#envymachine 01

He had been so caught up he hadn’t even realized he nearly tripped over someone, until he was stumbling to get his balance. Turning a bit, he looked at the person- the bot- in question. The other reminded him much of a Zetsuborg, but without the lock or massive size. Blinking a few times, he looked at the other curiously.

“Are you alright, I hadn’t noticed you there, nomi...”

Who dressed you?!  Why do you look like a hoofbeast wrangler?!

You’re supposed to be your best dressed self here, not a chaos disaster!

[ Realistically, he was being dramatic.  Overly dramatic.  But, he was one to upkeep appearances and not look ridiculous.  And he felt this robot well...Looked ridiculous. ]

[ All while hollering about his terrible fashion sense, Tagora had pulled out a business card, shoving it into the robot’s torso. ]

Call me.  I’m going to teach you how to dress yourself.

A well and proper robot? Maybe even something more sophisticated. Interesting. He was beginning to become a hair agitated that so many other villains had apparently been dipping their toes into engineering back home. Mostly because anything they made was so inferior to his own designs that he felt insulted by them.

But this one, with the brain in it’s jar-- which he admits is quite the obvious weakpoint for heroes, though that’s a classic-- is something he hadn’t thought of himself. Truthfully, they looked like the good ol’ classic villain crony. A dying breed, if you asked Crow. So many henchman wanted to be unmasked nowadays-- so heroes couldn’t kill them under the League of Justice’s laws. Robots? Robots were an entirely different matter.

Wait, he’s reminiscing and not striking conversation again.

When Jon had initially fallen asleep, he’d been anxious. He didn’t know what sort of evil was waiting for him when he closed his eyes, but after two previous happy memories, he had relaxed some. The memories were nice, in a bittersweet sort of way. He had been happy back then, blissfully unaware of what he was or what was wrong with the world.

Even this memory, his fifth birthday, things had been somewhat perfect.

He was wearing a blue Superman shirt and sitting with two family friends when his mom and dad walked into the living room.

“Who’s ready for cake?” His mom asked, holding a cake with yellow icing and pink fringe, decorated with the number 5 on it.

“I AM!” Jon cheerfully replied, bouncing up from his spot on the floor as he carried a balloon.

Mr.Mongomery, the man who rented to his parents but was also a close friend, laughed and spoke to Clark. “’Bout time you got home, son. I was afraid you were going to miss the party.”

Mrs.Lynn scoffed from her seat, more amused by the comment. “Don’t be silly, Shel. The Clark White I know would never miss his boy’s birthday.”

“Right you are, Lynn.” Lois said with a smile, “He’s been flying around like a madman, trying to get everything we need for today.” The comment had been lost on Jon, not knowing the double meaning hidden in his mom’s words.

“Can I open my presents??” He asked excitedly.

Lois passed the cake to her husband and kissed Jon’s head. “Right after you make a wish honey.”

“Oh boy.” He was still excited, so he sat down between all four adults as they started singing to him. 

In the corner of the room, an older Jon sat, somewhat removed from the scene before him. “My birthdays were always pretty small. I didn’t have any other relatives.” He knew he wasn’t alone, though he didn’t quite know who else was watching with him. Finally, he turned to the other person watching.