[IC] DC Unlimited

The Justice League had been active for several years. Their membership included Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern (Alan Scott), and Robot Man. Most of them were already in their 40's, Batman was rumored to be in his 50's. The team took down threats such as Brainiac, the rogue General Eiling, Solomon Grundy and an army of the undead, a Thanagarian Cult, and dozens of others. One year ago the Justice League extended its reach and took in several new heroes to form the Justice League Unlimited. Over the course of the first several weeks the League learned about the existence of a similar group, composed of super criminals, calling themselves the Society and brought together by the devious Lex Luthor Jr.

Present day the world is full of heroes. After the death of Superman seven months ago at the hands of the monstrous creature called Doomsday criminal activity has gone up in several countries around the world. After completing an exo-suit to compensate for the beatings his body had taken the last twenty years, Batman worked with the League in training younger metahumans and such. While the League is operated in Metropolis by Wonder Woman and Robotman, Batman trains the group he’s come to call Titans in San Francisco. Green Lantern is on reserve status with a wife pregnant with twins on the way in the next two to three months, living upstate now about an hour away from Gotham in Jump City. There are several active members of the JLU as well as reserve members on call. Dozens of other costumed individuals have made themselves known over the course of the last year outside of the JLU. Central City, Coast City, Jump City, Star City, Hub City, Bludhaven, New York, San Francisco, and Midway City in America as well as Tokyo, Hong Kong, London, and the small country of Khandaq all have had dozens of reports of superhuman criminal activity with few people standing up to fight.

Rules:

1.) No back-to-back posting.  

2.) PAY ATTENTION TO DETAIL AND SET-UPS!!

3.) Make sense. If we can't make heads or tails of your posts they're likely to get skipped over.

4.) Get permission before using another player's character in your posts if it involves changing the scene or making actions. Everybody will take beatings in this game in battle however, so don't get pissed if you get punched or blasted into a wall by the bad guys! Namely me or the Co-GMs controlling the badguys...

5.) Problems with the game or players should be sent directly to me or the Co-GM through PM's. I don't want a bunch of bickering in the OOC. And I don't particularly like it when some random argument costs the game players and story potential. So don't be dicks to each other, just send your concerns to us. 

6.) Abandoned characters will be used as NPC's or killed off within the context of the story.

7.) “I was waiting for [insert player/character] to make a move” is not how this game is played.

8.) There is no rule #8. (I actually took this non-rule from an old Lord Wraith RP LOL)

9.) My word is law.

10.) Obey the law.

11.) In the event that I'm offline for any period of time, the  Co-GM @Sir Lurksalot and @WXer will take control and THEIR word will then be law.

MISSION LOGS:

the TITANS

A New Night: Bruce Wayne is hosting a charity gala and a villain holds the party hostage. Luckily, the entire city was watching and prompts a new breed of heroes to answer the call of action

The Hunt for the Bat: The Bat-signal is lit once more after years of being out of commission. Will this draw the Batman out of hiding?

Moving Day: The Titans move out of Gotham. Can they handle the responsibility of living under the same roof, and will they need to hire movers?!

JLU

Apokolips How?: In this universe Superman and the League have never encountered Darksied or his minions. Until now. What happens when the ruler of the dark planet's son Kalibak is accidentally Boom Tubed to Earth? And who will show up to escort him home?

Jump City Starro's: Alan Scott contacts the JLU when Starros invade Jump City. When the League arrives they're over taken and enslaved by dozens of civilians with Starros on their faces, including Alan Scott! Can the League survive? And how does Luthor Jr.'s Society play into things?

Last Week's Fish: When rumors of Black Manta resurfacing after a long hiatus, Amanda Waller and her newly-formed Suicide Squad has been sent to apprehend Manta regardless of his side on the law. Manta now faces against the original Manta's former ally and friend, King Shark along with other members. Good thing the Justice League's around...

Remember that EACH and EVERY POST needs to have the formatted header I'm giving you guys the coding for. If the story arcs, team-ups, or team missions involve other players I also highly suggest using @ tags as this RP will likely be busier than what some are used to. Happy gaming, here's the code.

E X A M P L E   O F   C O D E:

C I T Y / C O U N T R Y:
Month DaySuffix, Year - Time (24hr or 12hr Clock) | Specific Location - Suburb/District/Borough

E X A M P L E   W I T H   C O D E:

[Color=CHARACTER COLOR][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]C I T Y / C O U N T R Y:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][h r][INDENT][sup][COLOR=SILVER]Month Day[SUP]Suffix[/SUP], Year - Time (24hr or 12hr Clock) | Specific Location - Suburb/District/Borough[/COLOR][/sup][/INDENT][/COLOR]* Remember to remove the space from [h r] to create the 'Horizontal Line'.

E X A M P L E   O F   C O D E:

[PRE][Color=CHARACTER COLOR][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]C I T Y / C O U N T R Y:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][h r][INDENT][sup][COLOR=SILVER]Month Day[SUP]Suffix[/SUP], Year - Time (24hr or 12hr Clock) | Specific Location - Suburb/District/Borough[/COLOR][/sup][/INDENT][/COLOR][/PRE][sub]* [COLOR=SILVER][I]Remember to remove the space from [h r] to create the 'Horizontal Line'.[/I][/COLOR][/sub]

NOW LET'S ROLE PLAY!

- Ω

Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Lord Wraith

Raw —

Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

Member Seen 1 hr ago

Lord Wraith

Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

8460 posts

in 3965 days

Seen 1 hr ago

Bio

P R E S E N T

- Feat. @Ruby as Kar’a Zor-El

G O T H A M   C I T Y:
May 15th, 2019 - 22:31 | Staggers Night Club - Burnside

"Kara, you have to move faster. Someone is trying to track you using satellite technology."

"Disable it, Sanc. I'm not sure I can move much faster."

"According to my projections, you can move faster by a facto--"

"Say that wearing spaghetti straps, Sanc."

The AI paused for half a second. "I will block the attempt to track your flight pattern. Again."

It was the same every time she went anywhere near Gotham City. Sanctuary and whoever, whatever, had been playing this game of cybernetic back and forth. Sanctuary had it's theories for who was behind it, but now was not the time to confront anyone on the planet with those kinds of resources. She had just wrapped up her first semester at MIT, and while it was unlikely Kara would return to Boston for another semester considering how quaint she found the terran institution in some ways, she didn't feel ready. Not in terms of her abilities, not in terms of her mental state.

And sure as the stars not emotionally ready.

For her she had lost everything not even a year ago. Her craft hit a wormhole, and she was knocked off course for decades. She had continued to be trained, to learn, during her slumber. As a fully matured mind she was capable of that, whereas the infant Kal-El was not. His time in space was just lost potential. Kara's was not. No amount of learning would help her, however, when the man with stars for eyes came for her in the darkness of her cryogenic slumber. "Awake, Kar'a Zor-El. Before you die." 

When she awoke and saved herself and Sanctuary, floating on one of Earth's salt water oceans for weeks before she found out anything of value. Then the learning truly began, and practicing. The senses could be overwhelming; especially when it came to the scents of Gotham City. The place stank in a way most Earth cities did not. Boston could be bad, but it wasn't as bad as Philadelphia. Sections of what the hew-mans called "Asia" could just reek all the way to the upper limits of the atmosphere, but among the western hemisphere there was nothing quite like the smell of Gotham City. 

Like a mix of wood rotting from wet, industrial chemical pollution, and the ever-present underlying notes of death and decay. Given what she had learned about Earth, it's people and their culture so far, there wasn't a better suited Earth city for this Batman than the one he claimed to protect. Why hadn't Kal-El stepped in? If Sanctuary's projections on their powers were correct, Kal-El could have ended petty crime in a single day. Any serious corruption could have been left to someone like the Batman. So why? Was it the secret identity wasting Kal-El's time? Was he afraid of this Batman for some reason beyond Kara's mental math? 

It led her to an old dark brick building barely four stories tall, so old and on such compromised ground she swore one side of the building leaned over the alley in which Kara landed, looking like it might lean further to "touch" the other old and decaying brick and wood building that stood next to it along the Gotham street that straddled the industrial docks and what Sanctuary only referred to as "the Bowery." 

Sanctuary might as well just called it urban decay.

Her landing was smooth enough. Sorta. The landing was fine, but the short heeled brown leather boots she wore threw her super-fine balance for a beat until she corrected. The boots hugged her nearly to her knees, snug and tight over the thin dark blue jeans that felt more like a second skin than they did jeans. The mystery of density between male jeans and female jeans bothered her until a classmate just laughed at the question one night as a social function: "It's sex, Kara. Everything boils down to sex. The hell kind of boarding school did you attend my naive little child?"

Sex didn't bother Kara, just the alien nature of these hew-mans. Dream had prompted her to give them a try. Kal-El gave his life to protecting them and this planet. The spaghetti strapped tank top showed enough cleavage to be dangerous for both those who would be attracted, and Kara herself, "Neon Indian" written across it in a font best suited for timespan simply referred to as "the Eighties", it's neon rainbow colors across her chest matching the font, so she was told. The brown leather jacket over that was unzipped and left open, tight enough without restricting movement, it's "waist band" going almost down to her waist. 

When a few men in the alley stared, chuckled, and stood from their game of what appeared dice and human currency, Kara met their unsettling gaze with one of her own: her crystal blue eyes coming alive with bright crimson light, wisps of steam following her faint eyeshadow and floating up into the air. The men stopped, and carefully backed away, before she heard their footprints quicken into a dead sprint away from her. By the time she left the alley and rounded to the front of the brick building, her eyes were blue, reflecting the neon light of the sign that hummed in gaseous heat above door. 

Staggers

"You're sure they're in here?"

"Yes, however I do believe infiltrating this Batman's systems would be eas--"

"Everything we know about him says he's more paranoid than Jor-El. Remember how Uncle Jor-El reacted when I hacked Kelek for a practical joke?"

"He spent the next year creating new security fractol expressions in a custom digital language."

"He lost trust in me for almost a year."

"He was also very impressed with you."

Her head shook, her gold hair swaying slightly with the shake of her head, "No dice, Sanc. We find another way."

"If we can't?"

"We'll cross that algorithmic function when we have to, Sanc."  

Kara saw the target before she even entered the door, the lights dim, the music loud, the scent of alcohol and sweat overpowering the much subtler scents of blood and bleach scrubbed into the floor and walls covered with even more of the neon gas filled signs, and pictures of women wearing...less than a Tamaran, and holding cans of beer. Hew-mans. It really is all about sex. Hands tucked neatly into her jacket pockets, Kara walked towards the bar, and the target. 

The dim lights and loud music made it easy for Rose to forget she was on duty. The drink in her hand and the man she had allowed to press her against the bar, doubly so. The straps of her tank top and bra were halfway down her bicep, the lower half the shirt hiked up to her ribs as the man’s hand began to wander until the heel of Rose’s motorcycle boot pushed him off. 

“I don’t fuckin’ think so.” She said playfully before chugging the last of her drink. 

“Don’t be a tease, bitch.” The man replied. “Don’t rev the engine if you’re not going to ride.” He continued as he took a step forward only to be stopped as the steel toed boot collided with his nether regions. 

“That should stop the fuckin’ engine.” Rose replied with a smirk. “Now get the fuck out of my bar!” 

“It’s not your bar!” A voice came from behind the counter, as the man braced himself on the counter and stumbled towards the door. Turning around, Rose slammed her drink down on the bar as she leaned against it, her back arched as she looked around the crowd. 

“Yo, Al, shut the fuck up and get me another. Forget the rocks.” Rose said as she noticed a blonde moving towards her. “You’re definitely not from Gotham, Doll.” She muttered with a low whistle before brushing her hair over to the right side of her head, highlighting the faded cut on the left. Taking a large gulp from her new whiskey, Rose turned towards the blonde and took a few strides in her direction, getting a feel for the music as she began to dance towards the newcomer.

“What brings a girl like you to a city like this?” Rose asked, a coo in her tone as she brushed against Kara.

Kara just ignored the man grumble past her, silently wondering to herself if that’s what desperation smelled like as he passed her. A perfect dirty blonde brow perked higher than the other at the sight of the seemingly intoxicated, and, uh, dancing ‘Batgirl.’ 

The dialogue with Sanctuary went neural: You’re sure this is her?

”I am certain.” 

Not for the first time, Kara was glad to be the only person who could hear Sanctuary’s responses. After a quick tilt, and straightening, of her head Kara even managed to lower her curiosity perched brow, trying, and only half succeeding, to suppress a chuckle. “It wasn’t for the dancing. I need to ask you some questions, Rose.” Rose, the blonde in jeans and leather said, the knowing edge in her voice as sharp as any assassin’s blade.

If this Batgirl spoke between the lines, she’d of known the translation: I know who you are.

There was an unmistakable edge to the blonde woman’s words. Rose knew it well, it was an edge she used almost hourly.

Hell, I just used it.

