Well, well, well," began the snide voice of G. Gordon Godfrey, "I hope you viewers at home have been counting."
There was something to his tone, a sort of venomous honey dripping from the very twist of his mouth. One would wonder why so many people liked being condescended to, though in truth, it was all very simple.
Without warning, G. Gordon stood up from behind his chair and pushed an open hand to the camera.
"Five! It's been five days since those deranged freaks cast their wretched magic over our country and we're only just now getting a statement from the United Nations. You'd think with the massive protests and riots we have had over this, they'd kick it up into gears!" His desk shook, and he pulled back his foot to walk around and take his spot right by the giant screen in the back of the shot.
The "g" logo faded in favor of a series of marble stairs leading up to a podium. The very image of a 'very important conference'. For the moment, no one manned the podium, but a handful of men and women in black suits and sunglasses scrutinized the crowd on both sides of the cameraman.
"I suppose better late than never, hmmm?" G. Gordon said with a condescending smile. "So, any moments now, the extremely useful organization that is the United Nations will be revealing their plans on how to deal with the 'Tragedy of the Two Earths' and to make sure" – he smashed a fist into his desk – "that such a disaster never happens again!"
The show host suddenly walked across his studio, passing just under the podium in the background.
"But who am I kidding?" G. Gordon shrugged. "You're not all stupid sheep, are you? We all know what they're going to say. And what is that?"
A few seconds of still silence answered him, during which the smug expression slowly slipped off his face.
"The same damned thing they always say when the freaks and the aliens blow their fuse and blow our houses!" He threw both his arms in the air, then brought them under his chin as if he were begging. "We are deeply sorry that a terrible thing like that happened, and we will be doing everything in our power to make sure that nothing ever happens again… And, you know what, dear sheep? I do believe them." The man rolled a hand, all for a theatrical pause with an air of benevolence so false it would have sent poisonous spiders scurrying. "Yes, yes, I know, 'good ol' G.'s going soft on us?' Ah! They are doing everything in their power to prevent any more tragedies and nothing changes, because those clowns have no power at all!"
One could believe G. Gordon's vitriol would have sufficed to kill any of the UN appointed representatives if they had been standing near them. Panting slightly, the man seemed to gather his cool again and smoothed over his suit.
"But don't take my words for it. Let's hear it," he said with a wave towards the big screen, as the current president stepped behind the podium, flanked by Wonder Woman, Captain Marvel and a man whose features… didn't register.
"-he United Nations have accepted the metahuman Deus Ex's help in undoing the damages caused by the Tragedy of the Split Worlds. Starting today, a delegation will be leaving to tour America, then the other continents."
Flashes of cameras illuminated the podium, and questions rang so loud the show's mics almost sounded garbled. One, though, was heard clearly, both by the audience and the president. "How will this Deus Ex person be helping?"
"… By resurrecting the victims."
One might as well have dropped a bomb in the middle of the press conference, for every journalist began shouting for clarifications, for answers, furiously pushing against the security tape for the chance to have their inquiries put to rest.
Then, the shaking screen went black, cutting feed and plunging the studio back to a much more tolerable volume level.
And G. Gordon Godfrey, famous smooth talker and silver-tongued attacker, stared with his jaw hanging low. Silently, he began to mouth something, before snapping out of his stupor with a wild, angry look.
"Oh, that's convenient! MAGNIFICENT even! On the back of a tragedy like this, some nobody comes out of the woodworks to fix it all for our heroes. No, no, what am I saying? A nobody? Deus Ex is a known criminal who admitted on tape to flaunting the law whenever he felt like it. And that's the person that is supposed to fix all our problems? I'm not buying it! Because you know what we call an offer like that? Too good to be true! Mark my words, folks! This is going to bite us all in the ass! Our wise people at the UN are being conned with the help of the 'Justice' League! And when you're all crying at being shockingly betrayed, don't come crying to old Gordon about being taken advantage of!"
The man's face suddenly froze on the screen, bars of statics appearing across the image as G. Gordon pulled back to his previous position. His expression slowly lost the maniacal, angry look to morph back into shock, his cheeks adorned with a livid pallor.
For a second, the finger on the TV's remote hovered, moving the image back and forth to find that moment of perfect incredulous shock, of fear and worry and sheer gobsmacked loss of words. Dick had been hoping for someone to shut G. Gordon up for months now.
