Adventures of Superguy

July 8, 2010 - Happy Harbor, RI

Mt. Justice

18:19:38

Well, this is boring…

He was already sick of TV on this Earth, not that he had really cared much for it back home. Connor got up from the broad, U shaped couch that wrapped around the third level lounge of the Cave, an expansive room that combined the living room and kitchen. A massive flat screen dominated one wall, faced by the couch, which backed up against the open plan kitchen. He passed through the kitchen, with its wrap-around counter, island, and a commercial grade cooktop. Stainless steel appliances littered the place, everything shiny and brand new out of the box, the whole place was as yet untouched.

It kind of felt like being in a brand new and empty hotel, by yourself. Except no windows.

Everyone else had left hours ago; Batwoman and Robin headed back to Gotham City, Kaldura and Aquawoman had diplomatic meetings to attend, and the Martian Manhunter and M’gann had gone home to pack up her belongings. The rest of the Guild members had departed on their own errands; only Black Canary told him hers. She had to go back to Star City and begin her own packing. He had given her a hug, since she looked so downtrodden about it.

Mom had the same look, packing up the house.

Wonder Woman hadn’t stormed off, but had quietly departed through the Zeta-Tubes, waving everyone else off. It had hurt to see her so distraught. He couldn’t imagine that she really deserved what Trojan dealt out. Talking to Walli about it hadn’t helped much; she was reluctant to tell him that much of what had happened before the team found him beyond what she had already shared.

“Donnie and Diana have a… different relationship than me and Jesse, or Robin and Bats. I don’t want to tell stories.” She had insisted, and Connor hadn’t felt it was appropriate to pry deeper. 

So whatever that was about, it's between Diana and him. I kind of wish Walli had said less; now I just want to know more! But that’s just descending into gossip at that point. They say comic books are just soap operas with superpowers, and they would be right in this case.

After his inconclusive questioning, he had asked Walli about her campus visit at Stanford, and she had disappeared into the Zeta-Tube at maximum speed. Superhearing had let him hear her cursing the time and “boy drama” for making her late.

Then there had been only a quick trip back to Central City to pick up his stuff (now neatly packed into a matching set of suitcases, with Rudy’s considerable help), bid goodbye to the West’s for now, and moved into his chosen room at the Cave. Which had just been putting his clothes away and familiarizing himself with the amenities. They had the lounge, private bathrooms for each bedroom, but communal showers. Male and female, so it seemed like he’d have the men’s all to himself. The gym was fantastically advanced and anachronistic at the same time; a full set of professional exercise equipment like you’d find at any high class gym, right next to super science machines that looked like sleek industrial presses for testing and exercising super strength.

He had been tempted to start putting himself through his paces, to see all he could do, but there were warning labels on all the super science stuff to only use while under supervision by trained technicians. One machine claimed to have an upper limit of quintillions of tons, so he left well enough alone. Next, he wandered down into the base level, hopping through the drop chute to give a booming three point landing just for fun. There was an empty hangar, another set of Zeta-Tubes, a fancy docking bay and a massive door that opened into the coastal waters, and the front door. 

The name didn’t do the concealed blast door justice. It retracted into the ceiling and let one up a ramp into the forested environs that surrounded Mt. Justice. Everyone had gone already, so he elected to stretch his legs and venture outside his new home. He had followed footpaths through the forest to the coastal cliffs, and leaped down onto the rocky shore to enjoy the sunshine and sea breeze. 

It all felt so familiar. 

He remembered summers on Cape Cod with his parents, beach days that had grown much less frequent as he got older and sicker. Lobster boils and Fourth of July fireworks shows. 

Shit, I missed the Fourth of July. Well, I guess I didn’t miss it. I did hear a little of the fireworks when we got out of Cadmus. 

It was strangeness upon strangeness.