“Look, Doll, I’m sorry if he was your boyfriend, fiancé or husband, I’m sure he came on to me first.” Rose said dismissively as she dropped the dance and swiped a beer from a nearby table. Holding up a single finger, she downed the beer, letting out a small burp before continuing. 

Rose was aware that this woman wasn’t here because of a cheating bastard, but she didn’t know why she was here. She needed something more to go on. Was it on behalf of her deceased father, did Wintergreen send her, was this something to do with her mother? 

Hell,

It could be something to do with her own actions, the woman had a distinct foreign look to her, she could be in Gotham looking for revenge against the former Ravager. Maybe she was a scorned lover.

“But to make it even, how about you and I go out back and I’ll make your toes curl in ways he’ll never be able to.” Rose continued with an apathetic shrug. “Or, you can turn your high and mighty white ass around and get the fuck out of my bar, Doll. Before you get hurt.”

“It’s not your fuckin’ bar!”

“What’d I tell you Al?” Rose yelled back. “Shut the fuck up!”

In the face of such a display, and at the start of such inevitable chaos, the blonde kept her tight white ass right where it stood. Men in cheap leather jackets, plaid shirts, and thick boots were breaking bottles and grappling with each other already. How pathetic it was that it took so very little to make these hew-mans get violent so very quickly. She might've sneered, but it would've given away what was to come next.

Sanctuary, kill the power to the building for five seconds.

It took the Kryptonian A.I. all of a moment's time, and the lights went out. All Rose, or Al, would've felt in those five seconds was an intense rush of air. All they would've heard was the body of each combatant (seemingly) hitting the floor at the same time, knocked out cold. When the lights went back on, Kara was standing right where she had been when the lights went off. Eyes the color of deep ice unblinking at Wilson. Sanctuary confirming to Kara no serious damage had been done to any of the unconscious men. A relief.

It irritated Kara it had come to violence at all. An irritation that showed in the hard set of her jaw, and the glare of her eyes. "Out back. Now, please."

“Awe, you don’t gotta show off for me, Doll.” The silver haired girl retorted as her and the blonde became the only conscious people in Staggers. 

Fuck, Ish, why’d you have to remove the Kryptonite.

“Y’know,” Rose stated as she walked towards the back door, “I thought you looked familiar when I first saw you. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s pretty clear to me now.” She paused before the door, leaning against the frame. 

“You two have the same jawline.” Rose said with a knowing smile of her own. ”Did you know I tried to kill him once?” She asked with a smile before suddenly pulling a Beretta from behind her back, shooting a nearby fire extinguisher as a thick cloud filled the room. Darting out the door, Rose booked it for her nearby motorcycle. 

She was outgunned and under prepared for a fight against a Kryptonian. Last time she at least had Kryptonite in addition to her abilities, and that still hadn’t stopped Superman from cracking her ribs.

"You tried to kill baby Kal?"

She was more confused than anything, and it echoed in her voice. And then the gun, then the cloud of carbon dioxide. Kara laughed, before running (at normal human speeds) out the back door. Once she hit the back door, and found herself back in the alley, she sped up. She was already on the bike when Wilson made reached it, arms crossed, confusion still written plain across her fine Kryptonian features. 

"If I wanted to hurt you, you'd be hurt. Months ago I saw my planet destroyed. Every friend I had, every member of my family gone in a cataclysm beyond scope--except one. My baby cousin; Kal-El. Our family is..." Her eyes winced like she'd been struck a blow, the pain seeming to shudder through her entire body, leaving blue eyes that were clear before the wince suddenly glassy when they re-opened, "were great scientists. We saw it coming. No one listened, but we got Kal-El and myself off the planet. His vessel reached your planet on schedule. My vessel hit an unmapped wormhole, and delayed me decades."

Kar'a Zor-El couldn't even look up anymore. Reeling in pain, trying not to cry for the thousandth time, all she could manage was a weak tone as she kept her silently crying eyes to the ground. "Please, I just want some answers. Please."

Rose reluctantly stopped as she tucked the handgun into the waistband of her ripped jeans.

“Not like that would have done a fuckin’ thing, anyways.” She muttered looking at the other girl. “Ah hell.” Rose cursed, “Look, I didn’t know your Kal as a baby, he was a man by the time I saw him for the first time.” She answered, choosing her words slowly. 

“He was a man my entire life. Damn good looking too.” Rose smirked slightly as she looked at the disheartened girl before her. “Seems it runs in the family.” 

“I’m not sure how long he was here, my fuckin’ Dad seemed to think it was well over fifty years.” She continued, trying hard not to dwell on thoughts of her own father for longer than she had to. “Your ‘Kal’ could never resist fightin’ a hell of a good cause, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he was part of the fuckin’ second world war.” Rose said with a more genuine smirk.

“But damn honestly, like I said, outside of trying to fuckin’ kill the Superman, I know no more than the average person. What answers could you possibly want from me?”

Her eyes raised until they were square with Wilson’s once more, pain and grief replaced with determination, “You are the Batgirl. I have reason to believe the Batman was a friend of Kal’s. Can you help me talk with the Batman?”

“Never met the man.” Rose half-lied. She had of course met Batman, but it was nearly eleven years ago, when he and Deathstroke had rescued her from the first Ravager. “I may wear his mantle but I have no association or sanction from the man, the name, Batgirl, was given to me by the media.” She said dismissively. “Kind of like the guy in the red and yellow pajamas using your Kal’s name.”

“Last I heard, the Bat was training a bunch of cry babies to protect the city. You want to talk to him, show one ‘em your tits and I’m sure they’ll be grateful enough to get you a meeting.” Rose stated. “Otherwise, there’s always the compensation light on the roof of the GCPD you could turn on. He always comes running for that.” 

That perfectly groomed dirty blonde eyebrow perked in interest once more. For now she ignored the `red and yellow pajamas` reference, focusing on the subject at hand. “Compensation light?...interesting.” With a swing of her hips Kara moved off the motorcycle, and smiled at the, uh, interesting young woman. “Thank you, Rose. I am Kara. Should you come across any further information, or if I can repay the favor...well, I’ll hear you if you call loud enough.”

A quick wave, a quicker few skips, and Kar’a Zor-El was airborne. It wasn’t until she was well into the sky that she went supersonic, and disappeared into the cloudy night sky of Gotham City.

“I had a few thoughts on how you could repay the favour,” Rose muttered as she watched Kara disappear into the sky. With a sign, she straddled the now empty motorcycle and brought it to life. Perhaps it was time for the ‘Batgirl’ to begin her own patrol.

5x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Simple Unicycle

Raw —

Simple Unicycle ?

Member Seen 1 mo ago

Simple Unicycle

1860 posts

in 3305 days

Seen 1 mo ago

Bio

H U B  C I T Y / A M E R I C A
May 19th, 2016 - 1:49 PM | Cain Street - Downtown Hub City

It had been many years since he had been to Hub City, and it had changed so very much. Far less crime (though still its fair share), people not looking constantly miserable, and even a legitimate costumed superhero protecting it. Yes, it had been so long that many people forgot that once there was fear of societal collapse. So long that many people forgot there was pain...

Let alone a Question.

As Victor Sage, once the city's watcher and protector, walked through the streets of the Hub, he noticed these things. They seemed ignorant of the misery that clung to the metropolis and filled their nostrils with its stench only a little under half a decade ago. Fair, they had their share of pain, they deserved a break and a chance to forget; but it was strange that nothing alluded to that pain. Gone was the grim and grimy architecture that was pulled out of an art deco nightmare, replaced by sleek skyscrapers.

But as he walked through a subway, on his way to World Wide Broadcasting to try and get his job back, he saw it. A piece of graffiti that no one else paid any mind to. But it caught his eye and kept his attention for more than a few minutes. Such an abstract piece, and a confusing one if you hadn't lived in Hub not too long ago...

And seeing the piece, it brought him back, back to a time when Hub was wrought with pain and he tried to tackle it head on at ground level. Back to when he misspent his time in his prime prancing around in a silly mask, oblivious to what fate had in store for him... A time he wanted to go back to.

H U B  C I T Y / A M E R I C A
February 23rd, 2008 - 10:02 PM | Back Alleyway - Hell's Corner

"Honey, you keep holdin' out on me, and I'm gonna have to get really nasty..."

Question liked to think that it wasn't every day in Hub City that an attempted rape happened, but that's wishful thinking.

Only about ten feet below him, a rather unsavory looking man was holding a blonde against a wall, one arm keeping her pinned while the other held a knife that was currently pressed against the woman's neck. It was kind of generic and silly, foiling a rape, but it was better than handling another mugging. Those got boring after the first three- imagine having to deal with at least two dozen a week.

But still, he needed a good warmup for the night ahead. Dropping from his perch on the lowest level of a fire escape, the masked vigilante strode forward fearlessly, cracking his knuckles. The would-be rapist looked over his shoulder at the would-be hero, and Question felt almost euphoric upon seeing the fear light up in his eyes. Seeing the hero made the criminal loosen his grip on the blonde's arm, and the girl took the chance to shake off his grip and run.

"Hm. For a second I was thinking, 'you know what, this guy could get a girl if he tried, I don't know why he's doing this', but now that I can see your face up close I realize just how wrong I was," the Question noted, slight smirk hidden behind a faceless facade, "I think a pavement facial might fix it."

The man stood his ground, brandishing his knife around. "C'mon bitch, let's go."

"Whatever you say..." In the blink of an eye, the faceless man rushed the criminal and tackled him to the floor. Climbing on top of the downed man, the Question slammed his fists into his head one, two, three times in a matter of two seconds. "This is why!" A punch that'll leave a nice, shiny black eye. "You don't try to!" A punch that breaks his nose. "Commit a crime!" A punch that breaks his jaw. "In my city!"

With the last punch, Question managed to knock the man out. Standing up, he stared at the blood on his gloved knuckles, before delivering one last punch straight to the man's family jewels. Yeah, he'd be feeling that when he woke up... More like 'if' at this point.

Leaving behind his calling card, a blank white business card with a question mark on it, the Question shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked off into the night.

G O T H A M  C I T Y / A M E R I C A
April 2nd, 2008 - 12:21 AM | Docks - Gotham Bay

Bullets flying past him. Metal pipes narrowly missing their mark. Stopping an attempt to tackle him with sucker punch.

Gotham might not have been as bad as Hub City in terms of crime, but it still had some amusements to be found.

WWB had sent him here, at his request, in order to cover the grand opening of an art museum in the city. When you were one of the station's best money makers, they didn't ask questions when you requested to cover a story. Lucky for him, no one suspected why he really came here: there was a high profile drug deal coming through here, something from Afghanistan that was, supposedly, pretty damn gnarly. If it spread to the States, who knew what damage it could cause.

So, like any moral, upstanding citizen, Vic Sage decided to handle this problem the only way he knew: beating the shit out of the guys trying to import it.

Which was how he found himself here, in a midst of bullets flying and fists swinging. Not too far from him was the Batman, Gotham's own resident vigilante, who had swooped in not long after the fighting started. Vic was amazed at how fast he moved, how effortlessly he dispatched enemies either with a well-placed punch or utilizing a gadget from his seemingly endlessly useful utility belt.

Before long, the fight was finished.

"Thanks for the assist," Question says, approaching the Dark Knight with hands in pockets, "Not that I needed it. Not with this bunch of pussies."

He turned away to drop his calling card, and when he looked back the cowled crusader was gone...

To Be Continued

4x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Tackytaff

Raw —

Tackytaff

Member Seen 3 days ago

Tackytaff

313 posts

in 3102 days

Seen 3 days ago

Bio

Two's a Crowd
CAIRNS / AUSTRALIA:
May 3rd, 2019 - 19:12  | Bed & Bar Hostel

Even for the off-season, the hostel was exceptionally dead.  On a Friday night, the lobby should have been a hub of activity; travelers coming and going, meeting up with new friends for a night out.  Or there should have been people downstairs, broke backpackers spending the last few dollars they always seemed to be able to scrounge up for drinks. But the staircase down was roped off, and Megan, potentially the universe’s last Martian, and Australia’s self-appointed watcher, was spinning in an desk chair.

Not that she was unhappy in her position. Even if Cairns was hot as a solar flare and so humid opening a window was likely to flood a room. The desert was never more than an hour’s fly away, and hospitality work suited her. A city full of tourists was an easy place for Megan to fit in; she was no more eccentric than the hundreds of other strangers that flooded the streets every week. Usually. But business was slow, nearly twenty minutes after her shift had ended and she had more pressing activities for the evening than spinning in a chair. Even if it was a very good chair; very smooth with minimal squeaking in a blessedly air-conditioned room.  She grabbed the desk to halt the movement and refreshed the computer screen. The month's schedule remained stubbornly bare. On a whim she checked the internet. No headlines to worry about in Cairns. That should have been a relief, but nine days had been too long; there had never been more than a week between attacks before.

Maybe It’s just over?

