Author's Note: Well, I suppose I should set up a time frame for this puppy before we begin now, shouldn't I? This medium-sized tale takes place in the month between Chapters #15 and #16 of The Misfits, a delightful series that I highly recommend reading. Because of the magic of controlling this timeline, The Misfits' roster now currently consists of Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Lloyd Thomas, Kara Zor-el, and a still-undercover Noah Kuttler. In other words, you're not going to be seeing any former Teen Titans or Young Justicers in this yarn. That being said, I've got some, well, less distinguished heroes to help pick up their slack.
This one's for Leigh, Ryan, and SpiritHellfire for giving me some great ideas about one-shots. Granted, this isn't a one shot but, hey, I'm guessing you guys knew that I couldn't stay away from episodic storytelling for long.
And now, without further a due, Matt the Batman fan presents. . .
How to Meet New People
Chapter One
A Matter of Birds and Stones
Day One - The Batcave – 3:23 P.M. Eastern Standard Time
Lloyd Thomas could nearly hear his vertebrae screaming a horrible protest tune as they and the rest of him helped him descend down the staircase. The surrounding aching muscles also made their issues felt with each and every movement, his usually compliant, powerful body apparently choosing to unite as one to remonstrate what they all considered to be a horrific proposition Of course, the vigilante known as The Black Dog knew that his frame had the right to complain, particularly given the fact that, not twenty-four hours ago, his body had been essentially drug across a sizeable majority of Franklin Mountain State Park at roughly one-and-a-half times the speed of sound. Indeed, his recent brawl with the supernatural force of nature known as The Spectre, a conflict that unwilling carried him throughout much of El Paso before he managed to help break the spirit of vengeance free from its hypnosis, had left Lloyd in a state of physical and psychological exhaustion that he had only now just begun to recover from.
That being said, Lloyd was beginning to think that the worst of the surrounding, niggling sensations and thoughts that continued to pester him was something that he hadn't given the least bit of thought to during his hunt for The Scarab of the Blue Beetle. The sordid thoughts had sunk its claws into him well before then but the fact remained that the damage hadn't really managed to make its presence felt until he spent the last 22 hours bedridden while recovering from his wounds. Yes, nearly 150 nights of battle and training and assignments and recovery and the overall humdrum of being a crime fighter was officially beginning to catch up with the British assassin. He had hoped that the problem would somewhat ease away upon his arrival in Gotham but now it seemed that every shy smile, sly smirk, or flirtatious comment thrown his way by some of the city's more eye-catching members of the fairer sex had finally molded together to form something that couldn't be denied.
The Black Dog officially felt boxed in.
Or horny. The exact definition probably depended upon his mood and the sensibilities of those who perceived it.
Now, given that he was supposed to be a half-demon warrior of nearly boundless discipline and skill, Lloyd supposed that he might feel a bit ashamed that the temptation for fulfilling one of his basest instincts was something that had grown into a potential distraction in his line of work. Mao had certainly taught him better than that, after all. Of course, he was also a 19-year-old male and that aspect of his personal makeup had the tendency to occasionally override even the strictest of teachings and the purest of intentions. He thought he had reached his lowest point during a long night nearly two months ago when he felt momentarily tempted to give a ring to the Turkish harem that he and Scandal had helped free from a demonic invasion several years ago. After all, they did say that they would be eternally grateful.
But then, on the way down here, he caught himself looking at Stephanie's ass.
The mere thought of being brought down to such a sad, pathetic level still forced him to shudder.
"Um. . . Lloyd, right? Are you okay?"
Oh, he did not need this right now. It was ridiculous how much he didn't need to see what was in front of him.
He had to admit that he didn't know as much as he would have liked about the newest member of their shadow ops squad. In fact, the only thing that he really knew about Kara Zor-el in the present time was that she was sitting (cross-legged, oh bloody hell) in the chair placed near the trio of Cray supercomputers that dominated the bulk of the main chamber. The fact that she wasn't in her Supergirl costume was nothing short of a godsend but the khaki shorts the fair-haired super heroine was wearing in its stead didn't exactly make things a great deal easier for him. They ended several inches above the knees under the best of circumstances but Kara's current state of sitting left her long, slightly muscular, coltish legs, inches upon inches of what were quickly becoming slightly tanned perfection in Lloyd's distracted perspective, to be revealed to his roving, apparently shameless eyes.
"Hey, uh. . . Are you sick or something?"
Lloyd finally managed to snap back, his hazel eyes almost ripping themselves away from the ridiculously pleasing sight as he shook his head back and forth. Had he been capable of doing so, the boy known as The Black Dog could have possibly noticed the slight blush on Kara's cheeks and the timid smile that poked out from underneath the Kryptonian's lips as she watched his hair flop back and forth with his movement. However, fate had promptly decided to throw the half-blood one of its familiar middle fingers and his usually strong sights failed to catch a hint of it.
"Soooooo," Lloyd began, the crime fighter determined to keep his eyes locked on whatever Kara was looking at on the monitor. "What 'cha doin', pet?"
"Oh, uh," Kara replied with equal conversational cleverness, the awkwardness now almost tangible within The Batman's personal headquarters. "I'm checkin' out this website. I think Stephanie called it, uh, 4chan or somethin'? She said that it might help me learn more about pop culture and stuff."
