shieldborne | Blue Boyscouts

"It's good to have standards, at least," Steve quips mildly, still trying to absorb this strange, new information. "So...he's like an assassin, specifically for your species? Or specifically for certain members of your species."

Okay, on the one hand that's great, because it should limit the potential for collateral damage. On the other hand, if something called Eradicator does show up here, Steve is incapable of leaving well enough alone and Clark might have to brace for that.

"Well, I'm just a human, although I've had some enhancements built in," Steve tells him. "We've had...I think the only other friendly alien contact we've had is Thor. Asgardian. I mean, unless there are a bunch of stealth aliens around which if there are I don't want to know unless they decide to cause trouble. You would be another friendly contact to add to the list, right?"

Because he seems pretty much like any guy Steve's chatted with on the job, except for the floating and the high speed and god only knows what other abilities. But he has to be sure.

He also, apparently, has to reach out and put both hands on his shoulders and nudge him downward lightly, as if to test his buoyancy. Welcome to a brave new world, Superman.

"No... his original goal was as something of a bounty hunter-slash-jail for lawbreakers, separating their spirit from their body which was put in cryostasis until their trial. Something happened when Krypton was destroyed though and now he's more obsessed with preserving what few Kryptonians are left, free of 'alien taint'." And yes, Clark even went so far as to air-quote that. "With me being raised on Earth by a human family, I think you can see why I might not be his favorite person."

"If there's one thing I've learned it's that there's not 'just' anything about humans." He replied with a smile. "I can't say I've heard of Thor, or Asgardians outside of myths, but it's a big universe out there, and I'm absolutely another tic in the friendly visitor box."

Steve, know it or not, definitely said the right thing there to gain more respect from his alien visitor, something easing a bit in his stance. Even still, when he put hands on Clark's shoulders and pressed, it would feel no different than if he was standing on the pavement proper, no real give other than the slight yielding of muscle. What did happen was this earned an amused laugh from him, blue eyes brightening in amusement.

"You alright there friend?"

Well, that sounds horrific. 'Cryostasis' is not one of Steve's favorite words, thanks to his own ice experiences, but the idea of separating spirits from bodies is somehow even more disturbing. And he definitely registers the phrase when Krypton was destroyed. It would make sense, he supposes, for an alien to settle on Earth if he lost his entire planet. And that sounds heartbreaking.

He listens quietly, something softer in his expression--at least until he pushes at him and finds he doesn't sink at all. He gives him a sheepish grin. "I couldn't not. I might be a little bit envious."

He settles on the bike fully and looks up at Superman. He's convinced now that he's trustworthy. The trick will be convincing SHIELD of that. And they're busy right now, frantic under some kind of unfamiliar attack--that's the kind of thing that makes people act out in haste and do regrettable things. It might actually be best not to go right back to base.

(Rules, like windows, are thinks Steve will break when he feels the need.)

"I'm sorry," he says, sincere and quiet and understated. "About Krypton. I hope humans have done all right by you so far, and if so...I'll try to keep us on a winning streak. I think instead of going back to base, I'm gonna try to catch up with the STRIKE team. There are other locations where stuff has come through the portals. We may as well do some clean up, if you're in?"

Clark couldn't really argue. Supposedly it was safer to keep dangerous criminals in that state, but he'd seen the flaws in Krypton's justice system and found himself... questioning it. Human systems had their flaws, but innocent until proven guilty, rehabilitation as a goal? He could get behind that.

"Envious? Well, if I'm here for any length of time once things quiet down, we'll have to go on a flight. You can show me what's fun around here." While some of his team worried about the propensity for trouble, Clark tended to trust easily with how he believed in the underlying good of people. And Steve definitely struck him as good people, so he had no problem with the casual friendly offer.

"I wouldn't be the man I am today without my parents." Clark replied simply with a fond smile. "Kryptonian or human."

