2013.04.28 - Bowties and Beers

Having a hell of a buzz from the crappy 21st century alcohol, and not wanting to do -anything- in the crappy residence that Rokk called a clubhouse, but which was more like a dingy run-down slum, the future hero known as Lightning Lad was out on a joycruise through the city that Superman called home in this century.
Being what he was, of course, it was a hell of a lot more fun to just cruise around floating through the air on his back, watching the sky and the clouds and the sun and...
"Grife, the pollution in this century is -awful-. You'd -have- to be Superman to survive all this pollution here," Garth mumbles, wrinkling his nose.
"I suppose it's a good thing that I am," Superman says as he pulls up alongside Garth just a short time later. "I should also add that if you think the air quality here is poor, you're lucky you weren't alive in the 1970s." After a beat, he adds, "Due to the actions of the environmentalists, municipalities began to require emission tests for vehicles which had a great effect on cleaning up the mess of the age of industrialization."
Superman smiles, "How are you?"
Coming to a stop, and jerking himself up into a upright position in mid-air, Lightning Lad's eyes widen. The lightning scar on the right side of his face sparks just a bit as Garth's first reaction was to nearly spark the hell out of whoever startled him. It fades, followed by a loud boisterious laugh, as Lightning Lad throws his arms around Superman.
"CLARKIE!" Garth exclaims boisteriously. "Man, good to see you, it's been a while! You wouldn't believe the time I've had. You seen Rokk yet? He's gotten so -damn- old! And Imra... Imra's got -blue eyes- now... man, I tell you, the future..."
His excitement fades just a bit as he suddenly realizes he might be hugging a not-very-receptive Man of Steel. "... Uh... long story?"
Superman chuckles and shakes his head. "First things first, we need to ixnay on the Arkieclay. It's kind of a hush-hush sort of thing if you catch my drift." His spitcurl bounces a bit as he shakes his head, "I haven't run into Rokk, no, but I'm looking forward to it. And by old, do you mean he's getting physically old or just crotchety? It's been so long since I've seen you guys. What have you been up to? And how is Imra other than the eyes?"
"Uh, yeah," Garth looks rather abashed, which probably shouldn't surprise Superman terribly, as the Winathian had always been the hot-tempered one, the one who was far more emotional and impulsive. The ID to Rokk's super-ego and Imra's ego. "It's a really long story, just that we're uh, doing mirror universes and time travel at the same time, so we've got a bunch of Legionnaires from anywhen in anyverse. So we've got an -old- Rokk, and a blue-eyed Imra with a tail for hair, and..."
Throwing his hands up, Garth looks sheepish. "I mean, Rokk's like... like, -sixty-, from the way he looks. He's all grumpy too, but don't mind him, he's still mostly Rokk. We've been holed up somewhere in, uh... some old building. You look kinda old too, like you're Rokk's age now. But man... you're still -Superman-, are you? How's... uh..." Garth waves a hand. "That woman?"
"That's crazy," Superman says with a wide grin. "When I met Rokk we were both pretty young." He tilts his head, curious, "Holed up where? I mean, are you allowed to tell me?" Superman exhales and shakes his head slowly as if not really understanding. "That woman?" The head continues to shake, "I'm afraid I'm not really sure who you're talking about. My mom? She's good. I think I was dating a girl named Lana when I ran into you guys last time." He nods a bit too, "Oh, yeah, I'm going by Superman, but it's not a name I gave myself. I finally listened to you guys. And you were right."
Laughing, clasping Superman's shoulders all too familiarly, Garth shakes his head. "Ahh... I wasn't thinking of Lana or your mom... speaking of which, can I get some more of her pie? Those were -great-... oh wait, right. Anyway, that woman... Some brunette or the other, another one of those LL people you keep running into. What -is- it with you and those double-L's, anyway?"
