[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.
[identity profile] green-shield.livejournal.com
She grits her teeth. "This is your fault."
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
There is a place beyond Reality.

Desire walks the corridors of her own empty shell, approaching his empty heart. For Desire is not the filling of the heart, but the hollow ache within it.

Some people see today as a time for lovers to come together. Others see today as just another day. And others see it as a time to yearn for what they lack. As couples move through the world before them, many of those without a partner Desire someone to share their lives with.

Desire was there when the first Valentine was imprisoned, marrying young couples in secret despite the Emperor’s decree – after all, single men make better soldiers than married men. And Desire fuels a need for an army. And Desire draws young couples together.

Desire was there when the Christian church absorbed the fertility rites of Luperci into a Christian celebration of love. St. Valentine’s Day is much more chaste than Luperci ever was – and chastity feeds Desire.

He is there today, of course. Looking out on the worlds, to taste herself in hidden empty hearts.

He is everywhere there is Desire. And she smiles.
[identity profile] ibn-al-xuff.livejournal.com
The ritual to heal Amelia is progressing.

Ibn carefully monitor's their vital signs and then flinches. Something isn't right. He speaks, only with great difficulty. "I believe there may be an external contamination. Some sort of attack."
[identity profile] ibn-al-xuff.livejournal.com
It is difficult to spiritually cleanse a room where so many souls have passed through; some have suffered before passing the veil. He pours the fresh water into his silver bowl and mixes the salt until it becomes diluted and the water clears. This is not ordinary table salt. It was mined in a very sacred place in India. It will soak in the negative energies of the area.

There are two beds. Ms. Zukov is resting in her bed. The other one is for her brother.

"I have developed an elixir with the help of Ms. Strong that I believe will alleviate Ms. Zukov's condition. It will force the two of you into an accelerated cycle of healing. This elixir shall create a mental bridge between the two of you. As you are siblings and have similar bio-rhythmus, you will help moderate each other. You will adapt to each other’s energies. This will allow Ms. Zukov to tune her energies into less self destructive cycles, but it will for a short time cause added stress to Mr. Zukov. However, I believe you will quickly even each other out.”

Ibn pauses for a moment, checking vitals. “There is a possibility that this bridge will cause a sharing of memories or dreams. It is merely a side-effect and should cause no danger unless the two of you fight it. Are there any questions?”


Jan. 2nd, 2008 10:50 pm
[identity profile] amelia-z.livejournal.com
E Coli O157:H7
Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, dermatosparaxis type
Elastin degrading enzyme
Electron beam computerized tomography
Electroshock therapy
Emery-Dreifuss muscular dystrophy
End-stage renal disease
Endotracheal tube

Amelia coughs, the sound seeming to resonate through her skull. She doesn't feel quite in her body, but somehow its own weight is crushing down on her. She feels like she's gulping for air, and in seconds she feels her body expand as she pulls in oxygen.

Brilliant colors rip across her sight, her migraine seeming to flex lines across the visual landscape.

Everything calms for a moment.

Her eyes blink a few times and move to the only form she can distinguish in the room.
[identity profile] blind-will.livejournal.com
Its a couple days past the New Year. Travis has healed up, mostly, from his previous encounters. The scars will be there for another week or so, and assessments say that it'll be a while before all the broken bones are as strong as they should be, but otherwise, he's moving around again, thanks to Tara, Tefe, his ring, and a little help from his encounter with Hal Jordan.

And then he left again. This time it was with a note to Tara, saying he had something he needed to finish, and that he'd be back.

When he does return, a few hours later, he has a new black eye, his lip is swollen and bloody, and there's a new bullet hole in his shoulder, currently being patched back up by the ring. Despite it, he doesn't look all that displeased with the situation, though his expression is a serious one.

*Travis Grey, reporting back. Sand, do you have a few moments?*
[identity profile] sand-hawkins.livejournal.com
...to be with the one you love."   So the lyric goes.

Doesn't hurt if it's Christmas Eve either.

