What happened

- vibrant green over blackness -
Burglary in progress

That is how it came across the screen during the night, which had been otherwise very quiet. Minutes later, Batman was there, beating the police, foiling the robbery. Nothing of value had been taken. Nothing that he had seen at first.

But as he threw the culprit towards the officer who broke the door down, the sound of tires on pavement -- the porch, he guessed, when he heard the chain link fence crash down -- drew his attention. There was time enough to hurl a magnetic tracker against the side of the van as it crashed through the back yard, through the neighboring back yard, and out onto the street one block over. There was also time to see the face of a child in the back window, as she was pulled down again.

The expression. He knew that expression. Recognized the would-be sound from her mouth as it made its silent 'O.'

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Continued from here

"I won't be going to see any movies until that bastard shows up here and undoes what he did. This is rediculous. Death, make your brother appear."

Desire took a long drag off of the cigarette that was perched between fingers.

"We'll go see the puppy movie once everything's fixed, Del."

If Dream didn't show his face soon, Desire was going to do something drastic. It hadn't been decided what yet. But something.

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Desire had been out of the loop for way too long now. Dream's stupid little punishment was keeping her locked in the Threshold. But she knew, knew that the other had to be having adverse effects as well. You couldn't just take one of them away and have it all work like it was supposed to.

You can't Dream without Desire.
You can't live without Dreams.
You can't have Death without life.
And Delirium was all completely wrapped up in all of it.

Who knew if those that were absent were feeling the same things.

The longer Desire was kept in this box he had made, the more devious thoughts sprung to mind.

What horrible things could be done to the people of The City.

Desire sat in the chaise lounge that allowed him to look out the eyes and into the world.

"You'll break soon enough, you pompous asshole. You know just as well as I do that you can't keep this up forever. As much as you might hate me, you need me. I'm a part of you." The words were spoken to the air, knowing that HE would get them, no matter what.

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Beeeeeeeeeeeeep!

"Millie? This is Deloris. I know you're on vacation, but when are you planning on coming back to work? Are you feeling alright? Are you drinking enough water, because you know that can help if you're feeling a little under the weather. You haven't gone on some kind of relapse, have you? Look, Millie, I'm sure that fine Rube gentleman can help you and get you through this. You just need to have some faith in yourself. And drink water. Drink lots of water and I know that you'll be right back on your--"

Beeeeeeeeeeeep!

George grumbled at her answering machine from the safe little nest she'd made under the rumpled comforter of her bed. It was a little bunchy where parts of the stuffing had gathered into inconsistent lumps, but George didn't mind. Just as long as she didn't have to go back to either of her jobs.

Her bed was a safe place.

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OOC: Gratuitous Pulp Fiction/Bible quoting at the end.

Also there is "gore" at the end. Nothing horrible as I can't really write gore, but y'know, just incase...

He'd seen this in a movie once.

At the time he'd appreciated it for the cinematic effect. It'd been a good scene. Loki, on the other hand, had talked nonstop for about two years about reenacting it. Luckily for the sinners of the world, under Bartleby's watchful eye that had not happened. The other angel had been sated with a few action figures which did a perfectly good job at playing out the scene, just with less blood and real death.

Bartleby felt slightly guilty now. Here he was, standing in an alley, facing a wall with two cowering young men in front of him. All prepared to play out the scene which Loki had obsessed over for two years. His knife was in one hand and he tossed it up and down. His white wings were at their full span. They weren't necessary for the occasion, or for the scene which he wished to recreate, but the effect it was having on the mortals sure was fun.

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Jesse had managed to stay drunk for several days. Not even a small break in the haze. He'd be proud of himself later, when he could remember what was going on. The talk with House was now a hazy dream-like memory. He could sort of recall what had gone on.

Which was why he was drinking more now.

Trying to forget.

He hadn't seen Max in a few days. Hadn't answered her emails. Except once. To tell her to not come over until he sent a message. Why she'd decided to listen to him now was beyond him, but he was glad of it. She really didn't need to see him like this.