Tilting his head, Garth shrugs. "So, uh, you wanted me to show you where we're holed up? Rokk thinks we're not getting back to the future without a lot of things going right, so we're gonna be hanging out here for a while. It's been a bit of a long time since I've been here... what is it, about a thousand years?" Flashing a wide grin, Garth motions towards where Suicide Slum is. "That's where, we could use a bit of a picker-upper."
Superman tries to follow Garth's words, "You don't mean Lois, do you? There's a lady I work with at the Daily Planet named Lois Lane. I don't know how you'd know about her though." The thought of pie distracts Kal, "You can come by anytime you want, I know my mom would love the company. And, if I'm not mistaken, she's got four strawberry rhubarb pies in the freezer, saved from last year. We could eat some of that while she makes something fresh." Superman's been so down recently after Zod's arrival, meeting old friends is like a breath of fresh air. "Suicide Slum?" His mouth twists. "I don't know if you guys would want to use any of the technology from the Fortress, or if you have your own, but I'd be happy to help outfit the interior if you need it."
"Hey, Cl... Supes, c'mon. Future, right? Uh... right, not supposed to tell you too much about the future." Jerking a thumb towards the hideout, the young man flashes a wide grin. "C'mon. I know Rokk's told me to be careful about telling you too much, so I'd be better off letting him do all the talking. Place stinks like hell, and... well, we'll figure out something. There's like... I dunno, five? Ten? of us here. For grife's sake, everyone's trying to sprokkin' sort out what we're gonna be doing here, but in the meantime, you've got a whole buncha house guests for a while." He tilts his head. "Plus, I think, Rokk's got a better handle on everything we need to do. He's out, though, workin' on something, but you can check out the place. It's just, well... a mess. No sonic showers, no replicators... so we've got to do something to -earn- creds here."
Flashing a wide grin, Garth asks, "So know anything for a Winathian farmboy-athlete?"
"Not to tell me too much?" Superman hrms quizzically, not really sure what it all means. "I know he was rather cagey back when I was kid. But he let on to me a lot of stuff that came true. He, at least if that was that version of him, and the rest of the group, had more faith in me than I had in myself during those days." Superman nods, "I'd love to see the place if you think it'd be okay. As far as money, well I can't promise much, but with the planting season coming up, I'm sure my dad might be willing to use some extra farmhands. We could probably get the work done in an hour or so. And my dad, he's not really as young as he used to be."
"Oh good, as long as we get more of that pies," Garth says. Flexing his prosthetic metal arm, the young man cracks a grin. "I think we're supposed to not alter the timeline, or timelines, or something, but we're here, we're probably already changing things just breathing, so I dunno. I leave the deep thinking to Imra and Cos and Brainy anyway. I figure it'll be okay... if not, Rokk'll fix it anyway. That's just the way it goes, anyway. C'mon!"
And without much preamble, Garth flies, making a beesline for Suicide Slum.
Which, of course, was probably not the best idea, because having a -Superman- in tow was bound to draw attention, especially in an area -like that-.
Superman is thinking the same thing, and so he does a quick detour, appearing from around the corner, just as Garth makes his landing. He's now dressed as the mild mannered reporter Clark Kent, complete with crumpled suit and a tie. "Figured I'd change into something a bit more comfortable. How far away are we?"
"Uh... yeah," Garth says, eyerolling a bit, as he scratches his goatee. "I suppose I should find something else to wear... grife, I haven't -got- anything. Should get Brainy to get those disguises before... usually we'd count on Imra, but... well things are a bit different. Uh, got anything I can change in---"
Suddenly, thanks to a burst of super-speed, Garth finds himself clad in...
"A SWEATER VEST? YOU PUT ME IN A SWEATER-VEST?"
Tugging on this thing around his neck, Garth glowers. "And what is -this-...?" he says, motioning at the bow tie.
Son of a bitch... did Clarkie just dress him up like -JIMMY OLSEN-?
Serious, uptight, _CLARK KENT_?
Garth briefly considers whether it was worth zapping him for seriously making him dress up like a -nerd-, or just congratulate him on actually -loosening up-.
