jla_watchtower | Entries tagged with hush

nynecrymes.livejournal.com

Questioning it did no good. If the situation was to be contained, it would have to be done quickly and as quiet as possible. An issue like this one was completely out of the Metropolis jurisdiction of his team, but given the happenings, he didn't have time to care. Catman tried to stay to the corners and alleys of central Gotham avoiding any and all rioters.

He'd spotted a glimpse of the target in question. If he was to end this, the obvious point was the dark abbot himself.. Catman pops his knuckle blades, looking for the most direct route between himself and the sermon giving Deacon Blackfire.

It would take a literal army to wade through the followers, and increasingly violent watchers. But Thomas Blake was simply one determined man. He prayed it would be enough.

Current Location: Gotham City, NJ

give-me-an-amen.livejournal.com

"People of Gotham, I salute you!" It has been a long time coming, but the Deacon Joseph Blackfire is once again on a podium in Gotham square, masses around him, and being played to televisions and radios across the city. All have heard of how the holy man has cleaned up the streets in a violent yet effective pogrom of the colourful psychopaths that make up the city's rogues gallery. All have heard how Blackfire intends to make Gotham a glowing example of how a city should be in these modern times. All seem to have forgotten the man named Blackfire from a decade ago, who tried something very similar, and was supposedly killed by his own cult...

"That is right, people of Gotham. I salute each and every one of you for having to put up with characters such as the Joker, the Scarecrow, the Riddler and the Catwoman. The Batman. Oh, hoo hooo. The Bat Man. Your saviour from all of these freaks and malcontents." Blackfire chuckles as the crowd grows hushed. To many, Batman is a rumour and myth, but one that brings hope in the darkness. "You have trusted your fate to a man in a bat costume!! I salute you people for your desperate need to cling onto anything that can bring you light, but surely, Gotham has gone too far when it needs a being like that for protection!"

Blackfire waits for absolute silence before continuing. "I am no politician. I am not running for some kind of office or official position. I am an old, very old man, and I have seen the world and all its faces. All of its evil. I can tell you that there is no evil more raw and corrupt than in this city. It breaks my heart to tell you that you have all gone far too far, but it is not too late. I have performed wonders over these months, and I will show them to you."

On the large television screens erected in Gotham Square appear images of burned out houses and factories. "These are places purified by my righteous anger, Gotham City. I am no pyromaniac, do not misunderstand me. But safehouses for criminals? Brothels? Drug dens? They must all be removed like rotten flesh from around a wound." A number of men and women accompany Blackfire on the stage at this moment. "These are my brothers in arms. You may recognise some as some of the most terrifying monsters in Gotham, but through me they have found the true meaning of existence. They have no need for individuality when they work for Gotham. Gotham the being, Gotham the state of mind. You can work for Gotham too, if you do but listen to me."

Something is going on. Perhaps it's something in Blackfire's voice. More likely it's the subliminal message being played through the huge screens. The crowd begin to chant the Deacon's name. "Ha, haha. No no, I am not your leader. I am merely his disciple." He quietens the crowd down, but the television crews picked up the wave of support for Blackfire, and it's infectious.

"Do you feel... loneliness, Gotham? Alienation, perhaps? No doubt due to the state of your city, you sometimes feel fear and despair. Why, when you could live in a jewel like Metropolis, where is your sense of self-worth? They mock you, you know. The other people in America. They condemn you for your following of false idols. They misunderstand that it's all you know. But perhaps you should feel guilt, and shame. Even failure! Do not worry though, Gotham. You do not need to feel these things alone. Feel them together, and come before me. Feel them together, and be as one. Hate all others. Your hate is justified. Where were the rest of your countrymen every time your lives came under threat? Hate them! Anti-life justifies your hate!!!"

And Gotham explodes...

Current Location: Gotham City, NJ

jla-villains.livejournal.com

Copperhead lounges in a comfortable armchair in his Gotham mansion. Formerly a hideout used by one of the dead bosses of the Czech Gang, Copperhead seized it as part of the systematic takeover brought about by the Unholy Triad of the Monk, Prometheus and Hush. Copperhead, Hugo Strange and Clayface had been among their most loyal lieutenants, and for the past six months, business in Gotham had been damn good.

And then this religious cult had to spring up and ruin it all.

