Bird Calls

May. 20th, 2010 01:33 am
[identity profile]

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]
While the team is away, other members of the JSA have remained behind. One in particular received a visitor who has a "rotating" sort of admission.

And he's not happy at the moment.

"Do you That's a stupid question. I know you do. But you want to tell me one good reason why there's been no change yet?"

He stares forward, and across the table at his teammate, steeling for the reply.
[identity profile]
Sitting in the co-pilot's seat of the Justice Society's supersonic jet, Jay in on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary - and soon finds it.

"We're approaching Savage's island. We'll have to take things slowly - if anyone feels any kind of twinge in your thoughts, anything influencing your behavior, call out. The process isn't instantaneous for most of us, and - "

He cuts off in mid-sentence as his eyes flick between the windows and the instruments.

"Nothing on radar, but we've got a shadow. I think Savage sent us an escort."

Jay points out the right side window, towards a sleek-looking aircraft of unknown origin, apparently circling around to match the jet's course and speed.


Jan. 10th, 2010 11:18 pm
[identity profile]
Back at the Brownstone, Jay is preparing the JSA's jet for departure after a quick briefing.

"If Savage stole what we think he did, he could be on the verge of rendering himself virtually invulnerable to attack - we need to proceed with caution. Damn Luthor's timing - we could've taken care of this hours ago."
[identity profile]
"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]
"CLEAR THE AREA!" Mr. Terrific bellows, forcing the doors to the JSA's makeshift emergency room open. "We've got a tension pneumothorax moving in. Pieter...I need you on the ready immediately!"

The team leader starts to usher in the wounded team-members, dispersing others to go aid. "If you can move, and can help, do so. We've got a city at threat-level red going here. GO!"

Terrific reaches to his earpiece, pausing to regain physical control for a split second, appearing to momentarily shimmer. "Is he holding up still? I need a sit-rep."
[identity profile]
Why could Sinestro master the elemental force of fear? Compared to the true horrors of the fifty two layered universes, what exactly is frightening about a pink fascist in yellow tights?

It came all at once, a horrible static burst cutting through Earth's delicate web of satellite powered communications. "People of Earth." A flicker of light and energy, as the sneering, mustached face comes into view. "This is...Sinestro, leader and founder of the Sinestro Corps. For too long, Earth has suffered under the yoke of nationalism. It is clear to me that for all of their virtues, the human race is simply incapable of governing itself in a reasonable, orderly fashion. We have come to help you. We have come because, when given the chance to help yourselves, you jockeyed for position and struggled for dominance instead of acknowledging the need to unify. We have come to save the world. The planet Earth, a source of great fear for the civilized universe, has been annexed as a protectorate of the Sinestro Corps. Do not resist, and the transition shall be accomplished with minimal strife."

In the skies, the first, best line of defense against alien invasion has failed. The Watchtower was somehow fooled into believing that the rush of negative energy was the dimensional equivalent of a sunspot. Amon Sur, Parallax, leads the space contingent of this army of psychotics, shimmering beams of the yellow spectrum of light making themselves known as the Sinestro Corps secures the fortress-space station.

"The only colony on the Earth that has declared open alliance to the Green Lantern Corps is the settlement of Coast City. Even here, Sinestro shows his limitless mercy. People of Coast City, you have one hour. Then, I shall descend upon the home of my great enemy, and I shall leave nothing standing. Leave. Quickly. The remainder of the United States of America shall be secured by Sinestro Corps agents within that hour timeframe."

Eyes glowing the harsh yellow-red of a bleeding sun, Mongol leads his war party tasked with seizing America's heartland into a sweeping formation around what is arguably the soul of the United States; Mount Rushmore. Mongol grins, envisioning his twisted visage carved over the great leaders of this rebellious nation.

"Terms of surrender for the rest of the world shall be broadcasted from the United Nations building. I do not expect the proud human race to accept their fate until they are taught how to fear. Their weaponer-guardian will be tasked with spreading the fear that must be established to bring order to this wounded, rabid world. Rejoice, earthlings. You are delivered."

