trans_9 | But Sooner Or Later God'll Cut You Down [Open]

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But Sooner Or Later God'll Cut You Down [Open]

'Running away' is, in Howard's opinion, the most useful thing the human body can do. And unfortunately, he has plenty of reasons to think it will come in handy at some point, or at various points, in the future.

That's why he's set up a 400 yard circular track-slash-obstacle course in Hydroponics, as well as set up markers for hundred meter, two hundred meter, and mile routes. Every other morning, before Med Bay shifts, he's here, improving on speed and stamina. He knows full well that even if he gets into the best shape of his life, he can still be outrun (or outflown) by his super-powered, magical or metahuman peers, but it's better to have that added little bit of competence if and when he ends up sprinting away from danger.

He's feeling the results, too. There's no way to time if he's getting faster, but where he was once just skinny, he's becoming lean, and the mile run that used to exhaust him leaves him considerably less winded than it did a few months ago. And he's getting much more confident going through the tunnels and up the ladders of the obstacle course.

The only thing looking worse for the wear is his shoes. At some point he's going to have to relegate his velociraptor shoes to a beloved keepsake, because the seams are literally coming apart around his toes.

Howard double-knots his shoelaces and stretches a bit before running the obstacle course again.

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"What year are you from?" Howard tilts his head. Could be Terry's from the future.

Howard purses his lips. That sounds like someone who would be especially unsympathetic to learning about Howard's more illicit past. "See, me, I just skipped class because it was boring."

"2052, last time I was there," he said casually, but there was a feeling of grief in his eyes. That his world may never get past that angered and saddened him.

But he pushed it out of his thoughts for now, and the casual look was back. "Now, see, I used to do that, too," he said knowingly. "But if I even tried to after my time in Juvie, my folks would kill me." Well, he mom would. His dad... couldn't. But he wasn't about to get into that much of his past with a stranger.

Howard whistles (and is slightly disappointed that the sultry sounds of *NSYNC didn't survive into the 2050's). "2009, so forty-three years before you. Did we ever get the flying cars?"

Howard perks up a bit. "What's juvie even like? I was too young for it, but I ended up in the sheriff's office like...eight times." It seems like a lifetime ago, making it, by default, a happy memory.

Terry wasn't surprised - there seemed to be a lot of people on this ship from the 20-aughts. All from different worlds, though - was that just a really important decade or what? Too bad he could never remember much of the history from then. "Only people who are rolling in credits," Terry said. "Even hover cars are too expensive for most people." Of course, he had a jet, but it was still owned by one of those people rolling in credits.

He shrugged. "I was only in juvie a few months. Kinda scary when I first got there, but after I had a growth spurt it wasn't all bad. No one ever did much but work out and go to the mandatory classes and therapy."

"Oh, man, and you switched to credits? If I ever get back home I'm going to have to cash in that piggy bank before dollars are worthless." Not that dollars aren't totally worthless back home, but that's why it's secretly funny to Howard.

"Sounds boring. Then again, maybe it just lost all the thrill when you grew out of being the whipping boy." For his part, Howard's fairly small, having reached his adult height at just 5'3. "What'd you go in for?"

Terry chuckled. "After seeing just how many people get mugged while carrying around a lot of credits, I sometimes wish we would go back to paper money. At least then it'd be harder for dumb people to carry around hundreds of creds at once." Really, some nights all the cred thefts and muggings just got to be ridiculous. It was certainly one of the most lackluster parts of being Batman.

"Considering how many crazies we have in Gotham, I'm okay with my juvie time being boring. Less I have to put up with Jokerz or T's or any of the other psycho gangs, the better," he said. And he certainly meant it. Especially now that he knew just how crazy Gotham's crazies could get. "But yeah, getting to the point that people couldn't use 'Tiny' in my nickname was pretty schway."

Terry frowned a little at the question. It wasn't something he even talked about to his closest friends. Hell, he'd never even told his girlfriend about Charlie, the guy who had gotten him involved in crime in the first place.

"Eh," he started, keeping his voice even and trying not to dwell too much on what he was saying, "breaking and entering, vandalism, gang affiliation, that kinda thing."

"You can carry around hundreds of dollars at once too." At least there's some comfort in knowing there are idiots in every generation. If he ever gets dumped in the future - and given his life so far, that isn't completely out of the question - his pickpocketing skills won't be obsolete.

"So you're serious about that superhero thing. You don't hear that every day, slacker to hero. Why the big shift?"

What the hell is 'schway'?

Howard clicks his tongue and wags his finger. "Naughty, naughty. The police must've loved you."

Wow, this kid was incredibly good at finding those uncomfortable subjects that Terry didn't like to talk about. It probably wasn't on purpose, of course - most people wanted to know how he wound up as Batman. It just wasn't exactly a happy story. But who expected one with Batman?

"My dad was murdered. I wanted revenge," he said curtly. It was clear from his tone that he didn't want to say much more then that.

However, his mood did lighten at the police remarked. In fact, he started laughing. "Heh, I think they liked me better as just some dreg. The Commish isn't really thrilled about someone who not only brings up her old Batgirl days, but is doing a better job then most of the force."

"That sucks, man. That really sucks." Howard's got to learn to stop asking questions that end with some variation on the answer 'my parents are dead'. First Tim, now Terry. "At least you had someone to blame. Mine just disappeared one day."

His voice is pretty much dripping bitterness as he says that, but he shrugs like he's moving past that topic of conversation.

"Your police chief is a former superhero? That seems like major conflict of interest, if you don't mind me pointing out the totally freaking obvious."

"I'm sorry," Terry said quietly, "that really sucks." And he meant it, too. He knew how hard it was loosing a parent, but at least he got some closure.

