Disconnected By Inscriber
"Training," Black Canary demanded, "Now." Black Canary demanded. Her eyes were locked on Superboy as the black haired teen pushed himself out from under a blazing red motorcycle. His face was streaked with black grease, but despite the hard work he'd been doing, not a trace of sweat was to be found-another thing not found on his face was a look of regret or submission.
"What's the point?" the super-powered teen said after a momentary pause, "No one can beat me." The clone argued, shrugging and picking himself off the ground and then reaching for a towel to wipe off his soiled hands
"We've been over this," the instructor sighed, sounding exasperated, "Training is mandatory."
"But I don't have to train. I am a living weapon-a clone of the Man of Steel. I am indestructible, unbeatable-I was born trained." The clone recited, as if reading a text book.
"You learned a thing or two with Amazo." The blonde haired mentor inserted smugly, remembering a few weeks ago when the teen had willingly stepped onto the training platform. Apparently, however, the lesson had been lost amongst the recent string of victories.
"And ever since then not even you have beaten me." Superboy said bluntly, redirecting his attention back to the cycle that had been preoccupying him earlier. Black Canary's eyes blazed.
"There is always room to improve." She stated, casting her angry gaze of Clark's genetic twin.
"But not for me." The clone said plainly, the clinking of a wrench filling the garage as he ducked his head under the motor.
"So you think you're unbeatable? You think you're indestructible and that no one can take you on?" Black Canary said, fury barely contained in her words as the boy's arrogance nipped at her dwindling pool of patience.
"Yes." Conner replied, this time not even bothering to flick his eyes in her direction. She was only a distraction now, in his eyes, taking him away from much more important work, such as figuring out how to improve his motorcycle. Besides, it took a lot of concentration to not bend or break the wrenches and screwdrivers-they were eggshells in his hand, dainty and oh so fragile.
"We'll see about that." Black Canary muttered, before abruptly turning and leaving the room with an irritated march prancing in her steps.
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Black Canary tilted her head upwards towards the big screen that adorned the wall. The computer's monitor flashed with a telling light and the word "Connecting…" started to scroll across the screen lazily. She drummed her fingers against the table, her impatient mood clashing with the computer's relaxed loading time. She took her job as the teens' instructor seriously-and even though it had been described as a battle instructor, she found that being an 'instructor' involved the emotional pain as well. Which meant Superboy was one of her main concerns.
The computer screen flashed again but this time Superman answered. His crystal blue eyes were deep with curiosity and he was wearing a half smile that reminded her of his adoptive father's charming grin. How Superman could be so disengaged with Conner when his own adoptive father was so kind was beyond Black Canary-or it had been until now. She planned on resolving this pointless disconnect today.
"Black Canary," The Man of Steel greeted her like the old friends they were.
Black Canary sighed, "Clark-this is important. If you're doing anything-stop." She ordered, and the man's face got serious, a small frown line touching his usually calm face.
"What is this about?" he asked instantly, his voice somewhat shorter than it usually was, and he seemed to dip in towards the computer more.
"Conner."
Superman gave her a confused look. He didn't know a Conner, but from the way Black Canary said it, he felt as though he should. The blonde instantly noted the man's confusion and her frown thickened.
"Superboy. His friends helped him pick an Earth name for himself."
Superman's face contorted into something darker as soon as he realized where this would lead. His grows were slammed over his eyes in angry slants and for second she thought he would end the transmission, but after a momentary pause the hero relaxed and the line stayed linked.
"What does, erm, Conner have to do with your call?"Superman asked.
"He has stopped training because he believes he has learned all he can." Black Canary replied, and the Man of Steel's eyes mirrored her narrowed ones.
"That's impossible." Clark shot out instantly. How was that possible? It had only been a few weeks since the last time he had seen the boy out in the field. His reaction time was impressive, granted, but he was rash and hadn't displayed any signs he was considering what impact his actions had on his surroundings, how much power he had and how one miscalculation could result in someone's death. It had taken Clark years to simply be able to operate perfectly in the world that, to him and very likely Superboy, was made of cardboard.
"You're right." Black Canary agreed, but her voice was hard and the Man of Steel was rightfully wary of where the woman would take this, "But I can't prove him wrong. He has beaten Artemis, Robin, Kid Flash, Miss Martian, and even Aqualad in the ring-not even I can beat him anymore. He is simply to o strong for the others and he's learned to analyze his battle situations much more effectively. Now he's unwilling to develop anything else. After all, to him he's right-he's learned all he needs to. To him you don't need to be covert when you can just take out the boss, you don't need to learn you're limitations when none exist. To him, he is unbeatable."
Superman sat back in the chair, "What are you going to do with it?" he asked after a few seconds of silence.
Black Canary's eyes widened with distaste.
"I'm not doing anything anymore. You're going to do something. You're going to come down here and show him why he needs to train." The instructor said with steel in her voice, and she watched Superman's face contort with discomfort and mild anger, "He needs someone, Clark. He needs a father, and you're the closest thing he had." Canary added softly.
"I'm not his father!" Superman interjected forcefully.
