Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by Dblade26
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Dblade26

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H U B C I T Y, I L L I N O I S



Ah, the private workspace of Theodore Stephen Kord! A place where miracles of science were born every day, the cradle of innovation that drove forward one of the world's foremost technology companies with cutting edge inventions that brought the future to the common man! Here Ted Kord, one of the brightest minds of his generation, worked tirelessly to solve the many problems facing mankind while building fantastic, wondrous and reliable gadgetry for the masses-
-**"OMNAMNARM!"**


When he wasn't using it as a space to eat junk food while he worked without being judged. But then, was it really his fault that Big Belly Burger was both addicting and a perfectly portable food for science-on-the-go? This way, he could eat his lunch, brain-storm with a full stomach and occasionally break out into spontaneous dance if he needed to work off the extra calories all without Tracey or the boys in Applied Sciences staring at him.

That was what he was doing now in fact, his feet tapping to some music to keep a rhythm going as he alternated between bites of a Big BBQ Burger and minor adjustments to the internal circuitry of his multi-setting sidearm, The B.B. Gun. Between his legitimate scientific and business work for the company, his secondary career as the Blue Beetle and his life outside of that, he needed to multitask just to keep up with everything. Besides, his natural ambidexterity meant he was more than capable of operating a multi-tool with one hand and scarfing down fries with the other. Even if he did need something done that would need two hands and no burger grease, he had plenty of help for that. Speaking of which-

Hey Ted, would you hand me that miniaturized multi-setting spectrometer?"

As he asked, a shimmering hologram manifested across the room from him in the form of his own grinning self and picked up the tool off of a wall filled with many others before walking back over and handing it to the inventor. The entirety of KORD Inc's headquarters was equipped with hard-light hologram projectors of his own design with an extremely humanlike AI that aided in everything from giving tours to building defense to helping with lab work. The fact that they were programmed with a fairly accurate summation of his own genius mind was just an added bonus.

"Sure thing Ted, and may I just say you're looking particularly handsome today?"

"Right back at ya Ted-ster!"

As Ted checked the flash intensity of his B.B. gun, the doorway slid open behind the tinkerer and his slightly translucent duplicate to reveal a third Ted- Or would it be considered a second Holo-Ted?- running into the lab from the experimental vehicle hangar, his arms waving excitedly.

"Hey Teds! Progress alert! Ted, Ted and Ted just got the new version of our KORD-Electric Solar Cells up and running! We're at 90% power efficiency and we- I mean you oh great Bossman Ted Prime- were right that the prototype should work great in the new version of The Bug!"

Ted grinned and wiped his hands down on a paper napkin, then gave his shimmering simulcra a big thumbs up!

"Great work guys! Let's give ourselves a pat on the back for our in-TED-ible work today!"

In unison, each of the Teds reached over and patted one another on the back, literally.

"BWAH-HAHAHA!~"
""BWAH-HAHAHA!~"
"BWAH-HAHAHA!~"


Ah, sometimes, he made himself laugh. But the joking around and junk food and casual super-science was interrupted by an alarm blaring out and cutting through Ted's music. The Holo-Teds snapped to attention as they reported the cause.

"We're detecting a massive influx of tachyons signatures and a growing chronoton field right here in this very laboratory room! You've got an incoming time-traveler, bossman! Should we prepare to go mano-a-machine-o with Chronos the Time Thief again!?"

Ted held up a hand, noticing a familiar shimmering golden figure coalescing in the center of the room.

"Nah guys, it's fine. It's just our buddy Booster."
"Booster? I love that guy!" "He still owes me twenty bucks!"


Ted reached over and tapped a device on his wrist with a finger, dismissing the holograms in the room with him since keeping them active would be distracting. He glanced forlornly over at the Big Belly Burger bag on his work table. Well, if it was for Booster's sake, he could hand over the second burger within if it came down to it. For now, best to see what this was all about and hope he hadn't just dropped by for lunch-

-Or maybe that he had. With Booster it was hard to tell whether the emergencies or the social calls were more fun.

Ted spoke up to the glowing outline of Booster as it finished manifesting.

"Booster! Whatsup buddy? Normally present you could just walk in, you have a key after all."
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Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by Lord Wraith
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Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

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P A S T


G O T H A M C I T Y:

June 23rd, 2018 - 18:27 | Archie Goodwin International Airport - Outskirts of Gotham

Gotham had a certain smell.

Rose knew it as soon as she had stepped off the aircraft. The familiar air, laden with the smell of corroded metal oozing out of ancient steam pipes that gave the city a sense of life, allowing the streets beneath her feet to freely breathe. They exhaled, a painful hiss echoing through the tight alleyways as a new cloud of steam rose to meet the cold night air. Gotham’s seemingly perpetual fog hung low over the city as Rose collected her luggage from the private charter and departed Archie Goodwin International.

The decision to come back to Gotham had been a somewhat inspired one, but not one easily made. For years Rose had been haunted by this city, the cost of living here at been too high as a child. But after all the lives she had seen broken by the lack of a parent, more specifically a mother, Rose had returned to the city that had cost her the life of her own mother.

The Batman was growing old, Rose wasn’t dumb. While she might not have been the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’ even she could piece together that the Bat was only human. Her father had told her such. And if Batman wasn’t able to protect Gotham, then someone would need to.

For some reason, that idea called to her.

Her father had long suspected the true identity of the Bat, in his last days he had divulged his suspicions to Rose. It was rather underwhelming and all together predictable but Rose had to find out for herself.

If Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

Slade had safe-houses around the globe. Rose couldn’t blame him, an international assassin wanted in nearly every country, she would do the same in the her father’s shoes. He had after all taught her to, and Gotham, was no exception to the rule as Rose had discovered. Located only blocks from where she had lived with her mother, Slade had used the safehouse to keep an eye on his daughter and while the assassin rarely found himself in Gotham due to the presence of the big, bad, Bat, Wintergreen had lived here for several years.

His cologne still lingered in the air, Rose noted as the door creaked open. The dimly lit hallway shone into the penthouse apartment, illuminating a sliver of the rather spartan interior. Neither Wintergreen nor her father had ever desired comfort. Just a cot to sleep when necessary and a place to store spare munitions and weapons.

Speaking of weapons.

Rose opened the closet, a low whistle escaping her pursed lips as she picked up the closest rifle to her. Despite the years, the weapons were in pristine condition, if anything it confirmed Rose’s suspicions that Wintergreen was still out there somewhere, operating on his own.

Brushing her silver hair back, Rose removed her eye patch as she pulled her cellphone from the back pocket of her ripped jeans. Googling Bruce Wayne brought up more results than Rose would have ever cared to browse. Billionaire playboys were hardly exciting to Rose, men who dressed up as giant bats, that at least made her want to uncross her legs.

Ever the fashionably late, Wayne had arrived to the gala with the same gimmicks as he always had. Supermodels on either arm, with a supermodel on their spare arm. It was utterly predictable, rehearsed even and it was the primary reason why Rose had chosen to indulge Slade’s hunch.

Stripping out of her civilian clothes, Rose pulled the chainlink mail over her chest, before strapping on the kevlar pants and holstering her weapons. Climbing out of the window, no doubt designed by Slade and Wintergreen for this exact purpose, Rose took off across the rooftops towards Gotham Heights.

Using the combined efforts of her metahuman abilities and energized bo-staff, Rose vaulted from rooftop to car roof, to rooftop again across the city before arriving outside the Kane Ballroom. Laying down on the flat, gravel rooftop of the adjacent building, Rose pulled her carbine rifle from her back, placing the telescopic scope against her good eye as she observed the gala’s attendants.

It was then everything got interesting.

Within seconds of locating Bruce Wayne, the building lost power and as the emergency lights came on, none other than Gotham’s Dark Knight had the billionaire playboy at his mercy. Rose felt a lurch in her stomach as the two men she had come to prove were the same were suddenly in the same room. Deathstroke was rarely wrong, even more so when it came to reading a person.

“So let’s fuckin’ see if you are the Bat.” Rose muttered to herself as she moved the barrel of the gun, the shot aligned perfectly for the Batman’s shoulder as she pulled the trigger.
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Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by WXer
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WXer オラ・オラ・オラ!

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Gotham City / United States of America:

June 23th, 2018 - 19:40 | The Kane Ballroom - Gotham Heights


It felt as if time had frozen. Two of the city's foremost denizens had found themselves in the crosshairs of the GCPD. Both of them contributors to the ongoing rebirth of Gotham. One of them was respected by his peers but the other loved by all. However, as most suspected, it was only a matter of time before the Batman targeted the face of city's elite as Bruce Wayne symbolized the spotted past of Gotham. With a swift slight of the hand, the caped crusader could have changed the landscape of city's social climate.

But an unexpected shot from a rooftop marksman was simply swifter. That one moment that broke the silence also gave Bruce a chance to escape as Batman's grip had loosened. Slipping underneath the hold, Bruce's cold demeanor inexplicably turned to fright as he gained distance from the Dark Knight. Almost as if a switch had turned on, the billionaire ran out screaming as the police started open firing on the partycrasher. Others started to follow their party host's lead and ran out the emergency exits, causing more chaos.

"Enough!" yelled Commissioner Jim Gordon after a few seconds of concentrated fire. Through the smoke and darkness, only one thing was still clear. Batman was still standing. The silhouette of his shattered shoulder slowly solidified as if it had never been fired upon. Before the policemen could process what they had just witnessed, a primal roar came from the maw of the Batman. Fear had gripped the hearts of the lot, and their bullets fired back at them including one whizzing towards the rooftop where Rose had fired from. Shrapnel soon left men and women dead or badly injured.

Then the Batman rushed the commissioner with his Batarang in hand, prompting Jim to fire but with no avail.
Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by Simple Unicycle
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Simple Unicycle ?

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H U B C I T Y / A M E R I C A

July 13th, 2008 - 11:24 PM | Outside the Banshee's Warehouse | Warehouse District

The Banshee's warehouse was far too subtle for such a bombastic villain. Peeling silver paint on steel walls, a wooden roof that desperately needed to be retiled, and two large steel doors that were currently cracked open just a little. It blended in well, far too well, and for a moment Question was sure that he had gotten the address wrong. He expected something a little more... Gaudy.

Heading around to the side of the warehouse, Question looked for an alternative entrance. Immediately, his non-existent eyes were drawn to a ladder that lay on the ground, and a second story window up in the air. Grabbing the ladder, the vigilante lifted it and set it up against the wall. Climbing up, he was pleased to note that the ladder stopped just at the window, which he opened and climbed into.

Time to catch a nutcase.

Question crouched down and hid behind a crate, looking around the second floor. Nothing here but some more crates. How anti-climactic. Now he was sure he had the wrong address. Still, he continued on, creeping down the stairs to the first floor.

Now this was more like it. A bunch of exotic science equipment that looked like something from a chemist's wet dream, goons in identical green suits, and a death trap that looked like it was pulled from a Bond movie. And let's not forget the villain himself, the Banshee, who was... Nowhere to be found. That was strange.

Then Question heard it, the same voice he encountered just a week ago. He looked over to the source, and found a man in a similarly green suit, the only thing differentiating him from the others being his green fedora. "C'mon boys, time'sa wasting, I want this all to be set up before the night's out!" Outside of the suit, the Banshee actually looked like some normal guy. He was expecting his muscles to be bulging like they were in the suit, but really, he looked scrawny.

But no matter. Question needed to take these guys out. There was no way he could handle thirteen guys, one with super strength. He'd need to do this quietly, one at a time. Heading all the way down to the first floor, he crept towards a goon. He applied a chokehold, but the goon responded quickly, elbowing the vigilante until the both fell back onto a nearby table with a radio. The radio fell to the ground, coming to life just as Question finally knocked the man out with a punch to the temple. The sounds of the music drew the attention of the others, who looked surprised to see the vigilante there.

