[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] 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
Mogo, the planet Green Lantern. Besides being a useful member and training facility for the revived Corps, Mogo has served as something of a mascot. "Look!" the Green Lanterns say, "We have a planet! Aren't we boss?"

Little do they know, there is a prophecy...

The sun Mogo is currently orbiting grows dim, as a shimmering darkness slowly eclipses it. Only after a moment is the shape visible, the twisted spires and blinking lights of the most wicked city in the universe. Ranx...the Sentient City!

Inside of Ranx, the mummy-like form of Enkafos crosses his arms, deep in thought. Finally, he gives a nod, and within the twisted, screaming bowls of the living city, child like forms begin to multiply. The Children of the White Lobe...turned into living bombs by the machinations of Seer Ruggle, Bomb Mistress of Rorc!

"It is time." Enkafos speaks, his dry, dusty voice sending a shiver of fear down the spine of the most hardened Sinestro Corps warrior. "The stars are right. Today...the planet Mogo dies."

And Ranx, the being the Guardians thought fated to destroy Mogo so many thousands of years ago, bellows a war cry as hundreds of yellow armored fearmongers fly out of its armored recesses, screaming the war cry...of the Sinestro Corps!
[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] jla-glcorps.livejournal.com
The small group of Green Lanterns who decided to pay Qward a visit are on their way back, and the assembled Guardians of the Universe are waiting on the Oan side of the portal for their return, managing to look as stern and disapproving as ever.


May. 4th, 2009 10:43 am
[identity profile] guy-lantern.livejournal.com
Creating a warp isn't kiddie stuff. Creating a warp into a parallel universe is major league. Pinpointing a trans dimensional warp to open at the cusp of a planetary atmosphere?
Now that’s a trick.

Guy should have bought a lottery ticket today, because he's on.

The emerald aperture opens for but a few seconds and the band of Green Lanterns come blazing out of it at speeds that ignite the atmosphere around them, turning each of them into veritable shooting stars as they careen at breakneck speeds towards the surface of Qward.

Dragging a cluster of asteroids behind him, Guy now uses the power of his ring, coupled with their current velocity, to fling the large debris ahead of them. The torrent of rock and minerals become a literal storm of hyper-accelerated particles raining down on the battlements and garrisons of the planet bellow.

"Knock knock, ya bastards!!"
[identity profile] guy-lantern.livejournal.com

That was hours ago, and there's still trainee brains and blood on his face.

It's a bad situation and it could have been worse. He doesn't do 'scared' but Guy is grim. The rookies are spooked and there are too few of the vets around to bolster their morale.
He isn't the cool and collected military type to inspire the troops that John is.
He doesn't have the frickin 'Never fear! Ion is here!' rep Kyle does.
Hell, he doesn't even have the "Love me or hate me, but you do know me" groove Hal has.
So he plays to his strengths, Asshole.

"Git yer butt in gear rook!" he snarls at a wide-eyed trainee, standing amid the ruined structure.
"Yer pulling sewer clean-up duty if I don't see you doin double time NOW!"

Shaken out the state of shock, the mauve skinned alien blinks it's golden eyes and scurries quickly to the building indicated by the senior Lantern.

Gardner moves on and rousts more groups of rookies, the white circles on their uniforms still lacking of the lantern insignia that would mark them as full fledged GLs, and cajoles them back into action. Tasks and hard labor get dolled out like candy, winning him sullen glares and resentful looks amid the aftermath of the raid. He's sure to garner the rep of 'heartless dick' among the recruits before the day is done. It's easily a fair trade. Take away those idle moments to doubt and fear in, and replace them with a jerk they can unite over in their mutual resent.
Team building, Guy Gardner style.

It isn't until the gore on his face begins to crust and flake off that he notices his own condition. He's beat and smells like road kill. Nothing he'd want Tora to see.

He hasn't checked in yet. She'd understand, but then again he's not going to blow it by taking her for granted either. No making that mistake again.

