[identity profile] maestroofmirth.livejournal.com
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] mucous-magus.livejournal.com
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] 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] lesliethompkins.livejournal.com
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] eddie-nygma.livejournal.com
Any fugitive from justice in Gotham City - or former fugitive, as the case may be - maintains a number of safehouses throughout the city, to confound the authorities. Fortunately, Nygma knows most of Selina's usual hangouts - so it's relatively simple to check around and see which one's actually in use.

He raps on the door with his question-mark cane, calling out as he does so.

"Selina? It's Edward."
[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] femme-du-chat.livejournal.com
There was only so long the media was going to stay out of Gotham once the disaster was over. And then, after that, it was only going to be solong until one of them found her. It isn't like she's being super secretive with how she's helping the city to recover. Being out there on the ground with Leslie, recovering bodies and treating those with injuries isn't exactly subtle.

And Selina's not exactly subtle about telling them what they can do with themselves and their questions, either. She'll probably pay for it somehow but the obscene gestures certainly make her feel better and it does drive them away for now. Looks like she'll be back in Gotham for awhile.
[identity profile] scream-and-cry.livejournal.com
Dr. Crane had been watching the events of Darkseid and Blackfire's rule of Gotham from the safety of the fortress that is Arkham Asylum, curiously unaffected by the power of anti-life. He wasn't alone in the institute however, as being one of the few to remain his faculties (scarce that they may be) he found himself all but in charge of the Asylum, locking doctors, nurses and orderlies into cells along with criminals, psychopaths and anyone who was foolish enough to flee to the Asylum to escape Darkseid's tyranny.

It had been time to go to work. A mass experiment in fear; first to watch some succumb to anti-life, then to watch others realise that they were trapped in this place of hell, then to lock them in cells and expose them all to different strains of fear toxin. He was grateful to the good doctors of Arkham that they kept a good supply of his drugs in storerooms as they were suspected to help with his upcoming therapy. Well... They did prove therapeutic. It had been a long time since he'd watched someone in a glass cell writhe in the green mist before being forced to confront their own worst fear. Some of the inmates reacted as suspected. Some of the doctors had more vivid fears than than anyone. A lot of the criminals and a few of the GCPD who had fled to the Asylum seem to have gained a fear of clowns and bats over the past years. Interesting.

Now Crane paces the corridors in full costume, smirking as people behind reinforced glass recoil at his presence, afraid that he may expose them to the toxin once more. "Coulrophobia. Chiroptophobia. Clowns and bats. Clowns and bats." Scarecrow shakes his head with disdain. Such lack of imagination.

"What about you, Commissioner? I saved you until last because I thought you may have some deep secretive longing for your daughter that would emerge and prove no doubt fascinating to the other members of the experiment, but now I'm beginning to think you'll just be another clown person. Or bat person. What's your guess? Guess correctly and maybe I'll let you go. Maybe not though." Scarecrow rests his palms against Gordon's cell.

The buzzer at Crane's side starts to go off. An intruder. That means fresh meat. He breaks into a jog to get back to the control centre, and looking at the monitors he sees a familiar figure emerge into B-Wing. How did this person get so far without tripping any other security? Again, interesting.
[identity profile] femme-du-chat.livejournal.com
Selina Kyle gets off the plane in Star City and pauses, looking around. This is most certainly something she doesn't want to ever, ever give up if at all possible. Airports are horrible and full of cameras and police and many, many other things she does not like to be around. Walking off of the plane down to the tarmac and then possibly into a car is much, much better. It also makes it just a little harder for people to follow her around with cameras.

And the wait for her luggage is much less too.

Pulling up at Oliver's house, Selina tilts her head a bit, recognizing the signs of a house she might well have considered a target at one point. It would seem that those who usually live here are not currently at home. Knocking on the door and ringing the doorbell only serve to confirm that no one is here now.

Luckily, locked doors haven't been much of a challenge for her since she was about sixteen. Home security systems, though, are something else but still, nothing she'll lose sleep over. And speaking of sleep, she should be able to get some of that here. Nothing like a good night's sleep in a bed she has no memories of in a house she broke into.
[identity profile] femme-du-chat.livejournal.com
Catwoman pulls the motorcycle into the Cave and sits there in silence, long after the rumble of the engine has ceased. Silence holds for a few minutes before the observant will be able to hear a soft sound come from the woman. Luckily, there is no one else here, yet, and she's unconcerned about the cameras or the bats. She takes her time, allowing herself what she's been fending off and unwilling to allow. Allowing seems like acceptance and she still doesn't want to accept it.

