Disclaimer: This is the first chapter in a story about an "other world" based on the Arrowverse, the CW shows that focus on DC superheroes. I am writing this as my way of paying homage to my fandom for the Arrowverse. The character names Supergirl, Green Arrow, The Flash, Canary and Brainiac are trademarks of DC Comics. These chapters are free to read, they will not be published in book format, nor will any revenue be generated from the chapters. If there are legal issues involved with the usage of these characters, please email me at bwmorris at mail dot com and I will cease with the writing. Critiquing of my writing is welcomed and may be left in the comments.
My boots are soaked, the stench of that dirty water lingering in my nose. Wading through the sewers was the last thing I expected to do upon meeting the hero who does his work in daylight. George Mortensen asked me to stay in the basement of his office building -- it's filled with all sorts of shelves, cabinets, counter tops and computer equipment. Though I understand George's explanations, that it may not be so easy for people to trust me, I can't help but wonder if he's not quite the man I thought he would be.
I lean back in this strange chair -- never i I imagine they would put wheels on something they would use for sitting. Plus it swivels each time I shift position. At least the cushioned surface provides comfort. But the only reason I remain seated is because I want to trust the man who calls himself Green Arrow. Even after he dragged me through what seemed like miles of those pipes filled with dirty water, I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. The way he stared back at me with those brown eyes of his, it reminded me about my husband and how I knew he would never lead me astray.
When I pivot the chair around, I face a giant widescreen on which those news broadcasts air. A male individual is seated opposite a female. The male, who has short, brown hair parted to one side, keeps talking about this artificial intelligence he wants to develop. How he believes it will track any threats around the earth and stop them before they cause damage. The male is identified as Warren Hosills, the founder of Frontier Technologies.
The more he talks, the more my interest rises. The artifical intelligence sounds a lot like Brainiac -- the same system Kryptonians developed for the planet's defenses and environment. A thought crosses my mind about whether I should have gone to Central City, the place they identified as the location of Hosills' company. Of course, that would mean tracking down that speedster who only comes out at night. And because I want to open myself to this world after years in isolation, I don't think I can do that with somebody who seems to hide in the shadows.
I lean back and my chair rolls toward the counter, causing me to swing my arm to the side to stop the chair's movement. My hand brushes against something and I hear a small clatter. Glancing over my shoulder, I notice I knocked over a black frame of some sort. There's a picture inside. When I pick it up, I stare back at George and another woman. She has blonde hair and blue eyes like mine. The two have their arms around each other and warm smiles on their faces. Sure looks like George has someone special in his life. Examining the framed picture, I wonder if I might ever find someone special again -- or if I could ever find a special relationship with any of these Earth natives.
The sound of footsteps interrupt my thoughts. Swiveling the chair around, I notice George walk into the room. He has changed his outfit -- no longer does he wear that hooded green jacket, black pants and mask. Now Mortensen is dressed in a gray suit coat and pants, a white button down shirt and a red tie. He gives a nod in my direction. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Had a board meeting to attend."
I raise my eyebrows. "How do you do it?"
"How do I do what?"
I gesture with my left arm and twirl my finger. "Monitor everything that's going on in Star City and find time to run this company of yours?"
A quick smile forms on his lips. "I have a lot of help from my sister. She's the glue that holds it all together." He walks around the counter, lined with all sorts of monitors and scanners. Along one wall, there's a rack with multiple bows, a glass cabinet with many kinds of arrows shelved inside, and some sort of apparatus upon which the Green Arrow's hooded jacket, pants and mask rest.
Mortensen comes around the counter and gestures at me. "I see you've taken an interest in that."
The framed picture is still in my hands. "I'm sorry. I knocked it over and was curious." I hold out the picture toward him. "Who is this?"
"She was my wife."
He said was. A pit forms in my stomach. "What happened to her?"
George takes a deep breath. "She was diagnosed with heart cancer. There was no cure. She died nearly five years ago." He takes the framed picture from me and stares at it. His eyes show a hint of sadness.
I rise to my feet. "I'm sorry to hear that." Part of me wants to embrace him, comfort him over the loss of a loved one. And she looked so young. George looks so young, too. Never would I imagine that the first person I'd meet on this planet would be like me in a way -- losing somebody special when you thought you'd have a lifetime of happiness together.
