Demonstration of a fundamental tactic

[starfire-kory.livejournal.com]

The Warlords of Okaara did not use cute acronyms when instructing Koriand'r and Komand'r in the art of war. Only when she came to Earth did she learn about "salute" and "sam & doc." But the principles known to humans had been perfected by her teachers in the Vega system when Earth's civilizations were still learning how to use gunpowder.

Size, activity, location, unit, time, and equipment.

Strength, armament, movement, deployment, organization, and communications.

Learn the nature of your enemy, the Warlords had taught her. Their stupidity is a gift, but your own intelligence must not be blunted. Know where they are. Know their strengths and weaknesses. Know their movements. Know their minds, and you will know victory.

She has no great desire to learn their minds, but their numbers and weapons, yes. She cannot hope to match their mastery of this terrain, in the short time she has been here, but an aerial view will tell her something of the territory as well as the nature of their enemy.

If this so-called general wishes to play at war, he will learn what it means to stand against a daughter of Tamaran, much as the grass knows what it means to stand against the scythe.

JLA Meeting

[amazon-diana.livejournal.com]

The call has gone out to all members of the League, active and reserve, and those on the Watchtower are already filing into the meeting room. There will be those who cannot attend but there should be as many people here as possible.

Things have been stagnant since the Tribunal last year, the League is ever more reactionary and less proactive. Dr. Light and Slade are running their own organizations and how has it come so far that the other side is organized and the League is drifting?

It doesn't matter, today they will brief the League on what has happened and they will move on. It's time to finish the healing begun a year ago.

War Path

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

She knows in all likelihood that the tapes have either been destroyed or removed from the premises.  That doesn't mean she's going to let it slide though.  Montoya is convinced there's something on those tapes that Mr. "Undertaker" Vespillo doesn't want exposed.  She's going to find out what if she possibly can.

After a lengthy telephone conversation with Max Hudson's secretary, a warrant is in the works for WNTR.  She and Allen find themselves in the DA's outer office late in the afternoon to argue the facts.

Touchstone

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

He's done a surreptitious sweep of the area. He's set a few surprises for anyone coming in who shouldn't - knockout pellets, some tripwires that'll set off stun grenades - and Donna's talking to the others in the commune, trying to rustle up support. They can knock a few teeth out of this organization, but they need to think long-term, too.

He's sitting down the road in the Jeep to make a call. There's no cell towers out here, but communicators don't have that problem.

Oracle, this is Nightwing. Got a minute?

Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city

[oracle-watching.livejournal.com]

Gotham City. Even at high noon there is something dark and forboding about the place, as if the narrowest shadows are still capable of hiding dreadful things.

At night, in summer, it is only somewhat cooler, and for once, this August night, the shadows do not seem to be hiding too much. It's too hot, too humid, for anything to disturb the night. The entire city is too busy trying to escape the stifling heat, preferably in the air-conditioned interiors of the city's skyscrapers and houses. For those who linger outside, this is a time to walk along the sidewalks and boardwalks, cold drinks in hand, the condensation dripping off the cups and bottles and falling with a hiss to the ground.

"Nothing's happening tonight," says a dismal Batgirl. She tugs at her cowl, looking down at the tourists wandering the promenade far below them. "I need a summer-weight costume."

(no subject)

[alt-minds2.livejournal.com]

Brother Joseph has managed to take Garfield Logan out to the Shed. He flicks on the solitary light bulb, allowing the young man to see all that he has stashed here - the physical reminders of his shame and need for eternal penance.

There's silence. Damn, this is a lot like what he had to do to Glen a generation earlier. He hoped better for Aurora, but she's got too much of her father's damn stubborn streak.

It's enough time to pull out three magazines, laying them on the table like he’s dealing blackjack.

The first is that magazine featuring the Titans. It’s open to a group shot they did for their media kit. Kory is proud, fiery beauty. Victor’s metal body is polished to a mirror finish. Kon’s got one arm around Cassie, the other hand scratching Krypto’s ear. Bart and Garfield look like they’re goofing off.

The second is a copy of Utne Reader, talking about “Progressive Young Millionaires.” Gar’s going to recall posing with Dick and a handful of other heirs and heiresses who were turning their vast inheritances into charitable foundations.

The third? A special edition of Heroes Monthly, a collectable tribute to the contributions of caped and masked mystery men and women through recent history.

“I know who you are, and I know what you are. Now, we have bigger problems with these jackboots in town. I know that. And you and your friends have made what was already a tense situation boil over into war. I hope you are goddamn proud of yourself.”

The stare could melt lead.