2014.03.10 - Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

The infirmary at the Watchtower is very quiet at this moment. Those who had been grievously injured and were treated here have been sent on their way to recovery, or are attending other affairs. The sole occupant was not in need of any emergency procedures-- simple exhaustion. Vorpal's powers, although born of chaos magic, were fueled and directed by acts of willpower. What he had done back in Apokolips had been more than he had ever done before, stretching himself to the very limit. It was no surprise that he had collapsed soon after arriving from their Apokoliptian excursion.

He stirs a little, slowly coming closer to consciousness. Very soon he's going to have the kind of headache that Zeus might have experienced when giving birth to Athena.

"Nnngh..." he mutters, closing his eyes after opening them briefly and getting the first needle of pain from the light. "... hell am I?"

Superman's first choice of place to convalesce would be the Fortress of Solitude. But after returning from a brief, as yet unexplained visit to the Moon with the unconscious Darkseid ... well, the Watchtower is close by and just as suited for his needs. Plus it wasn't recently invaded by New Gods and severely damaged.

Superman doesn't wear his uniform given that most of it was destroyed in his fight on the surface of the Sun. Instead he wears a non-descript white t-shirt and shorts, reclining on one of the guerneys under a solar lamp flicking through a StarkPad full of the news he missed when he couldn't read it at super speed.

He turns his head slightly when Vorpal stirs, revealing a face that is severely beaten and burned - the spoils of fighting Darkseid up close and personal with a star. He narrows his eyes, giving Vorpal a once-over with x-ray vision to check his injuries.

"The Watchtower. Try not to move too much."

Vorpal is perfectly intact-physically, that is. Sure, he got lashed by Granny Goodness, but any worse injuries were interrupted by a Female fury landing on her head. Sure, his fur is badly singed here and there, but it could have been worse. He could have been in Grayven's radius when the Cheshire cat managed to trick the New God into blowing himself up with his own Omega Beams. He likely would have been reduced to ashes if he had been in the blast radius.

"...S-superman?" he groans, a hand going up to his forehead. "... oh god, I feel like someone's riverdancing on my forehead... wh-where's everybody? We just got out of the wormho---"

A pause. "... we just didn't come out of the wormholes, did we?"

"It was a few hours ago," Superman answers quietly, putting the reader aside so he can focus his attention on Vorpal, "It's over now. Darkseid is gone."

As much as he is putting on a brave front, the Man of Steel has been through the wringer. Especially since he lost both a close friend and a new family member in the space of an hour. His brow furrows as he stares at the end of the bed.

"... We did it? We actually did it?" The sound of disbelief in the other's voice is clear "... what happened? Is everybody o---are 'you' ok?" He sits up a little and winces. That headache is going to be there for a while- the price of extreme concentration maintained for a considerable period of time. He doesn't complain, though. He is aware that he was the weakest person on board and that if anyone was a certain shoe-in for a casket, it probably had been him. It could have gone much, much worse.

"I'm fine," Superman answers, even though his hands look as though they were burnt almost down to the bone and he looks as though he was hit by a bus, "But, no. Everyone isn't okay."

He takes a deep breath, turning slightly on the bed so he can speak with a greater degree of solemnity.

"Darkseid killed Tony Stark. He died buying me time to reintegrate my powers. We also lost Booster Gold and ... and Superlass in Metropolis. There was another man called Doctor Umoja. I hadn't met him before but he was killed as well."

"What--"

His brow wrinkles as the words take a moment to register.

"No. Are you sure? I mean... are you sure? Tony can't be dead. He has a plan for everything---"

"... Booster?" he stops, taking a breath, which feels rather shallow at the moment. "... what. What happened?" He asks with a thread of voice.

"I saw it happen. I'm sure."

Superman looks off at the end of the bed again, picking the reader up from his side and turning it over in his injured hands lightly.

"Darkseid murdered them."

Vorpal breathes slowly, or does his best to that effect. He brings a hand up to his face, closing his eyes. There's a burning sensation in his lungs that he fights down.

At the end of the day, all he had under his belt were eight months of experience. Maybe he has gotten further than he ever thought possible, but he's still not prepared for a lot of things. Most things. He had been convinced that he was going to die, and he embraced the possibility fully by diving headlong into the invasion and not pulling any punches.

The thought that he would be back and one of his best friends, or one of the men he admired, wouldn't had not really felt that probable at the time.

That was then, and this was now. His body is tense, as he does his best to control the grief. Around his bed, stange visual phenomena manifests as shadowy figures appear and disappear in a blur, half-formed images that quickly dissipate.

"Be sad," Superman begins, turning the reader in his hands, "But don't despair. They did what they did for the benefit of everyone. Without them Darkseid would have won. He would never have left Earth alone and he would've come back eventually to find it weaker. Because they died we'll persevere."

"That... bastard..."

It's unintentional, of course, but it's the illusion-enhanced voice that Keith usually employs when he's toying with criminals. It sounds thoroughly unnatural and eerie, which contrasts with the very real sentiment in the voice. He looks at Superman as if he were an alien crea-

Check that. He looks at Superman as if he were something he could not comprehend. He brushes away as his tears, embarrassed that they are not obeying him, furious that there is a reason to cry in the first place.

