#Mount Justice

[satoshy12]

Virus/Bio-Android Danny

Danny, after a fight on a computer, was turned into a virus by Nicolai Technus. He was struck by the internet and was having more fun than he should have with it. He has to give Technus this; it was a very nice new weapon he used on him, so while he waited for Tucker and Sam to find a way to fix it, he traveled around on the Internet. + It didn't take Danny long to be taken into a communicator that seemed to be used by heroes. Tucker would be totally jealous of him meeting Heroes! Only a few heroes noticed Danny but didn't say anything. I thought he was just a program that wasn't fully finished by Batman. ++ While a virus? Danny's mind worked much faster, as he was able to learn new things much easier than a human. So if he cheated by dowloading the whole vocabulary and book into his mind for school, Who would be able to proof it? ++ But he got bored, and while it was fun to talk with heroes, he kind of wanted his body back. So Danny started to wait till his body; is fixed.

Well, Danny came out of the Zeta Beam; it was just like his old body! But not yet how it should be; his mind was still like the virus, but his body was back to a halfa.

With that, he just walked his way out of Mount Justice and back to Amity Park.

+++ Easier to explain Gamer Danny (Danny could go halfa in the doomed game, so it's like Danny has a video game body outside of the video game.) +++ Batman looked at the surveillance camera and just looked at the League. When did they plan to tell him about the AI that was inside their computer? and who covered it up. He wasn't angry; the A.I. had just a normal human body after all. But he kind of wants to know who created it and why.

[nitpickrider]

Well @#$% you too, Reddy. They only saved your life, rescued your daughter and reminded you of your humanity on multiple occasions. But it makes the characters seem "self aware" to make fun of experiences they've had I guess.

[diver5ion]

[a-deck-of-cards]

Tim: If I had a nickel for every time me and my friends caused an international accident, I would have two nickels

Tim: Which isn’t a lot but it’s weird it happened twice.

[phantom-z0ne]

Kingdom Come - Part 2

Part 1

WC: 3545

CW: Minor Character Deaths, Corpses, Disfigured bodies, Cults, Blood

Damian was missing and Dick was going crazy.

Damian hasn't responded to any inquiries of his location since he missed his scheduled check in time. It had already been two hours past that and they still didn't have any clue where he was. Last they knew, he was heading towards Chinatown. Damian knew a couple of the locals and regularly visited some animals, mostly cats and dogs but occasionally a bird or two.

They would have been able to track him with his comm, but Damian had modified it so that it was untrackable unless it was being used. Unfortunately, they hadn't learned of it before today. If they were to track him through his comm, they would only have a short time to triangulate his position. Damian stated that he wanted his privacy, likely so he could disobey orders without them realizing. They had allowed it because they trusted his judgment, not to mention they all had their rebellious phase, but now it was coming back to bite them in the ass.

It was unfortunate they didn’t have Barbara helping, she was off on her own mission with the Birds of Prey and not in Gotham. Finding Damian would have been way easier with her help, she was an expert in navigating the surveillance systems around Gotham.

Dick could tell he wasn't the only one concerned about their youngest, the others were worried in their own ways. Jason fidgeted with his gun, which Bruce was just barely tolerating, as he paced the rooftop while Tim ran the diagnostics multiple times, his fingers flying on his wrist hologram.

Cass and Bruce’s unease was less noticeable, the only reason he caught it was that he knew them for such a long time. Bruce double checked his trackers and flew across the roofs in search of Damian. Cass was tense and alternated standing near each of them, subtly clenching her hands into fists as she did.

“Robin, come in.” Bruce demanded, Dick felt the desperation in his voice although it was hidden well. He didn't want to lose another son while Dick didn't want to lose another brother. 

There wasn’t a reply, only the sound of static filled their ears.

Dick sighed, running his hands through his hair. They needed to find Damian quickly. The longer they didn't locate him, the longer his captures had to smuggle him out of the city. If Damian was taken out of the city, it would be infinitely harder to find him. 

He couldn’t let that happen, especially to Damian. He’s already had a tough life, what with how he grew up. His integration into the family was difficult on everyone, B was gone and Tim had chosen to pursue a theory he had thought of at the time insane. Jason wasn’t on talking terms with them at that time and Cass had her own responsibilities across the world. Steph was also busy with juggling her hero and civilian lives, though her attitude towards Damian did turn around in the end.

The comm crackled, faint sounds coming through. Dick jolted, jarred out of his thoughts from the abrupt opening of the comm. Both Cass and Tim’s hands went to their comms as Jason stilled. The shuffling of cloth was most prominent, though he could hear a quiet voice.

“Robin, report. What is your location?” Bruce asked, hope underlying his words.

There was the sound of shuffling before a young, unfamiliar voice sounded, “Is this comm trackable?”

That was not Damian. Did he kidnap Damian and was going to ask for a ransom or gloat? Another also kidnapped alongside Damian? Or perhaps a concerned civilian who had nothing to do with Damian’s disappearance?

“Who are you?” Bruce demanded, treating the unknown as a hostile. It was understandable, this was a stranger who possibly abducted his son.

“You can call me Polka. I'm not sure of the location but Robin is unconscious. We are in a warehouse.” The voice responded. ‘You can call me Polka?’ Was he implying that Polka wasn’t his name or the only one he goes by? Dick’s siblings crowded closer to Bruce as if they couldn’t hear out of their own comms.

The good news was that they now knew where to search. Most warehouses were either near the docks or the Warehouse District. That meant they had two areas to search if Tim didn't triangulate where Damian’s comm was during the short conversation. He could see Tim hunched over, one hand typing swiftly in his wrist hologram. 

“Stay where you are, I’ll be there shortly.” Bruce said curtly, his cape snapping as he turned to Tim and asked if he captured the location of the comm. Tim gave him a thumbs up and sent the coordinates. 

They piled into their own vehicles and sped their way across the city, heading towards the warehouse Damian was held in. 

