A Young Justice Fanfic
Apr. 5th, 2011 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drownedinlightThis is set in the TV cartoon universe. I'll explain more tomorrow.
The Jam Night: Part One: Superboy's Name
He picked up the books when he was out roaming Happy Harbor while the others were away…doing what they did when they weren’t at the mountain. Superboy supposed Robin, Kid Flash, Artimes and M’gann were in school, and, well, he did not know what Aqualad did, but it must have been something similar. And he did not really go to school, because he knew everything they could teach him at this stage, even though Batman, Canary and the others said he still had to keep up with his work through books they gave him, just in case they ever wanted to integrate him into their school system, so he would seem normal he guessed.
That’s why he was at the book store, because if he didn’t pick his spare reading, Canary did, and the last thing he wanted to read was another Victorian romance novel. So he would go out to the bookstores in town and pick up things to read, and Batman would occasionally mutter about getting him a library card. But they never did, because to have a library card, you had to have a name, and an address and a life. Bookstores could be bought in cash.
So, Superboy would wander around the stores picking up new books, and maybe even some music here and there. He was actually in the music section when he saw the glossy cover with the black and white keys on it. It was something he had not taken notice before and decided to pick it up and leaf through it, and placed it with the rest of his books to try out. On his way out, he selected two albums, and stopped by the large display the store had dedicated to babies. One of the hard cover books caught his eye, and he put it on top of the pile before he finally made it to the counter.
They had a piano for probably the same reason they had a flat screen TV—Batman had too much of an interior decorator in him. Mostly, the piano sits alone in its own room, with only a few other instruments for company. Superboy tries out tapping the keys as the book suggests and manages to make something that sounded all right, but it was nothing like he listened too on the albums he buys. He gives up and goes to read some of his other books for a while. But the thin, glossy book for beginner piano players mocks him as it sits on his shelf, and after an hour of reading, he goes back to practice for a bit longer, just until he learns a chord, and M’gann comes back from school.
He begins to practice earlier in the morning, when M’gann is gone to school, and no one is really around. Superboy is not quite sure how, but he manages to practice for at least an hour every day, but most times it’s more, because the piano book keeps telling him he can do more, and by the end of a week, he can manage the simple songs in the back of the book, that only require minor use of his left hand. He goes back to the store with the book in hand, and the girl behind the counter perks up as he walks in.
“Hello, sir,” she said. “Do you need to return that?”
“No, I was just wondering if you had any more stuff like this?” he said. “I, uh, kind of finished with it, and I wanted to learn more.” She blinks at him, then bites her lip and turns to her computer typing in keywords.
“Hmm, I don’t think we have anything you’d really be looking for. But if you buy some stuff today, so I won’t get into trouble with my boss for turning you away, I can give you the address of a good music store that might be able to help. It’s where I go for my guitar stuff.” Superboy feels a smile tug at his lips, and does not try to force it down, like he might when he’s around the team.
“Yeah, okay,” he agrees. When he finishes wandering around the store, he returns to the counter with his pick of books, she hands him an address of a place he thinks he can find down town. “Thank you,” he says as she passes him a plastic bag full of books.
“No problem,” she replies. “Maybe I’ll see you around there when you get good enough. They do a lot of stuff for young artists trying to express their talent. You’ll see when you get there.” She smiles. “Have a nice day, and do come again. I think you personally keep this place running.” Superboy gives a little wave and she waves back.
The walk down town does not take very long, Happy Harbor is not very big, and he might have sped a little. He isn’t sure, but no one saw so that doesn’t really count.
Superboy enters the music store, and feels a tightness seize his chest. It doesn’t feel like an anxiety attack or the like, but maybe like he’s nervous.
“Can I help you?” a tall skinny man asks, after a moment of seeing Superboy wallow in the doorway. He walks right up to Superboy and stand there waiting for an answer.
“Oh, um, yeah, I need, more books like this, but harder,” he said, holding out the beginners piano book. The man nods along and moves toward another part of the store, with many wooden boxes stacked on tables. Superboy is not sure of what to do at first, until the man starts talking, so he catches up quickly.
“Did you just start?” the man asks.
“Yes,” Superboy says. “I got that book last week.” The man looks up squinting, his eyebrows drawn together.