The thought was almost pleasant enough to erase worry from Megan’s mind. After all, how many suicidal vandals could there be in one city? Megan pushed off the desk again, just as the door chimed open.

"Slow night?"

She neatly toppled to the floor in effort to stop herself. Oliver was smiling in the doorway, not in the least annoyed that the his sole working employee was apparently surfing the net and playing with his office equipment.
 
"Sorry- I- Yes." Megan stopped, steadied herself, and continued in a slightly more cohesive manner. "Two early checkouts and four more cancellations."

The smile stayed on Oliver's face, but waves of anxiety rolled off him, abruptly ending whatever small respite Megan had found from her own tension. "Fire makes people scared."

She examined his face closely then, but no. He wasn't even looking at her anymore. The fires had been terrifying, for everyone. Real terrifying, not the quick thrill that drove tourism up like haunted buildings or idle threats. Whether the intention was to hurt anyone or not, fire couldn’t be controlled. Especially not in a downtown city. 

"Rooms are spotless, haven't had to replace a mattress in a full month." Her poor attempt at humor went unnoticed.

"Though you were finished at 7 today?" While grateful for the change in subject, Megan offered no more than a shrug and a shift of gaze away from Oliver. It was response enough for him though. “Jenna.” He concluded.

"It's not really any trouble- I think she had an appointment with..." She floundered for a moment, but quickly gave up and visibly deflated.  She really had to get better at lying. Not a skill she'd be proud of, or want to use, but to have the option would be nice sometimes, at least to keep her friends from getting into trouble.

“No need to defend her, knew ow she was when I hired her. Jenna would be late to her own funeral if it were possible.” He relaxed slightly, his smile slightly more genuine. "But I'm sure you had better plans for a Friday night. I'll cover until she gets here."

Megan was standing before he finished, and out the door before she remembered to thank him.  She managed to catch it before it slammed behind her. "Thanks!” Oliver only lifted a hand in acknowledgement, already sitting in her place, eyes glued to the computer screen.

A small thing like the sun no longer hanging in the sky, or the fact it was nearly winter had no effect on the City's heat: it hit her like a wall the moment she was out of the hostel. Suddenly a night spent sitting idly in an air conditioned office was very appealing. Megan glared at the red haze of the remaining sunset over the western skyline before making her way south.

The intrigue of three charred storefronts had worn off the city quickly. Now people avoided the entire block. They'd been empty when the fire began, and as always the body count had been exactly one.

It takes a whole new level of crazy to burn yourself alive.

It was too easy to slip back into the horrific memory; Megan standing helpless a quarter mile away from the blaze and still somehow choking on the smoke. She shook it from her mind and focused on making herself invisible after a quick glance ensured she was truly alone. The attacks never happened in the same place twice, but Cairns wasn't used the these sorts of attacks, and compensated their inexperience with caution.  There were cops station never more than a few blocks from an attack site for a few weeks after the fact.  The first pair Megan found were parked outside a servo, a radar gun perched on the dash that neither were paying very close attention to. She had no difficulty slipping through the door to sit in the rear seat. She was no detective, had no resources, so she'd discovered listening to police scanners directly the quickest way to receive news on the city. It didn't take long.

“Code: 305 Westbeach Caravan Park. All available unites respond.”

“No…” The man in the passenger seat looked to his partner. “Can’t be right. Hostages? How?” The driver said nothing but pulled into gear. Megan felt sick. Enough so to hesitate, and only the lurch of the car moving reminded her that Westbeach was the other side of town, and the only way she’d get there before it was all over was on her own. She drifted through the vehicle's roof and over most of the city. In no time, red and blue lights dotted the grid of streets. But for once Megan didn’t need to follow them; the Caravan Park was another backpacker crash spot, she knew it well enough.

There was a small crowd outside the gated fence, not media or police, Megan noticed as she lowered; civilians, tourists. At least the place had been evacuated. Sirens were approaching, there wasn't time for recon; Megan knew too well what would happen as soon as the cops showed up. She was determined to get answers this time. She flew over the small crowd and scanned the park for anyone else.  Not to far in there were three figures, a young man with a younger girl kneeling on the ground, and-

No. No way.

Refusing to believe her own eyes, Megan lowered herself to the ground in the image of a police officer; the same  tall and dark man she nearly always used for these situations. She hadn't been wrong, and was struck dumb by the realization. Jenna was staring at her looking rather bored, but expectant, with a gun casually held in her left hand.

Where did she even get a gun? 

"Jenna?" That got her a raised eyebrow at least. Megan tore her attention to look at the hostages.  The young man was staring at the ground, jaw set firm.  The young girl barely looked old enough to be a teenager, she'd been crying. Neither looked hurt. 

Megan let out a breath "Jenna what's going on? What are you doing?" She dropped the officer’s form in favour of her regular human shape as she spoke. The shape her friend would recognize, and immediately realized the flaw in her idea. Whatever hope her presence had originally brought had drained from the two stranger's faces; the girl began to cry.

For her part, Jenna looked only intrigued. "What are you?" The question had been directed more at herself than Megan; who was too busy trying to balance her own emotions with the sudden torrent of terror and fear emanating from the hostages.

"You've got to tell me what's going on, I don’t want anyone to get hurt- I- Shit.” People in Australia weren’t supposed to have guns. The attacks in Cairns didn’t hurt people. Jenna's stare broke for a moment as she looked passed Megan. The sirens had gotten close enough for human ears. 

"Guess I'll see for myself." In one motion, Jenna kicked the back of the young girl; who lurched forward and into Megan's open arms, breaking her fall before she hit pavement. When Megan looked up again, Jenna's face had broken into a smile that made her stomach flip. Jenna never smiled like that. Megan didn't notice she was now pointing the barrel at her own head until it was too late.

"N-" Megan didn't even get to finish the syllable before she doubled over in pain, screaming.

2x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by NecroKnight

Raw —

NecroKnight Elite Death Knight of Decay

Member Seen 16 days ago

NecroKnight

Elite Death Knight of Decay

2168 posts

in 3056 days

Seen 16 days ago

Bio

Coast City:
May 15th, 2019 - 1236 | Downtown - Joe' Gym

Jessica yawned as she kept up her cardio workout in the local downtown gym. The place wasn't all that know or talked about, since it was in a more remote region of downtown. Namely, the usually sordid kind, that was home to the usual mugger, drug-dealer or simply car-stealer - yet that didn't take away the hope, dreams and culture of this place and neighborhood.

Despite it's bad reputation the Downtown Area of Coast City did have it's up and downs - out here, there was several good restaurants and a diner, where one could easily get the best steak dinner for only a couple of bucks. Plus, it was mostly an African-American area, so she wouldn't stick out as much, compared to every else. Namely, she happened to have the rare genetic condition of being a literal walking and talking crocodile - with all the benefits and disadvantages it brought with it. It left her looking rather darker than normal, have eyes that looked menacing and a strength that would leave many bodybuilders and heavyweight lifters green with envy. Although due to such gifts, it was kind of hard for her to fit in any particular region - many thought her too 'different' or too 'creepy'. 

It was a job in itself, trying to hide the fact you had webbed feet and hands, a tail and abnormal eyes - not to mention teeth and claws sharp enough to rip apart steel. Normally a person like that would be shunned and end up like many others of such kind - ostracized, disliked and eventually seeking revenge. Jessy had been luckier, compared to one Gotham gator - she had decent parents, a good head on her shoulders and somebody whom didn't let some bad words get under her skin. She could easily hide her tail, wrapped around her waist and eyes could be fixed with some contact lenses - plus, this place had single-cell washrooms, so she could enjoy herself without being called out of being a freak. Also, her job was something that afforded her an outlet, that didn't judge based on her appearance - but rather on her merit and skills. Speaking of those, as she thought those memories - her phone soon enough went off. 

"Y'ello. Jessica here. How may I assist ya'll?" she asked, with a Cajun accent - although once she got the answer, it made her sigh in reply. So much for her weekend being off, as she stopped the treadmill and replied in acknowledgement. Somebody had stepped onto America' toes again it seemed. Once she had showered and changed clothing - she called a taxi and had it head over to the Westport Naval Yard.

---

Pacific Ocean:
May 15th, 2019 - 2300 | ??? - ???

Jessica was reading over the files, that they had been given to her by the Leviathan Intelligence Officer, while she flew towards her destination on board the old-and-sturdy C-130 - namely, they had Russians poking around in areas, where they normally didn't. Namely extremely close to Japanese territorial waters and namely also United States Navy patrol routes. Such poking around would usually signal a political conflict in the making, although political attempts to uncover more information had been met with extreme denial by Russian officials. Whatever they were digging there seemed valuable to keep hidden from the US and also politically defended as well.

While normally, a regular cruiser or frigate would have been sent over and have their location pinged - some scans a few hours ago had revealed...troubling readings. Namely, something valuable was indeed down there and higher-ups decided that whatever it was needed to be recovered from on board the Russian sub. Blowing them up in this case was a bit impossibility - secondly, the Russians would likely scuttle their vessel - before allowing a single American on board. As such, this mission fell into hands of Task Force Leviathan - whose specialty was cracking open ships like a sardine cans. 

Plus it was here, where she shone best - namely utilizing her abilities to serve her country. Even, abnormal, genetically mutated humans were patriotic. As she made sure that her wet-suit was tightly fitting, gloves on and her tail tucked around her waist - while soon enough, she pulled on her helmet. Total black, one-way glass visor, a heated salt-filter to prevent excess salt from passing through and also a water container. All of which, fit snuggly around her head.

"Coming up on drop point!" yelled the assistant aid - as beyond her, the pilot and the engineer - there wasn't anybody else on board this plane. The less people related to this Task Force, the better it was to prevent information leaks and keep the air of secrecy to them. Thus, the engineer had to also double as a regular soldier and check her suit and helmet - to make sure everything was in order. "Get ready! Three.....two....one. GO!"

When that was said, and the green light was lit - Corporal Jessica 'Lizard' Jester, didn't hesitate and jumped out of the C-130 into the dark sky - namely from an altitude of 1700 ft. Normally such attempts would leave any normal human splat against the ocean - although, Jessica was much different - as she could jump from heights that no other soldier could. Secondly, she didn't require a parachute to break her fall into the water - having her an extra edge when it came to stealthy infiltration. Thus, anybody remotely focused on the C-130 would simply assume it dropped a radar buoy into the water and that was that. Not that they dropped a literal can-opener of any non-American vessels into the Pacific Ocean.

3x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Simple Unicycle

Raw —

Simple Unicycle ?

Member Seen 1 mo ago

Simple Unicycle

1860 posts

in 3305 days

Seen 1 mo ago

Bio

H U B  C I T Y / A M E R I C A
July 6th, 2008 - 2:39 AM | Rooftops | The Wedge

The thing about Hub, the masked vigilante mulled over, was that it was more grounded than Metropolis or Gotham. Nobody pranced around in tights fighting crime, the criminals didn't wear over the top costumes and call themselves silly names like 'Lord Death Man', and those that did were promptly locked up in an insane asylum. Crime was crime at its most visceral, and the closest the city had to a superhero was himself, the Question, who just wore a mask and dressed in civvies.

So imagine Question's surprise upon seeing a man flying through the night, green cape flowing behind him. It made him feel a bit territorial, some meta trying to encroach on his turf. He felt like punching the guy out, though with his luck he had a power that made people turn to dust when they touched him. So instead, Q did what he did best: stalked the guy from the ground as he flew around.

He didn't have to follow long before the man came to a stop on the roof of Hub City First National Bank. Strange for an aspiring superhero to stop at a bank. Even stranger to start picking the lock on the roof access door. Whatever hope the Question had that this was just some rookie trying to follow in his footsteps were thoroughly dashed, and he realized that this guy wasn't an aspiring superhero; he was an aspiring supervillain.

Great, now he had some guy in a goofy get-up to handle. He hoped this wouldn't become some sort of trend. After all, the last thing he needed was a rogues gallery.

Anyhow, back to the present. The man had finished picking the lock to the roof access door, slipping into the building. Question was across the street, and by the time he reached the bank's roof the guy would probably be long gone with the money. So he did the logical thing and headed to the ground, approaching the bank's glass doors.

"Hrm..." Question examined the lock doors, humming slightly to himself. He had forgotten to bring along his lockpicks, so picking the lock was out of the question. What else could he do? Slowly, he scanned his surroundings, looking for something to...

Bingo.

Hefting the potted ficus, he approached the door, throwing the plant into the glass and shattering it. The alarm began to blare as he stepped inside, maneuvering himself deftly to avoid cutting himself on jagged glass. The bank was closed by this time of night, and it wouldn't hard to spot the other guy inside, considering he was wearing a green cape.

... That is, he thought it would be easy to find the guy. Seems he was better at stealth than Question had first thought. He had checked and rechecked every room at least three or four times, and still nothing turned up. Question was about to give up hope, when he heard a cackling behind him.

