Conner : It isn’t easy being a super powered person in this world. It all started in the good ol’ forties, when the War was winding down and people were just starting to think about what would be the next step in the arms race. Nuclear power was in it’s infancy, but it had already been accomplished and America won. Just ask Japan. What or should I say ‘Who’ was next?
The Justice Society had gone in to the Great War as unknowns, but came out of it heroes. The spotlight was on them, yet as soon as the ticker tape parades ended they were under a very different microscope. Eventually their fame faded and they were forced in to the shadows out of a sense of self-preservation. Nuclear Weapons gave a country power, but only so much as mutual annihilation would allow. There had to be a next step and that proved to be right in front of the politicians faces.
At first it began as nothing more than observation. The Senate created a policy allowing for the monitoring of meta-humans for the purpose of collecting data in order to properly plan for the contingency of ‘What if?’ What if the next Atom was a bad guy? So began the ball rolling. As time passed, the politicians were able to slowly put focus not upon the many good deeds, but draw out the drama of the few bad. Giving life to the one thing that drives Humanity most: Fear.
Enter the Superman. Loved as a Champion. Favored as a deity. His story was the tipping point. As with any great Hero, you must have a villain. Superman had many. Each one nastier, trickier and more deadly than the last. With each Victory, Superman created the momentum that would power his greatest adversary to victory. My Father. Alexander Luthor. Better known as President of the United States of America. For Life.
Each battle Superman fought, and won, still came with casualties. Luthor highlighted each of them. He became the Voice of the Voiceless. Framing himself as a Hero in his own right, he battled for control over Metas as if they were any gun. Still Superman persevered. The adulation of many kept him above reproach. Until one day he simply …left.
No one knows why. Although the story that the Daily Planet told is that he chose to leave before he was forced to pick between being Superman and being a weapon for the government. Any government. They sold the story that he would return one day. When the time was right and the world was ready to accept rise above the pettiness of politicians seeking power. If the story is true? Then little did Superman know that he had played right in to the hands of his greatest enemy.
Free of Superman’s vigilance, Luthor was able to effect change. Preying upon the fear of what might happen without Superman to protect them? He empowered an Agency meant only to watch, to observe and catalog to act as a tool with which to build an army of super powered soldiers. Furthermore he did not need the Superman to bend his knee to the authority of the United States. Not when he had his very own Superman growing in a vat beneath Capitol Hill.
“Come on. Keep up. And stop pouting. This,” pointing toward Cassandra Sandsmark, but not at her so much as the outfit that she is wearing, “Was your idea. Oh don’t even try it. All that talk about the good I could do with my powers. You know damned well that I am not ever gonna do that without the proper motivation.”
“Blah blah blah, with great power comes even greater responsiblaaaaaaaaaagh…… your ass in spandex motivates me. Not some loser quote out of a poorly written comic book. Besides. What else were you going to do tonight? Sit on the couch and beg your mom to let you skip your Senior Year, to go on the big dig in Khandaq again for the six thousandth time?”
Cassie : I missed a lot of the hubbub about Superman. As much as you can really miss something like that, I mean. He was global news. But there’s a degree of frenzy that comes when you’re dealing with a Hometown Hero, when you actually have the possibility of seeing the Man of Steel during your daily commute, or maybe being part of the fallout of something yourself. He was gone by the time that Mom and I settled here in Metropolis, in hindsight I can’t help but wonder if maybe that was part of the reason she chose it. The timing and the location. Or maybe it was just removing a last hesitation she might have had, because the rest is too easy to explain. The Museum she is posted with is prestigious, the amount of ancient material there pretty astonishing. I only had two years left of ‘high school age’ so that too was kind of a now or never situation if she really had wanted to continue the grand scheme to force me through the high school experience.
It’s not that bad. Really. High school. I doubt St. Mary’s is really a true experience for American High School, more like greatly amplified stakes and bitchery. If one thing’s true here that I’m sure is also true in public school though, it’s the fact that if you run the place? It’s a lot easier on your sanity. It’s not exactly what I’d wanted, I had wanted to just get it over with, with minimum participation from me. But here we are. Not literally though.
