“So, you don’t know about A.R.G.U.S.?” Rex asked, nervously.
“Is this a prank call?” Trump asked.
“Oh darn. You got me Mister President,” Rex smiled.
“I’m just too smart,” Trump said.
“Yes you are,” Rex nodded, lying through his teeth. He hung up the phone.
“So we’re in the clear?” Bruce asked. Rex nodded, relieved.
“What a great plan,” Floyd said, “Thanks for the bright idea Batman.”
“That was you,” Bruce said.
“I don’t seem to remember that,” Floyd frowned. He strode out of the ruined church.
“How did you survive with him?” Bruce asked.
“I’m only dead on the inside,” Rex sighed, walking after Floyd. Bruce walked out with them. Suddenly, a black jet zipped by overhead, and circled around to land next to them. The A.R.G.U.S. Jet. The cockpit flipped up, and the pilot waved.
“I saw that you brought down the house!” the pilot joked.
“Something like that,” Bruce nodded, jogging over.
“Who’s blondie?” the pilot asked.
“Just another captive. We need to contact to Amanda Waller immediately. She has to send a jet to catch a plane carrying the drugs they were working on.”
“This jet doesn’t have communication lines. We don’t want anyone picking up our presence,” the pilot explained. Then he looked at the small crowd of citizens that had gathered around them, and smirked.
“Well maybe we can catch the plane. It’s headed to Brazil. How fast can this jet go?” Bruce asked.
“Pretty damn fast,” the pilot smiled, “But my orders were to report directly back to the base. No pit stops.”
“Alright fine. Floyd, Rex, come on!” Bruce waved the captives on. Floyd and Rex came over.
“Sorry, we can’t take blondie,” the pilot said, “Just you and Mister Floyd Lawton here.”
“Oh, alright,” Bruce sighed, “Sorry Rex.”
Rex looked down, devastated. He had no idea how he was going to get back to America. Floyd and Bruce climbed into the cockpit. It was cramped, but they made it work. Then, Bruce grabbed the pilot by the back of the head, and slammed his face against the controls. Blood sprayed over the different levers and buttons, and the pilot screamed, holding his face. Bruce then elbowed him in the neck, and he immediately blacked out.
“Climb in Rex,” Bruce said.
Rex smiled, and clambered into the cockpit. Bruce thumbed the steering yoke, trying to remember how to fly a jet. Surely he had flown one before. He was a billionaire playboy after all. He jabbed an orange button, and the cockpit cover slammed down, and sealed shut. He eased on a lever, and began to taxi the jet. He grinned, and thrust it all the way forward. They shot down the street, and Bruce yanked back on the yoke. The jet blasted off of the ground with a screech. Bruce flipped the yoke around, the jet did a barrell roll.
“Hell yeah!” Floyd cheered, “This is flying!”
Bruce smiled silently. Rex’s face was ghastly pale, but he forced a smile.
The jet was soaring over the icy terrain, and Bruce looked for a GPS. There wasn’t one anywhere. Probably the whole anti-tacking initiative the pilot had talked about.
“Hey, check it out!” Floyd said, putting on the pilot’s helmet, “The mask is glowing.”
“What is it displaying?” Bruce asked.
“Looks like a map,” Floyd shrugged.
“GPS?” Rex suggested.
“Sure,” Floyd said, “It’s whatever you want it to be.”
“What is it really?” Bruce asked, losing patience with Floyd.
“A GPS,” Floyd said, “For real.”
“Give it to me,” Bruce ordered.
“It’s mine,” Floyd argued, “I stole it from the pilot.”
“Well I’m the pilot,” Bruce said, “So hand it over.”
“Why don’t you make me?” Floyd smirked.
“I’ve got this,” Rex said. He still had his enhanced abilities thanks to the Miraclo he had taken. It lasted for an hour. He slammed Floyd against the back of the cockpit, and yanked the helmet off of his head. Floyd groaned, and clutched the part of his chest that Rex had hit.
“Here you go captain,” Rex smiled, handing Bruce the helmet. Bruce put it on, and got his bearings. They were almost to the Atlantic.
“Boy Scout,” Floyd complained.
“Eagle Scout, actually,” Rex corrected.
“Even better,” Floyd said.
“Jeez, this jet is fast,” Bruce mused, seeing the radar on the helmet zip by. They were already zooming over the ocean.
“At this rate, we’ll catch the plane with the drugs in no time,” Rex smiled.
“And then it’ll turn out to be the wrong plane,” Floyd added.
“Do you ever stop?” Bruce asked.
“Nope.”
“I can confirm that he does not,” Rex sighed.
“Well, just hold it in for now,” Bruce said.
“Or what Batman?” Floyd asked.
“Or so help me God I will fling you out of this jet,” Bruce said.
