[identity profile] firestorm09.livejournal.com
For once in his strange life, Sand was taking it easy by doing some good detective work without any super powers involved. He was investigating the recent rise in violence in New York City. It was probably not one of his best ideas to travel alone in this city with it's history of meta-human violence, but Sand needed a break from the team for a few hours at least. He figured that he needed to focus on using his detective skills instead relying on his powers for everything.

His brain was getting off the subject at hand because he was trying to justify the fact that he was out here alone without any backup. Sand's mind snapped back to reality, which was trying to trail this kid without using his powers. It was proving more difficult than he had hoped as the youth was quickly evading him by cutting around every corner in the city almost. "I think this kid knows that I am following him, so I guess that I am forced to going to plan B." His muttering to himself was getting some strange looks from the people he was passing, but not as weird as when he shifted into his silicate form and disappeared down an ally.

Sand was cutting through buildings, while popping his head out a wall every once in a while to keep tabs on the kid who he was following. He finally came out into an alley that he last saw the kid walk down only to find that it was completely empty of life except for a few rats. "Now things just seem to be getting odd." He searched the alley to find a small grate where water drained down into the sewer that had been moved recently by someone or something. Even though he knew it was not going to be pleasant, Sand shifted downward into the sewer and went back to his human state.

There was nothing to tell him whether the kid was actually down here or not, but he kept searching for some clue. His brain told him that he was just trying to avoid the truth that he needed help for this type of work now, but his pride wouldn't let him admit it. Sand finally found a manhole which led him to some warehouse district of New York City. He decided that he should head home as this night had been a complete waste in his personal opinion. Sand had not tracked the kid nor had he left his powers out of the situation. "Well I guess it is back to the drawing board."

Sand adjusted his mask, fixed his coat, and started walking towards home, or what he figured was the direction for home. His ability to navigate the city was completely shot after being in the sewers for a long period of time. His hope was that he would eventually run into something that would let him gain his bearings. With that in mind, it started to become cloudy, and the sound of thunder could be heard over his head. "This is a bad omen if I ever saw one."
[identity profile] jla-alcatraz.livejournal.com
Somewhere in the bayou of Louisiana, in a former Legion of Doom base, abandoned for a good fifteen years (and showing it), an increasing group of criminals of all varieties gathers. Starting through online chats, occasional telephone calls, and even rarer, an actual letter and meet-up, a general feeling of dissatisfaction has begun to plague the supervillains often referred to as B-Listers, or Second Stringers. This feeling has grown, and leads us to the meeting today, where the Fadeaway Man sits at a long, rusty table, his fingers pressed together to form an inverted v shape beneath his nose, as he ponders and plots.

"It's all incredibly unfair, you know." The Fadeaway Man mumbles this, quietly, to the villain to his right, with whom he has been sharing some absinthe. "I was once one of Hawkman's nemeses. The Shadow Thief and I quite often gave that lumbering oaf some things to worry about, I can tell you!" He takes a drink. "But now... Nothing. I consider myself lucky to be taken seriously by the cape and cowl brigade, even if I do possess the Cloak of Cagliostro."

Finishing his absinthe, Lamont sighs. "You know, I have a stash of weapons, armour and gadgets of all shapes, stripes and colours in my pocket dimension! The dimension my cloak can take me to. And that's all fine and lovely, but what's the point in stealing a Qwardian anti-matter gun if you don't know how to fire it, and nobody on your planet will buy the damn thing off you?! I stole a dozen of the bloody things!" His slams his fist against the hard table, making a resounding crash. "It is not through lack of skill that we are where we are, but sheer bad luck. If I had had Lex Luthor's money to begin with, I would have an industry and a monopoly on business. If I had had Felix Faust's magical ability, do you think I would use it to steal trinkets, when I could be ruling the world?! No! It's time we made a stand, is what I say."
[identity profile] man-of-stee-ll.livejournal.com
In a different place, another time, things could have been better. Or they could have been much, much worse. But when you're given a chance to see your mistakes, and re-live them what can be done?

A panicked twosome were the subjects in question here. Their location could have been considered paradise to some. Again, how often are you stuck on a deserted island with a beautiful woman, and no distractions for miles?

"...and every ounce of your blood for a quarter tank of gasoline!"

But then again, perhaps not?
[identity profile] sand-hawkins.livejournal.com

When the idea came up for a couple's night out, Sand knew exactly where to take them, especially when Tara said she's ready to eat at "any old diner".

Jerry Lee's, the place in Metropolis that Sand and Corrine discovered, sounded absolutely perfect.

It was as Sand remembered it - only far more festive.  It's Christmastime, you know.

The restaurant area had a new focal point - a 10 foot tree decked out EXACTLY as it would have been in the 50's, with old-school big fat lights and everything.  To the left, the canteen/dance hall area had several dancers decked out in their holiday finest, with a lead singer doing a dead ringer impersonation of Ella Fitzgerald singing "Sleigh Ride".

He and Corrine had a great time here the last time they visited - he had hoped Travis and Tara would as well.

[identity profile] 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.
[identity profile] jla-villains.livejournal.com
Jesse Quick has sent out the APB.

But right now, Titans Tower is on fire in half a dozen places, and the torrential storm overhead isn't stopping the fires nearly enough. Lightning sizzles through the sky, and well over a dozen flying figures soar around the Tower, surveilling it and occasionally blasting it with something. Many more are on the ground and in the Tower itself - parts of the Tower explode periodically as the violence escalates.

The Tower is under siege, and the Titans are fighting a losing battle.

But things change, and Weather Wizard turns his head and sees:


Incoming!
[identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_black_canary_/
Dinah has brought in plates loaded with food for herself and Pieter, though those plates are now half-emptied. "If you want more of that green bean casserole, I think there's another pan of it left," she tells Pieter. "What about dessert? There's pumpkin pie. Is that vegetarian enough for you?"

Pieter smiles slowly. "Hey, I don't know all the rules yet," she teases him back. "You're going to have to--" She breaks off, frowning. His mouth is open, and she can hear his voice, but it is deeper and slower than it should be. "Pieter?" She leans over to shake his shoulder. No response.

She looks at the monitor images for the brownstone's interior. The figures pictured are not moving. "Light, you bastard," she mutters under her breath, creeping slowly to the monitor door.

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