Superboy / Kon-El (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
matchmadeinhell) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ya_assemble2014-11-29 05:37 pm
matchmadeinhell) wrote in ya_assemble2014-11-29 05:37 pm
Entry tags:
[LN] Livin' on a Prayer [closed to Nico]
"Tommy used to work on the docks
Union's been on strike
He's down on his luck...
It's touuuugh, so too-ouugh"
Kon was singing, his voice somewhat delirious and horribly off pitch because he generally couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.
Because why not, right? It felt good to belt it out. It was just sort of tumbling out of him.
It was monstrous, what happened in the training gym. Catastrophic. That was what happened when someone like Kon didn't hold back. Even at a more limited capacity than usual, he'd still wrecked the place; clockwork robot parts were strewn everywhere, some of the obstacles had been broken, although the magical fields that supported them at the higher training levels kept him from totally trashing them all.
He'd gone for about four hours with the thing set at the highest level, level 20, working himself into exhaustion and the program had finally registered that he was getting too beat up and stopped automatically, magically sensing that the workout was moving away from rigorous and bruise-ey to genuinely harmful.
"Gina works the diner all daaay
Working for her man,
She brings home her pay
For loooove, for loooooove"
Where he lay in his little impact crater in the wrecked floor, clothes tattered, sweating buckets, bleeding slightly from his eyes (his heatvision had been left flaring about an hour too long), Kon was lost in a haze of self-hatred. The abject rage had died down, but what was left was a sheen of self-loathing that'd been left behind like greasy residue in its place.
"She says, 'We've gotta hold on to what we've got.
It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not.
We've got each other and that's a lot.
For loooove we'll give. It. A shot.'"
It was funny how each time something horribly traumatic happened in his life, he kept thinking nothing could ever feel worse. Accidentally get some poor dude killed showboating and playing up the fame thing? Couldn't get worse. Get betrayed by some sick, psycho older woman who was toying with him? Couldn't get worse. Watch his first love die? Couldn't get worse. Lose a mentor? Couldn't get worse. Get conscripted to be a medic holding people's guts together in a war, get tortured on Apokolips, watch a friend get traumatized as a part of him died, get brainwashed and attack his friends, actually freakin' die...
It always got worse. The never-ending trauma congo line went on.
"Whoooooa, we're half way there
Whooooa, livin' on a prayer
Take my hand and we'll make it - I swear
Whooooa, livin' on a prayer!"
The gym was mostly soundproofed but anyone near the lower levels might have heard the thunderous booms and zappy noises from his training/smashing session, what with some of them shaking the foundation of the place. They'd gone quiet now. He'd forgotten to lock the door, which meant if anyone walked in they'd be forced to listen to his terrible singing.
Union's been on strike
He's down on his luck...
It's touuuugh, so too-ouugh"
Kon was singing, his voice somewhat delirious and horribly off pitch because he generally couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.
Because why not, right? It felt good to belt it out. It was just sort of tumbling out of him.
It was monstrous, what happened in the training gym. Catastrophic. That was what happened when someone like Kon didn't hold back. Even at a more limited capacity than usual, he'd still wrecked the place; clockwork robot parts were strewn everywhere, some of the obstacles had been broken, although the magical fields that supported them at the higher training levels kept him from totally trashing them all.
He'd gone for about four hours with the thing set at the highest level, level 20, working himself into exhaustion and the program had finally registered that he was getting too beat up and stopped automatically, magically sensing that the workout was moving away from rigorous and bruise-ey to genuinely harmful.
"Gina works the diner all daaay
Working for her man,
She brings home her pay
For loooove, for loooooove"
Where he lay in his little impact crater in the wrecked floor, clothes tattered, sweating buckets, bleeding slightly from his eyes (his heatvision had been left flaring about an hour too long), Kon was lost in a haze of self-hatred. The abject rage had died down, but what was left was a sheen of self-loathing that'd been left behind like greasy residue in its place.
"She says, 'We've gotta hold on to what we've got.
It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not.
We've got each other and that's a lot.
For loooove we'll give. It. A shot.'"
