Bespoke
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A/N: Aaaannnd here's the next chapter. Seems to sort of be writing itself, y'know?
Still don't own the Titans. No monetary gain being realized here. Go about your lives, citizens.
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Chapter Two
* * Wednesday 19 August, 10:15am * *
"Wally?"
Kid Flash looked up from the kitchen table (currently littered with diagrams and schematics) where Mr. Wattersen was apparently showing him something. Their guest followed suit, and both of them goggled at her.
She stood there in the doorway, the regeneration device in one hand and the suit in the other, with a quizzical look on her face. "Oh! You're still here!"
"Yeah," answered Wally, "I told him he could stay the night. He didn't want to miss anything."
"But I did not," the older fellow said, "expect you to be up and around this early." He rose and walked over to her. "May I?"
She shrugged. "Knock yourself out. But, seriously, it doesn't hurt at all." She worked her arm around. "See? Nothin'."
He moved the fabric down and out of the way (while Wally tried, unsuccessfully, not to stare) and then drew a quick breath. Running a finger along the unblemished skin, he marveled, "Amazing! He said he'd made a few tweaks in the design, but I never … this is … simply amazing!"
"And it feels really good." She turned around and presented the back of her shoulder. "Clear back there, too?"
"Perfectly." He took a step back and thought hard for a moment before shaking his head. "Perhaps it has more to do with your own unique physical makeup. Or it may be a function of your powers. I don't see how the unit by itself could have manufactured that much regenerative material in …" He checked his watch. "Less than fourteen hours. My most optimistic projection was about twice that."
"Well I ain't gonna kick about it."
"No, no, I suppose not."
"Anyhow, what I came out to ask – and I'm glad you didn't leave, Mr. W. – was, how the heck do I get into this thing?"
"Ah. Yes, the first time is a bit more complicated. You must be introduced."
"… Come again?"
"As with the device we employed last night, the suit needs to 'learn' your mental signature. I wanted to be here to help with that." He gave a nod toward Wally. "And he had many, many questions about the suit and the failsafes it contains. That's what we were discussing when you came in."
"Oh. Okay. Cool." Giving Wally a glance, she asked, "So, are you satisfied?"
"Actually, yeah. Pretty much. Mr. Brewer was … really thorough. He must have thought about this for an awful long time."
"Several years," agreed Mr. Wattersen. "It was close to four years from the time when he first broached the subject to the completion of the prototype. And that was over a decade ago."
Jinx looked shocked. "Wow. That seems like … kind of a long time to develop one product."
"Heh. I suppose. But you must remember, we both had 'day jobs' while we worked on this, and we were using our own funds for all the materials and support structures. Also, there are eight 'earlier-generation' suits back at my house."
"Eight? For who?"
"Oh, not for anyone. Four of them were just sort of 'test bed' type attempts, and two more had dangerous flaws of one type or another. The most recent two were a lot more basic than what you are holding there. Number Seven, for instance, weighs over twenty kilos, which would be unsuitable for most humans to walk around with all day."
"Whoo, got that right!" agreed Wally.
"And Number Eight was based on a material related to Kevlar. It offered reasonable protection, but nothing like what yours will do. Confidentially, he developed that fiber after working on a project for the DoD. He gave them what they wanted, but it got him thinking in a new direction, and that's when he came up with this," he said, pinching the suit's fabric. "The nitrogen-carbon bond is theoretically stronger than the carbon-carbon bond, due to atomic structure, but nobody had been able to demonstrate it as a real-world product. He figured out a way, and it involved an interstitial beryllium ion that remains in the molecule and keeps it flexible."
Jinx's puzzled expression was back. "Well that was over my head like the Astrodome."
"My apologies. I tend to get a bit technical under the best of circumstances, and working with Martin only exacerbated it. He had graduated first in his class with majors in physics, metallurgy, and electronics, then got a Masters in chemical engineering and another in computer applications of electronics, then got three PhD's. Had something like twenty-eight or twenty-nine patents, and could have had a lot more if he'd bothered to submit the paperwork. He was quite the polymath, and never stopped learning. Never satisfied, that was Martin."
"Supergenius, huh?"
"Something like that."
"Well, okay, then. I would like for you to 'introduce' me to the suit. But first I have got to have a shower." And after handing the suit off to Mr. Wattersen, she trotted back to her room.
He turned to Wally and said, "She is quite something, isn't she?"
"Oh, boy."
"You love her very much, don't you?"
