miss maggie (
bossymarmalade) wrote in
thejusticelounge2012-06-15 08:56 pm
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Entry tags:
- clark kent (superman),
- connor hawke (green arrow),
- damian wayne (robin),
- edward nygma (the riddler),
- gar logan (beast boy),
- j'onn j'onzz (martian manhunter),
- jack ryder (creeper),
- jason todd (red hood),
- kara kent (supergirl),
- kate spencer (manhunter),
- kyle rayner (green lantern),
- npc:alfred pennyworth,
- plot:2012c eden corps,
- roy harper (red arrow),
- selina kyle (catwoman),
- stephanie brown (batgirl),
- ted grant (wildcat),
- tim drake (red robin),
- wally west (the flash)
eden corps
A scream spills from a Metropolis alleyway. Police cordoned off the area. Investigators find the headless corpse of a young female. The body is nearly bloodless, indicating the murder took place somewhere else. The decapitating cut is jagged and rough. At least four distict sets of footprints, heavy and male, surround the body. The alley wall has a spray painted message: (Long Live the “Queen”! - E.C.) The victim’s fingerprints reveal her name: Mia Queen, a 16 year old runaway from Bludhaven.
Superman is grim and silent as he surveys the decapitated body. His penetrative vision looks past the lifeless flesh of the young girl, isolates the fractured bones beneath her skin and the blood under her fingernails. She put up a struggle. She fought for her life, and she lost.
Studying her vocal cords confirms to Clark that the scream he heard wasn’t issued by Mia Queen. Hers are too short, too tight for that resonant blast that broke the still night, and the feeling behind it had been all wrong. Years of listening had made Clark sensitive to the distinctions between human bellows, between the enraged yell of a domestic dispute, the amused shriek of a startling prank, or the wail of someone who truly needed his help. The cry that brought him down from the sky tonight was full of horror, but low with repulsion: an observer who happened to discover the body.
The strangled scream of someone struggling to stave off death was something that couldn’t be faked well enough to fool Superman anymore. She wasn’t killed on the streets of Metropolis, or he would have heard the unmistakable cry.
“Mia Queen,” he murmurs as he reviews the victim identification report. He thinks at once of Oliver and his daughter Mia. Was someone trying to send them a message? Someone who knew their secret identities? E.C. Clark ponders the initials for a moment, but they don’t ring any bells.
It serves Superman well in this moment to be trusted by the Metropolis police department. They agree without reservation to supply him with a copy of their case file. Clark returns home to scan and forward the contents of the file to Batman, and to alert Oliver of the victim’s name in a separate e-mail. “It may be a coincidence,” he concludes each correspondence, “but in our line of work, it rarely is.”
Found on a fence pike outside the Hawaii State Capitol Building in Honolulu is a human female head. The head is adorned with a green, metallic crown made of arrow heads welded together. The head’s mouth is sewn shut. Inside the mouth is a note which reads: (Long Live the “Queen”! – E.C.) Analysis of the head will reveal it to belong to Mia Queen, a runaway from Bludhaven whose murdered body was recently found in Metropolis.
On a downtown billboard advertising the latest cheeseburger creation, a message is written: (Long Live the “Queen”, but not his friends! – E.C.) The “s” at the end of “friends” is the familiar s-shield worn by the Kryptonians. The letters appear rust brown in color but upon close inspection can be clearly seen to be written in blood. DNA analysis will reveal the blood as belonging to a murder victim found beheaded in Metropolis.
Kara floated in twilight, which was her favourite time of day after riding the Serpent, and surveyed the billboard. “I really liked the Superbacon Supreme, too. Now it’s all bloody, and not in the good way, and it’s just…ruined.” She pouted, pulling her phone out of the pocket of her jeans. Now, which one would she contact? It was a surprise Kal hadn’t seen this already, it was on their home turf after all.
Her finger hovered over the call button for just a second, before she changed her mind and redialed. “Hey, Kal, we have a…thing. Written all over my favourite fast food joint’s billboard. It smells like this ain’t just red paint, and they used the El symbol. I’m texting you a pic, and the location.” She hung up, slightly ticked that she had reached a voicemail, but hey they were busy folk the children of El.
She took a picture with her phone, and sent it to both Batman and Clark with the location, as well as with a plea for Batman to bring her a milkshake from her favourite joint in Gotham. She was a growing girl, and she needed her sugar.
Arriving with the assortment of items delivered to Alfred's kitchen is a plain sealed envelope taped behind the lettuce crate. Inside is a picture of Queen Elizabeth II smiling, her eyes cut out and her throat slashed. On the back of the picture, written in blood, is the phrase: (Long Live the "Queen", But Not His Friends - E.C.) DNA analysis would determine the blood belongs to a teenage runaway named Mia Queen,of Bludhaven, recently found murdered in Metropolis. No other traces are found.
Alfred took a look at the envelope. It was strange that the items he had ordered was delivered to the watchtower since he was careful to not have his master associated with the league any more than the investment he had put into building the structure that is used as their headquarters and base of operations.
He carefully peeled open the envelope with the silver letter opener he had always carried inside his jacket’s pocket. Just as carefully he removed the photo and realized the threat it had, he flipped it over and read the statement in the back. The man was quite flabbergasted but knew how to keep his cool under the situation and had done so.
He slowly stood up and made his way to the lab, it was time he had his master involved with the league once more, this time to solve the mystery behind the mysterious blood and threat towards Master Oliver Queen.
Alfred began to scan the image and blood into the system, trying to find out just who it was used as ‘sacrifice’ for the bloodied threat, as he immediately worked on sending his master all and everything he knew of it.
