[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] canary-noir.livejournal.com
Canary kept her balance on Green Lantern's floating platform as they moved towards Gotham, cellphone in hand.  She told Babs she was looking into something and disabled her communicator so that her friend wouldn't know until later who Dinah was calling in.  Special treatment was one thing, but the last thing she wanted to do was get Babs busted with her dad like a teenager that stayed out too late.  And considering the fact that Barbara had been just that, maybe it was a better idea to keep Oracle in her back pocket for now. 

Dinah pulled up the collar of her jacket to compensate for the wind as they sped across the sky and after being transferred about fifteen different times she finally got through to someone who could get her in touch with someone who could help.  "I need to speak to Commissioner Gordon.  It's an emergency."  And it was, sort of.  At least it was for Dinah and Hal.  They needed to put the lid on this before it exploded and Ollie was left holding the fuse. 

Calling in favors from someone she hadn't actually interacted with since she was a child though wasn't one of Dinah's favorite past times... but on the bright side she wasn't positive he would recognize her- she was much shorter then, and not a blonde. 

Canary glances at GL and covers the receiver with her hand, looking out towards the Gotham skyline.  "Any cops shown up yet?"

Bird Calls

May. 20th, 2010 01:33 am
[identity profile] canary-noir.livejournal.com

She had just been getting in the shower when her cell phone buzzed with a text.  Dinah groaned and the bottom of her stomach fell out.  She had a date tonight.  Well, not some kind of important this-is-definitely-going-to-go-somewhere kind of a date, but more the so-here-we-are-in-the-grocery-store-and-I-see-you-like-Ramen-Noodles-as-much-as-I-do-maybe-we-could-eat-some-together-some-time kind.  With someone not involved in the superhero community and therefore- by most standards- a total nobody.  Okay sure, this wasn't going to end up in a happily ever after, but hey, when you have a Ferrarri, every now and then you just had to take it out for a spin.  And it was about damn time someone asked Dinah out on a spin.  And then... This.  That little buzzing that managed to ruin her evening before it even started. 

She grabbed a towel and wrapped up, stalling answering the text while she chanted in her head, Please don't let it be Babs, please don't let it be Babs, Pleaseohpleaseohplease don't let it be Babs.  Then she picked it up. 

Dinah rolled her eyes skyward at the universe's hilarious joke.  Well.  It wasn't Babs.  Dammit.

And finally she returned the text:

[To: Ollie Queen
You owe me.  Where do I meet you?]
[identity profile] elfinlantern.livejournal.com
Arisia hasn't been in her below the bar apartment in awhile. She's be busy cleaning up after the whole Sinestro issue and then there had been an outbreak of Graxosian measles (the closest English approximation) in her home sector. Then she had family obligations she needed to take care of while she was in the area....

Well, she's been kept away from Earth for awhile, especially as she wanted to make sure she wasn't going to bring anything contagious back with her. These things can be tricky, even for Oan power rings to spot. So, settling back into the apartment is a little strange. Going back to something more of a day job is even /more/ strange. This place runs without her well enough but she likes to help, likes to be here.

After a nap and a shower, she's back out walking the floor, checking the inventory and taking orders with a smile on her face.
[identity profile] j-onn-j-onzz.livejournal.com
J'onn was one of the first to react to Hal's summons.   When hearing the explanation, the glimmer of hope...something that J'onn, despite everything, has been able to find on a regular basis...resonated in J'onn's mind.

It very well might not be Batman.   But it COULD be.

However, Hell was not exactly the best place for a pyrophobe to be.  J'onn had already known that he would be the mental link, the tether, that would help to bring the team back if Wotan was as duplicitous as his reputation said it was.

"When Romaine killed Terry Sloane,"  J'onn told those assembled, "he did it in Jay Garrick's body.  It is not out of the realm of possibility that he might try to possess one of you, especially if you somehow get separated in the battle.  Try to stay paired up as much as possible, even in the chaos of it all.   Even if he has newfound power, he is likely to default to what he is comfortable and familiar with."
[identity profile] themightyoracle.livejournal.com
 It had been too long since their last one; a lot had happened between then and now to prevent it, but it was time, at last, for the Birds of Prey to assemble once more.