“Bet,” Floyd said, sticking out his hand. Bruce grabbed it, and squeezed it as hard as he could. There was a snap, and Floyd shrieked.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Floyd cried, yanking his hand back.
“Relax,” Bruce grinned, “I only broke one of your fingers.”
“You’re a freak,” Floyd said, crinkling his nose.
“I get that a lot,” Bruce said. Rex was trying to hold in a laugh.
“I’m really glad we got to have this bonding experience,” Rex snickered.
“Me too,” Bruce said.
“Thanks for teaming up on me, pals,” Floyd complained.
Bruce just continued flying the jet in silence. Floyd didn’t say another word.
After an hour of tranquility, Floyd jumped up, hitting his head.
“Gah! Ow. My lord how low is this ceiling?” Floyd groaned.
“What is it?” Rex asked.
“Look for yourself moron,” Floyd said, pointing ahead. Bruce squinted, and saw a small dot on the horizon. Another plane.
“Are there any identifying marks on the plane?” Bruce asked.
“We were locked in a closet when it came, remember?” Floyd snorted.
“But I heard that they were called the Pena Duro Cartel,” Rex added.
“If Pena Duro is anywhere on that plane, we’ll know we have our guys,” Bruce said.
“Or girls you sexist,” Floyd interjected.
“I’ll break your other fingers,” Bruce warned.
“I don’t mean to ruin your hot streak Batman, but what exactly are you planning to do once we catch these criminals?” Rex asked.
“Get the drugs back,” Bruce said.
“How?”
“That’s a good question,” Bruce admitted, “I was hoping we could urge them over to land, and shoot above them so they can lower their plane. They we shoot it down at a low altitude so they survive, but we can retrieve the drugs.”
“Why do they need to survive?” Floyd asked.
“Because I don’t kill,” Bruce stated.
“You just stick to breaking fingers?” Floyd sneered.
“I’ll break a lot more than that,” Bruce said.
“I have a better idea,” Rex said.
“And what is that, Goldilocks?” Floyd asked.
“Why don’t I use my enhanced strength to leap over to their plane when we reach them. I’ll toss the drugs out, take out the pilot, and fly it alongside you two,” Rex proposed, “And don’t worry about my piloting skills. I can fly a Cessna like that.”
“It’s smarter than my plan,” Bruce said.
“How do you jump through the glass?” Floyd asked, thumping his palm on the glass around the cockpit.
“We would have to open it,” Rex said, “And you would need to hold on.”
“We can do it,” Bruce said.
“Then let’s do it,” Rex said, stretching out. The jet steadily caught up with the plane, and sure enough, Bruce saw the words “Pena Duro” painted on the side in white.
“They love to advertise,” Floyd said.
“I guess so,” Bruce nodded.
“Open up,” Rex said, crouching, ready to leap out. Bruce yanked the pilot behind him, making sure to keep him safe. Floyd gripped Bruce’s seat, and grit his teeth. Bruce hit the orange button, and the top of the cockpit swung open. It shook in the high speeds. Rex sprang out of the cockpit, and was flung back by the wind. He caught onto the tail of the Pena Duro plane, and started climbing forward. Bruce shut the cockpit again, and prayed that Rex would be okay. Rex reached the cockpit of the Cessna, and smashed the glass. He swung into the cockpit, and the copilot had a 9mm assault rifle aimed at him. The copilot fired away, and Rex ducked out of the way. He sprang up, knocking the copilot across the jaw. He wrestled the gun out of his hands, and whacked him across his head. The pilot shot at Rex with a Ruger SR9, and hit him in the abdomen. Rex stumbled back, and tripped over a pile of crates. The drugs. He hefted them up, and flung them out of the cockpit, into the ocean. The pilot didn’t stop firing, and Rex didn’t stop throwing the crates out of the cockpit. Finally, after the final crate had been disposed of, Rex collapsed. He got back on his feet, but the pilot fired a final time. Rex fell backwards, out of the cockpit.
“Rex!” Bruce yelled. He took the jet into a nosedive, and swooped below Rex. He opened the cockpit without warning, causing Floyd to wet his pants, and grip the seat again. Rex slammed into the cockpit, and groaned. Bruce closed the cockpit, and zoomed towards America.
“We did it,” Rex smiled, with blood dribbling down his chin.
“You did it,” Floyd said. Bruce was shocked. Was Floyd being… nice? Suddenly, Bruce realized something.
“The Miraclo wore off,” Bruce said, shocked, “It only lasts for an hour. We were in the air for that amount of time.”
Rex nodded, silently.
“You knew,” Bruce said, “You knew the drugs had worn off. You knew you’d die. But you still went.”
“I guess I’ll die a hero,” Rex said.