A medium sized steel box painted red with a picture of a Robin painted in black on its lid is left in front of a statue at Gotham University. The box is padlocked. Inside the box is a bloody jambiya. DNA analysis will reveal the blood to belong to Mia Queen whose body was recently discovered in Metropolis. Criminal forensics will determine this to be the murder weapon used to kill her. No note, no other evidence exists within or around the box.
Tim is cautious about handling the box, clearly left for him to find. He runs one finger over the painted robin, but there is no residue on his gauntlet, the pain long since dry.
Carefully he picks the lock, opening it slowly in case it’s booby trapped. Nothing happens, so he picks up the dagger, examining it. Clicking his comm link, he messages Bruce. “Got something. You should see this.” He then packs up the blade and box, heading back towards the manor.
The screws holding the vent grate in Selina’s ceiling slowly twist out and fall to the floor drawing the attention of the black cat in the room who rises to investigate. The vent grate opens and a small, canvas bag drops to the center of the floor. The grate is pulled shut again but the screws remain on the floor. The bag falls open and three Brazilian Wandering Spiders crawl out, each one clearly agitated from the trip. The spiders sense the cat and begin making their way towards it.
Isis leaned back, watching the spiders crawl closer. She hissed at the spiders, body arching into a threatening position. The spiders stopped and rose to their hind legs, waving their front legs in the air. Isis growled and stalked a wide circle around them, the spiders turning to face her as she moved.
Isis yowled, keeping her distance from the spiders. From across the apartment came the echoed yowls of other cats, cats crawling out of dark corners and off of balconies, climbing in through the windows and up from the alleys. Within seconds, the spiders were surrounded by cats. These things were going to hurt their Momma.
These things would pay.
One of the spiders skittered toward Isis and was immediately attacked by a brown tabby. Two calicoes launched onto another spider, clawing at it, and viciously tearing it apart. The last spider was locked in a dance with a young Siamese, the cat darting back and forth to aggravate it. The spider caught hold of it, preparing to sink its fangs into the cat, when Isis leapt on it, tearing off a leg. The other cats quickly swarmed over the spiders, only settling once the last spider stopped twitching.
Maven walked into the room, concerned about the amount of noise from the cats, and froze in the doorway. Isis was sitting behind the spider carcasses, calmly grooming herself as the other cats went back to their respective places, content in the knowledge that Momma was safe. Maven’s eye twitched slightly.
“What…happened?”
Isis looked up at her and held out a paw. “Gurrrrrrrrrl, you don’ wanna know!” She went back to cleaning her paws. “You bes’ get Momma on the phone, tho’, gurl. Iss gettin’ srs up in hurr.”
MSG: Riddler – we have watched you for many years and have admired your work in the past. Your position within the pantheon of so-called heroes, especially your past clashes with the Detective, now affords you a unique opportunity to be a part of a grander life, one not so short sighted as your Justice League’s. Some of us are already there with you. You are not alone. Do not reveal this message. We will contact you again soon...
Edward stared at the strange message, chewing his lip a moment. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was an invitation, clearly, but whether good or bad he was having a hard time sorting out. Sliding into a chair, he poured over it, checking the syntax, the lines, the numbering, ANYTHING that might have some altered meaning.
And came up empty.
Running a hand through his hair, he realized it was shaking. He curled his fingers into a tight first, trying to calm his nerves. Whatever this mysterious missive was, there was little he could do about it right now. Well, save wait…and wonder.
MSG: Red Hood – we have watched you for many years and have admired your work in the past. Your position within the pantheon of so-called heroes, especially your connection to the Detective, now affords you a unique opportunity to be a part of a grander life, one not so short sighted as your Justice League’s. Some of us are already there with you. You are not alone. Do not reveal this message. We will contact you again soon...
Jason stared at the note in his inbox.
His PERSONAL email - it wasn’t like anyone knew it. He frowned, even harder. Considering the shit going on he only knew peripherally about (he couldn’t avoid it, there were people running around the tower and he could HEAR it…) Jason had a feeling this wasn’t… good news.
It was also incredibly creepy. Jason frowned and saved a copy of it. Maybe he should show it to Guy.
or B. Or both of them. They’d know what to do about it - Jason was very sure he didn’t want naything to do with a shadow organisation like this.
"MSG: Harley Quinn – we have watched you for many years and have admired your work in the past. Your position within the pantheon of so-called heroes, especially your past clashes with the Detective, now affords you a unique opportunity to be a part of a grander life, one not so short sighted as your Justice League’s. Some of us are already there with you. You are not alone. Do not reveal this message. We will contact you again soon..."
Harley gets very little traffic going on up on the Tower so when a message gets sent through her tablet while she’s playing Action Potato, she ignores it. But the message kills her last can and she pouts before double clicking the home page to touch the messages symbol. Reading it to herself she looks up, narrowing her eyes before searching for any sorts of bugs in her room before giving up and returning to her game.
Whatever the message was for, they better not screw up her next game or she’d start snapping some necks.
We know you can see and hear what is going on. We are moving against the League without you. You are not a part of our plans little man. We are greater than you can imagine. Stay out of this fight. It is not yours. You may help yourself to the pieces when we are through.
Roman read the message and his eyes flashed with anger, had he not been in this stinking hell hole they call the brig, he would have made his way to Gotham and figured out just what the hell is going on.
He wasn’t anyone small or easy to mess with, Roman was a key player in Gotham’s underground and here he was not even being considered to take care in the challenge that was the mysterious Eden Corp who was fucking things amongst the Leaguers.
His charred like eyebrows furrowed and a snarl escaped his lips.
“‘Stay out of this fight. It is not yours,’ they say. I’ll show you just what Roman Sionis is capable of!” The man was shouting inside of his cell when the thought hit him, it’s not the Eden Corps that were sending these messages.
