[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/445351464320106498/870668188650733618/SB4.png[/img][/center][indent][sub][color=white][b]SEASON ONE[/b][/color][color=e20025] Sensation & Wonder[/color][/sub][sup][right][b][color=white]SUPERBOY #8[/color][/b] [url=https://youtu.be/lUMT9OIaVvE][color=e20025]Pull My Strings[/color][/url][/right][/sup][/indent][indent][indent][indent][hr][/indent][/indent][/indent][indent][color=white][sub][b]Acquisitions Department - The Complex [color=e20025]♦[/color] Metropolis[/b][/sub][/color][/indent]
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The Acquisitions Department was one, giant chamber, designed to accommodate even the strangest assets. In its center was a sizeable portion of a Dominator spacecraft, surrounded by a transparent plastic bubble. Workers in hazmat suits entered the bubble through a multistage decontamination port to perform analysis and collect samples. They'd been toiling over it since 2010 yet were still finding breakthroughs in their research to this day. It may have been crown jewel of the department's collection, but it was not the only notable prize. Others included a Soviet nuclear submarine from a different dimension, a defunct time machine, and the eye of a former Lord of Hell.  

A large, rectangular passage in the ceiling allowed the coming and going of helicopters and other, more sophisticated transportation. If one were to draw a straight line from that tunnel up to the surface, it would've led to a supermarket's parking lot. Yet Cadmus's assets arrived from all over the world by means few were privy to. 

This was where Paul Westfield, Director of Cadmus and CEO of its public-facing company, found himself. He was an older man, handsome, with jet black hair silvered only around the temples. Though it looked perfectly natural, everything about his appearance had been the work of the world's foremost designers- and they all worked for him. Paul found the deception distasteful. If he had his way he'd be the sagging, white-haired sack of skin he should've been for his age; the modern public, however, expected a certain standard of powerful men. They were attractive, though not too much so. They wore suits with a particular number of buttons. Drove outrageously expensive cars. Spoke within a certain range of diction. Speech was always the most obnoxious part of adapting to the time he lived in.

He stood atop an observation deck, a gun in his hand, waiting.

Superboy followed a security officer into the chamber, hands balled into fists at his side. Everything that'd happened played back in his mind: Leech coming after him over Anne, the confrontation with Knockout, and all the dots Tana Moon helped him connect back at the Daily Planet. Try as he might to deny it, something was happening to Cadmus. Something wrong. The company he knew was strict, had high expectations, but at the end of the day they were supposed to be [i]helping[/i] people. That's why they were building superheroes. That's why they made him: to replace Superman if anything ever happened to him.

[color=lightblue][i]'All I gotta do is tell Westfield the truth. Be firm. Once he understands that Knockout wasn't doin' anything wrong he'll understand. I know he will. He's gotta.'[/i][/color] Then the doctor would explain that this was somehow all a big mistake. Rex got the wrong woman, or somebody'd misfiled something. That was always happening in these big companies, right?

Cadmus wasn't exactly like most big companies. Most of them didn't have an alien spaceship in their basement.

[color=lightblue]"How long's this been down here?"[/color] Superboy asked after letting out a long, low whistle. His neck was craned to take in the massive ship. It wasn't the mothership that'd nearly flattened New York City, but it was bigger than near every terrestrial aircraft bar SHIELD's helicarrier. Perhaps he'd be more impressed by the sight if he hadn't been drenched in someone's remains earlier- that sort of thing was usually a downer. Thankfully the guard had been thoughtful enough to bring a towel when he came to fetch Superboy. No time for a shower, though; when Westfield requested someone's presence that meant immediately.

His question went unanswered as he was led along the chamber floor to the other side, where a long observation deck stretched the length of the far wall. From that high up Westfield was barely visible to the human eye. Superboy's feet left the ground and he took to the air, closing the distance between them slowly. He could've been eye level with the good doctor in a millisecond if he so chose.

That would've been far less dramatic.

When the two were face to face the rest of the world melted away. It wasn't often that they saw one another. Westfield was a man dedicated to the work. He delegated, let men like Rex Leech handle Superboy. Rex kept the boy on a long leash but he knew when to reward and when to punish. Knew how to advance Cadmus's public interests. That had seemed sufficient before this. [color=lightgray]"You've made quite a mess."[/color] He was terse. Hard to read. His heartbeat never wavered, he never let micro-expressions break his permanent scowl.

[color=lightblue]"Wouldn't have had to if you just let me in."[/color]

Paul clicked his tongue. [color=lightgray]"You don't have access to this facility. Of course security tried to detain you."[/color]

[color=lightblue]"Shouldn't I have a key to the house I was born in, doc?"[/color] Superboy shrugged, and looked away.

[color=lightgray]"This is not a place for you to play in, boy."[/color] he began, raising his voice. [color=lightgray]"And be assured that is all you do: [b]play.[/b] You play at being a hero,"[/color] he practically spat the word, full of disdain and vinegar, [color=lightgray]"play at being a celebrity. The girls, the games, they are a distraction. Bread and circuses to appease the masses because they could not possibly understand our true purpose."[/color]

Superboy tried to swallow, yet found his mouth dry. [color=lightblue]"Wh-what are you talkin' about? I don't understand what you're gettin' at."[/color]

Westfield paced along the observation deck, a hand on the railing. [color=lightgray]"Of course you don't. How was it your new friend put it? The 'tip of the iceberg.'"[/color]

He felt his heart drop into his stomach. [color=lightblue]"You already know."[/color]

[color=lightgray]"What sort of fool would I be not to be tracking my assets at all time?"[/color] Westfield shook his head. [color=lightgray]"I knew you to be a disappointment, 13-B04, but the depths of your ignorance continue to confound me. Allow me to make things clear for you: I know you're here because you think yourself good for trusting a wicked creature, born to murder. I know you believe our organization so inept that the left hand does not know what the right hand is doing. And last of all I know these revelations will destroy your image of what we do here, because your conception of reality is bound by the simple-minded morality of a child. Good guys punching bad guys in the face, is that right?"[/color]

[color=lightblue]"I...I don't..."[/color]

[color=lightgray]"I see now that you require an education in the ways of the world."[/color] Paul Westfield stopped his pacing, turned to face Superboy, and lifted the gun in his hand.

