She'd never been on a picnic before. Never smelled the crisp, clean scent of the grass laying beneath the soft folds of a blanket as she sat in the light breeze. Never sat with someone who wanted nothing more than to simply be near her, hear her voice, see her face. Already she could feel the faintest of blushes creeping across the bridge of her nose like ivy up the side of some old abandoned building. It was all so wonderfully alien, this place, nothing like her home and her family, nothing like the constant fear of what or who was waiting around the bend in the next hall. Would she find empty solace or searing pain? How ironic that in such a dystopic and ruined shell that housed such horrors and dangers she would find a haven. A light brush of fingertips across the back of her hand snapped her back from her musings. He was grinning at her, the owner of those fingertips, in that beautiful way only he seemed able to. Grinning and holding a small battered box out towards her. The knot in her stomach that grin had given life to, twisted tighter ever so slightly. Ears burning red, she realized he had been speaking to her all the while, ignoring her oblivious sinking into daydreams.
"What is it?"
"Nope…open it first."
He had gotten her a gift, not an easy task in this shattered and wonderful world. Part of her was already building up a rebuke for why he really shouldn't have, fully meaning it. But he was still smiling at her and in spite of herself she could feel the corners of her mouth ticking upwards. He was truly contagious that way. So, without any further hesitation, she took the small box from his hands not allowing the small jolt of electricity that rode up her spine to show as their fingers brushed once more. It was not very heavy, and she could feel its contents give a slight shift as it passed from one grasp into the next, sensitive ears picking up the sliding sound of whatever it held. Raising a single eyebrow up questioningly she shot him the briefest of glances before opening the hinged top with a small creak.
The necklace was far from new, but really what was truly new in this wasted place? New or not, it had recently been meticulously cleaned and polished, setting the grey toned metal to a gleaming shine. Eyes widening she slipped her fingers into the small velvety lined box and around the thin silver chain. Gingerly, she lifted it up watching as the round Celtic knot swung slowly in lazy circles from the breeze, tracing the intricate crisscrossing of the circles that formed it. His eyes were still on her when she looked up, his grin softening but still present on his face. It was so easy to see the anxious expectation in those eyes, to see that he was awaiting her approval.
"Why?"
"No reason…thought it would make you smile…."
She did smile…then she leaned forward without so much as a warning and pressed her lips softly into his own. It was a clumsy kiss, sweet for all its inexperience and he leaned into it with equal eagerness. She should have known better than to do this. Already she had fallen, fallen deep and fallen hard. It was so easy to fall for his smile despite the storm that was up ahead. It was a smile just for her. For once she had something that was just for her that no one could take away. But that wasn't the only reason was it? She should have known so much better than to relish the feeling of his fingers combing through her hair and not simply because of the terrible herald she was. No there was something more than that, gnawing viciously at the back of her mind as the kiss deepened. Swatting at it, battening it down she felt only the brushing of fingers against her cheek, tangled deep in her hair, the pleasant heat coursing across her face, burning a pit in her stomach.
All at once her mouth filled not with his taste, which she still remembered so clearly, but with the cold taste of copper. His lips against her own grew cold and unyielding. Warmth and wet were coating her hands and the blanket below, as laughter began to ring out horribly through air around her; the sky above grew dark. Yanking backwards she stared into his face and the blood dribbling in a current down his cheek, over his doll's eyes stare and over the slack corpse's mouth that moments ago and been pressed against her own. His smile gone and only now she remembered why, as the heart broken scream ripped up and out of her throat.
Eyes snapped open as she sat up, gasping desperately for air. With a sharp crack, she rammed the top of her skull into the shelf she had been dozing under. Blunt and vicious pain shot through her nerves like liquid fire as hands flung up to grasp at the offended and bruising scalp. Snarling out, "Sonuva…" to no one in particular Ryce fell back flat before lifting a bare foot and kicking out at the offending wood above her, in place of the snarled curse that had been halfway formed. The time rotted shelving gave a dry, snapping sound as it splintered under the force, sending puffs of dust into the air and raining grime down on her. The dull swirling orb, now basketball sized and its rings still and shrunk against its circumference, gave a loud thud as it fell to the floor, rolling away from the ruined shelf that once held it. A single bloodshot and purple-bagged eye opened to watch its progress while she curled into a fetal position. Without her glasses even her good eye afforded her only a blurry haze of image, but even that was enough to see the red, pulse the orb gave as if affronted by its treatment. Rubbing the already swelling knot of flesh furiously, like that would somehow ease the pain, she simply glared and raised her other hand to extend her middle finger.
"Yea? Well…fuck you too…"
The Orb responded by glowing its typical smoky grey. Clawing blindly for her glasses, she continued to glare at it. She hadn't really been expecting an answer, the single flash of red being nothing more than the artifact's reaction to mishandling as opposed to some form of communication from the outside. Still…yelling at it made her feel better. A weary glance at her wrist to a worn and battered watch did nothing to improve the ache forming in her abused skull.
"27 minutes…2 days and all I get is 27 minutes…well that's just super."
Suddenly, she felt in the mood to yell at the inanimate glowing bauble some more. Yell? Who was she kidding? She wanted to scream. Hell, maybe she'd even fling the stupid thing right into the rotting boathouse wall, followed by a swift drop kick into the chilling waters under this ramshackle pit. Bye bye, so long, do not pass go, do not collect $200, in fact go straight to hell thank you very much. With her hands perching the frames of her glasses on her nose she planned to do just that. That is until a low, grating growl rattled up from her stomach, followed closely by a cramping emptiness that seemed determined to all but fold her whole body in on itself. The violent will she felt towards the artifact bled out of her as the crippling hunger bled in.