Many times, it was just Babs and Dinah in attendance for what they'd taken to calling their 'BoP parties'. Occasionally, some of the other girls, and/or honorary male members joined in, but all that really was needed were two or more Birds, a bottle of tequila for margaritas, ice cream, and the optional chick flick. So far this evening, the two founding members of the Birds of Prey were sharing the bottle alone, but the night was still young.

So far, it wasn't a very festive atmosphere. Barbara wasn't much of a drinker, but she had a shot glass of tequila in her hand, having skipped the margarita part entirely. She wasn't quite as thin has she had been recently, but her cheeks were still a bit more hollow than they should be. The apparent death of her mentor was taking less of a toll than her stubborn refusal to accept it as fact.

Babs hadn't spoken about it to anyone but Dick, and a few messages exchanged with Arthur. She wasn't sure what Dinah would have to say about it, but she <i>was</i> certain Di would make her talk.

[identity profile] bana-grace.livejournal.com
Someone's got that tune playing on the jukebox.

How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget

Grace doesn't care one way or the other, and just keeps serving up the drinks.
[identity profile] blackest-knight.livejournal.com
The cruise ship is about a mile and a half out to sea. Not very far, all things considered, but far enough to allot some privacy.

Granted, not a lot. Apparently a gay superhero wedding, especially with a world-renowned supermodel in the wedding party draws media attention. But then, they'd planned on that. It had been wanted, really. Because while this is an event to celebrate love, it's also there to send a message.

The last-minute guests are coming in, those who can fly anyways. Some in their costumes, some dressed as ordinary civilians.

The ushers--Ted, Sand, and Michael--are leading guests to seats, and of course everyone is making conversation. Damon's friends and few present family members are trying hard to not gape and stare and gawk at the heroes who've shown up in costume, though a few have gone to ask for autographs and pictures.

Todd is standing with his groomsmen, greeting friends and family alike as they come in. With Al, Rick, and Dad at his side. He's totally not feeling any jitters. No sirree. Not at all nervous over this.

No second thoughts at least, and he's serious about that part. There's nothing in the world he'd rather be doing.

He's just really terrified of it.
[identity profile] mari-mccabe.livejournal.com
Her statuesque form appears as one of the side doors slides open. She steps out into the spotlight, where she feels most at home, and smiles viciously. There's a majesty about her, a regal allure. She's clearly pulling on the powers of some animal. Maybe a lion. Maybe an elephant.

All around her, the crowd starts to cheer. And why wouldn't they? Here she is. 




She waits for her opponent, and as she does, the cheers of the crowd wash over her and egg her on.

She's going to win. She can feel it.
[identity profile] jla-forgotten.livejournal.com
It had taken a little bit of time to get everything together but finally everything is in place. They have fighters, they have a place for them to fight and best of all, they have customers to pay to watch and the bet on the outcome. People have been trickling into the small arena Roulette has acquired and now it is almost time to begin.

The platform she's on lowers to where she's visible to all of the audience as she makes her announcement. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I have invited you here with the promise of something never seen before. There have been rumors about my presentation here tonight and how it could top what I've shown you before."

The woman pauses for dramatic effect before she announces, "It is time for you to see for yourselves. Let the first Belle Brawl begin!" The platform pulls back up into the ceiling to form a private booth where she can watch the event for herself.

She's placed wagers on the contestants but it doesn't really matter. The house always wins.
[identity profile] 3x2-9yz-4a.livejournal.com
Everything has been set up at the brownstone, on this clear crisp day in April.

With Ma Hunkel's assistance, food had been prepared, along with a BBQ currently heating up and sending scented smoke up into the air.

