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thejusticelounge2012-05-12 10:45 pm
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2012-05-12 10:45 pm
Entry tags:
raising the bar
Guy ran the numbers again. This was definitely going to work. Within six to eight months everyone would get what they want. Everyone would be happy. By taking personal leave and spending all his time down here for the last three days, Guy was was able to avoid Rayner, his ungrateful, grudge-holding League, and distract himself from his sorrows by working on getting the bar ready to open. The added bonus was that the current work was ahead of schedule, and Guy didn’t have to waste time hanging around for things like monitor duty or repair detail.
Kyle was already sick of the Watchtower, and especially frustrated with this whole Steering Committee…given all the different, stressful factors that came with it. The pressure he didn’t really want, the staying away from LA even MORE and especially the weirdness between himself and Guy. His mind kept drifting back to Warriors, annoyed that he wasn’t there as well, watching the renovation magic take place.
Well, he wasn’t going to wait any longer. The League was still figuring out the whole Batman mess, and Kyle didn’t think he was needed for that line sticky debate. Instead, he headed back to LA. Headed back home.
It was evening now and quiet, since it was a weeknight. Kyle slowly entered and as luck would have it, Guy was in the bar area, setting up some track lighting on the back wall.
“Evening,” Kyle said with forced cheeriness. They’d been like this with each other for the past couple days now, ever since Guy found out that Kyle was on the stupid Steering Committee. “Que pasa?”
Guy didn’t even look up, or rather down, from his work as he floated over the brand-new bar and held the track lights in place as six screwdrivers simultaneously worked on affixing the lighting to the newly-painted ceiling. “Renovatin’” Guy responded. “The more I do at night, the less I gotta pay ‘em tomorrow.”
He floated back down and landed behind the bar, flicking the third switch from the left on a panel of switches. The track lighting flickered to life, five of the six bulbs burning brightly. “Hm. Gonna hafta buy more bulbs tomorrow…” He grabbed a clipboard off the bar-top and scribbled a few notes. “What’re you doin’ here?” he asked casually, eyeing Kyle briefly over the clipboard before returning far too much attention on whatever was written in front of him.
“I do still live here, right?” Kyle blurted and then almost regretted it. Almost. He rubbed his forehead with his thumb, looking down at the clipboard as a focus. “I’m tired and I missed the smog and I wanted to see how the reno was going…” Kyle looked around. He was genuinely impressed with the work done so far. Soon he could get Mia and Jason in here decorating and painting and all the fun stuff. “It’s looking really good. I wish…” Kyle wanted to say he wanted to help, but he didn’t want to open that can of worms.
“Yeah, throw enough money at somethin’, ya can get anythin’ in a short amount of time,” Guy mused, choosing not to add his embittered observations about having one’s name added to a list of nominees, or more likely, keeping someone’s name off that list. “As fer living here…” he eyed Kyle again, “You tell me. It ain’t like you’ve got yer stuff upstairs yet. There’s barely an upstairs to move into. An’ since yer kinda busy bein’ a bureaucrat, I wasn’t sure if ya might have changed yer plans on doin’ more than just bein’ an “investor” in this place,” Guy shrugged.
And there it was. Kyle had kind of been waiting for this moment; and frankly it felt like kind of a relief for Guy to bring it up. “You know this wasn’t something I planned. I was the one who wanted off that space station, Guy. You think I asked for this? You think I don’t wanna be down here, helping out with this? You think I like sleeping on a mattress on the floor? Well…” Kyle considered, dusting some sawdust off a barstool. “Actually I DO prefer the mattress to sleeping up in the Watchtower, because at least…at least…Dios. I don’t even get why you’re still so sore at me.”
“Who’s sore?” Guy lied. “Sleep where ya want, it don’t bother me…”
Kyle stared at him incredulously. “Seriously? That’s all you have to say about this? It doesn’t bother you that I got on a stupid Justice League Steering Committee?” Kyle knew Guy had a beef with the League, but he didn’t get why his involvement affected Guy any, at least not to this extreme. He expected teasing and lectures, not the cold shoulder and cold hostility.
