Chương 9: Heading to Gotham

Kaelvorn didn't nod right away, and he didn't shut it down on the spot either. He just rubbed his fingers together, working off the last of the fish slime still stuck to his palm. Any question that came out of nowhere had something underneath it, even from someone who'd been decent to him for seven straight days.

"Why ask that all of a sudden?" His voice stayed even. Nothing in it gave anything away.

"Superhero. Way I see it, that's just a label you people use to sort out your 'special cases.'" Tom set the rod down, dug a clean rag out of the cabin, and started wiping the water spots off the rail without any urgency at all. He didn't answer until the rail was spotless. Only then did he turn back to face Kaelvorn.

"You want to build a life here. Long term. Right?" Tom's voice stayed gentle, but there was a certainty under it that didn't leave much room to dodge. Kaelvorn tipped his head, just barely. Getting off Viltrum in the first place had been about escaping the killing, finding somewhere he could actually settle. This Earth was an unknown quantity, but it was still, in some sense, the "home" his mind had never let go of. Right now it was the best option on the table.

"Building something long term means you need papers. Legal standing." Tom's voice dropped a register.

"No status, you can't work, can't move around normally. But the bigger problem than having no papers is what you actually are." He paused, his eyes settling on the faint scars across Kaelvorn's chest, then kept going.

"Your civilization's whole worldview runs against pretty much everything Earth stands for."

"Right now barely anyone knows you exist. But the day more people find out where you're from, how do you think they're going to look at you?" Kaelvorn's eyelids came down a fraction. He already knew the answer. If Viltrum's reputation for savagery ever got out in full, Earth wasn't going to make room for him easily.

"Think about Superman." Tom brought up the man who'd saved him.

"You know he's never dodged the question in any interview. His homeworld's gone. No threat standing behind him at all."

"And he grew up here, raised with genuine goodwill toward people down to the bone. Even so, how many people actually accepted him?" On the news, red-and-blue Superman was always first into a disaster, first to pull someone out. And the comment sections were never short on doubt. Some people called him an alien plant. Some worried he'd snap one day and take the planet down with him. A few were openly calling for the government to put him on a leash. Kaelvorn's brow drew in. He understood the logic fine.

If he were standing where an ordinary Earth resident stood, with zero knowledge of what Superman actually was, he'd be worried too. Except his own starting position would naturally get filed somewhere worse than Superman's.

"He's strong enough to sit above pretty much any law or rule this planet has." There was something almost wistful in Tom's voice.

"Same as you today, out there fishing. Didn't matter if you meant to bring back lunch or just wanted to feel what it was like. Every fish that got close to you panicked and ran, and a few of them got crushed without you meaning it at all."

"Your strength and his work the same way." Tom pointed out at the flat, quiet water.

"Unless you plan on never using your abilities again. Living like me, up at sunrise, done at sunset. Can you actually do that?" Kaelvorn looked down at his own hand, closed into a fist without him noticing. This strength had been forged in Viltrum's blood and fire. It was the whole foundation of how he'd survived this long. Giving it up now would be as hard as giving up breathing. Stolen story; please report. And if Viltrum's hunters ever tracked him down, no strength meant no say in what happened to him.

"When you were up there flying, looking down at the water, those fish had no idea what you were about to do. But their whole future had already shifted just because you existed near them."

"Using your ability puts you in that same position, up high looking down. If you want regular people to stop being afraid of you, stop pushing you out, you have to hand them a reason to accept you instead."

"Superhero. That's the reason." Tom finally said the actual point out loud. It was proof, delivered through action, that this kind of strength wasn't a threat. It was protection.

"It's not an easy road, obviously. You'll run into more doubt and more attacks than you can count. But it's the one that fits you best right now." Kaelvorn stood on the deck, looking out at the endless water, and went quiet. Tom's logic held up. If he wanted a stable life here, he had two gaps to close: alien, and Viltrumite. But the second he pictured himself living like the Superman on TV, duty-bound to protect people around the clock, something in him recoiled without asking permission.

Getting off Viltrum had been about escaping a life owned by someone else. He wasn't interested in dying for anyone or anything else's cause, ever again. The wind kept blowing, and Kaelvorn didn't say anything for a long time. Tom didn't push. He just picked the rod back up and fished in silence, like the whole conversation had been nothing more than idle chatter. Not until the sun dropped low, painting the water gold and red, did Kaelvorn finally speak, some uncertainty still in his voice.

"I need to think about it more."

"That's fine. You've got all the time you need." Tom set the rod down, and something gentle crossed his face, though there was a little more mischief in it now than before.