Where we are right now is something entirely different. With nothing to do with why I’d originally just wanted to blend in. Now it’s just that much more important. There’s absolutely no fitting in right now, with anyone except the boy I’m with. Normal people don’t wear spandex. Not unless they’re at the gym or making questionable wardrobe choices. And I’m fairly sure this goes beyond spandex. Plucking absently at the fabric on my hip is kind of an exercise in futility, it’s almost too tight to even pull at.
He’s right. I am pouting. Just a little. It happens anytime I get cornered into doing something I don’t really want to. And this time it really is my fault. I manage Conner. It’s like, a full time job. And sometimes all that expert managing means that I have to do something absolutely ridiculous like let him dress me up like a superhero, even though I spend 99% of my time making it look like I’m just what I should be. A normal, if smart and talented, teenager.
“I was not. I wouldn’t even have to skip it, I could pass all of the tests right now. People test out and graduate all the time. Some much younger than me, I mean. I’m practically underachieving for what I’m capable of.”
Giving up on messing with the red material, I let out a huff of air and plant my fists on my hips.
“And with the time difference, if the school thing is really her reason I can’t go, I could totally do both. It takes me almost as much time to get to school in the morning as it would to fly back and forth.”
For once, this round of ire isn’t really directed at Conner. He just happens to be here to hear it. I’m just grouchy, and it isn’t fair.
“Whatever. Lets just…do this…but. Really. This thing couldn’t have been cut higher?”
I don’t even try to tug the top of the ‘uniform’ up higher. I’ve tried a million times. It’s secure and not going to budge. Which is…good and bad for my self-esteem and sense of modesty.
Conner : “You know as well as I do that you’re not there to get an education from the professors,” because if there’s one thing anyone knows, if you’ve ever spoken to Cassie for more than a heartbeat, is that she’s smart and you don’t even have to ask her for her to tell you. “You’re there for the experience. Which, I might add, is why your Mother happens to love me.”
“I make you experience everything.”
There’s no blush. Why would I blush about stating the absolute truth. So what if there’s part of the experience(s) that should be mortifying. It isn’t to me. I’m pretty much oblivious to the social nicety of being abashed. It’s not my forte. But that gives Cassie something to do. She worries, a little too much, about what people think. Or how other people feel. In a way, it makes up for my sociopathic lack of the very same sense of ‘give a damn.’ Cassie cares about people, I care about Cassie.
The real problem for the two of us? Is that I’m not a sociopath. They lack the ability to care for social norms. In many cases they lack the ability to care for others. That’s not the case with me. I can feel all the emotions anyone else can. I just grew up in a holographic representation of this world. Where the programmers coded in things just to test my reactions. So much, so often, that once I was empowered with my abilities enough to recognize the world beyond the holograms? All I actually learned was how to numb myself to the world around me. I suppose that makes me something of a highly functional sociopath, with psychopathic tendencies, but.. whatever. That’s not what I am Today!
Today, I’m Superman. And what better place to come out of the proverbial super-closet?
Comicon.
“Also. How come it’s okay for you to use your Goddess Brain to graduate early? But you say it’s not okay for me to use my powers to read the test answers?” Oh, this is one of those perfect times when I’ve got her right where I want her. Because she can’t really argue with me on this. “Hey. We’ve been over this before. Can you prove you’re not super-smart because of good old fashion godbrain? Cheaters never prosper, right?”
With that I’m darting closer. Close enough, in fact, just to get my hand upon her’s in order to tug her out of the dressing room. Dressing Rooms, that are normally reserved for V.i.P types. Of which we are. Or rather, I am. I’m an invited guest after all. Here at my Dad’s request. He wants the world to see that America hasn’t lost it’s Big Gun. It’s all an act, that I wouldn’t be bothered with. If not for the girl next to me. She’s the only thing super about this Boy, really. That same tug that pulls her in to the air, sends us swooshing toward the entrance to the stage. Which leads out to an official looking press conference. All of whom are waiting for the big unveil.
They have no idea what’s coming. And neither does Cassie. Until we fly right through the big ‘curtain’ and the lights of cameras start to go off. “Golly. Your Mom is going to be so pissed.”