They surrounded the warehouse once they arrived, Bruce entering first before they snuck in from different entrance points. Dick shivered slightly as he situated himself behind the boy who Damian was laid out on. His siblings spread out and surrounded the boy from all sides.

The warehouse was a mess, blood pooling from the disfigured bodies laying every which way. Dick could faintly spot a chalk circle underneath a pool of blood. Another cult, he surmised grimly. There have been too many cults running around lately for his liking, though it looked like this one had fallen victim to their own summoning. 

There wasn't much he could tell about the boy from behind, his baggy clothes hiding his frame. His hair was what stood out the most, cropped silver hair. It seemed to almost glow in the dark warehouse. Dick’s attention went back to Bruce who stepped out from the shadows and addressed the boy after taking Damian back into his custody, though he kept an eye out on the boy.

“None, I just happened to find him. Who are you?” The boy asked, standing. That was interesting. Everyone from Gotham knew who Batman was, and even if you weren't, Batman was still a famous figure.

Bruce answered in his signature low voice, obviously gearing up to interrogate the boy. That was his cue to step in. They’ve done this routine before, good cop and bad cop. It was surprisingly successful.

“Happened to find him?” Dick questioned, rolling down from the support beam he was perched on and revealed himself. The boy turned to him, his hair fanning across his face. A black stripe cut into his silvery hair. It was the inverse of Jason’s hair, Dick thought absently. 

The boy’s face was blank, unsurprised to see another vigilante popping up behind him. Dick’s eyes were drawn to the scar on his neck. It spanned most of the neck and would be most definitely fatal if it was deep enough. The boy was 15, 16 years max. Where would he have gotten a scar like that? Not to mention, he was too calm in this situation. Blood and viscera surrounded him and all he seemed was bored. 

Slight motion to the right made Dick’s eyes snap to the plush on the boy’s shoulder, almost certain that it moved on its own. “How exactly did you find him? We can't be sure you weren’t the one who abducted him, after all.”

The boy took his time to answer, his face slightly scrunched in thought. Faint sound of movement emerged from his comm but he showed no signs of hearing it.

He pointed to the body of the cultest then to the mound that Dick hadn’t paid much attention to as he answered, “They kidnapped Robin, me, and a couple other kids. They killed the others. Who are you?

Dick heard a sharp inhale, likely in reaction to the dead children. It looked like they were thrown there uncaringly, Dick thought angrily. They were piled on top of each other, some of their limbs bent unnaturally. Most of the injuries were from a slit neck, but there were signs of other injuries. These poor kids were likely tortured first then slaughtered. 

He could see Bruce soften after the boy answered, likely thinking the same things as Dick.

Dick sighed silently, sheathing his escrima sticks as he walked to stand closer to Bruce and Damian. “I’m called Nightwing. Can you tell us why you and Robin are unharmed?”

“They already summoned the God of the Dead, or Corpse God, by then. It wasn't needed.” Jason cursed. They were too late, for both the kids and the summoning. Not to mention the ominous name of the being that was summoned. Just what were these cultists planning for summoning such a being? Probably to ‘rid the world of impurities’ like every other cult he came across.

Bruce asked for confirmation of the being, pulling out his ‘victim voice’. It was significantly softer than what he usually spoke as Batman. The boy nodded, affirming their suspicions on the being. Though, where was it? Usually, summoned being raged and caused destruction in their wake, especially ones with such ominous names. There was no sign of this one.

Dick pasted on a smile and bent closer to the boy, “Did you see where the God of the Dead went?” 

The boy nodded as he bit his lips, visibly nervous. It was a bit strange to see such an expression on the child when he was blase for most of the conversation. He leaned forward as the boy cupped his hand over his mouth and whispered, “He’s still here.” 

Dick felt a shiver race down his spine, one of his siblings sucked in a breath. That was… not good. Was this a trap? Had the God of the Dead been lying in wait and observing them since they had arrived?

The atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a knife. Everyone was tense and ready for battle. Of course, that was when Damian began to stir, calling out to Bruce once he opened his eyes. Bruce adjusted his hold on Damian, beginning to answer Damian before he was cut off by the boy.

“Can I go now? I was with my friends before this. They’re probably worried.” Dick most certainly couldn't let a key witness, and a most definitely traumatized child, wander off without supervision. 

“Sorry, you’re coming with us.” Dick said apologetically. 

The boy did not like that. He crossed his arms and gave them an annoyed look. “Why?”

Jason, Tim, and Cass took this as the perfect time to reveal themselves. They hopped down from their respective posts and gathered near Bruce. Tim, however, aimed for the cultists as he responded, “We need more information and to verify your story. And for your protection.” 

The boy's eyes lingered over Cass and Jason before focusing on the latter, his expression curious. Jason obviously noticed but didn't pay it any mind, more interested in fussing over Damian who wasn’t having it, swatting Jason’s hovering hands away. 

“Won't that be kidnapping? Since I don't want to go to a secondary location with strangers? Kidnapping is illegal, you know.”

Jason answered as he finally relented from teasing Damian, “Well, it's a good thing the law is more like suggestions to us.” This did nothing to stop the boy from looking apprehensive. Good job, Jason, Dick thought tiredly.

Tim interrupted the boy when he stated that the cultists were, in fact, not dead. It blindsided Dick. Many of the cultists were in pieces as others had bled enough to be six feet under.

Damian looked mildly curious as Bruce and Tim questioned the survival of the cultists, likely thinking over the logistics of how they still lived. Eventually, Bruce asked Tim to alert the hospital and GCPD. They wouldn't be arriving in a long while, it was still Gotham after all.

Dick walked over to them as they discussed the boy and the cultist, hearing the tail end of Tim’s suspicions. 

“—clearly up with him. Despite the situation he’s in, he is unusually calm.”

