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Post by johnreiter902 on Jun 13, 2020 13:28:23 GMT
Yes!! Great to see Klarion the Witch-Boy back, although I hope we will see more detail on him in the future. I wanted to use him in a Teen Titans story at some point, since he is in the right age bracket now. I also wanted to touch on the fact that when he last saw him, Etrigan almost killed him, which is why he has taken so long to return. He had to recover, both from the injuries and from the shock.
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Post by DocQuantum on Jun 14, 2020 3:27:04 GMT
Thanks. I've only got one more chapter planned with Klarion, so feel free to use him in your Teen Titans story. I realize this one was a little silly, but that was what I was going for.
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Post by DocQuantum on Aug 24, 2021 18:02:36 GMT
As I've been summarizing each chapter of this story, I noticed how fast paced the early chapters tended to be, and I hope to get back to that quickly. To do so, I am going to wrap up the main storylines featuring the Titans and the Outsiders, and any others I will try to ensure are one-offs similar to the Golden Glider/Chillblaine battle with Polara and Argus.
More generally, I'd like to wrap this one up and finish the Legion of Doom storyline soon. This has been dragging on WAY too long. I apologize. I'm afraid that this storyline is at least partly responsible for generally slowing down the pace of Earth-1 stories in general, occupying all of our hero teams at the same time. I'm terrible.
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Post by DocQuantum on Aug 27, 2021 9:32:50 GMT
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Post by DocQuantum on Mar 1, 2022 8:58:24 GMT
July in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, was normally a beautiful, hot month cooled only by the air currents from Howe Sound. On any given day you would see joggers and bicyclists along the sea wall in Stanley Park, English Bay, and elsewhere, enjoying the weather and the lush scenery. Sun bathers could be seen on beaches and parks. The aquarium at Stanley Park was well-attended by young and old, and lawn bowling was played on a nearby field.
On this day, however, an unseasonal cold snap had suddenly chilled the entire Lower Mainland and Vancouver Island, and temperatures were quickly dropping to below zero degrees Celsius. Now that it was below the freezing point, even the waters of Burrard Inlet, separating the North Shore from mainland Vancouver and Burnaby, had suddenly started to freeze, trapping sailboats, cargo freighters, and even float planes.
Overlooking Burrard Inlet was a meeting room at the Pan Pacific Hotel at Canada Place, the former location of Expo '86. On this day it also served as the first meeting place for Canada's premier super-hero team, Northwatch. (*) For the past couple of hours, the heroes had spent some time getting to know each other over a light lunch, trading origin stories and interesting anecdotes. None of them expected that an actual emergency would arise just outside their window during the meeting. After all, what was the odds of that kind of thing happening here, of all places?
[(*) Editor's note: See Northwatch: We Stand on Guard for Thee.]
The first thing they noticed was the snow -- in July. Contrary to popular conceptions about Canada being a land of snow and ice, the West Coast was a temperate rainforest that only had snow occasionally in the winter, and although the rain could get chilly, it was unheard of for it to turn to snow in the middle of the summer.
"Well, I never expected Christmas in July!" remarked Skyman. In his new heroic identity, Johnny Kirk had an aviator-inspired look with a blue flight jacket with a white scarf, white gloves and boots, tan jodhpur-style pants, and goggles.
"We should go outside and build a snowman!" Sparx said excitedly. The teenage girl with the electric hair was already reaching to open the window.
"I hardly think that's a good use of our time," countered Centrix in a more serious tone, dressed in a military-inspired red and white uniform. "I was hoping we could move on to what we should expect from one another in this team. I mean, Hyperman is obviously the best one to lead the team, but given that he doesn't seem all that interested in joining, I would gladly volunteer to--"
"This is an unnatural storm," growled the blue-skinned Frostbite, still sitting regally at the table.
"How can you tell?" inquired Nova, the Montreal-based detective in the purple costume and green cape and cowl.
"Trust me, I know this weather pattern," replied Frostbite. "This is not merely a snowstorm. It is the precursor to an invasion."
"I'm game for thwarting another invasion," said the Black Orchid, reclining comfortably in her chair; it had been only a couple of days since her trip down south to the Amazon rainforest to fight alongside the Swamp Thing, and the heroine in the flowery purple bodysuit partly regretted that she'd had to cut her trip short. "I think the boy knows a bit more than he's letting on, at any rate."
