He was a simple man, living in a complicated city.
He was a construction worker, with a wife and two children at home. He liked to think that in a city with so many people leading so many complicated lives, he was able to just do something honest and simple. He worked with his hands and his arms, building the towers of tomorrow. He wouldn't live in them; that wasn't his lot in life. He was merely there to do his job and provide for his family, who loved him dearly.
At the moment, he was in the driver's seat of a crane, atop a partially-finished skyscraper. He felt glad that he wasn't afraid of heights, as all he had to do was lean a bit too far to the left and he'd be falling out of the crane's door and down fifty stories to the ground.
All was peaceful up atop the tower. Metropolis was bathed in warm yellow sunlight, and the air was disturbed only by a breeze so gentle that it was barely noticeable. The man smiled to himself, listening to the low rumble of the crane's engine as it slowly lifted a steel beam. Without warning, the man heard a loud "CRACK" beneath his seat, and the crane seemed to shake a little. As he looked up through the crane's windshield, he saw the world in front of him slowly tilting to the right. With a chill of horror, he realized that the crane's base had cracked. He was slowly, but surely, tilting to the left, towards the empty space between buildings.
He hurriedly scrambled for the right side of the crane's two-seat cockpit, hoping to climb out the other side. The seats were leather, however, and very slippery. Before he could move very far, the crane was already tilting far enough to make him slide downward and out the door. He managed to jump a little, grabbing the rightmost edge of the seat with his fingers. The crane gently stopped tilting, but it was too late. He couldn't stop his sweaty fingers from slipping off the leather, and he fell.
As he passed through the left door, however, he abruptly stopped in mid-air: something had caught the back of his jacket collar. He saw a blur of red and blue out the corner of his eye, and twisted his head up and to the left to see what it was. He saw a young man—no older than seventeen—dressed in jeans, a red t-shirt, and a blue jacket. The boy's hair was black as night, but his eyes shone with a piercing blue determination. His left hand was placed on the side of the crane, and his right hand firmly gripped the man's collar. As the man collected his thoughts, he noticed that the boy was literally floating in the air, as though his own strength was enough to fight back gravity itself.
The man felt his body being lifted upwards, and the crane slowly began to lean back into its original position. The boy hovered towards the building and gently lowered the man to safety back aboard the roof. The man was dumbstruck, and didn't know what to do or say. Before he got the chance, however, the boy's head swiftly turned to the side as he peered over his shoulder at something he'd missed: the steel beam was still falling.
The boy disappeared, replaced by a gust of wind and a blur of blue and red.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Present Panic
Bart sat in the living room silently, with four sets of eyes staring at him. Maybe five—he didn't know what Alfred was doing back in the kitchen.
The group had gotten together so Bart could talk to them about something, but they didn't know what. Actually, Lois and Diana already knew what was going on; Clark and Bruce were the only ones still in the dark.
"Okay, so, um... I'm from the future."
At this point, the group was completely immune to surprises. They didn't even flinch at Bart's declaration. Bart didn't expect that. He looked around the room at everyone, just to double-check and make sure they'd heard him. After several uncomfortable seconds of silence, he continued.
"I was born way in the future, but... well, my speed powers have somethin' to do with time, so... well, I don't really understand it all, but they had to send me back in time to make sure my speed didn't get too powerful and end up... uh... killin' me."
"Who's 'they'?" Lois asked.
"I don't remember," Bart replied. "I was eight when they sent me. I remember this robot guy, and a blonde girl, and... that's all. My Grandma Iris came back from the future with me; I live with her over on the West side of the city."
Clark seemed a little hurt that Bart hadn't been truthful yesterday. "Why didn't you tell us before?"
Bart let his head hang a little. "I'm... I'm sorry... I just... my grandma told me not to get do anything that'd mess up the future for me, otherwise I might not exist anymore."
On this point, Diana was still a little unclear. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"Well, uh... I saw my grandpa at school today," he answered.
At this, Bruce raised his eyebrow with interest. Diana helped to explain. "We met a boy named Barry earlier today. Bart said that he recognized him as his grandfather, Barry Allen."
Clark put his hand to his chin. "Now that I think about it, you guys do look a bit alike..."
"Yeah," Bart said. "And, see, if I do something that messes up the timeline, he might not meet my grandma, and I might not end up being born."
"Hang on," Lois interjected. "Are you getting all your facts about time travel from Back to the Future?"
"That's... that's not the point! I mean... it's true! If I screw things up here, I might get erased from history!"
Bruce shook his head. "No. If that were possible, you'd have done it already. The mere fact that you can still exist in this time means that anything and everything you'll ever do in the present won't stop your future from happening."
The rest of the group spent the next several seconds trying to catch up with Bruce's thoughts. Eventually, they all reached an "ahhh, I get it" moment.
"So..." Bart said, "I don't have to avoid my grandpa?"
Bruce shrugged. "You can go have lunch with him if you want. Though you probably shouldn't call him 'grandpa'."
The group had gotten together so Bart could talk to them about something, but they didn't know what. Actually, Lois and Diana already knew what was going on; Clark and Bruce were the only ones still in the dark.
"Okay, so, um... I'm from the future."
At this point, the group was completely immune to surprises. They didn't even flinch at Bart's declaration. Bart didn't expect that. He looked around the room at everyone, just to double-check and make sure they'd heard him. After several uncomfortable seconds of silence, he continued.
"I was born way in the future, but... well, my speed powers have somethin' to do with time, so... well, I don't really understand it all, but they had to send me back in time to make sure my speed didn't get too powerful and end up... uh... killin' me."
"Who's 'they'?" Lois asked.
"I don't remember," Bart replied. "I was eight when they sent me. I remember this robot guy, and a blonde girl, and... that's all. My Grandma Iris came back from the future with me; I live with her over on the West side of the city."
Clark seemed a little hurt that Bart hadn't been truthful yesterday. "Why didn't you tell us before?"
Bart let his head hang a little. "I'm... I'm sorry... I just... my grandma told me not to get do anything that'd mess up the future for me, otherwise I might not exist anymore."
On this point, Diana was still a little unclear. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"Well, uh... I saw my grandpa at school today," he answered.
At this, Bruce raised his eyebrow with interest. Diana helped to explain. "We met a boy named Barry earlier today. Bart said that he recognized him as his grandfather, Barry Allen."
Clark put his hand to his chin. "Now that I think about it, you guys do look a bit alike..."
"Yeah," Bart said. "And, see, if I do something that messes up the timeline, he might not meet my grandma, and I might not end up being born."
