Chapter Text
Plastic man stared. Eyes unfocused. Into the vast expanse of space. The Watchtower hummed around him, rotating at an almost imperceptible rate. The conversations behind him fade into the hum. He shouldn’t be here, but Woozy said it would be good to get away for a few hours. “You alright over there Plas,” Superman called from behind him. Twisting his midsection around he smiled, “Oh me, I’m great!” Plas had never craved a cigarette so bad in his life. It made his teeth itch. “ Probably gonna head out early.” Not waiting for a response, Plas stretched over the table and out of the room. They watched as he left.
The sound of the Teleporter rumbled through the walls, and finally, Wonder Woman broke the silence that had formed. “I’m worried about him.” Kyle Rayner, Green Lantern, nodded in agreement. “He’s been weird all day. Well, weird for Plastic Man. He barely spoke!” Superman swiveled his chair to face the Flash. “Explain again what happened last night?” The Speedster shrugged. “Not much to tell. He was on monitor duty. Called me at midnight, and said he had a family emergency. So I took over for him.”
Superman rubbed the back of his neck. “Huh, Never really considered that he had a family.” One by one guilt clouded over their faces, as they looked at one another. Plas talked a lot, but what did he ever say about himself? None of them had bothered to ask. The exception is Batman, of course, but never asks, he just finds out. “Kyle, you should go talk to him.” Wonder Woman offered, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You spend the most time with him.” Kyle crossed his arms. “Yeah, but we never talk about anything serious.” Batman stood up sliding past Kyle on his way out. “Now is a good time to start.” Kyle sighed, he was right.
Kyle followed Plastic Man’s coordinates, teleporting to an alley in Brooklyn. Powered down, he stepped out into the street and began typing out a message to Plas on his phone. Kyle stopped when a tall man walked out of the corner bodega ahead of him. Black pants, red shirt, white goggles tucked into the back pocket. “Plas?” Kyle called out tentatively. The man turned around, eyebrows raised.
“Kyle, what are you doing here? Did something happen?” He asked, coming close. “You're not…shiny,” Kyle replied, caught off guard. When meeting Plas a few years ago he had been so put off by his appearance. Shiny, perfectly smooth skin, no pores or wrinkles. Except when he smiled. Plas was a walking PVC mannequin. Seeing him now, as a normal middle-aged man, it felt almost wrong.
Plas smiled. His first real smile of the day. “This is what I looked like before my accident.” He popped a cigarette in his mouth, as he spread his arms out. Giving Kyle a good look. “You’re older than I thought you were. No offense.” Plas waved him off. “None taken, I’m frozen at thirty-five. No matter what I look like.” Plas lit up the cigarette, storing the lighter and pack inside his body. Yup, this was Plastic Man. “So why are you here?”
Kyle rocked on his heels. May as well be honest. “You just seem down today. I thought I’d come to check on you.” Plas exhaled a puff of smoke. “It’s nothing, I just have a lot on my mind.”
Kyle crossed his arms. “Since when do you smoke?” Plas grinned, biting the cig between his teeth. “You sound like the nuns.” He remarked. “ Cut me a break, this is my first one in three years.” Kyle nodded. “It must be pretty serious then.” Plas’s smile went flat. He looked tired. Kyle used his ring to fly them up onto the rooftop. “I’m pretty sure this is kidnapping,” Plas remarked.
They sat on the edge of the roof, their feet dangling off the edge. “It feels weird to call you Plastic Man when you look like that.” The older man glanced over at him. “ Patrick O’Biren, but everyone calls me Eel.” He offered his hand to Kyle, who shook it. Then they were quiet for a while. It was different, being quiet with Eel, who was always joking or rambling about something stupid.
Right now he just sat, glassy blue eyes heavy, as he looked out over the street. Smoke swirled up from his mouth into the cold night. Kyle could see it in his body he was agitated. Shoulders rounded and high. Clenching and unclenching his hands.
Kyle waited until Eel lit a second cigarette. “So are you going to tell me what happened?” Eel sighed. He wanted to scream it from this rooftop. Maybe that when lighted that weight in his chest, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t face the fullness of it yet. So he met it halfway instead. Rubbing out his cigarette he confessed. “My son was in an accident last night.” Kyle turned to him, Eyes wide. “You have a son? I mean, is he okay?” Eel looked out into the city like the void of space. Unbothered by Kyle’s surprise. “He’s stable now.” Kyle felt a pit grow in his stomach, there was something else.
“Luke, that’s a good name. How old is he?” Eel faced him. That familiar smile tugged at his lips. “Twelve, although he’s quick to remind me he’s nearly thirteen.” Eel looked down, a look of shame washing over him. “I didn’t know about him until he was ten.” Kyle frowned and opened his mouth to speak. “Don't pity me. You know the story. I was a thug long before he was here and too long after.” Eel interjected as he stood. To pace back and forth on the ledge of the building.
