Relm of the late Calcabrina - in Hell

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

Shortly after the abysmal performance of the New York National Guard against the Khund invasion, President Lex Luthor established a new branch of the American armed forces. This branch was structured, trained, and equipped specifically to fight extra-terrestrials, and would act on the behalf of any human population threatened by an alien. This new branch was to be comprised of only elite, battle-tested soldiers. It was going to be small, streamlined, and special.

It came to be known as the Human Defense Corps, and from the moment it was declared operational, it began earning a reputation for resourcefulness and daring on the field of battle.

In their first action, sixty-six of the first special armored division were kidnapped by extra-dimensional creatures. The battle continued, and the Corps prevailed, but it never sat right that they had lost so many of their own. During that same encounter, the blood of one of these creatures mixed with that of Sgt. Montgomery Kelly.

Two years later the Corps figured out how to cross dimensional barriers, and mounted a rescue mission for their missing soldiers. And despite all the sterile Department of Defense terminology, what they really did was, in the literal sense of the words, go to Hell and wade through an horde of demons to get to their people.

In the process, they encountered a demon named Calcabrina, who, upon learning that the U.S. Military was both in Hell and looking for it, chose to attempt to sacrifice the captives to Neron, and thus divert U.S. attention away from it’s realm, and into Nerons. It failed, and the captives were rescued.

In Calcabrina’s possession was a staff that allowed him to control lesser demons. Due to the fact that his blood had been combined with that of a demon, Sgt. Kelly was able to use the staff to assume control of the natives, who then became quite compliant. Ultimately, the United States even chose to open an embassy in that realm in Hell.

But Calcabrina’s death led to a power vacuum, and paved the way for others to rise to power…

*****

Caleb’s first experience moving between dimensions occurred during his time under Neron’s influence, and he had been hoping that perhaps his mental state had scewed his perceptions of it. Sadly, it hadn’t, and as such he again finds that the experience of inter-dimensional travel isn’t exactly a pleasant one.

Upon arriving in Hell, Caleb isn’t first set upon by the incredible heat, the smell of sulfur and flesh in the air, or the extraordinary, yet, alien landscape, but rather by the incredible magical auras inherent to every piece of this level of reality. And as a result he can’t help but feel somewhat nervous, as this effectively jams his magical radar.

“So, this is Hell,” he asks with a hint of curiosity in his voice. Best not dwell on that just now. “Barring the .. the option of simply asking one of the natives, how, uh … how do you propose we go about locating the American Embassy?”

Okay. This sucks.

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

Having her jaw wired shut totally blows.

Bette is feeling grumpy about this whole thing. Those two morons, who she's taken down ON HER OWN before kidnapped her and broke her jaw. Right now, she can't seem to manage to feel accomplished in getting away from them either. Mainly because they just left and she manages to escape the danger of the chair! Oooooo, it was so dangerous.

She has a pad of paper, a pen, a pillow and the TV. Here she is curled up on the couch feeling more than a little grumpy about this whole thing.

She had no idea how much she used her mouth. Eating every meal through a straw totally sucks.

In the Halls of the Kahndaq Royal Palace

[black-adam.livejournal.com]

Marzuq stands at the doors to Teth Adam's royal chambers, wringing his hands, sweat beading on his forhead. The fate of their people and their country may depend on how he handles this and Marzuq has never considered himself skilled at the art of diplomacy. From the opposite end of the expansive and majestic hallway approaches the Minister of Defense with a confident stride. Behind him walk two imposing figures in uniform, officers in Kahndaq's Royal Guard.

"Marzuq, my esteemed colleague. I have come to discuss matters of state with our Monarch. May I be given passage into his chambers?"

"I am sorry. His majesty is not to be disturbed for any reason. He was very clear on that fact and you know this. Sir."

"His majesty has been undisturbed for nearly two weeks now. There are whispers in the streets. The people fear their monarch has left them and, at the sake of losing face, I must say I cannot help but feel for them."

Marzuq can feel the heat rush to his face and, though he desperately seeks to hide his fear behind a mask, his expression cannot help but betray his intended demeanor, "Sir...I, do not know what to say. I have my orders."

"Must I force my way in? You know it is within my authority to do so."

"Do as you will, sir...but may I share a bit of information with you before you break down these doors."

"Very well, but do not think that you will persuade me to turn away. There are matters of state that simply CANNOT wait any longer."

Marzuq leans forward and brings his lips very near the officer's ear. He whispers several words to the man, who's image grows pale and grave at the news. Finally, the visitor speaks, "Well. I suppose under the circumstances I can manage. You are sure of this news?"

"Yes, sir. As certain as I have ever been of anything."

"This news must not go beyond our ears. You were wise to keep this from me, but now we must be sure this secret goes nowhere else." He turns to the two men in the hallway and, in a split second he draws a gun and shoots them both, "We will have to dispose of them. Traitors, you know. No one...and I mean NO ONE is to learn that his majesty is no longer gifted by the Gods. With any luck we can find a way to fix this before the word gets out. For all of our sakes...let us hope this is possible." The man pulls a cell phone from his pocket, dials, and speaks, "There are two traitors in the Grand Entry who must be disposed of. They attempted to assault his majesty's chambers. No one is to see his majesty until further notice for security reasons. I am sure the other ministers will understand."

The minister hangs up and turns to walks away. He stops for a moment as if to say something, but continues, leaving Marzuq in silence to contemplate his future and the future of his people.

Multiplicity

[lesliethompkins.livejournal.com]

Five minutes is all it takes. She wanders out into the hallway in search of coffee. When she returns, her midnight patient is gone. The bed is empty. The sheets are twisted and forgotten. The IV dangles, dripping its contents out onto the floor. She stands there in the doorway, staring in disbelief.

Her sleep deprived brain struggles to comprehend the facts. When she left, the Joker was unconscious. His tortured and mutilated body would not have permitted him to move with the speed needed to leave the surgical suite. Someone must have helped him. Or someone must have taken him.

There's only one person she knows who can move that fast.

Another sensation begins to build right along side the acid burn in her stomach. It's a knot. Pure, unadulterated anger. He brought her a patient to care for, regardless of her feelings. He brought her the man who killed Alfred. He expected she do everything possible to save the Joker. He removed that patient without her permission. From her clinic.

Twenty minutes later, she once again lets herself into the Manor. She bypasses the house and makes a beeline for the cave. There isn't an ounce of fear amidst the rage.

Gotham City's West Side, 9:45pm

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

The entire Japanese restaurant has been reserved for the evening. In the past hour, several large Cadillac Escalades have pulled up, in turn depositing men in expensive suits at its front doors. The doors in turn are being watched by bouncers who look more suited to working for the Secret Service than the Mob. The owners of the restaurant, understandably nervous, flit between the kitchens and the dining area with glasses and plates in hand.

Inside, Sigiorello is hosting an elaborate dinner for his capos in a haze of Cuban cigar smoke, conversation and warm sake. This meeting's taken months to set up, and a lot of greased palms to secure. Nothing is allowed to go wrong tonight.

Nothing can go wrong.