[identity profile] the-ambush-bug.livejournal.com
The phone rings loudly, echoing through the tiny apartment.

"Cheeks, can you get that?" comes the shouted response from the green-suited figure in the kitchen, busily folding dishtowels into the shapes of various superhero insignias.
[identity profile] mr-henshaw.livejournal.com
Across planet Earth on every major television network, every radio and every live stream using satellites to broadcast, the head and shoulders of the Cyborg Superman appears. Using his mastery over technopathy he broadcasts his message.

"People of Earth. Some few of you may know me as Hank Henshaw. I am also known to many as the Cyborg Superman. To most however, I am seen as the destroyer of Coast City."

The backdrop behind Henshaw's face turns to an image of the emblem of Neo Rann, rippling as if in the wind. "Not long ago I was released from my imprisonment on Oa by the Green Lantern Guardians, who assured me of my freedom. Wanting to start a new life for myself and for my friends, fellow outsiders, we met with representatives from species all over the known galaxy. It was made clear to us that a great threat existed in the universe, and this threat was known as Rann. A planet whose technology rivals even that of the beings that invaded Gotham City in your United States of America in recent months. With charters from multiple intelligent races and conglomerates I ended the Rannian threat, and occupied their abandoned territory."

An image of Neo Rann's position in the galaxy compared to that of Earth replaces the emblem. "Neo Rann poses no threat to planet Earth. We simply wish to build a home for outsiders such as myself. Yet at this very moment we are under attack by so-called heroes of Earth, including Green Lanterns who had until recently condoned my freedom." Henshaw raises a fist. "Once again I say we pose no threat to Earth, but were Earth attacked would you not make a retributive strike? I want it to be known that if the hand of Neo Rann is forced against Earth it is a reluctant gesture, and one forced by the aggression of your metahumans and the galactic vigilante squad known as the Green Lantern Corps. Any deaths on your world due to Neo Rann's reprisals can be laid at their doors. I offer peace providing they withdraw from Neo Rann this very instant."

Henshaw clenches his jaw and a solitary tear rolls down his cheek. "Please make them stop the violence, for we do not wish to harm anybody upon your planet. If we are forced to take actions, the blood is on the hands of the men and women you call your heroes. All we want is peace."

The transmission is cut, and back on Neo Rann the image of Henshaw turns to Malefic and smiles.


What do the people of Earth think of this?
[identity profile] jl-metropolis.livejournal.com
"Hi, I'm Louie Lebowski, and I welcome you one and all to the first episode in the new series of You! Are! Wrong!!!" The studio audience applauds, cheers and hoots as the purple-suited host punches the airs and jogs the the sparkling podium of the new set for You Are Wrong, the pre-eminent national scandal show.

The audience dies down as Lebowski raises the microphone to his mouth again. "Well a lot has been going on while we've been off the air, and woo let me tell you we had a lot to say about these things. Talk of aliens in Gotham, reports of costumed heroes and costumed villains side by side and a host of other outlandish goings-on nationwide. You can catch all of our opinions in our highly successful podcast, where we interview people who escaped and endured throughout the turmoil in that bleak city, and even conduct a controlled chat with the infamous King Tut from his cell in Arkham. It's a hoot, I tell you what!"

Turning to face Camera B, Louie sweeps his hair back and grins. "But now onto present day and the jewel of our United States; the city of Metropolis. Not all is peachy in the City of Tomorrow as talk of a new drug corrupting the youth of today has spread far and wide. Deaths caused by overdose and children procuring these candy-like capsules only to end up in hospital in uncontrollable frenzy has caused concern far and wide, and in this episode of You Are Wrong we talk to some concerned (and influential) Metropolis citizens about what exactly is going on in the wonderful city of Superman!"

The audience applauds again as Louie jogs across the studio, the panel section of the set lighting up to reveal his three guests. He grins at all three in turn, sweeps his hair (again), and turns to wink at the camera. "These drugs, known on the street as Destiny, Hero, Craze and Paradiso have different effects on their users. Destiny supposedly imbues a far-sighted awareness, Hero makes you feel invulnerable, Craze makes you hellish intense and Paradiso sends you into a conscious dreamlike state. All have vicious and in some cases deadly side-effects. One suspected drug kingpin of Gotham, Alonzo Torquemada, has gone on record as saying that all of these new designer drugs are putting the heroin and cocaine dealers out of business, so now we turn to our panel." The spotlight is turned solely onto the guests. "What is Metropolis doing to combat this influx of new drugs? Is the source suspected? Will we re-enter Reagan's era of a War on Drugs?"
[identity profile] futuregoldenboy.livejournal.com
Booster Gold wasn't really generally a man who went on patrol very often. Because, really, Superman likes to do that, and why would I want to take fun away from him?

