Late-night TV is the best thing in the world.

No, wait, I take that back.

Late-night TV bites.

Oh yes, let's watch everything that we just watched three hours ago! After all, every last one of the people that stayed up until midnight must have gone to bed by 3:00 AM, right?

Well, maybe.

Most people just probably aren't as stupid as me, sitting there with the remote in my hand, too lazy to change the channel, yet not lazy enough to fall asleep on the couch. My insomnia probably wasn't going to kick out for another hour, anyways.

So I sat there on the couch, half-listening to Conan O'Brien, half-listening to Blob's snoring upstairs shake yet another layer of plaster from the ceiling. (I wonder how much of that stuff we've got on these walls, anyways?) Avalanche had gone to his job where he worked the graveyard shift at McDonald's. (And don't think we didn't harass him about it- why couldn't he be a lazy SOB like the rest of us?) Quicksilver had gone out on yet another jog through downtown-- that guy never sleeps. No, really, he doesn't. And my love Wanda was out... somewhere. (I had a hunch that she went to this fancy foo-foo tea & cheesecake restaurant downtown, since she always came back in the morning smelling like strawberries, caramel, and, well... tea and cheesecake. But I wasn't about to ask her about it... after all, would you?)

Anyways, after Conan O' Brien ended, next up was a very special Happy Days marathon. Something involving the Fonz falling in love with an anorexic chimpanzee named Sam. In retrospect, I might have gotten it mixed up with some of the preceding commercials-- like I said, I was rather braindead.

I took that as my cue to finally do something to help myself fall asleep. Yawning and turning off the tube (the old girl was getting so hot that the antennae was starting to melt), I got up, scratched myself, and slowly shifted my way into the kitchen for a glass of warm milk.

I was just about to open the fridge when, SLAM!, I saw this blur zoom in through the broken window (we really needed to get that thing fixed...) and tackle me to the floor. It scared me out of my wits so much that I soiled myself, peed my pants, hiccuped, burped, sneezed, and puked all at the same time. My first thought was OH MY GOD, QUICKSILVER'S HOME AND HE'S DRUNK AGAIN!

But as I gathered my wits, I realized that it couldn't be Pietro... after all, Pietro didn't have a cape on, or two pointy black ears... Holy crud, it was BATMAN!

I started to shriek, but Batman shut me up by kicking me into the already barely-nailed-up counter, sending the boards and all of the dishes stacked on them crashing on top of me.

"BLOB!" I squealed, "BLOB! WAKE UP! THERE'S-"

I was interrupted AGAIN as Batman backhanded me onto the floor. He really needed to give me a second...

As he lunged at me, thinking fast, I jumped up onto the ceiling, sticking firmly to it. As I saw Batman fishing in his utility belt for something out of the corner of my eye, I listened carefully upstairs for sounds of Blob running. Nope, nothing. Of course, it had to be MY luck that a few hours ago Freddy had accidentally drank the bottle of Ny-Quil in the fridge (don't ask ME what it was doing there) instead of the cranberry juice...

Guess I wasn't getting any help from Blob...

...Or was I?

By now, Batman had taken out a multipack of Battarangs from his utility belt, and started throwing them one after another at me. I shrieked again and quickly hopped into one of the corner cupboards, Battrarangs trailed me all the way.

Geez, I hope this is the right one...

Yes, jackpot.

I heard Batman's footsteps outside the cupboard, accompanied by his voice, which sounded like he was talking to me through his teeth.

"Come OUT, kid. I'll make your death quick and painless if you do..."

"Er... e-eh... no."

"Really? You suuure?" I heard Batman crouch down outside the cupboard, obviously readying another of his Battarangs.

In response, I hollered out an indecipherable battlecry/yelp as I kicked the cupboard door violently open. Batman managed to step out of the way, of course, but he couldn't dodge the pile of Blob's boxers I threw at him as soon as I got a clear shot.

The Caped Crusader was instantly out. I mean, heck, I would have been out like a light as soon as I entered the cupboard if I wasn't who I was.

Ah, sloppiness is a virtue.

I quickly scrambled for the duct tape and spent the next five minutes wrapping Batman's unconscious form with it... until I discovered two slips of paper poking out of his pocket when I got to the area around his waist. (I didn't even know his suit HAD pockets...)

Curiosity got the better of me and I fished them both out. One was a huge bill for dry cleaning (don't know what that was all about...), but the other one caught my attention immediately.

It was a letter, written to Batman, from the head of the DC Comics Enterprise.

He had wanted the Caped Crusader to take out every member of the Brotherhood, and then finish the job by mopping the floor with the X-Men and the Acolytes. To eliminate the unwanted competition. The last half of the hand-written stationary had a checklist of all of our names. Judging from the checkmark in front of her name, Batman had already offed Psylocke, but she wasn't supposed to show up for another half-season anyway, so I didn't care.

Egads, this was unsettling.

Guess I'd better send them a message...

Finishing with the duct-taping job, I stuffed Batman in a heavy duty trash bag, twisted it shut, and-- through much grunting and groaning-- managed to haul it to the mailbox after giving Batman a heavy dose of the remaining Ny-Quil. I tried to stuff him into the mailbox, but gave up after his head. I slapped a bunch of stamps on him, addressed the package to DC Comics, put the flag up, and walked back inside, rubbing my strained arms and bruised head.

Yeah, you'd think the mailman would have noticed, but he didn't. Of course, he hadn't noticed when Wanda had mailed me to Kazakhstan five months earlier, and he always smelled like a joint whenever he came to our door to deliver a large package himself, so I didn't count on him noticing anything was unusual anyways.

So, yeah. Free competition for all. That includes the comic industry.

I told the rest of the Brotherhood about it the following day, but of course, they didn't believe me. The only piece of evidence I had to prove beyond a doubt that I had encountered Batman I didn't dare show them. I'd want to keep my identity a secret.

I kept Batman's costume and utility belt for myself.

Of course, once he realizes what happened, Batman will probably come for me in just a few days, so I only have a short amount of time in which to create...

LEGENDS OF BATTOAD!
 

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