A quick stop at the barracks affords him a quick shower and then he makes a trans-galactic call.

The JLA Watchtower receives the signal requesting Ice's comm. ID.

It Begins

Apr. 4th, 2009 04:17 pm
[identity profile] bewaresinestro.livejournal.com
"Sector interceptors primed!"

"Reality coloactors ready!"

"Dimensional drill operational!"

Sinestro smiles, hovering in front of his army. One thousand of the greatest potential fearmongers in the universe, all at arms and ready to wage war on their opposite number, the Guardians of the Universe. It was nearly time. "My friends! What is our ambition?!"

"Order! Order! ORDER!" The assembly of rogues, sociopaths, and murderers chanted with religious ecstasy.

"And how will we bring that perfect order?!" Sinestro demanded of his horde.

And they answered in kind. "Fear! Fear! FEAR!"

"And what is the fate of the followers of a light that would oppose us?!" 


"Qwardians." Sinestro spoke in a normal tone of voice, "Now is the opportune moment you were looking for."

Terrified faces nodded, and a large, yellow drill tore a hole in space and time. Outside of the gleaming bubble sat Oa, the center of the universe, citadel of law, order, and decency.

Tonight, Sinestro would see the home of those he once called master burn. "SINESTRO CORPS, ATTACK!" he called, rocketing out into the positive reality, his followers soaring out around him like a yellow rain of locusts rising from nowhere to rip the planet clean!
[identity profile] spirit-of-truth.livejournal.com
There was the click of a shutter behind her. Followed by a second one.

Looking over her shoulder, Diana spots two young women, camera phones held out in front of them in her direction.

She sighs and turns back to the loaf of bread in her hand, and to her companion.

"Do you think one baguette would be enough?"
[identity profile] last-lantern.livejournal.com
The jingling of a bell near the front door of the Warrior's bar signals the arrival of another patron, one that will be familiar to the owner, if not most of the bar's staff. He casts about the room, looking this way and that, frowning when he realizes that he is the first to arrive. He simply stands for a moment, looking; it's been quite a while since he's been in Guy's bar, but the good times that he has shared with his fellow Lanterns in this place instantly come flooding back. A smile pulls at the edges of Kyle's lips as his eyes sweep over the decor.

"You can go ahead and seat yourself. The waitress will be right over," comes an explanation from one of the staff.

"Thanks. I'm just meeting a few folks," Kyle replies, nodding to the woman and making his way over to a vacant booth. The vinyl creaks as he slides into the booth, looking outside. It's the middle of the day, but the winter clouds obscure the sun, and Kyle lifts his hand to his mouth, breathing into them, rubbing his hands together. It's still cold outside and probably will stay that way for some time.

"I'm waiting until a few other folks get here," he says, waving the waitress off with a smile.

Hal had called this meeting, but he was nowhere in sight. Not surprising that he would be late. Ah, well. Kyle reaches for the menu, idly flipping through it; standard bar fare, the pickings are fairly slim. He'd only caught the tail end of the other Lanterns' conversation during the Christmas Party on the Watchtower  - having been completely engrossed in the green-haired woman he'd met that night - but Kyle has a feeling he knows what this is about.

Sinestro's back, and this time, he's not alone.

[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.
[identity profile] theotherlantern.livejournal.com
It wasn't the next day like they'd originally planned. Trying to catch up on the lives they lost led them in different directions, and of course they found issues that needed their immediate attention. Diana had a lead on some Amazonians, while John had to get up to speed on his own architectural firm's current projects, lest they fall apart. The move from New York to Detroit was a surprising one for Shining Light, but he can piece together the logic behind it after the fact. After a call to Shayera Thal, he was able to fill in a few blanks. The Devil's Night partnership with Hawkwoman really brought home how much help this town, his hometown, needs. It's no easy task... there's plenty that needs doing.