Word got to Copperhead that one of the Triad is due to pay him a visit tonight, and he only hopes it's Hush. Prometheus... He's a difficult man to read, if he is a man. And the Monk... Well, he's dead. There's no other word for it but dead. If he isn't really a vampire, he's the closest thing to the real thing in Gotham City. At least you can hold a conversation with Hush.

The villain pours himself a brandy and watches the roaring fire, as he waits for his guest to arrive.

Current Location: Gotham City, NJ

prometheanplans.livejournal.com

Now here's something you don't see every day - Prometheus in church.

Mind you, this isn't an ordinary church. It's condemned and collapsing, the only kind of church Prometheus could ever tolerate for long. It's one of the five 'nesting grounds' acquired by he and Hush for the use of the Monk's ever-growing cabal. And most famously, the Joker once fell to one of his many deaths from the great bell tower that has now fallen into ruin.

It's been a few months since Prometheus last checked in. Luthor stole his Cosmic Key, sending (read: stranding) him into an alternate dimension as a 'gift' for his help. Bagging the cowls of several of that world's heroes was fun for a while, but in the end unsatisfying. He considers himself reasonably adaptable, but truth be told, even he doesn't know how he got the Key back. Unless Luthor saw fit to return it to him before his defeat.

Hush has called this little meeting. He's got the best information among the three, and apparently the word is that there's a new player in town. One who's already lured the likes of Firefly and Zsasz into his employ. And may be responsible for the death of Poison Ivy, if the more outlandish rumors are true.

Prometheus isn't buying that one. Ivy's about as hard to kill as kudzu. But the introduction of a new player to their little game is quantifiable - Elliot got the word personally from their stool pigeon at the Iceberg Lounge - and better still, entertaining.

As he waits for Hush, Prometheus makes a game of shooting down the few remaining crucifixes in the church with his wrist gauntlet.

flightlessfelon.livejournal.com

Even on the quietest of nights, the Iceberg Lounge never falls short of ostentatious. The Penguin lives for his bling, and in stark contrast to the other throbbing, rhythmic nightclubs of Gotham City, his Iceberg Lounge has a rather more subtle, subdued atmosphere. Pandering to the upper class as always, the Iceberg Lounge is a glittering monument to excess. Tuxedoed men romance their dates, serenaded by a dapper chamber orchestra. A few infamous faces sit among the airbrained elite.

High in his private balcony, Oswald Cobblepot sighs contentedly, swirling a martini gently in one hand and listening to the orchestra play. He's kept his beak more or less clean, and it's served him well. He's well aware of the nasty business going on with the Black Mask, but even Cobblepot won't shed a tear for that man's demise. Roman has done nothing but make business difficult for everyone.

He has a special quest in the Lounge tonight. Captain Cold has come all the way from Albania to share a drink with him. Snart isn't his usual choice of drinking companions but Cobblepot has been expanding his network. There's no sense in having friends in just Gotham. After all, no one can say what tomorrow holds, can they?

prometheanplans.livejournal.com

Experience is usually the best teacher, and Prometheus always considered himself a good student. His very first encounter with the JLA taught him a valuable lesson in knowing his fellow criminals as closely as the capes he hunted, and he's heeded the lesson studiously ever since. Ironically, it's one of those very criminals who has contributed the most to his information gathering methods - he'd thank Roman Sionis, if he isn't sure the man would try to have him shot first. Pity - they share a common enemy in Catwoman.

But Black Mask isn't the target of his current attentions. That honor would go to another relative newcomer to Gotham's perpetually-active hive of lawbreakers. A man who, in the span of just a few months, has already incited half of Gotham's criminals to wage war on the other half, with only a rare few even catching a glimpse of the puppetmaster pulling the strings. The anarchist in Prometheus has to appreciate that.

Unfortunately, that puppetmaster is starting to make mistakes. His first mistake was getting too close. And now, he's getting sloppy.

Such a shame, because Prometheus honestly respects what the man's trying to do. A vision few even among the criminal element can fathom, much less appreciate. A Gotham at war, a Gotham consumed by chaos. It isn't about the pawns - doubtless victims like Catman and Poison Ivy felt differently, but what did they know? What it's really about is the law. The police. And most of all, Batman.

