nexus_sages | Super what now?

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Super what now?

There's nothing Hughes loves more than his family.

There's nothing Hughes loves more than anything other than his family than information.

The Nexus was a strange cross-section of a universe that the Intelligence officer simply didn't understand. He was doing his best to accommodate all of the strange goings on in his mind by learning about and understanding them a little at a time.

The fact that there was a portal to and from the Nexus in his world was growing on him. The grand scale of technology beyond what was available in his world was daunting, but didn't come up as much since he avoided most of the shops in the Forum. And some of the characters that had appeared in the Nexus? Well, if they were human, it was understandable. Weird, but understandable. Everything else? Well... he was just going to have to take some more time for everything else.

He liked being in the Forum, picking up bits and pieces as he simply listened. That's how he got onto this whole thing about some people being "better" than others, in some rather unscientific sounding ways. He'd spent a while trying to glean more information about it and failed quite spectacularly. People simply accepted that's the way things were. Not Maes Hughes. He needs to know, and if listening isn't enough, then, well... Sometimes, it's just easier to reach out and gather information the old fashioned way - by asking.

"There's been a lot of talk in the forum lately about super heroes and people doing super human things. It's all a little too vague for my taste. If I don't know how to define something, I can't know it when I see it. So, my question to you is this: How do you define the term 'super hero?' Or, rather, what makes a person a 'super hero?'"

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Here, Colonel Hughes, have a vintage Avenger, slightly damaged. He's even got his bow, today, and a few bundles of arrows, which he's shooting one at a time at a target he chose at random some distance away. It's a really bad day to be that street sign.

"We've got super heroes where I'm from. Mostly, it comes down to two things: you can do something most folks can't, and you help people with it." Twang.

His shot grouping is ridiculously tight for two hundred yards. He hasn't had one fall outside the "O" of "LOITERING" yet.

Clint gets a raised eyebrow of appreciation as Hughes watches him terrorize the street sign. He's sure the sign had it coming anyway.

"It requires both parts, though, yes? What happens if you have only one of the two?"

Hughes looks to offer a hand to Clint for shaking, but quickly thinks better of it. He's enjoying watching the target practice a little too much. "Maes Hughes, by the way. I take it you're the... Avenger I've heard about? Clint... if I recall correctly." Don't worry - he's not stalking you Clint. He's just really good at listening.

"Well, if you're not helping people," twang, "you're not much of a hero, right? But it's not like you hafta have laser eyes or robot pants or whatever." Twang, Robin Hood shot (doubters can call it the law of averages, as there's not much space in the O that's not already arrow-occupied). "And hey, you do anything long enough, you'll get good at it, right?" Twang.

"Yeah, Clint Barton, nice to meet you. You've heard of me?"

"Point taken," Hughes concedes. Super-human abilities plus selfishness would be a combination that wouldn't lead to much hero-like behavior. "Would you consider the fastest reader on the planet a super hero, then? Or just super?" He's not trying to be smart, he's really just trying to get a handle on all of this.

"Yes." A smirk makes its way across his face. "The people of the Nexus are quite chatty about some of the more fantastical things they see and hear."

"Depends. Are they, like, analyzing data, putting together lots of stuff to figure out the big picture and catch bad guys? Or are they just reading Robert Jordan in an afternoon?"

He picks up a different arrow, one with an odd cylinder of some kind, firing it to one side at an upward angle; the cylinder expands into an off-center loop, pulling the arrow into a wide, curving path.

"And they talk about me?" He puts another arrow into the sign, and catches the boomerang arrow as it comes back. And he really doesn't see what's remarkable about that.

"I was just asking in general, but I suppose your questions answer mine - it depends on the context in which they use their abilities." He pauses for a moment, his hand resting on his chin. "Would that make anyone who is above average and trying to catch bad guys a super hero? Or is there some special qualifier?"

Wow, that... that thing with the boomerang arrow. Both of Hughes' eyebrows go high onto his forehead as he watches that one. Clint may not see what's so impressive about it, but Hughes is loving it. It's so strange to see someone from a universe with better technology than his using what must be considered by many places an obsolete weapon so well.

