Supermaxx

Pariah Online III

HACKING MAINFRAME...................

(GAMER VOICE) I'M IN

@HokumPocus

w e l c o m e

Pariah Online III

ITS



HAPPENING

What do you want out of the PW?

@Euphonium

mostly unimportant number crunching

If you really wanna try number crunching from vague bits of lore, we could also get more specific- let's ignore the rest of known space and look exclusively at the Galactic Republic on the eve of the Clone Wars. The Star Wars Rules Compendium makes mention of that the population of untrained force-sensitives is somewhere around 10 times that of trained force-sensitives. The Jedi order is at approximately 10,000 strong on the eve of the Cone Wars, which would mean about 100,000 force-users. Say 99.99% don't come up with the exceptionally basic idea to combine a lightsaber and a blaster while also managing to combine them, we still have ten different people running around with them. In the Republic alone, excluding the rest of the population of known space, the Unknown regions and Wild space. This is also at a time when the republic was in decline and down to something around 1.2 million member worlds when they previously had control of nearly 50 million populated systems.

Of course, you are completely missing the forest, being far too busy headbutting the trees. The main thing here is that a person took two very common pieces of technology from the time period (lightsabers and blasters) and said they wanted a single tool to be able to function as both, while being a little shittier than either individually. Basically, they want a spork. This is in a time period where the Republic is building gravity cannons that can grab asteroids and hurl them into planets and people take issue with a fucking spork. Is it goofy? Sure. Is it game-breaking? Not even a little. Is it innocuous and 100% reasonable to do? Yep.

Aaaaat any rate...

The main problem I see with this bit, @Lord Wraith: "Just as silly as retracting interest over something so small." Is that I don't really see that as being the scenario. Basically, if it really were just: "I want to use a spork and I refuse to play in any game that won't let my character use a spork", then that would be silly and unreasonable. I don't really see that as being the case here.

I see it more like someone going:
"I wanna use a spork"

Then getting a response of:
"such eating utensils are not relevant or even seen as concepts"

Followed up with s'more nonsense like:
"the odds of anyone having such a specific variant of their primary eating utensil in this era are astronomical. Anyone applying with such would have extremely good reasoning for it to be approved."

In that scenario, I kinda feel like the person would be perfectly reasonable to think something along the lines of: "eeeeeh, maybe I'm not interested in playing in an RP you're running if you're this uptight about something as insignificant as a spork." Ultimately, while it is true that not being able to eat with a spork is a small thing to lose interest in an RP over, seeing how poorly a mod handles small and insignificant things can be a pretty strong indicator of how they'll handle the rest of their RP and thus a very reasonable thing to lost interest over.

@0 Azzy 0

How, exactly, was it poorly handled? The lightsaber blaster was invented by a child in the Imperial Era. There is no record of such a contraption prior to Ezra's making of it, as far as I'm aware, so there's absolutely no reason that one should assume they existed prior in any sort of number. That's what Ellri was talking about, clearly. But if a reasonable argument for why someone might have one, as has been said in this thread NUMEROUS times, it would be considered by the mod team and potentially allowed. That's literally all that was said.

Everything else that was argued about was basically you saying "well for this, this and this reason, it might be possible that it exists" which is fine, but your ideas being refuted isn't the mod team poorly handling anything. In fact, most of this has just been players talking about why or why not lightsaber blasters could or could not exist.

Seems to me like you're giving Kitty a great deal of charity in his/her reason for not wanting to play the game, yet giving absolutely no charity to anyone that disagrees with you. And its really rather silly that you'd go to such lengths to make a point about how terribly ass-pained everyone must be for not immediately agreeing that this belongs in an out of era story that sticks fairly close to the canon. Star Wars isn't exactly a serious thing, and a Roleplay set in Star Wars isn't really either, so its not something to really get all that fussy about. But I don't think that means all manner of things should be allowed just for the hell of it, no?

Superboy's Shitty Characters

Rin Hessia

R I N H E S S I A

"There is nothing immoral about violence; violence is a tool. Its what you use that tool for that decides whether it was right or wrong."

