[identity profile] gotham-gargoyle.livejournal.com
The so-called 'Suicide Slum' district of Metropolis doesn't really fit in with the rest of the city. The gleaming skyscrapers and clean streets give way to a grimier existence that resembles Gotham City more than it does Metropolis.

Funny how that doesn't make the Batman feel any more at home.

The Batmobile is parked nearby, it's stealth systems activated to avoid drawing any spectators as he sifts through the burnt-out husk of a bay-side warehouse. Until its fiery demise a few months ago, it had been owned by a shell company, owned by another shell company, owned by a third shell company - but years before that, when it had been built, its owners were a little less careful about the companies hired to do the construction. Companies with ties to the once-powerful crime syndicate called 'the 100.'

Those companies were gone, now, too. Toppled in one investigation or another over the years. The 100 was believed to be defunct as well, so the fire at this warehouse hadn't raised any red flags to the Metropolis Police.

He'd followed colder trails.
[identity profile] gcpd-mcu.livejournal.com
 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] gotham-gargoyle.livejournal.com
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] gotham-gargoyle.livejournal.com
After picking up one of the stashed motorcycles he'd hidden around the city, the Batman has made his way back home - through the cave entrance, of course. With any luck, he's preceded Dick by more than a minute. One of the downsides of the Batmobile is its comparative lack of maneuverability.

The security system recognizes his access codes, and he pulls onto the elevated parking bay, setting the cycle's kickstand and sliding off.

"Computer. Display recent casefile summaries."

Yes, he was here to see Alfred and Tim, but a quick peek at recent events would only take a few seconds.
[identity profile] aflyinggrayson.livejournal.com
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Three shots score the Batman's cape as he twists agilely out of the way of the trio of armor-piercing rounds. The downside of avoiding those rounds is that his dive carries him over the side of the Wayne Memorial Birdge, with some choppy, cold, and unpleasant water a few hundred feet below.

He truly, truly does not want to experience that drop and the bay waters below; his need to prove his toughness simply does not extend that far. A hand raises, a grappling hook rockets upward, and a moment later the fall is halted halfway into his plummet. He let's out a grunt before starting the powered ascent. Above him, the three Falcone thugs trying to kill him a moment earlier open fire once again, and he has to swing under the bridge proper to avoid getting hit. A splash below marks the loss of the grappling gun, but better it than him His arms wrap around a steel girder, eyes closing wearily as he thinks over his next move; above him, the thugs argue about what hit the water and where the Bat went.

The rest period lasts for slightly less than five seconds before Batman crawls over the beam and up the side opposite of the one from which he fell a moment earlier. All three thugs are bent forward, looking at the water and trying to peer under the bridge, making a trio of easy targets. Within a minute of his dive off the side of the bridge, the Falcone heavies are unconscious on the pavement, tied by taser-powered bolas.

Batman calls the GCPD before disappearing into the night once more. Three baddies down, about a zillion left to go.

His job sucks.
[identity profile] gotham-gargoyle.livejournal.com
Less than an hour ago, he was trapped inside the world's smartest supercriminal, their minds tethered together by strange dimensional energy. His friends and allies had been able to separate him from Lex Luthor without killing either of them - no mean feat.

Forty-five minutes ago, he arrived in the infirmary, courtesy of Guy Gardner's power ring, completely exhausted and unconscious - the strain of fighting with Luthor for control while at the same time maintaining his own sense of self had taken its toll. Monitoring devices were affixed, and his body scanned for lingering damage. His condition was still uncertain - no one wanted to prematurely announce the news of his return until they were certain he was stable.

Twenty minutes ago, his subconscious mind awoke once more, fighting to remember something essential - something he had to do, and soon. Visions of a planet overrun by technology gone mad filled his dreams.

And five seconds ago, his eyes opened.

"Get me the Flash."
[identity profile] azure-avenger.livejournal.com
After the rescue party's return and some subsequent revelations, the Justice League has assembled to discuss the significance of those revelations - and verify their truth.

