[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] 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?”
[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 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
The Chimp has finished the investigation he did for his own benefit. And now he needs to share the results. He's asked the Outsiders to come for a meeting.

He looks at the assembled heroes. "We can get started," he states. "Tara's already seen this." He slides a few photos and photocopies of records across the table for others to look at.

"When I was in rehab, there was something that I kept going back to. It didn't make much sense. Travis was usually pretty calm and on top of it, but then, in the matter of a few seconds, he lashed out at me, dumped his girlfriend, and quit the team. It doesn't add up to what we've seen of him.

"So I took a case from myself. I wanted to find out what caused this abrupt reaction. Started looking into his background, because... it looked like I'd hit a button." He gestures to the photos and records. "I was right. I just didn't realize how big of one."
[identity profile] kingofbrain.livejournal.com

He's not entirely sure why he keeps bringing her back to New York City.  He's equally unsure why he loves the city so much.

But the stagehand's strike ended three days ago, and the lights on Broadway...especially coupled with the snow currently falling...is a definition of Christmas to him.

As the just-turned-night air gets slightly more brisk, they find themselves at Rockefeller Center - in front of the gi-normous tree they have up every year.

The sight to him is breathtaking...but he can almost hear her reaction to it already... 

[identity profile] onthecase.livejournal.com
Detective Chimp knucklewalks by himself through the streets of New York, ready to head back to Outsiders' HQ, deep in thought.

Now he understands why Travis did what he did. He understands why Travis tried to hurt him when he nearly destroyed the Outsiders through drunken stupidity. He understands why he ran away from Tara and the team.

And now it's time to repair the damage that he did. It's the least he can do.

Provided it's not too late.
[identity profile] ibn-al-xuff.livejournal.com
His arm hurts, but feels a bit better after having been set in a cast.

His cell phone hasn't stopped ringing. The lawyers are well trained and amply excited to earn their pay. Well, I suspect the quiet is about to end now.

He ponders his future...
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
In darkness, there's a squabbling of creatures. Manifested here is a dark wood, of familiar north-eastern seaboard terrain. This new manifestation is the interest that brings them, but the light of transport scares them away.

Dr. Fate and Tefe Holland will see things scatter away from their arrival point, back into black depths.

Through the unstable haze of the environment, a clear area is ahead. There's a shadowy outline of two structures, the farthest showing square blurs of light into the distance. In clearer focus, a house can be seen, but its outside structure wavers unsteadily. The house is intermittently whole and in pieces, the conjurer probably unaware of the manifestation's faulty nature.

Meeting

Sep. 10th, 2007 08:48 pm
[identity profile] tefe-holland.livejournal.com
Things had been quiet, of course that was usually what happened just before everything decided to get out of control in Tefe's experience. There had been time to grow the plants on the base the way she wanted them, some were just for looks, some were for traps, some were to talk to.

She still wondered what that strange Raven woman had wanted outside the theater that day, the other people showing up had scared her away before they could really talk. Maybe she should look her up soon.

Now Caleb wanted her to come to a meeting. Tefe wasn't exactly sure what it was for but she was able to guess it had something to do with Corrine. He hadn't been around too much to ask how his sister was doing because he'd been trying to find a solution to where Corrine had gone. Hopefully she could ask about Amelia at the same time.

She showed up where Caleb had asked her to be with her hands in her pockets and a slightly curious look.

"I'm here."
[identity profile] blackest-bird.livejournal.com
She waited until the crowd was leaving the theatre to approach that strange mind she sensed from the balcony, keeping herself to the shadows as in pairs or groups the patrons walked ignorantly past her.

She scared the Armani off of a middle-aged man when she perked having spotted the white haired...person. She paid him no mind as he grumbled about costumed freaks having no sense of propriety and continued on his way.

She strode up purposely to the female looking thing with the white hair, but not menacingly.

"You are not human."
[identity profile] kingofbrain.livejournal.com
He had no idea where they were going, so he dressed "casual nice".

Tefe' wouldn't tell him.

But he'd be with her, so it's good enough for him.

They agreed to meet on base then head out, so he sits, flipping through an "Entertainment Weekly", waiting for her arrival.

Aftermath

Jun. 22nd, 2007 10:04 am
[identity profile] sand-hawkins.livejournal.com
The meeting room had a side table with a buffet lunch and hotbar.   Given what was about to go down, Sand felt the least he could do was make sure it didn't go down on an empty stomach.

The past two days had, to be blunt, sucked like a Kirby Generation I.  The worst part was accompanying Tara to inform the Strong family that Crystal Strong was altered into a powerful, insane metahuman, while at the same time aged to adulthood.

That didn't go well.

The Dectective Chimp situation, as he understood it, was a bright spot in the darkness, and he hoped things could get settled quickly in that regard.

Mostly, however, although there was business to conduct - the team needed this time together, hopefully to remind everyone that we were, in fact, still a team.

Sand nibbled on a chicken wing while going over his notes.
[identity profile] onthecase.livejournal.com
Once they returned to base, he didn't waste much time. He stopped by his room, grabbed a few bottles of booze, tossed them in a bag, and hopped out the window. His plan is simple: find some hole to get wasted in, and drink himself into a stupor until the meeting passes. Sure, maybe it's a bit cowardly... but what's going to happen at the meeting? He'll be chewed out, he'll be dumped on, and he'll likely be fired. Better to just avoid it altogether.

Within 20 minutes, he's in the alley behind his old cockroach-ridden apartment, the one he had before he got the gig with the Outsiders. The cockroaches, of course, don't remember him -- they didn't remember him when he lived there. Besides, it's not like he's going inside. He hasn't payed rent on this place in months. But he knows the alley.