With a despondent gaze, she shifted along on the dirty floor to an even dirtier crate lying some feet away. Shifting the cracked top off, she looked down into its rather unsatisfying contents. A shipping crate filled with tiny plastic containers, all containing the same orange, oblong pills, all with the same fat lettered white logo that was fading on the crate's sides. It had fallen off a truck a few days before she'd led them to the Stathis girl. Another cramping groan rattled from her innards did nothing to quell the repulsion she felt looking at them. Despite the hunger, her stomach rolled queasily at the thought of popping some of those sickly sweet pills with their artificially plastic faux-orange flavor into her mouth.
Dipping her hand in she shifted the containers until her fingers found the round smooth surface of something different, soft and natural unlike the strange synthetics of the orange mints and their containers. Fingers clutching the baseball sized object she realized even before she lifted it into sight that it was too soft. It came as no surprise that the apple hidden away had gone to rot, and without so much as a second glance she tossed it backwards, hearing the plunk as it broke the water's surface before slipping into the black. No matter, there should be another in there somewhere, she thought shifting back into the crate, searching blindly for purchase. A small smile played on her lips when she found it, the flesh much firmer on this fruit and promising tart sweetness.
All at once a set of needles ripped into her flesh just above the knuckle, and fire raced up her arm. The firm flesh of the apple was gone, and in its place her fingers sunk into warmth. Her mind fuzzy from exhaustion recalled her dream and the feeling of warmth and wet coating her trembling hands. Horror…crippling grief layered with the pain for only a second before something leathery and bald whipped sharply across her wrist. Ripping her hand up and out of the crate, she kicked at it out of repulsed and pained reflex. The box split and spilled its contents unto the floor, a shower of rattling tic-tac boxes and a single green apple. It rolled across the grime-coated planks, revealing the small chunks of green gnawed from its surface by small bucked teeth. Before she could so much as blink, it too rolled off the floor and into the water, that soft plunking sound filling her head again.
Tears of shocked pain glittered briefly in her eyes as she stared at the ribbon of blood making its way from one torn knuckle down her wrist. Eyes turned away from the oozy bite just in time to see the worm pink tail disappearing over the rim of the crate, before a fat grey body scuttled swiftly away towards the wall, dragging that loathsome tail behind it. She could hear it's nails-tiny as they were-scratching against the wood as it fled. The sound returned to her all the rage the hunger had robbed her of, washing over her in a wave of fire. With a glow of her left eye-much brighter than usual-that rat came to a sudden halt, squeaking in a split second of surprise before it's head dropped to the ground away from its twitching and then still body. The floor beneath the tiny puddle of blood split open in an 8-inch slash.
Her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps as she glared at the decapitated rodent, wrapping the torn flesh of her hand absently in the tail of her shirt. Forcing the skin on her knuckles to knit back together would be a mistake right now, tired and hungry as she was. Already the headache from earlier was morphing into tiny pop-flashes of light and pain behind her eyes, a migraine from the simple exertion of killing the rat. It was an effort but she attempted to compel her quick, gaspy respiration to slow and deepen, an attack right now would have been a bit of a fatal set back.
Lungs finally under her control, her eyes traveled briefly to the walls of the boathouse, staring at the rusted and ancient lobster and fishing traps that lined it. She could have thrown one into the inky black of the abandoned boat port, tossed it and cringed away from the splash. Surely something of substance would unwittingly crawl or swim into its confines and she had no qualms with a raw meal. But then what? What happened when she had to haul it back up? She would have to get too close, would have to look down into the dark as she towed the rotting and wet rope up. So many possibilities. It could snag…she could slip…ancient floor boards warped with salt and time could crack like brittle beneath her…her skin tightened in gooseflesh at the thought of her body breaking the surface and slipping into the black with those apples.
Weakly, she gathered herself up unto her feet, glancing out into the setting sunlight, already feeling the terror winning out over the hunger. Shuffling even further away from the water, she set her eyes blankly on her boots, ignoring the dark purple stains long dried on their toes. It was with that same slack gaze that she snapped them unto her feet, that her hand reached out and flicked the glowing orb up into the air where it shrunk to its far more mobile marble size. The look of nothingness remained even as she stepped out into the cooling air, eyes unseeing and yet set on the city before her.
Things that gave the various Titans a headache were uncountable in number really. Most of them had Starfire's cooking and/or Gauntlet on their respective lists somewhere. Really stupidly themed villains were another one shared by all. Right now Savior was glaring at a picture cut with meticulous neatness from a newspaper, which was indeed giving him a very big headache. Colossal even. The headline it had been under had been of a ridiculous font size, declaring Nearson's horrid death and even more horrid crimes. The picture was taken mere hours before the man had unwittingly decided to use his buzz saw as the world's most intense back scratcher. It showed the pale- too pale Noel saw in hindsight- man entering the police station where he would soon be promised by the city's young protectors that they would stop at nothing to bring him to justice. The meta had to wonder what exactly had been going through the man's head as he stood before Tim nodding with such genuine sympathy. Was he even aware of what he was agreeing with at the time? In the photo, hordes of cameras, booms, and media hounds were scrounging around him in the background, none realizing what that ill, solemn look on his handsome face actually meant.
Yet all of this wasn't what was causing his head to pulse angrily. This case, as messy as it had been, was closed. There were a few - very few - loose ends to be tied off, a few questions still to be answered. But as unpleasant and violent as it seemed, all those fraying and difficult threads that should have remained had been sliced clean in one fell swoop. No…Nearson was no headache. The headache stemmed from the face peering up at Nearson from just above his elbow, smiling blackly at him. Face blurred and unfocused, she was something most would have simply not even noticed, had they not known what came after. The headache he was suffering had sprung up from a small seed of thought that perhaps he should be grateful…whatever Ryce had done had certainly saved the city a great deal of funds and paperwork. A twisted and dark way to look at this indeed.
