legionworld | Another head hangs lowly

Entry tags:

Another head hangs lowly

Who| Thad and anyone
What| A new arrival being lonely without his AI buddy and finally giving into socializing. Kind of.
Where| Various sections of the Habitat deck. You can feel free to tag him in his own section of the deck as well.
When| After "Whistling in the Dark"
Warnings/Notes| None, beyond the general mild warning of there being some mention of how he was raised.

A replication of Craydl had sounded good when he had requested it. When asked about what kind of environment he would want, he hadn't really had any other ideas on what to say. It wasn't an exact replication by any means; when he'd described it, he'd felt the need to keep it purposefully vague, giving a general idea and outlining the superficial aspects of the construction, but leaving most decisions on layout up to the builders.

The end result was that, while it did look a lot like Craydl, it was different enough to feel wrong. Worst of all, was how empty it felt without Craydl's voice chiming in throughout the day; no witty or sarcastic comments when he was being too serious or getting too caught up in a project, no advice or chiding mother hen attitude when he wasn't sleeping enough or wasn't eating as much as he should. There had been times he'd found all of those things annoying, but now, even in the short time he'd been here, there had been more than one occurrence of him unintentionally speaking up to talk to the AI that wasn't there.

Despite all the people on Legion World and the fact that he could speak to any of them at a moments notice if he chose to, he'd never felt so utterly on his own. Not that he had done much to reach out to anyone since he'd been pulled here. Outside of doing maintenance and repairs he'd agreed to help with (which there seemed to be no shortage of), he'd hardly left his part of the Habitat deck.

The longer he spent in the building the more that unfamiliar feeling of loneliness weighed on him. The maze of grated floors and machinery began to feel both hollow and constricting; less like 'home' and more like an elaborate prison. Eventually, the feeling was uncomfortable enough to finally push him out.

Outside of his little lair was a stretch of what resembled an Alabama forest, and among all the trees, his warehouse of a building stuck out like a sore thumb but despite the stark difference, or maybe because of it, it felt more comforting than the imitation of Craydl. Still, comforting or not, there was only so much one could get from wandering the same patch of forest, and eventually curiosity and listlessness have the speedster cautiously exploring the other sections of the Habitat deck.

It was interesting to see just how different each section was. One moment you could be on a beach, the next in the middle of a city, a garden, or on a mountain side. It really was amazing the lengths the Legion went to, to make the beings in their care comfortable, as well as the various environments those people chose. It doesn't take long for him to get lost to curiosity and drop his guard, not caring quite as much if he's caught looking around. Or at least, not caring until he has been caught.

Any sign of another persons presence or any attempt to interact with the teen will have him acting startled and skittish, like a wild animal that's been cornered and is trying to judge whether it would be better to run or attack. While an attack is very unlikely, there is a good chance of hearing an insincere "I didn't mean to disturb you" spoken a little too fast.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The area Thad had currently been exploring was similar to a Scottish coast, replete with cliffs, sea stacks, and arches. It also contained a young man and his dragon, who found him fairly quickly.

"It's fine," Hiccup said, holding out his hands, palms up, like he'd do with a particularly skittish dragon. "I'm not going to get on your case for wanting to explore. Don't really have much of a leg to stand on."

He wiggled his prosthetic foot a bit for emphasis.

Being spoken to gingerly seems to drive in a spike of embarrassment, and Thad attempts to regain his composure but what rigidity and dignity he tried to force into his posture is quickly lost in his curiosity over the two beings.

The joke about 'not having a leg to stand on' does a good job of drawing his attention to the prosthetic foot. That certainly wasn't made in this time period. It was too crudely constructed, but the design its self was interesting. Was it hand crafted? It was harder to see the details of it from where he stood, and-...it was probably rude to stare, wasn't it?

The dragon (if that's what they were) is more startling at first, but Thad has seen stranger beings in his history files, so when they don't make any immediately aggressive moves, he remains relaxed. Still, he makes sure to keep a distance, for now.