"Huh." The combination of his sudden shyness and the completely understandable hesitation that came with the thought of Stephanie Brown placing herself in charge of introducing an alien to Earth's customs was proving to be more than enough to lower his IQ into the low teens. "Well, I'm gonna, take a looksee on Batman. See what's. . ." Lloyd swung his arms forward and back as he struggled to complete the seemingly monumental task of finishing a sentence. "Goin' on with him."
"Okay."
The speed with which Kara poured into swerving her chair back so she could face the main monitor was so significant that the plastic wheels threatened to make an indentation on the stone floor beneath it. The audible squeeeeak that sounded out through the tall cavern sounded phenomenally sharp to Lloyd, so much so that he was nearly tempted to teleport to his latest intended destination (be it the small cavern on the western end of the catacombs or the center of The Arctic Ocean, he wasn't sure of which right now). However, in the time it took to finish the debate, The Black Dog managed to marshal his discipline and make his way towards where he originally intended to go in the first place.
On the bright side, the continued grievances his body was more than ready to file against him seemed decidedly less significant now.
Lloyd let out a long breath as he finally arrived at his stop, his hazel eyes quick to pick up the presence of a man who looked as if he were the vessel of a soul wrapped within all the comfort a peaceful mind could provide. However, the gift of telepathy bequeathed to him by the power of The Condemner allowed Lloyd to uncover a decidedly different side of this unmoving story. In fact, the palpable aura of strain that currently clung to Bruce Wayne was little more than a psychic fingerprint, the combined stressors of the ongoing friction between him and Jason Todd and the escalating conflict between The Secret Society and The Justice League still rumbling in the forefront of Batman's mind as he tried his best to restore peace to his troubled psychological landscape.
As for the rest of what Lloyd was sensing from his commanding officer, well, perhaps it would be best to finish this description by recognizing the wisdom in The Black Dog's decision to remain quiet as Bruce Wayne turned his eyes towards him. The combination of The Dark Knight of Gotham and the presence of such lingering, squalid notions would have been little more than an affront to a good man's dignity.
"I've got a mission for you."
Lloyd couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in interest, the borrowed mental image of a decidedly naked Dinah Laurel Lance quickly making its exit. "Don't suppose this assignment doesn't have anythin' to do with findin' a little filly to sort my baggage out, does it?"
The annoyed Batglare fired back at him was a bit for The Black Dog to weather but he managed to endure it as Bruce rose to his feet.
"As loathe as I am to say it, you may very well have that opportunity," Batman replied, the words bringing a cautious but definitive smile to the face of the British assassin. "You will read the attached, digital dossier within your file folder in the central computer in order to properly brief yourself on the objectives. Alfred will be responsible for answering any further questions or conducting any more preparations you may need in terms of proper attire."
Lloyd pursed his lips as he considered the potential meanings behind Batman's words, his tired body still leaning against the doorframe even as Bruce left the room and starting making his way up to his bedchambers. "Don't suppose that I kin invite a lady of my own to whatever high-end shindig we happen to be raidin' tonight?"
Bruce replied with a long sigh as if the older crime fighter couldn't believe that he was being asked to devote more time to his current enterprise. "I can consider the option so long as this woman is able to maintain a solid cover, is willing to keep quiet on the true intentions of our mission, and is not Stephanie."
The Black Dog fired a wry smile at Bruce's back. "No worries, boss. Already got somebody who fits all three of those descriptions. In fact, I think you might like her."
The House of Secrets – 2:17 P.M. Pacific Standard Time
Scandal Savage had long hoped that there would never come the day when she would be counting the minutes before she could take another aspirin. Her temples let out an angry pulse as she spun the bottle of Advil back, her eyes determined to yet again read the instructions posted there in the vain hope that she could change the wording of the instructions by sheer force of will. Tragically, the bitter, blue-green letters informing her of the health consequences of taking another of those wonderful orange caplets over the course of the next two hours refused to respond to her bidding.
I'm an immortal who has regrown twelve kidneys and fifteen lungs, the leader of The Secret Six morosely mused to herself while letting the small bottle tumble from her grip. So how come I can't hold off a god damned migraine? she asked as the plastic container slowly rolled across the table before landing on the carpet below with a muffled thump.
She was damn certain that she hadn't asked for any of this. It was pretty obvious to her that she had grown more than comfortable with a life of luxury with the occasional altruistic measure thrown in just so she could keep her karma levels steady. Now, however, she was bravely investigating the doings of The Secret Society at the wishes of Mao Tenryu while doing what she could to protect the life of one of her younger descendants. While the first good deed was something that she could stave onto the wisdom of keeping within the good graces of one of the world's preeminent power players, the second endeavor remained to be a task that could not be falsely explained away so easily.
She gained nothing by ensuring the safety of Lian Harper. As a matter of fact, the sheer frustration wrought by looking after the girl's disgusting excuse of a mother had quickly become far more than a simple pet peeve.
The mercenary was almost ready to snatch up the bottle from off the floor and read the instructions once again before her ears were assaulted. Her eyes also managed to deliver a fresh delivery of pain as she caught the sight of the stringy, red hair and the black-and-white checkered pattern of the outfit worn by the owner of the high and dandy voice that was currently doing a fine job of piercing through her cranium.
