“THIS IS THE LAST STRAW!” Superman roared, his eyes glowing red in anger and annoyance. His magnificent scarlet cape flapped in a miraculous defiance of gravity, but no one was remotely surprised.
“What did he do now?” Wonder Woman asked, pausing her game of jump rope (and of course, she had to use the Lasso of Truth). “Run over your toe with the Batmobile?”
“Scratch your suit with his Batarangs?” Green Arrow suggested from the couch.
“Make a file about how to incapacitate the entire Justice League?” Flash piped up. Everyone gave him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, that’s just ridiculous.”
“Don’t be inane,” Clark Kent replied angrily. “I was looking through his files—”
“Diary,” Oliver Queen coughed, covering his mouth with a gloved hand. Superman shot him a glare that could cut through metal. Not literally, of course.
“Why are you all wearing your costumes?” Clark asked curiously. Diana shrugged, curling her whip onto her belt.
“We always wear them around the base,” she said. “It makes us look cool. You’re wearing it too.”
Superman glanced down at his bright blue uniform. “Oh. Anyway, you will not believe what Batman did!”
“With that man, I will believe anything,” Barry Allen replied with a smirk. “Let me guess, he and Lois—”
“NO!” Clark cut it in. “He made finger paintings of ALL of us!”
The rest of them blinked. Green Arrow cleared his throat tentatively. “He…what?”
“Look at these!” Superman roared, tossing the artwork on the floor. Sure enough, there was a collection of brightly colored fingerprint drawings of every member of the Justice League.
“Look at that!” Flash cackled, pointing at one of the paintings. “Arsenal’s smoking it up! Is that china cat?”
“Hey look, he’s got a picture of you dead!” Green Arrow chirped to Superman. “This is priceless!”
“I find this disturbing,” Diana sniffed, crumpling up an unflattering picture of herself and Clark. “We definitely should confront him.”
“Oh yeah, good idea,” Green Arrow said. “That can’t go wrong in anyway. I mean, it’s not like he’s prepared to beat all of us into the ground with his super-gadgets and stuff.”
“Was that sarcasm?” Clark asked him suspiciously. Oliver blinked.
“BRUCE!” Superman roared, bursting through the doors of Wayne Manor. “BATMAN! Where are you?”
“Oh dear, oh my,” Alfred cried, straightening his tie while trying to balance a tray of nachos. “Is there a problem, Master Superman?”
“Where. Is. Batman?” Clark growled, letting his cape fly around like a demented bed sheet. Alfred simply sniffed, unimpressed.
“Master Wayne is down in the Batcave. I don’t know why he spends so much time around ruffians such as yourself, but I must say, sir, I am not impressed.”
“Save it for another time, Alfie,” Superman snapped. “I’ve got a Bat to catch.”
“Oh dear,” Alfred said again. Making a split-second decision to save his employer’s life, the aged butler swung his tray into the back of the Man of Steel’s skull. Clark Kent fell to the floor with a crack.
“How did you do that?” Flash asked as he and the others strolled into the mansion. Alfred raised an eyebrow.
“Master Wayne always likes to eat my homemade Kryptonite Crunchies before going on patrol. I thought it might work,” he replied, kneeling to clean up the spilled food.
“Wait…” Wonder Woman raised her hand like she was directing traffic, or perhaps asking permission to speak. “Bruce eats Kryptonite?”
“Of course he does, don’t be ridiculous,” Alfred snapped, losing his patience. “You think any man could go toe-to-toe with the Man of Steel and walk away?”
“That is a good point,” Green Arrow nodded. “So where’s Batman?”
“Right here,” came a gravelly voice from above. Then the room was plunged into darkness.
“Oh, stop being over-dramatic,” Flash sighed. In a—well, flash—he sped to the light switch and flicked it on before speeding back. Batman stood in the middle of the room, frozen in the act of tiptoeing over to the comatose Superman.
