"For CCAB, I'm Reporter Clark Kent. Thanks for tuning into the goings-on...of our Daily Planet! Good night."
He hated doing that reporter voice. It felt unnatural, like he was trying badly to imitate a celebrity.
Oh, well. It paid Clark Kent's bills, didn't it?
The Daily Planet.
A TV Station that served as the highest-grade news station in the world, based right here in Metropolis.
Politics, Celebrities, and Entertainment. The Planet covered it all. Shame much of what this world had to offer only happened behind the scenes.
This didn't disparage Kent any less. After all, it served as a minor distraction. Much like a video game.
"Hey, Clark!" Shouts a voice.
Kent adjusts his glasses, turning to face Jimmy Olsen. Jimmy was an up-and-coming news assistant, hoping to rise to reporter-dom someday. Unfortunately, he lacked the head needed for this business. Still, he had the gusto not too many people here had. Maybe he'd make it? Jimmy was also very open-minded...And very pliable. Clark often used him as a scapegoat for Ultraman's more secretive dealings. After all, Jimmy was going through college and needed the extra dough. Still, hired help was just hired help. It wasn't like he knew Clark's secret or anything. He thought about telling him, but considering his fear of Ultraman, it'd probably hurt what little relations he and Jimmy already have. He'll keep shut about it. Why fix what wasn't broken?
"Heya, Jimmy." Says Clark, keeping that reporter voice going. He had a separate accent for his secret identity. His native accent wasn't subtle. Connection would be easy to make.
"Talked to the boss today. I think he's gonna finally promote me to Senior Assistant." Says Jimmy.
"Quite a leap." Says Clark happily. "Congrats."
"It wouldn't have been possible without you're recommendation, Clark." Replies Olsen.
"Nah, I think Perry's had his eye on you for a while, anyway." Says Clark with a smile. "Congratulate yourself a bit."
"Well, I gotta report to Mister Perry, but I'll catch ya on the flip side! Pizza on Monday?" Shouts Jimmy as he hurriedly walks away. "Anyway...If this goes well, you'll start callin' me 'Mister Olsen!'"
"Good luck!" Shouts Clark, before muttering "...Not in a thousand years, kid."
The walk outside wasn't very eventful. The occasional hi/bye to acquaintances was monotonous at best. He was anxious to get to "Clark's" home, where he could rest for a while.
As the double doors to the station building opened, Clark Kent breathed in deeply the fresh air of the outside.
Clark Kent: Thirty, Kansas born and raised. Jonathan and Martha Clark found Kal-El as a baby after his escape pod crashed down into their crop fields. However, he was already approaching adolescence. Out of compassion and pity, they took him in. Unfortunately, life in the Kent house was not peachy-keen. While they weren't abusive, they were certainly...indifferent. They went out of their way to keep Clark out of the public eye. This meant that he had to pay his own way into college after completing his GED, his own rent from day one, and certainly couldn't make too many friends out of fear of exposure. They made it clear they did NOT like him, and continuously made an effort to distance themselves from him as much as possible.
Of course, the teenager from the militaristic planet took this as a major insult. It didn't take much effort to sabotage their brakes one day when they went out of town using some well-placed heat-vision. The car careened into a trench, exploding on impact. This left Kent to inherit the house. Using the house as a base, Kent began his criminal career as Ultraman. (His interference turning Kansas into the world's second least safe city in the world!) From there, insert underdog rags-to-riches-with-superpowers story here.
It felt good to escape sometimes.
Despite that though: Deep down, he was and always would be Ultraman.
Just as he began walking to the nearest intersection to cross, something odd happened. A red blur rushed past him. Almost hit him too. A quick look around later revealed a missing briefcase. That blur took his suitcase. He had heard rumors of a red blur in Keystone that would consume valuables in his wake. Many thought it was just some natural phenomenon. No...That had to have been a Super. After all, his pockets were still full. The suitcase did look moderately fancy. Maybe people thought it was full of money? But what was it, no, they doing in Metropolis? It didn't matter. The contents weren't important. It was his pride.
This was a job for the Ultraman.
Clark hurried into the nearest alleyway. With quickness, he pulled open his suit to reveal the symbol of the Ultraman: A shield-shaped triangle, with the letter "U" in red font in the center. Of course, the letter was stylized. A chrome-making, complete with tiny jagged edges at the end of each branch of the letter. Thought it'd be a nice touch. The rest of the suit had a simple blue coloring with a red cape. Just because the "U" was fancy didn't mean the whole costume had to be. He was a Super, not a painting!