"Hang on," Lois interjected. "Are you getting all your facts about time travel from Back to the Future?"
"That's... that's not the point! I mean... it's true! If I screw things up here, I might get erased from history!"
Bruce shook his head. "No. If that were possible, you'd have done it already. The mere fact that you can still exist in this time means that anything and everything you'll ever do in the present won't stop your future from happening."
The rest of the group spent the next several seconds trying to catch up with Bruce's thoughts. Eventually, they all reached an "ahhh, I get it" moment.
"So..." Bart said, "I don't have to avoid my grandpa?"
Bruce shrugged. "You can go have lunch with him if you want. Though you probably shouldn't call him 'grandpa'."
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Sweaty sweaty wet shower awkward
Bruce and Diana finished their sparring session and made their way back up to the penthouse, sweaty and exhausted. The room they used for sparring was two floors below the penthouse, and Bruce's private elevator didn't have a door that opened on that floor, so they took the stairs.
When Diana looked down the stairwell—which seemed to have soundproof padding along the walls and floors—she noticed that the top four levels of the building were cut off from the rest. The stairs leading down to the 36th level abruptly ended with a flat floor, and it looked as though a construction team had recently blocked off the levels below.
"So how exactly did you get all of this done?" Diana asked. "I thought you weren't going to inherit control of the company 'til next year?"
"Lucius Fox, the man who currently runs my father's company, was one of my parents' closest friends," Bruce replied. "If I ever need anything from the company, he makes sure that I get it. He was the one who convinced the school to switch to Wayne Security last month. Though I don't always have to get it from him; most people in the company are more than happy to give favors to the boy who's going to be their boss in six months."
Diana smiled. As a princess, she'd been treated in much the same way on Themyscira. It was nice to know someone else who was—essentially—royalty.
Diana paused slightly on the stairwell as they passed the 39th floor. All the windows on that floor were blacked out, and the place was cluttered with a mess of computers, work desks, and lab equipment. Diana wasn't sure exactly what it was all for, but she decided to pretend she hadn't noticed.
When they reached the top floor, they walked out through a hidden door in the wall of the penthouse's library. "Why exactly do you have a secret door, anyway?" Diana asked.
Bruce gave a slight boyish grin. "I thought it'd be cool."
Lois had called Bruce earlier in the day, asking if the group could meet up at the penthouse. She didn't say why, but she said it was important. When Bruce had asked Diana if she knew anything, she remained strangely silent.
Bruce and Diana walked into the kitchen, and arrived to find two rather large glasses of icewater already sitting on the counter. Alfred was very good at his job.
The elevator bell dinged, and the doors slid open. Bruce was a bit surprised, as no one was supposed to be here for another half-hour. Lois stepped out of the elevator and was both surprised and confused to see Bruce and Diana in the kitchen together, covered in sweat.
"Diana... I didn't know you'd be here," Lois said, still unsure of what to think.
Here Diana had a dilemma. She knew that Bruce wanted to keep their training sessions a secret, but she had to tell Lois something.
Bruce interjected. "She agreed to teach me how to fight. We were downstairs training until a few minutes ago."
Lois believed him, but was still surprised and confused. "o...kay, then," she said, not wanting to make a scene.
Diana felt the discomfort in the room, and decided that she should be somewhere else. Looking down at herself, she saw how disheveled and sweaty she was. "Um... do you mind if I take a shower before the rest of them get here?" she asked.
"Sure;" Bruce answered. "The bathroom's right around the corner in that hallway."
Diana walked off down the hall, leaving Bruce and Lois alone together.
Lois gave him a look that seemed to say "are you KIDDING ME?"
Bruce sighed and put his hand on his forehead.
Lois nearly stomped as she walked over to him. "What the hell is going on?!" she asked.
"I just told you," Bruce replied. "She's teaching me how to fight."
That apparently didn't matter to Lois one bit. "So, what, she's gonna be coming over to your place every day for private lessons so you guys can get all sweaty together?"
Bruce opened his mouth to defend himself, but Lois cut him off. "No! Don't tell me 'it's not like that.' I mean, look at her!"
Lois's voice started to crack a little as she spoke, and her eyes watered a little. "She's... she's the most gorgeous girl on the PLANET, and—"
This time, Bruce cut her off, putting two fingers gently to her lips. "No. You're the most gorgeous girl on the planet."
Lois felt herself calm down. Bruce put his arms around her, and she let herself slump over onto his shoulder. After a few seconds, she tilted her head up to look at him. "You sure you're not just gonna run off with the amazon princess?"
He grinned at her. "I'm sure."
"Okay," she said as she smiled, leaning her head back onto his shoulder. "She does look pretty hot when she's all wet in that tank top, though, huh?" she jokingly asked him.
Bruce was a little stunned by her joke.
"...I plead the fifth."
When Diana looked down the stairwell—which seemed to have soundproof padding along the walls and floors—she noticed that the top four levels of the building were cut off from the rest. The stairs leading down to the 36th level abruptly ended with a flat floor, and it looked as though a construction team had recently blocked off the levels below.
"So how exactly did you get all of this done?" Diana asked. "I thought you weren't going to inherit control of the company 'til next year?"
"Lucius Fox, the man who currently runs my father's company, was one of my parents' closest friends," Bruce replied. "If I ever need anything from the company, he makes sure that I get it. He was the one who convinced the school to switch to Wayne Security last month. Though I don't always have to get it from him; most people in the company are more than happy to give favors to the boy who's going to be their boss in six months."
Diana smiled. As a princess, she'd been treated in much the same way on Themyscira. It was nice to know someone else who was—essentially—royalty.
Diana paused slightly on the stairwell as they passed the 39th floor. All the windows on that floor were blacked out, and the place was cluttered with a mess of computers, work desks, and lab equipment. Diana wasn't sure exactly what it was all for, but she decided to pretend she hadn't noticed.
When they reached the top floor, they walked out through a hidden door in the wall of the penthouse's library. "Why exactly do you have a secret door, anyway?" Diana asked.
Bruce gave a slight boyish grin. "I thought it'd be cool."
Lois had called Bruce earlier in the day, asking if the group could meet up at the penthouse. She didn't say why, but she said it was important. When Bruce had asked Diana if she knew anything, she remained strangely silent.
Bruce and Diana walked into the kitchen, and arrived to find two rather large glasses of icewater already sitting on the counter. Alfred was very good at his job.
The elevator bell dinged, and the doors slid open. Bruce was a bit surprised, as no one was supposed to be here for another half-hour. Lois stepped out of the elevator and was both surprised and confused to see Bruce and Diana in the kitchen together, covered in sweat.