"I've scanned him every way I can, and everything I do tells me the same thing - 'Lex' is telling the truth. He's not insane, he's not lying. Batman is really in there, his body out of phase, and his mind enmeshed with Luthor. Honestly, I'd say this is one of our best-case scenarios - but it's still not good. By my calculations, we have a limited amount of time to get Batman back to normal before he fades away entirely."

Contact...

Nov. 27th, 2009 04:48 pm
[identity profile] man-of-stee-ll.livejournal.com
Luthor's hands dance rapidly over one of the keyboards, his eyes darting back and forth to scan figures as they arrive.

"and...and....here, and...that's IT! I've found it! The genetic sequencing is almost flawless! A perfect match!" His bloodshot gaze turns to the Phantom Stranger. "And you're going to bring her through, ghost. I told you...I'd find a way, and through you...this is done. Now bring her in..."

Lex slams his fist upon a button, beginning a energy whirlwind outside of his base. The molecules remaining from the universal blast earlier begin to swirl and slowly draw towards it.

"With you as a siphon, and my research, I've done it. All this time, all this effort...I've beaten it. I AM the balance between death...and life." A quick wipe of the face, and a sleep-deprived shudder pause him for a moment, before he continues.

"All stations...prepare for retrieval. Contact is made, and siphoning begins immediately."
[identity profile] man-of-stee-ll.livejournal.com
"All units on the ready. Hold your positioning until further notice. And to all of you, I send my deepest appreciations. We're doing work of the Gods now, and as I promised before, you'll be legendary..."

Luthor sends his communique through Calculator, and relays through his three location captains. With that, he's back to his windows, and watching the remnants of the blown universe filter through. Soon, it will be enough.
[identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/
Not his ideal venue, not his first choice of a secure environment, but if Stephanie is more - or less - than what she seems, Batman could scarcely find a place with better access to the world's most powerful beings than the JLA Watchtower. The place also houses mystics and a damned good telepath in the Martian Manhunter. Here he can get answers.

A hand on Spoiler's shoulder the whole way, Batman barely twitches in the aftermath of the stomach-twisting teleporter trip, and once they're in place (perhaps the very second he is solid enough to move) he starts long-legged strides toward the conference room.

"Don't touch a damned thing or say a damned thing without permission," he advises in a low growl that implies at the end, or else.

But once they're at the conference room? He lets her go in alone.
[identity profile] spoilersteph.livejournal.com
She's been at this for awhile now. Keeping to herself by day, not going out much, coming out night, going out on a brief patrol-staying strictly on ground-, breaking up a mugging or two, then turning in for the evening, only to repeat her routine the next day.

An incident not to long ago had the wheels in Steph's head turning...she'd stayed underground for too long. Cass has been more than helpful, not telling anyone about her whereabouts, checking in on her every now and then to make sure that she was holding up okay...finding her old costume...

Ever since she's came back, Stephanie's been all about not getting caught when she goes "out".

Tonight is different though. Tonight, she wants to be found.

Which is why she made a big deal breaking up that hold-up at that mini-mart two blocks back. And why she's in an area that she knows a select few people keep an eye on...

Tonight is all about letting everyone know-

Spoiler's back.
[identity profile] azure-avenger.livejournal.com
It's Ted's turn on monitor duty, and there's going to be an interview for a new Leaguer today, so the job of making sure everything's in order for that falls to him by default. The fast food wrappers get moved from the meeting table to the incinerator - totally not cheating on his heart-healthy diet, honest! - and he prepares the teleporters for incoming arrivals.

Thirty minutes to go.
[identity profile] scream-and-cry.livejournal.com

"Good evening, Gotham City." The words that cut into every television across Gotham this night, and reveal the familiar and incredibly creepy masked face of the Scarecrow on every screen, dead centre, and utterly void of emotion.

"First of all, allow me to apologise for interrupting your viewing pleasure this evening. I'm sure it must be sheer terror to not get your fix of Desperate Housewives, or the Simpsons, or whatever it is people watch these days, but I promise I will make it worth it. In fact, it will have to be worth it, because to interrupt these signals I had to spend an awful lot of money. I'm doing this for you. For your benefit." He leans towards the camera. "Be grateful."