"Fool," the voice bellowed, "you dare challenge THE BANSHEE!?" Question turned around, and lo and behold, it was the caped guy.

"Look, Mr... Banshee, was it? Let's just cut the foreplay and get down to brass tacks: I punch you, you fall over, I turn you over to the police and maybe say something enigmatic along the way. That sound good?" He really wasn't in the mood for this.

"Nonsense!" the Banshee exclaimed, "Now we must fight to the DEATH!"

"Seriously, I was planning on turning in early tonight, what say we just raincheck this 'fight to the death' thing."

"ONE DOES NOT RAINCHECK THE BANSHEE! EN GARDE!" The Banshee took a fighting stance, slowly approaching the Question.

Question stared for a moment... Before doubling over in laughter.

What could be seen of the Banshee's face from his mask drooped, as if in fear. "... Why... Why are you laughing?"

"Jesus... You're... You're just... Oh my God, seriously? En garde? HAHAHAHAHA!"

"S-stop..." Banshee pleaded.

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

"I... Said..." The caped villain approached the Question, delivering a sucker punch to his faceless visage that sent the detective flying into a copy machine. "STOP."

"What... What the hell?" Wait, this guy dressing up in a silly outfit and snaeking into banks had super strength?

"I shall let you live, worm. But only this once. The next time we meet, shall be the last."

As the Banshee stalked away, Question felt the blood pooling up behind his mask. Closing his eyes, he released a shuddering sigh before falling into unconsciousness...

To Be Continued

5x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by The Angry Goat

Raw —

The Angry Goat (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞

Member Seen 5 yrs ago

The Angry Goat

(☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞

374 posts

in 2705 days

Seen 5 yrs ago

Bio

Bludhaven // USA:
May 15th, 2019 - 3:00 PM // Port Authority Bus Tunnel

Saalima rolled herself into the elevator, bag of groceries on her lap. she fucking hated these damned derelict creaky-ass elevators, but at least they usually stayed running, and actually existed. She couldn't imagine trying to live in Metropolis: despite its glitz, it still had a long way to go on accommodating the marginalized elements of society. The elevator jerked into motion, and her and an elderly man with a walker moved upwards slowly. Saalima took the time to read the graffiti on the walls - mostly old, and the new stuff didn't appear to have any affiliations with any gangs she knew could become active again. They reached the top, and the formerly brown elevator opened up onto the sea of grey that was the bus exchange/blue line elevated terminal. She moved towards the stop for the train, and it rolled to a stop two minutes later. Not many people were on the train, which was nice, because it allowed her to take up the space that she needed to, as she moved her body onto the subway seat and folded her wheelchair, holding it up against the wall. The long ride back underneath The Narrows was uneventful, and she took the second stop off. exiting was always the hard part - she had to already be in her chair and ready to go before the train stopped, which meant bracing for dear life on hand rails if there were enough people around to catch attention. fortunately there wasn't, so she only made a visual of stopping herself for the security cameras, and held her wheels in place mentally. 

When she got back home she'd finish up the website she was making and send that off, stream for a few hours, and then protect the city in her real job as...

Bludhaven // USA:
May 16th, 2019 - 1:00 AM // Green Line Docks

Saalima always felt a little silly floating across The Narrows in a black gown: it would be funny if it wasnt merited. She needed to project an image. The only way that the damned thugs were ever going to learn their lesson was through fear, and the imagery of a motionless ghost popping their arms out of their sockets seemed to do a pretty decent job of scaring them out of the ci - 

she heard something.

a thunk, like someone had dropped something heavy, coming from the abandoned portion of these docks. She floated quickly onto the top of an old wooden roof, checking that it was stable before she landed fully, and listened closely.... yes...voices... whispered chastisement. two buildings down. At least two. She needed to scout out further. As she drifted across cover - quickly darting through gaps, keeping below rooftops, she considered... she had crossed the narrows for the better part of 5 minutes, and got a pretty good look across the docks. she didnt see any boats come in, though it was possible that a small one could have escaped her eye. but the warehouse was a fair distance away from the water, regardless. This was probably an escapade that she could mentally file under "car or other," meaning that they would be more carefully guarding the entrance closer to the roadway. probably. A southward approach seemed best, and as the suspected warehouse came into view, her suspicion was correct. Two guards, both with some sort of semi-automatic weapon by the looks of things. 

This was clearly big. or at least they thought themselves big. Those sorts of guns were not legal in this area. She floated around to the side, trying to get a better view towards the front - they were keeping no one on the sides, and there was a gap in useful cover before she could move further, a collapsed building not safe to use both for the lack of cover and the possibility of making a sound. She kept watch of the situation at this edge for fifteen minutes... thirty...fourty five. No patrols. Interesting. Maybe not actually that big? She considered the possibility of an unseen barrier or alarm of sorts, but decided it was unlikely. She had been the most powerful person in terms of extrahuman abilities in Bludhaven for at least a year now. She'd keep an eye out though. As for now, the rear guards had to go silently. She had had plenty of time to consider the best course of action as she monitored the area, and moved swiftly into action, moving back to the roof of the building across from the two rear guards, landing lightly. She needed to focus. There was a myrad of gravel and other stoney debris littering the area, which made good projectiles. The swarm of pebbles quickly shot at the foreheads of both men, and they were unconscious before they really knew what hit them. She waited 5 minutes - nothing, and then floated over to where they lay. she mentally removed the body armor and shirts of both men, and used them to tie their arms together and gag their mouths. she switched on the safeties to both guns and floated them well away from the two, before smacking them in the head another few times just to make sure. One of the windows on the upper floor of the warehouse was broken, and she elected to enter through there. there was some cover still, and it made a great perch. As she looked around, she realized...

a lot more guns. like. a LOT. Boxes overflowing with ammunition, and a few people looking stereotypically evil, unloading the last of the boxes from a former U-Haul van. Someone was planning on starting something, and she was going to find out exactly what it was...

4x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Lord Wraith

Raw —

Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

Member Seen 1 hr ago

Lord Wraith

Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

8460 posts

in 3965 days

Seen 1 hr ago

Bio

P R E S E N T

Part 1
G O T H A M   C I T Y:
May 15th, 2019 - 23:48 | Alley off of 5th Avenue - Burnside

Cold sweat ran down the man’s face as he grabbed a hold of the nearby lamp post, using the pillar to guide him around a sharp corner as he scrambled into the nearby alley. A purse hung from his hand, his grip white-knuckled around the strap as he continued to run, his lungs burning, feet aching as he body fought against his mind to stop running. Fear and adrenaline were his reflex now as the scalloped shadow from above descended upon the alley. 

A gun was firmly grasped in his other hand as he began to fire shot after shot. Anything that appeared to move or rustle in the pale moonlight was met with a stray bullet haphazardly fired in its direction until no sound remained in the dark alley but the click of an empty magazine.

The silenced washed over the man filling him with a false sense of relief until a voice broke the stillness of the night.

“You’re empty, motherfucker.”

A gunshot rang out as the man’s own weapon fell from his hand. The clatter seemed to echoed as the man cried out in agony, a white hot searing pain penetrated his hand in the same manner as the bullet that caused the injury. Falling to his knees, the man dropped the purse as he clutched his bleeding hand, the warm trickling of the crimson liquid sending sensations of nausea through his stomach while he struggled to remain conscious.  

The shadowed figure descended upon the quickly fading man. The pointed ears and long billowing cape denying an accurate image of the figure’s true shape as she approached the small, a smoking gun in one hand while a second was outstretched towards him. Trembling in fear, the man closed his eyes as the cold muzzle of the outstretched gun was pressed forcefully against his forehead.

”Do you know who the fuck I am?”

“Y-y-you’re the B-Batg-”

“I’m the justice you can’t fuckin’ run from.” The shadowed figure snarled as the gun was suddenly pulled away only for the flash of the muzzle to burn the man’s ear as sound left his world, replaced by a constant ringing.

“Next time I fuckin’ catch you out here, it’s your last!” The so-called ‘Batgirl’ yelled in the man’s remaining good ear before moving the gun to the other side of his head and firing again. 

Suddenly the hole in his hand was the least of his problems as the man doubled over, a hand clutching either side of his head as the contents of his stomach emptied themselves from either end. 

A brush of air moved past his head as the Batgirl ascended to the rooftops of Burnside, the flashes of red and blue reflecting across the nearby store fronts assured her that the gunshots had attracted the proper authorities to the scene. There was no doubt in Rose’s mind that the man wouldn’t steal another purse for as long as he lived. 

Which admittedly if the Batgirl caught him again, wouldn’t be long.

4x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Avanhelsing

Raw —

Avanhelsing

Member Seen 4 yrs ago

Avanhelsing

6071 posts

in 3965 days

Seen 4 yrs ago

San Francisco/ United States of America:
May 15 th, 2019 - 15:32 | Titans Tower - San Francisco Bay

The gulls wheeled and screamed as they danced around San Francisco Bay. The Sun was shining over the beautiful azure water and everything seemed to be perfect in the world. However, at the new Titans Tower things were a bit more chaotic as it was Moving Day for the only current Teen Titan, Liam McNeil. The current bearer of the Seal of Solomon was  used to moving all over the place every other year or so. Ever since he was a child, Liam had been shuffled from place to place all around the world. One minute he would be in Prague and the next minute, Giles would be shuffling him off to Alice Springs, Australia without warning. Every time he had been moved, Liam had been taught some new local magic or something. In Prague, Giles had taught him how to summon demons or in Australia he was taught how to survive in a hostile environment. His whole world had revolved around learning more power instead of being a normal kid. He had never been exactly normal as kids his own age. It was difficult to be normal when you had a ring that could bind and control demons or unruly spirits. he had been taught the rules of magic since before he could walk. His family cared about these rules and still Magic had cost them everything. The Price of Magic had been a painful lesson for a ten year old boy to learn on his birthday. 

Ever since that horrid night, his whole world had been turned upside down. That whole night had been a blur. A fire and screaming into the night. Liam screaming into the Shadows to give him the power he needed to survive this and the Thing in the shadows responding to his request. Liam had survived the fire by some miracle. Before the fire trucks had even arrived, Liam had been spirited away from Gotham city.   His family's butler Giles had made the choice that his young charge was not safe in the city. Someone had it out for family and Giles had decided not let this person or persons get another chance to get his ward. From then on, the two of them traveled the globe always one step ahead of whoever was chasing after them. The life had not exactly been the most normal one but at least that he had not been murdered by a demon or killed by some thug. 

Then, Batman had told him that he was going to be moving to San Francisco because the team needed to be more out in the open. Currently that "team" was more of a solo group but that didn't matter. Liam could handle things on his own but it would be nice to get some backup now and then. He figured talking to Batman was not the best idea so he would stay quiet for now. There were more younger heroes out there and if Batman didn't have time to recruit, then Liam would go on his own recruiting kick for more people. He had a couple ideas for new people if the Batman couldn't. Liam McNeil always had a plan. 

The little walk down memory lane helped Liam as he carried his numerous boxes into his rather Spartan room in the Tower. Since there was no one else here, Liam had his pick of rooms and that meant he wanted to choose one a bit far from the main group of rooms. Most people did not take well to someone else screaming in Aramaic at 2 am in the morning. So he needed to get his room all set up before doing anything else. he was hoping to try out the gym before anything since he did have a lot to prove. He was a magic user with little to no other skills that someone would expect for a super hero or whatever he was. He only hoped he would not prove to be a disappointment  to the people counting on him. As he kept cleaning the room, a single invitation to a Gotham party fell from one of the boxes. Liam had decided to keep the invitation because it represented the time when he shifted from just a kid with magic to something better. As he looked down at the paper, he started to remember what exactly had happened that night. It was as clear in his mind as a picture.

Gotham City / United States of America:
June 23th, 2018 - 19:25 | The Kane Ballroom - Gotham Heights

The tuxedo suit felt like it was starched to the point where it almost could draw blood. The whole outfit felt like it was trying to kill Liam as he tried to walk through the crowd feeling like an outsider and technically he was. One of Gotham's prodigal sons had returned to the city and that caused a bit of a stir among the upper crust. The gossips whispered about him as Liam wanted nothing more than to just disappear back to Tokyo or wherever Giles had decided to take him. 

Giles had been adamant  on Liam returning to Gotham right before  his sixteenth birthday. There was some sort of family tradition involving the bequeathing  of the Seal of Solomon and Liam was then bundled back to the city he had fled from all those years ago. The rumor had been that his entire family had died in that fire. Then out of the blue, Liam materializes as if by magic into the city's elite as if he had never left. Anyone with a suspicious nature would have found that rather odd. 

Liam wandered through Bruce Wayne's Gala clearly looking rather uncomfortable with all of it. He could look at demons with a smile but walking through the Gotham Elite scared him more than anything. The whole thing felt wrong and Liam had his Mask hidden in the tuxedo. he smiled as he walked through crowds smiling to everyone. Something felt wrong but he couldn't place why everything felt so wrong.