Cassie : “I can experience it, and still experience some other once in a lifetime things! I thought you wanted me to use my powers more. That would definitely be an exercise in flight practice. High speed flight practice.”
He’s not the one I need to convince though, we both know that. And if I’ve learned anything lately it’s that my Mother isn’t going to have her mind swayed unless she was already inclined in that direction anyway. She doesn’t seem to be this time, and I don’t like it. At all. The only other time she’s put her foot down like this was when she insisted on school in the first place. I’d always gotten to go on digs with her before. I’d always gotten to be there, and the fact that I’m not being allowed this time makes me more suspicious than sulky, to be honest.
“Yes, I can. Because Mom’s smarter than I am and she’s one hundred percent mortally normal. And even if there wasn’t that, I can’t help the brain. It was like this before the physical powers turned up, if it even is a power, and if you go by mythology there was a whole lot of pretty dumb Gods. And even if we ignore that, it’s active versus inactive cheating. You would consciously be taking someone else’s answers. And we both know you don’t need to.”
I started jabbing a finger into his chest at some point in the middle of that rant, and I hadn’t really meant to. Not like I’m going to hurt him, but again the arguing is more just a manifestation of my frustration. Something that the costume and where we are isn’t really helping. Now, him in costume? That’s something I’m on board with. I mean. Look at him. Then I realize I’m only really jabbing him in the chest because he’s gotten close enough for it, and that jabbing hand is all too easily grabbed and used to haul me out of the ‘safety’ of the dressing room. Out into ‘public’ in what’s more covering than my school uniform I suppose, but leaves nothing to the imagination because. Spandex.
Fine. We’ll go show off for the geeks in the area, pose for some pictures with people that think we’re dressed up and… oh…crap… we’re in the air? We’re in the air. Not a strange place for me, I can fly just as well as he can, but not in public. Not when anyone can see and certainly not through a curtain and straight into the flash of bulbs. Gods. I’m not sure which is happening faster, the color draining from my face, or it shooting back up into my cheeks.
“Oh. She’s…not the only one. Did you know about this?”
This. Right here. Is a rhetorical question. Duh. He knew. He planned and maneuvered the whole thing. Me asking the question means I know he knows and I want him to admit it.
Conner : “Are you asking if I actively knew or inactively suspected that this is what was out here?”
See this smile? You cannot fake this smile. It means that I’ve actually gotten the better of something for once. In the War of Words, this time. Honestly, I’m not even just thinking that. Cassie let herself get to the point of ranting. Once she does that it’s pretty easy to maneuver her, because despite being one of the smartest people I’ve ever met? Well, the truth is she manages to also be pretty trusting. Even when she knows better. Letting her rant is the key to getting her off balance, but first you have to get her to rant. I picked the topic that I did, because I’m all too aware of how much it bugs her.
Getting her dressed this way, on the other hand, was multi-purpose. It got her even more off balanced, but it also served to make her think we were going to do something at Comicon that would be innocent. We should blend in here. But right now? We very much don’t and at least one of us is all too happy with that.
“Because, if you really think about it? I actively knew there would be cameras and photographers at a comicon. But did I really, actively, know they would want take our picture? Not really.” There’s not even an effort to be humble about the smile on my face. Humble is for suckers. Another tug brings Cassie along, through the air, towards the podium. “At least not until I saw you fidget with the top on that suit…”
“But. Really. What else would I expect when my father booked a press conference to show off his new Superman?”
With a little quirk of the left eyebrow, I’m giving her what the reporters will later compare to the look Superman gave when trying to be encouraging, in the face of adversity. Cassie will know it differently though. This is the face I usually make just before suggesting we do something naughty in the restroom at School. Her school. But with a shrug, I take that final move towards the microphones.
Cape billowing for me. Blonde curls swirling for her. Uncharacteristically though, I’m not seizing the spotlight. I’m sharing it, even as I tap the mic nearest to insure it’s on before speaking. “Um. Hi. I’m the new Superman and this? I’ll let her introduce herself.”
