Conner: Ordinarily I should be in class right now. Should be, but that doesn’t mean I am. Being a Luthor, son of the President, comes with a lot of leeway about attendance. Which St. Joseph’s School for Boys is not normally keen on, but they made an exception. The Luthor family has a very long history there. My father, his father before him, so on and so forth. On a good day I attend most of the classes, except for driver’s ed. Most days, I show up in the morning for first period, maybe second, but then spend the rest of the day ‘at work.’ Infrequently there’s also opportunities to cut classes and work, to talk Cassie in to being a bit of a delinquent with me.
Today is not an ordinary day, because yesterday was an extraordinary one. Extraordinarily bad one. There had been no trip to St. Joseph’s. Nor a call in to ‘Work.’ Helena Sandsmark had called multiple times, but once I’d made certain she was in no danger, they went unanswered. Instead of those things, for the first time in recent history? Metropolis had it’s Superman. With all the bells and whistles there in. Armed Robbery on 7th Avenue? A blue-red blur had left the robbers hanging from a light pole. Hostage situation on a Subway car? Ended with only minimal damage, since I had to pull one of the doors off the car to gain entry. Cat in a tree? Not a problem. For me. The Cat will probably have a nervous tick the rest of it’s life from the twelve thousand mile an hour rescue it received.
The Daily Planet is probably going to put today down as a ‘Pretty Good Day’ for Metropolis. Or they will, as soon as I’m finished with… what’s this guy’s name again?
:: …. Metallo! Really, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m Metallo! And you, Superman, pshaw. Are a threat to our…::
“…hey, don’t mean to interrupt your monologue, but is that a suit of armor?”
::.. uh, yes? It’s titanium enhanced, laced with krytonite your mortal weakness Alien!..::
“So. You’re like completely protected by that suit of armor right?”
::…absolutely! You’ve never faced an opponent like me. I’ve downed the real Superm–…::
POW!
That last bit is more in my mind, than reality. I like to imagine my fist hitting the bad guys with sound effects. Because it’s much more fun than the sound real Titanium and Krytonite alloy make when they’re hit with enough force to level a small building. The force of the strike blew out the windows in every car for a City Block. I hope these people have insurance. Well. Except that guy with the Geo Metro. Olsen something. What a dumb ass. Oh, look. Adoring fans. People with questions. I don’t know who this Perry White guy is, but I’m having a hard time stomaching his thank-yous with all that cigar scent rolling off of him.
“No, no. No time interviews. Gotta go wrap up…uh…”
Metallo?
“…oh, right. Thanks Olsen. …wrap up Metallo.”
What the hell kind of name is Metallo, anyway? I mean. Ugh. And that suit of armor he wore. Emerald Armor? What sort of tool-bag wears a green costume. Jesus, these guys are going to need to get a fashion coordinator or something. How am I even supposed to take a man serious, ranting and raving about Alien threats in a little green suit. I’ll have a talk with him while I’m pulling him out of the side of the building he flew through.
Cassie: Superman isn’t the only one that’s ditching class. Some of us just need excuses to get away with it, rather than a sort of general acceptance of poor behavior because it’s just not worth the hassle of dealing with it. My family aren’t heirs to some sort of plastic empire, or from long lines of politicians with deep pockets that they’ve used to line the alumni’s. Nope. I’m a scholarship kid, and what leeway I get mostly only comes from the fact that I’m so far ahead in my classwork, and most of the teachers at least recognize that I probably shouldn’tactually be there. Except my History teacher. He’s the only one that makes me feel bad for ditching, and that’s not even intentional. I’ve just started to actually enjoy, and be engaged by, that hour of my day.
Still. I’ve got a long line of excuses I can fall back on. Cheerleader business. Tutoring responsibilities. Off-site project work with Mom. Conner Luthor pulled up in his red sports car, and please for the love of God just go with him so he stops distracting the student body. Not even a tiny bit of oh, you’re a literal goddess please! Do whatever you want! Grumblegrumble… where is that coming from? I’m progressively more irritated with slights that aren’t even slights lately, because they don’t know. Almost no one does and that’s by design. And apparently the feeling is being returned by basically everyone right now. Mom’s irritated. Conner sure seemed irritated. At least Freddy and Tim aren’t mad at me. Still. As personally affronted as I’d like to feel right now by the world, by my Father, by…everything… after finally checking my phone on the way out of Fawcett, after I’d eaten an impressive amount of food in the diner (which was, in fact, the best I’d ever had), I can’t help feeling like maybe I deserve at least a little of it.
Is it really my fault that Conner is so horrible at explaining anything without coming off like. Well. Him? I don’t think it is. Part of me’s ranting that I shouldn’t feel bad, but the bulk majority of me and my conscience still has managed to stuff that little angry thought bubble down in my brain once again. I’d had my moment of angry rebellion when I’d stayed in Fawcett for the night, making the trip back this morning only took half an hour and that’s because I was going slow. Slow for me anyway. With the supersuit back on, I could just enjoy the flying. And the solitude, though admittedly I didn’t enjoy that part all that much. Too much time to think, and my dreams had made for a not very restful couple hours of sleep.
I’m actually shocked to realize Conner’s out and about working. Not NOWHERE style work, as far as I can tell, just out being… Superman. I almost go to help, except I know he doesn’t need it, and it’s almost comical the speed with which he handles the man in the tacky, terrible little suit. I guess that makes me appreciate that mine’s not awful. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t design it myself. I probably would have just gone with jeans and a teeshirt.. I don’t come around the building until Metallo has made his crater in the face of the building opposite their original conversation, dropping out of the silhouette of the still climbing sun.