Currently, he sat on the couch, bottle in hand, staring at a blank television.

The voices had tried to intervene, but he'd just had more to drink and they'd faded off into the darkness. Jesse was pretty sure that Genesis had never been this drunk, and that The Duke had no desire to watch him in this state.

It was a good kind of quiet.

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The first thought Kyle had when he felt the earth shake was, 'Damn. There aren't any signs up about how to handle earthquakes. We never had earthquake drills'. Then he looked at his light board which had fallen off of his desk smashed to the floor, and thought, 'Fuck.'

Then he saw the smoke.

That was when he finally thought to stand up and look away from his desk. How were his coworkers handling the impromptu earthquake. Or whatever it was. They weren't handling it very well at all, actually. For all he could see, they were running through the resulting smoke like chickens with their heads cut off. Kyle couldn't really blame them; they probably weren't used to stuff like this. Hell, he wasn't even completely used to stuff like this.

The art department for The City's newspaper was on one of the lower floors, so when Kyle finally got his wits together and started yelling and ushering people out of the doors, he could at least have some comfort in knowing they all had a good chance of getting out safely. No one seemed to notice when he backed away from the stairwell and ran back into the main area of the floor where all the artists had their desks set up.

He moved slowly through the smoke, making sure no one else was trapped in the room and once he was relatively sure, he raised his hand. A green gas mask covered his face, and Kyle took a deep breath, hoping that he hadn't already inhaled too much smoke. Next he created a lantern, which shined brightly through the smoke, allowing him to move quickly to the large windows.

Where was the smoke coming from? Kyle wasn't immediately sure, but he was definitely leaning more towards an explosion now. He just didn't know from where. Looking out of the windows, he could see smoke pouring from some of the lowers floors as well, and a slightly grey tinge in the air above make him think that something had to going on on the higher floors as well. Across the street people were pouring out of another office building and onto the street, pointing up at both buildings. Grey smoke was pouring from their windows as well.

The building shook again, and this time Kyle could hear an explosion coming from upstairs. It was time to get out.

Kyle backed away from the window, back into the smoke where he was sure no one would be able to see him as a green glow engulfed his body. When it died down, he was suited up completely, mask included. He had to help somehow.

Though, as he started breaking through the window so that he could fly out, Kyle couldn't help but hope that some of the other heroes in this place had heard the explosions. Because he was pretty damn sure that alone he wasn't going to be much good.

OOC: Just a note, as stated before, everyone can participate in this, whether your character wants to be a bystander or wants to try to rescue people or even wants to try and make the situation worse. Any of those options is cool! NPCs may even come and interact with your characters.

Don't worry. Something will come of this. So yes. Post!

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No one could say that Death wasn't good at his job, because he was. He generally took his responsibilities very seriously, and he had never missed an appointment yet. He was always there. He always found his way there. Which made this even more odd.

HMMM. Susan did not warn him about this. Death tapped his chin with one boney finger, and it made a hollow sort of tok tok sound. There may or may not be a smudge of sunscreen on his face. I SEEM TO HAVE MISPLACED MYSELF.

Or maybe Lancre just... changed in the time he was away. It was highly likely, given the instability of quantum, which he did not completely understand, if only because it was a wizard who had tried to explain it to him.

Death touched the wall of a building closest to him. It was very tall, and not very Lancarian, but it felt solid, like a wall ought to be.

The hiss of sand told him that he had precious little time left, or rather, some unfortunate person did. But if this wasn't Lancre, then why was he here?

...here for a reason. the world, or maybe just this one, had its ways of righting itself...

It didn't happen dramatically. It wasn't loud, or spectacular. It had a sound of a pained sigh. There wasn't even any screaming. One moment, the man had been at the top of the tall building, and the next, he was sprawled on the sidewalk, drawing a crowd, staining the bitumen with his blood.

Death watched as the last of the sand dribbled down into the lower bulb, and read the faint carvings on the wood. THOMAS GRAY? He asked, because it never hurt to check.

