Bart(#1119Pfces) Before you stands a typically annoying-yet-adorable street kid, who looks to be about eleven years old, maybe twelve. His scruffy brown hair is desperately in need of a trim, but it's halfway hidden by a big black felt pirate's hat, with an embroidered death's head blazing white on the front. The boy's amber-colored eyes twinkle at you from beneath that defiant mane of hair, and his mouth seems to be fixed in a quirky, cheerful sort've grin. The kid is wearing the standard newsboy 'uniform' of a rather dirty, raggedly patched button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a leather vest from heaven knows where; his trousers are the short kind worn by small boys, which button right below the knee. However, one button is missing and the trouser eg is held together by a piece of shoestring, and he's barefoot - no shoes or stockings. Around his waist is tied a makeshift swordbelt, from which hangs a simple wooden sword made by tying two short, thin planks together with twine. In his back pocket is a wool cap. Boy of Tomorrow has arrived. There's something unique about this young man, in both his build and his body language. His form seems to be pieced together akwardly, as if certain parts of his body don't quite match certain others. For instance, he has extremely wide shoulders - yet his body tapers down, almost against the laws of natural human form, to an incredibly small waist. Still, his form and stance shows that's he's athletic and toned, and the look in his eyes indicates that he's constantly aware of his surroundings. His dress is simple but telling - a dark brown leather jacket is worn unzipped, beaten and rough from years of use. beneath this he wears a fairly normal, loose grey shirt left untucked. His pants are dark grey work pants, and (while not dirty) are beaten up enough to look comfortable. 1936. Summer. The air is clear, hot, and a little breezy in Metropolis this fine night. People go out for walks; seek out matinee's at the nearest movie palace; and some of the elite have come to Perry White Memorial Hall auditorium on the University of Metropolis's large, history-steeped campus. A few local campus cops patrol the area, they don't really appear to be doing much except for talking with friends. The air inside the big hall is abuzz with excitement as people find their ways to the hardbacked wooden chairs lined up in neat rows. In the front few rows, young cub reporters and old experienced pressmen squeeze together. Some ready bulky flashlight cameras. Rows back, everyone from councilmen to students find seats, the men doffing their hats, the women their shawls and boas. Its a mix of the rich and powerful and the poor and scholarly for the most part. Mae Kent Deep, eyes of crystal blue gaze at you, like starlit gems in the clear night sky, as waves of pure, blond hair flow freely about her, the waist length hair pulled back into a ponytail with her bangs styled to give it a semi-formal look. Her smooth, silky skin gently caresses the delicate lines and soft contours of her youthful face, accenting her thin, red lips and small nose. Healthy and slim, the soft curves of her athletic figure speak of her active lifestyle, and mature age. She wears a tannish-beige, heavy cotten v-necked vest, except instead of buttons, it seems to be closed by small rectangular strips of cloth over a formal white collar buttonned down men's shirt which has been evidently retailored to fit her curves. Loose fitting tannish beige khaki pants hang on her form, hiding her feminine shape, with small matching tannish shoes which lack any laces, but instead have cloth straps like the vest. A dusty brown bag hangs diagnally across her shoulder and golden hooped earrings hang from her earlobes, completing her look. While people are chattering up a storm in the usual fashion before a big public event, many eyes drift towards the stage. The center of attention, the wooden dais with the podium and microphones is relatively less busy...the reknowned man of science Lex Luthor sits to one side of the podium, glancing idly around...to his left, a scholarly looking man with a rumpled suit and frizzled white hair...and to this man's left, a fattish man in a clean powder blue suit and thin mustache. The latter seems to be glancing at his watch, and nodding to the security. Boy of Tomorrow sits in a seat about five rows back, his language speaking volumes about his desire - or lack thereof - to be in this auditorium at this specific moment. But a promise is a promise, and the Boy of Tomorrow always keeps his word. Thus, although his arms are crossed and his head is held low, this young man is determined to enjoy what he can from tonight's lecture. Theater security people casually watch over things as much as a minimum wage security person would. "I heard its a light ray..." one blustering elderly man mutters to his wife. "Nah, gotta be something else...something like...a rocket ship!" a young student offers nearby. "Been reading too many of them dime novels, brother", a bored looking newshound rejoinders. Bart scoots around, behind and between people, trying as hard as he can (which is pretty hard, and kind of too hard, considering the security here) to avoid anyone official-looking. He seems t'be casing the joint, checking out who he can look to for help or camoflage in case of emergency. Young Jimmy Olsen of the Daily Planet shoves his hat back, scratching below the small placard that read's press. He eyes a competitor from the Gotham Gazette. "...hey, Vale...heard you were busy over in Madrid...too hot for ya?" He gives a coy wink, and fiddles with his camera. <> Vicki Vale responds with a half smirk. "...I'm bursting with laughter, Olsen. Isn't there a soda fountain you should be covering somewhere?" The other newshounds chuckle. They quiet down when they see the burly man with the mustache stand up. A couple security people find some kids trying to sneak in without a ticket and escort