He knew he wouldn't be a bad person if he was raised by his Kryptonian parents, but at the same time he felt there was something more gained in being raised by the Kents. Something intrinsically human that taught him to hope easily and believe in the better nature of others. "Just point me where you need me."

He'd definitely be useful in cleanup efforts, beyond speed and flight, not that Steve realized that yet.

"We'll figure out a way to get you home," he promises quietly. "Just might be a while. But I might have to take you up on a flight."

That might mean having to let the guy carry him bridal style or piggyback or something, Steve thinks, which means it ain't happening where anyone can observe, but there are some offers you just don't turn down on account of protecting your masculine persona.

"I hear you," is all he says in response to the observation about his parents. Steve certainly feels that way about his, even though he never met his father.

He calls out on the radio, looking to hear where the rest of the team is, and then starts up the bike. "The miles northwest of here. Some debris landed on a nursing home roof. They're evacuating now, no injuries yet, but if we can move the debris instead that'd save everyone a lot of trouble."

Elderly people on oxygen don't travel all that well. And that's an emergency, so he's not going to pause for any more chit-chat.

"It's okay, things like that are never easy." Luckily for Steve, it wasn't anything like that. Hell, once they were up, all it took was keeping hold of his passenger's hand, similar to how skydivers might use to keep linked.

Clark doesn't waste time in flying alongside as Steve gets started. He could zip ahead, but with how jumpy as everyone was, better to keep from panicking anyone in that way. It wasn't far, even keeping pace with Steve's bike.

"Assuming there's no structural damage to the nursing home, I don't see why we can't get things cleared off for them." And if there was, Clark was pretty handy at repairs after all this time.

It is super weird to have a guy flying along beside him as he goes, but Steve tries to put it out of his mind and just focus on his job. Clark may notice that he's kind of a crazy driver. There's almost no one on the streets right now, and he takes advantage of that, leaping and swerving and dodging around signs and trees and homes. Put him on a rural highway or in the woods or desert and he's probably a complete terror.

He does slow as they approach the home, at least, and his companion will see a two-story building with quite a lot of debris--mostly brick and rebar--piled onto the roof and down one side. Nurses and CNAs are carefully and quickly guiding residents in wheelchairs out of the building, and there are a few men in black uniforms that are mostly trying to keep the evacuees from fleeing too close to the debris.

"Cap!" One of them turns and waves once as they approach. His hand drops a little as he registers the flying person, and he stares, but when Steve gets off the bike and jogs over, he manages to snap out of it. "...nothing alive in this lot, but there's a lot of weight on the structure. They're evacuating the people that can be moved in wheelchairs, but they can't move the bedbound--"

Clark is definitely noticing how recklessly Steve likes to drive. Not the first time he's worked with someone who wound up being a demon behind the wheel, and in some ways it's kind of amusing given his own tendency when driving is to 'grandpa it up' as anyone who rides with him likes to tease. Either way it's easy enough to keep up, and when they get to the nursing home, he slows up, letting Steve take the lead as he surveys the damage. For as dangerous as the weight on the building was, it didn't look like there was anything hazardous in the debris itself, and as they were speaking, he considered the problem a bit more closely. X-ray vision showed some damage to the building but nothing structural yet. The debris was too loose to just scoop up all at once without things shifting and possibly making things worse, but if he worked smart and started from the top down, it wouldn't be too hard.

"If you can get a space cleared for things to get set down, I can start clearing some of the mess off the building. I'm not seeing any serious structural damage so far, so if we're careful about it, we shouldn't need to evacuate anyone else." Otherwise he could just move people beds and all, but that was riskier, taking into account equipment they'd need as well.

The man in black is looking at Steve for his reaction to this, but Steve seems pretty sanguine about it all. "Make sure everyone's out of that end of the building," he says. "Are they on backup power?"

"They have their own generator, but the power company's ready to cut them off once all the ventilators are switched over," he says. "And gas is cut already."

