Hi, guys... I know that it's been way too long, but before you try to strangle me I do have a very long explanation for why I was not able to update. Well, first we had a blizzard that knocked down a power line right as I had finished typing the rough draft, so my document did not save and I didn't have any power for the next week. Then I got a crapload of essays that I had to write out by hand and candlelight because there was no power! Then, as I was typing up the final draft, my laptop died. So after a huge headache, I finally retyped it, saving it every five minutes of course, and now I'm uploading it for my lovely readers. Thanks so much for all your faves and reviews; it really inspired me to keep writing. Hope you enjoy the story! P.S. I changed Red X's costume description in chapter one because I wanted to differentiate between the one in the Teen Titans show and my version of the thief.
"I can't believe you got your butt handed to you by a third-rate cat burglar," Wally West, AKA the Kid Flash, exclaimed to his best friend, Robin the Boy Wonder. It was the day after the Red X incident and Robin had come to the mountain base right after school to hang out with his teammates. He was now officially on Thanksgiving break for the next week, but even with the euphoria of no school, he still felt irritated about the confrontation with the masked thief. Robin had just finished telling Wally about what had happened while they were sitting at the kitchen counter sharing a plate of cookies and milk that M'gann had made for them before she left to go on a date with Superboy. Aqualad was away with Aquaman and Artemis was in the archery room, which left the two boys alone to talk.
"I didn't get my butt handed to me," Robin grumbled, putting his head on his hands. "He got away and disappeared when he jumped off the roof. I couldn't find a trail after that." The Boy Wonder picked a new cookie and dipped it in his glass of milk, gesturing at Wally to have the rest of the plate. Wally happily complied, pulling the plate closer to himself and simultaneously shoving three cookies in his mouths. There was a comfortable silence, only broken by the hum of the refrigerator and Wally's noisy chewing. Robin watched a bead of condensation roll down the outside of the glass. Wally finished chewing his mouthful and picked up another cookie before turning to his friend.
"Did you ask Batman for help?" The speedster asked curiously. Robin scowled at his friend and shook his head.
"Of course not!" Robin said. "I want to catch Red X for myself." He pounded his fist on the counter for emphasis and Wally rolled his eyes.
"Well, I'm going to help you do it," Wally said, smiling as if he had told Robin that he won the lottery. Robin, however, laughed out loud. "What?" He asked indignantly. "It'll be asterous and you know it." Robin just smirked and shook his head.
"You want to come to Gotham City with me?" Robin asked incredulously. Wally nodded enthusiastically, his red haired head blurring a little. "Just promise not to get us killed by flirting with Catwoman or anyone with a pulse." Robin joked.
"I don't flirt with everything that has a pulse," he protested, but was interrupted when a voice rang out in the quiet kitchen.
"You do too, Baywatch," Artemis said, walking into the kitchen. She stopped by the counter and stole a cookie off the nearly empty plate before Wally could stop her. "Robin, if you need my help, I know Gotham very well. I grew up there, before, um, moving to Star City to be with Green Arrow."
"No way! You're not tagging along. And were you eavesdropping on us?" Wally said angrily, rising off his stool and standing in front of the archer. Artemis continued to eat her cookie and glare at the speedster.
"You done?" She asked mockingly. She put her hands on her hips and glared at the speedster. "I was getting a bottled water and caught the tail end of your conversation." Artemis then turned to Robin and ignored Wally. "You could probably use a more competent fighter than Kid Mouth over there." She jerked her thumb and the red head, who spluttered indignantly. Robin thought for a moment and shrugged.
"Thanks. I can use all the help I can get," he said smiling at the archer, who waved away his words and continued to the fridge for her water. Wally slouched on his chair with his arms across his chest and pouted. Robin clapped his hands together, excitement replacing the irritation from earlier. "Let's see what we can dig up about Red X."
"Shane! Over here," Samantha Crain called out to her best friend. Sam, one of the smartest kids in their school, was able to hack into just about any computer or security program and supplied Red X with the information he needed on his targets. The petite girl jumped up and down, waving her friend over to her locker. She got a few stares, but she didn't care what the student body thought about her, which was what Shane liked the most about Sam.
The teen thief shook his head smiling and slammed his locker shut which was, to him, the sound that meant the end of the school and his freedom. After he left the school, Shane Harris would officially be on Thanksgiving break. This is something that most high school sophomores would agree should be celebrated and Shane was no exception to the rule. He had plans to take Sam to the big football game tonight at the school. Cutting through the throng of students that were surging towards the outside world, he made it to Sam and gave her a hug.
"Hello, beautiful. How was your day?" He asked her, giving her a crooked smile and waiting for the onslaught of complaints about homework and teachers that were part of their daily after school routine.