This is the moment the Cassie has waited all of her life for. She just didn’t know it. Actually, come to think of it now. It’s also probably the moment I’m going to remember most for the look upon my girlfriend’s face.
Cassie : There’s a fairly predictable reaction that would normally come about when he makes a comment like that. Saved for those moments of smart-assery when I don’t truly have any good response to make, because he’s turned what I said back on me. It’d be double swift in delivery for the smirk he’s aiming at me. Normally? Right now I would have punched him in the shoulder, with a fair amount of oomph in the delivery, in the way I can’t exactly ‘jokingly’ punch anyone because I’d send them through a wall or break their shoulder into pulverized bone bits.
Except we’re on stage. In front of like, a billion people and cameras and I probably shouldn’t start this…whateverthisis… by punching my boyfriend. Not that they know he’s my boyfriend. Hmmmmmmm…
“You’re so full of crap.”
Hissed between my teeth at him, and it’s only all those great acting skills I’ve honed over the last year that keeps the expression of displeasure being very, very obvious. It’s not perfect though, I think the best I’m really managing beyond that is just looking startled. Which I am. We’ll pretend it’s all the cameras and flashing lights though, more than I would have expected for a comic book convention. Conner not thinking people want his picture on a normal day? I wouldn’t believe that. Thinking they wouldn’t want it when he’s dressed up? Bologna. But the part about Luthor and the press conference? Double bologna. With a side of mild concern. If it’s actually true that he’s wanting to show Conner off? Something’s happening. Or happened.
He’s put me on the spot, in more ways than one. I may have talked about him using his powers for good but this? Is not a moment I anticipated us having for a few years at the very least. What do I even call myself? For a moment, there’s a petty want to introduce myself as myself, just to get back at his father and all the questions that would raise. But it wouldn’t just be his parental figure that’d come into the crosshairs, and mine doesn’t have an army of lawyers and PR people.
So what do I call myself? His is so easy it’s practically cheating. He’s got the symbol, and a name to go with it. I can’t also be Super something, then I’m just the other half of his coin and I can come up with something better. I hope. So who am I? Cassie. High school student. Daughter. Demi-goddess, and apparent eighth born wonder of the modern world. Wonder. Wonder Girl.
No. No. Superman and Wonder Girl? I’d sound like his sidekick. His subordinate. And if we’re really starting this? Boy, we are not starting it that way. Maybe it’s my general grumpiness that lends the oomph and certainty to my voice when I step forward to the microphone.
“You can call me Wonder Woman.”
Conner : With Cassie at the microphone and my cape swishing behind me, almost offering some form of cover? I give her a super-speed pinch of the butt when she finally belts out her proclamation. It isn’t that I knew what she’d pick, but I did know what she wouldn’t go with. She’s called my Super Boy more than once. Even her Superboy. But we both know my Father didn’t have me created to be Superboy. I’m meant to be something more. Superman, but his Superman. Controlled. Used for the explicit purpose of showing the world that meta-humans are best served when controlled. Wielded like any other weapon. With her though? She could have gone with anything. Any number of homages to the Gods, to her Father. Something for her Mom even.
After another round of flash bulbs, digital flickers and the chorus of questions that are sent our way all at once? I settle on one of them. Raising a hand to call for some semblance of silence, in order for us to even be able to give an answer. Superman? You look sixteen. Why are we just seeing you now? Where are you from? Where is the president? Are you forming a new Justice League?
“We’ve been training,” that’s the one I offer to the press. “Learning. How to use our powers responsibly. We needed to learn how to use our abilities. Before we could help you Folks, we had to learn how to help ourselves.”
So now you think you’re ready? What’s next? Are you forming a new Justice League?
“No. We’re not forming a new League. We aren’t here to replace Heroes of the past. We’re want to pay homage to those who paved the way, but we want to show the world that we can be heroes all on our own too. How can we fail, with Wonder Womanleading the new generation of titans to defense America and the world.”