It must have been a third party, someone that knew who the SeRVE members are plus their status within SeRVE. He was very much aware that all of the other members other than himself had obtained a message to join the fight against the League but all of those that received an invitation were all loyal to the League due to personal relations.
Every single one of the stinkin’ SeRVE members other than Black Mask were loyal to those fuckers. All of which received some kind of invitation. But yet the only member that would happily accept the invitation had received none.
Knocking against the glass loudly, he began to shout so someone would hear him. “LET ME OUT OF HERE YOU STINKING HEROES. I THINK I CAN HELP YOU FIGURE OUT WHO’S DOING ALL OF THIS. OPEN UP! I MIGHT HAVE A LEAD ON WHO’S DOING ALL OF THIS.”
He wasn’t going to stop until someone turned up, even if his voice turned out hoarse and his arms numb.
MSG: The time to strike is nigh brother! Join us again. The Master will welcome you back with open arms. We will all soon be victorious together…
Damian rolls his eyes at the text on his phone. Maybe Grayson or one of the other boys trying to prank him. They enjoy such foolish distractions.
he texts back, and he deletes the original message without dwelling on it any further.
The little Bat doesn’t want to play? She’d rather hide behind her Daddy’s cape? How spoiled! We thought we had a clue that you were a real hero, not just some junior varsity wannabe. We will give you a second chance though - come alone to the following coordinates (44.5903° N, 104.7153° W) and meet with our representative from inside your League. Hear his offer. You may be surprised by the answers you seek.
Steph begrudgingly arrives at the coordinates given to her. She didn’t go out of pride or anger, she went to get to the bottom of this mess. Sending out a message to to Ollie, Bruce, Kyle, and Guy that if she didn’t contact them in fifteen minutes to come and help her, Batgirl entered the area, poised and alert.
Hanging from a noose tied to the clock tower outside of the Gotham City Public Library Main Branch is a stuffed, man-sized dummy. The Dummy’s skin is painted yellow, it wears a green wig. A thick, red boa rests on its shoulders. The Dummy’s eyes are carved out. Inside the left socket is a set of 12 playing cards, Ace through King of Hearts but missing the Queen. The right socket is left empty. No evidence exists as to who hung it.
….Man at least it isn’t Scarface this time. That dummy’s gone through a lot of crap lately. Hmm guy didn’t even put detail into my body.
(Voice Mail) Hello Mr. Lantern, um, Rayner? My name is Arin Coleman and I work with the LAPD. We’ve actually spoken briefly. I was part of the unit at the recent, um, attempt at Rancho Colina Elementary and I am so sorry to her that Ms. Spencer, well, that’s not why I’m calling anyway. I was actually calling to inquire about renting a room for a party at Warriors next weekend for some friends – about 15 of us. Do you guys offer that? Can you contact me at the station with any info? Thanks! Bye!
Kyle phoned the Sergeant back, and was relieved to find it went to her voicemail. “Hello ah, Sergeant…Coleman? Coleman, yeah, ummm…” Kyle hated being on the phone, even moreso now that he was a Lantern. Ring communication was just so much more cleaner. “Yeah thank you for the call, this line isn’t really for personal calls but, um. Ah. Ahhh. Er. Ummm I don’t think we’re capable yet of running private functions, lo siento. Y gracias. Y…thanks for keeping the city safe. And okay. Okay. Adios.”
Kyle swiftly put the phone back in its cradle and made a mental note to talk to Guy about functions and all that jazz.
An alert light blinks on Kate Spencer’s WE Tablet computer. Logging on, she will discover a message from an undisclosed sender containing three picture files: One of Ramsey and Peter walking down a street at a Victoria Day street fair celebration. The second is of Bear Woman speaking to Sporrun outside near a large pine tree. The last is of Lian Harper playing and smiling in a Star City park. The message contains these words: "None are safe..."
The message couldn’t have appeared at a worse time for Kate, not long after she’d received a different but particular message, and in the middle of a mutually furious back and forth with Hal. Or maybe it couldn’t have appeared at a better time.
After everything that had happened (Kate’d been keeping a metaphorical ear to the ground to Tower chatter, knew about what had been found in Keystone and Metropolis and at the dam), she found the message to be almost astoundingly tame. That was the worrisome part—they didn’t need to be more explicit, leave a package or image that was the product of a twisted mind, any fuckhead that had seen Seven too many times.
She knew better already.
Kyle’s ministrations hadn’t made her entirely better, but it had made her well enough to realize she couldn’t sit there anymore. What she’d told Hal was right. If they were going to try to come for Ramsey—Ramsey who’d already been through being kidnapped by a twisted mind (thanks dad)—this time she’d be there for him. They’d have to walk through her first.
She scrawled a paper note and left it on her desk, then pulled on her now-repaired suit and gauntlets before heading to the zeta tube.
A small, late model pick up truck pulls into a spot outside WKEY-TV studios in Keystone City. The driver, a white male of average height dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt steps out, puts money in the meter and walks away down the street. Moments later the truck explodes with a deafening noise, but does little property damage and physically harms no passersby. It does however shower the area in green paint and about 1,000 small leaflets that read: (Long Live the “Queen”! - E.C.)
Wally pulled his cowl up over his face, situating it before taking off down the street. He’d heard the strange circumstance on the scanner, and after the bulletins from the watchtower, he crossed the city in just a few seconds to the crime scene. Skidding to a stop, he folded his arms and looked over the scene.
“So what have we got?” he asked, looking at one of the officers.
“It’s the weirdest thing, Flash,” the officer said. “Minimal damage, no one hurt, just…Paint. And paper.”
Snatching one of the papers up, Wally looked it over, brows furrowing. Long live the ‘Queen’….
“That mean anything to you?” the officer asked with a nod.