“Where do they even get those suits? I mean, there’s gaudy and then there’s…”
Standing her, well, hovering here snarking about awful green fashion choices isn’t a me kind of thing to do. That sounds more like I’m channeling my inner M’gan and that’s not what I was actually going for. I suppose it’s not terribly Wonder Woman-ish to be ten feet off the ground, twisting her fingers in knots behind her back and fidgeting because she just doesn’t know what to do with herself right now. That’s because you’re not really Wonder Woman. You’re Cassie Sandsmark, cheerleader and mean girlfriend.
“Can I…help?”
Conner: Where do they get these suits? Good question. In this case the answer is an easy one, though for the moment not a terribly important one. Metallo is a product of the world we live in. A response to the Alien threat that eventually drove the original Superman away. He was one of the originals, that sparked up in response to the Meta-Human rising popularity, then eventual decline. Much like Batman has always kept metas out of Gotham, because the world likes to respond to such things with an equal level of crazy? The original Superman caused people like this, to put their ingenuity to work in ways that they felt were helping their fellow man. He just happens to want to rid the world of the ‘Alien Filth.’ I’m not actually an Alien, but I suppose he doesn’t know that.
“The metallic crystalline structure of this material is actually something I’ve seen before,” I start to explain as I’m hefting the green and orange clad man out of the crumbling building face. “There was something like this in the laboratory where I was…”
Created. Except that I know, I’m not actually supposed to say that in a place where it might get caught. There are news people all over the place, so for once I make a small effort towards good behavior and curtail what I was about to say. Leaving me to tug the man out of the rubble and dangle him there by one arm.
“It’s a little more rudimentary than what I’ve seen before. The Project has existed for a long time, there’s a chance he’s got some connection to it, but I don’t recognize … uh…mootatoe? I dunno. Something like that.” Peering from the ghastly armor of the fallen bad guy, up to the far more sparkly armor of the Girl of Power? Much more pleasant sight. “Whatever his name is, I don’t think I need much help with this one. Need something to tie him up with. Hand me your electron rope.”
“The taser wire? Ahem. Wonder Woman,” harumphing softly to get her to look at me more closely, so that I can gesture to her suit’s belt. “It’s not just stylish, it’s functional. You didn’t read the manual did you?”
Cassie: He doesn’t need to finish. The lab where he was made. I know the truth of his upbringing, and it’s one of the only reasons I give him as much leeway as I do. Before I had feelings for him, that is. There’s a degree of knowing that it’s not all entirely his fault, but sometimes even that gets tempered by my thinking he uses it as an excuse on occasion. That’s not why it’s been brought up right now though. He’s seen a similar material before. Which means that NOWHERE had it, or something like it. What are the chances of NOWHERE project materials getting out into the world to be used by a random alien hater?
Slim. Possibly none. Maybe it’s just my last twenty-four hours that has me feeling suspicious and semi-hostile towards the powers that be, mystical or otherwise, but that purses my lips and makes me a little bit more grumpy than I already was. Are they sending out people, even if it’s in a roundabout way, to bring attention to the new Superman and what he can do? Or is it just a coincidence and powered heroes bring out like powered villains? Well. Except this shmuck apparently had not a snowflake’s chance in Hell.
“Metallo.”
It’s an offhand response, that I don’t actually expect to make any sort of dent in his ability to remember it. I mean. I made up at least twenty different variations on Superboy after we were introduced the first time. I was doing it to be contrary. I think that this Metallo? Just legitimately hasn’t made enough of an impression on Superman for him to have bothered to remember the proper chosen name for the man. I’d imagine he as just as much regard for his name, as he does for the man. Who he’s dangling like a plastic sack that is on its way out to the garbage. His harumph makes my blonde head tilt at him in confusion. The holdup on handing him the belt that wraps around and around my waist hadn’t been because I didn’t understand. I just didn’t understand why he wanted to tie the little green man up in the first place instead of simply carting him off to…
I suppose we’re pretending there’s not an affiliation. Check.
“I wasn’t given a manual. I was given the suit and then pushed off the proverbial diving board into the deep end of the swimming pool.”
But even as I complain, my hands stop fidgeting behind my back so that I can slide fingers into the twists of the rope. It doesn’t really matter where I grab hold of it, which is both elegant and really smart for practical use. It uncoils and responds to my touch, sliding off my hips and into a coil that I can offer out to him.
“I figured it out last week.”
Conner: Even if I’m sour at Cassie, I don’t question whether she knew about the belt or not. It was easier to tease her about than it was to think she was being silly about passing this guy off to the authorities. Once I’ve taken the belt in hand, a little super-speed has him bound the wrists, then again around the waist. Let’s just not talk about when, where and how I learned to tie someone up like this. That virtual reality training did have it’s high points. Especially when I was busy trying to test my boundaries and how far the observers would let me stray before resetting the whole thing.
“Yeah? Did you know it’s made from material we found in Greece? Some sort of old fleece or something. It’s extremely conductive. There was a time when the thought was to distill it down to use for wiring in the big brain super-computer they were building, but it’s got some sort of effect. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like whatever make it conductive also absorbs the neurons that need to fire in the brain. So they tried to figure out how to use it for interrogations but.. I dunno. Couldn’t get it to work the way they wanted, I guess. M’Gann said it looked good, so I took it.”
A hand raises to tell Cassie that she should hold on for a second, so that I can pimp-slap the groggily awakening Metallo and return him to la la land. Then I’m floating down and over to the awaiting Metro PD. They’ve dealt with these type of people before, but not for a long time. So I wrapped him up in order to insure that he wouldn’t escape and/or cause more crap, before my N.O.W.H.E.R.E. shows up to take him off of their hands. Which is likely to be at any given moment.
Another round of thank yous, not to mention autograph and interview requests, before I’m back in to the air. None of that pesky ‘getting out of dodge before the cops show up’ that Vigilantes endure. For better or worse, this City has embraced it’s Superman and Wonder Woman. Of course that’s why we came out the way we did. At a comic-con. Where the proper fanbase would be the first to write the narrative. Honestly, it’s not that difficult to work out. I didn’t need to be brilliant to work the Nerds, I just needed to put Cassie in a costume that was as much empowering as it was about drawing the attention. The Fanboys did all the rest of the work, just like I knew they would.