The way Prometheus sees it, the system of justice is like clay. It can be stretched and molded. But if you put enough heat on it, eventually it'll become brittle... and eventually, it'll break.

The man called Hush has done more to turn up the heat that most of his contemporaries have done in the past ten years. As much a fan of defenestration as Prometheus is (and one only needed to ask Oracle for proof), Hush is still of some use to him. He has to save his life.

scream-and-cry.livejournal.com

Crane hasn't been back to Nevermore Detective Agency in two weeks now. He's left a few messages for Edward, when he knew he wouldn't be there to take the call, but aside from that he's been busy. At work. Injuring a particularly dangerous little reptile.

"Heeheehahaha." He slaps the newspaper that he's holding in his other hand, and chuckles inside his burlap mask. This is too perfect, and dear sweet precious Miss Alice Logan is quite the writer. Dr Elliot would be awfully unhappy when he reads this rag, and the story on the front about what a hero of Gotham his apparently monstrous father was. It had taken some work, pulling resources to make this tat look believable, but now the good Elliot patriarch was as much of an idol to Gotham as other, more real esteemed figures.

"You've done oh so well, Miss Logan. Oh so well. And now you just need to wait as bait for the big bad gorgon man to pay you a visit. Lord knows you've put your name in this story enough, so he'll know who you are and shouldn't find it difficult to find you. But don't you fret; I'll be there to protect you, and then we'll sort out your cure."

Current Location: Gotham City

xpoisonivy.livejournal.com

Getting shot, not a big deal. Getting shot with weed killer, insulting but again not a big deal. Being blackmailed, irritating but not so bad.

Having to find out that someone beat your best friend to a pulp... <b>not cool at all</i>.

Hush would pay for this in blood. Ivy had spent most of the night searching for him, seeking him out, but when it was apparent that he was a hard man to find she changed tactics. Now she was walking down the streets near his last sighting causing red woods and giant sequoias to spring up in her wake. If that didn't get his attention, she'd just have to spell out his name in vines all over the damn city.

When he found her she would show no mercy.

Ivy was gonna smack a bitch.

Current Mood: angry

http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/

Bruce prefers to be alone. Very few people know how to remain in his company without rattling his concentration, something in effect almost every waking hour. In fact, the few people could probably be boiled down to a total of one: Alfred Pennyworth. Yet in the time since he and Selina began seeing each other, sleeping together, living together, he got accustomed to having her beside him in bed. Between his usual concerns and her absence, he has been sleeping even more fitfully than usual of late.

Fitful sleep makes for unpleasant dreams for Bruce Wayne, when the nightmares visited on the Batman are no longer held at bay by his force of will.

After the usual alleyway encounter with Joe Chill, his dreams turn to other matters, newer matters. To a man who had saved his life and repaired his skull after a fall that should have killed him, to a man who had been a childhood friend of Bruce.

Tommy Elliot.

Current Mood: exhausted

mari-grayson.livejournal.com

As humans count the days, it has been over 3 years since Nightstar, Starfire, and Nightwing challenged Croutex to a duel in the Dreaming, ending at last in Destruction's intervention, though he had declined to resume control of his realm. Over 3 years since Dr. Fate bid the heroes of his universe to dream, and rebuild the order left tattered and torn by Croutex and its followers. To other races, especially the immortals, it has been only a moment ago.

There comes a time when this year's gathering is not quite so noisy. Nightstar flies above the heads of the attendees, landing before what appears to be a painting draped in starlight velvet. Judging by the size, the newest attendees may wonder if the hidden work is a lifesized portrait, but of who? Those who have attended this multiversal summit meeting before nod to themselves and each other in anticipation.

"Excuse me," Nightstar says politely, waiting until the attendees have focused their attention on her. "I know some of you are new this time, so I need to explain things. My Lord Shaper is willing to let you all have glimpses in the dreams of those who dwell in the multiverse. I'm afraid you still won't be allowed to make any requests, and the glimpses may not last very long. I can't promise that you'll see anything useful, but just in case ... please pay attention?"

With that, she pulls the veil aside, revealing that the frame is, at first glance, empty.

