2013.04.28 - Legion Founders - Together again for the first time...

It's the beautiful golden hour over Metropolis, her shining towers brilliant and all the air set ablaze, all the colors tinged just so. It promises to be a beautiful sunset, rich reds and oranges and golds, salmon and pink and far above, an imperial violet.

There's already a little imperial violet in the sky, as Rokk Krinn hovers above the city, near a fluttering pennant. Predominantly black uniform, with a rounded 'Y' of his contrasting dark purple just to his belt. Rings and discs, of course. He's got his flight ring up to his face, other arm across his stomach, and he's saying patiently, "We haven't ratified yet. One of our charter five isn't a member yet. We don't have /Garth/ yet...we can't offer him membership yet. There's the powers clause--" He /does/ go on and on. Thing is it's over broadcast.

Well hell, was the Legion ring actually -working- here for once? Garth'd flown a long way, here and there, after a temporal blip. If it was anything like the one where one of Triplicate Girl's had disppeared into, he was a -long- way from home. And this was, well... the 21st century, or so he could tell. It looked a -lot- like Clarkie-boy's city, it seemed, but he couldn't be sure.

And then a somewhat familiar voice, one that couldn't possibly be -right- because it sounded so -old-, shot through his comm.

Well hell with it anyway, he was going to go there and see what was up.

"For grife's sake, I'm -here-" Garth exclaims, addressing his flight ring. "You sound -way- too much like a bureaucrat. Hold up, I'll join you. Gimme a minute... where're you...?"

"You whaaat?" Rokk's voice comes over the comm, and then he says, "Everybody, shut up. Garth, I'm going up over the top of the Daily Planet globe. Here, I'm waving--" Yeah good old Protocol Lad.

And the closer Garth gets, the more built and, well, adult Cos looks. And when Cos homes in on Garth's electromagnetic field and faces the approaching Legionnaire, and Garth's close enough to see, yeah. The Braalian's older than Mekt. Not as old as their dad, but in his mid-thirties. A grown-up. But one that's still dressed more or less right...

"Oh grife!" Garth exclaims, as he skids to a stop in mid-air, pulling up so fast that one could almost see the air currents -sweep- up in mini-swirls at his feet.

The young ginger Legionnaire stares at Rokk, pointing a finger at him accusing.

"You sprokkin' got OLD!!!"

"And once again, Live Wire-- or are you Lightning Lad?-- changes his codename to Captain Obvious," Cos says with a crooked grin. "You figure out you're in the past yet? Nevermind the /wrong/ past?" At least his body language is exactly the same. His face is the same, his expressions-- it's just not twenty anymore. It's fifteen years older than that. But it's /Rokk/! Not-quite-smirks, actual sincerity, air of natural charismatic authority. "For now just go with it, okay? Tell me how you got here, bro."

Rubbing his soul patch absently with his prosthetic hand, Garth allows, "Grife, Rokk... you been here longer than I have to get this -old-?" Wrinkling his nose, the Winathian glances all about. "It looks like we're in Clarkie's era. Or are we supposed to call him -Superman- now?"

Bringing a hand up to show a bit of crackle around his index finger, Garth smirks. "Lightning Lad, and don't you forget it, Rokk. Unless you've got that old-man brain disease already. What did they call it here... Schwarzeneggar's disease?"

Abruptly, Garth's thoughts shift. "Hey, Rokk! You seen Imra?"

"Um-- no, I got-- I mean, sprocksake I'm not /old/, anyway..." Rokk is sort of mutteryface by the end, trailing under Garth's rapid switches of attention. "I haven't seen Superman yet and I don't know if he knows us, so definitely keep his name on the DL, okay?" For that part, he grabs at Garth magnetically, holding his hands up and waving them in Garth's field of vision. "Focus, Ranzz. I'm not from the same universe as you. *Imra is not from the same universe as you*. She's also a little scarred right now. So go easy on her. And *keep Superman's name secret*."

"Not the same universe...?" Garth blinks. "Imra's not...? Wait, what? What the sprokkin' hell are you talking about?"

