Ambedo

Meeting

I do NOT own any canon DC characters or concepts used in this story. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero.

Ambedo (n):  A kind of melancholic trance in which you are completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—briefly soaking in the experience of being alive. An act that is done purely for its own sake.

                                  -definition from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

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Gotham.

Plumes of smoke from the factories blocking out the sun and the moon most nights. The lights taking the shine from the stars themselves. Seemingly endless waves of gunfire most nights and the sound of screeching wheels carrying away victims to hospitals or crooks back to their hideouts.

Problems seem to be constantly popping  up here. One goes away just to be replaced or constantly released from a maximum security asylum that believes in continuous rehabilitation. 

So different from Metropolis, grittier and darker; it's no wonder Batman is the way he is. Each time I visit, The sights and sounds are a hollow reminder of the darkness that lurks in the world. That's not to say Metropolis is a shining beacon of perfection. Any claim of a crime free city anywhere on the globe is a lie. It has its low lives that try to cheat their way to any form of success. Rich or poor, it doesn't matter because criminals come in all shapes and sizes. Taking advantage of those that look for help when they can't stand on their own or fight for themselves, only to be ignored or beaten down by the very people they sought help from. Worse still, there are those that push every problem or person in need onto someone else, just to watch them struggle.

Each government finds ways to cover up how they are failing their citizens, getting blatantly negligent in some cases. Thankfully, Metropolis has yet to fall that low. I'm not naive. The main reason for this is because of me. No one wants to get on Superman's bad side. Many have tried and failed, some even losing their lives trying to end mine...

There are times when I just sit back and wonder why I do all of this. I know I wanted to fight for humanity and their right to survive. To give them a chance, unlike what happened to Mars and Krypton.  Instead, I get scorn for my existence, get seen as a prize, and will have a giant target on my back forever. 

I'm just so tired most days now. Malicious monotony has become the agenda forced upon me from day-to-day.

Consequently, living like this has given me the best friends anybody could ask for. Aside from Ma and Pa, it feels like they're the only ones that actually care about me. Even as Clark Kent, they always have my back; despite how he tries to act, Bruce is my friend (my best friend). And Lois... Lois Lane... I don't know what I feel for her anymore. Whenever I'm Clark, she belittles me at the office or in the field. On the other hand, when I'm Superman, she seems to throw herself into every near death situation that most supers wouldn't even go into alone. Even Batman knows when to pull back and get help. Once, I thought I loved her. I felt so sure that she was what I needed in my life to be happy, but now, I just don't know.

Flying helps me clear my head when I get into these kinds of moods. The city lights zooming past underneath me in mesmerizing streaks. Crisp and sharp, just enough of a rush for me to work the nerves out. I can just take things slow and feel the wind hitting my face. Too bad I don't have that luxury tonight. Apparently, the Legion of Doom were supposed to be meeting up somewhere. Batman was already patrolling the Northern side, and I was headed to the West. Nothing turned up in the Southern and Eastern areas for now.  I had just got to the docks when I heard shouting. 

"Get the fuck off me", a young woman was struggling in the hold of some random thug. Of course in a cliché  alley.

Helping her was the right thing to do —I wouldn't just let something happen. Ignoring crime is something I have a hard time doing, Pa has made it clear that I have more brawn than brain sometimes. Still, I have noticed that I've been more reluctant to stick around for too long. I mean, why is it so hard to be treated like a person. The majority of other heroes get more normality than I do, people treat them like older siblings, close friends and the like. The rest are seen as celebrities but they aren't put on some kind of pedestal like I am. Diana can walk around as Wonder Woman or Wally can zoom past, and they're just friendly icons. Yet somehow, I'm given shit because everyone thinks that I think I'm some kind of god —which I don't— but somehow we've gotten to this point. I've always just wanted to be of help, that's it. It's not like I'm an emotionless husk. I still feel pain even without people throwing kryptonite at me from every direction. 

Would it be so much to ask for to just have someone outside of all this mess to talk to.

Superman needs someone to save him too. No one would understand that though, and I've begrudgingly made my peace with that. 

More shouting. Duty doesn't call, it screams.

He's trying to wrestle her purse out of her hands. I'll swoop in, the guy gets scared and either runs or "fights" back. All ending with the girl trying to cling to me any way she can. Ridiculous. 

Before my feet could even touch the ground behind him, she'd already sucker punched him. Watching him hit the ground with a thud, my only thought is that she had a pretty good right hook. In spite of the no-named thug sprawled out in the miscellaneous scum in front of me, apparently she still couldn't see me. I doubt that mattered, she wasn't trying to turn away from him just yet. Must be to make sure he wasn't faking it and waiting for her to turn her back.

"Already told you not to put your hands on me, asshole." She  muttered. Shooting one last glare, she turned away and started trudging towards the other end of the alleyway. Whatever came over me in that instant will remain a mystery. I don't know why I did it but something wanted me to stop her.

"Wait!" She froze, her stance was tense and still a slight tremble shook her shoulders. Fist clenched so tight the knuckles were white.

Turning around, she shouted into the darkness, "who's there?". Apparently she still couldn't see me. Which is weird, since I wasn't standing too far away from the lamp she was under. Before I could even respond she shouted again, "I'm 230 lbs of whoop-ass in a can and I'm not afraid to crack it open!" Shifting her weight lower but still stable, she looked ready for anything to jump out at her. Even though she tried not to show it she was getting more scared. Her heartbeats were thundering in my ears. I wasn't trying to scare but for some reason I just couldn't get my body to move.

~What's wrong with you? MOVE CLARK!~

My brain being as helpful as it is, realized how small she is. My height has never felt like that big of a difference. Most people are shorter than me but she just looked so small. Her eyes were wide as she stared upward. Purse forgotten on the ground next to her.

~What was she staring at?~

"Who...Wha—Superman?"

~I'm an idiot.~

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I'm back with a new story that's been on my mind for awhile. Hope you guys enjoy this one too. Let me know what you think as we go on because I don't think I'll be putting as many author's notes in this one. Don't worry, I'll  still be working on the other stories so be on the lookout for more updates. Stay safe!!!