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With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Thread Fourteen)

This Lex isn't in that position. Honestly, that doesn't sound like any version of Lex Luthor I'm familiar with. Even the version from Lex Luthor: Man of Steel had reasons for everything he did.

Reasons in this case an irrational obsessive hatred of Superman that he's repeatedly sacrificed power or the chance at happiness to achieve, when his success won't actually get him anything.

President Lex- President of the United States, the most powerful he's ever been and insanely popular, he gives it all up to shoot up some kryptonite laced Venom and put on a supersuit he got from Apokalips to attack Superman. Stupid irrational puppy kicking.

Pre-crisis Lexor- He dresses up as a supervillain to attack the planet where his loving family lives and where the people practically worship him as a living god. Stupid irrational puppy kicking. Culminates in him accidentally blowing up the planet and killing his own wife and child.

And the epitome of that is Superman: The Black Ring, where Lex Luthor gives up nigh omnipotent power and the undying adoration of everyone in the universe to try to kill Superman, despite him knowing beforehand that this had absolutely no chance at success.
 
Regarding the He-Man OL:

  • Do we have an OOC nickname for him? Like Saul, Raul, etc.
  • Has it been detailed, either in-fic or from Word-Of-Zoat, what happened to Skeletor and his (non-Evil-Lyn) henchmen?
  • As it's the 2002 series, has Season 2 happened at this point in time in the fic?
 
Regarding the He-Man OL:

  • Do we have an OOC nickname for him? Like Saul, Raul, etc.
  • Has it been detailed, either in-fic or from Word-Of-Zoat, what happened to Skeletor and his (non-Evil-Lyn) henchmen?
  • As it's the 2002 series, has Season 2 happened at this point in time in the fic?
Bullet points. Why?

The answer to the third one is 'yes'. I think the answer to the others is 'no'.
 
In the He-Man universe is Man at Arms Teela's biological father or just adoptive?
In the 2002 series it is implied that Man at Arms is Teela's biological father as well as adoptive but I don't recall it ever being 100% confirmed. For every other universe for all I know it is just Adoptive but I am not the expert.
 
Vantavendi (part 17)
21st October 2012
13:54 GMT -5


"That Alva guy give you any trouble?"

Alan stares morosely at the bottles of liquor lined up on the wall behind the bar, his elbows resting on its surface and his chin resting on his hands. His ring's glow is dim to the point where I can't see his environmental shield.

"No." I pull out the stool next to him and sit down, noting the glass of whisky he has in front of him. "I don't know if that was because none of the local superheroes were with me or if he's more different to Lex Luthor than I've been assuming."

"Mm."

"Though if what Rocket told me is right, I'm surprised that he's still alive. If I'd been going on a murderous rampage I'd have prioritised him above anyone else."

"You... Got any plans to do that..?"

"Do I have plans? Yes."

Alan nods, his gaze still distant. "But you're not thinking about putting them into action right this minute."

"Now you've brought it up I am. But I wasn't, otherwise." I make eye contact with the barwoman, who I'm pleased to see hasn't picked up a camera. "Orange juice for me, please."

A nod, and a quick grab at the under-bar fridge later there's a glass filled with orange juice in front of me. I take a sip.

"Did I-? Did I do it wrong?"

"Not as far as I could tell."

He nods sadly. "Could you see something..?"

"No, sorry. Between the demons in the guns and the blue light, empathic vision wasn't giving me anything useful."

"I figured. But I wanted to ask."

I nod, and take another sip. Time to have another go at convincing Britvic to rerelease Still Tango. Or… I could just buy it. And Ribena and Um Bongo. Or I could just license the old recipes; can't assume that everyone shares my tastes. That would actually-.

"Think of something?"

"Nothing relevant." I shrug. "Are there..? Old drinks from the thirties you miss?"

"They stopped putting cocaine in Coca-Cola before my ma would let me drink it. Twen'ies were a big time for cocktails but I was too young, and there wasn't a lot going on during the Depression." He turns his head just far enough to look at my drink. "What, are they watering your orange juice again?"

"No, just… Thinking about things I used to drink."

