I need an old priest, a young priest and a dozen subscriptions to Norton antivirus!

Kara and Barbara sat in the hidden cave under Wayne Tower. They were done with classes and hanging out before going on patrol.

“Lobo,” Barbara asked.

“Ah…” Kara muttered trying to make up her mind, “Fight. Going to go with fight.”

The pair were playing “Marry, Fuck, Fight” while doing their class work and waiting for the sun to go down.

“What?” Barbara asked, “Alien Biker? I figured you would marry or at least fuck.”

“But he always gets on people’s nerves and ends up fighting,” Kara countered, “So I figured just jump straight to the fight. How about Cheetah?”

“Cheetah?” Barbara asked looking at her friend, “Fuck the fight and then fuck again…”

Both friends giggled like school girls. Kara got up and stretched. Barbara smiled and look at the crate.

“What’s with the new suit?” Kara asked.

“Wanted a change to go more digital,” Barbara said going towards the crate, “Want to see?”

Barbara opened the crate. The suit was on a mannequin, Kara looked it up and down. The thigh boots had green bats seemingly made from circuit boards at the tops, the belt was made of the same circuit board material, these arm length gloves also had bands of green circuit board on their top but no flip out keyboards on the forearms. The inside of the cape was green while the outside was black.

“That circuit board on the chest is going to get some real attention,” Kara said tracing the clear polymer shell over her bat shaped circuit board, “is that the real mother board in there?”

“Yeah,” Barbara smiled, “The cowl has eye trackers so I can type by looking at keys on the HUD, hands free.”

“Even the most advanced institutions on Krypton still had keyboards,” Kara said, “There is something about being able to touch what you are working with.”

“Well this allows us to use our hands and feet for fighting while hacking into a computer network,” Barbara smiled and put her elbow on her friend’s shoulder.

A ping got the pair’s attention. Barbara turned and looked at the monitor and the alert.

“Want to go for a race?” Oracle asked.

*

Nathan sped down the road looking for trouble. Death-Racers swung around the corner. It was a fleeting glimpse but Nathan spotted something between the buildings shadowing him. Suddenly his sound system went silent and then an electric guitar played out the notes “Dun-dun…” followed by a “Dun-dun-da…”

“Shit, shit, shit!” Nathan said, “Nothing good ever comes from the Jaws Theme playing.”

The electric guitar blasted another cord.

“Is this gargoyle shit?” Nathan asked aloud, “Who are you?”

“Bad boys!” the Radio blared the line from the Cops Theme song.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The Radio played John Wayne’s line from an old movie.

“What the shit?” Nathan shouted.

“Highway to the Danger Zone!” the radio blared the line from the 80’s song, “Ride into the Danger Zone!”

Nathan looked out to the right to look for the shadow chasing him but didn’t see anything. That didn’t settle him down any since the radio was still possessed by a hacker. Then from the left the motorcycle appeared and pulled out into the street.

“Oh shit,” Nathan said getting a look at the black motorcycle with the cloaked rider, “It’s a Ghost Rider!”

“Meow do you know why I pulled you over?” the radio played a clip from Super Troopers.

Nathan tried to catch the black bike between him and a parked car. The Ghost Rider slipped back and was out on the other side next to Nathan.

“Just what do you think you are doing boy?” the radio played the quote from The Waterboy.

Nathan tried to slam the Ghost Rider between the Devil Racer and another car. The Ghost Rider slipped out and slipped down an ally-way. Nathan laughed to himself, he had driven off a Ghost Rider!

“Hit me with your Best Shot!” the radio screeched the line from the Pat Benatar Song.

Nathan looked around but then the Ghost Rider landed on the roof of the Devil Racer and speed off.

“Fine you bitch!” Nathan said hitting button for the EMP generator.

The Pulse shut down the lights around them, but the Ghost Rider spun around and slammed in to the right side pulse generator in a fishtail.

“Fuck!” Nathan shouted, “How did that asshole do that?”

“I’m gonna get you good!” the radio played the line from Shania Twain.

“Son of a bitch!” Nathan said looking at the backside of the rider of the Ghost Rider, “that is a bitch!”

Nathan’s eyes fixed on the red hair and sexy ass between the black and green cape and the seat of the bike. Nathan tried to look around for an opportunity to escape.

“I will run your ass over!” Nathan sneered.

“YOU ARE UNDER ARREST!” the radio blasted a ska song.

Suddenly Nathan found himself confronted by a pair of police cruisers blocking the road. And as the Ghost Rider swung away, and veered off, the cops started shooting at him. Nathan did the math, he could ram the cruisers, but Devil Racer was already damaged and the EMP generators were out of order. He didn’t know if the bike landing on the roof and driving over him would have damaged the direct fire weapons…

“Shit,” Nathan said swinging the supercar around and did a 180 and drove out the trap.

