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seriousficTitle: Ten Things I Hate About Darkseid 2/?
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Kon/Knockout, implied Tim/Kon, Granny Goodness, eventual Scott/Barda
Word Count: 1,135
Series: Ten Things I Hate About Darkseid
Summary: Mission: Find Barda a boyfriend. Phase 1: Find someone who’d want to date Barda.
Previous part.
The Aero-Trooper training grounds were one of the few patches of dirt on Apokolips. Infertile, of course, and watered with river run-off into constant mud. It made the hard landings of Aero-Trooper training slightly softer. Your broken bones might stay inside your skin instead of poking out of it.
Barda wandered through the grounds, casually disciplining the trainees. It was boring work, but she preferred it to war. As much as she hungered for battle, she hated destroying cities and enslaving populations. She didn’t dare let on to her superiors, but there it was.
The training ground was much better. It had all the vestments of war, with none of the unpleasant aftertaste. Teaching something had all the flavor victory was supposed to.
“You know what I hate about men?” she opined to Lashina as they corrected a trainee’s stance. “I’ve never met one.”
“Barda, you’re too hung up on this real man garbage. Just pick a few Parademons out of the neutering line and go to town.”
“I refuse to settle for that.”
“It’s not healthy relying on your Mega-Rod as much as you do. You’re getting too attached to it. You know naming it is one of the warning signs…”
”You leave Slade out of this. If there were a man who listened half as well as my Mega-Rod did…”
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right guy yet,” one of the trainees piped up.
Barda squinted at him. “What’s your name, cadet?”
“Scott Free, ma’am.”
“Drop and give me fifty, Scott-Free-Ma’am!”
Knockout and Kon watched in horror as she put a boot on Scott’s back in the middle of his tenth push-up.
“Maybe if we told Granny that Barda was in love with her Mega-Rod…”
“No.”
“Or with causing pain…”
“No!” Knockout cranked Kon’s head toward her. “It has to be a real man.”
“And who counts as a real man in her messed-up world? Genghis Khan?”
“I think even Genghis would be put off by her drill sergeant act.”
“Nah, she has this kind of Amazon appeal. Like, she’ll beat you up, but then she’ll carry you off on her shoulder and have her way with you.” Knockout looked at him askew. “Not that I’ve put much thought into it.”
“Pull your head out of the clouds, pup. Barda’s going to her locker. Maybe that will give us some insight into her personality.”
“She has a personality? I thought it was just a voice that told her to hit things.”
Knockout and Kon looked closely through their binoculars as Barda opened her locker. On the inside of the door was a pin-up of a staff-length Mega-Rod. But on the back of the locker, scotch-taped between a clothes hanger holding a full set of armor (it was bent to near breaking) and a clothes hanger holding two strips of cloth that might’ve been mistaken for a bikini were a woman wearing them, was a letter.
Barda ripped it down, looking around frantically. “Another letter! When I find out who’s been leaving these inside my locker, I’m going to break bones inside of them!”
No one met her eyes. Satisfied, she stuffed the letter into her pocket and stalked off.
Kon and Knockout looked at each other, all smiles.
“Score,” Kon said, and held his hand up. “Up high.”
Slap.
“Down low!”
Slap.
“Too slo—“
SLAP!
“We have to find out who’s leaving those love letters,” Knockout said. “Once we do, we can… are you crying?”
“N-n-no.”
***
Metron technically wasn’t allowed on Apokolips, but then neither was hope, laughter, and jelly donuts, yet Apokolips had plenty of jelly donuts.
Knockout and Kon found him on top of a statue of Darkseid, staring out at the world in all its bleak splendor.
“I wonder what deep mysteries he could be contemplating, this galaxy of information made flesh. What conundrum could be vexing his peerless knowledge?” Knockout asked, awestruck.
“He’s probably just thinking about girls.”
“I can hear you,” Metron said smugly. “I hear all, see all, know all.”
“Really? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll pop?”
”Precise four hundred and forty-four.”
“My… God,” Kon whispered.
Knockout stepped forward boldly, puffing her chest out (not that she needed to). “Knowledge-seeker, we would have enlightenment from you. Give us yonder ‘411’ and your blood shall continue to pump.”
“Foolish youth, Darkseid himself cannot harm me. What devising could you bring upon me that his evil could not?”
“My lover has tactile telekinesis, the ability to physically influence anything he touches… I’m sorry, you usually say that, don’t you Superbear?”
“That’s alright, you can say it as much as you like.” Kon licked his lips torpidly. “Only slower and while moaning a little.”