"Those tricks you do with your arrows," Hughes points to the sign and then to the boomerang arrow in his hand, "that gets a lot of people talking. It's not something people see every day and it gets a lot more attention than you seem to realize."

"Pretty much. I mean, there's registration now, but for a long time it was just whoever went out and did it. Made for some confusion about which side people were on, too. Newspapers talk about some guy in a mask, bein' all spooky around places where crimes happened, someone else in a mask figures that guy must be a crook, and goes out to try to bring him in. Oops! Turns out he was hangin' around crime scenes because he was looking for clues. Big misunderstanding." He sighs. "It happens."

Clint flashes a grin--once a showman, always a showman, and it's good to have an audience. "Mostly I just do target practice, here. I haven't really brought the trick arrows. 'Cept for the boomerang arrow, here."

This is a lot for poor Hughes to take in. "I can see how the registration would be useful to avoid the confusion, but who registers? Everyone with abilities? And, if that's true, then who decides which of the people registered get the 'super hero' title? Surely they can't all get it."

"Trick arrows?" Hughes all but grins with excitement. "What exactly does that entail?"

"Well, registration came around because some people who were out there heroing kinda screwed up, got some innocent people killed. So now, everyone with powers is supposed to get registered, get some basic training so they don't zap anybody or whatnot, and if they wanna do some good after that? Nothin' stoppin' 'em."

Clint grins. He's proud of the trick arrows he's come up with. "Just what it sounds like: arrows that do tricks. Bola arrows that tangle up people's legs, acid arrows that melt stuff, sonic arrows that're really friggin' loud. I'm gonna let you guess what the exploding arrow does."

"If, after their training is complete, someone decides they want to do good in the world, is that when they receive the super hero title? Or is that still a subjective thing?" Hughes feels like he could write a book on all of this when he gets home. He's almost tempted, too. Almost. But writing a book sounds a hell of a lot like paperwork, which means there's no chance of it happening.

"I take it they're all as effective as your boomerang arrow does? I mean, I could just take your word for it, but perhaps a demonstration might be in order..." Can Clint tell Hughes feels a bit like a kid at a carnival? The big grin and glinting eyes don't give it away, do they?

"Eh, little bit'a both," Clint admits, shrugging. And firing another arrow, because the man can not sit still. "I mean, you join a team or put on a costume or whatever, sure, the news'll call you a superhero, but you kinda get the hero part on credit. Gotta earn it." Or the news calls you a villain, and you've got to live that down, that happens too. But Hughes didn't ask about villains. "Oh, yeah, okay, that's something: superheroes usually have some kinda costume, a codename, keep their identities sorta private. So, y'know, gangsters don't go after their family or something."

Clint's grin widens again. "Y'know, I'd love to show 'em off sometime, but like I said, the boomerang's the only trick arrow I've got with me right now. I could get some others, but it'd be a few minutes."

The constant arrow shooting is actually rather soothing to Hughes. He won't mention as such, but the inability to sit still doesn't bother him in the least. "Code names and costumes." Code names he gets. He works with alchemists, after all, and they have some fantastic code names: Fullmetal, Flame, Strong Arm, Iron Blood. But costumes? "What kind of costumes are we talking about?"

"I don't think the wife would appreciate if I stayed too late in the Nexus today, but I could plan a special trip back sometime..." Because, really, how could he possibly say no to the chance to see more of Clint's tricks?

The rhythmic shooting continues. "Well, typically a mask, at least. Y'know, so your face doesn't show up in the paper. Other than that, well... okay, like Spider-Man's got these red-and-blue tights with spider-web-lines all over 'em. Or Captain America--America's the country I'm from, and Cap started out with the Army in World War II--he's got the colors of the flag, a star on his chest... hang on, lemme get my phone."

Putting down the bow, he digs out a Starkphone and coaxes it into showing an Avengers group photo. "That's him in front, with the A on his head."

All these place and events. Hughes is beginning to get that same "insignificant" feeling he gets when around alchemists back home. Does the Nexus have a library? If not, Hughes is going to have to start offering favors in return for some reading material. He's got a lot of catching up to do that he didn't even know about until now.

