JSA - Control.

[jakeem-thunder.livejournal.com]

Jakeem's volunteered for monitor duty in an effort to convince his Aunt that he is mature enough to be able to handle full time membership of the JSA, and that the work is teaching him responsibility, and team spirit and other good stuff.

Playing gameboy while he waits for his shift to end probably doesn't further his image of professionalism but hey --

Jakeem sits up. That's weird. Wildcat's signal just did this weird blip thing. The light's still on but . . . He tugs the headset over to him.

"Yo, T-- Wildcat," he says remembering just in time to use codenames in the field. "What's up?"

No answer.

"Wildcat? You there? Over."

Still no answer.

"Shit," Jakeem says, looking at the control board for anyone present. He enters the code to send a general message to any JSA folks who might have their communicators open. "Yo, this is Jakeem on monitor duty, y'all. We got a possible sit -- anyone near Harlem mind checking on Wildcat for me?"

On Titans frequency:

[jakeem-thunder.livejournal.com]

Jakeem enters the Titans code frequency carefully, and picks up the headset.

"Yo. Um, this is JJ Thunder, on behalf of the JSA. I got news for you guys. Um, over."

Final Confrontation

[the-batwoman.livejournal.com]

Kathy knows what is coming. She knows Bane peeked under the mask while she was unconcious -- why else would he ask for all three of them now? Her father, Penguin, and Thorne -- she remains bound and held by Bane as she watches the three crime lords step into the room. And she knows that it's only moments until she's unmasked in front of her father.

Bane hit her hard -- she's still not moving up to her full potential. She can't get loose; she can't fight.

She remains silent, and doesn't struggle; better for them to think she's too weak to do anything at all. It's not too much of a bluff, but it might be enough of one.

*at the Clocktower in Bludhaven*

[oracle-watching.livejournal.com]

All the boxes from the week's deliveries have been cleared away, though Barbara can't help but remember the year of No Man's Land, where that much plastic and corrugated cardboard would've represented a fortune to anyone needing to insulate their home. She touches her gravid abdomen protectively, remembering the babies who were born that year ... who had threatened them and who had saved them. Sarah Essen-Gordon's grave will have a new visitor this year.

Gypsy scampers around, chasing a scrap of cardboard that missed the cleanup effort. "Hey, fuzzbutt," Barbara says affectionately, "don't drop that in your water dish this time, okay? I know it's fun to watch it float around, but it just makes your water nasty."

A signal comes from the security system, and she wheels to the nearest monitor to see who's there.

To rest

[connor-hawke.livejournal.com]

The cut has all but healed, but Connor can still feel it. Shiva (or, more accurately, Shiva's employer) will do something with that small vial of blood he "donated." However, that is a matter that will be dealt with later, not in the here and now.

Swipe, spin, kick.

He practices katas in the Queen mansion training room, waiting for word. Tempest has Roy under lock and key, so it's not his de facto "brother's" safety he's worried about, not what weighs heavily on his mind.

Block, punch, duck.

Still, the games themselves are close at hand, and he has already given his word to aid Roy with whatever help he can give. Part of that unwritten, unspoken, but nonetheless present code of the cape and tights "life."

Turn, lunge, back to center.

The games will be soon, sooner than Connor likes, but the date is set, the events too far in motion to halt them now, even by act of God (or Gods, as the case may be). Roy and the Titans will fight for the life of a teammate. Diana will be collateral for her sister.

Bow.

However, there is one question he must ask, one last matter to settle before he can either give his aid with a clear conscience, or make a final (and he knows, futile) attempt to dissuade Roy.

And one of the very few who may have the insight he seeks is upstairs.

He blows out the lone candle and starts up the stairs.

"Dad, you still awake?"

The flow of blood...

[shiva-wusan.livejournal.com]

.. from her nose has been stopped and with the use of a mirror, she's managed to straighten it once again. The sample has been sent off to where ever it is that Ra's is having her send them. There are other injuries, however, that she needs to tend to and they are more difficult to tend to on her own.

The leg will need a splint at some point. It might not truly be broken but it feels like it is. It feels like there is a hairline fracture in there. Probably from catching Wildcat. Along with the seriously strained muscles. She shouldn't use some of those for quite some time, but she doesn't think she has that choice.

It's an odd, odd thing to hear from Shiva but she sighs as she sits down on the bed, not caring that she's covered in soot and suffering from smoke inhilation or that her clothing is charred.

Today has been a hard day.

Bird hunting...

[femme-du-chat.livejournal.com]

Selina has been more active in Gotham these recent nights. Tonight, however, Catwoman is looking for a bird. She has something to ask him. She doesn't know if this might be something he's interested in all but there are very few people she knows who can do what she needs...

And he's one of them.

So, she's keeping her eyes out for him, hoping to find him out and about, with a smile on her face.

On patrol in Blüdhaven: 1:13am

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

It's quiet tonight. The triple-digit heat indexes of the day are putting a damper on the usual petty theft. Even the street dealers are thin on the ground. The 'Haven's not renowned for air-conditioning as standard in most of its apartment buildings, and I'm reminded again how much this city -stinks- when it hasn't rained in six weeks. Even now, at just after one in the morning, it's 78 degrees, and if my kevlar wasn't already skintight, it would be by now.

I'm trying not to think about that part too much. Only a couple more hours, and I'm going home for a long, cold shower. Even the police bands are low-traffic, and what calls there are, are nothing they can't deal with on their own.

It's just too hot and humid to do much of anything. I'm kinda hoping it stays that way.

I probably jinxed myself just by thinking that.

Ibn and Mar'i Youthful Adventure

[ibn-al-xuff.livejournal.com]

The energy flash hurts his eyes only for a moment and then everything seems larger. Ibn wonders for a moment if he had been attacked with a shrinking ray or something. And then, he looks across the table at Mar'i. "Oh, crap. . ."