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J U S T I C E L E A G U E
L E G A C Y
L E G A C Y
A Cave in the Dark, Two weeks ago
Interacting with: Everyone
The damp, close, darkness had been all devouring. It had been all encompassing. It had been all concealing. Most importantly of all, it had been safe. The thick blackness had hidden the creature from prying eyes, the cloying, stale air had deterred even the most determined of human adventurer's from delving into those depths, and the unthinkably heavy mass of rock and dirt over it's head had helped shield it from those above. The creature in the shadows had hated this cave, this stifling cavern that had seemed to bend all it's ethereal, timeless power towards breaking it's spirit, but it had needed this place, needed to be cautious. But it didn't need to be so cautious any more, not now that the Martian was gone.
Not since the Justice League had disappeared.
The dweller in the dark had first detected the rumblings of the League's disappearance almost two weeks before. During it's sojourn on earth it had managed to create and maintain tendrils of it's own psychic power, using those tendrils to monitor the thoughts of the weak willed human populace, all while managing to keep it's own presence hidden from that Martian menace. It had first registered the League's disappearance as nothing more than a curiosity that piqued the interest of the humans, a mystery they were sure that would soon resolve itself. However the longer they went without any news on their heroes the more worried they became, until the unspoken fear that they were now alone and unprotected was eating them up inside, consuming them one by one. After all, how many times had their race stood upon the precipe of ruin, only for the Justice League to pull them back at the last moment?
Without the League, without their protectors, what was humanity save a gaggle of frightened monkeys, ripe for the slaughter. What was their planet, except a misused ball of resources, ready for the exploiting by a more advanced, civilized, educated race. As soon as the powers of the universe at large realized that the humans stood alone they would stumble over one another to be the first to lay claim to the blue planet. The dweller in the dark had to make certain that it's master was the first to arrive.
The creature sent it's psionic message out towards the the stars. . . .
. . . And in the deepest regions of uncharted space, in the inky blackness between the stars, something answered.
The Watchtower, orbiting Earth, Now
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Watchtower!”
A tall young man stands in front of a group of eclectically dressed strangers and gestures expansively to their surroundings. They currently find themselves in a large domed room, ceiling mounted lights giving off a bright yet soft lighting. A grand circular, silver table sits upon a raised dais in the center of the room, the letters 'JL' emblazoned across it's surface. There are eight empty chairs, but no one has seated themselves thus far. One side of the paneled walls are bare, and seem to be constructed from a white thermoplastic, it's surface perfect and shining. The sliding door the group entered the room by lies somewhere along that wall, but the portal is closed now and the seam for the opening seems to be non-existent. While one half of the wall is as unassuming as one you'd expect to find in a dentist's office, the other's grandeur more than makes up for it.
Large bay windows open up upon a view only a handful of people have ever had the luck to gaze at. The dark fastness of space swirls upon the other side of that glass, it's eternity pressing down eternally mere feet away. Speckled like glitter upon a dark curtain lies the stars, beads of light twinkling merrily, painted out in stark relief. Light years away they might be, but out here they seem close enough to touch. In the foreground lies the real jewel of the piece however. Magnificent hues of blue, white, and green swirl together to form a vision that most only get to see in photographs. The earth spins serene and peaceful, as close to perfect as it's ever likely to get.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" The young man who earlier welcomed the group to this hall is now gazing out the windows. He stands with one hand thrust into his leather jacket pocket, the other pressed up against the glass, leaning as casually as if he was in a bar.
"First time I seen it, it took my breath away. Words just failed me and all I could do was to stand and stare for what felt like a year, drinking in as much of the detail as I could. It's only afterwards did I realize that I did it all through my own tears. Couldn't figure out why I was crying at first, until I realized the tears were for in case I never got the opportunity to enjoy the view again." The man falls silent for a moment, running a hand through his long, slicked back hair, before returning his attention to the assembled group.
"See at the time I thought it was too good to be true, to be up here. To be with the League. To be standing in space, looking out a window and see the earth roll out in front of me. That just didn't happen to guys like me, a boy from Happy Harbour without a plan or a prayer. Heck, I didn't even have a college diploma. Part of me was scared, waiting for the other boot to drop, for someone to yank the opportunity away from me. Now though, I'm scared for different reasons. The League's gone, and without them that beautiful ball out there is in more peril than it's ever been in it's looong history. There's creatures out there that don't think all that highly of humanity or our place in the universe, creatures with the power to snuff us out like that." He snapped his fingers to cement his point, the resounding crack reverberating around the room.
The speakers long, sharp features eased into a grin after that, though it was one that didn't quite crease the corners of his eyes.