"I do," said Frostbite. "And I am no boy." Commanding respect from everyone in the room, he stood to his feet and continued. "This is the very reason I came to your world. I had hoped I would have more time to prepare, and to gather allies. But now the storm is upon us, and I fear it may sweep away all in its path."
"I dunno, Frosty," replied Sparx. "Looks like an ordinary blizzard to me."
"Minister Blizzard."
"What was that?" asked Skyman.
"The one responsible for this... storm hails from my homeland, up north," explained Frostbite. "He has attempted this before, but never on such a grand scale as now. He may be nothing more than a forgotten villain to you, but soon the whole Northern Hemisphere will know the name of Minister Blizzard."
"That sounds like a threat," observed Centrix.
"It is a fact," the blue-skinned man said. "Even now, the Ice Legion is marching in to your cities under cover of this storm, unseen by all until it's too late."
"Guys...?" said Sparx, staring balefully out the window. "I'm starting to think he's not joking. The snow is getting so thick I can't see the North Shore mountains any longer. It's like pea soup out there!"
"We must prepare for battle," said Frostbite, allowing the high-collared fur cloak he wore to fall to the ground. He now wore nothing but black shorts and gloves as he strode toward the window, crawled through it, and leaped out to the ground far below.
Skyman looked at the others. "Yep. I don't think he's the joking type. Shall we go?"
"I'm not exactly dressed for this kind of weather," said Sparx, looking down at her costume, which looked like a one-piece navy blue bathing suit with leggings and long gloves.
The Black Orchid picked up Frostbite's fur cloak and tossed it to her. "That should keep you warm, at least until you get your blood pumping." At that, she leaped out the window herself and soared in the same direction as her new teammate was going.
The others followed as they were able. Skyman helped his friend Nova to the ground, and Sparx levitated through the air. Centrix sighed deeply and was the last to leave the room, exiting by the door instead; he could have used his powers to catch up easily, but as far as he was concerned, this was a lot of fuss over nothing.
Mark Armstrong was used to commanding the room whenever he held a meeting in his secret identity as a high-powered CEO, but that was also when everyone in the company owed their salary to him. He had retired from that lifestyle for the quiet life of a bookstore owner and part-time super-hero as Centrix, but part of him still desired to lead. The frustrating thing about that was that these other heroes didn't particularly want to follow him. He was going to have to do something about that soon, if Canada's premier hero Hyperman went from being a no-show to a never-show.
Once outside, Centrix shivered from the cold and looked around. The storm had grown worse in the couple of minutes since he left the room, and he could barely see more than a few feet away from him. "This proves nothing," he muttered to himself, and prepared to make his way forward using his powers.
Taking a look behind him to ensure that nobody was there, Centrix took a moment to visualize a vector field emanating in two opposite directions from his body at the same time, one of them from his back and angled toward the ground, with the other from his front and angled toward the sky. With the merest effort the same amount of force moved in both directions, pushing him away from the ground while giving him no resistance from the sky above, enabling him to soar into the air. Shifting the direction of his vector fields, he was able to take large leaps and thus fly in a crude fashion. It wasn't as elegant as Skyman or Black Orchid, but it got the job done.
"Where the heck did they all go?" Centrix muttered to himself, trying to figure out where his erstwhile teammates had gone in the short time since he'd seen them last, heading north. His question was answered a moment later by a scream. "Damn it," he muttered, cursing himself for not taking the situation seriously. Someone was evidently in serious trouble.
Soon enough the hero had caught up with the rest of Northwatch, who were standing at the edge of the Burrard Inlet, which Centrix could tell even with limited visibility was completely frozen over.
Even worse, a horde of shadowed figures were moving toward them over the ice-covered water, even as screaming, panicked civilians fled for their lives from the area. Soon a central figure made himself known. His blue-tinged white skin looked like ice, and he wore black shorts, a blue cape, golden gauntlets, and an icy crown. His face was gaunt and pitiless as he surveyed the small group of costumed heroes who stood alone to challenge him, and if he recognized Frostbite at all, he didn't deign to bother acknowledging him.
Minister Blizzard stood as several of his Ice Legion surrounded him on both sides like white-walkers. And with a deep, guttural voice he gave them a command in English, so he knew his foes would understand his words very clearly.
"Kill them all."
