hang on to the glory at my right hand

[proxysearch]

Who: Any and all new arrivals, NPCs, and anyone interested in greeting them!
When: All week. (May 2 - May 8)
Where: The baseball diamond, the Tower Apartments, and anywhere in between.
Summary: The Core is finally starting to bring new people in. Here's the chance for some initial meet and greet interactions.
Warnings: Will be updated as needed.

Comments

[kingofrooks]

[ The last hour. Of course; that post on the network - he's seen it, but refrained on making a comment until later. He wants to meet him first: to see what's different, what's the same- he has the powers, it seems, but not as much the control. None of his years of experience. It makes him less of an asset. Less volatile.

He also doesn't know who Bruce is.

(And there's part of him that think this is good; that it fits into his plans. Because he needs to be alone here - to fight the Joker and the Black Mask, he will have to cast off most, if not all, of his usual ties. Having tnhe both of them at the same time, and on an enclosed island- he despises it. It makes it too easy for them to get to him through people he cares about. ]

I do. You're not exactly hard to read.

[ But it's- difficult to not fall into old habits with Clark. It's Clark. In Dick's words: Goddamn Superman himself.

Except he's not yet, is it? Damnit. ]

Your powers. Do they all work here? [ Pause. ] Don't even bother pretending they don't exist. I've documented every single one.

[isitablurred]

[Close, but not yet. The costume is a step toward that, though now, without a proper outfit to change into, it was actually more of a risk than anything else. Clark Kent did not wear black leather jackets about town.]

Well I can't say I've tried anything else. I didn't want to draw any attention to myself. And if it's true that I'm the only one here from Metropolis, I'm going to end up doing just that.

[Clark seems to pause for a moment, listening to a conversation in the distance, then steps forward, brushing past the other man.]

This way. Someone saw me falling.

[They could both disappear into the darkness of the alleyway, with Clark all in black the way he was. And if Bruce wanted to continue this conversation, he'd just have to follow.]

[kingofrooks]

[ At least the leadership ability - or rather, the tendency to drop orders and expect people to obey - is still there. Caution, too - he's young, and not stupid. Good. Because if he is Bruce is just going to abandon him.

And he actually moves and follows him even though his logic is telling him that he needs to get away from this man. He's not the Clark that Bruce knows; he's not the same man he trusts he back to for years. He knows and understands this.

But. He follows anyway- until they reach a dark alley, tucked between shadows- and it is so strange to see Clark meld into the darkness simply because he's so used to him shining and standing out. Like a beacon of fucking light. ]

Your hearing works. [ He's talking under his breath. ] The x-ray and telescopic visions? Heat vision? Frost breath? [ He cocks his head- he's surprised Clark doesn't just show him this. ]

Flight?

[isitablurred]

[Clark checks them off in his own head, though he's not used to actually doing it. Superspeed. Check. Vision. Check. For a brief moment there's fire in his eyes, it dies out quickly, and then the dark alleyway is filled with dense, cold mist as he exhales. Even if the darkness wasn't there, the mist would dissuade anyone from following them. Naturally Clark doesn't seem to feel the chill at all. But then there's that word:

Flight.

And he glances up into Bruce's bright, gleaming slit eyes.]

I... [Why does everyone always ask about the flying?] --Can't.

[kingofrooks]

[ Can't- one of the greatest and most famed abilities of Superman and he can't do it? He can't fly- no wonder he had fallened like that, when he came down. He can't fly; he can't just suspend his gravity so as to not hit the ground.

... Does it learn it much later in his life, or is this a different Clark entirely? One that's not from Bruce's world; that's not a younger version of the man he trusts?

He cocks his head to the side, and if Clark is trying, you can see him frowning beneath the cowl. ]

What's your control over your gravity?

[isitablurred]

[He's almost there, he'll pick it up in no time. Clark folds his arms, dropping his shoulder against one of the brick walls. The last inches of sun drop away from the buildings above their head. Sirens will go off soon.

Carefully, Clark balances how much to tell him; but if Batman knows all about his powers, all about his future, then he probably knows about Jor-El, too.]