“And you just played through it?” the man asks, his fingers, which look like bone with just a covering of skin, caught in between books in side of the one of the boxes.
“Yeah… is that bad?” Superboy feels like he is tripping over his own voice with the question, but the man pulls a book from the box, and walks over to a piano on display, and motions for Superboy to follow. The man pages through the book, until he finds a song he likes, and places it down on the piano stand.
“Here, play this for me, so I can tell where you are.” Superboy sits down at the piano bench, and he feels like the whole world is watching him. But he plays out the notes, a little slowly, but he thinks he manages to get them all right. The guy nods along as he does so, and stops him about half way through. “Good, that’s actually good. But I think you need a metronome, and maybe a theory book.” The man is back over in the book section before Superboy can blink and returns with two books (a book on theory, and a book with songs that look a little harder that in the book he has now). “I’ll ring you up over here,” the man says waving a small box. He takes the three books, and pays fifty dollars for the four items before he leaves with them. Somehow, he feels a little ripped off.
But he goes back to the piano every morning, sometimes now, after he’s done a few pages in the theory book, which is helping a lot of things make sense. The first book taught him the notes and a few chords, but the theory book explains why things work like that, and soon Superboy can make up things on his own that sound okay. Yet, there’s still so much to explore as he keeps learning more about the piano and music. Like keeping time. The day he bought the metronome, he went home and looked up what it was for, and as it turned out, music was based a lot on math. Keeping time was an important part of making the music sound the way you wanted it to, and it depended not only on how fast you played the music, but the measure of the notes as well, because you could divide the notes into smaller parts. The metronome helped keep the “beat” (or the repeating time and measure of note for each piece) and then you just divined everything up into smaller parts. Of course, he did discover that the metronome he bought needed batteries that they did not keep in Mount Justice, and that they had one in the music room.
It did not stop Superboy from going back to the piano every single day, for that one hour at the least, where he would practice the pieces in the music books he had, to where they sound like he had them right; when they were finally fast enough, or slow enough, and of course when he go the sound of the notes right, which was usually never too hard with the piano, just a matter of making sure the right keys were struck.
When he played through the music books, he would go back to the music store and get more. Superboy learned to stick to the books, rather than what the man tried to sell him, which usually was not much, but all the same, he tried to stay away from buying more than he needed. And every time he went, the man, known sometimes as Mike, would have him sit down and play something that might be a little too hard for him, and then assign him books. At last when he made it to concertos, Mike told him to start picking out his own music from the back of the store.
Some of the pop culture books interested him, but most looked absurdly simple. There were others than were okay, and he would add those to the stacks of classical and contemporary books that the store offered every time he would buy new ones.
Sometimes, Superboy would begin to make up parts of his own songs, or try and figure out how to play how to play the music he would buy at the book store on the piano. And that’s how he got caught in the end, because he learned too quickly, so he tried to learn something knew about this thing he loved (and Mike didn’t help, because he suggested buying a composition note book, lined with grand staffs). And Superboy did figure them out, how to play the songs he liked, and maybe began to write some of his own. But the better he got with the piano, the more time he wanted to spend on it, and when it got to that point, he was playing in the evening sometimes, just to try new things and because he couldn’t stay away.
Naturally, as he was playing one night, and singing along, Wally zoomed in, and plopped himself on one of the chairs.
“Wow, didn’t know you played the piano,” he said, before Superboy knew he was there. His fingers slipped off of the keys, as Wally grinned at him. “That’s cool, I don’t think I’ve heard Lady Gaga play that one on piano though, where’d you get the music for it?”
“Hey Superboy, why’d you stop the music?” Robin asked leaning into the room. M’gann peaks out behind him and adds,
“I really liked it Superboy, what were you playing?”
“It’s one of the Lady Gaga songs,” Wally clarifies. “I can’t remember which one though.”
“Dance in the Dark,” Superboy finally manages to say. “I uh, I listen to it sometimes, so it wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
“You did all that by ear?” Wally asks. “Rob, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“But how would we get the cow back down the stairs?” Robin asks. M’gann and Superboy share a look, because they both don’t get the joke.
“No, Pinky, I’m thinking we should all totally jam together sometimes. Kaldur plays the drums to relax and everything and you play guitar, I could pick up bass, and sing with Superboy!” Wally exclaims. “And I’m sure M’gann and Artemis can sing too, so they could do songs with us.”