"Yep." The man stood up and made to dust himself off, before he realised that there was no dust. "Huh. I guess it worked, then."

Humanity. Death could never understand them. While some took careful steps to avoid him, others... didn't. YES. IT WOULD APPEAR THAT IT WAS VERY EFFECTIVE.

"Good for me. I'll see you. Or not." With that, and a very small sort of whooosh sound, he was gone.

Every one of them had been different. This one more so. Death was preparing for the inevitable "so, what now?", and was a little surprised when it did not come.

Death leaned slightly on his scythe and watched the crowd fuss over the man's shell. This was not Lancre, but there was always a job to be done.

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Jack was on the prowl. His encounter with Maxine, that lovely little pink haired girl, had put him on an upswing so incredible, that he hadn't stopped smiling in days. Or was it weeks? Or was it hours? Whatever. Who really knew.

He was peeking into houses and ground floor apartments.

"Yoooooou better watch out..." He sang low to himself. "You better not cry...actually. Do. Cause it's really fun to watch. Better not pout though, cause that just pisses me off. I'm telling you why. Jacky boy is stalking tonight!"

So far, nothing had really caught his eye. Nothing very exciting at all.

"He sees you when you're sleeping." He passed a darkened window, seeing a car out front.
"He knows when you're awake...." Another house, but the tv was blaring. He could see the shadows inside moving.
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The smoke had done him good. Calmed his nerves, and at the same time, provided the cool night air and fresh breaths that it could provide. Okay, so smoking hadn't been exactly breathing clean air, but it was out there. That counted. The violent feelings had seeped out of him, faltered. He was able to let them go. Amazing what a little bit of cancer could do for a guy.

And he took a bit of time, going back up. Looking at the place. The fancy things. He'd had things like this once. Well. They were never really his, but he'd lived in a house like this. Angelville. It made him shudder just to think about it.

Stinking of smoke, he finally returned to Max's room.
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Who: Jesse and Death
What: Breakfast finally
Note: Log finished with a narrative.

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There was a saying. Better late than never. Death had been around long enough to know that at certain times, it simply wasn't true. But this wasn't one of those times.

From the park, she'd hailed a cab, no longer certain if the button Bruce had given her was on or off. But with only a pair of pennies in her pocket and a single ten-dollar bill, she'd told the driver that he'd be paid at their destination.

Not much time had gone by before the front gate of the Wayne Manor buzzed. "Anyone there?" called a perplexed male voice. "I got this girl, she's saying someone here'll pay her fare?"

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Jesse,
I found something on one of the security cameras the people I'm living with have installed around. I was looking around for Didi, trying to maybe help her find the man who took that ankh she was looking for yesterday. Well, I found him and now I'm really scared.

I have the tape, and I was wondering if I could bring it to you to show you? I'm pretty sure about who it is, but you'd probably better confirm it, because you'd know what the Saint would look like better than I would, right? I don't know why he took her ankh, I can't tell from the tape, but it didn't look likehe hurt her other than that.

If you email me back, I'll head down to you as soon as I can get out of here.

-Max
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She'd found the park. But Didi could no longer remember why she needed to be there. She'd made plans, or someone had made plans. And the sun was telling her that she'd spent too long trying to find this place already - any business she might have had here was long over.

But still, she was here. The piece of metal in her hand was confusing her too. Someone had given it to her. But all she remembered about that was something to do with 2pm concerences and 4am REM cycles. And something about bats.

Fuck! Her ankh, she knew she needed her ankh. But why? What was it that was so swiftly slipping away from her grasp? She was important, she knew that. Someone important. She was Death. But... how was that possible? She was Didi. She was eighteen years old, her parents and younger brother had died in a car accident two years ago, and she'd been living on her own since, avoiding the social workers until she turned eighteen.

A dog was running up to her, tail wagging with utter glee. She kneeled down and petted him. "Hi, boy," she said, rubbing behind his ears.

To her surprise, she was not surprised when the dog answered her, telling her that Jesse was just over there and smelled worried. And that she smelled different, too. Didi nodded. "I guess I do."