He had died in that bed in Boston Children’s Hospital. But then he woke up in the pod at Cadmus. Now it was months later, but it was an entirely different universe! He had a different body now, a half-Kryptonian clone, one filled with power and most importantly, a health he had never experienced. Yet, somehow, the most disquieting change of all was the seasons. It had been a cold and dreary March when he died, and now it was a warm and humid July. Growing up and spending half his time in hospitals with other sick kids, he had known a few who had been in comas. The way they talked about waking up one day to discover months or years had gone by suddenly made much more sense.

How can any of this be real?

All logic insisted that it couldn’t be. Even if multiversal theory was real, and somewhere in the infinite multiverse there was a world that corresponded directly to this version of comic book logic, how could he have come to rest here? Once more, he felt it had to be some kind of dying delusion, a final bittersweet dream of everything he wanted and wasn’t possible.

No, that can’t be right either. Mom and Dad would be here too, happy together, and we’d all still be a family. 

Tears welled up in eyes, and he rubbed at them to drive them away. Laughing bitterly to himself, he faced the rolling surf and the shining sun, hearing the cries of distant gulls and the beating of the waves upon the rocks. It was so beautiful, such a perfect day, that he let the tears come and simply watched as the endless tide rolled in and out, and felt the sunshine warm his face. After a long time, he didn’t know how long, he came to a conclusion.

I don’t care anymore. If its not real, I’d rather be here than the alternative. 

Then he stripped, leaving his clothes in a pile wrapped in the Jacket, tucked under a rock, and took a running leap into the sea as far as his superpowered legs could carry him, whooping the whole time. Hurtling through the air, he cried with the sheer joy of it and plunged into the water feet first, knifing down to the bottom. He planted his feet in the silty and rocky water, and leaped again, bursting from the water like a human missile in a massive geyser of water. He did it again and again, delighting in the sensation of power and lightness his strength gave him.

Eventually he tired of it, and swam out to sea, with no fear at all. He had always been a strong swimmer, when he was healthy enough to do it, and now his strength for it felt endless. He torpedoed through the water, slicing through the currents effortlessly. Eventually he was content, and floated on his back on the surface, soaking in the rays and enjoying the dichotomy of the cold ocean water and the warm sun. He let the waves slowly carry him back to shore, smiling, and if his face was wet and salty it was probably just the seawater. Making it back to the empty shore, he climbed out of the water and felt freshly baptized, and found a boulder to stretch out on and let the afternoon sun and wind dry him.

This is going to take some getting used to. Things that should be uncomfortable just aren’t; diving a hundred feet down and jumping back out, lying on this sun baked rock, going barefoot on the rocks. I’m not invulnerable; or, at least, not completely. The Docbuster and the Terrors certainly kicked the crap out of me, and they were pulverizing steel reinforced concrete and pancaking cars. Is it bad that putting my hand on a hot stove won’t hurt me? I won’t react because it won’t cause pain, but I guess it also wouldn’t do any damage. Things that DO damage definitely still hurt.Good thing I heal pretty fast.

Indeed, the bruises and scrapes from fighting the Terror Twins had already faded away like a bad dream, just as the battering he’d taken from Docbuster had. 

Maybe all this sunbathing will help that too, and power me up faster.

All signs from the information downloaded telepathically at Cadmus pointed to ‘no’ on that. The solar suit and pod had been designed to accelerate his absorption of yellow sun radiation, but a Kryptonian under a yellow sun only absorbed so much so fast. Superwoman (and Superman, according to the comics) had started off as a pretty normal human child, developing their powers as they grew and they absorbed more yellow sun radiation. The Project’s cloning had necessitated a much more rapid process involving the suit, pod and other unnamed things, but the only way to make use of that now would be to go back into the pod and sleep for months or years while his body absorbed more yellow sun radiation. The only cure was time.

I’ve had enough of lying in bed ‘for my own good’ for TWO lifetimes. I’m plenty strong now, and I’ll get stronger too. As strong as Superwoman is, one day. 

Well, IF she isn’t also getting stronger all the time. Which she certainly is.

Finally dry, he stood up and dusted sand off his body, and went wandering up the beach to find the rock he had tucked his clothes under. Dressing again, he could feel the sea salt still stuck to him, but realized it couldn’t abraid his skin so he wouldn’t be chafing anytime soon. 