He collected all of his clothes and hid them behind the nearest container. Even if some homeless person found it, all it had was a pocket protector and maybe a few twenty dollar bills. Nothing special.
Ultraman wasted no time in flying into the sky, passersby running in fear as he went.
The blur looked like it was headed in the direction of Suicide Slum. Suicide Slum was aptly named because it served as a popular spot for people down on their luck to off themselves. Of course, it had it's poor there too, but that was apparently never on the minds of the rumor-spreaders.
Suicide Slum was also a haven for thieves and the black market. Whoever took his suitcase probably came by there to trade off his stolen goods. That's where Ultraman would find him.
"I'll try talkin' to Bibbo." Thinks Ultraman. "Provided he ain't drunk off his ass again."
Bibbo was a Black Market dealer centered in a tavern called the "One O'Spades." He had good business savvy, but was a raging alcoholic. Ultra performed the occasional side-job for Bibbo, which caused the two to develop a business relationship. One reason Ultra liked Bibbo? He didn't give a shit about client confidentiality. Luckily, when Ultra got there, Bibbo was sober. He'd best take the time to talk now.
The bar wasn't much to speak of. Basic wooden walls. The occasional Beer logo light-sign, but otherwise rather barren. Like something you'd see in the high North, or a ski lodge. Good thing, too. Being decorative in Metropolis was like painting a bulls-eye on your house and saying 'This is important. Attack this.' Certainly hasn't stopped Ultraman in the past.
"Bibbo." Says Ultraman.
Bibbo looked up from his desk, giving a yellow-toothed grin upon seeing the Villain of Steel.
"Ultraman! Just in time! I was gettin' ready to have a pint. Care for a game?" He asks.
"Another time, maybe." Says Ultraman. "I need info on somebody who might have been selling to ya."
If this was anyone else, Bibbo would've asked for money up-front. He must've liked Ultraman, though. He usually put it on a tab, which Ultraman was very good about settling. A valued customer, if you will.
"Got anything to go by?"Asks Bibbo.
"A Super, I reckon." Says Ultraman. "Might have been wearin' red?"
"I don't get many Supers 'round these parts." Says Bibbo. "Wait. There was a kid that came in here a half-hour ago. I swear the kid was lightning fast."
"What'd he pawn or buy?" Asks Ultraman.
"Basic knick-knacks. Didn't buy anything." Said Bibbo. "Kid was mighty stupid, though. I managed to give him only half-price and he weren't the wiser."
"He have anything from the Daily Planet?" Asks Ultraman.
"Why? You into that place?" Asks Bibbo.
"Nah, I got a guy in there. All you need to know." Replies Ultra, furrowing his brow.
"Point taken." Says Bibbo. Ultraman's reluctance to elaborate irritated him, but the villain didn't care.
"Got a name?" Asks Ultra.
"Nope." Says Bibbo. "Kid left as fast as he came in. He was wearing some kinda cloak, so I can't give ya a physical description."
"You know which way he went?" Asks Ultra.
"No idea; kid practically disappeared. Saw somethin' streak westward though, if that does anything." Replies Bibbo.
As Ultraman suspected. Keystone was west of Metropolis. Looks like he found a connection.
"Thanks. That's all I needed to know." Asks Ultra. "By the way, how'd the shipment go?"
"Went swimmingly." Says Bibbo. "Raynes was ecstatic. Owes me a favor now. Thanks again. Oh, I forgot yer share."
"No prob." Replies Ultraman. "And don't worry about it. Use it for my tab."
"Smart thinkin'." Chuckles Bibbo. "Good luck, Ultraman. And I shouldn't have to say...You need somethin'..."
"...I'll come to you."
Not much of a haul. That's what he gets for assuming every guy with a case has money.
Wasn't that stupid a thought though, considering how rampant crime was in North Colonia.
Bah, maybe he was just trying to justify a stupid move? Oh, well.
What's done is done.
Still, the money he got was enough for the week.
Weren't many jobs for a former heroin addict. Certainly didn't look good on a resume. Nor did being barely a high school grad, either. Hell, even burger flippers snubbed him as a nobody. Of course, stealing food from those places didn't help, but those were minor details.