“That sounds fun!” M’gann exclaims. Superboy rolls his eyes and closes his composition book, attempting to cut through the room.
“Yeah, and we could call it ‘Conner + the Machine,’” he remarks, as he makes it toward the door. Robin grabs his arm though, and looks at him from behind the shades.
“Who’s Conner?” the boy wonder inquires. Superboy flushes.
“It’s nothing,” he mutters, trying to go out into the hall, but Artemis and Kaldur have decided to join them and are waiting there.
“What’s this about a band?” Artemis asked. “Because if we’re starting one, I have to say, you don’t want to hear me sing, and I actually can play bass. I don’t have one right now, but I can play it.”
“Superboy?” Kaldur’s voice rumbles deep within him, like it always does when he wants to advise and help Superboy, because Superboy does not quite know how to be human yet. “Do you…do you wish to be called Conner?”
“It’s just a name I found in a book they had at the store,” Superboy mutters. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It can, if you want it to,” Kaldur says. “But it is your decision my friend.”
“For what it’s worth, Conner Kent has a nice ring to it,” Robin pipes up. “And then we can finally get you that library card Batman’s always talking about.”
“So…that would make him like Conner-El?” Wally asks. Superboy is lost at this point, his head whirling, when M’gann suggests,
“What about just Con-El?”
“Oh! I like it!” Wally shouts. “With a ‘K’ like ‘Krypton.’”
“What are you talking about?” Superboy asks.
“They’re deciding your name,” Artemis explains. “After all, Superman is called like Kal-El as well as…oh my God, is Superman Clark Kent, like the reporter?”
“Whoops, I don’t think I was supposed to say that,” Robin says. “Forget that, and let’s focus on Superboy—er—Conner. What do you want to be called, exactly? And do you need a middle name?”
“Conner…works, I guess,” Superboy says. “And you said my family name was…Kent?” The team is suddenly full of smiles, and Superboy is sure that if he could he would faint. “Conner Kent,” he repeats.
“Hello, Conner Kent,” Kaldur’ahm greets. He grips Conner’s free arm, squeezing it once, before he deflects the attention off of his friend. “Now, what was this about a band?”
The Jam Night: Part One: Superboy's Name
He picked up the books when he was out roaming Happy Harbor while the others were away…doing what they did when they weren’t at the mountain. Superboy supposed Robin, Kid Flash, Artimes and M’gann were in school, and, well, he did not know what Aqualad did, but it must have been something similar. And he did not really go to school, because he knew everything they could teach him at this stage, even though Batman, Canary and the others said he still had to keep up with his work through books they gave him, just in case they ever wanted to integrate him into their school system, so he would seem normal he guessed.
That’s why he was at the book store, because if he didn’t pick his spare reading, Canary did, and the last thing he wanted to read was another Victorian romance novel. So he would go out to the bookstores in town and pick up things to read, and Batman would occasionally mutter about getting him a library card. But they never did, because to have a library card, you had to have a name, and an address and a life. Bookstores could be bought in cash.
So, Superboy would wander around the stores picking up new books, and maybe even some music here and there. He was actually in the music section when he saw the glossy cover with the black and white keys on it. It was something he had not taken notice before and decided to pick it up and leaf through it, and placed it with the rest of his books to try out. On his way out, he selected two albums, and stopped by the large display the store had dedicated to babies. One of the hard cover books caught his eye, and he put it on top of the pile before he finally made it to the counter.
They had a piano for probably the same reason they had a flat screen TV—Batman had too much of an interior decorator in him. Mostly, the piano sits alone in its own room, with only a few other instruments for company. Superboy tries out tapping the keys as the book suggests and manages to make something that sounded all right, but it was nothing like he listened too on the albums he buys. He gives up and goes to read some of his other books for a while. But the thin, glossy book for beginner piano players mocks him as it sits on his shelf, and after an hour of reading, he goes back to practice for a bit longer, just until he learns a chord, and M’gann comes back from school.
He begins to practice earlier in the morning, when M’gann is gone to school, and no one is really around. Superboy is not quite sure how, but he manages to practice for at least an hour every day, but most times it’s more, because the piano book keeps telling him he can do more, and by the end of a week, he can manage the simple songs in the back of the book, that only require minor use of his left hand. He goes back to the store with the book in hand, and the girl behind the counter perks up as he walks in.