them to the door "Alright kids get outa here, go on get." A society dame lets out a small "Oh my! Well I never..." as Bart scrunches past her. She fans herself, shaking her head. Dabbing sweat beads from his forehead, the large man with the mustache on the stage coughs in the direction of the cluster of microphones. He taps one testily. "Ahem." Mae Kent pushes one of the smaller side doors open and steps inside, taking a glance about the auditorium before setting her sights on an empty chair. She lets go of the door which she was holding open with one hand and opens up the book in her other, walking directly to an empty chair she picked out during her intial scan of the room. Bart spies the Boy of Tomorrow. . o O ( Hmm. Looks awful bored. ) He ducks past a couple more security people and scoots over to the Kid, plopping down in the empty seat next to him and looking terribly innocent. "I'm with him," he says to anyone who asks, pointing his thumb over at the older boy. Doctor Hemmingway, guardian and father figure of the Boy of Tomorrow, nudges his young student with an elbow. "Pay attention," he says in a relatively gruff (but cheerful) voice, gesturing to the podium. "this man's going to say something important, I'm sure. Revolutionary! Altering! Something which will affect the .. course .." his words trail off as he notices the Kid's good-natured look. "Am I rambling again? Sorry. Still, you understand - listen." He points to the podium once again. <> Looking nervously at the microphones, the fattish man motions to a man in the front row. "Light...come up here...yes, now." A skinny looking scholar in v-neck sweater and glasses walks up to the stage. He fiddles with something. "There ya go, Mr. Lord." The mustachioed man nods, thankfully. "Good good...never was good with this sort of thing. Thank you, Arthur." THe man walks back down the stairs to his seat, smiling dully. Bart sneaks a glance at the kid he's trying to claim he's with. There's an uneasy pause, and another man in the front row points to the chubby figure at the podium. "...you're on..." he hisses in a half whisper. A security guard looks at his watch oO (Dam I hope this doesn't take long I'm suppose to meet my girl later.) "Oh...Uhm. Hello, ladies, gentleman. This is Senator Maxwell Lord..." The sweaty fat man begins, speaking into the microphones. "I'm speaking to you from Perry White Memorial Hall on the campus of the University of Metropolis. As I'm sure you all now, we're on the verge of a new era...an era to be introduced here, tonight, and broadcast by our fine wireless services across the nation..." Mae Kent removes a bookmark from her bag and places it in her page, before closing the book and placing it inside her bag. She looks up at the stage quietly and folds her hands across her lap. The audience goes suddenly silent for the most part. Boy of Tomorrow senses "Bart looks puzzled, and taps your shoulder. "Hey, mister," he whispers, "Who's Perry White?"" <> Boy of Tomorrow squints his eyes as the young newsboy next to him whispers something. After a thoughtful pause, he leans to his side and whispers back. Boy of Tomorrow whispers "I don't know. I don't think it's too important, though." "Its with great pleasure that I'd like to introduce the man who's going to lead us to into this new dawn...a man well known in the scholarly and scientific circles for his many findings. A man who will explain to you just how his new fantastic invention will mean a world without hunger, poverty and war. Lets all welcome, our special guest...Doctor Lex Luthor." He steps away from the podium applauding. The audience joins in. Bart ose and settles back, quieting down. He looks thoughtful, anyway. Mae Kent applauds politely but remains, for the most part, relatively unemotional about the whole thing. Doctor Hemmingway bursts into applause, straightening up as he sounds out his enthusiasm. Glancing to the side, he nudges his young counterpart, the Boy of Tomorrow, who immediately begins clapping as well. <> Bart blinks. "Gloryosky! No hunger or poverty?" He claps wildly, then hesitates, and asks the Kid next to him something in a low voice. "What's poverty?" White shimmering flashes of light come from the front rows, with the clicking of shutters as the press takes its initial snaps of the scene. From the main stage, Lex Luthor emerges and slowly makes his way to the podium, his solemn visage unbroken as he takes his position to speak. "Good evening, assembled ladies and gentleman. I am pleased to see such distinguished company gathered merely to hear me tell of my latest vacation." He pauses for a brief moment. "Or did you want to hear about my invention?" He pauses again, as if expecting laughter. Then the stern countenance returns. "They told me I had to open with a joke," he says, with a resigned shrug. "But," he begins, his voice taking on a deep, sonorous quality, "this is nothing that needs to be joked about. Because, with the assistance of my sponsors," he inclines his head at the 'businessman' who runs the University,"I, Lex Luthor, have managed to find a way to singlehandedly make the entire world once again habitable and livable, for all people." Boy of Tomorrow's jaw goes a bit slack at the introduction, but becomes firmly rooted in his mouth again as Bart speaks to him. He glances to his side, but is interrupted by Luthor's words. From the main stage, Lex Luthor seems to wait for just a moment after his announcement, appearing to bathe, almost, in the reaction of the crowd. From the main stage, a few burly men roll out a large draped box on a dolley. They position it behind Lex as he speaks. The implication is clear...this is the invention in question. <> An audience full of people who have lived through the 'War to End All Wars' and the Crash of '29 listen eagerly. Some seem to be taking in breaths. Pencils scribble as students and reporters alike take notes. Some of the men standing against the wall near the entrance get a