Superior_Idiot
DCU Superman #32
1995
“I think I saw him with a few gang members.” A young woman says.
“Gang members?” John Henry Irons asks.
“Yeah, y’know the 100 gang or something like that.” John’s face goes pale.
“Where?” She pointed several blocks towards Centennial Park, as he runs to the park, he calls 911 just in case things got rough. John runs inside the park to spot two teenagers standing behind an older man, who’s likely their leader, kicking his brother Clay.
“Look at this little shithead, thinking he could cross Joey.” He then goes down to his knees to face the bloodied and bruised face that is Clay.
“No one crosses Joey and thinks they can get away with it unscathed.” Clay takes a few weak breaths before spitting blood at Joey’s face in response. Joey gets back up in disgust.
“Sounds like Joey needs to be less of a jackass.” Clay adds with a bloodied smile that he can barely pull.
“Cute.” Joey responds before giving him a harsh kick to the stomach, knocking out what little wind was left.
“You know what we do to shitheads boys,” He gestures for a pistol, which one gives to him. John clenches his fists before rushing right at them.
“We flush the-” He’s interrupted as John swings a right hook as hard as he can at his lower jaw, smacking him unconscious with a painful crunch before he turns to the other two. One of them tries to grab the gun, but is shoved by John into the other guy which both struggle to stand back up.
“That’s right, get your asses outta here!” He shouts as they both run off, abandoning their leader. He goes down to grab the gun and dismantles it easily. He looks to Clay, who looks at him, looking like he was the last person he wanted to face.
“I-I didn’t need your-” He’s stopped by a smack at the back of his head.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” John yells out.
“What? I didn’t ask for your help!”
“Seriously? I came here, searching through half the goddamn city, worried sick, to find you trying to deal in drugs again and all you can say is you didn’t need my help?!” John sighed before putting his hands in his pockets.
“Look, I didn’t just come here to argue, I heard about what happened with Blondell.” Clay gave him a momentary look of shock before looking away.
“It’s none of your business.” Clay said, trying to give a resentful response, but failing.
“It is when Grandma Bess calls me, telling me you’re not in the hospital.” Clay holds his breath, trying to find something to say.
“Look, I know what happened with Blondell. I’m sorry.” Clay scoffs, looking down.
“I didn’t ask for your pity.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing? Giving you pity? I’m not just doing this because I feel bad, I’m not just doing this for you or Grandma Bess, but for Nat and Jemahl too.” He looks back at him, shivering even though the air isn’t even cold.
“N-Nat and Jemahl?” Tears start forming.
“Your kids, Clay.” He stares at the ground.
“They need you, and I’ll help you with them. But only of your own choice.” He struggles to take a calm breath.
“Okay.”
“Okay? Okay what?”
“Okay, I-I-I’ll quit.”
“So, what about him?” He gestures to Joey’s unconscious body.
“Don’t worry, I already called the police. So for now, let’s just sit here until they arrive.” They sit at a nearby bench. Letting the minutes pass by, before John randomly asks.
“So, what’s next?” Clay looks back confused.
“What’s next?”
“For your future, I mean.” He laughs a little in response.
“Man, you give the shittiest questions.”
“What do you mean shittiest?”
“What’s next for your future? Really? I understand you don’t talk to many people cuz of your job, but christ.”
“Alright, I’m bad. But I’m still asking..” He sighs before responding.
“I dunno, maybe I’ll run for mayor.” John snickers.
“Yeah right.”
“What? You don’t see ‘Clay Michael Irons, mayor of Metropolis’?”
“Not in a million years.”
“Well then I can't see the look on your face when I become mayor.” Clay remarks. As we spot the red and blue blinking lights of a police cruiser arrive.
DCU Superman #32
1995
“I think I saw him with a few gang members.” A young woman says.
“Gang members?” John Henry Irons asks.
“Yeah, y’know the 100 gang or something like that.” John’s face goes pale.
“Where?” She pointed several blocks towards Centennial Park, as he runs to the park, he calls 911 just in case things got rough. John runs inside the park to spot two teenagers standing behind an older man, who’s likely their leader, kicking his brother Clay.
“Look at this little shithead, thinking he could cross Joey.” He then goes down to his knees to face the bloodied and bruised face that is Clay.
“No one crosses Joey and thinks they can get away with it unscathed.” Clay takes a few weak breaths before spitting blood at Joey’s face in response. Joey gets back up in disgust.
“Sounds like Joey needs to be less of a jackass.” Clay adds with a bloodied smile that he can barely pull.
“Cute.” Joey responds before giving him a harsh kick to the stomach, knocking out what little wind was left.
“You know what we do to shitheads boys,” He gestures for a pistol, which one gives to him. John clenches his fists before rushing right at them.
“We flush the-” He’s interrupted as John swings a right hook as hard as he can at his lower jaw, smacking him unconscious with a painful crunch before he turns to the other two. One of them tries to grab the gun, but is shoved by John into the other guy which both struggle to stand back up.
“That’s right, get your asses outta here!” He shouts as they both run off, abandoning their leader. He goes down to grab the gun and dismantles it easily. He looks to Clay, who looks at him, looking like he was the last person he wanted to face.
“I-I didn’t need your-” He’s stopped by a smack at the back of his head.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” John yells out.
“What? I didn’t ask for your help!”
“Seriously? I came here, searching through half the goddamn city, worried sick, to find you trying to deal in drugs again and all you can say is you didn’t need my help?!” John sighed before putting his hands in his pockets.
“Look, I didn’t just come here to argue, I heard about what happened with Blondell.” Clay gave him a momentary look of shock before looking away.
“It’s none of your business.” Clay said, trying to give a resentful response, but failing.
“It is when Grandma Bess calls me, telling me you’re not in the hospital.” Clay holds his breath, trying to find something to say.
“Look, I know what happened with Blondell. I’m sorry.” Clay scoffs, looking down.
“I didn’t ask for your pity.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing? Giving you pity? I’m not just doing this because I feel bad, I’m not just doing this for you or Grandma Bess, but for Nat and Jemahl too.” He looks back at him, shivering even though the air isn’t even cold.
“N-Nat and Jemahl?” Tears start forming.
“Your kids, Clay.” He stares at the ground.
“They need you, and I’ll help you with them. But only of your own choice.” He struggles to take a calm breath.
“Okay.”
“Okay? Okay what?”
“Okay, I-I-I’ll quit.”
“So, what about him?” He gestures to Joey’s unconscious body.
“Don’t worry, I already called the police. So for now, let’s just sit here until they arrive.” They sit at a nearby bench. Letting the minutes pass by, before John randomly asks.
“So, what’s next?” Clay looks back confused.
“What’s next?”
“For your future, I mean.” He laughs a little in response.
“Man, you give the shittiest questions.”
“What do you mean shittiest?”
“What’s next for your future? Really? I understand you don’t talk to many people cuz of your job, but christ.”
“Alright, I’m bad. But I’m still asking..” He sighs before responding.
“I dunno, maybe I’ll run for mayor.” John snickers.
“Yeah right.”
“What? You don’t see ‘Clay Michael Irons, mayor of Metropolis’?”
“Not in a million years.”
“Well then I can't see the look on your face when I become mayor.” Clay remarks. As we spot the red and blue blinking lights of a police cruiser arrive.