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Post by DocQuantum on Mar 1, 2022 9:12:35 GMT
James Jesse was troubled. The circus acrobat turned high-flying super-criminal turned stuntman and special effects artist had been trying to turn over a new leaf for a few years now. But somehow he just kept falling into circumstances that made his resolve wither away like snowfall in the spring. No, it wasn't the circumstances at all, he realized. It was the fact that he couldn't commit to staying on the straight and narrow like he sometimes wanted to. That was why, despite taking positive steps to begin an honest life, he was only able to last for a few months before falling off the wagon again. Alcohol wasn't his problem; it was the notoriety that he received for being the Trickster and outsmarting the police and any super-hero foes he might encounter that really gave him the same kind of thrill he'd known as a child on the high-wire trapeze.
He'd already tarnished his reputation a few times by slipping back into old habits, so much so that there weren't too many bridges left to burn. Thankfully, he still had a few friends in the business who were willing to give him a break, as long as he could stay out of the crime game for the duration of any given project.
But his old friends, the ones who were still in the game full-time, still thought of him as one of them. they kept offering him new capers, new opportunities that tempted him to play the role of the Trickster again and again.
Yet, even after he'd backslidden a few times over the last couple of years, James Jesse still thought of himself as an honest man, someone who had reformed despite still having a few rough edges. So when he was sent a glowing green candle with a note attached from a fellow named Neron, he knew he had finally come to a point that he'd have to make a final decision about the future of his life, once and for all. It was either accept this Neron's offer and potentially become a better version of the Trickster than he'd ever been, and accept the risks of losing his soul both metaphorically and literally, or walk away from that life for good and continue along the path of the righteous man, and accept both the difficulties of an honest life of hard work and the eventual rewards for doing right by his fellow man.
Decisions, decisions...
Of course the Trickster attended the meeting. How could he not? At the very least he wanted to see who else would be there, and who agreed to serve Neron. He didn't think of it as being that much of a big deal, really.
But as he lit the green candle at midnight on that fateful night, and found himself transported to a place that was not a place that sure had the distinctive smell of something like brimstone in the air, the full weight of what he was doing suddenly hit him full on. It was a moment of clarity, as people in Alcoholics Anonymous might have called it. What he was doing was foolish. What was he thinking? There was no such thing as walking between both worlds. You had to either choose the light or let the darkness absorb you. There was no in-between, and he knew he'd been fooling himself all these years thinking there was a third option.
As he looked around at all the faces of his former friends, he felt like he was in a sea of lost souls, of blinded men and women who had no idea that they were digging their own graves by putting their destinies in Neron's hands. Their lives would be shortened drastically in some cases, and in others they might live without any thought of turning back or seeking redemption.
Not so with James Jesse. For the first time in his life he came to the realization that all of this -- God, the Devil, sin, and the spirit -- was real. It was no joke. He also knew another thing: that if he didn't make a strong effort to seize this moment of clarity and burn it into his memory, he would forget about it, and end up falling right back into his old habits.
He barely heard a thing that Neron said. All he remembered was that, when it came to the point that he was forced to make a decision whether to accept Neron's offer or turn it down, he did neither. Somehow, he skirted the question entirely, and soon found himself back on solid ground. He hadn't said yes, and he also hadn't said no.
But he had not forgotten his moment of clarity.
Still, Neron was a dirty old bastard, and along came temptation at a time before he had firmly resolved to turn his back on that old life of his. It came in the form of a seemingly legitimate job for a seemingly legitimate client.
A Hollywood producer from Verner Brothers had approached him with an unusual project. The studio had assembled a team of super-heroes that was touted to be the next big thing -- bigger than the New Teen Titans, and potentially as major as the Justice League, given enough time. But for their debut upon the world stage, they needed something splashy, something epic. They needed the world to see them perform heroic feats saving the city from a dastardly villain.
It sounded great, at least at first. Hadn't James Jesse wanted to go straight and do some good in the world? But as he started thinking about it, something about it smelled like another one of Neron's too-good-to-be-true offers.
Before he could stop himself, something in him uttered the words, "Thanks for the offer, but I'll have to pass."
He couldn't understand it at the time, but he shook the man's hand and watched him walk away.
And now, as he sat at the Bar Sinister watching the TV news about the mad bomber in downtown Los Angeles, he couldn't help but notice a few strange things. Those explosions sure didn't look like they were doing any damage; they looked like a flashy light-show of pyrotechnics and booming sound, but nothing of any substance. And that speech by the mad bomber -- the Annihilator -- who spoke in such a cartoonish, corny way these days? As a longtime super-villain with a few years under his belt in special effects, the Trickster knew could tell when he was being tricked.