With that? I’ve sealed both her fate and mine. Because for every eye that turns her way. Every single person who gravitates toward the person that Superman said is going to lead the new generation. Well. The truth is? I’m one more step in to the dog house that is to be my life for a while. Maybe that’s why I take a step back. Maybe that’s why I slowly slip in to flight and hover behind her. Giving the cameras a show of a POTUS proclaimed Superman behind a self-proclaimed Wonder Woman. This validates what I’ve said. Posing her as the leader, that I’ve suggested that she is. It shows difference. Alternatively I’m getting a headstart for when she decides it is time to punch me.
Probably a lot more the latter than the former.
Cassie : Conner’s in trouble. Big trouble. Trouble to the level I don’t think he even fathoms right now, or he would probably have skipped the handsy moment. …nah even he wouldn’t have, but still. I’m attempting to put on a good face or I’d be seething right now. I know about the group his father’s spearheading, where he was created and why. It’s nothing that I’ve wanted to be a part of and that played into me agreeing to lay low. Not a hard bargain to make, because the truth is this is all new to me, and it wasn’t something I was ready to show off to the world. I think I’d have to understand what I am far better than I do right now before I’d have even considered it. And even then? It wasn’t going to be this public. I haven’t even done anything to earn this level of attention.
But I can clearly fly, and I came her in a spangly outfit with the new Man of Steel. Would they take us so seriously if they knew we were just a pair of superpowered teenagers playing dressup? Because that’s what I thought we were when we showed up today. At least most of what he’s saying is true, or true enough. We have been training, usually up in the woods in Canada where no one was going to see us. One of us is responsible, and no we’re definitely not forming a Justice League. We have to graduate high school.
Wait. With Wonder Woman doing what? What am I doing? Other than once again being abandoned to the spotlight while he backs off in completely uncharacteristic fashion. So. In trouble. Well. Like so many times in the last year, I find myself with the option to look like a very public idiot, or to play the part Conner’s angled me into taking for one reason or another. This one just comes with a lot more rapid fire shouted questions. Where I’ve come from, where I’ve been up until now. What do I have to say about a superpowered arms race? I came here today expecting to have to make up an answer about where I got my costume, not any of this.
“While our sincere hope is, of course, that you do not need us… we will be here if you ever do.”
That sounds lame, and stiff, and not at all like me but I don’t really feel like telling them how I’m an actual, honest to goodness demi-goddess and how I still haven’t graduated high school and that I barely know what i’m doing. Yup. I’m going to be leading the folks that save the world, too. Apparently. He’s so dead. I’m not the trained PR showpony that Conner is, and so left in the forefront? I don’t stay there. Clearly thinking I’ve said enough, I join him in the air. Only I don’t stop, I keep going upwards.
This? Is probably the highlight of the day. Doing one of my very favorite things, and not having to hide doing it. Up, and out, over the crowd and away. It’s not anywhere near the fastest I’ve gone up to this point, but it’s certainly fast enough to leave a wake.
Conner : There isn’t a single thing about this that I regret. Except maybe the part where I let this all go without taking the time to oogle her in that costume before she tries to say she’ll never wear it again. Except, that I’ve already got her in checkmate on that angle. What’s more is that I didn’t even do that myself. She did. With that little promise she just made to. Well. Everyone. Anyone. Who sees the news or reads a paper or looks at the internet.
Her exit is actually pretty dignified. I was half expecting her to knock me in to the middle of next week. But what actually happens. The way she glides in to the air, then makes a display of her power, while doing what is always best (leaving the press wanting more, not less). It’s perfect. How long has she waited and wanted to do that? Without fear of being caught flying? Much less doing it in public, in costume, with cameras everywhere. The crowd we had just from a POTUS announcement probably dwarfs what has grown before us by the time she does that.
Leaving me in the odd position that I’m not used too. Holding the proverbial bag, so to speak. With a shrug to the crowd, ever the theatrics, I give them the moment that I know they’re waiting for. “Up up and away? Heh.”
The whoosh of air from my following her out is slightly slower, if only because I want to measure the sound of reaction. Is it applause or just a chorus of questions? In fact I’m much more curious if the reaction -I- wanted comes about. Namely the positioning of Cassie as a public icon. Irreversibly tied to the President’s home grown Superman. People at the comicon were wanting to know her name, but the people I wanted to one-up already did. And now she’s front and center. Positioned as one, if not -the-, leader of the next generation.
