Daredevil. Quite a name, if The Devil Of Hell's Kitchen didn't suffice. But then, Batman is called any number of things. World's Greatest Detective. The Dark Knight. It was good to know at least if they thought he was Daredevil, it didn't seem all bad.
"Uh, I'm not a kid," he says, grinning a little. Dr Strange sounds a lot like Clark in that regard. Kiddo, champ, buddy. But Tim has grown out of being a kid, and even if he's young, he's not fond of people thinking otherwise. "And I'm not a metahuman -- or, is that what they call people with powers in this universe? I don't have those. I'm completely human. No magic either." He tugged the cowl down, letting it hang off his neck like a hoodie. It revealed a young face, sure, but with its share of scars. Healed and fresh. Bright blue eyes and hair a bit long. "I fly, but it's because I use tools to help me. And technology."
He followed Dr Strange through the absolutely insane looking--house? What even was this place?
"This place is... I mean, wow. What is it, exactly?"
When Tim pulled off the cowl and Strange could see his face, he tipped his head in apology. Forty-five years old, and having lived through an unending span of trapped time in a time loop: he had a bad tendency to think everyone else was young now. Should probably work on that.
But more interestingly—
"Oddly, we don't really have a standardised term for it yet. I've heard enhanced, gifted, superhuman... there's Inhumans, too, but they're something else. You don't have any powers whatsoever? And your suit isn't powered by a nuclear reactor or anything?" It might be a batshit question, but he just sounded academic and intrigued while asking it, like someone asking what model car you drive. So. This newcomer was like Barton and Romanoff, then — although it always surprised him a little, when non-powered heroes pulled on the suit and jumped in to help regardless. People were so fragile and breakable. He should know.
While they spoke, he started leading them down the hall towards the kitchen. "The Sanctum is one of the homes of the Masters of the Mystic Arts. We defend this plane of existence from extradimensional threats. Which makes you incredibly relevant, but not a threat, I assume."
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portalling) wrote2022-04-03 01:00 pm
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"Uh, I'm not a kid," he says, grinning a little. Dr Strange sounds a lot like Clark in that regard. Kiddo, champ, buddy. But Tim has grown out of being a kid, and even if he's young, he's not fond of people thinking otherwise. "And I'm not a metahuman -- or, is that what they call people with powers in this universe? I don't have those. I'm completely human. No magic either." He tugged the cowl down, letting it hang off his neck like a hoodie. It revealed a young face, sure, but with its share of scars. Healed and fresh. Bright blue eyes and hair a bit long. "I fly, but it's because I use tools to help me. And technology."
He followed Dr Strange through the absolutely insane looking--house? What even was this place?
"This place is... I mean, wow. What is it, exactly?"
no subject
But more interestingly—
"Oddly, we don't really have a standardised term for it yet. I've heard enhanced, gifted, superhuman... there's Inhumans, too, but they're something else. You don't have any powers whatsoever? And your suit isn't powered by a nuclear reactor or anything?" It might be a batshit question, but he just sounded academic and intrigued while asking it, like someone asking what model car you drive. So. This newcomer was like Barton and Romanoff, then — although it always surprised him a little, when non-powered heroes pulled on the suit and jumped in to help regardless. People were so fragile and breakable. He should know.
While they spoke, he started leading them down the hall towards the kitchen. "The Sanctum is one of the homes of the Masters of the Mystic Arts. We defend this plane of existence from extradimensional threats. Which makes you incredibly relevant, but not a threat, I assume."