received special instructions via the proverbial "red
phone".

"Agent Raymond Cox reporting. I have disposed of the threat of Magneto and..."

"Agent, this is chief Henderson speaking."

That got my full attention. Chief Gerard Henderson is CIA's main man. To get him to talk
to me means that something has been seriously screwed up.

"We're going to go through some dark times. President Jordan's been assassinated."

This was not of my liking. "What?"

"He was poisoned while eating at MacDonald's. We suspect metas. We have that
pantheon superhero Pureheart as a suspect and we got him in custody."

The conversation lasted a minute longer. I asked the chief whether he needed me at H.Q,
but said I was to remain in my post until he decided otherwise. I decided to go outside
and gather information. I checked every street that criss-crossed K-Street and came
empty-handed. Then I went inside The Brass Lamp right the minute all hell broke loose.

Every meta from K-Street collided in there. I was way out of my league in there. Since I
went to do some surveillance work, I had not packed any of my special weapons. The
only thing I saw worthwhile was when Das Captain offed redWrath.

Then I managed to sneak out of The Brass Lamp and I got back to my warehouse.

I decided to report back to headquarters.

"Agent Cox reporting."

"This is chief Henderson, agent. Pureheart was released a few hours ago after Shirad
came to us and gave us new information pointing to a meta by the name of redWrath as
the president's assassin."

"Scrub that, sir. RedWrath is dead. I got confirmation on that. And the whole Pantheon
has joined under Das Captains leash."

Chief Henderson kept silent. Then... "It's time to activate the Pantheon Protocols.
Authorization code: Malvolio."

"Yes sir." I looked around and located the special built-in safe one of my cabinets had.
"Yes sir." I stood up and introed the combination to the keypad. The safe opened. I took
several books out of it and began reading.

The K Street Brass Lamp.

The whole united Pantheon and the CEO forces of Mr. Mimic are in a Mexican standoff.
The leaders of both factions stand at an impossible 10 ft tall, eyeing each other with
murder in their hearts.

"Das Captain, there can only be one power inside K-Street. And I'm not planing on
retiring anytime soon."

"There's always retiring due lack of good health."

Mr. Mimic glowed with energy and smirked "Never."

The status quo is about to be broken. Below them, a safety catch goes off, as one of the
rookiest member of the CEO's begins to tremble in panic. And Maniaq, staring right at
this rookie's face, took a knife and pointed at him, making all kinds of obscene gestures.
The rookies nerves could take no more. He fired a shot towards Maniaq, who, gleefully,
took out his bazooka and screamed "LET THE CARNAGE BEGIN!"

Das Captain took advantage of Mr. Mimic's infinitesimal distraction and punched him
hard on the face. And then all hell broke loose.

And Hatman, with Pureheart's sword, approaches the warring factions battleground.

Chapter 38: In the Shadow of Olympus

(by redRicky)

"There were voices and thundering and an earthquake.

And there followed hail and fire mingled with blood.
There fell a great star from heaven burning as it were a lamp made of brass....and I beheld
the angel with the hat saying with a loud voice...
woe, Woe, WOE to the inhabiters of K street."

30 minutes before the battle was joined...

A street...Where the forces of good gathered.

"I have no problem with this Hatman joining us" stated Illuminatrix.

"Can we go?" inquired Hatman.

"Hold on just one second, son." interrupted Excelsior, 'May be it's time to remind us what
this here's all about. We got here folks not only from different countries, but different
worlds! But right now, we are going to march into battle not only for our lives, but for our
freedom and that of this earth. You see, people still think of us as Marvels. They still
watch in awe, even when their lives are threatened and their spirits broken. They,
know....they expect us to come though, to make everything all right.

Tonight, America holds her breath and hopes that whatever the outcome, her sons and
daughters will be safe.

And her will, will be done.

Because we are going to lay our lives on the line for her.

Sometimes I forget how mortal, we really are. I don't believe I'll ever forget that again.
Heaven Girl and Pureheart made sure of that, God rest their souls.

Still, I live on. Hurt, but not disillusioned. Sad, YES. But, I BELIEVE that the dreams
shared by you and me and all those others without special powers, can come TRUE!!!

ONWARD TRUE BELIEVERS!!!!!!!!"

"For Pureheart!!!!!" shouted Hatman

"For Heavengirl!!!!" shouted Illuminatrix

"For FREEDOM!!!!" shouted Excelsior

K Street...
Mimic Tower...
Armageddon...

An unfriendly soulless individual watched an apocalypse unraveled before his very eyes.
"So many people and not a single decent soul"

Then he noticed that some members of the KSHT where still standing. "Frag! If you want
something done right, you got to hire the best! Then again, Mr.Mimic didn't actually
HIRE me!"

As he paced around the office, he pondered this dilemma. He knew first hand about the
price of death.

"Still, he provided me with information and a way to move on to greener pastures! I

guess I owe him a favor."

His mind set, he grabbed Mimics desk and flung it through the office's window. Striped
of his trench coat, he advanced towards the broken glass . . .

and jumped!

From his back, two silver wings snapped into place while golden rockets propelled him
towards kingdom come!

In his belt, a communication link went on-line..."Maniaq!!! Can you read me?!?!? This is
redWrath, Imp is heading your way at four o'clock!!! Can you read????. . . "

On K Street, the battle raged. Buried Alive tried to strip Maximum Deathblood out of
some of his weapons, only to find out that he could barely carry them. Out of sheer anger,
Max's hair line receded to ridiculous proportions. Buried, still dragging a gun the size of a
BMW, was caught off guard by a savage Velociraptor that seemed to appear out of
nowhere.

Under the stars, two titans struggled for the fate of the world. One a CEO, the other a
Capitan, both evenly matched . . .

for now.

Inside the Brass Lamp, the Terrible Utgaard, a juggernaut from Hades, took care of
Mimic's remaining CEOs. The god of War, unaware of the comfort Jester's demonic
laughter brought him, found this endeavor both fun and relaxing.