"Oh shit," Question said, falling into a fighting stance as the goons approached him cautiously, "I love this song!" The group readied themselves, some grabbing weapons and the rest putting their fists forward. "Do me a favor and don't go down easily."

With those words, the vigilante ran towards the group of goons, delivering a leaping kick to the chest of the nearest one. Now on top of the poor bastard, Question swung a left hook to his face to knock him out. Narrowly dodging a wild haymaker, he grabbed that goon's arm and flung him into another, rolling back to get a fair distance away from the rest.

"What, that's it? I was expecting a bit more of a challenge, but I just took out like three guys in less than ten seco- ACK!" Question's taunt was cut off by a baseball bat hitting him in the back of the head, sending him to the floor. Taking advantage of his momentary weakness, the goons surrounded him, wailing on him with all they had, one even burying a switchblade into his back.

They stopped a few moments after the Question went limp. "Did we get him?"

"Safe to say we did, yeah."

"Get the corpse out of here. We need to finish setting up."

Two goons hefted the Question off the ground, one grabbing his arms and the other his legs... Only to shout in surprise as he jumped out of their arms, attacking them in a flurry of fists and feet. Before long, they were both unconscious on the ground, and Question was standing over them looking pissed (an impressive feat considering his lack of a face).

"It'll take more than a couple of punches and a knife in the back to keep me down."

Question counted the men standing. Six. There should be seven. The Banshee was gone. No matter. He was absolutely livid. He was going to vent his frustration on these guys, and save the Banshee for the grand finale.

The goons just stood there, visibly hesitating. "What are you waiting for? Come on!"

This broke their hesitation. The rest of the fight was a blur of punches, kicks, and bats swinging. Question had fallen into 'combat mode' as he liked to call it. No plans. Just instincts. Dislocate a jaw there, break an arm here, kick a kneecap in there... Before long he stood victorious over the thugs, sweat and blood mingling into his wounds.

Yanking the switchblade out of his back and dropping it on the ground, Question looked around for the Banshee. "Ready or not, here I come."

"You won't have to look far, meddler." There he was, striding down the staircase in full costume. "Here I am."

"Hrm." Why would he bother to dress in his costume? He had powers, it wasn't like... Then it hit him. "I think I've figured you out. You don't have powers," Question gestured towards the costume, "It's an exoskeleton."

"Very good. I can fly naturally, yes..." Banshee looked at his right hand, clenching it into a fist. "... But the strength comes from the suit."

"Well that's not fair. You want a fight between us, right? Why not take off the suit and make it a contest of pure skill?"

At this, Banshee chuckled. "Because I want to see you outsmart me."

"Fair." Question rolled his shoulders back as he cracked his neck and knuckles. "Why don't we get this show on the road?"

In response, Banshee flew forward, and Question dodged his charge, instead letting the villain crash into a table full of lab equipment. He pulled himself up, looked dazed but not too hurt.

"Really? The flying brick trick? What's the fun in that?"

"QUIET, INSECT!" Banshee shouted, instead opting to run at the vigilante to deliver a punch.

"Insect? Really? That's the best you could come up with?" Question taunted, ducking under the punch and opting to throw the Banshee over his shoulders.

"I SAID!" Banshee jumped up, managing to deliver a cross punch to the Question's jaw and send the vigilante flying back. "QUIET!"

Grunting as he got up, Question continued, "What? Not a big fan of talking? That's odd, you're a big talker yourself."

Banshee didn't respond, instead moving forward to attack once more. Question sidestepped his punch, grabbing his arm and flinging him into a wooden crate which broke under the villain's weight.

"I get it. You like to talk big and make jokes out of people, but when it happens to you, you get angry. That's what happened the first time we met."

"SHUT UP!" Question dodged another impulsive attack.

"You don't like people laughing at you. Why not? I mean, running around in a ridiculous get up like that, I figured you'd have some level of self awareness."

Banshee threw a wild haymaker, which Question easily avoided.

"Just look at yourself. You're nothing but a big joke. And you're hilarious." Question began to chuckle, still avoiding and blocking attacks.

"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!"

"Hahaha! Look at you! You're getting so mad... That you forgot to cover up the big button on your suit reading 'power down'."

"Wha-" Banshee's surprised exclamation was cut off by Question punching him straight in the mouth, sending the villain to the ground. The vigilante pounced on him, delivering more vicious punches.

"Fooled you."

H U B C I T Y / A M E R I C A

May 19th, 2016 - 4:18 PM | Outside of World Wide Broadcasting | Hupert Square

And as Vic Sage exited WWB, having secured his job back, he finished remembering days long past. After Question defeated him and brought him to the police, the Banshee was locked up in Stateville Correctional Center in their new cell block for metahumans, and was killed when the bus transferring him to Blackgate crashed into a lake.

Back then, Vic rejoiced when the nutjob was announced dead, but now he wishes that the Banshee (or rather, Max Bine) was sent to a mental institution to get the help he needed. But no matter. The past is the past. There's nothing he can do to change it, no matter how much he wishes he could.

He exited the train, walking past the graffiti that sparked this trip on memory lane. And as he walked back to the hotel he was staying at, he could only think one thing:

He can change the future.

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Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by Archmage MC
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Archmage MC

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Metropolis/USA:

May 16th, 2019 - 1:43 | Docks


Willow figured she should probably investigate this lead she got. Sure this Caesar wasn't going anywhere, but the sooner she got this done the better. Using her skills at browsing, Willow looked through a few sites she had made a note of on the dark web. Without much luck, she sighed a mechanical sigh as she began to search the dark web. Eventually she found what she was looking for, purging the sites she saw that would make her question humanity. Going on a hunch based on this drug site she found that had a Roman theme, she figured that this Ceasar guy ran it, or was at least affiliated with it. With a hunch in mind, she was off.

Willow made her way to the docks following her idea. Even if nothing was here, it'd scratch off a big part of her search. After all, no cop would want to go through every warehouse on the docks, so it was a great spot to set up illegal business. But that also worked against Willow, because searching every warehouse would take a considerable amount of time. Then she had another idea. Reforming on top of a high point overlooking a bunch of warehouses, Willow began looking for electronic communications. A warehouse full of drugs would at least have a few guards stationed there, maybe even a wifi signal, so it was worth a shot.

And wouldn't you know it, after her scan she found a few nice hotbeds of phones. There were the dock workers of course, dotted around the place, but there were also a few groups of people in 3 warehouses. Turning into her cloud form, Willow made her way to each one that she had scanned. The first was a Lexcorp warehouse, so no luck there. The second was, of all things, an electronics warehouse where a couple dock workers were playing with a few of the products stored there. Willow giggled a bit at this, and moved on to the last warehouse. There she found what she was looking for. Willow reformed and entered the warehouse.

Upon entering the third warehouse, a few lights switched on. Willow was then greeted by a few armed goons who didn't take trespassing all too well. One was on the ground, while three were overseeing the warehouse from the catwalks. And much like any armed goon would do when faced with an intruder, they opened fire. Willow dived behind a shipping container that was by the door in order to dodge the gunfire. While she wasn't too afraid of guns, she didn't fancy having to wait for them to run out of ammo before she could get any real work done. And if they saw bullets didn't work so well, they'd probably pull out guns that did work on her, and she really didn't wanna have to deal with that.

Taking another page out of Batman's book, Willow turned a corner of the shipping container she was around into a shielded gun, noting the drugs inside. Forming a tentacle, she used this to fire the gun at the lights above. Willow was a bit annoyed that she couldn't just use this gun to shoot the goons directly, but the Justice League brought people in, not killed them. Plus there was more fun to be had this way. Using the darkness as cover, she moved closer to the goon on the ground, hopping from crate to crate. When she got into a good position, she took a chunk out of the floor and threw it behind the guy on the ground. He turned to investigate the sound, his buddies above watching him with flashlights attached to their guns. With everyone in place, Willow ate a bit of the nearby shipping container, turned her arms into grapples, and fired her grapples at the goons on the catwalk. Snagging two of them, she pulled them over the catwalk towards their buddy on the ground. After a fairly satisfying sound of the three goons hunching over each other in a pile and getting tangled up in the grapple cables, the final goon spotted Willow with his flashlight and fired a few rounds at her.

Noticing this, she used more of the nearby shipping container to make a haphazard barrier in front of her, and using the free cover, sent out her nanobots in a goopy trail towards the goon. The goon moved to get a better position, but was grabbed by the catwalk itself! Panicing now that the catwalk had formed into a metal hand that was now holding him, he dropped his gun. Willow swung up to the catwalk and said "So buddy, whatchya know about this Caesar guy?" At first the guy didn't wanna speak, but after Wlllow formed a bunch of nasty looking spikes on her arms and hissed at him, he was a bit more chatty. Of course he didn't know anymore than the street dealer and only repeated what that guy had said. She expected this, and muzzled the guy so he'd stop talking, still in the hand's grip.

All the commotion got another goon to come out of the management room of the warehouse. Apparently this guy was sleeping, as he was still partly in his pajamas. Willow made a move for him while he was looking at the scene unfolding before him, and as Willow got close, he got a solid shot on her face with his shotgun. Now, this probably would've been fairly damaging for a normal robot, but thats not what Willow was. And instead of seeing robot bits fly off her, there was just a metallic hole where the slug had hit her. Annoyed by being shot in the face, she jumped at the guy as a wall of metallic goo. He tried another shot but it was in vein as Willow covered him and reformed, the man now in her grasp with his shotgun being eaten by Willow. Willow said, annoyed."Rude. You and your buddies were all rude. I'm just here for Caesar."

After having just been attacked by what he thought of as a goo robot that dissolved both his cloths and his weapon, and had him in a tight grip, he let slip that he was the one called Caesar. He then made some remark about how his boss wouldn't stand for this and blah blah blah. At this point, Willow was happy she found her quarry, tying him up using the catwalk below and hanging up the guy like the other one to hear the rest. Laughing out of joy due to finishing her little case here, she tried to get a bit of information out of this Caesar guy about his boss, but all she could get was the same threat in a different form as if the guy didn't even know his own employer. Considering he was just a hired goon more or less, that was expected.

With the goons in the warehouse all tied up and under control, Willow dialed up the cops and gave them the warehouse location, then got to work looking through the containers. Like she figured, some were full of drugs, but most were just full of normal things. A bit sad she couldn't find anything else, she left the warehouse and made her way back to League HQ. All in all, for an improptu mission she found on the streets, it was pretty successful. No doubt the cops would be happy having a bit of a narcotics ring shut down. Plus this would make for a fun blog! Well, if Wonder Woman would let her post it anyway...
Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by baraquiel
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baraquiel Angel of Moe *:・゚✧

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SAN FRANCISCO

May 9th, 2019 - 11:39 AM | Baker Beach

It was just a normal day at the beach. People of all ages were here, enjoying the cool waves of the sea under the scorching heat of the sun. Children were laughing and building sandcastles, teenagers were playing volleyball, and adults were either relaxing under the shade of their beach umbrella, grilling meat for lunch, or having conversations with one another. All this, the young girl named Mareena had observed from afar.

All that time, she was studying how the humans behaved and interacted with each other, hoping to gain something from them and be able to blend in with them. First of all were the clothes: some loose, skimpy, showing large amounts of skin, or tight suits suitable for swimming. She looked down on her body. She wore a regular looking black swimsuit so she guessed that'll do.