"Right there…Christ we each had to walk past her. How did no one notice?"
"She's very good at staying out of the way. Besides…we had our minds on slightly more important matters."
"Still think she's "just a nice kid" or did helping the coroner pull what was left of Nearson off of that buzz saw change your mind?"
From the doorway the blacktrinian frowned deeply at him. It had been an unnecessary swipe Noel supposed. The fact that Ryce had anything at all to do with Nearson had been an unknown to them until nearly a quarter of a day later. And even if they had known…then what? None of this was Nigel's fault, and there was no sense or justice in acting like it was.
"Sorry. Uncalled for."
"Indeed. And no…I do not. But nor do I think that she is out to get us…"
"Of course not."
"…Raven agrees with me."
It was now Savior's turn to cast the other man with a dark look. Raven's little, secret excursion had not stayed secret long after. Part of him knew, of course, that she could handle herself; something about being a half demon made you far from a push over. Another less reasonable part of him had been utterly furious that she had gone to meet a strange, potentially dangerous being with no back up and without any of their knowledge. Her dead panned expression and stoic response of "She would not have revealed herself if anyone else had come…it's like dealing with an exceptionally skittish, bi-polar rabbit," had done nothing to ease that anxiety either. An anxiety he knew to be rather selfish and self-serving in its origin. Of course he was worried about whatever warnings this girl was herald to, that was something that went without saying. But lurking underneath that worry was the ever-present idea that this girl could turn around and any moment and blurt out his name, this time to a ravenous and gluttonous monster known as the mass media. His name was a battle he was in no way, shape, or form ready to wage, not yet.
"It's been quiet today…we've split the city into quadrants. Garfield and I are going downtown to see if anyone has seen her…care to come along?"
Noel gave a noncommittal grunt, still sitting and glaring at that unfocused face leering up at the cannibalistic politician. With a rather cross look of annoyance Nigel walked over to the chair, feet clacking noisily on the uncarpeted floor. Without so much as creasing the clipping he plucked it from the other's grasp and placed it on the desk beside him, ignoring the blank look he received in doing so.
"She was at the police station…we didn't see her…she left the police station. That is all that little piece if paper is going to tell …you are just going to strain your eyes and make that head ache of yours worse and than I have to deal with you…find shoes and meet us at the elevator."
"Why did we ask him to come again?"
Glancing at the green youth behind him Nigel simply shook his head in resignation as a black and red-garbed Savior swung out of sight somewhere above his head. It had started out well enough; the team had split into 3 groups each taking a segment of the city to search. They had been less than a half hour into the search and Scalpel had started to notice the annoyed glances Savior was granting them both every so often. Soon enough those annoyed glances had progressed into first terse and than outright barked commentary about the efficiency presented in this manner of search. Beast Boy's jovial attempts to add levity made the stormy look across the white haired meta's face increase exponentially. Soon enough it was clear to Noel at least that searching with them was a waste of time. So when Noel had taken it upon himself to split their group even further and search from the skies on his own, Nigel could not exactly say he minded.
Judging from the look on Beast Boy's face, the doctor couldn't assume he minded much either.
"By a show of hands who thinks Savior's being an ass…again that is."
Without skipping a beat the red-garbed doctor raised both claws up into the air with a sigh. Secretly, Nigel was almost wishing that the girl they were scouring the city for managed to avoid his cantankerous teammate. The powers that be only knew how well that little meeting would go.
Raven had debriefed them on what little she knew before they had begun their search, though it was easy to see Noel had only been half listening caught up in his own worries and thoughts. Their target had powers unknown and seemed to be the daughter of some otherworldly creature named Azrael. The name had brought looks of questioning and familiarity upon some faces, but none had seemed able to place it. She was half human. She was here to warn them. All in all, it was rather useless information Nigel had thought. The only thing of importance was something they had all already known. Ryce was timid, easy to startle, prone to fleeing. All traits that would make her rather difficult to find and more difficult to corner if they even did.
"I'm gonna run in here and get a soda before we go to the next street okay?"
It was with Garfield's words that the blacktrinian snapped from his thoughts. Nodding, he watched the green young man step into the small delicatessen, the bell above the door clanging noisily on its perch. Granting himself one final glance over his shoulder to the Noel-less sky, he followed him inside. With any luck the proprietor would recognize the blond teenager depicted in the picture residing in his pocket. He headed for the counter, passing a perusing Beast Boy to find the register unmanned. A quick survey of the small store found the older gentleman, who Nigel could see pictured in an article tapped to the wall behind the counter, standing in one of the few aisles. Large arms crossed over his rather ample stomach, he appeared to be frowning down at something the tall shelves were blocking from the alien's view. His face was conflicted, a weird hybrid of irritation and compassion balancing the other. Curiously, he made his way around the shelves to see just what was causing that the clashing expression.
Paul Scattinno was a hard-working man. He had brought the space for this delicatessen over 30 years ago and had maintained it ever since. The money that fed, clothed, and schooled three children had all come from the hard work he'd put into this place. Paul believed in that work.
Once in his life as a boy of five he had taken without working, without earning. A piece of penny candy and nothing more had been the spoils of this single lapse. His mother had found out and without hesitation sent him back to the store, sporting a red backside and a sign hanging from coat that said in bright, bold lettering, "THIEF." Paul had never taken without first earning again and had no tolerance for those who did. Countless times before he had chased kids from his shop, yelling and hollering as he held a nearly pilfered item in his other hand. No one stole from Scattinnos…not unless they had a death wish. It was always the same…a candy bar…a dirty magazine…that is before they had been pushed not only behind, but also beneath the counter by frantic worrying mothers. Not once had he tolerated it in over 30 years.
So why was his resolve crumbling now?