Outside, the forces of good were starting to be felt. Illuminatrix took on Deathwish. Her
light powers would have been no match for him if it had not been for Hatman!
The Capped Crusader managed to block Deathwish's field of vision with his famous
Cowboy Hat. From out of nowhere came a stampede of Cows!!!! First came Juanita, then
Weezie followed by Yoko, Natalia & Cher. Deathwish struggled back to his feet only to
be trampled by MERLCOW?!?!??!? Who lagged behind.

"STOP IT!!!!" screamed one side of the head. The other side simply said
"MoOOOoooo!!!", and kept on stomping.

Elsewhere, Imp raced towards Maniaq.

Inches away from his prey, he stoped. Dazed, as if he had slamed into a wall and floating
in mid air, he asked: "Whatisthis??? A stasis field???"

"No" answered Maniaq. "It's a Martian Field!!!!" From behind the Imp, a pale Martian
became visible.

"I still say we should pigeon-hole him!!!" mouthed Maniq.

*Nah!!! The bullets would pass through him. He is vibrating as we speak!* The Martian
proceeded to whipe the Imp's mind clean. Leaving Imp a slobering vegetable, with the IQ
of a four year old.

A shelter underneath the Brass Lamp...

Ozobserver paced frantically. He did not like ruckus that came from upstairs. He needed
to know what was going on. He couldn't tell if the Capitan had been defeated yet. Those
damn CEOs took out most of his cameras the moment they blew the roof off his place.

"What a day!!!" His patience thinning, he looked at a map of the world. A chuckle
escaped him when he noticed the crater that used to be France. "Those were the good old
days!", the days were people had to set their watches according to his. He proclaimed so
himself, and France was a prime example of what happened to those who dared defy his
wishes.

After all, he was the ruler of this damned world!!!!!

A voice disturbed the nostalgically absorbed imp as Shirad stepped forward. "Maybe you
should nuke K Street!!! A little pest control never hurt anyone!!!"

Chapter 39: Thunder and Lightning

(by hellgirl)

Special Agent James Douglas Morrison had been tailing Cox for hours now.
What he had discovered disturbed him more than anything he'd ever seen, but it hadn't
surprised him in the least.

Under the tremendous pressure of their jobs, agents often immersed themselves so
completely in their work that they lost sight of the big picture, lost any sense of why they
were fighting this battle in the first place - lost everything that made them human. A
certain degree of sociopathy was a desirable, even essential, quality in the field, but too
often mild sociopathy became full-blown psychosis. Cox had clearly gone over that edge.

Morrison had never liked the man anyway. At the time of their first meeting he
remembered thinking, now there's a necrophiliac if I've ever seen one. Cox was just plain
creepy. Morrison was going to enjoy cancelling his account. He began to tap into his
secret meta power, deep within the reptilian base of his brain...

The Jester glanced at the battle between Mimic and Das Capitan. He could tell the Mimic
was slightly overmatched, but worried that he was only projecting what he wanted to see.
If anything happened to Das Capitan...

Well, then he'd find some other game.

He heard a noise behind him and turned to find the Surprise(!) sneaking up on him. Or
actually, attempting to sneak up on him. The zombie's jaw had fallen off, giving him
away. Jester casually ripped the walking corpse's arms off.

"Dear me, you're hostile," said Rehab Man. "But I understand. You feel victimized by an
oppressive, uncaring society, and this is the only way you know how to respond..."

"Oh, I'll respond all right," said the Jester, dropping the Surprise(!). "I'll tell you all about
my feelings." He advanced on the Stern Regular.

Maximum Deathblood scanned the crowd, attempting to acquire a target. His tiny eyes
narrowed and his brow furrowed even more, which had seemed impossible. Some
distance away a pale, gaunt man in a straitjacket was observing the battle. Deathblood
selected an anti-tank missile and fired at the figure.

It passed directly through the ghostly form of Harry Houdini and continued down the
street. A schoolbus full of Pygmy Marmosets and Junior Woodchucks was driving away,
hoping to escape the carnage. The Marmosets and the Woodchucks were rival scout
troops on Earth E (and not the peculiar mammals they were in other dimensions), but
none of the passengers were arguing about which troop's merit badges were cooler or
whether red scarves were better than blue sashes; instead, they were all sitting rigidly in
their seats, terrified and trying their best not to pee in their olive and khaki uniforms.

The missile struck the bus dead center. The explosion blew out all the remaining windows
on the block and rained charred bits of Marmoset, Woodchuck, and Den Mother all over
the street.

This year's Woodchuck-Marmoset Jamboree was the worst ever.

"Ooh, what a big gun you have!"

Maximum Deathblood pivoted to find Charming Girl admiring him with her big blue
eyes. He began a risk assessment of his new target.

"No," said Fountainhead slowly. "Listen....You destroy...everything...that is...beautiful.

Everything...worth...living for. I care...too much...about...the small smiles...of children.
The color...of the sky...just before...the end of night. The way...birds...look at you...when
they...eat. You must...stop. You...must...stop."

Utgaard-Henry smashed Mjolnir straight through Fountainhead's face. Stone chips flew
in all directions as the living statue's now headless body collapsed to the floor. The giant
laughed.

Dominatrix and the Free-Breeder were circling each other, looking for an opening. A
short distance away, Mr. Catastrophe had managed to trip up Johnny B. Good and was
now prancing around him and kicking him in the ribs.

The Secret Velociraptor prowled through the wreckage, looking for his next target. He
needed something to get the foul taste of zombie flesh out of his mouth. (What a mistake
that was!)

A purplish catlike creature slinked past. One of those Good, Inc. people. It looked like it
might do the trick. It might even taste like grape!

Vermillion turned at the sound of claws on concrete, saw nothing...

J'onn frowned suddenly, his beetlebrow growing even larger.

"What is it?" asked Maniaq. He was just about to use his hook to gut the quivering Imp.

"I've been blocked," said the Pale Martian. "I haven't been blocked since..."

"Listen you," said Maniaq. "I don't care about your bowel problems, and I don't want to
hear about them. If you can't take a-"

"Shut up," said J'onn. "Speak to me like that again and I'll melt your brain."