It was funny how each time something horribly traumatic happened in his life, he kept thinking nothing could ever feel worse. Accidentally get some poor dude killed showboating and playing up the fame thing? Couldn't get worse. Get betrayed by some sick, psycho older woman who was toying with him? Couldn't get worse. Watch his first love die? Couldn't get worse. Lose a mentor? Couldn't get worse. Get conscripted to be a medic holding people's guts together in a war, get tortured on Apokolips, watch a friend get traumatized as a part of him died, get brainwashed and attack his friends, actually freakin' die...
It always got worse. The never-ending trauma congo line went on.
"Whoooooa, we're half way there
Whooooa, livin' on a prayer
Take my hand and we'll make it - I swear
Whooooa, livin' on a prayer!"
The gym was mostly soundproofed but anyone near the lower levels might have heard the thunderous booms and zappy noises from his training/smashing session, what with some of them shaking the foundation of the place. They'd gone quiet now. He'd forgotten to lock the door, which meant if anyone walked in they'd be forced to listen to his terrible singing.
no subject
If it came up, maybe, but that was creepy for intros.
"I hurt your friend. Back home. Or a version of her, anyway. I mean I botched the job - I always tried to botch the job the times they sent me out to capture somebody and disappear 'em for Uncle Sam - but I still hurt her. I had to stop thinking about that for a while or it would've killed me. I had to think 'I made it so that one got away, even if I pounded them.' Or 'one terrorist down means they won't trigger my teke to explode a whole village.'"
He went on, his voice going soft as he said the words that have become survival mantra. "'Three or three hundred.' You - you have to cause a little hurt but you can stop the big hurt. Three or three hundred. But hurt's still hurt and now that I can think about that I can't stop."
Tears welled up in his eyes. "She looked like a living painting. She's an alien like me. She's friends with a little girl who gives hugs to anyone who needs 'em and wears little bunny hats and I let her walk away, I did, but...she's real now. They all are."
no subject
This guy's problems? Way beyond hers. As far out of her frame of reference as hers had been to the other, normal kids. She thought hard -- what had she always wanted from them? Sympathy? An answer, any answer at all?
"Look. I can't--" Nico shook her head, started over. "I can't offer you forgiveness. I can't judge you. I can't tell you how to fix what's already happened. I can't give you back your innocence, I can't give you your life from before back because its gone; it's gone and no one can ever give it back to you. But I don't think what they made you do is your fault. And I can pull that thing out of you so that you don't have to choose between three or three hundred."
She paused, biting her lip. "And you can choose from there how you make them pay."
no subject
On the one hand, he was always, constantly, terrified of what they might do to him or try to make him do. On the other hand, after being that battered and messed up in the head, he was terrified of being able to make his own choices again.
What if he was too broken to make the right ones anymore?
no subject
If Noh-Varr had hit anyone but Xavin, they'd be dead. She hadn't objected to Vision fixing him up when he took his arm back, and leaving Noh-Varr unsupervised after.
"You ready?"
no subject
But that was how it'd always been, hadn't it? From the second he busted out of his test tube.
He lay there for a moment longer, then nodded, shakily.
Standing up slowly, wiping at his eyes, he said, "It's a nanochain in my torso, kinda threaded through the major nerves." Didn't that sound pleasant? "Also implants in my eyes and ears to monitor what I see and hear."
So that if he ever tried to communicate for help, they'd know.
He held out his arms, waiting.
no subject
Nico licked her lips again and readjusted her grip on the Staff. No pressure, it was just some kind of technology from another universe wound around important parts of his body. Could the myth-level healing abilities they'd been granted fix nerve damage? Destroyed eyes? Not to mention that she'd found out from their trip through time that the Leapfrog had been specifically shielded from the affects of her family's magic. They sent him after Karolina, had they known enough about her to do the same to his nanochain?
She narrowed her eyes. The Witchbreaker had said that more pain meant more power. So if she just focused as hard as she could on her worst memory...
She pointed the Staff of One at him, reaching into her memory instead of looking at the marks left on his face by bloody tears.
"Off leash."
no subject
The nanochain flew out of his body like a small snake, a tiny little mass of threads, splitting off from each other like nerve dendrites. It was much thinner and smaller than he expected. How could his life have been controlled by such a little thing? Out of his eyes and ears came tiny, tiny little devices, floating in her direction.
They didn't seem to cause any damage leaving his body.