He didn't know if they were sentient, but if the being was closer to having the intelligence of an animal...well...animals didn't tend to like him (at least not without some amount of positive conditioning, and a concentrated effort on his part to keep all his thoughts and actions positive around them). When they weren't afraid of him, they were aggressive, almost like they could sense something about him that most people couldn't. And he had no desire to find out what a being like that would do to someone they sensed was a threat. So while he can't help but eye them curiously, he tries to keep Hiccup between them and himself.

"You..." What was something polite to respond with? He should, at least, try to get along with the other beings here, shouldn't he? It would certainly be in his best interest. "You came from this environment?"

Well, that sounded more dense than polite, but it was too late to take it back now.

Toothless settled for giving Thad wary looks, but seemed content to leave him alone for the time being.

Hiccup grinned over at the other boy, glad he hadn't decided to run off.

"More or less. I didn't have the staff recreate my village. Just gave them a couple of ideas and let them run with it, but it's pretty close to some of the islands near home."

Thad gave a stiff nod.

"That's understandable. I suspect a fully accurate replication would be disconcerting after a while, wouldn't it?" That was something even he could empathize with. If being inside of Craydl's replication without the AI there was upsetting to him, it only made sense that having an entire village recreated without any of its people around to populate it, would have to be as equally unsettling, if not more so, didn't it?

Rich never could have dreamed of claiming Central Park all for his own. Central Park was Central Park. It was one of a few parts of the city that belonged to close to eight and a half million New Yorkers simultaneously.

"This is Central Park, kid. Even in outer space it belongs to everyone," said the man that was laying on the grass, looking up at the artificial sky, his arms folded behind his head.

Rich was antsy as ever now that there wasn't any action going on, so he figured if he was going to be twitchy, he might as well be twitchy while laying on the grass and looking up at the (fake) sky.

"You look new." He reached out his right arm -- a robotic prosthetic -- and patted the ground before tucking it behind his head again. "Pull up a patch of grass."

That was an...odd mentality. It wasn't as if it was the real Central Park, it may resemble it, but these places had been made specifically for individual people, of course it didn't belong to everyone. But, he supposed it wouldn't be wise to argue that fact when according to his own logic, he'd been trespassing. For a moment, he sure looked like he wanted to, though.

The invitation to 'pull up a patch of grass' (why did people have so many odd idioms?) seemed to startle him slightly. There was a moment where he seemed to honestly think Rich might be speaking to someone else, giving in to an embarrassing urge to look around for anyone else that might be there with them. Of course, there was no one else.

He seemed to take a moment to consider it before finally sitting down very neatly; legs folded under him, back straight, hands placed together on his lap. And there was a stretch of silence where he merely sat there awkwardly with the expression of one trying to figure out a particularly frustrating puzzle. When he did finally speak up it was in a particularly blunt tone.

"Why have a habitat made for you that you don't use for a domicile?" It didn't occur to him that this question might be personal or rude, but even if he had, he probably would have asked it anyway. As intriguing as the replication was, it didn't make sense. What was the purpose of it?

"They have crew quarters for that."

He didn't need a place to sleep. He was perfectly comfortable in a normal quarters --and used to them at this point. He'd had his own modest general's quarters during the war, and any place that had ever put him up for the night since usually plopped him in something equivalent to a standard ship's quarters.

"The habitats are for people if they want a custom place for their quarters but they're also for people to feel less homesick. I chose Central Park because it's one of the places that reminds me of home the most."

And did it in a way that didn't make him more homesick. He could've chosen someplace like Montauk Point, where his family'd had a summer home when he was growing up, but that probably only would've made him feel worse.

"And what kind of park doesn't have other people in it at least sometimes?"

"Homesick?" The word was repeated back less like a question and more like someone testing out a new word in their own voice.

The idea of being homesick was something of a foreign concept to him. While he knew what it was supposed to mean, it was hard for him to really understand it or empathize. Briefly, he wondered if it was comparable to how he had felt inside the empty re-creation of Craydl, but ultimately decided it likely wasn't comparable. It was the AI he missed more than the place itself. Then again, this certainly wasn't what he would consider the conventional idea of 'home', so perhaps the meaning of the word was more board and less literal than he had initially interpreted it.

