It's A Bird, It's A Plane... ((res))

[Deleted]

((Oh, it got deliciously messy in the animated version, which my Hawkgirl is based off of. See, she thinks that her job is to find out the defenses so that the Thanagarians will know how to defend the planet from the Gordanians if they need to. What she doesn't know is that the real purpose of her mission is to find out the defenses of the planet so that the Thanagarians can destroy Earth so that they can more easily attack the Gordanian homeworld. XD She redeemed herself by backstabbing the Thanagarians when she found out though. Might make for a good future plotline once the Justice League has been established for awhile and everyone trusts her with their lives. n.n))

Listening to his story, Hawkgirl can't help but be sympathetic. She misses Thanagar terribly already, but she knows that once the war inevitably heads in this direction she'll be picked up and then be able to go home. And though she has no idea when that will be - it could take years - at least she knows that Hro Talak is still out there somewhere and she'll see him again.

But she forces those thoughts away and instead comments, "Now you're sounding like me. I kept my head down for awhile - this is a very different place than I'm used to and I wanted to get my feet under me. But once I did, I thought I might as well go back into law enforcement; it's what I know. Of course, the criminals on this planet are a lot easier to catch. I started around where I've been living, but this actually caught me on a trip across the country - I wanted to see it." She actually feels just a little guilty claiming to have a better motive for her good deeds than she actually does - really she's just trying to establish trust with the humans. But then again, the goal here is to get the information needed to protect the planet, and it's not like she doesn't enjoy helping the humans. They do grow on you.

She glances back when he does, still able to see it, and smirks at his comment, "That could have been a lot messier. I'm not sure what I'd have if you hadn't turned up - I just don't have the brute strength." At least he has a good audience to be telling all of this to - Hawkgirl has seen enough of the universe that she isn't phased by him so much as she's phased by the fact that he's here. "Speaking of which, I think I need to land soon," she says as the dull ache in her wings starts to ease into something a bit less 'dull'. Distracted by the conversation, she hasn't been paying much attention to how far they've gone and only now glances ahead to see how close those buildings are.

[Clark Kent]

((That would be awesome. Maybe even a visit to Thanagar-turned-betrayal, if her people wanted to lure some of the planet's more powerful heroes away, having extracted information on their weaknesses from their unwitting winged accomplice. n.n She could backstab em on her home soil and personally save all the League's asses! *plotting glee hyperventilation kicks in* I'll shut up now. ))

"Well, if there's one thing I don't seem to be short on, it's brute strength," Clark replied a bit wryly, shaking his head. "It's probably thankful the criminals here aren't all capable of what we are... I doubt there would be a city for much longer if everyone could set things on fire with their eyes, hoist buses or fly. The common thefts alone would level half a city block... to say nothing for road rage. I considered law enforcement at first- the traditional form, I mean, the police or even armed forces. Somehow, though, it seemed that the more superiors and middlemen I placed between myself and my actions, the more opportunities for corruption or ignorance arose. My judgement may not be perfect, but at least I'll always trust the motivations behind it."

When she mentioned needing to land soon, Clark blinked with mild surprise, having almost forgotten that they had a destination in mind at all. As he considered the nearing cluster of skyscrapers, the tips of which extended slightly above their current elevation, an idea popped into his head, a random little flight of fancy that demanded immediate appeasement. While obviously not the intimate expert of the normal mechanics of flight that Shayera was, Clark had studied a little of how birds took flight; it only made sense, after all, since the avian creatures were the closest approximation to finding what he could do. Of course, upon confirming that his flight was nothing like theirs, his interest had waned, but Clark still knew a few aspects of winged flight to make one idea come to mind.

"All right," he replied, a small smile crossing his face; he was admittedly starting to enjoy the 'Out In Public' concept, and it swung around to the opposite end of the spectrum; a small, harmless desire to show off just a little, now that he finally, finally, was able to. "Well, we're almost there, but I think I can do something that might be able to help save some of your energy for the last leg of it... to say nothing of your pride. Just keep steady, and trust me for a moment."