Next were the skin and the hair color, and Mareena was genuinely surprised. It didn't occur to Mareena how similar the humans are to her kind. An Atlantean could easily pass as a human whenever one wants to. Honestly, she didn't even know why she's hiding behind rocks on the far reaches of the beach. From new-girl jitters, perhaps? In any case, if she wanted to live independently from now on, she came to the conclusion that she'll have to do big swims of faith and make do with what she has.

Mareena jumped in place and shook her whole body to fight off the nervousness. She paced around a bit and exhaled a few times before taking in a deep breath and walking confidently towards the humans on the beach, which made her land face-first on the sand with her first step. She grumbled and stood up to further study how the humans walked. "Okay, so right foot first, then left-woah!", Mareena exclaimed as she wobbled a bit. She looked at the humans in alarm and breathed a sigh of relief when they didn't hear her. "You can do this Mareena. Just, concentrate", she said to herself. "Just breathe in, breath out, relax-"

"What language is that?"

Mareena looked back to see a young man sitting on the rocks, watching her. He wore a red tank top and beach shorts. He also had a darker skin complexion that Mareena's because he was tanned. Like her father, the man before her had blond hair but has dark green eyes that seemed to look at her curiously and intensely. Mareena blushed and looked away.

"Oh hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you", the man said. He stood up and approached Mareena. "I'm Jonathan, by the way, but you can call me Jonah", he said with a smile as he reached out his hand.

Mareena glanced a few times at the man before looking at him completely. The man seemed to be the same age as her if not a few years older. Other than that, this man that called himself Jonah was still shrouded in mystery. She looked at his outstretched hand in confusion before putting on her hand atop of his. Jonah looked at her in bewilderment before laughing.

"You're very weird, a good kind of weird in fact", he said while looking at Mareena in amusement. Mareena, on the other hand, continued to look indifferent and confused at him. It took him seconds to realize something. "You don't understand me, do you?".

Mareena coughed before speaking. "Me understands you, but me no good speaking your languages", she said. It took a lot of effort and hand gestures for her to say that sentence and Jonah really saw how obviously Mareena struggled.

"It's okay, I understand completely", Jonah reassured her. "If that's the case, I'll speak more clearly from now on so you can catch up, alright?", to which Mareena nodded. "Awesome! Now let's start over. My name is Jona- hey wait! Where you going?".

Before Jonah was able to continue, Mareena quickly turned to look at the sea behind her and felt the cries of a sea creature calling for help. She quickly dived and swam to the source of the cries where two fishing boats encircle the poor creature in the far reaches of the sea.

Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by Ruby
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Ruby No One Cares

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A R T I C

May 16th, 2019 - Morning | The Fortress of Solitude


Sanctuary, start log.

"It has a name: The Fortress of Solitude. Kal had set up some rudimentary security and DNA recognition. The door just let me right in. Wouldn't have mattered, the moment I saw Kryptonian architecture peeking out of an incredible mass of ice was my first moment of pure joy on this planet so far. I'm still smiling; my cheeks hurt. It's...it's like finding a single shelter in a storm that's taken everything else."

The sudden, jarring, jerk from happiness to tears in her eyes was short. Lose everything else in your life but yourself and an A.I. and a ship, a bitter thought from a bitter girl. She was trained for this. She knew better than to wallow. She never slept. When she did, she dreamt of home. When she woke, all she could do was curl up and cry. It was dizzying. Everything become nothing. She had begged him to make the make the dreams go away. He couldn't imagine the pain, she would think, but somehow even that fell flat at the sight of the pale...thing. He wasn't human. He called himself a god.

Kara didn't believe in gods. She could never become a god.

It was no small blessing she arrived late only to find Kal dead. Had she found him self-proclaimed and all powerful, she would have had to save him. Or kill him. It was the mission; she wasn't a baby. She was a fully mature, fully trained Kryptonian scientist. Her parents and aunt and uncle had spared her nothing. Ever. She couldn't let emotion keep her from her sparing any Kryptonian survivors. That humans seemed to believe Kal and she the only Kryptonian survivors, and her family all seemed to agree there would be more than just the two of them, something had to give.

"When I walked in I had Superman come to greet me. Pretty shocking to see him as he was when he died, as an adult. Kal clearly got his hands on some Kryptonian tech, but our 'memory' tech? That was something of a surprise. It was considered cutting edge even towards the end. We played around with it, but really it was much more Jor-El's thing. More like a hobby than a full time pursuit. But there he was, in full form and talking to me. Turns out Kal-El discovered in a log of his ship that his ship was in communication with another Kryptonian vessel. The wormhole that swallowed my ship whole was registered on his vessel's long range scanners, such as they were. For the last twelve years of his life he was watching for me. Waiting for me."

There was no chair in the main chamber. Kal-El grew up without the need to rest, but Kara was always rather fond of curling up in a big chair and doing work there. "Sanctuary and I will start working soon enough. I'll probably leave Sanctuary here, at least the core. Someone has an insanely large antenna aimed at this location: like they expect Kryptonian technology to work on the same primitive radio waves of Earth. As charming as it is naive." Kara chuckled into the log; something of a no-no in log taking etiquette. If her old Professors wanted to come scold her for the chuckle, they were welcome to.

"Superman's memory was very kind, and gave me a tour before beginning to glitch. Kal was no technician, I was more surprised his memory functioned at all. I don't think the core seals were ever removed--I don't think Kal knew that there were cores in all this 'crystal' structure. So I popped the seals and peeked in the housing. There's damage to the Kryptonian cores. Crystal cores, fancy stuff, but I can make repairs. I might need some materials, and that's where this all gets wildly interesting."

She turned on her heel, coming face to face with the biggest shock in the Fortress. "The capital of Krypton was thought destroyed. It happened in the early stages of our annihilation; no one away from the capital knew what happened, or how. Now I find the capital of Kandor in some sort of...bottle. I thought it was a model, but further study proves that's very much not the case. Sanctuary tells me it has it's own atmosphere, including it's own mini-red sun. The technology required for this is astounding, and far beyond what Kal was capable of. So how did it get in the bottle? Who/what took it from Krypton before destruction? I spent two years in Kandor while attending classes. Do I have friends in there? Old professors? It offers only questions, no answers. There's a device that allowed Superman to shrink down and enter the city; that's great, and all, but it won't work for my genetic sequencing. Not yet, at least. That's another thing on my 'to-do' list, and a pretty big one. So is the question of whether or not to tell the Kandorians what they're into. Think the Batman knew Kal was keeping about six million Kryptonians in a bottle in his frozen crystal fortress? I'm guessing not, considering how freaked out the guy was just to find out I was a reality."

Kara sighed at the bottled city, but the sigh wasn't all trauma and sadness. Wistful, half-hopeful, even. Suddenly Kara didn't feel alone. She wasn't. Six million was a proper re-settlement campaign. Kryptonians weren't destroyed. Kandor could be a seed to plant. On Earth? It seemed unlikely, to say nothing of highly against Kryptonian ethics, a thought that only frustrated her as she moved out of the vault and into a smaller chamber. It held a chair, closer to a crystalline throne, and giant tablets of an extremely heavy metal with Kryptonian writing seared into the otherwise smooth, shiny surface. "I found Kal's log, although it reads more like a personal journal. I've had Sanctuary download his voice from his 'memory', and the journal entries: I'll listen to them in his own voice. He didn't realize he was about to die."

Kara felt hot. A neat trick in a Fortress that would give Queen Elsa envy issues, but Kara knew exactly why: Kal's death. That thought led to the end of her own personal log, "Kandor changes everything. My mission, my intentions, but Sanctuary will need time. I believe we have a lead on where Kal got it, but we'll need time to follow up, maybe even have to 'borrow' a human satellite. One of the long range telescopes. So that becomes my second priority, while maybe illogical and unethical, my first priority becomes how Kal was murdered. I have to make sure what murdered him was murdered right back. My parents would gasp at hearing me say those words, but it's amazing how violent I feel at seeing the human video records of my baby cousin being beaten to death. If it was murdered back, I have to make sure there are no remains. Nothing to come back and haunt the universe ever again...luckily I have something of a lead there, too. Kal's records indicate a break-in of his Fortress. Given the feeble security here, I'm not shocked, but the trail leads back to a LexCorp. It happened after Kal's death, and they tried to tamper with Kryptonian records. They tried to alter his early reflections on the creature that would be his murderer. Delete the record? Maybe? It's hard to say, they did such a bad job with Kryptonian programming."

It was when she passed on to the last room that Kara re-discovered her smile, her fingertips delicately petting the metallic surface of the little robot. "I found Kelek. How Jor-El's pet robot got here...I can't wait to ask it. When it saw me it started giving off an alarm, the same proximity alarm Jor-El programmed into Kelek after I tampered with it for fun, so that I was never able to get close to Kelek unsupervised again." A memory that both made her laugh, and roll her ice-blue eyes. "Kelek only stopped when I told him Jor-El was gone. It was like the little thing forgot, and suddenly remembered. Kelek was pretty heavily damaged, I'm guessing he was always corrupted since the trip to Earth, but there's...damage on his exterior."

Her fingertips passed over dings and burn marks on his casing. "Weapons fire. This 'LexCorp', I am thinking. I can fix Kelek. It'll be good to have the extra help when Sanctuary and I start really digging into the reconstruction of this Fortress...this is my home on Earth. Everything else will be a satellite: I turned in my keys to the Boston apartment. Sanctuary purchased me a 'flat' in Metropolis, and now I'm headed out to the west coast of this human nation Kal lived in. Sanctuary found evidence on the planet's data networks of LexCorp files regarding Kryptonians, and it's a good place to start, since apparently Sanctuary can't actually hack LexCorp without setting off alarms. Pretty impressive, for humans. Sanctuary can find ways around the security on LexCorp's system, but we don't have the time. I need Sanctuary putting the majority of it's power into the Kandor problems, and into shoring up this Fortress, in preparing the upgrades. So that means me doing more fieldwork. Wish me luck. Kar'a Zor-El, head of House El, end log three."
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Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by Unknown100
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Gotham, America:

May 16th, 2019 - 22:01,
Gotham Clock Tower

@Lord Wraith


Halfway through her evening snack, Oracle turned her head and almost chocked. “God dammit, Kate!” she yelled, a single piece of noodle escaping her mouth only to get stuck on one of the 8k touchscreen in front. “So, you sneak up on me for fun, or is it all predator instinct?”

From the shadows, and there were many this time a night, Batwoman stepped out. “Bit of both,” she answered. Her usual monotone way of talking had a hint of impatience after last night’s failure. All around, the machinery of the Clock Tower, the base of The Birds of Prey, lit up, moved, sprouted with life. But not her. Batwoman was like a silhouette of darkness, even with the red in her costume. “Besides…” she continued, “aren’t your expensive blocks of hardware supposed to warn you about such things?”
A few keystrokes later, the woman turned her chair to face Batwoman, standing there tall and in full uniform. “It warns me about threats, not allies who know the code and way in. Though in your case I’m seriously considering sticking a tracker on that thick skull of yours. Where were you?”

For the briefest of moments Batwoman saw her father staring down at her. Felt the weight of his betrayal. The horror of his plan. And in that fleeting flash of loneliness she almost admitted last night’s activities, to Oracle and to herself. Then the feeling passed and instead she merely replied: “Out.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s not cryptic at all!”

“I’m sure you didn’t leave 30 messages on my phone just so you could get a shoulder to cry on.”

“I’m not cry…” But Oracle calmed and removed all signs of frustration. Then proceeded to amend the flowing, orange hair on her head. The way she always did when joggling multiple thoughts at the same time.
Batwoman had no idea how this 26-year-old could manage both the team, the Tower, a day job and all the bullshit being thrown her way. Especially from me.
The word “handicapped” seriously needs a new definition.

