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15 January 2007 @ 08:37 am
New JLU Story: Flash by Northwest  
Flash By Northwest (1/14)
a Justice League story
by dotfic and mtgat
Copyright 2007
TV-14 (DSLV)

Disclaimer: DC Comics and Warner Brothers own the characters and situations. No infringement on their property is intended or should be inferred.

Continuity/Spoilers: Takes place after JLU "Destroyer" and the events of the flashback in "Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker"

Thanks to amilyn for her beta on this work. Special thanks also to xffan_2000 and billa1 for editing above and beyond the call of duty on the final draft. All mistakes that may still be found herein are ours alone.

Pairings: Lots. If it was canon, if it was implied in canon --- heck, if we just thought it was amusing at the time --- it's in there.

Summary: The Big Seven (plus one) are trapped inside a world created by a magical artifact. As the body count rises, familiar faces hide deadly secrets and it's up to Flash to save them.


"You're not having dinner with Bruce Wayne."

"I think you meant to rephrase that, because it sounded like you just gave me an order." Mari put on a pleasant smile for the benefit of anyone watching. Here on the Watchtower, rumors orbited the Earth faster than the satellite did.

John's frown deepened. She tensed, then took John's hand because it was better than smacking him. "It's just business, Boo. His secretary set it up. He read that interview I gave last month about the girls' program, and now the Wayne Foundation wants to give us a little funding and publicity."

"Yeah." If disbelief was a color, his uniform would have been making a whole new fashion statement.

Mari counted backwards from ten in her head, and then again in French before she spoke. "I wasn't asking permission. I was telling you my plans for tonight. You have watch until midnight anyway so unless you were planning on retasking a satellite to follow me around this evening, you wouldn't even have known."

She didn't bring up the last time she'd been on a slow late evening watch and had called to find out John "happened" to be with Shayera fighting Copperhead and Cheetah.

"You don't know him," John said. "He's up to something."

"I thought Batman was the paranoid one."

John dropped his glower to glance at her curiously until she let out an exasperated breath.

"I'll talk to you later when you're not acting like an idiot." And without looking back, she walked away from him. Not until he was well out of sight and earshot did she rest against a corridor wall and close her eyes.

John had told her about his little future hop with Batman and what, or rather whom, he'd seen. He'd told her it didn't matter, it wasn't a real future, just one possibility. If she hadn't spent the last two years picking up on his tells, she might've believed him.

Her head hurt, and the founders' private conference room was just a few doors down. It wouldn't be occupied for at least an hour; John had come up here early for a meeting, and Mari was just getting off-shift.

She went inside.

The lights brightened automatically in reaction to her presence. She went to sit at the table, and stopped herself. That table was magic in its way. Decisions that changed the world were made there. Plenty of arguments, too. That table meant responsibility, and power, and yes, justice. Admittedly, the majestic effect was spoiled by a pile of unread mail stacked at one end. The mail guys brought up fan letters sometimes, business proposals, marriage proposals, treaties, referendums.

They didn't have assigned chairs, but she knew the two of them sat together more often than not. It shouldn't bother her, but it did, and if John was going to be upset over what was really just a nice gesture on Mr. Wayne's part, then Mari could spare a few minutes to be angry right back.

There was a small package, coming open at one end. Probably had been opened and inspected already by the staff, she figured. Curiosity getting the better of her, she nudged the package the rest of the way open.

It was a book. Hardback, cheap but well-wearing yellow binding, with the gold-lettered title and author's name both too faded to make out. Mari flipped the cover open, idly glancing at the text.

And died.

Chapter One

Despite being the fastest man alive, Wally had a bad habit of being late for meetings. It wasn't his fault, not all the time. But sometimes he had the munchies, or he had to go, or someone stopped him in the corridor knowing the Flash was the friendliest member of the founding seven, and ...

Not his fault. Totally not. Well, not usually.

Anyway, GL had yelled at him, which was pretty typical, and then Superman had yelled at him, which had sucked, so now Wally was making an effort.

He arrived a good ten minutes before the meeting was due to start, ducked into the conference room long enough for the lights to activate and to see that nobody was there yet, and dashed back to the cafeteria. Ten minutes was more than enough time to grab coffee for everybody, and then he wouldn't only be on time, he'd be on time with caffeine to hand out.

