#doomsdayes

tears have started to form, stinging the dark unblinking eyes that haven't managed to look away from his face. mouth hangs slightly open as balled fists press harshly against his thighs as his mind races for answers. another shapeshifter? a mirage? the possibilities are all too endless in a world full of supes. their lips close and open again, uselessly, in the first movement they've made in at least sixty seconds. their form wavers, shifting from one body to the next for one unsteady moment before settling on masculine features. dumbstruck expression melts into anger in the blink of an eye before he's pouncing forward, hands shoving into the other's shoulders and slamming him against the wall behind them. "what the fuck do you think you're doing?" the chorus of concerned voices from their friends fall on deafened ears as jordan presses his forearm to the impostor's neck, pressing forward until he sees he's struggling to breathe. "who the fuck do you think you are?" words gain more urgency, more rage, as energy collects and hums through their veins. "you think this shit is funny? huh? someone send you?" someone grabs his shoulder and yanks, hard, until the connection between them is broken. jordan takes another step forward, fist raised as their body shifts again, energy concentrating into a powerful blast even as their height shrinks. they lunge for him again, letting out an infuriated shout when their hand goes through the wall instead of the fucker's face. jordan turns her attention to andre where he stands protectively in front of "luke", hands raised in submission. "move." this fury isn't like her. at least, it wasn't always. something cracked when luke died. nothing ever feels quite the same after a loss like that, for anyone -- but not everyone is directly responsible for the death they suffer. not everyone could have saved them. that resentment bleeds into everything now, a disease that infects everything it touches. it overpours at the sight of someone -- anyone -- daring to wear luke's face. like it matters. like it'll make up for anything. "don't be stupid, andre." although she's addressing her friend, jordan's eyes never leave luke's. "i don't want to hurt you, but i'll move you." the venom that drips from their words would surprise even them if they weren't so preoccupied. i let him down once. i won't do it again. they lunge again, power surging to each of their hands now as they prepare to shove andre aside, until the orange light that flares in luke's eyes stops them in their tracks. wrath turns to disbelief turns to anguish turns to something entirely unreadable as their hands fall back to their sides. "what the fuck...?" one step backward, then another. "you're... this is..." she hears her voice crack. "fuck." he morphs again, clearing his throat before shoving andre out of the way. this time, however, there's no threat behind his eyes as he reaches forward and pulls luke -- golden boy, number one, his greatest foil and his greatest friend -- into a bone crushing hug. there's a long moment of silence as logic and emotion battle for control of their actions. endless questions, all the things left unsaid swirl in a torrent of thoughts as fresh tears burn behind their screwed - shut eyes. and just as quickly as it came, the moment ends when jordan pulls back with a weak laugh that's made of something between overwhelming relief and unresolved grief. they reach out and shove his shoulder with an open palm with a shake of their head, trying to ignore the burning doubt still bubbling in their chest. "being number one wasn't enough for you, huh? you just had to go and make yourself the supe messiah by coming back from the dead." a few seconds of hesitation are all they can allow before they're pulling him back again. they shift again, with a sniffle this time, as her arms wrap around his back and squeeze. "you goddamn idiot. i missed you."