Finally cracking an unwittingly smile, Garth settles on clasping Clark on the shoulder. "Good to know you didn't grow up to be another Rokk, at least. Okay, come on..."
Clark follows along, smiling. "Well, I had some stuff left over from when I first moved here. I think sweater vests look nice. Now-" His smile grows wider, "The bowtie was a personal touch."
"I can't wait to see Rokk, really. It'll be good to see how he's changed." After looking around the area, his smile faltered, "Gotta say I'm intrigued by his choice of neighborhoods."
"Believe me, so am I. This place doesn't look anything like what it will in..." Garth begins, adjusting the bowtie to be a bit looser around the neck as he walks towards the Suicide Slum building, squared away in a relatively condemned area. For whatever reason, outside the door, it's labelled 'SUPER-HEROES CLUB' in Rokk's handwriting. Ever the optimist, Cos was. Then again, the Legion was always about -hope- for the Universe, at least. It wasn't -terribly- surprising to know that in the future, there'd be posters of Rokk Krinn in red/blue colors with 'Hope', now, would it?
"Just don't die on me from a sprockin' heart-attack when you see this, okay?" Garth adds, as he opens the door, letting them into a relatively dingy dungy building complex, sparsely stocked with a tv, fridges, and lots of recyclables.
Looked like the Legionnaires had discovered PIZZA and BEER.
As they enter, Clark runs his hand along the wall of the rundown living space. Each part of the city has its own looks, but they also have distinct smells. This area smells like a place forgotten in the post-urbanization decay. The place that Metropolis forgot.
"Well, I hope it'd take a bit more than that to take me down. I'm not sure what to expect." In order to save the surprise for himself, he doesn't bother using any of his vision skills. Once they turn the corner, his eyebrows raise and his mouth begins to smile slowly, "It reminds me of fraternity houses in Lawrence. Kansas, I mean. At the University."
"Oh, fraternities weren't like this where I'm from, Clarkie... I can call you Clarkie like this, right? Fraternities were -wilder- than this," Garth says, a wide grin in his face as he crosses over to the kitchen, where he pulls open that storage box that kept food and drinks cold... man, replicators were -better-.
Pulling out a couple of bottles of beer, Garth shakes one furiously before tossing it to Clark, and opens the other one with a crackle from his finger that causes the metal to expand a bit before popping off.
Taking a swig, Garth comments, "So, just to be sure I'm not messin' up future crap, what have you been up to, Clarkie?"
Clark chuckles, "I've been called worse. Today." He snaps the cap from the bottle and flips the small piece of metal in the air. It spins on its axis, bounces off the brick wall and lands in the wastebasket. "Yeah, you can call me Clarkie in here."
He loosens his tie and takes a swig from the bottle as he considers, "Well, we just started a group that we're calling the Justice League of America. We had a visit from General Zod, one from a different dimension. Other than that, just working at the planet. Tell me about you."
Disgrunted at the lack of explosive beer (How'd he do it, super-freeze it with his breath, then super-friction-melt it? Son of a...), Garth eyes the trash can as though it'd -betrayed- him. It's forgotten quickly, as the subject shifts from Clark to Garth, and the Winathian is all too pleased to talk about it. "Oh you're gonna love this, there was a -galaxy- menacing threat, and they called you and a whole bunch of Legionnaires from all over to fight Imperix and... heyyyy wait a minute, what's this about the Justice League -of America-?"
"Well," Clark says, "It's a group of likeminded superheroes working to make the world a safer place. It's kind of like the Legion, I suppose, only different." He looks over, slightly perplexed, "Why? Something wrong with America? You're starting to sound like a communist." He chuckles-it's obviously a joke.
"Oh c'mon, Clarkie, nothing's wrong with that, it's just, you know... United Earth, and... uh, so you're covering all of NoAm?" Garth says, swigging his beer. "I'm not even sure what a communist is, but whatever, that's probably so last millennium."
