Something I promised to post for a friend awhile back. Until I get my muse back for most of the Young Justice characters, I'll leave you with a couple of chapters of my side project, Cat Killed the Curiosity, a little play on the saying 'curiosity killed the cat'.


This new game she'd invented took a measure of skill, something he'd ensured himself he had plenty of. Nothing to worry about. Not today or tomorrow. But he could feel her watching from the shadows at times when they weren't playing the game. He'd turn and breathe deeply, trying to catch a glimpse or a whiff of what he knew waited. Sometimes he could find a shadow or the lingering scent of perfume, or maybe a shredded bit of fabric. Occasionally there would be a dull blade or the shell of a bullet.

That day there was nothing. No sign of her at all, not even a hint. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or angry. Surely she wouldn't abandon her game on a day he was ready to play. Not so soon after she'd added new rules! If he knew anything, he knew she was stubborn like her sister.

He had better things to do though, he reassured himself as he slunk along the wall of a recently abandoned apartment building. He could be finding the... the real one. Or taking out the common trash of the streets.

Instead he found himself climbing a narrow staircase to the roof, stepping into the cool night air through steamy fog and crouching down at the edge of the building with bated breath. Her last clue led him there, of all places, to the hollowed out framework of a lone corner of the city scorched by fire. From his perch he observed the stark contrast of black streaks of ash smeared against neighboring structures, and the thin tendrils of smoke that came from still smoldering piles of debris.

He waited until the tips of his fingers were numb and his nose ran from the cold, eyes taking in every minuscule movement, and then he left as the warming fingertips of the sun stretched across the early morning sky. She only played the game at night. It was useless to continue. Another night he had fed the obsession only to come back with nothing.

The second night he came expecting nothing. Perhaps he had misinterpreted the clue, or maybe this was another part of the game; to wait him out until he became too tired to play. That would be losing, and though he didn't quite know what that foretold, he was in no hurry to find out.

His answer came at midnight when he could hear the faint chimes of the old courthouse clock in the distance. After a few nights with little rest, he had begun to nod off, lulled by the sounds of life in the distant light of the city, but the hiss of a blade brought him to his senses and he came to his feet very quickly, hands struggling to notch an arrow as they shook from the cold.

"Still playing?" A voice asked from the shadows, laced with humor. "I'm impressed."

He looked around wildly, aiming through the darkness.

"So, Roy," the words cut smoothly through the night. "I hear you're working with the League now."

"Yes," he said. There was no use hiding anything from her.

"But, something else." A slim figure appeared on the opposite edge of the roof, poised and reflecting nothing more than the casual tone entailed. "You're looking for something?"

"I found you," he said quietly.

"So you did, dear." She was advancing.

"I win."

"Really? Did you?" The curved grin of her mask caught the light. "I'm not sure we're both playing the same game."

He couldn't bring himself to let the arrow go. She'd tormented him so long, but then he faltered and his arms dropped to his sides. She was so close in that moment that he could feel the heat from her body and smell that overpowering scent washing over his senses. He might have pulled away, but he found himself frozen in place.

"I think I might have an idea of the kind of game you want to play..." Before he could respond, she was by his side with a long, thin blade pressed against his cheek.

She hummed quietly under her breath and he caught her eyes dart to his. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the knife was gone in the folds of her kimono. She pulled back her mask, an unreadable expression on her face, and Roy got the chance to take in the details of her face.

He had to admit, it was worrying. Jade Nguyen, the name he had found for her after quite a long time of research, was unpredictable at best. She was chaotic, with hardly any permanent alignments, and the only time she had any sort of self-control was when she was on a job. No matter the order, she followed it to the letter. Stealing? No problem. Killing? Easy, for a price. Was it duty or perhaps the only way she could keep a sense of sanity?

He was surprised when she didn't lean in to kill him quickly, but rather met his lips in a flurry of motion that caused him to flinch away. She continued until he relaxed into it, the tense uncertainty in his limbs dissipating, and then broke broke away, leaving him breathless. Roy stayed where he was, mouth half open and eyes locked with the assassin, willing himself to believe what he thought just happened. She'd been hinting at it since they first met, but he had convinced himself it was just a ruse, just another way she was playing with his brain.

Jade smiled at him from the perch she had retreated to. "Not what you were thinking?"

"Uh, no," Roy breathed. "Not at all."

"Well, if you don't like it I'm sure my superiors wouldn't mind it if I killed you," she said, and Roy realized her smile had never reached her eyes.

Roy shook his head slowly, and lowered himself to the ground to a sitting position. "I don't want to fight you," he said.

"Is that why you were following me around?" she asked, and she came from her spot and dropped down to sit in front of him.

"To be honest," Roy said quietly, "I'm not entirely sure why I followed you."

Jade took on a thoughtful expression and stared at him through half lidded eyes. "Curiosity, perhaps? You know what they say, little archer boy... Curiosity killed the cat."

"I don't see why I should be afraid, seeing as the only cat around here is you."

"Touché," she said. Jade reached out and grabbed his wrist, which had been resting comfortably in his lap, and drew it to rest by her feet.

"Hey," he said. He tried to pull it back, but Jade kept a strong grip on his arm and Roy was sure she could easily break it from that position. He stilled, and instead watched her face, hoping for clues. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, the edges curved up slightly, and her clear, dark eyes were intently focused on the lines of his hand. She looked up and caught him staring and the edge of her lips curled up more.

Jade pat his hand, placed it back in his lap, and stood up. "You'll be looking for the next clue tomorrow," she said simply.

"Wait, what?"

She stepped back until she was facing him from the ledge of the roof. Jade gave a small, triumphant smile and then she dropped off the edge.

Roy rushed to his feet and flung himself at the parapet. He gripped the edges until his knuckles were white as he stared down from the building. There was no sign of the assassin down below; no hint she had even been there but the lingering smell of perfume and the memory of warmth on Roy's lips.