"Diana... I didn't know you'd be here," Lois said, still unsure of what to think.
Here Diana had a dilemma. She knew that Bruce wanted to keep their training sessions a secret, but she had to tell Lois something.
Bruce interjected. "She agreed to teach me how to fight. We were downstairs training until a few minutes ago."
Lois believed him, but was still surprised and confused. "o...kay, then," she said, not wanting to make a scene.
Diana felt the discomfort in the room, and decided that she should be somewhere else. Looking down at herself, she saw how disheveled and sweaty she was. "Um... do you mind if I take a shower before the rest of them get here?" she asked.
"Sure;" Bruce answered. "The bathroom's right around the corner in that hallway."
Diana walked off down the hall, leaving Bruce and Lois alone together.
Lois gave him a look that seemed to say "are you KIDDING ME?"
Bruce sighed and put his hand on his forehead.
Lois nearly stomped as she walked over to him. "What the hell is going on?!" she asked.
"I just told you," Bruce replied. "She's teaching me how to fight."
That apparently didn't matter to Lois one bit. "So, what, she's gonna be coming over to your place every day for private lessons so you guys can get all sweaty together?"
Bruce opened his mouth to defend himself, but Lois cut him off. "No! Don't tell me 'it's not like that.' I mean, look at her!"
Lois's voice started to crack a little as she spoke, and her eyes watered a little. "She's... she's the most gorgeous girl on the PLANET, and—"
This time, Bruce cut her off, putting two fingers gently to her lips. "No. You're the most gorgeous girl on the planet."
Lois felt herself calm down. Bruce put his arms around her, and she let herself slump over onto his shoulder. After a few seconds, she tilted her head up to look at him. "You sure you're not just gonna run off with the amazon princess?"
He grinned at her. "I'm sure."
"Okay," she said as she smiled, leaning her head back onto his shoulder. "She does look pretty hot when she's all wet in that tank top, though, huh?" she jokingly asked him.
Bruce was a little stunned by her joke.
"...I plead the fifth."
Sunday, March 7, 2010
What do you believe?
Duck.
Block.
Twist to the left.
Thrust.
Block.
Duck.
*WHAM*
"Ow."
Bruce and Diana were sparring. Bruce was being beaten badly.
The three floors underneath Bruce's penthouse in Wayne Tower were entirely empty, and therefore the perfect place to train. In the 18 hours since Diana had agreed to train him, Bruce had had everything they'd need shipped into the tower: floor pads, training weapons, etc. Diana was impressed with his eagerness to learn. She was less impressed, however, with his actual skill.
"Your stance is too narrow, and you're locking your knees."
Bruce shifted his stance accordingly, fighting the urge to give her a spiteful glance.
"That's better," she said, giving him an approving smile.
At the moment, they were training with wooden staffs. Normally Diana wouldn't have started with something so advanced on a student's first day of training, but she thought it might be fun.
They stood about ten feet apart, staring each other down. Bruce looked at Diana with determination and a strong hint of repressed anger. Diana met his gaze with casual bemusement.
Bruce became impatient, charging straight at her. He abruptly stopped about three feet in front of her, twisting to the left and jabbing his staff towards her stomach. Diana was surprised at his rather effective maneuver, but she was more than skilled enough to counter it. Twisting her own weapon underneath his and wrapping it in-between his arms, she flipped him around in a complete backwards somersault, slamming him back-first onto the floor.
She stepped back and stood over him, slowly twirling her staff in one hand.
She was toying with him, and he knew it.
"Are you going to toy with me, or actually teach me something?" he asked.
She replied sternly and forcefully. "Amazons teach through example. We don't 'start easy;' we fight hard."
Bruce moved to attack again, and was soundly thrown to the ground yet again.
"A real foe won't 'go easy on you.' Neither will I. If you expect to be able to learn anything real, you're going to have to learn to fight a real opponent."
Bruce halfway sat up and glared at her over his left knee.
She almost chuckled at him, and let herself relax back into a casual stance. "Maybe you should just pray to Athena for help."
He gave her a quizzical look. "Athena?" he said with an edge of sarcastic disbelief.
"Yes; Athena," Diana said matter-of-factly.
"The goddess Athena?"
"Is there another one?"
Bruce stood up and rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Athena is a myth."
Diana scowled at him. "Athena is the one who gave me life. Does my very existence not prove hers?"
Bruce raised one eyebrow at her. "No, it doesn't. Athena didn't give me life, and I'm here, too."
Diana stood up a bit straighter. Taking her staff in both hands, she held it horizontally and effortlessly snapped it two.
"I am not you."
Bruce decided that it wasn't worth arguing with her. "Fine; believe what you want," he said as he turned back toward the far wall to get a new staff.
Diana felt a wave of sympathy for her friend: was he entirely without belief?
"Bruce..." she gently called out to him, "what do you believe?"
Bruce stopped for a moment, still with his back to Diana. He slowly let his head hang down.
"...I don't know."
Block.
Twist to the left.
Thrust.
Block.
Duck.
*WHAM*
"Ow."
Bruce and Diana were sparring. Bruce was being beaten badly.
The three floors underneath Bruce's penthouse in Wayne Tower were entirely empty, and therefore the perfect place to train. In the 18 hours since Diana had agreed to train him, Bruce had had everything they'd need shipped into the tower: floor pads, training weapons, etc. Diana was impressed with his eagerness to learn. She was less impressed, however, with his actual skill.
"Your stance is too narrow, and you're locking your knees."
Bruce shifted his stance accordingly, fighting the urge to give her a spiteful glance.
"That's better," she said, giving him an approving smile.
At the moment, they were training with wooden staffs. Normally Diana wouldn't have started with something so advanced on a student's first day of training, but she thought it might be fun.
They stood about ten feet apart, staring each other down. Bruce looked at Diana with determination and a strong hint of repressed anger. Diana met his gaze with casual bemusement.
Bruce became impatient, charging straight at her. He abruptly stopped about three feet in front of her, twisting to the left and jabbing his staff towards her stomach. Diana was surprised at his rather effective maneuver, but she was more than skilled enough to counter it. Twisting her own weapon underneath his and wrapping it in-between his arms, she flipped him around in a complete backwards somersault, slamming him back-first onto the floor.
She stepped back and stood over him, slowly twirling her staff in one hand.
She was toying with him, and he knew it.
"Are you going to toy with me, or actually teach me something?" he asked.
She replied sternly and forcefully. "Amazons teach through example. We don't 'start easy;' we fight hard."
Bruce moved to attack again, and was soundly thrown to the ground yet again.