After pulling herself back together and making herself mostly presentable, she slides off of the motorcycle and slides her goggles off of her head. The goggles she leaves hanging from the handles, to give any junior detectives who might wander by a clue, and starts her way up the stairs. She needs a shower and maybe some tea before she makes her next decision.

The only thing that is certain, is she's not going to be able to sleep in that bed alone. Showering and getting changed will be hard enough but she's never been one to let difficulty stop her.
[identity profile] femme-du-chat.livejournal.com
All of the research has been done.

All of the information has been collected.

All of the properties with Lex Luthor's name still attached, few that they are, have been diverted elsewhere. All of the properties that /used/ to have his name attached are now on a list and that list has been generally enchanted by one man who has the name of Constantine.

It is one of the stupid things that comes with magic - there must always be totems and symbols associated with anything that means something. Sacrifice and cost are high up on the list as well - especially the way her friend does magic.

It feels a little anti-climactic to be standing here in this hotel room, alone and done. If Lex Luthor... when Lex Luthor comes back, he'll have to start over from scratch.

It isn't much but it is what it is.

And now she has to decide what comes next.

That means she needs to make a call or two.
[identity profile] femme-du-chat.livejournal.com
Well, Ms. Kowalski /seemed/ to accept the plan. Selina doesn't know how much she trusts the woman but then again, there aren't that many people, women especially, that she trusts at all under the best of conditions. These are not the best of conditions.

Laying on the bed in the hotel room, she stares up at the ceiling. There were times when she was battered, broken and bruised when she felt better than she does now. Right now, she feels tired. Worse than that she feels old. Really, she'd thought this would make her feel better and on some level it truly does, but mostly it is just reminding her of what has changed.

Pulling in a sniff and rubbing at her eyes, she pushes herself up off of the bed.

Time to find out what Eddie's learned and see if she can wrap all of this up.
[identity profile] femme-du-chat.livejournal.com
It takes some time for Selina to make her way to the office.

This meeting, ought to be interesting. She sits behind the desk in the office, waiting for Ms. Kowalski to come in. It could be awhile, she's aware, so she brought a bag with her. She's leaning back in the chair at the moment, remembering the last time she sat in an office chair in an office sort of like this one if you squinch your eyes up real tight.

The memory is a good one, even if it hurts right now.
[identity profile] femme-du-chat.livejournal.com
It isn't something she wanted to do at all.

Thomas Blake is not someone she looks forward to seeing these days. Not even a little bit. And now, of course, she's looking to ask him a favor. That will be fantastic. Fantastically horrible.

She's left messages in all of the places she could think to leave them for him. Hopefully, he'll make contact with her or show up at any of the meeting times and places she'd given him as options.
[identity profile] femme-du-chat.livejournal.com
It is so shiny here.

Selina and Metropolis have never really gotten along. It isn't hatred but perhaps a mutual disdain for each other. The persistent sense of shine and chrome didn't help. Usually, she tries to stay here for as little time as possible - it feels like she's leaving fingerprints all over everything.

An unnerving feeling for someone who likes to leave no trace behind her.

Entering the hotel lobby, Constantine has done another one of his blend into the crowd and vanish things, even has they'd managed to, somehow, convince the woman behind the counter that they had a reservation for a suite. Was it magic? A con? Both? While things don't work that smoothly between the two, Selina isn't taking the time to stop and think about what they could accomplish together if they ever became a smooth working team.

Lex's hotel was going to end up sending a bill to nowhere, most likely.

Which is just the beginning.
[identity profile] femme-du-chat.livejournal.com
While most people would just buy a plane ticket and fly normally to Metropolis, or any other city, for that matter, Selina Kyle is not most people. She is still, no matter what else, Bruce Wayne's fiance. This means she can get on a few other planes and jets that most people cannot access.

Thus, she's easily able to get onto a mostly private jet headed to Metropolis with little problem. It is a short flight - up and down again within just over an hour. Leaning back in the seat, she kicks off her shoes and closes her eyes. It will be nice to have some time to herself.
[identity profile] femme-du-chat.livejournal.com
The jewelery store was simple but it was nice to confirm that she could still do it. Tonight, though, tonight she needs to confirm other things. While this is an increase in skill, that's certainly not all it is. Breaking into a museum and getting something out of it is an entirely different level of challenge than a jewelery store.