"…"
The old gentleman grinned. "You don't need to say anything. I recognized that fact when you answered the door yesterday. Your concern and affection for her dominated your mind."
"… So … do you pick up on stuff like that all the time?"
"More or less, at a low level. Proximity helps, of course, and physical contact will firm up a transmission if one is there already. But, as I said, I can't control it. Sometimes I will go days between episodes, and sometimes I get bombarded for days at a time."
"That sounds … like it could be a problem."
He shrugged. "If I let it. It's one reason I never found the right girl to marry. Spend that much time around an individual and you will always learn something about her that you simply can't get past. Normal people can ignore such things or pretend they don't exist, but I am afraid I don't have that luxury."
"Damn. Sucks to be you some days, huh?"
"Oh, not that often. One adapts."
Wally turned back to the table and tapped a schematic. "So tell me more about this micro-lab thingy …"
##
The 'introduction' went off without a hitch, and Jinx shortly learned how to get the suit to open up along four different seams; it was actually much easier to don the suit than she'd feared. When it closed up and power was applied to the support systems, she got a lower level of that same cool tingle she'd felt the night before from the regeneration device. Her 'happy face' put both men at ease. "This is awesome! Does it feel like this all the time?"
"I don't know. I never put one on. Martin insisted on being his own guinea pig for the various tests we ran. He was a metahuman as well."
"… How's that?"
"He healed at an accelerated rate, much as you do but perhaps somewhat more quickly. Again, nothing that would prove useful in real combat, but nice to have if one is subjecting oneself to accidental electric shock or the possibility of superficial burns."
"That guinea pig thing, right?"
"Exactly." He rubbed his hands together. "So, now, let's try out your suit. You will notice that the helmet, though rigid, melds seamlessly with the neck of the suit. When it is connected, it partakes of the same kinetic-redistribution qualities as the rest of the suit."
"Cool. So how do you want to try it out?"
"Hold out your arm."
She did so, and he tapped it with a thick dowel he'd brought. "Feel that?"
"Uh … kinda. I kinda felt it all over."
"And that's the idea." He rapped her arm harder. She giggled. He hit even harder, but her arm never wavered an iota.
"Oh, that is just beyond cool! Hit me again! No, wait. Hey, Wally, get your dingbat."
"Uh … you sure?"
"Sure, I'm sure! Get it!"
"Okay." He returned in a second with what looked a little like a dark-blue, beefed-up belaying pin. "But this is made of a cobalt superalloy. It doesn't give."
"Whack me."
He sighed and whacked her arm. The dingbat ricocheted as if off hardened tool steel and, again, her arm didn't budge.
"I am so lovin' this!" She raised her arm. "Hit me in the side."
It went on like that for several minutes, with increasingly violent blows, all of which the suit shrugged off. "The only thing is that a really hard whack makes me freeze for a piece of a second while it's doing that distribution thing."
"Is that going to be an issue?"
"Eh. Prob'ly not. If I'm in the middle of a leap or something and get hit, it might make me miss or land wrong."
"True. But you would also be un-perforated. And it won't affect your ability to strike, since the gloves and the boots aren't part of the circuit."
"Works for me." She opened the helmet's visor and looked over at Wally with a glowing smile. "Wanna go patrol?"
"You really sure you're up to it?"
She kicked off, took a three-step run, vaulted over his head, landed behind him, and struck out, stopping her fist half-a-centimeter from his back. "What do you think?"
Returning her grin, he said, "Let's go."
##
* * 1:45pm * *
"Too damn quiet."
Kid Flash smirked at his companion. "You know, some days I like it that way."
"It's boring."
Standing at the edge of the roof, her partner held his arms wide, encompassing the metropolitan area. "Which means that the populace of Keystone City can go about their daily lives uninterrupted by disaster, and since that makes my uncle happy, it suits me just fine."
"Blah-blah-blah. Still bored."
"You just want a chance to try out your super-suit."
She gave him a baleful glare and then slumped slightly.
"Wanna go for lunch?" he offered.
Brightening a little, she responded, "Might as well. There ain't dick happenin' around here."
"You in the mood for anything special?"
"How's Chinese sound?"
"Sweet! A buffet!"
She laughed at him. "Thought that might get your attention, you bottomless pit."
"High metabolism."
"You give that excuse every time."
"It's true every time!"
Giving up, she shook her head. "So, China Star okay with you? They've got sushi."
"Ick. Keep your raw fish. And don't tell Aqualad."
"Like Ol' Squidface would even talk with me. Get real."