Steve looks relieved. He's handled worse emergencies with less-proven people on his team, but it's always amazing to have people around him handling their bit. "Okay, looks like their back lot is mostly empty, so we'll make space there. I need a perimeter, keep the residents out of the way."

Glancing up at Superman, he says, "You do the aerial retrieval, I'll handle the ground. If you need to throw something down to me, I can take it."

Nothing about the situation was good, but they had time. The building was sturdy and the pile seemed as steady as they could hope for in this. So Clark held back, letting Stephen organize how things would go.

"Sounds good to me Captain Rogers." He was normally more casual with others, but with Steve's team right here and it being a more official situation, he'd stick with the formalities so long as they didn't get in the way of helping. And happily it seemed that they were on the same page on what was important here.

He wasn't going to go nearly as fast as he could, not knowing how unstable the debris would become in it's positioning as he started to pick pieces out, but he definitely wasn't wasting time. Moving debris from the pile against the building to the back lot once the perimeter was set up, checking on the building as he worked. And if Steve was watching, he'd see when Clark, disliking how some twists of broken i-beams were sitting against the roof, was using his heat vision to weld the shattered parts back together so he could pull the whole thing off rather than risking more holes punched in the roof.

"Catch?" He offered, holding the battered metal. He'd bring it down himself but Steve had offered, so if he looked like he was ready to take it, Clark would gladly toss it down to save a bit of time.

Steve appreciates that deference. Later, he'll almost certainly tell him not to worry about the rank; he's just Steve Rogers when he's not working. But with his team around, it helps to have that bit of extra authority, and he says nothing of it, either way.

The team doesn't really need that reinforcement, most likely. They're pretty self-sufficient but they're also used to Cap being in charge when he works with them, which is quite often. He directs them quickly and efficiently, darting across the lot to help shift one of the vehicles by hand, then back to the base of the building in time to observe the impromptu welding job. Should he be glad he doesn't have that power, or jealous? He's going to go with 'glad' for the moment, as useful as it is here. Seems like the kind of thing that could go seriously awry without proper training.

He looks up when Superman calls him, studying the metal he's got, gauging whether he can take it, and concludes he can. "Got it!" He calls back, bracing, and part of the STRIKE team watches with a blend of interest and amusement that says he does this crazy shit occasionally, but not often enough for it to have lost its novelty. Superman, of course, is a whole new world of crazy shit, and he's being watched, as well.

It does help though, letting the team know where the new stranger fit into things at the moment. That the team was still Steve's that it was business as usual rather than wondering about if there was some sort of power-struggle to be had. Clark had absolutely no desire for anything like that, especially not in this situation.

And oh the stories he could tell about learning to control his heat vision. That had been... interesting to put it mildly, and had almost ended with him torching the school much to his embarrassed horror.

At the confirmation the beam was tossed in an easy underhand lob, Clark trusting that Steve had it before turning his attention back to his work. It wasn't too difficult really even going about it carefully, occasionally tossing things to Steve, or just flying them over himself if it was simpler to do, but soon enough the building was cleared of debris. Clark continued to offer assistance, both in making sure the debris hadn't done serious damage, as well as getting the residents safely back into the building, and once things had been declared handled on the STRIKE team's end, was perfectly willing to come back to base with them. If anyone was going to be able to help him get home, it was these people, so he'd rather stick with them for now.

The team is pretty loyal; the chance of a power struggle isn't high under most circumstances. Of course, it probably also helps that Steve is the kind of leader who is more interested in the success of a mission than his own ego (not that he doesn't have one; he's just capable of setting it aside when there are more important things afoot).

He catches the beam with a little grunt; it's far more weight than any human being should be able to take, and he's not doing anything fancy like balling it up to put it in the pile on the ground, but he seems pretty competent. He's strong, and fast, and strangely graceful as he lunges from one task to the next. Once the debris are handled, he makes a circuit of the building to double-check for trouble, talks to one of the security managers there, and helps get a couple residents re-settled safely before regrouping with the STRIKE team.

