by Michele | Oct 25, 2017 | Chronicles
Dinah: Wayne Manor has a front door. Who knew, right? Me, if we’re being technical, but I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve entered the place through it, and still have some fingers left for a peace sign. Definitely for flipping someone off, or a thumbs up. When Tim and I had come to talk with Damian I’d feigned confusion about the road we were taking, to go along with the discomfort at the limousine transport. I knew Batman long before I knew Bruce Wayne in any shape or form. Didn’t exactly come from the same neighborhood, or walk in the same circles unless you looked only at our alter egos. I spent a lot of time in the caves below, and that’s an entirely different route. Years spent working with Bruce, training with him and simultaneously helping train his official proteges.
Different sets of lessons though. I needed help with direction and restraint. Sixteen year old me had already been training with Ted Grant for ten years, and I was hurting, angry, and had a nasty streak. Like turning Mean Girls into an R Rated action flick. I almost surely made for a brutal sparring partner or instructor because I didn’t think I had the time or patience for it. Price of admission, though. Stephanie and Roy don’t know how great they’ve got it. This place, and the souls that inhabit it, mean something to the city at large. No, people don’t know who’s under the masks, the cowls, or in my case the stage makeup, but they stand for something. For me? It’s family. Yeah, the other things too but I systematically lost everyone I cared about only to find a crew that could understand me better than anyone since my Grandmother.
So to say I get a little… touchy about things that effect them is an understatement. The Waynes are mine. Not in an official way, like the papers that tie them all together as a family but that doesn’t actually matter to me. I defend mine. Even from one another, if I feel the need. I don’t know if that’s why Helena called me in the first place, or if she just wanted backup of her own. Either way, I’m here. Both in Gotham, and flying up the drive on my bike.
One doesn’t just simply walk into Wayne Manor. You have to get past the gatekeeper. And if you think Alfred Pennyworth isn’t a very good barrier, especially with the kinds of enemies Waynes and Bats have, then you’re an idiot.
“Alfred! Looking handsome and suave as ever.”
He’s also not spared the way I talk to everyone. Outrageous wink, saucy grin and flirtatious tone as I lean in the door frame, propped up by an elbow.
“Dick in?”
I really want to ask after The Dick, but… it’s Alfred. Also if I’m too rude there’s a chance there might not be dessert for me to pilfer and we don’t want that.
Dick: Let’s take a moment to just acknowledge who and what Alfred Pennyworth is. He isn’t merely a man servant. Nor is just the patriarchal Grandfather-Figure. In fact the latter might well be something of an insult, given that Alfred is barely old enough to be Bruce’s Father. That does not mean he did not accept the role when Bruce’s Parents died. Bruce became the man’s Ward. Angry, Embattled, Bitter and Drive. Yet, a ward of Pennyworth in every since of the word. People look, rather looked, at Batman all of those years and wondered how the hell Bruce Wayne created such a figure when the steward of the Cave was such a kindly, if handsome man like Alfred Pennyworth. Always o prim and proper in his dapper suit and tie. Ready to arm the world with one pastry at a time, along with a cup of tea.
The answer is rather simplistic: Alfred Pennyworth once put a man in intensive car with a sugar spoon. All it took was threatening the suggestion of mugging the rich kid, while Bruce was in finishing school. People who under-estimate Alfred Pennyworthy’s humble, yet refined, pinache are soon to regret it. A simple background search wouldn’t even tell you half of the man’s story, but British Special Services and nearly a decade at MI5, would leave most people asking where he found the time to know how to get those creme puffs so proper.
I do my best with the tools the creator gave me, madame.
He also manages not to rise to the bait of Dinah’s behavior.
Isn’t he always of late, Mum? Right this way. I have some apple tart waiting for you in the social. Be careful, the tea is hot, but I added a touch of spiced rum to take the edge off. Of it and you, I should say.
Never one to miss an opportunity. For the dig over Barbara and I not being out in the City like some of our other family members or the opportunity to display his near-omniscient ability to predict visitor’s arrivals and anticipate their whims. Jack-of-all-Trades. Purveyor of comfort. Alfred Pennyworth is also quick to lead Dinah to the larger of the Manor’s offices. Where he’s equally expedient in abandoning his current charge, to the cutting figure of Dinah Lance. Leaving the two of us alone, without apologies for interrupting me.
Not that I seem to be doing much. There’s a stack of books far older than the Manor itself, in multiple stacks all across the desk. Some of which have found a spot on the floor or the couch. There are obvious signs of Alfred making an effort to tidy, only for a new mess to have been recreated or in the process of such all around. Despite the mess, it’s clear that something is going on here. Though a glance at various titles seem more to suggest History lessons than detective work.
“Hey, Dinah. You should have called ahead, I would have sent the car for you. I’m told you loved the limo.” Peeking out from behind the overly large desk, with a chipper wave of the hand and quick smile. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here last time. I was meeting with Helena.”
Dinah: “I’m not entirely sure that’s true.”
Because I’m pretty sure he could do a lot more with them, but that’s part of the charm. And the ruse. In a way, Alfred Pennyworth is my exact opposite. He’s the unassuming, humble one that could rip you apart with said teaspoon. I’m the freaking Black Canary and a lot more comfortable in that role, but even outside of it will unabashedly let someone know I could and will beat them to an inch of their life. And let them know that they’ll probably enjoy it while it’s happening.
“Ah, see, you always know just what to say to a girl. Thanks, Alfred.”
Isn’t he always? Hah. Well. Thanks for the tip off and confirmation, which get a quirked eyebrow and a hint of a smirk. He’s ready with sweets and booze. There’s a dig for Dick. And a dig for me, because clearly my cheery, flirty tone hasn’t completely hidden the look in my eyes that is purposeful and indignant. Then again, maybe I laid it on a little thick with my choice of wardrobe for the day. The Black Canary, and even just ‘plain Dinah lance,’ is provocative and in your face. She knows what she’s got and she flaunts it if it suits her. I’m as comfortable in faded, if tight, jeans and a loose teeshirt though. Motorcyle boots and jacket, that I’ve unzipped to display in happy, curly font the slogan of ‘What doesn’t kill me better run.’
It’s laundry day. It was laundry day three days ago. I don’t like doing it and so I was left with this or the Canary suit. I let Alfred have my jacket, without any fuss or argument because I do have manors for the people that are worth of a display of them. Blue eyes rove the architecture that’s a lot less familiar to me than what is hidden underground, as I slink after the Wayne family Butler turned Patriarch and let him lead me to where, I’m assuming, Dick is or where he’ll summon him to.
“You aren’t using the proper tone for the level of sarcasm Tim probably used.”
We had perfectly good bikes to ride. Or a less flashy car. Mostly, it boils down to the fact that I don’t like anyone else but me behind the driver’s wheel, or handlebars. Control issues, maybe. Or paranoia. Instead of building features now I’m taking in books. Clearly he’s researching something, but the subject matter is iffy to guess from what I can see in front of me. Instead of a chair, I park my ass on the edge of the desk. Better to loom and snoop at what he’s looking over.
“And if I’d called, then you would have known I was coming.”
Maybe conveniently also not been here again. We hadn’t come to talk to him the last time, but it probably would have been a lot better to have all the boys in the room at the same time. Boys. Dick’s actually older than me, but that’s a point that doesn’t effect how I talk to him in the least.
“Oh? How did that go?”
Dick: If Alfred Pennyworth agrees with Dinah’s assessment? You’ll never know from the way he has this humble ability to blush upon command. It’s enough to leave you wondering if he was as good an actor as he was at, apparently, everything else. Normal people just aren’t as polite as he is. Nor at they as good at predicting the wants, needs or whims of everyone around them. Alfred is dialed in. Not just to the one he’s serving, but to the people in that circle. He is the man in the chair, the man at your bedside and the man who picks you up when you’ve fallen. That isn’t to say he always dusts you though. Sometimes when Alfred picks you up, it’s for the purpose of knocking you back down to insure you’ve learned from your mistakes.
His ‘retreat’ from the room is as tactical as anything I’ve ever seen. Even going as far as to pull the two double doors closed, to insure we’re not interrupted. Or at least, not until Alfred himself is ready to permit that to happen. True to his word, there are goodies awaiting for Dinah. Along with a tray of other assorted pastries and a cup of Earl Gray that is luke-warm by this point. Yet more indicators for the savy mind that would tell someone of my lack of appetite -or- the fact that these History books have been important enough to keep me from remembering -to- eat.
Dinah’s outfit is almost a stark opposite of my own. A sports jacket is over the back of the main desk’s chair. With the vest hanging open loose and the shirt sleeves rolled up? It gives me a look of being sophisticated enough to have been out at work at Wayne Industries. Yet, also shows all of the signs of my hunkering down here to ‘work’ on whatever it is I’m researching. Even a sharp detective like Dinah is going to have trouble seeing the pattern of book titles though. The only common thread here is History. All of it is physical books, that haven’t made their way in to an online format. Hands to pages. No search feature. All put together it’s easy to see why I’ve been off the radar, because there’s just no easy or fast way to get through this much material.
“It wasn’t really sarcasm, so much as a sinister mirth. Apparently Tim’s got a flare for seeing you squirm. Something tells me he’s far behind on points in that particular game though.”
Rising out of the chair I’ve been occupying, in an effort to square the two of us up. Call it an old habit. You don’t face this particular young woman in a sparring session, any other way than head on. I liken it to facing off with a Tiger. They size you up for weaknesses before they even know if you’d be good to eat. It’s second nature. Showing weakness determines a lot of things before you’ve even said a word. This is about giving Dinah a clear look. There’s no shaggy beard. I’m not an unwashed heathen. Despite the appearance of the books from a Library, the sheer amount of them and the type of it. I’m not wasting away. I’ve not been hold up in the Manor, depressed and distraught. Nor consumed by anger, guilt or fear. There are aspects of those things in my life, but I’ve not let them consume or control me.
Clearly though, I’m as driven as the next guy. Apparently I’ve just decided to brush up on the History of Gotham, by way of the entire world. Circa the Dark Ages. “Ah, but that’s a misnomer. I knew someone was coming, because Alfred started baking. The number of potential Visitors was reduced by virtue of what he was baking and what he was brewing. The hint of rum spice he added, lowered the possibilities down to you or Selina. Alfred doesn’t dress up for Selina. Plus, he isn’t walking about muttering about Trollops. So that left you, Dinah.”
“About as well as you might expect. Games. On top of Games. Answers wrapped in cryptic riddles. She said she needed to make contact with you, too.” A thin eyebrow lifts just the tiniest bit, almost perfectly timed with the marginal smirk that’s forming. “Wait. You didn’t really think I was going to start sharing now. When I know you’re here to lecture me? Gosh, Dinah. You’re out of practice. You get to lecture me -or- talk to me. Not both. I’m not Ollie.”
Dinah: “Evil mastermind, and he does try, bless his little heart.”
The shake of my head is almost mournful at the state of poor Tim Drake, who tries very hard to put me off my game sometimes, but that isn’t entirely new. Dick had moved out of Gotham City by the time that Bruce had brought me into the fold. Which meant that twelve year old Tim had sixteen year old Dinah to deal with. Yeah. The score’s not anywhere close to even. I’d have to give up and let him gain some ground and I’m just not willing to do that. If girls can be said to be cocky? That would probably have been a descriptor for me for almost all of my life. Confidence comes with superpowers, apparently. It did for me. And combat prowess. I’ve always been hard to rattle, or put off.
His rising, and taking away my height advantage is fine by me and I don’t shift to regain it. It wouldn’t work. He’s taller than me. But I’d forced him to move, dictating our posture and positioning. Running a conversation is about so much more than just the words. Or the big desk chairs. The books are strange, and definitely not an area of my forte. I know the streets, I know the turns and who’s got fingers in what pies but history and I weren’t always fast friends. It wasn’t immediately applicable to my actual hobbies. I didn’t know that it was for him either, so that means there’s a point. Ideally a point towards all of our mutual problem. I think I’d be more irate than I already am if it’s not.
“I don’t know if I should be insulted or gratified that I don’t get that particular label. Kudos for the process of elimination though, and your end, and correct, conclusion.”
I can’t lecture and talk to him? Hah. Well. He can certainly think that. The smirk, the look on his face, I don’t actually rise to the bait in it. Instead, there’s a pause and actual honest to God silence, as I pick up my tea cup for my drink, and the booze that it’s got inside of it. Mostly the booze, frankly. A slow, delicate sip thanks to the warning of the heat, followed by a gratified sigh at how good it is. Heat, and then the kick of an entirely different sort down your throat. I don’t know that it’ll be enough to take any edge off me, but it’s delicious anyway. Carefully setting the cup down, with much more care for Alfred’s china than I show for much else in my best imitation of a prim and proper lady. Hah. Right.
“Oh. I know you aren’t Oliver Queen.”
Oliver Queen wouldn’t be holed up reading books in the study while someone else was calling themselves Batman. But for all I know, Dick’s wrapped up in what he’s doing with Barbara, and neither Damian or Tim has seen fit to clue him in on that fact.
“But I did come to talk to you. Funny enough, about the process of elimination and the only option left standing. Would you care to explain to me why your brother is being forced to put on the cowl? You should probably use small words. Simple terms. I’m no Rhodes scholar, and I just don’t seem to be able to understand.”
Dick: “One of the things I learned in the first six months of knowing Tim, back before he was brought in to the family. I’m talking about when he was trying to convince Bruce to bring him in to the fold. It’s that if you play a game, any game really, with Tim for any length of time? He eventually wins. It isn’t a matter of whether he will or won’t, just when.”
There isn’t any sort of chastising there. That’s friendly advice and a gentle reminder. If asked I’d give a very similar reminder about Dinah Lance. The Black Canary doesn’t need to always out-think her opponents. More time than not, she’s just better than they are. Made worse by the simple act of under-estimating her. That well cultivated image she projects, the air about her attitude and antics lead you down a very natural path with her. Even after years of her besting people all across the world? People see those fishnets, the legs under them. The breasts that she flaunts or the blonde hair she doesn’t have to dye. It is all as well crafted as a technological monstricity like the Batmobile. Put together precisely to get the job done and it works.
It won’t work with Timothy Drake though. The kid doesn’t think like the rest of us. He makes us all look like we’re playing checkers, while he’s playing three dimensional chess. A roll of my shoulders will tell her that’s all I have to say about it though. Dinah would probably dispute it, but she’s like a little sister to me. I’m always going to think in terms of protecting her, even when she doesn’t need it. Especially when she doesn’t want it.
“If I was you, I’d take the compliment and run. Al has softened towards Selina of late, but he doesn’t make her special tea. Or steal glances when he thinks she isn’t looking.”
Different dynamic entirely. Selina is the girl who did Bruce wrong. Even if she didn’t. Doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Even Bruce. Selina didn’t get married. Have kids. Take herself and Bruce away from this life. Give Batman a reason to actually be Bruce Wayne. Even if he’s forgiven, he’ll never forget it. She’ll always be ‘What could have been,’ no matter what. Especially now that it’s off the table for ever.
That’s a cool remark about Oliver, but I let it pass without comment. The way I invoked his name was meant to push her to something. Either in to the lecture I was going to get or make her shut down so we didn’t have to have that part of the discussion. Some things are tactical, some are practical. She made me move, I made her choose. Now we’re past the opening dialogue and getting to why she’s here. Why she’s really here. The ‘trick’ is that there really wasn’t a choice to be made. Both topics tie together and leave us with the same discussion. I wanted to know her priorities. The investigation or…
“According to the security feed,” disseminating, but also informative, that neither of them spoke to me about it, I found out another way. “It was his idea. No one forced him. No one is forcing him.”
Dissemination is the wrong tactic, but the one that came immediately to mind. I have to stop that, because it is both unhealthy -and- leads toward an untruth. I’ve got both hands up, palms out and open, to beg off the salvo that would surely come as a result of how I’ve just answered. A soft puff of air that is a mixture of sighs. Resignation mostly.
“Look, I could spend the next hour. The next day. The rest of the week, probably. Out lining how I’ve spent the last ten years trying to get out from under the shadow of the Bat. How I’ve made a life out of trying to step out from under the weight of it. I could draw pictures. Make a flow chart. Somewhere around here I have a power point presentation all ready to go. I even paid Morgan Freeman to narrate it, for effect. But…
“Let’s just assume, that for a second. That none of that is applicable. Let’s just take a second, Dinah,” reaching out carefully, to just simply put a hand upon her shoulder. “To consider. Maybe. For a second. That I’m not shirking my ‘responsibility.’ That there’s a chance that Barbara and I found something. And then I saw Him on the News. In Coast City. On the News. With a marvel of a woman and a man that moved like greased lightning.
Lightly, but importantly squeezing her arm to impress upon her that what I’m saying next is actually the truth. Not just hypothetical. “Let’s consider that for the first time. In my life. I wasn’t afraid of that Cowl, because I was too busy being inspired to think maybe Bruce’s legacy can be about more than scaring the shit out of everyone.”
“You think I missed how he spoke to Damien? Have you ever seen those two talk like that? Have you ever seen Damien inspired?” My other hand gestures to the desk mounted land line Phone. “Pick it up. Call Tim. Tell him to meet me in the Cave. I’ll take the Cowl from him.”
“If you make the call.”
Dinah: Eh. I’m not going to debate whether that’s true or not about Timothy Drake-Wayne. Because trying to insist that he won’t win is putting the guy down more than I actually like to do. There’s ribbing your ‘family,’ and then there’s dragging them down. Despite what some of them may think on occasion, and maybe not without cause, I don’t like to do the latter. Tough love? Sure. The blunt, and abrupt way I like to bring a matter to the fore to get it over and settled? Absolutely. Not that I can’t be roundabout. I do that sometimes. Blunt hurts more at first, but is probably less ego damaging in the long run. If I’m making a point and not making it overtly? It’s because I’m going to try and humiliate you with self-realization as I go.
“She always assumes people are looking. And by she, I mean me.”
They usually are. It works for me. It’s part of the whole thing. Besides. You make me spiked cider like this? And you can look as much as you want. According to the feed… ugh. Dick corrects the route he’s chosen to take, which is intelligent of him because I was getting ready to rear back and express exactly how wrong he is. I deal in facts, you have to to be any degree of detective, but more than that I’ve always favored motivations and drive. It tells you a whole lot more than facts ever can. Because people aren’t machines. No one forced him it technically, factually true. No one came up to Tim, held a gun to his head and said he had to do it or die. There’s no lingering blackmail that says if he takes the cowl off, someone he cares about is going to get that same treatment.
Gotham needs a Batman. That’s how they were raised, and what we were all taught. And if Dick wasn’t doing it. If Damien couldn’t do it, who did that leave? Tim. The one who was never supposed to be the Bat. Put in a position where the ‘actual heirs’ (not my words), weren’t doing what they were supposed to and he had to step up. Was morally obligated to, despite how much he didn’t want to do it. It’s noble. It’s not healthy though. I’m doing my best to help him, but… honestly I don’t think it’s me that’s helping him the best with it. See? It’s not all about me and how great I am. But I do actually let Dick ward off my verbal assault with just those hands. Him seeing the error there is enough for me. For now.
“If you actually think that scaring the bejeezus out of people is all that the Bat was about, then you missed the boat Grayson.”
My tone is more than a little tart, but I don’t dig in on that note any further because of what he’s actually said. About being inspired. Because in the cave, even as mentally I was going ‘wtf are you doing, Tim?’ I saw the way the two younger brothers were interacting. It wasn’t normal, but it was good.
“No. I’m not going to make that call. It isn’t my place.”
Funny enough, I think Helena called me in to try and keep them from erupting into civil war over who would be Batman. So color me shocked when the squabbling was a lot more in the lines of who had to draw the short straw and put on the cowl. They’re their own people. With their own formed identities. I’m not sure that Bruce Wayne knew how to be anything else except Batman, so I don’t know if he’d be disappointed or relieved for his children that this is the state of things.
“He needs help. Both of them do. Everyone feels like they’ve been chasing their own tails, instead of doing anything for Gotham or themselves. So I’m glad that some good came out of his putting on the cowl. Because he needed some kind of victory. We all did.”
And I’m holed up in the mini-cave, back to teaching the younger generation, but even I haven’t been able to chase anything down. It’s possible I needed them to have that victory more than I need one for myself. Maybe I don’t have a horse in the race, but I still adore the animals. I’m still tense under Dick’s hand on my shoulder, and the booze hasn’t been in enough quantity to lose the edge, but I’ve clearly changed tacks. There’s no ‘you’re right’ or ‘okay I see your point’ but I guess it might be assumed. Since I’m not yelling at him.
Dick: “You couldn’t bully me in to anything, even if you tried,” someone else might say that brashly or with an air of arrogance to it, but I’m putting it out there as surely as I stated the ‘facts’ about Dinah. “You could, however, convince me.”
As to whether she would have kicked my ass for being a pussy? That is less up for debate. In all likelihood she could accomplish that exact thing. On paper it might look like she and I would be a good match. Anyone’s game. Life isn’t determined by a score card. Dinah is committed to her craft. She bought in to the aspect of our lives that is violence. It doesn’t even bruise my ego to accept that she would very likely win in a fair fight. But the only one that would help, would be Dinah Lance. Even then, probably not so much. She knows, even as she’s said it, that she wouldn’t change my mind with fists.
She could, however, change my mind. I’ve provided her with one avenue, I’m sure there’s at least a couple more. “I’m proud of him too, but not just for what he’s done outside of Gotham. I really did see the way he spoke to Damien, but far more importantly? I saw how Damien responded. That was the first time I’ve ever seen those two communicate like Men. The stuff on the News only added to that pride.”
“Look, this isn’t some pity party here at the Manor. I’m not shirking my responsibility either. Hell, just to cover my bases with you? I’m not just being a pussy, Dinah.” Letting out a breathe that is far more about releasing some sort of pent up worry, than it is a sigh. All the tension releases with that breath and I drop my hands from her to the books on the desk. “The truth is? When Bruce died, I wasn’t ready to step in to his boots. I don’t think any of us were. We all needed answers, but there weren’t any to find. It left us all. You included. With this gaping hole, that none of us could fill. Barb and I worked the case on the ground. Damien took his own approach. I wasn’t even aware of the Joker connection until I saw the footage. Helena brought you back. Tim took to the air as the Red Robin.”
“We both know what Batman means. Or rather what it was meant to mean. We don’t agree on what it became, maybe. But we both know that this Country we live in? Batman lived long enough to become the villain. Luthor made sure of that. He did the same with Superman. I’m positive he did the same with the Lantern too. Tim stepped in. He took on something he was never meant to have to shoulder. He found something in Damien, to inspire. He found something in you too.”
“Then he went out there. On television. He put the Batman out there. In front of the world. With other Heroes.” Very very gently, I take one of Dinah’s hands and put it down upon the picture frame that lays on Bruce’s desk. It’s an old one. Of Thomas, Martha and Bruce the night of their trip to the Movies. “He’s pulling them together. He’s finishing what Bruce started. The weight of the world wasn’t meant to be on his shoulders, but he picked it up anyway. What right do I have to step in now, if I’m not absolutely positive the weight of it is going to crush him?”
“The thing I do know for absolute sure, Dinah? Everything happens for a reason. We’ve finally got a lead. We got a lead the same day Tim took the cowl. The same day Damien decided to be better. The same week Batman went on national news. The same time those kidsgave Lex Luthor the finger.”
“Dinah. Stop saying it’s not your place. It was your place the moment Helena asked you back. The second you let Tim bunk at your place. The very instance you started teaching new heroes. When you went to Metropolis and stood in Superman’s face. Or when you started trailing Joker. Keeping tabs on Damien. I’m not too much of a pussy to point out that you ran out on Ollie. Ran back to Gotham. You’re standing here, telling me that the one place you ran away to? Isn’t your place at all.”
“It’s your place. It’s always been your place. If you don’t know that, then you’re the one who missed the boat, Detective. Maybe it’s both of us sitting there on the pier, watching the boat sail away. How about you make me understand, now? Why do you keep running away… Pussy?”
Dinah: The hand that’s not holding my cup comes out, palm down and rocking slightly back and forth. The body language equivalent of an ‘eeeeehhhhhhhh..’ and declaring that hisdeclaration was perhaps a little bit iffy. But I’m not going to quibble with him over it. It’s mostly the same thing, in my line of thinking. Bullying, or convincing. The words and motivation are the same. The tone and approach are just different. I’m definitely not above switching tacks to get what I want in the end, though.
“It was pretty Twilight Zone-esque. I wasn’t sure what was going on. And I definitely didn’t expect the end result. Not any of it.”
It’s easy to say I wouldn’t’ have gone with Tim, or rather wouldn’t have taken him with me to have the discussion if I’d known what would happen ahead of time. But my means of communicating wasn’t going to do anything except for make Damien more defensive about what he was doing. At that point anyway. I was him, once. Too angry to see any better way of doing what I thought I needed to do with my life, what my purpose had become. I wasn’t really in the mood to listen to anyone back then, either. I hadn’t needed someone to order me around though. I’d needed something to belong to.
He keeps saying I could have convinced him, but I don’t want to. It’s not the goal. I wanted to understand, and I do. You don’t talk someone into doing what we do, let alone into being Batman. They’ve got to be in it 100%. My initial outrage was that I didn’t think Timothy was. And that it was going to get him killed. A fear he’s already actually expressed to me. I’m not about to lose anyone else, right now. When Dick speaks of this lead they’ve apparently finally gotten, I’m obviously interested. Eyes go over the books once again, because if they’ve got something, then this isn’t just random history essay information gathering going on. It’s towards something. I’ll be damned if I can guess what. But that interest keeps me from rising to the bait he’s throwing for me.
That and I don’t actually have a thing to be defensive about. Nor do I think I owe Dick Grayson any sort of explanation on the matter. Because I don’t even owe Oliver Queen one. The waggling hand moves to a singular uplifted finger. No. It’s not the middle one. Pointer.
“Not Gotham. Not what I meant. Gotham’s my home, and I was as much a liability to it as I was an asset. If we hit that point again? Then I’m going to leave again. I didn’t need Bruce to make that clear but…don’t get me wrong. He made it very clear. And Oliver Queen can handle his own shit.”
….eeeehhhhh…. he can handle it well enough. I hope. Star City wasn’t mine though, end of the day. It was his. No matter what drive I had to help them, and him, it’s not home. Gotham was. And that was always, and forever, going to trump the other.
Dick : Oliver Queen can barely tie his own shoes without tying them together, tripping on them and then telling the sneakers that they are the ones who failed his city. But. I’m not going to have that discussion with Dinah. Because even if she came here to lecture me, I wasn’t exactly looking to turn this in to a -fight-. Not the verbal sort. Nor the physical sort that is likely to result from constant Queen commentary. I’m going to let her have the final word on that much at least.
“No. Not Gotham. That isn’t what I meant either. Here.” Once again my hands open wide, encompassing far more than just books this time. “I’m not Damien or Tim. Not some kid off the street you’re training in the basement.”
“My parents died. Right in front of me. Tony Zucco took them from. Bruce went through the same thing. He brought me here. Took me in. He adopted me. Guess what? He did the same thing to you. Okay. I needed a way to keep the darkness that consumed Bruce at bay. You needed a focus for the anger that already took root. We may have come here for different reasons, but we left here with the same result. We’re family, Laurel. You’ve got the same rights, privileges… and obligations as the rest of us.”
The encompassing expression ends with my arms folding across my chest. I’m not one for ultimatums, so I’m not giving one. It’s implied though, isn’t it? The Lead is about Bruce. And that’s a Family matter. So what is it then? Am I wrong, about her being part of the family? I sure don’t think so. I’m pretty sure Tim and Damien would agree with me. Barbara, Alfred. I don’t know a single member of the ‘Family’ that would disagree. Except maybe, Dinah.
“It is your place. Own it. Don’t own it. It changes nothing, other than you came here to understand why I’m shirking a responsibility. Twinsie.”
Dinah: “You’re right, Dick. You’re not one of my kids.”
Stephanie may never, ever shut up and Roy may be not even close to a child anymore physically, but there’s an edge in my voice of ownership of those words. I may not have known one of them as long as the other, but I’ve been made responsible for them. As responsible as Tim felt for Spoiler if he let her keep doing what she was doing without help and training. They’ve been Mama Bird-ed just the same. Continuing on, my voice maintains an even tone. Not rising. Not getting louder. Which may actually make it all the more clear how impassioned I actually am on the matter that I’m going to the effort to modulate myself.
“You actually know what you’re doing. You’re a grown ass man, not a barely legal boy that’s only been in this game for a half-dozen years. Tim is a lot of things. He’s brilliant, a mastermind that’s very, very good at arranging things to go his way in the long term. Maneuvering people into the right positions, for the right results. Sees the connections in the world that he needs to find. And he is going to get himself killed. Worse, he knows it.”
I don’t want to say it out loud, honestly. Even voicing it makes me feel that raw anger again in my throat, or maybe that’s emotion. How terrible would that be? So I take a moment to refresh my tongue for more, with a sip of my boozy cider that I wish was just the straight stuff right now. Setting it down again, I carry on calmly.
“And if he does? I’m never going to forgive you. I’m never going to forgive myself. I’m never going to forgive Damien. He. Needs. Help. All three of us have been training as long, hell maybe even longer than, Tim’s been alive. Right now? He’s a guy in a suit that knows he’s doing the right thing, and hopes he can pull it off. He’s going out without his staves because Batman doesn’t use a staff, for Christ’s sake Dick.”
I even let the ‘Laurel’ go, even though he damn well knows that I hate being called that. Banter, for once, is more or less out the window in favor of that ‘real talk’ he seems to have wanted.
“We need to have his back out there. And that means no more of this left hand, right hand bullshit. I can’t keep him alive, and keep the other two from getting in over their heads by myself. How’s that for owning it?”
Dick: Well. I’m glad that we’re at least agreeing on that part. Because it sure seemed like she was trying to play the ‘Big Tough Guy’ role with me. When I know there’s more to this. I also happen to know that ‘It’s not my place,’ is a cop-out on Dinah’s part. That is her way of trying to not let the emotions out. I think she doesn’t want to admit that there is actually emotions involved here. Being worried about Tim, Damien or any of the other kids is one thing. She came here to understand why I didn’t take up the Mantle of the Batman. But. I’m pretty sure she also came here, because she wanted me to take it away from Tim.
