trans_9 | The Call

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The Call

Jaime Reyes voice sounds over the comm-rings--all of them--and it sounds very urgent.

« Everyone on the ship, listen up! This is Jaime Reyes, your local 'Blowing this pop stand' coordinator and escape facilitation engineer. I need everyone on the ship to come to the City, in front of the Precinct, immediately. Grab people who don't have their comm rings with them--and tell them to grab their comm rings, people who are sleeping, whoever you find, and try to make sure everyone on the ship knows to come. This is very important. This is "getting the heck out of here" important. »

When they arrive, they arrive to find the Command Staff waiting, and a tiny, tiny young man standing on stone ledge from a fountain, waiting for them.

Here goes nothing.

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"Well good for you," Owen said without much conviction, giving her the once over in return. "Princess, I'm guessing?"

He sighed at her question. "Considering I was a baby at the time, and didn't learn about the whole thing until a few months ago? Didn't have much say in the matter. Wouldn't mind dropping in there after all this stuff gets sorted out though."

"Of course I'm a Princess," Jeckie said haughtily. "Princess Wilimena Morgana Daergina Annaxandra Projectra Velorya Vauxhall of Orando." She crossed her arms and raised her chin ever so slightly. Not that it did much. Owen was taller than her. "But the Legion calls me Princess Projectra. I respond just as well to Your Highness or Your Majesty. And you would be...?"

"Princess is is then..." Owen replied. And he thought listing all his names was a mouthful.

"Owen Mercer-Harkness-Thawne. Captain Boomerang, the second." He smiles and bows his head a little, hoping that'll pacify her enough to take some of the apparent edge off.

Oh, it pacifies her a little. "Well," Projectra sniffed, "I suppose the title is better than Boomerang Boy, though what you're a Captain of - beyond boomerangs - I couldn't begin to fathom. You inherited the title from someone special, I presume, Owen."

"My birth-father, George Harkness, the first Captain Boomerang. One of the Flash's arch-enemies, when he wasn't working for the Suicide Squad. Me? I'm more of a free agent, work with superheroes for the most part. Dad trained me, and I got my powers, superspeed, from Mom."

Owen decided if he'd ever joined the Legion, he'd go by Outback Lad.

"I see..." Projectra said. "That's...quite interesting. My own powers are my birthright, passed on to me when-" my parents died "-it was time for me to inherit them." Which could mean anything, really. Her sixteenth birthday, or whenever her parents felt she was mature enough to receive them. "I cast illusions."

"Light manipulation, sensory altering, reality warping, or just magic?" Owen inquires, seeming more focused and intellectual than his easygoing manner would usually indicate.

Hey, you work for Amanda Waller, you learn to ask these things.

"It has it's origins in magic," Projectra replied coolly. "I can go into your mind, into your id, and affect things from there onwards. Make it unbelievably real...and unbelievably pleasurable. Or painful."

Owen blinked. "That... that's intense. You're pretty damn sslick, Princess." He ended up hissing ever so slightly, almost saying 'scary'.

Why were the pretty ones always at least partially mental? I mean, granted, he normally found that attractive, but still.

Projectra caught the hiss and her eyes narrowed at it. She used her powers to tap into Owen's subconscious and pulled out an image of a pretty blonde girl in a red, blue, and gold costume wrapped in the arms of a shadowy male figure - a figure that wasn't as fully formed in Owen's eye as the blonde.

The illusion hovered between Owen and Projectra.

"I am," she agreed. "Very, very slick."

Owen's eyes widened slightly as she plucked out the stray thought and made it visual, but didn't react negatively otherwise.

"Clearly."

Okay, maybe one of his fists tightened a little.

The princess noticed that too and smiled a little triumphantly. "I don't know what everyone sees in her. You could probably do better if you tried."

At that, Owen actually let out a chuckle, running a hand through his hair as he settled down again.

"Wow... you really don't get it then, Princess. It's not about 'doing better' or worse, it's about what you feel is right for you. If she's happy, I'm happy for her, even though inside I'm a shallow little prick who wants to scream and rant that I miss her. The key point there is that I admit when I'm a prick, and then do the right thing anyway."

He shrugs. "You really might want to stop taking life so seriously. Not everything's always dire. So on that note, you got any suggestions in mind?"

He wasn't really ready to just try to get over Kara, but he wasn't going to fit himself for a noose either.

Projectra indicated the room around them, bringing attention to all the people milling around them. "We have been kidnapped from our homes, brought here to fight a battle which most of us do not yet understand. We've been pulled away from friends, from family, from loved ones. Some of us have been pulled away from the moment that our lives were about to finally begin to improve, others from painful situations - situations which have not yet been resolved and haunt those kidnapped. If this is not serious - if this is not dire - then perhaps I misunderstand the meaning of that word." Jeckie crossed her arms and glared at Owen. "For a girl for you? None. I doubt any female would want to debase herself so." The image of Kara and Julian disappeared. "Least of all Supergirl."

"Now wait just a damn minute." Owen's expression turned stern. "If I decide I'm not going to let myself get massively worked up, that concerns me, but don't go assuming I'm speaking for everyone else here. I know there are plenty of folks here that want to get back home, and I'm glad to help them if I can."

He did his best not to respond to the bits about Kara, or other girls.

Projectra raised her chin. "I only meant to explain the situation to you," she countered. "Though the social status of many aboard this ship may be low, I highly doubt that they're intellectually stumped. You, on the other hand, strike me as someone who might be somewhat...well, let's just leave that be. It doesn't matter if you do get worked up or not, as long as you understand the severity of the situation."

"If I didn't understand it, I wouldn't be here volunteering." He replies coolly.

"I know I'm probably in a minority here in not minding this whole thing terribly. I didn't have a lot going for me back home, and in some ways this is a second chance for me, but damned if I'm going to waste my time and misdirect my energy by looking down on others."

~~You see what he did there?~~

"We were forced onto the ship," Jeckie countered him. "Kidnapped. It isn't as though we have much of a choice." She uncrossed her arms and placed them on her hips. "I'm noble by birth, Owen. I'm royalty. A princess. The soon-to-be Majestrix of the survivors of Orando. What would you have me do? Abandon who I am?"

"Way I've always seen it? Being royalty means you're responsible for other people, not that you're better than them." As if mirroring her in opposite, Owen folded his arms.

"Being responsible for them has nothing to do with being better or worse than them. I know my duties, and these people are under whatever protection I may offer them. Just because they are lower than me does not mean that I will feed them to the animals. Remember, there is no queendom without peasants to inhabit it."

Owen grumbled mentally. This wasn't really how he preferred to interact with hot chicks.

"Look, we're clearly not going to find much common ground here, so..." He cleared his throat, and extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Owen. I say stupid things sometimes, particularly when I'm currently a little off balanced by my ex-girlfriend being time-snatched and dating someone else when she should actually be about to be dating me."

Peace offerings can work sometimes, right?

Projectra looked down at his hand incredulously. "I don't think so," she replied. "And I would strike the 'sometimes' from that sentence."

Owen held it for a moment more, giving her the courtesy of a potential remorse period (pfft), before withdrawing his hand and shrugging. "Suit yourself. Best of luck to you."

He walked off, waving casually. "Give my best to Brainy if you see him. Think things are gonna start getting a little crazy soon."

"I am not in the habit of relaying messages," Projectra replied. "Especially to him." She watched him go and furrowed her brow. "I will wish you good luck, though."

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