Last year, Jerry Lee's closed its doors on Christmas Eve at around 2 PM...there wasn't much of a dinner crowd normally.

This year, they're open for a private party.  Both rooms. full band, full kitchen service, including soda jerk.  Only thing closed are the bars.   Guests want to tie one on, they can do it after they leave - no sense making Chimp and Corrine feel uncomfortable.

This was a time to celebrate.  The entire D'aubigne family's been brought to justice. Travis is safe and healing.  Everyone's back in the same dimension and timespace for the first time in months.

And Sand was bound and determined to celebrate it.  With his extended family and friends.

Civvies preferred, although if people felt they needed to or had to be in costume, keep it low key - Sand told the establishment that a couple of metas were in his circle of friends.  The owner had this odd smirk about him when he said that, but he didn't press.

He was the first person there, going over the menu and the music selection.  The 40's swing was as good as ever - the 50's room, by request, had a killer rock/blues band that also did some 60's. 

Now all he needed were some guests...
[identity profile] blind-will.livejournal.com
He honestly never expected to wake up.

He certainly never expected to wake up like this. Its warm, he can feel a soft bed underneath him. He can hear the music in the background. The ring has recorded all of the near moments in the past few days, while it put him in a healing coma, and Tara, Tefe and whoever they could call in did everything they could, which was still almost not enough a dozen times or more.
But he'll check that later. Even his usual instinct to check the ring's chronometer and mission objectives passes as he takes in the surroundings.

He knows he's still hurt. Broken bones are going to be a while before they fully mend, a good number of pretty horrific scars will be a week before they'll finish fading, and his smile will be missing some teeth for almost as long. But he's alive.

Just as important, for the moment, there's the feel of /her/ to everything. The temperature in the room, the way the bed is made, the volume of the blues in the background, all the little details that one would miss if they weren't used to a world of nothing but sound and feel.

And so, for the first time in all that time, he stirs, trying to feel her presence. They have a lot to talk about.
[identity profile] green-shield.livejournal.com
But, actual thought process on this one? Classically bad.

She's running on a least a strained ankle, if not broken one. Her left arm - recently healed, took another hit which made her shot against Daddy Phillip go wild. Her back hurt from the burn Crystal gave her - and she was pretty sure she wasn't in Idaho which meant the Outsiders were likely going to have a bitch of a time finding her and getting her out of this trap.

Breathlessly, she ducks behind some rocks. She won't win this one. This is a given. She's going to take out as many of Corrine's dysfunctional family as she could before they sent her to God though.
[identity profile] blind-will.livejournal.com
He wakes up, sort of, to the sounds he always hears. The screams, the promises that 'he don't mean it, he's just drunk' are quickly drowned out by the sounds from below. The sounds of the ghettoes. Traffic, people, shouts.
Unlike usual though, for some reason, he doesn't start awake. Then he realizes... its the music, 60's blues rising from one of the apartments down below him.

'Mothers, tell your children,
Not to do as I have done.
Spend your lives in sin and misery,
In the house of the Rising Sun.'

'I've got one foot on the platform,
One foot on the train,
I'm going back to New Orleans,
To wear that ball and chain.'

He smiles, before coughing. Blood.
That's ok. It reminds him of the music Tara used to play, when he could sleep. When he could wake up and feel invulnerable, because she believed he could do anything... in the morning.
Not feeling up to using the ring to rise in his usual fashion, he puts his hand down to help push himself up, and it slips, sending him back to lying down, slightly propped by a chimney.

A few moments of confusion, and he realizes its blood. His own. His jacket is still full of holes - tatters by now mostly. Somehow the ring isn't covering him in his 'costume' anymore. No more black leathers, just some old, comfortable things.
Then he realizes that almost everything he's getting is through sound and touch. The ring has plenty of charge left... its only been a couple hours, but its using everything it can to try and keep him stapled together.

And he smiles again. Its cold up here... a lot colder than he remembers space being. Thinking back, he realizes that his gambit against Sur was only half bluffing. The ring, without anywhere to go, just gives him the power to tilt at windmills. Things haven't gotten better. No matter how hard he's fought, the next time he goes out, everything looks and sounds the same.

