for heatvisions | power corrupts
Oct. 3rd, 2024 09:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
borntoreignFrankly, it's not even the raw power that first interests him. It's the reputation, which has long since left the boundaries of one small planet and spread out in an undirected way that Casimir - who has worked for his own reputation, and spent a lifetime curating it across a hundred worlds - is frankly envious of.
Purity is such a difficult thing to capture, after all. It's the one thing he's never even tried to lay claim to - it's too fragile to build anything upon, too easily disturbed by one wrong move or tactical mistake. And yet it's powerful, too: the idea that somewhere, even a dozen light-years away, someone is truly good is enough to capture the imagination. If it is possible for someone to be innocent and uncorruptible, then that is a marvellous thing. It can comfort the afflicted, strengthen the faithless, give hope to those in despair.
He can't have something like that just floating around in the universe, giving people ideas, fomenting unrest. It needs to be his.
He doesn't rush. He does his research, lays the groundwork. He approaches initially without the trappings of power, making himself seem as ordinary as he can be (which, he would say, is not very ordinary at all: it is not the crown that makes a king, after all). He adapts as he goes, small shifts in how he carries himself, meant to suit the audience. Superman is a farm boy, so Casimir recalls the harsh mountains of his home planet, speaks of the herds as though he had been the one driving them. Superman is warm and friendly, so Casimir shifts his energy accordingly, smiling often and keeping his tone gentle. Superman is a hero. Casimir, not for the first time, makes himself one too, mentions nothing of his conquest and makes much of his good deeds, of monsters fought and civilisations saved.
It doesn't really change anything, of course. It's all just appearances, the stories told to one another. None of it is untrue, and none of it is true. It's just a matter of perspective.
And by the same token, when he does manage to worm his way into the Kryptonian's good graces, he measures his approach to Superman's there, too. They have had several meetings now which have ended in - to Casimir's mind - extremely bland, unsatisfying sex, the kind where he's had to use his imagination and the hoped-for future to get hard at all. It's worthwhile, in the long run, but it's boring. Worse: it does absolutely nothing to knock the shine off Superman's image, and as a result, Casimir still feels he doesn't know the man at all. Nobody is actually pure. He wants to know what's underneath.
In the end, it isn't his own planning that changes things. It's a longer cascade, which he does nothing to prevent: his outriders too close to Earth, a fight expanding into a battle, and the next thing you know, it isn't Casimir Zarek, humble mountain herdsman, paying visits to Earth's strongest hero; it's Superman being cuffed with shackles holding just enough kryptonite to keep things under control, and pushed down at the feet of the Emperor of the Vasi Quadrant.
"Well." Casimir smiles crookedly, wryly self-effacing. "This is a little awkward."
This is perfect.
Purity is such a difficult thing to capture, after all. It's the one thing he's never even tried to lay claim to - it's too fragile to build anything upon, too easily disturbed by one wrong move or tactical mistake. And yet it's powerful, too: the idea that somewhere, even a dozen light-years away, someone is truly good is enough to capture the imagination. If it is possible for someone to be innocent and uncorruptible, then that is a marvellous thing. It can comfort the afflicted, strengthen the faithless, give hope to those in despair.
He can't have something like that just floating around in the universe, giving people ideas, fomenting unrest. It needs to be his.
He doesn't rush. He does his research, lays the groundwork. He approaches initially without the trappings of power, making himself seem as ordinary as he can be (which, he would say, is not very ordinary at all: it is not the crown that makes a king, after all). He adapts as he goes, small shifts in how he carries himself, meant to suit the audience. Superman is a farm boy, so Casimir recalls the harsh mountains of his home planet, speaks of the herds as though he had been the one driving them. Superman is warm and friendly, so Casimir shifts his energy accordingly, smiling often and keeping his tone gentle. Superman is a hero. Casimir, not for the first time, makes himself one too, mentions nothing of his conquest and makes much of his good deeds, of monsters fought and civilisations saved.
It doesn't really change anything, of course. It's all just appearances, the stories told to one another. None of it is untrue, and none of it is true. It's just a matter of perspective.
And by the same token, when he does manage to worm his way into the Kryptonian's good graces, he measures his approach to Superman's there, too. They have had several meetings now which have ended in - to Casimir's mind - extremely bland, unsatisfying sex, the kind where he's had to use his imagination and the hoped-for future to get hard at all. It's worthwhile, in the long run, but it's boring. Worse: it does absolutely nothing to knock the shine off Superman's image, and as a result, Casimir still feels he doesn't know the man at all. Nobody is actually pure. He wants to know what's underneath.
In the end, it isn't his own planning that changes things. It's a longer cascade, which he does nothing to prevent: his outriders too close to Earth, a fight expanding into a battle, and the next thing you know, it isn't Casimir Zarek, humble mountain herdsman, paying visits to Earth's strongest hero; it's Superman being cuffed with shackles holding just enough kryptonite to keep things under control, and pushed down at the feet of the Emperor of the Vasi Quadrant.
"Well." Casimir smiles crookedly, wryly self-effacing. "This is a little awkward."
This is perfect.
