"your worst nightmare for me is a normal dream." - danny brown, downward spiral
Getting Kingsley to comply was easier than Cyborg thought.
Kingsley stood in front of the Jump City Police Department, the summer air warm as the sun finally began to set. She'd taken the bus to get here; she really had no other way to get here. She tried to pinpoint the last time she'd been here, before finally remembering - she was seven, and Candice had been arrested for shoplifting. It was a frigid winter that year, Alphonse had her wrapped around his body. She recalled her mother was livid, slapping Candice Alphonse kept fidgeting with his hoodie pocket. Marcell kept making beats on the plastic chair, and the wrinkly woman at the counter had kept yelling at him, with him just laughing it off. Yes, that was the one crime Candice had on her record, she'd snatched up some lipstick and a few articles of jewelry.
She pushed the thought into the back of her head for another day.
When she opened the door, a cold breeze enveloped her, she wish she'd bought a jacket. Police were scattered about, drinking coffee or jesting each other. There was another woman sitting in the plastic chair, scrolling on her phone. Aside from that, there seemed to be nobody in here, it was almost as if the Titans had just taken their jobs. At the counter was a young woman, her skin the color of caramel and her hair into a frizzy bun. "Yes, can I help you?" her voice was prim, but Kingsley could've sworn she'd heard a twang to her voice. She could've sworn she'd seen the woman in the shop before..
"I'm here for Chief Vivas," Kingsley responded politely, the woman's eyes lighting up with recognition.
"Oh, you're Ms. Pimentel, right?" the woman picked up the phone on her cluttered desk, dialing quickly, "One second…" Kingsley stood there, feeling goosebumps nipping her skin. "Mhm..yes she's here...of course, thank you," she hung up as fast as she picked it up, "Go down the hall behind me, first door to the left." Kingsley just nodded, going on her way.
The hallways of the police department were narrow, the noises of ringing telephones and chatter distant. It was quiet, probably since the day was almost over and most of them were leaving to their families. The walk seemed to take forever, before she finally stopped in front of the door at the beginning of the passage. Kingsley rapped on the door, sniffing a little as she heard a muffled voice yell "You may enter".
The room was dim, the only light being the compact lamp that sat on the desk. "Miss Pimentel," the man stood, his voice authoritative and intense. His face was surprisingly handsome, his dark hair slicked back and his skin tan. He was muscular, and his stature made Kingsley seem even more miniature than she already was. "I'd been expecting you, I'm Armando Vivas, chief officer here." He motioned his hand towards her, leaning over the desk, the ghost of a smile on his face. A golden shadow illuminated over his face, making him seem almost like a saving grace.
Kingsley, slightly hesitant, grabbed his hand, shaking it firmly. She could've sworn she'd seen him flinch as she let go as quickly as she shook it, sitting down in the large chair across from his desk. Everything in this room seemed to be humongous, from his long desk to the photographs on the walls. "Nice to meet ya' too," her voice was low, "Pardon me for being rude, but may I ask why I'm here? And why y'all sent Victor, of all people, to see me?" Armando's bushy eyebrow went up.
"You go straight to the point, huh?" his voice was a little jovial, "Cyborg himself wanted to go, actually, he said that he wanted to see how you all were doing." Kingsley crossed her arms, fixing her posture in the chair. This girl, she seemed a little too calm, raising Armando's senses.
"He shouldn't have come askin' for stuff that he knew was too much, then," she scoffed, "I haven't seen his behind in 'bout four years, and he comes in demanding stuff about him."
Him.
"By him, do you mean Marcell?"
Armando saw her body tense, a reaction he didn't expect from her. If anything, the name seemed to make her uncomfortable. "Yea, with his stupid ass," she muttered, clearing her throat, "You don't just come in diggin' out stuff you know will get you in trouble." Her tone was dark. If there was one thing he noticed about the teen in front of him, it was that she definitely carried herself in high regard. And not just that, she had a sinister air to her, like she was always there, watching and waiting. Like an owl, ready to take a mouse with its talons in the night.
"I apologize for his behavior," Armando tried his best to be civil, "But, this case has advanced in a direction we didn't deem possible at first."
"And what direction would that be?"
"On the day of the robbery, last August, the security cameras showed that two people were in that vault, Miss Pimentel," the officer explained, "Your brother had an accomplice, but when the Titans found them, neither were to be found." Kingsley rewinded that month in her head, remembering how upset and confused she was. "But."
"But…?"
"They were at the bank for money, that is for sure," Armando began in detail, "But, in the tape, we noticed something." He picked up the remote on his desk, turning his chair to the TV behind him. It clicked on and he popped in the tape on top of the stand, and the footage began to roll.
It was one that showed two figures, entering the bank, their guns raised high. One figure seemed to be yelling, Kingsley noticing immediately that one wore a mask, a mask in the mold of a boar. The other wore a clown mask, and her heart pinging as she realized who it was. Marcell. That was Marcell, her older brother Marcell. The same Marcell who would run her bath water, the one who would always start fights on the block with other boys who'd make fun of her. Her Marcell.
Armando sped up the tape, before stopping at two shadowy figures standing in the doorway of the grand vault. "Look here, look very closely" his finger traced the slowed down footage, before pausing it again, "Three. There's three shadows here." Kingsley commended his watchful eye, there was three. Someone else was there with them.
"Three," the footage seemed to take her breath away, as he started it again. Two men entered the vault, before she realized that the man that she thought was her brother, was wearing a different clown mask.
