"So did you try for the total poetic justice timing, or was that just luck?" Sam swooped over to hover next to Rich, grinning.
Hearing the man himself blow a hole in Prime's argument might even have been more satisfying than punching him in the face would've been.
Not that he could really afford more than that brief moment to feel smug about it, of course - because Rich was right, and the distraction was only that. It was a solid enough plan, though. "Well, speed is what we're best at."
He darted off from Rich, moving to put himself not only on a different side than Rich, but farther below. Three dimensions, that was easy enough. Superboy Prime, no matter how much he threw their way, was still one guy, and Sam's first battle had been cutting through the middle of a Chitauri armada. He could handle being shot at.
Now he just had to actually remember to use the ring instead of falling back on old instincts.
Getting it to work was still a little strange. He kept wanting to use it the way he controlled the Nova Force, or like he'd heard Hal describe the green rings - wanting it bad enough, putting in the will - but will wasn't what drove the Star Sapphires. Just wanting to make it happen wasn't good enough; he needed to feel something else to make it work. Love. How did you just...make yourself love?
He did the best he could. He thought about home.
The twenty-first century, where everything was familiar and comforting but the wonders of space were still just a flight out of orbit away. Watching normal football on ESPN instead of whatever cool but weird future sports were on. Tacos with real meat and not some wannabe soy substitute. Skateboarding to school. The house he'd grown up in, before they lost it. Mom. Kaelynn.
Dad.
It happened in almost the blink of an eye, like he didn't have it and didn't have it and then suddenly his mind just landed on exactly where it needed to be. In a violet flash, the space around Prime (in all directions, because three dimensions, take that) filled with a hail of soccer balls.
"I never liked playing goalie. Maybe you'll be better at it than me."
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Hearing the man himself blow a hole in Prime's argument might even have been more satisfying than punching him in the face would've been.
Not that he could really afford more than that brief moment to feel smug about it, of course - because Rich was right, and the distraction was only that. It was a solid enough plan, though. "Well, speed is what we're best at."
He darted off from Rich, moving to put himself not only on a different side than Rich, but farther below. Three dimensions, that was easy enough. Superboy Prime, no matter how much he threw their way, was still one guy, and Sam's first battle had been cutting through the middle of a Chitauri armada. He could handle being shot at.
Now he just had to actually remember to use the ring instead of falling back on old instincts.
Getting it to work was still a little strange. He kept wanting to use it the way he controlled the Nova Force, or like he'd heard Hal describe the green rings - wanting it bad enough, putting in the will - but will wasn't what drove the Star Sapphires. Just wanting to make it happen wasn't good enough; he needed to feel something else to make it work. Love. How did you just...make yourself love?
He did the best he could. He thought about home.
The twenty-first century, where everything was familiar and comforting but the wonders of space were still just a flight out of orbit away. Watching normal football on ESPN instead of whatever cool but weird future sports were on. Tacos with real meat and not some wannabe soy substitute. Skateboarding to school. The house he'd grown up in, before they lost it. Mom. Kaelynn.
Dad.
It happened in almost the blink of an eye, like he didn't have it and didn't have it and then suddenly his mind just landed on exactly where it needed to be. In a violet flash, the space around Prime (in all directions, because three dimensions, take that) filled with a hail of soccer balls.
"I never liked playing goalie. Maybe you'll be better at it than me."