17Disclaimer:I do not own Sky High, its setting, premise, or characters -or related characters named and unnamed. All is the property of Walt Disney Pictures, Buena Vista Pictures, Andrew Gunn, and Mark McCorkie.
Tumble Through Time
Chapter Six: Wrong With the Diamond
"I have questions." Battle announced.
Then paused. Taking stock of what he was actually seeing here. It was mid-day but it looked like the boys were just waking up. That made sense. If Ave put them to work at the club as payment for whatever service he was providing for them. Divide remained open until 2am. Then there was clean-up work to be done after that. It was entirely likely that they did not get to bed until three or four in the morning.
Still wearing their sleep clothes which looked borrowed. Unless the older one really felt that passionately about the Masters of the Universe cartoon, that he would wear it as a nightshirt over what looked like his regular underwear. Or if the younger one adored Night Rider so much he absolutely needed pajama pants of it.
Clearly, Battle had walked in on them just barely starting their day.
The beds weren't even made! (Of course, if they took after Mara, that didn't mean much. Battle had never seen her make a bed for as long as he'd known her. But no sons of his were gonna get away with it!)
Folded neatly on the side of one of the beds was a black body suit with similarly black armor plating. The only color on it, splashes of red. It was a little hard to see with it folded, but it looked like either tongues of flame, or the wings of a bird. Obviously the older son's costume, the one with the fire powers. So, he really was a supervillain, just like his old man. Battle couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at the thought. His first born took after him. (Yay!)
Then he noticed a white, blue, and red costume crumpled on the floor at the foot of the other bed. The costume of a hero. The suit was all in a heap, so Battle couldn't see any symbols on it. He didn't know if the boy went his Mara bird aesthetic, or if he came up with his own, but it was not the uniform of a villain. His younger son did not take after him. (Aw.) Battle would be lying if he didn't admit that that thought disappointed him a little.
It seemed there was a lot about his boys that he didn't know. Of course, there would be. From his point on the timeline, they weren't even conceived. While, from their end, they had lived their lives, made their choices, and become their own men. Battle really didn't know anything about his children.
And, if the borrowed clothes and borrowed lodgings were any indication, this trip to their past might not have been quite as planned as Battle first assumed. Maybe –being a hero and a villain- they were fighting each other and something went wrong in the fight and they were hurled back in time together. But, no, that didn't make sense because his villain son protected his hero son the other night. They might be on opposite sides, but they looked out for each other. Maybe it was a common enemy they were fighting and sent them back in time to get rid of them.
The more Battle thought about it, the more he realized he just had more questions.
At least one thing was clear. They had just woken up. So, neither one of them had eaten. "Can I treat you to breakfast?"
The two just continued to stare at him. Standing there. In their pajamas. At a bit of a loss as to what to do or what to think.
"N-no!" Said his villain son, as if this should have gone without saying. They were from the future. They couldn't just have breakfast with their father who hadn't fathered them yet, talk like a family, and give away too much information about the future.
Battle's eyes did another sweep of the room. He noted no alternate clothing apart from what they were wearing –which was obviously barrowed- what they wore the previous night when they were working at Divide, and their super costumes.
"You look a little out of place." Battle announced, honestly. "Let me help you out."
The older one opened his mouth as if to reply.
But the younger one cut him off.
"It's okay, um, Dad." He assured Battle. Words almost stinted. As if he weren't sure how to talk to his own father. And that raised even more questions. Why didn't his younger boy feel comfortable talking to him? Was it because he chose to become a hero? "The Broker already has a mad scientist on the way to send us back. We're fine. Just waiting this out."
Battle found, unconvinced. In his own personal experience, mad scientists were not the most punctual or reliable people in the world. "And what's your backup plan in case this mad scientist doesn't show up?"
He hoped he was the kind of father that taught his children to plan for contingencies.
They both exchanged another look.
"You don't have a backup plan." Battle concluded. When the boys only reply to this was more blank looks Battle just sighed. "Get dressed." He ordered. "I'm gonna make sure you eat something-" because if they were anything like Mara, they would need the reminder "-then we're gonna figure something out together."
Crossing his arm, Battle waited for them to get moving.
There was a pause.
