Work in Progress Folder Part Two
This is from a DCU alternate universe...where Luthor sacrificed himself to save Kon-El during Infinite Crisis. Not a crossover, just my favorite verse to daydream in.
Kon skipped the funeral. Clark went though, he stopped by the funeral to make sure Kon would watch the event on TV before super speeding back towards Metropolis. It took three hours for the entire even to go down on TV. The newscasters kept name dropping the celebrities and the cameras zoomed in shamelessly on the heaving cleavage of Luthor's ex-wives. Pa Kent couldn't manage to be in the room more than five minutes before storming out of the living room to ticker away at bits of the farmhouse. When Ms. Lang stepped up to the casket, Pa dropped a wrench on his foot and Ma Kent had to drag his over to the first aid kit.
The open casket was daunting. Luthor had brainwashed him, kidnapped him, and been a generally really evil guy. Not Joker evil or anything, Kon had seen the difference, but there had been an inhuman coldness settled in his soul that freaked him out. Kon wouldn't have believed that the body in the casket was Luthor except he had seen Luthor die.
At the last minute, it had been Luthor in a mecha looking suspiciously like a Gundam that had pushed Kon out of the way of a killing blow. Kon had been too shocked and injured to stop him, to do anything other than sit next to him while Luthor said his final words. Kon watched the body go cold and empty, and he wondered for the first time if maybe, for once, he had gotten everything wrong.
Kon turned off the TV while the body was being lowered. He changed into his Superboy uniform, throwing on a blazer over the shirt and jeans. He respected Clark enough to skip the funeral, but there was no way he was going to miss the reading of Luthor's will. Especially when his former body guard had turned up to the Teen Titans tower herself to deliver the request.
***
Downtown Metropolis was home for Kon in the way the farm could never be. He loved big cities the way Tim loved crime fighting or Clark loved moral superiority. Even the Luthor Corp tower was beautiful twice a day, the sunrise and sunset reflecting off its windows. He loved the smell of fresh cooking hotdogs by the parks, the laughter peeling out in over a dozen languages, and the middle school tweenies trying to skip class to argue the merits of Jacob and Edward. Kon loved the way the grocery store alcoves make a perfect rain cover, and tiny newstands carry tabloids theorizing Batman as Starfire's mutant twin sister. Best of all, he loved the way he could fly. At the farm there were just too many neighbors with telescopes (Fordham's third best selling item), but in Metropolis Kon could go up in the air and only had to worry about his landings. The jazzed sensibilities of the city's citizen's meant, even when Kon landed down from fighting evil robots from space, Vinnie still gave him a dirty look if he didn't pay for his Metropolis deep dish slice with exact change.
Today though, he didn't stop for pizza when he landed at the park on fifth. He straightened his blazer, damp from the heavy cloud cover, and made his way past the Museum and around the 4th Avenue theater to 1433 4th Avenue, third floor, room 12.
The space was more of an amphitheater than a room. A dozen members of the press sat against the far wall, including Lois and Clark, who looked fuming behind his clunky black glasses and 50 yards of plaid. Lois, waved his hand over to the four rows up front. Kon saw an open space between Luthor's former body guards Mercy and Hope with a small, carefully labeled card reading "Reserved for Kon-El." When he turned around to scan the room, he was hilariously pleased to discover there was an entire row just for Luthor's ex-wives and half a dozen city correctional officers for the ones who hadn't finished their sentences. Ms. Lang was one of three who sat in the row without orange.
Hope smacked the back of Kon's head. "Ow," he whined but he turned around to face front. Lucas Luthor, front row far left, alternated between looking like a kid on Christmas morning and looking like the kid who had been given a gift certificate to a health foods store. Other than that, the room was filled with CEO's, wealthy business associates, Luthor Corp investors, and in one corner, to Kon's suprise, Jennifer Mendosa from Metropolis child services, who had done everything to try and take Kon out of Cadmus custody in the early days, before hefty donations from Lionel Luthor had her fired.