“Look, we need you, okay? Huntress and Lady Blackhawk gave it their all last night. Yet all they managed to get where these.” Oracle enlarged a few images on the computer by the flick of her hand. Suddenly every surface in the room had a different projection of a catsuit-wearing woman. Like a 360 degree fashion show, and indeed the model did look fashionable. Each shot was in motion and seemed to originate from the same 2 surveillance cameras.

The characteristic little ears and whip combined with the skintight outfit left no question in Batwoman’s mind as to whom this was. “So, all they got were old images of Catwoman in her prime.” she mumbled sarcastic.

“These are less than 22 hours old.”

“Impressive. I hope I can still fit my costume when I’m Selina’s age. Or do you imagine we’re dealing with a copycat here?” Looking at the see-through inner workings of the Clock Tower, Batwoman added: “Pun intended.” She zoomed in on a helicopter flying by outside.
The layered filter behind each of the 4 clocks ensured total visibility to each side without the chance of being spotted. Like guardians The Birds of Prey watched, ready to fly by and strike down the creeps in the city.

“It’s more than just a copycat. Whoever this is, she’s fast. Like living-up-to-the-Catwoman-name-fast. Even Huntress couldn’t keep up.”

“Okay, what does it even matter, who took up the title of cat burglar in Gotham? We’re supposed to take on the threats that fists and badges can’t. Hunt the big game. What did this new Catwoman do, steal a few artifacts? Yeah, I heard the whisper and it’s low-level shit. Why should we care?”

“Because half of all crime organizations in Gotham do.” The words were left up in the air long enough for the weight of them to sink in, before Oracle continued: “Whatever this new cat stole, it’s making a lot of bad guys eager. They are putting all their chips on finding her and we need to know why. We can’t afford that some thug, looking to be the next king of crime, gets to her first. Whatever is gathering this much heat is going to change the streets of Gotham. Unfortunately, tracking her has proved problematic to say the least."

Stopping mere inches from a screen, Batwoman looked at the center of all this attention, now with more somber eyes. “Then we’ll start at the source.”

“… you mean?”

“Ol' Selina Kyle.”

Outside rain started pouring down unexpectedly and thunder assembled in strength, signifying the dreads this night would carry with it.
Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by Omega Man
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in...
WEIRDER THINGS


Metropolis / United States:

May 17th, 2019 - 03:46 PM | Metro Tower - Midtown


Comet was still getting used to how far the world had come since he originally left back in World War II. It seemed like a lot at first, but then he realized how much more advanced some of the alien species he'd interacted with still were in comparison. Robotman and Wonder Woman were both presently at the Tower, along with Comet, and a couple reserves were also hanging around using the League's resources. It was just a normal day. That was until Comet thought he saw something familiar...?! What appeared in front of him before vanishing into the wall looked like the Weird. Black and red attire, strange head piece, with the one larger eye.



"What the..?" Comet thought, however the neural link to his friends in the Tower caused everyone in the building to have goosebumps.

From down the hallway Blake could hear him coming. The metal in his body grinding and working it's way forward... oddly enough in jeans and a t-shirt, with a lit cigar in his metal mouth. Cliff Steele, former hero of Midway City turned founding member of the Justice League. He called himself Robotman because he was never very original. The big Hollywood movie based on him called the hero Ultronic and made his body silver and gave him his own superhero symbol. Cliff was fine with jeans and a t-shirt. Generally if he didn't like somebody he'd tell them to bite his shiny metal ass. The machine man was just as human as anyone and loved out drinking any and everyone. This was also a feat capable of Cliff before he was given the stomach of a robot. His eyes would be red with aggravation if not for them already being red by design. He creaked and cranked towards the brown haired young-ish looking hero before the newer JLU recruit began to apologize.

"Cliff! I'm sorry if the link to our brains...." Comet began to say before he was interrupted.

"Sometimes I wish my brain was robotic so I wouldn't have to deal with you damn telepaths. What spooked ya kid?" Robotman asked.

"Kid? In another decade I'll be pushing a hundred, tin man." Comet thought to himself, or so he thought...

"What's that about pushing a hundred?" Robotman asked out loud.

Adam Blake's powers were out of control. Could the Weird have returned? Or is it after all this time Blake's finally having a mental breakdown? He closed his eyes and ran one of his hands through his hair. After a few breaths he opened his eyes and there it was. Sort of. In the reflection coming off of Robotman's face the Weird showed up again. Blake looked over his shoulder and there was nothing there. The heroes walked up on a water fountain and the red clad hero stopped for a sip. A cosmic entity was toying with him. Comet believed the Weird had perished in space during events that happened before Comet came back to Earth. Why was he back now? Or was the man really just losing his mind?

"I think I need to go blow off some steam. Is there anybody in the War Room?" Comet asked the founder.

"One or two of the reserves I think are practicing as many one-liners as they are combat techniques. They should be done soon..." Robotman said before finally breaking away to go towards the front exit.

Blake had to walk to the back of the first floor and enter the lower levels of the HQ through a special elevator. The bottom floor was the level with the war room. A colossal domed area roughly the size of two football fields with an operating station as well as a viewing room and hallway leading around one side from the elevator entrance. The room was like something out of a science fiction film and could replicate any scenario. Holo-droids could take the form of any enemy in the Justice Leagues files, or any uploaded by the heroes newer to the League. Holograms made their 'skin' to appear like anything, as well as the expendable civilians in scenarios. It's just cheaper and they don't have to replace as many holo-droids. The elevator ride seemed long, however it was just because the War Room itself was roughly one mile below ground. Comet was getting a little anxious and noticed how shiny the floor in the elevator was, and then he noticed it again. The large left eye of the Weird seemed like it was following him. Or was it just in his head? A trick he'd used many times on enemies, casting illusions to make them feel all sorts of emotions, was now backfiring on him? Or was it? Hopefully some time unleashing his power would do him some good.

- Ω
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Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by The Angry Goat
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Bludhaven // USA:

May 16th, 2019 - 2:06 AM // Green Line Docks// It Always Goes Deeper


Ghost woke with a flash to the sound of at least 4 police cars pulling up to the warehouse.... shit she thought. She tried to lift herself upright, and quickly almost passed out again... she hoped it wasn't a concussion - but she needed to move NOW. Gritting her teeth, she moved up to the upper floor again, her flying clumsy, before collapsing again under cover in the upper area. Parts of it looked quite unsafe, and it was clearly unused, so she hoped they wouldn't send anyone up there while she nursed her wounds. The cops entered, guns drawn and holding flashlights, a few audible gasps as the stockpile of weapons came into their view.

"Carl, check the top floor. It looks abandoned, but you can never be sure"

"copy"

Well. shit. Just one though... She could work with that. He walked slowly through the area, checking every corner - she could tell by the beam of light flashing over one way, then to the right, then back again to the left. She steeled her mind as he approached her position, forcing his mouth shut and gun arm straight up as he turned to face her.

Still lying on the ground and speaking in a soft, low whisper, "Only the criminals and corrupt of this city fear me - you need not if you are honest. I am the Ghost of Bludhaven, and you would do well to heed my word. The ringleader of this little operation was a man in garish green with a fiddle. Watch the Melville Park concert carefully, and be aware that he is active here now. Speak of my existence here and you will regret it." She released him and watched intently as he considered his options, and then slowly moved on with his patrol, and later back downstairs.

"clear"

Ghost allowed herself a small sigh of relief. She also didn't appear to have a concussion, just a zinging headache, which was nice. She watched as the cops cuffed the gunmen and led them off - she was sure they'd see little of the cell, but fear of her was a far greater enforcement tool. eventually they left the premises, and she was able to leave from whence she came. The rest of her patrol could wait - she had an investigation to do.

Bludhaven // USA:

May 15th, 2019 - 2:47 AM // Saalima's Apartment (Near Blue Line North, Second Stop) // It Always Goes Deeper


Saalima was again grateful that she had managed to land an apartment that was cheap enough to live in without a roommate - realistically hiding her alternate identity would have been next to impossible in the long run, but it also helped that she could do things like grabbing
an ice pack out of her freezer at 3 in the morning without someone questioning why she was making so much noise - or why she had bruise marks all over her head and shoulders. Lowering herself into her desk chair, she pulled out her paper notes and started her computer. She began to consider the case as a whole. It was clear based on what she heard that this was bigger than just this violinist. His goals could be important to figuring everything out though, so she'd start there. Attack on a concert implied two things right off the bat - he was snubbed by a band pre-concert, or he was going over the details of the distraction to the real plan. These didn't have to be mutually exclusive... She looked through the set list for the park concert, and then started cross-referencing the bands that had violinists or fiddlers - 3 - with any articles or other sources of news (band websites, youtube pages, bandcamp accounts, weird internet music forums) within the past year or so. It took her a while, and she managed to find one Jamari Rivers, violinist for one of the bands who had left it 6 months ago to pursue his education at Rutgers University. It was an incredibly weak link, especially since he was still living in that city (confirmed, since he showed up as a club member), and also didn't look at all like the man she had fought, so she doubted it significantly.

Okay, so that's out the window. This left him as a distraction as the obvious deal. Desmond was in jail right now on tax evasion - he'd be out by the end of the year, but he was still a bit more limited in his abilities to act than usual, and besides, his level of crime generally didn't involve derelict warehouses full of guns that could easily be found by wandering do-gooders - and he had never really associated with other supervillains anyway. so it was likely that someone else was up to something.

With Desmond in jail, it opened up opportunities for others to try and get in on the local market. Who though? Could be any number of the nutheads that run around in Gotham - but why would they bother coming over here? They never really did when there was no one patroling this city, why would they start now that Batman had left their city, and she was here? She supposed they could still be trying out using this city as a base or something: it wasn't outside the realm of possibility, but there were others who could be up to something... She'd do more after some sleep. She had some friends that needed to be visited.
Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by NinaDivine
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GOTHAM, New Jersey / U.S.A.:

June 23th, 2018 - Time 19:17 | The Kane Ballroom - Gotham Heights

It had been roughly five months since Thea Deardren Queen returned home, rescued from being stranded and shipped wrecked upon an island in the Pacific for five years, and the eighteen year old had had enough of flashbulbs and cameras with microphones and cellphones shoved in her face. She had begrudgingly accompanied her mother to Gotham to attend a charity gala hosted by the first son of Gotham, Bruce Wayne. Not only had there been press outside the door to snap photographs and hopefully chat with beautiful elite of Gotham and from around the country, but there were also cameras inside to film the whole event. Of course, Thea knew this gala had absolutely nothing to do with her. Yet she couldn't help feel like there were eyes on her the whole time.

"Come on, dear," Moira Queen said in a low voice as she lifted her hand to lightly swat away some tiny specs of lint that had managed to cling the arm of Thea's bolero dress beaded, cuffed jacket. "Smile. Go mingle. Have some fun."

Thea did not look at her mother as the woman spoke. Instead her green eyes floated over the gigantic ballroom scanning and taking in her environment and all whom traveled through it. She stood there in her crimson sleeveless dress with the beaded U-neck, empire waist and cascading asymmetrical hem with the slide split upon the left clutching her purse. What scars on her body that could not be hidden by the dress or matching jacket she were either too faint to see or covered by makeup. She may have seemed relaxed to the average attendee as she occasionally flashed a polite smile to those whom greeted her. But, to the eye trained to read body language one could she she was on high alert. It wasn't that she knew something was about to happen. It was a trait learned during her time on the island. Always be mindful of your surroundings.