"A real foe won't 'go easy on you.' Neither will I. If you expect to be able to learn anything real, you're going to have to learn to fight a real opponent."
Bruce halfway sat up and glared at her over his left knee.
She almost chuckled at him, and let herself relax back into a casual stance. "Maybe you should just pray to Athena for help."
He gave her a quizzical look. "Athena?" he said with an edge of sarcastic disbelief.
"Yes; Athena," Diana said matter-of-factly.
"The goddess Athena?"
"Is there another one?"
Bruce stood up and rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Athena is a myth."
Diana scowled at him. "Athena is the one who gave me life. Does my very existence not prove hers?"
Bruce raised one eyebrow at her. "No, it doesn't. Athena didn't give me life, and I'm here, too."
Diana stood up a bit straighter. Taking her staff in both hands, she held it horizontally and effortlessly snapped it two.
"I am not you."
Bruce decided that it wasn't worth arguing with her. "Fine; believe what you want," he said as he turned back toward the far wall to get a new staff.
Diana felt a wave of sympathy for her friend: was he entirely without belief?
"Bruce..." she gently called out to him, "what do you believe?"
Bruce stopped for a moment, still with his back to Diana. He slowly let his head hang down.
"...I don't know."
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Prototype
You have to wait 'til you're seventeen to join the Air Force. Far as I'm concerned, that's a crime.
Name's Hal Jordan. I may be only sixteen, but I'm already a pilot. Every second of every day, my feet burn, like they're stuck to the floor. I want that rush; that thrill of flying. The best I can get is doing one-forty down the highway when the cops aren't looking, but even that's not good enough.
I took pilot classes back in my hometown, Coast City. Ferris Aircraft—which, by the way, is one of the top aircraft engineering companies in the country—started up pilot programs for high-schoolers a few years ago. They figure it's better to start training future pilots while they're still young. The idea is that most of the graduates will either become Air Force pilots or test pilots for Ferris, so both the Air Force and Ferris have good reason to keep the school running. Personally, I'm just happy as long as it gives me an excuse to be flying.
The old school back home was fine, really. The on-base simulator was as close as you can get to really flying, and it's where I learned everything I know about being a pilot—everything I didn't learn from my dad, that is. This school, though, is a thousand times better.
Hal walked up the steps to the glass doorway entrance of the Wayne/Ferris Flight Academy.
Situated just on the outskirts of Metropolis, this air base—as its name suggested—was a combined business venture between Wayne Aerospace and Ferris Air, acting as an R&D center, a flight base, and a pilot school. The future of aeronautics technologies were being developed here, and the students at the academy were being trained to use them.
Opening the door, Hal was promptly greeted by the stereotypically-attractive young blonde receptionist at the front desk.
"Hi there; what can I help you with?" she said rather cheerily.
Hal gave her his "ruggedly handsome half-smile," making sure to take notice of her name tag. "Well, Chelsea, I just transferred in from the Coast City academy."
Chelsea noticed the flirtatious way he'd said her name, and smiled a little at it. "You must be Hal Jordan," she said.
"Oh? You've heard of me?" Hal said, leaning forward on the desk and still grinning at her.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Jordan," she replied in an overdramatized and flirtatious manner. "We've been waiting for your arrival ever since we got your transfer application."
Heh, Hal thought to himself, The name tag trick always works.
"Uh... Hal Jordan?"
Hal turned to see a tall African-American man in a business suit standing in the hallway to the right. "If you'll come with me, please?"
Hal followed the man—who he thought seemed very familiar—but made sure to throw back a "see you later, Chelsea," over his shoulder.
The man began talking with Hal as they walked down the hallways through the building. "Mister Jordan, your transcripts from Coast City are excellent. In the few years since the development of the Ferris Air Academy program, no one's had higher flight test scores than yours."
Hal shrugged. "I do my best, sir."
The man smiled approvingly at him. "That's very good, son. You'll have some competition here, though. Think you can handle it?"
Hal tilted his head a little in confusion. "Competition, sir? I thought my test scores were the highest?"
At this, the man got a small mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Well now, I said we'd never had higher scores than yours, but Cadet Pearlman has tied your score."
"Huh," Hal thought. "Well then, I guess I'd better make sure and kick the crap out of him during flight sessions."
"One thing I'm curious about, though," the man began, "why choose the callsign 'Highball'? You're a little young to know about a drink like that, now aren't you?"
Hal shrugged. "It was my dad's callsign, about twenty years ago. I never really asked him why."
"Well, that's good enough for me, I suppose," the man replied.
They walked through a door and into the lounge area for the teen students. There were only about a half-dozen students registered at the Metropolis Base, so the room was rather small and sparsely furnished. A few gray couches and a coffee table, with a small kitchen area off to the side. Hal wasn't focused on the furniture, however, but who was sitting on it.
Hal had spent more time staring at girls than he cared to admit. He was about as much of an expert on the young female form as any sixteen-year-old could be without breaking any federal laws. The girl sitting on the couch across from him, however, was one of the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous young women he'd ever seen. She was blonde, wearing blue jeans and a cowboy hat. Her dark blue eyes—which were dimly visible beneath the wide brim of her hat—had an adventurous look to them that would make any man's heart beat twice as fast.
The man who'd led Hal into the room made introductions for the two. "Hal Jordan, this is Jillian Pearlman, callsign 'Cowgirl'."
Jillian stood up and walked over to Hal, holding out her hand to him. "Hey there, stranger," she said with a rather thick Southern accent. If Hal weren't so surprised by her beauty—and the fact that she was apparently his equal in piloting skill—he might have laughed at the fact that she was almost a perfect "country girl" stereotype.
As it was, he politely shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."
Hal might have had a reputation for being a hotshot womanizer, but he could maintain a gentlemanly manner when the situation called for it. Ferris Academy had rather strict rules about students dating one another—apparently to simulate military policies—so this "Cowgirl" was entirely off-limits.
Hal took a second to look around the room, and suddenly noticed something out the adjacent doorway to the right. His heart jumped up in his chest, and he practically sprinted out the door and into the connecting hallway, which had a glass wall overlooking a massive airplane hangar. Sitting in the hangar was the reason he'd moved to the Metropolis base in the first place: the Javelin-4.
The primary product of the Wayne/Ferris partnership, the Javelin was a special type of hypersonic jet designed to carry important personnel anywhere across the globe in less than an hour. It was big—about thirty meters long—and was pointed like a spearhead, with rotatable mini-wings on either side. Normally Hal wouldn't have wanted to fly something so big and bulky, but the Javelin possessed technologies that no other plane would have for years. Quite simply, it was the best plane in the world. And Hal, more than anything else in the world, wanted to fly it.
