first_lightning: (Default)
[personal profile] first_lightning
There were advantages and disadvantages in the life of a costumed superhero. Being identifiably American, one of the challenges was not causing international incidents should one be called into action in a foreign country. Kahndaq, in particular, was something of a hot spot, due to the sometimes unforgiving character of its ruler - the mystical demi-god called Black Adam.

So getting a face to face with Black Adam probably shouldn't involve running right up to the palace steps, in short. Jay's plan was much simpler - kick up a few dust storms in outlying areas with just enough of a pattern that Adam would come looking to investigate them - then they could have a face-to-face without stirring up too much trouble.

And truth be told, he was beginning to have a little fun - starting to see the appeal of crop circles to pranksters back home.

Coming Home

Dec. 8th, 2016 11:51 pm
soundsmith: (Serious Costume)
[personal profile] soundsmith
The rain poured down, drenching his clothing as he stood out there, staring frozen at the empty mansion. A couple of his rats scurried up his body to find some small semblance of shelter under his hood, before eagerly lapping up a few of the droplets that ran down his face and dripped off his earlobe. His face softened slightly at the reminder that his 'pets' were present.

"I'm sorry, my lovelies. We'll be out of the rain soon."

Just as soon as he built up the courage to walk through that door. Technically, the mansion was his. He was, after all, the heir to the Rathaway fortune, their property included, seeing as his parents had welcomed him back into their lives and their will along with it before they were murdered. And that, of course, was the reason why he had trouble lifting his feet and forcing himself to go inside. He hadn't been there since he'd been arrested for their murder, something he later was acquitted for when it became clear that the Mirror Master was the culprit. Still, he wasn't sure which haunted him more, the thoughts of them, lying dead in their home, or the fact that part of him almost expected to be able to knock on the door and have them answer.

Yet, part of him knew he had to do this. To deal with this. So much had happened in the years following his parents' death, and he'd focused on bringing Mirror Master to justice (which he hadn't actually managed to do), ended up on the run a few times, spent some time in prison, but, well...he'd never come back here. And the place was in his name now, so he really should.

Hartley was about to force himself to take another step when he heard footsteps behind him. Approaching him.
metropolismarvel: (Smile)
[personal profile] metropolismarvel
Its late at night at the Kent Farm, and the Man of Steel has a plan.

He's cleared a bit of the back 40, working quickly and quietly; the fence seems to be the standard material favored by farmers throughout Smallville, but a careful observer might see some strange sediment sparkling amid the wood. Crystal. Just a little something from his cache of Kryptonian artifacts to dampen sound and subtly dissuade visitors from paying attention; Clark's still working on a name for it. Solitude Field, maybe? The K-Tech's distortions will, if Clark read his father's notes right, allow for a perfect practice ground to help Jon start to master his abilities while keeping their alien presence a secret. No more landing in the neighbor girl's barn and scaring her cat!

Clark makes a mental note to look into why their neighbors are so... blase about all the strangeness that's been happening since the Kents moved into town. Not that he minds Jon having a friend, the opposite in fact, they just live in a world of android duplicates and sinister conspiracies and he literally doesn't know what he'd do if either of them broke his son's heart. Fatherhood is new and the intense emotions its brought on scare Superman, a little.

Either way, its perfect for his needs; he can hear any trouble, but trouble will have a harder time finding him...or his son. "Jon!" Clark calls to the house, "Come out here! I want to show you something!"
hawkfire: (Hawkfire: Watching)
[personal profile] hawkfire
Bette Kane had been on her way to join West Point when the memories had suddenly flooded her mind. Things she'd forgotten - rather, things that had been taken from her - were suddenly coming to the forefront of her mind. Memories, experiences, friendships, hopes, dreams, crushes. Holes that she hadn't realized she'd had in her past were suddenly filled in. In the space of a few moments, Bette Kane had felt whole again.

As a matter of course, she'd realized that going to West Point, following in her cousin Kate's footsteps that way, wasn't what she was about at all. So she hadn't gone. Instead, she'd returned to Gotham City for a few days, trying to gather herself and her thoughts. Writing down the new memories so she wouldn't forget them again. Trying to make sense of who she was now. Having been encumbembered by that past had been good for Bette. It had allowed her to grow, and she promised herself that she wouldn't allow anything to stunt that growth.