He scrunched his face up, bewildered by the weapon pointed at him. [color=lightblue]"What, are you gonna shoot me?"[/color] Anxiety made him laugh. None of this made a lick of sense to him, and everything Westfield said to 'explain' the situation only added to Superboy's confusion and that building sense of dread in his insides. [color=lightblue]"You oughta know that won't do anything to me. H-here's what's going to happen,"[/color] be firm. Don't let him push you around. [color=lightblue]"You're gonna tell me why you're doin' all this, or I'm gonna flatten ya, got it?"[/color]

[color=lightgray]"Consider this your first lesson."[/color] Westfield pulled the trigger. There was no bullet. Just a flash of energy, red and black and dripping with malevolence. It squirmed into Superboy's every pore, into his mouth and into his eyes. Dug deep into his insides and turned his dread into an agonizing, burning pain. It burned, and pushed, like somebody inside his body was trying to tear a hole out of him. Everything knotted, twisted. Muscles contorted. Blood was boiling, literally. Before he knew it Superboy was falling. People scattered to get away from him. The slow ones were struck by similarly colored bolts just for being near him, and they writhed in pain as they were cooked from the inside out.

Westfield leapt off the side of the observation deck. A fall like that would've killed any ordinary man, yet he landed on his feet beside where Superboy had fallen. The gun the director held in his hand pulsated. One moment it was an ordinary pistol. The next it was a strange, golden weapon covered in living thorns. The two objects occupied the same space, juxtaposed against one another- the same yet not, like a deadly paradox. [color=lightgray]"You wish to know why I'm 'doin' all this'?"[/color] Westfield held the weapon up. [color=lightgray]"This is why. This was a gift from one of our...foreign benefactors. He wished very much to see [i]'Knockout'[/i] returned home, and offered us more of their incredible technology for her. Don't you see? All this power and the cost is one evil little wretch's' life."[/color]

Paul got down on one knee, running his hand through Superboy's hair. [color=lightgray]"Its simple Game Theory. There is only so much power to go around in the universe and it is my obligation- my [b]duty[/b]- to ensure humanity has enough of it to survive what's coming. You will play a part in that calculation when the time comes, as will all your...like-minded associates."[/color]

[color=lightblue]"I'll- I'll stop you."[/color] Superboy struggled to speak, struggled to roll off his back and onto his hands. Push up, drag his knees against the concrete. Every tiny movement exasperated the pain he was in. Even his emotions played into it.

[color=lightgray]"How can you not see?!"[/color] Westfield roared, spittle flying. [color=lightgray]"I am securing the future of the human species, and you want to stand in my way to protect a criminal- a monster? Her very essence abhors life. The desire to cause pain is coded into her DNA. That is how far her world is willing to go, how do you think earth will fare when they come to our door and we aren't even willing to do this one, small thing?"[/color]

Superboy slowly crawled to his feet, and Westfield rose up with him until the two were standing inches apart. The energy still crackling in Superboy's skin never touched the director, never even moved in his direction.

[color=lightblue]"He- he wouldn't do that. He'd find another way,"[/color] the boy spoke in half-delirious mumbles.

Westfield took a moment to gather himself, swallowing his anger. He readjusted his suit and dusted off his pants, pocketing the weapon. [color=lightgray]"Your weakness disgusts me, but its not unsurprising. I wanted you to mimic humanity so you could be our face but I knew there would be consequences to that. Modern society has forgotten the meaning of strength. It no longer follows a single, powerful vision as it once did. I do mean to remedy that, in time, but control only comes with dedication and no small amount of ingenuity."[/color]

[color=lightblue]"You think you're in control?"[/color] Superboy gave a wet, sticky cough. [color=lightblue]"I could fly you up into the stratosphere and- and drop you before you finished blinkin'. You'd splat. Like a bug."[/color]

[color=lightgray]"Do it."[/color] Westfield shrugged simply. [color=lightgray]"Try."[/color]

Superboy blinked, bewildered.

[color=lightgray]"I gave you an order: try to grab me."[/color]

[color=lightblue]"I..."[/color] Superboy's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't moved an inch. [color=lightblue]"I am. I am, I just can't-"[/color]

[color=lightgray]"Move? No, I thought not. You can never allow me to come to harm. Nothing in Cadmus can. This place may be older than me but I am the head of the serpent, now, and the body answers to me and me alone. You are petulant because I allow it. You act because I demand it. That girl at the Planet will disappear before she can write that story of hers, your redheaded friend will be caught and sent back to her homeworld, and you...I will leave you with our final lesson of today: I own you. I want you to...fly yourself up into the stratosphere and let yourself fall. Terminal velocity won't kill you, but it [b]will[/b] hurt. And I hope that pain will allow today's lessons to stick in your mind."[/color]

A boy floats on the edge of nothing. There's one hundred sixty-three thousand and six hundred and eighty feet of open air between him and the world below. Voices hang in his ear through the radio receiver implanted in cochlea, shouting up at him from so far beneath him, but he pays them no mind. All there is in the world is him. Him and the fall. He takes in one last breath-- deep, full, terrified. 

And he steps off.

[center][h3]PULL MY STRINGS: THE END[/h3][/center]
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