"Beautiful, isn't she?"
Hal turned to the right and saw a long-haired man in a business suit standing to his side, looking out into the hangar. Something about him made Hal feel a bit uneasy.
"Uh... yeah. Yeah, she is," he replied slowly.
The businessman suddenly turned to Hal, giving him a friendly smile and holding out his hand for Hal to shake it. "I'm sorry; I should have introduced myself. My name is Lionel Luthor."
Hal nodded slightly in acknowledgment—he recognized the name—and, not knowing what else to do, shook Lionel's hand. "Hal Jordan."
Lionel feigned surprise. "Hal Jordan? Really? Aren't you the ace pilot from Coast City? If I remember correctly, your test scores were through the roof."
Hal stepped back slightly and frowned at Lionel. "Well, sir, I don't know how you'd know that, considering those test scores are confidential."
Lionel grinned at him. "Nothing is truly confidential, for those with influence."
Hal kept up a hard stare. "Alright, you've obviously been looking up on me, so what do you want with me?"
Lionel kept on his fake-friendly smile, but moved closer and spoke in a slightly more hushed tone. "Hal, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Although no one knows it yet, everything in that hangar"—he waved his hand toward the hangar—"every nut and bolt of every bit of technology on this base will soon be mine."
"Can I quote you on that?"
Lionel turned around to see Lois Lane, who had a voice recorder held up to his face. Lionel's face began to show his anger, and he opened his mouth to speak. He was stopped, however, when the African-American man from earlier walked in.
"Lionel Luthor," he said disapprovingly. "I don't remember giving you authorization to enter this building."
Lionel sarcastically smiled back at him. "As it happens, Lucius, I'm on my way out."
Hal suddenly remembered where he'd seen the man before.
That's Lucius Fox, the C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises!
Lionel walked out of the building the same way Hal had come in, leaving Lois, Hal, and Lucius by themselves.
Lucius smiled at Lois. "Lois! It's good to see you! I must say, that was impeccable timing."
Lois smiled back. "Thanks; you too. It's just a coincidence, actually. I'm here to see Hal."
She turned to Hal. "So I'm doing some research for the school paper, and we're looking for information on the new transfer students. Your friend, Barry, isn't in the school records..."
Hal nodded. "Yeah, he doesn't actually live in Metropolis. He lives in Central City; he just stopped by to say hi."
Lois gave him a quizzical look. "He just 'stopped by?' Central City is five hundred miles away."
Hal chuckled a little. "Yeah, well, he's a fast runner."
Lois's eyes went a little wider for a second before she remembered to pretend like she didn't know what was going on. She fake-chuckled back at him, said her goodbyes, and left.
Hal breathed a silent sigh of relief. Almost slipped up there.
Name's Hal Jordan. I may be only sixteen, but I'm already a pilot. Every second of every day, my feet burn, like they're stuck to the floor. I want that rush; that thrill of flying. The best I can get is doing one-forty down the highway when the cops aren't looking, but even that's not good enough.
I took pilot classes back in my hometown, Coast City. Ferris Aircraft—which, by the way, is one of the top aircraft engineering companies in the country—started up pilot programs for high-schoolers a few years ago. They figure it's better to start training future pilots while they're still young. The idea is that most of the graduates will either become Air Force pilots or test pilots for Ferris, so both the Air Force and Ferris have good reason to keep the school running. Personally, I'm just happy as long as it gives me an excuse to be flying.
The old school back home was fine, really. The on-base simulator was as close as you can get to really flying, and it's where I learned everything I know about being a pilot—everything I didn't learn from my dad, that is. This school, though, is a thousand times better.
Hal walked up the steps to the glass doorway entrance of the Wayne/Ferris Flight Academy.
Situated just on the outskirts of Metropolis, this air base—as its name suggested—was a combined business venture between Wayne Aerospace and Ferris Air, acting as an R&D center, a flight base, and a pilot school. The future of aeronautics technologies were being developed here, and the students at the academy were being trained to use them.
Opening the door, Hal was promptly greeted by the stereotypically-attractive young blonde receptionist at the front desk.
"Hi there; what can I help you with?" she said rather cheerily.
Hal gave her his "ruggedly handsome half-smile," making sure to take notice of her name tag. "Well, Chelsea, I just transferred in from the Coast City academy."
Chelsea noticed the flirtatious way he'd said her name, and smiled a little at it. "You must be Hal Jordan," she said.
"Oh? You've heard of me?" Hal said, leaning forward on the desk and still grinning at her.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Jordan," she replied in an overdramatized and flirtatious manner. "We've been waiting for your arrival ever since we got your transfer application."
Heh, Hal thought to himself, The name tag trick always works.
"Uh... Hal Jordan?"
Hal turned to see a tall African-American man in a business suit standing in the hallway to the right. "If you'll come with me, please?"
Hal followed the man—who he thought seemed very familiar—but made sure to throw back a "see you later, Chelsea," over his shoulder.
The man began talking with Hal as they walked down the hallways through the building. "Mister Jordan, your transcripts from Coast City are excellent. In the few years since the development of the Ferris Air Academy program, no one's had higher flight test scores than yours."
Hal shrugged. "I do my best, sir."
The man smiled approvingly at him. "That's very good, son. You'll have some competition here, though. Think you can handle it?"
Hal tilted his head a little in confusion. "Competition, sir? I thought my test scores were the highest?"
At this, the man got a small mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Well now, I said we'd never had higher scores than yours, but Cadet Pearlman has tied your score."
"Huh," Hal thought. "Well then, I guess I'd better make sure and kick the crap out of him during flight sessions."
"One thing I'm curious about, though," the man began, "why choose the callsign 'Highball'? You're a little young to know about a drink like that, now aren't you?"
Hal shrugged. "It was my dad's callsign, about twenty years ago. I never really asked him why."
"Well, that's good enough for me, I suppose," the man replied.
They walked through a door and into the lounge area for the teen students. There were only about a half-dozen students registered at the Metropolis Base, so the room was rather small and sparsely furnished. A few gray couches and a coffee table, with a small kitchen area off to the side. Hal wasn't focused on the furniture, however, but who was sitting on it.
Hal had spent more time staring at girls than he cared to admit. He was about as much of an expert on the young female form as any sixteen-year-old could be without breaking any federal laws. The girl sitting on the couch across from him, however, was one of the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous young women he'd ever seen. She was blonde, wearing blue jeans and a cowboy hat. Her dark blue eyes—which were dimly visible beneath the wide brim of her hat—had an adventurous look to them that would make any man's heart beat twice as fast.
