2013-01-30 An Unlikely Reunion

All of the towering buildings on the island of New Troy almost make the place seem like a magical floating landmass made of metal and concrete. Bits of shore line peak out between all of the skyscrapers. Dawn is still three hours away from lifting her head up, doing away with the night's reign. Hawkman is staring off toward the sea. His mind is adrift like the landmass he's on, lost on the waves of yesteryear. Between the sounds of the city, an alien noise and sight brought the winged hero back to reality. Peering downward he spots what looks to be a homeless man running into some trouble that seem to only be about when the sun goes to slumber.

Namor was aware of the two men following behind him and had been for some time. But he wanted to give the surface a benefit of a doubt for a change. He had long hated the surface, that wasn't fair. He had a love/hate relationship with it. That was why he had chosen to face the surface not as a super man but instead as a transient. Societies were judged best by the way they treated its weak.

He still walked slowly away from the two muggers pretending not to notice them. Waiting to see if they're intentions were what he thought they were and if they were, they were in for a surprise.

Saying Carter Hall is a survivor, even after coming back to this plane of existence umpteen times since many years before the death of Christ, would be wrong. He always survived but it was to fight and love another day never to survive. It's more apt to call him a fighter and a lover. At least it was in the last lifetime.

In his last lifetime, Hall was the original Hawkman. He fought crime during a different age of hero where the times were a little brighter even if it was in secret during the Cold War. Back then the bad guys were clearer to see, and she was there by his side.

Now through a twist of fate Hall was Hawkman once again with the same civilian name to boot born thirty-five years ago to Derrick and Sheila Hall. Unfortunately it was the love to fight that cost Carter dearly. For every lifetime his beloved was with him. Whether her name was Cinnamon of the old west, gumshoe by the name of Sheila Carr, or the first Hawkgirl, his other have was always there except for this life time. In this lifetime Carter was separated from the one person he cares most about because he did not want to stop fighting.

These actions caused the bind the lovers had to break a little. Today's Carter Hall became fascinated with history and dirt from a young age. These interests came together in the field of biology where Hall made a name for himself. During a dig many years ago Carter started to figure out who he was deep down.

With these recent discoveries that came to life Hall focused his efforts on new sites finding pieces of himself that he pocketed and smuggled away while crew collected the majority of each site. Shadows of Hall's past came to life with every artifact; people he set up in the past life came out from these same places giving Carter the deed to a penthouse in the historic district of Metropolis.

Metropolis is a big place and a local university was happy to hire on someone with Hall's background, a Ph.D. in archeology with strong emphasis in history, as a part-time staff upon his asking. The reason for a part-time position instead of a full-time one was because of a familiar costume that came with the penthouse.

The old costume was used as a template for some needed updates and the result was the look of the new Hawkman. Maybe it was absence of his lover or just a reflection of the times, but this Hawkman was a little darker adorned with deeper colors, brown leather swapping out the bright yellow, and the assortment of weapons all told the story that this was not the same Hawkman as before taking to the skies toward a new fight.

Seeing the two with bad intentions only force Hawkman's hand. The dark green pants of his costume shift as he stands, dark red boots gleam against the moonlight, reaching behind his back to pull out the knife resting in his sheath, and before long Hawkman swoops down to strike the fear of God into them. "Duck!" Hawkman cries out to the homeless man and he tries to snag one of the muggers before they have a chance to do any damage. Grabbing the one, Hawkman's eyes narrow beneath his mask, the knife shimmers in the light, "Don't," he snarled.

Fear strikes the man and freezes him in place. A clattering noise of a still man's switchblade as it slips from his grasp. Obviously, Hawkman's ten-inch blade is much bigger. Pinning the man in place against a wall Hawkman tries to shoot the second man a look to make him run. What awaits the hero is unexpected.

Namor was in shock to be honest. He had played this game twice in Manhatten and now once here in Metropolis. Heroes had always arrived but never a ghost from his past. It was Carter Hall, the Hawkman. Had the air soaring ally of Namor during the Cold War survive? Not only survive, but thrive as he seemed to have not lost a single step since they last fought together... nearly 40 years ago. Though to be fair it was not as if Namor had lost his own prowess. It was just odd for the surface dwellers to be as resilient.

Namor removed his hat and hood and reacted instantly, moving swiftly and knocking the second assaliant unconcsious in a single blow, possible cracking his skull open in the process, "Hawkman! It is good to finally see a familiar face among the surface dwellers."

Of all the things Hawkman expected that voice is one of the last. "Namor!?" Hawkman cries out with a voice that eases up on the tone. The mugger starts to lose his fright before a "thud" fill the air. A well-placed head-butt sends the mugger to the land of unconsciousness. One of the great things about having a mask that is actually a helmet, it doubles as a weapon. As the mugger goes limp Hawkman faces his old partner.