"Greetings and salutations, O Ye Fair Maiden of Villainous Middle Management," Peter Merkel Jr. said in greetings with a tone that nearly caused Scandal's eyes to cross in agony. The accompanying cartwheels and somersaults that the disturbing contortionist threw into his welcome hardly did her any favors either as the few seconds she unwillingly spent in watching all the motion made her momentarily queasy.
"What can I do for you, Ragdoll?" Scandal finally asked, surprised by her own patience.
Ragdoll responded to the dour words with a curious tilt of his head, the gesture allowing the left side of his head to dip well below his shoulder blades. "I was merely hoping to inquire about the pet policy of this cheerfully gothic manor," he went on while moving to sit on his haunches, the tasteful chairs sitting right beside him being decidedly ignored.
"Pet policies?" Scandal parroted back while running her hands through her short, curly brown hair, her mind quite alive with all the disturbing possibilities.
"Oh, yes," Ragdoll replied, the cheery murderer not looking the least bit offended by the sarcasm laced in his leader's voice. "You see, I must confess that I have taken quite a liking to this new domicile, muchly in thanks to your charming presence, might I add, and now I would like to take the steps needed to add some of my own flair and panache to the proceedings. Perchance you could inform me on if and where I may be able to get a hold of some monkeys?"
"DON'T HURT THE CLOWN!!!!!"
The former employee and student of Mao Tenryu was quite grateful that she suddenly didn't have the time to properly respond to Ragdoll's request. On the other hand, the raucous interruption also managed to intensify the pain bouncing around her skull through a three-pronged attack. The first shot, of course, originated from the sheer volume of the bellowing coming from the most physically imposing member of her squad while the realization that she was soon to be confronted with another troublesome situation that she would have to defuse seemed to prefer taking potshots at her sanity from a safe distance. Finally, as if the gods were now choosing to actively punish her for one of her many past misdeeds, the sound of a door slamming and the following angry clack of spiked high heels added to the cacophony as Scandal was confronted by yet another unwanted presence.
"One of the few things that I requested upon joining your team was that I be allowed my privacy," growled Jade Nguyen, the Oriental assassin and poisons expert more commonly known as Cheshire looking repulsed by the mere notion that she would have to ask for assistance. "Now I ask you to give me one reason why I shouldn't sell the lot of you to The Society and take my leave of you fools at the first possible opportunity?"
How about the fact that your own daughter might be killed? Scandal replied within her own mind while repressing the urge to rip the narcissistic gleam out of the eyes of the exotic murderess. Indeed, the threat directed at Cheshire and made by the enigmatic figure known to them only as Mockingbird, the entity that Mao had steered her towards in order to help her get a leg up on putting a dent into The Secret Society's actions, should have been more than enough to prevent Nguyen from even thinking of betraying the team. Unfortunately, it had quickly become obvious to Scandal that it would be up to her to ensure the safety of Jade's daughter and her descendent. Biting back her hypothesis that the woman in front of her might very well get them all killed, the daughter of Vandal Savage finally decided to return to the role of the professional.
"And just what are you complaining about, Miss Nguyen?"
As if on cue, another of her teammates finally managed to make his way into her quarters. However, despite the fact that the alien had almost shattered her eardrums with his previous bawling, Scandal had to admit that Parademon was a far more welcome sight than either Cheshire or Ragdoll. Sporting ashy, gray skin and a muscular frame that was mostly hidden from sight thanks to his green-and-yellow body armor, the unflinching loyalty of the former soldier of Darkseid had been a breath of fresh air in contrast to Cheshire's bald-faced deceit and the downright disgusting behavior of both Deadshot and Ragdoll. There was a look of almost fearful innocence in the creature's gleaming yellow eyes as Cheshire let out a warning hiss while pointing an accusatory finger at him.
"This thing was rooting through my personal effects," Cheshire practically screeched in response to Scandal's previous question. "Do you see me sneaking into the quarters of these freaks and searching their clothes? Scandal, I demand that you do something about this insult, lest you wish for me to do it in your stead."
"Oh, dear. It appears that I may be at fault for this grievous misunderstanding." Ragdoll interceded before Scandal could express her own frustrations, the freak's heavily scarred countenance looking more than a little miffed. "You see, Parademon was accompanying me while I was discussing the possibilities of dressing up what I hope to be my future primate companions as a way of honoring my newfound human comrades. However, it appears that my dear, simplistic friend, out of misplaced loyalty, simply chose to take matters into his own hands. My dearest apologies, Miss Cheshire."
Scandal almost breathed a sigh of relief as Cheshire redirected her rage towards the rubbery monkey aficionado. Quite frankly, the urge to wipe the smug look off of the raven-haired woman's face with help from the nearby brick wall had almost become too much for her to endure.
"And just why would you choose to 'honor' me so, you fetid miscreant?"
"Well, I realize that you might believe that the two of us have gotten off on the wrong foot, thanks in no small part to your attempts to poison my Jello supply not one week ago." Ragdoll countered with a calm shrug of his shoulders. "However, I merely wanted to assure you that I take no offense and that I would like to do what I could to pay proper tribute to our recent alliance."