Perhaps it was the fact that it wasn't a candy bar…or a dirty magazine…or even the cheap makeup his daughter-in-law had badgered him into putting in the second aisle. It was a piece of fruit. No kid steals an orange for the thrill. Or perhaps it was the way the blond teen's clothes hung weirdly loose on her frame. More than that, he thought it could be the way she refused to meet his eyes, staring down at her feet in shamed silence, clenching a bloodied and torn fist around a swatch of her shirt serving as a bandage. Purple crescents marred the pale expanse of her face beneath her eyes, a large knot like bump swelled along her hairline.
"Kid…I can't have ya stealing stuff from my store."
She gave no indication she heard him, turning her eyes away from her feet to concentrate on the shelves in the aisle beside her. He wondered where the girl's parents could have been, briefly because one only had to look her over for a few moments to see that she was no doubt on her own. A heavy sigh fell from his lips, seeming to catch her attention as she looked up at him. The eyes in her face didn't match, though they both were blue. Finally, he knew above all else why he could not quite bring himself to chase her unceremoniously out the door. With a pang of pity he realized the darker of the two eyes were the same shade as his granddaughter, the pride and joy of her grandfather's life since she had taken her first breath nearly a year prior.
Without pausing to consider his actions he raised a hand, pointing in her face as he gruffly ordered her, "You move so much as an inch kid and I'll be on you before you like a junk yard dog on a pork chop. Capisce?"
Confusion lit across her face and the short young woman nodded her head, watching him with those strange eyes and he walked back behind the counter. With a careless toss the orange flew back into its crate. Only a single glance up assured him she had not moved from the aisle. Though the shelves towered over her head a good six inches the mirror hanging in the ceiling's corner showed her still waiting.
When he returned it was with a paper bag in hand. The girl was eyeing both him and the brown parcel cautiously. Dimly Paul could hear the quiet ding of the front door opening once, then twice but he did not turn to greet the customers that had wandered in. Instead he extended his arm to the girl, offering the bag, which she took it hesitatingly. Folding his arms across his chest, he arranged his face into a grumpy look, trying to squash the urge to smile as her eyes widened in surprise.
"You take that…and get your scrawny hide to that girly shelter on Grant Street. I catch you taking so much as a gum wrapper from my store again and you won't get my lunch you'll get my boot broken off in your narrow ass. Understood kid?"
A smile broke out on her face, not overwhelmingly large, but a smile that eased any doubts he had all the same. For her threadbare appearance the girl had a great smile. Contagious even. The exhaustion lined features seemed to ease with that grin and Paul imagined that given some good rest and a few good meals that face could probably even be pretty. So caught up in feeling good about what he had done, he began to give her directions to that woman's shelter some 3 blocks away. He never noticed as her eyes caught the mirror above his head and the smile melted away from her lips.
Nigel could not believe what his eyes were telling him. It was simply too much of a coincidence. Too easy to actually be occurring. Ignoring Garfield's ramblings of soda choice, he moved forward staring silently at Ryce's back. The store owner was talking to her, and though his sensitive ears could hear the words his concentrated mind did not comprehend them.
With uncanny care he shifted forward, not allowing the metal encasing his feet to clack on the linoleum floor. All at once the relaxed and slightly slouched curved of her spine began to straighten, her limbs visibly tensing. A moment of disbelief flooded him, until his eyes followed the slight curve of her neck, the tilt of her head. She had not heard him. No, worse than that, she had seen him, standing behind her reflected in the curved mirror above their heads. In the convex glass their eyes had locked, the expression on her face apprehensive. His mind tried to call up an earthen phrase concerning the lights of a car and some mammalian ungulate, but he sqaushed the thought back down. Even from far away, even with how the curved surface distorted her face, he could see the unease and urge to flee overtaking her. A single wrong move, a spoken word, if he even broke the shaky eye contact they were holding in the mirror, she would take flight. Hands raising up, palms out he stepped forward again, trying to communicate a calming message without words.
"Hey Scalpel do you want diet or reguuuu-Holy crap you found her."
Mismatched eyes snapped away from his own, the room grew icy cold, and the shelf next to him rocketed forward blocking his path and line of sight. Above the tinkering of shattering glass as objects crashed from shelf to ground, he could hear the proprietor give a caw of surprise and shock that mingled with Beast Boy's own. With a single leap the blacktrinian was up and over the fallen shelving just in time to see the deli's screen door swing shut with a jangling ding. He took off after her, slipping once on a paper bag, ignoring the rather unpleasant feeling of his clawed feet decimating the contents within it.
The noise and chaos of the city greeted him in a rush. Buses, taxis, and cars zoomed past him in a blur of traffic; faces seemed to bleed together in the crowds. Then he saw her, standing at the corner of the block, eyes wide and searching the throngs of people just as he was. A split second after her found her, she had found him and without blinking rushed into the cross walk just as the light above her flashed red. With the small lead she had, she was across the street just as he darted out after her. Jerking around suddenly, she lashed out a hand at the light hovering red above him. A sudden flash of cold ripped through the Titan and without so much as a flicker of yellow the stoplights switched from red to green and green to red. A car horn blared noisily, too loud and too close. Without a glance he leapt up and out, a claw coming down on the hood of a taxi screeching to a stop where he once stood. He slid across the shiny, yellow metal ignoring the furious cursing voice of the driver who operated it.
"Sorry!"
The suggestion of where he could shove his apology was ignored as he took off again, eyeing the narrow alley between the two buildings where he had seen the girl turn. Whipping around the corner he found her scrambling awkwardly up a tall, chain-link fence separating one side of the block from the next. He slowed his sprint rising up his hands as unthreateningly as he could manage again, as she slipped, halving her progress.
"Ryce."
The girl that dropped down from her climbing and reeled around was not the same girl he had seen that day in the grocer. Her face was drawn and eyes sunken. The good-natured cheer glittering behind her glasses replaced with an animalistic fear.