"I'm not afraid of you," laughed Maniaq. "You're not the only one with telepathic powers,
you know!"

"I single-handedly murdered every last one of my race," J'onn told him. "I can certainly
deal with one foul-smelling, musclebound oaf."

Maniaq laughed again. "Then who's blocking you? 'Cause it ain't me!"

Before J'onn could reply they were set upon by the zombie Hawaiian Crusher and
Ladybug. Maniaq was about to put his hook through the Crusher when Ladybug blocked
him, the hook skidding off her red and black armor. She reached out with one clawed arm
and grabbed Maniaq by the throat, began to squeeze the life out of him.

The redWrath dropped from the sky, took the zombie Emerald Death's head clean off,
soared back to the heights. He looked at the head, realized it had come from a reanimated
corpse, dropped it immediately.

"Ewww, gross!" It occurred to him that he had recently had a near-death experience
himself. He could have come back as a zombie, too. The thought greatly disturbed him.
He scanned the battlefield for Excelsior, but the True Believer was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe he's dealing with a landslide in India," he thought. "Or a famine in Rwanda.
What a sucker."

Utgaard-Henry bashed in the side of Leonardo Stargiver's head. He laughed, tossed

Mjolnir to his left hand, and bashed in the other side. Or what there was of it, anyway.
Houdini watched him carefully, muttered to himself, made a complicated gesture with the
fingers of his left hand.

The Permanent Guy was locked in combat with the levitating cherub who preferred to be
called the Lovechild but was invariably referred to by friend and foe alike as "Baby
Love". The Submissive staggered past, moaning about having to die all over again. The
zombie's hideously reanimated body was so full of gaping holes it was a wonder he could
stand upright.

Houdini made another adjustment, twitched his right pinky, muttered some more, then
opened the link to Gunginngap, the primordial abyss between Musspellheim and
Niflheim. Mjolnir disappeared from Utgaard-Henry's hand just as he was about to crush
another of the KSHT zombies.

The giant roared, grabbed Professor Yard's head, tore it clean off.

Brainteaser, the self-styled leader of Good, Inc., crouched in a nearby alleyway, fingers
pressed to his forehead as he struggled to contain J'onn's telepathic powers. His Armani
suit was drenched in sweat. A bead of moisture trickled down his forehead, then down
along his nose. It tickled, but he forced himself to ignore it.

The Martian was trading blows with the Hawaiian Crusher. The zombie was having
trouble keeping his body in one piece.

Deathwish roared and staggered to his feet, lethal white energy firing wildly in all
directions. A stray blast caught the Illuminatrix in the face, evaporating part of her head.
She screamed horribly, fell to her knees.

"Serves you right, you [canine female]."

Deathwish focused on Hatman and the MerlCow, who was trying to get his feet to go in
the same direction. The supervillain snarled, "Die, [participants in intercourse]!"

White heat streamed from him, was blocked by rainbow swirls of light. They emitted
musical tones as the white deathrays probed, trying to get past. Deathwish turned. The
source of the light floated in the air a short distance away.

"Kermit!"

The frog smashed Deathwish to the ground with a multicolored blast of energy.
Deathwish turned all his energy on the frog, pushing himself to the limit. Kermit's
defensive shield transformed the barrage into a massive power chord played on the
world's largest pipe organ. Deathwish swore like a sailor with Turette Syndrome. The
frog could match him frequency for frequency.

Hatman gripped Pureheart's sword in both hands, charged towards the man who had
killed Joe Grendel.

Excelsior saw Metachron coming, summoned up the Silver Surfer's invulnerability.

Metachron hit him with a torrent of cosmic energy. It swirled around him but left him
completely unscathed. He switched to the Helmet of Nabu and...and what?

Where was he?

Metachron had transported them to the clear blue skies over Sarajevo, one of the few
peaceful places left on Earth E. It was a fresh, promising morning, the air crisp and clean.
Two miles below, the residents were just beginning what promised to be a wonderful day.
Metachron laughed and dropped towards the unsuspecting citizens, death energies
forming in his two hands. Excelsior saw his plan immediately: every minute the True
Believer spent saving lives here, his friends would be dying back in Washington. The
tidal wave sweeping towards Tokyo had kept him from saving Grendel. How many more
would die because of Metachron's diversion?

Excelsior shot after Metachron, thunder and lightning in his wake.

Chapter 40: The Price of Victory

(by Maniaq)

"Chaos..."

"No."

"And ORDER!" Metachron hurled more of his destructive energy towards the fleeing
Bosnians.
"Stop it." Excelsior grew angrier and angrier with each blast he diverted.

"CHAOS...and ORDER!" Metachron was firing faster now, trying to match Excelsior's
borrowed super-speed and invulnerability.

"NO! STOP! ENOUGH!" The True Believer hurled himself towards the crazed madman.
He hoped Cannonball's blast-shield would be enough to protect him. It was. Barely. The
two grappled in midair after the collision, wild energies swirling about them.

"You're...insane. What...could make someone like this?"

"Hmmm? Oh, I don't know. Perhaps 'twas me mummy an' da'. Perhaps I didn't get the
puppy I'd asked for. Perhaps I watched my wife die in front of me. Perhaps 'twas all these
things. Perhaps none. Ya know what reason I like best tho'? Just 'cause!"

"You...maniac!" Excelsior was trying to use Green Lantern ring energy on Metachron
now. It wasn't working.

"What? Maniaq? No, I think you've mistaken me. I'm...effective!" Metachron made a
gesture with his fingers, a bit like the 'You ougtta be in pictures' hand sign. Pink magic-
energy chains manifested. One latched itself around Excelsior's right arm, the other
around his left. They began...pulling.

The pain was intense. Excelsior had never quite felt anything like it. He'd never had to.
He stopped thinking about Metachron, about stopping the Pantheon, about everything. He
COULDN'T concentrate. The pain of having his arms ripped off was too much for him.
He dropped. Metachron laughed.

"Like...taking...candy...from a baby. Well, not quite. Sorta. Who cares?" He was too
busy admiring himself and trying to think of a clever simile to notice what was happening
below.