And if he no longer keeps fighting with all his will... the real power for the ring, maybe it will be one less poor kid, and maybe then he can sleep.
[identity profile] onthecase.livejournal.com
It's been a bit since the attack. He's still sore. But he's now feeling up to taking a little trip.

He hobbles to the garage, leaning on the cane he's been given. He hates this cane... as if he didn't look ridiculous enough before, now he's got a cane. But at least he can shake it at people like the good curmudgeon he is.

He opens the door, already knowing that she'll be there.

"Tara? C'mon. We need to go on a field trip."


Dec. 5th, 2007 01:29 am
[identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
A hot bath is exactly what Corrine needed. After soaking to prunish-feel with a good book, she's wiping condensation from the mirror to comb out her hair. It's been quiet recently. Quiet is good. It's given her a lot of time to focus on herself, which is nice, and get some research done on things that still don't make sense.

Mmm. Right now, she's actually thinking about just slipping into her pajamas and flopping down in front of a good movie. There's hot chocolate to be had and she has a bag of mini-marshmallows stashed away. Yeah... that sounds perfect.

There's another sound, an actual one. She closes the cabinet mirror, then turns to make sure she's actually seeing what she thinks. It's like a super-awesome shiny disco-ball.

Yeah. Definitely report this, pron--
[identity profile] green-shield.livejournal.com
Corrine's back. Corrine is back and being Corrine and while Tara is very supportive of superhero weirdness screwing with relationships - after over two years of perfect memory it still makes no damn sense. Someone should be ecstatic! someone should be crying with happiness, dropping to their knees and thanking God that life goes on in this business and life is often GOOD. And wonderful and...

...and she can't sleep. Oh, she doesn't need much. About 4-6 hours a week generates all the chemicals she needs. But at best it's been 2 here and 2 there. You'd think with a Green Lantern space jockey boyfriend ex, she'd be used to waking up with ice cold sheets. she keeps looking for Christie, but she's a rotten detective to be completely honest. She cooked until the Outsider's headquarters smelled like an Italian restaurant in New York. Now with her still fractured arm cooking is more difficult. She can't distract herself with archery either. Much of the chemistry work takes two hands as well.

Soo she sits in the TV room at the base, watching some PBS thing with old blues singers from the '50's and '60's strutting their stuff for public funds at this ungodly hour. Unsurprisingly, a band she's been avoiding comes on. Worse, they're really, really good.

When you complain - and criticize
I feel I'm nothing, in your eyes
It makes me feel - like giving up ...

Oh, oh no!
Don't bring me down,

no no no no

Oh babe! Oh no,
Don't bring me down...

"Where's the damn remote?" she mumbles to herself.
[identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
It would be an exaggeration to say Corrine is eating everything in the Outsider's kitchen. To be truly precise, it would be better to say she is eating at least one of everything in the Outsider's kitchen.

Okay, so she's hit the coffee pot like four times now. Coffee doesn't really count, though, because they keep ten tons of the crap around 'lest Trevor should one day run out. Little things like that haven't changed. Someone is still buying Swiss Miss pudding cups, Gatorade and fresh veggies regularly.

Corrine's sampled every one of Tara's dishes, and paired every kind of fresh veggie with dip or peanut butter; and syrup once, just to try. The ice cream, the sherbet, and the pudding cups all got tried, one spoonful for each. Someone also lost a spoonful of Cherry Garcia, and Corrine had passingly chuckled about the thought of leaving a post-it note of apology inside. It occurred to her about then that she was not thinking that out so much, as missing a spoonful of your ice cream is far better than having a blue sticky note in it.

A look in an as-yet untouched cabinet brings her to glass bottles of Stewart's root beer and a box of Tootsie Rolls. She grabs three bottles and a handful of chocolates and makes her way back to the cluttered table.
[identity profile] dr-black-light.livejournal.com

(All news stations currently airing footage of the Cuba invasion suddenly cut to a live feed with the caption 'Live in Cuba'.  On the video screen...well, the costume of the man suggests that of Kobra himself.  The face of the man in the costume, however, should be recognized by the world as none other than Dr. Light.)