“Yes you will,” Bruce nodded.
“Is this a prank call?” Trump asked.
“Oh darn. You got me Mister President,” Rex smiled.
“I’m just too smart,” Trump said.
“Yes you are,” Rex nodded, lying through his teeth. He hung up the phone.
“So we’re in the clear?” Bruce asked. Rex nodded, relieved.
“What a great plan,” Floyd said, “Thanks for the bright idea Batman.”
“That was you,” Bruce said.
“I don’t seem to remember that,” Floyd frowned. He strode out of the ruined church.
“How did you survive with him?” Bruce asked.
“I’m only dead on the inside,” Rex sighed, walking after Floyd. Bruce walked out with them. Suddenly, a black jet zipped by overhead, and circled around to land next to them. The A.R.G.U.S. Jet. The cockpit flipped up, and the pilot waved.
“I saw that you brought down the house!” the pilot joked.
“Something like that,” Bruce nodded, jogging over.
“Who’s blondie?” the pilot asked.
“Just another captive. We need to contact to Amanda Waller immediately. She has to send a jet to catch a plane carrying the drugs they were working on.”
“This jet doesn’t have communication lines. We don’t want anyone picking up our presence,” the pilot explained. Then he looked at the small crowd of citizens that had gathered around them, and smirked.
“Well maybe we can catch the plane. It’s headed to Brazil. How fast can this jet go?” Bruce asked.
“Pretty damn fast,” the pilot smiled, “But my orders were to report directly back to the base. No pit stops.”
“Alright fine. Floyd, Rex, come on!” Bruce waved the captives on. Floyd and Rex came over.
“Sorry, we can’t take blondie,” the pilot said, “Just you and Mister Floyd Lawton here.”
“Oh, alright,” Bruce sighed, “Sorry Rex.”
Rex looked down, devastated. He had no idea how he was going to get back to America. Floyd and Bruce climbed into the cockpit. It was cramped, but they made it work. Then, Bruce grabbed the pilot by the back of the head, and slammed his face against the controls. Blood sprayed over the different levers and buttons, and the pilot screamed, holding his face. Bruce then elbowed him in the neck, and he immediately blacked out.
“Climb in Rex,” Bruce said.
Rex smiled, and clambered into the cockpit. Bruce thumbed the steering yoke, trying to remember how to fly a jet. Surely he had flown one before. He was a billionaire playboy after all. He jabbed an orange button, and the cockpit cover slammed down, and sealed shut. He eased on a lever, and began to taxi the jet. He grinned, and thrust it all the way forward. They shot down the street, and Bruce yanked back on the yoke. The jet blasted off of the ground with a screech. Bruce flipped the yoke around, the jet did a barrell roll.
“Hell yeah!” Floyd cheered, “This is flying!”
Bruce smiled silently. Rex’s face was ghastly pale, but he forced a smile.
The jet was soaring over the icy terrain, and Bruce looked for a GPS. There wasn’t one anywhere. Probably the whole anti-tacking initiative the pilot had talked about.
“Hey, check it out!” Floyd said, putting on the pilot’s helmet, “The mask is glowing.”
“What is it displaying?” Bruce asked.
“Looks like a map,” Floyd shrugged.
“GPS?” Rex suggested.
“Sure,” Floyd said, “It’s whatever you want it to be.”
“What is it really?” Bruce asked, losing patience with Floyd.
“A GPS,” Floyd said, “For real.”
“Give it to me,” Bruce ordered.
“It’s mine,” Floyd argued, “I stole it from the pilot.”
“Well I’m the pilot,” Bruce said, “So hand it over.”
“Why don’t you make me?” Floyd smirked.
“I’ve got this,” Rex said. He still had his enhanced abilities thanks to the Miraclo he had taken. It lasted for an hour. He slammed Floyd against the back of the cockpit, and yanked the helmet off of his head. Floyd groaned, and clutched the part of his chest that Rex had hit.
“Here you go captain,” Rex smiled, handing Bruce the helmet. Bruce put it on, and got his bearings. They were almost to the Atlantic.
“Boy Scout,” Floyd complained.
“Eagle Scout, actually,” Rex corrected.
“Even better,” Floyd said.
“Jeez, this jet is fast,” Bruce mused, seeing the radar on the helmet zip by. They were already zooming over the ocean.
“At this rate, we’ll catch the plane with the drugs in no time,” Rex smiled.
“And then it’ll turn out to be the wrong plane,” Floyd added.
“Do you ever stop?” Bruce asked.
“Nope.”
“I can confirm that he does not,” Rex sighed.
“Well, just hold it in for now,” Bruce said.
“Or what Batman?” Floyd asked.
“Or so help me God I will fling you out of this jet,” Bruce said.