Scandal could almost feel her head exploding as Cheshire mercifully stalked her way out of her office chambers. Ragdoll followed in hot pursuit, the dandy man of The Secret Six continuing to explain the societal virtues of dressing up monkeys as they went. Stooping down for a second in order to swoop up the previously discarded bottle of Advil, she quickly unscrewed the lid and downed three of them with a single swallow before realizing that she still had a guest.
"Yes, Parademon?" she asked before letting out a tired breath.
The slow fidgeting and naive hemming that Parademon was pulling himself through made the auburn-haired mercenary almost immediately regret her previous harshness. She did her best to look understanding as the former Apokolips native summoned the courage to speak.
"You will not. . . hurt the clown, will you?"
Scandal couldn't help but let out a sigh. "No, I will not hurt the clown," she responded with a wry smile.
"Good," Parademon said simply before displaying a wide smile, his gleaming upper fangs easily visible below the creature's thin lips. "Miss Scandal, may I pull out Poison Lady's liver if shehurts the clown?"
"Sounds good to me," Scandal answered with hardly a second thought, the trilling of her cell phone managing to restore at least an ounce of her sanity. "Hold on, Parademon, I need to take this. Hello?"
"'Ello, big sis," Lloyd said in greetings, the West London lilt prompting Scandal to shut her eyes and let out a relieved smile. "Got an offer fer you that you kin refuse but I hope you won't."
Day Two - Wayne Manor 1st Floor Day Room – 11:05 A.M. Eastern Standard Time
Lloyd's low whistling of Irving Berlin's Steppin' Out With My Baby continued to drag on while he made some final adjustments to the tie he had just finished wrapping up with the aid of the pointers Mao had given him back when he was 13 years old. Running the fingertips of his left hand over the line of red silk hanging just below his neck, he continued his musical pursuits while roving over the image that the mirror in front of him was willing to present. Taking a moment to battle back the sudden urge to find a top hat, the British mercenary examined his suit shirt and tuxedo and found himself quickly satisfied with what he saw. Alfred may have had a point when he said that the tie may have been a little much, particularly given the stark blacks and whites of the stylish but classic suit but The Black Dog soon decided that he would take the risk. He finally concluded his preparations by making a quick check of the vanishing charm he had placed on the Mugalshir, the gleaming, silver saber strapped to his back, before turning around in order to be appraised by the two other denizens of the sun- dappled chambers.
"Well, if only the tailors could do something about your dearth of musical aptitude," Alfred began as the gentleman began to stride forward. Just as Lloyd had expected, the butler and caretaker of Wayne Manor was quick to conduct a closer inspection of his tie and jacket for any potential miscues and immediately began to loosen the former so he could make his own last-second adjustments. "However, I suppose that this shall be passable for this evening's affairs."
"Ta for the support, Jeeves," Lloyd fired back with a smirk.
Alfred replied with a distracted nod as he prepared the younger of his two projects to meet his nearly peerless standards. "That being said, Master Thomas, I find myself astonished that you would wish to engage in such a trivial exercise, particularly given your past refusals to engage in the many public functions here at the manor."
"This is not merely a charity function or a ceremonial ball," Bruce Wayne growled back in Lloyd's defense, the older vigilante already dreading the moment when Alfred would turn his appraising eyes towards him. "This is the coming together of some of the most powerful heads of state the world over in order to celebrate the transaction of nearly $50 billion into some of Earth's emptiest coffers. The European Union, NATO, and nearly a dozen unaffiliated nations are doing their best to claim credit for the philanthropy and they'll be coming to Istanbul to take one final shot at it."
"So I have heard and anticipated," Alfred replied as he finally pulled away from his fellow Brit, the former Interpol agent now satisfied with Lloyd's appearance. "And you consider this to be the most appropriate venue in which to discuss professional matters with Master Kuttler?"
Bruce resisted the urge to pointlessly glare at Alfred as the refined gentleman checked his jacket for wrinkles and his tie for messy loops. After all, he had nearly forty years to learn that such efforts to stop the determined butler would only be met with failure and a frustratingly prolonged evaluation. "Not all information can trade hands through communication and computer links, old man," the detective retorted while willing himself through the scrutiny. "This will also allow me the opportunity to further establish Bruce Wayne's position as a global player as well as further establish The Black Dog as a current agent in Gotham to those who would be smart enough to stay away from his presence."
"Welllllll, I say that having two dudes show up in the middle of a Turkish palace will still ask more questions than it answers."
The three gentlemen in the room did their best not to look annoyed as Stephanie Brown bounded into the room. They even continued to watch silently as the fair-haired Gothamite pitched herself into an effortless cartwheel before twisting her body through a flawless double somersault that allowed her to land butt-first down onto the seat of a nearby leather recliner with a mighty whump!. Alfred found that he had to try particularly hard not to cinch or seethe at Robin while he calculated the time and capital that would be needed to potentially fix the piece of furniture that the young Green Lantern had giddily pounced on. Of course, that temptation nearly broke into a barely tempered rage as Stephanie swung her boot-clad feet on top of the nearby oak table, the bright smile on her face a clear sign that she knew what she was doing and was glad to be doing it.
"Now are ya sure you guys don't want to let me in on this little shindig?" Robin asked while continuing to pester her targets. "'Cause, just between me, you guys, and the walls, I'm
not certain if you two'll be able to pull this off without a charming lady by your side."