June 23tth, 2018 - Time 19:40 | The Kane Ballroom - Gotham Heights


Minutes would drag by torturously for the young woman. Moira Queen had gone off to mingle with her Gotham City peers, the wealthy and businessmen, slowly trailing behind Bruce Wayne himself, yet with each step she inched closer to the billionaire owner of Wayne Industries. By contrast, Thea had only traveled along on wall on the ballroom with a thin champagne glass of fruity punch in hand. As Thea traveled along the outskirts of the ball she was stopped a handful of times by attendees. In two incidences she was stopped by men with reddish noses and slightly slurred speech, complimenting her beauty and asking her to dance. Thea managed to turn down both invitations and distract the gentlemen long enough to stealthily slip away each time. The third time she was stopped was by a couple who recognized her from the news a few months back. As they flooded her with questions a small group began encircling her. To escape, Thea simply reached into her purse and retrieved her phone, speed-dialing the head of security of Queen Industries. "Excuse me. I have to take this," she quickly told the invasive group.

"Hello? Thea?" came the deep, strong voice of John Thomas Diggle. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine," she replied once she had put a number of steps between herself and the small group of oglers. "In fact, you just saved me from an uncomfortable situation." From where she stood now Thea could now see the man of the hour, Mr Wayne.

"Then I'll be expecting a nice bonus this pay period," Diggle stated. "For that as well as everything I've been doing for you lately."

His words brought a slight smirk to Thea's face which would be the only response she would give to his statement. "How are you doing, John? Last I saw you weren't looking so hot." Thea's eyes watched Bruce Wayne as he was addressing someone hidden by other gala guests. The billionaire philanthropist suddenly answered his phone. Thea watched as his mood quickly changed from relaxed to one of concern, perhaps even anger.

"Not looking so hot. Yeah, that's hilarious," Diggle said over Thea's phone. "What the hell did you put in that chili, girl?"

"It was my father's recipe. I--"

"Everyone, evacuate immediately!" Bruce Wayne yelled with a voice that demanded attention just as the lights went out.

"--got to go."

Thea ended the call and placed her phone in purse. There was obvious panic taking over the ballroom in the darkness. Screaming and shrieks of fright pierced the black. With the emergency lights kicking on the high-pitched voices unified into one collective gasp. Not five feet away from where Thea stood an older man with thick snow hair and a mustache that enveloped his top lip had a police issued sidearm aimed towards the intruder. "Don't even think about making a move... Batman?!"

Batman?! Indeed there of the dark vigilante of Gotham in all his spooky glory holding Bruce Wayne hostage with an arm around the rich man's neck threatening to stab a batarang through his carotid artery. Amazingly Mr Wayne remained calm. He even seemed rather... annoyed? Impatient? Armed officers were scattered around the two while the gala attendees hung back, Moira stood not two point seven meters to the left behind the billionaire and his captor.

As Thea weighed her dwindling options a shot rang out. Yet it didn't seem to come from any of the guns in the room. The shot hit the Batman in the shoulder which allow Bruce Wayne to escape his captor's grip. Wayne ran screaming out a nearby exit, knees pumping high in the air. Immediately the police in attendance opened fire upon the often called Dark Knight. Most of the party-goers ran after Wayne or took his lead in trying to escape the ballroom as the bullets began to fly. Moira screamed for her daughter and reached out an arm only to be nearly trampled as she was forcibly shoved through a doorway. With her mother out of the harm's way the metaphoric ropes that tied Thea's hands had loosened somewhat. When the policemen began firing their weapons Thea ducked beside a nearby table. As the old man with the mustache ordered a ceasefire the eighteen year old reached into her purse wrapping her slender fingers around the black feathered weapon she had chosen to carry with tonight unbeknownst to her mother. After all, it was Gotham. With the guns silenced and the smoke slowly clearing from the room Thea's green eyes stared straight at where the Batman had stood.

And still he stood. Thea's remarkable eyes watched as the Batman's shoulder wound seemed to heal itself with liquid or plasma filling in the hole made by the bullet not unlike the liquid metal android in that Schwarzenegger movie. The Batman let loose an angry, animalistic roar. Bullets flew once more yet not from the guns of the police. They were coming from the Batman! Every piece of lead that had been fired upon him was now being released from his body at seemingly the same force and velocity back into the directions from which they came. Bodies of officers and socialites fell to the floor.

The Batman charged at the old policeman who fired his gun with no effect. Thea jumped into action, dropping her purse with weapon in hand. Thea ran a few steps towards the old man and leaped towards him while she threw the flechette, a steel projectile with a fanned tail that resmbled a little arrow and was approximately the size of a throwing knife, aiming for the mad Bat's neck. This particular flechette was customized with a needle point so when it hit its target it would inject said target with just enough sedative to put the average human male into a state of slumber. After what she had just witnessed she had her doubts about the Batman being human which is why she leapt at the mustached head of police with the intent to crash into him to knock him out of the Dark Knight's path.






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H U B C I T Y / A M E R I C A:

May 13th, 2019 - 9:43 PM | Curie Chemical Corporation | Hupert Square

Inhale. Open your eyes.

Take in as much air as you can. Keep a look out for hostiles. Try not to make a sound.


The Question held his breath, sticking to the shadows to hide from the night guard that was passing by on his patrol. He slipped past the guard, entering an office to both catch his breath and hopefully dig up an important document.

Embrace the purity of mathematics. The building is half a mile in area. Guards posted at every fifty feet. They travel four feet a second. There will be few gaps to slip through.

Fingers flitting through documents in a filing cabinet, he stopped on one that seemed promising, pulling the manilla folder out and flipping through it. A small, smug smirk made its way onto his visage. "Jackpot."

Corporate crimes are no different from a criminal gunning down dozens in a shopping mall in this day and age. It's a new kind of war, one fought on a new battlefield. Its weapons are lawsuits and bribes. Its soldiers white collar workers. Its commanders CEOs and corrupt politicians.

He'll fit right in.


H U B C I T Y / A M E R I C A:

May 14th, 2019 - 6:31 PM | World Wide Broadcasting | Hupert Square

"- in the water supply, in order to avoid the costs of disposing of the chemicals properly. When asked for a statement, Curie Chemical Corporation executives refused to comment. Multiple high profile residents of Hub City are suing CCC, and the future looks grim for them," Vic shuffled his notes, before looking at the camera dead on. "This is Vic Sage for World Wide Broadcasting. Good night, and good luck, Hub City."

Another day, another dollar. Exposing corporate corruption and opening the eyes of the public, one case and one person at a time. This is what he lives for, and everyday he gets closer to his goal: a world where no one is blind to the corruption around them, and won't stand for it. A world where, eventually, there will be no corruption. A better world.

As he walked off the stage, heading to the parking lot, his production staff congratulated him.

"Great show, Vic," Fred said, patting Vic on the back.

"Really got 'em this time, eh Sage?" Al joked, chuckling as he gave Vic a high five.

"I want to have your children." And then there was Vic's assistant Nora...

... She could be strange sometimes.

Heading out of the station and into the parking lot, Vic stopped to marvel at his pride and joy: a vintage, dark blue 1957 VW Beetle. Getting into his bug, he started the car up, fighting the temptation to rev the engine. "I am not attached to this car. It is merely a material object keeping me from attaining enlightenment. I am not attached to this car."

He peeled out of the parking lot, Porsche engine within the little Beetle roaring like a lion.

"... I'm attached to this car."

H U B C I T Y / A M E R I C A:

May 14th, 2019 - 7:10 PM | Aristotle Rodor's Home | Downtown

"Brandy, Charles?" Tot offered, raising his own glass.

"Not tonight, Tot. Gotta keep my senses sharp. I'm still gonna be patrolling." Vic settled into the recliner, closing his eyes and falling into a state of semi-awareness.

"Hmph. I keep forgetting that you're a new man, even though it's been at least a decade."

"Not a new man. Just the same old Vic, only reformed."

"And all the better for it."

"So what'd you call me here for, Tot?"

At this, Tot hesitated. "It... It regards Max Bine. The Banshee."

The Banshee. Vic hadn't heard his name in years. "What about him? He's dead."

"... It would appear not."

At this, Vic jolted out of his state of meditation and stared at Tot, slightly ajar jaw the only sign he was surprised. "... How?"

"That, I'm not sure of," Tot replied, setting his glass of brandy down as he approached his computer. "But there have been multiple accounts by witnesses all throughout Chinatown that the Banshee is flying around at night. And, while you were busy playing conspiracy hunter, a CCTV camera recorded this."

The sounds of keys clacking and a mouse clicking eventually led to Tot's flat screen coming on, displaying the camera footage. Though rather low quality, one could make out the silhouette flying in the night. As the Question watched it, he could only thing one thing to himself...

'The Banshee flies again.'

A few moments of silence passed after the footage stopped. Without another word, Vic threw on his coat and hat, stalking out of his friend's house, his grim determination to put an end to this once and for all evident within his step.

H U B C I T Y / A M E R I C A:

May 14th, 2019 - 8:22 PM | Rooftops | Chinatown

One moment he was threatening to throw a criminal off the roof for information. The next, he was on his ass and gripping at his throbbing head. His vision was darkening, his ears pounding, and it felt like someone drove an ice pick into his skull. Needless to say, it wasn't a very pleasant experience.

Looking around the roof for what exactly caused him this pain in such a short amount of time, he saw nothing- that is, until a form began to rise from its kneeling position. Cape flowing, hood draped over head, and yellow eyes narrowed into a scowl.

'The Banshee flies again.'

The costume was the same, yet different all at once. Gone was the bright lime green, replaced by a more subtle forest green. With it went the exposed mouth, his mask covering his entire face. Still, it was unmistakably the Banshee standing before him.

"Thought I... Kicked your ass... To Kingdom Come..." Question coughed. "Back for another can o-*wheeze*-of whoopass, eh?"

"Cute that you think your taunts still affect me," Banshee replied, his once rather nasally voiced replaced by an artificially deep and guttural growl. "You've no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

What followed was easily within the top ten of the list of the most brutal beatdowns the Question had received. Not within the top five, but still good enough to rank top ten. It wasn't a very pretty scene, to say the least.

At the end of it all, the vigilante was bloodied and bruised all over.

"Mercy is a small favor that I grant you once more. Make me regret it again, and I will kill you and everyone you love." The Banshee turned to fly off... Only to find the Question's firm grip wrapped around his leg, clinging onto him in a desperate final bid.

The Banshee didn't bother with a physical attack. He simply screamed.

And with that scream, came amplification, which resulted in a piercing noise that nearly made the Question's eardrums burst. His vice grip loosened, allowing the Banshee to escape into the night. The masked lawman simply looked up at the silhouette flying away into the night sky, vision going red.

The Question released a shuddering sigh, then closed his eyes.

To Be Continued
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Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by DocTachyon
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DocTachyon Teenage Neenage Neetle Teetles

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IN: SAME OLD SONG AND DANCE; PART ONE

C A S T L E V E R T I G O / V L A T A V A:

May 18th, 2019 - 2:37 AM | Castle Vertigo Exterior - Vlatava


Vlatava was an old country, drenched in the blood of generations. It had worn so many flags that it all became an endless stream of meaningless colors. The last occupation of note was the Soviets -- they’d taken up residence in what they called Zamok Yastreb, Castle Hawk, and spent the next twelve weeks shoring up the defenses. They got the spend the next three weeks after that getting pounded by local artillery, and the next thirty seconds after that getting annihilated by The Spectre.

You could be forgiven for thinking that Vlatava couldn’t walk away from a purge by a God. The Vlatvian people were like roaches -- festering in their own shit and sin, and damn near unkillable. They’d grown used to subjugation. Holy Romans, Polish-Lithuanians, Austro-Hungarians, Soviets, and most recently, a jackass in a green costume. Vlatava may have survived a God’s wrath, but they hadn’t met the motherfucking Midnighter.