"No-you're not. But the Kent's weren't you're parents either." Black Canary pointed out, her deep eyes softening a little. The mention of his adoptive family cut off the hero instantly, and his eyes flickered to the right to avoid her piercing gaze and she continued, "What would you have done Clark? You had the Kent's to teach you about the world and even about yourself-but Conner has no one. He can't relate to anyone and he's living in a base. He doesn't have a home, a family, and he has just now enrolled in school-a building filled with teens who posses none of his strength but all the things he unknowingly longs for."
"I'm a reminder of everything he's not." Superman said, strength returning to his voice.
"Whether he would admit it or not, you are his hero-or at least you were. I don't know anymore. You haven't been his hero. You're a reminder of what he could, what he aspires, to be." Canary said almost sadly, somehow managing to convey anger as well.
"He doesn't need me to-" the man began, but Canary cut him off.
"To what? To breathe? To exist? You're right, he doesn't. But he needs you to teach him. He needs you to be the father you had. He needs you to be the family he never got to hav
Superman cast another glance at to the right, his eyes dragging themselves away from the blonde.
"I'll be there in a few minutes." He said-disconnecting shortly after he said it.
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Conner angrily threw the mangled wrench across the floor-that was the third one in the past hour, the stupid fragile things! Why was everything so breakable? That's his acute hearing picked up the noise of footprints approaching the door. Frustrated, he picked himself up onto his feet and off his knees -not caring that his face, arms, and most of his clothes were stained with splotches of grease and oil. He and Black Canary had been over this all week, and the subject was pointless. He didn't need to train and it was a huge waste of everyone's time-especially his. If this was another conversation about how training was 'mandatory', he was going to scream nearly as loud as Canary herself.
The door slid open and Superboy turned exasperatedly, "I'm not going to-" he began, but stopped short when he was fully facing the door.
Superman walked in, his red cape swaying behind him leisurely and his eyes already pinning Conner where he stood.
Superman stopped about four feet away from the clone and both stood there awkwardly for a span of several seconds. The tension in the room was instant and surprisingly thick with pressure, but neither of the Kryptonians knew how to react. The room felt frozen and then the pause seemed far too long to be natural and Superman unwillingly decided to be the first to speak, sure nothing would happen if it were left to the younger Super to instigate a conversation.
"Superboy." The Man of Steel greeted formally, not accustomed to addressing the teen directly. The clone responded with a nod and his interest piqued clearly in his eyes, "Black Canary, uh, tells me you haven't been attending training sessions."
"No." Conner answered bluntly, as unused to conversing with Superman as he was to Conner.
"Why?" Superman asked, trying not to sound as mechanical, but failing and his voice clung to its unfamiliar and emotionless tone.
"I do not need to train. It's a waste of everyone's time. A waste of mine." Superboy answered bluntly, not sure where this was leading.
The room grew quiet once more, but for a smaller amount of time.
"I noticed the wrenches piling in the corner." The Man of Steel spoke up awkwardly, trying to remember how his surrogate father started talks.
"Yeah. What about them?" the clone asked, not sure if he should be defensive or not.
"They're mangled."
"They're like eggshells." Superboy said disgustedly, his mind temporarily focused on the hand-imprinted tools occupying a corner near the door.
"Yes, they are. However, Wonder Women knows a blacksmith-a really good one that can make very strong tools. Maybe I could…pick some up for you?" the man said, knowing Diana would be happy to help out with the Young Justice anyway she could.
"Um, thanks." Conner replied.
"So…what are you working on?" Superman asked, feeling the tension in the room relax to an at least bearable condition.
"Motorcycle." The teen answered, jabbing his thumb behind him to a bright red motorcycle that shined with a new coat of wax, and Superman nodded at the machine, clearly impressed with the boys handy work-especially when you considered just how dainty everything was to him.
"So," Superboy trailed, "Why are you here?"
"Black Canary says you haven't been going to training." Superman restated, and he received a nod from the boy.
"They can't teach me anything else." Conner answered, and then looked up at Superman with half-expectant eyes.
Superman gave the teen a long look.
"Maybe," the man began, "Maybe I…could help them with that."
Superboy blinked a couple times.
"How?"
Superman rubbed the back of his neck, thinking back to the day with the bus.
"We could work on your landings. We-I could help you…learn your limitations."
"…Why now?" Superboy asked plainly. Why was the Man of Steel suddenly taking such interest in him? The clone didn't understand the dramatic change in Superman's behavior.
The elder Super shifted his weight though it was unnecessary and finally let out a long sigh.
"I realized that I haven't been entirely…fair to you. Black Canary helped me see that I haven't been a very good…-mentor." The man decided on finally.
"No." Superboy agreed without thinking, "So, are you going to be doing this a lot?"
"I've discussed things with Black Canary-I'm taking over you're training."
Conner bit back his instant retort of "I don't need it".
"So, when?" Conner asked, reaching over for a towel to wipe his hands and face off with.
"That's up to you." Superman, "I thought you weren't going to be training."
Conner paused for a second.
"How do you fly?"
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Author's Note: So, what did you think? Good? Just something that's been playing on my mind…So, yeah.
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