That was true, not many kids were so nonchalant about almost being ritually sacrificed. Or seeing mangled bodies and pools of blood laying around.

Dick glanced at the boy—he really should be calling him Polka by now, since it was the only name he was given—seeing him grow red-faced as he spoke with Jason. 

The almost silent crackle of a radio signaled their time was up, they needed to leave before the police arrived. 

Herding Polka out of the building and out of sight was easy, all they needed to do was avoid cameras and stick to the shadowed side of the alley. Those who saw the group were quick to run away.

Losing Polka, however, was not something Dick expected to happen. They all were hyper aware of their surroundings, and in turn, the kid. How he managed to disappear under the scrutiny of six highly trained vigilantes, Dick didn't know. 

They had to admit defeat after searching the area and beyond for an hour and a half, Damian being sent back for an examination despite his objections early into their search, and trudge back to the cave unsuccessful. 

Dick watched Jason walk into the infirmary—jokingly nicknamed the “batfirmary” by Steph— and remove his helmet from his seat next to Damian’s cot. Steph walked in after him, plopping down on the end of the mattress next to Jason and ignored Damian’s hissed demands for them to get off. 

Cass slunk in a moment later, Tim behind her. He was still typing on his wrist computer as he sat on the opposite side of Damian. Cass leaned on the arm of his chair, gazing curiously at the screen.

Off to the right, through a sliver of the thick cloth that blocked the med bay, sat Bruce. The light from the Batcomputer illuminated his bent figure. 

Dick pursed his lips, not liking the expression that crossed his father’s face. Whenever there were children involved, Bruce always got into a mood. It wasn’t that the rest of them didn’t, but Bruce’s mood was always the worst. He wouldn't accept any food or comfort until he solved the case and got justice for the innocent children. 

As his child and fellow vigilante, Dick couldn't let Bruce neglect himself like that, least of all when it wasn’t his fault the children died. He stood, walking over to Bruce and laid a hand on his shoulder. He gently squeezed, offering all the comfort that was allowed. Bruce gave him a weary smile.

“You should join us.” Dick said, retracting his hand to cross his arms. “It does you no good just sitting here. Damian needs you right now.” 

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just… I need to give those children justice.”

“Bruce, they aren’t going anywhere. You need to focus on the child in front of you.” Dick winced at how that came out. “I mean, Damian should be your priority right now. He’s recovering from being kidnapped!”

“You're right.” Bruce sighed, straightening his back slightly. “They aren’t going anywhere.”

Dick walked back to his seat, pleased with the sound of Bruce’s footsteps behind him. He watched as Damian’s face brightened when he spotted his father, and the subsequent haughty look he made to cover it up. 

“How are you doing, Damian?” Bruce asked, sitting on the cot. 

“I am fine, Father. It was just a scratch.” Damian answered, lifting his chin then frowning. “I didn't need to be hauled to the infirmary. I could have helped track down the boy.”

“We had to check if the cultist had done anything else to you. Would you rather not know if they had? And how did they manage to even snatch you anyways?” Tim intervened, crossing his legs as he looked up from his wrist computer. 

“They used defenseless animals against me.” Dick almost cooed at Damian’s pout. He was always glad to see Damian act his age. 

“What kinds of animals?” Steph leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. 

“… Kittens.” Damian admitted quietly.

“They lured you in with kittens?!” Jason said hysterically. Muffled snorts came from all around, Dick himself wasn't exempt from laughing either. Everyone but Jason quickly pasted on an innocent face when Damian furiously glared at them, he didn't bother covering up his laughter. Even Bruce seemed amused, his eyes darting between them with a fond look on his face.

“Do you remember what happened?” Cass signed. Dick could tell she was still worried about Damian, the sides of her eyes were creased and her lips held together tightly.

“I passed out after I was hit over the head.” Damian began, the bedding clenched in his fists. “I remember waking up a couple of times but it wasn't for long. The last time I awoke, the boy was there.”

Bruce put his hand over Damian, his lips pursed. He clearly didn't like how his son was treated, and looking around, none of them were. “Did he do anything?”  

“He told me to rest.” Damian said simply, brows furrowed.

“And you did?” Tim asked, dumbfounded. Dick was just as confused, Damian barely took orders from them that he deemed unnecessary, so him listening to a random civilian? It was unheard of.

“That was the strange thing. The moment he told me to, I was overwhelmed with drowsiness. I couldn't help falling asleep.”

A magic user? Dick thought speculatively. Or perhaps a meta? There were many abilities that could cause someone to fall unconscious with just a word, and just as many with aftereffects. Dick prayed that there weren’t any lasting effects on Damian, he wasn't sure what he would do if there were.

“I knew there was something up with him!” Tim announced, jumping up from his seat. “The fact that he was so calm in such a bloody environment was the first clue. Why would he be calm, let alone stay in that warehouse, when he was abducted and watched others be sacrificed? Plus, despite telling us the Corpse God—or God of the Dead, whatever— there was no sign of the being other than the cultist’s dismangled bodies. Why did he lie?” He paced back and forth, letting his theories flow like water.

Cass knocked on the wall, gathering their attention. She signed, “He didn’t lie.”

“He didn’t?” Dick questioned, understandably confused.

She shook her head, “He was truthful the whole time, but was he hiding something.” 

“He could have been misleading you.” Steph crossed her arms. “He was being pretty vague in the recordings I watched. Plus, some of his words could have been taken in a different way.”

“That's true. The way he slipped away from us wasn’t something a civilian could do. Even a meta would be hard pressed to disappear from right under our noses.” Jason spoke up, a thoughtful look on his face. 

“I’ll call Zatanna.” Bruce sighed, getting up from his seat. “Get some rest, we’ll have a long day tomorrow.”

“He’s right. We need to conserve our energy for interrogating Polka tomorrow.” Dick ushered his disgruntled sibling towards the staircase leading to the manor.