Barry Allen (Current Alias): twenty-five: Job-less, disowned, former addict, and developmental kleptomaniac. Yep, he was a real prize-winner.
Allen stared at the one trinket that stood out in his hellhole apartment: A picture of his mother and father. They certainly didn't get along very well, but once Barry was eighteen, he was kicked out as an incentive to do better. The depression of it all sank in as he resorted to drugs to cope. Luckily, he had managed to mostly recover with therapy. (amassing quite a tab in the process) Of course there was the occasional relapse. To combat them, he had developed a need to steal as a defense mechanism. It kept him off of drugs, but made him more compulsive. Eventually, he'd clean himself up. Get a job. Move on from this...squalor. But, he couldn't face them yet. Not now.
The one thing that thrilled him now were his powers.
Super-speed. Happened to him during one of his kleptomaniac "heists." He received a tip from one of his buyers (The people he sold his trinkets to) of a weird metal that would sell pretty high. Supposedly, it was developed by a scientist named Darryl Frye. According to the buyer, it was going to be implemented into some sort of military project, transported publicly VIA common delivery service to avoid it standing out. The first flag that something was up was the fact that some sleazy street seller who mostly sold cheap drugs and/or illegally obtained trinkets/music/movies/what-have-you had top-secret military information. But like an idiot, Barry, alongside a few other eager beavers, investigated.
It was a sell-out trap, to put it kindly. No sooner had the thieves stuck up the drivers of the car and pried open the container with the loot did an army unit storm in. Most tried to make a run for it, only to be caught or sniped. Barry tried another approach. He decided to try to hold the item hostage in exchange for his freedom. This worked as well as you'd have expected it to, with the army opening fire. Somehow though, the metal had fallen out of the container and grafted itself to him; almost as though it were alive. The metal had sharpened his reflexes, and made him faster. The bullets had done nothing to him. (He later found out that it was because he was continuously moving, trying to dodge) Using his speed, he managed to bail out of there. Afterwards, it had morphed into a ring that he could use to become...whatever he was that time. Since then, he's been able to call upon the speed without transforming.
He used the powers to support his klepto habits. Since then, he's gotten bolder. He never found out what had happened to the guy that sold his group out. (An off-hand rumor suggested he got whacked by one of the local Supers, but he took all rumors with a grain of salt since that day.) Still, he's stuck to petty theft since then. Managed to forge an alias of...questionable quality so far.
"Things'll change, Barry." He says to himself. "They always do."
WHAM!
The noise shook Barry out of his depressive stupor. He looked outside through the one window in his house.
It was a Super wreaking havoc outside.
He didn't waste time gawking. The chaos was indiscriminate. If he didn't hurry, he'd probably be demolished along with this crapshack!
He decided not to use his super-speed. Didn't want to attract attention to himself.
Running outside, he saw the Super throw a tree over his house. (Didn't land on it, thank goodness!)
The Super was someone familiar to pretty much everybody in the Tri-County: Ultraman.
This didn't seem to be his style, but Barry would be damned if he stood around critiquing super-villains.
Ultra wasn't doing much aside from throwing random things around, with the occasional eye blast.
Ultraman must've seen him gawking however, as Barry dodged a laser-blast clearly meant for him using his super-speed. In the process, doing the exact opposite of "not drawing attention to himself."
"Finally found ya, ya crook!" Shouted Ultraman as he flew towards Barry at high speed.
"HOLY SHIT!" Shouted Barry as he began running like his life depended on it, because it did! The ring reacted as it began melting, melding itself and expanding onto his skin. Without noticing, a red suit had found it's way onto Barry's body. The ring must've been some kind of magic doohickey. Not that Barry was complaining. Hell, he was already on the expressway!
Unfortunately, Ultraman wasn't showing any effort to keep up with him.
"I'll teach you to steal from my boys!" Shouts Ultraman.
"The fuck, man?! There was nothin' but useless knick-knacks in there!" Shouts Barry back. "This isn't something worth frying me over!"
Another blast dodged as cars began piling up in an attempt to give the Supers lee-way.
"Not the point, kid!" Shouts Ultraman. "You don't mess with the big boys!"
Ultraman takes in a massive inhale, releasing from his mouth frost that begins covering the streets with intensity. As expected, all of Barry's high speed failed him as he tripped onto the ice.