Another lesser known Kryptonian power!Super Chafe Immunity!

The sun was beginning to set behind him, darkness already peaking up beyond the horizon out to sea. He had whiled away the whole afternoon. Fishing boats, yachts and whale watchers were steaming back towards the eponymous Happy Harbor, and he decided to join them. 

Mt. Justice sat just outside Happy Harbor’s municipal limits, and it wasn’t far to reach the town itself. Taking another running leap, he headed inland and quickly got the hang of it. Each leap took him about an ⅛ of a mile, and around a hundred yards in the air at the apex of his jump. Every landing came with a crash and a crater, and for some reason the physics of that bothered him.

I’m barely 200 lbs, and I’m way stronger than that size suggests. I must be more dense in order to be this tough, so why don’t I weigh any more? If I don’t weigh any more, why do I hit like I have all this mass? Almost like I only have the mass when it comes time to land.

He didn’t understand it, and it all felt counter intuitive, so he elected to ignore it.

The nerds on the internet would be screaming if they knew! But fuck it; meta-human powers don’t make sense, even if you call it ‘tactile telekinesis’. If I had that, where does all the energy I exert come from? A human body can’t absorb all that from solar radiation. I declare myself to be made of handwavium.

Laughing to himself, he reached the edge of town and decided he should try the whole ‘hiding in plain sight’ thing. He took off the Jacket, and tied it around his waist (inside out, since the symbol of the House of El on the Jacket might make it a little too memorable) and walked into a Sunglass Igloo. Browsing the glasses available, he found a pair of delicately framed round lenses that made him grin, but settled on a dull looking pair of aviator framed glasses with transition lenses. Looking at himself in the mirror, a faint feeling of nostalgia rolled over him like the sea breeze.

Dad wore glasses like this. Good for looking forgettable.

Putting on his purchase, he walked the evening streets of Happy Harbor. A small town, it clearly lived off of vacationers and its tiny native fishing fleet. He had seen a few office and industrial parks on the municipal limits, but like any number of beach towns in New England, many of the houses were no doubt vacation properties and second homes. The town probably half-emptied in the winter, but now it was in its tourist season, and places like the Bowl-O-Rama and the Mason Family Ice Cream Shop were full of locals and tourists enjoying the night life.

Little shops selling antiques and tourist kitsch lined the Main Street, and he bought a powder blue Hawaiian shirt on impulse, putting it on over his Superboy tee with the last few buttons left open. Stopping at a hole in the wall fish-n-chips place that had grease baked into the wooden walls of the shack, he treated himself to a greasy cardboard tray full of fried cod and twice fried french fries, and exulted in the salty, greasy mess of it. Afterwards, he got in line at the ice cream shop and bought a waffle cone. A couple of girls who were probably still in high school tried chatting him up, which brought him back to the differences in his new home.

Matriarchy is… weird. It doesn’t feel bad, but nobody who isn’t wearing a costume or driving a tank is a threat to me. I hope I get used to it all, eventually.

It was hard to imagine he ever would. This was only his third time spending time around ‘normal’ people on this Earth, and it felt like his brain kept hitting stumbling blocks. Middle aged moms wearing polos, cargo shorts and socks with sandals. Their husbands in flowy silk shirts and yoga pants. Younger kids were mostly androgynous and dressed in t-shirts and shorts, or sundresses, or just oversized shirts that looked like tunics. Teenagers reinforced the reversed gender roles; girls in board shorts and graphic tees, boys in tank tops and short shorts. The boys clustered in protective flocks while girls egged one another on to approach them with cheesy lines and suggestions about getting ‘better acquainted’.

Again and again, he found himself staring and had to turn away when someone noticed. It got him a few stares back, and more than one cat call from girls his age, and once a middle aged woman who clearly had too much to drink. Suddenly self conscious, he decided retreat was the better route and just walked away each time. 

Girls are trying to flirt with me. A year ago, I would have been pumped for that. Now it feels like way too much. I barely know how to flirt, let alone be flirted with. 

