2014.04.08 - How My Ma and Pa Raised Me

It's a perfect place for solitude and silence. At least for someone of the Super-family, dimensionally original or not. A nice balancing point between the Earth and moon's magnetic fields. Just enough atmosphere to breath and hear comfortably, but not so much that sounds hammer on the ears. The Watchtower is visible as a tiny speck a hundred miles distant, glimmering as a satellite of Earth.

It's here Superman comes when he just needs... some rest. Not sleep, not recreation, but a few moments of solitude, away from the world while never letting it out of his view. He floats serenely above the atmosphere with a minor effort of his power, moving in station keeping with the Earth--a lazy, reassuring sensation not akin to being buffeted by waves.

The thing about objects in the sky is that they're easier to spot, at least if one's vision is keen enough. As a result, the hypertime-lost soul known presently as "Prime" is able to finally spot the man he's been seeking for hours now. And he approaches.

Emerging from the lower atmosphere, Prime flies right up near Superman--and falters. He hovers there uncertainly and then draws nearer, expression creased in a frown, and calls across to the floating Man of Steel, "Superman! I--I need to talk to you."

Superman turns and regards Prime impassively. It's a poker face--those superhuman eyes discern in a moment much about Prime, so much about him that's wrong on so many levels. Though Superman doesn't know what in creation Prime is, or how he even exists, he can tell that the boy is something... different. And there's a reflexive tensioning of muscles that he has to force away as he turns.

"...well, you found me," Superman says with a low Kansas drawl. "I... You're not Kon," he says, the first words out of his mouth. "At least, you're not 'our' Kon," he observes. "It's close. So not to sound rude, but I have to ask up front if you're here looking for trouble or not," Superman says, his tone not unfriendly, but definitely a bit cool. "Maybe I've been hanging around with Batman too much, but I'm feeling a bit paranoid about someone who looks, sounds, and talks just like Superboy. Who are you?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious.

Prime holds up both hands, palms up and outward toward Superman, and he stops where he is. "N-no, I don't--I don't want any trouble!" The more he speaks, the more obvious his distress may be. Tension is visible in his expression, in his posture--really all through. He insists, almost plaintive, "I'm here because--I need your help!"

When Superman shows curiosity rather than aggression, the newcomer relaxes a bit. He explains uneasily, "I--don't totally know. I thought--I mean, I can't remember very much--but I thought I was Superboy. Or maybe you. Or... both. It's confusing. I think my name's 'K'el,' or... something like that. I decided to call myself Prime."

"Ok, calm down," Superman says, his tone shifting from a bit cool to the reassuring tones that have stopped wars from starting. He holds his palms out, a gesture to go with the words. "Look, sorry if I came off sounding unfriendly. I'm just getting a bit paranoid," he says apologetically.

"Look, K'el," Superman says, his tones gently reassuring. "You're upset, and you're agitated. That's ok. You're obviously a Kryptonian," he says, gesturing vaguely at the boy. "And belive me, I've had my share of bizarre, world-shifting circumstances. But you strike me like a decent kid," he says, his tones warm and friendly as his smile. "So take a breath, and let's start over. I'm Kal," he says, gesturing at himself vaguely. "You can call me Kal, or Superman, or whatever you like. What do you like to be called?"

Prime does seem to relax a bit at Superman's words, and he nods, lowering his hands to wrap his arms around himself, almost as if he were cold--though he clearly cannot be. "I don't really know. I chose the name Prime, but--K'el is okay, too. I don't even know if that's my name, either." He pauses, trying out, "Kal... it almost sounds like my name. But I'm not--anyway. Kal, I got here somehow. A man--Cable, he said--told me I'm not from this world. He thinks maybe my home reality was destroyed. He--he told me a lot of things." He seems wary, uncertain--lost. "He said I needed to learn to fight and kill. But... I think I remember that's wrong." He lifts one hand to rub at his temples. "All I know for sure is... Superman helps people. You're Superman."

Superman frowns, slowing and approaching Prime until they're in appropriate speaking distance. "Look... K'el," he says, choosing to use the familiar name the boy provided. "I'd be lying if I said killing's never right. Or necessary." His jaw clenches and his eyes flash. "I don't know if you're... some clone of Kon, or someone lost between the worlds, or a younger version of me, or anything like that."

"But I can tell you that... if you want to be like me, like Kon, then the first step is to realize that just because you have the strength to kill someone doesn't mean you should," he says. His speech is not impassioned or eloquent--but earnest, with the bedrock belief of simple, honest faith behind it. "True strength is holding back. Suffering a bit, even, instead of killing someone. When you take a life, you can't ever take that back. You undo any good they'd have ever done in the future of their life," he explains. "So I don't know who this Cable is, but... I don't think he's one of us. He's not of Krypton. I'm not your boss or your father--I'm just a man who tries to fix things," Superman explains, his tones still gentle. "And if you like the idea of helping people, the first step is learning how to use your strength to help instead of hurt."

Relief floods Prime's features and form at this. He nods emphatically with Superman's words, saying, "Y-yes. That's what I thought. I knew killing wasn't... something done easily. It feels too wrong." At the pointed statement about not being his "boss" or "father," Prime gives another slow nod. "I... I know. I'm nothing to you. I just... I want to do what's right. And I'm... lost. Just lost." He rubs his temples with both hands, sighing slowly. "Not much of my memory is left. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be bothering you, but... I don't know where else to go."