Species: Human

Sex: Female

Age: 40

Appearance: Rin Hessia is an old soul in a young woman's body, thanks in no small part to her wealth buying her the best cosmetic and cybernetic surgeries that Republic credits can buy. Both of her hands up to the mid-part of her forearm have been replaced with synthflesh-covered, durasteel prosthetics. A chunk of her chest, and one of her lungs, required high-tech cybernetics installed in order to continue functioning. Numerous other procedures were done for cosmetic purposes, such as the removal of scars and wrinkles and other, more minor blemishes- the result of it all being a quite attractive form that betrayed her age and experiences. The only real crack in Senator Hessia's illusion of youth are the streaks of grey that dot her otherwise bright, amber colored hair; she thought they matched well with the steelish silver eyes her family was famous for, so she decided to keep them.

She's tall for a human woman, standing at an impressive five feet and eleven inches. In her prime her form was covered in taut, powerful muscle, though her physical infirmities have taken their toll. Rin is leaner now, with only a small amount of athleticism and a healthy, if not slightly weak, form. She tends to cover it in a modified version of her old officer's uniform. It keeps the same blue-and-gold, as well as the same jacket, but the skirt is slightly longer and she's traded the cap for a golden headband and fanciful braids.

Homeworld: Anaxes

Role: Senator of Anaxes

Equipment:

• Hold-out "Sleeper" Blaster
• Visual wrist comlink/datapad
• Utility vibroblade
• Personal possessions

Skills: Piloting, Persuasion, Diplomacy

Psychological Analysis:

Backstory:

Sonen Arlo

S O N E N A R L O

"Alright...Time to do something stupid, I guess!"

Species: Human

Sex: Male

Age: 19

Homeworld: Coruscant

Role: Jedi Knight

Skills: Double-bladed lightsaber combat, Ataru

Appearance:

Equipment: Green double-bladed lightsaber, Jedi Robes

Psychological Analysis:

Backstory:

Orm Dala

O R M D A L A

"All men shall be free."

Species: Nautolan

Sex: Male

Age: 32

Homeworld: Glee Anselm

Role: Sith Apprentice

Skills: Niman, Piloting

Appearance:

Equipment: Two Red lightsabers, personal starship

Psychological Analysis:

Backstory:

Superboy's Shitty Characters

House Information

---

House Greyjoy

Synopsis

House Greyjoy of Pyke is one of the Great Houses of Westeros, whether the rest of the six kingdoms acknowledge it or not. The Krakens have lorded over the Iron Islands for generations despite the best efforts of their numerous enemies, and they've only grown stronger in recent years with the efforts of their Lord Paramounts. The head of the family, who bears the name Harren The Cursed at the moment, is traditionally known as the Lord Reaper of Pyke- a reference to their House Words, and the reaping they do at the cost of the iron price. Though the Old Way waned under the reign of Asha Greyjoy, her grandson, seeing the deteriorating health of the queen and her lack of a proper heir, stokes the Ironborn's violent nature to fuel his own twisted ambition. He sees this as the perfect opportunity to finally see the dream he and his father shared come to pass: that the Greyjoys would once again rule as conquerors and kings, and that all the world would tremble at the sight of their sails and the sound of their name.

Head of House

Lord Harren Greyjoy

Seat

Pyke

Demesne

House Blacktyde of Blacktyde
House Botley of Lordsport
House Drumm of Old Wyk
House Goodbrother of Hammerhorn
House Harlaw of Ten Towers
House Merlyn of Pebbleton
House Stonehouse of Old Wyk
House Sunderly of Saltcliffe
House Tawney of Orkmont
House Wynch of Iron Holt

Recent History

Asha Greyjoy was an even-handed and charismatic ruler following the War of Five Kings. She stabilized the Iron Islands and served Daenerys Targaryen and her people well. While old men refused to accept true reform- Asha included in their number, in a way- she was able to temper their desire for the Old Way by turning their reaving toward coasts beyond Westeros. Her rule was controversial, but only among the Ironborn, with much of the rest of Westeros more than happy to see their coasts unscathed. Trade entered the Islands again, though its lack of self-made wealth kept them from ever reaching anything near the level of the other Paramount Houses.

