(no subject)

[demonshead.livejournal.com]

* The cave is colossal. The limestone and millennia of dripping water have formed stunning formations that take even his breath away. The delicate shapes, shifts of color and patterns in the stalagmites, stalactites and mineral columns are a mosaic of natural beauty. A pale silvered luminescence, coming from the pools that the calcified shapes tower over, softly illuminates the chamber. For ages, this place has existed without a single human presence, until now.

Gently stepping from one foothold to the next, he stoops down and collects more of the luminescent fish into a waiting bucket. Long has he sought out these creatures. He had thought them extinguished in the early nineteenth century. He believed them to be another species that he could not save. Ironically he owed this second chance to the Detective.

The files that he perused in the Detective’s computer banks were chiefly regarding the monstrous Brother I horror, however he did also come across a geological survey in Alaska. It revealed the existence of this subterranean cavern system. Corporate and government interests had prevailed and oil drilling had begun in the area. Admirably the Detective’s own corporate pawns refused to be involved with the project, but the drilling would still happen. Soon oil leaks would extinguish the cobweb delicate balance here and these rare creatures would be no more. The Demon’s Head would make sure that fate never came to pass.

One might posit that had he come forward and revealed the presence of these endangered creatures, the drilling would have to be stopped. Ras al Ghul knew better. For all the arm chair valor of so called ecological lobbies, time and time again has proven that corporations will find a way to sidestep ideals to acquire resources. No, he would not abandon another of Gaia’s children to the questionable mercy of human ‘conscience’.

He looked about as several of his servants began to return to the surface. Their buckets were also filled with the tiny creatures. More than enough to start a new spawning pool elsewhere. It will take time to recreate a suitable environment, but Ras already knew of several suitable locations.

Sudden pain shoots through his chest. With an effort of sheer will, he masks his agony from his men. He needed them strong and confident now that the end was so close. Just a little more time. *

“Time.” He muses bitterly. “Time is now my enemy.”

*A servant swiftly approaches, deftly crossing the slippery stones. Upon reaching the Demon’s Head, he drops to one knee, head bowed and offers a folded piece of paper.

Ras takes the note and opens it. Even in the dim light, he can read the simple note.*

“So, he has survived the Gateless Gate.”

*Looking to the servent he hands him the bucket.*

“Take this with the others and begin our withdrawal. Prepare transportation. I leave for Gotham.”.

Gotham -- The McNider Fund Ball

[mrpierce2u.livejournal.com]

Jefferson Pierce is one to show up early at these things. He never mastered the art of being "fashionably late," and besides, he's got too much going on, and wants to watch people with his own eyes. He's distracted upon arrival by Senator Neptune Perkins, and the two idly talk politics and "No Child Left Behind" for a short while.

Jeff knows how these things work -- reception, dinner, dancing. Right now, he sips a champagne while talking to other politicos. He catches his reflection in one of the seemingly thousands of crystal reflecting surfaces, and decides that he looks fine in a tux. For a moment, he regrets not bringing a date, or at least his daughter. He gets so focused on business sometimes that he forgets he looks awkward when he arrives at these things alone. The string quartet that plays in the far corner of the ballroom is excellent. He's pretty sure he sees Bono in the far corner, dancing with some software industry mogul's wife.

This should be a slam dunk. The circle's so hot to get Ted Kord on board, and Sue Dibny as a bonus prize, that no one seems suspicious at all. No one's looking at the Justice League, at least so far as he can tell. He speaks to another circle member -- Tanner Kae, a real estate baron from the south -- and discovers that even he -- a usual cynic -- is fascinated at the prospect. No doubt.

Ted and Sue have been briefed, but Jeff hopes they understand the import of what he told them: not only does this group have enough political and economic clout to shut down the Justice League, they've done it before. Jeff knows the League -- if the political big shots start ordering them to stand down, most of them will, at least overly. At bet, their work will become covert, and that doesn't help the immediate problem.

It's the public presence of the League that keeps other metahumans in line. If they're not front and center in the public eye, or if they're visibly weak and wounded in the public eye, it doesn't work. The wolves will come out to feed.