More reports are coming in by now, with respect to what's actually happening, and they're being recalled back to base as soon as safely possible. Maybe it's to Steve's credit that he asks Superman politely to come along with them, rather than assuming or taking him into custody. It seems like they're on the same page yet again, either way, and the entire team returns to base via back roads, with Steve's motorcycle at the head, Superman flying alongside him.

Steve has to be debriefed alone first, by Fury, but they make short work of it. As much as they butt heads with their disparate philosophies, Steve and Nick Fury do share a common desire to get unstable situations restabilized quickly and with minimal fuss. After the solo discussion, Superman is brought in to meet the Director. He's stern, mincing no words in his attempt to make sure the cross-dimensional wanderer isn't there to cause trouble. Steve, in the meantime, seems to be politely defending him. He's taken a liking to Superman, and while his ability as a judge of character isn't flawless, he's pretty confident they can trust him.

Selvig is really who they need to consult with this matter, but he's not in the country, and it will take a little while to find him. In the meantime, there's no legal cause to keep the stranger in a holding cell, and there seems to be no real reason they need to, so Steve floats the idea of letting him have his guestroom for a while.

While Clark is in some ways wary, he feels like he can trust that Steve doesn't mean him any harm. That he wouldn't lead him back into a proverbial wolf den. So he's perfectly willing to cooperate, not wanting to exacerbate a situation needlessly when so far everyone has been helpful and calm in regards to him.

He's not entirely sure where Fury's opinion on him falls, but he's still respectful when he's brought into the conversation, reassuring the man as well as he's able to that he means no harm to anyone. He's not sure how he'd been pulled here, but he's not one to cause trouble so they'll have no worries from him. Granted he's pretty sure that his word alone won't convince Fury, but it seems Steve is willing to speak in his favor, which he definitely appreciates.

And while it was doubtful they had a cell that could keep him if he really wanted to escape, he was glad that the conversation steers from that sort of thing. Surprised that Steve is willing to open his home so readily, but he's once again grateful to the man, and readily accepts the offer.

The cell design they had set up for the Hulk, which instead ended up in use on Loki and then Thor, is probably still they best they've got. And while it did a reasonably good job on the Asgardians, it likely wouldn't be effective on Clark unless, ironically, he consented to be held there.

There's just only so fast you can go in an interdimensional, interplanetary arms race. Humans are a little bit outflanked. They're really quite fortunate he's friendly.

And perhaps they're also fortunate that Steve is as friendly as he is. It seems wise to give Superman the best possible impression of the people he's landed amongst. Kindness is never a waste, and it can be strategic, but Steve is sometimes a simple man. He sees a strange sort of kinship here, and maybe a little responsibility.

So, it's a couple hours later that they arrive at Steve's apartment building. He goes up the hall slowly, glancing at one of his neighbors' apartments in case she's around (she's a nurse--cute, and nice; he's not smitten, but he's interested). No such luck, but he's not too disappointed, and he lets Clark in with a sigh. The furnishings are mostly vintage, with a few modern twists, and it's very tidy, except for the paintings and art supplies scattered around the living room.

"So, I wouldn't say I'm a great cook, but I can pull together some hamburgers. Or order a pizza. You hungry?" Wait, does he even eat human food? Nah, he must eat human food if he's lived on Earth for a lifetime...

Luckily for all involved that everyone is willing to see reason. And it doesn't hurt that Clark, for all he's seen and all he's fought was still almost desperately optimistic about people. Easily giving the benefit of the doubt that at their core, people wanted to be good. It made those exceptions to the rule that much more bewildering and painful to deal with, but at the same time it served him well in making new friends, or allies.

Not that it ever took him long to see allies as friends in the end.

