Knock-Knock #181

After a brief bout of intense staring, Miss Martian seemed to get the hint. She took off after saying a few words to Deborah and several other police officers, looking very uncomfortable.

I don't see myself getting along with superheroes, other than a few exceptions, because of how I did and planned to do things, so there was no point playing nice, even if I didn't have anything against them.

Some might say that superheroes are overrated and a part of the problem, but I was not one of them. Flawed as they might be, the world would go to hell without them.

As long as there are supervillains with the ambitions and ability to take over the world or destroy it existed, then superheroes would be needed to stop them, not the other way around.

Even if every hero hung up their capes and stopped dressing in tights and fighting crime, Supervillains wouldn't necessarily do the same. Take Lex Luthor, for example; do you think he'd suddenly become a saint who'd lead humanity and turn earth into a utopia if Superman didn't exist?

If you answered no, then you are correct. And not because Luthor lacked the ability or power to do so. There's very little (if any) that Lex Luthor couldn't do, and he proved it numerous times in the comics.

If Luthor couldn't get over his massive ego and do the right thing simply because of his inferiority (to Superman) complex, he'd find something or someone else to obsess over if the man of steel didn't exist.

The world of DC was locked in an un-ending vicious cycle of superheroes and supervillains beating the shit out of each other, and the only ones who'd suffer for it were the average joes.

And there was nothing I or anyone else could do about that particular aspect of the DC comics world.

Cripple the villains? They'd recover and come back more vicious than ever. Kill the villains? Same result. Better yet, someone even worse might show up and take their name.

I've contemplated long and hard on the matter, and the only solution I found was to lift up the average Joes of the world to give them a fighting chance and make that ridiculous quote I muttered at the press conference a reality.

There would be no more supervillains because there would no longer be anyone stupid or weak enough to pray or manipulate. Therefore, that would turn superheroes obsolete as no one would need them, but that wasn't my problem.

I wasn't talking about going around and giving everyone and their mother superpowers. Even if I leveled the playing field that way, it would lead to humans channeling their aggression elsewhere and slaughtering animals or aliens if they can't kill each other.

It has been proven throughout history that humans don't react well to sudden power, no matter what form it takes, regardless of how it's introduced to them. They always end up abusing it.

Give humans sharp and blunt tools for hunting and farming, and they'd use them for war instead. Black powder for mining and digging through mountains to create roads? Nope, they use it to blow the shit out of each other. The ability to harness nuclear fission and create a staple, clean energy source? Sounds good, but how about a quick genocide first?

I could give so many examples of humanity abusing tools that were created for far more peaceful purposes, but you get the idea.

It would have to be a gradual slow process that would give humanity time to adapt to their new reality, which I could only achieve through technology and no other way.

Oh? What's that you say, son? Do you have a low IQ? How about you take this brain implant that turns you into Steve Hawkins? Without the extra wheels and chair to boot! Did I mention it's free? Good deal, right?

What? Do you have an innately weak physique and struggle with basic physical tasks? Here's a super-duper serum that would make you bench press horses.

You don't have any of the said impairments? Well, here are some upgrades anyway. You don't want to miss out, do you? This shit is all the rage nowadays.

Kind of an exaggerated pitch, and I'd have to start with much tamer items like simple software that would make life easier and slowly branch out to performance-enhancing technology.

It was a far stretch at best and downright unrealistic at worst, but it was the only solution I could think of, and not for the lack of effort on my part. Not by a long shot

In any case, these were all plans for the future. I still had one cold stone bitch to deal with, not to mention creating a new arm for Richard, both of which would take effort and time.

I waited for Miss Martian to fly out of sight before quickly approaching Deborah. "All clear. It's safe to go in. I'll send you a recorded report/testimony of what happened..." I added, gesturing to the asylum behind me with my thumb.

"You seem to be in a hurry... did something happen?" Deborah asked, frowning as she gave me a curious look, which I humored since it was her job to know if something serious was happening in the city.

"I have plans..." I replied with a shrug. "And I don't want to be here when the reporters arrive... I'm not ready to face the music just yet..." I added, sighing as I scratched my head.

"I've got you covered on that front... take your time..." the police captain said, nodding her head before she turned to her subordinates and started barking orders.

I returned the gesture before moving into the street, retrieving my bike from the inventory. Putting on my helmet, I climbed over the seat and turned the throttle, speeding away.

...

Tricorner Island

Commissioner Gordon's apartment

Barbra Gordon sighed in relaxation as she took a sip from the cup of coffee in her hand, a stark contrast to her stressed father's figure, sitting on the couch and brooding, as usual, leaving his coffee unattended.

"You should take a break, dad. You're not getting any younger..." Barbra added, shaking her with a sigh. "Better yet, you should retire. This job is stressing you out too much," she went on, her tone growing concerned.

Anyone who knew about Barbra's alter ego might call her a hypocrite as she stressed herself just as much, if not more than her father, but they'd be mistaken.

Barbra found herself unable to bear Batman's recent's obsessive streak as he would not heed anyone's advice and continued to pursue some secret project no one knew about at the expense of his body and mind.

Add to that the constant arguments between Batman, Robin, and Nightwing, alongside the most recent disaster to hit Gotham, which showed her how helpless she was in the face of real threats, and Barbra cracked.

Barbra hung her costume and informed Bruce of her decision, which he had respected and readily accepted. She had been happily retired for over a week, and she couldn't be happier with her decision.

"I wish I could, sweetie... but you and I both know I can't..." the police commissioner replied, bitterly smiling at his daughter's words. "Especially now that he's gone and disappeared somewhere..." he added without explaining who he meant, and he didn't need to anyway.

"I know... but I wish you'd take a break from time to time..." Barbra said, letting out a defeated sigh as she stared into her coffee. "Still... we've got someone else protecting Gotham, and that police captain from the 12th seems like an honest woman..." she added, smiling as she nudged her father.

"Him and you can't keep doing this forever, you know...?" Barbra remarked, half-jokingly, half-seriously, as she was interested in her father's opinion about Grayson as he hadn't talked about it.

"Maybe..." Gordon replied without commenting on Grayson. The father-daughter duo then had a bout of comfortable silence that stretched for several minutes.

A knock on the door broke the silence.

"I'll get it," Barbra said as she got up and walked to the door, to which the commissioner nodded and finally picked up his coffee. "Who is it...?" she asked as she stood behind the door.

"I've got a package for Mr. Gordon," said a voice from the other side, to which Barbra turned to her father. He merely shrugged, and Barbra didn't overthink as she opened the door.

The redhead promptly froze as she opened the door and saw the man standing on the other side. He was tall and thin and wore a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and a purple fedora hat with a camera hanging over his neck.

However, despite looking like a tourist in a city with zero tourist attractions, that wasn't his most distinguishing feature. The honor went to his deathly pale skin, green hair, and the maniacal grin splitting his face.

The man's smile seemed to broaden as he raised his hand, which had a silver revolver. "Knock-knock..." he asked as he played with the trigger, to which Barbra could only watch in horror.

"You're supposed to ask who's there..." he went on as he squeezed the trigger. Instead of a loud gunshot, the gun produced a strange honking sound as the bullet flew out of its muzzle, penetrating Barbra's uterus, and settling into her spine.

...

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