He banishes the thought. Best to put on a happy face, pray this goes without incident.

"Yeah," he thinks. "What are the odds of that happening."

(no subject)

[black-adam.livejournal.com]

::Teth Adam hovers slightly off the ground, looking out the window of what remains of the Imperial Palace. War and terror have all but destroyed this decadent display of hedonism and rulership through greed. All the better. Certainly rulership should afford a leader some comforts, but monarchs building palaces when the citizens of their country starve in the streets is nothing he's ever been comfortable with. Outside the window, the people of his country toil to rebuild. Soon he will go outside and return to the reconstruction efforts, working along side them. They must know that their monarch loves and cares for them. That is not only his obligation as a king, it is his greatest privaledge. First, however, he must attend to matters of state. A small man walks in, carying a stack of papers. He strides up to Teth Adam and bows.::

"My lord. I have some information here that you might find...interesting. In this folder is a collection of all the intelligence that our officers have collected on our neighbors. Khandaq could always use more land, and with you help expansion would, at long last, be possible."

::Teth Adam turns to look at the man who has so arrogantly strolled into his 'throne room' spouting rhetoric about expansion.

"I will forgive you this insolence only once. Do not presume to suggest diplomacy to your king. Do not presume to think you know what is best for Khandaq when the only thing in which you have interest in the amassing of a personal fortune. Yes, I will forgive you, but you are hereby stripped of your position. You will go outside and you will calous your hands, break your back, and toil in the sun for what little you earn. You will learn of the suffering of your people and you will know the fault of your arrogance. One does not talk expansion when one's soldiers cannot stand from strain of hunger, fool. Now. Leave my sight."

::He turns back to the window. There is so much work yet to be done, but he will succeed. Khandaq will be great again.::

*Ibn, Diana, and the Dance Floor*

[ibn-al-xuff.livejournal.com]

::Ibn returns to Diana.:: "Thank you letting us talk. Matters between us have improved greatly. Now, I believe I owe you a dance."

*at the charity ball in Gotham*

[mari-grayson.livejournal.com]

Mar'i holds her ground as Ibn approaches her, escorting Diana. Her fists clench ... why did he ask her? How did he know her? And did he know the Graysons had also been invited?

Her chin raises as they stop before her.

Over the com systems again...

[plazmania.livejournal.com]

Hey, guess what, kids! Another update from Monsignor Fantastic up here, and a special shout-out to you Batfolk and Birdies, but a general heads-up to all y'all in the goofy tights set.

Word on the street is your pal and mine, Ra's Al Drool, is in the global distribution market for mind-altering roots, and a 'plant elemental,' my dear Watson, has something to do with this.

This is some extremely unwacky tobaccky we're dealing with - stuff that doesn't just make people crave Cheetos, but would make them ONLY EAT CHEETOS FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIVES. Thus, I'm sure we can get corporate sponsorship from Triscuit if we need some scratch to put a stop to this.

Anyone else out there got more to share on this late breaking news bulletin? If not, just consider yourself notified and get yourself notarized, because notarizing is half the battle.

(no subject)

[mrs-dibny.livejournal.com]

Sue notices the sound of the slap across the room. Ibn-whats-his-name tries to play the rich fool who tried something and got slapped for his trouble.

Yup. Has to be Bruce's kid - and Diana has to know it. No one else is stupid enough to tick off Diana that obviously and walk away only get a tap like that. And only someone in the Warriors crowd would have the guts to cop a feel and think he could get away with it while his significantly powered significant other is watching.

She wonders idly if Bruce is afraid now. This Ibn situation isn't like fighting supervillians, common crooks, big money show-offs, or spying on his friends. This would be a family situation. A matter of the heart.

Bruce's kryptonite.

She feels sorry for him. Still pissed at what he's done...but sorry for him.

On the dance floor

[kathy-duquesne.livejournal.com]

Kathy Duquesne follows Ibn's lead on the dance floor. Some eyes are drawn to the pair... while Kathy might not be a goddess, she certainly has a body that could be compared to one. And Ibn's handsome features have drawn the eyes of a few women in the room.