Whatever Cassie thinks. As dead as she might think she’s going to make me? I’ve all but assured that N.O.W.H.E.R.E. doesn’t make her disappear. They literally can’t now. Doing so would be the same as attacking Luthor himself. At least for now. So long as we actually keep Cassie’s promise.
Once I catch up to her there’s really only one thing for me to say in a situation like this when I know she’s ready to punch my face. “Is this a bad time to mention that I love your ass in that costume? And eh… that I told your mom to tune in to the news for the Press Conference?”
Cassie: I want to knock him into next week. I really do. But experience has taught me that he’s quicker than I am, unless I get the jump on him, and so I probably wouldn’t have connected unless he let me. And someone letting you punch them isn’t exactly satisfying. Plus we have an audience, and starting a superbrawl in the middle of a press conference probably isn’t the sort of tone we want to set for the future. A future that apparently is going to have me stuck in the forefront as the one to look to. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
Am I even going to be able to manage this and not get cornered into folding under NOWHERE’s umbrella of influence? If I wanted to be extra grouchy I’d ask what was the point of the last year, if this is just where I was going to end up? But the truth is, while I’m furious with Conner for setting me up like this right now, I do still love the dumb jerk. He isn’t something I would have wanted to miss out on. I’m just going to casually set that aside in a corner of my brain right now. And try very hard to not want to read the news that’s probably already exploding onto the internet about who just showed up at Comicon.
I don’t know why I don’t simply rocket the hell out of there and away to…God. I don’t know. Khandaq? I guess it boils down to me enjoying the flight, the rush and feel of the air in my face for the first time ever without being concerned about who can see me, and who shouldn’t be seeing me. I guess right now they’re meant to. It makes me easy to catch up to, since I’m not bolting.
“Mmmyup.”
Normally a girl would probably like to hear that sort of thing, especially if they’re already a little self-conscious about how they look in a ridiculous getup like this. My trajectory slows a bit as I rotate so that I’m more facing him, because while I might have grunted off his compliment right now, the latter earns him the full brunt of the scowl that’s been percolating for the last ten minutes.
“You had better be about to follow up that statement with ‘and I talked to her about the bomb I was gonna be dropping before I dropped it,’ Conner Luthor.”
Conner : “What do I look like, a total asshole?”
Of course there’s a half-smirk that says I know precisely what she’s thinking about that right now. Whether or not that she answers. I’ve done something there is no going back from. Not to mention that she’s been working hard, very hard in fact, to keep everything under the radar. We’ve had this ‘pseudo-fight’ so many times I can practically have it in my own brain right now with unerring accuracy over every point that she would make. If she weren’t so angry that she wants to punch my lights out.
“Of course I told her, Cassie. Gods Almighty, it’s not like I haven’t learned anything from you. While you were in getting dressed, I shot over to the Museum and told her all about it. How you’ve been wanting me to ‘Help’ the world. How you think it’s my duty to use my gifts. How you want me to subvert my Father’s plans for N.O.W.H.E.R.E. and how you’ve been maneuvering me in to being the Man of Tomorrow, by stringing me along. While you fret over every little nuisance of your powers. How you hate not being able to fly sometimes. You know, because you’re managing me in to being something other than a ticking time bomb. While also living vicariously through me, because you’re afraid to be the one who does all those things you want me to do.”
“She muttered something that sounded a lot like it being ‘about time,’ and told me to watch for your left hook.” Wisking up close to her, ever defiant in the face of anyone’s fury, but especially Cassie’s. She’s positively intoxicating when she’s angry. Well that or I’m minimizing the potential for lightning impact. “Oh. And she kind of liked sticking it to my Dad.”
“But you’re probably in for a sound talking to when you get home. Mom had no idea you wanted to come out to the world. She also didn’t know you were struggling so much with hiding everything. Or that you were holding back to protect her.”
“Oh and she said something about how she thought you were smart enough to realize she’s used to taking care of herself. Since she handled your Father well enough.”