“You should have lead with that,” comes the sober response, after a very pregnant pause.
This is the basic, core, difference between Dinah Lance and I. I tend to lead with my heart, she seems to think that she needs to disconnect from it. Taking the Cape and Cowl away from Tim, when all I’ve seen is how good he’s done? Seemed very much like the wrong move. No matter how much I know my ‘Little Brother’ is hating it. Sometimes the best people to entrust with power are the ones who don’t want it most. They’re the ones who handle it the best. Treat it with the most respect.
Dinah has finally given voice to the concern. To the genuine. Well thought out. Observed in practice. Concern. Genuine, because it’s actually the first thing I’ve believed Canary cares about saying since she walked in here. “He’s not alone. I believe he knows that, but I’ll make sure he knows. Today. I won’t take it away from him, I’m not sure it’s mine to take away at this point, but I’ll make sure he knows that I’m here. I’ll make sure he knows Barbara is here. We’ll talk. Today.”
Taking another breathe, I recognize that I’m steadying myself no differently than she did with her drink. Same objective, different methods. It’s enough to make me smile once more. “What do you know about the History of Gotham? The real History of Gotham, I mean. Not the stuff from the text books.”
“The answer is in the History, Dinah. I’m not crazy, I’m serious. Bruce wasn’t killed just because he is Batman. It’s the exact opposite of what we’ve all been looking for. Batman was killed because he’s Bruce Wayne. Bruce was the target. You’ve got to talk to Helena. I don’t know enough yet to actually give you an educated explanation. I’m still learning, but I can tell you this is deep. We’re not dealing with the Flavor of the Month. This is big and old. I think this goes back to founding of the City. To the original families.”
“The reason we’re struggling, is that this isn’t someone we’ve faced before. It isn’t something we’ve dealt with before. I can’t help but think it’s got roots that are deeper than the people Tim’s working against. Maybe that’s even tied to it. We’re researching, but this isn’t something Barb could just oracle up on a computer. That’s the only reason we haven’t called in Tim and Damien already. We don’t even know what we’ve got here. Not entirely.”
Dinah: “I shouldn’t have had to lead with that.”
Last week I wanted him to take it away from Tim. Part of me still does. Part of me also wants to punch him right in the face right now, but then I’d probably break something important. Like my cider cup, or Dick’s untouched teacup over there. Might send perfectly good apple tart tumbling onto the floor and cause a mess. But if Dick has been watching the surveillance, and is aware enough of what Tim’s doing to know about the kids in the basement, about his freelance work with heroes from outside Gotham’s borders? He should damn well have been aware of everything I just said. So my tone is suitable dry in response.
“Taking the suit away from someone who’s doing the right thing, and doesn’t want to do it and slapping it on someone that doesn’t want it and is only wearing it to keep someone else from wearing it isn’t really any better of a solution. Which is why I won’t tell you I think you should put it on. Not after what you’ve just said.”
It has to be someone who’s in 110%, or maybe we’re just going to have to figure out what Gotham is going to look like without a Batman, and explore how bad it actually needsone. Or if a smattering of other people acting in his name are just going to have to be enough. Divide. Conquer. Lean on one another. I’m going to take Dick at his word though, that they’re going to speak to his brother today. That this isn’t going to be put off any longer. Maybe it sounds callous but… Bruce is dead. Losing anyone else because we’re absorbed in who’s to blame is unthinkable. The firm nod of my head, and the pursed line of my mouth, say that’s good enough. That I’m satisfied for now. God help us all if I have to revisit this topic again later.
The smile on his face makes me cock my head, expression shifting to confusion. What the hell is he smiling about?
“The History? Not a lot. If it didn’t involve gyms, dojos, or the police precinct I probably just didn’t care. I know tunnels, and hidden buildings and old speakeasies from my Grandfather and Great-Grandfather’s days on the force. Little nooks and crannies and stories but… not anything I’d imagine would be useful to us.”
That heavy pause of Dick’s earlier had been one thing. My silence borders on stunned, and silence from me is a pretty damn rare thing no matter the reasoning. They weren’t killing Batman, they were killing Bruce? That might sound like an idiotic distinction to make…unless you knew the man. He probably stopped being Bruce Wayne when he was a child. Bruce was the alter ego, not the other way around. But the look in my eyes is like a light bulb clicking on. Of course. None of us would have ever thought that. With everything to be faced in Gotham, as Batman, why on earth would it have been anything but the Rogue’s gallery. How could something possibly have been in place and at least one of them not known about it before now?
“…I’ll go hunt her down right now.”
And maybe light a fire under Stephanie’s ass to get her going on her own case. No. That’s a poor idea. She’s raring to go, she’s just not ready. Tim said that she’d been trying to tell us something was up. It’s not that we didn’t believe her it’s just… well. Cluemaster. When he said it was something bigger than he’d imagined the man might have come up with? Tim’s got a pretty good imagination. That makes me worry.
“That explains the lull in the crime families. All of them. If anyone knew anything, I can’t believe they wouldn’t have squealed by now. To Joker. To Damien. To someone.”
Dick: “Dinah. You damn well should have lead with that. I’m willing to let you come in here and lecture me, but I’m not willing to take responsibility while you shirk it. Every single one of us puts our life on the line when we go out there like we do. If you thought Tim couldn’t do it, then you’re not just responsible for telling me. You’re damned well responsible for telling him.”
There is just a little bit of heat to my voice, but it isn’t truly anger. Not at all, actually. Which is why I’ve got to check myself. This is something else. Agitation. Irritation. Frustration. No, I know what it is… “You came here to blame me. To make sure I knew what he was doing. How he was doing it. You wanted me to ‘Help?’ Not only am I willing, able, and ready, I want to help. But you want me to make the decision. You want to skirt it off as not your place. Let me tell you something, Sister. Tim doesn’t talk to me about his decisions. He didn’t consult me. All I’ve known is what Alfred Pennyworth has told me.”
“Because he sees everything. Bruce didn’t even set up access to Tim’s base. The whole point of it was to be ‘off the grid,’ an emergency fall out shelter in case things went bad. I was asking you to talk to me. To give me your input, tell me as the one on the ground level what you think. I’m sorry if you think it’s wrong to want the input of a seasoned veteran, who’s got more information than I do. You don’t think it’s your place, but I’m pretty damned sure in this case? It wasn’t just your place, it was your responsibility.”
“Which… you’ve done. In like the most aggressive way possible. Outside of throwing punches. I suppose I should thank you for at least that much?” There’s a cross between a scowl and that smile from before, but I’m actually just glad she told me what she thinks finally. It’s important. “You know I’ll keep my word. We’ll talk.”
“Now. About this,” once more tapping on the books, before looking back at Dinah. “They don’t know. They really don’t know. At least. The actual Families. I think some of them suspect, but they’re all afraid. Because this is more myth, more superstition than fact. If even a tenth of what I’ve been reading is true? Then this is bigger than anything we ever faced and we had Batman.”
“Also. Ass. I think the person in the Batsuit might be the safest person in the City. Because I think what killed Bruce? Is after the City. And I think they’ll eliminate anyone who stands in their way. The Batman protects the people. Not the power. He’s not their enemy. But Tim might be. He inherited most of Wayne Industries. Damien might be, but he’s hard to find.”
“The Wayne Family might be a problem. So I thought. Maybe. The most helpful place I could be. Is right here. Where they can find me.” Clearing my throat pointedly at her. “While someone else kept the City safe for a bit.”
Dinah: “Dick. I didn’t have to tell him, he knows. And I didn’t actually know what you knew, or didn’t know, because we’ve had something of a communal communications breakdown. Which we’re all going to fix going forward.”
Something about being in Gotham City just brings out the inner noir protagonist in people, I guess. I don’t think it matters if he thought he was going to get himself killed, or didn’t think he was good enough to be up to par. The goal seemed to be making it work until someone else was ready, willing and able to take the cowl off of him. Maybe it’s just the ‘flaw’ of a good person that wants to do right.
“Yup, sure did.”
That confession is more than a little too cheery, given what I’m saying.
“But I was open to accepting it’s not anyone’s fault if properly convinced. Well. Except Damien’s. It’s always Damien’s fault. I’m feeling a bit trapped in the position of not being able to be Tim’s cheerleader and partner and critic all at the same time. I’m not enough.”
Words that have never come out of my mouth before, and likely never, ever will again.
“And it doesn’t mesh to tell him to his face, and confirm, the doubts about what he’s doing while also being the one who’s trying to get his head fully in the game so that he canmake it work.”
Spreading my hands with a helpless shrug, it’s my turn to return the wry smile.
“You’re welcome. I’d apologize, but we both know I’m not the least bit sorry. I can’t grab Tim by his little Batears and shake him, so I’ve got to channel the aggression somewhere. And apparently I’m already borderline too rough on the noobs in class, so I probably shouldn’t take it out on them. Congratulations, slugger. Designated most able to take the punches. Verbal and otherwise.”
Wrinkling my nose slightly because this isn’t my forte, the books that is, I reach over and turn one slightly on its cover. Not disturbing the pages, just getting a better look at what’s actually there. I can’t even refute people having a fear of superstition. Myths. His brother’s got a torch that he’s trying to put out for an honest to goodness goddess, and who knows what other things that we didn’t think were real actually were. Hiding in mystery, and the fear of the strange and unknown. If Dick’s right, then maybe Tim will be safe from this group, whomever they are, so long as they think Batman’s doing his job. And if they don’t… The look that I shoot Dick now is contemplative, both of what he is telling me, and what I’m understanding out of all of this. What he gets is me raising an eyebrow and smirking, like he had at me earlier.
“Should have lead with that.”
So maybe that sounded a little mocking. Only a little bit though. In good humor and friendship. Ish. Rising from the edge of the desk, the pointed finger gun turns into me cracking my knuckles like I’ve got some hard work I need to get to.
“We’re getting shirts. It’s official. You can get back to your research. I’m going to take my pie, get out of your hair, and pilfer a few more on my way out. I think I’m going to probably need my energy to work brow beating Helena into the rest of my lineup for the night.”
Dick: “Sorry. Couldn’t be helped. I needed to know something. About you. That you wouldn’t answer directly. Needed to provoke you.”
The way I shrug could literally be a pantomime of the way she did to me only a second ago. Except that it looks just as natural, because I do this all the time. The shrugging. Not the provoking. Or at least, I don’t do the provoking the way I did it with Dinah. I’m hoping she doesn’t approach everyone like she approached me either. Because if so? I might need to check on the health of those trainees. God lord.
Matching wry smiles may just break the entire world, but we’re managing it for the moment. I’m growing more and more confident by the moment though that beneath her’s is someone people actually should fear. There’s a darkness to her, a willingness to defend her family that I haven’t seen since she first got here. For the second time tonight, I do something that isn’t natural for people around Dinah. We’re alone here. It’s worth the risk of catching her once more by shoulder to give the woman a hug. Not your average sort of hug either. This is just about as manly as it’s even possible. Complete with patting of the shoulder.
“I miss him too,” comes out the solemn whisper for her and her alone.
When I step back, it’s with a very simple gesture to the tray of snacks that Alfred brought in for us. If it wasn’t already clear, they weren’t for me. Alfred was just being equal parts polite and hopeful. He doesn’t like that I’ve been holed up in here researching. Likes it even less than I’m trying, openly, to be the most publicly visible Wayne-son in the City. Alfred knows what I’m up to, even if I haven’t discussed it with him. I’m not even sure how, he just does.
The worst part of everything that Dinah has said to me tonight? Is that I actually agree with her. I even empathize. “Alfred once told me that he never feared Bruce and I going out in to the night like we did, because he Dynamic Duo could survive anything. Except each other. Because he knew it didn’t work if I was the only one in Bruce’s Circle of Trust. I couldn’t be Cheerleader, Partner and Critic. Not if I wanted Bruce to trust me as any one of those things.”
“Just remember one very important thing, Dinah,” the last thing I have to impart to her as I walk her to the door, where no doubt Alfred is waiting for her already, with a glass to the door in an effort to hear every word we’ve said. “You said you’re Tim’s partner. I hate to be the one that points this out, but… that makes you Robin. I’ll have Alfie deliver one of the suits to your Bar. You should wear it to your meeting with Helena.”
With that? I push the door shut, so that she is left with Mr. Pennyworth, his glass. A tray of goodies and the sound of my snickering from the other side of the door.
by Michele | Oct 24, 2017 | Chronicles
Freddy: Beside myself didn’t even begin to explain what I was experiencing at the moment, but there was no time for that.
Pace yourself. If you begin to overreact you may and will make a mistake. Take a moment to find your center.
Focus on your surroundings. Remember where you stepped out of, because that’s the only way you’ll be entering the Sanctum in this area. Remember the exact area and the people around. Hopefully no one notice you stepping out into the area and begin to question you. Just stare at the big screen and be shocked, appalled and genuinely horrified at what you’re watching. That was pretty easy to do.
The item that had been entrusted to me had been pocketed. Though I seriously needed a better spot than my pocket for it. Somewhere no one could get to it or think to look for it. No tip offs or anything. I have no Idea what Adam saw. He may know that I have it and that immediately becomes an item he wants. Bargaining chip. Probably not, because he’d sooner rip open my chest and get it than bargaining. There’s no bargaining with him not with the state he’s in not to mention I don’t think that was ever in the cards, but doesn’t mean i can’t try. It just means kind of a Bambi versus Godzilla kind of situation.
Scanning the area I see the news and it’s a Metropolis local station. Walking out of the area I head towards a quiet spot, because I’ve only been to Metropolis a handful of times. Class trips and what not. Pulling out my cellphone I start scanning through the numbers I’ve programmed in to call the only person I know in the city and hope…pray she’s in the area.
Cassie: The world is full of terrible things. Evil men, that do evil things in the name of their convictions, or for power. Both equally bad motivations if you ask me. Disasters that just happen, with no rhyme or reason though in ancient times they would have attributed them to some vengeful God. I suppose that could hold true still, except I find it unlikely that were they still actually present that they’d stay so hidden so well. That was a mystery that I at least had some answers to, thanks to the last couple weeks’ experiences. I don’t want to say that they were things I’d never paid attention to before. The bad things. That makes me sound shallow and self-absorbed and I like to think that I’m not. I care about the world and the people around me. There’s a dramatic difference in seeing the world’s problems, and seeing them with the ability to do something about it. With practically an open license to do something about it.
Only to then be hobbled by life. By who I am. I’d had a discussion with Timothy Drake about the ‘mask’ and what a person’s real identity was. Not Wonder Woman, but Cassie Sandsmark who’s in the middle of her AP Chemistry lecture, watching with slack jawed, wide eyed horror what’s playing across the state of the art media wall in St. Mary’s science classroom. Breaking news, about the horrible deaths of school children in Fawcett City. Yes. Bad things happen every day. Bad things don’t always coincidentally happen in a place I’ve just been to be a part of another bad thing. I have to control my grip on the counter, in part to keep me there? And so that I don’t break a part of it off. I can feel as every hair on my body feels like its’ standing up on end, something in the air that maybe is my sense of helplessness in the situation. Or frustration. But I know those feelings. This is a …strange something else.
We’re not supposed to have our phones in class. Everyone does anyway. The fact that I don’t usually use mine, means that I’m easily excused when I get up to leave with sneakers practically squealing as I tear around the corner and out into the hallway. It’s not a number I have programmed into my phone, but I don’t exactly know a lot of people that would make the screen light up with a number and ‘Fawcett City.’ The timing too convenient for it to be anyone else, and I’d told him to call if he needed help.
“Freddy! Are you okay? Where are you? I’ll be there in…well. It depends where the where you are is but…”
Fifteen minutes to Fawcett. It’s where I assume he is, anyway. I just have to get to somewhere that I can take off without notice. Not as hard as you might think, especially when you’ve got a ‘tutor’ of your own who’s been doing it longer than you have. I could maybe wish for some more…subtle clothes though. The blue and grey plaid of my school uniform would even be preferable but it’s a game day. That means we’re expected to wear a different uniform. The awful cheerleader getup that I actually hate more than the other option. I don’t get the point. It’s not like we go to classes with the boys to show ‘spirit’ for them. I think it’s just an excuse to demonstrate that the squad’s social ‘elite’ are better than everyone else. Moving fast has its advantages though. I’m behind one of the buildings, and then up into the air like a shot, phone still pressed to my ear awaiting directions.
Freddy: If it had been a year or two ago, I would be back home ready to show my school spirit. Sure baseball season was over, but it didn’t mean I didn’t support the other teams. Fighting Spartan all the way. However, my stomping grounds was the site of abject horror. I couldn’t imagine the impact that this was having. Children who were hurt, killed. Police force decimated. Fawcett was going to be hurting for years to come from this. To say that it hurt my heart would be an understatement, but it was boxed away as best I could as I continued to compartmentalize. It was the only way I was going to remain upright instead of falling over as the weight of everything hit me.
I changed back which meant that I only carried Solomon with me. The focus and clarity that he afforded helped. They could use Callaghan right now as he was guiding them through this tragedy, but he was gone. He was no longer with them and what he brought to the town was collected. I was blessed and I felt I was in the wrong place, but I knew it is where I had to be. Away from the fray. I couldn’t let their deaths be in vain. I couldn’t let Callaghan’s death become nothing more than a meaningless gesture. I couldn’t throw way his trust on some foolish notion of all consuming rage and despair.
No, I had to continue moving forward with the information I had. There were some things I had to do, and there were some things that couldn’t be done alone. This wasn’t a time to say I can do it on my own. I saw where that could lead.
“Cassie? Yeah it’s me.” From the sound of her voice. The concern. The elevated tension. She was probably seeing the same thing he was. “I’m not there. I was there, but not any more.” He said softly. “I’m in Metropolis.” How strange was that. “At the library.” Even stranger but actually it made sense for the Sanctum to be connected to places of knowledge and instruction. I wanted to start with a long litany of events and actions that took place. “The main branch.”
What did I need? “I’m ok.” As strange as it sounded I was ok. It was better than fine. You know. Freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional. I was slowly coming down from Defcon Five. “But we need to compare notes.” I have no idea what Cassie’s been told. It’s the only thing that makes sense right now.
Cassie: There’s a very initial, mundane reaction to hearing that someone you know who should have been at the site of a tragedy was not there after all. It’s relief, and despite my generally trying not to do so I can’t help thinking the ‘Oh, thank God.’ Though maybe in this case it actually is an appropriate thing. Then my mind keeps spinning. Wait. He wasn’t there? Why wasn’t he there? Not there as in not at the school? Not in Fawcett? Even as he’s telling me where he is. Here. In Metropolis.
I’d say it might have been hard to hear me, given that I’m up in the clouds at the moment, or that I shouldn’t even be getting reception but… a little redbird took it upon himself to replace my iPhone with a half-million dollars worth of hidden Wayne Tech earlier this year. Can You Hear Me Now is something that I will never again have to utter, apparently. Excellent job with noise filtering, too.
“I’ll be there in one minute. Sit tight.”
Well. Less than a minute. Since I’m not going across any great distance, just more or less straight down again, plummeting out of the clouds at a speed that’s going to be too fast for most people to pick up on, but not fast enough to wreck anything. Most people are much too absorbed in their own lives, or what’s on the news right now, to really be looking for a SuperPerson in the sky. That only happens when something’s going wrong in Metropolis.
He doesn’t look okay. Why would he look okay? He said he was there, but now he’s not. It’s not unreasonable that he could have run here. He’s faster than I am, but it also doesn’t actually make sense. So instead of assuming what makes ‘sense’ based on his powers… I just ask.
“How did you go from there to the library?”
I want to hug him. It’s a natural reaction that I can’t really help but I also don’t know him well enough to presume. I instead end up hooking my arm through his, turning us back around and marching him further inside of the pristine building. There’s any number of places to sneak off to in here for some privacy. I’ve used a number of them myself, though I usually just settle for the library at my school. Two people standing out in the open, while one’s dressed like I am especially, is going to get some notice.
“I think note comparing is…at this point kind of more than necessary. What just happened?”
Freddy: I could swear I heard a bit of a whistling from her side of things. Not Cassie whistling, not that kind of sound, but air whistling. It wasn’t loud but kind of thing that happens when you’re outside or have the car door open something to that effect. She had to be in the air. I didn’t question it in fact it made me smile a little perhaps the first smile I had in I don’t know. I can’t remember. Perhaps since burgers. “Alright. I’ll be here. Thanks.” I let that be the end of it, because I don’t know what more I could say. I didn’t want to throw of her off, but going over what happened and I’m sure she she had questions for me. I was still compartmentalizing to bring myself down from the level alertness that I had been at when I arrived in the City of Tomorrow.
Any other time I would want to see the sights, but right now I didn’t want to see anything, because I know what I would see it would be everywhere. Tragedy in the Heartland. The papers and news stations would be all over it. Instead I remained where I was fixed in that point waiting for Cassie to arrive. The moment she came through the doors and found me I offered a weak smile, but my face said it all. Something was terribly wrong. I saw something. something that made it impossible for that light in my eyes to emerge like they did before. Instead of saying anything I walked over and gave her the hug she was uncertain about.
I’m a hugger. I hugged Gramps all the time. I remember all the last hugs I gave. The last hug I gave him. The last hug I gave my parents. The only person I didn’t hug was the Wizard. I hugged him once and he looked at me like i twas a foreign concept and wondered what manner of madness was this? I was a student not someone to hug. Didn’t stop me from being concerned about his well being. “It’s good to see you.” It was rote. It was just part and parcel of who I am. When she hooked her arm into mine I made no attempt to pull away. I walked with her looking around as my mind finally stopped spinning.
When it did my eyes shifted to hers, because she asked me a question. “Magic.” The tone of my voice was low, but it was steady. I didn’t shown shaky, but I did look it, but even them it was starting to be pushed back to the edges. I needed to be calm so I could step through this with a steady and deft hand, because no doubt there would be questions and I needed to weave the tapestry carefully so there were no twists and turns. Silo things into facts and theories.
As we stepped through the building I considered how to start. “A cluster of major portions.” Epic almost slipped of my tongue, but the only thing that would have made that epic is if Isis and Zeus were present so major was what I went with. Cant be epic yet, but we were on the road towards it. “I’m trying to figure out where to start. The beginning seems like so far away. Like I don’t know, but I’ll try to parse it out.” I know get to the what the hell happened, but to start there felt like I would be missing something.
“Before everything happened at the school I started talking to some of the witnesses in and outside of the bank. I needed to figure out what happened and when. Figure out things weren’t completely buggery or not. The storm that gathered that struck down into the bank that was gathering as events began to unfold. People can’t recall what happened in the bank. I think we know who to thank for that, but outside the bank and the reports. There was no storm predicted in the area. That was all Zeus.” I had to be careful not to chime in with my opinions just the facts for the moment.
“What I can theorize is that he was approaching for one of two or both reasons. One to prevent Isis from acquiring a portion of Osiris’ soul, spirit or whatever gods have. His essence. ” That would probably be the best what to describe it. “Also prevent her from taking what power I had through my blessings and the innate power you possess. Which neither of us would give freely meaning she would have taken it by force and we would be dead.” Point blank let’s not sugar coat the seriousness of this. I’m pretty sure Cassie was already there. “Either way Zeus was doing a two for one.” However Cassie wanted to absorb that was up to her.
“His intervention afforded me time to try and collect information which lead me to Chief Callaghan. He remembered everything that happened. He was able to resist the mindwipe. Perhaps was never affected by it. He carried the essence of Achilles.”
Cassie: Well. I don’t know if it makes him feel better, I hope it does, but it makes me feel better. It’s one of the best, and fastest ways to display empathy. Being there for someone. I may not be a hugger all of the time, but it’s definitely the sort of situation that calls for it, so I’m more than ready to return the gesture. While making sure not to squeeze too hard. I’ve had a lot of practice at this point. Just enough pressure to make something felt, but not hurt. I know how I’d felt hearing about the news. How must he have felt for being there and unable to stop it? I can’t even imagine. Well. Actually I can. Hence the hugging.
“Magic, of course, because… well. And maybe makes sense even. I felt… something right before you called. I just assumed it was something. Normal.”
I’d say why not but it seems to be so central to everything that’s going on. Is that going to be a thing I have to look out for now? Magic willies? On top of anything else I might be trying to sense on a normal day, now do I have to be on guard for inklings of those other things?
“It’s alright, Freddy. If I’m confused, I can just ask. I’m half-decent at connect the dots, too.”
I let him go on with the story. No, it’s not really a story so much as relaying facts. Which is more important than feelings in the moment, I suppose. I keep leading him, as he keeps talking, down a quiet hallway and into the reserved study areas. They’re unlikely to be in use this time of day, and finding an empty one to move into isn’t a problem. Then I’ll let him go, taking up a perched seat on the edge of one of the tables as I fold my arms across my chest to listen.
“The combination was enough to make him act against his own rule. Or at least as much as he thought he could get away with at least.”
I know a lot more than I did last time we met. Mostly because after incessant badgering from my best friend and boyfriend I’d finally had a long overdue conversation with her. What he has to say is more insight in that moment than anyone else had been able to give. If the attack was against us, or her.
“…he carried. Past tense. Is he… did he…”
Ugh. I don’t think I really needed to ask. I hadn’t heard names on the news but it’s easy to put the dots together. Like I said.
Conner: There’s no whistle of air displacement. No hum of electricity in the air. Nor a buzz from the phone being way too close to the satellite that is beaming it’s signal. No warning. Nothing. Just one moment the two, Freddie and Cassie, are walking along. Arm in arm. Talking about things most would blow off as some sort flight of fancy or school report. LLeading him down along those back rows of books, in to the large section of study rooms. Used by people who want a public place to tutor or study in groups, that are not so public and distraction filled as Starbucks. When some clumsy doofus steps out from a long line of stacked books, right in to Freddy Freeman. Boy is that Clumsy Doofus sturdy. Very sturdy. And clumsy.
“Oh. Golly. Sorry, Chum, I didn’t see you there,” said with a flick of the expression toward the book in hand. “I should watch where I’m going. It’s so hard. Y’know. Being so absorbed in school projects and reports…”
“…(Gasp!)…. Cassie! Hi there, beautiful. You should have told me you were coming here, we could have car pooled.” Clearly a missed opportunity to save upon World Pollution. Something I’m way worried about as I put the upside down book I’d been holding back upon the nearest shelf, in complete ignorance of books being in some sort of order. “What are the chances? I mean a guy and a gal, from different schools. Dating. Showing up at the Metro-Public Library. At the same time. During school hours. Without any sort of net-working. Happy Coincidence, amIrite?”
“Who’s your friend? Strapping. Young. Good Looking. Friend. Oh, I’m glad you asked. Conner. Conner Luthor. I’m Cassie’s boyfriend. Don’t worry. I’m not the jealous type or anything. It’s good to meet you. Fred, right? Cassie has told me so much about you.” I couldn’t possibly be an octave more monotone than this. Not without finding a way to adapt Black Canary’s vocal control. “Wow. Like. Really. Good to meet you. Mr. Guy-friend-of-my-girlfriend.”
“That I’ve never, ever, seen before.”
Okay. Awkward.
Freddy: I didn’t feel indifferent to the hug that I initiated. I needed it. I needed to feel something real for a moment connected to the world that I knew, both worlds actually. Sometimes you need a beat before you dive back into the chaos that you call life. Chaos that seemed to be spinning faster and faster until it would unleash itself upon the world in terrible ways. I welcomed the moment, the beat, the pause the all-important breath. I also welcomed the fact that I wasn’t alone in this that I could talk to someone about it without receiving a questioning, disappointed or annoyed look. I was grateful for it.
“Yeah. I had no idea that the Wizard’s sanctum was connected here. I knew about the door in the high school, but who knew it could open here, but it makes sense. Library.” And the such, but I was getting ahead of myself. “Think of it like Howl’s Moving Castle or the seen in the Matrix Reloaded with the hallways of doors, but there were no hallways just one door.”
I was about to tell her more about Callaghan who she deduced from the look in her eyes was no longer of the living despite the fact that it could mean that I know carry Achilles, but I didn’t get a chance to do anything as I ran into a what I thought was a wall, but not a wall, but a person. A person that was far more solid than he should be at the size he was. He was rather dense, physically speaking not mentally, but the moment he opened his mouth I thought I might have to reconsider my assessment.
Taking a step back I just watched in some weird blended milkshake of horror, awkwardness and humor as Cassie’s boyfriend introduced himself. Cassie’s boyfriend. She was Wonder Woman then…yeah. This was …wait was this happening? He was Superman, but right at the moment he was…I felt like I was in an episode of Friends no joke. She was Rachel. Her boyfriend was Ross and I was…wait…whoa. Whoa. Whoa!
Compartmentalize. My eyes scanned everything quickly and I caught the fact that the book was upside down. Was he spying on her? Somehow the soundtrack of my life had skipped a track and gone from Obi Wan Kenobi revelations to I don’t know some smash up Ewoks meets Jar Jar Binks.
“Freddy. Freddy Freeman, Mister Luthor.” I offer my freehand to Conner with a good nature smile that would give Clark Kent a run for his money. “Cassandra’s told me a lot about you. It’s nice to finally get to meet you.” There’s no impish grin or indication that I’m doing anything but being earnest in a way that reads Smallville thought Fawcett City is no Smallville, but you had to wonder. Those Midwesterners with their aww schucks charm.
“I just got in today. It was a bit of a surprise actually. Checking out a few local universities in the area. I’ve delayed enrolling long enough. Just getting my ducks in a row before I make any decisions for next fall. Dropped a line to Cassie and she happened to have a free period to meet up at the library. It’s like my third time to City of Tomorrow. Can’t get lost at the library. Don’t tell her mom that I coaxed her out of school. Don’t want to cause any trouble.”
Freddy turned to Cassie. “He’s cuter than you described.”
Cassie: “Can you open it back up again? Was he there? Were you able to get some answers or…”
It’s possible that that was the whole situation. Why else would he have emerged here instead of there? Then maybe it won’t open back up again. Or maybe it just doesn’t work like that at all.