On the topic of parks needing people he could only reply with, "I suppose..." and a slight shrug as he unconsciously looked around the place. It did feel somewhat empty with just the two of them.

Looking back to Rich, his hands fidget together a little, thinking back on his earlier comment about him looking new.

"How long have you been here?" Then, to make sure he was being complexity clear, he added rather unnecessarily, "In this universe I mean, not this spot."

Rich just smiled at the clarification, but didn't laugh. He didn't want the kid to think he was laughing at him.

"A few weeks. Enough to get settled in, at any rate."

Which was a strange feeling. He was so used to rocketing from one threat to the next -- with his rookie Novas in tow -- but here he was, waiting for the trouble to happen in one place before running to it.

"Which is a weird feeling for me. I'm not used to standing still."

It usually left him too much time to think.

Edited 2016-02-29 04:22 (UTC)

Thad unconsciously nodded at Rich's comment about being here for a few weeks. That seemed to add up with what he'd heard about their predicament so far, but the talk of settling feeling weird caught his curiosity.

"What are you use to doing?" As far as he was aware most people spent a good portion of their time at a stand still and seemed perfectly happy like that. Even other speedsters (with the possible exception of Allen) seemed to relish the few moments they had to be still and just enjoy a bit of peace. What kind of life did someone lead where the opportunity for that was so infrequent that it had become an oddity?

"I'm a cop. I used to be part of an intergalactic police force called the Nova Corps, but they all died in a really awful war and I was the last one left."

The very last Nova.

"Luckily, a whole lotta people from a whole lotta worlds banded together to stop the ones responsible for the fall of the Novas, an omnicidal maniac named Annihilus and his army. But since then, space has been a mess back home. Thanks to the Novas being gone, I had the combined power of the entire Nova Corps -- instead of being all spread out, I carried it all. It meant I had the power to help a lot of people, so I was burning the candle at both ends, rocketing from one place to another trying to help people after so many worlds were thrown into chaos because of the war."

He shot Thad a crooked grin.

"Basically, I haven't exactly had time for a vacation in a good long while."

This wasn't the first time Thad had heard a story like this, but there was something very different about hearing this kind of information from a history file or hollow vid and having it told to you by someone who lived through it.

What would be the proper reaction to this?

Rich didn't seem to be particularly upset while talking about it, he actually seemed almost casual, should he be casual back? Or would that be considered callous?

"I...can see why that would make you unused to being in one place for so long." He probably should have left it to that, but an overabundance of curiosity had always been one of his flaws. "Wouldn't getting some time to rest be something of a relief then?"

"Still a weird feeling. Maybe you'll understand when you're older," he said. "It's all about adult responsibilities and whatnot."

He smiled though, to take the edge off any possible judgment over his age Thad might think he was sending his way.

"I'm Rich Rider, by the way. I also go by Nova. What's your name?" A pause. "And how old are you? I'm curious 'cause I'm pretty sure I'm one of the crustiest, most ancient people here right now."

Man, there sure seemed to be a lot of teens.

Edited 2016-03-24 06:45 (UTC)

"I'm Thaddeus Thawne. Codenamed Inertia." There was a slight pause before he gave his age, as he contemplated whether he should tell the truth, which could lead to a lot of questions, or simply give his physical age and keep up the perception that he was a teen, which could backfire on him when the truth eventually came out.

"And my age is...somewhat complicated." Going with the truth it is. "Physically I would be approximately fourteen to sixteen years old, chronologically I'm three hundred and seventy-two" if Craydl's measure of time was to be believed "while my mental age would depend on what parameters you would prefer to measure it by."

He manages to say this with a completely straight face, despite one of the deciding factors to telling the truth admittedly being the hope for an amusing response.

Well then. That was kind of old. Technically. (Maybe?)

"You've held up well," Rich said glibly, like someone complimenting an elderly person on them not being pruny old. "Keeping active? Doing that monthly crossword? I heard that's good for holding off dementia."

Congrats, Thad, now he's going to talk to you like you're ancient for a little bit.

"I really hope that lumbago isn't acting up. I've heard a epsom salts and a good liniment cream can help with that."

The glib comments actually make the speedster smile a little. He certainly preferred jokes about being old, over sincere prying questions.