But she also needed to reconnect with the past that had been excised from her mind. The past that she had been disconnected from.

Which was why she was here, now. Titans Tower. A place she hadn't been in years. A place she hadn't even recalled that she'd been to before. But she had been. She'd been a Titan, once.

The last time she had been here, she'd been Flamebird. A failed hero. A joke. That ditzy blonde who'd gotten into the heroing business because she'd needed friends, because she'd had a crush on Nightwing. She wasn't that girl anymore. She'd nearly died, but she had survived, risen from the ashes of Flamebird into something else. She was Hawkfire now. She'd been trained by Batwoman, by her Uncle Jake and his Murder of Crows. She'd faced a Legion of Monsters, Bane, Mister Freeze. She wasn't perfect yet. But she was better than she bad been.

Will it be any different, though? she wondered, looking up at Titans Tower. through the lenses of her bronze half-helmet Will they remember me? Will they respect me? Or was she doomed to always just be that one hero who would never make it? Bette drew in a deep, shaky breath, and then steeled herself. Bette didn't know if anyone was inside, if she could even get access in. But she had to try.

Small glider wings popped out from the pack on the back of her uniform and Hawkfire flew up to the top of Titans Tower and landed atop where she knew the common living area had been. She peered inside, wondering if there would be anyone peering back.

The fact that someone inside might consider her an interloper or something hadn't even crossed her impulsive mind.
needsnewbusinesscards: (Default)
[personal profile] needsnewbusinesscards
John was having a much needed cigarette break in between moving magical and mystical artifacts from his old friend Jasper's Mill House that he had been staying in during his adventures to the House of Mystery that had become the headquarters of the Justice League Dark, he didn't see the point in having two residences when the House of Mystery was a lot more mobile and less confusing to navigate since he knew the magics that lingered within more than those that had been placed by someone else. It wasn't an easy job as just putting things in a box and hoping that they didn't break in transit, there were some items that just couldn't be packed with others unless the exorcist wanted very bad things to happen and then there was the unpacking too.

Constantine sighed with a puff of light grey almost white smoke issuing from between his slightly parted lips as he tried to figure out whether he should just ward one storage room from the backlash of whatever was going to happen, or to actually sit down and  sort through the small mountain of boxes so that things didn't explode or even call forth someone like the demon Trigon by accident.
first_lantern: (Glow)
[personal profile] first_lantern
Alan looked forward to these Tuesday mornings. They alternated week to week, and tried different places. Always local coffee shops and diners, though...Sanddollars got enough of the market share.

The aftermath of the...event...had Alan in a familiar place. Deaged...again. Not his youngest, but younger than he had been. Young enough to feel vital again.

Even so...he hadn't been out in the costume recently. It didn't feel right. The Justice Society was...gone for a time...and his memories of his time in that team were scattered to the point where he couldn't lock down yet which of them to trust.

But some things...like friendship...transcends time shenanigans.
amazo: (Default)
[personal profile] amazo
The day before Thanksgiving, and the Daily Planet offices are buzzing as Perry White walks through the newsroom, having returned from...somewhere. He doesn't say much, just nodding and grunting as some of the newer reporters and copy editors just...get out of his way. They normally do that when he's in a bad mood.

He turns into his office and walks towards his desk...where he apparently is already sitting, typing furiously away. "Perry" walks over to the desk and leans on his arms, waiting for Perry to notice him.

"You know, doors exist for a reason." Perry says as he finishes his sentence and looks up. "Mainly to keep from being dis....what the..."

As Perry sees this...other Perry...the form morphs, Martian-like, into the visage of Amazo, the One Man Justice League.

Perry gasps. "Great Caesars'..."

Amazo shoves the desk, with Perry and the chair behind it, straight backward, through the window, several stories up.

"...ghost." Amazo finishes.

planetaryguide: Elijah Snow (Default)
[personal profile] planetaryguide
 It's been a long time since I've been to Dubai. I was here in the '30s, while the British were chasing pirates. I was searching for other treasures entirely ... chasing rumors of a lost city, of mighty heroes that defended Kahndaq and Egypt in antiquity. Investigating names like "Shazam" and "Nabu." I never learned as much as I wanted, but I've heard the names resound since. 

