transemacabre | FIC: Ace of Spades (Zemo: Year One)

This is the second chapter of

ang_band and I's tragi-comedy Marvel/DC crossover series, which we like to call Zemo: Year One. The first chapter, Spoiled, was written by

ang_band.

Title: Ace of Spades
Rating: M for Mature
Fandom: DC/Marvel
Summary: Zemo has crash-landed in the DC Universe and is rescued by Spoiler. Now joined by his "faithful sidekick", Fixer, Zemo attempts to prove to their newfound friend Spoiler that he is a GREAT HERO.

Spoiler's "base of operations" was more of a rundown apartment in a nondescript area of Gotham City. Zemo stood in the living room, trying not to touch any of the shabby furniture, while Spoiler dug around in the bedroom. "Here you go," she said, reappearing with a small box in her arms. "A couple of pairs of pants, a few T-shirts... it's not much, but maybe it'll get you through the next couple of days."

Zemo reached into the box and pulled out a T-shirt with Whatssamatta U written across it. "Delightful."

Spoiler seemed to regard him for a moment. "I could get in touch with some people, y'know, about your situation. Maybe get you some help finding your way back to your world."

"I -- no, no thank you." The last thing Zemo wanted was more people, more questions. "I am confident that my teammates will find a way to get me home."

His words were prophetic. Moments later, a brilliant flash of light illuminated the room. "Get down!" Spoiler cried, and then she tackled Zemo, knocking them both behind a couch. He scrambled underneath her, trying desperately to get away. After a moment the white light faded, and Zemo heard a familiar voice cursing furiously. Poking his head over the back of the couch, Zemo blinked until his vision returned to normal, and then he could see Paul Norbert Ebersol, aka the Fixer, aka Techno, aka That Magnificent Bastard, sitting in a circle of scorched carpet, a small electronic device in his hands.

"Piece of junk!" Fixer shouted. "Damn thing shorted out the first time I used it!" He shook the offending device at Zemo as though it were his fault.

"Fixer!" Zemo had never been more pleased to see the man. "You found me! Come, we must return to our own world at once -- "

"No can do, boss," Fixer said, climbing shakily to his feet. "Wendell helped me lock onto your chronal signature, but this piece of junk shorted out getting me here. We're both stuck until I get it fixed."

Zemo could have gnashed his teeth, stomped his feet, rended the couch into shreds, or sworn eternal vengeance on whoever was handy. But he barely caught control of himself -- the situation was bleak, yes, but not impossible, not with Fixer's genius combined with his own engineering skills, and he still needed Spoiler's cooperation if he wanted to survive in this unusual alternate world.

Zemo climbed over the couch, followed a moment later by Spoiler. Fixer wagged his eyebrows at them. "Heh, I didn't mean to interrupt anything, boss!"

Spoiler turned to Zemo. "Do you run with this guy?"

He served with me in the Masters of Evil and the Thunderbolts. I do not 'run' with him. "He is my -- sidekick," Zemo said finally. "Yes! Spoiler, meet my loyal sidekick, the Fixer!"

***
Dear Diary,

Crazy as it may sound, I've got a good feeling about this guy. I know, as Tim would say, that there's no logical reason why I should trust him. Zemo could be a spy, or a robot, or one of Deathstroke's whacked out headgames. But nothing he's told me has set off my bullshit detector. Zemo has been really forthcoming with information -- almost too forthcoming. He's told me all about his superhero team, the Thunderbolts, the enemies and disasters they've faced, and their triumphs. He is obviously very proud of them.

Fixer -- I'm not so sure about Fixer. What IS Zemo doing with a forty-something sidekick who's first question to me is, "Hey sweet thing, you keep any scotch around here?" But Zemo trusts him, and talks about how brilliant the guy is, so maybe I should give him a chance, too.

But if he calls me 'sweet thing' again, my fist is gonna have a date with his teeth...

***

Spoiler spent much of the rest of the night giving Zemo and Fixer a quick lesson in Gotham City and its resident vigilantes and spandex-clad goons. "Batman is on an extended mission with the JLA right now," she told Zemo, as she dug around in the cabinets for hotdog buns. "The JLA are the most respected superhero team around. The big guns."