little distracted by the arrival of Poison Ivy. Bart strains to see above the monster hat of the socialite in front of him. He mutters dark things about not having his scissors with him. More flashes from the front rows, freezing images of the Man of the Hour on photo-plates. A security guard sighs oO (New era right.... man I can't believe they made me work when the Meteors were playing the Griffins) There isn't a sound from the back of the hall, merely a stirring of motion as clustered reporters, officials, and security make like the Red Sea in front of Moses. As they part, four large men clad in loose open-necked shirts, and large, loose pants, wearing slippers, their heads wrapped in cloth enter, carrying a large wicker chair between them. They move slowly and deliberately, holding their burden reverently, a green-clad beauty of Oriental flavor. She herself is silent, as are those around her, as a wisp of smoke trails in a long curl from her cigarette. Her eyes never leave Dr. Luthor for a moment, seeming almost bemused. Finally the men lower the catbird seat to the ground, standing around it protectively, impassive as statues. Hal Jordan steps just inside and tips back the beat up fedora that sits on his head. He doesn't seem to be interested in the man on the stage or even paying attention to it. Rather, he's scoping the crowd hunting for someone. From the main stage, Lex Luthor stands there for another moment, drawing out the anticipation, and then nods to the men bringing out the device. "The bulk of the Earth's land is unusable for any agricultural production. It is either too arid, lacking the moisture needed for the plantlife to grow, or it is far too humid, stifling any attempt at cultivation." He looks about, his eyes falling upon various members of the audience, as he makes his declaration. "What if, I ask you, the land currently encompassed by the vast, useless, Sahara Desert, were to be used to grow wheat and other grains?" He awaits the murmurs and mumbled answers to his rhetorical question, and then he cuts it off. "That is the question that I asked myself, four and a half years ago, when I began this project." Another dramatic pause. "And tonight, I have the answer to that question." He waves a hand grandly at the thing brought out, and still covered. Bart frowns. "But ain't that where phay-rohs and camels live? What's 'e gonna do with -them-?" It's not the words that the Boy of Tomorrow seems to grow entranced by, but their implications. Rhetoric is just rhetoric, after all, but _inspiring_ rhetoric - well, that's a whole different story. And this seems to be the most inspiring rhetoric this young man has heard of. For, unlike previously assumed by both himself and his teacher, the Boy of Tomorrow is mesmerized by the future, and the possibilities therein. He glances at Bart as the young boy speaks, and shakes his head slightly. "Details!" he exclaims. Photogs strain to get snaps of the draped box, muttering amongst themselves. Jimmy Olsen peers over his shoulder briefly, muttering "...wonder who the dish is...must be a Hollywood type...regular Cecil B. DeMille entrance." He pulls a lever on the back of his camera, raising it and readying to take another picture of Luthor. <> Bart feels sorry for the poor camels. Mae Kent peers quietly at Dr. Luthor's presentation, awaiting the unveiling silently, occasionally clapping when appropriate. She hardly notices Ivy's entrance or possibly ignores it. Sen. Lord and the frizzy haired white man on the stage glance at the box nearby. Lord actually licks his lips, smiling as he knows he's just squared away a repuatation as a benafactor to a benafactor to all mankind. Hal Jordan makes his way into the seated area as best he can without attracting any attention. Which means he bumps elbows and seats awkwardly. "Oops." "Sorry, Mac" "Hey watch it buddy.." From the main stage, Lex Luthor continues, but only after the murmuring has died down. "Why is it that we have territoried possessing of too much water, while others possess far too little?" He raises his hands, as he does so, emphasizing it. "Why?" He looks around, waiting for an answer. "There is no reason why. Only that no one has bothered to take care of it." He grins for a moment, milking the crowd, before continuing. "Well, I have." And with that, he waves his hand. "Introducing, the Lexatron!" And with that, the curtain falls, revealing the complicated twisting of pipes and wires, with a large fan on either side. The widening of eyes, the clamoring for a better look, the muttering, the exclamations...for a moment, there's every sign of a controlled panic as people gaze upon the Lexatron. Mae Kent turns her head briefly to glance at whoever's making all that ruckus trying to get a seat and then turns her head back to the presentation . . before pausing. She seems to think to herself for a moment and turns her head back again as range of emotions suddenly reveal themselves on her once unemotional face, ranging anywhere from surprise and shock to anger and possibly resentment. She pushes the thought aside as she turns back to the stage as Lex unveils his invention . . <> A guard looks to the stage, shakes his head and goes back to work oO (Man my girlfriend was right. This thing is waaaaaay over my head) Boy of Tomorrow leans forward in his chair, placing his hands on his knees as he balances himself. "Crazy," he exclaims in a soft voice, then glances at his Professor. "Doctor, what _is_ that thing?" Bart hmms. "Looks like that trolley pulley motor I broke." Hal Jordan whoahs and ducks down out of people's way so they can see whatever it is they're looking at. Eventually he flops into a chair next to Mae with a sly grin on his face. His arm naturaly slides around to rest on the back of her's "Hey doll, miss me?" Letting out a sigh of frustration, Mae Kent squints her eyes to get a better look at the Lexatron, but her thoughts are distracted now as she tries to ignore Hal to try and