I look out at the skyline while the local bureau chief, Shirazeh Nasser, explains to us some of what's been happening in parts of Syria and Iraq, the stories of a ghost who hunts and kills terrorists. Drums is unconvinced ... doesn't see how some anti-terror vigilante is our sort of mystery. I listen to them talk, but I'm captivated by the skyline, the way it stretches out into the desert, the way it reaches far into the sky. It's hard to imagine this was the same place I saw all those decades ago. It's almost unrecognizable.  

Shirazeh is a veteran bureau chief, and she doesn't flinch at having the field team in the office ... I hired her myself, after all, almost a decade ago. She's had a series of keywords to look for, a series of mysteries I've wanted to dig into for decades, but had to put on hold.

"You told me you wanted to look out for ghost stories, Mr. Snow," she says, and there's something almost mischievous in her voice, a sense that she knows I'm going to be interested in what she has to say. "You told me to look out for ghost stories, lost cities and teenagers with inexplicable abilities. You told me when I began to see those elements emerge, that I should hit the alarm. Well, they have, and now you are here."

 

greatest_zatara: (outrage)
[personal profile] greatest_zatara
Just a quiet afternoon in Metropolis, until it's not. There's a mild explosion, as three men in ski masks go flying through the front window of a convenience store on main street.

~Five minutes earlier~

"Gimme all the money in the register! Nobody moves until we're out of here!"

Zach pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. All he wanted to do was go pick up a can of soup, maybe a diet soda as well. And he gets this. He wasn't even in his work clothes, he was in jeans and a hoodie. Why was he attracting this kind of trouble?

The thugs started going around, demanding wallets, while the alpha-thug continued ranting and waving his gun at the cashier, who was fumbling with the keys in their fear. They got to Zach, he shook his head again, and handed them a business card.

"Wuzzis?" The thug snatched it away and read it. "Zackery Zatara - World's Greatest Teenage Magician." He threw it down, and put a gun to Zach's head. "Tryin' to be smart, asshole?"

"I'm not smart, I'm brilliant. Sisylarap." Zach cast a spell on the man and he fell over, unable to move his muscles. There was a scream, and other thugs started encircling him, firing shots. "Stellub eb llits!" The bullets all froze in mid-air, saving both Zachary and the bystanders, having fallen to the floor when the shots were fired, from them.

"Now put your guns down and wait for the police to arrive before I need t-- THE HELL?!" Zach wheeled as he felt a shadow falling over him. The lead thug had run around and had toppled a shelving section over on him.

"This is why I'm in charge, maggots! Y'gotta fight with cunning!"

Zach snarled as his wand appeared in his hand and he blasted the toppling array with an ice blast, freezing it and it's contents in place. "CUNNING?" He fixed the thugs with a venomous glare, energy crackling around him. "I'm one of the most powerful transmutationists in the world, and your idea of cunning is to push a shelf over on me?! Hctirdle sniahc!"

Green chains of energy spewed out of the end of his wand, grabbing the thugs still moving and bundling them together in mid-air. "If I weren't so irritated, I'd be insulted! Thgil eht esuf!" He taps his wand to the end of the chain, and it crackles, burning away and releasing a mild explosion that sends the thugs flying through the window.

After the smoke clears, the place undamaged besides the initial disarray it was thrown into when the thugs pulled their guns, Zach brushes himself, grabs the items he wanted, and heads for the register. "I really don't feel like waiting, so just keep the change." He slaps down a twenty on the counter and marches for the exit.

Sisters

Nov. 15th, 2016 09:51 pm
wonder_woman: (Warm Smile)
[personal profile] wonder_woman
There are few simpler pleasures in the world than basking in the warmth of the sunlight. Given how dark and stormy the world has been lately - how full of turmoil and doubt, with things that were and things that are at war with one another - it’s this simple pleasure that Diana Prince chooses to focus on as she stands by the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park. She breathes in deeply, holds her breath, and then exhales. So much seems to have changed lately. A mosaic of memories and moments shift in and out of her mind as she tries to sort through what was, what is, and what was never. It seems more difficult than it ought to. Even when she used her golden lasso of truth on herself, none of it truly rang false.