Once he was sure they were in their rooms, Jason deciding it was too late to go to his own safehouse, he returned to the cave. Damian was unsurprisingly still awake, his stubbornness fighting against his weariness. 

Dick dimmed the lights of the cave and headed towards the infirmary. Giving his brother a quick peck on the forehead and tucking him in, much to Damian’s displeasure, he grabbed a tablet and wrote up a report next to the cot. He made sure to include his sibling’s theories in the notes margin.

Soft muttering sounded off to the side, behind the infirmary’s curtain. After making sure Damian was asleep, Dick crept towards the sound. Around the corner, Bruce’s frustrated voice spoke. He ended the call a minute after he spotted Dick leaning on the wall with his arms crossed.

“Constantine?”

“Zatanna was busy.” Bruce ran his hands through his hair. He was clearly tired after the eventful day, but Bruce would continue working despite his complaints, Dick bitterly thought. He shook his head, now was not the time for those kinds of thoughts. 

Dick hummed and walked towards the Batcomputer. He sat down, Bruce a couple feet away typing away on another monitor. He transferred his half finished report to the computer in front of him, finding a keyboard easier to write with than a tablet. 

He let out a yawn. He had been up for more than twenty four hours, most of that time spent patrolling and studying cases in the Batcave. He laid his head on his arms, a quick nap wouldn't hurt, would it?

Distantly, he felt a heavy weight cover him. He let out a murmur of thanks for the blanket and fell asleep, not hearing the whispered response. 

The insistent buzzing of the tablet woke him. He stretched, his back popping, before unlocking the tablet. A gasp escaped him once he laid eyes on the screen.

“Uh, B? You’ll need to see this.” Bruce looked at him in question before rolling closer, eyes widening slightly once he read the article.

In strikingly bold letters, the headline was “JOKER MAULED BY THE UNDEAD”.

──── ∘°❉°∘ ────

Wrote a large chunk of this months ago and just sat on it since I didn't know how to write batfam interactions. I'm pretty satisfied with how it came out :)

──── ∘°❉°∘ ────

Masterpost | Part 3

[mandaloriandragontrainer]

Do you think by S6, Rayllum will have learned to just stick to sharing the shadowpaw, since that’s what they always end up doing anyways…? Also, Callum’s always have the most bad luck…

For the sake of Callum’s horses, let’s hope so 😭

[eretzyisrael]

By  Kassy Dillon

Mount Holyoke College’s anti-Israel student group posted various pro-violence graphics to social media, referring to themselves as militants and stating that “armed struggle” is the only way to “liberate Palestine.”

Last week, the 1837SJP club at the Massachusetts college posted a graphic with five points to its Instagram, one of which called for the destruction of Israel by stating that “Palestine” must be Arab and that “armed struggle is the only way to liberate Palestine.”

The Mount Holyoke SJP group posted a graphic claiming “armed struggle is the only way to liberate Palestine.”

The group claims to be the official Students for Justice in Palestine chapter at Mount Holyoke on its social media page. The group, which uses “1837” in its name to refer to the year the college was founded, is not a registered student organization, according to the student paper.

Schools around the country have been embroiled in controversy over their handling of anti-Israel demonstrations and many documented anti-Semitic incidents since the October 7 Hamas massacre of Israeli citizens. The students at Mount Holyoke, like radical student groups at other American universities, appear to be embracing terrorism against Jews. 

In a January post, the Mount Holyoke group called itself a “militant community 4 good.” It also advocated for students to let them know if they are “down for arrest” and encouraged students to “not be a cop” with the text “oink,” referring to police officers as pigs. The group has referred to the U.S.-designated terror group Hamas as “Palestinian resistance brigades.”

The anti-Israel student group at Mount Holyoke called themselves a “militant community 4 good” in a graphic on their Instagram.

On Christmas, the group shared a graphic of a masked man with the text “May Israel fall Inshallah.”

[lemonlimestar]

i’m really happy with all the talk about sculpture re: the kon major poll bc i need to project my enjoyment of puppets onto someone. he would be so good at puppetry i know this. and! it could be either more sculptural ones or more textile based ones! he contains multitudes. i think he should be allowed to make a giant cardboard monster things with working jaws btw.

[aurelion-solar]

Legends of Runeterra - The Darkin Saga: World Ender Mihira, Aspect of Justice - Divine Clerk - Seraphic Wyvern - Lawkeeper - Winged Messenger

[theia-eos]

Sorry for the 🤓☝️ moment but there are more than three named wyvern across the series!

Here are the lists of named mounts(it's complete, as far as I can tell) if you're interested:

(for pegasi: https://fireemblemwiki.org/wiki/Pegasus#Notable_pegasus_mounts)

(for wyverns: https://fireemblemwiki.org/wiki/Wyvern#Notable_wyvern_mounts)

(for horses: https://fireemblemwiki.org/wiki/Horse#Notable_horses)

Ahaha, it's all right. Maybe I forgot to specify earlier, but there's only been three named wyverns post GBA Era, and one pegasus since as well. I know there were quite a few in the SNES(Super Famicon)/GBA games. Thanks for those links, though, I don't believe I've seen them in that order before!

I'm glad to see the horses have been treated better post GBA, which three named Horses in the DS/Switch era!

But the fact that they had plenty of names before is why I'm particularly salty about the fact that there are no named mounts in Tellius. Elincia's pegasus that she inherits from her great grandmother doesn't even get a name.

And there were plenty of opportunities too! Kieran could have just said in his supports with Marcia "Some knights treat their horses like transport, but not me! (Name) here is my brother-in-arms!" If Bastian was alive when Elincia gets the pegasus, he could have interjected with a name. Jill, who has a talent for caring for wyverns, could have told Ike when she was explaining why she had to stay on the ship "I can't push (name) that far, we'd never cross the ocean" or encouraged her wyvern to go just a little father when she appears on the ship map.

