[identity profile] teh-fuzzy-one.livejournal.com

Africa is nice, peaceful. The Beast was happy living in a pride of lions in Africa, thinking himself one. After months of a happy, simple, animal living, he was hunting, stalking a gazelle to bring back food for the cubs, when suddenly he feels a prick in his side. He turns his maned head to notice a small dart sticking near his ribs. His vision beginst to blur, and he yawns sleepily. His limbs begin to feel heavier and heavier, and he turns, trying to run back to the pride, but he stumbles and falls. He roars in defiance, challenging whatever is doing this to him, and then falls unconcious.

He woke up in a similar place, there were savannah grasses, and several other lions, some sleeping, others walking about. But something was wrong, the place smelled strange. Of smog, of strange things cooking, and of humans. He turned his head, and stumbled back in surprise to see a large group of humans looking at him and the other lions. He roars in confusion, walking towards them, and roaring in warning. This place was strange, but it was still his territory. Some of the humans seemed amused, others, mostly the small ones, seemed to react in the intended way, running back. He quickly turned his head roaring for the other lions to help him, but they seemed amused at his reaction, much like the humans.

Beast became slowly used to all of this over the next few weeks. Apparently he was in something called a 'zoo'. Whatever that was, humans came and looked at him, which was slightly wierd. Why he was brought here was still a mystery, but he had long since stopped caring. He was getting free food!
 


[identity profile] swiftjustice.livejournal.com
It had been touch and go, but the people of Rann were safe - though understandably confused to find themselves suddenly amidst the Australian Outback. After making temporary arrangements with the Australian government to house the Rannian refugees, Jay and the Justice Society arranged a meeting of heroes - some in person, some by teleconference - to discuss the situation.

As the primary witness of the events, Jay is chairing the meeting from the JSA Brownstone - waiting for those who can spare the time to call in. In the meantime, he's using a laptop PC to catch up on all the news reports from the recent invasion in Gotham.
[identity profile] scourge-of-mars.livejournal.com
Ma'alefa'ak could feel it, his body was nearly healed of its wounds. The burn scars on his body, a souvenir from his last battle with his brother, were nearly gone. His strength, almost returned, he could feel his the pinpricks of energy as he tested his connection to his Martian vision. He stretched and morphed his arm into a serrated blade, then willed himself intangible. His powers were nearly restored, except of course..

"Damn him!" Malefic roared, as several Psion doctors jumped in fear.

Once he had had his telepathy stolen from him, making him a freak and outcast of Martian Society. Then his brother had returned it to him so that he'd once again be vulnerable to fire. The fire had nearly killed him, his body floating in space after his assault on his brother's allies. Then the Cyborg had found him and commissioned his servants to heal Malefic. Malefic had no delusions that the Cyborg wished to use him for his own ambitions, but that was fine with him. He sensed a kindred hatred in the Cyborg, which is why Malefic was willing to stay, for now. But soon, his brother would die, his allies would die, and then his adopted home would also die. At last, he would be the last Martian.

The last time he had seen Henshaw, Malefic was still in the healing chamber. From what he had been told, the Cyborg and Despero were attempting an invasion of the planet, Rann. It was not his fight, he would not intervene unless asked. Malefic returned to his hibernation chamber and closed his eyes, dreaming dreams most beings would consider nightmares.
[identity profile] mr-henshaw.livejournal.com
The Cyborg Superman had been flying through the galaxy for weeks, occasionally catching a hyperbeam to a local planet or hitching a ride on a rocket to a moon, but ultimately he had one destination in mind. That destination would be Rann.

Many years ago, Hank Henshaw had made a plan with Mongul. That plan involved Coast City becoming the pilot seat of a new Warworld, with the two of them at the helm. Alas, the plan did not come to fruition and despite Coast City's destruction, nothing came of it. That's not to say there wasn't a Plan B however, and upon exercising his strength and intelligence down in Fawcett City to check how foolproof the heroes of Earth truly were, he decided that it was far too much of a trial to attempt to make Earth his Warworld.

Without Mongul's aid, Plan B had to be shared with some new intergalactic menaces. Specifically, Despero and a rebel faction of Psions. They had all come to an agreement; Rann would be the new Warworld, and with it they would be able to dominate a large portion of the galaxy. With the help of Dr. Sivana and the technology behind Chemo, Henshaw now had the science needed to take control over the planet, but an invasion would be required first.

Arriving at a heavily wooded and uninhabited portion of Rann, the Cyborg removed his cloaking device and entered the underground tunnel that led to the work he had been doing for these past years, after Despero had taken his consciousness from Oa. Henshaw stood before his war-machine, the device designed to produce a robotic army of Chemo-like soldiers to take on Rann's defences.

Hank grins, and feels the clap of Despero's hand on his shoulder. It's always useful to have allies, whether they be runt humans like Sivana or the beast from Kalanor himself. Someone should always be there to take the fall if it all goes wrong. "Are we ready?"
[identity profile] 10xspeedoflight.livejournal.com
In a scene reminiscent of the one from Terminator, where Arnie pulls up from a crouch, crackling with lightning and totally nude, Barry Allen... appears. Except he's not nude; he's wearing scarlet and gold, and the uniform fits him perfectly. There's a flash to the past -

"Have to keep running..."