There should have been a celebration. There should have been a big party and, somewhere, because there always is one, a karaoke machine. And he would have reprised his performance at Wally's party and would have made Tony call him out for improper behavior from a student again, and made Booster ask about what this 'Rocky Horror' thing was.

And then there was Superlass, who saved his life from Grayven's onslaught of Omega Beams. She made it possible for him to take down Grayven-- and where had he been when she died? When they died?

Asleep in a comfy little bed somewhere in orbit. Weak and useless.

"A monster... where is he? Who has him? Is he dead?"

"Darkseid is defeated," Superman answers plainly, "There's proof enough out there that you'll find soon enough. As for the people who died? There's nothing left. That was one of his powers. Erasing people from existence."

His features harden at that. Stark was a dear friend and Superlass was one he had only just gotten to know but had already adopted as a surrogate sister. He looks down at his hands, burned as they are.

"But Darkseid is gone."

"... erased."

Okay, that's even worse. Turning inward, grief mixes with anger, the young man's face twisting with rage.

"Defeated. But not dead. Is that what you mean? Or is he dead? Is he dead and gone, to trouble Earth no more?"

"I'd like to tell you about the last thing Tony did."

Superman takes a deep breath as he recounts the story, obviously it is still a sore point for him.

"Before we left, he promised me that he was going to kill Darkseid. I told him that I thought he was a better man than that and that being a killer would only bring him down to Darkseid's level. Somehow, and I don't know how, he got his hands on a sort of chemical that is fatal to New Gods. He made a weapon out of it and used it on Darkseid. It would've kill him but Tony chose not to let Darkseid die. He realized at the end that he was that better man after all."

His features harden, his brow furrowing, "I couldn't kill Darkseid. No matter what's he's done, killing him would mean that Tony Stark died for nothing. I won't let that be the case."

Yellow-green eyes focus on Superman. The message is received but he says nothing. Keith knows what he would have done- swung that weapon fast and hard, so that Darkseid could never come back to visit genocide upon the innocent. Men, women, even metas and mutants, even very powerful ones were one thing. Gods?

He had seen Eris, the goddess of Discord, open slaughter upon the innocent pedestrians in a mall. He had seen Loki treat people like pawns, whether they died or not was not his concern--- and then there was Darkseid.

The Cheshire cat feels something cold crawl inside his chest and settle there. Gods did not deserve mercy, a voice inside him cried out. They, least of all, deserved the mercy accorded to the weak and innocent when their games left the death of thousands, millions, more in their wake. When gods strayed, they were to be stopped. He had seen Apokolips, the creatures that dwelled there.

What did Tony die for? What did Superman advocate? Letting the purveyors of insanity upon the Cosmos the opportunity to rampage again.

He looks at the Man of Steel with a haunted expression. Perhaps Superman can live with that. But he couldn't. Not with the knowledge that two good men who were true heroes were gone for good... whereas the great darkness that had taken them was free to grow again and return.

He would have killed Darkseid without a second thought, knowing in his heart that it was Darkseid's choices that brought him to the point that assured his death. Perhaps Superman believed otherwise, but the Cheshire cat was not going to argue, nor would he respect Superman any less. He would, perhaps, only trust him a little less when it came to the ultimate decision. And it saddened him that such a decision would never fall in his hands- they were reserved for the mighty.

"... I ... must go to the Tower. Pepper. I ..." he slowly pushes himself off from the bed and onto a standing position, trying not to cry more than he is.

"I think you need to rest," Superman says in his best friendly but authoritative tone, "I've seen Miss Potts already. She has someone with her. She's not alone. You just need to focus on recovering."

Vorpal pauses, and looks down for a second before looking around "... right. Are there sleeping ... stuffs around here?"

He sits at the edge of the bed, running a finger down his right bracelet. "... I don't think I could sleep. Without one."

"I'd be surprised if there wasn't," Superman replies, not really approving of the medication but understanding where it could be warranted at this point, "I don't often spend much time here."

A nod, and Keith looks around for something. Eventually he finds it- it's nothing strong, but just enough to help.

"... I am glad you're still with us," he says, rather coldly, "Thank you, Superman. For everything."

The coldness isn't surprising. There's obviously a level of emotional shock going on, detachment or dissociation. Probably the best way that he can deal with the situation, being in a strange environment and far away from anyone he knows well enough to lower his defenses.

"... thank you. I mean it."

He sits down on the bed again after taking the capsule, and lays down on his side, facing away and staring into space. After a while the headache, the medication and the emotional exhaustion win and his eyes are closed. Occasionally a half-formed image, a phantasm appears here and there near him as he dreams.

"Thanks."

Once Vorpal has fallen asleep, Superman stands up and gathers the tattered remains of his cape from his bedside. He spares one look at the new hero before he leaves, still limping from the injuries sustained in the fight. Better he's not here when he wakes up again.