Enkafos's eyes open, his three hundred and sixty fifth awakening since the end of his natural life. The mummified agent of Sinestro stands in the middle of the UN Plaza, and silently basks in the greatest city on the planet's terror, its anticipation. "Prepare." He orders his subordinates. "The throne must be ready to accept antimatter within the quarter hour."

The frightening thing about Sinestro, you see, is when this almost foolish figure talks about bringing order to the galaxy, living nightmares listen. They cheer. They unite. They work together. Sinestro can take a disorganized band of egomaniacs and psychotics and bring them together as firmly as any crack unit of soldiers. His eyes gleam with the cancerous yellow of a dieing star as he hovers over Coast City, his ring helping him keep track of the work of those that bare his name below. And Sinestro couldn't keep the smile off of his face.
[identity profile]
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]
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]
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]
The brief talk with Lois Lane shook him out of his depression over the Brainiac disaster. Long enough for him to find the shreds of his optimism that still remained. Long enough for him to try and figure out a way out of this hole he's found himself in.

Despite his standing with the Justice Society, Dr. Mid-Nite has never actually been in the public eye that much. He was credited with curing Ra's Al Ghul's plague, which was really the first time he spoke publicly. He hangs in the background of the group publicity efforts, as the 'myth' of Dr. Mid-Nite is an effective tool for his local efforts. People still don't tend to believe he's active in Portsmouth, of all places, thousands of miles away from JSA headquarters in New York City.

Now, the most common national experience and perception of Dr. Mid-Nite is that of a deranged, inhuman swarm of murderers. If it was a persona Dr. Pieter Cross had invented himself, he could easily sink into self-pity and fade from sight, but this is a mantle he took up from a man who meant a great deal to him, Dr. Charles McNider. It's a legacy he can't allow to remain tarnished.

The question now is how to go about redeeming Dr. Mid-Nite. That's the mystery. And it's a problem he hasn't solved yet, but one he's mulling over in his lab as he's doing mindless routine maintenance on his equipment. One he's been mulling over while holed up in his stately manor for days now. Or has it been weeks?
[identity profile]
"Pieter, it's Lois Lane. Look, I just...I wanted to make sure that you were all right after everything that happened. If you need anything, give me a call. My cell is 555-785-4897."
[identity profile]
to celebrate the wedding of
Todd Rice
Damon Matthews
Held xx/xx/xxxx
On xxxx
the xxx
at xxxx o'clock
Newport Beach California
Electra Cruises

followed by a reception.

[identity profile]
"Thank you all for joining us today." Diana sits down in her chair.

"To put it mildly, a lot has happened these past few weeks."

She looks around at those gathered at the table.

"Before we involve the other heroes, I believe that it would be valuable to have a discussion about recent events, in particular the replicants."
[identity profile]
Wonder Woman has, as requested, provided a replicant to Batman for examination and, he hopes, elucidation about what's going on.

What he has is a replicant of Flamebird, and how the replicant is being controlled is the golden lasso around its neck courtesy of Wonder Woman.

"Diana," Batman mumbles as he gets the replicant on the scanning table, "try to keep her still. Shouldn't take long."
[identity profile]
Another war band, this one in New York, New York. The replicant army spreads loose throughout, as Lobo commands this rabble of part-automated maniacs. A group heads for the Empire State Building. Another goes for the Rockefeller Center.

One of the replicants, a copy of Huntress, stands on a destroyed plinth in the middle of Central Park, howling at the moon. There's no reason behind it except to cause terror. People run, and people hide, and are soon found by more and more replicants that proceed to attack and brutalise.

The honour-guard, the replicants Brainiac assigned especially to stay close to Lobo, await his command as their brethren go about tearing New York City apart.
[identity profile]
While waiting for a report on Sand's physiology from Geo-Matrix, someone broke in and stole a big device, and that someone was suddenly aided and abetted by the siblings Jade and Obsidian.

