Aug. 16th, 2011 10:01 am
[identity profile]
Hitting the pavement, well the rooftops actually. It helps him think.

Moving from one shadow to the next, Tim uses the time to consider Batman and Nightwing's little interview with Icicle and Shrapnel. The infra-red recording of Mahkent during the interrogation had been informative and confirmed Tim's theory. Icicle's powers fluctuated when he lied. It made the playback review of the Q&A session a very interesting piece.

Icicle was small change in whatever was going on in Gotham however. Whoever he was answering to, they were careful and had done their homework. Their big advantage had been anonymity, and while their identities remained a question, their edge had now been eliminated. Their presence was now being factored in and it would only be a matter of time. So Robin was out to gather intelligence.

The excursion out to Gotham's rooftops and alleyways was a matter of patrol and ongoing training. A mugger here, car thief there, perhaps a cat burgler even, all of that was standard for the evening. The real research was happening invisibly. While Robin darted through Gotham's shadows, automated bots and search engines prowled the unseen byways of the virtual and electronic, collating and gathering specks of information as a web of finances, phone calls and fuzzy-logic 'guesses' were being compiled to reveal a better picture of their unseen adversary's movements.

In the meantime, there was Gotham and she needed his protection.
[identity profile]

"...Attention valued passengers. We have completed transition into Realspace and are now awaiting our gate window in the Alpha Centauri system. First and second class passengers may wish to gather in the observation deck for refreshments and a view of the stellar tide. Fourth class passengers must now return to their sleep closets.

Thank you for choosing Hyperion Spaceliners as your preferred mode of interstellar travel..."

A sea of chroma and vibrant color feasts the eye in a panoramic view of the solar system bellow as hot nebulae refract the unshielded rays of the central star. Safe behind the filter of a transparent barrier, privileged passengers enjoy the vista as the crew makes ready for the next leg of their journey to the capital planet of the league of United Planets, Earth.

Clad in unassuming black, staff mill among the guests dispensing libations and an assortment of aperitifs noted for their multi-species appeal. The interim in travel is capitalized upon by a string quartet playing near the central bar of the observation deck.

Earth #8

Jul. 31st, 2011 04:11 pm
[identity profile]
Professor Hank Henshaw stands in his lab, working on the quantum ring device he and his wife had been building over these past three years. Terri had just left the lab to see their little boy, brought into the visitor area by his grandparents no doubt. Hank smiles. Such a bright kid, with such a brave new world ahead of him. Lord Havok and the Extremists locked away in the sciencells of the Lantern Corps, Earth at peace for the first time in an age.

He's about to rearrange some circuitry on the ring when a deafening crack behind him makes him stand upright. No machinery back there. That was the sound of someone breaking the speed of sound. His right hand goes for a screwdriver; the only weapon to hand. Hopefully if some malign speedster has broken into the lab he's completely ignored Terri and her parents.

"Whoever you are, this is a government facility. Security will be here in seconds." He slips the screwdriver into his sleeve and slowly turns around to see a man clad in tight scarlet and gold, and another dressed as one of the now defunct Green Lantern Corps.
[identity profile]
After the auditions for new 'assistants' the Joker resolved that Harley was ultimately his best choice (for now) and decided to hit the town with his big breasted jester. It had been a while since Gotham had been exposed to the Joker's own unique kind of caper, so he decided that something big, sparkly and generally offensive would be the order of the day.

Striding purposefully through the abandoned Boco's Circus, the Maestro of Mirth comes to a halt at the old wooden roller-coaster, decommissioned after far far far far far too many accidents occurred with passengers flying out of cars, cars flying off of tracks and pieces of the track just plain old collapsing beneath cars.

Why it stayed in service for two decades, the Joker would never know.

Leaning on one of the rickety old cars he leers in at the passengers chained to the seats. There are no handles or seatbelts in these coasters; just good old gravity. And these passengers are in for one hell of a ride. "I know you didn't expect to find yourself at Boco's Circus, but it's your own damn fault for not questioning why your bus driver was replaced with a buxom blonde with a sometime irritatingly nasal tone at the last service station stop. So shame on you! Still, look at the view into old Gotham town over yonder." He points vaguely into the distance.