Ironically, putting something /back/ into a museum is even harder than getting something out.

Tonight is a night for challenges in many ways and it is also a night for goodbyes. She's not expecting to be back in Gotham for awhile. It is for a purpose and a knowledge that have settled heavily into her frame, which makes everything harder than it should.
[identity profile] femme-du-chat.livejournal.com
It must be a combination of things that started it.

Selina Kyle has always had light fingers and a tendancy to pick up objects that didn't belong to her. It wasn't always with the intent to /take/ them but more to give her hands something to do. Of course, it was relatively simple to just take them if you were to forget, intentionally or purposefully, that you had the item in your hands. Little things were stolen this way when she was younger - pencils, books, the occasional set of keys.

Of course, things took an entirely different turn once she started thinking about it on purpose.

It was fun. It was exciting. And it ended up being liberating in ways she'd never have imagined.

So, it isn't much of a surprise when she starts finding knick-knacks and trinkets coming home with her. The seeds were planted in who she is and given light and water by a certain former Boy Wonder.

There is no moment of self-reflection as she's climbing out of the jewlery store skylight. Why /anyone/ in Gotham has a skylight anymore, let alone a jewelry store is a mystery to her but it certainly does make things interesting in all the best ways. Gaining purchase on the roof, she feels a smile she hasn't felt in some time resting on her lips.
[identity profile] aflyinggrayson.livejournal.com
Three days, give or take, have passed since the news broke, since Clark and Diana visited to drop a bombshell on the Wayne household. In that time, Alfred has taken care of covering Bruce's trail: the billionaire playboy has hurt himself skiing in Switzerland and is reputedly resting comfortably in a private villa somewhere in the Alps. Dick, however, has sequestered himself in the Batcave looking for signs of Batman. Any sign. Anything.


Weary, he finally quits the work (after punching a $1000 monitor across the room) and drags himself upstairs to shower and shave. Only after he is presentable does he learn, from a grief-worn Alfred, that Selena is still at Wayne Manor. Cursing himself for his single-mindedness (Bruce would be proud, ignoring someone's grief to work.), Dick goes to the master bedroom and knocks.
[identity profile] metromarvel.livejournal.com
Its only been a few hours; he wanted to make sure Lois was home, first. The Man of Steel rockets through the sky, face inscrutable as he tries to figure out an approach for this. Who all's going to be there? Will he have to tell them one at a time? Will they blame him? Should they?

"Stop it." Clark tells himself, ashamed of the selfish fear. He's Superman, for God's sakes. It doesn't make the approach to Wayne manor(the back way, naturally.) any easier, however, on this miserable winter's day. Superman can't help but remember the first time he'd heard Batman rail against Gotham's infamous snowfall, about how a little slush on his cape almost killed him, about how...wait.

Eyes narrowing, Superman eases left, picking up speed as he peers through sin-stained warehouse after sin-stained warehouse. Temperature fluctuation...there. Lead plating, but that doesn't mean much these days, but only one Gotham criminal is going to be working with that kind of ferrokinetic discharge tonight of all nights.

Crashing through the roof, Superman's hunch is confirmed! The armored outline of Mister Freeze stands, slowly working over some strange device while masked and hooded goons carry armloads of cheap industrial diamonds. Well, they were, right up until the maniac in blue pajamas kicked the roof in. "I hope you're giving them overtime for working this close to the holiday, Freeze."

The man...or what once was a man...makes motions that would be shock and horror on being capable of expressing its emotions to any real extent. On Freeze, they're memories, patterns etched into his walking corpse body. "You...!"

There's a crack of wind, then, as Superman gets all up in Freeze's grill, smashing the ice cannon the criminal habitually carries like it were an old beer can. "This is a bad time." Superman says, not raising his voice but somehow expressing the sort of fury that makes six or seven armed men take pause. "So how about you just...stop. Huh?"


One concussion later, the Man of Steel is back in the air. Okay, so Mister Freeze's annual mad scheme to create an eternal winter had been foiled, there...there was no real excuse to keep putting this off. Man up, Clark snaps at himself, and the red and blue blur shimmers in the Gotham dusk.

There is a knock, at the back door of stately Wayne manor. "...Alfred...?"


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