Excelsior had managed to fight through the pain. It was incredible...but he was The True
Believer...he couldn't fail. He took the power to regenerate his limbs from David Kim, the
Xombi. Luckily, he'd had a big breakfast. His arms returned to him. Milliseconds before
he hit the ground, he switched to the Changeling's power. He turned himself into an
eagle. He figured Metachron wouldn't notice. He was right. He flew up towards
Metachron. He soared, enjoying every last moment of freedom he had. He didn't want to
think about what he had to do.

He didn't want to think about killing Metachron, but he had to. The man had to be
stopped, even if it went against anything he'd ever stood for. Metachron had to be put
down before he killed another innocent person. Excelsior had hoped he could reason with
him, and now he saw that he was wrong. He acted, thought flowing into deed naturally.
Now was not the time for hesitation. If he stopped for a moment, all would be lost.
He shifted powers. He froze Metachron in a block of ice, readying himself for what
would come next.

"NNNGGGGG! AHHHH! You thought that would HOLD ME?! YOU THOUGHT
YOU COULD HOLD ME?!" Metachron was panting. It had strained him to escape from
the ice, just as Excelsior had hoped it would. Metachron was weakened, and Excelsior
struck, as painful as it was for him.

Seconds later, Metachron was dead. It didn't matter how. It didn't matter why. It only
mattered that Excelsior had done it. It was something that would follow him forever.
Tears rolled down his face as he carried the empty body down to the Earth. He buried him
in Sarajevo, hoping that the good citizenry would forgive him and honor the gravesite.

Then, he remembered. Washington. He was needed. His life would be different now and
forever, but he was still the True Believer, and he was needed.

He flew off, faster than the speed of Hermes.

Chapter 41: Mantle of the Hat

(by Hatman)

Hatman stared slack-jawed at the carnage around him. He watched in amazement as a

small handful of rebels fought a valiantly hopeless battle for truth, justice, and freedom,
against a legion of in-fighting tyrants who seemed to have been spawned by Malvolio,
himself. And more seemed to be coming out of the woodwork by the second!

Even though the battle had only just been joined moments ago, Hatman could read the
writing on the wall. Excelsior's group had been doomed from the start. The scales of
power were tipped to far heavily towards the evil Pantheon. Yet suicidal as it was, they
were here--the opposite numbers of practically every villain his Pantheon had fought in
the last year...fighting to protect this small strip of steel, stone and concrete from the
madmen who would conquer it.

But the worst was not the insurmountable odds that the forces of good faced. Nor was it
the images he couldn't banish from his mind, of Joe 'Pureheart' Grendel, being savagely
beaten to a bloody pulp with the severed head of his wife. It wasn't even the thought that,
by standing here on this battlefield, Hatman had effectively signed his own death
warrant...that he would die here, in this godforsaken dimension, away from his
teammates and friend.

No, by far the worst thing was the blood of innocents being spilled by this pointless
carnage. For scattered amoungst the rubble and debris of the battle were the battered,
torn, crushed and violated corpses of pygmy marmosets, cyberneticaly-enhanced weiners,
and duckbilled platypii. And there, over by the wreckage of the K Street Pawn Shop, at
least one Egyptian: the blackened, charred skeleton of a man who on this Earth was a
cutthroat smuggler...but who, on Hatman's, was a crusty, belligerent little shopkeeper.

Hatman's stomach turned at the sight. It was almost too much to bear. Were his
grandfather here, he would most surely have been outraged. So much death...so much
pointless destruction...and the heir to the Mantle of the Hat had done nothing to stop it.

Well all that was about to change. Hatman wasn't going to allow this to go on a minute
longer. This was going to end, and it was going to end now...even if he had to break his
most sacred vow to end it.

Superman had done it, once, in the name of justice...and so would he. Grendel had given
him the means, and the method: kill the head, and the body will follow.

If only he could figure out who the 'head' was. Because he wouldn't get a second chance
at this.

"Good God!" came a voice to his right. "It's...it's worse than he described it!"

Hatman spun around, clutching Grendel's sword in his hand, ready to strike. He lowered
his guard slightly as he realized the words had been spoken by a horrified time-traveller,
who stared in absolute shock at the scene that surrounded them. "Timewalker!" Hat cried.

The alternate-version of Mr. E turned to the Capped Crusader, his face pale. "Hatman" he
gasped, shuddering. "It's...horrible! All these people.."

Hatman grabbed the front of Timewalker's costume and shook him. "Listen to me! You've
got to tell me how this ends! You've got to tell me how I can stop all this!"

Timewalker stared at him, blankly. "What? Stop this? You can't!"

"I HAVE TO, DAMNIT!!" Hatman growled, throwing Timewalker to the ground.
Gritting his teeth, Hatman brandished the Pureheart sword in his right hand, and brought
the sharpened tip of it to within inches of the time traveller's adam's apple. "Now you
listen to me, you chronally-displaced [illegitimate son]! I know your M.O....you live time
backwards. That means you've seen how all this is going to end, and who's going to be
the one to end it." Hatman pressed the tip of the sword against Timewalker's throat. "I
want you to tell me how I can prevent it. Who do I have to..." Hatman winced at the
thought, but shook his head and pressed forward. "Who do I have to kill?" he asked
hoarsely.

Timewalker's eyes went wide with fear. "Hatman...I...I...I can't! My long-term memory
is--"

"NO!!" Hatman snarled. "No tricks. No riddles. No oblique messages from my future
self. Give it to me plain and simple, 'Walker...or I use you as my warm-up act!"

"Y-y-you wouldn't!" Timewalker stammered. "You're bluffing! I might not remember

much, Hatman, but I do know that you are of the purest, most noble bree--ACK!"

"I am," Hatman growled, "but desperate times call for desperate measures. And I've never
seen a place more desperate than this godforsaken place!"

Utgaard Henry reached out and grabbed hold of Houdini before the Magician could react.
With the snarl of a warrior, Utgaard heaved the magician up over his head, and threw him
into the large mirror behind the bar, effectively cracking the mages's skull and ending his
life in a flash of pain. Dusting off his hands, satisfied with his work, he turned to the
window to see what all the ruckus was about outside. What he saw there made his
Asgaardian blood sing through his veins.