"Calm down…we just need to talk to you."
Even from several yards away he could hear what could have been an attempted growling sound, if her lungs could afford her the proper air. As it was she was gasping desperately, mouth opened wide and yet seemingly useless as air rattled sparing through it. A single clawed hand made its way into his coat as he took another step. A sharp gasp, strained and painfully forced, the growling growing stronger for a split second as his hand disappeared. He could see her eyes flash and contract as his hand reappeared.
The snarl fell from her face, and the growl was cut off, though the shallow desperate gasps remained. A small smile, unsure and he hoped friendly, appeared on his face as he extended the inhaler to her. She eyed it cautiously, no longer flinching as he stepped forward once and then twice until he was a few arm's length away. Bending without breaking eye contact he rolled the plastic inhaler the best he could towards her, pleased when it clacked noisily into her boots. She too kept his gaze was she bent to retrieve it, relief flooding her tense features as she breathed in a puff of the medicinal mist. Slowly, the heaving of her lungs lessened, as did the wild terror in her eyes. Her gasps departed leaving the alley silent. Seeing this Nigel spoke, his voice soft and calm.
"No one is going to hurt you Ryce…you need to understand that."
She gave no answer, just the unsteady quiet stare.
"Scalpel?"
She flinched back a step, shoulders colliding softly with the chain link, and setting a rattling sound up from them. Eyes narrowed and teeth slightly bared, she stared the new arrival down. Beast Boy stepped quietly beside his taller teammate, granting her a similar look of distrust. She hadn't taken off again at least, the green youth thought, thankful for small favors.
Looking her in the eye, Beast Boy could now see where Raven had been mistaken. This was no frightened rabbit. Of all the animals he'd ever seen or been, he saw nothing of a timid bunny in this chick. If anything she was a fox…the eyes staring back at them tinged with a sort of crazy intelligence…the kind that was deliberate but still random, simultaneously smart and stupid. A fox will run and flee from its pursuers, but when there was nowhere else to run? A fox will turn and show you just how sharp their teeth were with wild abandonment. The shy demure creature becoming a crazed vicious rage when backed into a corner.
…or a dark alleyway.
Suddenly, Beast Boy had to wonder if perhaps Noel was right about this girl.
"You have to come with us Ryce…you know that right?" Nigel whispered calmly, in what Gar had come to mentally call his "doctor voice." It broke her stare away from Beast Boy, and he thanked Nigel silently for that. When she finally spoke the voice was weak and cracked, dry as ancient paper.
"I…can't…"
A fit of coughs and choked gasps broke out from her. A poorly bandaged hand came up to rub uselessly at her abused and desert throat, and Gar could not help but feel a pang of pity. Sighing in defeat he extended his hand, offering the parched and hacking teen his unopened soda. Watering eyes met his once more, still reflecting that slightly crazy and clever glint, but yet not as intensely as before. Her coughing carried on for a few seconds, as she eyed him cautiously, before finally she inched forward away from the fence. She took the offered drink, flinching away as her fingers briefly touched his own. Then, swinging her head back she drank deeply, finishing half the bottle before finally coming up for breath, her face now lax with relief. Eyes locking again he spoke.
"So you're Ryce huh?"
"Yup…and you're Garfield."
He could not keep the annoyed frown from ripping across his face at the stressing of his full name, or keep the straight line of his shoulders from slumping. Her serious and stoic expression trembled oddly, lips thinning and ticking at the corners. A small broken noise grated somewhere in her throat, for a moment allowing him to think another asthmatic coughing fit was on the rise. A similar sound from behind him though canceled that thought out. Nigel's ill concealed snicker seemed to end Ryce's restraint, and a wide smile broke out over her face and she allowed herself to giggle openly. Her laughing apparently contagious as Nigel joined her, ignoring the rather irritable expression crossing the shifter's face.
"Yea, yea yuck it up…like Nigel's any better…and I'm pretty sure Ryce is a guy's name."
If anything the two began to laugh harder as this observation. Gar could only glare at them both in irritation for a few seconds longer before he felt a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. It really had nothing to do with the name, after all. The ridiculousness of the whole situation crashed down over him and soon enough he was chuckling right along with them. It was an odd relieved laughter and Gar could not exactly understand it, even if he joined it.
Soon enough it had begun to taper off, though the girl's smile had not quite fallen off her face as she quieted. It was a nice smile Beast Boy noticed…transforming her face and making him almost forget what had unnerved him about her in the first place. However, one look at Nigel's concerned expression seemed to rip it straight off her lips.
"Ryce…you have to come with us…you know that right?"
"I…I can't Ni…Scalpel..."
"You are still waiting for this "X" then?"
She said nothing, instead looking away as if the alley walls would somehow provide them with the answer that she refused to give. Already Nigel could sense how very little ground they were going to gain by questioning her. But still he supposed he had to try to get some sort of answers out of the little enigma.
"Raven told us that your father's name is Azrael…is that correct?"
No answer, but he watched her eyes carefully. They flicked back to him, darting to glance with the question as it was voiced. It was something of an answer he supposed, though he was not sure whether it was an affirmative or negative response.
"You can't answer that?"
A slow and slight shake from side to side. No. At least he was getting somewhere he supposed. Not far enough however, and the only thing Nigel was sure of was that he wanted to get SOME information before sending out a call to the others. Diplomacy and garnering trust was not a strong suit of some of his esteemed teammates, not that he would be mentioning any names. Before he could think of yet another dead end question to ask, it was Beast Boy who broke in.
"You're here to warn us right?"
