E P I S O D E O N E : S T R O K E O F M I S F O R T U N E
WELCOME TO HAPPY HARBOUR
W E I S M A N S T R E E T M A L L
July 3rd, 2020 | 3:31p.m. | Happy Harbour, Rhode Island
It felt good to hit something.
Chucko, the Jokerz’s masked brute, crashed into the Kord Store’s display window, broken glass and smartphones scattering onto the wide paved street. Superboy massaged the knuckles on his right hand – although he felt no pain from the punch – and allowed himself the smallest smile. He’d been seeking an outlet lately, and the punching bag in the Sanctuary’s gymnasium could only take so much punishment, but the frustration had been building up inside him for months now, ever since Bruce and Clark had asked him to lead the Young Justice Initiative. Insecurities and inadequacies seemed to meet him at the end of every thought, and it had gotten to the point where he desperately needed to let some of it out. Chucko would do nicely for now.
Weisman Street Mall was a popular spot in Happy Harbour. Running along the beach, it was an outdoor shopping centre, attracting waves of people to its many stores and restaurants. By half past three it had reached its peak, with customers rushing to buy whatever it is they wanted before closing time at five o’clock. Conner supposed that was why the Jokerz had decided to strike when they did – the more people there were, the more fat pockets they had to empty.
The Team’s response time had been impressive. An active unit for two weeks now, they’d had time to get used to the routine, suiting up and ready to go with speed that bordered on efficiency. Conner liked them; they were all capable and eager, each bringing something unique to the table – he could see them growing into some of the greats, truth be told. Until then, though, they had quite a ways to go.
A fist slammed into Superboy’s chest, snapping him out of his thoughts. He stumbled backwards, caught off guard, and this time Chucko hit him under the chin, launching him into the air. Mild pain flared through his jaw as he collided into Magnus, the currently untransformed wolfman staggering momentarily. As Conner regained his bearings, he noted that he was standing in the middle of the street, back to back with the rest of the Team. The Jokerz had pushed the teen heroes back, surrounding them in a tight circle – the gang’s ferocity and unpredictability had momentarily overwhelmed them, if Superboy had to guess.
“Sorry, Fenrir,” he said, allowing himself a brief moment to take stock of the situation.
Bonk, the hammer-wielding thug. Chucko, the obese maniac. The Dee Dee twins, able to multiply upon impact – only two of them so far. Ghoul, with his Halloween themed weapons and bladed arm. Half a dozen masked, nameless henchmen, wielding an assortment of bats and knives. Hailing from the city-sized nuthouse that was Gotham, they’d all been inspired by the Joker in some way. The Dee Dee twins sought to emulate his insanity and the spontaneity that came with it; they were unpredictable and chaotic, the leaders of the gang. Bonk and Chucko liked the strength Joker displayed – while his was psychological, playing upon the fears of his victims, his burly idolisers displayed it through brute force – brains were never really a part of their package. Ghoul, however, understood that the Clown Prince’s ability to induce fear was his ultimate weapon, and through that understanding he came to emulate both the Joker and Scarecrow; an amalgamation of Gotham’s most dangerous individuals. But as formidable as they seemed, there was an undeniable fact that Batman would no doubt agree with: they were amateurs. Which made them more than beatable.
Packed into the circle with Conner were Avatar, Batgirl, Fenrir, Hellfire, Mirage and Twilight. The whole team, ready to show the Jokerz what they were truly made of.
The whole team but for Quickling, who Conner had assigned to crowd control.
“I have to say, I’m kind of disappointed we didn’t get anyone more “big time” than you,” said one half of the Dee Dees.
“I mean, come on, from Batman to this? Talk about a downgrade,” added the other. “At least his flamethrower’s here, I guess.”
“Dee Dee,” said Superboy, “I don’t know where you’ve been… but we’re as big time as it gets.”
With that he swung his fist, launching Chucko back into the Kord Store’s display window –
– and the Team sprung into action.
Chucko, the Jokerz’s masked brute, crashed into the Kord Store’s display window, broken glass and smartphones scattering onto the wide paved street. Superboy massaged the knuckles on his right hand – although he felt no pain from the punch – and allowed himself the smallest smile. He’d been seeking an outlet lately, and the punching bag in the Sanctuary’s gymnasium could only take so much punishment, but the frustration had been building up inside him for months now, ever since Bruce and Clark had asked him to lead the Young Justice Initiative. Insecurities and inadequacies seemed to meet him at the end of every thought, and it had gotten to the point where he desperately needed to let some of it out. Chucko would do nicely for now.
Weisman Street Mall was a popular spot in Happy Harbour. Running along the beach, it was an outdoor shopping centre, attracting waves of people to its many stores and restaurants. By half past three it had reached its peak, with customers rushing to buy whatever it is they wanted before closing time at five o’clock. Conner supposed that was why the Jokerz had decided to strike when they did – the more people there were, the more fat pockets they had to empty.
The Team’s response time had been impressive. An active unit for two weeks now, they’d had time to get used to the routine, suiting up and ready to go with speed that bordered on efficiency. Conner liked them; they were all capable and eager, each bringing something unique to the table – he could see them growing into some of the greats, truth be told. Until then, though, they had quite a ways to go.
A fist slammed into Superboy’s chest, snapping him out of his thoughts. He stumbled backwards, caught off guard, and this time Chucko hit him under the chin, launching him into the air. Mild pain flared through his jaw as he collided into Magnus, the currently untransformed wolfman staggering momentarily. As Conner regained his bearings, he noted that he was standing in the middle of the street, back to back with the rest of the Team. The Jokerz had pushed the teen heroes back, surrounding them in a tight circle – the gang’s ferocity and unpredictability had momentarily overwhelmed them, if Superboy had to guess.
“Sorry, Fenrir,” he said, allowing himself a brief moment to take stock of the situation.
Bonk, the hammer-wielding thug. Chucko, the obese maniac. The Dee Dee twins, able to multiply upon impact – only two of them so far. Ghoul, with his Halloween themed weapons and bladed arm. Half a dozen masked, nameless henchmen, wielding an assortment of bats and knives. Hailing from the city-sized nuthouse that was Gotham, they’d all been inspired by the Joker in some way. The Dee Dee twins sought to emulate his insanity and the spontaneity that came with it; they were unpredictable and chaotic, the leaders of the gang. Bonk and Chucko liked the strength Joker displayed – while his was psychological, playing upon the fears of his victims, his burly idolisers displayed it through brute force – brains were never really a part of their package. Ghoul, however, understood that the Clown Prince’s ability to induce fear was his ultimate weapon, and through that understanding he came to emulate both the Joker and Scarecrow; an amalgamation of Gotham’s most dangerous individuals. But as formidable as they seemed, there was an undeniable fact that Batman would no doubt agree with: they were amateurs. Which made them more than beatable.
Packed into the circle with Conner were Avatar, Batgirl, Fenrir, Hellfire, Mirage and Twilight. The whole team, ready to show the Jokerz what they were truly made of.
The whole team but for Quickling, who Conner had assigned to crowd control.
“I have to say, I’m kind of disappointed we didn’t get anyone more “big time” than you,” said one half of the Dee Dees.
“I mean, come on, from Batman to this? Talk about a downgrade,” added the other. “At least his flamethrower’s here, I guess.”
“Dee Dee,” said Superboy, “I don’t know where you’ve been… but we’re as big time as it gets.”
With that he swung his fist, launching Chucko back into the Kord Store’s display window –
– and the Team sprung into action.