"y the horns of Sutur!" he gasped in bliss. "he legends be true! Yon day of glory has
arrived. THE BATTLE OF RAGNAROK HAST BEEN JOINED!!"

And with a Mighty bellow, the God of War raced out the door off the Brass Lamp, out
into the fracas, swinging madly...

Timewalker choked as Hatman's sword pressed into his throat. "not...not 'godforsaken',"
he gasped. "Not yet...Gods still walk here...among the demons..."

Hatman stared at him, uncomprehendingly. "What the [place of the damned] are you
talking about?"

Timewalker winced, and desperately tried to swallow. "Our Pantheon...brought together

by U.S. Government....to act as watchmen against possible...invasion of Washington
by...metas." He gulped, struggling for air. "But...in your universe...who...watches...the
Watchmen?"

Hatman narrowed his eyes at this riddle, and prepared himself to press down harder on
the hilt of the sword, to make good on his threat if Timewalker didn't deliver...when
suddenly it came clear to him.

Don't call Hank, he'll call you.

"Gods still walk here," Hatman murmured, "amoungst the damned..."

"GO LIMP, GOOD SIR!!"

And suddenly, Hatman found himself the target of a flying bodytackle, launched by a
one-eyed Asgaardian God of War. A split second later, a yellow bolt of energy scorched
the air where Hatman's head had been. Timewalker, free and breathing again, quickly
dematerialized and disappeared back into the timestream.

"Lord Hat! Ist thou okay?"

"Not for long, you poster-child for steriod-use" came a snarl. "Get up. You and your
buddy are about to get a one way ticket to oblivion."

Hatman craned his neck to look up from where Utgaard-Henry had him pinned.
Somehow, Deathwish had broken through Kermit's rainbow shield and defeated him--a
charred frog's leg dangled from the corner of the villain's mouth. But the effort had nearly
exhausted him--Hat could see that Borelli's yellow force-shield flickered around him
insubstantially...and that blood was gushing from a gash above his right eye.

Hat gripped the sword of Pureheart tightly in his hand. The evil Borelli was vulnerable! If
only he could get this big lummox of a war god off of him!

"Fear not, Lord Dark Hat," Henry said. "I will protect thou from harm."

Deathwish sneered at them. "Dark Hat. Pheh. 'Lynchpin of the Pantheon.' How satisfying
it will be to watch you AARRRRGGGH!!"

Suddenly the world was rocked by explosion after explosion. Deathwish fell forward in
agony, his body buffeted about like a rag doll. Perched on a roof above him, Excelsior,
The True Believer, set his mouth into a grim line as he pumped Nova Blast after Nova
Blast at Joe Grendel's murderer.

"HE IS DOWN!" Utgaard Henry cried, jumping up off Hatman. "QUICKLY, LORD
HAT! NOW WE CAN DESTROY HIM!"

"No!" Hatman cried, grabbing onto Utgaard's belt, and yanking him back with all his
strength. Amazingly, Henry stopped in his tracks, and turned to look at Hatman in
confusion. "No?" he asked. "But Lord Hat...you told me that this day would come...that
one day the drums of war would sound, and that when that day came, I would march
gloriously into battle and destroy your enemies!"

"Change of plans!" Hatman cried. He turned his eyes to the skyline, turning round and
round frantically until finally, he found what he was looking for. Turning back to the God
of War with a mad gleam in his eyes, he said, "Can you fart?"

Utgaard cocked an eyebrow. "Que?"

"CAN YOU FART?!? The Hank where I come from...he uses his Mighty Stinky Farts to
propel himself from place to place--to fly. Can you do that?"

Utgaard Henry frowned at him in utter confusion. None of what he was saying was
making sense. But then, very little that didn't involve rampant violence made sense to the
God of War. "I...do not know, Lord Hat. Verily, mine bodily gasses are feared throughout
the Nine Worlds. But--"

"Good enough!" Brandishing Grendel's sword, Hatman leapt up onto Utgaard-Henry's

back, and pointed towards the MimiCorp tower. "There! Get me there! And hurry!"

Shaking his head, reluctant to leave the battle behind him, Utgaard-Henry hesitated for a
moment. This was Ragnarok, Twilight of the Gods! And as the God of War, his rightful
place was here. But Dark Hat had twice saved his life...and Henry was bound by a God's
honor to do as he wished. Wrapping his arms under Hatman's legs, piggy-back style,
Henry grit his teeth and diverted all his strength to his lower intestines...

Excelsior felt a smile breaking over his face as he watched Deathwish writhing on the
ground under the force of his Nova Blasts. The cost had been high, but one of their most
powerful opponents was on his knees, unable to do any further harm to the denizens of K
Street. Now if only there was some way to rally his forces...get them to wage a
concentrated attack on Mimic and Das Capitan...then maybe--maybe--the forces of good
had a slim hope of winning the day.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a small figure rocketing up from the
rubble of K Street, sailing up towards the MimiCorp tower. Knowing that he dare not tear
his attention away from Deathwish, not even for a second, The True Believer whispered a
silent prayer that whatever it was, it would not be the key to their undoing...

Utgaard-Henry landed atop the slanted glass roof of the MimiCorp tower, amazed at how
easily he'd been able to ascend to such heights. Truly, Dark Hat was a genius, able to
gauge powers that Henry didn't even know he had. Now if only Hat would tell him why
he'd wanted to be brought up here.

Saying nothing, Hatman slid off Henry's back and made his way towards the peak of the
tower. The wind roared around him, whipping his cape around and nearly knocking the
Boomerang Fedora clear off of his head. Several stories below him, he could see the
battle for K Street raging. Above him, dark clouds roiled and tumbled amoungst each
other, mirroring the turmoil below.

Staring up at those clouds, Hatman raised the sword of Joe Grendel, the sword of
Pureheart, and spoke.
"Jonah!" he cried. "Hear me, Monitor! I know you're there! I know you're watching!"

The wind whistled around his ears, but otherwise, he was greeted with silence.