For a moment she continued to look away from them, trying to avoid all eye contact. Her face twisted a bit, as if in thought before she turned back towards them. It was easy to see she was trying to find a reason that she could not answer this question, to see if there were any traps hidden in it. Casting first Gar and then Nigel with a cautious glance, she finally gave a small and slow nod of her head. A small smile of triumph was barely visible on the shorter Titan's face.
"So whatever it is…you are on our side?"
The nod was not small or slow this time, her head rapidly bobbing in confirmation. Nigel finally saw where the green shape shifter was going with this and picked up where he had left off, "Then that's all that matters for now. You don't have to talk Ryce…we can't and won't try to force you. But you have to come with us. We can't have you wandering Jump City by yourself."
Her face had fallen a little with that. A small flush had built up on her cheeks, a tell tale sign of slight embarrassment as she recalled their last meeting. When she spoke her voice was stronger than before, more sure of herself and her words, "I know…I know. The name thing was just a mistake though. It's not like I'm gonna walk up to people on the street and blurt out the numerical codes to get in the tower."
"…You know the codes for the tower?"
The indignant frown that turned down the corners of her mouth fell into a sheepish and comically surprised expression. Looking from one Titan to the next she fidgeted nervously from foot to foot. Awkward silence prevailed for only a few seconds more before she sighed.
"…Okay…I guess I'm starting to see your point…you really won't force me to talk until X gets here?"
Nigel nodded, extending a hand to her. Once more Ryce eyed it with hesitance, just as she had the paper bag…just as she had with the soda Gar had offered her minutes earlier. Already the much taller man could see the trust that was building in her eyes though. Despite all the potential set backs, it appeared this was finally going to work without so much as a single struggle. He breathed an inward sigh of relief when she straightened and began to reach out her hand in acceptance.
There was barely a moment to react to the sudden flash of white that collided into the wall besides them. He had just enough time to register Ryce's eyes widening before she flinched away abruptly, jerking her hand back and crouching defensively. To his right Beast Boy let out a cry of surprise before reeling around, ready to defend himself against their would be attacker, ignoring the familiarity in that blaze of white that had just rushed past them. The second Gar's eyes fell on the man standing at the end of the alley he felt a groan fall from his mouth. Great, just what they needed…yet another high strung person in this cramped walk way
"Could you WARN us next time, Noel!?"
"Do NOT use names in the field!"
"…I'm pretty sure Ryce knows it already…didn't she shout it a few days ago?"
"Savior…calm down…she's already agreed to come with us to the tower," Nigel said subconsciously shifting back into "doctor voice." The white haired meta gave no indication he heard the other two, his eyes locked over their shoulders in an icy, stone like stare. Behind them Ryce met his glare nervously, shifting from foot to foot once more. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Nigel saw that their efforts of calming her and earning some degree of trust were quickly depleting. The anxious, frantic glint was bleeding back into her face, her eyes narrowing on the white, gossamer strands floating and twisting out of his teammate's palms.
"Savior! Stand down! She already-"
"And you just believe her? Why would she do that now?" Noel asked finally breaking away from the nervous girl's stare. In his gut Nigel could feel a knot of tension tightening, already recognizing the argument brewing in Noel. Every single movement the other man made was screaming confrontational, and it did not take any particular high level intelligence to know that any head way gained in the past few minutes was about to go right out the window.
"Yes. I belie-"
"C'mon Sav…Scalpel and I handled it! We told her so long as she comes along we won't make her talk and she-"
"You told her what?"
Black and blue eyes narrowing angrily, the blacktrinian shot his younger teammate a look of poor venom. Realizing his mistake Beast Boy quickly snapped his jaw shut and placed a hand over his mouth as if that would somehow take back what he'd just said. All but physically shrinking under the two furious gazes he shifted away mumbling, "I'll just…go stand over here…"
Instantly Noel's focus switched back to the doctor, "Who told you to make a deal with her Scalpel?"
"Deal!? Savior she hasn't DONE anything. You need to get it through your head that she is not some criminal!"
"After what she did to Nearson-"
"Of for the love of…did you hear Raven this afternoon or do you just hear what you want to hear, when it suits you? She did not touch Nearson, it was an accident!"
"I don't buy that Scalpel…She is coming with us and she is going to talk and that is fin-"
Before he could mutter the final two letters of that word, Noel's eyes darted to the side before his knees buckled beneath him, ducking low towards the ground. Nigel watched as a strange yellowish blur ripped through the air where his head had once been, before colliding with the side of an unawares Beast Boy's face. A pained and inarticulate howl ripped up and out of the green meta's throat as his hands flew up the right side of his head. Jutting painfully out of his cheek and jaw were a multitude of what the doctor could only describe as spines, black and yellow and thin quills buried into the flesh of his face. The doctor in him took over and he rushed to check his teammate, before he heard the jangling of feet upon the fence once more. Jerking around he watched the girl reach the top, dread filling him as he saw Noel close behind.
Run…
It was the only command her body knew. In an instant she had been transported back to that day when she first ran from the Mortimer battle. Except now she was so much weaker, now they were so much closer. She had wanted so badly to take Nigel's offered hand…her mind racing with the idea of safety, shelter, and warmth. She would have taken that clawed hand, until Noel's words had rang clearly through her head. It was only then she realized the dangers lurking in Nigel's promise…only then she realized how childish her budding trust was…only then she let the fear completely consume her.
A pang of vicious guilt tried to rip into her as she heard Beast Boy's cry of pain, swiftly drowned in a sea of black panic. She didn't pause to think, throwing herself into the fence and pushing upwards. This time there was no slipping back down in strangling exhaustion, gasping for air that would not come. A second or two was all she needed before she was leaping over the top. Her eyes were set on the large metal dumpster only a few feet from the fence, a quick roll over which and she'd be free.