It was like the rest of his superheroing, only this time he was saving the world with half-and-half and sugar.

John had just reached the conference room as Wally got back. "Hey, GL. Coffee?" He set down the tray before he spilled and earned another lecture about Why We Don't Make Life Difficult For The Cleaning Staff.

"Thanks," John managed, the grouchy look on his face not appeased by the Coffee Fairy. Wally privately decided to feed John two more coffees at least before he got anywhere near the rest of the League.

"You okay, buddy?" A second later, he realized that John probably didn't want to talk about whatever it was and more importantly, that Wally really didn't want to know anyway.

"It's fine." John let out something between a grumble and a snort. "Mari's meeting with Bruce later to discuss some investments."

"Well, that's kinda cool." Wally figured all the rich people everywhere knew each other, and hey, as long as none of them minded when he borrowed a few bucks now and then, he was a-okay with them all.

"She doesn't know who he is."

"Oh. You mean ... " Wally put his index fingers on the sides of his head sticking up like bat ears. John nodded. "So just tell her."

"Not my secret. And Bruce probably won't say anything. You know how he is."


"So he's going to be in his usual secret identity thing, wining and dining her, and laughing at her for not knowing, and I can't tell her."

"He wouldn't do that."

John shrugged. "Maybe." The door opened, and Superman came in with J'onn. Shayera got there a few minutes later, and pointedly didn't say anything to John or sit next to him, but then, they'd been fighting on and off ever since that Shadow Thief guy had turned out to be Hawkman. Wally did get a smile out of her with some coffee, though. Bats and Diana arrived together and last, and no way Wally was going to comment on that (mainly because the last time he had, Diana had told him to drop it and threatened to break his arms).

The coffee was good --- he'd had three shots of chocolate put into his on top of his sugars --- and he noticed the others begin to perk up a little as they fed their favorite group addiction. He drained the last of his and then looked around for something to do while he waited for the meeting to start. Batman had started to leave puzzles in the corner of the room for Wally to play with, mainly to keep him quiet for a few minutes, but a quick check showed him he'd done all of those already.

Hello, fanmail. He'd been the one to ask the mail clerks to bring the good stuff up here. Nothing said, "Please don't become fascist overlords" quite like reading letters from third graders saying: "I want to be just like you when I grow up."

Today's haul included a book. Wally opened it, betting himself he could read the whole thing before Batman finished his coffee.

"What's that?" Shayera asked, craning over his shoulder, and Wally opened the cover to read the title.

"The Cuckoo at Midnight," he said, and flipped to the first page. "'It was a dark and stormy night.'"


It was, in fact, a dark and stormy night.

Wally knew this because it was dark and he heard thunder, and then a loud clatter that was distinctly unthundery. Then the lights came back on and he heard screams, and that was much, much worse.

Vixen was dead on the floor. A few feet away from her, a gun slowly rotated on the floor as if it had been dropped, or thrown.

His brain froze and then unfroze and he ran to her side, or tried. Everything was wrong; he felt wrong, couldn't get his speed working, and he was ...

He was clearly not on the Watchtower. That was the first thing he latched onto. He was in a crowd of rather well if peculiarly dressed people, in what looked like a mansion. It might've been Bats' place, though he didn’t remember that being so big. Thunder still grumbled outside the enormous windows, and Wally couldn't run and there was no way anyone alive looked like that.

God, and John was down there with her, leaning over her in horror as Bruce --- not in the Batsuit, not looming and scary but instead in a white tux --- looked as shocked and scared as Wally felt, pushing past the stupid people who stood around with their mouths open, and seeing Bats scared made it all ten times worse.


John shook his head, trying to clear it. He'd been sitting at his chair in the conference room, and then it was dark, and now ...

"Mari!" He was on his knees and didn't realize it, holding her hand, touching her face, trying to get her to respond, knowing she wouldn't. This wasn't possible. This had to be some dream. Still he tried to wake her. "Come on. Mari, don't do this." He could feel the crazy babble start and stilled it. "For God's sake, somebody call an ambulance!"

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked back. Wally. Behind him, Shayera was walking towards them slowly, dressed in a blue dress he'd never seen her wear, her expression confused and frightened, edging to angry. Something else was out of place about her.