They both looked like they were going to object, but didn't know what arguments to make. They couldn't very well cry about sharing too much of the future and messing up the time stream. They already gave away a lot. To use that as an objection now would be hypocritical –not that there was any rule that villains couldn't be hypocritical, but heroes did have a rule against hypocrisy and at least one of his boys was a do-gooding hero.
Finally, his villain son sighed and pulled off his borrowed pajama shirt. Stripping as if he didn't care that he had an audience, just like Mara would. He got Mara's fire and Mara's laxed views of modesty.
"Are you… just gonna stand there and watch us get dressed?" Asked the hero son. Well, he might be a damn hero, but at least the younger one took some of Battle's comments about what was and was not appropriate to heart.
"I'll wait outside." Battle announced. Then exited the room, closing the door behind him.
Will and Warren stared at the closed door.
"He is probably waiting right next to the door." Warren hissed. And, knowing his father, now that Barron Battle had found them, he was not going to let them go until they gave him what he wanted. He said he had questions, so he would want answers. Answers they could not give him without endangering the time stream and creating a paradox. Or multiple paradoxes, actually.
"What do we do?" Will asked.
He had no idea how to handle Barron Battle. He never met the man before. Only heard about him from other people, and the stories he heard did not match up with the man he was seeing now. Well… the stories did match up a little bit with the man he met last night, when Battle pulled a knife out of an impossible place and almost murdered him in cold blood. That was like the stories he used to hear. But everything else he was seeing did not match up!
Bending down near the foot of Will's bed, Warren picked up the other man's hero costume. "First, we have to do something about this."
He held it up so that Will could see the rampart symbol on the chest. The Commander's symbol. If they were going to pass Will off as Barron Battle's son, then he very well could not be flying around wearing the crest of Battle's enemy.
Heading back to his own side of the room, Warren grabbed one of his own boots, turned it upside down and… pulled a knife out of the tread!
"Are you serious!" Will hissed, very aware that Barron Battle might be able to hear anything they said on the other side of the door. "You pull the same hidden knife trick as your dad! What do you even need a knife for? You have your fire!"
Warren only shrugged. "There are some things you can do with a knife that you can't do with a fireball." He explained. "Now hold this up for me while I make a few adjustments."
Working quickly, both of them keenly aware of the young supervillain in his prime on the other side of the door, Warren just the rampart symbol off Will's costume. When he was done, he made a couple additional cuts on the diagonal and pulled on the fabric a little to make it look strained and ripped. So that it would look like the damage was the result of a fight and not intentional. "Okay, go ahead and put that on."
For himself, Warren slipped on his own hero costume. He didn't have to make any alterations to it. The bird on his chest was almost identical to Flamebird's symbol –apart from the color- and the dark color scheme made him look like a villain. Battle would love it.
"Okay," Warren turned to will as soon as they both were ready, "we can get through this. Just listen to him when he talks, laugh at his jokes, and if he asks you a direct question, just say you can't answer it in case it creates a paradox."
Will nodded. "I can do this."
Warren very much doubted that. But then, he wasn't really one to comment. The majority of his own acting experience came from his sophomore year of high school when Layla convinced him to be her fake boyfriend. A scheme that consisted mostly of him sitting close to her and silently scowling while she called him cringy pet-names and held his hand without asking.
But Warren could not sit quietly and scowl his way through this one. It was his father they had to fool. In this situation, Warren had to take point.
"If you get nervous or trip up, I can bail you out." Warren promised. "Just don't let him corner you."
Looking about as nervous as Warren felt, Will have a little nod. "Okay."
Warren opened the door.
Battled was right there. Leaning against the wall on the opposite side. He was looking at his watched, taking note of the time and how much of it he had before he promised Mara he would pick her up from work. Heroes allowed their cases and misadventures get in the way if their personal lives, missing shifts at their day jobs, or showing up late for dates. But supervillains made their own schedules instead of allowing their enemies to set the timings. Battle still had a couple of hours to spend with his boys before he had to pick up their mother.
He looked up when the door opened, eyes going wide when he saw the big gaping hole in the chest of his younger son's costume. "What happened to you!?"
Younger one looked started. Caught off guard. Almost scared. Like he didn't know what to say or what to do.
"It happened in a fight." Supplied the older one.
