by Dan Swanson
Later that day, alone in the Batcave, the Batman tempted both fate and the good will of long-vanished Thoth. A tool made for mortals should be easily used by mortals, should it not? “Forged by a god for the hand of a worthy mortal, commanded by word, guided by intent.” It seemed simple enough.
Cautiously, he unsheathed the Scepter of Thoth, though he knew it by another name. He thought for a long time, and decided on a simple and direct command. “Ibistick, protect Superman from future magical banishment!”
Would the Dark Knight pay for his presumption in the future? Only time would tell. He returned the artifact to its secure cache, and headed out on his nightly patrol.
The End