Deciding that was enough social interaction for the day, he followed the sound of cars and blaring radio advertisements, and found the Happy Harbor Drive-In, a classic Americana staple. Unlike the ones he had been to in his old life, which were mostly decaying relics of nostalgia, this one appeared far better maintained. Its buildings and equipment all looked out of the sixties, but appeared brand new or at least lovingly well maintained. Lacking a car, he hopped the fence when no one was looking, and made up for his lack of a ticket by splurging at the concession stand. Once more, he waited for a quiet moment and lightly hopped up to the second story roof, and settled in to watch the double feature.

Watching movies by himself, surrounded by other people, made him feel a bit lonely.

I should bring the team here, for some team bonding. We’ll need to rent a car or something. Maybe Robin can borrow the Bat-Mobile…

The thought made him absurdly excited, even if it was unlikely. Batwoman seemed pretty humorless, and it made him once more reflect on the vast gulf between following superheroes as fictional characters and meeting them in real life. Batwoman was a zealot dedicated to her cause, and since he knew her origin, he could appreciate that and how dedicated she was. That didn’t make her very easy to deal with in real life; she had a quiet intensity that felt like she was dissecting you with her eyes. 

She probably is; figuring out contingencies to take down everyone she meets. I bet if she wasn’t carrying kryptonite for Superwoman all the time, she’s probably carrying some for me when I’m around. Shit, I hope that stuff is pretty rare. Some comics make it sound like kryptonite grows on trees.

Having to worry about the possibility of criminals buying kryptonite on Ebay made him giggle again, and he finished his popcorn as the opening for the second movie began. The first movie was an action flick, but with a mostly female cast who were swaggering, oiled and muscled military vets coming back together for one last job. Entertaining enough, especially since women having their shirts off was apparently totally fine, unlike him having his shirt off in the Cave. So female action stars with no shirts on, firing machine guns for a tight hour and twenty minutes was decent entertainment. The second movie turned out to be a rom com, and the reversed gender roles quickly made the piece totally disconcerting, so he decided to duck out early.

It was also getting hard to ignore the amorous sounds coming from far too many cars for his liking.

How does Superwoman deal with it? I gotta ask her for tips.

Slipping away in the darkness, he dumped his trash in the bins and once more hopped the fence, and decided to simply wander Happy Harbor at night, the warmth of the day bleeding away into the cool of night. Heading away from downtown, he passed bungalows and cottages filled with vacationers. It was still the holiday week of the Fourth, so the places were all filled up. Backyards and decks had people hanging out, drinking, laughing, and occasionally lighting off fire crackers. 

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes as he pounded the pavement, and let the sounds of Happy Harbor wash over him. Voices, AC compressors, electrical whines, dogs barking, people snoring who had already turned in for the night. It was a vast ocean of sound that came to him; each individual sound a ripple on that surface until it pinged against him and bounced back. By focusing on that ping and the bounce back, he could follow each sound back to its source. Sitting up in a tree, he spent an hour or two doing just that.

Following a voice in his mind’s eye back to the speaker. Picking one car out of all the others and tracking it as it rumbled along the quiet streets. Counting each individual squirrel as they clambered up and down a tree to forage. Hearing each wave as it formed out on the ocean and then slowly built up momentum and foaming as it crashed against the beach. 

Occasionally he heard something he shouldn’t; a whispered private conversation that he quickly snapped away from. Moans from a bedroom that made his cheeks redden. A couple of teenagers sneaking out of their rented accommodation to smoke pot in the woods.

Then he heard it; the sharp crack of a hand against a face, and a startled cry of pain and shock, a tumbling fall. A raised voice, slurring its words, and a trembling entreaty for calm. The crack again, more shouting, and now a terrified crying.

Connor went cold, and his guts clenched. His eyes remained closed, a distraction to be ignored as he focused on his hearing, and he began to trace the sound back to its origin. The crack came again, and this time he flinched, gritting his teeth and balling his fists. In a moment, he found the origin, and he stood up from his perch on a tree branch, his back against the trunk. But doubt assailed him.