"Oh, you know, the usual. My trig teacher gave us about ten thousand pages of homework on triangles and who even cares that much..." She began and he tuned her out, nodding and sympathizing with her at the appropriate parts. Soon, his mind began to wander as they made it through the main entrance doors and he began to think about last night's heist. The thrill of fighting Robin and escaping with his loot was still fresh in his mind. He remembered the adrenaline rush he received from jumping off that rooftop and falling faster and faster, the feeling of the wind rushing through his hair. He wasn't proud of it, but he was a major adrenaline junkie; he couldn't help it. At least it was safer than drugs, most of the time. He was brought back to reality by Sam calling his name.
"Shane! Were you listening to a word I said?" She asked, exasperated. They had stopped walking and she was impatiently tapping her foot.
"Yeah, sorry. I was thinking about last night," he whispered excitedly. Sam rolled her eyes, knowing that she would get the full story later. They had made it to the outside stairs and were about to leave school grounds when a bully pushed a smaller kid to the asphalt. She turned to tell Shane tonot to get involved with it, but he was already halfway across the parking lot, walking with determined steps.
"You loser! You gave me the test answers and I failed. I ain't allowed to play in the big game tonight, so now I'm gonna' take it out on your face!" The bully, a big, ugly linebacker for the school team picked the poor kid up by the front of his shirt with one hand. The other was already pulled back into a fist, poised to hit. The tormenter is a senior named Todd Ank, but people just call him Tank because of his large girth. Not the sharpest, or prettiest, tool in the shed, Tank uses his larger size to bully anyone smaller than him into giving him their homework and test answers, which is how the freshman scrambling to release himself from Tank's grasp, arrived in this situation.
Just as the bully was going to strike his victim, Shane grabbed the fist.
"Pick on someone your own size," he growled menacingly. The bully laughed in his face and dropped the freshman, apparently forgetting about him. The freshman gratefully nodded at Shane in thanks and scurried off before he was remembered. Tank turned and pushed Shane in the chest and he stumbled back a few steps. Sam was torn between letting Shane teach the big loser a lesson or saving the bully from getting the crap beat out of him.
"Like you, dipshit?" He asked, his breath hot on Shane's face. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He looked over at Sam who was looking at him worriedly, one foot pointed in his direction. "You shouldn't have interfered 'cause now I'm gonna' take my frustration out on you," the football player growled, grabbing the front of Shane's shirt this time. Shane smirked, the adrenaline already pumping through his veins with anticipation.
He stomped on the bully's foot and then sucker punched him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. While the kid was bent over clutching his stomach and groaning, Shane grabbed his opponent's head and smashed his knee into Tank's face. He heard a crack and blood started to gush from his nose. Shane threw him to the ground with disgust. He turned to Sam, giving her a crooked smile, but she rolled her eyes again.
"Shane Harris! Step into my office, please." Shane cringed and sighed, turning to face the source of the voice. It was his assistant principle Mr. Blight. He was an balding man in his fifties that hated anyone not on a sports team and was notorious for making the student body miserable if he caught you doing something you weren't supposed to be doing. Shane looked back over at Sam who was mouthing, I'll call you later, to him. She quickly walked away before she got punished for being involved. "Get inside now, young man!"
Shane huffed and walked over to Mr. Blight, leaving Tank on the ground clutching his nose and howling like a baby. The man held the door open for him and pointed to an open doorway close to the main entrance. Shane stalked in and flopped down on an empty chair in front of the assistant principal's desk. He waited for the repercussions that came with protecting an innocent boy from a bully. Now he knew how Batman felt when the police turned against him.
The desk was bare of any pictures of family because his wife had recently divorced him and who could blame her. The assistant principal strolled over to his desk with an arrogant air and sat down, facing Shane and clasping his hands together.
"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, young man?" Mr. Blight asked. He had a habit for calling his victims young man or young lady when he was about to ruin their week. Shane knew that trying to argue with this man was futile and that even if he was right, Mr. Blight would still favor the bully, but that didn't stop him from trying. "I believe that Mr. Ank may have a broken nose, judging from the amount of blood on the faculty parking lot."
"Mr. Blight, it wasn't my fault! That jerk was picking on this kid and I had to step in or he would have been pummeled-" Mr. Blight waved his hand, cutting Shane off.
"Excuses, excuses, young man. All I saw was poor Mr. Ank being smacked around for no reason. And judging from the bruise on your chin," Shane touched his chin gingerly, keeping to himself that he didn't receive the bruise from the confrontation with the bully. "-he was probably trying to defend himself against your merciless attack. He probably won't even be able to play in today's game because of you." The old man paused for dramatic effect. "When school resumes after the break, you will have one week's detention." Shane jumped up in protest.
"But that's not fair!" Mr. Blight shook his head.
