Who: Scott Free NPCs: Parademons, Aero-Troopers, Darkseid, Oberon, Thaddeus Brown, Shilo Norman What: Out of the frying pan and into the fire; Scott finally makes his escape from Apokolips only to end up on a foreign planet. Where: A field outside of Derby, CT where Mister Miracle and his troupe rehearse. When: 2000 Rating: PG
He could remember the last time he’d made it this far-- the only other time he’d made it this far; when the Boom Tube opened on some mysterious place blanketed in soft, powdery white hills and valleys as far as the eye could see. White dust was falling from the sky there and at first Scott had thought it was just more ash, until he felt the cold coming through the Boom Tube and permeating the Cargo Freighter that he’d hijacked in his escape attempt. The whole ship was bucking and pitching, having been abandoned by its unconscious pilot, whose Father Box was the source of the portal from which the cold was coming. Scott was spiriting across the floor of the ship, struggling to get to that cold place before the Boom Tube closed and before the hounds on his heels could get inside.
He was only ten feet from it when the hull of the ship was ripped apart by Barda, who was only ten feet behind and looking thoroughly pissed. In a few seconds though, it wouldn’t matter. He would be gone, someplace cold and beautiful.
He leapt for the Boom Tube. He was almost there. He caught some of the cold dust on his palm-- what Himon would later tell him was called snow.
And then was hit in the side with a blast from a Mega Rod.
“No! Nononono!! NO!” He shouted, trying to ignore his injury and clawed for the Boom Tube again, but it was too late. Despite not knowing what it was, Scott pressed the cool powder to his face and licked it off of his hand. It tasted sweet, and fresh, and clean-- and he almost forgot to put his arms over his head and the back of his neck until the Parademons and Aero-Troopers started beating and kicking his downed form.
~~~
That was the last time he’d been so close. This time, he was going to make it-- or die trying.
“Let me be Scott Free--” He yelled back at Darkseid, the Boom Tube opening in front of him. He was going to make it. He couldn’t believe he was going to make it. “And find myself!” He shouted. Not wasting another moment, Scott jumped through-- and was gone.
Everyone looked at Darkseid, whose steely granite face broke into a twisted approximation of a smirk.
“High Father’s son is no longer on Apokolips. The pact has been broken. Prepare for war with New Genesis. “
~~~
It was the strangest sensation. One minute he was on Apokolips, running from Darkseid’s forces that threatened to drag him back by his toes and the next he was somewhere else. He didn’t quite end up on his feet and stumbled, rolling head over foot through-- grass. Tall, brown grass.
Rough landing over, Scott lay on his back, looking up. There was sky... it was blue. Blue; not red or cloudy or covered in smog. And a star!
He jumped to his feet, still not sure he believed it-- was he actually off Apokolips?
“What in the world was that?!” Scott heard and quickly turned to look across the field at an older man with a well-kept grey beard, wearing a garish yellow, green and red costume along with a young black boy and another older man, missing most of his hair, who was only just over three feet tall.
“Where are we? What is this place?!” Scott asked frantically, still certain that Parademons and Furies were hot on his heels.
“Derby?” The boy supplied only to get nudged by the short one with admonishment,
“Don’t talk to ‘em, Shilo-- you don’t know what kind of crazy he’s got.”
“Derby? Not Apokolips?”
“There’s no Apocalypse ‘round here, fella- I think you’ve got the wrong field. “
No Apokolips. No Parademons. No Furies. No Darkseid.
His eyes widened and before he even knew what he was doing, Scott let out a victorious whoop, throwing his fists in the air before promptly falling to his knees. He’d done it. He’d done what no one else had ever done, what no one believed could be done. He’d done the impossible. He’d escaped from Apokolips.
“I did it. I did it.” He muttered to himself, his head leaned back, face towards the sky and breathing in the breeze from the field. “I did it, IdiditIdidit.” The short man pushed the boy behind him protectively, eyeballing the muttering man in the field. “Don’t go near him, Shilo. That guy’s off his rocker!”
The other man though, the one wearing the brightly colored outfit, didn’t hide. There was something in the young man’s posture, the gaunt, half-starved look of his face and the overpowering relief that had overtaken him that the older man recognized.
He approached cautiously and crouched a few feet from him, and Scott lifted his head when the old man spoke. “What’s your name, son?”
Scott blanched. His name... he actually started to laugh again, a sound that started off disbelieving and incredulous but actually turned to joy. Maybe Granny had picked him a good one after all.
“Scott. Scott Free.”
The old man seemed to think this name strange, but didn’t comment on it and nodded instead, “Thaddeus Brown.” He said, touching a hand to his chest, then waved over to the boy and the short man, “My ward, Shilo Norman, and my assistant, Oberon. “ Scott nodded in understanding and greeting towards Shilo and Oberon, who were both still feeling quite stand-offish, despite Thaddeus friendly greeting. “When was the last time you ate, Scott?” Brown asked quietly.
Scott tried to remember. He was certain that if he was given long enough, he could come up with the correct answer, but there were far too many things to see and smell and hear and touch and taste that weren’t heat and ash and smoke and decay that he wasn’t certain he could make himself focus. He shook his head instead of answering, but the gauntness of his features, the hollowness beneath his cheekbones and the way his clothes sagged off of his shoulders said it all for him.
After a moment of considering the young man in front of him, Thaddeus stood and offered his hand and helped Scott to his feet. “Come with us now, Scott,” Mister Miracle said, removing his cape and putting it around the young man’s shoulders as they started walking towards the car, “our little band of misfits could always use an extra stagehand.”
Oberon was puffing himself up for a good argument on this front, but Shilo, seeing that the danger had passed, grinned and leapt clean over Oberon to follow after the two men, leaving him with no one to vent his grumpiness towards.
Impudently, Oberon tapped his toe and crossed his arms over his chest- but finally jogged to catch up with the rest of the long-legged crew, shouting curses the whole way to the car.