Should I be doing this?

Batwoman had put him and Kid Quick on double super secret probation after the Incident at the Center City Shopping Center. Officially, he was a part of the team now and to be deployed on missions. ‘Big stuff’ the Guild would handle itself, and he had no mission right now. 

Nobody said I could patrol. Nobody said I couldn’t, either. They probably stuck us in Happy Harbor because what’s gonna happen here?

A bitter thought occurred as he heard the crack again.

Same stuff that happens everywhere.

What would Superman do?

There was no question.

Beneath him, the tree branch snapped off as he leapt through the canopy and into the night air. As he flew, he yanked the Hawaiian shirt off, bursting the buttons and revealing the gold bordered, black background and red S on his shirt. He untied the Jacket and slipped it back on, tucking the sunglasses into the breast pocket before he landed.

This looks like a job for…

********

“Where the fuck do you get off mouthing off to me?! Huh?! I work hard, I put food on the table, I even take you on a nice fucking vacation, and you wanna get on my back because I wanna enjoy myself?!” Niccoletta spat out, her words slurring as she did.

“I’m sorry, Niccy, I’m sorry…” Jamie cried out from the floor where she had knocked him down. He clutched his face, his eye and cheek already bruising, tears pouring down his face.

“You’re goddess-damned right you’re sorry! I’m the authority in this fucking house, and I don’t need you fucking needling me all the damned time. I’m gonna teach you a lesson!” She said, as she stalked toward her prone husband, who curled up into  the fetal position as she raised her hand again, covering his head with his hands.

The attempt at self defense only enraged her further, and her red face turned crimson with rage as she seized one of his wrists and dragged him to his feet, shouting incoherently at him. She raised her other hand to knock some sense into him-

When the door to their rented bungalow burst open, the thin wood splintering and leaving it hanging off the hinges as a strange man in a red leather jacket invaded the room, fists clenched at his side.

“Hold it!” he shouted, and she saw even through her double vision that he was just a kid. Big for a boy, but young. His fists were clenched like he wanted a fight and he shouted like he expected to be obeyed.

“What d’you want?” She asked dumbly, not quite processing what she was being interrupted by.

“Let him go, and back off!” The boy shouted. He was wearing a weird Superwoman t-shirt under the obnoxious red leather motorcycle jacket. The kid thought he was some kind of hero.

“Don’t get tough, boy!” Nicoletta snarled at him, releasing Jamie as she faced the intruder. Jamie fell back to the ground and scrambled back, terrified both by his wife and the home invader. As he moved, Nicoletta turned her attention back to her retreating husband and darted back at him.

In a flash, the intruder was across the room and with one hand he seized Nicolleta by the front of her shirt and hoisted her up in the air. Jamie gasped with shock at the sight, but Nicoletta only huffed and grunted, grabbing the stranger’s wrist with one hand and shoving her other into his face and clawing at his eyes. WIth contemptuous ease, the stranger hurled her across the room and she smashed into the dated wood paneling and through it, landing in a heap next to the kitchen with a crash.

At the sight of the violence, Jamie screamed, still crying and the stranger turned to him. The sudden attention only made Jamie cringe back, covering his mouth and backing up against the wall. The stranger raised a placating hand but Jamie only drew his knees up and stared in fear at him.

The distraction was enough for Nicoletta, who pulled herself out of the hole in the cheap wood wall of the bungalow, and scrambled for the butcher’s block and drew out a gleaming knife and rushed the stranger.

“Y’asked for it!” She shouted as she plunged the knife down at his back, and Jamie screamed in horror at the unfolding scene.

Both of them were stunned when the knife shattered into pieces against the stranger’s back. As he turned around, Nicoletta was frozen in place, staring at the shattered stub of a blade in her hand and the glittering shards on the carpet. Her face went pale as she met the stranger’s gaze, and she numbly dropped the knife handle and began to back away. 

The stranger stalked toward her and she began to tremble as she saw the anger in his eyes.