But that's work, and he's trying to give it a rest for tonight, to deal with that other thought that's been interrupting his thought processes with some regularity. The fact that he was apparently in love with Wonder Woman, and now he's got to figure out how he managed to work that perfect storm of attraction all over again. It's going to be awkward. He's going to fumble through things, and he hates the thought of it. But she's interested in figuring it out, too, so he's got to hold onto that.

This is a dinner date, at a nice place, to boot, and he's meeting her here, to try and minimize the weirdness that comes from the fact that he's already sharing an apartment with her. He's glad he owns comfortable couches. He's waiting in a nice dark suit, with a red shirt and black tie. Looking about as smooth as he can look, which is pretty damn smooth, if he does say so himself. Well, it would be, if he could stop sweating this whole idea that he's worthy of the woman that's coming to meet him.

Just think about that kiss. She made the upshirt move. She might not be as chaste as everyone thinks she is. She was into it. She's a woman just like anyone else.

She's a woman like no one else.
[identity profile] delphicgreen.livejournal.com
"All those currently involved in combat with the replicants. We have new information regarding them. They are not robots. They are created sentient beings with both mechanical and organic parts. Non-lethal measures are to be used."

Oracle is very greatful for the synthesized voice. It disguises the fact that her throat is tightening up as she thinks about the complications and horror involved. The replicants are just human enough to understand that there is something wrong. Not to mention those who have been destroying these as if they were machines.
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
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] theotherlantern.livejournal.com
John Stewart is slumped back against a chair, jaw slacked and eyes wide in astonishment as he sifts through the files at the database archived at the Watchtower.

He'd felt something was wrong immediately, when he found himself in the midst of a pitched battle against dueling Mordrus with no memory of how he got there, but it's easy to chalk up unexplainable phenomena to natural happenstance when dealing with these mystical types. Nothing ever makes sense around them.

But coming back to reality, he couldn't shake that sense of wrong. Things everywhere seemed a bit out of place - that eerie sense of subtle wrong that you tend to get when you're in another dimension.

But this isn't a parallel universe. This is home.

And judging from what he's looking at now... he's lost more than a year of his life.

His mouth is agape, and his eyes are starting to burn a little.
[identity profile] lord-mordru.livejournal.com
The heroes of Earth had the temerity to assault him directly - that was not unexpected. That they had carefully planned to stall his mind-controlled minions, the Legion of Super-Heroes, was certainly not surprising.

That they had managed to rescue Saturn Girl and free the Legionnaires from his control was another matter entirely.

Now the elder Mordru stands near his younger counterpart, flanking a glowing orb of raw time, and rages against those arrayed against him.

"NO! This should not be happening - this was not the way it was foreseen!" Anger and desperation tinges his voice. "We'll kill you all!"
[identity profile] jla-extras2.livejournal.com
As the other two teams make their exit, Brainiac Five glances at the powerhouses who remain - the elite few who will have to keep Mordru preoccupied until the other teams can succeed and converge.

"I've activated the satellite's automated defenses, which should keep it intact for a while against the demons. If we fail, though, I don't imagine we'll need it for a ride home."

He taps a key on his omnicom, activating the satellite transporter system, to put the team right in the thick of things - at the feet of two twelve-foot tall incarnations of Mordru, standing around a swirling nebula of raw time - with a young Billy Batson nearby, half-trapped in a stone obelisk.
[identity profile] elfinlantern.livejournal.com
Maybe it was the discussion with Kilowog.

Maybe it was the complete silence from Hal.

Maybe it was his complete lack of a response when she tried to get ahold of him after she couldn't find anyone who had seen him recently.

Who knows what caused her to decide to look in on him. Probably some of all of the above.