Battle stepped closer to the boys, giving his hero son a more critical examination. The edges of the hole in the fabric weren't singed or melted. There was no evidence of fire or heat being used. So, thankfully, it was not the boy's brother that inflicted the wound. Battle didn't realize how relieved he was by that fact, until he felt himself sigh. One might be a villain and the other might be a hero, but at least they weren't trying to kill each other. In fact, it looked like the work of a blade, not a superpower.
But the really, really, really interesting thing was that there was no wound on the skin that was exposed by the hole. If the costume was torn –and torn that badly- in a fight, then some of his skin should also be missing. But it was not. It was just pale, unblemished pectorals, covered in the lightest of dustings of chest hair.
"You've got my healing ability too." Battle concluded.
"Do not confirm or deny anything." His villain son repeated his words from the previous night.
Battle really needed to figure out their names, or at the very least something to call them. He was starting to get really annoyed with referring to them as his older son and younger son, or his villain son and hero son, or the tall one and the short one. Even in his own head that was annoying. And these were his children, he should know their names!
"Anyway, car's downstairs." He announced. "Let's get moving. We're burning daylight and I got somewhere I gotta be by five-thirty."
"Why? What happens at five-thirty?" Will asked, immediately suspecting some kind of evil supervillain plot.
"Mom gets off work." Warren hissed at him with a silent 'duh' at the end.
"That's right." Battle confirmed, leading the pair down stairs and across the club floor to the main entrance. "And before I see her again this evening, I need to know what you meant when you said I didn't give her the diamond."
"What do you mean, what did I mean?" Asked Villain Son. "You just didn't give her a diamond."
Battle watched as Villain Son went right to his car, even though twenty years in the future Battle would have to have a different car, and it was doubtful that he would have any memories of the car his father had before he was born. He opened the passenger door and folded down the front seat so that Hero Son could climb in the back. Villain Son climbed into the front seat. Battle slid in on the driver's side.
"But I have a diamond." He reminded his children. "A really, really nice one! I read that your supposed to spend two months worth of income on an engagement ring and the diamond is… pretty close to that. I had it checked and it's not radioactive, or cursed, or poisoned. So, what went wrong? Is it going to be stolen? Should I be looking out for other supervillains?"
It was a fairly common thing for supervillains to use precious gems with high carats and good clarity in their doomsday weapons or lasers.
In the backseat, Hero Son pursed his lips, as if thinking. "Mr-" He cut himself off abruptly before beginning again. "May I ask where you got the diamond?"
"I picked it up during my last trip overseas." Battle informed him, not sure where the boy was going with the question.
Next to him, in the passenger seat, Villain Son sighed. "Did this place where you got it happen to be a third world country ravaged by civil war, in which the diamond industry is used to fund fascist governments that exploit the people?"
Hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as Battle frowned. "What does that matter?"
"It's a blood diamond." Villain Son concluded, as if this were all the answer that was needed.
It was not all the answer Battle needed. "What does that have to do with anything?" He demanded.
"Well, Flamebird's a superhero." Hero Son reminded him from the back seat. Battle thought it was a little odd he called her 'Flamebird' instead of 'Mom'. But he was more focused on the conversation about the diamond. "Are you sure she'll like the idea of you giving her a blood diamond as a token of your eternal love and devotion?"
"I hate to break it to you, Squirt," Battle growled, "but all diamonds are blood diamonds. They're all mined, or bought, shipped, cut, and sold, by heartless governments or companies that exploit the people. There's no such thing as a 'conflict free' diamond."
Next to him, Villain Son smirk. "I don't mean to brag, but there have been multiple articles published about how we're 'single handedly killing the diamond industry'."
Battle didn't realize this was a joke on how the contemporary media of the time period they came from liked to vilify their generation for actually taking a moral stand with their purchases, and instead assumed it was his Villain Son bragging about the success of one of his Evil Plans. "And what's the profit in killing the diamond industry?" He asked. "Do you own the patent on a diamond substitute? Or the mineral rights on land that contains different gems that are experiencing market rises thanks to your killing the diamond?"
"No. It's about ethical business practices and not wanting to support cutthroat capitalism." Announced the Hero Son from the back seat.
So, Hero and Villain were working together. That was interesting. Collaborating on the same plan from two different sides. Working different angles and meeting in the middle. Maybe they weren't a hero and a villain, maybe they were both neutral, but, like, different levels of neutral. Battle often said that 'hero and villain' were not opposite sides of the same coin, but rather, opposite ends of a spectrum. His children fell somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. One closer to the villain side, the other closer to the hero side, but both still in the middle.