The Joker grins, and pats one of the old tourists in front of him on the shoulder, almost in a reassuring manner. "This old circus is one of Gotham's finest. You may have seen it on Coaster Crazy on CBS, Thrillseekers on ABC, We're Going to Die on TTFN or even Sites of Extreme Violence on HBO-" he raises an eyebrow at an old lady in paisley, "- I doubt you could afford that one, dear. Needless to say, this is a place of some ill repute, and it, and you, will shortly be headline news on CNN! Behold!"

The Clown Prince of Crime raises his arms and a curtain drops from behind the roller-coaster, revealing a huge coiled spring with a large boxing glove on the end of it. "This device contains enough power to launch this coaster all of the way from Boco's to the heart of Gotham's thriving downtown! And as little Timmy looks up from the high street to see what he thinks is a shooting star making odd screaming sounds he'll see a wonderful, handsome, and of course, smiling clown's face on the front of it as it comes careening out of the sky into mother, father, and little Toto too! The Joker hath arrived!!"

He bows and smiles at the tourists who are all beginning to shout and scream. "No yelling yet. You'll need your voices for the journey ahead! But in order to save this moment for posterity, I have it being fed live onto some website now that I forget the name of!" He waves at a few clowns sitting on the sidelines, each holding camera phones.

"So say your goodbyes, people of..." He edges closer again, "where did you say you were from again?"
[identity profile]
In Cannes, citizens run out into the street to stare at the sky-- and then back into their homes, to turn on televisions or radios or check the news for any mention of an eclipse. For out of all explanations for the fact that night has fallen-- early, swiftly, and utterly-- that of a natural event is by far the least worrying.

There is no hint of moon, no sign of star, only a velvet night that is unseasonably cool. Electric lights glow weakly, as if struggling to break through the all-encompassing dark.

Read more... )
[identity profile]
 Captain Maggie Sawyer had been in a foul mood for awhile now. First that lunatic Johnny Sorrow killed nearly everyone working at Blackgate, unleashing it's criminals on the populace. Second that crazy preacher put the whole city under some kind of mind control in the name of some alien god. She'd been about to put a hole through that flaming psycho, Doctor Phosphorus', head when Sorrow reappears and backhands her into unconsciousness. And during that time the GCPD building was destroyed, forcing them to regroup elsewhere. And as if to add insult to injury, this new drug craze took root and now if she was hearing things right another new syndicate was making moves into Gotham. Does it ever fucking stop?

Maggie was currently taking a break, neither the albino nor the metal man were saying anything relevant.
[identity profile]
John isn't one to pay attention to the tabloids. Had he not heard Renee on the phone to someone while he and Chas were having a drink, he might not have known at all.

But then, he might have. He likes to keep tabs on Selina, after all.

Citizens of East End may be curious as to just when they got a Cat-signal to match Gotham proper's Bat-one, but John likes to send his messages in style. Luckily it isn't hard. A couple scraps of paper and a high-powered flashlight, with just a little more juice added, and it works well enough. Time to see how long it takes to be noticed.
[identity profile]
There are strange things happening with Diana's gods and not the Flash says one of them is in Keystone. The odds are on it being Hermes, though when Zatanna teleports them into town, she doesn't see anyone that looks like Hermes at all.

Frowning, she turns around in a circle before starting to head up into the air. Something has come through here but it isn't right here, right now.

"Be on your guard."
[identity profile]
Once Lex had stabilized, there was nothing else to be done - while the Guardians of the Universe had taken enough interest to arrest the man once, no such orders were forthcoming this time, and the Justice League has no solid evidence of him doing anything that's actually against the laws on Earth. Even the attempted murder of Superman would be a hard sell, given the lack of recorded footage, and any attempt to prosecute would just raise questions about Batman's absence that no one wanted to have answered.

So the task had fallen to Beetle - Lex was to be handed over to the FBI, with a written report from the League on the circumstances of his recovery. The FBI would likely do some routine processing and release the man.

Some days, this job sucks.

