[identity profile] guy-lantern.livejournal.com

"Rental? check

beer? check

food on grill? check

awesome island getaway? check

completely hot ice goddess I’m in love with?... "

Guy looks over to the hammock Tora is lounging in.


"No douche bag super villains looking to ruin our vacation?"

Guy looks skyward, his ring telling him where the squad of rookie Lanterns were on their ‘training patrol’.

He grins.


Picking up a blue toned margarita in one hand and a cold beer in the other, he saunters over the white sand over to the shaded area where Tora has been relaxing. Setting the drink down by his love, he lets his toes wriggle in the sand as he plops down beside her.

"Hey beautiful, yer givin paradise an inferiority complex." He quips, taking in the tantalizing view of Tora Olofsdotter in a sapphire colored bikini.
[identity profile] guy-lantern.livejournal.com
The roof didn't have wheelchair access, but that's what power rings were for.
The building had been rebuilt a whole lot of times and in the last refit there had been a number of alterations. The basement was Arisa's pad, the ground floor was Warriors and the second story was Guy and Tora's place. The roof had once sported a private helicopter pad, during Guy's days as Warrior, but that was a few demolitions ago. After that it had featured a structure that served as a third apartment rented out by a rookie Lantern. Now it was just an open space used in common by the tenants. So Guy was putting it to use today.

The sunset over the city was a nice touch to the scene as Guy floated a cooler of beers to where they sat. Burgers grilled over a hibatchi, attended by a monkey in a chef's hat and apron, while a few gibbons made sure Tora had enough pillows and refilled her drink.

Getting in and out of the wheelchair still smarted allot, but the JLA medical facility coupled with Arisa's healing techniques had demoted life-long injuries into something that he just had to be patient with for a few more days.

Ok maybe a week or so.

Settling down, Guy soaks in the fading light of the day, the smell of cooking burgers and best of all, the sight of Tora.

"There's no place like home."
[identity profile] azure-avenger.livejournal.com
After the rescue party's return and some subsequent revelations, the Justice League has assembled to discuss the significance of those revelations - and verify their truth.

"I've scanned him every way I can, and everything I do tells me the same thing - 'Lex' is telling the truth. He's not insane, he's not lying. Batman is really in there, his body out of phase, and his mind enmeshed with Luthor. Honestly, I'd say this is one of our best-case scenarios - but it's still not good. By my calculations, we have a limited amount of time to get Batman back to normal before he fades away entirely."
[identity profile] toraolafsdotter.livejournal.com
The hush of the room is broken only by the pings and beeps of machines, all of them hooked to and transmitting information about the man currently laying in the hospital bed.

He's been still too long for Tora's comfort, and she was attempting to keep an eye out for any movement, any changes.

Not at the moment though, as she's curled up in a chair next to the bed, fast asleep.
[identity profile] beware-my-power.livejournal.com
The small rescue squad appears in the Alpha Centauri system, cloaked in magic to prevent detection, and invisibly encased within a power bubble provided by Green Lantern. Hal's ring passively scans, looking for traces of human life signs or Guy's ring - chirping when it has found both.

"Alright, team, we've got our targets."

The inside of the bubble shifts into a heads-up display, visible to the passengers. Small glowing dots appear, on the surface of Rann.

"We've got human life signs here and here - Lex and Guy - and we've got a Green Lantern power ring here. Our main objectives are Guy, first and foremost, and his ring, secondary. Since it'll be a lot easier to get him out if he's got the ring. Once we've got those things, we get out. Any reconnaissance you can do at the same time is great, but this is a rescue mission. Questions?"
[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] 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] 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] http://users.livejournal.com/_kip_/
The Justice League Watchtower has a highly sophisticated comm system that can send messages to individuals, to separate rooms, to separate floors or to the whole place. Right now, the entire system is activated. An emergency? Not quite. There is holiday music being played, from Vince Guaraldi to Nat King Cole to Ella Fitzgerald, classics all. And in the dining hall, a towering spruce tree has been erected. Atop a ladder, a young man sings along with the music as he carefully feels his way along the tree to hang lights. His usual attire of slacks and a neatly pressed shirt has been exchanged for jeans and a sweater with a red-nosed reindeer knitted into the fabric. Looks handmade, too.