“It don’t matter what does or doesn’t bother me where the League’s concerned, Rayner. Sayin’ anythin’ is a waste of breath an’ time an’ it never does a damn bit of good, an’ never will. An’ the first thing ya better learn if ya wanna stay in good with the rest of ‘em running the show is that they don’t wanna hear what I think, an’ they probably wouldn’t take too kindly to you askin’ me, either!”
Back to ‘Rayner’ now. “Spare me the Lantern Lecture, Guy,” Kyle said, smacking the bar impatiently. “I know you well enough to know this act of yours. The ‘I don’t give a damn about anything or anyone or anyanyever’. So I took the job. So I’m back with the Justice League officially. Y que? Nothing else has changed, right?”
“If you say so,” Guy went back to being calm and passive-aggressive. He knew it, and he knew it was beneath him, but it felt only one notch more mature than the bitterness he felt about being passed over for consideration for any kind of leadership position with the League. Him, a man who had led armies of thousands of Lanterns against insurmountable odds to save the universe; a man who had been recognized by the Guardians as having a unique ability to think outside of the box, and had been promoted to Number One on the Honor Guard because of it; a man who didn’t suck up or follow blindly, who would have made an ideal critical advisor on any steering committee…
A man who also knew if he discussed these feelings with any of them they would just judge him as bitter, selfish, and arrogant. Guy knew a no-win scenario when he saw one. Wonder Woman always talked of equality. Well she could shove it up her pretty star-spangled ass, because as far as the League was concerned, there was no such thing.
“Guy, por favor…” Kyle looked pleading for a moment, and felt it as well. But lately his cup was feeling constantly drained and it was hard-pressed to get a refill. He clenched his fist and pushed away from the bar, and away from Guy. “No y’know what? I do say so. Nothing’s changed, nada for me. I’m just…I’m gonna keep on going and when you’re ready, then you can catch up to me, si? I’m gonna hit the hay. You…keep doing this great work. I mean it, I really love how it’s looking. And I miss this, I miss all of this. And…” Kyle sighed, looking defeated. “And…buenas noches.”
“G‘night…” Guy watched him head upstairs, then put the clipboard down and ran a hand through his hair. No more work tonight. He opened one of the cases stacked behind the bar with a ring-constructed box cutter, and then flew up to the roof, bottle of scotch in hand.
He was losing Kyle, he could feel it; the League was taking his partner away. Kyle had always looked up to Guy, deferred to his experience, relied on him for making the hard choices that would just get the job done and get them home alive at the end of the mission. Now, the League was turning him into a planner, not a doer; they were influencing him on what to think, when the kid was still getting the hang of how to think. Kyle still placed those heroes on pedestals, which in and of itself drove the elder Lantern crazy…but how long would it be before Kyle was acting just like them: looking down his nose at Guy, judging him, snubbing him?
Guy took a long swig of the scotch and gazed up at the night sky. There was no hope of seeing the stars tonight, not with the combination of smog and light pollution from Los Angeles. Still, if he focussed he could hear the ocean crashing on Venice Beach. He would miss falling asleep to that when he returned to Oa. In three or four months, with sufficient promotion and a well-trained manager and staff, the bar should be turning a profit, and Guy could put his plan into motion.
He would sign the business over to Kyle in full, in exchange for Kyle’s share of the bar on Oa. Then he’d let Kyle know he had never actually been an investor in the business; Kyle was Guy’s landlord. With the twenty thousand-dollar inheritance the kid had practically forced on him, Guy had made a down-payment in Kyle’s name on the purchase of the building and property; the bar would cover the mortgage as well as the payments on Ollie’s line of credit, as long as Guy kept the reno expenses to a bare minimum by doing a lot of the work himself. After six to eight months, Kyle could do whatever he wanted: keep the bar and stay on Earth, or sell the totally refurbished building and/or the business for a huge profit.