Opening his eyes, he sees a room covered with alien art, sculptures and a massive timepiece in a state of disarray. Smoke has filled the room. A man with clock faces on his broken spectacles lies in an unconscious heap some distance away. Barry shakes his head. This is a lot to take in. He walks over to the man, and makes sure he's alive. Whoever he is, he's had a lucky escape. A high explosive went off and the concussive blast must have knocked him across the chamber and into a wall. Another flash -

"Have to keep running... No matter how much it hurts..."

The timepiece makes a pathetic *ting* *ting* *ting* sound before ceasing, and collapsing. Something in time has changed. Barry looks at his uniform and realises it's him. Something has occurred to make him come back. He remembers dying, being absorbed by the speed force -

"Have to keep running... No matter how much it hurts... Time... Feel the time stream around me-"

How is he back? The destruction of this time device has made someone at some point in the years since his death do something to bring him back. But how? And why? He speeds out of the chamber and into a corridor, out of the corridor and into a trophy room. He speeds out of the trophy room and into a special containment room, and out of the containment room into a locker room, and then a meeting room, and then a monitor room.

"Iris..."

He sees faces he recognises as he speeds through the Watchtower, everything coming back to him. The Green Lantern, Hawkman, Wonder Woman. Everyone. His friends. His allies. The Justice League.

"The Watchtower is under attack..." The Flash speeds through the rooms he's visited, picking up villains as he goes. Captain Stingaree, the Eel, Stallion, Killer Wasp, Brutale. Some he recognises, others he does not. He ties them together and dumps them right in front of Hal Jordan.

"You've really let this place go to the dogs, Hal."
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
At the corner of Hollywood and Vine, the ground begins to tremble on an early summer evening - the hardy native Californians ignore the tremor at first, accustomed to such things living this close to the San Andreas fault. The hissing gasses and wave of heat might be ignored as well - after all, this is where movies are made - but the follow-up is all too real.

Demons begin to pour forth from the fissure that quickly forms - their twisted, red-black bodies bending unnaturally as their charred wings expand, feeling the freedom of the air for the first time in age untold.

Hell on Earth begins here.
[identity profile] jla-villains.livejournal.com

Conrad Laughlin was a man on a mission.  More than anyone besides his specialists knew of.  The Justice League's Watchtower satellite required minute-by-minute updates and maintenance.  This is not something normally handled by its members, so tech support is always moving through.  

The background check is well and truly exhausting.  One day's work requires a month of informational requests, as well as interviews with family, and what appeared to be a "spirit sniffing" from a rhyming gargoyle.  That was the strangest part of the entire day so far.  The fact Laughlin's packed lunch now bore the faint smell of brimstone was just an added bonus. 

He wasn't able to bring any of his own tools as everything necessary would be provided by the League staff, and a schematic as to what he'd be facing was completely out of the question.  Conrad was working blind here, but when your client bases itself on universal security, its a moot point. 

Turning to the worker next to him in a rather bright orange (with garish blonde work-boots), he spoke quickly.  "If the pay for this wasn't ridiculous, I'd almost do it for the sights.  Where are you out of?"
[identity profile] keystonesfinest.livejournal.com
 Dr. Alchemy sits atop the Gothic Revival Tribune Tower in Chicago, legs dangling over the edge of the tall ledge he's perched on, the Philosopher's Stone in one hand, and a smaller book than usual in the other. He's having to use a metal clip to keep the pages open where he wants them, given the high winds this far up, so he's less than happy. Any damage to a book puts Alchemy in a bad mood.

He reads from his book; Atlas Shrugged. "Run for your life from any man who tells you that money is evil. That sentence is the leper’s bell of an approaching looter. So long as men live together on earth and need means to deal with one another–their only substitute, if they abandon money, is the muzzle of a gun. What an interesting philosophy…" Alchemy doesn't even look up as he activates the philosopher's stone, and the walls of the Chicago Mutual Bank turn into oxygen, exposing the vaults to the public.

"When you have made evil the means of survival, do not expect men to remain good. Do not expect them to stay moral and lose their lives for the purpose of becoming the fodder of the immoral. Do not expect them to produce, when production is punished and looting rewarded. Do not ask, ‘Who is destroying the world? You are."  He sniffs. "I merely change the world. I destroy nothing. This Rand woman has some gaps in her knowledge." Again without looking, he clutches the stone and the roads beneath him begin to change into mercury.

-

Meanwhile, other villains, rogues and criminals run rampant throughout Chicago, all intent on causing the largest distraction possible for the Justice League.
[identity profile] zauriel1971.livejournal.com
Zauriel leads the way to find Dr. Fate. Knowing Asmodel is free and after the power of the Spectre, time is running out fast! He only hopes he gets there soon enough, or it will be devastating for everyone...

