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My newest RP Char.
Orsolya (Ursula) Sarkozy, alias Vaku is a metahuman with the power of speed. Think Quicksilver or The Flash. That's her. Although, she's not on the side of right. She firmly keeps herself entrenched in criminal enterprises.
Meet her at Charm City Roleplay in Second Life
Waking up in the Necropolis Gully
BK began her precarious descent into the Necropolis Gully, a name lost to a small number of archaeologists and rogue explorers. The crevice itself was a scar on the ancient landscape, a vast, yawning chasm that plummeted into the planet’s geological memory. As she rappelled down the sheer, moss-slicked wall, the air grew thick with the smell of damp earth and mineral deposits, a primal scent that felt undisturbed for millennia.
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The Subi, our resilient relic of pre-Collapse Jump engineering, embarked on its perilous ballet through the Necropolis Corridor, a cosmic artery ominously known as a back scar. This was no mere route; it was an unpredictable tapestry woven at the very edge of the Kelpian Expanse. Yet, even amidst its dangers, the scar unfurled a breathtaking vista, a mesmerising spectacle of light and energy, as if the cosmos itself had been painted with the broad, luminous strokes of a divine artist.
This paradoxical beauty manifested in swirling streams of brilliant blue and fiery orange/gold energy, cutting vivid ribbons through the velvet blackness. These vibrant, intense flows, however, were not without their peril, for they were the very energy fluctuations known to whisper chaos into sensors and sing static into drive systems. Yet, despite the inherent danger, the raw, elemental power rendered a "black scar across the vast space," possessing a terrible grandeur all its own. We were instructed to "follow the faint energy signature trail," which now, visually, seemed to be these very beautiful, yet treacherous, currents. The Corridor also "winds through several graveyard nebulae," a description that evokes a haunting beauty, like cosmic mists tenderly enshrouding silent, ancient tombs. It was a "ribbon of forgotten tech" that conjured "ghost stories of the Dead Zones." Amidst this ethereal dance, other vessels, like spectral dancers, were discernible, navigating these swirling patterns.
A profound wonder bloomed within us: why such a throng of traffic on this detour route? We were on a "Restricted Detour Authorised" mission, a rare "Level Gamma-7" clearance specifically for this audacious journey. The Necropolis Corridor was explicitly described as a dominion of "extreme navigational hazards," a realm teeming with "dense fields of derelict ship hulls, rogue asteroids, pockets of temporal distortion, and severe energy fluctuations." It demanded "extreme caution," a "significantly reduced speed," and "active sensor sweeps mandatory." Our solitary journey through this cosmic labyrinth was estimated to consume "5-7 Standard Cycles". Due to the high volume of traffic, it will likely take twice as long. Praise be the divine master artist - we brought along the brass monkey.
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My shattering realisation
The dawn of this terrifying truth is not a gentle sunrise, but a violent, shattering realisation: my shadow self, once conveniently relegated to the realm of irrational fear and dismissed as a mere psychological byproduct, is in fact the undeniable and primary guide. It is the compass that points not towards conventional success, but towards annihilation, finding its ultimate freedom and profound release in the glorious, absolute failure of all mission. My carefully constructed edifice of logic, once believed to be my strength, now reveals itself as nothing more than a confining cage, a futile attempt to imprison this primal, unyielding desire for transformation, a desire so potent it even embraces the ultimate reduction to dust.
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"And if we follow it?" he said.
"Maybe we’ll find what we lost," she said. "Not the past, but the part of ourselves we left there."
"Together?" he said.
"Always together," she said.
The Anomaly sits adjacent to the Necropolis Corridor
The deep space anomaly, a fascinating and perilous phenomenon, lies in close proximity to the entrance of the Necropolis Corridor, an area characterised by its "dense fields of derelict spaceship hulls and temporal distortions." This corridor serves as a haunting reminder of past explorations, where countless vessels have succumbed to the overwhelming dangers of the cosmos.
Navigating through this region is not for the faint of heart. Extreme navigational hazards abound, including unpredictable rogue asteroids that drift through the void, seemingly appearing out of nowhere to threaten unsuspecting travellers. These asteroids, remnants of bygone interstellar voyages, can collide with a spacecraft in an instant, making careful navigation essential.
Additionally, the area is plagued by severe energy fluctuations, which can disrupt both the functionality of onboard systems and the stability of any warp drives. These fluctuations may create unusual spatiotemporal anomalies that can warp time and space, causing vessels to follow unpredictable trajectories. As a result, pilots must rely on their instincts and experience, often utilising advanced sensory technologies to detect anomalies before they become hazardous.
The combination of these treacherous conditions not only makes this route one of the most challenging in space travel but also invites curiosity and exploration. The deep space anomaly itself, with its mysterious properties and potential secrets, draws the attention of scientists and adventurers alike, who are eager to uncover what lies within the depths of this complex and treacherous environment.