By then, Guy would be back on Oa, probably breaking in a new partner, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about Kyle being stuck for money. He hoisted the bottle to his lips once more, then belatedly made a toast.
“Adios, compadre. Gonna miss ya when the time comes, kid…”
Kyle was already sick of the Watchtower, and especially frustrated with this whole Steering Committee…given all the different, stressful factors that came with it. The pressure he didn’t really want, the staying away from LA even MORE and especially the weirdness between himself and Guy. His mind kept drifting back to Warriors, annoyed that he wasn’t there as well, watching the renovation magic take place.
Well, he wasn’t going to wait any longer. The League was still figuring out the whole Batman mess, and Kyle didn’t think he was needed for that line sticky debate. Instead, he headed back to LA. Headed back home.
It was evening now and quiet, since it was a weeknight. Kyle slowly entered and as luck would have it, Guy was in the bar area, setting up some track lighting on the back wall.
“Evening,” Kyle said with forced cheeriness. They’d been like this with each other for the past couple days now, ever since Guy found out that Kyle was on the stupid Steering Committee. “Que pasa?”
Guy didn’t even look up, or rather down, from his work as he floated over the brand-new bar and held the track lights in place as six screwdrivers simultaneously worked on affixing the lighting to the newly-painted ceiling. “Renovatin’” Guy responded. “The more I do at night, the less I gotta pay ‘em tomorrow.”
He floated back down and landed behind the bar, flicking the third switch from the left on a panel of switches. The track lighting flickered to life, five of the six bulbs burning brightly. “Hm. Gonna hafta buy more bulbs tomorrow…” He grabbed a clipboard off the bar-top and scribbled a few notes. “What’re you doin’ here?” he asked casually, eyeing Kyle briefly over the clipboard before returning far too much attention on whatever was written in front of him.
“I do still live here, right?” Kyle blurted and then almost regretted it. Almost. He rubbed his forehead with his thumb, looking down at the clipboard as a focus. “I’m tired and I missed the smog and I wanted to see how the reno was going…” Kyle looked around. He was genuinely impressed with the work done so far. Soon he could get Mia and Jason in here decorating and painting and all the fun stuff. “It’s looking really good. I wish…” Kyle wanted to say he wanted to help, but he didn’t want to open that can of worms.
“Yeah, throw enough money at somethin’, ya can get anythin’ in a short amount of time,” Guy mused, choosing not to add his embittered observations about having one’s name added to a list of nominees, or more likely, keeping someone’s name off that list. “As fer living here…” he eyed Kyle again, “You tell me. It ain’t like you’ve got yer stuff upstairs yet. There’s barely an upstairs to move into. An’ since yer kinda busy bein’ a bureaucrat, I wasn’t sure if ya might have changed yer plans on doin’ more than just bein’ an “investor” in this place,” Guy shrugged.
And there it was. Kyle had kind of been waiting for this moment; and frankly it felt like kind of a relief for Guy to bring it up. “You know this wasn’t something I planned. I was the one who wanted off that space station, Guy. You think I asked for this? You think I don’t wanna be down here, helping out with this? You think I like sleeping on a mattress on the floor? Well…” Kyle considered, dusting some sawdust off a barstool. “Actually I DO prefer the mattress to sleeping up in the Watchtower, because at least…at least…Dios. I don’t even get why you’re still so sore at me.”
“Who’s sore?” Guy lied. “Sleep where ya want, it don’t bother me…”
Kyle stared at him incredulously. “Seriously? That’s all you have to say about this? It doesn’t bother you that I got on a stupid Justice League Steering Committee?” Kyle knew Guy had a beef with the League, but he didn’t get why his involvement affected Guy any, at least not to this extreme. He expected teasing and lectures, not the cold shoulder and cold hostility.