Okay, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he usually went out flying when he wanted to clear his mind, or just to get a little exercise in. Or escape Gladys and her need for me in the disco thong, he mused as he swooped around over Suicide Slum and turned back towards the New Troy area of Metropolis.

Today he wasn't really avoiding Gladys, though. If anything, he should've been home with Gladys instead of swooping around. She'd gotten sick lately, and Booster was pretty sure that Gladys was coming this close to kicking the bucket. Which is terrible, really. Sprock, she's the closest thing I have to a mother...you know, I'm just not gonna finish that thought.

He swooped around the New Troy area, and everything seemed to be at peace. No Toyman, no Metallo, none of Metropolis' usual rogues. Not even the painfully hot Volcana. Literally painfully hot. Disappointing, really, he mused as he landed on the globe atop the Daily Planet building. He liked to stand in it sometimes, striking a superheroic pose and just whirling around in place as he took in the sights and sounds of Metropolis. It really was his favourite city on Earth. Except for Las Vegas. And maybe Miami. I really like Amsterdam too. Okay, so Booster had a lot of favourite places. You would too if you could fly all over the world.

He waited there for a minute, watching Metropolis, and decided against loitering. He took off again, soaring into the air and doing another circle around Metropolis.

Just in case anything was going on which could take his mind off of Gladys.

As he circled one of the more expensive apartment buildings in New Troy, he heard a little boy call out, "Look Mom, it's Green Lantern!"
[identity profile] dr-baxter.livejournal.com
Dr. Elizabeth Baxter was on her way home from a long, hard night at Metropolis General Hospital. Yes, it was late, and dark, but the young doctor didn't think anything of taking some of the seedier alleys in order to get home sooner. First, she was too tired to think clearly, and second, fear of Superman tended to make most petty criminals think twice before doing anything stupid in this city.

Her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, the sweet blonde walked through an alley towards one of the convenience stores near the hospital. Wearing simple jeans, a red t-shirt, and with her hair in a ponytail, she was craving some late-night coffee. Call it a common vice in her profession.

As she stepped towards the end of the alley, however, she felt something hard and cold poke into the small of her back. Behind her, a short, pudgy man in a brown overcoat held the barrel of a snub-nosed revolver against her.

"Gimme yer purse, and your jewelry, and nobody gets hurt, sweetheart." He sneered sickly. "Although... lookin' like you do... no promises there."

Elizabeth cursed under her breath, and slowly put her hands up. What the hell was she going to do?
[identity profile] theylied-tous.livejournal.com
Lonnie Machin, AKA Anarky, is a difficult person to find. Mostly because he's supposed to be dead.

The apartment he's living in is technically supposed to be unoccupied, which technically makes him a squatter, but he doesn't feel particularly guilty about that. Why should people have to pay money for shelter, anyway? His electricity is stolen, but he doesn't use much anyway - his stove is solar-powered, made from cardboard boxes and tinfoil rescued from dumpsters. A small garden, planted in deep wooden boxes he made from lumberyard scraps, occupies a large corner of the apartment. It's fertilized with compost, and everything possible to compost is composted, from leftovers to Lonnie's own, ahem, human waste. (Why contribute to the already-overburdened and poorly managed sewage treatment system?) His food budget is zero - what he can't get from dumpsters or shoplift, he grows, and if he can't get it any of those three ways, he does without.

It is not an easy way to live, but he doesn't mind. It's been a while since he felt like he had his priorities straight, but he's starting to feel that way these days.

He has no phone, but he does have a computer (which he built himself, from stolen electronics) and it's not hard to find an open wireless network. He just has to watch the size of files he wants to bittorrent. And having access to e-mail makes it easier for people who need him to find him.

He has become something of the go-to guy for the people in nearby squats (there are more than you might think in Gotham, and they are generally a pretty tight network) for just about any type of highly-skilled labor. Lately, he's been teaching impromptu classes on installing and repairing electrical wiring. It wasn't hard to learn - nothing has ever been hard for him to learn, to be honest - and it's fun to teach.

It helps him to stave off the feeling that he's being somewhat idle. He has to remind himself often that he's merely waiting.

Bigger things are on their way, if his new contact is half as good as he thinks he is. In the meantime, Lonnie is doing something he hasn't done in a long time, as he dons his red cloak and gold mask and tucks bottles of spray paint into his backpack, preparing for a night of DIY troublemaking, with The Vandals playing on his homemade mp3 player.