The Avengers' counterpart, no doubt. "This Batman is the chief protector of Gotham?"

Spoiler squirted ketchup into a bun. "Yeah, this is his city. Robin is his protege. Of course, I'm around, as are the Birds of Prey. The Flash stays mostly in Keystone City, and Green Arrow is in Star City..."

A loud snore, and Zemo glanced over to see Fixer sprawled across the couch. They needed to get an early start tomorrow, secure the equipment neccesary to repair Fixer's schlecht bauen interdimensional device. Turning around, he saw that Spoiler was gone. The window was open, curtains flapping in the breeze.

Nearer to dawn than midnight, and the night's air was cool. Zemo climbed up to sit beside Spoiler on the roof. She smiled at him and offered a hotdog; he accepted the noxious thing, being in no position to turn it down.

Zemo tried to think of something to say, words to fill the silence. He finally settled on saying, "It is a fine thing you are doing, protecting this city and it's inhabitants. A great responsibility for one so young to shoulder."

"Hee hee, well, I guess I inherited the skulking in shadows thing from my dad." She laughed a little; it was not a joyful laugh. "He couldn't just be a common crook, so he put on brightly-colored spandex like all the other mental cases in Gotham."

"Your father, he was a... supervillain?"

Spoiler's smile was crooked and sad. "He was like the Riddler," she said, "but with dumber hints."

"Ah." Zemo felt this would mean something to him if only he knew who 'the riddler' was. This girl, his young benefactor, was opening up to him -- perhaps they could find some common ground to bind her more tightly to him. Clearing his throat, Zemo said, "My father was, likewise, considered to be an evil man by most."

She looked at him sideways, her blue eyes wide, seeming very small and vulnerable. "What -- what did he do?"

"Many years ago," Zemo told her, "my father was a follower of Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich. His orders sent many innocent people to their deaths. It took me a long time to break free of his rhetoric, to see how small-minded and petty his beliefs truly were."

"Did you still love him?" Spoiler bit her bottom lip. "Even knowing the horrible things he did?"

"....he was my father," Zemo said finally. "It is possible to love someone, and yet to know them to be a horrible person."

***

He shared his PAST with me -- a past that has to be painful, but he told me in confidence, without shame.

But still -- to be the son of a Nazi war criminal, and to come from that and to STILL want to be a hero, to want to do the right thing -- that's amazing. Zemo wants to go out on patrols with me, to help defend Gotham City, a city that doesn't even EXIST on his world, a city that he has no reason to want to protect, other than because he's a hero and that's what heroes do.

***

The next evening, Spoiler invited Zemo to go 'on patrol' with her around Gotham City. Zemo accepted, of course -- it was an excellent opportunity to get into Spoiler's good graces, and to learn the geography of this city. "Do you want to come, too?" Spoiler asked Fixer.

Fixer sat in the middle of the living room floor, a wrench in one hand and the interdimensional device in the other. He wore only a pair of Transformers boxer shorts that had once belonged to Spoiler's ex-boyfriend, mismatched socks, and her iPod. "Nah," he said, poking a transistor with his finger, "I got work to do here."

Zemo shot him an angry look, but Fixer just saluted him and went back to tinkering with the device. "I knew I shouldn't have let Wendell get me those parts," he muttered to himself. "Belgians can't engineer for shit. Japanese everytime, baby."

It seemed only a few minutes had passed since Zemo and Spoiler left, but soon the apartment grew dark, and looking at the clock, Fixer saw it was almost ten at night. Just in time for his favorite show, 'Pimped by an Angel', which he never missed on Wednesday nights. Turning on the TV, he cursed when he realized that, not only did Spoiler only have basic cable, but the Poon-Tang Channel might not even exist at all in this universe. That does it. I gotta get home now.

Fixer sprawled across Spoiler's stained couch, idly flipping channels. He'd just settled on Discovery and the opening credits for "Earth: The World's Most Dangerous Planet" were starting when a cool breeze on his neck alerted him that he had company.

