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thejusticelounge2013-06-28 07:40 am
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2013-06-28 07:40 am
Entry tags:
flame off/flame on
The new house had three bathrooms, two full and one half. It didn’t matter. It was an unwritten rule in the Kent home that, come 7:30 in the morning, both Zee and Billy were going to be crowded alongside Clark in whatever bathroom he occupied, and no one was going to be in a good mood by the time all was said and done.
"I am going to be late," Clark said through clenched teeth, and when Zee’s eyes flashed at him in the mirror, he added, “sweetheart."
"The lighting is better in this bathroom," she shrugged, one crystalline eye peeking through a slit as she stretched the lid to line it with a kohl pencil. “Go shave in the hall bathroom."
"The mirror’s not set up for me in there. Besides, the lighting is better in here," Clark said, checking his watch again. “And i was here first."
"I was here first!" Billy objected at once, head poking around the shower curtain, hair still matted with shampoo.
"This is our bathroom, Billy." Clark paced the linoleum (another home update to make) and gestured to Billy to go back behind the curtain and get on with it. “The hall bathroom is for you to use."
"I don’t like it!" Billy wailed over the spray of the showerhead. “It’s yellow!"
"Clark!" Zee reproached him, rounding from the mirror with arms folded. “You know he doesn’t like the yellow walls!"
"Fine, fine, yes, I know." Clark waved his hand. 7:36 now. He had to be at the office by eight. “We’ll paint it."
Zee twisted her lips, one eye still unlined. “When?"
Billy clambered out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel that engulfed him completely. “Can we paint it red?"
"Soon. And no. Maybe. I don’t know. Both of you, out!" He hefted Zee under one arm and hooked Billy with the other, having learned by now that instantly covering their mouths was key in manhandling either unless he wanted to find himself suddenly depowered or holding a squirming son who rivaled him in size. He deposited them outside the bathroom door, shut and locked it against their nattering, and thanked Rao when he heard them shuffle off and make no further effort to interrupt him for what should have been a simple task.
The mirror now free, he took his customary place before it. It was lined with an alloy resistant to the focused beams of his heat-vision, a development of Wayne Enterprises not long after he expressed to Bruce his difficulties in finding a razor to withstand him. This way was much more efficient and precise, angling the searing beams from his eyes against the reflective plating to burn away the hair peppering his chin and jaw.
After ten seconds of gazing into the glass and expending his usual amount of concentration, Clark realized nothing was happening. He drew back from the mirror, looking at the reflection of his eyes in confusion. They remained slate blue, no burnished tinge of fire present in their irises. And he remained quite scruffy.
7:42. He officially had no time for this. His inability to access his heat vision was a result of Zee and Billy frustrating him, he decided, and he informed them of as much as he brushed past them on his way out the door. They grumbled back at him, the three of them levying various accusations against each other as they all set out to begin their days. But they concluded their spat by kissing each other goodbye, just the same.
"Help!" came the cry from below. Zauriel had been flying through the neighborhood, well flying through the sky above the neighborhood anyway, when he heard the shout. And that it sounded distinctly child-like put some extra speed in his wings.
The cries seemed to be coming from a nearby tree-lined street. The angel saw the gathered crowd below looking up a particular tree’s branches. And he was able to pin point the source of the voice that grabbed his attention. Zauriel landed in front of the little boy, who couldn’t be more than six years old, with the tears in his eyes. "What’s wrong, child?"
"Buster!" the boy sobbed and pointed up to the tree. Looking up, the angel was the little, black and white kitten perched precariously on a high branch.
The boy was scared, the kitten was scared - and it was right in line with Zauriel’s ‘do small things’ philosophy that he had recently shared with Kyle.
"I can help" he told the boy, trying his best to look reassuring and heroic at the same time (after all, there were a few suburban single moms in the gathered crowd). "Wait here." As the crown of gathered neighborhood kids and adults watched, the Justice League’s own Guardian Angel stretched out out his wings and flew up to where Buster was hanging on to a branch for dear life. "Hello there little one" he said to the cat, but loud enough for those below to hear as well. "It looks like you’re in a bit of a pickle. But I can help you." Zauriel held out his right hand. "Come with me. I’ll keep you safe."
The kitten looked at the angel, down to the ground, then back at the angel before letting out a pitiful *meow*. "It’s ok Buster. I’ve got you. I’ve got - eh?" Before the cat could reach his hand, Zauriel’s flame sword burst into life. "What the -?"
The angel grabbed the hilt and pulled out the sword. The kitten screeched. The crowd below gasped. "Oh, no! No no no!" Zauriel said, turning to face the horrified people below. "I’m not trying to - oh dear!" The branch that Buster was clinging to caught the flames from the angel’s sword.
"Mrrrrrrrrowwwwww!" the kitten screamed, leaping to a nearby branch, then another, then latching on to the tree trunk and quickly climbing down on its own. It raced across the sidewalk and leapt into the young boy’s arms just as Zauriel’s sword’s flames extinguished on their own.
The angel quickly landed in front of the terrified onlookers. "I’msorry!I’msorry!I’m sososo sorry!" he said. "I didn’t mean to scare the cat! I was never going to hurt Buster! I have no idea what happened! See, the flames of my sword are controlled by my thoughts, and -"
"So you only thought about burning that kitten alive?" a woman from the crowd shouted. "Is that supposed to make us feel better?"
"For shame!" someone else chimed in.
The boy, his cat, and the entire crowd all turned their backs on the angel and began to walk away. "No, wait" Zauriel pleaded. "I really just… I mean, I never planned to… See, what had happened was…"
*Cra-thud*
The branch that had once held the scared Buster fell to the ground behind the angel, still flaming. "Perfect…" he said to himself before activating his comm link. "Watchtower? Can you notify the fire department and ask them to send a crew to these coordinates? I’ll wait here and explain everything."
