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Jul. 8th, 2008


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.

May. 29th, 2008


Meet ups (Clark)

He got word that Superman had been seen in the city again. Active. Which meant that the little witch had gotten her hands on that mirror thing and it had actually worked. He'd have to send her a thank you soon.

For now, what he needed to do, was find Clark and make sure that he was doing alright.

The best that Bruce could think up, due to the adrenalin rushing through him at the mention of Superman that he'd heard from somebody passing by, was to go up on the roof of Wayne Tech and somehow signal.

Bruce retrofitted a high powered police car spot light with a piece of plastic and carved a crude S into it with a knife. On the roof, he set it up so it would show over most of the city, and sat in a lawn chair to wait.

Apr. 3rd, 2008


Stoned (Superman)

The emails flew back and forth. Some of them much more civil than others. At first the user claimed there was no way to ship to an address that ended simply with The City let alone overnight it. Willow remained persistent, asking him to go ahead and do so. The witch was worried that user Magikks1291 would simply refuse until two hours before the bidding had ended, when the emails changed suddenly and unexpectedly in tone.

The mirror arrived early the next morning. Like all eBay users, the shipping cost was grossly over charged. Willow thanked the gods that she wasn't the one paying the bill this time. She decided not to imagine what Mr. Wayne's reaction would look like when he saw the invoice.

She set the super statue very carefully on a large blanket and dragged it very slowly into the back training room. Unsure how to get the punching bag down which dangled in the center of the room, an item no one made use of, in the end she decided she could make plenty of space toward the exit door.

It took her 40 minutes before she was certain that Superman was solid and upright. She then took a piece of chalk and began to write a number of runes circling his feet. She made a special trip for the candles. Usually she stuck to black or white, mostly for aesthetic reasons, but feeling particularly festive about the prospect of doing the world some good once more, she dotted the circle of chalk markings with blue, red and yellow candles. It felt fitting.

The mirror was the last component to set up and still covered by a cloth. When she stood it up, Willow adjusted the full length mirror on its hinges in order to angle it perfectly. It faced the super hero waiting to be unveiled.

"Okay, here goes nothing..."

She lifted the cloth. It flew from the silver mirror with a spectacular flutter, and drifted serenely toward the floor in a rumpled heap. The statue's reflection was visible in the mirror but there was no change. Willow frowned. She swallowed. She paced. The witch knew how to correct the situation, and her heart dropped a few notches until it hit her stomach.

She stood behind the mirror, her hands gripping the frame on either side. She began to recite the words she'd spelled out in a circle around the hero's feet. The reflective surface lit up like a muted, yellow sun. Willow felt its power in her veins, black and visible under her skin. As it shone brighter, Willow became darker. A familiar sensation poured from her scalp and her hair turned to black. The light extended outward and for a moment, Willow thought she might go blind. Squeezing her eyes tight didn't block out the pain. The room looked like it had been erased in yellow light. The witch screamed.

The mirror's light faded out. The spell had been cast. Superman was restored.