Well, here's a story to balance out The Eyes Have It. Something lighter and fluffier.
Beta'ed by WtchCool.
- o – o -
The Traveler
Chapter One: Window Dressing
Trip Faraday hated Monday evenings. It was like the whole day had it in for him, and the evening was the worst part. That his patrols always picked up on Monday evenings seemed to cement the fact. Still, he was the Cape, and it was his duty to protect Palm City—no matter how much he hated Mondays.
The twenty-year-old vigilante picked up the pot of lukewarm coffee and began drinking from it as his partner, Orwell, began rattling off his patrol schedule. Jamie Fleming (and, oh boy, hadn't that been a surprise?) was a surprising stickler for keeping his patrols as random as possible. Given that Fleming and Snake Eyes seemed to take a perverse delight in trying to kill him, it was a good idea.
"And for God's sake Trip, would it kill you to use a mug?" Orwell finished in exasperation. Trip looked over at her, a smirk on his lips.
"Probably," he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "What's this about ARK doing something near the docks?" the vigilante added, leaning over the blogger's shoulder to stare at the computer screen. "I thought Snake Eyes had made her opinion abundantly clear…"
"Like you making your opinion of your stepfather clear," Orwell retorted under her breath. Trip glowered at her, but remained silent. Arguing with Orwell was like arguing with a brick wall, but not as much fun.
"Yeah, whatever," Trip grumbled. "Okay, I gotta go on patrol. I'll check the ARK thing out first, yeah?"
"Don't forget your headset!" Orwell yelled after him. Trip held up the device in question as he exited the lair, snickering under his breath as he pulled his hood up. Yeah, arguing with a brick wall was a lot more fun.
- o – o -
Mondays had to be the best days for business in the world, unless one counted Friday evenings spent in the back rooms of pubs. This was, of course, the biggest difference between Elizabeth "Snake Eyes" Raoul and the Cape. The smuggler enjoyed working; the Cape did not. At least not on Monday evenings, at any rate.
The smuggler was prowling around the outer edge of her domain, fulfilling her obligations to the longshoremen and the IRS. Elizabeth wasn't one to bother with the government—or even pay attention to their laws most days—but even she wasn't crazy enough to screw around with the bloody Internal Revenue Service. There were some things that just weren't worth it, honestly.
She sighed, stretching as she completed her check of another switchbox. The security systems were the best money could buy, and yet someone still had to physically check on them. It was necessary, at any rate. Did give her an excuse to be alone on Mondays…
"Hello Cape," Elizabeth said, hearing a telltale rustle of fabric. The vigilante sighed, not even trying to deny the fact that he was there by remaining silent. "Nice evening, ay?"
"ARK is in your district. Why?"
The smuggler rolled her eyes at the question. Apart from one infamous and all too memorable moment, the Cape was always annoyingly blunt and to the point. He wasn't as much fun as his predecessor had been, which was a shame. Not as much witty banter from this pup.
"Do I look like I 'ave a bloody clue?" she asked, turning around. She crossed her arms, wishing she were wearing one of her suits and not the ridiculous orange vest that was almost mandatory as part of her legitimate job's uniform. It was also effing impossible to hide a gun in the damn thing, come to think of it.
"You look a bit scaly," the Cape replied, grinning. Elizabeth glowered at him. "C'mon Snake Eyes. When was the last time you made a joke about your skin?" The vigilante ducked the expected blow, but knew he'd won the argument anyways. Snake Eyes wasn't one to let ARK play in her sandbox without exacting a hefty toll; and she really wasn't someone who was going to let a vigilante like the Cape show her up.
"Bugger off Cape," Elizabeth said, locking the switchbox again. She picked up the flashlight and looked at the vigilante, an evil look in her eye. "I have to go take a look at this ARK thing again anyways."
Trip watched the smuggler sprint off into the dark, smirking. So she wasn't Scales, but that didn't mean it was harder to push her and ARK into conflicts. Dad had played that game too many times… Alright, he probably needed to quit doing that. It was so much fun though!
With a sigh, Trip pulled himself up onto the row of storage containers that formed a makeshift wall around the perimeter of the docks and sprinted off across them. And damn if his conscience didn't get on his case every once in a while. He had slept with her once, for crying out loud!
This was just going to end badly, he could tell.
- o – o -
Trip often wondered if the inner eye he'd always heard about was possible. Some days, it felt like he had one. Alright, he hadn't read Harry Potter in years—that had died with his father—but there was some merit in the supernatural. (For God's sake, he ran around in tights and had slept with a woman who looked like the next candidate for Ms. Hellgate. Stood to reason the supernatural could exist, too.)
Case in point: He was now face-to-face with some of the worst thugs ARK employed to do their dirty work. He'd followed Snake Eyes to the portion of the docks ARK was encroaching on. The situation had gone downhill from there and it didn't look like it was going to get any better.
Whatever ARK was guarding it was pretty damn important. (Although that did beg the question as to why they had it on the docks.)
"Oh shut up," the vigilante added out loud, kicking one of the thugs in the head. The man went down with a grunt, unconscious. Snake Eyes seemed to be holding her own against the two men who were trying to kill her, so Trip decided to check out the container the men had been guarding.
"Little 'elp would be appreciated!" Snake Eyes bellowed. A few seconds later, the smuggler was flying through the air to slam into the side of the container in front of Trip. The woman glowered at him as she stood up, brushed herself off, and charged right back into the fray.
"Nice dent," Trip muttered, checking out the damage inflicted on the poor innocent shipping container. That was going to be hard to cover up…
The vigilante sighed as the two men slammed into what had been a perfect imprint of Raoul's body. So much for that. And he'd so been looking forward to getting a photo of it. (Damn it, he really needed a normal hobby.)
"Next time, 'elp a girl out," Snake Eyes snarled as she stalked past, adjusting the lurid orange vest she was wearing over her work clothes. She yanked the doors of the container open with a little more force than necessary. Trip winced at the shriek of metal, before following the smuggler inside.
"It's not my fault you've got anger management issues," Trip muttered under his breath, low enough that his voice wouldn't carry to the smuggler in question. Aloud, he said "You looked like you were handling it pretty well to me."
The rude gesture wasn't unexpected, honestly. Trip was about to start pacing when the silence stretched to the five minute mark.
"Oh bugger."
That was never a good sign, especially from Raoul.
"Is that supposed to happen?" Elizabeth asked, seconds before whatever it was that she was examining exploded. Trip's last thought as he lost consciousness was that he was going to have to hurt Raoul for this. If he survived…
- o – o -
Trip woke up screaming, thrashing around as he tried to put out the flames on his chest. As the panic washed away, his breathing slowed down considerably. The vigilante frowned as he became more aware of his surroundings. He hadn't slept in a bedroom like this since he was sixteen—nineteen, if the incident with Elizabeth Raoul counted.
If Ruvi was playing a joke on him, the man was going to die. He owed the man anyways.
The vigilante came to full alertness as he heard thumping coming towards the door. Alright, something else was niggling at his mind, but this was more important. Shit, where was his mask? Trip searched frantically for any of his gear as the door opened.
"Trip? Honey, are you alright?"
Trip turned towards the voice he hadn't heard in almost a year, eyes wide. "Mom?" He passed out.
- o – o -
So, there you have it. What do you think? Good? Bad? Think I'm being too mean to Trip? Drop a line and let me know!