Though my plan worked on the surface, I’m also well aware that it only works so long as we play the proper part. We have to actually be Heroes, because if we’re anything else it opens the door for my Father to further cement himself as the ‘Only Hero, Earth Needs.’ I’m smart enough to know that Metallo there, was likely just the first of many tests I’m likely to endure in all of this. As my Dad maneuvers me in to publicly being his Champion or another Superman to be put down. That’s a risk I’ll accept, because it comes with the boon of his not knowing what to do with Cassie. She’s actually too Apple Pie for him to play that same game with. As long as she can ‘control’ me and he can ‘control’ her through fear of reprisals on Helena? We continue in this Cold War, I started at Comic Con.
Just as I’ve rejoined Wonder Woman, I turn enough to give the crowd a wave before heading up, up and away from the cameras. “You’ll be happy to know that all four of those Crocodile Men are safely in custody. Though, they’re not Crocodile Men any more. Dr. Fairchild tells me they reverted to a human state overnight and that they show no signs of being able to return to the other form.”
Cassie: “…the Golden Fleece?”
I don’t have to pretend to look a little shocked, shortly followed up by affronted. N.O.W.H.E.R.E. found the Golden Fleece and then used it for experiments? I mean, I’m not actually shocked. I probably should be. Oh, the warpath that my Mother would be on if she knew that it had been found, and then subsequently ruined. I might actually go to another part of the country for a while and take Conner with me if she knew. Maybe Gateway is far enough. We can go find the house I lived in when I was a toddler that I have zero memory of whatsoever, outside of the ones you think you have because you’ve seen something in pictures enough to associate it with yourself.
Maybe that’ll be my Hail Mary someday. Unleashing an enraged Helena Sandsmark on the group and standing back and watching the fallout. What else do they have down there that they’ve no right to? You know. Besides living, breathing people. Metas. Aliens. I spend the time that it takes Conner to smack Metallo around again to hang there in the air, still boggling about that particular revelation more than trying to figure out any particular way to actually make use of the thing. If I ever get it back now, that is. Watching him secure the green clad villain, I feel for a moment… superfluous in a way that doesn’t even seem right to me. Maybe I really didn’t sleep enough. So I smile, nod my acknowledgments from up in the air and let him have the bulk majority of the praise, attention and adoration. And maybe that is the right thing right now. The guy needs all the positive feedback he can get.
Especially after my epic fail yesterday. Yeah, he’d explained it in the most jackassed way possible. Then re-explained it not a whole lot better. Fortunately, or unfortunately, his prodigal best friend had sent me all the details. What exactly had happened. Why. I’m not sure if I’m upset I wasn’t warned about the full plan ahead of time or not. It’s done and finished either way. At least, finished until he decides to go see her again. Another grumpy, unpleasant thought to add to my collection I guess. One last bright smile, as Conner rejoins me and waves, and I’m following him up into the sky. Normally it’s incredibly hard for me to be anything but elated when I actually get to fly. The feeling still is tickling at my senses, but it’s not nearly distracting enough to keep my head from roiling through everything else. Neither is rubbing at my forearm that has already turned from angry red to mottled blues and purples. A souvenir from the Crocodile Men that he’s telling me are now safely in custody. Wait.
“…four? There were six.”
Seven if you count the one that got away that I did not mention to them in Fawcett. Though, now as I think about it when we’d been there together there had been six. One had disappeared, which should have netted more attention from me at the time than it had but I was…distracted. I’d also wanted to blame him for it at the time, because I’d seen that red gleam in his eyes and that never heralds anything great. I’d wanted to think it was just because I was angry at him, and not because he’d really just potentially murdered someone. Something? In plain view of everyone else. But now? My tone drops lower, and the words start to come out in a rush before I take a breath and collect myself again. Let him explain, Cassie. Give him a chance.
“What did you do to…? Aherm. Sorry. They reverted? Maybe they’re playing dumb then or… there was an awful lot of weird things going on, Conner. Gods and Monsters kind of weird. In Fawcett City. I thought their biggest problem would be who tipped Farmer Brown’s cow. But. I. Think I felt my…”
I hate using words that are applied to parents normally to Zeus. He wasn’t a Dad, or a Father, but calling him by name just seems so very weird. And some old names have power, as I started to even more clearly learn with my time in the Midwest.
“I felt my Father.”
Conner: By the time I’ve returned to her side there’s a growing crowd. Metallo had apparently taken over the Daily Planet in some sort of scheme to make them print his side of the story. Whatever that was. Holding the whole of the Newspaper as Hostage until his demands were met. Before I’d gotten there, the man had apparently held off authorities with all manner of super human powers. Controlling machines. Firing radiation blasts. Showing off his inhuman strength and lack of fine manners. That report, the old-lady with the nice rack had been the biggest object of his fascination. Demanding that she and she personally write the article that would tell the story of a second alien invasion. Heralded by your’s truly. Ugh.
By the time I had walked through radiation blasts. Let the guy punch me a couple times. Then let him monologue for a couple seconds. I was pretty sure he was harmless. He didn’t think he would be. Seemed convinced that I’d be ‘powerless before his righteous might.’ Idiot. I hope that Olsen guy caught my profile when I clobbered the bad guy. Maybe I should have given the big breasted girl an intervi… ohwait, Cassie’s saying something.
“It was kind of golden. At the time. Originally. Maybe. It was kind of a sickly old and moldy kind of looking. Before they threaded it, I mean. It looks great now. They said to stop by and pick it up at the precinct later.”
What did I do? Well, the one that bit Cassie had it coming. I’m about to tell her so when I realize that she’s taken that tone again. Maybe I should go back and do the interview. This whole lecture Conner thing is getting a little bit old, don’t you think? “Six, huh? Are you sure? Maybe you miss counted.”