"Buying another company?"

"Maybe."

He takes a small sip of his drink, then catches me watching. "You know, I do remember Prohibition. I've known people who ruined their lives with drink. I'm not an alcoholic, but I… I do use alcohol as a… What do you call it? A coping mechanism, sometimes."

"I… Didn't…"

"You don't get on anyone's case about it, but you don't drink at all yourself." He exhales through his nose. "I don't even really need this to steady my nerves, but… God damn. She just shot herself right in front of me."

"Yeah."

"What the heck did she do something like that for, huh?" He shakes his head. "We knew the guns were possessed. She wasn't going to get punished for what they made her do."

"It could have been the guns-."

"It wasn't the guns. I could… I could feel it when I got through to her. She decided to shoot herself."

"We can't know why. She might only have got a moment of freedom and decided that she'd rather stop the guns killing anyone else than take a risk on us being able to free her. Heck… Even if she picked them up willingly to start with, she can't have known what she'd have been driven to."

"Or what?"

"'Or what' what?"

"You're not exactly known for your light-hearted up-beat outlook, Paul."

"It could have been the guns. Sometimes, when demonic creatures get exposed to emotions they can't process, they do uncharacteristic things."

"Like shoot their host."

"Or that might have been her being driven out of her mind by the contrary impulses. Or -given how her body disappeared- she might not actually be dead."

"I saw the back come off her head, Paul. I felt it when her brains sprayed all over the inside of my construct. Then just…" He swirls his glass around. "Poof. Gone."

"I'll try and get hold of Mammon. See if her soul ended up downstairs."

"Yeah. I'm going to finish my drink and then try and work out what the hell happened to make this whole mess happen."

"Alan, I'm kind of a psycho. You're not. I could take people blowing their brains out all over the inside of my construct all day and it wouldn't bother me. You can't, and it would. If you want to knock off early..?"

"I'd rather keep working." He exhales sharply, downs what's left of his whisky and deposits a few dollar bills on the bar. "Even if it's just fetching and carrying, I'd rather have something to focus on. Something to keep me busy."

"If you're sure."

"I may not be an alcoholic, but if you keep using a coping mechanism you can fall into the habit." I nod. "Bet you're impressed I know what a 'coping mechanism' is, aren't you?"

"I assume you and Guy talk about something when I'm not around." I raise my own glass to my lips to finish my drink.

"And don't call yourself a psycho. You're just resilient. Maybe a little callous. But you're not a psycho." He stands, his cape billowing around his bar stool. "Things going well at your end?"

"We're gathering information, certainly." I lower my empty glass and place my payment plus a small tip down next to it. "But since we don't understand why this is happening, we're just acting as drift nets until we get a better idea about what's going on."

"No red flags, then?"

"None so far. A lot about what the Alliance does is odd, but then this life isn't exactly 'normal' to start with."

"I'm not so sure. Diana told me once that back in Ancient Greece they didn't have any kind of police. If people wanted to keep them and theirs safe then they had to do it themselves."

I nod. "True, mostly."

"Then really, this sort of grass roots thing is a return to form. The unusual thing is people assuming that the police could handle things on their own."

I nod. "There's something to that. Ah, Alan."

"Yeah?"

"If you want to talk about anything, I'm just a ring call away, right?"

"Yeah." He nods, reaching out with his right hand to pat me on the right shoulder. "I know."
 
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I can never get over some of these names, holy shit the designers knew exactly what they were doing.
Kit_Smile.jpg
 
stares morosely at the bottles of liquor lined up on the wall behind the bar, his elbows resting on its surface and his chin resting on his hands. His ring's glow is dim to the point where I can't see his environmental shield

Ohh, shit, now I'm worried that he may become an alcoholic.

"Though if what Rocket told me is right, I'm surprised that he's still alive. If I'd been going on a murderous rampage I'd have prioritised him above anyone else

The guns may have been trying to get her to kill people who could reform or who's actions could lead to a lot of good being done.

Alva probably doesn't fall into either category.

Now you've brought it up I am.

'Now that you've'

Old drinks for the thirties you miss?"