Of all the things I should have seen coming today, this moment is pretty much it. I’d just been in too much of a hurry after that phone call to do anything except get to where Freddy was so that I could help. I hadn’t covered my tracks like when I’d gone to Fawcett, or Central. I’d just gone. Clearly, I’m not any good at this sneaking around on my boyfriend thing. Actually that would be a good point towards my character in any other situation, but right now it’s not so great. It wouldn’t be such a worry, except my boyfriend has x-ray vision. Enhanced senses. An overly developed sense of paranoia and a penchant for being a nosy, snooping spy.
He’s also holding that book upside down. Which looks to be a copy of Crocheting for Dummies. Well…
“I would have Con but I figured you’d be busy with school things. At your own school.”
There’s a warning look that’s being shot at Conner, especially as he carries on his monotone that reads yup, I’m interfering because you’re doing something without me with someone else and I don’t like it and so here I am! A look that says so help me, I will make you suffer in a way only your loving girlfriend actually can. My brain’s spinning through how to actually handle this. I can think of a pretty simple way, actually but I don’t think that simple is best. Or that I’ve got things set up enough that it would be safe. I let the two boys introduce themselves to one another, though Freddy is much more polite about it. Friendly even. And I run with his version of events, because it plays in with my own alibi for being in Fawcett in the first place.
Well done, Freeman. Seriously.
“Freddy is from Fawcett. He showed me around there, so I thought it’d be nice to return the favor here since he was in. I figured you’d think it was boring.”
My mouth pulls to the side in an expression that would have put that displeased gymnast from the Olympics a few years back to shame at Fred’s compliment towards my other half.
“Yes, well. He sure thinks he is. But he’s got his moments.”
Conner: Oh, there are two types of smile for a Luthor. There is the type that says ‘I won, you lost, eat me.’ Then there is the one that says you should sleep with one eye opened. Guess which one I’ve affixed ‘Aww Shucks’ Freeman with? Spoiler Alert: It’s the latter. I’m well schooled in manners though, so I’m aware of the offered hand and how to accept it without reducing every bone in it to some akin to rock salt. All the while maintaining both smile and charm. If by Charm you were you mean a granite statue chiseled in to some sort of approximation of Charm.
“You’re like way Cuter than Cass said you were too,” it’s not hard to hear the unspoken ‘too cute for my tastes,’ that is heavily implied there. “Part of me just wants to scoop you up and eat you like a bowl of ice cream.”
This is followed by a leveled look upon my girlfriend. If I were any more chipper? It would cause a galactic implosion. Extinction. Level. Event.
“Yes. As you should have figured. Since, I’m such a schoolboy. Study study study. All the live long day. It’s hard to know exactly where the Student ends and Conner Luthor socialite begins. It’s a hard life, y’know what I mean Freddy Freeman of Fawcett City. Purveyor of Hamburgers.” There is an ease with which I slide an arm over Freddy’s shoulders and bring him in tight. He’s a hugger right? Let’s pretend I didn’t hear that bit for now. “First trip to Metropolis then? Why didn’t you say that? Who could possibly be a better tour guide than me? My Father built this City.”
“My Car’s out front. I bet the doorman didn’t even have time to park it yet.” We all know the public library doesn’t have doormen, but maybe us Luthor’s really think that. I don’t, but who really knows with the rich elite types. “We can head out. See the sights. Visit all those schools. Cassie and I spent the summer touring ourselves, I’m sure we can hum a few bars and fake a tour. Cassie’s a natural at making things up as she goes along.”
“So. It’s a damn good thing you’re here today of all days, Fred. Surely you’ve seen the news. Man, you never heard about Fawcett City until a couple weeks ago. Now? Hostage situations. Bank robberies. Broiler room access. It’s like… I dunno. Kharma or something. I hope you’re insurance covers ‘Act of God.'”
“Speaking of Kharma being a bitch, do you know what’s really a bitch, Fred. It’s that moment when you realize your girlfriend is about to totally ignore the fact that she knows I’ve been listening to every word you two said, but she was still committed to that bullshit story about University Tours. So either you’re best kept secret my girlfriend has ever had reduced to sandy ashes by heat-vision. Or you’re connected to what’s on the news and she’s trying to save you.”
“So. Let’s start with Wizard’s Sanctum and that Amulet in your pocket. Unless you’re real happy to see my girlfriend. In which case I’m re-visiting the sandy-ashes version of this story.”
Freddy: Now comes the tricky part. It was being blasted all over the news what happened so I could play dumb like I didn’t know. I was completely oblivious to the tragedy that had befallen my home town or I could dive right in to it, but it all depended on what came out of Conner’s mouth though given what I had shared thus far it was probably best to play the oblivious one. It was better for everyone.
Listening as Cassie recounted how they met I offered another smile. “Did she tell you about the burgers? Best burgers on the planet.” I was totally committed to that. It wasn’t until I was pulled in close for a hug that was not a hug after receiving a smile that was anything but a smile. A smile that was akin to the one the wolf gave Little Red Riding Hood before he decided she was going to be nothing but bones and fat after he was done with her.
The entire thing went down a house of cards. It was all over the place and apparently I should have stepped out to call Cassie and then stepped back in to wait for her to arrive, but who knows she’s probably been chipped electronically and mystically.
I could give it my best and try to slip out of his grasp, but the last thing I want to do is cause ruckus instead I turn my head and stare straight into Conner’s eyes. I’ve seen what death looks like several times over. I’ve seen what the god style wrath looks like. If he thinks I’m about to crumble because he wants to shake me down from information then he’s sorely mistaken.
“Billy. Batson. Remember him? If you want to talk Karma let’s talk about the door you opened when the decision was made to remove him from the picture.” Mic drop.
Cassie: Yes, yes. With the rubbing in of how I hadn’t mentioned Freddy to Conner. For perfectly good reason, like how there was entire ruse in place to keep him from noticing I was going to Fawcett in the first place, followed by telling Freddy to stay the heck away from the NOWHERE MindWhammySquad, and continuously referencing the things that ‘I’ had done at the bank, not a ‘we.’ All to keep Conner Luthor from knowing that this guy existed for what was actually a perfectly innocent reason. Well. Innocent as far as our relationship goes. Not so much when you take into account his job. No. Not the Superman one. No one’s meant to know that Superman used to be Superboy, and they’re definitely not supposed to know that he’s on the government’s payroll. It’s not like it’s public knowledge that the President For Life’s son is … well. What he is.
Then Freddy mentions the burgers, and the force that my palm smacks against my forehead, and the resulting sigh, is audible. Oh. Great.
We’re already had a fight about/around Fawcett. I’d prefer to avoid another and yet. Here we are. Awkward is right. And schoolboy charm is giving way to the fact that my darling boyfriend is clearly going to make this a fight. We don’t need that. At all. My expression gets even more visibly displeased at the comment of my making things up as I go. Calling me out on my lie, the story we were spinning, and then giving away the secrets that I was trying to keep on his behalf. Fine.Fine. Since no one’s in here to see me, that doesn’t already know, I close the distance between the two of them and myself with an abrupt whoosh of air, jabbing my index finger right into the middle of Conner’s prep-school tie.
“You. Stop. I wasn’t going to blab your secrets, but if that’s how we’re playing it. Freddy? I’d like you to meet Superman, who I promise is ordinarily at least a little more charming when he’s not playing jealous boyfriend.”
In hindsight? I see the dots he connected. See. I’m good at those dots. I just don’t have the same frame of mind as Conner to put together how I snuck off to Fawcett, then didn’t leave with him when he arrived. With Freddy, who was the reason, just not the reason he’s clearly thinking. Again. I should have. But it’s just not the tack my mind takes.
“Superman. This is Freddy Freeman. Who helped Wonder Woman in Fawcett, and frankly saved my ass from getting a lot more than just a little light chomping. Yes, I was trying to save him.”
Then the finger swings to Freddy. They’re both taller than me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not fully capable of drawing myself up to an indignant height that makes me look like I”m looming. I learned from Helena Sandsmark. She does it all the time. I’m just not quite as furious looking at the blonde. He doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing.
“And you. You need to stop, too. It’s not entirely what you think it was, and if I’m going to manage to stop what happened to Billy Batson from ever happening again I need this? Right here? To stop.”
Conner: There’s a small part of me that cringes over the topic of Billy Batson. Another part of me that is worried that I’m cringing over it being brought up. Not over it actually happening. Because the reality is? I’m not remotely guilty about the whole thing. There are other things I’ve done that I’m aware I should feel some guilt over. Even if I don’t actually think I do feel guilty, I know I should. But when it comes to this topic? The truth, really, does set me free.
“He was out of control. Really. Out of control. It was him or a chunk of the entire city. I made the right choice, Hamburger Boy. Kinda questioning you though. Being here. Safe in Metro. While such a tragedy plays out on the News. What a Marvel of Heroism, huh?”
Well we’ve accelerated well beyond calling one another cute haven’t we? It isn’t difficult to connect the dots. To see how Freddy is connected to Cassie being in Fawcett City. Which means that he is also somehow connected to the Crocodile Men that she called me to have picked up. Cassie randomly goes to Fawcett City and suddenly bad things are happening? Now this guy is here? It is real hard for me not to wonder what excuse Cassie was going to make up, to tell me why she needed to ferry Mr. Freeman off to her pals in the underground resistance. Probably a ‘Tour’ of the Gotham University.
The problem I’ve got right now? Surprisingly has nothing to do with Freddy, per say. Nor him being handsie with Cass. Nor him being the person who introduced her to the Hamburgers of infamy. In fact it bothers me that this is all tied together, somehow and it is making me a little angrier by the moment that she’s not coming clean about all of this. If this ‘resistance’ of her’s is so important, why can’t she talk to me about it? I tell her everything. Even about the Harlots that try to seduce me on rooftops. Why is she hiding this pretty boy from me? And what in the name of Great Caesar’s Ghost is a Wizard’s Sanctum.
The only thing that keeps me from questioning all of this even more? Is Cassie getting affronted. As with the other thing? I normally understand, at the very least, why she’s getting pissy. This time I’m a little lost as to why she has even a morsel of claim to being mad. I’m not the one who has lied. Not the one sneaking around. Not the one keeping secrets. I haven’t been intentionally working in opposition to Her. I’m not sure I’ve ever got to say this in my entire, albeit short, life. For once I’m innocent on all charges.
Well. All but that jealous, possessive boyfriend stuff. My turn for the ‘Aww Shucks’ smile. “I’m not exactly the one keeping secrets, Cass. But, don’t worry. I’m not even planning to try to hurt you, Fred. Unless you tell me that you’re somehow behind that Fawcett City melt down. In which case all bets are off.”
Freddy: “What exactly do you think Billy Batson was going to do?” I look at them both. “Did you talk to him? Did you say a word or did you lead with your fist. Did you go in with the objective to put him down or attempt to reason with him? Did you go in with the intentions to aid or suppress?” I turn from Conner to Cassie. “The reason I am on this path is because the Champion before me died. There was no one left to stand between Black Adam. No one to prevent the death of gods. No one to recognize events for what they were to project mortals from magic and magic from mortals. Just control people thinking they can control things just like Adam did.” I explain.
“Someone tell me what it was, because what I know is that I stand here because the previous Champion was felled before he had a chance to try. Perhaps he was rash. Perhaps he thought might was better. Perhaps he saw what I saw and had no one to turn to to talk to instead he was attacked. ” I didn’t throw my hands up but I let my head fall back for a second.
“You’re the second person who’s insinuated that I’ve caused some great harm to people and I get it. I know things you don’t, but your first act is to intimidate me instead of asking me without veiled threats and “Luthor Charm.” ” And it’s not said in the kindest light at all. “The reason I am here is because a hero a real hero recognized his mistake and tried to make it right and it cost him his life. He died saving me and projecting the world for now.” My eyes shut for a moment just a moment as I compartmentalize again.
Don’t get angry Freddy. Anger is the path that…you saw what happened. Taking a deep breath I take a step back from them.
“Seeing how you heard a portion of what I said I will go over the rest. ” Freddy looked to Cassie and gave her the slightest of nods.
“Zeus prevented Isis from retrieving the portion of Osiris essence. What happened to Isis I can’t say. No one has seen her. She could be licking her wounds, but she’s not gone. She’s alive and she’s coming for what she wants. What she needs to restore Osiris. You spoke of rules, there are rules, but they’ve broken. I took Callaghan into my confidence as best I could as he took me into his. Because of him I was able to access memories of who Black Adam was before he was the Champion. During and after he fell. ” It was a lot to take in but that was neither here or there.
“Isis is Adam’s with and the wife of Osiris. It’s difficult to explain, because there wasn’t enough time. I went to the Sanctum in search of the Wizard to learn what he knew. He has been uncharacteristically quiet, but when I arrived Adam was there and he was everything I lived and more. The Sanctum looked like it had been ransacked. Someone was researching Osiris, Hades and other elements connected with death. ” I try to parse it out as best I could.
“Adam wanted me to relinquish what I had. It might save me from his wrath not to give to Isis, but I suspect to take on himself. Either to lure her out or be strong enough to face her and make her release his wife. It’s working theory. Adam was restored. Somehow his wife came back to him. How I don’t know, but she was distraught over what had been done to their people and Adam is not one for puppies, kittens and rainbows. He’s Old Testament through and through. If he believed in God like God God he would definitely be down for the smiting everyone and that’s what he intended to do, but he wanted to empower his Isis with the essence of Isis. My theory is Isis overwhelmed her, because Isis tends to be single minded . Osiris. Not Adam’s son, but the god. He must be free. He must walk the earth again and that takes power. Lots of it. She’s killed a Titan for it and suspect she may have done the same to your half brother Cassie. Adam wants to stop her, but for that to happen he has to have enough power to put her down without killing her, because to kill her is to kill his wife and he won’t do that. He loves her too much.”
That’s the working theory at least.
I hadn’t gotten to the explosion yet. It was a lot to digest.
Cassie: There’s a whole lot of things that could be said in response to the words being slung around. I know I’ve handled the whole thing poorly, but the fact of the matter was I didn’t have time to plan. To set this up better. To text Conner on my way to say something like, hey. I’ve got some world saving business can you maybe look the other way? Maybe that would have bubbled over catastrophically, too, and I definitely don’t want him connecting me using that line to stepping around on him. Which I wouldn’t ever do anyway. For someone who knows (and will tell you, just ask him) that he’s so superior to everyone else in every way imaginable, and just a couple days ago was telling me that the keeping an eye on me wasn’t because of jealousy… Ugh. Just. Ugh. I settle for pinching the bridge of my nose between thumb and forefingers hard enough that it’s a good thing I’m as durable as I am strong.
I don’t exactly think I’ve gotten to see Conner jealous before. He seems a lot more affronted than just that, however. And he looks like he’s only building up to a bigger head of steam.
“And I would love it if I didn’t have to.”
Because I hate this. I told Timothy Drake up front, when he asked me to keep Conner out of Gotham, that I didn’t want to keep secrets from Conner. If he doesn’t trust me then we’ve got a giant problem. Keeping secrets that aren’t mine to tell? Is one thing. This has all steadily evolved into something else entirely. I’m silently thankful for Freddy at least collecting himself and muscling on through the story. Sharing his ‘notes’ as it were, as had been the intention in the first place. I have to struggle to focus on that. The pieces of information. Instead of continuing to let my mind race and my frustration build. It’s already turning into a churning feeling in my stomach as it is.
“If Goddess Isis is riding driver’s seat of Isis, Adam’s wife then it makes even more sense why all the lightning. There’s rules in place. Zeus’ rules. So if he thinks she’s flaunting them.. you were there for the fallout of that. My half-brother?”
There’s a moment of puzzlement before a bulb clicks on. I’m still not used to thinking of myself as having siblings of any sort. Half or otherwise.
“…strength of Hercules.”
He’s not imbued with power like Freddy, not in the same way I assume because he was able to share it through the trials himself if I understood all I’d been told by either Freddy or Tim correctly. It was his divine birthright. Just like my powers were, even though they were kept from me by my mother until I turned sixteen.
“So if she tracked down any other demi-gods she would only get progressively more powerful. In addition to whatever trials she hijacks and steals. Can anyone do them? Or it is like… a limited entrant sort of affair. She must be technically within the rules to some degree or I’d think he. Zeus. Would just end it alogether.”
Conner: The way I cant my head is a telling sign that I’m not going to ‘Eye Laser’ Freddy right now. Although that is certainly not off the table long term, it’s certainly not a short term goal. With my arm around him, it would get my shirt dirty. Which, yeah, is actually a much bigger consideration than it probably should be in the measuring someone’s worthiness for Life or Death. But let’s face it, Freddy has a lot of bad juju going for him right now in my eyes. Not all of which is actually his fault and though I’m not one to split hairs, I do think he’s entitled to a little discussion before sentence is passed.
The two of them and this entire sharing of information? Probably should be soothing. But it isn’t. Because the questions I want answered aren’t really being discussed. Honestly, I can see why Cassie would keep me out of the loop on her aiding the Resistance. It makes sense. I’m too connected. Even under the them of the people she’s resisting. What I don’t get, is why she isn’t cluing me in to the broad strokes. Letting me in on the ruse, so that I can apply why she calls the ‘Luthor Genes’ to being subversive. That’s a skill set that I have in spades. That keeps bringing me back to Freddy Freeman here and his hug of my barely dressed girlfriend. He’s offered an answer to what I’d asked, if not to what I was actually seeking, so I feel like I sort of owe a quid pro quo…
“Whatever happened with your ‘Predecessor’, to get him in to the state he was when I first saw him? I don’t have a clue. Frankly, I’m sure you’re not going to want to hear it? I didn’t care at the time what was causing him to lose control. I was tasked with shutting it down. Needs of the Many, Outweigh the Needs of the Few. It was him or me, I picked me. I almost always pick me. Except when the choice is Her.”
The yarn he spins is not one I’ve got any real ideals about. Though I might seem to be a Bone Head, I’m actually not. These two just happen to be talking about a whole bunch of stuff that I have little basis for knowledge on. “Wow. Nerd-speak and me without my Wayne Corp Translator Droid. Just to be clear. Are you saying that Black Adam was in Fawcett City? The Black Adam? Like the Protector, slash Uncontested Ruler of Khandaq, Black Adam?”
“Raven says he is a dick. She’s who my ‘Boss’ sent to deal with him the last time he was in town. Over in New Troy. He dug up a half-mile trench of sewer system, before she managed to teleport him away from the City.” Hey, I’m not sure what she did. I just know she called it ‘Banishing’ like the guy was some sort of Demon from one of those Supernatural shows I like to watch with Momma Sandsmark. “Hey. I’ve heard of that too. The thing where one God can get the power of another God. There’s a N.O.W.H.E.R.E. open case on something like that.”
“I’ve mentioned it before. Y’know. When I was explaining why I’m not Jealous, so much as Protective. Do you ever have those moments, Frederick, where you don’t think anyone really listens to you?”
Freddy: Standing there I watch as two and half different conversations taking place and I wasn’t sure if I should participate or become a spectator. My eyes shut for a moment while I let both Cassie and Conner’s words rush over me. I understood the problems we were facing on my side of things. However, we there was another storm that was brewing that wasn’t going to halt anytime soon.
There were many things that I could speak about, but I wanted to stay on point, and that was going to happen as long we kept all of the air in the room some of it needed to be let out. So, I did just that I let a loud audible stream of air that both of them would have to take notice off while I looked between the brewing Conner versus Cassie event that was started to reach critical mass.
“This isn’t going to work. Not at all.” I said finally upon opening eyes and I don’t cower or look at my feet. I state simple and true.
“This going to end in a disaster. There’s a wall we’re headed towards and it’s going to end badly for all parties that are and are not involved if doesn’t get fixed. I would say table it, but I’m thinking that it’s been tabled to long.”
I can shrug it off and rush off to who knows where and do who knows what and I’m sure there are reasons on top of reasons why things are the way they are, but right now there needs to either be a détente or reckoning and I would prefer the later right now, because I don’t have time to be looking over my shoulder.
“So right now Clash of the Titans aside just talk. Say something, because I’m not going to quarterback this out there. Trust is fracturing and damn it I need that more than anything else right now. Trust in me. Trust in you and right now the trust between the two people who should have the most trust of all right now if I’m listening to seems like it’s surpassed frayed beyond the edges.” Did I know ever know and yes I could stay on point push through, but I can’t.
“I’ll be damned if I watch History repeat itself right before my eyes.” Right now Conner is little Baby Black Adam not in the making he’s there. Cassie is his wife Isis. It doesn’t take a wise man to know what would happen if something happened to her.
“See past the anger. Look past the rage. Face the fear. You are both afraid of losing one another…” Not to me. That is well established. “…to the roles you have chosen to play. The moment you turn away from one another is the moment you lose each other and if you lose one another things happen. Terrible things. Things that you might not be able to take back. Cassie you are Wonder Woman. Capable of great and amazing things and it has nothing to do with the fact that you can fly, take a punch and give better than 10 Tysons in his prime. However, all of that is outshined by your spirit and your effort to do the right thing. You are more radiant than the brightest star and your compassion no knows end from what I can tell. You could stand alone, but you choose not to.”
I look at Conner and smile. “Conner, you’re opinionated. Without a doubt an arrogant ass with a superiority complex. My might is right and fuck everyone else is how you live your life, but you save people. You protect the world. I haven’t seen you close up until now so I don’t have the all the insight, but I’ve seen what you do. You are the ends justify the means. Good or bad. Right or wrong. Doesn’t matter what they say, it matters what you say. I’m not going to pretend to know it all I don’t, but I know this. You love her and right now you’re terrified in so many ways. Terrified that I’m going to get her hurt possibly more. Terrified that you won’t be able to do what you’re known for saving people. Fuck the world if you can’t save the person you care about the most…fuck the world.” Not what good is he no fuck the world. In the game of chess he is King and Knight all in one and he will wreck the board if he has to.
“Get it out. I could be 100 percent wrong, but this has to stop. I’m not saying he’s wrong, she’s right, but fear is driving you both. Fear of the truth. Fear of the possibility and sooner or later that fear can be used against you. Fear makes us do terrible things, reckless things. Conner doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t know me, but he trusts you Cassie. He knows you. Don’t box him out. If he can’t trust you then he’s the last thing he would probably want to admit.” Alone and another person’s chess piece to be maneuvered and positioned as they see fit and neither of them want that. This isn’t want it is.
“Conner, you’re going to have to decide where you stand. You know it. Sneer, grind me into dust zap me into ash, but we all know it’s true. Just enough rope will be supplied until one of two things will happen for everyone involved. If it didn’t matter you wouldn’t be so scared right now. Scared that each step she takes is away from you and what you can offer.”
Figure it out.
“Isis has been at this a lot longer than any of us and if we’re going to stop her and deal with Adam then we can’t give them a quarter.” Adam’s raw power in her path. Isis goddess of life and magic can fuck with you in unimaginable ways. “Just as you are right now wanting answers. Isis is out there gathering what power she can to get what she wants and we’re that line that’s going to stand in her way. Shit show doesn’t even begin to explain what she’s going to throw our way.”
Order swung hard for years, decades now. Play by the rules. Chaos has been fueled and even Zeus knows that it must have its due.
“So, before I say one more thing about what happened and why the city I love is experiencing one of the if not the most horrible tragedy its ever faced. Fix this.” Can we please have one fractured couple on the field at a time please?
Cassie: Ugh. Conner’s addressing Freddy, but you can practically hear what he’s really saying. That he feels like I’m not listening. It takes about all of my willpower to not fire back with my own along the lines of ‘Yeah, Freddy, that is a funny feeling. Do you know what it’s like when someone listens to your opinions and then does what he wants anyway?’ Actually, it’s not so much willpower that stops me, I mean. My mouth’s partway open to return fire, when my new friend interjects. Wait. What? This isn’t going to work? What part of this isn’t going to work? Is he saying that he doesn’t want to help or accept help anymore? The open mouth then is about to start stammering out questions and assurances, until what he’s actually saying clicks.
He doesn’t mean Fawcett, and Isis and Adam and all the rest. He’s talking about my boyfriend and I squabbling and the entire mess of this little meet and greet. People fight. I mean, I have to assume it’s pretty common for a pair of teenagers who are learning who and what they are to step on each others’ toes more than once and to get into arguments accordingly. Except we’re not just Cassie and Conner, we’re Superman and Wonder Woman and we’re supposed to be doing something else. I know I’m sure not good enough at compartmentalizing to totally shut one off from the other, and I’m pretty much just as sure Conner’s not either.
Being called out and scolded is one thing, and no one likes that. But the reason I drop my eyes and my cheeks flare into an almost immediate and ashamed shade of pink has a lot more to do with the fact that he’s right. Wisdom of Damn Solomon. In one little diatribe, that I sure don’t interrupt once my mouth has closed again, he’s summed up what he knows of me from the three times we’ve met. Probably a lot more nice things that I would have ever said about me, or in those words but he’s still not wrong. I can feel the truth in them, or at least his belief that they’re true.
His summation of Conner, who he’s only met once but I spoke of at length (in much more positive notes than this conversation would have you believe), is uncannily spot on as well. The named qualities might seem like insults but nothing that he actually says is wrong. They’re all things I’ve known to be true about the boy for as long as I’ve known him. All except that last part. He’s the one that pushed me into this. All of this. The superheroing. The training. I know that NOWHERE’s involvement in my life was unavoidable, because I’m too powerful as a loose canon, and he’d tempered it. But he also taught me what it was. Set my back against everything they stood for before I even realized I could run faster than your average blonde. Conner thought he was doing what I wanted, by shoving me out into the great hero spotlight so why would he be scared about me embracing it?
Because you’re doing it without him, dumb dumb. And he knows it.
“…you’re. Right. I’m sorry.”
What is he right about, and which he am I speaking to? Jeez, it could be either and/or both of them right now. I’m just going to leave that up for interpretation by either party but frankly…what a week. I don’t think I’ve apologized to Conner twice in six months before, let alone twice in a week. Being sorry would require us really spending much time having conversations that those fit into. There’s an awkward moment where I’m folding my arms defensively across my chest. Then more protectively lower, across my half exposed stomach, before forcing myself to drop my arms to my sides though the clenched fists I don’t entirely manage to get rid of.
Seriously though. How did this guy get all that from not even a handful of conversation and some bickering? Superpowers. Or maybe he’s just a good read and the two of us are open books. Some of it I’d known. Some things I hadn’t but if he was right about part, he’ probably right about all. And if I’ve been making Conner feel scared or anxious? Well. I feel just about as awful right now as I did when Tim Drake guilt tripped me about not talking to my Mother when he doesn’t have his parents anymore. Any of them. Probably worse, actually, because this is Conner. And apparently there’s more we need to talk about than I even could have guessed. Open forum presented for us or not, there’s a lot that should probably be for his ears only. But I think I can sum up the most pertinent concerns in a way that could…hopefully let us move on.
Blue eyes come up, with lips pursed, to my boyfriend’s face before I suck in a breath like I’m not sure if I really want to say like I’m about to say and I’m bracing, then it’s exhaled in a loud sigh before I continue.
“I don’t want to sneak around on you and keep secrets, but I’m only doing this…” there’s a vague gesture of my hand to the group of us, but it’s meant more to imply everything. Fawcett. The other trips he doesn’t know all about. “… without you until I’ve got things right to do it with you.”
That was vague. More vague than I really meant it to be.
“Because I don’t know that we’re not on different sides of this war that’s setting up.”
And that was probably said in more of a doubting light than I really meant it. I know Conner wouldn’t act against me directly. But I also know that he’ll do whatever he thinks he has to do to keep me safe. Up to and including coercing me away from what I think is right, in order to keep NOWHERE and his father from using my mother, or him, or any number of things against me.
Conner: There are a lot of things in life that I don’t do well. Like being humble. When you literally have it all, it is very difficult to be humble. I can leap small buildings, I’m stronger than a locomotive, and I’m faster than a speeding bullet. That’s just my kryptonian side. My human side is born from an Evil Genius, who has more money than most entire countries. I’ve got it all, with a side of Tactile Telekinesis. It’s easier to be full of myself, than it is to be humble and I’ve never had a reason to doubt myself.
Another thing I don’t do well, is criticism. I stand there, arm around Freddy’s shoulder, as he dresses me down. Doing so with a set to my jaw that says I’m digging in with every word. Solomon doesn’t have to clue the guy in, I’m not buying in to some stranger telling us our problems. When you also add in that this is a stranger, who somehow knew about what happened with the one thing in life, that I feel a small shred of guilt about? There is a level of willpower being invested, for Cassie’s sake, in my not shutting his pretty mouth. Yeah. I’m also not exactly Boyscout that talks out their problems, I’m more of that Mike Tyson type that punches out their problems. Sorry, I can’t help it.
What most people don’t know about me, though? I wasn’t raised, I was grown in a test tube. Over time the tube got bigger, but I existed in a tube for two years before I met Cassie. During that time I was ‘raised’ in a Virtual Reality Simulation. The VRS was a comprehensive dream-like state that accessed deep rooted genetic memories from my two genetic donors. My ‘Parents,’ the Kryptonian Superman and the Human Lex Luthor. My virtual childhood was a mish-mash of Smallville, Kansas. That then became a teenage time at ‘Prep-School.’ By the time I was the ripe old age of Virtual 10, I had become to fully materialize my powers. One of which allowed me to begin to disassemble the world around me. Giving me the insight of my world being one construct inside another. This created a disconnected. One that gave me the ability to test the people who were ‘training me.’ I could act against my upbringing to test how I would be rewarded or punished.
Whenever I set a fire? The world reset. If I beat up the bully, instead of turning the other cheek? The world reset. If I killed the bully? I got a lecture from Pa Kent and then the world reset. When I raped a girl? The world reset. When I stole a car? The world reset. When I stole -all- of the Cars. The world reset. Over and over, I did whatever I wanted and learned, time and time again that there were no consequences for someone like me. Because who the fuck can stop me? For all of her Power? Cassie can’t. Freddy is on his way to being the Champion of the World. Can he stop me? No. Not a chance. Could they team up and stop me? They might last a few more minutes, but the result would be the same. There are no consequences in this world for me or people like me.
