In the tradition of starting a story in the talk thread – JLR: Some Assembly Required!
Without much warning, a pinpoint of light materialises in the middle of the JLR Talk Thread.
With a silent whoosh, the pinpoint rapidly expands into a vast elliptical shape of blinding light. Other-worldly energies coalesce and cascade from the shape – which would have made a rather pretty visual effect, except that anyone watching would have had their retinas burnt out by the blinding light.
A dark shape falls from the light, and rather heavily, to the floor.
THUD!
As quickly as it appeared the light contracts back in on itself and disappears, leaving the room in darkness and silence once more.
For a long time nothing happens.
Then the shape stirs. “Ow. My pancreas.”
A short time later, a hand shakily attempts to reach the top of the sofa to help pull the rest of it's body up, but notices that the top of the sofa is already on the floor with it.
“I'm terribly sorry. I hope I didn't cause too much incon...” A pause. “Wait a moment, I recognise that floral pattern! There's only one sofa in the multiverse with that pattern. The one La Machine bought for the...” With renewed vigour, the figure excitedly jumps to it's feet. “... Lounge Room of Justice!”
The figure had seen better days. It sort of looked like a man. His hair matted and and unwashed. A full beard obscured the grime on his face. What once would have been a rather fine cape was now no more than rags. The shirt was not much better. A battered waistcoat hung open upon his shoulders, the buttons long-gone. Tattered trousers revealed the wearer's knobbly knees and hairy legs. There was no trace of jacket or shoes, though a single sock finished off the ensemble (on the left foot, if you really need to know), and then the big toe was sticking out of a hole.
As the figure looked around, he began to feel that he was fitting into his surroundings rather well – everything was covered with dust, cobwebs and decay.
The figure went to move, tripped over the upturned sofa, picked himself up and yelled in pain as he promptly banged his shin on the Coffee Table of Justice, or what was once the Coffee Table of Justice. It lay broken, cleaved in two, an upturned bowl of Cheesels lay scattered on the rug. A brief inspection revealed that the Cheesels were stale.
He looked over to the monitor (ie, TV), the source of all the JLR's information on the happenings of the world. However it would prove no help. Burnt-out wiring hung limply from the broken screen, the surrounding wall and furnishings were charred. Looking down, the figure noticed electronic components scattered on the floor, some must be from the monitor, but he was sure he recognised the remains of the X-Box.
“Blimey. What happened here? Did Chant finally win? Or something far worse...?” After a moments consideration. “Perhaps its just the afternoon after an all-night bender?”
Squinting in the oppressive gloom, the figure starts to move off and smacks into a wall. “Darnnation!” He notices a light switch and tries it. “Dead.”
Carefully he moves over to the Phone of Justice and picks it up. The device promptly breaks apart in his hand. “Even deader.”
Gingerly he makes his way to the Kitchen of Justice and opens the fridge, peering into the dark interior of the warm appliance. “Hmmm. Someone's growing some interesting science experiments in here,” He shuts the door.
He tries a cupboard and smiles when he sees what's inside. “Ah, the only food-stuff to survive the apocalypse.” He considers the Twinky bar, “Normally I wouldn't, but it's an emergency,” and unwraps the rather unhealthy and preservative-loaded golden mock-cream cake and pops it in his mouth. After a few chews and a swallow, he grimaces.
He makes his way next to the Danger Room, knocks twice, and opens the door. He promptly closes it, coughing and spluttering. “Jeez, they could have flushed before they left!”
He attempts the stairs, but his foot goes right through the first step. “Perhaps not.”
Getting concerned, he calls out. “Wednesday (or whatever you're calling yourself this week)? Ace? Hybrid? Centurian? CJ?” He pauses. “Oh yeah, no Ceej.” He calls out again. “Is anybody home? I know it;s been a while. It's me, Britannica! You know, Superhero Librarian! Australian! Anyone?”
Britannica waits, but no one answers. The Superhero Librarian slaps his forehead. “JUSTICE LEAGUE REALITY ASSEMBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
The only reaction is that some dust and plaster falls from the ceiling onto his head.
Dejectedly, Britannica enters the broom cupboard, but it stubbornly remains a broom cupboard, so he tries the front door. Surprisingly it works.
Dazzled by the light outside, he allows for his vision to adjust.
Then... “Gasp!”
To be continued...?
Anyone?
