[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] jla-goldenage.livejournal.com
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 know...no. 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] 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.


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."
[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] http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/
Not his ideal venue, not his first choice of a secure environment, but if Stephanie is more - or less - than what she seems, Batman could scarcely find a place with better access to the world's most powerful beings than the JLA Watchtower. The place also houses mystics and a damned good telepath in the Martian Manhunter. Here he can get answers.

A hand on Spoiler's shoulder the whole way, Batman barely twitches in the aftermath of the stomach-twisting teleporter trip, and once they're in place (perhaps the very second he is solid enough to move) he starts long-legged strides toward the conference room.

"Don't touch a damned thing or say a damned thing without permission," he advises in a low growl that implies at the end, or else.

But once they're at the conference room? He lets her go in alone.
[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] proto-humanist.livejournal.com
Far beneath the public facade of Savage's manor home on New Albion - below even the levels which house the barracks for his new recruits and for the army he has yet to build - here, one finds some of the secrets of New Albion. Amongst them, a detention cell, especially constructed to hold one man.

The failsafes and monitoring devices are nontraditional - mechanical triggers, rather than electronic ones. Pressure plates, and wires. Chemically-based detection devices. In fact, no electronic devices of any kind are to be found in the cell.

"I hope you appreciate the great effort I have gone to, to keep you here. I needed to make sure certain things would go unobserved until the time was right."
[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.
[identity profile] kara-zor-l.livejournal.com
Karen Starr.

Kara Zor-L was using that name actively again. Just as she was actively setting up Starrware again. She'd let too much fall to the wayside in recent years, and now that she knew where she was from (and now that there was another Super version of her flying around), Kara needed to do more to give her life meaning. Part of that meant giving more to her personal life. She couldn't just be a hero. She couldn't just live in her costume.

She needed a life.

Granted, the Justice Society would always be a part of that life. They were, after all, family.

Which was why she was currently in the kitchen of the Brownstone, still dressed in her non-Power Girl work clothes, hunting for pie. Or cake. Something sweet.

[identity profile] 3x2-9yz-4a.livejournal.com
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] swiftjustice.livejournal.com
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] 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] anaturalgreen.livejournal.com
They'd all been informed that there was a new guy coming to meet with the JSA, a relative of Zatanna.

So Jennie-Lynn was there, early even, to greet him when he came by the Brownstone. She wants to make sure he feels welcome, and if she has to drag her teammates there by their ears, she wouldn't hesitate.
[identity profile] jla-alcatraz.livejournal.com
"Seig heil!" They are few, but the Neo-Nazis of San Francisco all salute as Red Panzer strides into the boardroom of the People's Nationalist Party HQ for California. Grinning to himself, he takes to the podium.

"For too long has your noble city been at the mercy of the weak among you! For too long has the government been run by the bleeding-heart liberal, the Jew, the black, the Hispanic, and the homosexual!" This generates a chorus of supportive jeers throughout the boardroom. Not all those present are skinhead-stereotypes, but wealthy business owners, "concerned" mothers, and impressionable youths. "No more! I have freed myself from Alcatraz so that I may free you of this tyranny!!"

"Seig heil!" All in attendance stand, and salute. "I have made contact with one of my fellow freedom fighters, known to many as Captain Nazi!" The grin on Red Panzer's face widens. "With injuries he survived the battle against the symbol of the Liberals, Superman, but he has vowed that once he is in full health, he will join us on our crusade!!"

Cheers throughout the room, and the gesturing from silence from the Red Panzer. "Our movement starts today! Tell your families, your friends, and all your loved ones, that the time for freedom is now! Freedom from the tyranny of America and the start of the freedom of Fascism!"
[identity profile] spirit-of-truth.livejournal.com
"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] 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] chemo-therapy.livejournal.com
Chemo switches on. "GG56I." It's been a while since it was last active. After the chess match with Calculator, it was as if the increased sentience had put Noah off releasing the walking vat again. But this time, it's in full-sized mode, as the Society require a distraction from the rather overt assassination earlier today, and as far as distractions go, the giant, green, glowing container, is a massive one. "88L." Stepping from a hangar, long disused, in an area that during the war was an airstrip, but is now a part of the burgeoning downtown, Chemo stands to full height, towering above the houses and shops.

People start screaming. People start running. It has orders. There's a prison down the road, and Calculator has ordered Chemo to dissolve one wall, and cause some chaos. Chemo begins to stride down the street, smashing cars, and smashing anyone unfortunate enough to be in the way. It's like King Kong, but toxic, and totally emotionless. When Chemo gets to the end of the street, it turns. That way. But then it stops. It turns another way. That way. It stops again.

"Prison secondary. Metropolis primary. New directive. Break Superman." Chemo starts going back the way it came, and straight towards the busy area of downtown.


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