And subtle or not, he definitely noticed the way Steve's attention fixed on the other apartment's door even for a brief moment before they were passing by, piquing that curiosity that he didn't think he'd ever really shake. A friend's apartment perhaps? Or- no not with that sort of sigh, that was definitely the home of someone Steve was interested in. It told him a little bit about the man, helped to paint a bit more of a complete picture, as did the apartment he was led into. Neat, but not oppressively so, with signs of life here and there in the art supplies that he could see. Homey, in a sense.

"Burgers sound amazing. I'm so hungry I could probably eat the whole cow myself at this point." Only slightly exaggerating. He was lucky that the majority of his power came from the sun rather than food, or he'd never be able to stop eating. As it was he already had more than his fair share of a healthy appetite. "If you've got a spare set of clothes I can borrow I can give you a hand in getting something fixed up if you'd like."

He had some money on him, tucked in a safe slot in the belt he wore, along with another pair of glasses, so if money was the same here, he could hopefully just go pick some clothes of his own up later. But in the meantime what he was wearing wasn't really well-suited for downtime.

Steve inherently sees people as a mixed bag. There's a little good in most people and a little bad in all people, and it's not his place to judge either way. Still, if he can seek out and encourage what's good in the people around him, he will.

One of the more notable aspects of Steve's home is all the books. He's got shelves full of them, some novels, some philosophy, poetry, war diaries--all sorts of things. There's also a record player, and a radio. There's a TV, too, but it looks less used than those.

He laughs a little at Superman's enthusiasm. "That's figurative, right? You don't really need that much food? Any dietary restrictions?"

Honestly, his appetite is pretty significant, as well. He alternates good-sized, healthy meals with days where he eats like an Olympic swimmer in training. Or a climber on Everest. They might need to get groceries stat, but for tonight they should be fine.

"I can do clothes. We're probably...not too far from the same size," he looks him over thoughtfully. Superman is a little taller and a little broader, but not so much that Steve's exercise clothing won't accommodate him, he thinks.

He leads the way into his bedroom, which looks a bit more lived in than the other rooms. It's still pretty neat, with clothing put away and the bed made with great precision, but there's a stack of books on the nightstand, an MP3 player, and noise-cancelling headphones. Steve ducks into his closet and gets out one of the larger t-shirts he owns, a hooded fleece jacket, and a pair of sweat pants. "See how these work? The guest room's the next room over. I'm gonna change, too."

It's always telling what a person keeps in their home, especially what they keep on their shelves. So Clark can't help but be curious as he skims the titles, noticing the variety there. As well as the record player, not a thing he's used to seeing in homes anymore. Hell, even the one his mother had gotten from her own family was tucked safely in it's box in the attic at this point. Odd, but charming to see one out and in use.

"Thankfully figurative, but on some days I come close." He admitted with a cheerfully abashed smile. "No diet restrictions though and I'm not picky, so whatever's on the menu I'm good to go." They'd definitely need groceries, no doubt about it.

It was definitely questionable if any shirts would fit him. If there was one thing Clark was, it was broadly built, something that most just teasingly attributed to being a 'good ol farm boy' which he wasn't one to try and dissuade. He accepted the offered clothes with a smile and thanks, heading to the indicated room to see about changing. Not at all surprised the shirt didn't fit (it looked a bit snug for Steve even), he didn't bother trying to force the issue, just glad that the jacket fit enough to fasten up, and that the pants fit reasonably well.

It didn't take too long for him to come out, slipping his glasses on as he went, with a faint, wry grin.

"Definitely will have to go find someplace to get some clothes sometime soon." Even if it would be one hell of a task with those shoulders of his.

Steve likes his anachronisms. He's forgotten that his houseguest isn't aware of his own backstory, so he doesn't think to explain them right away. It will likely come out sooner or later, though.

He emerges in jeans and a blue button-down, which he's tucked in neatly. Two thirds of Steve's wardrobe is some shade of blue. He likes it that way. "Okay, pal," he laughs again. "I'll see what I can do. If I don't have enough food in the house, we can always make a run for takeout."