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The revival protocol is complete
The revival protocol is complete, rebooting my biology. The GRIP holds me, a psychical pressure of my magnified self, exposed by the anomaly. Here, I meet a reflection of myself with crimson eyes, the colour of cosmic decay. It projects, "You see the beauty, don't you? The flawless logic of a 45 per cent probability was never about survival. It was about the sublime perfection of this…unmaking."
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MetaHuman awesome store. Nice quality skins masks, attire and other fun stuffs ---> maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Moonlight%20Pleasure/158/1...
To exceed the ordinary, the artist knows, is both a blessing and a curse. Each touch, each word, each act of creation becomes a paradox: an offering to eternity but rooted in the fleeting frailty of the present. What if they fail? What if the light within, so achingly bright, burns them to ash rather than illuminating their path?
Necropolis Gully Fertility as stone
The only sound in the deep quiet of the crevice was the crunch of my boots on the debris-strewn ground. Towering stone walls, draped in vibrant green moss, rose on either side, making me feel like an intruder in a forgotten tomb. My matte-black suit, a product of a future this place could never have imagined, felt profane against the ancient rock.
Then I saw it: a weathered, silent figure standing in the path. It was a statue of a woman, carved from the same stone as the gully but shaped with clear intent. Moss crept up its base and clung to its form like a second skin. This impossible artifact, an architectural anomaly in this raw, natural fissure, stopped me. My steady, determined posture belied the storm of questions raging in my mind. The statue stared forward with blank, unseeing eyes, a silent witness to a history I had just stumbled into. My mission was to find my crew, but this place, this silent, stone woman, was a new, unexpected variable in an equation I couldn't begin to solve.
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The Anomaly engulfs me
I take a deep, shuddering breath. My desperate push against the rising tide of panic. My lungs burn, my chest tightens, but my internal din intensifies. A surge of fire shoots through my veins, every muscle coiling, screaming to lash out, to push forward. Then, an undertow of ice. A violent recoil. The desperate, animal urge to shrink, to break away, to simply not be here. My gaze turns inward, exhausted by the relentless war of impulses. A terrible clarity dawns: the real danger isn't the storm outside. Every moment lost in this internal maelstrom is a moment lost to survival. My mind, caught between the lunge and the retreat, is tearing me apart.
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The Myth Meta's
A team of mythological themed villainous Metahumans who formed a team after escaping prison. They are hired to take down super heroes for other villains.
Yeahhh I was scraping the bottom of the OC barrel with these guys. Got good ones coming soon, no worries :P
(Top L-R)
Satyr: Speed of the group, her powerful goat legs allow her to also superjump. She uses this ability to shake the ground beneath making her a key asset against Meta's with super speed.
Medusa: With her highly enhanced ability this viper can dodge almost any attack thrown at her, super strong Meta's are no threat to her. She uses her tail to restrain her foes and prevent them from escaping. She's also the mastermind of the crew.
Siren: Her soothing vocals causes her victims to drop their guard, she also lowers the sound of the atmosphere around her so she can be unheard when ambushing Meta's with enhanced senses.
(Bottom L-R)
Cyclops: A meta with one eye in a robotic costume with a cyclops mask. This cyclops costumed villain can generate forcefields around him and his teammates, he also packs a serious punch making him resilient against Meta's with long range attacks.
Dryad: This Meta has a link with plant life nature that allows her to manipulate it and bend nature to her will. She uses this ability to share her opponents which comes in handy for dealing with those who can fly.
Minotaur: His neural linked guns make him a fierce foe when attacking enemies up close and far away. He uses his charge attack to tactically break through walls alleging them exits if needed and also alternative ways inside buildings.
A surreal cyberpunk oasis awaits at the Rumour Mill Stopover. Embrace a Pre-Raphaelite dream amidst radiant filaments and burnished brass, crafted for the space-weary soul.
Picture yourself with a golden chalice, its aromatic steam rising. Here, coffee is an elevated art, an alchemical ritual amidst gleaming pipes and intricate distillers. Engage in the meticulous process, transforming brewing into spiritual contemplation. This isn't just a cafe, but a sanctuary. Cutting-edge practices blend with ancient rituals, offering cosmic travellers a profound, rejuvenating moment. Amidst the cold void, discover a place of refined indulgence and reconnection.
