|i_dontlie (i_dontlie) wrote in we_coexist,|
@ 2008-07-08 23:20:00
|Entry tags:||bruce wayne, clark kent, zz:status complete|
S is for Superman [ backdated and open to Bruce ]
He was flying low over the City's streets, catching the attention of the occasional dog walker or snowcone-eating child as he listened for problems on the evening air. Ever since he was released from his stone prison, he hadn't wanted to stop moving. Sleeping was so impossible that it didn't even cross his thoughts. There were several times already that he found himself tempted to fly straight at the sky despite the knowledge that he couldn't get out of the atmosphere to view the Earth. This wasn't Earth. But there was nothing Clark enjoyed more than ripping through the air with a cape on his back.
Superman's restlessness had resulted in a severe drop in the City's crime tonight. He was sure he'd been recorded on at least eighteen different cellphones, which was an odd thought for a reporter, not to mention the sightings by various police officers. If he kept it up, Superman knew he'd be on the frontpage for the next week or so. That didn't give him much time to see Bruce before the billionaire got offended.
The crude S signal in the sky was funny the first night it went up. He'd been ready to fly over there immediately, just to make some wisecrack about why Batman's signal was so much better looking than his own, but found he couldn't. The banter was appealing, if only because it would annoy Bruce. Clark didn't go because found there was a bitterness in him. Not over the signal, but over the fact that it'd taken a young witch whom he didn't know to bring him out of stone. He was going to be grateful to her for a long time. He had already set the idea in his mind to help her, somehow. From what Clark could tell, he had been in stone for a very long time. A whole network of superheroes had existed here, who insisted that he trust them, and yet none of them came to get him out of there. Not even the one he'd stood in front of to save.
It wasn't like him to be angry. So he kept flying, hoping the emotion would go away.
Superman had turned toward the docks when he saw the signal break through the clouds again. This was the fourth night. He tried to imagine Batman waiting up on a rooftop, perhaps in a lawn chair, next to a big spotlight. He smiled.
Alright, so it was still funny.
He made a sharp turn and shot off toward the rooftop of Wayne Tech, where the light was coming from.