milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[Upstairs: A Solitary Weekend and a Lunar Dream.]

The Sandman sweeps into the Bar from the upstairs rooms. Red fedora, gold gasmask, purple overcape, green suit, yellow vest.* He looks around like a thief casing a house, then strides over to the Bar.

He doffs his hat, lifts off his mask and sets both on the bar. "Coffee, please."

His regular mug of piping hot encouragement appears.

Taking coffee in hand, Wesley Dodds puts his hat back on, fishes his glasses from his pocket, and turns to face the room. Something's up. Until he figures out just what it is, all he can do is (keep) watch.

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The effect is striking, at least if you know what it is that you are looking at. Barry knows. He's seen it before, of course, but when the man in the outfit is younger, it makes a difference. No pointy ears, no true air of darkness, and it's almost as unnerving as the Batman costume.

At the same time, though, Barry wonders if any other onlookers will think that either Salzella has returned with a new look.

"Good morning, Wesley."

[ooc: slowtime probable]

"Mr Allen."

Wesley nods once at Barry, then continues to survey the Bar.

"Anything on the Bar calendar that I should know about, Mr Allen? My usual nightly predictor of the day's events doesn't seem to work so well here, and yet I have the feeling that something ... impending is afoot."

He thinks for a second.

"Well, there is a stalker loose in the Bar, and a wanted criminal known for committing rather outrageous acts. So it's possible that something is about to happen.

"Or maybe it's just someone is holding a party tomorrow. Things have a way of getting racuous here." If there is something brewing, Barry doesn't notice it at all.

"And please, call me Barry. If you are, as history records, a veteran of...the Great War" - Barry stops himself from saying World War II - "you are about my age."

"The Great War, Mr Allen?"

Wesley breaks his surveilling gaze and smiles. "No, I missed the so-called Great War by a few years. I was just a kid when the fighting ended in 1918. But let me tell you ... there are things going on in Europe ..."

He remembers his painful entry into Milliways.

"... even happening in America. The Nazi menace is terrifying enough already, and I've a feeling that we don't know the half of what Der Fuhrer is capable. Something tells me that we're going to have to step in and help our friends in the Old World soon ... or else we'll be defending our New World from the boardwalks of Atlantic City."

He thinks, then looks directly at Barry.

"If my notions are the least bit accurate, I'm going to take your friendly nature and lack of a German accent as assuring proof that we survived ... whatever happen'd ... and leave it at that. Okay ... Barry?"

Barry smiles grimly, relieved he doesn't have to pay dumb too frequently about what's coming.

"That's a wise choice, Wesley. I make it a policy never to tell people too much about their futures if I can.

"Though it would seem that I have erred in telling something about your past that isn't true. I guess the information I have is not accurate after all. My apologies for adding years to your life."

"Oh, never apologize for adding a year or three to anyone's precious life ... after all, that's what I ..."

Wesley smiles, winks.

"You and I try to do all the time, eh? And that reminds me ... all of this history you spoke of, about me, Alan, Travis and the others ... are we remembered well? It seems hard to believe, what with the way the 'papers like to throw us in the same pile as the brigands we bring in, calling us vigilantes and so on."

Barry hesitates. So much for not telling someone too much about his future. He thinks about his words, hoping not to drop too many clues about what's too come.

"Most of your peers, yourself included, are certainly remembered. Though part of that is because many in my generation sought to honor yours by adapting similar names and methods. The average person has heard of most of you, but can't necessarily recall much aobut you.

"I guess it's fair to say that you are as well remembered as some movie stars and athletes, though less well remembered than Babe Ruth or Clark Gable. If nothing else, I can't name a single member of President Roosevelt's cabinet, but could always name you and your peers.

"And that's probably as much as as I should say."

"Well, gosh, Barry ... I don't think even I can name a member of FDR's cabinet."

Wesley grins, nods.

"But I do believe I could take Gable in a fair fight. Ruth? I'd have to bring the gasgun along, I believe. But you're right ... can't learn too much about my own future. So tell me about your past. If we overlapped even a little, that doesn't mean I can't know just how you went about following in our sore and bruised footsteps. What was your edge, Barry?"