George takes the framed picture and places it back on the counter. "I think about her every day. That's why I do the things I do -- I want to honor her memory. Do what's right for the people of Star City." He glances toward the widescreen for a moment, then turns his head back to me. "Are you all right?"
He must have noticed me rubbing my eye. "It's just that I lost my husband, too," I say.
"Yes, on that planet you said exploded." Mortensen grabs another wheeled chair and sits down. "I can't imagine what it must be like to be the sole survivor of your planet."
I stare back at him for a moment. Why do I still have this urge to embrace him? I barely know this being. Besides, I need to remember the real reason I sought him out. "Yes, and that's why I need your help. I'm wondering if I may not be the only survivor."
He clasps his hands in his lap. "What exactly is this thing you said you were looking for?"
Before I can answer, I notice at the far end of the room a pair of doors sliding open. Out steps a female wearing a red dress with a small, black belt strapped around her waist. Her dark brown hair is short, going a little past her ears. She carries two white paper bags. The aroma of what seems like different kinds of food mixed together fills the air.
"I'm back with extra, George, because you said..." The woman walks toward the counter, but stops, her eyes widening a bit. She sizes me up. "You weren't kidding that you had company." She sets the bags aside on the counter and makes her way right to me. "Nice cape. Makes you look like the type who wants to make a grand entrance."
George gestures toward this woman. "Tara Nim-El, this is my sister, Cissie."
I study Cissie, who stares back at me, like she's in awe of my presence. Her eyes keep moving up and down. A hand goes up to her chin and she gestures toward my chest. "What's with the S there?"
"On my planet, it's not an S," I say. "It's the symbol of the House of El."
Cissie's smile gets a little wider. "I was about to say that you look a lot like a Supergirl. Act like one, too, given what my brother was telling me."
Supergirl. Not sure where Cissie came up with that one. I don't think of myself as a girl any longer. But the way she smiles, the way she says those words, I can't bring myself to question her. "Only doing what was necessary to protect him. Much like I understand your brother does for this city."
Cissie nods toward her brother. "Don't talk that up too much. Wouldn't want anything to go to his head."
George has risen from his seat. "You know I won't let that happen." He walks toward the bags on the counter and opens one up. "Are you hungry, Tara? I don't know what you eat on Krypton -- or what you've eaten since you came here."
The food's aroma grows stronger and I think I hear my stomach growl. "Been living mostly on what you call penguins for three of your earth years."
Cissie's eyes grow wide. "Penguins? Really?"
"I would have tried to eat some plants, but couldn't find much in the way of such life where I was."
George has pulled an object wrapped in silver foil from the bag. "Well, around here, we don't eat penguins, though we have been known to dine on other birds from time to time." He hands the wrapped object to me. "But perhaps you'll take a liking to this."
I peel back the silver wrapper and examine the dark meat and other ingredients wedged between what looks like some type of bread. "What is this?"
Cissie gets a smile on her face. "It's Big Belly Burger. Quite popular with us Mortensens." She takes wrapped food from her brother.
Pulling this burger to my nose, I take a whiff. The pleasing scent overwhelms me and it's not long before I sink my teeth into the food. The meat is juicy and the rest of the ingredients have different textures that I recognize as plants. "Mmm... this is good." I take another bite.
George has his own burger and opens the other bag. "Wait until you try French fries." He grabs the chair he was sitting in, pulls it closer to the counter and sits back down. "Now, can you start from the beginning about what happened to you?"
The three of us dine on the burgers and fries while I explain everything. About my journey to Earth, staying in isolation on what they call Antarctica for three years, detecting Brainiac and what it was designed for, my decision to come out of hiding. I gesture to the widescreen. "I need your help to get to Washington D.C., so I can find out who has Kryptonian technology and how they got it."
George pops a fry into his mouth and cocks his head. "It may not be that easy. Not like you can just show up in Washington D.C. and pull aside any leader you want."
"And why is that? Wouldn't the leaders on this planet be concerned about somebody having such technology?"
