JLA Watchtower (Archive)

"Happy Harbor. I think Vibe's trying to get the World Cup or something and the team's cable plan isn't up to snuff. Everybody needs to call the cable guy, right? Ray Henson. Good to meet you." He gives him a friendly nod back, before trying to decipher the different colored buttons on his hand-held.

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"Central Brewery. Coldest beer in the industry." Another workman nods, chiming in. "I guess we caught 'em on a day off."

The second man's face appears to ripple slightly, before he gives a sharp poke at it. "Damn allergies."

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The third workman flinches as his colleague's face ripples. "Cuba. Just goes to show we ain't all bad, eh? Heh heh heh." His forced jocularity comes to an abrupt halt when he notices his workmate's face ripple again.

"Sorry, ese. I ain't takin' no risks with this one." Moon-jumping over to Conrad, Brutale draws a dagger from his spacesuit and cuts the oxygen lines running from the back of the workman's. With a kick, he launches the guy into outer space.

"Mis disculpas, asshole." Guillermo sends the signal back down to the Legion of Doom Headquarters that entry time is drawing near.

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Kip Blackwell, the satellite's resident IT guru and Oracle's on-site aide, is manning the command center alone, for all intents and purposes, thanks to the crisis in Chicago. With his Braille system set up to one side and most of the other systems voice-activated and capable of spewing all sorts of information via audio, he is able to monitor the activities planet-side without much effort. It's a job he's done in the past and no doubt will have to do again.

The fact that his beloved jazz is not playing would be a strong indication of the seriousness of the issues the Justice League faces. But that doesn't prevent him from whistling a bit of Duke Ellington while he waits. At his side in another chair sits a large orange tabby, as if helping monitor the crisis.

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jla-miscreants.livejournal.com

"Ladies and gentlemen, the witching hour is at hand. It is time to breach the Watchtower." Back at the Legion of Doom HQ in the bayou of Louisiana, the Clock King puts his fob watch in his pocket, and sends Brutale, Captain Cold and Rainbow Raider the signal to activate their half of the teleportation relay.

The signal gets through, as the Clock King, Queen Bee, Clayface, Fadeaway Man, the Eel, Fiddler, Sonar and others find themselves beamed to the breach that the three moon-based villains have created silently. The Clock King clicks one of his stop-watches, and time halts briefly, as with a struggle he inflates the portable airlock around them so that they don't need to worry about lack of oxygen as they enter through the small hole.

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jla-miscreants.livejournal.com

The warped monstrosity known as the Eel leads the group through the breach and into one of the many laboratories on the Watchtower. "We... have to move... fast. Clock King's time... manipulation and Fadeaway's... sensor blanking tech... will only hide us for so... long. As will Clay... face's disguises. Split... up. Take... Damage... Kill what you can!"

With that, the Eel heads off towards one of the other laboratories. Maybe he will be able to find a chemical that can stabilise his powers.

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"Bueno. I'll be heading for the cells, chicas. I'm gonna be bringing some spice to this little party of ours..." Brutale runs off down a corridor, practically springing from wall-to-wall. The other villains wouldn't have seen how agile the Hasaraguan can be, but the way he moves and handles his knives is deadly and really quite frightening.

"Ah, me gusta." With a grin, Brutale walks into the sealed prison section, where criminals too dangerous to be sent back down to Earth and too Earth-related to be sent to Oa are kept. He can only see some of the figures in their transparent cells, but begins to work on the control panel with the grace of an accomplished hacker.

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jla-alcatraz.livejournal.com

Anton displaces himself in space and time so as to avoid any unnecessarily hazardous security systems, merely observing the corridors, rooms and such, until he finds what he's looking for.

The trophy room.

Villains who had been to the Watchtower before had told the Fadeaway Man about some of the rare artefacts on display, in their secure casings. Some of them had even had their weapons removed, and placed there. Wriggling his fingers like Homer Simpson eyeing up a particularly appealing doughnut, Anton caresses the Cosmic Treadmill, before another choice item catches his eye.

Is that a yellow power ring?

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Loping through the magnificent spectacle that is the JLA Watchtower, pausing every now and then to look at the stars, Clayface, in the form of Black Lightning, finds himself on the control deck, hearing the sounds of the battle in Chicago.

And there's a man sat there.

"Hey there." Clayface / Black Lightning holds up a hand in greeting to Kip.

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Heat Wave isn't bothering with the clay disguise, the wriggling mass on his face irritating him to no end. It had been surprisingly cold on his skin, and cold bothers him.

So in his normal costume, he walks on through the Watchtower, occasionally melting a camera or sensor with one of his guns, and ends up in a room he'd rather not be in. It's refrigerated, and there's nothing in it but a large cylinder containing what appears to be a very muscular man, frozen solid. In front of the cylinder is a plaque that reads 'Triumph'.

"This place needs some heating." Mick raises both of his guns, and fires jets of burning fuel into the room. Due to the intensity of the heat, the temperature starts rising dramatically. Heat Wave does nothing but watch as the flames lick across the floor, up the walls, and up to the containment cylinder.

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Kip's head lifts, and he answers softly, "Sup?" while his hands move across his keyboard.

Perimeter alarms everywhere in the Watchtower, clearly displayed for Kip alone: the information is on the Braille monitor.

But at his side, the big orange tabby sits up and growls warningly at the newly arrived "hero". Kip pauses in his typing to put a hand on Cake's head. "Sorry, man," he tells pseudo-Black Lightning, "I don't think he likes black men."