“Can you believe she recognized me?” He morphed back to his shiny body, for a moment. “ Saw me on T.V. next to Superman. Decided maybe I deserved a chance to meet my boy. My Angel…” He stopped, cursing himself for slipping up. She hadn’t been his Angle. Not for over a decade. He cleared his throat roughly. “His mother, Angle, offered to have him tested to prove it. I laughed at her. He looks just like me.”
Kyle knew he wasn’t really talking to him anymore. Eel’s eyes looked wet, straining to keep from crying. Kyle stood, as Eel turned away from him. “Eel, what happened to Angel last night.” Neither of them could hear the city anymore.
“Kyle, did I ever tell you that my mother died when I was thirteen.” His voice was choked, his body didn’t want these words to escape. It made it real to say it. Eel bitterly wiped away tears. Kyle kept his distance, uncertain of how to proceed.
“Does Luke know?”
If Plas said anything he didn't hear him. Not over the sound of the explosion below them. A massive plume of purple flame came roaring out of the sewer. Fire bursting manhole covers out of the ground. The force shattered windows down the block. “Let's go.” Plastic Man said, stretching down to the street. “Wait, Plas, I’ll handle it. You should get back to the hospital.”
Plas didn't look back at him. “ It could be hours before Luke is coherent, I may as well be useful.” He was already lowering himself down into the sewer. Kyle tried calling after him, eventually giving up to fly after him.
Using his ring Kyle lit up the space around them. Chill damp air made them shiver. “What do you think could make a blast like that?” Lantern asked. A shrill screech came howling from down the tunnel. Both men covered their ears, the sound piercing threw their skulls. “I think it might be down there.” Plas sarcastically replied. Kyle flew them down the tunnel, avoiding the slimy dark water below them.
The tunnel opened to a much larger chamber that dropped down into a dark abyss. “It's too quiet here,” Plas whispered. Both men could feel it. Something in this place was wrong. The darkness was different, As though you could reach out and touch it. “Hey, just let me call someone else. Go be with your boy.” Kyle offered again. “GL I appreciate it, I really do, but-“
A strong gust of wind came up from the darkness, knocking them back, and Kyle cried out. The two began falling. The ring lights the way down. Plastic Man managed to reach Kyle as he formed into a ball cushioning the impact. They splashed into warm water. An acrid sour smell washed over them as they broke the stagnant surface.
Plas reformed holding Kyle, eyes watering from the stench. That oppressive darkness still gripped them. The ring only illuminated a few feet around them, and Plas saw the gash in The Lantern's side.
“GL, Lantern, Kyle!” Plas shook him gently, but Kyles only limply moved his head. “I should have listened to you,” Plas Whispered to himself. His rubber skin rippled, and he searched the darkness. Someone was watching them. “Who’s there!” he shouted. The blackness disoriented him. If Plas couldn’t feel the water around his ankles, you could convince him he was suspended in an endless void. He shouted again, searching up above him, hoping to see the shaft they fell through.
There was a pinprick of light, he noticed, just outside the reach of the light. He moved toward it, stopping, when the light multiplied to two, then five.
In the green glow of light, a tall figure melted out of the shadows. stepping forward on bird-like feet. Plas pulled Kyle closer. The creature's five eyes fanned out over its white disk-like face. They blinked in unison at him. It was like an owl. “You should not be here.” Its voice is like the rumble of a furnace.
“Did you-Did you do this.”Plas meant to shout it, but it came out soft. It flapped its large black wings. The feathers on its long neck and chest bristled. It raised its hand, human-like and bone white like its face, fingers tipped with long thick claws. Plas instinctively wrapped one arm around the creature's neck. It didn't flinch, only blinked again. “Please, I only wish to help.”
A purple flame emerged from the creature's open palm. Plas’s grip on its neck tightened. “He will die.” Eel felt sick loosening his hold as the flame wafted over from its hand and into Kyle's wound. The flesh coming back together. Kyle groaned and then sighed in relief. “He will sleep for some time, You must follow me.”
Plas moved Kyle onto this back. Tendril of his body kept him in place. The creature swept past. Plas noticed the glint of metal in its opposite hand. A sword. “Lantern was right, I should call back up.” The creature flapped its wings, agitated. “It is too late for that. You are no longer on earth.” Plastic Man squinted trying to see more of the creature.
“Fat chance, I’m listening to you.” He stretched up quickly, only to have his body pulled back. He tried again this time he was pushed down by what he did not know, but it nearly knocked him off balance. “It’s not you, but your friend.” It said gesturing to the unconscious Lantern. “He cannot leave, my opponent took his blood. He is trapped here until I find his enchanter.”
Plastic Man perked up. The word enchanter caught his attention. “Magic! Of all the heroes to get sucked into this…it had to be me.” Plastic Man lamented. “You must follow me. Neither of you will survive unless you go back to Earth alone.”
Plas furrowed his brow, his goggles going U-shaped. “Fat chance of that.” He quipped. The creature nodded, “It is your choice, O’Brien.” Plas cringed, he needed to keep his distance from this thing. It knew his name, and who knows what else. “What are you anyway, Where are we?” The creature blinked its eyes and came close in a single stride.
“ You are in Hell Patrick O’brian.”