Asha's firstborn son, Dalton II Greyjoy, took the throne after his mother died in her sleep. He was said to be quiet and scheming even as a lad, more Lannister than Greyjoy. His sharp mind was useless without direction, however, and he found himself restless on that dead, salty rock they called Pyke; that is, until a sign was presented to him by the Drowned God- a dream of dead dragons and a Kraken seated on the throne of Harrenhal. Dalton took to his fate like a fish to water, devoting all of his might to seeing that the Ironborn were prepared for the day that the dragons grew old, fat and lazy enough for them to drag those serpents into the depths. Though Dalton expected that he might be the one to sit on the throne of Harrenhal, he was mistaken, for as time went on it became clear he wouldn't outlive Daenerys. So he began to raise his son for one, perfect purpose: to make kings and conquerors of the Ironmen again.

Harren Greyjoy, First of His Name, was meant to take the throne when Dalton fell. Yet, when he went to take the Seastone Chair, he found his younger brother Torgon had already claimed it for himself. Torgon, raised more by his uncle Theomore than his father, hated Harren for being the favored child. Torgon wished to see the Old Way returned, and the 'reforms' of his father and grandmother dashed against the rocks, so he called to his side every captain more loyal to the iron price than they were to their Lord Paramount. Civil war broke across the Iron Islands like a tidal wave as brother fought brother for control of the throne. Torgon appeared to have the advantage, and most thought he would win in the end. And he would have, if he were not foolish enough to meet Harren in open battle at sea. The two locked ships and engaged one another personally, fighting tooth and nail for the crown. Torgon was a better swordsman than Harren, but Harren was more bold: he chose to tackle his brother and send them both into the drink rather than die at his brother's hand.

Both brothers were thought dead until Harren appeared again two days later at the front of a rowboat, with a scarred priest of the Drowned God at his side. He was declared, in no uncertain terms, the Lord of the Iron Islands, and the living herald of the Drowned God. Taking upon himself the title of Drowned Terror of Westeros, Harren arose to the Seastone Chair, and decided to continue his father's ambition with just as much frenzied fanaticism as Dalton had.

Realm Relations

TBD

Storyline Premise

Harren Greyjoy believes himself to be chosen by the Drowned God to bring the Ironborn to their old glory as conquerors and kings. His aim is to take Harrenhal, claim himself King of the Isles and Rivers, and build an independent kingdom like none Westeros has seen since Aegon's Conquest crushed them all. He knows, however, that the Ironborn are poor and under-equipped; unable to sustain a war against another Great House, even one as weak and disjointed as House Tully. He aims to align himself with another power, hiding his true intentions with the hope of declaring himself only when the Ironborn no longer require anyone else's help.

Characters

Harren Greyjoy

Conceptualization & Premise

---

Character Information

Identity

What is your character's name?

Age

What is your character's age?

Role

Does your character have an important title, if not perhaps a role? Void this section if not applicable.

Characterization

Describe said character's reputation and values.

Attributes & Talents

Describe said character's abilities and skills.

Immediate Family

List his immediate family.

Personal Relations

Describe notable (PC) characters they know, why they know them, and what their opinion of said character is.

Storyline Premise

What is the story you are wishing to tell with this character?

Theomore Greyjoy

Conceptualization & Premise

---

Character Information

Identity

What is your character's name?

Age

What is your character's age?

Role

Does your character have an important title, if not perhaps a role? Void this section if not applicable.

Characterization

Describe said character's reputation and values.

Attributes & Talents

Describe said character's abilities and skills.

Immediate Family

List his immediate family.

Personal Relations

Describe notable (PC) characters they know, why they know them, and what their opinion of said character is.

Storyline Premise

What is the story you are wishing to tell with this character?

Adrack Blacktyde

Conceptualization & Premise

---

Character Information

Identity

What is your character's name?

Age

What is your character's age?

Role

Does your character have an important title, if not perhaps a role? Void this section if not applicable.

Characterization

Describe said character's reputation and values.

Attributes & Talents

Describe said character's abilities and skills.

Immediate Family

List his immediate family.

Personal Relations

Describe notable (PC) characters they know, why they know them, and what their opinion of said character is.

Storyline Premise

What is the story you are wishing to tell with this character?

