[identity profile] gcpd-mcu.livejournal.com
 Captain Maggie Sawyer had been in a foul mood for awhile now. First that lunatic Johnny Sorrow killed nearly everyone working at Blackgate, unleashing it's criminals on the populace. Second that crazy preacher put the whole city under some kind of mind control in the name of some alien god. She'd been about to put a hole through that flaming psycho, Doctor Phosphorus', head when Sorrow reappears and backhands her into unconsciousness. And during that time the GCPD building was destroyed, forcing them to regroup elsewhere. And as if to add insult to injury, this new drug craze took root and now if she was hearing things right another new syndicate was making moves into Gotham. Does it ever fucking stop?

Maggie was currently taking a break, neither the albino nor the metal man were saying anything relevant.
[identity profile] aflyinggrayson.livejournal.com
Twenty minutes have passed since Dick told Barbara he would call her about the return of Batman. That is to say, the return of the guy that really belonged in the suit of the Dark Knight and not the young poser who'd rather be snapping off smart-ass comments and rocking the Nightwing costume.

A towel is draped loosely around his hips, hair dripping and ice pack against his left knee as he settles onto the bed in his old room at Wayne Manor and uses his thumb to dial Barbara's home number. He hurts all over...but he's smiling.
[identity profile] themightyoracle.livejournal.com
 It feels like months since she first started trying to reach her father, but Babs knows it's only been hours.

Nevertheless, she's worried, because she knows her dad. She's been off-grid nearly five days now, and since she first moved in with him when she was thirteen, Barbara has never gone more than a night without speaking to him. 

Well - there was one glaring exception. 

Which only reinforced her sense that something wasn't right, but with all the recent chaos in Gotham, it was possible there was still some sort of reasonable explanation for why Commissioner Gordon wasn't answering his cell phone for his only daughter, nor returning the messages she'd left for him at work or home. 

Babs wanted to go to the station. It wasn't far. Neither was her father's house far removed from her Clock Tower. But there was still a lot of work to be done, and while her leg injury wasn't any further hinderance for her, and she could still get around by herself, Babs had a feeling that certain people might get snippy if she took off on her own again so soon.

There were one or two things she could try before venturing out into Gotham. Calling Dick's cell, she left a voicemail,

<i>"Hey, Dick. Not to be an alarmist, but I haven't been able to get ahold of my father and I was wondering if maybe you had an idea where he might be. Also, if you've got a job for me to help get things running more smoothly, I'm ready to go. Call me when you can."</i>
[identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_bird_of_flame_/
Flamebird sits at the table, waiting for everyone else to show up. Drumming her fingers on the top of the table, she's not entirely sure why /she's/ at this meeting. Sure, she helps when Vic is caught up in one of this projects and makes sure that things are running smoothly when he's away. And she does monitor duty on the West Coast and the East Coast as needed but she's not a leader or anything.

It isn't like she's going to be giving either of these teams orders in the field any time soon, or possibly ever as far as she's concerned.

Still, she's here because while she reminded Vic, she's not entirely certain how deep into what he's doing Vic is right now and someone needs to show up.
[identity profile] jla-villains.livejournal.com
Mr. Freeze had been brooding in Bludhaven along with a number of the others who had escaped from the carnage in Gotham. Freeze himself had placed the blame for the situation quite plainly on the shoulders of the Batman; where was he when Freeze was ready to strike against Blackfire? Telling him to hold his fire, that's where. And then Freeze was ambushed, and it all fell apart.

Freeze had been coldly staring at the Bat, not even rising to the provocations of Copperhead or the other costumed criminals in attendance. So much for Gotham's saviour. He was a fraud; Freeze had known it ever since poor dear sweet beautiful Nora had passed away due to Batman's machinations. It was all he could do not to ring the bastard's neck, but alas, with his coolant system impaired he could barely move.

By the time Blue Beetle had fixed him up the Bat had gone, no doubt to deliberate with other vigilantes. Freeze had hunted him awhile, but found no trace of the elusive 'hero'. And then Nightwing showed up in Batman's stead, as the voluntary leader of a strike team going back into Gotham through a tunnel that ran beneath the river. The Batman had apparently gone on ahead and ensured the coast was clear. Freeze volunteered for Nightwing's group, determined that once he caught up to the Caped Crusader he'd be made to answer for his failings.

