jla_watchtower | Entries tagged with cicada

immortal-bug.livejournal.com

David Hersch, better known as the metahuman criminal and cult leader Cicada, was waiting for his appointed advocate. He was sitting in a near-empty room, merely a table and a few chairs making up the majority of objects. Cicada was wearing a typical orange prison suit, which contrasted heavily with his pale-grey skin. He wore a pair of manacles that covered his hands, preventing from grabbing and draining anyone who would come into contact with him. The warden allowed him to keep his signature sunglasses, which Hersch suspected was because the man found his glowing eyes to be unnerving.

At this point, David felt as if he were just going through the motions. Why couldn't just put him in prison already. His crimes were well documented so he really didn't see the point. Still, he promised both Robin and himself that he would fight to change himself. That task would be difficult in and of itself, so a little bureaucratic nonsense could be tolerated.

Current Location: Belle Reve Prison

give-me-an-amen.livejournal.com

Deacon Joseph Blackfire has lived for far more years than any man should live. He was born centuries ago to a Hotethk Native American tribe under a blood red moon. It was seen as a sign that he would amount to become a leader of men. Blackfire became that leader time and time again, always gaining control, always to eventually lose it. Each time he lost the power, it was to the fabled King of Beasts. One century it was the man known as Walks-With-Mountain Lions. Another it was a great American hunter known as Hugo Wayne. In the 20th Century it was a vigilante known as the Batman.

Blackfire was determined to change things for the 21st Century. No longer would the power be stolen from him. Blackfire was resurrected in the 21st Century by technologies foul and unusual, futuristic yet also ancient. Devices unknown to him, buried deep beneath Gotham, worked on his body and on his soul and brought him back more powerful than before. He sought out the creator of these wonders and found the terrible Darkseid. Somehow he persuaded the god of Apokolips that his skills of manipulation and persuasion were better than Glorious Godfrey's, and that with Blackfire in his power, Darkseid could finally launch a successful invasion of Earth.

The ancient gate beneath Gotham was activated by the belief in Darkseid and in anti-life, channelled through Blackfire's soured soul. Darkseid stepped through the gate, not knowing that Blackfire was not only channelling this belief, but taking it for himself. At least half of the justifiers in Gotham are as fanatical about Blackfire as they are about Darkseid.

Blackfire stands, arms apart and legs astride the entrance to the gate. He looks like Da Vinci's diagram of a man, except his skin is charred, the Apokoliptian power coursing through his veins. He forces a smile on his face as the blue lightning runs through his body, and he finally steps free. "I am become a god, and even Darkseid will kneel before me."

The gate hums and shuts down like an old computer. The way back to Apokolips is closed.

The chant of anti-life on the surface, not that far above Blackfire's head, permeates the air. The heroes and villains around the circumference of anti-life only have one chance to disable both Blackfire and Darkseid, and that's to strike now, before the Deacon can use his new godlike ability.

Current Location: Gotham City, NJ

tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com

The key to guerrilla warfare was mobility, a small unit size, tactical target selection and of course intelligence.

Mobility they had easily. Most of the team moved like wraiths in the darkened city and one could fly. Their small numbers made it easy to slip past eyes unseen and the notice of non-organic surveillance. The array of tactical backgrounds (given that half of them were trained assassins) in the unit offered considerable wisdom in selecting the right targets. Superboy's enhanced senses and aerial recon provided information that further informed their tactics.

The point was to weaken the enemy's strength, not engage in head on conflicts with superior forces. This point in particular was the issue at had at the moment.

"Ok Dessad is out as a target" Robin concludes after hearing Kon's intel.

tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com

The GCPD building downtown was built like a bunker. It wasn't pretty in any sense of the word, but it was solid and more importantly, very defensible. Years of weathering Gotham's particular breed of nightlife had proven a veritable crucible to shake out the building's vulnerabilities and the end product had proven to be an unforeseen godsend in the middle of the Hell Gotham had been transformed into.

The roof of the structure was the primary point of interest at this moment. From this vantage point, one could see smoke rising in columns across the crimson skyline of the city and there was a view of the smoldering ruins of the main bridges that once lead out of Gotham proper. On the roof itself, dozens of hapless uniformed officers lay unconscious in the wake of the arrival of the building's most recent interlopers. It couldn't be helped. Robin consoled himself with the silver lining that there had been no fatalities. Considering some of his temporary 'allies', that was a fairly impressive accomplishment.

It was a fairly simple matter to hook up the propane powered emergency generator to the large tarnished spotlight. Even so, time was a precious commodity now and the shrieks of Darkseid's Furies echoing in the streets of Gotham reminded Robin that every second they stayed in one place left them vulnerable. He was regretting the inclusion of Cicada and Bane into their group a little less right now.

"Okay, this should do it."

Putting one foot on the clunky machine for leverage, Robin pulls the starter cord in one even draw and is rewarded as the machine sputters to life.

"Hit it!"

uncommon-sensei.livejournal.com

The trek out of hell takes longer than one might expect. All those twists and turns, and the natives aren't exactly reliable for directions. Shiva, Dragon, and Tim Drake have hauled themselves out of the infernal realms, though, with no further interference from Neron. Then back through Gotham Below - finally emerging from a dark alleyway in the East End.