Dress. John looked down, saw he was in a uniform but not his Lantern Corp uniform. Wally was in a bad tux, Bruce stood beside him in a white tux, a coifed and young-looking redhead clutching his arm. This was all wrong.

Diana came over to Mari's other side, touching her hand and then muttering a quick prayer. She wore a red gown, and her hair was pulled back oddly, and was he really paying attention to everyone's clothes when Mari was dead on the floor beside him?

An older woman, clutching a battered black leather bag, pushed Diana aside and began examining Mari. She let out a breath a moment later. "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do," she said, and closed Mari's staring eyes.

"Oh, Bruce!" said the redhead in a simpering voice. "This is awful!"

Bruce disentangled his arm from hers and looked at her strangely. "Barbara?"


Bruce opened his mouth, then closed it, staring past her into the crowd. John closed his eyes. The pain and grief would come very soon, and he wanted to cling to the numbness as long as he could.

"This isn't real," said Bruce in a low, Bat-voice.

"Looks pretty real to me," said Barbara.

Bruce asked quietly, "Who here was at a meeting just a minute ago?"

John looked up and nodded. Wally raised his hand. Shayera and Diana both came forward, just as Clark and J'onn --- looking more forlorn than usual in his most current human form --- reached them.

"Barbara, Leslie, where were you just now?"

"I was right here," said the redhead.

"Upstairs," said the old woman.

"And you didn't notice anything ... unusual?"

"There's a dead woman on your floor, Bruce. I'd call that pretty strange."

Outside, John heard sirens. How'd they arrive so fast? Bruce said, "Leslie, please take Barbara upstairs and give her something to calm her nerves."

The two women walked away as the large crowd, starting to murmur again, began to press in.

"I don't know what's happening," said Bruce quickly. "But I know this isn't real, and I think the seven of us are the only ones who know it."

"How do you know that?" asked Clark, glancing behind them.

"You have to be sure," John said, knowing he sounded desperate and not caring.

"I'm sure. I just saw two dead people walk by."


Dead. Joker and Harley were dead. He'd buried Joker with his own hands, and Barbara --- the real Barbara, not this hollow mimic --- claimed to have watched Quinn fall to her death.

Yet across the room, he'd seen them both. Joker, not scarred by his run-in with the chemicals that had changed everything for him. Napier. By his side, Harleen with a big smile, blonde hair, and a little pink dress that favored those who had no imagination.

So this wasn't real.

Alfred, or someone who looked like Alfred, was at the door with two police officers. More sirens blared from outside. Whatever the reason they'd arrived so quickly, Bruce needed to stall them, charm them, something. He had no doubts that whoever'd killed Vixen was arranging all this, and winding up in an unreal jail cell was not going to help him figure how they were going to get out of this mess.

"Officers!" he said, with a worried smile. "You're just in time. Someone's been shot."

"We heard," said the larger one. Bullock. Clearly, someone was pulling things from Bruce's own mind, but who? Jervis Tetch was in prison, Doctor Destiny was dead. And the seven of them were together; not a bright move on the part of their captors.

"We want statements from everyone," said the smaller cop. "Who saw what?"

Bruce spread his hands, thinking at J'onn: Get the others back. "I don't think you're going to have any luck there, officers. The lights were out. No one saw a thing." He glanced around, seeing nods of assent from the partygoers. He recognized most of them: socialites from his one life, unmasked superheroes from the other.

"We'll see about that," Bullock said, pushing him with a rough finger. "We've known you were dirty for a long time, Wayne. I hope they nail you for this one."

"Harvey," said Barbara, coming back down the stairs, "don't you yell at Brucie like that. He had nothing to do with it."

Police and emergency personnel filtered into the room with an old-looking stretcher. They would start snapping photographs of the crime scene, and asking questions Bruce couldn't answer.

Maybe J'onn heard him, because he collapsed with a loud moan.


Clark was closest when J'onn fell, and sped over to keep him from cracking his head on the floor. Tried speeding. Come to think of it, he wasn't feeling so good, either.

"J'onn," he said through clenched teeth. "What's wrong?"

"Can't feel. Nothing there." He moaned softly, his arm weakly rubbing his head.

Clark switched to x-ray vision to check for any internal injuries. Tried to switch.

"Powers," he whispered, and J'onn nodded.

"What's wrong with him?" asked the fat cop.

"Nervous collapse," said Diana, leaning down to help. "Give him some air!"