And then. I met Cassie Sandsmark. Who I showed my disregard for consequences on the first day. She in turn taught me something new. Something unique to this world, unlike the virtual reality one. I can’t just do whatever I want and get the reset until I get the results I want. She denied me. Time and time again. Over and over and over… until -I- did what she wanted. It was the first consequence I’d ever known. Over the last two years, I’ve learned that this world, this real world, will tell me no. It won’t reset. Things can go wrong. I can’t rely on the reset to fix them. And the truth is? I wouldn’t care. If it weren’t for the fact that the one thing I want? Seems to be categorically against bending to my every desire, at all times. She has her own plans, her own agenda.
In the last year, I’ve started to understand that I can still have what I want. There’s just a level of effort to be made. All the things I want aren’t necessarily given to me. I need to earn some of them. Unfortunately, just as I’ve learned that lesson. Just as I feel like I’ve started to get a sense of how this world works? The one thing I actually want, seems to be going in a different direction. We seem to be travelling on opposite paths. Honestly, I’m still considering popping Freddy’s head off of his shoulders when Cassie speaks. But. I’m actually listening. I’ve heard what he said. Some of it makes sense. Some of it makes more sense. A lot of it makes me want to ask if all they did was eat a burger, because this guy knows too much. In the end, only one thing is important.
“Stop,” the way I lift a hand to cut Cassie off is imperious and might leave them both thinking that I’m about to revert to standard Luthor-type, but then; “The only side that I’m on is your’s, Cass. I have my own thoughts, I distinctly have my own opinions. But. There is only ever one side. If there’s a ‘War Coming,’ then I’ll be on her side. Every. Single. Time. I’ll pick her side.”
“You’re right though, Cass. I’m not sure if we’re of the same mind on the politics of the world. I know you don’t like who I work for. Truth be told, I don’t like them either. I’m all too aware that if I don’t do what they want? They can’t punish me directly. So they’ll punish Cassie. I’m also aware, that if I go too far in to the opposition, that the person who made me can always make another me.” Finally unlacing my arm from around Freddy’s shoulders and letting him for from the impending threat that my closeness intimated, in order to take a step away and form a triangle between the three of us. “What you don’t know Mr. Freeman. Is that I’m only allowed to have Cassie, because they needed me to have a weakness. All the other kryptonian defects were bread out of me.”
“That puts me in a particularly precarious position. I have to protect her. Even if that means working in opposition to her Gotham Underground.”
Freddy: I wasn’t here to lecture. I was here because the door opened here. I was here because the door opened here. The door could have opened to any place the Wizard connected his sanctum to, but it opened here. Was it me or did it know through some compulsion I was unaware of. Some hand of fate that knew that this is where I needed to be. The only place that I could be.
I let that play through my mind as Cassie speaks and then Conner. I digest the words, but the thing is I am largely irrelevant. I’m a bit player in this tapestry that they’ve woven together. Just one strand of a larger design, but then again perhaps I am connected. I can ponder that another day. However, I have to use the tools that have been provide to me the best way I can the only way I know through talking Not ever battle fought is done with fists. Sometimes it’s done with words.
This has little to do with the truth setting anyone free and more about forging the trust that’s going to be required to get through all of this. I can feel Conner’s hold on me shifting until I’m released and we’re standing across from one another three equal points.
“Alright. You two have a lot more to discuss, but what I can offer is this. You’re not alone, Conner. You don’t have to look out for me if you don’t want to, but I will look out for you and Cassie and anyone else that needs it. Not because it’s what I’m supposed to do. Not because I have to do it or need to do it, but because I want to do it. I don’t know everything, but I do know when someone needs that hand up. When they need someone to back them up. I can’t tell you to trust me I have to show you and if that‘s what it takes then that’s what it takes.”
It’s who I am. It’s who I need to be. It’s who I want to be. “You’re part of this Conner. You’re a part of this world. Everyone needs protecting, but she is not a weakness any more than you are a weakness. She’s a strength. She’s your true north and nothing they can do will ever change that. If they come for one of us they come for all of us. I want to be your friend. Believe it or not I don’t have many that can understand what I’m going through. I need more. I want more. Let me be your friend. Better yet let me be your family. Family is more than blood. Family are the people you turn to when you can’t turn to anyone else. Family are the people who go to the wall for you. You were probably told who your family were, but you’ve already shrugged that. Don’t answer today. Let me earn that, but I promise you if you need me I will be there. We’ll figure whatever it is out.” It’s what I could offer.
As for Cassie. “Fair enough?”
Cassie: Conner laying off the buddy-buddy closeness probably ought to be a relief, but there’s always a chance. Because there’s always a chance he’s not moving to seem less menacing, but to be in better position to do something drastic. From the new vantage, slagging Freddy wouldn’t get shmutz on his shirt. I think it’s mostly off the table though, if anything because we would have words about it. More than words. Obliterating a criminal crocodile man that had tried to bite my arm off? I’m still not okay with that, but I’d be well past ‘not okay’ if anything were to happen right now. Or to Freddy at all.
I know Conner would take my side, I didn’t really need to question that. I know in most things he’s going to always have my back, and he frequently does things that at the time seem like the opposite of what I want, and then later turn out to be something I internally thank him for. That’s the instinct in him I have to worry about. Deep down, I’ve got warm and fuzzies at his words, but then the higher thought processes of the brain know that he’s actually just confirming the fear I expressed in different words. The doing things for my own good part means that he has my back, up until he feels the need to relocate my back away from the fight I want to fight, and taking me there kicking and screaming.
“It’s not the same thing, though Con. Because if I have to do something, and you think you have to do something counter to it to protect me, I know you will.”
He’s just said as much. I’m mostly reiterating to cement the point. And to illustrate my problem a little more for Freddy. I’ve been working to assemble pieces on my side, allies and heroes, setting up the board so that I can make a move. Steal some of their pawns for myself, and then make my move. That all sounds impersonal, and it’s not really how I think about it. I just know I can’t actually do what I need to do alone, and so I’m finding like minded people and trying to motivate them towards a common goal.
Most, if not all, of the anger’s gone out of my sails but I still let out a harumph of air as I push a hand through blonde curls.
“Conner. There really isn’t a Gotham Underground. And thank you Freddy. Yes. Fair enough. More than fair. And there’s more people out there like you that just want to help because it’s the right thing. I have to help them because there’s no one else in the …unique position I am to be able to.”
That’s something I suppose I haven’t said out loud before either, really. My eyes drift back towards Conner as I say them. They let him have me as a weakness, but it’s also something that gives me a lot of room to do this thing. And that’s why it has to be me, and now that I’ve seen it? There’s not going to be any backing down from it. Clearing my throat with a slight purse of my lips, I circle back a little.
“But. Yes. That Black Adam. He was in Fawcett before the robbery. I think he’s who introduced the players into it. And he is a giant dick, Raven isn’t wrong. And unreasonably powerful. ”
Pausing, blue eyes drift to Freddy again with a thoughtful tilt of my head.
“Has anyone actually seen Aunty Minerva since the robbery?”
Conner: Freddy seems to be awfully clued in to the world, in general and us specifically. I’m dubious at best over him knowing too much, but as he started to speak I had bought in. Felt comfortable talking about myself, my situation and my choices. It was easy, natural and instinctive. It was also out of character for me. Born of a frustration that stems from exactly what Freddy intuited. His intuition, while spot on, was more than a little bit perturbing. Because once he shifts from that tone of clearing the air, to actually talking about… Helping me. His three musketeers anthem. Each word makes me suspicious. I can’t even help it, I don’t trust people like that. According to my Father, people who offer something for nothing? Are really just after something they haven’t told you yet.
There’s nothing defensive about my posture now. But that’s a deceptive stance, as my hands slip in to my pockets. I’m rarely defensive, because -I- don’t actually understand the concept of being threatened. Literal or figurative threats have mostly just been people spitting in to the wind. It’s never worked with me. Freddy’s insights. Cassie’s comments. I’m not threatened by what they say, so I’ve got nothing to be defensive about. But that doesn’t mean that I’m buying in to a good deal of it. Especially the ‘Ra-Ra’ cheer from Freddy.
Whether I buy in to the hippie crap that the Hamburglar is saying, is up for debate another time. He started -this- portion of the conversation and he did it in a very good way. Better than she or I have been able to do. That leads me to accepting, at least, that this is now a dialogue that I’m not going to be ‘punished’ for later. “You’re right, Cassie. About most of that. I’m always on your side, but I will protect you. Even if that means protecting you from yourself. You’re the one who taught me that. Isn’t that exactly why you keep trying to teach me this ‘Better Way?’ This is one of our problems, Brighteyes. -I- think you keep a running set of these high moral double standards that you hold everyone else too.”
“It’s okay for you to keep secrets. It’s not okay for me to keep secrets. It’s okay for you to ditch me. Not the other way around. It’s perfectly fine for you to run off and go on a date with someone else? But you’re mad at me about trying to save a girl from my ‘Evil Overlords.’ It’s never black and white. You want me to play around these shades of grey all the time, but the rules change every time we talk switch subjects. At the risk of sounding like a petulant child, that’s stamping his foot…
“If you don’t want me doing what I think is best to protect you? Then swallow that spoon full of medicine yourself. Tell me what the hell is going on and let me make up my own Gods damned mind. You’re managing me. It might not be the same as physically dragging you off to the Moon, to save your life. But it’s still making decisions for me. It’s still not letting me make them myself. But… you don’t trust me to make the right ones. Because you also don’t think there is any other right choice but the one you’re making.”
Giving the two of them a slight shrug at the ‘rest of this.’ I don’t know any Aunty Minerva. Black Adam is a known entity to the people I work for, but it’s hard for him not to be. He’s the rare Meta-Human who doesn’t hide from N.O.W.H.E.R.E. because he doesn’t have too. Not only does he have the power to keep most of the Project at bay, but he’s also a recognized sovereign leader of a foreign country. He’s just about as ‘Off Limits’ as you can possibly get. While he’s in his own country, that is.
I haven’t agreed to any of this Circle of Trust stuff, because it’s clear I’m more than a little hurt about some of the topic we’re openly discussing. But I’m able to fix upon the ‘Business Aspect’ of all of this too. “You’re wrong, Cass. There actually is a Gotham Underground. You think you’ve been getting sent all over the country by the tooth fairy? Does the Tooth Fairy have good intel? Where would that intel actually come from? Come on, Beautiful. Your ‘best friend’ was actually a shape-shifting alien from Mars, that can read minds. Do you really think -my- best friend was an accident?”
Tilting my head in the direction of Freddy then, I take a deep breathe. Even by my standards. “Look. You have problems with Black Adam? Fine. You need help? Superman helps those who need it. I’ll help you. And not just because Cassie seems to trust you. I don’t need to trust you. Or her. To know that Black Adam is bad news.”
“You want that Amulet that you’re carrying protected? From him? Give it to me.” Just like that, I offer my hand to Freddy Freeman. “There’s someone here in the City that can keep it safe.”
Freddy: I take in what Cassie says and remember how we came in contact with one another. It wasn’t happenstance. She was there to find me. Someone sent her to connect with me. Thing is that as much as I know there needs to be focus there was a much larger focus to be concerned about, but right now if I can help I would.
It’s never as easy as anyone would like it to be. Life’s not built that way. Life’s messy. It’s ugly and disorganized. It pushes you to the brink and demands more, it demands a lot. Thing is hearing, knowing, seeing and believing are totally different things. Effort has to be made everywhere. Someone has to be willing to stand upon the edge, but again a longer conversation.
Hopefully this puts everyone on the path towards that.
As to Cassie’s statement about Black Adam do I dare say I sympathize on a level. Not excuse. Not explain. Sympathize. I’m not here to plead his case. I’m here to try and figure out how to prevent what I think is going to occur from occurring.
I think if Cassie does meet Black Adam it will be an eye opener. As for Conner I don’t know. He could go anywhere from this is a bad dude to #lifegoals selfie. I don’t know. I have to believe it would be the former.
“No, not a peep. Thing is given who she is when she stepped outside the bank to make the list of demands known no one said anything about her. No recognition.” Zero from what I could tell. Which let on that perhaps something was going on even then. Either way she was off the radar.
If they were back on track to discuss what was happening he needed to tell them. “Adam shared that Hercules strength was acquired and Atlas his heart was devoured. That in itself would break the Trials. To begin them an initiate has to be stand before the gods and judged whether or not they can complete. I doubt that was done. Power was stolen. Not only that Isis is actively working on the mortal plane which I believe is a non-even if she’s possessed a human. It’s less human and more Isis the goddess from what I can tell.” So right there you have a loophole to actively work, but then a breaking of at the trials.
“But the trials remain because…of a technicality. Zeus isn’t going to award Isis when she doesn’t play by the rules nor is he going to award me because I have technically not completed the trials.” I suck my teeth trying to weave it together some.
“Isis can’t afford a stalemate. She’s going to force his hand. Adam said she has her own power everything else is just juice for her to use, but for what. To restore Osiris? Perhaps, but to what degree. Life, death there has to be a balance. That much life has to be balanced by that much death to restore and to do whatever else she wants. I didn’t have a chance to look over the books, but it’s in there somewhere.” I explain
Once the power is gone it’s gone. It doesn’t come back.
“I didn’t get much more from Adam after that, because the Boiler Room was under siege by Crocodile Men and women some of them were high school students. Others were policemen. They could have been there for me, but I don’t even know if they knew I was there. I think they were there for Adam. Under orders from Isis. Could have been a clean-up crew, but these weren’t fake Tommy gun holding guys. They were even more vicious. They were wild ready to do death rolls with anyone that got in their way, but Adam marched out and tore through them like a lawnmower through grass. He didn’t just knock them down. He tore them apart one after the another. Bones shattering, flesh ripping, bodies torn in half.”
I could feel the blood draining away from my face. “I could hear it before I saw it and when I saw it that’s when I saw it that’s when I realized that these Croc People were students and probably teachers. Their clothing was hanging off them. There had been gun fire, because the FCPD arrived. Callaghan. He tracked me down, because he believed I was connected but he thought I was the one doing this. He realized he was wrong, but it was too late. All he could do was push me back and make sure none of the crocs could get me. His own men and women had been turned and that’s when I saw the responsible party. Sobek. With one slash he can turn someone into a crocperson. I watched Callaghan change before my eyes, but instead of lunging at me he shut the door.”
Sighing I don’t stop. “That Boiler Room melt down was Adam putting an end to it.” End justify the means. “When I opened the door I was here.” Here again. I could have been brought anywhere. The Sanctum is connected to places all over the world. I have to believe it brought me here for a reason.
“Not just Adam, but from Isis from both of them. Hell all of them.” Considering how screwed up this was. I made an impassioned plea for trust and now I was being asked to hand over the amulet. I hold my reflexes in check, because they’ll do me great disservice if I look at Cassie to get a nod of approval. That would shatter everything I just said.
Sliding my hand into my pocket I remove the amulet from it. Callaghan died to get this to me. He believed I would know what to do about it. Part of me wants to hold onto it to see if there was someone I could talk with Osiris. Is that a possibility without having him possess me? I could consult Solomon, but right now I press the amulet into Conner’s hand.
If this is going to work. If there is going to start somewhere it has to start here.
“We have to keep this out of play as long as we can. When this is over I’m going to want this back so it can be dealt with properly. Thank you, Superman.”
Cassie: No. It’s not okay for me to keep secrets, while he’s not allowed to. Just like it’s not actually okay for him to be murdering people while I’m not. Murder is still murder. Dishonesty is still dishonesty. Whether it’s against a CrocodileMoster that tried to disarm your girlfriend, or to keep your boyfriend from doing something you don’t want to do. It’s not that I don’t understand the disconnect here. I actually do. I feel awful for the secrets and the sneaking. I told Tim up front that I had a problem with it. I was just doing it anyway, managing the situation as best I could, because I needed to. I’m not sure that Conner would feel bad either way. He didn’t feel bad for the Crocodile in Fawcett. He was completely upfront about it, too. Wouldn’t apologize because he wasn’t sorry. And would have made the same choice over, and over if it were presented to him. Motivations don’t change an act being right or wrong. Conner just doens’t look at things the same way, and I’ve known that all along.
He’s also vastly oversimplifying everything that he’s just used as his examples but I’m not actually going to engage, or re-engage, in the argument right now. Because I don’t want to ramp it up again, but also because… this is exactly what he’d been building his indignation up towards earlier I think. That he thinks I keep changing the rules without letting him know I am. And that unlike in his VR childhood, he doesn’t get a do-over to get it right once I have. No take backsies. So how to break this down yet again to something simple…and hopefully inarguable…
“It’s not that, Conner. I trust you to be on my side, and I actually trust you more to make the good choices now than I did before. But I also know that you work with mind readers that I don’t trust at all, and I am not entirely sure how solid your mental Fortress of Solitude is.”
Or if it just basically consists of constantly projecting awful and lewd things so that the rest of his ‘team’ does their best to shut him out. Knowing him that’s a great strategy. Unless they have to look for something because. Say. Wonder Woman just trounced one of NOWHERE’s agents with Batman in Central City and they need to find out if he knows what I’m up to.
“…and she is not my best friend, and all of that was by attrition and you damn well know it.”
The two most likely to be labeled best friend for me are, well. Him. Or his best friend. Definitely not any of the girls I know from school, and double definitely not M’gan/Kelsey. Maybe if I met her in different circumstances, or she hadn’t gotten the impression that high school should be like Gossip Girl and she spent a solid year bullying the bejeezus out of me. That one I think drank the Koolaid without realizing what it was. And as for Raven. Well. Raven I can’t say the same for. Still. I’m squinting at Conner for a moment. Not because of his manipulations at getting a well connected ‘best friend.’ But because I don’t actually know if Tim told Conner his secret or not. It would make my life a lot easier, and all of this easier to talk about with him if he had.
So I go the route that was public. The world saw Wonder Woman out with Batman in Central City. Obviously we were working together, because the Bat was outside of Gotham, which meant something brought us there together.
“No Tooth Fairy. Just from Batman. And so far his intell seems to be pretty spot on.”
I end up folding my arms across my chest again, but not because I’m on guard from more verbal sparring with my boyfriend. Freddy’s finally telling the story of what landed him here in Metropolis today, and I’m listening with rapt attention because I need to know. Anything and everything to understand what’s going on, and to piece it all together. My expression goes pretty quickly from attentive to ill and distressed.
“…oh, Freddy…”
It’s barely above a whisper. I felt awful from hearing the news, and the truth is so much worse. Having the men from the bank be people that were at least crooks to begin with had softened their situation a little. These were kids. Innocent people that were used, and then torn apart without a care in the world because it was convenient or useful for an opposing set of Gods and Monsters. My shoulders shift quickly, partly shaking myself back into the present and partly out of a shudder of disgust.
“With all that lightning… do you think it’s possible she’s dead? That Isis is possessing someone else now? Did Adam say what he wanted in the Sanctum?”
I’m more than a little shocked that Conner offers to take the amulet. A degree of extra shocked past that when Freddy actually does it. I assume he means to give it to my Mother, actually, but I’m not going to question or clarify. It’s a display of attempted trust and I’m not going to ruin it on accident.
“It’s not the only one. There’s more of them. Like. Tons of them. Supposedly they’ve all got protectors in place but…”
So did this one. Freddy just wasn’t ready, and Billy was dead. And it means it’s only a matter of time if we let this drag out.
Conner: So. She trusts me, but not the people I work with. I can actually see that point, accept it as valid and even to a point agree with it. But. “Babe, listen to yourself. You don’t trust the people I work with. But at least -I- trusted you enough to let you know them and make that choice not to trust them. Again. You don’t even trust me to make that choice. So you make it -for- me. You want me to buy in to a War, for the side that I don’t even know. With not a single person I have a single reason to trust. Except … your side has a secret ninja meta-human that attacked me while I was trying to help her.”
“Yeah. Your friends sound loads better.” That scowl tells the story of my sarcasm, but… “I’m not trying to prolong our … disagreement… I just don’t think you -see- how unfair you’re treating me. And I’m the jerk in this relationship. You’re totally stealing my thunder.”
It’s probably best to leave the discussion about M’Gann alone for now. We’re getting a little deep in to other people’s business. Giving away details that might get us both in trouble. Or get Freddy mind-wiped. So I’m choosing, with a shrug of the broad shoulders, to accept her point. Look there? Turning the other cheek from one thing, to the other. Freddy’s ‘story’ is more like a nightmare. Not for the first time, am I more than a little okay with the fact that stuff like this doesn’t make me cringe quite like it makes Cassie’s shoulders hunch up.
“Gods can’t die,” I seem awfully firm on this subject. “There are states they can be taken to that are ‘good as death,’ but they don’t die. Not in any conventional way. Captured? Taken Prisoner? Sure. Tortured. Tormented. Even vivisected. Can do. Sent away. Teleported in to space. Shot in to the sun? Even banished to other dimensions or having their astral essence separated from their corporeal form? Doable. But they’re a lot like the Universe’s cockroaches. They always turn back up. Trust me on this. N.O.W.H.E.R.E. has done extensive research and testing.”
Which is also a bit more information. For Freddy, but also for Cassie. We’ve talked before about the sacrifices I was forced to make to be allowed to ‘Keep her.’ She held a wealth of benefit as an asset, but there were clearly other things she could have provided to the Project. Not all of which would have required her to be complicit. A demigod to test? She’s prime, grade-A, material.
I didn’t expect him to give the Amulet to me in the first place, but the moment it’s in my palm? The ‘Wisdom of Solomon,’ is no doubt going to pick out the way the artifact actually doesn’t touch my skin. It’s maybe a micro-meter off the surface of my flesh. Kept just a bit away from actual contact. I’ve dealt with magical items before. They were one of Superman’s weaknesses. Like I said. Those were bread out of me. I’m all but immune to the effects of magic because, for the most part, they simply can’t touch me. My fingers close around the amulet, and it’s carefully tucked in to my pocket.
“Don’t worry,” shooting a glance from Freddy to Cassie as I speak. “I’m not going to give it to NOWHERE. Despite the fact that I’m pretty sure they’d take your side in this against Adam. I’m equally sure Raven shouldn’t be allowed near this anymore than Him. Until it’s safe, I’ll hold on to it personally.”
“We should put this in your Mom’s vault, Cassie. The one in the Museum Basement that she thinks I can’t see because it’s lined with Lead.”
FreddY:One compartment was closed and another had opened. It was all about getting the job done now. Which meant that if the amulet was safe I had to figure out what the next move was. “It’s possible that the human shell, Aunty Minerva , was destroyed and now Isis was back in the body of Adam’s wife. As Mister Spock says, “There are always possibilities,” and right now all I can do is speculate. Given that she hasn’t reemerged I would say yes she’s gone, but if someone’s aware of who she is if they can check into that they could probably find out faster than we could. Callaghan could.” But that’s no longer possible. Either way it’s difficult to say.
He nodded to what Conner said about killing a god. He had seen that first hand when Callaghan was killed and Achilles blessing was transferred to him. “In the end energy is energy. It cannot be created or destroyed, but it can be transferred or converted.” It was another way of thinking about it.
“Also, Adam said she that she was delayed. That we were only delaying her. I think if I had to hedge a guess, Aunty Minerva was a mule of sorts.” That’s what it felt like the more he thought about it. There was something a thought that crossed my mind, but I wasn’t sure if I should share it. I was a stray thought of look at me while I’m here instead of looking over there.
Apparently, there were a lot of moving pieces in other areas, but it was best not to engage. The air had been let out of the room and continued to be let out of the room, but add anything to it and it would only build back up. I had a good idea of where everyone stood in general. Navigating that would become an art onto itself, but for the moment I had to focus my thoughts on what I knew, what I thought and how to best use that information so I could act.
I still had the lingering question of where was the Wizard? Was he out of harm’s way? I couldn’t sit and chat with Adam he wasn’t in a chatting mood.
“When I first arrived I thought he may have come to seek the Wizard, but he may have been on the heels of Isis. Before the almost heist at the bank I had been out of the area.” My trials had taken me away from the City. “It’s possible he was attempting to determine how to safely separate his wife and Isis or determine what her end goal was. Adam said she suffered because their people had suffered.” He considered that.
“Perhaps that’s a place to start. If Isis has returned to his wife I’m at a loss, because I don’t know what his wife looks like in the here and now. That would take time, but maybe by removing the amulet we’re force her hand and she’ll expose herself.” I need to collect my thoughts and go over everything that happened, but right now at least I knew the amulet was out of play.
Solmon gathered information about Conner, information that would be tucked away to go over at another time or perhaps now. It may be something to use. Just a matter of how and when. Right now I needed to look at the books. Those books on Osiris and Hades those might hold something. I needed to take another look at them. We need time and right now it was slipping away.
“I need to go back to the Sanctum. There might be something there I overlooked. I have more time than I did before. I need to review those books. It may give us clues.” A chance to keep pace with Isis and predict Adam’s next move.
Cassie: Yes, darling you are the jerk in this relationship. It goes unsaid though, at least out loud. Conner said it for me, I suppose. My lips purse and pull sharply to the side once again. Clearly I don’t agree. Well, actually I do agree that my friends are better, but he’s being sarcastic about it. He knows more about Black Canary than I do, and otherwise my ‘friends’ consist of his best friend, Freddy here, and hopefully a speedster from Central City. Who has an outlook a lot like Freddy’s. He wants to help people. So I let my face say what I’m not saying. And that we’re definitely not done with this topic in the long haul but for now?
“Which is why she tried to get you to give up yours before. Why the Gods only have one champion at a time, even though there might be dozens of people worthy of being one.”
Absently nodding to what both of the boys are saying. Freddy takes my thought, and fleshes it out with something that makes sense. We’d seen ‘Minerva’ explode in the lightning. That was an amount of power and force meant to destroy the shell at least. Minerva herself not being around would be a kind of confirmation, and Isis’ energy having to return to where it came from, or to its previous host made sense. There’s just something that doesn’t click or connect for me. What hadAdam given to Minerva on that security footage I saw? If she were an unwitting mule maybe that had been the transfer but it doesn’t make sense to me. If he’s trying to stop his wife, why would he help her get closer? Or maybe Isis had already been in Minerva and he was trying to act against her… except I think that the display would have been a lot more than scowling if that were the case.
I’m in agreement with my Superboyfriend. Maybe not for the same reasoning but ancient artifacts are Mom’s thing. I just didn’t know exactly how MUCH of Mom’s thing they were until the other night.
“…ugh. Lead lined? Really? Do these people not understand you don’t put giant red buttons with ‘dont’ push me’ signs on them if you don’t expect them to be pushed…”
I’d like to think my Mom’s smarter than that. She also knows Conner almost as well as I do. She’d probably take his side in all this, too, in fact. Either way, it’s a perfectly good place to stash the thing. I turn back to Freddy one last time, nodding my understanding. I want to give him another reassuring hug, or at least a solid arm pat but I opt to stay at my point of the triangle we’ve formed here. I don’t need to antagonize anyone further than I already have.
“Okay. Stay safe. Let me… us… know if you find anything, and we’ll do the same.”
Conner: This entire discussion has left me feeling… strange about a lot of things. Not just about the resentment I’m feeling, but also about how I’ve been viewing a lot of the world. How much of what I’ve heard Raven say did I actually retain? Not a whole lot. A lot of the things she or Doctor Fairchild say is in one ear and out the other, because it’s information that I’ve considered up until now to be inapplicable to my life. Even while dating Cassie, we didn’t have to deal with things of this nature because she wouldn’t venture out of her backyard to fight crime. Much less fighting other demigods, real gods or clandestine organization. Now that things have changed, I’m regretting that I didn’t pay more attention.
“When Black Adam caused all that damage to New Troy, he was looking for something. I’ll find out what he was looking for and exactly where. While you’re looking in to this ‘Sanctum,’ I’ll get as much information as I can from my sources. Then Cassie and I can check in to whatever this Adam guy was looking for.”
I’m not entirely sure what they’re talking about when it comes to ‘giving up his,’ nor this Aunty Minerva stuff. I’m more than a little lost on about half of the things they’re discussing. But what I do know, is that the three of us actually agree on a central ‘Bad Guy’ here. That no matter which set of friends we, Cassie and I, agree upon? Both sets don’t care for people like Black Adam. There is a bridge there, that she and I can walk upon to find a way out of this quagmire of irritation at one another.
There’s also a very strange surety over this just being irritation. Not genuine anger. Because as much as it makes me angry, I’m not angry at Cassie. I’m angry that a situation exists that would cause me to -be- angry even near her. Which in and of itself serves to make me a little annoyed, because I’ve got all the impact of being mad at Cassie. Without the actual anger at her specifically. It’s like this terribly inconvenient black hole of anger. With no one for me to aim that anger at or make pay for the problem.
“In the mean time. You and I have a date, Cass. This time you’d better stock up on carbs before hand.”
The fire engine red Ferrari isn’t actually parked outside. No way I could have gotten here that quickly in a car, no matter how poorly I drove it. So in lue of that, I offer her my other hand. She doesn’t have to take it, but I want her too. Because the truth is, we need some alone time to discuss things and I can get the two of us out of here without being seen. Even by the Security Cameras.
Cassie: That little teeny part of me that likes to act counter to what sense and my usual sort of behavior would have me do wants very much to just look at that offered hand and speed my own self out of here. Or to just walk out, much as I walked in, like a normal sort of human girl would do. But the truth is, despite the continued lesser bickering that went on afterwards Freddy’d made a lot of sense. About a lot of things. And pointed out things I should have known and didn’t.Conner had, too. Just maybe without as much clarity. Or maybe he could have been crystal clear and it still wouldn’t have come across quite the same because of my irritation.
But not so deep down? In fact most of the conscious parts of me… feel pretty poorly about the entire thing. Have for a while. Having to be confronted with the actually hurt feelings of my invulnerable boyfriend makes it exponentially worse. So I take what I’m going to pretend is an olive branch and I lace my fingers into his. Taking it past that and moving in so my shoulder bumps his. Not necessary for him to move me. Tactile Telekinesis… but still. Nice. And a little body language micro-apology.