“What are you guys doing here?” he asked in a growly voice, trying to still look cool. The rest of the Justice League shrugged and scuffed the floor with their super-boots.
“We came to confront you about your paintings,” Wonder Woman finally answered, crossing her arms. Batman scratched his cowl.
“What…what paintings? I totally have no idea what you mean, guys,” Batman replied, mirroring her stance. With a roll of her eyes, Princess Diana swung her Lasso of Truth around Batman. He wouldn’t be able to lie with the magical whip around him.
“If you’re trying to make a point, I don’t do finger-painting,” Bruce said, yawning. Superman shot up from unconsciousness.
“His fingers are crossed behind his back!” Clark tattled, pointing. “And I used my super-vision! Your fingerprints totally match!”
“Yeah, and how did you know they were finger paintings?” Green Arrow added suspiciously. Flash nodded in agreement.
“What? I totally didn’t say that!” Batman said. “And my fingers are not crossed!”
“Yes they are, sir,” Alfred interjected, patting his suit down nervously.
“How does that even work?” Wonder Woman mumbled, staring at her rope. “Nobody’s ever tried crossing their fingers before…”
“You liar! You painter!” Superman shrieked, stamping his foot through the marble floor. “You lying painter!”
“Hey, this detective stuff is awesome!” Flash high-fived Green Arrow.
“Infinite Mass High Five, much?” Oliver winced, rubbing his palm.
“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” Batman insisted. Alfred coughed politely.
“Fingers still crossed.”
“I caught you with my super-vision!” Superman sang. “I caught you with my super-vision!”
“You couldn’t live without supervision!” Bruce Wayne retorted.
“How about everyone calms down,” Doctor Arkham yelled. “And we can talk about this?”
“Hey! How do you know my secret identity?” Batman squealed. Superman flinched at the high-pitched noise.
“How did you get here, anyway?” Wonder Woman asked suspiciously, fingering her shield.
“…You brought me with you,” the psychologist replied.
Bruce Wayne stifled a sob. The entire group was seated in the Wayne living room. Superman was actually hovering in the air, Wonder Woman was reclining in a comfy chair, and Green Arrow and Flash awkwardly shared a loveseat. Batman himself was laying on the long couch while Dr. Arkham furiously scribbled down notes.
“It’s just…” Batman sniffled. “Ever since mommy and daddy died, I’m always sad and angry inside.”
“I’m sorry, did you say sad and angry?” Dr. Arkham interrupted. “Not one, but both?”
“Yeah. I always fight bad guys, but I can only hit them,” Bruce continued. “And hitting is kinda fun, but it doesn’t let me really express myself. And painting does!”
“I see,” Arkham mumbled, jotting down half a page of observations. “Please, continue.”
“You know, I can’t kill,” Batman sighed. “I know it’s good and stuff, but I have to let it out somehow. So I paint pictures!”
“With your darn fingers,” Superman deadpanned, rolling his eyes. Batman shot up, eyes blazing.
“Hey! Don’t swear at me in Boy-Scout!” he bellowed. “You gosh-dang pimple-popper!”
“Did you just…?” Clark gaped at Bruce in shock, before blasting at him with his lazer eyes.
“Oooh snap!” Green Arrow whooped. “It’s a superhero fight!”
“Infinite Mass Slap!” Flash cheered, smacking Diana through the west wing. Green Arrow notched a…green arrow and launched it at Clark, causing him to fall to his knees.
“It is on!” Batman roared, remotely activating his Batmobile to drive it straight at Oliver.
“Oh me! Oh my!” Dr. Arkham gulped, wriggling under the loveseat. Alfred sighed, rubbing his balding head.
“Batcomputer, activate Security Level Gamma,” the old butler dictated into his phone. “How to incapacitate the Justice League. Codename Babel.”
This is the most ridiculous, insane fic that I have ever written. It is not a part of any series or continuity. I can only hope it doesn’t permanently stain my name as a DC comics blogger. 😛