"Jonah!" Hatman shouted. "I am Hatman, a hero from another dimension--a dimension in
which knowledge of the Jonah Corps is widely spread! I have met one of your
compatriots...and know him to be the kindest, most noble being in all of existance!"

Utgaard Henry watched silently as Dark Hat screamed at the sky, and waved around the
sword. What was he doing? Who was he talking to? He was beginning to suspect that
perhaps he had been wrong about Dark Hat--after all, the line between genius and lunacy
is the finest of them all.

"Jonah!" Hatman called. "I also know of the Jonah Corps pact of non-interference. I
know that you hold sacred that pact. But Monitor, the Jonah of my world has seen fit to
break that code...to intervene in the affairs of normal men, for the greater good...to protect
the average being from forces in times of tragedy, from forces beyond their ability to
defend themselves." Hatman gestured towards the battle with Pureheart's sword. "LOOK,
MONITOR!! SURELY YOU CAN SEE THAT THIS IS ONE OF THOSE TIMES!!"

Utgaard watched Hatman in confusion, and was considering abadoning him here to re-
join the battle, when suddenly Hatman thrust his sword into the air, and screamed.

"I IMPLORE YOU, JONAH OF THIS EARTH!! HELP ME TO END THE SUFFERING
OF INNOCENTS, AND CEASE THIS DESTRUCTIVE CONFLICT!! HELP ME TO
GUIDE THE FORCES OF JUSTICE TOWARDS VICTORY!! JONAH, HELP
JUSTICE PREVAIL!!"

All words exhausted, Hatman finally raised his face to the sky, and uttered a mighty
scream worthy of Utgaard-Henry himself.

And when he cried, Seven Thunders uttered their voices...

High above the Earth, a lone satellite gleams in the starlight. Silent and impassive, it
spins gently through the void, apparently uncaring of what happens on the marbled little
planet below.

Apparently.

Until, that is, several strange ports begin to cycle open in the satellite's hull, revealing the
glowing blue energy that is housed inside. There is a moment in which all is still, as if the
hand of God hovered slightly over the controls in a moment of indecision...
And then, the voice of Angels sings out through the airless void of space...and the blue
energy that the satellite contains rushes forward, on a collision course with Earth.

The din of battle and the screams of the dying drown out all other sound on K Street,
making it impossible to tell one from the other. In the chaos and bloodlust of war, the
only concern is the fight for survival, and the obliteration of one's enemies. Good, evil.
Just and injust. All just lines in the sand, concepts to be sorted out later by history and the
victors. In the heat of battle, all that matters, is death.

Until, that is, the sky explodes above you.

Unnatural blue flashes erupt across the sky above K Street. and all movement on the
battlefield ceases. Even the strangled cries of agony are choked off, as all eyes turn to the
sky.

And suddenly--suddenly--that silence is broken by one, booming voice. The voice of a

man, merged with the powers of a God.

"I AM THE BRIM THAT PROTECTS THESE INNOCENTS FROM

THE HELLFIRE THAT RAINS DOWN FROM ABOVE!"

Down on the battlefield, villains, heroes and innocents alike tear their eyes away from the
sky, towards the source of this booming voice.

"I AM THE DAM AGAINST WHICH THIS TIDE OF EVIL SHALL

BREAK!"

Some exclaim in amazement and point. Some scream with terror and skitter away. But
most, most just stare transfixed at the haloed silhouetted that stands atop the tower of
MimiCorp.

"HEAR ME, VILLAINS OF K STREET. COWER IN MORTAL FEAR.

FOR NOW, YOU FACE THE WRATH OF HATMAN...AND THE PURE
OF HEART SHALL SURELY PREVAIL!!"

And brandishing the glittering, pulsing sword of Grendel Pureheart, the Capped Crusader,
blessed with the powers of the Monitor, stepped off the peak of the MimiCorp tower...and
descended to the battlefield below...

Chapter 42: Liberation Wyrmwood style

(by Raymond Cox)

Raymond Cox could not believe what he was seeing. He stood his ground, mouth agape.
He was sure as [Place of eternal damnation] that was not covered within the Pantheon
Protocols. Still, he decide to check. He stopped momentarily and skimmed thru the
Protocols's pages until he found what he was looking for.

"Troubleshooting.
In this section you will find everything you need to deal with the superhuman threat that
the Pantheon is.
Read this appendix if:
a) The Pantheon battles enemies that can't be beat unless they ravage the whole planet in
the process.
b) The Pantheon has an active member that is using god-like powers that threaten not
only the United States, but life as we know it."

"Bingo".

"If b) adjust the nuclear bombs to full capacity and use Three to destroy them."

Raymond Cox opened three of the four anti-gravity suitcases he was moving towards the
battlefield. Inside each one there was a nuclear bomb. Each one was a shade over 300
kilotons. He took the first bomb's manual and leafed until he reached the "activation"
chapter.

"To activate the bombs at full capacity, place the uranium container within this unit's
core, as shown in diagram (1), then connect the blue cable with the red outlet..." Cox
followed the instructions to the letter. He neglected to read the final lines on the
instructions. "This device complies with Part 15 of the FCC Rules. This device must
accept any interference received, including interference that may cause undesired
operation."

The bomb's control panel erupted to life. Part one of the Protocols was complete.

Part two had been a bit of a bugger to SHC scientists in the last year. You see, they
created the 3 bombs to destroy the metas if and when they tried to take over the world.
However, they didn't want to make Washington a smoldering, crater, sending radioactive
clouds all over North America for centuries. So they had to come up with a containment
field that could, at least, keep all of the radiation inside the target area. They had failure
after failure until they created a force field that could contain 90% of the radiation. And
they created a Damage Control unit that could use radiation dampers outside the field, in
order to minimize the ecological impact. The whole project had been kept on a Need to
Know bases and no one save the president and chief Henderson knew it. And the instant
the Protocols were activated, the president would be shipped out Washington, so a
working government could be kept.
"Well, the president's dead, so that takes care of that." He opened the fourth suitcase. It
was the master control of the containment field. Nothing could get in or out. He punched
the 16 digit code and the field was erected, covering a 7 mile radius. He approached the
battleground fast.