“…yikes. Before? I didn’t need to go to the rest of those classes today anyway.”
by Michele | Oct 22, 2017 | Chronicles
Shiera: Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart. A well known line, from a well worn children’s book, gathering dust in the home that I haven’t been back to in weeks. Not because of that book about a boy, and a bear and a wood. That book isn’t the cause of, or reason for, anything at all and yet it still nags at the back of my mind. Needling, distracting, and refusing to go away like the snippet of something heard on the radio or a jingle off the television. There’s no reason why it caught, or why it insists on such a demanding and incessant loop and yet there it is. Over and over. The smallest things… I know where it is, even though I haven’t handled it or thought of it in years. Jumbled in with the veritable treasure trove of flea market finds from around the world.
There’s always been a magic in them. Something I couldn’t resist, and pretty quickly found I shouldn’t. Like the line, and that book, they would nag and nudge to the point of obsession until they’d been acquired. A manic feeling that would build and boil until I’d acquired the source of my infatuation. I used to think that I was crazy. The vivid, irrational images that would come whether I was awake or asleep. The thoughts that weren’t mine, and memories that couldn’t have been. Now I know I’m crazy, but crazy doesn’t always mean mistaken. There’s a rhyme and a reason to the madness and it had been pushing me towards an end point for as long as I can remember. My teachers, no matter what the medium, had always said that I had an old soul behind my eyes, and in my tastes. They just didn’t know how literal that saying might have been. There’s wonders in the world, but no matter how people might fantasize about them, rational thought never allows for them to be present in their reality. Like something intangible guards that line, lets you see over the other side, but view it as nothing more than some… movie. A show that you see, and know, but also can’t know.
Each time you do something, it ought to get easier. You know the ropes, the moves of your dance, you find your partner and then you work through the patterns together. My life, my lives, have all had a pattern. It’s an unfortunate and tragically simple one. Like cosmic magnets that can’t help but be pulled to one another, because that’s where they belong, even though at the end of that journey will be catastrophe. That’s why I know I’m insane. The very definition of it is repeating the same actions over and over, expecting a different result. And I’ve apparently done this an unthinkable number of times already, but there’s a sense of urgency that says that I may not have to again. For good, or ill.
Two months ago, it had been a feeling much like now and the hand-me-down copy of Winnie the Pooh. The nagging, insistent feeling. Glimpses of thoughts and memories that were mine, and yet weren’t mine, that had led to the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. I’d picked up my well worn passport and gone, even though the more important pull was south, and west. In St. Roch. A pull that promised everything I was looking for, and our Doom. He’s always been the passionate, hot headed one. Every time. He’d want to fight, bull through, and scream into the face of anything that was going to come. I know the face my other half wears this time. He knows mine. And yet I’d left anyway, because I’d felt like I had to. He thinks we have everything we need there. That the museum houses our answers, but I felt there were more questions. Why did I feel like there were holes? Why had finding him filled in blanks, and at the same time revealed even more parts of my soul? Redacted and lost to my mind.
I’d found my answer eventually, or at least one of them. It had taken a jaunt into the London Necropolis, and some light grave robbing of a mausoleum labeled Anne St. Claire. She’d been a nurse, and a hero, during the horrors of the last Great War, lost her life like so many others in the region had at the time. As had her soulmate. My soulmate. As the years spun on, the world’s evolved and the weapons of it are greater in scale, less personal in their annihilation. That particular bomb had been loosed with a purpose, though. Anne St. Claire had been a target, and once more the soul and its’ magic had been loosed to…wherever it is that it goes. But not all of it. Some portion of it was still here, I knew I had to find it. The closer I got, the more I could feel it like a vibration in my bones.
Because it turns out, all those knickknacks really were magic. Or had some magic to them. Some are just a great deal more potent than others. And this one, metallic pendant dulled with dust and grime, has more than most. There should probably have been some guilt for disturbing her sleep, shame for stealing from a corpse, but it’s mine. The only regret really had come when I wound the chain around my neck. Then the screaming had begun. Not just for the pain of the jewelry burrowing itself into my skin, wrapping tendrils of itself around my spine, settling into my flesh like the fragments of memories that come with it. Flashes of other heroes, of the battles with beings of great power, and the face of my immortal foe and the satisfaction he had of winning yet again, bittersweet and awful.
When I’d come back to the world, I’d been curled up in a fetal position, still in that tomb, head clutched in my hands and the necklace was gone. My frantic impulse to hunt for it stopped only because I could hear people coming, guards hunting for the source of the screams most likely, and because the sense of emptiness and missing was less. The pull that I’d felt here gone. I’d found in my hotel that night that the pendant might have vanished, but it had been replaced with glittering, silvery marks across my shoulders and back, vanishing up under my hair. I’d chased more shadows. Ghosts of lives past, but with details infuriatingly missing it had grown more difficult. I think I was also testing myself. My resolve.
Until today, I’d followed that back to St. Roch. Back to where I don’t even need to call to try to find out if Carter’s present or not. If anything, I feel it more strongly. The Nth metal that’s burrowed into me, resonating with what is housed inside this building, and with the soul that resides in Carter Hall. Whatever it is that drives us ever through this cycle of life and death.
“When do you last remember flying, Carter?”
No hello, no sorry I walked out and haven’t said a word to you in weeks, it’s there in my eyes that won’t quite meet his, though.
Carter: The love that Carter and Shiera held was a tale that spun across centuries, a saga of life, death and resurrection. They have been everything, from Wild West heroes to Pinkerton Detectives. Carter was fully aware when Shiera left, he remembered the feeling of her warm body sliding out of their bed and not returning. Instead of wallowing and worrying, Cater buried himself in his work at Stonechant, setting up the exhibitions, he figured Shiera had her reasons for leave. But it’d been nearly two months since she left and Carter didn’t bother go looking for her.
If Shiera wanted him to go, she would have wanted him to go. But she didn’t, so here he was. Working. When she finally came home, she’d find him at the dining room table working on the laptop. Cater wasn’t one to be emotional, though, he often wore his emotions on his sleeve. He didn’t acknowledge her for a long moment. But when she spoke, he looked above the monitor of the computer, his eyes searching hers though they didn’t meet his.
“Sometime during the sixth century. You were Lady Cecilia, and I was Brian Kent, The Silent Knight. You helped me with my wounds when I would come home” offering. Carter missed flying, though, it was only recently he remembered that. Maybe it was the connection he shared with Shiera that made him remember. Slowly coming to a stand, he comes over to her, his steps easy and confident as he stepped up to Shiera. Raising his hand, he cradles her cheek in his palm as he stares down at her.
“I remember how you worried about me. I know you wished that you could come with me. But, you had your own actions. Dealing with the English Court. Something I never had the finesse for.” It was true, Carter was a brute, a barbarian. Though, while he had land and showed compassion, politics was something he never dealt with well. Right now though, there was the giant elephant they needed to address. Licking his lips, he trails his hand down to her chin and lifts it just enough so he could look into her eyes.
“I don’t ask much of you, and in turn, you don’t ask much of me. All I ask of you is to tell me what you are doing. What is inside your head.” the room is dark, illuminated only with the bright screen of the laptop. Carter didn’t worry about her, he knew she could take care of herself. “Is that too much to ask of you?” curious as he leans down and gives her a light kiss. “I believe I have a lead on one our past lives. Brian Kent and Lady Cecilia, of all things.”
Shiera: This isn’t how I expected Carter to react. I’d played out the scenario over and over during the last few weeks that I’d been out of the country. While there aren’t any vivid memories of my abandoning him, and that is what this was, I could take what I knew of his character now and then, and apply it to the situation. We may come back as different people each time, different origins and backgrounds, physical make-ups and nationalities but there are some things that hold true across the endless lifetimes. Personality traits, because at the core of it, Carter and I are both still the same people. Altered slightly by what any particular childhood might have provided, but always with the same base proclivities. He’s a fighter. I’m a healer. Dramatic over simplifications, but those aren’t just occupations. They’re markers of our souls.
There’s no yelling. No outward anger. Maybe he’d already worked through that since I saw him last. He’s relating information about our pasts, this time one that I only can marginally remember. It isn’t even remembering. Sometimes, my thoughts feel like Swiss cheese or a sieve. Maybe a half-complete jigsaw puzzle is a better analogy. The border is there. Most of the defining parts, but there’s still damnable blankness that keeps you from entirely making out or understanding the picture. Especially when you don’t have the box to reference. The facts that he gives me, his own memories, serve as an anchor point for me to connect to, however. Assigning a name, and a face, to the snippets of things I can recall that seem to fit. Endless tedium in a dreadfully uncomfortable chair, despite the amount of plush cushions there were underneath me.
“And I would have much rather gone with you.”
Eyes focus again, fixing on the here and now instead of where they’d gone as I spaced out into those thoughts and fragments of my soul. And his. But it was not done. Lady Cecilia couldn’t have gone to war, not the physical kind. Hers was one of words and social graces. He’s closer now, I’d almost missed the approach, and the gentle fingers on my chin bring my face up to face his. My eyes don’t follow for a moment, though after a soft breath I force them to. I think I might have handled yelling better.
“No. It’s not.”
But I’ve got a nagging feeling, and that almost frantic need to get our collective ‘shit’ together. Operating on a timer, when you can’t actually see the clock and have no concept if you’ve got minutes, or only a couple seconds. All I know is what memories have shown me. That the closer we get, the more in danger we actually always are. How do you keep someone at arm’s length, when deep down you know they’re home and you shouldn’t be anywhere else? The answer seems to be so far, that you don’t. Not well. The apology is there in my eyes, as I lift my chin that touch higher to return the soft pressure of the kiss.
I want to tell him what I’ve been doing, but my interest is piqued. Especially because this is a life he’s talking about that I only barely remember.
“I… maybe really should have taken you with me then. I was in London.”
Carter: Sliding his hand down from her chin, down to her hand, he gives it a squeeze and pulls her to around the table to the laptop. “Brian Kent’s shield has been uncovered. Though, It’s not in England.” pointing to the map. “It’s in Egypt. I don’t know why, I can’t find any clues connecting the two.” clicking over to an image of the shield with their crest emblazoned on the front of it. “It’s in the hands of a private collector by now. I believe with the shield, it’ll recover my memories of one of our past lives. The full memory.” saying as he turned to her.
“What did you find in London?”
Asking, it was obvious she didn’t just decide to go on vacation in London. She went there for a very specific reason. The shield was just one of their many items that needed to be recollected, but there seemed to be more to it, all the little trinkets they have found seemed to have awoken ancient memories, and now it was only the bigger items they needed to complete the full puzzle. Their gauntlets, their maces, his shield, her pendant and finally, their helmets which was the final piece of the puzzle they needed to connect everything together.
“The private collector is a man named Curtis Knox. Who knows what else he may have…” trailing off as he opened a picture of a man with long black hair and a beard “As far as I can tell with the information that is available, he had made a name for himself in the last few years uncovering ancient artifacts and keeping them for himself.” looking over the picture, Carter shakes his head.
“We’re going to have to take back what rightfully belongs to us.”
Shiera: It’s as easy as that. So simple. So uncomplicated. Just a larger hand taking mine, and leading me over to demonstrate what he’s uncovered. No fight. No harsh words. The feeling of rightness that slides into place when I’m around him, and makes the last few weeks feel like insane, self-imposed torture. I had told myself I was doing it for us, trying to find more hints and clues to what we’d need to protect ourselves. To protect each other. I think the truth is I was trying to see if I could do it at all. If maybe separating myself from him would save Carter from what memory says is in inevitable fate. It wasn’t any way to live. An empty pit in my chest, mixed with an unscratchable itch. The latter had actually only got worse, stronger, after I’d pilfered the relic from that tomb.
Taking my hand back as Carter shows me the coordinates for where he thinks we need to go, I lean in to read the information but after a moment those fingers return to him, resting on his shoulder to support my posture. But the real truth is I just want to touch him, even lightly.
“I think you’re right. There’s something about the metal. Almost like it’s a trap. Or a box. For that part of your memories. More than just the memories.”
I can see the screen perfectly well, but I bring my face closer to it still. As if simple proximity was going to impart the answers we needed to me better than the text alone ever could, but I keep speaking as I do it.
“I found Anne St. Clair’s tomb. Who I was the last time I remember flying. I found my wings. And as soon as I had them, it wasn’t just…snippets. Infuriating fragments anymore. At least for that little pitstop on this…journey of ours.”
Straightening, I remove my fingers from his strong shoulder but only to shrug out of the thin cotton jacket I was wearing. It’s still too warm in St. Roch for anything else. Especially compared to the weather in England. Turning, and pulling red hair to the side, I expose the metal. An almost alien arrangement of glinting, glittering design that’s visible in part under the straps of the tank top I’m wearing. If it weren’t for the shine they could almost be a set of tattoos, except closer inspection shows that they’re raised ever so slightly.
“I picked up the amulet I found there. Put it on, and it… attached is the word I suppose. It was like this when I woke up. And I could remember so much more. I think we have to. Like you said. I don’t think we’ ve got any other option if we want things to be different this time.”
Even…if that means a little robbery.
Carter: When she exposes the back of her neck and along her back.
“Interesting.” saying as he slides his fingers along her slightly bared skin. “This never happened before, has it?” pulling his hand back, he presses his lips together. “I wonder if the same thing is going to happen when I get the shield.” questioning, more to himself to the both of them. Slowly, he sits back down and navigates to a site to buy their plane tickets. “I can reach out to the Cairo Museum if you want to ship anything to them that we may not be able to take on the plane.” such as weapons and equipment to break into Mr. Knox’s home, along with luggage. It wasn’t the first time they’d done this, and most certainly not the last.
“Mr. Knox’s place of residence is on the Nile near Luxor.” turning in his seat, he leans back to look up at her. It was like a piece of his soul had come back, perhaps tonight he would sleep well. Slowly coming up to a stand, he snakes his hand up the back of her neck and through her hair. “I’ve missed you.” whispering softly as he presses a kiss to her, then pulls her in, wrapping his other hand around her waist. “Please don’t ever leave me.” the confession is honest, and only for her.
The house they stayed in belonged to one of their past lives. But it wasn’t something that belonged inside them. It wasn’t a piece of equipment that started this cycle. Maybe with the armor now infusing into them, they can fight back against the very resurrection cycle that they have been in for so many centuries. Always losing each other, and then finding each other again. It wasn’t impossible to think they wanted to settle down, have children and have .. well, a ‘normal’ life.
“I will have the Stonechant set up everything else. I think we may be able to get a flight out tomorrow, or early the next day.”
Shiera; The touch of fingers along my skin raises goosebumps, despite the warmth in the room, and I smother the soft laugh quickly. It’s not really a funny moment, my unconscious reaction was though. At least to me. Releasing my hair to slide into place again over my back and shoulders, I turn around to face Carter once more, arms folding across my chest, painted nails tapping away absently on opposite forearm as I consider what he’s asked, compared to what I know. And maybe more importantly what I don’t know.
“It was when I was Anne. It’s like the metal, the wings, changed themselves to protect her, or hide her better. Hide themselves maybe.”
A notion that’s both… really intriguing and more than a little alarming when I start to really think about it. It’s not a thought I share with Carter, despite his plea to know my mind minutes ago. If the metal could change its form, and its purpose, if it really is trapping and tearing away at the parts of our soul that made us up before, and should be ours to remember again now… what if the metal is just as much Curse as it can be Blessing? What if it was never Hath-Set’s wicked magic that set us on this course, but our relation to the metal itself?
Pulled in to Carter, the sigh I let out is quiet regret, and an admission of the ache that had been living in my chest, and skull, the last two months. Maybe its relief. After the kiss, I lower my face, pressing it into his chest and letting my weight settle there against him.
“I missed you. And I will do my best not to.”
Because it happens. Every time. Except it’s not voluntarily getting up and removing ourselves, it’s awful and traumatic, and the part of all of those lives of mine that I remember more vividly than any other portion. The blood. The death. Over and over as the curse loops us through time and ages.
“The earlier the better. I don’t want to let this thread go now that we’ve maybe actually got it.”
Carter: There was a bit of excitement and dread coming. But, they were going to do their best to make this their last cycle. To end it once and for all. Every minute they spend together is sacred, every second apart is like an eternity. Carter would always miss Shiera, or whatever her name happened to be this time. Kissing the top of her head, he keeps her close to his heart. Not wanting to ever let her go.
Because letting go may be the last time he would see her.
Carter would take her upstairs to the bedroom they shared. The air in the room itself was stale, as if it hadn’t been used much in the last couple months. But, it all didn’t matter now that she was here to share his bed with him. The love they shared between each other was eternal, and what was shared beneath their sheets was even more soul baring that most couples experienced. There could be several theories if they ever spoke to anyone about it. Mostly though, it was they never knew when it would be the last time they held each other in such an intimate embrace.
The next morning would come, Carter would be the first up. Getting things ready for them to go to Cairo first. The trip the Luxor would be long, they could take a plane. But, the trip by car was much easier and allowed them to plot out their robbery. It wasn’t going to be as easy as smashing in a window or sneaking into a tomb. Being apart from one another for the last two months made it easier to slide back into both of their respective roles.
When she began to stir, he’d smile over his shoulder before getting back to packing up his suitcase. “I’ve already called the museum. We have a flight this afternoon. From New Orleans to London, then London to Cairo. From Cairo we drive to Luxor. It’ll give us a chance to reconnect with our homeland.” offering as he turns to lean against the dresser, watching her. “I think it’ll take a few days, not to mention recover from jet lag. By the time we hit the man’s house. We’ll be ready to go in without a problem.”
Shiera: A real ending. It’s a terrifying prospect, as much as it’s one that we both want. Have wanted forever. It all hinges on the method, doesn’t it? If this is it, if this is our last time together. Or maybe the second to last. And we get to finish it as two people who love each other ought to? Together, growing old with one another. Building a legacy that’s not just the same events spun out again and again with different names and faces on them. There’s also every possibility that this time might end the same way it always does. With watching one another die, having that hole ripped open inside of you. Maybe even worse… if one of us were to be killed and not the other. With the knowledge that this time, your other half is really never, ever coming back. No more second chances. No more trying again. Those thoughts make me shiver again, but this time it’s not from a tickling touch. It’s fear.
I think it’s only Carter’s presence that keeps those thoughts from turning into the nightmares I’ve been contending with every night since I left. Horrific memories, mixed with a dreadfully vivid imagination of what might be in store for us. And once I’m asleep it’s dreamless. Blissfully blank and empty. It makes it hard to want to wake, because it feels like leaving peace for an unknown. At least opening my eyes gives me a nice view. At least once I emerge from the burrow of my pillows, shading my eyes from the light with my arm.
“If any of it is really the same as it used to be. It’s been… a very, very long time. Coming back the same way, I assume? If we have to ship anything, I’m asusming it will be under a lot more scrutiny than what we’ll deal with going in.”
And we’ll be criminals.
Carter: “The Museum is handling the shipping. We’ll need to give them our things. But, other than that, shipping Museum to Museum is pretty easy, actually.” a shrug “They deal with all the red tape. All we need to do is be on hand when the shipment arrives in Cairo. Should be there about a few hours before we arrive.” moving over to the bed, he sits on her side and leans down to kiss her softly.
“Mmm, we’ve got time if you want to make up for lost time..” grinning down at her, his hand gently sliding along her forearm as he leans in for a kiss. The two Hawks were very passionate, it rang in how they handled each other, how they spoke to one another. There was no other person in the world for them, except for each other.
A few hours later, they’d get ‘caught up’ on lost time as Carter slides out of bed to finish his packing and to get dressed. The next few days would be a whirlwind. From packing, to shipping their things with the tools they needed to break into a house. Arriving in London, leaving London, arriving in Cairo. Getting their things, then driving down to Luxor. They flew across several time zones, and then took an even longer trip down to Luxor.
By the time they arrive into Luxor, it’d be well into the night, approaching early morning. The town was quiet, and the ruins off in the distance gave a kind of eerie presence to the area.
“I forgot how beautiful the sand can be at night.” offering as he glanced to Shiera. She had fallen asleep some time ago on the long drive, not that he could blame her. It’d been a long couple days and sleeping on a plan was not very comfortable in the least.
by Michele | Oct 19, 2017 | Chronicles
ST: Now it’s time to Run.
Wally West has never been more right in his entire young life. It’s time to run. The moment that ‘it’ happened, he was on the run. Whether he knew it or not. The Speed Force isn’t just any form of energy, it has the potential to alter time and space. It has been known, in the past, to be the flow that turns the tide. The United States created Project N.O.W.H.E.R.E to monitor ‘potential.’ At first it was simply potential threats, but eventually it simply became potential. Potential Threat that they could deal with or Raw Potential that they could utilize. Then Lex Luthor became President and the word Potential was once more redefined.
More aptly. Potential Threat was redefined. Rewritten. No one denies that this world has been turned upon it’s head. Bruce Wayne, dead. Clark Kent is gone. Arthur Curry deposed. Hal Jordan disgraced. Lex Luthor lauded as the greatest hero in the world, that the world has ever known. While President Luthor monitors all threats to his life and legacy, there is but one threat he cannot ‘forsee’ because it has already happened. Changing the Past is the greatest threat to Lex Luthor, to N.O.W.H.E.R.E. and the world they’ve created.
He doesn’t even know it, but the moment that Wally West started to run? He could never again stop.
—
His name is Percival Change, but his friends call him well.. nothing, because he doesn’t really have any friends. Mostly he’s called Agent Grunge. Today he has shown up at the Central City Police Department with all the credentials needed cut through the red tape in getting a tour of the Precinct of the Crime Lab. It’s during this tour that Percival is able to stage a meeting with one Wally West. Central City’s ‘best and brightest’ in the field. They Police Chief sends Wally up to the Roof for a ‘Photo Op’ with the DC Guy, while mournfully hoping they don’t lose Wally to that big Task Force….
“Mr. West. It’s a pleasure to meet you, we’ve been looking for a guy just like you for our team….”
Just as he reaches for Wally’s hand, the most incredible thing happens. A batarang from out of nowhere (pun intended) sinks about three inches deep in to Agent Grunge’s hand. Don’t ask how or why the Batman is there. Focus instead on the Woman above him. She’s the scary one.
Cassie: Scary. Honestly. Up until a a few months ago I don’t believe that’s a word that’s ever been used to refer to me. The people that knew I had powers certainly weren’t afraid of me, but then one of them is my Mother, the other’s probably my best friend, and the third and original? The only person that I know that actually outclasses me, and has a moral code or lack thereof that actually does make him scary. Scary also isn’t a word you would normally apply to someone that let out the entirely undignified squeak that I did about fifteen minutes ago on board a private jet when I found myself faced quite suddenly with a looming Batman over my shoulder.
Scary might have been the point where I nearly punched the looming Batman through the side of the jet, but I’d managed to rein that impulse in. It’s not a good idea to interrupt any girl’s watching Pretty Little Liars, let alone to sneak up on her like that. Especially when she’s Wonder Woman. Tempted as I had been to fly myself the rest of the way (and get there faster), I had to change still. Suiting up into the spangly red, with bits of armored gold that right now I suppose might look pretty menacing. No one wants to have a woman glaring down her nose at them with hands on hips. Especially not one who’s hovering in midair and apparently brought Batman with her.
“I would not touch him, Mr. West. Agent Grunge here was about to make you an offer you wouldn’t have the opportunity to refuse.”
Wally: When the batarang seemed to come out of nowhere and strike the hand of one Agent Grunge, it was like time stopped. Wally could see everything. But it was just for an instant. So, when the batarang finally struck and sank into the hand of Agent Grunge, Wally was already on the move. Becoming nothing but a blur of lightning. That lightning would go down the stairs, come back up, circle the Agent a few times before coming to a skidding stop. In that short few seconds, Grunge would be tied up with tactical assault rope and hands cuffed.
Though, now his clothes were slightly singed and smoking. His favorite pair of shoes now much less whole than they were. Turning to face Batman, then to Wonder Woman, he backs up a moment. “What’s going on?” Wally asked, lightning dancing out of his eyes as he stood his ground. “Don’t you two have like, world saving things to do?” Wally was fast. And had the potential to be faster. But, right now. Two costumes just stopped a dude in a suit who was supposedly about this new task force.
The problem with Wally at the moment is that he’s still learning to control his speed. More often than not putting everything into full speed rather than slowing down and learning. It’s caused quite a few spectacular high speed crashes. Wally joined the CCPD to make a difference, to see if he could figure out who drove Barry into the speed force, and control the information that goes out into the public about Flash.
ST: I’ve seen a Superman fight. I’ve seen the Woman above me throw down in full ultra high definition. I’ve read the notes. I’ve studied the files of my ‘Father.’ Not one of those things prepares me for what I am witnessing. Or rather, the complete lack of what I’m witnessing. Wally West is fast, I knew that coming in. Fast is an understatement. Only the fact that I’m wearing a Wayne Tech enhanced suit allows me to track the after-image of the Flash as he momentarily disappears, only to re-emerge with the trappings needed to secure Grunge.
“We are saving the world. Right now. Agent Grunge works for a secret government agency that catalogs Meta-Human abilities. He’s here to collect your’s. Or collect you. Either way.”
Wonder Woman was completely correct. It was going to be an opportunity that Wally wouldn’t be able to refuse. One way or the other. A fact which begins to become utterly clear as the Agent chuckles over the histrionics. He doesn’t even have the humility of letting the tactical rope hold him. One of his arms begins to shift, to change… literally becoming tactical rope itself. The other arm begins to shift as well, becoming even more dense and bladed. Akin to the metal of the handcuffs, which snap only seconds later.
It only takes the detective in me a glance to know what’s going on from the files. “He can bond with any element he touches. When he does he picks up all of the properties of it.”
But neither the Flash or Wonder Woman need me to tell them that at this point. Not when they can see the guy morphing in to a mish-mash of Tactical Rope and Titanium Alloy. Wally is fast, but what even I’m not seeing? Is the fact that the Grunge is also bonding to the roof. As he does so, he controls it while he’s in contact. Sending it up at Wally’s feet in an effort to slow him down.
Sorry, Kid. Nothing personal. You probably don’t even know how dangerous you are.
Cassie: Holymoley. ‘Batman’ over there is fast. For a normal person. That’s not meant to be condescending but as much of an exemplar of human capabilities as my friend is, he’s that. A normal human. I’m fast, and getting faster as I push and test my limits. Comparing me to to Superman, or to Freddy Freeman is about like comparing myself and my caped friend here in a footrace. They’re super fast. Then there’s what I just witnessed, or partially witnessed. More like didn’t witness. Wally West is like if you take all the degrees of the rest of us, multiply that together and then square it. It’s incredible. Not just the obvious effects on his clothing. It’s like the world around me skipped a beat, and something wasn’t, and then was, in short order.
The Speedster’s question gets a short, almost amused snort of laughter out of me, and Batman answers with what I was about to say while I’m doing so. We are saving the world. I already believed that I was, and that coming out here and talking to this guy would be important to do so. Now? Yikes. As much as I still try to not have some sort of agenda that I’m corralling people into, because I’m not NOWHERE. This is and should be about free will., but… I cannot let them get their hands on him. They get to Wally, convince him, turn him, coerce him or force him? Use this power in some way? No one else is going to have a prayer. No matter how hard I fight.
So I just get to look all… I don’t know. Regal. And incline my head in agreement with Gotham’s hero. An expression which turns into concern as I watch what Grunge is doing. Well. That’s…great. And getting greater by the second as the very roof under us (well, under them) starts to shift and alter. So, a fight it’s going to be. I’m sensing a building trend here.
“Move!”
Punching titanium, even if it is lower density than a lot of things, may not be the best idea. Neither do I want to batter up and hit him with anything else he can absorb (though I think he’s already probably gotten hold of about the worst thing he could up here). It takes no wind up for me to accelerate forward with a whipcrack of air behind me, driving my shoulder into the rope shifted arm, hopefully coming in at an awkward angle for him to take any sort of bladed swipe at me.
Wally: Wally watches with a look of amazement and horror as Grunge takes on the material of the cuffs and rope until he’s fully change. “Amazing!” saying as he speeds out of the way of his grasp. Fighting on a rooftop wasn’t really ideal. “Sorry. I suppose I shouldn’t gush how amazing the bad guy’s power is.” zooming away from Wonder Woman’s “Um. We should probably move this off the top of a roof! Pretty sure the whole CCPD isn’t going to be happy with us fighting a supervillain here.” explaining, as gestured.
“Don’t you have some kind of bat-bad guy-spray, or something?” asking as he looked to Batman while he watched Wonder Woman fight the big bad guy. “Argh!” getting fed up with at the speed this fight is going, Wally starts running circles around Grunge. Every pass Batman would see that his clothes were shredding, but something replaced them. A dark red costume would be seen, even if it’s just an after image. The roof isn’t designed for this kind of speed, and it was clear Wally hadn’t even reached his peak.
The air around Grunge started to shift, slow at first then building until Wonder Woman would start having problems flying against it. Almost like flight right into a headwind, or a tornado. First, rocks and little bits of debris start slowly lifting into the vortex, then parts of the actual concrete starts giving way and going into the vortex. All the while, Wally keeps running in circles, picking up speed.
“The roof is giving way!” shouting to his new allies “Supergirl I need you to move him to the new location! If you hit him at a ninety degree angle, your mass and speed should be enough to knock him into the abandoned building, where Batman can use his Bat powers to do … whatever it is he does!”
ST: Nothing at all stops Wonder Woman from doing exactly what she wants. Nothing. Because it’s exactly what Grunge was hoping for. One of the Heroes to actually come in close to duke it out. Wally gave him such a wonderful weapon to use against such a tactic. That winding tactical rope that works now like an extension of Grunge’s physical self. She lowers her shoulder. He accepts the impact. Grunts. But only part of him ‘gives.’ The part that is now more or less all tactical rope. It encircles and encompasses Wonder Woman.
Heh. I’ve been thinking ’bout all the fun we could have with you tied up for a couple years now. Tell ya what, you stay right there and we’ll play when I’m through talkin to Officer West here.