Times, like Hawkman's costume, are different now. Standing before the sea-king is a Hawkman missing his Hawkwoman, the costume has more of the theatric elements to it, and a lot more weapons from the mace that hangs at his side, the knife that is resheathed behind his back. "You're back?" Hawkman finally asks.

With a grin Namor replied, "Not entirely, but Atlantis has been isolated from the world for too long. It is time to change that again. These are... scouting tours so to speak. But my face is still remembered from both my time with the Invaders and with the Justice Society."

He gestured to the old clothing, an unconventional look for the Avenging SOn, "I instead decided to go in quietly, heance the disguise."

He looked at Hawkman's new look and gauged it, it was more brutal in appearance than the last time they met, but it was a more brutal time on the surface it seemed, "I am surprised to see you active still, my ally. Most of our old comrades are retired."

Now comes the hardest part of this conversation. With a heavy breathe Hawkman just looks down, "I am and I'm not the partner you remember. I died decades ago. When I did I became reincarnated into this body. Somehow the old name managed to survive. What I didn't tell you or anyone else back then was about my memories. Are you familiar with Reincarnation? Some believe that the soul never dies, it just travels from lifetime to lifetime. I can tell you it's true."

Incase Namor doesn't buy it, Hawkman readies himself to grab the mace, "If you don't believe me...remember that time Teddy said he could handle himself? How much scotch did he drink that night before we went to Moscow under Jimmy's orders?"

Namor raised a eyebrow, "I hear that my old friend Captain America walks the earth again after his own death," He considered a moment, "If I can accept that I can accept you can be reinincarnated as yourse but not."

He removed his jacket and shoes to let his body breathe some more, his tiny wings streching out wide as they are released from the confinds of their boots, "And Atlantean mystical arts know about the concepts of reincarnation so it is not a subject foreign to me. I just can not believe you never told me."

"Why don't I take you back to the loft, I'll ditch the costume and we go find a place with a good brew?" Hawkman suggests. Sometimes the man really hates "The Now," probably because of the one person missing in his life. Seeing Namor is like having a little slice of the past in today's world. The world may not remember the Justice Society but in Hawkman's mind the secrecy made them stronger. Like the military men and women before and after them, the Society is a brotherhood. "If you ever need a place to crash...I've got a guest bed. Coming out before dawn isn't a good way to judge. Sometimes you gotta get out in the day too."

Namor grinned, "That sounds acceptable, Hawkman. It would be nice to once again have someone to reminisce with. While people remember Namor, the Invaders, the JSA... the context is lost. And Captain America is to entrenched with the United States government for me to approach him."

He glanced at the unconscious theives and looked at them with pity, something the Namor of 40 years ago would not have done. Looking back to Hawkman he said, "Lead the way, I shall follow as swiftly as you can travel." Looking around Hawkman pulls out some plastic ties from a pouch then fastens to the two men together with one time then binds them together with a second tie connect to a street light. Hawkman then pushes off the ground, "Keep up," then starts to head toward the outskirts of the Historic District. Luckily Namor would have no trouble keeping up thanks to the water that comes between metropolis. The route may have been a little roundabout, but Hawkman is easy to pick out. Waiting for the sea-king on the roof, Hawkman stands on the rooftop to his building. When Namor eventually makes it Hawkman says, "Ready?"

By the time Namor had arrived on the rooftop he had discard the rest of his clothing save for the green scaled bottoms and golden belt that he seemed to always wear.

"I am always ready," Namor said in a matter-of-factly tone. The former Prince, now King of Atlantis always took offense when someone suggested he was not prepared. He would always claim that Atlanteans were always ready, unlike surface dwellers.

"Are you gonna wear those while we're out?" Hawkman points to the pants before opening a door. On the roof rests a small entryway that looks like a hut made of concrete and brick. Walking down the flight of stairs Carter opens the door, the only door on the top floor. A nice penthouse greets the two of them. The place is an infusion of modern and classic design. All of the floors have an old wooden feel, the red carpet in spots give it an air of sophistication, in the living room is a sixty-inch flat screen with a blu-ray player but the vast majority of the blu-ray discs are for movies made before the year 2000, the kitchen hosts a fridge with a retro casing on the outside that looks straight out of the 50s with the smooth curves and muted light green color but has all of the modern features, various kitchen aid and high quality cooking gadgets and gizmo are neatly scattered throughout the kitchen in their appropriate places, Hawkman is heading toward the study a room that has wall to wall books in book cases, a few pieces of leather furniture that look to be from the thirties maybe the forties.