“Actually. Come to think of it. You might be grounded. So we should enjoy the flight while you have a chance…”
Cassie : He’s smirking at the same time that my mouth is making a similar, but opposite, move. Pulled in and turned down at the corner because yup, he does look like a total asshole right now. I ought to at least be more used to it, or maybe a little more expecting of moments like this, because he’s really damn good at doing something infuriating and at the same time passing it off as ‘no, really! I was being a good guy this time. I promise.’ Maybe when I get over feeling as if I had the rug yanked out from under me I’ll simmer down, but it was him that stressed having to do as much as I could to fit in. To make the whole him and me thing work. The cheerleading. The ‘friend’ making.
I’m also not sure if I am more or less mad because of the timing of his speaking to my mother about this whole debacle. Was it while I was getting dressed because it only then occurred to him that she might need some warning? Or was it just the convenient timing he chose because I would be too occupied shimmying into this ridiculous thing to notice that they were plotting?
“I didn’t say any of that! Oh my God! I didn’t want to come out to anyone, let alone everyone!”
The problem with shoving someone when you’re flying is that physics, no matter how much we might defy them otherwise, has a way of making it less impactful. I just end up drifting a little more backwards until our paths bring us back in close all over again. The upside, I suppose, is that I don’t need my arms to propel me forwards so I can just fold them tightly across my chest instead.
“And yeah, sure she can take care of herself. Until everyone we piss off, and you piss off a lot of people, comes after her. It’s not the same thing!”
There’s a great deal of grumbling, muttering and ineffectual huffing going on because I don’t know what else to do. Not only has Conner managed to corner me into some premature superheroing, but he also got me in trouble by putting words in my mouth. So maybe one or two of those things are true or half true, namely the flying part, but those are things I can live without for now. I mean. The operating suspicion is that I’m going to have a very, very long time to make up for whatever limits might be imposed on me right now.
“She voted for the other guy. This kind of feels more like playing along than sticking it to, Conner. I’m not ready for this. Unless it’s going to be all kittens in trees and old ladies wanting to cross the road.”
Conner : “You said all of that. In the same way you say things like, ‘We can’t go to Gotham, because reasons! Or ‘Look at my boobs, instead of eye-lasering the jerk who’s trying to flirt with me.’ Don’t forget the, ‘You shouldn’t abuse your father’s money Conner, let’s stay in the rattiest motel ever because I don’t want to even compare myself to the rich twits at school! You do nothing but say things without speaking. So don’t get mad at me when I start listening.”
Shots fired. Her arms are crossed, but actually so are mine. Just a slightly different way. Infuriatingly enough, I’m adopting a very familiar and judgmental Superman pose. I might be wrong, even totally wrong, about what she wanted. But I’m not wrong about -this-. She does this all the time and I’m not going to let her actually be mad at me for trying to read between the lines. Not when she told me that she was teaching me to be better. _This_ is what she’s taught me.
“Playing along, ugh. What happened to the Goddess Brain thing? You’re Wonder Woman now, Cass! You’re bound to his Superman. Unveiled at his press conference for me. If you disappear now? It’ll be seen as him either being too weak to control you or breaking his own promise. Since you spoke for him back there. The only thing he can do right now is back you. Try to control you, sure. You won’t disappear now. You have a seat at the table and you’ve got a chance make it mean something.”
“You weren’t ready for me either that first time we met, on the roof. You handled me fine. Besides what can go wrong? I’ll be right beside you.” There’s a small pause there, more for effect than necessity. Another smile. Just as cocky as all the rest, but warmer. “Also. For the record. I’m a sociopath and I can see that if you keep trying to live your life protecting your Mom? She’s going to push you out of the nest that much harder. For a girl who brags about how smart she is? You’re not too bright about reading her signals. She told you to pick a school, you’ve drug your feet. She made you move to Metropolis, took a desk job… and now she’s suddenly going on a dig she won’t take you on?”
“Your Mom slept with a God, the God of Gods, babe. Do you think Daddy Wardrums picked her because she’s a helpless hot blonde milf who can’t take care of herself? Actually. You know what, I take it back. I’m not sorry for reading between the lines wrong. You suck at teaching me how too. Suck.”