focus on the invention, she mutter to him, "You've got a lot of nerve coming here, I'm -trying- to watch Dr. Luthor's unveiling." From the main stage, The crowd again is milked like an expert cowhand as the doctor watches, basking again in the glory that is his to command, before he continues. "The Lexatron works on an advanced principle of humidation and de-humidation. Placed in an area super-saturated by water to the point of flood, it will drain the excess moisture from the air and store it in specially designed storage tanks. Then, with the aide of any sort of transportational system, it can be brought to an arid climate, and rehumidate the area with the stored water." He almost seems to pose for the cameras as they flash, before continuing. "By introducing the water in this form, as compared to a simple airlift, it will not simply wash away, but will instead make the area into a gradually more acceptable climate for growth." He looks around to all the faces. "Within a short time, we can get nearly 80 percent production from the entire planet's land masses." Bart, bored, takes out a slingshot, and starts to fiddle with it. The woman in green inclines her head slightly downward as the invention is unveiled, taking a long drag on the slender cigarette holder balanced in her hand. The smoke trails from both cigarette and mouth, the scent wafting out around her, its fingers lingering around those nearby. It smells more of spice than of good old American tobacco. She makes no sound, not other motion as the men around her make like four pillars around a temple goddess. As she raises her head once more, there is a flash of her eyes, and her bemused grin widens into a darker kind of smile. More scattered excited comments "...can't be serious." "I know Luthor...he could do it" "No more dust bowls..." Bart takes a rubber band from his other pocket and whispers to the Kid, "If he's 'arf as swell as 'e puts out, why'n't he take that thing to the Dust Bowl, 'stead of messin' the poor camels?" <> A few more flash photographs. Olsen nudges Vale with his elbow. "Saaay...thing this is the straight dope...think he could do this?" Vale shrugs, about to say something. "I....oh....my..." From the main stage, Monaghan enters, stage left. Three hulking goons are behiund him, three more appear on the right of the stage. Monaghan smiles and squeezes off a burst from his tommy-gun intot he ceiling. "Incredible!" the Boy of Tomorrow says, quickly, nudging the elderly man next to him. "Imagine what that could do in a time of war? The production rates could triple!" He lifts his free hand to his chin, slowly rubbing it. Hal Jordan looks at Mae "Easy sweetheart. I was just coming bye to return that ring'o yours." He glances around some and lowers his voice "About the money..." and then his head snaps up as the gunfire goes off. Boy of Tomorrow whispers "Err - Dust Bowl? I don't think the camels will mind, really. They can always move." The two men seated behind the podium on the stage jerk around at the sound of the burp gun. "Oh! No!" Senator Lord peeps. He about falls out of his chair. Security guards scatter, most of them have no idea what to do. A few try to take care of the guests, and a couple charge the stage, armed with small revolvers. Bart jumps to his feet at the sound of gunfire. "Gee willikers!" From the main stage, Oblivious to the individuals behind him, Luthor continues his speach. Or at least, attempts to. "This device can be the answer," he begins, "to all of the..." And then his words are lost in the din of the gunfire, and he twists around for a brief moment before ducking. The front rows of reporters fall back a few steps, some dropping cameras and notepads. This 'cushy assignment' just went haywire. From the main stage, Monaghan lowers the gun so it points at the crowd and saunters over to the front of the stage calmly, his boots thudding loudly on the stage. Behind him, the goons close around LEx. "Okay, folks," he says, "Stay cool an' noone gets hurt too bad." <> From the main stage, Monaghan says "Go nuts, an' we'll kill youse all." Mae Kent blinks as gunfire goes off and shouts to Hal above the noise, "You know this is all -your- fault!" she takes a moment to glare at him while slowly reaching her hand into her bag . . Senator Lord and the professor type on the stage hold up their hands, looking flabbergasted. "What's the meaning of this?!" Lord shouts at Monaghan. Doctor Hemmingway automatically ducks at the sound of gunfire, but the Boy of Tomorrow does the opposite - he straightens up in his seat, his hands resting on the back of the chair in front of him. He cranes forward for a better look at the hijackers, lips slipping open - that moment where your breathing is no longer involuntary, where you're aware of every inhalation and exhalation. The security guards, who don't get paid enough to confront a guy like Managhan do as he says. Meanwhile the ones in the back radio for the /real/ police. The society woman seated in front of Dr. Hemmingway, the Kid, and Bart, well...she faints dead away. Hal Jordan pushes Mae's head down as he watches the goons strutin around on the stage "Ya ya ya. Shut that kisser of yours and keep your head down." His own hands crawl into his flight jacket and find the peice of iron they were searching for. From the main stage, One of the big gentlemen accompanying Monaghan steps up behind Lex and swings the butt of his pistol down at Lex's head. From the main stage, Monaghan'swings the gun this way and that. "Pow. Pow." he says softly, grinning. "Powpowpow." From the main stage, A rather panicked expression crosses the formerly broadly grinning inventor, and then he goes down, smacked by the gun, and collapses into a pile on the floor. Mae Kent ducks down and pulls her empty hand out of her bag in order to shove Hal's hand away from her, she holds out her palm after she reaches the ground and whispers, "Where's the ring." Red-faced, mind reeling, Senator Maxwell Lord