But what does it mean? Diana isn't sure... )

Diana opens her eyes, her lips curving in a warm, welcoming smile. She is all too aware that people mill about her, taking pictures, watching her, wondering why she was here, who she was to meet. She hears the murmurs of the crowd, she sees the people waving, and she waves back, returning the warmth they so willingly extend towards her. To those who approach her, Diana makes friendly conversation, drawing them in as though they are old, cherished acquaintances. To those who asks, Diana poses for a picture or gave an autograph. She loves this - talking to people, interacting them, getting to know them. It fills her with an immense amount of joy. It;s never about the adulation, about the way they look at her with a sense of worship in their eyes. It’s about connecting with the world around her - connecting in the way that she hopes she can with her sister. Her eyes gently sweep the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman who she so sorely missed today. Donna will be here soon, she knows. Diana is, as always, terribly early.
hunk_a_lantern: (Greatest GL ever)
[personal profile] hunk_a_lantern
You'd never know it's been ground zero on so many occasions. The building looks new it's been rebuilt so many times.

The facade has been blown out more times than Guy can remember. He could have built an entire apartment complex with the lumber and nails that have gone into the place over the years.

The plumbing has been host to weird alien gunk so often that PipeBros and Rush-Rooter stopped returning his calls. Extreme measures has to be taken to avoid a Corps intervention.

Wood floors look great, but durable they aint.

Don't even ask about the foundation. Most of it is now an aggregate of materials you don't find on Earth...except for maybe in the labs of evil genius gorillas bent on world domination.
Concrete and rebar just wasn't cutting it.


Fortunately a Power Ring makes the ultimate handyman helper.


The last touches are just now going up. The neon flashes it;s emerald green of course but a few ice blue lights have been added to the venue as well.
Love is compromise, ya know?


Warriors is open for business.



Music
mars_my_destination: (Thoughtful)
[personal profile] mars_my_destination
The Justice League Watchtower

J'onn J'onzz stared out at the stars from the bridge of the Watchtower, feeling quite at home.  To return to these hallowed halls, to once more be counted among the World's Greatest Super-Heroes...

J'onn would never be one to compare or put his suffering above that of others.  But Doctor Manhattan and the others who had played so recklessly with time and their lives...  His  history, his friends, his very sense of self had been stolen from him.  He had been turned against his friends, his very history, the history of his people, had been altered to the point of being unrecognizable.

But he was himself again, his memories and history as they should be.

He looked out at the stars and at the Earth.

"It is good to be home."

makeemlaugh: (Default)
[personal profile] makeemlaugh
Some people have compared Gotham to a layer of hell, though others say that the essential flaw of the American character is that they're storytellers and prone to exaggeration.

In other words it doesn't rain every night. Some nights aren't even marred by explosions, helicopter chases, or the cacophonous screams of the latest mob of victims of a edgy pop flashcrime. Sometimes all you hear is the latest Lorne Michaels sitcom playing as people sit with their families and recover from a hard day's work.

The Batsignal can come on then, too. Conspiracy theorists say that the police don't even use it to summon the Batman much anymore, having a direct hotline to his headquarters, instead having the iconic symbol of Gotham's skyline as a reminder to criminals that the Dark Knight is out there, somewhere.

Only, if someone were paying attention, tonight it isn't coming FROM police headquarters.

And it really isn't supposed to be smiling either...
cock_robin: (Default)
[personal profile] cock_robin
Picking a lock with two broken fingers isn't a trivial task, but as long as the thumb is intact, it is not an impossible one. Damian flexed his left hand as the right one worked - everything was intact on that side, but he knew from experience that his time would still be better with the damaged right.

A nearly imperceptible click brings a confident smirk to his face, and he slips inside - moving with stealth despite the garish colors of his suit.

He wasn't sure if the doctor was in or not, but this was the nearest safe stash of medical supplies, according to Father's files, and prompt treatment of the fingers would bring him back to his full capabilities all the faster.

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Watchtower Rebirth

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