Smugly grinning, he reclined into the living room's sofa and plucked a handful of popcorn from Wally's bowl. It spoke to their combined level of contentment that his best friend did not even raise a token protest.
"Soooo glad we recorded this one, dude."
"That's going to be my screensaver."
***
QUEEN PERDITA OF VLATAVA DIES ON THE OPERATING TABLE: REVIVED BY DEUS EX THE NEXT DAY!
Vlatavan government in shambles. Her uncle Count Vertigo confesses to treason.
During the night of November 11th, Queen Perdita of Vlatava's scheduled heart surgery faced unexpected delays after the donor organ was damaged during transport in a traffic accident. Despite the medical team's best effort of Seattle's Children's Hospital, the young queen perished on the operation table before a replacement heart could be delivered. She was pronounced dead at 10:34pm that evening. Vlatavan government followed the news by announcing a mourning period, which would have ended with the crowning of her closest relative on the Vlatavan throne.
This story's tragic turn however followed a surprise twist as the metahuman Deus Ex passed through Seattle at the time of the Queen's passing. An anonymous hospital worker reported that he apparently showed up precisely where the Queen's body had been stored to prepare for its extradition and brought her back without a word. Similarly, he could not be reached for comments, though this testimony lines up with many parents' account of Deus Ex's visits in their cities.
Whilst the young Queen benefited from what seems to be becoming an increasingly common treatment (as of November 12th, 75% of American cities have been visited by Deus Ex's delegation), Vlatavan parliament faced off with a difficult question. By law, Queen Perdita lost her right to the throne upon her medical death. Though unofficial, her uncle, Count Vertigo, had by default obtained the position of King and was to be endorsed by the parliament's vote of confidence.
Famously, Justice Minister Agata Nowak asked of her fellow elected officials if they believed that petitions should be thus sent to Deus Ex to revive King Roman VII, long held to be the Vlatavan monarch with the most prosperous and benevolent reign, though neighboring countries are likely to argue the point. King Roman VII, having died seventy years ago, would have, according to Minister Nowak's argument, the same amount of legitimacy as Queen Perdita.
Notably, upon hearing Minister Nowak's question, many officials of the parliament were said to have fallen short of a counterargument. Whilst the question appear less pertinent for our modern democracies, Vlatava seemed to have stumbled on an unexpected succession crisis, or would have, had it not been for the last twist of the Vlatavan Crown saga.
The morning following his niece's resurrection, former count Vertigo abdicated all claims to the throne and confessed to high treason. The accident that cost Queen Perdita her life had been orchestrated from the shadows. Reportedly, the Vlatavan royal felt remorse tear at him once he was confronted with his niece's lifeless body.
"But when I saw her body, I… I knew I had become a monster," the man confessed, obviously troubled. "For Vlatava, I would have carried that burden and led my country despite my guilt. My people did not deserve to lose all their leaders through cowardice on top of treachery, but Deus Ex gave my niece a second chance at life. I could not stomach using my home country to hide from my crimes any longer."
***
Sensual-banana-peel:
So, asking for a friend… how does one start a whole new religion?
100thStormtrooper :
One generally needs to find a deity or relevant metaphor, then sells pamphlets and throw objects of symbolic importance at people's face. Collecting donations is optional, but encouraged if you want to build a glorious cathedral someday.
Then, after you're all set up, you pray that your new god isn't offended. If this steps fails, hide in a bomb shelter to avoid locust swarms and meteor showers.
If you are still alive at this point, congrats, you're the newest pope around!
Let'sbanclownsforEternity
Gotham's local elf community can help you with that. They already have pamphlets. And a whole Bible.
Also, they love helping people. They heal the sick and organise community events. They're amazing. Half of Crime Alley would die for those beautiful anime characters.
Strike-me-down-with-all-your-mild-annoyance:
Gotham has an elf community? What next? Dragons?
#No but really #I want in # I can hug my little cousin again # My aunt passed out crying so hard #Me too though # I will donate all of 12$ and 40 cents # I'm poor # But I can erect a shrine in my neighborhood #Sainthood for the Saint #At least I'll feel like my prayers are being answered
735,026 notes
***
Thousands of cell phones throughout the country chimed with their app's weather notification.
RED ALERT
CATEGORY SIX HURRICANE RAGING OVER ATLANTIC OCEAN. ALL FLIGHTS SUSPENDED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.