[video]

[velocette]

[He's been mulling this over since he met Hannibal, really.]

What was the first turning point in your life? Do you even remember who your real heroes were, when you were a kid? Or maybe some people do actually idolize their parents. For me, the only idols are the ones who can't become real, but it's been pointed out to me before that it's possible to worship someone in spite of their faults.

Comments

[routemistress]

When I were a little girl, there was - 'is name was Dick, and 'e was a highwayman. And I'd've done anything. Anything. To convince 'im I were worth keeping around. To let me follow 'im. And I did, 'cause I'm better at convincing than I knew back then.

Dick turned out to be... well, a bit of a dick, in the finish. But the things I loved in 'im; the freedom and adventure and the way 'e smiled. Well. Some things stick a long time, don't they?

[velocette]

It's almost a question of nature and nurture: were you after him because of things you saw in yourself? Or did he create them?

[He's pretty sure it's the former, and his tone says as much.]

[routemistress]

[She snorts.]

That little tit never created anything. I just didn't know enough to know pink slime from steak. Dick were the most alive thing in my universe, back then, though.

[velocette]

[It strikes an uncomfortable chord in him--'the most alive thing.' But he isn't one to duck and run from discomfort, even if he does fall silent for a full minute, and then two, seeming to forget she's even there. Two minutes can be a long time to wait, and most people hang up on him when he does that, but he starts talking without checking to see if she has.]

What did you do when you realized he was just more of the slime?

[routemistress]

[She's talking from the lab, her communicator propped on the beetle tank where she can look into it while she fiddles with chicken genome data; so it's not switched off, though Iris startles pleasantly to hear the Boy's voice.]

That were when I found the bus. I started the engine and never looked back.

[She says this with a particular knowing grin, fairly certain he'll recognise that coping strategy.]

...'Ave you read Gormenghast, at all?

[velocette]

I've heard of it. My old man had a copy of Titus Alone but I never could track down the others. Why?

[routemistress]

'Cause it's a pretty accurate snapshot of where I grew up. Not, you know, details accurate, but the flavour, the way Wherewithal House were. A place so mouldered and dry and unchanging that breathing the air made me want to scream or punch someone.

Dick might've been pink slime, but 'e looked so good set against that old dust.

[velocette]

...It's possible, I suppose, he just didn't want me to read the others. In that case. He always was very aware of how I felt about our situation. [Which is a weak way of saying 'poverty'.]

You know- I think in my world, I was the slime.

[ichoosefight]

Superman.

My parents were pretty crappy.

[velocette]

[He smiles a bit.] That's sort of why I liked the Flash for a while. Then I discovered motorcycles, of course, which are as close as I'll get to being like him.

[ichoosefight]

Yeah... I climbed trees. Got on the roof more than a few times. Like if I got high enough in the sky he'd show up.

[routemistress]

A poor substitute for a real thing? You?

...I 'ave a problem believing that, my love.

[bodilesswarrior]

I made my own heroes. My friend and I. [Her smile is soft, and wistful.] Rocketgirl, Amazogirl. Supergirl, too, there wasn't one back then.

And Batgirl, of course.

[velocette]

[He nods slightly, studying her like he can see through her to the point in time she's talking about.]

Do you still like heights?

[velocette]

Thank you. But it's true, I'm afraid they thought I was something very different, and I let them believe it. The last girl, she turned to heroin when I couldn't fill the absence like she wanted.

[velocette]

We didn't have a lot of women heroes back home, but things were starting to change. I mean we had Wonder Woman comics...but she always seemed like kind of a parody to me, an inversion of the mainstream fantasy.

Seems like you became your own kind of hero, anyway, from the way everyone around here looks at you.

[routemistress]

[She winces a little in sympathy.]

It's 'ard not to blame yourself for a thing like that. I know. But you can't live your life according to what other people need. Can you?

[ichoosefight]

Up to a point. The point where I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna fall to my death.

[ For example: trees are safe. A gargoyle on the top of Wayne Enterprises, not as much. ]

[soliterraneous]

There were none.

[velocette]

No guiding lights?

[It doesn't seem farfetched to him, not here of all places.]

What about molding influences, then?

[velocette]

Have you ever flown? I always wanted to try that, you know, one of those hanggliders, maybe. Even an airplane with enough windows would work--but I'd miss the wind in my hair.

[He might be joking, a teeny bit, with the way he fluffs his raggedy red hair.]

[soliterraneous]

My entire society, everything...I was surrounded by. There was one thing to be and one thing only.

[ichoosefight]

No, never. Not even in an airplane. I've never been out of Gotham.

[velocette]

And I know her choices were her own--her choice to put her faith in me and her choice to turn to something completely false afterward. But it's hard to argue with certain evidence, when the evidence is stating you're the common link in so many people giving up.

[velocette]

What was that one thing?