"Squidface? You gotta be kiddin' me! You have seen him, haven't you?"
"Eh, once. When we kicked the Brotherhood's ass. I wasn't impressed."
"Heh. You're in the minority opinion then. Shoulda seen Raven's face at the last all-Titans meeting when she caught sight of him. Real, live eye-stars, mouth open, line of drool, little hearts floatin' off her, the whole ball o' wax. I thought BB was gonna shit a brick."
She giggled. "Okay, yeah, I woulda liked to see that." Peering over the side of the building, she said, "Carry me?"
"What, you don't wanna just swan-dive into the pavement? That would test your suit, for sure."
"Funny man. There's still gravity to think about, and I don't believe that sudden deceleration would do my hair any good at all."
"You're gonna have 'helmet hair' no matter what you do, so it don't matter, do it?"
"Keep it up, mister." But she was grinning as she said it. Holding her arms out, she said, "Carry me. You know you want to."
That made him blink a few times. "Wh-what do you mean?"
A wiggle of her fingers was the only answer he got, that and her devious grin. But he loved that grin. And the girl it was attached to. Resigning himself to fate, he picked her up and ran down the side of the building.
##
* * 2:20pm * *
"Slow down, Kid, those pot stickers ain't going nowhere."
Shoveling another half dozen of the dumplings into his mouth, he swallowed and smirked at her. "You never know. They might be Tamaranean pot stickers, and then where would we be? Look away for a second, and they walk off."
"… Eww!"
"I can see you haven't been exposed to Starfire's cooking yet."
"The way you talk about it, that sounds like a good thing."
"I'm goin' after elevenths. You want any more icky-fish?"
"Naw, I'm good." She held up her glass of tea. "I'll just nurse this 'til you're done. If you ever get done."
"Har-har." He set his latest plate on the tall stack at one side of their table and trotted over to the buffet.
On the other side of the restaurant, a petite female figure of late-middle years observed the pair around her menu. A hidden ear-bud whispered to her, Does she have the suit on?
"Yes, of course," she muttered under her breath. "I told you she would, you know."
I know what you said. It doesn't hurt to make sure.
"Whatevah, dahling. She looks … quite comfortable." She adjusted her menu marginally. "Now go bother someone else. Ze waitstaff is getting suspicious."
No need to be all snippy.
She didn't bother with a reply.
##
* * 8:15pm * *
Sitting on the edge of the roof, Jinx had her legs pulled up against her chest and her arms wrapped around them, resting her chin on one knee while she watched the sun drop toward the horizon. A gust of wind pushed against her and Kid Flash was sitting there.
She glanced over at him. "Still dead?"
"Eh. Couple o' Einsteins in Gray's Mill Park tried a mugging. They had sneakers on, so I tied their laces together while they were chasing the girl. Both of 'em face-planted and left some o' their noses on the pavement. That conked 'em out, so I got the girl's statement, tossed 'em into the slammer and gave Sergeant Stevens my report. Besides that, nothin'." He pulled out a pair of switchblades and twirled them. "Souvenirs."
She snorted. "Your 'collection' is gonna take over the spare room."
"I'll donate it to the JLA sometime. Zatanna can keep 'em all in her hat and pull 'em out as needed."
"Oh, she'll love you for that," retorted Jinx, sarcasm dripping off every word.
"Of course she will! Ladies can't help it."
That earned him a dangerous look, and he quickly backpedaled. "Not that I ever do anything about it! Really! Not interested!" Casting about for some other, safer topic, he asked, "Do you get hot in that suit?"
She decided to let it pass and gave him a shrug. "Now that you mention it, no. It's just really comfortable." She stood and stretched, which action he followed appreciatively. The suit clung to her curves and the color scheme accentuated the positive. Putting her arms akimbo, she stated, "Well, it doesn't look like anything weird is gonna happen, so I'm heading for the barn. If I run into anything worth mentioning, I'll give you a buzz, 'k?"
"You … you wanna go … by yourself?" His voice managed to combine incredulity, warning, and hurt into that one, short sentence.
She gave him a smirk and patted his cheek. "Being apart from me for an hour or two won't kill you, Flashy. I'll see you at home." She took a running start and leaped to the next building over, adding a little boost of pink energy to cushion her landing. He watched until she was out of sight, but then he frowned. Hey, wait a minute! My apartment's in the other direction.
##
* * 9:00pm * *
Wally's a sweet guy, but sometimes he just doesn't know where to look.