A couple minutes after sitting down, half a dozen suits came in through the side door. Their own security task force, armed to the teeth with weaponry and though he couldn't see it, Kon could tell by the sudden waves of fatigue and nausia, the brought Kryptonite with them as well.
"Before we begin, I'd like to offer my sincere condolences to everyone here today. My name is Laurence Zhang, I am Mr. Luthor's attorney as well as the executor of his will. It was Mr. Luthor's bequest that we gather everyone before mailing out copies. Due to the size of the estate, the distributing work has been delegated between my team and myself." Mr. Zhang's professionalism wavered slightly, sadness creeping in. "This is the abbreviated version that Luthor requested we read aloud."
"To my boarding school friends..." Kon tuned him out. After the eighth painfully manicured person in the room burst into tears, he stopped keeping count. He even dozen off for a bit until he felt a vicious pinch in his side.
Kon jerked awake to a look of disgust from Mercy and the sound of the executor reading Clark's name.
" and Lois Lane, the investigative reporters that have paid such special attention to my career, I leave my favorite board game, Clue. In addition to the game, I leave to Lois Lane my entire collection of Kryptonite, to use as she sees fit."
Kon jerked his head aound to look at them in the back. Clark's face turned red in fury and Lois jaw dropped open, her hands which had been taking frantic notes before Kon dozen off.
"To Mercy and Hope, I leave twenty million of my liquid assets each under the condition you both continue your work protecting my heir."
Lucas, who had been keeping a running commentary to himself the entire time, crowed out in triumph. "Yes! I got the hot chick bodyguards." Mercy's arm immediately reached behind Kon's seat and curled protectively around his shoulders. He didn't blame her for the reach around. Kon wouldn't have wanted to work for that douche either.
Mr Zhang frowned, "Are you quite done Mr. Luthor with your inappropriate display?"
Lucas grinned, throwing up a hand as if to wave off everyone's disapproval. "I'm good. Go ahead and crown me King of Metropolis."
"God help us," muttered Kon. The corner of Hope's mouth twitched violently, as if she were trying to smile and she pat Kon on the knee. "Don't worry, it's not him,"she whispered.
Before Kon could even process that information (or even the idea that Mercy and Hope are capable of speech!), Mr. Zhang goes on, "...and to my biological son and heir, Kon-El, I leave LuthorCorp as well as the remainder of assets, and my collection of Warrior Angel memorabilia. As Kon-El has no yet reached maturity, I name my brother, Lucas Luthor, as his guardian under the condition he take full-custody immediately. I respectfully request Ms. Mendosa to keep a close watch on my son to make sure he receives the proper care and education he needs. Kon is to receive his share in full upon reaching Kryptonian maturity at 23 years of age." Mr. Zhang paused briefly. "If you have any questions, please ask a member of my team."
The room exploded.
****
and the uh, sequel opening to my werewolf Big Bang.
“Class, welcome our new student E-”
“Bebe,” she interrupted. “Bebe for Beth Rexha. Call me Bebe.” She almost added please to the end of it, but she was beyond sick of people making fun of her name. Not that she blamed them.
A couple of the students looked amused but for the most part, no one seemed to care. Bebe settled into an empty desk at the back, next to one irritated looking goth who went back to drawing butterflies with human skulls. They weren’t very good drawings. Even her kohl was badly smudged.
Mrs. Peterson started drawing out an illustration on the board. Bebe looked around. Everyone seemed to have their Health and FItness textbooks out and turned to a page. “Excuse me, what page-”
“228,” said the goth in a really deep, totally not feminine voice. Oh. Bebe hadn’t been expecting to meet people like this when she changed schools.
“Thank you, gentle sir,” she said and then cringed. It sounded a lot more formal out loud than in her head.
The goth boy stopped drawing to look right at her. “Are you on fucking crack?”
“Mr. Wentz! Out! Principle’s office now,” Mrs Peterson snapped.
He scowled at Bebe before shoving his notebook into his bookbag and stomping out the room.