'from the thirties'

Prohibition. I've know

'I've known'

she might not actually be dead."

"I saw the back come off her head, Paul. I felt it when her brains sprayed all over the inside of my construct. Then just…" He swirls his glass around. "Poof. Gone."

To be fair, a person blowing a hole through their head isn't a permanent thing in your universe.

Alan, I'm kind of a psycho.

No shit.

"And don't call yourself a psycho. You're just resilient. Maybe a little callous. But you're not a psycho

He's a bit of a psycho.
 
21st October 2012
I nod, and take another sip. Time to have another go at convincing Britvic to rerelease Still Tango. Or… I could just buy it. And Ribena and Um Bongo. Or I could just licence the old recipes; can't assume that everyone shares my tastes. That would actually-.
"Think of something?"
"Nothing relevant." I shrug. "Are there..? Old drinks for the thirties you miss?"
"They stopped putting cocaine in Coca-Cola before my ma would let me drink it. Twen'ies were a big time for cocktails but I was too young, and there wasn't a lot going on during the Depression." He turns his head just far enough to look at my drink. "What, are they watering your orange juice again?"
"

I can't imagine anyone missing cocktails from the 1920's much, as I understand they were invented largely to cover up just how nasty the booze often tasted what with the raw alcohol and being cut with stuff like formaldehyde.
 
21st October 2012
13:54 GMT -5


"That Alva guy give you any trouble?"

Alan stares morosely at the bottles of liquor lined up on the wall behind the bar, his elbows resting on its surface and his chin resting on his hands. His ring's glow is dim to the point where I can't see his environmental shield.
I see he isn't taking things well. It's probably not the first time he's seen someone die, of course, nor would it be the first he's seen someone commit suicide (Or at least attempt it...) But thinking that he triggered it, that might be weighing on him.

"No." I pull out the stool next to him and sit down, noting the glass of whisky he has in front of him. "I don't know if that was because none of the local superheroes were with me or if he's more different to Lex Luthor than I've been assuming."

"Mm."
I would assume he's trying to maintain his veneer of innocence. Not that it seems to work too well on the local heroes.

"Though if what Rocket told me is right, I'm surprised that he's still alive. If I'd been going on a murderous rampage I'd have prioritised him above anyone else."

"You... Got any plans to do that..?"
Nah, he'd only do it if he judged it needed.

"Do I have plans? Yes."

Alan nods, his gaze still distant. "But you're not thinking about putting them into action right this minute."
Would killing Alva right now improve matters for Dakota City? Probably not. Exposing his criminal affairs? That might help things.

"Now you've brought it up I am. But I wasn't, otherwise." I make eye contact with the barwoman, who I'm pleased to see hasn't picked up a camera. "Orange juice for me, please."

A nod, and a quick grab at the under-bar fridge later there's a glass filled with orange juice in front of me. I take a sip.
No doubt the sort used to make cocktails. Still, any drink is fine. Bet it sounds a bit comedically stereotypical for him, though. :D Orange Juice?

"Did I-? Did I do it wrong?"

"Not as far as I could tell."
In any other situation, it would probably have ended the fight then and there. :confused: In a good way I mean...

He nods sadly. "Could you see something..?"

"No, sorry. Between the demons in the guns and the blue light, empathic vision wasn't giving me anything useful."
Concerning. Suggests the lady has sunken herself uncomfortably deep into her role. Or the Guns aren't leaving her much freedom to feel.

"I figured. But I wanted to ask."

I nod, and take another sip. Time to have another go at convincing Britvic to rerelease Still Tango. Or… I could just buy it. And Ribena and Um Bongo. Or I could just licence the old recipes; can't assume that everyone shares my tastes. That would actually-.
Ah, the joy of companies 'retiring' flavours you love and no-one else seemed to. I know that feeling with potato crisps (especially tomato sauce-flavoured...:mad: )

"Think of something?"

"Nothing relevant." I shrug. "Are there..? Old drinks for the thirties you miss?"
Good, distract him from the thoughts of Crimson Avenger.