Now grinning a bit like a schoolchild, Clark cut his speed down, falling a couple dozen feet behind and slightly below his winged companion. Drawing in a small, careful breath- he was trying to help her glide to the building, after all, not crash into the one three blocks down- he angled a steady, powerful blast of air upwards at her. The solid, buffeting wind was enough to ruffle feathers, tousel hair... and maybe add a little boost of speed and height to her travels. If her pride demanded continuing self-sufficiency, she certainly could ignore it and flap her stubborn way to their landing point- he knew perfectly well that if he had altered, she would have most certainly declined- but in many ways the breath was as much a curious test of her stubborness as a playful demonstration of just how much hot air he had.

[Deleted]

"Fire with your eyes?" Hawkgirl repeats in surprise as she eyes the nearest skyscrapers with relief. Of course, fire with the eyes is one that she can probably beat... "I'm just glad that humans don't have Nth metal," she comments idly as one hand slips to the handle of her mace, and abruptly the business end of it crackles with visible electricity that dies when she takes her hand away again. And the fact that it's electrified is only one of the weapon's unique traits. But then she can be heard adding in a mutter, "But they could stand to be a little stronger - I haven't had a decent fight since I got here."

Of course, her mind is quickly sidetracked from that thought when he starts backing off and talking about helping her. She eyes him in mild suspicion - she expects that he's as trustworthy as he looks, but you never know. Of course, she doesn't expect to get a sudden, helpful tailwind. "Hey!" she says half in anger and half in amusement. But the anger is based more on the principle of the thing - now that they're away from prying eyes aside from a few office workers who happened to look out the window at the right moment, there's only so much of her pride to be lost here.

Not for nothing is she a bird, and since she's not so stubborn as to avoid the wind he creates, she uses it instead and is quickly boosted to the roof of one of the buildings, which she lands on easily. "Show off," she accuses him as she gratefully lowers her wings. Wanting nothing more than to rest for a bit, she steps over to the edge of the rooftop and sits there, letting her feet dangle off the edge - having wings and being afraid of heights don't go together. And she leans her wings on the rooftop behind her so that they can finally rest. Even if they've been spotted landing here, she imagines that it would take anyone awhile to get up here or divert one of the helicopters away from the plane.

"Where are we, by the way?" she suddenly asks, "After spotting that plane, I stopped paying attention to where I was."

[Clark Kent]

As she cleared the roof, her caped companion stopped the steady wind, back arching to send him swooping straight up over the roof in a sudden explosion of movement. He hovered about a dozen feet above the roof for a second or two, seemingly reluctant to land so soon, and despite his best efforts, he did flush a little at her playful accusation.

"Maybe just a little," Clark replied wryly, touching down behind her and taking a moment to squint at the sun; it had nearly set now, and he was admittedly starting to miss the warm glow that had settled over him. "Still, I've spent a long, long time making sure I didn't do anything too fast, or too hard... I still have to watch myself, even now. Too easy to break a dish, or break a door... I once accidentially threw a football halfway across town. Fortunately I was alone at the time... and managed to catch it before it landed." A grin crossed his face at that, his broad shoulders shrugging a little. "I suppose it's just nice to let loose, not worry about who might see me."

Crossing his arms, he crossed to the other end of the roof for a moment, peering down over the ledge and studying the streets below. He allowed the sounds of the city to wash over him for a moment, the mix particularly chaotic with the no-doubt-swelling crowds back at the freeway, eyes flitting back and forth across the cityscape. He was quite a distance from home now, as he had moved in virtually the opposite direction ever since leaving to intercept the plane; looking at the landscape stretched out before him, more warmed up than worn down, he had to confess that he was itching to get back out there. Though he still wasn't quite comfortable with dealing with the press, or even questions from the public, he was admittedly searching for any signs of strife; a siren, a cry for help, anything. The next things he heard, though, was Shayera's question, and after another moment he abandoned the search.