“Hello, sir,” she said. “Do you need to return that?”
“No, I was just wondering if you had any more stuff like this?” he said. “I, uh, kind of finished with it, and I wanted to learn more.” She blinks at him, then bites her lip and turns to her computer typing in keywords.
“Hmm, I don’t think we have anything you’d really be looking for. But if you buy some stuff today, so I won’t get into trouble with my boss for turning you away, I can give you the address of a good music store that might be able to help. It’s where I go for my guitar stuff.” Superboy feels a smile tug at his lips, and does not try to force it down, like he might when he’s around the team.
“Yeah, okay,” he agrees. When he finishes wandering around the store, he returns to the counter with his pick of books, she hands him an address of a place he thinks he can find down town. “Thank you,” he says as she passes him a plastic bag full of books.
“No problem,” she replies. “Maybe I’ll see you around there when you get good enough. They do a lot of stuff for young artists trying to express their talent. You’ll see when you get there.” She smiles. “Have a nice day, and do come again. I think you personally keep this place running.” Superboy gives a little wave and she waves back.
The walk down town does not take very long, Happy Harbor is not very big, and he might have sped a little. He isn’t sure, but no one saw so that doesn’t really count.
Superboy enters the music store, and feels a tightness seize his chest. It doesn’t feel like an anxiety attack or the like, but maybe like he’s nervous.
“Can I help you?” a tall skinny man asks, after a moment of seeing Superboy wallow in the doorway. He walks right up to Superboy and stand there waiting for an answer.
“Oh, um, yeah, I need, more books like this, but harder,” he said, holding out the beginners piano book. The man nods along and moves toward another part of the store, with many wooden boxes stacked on tables. Superboy is not sure of what to do at first, until the man starts talking, so he catches up quickly.
“Did you just start?” the man asks.
“Yes,” Superboy says. “I got that book last week.” The man looks up squinting, his eyebrows drawn together.
“And you just played through it?” the man asks, his fingers, which look like bone with just a covering of skin, caught in between books in side of the one of the boxes.
“Yeah… is that bad?” Superboy feels like he is tripping over his own voice with the question, but the man pulls a book from the box, and walks over to a piano on display, and motions for Superboy to follow. The man pages through the book, until he finds a song he likes, and places it down on the piano stand.
“Here, play this for me, so I can tell where you are.” Superboy sits down at the piano bench, and he feels like the whole world is watching him. But he plays out the notes, a little slowly, but he thinks he manages to get them all right. The guy nods along as he does so, and stops him about half way through. “Good, that’s actually good. But I think you need a metronome, and maybe a theory book.” The man is back over in the book section before Superboy can blink and returns with two books (a book on theory, and a book with songs that look a little harder that in the book he has now). “I’ll ring you up over here,” the man says waving a small box. He takes the three books, and pays fifty dollars for the four items before he leaves with them. Somehow, he feels a little ripped off.
But he goes back to the piano every morning, sometimes now, after he’s done a few pages in the theory book, which is helping a lot of things make sense. The first book taught him the notes and a few chords, but the theory book explains why things work like that, and soon Superboy can make up things on his own that sound okay. Yet, there’s still so much to explore as he keeps learning more about the piano and music. Like keeping time. The day he bought the metronome, he went home and looked up what it was for, and as it turned out, music was based a lot on math. Keeping time was an important part of making the music sound the way you wanted it to, and it depended not only on how fast you played the music, but the measure of the notes as well, because you could divide the notes into smaller parts. The metronome helped keep the “beat” (or the repeating time and measure of note for each piece) and then you just divined everything up into smaller parts. Of course, he did discover that the metronome he bought needed batteries that they did not keep in Mount Justice, and that they had one in the music room.
It did not stop Superboy from going back to the piano every single day, for that one hour at the least, where he would practice the pieces in the music books he had, to where they sound like he had them right; when they were finally fast enough, or slow enough, and of course when he go the sound of the notes right, which was usually never too hard with the piano, just a matter of making sure the right keys were struck.