"But then, I suppose that's why you're all here. To stop the creatures like that. To make sure people like me will always get their opportunity to enjoy the things like this that mean so much to us."
"My names Lucas Carr. My friends call me Snapper. I'm here to induct you into this replacement Justice League." Snapper steps towards the table, waving towards the center with a flick of his wrist. The lights around the room dim, while a 3d hologram of the JL monogram springs into life above it's surface. He noticeably doesn't take a seat, and while waving the rest of the group closer in he doesn't offer them one either.
"So you might all know me from that book I wrote, about my early days with the League." The book in question was a tell-all memoir released several months ago to commemorate the Leagues fifth anniversary. It detailed Snapper's early adventures with the League, when he had functioned as an honorary eighth member to the group. A snappy writing style, witty dialogue, and deep respect for the League itself helped rocket the book to the position of number one bestseller across the globe. "If not, then it doesn't matter. We've got plenty of time to get to know each other, this next while. All you need to know right now is that because of my time with the League proper, I was trusted with the 'Legacy' protocols."
"Legacy was the League's safeguard, their last defense, that weapon in the arsenal that they hoped never to have to use. See, Legacy is a contingency they put in place in case of their own disappearance. They all knew that they had powerful enemies, and that there might come a day that they failed to overcome the odds. If that ever became the case they had to know that humanity was being left in good hands. To that end the Big Seven all sat down and put together a list of names. It took them two whole days to finish that list, because only the best and the brightest made the cut, those heroes that the Justice League felt they could trust with the fate of the planet."
"Well I guess congratulations are in order, because you all made the cut."
Snapper gives the group a moment for all that to sink in before pressing on.
"Now I know some of you might have been up here before, but for the sake of those you haven't I'm gonna take you all on the grand tour before getting down to business. It's not just the League that's gone missing lately. The last two weeks has seen over two dozen super-humans, both heroes and villains alike, going AWOL, and I want to get to the bottom of it. Heck, Steel was supposed to be here today, and he hasn't even called in, which isn't like--"
Snapper is cut off by the blaring of klaxons sounding from concealed points around the room, while the dimmed lights taking on an ominous red tint to accompany the cacophony.
"Oh crap. . .", Snapper muttered under his breath, eyes widening in surprise. The alarm obviously wasn't planned. "Ok, here we go, you can do this Snapper." He began waving at the table again, but this time nothing happened. With a curse he tried again, then again, and again. Each time nothing happened, with Snapper becoming more and more anxious upon each failure, his repeated swearing growing louder and louder, his hands whipping wildly until finally, either by design or, more likely, by accident, he managed to silence the alarms, opening up two more 3D screens.
"Oh damn, when it rains it pours. Seems we have two situations. One in Tokyo, the other in Metropolis." Snapper pointed at the first screen, a visual rendition of Tokyo's famous Shibuya Crossing. At that moment in Tokyo it was still daylight, so the many artificial lights, billboards and viewing screens weren't having the same effect that they usually did, but it was still a sight to see. Or at least it would have been, if it didn't look like a war-zone. People were running screaming, pushing and barging each other, no heed given to one-another's safety, all in an effort to get away from something, but what that something was the group of heroes couldn't be sure.
On the second screen an image of Stryker's Island Penitentiary jumped alive. The image wasn't as clear nor as close as those of Tokyo, image scramblers kept active on the Styrker grounds at all times as a security measure against criminals who may have access to satellites ever getting too close a look at the institute. Still, chaotic movement can just be made out, tiny figures moving around in what looked like an actual battle this time.
"Ok, so from what I can tell here one of Tokyo's busiest thoroughfares has been attacked, but by who or by what I can't tell. Reports are sketchy at best, though some early reports seem to point at a large humanoid creature carrying an axe and a horde of 'zombies'. Not my words, by the way. Meanwhile in Metropolis there's been a breakout attempt at Strykers. . . Or, scratch that, a break in attempt! Sounds strange, but that's what I'm getting. Prison guards are trying to hold back the intruders, while evacuating any and all non-essential personnel, but the prisoners inside are seeing this as their chance at freedom, and began to rattle their cages. Pressed hard already, the prison staff wasn't able to hold on both fronts. Thankfully it's only the general population and lower security prisoners that got out, but it's only a matter of time before a heavy hitter like Metallo or Parasite get's loose, then we're all in trouble."
"You'll need to split into two teams, one to Tokyo and the other to Metropolis. I ain't you're boss, so I'm not going to tell you what to do here. You're all better qualified for that than I am. Decide who's going where, then hurry up and get to the teleporters! I'll monitor the situation from here, and keep both teams appraised of the other's situations. If you need to contact me, or each other, you all have you're in-ear communicators I gave you when you arrived here."