Teen Titans

A P A R T M E N T 3 0 2

---

^{Noon | Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan, New York City}

"Oh, thank you so very much, Superman!" The old woman's voice pitched and shook, her lips spread out into a wide grin. She stood before her apartment door, her old, scratch-ridden key clutched between her fragile fingers as she looked back over her shoulder at 'Superman.' He was shorter than he looked on TV. And that red and blue suit he always wore was absent, replaced by some white, capeless variant; truthfully it looked like a downgrade, but who was she to tell Superman that after he helped her carry her groceries all the way up here?

"Let me give you something for your trouble," She grunted, struggling to poke the key into the lock. Her hand was shaking too much to focus. It was hard not to be nervous with the Man of Tomorrow standing just behind her, after all. "some cookies, maybe? My grandchildren say they're the best they've ever-"

"No." Kon-El interrupted, his voice more forceful than he intended. He didn't notice the affect his words had until he saw the look of absolute shock on the elderly lady's face, and he felt his own quickly heat up. "I...I mean, er, I appreciate the offer, ma'am. But I have to go. And I'm not-"

"The world can wait a few minutes!" She insisted, still fighting to even open her front door while Kon-El bounced impatiently behind her; she either paid him no mind or was too oblivious to see how eager he was to move on with his day. "You deserve a break, sweetheart."

When he ran away from the Fortress and came to the New York City his sort-of cousin had told him so much about, he'd been expecting...more. Where were all the villains Kal was always fighting? Where were the disasters he and Kara insisted they had to stop when they left Kon-El alone in that frozen castle? He didn't think they'd lie to him, yet...

"Oh, I hate this dumb thing sometimes. Always has to jam on me." The grandma huffed, slapping her palm up against the wooden frame.

She'd said something after that, too, but Kon-El missed it. It was too far away for the aging human to hear, yet to Kon it was as loud and thunderous as if it'd happened just outside. A clap like thunder rolled in the distance, followed shortly by the sound of screeching wheels, honking horns and the screams of the wounded and the dying. By the time the woman had turned around, 'Superman' was gone, her groceries scattered across the hallway and the nearby window shattered into a thousand pieces.

"How rude!"

C I T Y S T R E E T S

---

^{Noon | Midtown, Manhattan, New York City}

Superboy crossed the city toward the source of the explosion as quickly as he could, leaving behind broken concrete and a collapsed- thankfully empty- taxi. Each leap dragged him through the air and right back down to the earth with a crash, shaking the streets with a thunderous smack before he took off once more. It didn't take long to arrive at his destination, though how he'd handle what he found there was another matter entirely.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. CADMUS's simulations of smell were far less...visceral. He could pick out the individual stenches, differentiating each crushed body and every burning car from all the rest. Smoke choked his nostrils, thick and black thanks to the tires caught in the explosion; it was like a punch straight to his nervous system.

His ears, too, suffered. Screams of the frightened and the hurt, punctuated by the clamor of rending metal and the screeching of unearthly tongues. The flickering flames were a constant, quiet thumping in the back of his head as he rose to his feet and shook off the sensory overload as best he could.

Once Kon wrestled back control, he looked out over the street, and found it occupied by monsters. Giant, lipless lizards with bodies like gorillas and eyes burning with otherworldly hate. It didn't take a genius to know they were aliens, but it was the flying girl that gave him pause. Her skin was orange, and her eyes glowed green. Her heart didn't beat like a human's. She wasn't a meta, and the language she yelled in didn't sound like any he had ever heard.

'Another alien.' He decided with a wordless grunt, rising to his full height. He was no Superman, but Kon was still rather tall and broad for someone his age; the skin tight, white solar suit that he wore showed the contours of his lab-built body well. Strong yet thus far untested hands clenched tight into fists brought level beside the bright red crest he wore. Alien as it felt on him, Kon knew it meant something- to more than just the people of earth.

Kon took in a deep breath, empowering his lungs as he shouted at the top of his voice. "HEY!" He roared until he'd gotten the aliens' collective attention. "I'LL SAY THIS ONCE: Get down on your knees and put your hands on your heads." Superboy let power flow up into his eyes, lighting them a bright, dangerous red. "Or you're not gonna like what happens next."

