milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's...Barry Allen?

Yes, it's Barry Allen, the fastest man alive (even when dead).

Barry Allen, who would never actually be confused with neither bird nor plane nor even frog...

...who is currently outside, on his new skaterug, slowly getting the hang of it, but also having a great time.

...And who is finally getting to do the one thing he never could before. He gets to fly.

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"Okay, so you don't look like a bird or plane. And I don't think even Smallville's produced people that can fly...yet."

There's a Chloe standing out by the lake, staring at Barry on his skaterug. She has her camera out, pictures already taken of the man on the rug.

"So how does this thing work?"

"Er, good morning." Did she say she was from Smallville? That would certainly be different.

"How does this work? Magic. Tim Hunter made it, you see." Barry gets the rug to slwoly make its way closer to the ground.

"I don't think we've met yet. Barry Allen."

"Chloe Sullivan," she replies, offering him a hand.

She raises an eyebrow, looking at the rug rather than Barry. "Are there different types of magic? Cause what I saw the guy at the piano do yesterday was radically different than the amazing popping girl."

"I think there are as many kinds of magic as there are worlds represented in the Bar. Tim's is just probably on a higher level.

"And since you're asking that, can I assume you are new to the Bar?" Barry continues to hover but isn't doing anything fancy.

Chloe nods. "Got here a couple days ago."

She watches him hover on the rug. "Take it with a question like that you're not so new here."

"Been here close to a year, actually. And I'm on security, so if you have any questions, I might actually be able to answer them.

"You said you're from Smallville. I have a friend who grew up there, and I grew up in Fallville, Iowa, so I think I can imagine just how odd the Bar must seem." It doesn't occur to Barry just yet that there aren't Smallvilles on every Earth the way there seem to be Las Vegases and New Yorks all over the multiverse.

"Do you know anything about the Landlord?" Chloe asks, instantly switching into reporter-mode.

She nods. "Technically, I'm from Metropolis. We moved to Smallville a couple of years ago when Dad was transfered as the new manager for Luthercorp Fertilizer Plant #3." A laugh. "Trust me, I've seen things just as strange at home. Hey, who did you say you know there?"

"The Landlord? My, you don't waste any time getting to the hard questions." He lands the rug now.

"I know nothing about him or her or it. Oh, I've speculated about that, as have most of us. But we have no real information about the Landlord. Aside from that he or she or it seems really capricious, and really powerful. The only one who might know is the Chief Barman, Bernard, but he won't answer any questions, I'm sure. And he's on his honeymoon anyway.

"Luthorcorp...you sure you don't mean Lexcorp?" Now Barry begins to wonder if she's from his world. "Metropolis I know. Great city, if a little large and busy for me. I lived in Central City as an adult, and that was enough for me.

"I knew a reporter. Colleague of my wife. A reporter named Clark Kent." As long as doesn't say anything too detailed, he should be OK. He thinks.

"Clark Kent? A reporter?" Now Chloe's staring at him for an entirely different reason. "He's never mentioned you. And unless he starts handing in his articles to me on time, he's never going going to make it anywhere in this buisness."

The cold dawn of mistaken assumptions rises over Barry. "You know Clark. And he's a classmate...

"Chloe, what year are you from?"

"Of course Clark's a classmate. Unless the meteor rocks prematurely aged him into a mild mannered reporter wearing flannel and glasses." She shakes her head, amused. "2001. Why, when are you from?"

Barry begins to laugh. Hard. That's Clark, alright, only not her Clark.

"Believe it or not, I'm from before your time. I passed on in the mid 90s. And the Clark I knew was my age.

"Which means, I'm afraid, that we are from alternate timelines. Albeit somewhat similar ones, since you are the first person to come from a world other than my own with a Metropolis."

She laughs, looking at him a bit wide eyed. "Are you serious?"

"I guess you really are new to the Bar. I didn't know much about alternate timelines till I got here. Or at least not as much as I thought I did." He lands the rug fully now.

"I admit it is a strange notion and will take some getting used to. But it's part of what gives the Bar its charm."

"Give me the meteor freaks any day. That's something I know how to handle." She shakes her head, still in disbelief over the idea of an alternate Clark Kent. "So what's he like? Your Clark?"