“Yeah kinda,” he said, chewing his lips. Folding it up and tucking it away, he looked to the officer again. “Try to contain this, keep it as quiet as possible. This was obviously a publicity stunt. I’ll get a hold of the JL and keep you guys posted.”
“But what about-“
Before the man could finish, Flash was gone, sprinting down the street and clear out of the city. He had to get to Star City and make sure everything was ok.
Please be ok…
Children and their families enjoying a day out at a local Star City park notice an unusual amount of trash strewn about. “Mom – what’s this?” one little girl asks picking up a photograph. The photo is of Lian Harper playing in the very same park some time ago. Looking around, it appears that all of the trash is actually multiple photos of Lian playing in the park. Each photo has a message typed on the back that reads: (None Are Safe! – E.C.)
Roy steps outside for the first time in what feels like forever.
When he walks out, it’s in civvies and nothing feels better than getting some fresh air. There’s a tracker on him, he knows because he put it there. Just a precaution. Everyone was so touchy feely about him being out by himself still. He kept saying it, that he was fine. No one wanted to believe him.
That, or they couldn’t bring themselves to believe.
Lost in his thoughts, he made his way to the park, curiously finding it trashed. He hadn’t heard any news about vandalism but then again, he’d chosen to stay cut off for a while so, perhaps he’d missed something on his way out?
He doesn’t decide to investigate until he felt the eyes of everyone watching him. The hairs on the back of his nape stood up and he tensed, like someone was walking over his grave.
He got the chills and made his way over to a pile of trash, picking up one of the pictures. He stared at it for long moment, turning it over and staring at it for a long while.
None are safe, what the hell did it mean?
His chest grew tight, surveying each pile to see that it was in fact just a bunch of pictures of his daughter. This…whatever the hell it was, he didn’t like it.
IN PARKED SEDAN, WATCHING THROUGH HIGH-POWERED BINOCULARS, A SLIGHT BUT MUSCULAR ASIAN MALE SITS BEHIND THE WHEEL. HE WATCHES AS YOUNG, GREEN BOY ARRIVES AND ENTERS THE ARROW HOUSE WHICH HE HAS BEEN ASSIGNED TO KEEP UNDER SURVEILLANCE. THE MAN LOWERS THE BINOCULARS, TAKES A PEN FROM HIS POCKET, AND WRITES SOMETHING IN A SMALL NOTEBOOK. A TATTOO OF A SET OF FANGS IS VISIBLE ON THE MAN’S WRITING HAND. HE REPLACES THE NOTEBOOK AND PEN AND RESUMES WATCHING THE HOUSE THROUGH THE BINOCULARS…
Gar managed to make sure he wasn’t going to set off some sort of alarm that would rouse the whole league into action just by going into Mia’s house. He made his way up to the penthouse to get the puppy to make sure she was safe. Because of course Mia was more worried about her, then herself. Not that he’d blame her, but… still. She was bitten by a freaking Black Mamba and she’s all like ‘lol no big’. Of course it was a big deal. He knew how deadly they could be, of course he knew. He’d been one before, well, a green Black Mamba but whatever…
Entering the penthouse he looked around for the leash grabbing it off the counter, “Kiki!” He called hearing the dog tags jingle as she bounded towards him. “Hey girl.” He said leaning over and petting her as he clipped the leash onto her collar. “You’re coming to stay with me for a little while, ok? Mia’s ok, but they’re all staying in the watchtower for a little.”
Kiki probably understood him a lot more then she’d understand someone else telling her that and honestly just seemed excited to get out of the house. He locked the door behind him and headed back down the elevator and to his car to go back home, or maybe a dog park first, or something like that.
MSG: If an archer falls in the forest and no one is around to see him bleed, will you still grieve? If a queen falls, will the world grieve, or just his kin? Long Live the “Queen” - but not his friends and especially not his family! - E.C.
Furrows his eyebrows at the message, reading it and re-reading it a few times before forwarding it to the League, and anyone of interest with the added note to any of them who could possibly answer him:
- Where is my father?
The door to Wildcat’s Gym busts open and men in boxing gear spill out into the street. Some are screaming, frightened. Some just run. Inside the gym itself, a flood of over 2,000 rats pour up through the drain pipes and begin to wreak havoc on the wiring, the walls and the equipment. The rats’ squeaking can be heard for blocks away. Nailed to the wall is a hand-painted wooden sign reading: (Long Live the “Queen”! – E.C.)
OK Who put rats in my gym?!?! Hope Bruce or Queen can put some bucks and manpower into help… *tries to call the Leaguers* Hey, guys. Some ..E..C.. chumps infested my gym with rats! If it’s that freak with the mask,I’ll kick his freaky ass in my ring!
ATTENTION ALL LEAGUE MEMBERS
(-(-( Telepathic Override)-)-)
My friends, please excuse this intrusion but I feel time is of the essence. During recent investigations into the Eden Corps’ attempt on Kate Spencer’s life at the Rancho Colina Elementary School in Los Angeles, I discovered a plot that may go deeper and involve more than any of us are aware of at this time. I am not yet prepared to share the full results of what I have learned and my hunt is ongoing, but my case notes are available for review. I am afraid that making a wrong move or too sudden a move might tip the enemy to our knowledge.
But I am also worried that the enemy may already be moving against us in different and dangerous ways from the shadows. And I fear we may have waited too long.
I bring this warning: If any of you encounter a threat, even a perceived threat, from anyone claiming association with the Eden Corps, the Corps, or “E.C.”, or – and this is very important – if you see anyone or encounter anyone suspicious with markings, jewelry, or some other item resembling or giving the impression of fangs, please call for assistance immediately.
