agoodyarn | for timetopaythepiper: New York New York

He opened his mouth to say no, that he didn't really have a nemesis, but--

"I guess there's Mordru," and for the first time in the conversation, Sandy sounded... well, a little closed off. It was clear he wasn't hiding anything, per se, but he was shutting down something inside: the pain. "He murdered Wes in his attempt to stop the next Dr. Fate from being chosen. But he hasn't shown his face for a while, thankfully."

He was glad that they came out of the tunnel then and his voice evened out a little.

"More broadly, there's probably the Injustice Society. It's right there in the name, after all. And the worst of that lot is Johnny Sorrow. You want to talk cultist? He's... about as close as you get. And on the dangerous side of things too."

Hartley wasn't sure how to respond to any of that. As much as he despised Harrison, he'd never murdered anyone Hartley cared about and he couldn't imagine what that must feel like. It was obviously something Sandy had difficulty talking about. He hoped this guy didn't turn up again any time soon. "He sounds like an ass," he said, which was obviously an understatement, but he wasn't going to make Sandy keep talking about it.

He glanced out the window as they came out of the tunnel before turning his attention back on Sandy again.

"Injustice Society? Seriously?" Some of these names were ridiculous. Who would choose to call themselves something like that? What did these people have against subtlety? "What can Johnny Sorrow do?"

Edited 2015-09-27 06:38 (UTC)

"'Ass' is an understatement," Sandy said with a low snort. But thankfully, they had Hector back in the helmet and things were well in hand.

He breathed in deep and considered going into the backstory of the silent film star turned criminal and perpetual thorn in the side of most of the JSA. Then he decided to cover the most important part first.

"If he starts to remove his mask, no matter how insane that sentence turns out to look? Turn the other way and run." He breathed in a bit of a sigh before shuddering just a touch. "He's had dealings with the kind of stuff that gave Lovecraft nightmares and it's made him more than a little dangerous. Not to mention deranged.'

"I assume something really bad happens when he takes off his mask?" he asked, noticing the way Sandy shuddered. "I think I'll try to avoid him altogether if I can. You know, your villains all sound like creep shows."

Not that the villains in Central City weren't dangerous, terrifying, and a bit obvious themselves... but it was a different sort of dangerous, terrifying and obvious. He supposed it was possible these villain was talking weren't the complete freak shows Sandy made them out to be. He was only getting Sandy's side of the story after all, and he shuddered to think of how the Flash would describe him to someone he thought needed to warned against him...

But he got the feeling these weren't people he'd want to acquaint himself with. "You don't have any a little more reasonable and sane and a little less like they hopped out a horror movie?"

"You die," was the short, if not sweet, answer to what happened when one saw Johnny Sorrow's true face. "You die and it doesn't look like it's pleasant. But yes, he's... about as creepy as they come."

Sandy was considering Hartley's other question (and about to answer it) when the car stopped. He held up a finger and looked out the window before tilting his head at the door to the car. Then he was hopping out and walking around to open the other side for Hartley to walk out.

"We're here."

"Well, he's one person I'll definitely try to avoid then. I'd prefer not to suffer an unpleasant death. Or any kind of death," he said, suddenly hoping none of these villains decided to visit Central City.

When the car stopped, he glanced at Sandy before peering out the window at the brownstone. So this was where Sandy and his team lived. He got out of the car, giving Sandy a nervous smile before looking up at the building again. God, just being there felt like an adventure and he hasn't even seen the inside yet.

"So... this is where you live."

It was, to be fair, a large building. Once the Dodds mansion, Sandy'd donated it when Wes and Dian had passed because if there was one thing a lonely insomniac didn't need, it was a giant empty house. A few people had made certain comments about him buying his way into the JSA (thanks, Al) but it'd been much more about his beliefs in the organization, his utter lack of a desire to own such a massive place, and the needs of the group at the time.

He walked up to the driver and offered a tip, that was politely refused, before the man drove off. Then he gestured for Hartley to follow him before pausing and holding up a finger.

"Okay, you wanted to see the lava stuff?" he offered as he pointed down to a spot hole in the asphalt of the street in front of the building.

Then, after making sure Hartley was far enough away, he leaned down and put his hands to the pavement. The area under his hands turned hot and started to smoke, his hands themselves looking like nothing so much as fresh lava as the pavement churned into place. He breathed in then and, just as quickly, the spot cooled down and set. Fixed. Done.