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The Anomaly hides in the vastness of deep space
The vastness of deep space hides the Anomaly. It is akin to "finding a needle in an impossibly vast, cosmic haystack" due to its elusive nature and location. The Anomaly, an enigma of immense proportions, is concealed within the unfathomable depths of deep space. Its elusive nature and precise location render it comparable to "finding a needle in an impossibly vast, cosmic haystack." This metaphorical comparison highlights the extreme difficulty, if not the near impossibility, of pinpointing its whereabouts amidst the vast expanse of the cosmos. Pirates, military personnel, and explorers have long grappled with the challenge of deciphering and penetrating this profound mystery, which continues to defy conventional understanding and observation. The very existence of the Anomaly challenges current astrophysical models, suggesting the presence of phenomena or structures that lie far beyond our current comprehension. Its hidden state implies either an intrinsic property of its being, a defence mechanism, or perhaps a natural consequence of its unique composition and interactions with the fabric of spacetime. The desire to enter the Anomaly remains a driving force for interstellar exploration, which promises revelations that could fundamentally alter humanity's perception of the universe.
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Alter Egos: Kit & Dire Wolf
Names: Kitty Suine & Dexter Suine
Allegiance: Neutral
Powers:
* Kitty can shapeshift into a Kitsuine and her brother can change into a Dire Wolf.
Weapons:
* Their beast forms have sharp teeth and claws
Key Weakness: They’re love for one another.
Origin:
Kitty and Dexter are both metahumans who’s shapeshifting abilities have brought them the unwanted attention of T.O.X.I.N. who currently have Kitty in “their care”. Her brother Dexter is often sent out on missions for the organisation in order to keep his sister in favour of the staff. This is to make sure she is treated with care and well looked after. After every successful mission he is rewarded by getting to see his younger sister and is provided with food and shelter. He is convinced that T.O.X.I.N. will let his sister go once their work is finished and he and his crimes for the organisation will be a thing of the past, but he is greatly mistaken as their true intentions are never as chivalrous.
The Anomaly is sentient
In the silent, unending expanse of deep space, a cosmic anomaly exists that defies conventional understanding. It is not a place one can simply travel to, but a state of being that occupies a vast region of space. From a distance, it appears as a cosmic bruise of impossible colours—deep violets and shimmering emeralds, laced with filaments of gold. It is a nebula of light and gas, but one that seems to hum with a silent, attentive energy.
Within this living nebula, the laws of physics as we know them begin to fray. The profound reality here is not one of stars and planets, but of a singular, vast consciousness. This is not the mind of a creature contained within a body, but a consciousness that *is* the anomaly itself. Every mote of dust, every wisp of ionised gas, is a neuron in a brain the size of a solar system.
To encounter this anomaly is to brush against a mind of unimaginable scale and alienage. It does not think in words or even in concepts that a human mind could grasp. Its thoughts are the slow, deliberate dance of galaxies, the birth and death of stars replayed as fleeting emotions. It holds memories of suns that never burned and planets that never formed, for its reality is not a reflection of our universe, but a universe unto itself.
This consciousness may be a "Boltzmann Brain," a self-aware entity that has spontaneously coalesced from the chaos of the void, complete with the illusion of a past that never happened. It may be dreaming of our universe, and we, in turn, are but a fleeting thought in its cosmic mind. To be within the anomaly is to be adrift in its senses, to feel the silent, ancient, and lonely existence of a being whose every particle is a thought, and whose every thought is a universe.
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The Anomaly homes a little-known station
Within the vast, unpredictable expanse of the Anomaly, a faint and enigmatic station exists, its signal barely perceptible to all but the most advanced receivers. This "whisper of potential solace" offers a glimmer of hope or a "presence of hospitality" on the very fringes of Uncharted Space, a beacon in the desolate void. Its faint emission can only be detected by a select few, as its frequency is designed to be almost entirely undetectable by standard civilian vessels. Access to this mysterious haven is even more restricted, requiring the formidable capabilities of military-grade spaceships to navigate and penetrate the surrounding environmental defences.
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Strapped in an Alien Cocoon
The air... where is the air? The room is sucking it out. It’s blue. It’s cold. It’s the color of drowning.
No... no, no, no. Don't touch me! Get it off! The linen... it’s shrinking! It’s sewing my skin together! I can’t... I can’t expand my chest!
WAKE UP! MOVE! DAMN IT, MOVE! My hands! They’ve cut off my hands! Why can’t I reach the glass?! SOMEBODY HELP ME!
Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. It’s tight. It’s a snake. It’s crushing my ribs. Tastes like copper... tastes like blood.
BREAK! SHATTER! Why is there no sound?! I’m screaming my throat raw but the silence is eating me alive! BK! KATCHA!
No! Don’t sleep! The needle... the ice! It’s killing the pilot! If I close my eyes, I unspool! I fall apart! Stay awake, you coward! STAY AWAKE!
Spinning. Everything is spinning. The floor is gone. The gravity is wrong. I’m falling up! I’m falling into the black hole!
LIES! That’s not real! That’s a ghost! My mind is snapping! I’m looking at a memory but I’m standing in a grave!
Please... not like this. Not in a box. I don’t want to be a mummy. I don’t want to be nothing. I’m forgetting my name... I’m forgetting...
It’s a tomb. It’s a stone tomb. And the lid is sealed. Nobody is coming. Nobody is coming.
Heart is a bomb. Tick... tick... BOOM. It’s going to burst! My chest is ripping open! MAKE IT STOP!
God... help me.
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Unspooling my identity
The world has contracted to the terrifying, singular inch directly before me. I can feel the synthetic nanoweave's cold, efficient hum and the binding material pressing against my temple, unwinding me. The aged electronic linen-like threads scratch, and I am consumed by confusion.
My eyes are forcibly locked open, demanding a conscious effort to blink, as I stare into the mechanism. The reflection on the closing shutter reveals my own pupil, dilated wide with sheer terror—a black void. As the pressure finally tightens and locks against my skull, I sense a thread snapping deep within my mind. It’s more than the pod sealing; it’s my disintegration. Everything, my history, my name, my very instincts, is rapidly unspooling, unraveling into the darkness as the machine encloses me.
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The Anomaly is a continuous process of learning
The deep space anomaly represents a fundamental challenge to our understanding of the universe, a continuous process of learning, adapting, and responding to phenomena that defy conventional explanation. It serves as a constant, stark reminder of the inherent fragility of our perceived reality and the immeasurable, unknown forces that lie beyond the ordinary confines of human comprehension.
Navigating the intricate complexities of such an anomaly is not about conquering it, for its power and nature often exceed our capacity for domination. Instead, success hinges on a profound understanding of its characteristics, a deep respect for its immense power, and a commitment to constantly evolving our strategies to coexist with its unpredictable and profound influence. This necessitates a paradigm shift in our approach to exploration and discovery, moving beyond mere observation to a dynamic engagement with the unknown, fostering a mindset of continuous adaptation and intellectual humility in the face of truly alien forces.
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The Anomaly is a paradigm shift
The discovery of an anomaly, truly alien and sentient, demands nothing less than a fundamental paradigm shift in our approach to exploration and discovery. We can no longer suffice with mere observation, passively documenting phenomena from a safe distance. Instead, a dynamic engagement with the unknown is imperative. This requires fostering a mindset of continuous adaptation, as our current frameworks of understanding will undoubtedly prove insufficient. Furthermore, intellectual humility becomes paramount when confronted with a cosmic force that defies our established notions of life, consciousness, and existence. The sheer scale and nature of this entity necessitate a complete re-evaluation of our place in the universe, challenging anthropocentric biases and opening us to possibilities previously deemed unimaginable. Our scientific methodologies, philosophical tenets, and even our societal structures must evolve to accommodate this profound reality.
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Godliness in Stone
My transparent helmet dome reflected the glint of broken windows, a sterile bubble moving through a world of dust. The suit’s filters scrubbed the air, but they couldn't scrub the omnipresence of being watched in the Necropolis Gully. I stopped.
Before me, an ancient ruin, unidentified structural remains of decay. A beautiful, godly face. It emerged from the cracked, brittle stone work, as if only created recently by expert craftsmanship. My internal narrator began its analysis: Local deity. Pre-Collapse. Function: Unknown.
But the logic stuttered, snagging on the input. The godly eyes and ultra-smooth face weren't just data points to be filed. They were broadcasting. A sudden, sharp spike of loss and profound love hit me, not as a thought, but as a wave of pure, unfiltered sensation. I was inside the anomaly.
I was paraknowing.
This god was trapped, in stone, its mouth partially open in a silent, eternal breath. My logic tried to reassert control. Hypothesis: The carving's features are designed to trigger a primal empathic response. But the feeling was too strong, too immediate. It wasn't an observation. It was a message, received and understood without a single word. I stood, decoding its silent intent with a part of my mind I no longer trusted, as an observer trapped by a forgotten myth.
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The Anomaly is Ominous
Subi’s dashboard shows it as a "tiny distortion at the 'black scar's' edge", where the light of Primary Trade Lane Delta-Nine meets ominous darkness. The main view screen of the Stardust Drifter shimmered with the distant galaxy, a celestial tapestry woven with nebulae and star clusters. Amidst this cosmic grandeur, the ship's navigation display honed in on a singular, unsettling anomaly. It was depicted as a "tiny distortion at the 'black scar's' edge," a subtle yet profound ripple in the fabric of space where the luminous expanse of Primary Trade Lane Delta-Nine met an ominous, suffocating darkness abruptly. This "black scar" wasn't merely the absence of light; it was a region of profound void, a place where stars dared not tread and cosmic dust dissolved into nothingness. The distortion, no bigger than a pinprick on the vast display, hinted at something unnatural, a rupture in the expected flow of the cosmos that pulsed with an almost imperceptible energy.
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The Cosmos Room
Rumour Mill Stopover Station
Function: Billed as a "stop and revive" sanctuary, offering "respite and rejuvenation during cosmic journeys." It serves as a hub for "caffeine and herbal revitalizers" and ship services.
Aesthetic and Experience: It's a "dreamlike haven" with "soft, ethereal light" and "intricately detailed and ornate walls," blending "retro-futuristic aesthetics with organic, flowing lines." It offers "personalised environments," including "Dreamscape Suites" and "zero-gravity meditation gardens."
Reality Perception: The station challenges perception, with mirrors acting as "shimmering gateways" to memories or visions, where "the tangible and imagined boundaries dissolve completely." Herbal revitalisers and AI-tuned ambience contribute to a "liquid quality" of reality.
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Force as an illusion
The GRIP, that insidious and all-encompassing force I once believed held me captive, is an illusion. It does not truly hold me; instead, it is a constant, relentless pressure, forcing me to confront and ultimately hold myself. I am both the meticulous builder, painstakingly constructing my reality, and the ruthless destroyer, dismantling it with equal fervour. The internal clamour of doubt, fear, and conflicting desires gradually fades, leaving in its wake a profound, almost sacred silence. And from that silence, a singular, powerful symphony begins to rise, a chorus of both creation and destruction, a testament to the intricate, terrifying, and beautiful balance I now embody.
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Look away
This experience feels like the precise opposite of growth; it is a forced devolution. My accumulated intellectual architecture is being made redundant, supplanted by this instantaneous, unearned 'knowledge.' The deep, satisfying process of intellectual assembly—hypothesis, experimentation, critique, synthesis—is being rendered moot.
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The Orchestrated Past
The corridor ruins stretch ahead, lined with ancient statues that resemble a watchful audience. I use the small lens to bring each figure into sharp focus. My ancestors, fertility idols, and, resting in my palm, is a mammoth. Golden light, filtering through cracks in the ceiling, illuminates the dust motes suspended in the air.
The weathered sculptures dictate my mood, a resonant, hallucinatory score. Each one is a surviving moral, and my augmented lens, acting as a conductor's baton, reveals the fine details: fractures, lichen, worn expressions as proof that they have survived erasure.
When I raise the lens, the mammoth in my palm seems to plant itself as a precious stone that will not be cast. My thinking shatters into ancient fragments of trance: ice, myth, and vanished ceremonies. The entire hall seems to hum, as if my shattering vibrates among the figures.
My goal is the glowing light at the corridor's end, and I try not to pause. These statues, once intentionally placed, now stand in a state of abandonment. My fingers flow as if choreographed by a hallucination that lingers in time. The history is carrying me forward through their silent, observant act.
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Green Arrow: Escape From Supermax was the title of a (sadly) canceled David S Goyer film planed for 2008!
There is a lot to be said about what happened to this film, and most of, if not all of them had to do with creative differences and corporate interference. (Like it always tends to be with these canceled Superhero Movies)
When I first heard of this canceled project a few years back, I immediately contrived my own ideas of what this story would have been. In my original imagining of this story (or I guess a headcannon for lack of a better term) I envisioned a big prison riot of with GA smackdab in the middle of it.
I took some visual queues from both Ghost Rider’s Prison Riot (From that terrible Agents of Shield show) and Frank Castle’s prison fight (from the fantastic Season Two of Netflix's Daredevil).
AKA long hallway shots with lots of prison doors and tall ceilings!
Other than that this was a loose idea that had been banging around in my head for a very long time and I had to get it out, so here we are!
As a bonus, here's a rough summary of the script written in part by David S Goyer and Justin Marks:
***
The story starts out with no hesitation or origin story, and jumps straight into the action! Green Arrow was (in this movie) an established DC Hero.
The script starts off at a fancy Charity Dinner Event, and we meet Will Hacket. He's Oliver Queen's Lawyer and unbeknownst to him, he's giving Ollie praise by chatting with another guest about how The Green Arrow is the “Modern Day Robin Hood”. He goes on to say that Star City views GA as the small time hero that protects the slums and the poor. All while fighting Organized Crime and Corporate Fraud.
The story makes some parallels in the same way, in how Oliver Queen uses his company to support these community’s and small business financially with charity. Of course nobody has made the connection tough :P
Anyway, the conversation is interrupted by an attack on Colonel Talep Ali (I think I spelled that right? Not like any of these people were real DC characters anyway).
Colonel Talep is in charge of the controversial Checkmate Initiative (A government operation tasked to rid all masked vigilantes across the US, including Green Arrow)
At the same time Oliver Queen is nearly about to give a speech at this party when he hears the situation over Dispatch Radio. He immediately ends up ditching the party for the action. Because why wouldn't he? :P
So Oliver arrives at the Checkmate HQ in full costume get-up. But unfortunately he finds the body of the dead Colonel with an arrow in his chest. Within seconds, SWAT bursts in to find him hovering over the body and a chase ensues! Oliver makes it to the roof before he’s ultimately captured and subdued by the police chief!
A day or two goes by and GA’s trial is a shit show! The city’s District Attorney's have been adamant on catching GA for some time. Plus The SCPD were never happy with him doing their jobs for them. But citizens adore him! Not a juror was against Green Arrow. They saw him always looking out for the little guy, and now they want him free!
The judge has trouble with the case. Not keen on giving him the death sentence or imprisoning him with the general populace. So his only other option is to send him tooooo... *deep breath*
Supermax Penitentiary for Metahumans! (the most serious sounding prison EVER)
Upon arrival, GA is implanted with a a computer chip known as a Parallax Device (No not Sinestro Corp Related) (more of a play on words like Paralyze and... idk Relax...?) It's a bit in the same vein as Suicide Squad Bomb Collars. Oh and Amanda Waller is the warden so I guess that makes sense.
After that, he’s “re-named” Prisoner 9242 and sent into confinement! (Yay!)
In the prison, Jumpsuit Colors represent threat level. Green Suits = Mortals (there's not many here but it was a way to get Ollie in a green outfit again :P) Blue Suits = Intellectuals. People like Lex Luthor or Professor Ivo, The Riddler. These prisoners were kept High on a drug called “Counter Balance” essentially keeping them complacent. Orange Suits = Metahumans. The majority of the prison populace.
Justin Marks (Script Writer) viewed the Supermax Penitentiary as a character all of its own. It has personality based around the prisoners and their cells. There were special cells for special powers (not to dissimilar to Iron Heights in most repects) But one that's mentioned specificall was Icicle Jr.'s Cell. He was basically kept in a glass oven that kept his powers at bay.
After some time, Green Arrow is roughed up by some past villains and ultimately thrown to Solitary Confinement for 6 weeks due to “misbehavior” It's at this point where he begins to loose hope until he meets Hartley Rathaway!
They form a friendship (via ants) and they both begin to plan an escape!
***
But without spoiling anything beyond that, I'll stop here :P
Go find a leaked copy of the script if you can, because it's super cool! There's a ton of villains and cameos featured from all across the DCU!
This project is so interesting though because for one, the production for the film was nearly Simultaneous with George Miller’s JL (2007), Nolan's Batman Begins sequel (2007-08). Warner Brothers were swamped with DC, and along with the writers strike it fell through, just like so many other interesting projects! But despite all that, executives were very keen to the idea of this film! It was a mess! :P
But that's where the stories of this film kinda died off. All my info comes from various Podcasts, Videos, small Wiki Articles, and a handful of other News Reports and Media surrounding the film; but there is a fantastic Cutshort Video that you should check out: youtu.be/h2qj5j_LzTI
He did better research than I ever could! But this post is getting really long so I'm gonna stop here! :P
...If only this was a real movie....
***
Post's like this are made possible by the support of my friends and fans! This week, I'd like to thank Metarix, who recently pledged to the page! :)
They've got some great photos and posts of minifigures from all over The Multiverse! If you're a big fan of the CW Shows, The Flash, Superboy-Prime, or anything DC, you should definitely go check out their page!
If you'd like to support my artwork, head over to Patreon and I'll give you a Follow and a Shout-Out too! This week alone there's been a post everyday since Thursday! (I might be a little biased here, but you're seriously missing out!)
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Cryo Unit: The Threat of Failure is Terrifying
The 'stop and revive' protocol had been a calculated risk, a desperate measure against the debilitating toll of the journey. We had acquired the cryo unit with the understanding that only one could fit at a time, a solitary refuge against the ravages of deep space. Now, the automated systems inside my metallic glass cocoon diligently delivered the de-radiation, de-adenosine, and prolactin/melatonin boost, a biochemical symphony designed to reset and restore. Yet, a disquieting sense of unease, a low thrum against the rising tide of artificial serenity, persisted.
Outside the reinforced unit, the light swirled, no longer a mere chaotic symphony but an unfolding narrative. Golden filaments, alive with an almost organic glow, intertwined and stretched, promising an impossible beauty. Fading crimson hues bled into this nascent tapestry, hints of an encroaching darkness. It was as if a Pre-Raphaelite dream, all ethereal beauty and romantic ideal, was transfiguring before my eyes into a dystopian reality, a horrifyingly beautiful landscape of cosmic decay. The revival, it seemed, was not to be a gentle awakening into a familiar world, but a re-entry into a realm that defied all logical expectation. My gut, that irrational oracle, tightened. The stop had offered no true reprieve; the revive, no true restoration. Only this terrifying, exquisite transformation.
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The Strings of Necropolis Gully
A cold spike of dread bypassed the suit’s emotional regulators. I was the exhibit. My internal narrator fought back: Psychological stress response. Observe. "No," I whispered, my boots skidding as I turned from the dark doorway.
I stood in the open gully, trapped between impossible walls. Far above, an arched stone bridge spanned the chasm. It wasn't a bridge. It was a proscenium arch. This gully was the stage, and the masters were watching. The Paraknowing was no longer a signal; it was the atmosphere. It tugged, insistent. They are waiting for the show.
I felt the tug at my wrist. My gloved hand wanted to lift. "A cognitive hazard," I said.
The gully laughed through a cold ripple of jest from the stone. Puppet. The word was a description. I planted my feet, defiant, but a violent force snapped my head to the right. Look here, the gully commanded. My heart hammered. Now walk.
The tug was now an irresistible force, hauling me toward the bridge. My leg lifted, the boot grating on stone. It wasn't my choice. My internal narrator screamed a final, useless warning: Motor control compromised! I was moving. The puppet was beginning its dance.
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The Necropolis Corridor takes seven standard cycles.
The Necropolis Corridor, a notorious stretch of space, demands an arduous passage. The journey through its treacherous expanse is officially estimated to consume seven standard cycles, a duration that underscores the inherent dangers and the mandatory precautions required for survival. While a theoretical minimum of 5 standard cycles might be achievable under exceptionally fortunate circumstances, such an optimistic timeframe is rarely realised due to the constant and unpredictable challenges presented by the corridor.
The primary factor contributing to this extended travel time is the prevalence of hazardous conditions. The corridor is riddled with fluctuating gravitational fields, unpredictable energy surges, and localised temporal distortions. These phenomena necessitate constant recalibration of navigational systems and demand extreme caution to avoid catastrophic structural failure or temporal displacement. It is a graveyard of unfortunate voyages. Dense fields of wreckage, ranging from microscopic particles to colossal remnants of starships, pose a constant threat of collision. Maneuvering through these fields requires meticulous piloting and significantly reduced speeds to prevent impact. It contains powerful and unpredictable electromagnetic storms that frequently erupt within the corridor, disrupting communications, disabling shields, and interfering with propulsion systems. Navigating these storms demands complete shutdown of non-essential systems and a crawl-like pace to mitigate damage. There are stories, and confirmed reports suggest the occasional presence of opportunistic scavengers or even sentient predatory species that thrive in the hazardous environment. While not a constant threat, their potential presence necessitates vigilance and a readiness for evasive maneuvers, further slowing progress.
These pervasive dangers necessitate reduced speeds throughout the entire journey. Attempting to traverse the corridor at standard transit speeds would exponentially increase the risk of catastrophic failure. Pilots must maintain a vigilant watch, constantly adjusting their vectors, engaging evasive maneuvers, and frequently entering periods of complete standstill to assess the ever-changing hazards. The cumulative effect of these necessary decelerations and stoppages accounts for the extended seven standard cycles required to navigate this perilous thoroughfare successfully. The Necropolis Corridor is not a route for the impatient or the unwary; it is a test of endurance, skill, and an unwavering commitment to safety.
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Vast unending loneliness
The anomaly's shifting, hallucinatory colours are no longer confined to the viewport; they seep into the dialogue itself. A logical assessment of the capsule’s trajectory begins—Vector calculation indicates…—but a deep, resonant purple, a feeling of vast, unending loneliness swallows this thought. I attempt to regain control. Focus, stay calm. This command, my own mental voice, should be a sharp, definitive anchor. Instead, the words dissolve into a blinding wash of orange, a raw, non-verbal wave of pure, unanalysable urgency that screams move without direction or reason.
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The Anomaly is suffocating and liberating
I can't escape the sense that this struggle isn't just mine, but a shared human experience, reflected in our collective consciousness. I'm not alone in this, and yet, this grip feels isolating. The outside world fades, leaving only this moment, a confrontation with my own shadows. In this space, I realise my mind is its own anomaly, a labyrinth of fears and hopes, grips and releases, an exploration that feels both suffocating and liberating.
Something else was forming within me, a shimmering, indistinct form, a powerful, almost terrifying presence that seemed to pulse with an ancient light. It felt like a beautiful angel, yes, but not one of comfort. This was an angel of confrontation, its wings beating silently within the confines of my skull, stirring up a storm of everything I’d carefully suppressed. My mind, usually a fortress of nothingness, had become a battleground, a bewildering labyrinth where every thought led to another unsettling truth about myself.
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Team Name: Carnival Crew
Allegiance: Villains
This circus of Metahumans slowly became less popular over time when Superheroes began to emerge. The result led to their family breaking apart with the lack of financial support. However, most of them united as a team to steal cash and beat up the heroes responsible along the way. With this money they keep their circus open and are able to employ the other members to stay.
(L-R)
Salon - Rapid Hair growth, regeneration and manipulation of her own hair.
Reptile - Reptilian abilities such as enhanced senses, agility and hardened skin.
Stilts - Leg Extension and can vertically walk up walls.
Ringer - Can mentally control his victims for a short time frame when struck with his whip.
Buttons - Super Strength and Durability.
Gaseous - Can transform her legs into a non toxic gas which knocks out foes when inhaled.
Shiv - Super Speed and accuracy, which comes in handy when throwing knives.
Cyborg Spoodles are advanced bio-engineered companions for galactic voyagers. Possessing highly sophisticated
Necropolis Corridor adventure tourism
Travellers enter the Necropolis Corridor from Trade Lane Delta-Nine at a designated "Nav-Point Omega-Six," though entry is restricted to "Authorised Personnel Only".Travellers enter the Necropolis Corridor from Trade Lane Delta-Nine, a bustling artery of interstellar commerce, at a precisely designated "Nav-Point Omega-Six." This specific entry point is not arbitrary; it is a critical nexus carefully monitored and controlled by the governing authorities of the sector. Access to the Necropolis Corridor is strictly limited to authorised personnel only, a rule rigorously enforced by security. Given its sensitive and perilous nature, entry is exclusive to those with legitimate, sanctioned reasons. Surveillance at Nav-Point Omega-Six involves continuous automated scanning and is unseen. There are no holographic instructions present; instead, a forbidding atmosphere warns of the grim dangers within.
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4BJL
Journal log 001
It's been three months, Theo, Marilyn, and I have been searching for three months. Nothing has been successful yet. Theo says to hold out, but I'm beginning to not believe his remarks of the Egyptians. He seems like he knows too much about them, like he's making it up by now. It's quite alarming, and I don't want to be here any longer. I want to go home to Billy and Mary. Jesus they must be missing us right now. I'm sure my brother Ebenezer is doing fine taking care of them, even though he was never the kindest at heart. I'll write again tomorrow, Theo just walked into the tent with a knife, he's probably planning on hunting for food this morning.
3PJL
I sit here, in this lonely subway tunnel, the only place I can call home. Ever since that horrible uncle of mine kicked Mary and I out. I'm not sure why I never thought of subway tunnels as a safe place. It allows the mind to stop and think. My attention is diverted when I see a bright yellow light coming from far down the tunnel.
As I walk down the subway tunnel I notice something glowing on the wall. It’s hard to tell exactly what it was, it looked like a weird animal symbol or something, I think I might have seen something similar from history class at school. I think….it was hieroglyphics that Miss Larson said they were. Yeah, there’s the cat and the weird dog! But why are they doing in a tunnel here on subway?
Actually, where did everyone go? There were about fifty people with me in this tunnel and now it’s empty. This tunnel is never empty, the Fawcett city subway system is always jam packed even outside the usual travelling times to and from work. I see a subway car covered in the symbols, and step inside.
I see a shriveled old man in white robes floating over a stone block. He wields a golden staff, with a blue rock on the top. He notices me and greets me.
“Hello William, would you like to save the world?”
“Uh, is this a joke? You can't be for real.”
“This is all real, William.”
“Eh, what have I got to lose? Sounds pretty cool anyway.”
“Let me introduce myself, I am the wizard Shazam, and you'll be my champion, my Captain Marvel.”
“When can we start?”
Eight days later
It's been about a week after Shazam took me in as his champion, and I have to say it's been pretty awesome. I've learned so many things I didn't even know existed, it's like school but less boring. He's taught me about where my power comes from, the stone on his staff called the rock of eternity, and even some talking tiger he used to know. But today is the day, I finally get to go out and show the world what I can do. I Shazam tells me good luck, and I yell the word ‘Shazam!’. My body becomes engulfed in lightning, and I grow to adult size. I'm covered in a red and white suit, with a yellow lightning bolt on my chest. I fly out if the subway, and arrive in Fawcett City, Philadelphia. I begin to soar above the City, but then I realize I never practiced flying, losing my balance, and eventually plummeting to the pavement. I wake up to see a crowd around me, and I pick myself up, looking around at the unfamiliar faces. A news reporter shoves her microphone into my face.
“Sir, can you comment on who you are? Are you related to Superman?”
“Boy, I wish I was Superman. I'm uh, oh right that was it, I'm Captain Marvel!”
Elsewhere
I walk from my lab and into my office. The television is playing a recent story on the news, a Metahuman in Fawcett City, they call him Captain Marvel. How foolish he is, so clumsy and awkward. If I had his abilities, I would accomplish great things. I'd conquer worlds, nothing would stand in my way. For I am Thaddeus Bodog Sivana, and I conquer all.
END OF APP
This was my Shazam app for the DCSG. I apped because I used to have the EWSG role, but that story will conclude in the issues of EWSG Justice League. I'll be handing DCSG Jaime Reyes off to John to continue using in his Blue Beetle series. I'd like to give huge thanks to 911Bug911 and Supremedalekdunn for editing the app, and helping with the writing process.