On a nameless loading dock, Jinx hunkered down in the deep shadow behind a stack of shipping containers, scanning the small railyard for what she felt in her gut was there. Eight days earlier they had busted a moderately large shipment of cocaine, which she knew would make the street price skyrocket and lure more suppliers out of the woodwork. She figured about enough time had passed that another big load should be coming in. And in her experience on the other side of the law, this was the most logical place for it to show up.
Now, there are two facts that you, Gentle Reader, need to know.
First, Jinx's body produced hex energy constantly; this was a condition she accepted as part of her environment, like the air she breathed. Ordinarily it built up in her nervous system, and if she didn't use it, it would bleed off as little 'accidents' around her. That wasn't a real problem most of the time, because she usually had some use for it; so it rarely got up to bothersome levels anymore. But today, as she had noted, was dead as far as criminal activity was concerned. Aside from a couple of little boosts, she hadn't used any of what she produced. The presence of hex energy in her system was something she monitored subconsciously, and it had become a reflex to keep it under dangerous levels. So, unless it got high enough to alert her, she didn't pay it any attention. That's why she didn't notice the discrepancy.
Second, the monitoring system in her super-suit was not quite an AI, but it didn't fall far short. Martin Brewer's genius extended into several disciplines, and he had managed to combine them into a gestalt that was most definitely greater than the sum of the parts. The processor was not only extremely compact, it was evenly distributed throughout the suit, and had eighteen levels of communication redundancy. If it got damaged in one place, those functions would instantly be taken up by other parts. It was designed to acclimate itself to the idiosyncracies of its user, and Mr. Brewer had turned his considerable talent to making sure that it covered all possible contingencies. To that end, he had given the processor a great deal of latitude in 'deciding' what constituted an idiosyncracy. So, shortly after she first donned the suit, the processor had analyzed her production of hex energy, derived the parameters for its use, and modified the suit to help.
Those modifications had been completed about two hours earlier. Now, the suit simply waited for the right conditions.
Jinx stiffened ever so slightly: two men had skulked into the shadows beside a resting train a little over a hundred meters away. As she watched, they were joined by two more from another direction. One man in each pair carried what couldn't be anything but an automatic rifle. She grinned to herself and melted into the night.
##
Carlos Nunoz studied the shriveled man before him and sneered in private contempt. But he said nothing that might piss the fellow off. This idiot was paying a premium for his shipment, so Carlos could afford to be magnanimous, even if he did consider those who dipped into their own stores to be the stupidest of the stupid. He glanced back at Nacio, his muscle, and muttered in Spanish, "He's not long for this world."
Nacio shrugged and hefted his AK-47, maintaining a stoic silence as he studied the M14 his counterpart carried. His position didn't require much more than a wary eye and a good aim, and those he supplied handily.
Carlos nodded at the other two men. "Mr. Watson, I trust you found our samples adequate?"
The emaciated man gave a short, sharp nod and asked, "Which car?"
"First, the money."
Mr. Watson passed him a briefcase. Carlos clicked it open and said, "Should I count it?"
"You think I'd be stupid enough to stiff MS13?"
You're stupid enough to waste your life on crack, was the thought that ran immediately through Carlos's mind, but he simply grinned and said, "I suppose not."
"Then which car is it in?"
"Follow me." He led them down to the fourteenth boxcar, and produced a key. "It is marked 'LIMES – CHILI'."
"That's good to know!" said a voice from above them. "Thanks!"
Both gunmen swiveled and brought their weapons to bear on the slim figure, but she leaped as they were firing. She nailed a perfect landing about five meters away and unleashed a hex at each rifle. And that's where it got really, really interesting.
Her intent had been to damage and disable the gas tube mechanism, rendering each rifle into nothing but a clumsy club. What happened instead was that both gunmen tripped and fell, and in the process of falling pulled the triggers again. The gunfire slashed downward and across in perfectly symmetric arcs, putting multiple holes in each member of the opposing group. All four men fell, dead before they hit the gravel.
Jinx stood there for a second, shocked into immobility, the word 'NO!' reverberating around in her head several times. Then, her instinct for self-preservation taking over, she high-tailed it to the edge of the yard and found a concealed place from which to watch as the railyard security showed up. Half a minute and one frantic radio call later, she saw Kid Flash appear. And that was her cue to leave.
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[Author's Note: Well, once again the characters have taken over the story. Now I'm the one interested in seeing where this is going. I trust Muse to tell me.
Let me know what you think, okay?]