Pulling at a copy of "Anthony and Cleopatra," one of the book cases moves back then to the side revealing a place that looks to be the exact same size as Hawkman's apartment. "Old tricks I remember from the days of slavery. Don't remember much about the places, just how to hide peoplecame in handy during prohibition," Hawkman says before stepping into a place that looks like a museum. As the wooden floors continue a sea of assorted cases stand proudly holding different items. Pieces of a sword from a night with the name "Kent," the spear and some stone heiroglpyhics from a man named "Khufu," grave rubbings from many different men and women scale up a support beam. In one of the bigger cases rests the remains of the old Hawkman uniform or as a few of the secret documents refer to him, "The Hawk." Sitting next to his uniform is what remains of the Hawkman uniform.

Pulling off the helmet Carter Hall stares at the case holding the two uniforms and he runs a hand affectionately down the glass, "How long have you been coming to the surface world?" Pausing the man with short brown hair, which was blonde in Namor's day, with sandy color eyes, blue back then, look toward Namor. "You may not be the only sea-fearer around anymore. The world is starting to explode with costumes and powers."

Namor studied Carter's face, "You are the same. The color is different, as if a child had recolored a picture... the soul behind the eyes is the same," he tilted his head as if he was considering something, "Interesting."

He glanced around the room they were now in. He remembered some of these details from the Carter Hall he knew, yet it was more... refined more complete. Finally he answered Hawkman's questions, "I have been back on the surface world for five months now. Nearly always in my disguise. I've encounter a man who of armor and magic, a true ally. A girl who could befriend one of the sea dragons. A British man who smoked too much. A beautiful pop singer who was a mutant. An emerald goddess. And a socialite who was deeper than anyone realized."

It was not surprising that Namor ended his recollections with woman, he was always the ladies man, even fourty years ago.

"There are more costumes, more powers. But less legends, less... us. Those who shaped destiny with every mission, with every action. I feel sorry for this generation of surface dwellers"

"Not a legend. Just an old guy that likes the thrill of a fight...," another sigh escapes his lips as he looks back to the costume display, "Maybe a little too much," the words are laced with sadness. "I haven't met many but you hear the stories whether people whisper them in rumors or the papers broadcast it to the world."

"I heard Cap was back...that's a legend that lives up to the name. Guys like me, Teddy, a few others were just guys doing our part, that loved alotta things."

"I've only glimpsed him from afar, but I am certain that the Captain America the United States Government speaks of is the same one I fought with nearly fourty years before I fought with you." Namor almost seems said when he adds, "I refuse to approach him now though. He is too tied to this government, I cannot speak with him until I reveal myself to the surface."

He nodded suddenly, "But I missed this, the comradere of those like you. We walked the world as legends, and now we have to witness what the world we created. Even our name has been usurped. The Justice Leauge... I prefered Society, at least it made it seem as if all cultures were respected."

"Then there's the new cultures the world we created is starting to show. Hear rumors of the Batman? What about those Spider guys in New York? And the Fantastic Four? None of these people could be so open about it with guys like us, like you and Cap did for us. So, what have you been up to these days? Have a Queen yet?" he asks softly unsure where to begin and to catch up.

Pulling off the straps to his uniform, the wings come off before he hangs them up. Next to come off are the boots followed by the pants and belt. Dressed in only his boxerbriefs Carter walks off to his bedroom to grab a pair of gray cargo pants, a black t-shirt, and a red flannel shirt. Grabbing an olive green pair of cargo pants and a Black Sabbath shirt, Carter walks to his friend handing him the extra clothes. "These will help you blend."

Waving off the extra clothing Namor says, "I will be back in the ocean before even your technology will find me. I don't need to wear those garbs again. It is easy enough to find clothing at the homeless shelters that litter your society."

Carter smirks then heads to the kitchen, "C'Mon, and what have you been up to," he waves for his friend to follow. Going to the fridge he pulls out two Altottingers, a name of a German beer he considers like liquid bread. Handing Namor one Carter pulls off the cap of the other one with ease. The glass barely kisses his lips before pulling it away. He holds up the bottle, "To better days?"

"I have been ruling a kingdom, one that takes up 71 of this planet. It is not exactly the easiest job to consider," Namor said as he watched Carter take that drink, "The better days are both behind us and before us."

"But those days... I miss Toro, Hammond, Jim, Robert, Johnny, Rex, and the rest." He looked around the room again and said, "We had it all figured out and all solved, yet we really didn't have it figured out did we?"

"No. Not the long term anyway. If we knew how the long term was gonna be, if you and cap knew how it was gonna be...maybe things would have been done differently by all of us." Taking a big swig of that beer Carter let out a satisfied "Aaah," before looking at Namor, "I don't think you should stay hidden forever. Take your rightful place before the U.N. as King of Atlantis."

"That is the plan... but before I commit to that I need to know the surface world is ready," Namor said seriously, his nostalgia fading away, "Your culture seems to think people like me, what do they call them, Mutants are the enemy. That those who were born ot powers.. not aliens like your Superman, not reincarnates like you... they are acceptable... the ones like me are not."