Vertigo’s Castle reached up into the sky like black fingers strangling the stars. It was a blight on the countryside, a jutting monolith of gothic architecture in a backdrop of rolling green hills and dopey farm animals that had wandered from home. It’s poison seeped into the land itself, dead grass spread out in a ring from the perimeter of the Castle’s walls. The Lord Regent’s soldiers dotted the parapets. They were dug in at machine gun encampments, three men to a GShG-7.62 and surrounded by a nest of sandbags. The first of many impudent attempts on Midnighter’s life, to be sure.

Midnighter lay prone in the tall grass, tuning out the steady drone of the crickets and focusing on the turrets. There were three turrets on the Castle’s north side, situated atop their own Bastions. One of them was turned the opposite direction, prepared to unleash .50 caliber death on any idiot that tried to waltz in through the front gate and into the courtyard. The remaining duo swept the local area, keeping eyes up for any hostiles. The only thing they hadn’t prepared for was death from above.

The pole vault was never Midnighter’s favorite Olympic Event, but damned if it wasn’t one of his best. He jammed his bo staff six inches into Vlatvian soil and bedrock and heaved his weight over the titanium staff. Carbon fiber muscles launched him towards the middle gun emplacement like a missle.

“What the fuck is tha-” Midnighter’s knees collapsed the first soldier’s left lung on impact after the bullet of his body blasted through the heavy machine gun. He pinned the gurgling man to the ground and his left hand had already knifed through the second guard’s kneecaps before any of the trio could react. The third man struggled to bring his weapon to bear, but Midnighter stabbed him through the bottom of the jaw with two fingers, shattering all of his teeth. A tap of the man’s temple and he was out cold.

He dropped the unconscious body. The other two convulsed on the ground from their injuries, and the other turrets were just starting to turn their weapons. Midnighter cracked a wry little smile. Those poor, poor, goddamn fools. Midnighter kicked a dropped handgun and it shot through the air, exploding across the chest of a guard on the other side of the castle.

The combat computer wired into his brain surged, calculating millions of probabilities at once -- Wind speeds, bullet trajectories, even factoring in the brain waves of all the soldiers within range. Suddenly, a variable Midnighter hadn't considered, a glint in the corner of his eye. He sidestepped and the spot where he had just stood exploded into a cloud of concrete chips. His eyes traced the smoke trail in the distance -- on the highest peak of the Castle was a man in green and black. Gunhawk. A low rent merc that Batman had beaten the shit out of a few times. Apparently not thoroughly enough. And where there is a Gunhawk, a Gunbunny is soon to follow.

Midnighter concluded that the tactical situation was deteriorating, and elbow dropped the wall below him. He blew through the concrete and into the rotting wooden flooring below him, the interior of the steel reinforced concrete walls. The sides were lined with crates of spare ammunition and rations, as well as a few boxes of spare weapons. The plink of sniper fire against the walls buzzed against Midnighter’s ears. They wouldn’t penetrate, but eventually the snipers would come to flush him out -- they wouldn’t get the chance. Midnighter grabbed a crate of MG ammo and hurled it at the top of the walls interior. The crate punched through the concrete like wet tissue paper, and a tangle of Vlatvavan soldiers tumbled through the opening, colliding into the assembled crates with fleshy smacks.

By now the sirens had started to blare across the Castle. How embarrassing, it took them ten seconds to actually raise the alarm. Midnighter hurled another box to fully disable the North sector of the wall as he considered his options. It’d take the gun-toting spandex fetishist and his sidekick a minute to get down from their perch and actually get eyes on him, and the soldiers were too green to actually draw a bead on him. A run across the courtyard it is.

In that instant, a man slid through the opposite wall like a knife through butter and cracked into Midnighter’s chest with a golden-armored shoulder.

“Hrrk-” Midnighter staggered and sized up his opponent. He was floating on two discs, and encased in a wreath of golden armor. Deadline. Just a few months ago he’d been assigned to assassinate a few Atlantean dignitaries, and got away before the League was on the scene. Now he was here on a literally golden platter.

“I guess it’s my birthday today.” Midnighter dove forward, and the assassin went intangible. So predictable. Sliding through an intangible person doesn’t feel good. You’re both there and not. Every one of your atoms gets a tickle, like feeling little fingers worm through your insides and molest your organs. Midnighter crashed into a pile of boxes as he landed, and tossed one of his escrima sticks back through Deadline. It didn’t take millions of calculations per second to get the rhythm of when an intangible idiot would shift back and forth.

“Oh, oh, God!” Deadline shuddered on his hover disks, wrenching at the escrima stick now fused with his stomach. It was a wonder he didn’t pass out from the pain.

“On your left.” Deadline’s head shot to the left, searching for the attack, but Midnighter’s palm strike slammed into the right side, detonating the assassin’s golden helmet into a million pieces. Classic. Midnighter yanked the killer’s plasma pistol from Deadline’s holster and jammed it into his belt. Could come in handy.

On the faintest reaches of his sense, Midnighter detected a rumble in the wall. A microsecond ago, someone had started plowing through it. The sound of flesh and bone grinding through steel and concrete, coming to pulverize his costumed head. The frustration of the combat computer was that at times his body could barely keep up with it’s raw processing speed. This was hit he’d have to take.

Two gargantuan arms as thick around as tree trunks plowed through the walls and hauled him through six inches of pain. Midnighter could barely make out a demon mask in the dusk of the concrete before he was shot putted across the courtyard.

Midnighter spit out a mouthful of blood onto the freshly mowed grass. Apparently the lawnkeeping was a little better on the inside. He pushed himself to his knees from his heap on the ground to see his attacker sauntering towards him.

NKVDemon was a slab of muscle that had more in common with a silverback gorilla than a man. He was a full head taller than Midnighter, wearing a kevlar weave bodysuit adorned with red ceramic armoring. His belt still wore the old Soviet Hammer and Sickle. He cracked his knuckles, it sounded like a gunshot.

“I vill snap your bones like twigs, Mydnyter.” His accent was almost as thick as his skull. Midnighter drew to his feet. All around them, the turrets were locked on his position, but the guns lay still. Gunhawk was still at his perch, sights locked on Midnighter’s masked head. Apparently the Demon would have something to prove.

“I don’t hurt pussies wearing Daddy’s underwear. Is KGBeast coming, or do I have to disembowel you first?” Midnighter pulled his other escrima stick.

“You Americans. You love to talk.” NKVDemon still marched forward at the same cadence. Apparently he thought his dick was so big that a few million calculations per second wouldn’t change how this fight went.

“I don’t even need this to fuck you up six ways to Sunday. I’m going to staple your testicles to your head and beat you like a pinata.” He snapped his escrima stick in half and discarded the pieces to either side.

With a smile, the russian dropped his elbow and charged. First mistake. Midnighter sidestepped as he past, and thrust down with his elbow. His opponent ate dirt and rolled, coming up in a crouching position a foot away. He swept out with his leg but Midnighter bunny hopped backwards, falling into a boxer’s stance.

Something a lot of civilians don’t understand about Superhero fights is the strength levels involved. You put two equally superstrong guys in a box and they start hitting each other, it isn’t what you see on cartoons. People aren’t sending each other flying, combatants aren’t knocking one another into the stratosphere. It’s just history of violence. Two guys just hitting each other.

NKVDemon got back to his feet and launched a flurry of punches. They were random, disorganized. Midnighter avoided each one, pushing them aside or outright dodging them as they came.

“You know something special about me, Demon? I can detect the electrical activity in your brain.” NKVDemon went for a right side haymaker, Midnighter stepped backwards.

“I know what moves you’re preparing to make. I’ve fought this fight already, in a million different ways. I can hit you without you even seeing me. I’m what soldiers dream of growing into.” Midnighter ducked under another haymaker from the left. NKVDemon brought both of his hands up, preparing to bring them down like a cudgel. Midnighter’s hands shot upwards, stabbing into the pressure points inside of his exposed armpits. NKVDemon’s arms fell to his sides like wet noodles.

“I’m what children see when they first imagine death. I’m Midnighter.” Midnighter grabbed Demon’s face thrust up with his knee. He felt the crunch of the killer’s nose and cheekbones against him. It felt good.

Midnighter fell to his back, pulling the unconscious form of NKVDemon over him. The gunners would hesitate to shoot their own man, if only for a second. He ignored the weight of the supersoldier pressing down on his lungs, and grabbed his broken escrima stick from the ground. He pitched them through the air, annihilating two more gun turrets and the pieces impacted like bombs. Six down, six to go.

Midnighter pushed the body off and rolled as the dirt around him began exploding into machine gun and sniper fire. Things were definitely too hot out here. The castle proper lay a few dozen yards in front of him. Huge oaken doors, intricately carved with ancient Vlatvian history represented his sanctuary. He sprinted forward, his boots tearing out chunks of lawn as he went. Bullets whizzed by, mere micrometers away. But it was enough.

A grenade landed at his feet. Midnighter rolled, scooped it up, and flung it high over the Castle. Gunhawk’s screams as he got a facefull of shrapnel were nearly drowned out by the chugging of the gunfire.

Midnighter smashed through the doors, obliterating what was certainly a centuries long chapter of Vlatvian history. He dove to the side as machine gun fire annihilated anything that was left of the carvings. The masonry would protect him from any more shots, but soon he’d have a cadre of soldiers coming in after him. That just wouldn’t stand. He pulled the plasma gun from his waistband and pulled the charge pack. He closed his eyes and waited for the perfect moment, for the probabilities in his head to perfectly align… Now.
Midnighter tossed the plasma pack into the open doorway and jumped as far into the entry hall as his legs would take him. A bullet sliced through the pack. A blossom of fire rushed from the hole and enveloped the doorway, the sound alone set Midnighter’s bones to rattling as the Castle itself groaned in protest. The doorway shuddered and collapsed, piling a miniature mountain of stonework over the entryway.

“Try shooting through that.” Finally a moment to breathe. The Castle’s layout hadn’t changed much since Midnighter was last here. They’d made a tokenistic effort to patch the hole in the roof of the Entrance Hall that Superman made busting inside, covered with an assembly of shipping palettes. The brickwork and the Vlatvian banners were still in tatters after their scuffle. Apparently The Count wasn’t much concerned about keeping a tidy home. The place was labyrinthine, six different hallways splayed out in different directions. Maybe Midnighter would know which way to go if the fucking Kryptonian hadn’t stopped him last time. It didn’t help that any singage that was present was certainly slagged by that last fight. If that meant he had to kill -- er, savagely beat -- an entire Castle to get to Vertigo, then so be it.

He set down the middle path first, listening for anything -- Voices, footsteps. He could hear the subtle creak of the Castle, stones shifting and settling still, after hundreds of years. The scurry of rats… There, at the edge of his range. The pitter-patter of a heartbeat.

“You idiots do realize that when you take these jobs, you’re accepting a paycheck in return for getting permanently crippled, right?” Midnighter’s voice boomed down the hallway, “and that’s if you’re fighting the Bat. I like to play with my food more.” He rounded a corner to see a woman in a red and black number, aiming down a rifle’s sights. She did her best to cover the as much of the narrow hallway as she could with her thin frame.

“You don’t scare me.” Midnighter could see her muscles tense and coil underneath the suit’s spandex. She pulled the gun closer to her face, framing it’s ironsight in her blue hair. Her heart beat faster, and Midnighter could already taste the sweat rolling down her forehead. Apparently Gunbunny was even less without her Gunhawk.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Well, that’s a lie, I really want to hurt you, but I get paid to say I don’t. Make my day.” His grin grew wider. Gunbunny was about to make a very stupid decision.