“And now you’re going to get a lesson you’ll never forget!” He declared as he raised his fist, but no blow ever came, as Niccoletta fainted dead away. She fell forward and the stranger caught her in bemusement before she face planted.

“Fainted…” He said.

“Don’t hurt her!” Jamie cried from his protective crouch.

The stranger gaped at him, still holding Nicoletta’s boneless form. He stared at Jamie for a long moment, then laid Nicoletta down on her side, more gently than she deserved. Then he raised his hands in peace to Jamie.

“I’m not gonna hurt her. Are you ok?” The intruder said with a sigh after a calming breath.

“I, I, I’m…” Jamie gasped out as his heart beat a mile a minute, fear and humiliation warring in him. 

“Just take a deep breath. I came in because I heard her hitting you. I’m… a superhero.” He finished, tripping over the last bit.

Looking down at the shattered knife and the hole his wife had made when the stranger had thrown her across the room, Jamie believed it. Shame burned his face, cooled only by his tears. That someone else had heard what Nicoletta had done to him, that they had seen…

Jamie brought his knees back up this chin and put his head down and just sobbed, hugging himself. After a few minutes of heart wrenching sobs, the stranger quietly approached and put a hand on his shoulder. Jamie flinched, but the young man’s hand didn’t waver, and he spoke comfort.

“It’s okay, its not your fault.” He said quietly, and the tenderness in his voice only made Jamie sob harder.

Outside, the wail of a siren came and red and blue lights flickered through the trees that bordered the bungalow’s lot. The stranger tensed, but then looked back down at Jamie, who only cried miserably, and relaxed. He stayed there, a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, as the distraught man leant into it and the police arrived.

********

Connor sighed as he watched the ambulance drive Mr. Jamie Jackson-Owens away to Happy Harbor Medical Center. Mrs. Nicoletta Jackson-Owens had already been driven away in another ambulance, cuffed to the gurney, though just as a precaution. His throw had been quite mild, in his opinion, but as he had just discovered, normal humans were very fragile to him now. Everything around him felt like it was made of cardboard.

“We checked with our Justice Guild liaison, and your story checks out, uh, ‘Superguy’.” Officer Bethany Lee said as she put away her cellphone. She was young for a cop, Caucasian, with black hair tightly braided and coiled to keep it out of the way, and green eyes. Pretty, especially if you liked a woman in uniform. Connor did not particularly like a woman in uniform, as this one had spent the last hour threatening to arrest him.

“Thank you, Officer Lee.” He said tersely, forcing a brittle smile on his face.

Her eyes narrowed as she took stock of his reply.

“Regardless of whether the Guild sanctions your ‘activities’, in Happy Harbor, I’m the law. If you ‘hear’ about any more domestic violence incidents, do the right thing and call 911.” She said equally tersely, holding eye contact for a moment in a challenging fashion. The other cops present had finally finished their assigned standing around and piled back into their cruisers and were departing.

After a moment she breathed a sigh and broke the contact, and her stiffened body language relaxed somewhat.

“That being Happy Harbor PD’s official position on the matter. I appreciate you stepping in when you did, and the restraint you showed.” Officer Lee said much more softly and congenially, like she was talking to a coworker rather than a suspect.

Connor’s eyebrows raised at the sudden change in attitude, and also noted the departure of her fellow officers before it came about.

“Well… thanks.” He said, not sure how to proceed from there on their new footing.

“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t. The chief isn’t excited about you and your friends moving back to the mountain, and the Guild assured her this kind of thing wasn’t going to be a thing. And now the very next day, here we are.” Officer Lee said with an eyeroll.

“Ah. I see the problem. Honestly, officer, I wasn’t looking for trouble. I just came out to get dinner and see a movie. Then I heard this sh-stuff, and I couldn’t ignore it.” Connor said, crossing his arms defensively.

“I figure the S you’re wearing means you’re connected with Superwoman? Makes sense if you can’t help but hear this kind of thing.” She said speculatively.

“Yeah, connected… I’ve got the super hearing, if that’s what you mean. It's hard to ignore something like this. There’s not much else happening in your town, which is good, I guess.”