"No issues with back problems. Thankfully, a speedster metabolism can do wonders for one's longevity, and durability." When the speedforce wasn't backfiring that is. The cloning process and genetic alterations also played a hand in this, but he preferred to still keep that to himself for the time being.

"You needn't apologize," said the Coluan. "This isn't my area of the Habitat Deck. I have none."

What was there on Colu that he could possibly want replicated on Legion World? He held very little love for his homeworld and he'd spent most of his early life there trapped in the confines of the Colugov lab complexes under the capitol, anyway. He'd hardly seen anything else while living there.

Earth had always been a much more hospitable home planet, given how much it had always welcomed the Legion.

Even then, there was only one area on the ship that was truly his own, and that was the Science Lab -- which was now a place that he had to share with others these days. More than in the past, at any rate.

"And I was looking for you." Brainy floated in the air, his hands clasped behind his back. It created a somewhat imposing image, him floating there, staring down with an implacable expression. "I wanted to speak with you."

Sharp green eyes looked down at Thad as if Brainy was trying to pin him down with his gaze like one might pin a butterfly to a cork board by its wings.

"I must confess, I find your existence...intriguing."

Every interaction with the Legion members, so far, had felt awkward on some level. Seeing people on a screen and planning how you would interact with them if it became necessary, was far different from being in the same room with them, and having their full attention on you. Particularly when they didn't see him as Bart but as himself.

But if Thad found Brainiac 5's position or gaze intimidating to him now, he didn't show it, instead regaining his composure and reflecting that implacable look back at him. It wasn't until that last sentence that he showed any discomfort, and it was only in a slight darkening of his expression, something barely perceivable in the second or two it lasted.

'I find your existence intriguing'; something about that phrasing rubbed him the wrong way. He couldn't quite pinpoint why though, which made him question whether it was really intentional on the Legionnaire's part, or if it was his own distrust twisting the words into something more degrading than what they really were. His own instincts on matters of socialization hadn't exactly served him well over the past few months, or ever, if he were to be completely honest with himself. It wouldn't be the first time he'd mistaken someone's intent or twisted it to fit how he wanted to perceive someone.

It didn't help that he only knew Brainiac 5 from vague history files and his interactions with Bart Allen. He was use to most of his socialization taking place with people he'd been monitoring for years; people whose idiosyncrasy, histories, habits, and personalities he knew well enough to be able to predict or manipulate how they may react to him. He didn't have any such advantage here, and the other male was someone he found hard enough to read and predict back when he'd still only been yet another person on a screen.

"Intriguing in what way?" Attempting to give the benefit of the doubt, he tried to keep his tone soft, but the frigidity that crept over the edge of his words was hard to miss.

"Your creation seems like an overabundance of pointless effort to exact petty revenge on a single individual. A waste."

One might have interpreted that as him saying Thad himself was a waste but that wasn't what he meant.

"Creation should be for its own sake, especially when it pertains to sentient beings."

It was a lesson he'd learned the hard way, with Computo. How long had it taken him to accept that it was wrong for him to create a sentient AI with the purposes of using and then destroying it?

"You wouldn't be the first clone that was a Legionnaire, by the way. Superboy briefly spent some time with us here in the future before we successfully managed to return him to his own time." A pause. "Despite being modeled after Superman, he wasn't cloned with the...purest of purposes in mind by the organization that cloned him."

What with them wanting their own organic machine to control and all. And Brainy had never found out about the Lex Luthor element.

"He said he found his time here somewhat...liberating. He was able to act as a hero free of any preconceived judgments or reputation he back in his own time. He claimed it was a time that allowed him to refine his personal and superheroic identity -- to decide it for himself."

Already half anticipating to hear something hostile or suspicious, Thad was quick to take that first line the wrong way, his body language stiffening, and fists clenching at his sides as he glowered up at the Legionnaire. But as Querl continued speaking and his meaning became clearer, Thad's demeanor lost its hostility and though his expression remained wary it softened.