"I pay my taxes, but this is much quicker."

This building made his own apartment building in Central City look tiny. He could see how it could fit Sandy and so many of his friends. Going inside was bound to be interesting. He wondered how many of Sandy's friends/teammates were inside right now and how many he'd end up meeting. The concern about the risk he was taking by coming here was slowly beginning to flood back in.

Luckily, the reminder that Sandy offered to show him the thing with lava made a really good distraction. He found Sandy's abilities rather fascinating, and he was looking forward to getting to watch him use them again.

"I do believe I mentioned wanting to see the lava stuff, yes," he said, watching curiously as Sandy pointed down at the asphalt.

He looked on in utter amazement as Sandy put his hands to the pavement and the area started to smoke. Hartley had a feeling Heat Wave would have loved to have seen this. But Heat Wave wasn't there, Hartley was. For some reason Sandy was choosing to trust him enough to show him his powers, and it almost made him regret that he had no abilities of his own to show off.

"How long did it take for you to learn how to do that? Are you sure it didn't hurt?"

He stood back up then, dusting off his trousers.

"Learning it?" he admitted, "hurt. But that was the circumstances. Doing it doesn't really bother me nowadays."

He made sure his jacket was arranged to look the least like a superhero costume before he gestured to the front door to the museum. It was pretty clearly labeled "Justice Society of America Museum and Memorial" right on the outside and a few tourists were on their way out, carrying bags from the gift shop and still wearing the little tin badges that showed one had paid for entry.

Hartley followed Sandy to the front door, trying not to stare at the tourists coming out wearing tin badges and carrying bags. Sandy had told him this was a museum, but it was still so strange to see regular people coming out like it was no big deal. Like these heroes were well-known.

Which raised some pretty big questions for him. Like why the hell he only just learned of their existence a few days ago when it apparently wasn't much of a secret.

"Do the tourists know this place is also your headquarters?" was the question Hartley settled on for now.

"It's in the little guide pamphlets, so... if they read, yeah," he admitted as made their way in. And to be fair, it looked like any other museum for the most part. There were glass cases with a variety of weapons, armors, outfits. Statues with original costumes. There were some that were impressive, like a man with a gas mask and a gun raised that looked like it shot anything but bullets in a sharply-cut trench coat. Then there were others that were... a little less so. A glass case with a large hourglass, another with a pair of glasses, and a painting on one wall that was hard to miss.

"This is where we started again, honestly," Sandy said softly, his voice a little sad, a little tired.

"It's a little risky to have that kind of information so readily available," he pointed out. Though to be fair, allowing a man most heroes (the Flash and his ilk, anyway) would consider as villain to come visit was arguably much riskier. But he had to admit the museum was pretty interesting. There was so much history there, behind those glass cases. Some of the costumes were a little odd, but others he had a hard time tearing his eyes away from.

The gas mask was a little creepy (it gave him some major Doctor Who 'are you my mummy' vibes), but it was hard not to find it impressive at the same time. The whole museum was pretty impressive. He looked over at Sandy, observing him for a moment before saying, "It's kind of you and your friends to allow the public to see all of this. This place must hold a lot of memories for you."

He looked over at Hartley at the mention of 'risky' and shrugged.

"We don't do what we do for the security. At least, not our own," but then his eyes were on a few of the outfits, his mind clearly someplace else.

"And there's nothing kind about it. The people who wore these put their blood, sweat, and tears into defending folks here, in the war. We don't have an Arlington. Half of what the All Stars did is so classified, no one'll be hearing about it until we're both dust.

"But I could give them this, at least. Someone remembers."

"Wouldn't everyone knowing where your headquarters is located make it harder to help people?" he asked before realizing Sandy's mind was elsewhere. Apparently on the costumes. Or, more likely, on the people those costumes used to belong to.

He looked at Sandy, watching him and listening silently as Sandy explained why those suits were there.

Sandy's reasoning for the museum made a lot more sense now that he knew it wasn't about pleasing the public. It was about honoring and remembering the people who put their lives at risk and the people who died. It almost made him sorry that he's never heard of any of these people before.

"All Stars?"

"All Star Squadron," he clarified. "It's what they called the lot of us when we were working with the US military during WWII."

He shook off some of the... not nostalgia, but memories. Definitely a lot of heavy memories floating around this place.

"Harder? How're folks who need help going to find us if they don't know where we are?"