"Now, young man, I know that these past few months have been hard for you since the death of your mother, but that does not mean you can take your anger out on innocent boys. Maybe you would benefit from some afterschool counseling," Blight said disdainfully, but this was said to an empty seat because Shane was already at the door.
"You know nothing about me," he said darkly before slamming the door shut. The sound echoed throughout the corridor, making several people turn their heads. He shouldered his backpack and stalked out of the school. The start to his spring break was not starting out as well as he had hoped.
Shane's mood was still dark as he loitered across the street from the Goodwill shop. He tried to dispel the memories that Mr. Blight had dredged up at the mention of his mother. he didn't want to talk about her; didn't want to think about her. It hurt too much. He shook his head viciously before calming down and taking a seat on a bus stop bench. A cheery realtor peered out from behind him, promising to help him locate his dream home.
He looked back up towards the charity store, watching the cashier behind the counter. He was waiting for her to leave and do something in the back room so he could drop off the money in the charitable donations box. He didn't want to be asked any questions about the amount of money he was carrying: ten thousand dollars worth. After nursing his wounds last night, he had counted and split the loot in half, keeping ten thousand for himself to pay for whatever needed to be paid for at home.
Finally, the cashier moved away from the counter and walked out of sight. Working quickly, Shane pulled on his gloves, so he wouldn't leave any fingerprints and grabbed the bag of money from his backpack. Slinging the pack over his shoulder, he dashed across the empty street. As soon as his feet touched the pavement he went into "stealth mode" and quietly opened the door, making sure the bells wouldn't jingle. He made sure there was no-one in sight before ripping open the box, a large plain one only a quarter of the way filled up with donations that sat on top of the front counter and opened his burlap sack. The money poured out in a stream of green, stopping when the box was two thirds of the way filled.
Satisfied with his work, he quickly shut the undecorated lid, save for the word 'Donations' written on it in black marker, and made his way back into the chilly November afternoon. Shane stuffed the empty bag into his backpack and continued down the street. His bad mood from earlier had lifted considerably and even started to whistle to himself.
He began to plot out the rest of his day, starting with going home to change before walking over to Sam's house and escorting her to the big football game that started at seven. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice the white-haired man until he was standing right in front of him.
"Hello, Shane," the mysterious man greeted him. Shane took a step back, feeling a little uneasy. The man was tall and well built, as if he had been born in a gym. He looked young, but his short, army-like white hair made him look older. Half of his face was covered by large, black sunglasses that Shane could see his own reflection in.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" He asked politely, wondering how the hell this stranger knew his name.
"Not as well as I know you," the man said with a smirk. "Though I am hoping to get to know you a lot more in time." The last part sent shivers down Shane's spine and his mind started to churn up escape strategies. Shane decided to play the role of a naive schoolboy, to have the man underestimate him.
"I think you have the wrong-" Shane began, but was cut off when the guy interrupted him.
"How did you come by so much money? Did you get win it from the lottery?" The stranger questioned rudely; Shane bristled with anger. He was also a little fearful that the man was going to report him to the police for stealing.
"You don't know me, now get out of the way before I move you myself," he snarled and pushed past him. The white-haired man just laughed and grabbed Shane's arm in a death grip.
"Feisty, I like it," he chuckled. With his next words, the stranger lowered his voice to a whisper so that quiet, that Shane had to strain to hear it even though he was standing right next to the man. "I'll see you again very soon, Red X."
Shane's body went cold and his heart beat quickened to a pace that had him thinking that it was going to bounce itself right out of his chest. He cursed himself mentally for allowing someone to figure out his identity and he quickly thought of all the worst case scenarios that his enemies, the wealthy and influential people that he had stolen from, would do to him and his friends. When Shane finally came back to reality, the white-haired man was nowhere to be found and his departure left a steel weight in the pit of Shane's stomach.
He rubbed his face tiredly and then continued along the route that would lead to his house, but he quickened his pace and looked over his shoulder every few yards to make sure the mysterious man was not following him. Since he was the only person on that street, nobody had seen their confrontation and that had Shane worried. He considered not going to the football game with Sam, afraid that he might endanger her, but the desire to be with her outweighed his paranoia. He had no idea who the man in the sunglasses was or how he had come to know of his secret, but Shane knew that he would die before he hurt anybody, namely Sam.
Shane shook his head and laughed to himself because he knew that if it came down to a fight, he would have more than enough skill to win.
Can you guess who the guy after Shane is? I'll give you a hint. It's not Slade! He first appears in the 90s Batman comics and continues on through out the Robin and the Batgirl comics as well. I wanted to go with someone different because I think that Deathstroke is used way to much whenever Robin is involved, but this character is actually very similar to Slade and even teams up with him at one point. R&R please. =)