Running a hand through his hair, Garth cants his head to the side as though reassessing Rokk. "You -sure- you don't got Schwarzeneggar's disease? Because, for some sprockin' reason, I don't think we're even -talking- in the same galaxy here. So... you're not Rokk, Imra's not Imra, and... what in sprockin' hell are you then? One of Brainy's schroedinger kitties he keeps talking about shooting?"

"... no. Are you seriously telling me you're from a Legion that's never met Legions from other timelines?" Crossing his arms, Cos looks immensely skeptical. His feet, loosely together and pointed down until now, wiggle impatiently. "Grife, Garth. Did I make you watch that old Earth 2d show? Star Trek? With the hot girl in the red miniskirt and the sexy voice? And that episode where they crossed over into a mirror universe where everyone was evil and the guys all had goatees? Yeah. There are other universes. You make a decision, bam, you have chosen one of at least two potential timelines. Those timelines exist out there somewhere. Infinite alternatives. Some utterly alien. But-- Garth-- there's a Legion in every one of them."

Heartbeat.

"Infinite Imras, Garth. Think about it."

"... oh mama, I think I'm gonna love it here," Garth says, eyes glazing over. "Can we stay here?"

"We just might have to," Cos says, halfassedly rolling his eyes, but more or less turning it into the beginning of turning around to point down toward a dirty, sad part of the glittering city. "Temporary HQ is over there in Suicide Slum. Try not to be a complete nasshead to Legionnaires you don't know. I'm not sure where Imra is right now, but she'll eventually turn up there. Plus you can, uh." Sidelong glance, as Cos starts flying down toward where he'd been pointing, "Take a shower. Maybe shave."

"That's your plan?" Garth replies, as he follows. "We're going to camp out in the middle of some place called -Suicide Slum-? Whose bright idea was this, Brainy's?"

Descending in front of the headquarters, Garth grunts. "Okay. Sonic shower and... what's wrong with my beard? It's -fashion-. I don't care if you think it looks like a bugblatter grew on it, you're one to talk."

Coming short of the door and staring at the sign, Garth tilts his head back at Rokk. "Okay, so this -was- your idea. Next time, can't you name it something more obvious? Like "Target Practice"?

"Says the guy with 'Lad' in his codename," snorts Cos, alighting and pushing the door open. "And no, it's a /water/ shower. With /soap/. And a /towel/. You look like you dropped food on your chin and left it there, man. Only keep it if Imra likes it." He waits until Garth's in before shutting the door behind him. "Rent's cheap here. It's been a project to try and clean up while I was waiting for anyone else to show up. I've been here six or seven months. Food's in the white machine over there, if you've seriously not time travelled enough to know how to use a TwenCen kitchen, don't try or you'll burn the place down. Barracks thataway, showers and sorta-gym that way. I'm going to go get beer because gods, tonight is a beer night."

"Water. Soap. Towel." Now Garth looks at Rokk like -he- was the barbarian. "What kind of backward hole is this... you couldn't find anything better? Grife, why not just ask us to hole up in a cave like grim, obsessed creatures of the night?"

Rubbing his facial hair, Garth shakes his head, as he studies Rokk. "And speaking of which, what in grife's name are you wearing anyway? You look like you're ready to be buried in those."

Meanwhile, with an Imra around, there are always side-conversations going on. ~Always, silly girl. But only come if you want to meet Garth. I just wanted to make sure you knew, in case you weren't ready.~ "It's /twencen/, meathead," Rokk says to Garth, irritably, reaching over to shove him lightly. "Sonic showers aren't /invented/ yet. Also, you're reaching now, so quit while you're ahead."

"So we should invent it already and get it over with," Garth replies. "Hook Brainy up... is he even here?"

Scratching his goatee with the prosthetic hand, Garth sighs. "Well, if we're not even sure we're going home, in whatever universe we're supposed to be from, shouldn't we be breaking down the mirrors getting home already... ooo, hey, so that's what this box is for?"

Garth had discovered the refrigerator, complete with different food and things. Picking up a wrapped up ... thing, Garth ponders the container of peanut butter, before opening it up and dipping his fingers in it. Unwashed and all.

And then he noms it off his hands. "Not bad, Cos... what's this stuff sipposed to be? It's kind of like glue... oh grife, did I just eat one of Brainy's experiments -again-?"