"One thing I do need to be straight with you about, though. I'm just a small-time fisherman. I can't feed you forever." Kaelvorn blinked, then caught up. Tom was pushing him toward a decision without saying so directly, and reminding him at the same time that this little harbor couldn't be his hiding place forever. He nodded, no argument in it.

"I can point you toward someone. Might be able to sort out your status situation, at least for a while." Tom started packing up the gear, sorting things around the boat. Kaelvorn felt a flicker of curiosity.

"Who?"

"You'll see when we get there." Tom kept it vague and carried the packed gear down into the cabin.

"Let's head back. Pack up, and we'll head out tonight." Back at the cottage, Kaelvorn gathered his things in about ten seconds. There wasn't much to gather. Just the handful of clothes Tom had picked up for him. Tom dug a rust-caked set of car keys out of the storage room, grabbed a rag, and wiped down a truck parked outside that looked like it had survived several wars. The body was covered in scratches, the tires half-deflated, the whole thing easily over a decade old.

Tom jammed the key in and cranked it a few times before the engine caught with a rattling thuk-thuk-thuk, coughing out a cloud of black exhaust.

"Don't judge it by the paint job. Runs steady once it's going." Tom patted the wheel, talking to Kaelvorn without really looking at him. Kaelvorn climbed into the passenger seat, and the second the door shut he could feel a layer of dust on the cushion under him. He grabbed the rag off the dash and wiped it down, then flipped open the paper map folded on the seat in front of him. Honestly, the whole setup felt like something out of a museum.

After a while of squinting at it and asking a few questions, Kaelvorn finally worked out that Tom's little seaside cottage sat right on the outskirts of Metropolis. Metropolis. Superman's home turf. Something clicked, and he looked over at Tom, who was backing the truck out.

"You're taking me to Superman?" Tom's hand paused on the wheel for a beat, then he shook his head.

"No." The truck pulled onto the highway and headed toward the city. At a fork in the road, Tom skipped the route into downtown Metropolis and turned onto the highway toward Gotham instead.

"Gotham?" Kaelvorn's brow furrowed. He didn't need the news for this one. Even the leftover scraps of memory from his old life told him exactly what that place was. A city with a sky-high crime rate, permanently draped in shadow, sitting in stark contrast to sunny Metropolis. Though it did sound like exactly the kind of place built to absorb every flavor of unsavory character walking around. The truck ran through nearly two hours of darkness before finally rolling into downtown Gotham.

The whole feel of the place was nothing like Metropolis. Even at night, the streets carried a pressure to them, neon light bouncing off wet pavement in shapes that felt slightly wrong. Tom drove the truck up to a building that disappeared into the sky and stopped. WAYNE ENTERPRISES Kaelvorn froze. Tom had brought him here?

"We're here." Tom killed the engine, talking to Kaelvorn.

"This is Wayne Enterprises. The person you're recommending me is here?" Kaelvorn asked, confusion in his voice. He was already mostly sure what was going on, if he was honest with himself. But what exactly was Tom, that he knew Superman and Batman?

"I know Superman. Superman knows Batman." Tom said it while rolling down his window.

"And not many people know this, but Wayne Enterprises' owner, Bruce Wayne, happens to know Batman personally. He can help you." Kaelvorn kept his face flat, though internally he rolled his eyes hard. That cover story was doing a truly terrible job of covering anything. Before Kaelvorn could get a word out, Tom was already ushering him out.

"Go on in yourself. Bruce Wayne's expecting you inside. I've got things to handle, so I'll leave you to it." Kaelvorn climbed out, plenty of doubt still on his face, and Tom waved once before driving off in that beat-up truck without so much as a glance back. Kaelvorn watched the taillights disappear into the dark and let out a tired sigh. He turned back to face the building looming over him and, for a second, had absolutely no idea what to do with his hands.

He wasn't exactly eager to deal with this particular guy. What he remembered was someone gloomy and humorless, a genuinely boring individual to be around. Right as Kaelvorn was seriously considering just turning around and walking away, the revolving door up ahead swung open on its own momentum. A tall, middle-aged man stepped out in a black suit. His hair was combed into place without a single strand out of line, an easy, warm smile sitting on his face. The whole presence was oddly specific.

Boardroom composure layered over something sharper underneath, something that didn't quite fit the smile. The man's eyes landed on Kaelvorn directly, and he closed the distance fast, hand already extended.

"Hi there. Bruce Wayne. I'm guessing whoever sent you already gave you the short version."