DC Heroes in Marvel

Morning Rush Hour in New York City

The streets of New York City were packed during working hours. Cars clogged the roads in an endless line, while pedestrians bustled shoulder to shoulder along the crowded sidewalks.

Suddenly—whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

A man wearing a strange outfit, riding a flying skateboard, shot across the sky like a meteor.

The sonic boom snapped the attention of countless onlookers.

"What the...!"

"A flying skateboard? Is it Harry Osborn?"

"No, it's not him. This guy's different... he's someone new! Something's happening!"

Some people assumed it was Harry Osborn, the newly minted superhero who had recently made headlines. But those who knew better dismissed the idea, sensing that something significant was about to unfold.

Bold passersby, driven by curiosity, discreetly followed the flying figure to the Manhattan docks.

There, they saw the strange figure on the skateboard hovering above the pier, staring down at rows of warehouses below.

"Come out, Flint Marko!"

The voice echoed across the docks, calm but commanding.

The figure, as the spectators would soon learn, was Phil—recently introduced on the superhero stage.

His firm voice stirred a ripple of unease among the dockworkers. Realizing something strange was about to happen, many scattered, fleeing the area. 

Once at a safe distance, they stopped to watch the unfolding scene.

Phil remained motionless in the air.

Suddenly, the wind picked up.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

The air swirled violently, carrying yellow sand that stung the eyes. The grains seemed to pour from nowhere, as though all the sand stored in cargo ships at the dock had been unleashed by this mysterious gale.

Faraway onlookers began murmuring among themselves, realizing something unnatural was at play.

"Who are you?"

A deep, resonant voice boomed through the storm.

Phil grinned. "I'm Hobgoblin , a full member of the Justice League. I've been sent by Batman himself to deal with you. But on behalf of the League, I'll give you a chance: surrender Justin Hammer, serve your ten years in prison, and walk away with some dignity."

"Hmph!"

The voice scoffed coldly, and Flint Marko—Sandman—made it clear he wouldn't go down without a fight.

The swirling sandstorm intensified, coalescing into a tornado of ferocious power, aiming directly at Phil in midair.

Meanwhile, the crowd below buzzed with shock.

A Justice League member?

The hobgoblin ?

A new superhero had emerged, and judging from the conversation, this hero was after none other than Flint Marko—the same robber who had kidnapped Justin Hammer!

"Hiss—!"

The audience collectively drew a sharp breath.

"This is no small matter!"

Ten Minutes Earlier

Anton had just stepped off a plane at New York's airport. While waiting in the terminal, he opened his phone to a text message—an update from Phil.

Knowing the situation was approaching a critical moment, Phil had reported his plan to his boss before making a move. After Anton gave his approval, Phil sprang into action.

Now in New York, Anton checked the time, realizing Phil was already in motion. Without hesitation, he called the Continental Hotel.

"Anton, our team is ready," Winston's calm voice greeted him on the other end of the line.

"Good," Anton replied. "Mobilize all your people. Phil will handle Flint Marko. Your objective is to capture Justin Hammer."

"No problem," Winston assured him, confident in his team's ability to carry out the task.

As one of the High Table's key strongholds in America, the Continental Hotel played a unique role. 

It had become an indispensable part of the High Table's operations, thanks to its association with Batman.

In fact, the High Table couldn't bypass the Continental Hotel when dealing with Batman. To communicate or pass messages to the Dark Knight, the Continental Hotel was the only reliable channel.

This rule was established from the beginning:

If anyone from the High Table attempts to bypass protocol by going directly to The Daily bugle, DC Company, or contacting Anton or Eddie to communicate with Batman, it is considered a breach of the rules.

It's worth noting that the High Table is a highly disciplined organization.

Thanks to the unique status of the Continental Hotel, Winston holds a privileged position within the High Table, akin to an unofficial elder. 

This elevated status, combined with the influence of the Continental Hotel, has allowed Winston to expand its reach. The Hotel now dominates Hell's Kitchen and effectively controls all of New York's underground.

Winston has essentially replaced Kingpin as the dominant figure in New York's underworld. However, he's keenly aware that this newfound power is entirely due to Batman's influence.

He vividly remembers the night months ago when a figure clad in black armor, a flowing cape, and an aura of authority infiltrated his safe house with unnerving ease. 

The man spoke in a calm yet chilling tone that carried no overt malice but was deeply unsettling.

"Do not test me," Batman had warned before leaving as silently as he had come.

"See you later," Winston muttered to himself as he hung up the call.

Beep— The line disconnected.

Anton climbed into the car waiting for him at the airport. The driver was none other than his employee, Eddie Brock.

As Eddie navigated the streets toward the Manhattan Continental Hotel, the agreed-upon rendezvous point, he shared an update.