Pain…unbalanced…falling…trapped…
Hands hooked into claws to balance herself before she toppled over the fence and unto the ground below her. A glance back…blood and shredded denim hooked into the bladed, barbed wire at the fence's top. She was tangled…she was stuck. There was no thought or conscious reasoning, she simply plunged her hands into the rust caked metal spiraling around her leg and began to tug. More pain trickling through her nervous system, muted and quiet as if happening to someone else. All she knew is she had to free herself, had to ignoring the sting of her flesh as she tried to pull herself out of the sharp wire before…
A hand came down on her shoulder, firm and strong. Frantically she looked back into the angry face of Noel "Savior" Collins, and saw the set determination there. She saw the eyes of a hunter looking down at a full trap. Baring her teeth, letting her fangs show she pulled her one hand free of the wire and mesh. With a snarl she threw her weight forward, bloody hand shoving hard against his black clad shoulder as she pushed. Her mind raced for something…anything…to get away from his grasp. Say something her mind snapped…say something…say something…SAY SOMETHING!!!!
"Fuck off Momma's boy!"
A flicker of surprise in his face, and she ripped away from his grasp, throwing all of her weight backwards. For a moment she felt almost like smiling in panicky and cruel amusement at the words she had blurted out. Another part of her instantly hated herself for such a low and rather vicious blow. But before she could so much as bat an eye, she felt her balance shift; she heard the ripping tear of her jeans giving way from the bulk of her weight. A hand frantically grasped at the air, finding nothing. Overbalanced and legs suddenly freed, she toppled from the top of the fence backwards and twisting, bracing herself for the blow of concrete against her body. Before the ground could rush up to greet her though she felt her head collide with something only a few feet distance from the start of her descent. A sharp pain and pressure just above her temple, the sharp crack of bone and against metal…
And then sweet, sweet darkness.
"God damn it Savior!"
That…had not been what Noel was expecting.
For a moment the black and red clad young man did not know what to do and so he simply stared at the crumpled form lying on the ground at the foot of the fence. Beneath him the fence shifted as Nigel pushed himself up and over, metal encased hands completely unaffected by the sharp barbed wire at its summit. Noel could only watch silently as the doctor settled to the ground beside her and gently turned her over.
The entire left side of her head was doused in red, a small puddle of it remaining on the ground as the doctor cradling her face hissed something in his native tongue. Flexing a metal claw, Nigel ripped a large and long strip from his brightly colored coat, before wrapping it firmly around the gaping gauge in her skull. A drip of red splattered across the grey expanse of one of his hands from above. Noel's stomach clenched slightly when he followed the drops path to the red splattered corner of the dumpster her head had clipped when she had gone toppling over. From behind Beast Boy's voice rang out, shocked and seemingly oblivious to the spines still jutting from the side of his face.
"Dude! Noel you killed her!"
"Don't be ridiculous! She's unconscious. We have to get her to the tower, I don't have the right tools with me and her brain could swell if we don't treat this," Nigel snapped irritably as he set to work bandaging her head as best he could. A swift and toxic glare shot upwards was not missed by his white haired teammate still hovering at the top of the fence. Shaking himself free of the surprise that had overtaken him since she'd toppled away from his grasp Noel said, "Scalpel what do you need me to d-"
"I think you've done enough, Savior. Beast Boy! Call Cyborg. Get him down here with transport immediately," the icy, clipped tone seemed strange coming from the normally pleasant doctor. Places now reversed, Noel foresaw the altercation that would arise from further badgering the blacktrinian and slid quietly back down to ground beside Garfield. Glancing at the young man, he could more clearly study the strange quills embedded in his face. There were at least a dozen of the thin, stiff needles, varying in length and all the same muted yellow, with black stripes. Apparently the shock of seeing the girl's head bounce off the receptacle was swiftly departing as the smaller male's alarmed face began to wince and cringe with obvious pain. Raising a hand to gingerly attempt to pull one of them free he let out a low hiss of pain before glancing up at Noel.
"Ya mind calling Cyborg while I try to lessen my resemblance to a porcupine?"
Noel nodded and turned towards the mouth of the alleyway. The orangey red light that had cast the sidewalk beyond the shadows into fire earlier had fading into tones of purple and peach as night approached. When he emerged from the dark a brisk and bitter breeze bit into him, carrying the sigh he exhaled with it. Lifting the bright yellow COM from the black and red jacket he called out over their frequency, "Cyborg respond to Grant and Monroe ASAP. We found her."
450 miles away, in a small suburb of Alabama a young mother was chatting with her friend on her cellular phone. The mother's name was Coutney Vendee…she was 19 years old. Sitting outside her parents' home on a lounge chair she was scowling out into the air at nothing in particular, as she snapped and harped to the other young woman at the other end of the line. Beside the chair sat Jeremy, age 2. Hair greasy and face smudged with the remains of a dirt clod he had just shoved into his mouth, he fixed his watery stare on his mother.
"Yea yea…tell me about it…well I wanna…I can't! The gross lil fucker has a cold…"
Unsteady legs pushed his pudgy filth stained body upward, diaper sagging neglectfully off his hips. A grimy hand reached out to grapple at his mother's thin wrist.
"Omigawd! Ew god damn it! Ugh…nothing…he just got dirt all over my arm. Hold on one minute."
Without skipping a beat, she dropped the phone unto her chair and roughly picked the boy up,holding him arm's length away from her body as if he were an overflowing bag of trash. Stomping a few yards away, she plopped him down on the dirt, "Stop being a fucking pest Jeremy," she snapped before delivering a quick and hard swat to his backside. The child whined pitifully, before watching her storm back over to her phone and settle herself back into her chair, her back to him.