And invitations had been sent out to everyone that Jesse could think of, that simply said, Come help us celebrate the birthday of one of our dear friends, Jay Garrick, April 3rd, 2009, at the JSA brownstone.
[identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_black_canary_/
"Downward block, gedanbarai, hagemai!" calls out the Black Canary, and thirty students step out in stance, swinging their arms down to block the imaginary kick. Unfortunately, some land on their left foot and some on their right. A few of the newer students aren't entirely sure which arm they're supposed to be using to block, and the Canary waves a reproving hand. "No, no. Watch--" Patiently she runs through the short sequence, moving far more slowly than she would in a real fight. "Left foot out, left arm blocks. Left foot out, left arm blocks."

After a few more repetitions, even the most nervous student has mastered the sequence, and the class comes to an end. Bows are exchanged, and Dinah wanders over to pay her respects to the sensei. "Thanks for letting me sit in," she tells the old woman.

"Ach, my pleasure," beams the sensei, who looks more like a Swiss dairymaid than a three-time national champion, though the photos from her victories line the wall as testimony. "It's good for them to have instruction from someone else from time to time. It teaches them the power of unpredictability, yes?"

"Hai," agrees the Canary with a grin. "I'll see about showing up next week if I can. Maybe." Her grin firmly in place, she makes her farewells and leaves the dojo, humming off-key to herself as she walks to her motorcycle.
[identity profile] jla-villains.livejournal.com
Large, green, scaly, scowling, that's the distinct and typical manner of Waylon Jones, known better to Gotham as Killer Croc. His attitude is rarely sunny, and this evening his temper is burying the needle, past murderous rage.

He just feels the need for mayhem.

Quitting the sewers via a manhole near Fittany's Jewelers, he cracks his knuckles and ponders the best way into the bank, beyond the usual M.O. of busting in the window, yanking out some iron bars, and hoping that the schmuck security guard wants to come out and play.

There's gotta be a better way for a guy to make money and get his homicidal freak on in this lousy town.
[identity profile] jla-villains.livejournal.com
Li Feng hates wearing a balaclava. It irritates his skin. But it's under strict orders from the bosses of the Xiao family that his target is not to see his face. He has a calling card, and that is all he has to leave once the restaurant has been trashed. Nobody refuses to pay the Gotham Triads their protection money and gets off with just a pat on the hand. This guy's going to regret not paying his dues to the Xiao family.

Reaching the Golden Buddha, Li sighs. This is the part of his job that he really enjoys. Picking up a nearby trash can, he hurls it at the restaurant window, and with a loud smash, it caves in. Easy work. Smiling to himself beneath the balaclava, he steps into the restaurant front and begins to turn over tables and pour the fluids he was given by his bosses over the lino. Some sort of acid apparently, and more of a symbolic gesture than anything. The Xiao are very fond of burning the faces of their enemies with sulphuric acid.

Hearing a noise from the kitchen area, Li stops. Putting his flask away, he draws a gun, and heads into the back rooms to see what he can find.
[identity profile] martian-hunter.livejournal.com
"This is Martian Manhunter to all active and reservist JLA members.  We have a situation that needs immediate investigation.  Several metahumans are known to be missing and I am certain there are others.   I would reccomend all available JLA members report to the Watchtower as soon as possible with whatever information you have."

With that, J'onn activates the device on his communicator.  There is a flash of light and he is instantly teleported to the Watchtower.  Once on sight, he moves in a direct line to the conference room.   
[identity profile] xspeedyx2.livejournal.com
Algebra Two was solely invented to torture high school students, Mia thinks as she pours over a hefty review packet for yet another exam.

She looks out her bedroom window and sighs. Damn Ollie, not letting her go on patrol with him tonight. As far as she was concerned, helping out people on the streets as Speedy, was far more important then finding the value of 'x'.

A light gleams outside of her window. Standing up to get a better look, Mia makes her way towards it...


They'd been after these guys for about three months now. Drug dealers. It had become one of the worst drug trafficking rings that Star City had seen in about five years.

Mia and Ollie had managed to track them down to a warehouse near the outskirts of town. They were alone, as Connor had been called away on League business and Roy couldn't be reached.