"I just spoke to captain Stacey. He's already dispatched the task force to the location Phil designated. They'll handle the pickup."

"Good," Anton nodded, satisfied. "George will meet us at the Continental."

Eddie chuckled as he added, "Phil's done a great job this time. When he's back, let's let him write tomorrow's headline himself—he's earned the right to brag a little."

Anton smirked. "I think so too."

Manhattan Dock Area

The fight between Phil and Flint Marko, the Sandman, erupted in an instant.

Flint's mutant powers made him unpredictable, but Phil had prepared for this encounter. He understood Flint's abilities well, thanks to Anton's guidance.

 Over the past ten days, Phil had collaborated with Donatello to create a batch of freezing guns, complete with ample ammunition.

These weapons fired bullets with immense impact, capable of instantly releasing extreme cold to freeze targets solid in mere seconds.

 Inspired by Captain Cold, the notorious Flash villain and leader of the Rogues, these freezing guns weren't quite as powerful but were more than sufficient to handle Flint.

"Damn it!" Flint growled, his expression dark.

The freezing gun posed a significant threat to him. It was akin to a Logia-type Devil Fruit user facing an opponent with Haki: his abilities were severely hindered.

Without his usual advantage, Flint's arrogance quickly waned.

"Phil... the cavalry's here!"

Suddenly, the sound of a roaring engine cut through the chaos. A truck sped toward the docks, drawing cheers from the onlookers.

The truck was instantly recognizable, its sides adorned with the unmistakable portraits of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles—a familiar sight to New Yorkers.

Phil grinned as he glanced at the truck.

"You're just in time!" he called out, laughing.

Everything was going exactly as he had planned.

Although Phil planned to make his public debut under the watchful eyes of New Yorkers, he didn't put all his eggs in one basket. Calling in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was the extra insurance he had arranged.

Near the battlefield where Phil and the Sandman clashed—in the dock area—a tense situation unfolded elsewhere.

Inside one of the bungalows, Justin Hammer's expression darkened as he observed Phil, the so-called "Hobgoblin," attacking Flint.

He realized with dread that he had been exposed.

"Batman… the Justice League… what do they want from me?"

From the Hobgoblin's words and actions, Justin deduced that Batman and others were somehow involved, though the full extent of their plans eluded him. Still, he wasted no time.

"Flint, keep them busy," he muttered under his breath as he hurriedly began packing.

Boom!

Just as Justin opened the door, a calm voice greeted him:

"Hello, Mr. Hammer. The Continental Hotel welcomes you."

Standing in the doorway was a tall, confident man, smiling slightly as he addressed Justin.

Justin's face went pale. Without hesitation, he tried to slam the door shut.

Bang!

The Continental Hotel's representative reacted immediately, kicking the door open before it could close. With one swift move, he grabbed Justin by the collar, lifted him effortlessly, and dragged him outside.

A black sedan waited at the curb. The man threw Justin into the backseat, climbed in, and the car sped off, leaving the scene just as chaos erupted at the docks.

Back at the docks, the fight between Phil and Flint raged on. But now, reinforcements had arrived.

The appearance of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles only added to the Sandman's mounting frustration. The sight of the four armored turtles, standing confidently alongside Phil, made Flint feel a genuine sense of dread.

"Surrender now," Phil said, standing on his flying skateboard, hovering a few meters off the ground. His voice carried a smug confidence, amplified by the mask covering his face.

The four turtles formed a defensive line beside him, their postures ready for battle.

"I'll never surrender!" Flint growled. His eyes darted to the freezing gun in Phil's hand, clearly wary of its power.

But then, Phil delivered a sharp verbal blow.

"If you die here," Phil said coldly, "I'll make sure your daughter finds a good foster family."

The words struck Flint like a hammer. His pupils shrank, and his entire body seemed to lose its strength. The defiance in him drained away as he slumped slightly.

"Wait!" Flint shouted. His scattered sand began to coalesce, swirling around him as he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Stop! I give up!"

Phil tilted his head, his tone laced with mockery. "Smart choice."

He gestured toward Donatello. "Donnie, I assume you brought the special electric-shock handcuffs?"

Donatello nodded, stepping forward with the cuffs in hand.

The Continental Hotel

Meanwhile, Justin Hammer had been brought to the hotel.

Realizing where he was, Justin's expression turned strange. "The High Table?" he murmured, looking around warily.

With a nervous laugh, he turned to his captors. "If it's money you want, I can pay you ten times what you're being offered. Do you know who I am? I can afford it. I'm the chairman of Hammer Industries!"

One of the Continental's men smirked. "The chairman of Hammer Industries is certainly generous," he said sarcastically.

Before Justin could respond, a familiar figure stepped into the room.

"You…" Justin's eyes widened in shock as he recognized the man.

"Anton Jameson! It's you!"

…

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