Snapper returned his attentions to the 3d screens, waving absently towards the exit.
"Well, go on guys. Go be the Justice League!"
"If you can. . . "
Tokyo, Shibuya Crossing
The team dispatched to Tokyo were teleported directly into the center crossing of the square.
Screams rent the air as panicked civilians stampeded in thick herds, all in different directions, down whichever street they thought would give the most safety, charging into each other in a chaotic jumble, people being trampled underfoot. In this state they where as much danger to one another as whatever it is that's put such fear into them.
Over the heads of the crowd a seven foot tall, blue skinned humanoid could be glimpsed.
Built like a linebacker, while dressed like a viking raider, he wore a black, horned helm which left only his burning red eyes showing, while a pink, fleshy, five pronged star adorned his darkened breast plate. In one hand he carried a grossly oversized battle-axe, as big as the beast himself with a wickedly sharp edge, in the other hand he held a fist sized object that looks similar to the star he wore upon his chest.
As the heroes watched a civilian near the back of the escaping mob, grey haired and with a substantial gut, stumbled and fell. The axe-wielder was on the civilian in a heartbeat, the big creature's speed astounding to behold. The fallen civilian screamed in terror, but was cut off sharply as the axe-wielder clamped the hand holding the starfish over the grey-hairs face. In a moment the star had wraped it's prongs around the old man's face. With a roar of triumph the helmed beast beat his mighty chest, and at each thump another stafish, like the one he placed upon the civilians face, birthed itself from the larger star upon his breast. The beast picked one of these smaller starfish up before continuing on after further victims.
Behind the creature the old man shot back to his feet, his movements quick and smooth, oddly mechanical and wholly unnerving. The star was still latched upon his face, and instead of trying to rip it off the grey-hair bent down to pick up another of the stars that the axe-wielder had left upon the ground. With that in hand the old man rushed the crowd of panicked civilians he had once been a part of, and began to attempt to force this new starfish upon a crying child's face. In the distance, down the street that the axewielder had come, hundreds more people with similar starfish clamped across their faces could be spotted, rushing after those people still without stars.
Strykers Island, Metropolis
The team sent to Strykers materialized in a similarly chaotic environment. They arrived in the middle of the sandy exercise yard, surrounded on all sides by a running melee between guards and the inmates from the general population. The guards, though better armed with stun batons, shields, tasers and all manner of riot suppression gear, were outnumbered ten to one. It's only upon closer inspection did the team of heroes realize that half of the assailants throwing themselves at the guards weren't inmates, and seemed to be civilians with starfish fixed to their faces, similar to those plaguing Tokyo.
Mixed in with the guards is several of the lower profile villains from Superman's rogues gallery. Lower profile, maybe but still veteran super-villains none the less. To the far end of the yard, ignoring the battle raging around him and attempting to clamber over the walls to freedom, was the metal man, Shrapnel.
Elsewhere the mercenary Robert DuBois, better known as Bloodsport, had managed to get a hold of a riot shotgun and was using it to deadly effect.
In the air above a figure in a red and white outfit soared. A golden aura of shimmering energy surrounded him, and the insignia of a burning comet adorned his chest, giving away his identity as Captain Comet, the man born ten thousand years before his time.. lucky too as his face is covered by a purple-pink starfish.
Comet paid no attention to the chaos below him though, instead fixating upon the main body of the prison, the maximum security wing. With a gesture the closest wall of the wing crumbled under the immense power of Comet's telekinesis, bricks and mortar coming apart like wet paper.
As the dust from the collapse began to clear another figure floated slowly into the sky. He wore the standard issue orange jumpsuit for a prison inmate, though his shock of purple hair gave away his identity as ably as a name tag would.
Manchester Black stretched his arms extravagantly, groaning in pleasure.
"Must be getting off for good behavior." He snarks, a thick Mancunian accent steamrolling over the sentence. The telekinetic glanced down at the battle raging on the ground, a grin cracking across his features.
"Well, well, well. And here I was thinking Christmas was in December. Time to show ol'Supe--", The purple haired criminal is cut off mid-sentance as Captain Comet clamped a strong hand across Manchester's mouth. The Brit mumbled in protest, while the red garbed 'hero' used his free hand to try and force a starfish over Manchester's face. The Brit only just managed to stop his assailant, bending his telekinetic powers to hold Comet's hand in place. But Comet has telekinetic powers of his own, and in the intervening titanic struggle he slowly began to force the starfish closer and closer to Black's face. . .