“It don’t matter what does or doesn’t bother me where the League’s concerned, Rayner. Sayin’ anythin’ is a waste of breath an’ time an’ it never does a damn bit of good, an’ never will. An’ the first thing ya better learn if ya wanna stay in good with the rest of ‘em running the show is that they don’t wanna hear what I think, an’ they probably wouldn’t take too kindly to you askin’ me, either!”
Back to ‘Rayner’ now. “Spare me the Lantern Lecture, Guy,” Kyle said, smacking the bar impatiently. “I know you well enough to know this act of yours. The ‘I don’t give a damn about anything or anyone or anyanyever’. So I took the job. So I’m back with the Justice League officially. Y que? Nothing else has changed, right?”
“If you say so,” Guy went back to being calm and passive-aggressive. He knew it, and he knew it was beneath him, but it felt only one notch more mature than the bitterness he felt about being passed over for consideration for any kind of leadership position with the League. Him, a man who had led armies of thousands of Lanterns against insurmountable odds to save the universe; a man who had been recognized by the Guardians as having a unique ability to think outside of the box, and had been promoted to Number One on the Honor Guard because of it; a man who didn’t suck up or follow blindly, who would have made an ideal critical advisor on any steering committee…
A man who also knew if he discussed these feelings with any of them they would just judge him as bitter, selfish, and arrogant. Guy knew a no-win scenario when he saw one. Wonder Woman always talked of equality. Well she could shove it up her pretty star-spangled ass, because as far as the League was concerned, there was no such thing.
“Guy, por favor…” Kyle looked pleading for a moment, and felt it as well. But lately his cup was feeling constantly drained and it was hard-pressed to get a refill. He clenched his fist and pushed away from the bar, and away from Guy. “No y’know what? I do say so. Nothing’s changed, nada for me. I’m just…I’m gonna keep on going and when you’re ready, then you can catch up to me, si? I’m gonna hit the hay. You…keep doing this great work. I mean it, I really love how it’s looking. And I miss this, I miss all of this. And…” Kyle sighed, looking defeated. “And…buenas noches.”
“G‘night…” Guy watched him head upstairs, then put the clipboard down and ran a hand through his hair. No more work tonight. He opened one of the cases stacked behind the bar with a ring-constructed box cutter, and then flew up to the roof, bottle of scotch in hand.
He was losing Kyle, he could feel it; the League was taking his partner away. Kyle had always looked up to Guy, deferred to his experience, relied on him for making the hard choices that would just get the job done and get them home alive at the end of the mission. Now, the League was turning him into a planner, not a doer; they were influencing him on what to think, when the kid was still getting the hang of how to think. Kyle still placed those heroes on pedestals, which in and of itself drove the elder Lantern crazy…but how long would it be before Kyle was acting just like them: looking down his nose at Guy, judging him, snubbing him?
Guy took a long swig of the scotch and gazed up at the night sky. There was no hope of seeing the stars tonight, not with the combination of smog and light pollution from Los Angeles. Still, if he focussed he could hear the ocean crashing on Venice Beach. He would miss falling asleep to that when he returned to Oa. In three or four months, with sufficient promotion and a well-trained manager and staff, the bar should be turning a profit, and Guy could put his plan into motion.
He would sign the business over to Kyle in full, in exchange for Kyle’s share of the bar on Oa. Then he’d let Kyle know he had never actually been an investor in the business; Kyle was Guy’s landlord. With the twenty thousand-dollar inheritance the kid had practically forced on him, Guy had made a down-payment in Kyle’s name on the purchase of the building and property; the bar would cover the mortgage as well as the payments on Ollie’s line of credit, as long as Guy kept the reno expenses to a bare minimum by doing a lot of the work himself. After six to eight months, Kyle could do whatever he wanted: keep the bar and stay on Earth, or sell the totally refurbished building and/or the business for a huge profit.
By then, Guy would be back on Oa, probably breaking in a new partner, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about Kyle being stuck for money. He hoisted the bottle to his lips once more, then belatedly made a toast.
“Adios, compadre. Gonna miss ya when the time comes, kid…”