"I'm not sure, actually," Clark replied, moving back to her side of the roof and resting one foot up on the ledge, "I don't think I've been out in this area before." Leaning forward ever so slightly, he squinted for several long moments, head slowly swivelling as he was clearly trying to spot something familiar enough to get a proper bearing. Of course, even with his vision there were only so many details one could pick out at a certain distance, and when it came to geographical location, his hearing wasn't quite as useful. Finally, though, he was able to spot a familiar, globe-shaped building top, shielded from normal sight by distance and a dozen or so larger structures. Even so, he couldn't see enough detail to tell which side of the building he was looking at, and it wasn't until he studied the surrounding structures that he finally got his bearings.

"I think we're on the eastern outskirts of Metropolis, maybe twenty miles from where we first caught up to the plane. I didn't know it had drifted so far. If I recall my tour's guide correctly, I think some of the larger corporations keep subsidiary offices here."

Indeed, a little further away from the rooftop they stood upon, one such corporation clearly had a set of offices in question. Clark didn't pay it any heed, beyond a cursory glance, and indeed, few who looked at the structure would have been overly concerned by the name carved near the top, in letters fifteen feet high; 'LexCorp.'

"So," he continued, plopping down next to her on the ledge; without so much as a lone pedestrian watching, he seemed much more comfortable relaxing, though he was still meticulous enough to make sure he didn't sit on his cape. "Find crimes, smash crimes, find more crimes. Seems like a good plan. But somehow I'm having trouble picturing you making a living in a supermarket. Well." He eyed her wings with a raised brow. "Maybe in a very big supermarket."

[Deleted]

Listening to him explain the difficulties that come with being him, Hawkgirl smirks and comments, "Maybe it's a good thing that I'm not as strong as you." While she's definitely among the ranks of the super-strong, Hawkgirl isn't so strong that she has to worry about what she's doing unless she's dealing with a person or something that isn't solidly made. Of course, not being able to hide her wings comes with the advantage of not having to worry about being spotted doing something she shouldn't - it's impossible for her to not stand out, and once people get past the wings it's a simple matter for them to accept that she's also strong, fast, durable, and has good senses.

When he explains their location, Hawkgirl checks the sky and sighs to herself. "Two hour flight home at my regular speed and... regular speed isn't going to happen," she says, speaking that thought out loud. She really does hate flying in the dark. Oh well, no fixing that now. She starts to mentally debate within herself whether she should wait until her wings feel a little better and then see how far she can get before nightfall, attempt the full trip back in the dark, or see if she can't find a place to hole up in until morning. None of those seem like good options. Why did she decide to help that plane anyway? Oh yeah - saving lives.

But she's saved from that internal debate, for the moment at least, by his question. "Actually, I try to keep up with expenses by working over the internet under an alias - people can't see who's working for them that way, and the computer systems humans use are actually rather basic by Thanagarian standards. The only problem I have with that plan is that I need to actually spend some time on it in order to earn anything, and too often I'd rather be patrolling or going on little jaunts like this," she explains.

[Clark Kent]

"You do have a giant mace," Clark agreed cheerfully, smiling as his palms rested flat on the ledge, leaning forward a little bit and seeming to relax even further as he continued with a playfully solemn nod, "It lets you break things, but only the things you want to get broken; at least you have the option of putting it away at the end of the day and washing some dishes without burying your hands in broken glass and ceramics. Or, for that matter, causing disaster because you accidentially pushed a 'Pull' door." A brief grin crossed his face at that particular memory; an embaressed Clark Kent, a high school door ripped from its hinges and, fortunately, no witnesses around at the time. Sixteen at the time, Clark had been so mortified at the accident he had volunteered for every youth program at the school for the rest of that year, which had admittedly only heightened his decided unpopular place in the school hierarchy. Looking back on it now, though, he knew it had been a lesson reminding him that, no matter in what hurry he was in, or how distracted he was, he could never for a second forget his own strength.