He's having fun.
[identity profile] jl-scoundrels.livejournal.com
"Egg-cellence, my little chicks, pure egg-cellence." Egghead stalked around the room as his henchmen pointed their scrambler guns at the warehouse staff. 

"You see, in these boxes are the rarest emerald eggs to have ever been found in the Azt-egg ruins of Eggzalipoctla, an historic and fine nation, that once worshiped the humble egg like a god. And now all of them, and all their secret powers, are mine! And I shall use them in my egg-speriments, to discover the hideout of that most rotten egg of all! Batman!"

Battery, Free Range and Runny all laugh along with their boss. "Now for the most egg-squisite part of all. You warehouse workers shall load these boxes, carefully mind you, into my van, the Dairy Egg-Spress. Oh the irony of it! You will assist in my grand crime! Hee haa haa haa haa! Egg!"
[identity profile] the-ambush-bug.livejournal.com
You'd have to be a fool or some kind of hermit to have missed the news - Solomon Grundy was running wild, everywhere! In fact, even a few fools had managed to hear about the goings-on.

Ambush Bug smacks a copy of the Daily Planet morning edition with the back of his hand.

"You see, Cheeks? This is our shot at the big time! Grundy's one of the really nasty ones. He fought the Justice League of America, and Infinity Inc., and the Justice Society of America.. and I think he even crashed a Daughters of the American Revolution bridge game, once! If we take down Grundy, we'll be a shoo-in for a team."

Grabbing his trusty, but inanimate, sidekick, Ambush Bug teleports out into the streets of Metropolis to hunt down a Grundy.
[identity profile] deadmanbrand.livejournal.com
"Geez Louise," says Boston Brand as he floats above the encroaching hoarde of zombies making their way down Siegal Avenue (near the corner of Siegal & Shuster). "I coulda sworn zombies were over months ago. Ah, well. Whattaya gonna do?"

He slams himself into one of their undead bodies, and begins taking swings at the others.

"God works in mysterious ways. Women."
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
They do this a few times a year. Normal citizens - the unenlightened - in all cities that there is a church dedicated to the wisdom of Brother Blood, and even some which don't, get their doors knocked on -

Well before noon.
[identity profile] mari-grayson.livejournal.com
There is no moment of silence, when so many are gathered to discuss the state of the multiverse, but there comes a time when the conversation is not quite so noisy. Nightstar flies above the heads of the attendees, landing before a draped painting. Judging by the size, the attendees may wonder if the hidden work is a lifesized portrait, but of who? Those most familiar with the Dreaming, and the Endless, may think of the paintings lining Dream's gallery, and what they are used for.

"Excuse me," Nightstar says politely, waiting until all (or at least most) have focused their attention on her. "Dream said that he would be willing to let you all have glimpses in the dreams of those who dwell in the multiverse. I'm afraid you won't be allowed to make any requests, and the glimpses may not last very long." She smiles ruefully. "I also don't know how much use you'll get out of what you see, but ... please pay attention?"

With that, she pulls the veil aside, revealing that the frame is, at first glance, empty.

And then the frame fills with images....
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
Midnight. 12AM. 0:00. O Dark Hundred.

Most find themselves in warm beds at this hour, buried deep in hazy slumber. For many, it has been a long, tiring year. Many are weary, but for some, sleep doesn't come.

In the darkness, in the stillness, and sometimes, yes, even in the shadows, there are things still awake and moving. Some are restless. Some are working. Some have nothing better to do.

All things alive or aware, awake or asleep, can feel the blood in their ears at this hour. A new day is coming and the world is waiting for it.
[identity profile] old-saint-nick.livejournal.com
There is some debate within mystical circles if there is indeed such a creature as the embodiment of Christmas Giving known as Santa Claus. But whether or not there is such a being, the spirit of giving itself is very real, be it incarnated in a fat man in a red suit or not.

Throughout this small blue planet of Earth, people have brought trees into their homes, decorated them with lights and ornaments, and placed them in locations of honor. Stockings have been placed on the chimneys. But most of all -- in the spirit of community and giving -- people have placed gifts under the tree.

Some are looking forward more to the receiving than the giving. But for many, it is the act of giving which warms them, which fills them with the holiday spirit.

Each person, in their own way, becomes a part of this spirit of giving. Each person, in their own way, becomes Santa Claus.
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
Ambush Bug has just been thrown out of a the first informal "meet and greet," of the Ross administration. Inside there is music, champagne, and a lot of heated debate in polite terms.