Lloyd's noisy coughing managed to rise up over both the sound of Alfred's impatient tutting and the intensity of Bruce's pointed Batglare. "Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized while drumming his right palm against his chest. "Swore I could 'ave heard Tweety call herself charming. Cor, almost swallowed me tongue that time."
"Oh, don't start thinking that you're clever all of a sudden," Stephanie fired back. "At least with me Bruce doesn't have to worry about somebody getting so excited that they'll make wee-wee on the carpet, Puppy," the former street urchin added while almost spitting out the nickname she had bequeathed to her comrade.
"Wot's that now?" The Black Dog asked in a rather cocky matter, the older of the two debaters realizing that he had that advantage and finding himself more than happy to exploit it. "Again, I'm just really distracted today. I was just thinkin' back to last year's Yule Ball when ya tossed ya cookies into the courtyard fountain. While under the influence of the punch that you yourself spiked, no less."
"That's enough," Bruce finally snapped, the usually patient leader finally tired of all the bickering. "Robin, we already have someone accompanying us in your place. Someone who is more than capable of completing whatever objectives that I would have asked of you."
"Yeah, I've heard all about her from Lloyd Boy here," Stephanie replied in opposition while indistinctly waving her right hand somewhere close to Lloyd's direction. "However, there's nooooo way that this Savage lady has got the style and skills I bring to the table."
"Perhaps not," Bruce attested while sporting his usual half-smirk. "However, I'm finding her proven ability to keep a low profile to suddenly be phenomenally enticing."
"Booooooo," Stephanie fired back with a childish pout, her arms quickly crossing over her chest as she radiated her frustration. "Fine then," she went on while leaping back to her feet. "No doubt I'm too smexy for that for that high-fallutin' popsicle stand anyway," she assured both them and herself as she flounced out of the room in her usual, vibrant manner.
As was often the case when she was not around to see him, Alfred responded to Stephanie's actions with an extravagant roll of his eyes. "I cravenly hope that the both of you realize that you have essentially placed that madwoman under my care," the butler noted as he finally finished adjusting Bruce's hair. "The sheer dread that comes with such a pursuit would prompt most people to ask for a significant raise."
"Ah, there's nothin' to worry about, Jeeves," Lloyd replied in an attempt to assure the rightfully dismayed older gentleman. "Knowin' Tweety, the chit'll probably find her own way of entertaining 'erself. Stay out of her way and I'm sure you'll be fine."
Mister Pennyworth took another handful of seconds to give the two well-dressed gentleman a final inspection. Pleased with his findings, he then turned his aged eyes back over to Lloyd and gave The Black Dog a meaningful look.
"I suppose that one can only hope, Master Lloyd."
8:22 A.M. – Pacific Standard Time
Thomas Blake had never come to appreciate all that could be learned from becoming the hunted. Perhaps that was just a consequence of the five years spent watching his skills, his livelihood fall apart at the hands of his own indifference and laziness. However, despite the ideological and spiritual rebirth that he experienced in the jungles of the Congo, he still could not fully eliminated the insecurity and lingering paranoia he felt as he paced back and forth across the room like a proud but nervous member of the pride that helped him restore his soul. Instead, the mercenary once again known as Catman tried to take comfort in some of the more comfortable of those past memories, his attempted recollections of the sights and scents of the savannah. He remembered the smell of his sweat coursing down his forehead and sliding down his nose as he sprawled within the tall grass after a long run, thought back to how his thoughts seemed to stretch in front of his eyes as he and his fellow hunters awaited the proper time to strike.
But there was nothing to attack here. He had willingly walked into this ridiculously open trap and now there was nothing left to do but to await the consequences of his foolishness.
"All right. Here I come. How do I look?"
Despite the firm knowledge that he knew this was coming, Blake still had a hard time summoning up the words that had apparently chosen to lodge themselves somewhere within his throat. Part of it, almost thankfully, had to do with the fact that Scandal (his apparent boss, he reminded himself) looked absolutely gorgeous. The elegant, sleeveless black dress that began at the middle of her neck and kept going until bottoming out just inches above her ankles suited her nicely both in body and in spirit. Other than the hint of skin, bone, and muscle between the hem of the dress and her short-heeled dress shoes, the only parts of her skin revealed to the open eye was her long, nimble arms and her slender but sharp face. It would have been difficult for many to see the true power in her now, especially seeing that so little of her was on display, but 20 years of being both predator and prey allowed him to see that there was a truly dangerous woman behind all the subtle beauty.
Most importantly, it was a far cry from the ruthlessly straightforward splendor that Cheshire had offered to him for the last two weeks. Despite the fact that he had chosen to take the woman up on her offers more often than not, even someone as emotionally starved as Blake realized that he hadn't picked the sanest way reintroducing himself to the outside world.
"How's your headache?"
Not to mention that the question that poured out of his lips provided as good an explanation as any to why the most meaningful relationship he's had with a woman in the past decade is with a horny Chinese assassin. Gratefully, Scandal seemed to weather the awkward query with a patient smile as she slowly turned herself around.
"I'm just fine, Thomas," she replied softly while revealing her back to her extraordinarily cautious prey. "Especially now that I'll be able to get out of all of this for just one night. Could you zip me?"