The kid was dressed in a skintight red spandex number, complete with cape (obviously endemic to all costumes on this world) and a domino mask like the ones Captain Asshole America's sidekicks wore.

"Um," Fixer mumbled as he pulled the iPod buds from his ears. "You must be that friend Spoiler talked about. Bluejay."

"Robin."

"Yeah, yeah, Robin."

The kid stared at him, as though trying to intimidate him, break his nerve. Fixer just gave him an easy, crooked smile. Kid, you ain't nothing compared to Mentallo's poker face. "Spoiler mentioned she had company," Robin said. "Where is she?"

"Oh, her and Zemo left to go patrol around Gotham." Fixer eyed the gadgets on Robin's belt with some interest. Spoiler's tech had been pretty low-grade by his standards, but this kid had some dough backing him up. Robin studied him, probably mentally categorizing his weak spots and pressure points. Fixer had known a few costumes like that, vigilant, obsessive. Eaten up by ulcers before they were thirty. I bet the ladies love that 'dark and mysterious' shtick, though.

"So," Fixer cocked his head to one side, "I bet you get a lot of pussy with this superhero gig, huh?"

Robin stared at him silently.

***

'Patrolling', so far as Zemo could tell, involving skulking about in back alleys, clambering atop gargoyles (which infested every skyscraper in this wretched city), and leaping from rooftop to rooftop. The girl seemed to treat it all like an extreme sport and she kept up a running commentary on the city, its inhabitants, and how "awesome" it was that they were patrolling together. Zemo began to suspect that she was quite mad.

Static crackled on a miniature communication device that Spoiler carried with her, and she paused to listen in on a police channel. "Uh oh," she said. "Joker's been spotted in south Gotham."

"Joker?"

"A bad guy," Spoiler told him. "No powers, but he's a sick sonafabitch. Uses poison gas on innocent people. Really bad." Then she was off, and he was chasing after her, following her across tenements and down alleyways. She spotted some goons in makeup, and they tailed them for several blocks until they were led to a dilapidated warehouse. Somewhere in the distance Zemo could hear police sirens, but they sounded as though they were moving in the opposite direction. Wanting a higher vantage point, Zemo headed for a nearby, filthy tenement building.

Zemo clambered up the fire escape, grimacing when he saw the black stains left on his gloves from griping the rails. Why did this city smell like wet concrete and chemicals, and why did everything he touch leave black filth? Reaching the tenement's highest story, he could easily see Joker and his gang swarming about inside the abandoned warehouse from this vantage point.

"I'm calling for back-up," Spoiler said, appearing beside him. "Stay here, okay? I'm gonna contain the area until help arrives." Her face was unreadable, hidden beneath her mask. "I don't take on the Joker alone." She launched herself from the rail onto the balcony of a neighboring building, and in a moment was gone.

Zemo grumbled under his breath. It bored him to sit out a battle, and anyway, didn't Spoiler say this Joker character didn't even have any powers? Nothing but gas or miasma or some such, nothing that the Red Skull didn't cook up on his weekends. He watched as Joker's goons shook down the terrified hostages for money, while Joker laughed maniacally. He examined the Joker's face, features contorted unnaturally, his skin caked with white facepaint. Mein Gott, he's annoying, Zemo thought. Why hasn't someone put him out of his misery yet?

Out of the corner of his eye, Zemo caught a glimpse of purple. Spoiler was creeping around back, probably still waiting for her back-up, if they even arrived before Joker began shooting hostages.

A shriek brought his attention back to the macabre scene in the warehouse. Zemo watched as a terrified female hostage was dragged before the Joker, weeping and pleading for her life. The Joker pulled out a deck of playing cards, and selecting one, flicked it at the girl's face. Razor-edged playing cards, thought Zemo, when he saw blood ooze down the girl's cheek. How gauche.

This hostage was going to be seriously injured or killed soon, as Joker's twisted gags became more and more dangerous. Zemo watched as the Joker capered about, then theatrically produced a long-barreled gun from inside his coat. The hostage wailed as the Joker pointed the weapon right between her eyes.

I could kill him, Zemo thought. I could kill him right now and spare Spoiler the trouble. I have a clean shot. Bored, and weary of crouching on a fire escape, Zemo drew his own pistol and took aim.