Whether he’s sporting the Cape and Cowl of Batman or the facemask of Red Robin, he’s no idiot. Putting himself right in to the fray is a quick way to end up dead. So he’s up, quick, on to the air conditioning unit for the building. Covering his movements with that long, flowing cape. It may be perfectly day light, but it affords it’s own concealment. Allowing him to dig in to his veritable bag of tricks.
The Flash is making more than one really good point. Not only is it probably bad to be fighting up on the roof of CCPD, but there’s also the question of what Grunge’s machinations are doing to the structural integrity of the entire roof as he uses it against the Heroes. Well. Less heroes plural and more, just the Flash himself. Neither the Batman -or- Grunge actually realized just how fast Wally is though. Turning the roof in to a tar-pit doesn’t do much. When the guy can run to fast to sink in to it.
To Wally’s credit? Batman isn’t arguing with the plan of action. His only addition to the action? Is the small pellet that he throws out when Flash begins to move. Only this isn’t a smoke bomb for Batman to ninja-vanish with. It’s liquid nitrogen. Which instantly reacts to the fluidity of the roof to temporarily render it frozen at the point where Grunge is in contact with the roof. With Wally’s efforts and Grunge’s connection to the roof brittle… if Wonder Woman actually does what the Flash suggests, it just might work.
Cassie: “If you can talk and fight at the same time, then by all means. Gush away.”
I have a feeling as fast as he’s moving he can do both, and play a game of chess the next state over, stop for a snack and do a few other things that strike his fancy in between. He’s also not wrong about the location of the fight. The rooftop isn’t great. Anywhere with a population or bystanders to get crushed in the fallout is definitely less than ideal, injuring officers looks even worse for the ‘good’ guys. I’m not exactly here to prove NOWHERE right for their tactics, or aims. Quite the opposite.
There’s no satisfying thud, no collision that moves him though in part I expected that, connected to the rooftop as he seems to be.
“As much as I’d love to hang around and beat those inappropriate fantasies out of you again later…”
Eugh. Really. Any other situation and I would probably have been already shuddering in disgust. Somehow I don’t even entirely doubt that it’s something he’s conjured up to throw me in the moment. I have been a known entity that’s equally off limits almost since the moment my powers turned on. But only because it worked for them. Timothy Drake can handle himself, human or not, and Wally has clearly not been actually bogged down by Grunge’s efforts.
“Wonder Woman.”
The gritted teeth is more for what I’m dealing with than Wally getting my name wrong. But really. Supergirl was something I specifically avoided. Sidekick connotations, or even some sort of familiar connection to the Superman something I’d been trying to not call up. Restricted or not, it doesn’t actually stop me from flight, which means that I can still maneuver just with a tether. The pellet, the shouted plan, it all sounds like it’s got a reasonably good chance for success to me. The frozen and brittle structure of the connection, the amount of force I can generate. Whether it counts as shouldering him again, or just going airborn is debatable. Either way I’m moving and taking Grunge along with me, angling for what will probably not be the most graceful of landings on the abandoned structure. Possibly into it.
Wally: When Wonder Woman shoulders into Grunge and goes with him, Wally skids to a stop ontop of the roof as he looks down and sighs. “The Chief is going to kill me!” shaking his head, he turns to Batman. “Sup-er, Wonder Woman can handle Agent Grunge for a minute. You have some explaining to do.” pointing a scarlet clad finger at the man dressed in a bat outfit. “What the HELL is going on?!” asking as he starts zooming around the roof doing his best to put things back where they are while continuing the conversation with Batman.
“Can you super people schedule appointments like regular people?! I’ve got a Meta i’m dealing with here who can infect computers with his brain.” explaining as he continues zooming about the roof. The conversation taking all but a couple minutes. “Alright. Time to go! I’ll fix this later. If I can. I think.” zooming over to Batman, he picks him up with ease and then travels over the side of the building. But they don’t fall, they stay stuck to the roof as he hauls down the roof and onto the street. Paper and garbage whipping behind them, Car Alarms going off as they run past them.
Batman wouldn’t feel anything, except being carried. The world around him would seem like a blur. Just streaks of colors as they arrive at the block in just under a minute. Running into the building, he’s able to open the door, go through it and close it behind them. Seeing a giant hole in the ground, he skids to a stop, smoke coming up from under his feet. Putting Batman down he lifts a brow.
“Wait, This isn’t that weird group that keeps trying to tag me, is it?” asking, curious.
ST: Crouched there on the air conditioning unit, ‘Batman’ listens to the Flash as he holds most of a conversation with himself in the speed with which he’s talking. Good thing the two ‘supers’ came here prepared because otherwise this would be a whirlwind in more ways than one. As it stands the truth is, Tim Drake was prepared for Fast, but this is actually ridiculous. The man’s living in the span of a rabbit’s heart beat, if it was even possible to keep up with him what would even be the point?
“Cliff Notes: Grunge works for a government sanctioned group that ‘tags’ people with extraordinary powers. Those they deem to be a risk to society are dealt with. Those they deem safe are either recruited or monitored.”
Keeping it short and sweet is the only real way to give the guy any sort of information. Trying to give a more complete explanation right now would require him to slow down to a crawl, by his standards. Which is not the goal of this endeavor. Batman doesn’t want the Flash to slow down, he wants him to speed up. So that he won’t get caught. The problem is. How do you explain that in as quickly a manner as possible? You don’t. Not when ‘as quick as possible’ is still a snails pace for this guy.
Could Batman stop himself from being absconded with? There’s a good chance we’ll never know because he actually doesn’t even try. That’s far less important than explaining two other small points. “…. technically… Grunge is not a Super Villain. We. You, Wonder Woman and I, are the ones breaking the law here. And. For the record. She can handle almost anything. But. She can’t handle him.”
All that Batman hopes is that Wally got all that while he was being carried over to the abandoned building. The sheer vertigo of spacial displacement? Results in a very. Very. Un-Batmanly reaction. He’ll rejoin the fray a few moments later, when he’s done barfing and thanking the Ancient Greek Gods that Damien isn’t here to see -that-.
Why can’t Wonder Woman handle Grunge? It’s actually real simple. You see she let him keep hold of her. Tactical rope and titanium hadn’t done a whole lot of good. But that Golden Armor all over her? Well. Part of him is touching that. It’s all wrapped around her. She’s using it as a tether to pull him along. On to, even in to the building. Good plan. Civilians are safe. Cops are safe. Wonder Woman, is not safe. At one point she’s slamming him through walls, duracrete, steel beams, concrete slabs.
Then. Her tether tenses. Well. Actually it changes, getting more dense. Stronger. Heavier. Until he’s more anchor than passenger and her momentum forward is all too suddenly turned against her. Tether becoming fishing hook. With Grunge as the one at the end of the line who pulls her back. She’s been bit before. Bruised. Punched with Brute Force of a Superman. This is different. This is ancient warriors metal, that has helped her blunt those blows before being turned against her. Pulling her in. Releasing her…. just as she’s punched with every ounce of force mustered by the density strength of her own armor. Like lobbing a softball up to hit it with a bat.
Don’t worry, Wonderbabe, we’ll talk about those fantasies later. You ain’t who I’m here for.
Cassie: It’s impossible to keep a firm handle on what everyone else is doing here. Teamwork is something I’ve been trying to work on, but the truth is I don’t have an awful lot of field experience despite my title and public status. My resume is getting better, and I’m still training with Conner but that’s working with someone with similar, just stronger abilities than mine and a few extra on top. Wally’s far faster than me, reaction time better, and Tim’s loaded for bear with all the Batman things that make him a veritable toolbox for any and every situation. I’ve got brute, blunt force, and the ability to take a hit a whole lot better than either of them is going to. Which is important given the state of our opponent just now.
Which just got worse. Blue eyes widen as I get hauled back in towards Agent Grunge, and then sent sailing. Not just sailing. That simplifies things and makes them sound a lot less painful than what actually just happened. Taste of my own medicine I guess you’d call it, and it sends me careening through the parts of the building I hadn’t already crashed through with a ‘oooomph’ of air getting knocked out of me. Tumbling and bouncing end over end until I collect myself enough to do something about it. At the speed I’m going? That’s a fair distance, honestly, and I right myself with another whipcrack of speed and sound up into the sky.
Saying that smarted was an understatement, but adrenaline blunts it to a degree. It’s definitely not enough to stop me from flying back into the fray again. Fine. You want to use my gear against me? Two can play that game. Only one of us can play it a whole lot better than the other.
In theory anyway. NOWHERE had made that weapon in the first place. They had all kinds of theories about what it could be used to do. None of which seemed to actually have been workable for them. I’m assuming because they were lacking one important part of the equation. Divinity, or the blessings of it. I’m like a Grunge seeking missile on the way back in. A touch of my hand all it takes to uncoil my own ‘taser wire’ as Conner had called it. It’s more backup than main plan. Just in case Grunge shifts into something besides the sparkling material that had originally made up the legendary Golden Fleece.
I aim my anger and frustration crackling through it, into him but that’s more distraction in the sparks. I don’t think it’s going to actually hurt him. Not when he’s apparently made up of it. I’m not actually trying to electrocute so much as control.
“Stop. Now.”
Wally: Things were going from bad to worse as Wally see’s Wonder Woman just completely clocked by Grunge and sent sailing. But, then she’s back and with some kind of electrical rope. Wally didn’t believe much in religion, in gods or what have you. He was a man of science, like his Uncle Barry. Science was what made this world go round. It’s what gave Barry his powers and access to the enigmatic speed force.
Wally’s running around making sure the entire building doesn’t just collapse under all of them. He could probably get most of them out, but that wasn’t the point of this. The point is to put Grunge down. “Hold him! I think I have an idea!” yelling out before running out of the building in an instant. Wally isn’t running away, he’s reading an attack. Something he’s only used a few times to beat enemies that normal hitting methods didn’t work. Running out of the city, he circles around and charges back towards the building. There’d be a loud crash as he breaks the sound barrier.
All of Tim’s readings on Wally would start sky rocketing as he continues gaining speed. You see, Newton came up with a series of laws that’s used to govern physics. And so far? Newton hasn’t been wrong at all.
‘The net force on an object is equal to the mass of the object multiplied by the acceleration of the object.’
What does that mean in laymans terms? When Wally runs back into the abandoned building, It means when Wally punches Agent Grunge. He’s packing enough force behind the punch that it’s on equivalent of Superman’s (not Conner) punch completely letting go and not holding back. The actual science behind it is amazing…but right now, that’s not the point of all this. The point is to knock Grunge out before getting stronger. Wally wasn’t sure all what he could absorb. But, he was pretty sure pure force wasn’t going to be something he can absorb.
ST: What’s a matter baby, you need a safe word?
Grunge isn’t just a Meta-Human. He’s a prime. One of the few that are considered equally useful, destructive and unstoppable. Not to mention trained to fight. Taught for decades to use his powers in combat. One on one he’d take any of the three. Maybe even if this was the real Batman. In his mind there’s no question. This is something that sets him apart. On the surface his actions are those of a ‘Super-Villain’, but what puts him even further in to a unique space? He doesn’t think that. He’s not out for World Domination. He’s not motivated by Greed. There’s no thirst for Vengeance or desperate Need for overcoming his opposition.
Put simply? Grunge thinks he’s the Hero. He believes that he’s the one doing the Good Work. Saving the world from people just like these three. He’s willing to fight. Even die for his belief. If his unique power set and augmentation didn’t set him above the normal bar, then his beliefs would. He’s willing to put Cassie down to save the world from the Speed Demon and he’s winding up to do just that… when the most peculiar thing happens. He stops. Stops cold in fact. The moment that her taser line makes contact with him.
‘Wonder Woman’ made a bold gamble, but it pays off. Grunge is by far stronger and more durable than most anything in the world right now. This fight was about to go a very bad way. If only he had known, that he was absorbing the strongest material on the planet. Which obeys the will of the Gods. In the absence of a full-blooded one, it would seem that Cassie’s got the divine spirit enough to make him pause. In any other time, any other place, that might not be enough to stop her from being yanked in again and punched out of the state.
But. This time she’s working with someone that just wound up like Babe Ruth and called his shot from the opposite side of Central City. Grunge’s jaw almost swivels off of his face from the unmitigated force of the blow. So much in fact, is the impact, that only Cassie’s command to ‘Stop’ keeps Grunge from sailing in to the air himself.
… and perhaps for the first time in Wally’s life. He’s going to find out how quickly his body can repair shattered bone. Because his knuckles just collided with a mystical metal that had been commanded to a full stop. Agent Grunge is down. Down and out. Left laying. His unconscious form reverting to it’s human state. Just in time for the three darts to hit his bare chest.
“Well done, you two. With Grunge off-line they’ll send a retrieval team. We cannot be here when they arrive and you both need medical attention.” Where -was- the Batman during all of this. Wally brought him along, but he seemed to take little or no part in the entire battle. “Mr. West, we’re here to help you but you’re under no obligation to come with us. If you do I can get your arm treated and she can give you answers.”
“Either way. You’ve got to make a choice quickly. Because the people who come after Grunge? We’re not ready for. Yet.”
Cassie: “Nope, and I’m not giving you one.”
I don’t know if I’m amazed that it actually worked, or if I find the situation just a little bit funny altogether. I mean, it would be comical to the audience if this was a movie. Big bad cocky bad guy, who’s only the bad guy because we, the protagonists of this little hypothetical movie, are acting in opposition to him. Not only is he being a Grade A pain in the butt, he’s sexually harassing our heroine. In a way that I don’t doubt would be followed through given opportunity. But things that had been passed off as myths before clearly actually are more than that. At least where I’m concerned. He tries to move, only his body which is currently made up of Fleece, as well as wrapped in it, obeys me. Not him. It’s likely a very good thing that I’ve got only the best of motivations or that might be a highly dangerous toy to play with. As it is, I think it’s not something that ought to be highly publicized with the other things roaming the world right now or threatening to. It may not only be me that can wield it.
In a way, it all works even better than I might have hoped. Grunge is stopped, and out of literally nowhere comes Wally. I maybe get an instant more warning than Grunge does, and after that? Grunge isn’t seeing stars even, I don’t think he had a chance. He’s just a dead weight crumpling heap in the same instant that I’m cringing from the sound of breaking bones that makes me suck in air.
Oh. There’s Tim. Tranqs I assume, to make sure he stays down now that he’s there. Before Batman even has a chance to issue his warning though, my brain was processing the ‘we need to get the heck out of here asap’ instinct. Because this just isn’t going to fly for any number of reasons. NOWHERE doesn’t like being thwarted, they just haven’t had enough experience with it to get USED to the feeling. I, and Batman, have also just acted in direct and public opposition to one of their agents. I’m not sure how much success my goodwill is going get me in spinning this. There’s a look of concern on my face as I step over Grunge’s form towards Wally, but also urgency.
“This isn’t something either one of us wanted to force you to decide on quickly, but then Grunge beat us here. And he’s right. We’re not ready.”
I actually have a red and rapidly swelling eye, something that the image alteration built into my costume doesn’t actually hide. Not that I’m looking at my reflection to realize it. I just know I’m only really seeing well out of one side of my vision just now. Secondary and really minor concern in the grand scheme of things. I’m also aware of how ominous it probably makes a situation sound to say that Wonder Woman and Batman are ready to get the heck out of dodge because this is bigger than them.
Wally: Bones shatter like glass dropping on the ground. Wally’s never felt it before and happens so that not even his nerves have time to register the pain. Or, if it did, it was so that that even he couldn’t keep up with it. “I can feel the bones coming back into place already.” saying as he zipped around the abandoned building, making a makeshift splint and sling. It’d do, his bones will heal in a few hours. Or, at least, that’s his theory. Most of what he’s doing is based on the laws of physics. No matter how absurd they seem.
But, Wally listens to Tim and gives a nod.
“I’m in. Though, first. I’ve got my own problems to deal with. There’s a man terrorizing the city with some kind of tech based power. He’s able to override and control it. Like, a sort of technopathy.” looking at Grunge for a moment, then back to Batman. “I’m the only thing this city has that can stop him. Help me, and i’ll help you two.” offering a trade. “I can’t let him continue to terrorize my city. Your Batman. I’m sure you have a gadget, or a theory of how to do this.” explaining. Normally, Wally would start nerding out. But, at the moment, he couldn’t go with them.
“If you can find him. I can take him out, or Wonder Woman here.” thumbing over to Cassie. “His name is Kilgore. Take him out, and he’ll be locked away in Iron Heights for the rest of his life.” Kilgore had a vendetta against the city, they hired him to make their infrastructure, but canned him before the project could be finished. And then, he got super powers. “He’s already killed at least two people, and more if we continue, or rather, I, continue to do nothing.”
ST: It must seem like an eternity. The time spent with me looking from Grunge to Wonder Woman and then back finally to the Flash. I always feel about ten steps ahead of everyone else, so I can’t imagine how it feels to actually -be- ten steps ahead of everyone else. The literal physics verses the metaphysical psychology of it taxes my understanding of how the world works. Once more I’m struck by how Bruce prepared me for this moment by introducing me to the world of Meta-Humans by having me meet them outside of their costumes first. That is really the only thing that humanizes them for me as I’m struck once again by how very not-human each new one seems.
“Localized electro-magnetic pulse, in tandem with a synaptic inhibitor,” he’s right, I do know how to handle the power assortment that he’s describing. “I have the components in with me, but you’ve got the order of priority here backwards… we need to go… or you won’t be around to use the tech against Kilgore.”
A finger points in to the direction of the sedated Grunge, to keep Wally focused upon what is actually important here and now. “I won’t hide while innocents are hurt, we’ll help you. But. None of us are going to be here to help anyone if we’re here when Superboy and his team arrive.”
The Flash and Wonder Woman can continue having their discussion if they want, but those are the last words I’m going to speak until I’m out of this building and safely inside the lead-lined Jet, with a cloak. Their last sight of me will be the swish of black cape before I disappear in to the shadows, in order to make my way to a roof where the Invisible Jet can swoop in to pick me up. When we started this endeavor, I knew Cassie could fly but the rest of us? We need a mobile manner of staying off the grid. I also needed a way to keep it off the corporate radar, so I put it in the only name I could think of that has absolutely no sane reason to such a thing.
Cassandra Sandsmark, the Wonder Woman. Owns an invisible Jet.
Cassie: We already knew he’d been out protecting his city. That’s also how NOWHERE knew to come looking, after a sufficient number of blips on their radar. That’s exactly the kind of person that I want to help, too. I mean. That’s kind of the entire point in what I’m doing. Well. The ultimate point. The more immediate one has a lot more to do with why Batman and I want to get this show on the road as quickly as possible, especially with how this has just played out. I know how fast I could have gotten here from Metropolis. Which means I also know exactly how quickly the ‘Advance Guard’ could show up. Wally’s incredibly fast, but you have to know something’s coming to avoid it.
I hadn’t really come here intending to ask for his help, just to make sure Wally West was aware of and protected from NOWHERE. As much as he could be. But since ultimately I would have asked for that help? I’ll take it. I would want to help even without that but now? Just is not the time.
“We will help you.”
Even if it’s just a gadget that Batman’s able to lend or deploy, and me playing the muscle but I’d rather let Wally do the legwork himself. Not because I don’t want to go to the effort but. It’s his city. His people to protect. I’m not trying to be the biggest kid in the sandbox stepping on people’s toes. A flick of a finger points at the cowled man beside me as he supplies the ‘how’ to solve the Flash’s current problem.
“I can’t beat… Superboy.” Yeah, sure we’ll keep that old distinction to separate him from Superman. As if they’re different people entirely, and not admitting openly that Superman is ‘on the payroll’ so to speak. “And it won’t just be Superboy after that. We probably won’t even get to make the attempt before we’re dealt with.”
Yup. As ominous as it sounds. If I weren’t trying to impress the seriousness of the situation on him, I’d probably try to lighten it a little by mimicking a sound and gesture that Tim had made to me once, what feels like a very, very long time ago but was really only just a couple months ago. Fwaaaaaaaash. The sound effect that goes with Conner’s eye lasers.
“Only until they’ve finished sweeping the area and left. Then we can take care of this Kilgore. If we do it now? It’s only that much more likely he’s just going to get added to NOWHERE’s roster to be used against you. And in the meantime, we can make a plan and answer any questions.”
A fact that will probably happen regardless but we can only hope on the timing. Feet leaving the floor, I start to extend a hand to him, only to switch which one to the side of my field of view that hasn’t just finished swelling shut. Great. That’ll be fun to try and explain at school in the morning. Rogue cheerleader’s high kick maybe. Offering him a proverbial ‘lift’ to safety.
Wally: There’s a pause as he considers it.
“Deal.” saying as he listened to the pair.
Wally had already considered all the options, and with the seriousness of what they said? It was probably a good idea to vamoose while ahead. “We’re just leaving him?” asking as he looks over at Grunge. “Maybe once he realizes that he’s working for the bad guys, he’ll turn around.” saying, though he follows the rest up to the top of the abandoned building where… there is nothing.
While Wally didn’t like hiding, it sounded like that was the best option for now. “I expect details.” saying when he looked to Wonder Woman, who was housing a nice looking black eye. “Alright. Let’s go. So long as we stop Kilgore soon. I can wait.” it wasn’t something he *wanted* to do. There was a lot to think about right now, this new organization, Superboy, it was just so much.
“What’s on the agenda next? Just sit and wait with our thumbs twiddling?” asking, lifting a brow. Whatever it was, he knew it wasn’t much of a choice. But it was the right choice to make.
ST: The ‘Invisible Jet’ is actually just what it sounds like. A personal jet, built for luxury. One of the Wayne Corp type with the sleek wing style, forward cabin type. Seating for six in the mid-cabin. With a small facility that was once a bar, that is now outfitted for medical care. Then a bunk-room, which was formerly the ‘Captain’s Cabin.’ Aka the rich owner’s bed room. It’s still a bedroom, but where it was opulent before it is now a little more utilitarian. There are all the comforts of home or rather a small mobile base, without the lavish extravagance. Unless you count the equipment. Like the light refracting system that effectively renders the plane invisible. The lead lined alloy keeps it not just off the radar but out of the line of vision from prying eyes. Let’s not ask what function this was going to serve originally.
Once Wally has joined he’ll meet the Pilot. Because Alfred Pennyworth also doubles his pilot duty with field medic. Despite having the knowledge myself, I’m not even close to Alfred’s skill. “This is Penny-One. He’s part of the ‘team,’ so to speak. He knows more about … well, everything honestly, that all three of us combined.”
Really, sir. You needn’t really buoy my ego.
Draped behind that long cloak allows me to properly ‘loom’ while keeping out of Alfred’s way as he tends to first Wally’s arm, then Cassie’s eye. Though Alfred won’t force assistance upon either of them he has a certain way with the Wayne medical tools. He can at least assist the two of them with pain relief. In the mean time it gives me opportunity to put to work the brief ‘Power Point’ display on holographic displays for the Flash to listen to. He said he wanted information? That’s my half of this discussion.
“Agent Grunge, I use the term Agent lightly, is a member of a clandestine government agency that is employed and empowered by President Lex Luthor. Like I said before, they are lawfully charged with the duty of keeping track of Meta-Humans, Aliens and Extraordinary Technological Advancements. They were originally sanctioned shortly after World War II to catalog ‘Mystery Men.’ Over the intervening years their charter has expanded.”
“Following the Parallax Event, they were given the duty of protecting the planet from…” For the first time since meeting Wally there is actually a fractional hesitation, before I actually point at him and Cassie. “… people like you and her. This measure passed through the Congress and Senate, thanks to Luthor’s broad discretionary powers because the world believed that Heroes caused as much collateral damage as the Villains did intentional damage.”
“They’re indiscriminate Mr. West. They’re as likely to imprison you as someone like this Kilgor you spoke of. Simply because of the potential danger you pose. Even if you’ve never committed a crime yourself. What’s more is that they’ll go farther than imprisoning innocent people. As you’ve just seen yourself. People who manage to get themselves deemed a exceptionally potential threat are either recruited for their ranks, cataloged for further study and/or get …. retired.”
This is where I take the moment to gesture for Wally to look at one of the displays. I assume he can read the files I’m displaying there as quickly as he does everything else. Which means he’ll have the opportunity to read Bruce Wayne’s file on Barry Allen. The Fastest Man alive. Until the fallout from the Parallax Event, when Luthor feared Barry might do something stupid. Like go back in time to ‘fix things.’ Suddenly N.O.W.H.E.R.E. was given the green light to recruit or neutralize Barry Allen.
“The original Batman was resourceful. He had contacts and connections everywhere. One of them is inside of N.O.W.H.E.R.E. and has been secretly supplying me with information on their targets. That’s why we’re here Mr. West. To save your life and in doing so. I believe if Agent Grunge had actually managed to make contact with you? He would have been able to bond with the Speed Force itself. At which point, if you had declined their offer… you would have been expendable. Just like this man, Barry Allen.”
“There’s your information, you can look through the file and confirm that it’s the truth.” Pointing to Cassie, with what can only be described as a half-smirk. “Let me introduce you officially to … Wonder Woman. She just saved your life. It’s what she does.”
by Michele | Oct 11, 2017 | Chronicles
Stephanie: You know what? Eff these guys. Seriously. Eff the Black Canary. Eff Red Robin. Eff Arsenal and whoever else is skulking around the streets nowadays. Ordinarily I could probably have given you a pretty good running total of who’s active and who’s not. Not because I’ve got fancy gadgets or a Batcomputer (I guess technically my phone is a fancy gadget by like. 1990’s standards), but because I pay attention. Even if you don’t want to, it’s what people talk about. Who haven’t they talked about in a while? Not active. Maybe dead. But dead is usually something you hear about, too. The sheer number of vigilantes took a sharp uptick the last few months, but it wasn’t that hard to figure out why.
I’d figured I would blend in. What’s one more, when all the sudden there’s a Robin, Canary, Red Hood and all the rest around? Apparently it was working pretty well, too. Except when it came to the Batfam. They, of course, noticed. And I guess it answers my question of why there hadn’t been more vigilantes around before now. Before the Bat was gone. Before everything started going crazy in the least crazy way you could imagine for Gotham. It’s actually been downright peaceful. If you ignore the Joker’s murder rampage, but since those have all been directed at not so innocent people?
Maybe we’re a jaded lot, us Gothamites. Or maybe they’re just glad when it’s not them, in the way you can’t say out loud.
That’s not why I’m saying eff these Capes, though. That’s got a lot more to do with the fact that I’m in this weirdly awesome high tech hole of a hideout. I’m not out doing any good, though as I”ve been repeatedly told I wasn’t doing any good in the first place. Yeesh. Ouch. Right? My problem isn’t really even a problem, because it’s chump change compared to everything else that’s been going on. The lull. The murders. And the murder that’s on all their minds here.
1,1,2. 1,2,3. 1,2,3,2. 1,2,5,2. 1,6,3,2.
Well. I have one thing to say for all of this and the effing. I damn well know a whole lot of boxing combinations, now. I don’t even have to think about them as fists meet punching bag over and over. I may not have put up a cartoony doodle of Black Canary’s smug knowitall face on the bag, but I can sure imagine one. That might be a project for tomorrow.
Tim: There is any number of ways in which one can successfully make an entrance. Through a skylight, crashing down in to the middle of a group of thugs you wanted to take by surprise. Appearing out of the darkness, stepping in to the light just as someone rounds a corner. Zip-lining someone from below, then wrenching them in to the air so that they evacuate their… okay, maybe that one is more gross than impressive, but it certainly sets a tone. The point of any entrance is to make an impression. To put someone off-kilter in such a way as to inspire a certain emotion, a specific reaction, that utterly knocks them off balance. Giving you the advantage.
While I may not need such a thing with Stephanie, she is the perfect candidate to test the new suit out on. Because she is essentially an untrained, but slightly seasoned amateur wanting to make it big and go pro. She is representative of the majority. Those whom will see the suit and need no further convincing, so long as I don’t trip on my own cape. In addition, this also gives me the opportunity to test her own reactions. To see if she’s managed to grasp some of the lessons that Dinah has taught her. Maybe she’s even added them to my own lessons about what she can and can’t do with her own suit.
“Tell me about your Father,” comes the voice from directly behind her.
Not the constantly teasing voice of Tim Drake. Nor the high fashion voice attributed to Timothy Wayne, at a board meeting. Not even that modulated deeper one that comes from the Red Robin cowl. No, I’ve gone the full monty here. Deepening my own voice, then enhancing it with a gravelly synthesis of my Mentor’s own voice. Part tribute, part technology, all necessity. I’m positive that, without seeing me, even Damien would think himself in the room with his father. Mind you, that’s as far as the effort to simulate the Batman as I could effectively go. There’s simply no way to function effectively -and- add thirty more pounds or four more inches to the costume.
That said, I’ve taken the Bat-suit and made it my own. I’ve got no illusions of being Bruce Wayne’s equal in a fight. Hell, I’m not even Damien’s equal in a fight. Nor am I going to be the total package that Dick is. What I have going for me, is enough skill to play the role convincingly if I can get the right help to balance it out. That first step is adding my own technology to the suit. The next step… I’m not going to be able to carry this city alone. Not like Bruce could. I’m not going to be able to do it, even with just a single partner. In the grand scheme of things, I figure that if I’m half the man Bruce was? I’ll only need five or ten partners to make up the difference.
The other thing I’ve got going for me? Is that I’m good enough. Most people. Even most of the rogue’s gallery Bruce amassed. Aren’t going to know the difference at first sight. Maybe not even until it’s too late. Which is part of what I’m putting to the test with Stephanie. The ‘Bat Approach.’
“Tim tells me you’re on to something. What do you think you’ve found.”
Stephanie: Lighter with the left, harder with the right. Save the energy and effort for more powerful punches on the follow-up. Not a hard theory, I’ve seen enough action movies to have picked up a thing or two. In theory. In practice it takes a lot more effort, especially because my right hand isn’t my strong hand. I’m left handed. Something Canary had proved to be quite unsympathetic about, if anything I’m pretty sure there was a demonic sort of gleam in her eyes at the idea. So here I am. Reining in my left. Hitting harder with my weaker left. Not the most effective, or at least it wasn’t a few days ago. I feel like it’s getting better. Muscle tone. Practice. Maybe someday I’ll sucker punch just as hard with my right. That’s my assumption for her ‘method’ anyway.