Now it made sense why that Verner Brothers executive had sought him out. They needed someone who knew special effects but was willing to commit a few crimes and potentially take the rap for them if the game was found out. There were a few on his mental list of suspects, but given the pyrotechnical nature of the obviously fake bombing, one stood out: Garfield Lynns.
Something else didn't sit right with him. If this new super-team that Verner Brothers was promoting was really on the up-and-up, then why would they need the services of a super-villain to fake a mad bombing spree so they could play hero? When it came to super-heroes, the Trickster held every single one of them up to his standard: the Flash. And no matter what those trial lawyers attempted to do, none of them could tarnish the reputation of that stalwart hero. The Flash would never endanger the lives of innocents just so he could get the applause for being a hero, like Abra Kadabra might have done. The Flash's only motivation was to do good.
The Trickster didn't know Green Lantern as well as his pal the original Flash, and didn't particularly want to get to know him, but he knew the Green Lantern Corps still had a headquarters in the hills outside Los Angeles. Maybe it was time to pay them a visit and warn them about this group of so-called heroes that was poised to be the next big thing.
Taking the last sip of his draft beer, the Trickster stood up and nodded over at the bartender as he made his way to the exit. He wasn't sure why he had even come here tonight. Perhaps, he thought, he was pining for the old days one last time before finally turning over a new leaf.
As he opened the door, he nearly collided with someone else. "Oh, hey, sorry pal!"
"No worries, no worries," said the other man, who looked not at all bothered but instead seemed to float on air. "Nothing can stop my winning streak!"
James Jesse frowned as he recognized him by his green and purple insect-based costume. It was the Firefly, Garfield Lynns. And as the Trickster stopped at the door and watched, he saw Lynns offer to buy a round of drinks for everyone in the bar, to great clamor and cheers. It wasn't difficult to put two and two together. His suspicion about Lynns taking the job that James Jesse had turned down was virtually proven correct.
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Post by dans on Mar 6, 2022 23:33:32 GMT
I am glad James didn't yield in this chapter!
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Post by DocQuantum on Oct 8, 2023 22:24:26 GMT
The various threads of this story have become a bit complicated to untangle in the same crossover story, so I've decided to create some crossover stories featuring a few of the teams and some of the major characters involved, so this thread can focus a bit more on the JLA and their battle with Neron.
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Post by DocQuantum on Jan 23, 2024 5:26:01 GMT
The cold, oppressive air hung thick in the abandoned building as Cameron Van Cleer's eyes flickered open. Alone and disoriented, he found himself suspended upside down, cocooned in a sticky membrane that clung to him like a grotesque second skin. The residue of a gooey substance dripped from the cocoon, forming a sickly puddle on the dusty floor below.
Cameron's head throbbed from the impact that had rendered him unconscious. Panic set in as he surveyed his surroundings, realizing he was trapped in this nightmarish cocoon. The creature that had attacked him was gone, but an eerie silence lingered, hinting at the impending return of his nightmarish assailant.
With a futile struggle, Cameron attempted to free himself, each movement met with resistance from the clingy material. He couldn't shake the feeling that every second counted, that the monster would return soon. Charaxes, it had called itself, in a sick parody of a human voice. The memory sent a cold wave of dread coursing through his veins.
As he fought against the cocoon, memories flooded Cameron's mind. Drury Walker, a name long buried in the past, had once been a mastermind criminal amassing wealth beyond imagination. But even the riches couldn't shield him from the claws of justice. Imprisoned for his crimes, he plotted his resurrection.
Upon release he emerged as Cameron Van Cleer, a refined millionaire. The secret fortune he had amassed in his previous life had allowed him to craft a new identity, leaving Drury Walker behind. Yet the allure of chaos beckoned, and he embraced the persona of Killer Moth, joining the ranks of Batman's Rogues Gallery.
Over time, the thrill of crime lost its appeal, and a new opportunity presented itself in an explosion that had supposedly claimed Cameron's life. Rising from the ashes, he assumed the mantle of the Golden Wasp, a masked hero in the shadows of Bludhaven. The accolades and the spotlight became his new addiction.
Now, hanging alone in the abandoned building, Cameron's mind raced. The past haunted him, but the immediate threat was Charaxes, and the unsettling realization that the creature might be someone from that past, seeking a reckoning.
The struggle against the cocoon persisted as Cameron's thoughts raced. He had to escape before Charaxes returned, and the realization of a personal vendetta lingered in the air. "Who is Charaxes? Why does he know my past?"