An Imra around. Just remember that. An Imra.

Either way, as a certain thought cast reaches Imra, or at least the Imra who's around here...

Well, let's start with the basics. Imra might not have been doing much, but as that 'call' comes in...

Scratch that. Just what can be said to make this effective? What ever Saturn Girl was doing is kind of forgotten as Rokk puts out his call to her. She actually freezes for a little bit.

And then. Slowly she gets up from where she is in the warehouse, zeroes in on where the 'elder' Legionaire is (just wait, one of these days some Legionaire will tell him to 'Eat it Grandpa' due to his age, and it certainly won't be Imra), and almost runs. It's not full speed, but well...

As she gets close enough that she can even see Rokk and who he's talking to she pauses yet again. Scouting. Scouting is something that Tinya Wazzo is good at. Not the kind with merit badges and attacking people in order to get them to buy cookies. But sneaking around and investigating? Check. And that's a lot of what this Tinya has been doing... since it helps keep her mind off the fact that there is a Jo Nah here who isn't the one she recently met, that Rokk isn't the same, that... who cares, none of these folks are from her slice of the Legionnaire pie. She's even reasonably circumspect when arriving at their half-finished warehouse/living quarters/clubhouse, walking in on foot rather than flying.

As she meanders through the living space, she hears voices in the kitchen area, or at least near the fridge, and she makes her way in that direction, smiling as the voice of Garth Ranzz turns into actually seeing him, but then, is he the same Garth she remembers? Unerringly, Cos' blue eyes turn to lock on Imra's own, and he lifts his eyebrows slightly, but doesn't make any other indication; he's mentally silent, just waiting for her. Her move. "It's... it's peanut butter, Garth. And now it's all yours. Your hands are /gross/." Cos sounds, basically, /exactly like Cos should/. How close does any of them -need- to be? The essence is there. For every one of them, the essence is there.

"Whatever, Cos," Garth says as he takes the jar, leaving the refrigerator door open as he continues to eat, his prosthetic hand digging in deeper into the jar before he comes up with peanut butter on his mouth. "Man, this stuff makes you thirsty," he mumbles, peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth and distorting his speech. "And my hands are -not- gross. Now where's the disinfectant?"

And as Garth just eats that, and well...

Imra is just kind of frozen. Her eyes wide. After all....

It sounds like Garth. It looks a heck of a lot like Garth. But considering what happened the last time she saw /her/ Garth...

Yeah, she almost misses Tinya entering. She gives the other woman a silent nod in greeting before finally, she says something telepathically.

<>

"What's going on?" Tinya asks as she approaches the others, still trying to get used to the fact that people are different. The same, the /core/ yes, but the differences sort of throw her still. A dark eyebrow rises at the sight of Garth stuffing his face with... brown stuff that looks like a baby's poo. "I think I'm gonna be ill..."

"Garth is trying to get shoved in a locker," Cos says cheerfully, going to close the refrigerator door, then thinking better of it and getting beer out first. THEN he closes the door. "I mean, I don't know, maybe he got dropped on his head as a baby too many times in his universe, but I'm pretty sure he's trolling. Imra, is he trolling?" He offers Tinya one of the two beers he took out. It is PBR as he was told it was 'hip'. "This is kind of gross, but at least it's alcoholic. From here on in I'm letting Jo pick the booze."

"For grife's sake, Rokk, you sound like my dad," Garth says, as he automatically responds to the instruction to disinfect his hand, putting the peanut butter jar down first.

It's only after he washes his hands off that Garth turns around, pausing to stare at Imra, then towards Tinya, then focuses again on Imra.

"Wow," Garth says. "Your eyes are so... so blue."

There's actually a smile at that. it's faint, and somewhat meek and timid, but it's a smile.

"And you're alive." is all Imra can say at that, before slowly her smile grows. For a moment or two it looks like Imra is remaining calm, and collected, and in control of herself. Then for another moment it looks /almost/ like she's gonna throw herself at Garth and shout 'You're alive' at the top of her lungs.