The man who'd led Hal into the room made introductions for the two. "Hal Jordan, this is Jillian Pearlman, callsign 'Cowgirl'."
Jillian stood up and walked over to Hal, holding out her hand to him. "Hey there, stranger," she said with a rather thick Southern accent. If Hal weren't so surprised by her beauty—and the fact that she was apparently his equal in piloting skill—he might have laughed at the fact that she was almost a perfect "country girl" stereotype.
As it was, he politely shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."
Hal might have had a reputation for being a hotshot womanizer, but he could maintain a gentlemanly manner when the situation called for it. Ferris Academy had rather strict rules about students dating one another—apparently to simulate military policies—so this "Cowgirl" was entirely off-limits.
Hal took a second to look around the room, and suddenly noticed something out the adjacent doorway to the right. His heart jumped up in his chest, and he practically sprinted out the door and into the connecting hallway, which had a glass wall overlooking a massive airplane hangar. Sitting in the hangar was the reason he'd moved to the Metropolis base in the first place: the Javelin-4.
The primary product of the Wayne/Ferris partnership, the Javelin was a special type of hypersonic jet designed to carry important personnel anywhere across the globe in less than an hour. It was big—about thirty meters long—and was pointed like a spearhead, with rotatable mini-wings on either side. Normally Hal wouldn't have wanted to fly something so big and bulky, but the Javelin possessed technologies that no other plane would have for years. Quite simply, it was the best plane in the world. And Hal, more than anything else in the world, wanted to fly it.
"Beautiful, isn't she?"
Hal turned to the right and saw a long-haired man in a business suit standing to his side, looking out into the hangar. Something about him made Hal feel a bit uneasy.
"Uh... yeah. Yeah, she is," he replied slowly.
The businessman suddenly turned to Hal, giving him a friendly smile and holding out his hand for Hal to shake it. "I'm sorry; I should have introduced myself. My name is Lionel Luthor."
Hal nodded slightly in acknowledgment—he recognized the name—and, not knowing what else to do, shook Lionel's hand. "Hal Jordan."
Lionel feigned surprise. "Hal Jordan? Really? Aren't you the ace pilot from Coast City? If I remember correctly, your test scores were through the roof."
Hal stepped back slightly and frowned at Lionel. "Well, sir, I don't know how you'd know that, considering those test scores are confidential."
Lionel grinned at him. "Nothing is truly confidential, for those with influence."
Hal kept up a hard stare. "Alright, you've obviously been looking up on me, so what do you want with me?"
Lionel kept on his fake-friendly smile, but moved closer and spoke in a slightly more hushed tone. "Hal, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Although no one knows it yet, everything in that hangar"—he waved his hand toward the hangar—"every nut and bolt of every bit of technology on this base will soon be mine."
"Can I quote you on that?"
Lionel turned around to see Lois Lane, who had a voice recorder held up to his face. Lionel's face began to show his anger, and he opened his mouth to speak. He was stopped, however, when the African-American man from earlier walked in.
"Lionel Luthor," he said disapprovingly. "I don't remember giving you authorization to enter this building."
Lionel sarcastically smiled back at him. "As it happens, Lucius, I'm on my way out."
Hal suddenly remembered where he'd seen the man before.
That's Lucius Fox, the C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises!
Lionel walked out of the building the same way Hal had come in, leaving Lois, Hal, and Lucius by themselves.
Lucius smiled at Lois. "Lois! It's good to see you! I must say, that was impeccable timing."
Lois smiled back. "Thanks; you too. It's just a coincidence, actually. I'm here to see Hal."
She turned to Hal. "So I'm doing some research for the school paper, and we're looking for information on the new transfer students. Your friend, Barry, isn't in the school records..."
Hal nodded. "Yeah, he doesn't actually live in Metropolis. He lives in Central City; he just stopped by to say hi."
Lois gave him a quizzical look. "He just 'stopped by?' Central City is five hundred miles away."
Hal chuckled a little. "Yeah, well, he's a fast runner."
Lois's eyes went a little wider for a second before she remembered to pretend like she didn't know what was going on. She fake-chuckled back at him, said her goodbyes, and left.
Hal breathed a silent sigh of relief. Almost slipped up there.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Past History
Monday morning seemed rather bright.
It was about 10:00 AM, and the hallways of Metropolis High were filled with students in-between classes. As Diana walked up to her locker, she took a moment to look down the hallway to her left, taking in the rays of morning sunshine that swept in from the glass-walled front entrance to the school. She missed the constant sunshine of her island, and made sure to soak in as much of it as she could while living in the city.
As she turned back to her locker, she noticed Bart standing to her right, practically hiding in her shadow. He looked a little embarrassed, and more than a little uncomfortable. He kept his eyes on the floor, as though he didn't have the will to look her in the eye.
"Bart? Are you okay?" Diana asked.
"Yeah, um, I'm okay."
He took a silent deep breath and swallowed. "So... thanks, for yesterday. For not telling Bruce that I... that I lied."
Diana frowned concernedly at him. "Why did you lie to him?"
Bart winced a little at her question. "If I told you, it might be... really bad."
Diana gently put her hand under his chin and lifted his head up to look at her, giving him a genuinely caring smile. "Hey, you can tell me anything, alright?"
Bart blushed a little, and couldn't help but smile a little bit back at her. "Thanks."
He took a step backward out of embarrassment, and slipped back into his shameful persona. "But it's not that I don't trust you... it's just..."
Bart stopped in mid-sentence as he glanced down the hallway behind Diana, his eyes going wide with horror.
Diana instantly spun around to see what Bart was looking at, but saw nothing of out of the ordinary. Confused, she turned back to Bart, but he was gone.
Clark and Lois walked up to her. "Hey," Clark said, "was Bart here? I thought I heard him over here a second ago."
Diana, still looking down the hallway where Bart had once stood, took only a quick glance over to meet Clark and Lois's gaze. "Yeah, a second ago he was here. Then he ran after he saw something over—" she turned to look back down the hallway where Bart had been looking, but froze in mid-sentence.
Two young men, about sixteen years old, walked down the hallway, side-by-side. One was blonde, about 5'10'', and walked with the same gentle-yet-purposeful attitude that Clark did. He seemed very physically fit, somewhat like a baseball player.
The other boy was the same height, but brown-haired and far less proper. He was stereotypically handsome, like a 50s-era movie star. He walked with a somewhat arrogant swagger, carrying a brown bomber jacket over his shoulder.