He had to let those words settle in his mind for a moment before he could come up with a response. Encouragement, or what sounded like it, was just about the last thing he had expected to hear coming from any of the Legion, let alone Brainiac 5, and the comparison to Kon-el made it all the more odd. Having met the other clone, it was hard to even think of them as having anything in common, despite the similarities in their backgrounds.

"Our situations weren't entirely comparable," Still, it was hard to miss how Brainy's words related to him despite that. "but I do appreciate the sentiment and offer."

There was a part of him that wanted to ask why the Legion seemed to trust him enough to even suggest an invitation into their ranks. Was it simply based off a hope that he would choose to better himself, or 'find himself' under their guidance and comradery? Or was it something more cynical? Something like being desperate for more members now that their numbers had been paired down so far. But he couldn't think of a way to ask in to it without either seeming desperate for validation or sounding as if he was arguing in favor of them distrusting him and seeing him as a threat, so having at least a modicum of self-preservation and pride, he kept the question to himself.

"Thus far, the opportunity to learn about my family and myself outside of the influence of..." What did he even call him now? There had been a point where he'd referred to him as father but that left a sour taste in his mouth even thinking of it now. Anything else felt too informal or disrespectful and despite everything he still couldn't bring himself to sink to that. "my creator, has certainly felt..." hollow, nerve racking, sickening, "I don't know if I would call it liberating, but intriguing."

Edited 2016-03-03 05:59 (UTC)

"I myself found that the Legion offered me a chance to develop a unique perspective when I joined, different from what I'd been led to believe on my home planet."

Thad wasn't the only one with ties to a villainous legacy.

"On Colu, I was expected to dedicate all my work for the planetary interest and they made it almost impossible for me to escape the imputation of who I was descended from." A pause. "That's why I carry the title Brainiac 5. It originally wasn't my choice; it was given to me when I was born."

Who would choose to name themselves after one of the worst supervillains ever to live, after all?

Edited 2016-03-07 03:23 (UTC)

Hal's section of the habitat deck was taken up by runways leading into open California space, with a few buildings clustered at the end and planes parked and waiting their turns - turns that wouldn't come, because despite the miles of space in the Habitat Deck, having enough room to put in an airfield was nothing close to having enough sky to actually take advantage of it.

Still, having it there was something - having one plane in particular there, even if it was a recreation and not the genuine article, meant something.

And that was the plane he was sitting in, cockpit left open, when Thad wandered through.

"No big deal. Kind of nice to have someone else around here, actually. It feels a little empty without the people who should be here."

When he'd started with Ferris Air it had been down to a skeleton crew, but even those days had felt lively compared to this fabrication.

This was one of the odder places he'd come across on the habitat deck. The stretch of land with runways and outdated airplane models (which he was fairly certain couldn't actually fly here) was just about the last thing he had expected to see on Legion world. The older technology was somewhat fascinating though, and he'd quickly gotten caught up in looking over the various aircraft's, not even noticing the one that was occupied until he was caught.

The voice coming from it sounded somewhat familiar, but not enough for him to actually connect any dots.

"That seems to be a repeating sentiment." Quite a few of these places that were meant to be familiar and comforting, apparently felt too empty or had the potential to feel that way.

There was a temptation to ask why Hal would want an empty airport filled with planes he couldn't fly, but Thad was starting to realize that people had a habit of basing the decision of what habitat they would occupy, more on emotion and sentimentality than logic or need. Chances were he would only find the answer confusing or frustrating.

Probably better to let it go for now.

"Was this your plane back where you came from?" He asked instead, approaching the aircraft Hal was sitting in.

Edited 2016-02-26 09:09 (UTC)

"On paper, no. But Carol only kept this one around because of me, so in a way -"

As he spoke, Hal half-climbed up from the cockpit, enough to rest his elbows on the edge of the cockpit, lean over the side, and get a look at who he was talking to.

And paused for a moment, a spark of recognition in his eyes - but an uneasy one. He'd met Bart Allen before, but not at enough length to call it anything more than that.

"- you could call it some kind of ownership, I guess."

For a moment his eyes widen a little at the mention of a Carol, his paranoid mind immediately jumping to Bart's friend. The realization that it was ridicules to connect her with whomever Hal was talking about was quick to sink in though and he relaxed again. It wasn't as if there was only one Carol in the multiverse, and Bart's friend was most definitely not the owner of any kind of aircraft.

