Superboy<br/>Location: Mt. Justice<br/>Tagged: Open<br/><hr/>Superboy remained silent. He looked straight ahead, and it was difficult to tell if he had heard her. And if he had heard her, what - if anything - he thought of her proposal. The flawed clone raised his glass to his lips and drained the glass. After he was finished he stood up, walked into the kitchen, and then turned on the water. He waited a moment for the water to warm, and then took a cloth, to which he applied a bit of dish soap, and washed out the glass he had been using. After doing a reasonable job cleaning the glass, he put it upside down in a drying rack and walked out of the common area without addressing Stargirl at any point.<br/><br/>The temperamental genome walked through the mountain's interior towards the exercise area. He bypassed the locker rooms, and went directly into the exercise area without bothering to change into something else. It was not something he felt necessary, and there was no one around to make him. And besides, he would go into the field the way he was. It was important to be comfortable the way he was, and not grow accustomed to a different attire.<br/><br/>Approaching a suspended punching bag, Superboy threw a few quick, experimental jabs at it. The piece of equipment stood up to it with a protesting thumping sound at each impact. The flawed clone continued to punch, trying out different angles and speeds and forces, but he always fell short of unleashing his full strength. All the while, he tried not to think about . . . anything. He tried to clear his mind, and enter a mental state free of preoccupation, anger, and worry. There was only limited success. Despite his best efforts, his mind rebelled and the memory of Superman spurning him returned. It played out, again and again, it crystal sharp detail. Superboy lost the battle, and his punches became more erratic, and more forceful. Eventually he snarled, and the image of Superman superimposed itself over the bag and the clone bit back a wail of anger and despair. A strong left hook put Superboy's fist through the bag and then sent the bag itself hurtling across the room. The walls were reinforced to withstand such things, but it left a mess as sand was propelled everywhere.<br/><br/>Superboy's chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, arm extended rigidly. There was no consolation for his troubled heart or mind.