Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Jul 13, 2007 18:35:10 GMT -5
Truth and Justice #2
Written by JC Roberts (Calamityjamie)
Edited by Daniel Dyer (Spider-Man Beyond)
"What did you think of Gren trying to edge out your dad?” Martha asked, hours later, as she and Lian began unpacking boxes in the small two-bedroom apartment they’d rented in Northeast Gotham.
Her roommate grimaced. “What a joke. Who’d follow him?”
“I don’t think I could,” said Martha. “He’s got some real power issues.”
“He’s an obnoxious jerk,” said Lian. “He acts like having been in the army makes him a leader. And he’s such a fool with women. You haven’t seen him in action lately, but he actually thinks all the bimbo worship means something.”
She pulled a skimpy gauze blouse from the brown cardboard box and held it up against her ample chest. “Hey, I forgot about this one! Does it still look hot on me?”
“The box would look hot on you.” Martha reminded herself that friends don’t psychoanalyze friends and ripped the packing tape off of a Seagram’s box. “Jeez, Lian, you have an entire box full of underwear?”
“Well, you know, you need different ones for different occasions.”
Martha snorted softly and reached for a slice of Sartelli’s veggie works pizza. Lian had built her entire identity around her sexuality. Even her crime-fighting name – Quiver – evoked a provocativeness she couldn’t seem to turn off. She was naturally gorgeous – Roy’s red hair and green eyes had mixed lusciously with her mother’s striking Vietnamese features. She’d also inherited Roy’s sexual attitudes – at least those of his younger days – and had taken them to what Martha considered an alarming step further. Being Lian’s roommate, Martha knew, would mean spending a lot of nights alone. That was OK. She expected this year to be one of the busiest of her life. She hoped to spend every spare moment at Arkham, either working with patients or doing research. And then there was the Justice League and her solo patrolling. She needed a night’s sleep every few days, but otherwise didn’t expect to be home much herself.
Lian bit into a slice. “This is good pizza.”
“Harvey Dent thought so.”
She laughed. “Maybe that’s why Bats looked so mad. You didn’t offer him a slice.”
Martha leaned back against the tower of liquor store boxes that contained the rest of Lian’s clothes. “Li, I think he always looks mad.”
Lian’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Remember when you were 14?”
“Shut up.”
Martha had badgered her father into letting her fight with the Justice League in what became an experimental – and ultimately discarded – trainee program. Lian, at 18, was already a full member, battling alongside Superman, Batman, her father, the Martian Manhunter and Wonder Woman.
“My God, you had a crush on him.” Lian took a sip of Dr. Pepper and laughed again. “Oh, your poor father. He was so embarrassed watching you mooning all over the Big Bad Bat. Bats was embarrassed. Hell, I was embarrassed. It was painful to watch.”
Martha sucked down half of her 20-ounce Dr. Pepper and sighed. “Yes, Lian, and for the next 14 years, I’ve been embarrassed, as you’ve never let me live it down.”
Learning that Batman was also Bruce Wayne had put an immediate and unequivocal end to her infatuation. She could thank Eclipso for that. She was horrified to learn that her great, noble hero was the sleazy playboy she often saw splashed across the front page of supermarket tabloids, always with a different woman. He was, Martha believed at the time, as skanky as that lecherous geezer, Donald Trump. Her mother did her best to reinforce this impression.
“My mom said he once had sex with Selena Kyle in our bathroom,” Martha said, covering the last slice of pizza with a layer of hot peppers.
“Really?” Lian leaned forward. She found this sort of dirt irresistible.
“Yeah. At a party Dad threw to celebrate the publication of one of Mom’s books. Mom said he did it out of contempt for my dad.” Martha ran her finger around the rim of her bottle.
Lian frowned. “She sure? He doesn’t even bother with that act anymore. I mean, you almost never see him with a woman. Kinda thought he might be gay.”
Probably because somewhere along the line, he said “No” to you, Martha thought. “Think he’d hide it? No one cares anymore.”
“Old people do,” said Lian sagely.
“He’s not old.”
Her roommate raised an eyebrow.
“My mom’s the same age. She’s not old,” said Martha.
So many sore subjects, thought Lian. Lois Lane, at 55, was one of the most beautiful, intelligent women Lian had ever met. Her husband worshiped her, despite the fact that he hadn’t visibly aged a day since he’d reached manhood and Lois was, it could not be denied, a human woman past middle age. Her mortality was a scary subject, one Martha rarely discussed. Lian had lost her own mother before she was three, and hadn’t really known her much before then. She could only imagine Martha’s anxiety. What Lian didn’t have to imagine was her friend’s crippling grief, eight years ago, when Dave was shot to death. She had been there when Martha had dropped the telephone and crumpled onto the floor. She never wanted to see her friend that broken again.
“So,” she said lightly, returning to a safer topic. “You don’t think he’s hot at all?”
“Huh?” Martha was ripping the tape off of another box and had lost track of the subject. “Oh, no. I like them well-adjusted these days.”
Her roommate regarded her carefully. “Now that you’re back, I want to put you on a training regime. We can’t have Gren calling you out of shape again. And maybe Friday we can scout this city for a couple ‘well-adjusted’ guys.”
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