Lastly, there are three specific people for whom you should be on close watch. If you should see or are contacted by Sergeant Arin Coleman of the LAPD (( telepathic image of thirty-something, fit, Caucasian female with straight, shoulder-length brown hair )), Dr. Alex Coleman of Oregon State University (( telepathic image of forty-something, Caucasian male, receding hairline, glasses )), or Abdul al Fuq of parts unknown (( telepathic image of thirty-something, fit, olive-skinned, Arabic male with short, curly black hair )) do NOT attempt to engage. I repeat, do NOT engage. Call for assistance and inform me immediately. These are potentially very dangerous people that need to be dealt with delicately. Do not attempt to engage alone!
Be careful out there.
Superman is grim and silent as he surveys the decapitated body. His penetrative vision looks past the lifeless flesh of the young girl, isolates the fractured bones beneath her skin and the blood under her fingernails. She put up a struggle. She fought for her life, and she lost.
Studying her vocal cords confirms to Clark that the scream he heard wasn’t issued by Mia Queen. Hers are too short, too tight for that resonant blast that broke the still night, and the feeling behind it had been all wrong. Years of listening had made Clark sensitive to the distinctions between human bellows, between the enraged yell of a domestic dispute, the amused shriek of a startling prank, or the wail of someone who truly needed his help. The cry that brought him down from the sky tonight was full of horror, but low with repulsion: an observer who happened to discover the body.
The strangled scream of someone struggling to stave off death was something that couldn’t be faked well enough to fool Superman anymore. She wasn’t killed on the streets of Metropolis, or he would have heard the unmistakable cry.
“Mia Queen,” he murmurs as he reviews the victim identification report. He thinks at once of Oliver and his daughter Mia. Was someone trying to send them a message? Someone who knew their secret identities? E.C. Clark ponders the initials for a moment, but they don’t ring any bells.
It serves Superman well in this moment to be trusted by the Metropolis police department. They agree without reservation to supply him with a copy of their case file. Clark returns home to scan and forward the contents of the file to Batman, and to alert Oliver of the victim’s name in a separate e-mail. “It may be a coincidence,” he concludes each correspondence, “but in our line of work, it rarely is.”
Found on a fence pike outside the Hawaii State Capitol Building in Honolulu is a human female head. The head is adorned with a green, metallic crown made of arrow heads welded together. The head’s mouth is sewn shut. Inside the mouth is a note which reads: (Long Live the “Queen”! – E.C.) Analysis of the head will reveal it to belong to Mia Queen, a runaway from Bludhaven whose murdered body was recently found in Metropolis.
On a downtown billboard advertising the latest cheeseburger creation, a message is written: (Long Live the “Queen”, but not his friends! – E.C.) The “s” at the end of “friends” is the familiar s-shield worn by the Kryptonians. The letters appear rust brown in color but upon close inspection can be clearly seen to be written in blood. DNA analysis will reveal the blood as belonging to a murder victim found beheaded in Metropolis.
Kara floated in twilight, which was her favourite time of day after riding the Serpent, and surveyed the billboard. “I really liked the Superbacon Supreme, too. Now it’s all bloody, and not in the good way, and it’s just…ruined.” She pouted, pulling her phone out of the pocket of her jeans. Now, which one would she contact? It was a surprise Kal hadn’t seen this already, it was on their home turf after all.
Her finger hovered over the call button for just a second, before she changed her mind and redialed. “Hey, Kal, we have a…thing. Written all over my favourite fast food joint’s billboard. It smells like this ain’t just red paint, and they used the El symbol. I’m texting you a pic, and the location.” She hung up, slightly ticked that she had reached a voicemail, but hey they were busy folk the children of El.
She took a picture with her phone, and sent it to both Batman and Clark with the location, as well as with a plea for Batman to bring her a milkshake from her favourite joint in Gotham. She was a growing girl, and she needed her sugar.
Arriving with the assortment of items delivered to Alfred's kitchen is a plain sealed envelope taped behind the lettuce crate. Inside is a picture of Queen Elizabeth II smiling, her eyes cut out and her throat slashed. On the back of the picture, written in blood, is the phrase: (Long Live the "Queen", But Not His Friends - E.C.) DNA analysis would determine the blood belongs to a teenage runaway named Mia Queen,of Bludhaven, recently found murdered in Metropolis. No other traces are found.
Alfred took a look at the envelope. It was strange that the items he had ordered was delivered to the watchtower since he was careful to not have his master associated with the league any more than the investment he had put into building the structure that is used as their headquarters and base of operations.
He carefully peeled open the envelope with the silver letter opener he had always carried inside his jacket’s pocket. Just as carefully he removed the photo and realized the threat it had, he flipped it over and read the statement in the back. The man was quite flabbergasted but knew how to keep his cool under the situation and had done so.
He slowly stood up and made his way to the lab, it was time he had his master involved with the league once more, this time to solve the mystery behind the mysterious blood and threat towards Master Oliver Queen.
Alfred began to scan the image and blood into the system, trying to find out just who it was used as ‘sacrifice’ for the bloodied threat, as he immediately worked on sending his master all and everything he knew of it.
A medium sized steel box painted red with a picture of a Robin painted in black on its lid is left in front of a statue at Gotham University. The box is padlocked. Inside the box is a bloody jambiya. DNA analysis will reveal the blood to belong to Mia Queen whose body was recently discovered in Metropolis. Criminal forensics will determine this to be the murder weapon used to kill her. No note, no other evidence exists within or around the box.
Tim is cautious about handling the box, clearly left for him to find. He runs one finger over the painted robin, but there is no residue on his gauntlet, the pain long since dry.
Carefully he picks the lock, opening it slowly in case it’s booby trapped. Nothing happens, so he picks up the dagger, examining it. Clicking his comm link, he messages Bruce. “Got something. You should see this.” He then packs up the blade and box, heading back towards the manor.