He pulls the whiskey from the bag, and removes the top. No glass... might as well swig directly from the bottle.

And he sits there, staring at the bottle, wondering why he can't seem to lift the bottle to his mouth.

He brings his other hand to the bottle to help lift it... and he somehow forgets how to raise his arms.

He puts the bottle down and lifts his hands, testing. Then he grabs hold of the bottle... and promptly forgets how to raise the bottle again.

He leans over the bottle, pressing his lips to the mouth... and he tries to stick his tongue down into the liquid. Perhaps if he can just taste one drop...

But he forgets how to extend his tongue.

He steps away from the bottle, and tests his body's memory. It works perfectly... he can stick his tongue out, he can mock lifting the bottle to his lips. But the moment he grabs the bottle once again, his muscle memory leaves him.

And that's when he realizes what Brainwave did to him.

He snarls angrily and makes numerous more attempts to put the liquor into his body. He tries pouring it over and sticking his lips into the falling beverage. He tries putting his body in place before pulling the alcohol over with a string. He tries asking a rat to pour it for him. He even tried to suck it up from puddles on the alley floor.

Each and every time... he forgets how to complete the last step.

Now he sits in the alley, some of the spilled but unconsumed whiskey in puddles around him, the bottle of alcohol before him, staring at it with a mixture of hatred and longing, surrounded by very confused vermin.
[identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
The runes are laid out. Everyone is assembled. It's nearing time.

Therese is curled up, barely lucid in a chair but unrestrained. Next to her, Amelia is propped against the wall, not quite standing well herself. They've done something to keep her in a five-foot range of the chair. She's not looking at any of them.

In a corner of the room, Louis has his pet, Crystal, in his lap, as seems to be the usual. He's feeding her almonds piece by piece, and she's giggling. The rest have assemblage of their own, merely waiting for the right thing to happen.

Phillip is near the center of the circle, discussing final mapping with Angela in low tones. He feels the tense and pull of something changing in his enviornment. He lifts his head, smiling. "We have company."
[identity profile] caleb-z.livejournal.com
A heavy, hazing feeling is the first thing Caleb registers when he wakes up. It doesn’t take long for him to remember how he came to be on the floor, though mustering the coherence to get back up doesn’t come quite as quickly.

The first thing his mind actively registers is that his magical sense is rather useless just now. The level of ambient magic is heavy and constant; enough to overshadow all other signatures in the area. The effect is perfect in it’s simplicity: He can’t be certain exactly what he would be drawing in, so he can’t siphon without the risk of harming his teammates.

Well, she doesn’t want us dead, or we wouldn’t still be here. She just wanted us out of the way… but why? … Even money says it’s Corrine. Dear God, I hope I’m not too late!

The sound of the amulet hitting the floor is what first draws his attention to its presence, the feeling of it in his hand having somehow failed to register.

The Al Koyet’s amulet. It was obviously left in his hand on purpose, but why? His senses are akin to useless at the moment, so he doesn’t know why Bird left it with him.
Is he meant to release something inside, or safeguard its prison? And even if he knew what her intentions were, should he abide by them?

If it were dangerous, she wouldn’t have effectively disabled my powers before giving it to me. But I can’t be certain she’s the one who gave it to me… He slides it into his pocket, picks up his gun, and heads into the halls.

First priority is to rally.
[identity profile] amelia-z.livejournal.com
Amelia Zukov used to believe in God.

Well, to be fair, she used to believe in a lot of things that she doesn't anymore, but God's approval rating reached the negatives a while ago. After that stupid meeting, it dive-bombed. If God was ever gonna show his face around this damned place (pun intended), then now would've been it. It didn't have to even be God Himself-- just, y'know, a sign. Maybe a talking sock, or strange, cryptic and life-affirming messages coming from the toaster. Something. Anything!

Nope. Nada. Damnit. She chuckles at that and swivels in her lab chair over to laptop C2. Her hands hover over the keyboard and don't do anything for a moment.

They called her a child prodigy. She skipped two grades and it was only two because they said anything more would stunt her "social development". Uh-huh. Right. She knows she would've made Prom Queen and Valedictorian. She would've graduated, gotten emancipated, gotten the hell away from her parents and probably gone to the same college as Caleb. They'd finish out school for whatever while life happened as it always does, and one day they'd oversee some sort of corporation or something together. Screwing their parents as royally as possible was probably somewhere in that plan. Most of all, though, together they'd establish the stability they never had. The world would be on their terms and no one would be able to kick either of them ever again.

There were apparently different plans in the books, though. Maybe there was a day way back when that Amelia Zukov would've heard the words "celestial prophecy" and been more than happy to step aside to let what must be, be. It could be said that the Amelia of that time vanished completely the day she woke up in Metropolis, starring at her brother and an as-yet-unknown Tara Strong. That wouldn't be true, though. That Amelia vanished when she realized what Caleb had made of his life in her absence.

Amelia sighs. Her hands move swift and determined across the keyboard. She's been making the attempt to be completely distracted by work, for hours. Much like this stupid integration software that keeps erroring on startup, there's a whole lot of failure, and success that's random and brief.
[identity profile] green-shield.livejournal.com
The sun might do Amelia some good, which is why they are there. Second reason they are there is to hopefully find some sort of alchemical whatzit to slow down, cure, or at least keep what's in Amelia's system from mutating into airborne viruses or whatever. Tara has been reading up, but between her experiments for Mia, her real medical degree, and adventuring on two coasts, it hasn't been as in depth of study as she'd like. Even with photographic memory and needing less than an hour to sleep per day, there's still only 24 hours in a day.

So, time for the expert opinion - Tefe - and Zan, who's nature based society might have some insights to offer those here on planet Earth.

"So, how is everyone this morning?"

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