Superboy's Shitty Characters

A P A R T M E N T 3 0 2

---

^{Noon | Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan, New York City}

"Oh, thank you so very much, Superman!" The old woman's voice pitched and shook, her lips spread out into a wide grin. She stood before her apartment door, her old, scratch-ridden key clutched between her fragile fingers as she looked back over her shoulder at 'Superman.' He was shorter than he looked on TV. And that red and blue suit he always wore was absent, replaced by some white, capeless variant; truthfully it looked like a downgrade, but who was she to tell Superman that after he helped her carry her groceries all the way up here?

"Let me give you something for your trouble," She grunted, struggling to poke the key into the lock. Her hand was shaking too much to focus. It was hard not to be nervous with the Man of Tomorrow standing just behind her, after all. "some cookies, maybe? My grandchildren say they're the best they've ever-"

"No." Kon-El interrupted, his voice more forceful than he intended. He didn't notice the affect his words had until he saw the look of absolute shock on the elderly lady's face, and he felt his own quickly heat up. "I...I mean, er, I appreciate the offer, ma'am. But I have to go. And I'm not-"

"The world can wait a few minutes!" She insisted, still fighting to even open her front door while Kon-El bounced impatiently behind her; she either paid him no mind or was too oblivious to see how eager he was to move on with his day. "You deserve a break, sweetheart."

When he ran away from the Fortress and came to the New York City his sort-of cousin had told him so much about, he'd been expecting...more. Where were all the villains Kal was always fighting? Where were the disasters he and Kara insisted they had to stop when they left Kon-El alone in that frozen castle? He didn't think they'd lie to him, yet...

"Oh, I hate this dumb thing sometimes. Always has to jam on me." The grandma huffed, slapping her palm up against the wooden frame.

She'd said something after that, too, but Kon-El missed it. It was too far away for the aging human to hear, yet to Kon it was as loud and thunderous as if it'd happened just outside. A clap like thunder rolled in the distance, followed shortly by the sound of screeching wheels, honking horns and the screams of the wounded and the dying. By the time the woman had turned around, 'Superman' was gone, her groceries scattered across the hallway and the nearby window shattered into a thousand pieces.

"How rude!"

C I T Y S T R E E T S

---

^{Noon | Midtown, Manhattan, New York City}

Superboy crossed the city toward the source of the explosion as quickly as he could, leaving behind broken concrete and a collapsed- thankfully empty- taxi. Each leap dragged him through the air and right back down to the earth with a crash, shaking the streets with a thunderous smack before he took off once more. It didn't take long to arrive at his destination, though how he'd handle what he found there was another matter entirely.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. CADMUS's simulations of smell were far less...visceral. He could pick out the individual stenches, differentiating each crushed body and every burning car from all the rest. Smoke choked his nostrils, thick and black thanks to the tires caught in the explosion; it was like a punch straight to his nervous system.

His ears, too, suffered. Screams of the frightened and the hurt, punctuated by the clamor of rending metal and the screeching of unearthly tongues. The flickering flames were a constant, quiet thumping in the back of his head as he rose to his feet and shook off the sensory overload as best he could.

Once Kon wrestled back control, he looked out over the street, and found it occupied by monsters. Giant, lipless lizards with bodies like gorillas and eyes burning with otherworldly hate. It didn't take a genius to know they were aliens, but it was the flying girl that gave him pause. Her skin was orange, and her eyes glowed green. Her heart didn't beat like a human's. She wasn't a meta, and the language she yelled in didn't sound like any he had ever heard.

'Another alien.' He decided with a wordless grunt, rising to his full height. He was no Superman, but Kon was still rather tall and broad for someone his age; the skin tight, white solar suit that he wore showed the contours of his lab-built body well. Strong yet thus far untested hands clenched tight into fists brought level beside the bright red crest he wore. Alien as it felt on him, Kon knew it meant something- to more than just the people of earth.

Kon took in a deep breath, empowering his lungs as he shouted at the top of his voice. "HEY!" He roared until he'd gotten the aliens' collective attention. "I'LL SAY THIS ONCE: Get down on your knees and put your hands on your heads." Superboy let power flow up into his eyes, lighting them a bright, dangerous red. "Or you're not gonna like what happens next."