Ultra didn't bother stopping as he flew towards Barry, his right first raised.
Barry meanwhile, was getting irritated.
"FINE! You wanna dance? C'mon, big guy!" Shouts Barry. He wasn't exactly a slouch in a fight, but he had no doubt in his mind that he wouldn't be making a dent on that alien skin. Still, had to try. Moving in short bursts, he began to vibrate with high speed. As the Kryptonian fist came flying at him, it slipped through a ghostly image of Barry. It wasn't actually an image. But, by vibrating his molecules at a high enough speed, he could become briefly intangible. Using his intangibility, he thrust his right hand into Ultraman's chest. It did some kind of damage, as Ultraman halted any further attack immediately, clutching his chest in pain. Maybe he could do this after all?
"How do you like them apples?!" Shouted Barry. Seeing Ultraman's glare after that made him wish he rescinded that statement.
Ultra rushed him directly this time. He dodged the punches with no effort, but couldn't find a way to retaliate.
"A tornado might stun him, but it wouldn't be effective! He CAN fly!" Thought Barry to himself. "Could try a high speed rush! Not like I have anything else!"
Barry vibrates his arms as he rushed Ultraman in much the same way the latter did. Throwing punch after punch at Ultraman's stomach, he kept on and kept on for a good half-minute. They were nicking him, but weren't stopping him. An upward hook from the enemy stopped Barry instantly, as the force of the blow flung him right back onto the ice.
Barry struggled just to get into a semi-sitting position, but he couldn't. Any chance he might've had was gone. If he hadn't had the ring on his side, he'd be ground putty right now.
Of course, that was probably gonna be his fate anyway, given the pissed-off alien Super walking towards him menacingly.
What happened next though was weird. Ultraman began laughing.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" Laughs Ultraman. The little pain from Barry's blows seemed to have subsided as Ultra stops right in front of his fallen foe. Just standing there, laughing.
Barry was fffffucked.
"Wow kid, you've got some brass balls!" Says Ultraman as his laugh reduces itself to a chuckle. "Color me impressed."
Barry couldn't really respond to what was happening here. Was there some kind of gas leak? Or was he hallucinating from the pain of a two-ton punch? Dream or not, Barry didn't bother getting himself off of the icy ground. No sudden moves.
"Didn't expect ya to stand up to me, considerin' my rep." Says Ultraman, having finally calmed down from...whatever he was feeling. "You're somethin' else."
Ultraman extends a helping hand to Barry. He expected a psych-out, but things couldn't get much worse at this point. So, he took it.
It was genuine. As soon as Barry relaxed, Ultraman did too.
"I expected ya to puss out and bail." Said Ultraman. "But you stood yer ground. That's somethin' to me."
"What do you want?" Asks Barry.
"I was gonna smear ya across Keystone, originally." Says Ultraman. "But after what you did, I think i'm gonna use ya instead."
Barry's mouth swirled into a grimace. That had a number of connotations. Ultra caught on.
"Me and a friend are puttin' together a team o' Supers." Says Ultraman. "We could use somebody of you're...unique talents."
"Like a gang?" Barry asks. "Tried that before. Almost got filled full of lead."
"Not a gang." Replied Ultraman. "We're...well, we dunno what we're gonna be. But it'll be a more permanent partnership. You think about joinin' us, I'll consider you and me square."
"Gotta say, this sounds too good to be true...And usually, these things are." Replies Barry.
"Well, you can keep tryin' to strike out in that roach-infested shack ya call an apartment, scrapin' to get by..." Says Ultraman sarcasticaly.
"Saw that, did ya?" Asks Barry.
"C'mon kid. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance." Says Ultra, getting annoyed. "Besides, ya have the looks of a green rookie. Maybe with us, ya can make somethin' of yourself."
He had a point. Barry wasn't gonna get anywhere scraping.
"Ok. Tell your friend I'm in." Says Barry.
"Good man." Says Ultraman. "Our next meetin' is in Metropolis. Chezz Joey's. You've been there before...right?"
Barry chuckles a bit before nodding.
"Good. See ya there." Says Ultraman, as he begins flying upwards before stopping. "By the way, you need a name to go with that costume. 'Barry Allen' ain't exactly gonna make people piss themselves. See ya."