“Also. Just for the record. I’m totally winning this argument. Which is actually not good for me. So can we get to the part where you say I’m wrong, because I’m a big dumb jerk and storm off. If I keep winning, we’re probably never having make up sex and then I wore the fancy cape for nothing.”
Cassie : “Oh please you love it when people flirt with me because I hate it. And I’ll be mad if I want to because you’re choosing when it’s convenient and useful to listen!”
This would all be because I won’t let him invade Gotham City, wouldn’t it? Tim owed me big time already, he might owe me even worse now but I suppose there’s no way to even attempt to collect on that for the time being. I guess I could text him, but then he’ll just hole up in that place forever. Conner has taken things that I’ve said, or done, and taken them a bit to the extreme with a side of mixing them together. And none of those motels were ratty. Even I have some standards. Just. Maybe ratty if you’re used to penthouses.
“I thought I wasn’t going to anyway. I didn’t think we were going to have to worry about any of this for a while yet. My powers didn’t come with a manual, or even a quick start guide and I’m still figuring them out.”
Though, really, if we’re being completely honest me with the training wheels on is still more than sufficient in most cases for some hero work. I can already more than bench a tank, and we’re figuring out that I’m getting faster to go along with the flight and other things. I don’t really have anyone to compare myself to, other than him and he’s had nothing but training his whole life.
If it were possible to stomp one’s foot midair without looking like an idiot? I’d probably be unable to stop myself from doing it right now. Fortunately I show at least a little restraint and just keep flying. And haranguing.
“Ugh! You guys can’t have it both ways! Low profile and fit in Cassie, now tada! Superhero! No, you can’t finish school early Cassie, but GTFO!”
I’ve gone from making the highly displeased face at him, back to just scowling with an entirely stubborn set to my jaw. No, I’m not just going to say he’s right, though he’s maybe a little bit right about some things, but not about the entire issue at hand. And now I can’t say he’s wrong and storm off which is what I’d actually like to do. So I settle for something else, sniffing loudly and twisting around in the air once more into a more ‘normal’ flight position.
“Not for nothing. Kittens and a car wreck at four o’clock. Dibs on the wreck.”
It’s not storming off if you’re plummeting at high velocity out of the sky to save someone’s life. Page four of the Wondergirl guide to superheroics.
Conner : “That’s a terrible example. No. Really, I’m serious. You can’t finish school early, because you’re wanting to do it just to tag along with your Mother. Who wants you to be your own person in the first place.” There is part of me that thinks she’s losing this argument on purpose, just so she gets to punish me more by refusing to make up for longer, later. “And. The other example sucks too. You’re supposed to keep a low profile. As Cassie. Wonder Woman gets to have a high, nice looking, profile.”
Oh. Now I’m starting to be sure of this. Sinking feeling alert. She never argues this poorly. Something is amiss. Quick, review the argument and discussion up to this point. Look for potholes, footfalls and classic feints. When sure of those being non-existent, check to see if Cassie has been replaced by a White Martian. Hrm, nope. This is not how I imagined this would go.
“Uh. So. You’re still figuring them out. Are we talking about the ones you have or the ones you don’t know if you have? Because I mean you’ve been pretending to be a normal girl for the last two years. A normal cheerleader, who happens not to throw the class bully in to the rafters. A normal girl who doesn’t somehow land too hard when she’s thrown in to the air for a triple. And uh. What part of control am I missing out on you having, when you’re somehow not throwing snowballs through entire houses because you can lift a mack truck?”
“Oh and for the record. Can’t have it both ways? Hellooooooooo. I was happy to be Conner. You were pushing me to be a Hero. That’s both ways. Now I want us to have it both ways together and you’re mad? That’s actually not just a bad argument, it’s not even fair! … and would you STOP RUNNING AWAY, I want to re-check to be sure you’ve not been replaced by a shape-shifting alien…”
Ugh. She’s doing the thing. Where she storms off. Except not. Because she’s manufacturing a crisis. Right now. With how poorly she’s battling me verbally? I’m not even sure she didn’t cause both crisises, just to avoid this discussion.
“Fine. I’ll save the Cat. But that just means I’ll be home to talk to your Mom before you can.” Up up and away, my ass…