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The sun was just breaking over the horizon when the figure appeared. And it did just appear. Nothing dramatic. No falling from the sky. No confusion. As if this being, unlike other citizens, knew where it was, and why it was there.

It was out of place, despite the understanding. The clothes it wore, something from the old west when such things were commonplace, were old. Not tattered, but well worn.

The skin, if one could have gotten close enough to see it, was leathery. That of somebody who'd spent life in the sun. Working. A hard skin for a hard being. Tough and impossible to break through. And the eyes spoke of Hell and horrors commited without the bat of an eyelash.

As the sun rose and spilled onto the face of the figure, it could be clearly seen that the tall, imposing body belonged to a man. If there had been any doubt.

He looked at his surroundings for a long while, one hand pushing back his long coat to rest on his belt, inadvertantly revealing one of his twin Walker Colts. Guns made from the sword of the Angel of Death. Guns that had never, and would never, fail him.

A cigar hung from his teeth, unlit for now. He grimiced into the burning sun, as if it would flinch away from the staring contest before he would. And maybe, if it'd had a choice, it would have.

He was here for one man.
One purpose.

But there was The City itself calling to him, taunting him with new things and new faces. And a power there that made his jaw clinch. Something that shouldn't exist because he existed. Something that pissed him off and caused him to bite through his cigar.

He spit out the paper and tobacco and set off in search of that power.

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After his conversation with the magician, Dream went immediately back to his palace, in the Heart of the Dreaming. Without a word to anyone, he strode to the Gallery of the Endless, where portaits representing each of his siblings hung on the walls. For Destiny, a book. Death, an ankh. Desire, a heart made of glass. Despair, a barbed hook. Destruction's portrait was black and empty, with a white sheet covering it. When the youngest brother of the Endless had made his intent clear to abandon his post, Dream had not agreed with his plan, but had respected his desires. The last portrait, for Delirium, contained a multi-colored, abstract swirl.

Dream examined the portraits. The sigils for Death and Delirium were glistening, at the ready. The others were frail, shadowed. Simple objects, nothing more. No trace of the power they should have held. More mysteries. But at least now he knew which of his siblings were accessible.

First was first. Dream took the ankh sigil in his hands. "Sister, I stand in my gallery, and I hold your sigil. Will you speak with me?"

The portrait canvas rippled, like a pool of water, and a pale hand reached out, followed by an arm, then a leg, and Death stepped out of the frame and immediately threw her arms around him. "Hey, little brother!" she said, her voice cheerful. "I was wondering when you were going to come and visit!"

She was here, and she was holding him. Dream felt himself relax, sinking against her, one pale hand cupping her head with his fingers threading into her hair. "Your portrait went black. For a time... we feared -- I feared... you had gone the way of the Prodigal."

Death laughed. "Without telling anyone? Never." She smiled. "I'm still working. Just me -- the main me -- is here. Like you." She tilted her head and looked around. "But this is the Dreaming. Right?"

He nodded. "A portion of it." He moved down the row of portraits until he came to the one for Delirium. Death smiled. "Family reunion?"

"There is not much family to call." Dream picked up the swirl and spoke again. "Sister, I stand in my gallery, and I hold your sigil. Will you come and speak with me?"

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Who: Death and John Constantine
What: Meet (Again) and Talk
Where: In a pub. Typical, huh?

continued in comments

[Constantine]: There's was something in the hero's code that demanded that they control wrong and right.

That they fix what is wrong the moment it rears it's ugly head. The moment something is amiss, they're on it like fleas on a dog, bitting at the trouble, shooting lazer beams or puzling out this mystery or that. Should one find themselves in an 'alternate world', they'd be running about, learning or fighting or striving to go right on back to the status quo.

John Constatine entered the bar with his eyes down, cigarette dangling form his lips as several weapons clicked bullets into chambers like suspicions from the regulars in the room. He didn't look up, just walked right up to the bartender, sat on a stool and waited.