Barry wanted to ask how Ultra knew his name, but found asking the guy with X-Ray Vision who can probably see his wallet contents pointless.
As Ultraman flew away, all Barry could do was stare at the ring on his right finger. Maybe it wasn't the curse he assumed it was.
"Ooh, this food is delicious!"
All Ultraman could do was stare at Superwoman, who was eating her chicken breast like a hunted kill. He, and Owlman seemed disgusted at her lack of manners. Barry was indifferent. Besides, she was a nice piece of ass...though he'd never say that part out loud.
It had been two days since Ultraman and Barry's tangle in the Metropolis-Keystone Expressway Bridge. Barry had, unfortunately, not decided on a Super identity just yet. He wanted to meet these people first, just in case Ultraman had ended up fucking with him. Was he being too cautious? Yes. Yes, he was. And he didn't regret it for a minute.
He didn't expect villains like these to have chivalry. Still, it was quite a thrill hanging with some of the big boys.
Owlman, the crime-lord of Gotham.
Metropolis' scourge-slash-occasional-protector Ultraman.
And the up-and-coming Superwoman, the misandrist overseer of Bludhaven. (Who was currently vying with The Crow for territory)
Owlman finally breaks the awkward silence.
"So far, the recruitment has gone beyond my calculated expectations." Says Owlman. "Your finding of Mister Allen was quite an achievement, Ultraman. With his super-speed, we can communicate much easier with our contacts. And, with some training, you could become quite the escape artist, Mister Allen."
"An escape artist, huh?" Asks Barry.
"There's more to victory than just beating something until it's dead." Says Owlman.
"He looks like a wimp." Says Superwoman, who had finally finished eating, and was now staring Barry down, scaling him. He felt slightly intimidated.
"That wimp managed to make me bleed for the first time in a while." Says Ultraman.
"You a masochist, Kryptonian?" Asks Superwoman, chuckling.
Ultraman ignores the comment, instead turning to face Barry.
"You ever find a name, kid?' Asks Ultraman, tearing a raw steak in half.
"Nothing yet." Says Barry. "I thought of something like 'The Flash' or 'Zoom.'"
"'The Flash?'" Asks Superwoman. "Can't say it rolls off the tongue."
"I agree." Says Owlman. A super identity needs...authority. Your name is ultimately up to you, however."
"Wait...I got it...Slipstream." Says Barry, spreading his arms in imaginary highlighting.
Superwoman nods in agreement.
"THAT is a Super's name." She says.
"Nice." Says Ultraman.
"Now that that little gem's out of the way..." Says Owlman. "We have a job."
The other three all listen intently as Owlman begins speaking.
"Remember I mentioned to Superwoman about a Superhuman police force? They're growing bolder. Five of my underlings were attacked yesterday by this group. This isn't something I intend to take lying down."
"You want us to clean up you're mess?" Asks Superwoman.
"This isn't just my mess now, is it?" Replies Owlman smugly. "If they are attacking my men, imagine when they'll attack yours. Ultraman and Slipstream may not have any stake in this yet, but eventually they may. This affects all of us, short or long term. Stamping out rebellion."
"I find it ironic you say you ain't the 'conquer the world' type, but talkin' about rebellion." Says Ultraman.
"You never know what the future can bring." Says Owlman with an optimistic tone. "Besides, this gives Slipstream a chance to get his toes warm. We need to see how he performs in the field. A chance fluke with Ultraman notwithstanding."
"I'm in." Slipstream says.
"I'm in too." Says Ultraman. "Nobody messes with my colleagues. Let alone, my friends."
"'Friends?'" Asks Superwoman sarcastically. "Should we all hold hands and sing Yankee Doodle?"
"Friends come in many flavors." Replies Owlman. "Cease you're yammering. Now...Are you in?"
His tone showed clear annoyance.
"Sigh...I suppose." Says Superwoman in resigning.
"Very good." Says Owlman. "Now then...Who's covering the bill? Not it."
"Considering she's been runnin' her mouth since we got here, SuperSnarky here can pay for it." Says Ultraman, looking at Superwoman jokingly. "Certainly ate more than the rest of us."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Asks Superwoman angrily.
Ultraman and Owlman just chuckle at Super's inability to grasp the joke, while Slipstream sips the complementary wine.
For the first time in a long while, Barry Allen actually couldn't wait to wake up in the morning.
