DC: System Shock (COMPLETED)

Well, if I had plans for a wild adventure, this wasn’t what I had in mind. One moment I’m crashing on the couch, thumbing through my dog-eared DC Comics collection, and the next... Boom! I’m smack dab in the middle of Metropolis, and let me tell you, it's not the Metropolis you see on postcards. Imagine, the skyscrapers you dream about from movies and comics, now they're crumbling. Flashing lights and explosions paint the skyline. No, it's not some fancy holographic display; this is real, alarmingly real. There I was, regular old me, standing in all my awkwardness in a city under siege by god-knows-what-and-who. Superman is up there, cape fluttering and all, throwing down with these ominous-looking entities. And me? I'm over here, equal parts stunned and terrified. As debris rains down like a disaster movie on steroids, I’m diving for cover behind a partially collapsed building. The dusty, shredded pages of my comic collection flutter around me, a stark contrast to this gritty, chaotic reality. Then, out of nowhere, this shimmering interface pops up, hanging in the air like a neon sign in Times Square. It’s like some cosmic computer screen offering me options like I’m about to pick a new phone plan. I poke at it because what else do you do when you’re yanked from your comfy world and dropped into a super-powered showdown? The thing offers guidance, quests, and, get this, points. Points! Like I’m suddenly part of some cosmic rewards program. So here I am, taking cover, trying not to stick out like a sore thumb in my jeans and old band t-shirt, while navigating an interface that might as well be from a sci-fi flick. “Welcome to the Universal Network System,” it says. And I’m thinking, “Yeah, thanks for the warm welcome, but can I get a ticket back to my couch?”

Wicked132 · Anime & Comics
Not enough ratings
97 Chs

Yolanda Montez #60

Lounging in a cozy corner of a local café, I observed Rattigan indulging in a rigorous grooming session, his tiny paws meticulously tending to each whisker. Meanwhile, my attention drifted to the glowing screen of my phone, where I perused the latest news updates. 

From drug cartels running amok to terrorist groups popping up like daisies, it seemed the world was in dire need of a hero. Or at least someone to shake things up a bit. 

But alas, nothing caught my eye as a worthy point-harvesting endeavor, leaving me pondering the perplexities of my superhero downtime.

With Livewire's impending release looming on the horizon, I anticipated a crash course in electricity manipulation and media management. Teaching her the ropes should be electrifying, to say the least. Yet, until Livewire's debut electrified the airwaves, my schedule was as barren as a desert. 

As for Mr. Freeze, I'd entrusted him with the Father Box, since he's had more than enough time to reflect on his misguided attempt to rob me. I wasn't worried about him double-crossing me since I installed a special bug I bought from the system into the Father Box, but that's neither here nor there.

I had grand plans to rework Freeze's public image, but they couldn't be implemented until I had my company up and running. 

Sure, I'd done my due diligence on the paperwork required to launch a company, but that was where my expertise ended. Running a business was as foreign to me as deciphering ancient hieroglyphics. Plus, without a killer product or service up my sleeve, I was about as useful as a chocolate teapot at a tea party.

Pondering my options for a business venture, I tapped my chin thoughtfully as I sipped my coffee. 

Mr. Freeze's technology seemed like a promising starting point. I mean, who wouldn't want gadgets straight out of a cryogenic lab? With a bit of brainstorming, we could whip up something sure to fly off the shelves. 

And if all else failed, there was always the option to splurge on some cutting-edge tech from the system and let Freeze work his reverse-engineering magic. The guy was a certified genius, after all.

As for the face of this budding enterprise, I had a few names swirling around in my head. Azrael, aka Jean-Paul Valley, topped the list. He owed me one already, and he proved his worth thanks to his role in securing Livewire's parole.

 But, as talented as he was, running a business wasn't exactly his forte. Plus, there was only so much one man could handle.

Then there was Barbara Gordon. A real brainiac, no doubt, but her penchant for poking her nose into everything made her a risky bet. Not to mention, I'd never even met her, so convincing her to jump aboard would be a Herculean task.

Lastly there was Albert Wesker. You might be scratching your head, wondering who the heck that is. Well, let me jog your memory. Remember the ventriloquist? Yeah, that guy strapped to an operation table in Arkham, with Harley Quinn ready to give him a jab of who-knows-what with a cartoon-sized needle.

Good times, good times. But hey, thanks to the wonders of modern psychiatry—courtesy of one Joan Leland—that chapter of his life is firmly in the rearview mirror.

Now, don't let the whole puppet-on-his-hand thing fool you. Sure, he used to terrorize Gotham with a wooden sidekick, but these days, he's turned a new leaf. And let me tell you, the man's got talent. 