*

“So?” Jason asked walking up to the terminal under Wayne Tower.

“Status of the supercar?” Batman demanded an update.

“He ran to the river and ripped out all data transceivers,” Kara said while drying her hair, “I fished them out. My bet is he doesn’t even have an AM/FM radio at this point.”

“What is all this stuff?” Jason said as he crowded Barbara at the table.

“Personal Space Boy Blunder,” Barbara said pushing Jason back.

“Analysis?” Batman asked.

“The driver is that Fitch Gear-Head,” Barbara said.

“Gear-head?” Jason asked picking up a circuit board.

“Yeah, Fitch is the driver and builder,” Barbara said, “But as far as where he got some of the components, not sure. I got some weird readings when I Super Mario-ed off the roof of the supercar.”

“Batgirl?” Batman asked.

Kara reached over and brought up the readings from the sensor readings from Oracle’s Batcycle.

“Unless Fitch is supplying NASA’s R&D lab, I doubt he made this power plant by himself,” Kara said.

“No,” Batman intoned looking at the readings.

“Ah… can I get a translation for normies?” Jason asked scratching his head while looking at the data reading.

“The readings are for radiation leakage from an ion power generator like used in the latest space probes,” Kara said, “I made one back in the Science Academy… Dad wouldn’t let me grab one from his lunar satellite communications systems.”

“What?” Jason asked, “I wasn’t even allowed to make a volcano.”

“You were going to use the volcano shell to gas the gym with CS,” Bruce rolled his eyes.

“It would have been epic,” Jason said.

“What is your plan for the rest of the night?” Batman asked.

“In about a half an hour we are going to replace the holograms of us with Tula at a coffee shop hosting lesbian beat poetry and stumble out of there drunk as skunks,” Barbara snickered.

“Just enough to keep people thinking that I am not a super cereal super hero,” Kara snickered.

“Lesbian Beat Poetry?” Jason asked with his eyebrow raised.

“Not as interesting as you would think,” Bruce rolled his eyes.

*

Arkham

Doctor Crane sat at his desk reviewing his notes, the test results were bad. Catastrophic in fact. None of these side-affects had manifested in any of the computer modeling, the animal tests, only now in human trails. A buzzer got his attention.

“Doctor Crane,” He said after he hit the intercom button.

“This is Nurse Jones in Sickbay,” the intercom carried the woman’s voice, “Patient J is cackling and demanding to speak with you.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Crane said calmly.

Crane closed the folder, put it in the lock box and secured it in his desk’s safe. Stepping out of his off and locking the door he was greeted by a familiar voice.

“What are you doing here?” Doctor Strange asked.

“I was reviewing some test results for some patients,” Crane said.

“I take it that they were not good,” Doctor Strange read the tone.

“No, no they weren’t. To make matters worse,” Crane took a deep breath, “Patient J is asking for me.”

“That never goes well,” Strange intoned thoughtfully, “Be careful with him.”

“I do,” Crane said, “What are you doing here so late?”

“Going over performance reviews,” Strange said holding up a stack of folders with doctor’s names on them, “Actually this is fortuitous, if you don’t mind I would like to observe your bedside manor in person.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Crane muttered to himself, “Right this way Doctor Strange.”

Crane lead his boss’s boss down to the infirmary to see what Patient J wanted. On entry he looked at Nurse Jones’ who’s Nigerian complexional had fled her as an ashened pallor had taken it’s place.

“What seems to be the bother,” Crane said as calmly and unconcerned as possible.

“Oh, doctor Crane and the big guy himself,” Joker chuckled then had a fake sad tone, “I was hoping for Doctor Quin and a naughty nurse.”

“Well Doctor Quinzelle has a personal life outside of Arkham,” Crane said taking a seat next to the bed Joker was restrained in, “Fortunately for you I was going over some papers and was here to speak with you.”

“I see,” Joker said, “And the big guy?”

Crane wasn’t sure if Joker knew who Strange was or was just making fun of Strange’s body weight.

“Quality Control,” Strange said calmly, “Ensuring our patients get the best possible care.”

“Now tell me,” Crane said smoothly, “Why did you want to speak with me?”

“Clowns,” the Joker said, “What else.”

“Clowns?” Crane half asked.

“Evil Clowns of course,” Joker said with a dark grin.

“Evil Clowns?” Strange asked.

“You know, the kind in congress!” Joker started to chuckle.

“Of course,” Crane took a deep breath.

Crane braced himself for a politically themed comedy routine.