And I know the mount bond isn't pushed as hard in the re-classing games that come later, but Sophia names her horse. Cherche, Percy, and Rosado name their wyverns. Hortensia's pegasus gets an implied name through her class description.

Am I really expected to believe Cynthia doesn't have some over the top heroic name (possibly after the legendary queen Caeda) for her pegasus? Odin doesn't insist upon a name for Camilla's wyvern, just her armor? Marianne doesn't try to redirect Claude to discuss his wyvern? Claude doesn't offer her a quick throwaway about his wyvern to try and put her at ease before pressing her about her secret? Ivy doesn't have to reluctantly reveal, with great embarassment, that she named her wyvern after Alear to anyone?

[starboyjude]

MOUNT IS SO SO FIT GUYS

[mummer]

TAYLOR SWIFT IN THE UNIVERSE WHERE SHE IS A TRADCATH: jesus is my boyfriend jesus is a god (kind of) jesus is the breeze in my hair on the weekend jezza’s a relaxing thought arent you envious that for jews he’s not

[il-predestinato]

I love your edits! It's really a shame that HotD only gave us a few blurry seconds of Sunfyre </3 my golden boy deserves his golden dragon

Thank you so much! I had so much fun making it.

Yes exactly, Max + Sunfyre the Golden would have been the perfect pairing! And RB18 is a boy (like Sunfyre)! Sadly HotD showrunners REFUSED to give us proper footage of Sunfyre and now we have to wait until at least 2024! I can't believe this is all we got: 😭😭😭

(At least I got an unnecessary terrorism scene Meleys The Red Queen footage for Charles. 🥺 And Vhagar is badass so she still works for Max.)

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“OTTAWA WILL SUPPRESS LABOR DEFENCE LEAGUE, POLICE MAKE FIRST RAID,” Owen Sound Sun-Times. February 22, 1933. Page 6 --- Immediate Sequel to Crisp Warning of Mr. Bennett ---- IS CANADA-WIDE ---- Mounted Police Raid Headquarters at Prince Rupert -- (Canadian Press Despatch) OTTAWA, Feb. 22 — Nation-wide investigation of the Canadian Labor Defense League — allegedly the Communist Society in Canada operating under another name — has been ordered by the Dominion Government and is being conducted by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

Raid on the Prince Rupert headquarters of the league and seizure of its books which occurred yesterday is the first move in the campaign to stamp out the propaganda which this organization has been carrying on. 

A Prince Rupert books and papers were taken from local headquarters of the league. No arrests were made. According to Hon. Hugh Guthrie, Minister of Justice, the organization is being financed from outside Canada and rhe Minister can surmise only that the money is coming from Moscow.

Evidence is in the possession the Mounted Police to show that the Defense League seeks to overthrow the Canadian form of government by violent measures and that it is co-operating with Communists in the United States, who have threatened the Minister by telegraph telling him what will happen If the Reds Incarcerated in Portsmouth Penitentiary are not liberated. 

"We have been watching the Canadian Labor Defense League very closely," Attorney-General Price said last night. He Indicated, however, that any action would probably emanate from Ottawa.

[phantom-z0ne]

Kingdom Come - Part 1

"A bright flash of light blinded him as he landed on his feet, bending his knees to brace for the impact. The first thing he noticed was the sound of wailing and the wetness beneath his shoes. There were small, child sized shades reaching toward a group dressed in black robes, hoods obscuring their faces. The hooded figures whispered between themselves after he arrived, seeming delighted when they saw him. Their souls ballooning in anticipation and fervent joy. Distantly, he could tell the robed figures were asking something of him in excitement, but Polka was focused on the group of shades crowding around him. They latched onto his clothes, crying thick black tears. ‘Help us’, they asked, pawing at him, ‘Save us!’" Or, Polka and Corpse God are summoned into the DCU and give more than a few heroes headaches.

WC: 4160

CW: Minor Character Deaths, sacrificial murder, cults, blood and ghosts

The faint tugging sensation in his gut was what tipped him off that something was wrong. Even the real Polka seemed to understand something was off, his plush body moving from side to side, seeking out what he previously detected. Polka scanned his surroundings, Takumi typing away on his computer while Misaki chatted away with Sayo. He could sense Xiaoyu toiling away in the kitchen, Civil and his friends training in the basement. Nothing was out of place and yet he still felt apprehensive.

A sharper tug stole a gasp from him, the background noise of talking paused as his friends turned to look at him. It was as if there was a string tied to his ribs and someone pulling, trying to attract his attention. The longer it went on, the more painful it felt.

The soft body of his brother rubbed against Polka’s cheek, aura conveying the real Polka’s worry and slight curiosity. He softly petted the shark body in reassurance, turning to his friends to do the same when a harsher yank arrived, shoving him to his knees. He turned his gaze down, noticing the magical circle beneath his feet that definitely wasn't there a moment before. Was he being attacked again? By who?

Takumi and Misaki stood with a shout of his name, beginning to approach him. He splayed his hand in front of him, “Don't get closer!” They paused.

Who knows what this magic circle would do, he didn't recognize what its purpose was and didn't want his friends to be caught up in it. How he was connected to it was a different story.

Turning his gaze inwards, Polka took a good look at his soul. His soul was standard looking for a necromancer, a grayish silver color, almost like mercury. There was a thin yet steadily growing thread binding him to the magic circle. It didn't appear to have much power over him but the little it did wanted him to complete its purpose. From what little of the archaic runes he could interpret, this was a type of transportation array. It would bring him to a specified area the creator designed it to. 

Unfortunately, there was little he could do in this situation. He couldn’t shake this circle off with what little magic he had remaining after the fight with Civil, but he also didn't want to just go wherever he would be transported. 

The circle pulled more insistently, Polka sinking slightly into the magic circle. He wouldn't be able to resist much longer at this rate. The real Polka wiggled frantically, his friends also in various states of alarm.

