Yay 40s. Whoo. And, uh, all that, I guess…
Agh, well, my laptop is broken, so… I haven't been able to write any Noir, or, indeed, anything, so… I'm kind of annoyed about that.
Hn, it is two in the morning in UK time, so guess I'll just cut right to the thankyous:
AlsoSprachOdin (oh, well, I'm glad I was able to set the scene for you. And a DBZ fan, huh? I used to be one of you…); Me (thrilled you got the stupid site to work, m'dear!); LoopyLousise123 (I see Arthur Miller is getting to you. Never fear – at least he was a good writer! Cy and BB are always amusing…); Laurapen (this site is funny like that. Some fics are really awesome and deserve tons of reviews and have hardly any; and some others absolutely suck and have like 50+ for one chapter. It's so unfair…); Quinn and His Quill (no, that wasn't another link. I have no idea when I've Got You Under My Skin was written. Hopefully before 1948… Glad you decided to stick with this, anyway!); Ash Wednesday (thankyou! Cool pen name, BTW!); Narroch (I can't watch Law and Order. It's on Sky and I don't have Sky anymore… Now you've reopened the wounds! Sob…); and Guardian of Azarath (no matter the place, no matter the time-zone, I think Cy and BB are forever destined to fight about food. But we love 'em anyway!).
Okay, introducing… Raven and Starfire!
Nametag
The departure of the waitress – Tara, Garfield's new and most coveted squeeze – left the three detectives sitting in uncomfortable hanging silence; until Vic Stone broke it by going through his pockets in search of cigarettes. He came up broke and looked between his two colleagues hopefully.
"Dry," Robin said shortly after checking his own pockets. "I got a lighter, but nothing to light."
"You know I gave up," Gar said coolly.
"Well, someone snag a smokes girl the next time one comes past…"
An unfortunate cigarette girl was soon located and beckoned to; she looked as though there were a million things she would rather be doing than prancing around a swing lounge in a skimpy costume with a tray of cigarettes at her waist.
In fact, she really didn't fit the bill at all. She was certainly pretty, but small in stature – petite and slender, not busty and leggy like her fellow cigarette dolls. And the rest of them all wore ruby lipstick and wore their hair arranged in the fashion of the era – curled and pinned up. This girl had dead straight hair, dark and only shoulder length, and wore little to no make-up whatsoever. Her eyes were an intense, moody violet.
Robin blinked and stared at her as she went over to Vic, who he ran his gaze scrutinizingly over the selection in her tray. After choosing, he made his purchase, handing her two quarters – one for the cigarettes and one for herself, he said. She thanked him, looking surprised by his generosity, and started to walk away; Gar getting himself a good view of her butt in her tight little skirt as she passed him.
On impulse, Robin grasped her elbow as she passed him, making her jump and turn quite defensively.
"Cigarettes?" She asked mechanically, her arm still stiff beneath his fingers.
He looked at her for a very long time, and she looked right back at him – sapphire meeting amethyst.
"Raven," he said finally, still gazing hard into her eyes.
She stiffened further, and, sensing her discomfort, he slid his hand off her arm. She looked at him a little while longer, silent, her eyes wide; and then turned away and walked off, still wordless.
"What?" Robin snapped, practically feeling the gazes of Vic and Gar burning into his back.
"How did you know her name?" Gar demanded. "I thought you said you hadn't been here before?"
"I haven't."
"Then how…?"
"Nametag," Robin fabricated.
"Yeah, well, she was standing right next to me," Vic put in nonchalantly, flipping open his cigarette packet, "and I know she wasn't wearing a nametag, smart guy."
Robin opened his mouth, and then closed it again wordlessly, floored.
"Well," he finally started with conviction, "I-I…"
The lights suddenly dropped, bringing him to a startled halt. Vic and Gar looked around too, puzzled at the sudden darkness.
"Hey, what's goin' on here?" Vic asked loudly.
Robin watched him push back his jacket to reveal the gun in its holster strapped underneath, his fingers inching towards it.
He opened his mouth to voice his own opinion, but someone got there first;
"Put that away!" Tara was back with a small tray of appetizers, her tone and expression irked.
"Trouble?" Robin asked, putting down his glass.
Tara snorted, putting down the tray.
"Far from. It's the entertainment, pal. Put the gun away!"
With an abashed grin, Vic let his jacket fall back into place.
Now that his attention had been brought to it, Robin noted that pianist had stopped playing. Instead a spotlight had appeared on the still-empty stage, and colored synthetic lights shone from the ceiling, washing over both stage and audience. There was a rattling and rustling from the previously vacated bandstand, where a few musicians were setting up shop.
"Is it the girl who was singing on Saturday?" Gar asked.
Tara sat on the edge of his seat, nudging up next to him.