Midnighter was already moving before the first shot cracked out of the barrel. His right hand cleaved a hunk out of the wall and heaved it at Gunbunny. The assassin held up her rifle to block and the gunmetal crumpled instantly, absorbing the impact. Then Midnighter was unpon her. He grabbed her face in one hand and squeezed, starting to feel the gentle facturing of her skull -- He felt a handgun pressed in his ribcage.

“You want to bet you can pull that trigger faster than I can crush your brain?” Midnighter locked eyes with Gunbunny. Tears were streaming down her face -- He couldn’t tell if it was from pain or terror. The gun clattered to the ground.

“Smart girl.” Midnighter’s other hand slapped against her temple and she crumpled to the floor. It was a lie, but maybe it’d make her feel better about all the reconstructive surgery she’d need.

The room ahead had a door wreathed in gold. It was ornately decorated, with tie visages of kings and conquerors of Vlatvian past. In the center was a new addition, crudely carved by novice hand -- A simplistic and huge V, jutting out of the woodwork and slicing through the images of countless other leaders. This had to be the throne room.

Midnighter kicked open the door, scattering woodchips down the center carpet of the long hall. Vertigo sat in the end, in a throne with a back many times taller than him. A tawdry golden crown was askew on his head; it clashed with the green of the cape that lay ruffled around him. It was almost too easy. But his combat computer was clean… The only threat was Vertigo’s ‘effect’ as he called it, but it’s power dropped off at range, and the hall was long enough. Child's’ play.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” Midnighter cracked his knuckles. He could imagine Vertigo’s blood running down them; the crunch of his form beneath Midnighter’s knuckles… This would be glorious.

“As have I.” Vertigo smiled deeply, not moving from his chair. Maybe he wanted to accept his beating like a man, instead of kicking and screaming like an impudent whelp.

In that moment Midnighter’s world exploded into color. His vestibular fluid felt like it was trying to escape his head, and his brain pounded like bad nightclub music. The feeling seemed to sear across his mind and body, his [i]soul[/] everything that Midnighter was. He wanted to crumple to his knees, but any sense of direction left him. Everything was up, down, left, and right. The world had been swallowed up and vomited back out in the wrong order. As massive arms closed around him in a headlock, Midnighter could hear a voice, floating all around him. It had a familiar Vlatvian accent.

“Excellent work, Abracadabra. You’ve earned that bonus. Hold him still, KGBeast. I get the first shot.”
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Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Dblade26
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H U B C I T Y , A M E R I C A:

May 13th, 2019 - 11:43 PM |Ted Kord's Penthouse Suite|Uptown

It was late, and Ted Kord was just about beat from a long day of science and occasional business meetings. He couldn't send Tracey to every one of them on his behalf and still actually run and own the company after all, even if she had a better head for business. Still, it had been an exhausting day either way, Ted was grateful he hadn't had to put any Blue Beetle duties ontop of it and was ready to just go to bed and start over in the morning.

Riiiiiight after a quick midnight snack.

Ted crept down to his kitchen and opened up the fridge, rummaging around for a bit, only to hear someone rattle something behind him in the dark. Ted grabbed up the nearest object that looked like it might serve as a weapon and whirled around to confront his attacker.

Unfortunately for Ted, the closest object at hand happened to be a full-sized smoked salami he'd grabbed from the meat drawer.

"Stay back! Whoever you are I'm warning you, I'm well armed!" Ted yelled, waving the cured meat product ominously at the darkness.

Damn. He was hoping he was being more quiet. It wasn't like his goal was to hide from Kord, but then again he would've preferred to scare the daylights out of him with his sudden appearance. Then again, that seemed to be the effect he had by accidentally bumping into that table.

Well, better to step out of the shadows.

"Well that's-*cough*-not very nice, Beetle," Question said, limping towards Ted Kord. "... I could really use your help, if the blood's not telling."

Ted's initial reaction to a bleeding, faceless man in his penthouse asking for help was to drop the sausage and offer whatever help he could. "Of course. I don't have any equipment here but there's an emergency medical bay in the- wait, Beetle?" He froze for a second, as the words sunk in, then smacked his forehead. "Oh COME ON! You get past my security systems AND you already know my secret identity?! I mean, I guess it can wait until we're sure you aren't hemorrhaging internally but how is that fair?!"

Without waiting for an answer, the frustrated Ted Kord started tapping on his wristwatch, summoning the Bug out of storage and instructing it to enter Stealth Mode and fly to meet them at Ted's balcony at maximum safe speed.

"So, did you just come here for free healthcare and crap coffee? Because I should probably warn you, technically none of my degrees are medical and my espresso machine turned sentient last week and keeps demanding a pay raise. Never bring your prototypes into the kitchen." He arched an eyebrow at the faceless detective, pulling up a chair for him and then busying himself throwing away the ruined food/improvised baton.

Question collapsed into the chair, grunting in pain as he slowly massaged his temples. "It wasn't hard, Beetle," Question replied to Ted's earlier comment, a hint of insufferable smugness creeping into his tone, "Just had to look at the financial history of Kord industries and recall the times you've gotten new gadgets."

"... But more importantly, I need help for more than just this." He gestured to his wounds and the blood soaking his clothing. "Not sure if you know, but I had a run-in over a decade ago with a maniac calling himself the Banshee... I thought he was dead, killed in a bus crash transferring him to Blackgate... Guess I was wrong."

The faceless vigilante looked into Ted's eyes. "I can't exploit any of his old weaknesses. He upgraded his suit, too, has a sonic attack fitting of his namesake. I need help for more than just the wounds, Beetle. I need your help in taking him down."

Ted almost went into a not very heroic sulk at the Question's implication that figuring out his identity was easy. He'd have to remember to obfuscate his purchases more when it came to designing his gear. So far he'd relied on the excuse that he was doing work on advanced R&D prototypes and that was...well, technically true. A lot of the tech he'd developed for use as the Beetle got further developed and redesigned for future mass production. But the fact that he'd been this careless seriously threw him for a loop.

But what the faceless vigilante said next changed everything. In spite of how serious the situation was, Ted could feel himself grinning and holding in chuckles, positively giddy and a little incredulous."You need my help? On like...a case? A case-case, catching a criminal, not just patching you up or fixing your laptop or like, building stuff for you? I don't believe it! I can't believe it! It's just...you're The Question! You've been in the hero game since I graduated High School! Half the criminals in the Hub are afraid to admit you exist! You peer into the hearts of men and judge them, and then if you don't like what you find you beat them up or melt off their faces! I mean I don't believe you really do that but they do! One time, I sneaked up on a bank robber who just thought I might be you and he literally crapped his pants! You really need me on this one?!"

Ted paused from his hero-worshiping rant, sobering up as he considered the implications.

"Oh, crap. You really need me on this one. Right. Well, I already have some ideas for how to deal with a sonic weapon. Don't worry, we'll get this guy!" Ted tried to sound more positive than he felt, though planning out a design that could baffle the banshee at least prevented him from outright panicking or sinking into despair.

Question couldn't help but feel his self esteem inflate at Beetle's gushing. Well, he supposed he was pretty badass... But of course, he cut off that train of thought; arrogance only leads to weakness.

As Beetle calmed himself and reassured Question that they would catch the Banshee, Q felt himself relax, if only a little. Sure, he might not have been able to catch the Banshee himself what with his lack of high-tech gadgetry, but with Beetle's help and resources they could easily take down the seemingly resurrected villain. "Nice to hear your enthusiasm."

Standing up, the Question took a moment to steady himself, before rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension in them. "Before we do anything though, I'm... Definitely gonna need at least some painkillers for my injuries. The Banshee did a number on me." He looked around the penthouse, who knows for what.

"Well, every superhero has a secret base, and I'm going to assume you're smart enough to not hide an entrance to your secret base in your apartment. So, the question is... Where is that secret base?"

"I mean, one advantage of being so involved in helping to rebuild Hub City was setting up the occasional secret base. But when I can't reach them or if I need to get ready in a hurry..."

Right on cue, a giant, beetle-shaped airship descended to hover right outside the balcony on the other side of the kitchenette, dropped stealth mode and filled the dark room with blue light.

"...Then I prefer to travel in style! Bwah-hahaha!~"

As blue light filled the room, the Question turned to look at the source, and his jaw nearly dropped in awe at the airship. He had heard about it, even seen it once or twice, but up close... It was breathtaking.

And he wasn't feeling jealous. Not at all.

"... You really know how to make a guy feel inadequate, eh?"
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Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Avanhelsing
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Gotham City / United States of America:

June 23th, 2018 - 19:35 | The Kane Ballroom - Gotham Heights






The night had been going far better than Liam expected that it would. So far, no one had tried to drive him out of the building with pitch forks or torches. Things were turning up for the better as he managed to keep relatively calm and not summon any beasts from the lowest hell. Things could be so much worse for Liam. He could have made a fool of himself. Then up strode Bruce Wayne. Things could turn on the head of pin right now and it all depended on which one of Liam "Masks" he was going to wear. There were so many different faces that he needed to wear at one time. For now he had to be Gotham's prodigal son or Lazarus returned from the the pit. Either way, he had to hide who he truly was and that bothered him. Still this was Bruce Wayne.

" Oh, Mister Wayne! It is just wonderful to be back. If you have time I would like to talk..." He said as the lights went out and all hell broke loose. Liam didn't look for too long as suddenly the Batman showed up in the same room as Bruce Wayne. All of his theroies about the true identity of the Batman went out the door. He was about to do something when the shots started. Things were just going to hell. Liam ran out the door towards the bathroom pulling his mask out of the pocket of his suit. To most people it looked like an old dish rag but it was so much more. Liam placed the mask on his face as he moved his hands to start the spell. If anyone say it, his hands would like insane hand movements. As he did that, Liam started to mumble in Latin.

"Et abscondam faciem meam ad peto obumbratio." He said as the mask shimmered and the spell took shape. Liam suddenly would cease to exist and he would be Kid Solomon. Liam ran into the room just as the batarang flew through the air. Liam raised his hand and quickly stammered a spell in Greek. His Greek was not great but the magic worked at least.

"Προστατέψτε τον! Εγώ διαταζώ!" He yelled as the Commissioner would be pulled to the side away from the approaching bat thing. It was all Liam could do without more time to plan. He turned his attention to the Batman. "I could have sworn you were a good guy. I might have been wrong though. How's about you go after people who can actually fight instead of old men." He taunted as he hoped the others would stop the thing from killing him instantly.

Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by WXer
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Gotham City / United States of America:

June 23th, 2018 - 19:41 | The Kane Ballroom - Gotham Heights


Jim Gordon's life started flashing before his eyes as the Batman charged at him. However, two separate interventions would occur during his moment of crisis. A projectile had been thrown with such grace, precision and force that the Dark Knight was knocked back a few steps. Before the commissioner could do anything else, he was then pulled by an unknown force to the side which left him in a state of confusion and relief. As he was being dragged to safety though, a young lady had rushed in to where he had just stood. "Watch out!" he would yell while being flown away. The Batman would then grip the flechette that was stuck in his neck.