“I’ll be back soon.” Polka reassured his friends. He wasn't planning on sticking around the area he would be transported. It would be better to conserve his magic and use it for defense then just use it up resisting. If he had more magic, he would have been able to sever the connection between him and the magic circle.

A shout of ‘Wait—’ hit his ears as Polka let go of his tight hold on his magic, letting the magic circle overwhelm his form, encasing him in thick black strands. It pulled him into the circle, darkness surrounding him on all sides. 

Weightlessness came over him before he was quickly pulled downward, his clothes whipping around in the non-existent wind. It felt as if he was falling down a vertical tunnel. He had to grab the shark plush his brother was housed in before it was blown away. It stayed like that for a while, Polka falling for an indefinite time, waiting to finally land.

A bright flash of light blinded him as he landed on his feet, bending his knees to brace for the impact. The first thing he noticed was the sound of wailing and the wetness beneath his shoes. There were small, child sized shades reaching toward a group dressed in black robes, hoods obscuring their faces. The hooded figures whispered between themselves after he arrived,seeming delighted when they saw him. Their souls ballooning in anticipation and fervent joy.  

Polka pulled his attention back to the spirits. They were new, probably created at most an hour ago. Their expressions were full of grief and confusion. They solidified the longer he stared, likely realizing he could see them. 

Distantly, he could tell the robed figures were asking something of him in excitement, but Polka was focused on the group of shades crowding around him. They latched onto his clothes, crying thick black tears. ‘Help us’ , they asked, pawing at him, ‘Save us!’

Looking around the shades, he saw a small pile. In the dim lighting, it was hard to make out. Taking a step closer, his shoes squelched from the sticky floor. He was stepping in a dark puddle, the overwhelming scent of iron revealed the liquid as blood. Tracing the blood with his eyes, it led to the pile. The pile of deceased children. Oh. The shark plush on his shoulder shivered, obviously unsettled from the image.

“Oh Great God of the Dead, Corpse God, Devourer of Souls. We summoned you here today to ask of you to fulfill your glorious purpose.” Polka snapped his attention back to the robed group. One of the figures was a few steps ahead of the rest, speaking as the head of the group.

“My purpose.” Polka said flatly. The shades gathered around this person the most, anger and sorrow warring in their auras as they clawed at the figure’s robes. 

“To rid the world of impurities, of course!” The robed figure responded, clasping their hands fervently. The other members of the cult—it was quite obvious that it was a cult now that he took a closer look—bowed behind their leader, rubbing their hands together in prayer.

Polka narrowed his eyes, scanning the scene before him. The cultists surrounded him semicircle as he stood in a summoning array made from the blood of children. It was sickening.

One of the spirits, this one slightly older than the rest, lightly poked his shoulder. When he turned to them, they pointed to the side of the room. A young boy dressed in bright colors lay motionless, tied to the pillar. A steady stream of blood was dripping to the floor from a head wound.

He would have let them go had they not harmed children. Had they not sacrificed them in his name. He wouldn't kill them but let them live in agony. Let them think about what they’ve done, Polka thought vindictively.

“I see.” The leader’s hood rode up, showing an ecstatic smile that dropped when Polka lifted his hand towards him. Behind Polka, an unnaturally white skeleton arm came through a black dripping magic circle alongside a duplicate of it.

The arms crushed the leader, twisting his body into knots. A shrill scream signaled the rest of the cult to run for safety, Polka looked on unbothered as he gave the cult the same treatment as their leader. Eventually, the only sound in the warehouse was the faint breathing of the injured boy and moans of pain, though many of the cultists had already fallen unconscious from pain.

The spirits swarmed him after he dispelled the skeletal arms. Their aura’s lightening, some giving him a quick smile and a ‘Thank you’ before fading. He had gotten their revenge for them, it wasn't surprising that they decided to go to the beyond. 

A few shades held their hands out to him, feeling satisfied. He grasped their hands, feeding on their staying energy as they said their goodbye to him. The staying energy he just gathered replenished the magic he used earlier from his small reserves. Finally, it was just Polka, his brother, and the injured boy in the warehouse. 

The boy’s dark complexion was covered by the blood pouring from his head wound. Polka wouldn't be able to heal it without turning that part of his body into a corpse and he wouldn’t do that without the boy’s consent. 

Though the boy felt different from a regular human, a heavy sense of death covered him. He was most likely a revenant, he could still feel the aura of life in the boy. The energies were twined, both life and death mixed together in his aura.

Polka untied the boy, catching him when he fell onto him. The boy blearily opened his eyes, unfocused as he asked, “Grayson?” The shark plush looked away from the mess made of the cultists and towards the boy, finally taking the time to observe the young boy. He was worried, the feeling emanating from his aura. There was also a faint recognition.

“No.” Polka answered calmly.

The boy was alarmed, Polka noted, sluggishly struggling to extract himself from Polka’s hold. 

“Rest.” Polka placed his hand over the boy’s forehead, the boy’s eyes going wide before he slumped back into Polka’s embrace, eyes fluttering shut.

Polka took the time to assess the rest of the boy's wounds, checking him over and finding that the head wound was the only injury the boy had. It was sluggishly bleeding still.

Polka conjured a roll of gauze, applying to the boy’s wound and taping it closed. Now, he needed to figure out what to do with the boy. He couldn't just leave him lying unconscious in this warehouse for anyone to find.

The buzz of a comm answered that problem, a deep voice questioned “Robin, report. What is your location?” He paused, likely waiting for a response before repeating the message. Clearly, the boy, Robin, knew this man which meant it would be safe to hand responsibility of Robin over to him.

Polka plucked the comm from the boy’s ear, asking, “Is this comm trackable?”

“Who are you?” The voice demanded, on the edge of hostility.

“You can call me Polka. I'm not sure of the location but Robin is unconscious. We are in a warehouse.” Polka responded calmly, not taking the hostility to heart. The man was clearly worried about Robin being in the presence of a stranger.