As she waited for him by following his slow footsteps, the daughter of Vandal Savage almost found it hard to believe that the ridiculously cautious, nervous fellow was the same, menacing huntsman who tore into whatever physically opposed him with a precise and calculated fury. Although there were certainly more colorful characters currently occupying the so-called House of Secrets, she had to admit that it was Thomas Blake that intrigued her the most. Maybe it was just the fact that the muscular red-head was trying so hard to keep his thoughts under wraps or that he still didn't realize just what he could be capable of but the fact of the matter was that she had come to appreciate the struggles that Catman was going through. She knew that it took a unique kind of courage to take on both the conflicts that confronted you face on while searching for the skirmishes that loomed in the darker parts of the mind and struck at their leisure.
"Are you sure that you're not going to blow your cover by doing this?" Catman asked over the sound of the zipper he slid up from Scandal's lower back up to the nape of her neck. "I mean, there's going to be a lot of powerful people there, right?"
Scandal first busied herself by letting out a breath, her short, auburn hair waving back and forth as she shook her head to and fro. "I'm hardly going in there alone, Thomas. As a matter of fact, I couldn't ask for better protection than what I've already got waiting for me."
"That's, um, that's not what I mean." Blake cautiously replied, his right hand seemingly destined to reach back and scratch the back of his head as the rest of him took in his own ill at ease behavior. Scandal, in response, let out a throaty laugh as she tried not to take too much enjoyment in her colleague's shufflings.
"You know, most people wouldn't object to an elegant night on the town." Even if you're being accompanied by your little brother and what she was quickly believing to be the world's preeminent stick in the mud, Scandal added to herself.
"Guess I've never really been comfortable with it myself," Blake finally confessed, the amazingly unsurprising declaration drawing an exaggerated eyebrow raise from his audience. "Even when I was going after Batman or Green Arrow and I would try to get the drop on them at one of those posh functions. Maybe it just scratches at my skin, is all."
"Well, after our first meeting in Zaire, I must admit that you did look a great deal more comfortable without any clothing," Scandal sardonically offered, the unwilling blush she drew from Blake's tanned cheeks nearly tempting her to laugh. "Perhaps the problem lies in the dress policy."
"Well, lady, I wouldn't mind one bit if you decided to follow suit," fired back a far more guileless fellow, the mustachioed marksman quickly drawing attention to himself with his usual careless air. "Sure as hell would beat seein' Catty's hairy ass again while I'm goin' to get a late-night beer."
The two calmer mercenaries slowly turned to regard the presence of their uninvited guest. Of course, Floyd Lawton was usually not one to turn away from such attention, the black-haired marksman calmly countering the wicked glares with a long drag from the cigar trapped between his lips. "Sure I can't come to this little soiree, boss? I mean, when I think about all that free booze that's gonna be wasted if I'm not there. . ."
"Yes, I'm certain that it will be an unmitigated travesty," Scandal said in an impassive counter while giving Thomas a light tap on the shoulder. "On the other hand, given my position as leader of this little band of miscreants, it would be foolish of me not to remember the last time you attended a public function and recall how well that turned out for us."
"Hey, I told you that it wasn't my fault," Lawton replied with a blasé shrug of his shoulders. "I mean, what else do you expect me to do when some little narrow-eyed punk recognizes me and tries to hunt me down with an AK-47?"
"An argument that, shockingly enough, failed to reap us favor during the tribunal at the Chinese embassy," Scandal coolly replied as she made her way out of her own room. "You're in charge in my absence, Thomas."
"HEY!" Deadshot yelped, the unexpected effort causing a hint of ash to drop from the tip of his cigar and land on the once-clean carpet. "Why the hell does Captain Litterbox get to be in charge? I've got seniority!"
"The wonders of process of elimination, Mister Lawton," Scandal replied without missing a beat, her slim, right hand gently patting Deadshot twice on his adjacent cheek as she passed him by.
Istanbul – 9:22 P.M.
Once the home of some of the most prominent sultans in the history of The Ottoman Empire, the Topkapi Palace has managed to maintain its status as an architectural wonder for nearly five-and-a-half centuries. Though it has long since been transformed into little more than a museum due to the political aftermath of World War I, the enormous complex overlooking the Golden Horn and the Sea of Marmara still draws beauty from the rich blues of the Bosporus River that runs alongside and underneath, the peaceful waters beautifully contrasting themselves with the lush greenery within the palace's courtyards and the gleaming, pure-white walls bordering them. Despite the stout presence of the Turkish military posted around and outside the many squares bordering the main palace, the surrounding symbols of a once proud empire torn apart by its attempts to claim everything the world had to offer still had proven themselves to be gifted storytellers to those who chose to listen.
Scandal briefly wondered if Bruce Wayne has or would ever learn such a lesson as she watched Batman and his companion make their way towards her. Of course, such thoughts were quickly shoved away as she broke into a brisk walk in order to intercept her little brother. She couldn't help chuckling as The Black Dog wrapped her up in a tight embrace, pleasantly surprised that Lloyd would be so eager to display his emotions given his long history of reticence. She would have been blind to realize, even just with a cursory glance, that this new life was a good fit for the boy she once reluctantly took under her wing.
"Shrew, you look lovely," Lloyd told her shortly before pecking her on the cheek with a quick, chaste kiss.