__________________

Outside Dr. Fate's tower, Traumiel has already arrived and orders his minions to attack. He shouts to the tower, "FATE! You will help us to find the Spectre!" Little did they know, he was not there, but it was not vacant, there were others there to oppose them all...
[identity profile] zauriel1971.livejournal.com
Time has past since the last major presence of Asmodel on earth. Since then, he has been transferred from heaven's holding cells, to hell itself for containment for judgment on the Last Day. Some of his former servants have found out where he is thanks to recent interruptions in hell by earth's heroes...

Traumiel, a bull host like Asmodel, has managed to sneak to where he has heard his master is kept. He feels the heat and smells the stench of death strong in his nostrils. "Zauriel and his pals will pay for what they've done to my master! They thought they could slip through here to find a friend without notice! I heard one of their minds give way to mention the fact that my master had been moved here somewhere to await being judged. Not for long!" he says to himself. He stealthily sneaks to the spot and sees two dragon creatures guarding the former king angel, and former host of the Spectre. "You will soon be free my master!" he says to himself quietly, "You will soon be united with the Spectre! Soon you will rule hell itself from Neron and any other fool enough to face me!"
[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] swiftjustice.livejournal.com
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.

Regrouping

Jan. 10th, 2010 11:18 pm
[identity profile] swiftjustice.livejournal.com
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."

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] jsaboss.livejournal.com
"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] jla-glcorps.livejournal.com
The Green Lantern Corps has reconvened on Oa, treating their wounded and making preparations to pursue the Sinestro Corps - all their plans to strike before the Sinestro Corps makes another move have become suddenly moot.

The voice of one of the Guardians manifests from every active Green Lantern ring, accompanied by a tiny representation of the Guardian's head.

"Attention all Green Lanterns. We have detected a critical galactic threat. The Sinestro Corps has invaded Earth in Sector 2814 - and the Anti-Monitor has manifested in this universe on that planet. All active duty Green Lanterns are to report to planet Earth and engage the Sinestro Corps."

After the announcement, Ganthet turns to his brethren.

"And with the Anti-Monitor, the Green Lanterns will not be enough. We must prepare to go, ourselves."
[identity profile] bewaresinestro.livejournal.com
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] lady-shazam.livejournal.com
Mary Marvel's not a frequent visitor around the JSA Brownstone these days. Between school and superhero activities around Fawcett City, she hasn't really found time to pay any regular visits.

But school's on hiatus for the summer. And Billy and Freddy can handle any problems that might occur in Fawcett City. Thursdays are pretty sleepy around there anywhere.

A wide grin on her face, Mary touches down at the Brownstone's doorstep. Luckily, she still remembers the passcode to get in the main entrance...and the JSAers are nearly as paranoid as some of the other superheros that Mary's come into contact with over the years.

The Brownstone still has the same cozy, welcoming look that it had when she last visited. The smell of baked goods still fills the air, and Mary heaves out a happy sigh.

"Hello? Anybody home?" she calls out as she wanders through the hallways, looking for a familiar face. Or maybe she'll meet someone new.
[identity profile] cyclone-maxine.livejournal.com
Since being invited to join the Justice Society, Maxine "Cyclone" Hunkel had mostly kept to herself. Tried to be quiet, blend in with her surroundings, and not get into trouble. It wasn't that she wasn't confident in her abilities (she was at first, granted, but had been getting much better), but more that she still felt that she didn't deserve to even be in the same ROOM as these legendary heroes, no less be considered their peer.

Still, as she puttered aimlessly around the Brownstone, she couldn't help but smile to herself, and think about how lucky she was. She was working with her idols, helping them to make the world a better place. She'd actually become best friends with Stargirl, who was her absolute HERO, and was learning from Mr. Terrific, who, in Maxine's mind, couldn't have a more fitting codename.

Her training session for the day had gone well... far better than even she had expected. She felt, finally, that she was gaining real, strong control over her powers. Maybe one day soon... she'd be able to prove herself. Not to her teammates: they already seemed to accept her just fine. No... maybe soon, she could prove herself... to herself.

Grabbing a book off the shelf (she really didn't even bother to see what it was, she was just zoning a bit), she plopped herself down on a sofa, curling her legs underneath her.
[identity profile] greatest-zatara.livejournal.com
Zach sat on the couch in the living room of the Brownstone, half a dozen grimoires,two books on chemical compounds, and one booklet about knots floating around him as he jotted down notes. Tourist season was going to be hitting Florida soon, and he needed to crank up the act a little bit. Most of the crowds never gave a second thought to how the sets worked, which was the whole point. Stage magic wasn't as much arcane as it was sleight of hand and misdirection. Keep them looking at your left hand while the right one is still pulling rabbits.

He had to admit, supposedly being a member of the JSA had it's perks. It was a comfy enough place with relatively few interruptions during the slower parts of his work week, and he could be there when the ones his age were still in school.

And the sandwiches were awesome. One of them was circling too.

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