[Death]: There was a pause over the room. A dozen pairs of eyes watched as Constantine took a seat, and the moment stretched and stretched, threatening to snap at any moment. From upstairs was the sound of a single shot being fired, and every nearly head turned up. Then, in the back, one man guffawed and snickered, and the normal chatter resumed.

Dimly, never heard by the majority of the bar, came the sound of wings beating from upstairs. Not long after that, a thin, pale woman walked down the steps, hands tucked into her pockets. She was heading for the door, but paused when she saw the newcomer, and took a seat beside him. "Well. I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

The bartender threw a paper napkin in front of each of them. "Whatllyahave?" he grunted.

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Ah, finally. Time to relax.

The last several days had been a riot of work and more work. But things were starting to slow down as the gangs became more organized. The rash of voilence had taken time to slow, and had taken further time to finalize the body count, as victims lingered and finally succumbed.

But now, it was a nice day. The sun was shining, and Death had found herself in a park somewhere around what she supposed was the City's center. A stray dog had been following her for a block or two now. It was funny, how animals acted around her. So pleasant, always wanting to play. Except cats. Cats always stood nearby, and wanted to be petted, but never let her touch them. She just assumed cats were funny about being touched, until one finally confessed that if she touched them, she, Death, would own them, and no cat could ever stand being owned like that. Dream, however, had once made a pact with cats, and they adored him for it. Cats were clever creatures, after all.

Humans were the strange ones. Always afraid, once they knew who she was. Animals always knew, and always loved her.

She finally stopped walking, and sat in the grass. The dog approached, hesitantly at first, but then she smiled warmly at it and nodded. "It's okay. I'm going to stay here a bit."

The dog sprang forward and immediately rolled onto his back, begging to had his belly rubbed. She laughed and obliged, happily.

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He'd asked Alfred to drop him off at the park. Which he had. He'd also asked Alfred to go back to the Clocktower and wait on Maxine. But the older man hadn't. Alfred stood now, leaning against the hood of the car, leafing through a recipe magazine. He hadn't asked a question about what had gone on inside, or why the scowl on Bruce's face had been so dark.

Despite himself, his mood, Bruce found himself appreciating the company that was a few yards distant and carefully not paying any attention to him. The sky wasn't exactly clear, but it was bright, sunlight reflected of light grey clouds. Within his coat, he was warm. The signs in the park mentioned a hot house full of botanical wonders. It seemed the sort of thing Bruce Wayne might look in on, so he headed there, slowly, giving himself time to think.

The decision was made even before he was halfway to his destination, as he paused over a line of ants scurrying across the cement walkway. Bruce hovered his foot over them, weighing their fate. Their deaths.

"Are you near ?"

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At first Babs had assumed the fuzzy glimmerings appearing on her screens were just natural glitches stemming from bad equipment. After all, the equipment wasn't hers, nor did she have any real control over it and therefore could be flawed. It began to appear in more and more instances though, usually next to people whom usually appeared to be talking to thin air.

Someone was tampering with her tapes, either that or they had some sort of scrambler attached to their person which distorted their image on camera. It was very frustrating to say the least. Sometimes Babs thought she could see at least a body shape... some sort of figure. But any recognition slipped away quickly and she was left wondering yet again.

She didn't like not knowing, especially when it came to her surveillance footage. It was important and not knowing something could cost someone their life when it came down to it, so Babs set to looking back over her tapes. The connection she was looking for came rather quickly, whoever it was spent a whole lot of time in and in the area around the City's main hospital. Babs immediately cleared the rest of her afternoon schedule and headed out of her clock tower. She would need a cover, but that could be easily thought up on the way to the hospital.

It took a little longer than she would have liked to reach the hospital, but it didn't take as long as it could have had it been bouncing around like the other buildings. Babs parked in the visitors lot and exited her van with a purse holding a few supplies, most importantly her laptop and a small camcorder. She wouldn't know the person she was looking for if she saw them in plain sight, but using her cameras she'd be able to track any shimmering that appeared.

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