Bebe buried her face in her hands. She should have known better than trust Mr. Schector on this. Going to high school on her home world was a bad idea. She should have stayed at Chrestomanci Castle.
***
Mrs. Peterson asked them to split up into pairs and before Bebe coulc slump in her seat so she could fake doing the assignment by herself, the tall cheerleader two rows down jumps up and grabs Bebe around her wrist.
“Listen, I am really sorry about my boyfriend being a jerk to you. Pete Is usually a really good guy, he’s just gone through a bad break up.” The girl gave her an apologetic look. “I’m Ashlee. Wanna be partners?”
Bebe was pretty sure Ashlee wasn’t proposing marriage. Just. Not a hundred percent. She stared at the hand Ashlee stretched out before she said carefully, “I would very much enjoy working on this project with you.”
Ashlee reached her hand back after a couple second and pulled up a chair to sit down, smiling wide enough that Bebe could see her enlarged incisors. “You’re new, right? I mean, sure this school is huge but all the honors students know each other since we’ve been in the same petri dish, ya know? There’s only a hundred of us and like, Mikey gave everyone a heads up that there’d be a few new kids. Unless you’re like, a different transfer?”
Bebe shook her head. Her official transcripts listed Linda Iero as her guardian. Mikey had been enrolled at Westview Consortium and Prepatory for so long, Mrs. Way had been pretty hesitant to move him. After talking with Frank’s mom, they decided to have Linda move in with Mrs. Way and Gerard, Frank, and Bebe be the Rexha siblings. It gave Gerard, Frank, and Bebe a chance to get new ID’s and no one would ask too many questions about the three of them excuse for being a little strange if they claimed to have moved from Seward, Alaska to Chicago.
“My brothers and I moved into cousin Mikey’s home during spring break. Our mom just got divorced and wanted to spend time with her sister so we moved into their house. Gerard’s really excited. He loves Mikey.” Bebe said, reminding herself to think positive. At least she got her own room when they moved to Chicago. Greta used to snore at night.
Ashlee looked impressed. “Everyone in your family passed the entry exams? That’s so cool! You must have some really talented artists in your family.”
Bebe blushed and shook her head. Her mother couldn’t have drawn to save her life. Her cover story, however... “Frank plays classical guitar, just like Mikey. He’s been playing for years. Gerard can paint like a dream. You should see some of the paintings Grandmother Helena has in her room. Gerard’s made full length cartoon landscapes of the afterlife. We were homeschooled so there was plenty of time for leisure.”
Ashlee pulled some loose paper during Bebe’s chattering. She printed her own name neatly at the top and passed the pen to Bebe, who printed her own name just beside.
“How did you get in?” Ashlee asked. “You’ve got a guitarist and a painter in your family. Do you sculpt or dance? No, I bet you’re some kind of piano genius. You’ve got the most gorgeous claws I’ve ever seen. Not to sound racial or anything, but I’ve heard that like, twelve year old werewolves are the best pianists. Or, wait, do you sing? Your voice is pretty musical”
For a moment, Bebe could remember her father sneering in her room, saying he didn’t care what the paternity test said, there was no way a kid with a voice like that could be related to a siren. “No,” she whispered, then louder, “I can’t sing.”
Ashlee blinked. “Well, too bad. We need more girl singers around here if only to keep Brendon and Patrick for stealing all the solos. What do you want to name our egg foetus? I like Philbert.”
Bebe startled at the question but before she could ask for a point of clarification, Mrs Patterson placed an egg with a smiling face down on the desk surface between them and a typed out sheet of questions. Everything was so foreign she could hardly breath. “I’d like to go home now.”
Ashlee shrugged. “You and me both, sister.”
***
Bebe and her mother started out in Wales. They had a house on the beach and in the mornings, Bebe would play in the sand. Sometimes in the afternoon if her parents were fighting. It didn’t happen very often, just when Ylleria would make Barra bring the child support in person. Barra never stayed very long when she got older. Bebe got her dark hair and her eyes from Barra but the older she got, the less he believed in her.