“There were five of them that I handed over, but Doctor Fairchild said one of them didn’t make it through the processing. That happens. Some people react badly to being … neutralized… for containment. I know what you’re thinking, that sounds awful. I don’t disagree with you, but when it’s people like that. Dangerous people. They have to have their ability to put good people at risk neutralized. So their abilities are… negated? Is that a better word.”
Once we’re up, far enough, that I’m not worried about being watched or listened to? Then I’m happy to talk with Cassie about what she’s saying. Her Father? Now that’s one little item that I’m not entirely nonchalant about. Zeus. God of the Gods. Or at least, God of the Greek Pantheon. Roman Pantheon too, maybe. I think. I dunno. He’s a pretty big player in mythology though. Big enough that when I got my briefing from Raven, she made me stop playing Angry Birds to listen to that part fully.
“That’s not surprising, to be honest. Fawcett City has been a veritable hotbed of supernatural activity for a while, as I understand it. I was there before, actually. On an assignment. But, Cass, why would your Dad make a showing there? Was it during the Bank Robbery, with Crocodile Men?”
Cassie: “…you can never, and I mean never, mention that again within a five block radius of my Mom. I don’t think she has super hearing, beyond what all parents apparently have but, just to be safe.”
And boy, I won’t lie. I want to go see it. The Golden Fleece? It doesn’t matter that I now logically know all that stuff is probably real. Finding out for concrete fact that it is, and knowing where it’s located instead of lost in some ancient burial site… but I’m also not about to let even that lure me into the depths of NOWHERE’s facilities, where I’d have to assume it is. That would be pretty stupid of me. Sure, they might not just decide to get grabby out of ‘respect’ for Conner, or at least ‘respect’ for how much carnage he’s capable of unleashing if displeased. But then again. They might. What he says about the neutralizing.. ugh. That sounds awful but it makes a great deal of sense, I suppose. Especially if the change is so dramatic that you go from man to giant Crocodile Man. So all my initial response to that is…
“Oh.”
I don’t look happy about it, even if they were trying to kill me, and had actually killed several people before I arrived. Or at least, it seems that the one that bit me had.
“Yes I’m sure. I can count, Conner.”
And there were seven. One ran away. One neutralized. One with shattered teeth that had gone suspiciously missing while we were rounding them up and.. I’m not stupid. I know exactlywhat happened, and the withering look Conner’s getting right now says as much. But I also, miraculously I’m sure, don’t launch into lecturing him about what he can or can’t do in situations like that. Even if someone did hurt me a little bit. I guess I’m picking my battles as we rise through the clouds.
“Really? It seems like the least likely place for that kind of thing. I mean. It pushed even my tolerance for the mundane. Except for the Bank Robbery. Were there Crocodile Men when you were there before? Everything going on in that basement was very… Egyptian. He wasn’t there. Not really, I don’t think but…”
Spreading my hands as I do a lazy little barrel roll in my ascent, like I just can’t quite seem to help myself.
“I felt something so familiar. And then there was a whole lot of lightning. Which is about when I got the freak out. I don’t know if it was supposed to help, or hurt. I didn’t stick around to find out.”
Conner: “Uh. Okay? Does that mean you don’t want your belt back?”
Apparently the old mangy fleece that was used in some small part to make her belt, is in some way important enough that I’m not supposed to talk about it again. Not around the Mom unit. Given that I’m allowed to talk about everything else. Even encouraged to do so. This marks the belt topic as either extremely important or one of those fashion topics that her mother just won’t understand. History? Not my strong suit. I mean, I had to go study up on Cassie just to understand her parentage. Then get some insider information to understand what I’d read actually meant. Immortality being a particular source of irritation for me, if I’m being honest.
Either way, I’m good with not discussing it. Nor discussing my own reasons for including it in to the ensemble of what Cassie wears. Maybe in spite of everything that is otherwise accounted for with me? Her costume wasn’t entirely an act of selfishness. Sure, I wouldn’t allow it to be anything but sexy. Okay, guilty as charged. However, I put a good bit of any favor owed to be in the Project in to making sure that it was functional in every way. Without being a tool of the project itself. As far as I know Cassie isn’t monitored, like I am. The broach at her throat isn’t just some sort of kinky collar, it’s got some sort of warding on it to keep the ‘Gods’ or anyone else from mentally infringing upon her. Then there’s the belt, which we’ve talked about. The gauntlets which are as close to unbreakable as you can find on this planet. She should probably just not ask me what was destroyed to make them those.
“Alright, I know you can count. What I’m really asking is, are you sure you actually want to know? Because I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you even if I know you’re going to be pissy about it. Even if I know you’re going to lecture me about it. I tell you the truth, Cass. I don’t hide stuff from you, unless you’ve made it clear that you don’t want to know. But lately? I’m starting to think I should keep things from you, like you do me. That’s what people do, right? They keep things from the people they love, if it’s going to hurt them.”
Yeah, I’m aware she’s letting me off the hook. I should have taken that out and ran with it, but I’m still a little miffed at being growled at after I did what she’s been wanting me to do! It wasn’t fair and I’m tired of being constantly punished. Especially when, as near as I can tell, I’ve done nothing more or less than what she’s been after me to do for about a year. Hrmph.
Her flittering about in the air is enough to take some of the wind out of my sails as far as that goes. Hard not to actually take part in her joy over flying, even if it’s second nature to me. I find myself struggling to stay on the ground. Like the planet is rejecting it’s gravitational hold over me all the time. It brings me back to earth, so to speak, on to focusing with her on what else she’s saying. The non-nattering, bitching at and lecturing me part. As she speaks, I bring myself to a halt and hover there. Listening, but doing so mostly as I watch her enjoying this aspect of our ‘new lives’ so much. I know, for better or worse, that I did the right thing there too. How can I not when she’s so clearly pleased with flying so care free?