Outside, there's a lot of men with guns and dark suits knocking out other men in better quality dark suits at a rapid clip.
[identity profile] mrs-dibny.livejournal.com
Sue was always closer to her two weird uncles than she ever was to the rest of the family - even her own parents. Uncle Manny died before she met Ralph but he gave her three very valuable abilities: the ability to speak (and swear in) Yiddish, the ability to play poker and figure odds for the ponies, and, lastly, an appreciation for who did what in government and to watch where the votes and money went in any given situation. Once you got used to it, it was a lot like playing with the high rollers in Atlantic City - politics, breeding, violence, smiles, and some seriously brilliant con jobs. How Diana walked around these things with that TRUTH thing she has, Sue will never be able to fathom. Most of these people do know what it is, but, like poker, you really do need to bluff a little against those like Luthor who constantly deal from the bottom of the deck.

Thank God it's Pete these days. Let the clean up begin.

Tonight's agenda is a ambassadorial mixer with the cabinet along with a few more higher ups. These are more dangerous rooms then the shark tanks at SeaWorld at feeding time but oh, so fun. She passes on the oysters in favor of the caviar and scans the place to look in on who's chatting with whom.
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
It had already been a trying 24 hours or so for the nurses.

It had started with the new superflu. Or so they had thought, even though it began a couple weeks after the onset of the superflu was recorded. The kids in the ward were getting sick. Chills, vomiting - it was heart-sickening to see the kids so miserable.

Then the symptoms intensified. Children cried for their mothers. One had fallen into a coma. The emergency room soon began to overflow with similar cases.

That morning, one of the children in the unit, who had already been battling AIDS, died, less than 24 hours after getting sick. The other kids were hanging in there, but most of the nurses and doctors were already pulling double shifts.

This is what's happening in one of the many hospitals in San Francisco. The scene is the same at other hospitals as well.

In Gotham.


Star City.

New York City.



Opal City.

Central City.

Keystone City.

St. Roch


And on. And on. And on.
[identity profile] lexcorp-media.livejournal.com
GOTHAM (LP) - Reaction was generally negative to Judge Henry Broaddek's decision allowing the infamous criminal known only as the Joker the freedom to pursue establishment of a religion of his choosing.

"Look, I'm not a Joker fan either," said the judge after chambers had closed, "but this is a pretty obvious Constitutional issue. We have a system of laws designed to protect the rights of every citizen, and the Joker - near as we can tell - is an American citizen. Even if he wasn't, the First Amendment's protections extend to non-citizens anyway. So there's no cause to disallow it - especially since the Joker has never even been convicted of a crime."

For safety reasons, reporters were prevented from directly questionining the Joker. However, as he was escorted to the Arkham Asylum security vehicle, he loudly proclaimed that his religion would be "like The Sound of Music, except with more Nazis and less nuns." He then laughed at some length until he was driven away.

GCPD representatives were reticient when questioned...
[identity profile] lexcorp-media.livejournal.com


a Planet Exclusive by Clark Kent and Lois Lane

Billions of dollars originally appropriated to defense contracts given by the U.S. Government to Lexcorp have been traced to clandestine accounts based out of the National Bank of Bialya, one of the leading countries previously singled out by President Luthor as among our greatest enemies in the war on terror.

According to financial documents obtained by Planet staff, the funds that had been earmarked for Lexcorp never made it there.  Research uncovered the funds being transferred into an unknown account that, sources in the White House say, was originially a CIA account used in various security campaigns waged by the organization.  From there, the funds were then transferred to Bialya, then out to some other accounts, the owners of which had not been uncovered as of press time.  Still, the idea of billions of dollars being funneled away from the U.S. Treasury in this fashion was troubling to one of the sources for this story.

"The contracts had been approved by Congress and signed by the President himself.   It mystifies me how this could have happened.  It's not like we hire Jackson Hewett to oversee the books or anything."

Although spokespeople for President Luthor and for Lexcorp couldn't be reached as of presstime, another member of White House Staff, speaking under condition of anonymity, said that it was... (Cont. on Page 2)

On Patrol

Sep. 14th, 2006 08:35 am
[identity profile] the-ambush-bug.livejournal.com
Ambush Bug lurks atop the Gaylemore building, eyes sweeping the streets for any signs of crime.. or litter. Mustn't forget litter. He had a special mission tonight - practicing his ability to narrate in the third person.

"Works a lot better since I stopped saying it out loud.."
[identity profile] the-ambush-bug.livejournal.com
Ambush Bug whistles as he walks briskly along in the uniform of a delivery man - the uniform is his own, he's been moonlighting to make a little extra cash. However, the delivery is a personal one.

"It's not every day a pal turns.. er.. whatever age. I mean, for any specific age, he can only turn it once!"

He's not sure if the birthday boy is home, but he rings the doorbell nonetheless, setting the package down on the porch.


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