Marcell didn't just vanished, someone took him.
"Someone-"
"Abducted Marcell," she interrupted, "Someone abducted Marcell." Armando was quiet for a minute, as Kingsley let it sink in. Someone, or something, took Marcell a year ago. She felt the guilt eating her alive, this entire time she'd berated her brother for running off somewhere. Guilt, what a weird feeling, one she rarely felt.
"Miss Pimentel, I brought you down today because I wanted to tell you this, nothing more," Armando admitted, "We will try to find who took him, I guarantee you that, ma'am."
Her world felt like it was spinning, her mind racing and her tongue dry. What would she tell Al, or Candy or her mother? Did the department already warn them, or was she the first to know? Fear filled every fiber of her being.
For once in her life, Kingsley didn't know what to say.
She stood from her seat, nodded, and walked back out the door.
...
The ceiling light came on, Kingsley squinting behind her shades.
"You're late, that's rare."
Kingsley set down the bags of groceries, looking at the man before her. The wig he usually wore at this time of day was set down, his lipstick still on his lips, a vivid shade of purple. "I stopped to get some food for Claudette," Kingsley murmured, she was surprised she still had her voice, "After I went to the department, I mean." She was surprised he was home from work this early, was it slow over at the cabaret tonight? There was still a sour taste in her mouth, her hands a little clammy. If there was one thing she hated, it was being stressed. It made her hair frizzy.
"Yea, I know that much," Alphonse retorted, sipping coffee out of the mug in his hands. "Claudette was wondering where you were...and they called and told me." There was a pregnant pause, before Kingsley picked up the bags and set them on the marble counter, taking items out of the bags.
"I knew he would," she stated, "I needed something to take my mind off of things, so I took the liberty of using my pay to buy some stuff for the month," she began putting up stuff quickly, before Alphonse grabbed her wrist, stopping her from putting the baby food in the pantry.
"No, you ain't goin' on no damn ego trip right now," his voice was stern, "I'm having it just as hard as you right now, OK? Ma' won't stop blowin' up my phone, and I'm this close to blocking her number." Kingsley bit her lip, black lipstick staining her teeth, before she silently put the milk in the fridge and sat in the spot he was sitting in, defeated.
"Someone took him."
"Naw." Alphonse said, sarcasm dripping in his voice. He had a feeling where this was going, and he didn't like it.
"That's literally the worst possible outcome."
Alphonse was quiet, sorry for being so harsh.
"Kingsley Dolores Pimentel," he began, "Whatever is going on in that big head of yours, stop it." A smile cracked on her face, before growing into something more sinister, a smile he could only describe as wicked. This was the Kingsley he knew. The one that got into fights on the playground, the one that would knock over sandcastles and used to lie and cheat and steal her way into getting what she wanted. And this was the Kingsley that she'd hidden from the rest of the world.
The smile wiped off her face as soon as it came, her expression neutral now, her face cool cooing of a baby came from the other room, as Kingsley began to throw away the bags, some of the wetness from them staining her hands. Alphonse stood, crossing his arms, trying to decipher what his little sister was thinking.
He looked her up and down, as she turned on her heel as the babbling turned into crying, a pep in her step. On her right arm, he could've sworn he'd seen a patch of skin, one that was bruised and a little twisted. She'd probably cut herself on a garden tool, his brotherly senses decided.
And in his twenty six years of life, he still couldn't figure out what she was thinking.
"Titans, go!"
Robin hopped into action, running as fast as he could into the bank. The siren was wailing, as he hopped over people, either huddled on the floor in fear or running out of the door into the growing crowd. The Bank of Perez was usually broken into at least once a week, so these movements were routine to him. Behind him followed the rest of the Titans, Starfire and Raven soaring through the air, Beast Boy and Cyborg charging in after him.
"They're in there!" the clerk wailed, pointing at the door behind her. Robin burst through it with a swift kick, adrenaline flowing through his system. This, this was the life for him, one of fighting crime. For justice, for what was right.
"Cyborg, get the left wing! Beast Boy, the right with me, Raven and Starfire get the middle! Go!" They split up, immediately jumping into action. Cyborg made his way down the wing, putting an extra pep in his step. Surprisingly, the calls hadn't even told who exactly was robbing the bank, only that there was a danger lying about.
The H.I.V.E., he thought almost immediately. They had been causing more mischief as of late, whether it was robbing banks or breaking into the houses of the rich, he recalled multiple millionaires calling in, fearing for their life. This call had been more abrupt, yes, but that was to be expected with the eccentric group.
The hallway seemed to be longer than usual, as he finally reached the large vault in his wing. This was the vault they used for money, he remembered, his eyes widening at the scene before him. The metal was twisted and contorted, some sort of liquid dripping down some of the sides. Was it...Smoking? He was cautious not to touch it was he hopped in, keeping his cool and activating his arm's laser.
"Y'know," he began slyly, "You'd think you'd be smart enough to open the door the regular way, huh?"
The figure turned around.
"And maybe you'd figure to shut the door behind you."
sometimes, the best way to continue a story is to make it predictable, then throw twists into it. it makes it more exciting to me, the setup to this story may seem predictable, but trust me, its a lot more complicated then it is now. who is the figure? and where is marcell?
this story has been hard to write. wish me luck, in due time. reviews and criticism are loved, please leave reviews and other comments. id appreciate them. also, i am looking for a beta writer, so if youd like to help me, please pm me!
- mike, a hopeful writer.