"Meteor freaks?" Naturally, Barry has no idea what that's a reference to.

"My Clark...well, he's pretty mild-mannered. Not really a go-getter, from what my wife told me. But despite that, he's gotten some huge scoops over the years. Beat Lois Lane to the Superman story." The wheels turns a bit, as Barry figures that if she knows a Clark, she shouldn't have a hint that he might be a Superman, too.

"Oookay, sure you didn't hit your head on a tree branch when flying that thing? Lois has absolutely no interest in journalism what so ever."

Barry makes a confused face. "You know Lois, as well. OK, that's a bit weird, since from what I recall, Kent and Lane didn't meet until they started at the Planet.

"But that makes the point for me. Your world iisn't mine. Clearly, things are going to play out differently. Though since you mention that your Clark is a reporter - local paper, or school paper? - maybe not completely differenrly."

She rolls her eyes. "Of course I know Lois. She's my cousin."

A pause, and she stares at Barry, mouth agape. "Clark works at the Planet?"

"Your cousin." That would explain why Chloe asks so many questions. Apparently, in her world the gene for being inquisitive jumped to another branch of the family. "Yeah, I can see that.

"I also see that the Planet has the same reputation on your world as mine. Our Clark's earned his place there. Like I said, he gets the scoops." No need to explain why, though.

"Oh, really?" Chloe raises an eyebrow. "Most people say we don't look anything alike."

She smiles proudly. "So Clark turns out to be a world class reporter, after all. Guess I can only hope he'll do the same in mine."

"You don't look alike. But...well, she has a reputation for asking tough questions. Even more so than my wife did. And Iris could be a real pitbull." He msiles, remembering how hard Iris worked to get a scoop about the Flash.

"As for Clark, we can only hope. What's he like on your world so far?"

[ooc: have fun. we'll continue later.]

"Your stereotypical farmboy," Chloe answers with a chuckle. "Always there when you need him, and never when you want him."

Guppy comes out with coffee and a huge pile of paperwork, which he dumps under a small rock to hold it down. He then pulls a tiny kitten out of his pocket and proceeds to bottle feed it.
He's having a busy day. But he's been meaning to find Barry and this is a good opportunity.

"Hi Barry. Have you got a minute?"

"Hey, Guppy. Cute kitten.

"And of course I have a minute. What's up?" Barry lowers himself almost to Guppy's eye level.

"I was just wondering if anyone had told you about Naraht." Guppy says, adjusting the kitten so that it can feed at the correct angle.

"I saw a note that he's in the cells as a quarantine procedure. And that he's ill, of course. How's he doing?" Barry gets a look of concern, even as he's glad Naraht took the effort to be quarantined.

"I was hoping you could tell me. I saw him yesterday and he looked pretty bad, but I haven't heard any news since."

Guppy looks worried. This isn't particularly unusual.

"He had some sort of crystals on his back. He said he couldn't feel them, but when I mentioned them to him he said they were the equivalent of smallpox."

"Dear lord." Barry now quite worried for his silicon friend.

"I haven't visited him yet, I'm afraid, and no one is keeping me in the loop. Though as he at least saw to his isolation, and is getting medical attention, I'm not sure I need to know. Except as a friend.

"That is, assuming you weren't the only doctor who saw him. No offense, but I suspect Horta infectious disease is not one of the specialities you are being taught."

"You're right about that. I really hope I'm not the only doctor who's seen him. I don't know where to start. His core temperature is dropping to dangerous levels, like a fever in humans but the other way around. I gave him a heat blanket and the cell he was in was providing heat, but that needs sorting very soon. I'm going to talk to Ray as soon as I see him to get an update. I'll keep you posted on what I know, but at the moment I'm flitting between here and Holby, so I'm not the best source of information."

Barry nods, concern rising. "At least you're doing your best. I'm sure Naraht appreciates that.

"Maybe we shold head up to see him? After all, I can get into the offices anytime."

Guppy nods. "Yes, that would be a good idea. I was hoping to see how he was but the door was locked."

"Then lead on, MacDuff, and I'll get us in." Barry find a little humor in this as he puts away his rug.

[ooc: following the link there.]

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