So emerging into Gotham, out of a parking lot beneath... Freeze looks up and sees the unlit symbol of Wayne Enterprises and grimaces. That giant symbol had been a constantly lit beacon for some time. He looks at his companions. The Black Spider, Copperhead, Wonder Girl, Flamebird and of course, Nightwing. 

"So, Nightwing." Freeze rests against a wall, breathing deeply. He still isn't fully recovered from his earlier injuries. "You know Bludhaven, but can you claim to know Gotham as well as me? Where would you propose we strike, hm? And who against? The enemy are all around. Every civilian is a potential murderer or pair of eyes for Blackfire. Do we have a target?"
[identity profile] beastlyboy.livejournal.com

"Hey, there have been some strange deaths at this local high school!"

"We should investigate gang!"

"Golly, could the school psychiatrist be doing something to the kids?"

"Oh no, Raven doesn't know that the school shrink is Spellbinder! And she's at a therapy session!"


"Excuse me!" Beast Boy shouts, hopping over a shocked student, flipping between a kangaroo, a cheetah, and his human form to blur through the school as fast as he can. He slams against the school psychologist's office door, goes, "OW! Ooooowwwwwwww." Beast Boy hisses, rubbing his shoulder and wincing. "Stupid fancy new doors."

Beast Boy tugs on the handle a little, pushes, and finally realizes its one of those doors you pull. One opening later, he bursts in on the sinister session! "Hold it right there!" Beast Boy exclaims, pointing a finger at, well, whoever's right in front of him. This is about when Garfield notices a familiar red glow. "Oh. Huh." Beast Boy pales a little, "...tthhiiisss isn't gonna end well..."
[identity profile] aflyinggrayson.livejournal.com
Dressed down because he's paying a visit to the police station - the police garage, of all places - Dick Grayson, with two dozen pizzas and a six-pack of Mexican-made cola (sugar, no corn syrup), turns up in Wally West's hometown looking distracted and, despite being dressed casually, a little out of place.


On patrol

Mar. 10th, 2010 01:11 pm
[identity profile] spoilersteph.livejournal.com
It was a slow night in Gotham City, as Spoiler fired another line from her grappling gun and swung through the air onto another rooftop.

She hadn't been out much since she saw Batman...die-that was still hard for her to grasp, even though she watched it happen right in front of her. It was like she lacked the...motivation to go out on patrol.

That, sneaking out to do the usual rounds had been harder seeing as her mother had been keeping a sharper eye on her since Steph had revealed to her that she'd come back from the dead.

Tonight though, she just had to get out of the house. Clear her head. Knock out a couple of muggers and just find an escape from everything that had happened in the past few months.

Landing on the rooftop, Spoiler crouched down and took out a pair of night-vision goggles and scanned the area, keeping her eyes peeled for any unusual activity.
[identity profile] themightyoracle.livejournal.com
 It had been too long since their last one; a lot had happened between then and now to prevent it, but it was time, at last, for the Birds of Prey to assemble once more.

Many times, it was just Babs and Dinah in attendance for what they'd taken to calling their 'BoP parties'. Occasionally, some of the other girls, and/or honorary male members joined in, but all that really was needed were two or more Birds, a bottle of tequila for margaritas, ice cream, and the optional chick flick. So far this evening, the two founding members of the Birds of Prey were sharing the bottle alone, but the night was still young.

So far, it wasn't a very festive atmosphere. Barbara wasn't much of a drinker, but she had a shot glass of tequila in her hand, having skipped the margarita part entirely. She wasn't quite as thin has she had been recently, but her cheeks were still a bit more hollow than they should be. The apparent death of her mentor was taking less of a toll than her stubborn refusal to accept it as fact.

Babs hadn't spoken about it to anyone but Dick, and a few messages exchanged with Arthur. She wasn't sure what Dinah would have to say about it, but she <i>was</i> certain Di would make her talk.

[identity profile] beware-my-power.livejournal.com
The Justice League's lunar headquarters had taken a real beating during the Sinestro invasion of Earth, and some of the repair work required had been extensive. Fortunately, Green Lantern rings make ideal tools - and a handy way to inspect the results after it's done.