But instead, the telepath from Titan takes a deep breath, fighting to keep her emotions in check and to /not/ do anything impulsive. But it's a close thing. Insanely close.

<> is telepathically said, all though that in itself does come with a slight hint of off emotion mixed in it, possibly betraying how conflicted Imra feels at the moment.

Tinya Wazzo shoots a look toward Imra to see how she takes the 'blue' comment, then the telepath's reply causes that expression to shift into some kind of concern, even as she takes the beer from Rokk and vaguely wrinkles her nose. "I'd almost be afraid of what kind of alcohol this Jo Nah would fetch for us..." she finally says aloud as she samples the local brew and then wrinkles her nose. With a shrug, she keeps on drinking a little more. "I'm sure there's worse around here," she adds, mostly under her breath.

"This town's biggest problem is mediocre beer," Cos agrees, his eyes also on Garth and Imra. He pops open his own beer, sips, makes a face, sighs. "Whatever he picks has /got/ to be better than this. This isn't the worst, but I've never met a Jo who didn't like good beer better than bad beer." And he leans against the counter next to the fridge like it's a console. In the meanwhile, in his head, ~Let me know if you want us out of here or chaperoning,~ he thinks at Imra. Then he glances at Tinya again. "Are you half-Carggite?"

Abruptly reminded that Rokk'd warned him -something- about infinite Imras and mirror universes, Garth flashes the older Legionnaire a look of panic, followed by a stammer. "Uh... sorry. It's just that the Imra I knew had, uh... very pink eyes." He traces out the rather unique eyebrows that Imra had.

And if Imra looked closer, she might note the lightning bolt scar across his right eye, which would stand out more when he used his electricity. Not that he was, at the moment.

"Uh... you know, all this stuff about multiple universes..." Garth says, glancing towards Rokk, then Tinya. "We're not just any-when-, we're also any-verse?"

Yes... But wouldn't Garth kinda like 'infinite Imras'?


 * Cough*

Dunno.

But as Gath makes that motion, Imra quirks an eyebrow. At least for a moment. That is before it /looks/ like her eyebrow is altering. And her eyes are changing color. They're not exact, but well...

"Something like this?" is asked before there's a brief glance at Cos and Tinya as they discuss beer and Jo.

Tinya Wazzo shifts her gaze from Legionnaire to Legionnaire. "Infinite realities... all sorts of crazy things could have happened," she says quietly, and then she throws Cos a rather disturbed look. "Are you out of your mind? My mom and a Carggite? Grife!" A shiver runs through the dark-haired woman and she shakes her head. "I'm the only me there is, all right?"

"... that's probably not healthy," Rokk butts in helpfully, "just saying." Then he glances to Tinya again. "Hey, bad boys run in the family, some universes. It's not that much of a stretch." He calls back over to Garth and Imra, "Yeah, we're anywhen and anyverse. That does not give you license to start a Legion reality show. We don't have to put up with Trudy Trusoe here. Look-- you kids get acquainted. And sock me next time I say that, because it's not funny anymore. I've got a sunset to watch."

"Who's Trudy Trusoe?" Garth asks blankly, before eyeing Tinya, tilting his head. "Man, you're... uh... you're Tinya, are you? Because the Tinya I remember had these really beady little eyes..."

Wait, was this where he was usually told to stop talking?

Casting a quick look at Imra, Garth decides maybe he just needs to follow... what...

"Uh, yeah, something like... are you reading my mind?" Garth says, eyes widening. "Huh, then you know, uh..." Blah...

Abruptly, Garth turns to follow Rokk. "Move over, I need a silverpop."

"Um... I have no idea..." Tinya says, nodding once to the others and just doing what seems to be the sanest sort of thing... walk away.

"No. I'm not." Imra all but blurts out as her face just suddenly snaps back to normal.

Not that she needs to read his thoughts to have some idea what Garth /may/ be thinking.

"But I..." She starts to say, but stammer. "Never mind."

Four hours and a lot of bad beer later...

There are now four drunk Legionaires. Two are under age. In front of a TV.

Watching the Colbert Report.

One may even shout 'WHAT IS THIS LULZ' as they're a bit lost...

Yeah. Probably best not to ask too much right now.