“Bet,” Floyd said, sticking out his hand. Bruce grabbed it, and squeezed it as hard as he could. There was a snap, and Floyd shrieked.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Floyd cried, yanking his hand back.
“Relax,” Bruce grinned, “I only broke one of your fingers.”
“You’re a freak,” Floyd said, crinkling his nose.
“I get that a lot,” Bruce said. Rex was trying to hold in a laugh.
“I’m really glad we got to have this bonding experience,” Rex snickered.
“Me too,” Bruce said.
“Thanks for teaming up on me, pals,” Floyd complained.
Bruce just continued flying the jet in silence. Floyd didn’t say another word.
After an hour of tranquility, Floyd jumped up, hitting his head.
“Gah! Ow. My lord how low is this ceiling?” Floyd groaned.
“What is it?” Rex asked.
“Look for yourself moron,” Floyd said, pointing ahead. Bruce squinted, and saw a small dot on the horizon. Another plane.
“Are there any identifying marks on the plane?” Bruce asked.
“We were locked in a closet when it came, remember?” Floyd snorted.
“But I heard that they were called the Pena Duro Cartel,” Rex added.
“If Pena Duro is anywhere on that plane, we’ll know we have our guys,” Bruce said.
“Or girls you sexist,” Floyd interjected.
“I’ll break your other fingers,” Bruce warned.
“I don’t mean to ruin your hot streak Batman, but what exactly are you planning to do once we catch these criminals?” Rex asked.
“Get the drugs back,” Bruce said.
“How?”
“That’s a good question,” Bruce admitted, “I was hoping we could urge them over to land, and shoot above them so they can lower their plane. They we shoot it down at a low altitude so they survive, but we can retrieve the drugs.”
“Why do they need to survive?” Floyd asked.
“Because I don’t kill,” Bruce stated.
“You just stick to breaking fingers?” Floyd sneered.
“I’ll break a lot more than that,” Bruce said.
“I have a better idea,” Rex said.
“And what is that, Goldilocks?” Floyd asked.
“Why don’t I use my enhanced strength to leap over to their plane when we reach them. I’ll toss the drugs out, take out the pilot, and fly it alongside you two,” Rex proposed, “And don’t worry about my piloting skills. I can fly a Cessna like that.”
“It’s smarter than my plan,” Bruce said.
“How do you jump through the glass?” Floyd asked, thumping his palm on the glass around the cockpit.
“We would have to open it,” Rex said, “And you would need to hold on.”
“We can do it,” Bruce said.
“Then let’s do it,” Rex said, stretching out. The jet steadily caught up with the plane, and sure enough, Bruce saw the words “Pena Duro” painted on the side in white.
“They love to advertise,” Floyd said.
“I guess so,” Bruce nodded.
“Open up,” Rex said, crouching, ready to leap out. Bruce yanked the pilot behind him, making sure to keep him safe. Floyd gripped Bruce’s seat, and grit his teeth. Bruce hit the orange button, and the top of the cockpit swung open. It shook in the high speeds. Rex sprang out of the cockpit, and was flung back by the wind. He caught onto the tail of the Pena Duro plane, and started climbing forward. Bruce shut the cockpit again, and prayed that Rex would be okay. Rex reached the cockpit of the Cessna, and smashed the glass. He swung into the cockpit, and the copilot had a 9mm assault rifle aimed at him. The copilot fired away, and Rex ducked out of the way. He sprang up, knocking the copilot across the jaw. He wrestled the gun out of his hands, and whacked him across his head. The pilot shot at Rex with a Ruger SR9, and hit him in the abdomen. Rex stumbled back, and tripped over a pile of crates. The drugs. He hefted them up, and flung them out of the cockpit, into the ocean. The pilot didn’t stop firing, and Rex didn’t stop throwing the crates out of the cockpit. Finally, after the final crate had been disposed of, Rex collapsed. He got back on his feet, but the pilot fired a final time. Rex fell backwards, out of the cockpit.
“Rex!” Bruce yelled. He took the jet into a nosedive, and swooped below Rex. He opened the cockpit without warning, causing Floyd to wet his pants, and grip the seat again. Rex slammed into the cockpit, and groaned. Bruce closed the cockpit, and zoomed towards America.
“We did it,” Rex smiled, with blood dribbling down his chin.
“You did it,” Floyd said. Bruce was shocked. Was Floyd being… nice? Suddenly, Bruce realized something.
“The Miraclo wore off,” Bruce said, shocked, “It only lasts for an hour. We were in the air for that amount of time.”
Rex nodded, silently.
“You knew,” Bruce said, “You knew the drugs had worn off. You knew you’d die. But you still went.”
“I guess I’ll die a hero,” Rex said.
“Yes you will,” Bruce nodded.