As he made his way closer and the man leaned over the edge of his cockpit, the feeling of familiarity only grew more vexing when his face was as irritatingly familiar as his voice. Looking up at him quizzically, he had no patience for putting together the irritating puzzle of why he was familiar. It was rare when his memory failed him and it bothered him to no end that he couldn't place where he'd possibly seen him.

"I think I may have seen you before," he asked rather bluntly, "are you from this universe?"

Edited 2016-03-04 04:57 (UTC)

"I am. About a thousand years back, give or take."

So that confirmed what he'd been thinking. (Or so he thought.)

"Bart Allen, right?"

(Wrong.)

The name hit him like a slap across the face, and for a split second the kid actually looked as stricken as he felt, but the expression was gone as quick as it had appeared, replaced by a seething scowl.

He should have expected that, he didn't know why he hadn't. Of course someone he could recognized but couldn't place would be someone who knew Bart (though, likely not well).

"Thaddeus Thawne." He corrected as he glared up a Hal, his tone so frigid the name managed to almost sound more like a threat, and maybe in a way it was. He didn't care if this was someone who could recognize that last name, in fact, he half hoped that they did.

"And you are?"

For about half a second, Hal felt bad, because that flash of hurt wasn't quite fast enough for him to miss -

But that lasted all of until he got the name, and it was quickly tossed to the side in favor of wariness, because Thawne? He recognized that name, all right - and when had it ever preceded anything good?

"My mistake. You miss some things when you spend too much time dead or off-planet." Hal had always been one of the worst in the Justice League at keeping track of what was going on with everyone else, but even once he'd returned from the grave, and Barry after him, it was never as simple as picking up the phone to catch up when you were on the other side of the Andromeda Galaxy.

(He was certainly regretting not getting properly caught up on this story, though.)

"Hal Jordan."

That name and bit of information was more than enough to finally connect the dots.

"Green Lantern." There was a very tempting urge to add 'or Parallax?' to that confirmation, but even if it would have felt satisfying, he wasn't impulsive enough to give in to the compulsion. He was in no position to be making or seeking out enemies in this place (and frankly was in no position to judge). Not that this bit of logic put any amount of warmth back in his tone.

By the sound of it, Hal had been pulled from a point in the timeline after he'd been the Specter. Parallax would have been behind him at that point. His knowledge of Hal Jordan and the Green Lanterns as a whole was spotty, and even that was being generous. What he did know came from what little interaction Bart and Young Justice had with him; he'd been Green Lantern, became Parallax, sacrificed himself, became the Specter, became something of a mentor to one of the Young Justice members during that time, and according to the predicted timeline, was meant to take back the role of a Green Lantern again.

And of course, there was the fact that he'd been friends with Barry Allen, which certainly didn't do anything to endear him to the man, but that part was still...somewhat intriguing. This was someone who knew the being that had practically been built up as a kind of speedster boogeyman by his creators rendition of history. He knew him personally.

He would have known his ancestors as well, at least on some level. While his recollection of events would likely be skewed in that Allen's favor, there may still be something to be gained from another perspective of the events. So long as he didn't burn that bridge for the sake of petty revenge over an unintentional slip-up.

"Or had you not taken the ring back up yet?"

He didn't really have to mention Parallax, not when he was asking questions like that. Anyone who knew about Hal's temporary break from the Corps almost certainly knew the broad strokes of the story behind it, if not the finer points. And he wasn't particularly inclined to get into the finer points, anyway. Parallax was a conversation he was getting sick of having, considering that it was all most of the Legion had known him as until he wound up here.

So his reaction was a bit more restrained than it might've been if Thad had come right out and said it, but only just - the narrowing of his eyes suggested that the full implications of that question had been noticed, noted, and filed.

"Had it back for a while now."

Noting the change in Hal's expression a self-satisfied smirk faintly tugged at the edge of Thad's lips but vanished quickly enough that it would be hardly noticeable. Though the placid look he tried to replace it with was so smug he might have been better off wearing that smirk. That could have possibly been passed off as unintentional.