"Yeah," she replied. "She's good. A great singer, and an even better performer…"
"Who?" Vic demanded, helping himself to some hot fried king prawns from a small basket on the tray.
Gar grinned.
"You'll see…"
Tara giggled.
And in that instant – the seconds that engulfed his grin and her giggle – the colored lights washed over them.
Green.
Then yellow.
For a moment, Gar's skin became green.
For a moment, Tara's eyes glowed fiery gold.
And then the light moved on, and he was left staring at them; two names put to two faces in his reeling mind.
Beast Boy. The shapeshifter. The jokester.
And Terra. The earthmover. The traitor.
The two in question did not notice him staring bug-eyed at them; Tara giggling once again as she fed Garfield a piece of fried bread from another sizzling basket. She was far more interested in him than in her job, that much was obvious.
Nothing much escaped Victor Stone's notice, however.
"Hey." Vic snapped his finger in front of Robin's face. "Dick? You okay there?"
"I…" Robin put a hand to his forehead. "I don't know…"
"What's wrong with you today?" Vic pressed on, exasperated.
"That dream…" Robin groaned in reply.
"Oh, will you give it a rest?" Vic snapped. "Why are you so wired up about it?"
"Because it's so real, Vic. I'm seeing it everywhere – people, places… This place, in fact. The Batcave…"
"The cigarette doll?" Vic asked warily.
"Yeah." Robin massaged his hair wearily. "I've never seen her before, Vic. Ever. And yet I dreamt about her…"
"Which was she?"
"Raven. The empath."
"The what now?"
"The witch girl," Robin snapped.
"And Garfield there?" Vic nodded towards the other detective.
"Beast Boy." Robin sighed deeply. "Shapeshifter. Green skin."
"You just figured that one out?"
"Yeah. Because of the light. He looked green for a second or so, and…"
Vic shook his head incredulously.
"You're cracking up, pal…"
Robin rubbed at his temples with his thumbs.
"Maybe I am," he said softly.
"Perhaps you should go down and see Quinzel on the third floor there."
"Ha." Robin looked at him sourly. "Great idea, Vic. Go see the resident criminal psychologist…"
"Emphasis on criminal."
"Shut up."
"Whoa." Vic looked intently at him. "This is really eatin' you, isn't it?"
Robin nodded miserably.
"I just… It's completely knocked my view of reality about…"
"Look, trust me." Vic's gaze was piercing, unwavering. "This is real. This life, everyone here, everything you see around you. Your superhero stuff? I'm afraid it's in your head, no matter how real or uncanny any of this may seem."
"I know, I know. And that's… that's where I want it to be. In my head, I mean."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Then stop fussing." Vic snapped his fingers at the stage. "There, look. A dame to take your mind off it all…"
Robin looked up at the stage, where the curtains had risen and a tall, slender female form in a floor-length crimson evening gown was making her way towards the lone microphone, front and center-stage. A few whistles and catcalls accompanied her entrance, but she ignored them professionally.
From where they were sitting, their view of her wasn't great – since they were back alongside the left-hand side of the stage. Robin and Vic could really only see her from the back – Garfield might have had a better view if he wasn't too busy devouring Tara in the same fashion Vic was devouring the appetizers.
He could see that she had long red hair, and wore white gloves that extended above her elbows. The dress was deep-backed, strapless, and sewn with tiny glittering red gems.
She was strangely beautiful from the back; and yet stranger still, amidst his admiration for that beauty, Detective Dick Grayson was struck with the sudden fanciful idea that she wouldn't be able to sing very well.
He was proven very, very wrong a few moments later when she opened her mouth. Her voice was as beautiful as her visage – soft, melodic, low, even a little husky. The words she sang, however, were meaningless to him – were they even English? He couldn't understand a word she was saying, nor again could he truly comprehend the music.
He looked at Vic, who was leaning back, listening to her languidly, a soft smile on his dark face.
Vic didn't seem puzzled or perplexed at all. Maybe he hadn't even noticed.
Garfield was preoccupied, of course…
Okay. Fine. Robin leaned back, trying to relax and enjoy himself, his martini clutched loosely in his fingers. He allowed the music to simply wash over him, not caring whether he could understand or comprehend or remember it or not.
An animated cheer accompanied her final line; a mix of encouragement and more whistles and cries of "Encore!".
An emcee stepped up to the microphone, adjusting his bowtie with one hand as he gripped the metal pole with the other.
"Ladies and gentlemen, you've heard her before here at the Batcave – you know her, you love her, and she never fails to disappoint!" He cried, one arm around the girl's shoulders. "So would you please throw your fedoras in the air and raise the roof so much that they can here you all the way in Arkham Asylum for Miss Kory Anders, known exclusively to you all here tonight as the one, the only… Starfire!"