Barry smiles. This will tip Wesley off about Jay a little early, but he is on the right track, anyway.

"I was a speedster. I think you mentioned that one is reprted to be operating in your era? He's the first Flash, though I think he doesn't become a public figure till next year your time. So keep that under your hat.

"I assumed the name in my time, and that in turn let to my generation's rise, and to its use of your era's names."

"So you're saying that I would be wise to copyright the Sandman name? Perhaps develop it into a limited liability or some such?"

He's joking.

"The Flash. I'm sure that Prof Garrick will come up with that nom de guerre soon enough without a hint from me. And besides, I believe the good prof hails from Keystone ... a ways away from my streets.

"But I'm glad we did ... we're doing some good ... though the fact that our kind of justice is still needed doesn't speak well for the human condition, does it? Must man always be inhumane to man and all that?"

[ooc: lunchtime. back soon]

"I lived in Central City, just across the river from Keystone. One reason he served to inspire me, among many.

"As for the human condition..." He thinks. Wesley might be right, given the events he has yet to see. But he might also be wrong, given the wonders yet to come.

"There will always be crime and suffering, I think. But your generation, and mine, we tried to do more than most to change that. And we succeed by and large. If it's a never-ending battle, we still have to fight, and to hope that someday we'll win."

"I'd drink to that," Wesley agrees.

"But I'll stick to coffee. I still have an odd feeling about the day. There's a pull, something like a full moon. I'm not a superstitious man by trade, but the luna root of lunacy has some merit."

"For what it's worth, I've seen enough things in my career never to dismiss the effects of the full moon. Aside from lots of anecdotal evidence as to its effects, I've encounted plenty of the weird on top of that.

"But I also don't drink anything stronger than decaffinated coffee. Which would be a new idea to you, right?

"My metabolism burns off alcohol immediately. And for some strange reason can't handle caffeine."

Wesley blinks.

"De ... un-caffienated coffee?!? Next you're going to tell me that your generation made pioneering strides in beer without alcohol and cakes without sugar."

He turns to the Bar, "Speaking of ... Bar, another cuppa."

Slowly, very slowly, the cup refills. Wesley's eyes narrow.

"Curious."

Barry notices this, but doesn't really ponder it ~~yet~~.

"Hmm. Bar must be in a mood.

"There are many sugar-free items in my day, but cake without sugar si still beyond science. And alcohol=free beer...

"I think that the bland stuff sold during Prohibition is pretty the same bland stuff sold in my day. Not that I think there would be a demand for beer that doesn't have alcohol."

"You said you were a speedster, a running hero. What changed your mind about the business? Get tired of the chase?"

Wesley hopes he doesn't strike a nerve here, but he has to ask.

Barry offers a strange smile, one that is at once tense and at peace with things.

"Oh, I didn't quit. I...well, I died. And came here for a very unlikely afterlife."

"Looks like the pirates are wrong then."

Wesley takes this remarkably well.

"So you opted out of heaven, friend? Or did you find that stately principality less interesting than you imagined?"

"The pirates? I don't understand."

He thinks and tries to make sense of it for Wesley. His smile stays the same.

"I'm afraid I didn't get to heaven. Nor will I. There's....there's sort of a valhalla for speedsters out there. When the time comes, it will snatch me out of here. I'm hoping to forestall that for as long as possible, though. As afterlives go, this one is far better to being in teh Speed Force."

"The pirates, my friend. All they're talk about dead men not telling a tale or two. Looks like you've made liars out of the lot of them.

"But congratulations, Barry. This seems a good place. It's certainly proven welcoming to me and I'm in no hurry to leave.

"Come to think of it, I haven't even tried."

Barry gives a good laugh.

"Well, since I don't think either of us would be likely to be on the same side as most pirates - indeed, some of my enemies could be called pirates for some of their crimes - I think we've accomplished something in the name of justice.

"And this is a good place. Dead men and live ones alike tell some amazing stories. There's a sense of friendship here, as well, that I like." Not to mention Sara, but that can wait.

"Haven't tried to leave...well, I should warn you that if the door won't open, the force that motivates the bar is not ready to let you go. But n one knwos why that happens. So if you do try and can't go, my advice is go with the flow."

[ooc: time to wrap. seeya.]

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