JLA Watchtower (Archive)

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."