There's something strange about the Scarecrow's voice tonight. Almost like it's through a synthesiser to make it deeper and more ominous. "So now the why. Over the past few months I have ostensibly been living a legitimate life, investigating potential embezzlements, scaring off blackmailers, and looking into tawdry affairs. Oh, and Mr. Joseph Freeman? Your wife is cheating on you. With a midget. I laughed, anyway." He leans back now, and puts the tips of his fingers together in an arch.

"But yes, the why. I... Am not going to tell you. You can all reach your own conclusions to be honest, and putting it down to a persistent psychopathy would probably be the soundest opinion. But I am not wasting my hard stolen cash just to appear on television, oh no. I have also been hiring over twenty lunatics, most of them former patients of mine, and all of whom have successfully just kidnapped every baby from every maternity ward across Gotham, and brought them to me as I started this little show. A little misdirection goes a long way, in show business." He chuckles, and the mask visibly goes in as he inhales, his eyes dark pits through the burlap.

"I can feel the panic now. The worry of every mother, father, doctor, nurse, hospital trustee who is wondering "How do I explain the hiring of these former gang members on my staff!" and so on, but also the fear. Oh, yes, the fear. If I told you the feelings I feel when I think of the delightful outpouring of shock and awe, our two favourite words in this great nation, all directed at me... I would be taken off your televisions. I love the idea of you screaming, you crying, you wondering what this evil man is going to do to your poor children, and here's the dealbreaker-"

He removes his hat, and places it on one finger, twirling it around. "- I can do whatever I want with them. Dump them in the river? Sure. Feed them to Killer Croc? Why not. Help Zsasz with his scores? Almost certainly. All I ask of you is a simple thing. Every name of every baby will flash up on the screen once I'm done, with a value underneath it. I'm a fair man, and every ransom is meetable for each of the family involved. For instance," he picks up an identity tag, that was once on a baby's leg, "young Vincent Shore, $800,000. His parents are lawyers. And young Julie Angel Ramone?" He moves this tag closer to his eyeline. "I should really wear my glasses... $23,000. Her mother is single, and works as a waitress when she gets an opportunity. And Angel is an ridiculous middle name. I can't stand all of that new-age nonsense."

"Paying these ransoms couldn't be simpler. Call the number at the bottom of the screen, and you'll get through to one of my polite and well-trained operators, who will take your bank details and link them up to one of my offshore Oolong Island accounts. Your baby will be delivered safe and sound, and with a copy of my book, "Why the world needs Batman", which really sold quite well. All of you who bought it, helped fund this show, so thank you most heartily." He puts his hat back on.

"Finally, to Batman, Robin, the GCPD etcetera. You can try and find me. I would love to see you try. This is of course a recorded message, as I wouldn't be stupid enough to have your infamous Oracle figure track my location through this broadcast. I'm off for a stroll personally, but calls can be put through to me if you beg long and hard. I'm Dr. Crane, Gotham City, and I'm listening."

The broadcast cuts off, showing the names of babies, to the sounds of their crying.

[identity profile] proto-humanist.livejournal.com
Several global news networks have sent representatives. His message will go out on channels all around the world. Putting a smile on his face, Vandal Savage steps out onto the stage that has been prepared. A large podium stands in front of his manor house on New Albion - and some of his new lieutenants already are waiting on the stage.

He steps up to the microphone and clears his throat - the assembled press corps falling silent and starting to feed his image to their home organizations.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. I am Vandal Savage. The world knows me as a villain - a regular opponent of the Justice Society of America. I do not deny this. The world knows me to be an ambitious man, who believes himself deserving of the rulership of the world. I do not deny that, either."

Savage pauses for effect, then continues.

"Some of you, then, may ask yourselves why would you accept the invitation I am extending. To join me on New Albion, where I intend to establish a nation of few laws and minimal taxes, where men and women are meant to live as free as they please. Some of you may be suspicious of my motives in doing so. However, all of you will remember the invasion of the alien alliance scant few years ago. The Dominators. The Khund. The Psions."