Metron slapped his forehead while Knockout looked Kon up and down. Superboy grinned nervously. The Fury mouthed “tactile telekinesis.” Kon’s knees shook.
“Maybe after I am done torturing this guy for information…”
“Hey, hon, just a thought… let’s try resolving this with words instead of violence.”
Knockout nodded, then as soon as Kon’s back was turned she faced Metron and circled her finger by her ear in the quite-literally-universal signal for crazy. Krazy, even.
“M—can I call you M?”
“No.”
“Metron… do you know who’s leaving love notes in Big Barda’s locker?”
“Yes.”
“Will you tell me?”
“No.”
Kon planted his fists at his waist. “Why not?”
“It would go against my sacred vow of noninterference.”
“Since when do you have a sacred vow of noninterference, illiteracy-fucker?” Knockout demanded.
Metron blistered at being called by such an odious insult. “All the other nigh-omnipotent beings were doing it. The Watchers, the Time Lords…”
“If the Time Lords all jumped off a bridge, would you?”
Kon stepped in front of her. “Metron, if you tell us who wrote that love note, I’ll tell you something that only I in all the universe know.”
“Foolish youth—“
”You already called me that.”
“Ignorant mortal!--” “Thanks.” “--What could you possibly know that I do not?”
Kon crossed his arms. “I’m thinking of a number between one and ten.”
“You cannot expect so idiotic a ploy to possibly work on me. Is it five?”
“Not telling. But it could be.”
Kon and Metron broke into an impromptu staring contest. Kon dramatically whipping his Lennon sunglasses off at the opportune moment gave him the advantage. Metron sweated bullets. Knockout crossed her arms and stood next to Kon, giving her most Apokoliptian glare.
Metron caved. He had no choice in the matter.
“It’s Scott Free! Scott Free is slipping love letters into Barda’s locker!”
Kon put his sunglasses back on. “Thanks.”
He smartly walked away, Knockout in tow.
“Wait! What was the number between one and ten?”
Kon looked over his shoulder, lowering his sunglasses. “Eleven… bitch.”
Next part.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Kon/Knockout, implied Tim/Kon, Granny Goodness, eventual Scott/Barda
Word Count: 1,135
Series: Ten Things I Hate About Darkseid
Summary: Mission: Find Barda a boyfriend. Phase 1: Find someone who’d want to date Barda.
Previous part.
The Aero-Trooper training grounds were one of the few patches of dirt on Apokolips. Infertile, of course, and watered with river run-off into constant mud. It made the hard landings of Aero-Trooper training slightly softer. Your broken bones might stay inside your skin instead of poking out of it.
Barda wandered through the grounds, casually disciplining the trainees. It was boring work, but she preferred it to war. As much as she hungered for battle, she hated destroying cities and enslaving populations. She didn’t dare let on to her superiors, but there it was.
The training ground was much better. It had all the vestments of war, with none of the unpleasant aftertaste. Teaching something had all the flavor victory was supposed to.
“You know what I hate about men?” she opined to Lashina as they corrected a trainee’s stance. “I’ve never met one.”
“Barda, you’re too hung up on this real man garbage. Just pick a few Parademons out of the neutering line and go to town.”
“I refuse to settle for that.”
“It’s not healthy relying on your Mega-Rod as much as you do. You’re getting too attached to it. You know naming it is one of the warning signs…”
”You leave Slade out of this. If there were a man who listened half as well as my Mega-Rod did…”
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right guy yet,” one of the trainees piped up.
Barda squinted at him. “What’s your name, cadet?”
“Scott Free, ma’am.”
“Drop and give me fifty, Scott-Free-Ma’am!”
Knockout and Kon watched in horror as she put a boot on Scott’s back in the middle of his tenth push-up.
“Maybe if we told Granny that Barda was in love with her Mega-Rod…”
“No.”
“Or with causing pain…”
“No!” Knockout cranked Kon’s head toward her. “It has to be a real man.”
“And who counts as a real man in her messed-up world? Genghis Khan?”
“I think even Genghis would be put off by her drill sergeant act.”
“Nah, she has this kind of Amazon appeal. Like, she’ll beat you up, but then she’ll carry you off on her shoulder and have her way with you.” Knockout looked at him askew. “Not that I’ve put much thought into it.”
“Pull your head out of the clouds, pup. Barda’s going to her locker. Maybe that will give us some insight into her personality.”
“She has a personality? I thought it was just a voice that told her to hit things.”