"You were still the Spector the last time I was in your century." Because let's continue to pretend he wasn't talking about Parallax. "But history records did indicate you would reclaim you place within the core. Good to know that wasn't falsified."

"You'll have a hard time finding anyone who wants to go to that kind of trouble to protect my reputation," Hal said, a bit dryly - though not, notably, bitterly. Because as frustrating as it could get, the fact that he'd burned a lot of bridges wasn't changing, the fact that people weren't going to forget it overnight was justified, and he wasn't really one to let what other people thought of him stand in the way of continuing on his way and doing what he needed to be doing.

"You would be surprised at the kind of information that can be lost to time, or what the people who write history might choose to tamper with. After all, as the saying goes, history is written by the winners and while I admittedly didn't have the most thorough history selection on the Lanterns, those I had access to did seem to have the propensity to paint you as something of a Legend." That response almost could have been a sign of respect or an attempt at assurance, if it didn't happen to come from a place of bitterness.

He knew all about those who rewrote history in their own favor, whether it was the Allens stepping on his ancestors to further prop themselves up, or (what was seeming to be closer to the truth) the possibly that his creator had tampered with the history files he'd fed him.

Speaking of which...

"And on the topic of legends, you were associated with Barry Allen, correct?"

That...didn't sound like something that would be worth lying about, so Hal was inclined to accept it even if his first thought was that it must've been a damned long time if they were saying that much about him without qualifying it with some pretty hefty footnotes. Greatest Lantern of all time, except for that stretch where he was undoubtedly the worst goddamned one, maybe.

Whatever history was saying about him, he wasn't worried about hearing it. They'd say things whether he liked it or not; no real point in caring that much about what those things were.

And then came the million dollar question, which he'd been figuring was going to come up somehow from the moment Thad had given his name. It was just a matter of who decided to go there first, really.

"He's my best friend." No hesitation; the response was firm and immediate - and not the tone of a man who sounded like he was going to stick around and listen if this went to trash-talking.

He gave a stiff nod, shifting to stand primly with his hands behind his back; his expressions now gave little away beyond curiosity.

Hal's reaction was noted though, as Thad had suspected he was very likely to be biased toward Barry. The tone indicating he wouldn't hear anything bad about his friend rang out loud and clear. If he wanted to get anything out of this man he was obviously going to have to be more careful with his wording and resist the instinct to speak out against his "grandfather".

"Right, and I suspect you would have known my ancestors as well?" He was fairly certain he had known at least Eobard, but with the legitimacy of his history files in question he had to be sure, otherwise, what was the point in pursuing this line of questioning any further?

"We had a few encounters," Hal said, a bit shortly.

There wasn't really much good to say about any of those incidents.

Good. So that much was still true.

"Would you mind if I inquired into your opinion of them?" As much as the question likely sounded like a setup and an attempt to goad the Lantern into saying something that would start an argument, that was at least mostly unintentional.

Hal's mind didn't jump straight to setup, exactly, but he did figure that Thad had to be expecting...nothing that great from him, with an opener like that. It wasn't like his biases in the situation weren't pretty obvious, and -

"If you know anything about me at all, I think you already know that I'm not going to sugarcoat this."

Blunt to the point of jackass was kind of his thing. And that was the warning shot, so to speak, but after giving it a moment, he continued.

"Eobard Thawne was insane." Trying to keep his tone even was about as close to diplomacy as Hal was capable of, but there was still a faint undercurrent of anger seeping in. "Something wasn't going the way he wanted it, he had to try to ruin it - to try to ruin Barry, and Iris, and Wally."

He wasn't expecting the other man to have a glowing opinion of any of his ancestors, by any means, but the remark that Eobard was insane was still unexpected.

As President of the planet fifteen years ago, Thad's creator had attempted to destroy the Flash Museum and many of the records on his ancestors. What little Thad had been able to dig up from what information remained had indicated they (or at least, Eobard) had not been the heroes he'd been told they were.