gets a sinking feeling. "You can't get away with this...you...you...ruffians! The police in every state across this nation will find you...and...and..." He looks hopelessly around at the panicked audience. <> From the main stage, Two of the thugs grab LEx's unconscious body, one grabbing his arms the other his feet. They proceed to drag him off the stage while the other thugs cover them. Jimmy Olsen is bustled to one side as Dr. Light dives over the chairs, covering his head. "Whatchit you crazy...quick, Olsen, think like a professional..." He jerks the camera in his hands around, trying to get it ready to catch a shot of the criminal element thats just made its rather loud entrance. Hal Jordan mutters at Mae "That's always the beef with ya aint it. I told you I wasn't ready for the ol' ball and chain. I like my life the way it is. That.. and yer cookin stinks" From the main stage, Monaghan squeezes off another burst into the ceiling. "Thanks, folks. You been swell." he says as the gentsand Luthor exit, stage left, Tommy backing after them. Most of the security guards continue to just try to calm people. Finally police sirens can be heard far off in the distance. From the main stage, Some of Monaghan's bunch cart the big gizmo out after them, smiling leeringly. Mae Kent smacks Hal with the back of the hand she was holding out, "No, -my- ring." She says in an very annoyed tone, but still in a whisper. From the main stage, Monaghan raies the gunhigh in his right hand, hefting it like it's a pistol. He takes a bow, smiling mockingly, and then swirls about, disappearing of the stage. "Somebody...stop them!" "You stop them, mister...I don't wanna get plugged fulla lead..." "Oh my gracious me!" Hal Jordan faces snaps to the side before a wry smirk plays across it. "I knew you still loved me" and with that he pulls out a small ring and tosses it to Mae "Now sit tight, if I can stop those mugs I'll hit paydirt" Doctor Hemmingway peeks from behind a small chair, before glancing up at the Boy of Tomorrow. As if anticipating the older man's question, the Kid answers. "Yeah, you can come up now." He glances back at the stage, smacking his hand onto his forehead. "Bother," he mutters. Mae Kent quickly shoves the ring onto her finger and grabs her pistol from her bag, "Some things never change, still about money, isn't it Hal." she whispers as she tries to to follow him, "You jinxed this whole thing by taking my ring." She says softly. Bart looks down the aisle, then back up at the Kid. "Dunno what -you're- gonna do, mister, but I'm gonna go see what's goin' on!" Most of the crowd seems to be waffling between panic and action. They seem to be choosing the former. Bart takes his wooden sword off his belt and starts to rush off into the madding crowd. Police burst into the room, a bit too late. Hal Jordan starts trying to shove his way towards the stage and against the masses of dumb and scared people trying to make it outa this nightmare in one piece. He snaps back at Mae as he fights his way along "Listen Doll, I got my own ring now. This is the best thing t'happen to me all week" Boy of Tomorrow frowns, stretching out his arm and placing his hand squarely on Bart's shoulder. "You're not going anywhere," he says in a slow voice, still facing front. "Not wihout thinking this over first. And put that sword away, kid, you could poke somebody's eye out with that." Bart grumbles, being pulled up short. "Awww..." <> The woman in green at the back of the room seems unruffled by this whole tragic turn, and makes silent, slight gesture with her cigarette to her escort. They reach as one to lift their beautiful burden, and turn, carrying her out, moving through the panicking crowd like a snake through grass, untroubled. They head toward a side fire exit, so far unused by the panicked majority. Her smile is wide, and her final sound before disappearing utterly is a short shrill laugh, and then she is gone. Bart grimaces, but does as he's told. "You sound like the headmistress." Mae Kent shoves her way right behind Hal and shakes her head as she examines his jade trinket, "I knew there was a reason you were returning mine. Who'd you steal -that- one from?" She says louder. Hal Jordan nears the the stage area and smacks a few reporters around to get through "Won it in a poker game. Bluffed the pants off some arab guy named Abin Sur. Figured that was the start of my lucky streak" "I'm no headmistress," the Boy of Tomorrow says softly, again. Looking to Doctor Hemmingway for support, if not for outright confidence, he gestures towards the wings of the theate. The doctor shakes his head, and the Boy of Tomorrow sighs softly, exhaling like a slowly deflating hot air balloon. "Blast it," he says out of frustration, before glancing at the young boy next to him. "Err - what was I saying?" Mae Kent mutter under her breath, referring to his so called 'luck', "So that's what you call cheating." The police help get the crowd out of the theater safely. The also talk to the local guards about the recent occurence, police are after the badguys, but mostlikely won't luck out. Hal Jordan heys "Listen sister, I won it fair and square!" and finally gets out of the crowd and takes off Mae Kent shoves past the crowd right after Hal and sprints after him, "Yeah, just like my ring, Hal?" she questions sarcastically. Bart tugs at the Kid's jacket. "Come -on-! He's getting -away-!" He dashes off, rushing headlong into trouble. Bart pops out the door, looking around gleefully, trying to spot the getaway vehicle. A few students point towards the street. "Holy moses! Didja see that!" Hal Jordan races to his car "C'mon. We can still catch'em" and hurries into the Cord. Mae Kent sprints out the door after Hal, holding a pistol in her hand. "Looks like Bugsy Malone!" A bystander shouts. "Nah...weren't him...wonder who the fella was who was chasin' 'em..." Mae Kent practically leaps over the door into Hal's char. A few of her students just stare at