I keep trying. Fallen off enough buildings and made enough untidy landings to proove I'm not ready yet. People don't fly, so neither, apparently, can I--at least until I let go of my humanity.

[kingofrooks]

[ ... He can't fly because he can't let go of his humanity? Is he even ser- of course he is. Clark doesn't joke about things like this- and it seems that this has remained throughout the years. Those lingering doubts and trapping insecurities. That he's not human.

Bruce looks at himself. At his black-gauntleted hands and the scarred skin he knows is underneath. He looks at the black cape that sweeps the ground and he wants to laugh because the very idea of this is insane. Unbelievable.

Clark is more human than he can ever be. ]

If you take having two feet on the ground as proof that you'reh uman, I've given you far too much credit. [ It's said perfectly matter-of-factly. ]

I've seen monsters, and none of them can fly. [ He cocks his head to the side. ] Don't be stupid.

[isitablurred]

[And Clark actually laughs. If it were as easy as not being stupid, he would have been flying years ago.]

I may not have been born under this yellow sun, but I was brought up under it. It's not as easy as you might think to just switch that off, even knowing better.

Jor-El said that it was as simple as cutting my ties. I guess we'll see if that works now I'm here. [Now I'm alone] And even if it doesn't, I can still jump a little further than anything that comes after me.

[The rest of it is unspoken: I can look after myself.]

[kingofrooks]

[ Cutting his- ... well, of course his Kryptonian father will say that. Given what Bruce knows of Kryptonian society (and he knows a lot, being the one human in the world who bothered to learn - and managed to master - the language), the arrogance is par for course. But still, it's almost strange, to see Clark speak of Jor-El like that. With such disrespect.

(I am Kal-El, son of Jor-El and Lara. That's the only time Bruce has heard Clark say his father's name. Is it because of his age- or is it because this is an alternate universe?)

And he smirks a little because- really, Clark always can. It doesn't stop Bruce from looking after him- and he looks at Clark for a long moment. He shouldn't show his cards easier, but.

If he's ever compromised... (And it's possible, Hurt and Desaad showed him that.) His fingers slip to the utility belt. The front compartment. And- in the quickest sleight of hand, he opens it and snaps it close again.

It's not enough to let radiation escape. But enough for Clark to know what's in there. What he has trusted Bruce with. ]

You're still vulnerable. [ It's half a warning, half a threat. ]

[isitablurred]

[He catches it; a flash of green, the unmistakeable sound of lead snapping closed on lead, and though he didn't feel the meteor rock's effect on him, it's clear what is inside that little compartment, and what it means. Clark had been sure none of it was here - at least not with him - but now he knows better.

Of course, there's always that shard of blue kryptonite that he doesn't know about, sitting in a SERO lab somewhere now.

He pulled away from the wall, his grin already gone, expression deathly serious.]

In case I ever need to be stopped, or in case I get in the way?

[He couldn't tell Bruce to get rid of it; he'd already read about the Core turning upside down on everyone a fortnight ago, and it would be a liability to do so. The other man would know that too. But he still wasn't sure of his motives, even if he was certain that his future self must trust him.

In the distance, the Sirens went off.]

[kingofrooks]

[ He notices the Sirens, and he half-turns towards it, senses coming hyper-alert. There's always a part of him that is aware of his surroundings, and when the sun disappears he can feel the miasma that cloak the island thicken. The darkness grows thicker, heavily, almost chokingly so, and if he's not used to Gotham nights he might be afraid.

But right now, it just reminds him of a city that he has not seen in a period of time that he's not even sure of- and those questions. He smiles a little, tips his head back to look at him.

At least he's still cautious enough to have that second option. ]

You gave it to me [ a deliberately wording ] because you have a tendency of getting mind-controlled.

[ He cocks his head to the side. ]

Has it started yet?

[isitablurred]

[And the wry smile slips back, just slightly.]

Even in the future?