Dragon steps out towards the street, shielding his eyes from the strange reddish cast to the evening sky.

"Are you sure we shouldn't have taken that left turn at Purgatory?"

Seems a fresh kind of hell has come to Gotham in their absence.

jla-villains.livejournal.com

Two A.M. - Keystone City. Iron Heights Meta-Penitentiary.

Two costumed criminals prepare to breach the walls.

"I don't like this. Even if we did get paid a load of money. Actually, I don't like this especially because we got paid a load of money. Who the hell cares that much about baby Boomer? Maybe it was his mysterious Mom.."

Icicle and Zoom had been sent to rescue Owen Mercer, after a substantial payment was made to the Society on his behalf. Icicle had been requested by name, for the security systems - Calculator sent Zoom along as well, 'just in case'.

Cameron plants a hand on the wall of the facility, beginning to super-cool the steel-reinforced concrete.

"You ought to be able to pop this like an eggshell in about a minute."

Current Location: Keystone City

jla-villains.livejournal.com

It seems what they say about the revolving door of Arkham is possibly true. Not so long after his transfer to Gotham's most infamous penitentiary, Hersch had engineered his escape. It's not so difficult to manipulate the mind of a downtrodden guard, and even easier when he's a fan of the colourful costumed heroes of America. Especially... Lord Flash.

"Oh, Lord Flash..." If Cicada had ever given up on his faith for the Flash, his God, he may never have come up with the devious plan that he had. But offering to talk to the man, this guard, about his encounters with the speedster were... oh. That was all the incentive he needed for a quiet corner of a quiet room, and the quick blade to the gut that gave Cacada the strength to walk straight from that place with his head held high.

Nobody would believe how he did it. Literally using the sapped life force from this worthy sacrifice so that he could disappear from all electronic sensors, if only for a few minutes. But a few minutes were all he needed.

Money had never been an issue for Hersch, and finding a trouble-free route to Keystone City even easier. The Gotham villains spent so long going over grudges and in-fighting that there was no wonder they were all locked up within months of escape, but, for Cicada... he had another plan in mind.

Another cult. A cult inspired by the speedster that terrorised Keystone those few days ago; Jesse Quick. Or at least to the public, it seemed to be Jesse Quick. And with this in mind, Hersch laid out his tools in an empty slaughterhouse purchased long ago, plastic sheets flapping in the gentle breeze, and mirror-shades lowered to reveal the electricity crackling in his eyes. "I shall do you proud, Lord Flash."

Current Location: Keystone City

scream-and-cry.livejournal.com

Dr Crane sat at one of the many dining tables in Arkham Asylum, awaiting the arrival of one of his fellow inmates. One of the few that he considered almost a peer in terms of mental fortitude and innovation. Mr Nygma.

The food being served today was surprisingly good, much better than when he worked here in fact. Times have changed. His bespectacled gaze traversed the room, and he saw both patients he had once "treated" and others that arrived long after he finished working here as one of the resident psychiatrists. So many of the inmates had so much depth and potential, and so many fears to be exploited, provoked and exorcised. Or merely exploited and provoked. He took such pleasures from making these fears manifest and seeing the outcome... But this was what he was now trying to repress. This obsession had driven him back to Arkham over and over again.

He looked over at Cornelius Stirk, restrained, and being fed by one of the orderlies through a tube. Crane considered his own postition remarkably lucky. For the past two months, he had been taken out of restraints due to the esteemed professionals' opinions that he was harmless without his fetishes. His mask and fear toxin. Perhaps they were right. Sometimes he still ached from the gunshot wound caused by that Gotham police officer, but word from the outside was that she was now long gone and far away from any possible vengeance. A pity.

He kept staring at Stirk. "Imbecile..." Crane rubbed his eyes. Stirk had recently become convinced, or rather, was trying to convince the other inmates, that he was the devil, or he had demons inside him, or some such. It was a common claim of the psychotic trying to shift the blame on to other, more supernatural elements. "Demons do not exist any more than gods do, being only the products of the psychic activity of man," Crane muttered to himself. Sigmund Freud had come to that conclusion, and the Scarecrow was happy to go along with it.

Chewing on some of the roast pork he had ordered for lunch, his eyes then rested on a more interesting character. David Hersch, or Cicada. Not strictly insane, yet, like so many others, thrown into Arkham. "He was in Iron Heights, if I recall..." Crane thought a moment and then remembered. One of the chiefs at Iron Heights had recommended he be sent to Arkham, as he found the highly intelligent man a bad influence on the other prisoners. Basically, he had been thinking up some far better ways of rehabilitating criminals than the staff at Iron Heights, and nobody likes to be told how to do their job.

Cicada had killed a whole horde of people, and Crane couldn't recall exactly why. He was playing chess alone right now, and as Nygma hadn't shown up yet, he walked over to him. "Do you mind if I sit in?"

Current Location: Arkham Asylum

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!

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JLA Watchtower (Archive)

Entries tagged with cicada

The People vs David Hersch

Life vs. Anti-Life

On the Move

GCPD downtown - The Roof

Escape From Gotham City

Iron Heights

A new Cicada...

Lunch at the asylum

In San Francisco, things are torrential

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November 2016

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