The threads of the cocoon seemed to tighten, just like the suffocating weight of Cameron's secrets. The layers of deception, the dual lives of crime and heroism, overwhelmed his thoughts. He felt trapped in more ways than one.
In the shadows, a distant sound stirred. The rhythmic fluttering of massive wings echoed through the abandoned building, signaling Charaxes' imminent return. Panic surged through Cameron as he redoubled his efforts to break free.
When the monster had attacked him with overpowering force, Cameron had desperately pleaded with him, shouting, "What do you want from me?!"
The chilling response came as a distorted blend of human mockery and unearthly cadence. "Reckoning, Cameron," said a voice like gravel. "A reckoning for the sins you thought you buried."
Now Cameron's mind raced to uncover the identity of Charaxes, apparently a figure from the past, wronged and reborn, seeking revenge.
The sounds of creaking floorboards drew nearer, and Cameron's struggle intensified. He had to escape the tangled web of his own creation before Charaxes returned to claim him as a midnight snack.
His heart pounded in sync with the approaching footsteps. As the creaking sounds reverberated through the abandoned building, fear clung to him, and he couldn't shake the irrational suspicion that this creature, this nightmare, might be an old henchman of his he'd thought long gone, but now transformed into a vengeful monster.
In the chilling silence, a sudden glimmer of hope emerged. The atmosphere shifted as a figure, unexpected yet familiar, stepped into the dim light -- it was the Cavalier, his old friend Mortimer Drake.
"Mortimer?!" cried Cameron. "Is that you, old man?" Relief washed over Cameron as the Cavalier approached, a beacon of unexpected salvation.
"Why do I always find you lying down on the job?" Mortimer Drake said with a chuckle. He was dressed in a sleek, form-fitting outfit of a fencer, retaining almost none of the frivolous look of a swashbuckler.
"Might not be the right time to ask, but -- what's up with the new threads?" asked Cameron. "Tired of being called the Fourth Musketeer?"
The Cavalier smiled and replied, "Just following in your footsteps, if you must know." Before Cameron could ask the obvious question, Mortimer answered him, "Yes, I've claimed the mantle of a costumed hero."
Mortimer went on to explain the unlikely series of events that had led him to find the Golden Wasp here as he began to slowly dismantle the gooey, cocoon-like restraints that bound Cameron. Freedom began to taste sweet, and Cameron couldn't help but feel a surge of joy at the sight of his old friend turned hero.
"It really is good to see you, my friend," Cameron gasped, his gratitude interwoven with the urgency of the situation.
"Don't go getting mushy on me, now," said the Cavalier with a twinkle in his eye, "we don't have much time. What's going on, Cameron?"
The Golden Wasp took a moment to catch his breath, the weight of the revelation pressing upon him. "It's my past, Mortimer. My past has finally caught up to me."
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Post by DocQuantum on Jan 23, 2024 6:45:02 GMT
The Woodside Military Base quivered under the onslaught of chaos, the air thick with the scent of impending disaster. Colonel Rick Flag, a weathered warrior, and the Suicide Squad faced a foe unlike any they had encountered. Klarion the Witch-Boy's magical prowess had shattered their strategic facade, leaving them vulnerable in the face of relentless enchantments.
Flag, his body a canvas of bruises, dragged himself toward Klarion, determination etched into every strained word. "Klarion, this is no game! The world teeters on the edge, and we need your help to stop nuclear war from destroying us all!"
Klarion's laughter reverberated through the silo, a haunting melody that echoed his amusement. "Games? Colonel, we've hardly yet begun to play! But since you look so comically worried, I'll entertain your plea a bit."
His wicked grin unfolded as he waved his hand, transforming the entire nuclear arsenal into a chaotic swarm of crows. The avian army, menacing and unpredictable, plunged the base into pandemonium. Shelter became a desperate necessity as the crows wreaked havoc.
Finally, the crows dispersed, leaving a bewildered Suicide Squad and Colonel Flag in their wake. Klarion, a trickster of unparalleled cunning, had completely vanished during the chaos, leaving only uncertainty in his wake.
Flag rose, his battered frame a testament to the struggle. The dust settled, revealing a cowed General Scarr emerging from the aftermath. The criminal mastermind's uniform, a tattered mockery of authority, bore witness to his prior transformation through Klarion's malevolent magic.
Flag's gaze narrowed as he surveyed the shaken General. "Scarr, what transpired here? Why is Klarion orchestrating this chaos?"