The screws holding the vent grate in Selina’s ceiling slowly twist out and fall to the floor drawing the attention of the black cat in the room who rises to investigate. The vent grate opens and a small, canvas bag drops to the center of the floor. The grate is pulled shut again but the screws remain on the floor. The bag falls open and three Brazilian Wandering Spiders crawl out, each one clearly agitated from the trip. The spiders sense the cat and begin making their way towards it.
Isis leaned back, watching the spiders crawl closer. She hissed at the spiders, body arching into a threatening position. The spiders stopped and rose to their hind legs, waving their front legs in the air. Isis growled and stalked a wide circle around them, the spiders turning to face her as she moved.
Isis yowled, keeping her distance from the spiders. From across the apartment came the echoed yowls of other cats, cats crawling out of dark corners and off of balconies, climbing in through the windows and up from the alleys. Within seconds, the spiders were surrounded by cats. These things were going to hurt their Momma.
These things would pay.
One of the spiders skittered toward Isis and was immediately attacked by a brown tabby. Two calicoes launched onto another spider, clawing at it, and viciously tearing it apart. The last spider was locked in a dance with a young Siamese, the cat darting back and forth to aggravate it. The spider caught hold of it, preparing to sink its fangs into the cat, when Isis leapt on it, tearing off a leg. The other cats quickly swarmed over the spiders, only settling once the last spider stopped twitching.
Maven walked into the room, concerned about the amount of noise from the cats, and froze in the doorway. Isis was sitting behind the spider carcasses, calmly grooming herself as the other cats went back to their respective places, content in the knowledge that Momma was safe. Maven’s eye twitched slightly.
“What…happened?”
Isis looked up at her and held out a paw. “Gurrrrrrrrrl, you don’ wanna know!” She went back to cleaning her paws. “You bes’ get Momma on the phone, tho’, gurl. Iss gettin’ srs up in hurr.”
MSG: Riddler – we have watched you for many years and have admired your work in the past. Your position within the pantheon of so-called heroes, especially your past clashes with the Detective, now affords you a unique opportunity to be a part of a grander life, one not so short sighted as your Justice League’s. Some of us are already there with you. You are not alone. Do not reveal this message. We will contact you again soon...
Edward stared at the strange message, chewing his lip a moment. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was an invitation, clearly, but whether good or bad he was having a hard time sorting out. Sliding into a chair, he poured over it, checking the syntax, the lines, the numbering, ANYTHING that might have some altered meaning.
And came up empty.
Running a hand through his hair, he realized it was shaking. He curled his fingers into a tight first, trying to calm his nerves. Whatever this mysterious missive was, there was little he could do about it right now. Well, save wait…and wonder.
MSG: Red Hood – we have watched you for many years and have admired your work in the past. Your position within the pantheon of so-called heroes, especially your connection to the Detective, now affords you a unique opportunity to be a part of a grander life, one not so short sighted as your Justice League’s. Some of us are already there with you. You are not alone. Do not reveal this message. We will contact you again soon...
Jason stared at the note in his inbox.
His PERSONAL email - it wasn’t like anyone knew it. He frowned, even harder. Considering the shit going on he only knew peripherally about (he couldn’t avoid it, there were people running around the tower and he could HEAR it…) Jason had a feeling this wasn’t… good news.
It was also incredibly creepy. Jason frowned and saved a copy of it. Maybe he should show it to Guy.
or B. Or both of them. They’d know what to do about it - Jason was very sure he didn’t want naything to do with a shadow organisation like this.
"MSG: Harley Quinn – we have watched you for many years and have admired your work in the past. Your position within the pantheon of so-called heroes, especially your past clashes with the Detective, now affords you a unique opportunity to be a part of a grander life, one not so short sighted as your Justice League’s. Some of us are already there with you. You are not alone. Do not reveal this message. We will contact you again soon..."
Harley gets very little traffic going on up on the Tower so when a message gets sent through her tablet while she’s playing Action Potato, she ignores it. But the message kills her last can and she pouts before double clicking the home page to touch the messages symbol. Reading it to herself she looks up, narrowing her eyes before searching for any sorts of bugs in her room before giving up and returning to her game.
Whatever the message was for, they better not screw up her next game or she’d start snapping some necks.
We know you can see and hear what is going on. We are moving against the League without you. You are not a part of our plans little man. We are greater than you can imagine. Stay out of this fight. It is not yours. You may help yourself to the pieces when we are through.
Roman read the message and his eyes flashed with anger, had he not been in this stinking hell hole they call the brig, he would have made his way to Gotham and figured out just what the hell is going on.
He wasn’t anyone small or easy to mess with, Roman was a key player in Gotham’s underground and here he was not even being considered to take care in the challenge that was the mysterious Eden Corp who was fucking things amongst the Leaguers.
His charred like eyebrows furrowed and a snarl escaped his lips.
“‘Stay out of this fight. It is not yours,’ they say. I’ll show you just what Roman Sionis is capable of!” The man was shouting inside of his cell when the thought hit him, it’s not the Eden Corps that were sending these messages.
It must have been a third party, someone that knew who the SeRVE members are plus their status within SeRVE. He was very much aware that all of the other members other than himself had obtained a message to join the fight against the League but all of those that received an invitation were all loyal to the League due to personal relations.
Every single one of the stinkin’ SeRVE members other than Black Mask were loyal to those fuckers. All of which received some kind of invitation. But yet the only member that would happily accept the invitation had received none.
Knocking against the glass loudly, he began to shout so someone would hear him. “LET ME OUT OF HERE YOU STINKING HEROES. I THINK I CAN HELP YOU FIGURE OUT WHO’S DOING ALL OF THIS. OPEN UP! I MIGHT HAVE A LEAD ON WHO’S DOING ALL OF THIS.”