her, amazed that she's capable of any action or emotion of this magnitude. Bart rushes to the back of one of the outbuildings, looking for a dolly with an orange crate on it...he finds one, and runs back with it, praying Hal hasn't left yet. Boy of Tomorrow sprints out of the auditorium like a locomotive out of hell, bursting onto the scene with an inquisitive look in every direction. Bart grabs the back bumper, and crouches on the small wheeled dolly, 'hitching' a ride to where the action is. People point down the street, talking excitedly about the cars that just took off. "Four of 'em..." "Five, I says..." From inside the Cord 810, Hal Jordan pulls Mae the rest of the way in "Hold on." And then shifts into 1st before flooring the gas From inside the Cord 810, Mae Kent starts to say something, probably about the car before she's silenced as she's jerked back by the sudden acceleration. Behind the Boy of Tomorrow, the Doctor finally huffs out the auditorium, pausing to catch his breath. Leaning against the wall to the lecture hall, he looks up in time to see the Boy of Tomorrow running up to him. "I need the keys to the car!" the young hero shouts, pointing in the direction of the road. Bart wisely lets go before the thing goes too fast. Right! This is complicated... From the outside, Bruce Wayne curses as the Caddy makes a quick turn. He slams on his brakes, almost crashing through a fruit stand. Boy of Tomorrow examines the gauges closely. From the outside, From within the Caddy, Tommy looks across at Louie. "Yeesh, man. A bit of respect. I got a reputation to uphold, an' my boys carryin' on like rednecks ain't what it needs." The Caddy veers off to the left, heading for the back streets. From the outside, The Zephyr speeds down a side street adjacent to the Cord and the Pontiac. A tommy-gun pops out of a window. "Jumpin' jehosaphat...got more folks tailing da boss...let 'em have it!" From the outside, From inside the Cord 810, Hal Jordan dodges the traffic, and sometimes it's the oncoming traffic as he swerves like a madman after the Caddi that's got somewhere else to be "Aww hush her trap. We're still alive" Boy of Tomorrow careens through the street, narrowly missing women, men, children and the elderly alike. The driver, barely at the physical age of seventeen, does his damn best to hold the car steady on the trail of the Cadillac. From the outside, The chatter of machinegun fire strafes a shop window, and heads towards the Cord 810's side. From the outside, From inside the Cord 810, Mae Kent mumbles a curse as a gun pops out of the Zephyr, "Keep driving!" She yells as she tries to get a few good shots in with her pistol at the occupants of the Zephyr. From the outside, From inside the Ford "V8", Bruce Wayne swerves, his sedan crossing into the path of the oncoming Pontiac. Glancing over his shoulder, he winces, and sees a disaster imminent... Bart yells (actually from the Pontiac's bumper), "Hey!" He gulps some wind and ducks his head down again, "Hey, MISTER! Lookout for the tommy!" (To the Kid) From the outside, From inside the Cord 810, Hal Jordan turns hard as part of his car is shot up "Whatya think I _am_ doin, Sister!" His shifts it into high gear as tires squeel into a turn down a backstreet. From the outside, From inside the Lincoln Zephyr, Bullets strafe the avenues...Mae's gunplay puts a slug in the shoulder of one of the occupants of the Zephyr. The Lincoln swerves, then tries to slam into the Cord sidelong. Boy of Tomorrow steels himself at the sound of the guns, but doesn't have such luck with the oncoming Ford V8. Unable to duck _this_ sort of attack, he collides into the side of the vehicle with the force of a natural disaster, metal scraping on metal like bone scraping on bone. The noise, to those nearby, could be unbearable. Bart notes it's prolley a GOOD thing he doesn't know about the V8. Bart knows now. From the outside, From inside the Ford "V8", Bruce Wayne is jerked sideways, bumping his head on the dashboard. He lets out a low curse, and fumbles out of the side of the car as the engine lets out a hiss of steam. From the outside, From inside the Cord 810, Hal Jordan gets shoved sidelong halfway into his turn and the car does a complete spin 360 around, sending the occupants on Mr.Jordans Wild Ride. Boy of Tomorrow ends up spinning nearly ninety degrees before slamming into a fire hydrant, the Pontiac beyond repair and nearly unrecognizable. "Damn!" he shouts, pounding the steering wheel and hopping out of the now-mangled front side door. Bart, miraculously, is unharmed. He somehow ended up on the -front- hood of the Pontiac, however crumpled it might be. Bruce Wayne scowls, pointing at the Kid and Bart. "What in the blazes were you thinking?!" He eyes his car, slamming his fedora low over his face. "Lookit that! Its Ruined!" Bart just concentrates on catching his breath and making his heart rate approach something less than the speed of sound. Bruce Wayne seethes, kicking the tire of his car. "There goes this case...real good, kid...real good." He growls, and checks the hood of his machine. Boy of Tomorrow jerks a thumb at his own chest. "What was _I_ doing?" he cries out, before pointing down the road, as if at an invisible spector. "I was chasing a tommy-gun wielding crook, though it seems like you're not against standing in the way of justice, either." Boy of Tomorrow sighs softly, letting his hand slam down on the hood of the now-totalled Pontiac. "The doctor's going to throttle me," he acknowledges softly, before thumping his free palm against his forehead. "Yeah, real futuristic, Boy." Bart pants a little more, then sits up on the Kid's hood. He glares at Bruce. "And *I* was riding a dolly on the back fender. You coulda got me killed, makin' him slam on his brakes like that." Bruce Wayne smirks at the Kid, shaking his head. "Aw, great...an IDEALIST. Peachy." He opens the door to his car again, and checks the ignition. "You think your wheels can still get