Knockout and Kon looked closely through their binoculars as Barda opened her locker. On the inside of the door was a pin-up of a staff-length Mega-Rod. But on the back of the locker, scotch-taped between a clothes hanger holding a full set of armor (it was bent to near breaking) and a clothes hanger holding two strips of cloth that might’ve been mistaken for a bikini were a woman wearing them, was a letter.
Barda ripped it down, looking around frantically. “Another letter! When I find out who’s been leaving these inside my locker, I’m going to break bones inside of them!”
No one met her eyes. Satisfied, she stuffed the letter into her pocket and stalked off.
Kon and Knockout looked at each other, all smiles.
“Score,” Kon said, and held his hand up. “Up high.”
Slap.
“Down low!”
Slap.
“Too slo—“
SLAP!
“We have to find out who’s leaving those love letters,” Knockout said. “Once we do, we can… are you crying?”
“N-n-no.”
***
Metron technically wasn’t allowed on Apokolips, but then neither was hope, laughter, and jelly donuts, yet Apokolips had plenty of jelly donuts.
Knockout and Kon found him on top of a statue of Darkseid, staring out at the world in all its bleak splendor.
“I wonder what deep mysteries he could be contemplating, this galaxy of information made flesh. What conundrum could be vexing his peerless knowledge?” Knockout asked, awestruck.
“He’s probably just thinking about girls.”
“I can hear you,” Metron said smugly. “I hear all, see all, know all.”
“Really? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll pop?”
”Precise four hundred and forty-four.”
“My… God,” Kon whispered.
Knockout stepped forward boldly, puffing her chest out (not that she needed to). “Knowledge-seeker, we would have enlightenment from you. Give us yonder ‘411’ and your blood shall continue to pump.”
“Foolish youth, Darkseid himself cannot harm me. What devising could you bring upon me that his evil could not?”
“My lover has tactile telekinesis, the ability to physically influence anything he touches… I’m sorry, you usually say that, don’t you Superbear?”
“That’s alright, you can say it as much as you like.” Kon licked his lips torpidly. “Only slower and while moaning a little.”
Metron slapped his forehead while Knockout looked Kon up and down. Superboy grinned nervously. The Fury mouthed “tactile telekinesis.” Kon’s knees shook.
“Maybe after I am done torturing this guy for information…”
“Hey, hon, just a thought… let’s try resolving this with words instead of violence.”
Knockout nodded, then as soon as Kon’s back was turned she faced Metron and circled her finger by her ear in the quite-literally-universal signal for crazy. Krazy, even.
“M—can I call you M?”
“No.”
“Metron… do you know who’s leaving love notes in Big Barda’s locker?”
“Yes.”
“Will you tell me?”
“No.”
Kon planted his fists at his waist. “Why not?”
“It would go against my sacred vow of noninterference.”
“Since when do you have a sacred vow of noninterference, illiteracy-fucker?” Knockout demanded.
Metron blistered at being called by such an odious insult. “All the other nigh-omnipotent beings were doing it. The Watchers, the Time Lords…”
“If the Time Lords all jumped off a bridge, would you?”
Kon stepped in front of her. “Metron, if you tell us who wrote that love note, I’ll tell you something that only I in all the universe know.”
“Foolish youth—“
”You already called me that.”
“Ignorant mortal!--” “Thanks.” “--What could you possibly know that I do not?”
Kon crossed his arms. “I’m thinking of a number between one and ten.”
“You cannot expect so idiotic a ploy to possibly work on me. Is it five?”
“Not telling. But it could be.”
Kon and Metron broke into an impromptu staring contest. Kon dramatically whipping his Lennon sunglasses off at the opportune moment gave him the advantage. Metron sweated bullets. Knockout crossed her arms and stood next to Kon, giving her most Apokoliptian glare.
Metron caved. He had no choice in the matter.
“It’s Scott Free! Scott Free is slipping love letters into Barda’s locker!”
Kon put his sunglasses back on. “Thanks.”
He smartly walked away, Knockout in tow.
“Wait! What was the number between one and ten?”
Kon looked over his shoulder, lowering his sunglasses. “Eleven… bitch.”
Next part.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-05-02 02:08 pm (UTC)“You cannot expect so idiotic a ploy to possibly work on me. Is it five?”
Wow, Metron's easily defeated!
Also, yes! Scott!
no subject
Date: 2008-05-04 06:24 pm (UTC)Also, cracktastic to the extreme. Yay!
no subject
Date: 2008-05-07 06:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-13 02:08 am (UTC)And yeah, for a guy who claims to be all-knowing, Metron is really kind of a dork, isn't he?