"So the JSA isn't the first team you've been part of," he noted. "You know, it's still so strange to think you were around during WWII when you appear younger than I am."

Everything seemed so strange and complicated with Sandy, and Hartley still wasn't sure whether he should treat him like a peer or the senior citizen he apparently was. God, why could the elderly look elderly?

"The Flash tends to go to them. The Arrow too, as far as I know."

"No, the JSA came first," he told Hartley with a faint smile, walking over to one of the plaques. 1940. The founding of the organization.

"But it's had its ups and downs. We've been shut down a time or two. We've gone underground. And, during the period with the All Star Squadron, we were sent overseas. But some of us just keep coming back for more."

Sandy glanced over at Hartley with a smile that was only a little tired.

"Just keep in mind I was in a glass case for most of that. It makes it easier for both of us that way."

Then he was reaching up to put his fingers to the Sandman mask. Then he turned back.

"And of course we take care of the obvious threats, but some of the things we deal with aren't so obvious. Sometimes they're small. Sometimes one person can come to us with what looks like a missing persons case and it turns out that they alerted us to a world-level threat."

He followed Sandy over to the plaque. "It looks like you and your friends seem to have a pretty long history of doing this sort of thing." Which was strange to think about. Sandy was doing this sort of thing long before Hartley was born.

He wasn't sure if that was incredibly impressive or just flat out odd. Perhaps it was both.

Hartley glanced at Sanderson again. "So I shouldn't try to make you my new father figure, then?" he joked. "Darn, and I was so looking forward to calling you daddy," he teased, partially to see if he could make Sandy blush again, and partially to lighten the mood a little.

He watched Sandy put his fingers to the Sandman mask. He wondered if Sandy's mask looked like that. It was so creepy, but also pretty cool.

"I suppose people being able to come to you isn't quite as bad an idea as it initially sounded. I do hope you're careful though."

And blush Sandy did, though he managed to swallow around it and get out a low chuckle.

"Don't call me daddy unless you want to go over my knee," he finally managed to return with only a little pink still on his face.

Then he took in a deep breath.

"But we're as careful as we can be. Just because the security doesn't look like it's there, don't assume it's absent."

Hartley let out a surprised laugh at Sandy's response. He'd been expecting (well, hoping) to make him blush, but this turned out to be a lot more entertaining than he thought it would be. Apparently Sandy did have a sense of humor.

"Careful, that might be exactly what I want," he said with an amused smirk.

Hartley eyed him for a moment. "Good. You never know when a villain might wander on in."

"I hope that isn't your best game, Hartley" Sandy shot back with a bit of a smile before tipping his head towards a door that said 'Authorized Personnel Only'. "Especially when you haven't even gotten me a drink yet."

He started towards the door then.

"Lemme show you up, you can put your things down, and we'll come back down to see the sights."

"My God, you're difficult to scandalize," he murmured, glancing at the door. "But that's okay. I enjoy a challenge. And don't worry, you haven't seen my best game. Yet," he bragged as he followed Sandy to the door.

Putting his stuff down and getting to see the sights sounded like a fantastic idea. He supposed this marked the beginning of his visit.

"Sure, that works for me."

"I played apprentice to the boogeyman," he pointed out with a wry little grin. "But I'm looking forward to see what you've got."

Sandy led him through the door and down a relatively normal looking beige hallway. There were a few different doors, all of which looked like administration offices, and finally an elevator that Sandy pushed the button on.

"As you should," he pointed out. "You're very lucky, you know. I don't generally flirt younger men." Except when he was trolling the Flash. But that turned out to be boring. He barely got a reaction.

Hartley followed Sandy through the door, glancing around as they headed down the hallway. This place was so different from S.T.A.R. Labs. He still wasn't sure what kind of security it had, but he had no doubt it was better than what S.T.A.R. Labs had. Which, admittedly, didn't say much, considering any random could wander into the cortext from off the street.

"Have you ever had any criminals attempt to break into your headquarters?"

He raised an eyebrow at Hartley.

"If you get to meet Ted, ask him about the time the entire Injustice Society decided to drop by while he was taking a bath."

Because that was a 'hell yes'.

The elevator door opened and a pair of silver balls floating in the air made their way out of the elevator before turning down one of the hallways. They were the only ones in the elevator, though.

"After you," and he gestured in with a sweep.

for timetopaythepiper: New York New York

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