Robin, who had been suavely sipping at his drink, explosively spat his mouthful back into the glass at the sound of that name. Vic's eyebrows arched dramatically as he watched his partner do it – one moment he was being Mr Cool over there, the next he had martini coming out of his nose.
"What is wrong with you, Dick?" Vic hissed, thrusting a napkin at him to mop himself up with.
"That… name…!" Robin choked. He looked up at the stage as he wiped his face dry, watching the girl – Kory Anders; Starfire – launch into another deep, moody blues number. This one seemed to have more swing and rhythm to it, for she swayed her hips and tossed her hair this time around. Her movement was strong, graceful – as though that of a dancer, a warrior. And then she started to move further still – to stride across the stage as though a catwalk model, her long legs and killer heels visible beneath the long slit up one side of the skirt.
Robin stared at her.
Stared and stared and stared at her.
Partly in fascination. By her looks, her body, her voice, her movement. He was stunned by her very presence – and perhaps not the only one here, at that.
On the other hand, he was most definitely the only one here imagining her flying and shooting green laser beams from her hands and eyes.
Because this was her. Koriand'r, crowned princess of the planet Tamaran.
Starfire.
Robin looked at Vic, who was giving him The Eye. Dejected, he looked away again towards the stage.
Starfire, who had been sitting momentarily on the table to the right of the stage, singing directly to the fat, graying business man sitting there, unwrapped her legs from the microphone cord and gracefully ascended onto the stage again, crossing it boldly with the clear intention of going across to sit on the table at the other side.
Which was their table.
Robin recoiled as she neared the steps leading down from the stage right to their table.
"Vic," he hissed, "she's coming over here!"
"I know." Vic seemed a lot less distressed; mostly probably because he didn't think he was cracking up into the bargain too.
Gar didn't notice.
Starfire reached the table, her expression sultry, determined, even a little bored, as though she knew mens' reactions towards her were fruitless.
Whether they were recoiling from her, such as the resident Detective Grayson there; or leering and grabbing at her, like some of the other guys.
She sat on the table's surface right next to Vic, who simply grinned at her; even when she leaned right into him, practically whispering the lyrics of the song in his ear. He just smiled, unmoving, his cigarette slack between his fingers.
That was Vic. Cool in all situations. Well, most…
She pulled her feet up onto the table and rose gracefully atop its surface, giving her immense height as she sang a few very powerful lines amidst much cheering. The music swelled, going into an instrumental break in the song, and on top of their table Starfire launched into her best slice of dancing yet.
Even Garfield had come up for air at this point, and was watching her, mesmerized; as Tara clung to his arm, grinning up at the singer. Her writhing movement was further enhanced by the colored light that was washing over her; transforming her into a creature of rainbow qualities.
It was when the green once again descended, first upon her – bathing her in emerald, as though the alien power he had dreamt of. It played across her eyes, flashed on her fingernails, and maybe at this point he really was half-expecting her to actually lift right off the table's surface and into the air.
He averted his eyes from her and glanced across at Gar.
He too was green again.
Robin stood up abruptly. He was going to go crazy if he sat here one more moment—
As though she had been waiting for him to move, Starfire had stepped down and blocked his path in an instant. He stopped, stepping backwards in shock, and she pushed him back into his seat. The music died down and slowed again, and she began to sing once again, leaning down towards him. Pissed, he made to get up again, and she straddled his lap to prevent him from doing so, making him freeze up and stay exactly where he was.
She slowly and deliberately reached behind her and picked up his fedora, not breaking her gaze with him; just as she didn't when she placed it at an angle on her own head.
He did nothing but continue to stare right at her; angry, perplexed, stunned and turned on all at once. Her fixated attention on him and him alone was causing a few murmurs amongst the rest of the audience, not to mention a few laughs. Maybe it was jealousy; but either way, the detective was becoming very uncomfortable with her undivided attention.
She eyed him for a moment or two more; then leaned right into him, her mouth at his ear.
"What would you like?" She whispered. She withdrew, gazing at him.
He looked right back at her and, after some debate, told the truth;
"I'd like you to get the hell off me."
She laughed; sang another line or two, not budging.
"Perhaps you would like this too?" She asked softly as the music played in her stead. She touched the side of his face, bringing her mouth right up close to his.
But she left it there, as though imploring him to close the gap. Another few centimeters was all it would take…
He heard a few gasps ripple through the male population of the audience and decided that kissing guests wasn't a regular feature of Starfire's cabaret show.
He didn't close the gap, much as he would have liked to.
"Perhaps I could ask you the same thing…"
She sat back.
"I do not understand…"
He didn't offer anything else and eventually, starting to sing the final reprise of the chorus, Starfire slid off his lap and slinked gracefully back to the stage, still wearing his fedora. He watched her go, thoroughly unnerved.
"Dick?" Vic put a hand on his shoulder, making him jump. "You alright there after that?"