He'd convinced himself that this didn't necessarily mean that they were in the wrong in this feud (perhaps they were merely fighting back, or history had been written to favor the Allens). But even still, it was hard to deny that it was a far cry from the version of history he'd been fed, and his creator going to such lengths to bury the past was more than a little suspicious.

To some extent, what Hal said seemed to line up more with what information he had found, but flat out hearing he was insane, that he was some petty villain that wanted to ruin the Allens and West out of spite, set off a small spark of anger and he had to bite back the reaction to snap something loathsome back at him.

Perhaps the Lantern was just exaggerating out of contempt, perhaps not, either way turning nasty wouldn't get him any answers.

"Could you give an example of an instance where he did this?" While he tried to keep his expression impassive, his discomfort still showed in how he fidgeted and shifted his posture.

Oh, look. The kid was getting uncomfortable.

A small and petty part of Hal couldn't help but think, you damned well should be. But he shoved that thought to the side, because really, who knew what the hell this kid had been told? (And all things considered, Hal just wasn't good at staying mad at kids. He liked them too much for that. Generally speaking, anyway, because Thad was making it kind of hard here, but...)

"At one point he figured out how to swap places with Barry from prison in the future - I was never quite straight on the science for that one, Barry would probably explain it better. Made a matter distributor out of an electric razor, so he could make himself look like Barry...and took his place. For his wedding. Barry had to stage a jailbreak and break up his own wedding."

There was some contempt in his tone, certainly. But there was also a distinct undertone of not-quite-disbelief, because while Hal knew perfectly well that it had happened, on some level it still just seemed too ridiculous to get his mind around. Was there any purpose to pulling something like that, aside from a petty grudge?

As Hal spoke a range of emotions subtly flashed over the kids face; shock, disbelief, and anger, before settling on something harder to read as he forced himself to shove his emotions back into check, and he pensively bit his lip, running over the words in his head again.

That...That was nothing like any of the stories he'd heard. If anything it was closer to how Iris had depicted him in her book (something he had tried to disregard). There had been some mention of Eobard having feelings for Iris in most versions of history that he had been presented with (though having met the women, and read her book, he couldn't understand for the life of him why), and that he had been inspired by Barry Allen, even fell into idolization and imitation, but he'd certainly never heard of him stooping to that. It was uncomfortably close to what he'd pulled on Bart but seemed somehow even more vindictive.

This couldn't be right. The Eobard he'd studied, even if he was more violent than he'd been told, would never have done something like that. Part of him wanted to accuse Hal of lying, but what would he have to gain from it now outside of upsetting someone he likely perceived to be a child? Would he really be that vindictive against his ancestors? There had to be more to this.

From that hint of not-quite-disbelief in Hal's voice, this sounded less like a story he had been a part of and more like one he had been told or at least been partially told. This could just be Allens rendition of events. Part of him wanted to ask if that was the case but from Hal's reaction earlier, he was fairly certain that asking something that accusatory would mean the end of the conversation.

So instead, he once again gave a stiff nod, unconsciously making a face like he'd swallowed something unpleasant.

"And, how would you describe Barry Allen as a person?"

Edited 2016-04-05 05:49 (UTC)

That was the kind of question Hal would much rather answer, and his tone immediately warmed up a bit. "The nicest guy I know. He couldn't even pull off playing bad cop whenever we were trying to shake information out of somebody, it just wasn't him. He tried to find the bright side of everything."

There weren't many people who could successfully wield a Blue Lantern ring. Hal, for one, had sucked at it.

"He wasn't afraid to call anybody out for screwing up, of course, but you know, with some people that always feels like an insult? But it didn't with Barry." His arguments with Barry never felt as cutting as they did with, say, Ollie. "It just felt like he knew when someone could do better and he wanted them to live up to it. I-"

It wasn't often that Hal Jordan tripped over his own words, but something in that statement just caught an edge and wouldn't come out. For a moment, his gaze went to the side, away from Thad, and he sighed. He knew exactly what he was trying to say, it just -

"I was a better man whenever he was around."

- occurred to him now especially, when he'd had to have the Parallax conversation too many times with too many people, that his worst really had been when Barry wasn't around.

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Another head hangs lowly

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wikis up the craziest flash plot i haven't actually read...

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