4x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Unknown100

Raw —

Unknown100

Member Seen 10 mos ago

Unknown100

555 posts

in 3963 days

Seen 10 mos ago

Gotham, America:
May 15th, 2019 - 2:00 AM,
60 yards beneath street level

                                                

Everything had changed when Kryptonians entered the picture. Their childish heroics only hindered the sickening crime in Gotham. Cancer spread below the streets while they flew above. And only when the righteous threatened the lives of dirty politicians did these co-called Super-people land. They didn’t see that you can’t reason with cancer. Can’t lock it up. It doesn’t stop just because of a few punches. Cancer has to be eliminated by its source.
Or at least that was the sales pitch that had put a serious damper on the family reunion. Behind his stern look, the anticipation shinned through, as Jacob awaited Kate’s response.
Tonight, Kate had just been, well, Kate; the daughter that had so eagerly followed in her father’s footsteps and joined the military. When she quit and joined the war on crime, he supported it without a second’s hesitation. Even provided a suit worthy of her skills. One she later modified in the spirit of the Bat.

“You’re gonna take them all on at the same time?” she asked, standing in her Batwoman suit. The fingers holding her mask started getting a life of their own. Twitching ever so slightly.

“They will take me on when I announce myself. Their dogmatic narrow viewpoints won’t allow for anything else. So, I’ll strike first and with this.” Jacob padded the Kryptonite arsenal at his disposal.  “They are all dead anyway. Once the real danger comes around all those meta-humans and otherworldly beings are going to drop from the sky. You know this.”

Kate lowered her gaze and took a long look at her mask, realizing yet another reason to wear it. “I do,” she nodded. “The people in the sky aren’t enough.” After an uncharacteristic long hesitation, she put on the face of Batwoman once again. “So I’ll be there too.”

The disappointment was clear on Jacob’s otherwise emotionless face. “Stop hiding behind that thing. Bring back my daughter.”

“This is your daughter now.” Batwoman raised her fists, as did her father. For a moment they were twisted images of each other. Same stance, same firm look. Not even a blink.
Meanwhile not a single of Jacob's mercenaries intervened or even reached for their gun.  
The first to strike was Batwoman, firing a left hook at his defending arm and following up with a knee-strike that removed all sense of balance in her opponent.
Jacob stumbled back before getting back his footing and returning to the stance he taught her years ago. “You hesitate to strike down your opponent. I taught you better than that.”

“You got nothing left to teach, father. I succeeded you years ago.”

“Yet, you don’t go for the kill. Merely stand there while your opponent has time to gather himself.” Jacob jumped and came down with all his weight in that one punch.
Batwoman felt its numbing pain against her forearm and moved out of reach of the following combos. A whole series of stable hooks and kicks that kept her on her toes. She blocked a haymaker and delivered two side kicks to her father’s ribs he was sure to feel, before she hit and missed with a hook of her own. While dodging another attack she was surprised how sore her arms felt, how heavy her shoulders, and how deep her breaths had gotten. Already tired, she was like a grunt girl back at military school.
Suddenly her father could take his time retaliating. And retaliate he did: Sent a neckchop and two outstretched palms to either side of her head, removing all sense of hearing for a few seconds, leaving nothing but an unbearable high-pitched ringing.
In a last-ditch effort, Batwoman deliberately dropped her parade and took a jab to the jaw, in order to then grab a hold of that arm subsequently and reel him in. She got in real close, both hands around his wrists. A headbutt should still hurt him more than her anyway. “What did you do to me?” she scorned, using every inch of frustration she had built up from losing.

“Nothing. It’s the suit.”

She grinned her teeth. Anger as much as exhausting. “You… s-sabotaged it?”

At this point it didn’t take much for the man to break loose and bring her down with a well-timed throat-punch. Before she knew it, he tightened his arm around her neck. “Listened to me,” he whispered to the still struggling Batwoman. “It’s important to me that you understand. When I gave you that suit, I didn’t intentionally compromise it in any way. I gave you the very best my people could deliver. A gift from father to daughter. But even the strongest walls have a crack, and I only found this weak spot months later. It’s the liquid shock absorption between the layers of titanium fabric. At the right frequency it hardens, becomes stiff. It restricts your movement, makes you exhaust your great stamina. A regular soldier wouldn’t even be standing at this point.” Jacob reached down and showed the small device that produced the ultrasonic sound.

“Go to hell!” Batwoman felt his warm breath on the back of her head and somehow knew he nodded in approval.

“Even when you oppose me, I could never be prouder. You’re everything a father could want, Kate. It should be you leading my men to a clean tomorrow.”

“… little hard with a malfunctioning suit…, Jacob.”

The fact that she had stopped referring to him as father clearly didn’t go unnoticed, yet he merely answered: “It’s not permanent, or we would have discovered the bug much earlier. That being said, should you oppose us when we resurface, I won’t hesitate to use it again. Turn your second-best weapon into lead and take out my frustration on those at your side: Barbara, Helena, Natalie. Unlike you they seem so soft once they’re in the comfort of their home. I’ll see you around, kid.”

“You better hope you do. Cause if you don’t, your little plan about dropping senators and Supers from the sky, is gonna have an abrupt end.”

All but Jacob had already left.
And as he released her, she didn’t turn around. Merely sat there, gathering her strength.
On every level she gathered it…

2x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by NecroKnight

Raw —

NecroKnight Elite Death Knight of Decay

Member Seen 16 days ago

NecroKnight

Elite Death Knight of Decay

2168 posts

in 3056 days

Seen 16 days ago

Bio

Pacific Ocean:
May 16th, 2019 - 2300 | ??? - ???

Out in the ocean, in the water she felt most alive. While most people disliked the wide ocean, it almost endless horizon, suffocating heat and lack of 'drinkable' water made it a place as worse as the driest desert. But for Jessica, it felt like being at home - out in the Bayou where she used to go swimming when she was younger. It helped that any crocodile that tried to go at her, usually ended up themselves on the dinner table. Her grandparents never asked how or why she did this - they likely were too old to care about such minor details, yet nevertheless they did their best in making her into the woman she was now. In return, she was self-sufficient, independent and made sure her grandparents had the best retirement home, she could find - once they decided to leave the swamp. Although, that would be a long day away - she she was sure grand-pappy would likely go blind and deaf before leaving his home.

But for her now - she had other things to focus on. Namely she had swam a good deal, towards the designated location. Namely letting both the currents carry her and also utilizing her own limbs for the job - compared to other humans, she could achieve a much greater speed in the water. Thanks to her hands and feet and also tail that could be easily used like an extra limb for swimming.

Once at the location, she didn't need to wait long before the pressure wave hit her body. Like somebody had rung a giant bell near her body - namely it was the sign of a sonar going off. A good thing, she utilized a helmet, otherwise that might been very painful on her ears. Not wanting to receive another burst against her face, Lizard swam closer to the location. Soon enough the sight of a Russian submarine came into view, she had to note it was the more older variant. A namely diesel submarine, which while old could be utilized for easy stealth dives. Plus, they were easier to crack open.

Once she was against the hull - she started crawling towards the back of the sub. Namely, soon enough finding her target - namely the rudder of a submarine. She didn't waste, as she soon enough - started bending the inactive rudder with her strength. Alerting to the crew, that something was wrong outside. It didn't take her long, before she could feel the engine starting up - but by that point it was too late, as soon enough. The attempt to start up the rudder and escape, from whatever was outside - ended up with the rudder scraping against the hull and tearing it even more apart. With this chaos happening, she quickly swam to the front of the ship and soon pulled open the lid that kept the outside torpedo lid closed. The suction soon enough bringing her inside, as she used her feet to smash right into the torpedo room.

Immediately warning claxon started blaring across the place - while the ship started lurching in reply, of having a sudden pressure difference affect the vessel. As water started pouring into the vessel - while those whom would be in the room, would have been temporarily dazed due to the sudden shift in pressure. Namely, Jessica quickly made sure to knock them out cold. While the crew of the submarine, soon enough initiated emergency surface procedures. That didn't Lizard, as a like a black blur she smashed through the hatches and doors. In some cases, smashing the door literally off its hinges.

Those crew members that tried stopping her, were easily dealt with. As soon enough, she reached the Captain' Quarters and soon ripped the door in half - catching the Captain mid-way trying to burn something. Jessica could grabbed the Russian and smashed him against the wall, knocking him out. As she quickly grabbed and cut-off the flame before it could spread - managing to recover the document with minimal damage only on the edges. While the safe in the room, soon had it's door also ripped off - as she grabbed all the papers in the safe. Having them wrapped up in a plastic bag and safely stored inside of her suit. In addition, she also grabbed a more shinier object from inside the safe.

Namely a piece of technology, that seemed something out of a sci-fi movie. Although, if one was dealing with sea and advanced technology - she perhaps, had instead uncovered some Atlantean technology. As she also quickly wrapped up the tech in a plastic bag and soon made her way out. By this point, she felt the sub break into the surface and the sound of armed sailors approaching her location. Although, by the time they arrived at her location - they would only uncover an unconscious Captain and a giant hole in his quarters that led further down into the submarine. But by this point, she had managed to reach the engine room again and slipped out the torpedo chute. Leaving the Russian submarine dead in the water, taking in water and likely soon spotted by the US Naval patrol that would catch the stranded Russians strangely in their territorial waters. Although, Jessica didn't wait to be picked up by those. As she kept on swimming. 

Namely, Jessica would keep on swimming even after US ships had entered the area - as she would keep on swimming for the entire day. Checking her watch, namely the locator for altitude and longitude - before she activated her transponder beacon. Before she settled into a nice snooze at the bottom of the sea bed. Although an hour in, she would be awoken by the familiar feeling of a sonar being pinged at her location.

"Jackasses..." she grumbled, after her slumber had been interrupted. Sleeping underwater was a different sensation than in a bed - namely all your senses were numbed, except for your mind. It felt...much different as an experience - yet the sea creatures, usually kept on poking her at those moments.

As such, she soon enough spotted the nuclear submarine, that stood above her. As she pushed up from the seabed and towards it - soon enough, finding her exfil point. Giving a few good knocks into it - as a compartment soon opened inside of the vessel and she entered. As it sealed shut behind and soon enough the feeling of depressurization started to affect her body. It always felt the strangest thing, like you were trying to breathe through a balloon. Nevertheless, after ten minutes - she was soon pulled out of the compartment and back onto her own two feet. Two engineers, whom were tapping behind controls and other gizmos that were way above her technological understanding.

Those people weren't as important, compared to the aged veteran standing in the Depressurization Room. Namely, Admiral Jason Muller Halifax, CO of this submarine and also commander of the United States Naval Special Warfare Command; Anti-Naval and Deep-Water Operations Unit Leviathan. In essence, her boss - as she soon enough removed her helmet.

Despite the difference, in physical capabilities - she was the first to salute him. Namely, since he outranked her by both merit and intelligence. "Admiral! Mission accomplished, Sir!" declared Jessica, as she was soon returned the salute.

"Good work, Corporal. Report," replied Admiral Halifax, returning her salute, before getting down to business.

"Sub disabled, documents recovered," she said, soon enough producing the Russian documents that were safely sealed away inside the plastic bags and handed them over to the Admiral. While also soon enough producing the Atlantean technology and giving it to the Admiral. "This was also recovered and had been stored inside the Captain' quarters of the Russian submarine. Looked valuable and important, Sir."

Halifax, soon enough had his eyes scan over the piece of technology. That was shaped and had the size of a large rubik's cube. Namely, the thing that satellite scans had picked up and likely what the egg-heads in DARPA would be drooling over for several months to come. "Good work, Corporal. Dismissed!" he spoke, soon enough taking a hold of both objects and saluting Jessica back in return. Another successful mission for Task Force Leviathan.

1x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Simple Unicycle

Raw —

Simple Unicycle ?

Member Seen 1 mo ago

Simple Unicycle

1860 posts

in 3305 days

Seen 1 mo ago

Bio

A N  E N I G M A T I C  M I N D
Time Means Nothing not here, XXXX - XX:XX XX | The Inner Workings | You Needn't Know Where

did youreallythinkthatyou couldmake a difference charles victor szasz

you are nothing but a toddler throwing a tantrum lashing out at the world for being what it is

you are not a hero

you are just a psychopath looking to vent his violent tendencies

you cannothelp anyone

you need to wake upcharlie
WAKE UP

H U B  C I T Y / A M E R I C A
July 6th, 2008 - 3:17 AM | Hub City First National Bank | The Wedge

The blaring of police sirens pulled the Question into consciousness.

Slowly, he pulled himself up from the ruins of the copy machine and blinking the blood out of his eyes. From the hallway, he heard footsteps fast approaching. He was in no condition to fight the cops. He had to get the hell out of dodge, as soon as possible.

Half limping, half running, he made his way through the bank, narrowly avoiding police officers as he did so. His vision was turning red, blood dripping from a gash in his forehead into his eyes once more. He would need to take the mask off and bandage the wound, as soon as possible.

Before long, he was opening the roof access door. He'd need to make a leap of faith to the next building. Looking down at his bad leg, the vigilante took in a deep breath, readying himself for a quick sprint.

"On your marks," Question said, a wry smirk hidden behind his mask.

He ran.

He lept.

His gloved fingers grabbed onto the ledge, and he pulled himself up. Relief flooding through him, he laid down on the roof for a well deserved rest.

Between rushed breaths, he released relieved chuckles. "I should go for the world record for the long jump..."

H U B  C I T Y / A M E R I C A
July 6th, 2008 - 5:04 AM | Arisotle Rodor's Home | Downtown

"You're an idiot, Charlie."

Those were the first words out of Tot's mouth when Vic entered his home, and he had been repeating them every other minute for the last half hour.

"That's the sixteenth time you've said that today," Vic replied, wincing slightly as Tot finished stitching up the wound in his forehead.

"And I will continue to say it until the day I die," Tot replied, heading over to his kitchen sink to wash the blood off his hands. "You could have been killed."

"Maybe I could've. At least it would've been in the line of duty."

"You need to forget about this 'Banshee' fellow, Charlie. The police can handle him."

"Tot, you saw what he did with just one punch," Vic pointed at the stitching on this forehead. "They can't handle a meta. But I can."

Tot released a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"No," Vic said, throwing on his overcoat and hat as he approached the door. Pulling down the brim of his hat, he continued, "I'm gonna catch a supervillain reject."

H U B  C I T Y / A M E R I C A
July 13th, 2008 - 10:46 PM | Happy Harry's | Hell's Corner

It had been a week. Question wanted to go after the Banshee, but figured that by the time he went to any of his targets the villain would be long gone. Instead, he waited, and watched, letting the Banshee make himself known to the people of Hub City. He waited until he was sure the Banshee had, at the very least, made some connections in the underworld.

And then he struck.

Happy Harry's was a dive bar in the least desirable part of an already undesirable city. Every time the Question walked in, he was hit by the stench of alcohol and cigarettes, of broken dreams and wasted potential. It made him sick, but it was the best place to get information when he needed it.

As he walked into the bar, everything went silent.

The bartender, Harry, stared at the faceless man with wide eyes and a fearful expression on his face.

"Hey Harry. How's it hanging?"

"Er, uh, hey Question," Harry replied, yanking on his collar and putting on a forced grin. "What a surprise for you to drop by... It's always... A..." Harry couldn't help it anymore. He pleaded to the vigilante, "Please man, don't hurt anybody, they don't know anything..."

"I just need information, Harry." Question turned to the patrons, announcing, "The Banshee. I'm looking for him. If anyone knows anything, tell me."

His request was met with silence.

"... Nothing, huh? Alright. You." Question pointed at a man, whose eyes widened in fear at the vigilante's gesture.

"M-me?"

"Yeah, you." Question approached the man, grabbing his hand. "Let's play a game. For every wrong answer, I break a finger."

To demonstrate, he grabbed the man's pinkie finger, bending it backwards. With a sickening CRA-CRACK! the finger broke. The man cried in agony, struggling to free his hand from the Question's grasp.

"I've broken this man's pinkie finger. Where can I find the Banshee?"

Silence.

CRACK!

"His ring finger.Where can I find the Banshee?"

"Jesus man, stop, we don't know anyth-"

CRACK!

"Middle finger. That's half the fingers of his left hand. Where can I find the Banshee?"

"F-fuck! Just somebody, anybody, tell him what you know!"

"Alright, just... Shit... Just stop hurting the guy." A patron approached the Question, who dropped the man's hand. "Look, I've been working with him for the last couple of days, selling all the goods he gets from his jobs. We meet at this warehouse of his, by the docks. Far as I can tell, that's his base."

"Hrm. Thanks for the assistance." With those words, the Question left the bar with a determined stride.

'I'm gonna find that son of a bitch, and when I do, he'll be sorry he crossed me...'

To Be Concluded

4x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by WXer

Raw —

coGM

WXer オラ・オラ・オラ！

Member Seen 2 days ago

WXer

オラ・オラ・オラ！

247 posts

in 2744 days

Seen 2 days ago

Gotham City / United States of America:
June 23th, 2018 - 19:30 | The Kane Ballroom - Gotham Heights

Only a few individuals stood out in the sea of people gathered at the event which was quite the achievement considering everyone hailing from Gotham's upper echelon had shown up. This evening's party was a televised Wayne foundation event after all and at the center of everyone's attention was the only living member of Gotham's first family: Bruce Wayne. The man was still quite the physical specimen but his age was showing as his hair had mostly grayed. As the host of the party, he started making rounds across the tables to meet and greet the various politicians and socialites present but he was eager to meet one individual in particular. After all, it's not every day you get to meet someone back from the dead. 

"Master McNeil! It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Bruce would state as he walked towards young Liam's table. "I'm glad that a Gotham cornerstone could attend tonight's festivities. Your family were forerunners in the city's development and if you ever ne-" Before Bruce could finish his sentence, his flip phone had gone off. He began to answer his phone while gesturing towards Liam to excuse him. His face started to go sour as the call progressed and as the conversation ended, a scowl had began to etch itself across his face. At the top of his lungs, Bruce would yell with a stern tone that was unbecoming of him.

"Everyone, evacuate immediately!" he would be able to state before the power went out. Panic started to set in and screams could be heard before they were silenced abruptly. The silence crept swiftly and its grips were now on Bruce's throat. Almost on cue, emergency lights turned back on which allowed the security detail to take aim at the perpetrator. With Commissioner Gordon among the invitees, he would take charge in the situation as his own gun was trained on the villain. 

"Don't even think about making a move... Batman?!" Indeed, the Dark Knight had Bruce Wayne hostage with a chokehold and a Batarang aimed to stab his neck.

3x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Archmage MC

Raw —

Archmage MC

Member Seen 5 hrs ago

Archmage MC

4564 posts

in 3793 days

Seen 5 hrs ago

Metropolis/USA:
May 15th, 2019 - 14:23 | Justice League HQ - Monitor Room

Willow wasn't the most thrilled robot in the world to be on Monitor duty for the day. Sure, she could browse the internet with her own internal wifi while viewing the monitor screens, but she preferred to be out in the field. The only downside of being in an organization that let her do all the heroics, occasionally she had to do the busywork. Well, occasionally was a strong word. If she had to use a word, she'd say fairly frequently. That would be including general repairs and the like to that list, which unlike monitor duty, were fun in their own little way, especially since Willow was really good at that.

Things were mostly quiet for the time she had been on the monitors. The day shift always seemed quieter than the night one, maybe thats why she never had that shift? Or it could be since she didn't need sleep and they needed more heroes then? Either way, there was usually more action at night, and soon she'd be able to go look for some when she swapped with someone else in a few hours. But for the meantime, she directed a leaguer here or there when needed, all while going down a youtube related videos rabbit hole. 

Metropolis/USA:
May 15th, 2019 - 21:43 | Downtown 

When Willow was finally released from Monitor Duty, she made her way to Downtown Metropolis on a patrol. Unlike most robots on earth, (one of them being a fellow league member that Willow still wasn't sure if she liked or not) Willow was made of Nanites. This made patrolling fairly easy, or at least thats what she thought. She figured her cloud form made her very stealthy, especially at night. And playing the 'predator' with villains was fairly fun. It was always so much fun using something out of a video she had seen prior to spook them into capture. Speaking of which...

Willow, flying between the skyscrapers in her nanite cloud form, spotted what looked like some kind of shady dealings down below. At least she figured as much, considering it was in an alleyway and both parties seemed to look paranoid as they traded something. Considering the circomstances, Willow could make a guess what was going on, but she needed proof before she could just assault a guy. With this in mind, she descended from the sky after the buyer had left. Being nothing more than a cloud, she wafted her way past the seller to see what he had on him, the guy not noticing the sudden fog that was now rummaging through his trenchcoat. And there it was, drugs, and not the soft stuff. Willow figured this sort of thing happened more in Gotham, but Metropolis wasn't a shining example of a city either. 

Having what she needed, she materialized behind the guy who was probably waiting for another buyer. When fully materialized, Willow shifted her form to one with lots of tentacles, and a cartoonish looking skeleton mask with no nose. One would call it cute, all things considered, if Willow wasn't making it look like it was in mid hiss. Using one of her tentacles, she tapped the guy on the back. As the guy turned around, he saw Willows little prank form, and wasn't too sure of what to make of it until she started to move towards the guy, tentacles flailing. This got his attention in the form of a firearm. Which was a standard affair, Willow confronted a baddie they pulled out a gun. And when they found it didn't work, much like this guy was realizing, they started to run. But they didn't get far, Usually because tentacles were fairly grabby things.

Having had her fun, she pulled the guy close to her face, using another tentacle to disarm him and whispered. "So, who is your supplier? I want a word with him. Cooperate and I'll let you go." Sure she wasn't going to spook him anymore than she did, Willow had to commit to the bit she had started. But Batman's tactics of fear and intimidation did get results quite fast, and the guy spilled what he knew. Only a name, Caesar, but Willow didn't expect all that much. But a name was all she needed, investigating it while she waited for the next big mission sounded fun. Grabbing a few nearby garbage can lids and a metal object out of the nearby dumpster with her other tentacles, Willow turned the objects into bindings, and bound the man before letting him go. And much like she appeared, Willow dissolved back into her cloud form to leave, making sure to let the police know where they could find their little present with all his little packages.

Reforming back to her normal form on a rooftop, Willow laughed a bit to herself. "Ok, that was pretty fun. Could've been way scarier, but a creepypasta looking thing was good enough. Probably should go find this Caesar guy at some point though" Having collected her thoughts, Willow turned into a cloud once again and flew off, thinking of the next thing she could do to a crook. The best thing about the internet, there were an endless amount of ideas to mimic. She was ready for bigger action should it come her way.

Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Ruby

Raw —

Ruby No One Cares

Member Seen 8 days ago

Ruby

No One Cares

4285 posts

in 3965 days

Seen 8 days ago

Bio

G O T H A M
 May 15th, 2019 - Midnight | A cave. 

It was absolute darkness. It was cold. It smelled so utterly bizarre. She couldn't touch the ground--or any surface for that matter at all. Kara could see in darkness. Sanctuary had projected it, but the vast difference between "projection" and reality was astonishing. She woke up one day, and she was never cold at her core. She could move to speeds that left Kara the scientist salivating at the prospect of experiments that could be done at such speeds. It took four days for Kara to realize how far beyond her endurance was. A primitive combustion Earth wheeled ground vehicle hit her backing up in a busy and overcrowded and ill-conceived parking lot that was at least a hundred meters. The "pick-up" truck might as well had backed up into a Kryptonian warhull with the way it went careening off her at an exit angle she could best describe as awkward and heading into the sky at a mild 15 degree angle.
The most breathtaking thing about it all?

I CAN FLY?!

Jor-El had told her about it all. Sorta. Really he spent a solid Earth sized "hour" oscillating between lecturing her and quizzing her on his checklist for Sanctuary, the A.I. and the craft that they had designed. When you knew the world was going to end, you spent more time with those that mattered most. The last years were very close for House El. She knew he enjoyed their time together. He shared how very happy he was that Kal-El and she could escape and be a guiding light to another planet he believed would face Krypton's plight unless they slowly changed trajectory. Kal and she were that variable to alter that trajectory.

Sanctuary was running the numbers on Earth. Whether they should stay and continue what Kal-El did or to find a new home elsewhere. The complex system of underground caverns were extensive, but they weren't all natural. Bats weren't the best diggers, if her memory of Earth biology was holding strong, and she knew it was. It wasn't even that bats don't dig--they physically don't have the ability. It made her laugh, when she realized what a real "Bat-Man" might look like. Every light in the sky seemed to light up at the same time as the cave "activated." 

By that point she was hovering into the main chamber of the complex, a place filled with what Kara had to presume to be trinkets of a career. There was--for reasons Kara couldn't even begin to imagine--a giant piece of bronze coinage. Sadly before she could get much more in, rumbled down on a concrete platform in front of her. He was dressed in a battlesuit. She was dressed in bluejeans she had gotten from Smallville, Kansas, and fit her like a Kryptonian bodysuit. Her belt black leather, it's silver buckle the sigil of House El. The super "s" they called it. Popularized by her cousin. Apparently Kara could walk around anywhere and no one would ever know she was an actual Kryptonian, neverminding the droves of the humans wearing them had no clue what it was. More importantly where it had come from and how it had come to be. 

She felt shielded in the black leather back jacket. It was helpful at high speeds, with it's silver zipper and buckles. Underneath peaked a silver sequin blouse that dazzled in the intensive light. Considering Kara could ignore the visible light spectrum, she didn't really mind the lights. Or the powered battlesuit. What was powering it, though, she hmm'd quickly to herself. What made it give such a cutting electric buzz when it spoke to her so deeply, and angrily. 

"You broke in."

A single index finger went into the air about chest high. "Yeah, but you let me." 

"How did you know?"

"My A.I. told me before something blocked her. You probably don't even know how you blocked it."

"But with you here and the A.I. gone I can finally get a full scan on you."

The finger went down, and a golden brown eyebrow arched up. "If you would only have asked I would've let you."

"I didn't know about you until your meeting with a certain vigilante."

"Batg--"

"--that is not her name, and not her right."

Kara shrugged. The name, the rights to a name, the unworthiness and what subjective standard this man used to determine one from the other didn't really interest her. It wasn't what brought her, and so she smiled right past it. Real bright and big. "Interesting subject for another person, but not really relevant to why I'm here. You see...", in a breath the smile was swept away, her bright blue eyes suddenly the size of saucers, "...your heart rate just spiked."

"You're not just Kryptonian. You're a first cousin of Superman."

She snorted, seeing his spike in heartrate was the results of his scan. "Kal-El. He was name was Kal-El."

There was never any change in tone from the man in armor. He was flat, almost like a machine. "His name was Clark. If you had been here, you would know that." 

"His name was Kal-El, and I'm sorry if he ever forgot that. I was supposed to protect him, to guide him. Instead my craft hit a wormhole we just didn't see, if it was there at all during the planning to see..." A slow tucking of blonde hair back behind her ear was followed by a moment of silence, and misery. Her eyes snapped back up to the man's helmet. "We were supposed to see this planet onto a path that would keep from ever repeating Krypton's mistakes. I picked this planet with my family. We picked YOUR planet, human. Kal-El ending up the way the stories say is a comfort, but stories and songs are far half as truth as they are untruth. For the truth I need a direct source. For the truth I need someone that knew him. Someone that was a friend, maybe, even, if either of you had such a thing."

Like I'm currently without.

"See it for yourself. Head to the map coordinates on the screen." He said it and coordinates appeared on the screen behind him. "And get out. The next time I won't let you."

From the coordinates to the Batman in half a heartbeat her long black lashes flicked as her eyes blinked, and a sad weak little chuckle followed, "I hope Kal-El had more people around him when he died. I hope he wasn't quite so alone, and so angry."

Kara Zor-El flew out, never once looking back.

2x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Tackytaff

Raw —

Tackytaff

Member Seen 3 days ago

Tackytaff

313 posts

in 3102 days

Seen 3 days ago

Bio

Two's a Crowd
MELBOURNE / AUSTRALIA:
May 6th, 2019 - 09:43  | Commonwealth Bank

"Right, just to be clear, you don't have your bankcard or any ID on you and you want me to withdraw all the funds from this account." 

"Yes." The man, Stephen by his nametag, just continued to stare at her as Megan offered up her best everything-is-fine smile. 

This isn't going to work.

For a second the smile faltered, but the customer service representative was looking back to his computer. "Look, I can cancel the card but that's all I can do for you." 

Megan sighed and pretended to fumble in her pocket for something before raising her hand to the counter. "Would this help?"

Stephen looked from her empty hand to her face, consternation clearly written in his expression.  "Did I not make myself clear when I said any piece of photo ID?" Megan didn't respond, she was too focused on keeping the illusion in the man's mind as he reached for the license that didn't exist.

And you claim to never use telepathy.

It was getting easier to distinguish the stranger's voice from her own thoughts; if only because she was never so constantly negative. Besides it wasn't telepathy, not really. She wasn't forcing him to give her money, or stealing it. Just expediting things. She wasn't greedy or evil, just hungry.

"Here is your money Miss. Morse, have a good one." The man was already looking past Megan to the next customer, clearly eager to be rid of her.

"Thanks" She took the 300 and odd dollars from the counter, and all but fled out the door. It had seemed more than enough money to get by a week before. When she'd had a place to live, a job, and solitude. Now she doubted it would last more than a week.

--

Fifteen minutes later Megan was sitting in a Macca's polishing off a milkshake after finishing a meal that should have fed two.  Something about flying across the country and picking up a second consciousness in two days worked up an appetite.

You'll have to start listening to me eventually.

"Suppose it would be too convenient for you to listen to my own thoughts." Talking to herself didn't really go with her usual M-O of trying to blend in, but usually there weren't voices with vital information giving their opinion ever twenty seconds.

You get the body, I get the subconscious. Just say the word and we can switch.

That was so obviously a bad idea Megan ignored it, returning to the milkshake. It wasn't like The Other needed much prompting to speak. There wasn't much else for her -or him- to do, and she was the only company they got. She'd have pitied whoever it was, if they hadn't killed a dozen people. Including Jenna.

Go to Metropolis.

"You know just because you keep saying that doesn't mean I'm going to do it." Not only did taking the anonymous, murdering brain parasite where it wanted to go seem to side on the list of super-terrible ideas, but Megan was very reluctant to return to America for reasons entirely her own. Especially with what was happening in the country she was already in. "Besides, I saw you get the gun in Melbourne. Someone sold it to you. Now you can tell me exactly where the guy is so we can move on, or just watch as I pick this entire place apart." 

Before she'd put the block up, they'd been much more connected. Too connected really. Having a second set of memories simply begin to appear from nowhere was not a pleasant experience, but she'd managed to stop the process before The Other had gotten the chance to see too deep into her past. In turn she never actually learned who it was that had cozied up in her thoughts. But she'd seen enough to know Jenna had died long before a bullet ran through her head, that they had taken and killed at least a dozen other people, and in one of those stolen lives, passed through Melbourne and found an arms dealer. In Australia. The idea never got any less ludicrous. 

24 Kelling, Block C, Appartment 17. Not far from the harbor.

"Huh."The answer came so quickly it left Megan stunned for a moment."Well, thanks."

Of course, the sooner you die the sooner I get out of here.

She slammed the remains of her meal in the bin. Well. At least they knew where they stood with each-other.

1x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by The Angry Goat

Raw —

The Angry Goat (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞

Member Seen 5 yrs ago

The Angry Goat

(☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞

374 posts

in 2705 days

Seen 5 yrs ago

Bio

Bludhaven // USA:
May 16th, 2019 - 1:55 AM // Green Line Docks// Meet the Fiddler 

Four. she could count four for certain. Three armed, and one with... a violin? And dressed in garish green and white costume. Ghost had to consciously restrain herself from groaning at the sight of it. She had thought herself free of these idiotic men who dressed in costume to commit their crimes - but then she dressed in costume to stop it. Crazy attracts crazy, she supposed. Regardless, she assumed that this fiddle was important to whatever his theme was. He was the obvious tough fight, then. But first, listening. People give away many secrets for free to the wallflowers....

It was mostly logistical. some whens, some wheres, and the general plan came together - they were setting up to attack a concert. The open air one in Melville park tomorrow evening. She wrinkled her nose. She was thinking about going to that - go out more, they say...what could go wrong, they say. This couldn't be right. This couldn't be all of it. This was way more than they needed for an attack on a relatively unprotected event. And why attack it - the fiddle probably played into it..... .   .    .     .

There must be something bigger going on. Whoever else was in on this wouldn't show themselves if she stopped the attack on the park, though... unless she got lucky and they didn't figure out. It was childish to assume that though. She squinted in thought, reaching under her mask to rub at the skin between her nostrils with a knuckle - an old tick. Her best course of action was of course still to stop these criminals in their tracks, but she would need a long term plan. Later. Right now, to the problem at hand. well, the problem in their hands, anyway, she joked to herself as she landed gently on her perch, and the first gunman collapsed as she pulled and pushed along his arm, fracturing the bone in multiple locations. The two other gunmen looked around frantically, calling for backup as another gunman fell, his own gun pounding his face into the ground. The two guards from out front rushed in, and suddenly found themselves tripping on bullets as Ghost pulled ammunition out of a box and into their way. 

"whatever's causing this is clearly in here somewhere you imbeciles - try shooting upwards!" the green clad man demanded of his remaining guards. Ghost smiled - look at the cute little idiots, finally figuring it out. She probably had about five seconds to smash the third gunman's head into the concrete floor a few times - then breaking his trigger fingers just to be sure - before she'd have to move. She was out the window by the time the salvo of gunfire came from the two remaining guards, recovering from their autumn adventure. 

She chucked to herself. She wasn't sure if the fall/autumn wordplay was awful or brilliant. Maybe she'd try it on someone. She looped around to the front entrance, making her grand entrance behind the last two gunmen, switching their safeties on. there was but a moment of audible clicking when they expected shooting before both were bombarded with ammunition, pebbles, and other debries as they both fell. All the while, her final opponent was tuning his instrument. 

"Ah, I was wondering when we'd meet... Ghost, they call you? I was hoping to perform for you later, but I'm sure that you'll enjoy my little solo..." he said as he started up a tune that sounded a little something like this, knocking Ghost back hard with a blast of sonic energy. She slammed into a wall and grunted in pain. She was unfocused, but could still push him back. The Fiddler too was knocked back into a wall, but recovered quickly. the sound of sirens was approaching, and he grimaced. "Looks like we made enough of a commotion for them to notice. addio!" he said, letting off a discordant shriek of a sound from his violin that blew ghost back again. She shuddered, attempted to rise, and then fell, the light fading to black.

2x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Tackytaff

Raw —

Tackytaff

Member Seen 3 days ago

Tackytaff

313 posts

in 3102 days

Seen 3 days ago

Bio

Two's a Crowd
MELBOURNE / AUSTRALIA:
May 6th, 2019 - 18:43  | 24 Kelling, Block C, Appartment 17

Organized crime wasn't really Megan's specialty. She wasn't a real hero, without and resources or training her only asset came from brute force; which was enough, for street skirmishes or robberies. Taking a more proactive approach was completely new to her. So it shouldn't have been so surprising when she timidly rapped on the apartment door. The internal voice that both was and wasn't hers immediately groaned.

The noise of movement inside only served to highlight her mistake.  A window was definitely opening, albeit with some difficulty, judging by the cursing. Megan phased through the door, wearing her usual officer's shape. Three men in the room. One at the window, a second armed but stunned by her sudden appearance, and the third in the process of arming himself; bent over a duffel bag on the counter. Assault rifles, not the simple handgun she'd seen in Cairns. 

She went for the most obvious target first, an elbow to the neck had the second man dropping the gun before he had the chance to fully recover. It was never as easy as movies made it look; Megan had tried the single punch knock-out technique before, with little to no success. Her method of neutralization was bit more crude, if effective.  She kneed the man in the ribs, and winced as they cracked.

You're not using your weight.

"What?"

The man doubled over, and Megan helped him to the ground by way of a shove; which resulted in another snap as his arm bent at an angle that shouldn't really have been possible. But he stayed down, screaming, but no longer threatening. 

You keep all your weight on your rear leg. I can feel it. Are you scared of falling over? Because that's not going to help you if-

On cue a blast went off and a shot of pain hit Megan's left thigh. The bullet didn't pierce the skin, but the force of it set her reeling, sure enough her leg crumpled and she toppled backwards. Suddenly all those four letter word's she'd heard Jenna use so frequently seemed very appropriate. Fortunately the shot had distracted the criminals as much as herself.

"You fucking idiot, now someones going to call the cops."

"Police are already here."

"Are you- Does that look like a god-damn cop to you?" They two that weren't currently writhing on the floor took a long moment to stare at Megan as she stood, tentatively testing the leg. It was fine of course, but she'd never been shot before. Definitely something to avoid in the future.

Officer or not, the trigger happy man decided a second bullet would surely accomplish what the first one had not, and raised his weapon again. But Megan was faster. In a heartbeat she was at him and pulling the gun free from his hands. They were both surprised when the weapon was suddenly in Megan's possession and not his.  He reached out, as though to retrieve it, just as she lifted the rear end of the gun and brought it down.  She'd aimed for his head, but it was for the best she struck wide, as a third crack signaled a broken collarbone. Megan cringed as the man screamed.

"Sorry! Sorry, I really didn't want to-"

A movement to her left took Megan's attention, and she turned to see the final man just as he slipped out the window.

You are unreasonably terrible at this.

Megan wasn't sure crippling strangers was something she ever wanted to be good at.  But she opted to follow the fleeing man rather than argue. He didn't get far; Megan hadn't needed to climb through a window. She barreled into him, so he fell face first into the pavement. The other men's screams could still be head quite clearly form where they were. The man was speaking into the pavement. Megan rolled him over to reveal a broken nose. She had to be setting some sort of record with this.

"You were kind of- Could you repeat that?"

He blinked at her. There were other voices too, a small crowd was gathered outside the building to see what the commotion was about. Some were calling the police, others were filming, but no one approached.

"The fuck do you want?"

"The guns! That is, I don't really- Could you just tell me where they are?" There was a lot of fear and panic in the air.  Megan couldn't be sure exactly how much was coming just from herself.  She had just seriously injured two people and really didn't want to make it three. "Please." She added.  

"Fuck you."

Megan frowned. That wasn't right. He was supposed to tell her where the guns were, then she would take him into the police and everything would be nicely wrapped up.  A pair of arms grabbed her shoulders, trying to pull her off the man.  Stuck in thought she didn't resist, until a fist came barreling towards her face.

She had just enough time to make herself immaterial before it landed.  Instead it passed right through her, and the thrower staggered forwards.  Megan looked at the scene around her.  It didn't look good, and sirens weren't too far off.

Now would be a good time to leave.

But she wasn't finished.  The apartment was too small for a real base, and it would take more than three people to get serious weapons into Australia.  She knelt next to the man again, who was staring at her in abject horror. A phone was poking out of his front pocket. It would have to be enough, she certainly wasn't going to do anymore damage.  She snatched the device just as hands began to reach for her again. She was more aware the second time, and disappeared completely to a chorus of shouting.

1x Like

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by MysteryBroom

Raw —

MysteryBroom Local Geek

Member Seen 4 yrs ago

MysteryBroom

Local Geek

24 posts

in 2522 days

Seen 4 yrs ago

C O A S T  C I T Y /// U N I T E D  S T A T E S:
May 5, 2019 - 2000 hours | Giovanni's -Docks Area




The rain dropped ever so slightly on the pavements of Coast City. They were expecting a slight drizzle, but now it seems that there is a downpour on its way. When it rains, it pours; that is the case for tonight’s shady characters. 
Just around the pier area, there is a place that pier workers frequent in the dead of the night. A pub by the name of “Giovanni’s.” Throughout its existence, it has always maintained a certain repertoire with the folks coming from the sea and CCPD. As they say, birds of a feather, flock together. All those years of illegal importing, smuggling, human trafficking, and gun running have all been deeply rooted in the docks. Up front, it is the lifeblood of the city’s commerce and trade. But behind the curtains lie dark secrets that politicians and crime lords have agreed to maintain. Of course, time to time rumors start leaking to the media about corruption running deep in the piers but how can the city shut down its number one source of business tax? They can’t, they can only hope to slow down the bleeding.
Until now, Giovanni’s place has become a hub of sea faring criminals. Whether they smuggle in or out, it doesn’t matter. Without someone to fix the jobs for you it would be a slow death. That is why Giovanni exists; it’s like an illegal job fair full of people who should’ve been behind bar years ago. 



The rain keeps pouring down. Earlier it was meek, now it’s like pouring down a barrage of bullets straight down into the city. From the streets, you can hear nothing but the symphony of a storm letting loose. Concrete and asphalt filled with water, patter with every droplet that adds to its collective. Light posts struggle to let their shine break through the walls of downpour in their way. The result is a beautiful, diluted light that paints the night with a touch of yellow or white. 
The streets are lonely now; everyone has gone home to avoid the weather. But one figure in particular, is putting extra hours to keep the city safe. Staying far above ground to watch as the night goes by and his prey slowly fall into his trap.

" C’mon… where are you now? You’re gonna be late.”

 Manta thinks to himself as he looks at the parking lot in front of Giovanni’s; spacious, it wasn’t like ordinary pubs that only had the curb to serve as parking. Giovanni’s place is special because of many things, one of them is that parking lot full of exotic cars and stolen vehicles that makes policemen stake out all night. It’s rare you ever see the place not filled with such antics. From the building opposite to the pub, an apartment complex, everything looks so clear albeit for the rain blocking out important details. One of details is crucial: license plates. He's been staking out this joint for hours now, staying hidden in that rooftop either ducking down or using his camouflage.

“That’s got to be you… no doubt, that van screams trouble.”

 A black van drives up from the rain, just a few yards off the main road. It’s headlights look like a dim ball of light pacing through the weather. It finally finds its way to the parking lot entrance with its tires struggling to find traction in the soaking wet asphalt. It was very incognito: black paint and black tint, in these conditions it was difficult to see. Luckily for Manta he has those special night vision visors in his helmet to help him see. 
“I see you. Black van. Lisence  plate: 6ZSJ266, Cali state. They must’ve swapped out the engine as well. Only one way to find out.”
As the van pulls up to its spot, two men exit out the front seats. The rain started pouring on their denim overalls and started pulling out a couple of rain coats from the back seats. 

Manta pulls out his long-range sound antenna to eavesdrop on their conversation. Pointing the antenna at their general direction, static comes out into his helmet. He turns a few knobs around his antenna gun to adjust the sound and voila! Voices, not so clear, but it just needed a bit more adjusting. 

“buzz… buzz… Did… did you see if anyone was following us?” 
“Yeah, of course I did.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I am. There’s no way anybody can see our ride  at a time like this.”
“That’s not the point dumbass… we’re driving into Gio’s with a stolen van.” 
“Pfft, you’re worrying too much.”
“Hmph, you two ought to be worrying.” Manta zooms into the scene but their baseball caps is hiding the impressions on their face. Even the night vision has a hard time sneaking a peek at the angle Manta is working with.

“Sun tattoo, left hand… which one of you has it?” Zooming even further, Manta looks of the only clue he has on knowing who is who.

“Hey, relax man. If you start acting spooked now, the boss might think you’re a soft pussy and pull us out of the job. Or worse.”
“Oh yeah? Last week, Lawrence got jumped on his way to the hideout. I don’t want that shit happening to us.”
“Chill, alright dude? You’re gonna make me look embarrassed in there. I got half a mil' riding on this job. Besides, we’re packing.” 

The two proceed to take out a small firearm from the back of the van. A revolver for one of them and a sawed-off shotgun for the other. 
Manta uses this opportunity to find that tattoo, it’s his only lead. He zooms in quickly to their hands and finds a faint impression of a sun on the hand of the man on the right side of the van. 

“Bingo. So you must be Kendrick ‘The Pinch’ Antone. And the other guy must be your accomplice: Gordon Hays. What are you up to, Kendrick?” 

Kendrick and Gordon make their way into the pub, their boots splashing water across the puddles between them.
The neon lights ahead of the two. ‘Welcome To Giovanni’s,’ ‘Beer & Spirits,” “No Pets Allowed,” were their only source of light as they moved closer to the entrance. 

The door swings open and the two drenched criminals squeak their way into the crowded bar. Filled with hard rock music, the smell of nicotine and a lot of booze.  A lot of scruffy faces. Faces that have seen either the wrong end of a jail cell or years of sea travel, no in between.
“Hey, Trey! Two Glenfiddichs, straight! One for me and the kid.” Kendricks exclaimed to the bartender. Before making their way to the counter, they dry themselves up and set aside their coats along with the other dripping garments. As they fix themselves they close the doors behind them and Manta loses sight of his quarry. 

“Time to get a better view.” 

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by clanjos

Raw —

clanjos Giant Hero

Member Seen 0-24 hrs ago

clanjos

Giant Hero

798 posts

in 3957 days

Seen 0-24 hrs ago

U R,   S U M E R:
The 12th day of the Month of the Ox, 1750BCE - Time: Third Watch of the Day | The Shop of Ea-Nasir

Booster Gold! The self-proclaimed hero of the 25th century! The golden goof! known to the public- adoring and otherwise- as the laughingstock of the Justice League. But there is a secret, kept from all but his closest friend! For Booster Gold spends much of his time traveling through history. But he wasn't there yet. Instead, a man in a strange green suit with a clock for a head stood in a stone building in the bustling coastal metropolis of Ur, and even at the time one of humanity's oldest settlements! He laughed maniacally, gesticulating wildly at a bored-looking merchant with black, curly hair. A collection of crude copper ingots sat on the table before him, glinting in the light as he finally spoke.

"COWER, PRIMITIVE! I, PERCIVAL SUTTER, HAVE MASTERED TIME ITSELF! SOON, ALL OF HISTORY WILL BE ENGRAVED WITH THE NAME OF... DOCTOR TYME!"

The merchant let out a huff as he tapped his fingers, leaning on a hand and raising an eyebrow. 

"[I'm standing right here. Can I help you?]"

Doctor Tyme, however, put a gloved hand in the merchant's face. He held out the other, seemingly expecting some form of payment.

“FOR YOU SEE, GREASY UNWASHED MAN, I COME FROM FOUR THOUSAND YEARS HENCE! I COME OFFERING THE SECRETS OF THE FUTURE FOR THE TREASURES OF THE PAST! PAY ME FOR THE SECRETS YOU DESIRE!”

The merchant sighed, rolling his eyes. It was THIS song and dance again.

"[So what, Nanni's sending clowns to get his money back? Look, I got paid to go to the gulf and buy the ingots, and I did. This money is rightfully mine. If he doesn't take them, he can blow it out his ass.]"

"FOR I KNOW THE SECRETS BY WHICH HORSELESS CARRIAGES MOVE! I KNOW THE FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE THAT CREATES BASEBALL! I KNOW WHY THE DINOSAURS DIED, AND WHY THE BREAD ALWAYS LANDS BUTTERED-SIDE DOWN!"

"[Yeah, I can't understand a word you're saying. Your accent is ridiculous.]"

It was then that outside, in an alleyway littered with the garbage of ages past, a golden glow appeared, slowly forming into the shape of a man. One making fingerguns straight ahead.

"Be not afraid, oh dudes most ancient! It's just me, Booster Gold, hero of the 25th Century! No need for applause or worship, unless you're really set on it."

"Um... sir? There's nobody here."

"..." Crestfallen, Booster turned to his floating robot companion and began shadowboxing. "Right, probably for the best, no sense blowing civilization's collective mind with my awesomeness THIS early! So, what's the deal? Chronovore preventing the birth of Christianity? Someone gave a pharaoh a lasergun? Or-"

Booster then saw the giant clock-shaped portal in front of the shop and stared, facepalming. Children were throwing rocks at it curiously, and a dog was sniffing around it. Yeah, this was pretty much Thursday.

"Doctor Tyme's gotten drunk and he's yelling at people again, isn't he."

"Third time's the charm, sir."

Booster sighed and moved aside the beads covering the shop entrance, loosening up his shoulder as Doctor Tyme continued ranting and raving.

"Hey party people! Hope you don't mind if old Booster joins in!"

"[AND THEN THERE'S THIS ASSHOLE!]" the merchant shouted, thrusting his arms at Booster Gold as the drunken supervillain turned and struck a shaky pose. "[At least get the green one out of my store!]"

"BEHOLD, BOOSTER GOLD! FOR YOUR ARCHENEMY HAS DISCOVERED THE MEANS TO TRAVEL THROUGH TIME!"

"The Zeitwaffen rebuilt the nazi time machine?!"

"What? No, it's- I'm Doctor Tyme! We've matched wits dozens of times!"

Booster sighed and rubbed his neck. This talk was always awkward.

"Yeah, I mean, I know that but... "Archenemy" is a bit strong. Usually you're not much of a threat. Fighting you feels... kiiinda like beating up kids on the playground."

"Not much of a threat!? I've ripped the timeline asunder! I have given knowledge of future events to A FILTHY PRIMITIVE! I have used my Time-Tearer to alter the course of history!"

"I mean... yeah, but you're screaming English at a Mesopotamian." Booster had a quick thought, turning to the merchant, speaking up in the local tongue. "[Hey, do you sell apples?]"

"[Ugh, FINALLY someone speaks some sense! But no, sorry, they're out of season.]"

"[Shame, I had this great idea for a joke.] Anyway, Doc, what are you even doing here? You know the court says you're not supposed to time travel when you're drunk."

"I, Doctor Tyme, have been performing a perfectly legal service! I have begun a service... AS A TIME-TAXI!"

"..." Booster looked over to his robot companion and shrugged, walking out of the store and into the street. "I don't believe you. I mean, what kind of clients would even shell out for that?"

Dr. Tyme followed, obviously exasperated and trying to get Booster's attention.

"Hey! Plenty of people!"

"Oh? Name three."

"People like... like Death Man!"

"What, that crazy Yoga guy in the skeleton costume? Pfft, he's barely a supervillain! He's just a jumped-up yakuza."

"And... and... The Mad Mod!"

"Dude, he's just a fashion designer with delusions of grandeur. What, did he ask you to send him to a Miss Universe pageant? Who's the third, Funhaus? Victor Fries? Mr. Polka-Dot?"

"I'll show you, Booster Gold! I'LL SHOW YOU!"

Doctor Tyme charged Booster, going for a hefty right hook. However, Booster stepped out of the drunk's way and threw him back through his own time portal, dusting off his hands with a grin. He pushed them in and began closing the gaping window, much to the astonishment of children present, who he gave a smile and thumbs up to. After darting back into the alley, Booster began programming a very large timejump into his suit with an excited grin.

"Well, you heard him, Skeets! Time's in peril, and there's just one thing to do!"

"Assemble the Linear Men, sir?"

"Wrong! ROAD TRIP!"

1x Like

↑ Top

BBCode Cheatsheet