"I believe I am the only person who can lead the world through the alien attacks that will surely come in the future. I am, in a sense, the world's ultimate survivor. And I have a keen interest in seeing this world, and my own species, survive with me. For time beyond reckoning, I have sought to establish my leadership through conquest. Perhaps I could do so again - but I believe humanity's willing cooperation will be necessary to fight off future alien invasions, so I have decided to forgo my usual approach."

"New Albion will be a shining example of what humanity can do together. Its citizens will enjoy free health care and basic essentials; low tax rates; and the complete noninterference of government in matters such as freedom of speech, press, and religion. It will be a libertarian paradise, without sacrificing the quality of mercy for those less fortunate, thanks to the technology and techniques at my disposal. I have created this island, but I wish to share it with any of you willing to come."

He smiles.

"I will now take questions."
[identity profile] spirit-of-truth.livejournal.com
It had only taken Diana making a quick phone call one afternoon, and not long after she had set up a reservation for six at one of the more exclusive restaurants in Detroit.

She'd sent invites to Selina and Lois, two women that she admired greatly for long time. And if nothing else, it ought to make for fascinating dinner conversation.

"I have heard that this is an excellent restaurant, so I hope that none of you will be disappointed." She smiles at her dinner companions.
[identity profile] beastlyboy.livejournal.com
Somehow, the club just isn't as fun when one of your friends is flying there under eerie posthypnotic suggestion.

God, Gar, you're such a fuck up, he thinks to himself, looking down at his boots for a moment. There's a quick, fleshy sound, and a green mouse weaves between the stomping boots and snapping heels of the dancing wasted youth. Thump thump thump thump thump...verminous ears pick up a change in the beat that human ears would not, as Beast Boy scratches against one of the back walls of the fun house like building, pressing his claw to the mouse-size Titan transmitter to let his teammates know that he's found where the drop off point for whoever's making money off of these unwilling criminals is...

Back-up

Jun. 3rd, 2009 10:12 pm
[identity profile] able-cain.livejournal.com
Her orders tonight are simple. Rather than take a certain part of Gotham as usual, she's to make almost a full-sweep. Things have been weird lately, more than normal, and he is worried.

Just a quick stop. See if they're okay and keep moving.

She understands what he doesn't say. He worries. Things are unusual. Unpredictable. He has to be sure of everything to be what he is.

She stops in the East End first, where she recognizes the tell-tale sounds of light steps on brick. The steps have a rhythym, more so than with most of them. Catwoman on the prowl.

She waits, and listens.
[identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/
Not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse.

But whoever is on monitor duty might think he or she saw a ghost, or the shadow of a ghost, or the suggestion of a shadow of a ghost, on the security monitors. Funny, all the motion detectors and entrance records indicate the only people home are Titans.

Maybe it IS a ghost?
[identity profile] mistahjay.livejournal.com
At WayneTech, they called it 'The Office', often making spooky noises and arm motions in the tradition of school children everywhere. It was a massive door on the edge of a massive hallway with a few cheap wooden chairs in front of it. Everyone waited until they were called in. And, Jake realized, it had the same effect as if he were an eight year old waiting for the principal to have time to yell at him. The brown haired man, just starting to hit the troubles of middle age, looked over at the fuming face of his wife, Helen. The ambitious lawyer couldn't bring herself to show the pain she was feeling, he knew, so she retreated into that temper of hers instead. It was probably better than letting himself lose his head, Jake knew, but he still felt a little bad about it.

And what were this advertising consultant and his wife doing outside of the office? Well, Jake knew he would get in trouble for something some day, but he never thought...not the girls. He could still feel the cold lump of panic in his gut when he realized what his eldest daughter had done...

"At least no one got hurt." Jame murmured out loud, ignoring an urge to add a 'yet' onto that sentence. He was going to see Bruce Wayne himself, after all.

"...oh Jake." Helen was trying to sound furiously exasperated but, somehow, it came out more like a wimper than anything else. The couple shared a worried glance, and quietly held hands as they continued to wait.

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