And then the frame fills with images....

alicelogan.livejournal.com

Sure it was chilly, but that's what gloves are for. Yeah the park bench was cold, but it's a small price to pay to get inspired. Alice Logan, junior reporter for the Gotham Gazette was going through her notebook trying to piece together a story. She often wandered through the park, usually after work so she could think. She wasn't used to being there in the daytime.

Smiling as she watched children building snowmen and playing around, she took a deep breath and went back to her notes.

Focus. You're too easily distracted.

Her stories lacked luster as of late. Anyone could write about crime after it happened, Alice wanted to break a story as it was happening. She wanted to be there and help bust the villains. Maybe she'd even get an interview with Batman!

Her pen scribbled furiously as she daydreamed of action and adventure.

Current Location: Gotham

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

Bette has been going around both Titans bases giving everyone their presents. There are some presents under trees and some left in rooms and in a few cases outside of rooms because she'd rather not try to go into them.
( Tear the wrapper off! )

xpoisonivy.livejournal.com

It had been almost an hour since Crane had left. Ivy had calmed down from her laughing fit and showered, but hadn't bothered to get dressed yet. She was still lounging in her silk robe, red hair drying in the sun coming through her large bedroom window. It was a knock at her bedroom door that shook her out of her reverie. Harley didn't knock, so it had to be Jonathan again.

With a sigh, she fluidly rose from her chair by the window and made her way to the door. She spoke as she opened it, slowly, "Honestly, Jonathan, you can't wait a few more hours----"

...An unexpected visitor

Current Mood: lazy

nynecrymes.livejournal.com

Alcohol makes for the most wonderful of companions. The user becomes much more sociable, funnier, and , if necessary, bulletproof.

Catman has decided to make great friends with it this evening. He's registered in a local suite under "Karl Kyle" and has moved to make his way there. " 'Cares what Batman thinks...I'm in this City, seein' the sights. MY city." He wavers back and forth outside the Iceberg Lounge before calling out into an alley.

"I know you're there...you shithead. With your ears and your ugly belt." He nods to the shadows. "I'm better than you. Even now. I'm faster than you. I'm hotter than you. And fuck you!" Blake gives a Cheshire grin. "There's...you can't beat me. You didn't the last time, or the time before that. I'm the one that got away...and I bet it burns your ass to see it..."

With that, he walks into the alleyway, full of courage and unsheathes his knuckle-blades. "C'mon tough-guy. I bet you can see this..."

Current Mood: bulletproof

bigbadharv.livejournal.com

It's taken some doing. It's taken some digging. It's taken some dubious promises and a hell of a lot of legwork. But things are ready.

Rupert Thorne is an old dog trying to teach himself new tricks. Rebuilding his criminal empire after spilling all the details of his operation to the cops, thanks to some well-placed mental coercion, means he's got to relearn how to get things done, and none of the reliable failsafes are options anymore.

Some guys would be happy with knocking that kingpin down a few pegs. That's not the kind of guy Two-Face is.

That isn't the kind of woman Sonia Alcana is.

Thorne is trying to put together a new patchwork amalgamation of kingpins to consolidate some new power, but he's got an unsavory group to work with.

There's Joey the Snake, the ex-thug trying to take the step up into the big players club, and he's mean enough that he's been able to strong-arm cronies to form an actual organization. Green enough that he thinks taking a chance in associating with Thorne makes him ballsy and rebellious, as if that's a good thing.

There's Slick Akeem, the self-proclaimed Doctor of Style, the kind of obnoxious, ostentatious idiot that can only hope for three years at best before someone caps him cold. At this point, though, he's got a big crew of people who thinks he's something special. That never lasts. The fact that Thorne is dealing with this guy speaks of how far off his game the fat slug really is.

And then there's Big Sal, one of Thorne's oldest friends, who owes Thorne most of his career. Turning him away is going to take some extra oomph.

It's all been planned for. Now's the time to see if the Penguin's goons won't screw the pooch.

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JLA Watchtower (Archive)

Entries tagged with hush

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Goodbye free will. Goodbye identity.

The calm before

Moral Majority? You Must Be Joking

Hitting An Iceberg

From The Frying Pan...

Miss Logan, I think we have a story.

Don't mess with a woman's Harley

When dreams may come

Ἀποκάλυψις - The Lifting of the Veil

Just another day in the park

Time for presents!

A knock at the door, who could it be...?

After the Gotham Affair

Stranger Bedfellows