Bruce's little red-haired date glanced at him. "Guess he's upset the gravy train just left the station, huh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked John. The emergency folks had tried pushing him aside to look at Vixen, but he was having nothing to do with that plan.

The redhead snorted. "Everybody knows Jones has been skimming from Vix's accounts."

"Do tell," said the skinny cop, opening a pad of paper.

"We have to get out of here and regroup," Clark said to Diana quietly. "Check to see if you still have your powers."


He nodded. She sighed, then reached down and placed her hand on the floor, squeezing the floor tiles by her feet. Normally, Diana could dent them easily. Nothing. Her eyes widened.

"But as you can see," Bruce said loudly, "there's really nothing more I can tell you without talking to my attorney first."

"That's right," said Clark, picking up on the plan. "I think I really should consult my lawyer, too."

"I don't speak to lawyers," Diana whispered.

"You do now," Clark chided.

"I, too, must see my lawyer before remarking further on this matter," she said, glaring at him.

"In fact," Bruce said, "I think I can safely speak for everyone in this room when I say, you'll be talking to half the legal professionals in the city by tomorrow."

"You don't get to lawyer up now, Wayne," snarled the fat cop. "No weasling out. That isn't another no-name hooker dead over there, that's the biggest star in Los Diablos!"

"You don't think I know that?" Bruce asked calmly, which was a good trick because Clark was positive Bruce actually had no more idea of what the cop meant than Clark did.

"The press will be all over this. Bottom-feeders like Kent here are just the start."

Clark narrowed his eyes.

Bruce waved his hand idly. "Let them come. In the meantime, do what you have to and then get out of my house."

"Yeah!" said the redhead.

The fat cop snorted at her. "Your daddy know where you are tonight, sweetheart?"

"He knows."

The skinny cop closed his pad of paper and looked around. "Hey, Baker!" A deputy with a camera came over.


"Make sure you get pictures of everyone in the crowd, capiche?"

"Sure thing."

He nodded towards Shayera. "Start with the stool pigeon."

Clark saw Shayera stiffen and frown just before Baker snapped a photo. She hadn't said anything since this craziness had started, which was probably her best option. He thought to himself that things had worked out well for her, considering.

"Barbara," Bruce said, scraping her off his arm again. "Please see to our guests. I'd like to have a word with the people here."

"Getting your stories straight?" asked the fat cop.

"Detective, if you're going to arrest us, do so. If not, get your work done and get out of my house." He nodded to the rest of them. "If you'll join me in the study."

Diana and Clark helped J'onn slowly to his feet. John stayed beside Vixen's still form. "No."

"You can't help her here," Shayera said in a strained voice. Clark focused on her and realized what was wrong.

"If they take her away, I might not be able to find her again."

Bruce said, "We'll come back before they take her away. I promise."

Alfred had already opened the study for them and had even lit a small fire in the grate to dispel the damp cold. As soon as the doors were shut, Bruce said, "Joker and Harley. They were in the crowd. And I know they're dead."

Clark inhaled sharply. Bruce had only told him the sketchiest details of what had happened when they'd found Tim. He didn't doubt Bruce's words.

"But that's great!" said Wally cheerfully. "This is all some dream or illusion, and we just have to figure out how to get out of it.

Bruce walked to a bookshelf and picked out a volume. He opened it, skimmed it, and put it back. "Not a dream."

"You're sure?" asked Diana.

"I'm sure."

Clark touched J'onn's shoulder. "How are you?"

"Everything is strange. I can't sense any of you, nor can I sense anyone or anything else." He closed his eyes. "I can't change my shape."

"I can't speed," Wally said.

Diana shrugged. "My powers are gone as well." Clark nodded.

John looked down at his right hand, which was bare as expected. On his left hand was a wide gold band.


For the first time, the others noticed what Clark had realized earlier. "I'm fine," she said in a stilted voice that indicated she was no such thing. Without the wings, she looked smaller. Whoever had done this to them had gone to a lot of trouble to make everyone appear human. Something to keep in mind.

Bruce sighed. "All right. Assets. First, we know who we are, and we know we're here together. Second, no one else has caught on to the switch. Third, our names are the same, and we seem to be in counterpart roles to our real-world identities."

"Fourth, you've got me."

Clark turned. Zatanna stood by the door.