"Yes, well, you'll pardon me if I'm a little slow to return the sentiment. I've always found that men have a far easier time when it comes to making themselves look good," Scandal calmly countered while looking both Bruce and Lloyd over. "Honestly, gentlemen, all you have to do is put on a tux, some black dress shoes, and suddenly everyone thinks that you're fit for the finest of occasions."
"Well, I don't write the rules, young lady," Bruce replied with a wide smile, the transformation from brooding vigilante to billionaire playboy already beginning. "I just benefit from them."
"So I see," Scandal said while taking in the slight look of concern on Lloyd's face. Keeping her own curiosity in check, she offered her right hand to the man who had formally invited her to serve as his guest for the evening. "Mister Wayne, I must confess my shock that it's taken so long for us to meet given our. . . many connections."
"Then I suppose I must offer my sincerest apologies," Bruce said smoothly while accepting Scandal's gesture, his rough lips briefly brushing across her wrist before examining the rest of her body with a blatantly charmless leer. "Goodness knows I never like to keep a gorgeous woman waiting for me."
Somewhat compelled to continue the game, the leader of The Secret Six let out a well-practice chuckle while catching the barely noticeable flicker of suspicion in the detective's eyes. "Pardon me for being blunt, Mister Wayne, but I'm afraid that I am off the market in terms of your respective gender. I'm afraid that I've never had a great deal of tolerance for men and the issues they create for themselves by proving their supposed manhood."
"Well, I must admit that I'm sorry to hear that," Bruce answered back, the 40-year-old socialite easily enduring the harsh glare that Lloyd was throwing back at him. "I don't suppose that your distaste for us has come about due to some unsatisfying sexual encounter. . ."
"You realize that I can tell everybody in this room who you are," Lloyd interrupted with a low growl, the younger vigilante eager to place himself back in the conversation despite the almost paralyzing fear he felt as he took this all in. "Just a brief telepathic wave would be all that it would take. Just tell everybody that you leap up and off th' rooftops wearin' black undies. . ."
Bruce responded to the potentially menacing warning with a merry laugh that startled not only Lloyd and Scandal but also many of the other guests making their way into the hall through Gulhane Park. "Well, I suppose that asking you to explain more might be a little embarrassing," the supposed bumbling gossiper finally realized while giving Scandal another once over. "I tell you what, my dear. Seeing as how you're unavailable, I think I'll just leave you in the care of my bodyguard here. I don't want anybody getting the wrong idea, after all."
Scandal was reasonably certain that, given time, she could have come up with a somewhat appropriate reply but her victorious opponent was already walking away before she even knew where to start. Bruce Wayne, the human train wreck whose blunders had graced the gossip pages of news rags around the world, was already doing what he apparently did best. A handful of possessive fathers had already moved to draw closer to their wives and/or daughters by the time Gotham's favorite son weaved his way into the palace proper, the offer to buy everyone a round of drinks from what was already an open bar already spilling from his lips.
"Are you all right?" Scandal asked with more than a little caution, her right hand slowly grasping Lloyd's completely slack left shoulder.
Lloyd shook his head back and forth while tightly shutting his eyes. "Still the most bloody frightening thing I've ever seen," he professed as he quickly pulled himself together. "Honestly, and I thought Mao was bad whenever he pretended to dip a little too much into the rice wine."
"Well, to be fair," Scandal considered while looping her arm with Lloyd's as they began to walk side-by-side, "Mao still had to make everybody certain that he could still make these people a whole lot of money. I suppose Mister Wayne doesn't have to deal with such things."
"Mao never blew up an Amazo robot with a Thangaarian energy charger and a packet of C-4," Lloyd answered back as the light generated by the overhead torches seemed to reveal a great deal more of the gentle smile provided to him by the woman on his arm. "I swear, he'd scar a lot more punks and vagabonds if he wandered into a crime scene actin' like that. Still, I suppose I should thank 'im for givin' me the opportunity to see you again."
"It has been a while, hasn't it?" The soft reply was nearly drowned out by the combination of the surrounding chatter and the music being played by the house band in the southwestern corner of the hall. "Still, I suppose we can take heart in the fact that we've both stayed busy."
"Ya sure you're not takin' on too much, shrew?" Lloyd asked through their shared telepathic link. "I mean, you've burned yourself out on things like this before."
"Says the young man who once tried to take down 10 of my dear father's weapons-building operations all on his own in less than 24 hours," Scandal thought back with a mild note of cheerful teasing, the true statement causing the British mercenary's forehead to furrow. "And besides, little brother, Luthor's Society may very well kill us all in the near future and then we won't have to worry about wearing ourselves out in the least."
"Now there's some encouraging words," Lloyd grumbled back, the two of them falling back into the familiar roles they had honed with nearly three years of similar undercover operations. "Still, I suppose that you'll now begin your pursuit of the reluctant five percent?"
Scandal couldn't help but crinkle her nose in response to Lloyd's vulgarity before giving him a return peck on the cheek. "Happy hunting, Mister Thomas."
"And to you, Miss Savage."
Istanbul - Topkapi Palace Basketmasters' Kiosk – 9:37 P.M.