Hal stands in one of the lounges in the Watchtower, his ring passively scanning the enormous reinforced windows for any signs of defects that could lead to them cracking, resulting in almost instantaneous explosive decompression. The ring could do most of the work on auto-pilot, leaving Hal to consider Sinestro's last words to him, and the Guardians' new law.
[identity profile] spirit-of-truth.livejournal.com
The searches keep running, the inquiries and questions coming up with the same answer every single time.

No data available within requested parameters

Diana straightens, sighing in frustration. "Athena guide me to something... anything that might provide a scrap of hope."
[identity profile] aflyinggrayson.livejournal.com
Gotham could not yet know its guardian has disappeared. The Bat family has made certain of it. All of the usual mechanisms that go into place when Bruce is injured are in place now: holograms of the Batman haunt people, Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl, Huntress...they are on the streets, doing what they do best. Just not as good as their mentor.

Coffee, energy drinks, sodas, sugary foods...anything Dick can consume to keep himself going he's consumed. Anything legal, that is. He's learned well how to stay awake, stay focused, stay lethal. He learned from the best.

With others on patrol presently, Dick ditches his costume and finds his way back to the Watchtower. In his backpack is the Nightwing gear and what remains of Batman's cape and cowl. He gives his chin, unshaven for days, a rueful rub and then knocks on Barbara's door.
[identity profile] aflyinggrayson.livejournal.com
Three days, give or take, have passed since the news broke, since Clark and Diana visited to drop a bombshell on the Wayne household. In that time, Alfred has taken care of covering Bruce's trail: the billionaire playboy has hurt himself skiing in Switzerland and is reputedly resting comfortably in a private villa somewhere in the Alps. Dick, however, has sequestered himself in the Batcave looking for signs of Batman. Any sign. Anything.


Weary, he finally quits the work (after punching a $1000 monitor across the room) and drags himself upstairs to shower and shave. Only after he is presentable does he learn, from a grief-worn Alfred, that Selena is still at Wayne Manor. Cursing himself for his single-mindedness (Bruce would be proud, ignoring someone's grief to work.), Dick goes to the master bedroom and knocks.
[identity profile] metromarvel.livejournal.com
Its only been a few hours; he wanted to make sure Lois was home, first. The Man of Steel rockets through the sky, face inscrutable as he tries to figure out an approach for this. Who all's going to be there? Will he have to tell them one at a time? Will they blame him? Should they?

"Stop it." Clark tells himself, ashamed of the selfish fear. He's Superman, for God's sakes. It doesn't make the approach to Wayne manor(the back way, naturally.) any easier, however, on this miserable winter's day. Superman can't help but remember the first time he'd heard Batman rail against Gotham's infamous snowfall, about how a little slush on his cape almost killed him, about how...wait.

Eyes narrowing, Superman eases left, picking up speed as he peers through sin-stained warehouse after sin-stained warehouse. Temperature fluctuation...there. Lead plating, but that doesn't mean much these days, but only one Gotham criminal is going to be working with that kind of ferrokinetic discharge tonight of all nights.

Crashing through the roof, Superman's hunch is confirmed! The armored outline of Mister Freeze stands, slowly working over some strange device while masked and hooded goons carry armloads of cheap industrial diamonds. Well, they were, right up until the maniac in blue pajamas kicked the roof in. "I hope you're giving them overtime for working this close to the holiday, Freeze."

The man...or what once was a man...makes motions that would be shock and horror on being capable of expressing its emotions to any real extent. On Freeze, they're memories, patterns etched into his walking corpse body. "You...!"

There's a crack of wind, then, as Superman gets all up in Freeze's grill, smashing the ice cannon the criminal habitually carries like it were an old beer can. "This is a bad time." Superman says, not raising his voice but somehow expressing the sort of fury that makes six or seven armed men take pause. "So how about you just...stop. Huh?"


One concussion later, the Man of Steel is back in the air. Okay, so Mister Freeze's annual mad scheme to create an eternal winter had been foiled, there...there was no real excuse to keep putting this off. Man up, Clark snaps at himself, and the red and blue blur shimmers in the Gotham dusk.

There is a knock, at the back door of stately Wayne manor. "...Alfred...?"
[identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_bird_of_flame_/
Bette Kane has never been one to attach a lot of sentiment to the holiday season. While she likes presents and likes friends an family, she's had a lot of the first and not so much of the later until the past few years. Ever since she's become a Titan, this sort of stuff has started to mean more.