“Stay where you are, I’ll be there shortly.” Polka shrugged and sat down against the pillar, placing Robin’s head in his lap. He fiddled with his brother’s plush boy, speaking with him. He wondered what the relationship between the man and Robin was. Were they father and son? Related? Or just had a mentor-mentee relationship? He shared his thoughts with his brother, who responded as best as he could.

In no time at all, a large man cloaked in black emerged from a shadowy corner of the warehouse. If he didn’t know better, Polka would have thought the man was using shadow magic. He was a bit surprised that the man was another revenant. The way life and death swirled around him was similar to Robin’.

He could sense the presence of four more people surrounding him, but couldn't see any of them. They hid themselves well, but unfortunately for them he could see their souls. They were obviously worried about Robin and wary of him. 

Polka stopped stroking Robin’s hair as the man strode up to him, looming over him menacingly. The man was quick to scoop Robin up and distance himself from Polka. Although Polka couldn’t see his eyes, he could tell that they bore into him intently. Polka stared back at the man impassively, tilting his head slightly. 

He felt a strange aura surrounding the man, a mixture of malevolent and benevolent emotions. Stretching his senses, he could feel it from the other four presences, though there was a higher amount of malevolence surrounding two of the presences. Had someone cursed them?

“What intentions do you have with Robin?” the man asked.

Polka shifted to his feet, placing the shark plush back in his hood as he stood, “None, I just happened to find him. Who are you?”

The man gave him a long look and said curtly, “Batman.” Polka felt his brother perk up at that. 

“Happened to find him?” A voice behind him asked, a man in a skintight black suit with a blue emblem stood behind him, smiling as he rolled two escrima sticks in his hands casually. “How exactly did you find him? We can't be sure you weren’t the one who abducted him, after all.”

Polka hummed, thinking on how to explain this. He can't expose his magic, that would be disastrous, but he isn't sure how to say he got here without magic. Plus, he was a terrible liar so he couldn't do that. But what he could do was shift the blame and tell the truth. Only, he would be omitting some details.

He pointed to the blood, balled up cultists, “They kidnapped Robin, me, and a couple other kids.” He pointed at the mountain of bodies, “They killed the others. Who are you ?”

The two men slightly softened at that, grief and guilt coming off of them in waves once they saw the children’s bodies. He sheathed his weapons as he walked to stand closer to Robin and Batman and asked, “I’m called Nightwing. Can you tell us why you and Robin are unharmed?” Polka’s brother was clearly excited, did he know these people?

“They already summoned the God of the Dead, or Corpse God, by then. It wasn't needed.” Polka replied evenly.

“They summoned what they called the God of the Dead?” Batman asked, his voice softer than before. 

Polka nodded, “That's what they called him. He’s the one who did that to the cultists.” He mimed balling up a paper. The man frowned while Nightwing looked thoughtful.

“Did you see where the God of the Dead went?” Nightwing asked after he plastered a warm smile on his face and bent down to be closer to Polka’s height.

Polka bit his lips, thinking of a way to phrase it without lying. Polka slowly nodded, eyes darting around as he feigned nervousness. He leaned towards the younger man and cupped his hand to his mouth, loudly whispering, “He’s still here.”

Alarm filled the warehouse sharply, the two men tensing. In contrast, his brother was gleeful, probably finding humor from him lying by omission to these people, though he was a bit apprehensive with the situation.

The interrogation was broken by Robin stirring. Robin quietly uttered, “Father…?” His voice was hoarse. So Polka’s theory was right, they were father and son. 

“Robin—” The man began, maneuvering Robin to a more seated position.

“Can I go now? I was with my friends before this. They’re probably worried.” Polka interrupted, sticking his thumb towards the exit.

“Sorry, you’re coming with us.” Nightwing said, giving him an apologetical look. Polka pursed his lips, not wishing to stay any longer. He had to get back to Takumi and Misaki. They were undoubtedly searching for him and probably worried out of their minds.

“Why?” Polka asked, crossing his arms. 

The three presences exposed themselves, walking towards their colleagues(?). One of them, dressed in a red and black suit with a long cape, answered, “We need more information and to verify your story. And for your protection.” 

The other two hovered around Robin and his father, one dressed in a full black suit, her mask stitched together over the mouth. The other was dressed in a leather jacket and had guns holstered on his thighs, a red helmet covered his head. It was clear that he had killed many, the heavy stench of death covered him. From what Polka could feel, he had probably taken hundreds of lives.

What Polka wasn’t expecting, though, was for him to be a zombie. Was there another necromancer around who resurrected him? It would be troublesome if they turned out to be his enemy. What was the coincidence that three people, probably family from the looks of it, all died and came back? Not to mention all of them having some connection with death?

If he went with them, the holes in his story would be blown wide open. He couldn't have that.

Polka tore his eyes away from the zombie and towards the one in red and black who was looking over the cultist bodies. “Won't that be kidnapping? Since I don't want to go to a secondary location with strangers? Kidnapping is illegal, you know.” 

“Well, it's a good thing the law is more like suggestions to us.” The zombie huffed, his voice coming out distorted, likely from the helmet. Polka paused, worried about what he got himself in. He should have just left the moment they arrived.

“What do you—” Polka started.

“They're alive!” The one dressed in red and black exclaimed, claiming the room's attention. 

“How.” Robin’s father growled. Robin looked on curiously, though obviously still out of it.

“I'm not sure. Their limbs are broken and twisted into knots but they’re obviously still alive. From the amount of blood spilt, they should be dead.” He replied, poking one of the cultists' body and earning a groan in return.

That's true, a regular body shouldn't have survived. Polka had just made sure that they would survive and face the consequences for their actions. They shouldn't have slaughtered so many children, Polka thought coldly.

“Black Bird, call the hospital and alert the police of what happened. Let's go.” Robin’s father barked.