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mrpierce2u.livejournal.com

"Heh." Clayface Lightning is slightly perturbed by the presence of somebody in the Watchtower. He was led to believe that the place would be completely empty, given the size of the attack back in Chicago.

Probably best not to say too much, as this guy, whoever the hell he is, may know the real Black Lightning's voice very well. Probably just best to snap his spine and move on.

Clayface moves up to Kip, and reaches to grab the man's neck.

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Shielding his eyes, Weather Wizard floats up behind Heat Wave. "What've you found, Mick?"

Mardon waits for an answer, but these isn't one forthcoming. He tuts, and looks over his colleague's shoulder at the burning room and the cracking cylinder. "Well I don't think you're going to need any help from me, so I'll leave you to it."

Weather Wizard turns around, and decides to head elsewhere on the moon station.

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"Oh wow." Killer Wasp buzzes into the trophy room, and grins as he surveys Fadeaway Man looking hungrily at the power ring in its emerald casing.

"Hell, you can have the power ring Anton. Have a look at these!" Wasp touches down on the floor, and puts his hands into 'Mongul's Gauntlets of Domination', one of the weapons the alien warlord had used to take on the Green Lantern during his destruction of Coast City.

Wasp slips the gauntlets on, but his arms suddenly drop as the weight on his fists makes him fall to the floor with an incredibly loud clang. "Ah damn. A bit too heavy for me, eh Anton? Still, we don't have to let the Justice League keep them." Wasp takes his hands out of the metal gloves, and turns around, spraying them with a potent acid from his stinger.

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See, here is where being taken under Nightwing's wing, as it were, works out well, because one of the first things Dick insisted on doing when Kip joined the Watchtower brigade was honing his self-defense skills, blind or not.

After urging Cake off the chair and to a safe spot, Kip's hand - and his grip is strong - intercepts Clayface's arm. "You know," he states pleasantly, "not all of us blind folk are helpless."

He turns, lifting the other hand from the keyboard and cocking his wrist. Under it? A device that dispenses some really, really obnoxious knockout gas. Clayface might even recognize the smell: it was provided by Dick's mentor.

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"Hurry," Queen Bee urges, watching the cells eagerly. "I want this place destroyed from the inside out."

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"Of course, my Queen." Brutale and the Queen Bee having already made an arrangement between them, the Guillermo slips her a smile from behind his mask, and is able to hack the control panel to the cells.

That technology he bought from Dr. Morrow was worth every penny. Stepping into the cell area, taking his Queen by the hand, he leads her past their subjects.

Dr. Arthur Light - transported from the Brownstone to the Watchtower whilst waiting for free space in Alcatraz.

Gorilla Grodd - captured during a Suicide Squad mission in San Francisco.

Solomon Grundy - caught by a Green Lantern during one of his regular raids on Gotham City.

Savitar - caught by the Flash and held temporarily while Iron Heights has another anti-speedster containment cell built.

Dr. Phosphorus - caught by Starfire after trying to escape Earth's atmosphere, whilst raving that God's messenger had judged him and found him unworthy.

Brutale finishes looking at the plaques on the fronts of the cells, and looks to Queen Bee. "There are more putas through there," he gestures with his thumb as an even further heightened security section, "but that'll take mucho time to get through." He pauses. "Who do you want released, my Queen? Some? All? Your wish is my command."

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mrpierce2u.livejournal.com

Clayface's arm turns to mush under Kip's grip, and he grins. "I didn't figure you for a blind guy. Take that as a compliment." With his other arm he's about to strike Kip, and then the gas is released.

Clayface Lightning gags at the odour, and his figure starts to contort and warp. "Kill... you!" Clayface vomits something, presumably clay, and then reverts to his Preston Payne form as he collapses to the ground unconscious.

Batman has some nasty devices.

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Hands trembling a bit from adrenaline afterward, Kip activates his JLA comm, opening channels to the JSA, Titans and Bat-Family as well. "Watchtower to anyone near the base. I got some really bad company up here. I'm activating the secondary defense systems in sixty seconds. I'm powering up the primary too, just in case."

Meaning:

In sixty seconds, the place is going to be filled with gas not unlike what Kip just gave to Clayface. If the Watchtower's guardian doesn't get somewhere safe and deactivate the primary defense system...

Well, the JLA might need a new home.

He drags Clayface into the hall, and once back inside the control room, he triggers the steel doors to seal him inside with Cake. Every other corner of the Watchtower will get some of that gas, and pretty soon, too.

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"Not Grodd," says Queen Bee, eying the cells between brilliant smiles at Brutale. How she does love fawning subjects. "I loathe the presumptuous bastard. Light...interesting... Oh, Phosphorus is here. He could be terribly fun, don't you think?"

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jla-miscreants.livejournal.com

"Let me out, your highness, and I'll sacrifice one hundred people in your name!" Savitar hangs upside down in his cell, wired to various surfaces and machines, preventing him from obtaining any motion.

"In fact, I'll sacrifice a full thousand! You can have their bodies, and I will have their life force so that my speed will continue to increase!" The masked lunatic grins as much as he's able.

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"Do not listen to that mad fool. Listen to Grodd. Release me and I shall turn my destructive power on our mutual enemies!!" Grodd tries his damnedest to force his mental powers on Queen Bee and Brutale, but the Martian Manhunter's psychic shield technology prevents any such attempt from succeeding.

"The world will fear Grodd again! THEY WILL ALL FEAR GRODD!!! AAA-AAA-AAAA!!!" The massive gorilla beats his chest and salivates.

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A shadow works its way into the sealed cell, one that's adapted to the hazardous breathing conditions by simply not doing it.

It moves its way into a small coil, waiting on the proper moment.

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