Young Justice OC'S!!! Club
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posted by SilverWings13
November 27, 1927 11:30 pm
New Orleans, Louisiana
A French Quarter dance club

From the một giây story balcony, the view of the club was overwhelming. The crowd was a whirling mass. The flappers and their dates spun and slid and swung their bodies freely, many flirtatiously so as the medium of dancing allowed their souls to fly free.
"You don't like to dance?"
Alexie looked up and to his right where a potbellied, white haired man in an excellent suit and tie took a puff from his cigar. The young man straightened, taking a draw of his own cigarette before calling over the music, "I prefer the view from up here."
"You the one they call Roi de les Betes around here? King of Beasts?"
Alexi grinned at the ridiculous nickname. He held out a hand. "Yes, sir, Alexie Rome, at your service."
"I'm Mayor Arthur J. O'Keefe, of this city," the older man replied, shaking the younger's hand. "I heard bạn could help us with our.. pest problem?"
"That is the plan, sir. I'm glad bạn could be here tonight. The party's just about to begin."
As he đã đưa ý kiến it, the doors of the club opened. No one on the dance floor seemed to notice as the small group of five slithered through the outer reaches of the crowd. Leading them was a man in his early thirties. He was finally dressed in oxford bags (trousers) and sweater vest over a dress shirt, his curly hair cut short. Alexie eyed the individual, not even feeling the burn of the cigarette as he gripped it to smoldering ash in his fist.
"Who's that?" the mayor asked lowly, stepping closer to his newly found business partner.
"He goes bởi many names: Andrei, Mikhalych, Max, Smirnov. But his real name is Yakov Mikhailovich Sverdlov. He used to work for Stalin until he mysteriously died in 1919."
"Died? bạn mean that's... one of them?"
Alexie ignored the question. He had been glaring so hard that his person of interest felt it and looked up towards the balcony. Alexie's features shifted like a shadow into a welcoming smile. He waived a hand in invitation, and Yakov took the bait with a suspicious cock of his head.
Mayor O'Keefe's eyes widened. He looked like he might bolt, but suddenly Yakov was standing at the hàng đầu, đầu trang of the stairs.
"Privyet," Alexie greeted cooly.
"A Russian in the French Quarter? How is that?" The curly-haired man made no attempt to hide his thick accent.
"I could ask bạn the same. Please, Comrade, have a drink with me. Let us exchange stories. It has been a long time since I've talked of trang chủ with anyone."
Yakov cocked a bushy eyebrow in suspicion. In turn, Alexie held out an arm in the direction of the seating behind him. There were four young ladies and two teenage boys chattering on the semi-circle couch. The bàn in front of them was crowded bởi empty glasses, explained bởi the entourage's slurring words and sleepy giggles. Alexie saw something sinister, something hungry, flash in the other man's eyes at the sight of so many helpless younglings.
"Alright," the cautious arrival agreed, "I am called Yakov Sverdlov."
"A pleasure, Mr. Sverdlov. I'm Alexie. This is Mayor O'Keefe." He lead the two men over to the couch. The intoxicated youths hardly seemed to notice, only shifting slightly to make room for the men before going back to their drunken exchanges.
"So, what brings bạn to the French Quarter?" Alexie asked as he stood to capture the bottle of eau-de-vie* from its ice bucket. He emptied the clear, fruity liquid into three clean rượu martini, martini glasses and handed the mayor and their new acquaintance each a glass. Mayor O'Keefe discarded his suit jacket, sweat patches growing under his arms. He drank the cold alcohol with an earnest that spit in the face of Prohibition.
"The music," Yakov answered, "the art, the livelihood. How could one come to America without seeing the hometown of jazz music?"
"You have lived in America a while then?" Alexie asked as if he didn't know, lighting another cigarette.
"Da, a few years now. Initially, I came for the promised freedom. I am a politician. In Russia, I was forced to convert to Catholicism if I wanted a good life. Here, I can enjoy myself freely even as a practicing Jew. How about you, Alexie?"
The young man took his time to enjoy a long draw of his cigarette. "You've hardly touched your drink, Mr. Sverdlov. Perhaps bạn are interested in something.. warmer?" He waved towards the drunken younglings and the Jew's eyes widened.
"Oh, relax, no one here will spill your secret. Honestly, let us enjoy the livelihood."

Footnote:

eau-de-vie*: a French rượu mạnh, brandy of distilled trái cây traditionally drank at social events. Equivalent to German Schnapps. "L'eau de vie" literally translates to "water of life."
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posted by GlitterPuff
He sat in the cafe, looking at his watch. I wonder where she is? he thought to himself as he brushed a piece of his blonde hair out of his face. The chuông, bell on the door rang and his eyes flickered over to it, and he saw his date. Her dark blue dress fluttered as she walked over to him, her black blazer covering her chest; but hiển thị thêm of her cleavage than usual. The dark haired girl stood in her track when she came to the table, her sneakered feet put together. The blonde boy stood up and pulled the chair out for her, which she awkwardly sat in.

"You look nice Amora," the boy told her in a...
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posted by GlitterPuff
Name: Terpsichore Morison

Sex: Female

Age: 15

Appearance: Long màu hồng, hồng hair, blue eyes, fair skin, tall, skinny, wears đọc glasses when needed

Personality: Sweet as candy, very paranoid about people (cause she thinks they’ll kill her), a little spacey, and shy around new people

Civvies: A blue tank top, gray sweater, jeggings, sport sneakers, small backpack, and an assortment of bracelets and earrings

Weapons: A handheld gun (usually in bra hoặc her bag)

Skills: None

Powers: None

Past: Terpsichore lived in a very harsh crime filled neighborhood in New York City. Everywhere she turned, there were guns,...
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