The League transporters deposit Beetle near the FBI Office in Washington, D.C. - pushing Lex in a wheelchair.
[identity profile]
Tobias Whale's eyes scanned over the reports given to him by Mindancer and Shokwave regarding their encounters with the so-called Chemists. It certainly hadn't gone as well as he hoped, but it wasn't all bad either. The intervention of the damn capes was unexpected, though perhaps it should not have been. Tobias made a mental note to include their meddling in future plans. Despite the chaos, the Gotham Towers job went relatively well. True Captain nazi broke from Mindancer's control, but he'd remember nothing and the 100 was better off without such a loose cannon. The Body Doubles and the Spook had performed exemplarly, bringing back information on the group. The Doubles named Doctor Death is the mastermind and Spook had brought back intell on the various fronts and on the drugs themselves. Interestingly it seemed the stuff was hidden in legitimate medicine, it wasn't sold pure at all! All in all, a very sucessful operation.

The East End part however had not gone nearly as well. Icicle and Shrapnel were now in police custody, but Whale knew he didn't have to worry. Both men had solid reputations as being reliable, neither e police nor the capes would learn too much. They'd learn about the 100's resurgence certainly, and that was fine, but little else. Whale made another note to have Icicle and Shrapnel freed as soon as possile. Perhaps a few of the plans Spook procured being sent to a few key officials would grease the wheels of justice, showing the 100's good will. However what Phobia and Brutale described at the warehouse troubled him. While doctor Death was known to deal in poisions and gases, the effects were more akin to fear and paranoia. And THAT was a different ballgame entirely.

Tomorrow Whale would be dropping by the reconstruction site of the Gotham PD building. He had various ideas to consider there. Also, this conflict with the Chemists had to be resolved soon. Whale needed to bring Wayne Enterprises down. He was certin it was the source of the Batman's arsenal. There was much work to do. Whale smirked to himself. Nothing worthwhile never came easy, but then again, it was half the fun.
[identity profile]
In the direction that Despero is pointing, the Khund army will see a small point that seems to be headed toward them...with another point almost immediately behind.

Soon enough, they realize that they're not human.

They're Martian.

And Kryptonian.

Where J'onn is flying, he gestures to Superman and speaks to his mind.

[identity profile]
Something very strange is happening in the dimension of Mount Olympus. If it can be called a dimension. It's difficult to describe really. One day it might be an interplanar realm, another it might be a country. One night it could be an island in an impossibly large sea, while another time it could be a kingdom in the clouds.

Either way, something strange is happening.

As Zeus lays sleeping in his oversized bed the powers of his fellow and subservient deities are disappearing. Disappearing may be too strong a word... They're relocating. A smile twitches on the face of the god of all gods as he dreams of what is happening. As he considers the trials that Diana of Themyscira will have to endure and conquer, with the powers of the gods inhabiting the bodies of her allies and enemies upon Earth.

Zeus is less than happy with the Wonder Woman's lack of constant supplication to his whims. Perhaps she needs to prove herself a champion once more... At any rate; Zeus sleeps, and he dreams of those who will take on the powers of the gods...
[identity profile]
Twenty minutes have passed since Dick told Barbara he would call her about the return of Batman. That is to say, the return of the guy that really belonged in the suit of the Dark Knight and not the young poser who'd rather be snapping off smart-ass comments and rocking the Nightwing costume.

A towel is draped loosely around his hips, hair dripping and ice pack against his left knee as he settles onto the bed in his old room at Wayne Manor and uses his thumb to dial Barbara's home number. He hurts all over...but he's smiling.
[identity profile]
After checking in at home, the Batman swings out into Gotham again - only a relatively short time remains before dawn, and most of the criminal element is starting to retreat into their respective hiding places. He makes his way into the crime-ridden East End - but even this neighborhood is beset with relative peace and calm this close to sunrise.

It had taken a little detective work to find the address, but he had to find Selina, to let her know he was alive - and to discuss the things she'd done thinking he wasn't.

It wasn't a conversation he looked forward to.