It was going well. They'd successfully fought off all of the men that been guarding the building and were making the call to the Star City PD.

When out of the corner a man that they must've missed pops out. He aims pulls out a gun and points it at Mia's head.

"Let everyone go, or your little buddy gets it Green Arrow."

The next few seconds are a blur to Mia.

A gunshot is heard, and Mia feels the force of her being shoved to the ground.

Her world goes black.
When she wakes, she's on a stretcher in the back of a Star City PD ambulance.

"What happened?" she asks

An EMT turns and looks at her.

"We got here just in time," he says, "You were out cold, but we managed to get the men that you and Green Arrow had caught."

Mia looks around, just noticing that Ollie isn't in the car with her.

"Where is the Green Arrow?" she asks, "Is he talking to the police?"

He gives her a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry Speedy," he says, "We tried everything that we could...but we just were too late."

It takes her a second to grasp what he said to her and the tears start to come to her eyes.

No it can't be...
[identity profile] spirit-of-truth.livejournal.com
The bell hanging over the door at Sherwood Florists II jangles as the door opens and Diana steps in, dressed in a slightly more formal version of her usual costume.

She smiles at a customer, who returns it with an open mouth stare, and continues towards the back of the store to find Dinah.
[identity profile] swiftjustice.livejournal.com
Jay Garrick, dressed in an old but still somewhat fashionable suit, makes his way into one of Gotham's swankier restaurants. Soft background muzak plays in the background, and many people are dressed to the nines - tuxes and evening gowns.

The meal promised to be expensive, but the conversation would be worth it. He signals the maitre'd.

"Reservation, under the name of Garrick. I'm not sure how many will be coming.."

He slips the fellow a twenty dollar bill in exchange for the assurance that that won't be a problem, and is lead inside..
[identity profile] 7-seas-czar.livejournal.com
As Arthur walks through thr door holding a bag full of Dim Sum. Some part of him remembered that Dinah's gone vegetarian, though he couldn't remember when that happened, exactly or the resons why. While he has most of his feelings and memories back from what Zee did to him, everything after that is still a blur. There is a barrier between him and the last year of memories that he can't see through and everything before that... It no longer seems as if it happened to someone else but they don't fit him, as if his skin were too tight.

The shop looks good. The food smells good.

Hopefully the conversation will also be good.
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
This holiday season, there is no phony distress call, no false alarm of an impending alien invasion. In fact, the invitations had been sent out weeks ago to as many individuals as the Watchtower's party planning committee could think of - with some help from the Justice League's computerized roster, of course. Small cards requesting RSVPs had been distributed to members of the League, the Justice Society, the Titans East and West, as well as other, smaller teams and unaffiliated heroes.

The moonbase's commissary has been transformed by Ma Hunkel and her contingent of culinary assistants - experts and neophytes alike - into a veritable assembly line producing mind-boggling quantities of food, the aroma of the feast filling the corridors of the Watchtower, drifting as far away as the teleporter room. Apart from the mouth-watering smells, tasteful holiday decorations throughout the moonbase provide an even more festive atmosphere, and although the League has always been a rather inclusive group, there is no doubting the influence of the modern American conceptualization of Christmas, as evinced by the impressively lit Christmas tree in the main assembly hall, not to mention the various poinsettias, wreathes, and garlands.

It would seem, however, that someone put the kibosh on the ill-conceived notion of piping in Christmas music, and, thus, the Watchtower does not exactly capture the feeling of a mall department store in full holiday sale swing.

There will be food and drink enough for all - all manner of entrees, sides, and a bounty of cookies and desserts, not to mention egg nog, hot toddies, and other adult holiday beverages - and good company, perhaps some gift-giving and even a kiss or two under a sprig of mistletoe.

As the heroes gather, the mood will be light and easy, but, perhaps one of the more veteran of Earth's champions will utter a few words to reflect on not only the season, but also the trials, tribulations, and successes of the last year.


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