"They stopped putting cocaine in Coca-Cola before my ma would let me drink it. Twen'ies were a big time for cocktails but I was too young, and there wasn't a lot going on during the Depression." He turns his head just far enough to look at my drink. "What, are they watering your orange juice again?"

"No, just… Thinking about things I used to drink."
Yeah, he isn't that old, after all. Being in his nineties would put his childhood in the twenties... Wonder if he was into the pulps? His costume idea had to come form somewhere. :p

"Buying another company?"

"Maybe."
Not like he's hurting for money.

He takes a small sip of his drink, then catches me watching. "You know, I do remember Prohibition. I've know people who ruined their lives with drink. I'm not an alcoholic, but I… I do use alcohol as a… What do you call it? A coping mechanism, sometimes."

"I… Didn't…"
You didn't have to say anything, OL. Your face was doing all the talking for you...

"You don't get on anyone's case about it, but you don't drink at all yourself." He exhales through his nose. "I don't even really need this to steady my nerves, but… God damn. She just shot herself right in front of me."

"Yeah."
To be fair, not everyone likes alcohol.

"What the heck did she do something like that for, huh?" He shakes his head. "We knew the guns were possessed. She wasn't going to get punished for what they made her do."

"It could have been the guns-."
Would she have known that, though? I mean, I know she was a lawyer. But she may well not have been thinking clearly right then.

"It wasn't the guns. I could… I could feel it when I got through to her. She decided to shoot herself."

"We can't know why. She might only have got a moment of freedom and decided that she'd rather stop the guns killing anyone else than take a risk on us being able to free her. Heck… Even if she picked them up willingly to start with, she can't have known what she'd have been driven to."
Sounds likely, but there's still something else you haven't thought of, isn't there?

"Or what?"

"'Or what' what?"
Ah, he knows OL so well.

"You're not exactly known for your light-hearted up-beat outlook, Paul."

"It could have been the guns. Sometimes, when demonic creatures get exposed to emotions they can't process, they do uncharacteristic things."
It might not even have been a willing choice on their part. A kill-switch in whatever magical binding is on the Guns, to prevent capture and destruction. A safety release for the host to use if they can't feasibly complete a 'contract'...

"Like shoot their host."

"Or that might have been her being driven out of her mind by the contrary impulses. Or -given how her body disappeared- she might not actually be dead."
On the other hand, she still feels the pain of dying. Just as much as she feels her contractee's pain when it forms.

"I saw the back come off her head, Paul. I felt it when her brains sprayed all over the inside of my construct. Then just…" He swirls his glass around. "Poof. Gone."

"I'll try and get hold of Mammon. See if her soul ended up downstairs."
Maybe checking on the origin of the Guns, too? That's still a dangling loose end.

"Yeah. I'm going to finish my drink and then try and work out what the hell happened to make this whole mess happen."

"Alan, I'm kind of a psycho. You're not. I could take people blowing their brains out all over the inside of my construct all day and it wouldn't bother me. You can't, and it would. If you want to knock off early..?"
Don't forget, OL, he still has a big mass of Will in there. He's not quitting until this is done.

"I'd rather keep working." He exhales sharply, downs what's left of his whisky and deposits a few dollar bills on the bar. "Even if it's just fetching and carrying, I'd rather have something to focus on. Something to keep me busy."

"If you're sure."
And if nothing else, a Lantern is very good at heavy lifting.

"I may not be an alcoholic, but if you keep using a coping mechanism you can fall into the habit." I nod. "Bet you're impressed I know what a 'coping mechanism' is, aren't you?"

"I assume you and Guy talk about something when I'm not around." I raise my own glass to my lips to finish my drink.
And if the Guardians should take note of how well Hope and Will work together... Well, all the better. Perhaps one day there'll be a Blue Corps for Alan to serve in...

"And don't call yourself a psycho. You're just resilient. Maybe a little callous. But you're not a psycho." He stands, his cape billowing around his bar stool. "Things going well at your end?"

"We're gathering information, certainly." I lower my empty glass and place my payment plus a small tip down next to it. "But since we don't understand why this is happening, we're just acting as drift nets until we get a better idea about what's going on."
Quite literally trawling through the sea of data that is the Alliance, eh? Seeing what gets caught in the net? Sometimes the biggest things start out that way.