Superboy's Shitty Characters

House Greyjoy

"We Do Not Sow"

House Information

---

Synopsis

House Greyjoy of Pyke is one of the Great Houses of Westeros, whether the rest of the six kingdoms acknowledge it or not. The Krakens have lorded over the Iron Islands for generations despite the best efforts of their numerous enemies, and they've only grown stronger in recent years with the efforts of their Lord Paramounts. The head of the family, who bears the name Harren The Cursed at the moment, is traditionally known as the Lord Reaper of Pyke- a reference to their House Words, and the reaping they do at the cost of the iron price. Though the Old Way waned under the reign of Asha Greyjoy, her grandson, seeing the deteriorating health of the queen and her lack of a proper heir, stokes the Ironborn's violent nature to fuel his own twisted ambition. He sees this as the perfect opportunity to finally see the dream he and his father shared come to pass: that the Greyjoys would once again rule as conquerors and kings, and that all the world would tremble at the sight of their sails and the sound of their name.

Seat

Castle Pyke

Demesne

House Blacktyde of Blacktyde
House Botley of Lordsport
House Drumm of Old Wyk
House Goodbrother of Hammerhorn
House Harlaw of Ten Towers
House Merlyn of Pebbleton
House Stonehouse of Old Wyk
House Sunderly of Saltcliffe
House Tawney of Orkmont
House Wynch of Iron Holt

Recent History

What has occured in your house's history in recent years?

Realm Relations

What are the established perceptions and alliances between your house and others in the realm?

Conceptualization & Premise

---

Head of House

Harren Greyjoy The Cursed, Lord Reaper of Pyke, King of Salt and Rock, Son of the Sea Wind, Drowned Terror of Westeros and Kinslayer

Characterization

Describe said character's reputation and values.

Immediate Family

List his immediate family.

Storyline Premise

What is the story you are wishing to tell with this character and his house?

Teen Titans

T H E S K Y ( S O R T O F ? )

---

^{11:35 a.m. | Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan, New York City}

The summer sun beat down on a bustling urban hub built of wrought iron and glass. Millions of fragile primates weaved in-between streets of smooth stone, where beasts of steel and rubber raced bumper-to-rear to cross the expansive city. High above it all and maneuvering between the towers of glass were flocks of birds and fluffy masses of condensed water vapor- 'clouds,' the locals called them. Kon-El passed his palm through the billowing sheet, feeling each individual drop pass through the crevices in his fingertips; they slipped down his palm like a thousand, tiny tendrils reaching out to greet his touch.

Though it felt like an eternity to him, Kon-El didn't linger there for long before gravity took hold of his weight and dragged him down. It was like an anchor tied around his ankles, keeping him from staying up where he belonged for more than seconds at a time. It was painfully frustrating, but he couldn't stew in his irritations at the moment.

He was more concerned with making sure he landed.

Despite hours upon hours of practice with Kal, Kon was...nervous, embarrassingly enough. Not of being hurt in the fall, obviously- nothing could hurt a Kryptonian- but of screwing up his landing and accidentally destroying something he shouldn't. Everything around him was just so fragile. The humans, their homes, their cars. His genetic template had once referred to the world as 'cardboard.' As Kon understood it, that material was as fragile to humans as humans were to people like Kon.

The air bent around his sleek form as he descended from the air like a rock, his arms held out to give him balance and his feet pointed in such a way that he hoped to direct his landing. He could feel the minute changes in the air pressure and wind direction down to the millisecond. It was a lot of information, and all of it useless given how little control he had over his gravitational field. For a moment, he thought he could feel himself slowing- that perhaps he was starting to get a handle on the whole 'flying' thing-

Just before he tasted concrete.

"Damn it-" Kon snarled in a flash of red hot anger, his fingers digging into the street and shattering the asphalt like it was made of glass. In a huff he dragged himself back to his feet using a nearby street lamp, his grip just harsh enough to snap off a piece of its metal exterior. Enraged by his own clumsiness, he chucked the debris into the sky, watching as the steel disappeared above the cloud layer and soared toward the New York Harbor.

His little superpowered-tantrum drew the attention of more than a few nearby humans. The Kryptonian clone's cheeks flushed a bright red at the sight of their pointed cameras and the sound of their panicked whispers. He hadn't intended to make a scene, or to break anything, or to look like such an angry oaf while doing all of it.

