DISCLAIMER: All of these characters belong to DC Comics, I merely spun them in a new twist.
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"I am The Spectre, ever present, all knowing. I am the instrument of Divine Vengeance for the one humanity knows as God, Yahweh, Allah or other names mortals call the Presence. But I am also an observer, a…Watcher if you will. And know this, there are other worlds, other… possibilities that exist, infinite options and things that could have been. Or perhaps what will be. And for every possibility, there is… a reversal…"
A man in his 30's, bald headed and clad in an expensive-looking business suit is situated at a large conference table, focused on the data the laptop in front of him pulled up. Sighing in frustration as the crime statistics insisted stubbornly on keeping it's usual rate, he pushed away from the desk and walked over to the large panoramic window his office was outfitted with, looking out over the city. His city. The shining urban sprawl known as Metropolis. It hadn't been that long since he returned from his global business travels and had seen how much his home needed a savior, a hero. The crime rate was intolerably high, and with the well-equipped criminal organisation known as Checkmate running rampant in the streets there was no way for the police to deal with it all…
So he had sworn an oath. He had sworn to use his great mind and vast resources, use the fortune and business empire his parents had left him, to clean up the city, use his intellect and cunning strategical mind to bring criminals to justice. To make the city safe again. But there was only so much he could do; after all, he was no superman.
"But this I swear… I am Alexei L. Luthor … and I will not fail my mission... But I'll need help."
"This world needs something… it needs a force for good, a unified force… a league"
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Far above the blue planet known as Earth, a small speck in the infinite vastness of the universe, a lone figure, radiated by a golden aura, looked down upon the world he had adopted as his home. The figure was a man, with sharp, jagged features, purple skin and pointy ears, an embodiment of everything alien. And yet, the world he now protected had accepted him as one of their own. Well, most of them. Humanity still feared what they did not understand, feared the other beings they shared the universe with. But even bigger than their capability for hate and fear was their innate capability of good and nobility.
That's why he had come here. The uniform he wore, a gold and yellow uniform, with a strange stylistic symbol of a star on his chest, as well as adorning the golden ring he wore, revealed his true identity to the world. On his home planet, a world known as Korugar, he had been known as Sinestro. But here, and now, he was known as Shining Star. One of thousands of members of the Shining Star Corps, a universe-spanning organisation committed to fighting injustice and evil wherever it could be found. He had been assigned this sector of space, after the death of his predecessor at the hands of the infamous Green Serpent, a monster whose very existence was the antithesis of what the Shining Stars stood for.
The Weaponers of Oa had chosen him to posses the ring of his predecessor, to hold it's ideals of order and justice clear for all to see. In their name he had become Sinestro of the Shining Stars, fought countless battles against those who would do harm to the people of his adopted home world, to bright light in the darkness of evil.
And now, he would protect this fragile-looking planet with his heart and soul. For so was the decree of the Shining Stars…
"Freedom is a Sacred Right
For all Living Things I will Fight
Let My Light Lead Through Darkest Night
For The Shining Stars Are Burning Bright"
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It had been called the darkest city in America. As a comedian had once put it, if Metropolis was New York by day, then Gotham City was New York at night. The city was rotting with corruption, a disease spreading through every vein of the dying body. The police were either paid off or helpless to stop the growing rot. The crime families, like the Gordon's and the Montoya's, had a stranglehold on city hall, and in the dark, dank streets the common criminals tore the innocents apart, rapists and murderers and sadists, oh my…
And then he came…
Nobody knew exactly where he had come from. Some say he crawled out of the shadows one night, that ghoulish smile on his face, his demonic face twisted into a horrible parody of a grin, as the screams of the terrified criminals was mixed with otherworldly laughter, before the creature vanished into the night.
The papers called him Spring-Heeled Jack, after the Victorian urban legend. Witnesses described him as a demonic mirage, a horned head and large, glittering eyes, though some say it might have been goggles, draped in a dark cape, taking one large bound over high gates and walls and even buildings! Most paradoxically though, some witnesses mention the creature wearing a smiley face button upon its chest.
What they all agree on though, is that whoever, whatever, it is, it's not human. How else would you explain the eerie mad laughter that follows it, or the inhuman leaps it can take? Whatever the case, crime has been dropping ever since the urban myth had begun.
Strangely, some say that he his most often seen prowling around the ruins of Jacks Komedy Klub, abandoned since the murder of Jake and Harley Napier 15 years ago…
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He was a murderer…
The Midwestern city known as Central City, a somewhat unimaginative name perhaps, was fairly unremarkable. It was fairly large but didn't posses many landmarks or anything that made it stand out, except the Ice Lounge, a museum commemorating the city's famed protector, the hero known as Joe Chill.