"And where do you think you're going?" shouted a familiar voice.

Cox turned around and saw another spook. "I don't have time for games, Morrison. I have
a job to do."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Eat lead!"

Cox had his hands full with the suitcases, so he could not react in time. Fortunately, his
adamantium-laced bulletproof vest deflected the bullet on time.

"You've just made your last mistake!" snarled Cox and leaped to Morrison. Using his
promethium knuckles, he knocked Morrison out and spat on his unconscious body.
"You're just darn lucky I have a priority one mission. Otherwise, I'd skin you like a
lizard." He turned around and left.

On the Battlefield.

He saw that Hatman was talking to all of the assembled metas, but he was not paying
attention. He dropped the suitcases beneath some rubble and activated the countdown
clock. "One minute is plenty of time to get out of here! And then, Shazam! Shazam!
Shazam!"

He then used his Omega Men teleportation device and disappeared from K Street.

Exactly one minute later, to Hatman's dismay, the bombs exploded.

Chapter 43: Redemption of the Merlcow

(by Merlin)

70 Seconds ago

The Merlcow staggered from the shock of having someone try to steal its mind(s), both
Right and Left's eyes clearing just in time to see someone vanish into a teleportation
effect a few meters away.

60 Seconds

The creature shook both its heads to clear them and then approached the device the
teleporting man had left behind.

"What is it?" said a confused Left.

"MoOOoooOoo mOOooOooOoOoO" replied Right.

"A WHAT!?!"

50 Seconds

Before they were merged, Right had been an inventor, although his brilliance was now
much diminished, it didn't take a genius to recognise a cluster of Nuclear Bombs when
they saw one.

"We've... We've got to get out of here!"

"MooOo mOooOoo mOooOooOoOOo" replied Right, long forgotten knowledge

returning as he examined the device.

"Forcefield? Oh crap, we're all doomed!"

40 Seconds

"MooOo MooOooo mOOooOooOoO."

"Teleportation? OF COURSE! but... but.... I can't remember the spell.... its been so
long..."

30 Seconds

"Moooo MOOOO!"

"I'm trying, I'M TRYING!" Left ran the words through his head "Er... Milmak ...Kooodle
GonF!"

Nothing happened.

"Jonkin.... Blonk... Kooodle ...Milmak"

Still nothing.

20 Seconds

"Its no *sniffle* use, we can't do it!" Left began to break down in tears, "Everyone is
*sniff* going to die and its all because of us! *bwaaaaaa!*"
"MoOoo MooOooOooOo" said Right, trying desperately to get Left to pull his act
together.

"*sniff* Wh- *snuffle* What did you say?"

"MoOoo MooOooOooOo!"

"Heroes?"

10 Seconds

"MooOooOoo mOoooOoo mooOOo Mooo!"

"You're... You're Right, we wanted to prove we could still be Heroes, and Heroes Don't
FAIL!"

The Merlcow jumped to its feet and grabbed the linked bombs, lifting them high above its
heads

"Milmak ...Kooodle ...GonF ...Jonkin ...Blonk ..." Intoned Left, "..... GABOGYA!"

A telportation vortex sprang open and the Merlcow flung the device into the hole in space
time which sealed shut behind it.

0 Seconds

While in a far off pocket dimension, the bombs exploded, the Merlcow dropped to its
knees. It had done it. No matter what anyone else said, no matter what horrible names
humanity branded it with, no matter how evil or twisted the rest of the world had become,
it knew in its heart(s) that it was still a hero.

Chapter 44: Dark Zenith

(by hellgirl)

Deathwish struggled to his feet, blood trickling from his mouth, nose, ears, and eyes.
He'd never felt so much pain in his life. He clamped down on it, forcing himself to move.
He would not be beaten. He would not be beaten. He would not be beaten.

He peered upwards, his sight blurry. Somewhere up there was that [illegitimate] True
Believer. He would find him. And he would kill him.
The redWrath continued circling, pumping bullets at any civilians he could find. He was
doomed if he couldn't provide a pure soul to his infernal benefactor. He shuddered at the
thought.

There he was. Excelsior was teleporting the injured out of the city as fast as he could. The
redWrath dropped towards him, rocket launchers sprouting from his shoulders.
Somebody was going to die.

The Jester, unrecognizable under the blood that covered him from head to toe, stumbled
into the alleyway. He was still laughing as he picked bits of bone and flesh off of himself.
A stray eyeball had landed on his shoulder. He wondered whose it was.

Crouched against the wall in the alleyway was a balding man in a suit. He had his hands
to his head as if suffering from a terrific migraine.

I'll give him a headache, thought the Jester. He grabbed the man by his lapel, yanked him
up into the air, and bit into his throat, ripping it out completely.

J'onn felt Brainteaser's hold vanish. He grabbed Ladybug off of Maniaq, tore open her
armored suit, and flung her into the sky. Maniaq looked up and chuckled.

"Ladybug, Ladybug, fly away home, your city's on fire, and you're all alone."

He coughed and got up, rubbing his throat.

"I wanna kill someone," he rasped.

Henry watched Hat plunge from the top of the MimicCorp building, sword in hand. He
didn't have the foggiest what was going on. The small gears in his brain turned over and
over, trying to make the pieces fit together.

The only thought he could manage was: "Fighting is fun." He jumped from the building.
Excelsior caught Ladybug before she could hit the impenetrable barrier that still covered
the city. She went limp in his arms.

"Oh, god, thank you, you're here, oh thank god," she sobbed. "They're all dead, all of
them, Osiris, Bankshot, oh god I'm so sorry..."

"Hush," he said. "It will all be over soon."

He teleported her to the Fortress of Solitude, turned back to the city burning below him,
began scanning for Das Capitan and Mr. Mimic - the center of the whirling vortex of
destruction below him.

Two figures converged on him, one rising from the ruins below, the other diving from the
thin air in the apex of the barrier.