some motivation, kid...you and I might have a common interest in gettin' after the caddy." Boy of Tomorrow slides his hands into his jacket pockets, assuming a position both cocky and curious. "And why should I trust you, mister? How do I know you're not just after a ride?" Bruce Wayne jerks a thumb over his shoulder, taking the nickle-plated .38 from his glove compartment. "Cause I'm gettin' paid to keep an eye on Dr Lex Luthor, thats why, buster. So, you gonna play ball, or are we both gonna sit here crackin' wise." Bart notes, "'Course, he'd also have to be nutty to just want a -ride-, if yer gonna be chasin' bad guys. An' he's got a gun." "If you can shoot that thing as good's you shoot your mouth, mister, you got a deal. Get in," the Boy of Tomorrow says, giving the car a slight kick. "And you, kid, get in - otherwise you'll be riding my tail, and I don't wanna be responsible for some kid splattered on the paved street. Let's go." Bruce Wayne stuffs the gun into his shoulder holster under the jacket. He flicks the brim of his fedora up. "How about if I could point out a shortcut..." Bruce Wayne slides in, pointing to the busy main streets. "Take Swan and 3rd...I think I got a hunch where these two-bit torpedos are headed." Bart grins, and hogs the whole leather-cushioned back seat (hopefully there IS one).. Bruce Wayne points towards a sidestreet as you angle through traffic. "Hang a right here, kid...if you think you can make it...." Bruce Wayne mutters "...Monaghan...wonder what's his score in a job on Luthor..." to himself, watching the swerving traffic outside. Boy of Tomorrow swings a tight right, the wheels screeching their argument. The Kid ignores the noise as he turns, saying, "I can make it, no sweat off my brow." Bruce Wayne glances at Bart, offhandedly. "Enjoying yourself, junior?" From the outside, A delivery truck blares its horn as the Boy of Tommorow's deft driving skills find a gap in one way traffic, and head towards the Metropolis Docks. Bart grins at Bruce. "Sure thing, mister!" Bruce Wayne does a slight double-take at Bart. "Good...glad to hear it." He eyes the Kid. "This your scrappy kid brother, pal?" Boy of Tomorrow wrinkles his nose as he drives in. "Somethin' smells fishy here," he puns, before glancing at Wayne. "You kiddin' me? I don't know him from Adam. You got a name?" he says, addressing Bart with that final comment. Bart nodnods, "'S Bart. What's yours?" Bruce Wayne motions to a place behind a row of cannisters. "Easy, kid. These customers play rough, so we may not want 'em to see us." "They call me the Boy of Tomorrow," he says, slowly, narrowing his eyes at Wayne's words. "Right." He manuvers the car into the hiding space Wayne gestured towards, careful to do so without making much of a noise. Boy of Tomorrow turns the key. From the outside, the Caddy skids to a half and the doors burst open. Monaghan emerges, tommygun in hand, and then so do his goons: two holding Lex, two with the LExatron, two covering their butts. Bart sits back, putting his hands behind his head. "Kinda like they call the Barber of Seville?" Bruce Wayne smirks to himself, and draws the .38 from his shoulder rig. "Yeah, only he sings off key. C'mon. Think I see our bunch." He points to Bart. "And you...sit tight, and keep quiet." From the outside, Monaghan glances around easily. "Okay, boys, load 'im up." he says, "I'll bring up the rear." Bart sighs, and sits so's one hand is out of sight. "Okay, mister." Yep, his fingers are definitely crossed. Bruce Wayne thinks . o O (Good thing I'm getting hourly wages...) From the outside, Bruce Wayne flattens against the back of a cannister, peering across the foggy docks. From the outside, Monaghan rests the gun on the roof of the car as the gents haul their treausre into the steamer. Tommy fishes out a cigarette, lights up. Bart peers out the side window, watching. From the outside, A low moan from a foghorn echoes across the dimly lit piers. From the outside, Monaghan moves away from the car, his gun at his side. He glances over his shoulder. "C'mon, boys... put yer backs into it!" From the outside, Boy of Tomorrow crawls out of the Pontiac. Although he stands tall and straight, his space behind a large yellow barrell gives him both a good vantage point as well as a strong hiding space. His fingertips touch the barrells gently, his breath slowing down as he struggles to listen. From the outside, Bruce Wayne mutters out of the side of his mouth to the Kid. "So...you got a real name, brother?" He eyes Tommy and his gun-toting associates with a leery expression. From the outside, Monaghan exhales a stream of smoke and taps away the ash from his cig, calmly staring out ino the fog. From the outside, "That _is_ my real name," the Boy of Tomorrow says in a hushed voice, a slight sneer growing on his face as he watches the goons. "Given to me by the good doctor. It's a looooong story, Jack. What about you?" From the outside, Bruce Wayne watches, frowning tightly. "Me? Wayne. Private eye." He watches the men board the steamer, and squints his eyes, trying to make out the letters on the hull. From the outside, Monaghan Cocks his head, listening for sirens or squealing rubber... but all he hears is the water lapping at the side of the pier. He looks up the gangplank and sees his men disappear inside with the Lexatron. Tommy takes a last puff and then flicks away the butt of his cigarette, turning around and making his way up into the steamer. From the outside, Monaghan heads up a gangplank to the steamer. Bart slips out the car door and sneaks after Tommy. From the outside, Bruce Wayne points at the fading form of Tommy. "That'd be Thomas Monaghan." Metropolis -- The Docks(#1297RCF) The docks of Metropolis are a somewhat quiet place. More so at night. An inoperative loading dock sits unused near the end of the boardwalk, and in the distance, the now-closed Queen Ironworks sits like some silent, brooding giant in the dimness and scant fog. Spots of