When he pulled the trigger, he played for keeps.

An impressive spray of blood exploded from Joker's head. For a heartbeat, no one moved, and then Joker staggered, and collapsed. The gun dropped from his hand and clattered on the floor, and then a tiny flag popped out of the barrel, emblazoned with the word "BANG".

The Joker's gang milled about in confusion, and then several of them ran for the exits, their nerve broken. Holstering his pistol, Zemo swung down from the fire escape and ran towards the warehouse. Kicking in one of the back doors, he drew his weapon and held it on the remaining members of Joker's gang. A hostage was sobbing, "Oh, thank God, that maniac was going to kill us all!" A pool of blood encircled Joker's body; he looked very small and broken, and not at all dangerous.

"Zemo," Spoiler melted from the shadows, "you... you shot Joker in the head?!"

"Get down on the floor!" Zemo commanded the last couple of Joker's goons. "Hands behind your heads! Why, yes, Spoiler, I did."

The female hostage touched the blood dripping down her face, then squeezed her eyes closed and wept, as though both relieved and unbelieving at finding herself alive. Spoiler quickly handcuffed the goons, but then turned on Zemo, anger written in every curve of her body. Zemo put his pistol away, and then prodded at Joker's corpse with the toe of his boot. Yes, definitely dead.

Spoiler clenched her fists. "Heroes don't kill," she said. "We don't cross that line. That's what makes us different from the bad guys."

Zemo looked down at the crumpled, bloodstained figure at his feet, and said, "What makes you different from him is the gaping hole in his skull." He stepped over the body, then paused to wipe his boot on the Joker's pant leg.

"Spoiler." The voice made her visibly startle. Zemo turned to see a young man in a (what else?) garish costume standing in the doorway. The young man's gaze flitted from the Joker's body to Zemo and then to Spoiler. "What is going on here?"

"Listen, Robin," said Spoiler, holding her hands up as though to placate him. "I know this looks bad. Trust me, I know how bad it looks. But this guy, he's a -- a friend of mine. His name is --"

"I am Baron Helmut Zemo!" Zemo declared, striding up to Robin. "I am a time-tossed interdimensional traveler, a great hero of my world, and I am currently stranded in this universe until I am able to construct --"

Robin turned to Spoiler. "Is this guy for real?"

Spoiler gave an apologetic shrug.

Zemo was about to be offended, when he caught sight of Fixer slipping in behind Robin. "Hey, boss," said Norbert, giving him a tiny one-handed salute. "I followed Bird Boy here and -- crap!" Fixer grimaced at the sight of the Joker's body. "Did you do that? That's fucking nasty." Fixer seemed to consider something, and then asked Robin, "He's not a mutant is he? Should we cut his head off to make sure it's permanent?"

Robin stared at the ceiling as though asking the heavens why. "Are all the heroes of your world as quick to shoot people as you are?" he asked Zemo.

"He had a hostage." Zemo didn't feel he needed a better defense.

"He's telling the truth, Joker did have a hostage," Spoiler told Robin. "Zemo was trying to protect innocent people."

"He still can't go around shooting people in the head," Robin said. "Spoiler, take this guy and his -- " Robin narrowed his eyes at Fixer -- "sidekick back to your base and keep them off the streets for now. I'll deal with Batman."

Zemo was growing angry at being talked down to by a boy barely out of short pants, but Spoiler hustled him and Fixer out of the warehouse before he could say anything to Robin. "Let's just go back to my base," she said. Her voice sounded weary and worn. "Let's call it a night before anything ELSE happens."

When they got back to the apartment, Fixer crashed on the couch and kicked his shoes off. Spoiler glared at him. "How can you sleep at a time like this?" Fixer just stretched, wiggled his toes, and began snoring.

Zemo leaned against the doorway. Spoiler turned to look at him, her eyes bright in the darkness.

Spoiler thunked her palm against the side of her head. "I can't believe you killed the Joker!" she moaned. "What am I going to tell Batman?"

"Who is that, again?" he asked her. Spoiler just moaned louder and stalked off.