“When I first got out, the Project was fuming at me over destroying their lab. So they sent me on some sort of impossible mission. I was told, later, that they expected one of two outcomes. Either, I’d fail and they’d move on to the next version of me. Or I’d succeed and prove that I was worth all the trouble I cause.”
“So, I get to Fawcett City and I spend the first day there trying to find the thread. It was too much like the V.R., I thought that some how they’d tricked me again. But I couldn’t find a thread. A point where the V.R. isn’t complete. A hole. Something the programmers didn’t account for someone looking at, looking in to or through. Then it happened. The storm. It rumbled in to town. People were scattered, talking about tornadoes and flying cows. I had to go check it out. So I fly out to this old saw mill and while everyone is running and hiding, all over the city? I find this kid. I mean, a real kid. Younger than me.”
“He was just sitting there. Watching the storm. Looked like he’d been in a fight. The whole place was trashed. Smelled of ozone. When he saw me, flying towards him? I don’t know. He called me Adam or something. The next thing I know I’m being attacked by… thunder and lightning. It was crazy. I never did figure out if he was controlling it or not.”
Floating a little closer, I let her take all of that in before I say anything more. She was trying to tell me about her Father. About this familiar feeling. I don’t normally tell her about NOWHERE stuff, especially assignments. Not unless she asks. That’s one of those things I was talking about before. Maybe I should start keeping things to myself, but this seems like something she might need to know. That lightning seems common place there. If it’s tied to her Father, then maybe it explains why she was called there. In the middle of nowhere to fight Crocodile Men? I dunno, never got to ask why she was there actually, come to think of it.
“There were no crocodile men there. Just crazy lightning guy. At the time, I thought maybe he was protecting the kid, but later. After the dust cleared. I got the impression he was the kid.”
Cassie:
“<i>Yes</i>, I want my belt back. I like my belt. I liked it even before I figured out it wasn’t just <i>spangly</i>. But my <i>Mom</i> will be righteous livid pissed about the “desecration of an invaluable cultural and historical artifact that can never be replaced” and… I’m paraphrasing but I’m probably pretty close to the screeches that would come out of her mouth. Seriously. Her head might explode.”
Mine had threatened to do pretty much the same, and I don’t have nearly the same level of reverence for the stuff as she does. Which is saying a lot, since that ‘stuff’ has been all I’ve wanted to spend my adult life on since I was about three. Which Conner clearly didn’t understand. He doesn’t really have a reason to, and I shouldn’t be all that surprised given that’s what I’m technically supposed to be tutoring him in. As used to Conner Luthor as I’ve gotten? Sometimes it’s easy to forget the disconnect and his hangups. Or maybe just easy to forget that he doesn’t exactly parse the world the same way I do. So his question? His leveling with me on the way the lectures are making him feel makes me sigh, closing my eyes for a moment and enjoying the feel of the sun on my face, before I turn it back towards him again.
“Conner. That’s not fair.”
I’d argue about keeping multiple things from him, because I’m not. I mean. It’s kind of a conglomerate of things that I think of as <i>one</i> thing, that all started with Timothy Drake-Wayne asking me to keep Conner, and <i>myself</i> out of Gotham City. His working things out had turned into me trying to work this entire situation, and it feels a little like it’s spinning out of the original scope and scale. But that doesn’t mean I want to, or can, abandon it. I don’t lie to Conner. I recognized a while ago that it’s the only thing that gives me any real power over him and his actions. That he knows I’m going to be honest with him, and not hide things. Tim’s secret was one thing. That’s not my secret to tell. The rest? The rest I <i>can’t</i> tell him, no matter how much I want to right now. Because the truth is, Conner knows so much more about this stuff than I do. About metas. He’d probably be a pretty great source, if I dared to ask him.
“I mean. You’re not wrong. That is why people keep secrets. Or because they don’t want to be caught doing something they know is wrong. I’m trying to do something right. And it’s not that I think it’s going to hurt <i>you</i>. I’m just trying to keep a lot of <i>other</i> people from getting hurt and as soon as I think it’s safe? I’m <i>going</i> to tell you. I hope maybe you might even be half as proud of me as I am of you for yesterday.”
There it is. It may not have been phrased like a traditional apology, but that’s more or less what it was. If I said I was sorry, I’m actually kind of worried Conner might think I was saying the words just to soothe him, and not because I actually agreed with what he’d done. It would mean I was sorry for my reaction, but maybe not that I was fine with how he’d behaved. Honestly? I didn’t actually need Tim to tell me what he had, not about the motivation part. I know he’s trying, and I know why. It’s why he gets so confused when he’s read between my lines and gotten a different message than I was really putting out there. He’s <i>trying</i>. If anything, what had been shocking out of that particular text message was that Tim was saying it at all. Given our last conversation especially. And I <i>am</i> proud of my boyfriend for trying to do something right, for the right reasons, even if he kind of flubbed the landing a little bit.
My lazy twists and loops aren’t really taking me anywhere, they’re just being done because it feels good and it’s a lot more lighthearted an action than this conversation probably merits right now. I want to stop doing it, actually, when he starts to tell me about his last trip to Fawcett. It’s not that the name ‘Adam’ dings a bell in my head, or even the similar storm. Another roll, as my brain starts to put together the things that Freddy had said about ‘the last guy’ and the story that I’m hearing right now. Oh <i>hell</i>. Oh <i>shit</i>. Twisting towards the sun again, I try to alleviate the sinking, sick feeling in my stomach. <i>How could you</i>… No. No, Cassie. How could <i>they</i>. I’m not going to ask him what happened. Because he’s going to tell me. I already know, I think, and I don’t want to hear him say it. Instead I right myself, still squinting towards the horizon and clench my fists.