And he hated it…
Joe Chill had been much like his hometown once, an unremarkable man, doomed to obscurity, until one fateful night. Desperate for money, completely out of options, he had tried to rob a young family outside a movie theatre one dark knight, what seemed a life time ago. He had only wanted their money, but the man had tried to take the gun from him, and in the struggle, it went off…
When the smoke cleared, two people were dead and their son was left alone, crying next to the bodies of his parents. He had bolted from the scene afterwards, fleeing in terror from the irredeemable sin he had committed. Not looking where he ran, he had never seen the truck carrying chemicals coming…
The doctors told him the accident had altered his genes, giving his skin a constant blue and frosty appearance as well as giving him marvellous strength and the power of ice manipulation, to bend the powers of cold and ice to his own whim. However, he had lost his sense of touch, his skin and flesh as cold as his soul now, a befitting punishment for one such as him. He could never make up for what he had done, but he could try and help others from the same fate. That day he abandoned his old name and became Joe Chill.
Garbed in arctic clothing and dark goggles to protect his former identity, desperate to hide who he had once been, the freezing cold like an aura around him on even the warmest of days,, droplets of sweat freezing and dropping to the ground before they left his skin, his breath like a fog to match his icy heart, he swore to protect Central City from others like him. He didn't want their praise, didn't want their admiration. The museum felt like a mockery, an honour he couldn't possibly deserve.
It was not enough, never enough…
Whenever he closed his eyes he would still see a child crying next to the bodies of his parents…
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He had just been another orphan on the streets of Santa Prisca, a Caribean island that had once been part of the Spanish empire, now it was nothing more than another godforsaken den of drug lords and civil war. He did not remember his parents, or even his old name, just the daily struggle for survival in a place that didn't even know you existed. He had seen what the drug lords did to the poor, the hopeless, the lost, and he swore that he would one day strike back at them.
And then the day came. He hadn't been more than 15 when the guerrilla army had come to him looking for volunteers. He was a big man, even in his mid teens, perfect for what the army needed him for. A kidnapped government scientist had created a special formula to enhance a mans anatomy to superhuman levels, essentially a super-steroid, but the process was extremely painful, so far not a single subject had survived.
He did…
He couldn't belive his new power, his body surging with energy and strength, he could easily lift a car over his head, his skin strong enough to repel bullets and even explosives. With this new power, he knew he could free his homeland from the tyranny of the drug trade and corrupt government. He chose a costume for himself, a black mask with a stylised skull on it, minimal but effective. And he needed a name. A fitting name.
He was the bane of his enemies, after all… Bane…
His country was in turmoil, but he would help mend the wounds of his homeland. For now, at long last, he had the power to fight back!
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He had tried to warn them. But none of them would listen. And now he was all that remained of the world known as Krypton…
He was an artificial intelligence created by the Science Council of Krypton, a digital intelligence dedicated to the preservation of both knowledge and life. He had faithfully served his world for centuries, recording it's customs, it's achievements, it's people. His people.
The end came swiftly. Just days earlier he had detected the tremors of the dying planet, and soon the truth was painfully clear, Krypton was doomed. He had done all he could to convince his people to abandon the planet, but no one, not a single one belived him. He had to leave alone.
If he could weep, he would have that day.
But life moved on, as he travelled the universe, recording the other life forms of the cosmos, their knowledge and lives, and in his digital heart he knew that Krypton would not be gone as long as it's legacy existed. It was also now that he chose a name for himself. Brainiac… He would call himself Brainiac.
Then, one day, just a few years ago, he had come to the planet known as Earth, a planet he would finally call home, a home after years of wandering the stars. A world full of unique and remarkable individuals, each striving to make their world a better place for everyone.
Heroes… They were heroes.
He made a new identity for himself there, as a teacher, helping to form young minds, like his own people had once created him to do. However, he would also help the people of Earth in other ways, fighting the enemies of justice and life, both in honor of his creators and his new people. For he was Brainiac, the protector of life and last survivor of Krypton…
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"Yes, I am The Spectre. I know all that was, what is, and what will be. And for each choice that is made, there is another made somewhere else…"
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This was an idea based on an art piece I did a few months ago, a "reversed" Justice League with heroic versions of DC villains as members, although that version included a heroic Lobo as well, though I excluded him here to bring the members down to seven. I might do a few one-shots of these characters in the future…