He wasn’t going to stop until someone turned up, even if his voice turned out hoarse and his arms numb.
MSG: The time to strike is nigh brother! Join us again. The Master will welcome you back with open arms. We will all soon be victorious together…
Damian rolls his eyes at the text on his phone. Maybe Grayson or one of the other boys trying to prank him. They enjoy such foolish distractions.
The little Bat doesn’t want to play? She’d rather hide behind her Daddy’s cape? How spoiled! We thought we had a clue that you were a real hero, not just some junior varsity wannabe. We will give you a second chance though - come alone to the following coordinates (44.5903° N, 104.7153° W) and meet with our representative from inside your League. Hear his offer. You may be surprised by the answers you seek.
Steph begrudgingly arrives at the coordinates given to her. She didn’t go out of pride or anger, she went to get to the bottom of this mess. Sending out a message to to Ollie, Bruce, Kyle, and Guy that if she didn’t contact them in fifteen minutes to come and help her, Batgirl entered the area, poised and alert.
Hanging from a noose tied to the clock tower outside of the Gotham City Public Library Main Branch is a stuffed, man-sized dummy. The Dummy’s skin is painted yellow, it wears a green wig. A thick, red boa rests on its shoulders. The Dummy’s eyes are carved out. Inside the left socket is a set of 12 playing cards, Ace through King of Hearts but missing the Queen. The right socket is left empty. No evidence exists as to who hung it.
….Man at least it isn’t Scarface this time. That dummy’s gone through a lot of crap lately. Hmm guy didn’t even put detail into my body.
(Voice Mail) Hello Mr. Lantern, um, Rayner? My name is Arin Coleman and I work with the LAPD. We’ve actually spoken briefly. I was part of the unit at the recent, um, attempt at Rancho Colina Elementary and I am so sorry to her that Ms. Spencer, well, that’s not why I’m calling anyway. I was actually calling to inquire about renting a room for a party at Warriors next weekend for some friends – about 15 of us. Do you guys offer that? Can you contact me at the station with any info? Thanks! Bye!
Kyle phoned the Sergeant back, and was relieved to find it went to her voicemail. “Hello ah, Sergeant…Coleman? Coleman, yeah, ummm…” Kyle hated being on the phone, even moreso now that he was a Lantern. Ring communication was just so much more cleaner. “Yeah thank you for the call, this line isn’t really for personal calls but, um. Ah. Ahhh. Er. Ummm I don’t think we’re capable yet of running private functions, lo siento. Y gracias. Y…thanks for keeping the city safe. And okay. Okay. Adios.”
Kyle swiftly put the phone back in its cradle and made a mental note to talk to Guy about functions and all that jazz.
An alert light blinks on Kate Spencer’s WE Tablet computer. Logging on, she will discover a message from an undisclosed sender containing three picture files: One of Ramsey and Peter walking down a street at a Victoria Day street fair celebration. The second is of Bear Woman speaking to Sporrun outside near a large pine tree. The last is of Lian Harper playing and smiling in a Star City park. The message contains these words: "None are safe..."
The message couldn’t have appeared at a worse time for Kate, not long after she’d received a different but particular message, and in the middle of a mutually furious back and forth with Hal. Or maybe it couldn’t have appeared at a better time.
After everything that had happened (Kate’d been keeping a metaphorical ear to the ground to Tower chatter, knew about what had been found in Keystone and Metropolis and at the dam), she found the message to be almost astoundingly tame. That was the worrisome part—they didn’t need to be more explicit, leave a package or image that was the product of a twisted mind, any fuckhead that had seen Seven too many times.
She knew better already.
Kyle’s ministrations hadn’t made her entirely better, but it had made her well enough to realize she couldn’t sit there anymore. What she’d told Hal was right. If they were going to try to come for Ramsey—Ramsey who’d already been through being kidnapped by a twisted mind (thanks dad)—this time she’d be there for him. They’d have to walk through her first.
She scrawled a paper note and left it on her desk, then pulled on her now-repaired suit and gauntlets before heading to the zeta tube.
A small, late model pick up truck pulls into a spot outside WKEY-TV studios in Keystone City. The driver, a white male of average height dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt steps out, puts money in the meter and walks away down the street. Moments later the truck explodes with a deafening noise, but does little property damage and physically harms no passersby. It does however shower the area in green paint and about 1,000 small leaflets that read: (Long Live the “Queen”! - E.C.)
Wally pulled his cowl up over his face, situating it before taking off down the street. He’d heard the strange circumstance on the scanner, and after the bulletins from the watchtower, he crossed the city in just a few seconds to the crime scene. Skidding to a stop, he folded his arms and looked over the scene.
“So what have we got?” he asked, looking at one of the officers.
“It’s the weirdest thing, Flash,” the officer said. “Minimal damage, no one hurt, just…Paint. And paper.”
Snatching one of the papers up, Wally looked it over, brows furrowing. Long live the ‘Queen’….
“That mean anything to you?” the officer asked with a nod.
“Yeah kinda,” he said, chewing his lips. Folding it up and tucking it away, he looked to the officer again. “Try to contain this, keep it as quiet as possible. This was obviously a publicity stunt. I’ll get a hold of the JL and keep you guys posted.”
“But what about-“
Before the man could finish, Flash was gone, sprinting down the street and clear out of the city. He had to get to Star City and make sure everything was ok.
Please be ok…
Children and their families enjoying a day out at a local Star City park notice an unusual amount of trash strewn about. “Mom – what’s this?” one little girl asks picking up a photograph. The photo is of Lian Harper playing in the very same park some time ago. Looking around, it appears that all of the trash is actually multiple photos of Lian playing in the park. Each photo has a message typed on the back that reads: (None Are Safe! – E.C.)