As Diana saw the second boy, her eyes went wide with surprise before quickly squinting in anger. "YOU!" she yelled, stomping her booted feet as she walked towards him.
Lois and Clark, utterly confused, stood off to the side of the hall and watched the scene.
The dark-haired boy looked at Diana, and nearly jumped back in surprise. "Diana?!... What are you doing here?"
"Me?! What are YOU doing here?!"
The boy was obviously caught off-guard. His companion stood to the side, smirking at his friend's self-imposed misfortune. "I... go to school here now," the brown-haired boy awkwardly responded. Diana was relentless in her anger. "And WHY is that? Not enough girls in Coast City for you? You had to migrate to 'new fields?'"
Lois couldn't help but admire Diana's clever insult.
The boy hung his head a bit, and spoke gently. "Diana... I'm sorry..."
Diana wouldn't hear any of it. "Save it," she said, her words laced with a tinge of verbal venom. She turned and stormed away, leaving everyone else behind.
The boy sighed heavily, and leaned his head back in frustration.
The blonde boy humorously put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Nice job there, buddy."
Lois and Clark looked at one another with puzzled expressions, then walked over to the two newcomers. Lois was the first to speak. "So what'd you do to her, exactly?"
The brown-haired one responded with more than a hint of frustrated humor. "I'm her ex-boyfriend."
Clark and Lois both tilted their heads slightly backwards in an "Ah, so that's it" expression.
"Yeah... I think she mentioned you once or twice. So you're from Coast City?" Lois asked.
"Yeah. 'Name's Hal Jordan," he said, politely holding his hand out to her.
Lois just stared down at his hand, then raised an eyebrow as she looked back up at him. "Um... I'm on her side here. Sorry."
Clark rolled his eyes and moved to shake Hal's hand. "Nice to meet you, Hal. The snarky one is named Lois. Diana works with us for the school paper."
Hal nodded slightly in understanding. "Ahh... gotcha. This is Barry," he said, jabbing a thumb backwards toward his blond friend. "Hey," Barry said politely.
"We just transferred here from Coast City," Hal explained. "Had no idea she'd be here."
Lois's reporter instinct wouldn't let her stop asking questions. "So why are you here?"
"Wayne Aerospace has a pilots' program for young students over on the outskirts of the city. I take my pilot classes over there, and my normal classes here. I would've been here a month ago, but my transcripts... got lost along the way."
Barry chimed in. "More accurately, another one of his ex-girlfriends broke into the school office and burned his records."
Hal rolled his eyes and turned to Barry. "They never proved that she was the one who actually started that fire!"
Lois kept her snarky attitude focused. "Well, that'll make things pretty tough for you this semester, playing catch-up and all."
Hal turned to her. "It just takes a little willpower, Lois," he said, sending her a wink.
Lois almost blushed, but caught herself in time. "Damn! He's good at that..." she thought.
Clark looked at the clock on the wall, and remembered quickly that he had to get to class. "Well, if you guys need anything, let me know. I'd be happy to show you around sometime."
"Thanks," Barry said politely. "We'd better go, Hal. We don't wanna be late again."
"Sure," Hal acknowledged. "I'll see you guys later, I guess," he said to Lois and Clark as he walked toward his next class.
When Diana angrily opened the door to the Daily Star office—she barely remembered to be careful not to break it down—she found Bart sitting in her chair, his legs pulled up onto the seat and his arms around his knees. He looked like he'd just looked into the face of death itself.
Diana quickly forgot her anger towards Hal as she saw Bart's distress. "Bart! Are you okay?" she said as she ran across the room and crouched next to him, putting her hand on his shoulder.
"That... that guy..." Bart said.
Diana was surprised. "Hal? What about him? What did he do?!"
Bart looked at her with frustrated confusion. "What? No. Not him. The other guy."
"The blond one?" Diana asked. "What about him?"
Bart looked her in the eyes. "He's my grandfather."
It was about 10:00 AM, and the hallways of Metropolis High were filled with students in-between classes. As Diana walked up to her locker, she took a moment to look down the hallway to her left, taking in the rays of morning sunshine that swept in from the glass-walled front entrance to the school. She missed the constant sunshine of her island, and made sure to soak in as much of it as she could while living in the city.
As she turned back to her locker, she noticed Bart standing to her right, practically hiding in her shadow. He looked a little embarrassed, and more than a little uncomfortable. He kept his eyes on the floor, as though he didn't have the will to look her in the eye.
"Bart? Are you okay?" Diana asked.
"Yeah, um, I'm okay."
He took a silent deep breath and swallowed. "So... thanks, for yesterday. For not telling Bruce that I... that I lied."
Diana frowned concernedly at him. "Why did you lie to him?"
Bart winced a little at her question. "If I told you, it might be... really bad."
Diana gently put her hand under his chin and lifted his head up to look at her, giving him a genuinely caring smile. "Hey, you can tell me anything, alright?"
Bart blushed a little, and couldn't help but smile a little bit back at her. "Thanks."
He took a step backward out of embarrassment, and slipped back into his shameful persona. "But it's not that I don't trust you... it's just..."
Bart stopped in mid-sentence as he glanced down the hallway behind Diana, his eyes going wide with horror.
Diana instantly spun around to see what Bart was looking at, but saw nothing of out of the ordinary. Confused, she turned back to Bart, but he was gone.
Clark and Lois walked up to her. "Hey," Clark said, "was Bart here? I thought I heard him over here a second ago."
Diana, still looking down the hallway where Bart had once stood, took only a quick glance over to meet Clark and Lois's gaze. "Yeah, a second ago he was here. Then he ran after he saw something over—" she turned to look back down the hallway where Bart had been looking, but froze in mid-sentence.
Two young men, about sixteen years old, walked down the hallway, side-by-side. One was blonde, about 5'10'', and walked with the same gentle-yet-purposeful attitude that Clark did. He seemed very physically fit, somewhat like a baseball player.
The other boy was the same height, but brown-haired and far less proper. He was stereotypically handsome, like a 50s-era movie star. He walked with a somewhat arrogant swagger, carrying a brown bomber jacket over his shoulder.
As Diana saw the second boy, her eyes went wide with surprise before quickly squinting in anger. "YOU!" she yelled, stomping her booted feet as she walked towards him.
Lois and Clark, utterly confused, stood off to the side of the hall and watched the scene.
The dark-haired boy looked at Diana, and nearly jumped back in surprise. "Diana?!... What are you doing here?"
"Me?! What are YOU doing here?!"