"So tell me," she asks him, "are the stories about you true?"

On the dance floor with Mar'i

[http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/]

Once they're alone, Bruce's hands discreetly holding the young lady near him as they dance, he murmurs to her, "There's public Bruce and private Bruce, Mar'i. I don't let one meet the other when it's possible. Sorry."

Portents in Thunder

[http://users.livejournal.com/_captain_marvel/]

* Captain Marvel and Mary Marvel soar high up in the sky. Glints of gold light softly fades away in their wake. Making best speed, their course draws them to Fawcett city. To say that there’s a lot on Captain Marvels’ mind would be a gross understatement. He has a clear course ahead of him however and he finds comfort in that.

Thunder rolls in the clouds as they pass. “Strange.” he thinks. “I didn’t see any lightning..”

Again and again, the low resounding ‘boom’ of thunder resounds and growls in the clouds below them as they pass. “Unless we’re the Lightning of course..”

“You catch that?” he queries his sister.
She nods in affirmation.

Something’s up. Something big and magic. Better keep an eye out and check in with Fate soon. *

Above Gotham city:

[phear-itself.livejournal.com]

His minions secure Projcnow in a cell, where she can see her son strapped to a table. Various surgical instruments litter the area; none look clean. Thankfully, the young man seems physically unharmed at the moment... though he is not moving, save for shallow breathing. He is unconscious.

Scarecrow has had to fashion something a little more creative for the Elongated Man. With his stretching abilities, he could get loose from any cell.

Instead, he draws a circle on the ground around the hero. "Move beyond this area," he says, knowing full well his fear-toxin is in full effect, "and you will assure a very painful and ugly death for yourself as well as the two you came to rescue."

He orders his two minions offboard; they will aquire a more permanent method to secure the meddling detective, once the overdose of the toxin wears off. He glances at Projcnow -- her eyes still show effects of the fear-toxin. She got a low dose, however, so she should be sober shortly. And that's when he can begin his experiments, untainted by the gas.

His other, unexpected guest is likely to stay frightened for quite some time.

He might as well start experimenting with him, first.

He moves towards the petrified rubbery hero. "Tell me..." he taunts, "what do you see?"

(no subject)

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

Mrs. Bromfeild’s eyes are puffy and red. Henry, her husband, has been on the phone with the Police all morning. They finally told him to stop calling, and that they’d contact them when there was news. She keeps hearing the horrible words of the lead investigator yesterday.

”Typically ma’am, if the missing person isn’t found within the first 48 hours…”

Her tears begin to choke her again.

Mary hasn’t come home from school yet. She’s probably with her friends. Probably. Mrs. Bromfield tries to stave of panic. It was hard enough to let Mary out of her sight in the first place. More tears..

Suddenly Mister Bromfield leaps up from his chair, his eyes wide as he looks out the front window. “M- Marsha! Look!” He then runs, stumbling over an ottoman, to the front door.

Hoping against hope, Mrs. Bromfield looks out the window and sees Billy and Mary walking up the driveway.

New Arrivals at the Ball

[blonde-techie.livejournal.com]

Lucius Fox isn't even what would be considered fashionably late. Working on Wayne Corp latest set of figures well over time to go to this...ball thing...he none the less strolls in well past the formal announcement time, confident that his substantial bank account and influence over one of the world's largest manufacturing and technological development corporations will allow him the privilege of working a little late to make sure all the "i's" are dotted and "t's" crossed back at the office.

The date on his arm is also a reflection of duty to the company more than a social call. Roxanne Ballentine was one of the best young minds he had seen at Wayne Tech in a good long time - even if she might be carrying herself more like a junior high age girl at an Easter formal out of sheer nervousness. As she straightened her violet floor length gown one more time and checked the blonde hair she had swept up into a functional bun, Lucius could help but laugh a bit under his breath. She'd dazzle them. More importantly, her idea would dazzle Wayne and make the company a heck of a lot of money. tracking Bruce Wayne could be trying though, and Lucius couldn't turn down an opportunity to bypass months of meetings and second-guessing for Roxanne's product. Besides, Mr. Wayne had a interest in these type of gadgets for reasons that were all his.