Across a table near the front are at least eight pies of different sorts: fruit, chocolate, pumpkin, chess. Homemade, from the looks of it. A basket nearby seems to be brimming with cookies, too, and beside that basket are a few hot beverage dispensers labeled cocoa and mulled cider.

Someone is bringing the holiday spirit to the Watchtower.
[identity profile] guy-lantern.livejournal.com
Earlier in the day a horde of decidedly green monkeys were witnessed to have been carting furniture, laundry, appliances and other random household items out of the third story window of the building that hosts the bar known as 'Warriors'. Said simians proceeded to scale the side of the building and deposited their cargo onto the roof. A number of 'public disturbance' calls went out to the police, who in turn were later mollified by the building's proprietor...with some effort.

Now, standing in an newly 'empty' apartment, Guy looks around critically at the recently dried coat of primer on the walls as he makes ready to mix up a can of 'Grass Green' paint.
[identity profile] guy-lantern.livejournal.com
Consciousness creeps up on him like a big clumsy, and highly distracted, kitten. It's fuzzy, unfocused and pinches allot.

Guy's eyes feel like their welded shut, but he gets them to open. His first instinct is to sit up..



He gives that up and the lancing pain through his side settles back under the comfy blanket of painkillers. Instead he looks around. Yep, it's the watchtower medbay.
Better than County any day.
[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] toraolafsdotter.livejournal.com
Two figures shimmer into place on the teleport platform, in the midst of conversation.

"... sure that he won't find anything wrong with me."

Tora is trying to be understanding about all of this, but there's a faint note of exasperation in her words.
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com

It’s an unusually hot day in the city. Heat, cold, rain or shine, it doesn’t matter. The Postman always delivers. Well, at least that’s true enough for this particular delivery.


Warriors is doing decent business this afternoon. There is a game on the television and the taps are flowing. It’s more than enough on a day like this to bring in the patrons.


The gawky deliveryman has to rais his voice considerably to be heard of the din.


“Miss..Olafsdotter?  Is there a Miss Olafsdotter here??”


He looks around quizzically.

[identity profile] jla-villains.livejournal.com

Somehow, some way, the villain known as the Parasite has managed to walk, skulk, swim and crawl his way all of the way from Metropolis to somewhere he really doesn't know, and really doesn't want to be.

Slaughter Swamp.

"Hyurrr..." He puts his deformed hand to his head. He has travelled all of this way in an almost hypnotic daze, inexorably drawn to this locale filled with pain and suffering, and misery that he actually feels like he could absorb if he tried hard enough. He doesn't want to. He's drawn enough. For once, Rudy actually feels like he's full of power, too much power. More than he has when he gets close to Superman, or Supergirl, or anyone of the like. He feels fit to burst. and he has a feeling it's because he sucked up the soul of Solomon Grundy.

"Hyurrr... Bullcrap. No such thing as a soul. There's no such thing as a SOUL!" Parasite brings his fists down into the murky waters, splashing himself with the muck and dirt. It calms him slightly, but then that voice in his head starts again.

"You are not Cyrus Gold. I am Cyrus Gold. And this is my home. I died on a Saturday. You are not yet dead. But you will be. You have murdered me. I always come back whenever I am murdered. Tonight I will come back inside your disgusting shell, and this time I will only die when you die."

"Hyuuaaaaaaarrrrrrggghhhhhhhh!!!!!" Parasite clutches his head and forces it under the water, anything to drown out the voice, to drown out the moans and screams of every victim of Cyrus Gold, of every incarnation of Solomon Grundy, but it is not enough. And he rises slowly, arms falling to loll beside his waist.