"Citizensss of the world.  I am Lord Naga, ssssoverign ruler of Cuba.

'Many of you may have thought me dead, murdered at the handsss of Black Adam and his band of thugsss.  I did, in fact, die...and have arisen again by the grace and will of Kali.

"Since my death, many of the world's so-called heroessss have opposed the plans of my organization - loyal followers whose role was to lure the world into a false sense of sssecurity.

"Your sssecurity is now at an end. Cuba, a once strong land that has grown as old and decrepit as it's leader, is now a ssssoverign nation under my direct command.  You were told of this by my second in command, Slyther.  And yet you still chose to defy my termsss.

(The camera pans over to show Sand Hawkins, Brainwave, and Caleb Zukov on camera, all surrounded by armed guards...then moves back to Kobra, with Ibn Head now being shown, trapped and bound inside a light construct.)

"The Justice Sssociety of America.  The last ones to oppossse me before the ruler of Kahndaq...aided at the time, by the way, by the man called Brainwave...murdered me in cold blood.  We have video proof of this...affront to our ssssociety."

(He looks at Ibn)  "I've been told that this man...also among the adventurers...is a man of ssssome importance. To me...he is nothing."

(Ibn is unceremoniously thrown off camera by the light construct.  Seconds later, Brainwave appears on the screen.)

"Thisss one, however, shall be tried in 15 minutes under Kobra law for aiding and abetting Black Adam of Khandaq in my murder.  You will get to witnesssss this affront first hand, should your nationssss choose to air it."

"In the meantime, the 24 hour deadline that the United Nations has to accept my sssoverign rule has now shrunk to one hour.  If we do not have confirmation that this has been done...well, we're well aware of the Green Lantern playing guard dog over Florida.  Cuba is useful, but hardly the only ssssuch area.  We will simply leave, take Cuba's nuclear sssstockpile WITH us, and obliterate the island and all of its inhabitantssss...which currently include the United States military stationed at Guantanamo as well as these fine representativessss of the Justice Society."

"You have one hour.  Choosssse well.  So speakssss Kobra."

[identity profile] amelia-z.livejournal.com
(Continuation from here)

Amelia feels like she's seen too much. Her brain is full and brimming, actually working clearly for the first time in months. The visions bring some clarity, though it's fleeting. So the witch was right. I need to keep braat away from the blondes.

Babies. Amelia shudders. Ew.

Her attitude towards the spherical visitor has been, up until now, rather hostile. Even if she's a little insulted, she's intrigued. She won't disturb the object anymore, not even trying to get a better 'look' at it. Hands on knees, Amelia sinks down to the floor, cross-legged in front of the object. Being logical? This could be a trap, or a weapon. Maybe the entire purpose is to confuse her; not that it's an accomplishment at this point in time. Finding out if it's specifically magical would be risky in her state.

It isn't doing anything again. She hefts a fist under her chin, propping her elbow on a knee. She'll wait. Eventually it'll do something or go away, right? It can't just spin there, forever--
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
Guantánamo is the easternmost province of Cuba. Its capital is also called Guantánamo. Other towns include Baracoa. The province surrounds the important U.S. Navy base at Guantánamo Bay.

Since the 1970's, the base was used to house Cuban and Haitan refugees. Since 2002, it's been the primary detention camp used on the War on Terror, and a lightning rod for controversy.

Lightning prepares to strike as 7 people...and one chimp...prepare to reach ground.
[identity profile] green-shield.livejournal.com
(Scene is Pre-Cuba, post-Sibs)

"I told you why we're headed to the mall."

Tara Strong may have one of her rare days off (blame Sand for ordering her to take one), but she's not in a good mood. This is despite seeing her best friend - and even better - her best friend on a day where the meds aren't acting like too much of a hurricane on her system and there's no supervillains to smack round or homework.

"I officially have to look good naked again."


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