The boy was obviously caught off-guard. His companion stood to the side, smirking at his friend's self-imposed misfortune. "I... go to school here now," the brown-haired boy awkwardly responded. Diana was relentless in her anger. "And WHY is that? Not enough girls in Coast City for you? You had to migrate to 'new fields?'"
Lois couldn't help but admire Diana's clever insult.
The boy hung his head a bit, and spoke gently. "Diana... I'm sorry..."
Diana wouldn't hear any of it. "Save it," she said, her words laced with a tinge of verbal venom. She turned and stormed away, leaving everyone else behind.
The boy sighed heavily, and leaned his head back in frustration.
The blonde boy humorously put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Nice job there, buddy."
Lois and Clark looked at one another with puzzled expressions, then walked over to the two newcomers. Lois was the first to speak. "So what'd you do to her, exactly?"
The brown-haired one responded with more than a hint of frustrated humor. "I'm her ex-boyfriend."
Clark and Lois both tilted their heads slightly backwards in an "Ah, so that's it" expression.
"Yeah... I think she mentioned you once or twice. So you're from Coast City?" Lois asked.
"Yeah. 'Name's Hal Jordan," he said, politely holding his hand out to her.
Lois just stared down at his hand, then raised an eyebrow as she looked back up at him. "Um... I'm on her side here. Sorry."
Clark rolled his eyes and moved to shake Hal's hand. "Nice to meet you, Hal. The snarky one is named Lois. Diana works with us for the school paper."
Hal nodded slightly in understanding. "Ahh... gotcha. This is Barry," he said, jabbing a thumb backwards toward his blond friend. "Hey," Barry said politely.
"We just transferred here from Coast City," Hal explained. "Had no idea she'd be here."
Lois's reporter instinct wouldn't let her stop asking questions. "So why are you here?"
"Wayne Aerospace has a pilots' program for young students over on the outskirts of the city. I take my pilot classes over there, and my normal classes here. I would've been here a month ago, but my transcripts... got lost along the way."
Barry chimed in. "More accurately, another one of his ex-girlfriends broke into the school office and burned his records."
Hal rolled his eyes and turned to Barry. "They never proved that she was the one who actually started that fire!"
Lois kept her snarky attitude focused. "Well, that'll make things pretty tough for you this semester, playing catch-up and all."
Hal turned to her. "It just takes a little willpower, Lois," he said, sending her a wink.
Lois almost blushed, but caught herself in time. "Damn! He's good at that..." she thought.
Clark looked at the clock on the wall, and remembered quickly that he had to get to class. "Well, if you guys need anything, let me know. I'd be happy to show you around sometime."
"Thanks," Barry said politely. "We'd better go, Hal. We don't wanna be late again."
"Sure," Hal acknowledged. "I'll see you guys later, I guess," he said to Lois and Clark as he walked toward his next class.
When Diana angrily opened the door to the Daily Star office—she barely remembered to be careful not to break it down—she found Bart sitting in her chair, his legs pulled up onto the seat and his arms around his knees. He looked like he'd just looked into the face of death itself.
Diana quickly forgot her anger towards Hal as she saw Bart's distress. "Bart! Are you okay?" she said as she ran across the room and crouched next to him, putting her hand on his shoulder.
"That... that guy..." Bart said.
Diana was surprised. "Hal? What about him? What did he do?!"
Bart looked at her with frustrated confusion. "What? No. Not him. The other guy."
"The blond one?" Diana asked. "What about him?"
Bart looked her in the eyes. "He's my grandfather."
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Secret Files
After Bruce and Alfred were left alone in the penthouse, they went to work.
Long after WayneTech's employees had gone home for the night, Bruce took their place. In the darkness of night, Bruce sat in the building's main laboratory, staring intently at three water glasses on the table in front of him. Each of the glasses had, at some point, touched the lips of one of the super-powered teens that had been Bruce's guests earlier that night.
Once the chemical/DNA analysis was complete, Bruce copied the information to a flashdrive and erased all evidence of his presence.
Long after WayneTech's employees had gone home for the night, Bruce took their place. In the darkness of night, Bruce sat in the building's main laboratory, staring intently at three water glasses on the table in front of him. Each of the glasses had, at some point, touched the lips of one of the super-powered teens that had been Bruce's guests earlier that night.
Once the chemical/DNA analysis was complete, Bruce copied the information to a flashdrive and erased all evidence of his presence.
C:/Users/Bruce/Documents/*hidden folder*/metas.doc
Name: Allen, Bart
DOB: 06/15/1994
Height: 5'6''
Abilities:
Abilities:
Allen has the ability to accelerate his body to supersonic speeds, through means unknown. DNA analysis completely unreadable, due to the test sample vibrating at microscopic levels. It's possible that his DNA is somehow connected to an outside force that induces motion.
Bio:
A sophomore at Metropolis High School. Completely without any close acquaintances aside from Kent, Prince, and Lois. Lied about the origin of his abilities; must investigate further.
Name: Prince, Diana
DOB: 7/24/1993
Height: 5'10''
Height: 5'10''
Abilities:
Superhuman strength and flight. She also possesses the ability to discern truthfulness in others, though it is unclear whether this is based in psychological training or actual superhuman ability. Diana is also trained in a unique form of martial arts designed to block fast-moving projectiles, and can utilize her twin bracelets to deflect high-caliber bullets fired in rapid succession. Her prowess in this form of combat is such that she was able to subdue Floyd "Deadshot" Lawton, a notorious mercenary gunman.
Bio:
Lives with her mother, Helen Prince, and is a recent transfer to Metropolis High. Diana claims to have been born on the legendary Amazonian island of Themyscira, a claim consistent with the delusions of a psychotic mind. As of yet, her history (as well as the origin of her powers) remains unclear.
Several hours after initial separation from her body, the DNA in her saliva broke down and reorganized into basic minerals, with no apparent scientific explanation.
Name: Kent, Clark
DOB: 6/30/1993
Height: 6'2''
Height: 6'2''
Abilities:
Superhuman strength, durability, speed, and flight. He also claims to potentially have additional abilities that he is not yet aware of.
Bio:
Lives in Smallville, Kansas, and commutes to Metropolis High via either super-speed running or flight. Claims to be the sole survivor of an alien planet named "Krypton." No evidence has been shown to support this, though the obvious inhuman abilities he possesses certainly support this type theory.
DNA analysis confirms his non-human nature. Spectrum analysis of dead skin cells on the glass suggest a genetic "Achilles' heel," a weakness in his bodily structure to a highly specific type of radiation. This radiation could, in theory, cause cellular injury and eventual death. As of yet, no known way to replicate this radiation exists.
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