Superman shakes his head. "Like you said. I'm Superman. I help people." He drifts closer to Prime and clasps his shoulder, giving him an earnest, reassuring look with those farmboy blue eyes. "But I'm not the only one who does. There's an entire group of people-" he nods at the Watchtower--"who help people. Even someeon who looks a lot like you. I bet if you came with me and met them, they'd be willing to talk with you. Help you work out who you are--who you want to be. I can tell just talking to you that you're confused and a bit scared."

"No need for that," Superman concludes. "I can't tell you what's right and wrong. I'm not God. Not my place. But I can tell you how I do things, and if that sits right with you, well, I'd like to think I'm doing my job," he says with a warm smile. He squeezes Prime's shoulder and releases. "How's that sound to you?"

Prime looks no less troubled or confused, but he does seem perhaps more hopeful than before. "I... I don't know how I feel about your other people. Do you mean--The Justice League? I'm not..." he trails off, shaking his head. "I don't need... a god. I just need to know what to do. I... I trust you. You're Superman." He doesn't seem to know quite what else to say, except: "Please. Just... tell me what I have to do!"

"You don't have to do anything, son," Superman says in that deep voice, his tones gentle and reassuring. His cape moves in the tiny, fitful eddies of wind at that altitude. "That's the first and hardest thing about deciding to do something great--to be something greater than yourself. Most people spend their life not doing anything. Others spend their lives doing things just to help themselves. If you're the kind of person who wants his life to have meaning, though--real meaning-, well I believe the only way to do that is to help people, not yourself." Superman says with a small spread of his hands. "But that's how my ma and pa raised me. And I feel pretty good about myself, all things said."

"I want to help," Prime says, nodding. "I want to do the right thing. It's... what I'm supposed to do." He spreads his hands a bit. "But I don't even really know who I am. You... remember your parents. I don't even know if I had any. I don't know anything about... myself. How do I help others? The world is so damaged. So filled with... wrong." He shudders. "Cable showed me people who murdered mutants. For entertainment. And then he killed THEM in front of me." He shaking, just a little. "I was so angry. I wanted to hurt them. Then he killed them... and I don't know what's right."

"I think you do," Superman says, his tones quietly reassuring. "I think if you thought he was right--really right--we wouldn't be having this talk."

His posture relaxes, floating on the eddies on the cusp of the void, and he looks out almost thoughtfully towards the dim stars in the distance.

"I'm not saying what those people were doing was right. I'd be angry, too. But if you start taking justice into your own hands, you start thinking that maybe you're the one best equipped to make decisions for people," Superman explains, looking back at K'el. "And that's the start of corruption. When you think that your might gives you the right to be in charge. The more you think you deserve to make those choices for people, the more corrupt you are--until you think that you've got the right to kill anyone, for any reason you want."

"It's tough, having strength. Not because it makes things easier, but because it makes things harder. The difference between a good man and a bad man is how hard a fellah works at finding a solution. A bad guy--not a villain, just... a weak man--will find the shortest, most violent solution. A strong man looks for the hardest solution, to save the most lives. Even the villain's," he admits. "That's what makes a hero. Not saving lives, but sparing them."

"Yes," Prime says, nodding emphatically. "That sounds RIGHT. It... sounds like things I sort of remember. Maybe important things." He squints, frowning, and then says, "Cable told me a story. He said there was a beach, and starfish kept getting stranded on the beach, washed out of the water, and they were drying out and dying." He rubs his forehead again. "Then a boy comes along and starts throwing the starfish back into the sea, one at a time. An old man sees him, and he asks the boy, 'Why are you doing that? There are thousands of them. You can't possibly save enough of them to make a difference.'" Prime looks carefully at Superman as he finishes, "And the boy answers by picking up a starfish and throwing it back into the water, saying, 'It made a difference to that one.'" His eyes light a bit as he asks, "I told him that was what you did. You make a difference. And you give people hope."

"So I guess the question is, who do you want to be?" Superman asks Prime, his tone still gentle. He is not commanding or overbearing--his presence is simply... stalwart. A man convinced of his own righteousness, in the old, bedrock-faith sense of the word. Decent. Honorable.

"Do you want to be the man fighting the tide, ignoring the fish, or making a difference wherever he can?" Superman asks the younger man, adjusting his cape so it cloaks his shoulders. "If you're willing to do that last, I'll help you, however I can. Because there's another old parable I like--how it doesn't take any effort to light one candle with another, and drive away the darkness with each candle you light," he smiles.

"I don't want to ignore people," Prime answers. "I want to do the right thing. Please, tell me how to be like you." He pauses, then says more firmly, "I'm supposed to be like you. You're Superman. I'm--whatever I am. But I know people want to be good. They..." he hesitates, looking Superman in the eyes, and then repeats the bit of fragmented quote that's been lodged in his memory: "'They only lack the light to show the way.'"

"C'mon," Superman says, drifting a few yards towards the Watchtower. "You look like you've had a long day. How about some food and some friendly faces?" he suggests. "I'm sure there are people there you'll like. They'll like you, too. And they'll have some perspectives on things that might help you sort out what you want out of..." he gestures vaguely. "All this," he says. Life. The world. Everything.

Nodding, Prime says, "All right." He moves toward The Watchtower as well, following Superman's lead. "I... guess I'm hungry. And any allies of yours would be... good to meet." He seems reticent, wary--but still curious and even hopeful, all the same. He does seem to be giving Superman his trust, at least for now.