“Ha, yeah. Summer is our busy season, drunk tourists causing trouble is our bread and butter.” She added, companionably.

Connor frowned, the wheels turning in his head.

“Do you think he’ll-” 

“Don’t count on it, kid. See it all the time. Domestic violence is ugly and persistent. People say they’d never let their spouse hit them once, but then it happens and they have to reckon with breaking up a marriage, a family over it. That’s scary, and they justify it to themselves a lot of the time. But lots of them are afraid of their abuser, and don’t think they can get away.” Officer Lee explained bitterly, anticipating his question.

Connor’s frown deepened and he looked at his feet, ugly feelings twisting his guts upon hearing Officer Lee’s jaded take on it.

Did I just make it worse? If I did, I should have given her some of her own medicine. 

Anger curdled in him. She would get away with it if her husband didn’t press charges, or even leave her. The Jackson-Owens didn’t live here, they were vacationing. They’d be gone home, one way or another, in a few days. Even if he pressed charges, they’d have to come back here for the case. The likelihood of the victim wanting to keep going forward with it and coming back to Rhode Island to pursue charges seemed low.

What a fucking mess…

“Looks like your Guild liaison is here.” Officer Lee said, indicating something behind him with her head.

“My-” Connor began as he turned, and then saw the scarlet cape billowing behind her as Superwoman came in for a gentle landing in the grass of the bungalow’s front yard. She still radiated disapproval as she looked at him, but she nodded respectfully to Officer Lee, who threw her a lazy salute and headed for her own cruiser. Leaving Connor alone with the Woman of Steel, who put her hands on her hips and stared him down.

Fuck me, I’d have preferred Batwoman. She just glowers at you and gives cutting remarks. Superwoman keeps making me feel like she just caught me kicking a puppy.

He sighed; might as well take his lumps now.

“I guess I’m in trouble, then?” He asked.

“Why do you assume you’re in trouble?” Superwoman asked sincerely.

Connor frowned, confused by the question. He waved towards the bungalow and Officer Lee’s departing cruiser.

“I assumed I’m not supposed to be out here fighting crime on my own?” He explained tentatively.

“The Guild accepted you and the team as members under supervision. If we didn’t think you were capable of the job, we wouldn’t have done that.” Superwoman said reproachfully, which felt at odds with her statement. 

So am I capable enough, or not? And I should know I am? 

He wracked his brain to figure out what the problem was. Then he realized she had questioned his assumption he was in trouble, and hadn’t stated he was.

“So I’m not in trouble?”

Superwoman frowned a little, but shook her head.

“No, you’re not in trouble, Connor. But the Guild would like to see you properly trained before you operate on your own, even in an emergency fashion.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. But then his confusion returned.

“So why are you up here, then? Officer Lee said they had checked me out and its good, everything’s wrapped up…” He rambled on.

“I came to check on you.” She said simply.

His heart skipped a beat. Superwoman’s head moved almost imperceptibly, and he feared she had heard it. He reached for control over himself.

“Well, I appreciate it.” He said, coughing into his hand nervously. “But obviously I’m fine. She didn’t even scratch the jacket.” 

“That’s not what I meant. You’re brand new to this life, these powers, this world. Batwoman checked your card’s purchases; you really were out on the town. You weren’t looking for trouble or patrolling. But you found it anyway, and you decided to intervene. Why?”

The question was deceptively simple, as was his immediate answer.

Because that’s what Superman would do.

But he wasn’t sure that Superwoman would appreciate that response.

“I was working on my super hearing, on separating sounds out. I heard… I heard her hit him. I heard him crying. Begging her to stop, saying he was sorry… I couldn’t let it happen.” He said with growing determination, and anger as he recalled hearing the violence and despair.

Superwoman nodded, letting silence hang as she composed her reply.

“That’s part of being me. I hear things every day, all the time. Things I’d like to intervene with, but I can’t. Or I won’t. Not everything requires Superwoman, even bad things. But there’s plenty that does, and I can’t get to them all, Connor.” She said, with great weight and in that moment, he truly perceived the burden she bore. 