Schoolyard already taught me along time ago most people don’t expect a strong left hook. Yesterday I was actually starting to feel good about my right. Then she clipped my ankles out from under me with a sweep kick. Thank God for high quality training mats. If that had been at school in the gym, my ass would be as bruised as my ego.
I’ve been alone in here for the last hour and a half, I trickled in after school. No, I’m not Brown-nosing (hah), I just don’t actually enjoy being humiliated. And this much I can work on solo, just like the effort I put into running here. And grappling. With only three mishaps this time, down from yesterday’s total of seven. Honestly. I got around like less of a noob without gadgets than with. When it was me, my borrowed high school drama costume, and usually a brick. But seriously. I look so much more badass. And there’s an iPod jack built into this one. I have a sneaking suspicion though that Red Robin’s deactivated it somehow when I’m outside or fighting. I haven’t asked. Maybe I could claim his suit’s faulty but yeah. First option’s more likely.
I’m in the middle of dwelling on how I feel about someone having that much control over something that I”m wearing, and also how much better this workout would be with a playlist piped in, and how much easier this facemask is to breathe through when I’m rudely interrupted. By rudely interrupted I mean had the holyshit scared right out of me. No. Really. Right out of my mouth.
“Holyshit!”
It’s not a voice I recognize. I mean. It is, actually. Just not a voice I’ve heard lately. I’d say that you live in the scummy parts of Gotham and you’ve heard it at some point. Probably because Batman’s just saved your ass. That’s not actually why I am hauntingly familiar with the sound of that gravely Dark Knight voice. I spin around, startled and then even more startled judging by the saucer size of my eyes over the edge of my face mask, at who’s standing behind me. Instinct had the arm I’d just been about to hit the bag with swinging wide to connect behind me, only I pull i up short because… well.
Only crazy people try to punch Batman. Overcorrecting, I take a step backwards into the bag, and then look over my shoulder at it, as if it’s the bag’s fault somehow.
“I mean. Holyshit aren’t you dead? I mean. You’re standing right here so… Jesus. GhostBatman’s not a thing is it? Uh…”
Ghost Batman? That’s some scary shit. And he’s asked me a question that my brain kind of skipped right past, and is barely managing to circle around now, like water going down the drain. Uhhhhhhhhh… Oh. About the Douchebag. I open my mouth ready to spout out all kinds of useless information like how he got arrested on my fifth birthday. And my eighth. And my twelfth. But I manage to summon what little filter I have, and redirect myself back. Mostly once there’s the addition of Tim thinking I’m onto something. Wait. Do I know a Tim? Is there even a Tim at school? It’s not the coolest of names…
“….Tim? Is that Red Robin’s name? Tim? Ahahaha….um. Sorry… my Dad. I don’t think I found anything.”
I know. Sidling to the side of the bag, I lean into it, only for it to sway a little more than I”m ready for like yeah, I’m cool. Just.. talking to Ghost Batman and… you’re not cool at all right now Stephanie. Not the tiniest little bit. So I clear my throat, straighten my stance, and push on through some more pertinent details.
“He’s goading people into small stuff. Not moving himself, but putting out tiny crime feelers to see what gets attention. I actually thought there was a point to it at first, but he’s testing the waters. To see if Joker bites. To see if…uh. Well. You, I guess bite. Or your little club. They’re getting ballsier though. He’s trying to get the bigger fish in on it. Except he’s not doing anything himself. Yet.”
With something else besides my shock, the holyshitGhostBatman, and my looking totes uncool to focus my attention, I take a moment to look. And I mean actually look. Pursing my lips under the mask and cocking my head at the Batman in front of me.
“…I remember you being a lot taller.”
I’m being super restrained here. Really. I didn’t even point out he’s kind of short for a Stormtrooper once.
God I want to point out he’s awful short for a Stormtrooper. But I don’t want a batarang in my face. I’m pretty sure my face still isn’t batarang proof.
Tim: Oh, right. She doesn’t know who Tim is. How would Batman handle this? Easy, dumb ass. He wouldn’t have said Tim’s name in the first place. God, he only taught you that as rule numero uno on day one. What the hell were you thinking, using a name like that? The real question is, how would Bruce turn a mistake of that sort around on you? Because let’s just be honest here. Bruce made mistakes. He just always found a way to make someone else pay for them. Normally. Until he, obviously, made one mistake too many. Seemingly.
“Mm. You have a habit of taking advice, training and equipment from people you don’t even know?”
There. That works. Put the onus of expectation upon her. Yes. This will work beautifully. Right up until she notices the height. Then I’m forced in to doing something else that I’ve seen Bruce do a million times before. Looming. Making yourself seem much larger than you are by placing yourself in to optimal position to allow the light to cast your shadow. Police do it too during interrogation. You’re always positioned to look in to the light. Giving them the benefit of sight, as well as the shadows enhancing them and scaring you. A step closer, as she steps back and it all but completes pinning her in. Leaving Stephanie to peer up, in spite of her own comment about my being shorter. The cape does the work of hemming her in, as it swirls around the two of us.
“You’ve been watching him. Tracking his ‘feelers.’ You’ve been watching the clues.” There’s no acknowledgement of the idle comment on height, just laser focus upon the topic of her Father. “Grab whatever gear you need. The car is outside. I’m leaving in two minutes. With or without you.”
That next swirl of the cape is a side-effect of the sudden turn. Normally you wouldn’t want to turn your back on someone, but this is clearly a friend of the “Family” so to speak. She’s in the Robin’s Nest. Working with Dinah. I’ve got no reason to treat her as Hostile, as Batman, so I don’t. I promised her, if she worked on her game that I’d help her with her investigation. I’m keeping that promise, with the added benefit of taking a case as Batman that isn’t exactly massive in profile. There is a very good chance that we’re going to be able to look in to this and make an impression. Tell the City that Batman is back. Without doing jumping in to the deep end and getting myself killed on the first night out of the Cave.
With any luck. I won’t even get Stephanie killed either. Well. Unless she makes the Stormtrooper joke. Then all bets are off.
Steph: “Mm. Now that’s a non-committal sound. I think it has to be a repeat thing to qualify as a habit, but…You live in Gotham long enough and you get kind of a vibe alarm. Since it wasn’t hey kid, you want a piece of candy? Just get in my van… then…hell yes I do.”
Hoo. Boy. Did he just get taller? Nah, I mean logically I know he didn’t. I’m pretty sure Batman didn’t ever have height control superpowers, and using all those fancy tech and gadgets just to put pneumatic lifts in your boots to menace people seems like a waste. And what if they malfunctioned? Hilarity and stilts do not a great scary vigilante make. Not. That I’d really know anything about being particularly scary. Shorter than I remember or not, though it’s been maybe… eight years since I was up close and personal with the Batman. I was a lot shorter then. It was also the middle of the night, and he was in the middle of beating the snot out of my father. Not something I hold against him. Really. Totally deserved it. Then and now.
Part of me just wants to be the one to do it this time. No. Not part. Like, all of me. Even though I’m not really prone to all that much violence, and my plan mostly revolved around making his blow up spectacularly. I want the Cluemaster to fail. I want him humiliated. And I want him to go back to jail for like. Ever. The last part isn’t real likely in Gotham, if the previous revolving door policy is any indicator. But this time? He might be up to something bad enough. One blue eye squints almost closed, and I draw my head back not because I’m intimidated (…I’m totally intimidated though…) but because I’m giving the Bat a bit of a sketchy look.
“…ooooor there was no van and candy vibe until riiiiight now.”
My step backwards is really just to take me closer to where I’d left the telescoping staff that I’d been given, and even if my ‘combat training’ with that isn’t yet anywhere near up to par according to Black Canary? I play softball. I know for a fact I can crack something with it. Fast moving or not. What else do I need? Is this a test? I don’t think I need anything, and I didn’t bring anything else and I’m not super sure if Red Robin was kidding or not when he was talking about taser traps in the gear that I’m not ‘cleared’ for. Which leaves me scrambling in the direction the Bat stalked off like some grumpy, loomy, angel of Ghost Vengeance. Seriously. Batman’s supposed to be dead. It’s why the Joker’s out terrorizing. And why no one wants to stick their head out far enough in the game of criminal underbelly whack-a-mole to make a target of themselves.
Holy shit, Stephanie Brown. Are you about to go for a ride in the batmobile?
Pinch me. That’s really the Batmobile. Or a Batmobile. You know what, it could be a Batprius and I’d be just about as jazzed as I am now. Even though two capes probably wouldn’t fit super well. This is me. Climbing into the batmobile. Candy and creepy loomy Ghostbatman or not. Eeeeeeeeeeee. Oh. God. I think a little bit of that squealing was out loud.
“….ah-heh-hem… It’s mostly been texts. Burner phone convos. A couple face to face meetings. The by far weirdest was stealing empty crates and replacing them with boxes full of … I don’t know what. I didn’t get to check.”
Yeah, thanks for that Red Robin. Hrmph.
Tim: Yes. Stephanie Brown is getting to ride in the Batmobile. Not just any of the Batmobiles either. This one was, once upon a time, the very same one that I road in with Bruce. How could it be any different? On top of it being something that I know, it also feels right. A touch retro, yes, but again it is the one that I know. Comfort is something that I’ve got a specific desire for. Anything that soothes my nerves in this entire debacle, is a win. Honestly. The sleek curves, sloped dome that drifts back in to speed fins that resemble bat-wings. It has all the halmarks of a futuristic jet-engine that’s about to take flight, while retaining the dark and intimidating guise of the Batmobile. My favorite touch is the red gleam that makes it look like a demon coming out of the smog of the night.
Inside is another story. Well not entirely. There is a certain feeling of being inside of a jet, but just more in order of it being a cockpit and not a luxury vehicle. Systems line the interior every where that the eyes can see in the dark. Much of the systems are voice activated, but I’ve upgraded the data-screens to be three dimensional holographic displays. As such there’s a certain technological enhancement that says ‘Tim Drake,’ but the functionality though is one hundred percent Bruce Wayne. Because this baby is as much a tank as a jet. Power throbs in the beast the moment the engine roars to life and we speed off out in to the alleyway exit from the Nest.
“You didn’t get to check,” a gesture towards one of the consoles will bring up the details of Red Robin’s sophisticated scanning technology, that was used on the crates. “Texts. Burner Phone conversations. Observed face to face meetings. Clues, Stephanie. That have lead you to the idea that he’s put feelers out. That he’s judging responses.”
“Your Father’s motif is never something so overt. Whether by design of calamity of error, your Father made himself in to a cheap knock off of the Riddler. He has been driven by the necessity to give clues to his crimes. The truth is, if he didn’t do that. If he he wasn’t compelled by the need for recognition, he’d have been a better criminal than Nygma ever was. The real question isn’t what is he doing. It’s why are you the only one who found the Clues?”
“He’s testing you,” and how do I know that? Because it’s what Bruce did to us. It’s what I did with Cassie. “The only Mystery for me, is what is he testing you for. I suspect it’s something larger and you’re only scratching the surface. That his test is whether you’re worthy of being brought in to whatever lays beneath.”
“So. What’s the next step? Where do we begin?”
Steph: Talk about a pre-pubescent dream come true. What kind doesn’t fantasize at least once or twice about screaming around the streets of Gotham in this thing, or some version of it? I sure couldn’t tell you which was which, though there’s differences. What matters is whose car (is this even really a car?) it is, and what that stood for. Someone about to get their ass kicked. That’s what. If you come from where I grew up (I get to say past tense because we’re at least in a slightly better part of the city now. D+ instead of F.), maybe it was someone you knew or had seen. Maybe that’s just me. I’m pretty sure the highest any of my friends parents got was mook or side henchmen. And my Dad’s just…well. Cluemaster.
“…pool chemicals? Who the freak reverse steals chlorine and algae killer?”
People guided by said lame Cluemaster, apparently. Pinching the bridge of my nose, as I lean in closer to the display like a slightly more direct examination is going to display something different. I don’t understand. There has to be something bigger at work, right? That’s what the gut’s telling me, but it’s also telling me that I would be totally down to sabotage Arthur Brown by hitting the add 30 seconds button on his microwave two times and making him burn his late night popcorn. I’ll take what I can get, at this point.
“…wait. Who’s testing me? Boy Wonder, or my dumb Dad? You can’t be ser…..”
That face looks like it’s never been not serious in ever, and that it never ever will not be serious so I trail off and go back from looking at him in disbelief to squinting at the screen in front of me. A jewelry heist, which wouldn’t have set off any alarms had I not thrown a brick through the window. Taking empty crates, from what apparently was an entire warehouse of nothing but empty crates and bringing back ordinary pool chemicals you could probably buy anywhere. Just. Like. A whole lot of them. Maybe they were amassing something? Maybe they were unrelated and he’s just gone kooky control freak to test if he can. But testing me?
“I mean. Yeah. He used to do that. He’s been different since his last round in Arkham, though. Hence why he’s got parental rights again. For now. Until he borks that again. I left something at his place and I broke in.”
I’m not going to launch into the sob story about how I didn’t want to see him in the first place. That his messed up crap only messes my Mom up, and she’s just barely managing to cling to the clean and sober train as far as I can tell. I mean, I guess he’d drive me to drink, too. That’s Gotham for you though. Doesn’t matter if he’s a repeat wannabe nemesis to the city’s vigilantes. He’s reformed, everyone. He’s cured. Lets carry on like nothing he ever did has hurt anyone and that he deserves…. erk. Stephanie. Rewind. Focus.
“…you’re asking me? Batman’s asking me? Uh. Well. I’ve been following around one of his ‘friends” undergoons. He was really interested in the City Planner’s office. Either that or the donut place across the street. That’s not real nefarious though. So I’m guessing the Planner. Van parked there for hours every night. Seems like a pretty stupid place to break into. You can just walk in and request plans for pretty much any city project.”
And late night raiding of a donut shop… please. There’s not even any donuts left that time of night.
Tim: There are a lot of things you can get from the City Planner’s office. Most of them, like Stephanie says, are things you could get with a written request in about ten minutes. However the City Planner has access to some information that people outside of that officer would never have a reason to know. For example, the schedule of stop lights all across the city. Routing forms for the subway -and- rail stations. Essentially the Planner’s Office has access to anything they need access to in order to plan the strategic growth of the City.
“There are any number of things in that office you can’t just request. The Sewer System access points. Power Grid information. Water Supply, Treatment and even storage. Just to name a few things of vital importance that someone like your Father might make use of in order to pull off some scheme or another.”
Joker once tried to poison the Water Reserve with Joker Toxin, he started at the City Planner’s office. There was the time that Penguin’s people tried to hold the City Hostage with explosive penguins in the gas mains in the sewer system. So many things are at that location, that might serve as signficant to someone like Arthur Brown. Once more though, I’m not asking myself ‘Why’ or ‘What’ this guy may be up too. I don’t have to figure that out for once. The more important part of the mystery is, that if Arthur is doing something? He’s hiding it from us, but not his own Daughter. Nothing I know about Stephanie suggests that she’d be able to keep her feelings for her Father quiet entirely. Meaning that I’m stuck, trying to understand why he’d let his daughter get the clues.
The trip to the Planner’s office is a short one when you’re riding the rails of a car that is literally jet propelled. We make good time, especially with the computer acting as a very amped up version of Google Maps. Bringing us right up to the point where she said her Dad’s people watch that office.
“I’m asking you,” easy to confirm that much, isn’t it? “Why would your father tip his hand to you? Why not follow his normal motif and leave clues that only the trained eye could find? Unless he’s doing it to see if you, specifically, can follow the breadcrumbs.”
Steph: “And some of those you can figure out with eyeballs and legwork.”
Not all of them, obviously, but I’d best most kids in my neighborhood I grew up in could have told you where a lot of those things were thanks to exposure to something or other over the years. Education through attrition. I’m pretty sure that’s about the only way to really get ‘street smart.’ I guess it’s not the only way. Black Canary has it. Red Robin (who is apparently named Tim? thanks GhostBatman!) does as well, and I don’t know if he gets his from experience, or from all the computer stuff he carts around at all times. He doesn’t talk like someone who’s grown up in any kind of way close to the way I did. Another of those things you learn to pick out even if you don’t realize it.
I try really hard to not enjoy the ride out loud but. Cripes. That’s a big fail. If I weren’t buckled I’d be bouncing in my seat, because I’m pretty sure I’ve never been in anything that moved this fast in my entire lifetime. No. Actually I’m totally positive. Definitely faster than I would have gotten here on foot, even starting from a whole lot closer to where we are now. Narrowing my eyes to peer out the window isn’t necessary, I see just fine, it’s more an extension of my annoyance that’s resurfaced now that I’m not on something better than an amusement park ride.
“Because he was supposed to be over that. Cured. That’s why he was released early. Model Gotham Citizen that doesn’t feel the need to be awful and leave clues everywhere he goes like someone that wants to be caught.”
And some stupid, stupid part of me had actually dared to hope they were right. That he wasn’t going to be that guy anymore. No more plots. No more elaborate heists. No more having to adult because my Mom’s gotten herself too doped up to do it herself, after finding out he was in jail yet again. He hadn’t gone immediately back to it, either. It’s been almost a year since he was released from Arkham. At least, it was a year until I noticed. So was he doing it quietly the whole time and I only just picked up on it? Really not leaving clues, which is why none of the Bats had caught on? Or is this really all new?
“So either he suddenly decided it’d be cool to show me that I was right to think he was still an epic douchemonster, it’s not on purpose and he got sloppy in his house, or… what. He thinks that he’s going to provoke me into following in his footsteps? I don’t think that’s working.”
Tim: “Yes, you’re right. That’s exactly the point though,” and it’s why the Batman is looking at her instead of one of those fancy screens on an even fancier Batmobile. “If we remove the things from the list of potential reasons for him to need that office. Then we learn something by process of elimination. The most rudimentary form of deduction.”
That also happens to play in to why she’s here though. Not merely for the education or even the training. This is as much about getting to the bottom of the entire situation as it is about honoring a deal made to Stephanie at the beginning. Helping her get through this, also means having her expertise in the one thing that she can actually contribute on immediately. Her father. She knows him, so she knows the intimate details that Bruce would have known through study and past experience with the Cluemaster. I could (and have) read files, but Stephanie has experience. That means a lot.
Plus, there is also something more. The thing we’ve only now touched upon. I can’t believe that someone like the Cluemaster would go ‘straight’ so well, for so long. Only to begin leaving a breadcrumb trail for his own Daughter. Unless, it was at least marginally intentional. The Cluemaster is a creature of logic. His clues are meant to test an adversary. There is absolutely no other explanation for Stephanie finding the Clues, than he is testing her in some way. Well, there’s one other explanation that I can potentially accept: Stephanie got lucky, unlucky perhaps even. The problem with that is, she’d have to be exceedingly lucky to stumble upon as many clues as she has by happenstance. Which only brings me back to the original conclusion, that even if she got lucky with one, maybe two, eventually when her Father caught on to her awareness? He most likely started to test her, to see if she was naturally skilled or dumbly lucky.
I admit, I’m curious as well.
“Your Father was never actually wanting to be caught. His motives weren’t as simple as greed. I’ve met a couple people like him. It starts with boredom. A lack of challenge in your personal life or your professional life. A realization that you’re simply better or smarter than those around you. Enough so that you decide at some point to take a rash step. Maybe it’s parkour or sky-diving for those of a physical bent. Those of the mentally adept might look to hack a friend or build a better mouse trap. Eventually that is just a gateway in to something larger. Because eventually you need bigger challenges.”
“It grows. It takes a life of it’s own. A life that needs a name. Whether it’s Cluemaster or Riddler. You something or someone to challenge you. The act of a crime isn’t a challenge in itself. The dare of competition. ‘Catch me, if you can’ is the only thing that can give your existence meaning.” All of this is spoken of as if it were something I know about intimately. And it is, isn’t it? Whether it’s a man driven to avenge the Death of his parents or a boy driven to put his mind to a good use. Either case is an example of excellence needing a challenge. Just as much as the flip-side of the coin. “A man like your father needs a nemesis, someone to play chess with. But there is almost always one thing that people like your father like as much as a challenge.”
“They love having a partner. Someone equal to them or close enough. Bound to them in a way that bridges the gap in trust that criminals otherwise have trouble with.” Bringing us to a stop, I pause only to look across at her before hopping out. “You should also consider, if only for a moment, that there is a significant chance that your Father had truly gone clean. The clues you have found are subtle enough, that there may truly be nothing at work here other than him testing a potential partner.”
“If that’s the case. Then there is also the possibility that you could save him. By giving him a healthy reason for his mind not to be bored.”
Steph: My money’s on power grid. Not that it means much. My money, that is. I mean. Who’s going to take a twelve dollar and thirty-six cent bet? Probably not Batman, Ghost or otherwise. Clearly he’s got the cash. Because whether it’s him that’s funding all of this? And I mean the BatJet on Wheels here, Red Robin’s Cave of Wonders and Torture and whatever else they’ve got around the city. Or someone else? There’s a lot of money involved. I may not be some kind of tech savant but it doesn’t take one to know just the suit I’m wearing alone is $$$. An iPhone runs around $1000 bucks. Now multiply that times every weird little gadget I’m carrying around and… you’ve got the point. Which. Wasn’t the point. The point was the power grid. I know I could figure out nearly everything else named.
“I think you just described the mental outlook of like. Every teenager ever. Well. Except maybe the wallflowers. I don’t really know any of those.”
It could also just be called a drive to succeed and/or achieve. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Depends what you do with it, I guess. It’s not like I want to stay in my crummy neighborhood forever. I want to GTFO at some point. There’s two ways you do that. Keeping your nose clean and getting someone to pull you out via scholarship, or… see example Douchedad. But he never really got out either. I’m not saying Bats here is wrong. He’s a whole lot more right than anything else. It fits. I also don’t know if I should be insulted or not. I had to hunt for everything I’ve found so far, sometimes across multiple break ins (if it’s really breaking in when you’re technically allowed to be there), after that first accidental run in. It actually makes me a little internally grumpy-faced to think I only did that because someone let me.
Only a little grumpy-faced though. I’m still sitting in the Batmobile wearing a kick-ass suit.
“He’s more into flunkies and minions. Not the yellow, googly eyed kind. I mean. None of these guys so far are really on his level, and his level’s not really high. And if he’s angling for sidekick… I’m super not interested. I just want to stop him.”
There’s a pause, while I look sideways at the caped and cowled man sitting in the driver’s seat.
“…or. Save him. Thats’ an option, too. I guess.”
My tone of voice says it wasn’t my priority though. Or really anything that’s crossed my mind at any point leading up to this. Like. Redeem him? Arkham was supposed to have done that already. His repeated trips to it and other lock-ups should have. Saving wasn’t my goal here. It is, and always has been, sabotage. Bringing him down. Sending him right back where he clearly belongs and that’s not out here with court mandated bi-monthly visits with me.
Tim: The way in which I exit the Batmobile is something you have to learn. I had the opportunity to do so from Bruce. A hand upon the hatch that opens over our heads. Leverage provided by the seat which moves to accommodate when properly activated. The entire affairs reads and looks like a graceful moment of the Batman taking flight from the vehicle. Landing, just as gracefully, a few feet away. Which easily transitions in to my taking the first few steps toward the building we’re here to access.
“Perhaps. Though there is a level of acuteness that grows with age. Teenagers tend to grow out of that feeling or find it more easily satiated. People like your Father tend to be the ones who either don’t or can’t find something to satiate that feeling of boredom. That sense of no one else being on their levels.”
What are we looking for? I don’t know. We’re here as much out of a necessity to put Stephanie in to the field and test drive my suit as we are out of some hope that there’s anything to find here. As Tim Drake, I could have pulled the power grid remotely. I’ve therefor got to believe that her father could have as well. The thing is, her father hadn’t. He went to the trouble of actually setting up meetings. Whatever he wants isn’t something he could get easily another way. Something that he couldn’t know from another source. Logically whatever he was after with this connection is here. In some form. Whether physical evidence that Stephanie might be able to catch the scent of or perhaps a connection to someone else that we’re unaware of.
Much like the crates, we won’t know unless we actually do the leg work. As I’m making my way forward, I look back over a shoulder to her with an almost-but-not-quite shake of the head. “Mmm. Having a partner isn’t always about what we want, at times it is a matter of what we need.”
This? I know first hand. Dick was Bruce’s partner, but he didn’t come about initially. Batman was solo at first. Dick came about as a necessity. Someone that balanced the Dark Knight with light hearted humor and a sense of joy. Jason had been the one that kept Bruce centered, after losing his smile. He was the one that brought Bruce out of the fog, back in to the light. Damien then gave Bruce a reason to keep fighting. Bruce would never have said he needed any of those things, but that’s why I was his partner. A grim reminder to the Batman that he wasn’t a solitary soldier, but the sum of the many parts of our ‘Family’ that made him what he was.
“Your mask has a hidden button along the jawline. Activating it will bring up a faceplate. Goggles. Heads up Display. An interface with our computer system. Your access is limited, but you should be able to get a read on this building’s security. With the computer’s assistance, given how rudimentary it is, even you should be able to hack in. Once we’re in. Treat the place like a crime scene. Touch as little as possible, but let’s see what we can find that might interest your Father.”
Steph: …yeah, okay. That was pretty smooth. The exit. As much as I’d love to be able to duplicate it and look similarly badass, I don’t even try. In my head, even as I leverage myself out of my seat a lot more like climbing in and out of my friends’ overstuffed junkyard cars, I can see the chibi-cartoon version of events that would have me catching my cape on something, making a swan dive leap off the hood and landing face first in a heap of limbs, purple, and swirling grumble emotes. Not trying to look like an epic fail, here. Fortunately I can manage to get from vehicle to street without any incident that I would have had to blame on nerves. I don’t exactly go out with a ‘partner’ normally. On purpose. Let alone GhostBatman.
“Huh. That was an awful cryptic nugget of wisdom there. Possibly also passive aggressive.”
What my Dad always seemed to ‘need’ was someone to beat. Some degree of fame. A way to demonstrate his intellectual superiority. Something to make him feel better about being a total failure. So the goon squad fits that. The theory of him testing me works, too, in a way that still doesn’t really make me feel great on the inside. Then there’s applying that little fortune cookie line to right now. Somehow I kind of doubt Batman (ghost or otherwise) needs me. There seems to be a whole flock (are Bats flocks? Flurries?) of way more experienced choices. So this just boils down to what the Douchebag is up to. What I know.
“…seriously, why does everyone know more about how my suit works than I do? Did everyone get copies of the manual? I am reading the manual. It’s just got more pages than my Bio textbook with a lot more opportunity for disaster if I don’t quite ‘get’ it…”
It’s muttering to myself, only out loud, but definitely loud enough to be heard as I find said button, boots pausing in midstep on the pavement as the HUD slides into place and I take it in with an also not exactly quiet ‘wooooah.’ In my defense Grappling Hook comes before HUD in the alphabet and I’m still working on mastering that one before I move on. Mostly for the sake of my bones. On the plus side? I’m pretty good with computers, and figuring out how to get at what’s on them. Rudimentary. Hah. Well. I guess in comparison it is, and the computer in the suit makes it about like color by number, connect the dots or training wheels. God. I’ve got a supersuit with training wheels.
“So, since this place has so much vital information and it gets broken into so often… why haven’t they fixed that? General state of we don’t give a fuuu… oh. Jeez. Dumb, Spoiler, dumb, dumb, dumb…”
I about smack the heel of my hand into my forehead, pulling up short as I remember the display that even now is showing me all sorts of juicy details about the government building in front of us, full of blueprints and documents and relics of red tape and permits. Entrances. And how literally none of the windows at all have any sort of barrier on them. Then there’s the area around us. The van’s not here now, but I watched it enough times the last few nights to wish the donut place was open, and to remember where it was parked.
“Manhole cover. They were using the van to block the manhole cover. Right there.”
Tim: Does Batman do passive-aggressive? Heh. Bruce would have said no, but I know the truth. He did it better than anyone. If you knew where to look for it. Me? I’m a little less likely to hide it than him, but I still play the cards close to the vest. You’d never know by reaction whether I meant it that way or not. Especially given that we weren’t talking about me. Were we? This is all about her Father and her. A little more the latter than the former for once. I’ve given this a lot of thought and I’ve come to decide that I too am interested in whether Stephanie would take her father’s side if she thought he would accept her. Put her talents to good use, by way of using them for Evil.
Then I remembered that she’s got about as much skill to lend to her father as I have free-time. It goes a long way towards soothing my worry that I might be aiding and abetting a future super-villain. A real Obi-Wan to Skywalker level of worry there. But my stray thoughts are brought full circle when she does it. She actually puts pieces together, like I had hoped she would. That’s when I’m swept back in to thinking she might have some natural talents after all. So. Potential Super-Vill…
“Spoiler? Like the fin on the back of a sports car, for reducing drag? Good job, Spoiler.”
She gave herself a codename. No. One look at her tells me the truth of it. Super-Hero Name. Ugh. There’s a very real desire building within me to facepalm right now, but the Batman does not do such things. He scowls. Menacingly. Especially when faced with the prospect of going in to the sewers. Double ugh. A quick once-over of the Manhole cover for boobytaps, before pulling it up and out of the way. As I’m dropping down into it there’s a whirring sound of the Batmobile locking down in to anti-theft mode while we’re gone.
I don’t even ask if she’s coming with. I know she won’t be able to stay back, so I don’t bother even hinting that she should. The Batman would probably have tied her up, stuffed her in the Bat-trunk. I’m realizing as I land in the muck, that I probably should have done just that myself. Given that I -am- the Batman for now. But, I can’t shake the feeling that Stephanie needs this a lot like I needed it. Like Damien needs it now. So if I can’t help Stephanie with Cluemaster, how am I going to help Damien with his trouble?
“Goggles. Nightvision. Be careful, don’t underestimate your Father,” am I saying that for her sake or my own? “And stop under-estimating yourself too.”