“I hate that they made you do that. I <i>hate</i> it. And that’s why I can’t tell you the thing I’ve been hiding. And that I’m going to keep hiding.”
He’s a smart guy, and he thinks he’s put it together. I guess he partially has, he’s just not quite got it right.
Conner: “Cass, baby. They didn’t make me do it.”
This works two ways. She doesn’t lie to me. I don’t lie to her. It has been that way since the first time we met. With all of the terrible things that I’ve done, one thing I’ve kept true to is my word on that first meeting. ‘I’ll never lie to you.’ I never have. Sometimes my interpretation of things is different than other people’s, but that’s still not the same as lying. Heck, I even know that my perceptions work a little differently than others. I care about different things. In a way that makes Metallo right about me, I’m an alien in this world. Even if I’m a product of it as much as anyone else.
One thing that is important to me, has always been important to me? Is that if I tell Cassie something, that she can trust it to be the absolute truth as I know it to be. If I say I’ll do something, I will. I don’t even cut corners on that, if I promise to be good I do. If I promise to wait, I do even when she begs me not too. To me this is kind of our deal. Trust exists where it shouldn’t, but flourishes all the same. And the truth? Is that they, N.O.W.H.E.R.E., didn’t make me. They didn’t blackmail me. They didn’t hold something over me to extort me.
“I didn’t know this world, I didn’t know you, Cass. What I knew was a fabricated world that had no consequences. I knew that in this world there were no consequences for me. They wanted to test me, I could have told them to go fuck themselves. What could they do? I mean that. What could they do to me? Whine? Cry? Make threats? Uncork another little me and send it at me? I broke their simulator. Then I broke their mold. I knew their threats were hollow then.”
“They wanted to test me and I wanted to test my limits. So I went and I found the little boy. I’m not too proud to say I read the whole situation wrong. I thought I was flying towards some meta that lost control of their powers. I’d read about weather manipulators. It made sense. The kid wouldn’t listen to me. I don’t even know if he could hear me. All I knew is that the Project considered him to be dangerous and wanted him neutralized. I went there, intending to do that very thing. Except, I got my lights punched out. Like four times.”
People that don’t even know me would know that I was telling the truth right here. -I- don’t admit to failure often. There is always a spin. Something that wasn’t my fault or that was out of my control. It’s not hard to believe me either, because there isn’t a lot of things that I can’t do. So saying someone punched my lights out? Means exactly that.
“The guy was amazing, Cass. It was marvel to see in person. He moved so fast that I couldn’t even keep up, at first. Punched harder than anything I’ve ever felt. His fists crackled with electricity. Somehow he knew what I was, he called me Pinocchio. He just looked at me and knew more about me than I knew about myself. We fought for so long. Let me tell you, I lost more than once that day. I didn’t know I could heal the way I do and I hadn’t been able to store enough solar energy to be at my best yet.”
“He beat me. Fair and Square. That’s the only time I’ve ever needed a medical evac. Except they didn’t come. Not until, I crawled out of that mill. Saw the little boy sitting there… talking to someone I couldn’t even see. I knew it, right then and there, that he was the cause of the storm and that he was crazy. I did the only thing I could. Heat vision melts anything, but I remember the last thing he said. He called his imaginary friend Shazam and told him to run.”
Cassie: That’s not exactly the kind of thing anyone wants to hear, is it? You’ve assigned guilt and blame to someone else, only to be told nah. It was me. I know how things work with the world, at least as much of it as I’ve seen at my age and that’s a lot more than most adults ever have. Maybe ever will. In this case? I don’t actually agree with him. I believe that he thinks that. That it was his choice, and maybe it was Conner’s choice not to refuse to go. But given the situation was there really any other option to pick? And if anyone actually had told him they expected him to fail, they may as well have been pushing a button that would set him on only one course. Revolving slowly in the air, I turn to face him again so that he doesn’t think I’m.. I don’t know. Intentionally not looking at him or anything. Arms folded across my chest and lips pursed, but it’s not judgement on my face.
I mean. I can be judgey, clearly. Conner got to see a whole lot of judgey face yesterday. Even earlier, when I realized what happened to the CrocMan that had bitten me. Even though they were trying to kill me, I could still be displeased about the way it was done. Now. I am surprised to hear that someone knocked his ass out. Not because I don’t think anyone can do that, who knows what’s out there. But to hear him say it. No excuse about how it wasn’t his fault, or they’d cheated, or some other mitigating factor. Just that he’d lost. Surprised. And then furious at them leaving Conner there. Furious about the whole situation that they’d set up even if they didn’t force him to do anything. And if he’d failed, then they would have sent someone else to do the job.
“All that power, and he still didn’t have a chance.”
He sounds like he’d been much more powerful than Freddy is. Or at least, than he is right now. Strength of Hercules. The lighting, the speed. Freddy’s fast, incredibly fast like Conner’s saying this kid had been. But the rest of those powers seem to be with someone else. Can more than one person do these trials at a time? What happens at the end then? Or is there an end? I do know that name though. Shazam. It’s what they’d said there in the bank vault. I still don’t think I understand if it’s a title, or if it’s a person. A being. A much more stubborn expression starts to creep into my features before I let out a soft huff of air. Maybe if he hadn’t been alone. I’m not going to let anyone have to be alone again. Not if I can help it.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have been there, then. But I was. And there was something in that bank that those Crocodiles were much more scared of than they were of me. I mean. I didn’t phase them at all. That lighting was…unreal though. Out of the sky, down through the building…. how asinine do you think it would be to come up here and just start yelling at the sky demanding some answers?”
The twist of my mouth says I’m kidding. Well. Half kidding.