Black Bird nodded, quickly typing away at what appeared to be a small computer embedded in his glove. Once he was finished, he stood and walked towards Robin's father and the one in blue, talking in hushed whispers with them. They gestured between him, the pile of children’s bodies, and the cultists as they spoke. 

Polka was left standing near the other two strangers, studying them once more as gestured towards one another. “What are your names?” He asked, looking between the one in a red helmet and the one with a stitched mouth mask.

“Never been in Gotham, kid?” The zombie questioned, sounding a bit incredulous. Polka shook his head, earning a huff from him. The one in black tilted her head curiously.

“I'm Red Hood and that's Black Bat.” Red Hood stuck his thumb at Black Bat who waved at him. Polka waved back.

“What's its name?” The zombie pointed to the plush his brother was stored in after a lull in the conversation.

Polka paused. He hadn’t ever thought of a name to present to others when asked. He blurted out, “Polka Jr.”

His face heated, a little mortified that was the first thing he thought of. 

The zombie snorted, or at least what Polka thought was a snort. It was hard to tell with the helmet's distortion. “You name all your plushies after yourself?” 

“No. Just this one.” Polka answered as he was led towards the back alley behind the warehouse. Robin’s father said earlier to ‘Report back to the cave’ after a couple minutes of casual conversation. 

Polka was surrounded by the strangers, the zombie and the one in all black behind him and Robin, Robin’s father and the one in blue walked in front of him. If he wanted to escape without ruining his cover, he would have to take a chance soon. 

They walked down the winding alleys, anyone standing in the alleys would scramble away the moment they saw the group. He could see a sleek black car parked just around the corner. If he used his magic at the right time, he could conceal himself and make a run for it.

It was when he turned the corner and the ones behind him had yet to do so that he had the chance. He deployed his magic, covering himself in shadows and augmented his body. He dashed towards an empty alleyway and stuck to the shadowy walls, hearing shouts of surprise behind him.

It was only after evading the group for twenty minutes straight that he slowed down, reasoning that they were likely off his trail already. He came to a stop near the opening of the alley, leaning on the wall after he dispelled his magic, panting as he let himself regain his breath. 

He had noticed this already, but there seemed to be a higher amount of mana here than in the real Polka’s world, almost rivaling his homeworld. Not to mention the amount of spirits he passed along the way. There were way less spirits in Japan than wherever he was now.

Even now, he could see a ghost across the street from him, haunting an apartment building. What had happened in this city for there to be so many spirits?

Once he had finished resting, Polka raised his hood, gently pushing the shark plush to his shoulder. 

He spotted a payphone not long after he joined the rush in the streets, and was reminded that he didn't have his phone on him. It was on the table back home and he didn't have the time nor energy to grab it before he was taken.

What he did have, though, was his wallet. He should have enough money to be able to make a call with Takumi or Misaki. Polka entered the booth and followed the instructions printed on the wall. Entering Takumi’s number, Polka waited for the call to connect.

What came instead was an automated message that said ‘The number you have tried to reach does not exist. Please check the number you have typed in and try again.’ When he tried Misaki’s number, the same message popped up. 

Polka frowned, he’s called both Takumi and Misaki’s number with different phones before and this had never happened before. Which means it wasn’t a problem with their phones, it was a problem with where he was summoned.

From the feel of the mana in the air and the strangely large amount of spirits, it was safe to assume that he was in another world. If this had happened before he was reincarnated, he wouldn't have come to such a conclusion. It's only because he was reincarnated that he knew that other worlds were possible.

Polka looked to the sky after he exited the booth, it was getting late and he’d need a place to stay for the night. Not to mention a large reservoir of magic to create a gateway back to his home. With the amount of spirits around, he doubted he would have much of a problem with gathering magic.

He decided to follow the largest signature of negative energy, there were most likely going to be spirits there. Usually when there are a large amount of spirits, the building is typically abandoned. 

He was right, pursuing it led him to an abandoned warehouse next to the docks. The amount of spirits was a bit astonishing, the last time he saw such a large quantity of ghosts was when he visited the mass grave of a town murdered by demons.

Entering the building, the ghosts crowded around him, some begging for help while others simply curious. Many of the ghosts were on the younger side, young adults and children, their faces bleached and mouths forced into a bloody smile.

He gave them a sympathetic look and asked, “Who did this to you?”

A cacophony of voices answered, many simply saying ‘Him’ while others repeated one name over and over. Joker.

One man killing this many people was troublesome, especially when they were so young. Polka hummed, coming to a decision and raising his hand towards the ghosts, “I’ll find him and avenge all of you. In exchange, I need your energy.” 

Many of the ghosts wailed, their aura fluctuating between happiness and wariness, obviously overjoyed that someone would avenge them but not quite trusting him yet.

“It's a promise.” Polka said, stretching his hand out more. Many of the ghosts looked between each other. Some came to him quickly, accepting his offer and passing on to the other side. Others deliberated, hesitant to believe him yet yearning to trust his promise if not him.

Eventually, Polka grasped their staying energy, watching as the final group of ghosts faded. He closed his eyes and let out a breath, letting the converted magic flow through him. He made a promise and he would act on it, he never broke a promise.

But first things first, he needed to rest, he was tired. Polka searched the warehouse and found a secluded room, no one would be going in without him knowing. 

He conjured a mattress with a couple of blankets and pillows and placed them in the center of the room. Setting up a protection and surveillance array, Polka flopped onto the mattress and placed his brother next to him. 

Polka is lucky that the world he was summoned to was so similar to his new world. Having to navigate a completely unfamiliar world would be really troublesome, he didn't want to deal with that again. 

Polka turned to his side. He needed to rest, he’ll have a busy day tomorrow. He had a killer to hunt down after all.

──── ∘°❉°∘ ────

Happy (very late) New Year! Enjoy the chapter!!

Masterpost | Part 2

[sylvaridreams]

he (finally) got a dogy.