Draining the bottle, Garth plops it down on the crate that serves as a little table, alongside the other litter. "Glad to see you're still doin' the good fight. I remember some tough times, but you came out all the better for it. And hey, if things get rough and you need a break, just call us, right? It does get better."
"Well, a communist is a. . ." Clark stops abruptly and waves his hand, "You know what? Forget it. From our charter, we're basically an American organization, but I don't think any of our members would hesitate to help anyone anywhere. It's just a name, really." He nods to Garth, looking a bit forlorn, "Yeah, things have been pretty rough with the Zod thing. I'm just glad we were able to defeat him." Clark changes the subject, "So, you guys are stuck here? How'd you get here? What sort of things do you need to get back? Maybe I can help."
"Yeah, see, the sooner you forget about all those names and just get down to business, it's less confusing, right?" Garth notes, as he heads back to the fridge to get another beer. And a jar of peanut butter, which apparently had "GARTH'S!" scribbled all over it by Rokk.
Dipping his fingers into the peanut butter and munching, Garth notes, "I dunno, just some sort of temporal storm or the other. I think Rokk's got a theory on why we're all from different times and different 'verses, but you'd have to ask him, this stuff makes my head hurt. We need Brainy to poke at this stuff, but haven't seen him yet. You seen anyone else? Everyone seems to be converging here because of..." Holding up his hand, Garth shows off the (L*) ring on his finger. "Probably that's what's connecting all of us."
"Odd. I still have mine back in Smallville in my old room. I haven't looked at it in far too long." Superman nods at the ability of multiple time periods and multiple dimensions have an adverse effect on people's sanity. He finishes his beer and sets off to the side, amongst about a bazillion others. "I haven't seen anyone else, to be honest. You're the first. How long have you all been here? I'm a bit sad that I haven't seen anyone else yet."
"Well, get your ring out of storage if you wanna hear what's going on, man, we're still finding new Legionnaires every day, from what Rokk said. Sprock, we -still- haven't found Brainy yet, but knowing that we've got trouble, he'll probably show up one day and tell us we're all nasses for not knowing how to fix this..."
Abruptly, Garth screws the peanut butter cap back on and sticks it in the fridge. "You know what? We're not gonna let Brainy and his 12th-level intellegience fix this. Us with our sixth and... uh... whatever mine was supposed to be... we'll just rub it in his face. So we're going to the, uh... are we going to the Fortress of soltitude that's in your mama's backyard, or the one that's surrounded by ice?"
"It's the one at the north pole," Clark says, unsure of what he means by the backyard. Maybe it's some of that future stuff. "I think it'd be fun to get everyone up there and have a get together. I mean, as long as you guys are here you might as well feel welcome and at home, right?"
"Hey yeah, we can tell stories about stuff, only Rokk'd probably be a nasshead and just tell only safe boring stories that -everyone- knows because we're not supposed to be messing with timelines, so he'll probably talk about, I dunno, magno-ball or whatever," Garth sighs. rubbing his chin. "How about we take a look, see what we can do about makin' the place up for a party, and go from there? I've seen too much of Metropolis. It's kind of like... well, looking around at museums. Let's go see this Fortress of yours... I bet it looked a lot cooler -before- they turned it into a tourist trap..."
Clark nods slowly, but looks a bit confused. "Tourist trap?" Even so he's reaching up to undo his tie. He undoes his shirt, revealing the famous 'S' (it's not an 'S') and moves for the doorway, "You remember the way? Or you want to meet straight up and I can lead you there?"
"Oh c'mon, it's easy. Just head north, then follow that giant honkin' key to get in, right?" Garth replies, grinning. "Just hope you've programmed the robots to recognize me in this time era, or something."
Watching Superman change, Garth makes it simpler, as he just -zaps- off all his clothes with a burst of electricity. "I'll meet you there. Got to let Rokk know Clarkie's on board."
 
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