Now, she needed to relax. "Rocky, we all put our pants on one leg at a time, okay. Your going to be fine."

She smiled at her boss. She was equal parts flattered he would find her acceptable for something like this, hoping she'd be okay meet the unofficial prince of the city and that her idea would get the grant she needed to work on it, and completely overwhelmed by the whole ball atmosphere. She hadn't even been to her prom. She also heard Ted Kord would be here, and well... her was more of a rock star to her than Bono over the in the corner. Nerves, nerves, nerves!

"Easy for you to say, boss," she said as she eyed the dance floor with a nervous smile. "You aren't the office klutz."

the dancing mad are dancing madly - Charity Ball, Gotham

[faceless-freak.livejournal.com]

Once she accepted, Vic Sage took Shiva by the hand and took lead in the dancing step towards the floor. Only in lead, because she allowed it; anything she didn't like, it'd be impossible for him to disagree. Lady Shiva did as she liked - and within reason. That was his perspective.

It was strange, still, to be public again. The ones who did recognize him as simply Vic Sage the television reporter probably thought him dead since his disappearance a few years ago - so, much to their surprise, there he was fit and alive, taking the Lady Shiva for a dance.

The expression he had was generally very fake; it was calm with a light smirk which would have been a true emotion sometime ago when he was still an arrogant and brutal fool. Now he was just crazy and brutal, possibly a fool in his own right and wrong.

And he continued to watch them all.

Gawk if you all may, yes indeed.

The Lanterns battle Sinestro (continued)

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

Major Force and Kilowog brawl with each other, each hit sounding like a sledgehammer hitting concrete. Arisia, still shaken by Force's unexpected appearance, attempts to heal Guy, while John watches on. Kyle, Hal, and Alan attack the fallen Lantern, Sinestro, trying to take him down.

Travis stumbles backward from Sinestro's attack, near Major Force. He looks up from his fight with Kilowog to see a blind, stumbling victim. Perfect. He launches himself at Travis, hoping to catch the blind boy and hold him hostage.

Meanwhile in Star City

[green-shield.livejournal.com]

The pain is better than the tremors, and making sure her family keeps the patent on her research is worth both the pain and the tremors. Every muscle in her body feel like it's full of ball bearings. Strong, but heavy.

Tara Strong is just one 19 year old among the population of Star City. Mom's a nurse. Dad's a mechanic. They live in New Jersey with her younger brother and sister. There's a postwar era house and two pets that contains them all, or did until Tara came to Star on a full scholarship to Star University. What makes Tara different is the the disease. For some reason, her muscles and nerves are starting to fail. They caught it early enough and they don't know what causes it. If she wasn't working at Elevast, she wouldn't have had access to the tools and the medical library need to find the disorder. It's nearly unpronounceable and eventually it will make her body incapable of breathing in, much less standing over a lab the lab bench she now enjoys.

She hasn't told that to the family back in Jersey. They demand she come home or that they'd back up and move here. They'd sacrifice that house, the dog, her brother and sister's meager college accounts, so she might get 5 years in agony rather than six months. Some days, she wishes the Pope would get a goddamn clue about some things and let good families of moderate means off the eternal hook. In the meantime, with nothing to lose, she's donating her body to medical science while she's still breathing and able to come up with ideas for how to stay that way.

About three months ago (4 after the diagnosis) a polymer compound starting showing great progress with being able to fuse to human tissue. The bosses were looking at body armor that could be grafted on. Tara saw a possible way out for her, MS sufferers, Parkinson's patients, and others with muscle and nerve disorders. So in her off time, she started working - living - here. She's adapted the formula so that it looks like it will fuse to damaged muscle tissue and repair it. Even better, the results show that the reinforced tissues can go through mitosis and create new, boosted cells on their own.

She wrote up her work, turned in all her note, as was Elevast's procedure, and submitted it for patent. At least her work could help someone. If it was lucrative, her family would be about to support themselves after she was gone.

A week ago, she found that all the data was missing. That's when she started the treatments. Thank G*d for her perfect photographic memory so that she could start from scratch in the lab for the formula.