"Rudy Jones died on an mild and measured Monday. Died on a Monday. Reborn on a Monday. Became Solomon Grundy. Solomon Grundy Parasite. Parasite Solomon Grundy. Hyurrr..." He staggers out of the knee-deep waters, and towards the lights of Gotham City. A new focus draws him now, and it's revenge. Two of the heroes that fought him last are in that city right now, and for some inexplicable reason he holds them accountable.

He will stop at nothing to consume them.

[identity profile] newtomorrowman.livejournal.com
After four days and a trek that's spanned half of America, David Reid has come full circle.

The old farmhouse sits still and silent, with the empty air of a home that hasn't been lived in in months or years. It's what he expected. He's been gone for a long time.

That still doesn't make it sting any less.

Magog looks up at his old home, taking in this building he spent the past six hours straight running to get to. He didn't stop running after leaving that abandoned barn in Smallville, not even for a moment. He just kept moving, running as fast as he could, as if by running fast enough he could somehow leave the hideous deed behind him. Now, three-hundred and sixty miles later, he's finally here, only to learn that isn't far enough. Not nearly far enough.

He came all this way, and now, he can't even bring himself to go through the door.
[identity profile] flame-of-green.livejournal.com
Kyle had been gone for a long time now.

Bea had tried very hard to keep her visions out of her head. She had thrown herself into her work, both Wayne Enterprise and super heroics. It had been enough at first. However, coming home to an empty apartment every night, after getting used to a constant visitor, was an effort.

It was then she realized how long it had been since she'd seen her best friend.

Picking up her cell, she dialed Tora. "Please, pick up," she said, counting the rings.
[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.


Mar. 31st, 2009 08:10 pm
[identity profile] jla-villains.livejournal.com
The Parasite is very, very hungry. Having been locked up for the best part of three months since the entire Brainiac incident, he's not had any decent contact with a delicious metahuman since that time, and good grief does he want to taste some power. The fun thing is, nobody knows he's even escaped from Stryker's Island Penitentiary.

An anonymous benefactor had slipped a rogue agent into the Science Police; the group that patrol the Alcatraz-esque facility. This agent had waited since Parasite's initial incarceration through to this week, just for the ideal time to slip the villain out and morph into an identical clone of him, so that his disappearance wouldn't be noticed for some time.

Of course, Parasite was very keen on draining this agent of his morphing power, but he was more curious as to who the man's employer was. He wouldn't talk but to say "They'll contact you", and given the small time frame, Parasite made good his escape.

So now Parasite is in Metropolis once more. Hiding in a very old safehouse of the Toyman's... Parasite's horrific maw curls into a grin as he remembers Schott's fate at the hands of Brainiac. Maybe it's Brainiac who engineered his escape! "Hyur hyur hyuurrrr..." There's an employer who pays well, even if his ultimate aims seem a little far-fetched.

Sitting on a colourful toy box, Parasite looks down at his body. That morphing power really would have been useful. And he wouldn't have all of these fresh scars if it hadn't been for that duo of bitches, Ice and Fire. "Second rate costumed adventurers at best..." He's still smarting after his few contacts with the two metas. But oh, how he would love to devour their powers... Ideally while they're chained up. Maybe naked. screaming. "Hyurr hyurr....."

Maybe he should get their attention. If this employer wants him so bad, he can pluck Parasite from the brink of defeat if needs be. He gets up, and turns around to rummage through the toybox. Now, what has Winslow left here for Parasite to play with...


Two days later, and the heavily cloaked Parasite is walking through Midtown Manhattan having driven there in one of Toyman's novelty vans. As he reaches the front of the Empire State Building, he throws off his cloak to reveal his body, strapped with candy canes. "Everybody pile your damn wallets, cells and jewellery right in fronta me!! These candy canes are all radioactive isotopes an' I'll blow this island sky high if I don't get everything I want!"

And everyone he wants. He knows Fire and Ice operate in this area, so it's just a matter of time. "Hyurrr."


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