"No red flags, then?"

"None so far. A lot about what the Alliance does is odd, but then this life isn't exactly 'normal' to start with."
For a modern person, probably.

"I'm not so sure. Diana told me once that back in Ancient Greece they didn't have any kind of police. If people wanted to keep them and theirs safe then they had to do it themselves."

I nod. "True, mostly."
The closest thing they'd have is a rich landowner's personal guards, I suspect. Otherwise, if a bandit group showed up to a small farm, well... It came with a death sentence for a reason.

"Then really, this sort of grass roots thing is a return to form. The unusual thing is people assuming that the police could handle things on their own."

I nod. "There's something to that. Ah, Alan."
And when the criminals are running around with sci-fi weapons or enhanced physiognomy, normal cops can't do much anyway...

"Yeah?"

"If you want to talk about anything, I'm just a ring call away, right?"

"Yeah." He nods, reachign out with his right hand to pat me on the right shoulder. "I know."
Like the son he never had. Well, in this universe, at least.

So, Zatara didn't have something waiting in the wings to capture Crimson Avenger, eh? Not this time, at least. With any luck, the next time they spot her, they might be better equipped to take her alive. If nothing else, they'll know to prevent her lining up a shot on herself too. Still, she could do a lot of damage before she goes big again...
 
"And don't call yourself a psycho. You're just resilient. Maybe a little callous. But you're not a psycho."
Resilient, and probably a bit prideful about it as well. After all, if he's going to want to be a resilient person, it'll be because he thinks that's the best sort of person for him to be.
 
I nod, and take another sip. Time to have another go at convincing Britvic to rerelease Still Tango. Or… I could just buy it. And Ribena and Um Bongo. Or I could just licence the old recipes; can't assume that everyone shares my tastes. That would actually-.

...the fuck did I just watch?
Mr Zoat, if you have any context, I'd love to know it. The Tango ad, in particular, was... interesting.
 
I think that's alright.
'from the thirties'
'I've known'
Thank you, corrected.
...the fuck did I just watch?
Mr Zoat, if you have any context, I'd love to know it. The Tango ad, in particular, was... interesting.
Tango was a brand known for crazy adverts. Try watching some of the rest.
 
IIRC, Man At Arms is Teela's adoptive father/uncle while her actual father was Fisto.


I can never get over some of these names, holy shit the designers knew exactly what they were doing.

A fan hypothesi is that Fisto was gay and the whole adoptive father thing was a cover because Ethernia is very traditional and Man-At-Arms and the Sorceress had an affair but didn't marry because if they did their daughter would be a target.

In other words, it was a way to have a child of an unmarried woman in a children's cartoon.
 
Well that depends.

Considering Zoat made the Danner formula alchemical, I can't help but wonder if their enhancement is powered by their souls drawing in ambient energies ala Paul's tattoos.

And we've seen how Paul's tattoos left him vulnerable to being influenced by the energies his soul absorbs.

So it might be as simple as a wizard to send out a field of, to paraphrase the movie Simply Irresistible, "the women love me and the men want to give me all their money."

Unlikely, even if it was the wizard would need to construct such an emanation and make it more potent than the emenations of hell itself to really have a significant impact, and keep itupall the time.
 
Well that depends.

Considering Zoat made the Danner formula alchemical, I can't help but wonder if their enhancement is powered by their souls drawing in ambient energies ala Paul's tattoos.

And we've seen how Paul's tattoos left him vulnerable to being influenced by the energies his soul absorbs.

So it might be as simple as a wizard to send out a field of, to paraphrase the movie Simply Irresistible, "the women love me and the men want to give me all their money."
I always assumed the way it works was the Danner formula altered the biology of the person to allow them to perform super-human feats. The only energy needed was the energy to create the formula and implement the changes once injected into a person. So it's less like the Garrik formula making them draw energy from the Speed Force more a magic super drug that makes the person invulnerable/super-strong. Though I could be wrong tbh.
 

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