The safehouse located, he scales gracefully down to the window, unlatching it to let himself inside.
[identity profile]
Six hours of sleep. He'd sleep in if the roosters would let him. Life starts moving before sunup on the farm.

Lumbering out of bed, he splashes water on his face and looks around blearily for something to wear.
Ma has breakfast already on the table by the time he makes it to the kitchen. He grabs the funnies from Pa's paper and the family enjoys breakfast together, drawing strength from each other for the new day. A kiss on the head from Ma and a scratch on the head for Krypto.

Waiting by the tractor, he's joined by Pa and the two of them head out to the fields talking and laughing.

Family, it's everything.
[identity profile]
Six hours of sleep. Not bad. He had a late night, so it's nearly dawn now.
Shortly after waking, Tim is in the pool doing laps. It's a short workout and soon he's showered and finishing a breakfast of egg whites and steamed vegetables in solitude. He pops multivitamins with his water on the way out the door, slipping out of the manor like a ghost.

Pushing his motorcycle down the driveway, he coasts on the machine until he's a distance from the manor before starting the engine.

Off to Shiva's...
[identity profile]
Among individuals aged 20 to 35, drug overdoses are the third leading cause of premature death in Gotham City. The statistics are even higher than average in the East End. Most of those who survive the ordeal continue to abuse despite the experience. The terrible cycle, once started, rarely sees a happy conclusion. These past two weeks have been worse than usual. In the past fourteen days, she's lost four patients to drugs, all under the age of 25. From the set of symptoms present prior to death, Leslie knows she's lost four patients to the same drug. Meaningless deaths. All in the name of profit.

It makes her blood boil.
[identity profile]
It's roughly 3:30 in the morning when Connor touches down in the cornfields. His face feels bigger than it should be and it hurts to take more than shallow breaths.

Krypto lands next to him, the white dog constantly snuffling Connor with worried concern.

"It's okay buddy. I'm just... owwww." He holds his side until the sharp stabbing pain subsides and he can draw breath again.

Krypto looks at him dubiously and whines.

"Ok, I'm beat up, but we gotta do this."

What would take a few minutes normally ends up taking a better part of an hour as Connor painfully limps through his various chores on the farm. Come four thirty, he pounds home the last fence post and wearilly makes his way to the house.

Carefully they open the back door, taking care to be quiet. A shower would be REALLY nice, but his bed sounds way nicer. Hopefully he could make it to the bedroom without anyone noticing...
[identity profile]
Careening through space at a frightening velocity, Despero pierces Earth's atmosphere and begins to laugh maniacally as he starts his drop towards the landmass known as North America. Specifically, he targets the craft toward Washington D.C.

"Come and greet me Citizen Steel! Come and meet your doom!!" Despero begins his rapid descent towards the White House.
[identity profile]
Boco's Circus is one of an unfortunate few old carnival sites built on the outskirts of Gotham back when the city was trying to look appealing, snazzy and generally a fun place to be.

Boy, did that not work out.

All of the circuses were eventually abandoned. Corners had been cut in numerous places. Animal houses made of asbestos. Rollercoasters with foundations only an inch into the ground. Cabaret stages that had the annoying habit of collapsing. Ghost trains powered by the riders having to push the carts along with their feet... If Boco's Circus has been the Flintstones Circus, the motif may have been a success. As it was, the entire place and its surrounding competitors all died a death.

"Vaudeville is dead! Long live the crappy television talent show!!" The Joker jumps out onto one of the aforementioned cabaret stages and makes a quick hop again as a floorboard snaps beneath his feet. "Hoho! Nearly got me there! No, no pratfalls from the Joker tonight, my lords, ladies and gentlemen, no! Instead we see the best of the worst audition for the role that would make Donald Trump's latest slave green, or should that be greasepaint white, with envy! Yes, the interview from heaven, or maybe hell, to see who will be the Joker's next apprentice!!"

Music plays from the bandstand, a gramophone sat there being operated by a chimp. The Joker beams and bows to the west wing, to the east wing, to the people in the stalls, to the rabble in the front. And finally to the only actual person in attendance; Harley Quinn.

"What do you think, Harl? Shall we bring out the first poor sap?"


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