planetaryguide: (Mystery Archaeology)
[personal profile] planetaryguide
  It's a gorgeous Southern California day in Sunnyville: the sun is shining, music's blaring from cars and open windows, young people are dressed for the beach, seemingly if they're just going to school.

Whitney Winters has come to hate the sun. She sees it as just a big lie glitzing over the horror that lies beneath the world's surface. And she's seen horror.  Horror that's cost her friends, family, her very innocence, 

"Yeah, yeah," she says to herself. "Pity party, table for one." She shakes it off and shuffles to class. That annoying Valentina Cazador is playing in the hallways. "That girl is the devil," she thinks, now realizing that she's late, and doesn't even have her chemistry textbook. She sighs, and doubles back to her locker. 

No sooner has she pulled the book from the locker, though, then she realizes that the hallways has been blocked by a wall of ice. 

"Miss Winters," says a pale white man with a sort of Jack Frost motif costume, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm afraid I need you to come with us."

jakita_wagner: (Eyebrow)
[personal profile] jakita_wagner
Jakita sits at one of the desks, feet kicked up on the nearest corner, as she flips through an outdated copy of LA Travel.

"Spacation? What the hell does that even mean, Phoebe?" There's a jangle as keys get tossed across the room, and she catches the ring in one hand. The question is directed to the young blond woman who is wending her way towards the pair; she shrugs.

"Can't tell ya, Ms. Wagner, y'all don't give us a whole lot of vacation time to try stuff like that out. Maybe bring that up to the old man next time you see him?" The smile on her face softens the harsh words, and Jakita can't help but grin back at her.

Phoebe holds out a neatly-labeled folder. "This has everything you need - insurance papers, some traveling cash, and an address for the lady you're there to talk to. I apologize in advance for the traffic y'all are going to hit, so please try not to blow anything up, because it'll just make it worse."
planetaryguide: (Mystery Archaeology)
[personal profile] planetaryguide

And then, the world turns, and they are somewhere else. Someplace impossibly old. It's a dizzying spin, even for the mightiest among them, but in an instant, Elijah Snow, Jakita Wagner, Abdullah El-Amin, Black Adam, Freddy Freeman and Jay Garrick find themselves in the market of an ancient city, its towers reaching high toward the sky, it's buildings opulent and clean ... but empty.

At first, there appears to be no life in the city at all. But then, a cat appears, perched in a window. It is black and sleek, and it regards the visitors curiously, but makes no move to either run nor greet them.

Elijah takes a moment to take stock of the situation. The timely intervention of Shazam (note to self: Not the one he thought it was at first) seems to have quelled the fight between Jakita and Adam. Jakita looks a little banged up, but none the worse for wear. And then there's Abdullah ...

"Mr. Garrick," says Elijah. "It's an honor to meet you in person. I've followed your exploits since the '40s. In fact, I was in Keystone in '43, tracking down the Shade, and saw you two go at it. Quite inspiring."

He had actually interviewed the Shade, afterward, for that year's Planetary Guide. Both encounters caused him to believe that the number of superhumans would only escalate in the years to come. Still ... He shakes off the nostalgia, and turns to Adam.

"Lord Adam," says Elijah, cordially. "I apologize that this whole situation has gotten out of hand. We meant no offense. We were simply trying to make contact with this young man here."

He nods toward Abdullah, who is still wound tense, but seemingly not preparing to attack immediately. 

"
Abdullah El-Amin," he says, not making any sudden movement toward the boy. "My name is Elijah Snow. I've been looking for you for a long time now. We have some things in common."

Abdullah regards the man, but it's difficult to read his reactions beneath the mask.

"They call me the Ghost of the Desert, now" he says, levelly. Elijah chuckles, and nods.

"Heh. They call me the Ghost of the Twentieth Century,"  he says. "Maybe they're running out of cute nicknames."

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.
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."

 

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