Hughes gives a nod when he takes a look at the picture, but intrigued and amused at the same time. "Some of those are quite... conspicuous." Is that an insult? Even Hughes isn't sure. "Does the guy in the front always take the time to paint himself green before he goes out to be a super hero?"

"That's not paint. He turns green. Gets huge, too. He's a normal guy, when he's not the Hulk. That's his power." He thinks about it for a minute, and adds, "I guess conspicuous is part of the point. Let people know who the good guys are."

Hughes does a double take of the picture at that comment.

"Wait, you mean to say he goes from being like you and me to that?" He points to the Hulk in the picture. "How is something like that even possible?"

This really is a lot to take in. "Is that why you add the purple? For some conspicuous flair that people will remember? I'd think the whole 'I use a bow' thing would be enough."

Edited 2015-09-01 19:16 (UTC)

"There was an accident, with a gamma bomb. Funky radiation, he was in it. Now, he gets mad, he turns green. Madder he gets, stronger he gets." Clint lives in that world, so it's normal-ish to him.

"Pretty much, yeah. I was a circus performer, before I was a hero, so I kinda brought some of the look over from that. And, y'know? From a hundred feet away, it's hard to see who's got a bow, but you can spot the purple guy for sure."

Edited 2015-09-01 20:16 (UTC)

"I'm afraid I don't fully understand all of that, but the 'accident' part I do understand. Hopefully he doesn't get mad too often?" Lab accidents are not fun. Lab accidents involving alchemy and experiments on prisoners, even less so. Hughes tries not to think about all of that as Clint continues.

"You'd think the arrows flying by would be enough." He chuckles. "Has it always been purple for you? Or have there been other, more outlandish costumes in the past?"

Edited 2015-09-01 20:19 (UTC)

"Well, y'know, he tries not to. Doesn't always get to decide whether he gets mad, though."

"Hey, spot the arrow in motion in the middle of an earthquake in a big city, and I'll give you a cookie."

"I'm assuming he's got some tricks to keep control, though? Something to help keep him from going all green strong-man on unsuspecting people?"

Hughes chuckles. "You're talking to a man who makes his living by finding a needle in a haystack." He grins, his eyes full of mischief. "Don't make a bet you're not willing to follow up on."

"He does what he can, yeah. It's hard for him, though--the Hulk wasn't always seen as a hero, and trying not to get angry about anything while you're on the run from the US Army and other folks who want you either dead or workin' for them? Not easy."

Clint grins in answer to Maes' chuckle. "A cookie, I'm willing to wager."

"Did the registration make it better or worse for him? I could see it going either way, considering he wants to hide away from the world."

Hughes offers a hand with a grin. "You give me an earthquake and an arrow, and I'll find it in motion. If not, I'll bring you one of my wife's pies."

"He was, uh... off-planet, when it happened. And pretty mad about other stuff, when he got back. It's going better for him, now, though. The army doesn't chase him, anymore, and he gets to do science when he's not out being the Hulk."

Clint laughs, shaking the offered hand. "Oh, what? I have to bring the earthquake? Your wife's pies better be worth it!"

Hughes is going to ignore the off-planet thing. That's still beyond his comprehension. "Glad to hear it's working out."

"Hey, you're the one who mentioned the earthquake. You want me to do it, you have to bring it." He laughs as he shakes Clint's hand, letting go when the laughter becomes a little too much. "And trust me, the pie will be worth it. I promise, I won't even take a bite of it now that I promised the whole thing to you."

Clint grins. "Would, uh, some other kind'a crisis work? Alien invasion, maybe? Big earthquakes aren't that common. Harder to predict, too."

Super what now?

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There's a Sokka joke to be made about that link...

Maybe. We'll have to come back to it.

This is why we're friends now.

Cheers, then, and many happy returns.

No returns necessary when it comes to my bread-senpai. ;)

Lo, I wear the Bagel Crown, and sit the Crusty Throne.

If you make them, I'm sure they will both be perfect bread-y specimens.

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