This raised a few suspicions that Dr. Mid-Nite would voice if he wasn't stitching his own throat back together. He definitely should not have been here yet, but he obviously makes an impatient patient when he's in recovery. Obsidian's shadow attack to ensnare the rest of the JSA so Jade and the mystery man could escape... it did its damage.

While Mid-Nite repairs himself, the only sign of the pain involved being his gritting teeeth, there's an unspoken yet obvious question behind those goggles directed at Obsidian. A question that most of his colleagues likely share.

What the hell was that about?
[identity profile]
Sanderson Hawkins runs a hand through his hair, idly looking around the large laboratory for something to read or entertain him. Unfortunately, Geo-Metrix wasn't really set up for the amusement of human patients. The relatively new start-up company's business was tectonics and seismic activity - not biology.

Still, with the mysterious return of his geological powers, he had wanted some answers, and the researchers at STAR Labs had directed him here. Apparently, Geo-Metrix had a new experimental device, the GEO-D, with unrivalled detection and analysis capabilities for seismic energy. The techs here had been eager to try out the device on him, and he was now awaiting the results.

"Not even a subscription to National Geographic. Man.."

Perhaps some visitors would alleviate the boredom.
[identity profile]
It was a very long time spent stitching, blood seeping through her fingers and her stitches. Still, they're here in space and Dr Mid-Nite has been stablized. He's not only been stablized but he's been worked on in many different ways with all of the super science and magic. He's been asleep since they got here. Bette has been sitting here watching over him, worried.

She's been reassured by any number of people but until he wakes up she'll be all but convinced that she's managed to screw something up. Maybe he'll be blind and mute.

"Oh God."
[identity profile]
Dr Mid-Nite applies the anaesthetic and antiseptic, and the scalpel makes its way across the stitched area, neatly parting Emma's skin.

What it reveals, Dr Mid-Nite only gets to take in for a second. Instead of blood, or meat, or anything resembling a human, Emma's insides are entirely circuitry, wired through with pink and red diodes to give the impression of a healthy human body. Whoever Emma is, and wherever Emma is, this definitely isn't her. This is some kind of replication.

More disturbing is the bomb, which Mid-Nite only sees for an instant. It's built like a claymore, facing outward toward whoever might cut into the skin around it. It explodes, with a "Braakkkkkk" sound, as sharp pieces of metal, wood and small nails fly out and in to Mid-Nite, flinging him backwards across the room, punctured with multiple wounds across his face and body.


"Well done, Onomatopoeia. I find these results incredibly telling... How long it takes for Todd to snap, Bertinelli to burst into hysterics... All excellent." Brainiac hands over a card. "Go to an ATM and type in 3528. You'll have access to all the money promised."

Brainiac starts to leave. "I know what you're wondering. Why go to all this trouble, when we could have killed Cross, Bertinelli, Kane and Todd in their sleep? That's not my purpose. All these... humans. All these... 'heroes'. Are any of them truly fearless? How far do we have to push them before they'll be completely drained, and completely able to become... drones. Manchurian Candidates, may be a better description."

"I noticed that you've got some kind of attachment to Kane. Foolish. You should not be trying to save these creatures from their idiocies if they cannot save themselves. I will be leaving now... I should not need to reiterate that our connection should not be revealed to anyone. Nobody, not even the child of Jor-El knows I'm here on Earth, which is why I picked such a vocally challenged serv- accomplice. Enjoy your reward."

Brainiac makes his way out of Onomatopoeia's building, knowing that the heroes have the address. The reason for showing it to Huntress on that monitor? Bertinelli and Todd are just the sorts of 'hero' to lose their temper and beat Onomatopoeia to death. Another interesting thing to monitor, which is why he left a small recording device in the villain's house.

Pulling his collar up, he walked out into the rain, and away from Star City.


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