Clark Kent straightens up from filling Shelby's food and water bowls in the Kent kitchen, blinks at the out-of-nowhere blinding light, and finds himself standing on a street corner, still holding the food scoop in one hand. He's still wearing the shield t-shirt underneath a blue plaid one, and his free hand automatically lifts to fiddle with a few ( Read more... )

Aniki is curled up in an armchair in The Coffee Shop, reading a book. Terrier, to be exact, though she seems to be reading the same section over and over again, running her fingers over the pages with a lonely look on her face.

Murphy is out drinking. It’s Holy Week. What else is a quasilapsed Irish Catholic Knight of the Cross to do ( Read more... )

In the alley behind the Empress Theatre, there's the loud crack of a pistol, easily mistaken for a car backfiring or something else entirely unnotable. There's no reason to be alarmed about it, either - if anyone happens to poke their head into the alley, they'll just see Harry, tucking his pistol away and moving forward to inspect a small leather ( Read more... )

[[Forward-dated to Sunday afternoon. Party post. Open to everyone, even if you don't know the happy couple- this is as much a celebration of two years of survival as it is a wedding.]]

In a large, nondenominational church in Chicago, people are gathered for a celebration- the wedding of Desmond Descant and Martha Jones. Everything is decked out to ( Read more... )

Karrin Murphy is at a coffee shop near the Empress Theater. She has a stack of books in front of her--a number of them on mythology, with titles like The Myth of the Male Divine and Mythical Trickster Figures. The rest are case studies on organized teenage violence and books about the mythos of the Christian biblical angel. Murphy rubs her eyes. ( Read more... )

A minute ago, Harry was walking down the street in Chicago.

And then he tripped - apparently over his own feet - and now he is still walking down the street in Chicago, but it's an entirely different part of Chicago than he was in a moment ago. Oh yeah, and there's snow everywhere. It does not take a genius or a wizard to work out that something ( Read more... )

[[OOC: Technically, Trickster Week ends with this post, so if you have something to say to the little bastard, say it now or forever hold your peace... Until he comes back. Whenever that will be. I know not everyone has gotten all the stuff they needed to do with this plot out of the way, so I fully support backdating and all that crap. I'm just ( Read more... )

Behind the Empress theater stands Murphy, still wingclad. There are three people on the ground in front of her, hands tied behind their backs.

It's a regular game of glare ping-pong.

She draws Fidelacchius slowly, letting the whisper of the blade hang in the silence of the alley ( Read more... )

On Monday morning, a limo pulls up in front of the Conrad and Adam Monroe, plus a few ranking Organization personnel and all their individual security details, arrive at the Conrad Hotel for a meeting. They head straight to the meeting room without lingering too long outside or in the lobby, and while Adam is choking down a deep-rooted urge to kill ( Read more... )

The Doctor is trying to slip into the Casa unnoticed, like nothing happened, like he didn't slip out early on Christmas morning to track down an old not-quite friend. Looking like nothing happened is a bit more difficult when he's having trouble easing the frustration from his face, the tension from his body... but maybe, if he's lucky, no one will ( Read more... )