"Pig!" cried Scarr. "Pig -- pig -- pig! H-he turned me into a pig!"
With one backhanded slap, Colonel Flag brought General Scarr back to reality. "There's no time for this! Tell me what you know!" he demanded.
Gasping for breath, Scarr trembled with fear. "Klarion isn't alone," he revealed, his voice quivering. "He's allied with the world's deadliest villains, forming a united front. Their goal? World domination, Colonel -- starting with America!"
Determination and concern mingled in Flag's widened eyes. The stakes were higher than ever, and the world stood on the precipice, ready to face the impending storm of sorcery and villainy.
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Post by DocQuantum on Jan 23, 2024 7:39:32 GMT
The once-vibrant streets of Paris, now reduced to a smoldering battlefield, whispered the tale of chaos as smoke ascended to the heavens. Amid the wreckage, a metallic behemoth emerged with an otherworldly grace -- a colossal force of destruction crafted from stainless steel.
People scattered like frightened ants, seeking refuge from the impending menace that loomed over them, announcing itself as Conquest.
In the command center of the Dome, Belphegor stood with an unwavering gaze, her eyes ablaze with intensity. Telepathically commanding French paramilitary forces, she fought to defend the sanctuary within, knowing how futile their efforts might be without the might of the mostly absent Global Guardians.
"Hold your ground!" Belphegor's telepathic command echoed. "We can't let him breach the inner sanctum!"
Defenders armed to the teeth unleashed a futile barrage, their bullets bouncing off Conquest like mere annoyances. The metallic colossus advanced relentlessly, swatting away resistance with a ruthless determination. The Dome's destruction was his desire, and chaos his triumph.
"Your precious Dome will crumble before me, just as I planned!" Conquest's robotic voice thundered, drowning out the screams of a city in peril.
Within the Dome, Belphegor, gritting her teeth, faced the harsh reality. "We can't keep this up, Tuatara. Conquest is too powerful."
"What else can we do?" Tuatara, the New Zealander who could glimpse the future with his third eye, could offer no solace.
Suddenly, an explosion rocked the Dome as Conquest's onslaught continued, and bazookas launched missiles against the giant robot, but to no avail.
The symbol of hope in the heart of Paris turned to rubble as the Dome finally succumbed to Conquest's relentless assault. The colossus stood victorious, mocking the Guardians with maniacal laughter.
"Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Conquest reveled. "For years you mocked Colonel Conquest. Who is laughing now? I have destroyed your Dome! And this is just the beginning!"
Yet, in the midst of triumph, Conquest's metallic form was struck by larger explosives, causing damage even to his nigh-impervious frame.
"You haven't seen the last of--"
Conquest's lifeless form hung in the air, interrupted and frozen, his voice silenced by a sudden shutdown.
***
Elsewhere, in a hidden underground chamber, a smaller robotic body activated, consciousness transferred cunningly to escape destruction.
"--Conquest," the smaller form whispered, laughter resonating quietly. "The Guardians won't see me coming. This is far from over. Oh, yes. They will see me again."
***
On the devastated streets of Paris, Belphegor surveyed the wreckage with determination, speaking with Tuatara by her side.
"He may have won this battle, but the war is far from finished," she declared.
Evacuated Dome personnel emerged from the shadows, ready to rebuild and confront the looming threat, as the ruins of Paris whispered of a struggle that transcended the ruins left behind.
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Post by lawrenceliberty on Jan 23, 2024 17:15:29 GMT
I really liked the way you used Wasp and Mortimer! What you've done with Mortimer as far as I can tell at this point in the story is exactly what I'd wanted to do too. Nicely done.
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Post by DocQuantum on Jan 23, 2024 18:10:59 GMT
I really liked the way you used Wasp and Mortimer! What you've done with Mortimer as far as I can tell at this point in the story is exactly what I'd wanted to do too. Nicely done. Thanks! I didn't describe his costume well, but I thought it would look just like this different Cavalier from Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #32. I'll have to go back and add a better description. There are two more chapters featuring Golden Wasp and the Cavalier against Charaxes to come.
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Post by lawrenceliberty on Jan 23, 2024 18:45:43 GMT
Very nice! I like it.
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Post by lawrenceliberty on Jan 23, 2024 18:46:34 GMT
Do you think the Cavalier from Wonder Woman issue around the time of her Trials to rejoin JLA was a different man? He looked nothing like Mortimer Drake.
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