"I'm sorry," said Bruce. "This is a closed meeting."

Zatanna smiled. "And I'm glad. It would have been pretty awkward if I'd tried contacting you in front of other people. Batman."

Bruce glared at her, but Clark saw the relief he had almost perfectly disguised.

"Dr. Fate and I are trying to figure out how to get you out of here."

"Where is 'here'?" Shayera asked.

"The seven of you have been trapped in a magical artifact, a book that was supposed to be delivered to me. It's quasi-dimensional, so Fate opened a walk-through for me, though it won't work for you. Sorry. We've quarantined the book, and we're looking for spells to extract you. Just sit tight and don't get hurt."

"Why not?" asked Wally. "This isn't real. You just said."

"No, I said you're trapped in a magical artifact. It's real. This particular spell makes its reality out of what's in the minds of the people it sucks in."

"How do we get out?" Diana asked.

"If we can reverse-engineer the spell, we pull you out from the story. If we can't, you're stuck here until you play out the plot. We're going to try for the first option. But again, don't get hurt. We'll be pulling you out from wherever you are in the plot. If you've lost an arm or an eye when we get you out, it will become a part of your permanent reality."

John asked, "What about if you're killed?"

Zatanna frowned. "Don't get killed."

Bruce said, "I need you to check something. Locate Vixen. Use her comm, use anything. Find her and make sure of her location. Then locate all other active and reserve League members."


"Just do it."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Hold on." She vanished in a pink-purple flash. Moments later, she reappeared. "Okay, we can locate everyone but Vixen. Tell me this isn't bad."

Wally placed a hand on John's shoulder as Bruce said, "It's bad."

Zatanna looked at John, and she didn't ask. "All right, plan B. If you finish the plot, you should all be reset to the beginning, including Vixen."

"'Should?'" said John.

"How sure are you on that?" Wally asked.

"Not very. I'm sorry," she said to John. "That's why I was having the book delivered to me, so I could examine it safely. Fate and I will tinker with the spell, see if we can get a confirmation on that."

Shayera said, "Just tell us what we have to do."

"Well, you're in a mystery novel. Find the clues and solve the mystery. Like Bruce said, you'll have roles somewhat like your real life counterparts. One of your characters is probably a detective. That'll be the person who has to figure it out."

Diana asked, "And if we don't?"

Zatanna tapped her fingers against her leg. "Best case, you all stay here for the rest of your lives. Worst case, when the story ends, so do you. I don't know all the terms of the spell yet, but the research I've got on it so far says it's a puzzle trap. Figure out the puzzle. Fate and I will be on our end trying to find another way out just in case." She vanished again, this time for good.

"Everyone turn out your pockets," Bruce said. "Look for identification. The more we know about who we're supposed to be, the better a chance we'll have of solving this."

Neither of the women had pockets, but Clark found a driver's license and a press pass in his jacket. Same name, bad picture but it was definitely him. Also a gold-trimmed invitation to a gala event, hosted by Bruce Wayne in honor of Mari Macabe. With the invitation, a terse handwritten note: "Kent. After tonight, we have nothing more to say to each other. M." Clark had seen Vixen's handwriting on dozens of reports; if this wasn't from her, someone had gone through a great deal of effort to mimic her style. But what did it mean?

Bottom-feeder. The name stung, more than he wanted to think about right now. What kind of man was he in this crazy world?


Wally dug through his pockets. Candy wrappers, keys, a pencil stub with a broken lead, a grubby party invitation, and a business card.

Wally West, Private Investigator

"I'm the detective!" he announced cheerfully. This was great! The P.I. always got the best part, always got the most action, always got the girl. Score!

Bats grabbed the card from his hand and examined it closely. With a tightly-controlled expression, he handed it back and gave a sharp nod.

"We're doomed," said Shayera.

Wally resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at her. "At least I don't have to lie about being a detective."

Shayera balled up her hands into fists, right as J'onn's arm shot out between the two of them. "Enough."

"We need to figure out who killed Mari," John said. His voice was level as he said it, making Wally wonder how much he was holding back, and also making him feel guilty for thinking he was going to enjoy this. He met Shayera's eyes, and they both mumbled what was probably an apology.

"Bruce," Diana said. "You're the World's Greatest Detective. Where do we start?"