And this year, specifically, she's trying to shake herself out of a funk. Ever since the end of the whole situation with Jesse and Wally, she's been mopey, beyond mopey. That just is not going to stand - or at least she's going to do her best to get rid of that little black rain cloud that's settled over her head.

At the Titans West tower, there is a trail of gingerbread cookies leading to the teleporter. One of them is standing over the controls, watching them. No one needs to change them at all, they just need to get on the platform and follow the trails of the gingerbread to...

..... the Titans East base.

Someone's been busy with the decorating and the cooking and... well... the catering but she did cook some. A little bit.

This is the party. Presents can't be too far behind.
[identity profile] femme-du-chat.livejournal.com
Everything has been a little off today, something strange with the world. The whole thing just seems a bit strange and, well, there is one person who knows everything about everything. Or at least she usually does.

Selina ends up on Oracle's doorstep, though she's nominally visiting the other woman, Barbara Gordon. The two of them have had ups and downs - better and worse times. Right now, though, they're in a good patch of relationship.

It'll be interesting to see if that lasts through this encounter.
[identity profile] man-of-stee-ll.livejournal.com
In a different place, another time, things could have been better. Or they could have been much, much worse. But when you're given a chance to see your mistakes, and re-live them what can be done?

A panicked twosome were the subjects in question here. Their location could have been considered paradise to some. Again, how often are you stuck on a deserted island with a beautiful woman, and no distractions for miles?

"...and every ounce of your blood for a quarter tank of gasoline!"

But then again, perhaps not?
[identity profile] able-cain.livejournal.com
Tonight, Cassandra Cain faces her toughest challenge to date.

She is not at Dragon's dojo, though she finds herself training and sparring all the same.

She is not in the Batcave, practicing there.

Nor is she at the Clocktower, or with her moth--Lady Shiva. Tonight, she is not even on the streets. Not truly.

Gotham's vast warehouses have been home to many a villain in the many years since they rose to power in the city, and it is weird for her to seek solace in such a place. Yet here she is, surrounded by granite and brick. In a place even deserted of furnishings, not even a stray wooden pallet left over.

She has found the exact center of the room easily, for its two hundred square feet of space. She sits there, in her lotus pose, and continues her mental sparring. For with one light powered on above her--using a wiring trick taught to her by Tim some time ago--she opens her book to where she left off.

Out loud to herself, to the granite and the bricks, to the shadows, and to the lingering remnants in the room, she reads.

"When Dor--othy awoke the sun was shining thruff--through--the trees and Toto had long been out chasing birds and squirrels. She sat up and looked around her. There was the Scarecrow, still standing pat-i-ent-ly --pashently--patiently--in his corner, waiting for her."

Fewer pauses this time. And with her mental clock ticking, she makes note that those three sentences took her just over one minute. Determination renewed, she continues.

She will finish this chapter tonight.


Aug. 27th, 2009 02:39 pm
[identity profile] fast-thrower.livejournal.com
Owen checked and double-checked the address. The place looked right, but he didn't want to risk making any mistakes on this. He hit the intercom on the front gate.

"Hi... I'm Owen Mercer. I stopped a bank robbery with some of you guys, and... you're supposed to open for new members, right?"

Smooth. Very smooth.
[identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_bird_of_flame_/
Bette Kane is notoriously quiet about her birthday. She makes a very loud, very big deal about herself pretty much every other day of the year, so usually on her birthday, or as close to it as she can get, she spends the day doing good works. Instead of promoting herself, she goes quiet and tries to do good for the rest of the world. To some extent Flamebird is the greatest extent of her being loud and flashy, so the costume also gets a rest, even if very few people know it is her. She donates her time to a soup kitchen or a week to building Houses for Humanity.

That's what she did this year - house building for a few days. She's tired, a long day of working with power tools and wood and drywall. After a day like that, she's come back to the Tower to sleep. She isn't patrolling tonight, nor is she on monitor duty. Right now, all she is thinking is that she needs a /long/ bath with all of the fizzy girly products she can get her hands on to smell as bubblegum and floral as possible.

An excellent end to a good day.


jla_watchtower: (Default)
JLA Watchtower (Archive)

November 2016

6 789101112


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 24th, 2017 07:10 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios