ARFD is a DC Comics roleplaying forum that takes place just before the crossover event "Flashpoint" which was published in 2011. Anything leading up to this point is considered canonical on our forum and part of the narrative backdrop and context of the DCU and the characters therein. Anything that occurs after it (including the New-52 reboot and subsequent Rebirth reboot) are non-canonical and have no influence or presence on this forum.
Before registering an account on ARFD, we encourage you to read and familiarize yourselves with the following official threads, protocols and codes of conduct: LINKS HERE
Post by Bart Allen on Sept 10, 2018 1:08:52 GMT -5
Connor hadn't seen his father in a while - since the two had last parted ways, and it hadn't been on the best of terms. He'd stuck his neck out for Ollie time and time again but it had been the last straw. Star City had needed saving and all his father had been out for was his own revenge. Connor hadn't been able to - nor wanted to help him. But he also hadn't stopped him.
He didn't avoid Star City - it was his home after all. And he wasn't outright avoiding Ollie. They just had yet to cross paths again. Perhaps Ollie was avoiding him, he didn't particularly want to think about that.
Another carefully, precisely shot arrow struck it's target, knocking a gun out of an armed robber's hand. He focused on the battle. It was the one thing he could control - could predict. Perhaps he should have left a single gunman to the police, but he wasn't one to think this sort of fight was beneath him. Anyway he could help keep Star City safe was never beneath him.
The gunman ran at him with a knife and Connor quickly dodged before barely a second later sending an uppercut directly at the gunman's jaw. It collided and just as the gunman staggered back, he swung his leg out, colliding it with the man's side.
The gunman cursed by Connor was still right on him. He grabbed his wrist and twisted it the wrong way, hard - all the while managing to keep a grasp on his own bow. The gunman cried out and dropped his knife. Connor let his wrist go and sent his elbow right into the gunman's face. That did it as the gunman crumpled to the ground, holding his nose that Connor was certain was broken and moaning in pain.
He heard the sound of sirens and looked down the street to see police cruisers racing toward where he stood. He also saw he was surrounded by people with awe on their faces and their cellphones out - either recording or live-streaming, he wasn't ever sure nowadays.
He leaned back against a lamppost - the light was on as the sun was just starting to set - as police officers rushed by and handcuffed the gunman, confiscating his gun and knife. One officer watched him carefully while another gave him a smile and a thankful nod.
He returned the nod before walking over and retrieving his arrows. He politely declined requests to take a seflie from some of the onlookers, mentally sighing because he thought they should have realized he had a city to protect not selfies to take. He walked over to his bike that he had parked on the corner, putting his helmet on. He sped off to see what more trouble he could find.
No he wasn't really avoiding anyone. He just hoped he wasn't the one being avoided.
Post by Bart Allen on Sept 10, 2018 15:49:25 GMT -5
What... What happened? The last thing he remembered, he'd been a kid again, trapped once more in the Phantom Zone, traveling and keeping close to Mon-El. He'd been struggling to remember Thara, the Nightwing Entity, a good chunk of his life. The Phantom Zone did that - it made his memory fuzzy. Even now, he was certain there were pieces missing.
But the dirt under his hands definitely didn't belong to the Phantom Zone - and his hands weren't that of a kid's. He was twenty-three again or roughly that age. And... Was this Earth?
He recognized the sound of birds - it was humid, wet. He thought he might have been in a rain forest. When he looked down at himself, he saw he was in his Nightwing costume but he knew the Nightwing entity was gone. It had left him after helping him trap himself and Zod in the Phantom Zone...
He practically jumped to his feet, eyes darting around but he found no signs of life aside from him and obviously animals and plants. He also saw no signs of a portal to the Phantom Zone. He could feel the sunshine dotting through the canopy of trees. He shot up, flying above the treeline. He closed his eyes, feeling the sun on his face, the wind blowing his hair.
For a split second he only thought of finding Thara and reuniting with her, letting her know he was home. But that lapse in memory didn't last long. Reality hit him and his eyes watered. Thara was gone. She hadn't been trapped in the Phantom Zone with him. She had sacrificed herself. She'd died a hero... But she had still died.
He felt the strong urge to go home - a childish urge to curl up in bed and hug a Superman action figure he'd had as a kid. Perhaps that urge came because moments ago, he'd been a kid again in the Phantom Zone. Still... He wanted to go home.
But where was home?
Chris felt a pang of fear as he realized he didn't quite remember. He knew it wasn't the Phantom Zone - that place had never been home. All that place had done was mess with his mind, his memories. Now it seemed to have stolen his memory of home.
But he remembered a city - a metropolis... No, it's name was Metropolis. He couldn't remember if that was home and his head hurt when he tried to think harder on it. But he remembered enough to know how to get there. So that was where he headed, flying at his top speed.
An asteroid heading toward Earth was probably more up Superman's alley which was, of course, why Kyle was currently trying to stop it with a Superman-shaped construct. The size of the asteroid told him that even when it broke up in Earth's atmosphere, it wouldn't break up enough to no longer be considered a safety risk. Thus he either needed to break it up even more himself, before it hit the atmosphere or redirect it.
Currently he was trying to redirect it - or rather construct!Superman was but he controlled him so it definitely counted as him doing all the work. Unfortunately the asteroid was close enough to get caught in the planet's gravitational pull.
Kyle quietly cursed to himself and focused on pouring more juice into his construct. The construct pushed harder, grew bigger than the asteroid. He poured enough energy into it to make it large enough to just grab the asteroid and toss it. He had it toss the asteroid like a football. Kyle grinned, proud, then grimaced as he noticed the asteroid smack into a satellite before it kept flying back into space where it had come from.
He really hoped that had been a LexCorp satellite and not a Wayne one. Those were expensive and he'd much rather wreck one of Lex Luthor's than owe Bruce Wayne money.
Kyle lifted his concentration on the Superman construct and watched as it dissipated, the green energy returning to his ring. A part of him hoped he hadn't stepped on the Man of Steel's toes but the rest of him knew Clark was too nice to mind. Besides protecting Earth from galactic dangers was also part of his job.
He placed his hands on his hips and just floated there in space for a moment, his ring's energy helping him not to be pulled back to Earth by the planet's gravity. He waited a moment until he was sure that the asteroid wasn't coming back - he didn't think it was a sentient asteroid but one could never be too sure in his line of work. Besides he wouldn't have been surprised if someone he'd pissed off was behind it all and threw it back just to annoy him.
He wasn't paranoid - that was more of a Bat thing than a Lantern thing - but he also was rarely surprised nowadays. He cringed, thinking that, suddenly feeling much older than he actually was. He decided he needed to do something fun - something young. Old people were Hal, John, and Guy - not that he would say that to John's face because John was too nice. Hal and Guy? He'd say it to their face with a smirk on his own.
He turned around and re-entered the planet's atmosphere, a green glow coming to cover his body as he willed his ring to protect him so he wouldn't ignite into flames. He thought of Connor, Wally, Donna, Jason - when had he last hung out with any of them? Not counting whenever they had to dawn their masks and save the world. He thought it had been far too long. He made a mental note to send them all texts when he got home. A movie night sounded fun and right now he couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather spend it with.
Post by Chris Kent on Feb 11, 2019 17:55:06 GMT -5
He was having a great time messing with Kid Flash. Was it as fun as messing with the Flash? Not really but Kid Flash was almost more annoying. There was a bomb hidden somewhere in Central City as well as several decoy bombs filled with exploding glitter.
He had a feeling the speedster would annoyingly find the bomb easily but this allowed Kid Flash to be distracted while the other Rogues were off causing mayhem because a bomb most certainly was the top priority. That and he wanted to see Kid Flash coughing up glitter.
Kid Flash, for once, didn't look amused, covered from head to toe in red and yellow glitter.
"Wow oh wow, you're so shiny, Kid!" Axel quipped from on top of a couch in an abandoned warehouse. His legs were crossed, eyes wide behind his mask. "Tell me - is that from the Speed Force or are you celebrating Pride early?"
The huff he heard from Kid Flash told him he was rolling his eyes.
"It's from my sparkling personality, duh," the speedster threw back.
Axel laughed. "How many did you find?"
He made an exaggerated O with his mouth, holding his hand up to cover it in fake shock. "I seem to remember planting thirty-two."
Kid Flash's usual smile wavered. He was getting annoyed. That made Axel grin wickedly.
He held his hands out and shrugged. He knew the speedster couldn't take that risk.
"You're a horrible adult," Kid Flash complained.
Axel laughed again. "You're the one who came back from the dead as a teenager." He made a shooing motion with his hand. "Now off you go or should we waste more time yapping?" He grinned at the frown he got and watched the speedster, well, speed off.
Of course he had been bluffing. He'd only placed twenty-one fake bombs and one real one. But Kid Flash wasn't a telepath and he was using that to his advantage. He stretched his arms out and slid down onto the couch. The Rogues would be proud of him, he was sure of it. But now he just needed to make a hasty exit before-
He frowned and looked at the cuffs suddenly linking his wrists. What?! His gaze rose, finding a smirking Kid Flash with his hands on his hips. Oh how he wanted to slap that smirk off.
"You're a turd, Axel," Kid Flash teased, having clearly figured out his bluff.
Axel huffed. "Not cool, Kid Flash, not cool."
"Aren't you supposed to be a mature adult now?"
He was most certainly a mature adult! And like any mature adult, he raised his middle finger, stuck his tongue off, and whined, "Shut up."
Post by Connor Hawke on May 10, 2019 21:09:11 GMT -5
It was times like this that he wondered how he could ever miss Gotham. He knew the answer, of course. Gotham was home. It had always been home even if it hadn't always felt like home. It was his home and his city.
Bruce was off, trotting around the globe, building Batman Incorporated, as far as Tim was aware. Dick and Damian still had their whole Batman and Robin dynamic duo. Stephanie was still Batgirl. Barbara was running the Birds of Prey. Jason was doing whatever it was that Jason did - scaring gang leaders and shooting people, probably.
Gotham wasn't without its heroes, both good and neutral alike. And he'd cemented himself as one of those heroes. He'd saved more lives than he could count when he stopped the Unternet - at the cost of the Madmen's humanity and yes, he still felt guilty about that.
But now wasn't the time for guilt. Now was the time for fighting, for strategies. Now was the time to focus on the fact that Killer Croc was currently trying to eat him. There'd been a breakout at Arkham - when wasn't there a breakout at Arkham? He'd responded to it first, dropping into the prison yard only to find several guards dead or seriously injured.
He fought his fair share of inmates, making his way into the prison in order to stop some of the bigger bads that the asylum housed from getting to the room that housed their confiscated weapons. Halfway to that very room, he'd found Killer Croc or Croc had found him, one of the two, he didn't think the details on who had found whom first mattered.
Now he was on his back, his bō staff the only thing keeping Croc's jaws from sinking his teeth into him. Unfortunately it didn't keep spit or bad breath off his face. Tim internally sighed. That wasn't going to come out of his mask easy. Great.
He wasn't sure if anyone else had showed up to help - preferably help him and not the escaping prisoners. There were already more than enough inmates running around, fighting guards. He didn't need anyone else helping them - they had most likely already received aid from a corrupt guard.
Croc pulled his mouth away from the bō staff. Before he could be relieved that he was no longer on the dinner menu, his mind popped a single, dreadful question into his head.
The answer came when Croc suddenly grabbed his bō staff with both hands, his grip strong, and yanked it up. Tim lightly gasped, eyes widening briefly, at the sudden jerk of being pulled up. He managed to keep his own grasp on the bō staff but now he was dangling from it, feet off the ground. Not that this was anything new. He was still closer to the ground than he'd been whenever this had happened as Robin.
That and he was a trained acrobat, of course. He used the bar to swing, slamming his foot right up under Croc's jaw. He then used his other foot to kick the inmate in the throat. Croc coughed and cursed, dropping the staff and, in turn, dropping the vigilante.
"You're gonna pay for that!!" Killer Croc snarled.
Tim was quick to land on his feet and scoop his bō staff right back up. He twirled it in one hand then shifted into a fighting stance.
"Not likely," he replied, stating it like it was a fact. Croc growled and charged him.
Post by Tim Drake-Wayne on May 13, 2019 2:11:50 GMT -5
This was all still new to him. Jackson - no, Kaldur'ahm - still had a lot to learn. Starting with his name. His adopted parents still called him Jackson. He suspected they always would. But that wasn't his real name, despite as real, as right as it felt. He wanted to try to get used to it. It was the name given to him by, he assumed, his biological mother.
He didn't know that for sure, of course. A part of him was afraid to ask Mera for confirmation, afraid that he would be wrong. He needed something, anything to attach him to his biological mother, to feel like she was still with him even though he had no memory of her. He wasn't sure if she'd even survived long enough to hold him after he'd been born. He wasn't even sure if she'd given birth to him or if he'd had to be cut out--
He stopped at the edge of the reef, abruptly, hands tightening into fists. No, he didn't want to think about that. That wasn't going to help him. Besides, the people of Xebel were still trapped in Xebel. They couldn't hurt him now. And even if they returned and tried to, he now had another family perfectly capable of protecting him and helping him.
That family was compromised of Arthur Curry, Mera, and Lorena Marquez as well as any of their allies. He'd heard about another one, Garth he believed his name was. He hadn't met him yet. He had met some of the Teen Titans but only briefly. He was technically part of their ranks now thanks to Arthur but he still required a lot of training. Sometimes he sparred with the other Titans, but most of his training had to be with fellow Atlanteans.
Jackson - no, Kaldur - sat down on the edge of the reef, eyes following a fish as it swam by. He'd decided that he was perfectly fine with his adopted parents calling him Jackson. It felt right. It felt normal. It felt like it helped link him to his life before, to the time when he'd thought they were his real parents... They still felt like his real parents.
Except now it felt like he had three families. His adopted parents were one. Arthur, Mera, and Lorena were another - he'd asked them to try to call him by Kaldur'ahm or Kaldur in order to try to get used to the name. And despite the fact that his biological father, David Hyde, had made it clear he meant nothing to him, it still felt as if he counted as a third family.
Kaldur groaned, not bothering to try to keep his frustrations to himself. He was off the coast of San Francisco, by himself, after doing some training with the Teen Titans. The team had called in one of their reserve members and the moment he'd seen it was Red Robin, one of Gotham's infamous Bats, he knew he was going to get his butt whooped. And get his butt whooped was indeed what had happened.
It had been embarrassing but he'd only noticed Kid Flash laughing. Of course that didn't mean no one else laughed but he tried to convince himself that it did. His inexperience alone would have been enough to keep him from winning against any of his new teammates, but it was also painfully obvious that he was almost always distracted - a fact he had no doubt was being reported back to Arthur and Mera.
He'd barely had time to process all the revelations and changes in his life when they had first started happening. But then he'd had time to process it all, to let it sink in. It was too much, too fast. A part of him wanted to go back to being a normal teenager in New Mexico. Another part of him didn't want to disappoint Arthur. A third part knew that he had never truly been society's idea of "normal," even ignoring his powers.
There was a lot now he still felt like he didn't know about himself but one thing he realized he'd always known, and it wasn't his powers. He'd tried to deny it, telling himself he had a girlfriend even though she had never really cared about him, they had never really been romantic together. No, he had never been what others would deem as "normal."
So perhaps this part of his life now, being Aqualad, being the son of a murderous supervillain, trying to figure out who he truly was, was all part of a new normal he was inventing.
Note: Reading Kaldur's arc in Brightest Day (pre-Nu52, I know), knowing the Nu52 had him come out as gay, a lot of his moments reminded me of, well, me when I was closeted and like somehow that ended up affecting this sample. I admittedly feel like this sample is more rambly than I'm used to writing but I hope y'all still enjoy it. <3
Post by Axel Walker on May 13, 2019 17:42:36 GMT -5
All he'd ever wanted to do, after receiving his powers, was be a hero. He wanted to help people. He'd thought he could do that as Kahndaq's prince. He'd thought he could do that with his family. He'd thought he could do that with the Teen Titans.
Now he had no one. He'd been abandoned by the Titans the second he accidentally killed the Persuader. They hadn't understood. They should have but they hadn't. He'd needed them to understand but instead they had abandoned him, painting him as a villain he didn't want to be. He no longer had any friends. His best friend had killed him - he still wasn't over that; he didn't think he'd ever be over that.
And after all he'd done to bring Adrianna back, he felt he no longer had her or a country anymore. She'd cast him out, banishing him. All he'd wanted was to keep her and the people of Kahndaq safe. All he did was what he'd thought Black Adam would have wanted. Did he like doing any of it? No, he most certainly did not. But it was necessary. Death had become necessary. Brutality had become necessary. He still wanted to do good but sometimes good required pain and he was tired of it being his pain. He was tired of feeling used and then abandoned.
Gods, he just wanted to go home. He'd been staying mostly in Egypt, moving from city to city. He walked the streets, still glad he could walk since being returned to the land of the living, with a hood up to cast shadows on his face. He needed to figure out a way to bring Adam back. He didn't trust Dr. Sivana to get the work done, to not stab him in the back.
There had to be some way - there just had to be. If he brought Adam back, he was certain everything would be better. Adrianna would welcome them both with open arms. Adam could help her understand why he'd done what he'd done. Then they could continue where they'd left off, before Sobek had killed him. They had been planning on figuring out a way to clean up the mess left after he'd killed the Persuader. He just wanted to go back to that time, to before he'd let Sobek convince him to return to his mortal form.
He wanted to go back to that time, when he was a little less broken, a lot less lost - back to that time, when he'd still thought he could be a hero.
There was a cry, someone was stealing from a tourist. The thief ran, barreling right into Amon, who was knocked down, the hood falling back, hidden no more. The thief didn't even stop running. Amon frowned, the part of him that had once been so desperate to be a hero sparking within him, and spoke two simple yet powerful words.
A RECIPE FOR DISASTER is a literate role-playing forum based on the DC Comics Universe. All character, organizations, locations, entities and so forth are credited to DC and associations. All official methods, protocol, etc. are credited to the staff of ARFD. This includes (but is not limited to) templates, rules, premise, etc. All individualized aspects of the forum, such as in-character posts, plots, etc. are credited to the members of ARFD. Thievery will not be tolerated.
The skin was created by Timelapse of Wicked Wonderland. The banner image was made by Star of ARFD.