The last time she saw Barra, he was so angry. He knocked over the lamp. “I’m not saying she’s a bad kid, I’m just telling you my Ma won’t take her. She’s not a siren, Ylleria, which is bad enough, but she wasn’t even born selkie. Ma won’t buy for a second that she’s my kid and the Matriach is Ma’s best friend. That girl won’t be allowed near a mile of the fishing village.”
Ylleria threw a punch at him. “You superstitious, racist bastard. She’s your own flesh and blood and you won’t take her because she’s human? I don't know why I ever stayed in this backwater shit of a world. Fuck you. If you don’t want her, I’ll take her with me when I leave.” Bebe stopped watching them. She drew wriggling lines in the sand in the sand and watched the ocean wash it back.
***
This is possibly one of the only part of that Tale of Bromance that should be shown to ANYONE until I clean the fuck out it. And Lastly, what will forever be known as "D:/:D? A Tale of Bromance"
Pete is the greatest date Kanye ever had. "Seriously Gee," Kanye tells him while they do poppers during lunch. "Pete told me how fabulous I looked, was genuinely nice to my Mama, appreciated Tom Selleck and Dre's bromance, And, And And - don't hog the Henessey- and he let me hold his hand."
Gerard passes the Henessey over without any fuss, taking his own vial of poppers to snort. They usually spent their lunch over holed up together in the janitors office. It's taken a few months, but Kanye's pretty sure Gee knows how to decipher most of the things he says. He reaches down the third shelf, groping behind the extra garbage bags for the shot glasses they keep there.
Pete had walked out his front door in sharp, black eyeliner and baggy jeans. Kanye loves the butch dyke look on Pete, the way it softens the crazy in Pete's eyes and the love in Pete's heart.
He liked him better than Yolanda from the moment Pete dove for the car door, jumped in and told Kanye he love his sunglasses. They drank milkshakes, terrorized the middle schoolers at the local arcade and then went over to Kanye's home for dinner. Pete has said yes ma'am, no ma'am, and asked for seconds but didn't win her over until he cheekily offered to clean out her gutters, anytime while wriggling his eyebrows. Pete had posed in front of Kanye's homies Dre and Tom before asking Kanye to take a polaroid of the four of them together. Then, at the end of the night, when the two of them had stared at Kanye's ceiling fan, taking about The Swamp Thing, Kanye had felt Pete's fingers creep across the bed and intertwine with his own.
"I don't really do things with dudes," Pete had said awkwardly, "but like I could be, you know, with you. Like, above the waist."
Kanye grins at Gee while he remembers this. "It's like, I'm so great the power of my bromance brought him to me. You think if I have my bromance call out to Snoop Dog, he'd help me get a label contract?"
Gerard looks at him as intently as he possibly could under the circumstances. "Just have faith, dawg. At least your date sounds better than mine."
Kanye winces. Not because of Gerard's horrible trainwreck attempts at ebonics, but because he had forgot about Gee and Travie's first date. "Was it bad?"
Gerard curls into himself, holding out his arm and grasping at the air. Kanye hands him back the bottle of Henessey but doesn't bother with the shot glass. Gee takes a long swallow before putting the bottle back down. "Mini golf group date. We made it like, three holes before he pulled me into the windmill and said he wanted to have something special with me. Which Keisha's told me plenty times is code for, give me a blow job before I dump you so... I tried to give him a blow job but I panicked?"
Kanye clucks his tongue fondly. Gerard's like his Big Brother in the Big Brother Program for gays, helping Kanye not screw up by example or something. "Did you hyperventilate on his dick or something? I thought you stopped doing that."
Gerard made a choking sound distressing enough that Kanye decided to be the better man and not ask follow up questions even though he's still confused as to how someone can hyperventilate around a dick more than once. Maybe Gerard had a secret fear of balls...?
and for you going reading through this mess, I grant you this. 100 words of any verses of mine. No more than ten per person, and I get a week to fill them for you. Any subject or any missing scene of any verse.