Heading for his kitchenette, he gets down two glasses and pulls out a gallon jug of milk. This is what he's drinking, evidently. "Do you want some of this, or something else? I have apple juice and coca-cola."

He does a mild double-take after that, though, because of the glasses. "Do you actually need those, or are they for show?"

"Milk's fine by me." Even with his ridiculous metabolism, Clark's always tended to eat fairly healthy. Influence of his parents more than likely, but it still stands.

The question about the glasses just earns a faint chuckle as he reflexively reaches to adjust them. "A little of both. Force of habit more than anything at this point, but when I was younger they were a good help in keeping my heat vision from getting out of control."

Puberty was hard enough without risking burning down the school every time he talked to a girl he had a crush on after all.

Steve occasionally keeps beer or hard cider around, but he's not a big drinker. It doesn't do anything for him, so unless it tastes great, he tends not to bother. And today he's got nothing but soft drinks. He fills a glass for each of them, then starts getting out things to cook with: the meat, the rolls, mushrooms and onions...

"They kind of suit you," he says artlessly, smirking. "But I gotta be honest, I'm glad I don't have eyeballs that can weld steel. God, I remember the first couple times I tried to run after the serum--I was actually born pretty normal, a little sickly, but I volunteered for an experiment--it was like I couldn't control my body. All engine, no brakes. I pitched right through a shop window, running down the street."

Clark can understand that. When he was younger, alcohol might have worked if he drank enough, but as he got older, something shifted and it just got less effective. Not that he much cared for the idea of being drunk, so in the end it wasn't such a bad thing.

"Trust me when I say it made school really awkward." Clark replied with a grin of his own, brows lifting. "Couldn't talk to the girl I liked without almost torching the school. No one saw, but the rest of the year was full of fire safety assemblies because of it."

It was... nice, in some ways to talk about this, especially to someone who it seemed had a similar deal with learning their abilities. Similar experiences even if the source was different and Steve had been older dealing with them.

"Buddy, you just explained most of my childhood. I'm pretty sure all my parents grey hairs were because of my learning my speed, strength, or flying. That was a fun one to figure out when you're not even in second grade."

It's just possible that Steve is the dangerous bad boy compared to Clark. He would love to be able to get drunk again. Not that he ever made a big habit of it when he could, but there are nights that seem endless now, and days when his nerves are rattled and he can't soothe the adrenaline down after a fight. He punches things, instead of drinking, until he works himself to exhaustion, but temporary oblivion in a bottle is tempting.

Too tempting, maybe. Maybe it's just as well it doesn't work.

"Are you serious? And I thought puberty was awkward under normal circumstances." He's both impressed and sympathetic. And wants to laugh, but that seems rude.

"You started flying in second grade. Damn...I was still trying to--never mind." Not a happy story there. "But if I could have flown I'd have been up on the Chrysler building petting the eagle statues by the time I was twelve."

"Trust me, puberty only gets worse when you've got heat vision." Clark wouldn't be insulted if Steve did laugh, given he was already chuckling a bit himself at the memory. "Capped it all off when I started being able to see through walls and hearing really well."

He shook his head at the memory of his first flight, running a hand through his hair.

"Honestly it was pretty terrifying. Wandered outside in the morning, half asleep to see if dad needed help with the cows and all the sudden I'm floating over the barn. Didn't know how to move around, or more importantly how to get down."

"Jesus, you have x-ray vision, too? You should come with a tag listing all your superhuman abilities. Do not remove under penalty of law." He's joking. If, in fact, someone tried to require Superman or anyone like him to wear such a tag--especially under penalty of law--Steve would fight them, without question.

He places the vegetables on the nearest cutting board and gestures invitingly, letting Clark know if he wants to help, he's welcome to slice them. Steve himself starts making up burger patties and puts them in the pan to cook.

"Okay, that does sound scary. What did your parents do?"

Blue Boyscouts

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject