Young Justice: Strays
Kilnorc: Not sure what to make of this just yet, but if anything, it's a treat.
I am taking some liberties with this. For one, I don't know the YJ comics, nor the comics based from this TV series.
Chapter One: Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like A Bee
Battery Park, New York
March 5, 21:30 EST
The old gym had been around for decades. For years and years, people young and old had been going in and out of the doors to Wildcat's Gym for one reason or another. Some went in to learn to fight from the old man who ran the place, and some went in there just to exercise, maybe burn off some pent-up aggression or overabundant energy. For the one and only youth currently inside the rundown relic of a building, it was a second home. It had been for five years now.
The heating was working fine, yet he refused to take off the hooded gym jacket he wore. His sweat, a result from hours of training after school, either dripped from his brow or was soaked into the jacket, turning the light gray fabric into a dark and smelly gray. Although some boxers wore gloves when they beat the bag, all he wore were bandages; he used the gloves for the ring. Another one of his matches was coming up before the month was out, so he spent as much time as he could practicing. One thing that the old man told him was "Never let yourself go soft".
He was so busy throwing punch after punch into the old boxing bag, he didn't notice the old man himself walking into the workout area with a newspaper in his hand. "Hey, kid!" the old man called out.
No response. No sign that he had heard.
"MAC!" the old man yelled. "HEY!"
Almost immediately, Mac stopped, throwing one last hard right into the bag before turning to the old man, breathing heavily. He pulled the hood down, revealing a head of very short brown hair and a pair of very bright blue eyes. His face was shining from the sweat. "What is it, Grampa?"
Ted Grant frowned. "I ain't your grandpa, Mac!"
Mac smirked. "You're old enough to be my gramps."
"I'm not too old to kick your butt all the way around this gym!" Grant shot back. He pointed to the clock. "It's getting late, kid. Go home to your mama, huh? I don't want police coming down here, looking for a missing fifteen year old."
Mac glanced at the clock. "Crap, it's almost ten?! I didn't get started on my homework and I have a paper due tomorrow!"
Grant sighed and shook his head. "I keep telling you: build your brain like you build your body! You need to be sharp if you're gonna be a smart fighter, Mac."
"Somehow, I don't think a potential boxing champion has to know much about The Odyssey," Mac said dryly.
The old man chuckled. "Son, I know a bunch of women who would say different." He jerked his thumb to the locker rooms behind him. "Hit the showers, change your clothes and grab your gear. Don't keep your mama waiting too long."
"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya..." Mac grumbled as he headed towards the locker room. As he was passing, he glanced at the paper in Grant's hand. "Read anything good?"
Grant shrugged. "Just some story about a pair of bank robbers in the Southwest and the Justice League taking care of some big crisis."
Mac grinned. "So, just the usual stuff?"
"Yeah, just the usual stuff." Grant rolled up his paper and smacked him over the side of the head. "GO!" he urged.
"I'm going, I'm going!" Mac cried, hustling. "You don't have to hit me like a dog that took a piss on the carpet!"
The shower felt so good, he didn't want to leave. Like so many times before, once he was out, he took up his favorite spot on the bench outside his locker and stared at the poster up Black Canary that hung on the wall directly across from him. Mac would often either pause in his changing to stare at the poster, or just stare at it once he was finished dressing. He was not "obsessed" or a "fanatic", he was just a fifteen year old boy who had access to a blonde bombshell wearing nothing but fishnets, a black bustier and a small denim jacket.
He couldn't help it if he was horny.
"Man, what I wouldn't give to see you up close and personal," he sighed. "I still can't believe Ted taught you how to fight!"
That was another thing that Mac loved about Wildcat's Gym. A year ago, he had discovered that Ted Grant, the 90-something year old geezer that looked like he was in his 70s, had not only taught the bodacious Black Canary how to fight, but was a member of the Justice Society of America. He had sworn to Ted, known better in those days as Wildcat, that he would never reveal his secret. In return for better training and stories about the good old days when he was a superhero, of course.
Mac had no intention on letting Ted's secret out to the world to begin with. The old guy had been a second father to him and had gotten him through the worst time in his life. How could he possibly turn his back on such a great old guy like Ted and be a dick by letting the biggest secret about him out for the world to hear?
A beeping from his duffel bag on the floor next to his feet made him look away from the poster. He pulled out his cellphone and saw that it was now ten o'clock.
"CRAP!" Mac finished dressing into his street clothes and began to stuff his bag with his workout outfit. "Ma's gonna kill me for being out this late and she's gonna kill me again if I get a failing grade for not doing my homework! Crap, crap, crap!" He reached into his locker and pulled on a dark gray hooded jacket. It was much too big for him, but he didn't care about the size. He wouldn't trade it in for a better fitting jacket and he wouldn't make any changes to it. It was much too precious to him.
He was just tying his sneakers into double-knots when he heard a very loud noise, like that of a window shattering, come from the front of the gym. A moment later, he heard Ted scream out just before a heavy THUD echoed through the locker room. Not missing a beat, Mac raced towards the workout area and nearly burst through the door when a flashing light suddenly shined through the glass.
What the hell is going on? he wondered. That was like lightning, but there's no storm out tonight!
Ted screamed again from the other side of the door. It didn't take Mac long to lay eyes on him. The old man was laying slumped against the far wall next to the boxing bag Mac had been punching a short time before. The bag was laying on its side, the seams ripped open and the stuffing pouring out onto the hardwood floor. Ted didn't look any better either; he was laying flat on his back, his limbs twitching as small arcs of electricity danced around him.
Another form soon came into view. Mac's eyes widened when he saw the intruder. It was a man (or at least, he assumed it was a man) dressed in a form fitting blue and yellow costume. The yellow portions of his costume had thick black stripes running across and on top of his head, he wore a helmet that looked like the head of an insect. On his back, he had long, pale blue, see through wings and electricity crackled about his gloved hands. The man was yelling something that he couldn't make out.
Who in the hell...? Mac knelt down under the window so he wouldn't be seen and gently eased the door open so he could listen better.
"...going to pay for what you did to me, Wildcat!" the man was screaming. "I'm going to make you suffer!"
Mac was taken back. This costumed freak knew who Ted really was, but the only way that could be is if...
Oh, crap! This guy's one of Ted's old enemies! I don't freakin' believe this!
Coughing, Ted pulled himself away from the wall, scowling. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, you little punk, but you're just asking for trouble."
The man laughed coldly. "Have you gotten so old and senile that you don't remember Killer Wasp?!"
Ted stared. "Killer...Wasp?"
Killer Wasp...Killer Wasp...Killer Wasp! Mac's mind raced, trying to recollect every story that Ted ever told from his adventuring days. Crap, I don't know who Killer Wasp is! Not good, not good!
"You remember me now, Wildcat?" Killer Wasp asked snidely.
Ted struggled to his feet, panting. "Oh, I remember Yellow Wasp alright. Hard to forget a fruit fly with plastic wings buzzing around like he's some kind of hornet. I remember him just fine, but I don't have one damn idea as to who you are."
Mac frowned. I'm confused...
"Yellow Wasp is an old-timer, like myself," Ted continued. "I lost track of him, so I don't know if he's dead, or in an old folk's home, or if he's stuck in a hospital bed somewhere. If you're going to pretend to be someone, you may want to get the name right, punk."
At that moment, Mac could swear that Ted made eye contact with him for a brief time. The old man had to have known he was still around before, and now he knew where he was.
Ted limped forward. "So, c'mon. Tell me, who are you really? If you want to go by the name Killer Wasp, that's fine by me, but don't go pretending to be an old friend."
"Friend!" Killer Wasp scoffed. "My grandfather was no friend to you, Wildcat! He was your enemy and you beat him mercilessly until he couldn't fight anymore!"
"Ah! So, you're his grandson, eh?" Ted cracked his neck. "Alright, youngblood. You're here for revenge, I get that. You honestly think you can stand against me though? Your grandpappy couldn't beat me and he had years of experience under his belt. What do you bring to the table?"
Mac thought, Well, you're probably at least fifty years older than him, for one. He's got youth and energy, whereas you probably get sleepy watching an episode of NCIS!
"For one thing, Wildcat, I have our age difference as my advantage!" He raised one hand and threw a bolt of energy into the wall behind Ted, blowing a sizable chunk into it. "I have newer technology at my disposal, I'm younger, I'm stronger and I'm even faster than you!" Killer Wasp quickly darted about the gym so fast, he almost became a blur.
Not as fast as Kid Flash or the real Flash... Mac observed ...but he's definitely fast. Might be faster than the old man. He looked at Ted. Again, their eyes met and he could see that Ted was giving him a message in his eyes.
It said: "Don't even think about it, son. This is my fight. You just get out of here before you get involved!"
Unfortunately for Ted, Mac was hardly labeled as a good listener. He slipped away from the door, letting it close silently. He rummaged through his duffel bag and brought out a pair of black metal-studded weighted knuckled gloves. Didn't expect to wear these against someone like this nutjob, he thought as he pulled them onto his hands, but there's a first time for everything!
Rising to his full height, Mac turned to the door and pulled the hood over his head. He took a deep breath. He could hear his heart pounding. It was going fast, but he didn't know if it was out of fear for himself or fear for Ted. Outside those doors, there was a lunatic who could kill the two of them. Was he afraid that Ted would die and one of the greatest men he had ever been blessed to know would die, or was he afraid that he would be killed, leaving his mother and two siblings at home to grieve for him?
As he exhaled, he was overcome with a familiar sensation. He had felt it before every boxing match he had. This wasn't fear that he was feeling.
It was excitement.
Rock and roll.
Another flash came and Ted screamed, louder this time. There was no time left to waste! Mac burst through the doors and strode boldly into the workout area. At the sound of the doors banging open, Killer Wasp turned to see the newcomer, his hands crackling. Ted was laying on the floor now, face down and wasn't moving. Mac clenched his fists and faced Killer Wasp directly.
"Who the hell are you?" Wasp demanded.
Mac stepped between him and Ted, glaring at him from under the hood. "I'm the guy who is going to kick your ass from here to Jersey, butthead!"
Wasp began to laugh hard. "You? Kick my ass?" He was laughing to much, his arms went to his sides. "Please! Someone like you couldn't do a damn thing to me!"
Just keep laughing, freak... Mac thought angrily. Just keep going...
"I'm having a really good night," Wasp said, chuckling. "I'm going to kill Wildcat and you gave me a really good laugh. I'm going to be generous and let you walk out of here alive."
"What makes you think that I can't do anything to you?" Mac asked. "What if I said that Wildcat here taught me how to fight?"
Wasp looked back to the still form. "That old fossil told you who he was and he taught you how to fight? That's what you're saying to me?"
Mac nodded. "Taught me everything I know. Still think I can't do jack?"
The villain walked up to Mac and looked down at him. "Yeah, I still think you can't do a damn thing to me. Look at you! You look like one of those furry-footed guys from those fantasy movies!"
"Hobbits."
"Yeah, them! Look, I get it. You like the old guy, you'd do anything for him. I get that, I do." Wasp laid a gloved hand on Mac's shoulder. "But really, you can't beat me. I'm offering you a chance to walk away without getting yourself killed. Be smart and take it."
Mac shrugged Wasp's hand off his shoulder. "No chance in hell am I leaving him here with you."
Wasp's big bug eyes stared down at him. "Stupid kid. Tell you what. Since you're so eager to die," he stepped back and tapped the front of his mask, "I'll give you one free shot before I lay you out next to the old man."
A grin spread across Mac's face under the hood. "Really? You'll give me a free shot?"
Again, Wasp tapped his mask. "Hit me as hard as you can, I dare you," he taunted.
Your funeral, dumbass... Mac pulled back his right arm and thought back to the lessons Wildcat had given him over the years.
"Never go for the groin, unless you have absolutely no other choice. With one good punch, you can either kill a man or bring him down and knock him out. You can also inflict a lot of pain to him. The best place to hit someone is..."
Mac swung hard, not aiming for Wasp's helmet, but for the lower side of his torso.
Kidneys!
His fist connected with Wasp's body so hard, the villain doubled over, arms going for his sides again. Mac could hear him gasping from inside the helmet. Again and again, Mac punched him, this time aiming for anywhere he had a free shot. He hit him in the gut, the chest and the head especially. Mac never let up; he was too angry, too in the zone to let up his attack. He just kept thinking about Ted laying there, possibly dead, behind him.
I won't let it happen again! Mac screamed to himself. Not to my mama, not to the kids, and sure as hell not to Ted! I'm not gonna let anyone die on me again!
He paused in his attacks and looked at his enemy. The so called "Killer" Wasp was stumbling from side to side with dents on his helmet where he had been hit. The villain's gasping had gotten worse. He probably had a couple of broken ribs underneath that gaudy costume of his.
"You listen to me, Wasp, or whoever you are," Mac seethed. "Spread the word around: no one touches Wildcat or this gym and no one causes trouble in my city, or else they're gonna get the same beatdown I just gave you! Understand?!"
"W-Who...are...you...?" Wasp moaned.
Mac threw the hardest punch he had straight into Wasp's helmet. The accessory was given the biggest dent it had gotten and Mac could hear something break inside. Probably Wasp's nose. The so-called villain was sent flying backward, crashing into a group of fitness dummies. He didn't get back up.
"You ain't nothing but a punch-out," Mac muttered, massaging his fist. He paused and thought for a moment. Punch-out...hmmm...
A groan came from behind. "I'm getting too old for this..."
Mac turned to see Ted rolling over on the floor. "Gramps!" he exclaimed.
"Mac?" Ted turned just to see his student running over and sliding on his knees to his side. "You alright, son?"
"Forget me, Ted, what about you? Are you okay?!"
Ted nodded and waved dismissively. "I've had worse, Mac. Believe me, it's nothing I haven't felt before." He looked around and saw Wasp laying amongst a mess of fitness dummies, arms and legs sticking into the air. "Mac, did you do that?"
Mac pulled his hood down. He was grinning from ear to ear. "Hell yeah, I did!" He held up his fists. "It was a TKO! He didn't see it coming! It was unbelievable!"
Ted looked at him and his own smile crossed his face. "Better than beating the crap out of punks who try to steal cars or mug people, huh, kid?"
"God, it was a million times better than that!" Mac yelled. He didn't notice Ted grimace at the sound level. "Is that what it was like for you in the JSA!?"
"More or less," Ted admitted, shrugging. "We can talk about this later, son. Right now, you just get on home already, huh? If your mom asks..." he shook his head "...I dunno, tell her that I needed help taking out some gym trash."
Mac looked at Wasp. "What about him?" he asked.
"I'm getting on in years, but I still remember what to do with people like him. Don't worry about me, Mac, just go home."
That night, Mac couldn't sleep at all. He had gotten an earful from his mother about being out so late, making her worry and all the usual parent business. He spent a couple hours writing up a paper for The Odyssey before flopping down onto his single bed. Ted was alright and alive, he was going to get a passing grade, and best of all, he had knocked out his first "super-villain"!
For the past year, Mac had used what Wildcat had taught him to go against the thugs that had a grip on the neighborhood. Every opportunity he had, he'd knock out a piece of the criminal element, dressed in his dark gray jacket and wearing his studded gloves. It made him feel really good, but taking out Wasp made him feel so alive! For the rest of the night, he thought about the Justice League and the work they did. He wondered if they ever felt the same way he did when they fought the bad guys, if they felt as good as he did.
He didn't get to sleep until the crack of dawn and managed to get one, maybe two hours of sleep before he had to go to school.
He got an F on his paper.
March 5, 10:15 EST
While Mac was in school that day, Ted was in his office at the gym. He sat back in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk and the phone to his ear.
"I'm telling you, the kid laid him out flat! I haven't seen that much potential in years."
"You also didn't see how he fared against this Wasp," said the voice on the other end of the line. "You were out cold, remember?"
"Just because I'm old, don't mean I have memory loss!" Ted snapped. "I just know that one minute, the brat was going all cliche villain on me, with the dialogue, power demonstration, and the next time I see him, he's on his back and Mac is still standing! The kid didn't seem to have a scratch on him!"
"I'm glad you're excited for your student, Ted."
"Yeah, I-" Ted suddenly grasped his chest and leaned forward, groaning.
"Ted? Ted! Are you alright?"
"I'm...I'm fine..." Ted wheezed, sitting back after a moment. "I'm good. Still feeling the effects of that punk's attack. Don't worry, I'll be fine."
"At your age, Ted, jolts of high voltage electricity isn't a good thing. It could kill you or have very damaging effects for the rest of your life."
"I said, I'm fine Dinah!" Ted insisted. "Look, my personal health aside, I want to ask you something."
"And here I thought you were trying to catch up with an old friend. What's on your mind, Ted?"
Ted hesitated. "I may be out of the superhero gig, Dinah, but I keep hearing things. I see things on the computer, in the paper and on the tube. I see the young ones out there and fighting the good fight. I was wondering if-"
"It were possible for this Mac to join the team."
"Yeah. You think he can?"
"I don't know, Ted. I'll have to talk to the others about it, then we'll have to look into the kid. You know, check his history and everything."
"I'll personally vouch for the kid if I have to. I think he can do a lot of good, but he's still raw and could use some guidance I can't give him." He paused, still clutching his chest. "Especially if I'm not around to give him anymore help."
No reply.
"Please, Dinah."
"...I'll try, Ted, but I can't promise anything. For now, just keep an eye on him, okay?"
The line went dead.
Kilnorc: I know that, according to DC sources, Killer Wasp is the SON of Yellow Wasp, but a friend of mine suggested I could do a retcon of my own and make him the grandson instead. I don't mind criticisms, but do keep in mind, this is my first attempt at a DC universe story and I'm still learning about a LOT of characters.
Oh, and I own Mac.