"Show's over." He snapped, taking off into the air with a leap that shook the street. The Superboy carried himself with an awkward glide toward a nearby brick building, landing atop its roof in a stumble that turned into an even more awkward roll. He couldn't understand why he was such a klutz. CADMUS had run him through simulation after simulation while he was trapped in their breeding chambers- flying hadn't been nearly so hard then. Kon assumed flying in the real world was just harder, but then Kara and Kal had both mastered it when they were years younger than he was.

A puddle left behind by last night's rain caught the clone's eye, drawing him toward it. He knelt down, watching his reflection match him in the still water. The face he saw didn't feel like it was his own; it looked too much like Kal's. Like a distorted, imperfect copy of the original. The crest he wore on his chest was much the same. It lacked the correct angles. The lines were too rounded out and soft- not as strong and uncompromising as the real symbol of the House of El.

Kon-El would’ve had trouble tearing his eyes away, if not for some distant cry for help. He immediately felt his mood shift as his attention focused fully on the far away voice; sound so quiet and so intermingled with other noise that no human could’ve heard, yet for him it was crystal clear all the same. “Finally.” He muttered to himself, rising back up to his feet. He bounded across the rooftop and leaped from it, taking to the air to soar again. Another precious few seconds spent among the clouds. Superboy savored them, even as he descended back down to earth. He didn’t feel the same nervous energy in his veins as he aimed for a clearing in an alley beneath him. The purpose he felt didn’t allow for it.

Superboy's Shitty Characters

T H E S K Y ( S O R T O F ? )

---

^{11:35 a.m. | Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan, New York City}

The Summer sun beat down on a bustling urban hub built of wrought iron and glass. Millions of fragile primates weaved in-between streets of smooth stone, where beasts of steel and rubber raced bumper-to-rear to cross the expansive city. High above it all and maneuvering between the towers of glass were flocks of birds and fluffy masses of condensed water vapor- 'clouds,' the locals called them. Kon-El passed his palm through the billowing sheet, feeling each individual drop pass through the crevices in his fingertips; they slipped down his palm like a thousand, tiny tendrils reaching out to great his touch.

Though it felt like an eternity to him, Kon-El didn't linger there for long before gravity took hold of his weight and dragged him down. It was like an anchor tied around his ankles, keeping him from staying up where he belonged for more than seconds at a time. It was painfully frustrating, but he couldn't stew in his irritations at the moment.

He was more concerned with making sure he landed.

Despite hours upon hours of practice with Kal, Kon was...nervous, embarrassingly enough. Not of being hurt in the fall, obviously- nothing could hurt a Kryptonian- but of screwing up his landing and accidentally destroying something he shouldn't. Everything around him was just so fragile. The humans, their homes, their cars. His genetic baseplate had once referred to the world as 'cardboard.' As Kon understood it, that material was as fragile to humans as humans were to people like Kon.

The air bent around his sleek form as he descended from the air like a rock, his arms held out to give him balance and his feet pointed in such a way that he hoped to direct his landing. He could feel the minute changes in the air pressure and wind direction down to the millisecond. It was a lot of information, and all of it useless given how little control he had over his gravitational field. For a moment, he thought he could feel himself slowing- that perhaps he was starting to get a handle on the whole 'flying' thing-

Just before he tasted concrete.

"God damn it-" Kon snarled in a flash of red hot anger, his fingers digging into the street and shattering the asphalt like it was made of glass. In a huff he dragged himself back to his feet using a nearby street lamp, his grip just harsh enough to snap off a piece of its metal exterior. Enraged by his own clumsiness, he chucked the debris into the sky, watching as the steel disappeared above the cloud layer and soared toward the New York Harbor.

His little superpowered-tantrum drew the attention of more than a few nearby humans. The Kryptonian clone's cheeks flushed a bright red at the sight of their pointed cameras and the sound of their panicked whispers. He hadn't intended to make a scene, or to break anything, or to look like such an angry oaf while doing all of it.

"Show's over." He snapped, taking off into the air with a leap that shook the street. The Superboy carried himself with an awkward glide toward a nearby brick building, landing atop its roof in a stumble that turned into an even awkwarder roll. He couldn't understand why he was such a klutz. CADMUS had run him through simulation after simulation while he was trapped in their breeding chambers- flying hadn't been nearly so hard then. Kon assumed flying in reality was just inherently harder, but then Kara and Kal had both mastered it when they were years younger than he was.