The Secret Velociraptor licked his chops. A nice appetizer, but that zombie taste was still
there. He began hunting for some small, delectable morsel. There had to be one
somewhere. A tender child, perhaps...

Excelsior saw the approaching figures. His patience was exhausted.

The redWrath dropped from above, rockets streaking from his launchers, reaching out
their lethal fingers towards the True Believer.

Diamond-shaped dimensional gates transferred the rockets into the sun, where they
vaporized immediately. An Empyrean web wrapped around the redWrath, pinning his
arms and wings and rendering him unconscious. A demon in the city of Dis on the lower
circles of Hell lost patience and summoned the redWrath home.

Deathwish blasted upwards, white energy sparking from his eyes.

Excelsior Warpsmithed him halfway to the Andromeda Galaxy. His power would keep
him alive, but he would die of old age out there in the cold vacuum long before he could
fly back at his highest possible speed.

The True Believer infused his blood with Brainiac 5's anti-lead serum, then channeled the
powers of Sodal Yat, the Daxamite Ultimate Green Lantern. A Phantom Zone Ray
Projector materialized in his hand. He dropped straight down toward the center of the
battle.
Maximum Deathblood was unhappy. There was no one left who could challenge him. All
around him was nothing but wreckage and fallen corpses.

Charming Girl hadn't lasted two seconds.

He spied the figures of Das Capitan and Mr. Mimic and headed towards them. He would
kill them if that was all he had.

Mr. Mimic and Das Capitan continued to trade blows like thunderbolts. Dark, arcane
energies streamed off of them. Mimic was weakening, slowly but inexorably. Das
Capitan saw this. He laughed and doubled his efforts.

Fear flickered across Mimic's features. He saw the end coming, knew there would be no
mercy. It was interesting how one decision lead to another, building a complicated chain
of events whose consequence was unclear until it was too late to change anything.

He had perhaps ten or fifteen seconds left, then his life would be over. He searched
frantically for some way to extend those precious moments, some final satisfaction. There
was none. He was going to die a horrible, painful, meaningless death, and there was
nothing he could do about it.

Just as he accepted that fact, Das Capitan tore his abdomen open and ripped out his heart.

The Dark Captain roared in triumph. He was victorious. He would march across the
world with his armies until every land lay in submission before him. He would live the
dark dream of every conqueror who preceded him. He would rape the fool Excelsior. He
would-

Hatman drove the sword of Pureheart into Das Capitan's heel - his one vulnerable point.
The power of the Monitor flowed through Hatman, through the sword, into the veins of
the Dark Captain.

Das Capitan screamed. Black waves of evaporating mystic energies boiled off of him. He
diminished in size, changed rapidly, shrinking, shifting...

Until where he had been there was only a small girl in rags, her face streaked with tears,
eyes wide with horror. The aberrant evil power possessing her had been driven out.

Utgaard-Henry, Maximum Deathblood, J'onn, Maniaq, and the Secret Velociraptor

converged on them.
Chapter 45: Going Home
(by Jason Borelli)

Just then, as Hatman found himself surrounded by the Pantheon, something weird
happened. Space itself began to contort, twisting and hissing at the same time.

The others didn't know. But Hatman did. It was a dimensional portal. When Merlcow had
thrown the bomb into a dimensional pocket, the blast must have created a rift in the fabric
of space and time.

The vacuum began to suck Hatman in. The others tried to chase him, but to no avail.
Stephen Cmelak was gone. Destination: Unknown. And the portal shrank before the
others could follow suit.

Excelsior was blinded by the light, giving the Pantheon just enough time to escape via the
sewer system.

"It's over."

Excelsior used Metamorpho's ability to create a cage trapping Michaella. He didn't know
where the other members of the Pantheon went. But no matter. They were now without
their leader, and running scared.

"It's all over."

He slumped down, and began to search for any surviving comrades.

The Sewer. Very smelly. Definitely very bad. Here was where the Ewok-Oompa Loompa
war took place, after a paw was found in a Wonka bar. Piles of dead soldiers were visible.
This would be the hiding place for the Pantheon.

"Freaking beautiful!" shouted Jester. "We come to within minutes of victory, and BOOM!
Fearless leader gone. Now what the hell do we do?"

"We could've chosen a better getaway," remarked J'onn. "This place stinks!"

"C'mon, cry-babies," sneered 'Raptor. "It ain't that bad, once you get used to it."

"One, two...six of us here," noted Deathblood. "I say with the bulk of our friends dead or
missing, I say we hide here. Lay low. Then, when they least expect it...BAM!"

Utgaard-Henry looked forlornly.

"Hat's gone. He's really gone."

"Shut up, buttmunch-mongst-men!" exclaimed Maniaq. "Use it as motivation. Cause one

day, we're gonna find that fake Hat, and we're gonna rip him a new one!"

The others nodded in agreement.

The Moon

Deathwish sat on the surface. Excelsior had underestimated his speed. The craft just
beyond Saturn's rings didn't hurt either. He knew that the goodie-goodies would be
waiting for him in Washington. So he decided not to go back.

He began to fly. He remembered the $2M hit put on L.A. mayor Orthenal Simpson. And
someday, he's going to pay back the Hatman...

J Street

It was a normal day. Or at least what passes for normal. Suddenly, a portal began to glow
and grow.

Jason Borelli, Green Lantern of the Pantheon, watched.

"GUYS! INCOMING!"

The populace of J Street gather around. In weeks past, members of the Pantheon had
come back from separate dimensions. There were many still missing. Cap Pantheon,
MacTyson, Willie, and of course, the Hatman.

Soon, a figure dropped out of the portal.

"Who?"
"Let me look."
"Got a five sez it that Temp guy."
"Boy, this one looks familiar."

"Call the nunnery," Jason said, cleaning off the blood. "I gotta see who...who...who..."
"What's wrong, Jason?" asked OzBat.

"It's him," said Gail. "It's him, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Gail," said Jason. "It's the Hat."

As the populace shouted in glee, Jason constructed a stretcher, and wheeled him to
Madonna's.

And one thought pierced through the fatigue, just before Hatman lost consciousness.

I did it. I'm a hero.

THE END