Conner; Oh, I’ve been scrutinizing Cassie’s reaction the entire time. Waiting for what I was anticipating. It only shows through for a second there, but even then I’m not sure she’s mad at me so much as what had happened. The situation. Cassie is very understanding of the things I’ve done. It is one of her most charming traits. It’s also one of the things that bugged me most about yesterday. I’d been trying to do things her way, but it all went to hell. Really quickly. So fast that I’d had to do something extreme to make it work out. I hadn’t considered it extreme at the time, but judging by her reaction…
“No, he didn’t,” there’s a soft, quick, shake of the head. “He couldn’t be controlled or contained and he demonstrated that he wouldn’t play by the rules. Their rules. So he never stood a chance. That’s the only thing I’ll put out there. If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else. Someone(s) else, until they got the result they desired.”
“But. Until today, I didn’t really question whether that kid was out of his mind bonkers. I mean, I’ve questioned a lot of their missions for various reasons but not that one. Until you called me to Fawcett City and then told me what was going on? About the storm. The lightning. I actually had this one down as one of the Good Ones.”
We’ve talked about this before. N.O.W.H.E.R.E. is repugnant to Cassie, I get it. There just happens to be a little more to the story. Nothing is all good or bad. I mean, look at my Father. People like Cassie’s mother find him repulsive. Yet, he did save the entire world. More than once. N.O.W.H.E.R.E. takes extreme measures with people like Cass, because the alternative is to wait and see if she’ll turn out to be one of those who either can’t control her powers or actually chooses to use them for ill intent. According to Doctor Fairchild, the ratio of ‘Good Missions’ to ‘Bad Missions’ used to slant toward the good more so than the bad. These days though? Since my Father’s rise to power, it seems to tilt the other way.
“I used to do that. Come up here. Maybe even a little higher. Scream at stars. Vent my frustration. They never answered me. Though, you might have a better cellular connection to the ones who might actually pick up the phone.”
Speaking of Fathers though, there is one other thing I’ve been meaning to say. It takes me drifting over toward her before I actually do it though. “So. When I was fighting with that kid’s protector, he was channeling the lightning. Like he was straight out of those Percy Jackson books you were reading. Maybe who ever your crocodiles were afraid of? Maybe he was doing the same thing.”
“Which actually brings me back to the Crocodile Bank Robber Men. ( There has to be an easier name for those guys. ) The Doctor says that she thinks they weren’t really Croc-Men. ( That’s what I’m going with, by the way. ) She has a working hypothesis that they were somehow imbued. We’ve seen that before. Power transferal or sharing.”
Cassie: If it hadn’t been Conner, it would have been someone else. I mean, I’d figured as much. And I know how their recruitment tactics go, so the ‘someone else’ might have been a whole lot less willing and able. Maybe they would have gotten themselves killed instead of just seriously hurt. The possibilities whirl through my head, until with a little grimace I have to push them away. It does absolutely no one any good for me to tear myself up about what happened. I wasn’t there. I wasn’t even involved in the slightest way. Worrying about that day? And that poor boy? Isn’t going to change it. I just have to do what I can to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Because Freddy? Isn’t crazy. He’s not a bad guy either, quite the opposite in fact. I hadn’t just been fluffing his ego or trying to get him to trust me when I’d told him what I saw in that booth in front of me.
This would probably be a much more productive conversation if I felt able to tell him that there’s another boy now. That it wasn’t just me and the crocodiles down there. Or even what they were after. In hindsight, the whole thing is starting to feel more like a failure on my part for not stopping other things besides the devouring of the civilians. Where had Isis gone? Had the lightning given her what she wanted? Where’d the other Crocodile go?
“I don’t think he was crazy. I don’t know. The storm was already there when I got to Fawcett. It just didn’t do anything but threaten until that moment in the bank. Maybe that was Zeus expressing displeasure at what was coming. Or maybe someone was controlling it. I don’t know. I think if it did I could make more sense out of what I saw and felt.”
One blonde eyebrow arches at Conner, because on one hand I find it hard to picture him yelling and carrying on just to get it off his chest. On the other hand… who else did he really have to express frustration to before? I’m torn between finding the mental image sad or funny. I settle for pulling a face at my own predicament.
“That’s kind of what I’m afraid of. That I’ll get an answer. I’ve never wanted one before, or felt like I needed it. Part of me just doesn’t want to give Him the satisfaction of knowing I might need Him.”
I haven’t before. Of course for all I know, he might never have thought or looked in on me again. The timely surfacing of my powers kind of hints to me that isn’t the case, though. Drumming my fingers on the opposite forearms, I mull over what he’s said. I would feel even sillier about reading those books, especially with how on the nose they are, except that I’d read them long before I had powers, or even had an inkling that those Ancient Gods were real. And once I did? The thought of a Destiny like in those stories filled me with a whole lot of concern, and maybe a tiny bit of excrement. Only a tiny, tiny bit though.
“…I was kind of going with Crocomaggia, personally… hrrr.”
Her hypothesis, as conveyed by Conner, makes me cringe and then squint over at him. Chewing on the corner of my lip for a moment before I go back to speaking.
“So. Like if…for example, hypothetically speaking…there was a big leader Croco-Man and he changed other people into them?”
Conner: “Hey, Wonder Woman isn’t afraid of anything. Especially not answers. She likes answers. She craves answers. Especially when she’s the one asking the questions.”
Isn’t that what ‘Wonder Woman’ is? The embodiment of all that Cassie has wanted to be for so long. The one leading the charge. Going out there, in to the world and not shunting part of herself off in to a little corner where everyone else wants to put her. For the first time tonight, I give her a little nudge of a hand. Maybe even a brush of fingertips to move golden hair from her face, so that the world (and your’s truly) can see her for the Goddess she is. I’m about as serious as I am, ever, right now. Maybe I misunderstood, again. But I thought when she told me what it was like to finally be able use her powers in front of the world, that she felt empowered to finally be something to people. Like her whole life had been building to that point.
