JLA Watchtower (Archive)

Arisia has started to perk up a bit over the last day or so. Less sleeping, a little more eating and a lot more helping out. It is amazing that she eats as much as she does with such a little frame as she has.

One of these days, she'll figure this stuff out. How to bounce back from a boyfriend who almost killed you but didn't really because he wasn't in control. So messed up. There is a sofy murmuring in a tonal language as she settles herself into a seat.

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Tara, on the other hand, sleeps about 4-5 hours a week and takes out her frustrations on the kitchen while she thinks - after the shower, of course. Any minor meta who spits venom as a weapon that you get into it with has a "gross," factor.

At the moment though, the whole wheat cinnamon rolls are cooking, the copper coffee pot is percolating, and so are her leads. Ari gets something different though...

"Here. Go for these." She puts a pan of cut cookie bars in front of the alien. "Gorp bars (http://www.myccr.com/SectionTechnique/MealsAndMenus/Recipes/viewrecipe.php?recipe_id=10)."

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Arisia's eyes open a little wider, "Really?"

Picking one up, she looks at it for a few moments before taking a big bite of one. Her eyes close in a pleased expression.

"You'll have to give the recipie to Zinda or she'll get jealous."

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"Krafties finest back of the box creation. Based on what Travis told me about how you heal, high fat, high carb, low burn sounded like a plan. My brother calls these 'rocket fuel bars.'"

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"This tastes just about right." Arisia takes another few bites. "I'm also, later, going to need some meat to help with the muscle rebuilding but that is a bit down the road."

"Thank you."

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"Good luck in this house, but there's a burger joint about a two miles off that's pretty good. I'm also a fan of the oyster joint a mile and a half down the road, and I generally not a seafood person."

"And your welcome. What hit you, if you don't mind me asking?"

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"My boyfriend." Arisia pokes at the bar for a moment before furthering, "He wasn't in control of himself. Mind control is a danger of the job and all...."

The elfin looking woman shrugs a little. She still doesn't know what to think about it.

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There's that automatic, 'kill the sonabitch,' that comes from being a ER doctor in training working with a lot of domestic violence cases. Then she remembers it's Hal Jordan last she checked and he was one of the good guys - Ollie's best friend. Then, she remembers reading the "Paralax," file.

"Which idiot was courting domestic violence cases this round?"

Because the whole idea of taking on Travis makes her skin crawl.

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zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com - Date: 2007-03-06 12:07 am (UTC) - Expand

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portsmouth-crew.livejournal.com

The girl in the doorway, unbeknownst to her, has an even taller black man looming behind her, who is quite possibly the size of a Sherman tank.

Saying nothing.

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"I'm not... I can fly, Zinda. I've been flying with a ring since... forever, really." Arisia gives a small smile to the pair in the doorway.

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From around the massive man comes Dr. Cross.

"Yet you're to be grounded for now, Arisia. I've not cleared you for takeoff just yet," he says, affably enough.

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It is...?

Could it be?

Oh, yes. There is a pout there.

Maybe even a tear.

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He's good at detecting such things.

"It won't be long now, though. Your physiology is quite unique, and your regenerative capabilities should get you airborne in a matter of days."

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Better than nothing, she supposes. Arisia wriggles her nose and goes back to waiting to find out what the heck this meeting is about.

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Oh, all of this just gets better and better. Bad enough to have the Arrow family supervillians of pimps and pushers involved.

"Now Wonder Woman in a jet? Could have sworn the current one flies on her own. Maybe someone's is seeing or thinks they see something from the golden age." she has a sinking feeling. "And if the operatives we're looking for are impersonating the good guys to get their bad work done, we all are in for a long, long day."

She pages to her notes, rips them out of the notepad and hands them to Camilla. Not like she needs them, but should something happen to her, it's nice for dispatch to have her evening logs.

"Here's what I got:

"Della Fitzroy - good mid-Western girl; no legal or any other trouble until her boyfriend contracted the virus and passed it along. She's on the run here in Portsmouth for the clinics and for the fact her very large, very fundamentalist family doesn't have people here. There was a thought out there her boyfriend might be trying to find her but -" Green Shield shrugs. "She went missing about three weeks ago. People just assumed she'd died or been found by someone.

