What happened

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.

( Read more... )

Who: Kyle Rayner, and Morpheus (Special guest appearances by Nada, Azazel, and the full cast of Hell)
What: War and Spoils
Where: Hell. The Dreaming. Home.
When: Immediately before this
Note: Part 2. This log was over 18 pages in MS Word.

[Morpheus]: "We do not need to ssssstrike, Dreamlord," the demon-insect buzzed. "Death would only be a releassssse."

The demons were getting themselves worked up into a frenzy. He was taunting them, egging them on. Until he saw the glow drop from the gates. Dream swung the blade in his hand, drawing attention back on himself.

Azazel began to laugh. "Methinks the Endless is afraid," he said in a mocking tone. "Resorting to empty threats and bad cliche, Morpheus?"

The blade flashed in the crimson light, and bolts of light seared through Beelzebub, bringing the insect-like demon to a spluttering end. Dream’s midnight eyes burned, glaring at Azazel. "Remember to whom you speak, little demon. I am Dream of the Endless. You would do good to respect me." His gaze was on the many eyes on the demonlord, but in the corner of his vision, he saw the green glow return, and a similar-colored streak moving quickly towards him.

"Enough of this talk," said Azazel, angered by the attack. "Seize him!" The hoards on all sides of him charged at once.

The wings folded under Dream's cloak, and the Prince of Stories dropped like a stone from the sky.

( Read more... )

Who: Kyle Rayner, and Morpheus (Special guest appearance by Nada)
What: Unfinished Business
Where: The Dreaming, The Gates of Hell, The Wood of Suicides, and the City of Dis
When:: Before Desire's 'Gift'
Note: This log was over 18 pages in MS Word.

[Kyle]: He knew that he had to sleep that night, but never before had it been so hard for his mind to drift off to slumber. Kyle was tired, that much was for sure. After his 'dream' that morning he'd gone to work and tried to act as if everything was normal, but that facade had been hard, to say the least, and exhausting to keep up.

He'd been too nervous to eat anything for the day either other than a small bag of chips. None of his normal caffeine was running through his system. Poor Frank had been awfully confused when Kyle walked through the store on his way back to his apartment in the evening without stopping for coffee. Instead, he'd gone straight upstairs, put his things away, and sat down in bed.

It was three hours later now, 11:30. Kyle was on his back, eyes drooping though not even under the covers, just continuously pondering exactly what was in store for this night. Hell. How many people got to say that they were going to visit hell for a night...

...and possibly not come back.

( Read more... )

The Dreaming was in chaos. Everything there, every thought, hope, dream, and fantasy reflected a single face, over and over again. Dreamers whispered her name in awe and worship. Thoughts of lust, hunger, want, need, jealousy, rage...

This was not the doing of any mere mortal. Not even the gods held this kind of sway.

Only the Endless did.

Rage fueled his actions. Already weary from the excursion in Hell, Dream had no patience for trying to sort the matter out diplomatically. His realm was in disarray, and removing the source of the problem would be the fastest way to setting things right.

Dream burst into his Gallery and siezed the sigil of Desire.

"Desire. I am in my Gallery and I hold your Sigil. Speak to me."

( Read more... )

Never make a deal with the Devil. You always ended up on the losing side.

Dream knew that. He'd known it for millenia. But sometimes, deals were inescapable.

Traveling in the City, he began to seek out some of the superpowered humans, the metas, the ones who might be able to assist him in this kind of ordeal. A journey into Hell was no light matter, by any stretch of the imagination. Across all the span of time, among all the creatures capable of having dreams, not once had the Prince of Stories ever encountered a single entity whose dreams of Hell were anything short of a nightmare. Especially of those who resided there.

Morpheus found himself in a diner. It seemed the mortal way - when one is searching for answers, to find it in the bottom of either a whiskey glass, or a coffee mug. Dream wondered briefly if answers could be found in such a way. Time would tell, perhaps?

( Read more... )

Dream had taken the time to prepare. He had set the Dreaming in order, and left Lucien in care until Dream returned - in whatever fashion he would be returning. There was no need to alert his siblings - the only one he wished to see, he would again, should the worst happen.

Matthew was his companion as they slipped back into the City. Ever-faithful, ever-curious Matthew.

"You sure you gotta do this, boss?"

"It would be rude not to respond to his request, Matthew. And unwise to defy it." Morpheus drew clothing from dreams, covered himself in more inconspicuous wear. The throb of the City pulsed in his veins, and he was reassured by the sense of the Dreaming so close, the dreams of the residents and of the City itself.

The bird was not convinced. "Who is this guy, to demand a meeting?"

"The Morningstar. The First. Apart from his Creator, the most powerful being in existence."

Matthew was unbelieving, and his tone implied that. "More powerful than you?" The Dreamlord's response was surprising and unsettling.

"Oh, yes. Much."

The bird was silent after that, sitting quietly on the shoulder of the Prince of Stories as they navigated the changing streets of the City. For Dream, the pattern was within reach, and he strode with confidence, turning as he needed, his route changing as the streets did. Soon enough, he arrived at the Lux, and opened the door to go inside.

( Read more... )

Dream was preparing himself for a confrontation with the Morningstar. Lucien knew this. But the Dreaming was being forcibly entered - again - by a source that had already been warned against such intrusion.

So Lucien did what any good and faithful servant would do. He delegated the responsibility.

Mervyn Pumpkinhead didn't know what HisExcellencyLordDreamO'DaEndless was preparing for. But when the librarian asked him to inform the Lord Shaper that some bloke was coming in, uninvited, he let Dream know in his usual manner. Marv pounded on the door twice before pushing it open enough for his large head to look in. "Hey! Boss! That batty bloke is tryin ta work his way in again!"

Morpheus turned towards the door, his helpet in both hands. The starlights of his eyes narrowed to two pinpoints of light.

"Ah, sit," the pumpkin-headed janitor muttered, reminding himself that librarians were not to be trusted on this or any other Plane.

Dream glared for a moment, then set the helmet on his head.

( Read more... )

It had taken a helluva long time to find his way back to the part of Serenity he'd landed with his ship. Chalking it up to his sour mood, and the bizarre collection of characters he'd come across, he finally found the one wing, and half a cargo bay that he was looking for. It was dark by then, and Mal was frowning. Not a single comm office in the whole damn place. Of all the rotten luck.

Scarf drawn around his neck against the cold (nothing too bad, he'd slept through snow before so this would be easy), he drew his long, battered, and proudly brown coat more tightly around himself, and sat down on the grating, setting his back against the slightly curving section of hull. A long breath drawn and released, misting before his face. Settling in for what he meant to be a few hours, there was'nt much more Mal could do wandering around a strange city in the dark.. except get his fool self lost.. he had to wait until morning.

"You know," he commented wrly to no one in particular, "One of these days my lucky streak is gonna peter out, and someone else is gonna run into these kinda problems..."

But he and his always got the bad breaks. S'what makes them special.
Brown eyes closed, and arms crossed for warmth against his chest, hands tucked under the arms, Mal did his damndest to doze off.

( Read more... )

Desire lounged in the heart of the Threshold. Not an uncommon act. Not strange in any way. But today was the first true day Desire was going to have in this new place called The City. And she was trying to decide what to do with it. There were so may oppertunities. But maybe exploration should be the first step?

He sighed. A cigarette hung gracefully inbetween two of her fingers, a constant accessory. Never go anywhere without it. What she really wanted was somebody to play with. Delirium was here, and she was always good for amusement, but no, what Desire wanted was one of those fun little mortals.

Another sigh. But which one? They all looked like so much fun. She'd been watching them ever since his arrival. Watching. Waiting. Culling out the ones that looked like they wouldn't be so much fun. But there was still such a list of potential playthings. How was one supposed to choose?

So. She was lounging. It was the best second choice that he could come up with. Lounge and then choose. Or lounge, and then go have a drink, and then choose. Or add a nap in there somewhere.

What a pain.
( Read more... )

"So it is true." The King of Dreams crossed his arms, a distinctly distressed expression hidden from his face.

Death rolled her eyes. "So what if it is? You didn't know for countless millenia. You're going to let it bother you now?" When Dream didn't respond, she stepped up to him and put her arms around his shoulders. "Hey. I've been doing this a long time. It's not a big deal. It's fun, actually."

"Fun?" Midnight eyes burned in her direction, though Morpheus did not withdraw from her embrace.

"Fun!" She pulled back a little, so she could look at him. "You know, fun's that thing that you don't get enough of." Then, looking at his eyes, she frowned. "You weren't supposed to overhear that, you know. Eavesdropping isn't polite."

Morpheus frowned as well. "You could stay with me, my sister. Here, safe in the Dreaming. Mortals have walked here before."
( Read more... )

Across the City, a thousand sleeping souls suddenly cried out as a blackness filled their dreams. The disruption was violent, but short-lived, and most of the dreamers dreamed on, waking up the next morning with no recollection of what had happened. Some were startled to full waking, and drifted back to sleep not long after. A handful resigned themselves to what sleep they had already gotten, and remained awake for the remainder of the night.

( Read more... )

The gun war began at rush hour. Or rather, at what should have been rush hour. People should have been driving home from work in the evening, getting ready to settle into their house shoes to eat dinner, or just getting back with little Jimmy, from soccer practice. Getting back with Candace, from ballet.

Throughout the City, no one could have not heard it. The first shot was more like a car backfiring than anything else. A sharp, rough sound at City Centre. And then there was a second, and a third. A downpour of these hard, piercing bursts of noise came.

No one wanted to step outside, to brave the criss-crossing of bullets.

The City was shifting, through all of this, scattering the firefight to every end and every beginning of its streets. Citizens kept their eyes down, and hoped from inside their safe, warm homes or their drab office buildings. The City didn't have a masked protector. Not that had shown his face yet.

Not really.


(( Bombs away, kiddies. All you do-gooders, go out and do good. All you baddies, soak in the chaos and join in the fun!))

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

She had taken to wandering the corridors of Wayne Manor in her night gown, waiting for whoever had been using her father's bookmarks to come home.

Instead, she had found herself face to face with an Alfred that was nearly two decades younger than she remembered him. She'd also seen a side of Alfred she never remembered seeing-he'd demanded to know who she was, and had all but physically thrown her out of the house when she'd told him.

And so, the cab that had been paid for pulled to a stop in the center of the unfamiliar city, in front of what looked to be a motel. She climbed out, shouldering the black duffel bag she had insisted on taking with her-the few remaining vestiges of her life, which included her suit and a small collection of weapons.

She stopped at an ATM machine outside the motel, trying her card. At the very least, her bank account seemed to be in tact, as her pin number worked and the machine spit out a small pile of bills. Enough to ensure that she was taken care of for the next two weeks, just in case, well, just in case her bank account disappeared too, as everything else that was familiar seemed to have.

She quickly stowed the bills inside her left boot, leaving just enough in her pocket for the motel room and some food. She went inside and checked in, making her way to the motel room and sitting for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts.

Last night, she'd been in her bed at dad's house, which she'd inherited two months ago. She certainly hadn't wanted the house. It held too many memories.

But she hadn't been able to bring herself to move, either.

She'd spent the last two months guarding the city with a growing intensity, bordering on obsession. As though taking up Dad's old mantle would somehow make up for the fact that he'd given his life because of her. Because of her lack of honesty.

Or perhaps taking on the role her father had been so unhappy to find her in was her way of lashing out at him, post-mortem. Her last rebellion against a man who had spent his entire life holding her at arm's length, moreso when she had needed him the most.

She sighed, changing from the nightgown she had been wearing into her costume, placing a mask on her face.

She found herself thinking back to the Mansion, to the man who, no doubt, accompanied the butler. Alfred wouldn't have expelled her unless he was protecting yet another occupant.

The original occupant, no doubt. Or, rather, the man she would always think of as the 'original' occupant, as she hadn't had the chance to get to know her grandparents or great-grandparents, etc.

Dad?

No, not exactly. And yet, she wondered if she would somehow find some resolution in seeing him, speaking with him.

Apologizing for the secrets she'd kept, for the fact that she hadn't been quick enough, or strong enough, or good enough to help him in the end.

Perhaps if he were able to forgive her, then she could move on. Maybe even, if... somehow, he was a version of her father from the past, she could prevent it from happening.

She shook her head, attempting to clear the thoughts. Now was not the time. What mattered now was finding out as much as she could about this city. She quickly stowed her collapsible crossbow in her boot, along with a few other weapons on her belt, and then climbed out the window, using a grapple hook to exit the balcony onto a nearby fire escape, climbing it to the top of a building and stopping, surveying the city. Nothing but twinkling lights and buildings that were a blend of the familiar and unfamiliar. She watched, blinking as, suddenly, a few of the buildings changed. Just like that, they were gone, new ones in their place.

She shook her head, as though to clear the hallucination, and then looked again. Nope. There it was again-another part of the city was moving.

She retrieved a small pair of night vision binoculars from her belt, looking through them, attempting to see beyond the buildings. The city itself stretched for miles, but beyond the mass of concrete skyscrapers, there was a dense wood-like nothing she'd ever seen, really. Certainly not like the woods she'd went to on a camping trip for school once when she was younger.

At this point, she was all for chalking this all up to one incredibly realistic dream. Or nightmare, for that matter.

And so, for the time being, she'd go along with it, and sooner or later, she'd hopefully find herself back at home, in her bed.

But the question was-did she really want that to happen before she got the chance to talk to this world's version of her Dad?

Attempting to again push that thought of her mind, she leapt from building to building, occasionally stopping to survey the city, still completely baffled by the mysterious changing of the buildings, and hoping that the motel she'd just shelled out for would still be there when she returned.

( Read more... )