Part 3 of 5.
Mick Rory was, ironically, a hothead. There was nothing he liked more then getting into a good old fashioned brawl with any idiot that tried to even suggest they were better then him. It really ticked him off... and usually it sent his unstable temper right into the boiling point.
Speaking of points, case in point:
"I'm willing ta let alla you losers leave this place!" Mick roared while holding a wooden chair above his head. "All I want... is an apology!" He had paid a visit to his favourite bar, the Heat, and after getting somewhat... drunk beyond comprehension, had decided to take part in his second favourite activity (after setting idiots alight), beating up idiots. They'd said something to him while he was halfway through a drink... Mick hadn't really been listening... but it had sounded like an insult.
"An apology?!" The culprit yelled, the vein in his forehead pulsing brightly. "I gave you a compliment!" The guy was flanked by two of his bar buddies, neither of them seemed to understand what was going on. To be fair... Mick didn't know either.
"You heard the man." A low, somewhat somber voice said from the corner of the bar stand, his name was Marco Mardon, the Weather Wizard.. and he was currently emptying his woes and misfortunes into a pint of beer. "Apologize! Or he'll start breaking limbs!" Mick had known Marco for years now... and despite the two of them being very different in virtually every way, they'd both become great friends... and both would happily die for each other.
"What?!" The culprit's forehead looked like it was going to explode at this point. "No!" He screamed. "No, you can go fu-"
"Good." Mick grinned, he casually held up the chair with one arm and took a swig of his beer with the other, finishing the last of it off, he dropped the glass to the ground, causing it to shatter... and he casually wiped the last of the liquid from his lips.
"I wus hoping you'd say that." He slurred.
Sometimes, humanity had to realize just how flawed it actually was.
Sometimes... humans needed a dramatic example to spur them into action... and to make them realize the injustice that was all around them. The example could be anything really... from an idiot dressed in a bat costume to a small child asking why such terrible things exist on the planet.
This... example... was somewhat different.
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen!" Axel Walker yelled to the winged pigs hovering in the air around him, they were cameras he'd designed to film his heroic deeds and stream them immediately onto the Internet, the reason the pig cameras had been granted small little mechanical wings was to make it easier for them to follow him around. Axel had gained the idea when his High School teacher had insulted him years earlier.
"You'll be a success when pigs fly!"
It was close enough.
"Welcome to the Trickster show! Broadcasting live from the City of Tomorrow!" Axel snorted slightly and pulled out a hipster hat from the infinite space pouch he kept around his shoulder. "The City of Tomorrow is SO last century!" He snorted.
People needed a dramatic example to snap them out of confinement... and nobody was more dramatic then Axel Walker.
"Our guest today is responsible for creating AND selling WMDS! That's Weapons of Mass Destruction for all you noobs out there. Each of these WMDS is responsible for the deaths of HUNDREDS of people! And if any of the commenters from the last episode have guessed who our special guest is you'll get a free prize!" Axel waited a couple of seconds before continuing. "And... our prize goes to a Mister Irwin Hampton of Coast City for guessing... dramatic pause... TED KORD OF KORD INDUSTRIES! Irwin! You can expect a hive of angry hornets outside your door, shortly!"
Axel fastened the laces of his flying shoes before stepping towards the edge of the building he had chosen as his vantage point, the view of Metrpolis was beautiful, truly a view to die for... but like everything, it could use a bit more... fun.
"Great work, Irwin!" Axel yelled before leaping from the roof, his cameras darted after him, plunging down after the young adult as he plummeted towards the pavement below. If it weren't for Axel's handy dandy flying shoes he'd have been splatted into sidewalk pizza, however because of what I just clearly stated, he wasn't. Mere seconds before being turned into the aforementioned dairy product, Axel's shoes quickly halted his descent, flipped him the right way up and manually adjusted themselves to ensure maximum comfort.
"Scared ya for a second didn't I?" Axel said as his cameras rejoined him. Several onlookers started at the teen wonder in amazement. "Hi." Axel said to an attractive blonde walking by. "Call me."
Right on cue, a limousine passed by on the street, Axel turned to the cameras and winked before pulling his infamous Snot Gun from his pouch. He rose slightly into the air until he was above the limo's roof. He aimed his gun to the center and pulled the trigger, firing a large wad of green goo onto the rooftop, quickly burning its way through the metal. The snot was acid. GREEN acid. Like the colour of snot... Axel was pretty proud of it.
The Trickster hovered by the hole he'd created and peered into the passenger area of the limo. He was careful not to block the whole hole with his body... it was important the cameras saw what was about to happen.
"Ted Kord?" He asked, hesitation in his voice.
"What the hell?!" One of the limo's passengers yelled. It was Ted Kord... Axel had seen pictures of him... and could tell from the overweight frame. Axel smiled to himself while pulling a carefully preserved custard pie out of the infinite reaches of his pouch.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'."
"Why are you always so damn drepressed Mark?"
Mick was smashed. Partly from drinking too much, partly from having been smashed over the head with a chair, he didn't really care though... his tough frame had been through much worse.
"Because we live in Gotham, Mick." Marco answered while helping his drunken friend up the stairs to his apartment. That wasn't true... but it was a perfectly good reason, the truth was... that Marco's mood shifted with the weather, at the moment it was raining, hence the depression.
"Alright, buddy." Marco muttered sonce they reached the right floor. He helped Mick slowly up the steps.... and nearly had a heart attack when he saw who was waiting outside Mick's apartment door.
"Oh sh!t." Marco said upon instinct as the figure's head snapped towards them.
"Guys! Hey guys!" Leonard Snart yelled, he was dressed in clothes several sizes too small for him, his shirt was an ugly shade of green and had a picture of a zombie saying 'bite me' in the middle. Not really what Captain Cold was usually seen wearing. Not only that... but he reeked of garbage.
"Izzat Cold?" Mick grumbled in his drunken state.
"Go away, Snart!" Mardon yelled. "We don't want to talk to y-"
Snart stretched his arms across the hallway, blocking his two ex teammates from getting past... and also increasing the stench by combing the reek of his clothes with the reek of his armpits.
"Oh god!" Marco gagged. "Haven't you heard of Deoderant?!"
"Come on guys!" Cold moaned. "I just wanna talk!"
Maybe it was the alcohol talking... or maybe it was Mick getting older... but for whatever reason, sympathy glashed across his face.
"About what?" He slurred. Leonard's eyes twinkled as he activated the crafty conman skill he had mastered in his early years as a blue collar criminal.
"I'm gonna get the gang back together."
Marco wasn't surprised.
"Even Sam?" He asked.