-snikt-

As if it was a simple splinter, he had removed it. No blood was drawn but a hole was clearly left where Thea had successfully targeted. However, their foe didn't reform his wound. In fact, he started to melt along with his costume into a slime-like substance. "I AM THE NIGHT!" yelled the unstable mold of Batman while raising his fist in the air. This was no simple warcry however as the dead policemen and party guests had risen, their eyes completely white while their veins were popping out near their shrapnel wounds. These cadaver puppets would then rush at Jim Gordon and Kid Solomon, while Batman would trudge towards Thea. With each step, his maw would get wider and his growls more fierce. The Batman was going to feast on Gotham's elite, starting with Jim Gordon's foolish saviors.
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Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by The Angry Goat
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Bludhaven // USA:

May 16th, 2019 - 10:00 AM // Saalima's Apartment// It Always Goes Deeper


Saalima woke to her alarm with a start. She forgot it was Thursday... she was supposed to stream in an hour, and she still had so much to do in the meantime. She started some hot water for tea, and made some ramen, holding another ice pack up on her head with her powers as she did so. She'd need to catch up with a few of her street contacts. She also wanted to get whatever info she could on that cop who didn't report her to the others. Carl was his name, and it was relatively easy to find him in the employment records. She'd made a public request for information a year ago, and there was a Carl on the list of employees - she'd have to check later to see if it was the same guy. But first, she needed to make some money.

Bludhaven // USA:

May 16th, 2019 - 9:00 PM // Saalima's Apartment// It Always Goes Deeper


Waking up from a quick nap, Saalima donned her dress. looking out the window, she did a quick check to make sure no one was looking before putting on her headscarf and darting out the window. Trevor usually slept near the Baily Church, and he was one of her strongest leads - able to pick up gossip from some of the darker parts of street life. He also told her things without charge, generally. She decided to start her patrol in that area, and eventually came across her friend, lounging in a back alley next to the church's dumpster. She floated down and lounged across the alleyway from him.

"Good to see you're still around. Caused quite a stir last night, you did..." he trailed off for a bit, looking intently at something that wasn't really there. "I ain't really got that much for ya here, unfortunately. Only thing I got for ya are rumors of a metahuman called Tusk organizing some shit. No idea if he's connected to whatever you got up to with that fiddler though."

"Haven't heard of Tusk either... any locations? times? goals?"

"Whatever he's going for, he's keeping it quiet"

She nodded, and flew away. The name meant nearly nothing, but it was a starting point - she'd have to start drawing information out of criminals she ran into. She passed by the park concert a few minutes later, and it seemed to be going fine. She imagined that whatever was planned she was able to thwart the previous day. Her patrol continued relatively uneventful - the one drug deal she did run into was a pretty easy job to take care of, and she was sure that the dealer would think twice about pulling a gun on her in the future, especially since the arm he did it with wouldn't be very useful for a few months.

The comparative peace of that night, however, was broken by a small explosion over in the Caernaervon section. She quickly made her way over to the area. the source of the sound seemed to have come from a bank, which seemed just about right based on the large hole taken out of the wall of the building. She'd have to take this cautiously - that was not small scale weaponry. turns out the bank was rather small, though, and she floated in just in time to see a man shoving his...pelvis into the last keyhole of the safe, surrounded by 4 guards armed with what looked like metal dildos? The ghostly figure, previously unseen hovering above the robbers burst out laughing. They looked up,
perplexed and surprised "I...HAHA...I can't believe... I get to have... one of those villains...with an idiotic theme...HAHAHAHA! What are you compensating for little man."

"Get her!" The man with the pelvic tool yelled to his guards, who immediately threw their weapons at her, drawing more. she easily deflected all of them, and telekinetically sucker punched the closest one. he took it surprisingly well, but a few more hard shoves with her powers made short work of him. turns out it's hard to fight invisible waves of force. Ghost was immediately suspicious, as she deflected the next wave of dildos and started beating down on the next one from range. This was way too easy. way too... comically villainous. What was its purpose? The third martial artist was down - she was able to get a good focused hit in on his left kneecap, so he wasn't going much of anywhere for a while - and the man finally turned around, vault open. "I'd fight you, but I have bigger needs. come to think of it, so do you" He said, looking pointedly out the windows. she turned around to see 6 more men armed like his guards, setting the apartment complex across the street on fire. She was out the door and over there like a flash - There were people in there - people who needed help.
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WEIRDER THINGS
pt. 2


Metropolis / United States:

May 17th, 2019 - 04:03 PM | Metro Tower - Midtown

Featuring: @Zero Hex as Mr. Terrific


The long elevator ride finally came to an end. Comet could hear it begin to slow down as it reached the bottom level of the Metro Tower. He stepped out of the sliding doors and walked down the long hallway along the side of the colosseum like area. Making his way towards the viewing room and control station he passed several small windows along the side of the War Room that more or less helped with airing the place out should anybody use gas based attacks be it the high tech holo-droids or the heroes themselves. The setting looked like a wrecked downtown area during the night time. There were fires, smoke, holographic civilians in peril, the hard light projectors could make it look like anything. Hollywood would kill for this sort of technology and atmosphere.

As Adam Blake made his way into the viewing room he could tell that Robotman had been wrong about who was down here. Comet expected to see Booster Gold and Blue Beetle, however what appeared to be kicking ass in the simulation was Mister Terrific. There were several viewing screens showing the War Room from different camera angles in the room, a water dispenser, several chairs, as well as an entrance into the control booth. When Comet entered the viewing room the timer read less than five minutes were left in the session and three civilians had yet to be rescued with one enemy left to be defeated and one ally still standing.

Michael Holt, Mister Terrific himself, was in a most unheroic position at the moment, hanging head down from a suspended cable a few feet up in the air with only his own feet saving him from plummeting face-first into concrete. Rather than distressed or troubled, however, the World’s Greatest Athlete looked amused, downright smiling with his arms crossed nonchalantly, and he held on strong despite the clear sway of the line barely holding his weight aloft. And upon closer inspection Comet might be able to tell that the would be hero was not only observing his artificial teammate engage with the enemy, he was humming something to himself under his breath.

“When a problem comes along, you must whip it...”

Battling on the dark street, kicking up the water sprayed by a busted hydrant as they dipped, dived, ducked and dodged around each other in a bizarre, manic struggle, were virtual representations of The Whip Shelly Gaynor and the villainess Syonide. Both women, clad in their “less than modest” costumes and armed solely with their long and flexible lashes, kept their distance as they tried to match each other's movements, looking to time the crack of their whip to the moment their rival was busy retracting her own. For a life and death struggle it was equal parts dance-like and almost comical, though the mother and two young children cowering in a shattered storefront nearby certainly didn’t seem entertained.

“THREE MINUTES REMAINING” blared the intercom, as it had every 60 seconds since the five minute mark.

Though Syonide’s electric whip was a non-factor with both of them prancing around ankle-deep in water, the simulation data pegged her as more experienced than Gaynor who had seemingly retired early into her career. Adjusting her plan to suit the coming end of the scenario, the villainess began slowly reducing the distance between them and finally seemed to slip up. Shelly’s whip cracked and wrapped itself around Syonide’s, pulling it back towards the heroine who seemed to positively beam at the prospect of victory in this near mirror match. She did not see the opening for the feint it was, didn’t realize the extra weight and tangled scourges made her return slower and clumsier.

“Oooh that’s a wrap there.” called Terrific, finally letting himself drop. Rather than a breakneck tumble the hero descended with practiced, almost gravity-defying grace, flipping his body over mid-air to stick a perfectly balanced landing on his feet. World’s Greatest Athlete, and it was indeed a wrap. Before Gaynor could ready her weapon once more Syonide had closed the distance between them, dropping the unpowered heroine with a faceful of loosened pavement slab and clinching the deal via one mean punt to her downed opponent. Focusing on a lone weapon to the exclusion of all else had plenty of issues, but it’d been an enlightening look at whip combat for Michael.

“TWO MINUTES REMAINING!”, blared the intercom once more as Terrific dusted himself off and advanced confidently.

Syonide had recovered her own whip and taken The Whip’s as well, and now she approached the last remaining civilians with weapons in hand and clear ill intentions in mind, perhaps looking to take out the frustrations of her battle on someone who couldn’t fight back. And that’s about as far as she got before a python-strong arm wrapped wrapped itself around her neck and another pushed her head down, steel-strong biceps and forearm applying irresistible pressure to her carotid arteries and restricting blood flow to the brain. In less than 10 seconds the rear naked choke had done its work and Syonide was out cold, and Mister Terrific let her limp body fall to pose arms-spread for the “cameras” of the observation window.

“HOSTILES ELIMINATED, CIVILIANS SECURE, TARGET OF OPERATION CLEARED. SYSTEM SWITCH TO STANDBY MODE!”

With a satisfied, confident look on his face and a relaxed stroll, Terrific left the now void grey room and made his way to the observation deck, knowing he was being watched but with no idea who it was. “Hahahaaa, hell of a rig you’ve got going on here. Not quite the real thing but you can set up some crazy scenes huh?” he spoke out without even looking at who he was talking to.

There it was again. When the Comet looked at the monitors of Terrific’s victory he could see the wandering left eye of the Weird. From different angles. This had to be real, didn’t it? The Comet hoped to catch good vibes from Terrific going in, but was a bit puzzled the new hero chose to also entertain himself with a pair of buxom women in somewhat suggestive clothing and bearing whips. If his mind wasn’t all over the place Comet might have had a different opinion, he just happened to be in the middle of a mental meltdown. When the hero exited the War Room and complimented the facility, Adam just kinda spoke telepathically entering the room in a hurry having already programmed the next simulation.

“It isn’t anything like what I’ve seen in space…” he projected with his mind in passing.

He lifted himself in the air and suddenly the room went black. Stars began shimmering in the artificial sky and it was clear Comet wanted to be at home again in space. The void was calming, and the surrounding asteroids provided sufficient target practice. He projected himself across several space sectors where months before joining the JLU the Weird saw his untimely death at the hands of a blue skinned man who just waved his hand.

“There’s nothing left of him. The guilt must be getting to me. Never figured out who or what that blue skinned man was. The League’s files have nothing on him, even their records about the known Multiverse…” Adam Blake thought to himself before activating a new scenario in the War Room. “Control Panel… load scene C-4. Difficulty set at eight. Five enemies. One star cruiser.”

The War Room began shifting somewhat, however remaining in a space environment, until a large bus sized personal Thanagarian star cruiser materialized with nearly a half dozen wingmen soldiers like those the founding five Leaguers faced years earlier.

- Ω / Hex
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P A S T


G O T H A M C I T Y:

June 23rd, 2018 - 18:27 | Kane Ballroom - Gotham Heights

From a certain point of view her shot had failed, but to Rose it was a complete success. Bruce Wayne had been freed and the alleged Batman had been revealed as a fake. She had seen the shoulder take the impact of the bullet before reforming. While the loss of the lives of the nearby officers was unfortunate, they were Gotham cops. So it wasn’t quite as devastating as innocent bystanders.

Not that there were many in Gotham.

Before coming to Gotham, Rose had done her research. It didn’t take much to find the numerous headlines filled with the horror of the acts committed by Gotham’s Most Wanted. She had seen more than enough reports on the Joker to know that Arkham’s revolving doors spun both ways. Armed with a fairly thorough understanding of Gotham’s Worst, Rose had a hunch on who was impersonating the Bat, she only needed to perform one other test.

Vaulting over the edge of the roof, Rose slid down the rough surface, using whatever means were readily available to safely traverse to ground level. Toggling her weapon’s fire select from single shot to burst, Rose rushed towards the gala. Firing a spray of shots towards the Walking Dead's newest cast members, Rose made a beeline towards the woman in red. Shoving the woman out of harm's way, the assassin pointed her gun towards the Bat-Fake and opened fire. Shot after shot burst from the barrel as Rose walked backwards away from the advancing foe. Cocking her weapon's grenade launcher, Rose released the shot before jumping off the table she was currently standing on and kicking it onto its side before ducking behind it.

"Fuckin' run!" She hissed at the woman in the red dress as she peeked around the table to ensure their foe as down.

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