George shakes his head. "Washington D.C. has a lot of people who tend to be secretive or set in their ways. Believe me, I've dealt with a number of those types in my work as CEO. They don't always listen to reason -- and if they have any sort of Kryptonian technology, or knew about it, I doubt I could get them to admit it."
I finish off a fry, the salty taste lingering on my tongue. "At least find me somebody I can talk to. My home planet's technology is more advanced than anything I've noticed on Earth. Besides, if there's any chance for me to find out if one of my fellow Kryptonians survivied..." I notice George nodding, like he wants to understand, but his eyes suggest there's nothing he can do for me. "I came to you because I thought you could help me."
George sighs. "Look, it's not that simple. I want to help -- I really do. But there's so many things about our nation's capital that you don't understand. Any sort of technological advantage our government gets, they aren't willing to talk about it, because they worry too much about it falling into the wrong hands."
I stare at the half-eaten burger in my hand. Perhaps this was a mistake. The man who calls himself the Green Arrow doesn't sound that helpful. If he were anything like my late husband, he would go right up to these leaders and tell him exactly what was happening and what needed to be done. Even if my world's leaders refused to believe that Krypton was doomed, my husband knew he had to speak up and do whatever it took to convince him.
Just as I'm ready to rise from my chair and say I will take care of things myself, Cissie holds up her hand. "Look, George, you do have one contact in Washington. Maybe he could help."
George casts a glance at his sister. "You mean Mark Gregory?"
"Well, yeah." Cissie takes a bite of her burger, swallows and dabs her lips with a paper napkin. "You and he do go way back. Attended the same college, share the same values, believe in helping the little guy -- and he is serving in Congress now. I'm sure he'd be willing to help."
George folds his hands and presses them against his chin. He appears to be deep in thought. After a moment, he brings his arms down and relaxes his posture. "All right. I can contact Mark Gregory." He gestures toward me. "I'll see what he can tell me -- if anything. All I ask is that you promise to give me time to do so."
Though George doesn't seem to share the persistence that my husband had, his tone erases some of my doubts. Perhaps I should give him a chance. "All right. Thank you."
He gets out of his chair. "In the meantime, my sister will help you to blend in more."
My gaze shifts toward Cissie. "What is he talking about?"
Cissie has a slight smile on her lips. "Well, as much as that outfit might represent the next fashion trend, I've got some ideas for outfits that are more in line with what most people wear." She walks over toward me and wrinkles her nose. "And don't take this the wrong way, but you could use a shower and your outfit could use some washing."
I raise my sleeved arm toward my nose and sniff. The pleasing scents of the burgers and fries made me forget the rancid odor that remains in my clothes.
Cissie nudges me with her elbow. "If it makes you feel better, my brother has, on more than one occasion, come back smelling like a sewer." She casts her gaze toward George and winks.
George chuckles. "Ignore my sister. We'll do everything we can for you. Perhaps you'll learn soon to call this planet your new home."
I nod. "Thank you." Raising the burger to my mouth, I take another bite. My attention is pulled back to the widescreen and I'm reminded of something. "Do you know anything about Warren Hosills and Frontier Technologies?"
George has finished his food and shoves the wrapper into one of the bags. "I've met Hosills a couple of times. Why?"
The way George spoke, I can tell Warren is somebody he wants nothing to do with. "Just curious. If you think this Gregory person can help us, that will be fine."
"I will work on that." George crumples the bag in his hand and tosses into a nearby basket. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another client to meet with." He walks toward those sliding doors toward the back and pushes a button. After a minute, the door opens and he steps inside. I finish the last of my burger as I watch the door close behind him.
Cissie gestures toward the counter at some fries piled on a napkin. "Are you going to finish those?"
I glance at the food. "Maybe later. You may be right -- a shower would be a good idea."
Cissie motions for me to follow her. "Then come with me. Don't worry, this won't take long. I've got the perfect outfit for you."
I wad the wrapper in my hand. Tossing the wrapper into the bag, I cast a cursory nod toward Cissie. "Lead the way."
Though I'm not sure what Cissie means by the perfect outfit, I sense I can trust her. Now all I need to hope is that George will come through for me.
To be continued in Chapter 6.
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