However, none of that was what Battle commented on. This was 1988 and the Cold War was still going on, in decline, but still on. Battle heard the 'cutthroat capitalism' comment and blurted out without thinking. "Wait a sec, are you a fucking Commie!?"
"Democratic socialist." Hero Son corrected.
Battle rolled his eyes. "Ugh. Next you'll be telling me you're dating a vegetarian!"
The atmosphere in the car became noticeably more tense.
Will looked at the back of Warren's head, and Warren looked up to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. It was a little hard for the younger man to read his expression through the mask he was wearing, but a moment of silent understanding still managed to pass between them. Both men silently agreeing not to tell Barron Battle about Layla.
Warren cleared his throat. "Where are you taking us, Dad?"
Battle pulled into the underground parking garage of his building. "Home." He said as if this should have been obvious? "You think I'm gonna take you kids to a restaurant dressed like that?"
They both looked at their costumes. Back in 2010 it wasn't so odd for a superhero in full costume to walk into a greasy spoon diner, or a corner Starbucks and order a snack or coffee. But that was twenty-two years in the future. After the turn of the millennium, and a different generation had taken over setting the unwritten rules for what was and was not acceptable for a member of the super community. But in the 1980s, when control of the super community was transitioning from the Greatest Generation to the Baby Boomers, things were still a little more strict.
Battle lead them to the elevator but it was Villain Son who pressed the correct floor button. So, he and Mara raised their children here, in the condo. Did the condo have enough space to raise two children? There was a second bedroom, but the boy would probably want their own rooms. The condo was 1,600 square feet. He could renovate. Cut into the open floorplan living room and put in a second bedroom…
The elevator dinged and they stepped out onto their floor. Battle opened the door for them.
The first thing Villain Son did upon entering, was cross the space to the balcony and look outside. He looked up, checking for flyers, then down, and both sides. Making sure no super was about to come floating onto the property. Then he came back inside and shut the balcony doors –and locked them. Battle hadn't shut his balcony doors since he started living with Mara. Well, okay, they did shut them when it rained, or particularly high winds, or the semi-annual ice-villain attacks that blanketed the city in snow. But other than that, Battle never shut the balcony doors. It was the main way Mara got in and out of the condo. He wasn't even sure she still had her keys by this point.
"Worried about interruptions?" Battle asked.
The younger man looked up at him. "Mom has a tendency to barge in on things." He said, a bit of a shadow in his voice implying his mother has walked in on more than one thing he did not want her waling in on. "Unless you were planning to explain to the woman you hadn't even proposed to yet that you're having lunch with her children from the future and she's predestined to be with you and has no other choice."
"I would not phrase it like that!" Battle assured him. 'No other choice'! That was something you said to your arch nemesis when you finally cornered him in your death trap and he had no way out. That was not something you said to the person you were planning to share the rest of your life with.
"I agree with War- um, my brother." Said Hero Son. "I don't think there's any way you can explain this without ending up scaring her away."
They would know their mother. Battle knew her too. Mara was a mess, but she wanted stability from her life. She made it very clear when they decided to make their one-night-stand a more regular and consistent sexual relationship. She told him outright that she wanted a traditional marriage and children and she didn't think she could have that with a supervillain, so when she stopped having fun with him, she would break up with him. At the time, Battle did not want those things, so he was fine with that. Now it was three years later and Battle rather liked the idea of marriage and children. So long as he had those things with her.
But he was still a supervillain and she was still a hero. Part of having a 'traditional' marriage was also having a stable home life. Battle liked to think he could give her that stability. He certainly made enough money to give her comfort. But his hours were odd and inconsistent. His Plans often taking him over seas and around the world. And, there was always the odd, off-chance that he might be caught and arrested. That would not be very stable, and that was one aspect of being a supervillain that never changed. Mara and Battle's marriage would be anything but traditional.
And if she came home to meet her children from the future, she might feel trapped by her fate. Or pressured into a permanent life with him. And if she felt pressured, she would leave. Nobody could force Mara Peace to do something she did not want to do.
Battle went into the kitchen and started taking out ingredients to make the exact same pancakes he made for their mother that very morning.