"Narrow down the list of suspects. Find out who had a motive. Trace the weapon. Eliminate everyone who couldn't have killed her. I'd prefer we all stay together, but we won't find anything out that way. Go home tonight. Find out who you are, or at least who you're supposed to be. It'd be helpful if we could at least find alibis for everyone in this room."

"But none of us killed her," said Shayera. Little too defensive there, Wally thought.

"We don't know that. I don't know that I didn't kill her. Find out. Eliminate yourselves as suspects tonight, and tomorrow we'll see who's left."

Just then, Alfred opened the door to the study. "Sir, I'm afraid the police are most insistent that you rejoin their company." He held the door as they filed out.

Bruce was last to leave. Wally heard him tell Alfred, "My friends are in shock. I'd like you to make sure they're seen home safely."

"Of course, sir."

Wally caught up with John. "Are you gonna be okay, man?"

"Yeah." But his eyes were focused on the sheet-covered form still on the floor. The police had cordoned off the area, were examining the gun for prints, but had left Vixen alone for now.

"It's not her, John."

"It is her. And you're the one who has to save her." John turned and stared hard at Wally. Wally'd always thought his friend was scary when he did the pissed-off-glowing-green-eyes thing, but this was completely different. GL wasn't yelling at him like a numbskull rookie; he was pleading with him as a friend.

"I will. We will. Trust me."

He put a friendly hand on GL's shoulder, and finally noticed what his brain had told him and forgotten already: he was wearing gloves. They all were, from the slinky gloves that matched the girls' dresses, to the pristine white gloves on Bats' butler. So when the cop dusting for prints stood up and told his superior in a stage whisper that there weren't any fingerprints on the gun, Wally just nodded, knowing this was going to be a little harder than he'd thought.

To be continued
Jordan Mannmannoftalent on January 15th, 2007 05:26 pm (UTC)
Fabulous. One small nitpick. I don't see anything explaining what J'onn looks like. Clearly not Martian, but...
Merlin Missy: Little Green OTPmtgat on January 15th, 2007 05:46 pm (UTC)
"his most current human form"

Have you seen "Destroyer" yet? If not, you wanna? :)

Jordan Mannmannoftalent on January 16th, 2007 03:50 pm (UTC)
Is this the older Chinese Man form? Because you are so going to end up with Charlie Chan jokes if you're not careful :-)
mtgat and dotfic: Flash By Northwestdot_merlin on January 16th, 2007 03:54 pm (UTC)
That would be him. :) And no, what we've got instead is the gentleman who looks Asian but has the incongruously French-sounding name.
getting the chocolate in the peanut butter: Flash: hero in progressdotfic on January 15th, 2007 10:00 pm (UTC)
Hee! First comment! It's like you broke a champage bottle over the fic. *g*
(Deleted comment)
Merlin Missy: Flashmtgat on January 15th, 2007 07:47 pm (UTC)
Although even in a fake situation a simpering Barbara makes me twitch.

Us, too. Which made it that much more fun to write. ;)
getting the chocolate in the peanut butter: Flash: hero in progressdotfic on January 15th, 2007 10:01 pm (UTC)
If it made you twitch, we did our job right. *g*

Wally is *fun*.
Chris: Blushing Bruce90scartoonman on January 15th, 2007 07:40 pm (UTC)
I wonder how convinced Bats is that Harley is dead. He's sure Joker is dead, though, so that's proof enough. I like Bruce checking the book to see if it's a dream.
Merlin Missy: Timmymtgat on January 15th, 2007 07:49 pm (UTC)
Even if he isn't as sure as he claims, yeah, Joker's toast. And we couldn't resist the PtD shout-out.
getting the chocolate in the peanut butterdotfic on January 15th, 2007 10:03 pm (UTC)
Bats only has Batgirl's word to go on, but he'd have no reason to doubt. We think he thinks she's dead. And like mtgat said, The Joker is definitely most sincerely dead.
inquisitively: jlu. wally. life is just so good.inquisitively on January 15th, 2007 07:52 pm (UTC)
*chortles with glee* ;)
Merlin Missy: Timmymtgat on January 15th, 2007 07:53 pm (UTC)
*grins evilly*
inquisitively: jlu. wally. life is just so good.inquisitively on January 15th, 2007 07:55 pm (UTC)
That icon is so damn APPROPRIATE.
getting the chocolate in the peanut butterdotfic on January 15th, 2007 10:04 pm (UTC)
Mwahahahaha. :D
allaine77: Bridesmaidallaine77 on January 15th, 2007 09:04 pm (UTC)
At this point in my life I tend to avoid JLU-based fanfic, especially from the last two seasons, but I also tend to make time for either of your works, so . . .