Of course, I’ve also got to admit that she wasn’t really ready for it when i pushed her out on to that stage. So maybe I’ve expedited the whole idea. Or even forced her to do what was only a whimsical dream. In the end, I still know Cassie to be the girl with all the questions. Never giving up on asking them. “… but I will tell you. No one ever answers me. That’s alright. I don’t necessarily need them to answer.”
“I will tell you though. Raven has tried to coach me on this whole magic thing you’ve got going on about you. Not my bag, really. But your Mom? Your Mom told me that the Gods are kinda… forbidden from partaking in the world of Man anymore. At least not quite so directly as they used too. Your Mom’s kinda awesome, y’know? I figured one of us should eventually talk to her about it.”
Cassie: “That isn’t true. She just has to keep her freaking out on the inside where no one else sees it. I’m pretty sure no one wants to put the fate of the world in the hands of someone running around in circles and flailing like a decapitated chicken.”
But otherwise, he really isn’t wrong I guess. I do want to know. I’ve always wanted to know. Sure, they used to be different questions, and the scale of them was a lot smaller and a lot less personal, but inquisitive and precocious have kind of always been my things. It’s what I’m enjoying so much about my history class, there’s actual answers to questions I didn’t have yet, there. For half a second, I start to compare the time of day, with whether or not I’d be able to go change and get back to St. Mary’s in time to make that particular period. What the Hell, Cassie? You’re flying. No one can or wants to stop you, and you’re sharing it with Conner. The two of you aren’t even arguing right now. Why would I want to interrupt that for anything?
When his fingertips brush mine, my hand darts out to close the little gap and grab hold. I’m not Mercury fast, but hey. When I want something I’m quick enough to go for it, right?
“That’s how it went in Percy Jackson, too. And it was because my genetic donor laid down that law. If he’s doing it, what’s to stop all the rest from trying?”
Rolling blue eyes in an exaggerated fashion, I use my grip on his hand to pull him in to me. Or maybe it’s me over to him. it gets a little difficult to tell when you’re up here and gravity and normal physics quit feeling like so much of a factor in life.
“Ugh. What is it with everyone I know and the not subtle hints to talk to my Mom about things? Want to go save some more cats? She can’t be mad at me when I turn up after playing hookie if I was doing it to save the world. I think that’s a thing.”
Conner: “Wait. That wasn’t a subtle hint to anything. I talk to you Mom all the time. Have you met your Mom? She’s hot. And smart. And hot. Very, very hot. I know where you got the looks portion of the Goddess schitck. Bow wow chicka…”
There’s no need to duck or flinch, I know it’s coming. Normally in the form of an elbow to the ribs. I’m ready for it, but I’m also goading her intentionally. Playfully. She apologized, I let it go by without even pointing out how weak it had been. Now I’m letting her know that everything is ‘Okay’ with us. It’s how I tease, by poking and prodding her to get some sort of reaction. Not always the best ones or the ones I’m looking for, but it tells her that things are back to the state of normal we’ve lived in for the past couple years.
Not all of that is teasing though. I think I talk to Cassie’s Mother more than she does these days. That’s how I get her on my side. I’m also pretty sure the reason she is on my side so often, is because I’m in there talking to her. I talk a lot. Helena Sandsmark is smart. She thinks she’s eliciting information out of me. I’m happy to let her think that, so long as I’m getting what I want out of the deal. Cassie -is- a Cheerleader after all. Whether she wanted to be or not. That’s what I’m buying with my chit-chat! The price is easily paid, if you could see that skirt she has to wear.
“We can’t really go save more cats right now. I’ve been at this since School started. There are no more cats in Metropolis that need saving and the ones that might, are too afraid of my returning to try it again.” That smile of mine is heading towards a smirk though. “How about we go get your fancy fleece rope back and I’ll show you how to tie all sorts of knots with it?”
“Tell you what. I’ll even tell you all about the theory Dr. Fairchild has about your Crocmaggia while I’m demonstrating those knots on you. You more or less got the jist of it though. Did you see the … Crocfather? Did you know… Great men aren’t born great, they’re grown great….” This is one of those weird moments, when you have to realize that I, Conner Luthor, am doing an actual Marlon Brando impression. Complete with the marble cheeked voice and wratcheting eyebrows. “… he coulda been a contenda…”
Cassie: “Yes, I have met my Mom.”
I’d protest the repeated pointing out that my Mother happens to be pretty attractive for a forty year old woman, but I have learned better by now. I mean. She is. I’m not debating it. But any attempt to get Conner to knock it off only results in it being worse, and possibly with me having to watch over dinner while he flirts with her. I like to avoid that when possible. And no, not because I’m not talking to my Mom. I talk to her all the time! I mean. Not today, but yesterday! Things like this are exactly why she likes my boyfriend better than me. He’s a suck up. And for that fact, I don’t deny him a part of the usual reaction. When I drop his hand and give him a shove that displaces me more than it does him.
“Only if you want me to start calling you Boy Scout in public, also I’m much too smart to fall for that trap.”
Because with that smirk, I know better than to agree to this particular offer. Pervert. I guess I’ll just have to settle for my material contribution to his Metallo bust, which I’m sure my Mother will be more than happy to hear all about. For a moment, I think he’s actually asking me a legitimate question. I even start to reply that yes, I think I did see the Crocfather, and that I let him bolt so that I could catch Freddy, and then didn’t hunt him down again afterwards (maybe without all of those details) when I realize he’s not actually asking me a question. He’s clowning around and quoting that movie he likes so much, voice impression included.
How obnoxious. And how weirdly comforting at the same time.
“Oh my God, how long have you been waiting for that opening?”
I don’t wait around for an answer. I’m willing to bet since yesterday, but with a bubble of laughter making its way out of my chest, I tip my head back and then let the rest of me follow. Curving my back and then letting gravity have me as I plummet back towards the buildings of Metropolis below us. I’m okay. We’re okay. And I’m going to make damn sure it stays that way.