It was the single most surreal experience of Will's life. Being in a supervillain's home, being made breakfast by said supervillain. This was an experience they did not prepare him for in school. He didn't quite know what to do with himself. If he should sit. If he should remain standing. What he should do with his hands. What should he do with himself at all.
Warren at least seemed more comfortable and… at home.
He walked around the spartan living room. Noting the books on the shelves. The VHS tapes in the TV cabinet. The color of the carpet. The throw pillows he did not recognize. He went to crack open one of the doors off the living room and poked his head inside.
"Looking for something?" Will slid up next to his friend and whispered low enough so that Barron Battle couldn't hear.
"Just seeing what my room was before it was my room." He whispered back.
"You used to live here!" Will gasped a little bit louder than he meant to. This was a nice condo. He hadn't passed his realtor's exam for his licensee yet, but in their own time, a condo like this would be circling a million dollars! It was such a striking contrast to from where Warren currently lived back in their own time. A little run down one story house in one of the poor neighborhoods of the city.
Warren closed the door to the room he was looking in. "It was a long time ago."
"Need something from the armory?" Battle called from the kitchen, shouting across the condo.
No one in Will house shouted from room to room. If they needed something from someone in another room, they walked into that room and used their inside voices like civilized people!
"No." Warren called back, matching his father's volume. "Just looking."
Battle put two plates stacked with pancakes up on the counter. "Come eat before it gets cold."
Will and Warren exchanged a look. They hadn't eaten anything since they woke up, and it wasn't like there was anything better they had to do. The only thing they needed to do was be ready when the mad scientist arrived to send them back to their own time. Until then, what else were they going to do with their time? Battle already knew they were from the future, so that damage was done. At least this way they had another person besides the Broker who knew what they were going through.
They both sat at the kitchen bar.
Warren reached for the red pepper sauce before Battle even finished pulling it out. He loaded his pancakes up with the spicy sauce. Fire users liked it hot and Warren Peace was no exception.
Will looked at the other offered condiments. Syrup, butter, and marmalade. "Don't suppose you've got any whip cream and strawberries."
Battle paused, looking at him oddly.
Warren also looked up. He glanced from his father to his friend.
There was a beat.
"We don't have that fancy hero crap here." Warren finally said. He glared at Will then flicked his eyes at Battle. It was impossible for his friend to see the action, however, on account of his mask. Warren prayed the other man was smart enough to pick up on the cue. "Eat your butter like a normal person!"
He held the other man's eyes for a moment longer.
Then Will finally got it. He grabbed the syrup and drizzled it over his pancakes, the whole time looking unhappy. "As soon as we get back to 2010, I'm gonna eat a whole can of whipped cream."
"You do that." Warren nodded, taking a bite of his own pancakes.
Battle came around to sit at the kitchen bar with them. Squeezing in on the side next to his villain son whom scooted over to make room for him. Perhaps he should invest in an actual dining table. When it was just himself and Mara they didn't need one. The two of them could sit at the bar comfortable and rub thighs as they ate. But, sitting with his children, Battle realized, he'd much rather be able to see their faces as they talked. Families that had meals together should have a family dining table.
"Swinging back to the diamond," he said, "you're saying I didn't give your mother the diamond because I was afraid she wouldn't want a blood diamond."
"She would prefer conflict free." Villain Son confirmed.
"There's no such thing-" Battle began but was cut off by his Hero Son.
"It just seems like giving her a blood diamond shows a distinct law of consideration for her own values and beliefs." He explained. "If you're actually gonna claim to love someone, you have to be considerate of the things that they care about. Otherwise, you're just an asshole."
Battle frowned. Everything the hero said was completely true and he hated that such wisdom was coming from his Hero Son instead of his villain son. But he deflected the comment. "Are heroes allowed to use that kind of language in your time?"
"Oh, yeah!" Agreed Villain Son. "Heroes are even allowed to say 'fuck'! They're allowed one 'fuck' per case."
"You just said it twice." Hero pointed out.
"Yeah, but he's not a hero." Battle jumped in to defend his older boy. "Villains can curse as much as they want. Nobody expects us to be remodels." He cleared his throat. He wanted to stay on topic. "Okay, so, if I don't give her the diamond, what do I give her?"
…