So far I like it. I do think it's a bit reminiscent of a ST:NG episode, but it's interesting. Obviously some of the characters are playing more "ethically dubious" versions of themselves, although I wonder - is that the function of the spell, or did the book merely plug the various heroes into the character role to which they bear the most superficial resemblance (i.e. Clark Kent becoming what at first sounds like a tabloid journalist)?

Another surprise is that they seem to find themselves in Gotham, even though it was Flash who opened the book and read the first line. Not that I MIND, of course - I'm curious to see how many other people from Bruce's life show up. (Pammy?)

And of course, I think to myself, "Did Barbara just call him 'Brucie'?"

I liked the brief nod to B:TAS' Perchance to Dream.

Sincerely, Allaine
Merlin Missy: Fetish Nightmtgat on January 15th, 2007 09:18 pm (UTC)
amilyn refers to this as our "Holodeck malfunction story" so the TNG vibe isn't far off the mark. ;) The story is not set in Gotham, but Los Diablos (for we are not that creative, sorry). As for the rest, keep reading!
getting the chocolate in the peanut butterdotfic on January 15th, 2007 10:07 pm (UTC)
Yep, it's a malfunctioning holodeck story. As for the roles...ask again at the end. :)

Thanks for reading!

Matt Zimmermattzimmer on January 15th, 2007 09:40 pm (UTC)
This is probably the best set-up to a story I've ever seen from you two. I don't read your fics as much as I should but i'm definately going to keep up with this one. It's great so far.
Merlin Missy: Big Scary Freakmtgat on January 15th, 2007 09:42 pm (UTC)
Yay! Glad you're liking it!
getting the chocolate in the peanut butter: Flash: hero in progressdotfic on January 15th, 2007 10:08 pm (UTC)
Glad you liked the setup, I'm glad you'll be following along with this one. :)
amylee3000amylee3000 on January 15th, 2007 10:03 pm (UTC)
Oh wow I'm really enjoying this. I can't wait to see where it goes. Why 'stool pigeon' and 'bottom-feeder' cracked me up so bad I don't know but I love what you've got so far.
getting the chocolate in the peanut butter: Flash: hero in progressdotfic on January 15th, 2007 10:10 pm (UTC)
Thanks very much!

Maybe it's because it's period slang? On the show we're used to them speaking regular modern slang (ironically, some of these characters were first created a bit before the time period we set this in. For Bruce and Clark, it was throwing back to their heyday as characters anyway).
Merlin Missy: HG Vx Rose & Pearlmtgat on January 15th, 2007 11:28 pm (UTC)
Hooray for cracking you up! :D
Kiraava_cabot on January 15th, 2007 11:07 pm (UTC)
"I'm the detective!" he announced cheerfully. This was great! The P.I. always got the best part, always got the most action, always got the girl. Score!"

"We're doomed," said Shayera.

Seriously the most hilarious part. *falls out of chair*
Merlin Missy: Flashmtgat on January 15th, 2007 11:30 pm (UTC)
*grin* We're so glad you liked it!
getting the chocolate in the peanut butter: Flash: hero in progressdotfic on January 16th, 2007 01:49 am (UTC)
Hee. Thanks!
madripoor_rosemadripoor_rose on February 2nd, 2007 04:49 pm (UTC)
Wow. I thought long plotty stories went out with the yahoogroups lists. This was an amazing piece of writing, loved the various film noir/pulp detective cliches and the spin of having characters we know and love play out the stereotypes that represent their own worst fears. Great story.
Merlin Missy: Sharkbaitmtgat on February 2nd, 2007 04:55 pm (UTC)
What can we say? We're throwbacks. ;)

So glad you enjoyed the read, adn thanks for the comments!
getting the chocolate in the peanut butterdotfic on February 3rd, 2007 10:27 pm (UTC)
Sometimes we like to do it old skool :)

Thank you, we're so glad you're reading, and that you enjoyed the noir aspect of this.