"Next up 'Flatnose.' Best anyone knows is that is first name is 'Rich.' Confirmed gone as of two weeks ago, but might have been longer. Flatnose had a rep for being thrown out of anywhere and anywhere - shelters, bars, soup kitchens, even health centers. St. Chris's was the only place that would still take him -" She does not note that it's because she signs up to deal with the guy when she can because his punches and other attempts at injuring her are decidedly feeble. "No word on the street except the fact people feel safer with him not around.

"Blaine Montrose - likely not a real name, since I'm a fan of that character actor and he looks nothing like the guy." Tara runs a hand through her hair. She'd rather deal with Flatnose most of the time. "He was a bugchaser who turned up positive 5 years ago, but likely had it longer than that. He has been - " It's almost a sneer. God, it's hard talking about Blaine's brilliant walking suicide when she goes back to Star and sees her best friend fight for her life night after night. "This last 18 months things went from 'treatable and functional,' down to 'unemployable and almost perpetually ill.' His T-Cell count is the lowest in the troop and he's been seeking treatment the least amount of time. Lately, he's been taking things more seriously, but it comes and goes. He's been gone almost a week and the cops have a pool on if it was suicide or something like it." She rolls her eyes. "I know this guy. He's a real showman. Likes to sing showtunes in the lobby...Dresses as the Grim Reaper for Pride Week. Goes to city hall meetings and utilizes the First Amendment. He missed last week's, which is how they figured he's missing. I think if he committed suicide he'd wouldn't make it a small quiet thing because I'm not sure he could make anything in his life quiet or small."

She has been giving this report standing. These last two? She needs to sit down. "Lastly, Kim-Ly and Anh Dung. No sirnames given, ever. Mother and son. Kim-Ly seems educated, especially about history, but she declined to say how she picked up HIV. Anh Dung is 7 and appears to have been born with HIV. They both spoke English. Anh is better at it. Kim-Ly helped us with a a Quebec guy in hospice before he died last year by translating things into French. Sadly, there isn't a lot of call for translation services, so trying to find her a job has always been rough." Maybe if we could have... she shuts that thought down and continues. "Word out there is that Kim-Ly got a job of some sort, though before she disappeared. She was always welcome at the local shelters, even those that don't normally accept children, because Anh Dung is so well-behaved and quiet. Last sighting: A couple people remember seeing her talking to a man in a suit, then getting into a white work van - which fits with the white theme we seem to have going. The license plate may've had a Y or a T in it, with either a 3
or an 8."

The buzzer rings and she takes the cinnamon rolls out of the oven and puts them on the table, not all that interested in eating.

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Arisia listens to that whole thing, frowning a bit. There is something on the edges of her thoughts but it isn't collecting into anything. Almost absently, she uses her ring to pull out a cinamon roll for herself, passing one to Zinda and anyone else who wants one too.

She frowns a little more as she thinks.

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Pieter's head bows a bit. Such a sad business, this.

"HIV patients of St. Christopher's, being taken by operatives with a whitened theme."

A hand to his chin. "I tell you, this Great White Shark business troubles me. It reminds me of the Praeda Industries problem. I should hope those sick bastards have not found their way to freedom again."

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portsmouth-crew.livejournal.com

"I thought of that, doc," volunteers Camilla. "They're still locked up. Doesn't mean they haven't subcontracted somehow, I know." Powerful men in prison may still be powerful men.

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"Thank you, Camilla."

His fingers still rub his chin.

"Manhunter, can I ask you what brought you to Portsmouth?"

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the-manhunter.livejournal.com

Kate nods her head. "I'm trying to track down one of the lead witnesses for a case from LA. His name's Clayton Kress." Manhunter pauses, looking around her at everyone else in the room. She has to be careful, and she can't let her identity slip. "His boss - a sociopath named Lady Malady (don't ask) infected him and gave him AIDS, pretty much full-blown. I followed my leads to him over here...and that's where everything ended."

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