Steph: Since I couldn’t smack my forehead, I’d settled for pressing my palm to the top of my hooded head. How had I not noticed that? Well. I guess to be fair, I hadn’t noticed the manhole because the van had been parked over the top of it every night, and I’d arrived after them, and left before. Except one night and I’d spent more time looking for a reason why the van wasn’t in the now normal spot than picking out things that may or may not have been on the ground. I have a feeling raising all those objections would only get the fact that I’d had the tech then that I’m running now, only I realize he’s not actually saying anything about that at all.
Batman’s making fun of my freaking name. Sure. The words might seem like someone looking for clarification, and offering congratulations on finding a connection, but let me tell you. Gravely voice or not? It’s still perfectly capable of conveying sarcasm and general judginess. Spinning on my heel, with hand still in place the other one jabs a finger at him.
“No. Like something that gives away important details in a plot. Or ruins something. What? Clearly being incredibly literal with your name is a thing around here.”
The jabbing finger starts making circling motions to encompass all of him, from pointy eared cowl, to that big cape he just showed off in his epic car dismount, to the symbol on the chest. Which I’m still doing as he sizes up the manhole cover and starts to move it, only the fact that he drops from view and I can hear noises from the Batmobile behind me that stops any further huffing on the matter. What was I supposed to call myself if anyone asked? And someone already had more than once. I can’t just say ‘Yeup, Hi! I’m Stephanie Brown! Nice to meet you!’ Making fun of someone’s codename… sheesh. Isn’t there some kind of rule about that?
Crouching at the edge of the open sewer entrance, balanced on the balls of my feet, I spend a couple seconds very seriously considering my options. Like pulling the cover back into place and seeing if maybe the suit can still get me into that fancy rocket car. Or jumping into the sewer which….ew? The nightvision I’ve already switched on, surprised and a little impressed with either myself or the system as a whole as to how easy that was to navigate. And now looking at an overlay of the directions these sewer systems run from here. Maybe I can just follow up here on the street. Eventually with a sigh, I drop down into the hole as well.
“….eugh… is there like. A company dry cleaner you take your suits to after this? I don’t think this is a smell that is ever going to just air out.”
Well, dummy. You’re down here. It stinks about as much as one might expect. Actually. A little less. Maybe that’s the face mask at work. Either way I’m reining in any sighing or huffing just the same. Since he waited for me, I have to assume I’m expected to do some more ‘super-pro’ detective work here. Making me more and more sure this is a test for whether or not I’m about to get kicked off the Island in the next Survivor’s Council. Following to where the City Planner’s actual crap enters the sewers doesn’t really need any techy kinds of help. Not only does it not really look big enough for even me to wiggle through (yuck?) but the grating shows signs of not being messed with in a really long time. So unless someone intentionally reapplied some ‘muck’ and spent an awful lot of time hiding their tracks… in a sewer… this isn’t it. Maybe they really weren’t even here for that stuff at all. So what else is nearby to be a potential? Back tracking, I head for another junction. Muttering out the side of my mouth as I go past.
“Maybe you could use something to reduce being a drag though. Just sayin’.”
The jewelry store is near here. Reasonably near here at least. It’s the closest of the places I’d been lately, and that’s really all that I’ve got to go off of. Walking fast and with a purpose, mostly because after that little snipe who wouldn’t want some distance between themself and GhostBatman (who can surely keep up but hey), and because I want to figure this out. And GTFO of the sewer. Another turn takes me to the junction I want and maybe it’s the mask. Maybe it’s my positive outlook. But the smell’s definitely improving.
Or maybe it’s the noticeable reduction in raw sewage. Now that doesn’t seem likely except..
“Uh. Dam.”
Well that’s not in the schematics. Unless the city has suddenly started spending money to erect almost pristinely new concrete barriers in the middle of their sewage canals, the only opening a small pipe at the bottom which is only allowing a small trickle of waste through. Easy to step over, as I peer up at the wall.
“No. Really.”
Tim : As Stephanie speaks to the actual naming convention involved with her code name, I’m busy with something other than actually paying attention to her. Wrenching a manhole cover from it’s moorings is no easy feat. Luckily the batsuit is slightly reinforced, with spring-loaded muscle fibers. Moderately increasing the strength of the user. Other than height, I don’t want to hit lighter or move slower than Bruce. There’s no reason to give someone any reason to believe that I’m anything other than who I appear to be.
She’s only begun swirling her finger when I plunged in to the darkness. By the time she’d joined me I was already mapping out the sewer system on my own and had come to a very similar conclusion about the Office sewage evacuation system. But, to be fair, I’d actually come to that conclusion before we got there. Though I hadn’t discounted the potential of them wanting something about the Gotham Underground, I was fairly certain there was nothing else of long term value inside of those offices. What we end up with isn’t exactly what I had been forming a hypothesis about though.
“Mmm. My other costume has smaller horns and a glider cape.” If she thinks even for a moment that I’m allowing her sarcasm to gain traction she’s in the wrong business. “Your suit’s mask is designed to function as a gas and toxin filter, in addition to a small oxygen storage system. Enough to survive submerged for perhaps an hour. Depending entirely upon oxygen expenditure.”
That grim look never changes, but if Dinah were here she would hear the smirk that is implied in those comments. Telling someone they might get an hour out of their air supply if they could manage to shut up, is about as smarmy as I’m apt to get while wearing this cape and cowl. Banter is natural though. Bruce and I did this all the time. I’m told that he and Dick did the same. Those rare times I was able to go out on the town with Grayson, were some of the most fun experiences I’ve got memory of. Dick made it fun, by leading the banter and not just participating. Which only made it more fun for me to imagine Bruce and Damien. What was banter with those two like?
“All of our uniforms are maintained by Penny-One. Though there is also a limited self-cleaning and repair functionality to the newer models. Self-repair and Penny-One are both functions that come after Grappling Hook in the manual. Really, hasn’t Red Robin or Canary asked you to read the manual?”
Banter. This time it’s a cover more so than actual teasing. As she speaks I’m having my own cowl connect to the Batmobile’s mini–computers in order to compare various blue prints. New. Old. Approved future ones. Work orders that have come through. This is new. It’s clearly not meant to be here. We’re going to investigate, but I want to know all we can as we’re in motion. Who might be connected to this? Where do the threads tie off?
“Spoiler. Are you ready to keep going or do you want to wait by the Car?”‘
Steph: “Well, right. Why wouldn’t it?”
Whether that’s about his tiny eared, glider cape suit or my face mask’s extra built in awesome features is debatable. It works for both. I’m the Swiss army knife of commentary. It could probably be argued that his not engaging with the sass makes it a lot less satisfying. That’s just not an argument I would ever make, I can talk to myself quite happily for a good long time. Besides. Lack of comment on some of it or not I know he heard me, so mission accomplished.
“Penny-One? Is that like. A roomba for vigilantes or a person? Right, right. Read the manual.”
Hands on hips, I’m doing some of my own looking. I just don’t think to look up the same things he does, because I assume more than seek to have what I think confirmed. This is new. It’s easy to tell by looking at it. Even if it weren’t next to the otherwise aged and scummy sewer tunnels, it would look new. New concrete has a different color to it than old does. I also assume that the city head shmucks who can’t be bothered to fix the three foot, man eating pothole on my block probably didn’t cough up the time and effort to erect what looks like a pretty well constructed and sealed wall into place in a sewer. It’s a much more visual experience for me, with the distraction of the HUD’s info that I’m not used to having displayed in front of my field of view.
“Red Robin only does it like. Every time he sees me. Canary doesn’t. She’s more of a thumper than an asker. And she hates the techy stuff, making my suit the onlything she doesn’t thump me over.”
Again, not something I’ve had told to me or confirmed. Just something I assume based on watching her work, or watching her interact with other people or things in the Secret Lair. Besides. It’s not like I’m not reading it to be an ungrateful dummy. I don’t like looking like a dummy. But whoever wrote that manual (my money’s on R.R.) was clearly not writing it for non-big brain science nerds. So I’ve been working on it! Working on it just also includes practical use since I’m a hands on/visual learner, and I’ve only got so many hours in the day that I can currently devote to being a caped and masked badass.
“Seems like that would have been a question to ask before I came down here.”
But I step back away from the new mystery wall, and start walking the way I’d come. At least until I reach the next junction, and can hang a right to angle my path towards what should be the other side of that wall. Only before we are able to reach it, it’s much the same situation. Reduced sewage. Shiny new wall, with another little opening that’s allowing only the tiniest bit through.
“Hookay. Well. My money’s on secret off the grid, under the grid, in the gross grid housing for evil people. Also in the running is nefarious sewer flooding. Magic Mask says these last two tunnels should have led to a larger spill-off area. Do you want to check…all of them?”
Tim: Her question about Penny-One is more or less left unanswered. Oddly enough, in this case I’m not being standard issue Batman. This is more silence because I’m focused on everything we’re seeing. In turn that comes off as the big bad Batman standing there in brooding silence. Internally though I’m looking at a much more sophisticated version of Stephanie’s heads up display. No training wheels here. Visual indexing, flicking between various reads on the tools available through the suit. This suit, much like the one I wear as Red Robin, is meant to enhance my given tools. Bruce would have had to take samples, go back to the Cave, do his research and testing there. I’m able to do much of that work here. So long as the mobile unit is within range and the sewer system doesn’t cut me off from the relays. Cell service is notably shaky down here, but we haven’t gone deep enough to be cut off just yet.
“When you’re following the trail of someone like your Father it pays to be thorough. So there is no harm in our checking all of them. But. I don’t believe it is necessary. There is a pattern here and nothing to suggest that my own on-board systems are being obscured or blocked.” Instead of telling her what her own suit can and can’t do, I’m giving her some insight in to what mine is doing for me. Giving me the ability to look beyond this first series of walls. “We need to ascertain if the sewage is being routed to or away from a particular point.”
“There is also an opportunity here for us to lure someone from your Father’s employ here. In the Batmobile, I carry a small amount of deployable acid. We could apply it to the sealant for one of these walls. Cause a simulated natural critical failure. Someone would come to repair it. Since most of this is happening off the books, whomever comes would have connections that we could exploit.”
“The question before us, Spoiler, is whether you want to play the long game or the short game with your Father. I think this is your choice,” for the first time since we left the Robin’s Nest, I make an effort to turn to Stephanie directly. Up until now I’ve left to wonder if she was here as a side attraction. Maybe even bait. A pawn in the game or someone being tested by more than just her Father. This question, put to her, is meant to ‘clue her in’ to the fact that I’m actually here to fulfill a deal she thinks she made with someone else. This is her Case, for now. I’m helping her. Not the other way around. “What’s the play?”
Steph: I hadn’t really expected an answer. Maybe another not to helpful reminder to read the manual that’s not going to do me any good down here. Not unless I start packing the thing around with me. Hrr. Am I packing the thing around with m…ooh, hey. Well. There we go. A flick of my eyes in one direction and another to peruse the menus and options and there it is. All the wordy and technical ‘tips’ for how to use my suit’s various features in front of me. Explains why they’ve all got the shaded in eye sections of their little masks. To hide the twitchy/tweaker eye motions. I don’t buy that it’s really for a disguise though. I mean. Come on. Covering up just someone’s eyes doesn’t do a whole lot to hide who they are. Now I guess I don’t have an excuse anymore for my lack of downtime to study, though. Dang it, Steph. There’s time while we’re walking and I’m not being answered for me to read the manual right now. So I do. P…P… P… Penny-1. Aha!
How can I assist you, Miss Brown?
HOLYMotherof… the startled sound I make is just as much because I’m startled at the very prim, proper (..and kinda sexy…) voice that sounds through the tiny little speakers in my face mask, and to cut off the exclamation that clearly had begun as out loud judging by the echo in the tunnel around us. Clearly it’s good for a lot of things. Like scaring the crap out of me, and covering up the way my face flushes over my super-uncool outburst in front of an audience. I accelerate my pace more and duck my face down as I clear my throat and mutter a response.
“Um. Hi. Nope. Nothing. Thanks. I’m good. I…actually. Are you a person?”
I mean. While I’ve got his…its’?… attention what does it hurt to ask. Then I’m back to paying attention to Batman, after clearing my throat once again. Dragging my attention from the information displayed across my field of view to what’s actually present. Boy. Talk about distracting, though I’m sure it’s something you get used to. And I have a feeling what I’m being told is something I should actually be paying close attention to. Unlike how my history class went today. Which I may or may not have slept through.
“Away from doesn’t seem real likely. I mean. What would lessening the crap in any given area be doing except a favor to someone? So. Does that mean I was right? Which one? Lair or Awful Stockpile?”
Clearly being right about anyting is a very exciting prospect when you’re me. At least in this department. More than a little exciting actually. Being onto something and not just stumbling into it on accident or by happy (?) chance. Maybe that’s why they do this. You know. Other than out of some sense of justice and whatnot.
“I was kind of led to believe that long game, which was my play before, may not really be an option. As long as ‘critical seal failure’ doesn’t mean ‘wall implodes and we’re going swimming in something that no amount of air filter is going to make less nasty’ I think that works. Should give time to figure out the other burning questions there of what this might be for.”
Tim: Penny-One. Alfred Pennyworth. The man behind the Bat. Whether it’s Bruce, Dick, or me in the suit? The many faces beneath the cowl report to one man at the Cave. It has been that way since before I was here. Before Damien was here. Before Dick was here. It will likely be this way after we’re gone. Alfred is more than Butler, man-servant or nanny. He was a Father to Bruce, a grand-father to Dick and I and he’s more or less all of those things combined for Damien. None of us have ever had to operate without him, yet no one outside of that circle knows who he is. More people know about Bruce than know about Alfred and the irony is…
Alfred Knows Everything.
When he answers Stephanie, I almost laugh. More so at her response than anything, but mostly because you don’t have to be a detective to know that he’s enjoying this. While he might sound sophisticated, suave and remote, the far more likely truth is that he’s taking a sort of sadistic pleasure in Stephanie’s reactions. Her introduction in to this world is a thing of interest to Penny-One, for many reasons of course, but none more so than his desire for us to ‘Heal’ after the loss of Bruce. He encouraged Bruce to adopt me after I lost my parents and that logic only serves to play in to adopting Stephanie in to our family to help heal the loss of someone else.
Unlike the half-mask or the little eye covering one, the full cowl conceals my brows as they arch in her direction. She’s working through this. Making the connections. I can, actually, see her mind going to work on this. The more she talks, without the sarcasm, snark or jokes, I can see what her Father no-doubt sees as well. She’s got the gift for sniffing out the clues when they’re in place. She may not have the tools of a detective, but her mind seems to work like a gifted cipher. Naturally allowing her to make leaps in logic that scientific deduction would do for Bruce or I. Those are tools that can be molded, shaped, honed…
“Penny-One. You heard her. We’re going to dissolve some of the sealant one or two of these dams, from a safe distance. You’ll need to monitor dispatching protocols to this area. You will want to trace anything official. While we await anything unofficial.” As I deliver the final steps of our plan, I’ve turned to make my way back to the Batmobile. “Spoiler will be assisting me. Notify Black Canary that she will be missing her work-out.”
Ah. Shall I prepare a go-basket for the stake out festivities or arrange suitable excuses for missed classes for Ms. Brown? Will she be needing the red and yellow costume soon, I will need to make some cosmetic alterations…
“No. Canary has forbidden her from missing classes,” a pause at the cusp of the ladder up to the street, long enough for me to give Stephanie a longer appraisal before finishing. “We can discuss the other costume when she finishes learning how not to get herself killed in this one.”
Steph: How many of them are there? I mean. It makes sense. There’s got to be someone coordinating so they’re not running all over the top of each other. Y’know. Like how Arsenal and I keep stepping on each others’ toes, i.e. he keeps ruining all my perfectly good set-ups and traps and then getting punched a lot when all the violence could have been avoided in the first place. Maybe for all the vigilantes you hear about, there’s even more that you don’t. I’d say they’re all related but there’s a definite theme at work. One that Arrow Dude and I don’t exactly fit into.
Also. I bet carrying on a conversation with Penny-One makes you look like a certifiable cuckoo if anyone else is watching. Kind of like one of those people who insists on walking around the grocery store talking on a bluetooth headset like some kind of grade-A tool. Only in costume. At night. Without any visible earpiece to at least have as an excuse that you’re just inconsiderate and not crazy. When Bats turns and heads back the way we came, something I don’t need any map or display to tell me since I remember the turns we took, I’m quick to follow. I’m not trying to get left down here around any compromised poop dams, that’s for sure. Safe distance or not.
“…waitwaitwait. I can’t miss my nightly asskicking. Or it turns into double asskicking with a side of sadistic throttling.”
It might be the only thing I’ve sounded semi-frantic about all night. I mean. I’ve handled jetcar rides and trudges through sewers and voices in my head that aren’t just in my head with pretty great equanimity. If. You can be equananimous while squealing with excitement and/or surprise and/or disgust anyway. So there’s a sigh of relief that I won’t be missing class. Hopefully. Now I’m not sure, but I do know that Teacher’s got a nasty mean streak. Frowning behind my mask, I put hands on my hips and wait for him to make up his mind about going up the ladder or not, and getting out of my way.
“Other costume? How many costumes are there? I’m kind of attached to this one, though.”
It’s like a better, more badass version of what I’d worked up for myself in the first place. And it’s awesomely eggplant colored.
“Which I might add I have a one hundred percent success rate of not dying in.”
Tim: “Canary will understand the importance of your first stake out, trust me.”
There is an almost grim sarcasm about it. Such as to suggest that Stephanie doesn’t quite understand the torture of what she’s in for. That half-laugh, half-warning chortle from Penny-One probably does nothing to instill confidence in her that this going to be any better than a sparring session with the Canary. One that is only marginally topped by my leaping nearly all of the way up the ladder than any normal person would need to climb. Like many things this is as much smoke and mirrors as anything else. With the micro-filament musculature in the suit augmenting my normal agility just enough that it gives the illusion of being more than just some not-legal-to-drink kid in a suit, but the very same Batman that took her father apart when she first saw him.
By the time Stephanie catches up, I’m already gathering what we need from the Batmobile. Thus giving me plenty of time to plan what I’m going to say to her in response to her own commentary. “You have a lot to learn Spoiler. A fact that people keep reminding you. Over and over. From your father, to Red Robin, to Canary and myself. In at least my case, and I would suspect Canary’s, telling you that is not some form of a rib upon your inexperience. When I say it, I mean it literally. You have a lot to learn, but you have shown me tonight that you’re capable of doing it.”
“Penny-One is someone that we all trust and he knew what I’m learning tonight, the first time he saw you. He saw the same things in me. He saw them in years ago. Red Robin, Nightwing and Red Hood. He’s seen the qualities you posses in a select few people. We all began as something else, but Penny-One was the foundation of helping us each become something more. Gaining his trust, his approval, is a like opening a gateway. Tonight, you might be Eggplant Tailfin-Girl, but that doesn’t mean it is who you will be in a week or a year.”
“That sounds far more cryptic and sarcastic than I mean it to be, but you’ll understand soon enough. You’ve taken a big step. Accepting Red Robin’s help. Canary’s training. Those things lead you here, tonight, with me. Your choices, not your Father’s, are defining you. With each new one you’re becoming something new, something better. We all faced a challenge when we first started down this road. We all changed, we all became something else. Some of us became things we didn’t want. Don’t lose sight of the aspiration to be … more… than Eggplant Tailfin-Girl.”
Whether by design or pure coincidence, I happen to finish talking just in time to also be done collecting the solvent and attaching the vial to a batarang housing. I’m about to whirl and head to the manhole cover again, when I come to a stop. That long, flowing , tapered cape rests upon my shoulders and swathes me in darkness for that moment’s hesitation. Then a single hand protrudes in offering of the batarang to her.
“Use your mask’s H.U.D. when you throw it. You’ll be able to remotely control it’s flight to one of the dams. Once you’re done. We disappear and wait, I’ll be in the Batmobile.”
STeph: “Uh huh. Yeah. I’m sure she will, but understanding doesn’t mean she won’t still make me sorry and call it a lesson in how doing the right thing in the moment can still have super, super sucky consequences, and blah, blah, blaaaaah… talking to myself again now.”
Since the Bat just took all the rungs in the ladder at the same time that might have almost made me believe he could actually fly, in the middle of my complaint/rant/whining. It’s going to happen though. I can feel it. I’m a quick enough study when I try to be, which means I’ve picked up pretty quickly on a lot of things. Like how the Black Canary is a giant fan of exploiting any and all weaknesses. Which is awesome and impressive when it’s not directed at you. Not as appreciated when she’s taking your knees out during your allotted drink break, to demonstrate how attacks can come at any time.
“Orrrr. Myself and Penny-One. That might actually be worse. No offense Penny-One.”
With a heavy sigh I start scrambling up the ladder like I can escape that particular conversation, and move past the rather ominous feeling I’d gotten from the sarcasm and laughter from the nights’ partners, both present and remote, it’s a little irritating to be left that far behind. He’s already back at the car and rummaging through God knows what is stashed in that thing. A nuke maybe. At this point I don’t think I’d even be surprised. There’s also apparently some extra volumes of lectures and sage advice in there. You have a lot to learn Spoiler. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know is what’s about to come out of my mouth, but he goes on to something that for once slows my tongue that was getting ready for a retort.
“Uhm. Huh. Well. Thanks. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said to me this month. Even with the continued mocking of the codename. But I’m giving you some wiggle room on account of how you at least properly got the color.”
I’d kind of argue that my Father’s choices have actually defined me pretty hardcore. If he wasn’t such an epic, criminal douchebag I wouldn’t be out here. That’s for sure. I don’t even have the slightest clue what I’d be doing, or who I’d be. Stephanie Brown, Honor Student! Stephanie Brown, Virtuoso Piantist Wizkid! He’s always been what he is, long as I’ve been around. And his crummy choices and ‘career moves’ have shaped everything about my family life and a whole lot about me.
“So Penny-One is the Boss. Got it.”
Flipping both my thumbs up, as I hunch my shoulders in a gesture that would probably be better if the mask wasn’t hiding the cheesy grin I’ve got going on in here. Not really a joke though. Everything about what I’ve just been told tells me that’s the truth. Even if someone else is the actual on the ground boss, or the ringleader of a crew if there’s someone that they look to for advice or approval? It means that they’re not really the one who’s ultimately in charge. And theirs is someone who clearly’s got his eye on everything if he knows all that. I’m also kind of worried they think I’m out to get more from all this than I really am. The motivation had been so simple starting out. Do I actually want more than what started all this?
For a moment, I’m standing there with my thumbs still up, looking at the batarang that’s protruding with part of an arm from that loomy cloak of his in what has to be the most awkward/weird/hilarious tableau that’s ever been seen on this street. The way I take it is almost tentative, but that’s more because I’m stopping myself from snatching it before he changes his mind like a kid going for candy in a jar. The first one. That’s the one with the least turns from here. Not that I don’t think I can pilot the thing. Remote controlled vehicles are maybe my only positive childhood memory with Arthur Brown. Doing it from a HUD may be a different animal entirely though. Which is why I actually go back to the manhole to lob it as well, leaning down in a much less impressive swirl of cape.
I’d like to brag about how I don’t ‘crash the thing even once but there were a couple near misses that somehow i’m sure he saw and I just don’t want to present an opening. Pushing up off the concrete, I dust off my gloves that don’t actually need dusting.
“Are you just going to leave the cover off or… right. Already gone. Fine, I’ll do it myself!”
Guess what kids? You know how we all know that manhole covers are freaking heavy? They feel a whole lot more weighty after you’ve watched someone else handle it like it’s nothing, even though the damn thing probably weighs not a whole lot less than I do. I mean. I get it eventually. It just feels like an embarrassingly long amount of time, before I flick the collapsing staff out and use it for leverage. Good thing it didn’t bend. I’d hate to have to ask for a new one before I’ve actually really learned to use the first one. I’m telescoping the weapon back down into it’s smaller state as I scrabble, puffing a little, into the passenger seat.
“Okay. All done. Which you … probably already know. But. Really. Um. Thanks. For what you said.”
Tim: Whether I’m watching or not is actually answered by her settling back down in to the Car. Once she’s inside the hatchway, she’ll see that there was a monitor in the car displaying the remote controlled batarang. The same sort of monitor that I would likely have seen in my cowl, like her mask. Much as the man called Penny-One was likely watching remotely. So I don’t even bother commenting on it. That would only further cement that she’s got a lot to learn. Like I said before, everyone knows that including Stephanie. There’s absolutely no purpose to beating that dead horse, other than hurting her morale. Demoralizing someone is not what I do. Maybe it’s what Bruce would have done. Testing her metal, seeing if she would bend easily or sway from her course with some discouragement.
Not me. I know how that feels. More importantly, I have a keen reminder of how it plays out if you do it to someone that’s willing to call your bluff. Maybe Stephanie wouldn’t miss her parents, but I don’t want that responsibility -or- guilt. So what do I say to the second series of thank yous in as many minutes. “You shouldn’t take it as mocking your ‘code name.’ You’ve picked a code name before you’re ready to have one. When you’re closer to the point where you are ready to be out here alone… are you going to be Spoiler then? Spoiler is who your Father made you in to, but is that who you are?”
And, perhaps most importantly, Miss. Is that who you want to be?
That slight crinkling of the cowl’s eyebrows might be suggestive of some emotion when Alfred chimes in. She doesn’t know that I’ve been where she is. Recently. Very recently, in fact. Twice over. First when Bruce asked me to return as Robin. Then when I realized that I was going to be Batman, in spite of everything I’ve ever said. Two times over I’ve made decisions about who I am, who I would be, based upon the needs of someone or someones else. I know where she is and I know where she might go next. And most importantly, I know who helped me through those times. Who guided me in the decision process.
Alfred Pennyworth.
“He’s more Jiminy Cricket, than Leader,” that grim smile returns because I can already hear him ruffling up, Must we compare me to that overblown Disney Fluff…
“Everyone you meet. Everyone you let take part in your life. As we let them, they influence us. They mold us, shape us. We are the sum of our parts, truly. Defined by those whom we bring in to our lives, if we let them. The hardest truth is one you’ve clearly learned already. We can choose to let that influence define us for good or bad. It is a measure of you, Stephanie, that your Father’s influence has brought you here. Instead of somewhere far, far darker.”
“That measure? Is something you should carry with you for the rest of your life. Because if he. This man who is your life-blood. Your Father. If he did not break you down, did not make you in to something vile and contemptible like himself. If your own Father could not make you in to something Evil? Then who can?”
“Once you accept that. Truly accept that. What’s a little beating by Canary or heckling by Red Robin? What can anyone do to you that can break you, when the Cluemaster hasn’t succeeded and he’s had your whole life.” This life-talk, coaching session or whatever it is, comes to a small half when I fire the engine of the car back up. Another half-second later the vehicle is rolling to life and pulling in to the secluded shadows of an alleyway across from the Office we came to at first. “At any rate, you don’t need to thank me, Stephanie. Everything I’ve said, you already knew. You just wanted someone else to confirm it.”
“Now. The car has a light refracting exterior that can be turned on in a simulation of a… cloak. We may here a while, but this monitor here is from a thumb camera that I put in the alcove. You should nap, while we wait, I don’t sleep very much.”
Steph: What the heck is going on tonight? I mean, seriously. This is like an After-School Special and a Parental Intervention all rolled into one, only I’m having it with Batmanand Penny-One. Neither of whom seems to be playing Bad Cop which is a lot more how I personally would have guessed this would have gone. Guess the Bad Cops are back at the hideout tonight. I’ve ended up pressed more and more back into the passenger seat, body tilted slightly to the side and away from the person I’m eyeballing sideways like I’m questioning who the hell they are, and what they’ve done with…well. Batman. Maybe in hindsight that’s not actually a question I want answered since Batman is supposed to be dead, and I know of a lot of people who’d be pretty confused to find out that’s not the actual truth.
“It was that or introduce myself by actual name. Which you guys all found out with apparently zero difficulty so I guess I could have just led with it instead of making up something on the spot.”
Still. I like the name, and think it’s pretty darn appropriate. I’m probably spoiling someone’s night right now! It’s an important question though, am I going to be Spoiler whenever this ends? I had a really clear goal and purpose in mind, and that comes with a finish line to chase. When and if I manage to cross that, what then? The plan was just to go back to being Stephanie at that point. This wasn’t exactly a long term career choice.
“That sounds like something someone who’s not really the boss would say about someone that is the boss.”
The smirk is evident in my tone of voice, even if it’s hidden by my face mask as I wriggle my hips to settle a bit more comfortably in the seat now that I’m no longer eyeing him like some sort of weird batbug that I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with, or where it came from. I’m pretty sure I didn’t expect to be getting kudos for not turning into a supervillain or something similar yet. I had pretty lame examples when it came to parents, and my father was gone more than he was around. Just enough to make me hate him and everything he wanted.
“Oh, I know they’re not going to break me. Hold up. That sounded waaaaaay cockier than I actually meant for it to. I mean. That’s not a concern for me. It might hurt a whole helluva lot, but there’s a big difference between smarting and broke. When your Dad is someone who goes by Cluemaster you kind of learn to grow a thick skin. Kids are assholes.”
You also learn how to duck punches and answer them with a really solid left when said other kid had a parent who also was in jail thanks to something your own idiot parent had gotten them to do. Just look at all these life skills I have him to thank for. Not that I ever would. I’m not sure that I was really looking for validation but… maybe I was. I didn’t start this looking for some back patting, or even people to go in with, but it’s hard not to want to be on the level of the people that you see out here doing this and doing it well.
“Uh. Nap? Are you kidding? I had a caramel dead-eye less than an hour ago. There will be noo-o-oooo napping.”
Because when a double espresso just isn’t enough to keep you up and kicking on not a whole lot of sleep, you go for a third! Admittedly two would probably have been sufficient. Or maybe even going without. Adrenaline is a helluva drug, honestly. Still. Just in case. But perky and chattery as I may be, dense I am not. Somehow I think ‘nap’ might be keyword for we’re going to be here a while, shut up and don’t bother me. So I dig in my belt for my phone.
“…yeah, okay I’ll be over here playing Angry Birds.”