"I'd offer to let you rest in my home," he replied a bit wryly as she bemoaned the distance back to her home, smiling as he leaned forward a little, eyes almost subconsciously sweeping towards the north, "But it's slightly further than two hours away. Considering what you just did, I can't imagine you would have trouble finding someone in this city unwilling to offer you a place to stay, but I suppose a small apartment wouldn't suit you well." The one thing he didn't offer, however, was a reiteration of helping her reach her destination, or even taking her there under his own power. Though he had enjoyed teasing her a little with that burst of tailwind, he was wise enough to realize pressing the issue might not be appreciated. Though he might have disagreed a little with someone being stubborn to the point of pointlessness, he didn't consider it any of his business to try and convert her to a more reasonable point of view. And, even if he was comfortable enough to let her crash in Clark Kent's abode, he doubted she could have even fitted in the narrow living room. So, he simply made a silent vow to keep a- distant- eye on her for the first five miles when they parted ways, turning the conversation to other matters instead, such as her choice of employment. If she found herself physically unable to safely return home, he would only then extend the offer again; mostly because he was certain the only thing that would countermand that pride would be practicality.

He hoped so, anyway.

"I agree that it can be frustrating when work eats up time, but it can be particularly difficult when the job isn't one you can interrupt in the middle to deal with a crisis." Clark sighed a little, broad shoulders shifting in a near shrug as he added, "Not easily, that is. I took a few courses in a university, once, and I had a great deal of trouble doing well for no other reason than I had to miss half of the classes due to some building dilemna five miles away." That was actually slightly untrue; he hadn't devoted himself to acts of heroism during school, the only real option if he had wanted to ever pass much of anything. Sometimes it had taken all his concentration just to focus on the lectures, as sirens, screams and the crackle of flames had intruded on his consciousness; it had taken him years to properly control his hearing. But it was nonetheless a similar analogy to the difficulty he was facing working as a staff reporter for the Planet; no doubt he was going to have an interesting life, juggling a full time job and his 'other' responsibilities. "Fortunately I don't need to sit in front of a police scanner all hours of the day, however; I happen to have excellent hearing." He tapped one of his ears as he said this, more than comfortable sharing that particular tidbit about his abilities; the information might actually ensure he wasn't connected to the Daily Planet, after all, by explaining his apparent ease in finding trouble.

[Deleted]

Smiling appreciatively at her mace as she holds it up in front of her, Hawkgirl idly comments, "I've yet to find anything on this planet that can take a solid blow from this thing. But yes, I can put it down." In fact, the only use she's gotten from it thus far is as the occasional, very gently thrown projectile weapon. A good warrior always respects her weapon, and an Nth metal mace certainly deserves careful handling.

She smirks at his comment on doors and she notes, "I have my own problems with doors - they could be wider. Not that I can't fold my wings and fit through pretty much anything a human can, but not easily. And not comfortably. And don't get me started on how difficult it is for me to find clothing that is strong enough, flexible enough, doesn't interfere with my wings, and looks decent when I can't go to the store for myself without causing a riot. And then there's chairs and couches... This world was simply not made for me." But then she seems to shrug that off: at least she was able to pull together a comfortable place for herself in St. Roch that actually suits her needs.

But though the thought of getting home tonight is tempting, she's not about to ask anyone for help with that. Besides, she has many more options than he even realizes; when one is in a world that isn't made for them, they learn to simply make do. And Hawkgirl is a warrior - she takes her ability to tough things out as a matter of pride. "Let me worry about that," she says easily, "This isn't the first or the last time I'll have that problem." Not that she's accustomed to wearing herself out this much, but not being able to beat the sun home? It definitely happens. And based on the ache in her wings, she's probably going to find somewhere to rest until morning - which isn't as hard as it sounds.

In fact she's so unconcerned by that problem that her attention is easily grabbed when he talks about dealing with crises. "My hearing's good, but not that good. My eyes are better - they don't call me 'Hawkgirl' just because of my helmet and wings. Known criminals in my regular stomping grounds know better than to go outside during the day," she says with a touch of pride. It's not simply a matter of being able to see that far, but also being able to spot what you're looking for among all the things you can see. "Of course, Metropolis has 30 times the number of people..." she adds, glancing around herself at how the city seems to spread in all directions as far as she can see.