[It's almost a rhetorical question. He seems to attract kidnapping, mind control and magic, as though there's a sign on his back that reads 'Yup, me, I'm the target you're thinking of.' Still, he's already listening to the Darkness, even his sharp eyes having trouble cutting through the thickness, the way it decays the walls and crawls seemingly with despair made physical over ever surface, deepening shadows and darkening what spots of light remained. The possibility of seeing stars through it fades with the clarity of the city around him.

And in the distance he can hear shouting, mumbled, terrified conversations of people trapped outside after the Sirens, the concerns of people locking down their buildings, and the first few noises of the monsters seeking out their prey.]

It has.

[His footsteps sound overloud in the narrow alleyway, but Clark pauses a short distance away, turning to look at Bruce. He probably doesn't need to speak, the straightening of his shoulders clearly saying behind you.]

[kingofrooks]

[ Clark's hearing and sight give him advantages, but Bruce has been used to fighting on the level of gods for the better part of a decade. He knows what that signal means, and he knows what is coming- and immediately ducks as something shoots towards him. He's dodging- here one sec, gone the next, and his cape flares outwards, protecting his skin (his armour really) from being hit by... whatever it is.

It's a tongue, he recognizes almost immediately. A long, dripping tongue- poison, given the way it's bubble against the floor. Bruce's lips draw backwards, and he reaches down. One hand against the floor and he flips himself over, into the air, legs curled inward to his chest. He draws out the knife hidden in the sole just in time to land right behind the monster.

Strikes at it with the knife. Deliberately slow, and watches as it barely manages to dodge- and the tongue is heading out again- towards Clark.

Meanwhile, he's shoving the knife into the shoulder of the thing. ]

[isitablurred]

[For the most part, Clark wants to stay back and leave the fighting to Bruce, and there's a simple reason for that: while Batman knows all his abilities, didn't even flinch at the name Jor-El, and is aware of even his weaknesses, Clark doesn't know much about him. But he can see that he's fast, now, dextrous and accurate, intelligent, making split second decisions quickly, and very, very strong, the way he springs so easily over; a lot more bendy and springy with his body than Clark is, half way between dancer and fighter.

At the flash of tongue toward him, Clark's gaze snaps right to it, unmoving from his spot and bursting flame down the length of flesh until it recoils with a painful roar. Furious, the long-tongued Darkness monster rounds on the closest man to it again, flailing its almost useless arms out at its attacker.

In turn, Clark moves closer, so that he might better examine the residue left behind by that tongue. It doesn't look like something he wants to touch, honestly.

But there's something wrong. The warnings about the Darkness had been clear: there's always something out there stronger than you. They might not come across it tonight, but somewhere out there... Knowing his luck, probably something with kryptonite instead of blood. It wouldn't do to get too cocky.]

[kingofrooks]

[ It's flailing is far more slow than what he's used to fighting, and though Bruce knows that his body has weakened from the months-long stint e spent in Desaad's little torture chair, his instincts are still as sharp as ever. He reaches out and grabs it by the throat, flipping the knife over until he has it in a backhanded grip, using the blade and slash against the shoulder.

The thing screams, completely inhuman and not even sentient, charging at him and this time when he stabs it, the knife sinks straight into the throat. He yanks it out at the side, spraying blood and gore and splattering it against the wall. It sways a little, and crashes to the floor.

Bruce lids his eyes, breathes quietly as he flicks the knife, cleaning it of the blood. Then, he bends down and slips the knife right back into the boot.

His mind is already moving, shifting to think of what Clark did. That blast of heat vision... very much controlled, very quick. Is it just the leaps, then? His control over gravity? ]

Don't touch the thing with your bare hands.

[isitablurred]

[Sharp, forceful, and deadly. He has something of a new respect for Batman by the time he's done, and perhaps feels bad for the monster, but Clark is careful of skirting even the poison left on the floor, grimacing.]

Urgh. Wouldn't dream of it.

[Of course his control of his heat vision is very precise, adjustable to different materials, narrowed, directional. It's one of the things he's had to practice the most to ensure it causes no accidental harm to anyone, and he takes its use extremely seriously. He approaches to have a closer look.]

You're used to fighting things like that.