Just today she found out that there was another person's name on the proposal and that the red tape machine was going into effect. She's not looking forward to seeing the son of a bitch either.

Family Time

[straight-arrow.livejournal.com]

Ollie is relaxing at home. Specifically, he is lounging on the couch with his "granddaughter" Lian beside him. Between Brickwell, Onomatopoeia and the JLA, he's barely seen her since she came to stay with him. But with Roy off in retreat purifying himself, Lian's staying a few more days. And now that the freak with the bullseye mask is in jail (minus some knee cartilege), he has the time to spend with her.

Mia's upstairs, but he told her to go finish some homework. She's been doing a lot with Lian lately, and it's taking its toll.

The DVD in the machine runs out.

So, sweetie, what should we watch now?

On the balcony outside the ball

[form-of-man.livejournal.com]

Jason Blood steps out, a slight smile on his face as he takes the air on the luxurious balcony. He raises a brow, not bothering to see if the ghost has followed him--he can feel him, after all.

"'Curiosity' doesn't cut it, little ghost," he says, out loud. "Tell me, what do you here? Why seek you to observe mortal matters?"

On a Prime Piece of Real Estate in Hell...

[form-of-man.livejournal.com]

When it comes to land in Hell...this is paradise.

Lord Neron's lands, one of the most sought-after estates in all of the Nine Circles of the Dark Pit, no longer belongs to the dearly departed (and hardly missed) Neron. These lands have been taken over by those in the demonic ranks loyal to the Demon Prince Etrigan.

Said Demon Prince sits on Neron's now vacant throne made of the skulls of long-dead angels. But of course, he's not really sitting there.

That's the problem, after all. The problem that Etrigan has had to endure for centuries.

His incorporeal image sits on the throne, while his real body, his real mind, lies trapped inside the body of the mortal, Jason Blood.

Captured. Imprisoned.

But all that is soon to change. The beginnings of the plan took root in his mind while he briefly had the control of the body, thanks to Blood's illness...

And now, it will come to fruition. Now that Etrigan has found the key to the matter.

The Demon orders one of his sniveling servants to pour a circle of candle wax around the throne, leaving space for soemone else within the circle. It would not do for this conversation to reach Blood's ears, after all. The wax is made from the fat of tormented souls.

He sits (or does not sit) and waits for the demoness Chantinelle to answer his summons.

Gotham -- The McNider Fund Gala -- Part Two: Dinner and other unarmed combat situations

[mrpierce2u.livejournal.com]

*Jeff stands with Sue and Ted and observes the crowded ballroom -- a lot happening he didn't count on. Bruce never shows at these things, and Diana? Who saw that coming? And who is this Ibn character, anyway? And is that Jason Blood? Geez.

Ah, well. At least Sue and Ted are doing OK. Actually, Sue doing well was to be expected, but so far Ted's come through with flying colors. Bet he never expected to be this popular.

The string quartet finishes their song, and Jordan McIntire steps up to the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Gotham, it does an old man's heart to be back in the city he called home for most of his early life." Jordan toasts his glass, and it's hard to miss that he's toasting Bruce directly. "I want to thank Lucius Fox and Bruce Wayne for their genrosity in opening their city to us, to help raise money to defeat disease.

"My assistants tell me it would be crass to start announcing numbers so early in the night, so let me just say that we're doing pretty well." The crowd giggles lightly. The guy's a showman. He smiles. "We could do better. But we'll talk about that once you all have had some more wine."

A bigger laught this time, he's got them.

"In the meantime, if you all want to make your way into the dining room, dinner will be served."

The dining room nearly glistens beneath the crystal chandalier, placards at each setting announcing who's sitting where.

At the main table: Jordan, Lucius & Roxy, Bruce, Jeff, Sue & Ted.

Right next to it: Princess Diana, Ibn, Bono, Sen. Perkins, Mr. Tanner Kae and a Dr. Nancy Saunders.

The Grayson family at another table near the head, along with a few other assorted guests.

And so forth, a sea of the wealthy and powerful, sitting down to eat, drink and chatter into the night.