"I am going to be late," Clark said through clenched teeth, and when Zee’s eyes flashed at him in the mirror, he added, “sweetheart."
"The lighting is better in this bathroom," she shrugged, one crystalline eye peeking through a slit as she stretched the lid to line it with a kohl pencil. “Go shave in the hall bathroom."
"The mirror’s not set up for me in there. Besides, the lighting is better in here," Clark said, checking his watch again. “And i was here first."
"I was here first!" Billy objected at once, head poking around the shower curtain, hair still matted with shampoo.
"This is our bathroom, Billy." Clark paced the linoleum (another home update to make) and gestured to Billy to go back behind the curtain and get on with it. “The hall bathroom is for you to use."
"I don’t like it!" Billy wailed over the spray of the showerhead. “It’s yellow!"
"Clark!" Zee reproached him, rounding from the mirror with arms folded. “You know he doesn’t like the yellow walls!"
"Fine, fine, yes, I know." Clark waved his hand. 7:36 now. He had to be at the office by eight. “We’ll paint it."
Zee twisted her lips, one eye still unlined. “When?"
Billy clambered out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel that engulfed him completely. “Can we paint it red?"
"Soon. And no. Maybe. I don’t know. Both of you, out!" He hefted Zee under one arm and hooked Billy with the other, having learned by now that instantly covering their mouths was key in manhandling either unless he wanted to find himself suddenly depowered or holding a squirming son who rivaled him in size. He deposited them outside the bathroom door, shut and locked it against their nattering, and thanked Rao when he heard them shuffle off and make no further effort to interrupt him for what should have been a simple task.
The mirror now free, he took his customary place before it. It was lined with an alloy resistant to the focused beams of his heat-vision, a development of Wayne Enterprises not long after he expressed to Bruce his difficulties in finding a razor to withstand him. This way was much more efficient and precise, angling the searing beams from his eyes against the reflective plating to burn away the hair peppering his chin and jaw.
After ten seconds of gazing into the glass and expending his usual amount of concentration, Clark realized nothing was happening. He drew back from the mirror, looking at the reflection of his eyes in confusion. They remained slate blue, no burnished tinge of fire present in their irises. And he remained quite scruffy.
7:42. He officially had no time for this. His inability to access his heat vision was a result of Zee and Billy frustrating him, he decided, and he informed them of as much as he brushed past them on his way out the door. They grumbled back at him, the three of them levying various accusations against each other as they all set out to begin their days. But they concluded their spat by kissing each other goodbye, just the same.
"Help!" came the cry from below. Zauriel had been flying through the neighborhood, well flying through the sky above the neighborhood anyway, when he heard the shout. And that it sounded distinctly child-like put some extra speed in his wings.
The cries seemed to be coming from a nearby tree-lined street. The angel saw the gathered crowd below looking up a particular tree’s branches. And he was able to pin point the source of the voice that grabbed his attention. Zauriel landed in front of the little boy, who couldn’t be more than six years old, with the tears in his eyes. "What’s wrong, child?"
"Buster!" the boy sobbed and pointed up to the tree. Looking up, the angel was the little, black and white kitten perched precariously on a high branch.
The boy was scared, the kitten was scared - and it was right in line with Zauriel’s ‘do small things’ philosophy that he had recently shared with Kyle.
"I can help" he told the boy, trying his best to look reassuring and heroic at the same time (after all, there were a few suburban single moms in the gathered crowd). "Wait here." As the crown of gathered neighborhood kids and adults watched, the Justice League’s own Guardian Angel stretched out out his wings and flew up to where Buster was hanging on to a branch for dear life. "Hello there little one" he said to the cat, but loud enough for those below to hear as well. "It looks like you’re in a bit of a pickle. But I can help you." Zauriel held out his right hand. "Come with me. I’ll keep you safe."
The kitten looked at the angel, down to the ground, then back at the angel before letting out a pitiful *meow*. "It’s ok Buster. I’ve got you. I’ve got - eh?" Before the cat could reach his hand, Zauriel’s flame sword burst into life. "What the -?"
The angel grabbed the hilt and pulled out the sword. The kitten screeched. The crowd below gasped. "Oh, no! No no no!" Zauriel said, turning to face the horrified people below. "I’m not trying to - oh dear!" The branch that Buster was clinging to caught the flames from the angel’s sword.
"Mrrrrrrrrowwwwww!" the kitten screamed, leaping to a nearby branch, then another, then latching on to the tree trunk and quickly climbing down on its own. It raced across the sidewalk and leapt into the young boy’s arms just as Zauriel’s sword’s flames extinguished on their own.
The angel quickly landed in front of the terrified onlookers. "I’msorry!I’msorry!I’m sososo sorry!" he said. "I didn’t mean to scare the cat! I was never going to hurt Buster! I have no idea what happened! See, the flames of my sword are controlled by my thoughts, and -"
"So you only thought about burning that kitten alive?" a woman from the crowd shouted. "Is that supposed to make us feel better?"
"For shame!" someone else chimed in.
The boy, his cat, and the entire crowd all turned their backs on the angel and began to walk away. "No, wait" Zauriel pleaded. "I really just… I mean, I never planned to… See, what had happened was…"
*Cra-thud*
The branch that had once held the scared Buster fell to the ground behind the angel, still flaming. "Perfect…" he said to himself before activating his comm link. "Watchtower? Can you notify the fire department and ask them to send a crew to these coordinates? I’ll wait here and explain everything."