"Not only that, but she was a sidekick for the guy I took over for. And her father was the Commissioner while she was Batgirl. Gotham was built on conflicts of interest."

"You have no idea." He doesn't even say it in a challenging way, just a statement of fact. If you didn't live in the FAYZ, you can't imagine it. Having finally run into someone else from his homeworld just reaffirmed that conclusion; he may detest Diana, but they're a kinship that comes from both being from a world where all the parents vanished.

But then again, he wouldn't know what it's like to want revenge. Or at least, not enough to want to dedicate yourself to it. Revenge can be satisfying but it doesn't and will never undo the original hurt, so why focus on it?

If anything, Terry's answer, while informative, has given Howard the impression that Terry's a little unhinged.

Howard whistles. "So are you Batpeople like the power family of Gotham?"

Unhinged would be a good word to describe Terry. Far better in describing Bruce, but there still had to be something wrong with someone to bring them to the point of dressing like a giant bat to fight crime. Fortunately, Howard had not actually said anything, and so Terry did not feel the need to defend his life choices.

"Huh," Terry said after a pause. "Y'know, I never thought about it like that, since it's not a real family but... yeah. Hell, the old man even owns the biggest company in the city. Not to mention the historic district he bought out." Of course, Bruce had bought out and maintained that district because it was were his parents were murdered, and he wanted to keep the memory alive. Terry wasn't about to get into his employer's psychoses right now, though - especially since he could sympathize with them.

"Damn." Howard makes an 'impressed' face. "If you fell in with that you must've been loaded. What's it like being super rich?"

Terry laughed again. "Yeah right, like I'll ever seen any of that. He's either gonna take it all with him to the grave, or give it to Dick. If anything I'll get forced to run the company since I'm the only person in the city that really cares about all the corruption in it. And even then, most of his money was inherited, not from there."

There was more then a touch of bitterness in his voice. Not that he really wanted any of the money, and he did like the idea of keeping an eye over Wayne Industries. But he'd always been lower class, and the class divide had only grown larger in his time. And he wasn't exactly enthusiastic about being so closely tied with the company that was responsible for his father's death.

"Sounds like a greedy bastard." Howard shakes his head. "Do you even want to run a company? Being a superhero sounds kind of like a full-time thing. I hear you can't function optimally unless you get at least seven hours of sleep a night."

Which is ironic, since Howard gets far, far less than that.

"No, he's just... stingy," Terry said, frowning. Bruce may be a cold, lonely old man, but not greedy. Hell, he one of Gotham's most famous philanthropists. Besides, Terry wasn't even sure if he wanted any of Bruce's money, though that could just be his stubborn pride talking.

"I'm already his bodyguard, and practically his new butler on top of the superhero stuff and school. So it's not like I don't spend most of my free time there. 'Sides, back in Gotham I only got about three hours of sleep a night." Not that he really functioned well, but he managed it. Besides, school was when he slept.

"How are you not dead? I get maybe four hours a night and I spend most of my time either feeling like a zombie or like my heart's pumping caffeine."

Terry does sound a lot like Tim, someone who doesn't have a ton of a life outside their work, and it isn't helping Howard's impression of him as unstable. Howard suspects that revenge thing is at the root of the whole thing.

"Honestly, I don't even know. Other then the fact that school desks and keyboards are surprisingly comfortable. And I've learned that I can sleep through club music. Not that it makes my girlfriend happy." He felt a twinge of guilt and pain bringing up Dana. He hated to disappoint her, and he hated the fact that she wasn't on the ship. What he wouldn't give to show her the truth about himself now, and to make sure she was saved when the world ended.

"You might be one of the first people to get more sleep here, then. I don't know what it was like last time you were here, but no one makes anyone go to school around here now." He climbs up a low branch and sits in the crook of a tree, kicking his feet. "How old are you, anyway? You're so serious business."

Terry gave a hollow laugh. "Yeah, the world ends, but I finally get the chance to sleep in."

He had to think about that question. At he did, he ran a hand through his hair, only to realize, with a bit of a shock, just how long it had gotten. After all, he'd been here quite some time, and hadn't really had a hair cut. No wonder the inside of the mask had felt a little bit itchy.

"I was almost eighteen when Stacy grabbed me," he said after a few moments, "and then I was around here for about a year. I don't know when it happened, but I probably had a birthday in there. And I'm pretty sure the pods stop people from aging, or at least slow it down a whole lot. So I guess I'm getting close to nineteen."

Slag, he thought, I'm getting old.

"Silver linings, am I right?" For Howard, it's almost weird how much less sleep he gets here than back home. Then again, he expects that living here is such a step up from back home that this is just part of the process of processing.

"I been here like, six months, so I'm probably still fifteen. Not looking forward to finding out what happens when I turn sixteen. Back home, you disappear on your birthdays." That's a gross oversimplification, but 'a hallucination comes and tempts you to vanish and possibly eats you' might take a little explaining.

Terry's brow furrowed. "Your world sounds..." he struggled to find the right words to say in response to that information. "Interesting," was the word he settled on, but it was really just because he thought calling someone else's home world weird might be a little insulting.

"My world is really, really, really, really stupid." Don't worry, Terry. There's no love lost there. "Not that yours doesn't sound dumb too."

"Don't get me wrong, I know my world is stupid. We have clown themed gangs and people that inject animal DNA into themselves. It's pretty crazy," He said with a grin. "I'm just the only one who gets to say that about it."

"Clown gangs." Howard takes a deep breath, reminds himself that Terry won't understand a reference to Insane Clown Posse, and then nods. "Alright. Why not? Nothing could go wrong with clown gangs, and you can save on transport with a ghetto clown car."

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