It takes some serious brainpower to convince a bunch of Gotham's toughest thugs to do your bidding, especially with some goofy puppet in your hand doing the talking. 

Running a gang might not be your typical business venture, but hey, leadership is leadership, and business skills are business skills, right? If he can give Batman a run for his money, imagine what he could do in the corporate world with some study.

Besides, Wesekr's status as a reformed villain made him just perfect. Considering I had plans to reform and use-- I mean to employ a bunch of criminals, what better example to set for the world than a reformed criminal running a successful company? 

Finishing off my coffee, I leaned back in my seat, putting away my phone as I pondered my next move. The system's interface glowed invitingly, offering me a plethora of options to stave off the boredom that threatened to engulf me. 

'Maybe triggering another quest could shake things up a bit...?' I mused, browsing through the intel options. 

Before I could dive into that rabbit hole, my phone decided to chime in with its own agenda. With a raised eyebrow, I answered the call from Ted, aka Wildcat, my kinda-mentor and friend in this chaotic world.

"Hey, kiddo," Ted's gravelly voice crackled through the line. "Listen, I need you to do me a big favor..."

I didn't hesitate to offer my assistance. Ted had been there for me since day one, or was it day two? Anyway, I owed him much and had no reason to refuse. 

"Sure thing, Ted. What's up?" I responded, already mentally preparing to head over to the gym where he trained me.

"It's kind of a big deal-- not something to discuss over the phone. Can you swing by the gym?" Ted requested.

Without missing a beat, I replied, "On my way." With Rattigan, perched comfortably on my shoulder, I settled the bill and made my way out the door, ready to see what Ted had in store for me.

Leaning against the wall of Ted Grant's office, Yolanda Montez wore a slight frown as she regarded her mentor and godfather. Her auburn eyes fixed on Ted, the man who had become like a second father to her. 

With a proud lineage as the daughter of Juan Montez, a professional boxer, Yolanda had inherited her father's strength and determination. Over the years, she grew especially close to Ted, going as far as to take his mantle and becoming the second Wildcat when he suffered a debilitating injury in days past. 

She had come a long way since then, carving her own path as a hero. From her days with Infinity, Inc. to her solo adventures, and now her involvement with the Shadow Fighters, Yolanda had faced her fair share of challenges. 

Yet, it was the looming mission ahead with the Shadow Fighters that had brought her to Ted's office today, seeking his help with a sense of foreboding clouding her thoughts.

However, her hopes were quickly dashed as Ted explained that he had prior commitments with his old Justice Society comrades, a matter concerning an old threat reemerging.

 Disappointed but understanding, Yolanda listened as Ted assured her that he knew just the person to assist her and promptly made a call.

Caught in her thoughts, Yolanda snapped back to reality as the young man strolled into the office. 

He blended into the background with his unassuming features, standing at an average height like a regular Joe with a lean build. Still, there was something about the easy grin etched on his face that hinted at a depth beyond the ordinary. 

His gaze swept the room, the rat perched on his shoulder mimicking his movements. "So, what's up, Ted?" he asked, his tone relaxed yet attentive.

Yolanda's skepticism lingered as she observed the young man. He was Micah, the protege of Ted spoke so highly of, who had somehow managed to best him in a sparring match despite his relatively short training. 

Trusting Ted's judgment about Micah's abilities, she still harbored doubts about his willingness to assist in the dangerous mission ahead.

"Thanks for showing up on such short notice, kiddo," Ted greeted, giving Micah a nod of appreciation. "Let me introduce you two... Micah, meet Yolanda Montez, my goddaughter. She's the second Wildcat and a member of the Shadow Fighters," he explained, gesturing towards Yolanda.

Yolanda inwardly sighed at Ted's casual revelation of her secret identity. Still, she brushed off her concerns about Micah leaking her secret, knowing Ted wouldn't have brought him in if he couldn't be trusted. 

Micah flashed a grin at Yolanda and approached her. "The name's Micah Foster. A pleasure to meet you, miss," he said, offering his hand for a handshake.

Yolanda's grip was firm as she shook Micah's hand, reciprocating his greeting with a simple "likewise." 

After a few solid shakes, Micah released her hand, his attention returning to Ted. "So, I'm guessing Miss Montez here has something to do with the favor you want to ask me, Ted?" His head tilted inquisitively as he spoke, his casual demeanor contrasting with the seriousness of the situation. 

Ted nodded, acknowledging the accuracy of Micah's assumption. "You're absolutely right," Ted confirmed. "Take a seat, will you, kiddo? It'll take a while to explain," he suggested, gesturing towards an empty chair nearby, his tone tinged with a sense of urgency.


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