Smoothing his threads as well as his worries the best he could, Noah Kuttler was once again struck by the utter hatred he had of events like these. Despised them ever since he could remember, in fact, since the day his father had literally dragged him out to his first formal ball at the tender age of four. He remembered trying his best to listen to the soothing music being played, his childish mind trying to take comfort in the works of Beethoven and Brahms amidst all the high-minded hustle and bustle. However, the moment he started clapping enthusiastically when the string quartet had finally come to a new movement, and the frantic shushings and admonishments that came from his father that followed, had soon drawn him the kind of attention he had longed to avoid both then and now. He reached for the worn handkerchief in his front suit pocket as he remembered the out-of-control crying that followed and the doting and apologetic words that followed from his parents as they tried their best to calm him down.
Bruce Wayne's inside source into the very root of The Secret Society of Supervillains had made certain to arrive several hours before the party began, if only to calm his nerves and better prepare himself for what might be to follow. His prolonged perusal of the centuries-old Islamic calligraphic manuscripts and murals that lined the eastern halls went a long way into reaching his goal, his diminutive interest in the accompanying weapons, shields, and armor quickly met in only a fraction of the time. As comfortable as he felt surrounded by his computers and mainframes, even in an environment as tense and dangerous as Lexcorp's Gotham offices, even he had to admit that some of the information he had to offer to his friend and employer was too important to transfer over digital communication lines. His revelation of the location of the Brother Eye satellite alone was more than enough to prove the necessity of directly passing on the knowledge he had obtained from right underneath Lex Luthor's nose.
"Wehehelllll, looking sharp there, answer man."
The Calculator could almost feel his blood freeze around his bones, the possibilities of all the possible circumstances behind this unwanted circumstance already rumbling around his well-developed brain. Trying his best to hide his fear, Noah took a moment to clear his throat before turning to address the source of the unwanted compliment.
"What. . . what are you doing here?" he asked, the hacker giving a quick prayer that the telepathic shields provided by The Martian Manhunter would hold. "I would have thought that you. . . you would be back in Gotham."
The potential cat to Noah's canary calmly let out a huff as he made his way forward, his stubby legs carrying him smoothly across the carpeting. "Now, now, Noay Noay Noster," Edgar Cizko replied with his hands still in the pockets of his Armani suit pants. "You're not the only one who likes to enjoy a night on the town. I mean, this place is so full up with lovely, young muff that even I don't know where to start. M&M?"
"Mister Cizko, I hope that you recognize the importance of keeping your vulgar comments to yourself," pointed out another, far more frightening voice, the new arrival prompting Doctor Psycho to put away the offered packet of chocolate and peanut treats. "We don't want to offend Mister Kuttler's kindly ears, after all."
Noah did his best to keep his Adam's Apple from descending into the heel of his left foot as yet another decidedly unwanted fellow made his presence felt. Dressed far more tastefully than either him or Cizko, the longtime power player still made a note to straighten his tie while striding forward in his usual, confident manner. It was blatantly clear that this man had no trouble at all with all the potentially frightful situations that may be taking place just twenty meters beneath their feet, his longtime experience among the most powerful creatures the galaxy had to offer him giving the monster plenty of time to adopt a firm grace under fire.
"And what brings you here, Lex?" asked Noah, his tone a bit sterner than before.
The self-proclaimed leader of The Secret Society responded to The Calculator's neutral question with a slow nod, his bald head catching a hint of the moonlight seeping through the nearby windows. "Well, we do have a great many powerful people here, Calculator. It is only fair that I should choose to make my presence felt."
As frightened as he was, Noah wasn't the least bit fooled by the genial air that Luthor had subtly mixed into his words. The man was still America's most prominent fugitive from justice after his latest battle with Superman, after all, and a public appearance under even the most controlled of circumstances was a risky move at best and a potential catastrophe at worst.
Unfortunately, Luthor was willing to ask Noah's unspoken question. "It's high time that I return to the necessary task of addressing the world, my friend," he continued with an almost anticipatory hunger. "And, if some of our fellow guests manage to get caught in the crossfire then, well, it's nobody's gain but ours."
Misfits Confidential
(Checks his watch yet again)
Huh. Well, only a few hours past the deadline. Not to shabby, I'd say, given that I've also had to finish up my dissertation over the course of the last 11 days. Of course, I've also gotta admit that writing this stuff is a great deal more entertaining than talking about special education in underdeveloped socioeconomic settings (Don't ask. It's making me fall asleep just thinking that I wrote it). A word to all of my fellow students, however. Don't spend 11 years waiting to get your master's degree like I did. It may sound like an interesting journey but it's expensive as fuck if you don't want to stay out of loan debt territory.
On the bright side, if I keep on going with my training then, in just two years, I can be known as Dr. Matt the Batman Fan. Man, just the thought of seeing that on my business cards would make it all worth it. Oh, and how scary is it that I'm going to be asked to guide the inheritors of the future? I mean, I feel sorry for the world just thinking about it.
But where was I? Ah, yes. . .
Next Chapter Preview
Well, it certainly seems like it's going to be a hot time in the old town tonight, isn't it? Just what will happen if or when the paths of Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor cross? How can Lloyd, Noah, and Scandal keep themselves safe as they get caught up in the conflict? Will Kara be able to keep herself sane in the havoc of Hurricane Stephanie? Oh, and who the hell is serving salad over there in the corner!? And who's the foxy, red-headed chick? Find out the answers to these burning questions in the next installment of How to Meet New People: Land-Speed Record for Awkwardness. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!