"Yeah." Robin shook him off and stood a second time, this time without a determined cabaret singer to stop him. "I'm just going to get some air…"
"The food will be here soon!" Vic protested.
Robin ignored him, making for the balcony doors to the left. He pushed open the doors and stepped into the crisp, icy night, putting a wall between himself and that accursed club.
Up on stage, Starfire wrapped up her second song, watching him leave…
TT
The "balcony" doesn't overlook anything as such, but it's designed as a balcony is, and I guess it's very quiet and private. For the moment, I'm glad to the only one out here – although I have the feeling that perhaps Garfield and his new girlfriend might impede on that privacy a little later…
I lean on the rail and put my head in my hands.
It's all there. All these faces, all these names, all these locations. The waitress. The smokes girl. The singer…
Oh yes, that singer…
Maybe I am going insane…
"I think she liked you."
I whirl, my stance knowledgably taut and defensive; but I find my addressor to be only…
"You know my name," the cigarette girl says pointedly. "How?"
"Nametag?" I try hopefully.
She smiles thinly, gesturing at the top part of her uniform.
"I'm not wearing one. None of us cigarette girls do."
"Well, maybe we met someplace before then…"
"I don't think so." She eyes me warily, as though she does not trust me at all. "I do not recognize you."
"There's a thousand people in this city that look like me, I can guarantee you."
Raven crosses the balcony, leaning against the rail, right up next to me. I can see that her smokes tray is now missing from her ensemble, but she's got a packet and a lighter tucked into the waistband of her skirt. She pulls it out now, flipping open the lid and taking one out with her teeth. She offers me the packet. I mean to refuse and take one anyway, thanking her even as I blink at it. She lights her own deftly and offers the lighter to me; I do refuse this time, tucking the cigarette behind my ear.
She smirks, however; and first reaches up to take the unlit cigarette back, simultaneously placing her own lit one between my fingers. She lights up her new one and continues to smile still as I stare at her incredulously.
"Don't look at me like that, copper," she says airily, watching the smoke. "There's some unwritten rule that makes you obliged to have a smoke with a cigarette girl if she offers you one free of charge."
"Is there indeed?" I arch an eyebrow at her and she smirks. She's an amusing one – intelligent, well-educated, I can tell. "And how did you know I was with the police?"
"Nametag." Her expression is deadpan.
I can't help but smile.
"No, really."
"That's the truth, copper."
She gestures at my badge with her cigarette – I tend to wear my GCPD crest on my chest, to the left. Most other guys wear theirs on their belt or even on the band of their hat, Vic and Gar included…
"Right." I absently touch my badge as I watch her. "Well, I'm a detective, not a regular cop."
She regards me with another small smile.
"You don't say…" Her cigarette becomes a demonstrating instrument again as she points lazily at my head. "You'd look more detective-like if you had a hat."
"You saw that, huh?"
"Everyone saw that."
"Hm." I smoke in silence for a little while, the taste of tobacco a bitter comfort. "Does she often do that?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Take people's hats?"
"Sometimes. You're not the first she has done it to."
"Ah. Yes."
"You are, on the other hand, the first she has tried to kiss in the middle of a performance."
I arch my eyebrows – slightly pleased by this, and slightly pissed.
"Lucky me."
"Indeed." The cigarette doll seems amused by all of this.
"You know her, then?" I ask offhandedly.
"Yes. She's my room-mate. We share an apartment."
I blink at her.
"Small world," I acknowledge, admittedly surprised by this.
"It is," Raven agrees. " Tara is also a friend of ours. She has a place of her own, though. I heard she is serving you tonight."
"I think she's "serving" Gar more than she is serving me and Vic…" I mutter.
"Are all GCPD members as foul-mouthed as you?" Raven asks nonchalantly.
I think for a second. Bullock has my ass beat; and so does Vic sometimes too.
"Afraid so."
She looks at me for a little while; then shrugs.
"Comes from dirty talking with the criminals, hmm?"
"You could say that."
There's another long period of silence between us – it's not uncomfortable, it's just… there.
Eventually she pulls something out from her apron – a small white rectangle and a pen. She scribbles something down and hands it to me.
It's an address.
"Come and get your hat back next time you're passing through, since I don't think she'll be returning it tonight," she says, beginning to walk away. "I'm sorry, I have to get back to work."
"Alright. Thanks."
She looks at me one last time and slips back into the club, leaving me on my own again. I look at the address again, staring hard at it, as though trying to etch every pen stroke into my very mind.
It's written on a slim rectangle of thick card. Curious, I turn the card over.
It says RAVEN.
It's a freaking nametag.
TT
I guess I kind of reinvented Starfire as a sort of Jessica Rabbit character. She's even pretty much wearing Jessica's dress…
I was going to draw a pic, but I didn't, so… maybe next time!
Thankyou and goodnight!
RobinRocks xXx