Arisia lands on the deck of his place, looking in through the plate glass door, trying to see if she's going to be walking in on something she'd really rather not.
[identity profile] metromarvel.livejournal.com

Warftown Harbor, around noon. A hunched, pudgy man sits on a bench, his back to what could charitably be called water, but Metropolitans called Hob's River. The worn old workhorse of the City of Tomorrow, Hob's River fought a continual battle with polution, filth, mutated fish, and Greenpeace activists trying to get the whole thing dammed up before it spreads. The city hustled and bustled without an ounce of shame as a hundred busniesses great and small tighten their iron grip on the time and attention of the average person, allowing a blessed few minutes of peace, relaxation, and needed sustinance, known to lesser mortals as lunch hour. Well, for regular workers, at least. Then there are the strangers, the freaks, the night people, criminals, police officers, prostitutes, delivery people...

...and reporters. The news never sleeps, and therefore a reporter has to catch what food and rest he or she can whenever possible. It's merely fortune that Clark Kent is able to enjoy a freshly purchased chili dog. Sure, no one to eat with except for the occasional snickering group of teenagers murmering the latest fat jokes, but that's one of the downsides to super hearing, Clark has told himself over the years. And, for once...Clark looks left. Clark looks right. Wow, no interuptions. The dog rises, slowly, Clark opening his mouth and closing his eyes in anticipation...

"What is that thing?!" Someone screams.

...it can wait for a bite, Clark thinks, squeezing his eyes shut and getting closer...

"It's unstoppable..." Another man shouts, "...some kind of watery collossus!"


"Hasn't that allready been used?"

"You try coming up with a good name on the fly!"


"Oh God!" A woman shouts, "Those arguing monster-namers have been grabbed by its terrible seaweed tentacles! Who will save them?!"

Damn it, Clark sighs, looks whistfully at his chili dog, and hands it to the little stray dog that always seems to find his way to Kent in situations like this. "This looks like a job for..." Adjusting his tie, Clark looks left, right, and seeing that chaos is reigning, turns around. "....golly."

Six stories tall, at least, the green-gray thing is vaguely humanoid in shape, a hunched beast with a small head, beady red eyes, iron hard slimy toad's skin, long, ropey limbs ending in clawed fingers, and covered by a hundred layers of thick...glowing seaweed, that move, no, slither with dread purpose, a pair of innocent bystanders getting closer and closer to...a cut runs out along the thing's gut, it hunches up a little, and a second mouth, a massive jaw, forms in its stomach! The Filth King's horrible tounge licks its teeth, gray gunk dripping from the maw as...

...it screams from its upper mouth, the smell of burning seaweed filling the air as a blue and red blur surges forward, blasting the set of seaweed tentacles into fried atoms and quickly grabbing the pair of bystanders! Landing on a nearby Stop-An-Shop, Superman looks over the sheepish pair and decides there's only one thing to do. "It's name is the Filth King, I think. Aquaman showed me a picture in an old Atlantean book of legends. Go! Get out of here! The Science Police should be here soon, I'll hold it off until then!" And with that, Superman kicks into the air, charging through the stratosphere...

...only to be blasted with a hunk of the gray goop, slamming into the ground, the Man of Steel groans, feeling his strength start to subtly ebb away as he's exposed to the toxic loogie from hell. Superman struggles, aiming his heat vision to try and melt through his prison, or at least weaken it enough to break out of, but even as it begins to work, the Man of Steel cannot escape one, overriding thought. 'I might need some help on this one...'

[identity profile] lord-mordru.livejournal.com
The younger Mordru returns to the Rock of Eternity - greeting his elder counterpart with a curt nod.

"Constantine will do as we require. We can use Nimue Ravensong as the substitute. Have you made the preparations?"

His older incarnation nods in confirmation, and speaks. "I foresee that we will also require an extra pawn, amongst the heroes. I have selected an agent that we can pull from the threads of time. His.. condition will necessitate placing him where he has access to someone with vast scientific acumen."

Both men moves towards the slumped, chained figure of Billy Batson - raising their hands, allowing the electrified power of Shazam to course through them, in unison.

"This will not go unnoticed, you realize."

"I would be a fool to assume otherwise."

Acting as one, the twin selves of the Chaos Sorcerer plunge their hands into the raw essence of time itself - and pull.


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