When he played through the music books, he would go back to the music store and get more. Superboy learned to stick to the books, rather than what the man tried to sell him, which usually was not much, but all the same, he tried to stay away from buying more than he needed. And every time he went, the man, known sometimes as Mike, would have him sit down and play something that might be a little too hard for him, and then assign him books. At last when he made it to concertos, Mike told him to start picking out his own music from the back of the store.
Some of the pop culture books interested him, but most looked absurdly simple. There were others than were okay, and he would add those to the stacks of classical and contemporary books that the store offered every time he would buy new ones.
Sometimes, Superboy would begin to make up parts of his own songs, or try and figure out how to play how to play the music he would buy at the book store on the piano. And that’s how he got caught in the end, because he learned too quickly, so he tried to learn something knew about this thing he loved (and Mike didn’t help, because he suggested buying a composition note book, lined with grand staffs). And Superboy did figure them out, how to play the songs he liked, and maybe began to write some of his own. But the better he got with the piano, the more time he wanted to spend on it, and when it got to that point, he was playing in the evening sometimes, just to try new things and because he couldn’t stay away.
Naturally, as he was playing one night, and singing along, Wally zoomed in, and plopped himself on one of the chairs.
“Wow, didn’t know you played the piano,” he said, before Superboy knew he was there. His fingers slipped off of the keys, as Wally grinned at him. “That’s cool, I don’t think I’ve heard Lady Gaga play that one on piano though, where’d you get the music for it?”
“Hey Superboy, why’d you stop the music?” Robin asked leaning into the room. M’gann peaks out behind him and adds,
“I really liked it Superboy, what were you playing?”
“It’s one of the Lady Gaga songs,” Wally clarifies. “I can’t remember which one though.”
“Dance in the Dark,” Superboy finally manages to say. “I uh, I listen to it sometimes, so it wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
“You did all that by ear?” Wally asks. “Rob, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“But how would we get the cow back down the stairs?” Robin asks. M’gann and Superboy share a look, because they both don’t get the joke.
“No, Pinky, I’m thinking we should all totally jam together sometimes. Kaldur plays the drums to relax and everything and you play guitar, I could pick up bass, and sing with Superboy!” Wally exclaims. “And I’m sure M’gann and Artemis can sing too, so they could do songs with us.”
“That sounds fun!” M’gann exclaims. Superboy rolls his eyes and closes his composition book, attempting to cut through the room.
“Yeah, and we could call it ‘Conner + the Machine,’” he remarks, as he makes it toward the door. Robin grabs his arm though, and looks at him from behind the shades.
“Who’s Conner?” the boy wonder inquires. Superboy flushes.
“It’s nothing,” he mutters, trying to go out into the hall, but Artemis and Kaldur have decided to join them and are waiting there.
“What’s this about a band?” Artemis asked. “Because if we’re starting one, I have to say, you don’t want to hear me sing, and I actually can play bass. I don’t have one right now, but I can play it.”
“Superboy?” Kaldur’s voice rumbles deep within him, like it always does when he wants to advise and help Superboy, because Superboy does not quite know how to be human yet. “Do you…do you wish to be called Conner?”
“It’s just a name I found in a book they had at the store,” Superboy mutters. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It can, if you want it to,” Kaldur says. “But it is your decision my friend.”
“For what it’s worth, Conner Kent has a nice ring to it,” Robin pipes up. “And then we can finally get you that library card Batman’s always talking about.”
“So…that would make him like Conner-El?” Wally asks. Superboy is lost at this point, his head whirling, when M’gann suggests,
“What about just Con-El?”
“Oh! I like it!” Wally shouts. “With a ‘K’ like ‘Krypton.’”
“What are you talking about?” Superboy asks.
“They’re deciding your name,” Artemis explains. “After all, Superman is called like Kal-El as well as…oh my God, is Superman Clark Kent, like the reporter?”
“Whoops, I don’t think I was supposed to say that,” Robin says. “Forget that, and let’s focus on Superboy—er—Conner. What do you want to be called, exactly? And do you need a middle name?”
“Conner…works, I guess,” Superboy says. “And you said my family name was…Kent?” The team is suddenly full of smiles, and Superboy is sure that if he could he would faint. “Conner Kent,” he repeats.
“Hello, Conner Kent,” Kaldur’ahm greets. He grips Conner’s free arm, squeezing it once, before he deflects the attention off of his friend. “Now, what was this about a band?”