She can hear all the evil in the world, but even with all her strength, she can’t do something about most of it. God, that must be horrible. I hope my hearing doesn’t grow that keen.

After a moment of such thinking, he asked the question burning a hole in his heart.

“How do you do it? Ignore some, save others? Where’s the line?” He asked, his voice growing quiet with the enormity of the problem.

“I could spend all day, every day, saving everyone I could. I don’t really need to sleep, or eat. At top speed, with the Watchtower computer feeding me the fastest routes and dispatching me to priority targets. I could give up my job, my home life, socializing, even this conversation. I would save a lot more people if I did.” She said it with quiet concern and dignity, but he could see how much that burden bore her down. The awful weight of that responsibility, it defined her. He marveled at the strength it took to bear that, a weight far beyond quintillions of tons. 

His voice was a hoarse whisper as he arrived at the answer himself.

“You can’t save them all.” 

She shook her head sadly.

“No, I can’t.”

In that moment, tears welled in his eyes and he began to understand what it meant to be Superwoman. For all her power, her awareness, her speed; the world was simply too much. She could give up everything else and only save people, she would save so many only to hear the dying screams of the ones she couldn’t at the same time. It was maddening, a trolley paradox beyond reckoning. Every position on the track switch killed someone else, and every death was a choice.

Connor slumped to his knees, unable to bear that burden himself.

Because one day, it would be his. The mind palace showed him his growth projections. He would surpass Superwoman some day, and projections indicated he would gain flight, senses, and speed too one day. Then the terrible choices would be his to make.

He turned to her with tearful eyes.

“How?” He mouthed, his throat unable to make the words come out.

For the first time since he had arrived in this world, Superwoman looked upon him with compassion, and she put her hand on his shoulder. It was like the hand of judgement, terrible in its weight but infinitely merciful in balancing the scales of justice. Heavy enough to crush him, strong enough to help bear him back up. As they came level again, she gazed into his eyes.

“By doing what you did tonight. By caring about people enough to make a choice. The choice to help. To do the things you can, to accept the things you can’t, and the wisdom to know the difference. There will be days where it feels like too much, that all things you can’t do pile on your back and grind you into the dirt. But every day you choose to get back up and shoulder that burden, to carry it forward and save someone else, that is how you become a hero. By doing that, you honor all the ones you couldn’t save. It won’t be easy, it won’t be hard, it’ll be a million times worse than hard could ever be. Some days you won’t be able to, and you have to accept that too. You have to take care of yourself, and the people you love, and be present in their lives. If you retreat from them, from yourself, and hide behind the shield, it’ll consume you in the end. And then you won’t save anyone, least of all yourself.” She said, and laid her hand on his chest, over the shield he had painted there.

“Tonight, you weren’t reacting or defending yourself. You could have called the police, maybe you should have. But you chose to help someone in need. Regardless of whether Mr. Jackson-Owens presses charges, or separates from his abuser, tonight YOU made the choice to help him. Now he knows, no matter what else happens, that someone knows what happened to him and wanted to help. Sometimes, that’s all it takes. A lot of the time, it’s not, but it’s an important step. There will be more nights like this one, where you do your damnedest and the conclusion is messy and unfinished. If you do your best, and remember what I said, you’ll be able to keep going. That’s what nobody realizes about being a hero; the first time you put on the costume and go out is easy. There are no consequences yet. What really makes you a hero is when you put the costume on and go out and its hard; the bad guys get away, or their lawyers get them off, or you can’t find the guilty party. When you screw up and other people pay the price. That’s what makes people want to hang up the cape. Lots of heroes get started but they can’t accept their failures and limitations.”

Slowly, Connor found his voice again, his heart buoyed by her words.

“Which kind of hero do you think I am?” 

Superwoman smiled faintly and put her hand back on his shoulder.

“I don’t know yet. That’s what you’re gonna have to show us. By getting back up every time you get kicked in the teeth, and putting the costume back on.”

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