yellow light splotch the sidewalks and piers, cast from overhanging metal electrical lamps. The occasional sound of a dinghy bell or a foghorn drifts over the sound of the lapping water. The S.S. Quarac(#1306RCF) This rusty boat has seen better days. A lot of better days. Grime and barnacles can be seen alongside of the bits of hull above the water, and a few windows have been broken out. The ladderwell leading from the top deck to the lower deck is in ruin, and the bridge looks like its little more than the original room with spaces for some of the consoles and controls. A dark stairwell leads below decks. Bart hears someone else coming, and ducks behind a crate. Bruce Wayne walks up the gangplank, gun waving ahead of him. He peers through the foggy and rusted haze, shaking his head. "Crazy kid is going to get himself or me put on ice." He walks slowly down the deck, half-expecting gunsels to pop out of nowhere. Boy of Tomorrow runs aboard, slipping through the door like a worm burrowing into an apple. His boots make far too much noise on the floor, the lower fourth of his form nearly enveloped by steam. "Where'd he run off to?" Looking out from under the low-slung brim of his hat, Bruce motions to the Boy of Tommorow. "You know what the dingus is that Monaghan was so eager to get his hands on? Something of Luthor's?" "You weren't there?" the Kid asks, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. "He called it the Lexagon. Said it was gonna bring water to the desert, feed the hungry - sounded like a bit of hot air to me, you know, but my prof's a big fan, so I went along with it." Bart almost pipes up, 'Lexatron', but remembers he's hiding. Bruce Wayne shakes his head. "The whole thing's sillier than a ocopuses's pajamas, if you ask me. All I know is I gotta keep an eye on this Luthor fella. That, or I default on my rent." Bruce Wayne jerks his gun in Bart's direction. "Alright...step on out, pal." Boy of Tomorrow balls his left hand into a tight fist, his right hand placed on a nearby rail. Bracing himself for a brawl, he squares his legs and waits to see who emerges. Bart steps out and sighs. "Gee -whiz-." He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "How'd you know I was there?" Bruce Wayne relaxes, tipping back his hat with his revolver. "You had us scared there, kid...running up here...you best run back down that gangplank." Boy of Tomorrow eases up, letting his fist unfurl into a loose position again. "Kid, if I had _half_ a mind, I'd drag you back myself - now _get_, 'fore we're got!" Bart shakes his head! "No, please! Don't make me...I've got here already, this far," he hisses, "An' I wanna see it to the end! I want a piece a' the action!" He adds, almost as an afterthought, "'Sides, no one'll miss me if I...if I don't show up tomorrow morning." Bruce Wayne gives a half-frown, glancing at the Boy of Tommorow. He shakes his head. "Guess he doesn't speak 'amscray', brother." Bart crosses his arms and stands there, a resolute and slightly ridiculous figure. Boy of Tomorrow twists his oddly-shaped body, somehow managing to stand straight and yet face Bart at the same time. "Don't screw around then, right, kid? You could get yourself killed, and I don't mean like cobs and robbers. Got me?" "Yessir!" says Bart. The little dip looks excited, then stifles it, and somehow manages to look almost businesslike. Almost. Bruce Wayne eyes the stairwell. "You hear something down there? Voices..." He gives a warning glance at Bart, as if saying 'hang back', and cocks the hammer back on his revolver. Bart nods.. Bruce Wayne turns to face the landing. "I get the feeling I'm gonna regret taking this case..." He walks slowly down, peering through the grimy dark. Boy of Tomorrow bends his knees slightly as he walks forward, as if preparing to leep forward as he walks. Bart sneaks down behind them silently, staying in the stairwell. Bruce Wayne glances around, relaxing the hammer back on his gun. "Hmmm...must've been hearing things." He leans against a crate. "You figure they took to another hallway?" Boy of Tomorrow immediately flattens against the wall as he enters the room, tipping his right shoulder higher than his left and ducking a bit. Old habits die hard. "They must've - they wouldn't've left yet." Bruce Wayne nods absently. "Guess so." He pauses, glancing at a wet footprint by his toe. "Wait a second..." "I'm waiting - you see something?" He leans forward a bit, squinting in the near-dim light. Boy of Tomorrow does these things. Bruce Wayne points to the footprint. "Yeah...looks like someone with nice expensive loafers has been down here real recently...may still be around..." He walks further in, eyes narrowing. "Don't lose your cool, though," the Boy of Tomorrow says in a quick voice, "they might know we're here." Bart hears something nearby. A scratching sound, maybe. Hard to tell. Its coming from under the stairs... Bruce Wayne nods, slowly. "I'm definitely regretting taking this case..." He kneels, and feels around the floor. "Hmm...more footprints...then nothing." Bart slips under the stairs looking for the sound... Scratching? No...ticking. Yes, definitely. Ticking. A wad of red sticks of dynamite are strapped nearby. A timer is on its last seconds... Boy of Tomorrow loosens his stand, rising gently and glancing to either side. "So we got three options. Either this goon took off his shoes, or dissapeared into thin air," he speaks as if sure of the answer, "we're missing some hidden door." The second hand ticks towards 12. Bart yelps and comes barrelling out, shoving at Bruce and the Kid, up the stairs. "A bomb! A BOMB! RUN!" KWABOOOOOOOM! The S. S. Quarac is splintered into a million fragments...and burns away at its dock, a smoking pile of metal and cinders... The Pulp Master says "There's no way our heroes could have escaped...or is there...? Find out, in the next thrilling chapter of...." The Cataclysm Machine! [Public] Uberkid Boy of Tomorrow says, "_Damn_ we're good."