The moment they were gone, he let out a little gasp, one part elation - and one part panic.
no subject
She looked down at the instruments of control in her hand, giving him a moment to collect himself. Maybe she should have reached out, but she wouldn't know where to start. She was practically a stranger.
It was kind of amazing how bad something so small could be.
"You okay?"
no subject
But his capacity for it hadn't broken and it was all there underneath. It just sometimes took some time for it bubble its way up to the surface, carving out the well-worn paths that came of being the kind of person that wore his heart on his sleeve, clearing away the muck and debris a little more each time.
When it finally registered that it was gone, that it was in her hand instead of inside himself, he let himself feel the relief of it. For so long he'd had to hide those parts of himself and while it was embarrassing to let it out, he didn't have to hide it now.
The tears started first, dripping down his face, and then he dropped down to his knees, holding a hand over his eyes, breath coming in rapid gasps. It was clearly something he just needed to do, letting the pain - and the joy - out.
And there was joy. In fact, he started laughing. It was slightly deranged, off-kilter, hysterical laughter, but also giddy, irreverent, joyous laughter. It was the kind of laughter that told you what kind of person someone was, if they were laughing that way during a moment like this.
He'd had enough goodness in him to be hurt this badly, but he had enough joy and resilience and defiance that it practically beamed out through the hurt.
"No!" he cried out to Nico in between laughter. "No, I'm not okay."
More laughter. "I can be not okay!"
He didn't have to just rise up each time after he got smacked down and pretend he was made of stone to avoid getting knocked down again.
no subject
"You're right," she said awkwardly. "Stupid question."
She set the foot of the Staff back down on the floor instead of holding it aloft one-handed. The metallic snck was probably lost under his laughter though. She tightened her grip on the implants, unsure of what to do next.
"Is there...someone you want me to call?"
no subject
He just needed a minute. Just a minute.
"Is it okay if I hug you?"
He...he needed to hug her. Just once.
"Just once."
no subject
...Yeah, no, there was no way he was kidding. And really, there was no way that she could really turn him down without being a total jerk. It wasn't like she didn't do hugs or anything. Nico sighed.
"Only if you don't crush my ribs and internal organs. And--" she added quickly, "only if your girlfriend isn't the jealous type, because I am so not dealing with that right now."
no subject
He flew over and hugged her, squeezing her in a giant bear hug that lifted her right off the ground, but to his credit, nothing snapped. Nothing even hurt. It most likely felt like just a rowdy hug from an older cousin.
He'd spent a whole life learning to be strong and learning to be gentle and that much was clear as he hugged her.
He put her down and looked her in the eye, hands resting lightly on her shoulders.
"Thank you. Thank you so much."
He held out his hands for the nanochain and surveillance devices.
"Can I have those? I - I need to figure out if I should torch them or throw them out of the atmosphere so they burn on re-entry. Or launch them into the sun. So many choices."
no subject
Yep, that was her feet leaving the floor. But none of her bones creaked and he didn't jam the Staff into her ribs or compress them all that badly or anything. And, well, it was kind of nice. Apparently, he'd put some study into the art of the hug.
"No problem," she said, ducking her head at his thanks. "I'm-- yeah, I'm just glad I got to do it before you snapped back or something."
She glanced down at her hand with the nanochain and implants in them and held them out for him to take back. "I'd personally suggest you take it back to the people who put it in you and make them choke on it, but I'm not a very nice person."
no subject
He looked at the nanochain and thought, just for a moment, what it might be like to stuff the thing inside him with his teke, to find some way to make it trigger, to -
No. No, he didn't have to go to that place anymore.
He turned away from Nico, tossed the devices into the air and blasted them to nothing with his heatvision. Not even dust was left.
Then he stood there, hands clenched at his sides.
"No, I'm gonna - I'm gonna get him in front of a court. And I'm gonna tell them what he ordered done to me. And I'm gonna make it so the whole world sees him get strapped to that electric chair or strapped in to get that lethal injection, and then he gets to be small. He gets to be the one trapped. And that way everyone can see that - that there's supposed to be rules. The good kind. The kind that you don't follow just because, the kind that you follow because people are better off for it."
no subject
no subject
The gratitude was palpable. It was a force of nature more than a feeling.
"I already got your back just like I do for everyone else here but if you ever need an extra favor..."