Roy steps outside for the first time in what feels like forever.
When he walks out, it’s in civvies and nothing feels better than getting some fresh air. There’s a tracker on him, he knows because he put it there. Just a precaution. Everyone was so touchy feely about him being out by himself still. He kept saying it, that he was fine. No one wanted to believe him.
That, or they couldn’t bring themselves to believe.
Lost in his thoughts, he made his way to the park, curiously finding it trashed. He hadn’t heard any news about vandalism but then again, he’d chosen to stay cut off for a while so, perhaps he’d missed something on his way out?
He doesn’t decide to investigate until he felt the eyes of everyone watching him. The hairs on the back of his nape stood up and he tensed, like someone was walking over his grave.
He got the chills and made his way over to a pile of trash, picking up one of the pictures. He stared at it for long moment, turning it over and staring at it for a long while.
None are safe, what the hell did it mean?
His chest grew tight, surveying each pile to see that it was in fact just a bunch of pictures of his daughter. This…whatever the hell it was, he didn’t like it.
IN PARKED SEDAN, WATCHING THROUGH HIGH-POWERED BINOCULARS, A SLIGHT BUT MUSCULAR ASIAN MALE SITS BEHIND THE WHEEL. HE WATCHES AS YOUNG, GREEN BOY ARRIVES AND ENTERS THE ARROW HOUSE WHICH HE HAS BEEN ASSIGNED TO KEEP UNDER SURVEILLANCE. THE MAN LOWERS THE BINOCULARS, TAKES A PEN FROM HIS POCKET, AND WRITES SOMETHING IN A SMALL NOTEBOOK. A TATTOO OF A SET OF FANGS IS VISIBLE ON THE MAN’S WRITING HAND. HE REPLACES THE NOTEBOOK AND PEN AND RESUMES WATCHING THE HOUSE THROUGH THE BINOCULARS…
Gar managed to make sure he wasn’t going to set off some sort of alarm that would rouse the whole league into action just by going into Mia’s house. He made his way up to the penthouse to get the puppy to make sure she was safe. Because of course Mia was more worried about her, then herself. Not that he’d blame her, but… still. She was bitten by a freaking Black Mamba and she’s all like ‘lol no big’. Of course it was a big deal. He knew how deadly they could be, of course he knew. He’d been one before, well, a green Black Mamba but whatever…
Entering the penthouse he looked around for the leash grabbing it off the counter, “Kiki!” He called hearing the dog tags jingle as she bounded towards him. “Hey girl.” He said leaning over and petting her as he clipped the leash onto her collar. “You’re coming to stay with me for a little while, ok? Mia’s ok, but they’re all staying in the watchtower for a little.”
Kiki probably understood him a lot more then she’d understand someone else telling her that and honestly just seemed excited to get out of the house. He locked the door behind him and headed back down the elevator and to his car to go back home, or maybe a dog park first, or something like that.
MSG: If an archer falls in the forest and no one is around to see him bleed, will you still grieve? If a queen falls, will the world grieve, or just his kin? Long Live the “Queen” - but not his friends and especially not his family! - E.C.
Furrows his eyebrows at the message, reading it and re-reading it a few times before forwarding it to the League, and anyone of interest with the added note to any of them who could possibly answer him:
- Where is my father?
The door to Wildcat’s Gym busts open and men in boxing gear spill out into the street. Some are screaming, frightened. Some just run. Inside the gym itself, a flood of over 2,000 rats pour up through the drain pipes and begin to wreak havoc on the wiring, the walls and the equipment. The rats’ squeaking can be heard for blocks away. Nailed to the wall is a hand-painted wooden sign reading: (Long Live the “Queen”! – E.C.)
OK Who put rats in my gym?!?! Hope Bruce or Queen can put some bucks and manpower into help… *tries to call the Leaguers* Hey, guys. Some ..E..C.. chumps infested my gym with rats! If it’s that freak with the mask,I’ll kick his freaky ass in my ring!
ATTENTION ALL LEAGUE MEMBERS
(-(-( Telepathic Override)-)-)
My friends, please excuse this intrusion but I feel time is of the essence. During recent investigations into the Eden Corps’ attempt on Kate Spencer’s life at the Rancho Colina Elementary School in Los Angeles, I discovered a plot that may go deeper and involve more than any of us are aware of at this time. I am not yet prepared to share the full results of what I have learned and my hunt is ongoing, but my case notes are available for review. I am afraid that making a wrong move or too sudden a move might tip the enemy to our knowledge.
But I am also worried that the enemy may already be moving against us in different and dangerous ways from the shadows. And I fear we may have waited too long.
I bring this warning: If any of you encounter a threat, even a perceived threat, from anyone claiming association with the Eden Corps, the Corps, or “E.C.”, or – and this is very important – if you see anyone or encounter anyone suspicious with markings, jewelry, or some other item resembling or giving the impression of fangs, please call for assistance immediately.
Lastly, there are three specific people for whom you should be on close watch. If you should see or are contacted by Sergeant Arin Coleman of the LAPD (( telepathic image of thirty-something, fit, Caucasian female with straight, shoulder-length brown hair )), Dr. Alex Coleman of Oregon State University (( telepathic image of forty-something, Caucasian male, receding hairline, glasses )), or Abdul al Fuq of parts unknown (( telepathic image of thirty-something, fit, olive-skinned, Arabic male with short, curly black hair )) do NOT attempt to engage. I repeat, do NOT engage. Call for assistance and inform me immediately. These are potentially very dangerous people that need to be dealt with delicately. Do not attempt to engage alone!
Be careful out there.