Knowing better than to cry he sat quietly on the ground. Before long the sun glinted into his eyes. That watery, unhappy gaze fell upon a space several yards away from where he sat and saw the glint again. Once again he pushed himself up and toddled towards it, his mother's disgusted and bitter prattling growing softer behind him. It was a coin…a large golden colored token from the pizza parlor arcade three blocks away. Gurgling in curious delight he sat and grappled at the shiny metal, chubby and grubby fingers playing across it's sun warmed surface before sticking it into his mouth, delighting in the metallic taste and the feeling of warm asphalt beneath his legs
Back where she sat, the shriek of tires and a heavy fleshy thud cut though her call, ending Courtney's worries of dirty grubby hands in an instant.
His name was Nikolai Balakirev. He had lived all his life in Russia, though the town in which he resided had changed from time to time. At 98 he had lived a full and eventful life, watching as his country changed its face and its name throughout his many years. He had survived the wars, had outlived all 8 of his siblings during the Famine of 1921. He and his wife had watched them send that crazy young Gagarin boy shooting into space and then again when he shot into the ground at the age of 34. God did not intend for us to touch the stars his wife had said. She died 25 years ago. He'd watched that too.
4 children..13 grandchildren…2 great grandchildren from the states that he had never met. He'd led a good and full life though part of it had died twenty five years prior. Sitting in bed staring down at the photos of that dead life and the children she had given him, he smiled. Slowly his eyes drifted shut, his chest rose slowly and fell one final time.
In Pioche, Utah, 26 year old Melody Walsh fell over in front of her kindergarten class. The pulmonary embolism killed her before she hit the floor.
Andrew Chambers…age 55…fell of a ladder and broke his neck in Auckland, New Zealand.
Rhoda Kelswald and Michael Smith overdosed in a garage in Castle Rock, Maine. Ages 17 and 29.
"Soooo…let me get this straight. You found her in an Italian deli down town?"
"Yes."
"Nigel and you managed to chase her down, calm her down, and convince her to come to the tower."
"Yup…"
"And then Sparky over here bashed her head off a dumpster."
"Don't be an ass, Rob. That's not how it happened."
("Close enough.")
"I'm an ass? You cracked a girl half your size's skull open and I'm an ass?"
A white-gloved hand clenched tightly into a fist under the table at which Noel was sitting. It was difficult but he quelled the overwhelming urge to plant that fist into the goofy grin aimed at him from across the table. Robert, playing his usual role, seemed to be oblivious to the fury that he was slowly fanning the flames of. Before he could bring up any sort of retort to counter the blonde's obnoxiousness, a shrill yelp rang out through the kitchen area the team had gathered in. From the seat next to Noel, Gar glared, pouting at his tweezers-wielding girlfriend.
"That hurt!"
"Did you think pulling quills out of your eyelid was gonna feel good?" the skinny blond muttered as she dropped the last spine onto a napkin. Choosing to ignore her Beast Boy simply rubbed furiously at the red and needle marked side of his face with one hand while the other held up a compact mirror. The spines had not really sunk all that deep into his skin; already most of the tiny pinholes were clotted with minuscule marks of red. Clapping the mirror shut, he frowned at the oversized yellow and black thorns resting on the table. Tentatively, he plucked one up and lifted it to the light, wondering out loud, "What are these things anyway?"
"They're quills…similar to Erethizon dorsatum in structure."
Green eyes darted away from the quill and fell upon the figure entering the room. Signature red coat discarded, Nigel crossed the floor, feet tapping and scrapping along the way. Freshly washed claws were being dried on a rag, though nothing could be done for the red stain that had spread grotesquely across his white shirt. Before anyone could question the source of those stains, Tara, brow knitted in confusion asked, "Erethi-what now? Is that some kind of…creepy…Blacktrinian thing?"
"No it's the American Porcupine," Beast Boy said sporting a confused look of his own, "So you're saying she shoots porcupine quills? Where the hell does she keep them?"
"I said similar…not the same. They keratin based like a porcupine's quills and they possess microscopic backwards facing barbs that make them difficult to extract like porcupine quills. But they're not only hollow but appear to have an opening in the very tip, like the venom delivery system of a viper."
"Venom!?"
"Don't interrupt Gar. There was not so much as a drop of venom in the quill, you are fine. Sophie also found traces of Hydroxyapatite, which along with everything else is NOT found in porcupine quills," Nigel said, and was greeted by a room full of confused faces. Gar voiced what everyone thought,
"….Hyrdo what?"
"Hydroxyapatite…it's a mineral found in tooth enamel."
"So, these are her teeth?"
"No…they're not teeth…they're not quills…I don't know what they are. They're not part of the anatomy of any animal or creature I've encountered in this world or any other."
"That would be because she is not of this world."
Silent up until this point, Raven gazed neutrally at the larger alien waiting her explanation. A little over an hour prior she had received the call that they had found Ryce. The pleasant surprise she felt quickly sunk when upon meeting the group back at the tower, she watched their resident doctor climb out of the car carrying the young woman, using parts of his jacket to stem the blood flowing out of the side of her head. Jason Blood's advice to "treat her gently" was shot to hell it seemed. Before she could so much as blink the Blacktrinian had rushed past her into the tower and towards his medical bay, Sophie in tow. She didn't have to voice the question of what had happened, as Gar climbed out behind him. Face like a pin cushion, he jerk his thumb backwards at the vehicle where Noel still sat, ordering her to, "Ask Captain Belligerent." Needless to say the story was not exactly what she'd been hoping for. She'd made a point to avoid anymore conversation with Noel, instead allowing him to continue in his own version of sulking over the incident.
"How is she Nigel?" Raven asked.
"She hasn't woken up yet, but that seems more due to her exhaustion than the head trauma. I was going to stitch it but it seems to be closing on its own. The lacerations on her hands have already scabbed over. Those regenerative abilities you were telling us about seem to be involuntary when she's unconscious but light her pain receptors up like a Christmas tree, so I gave her a small dosage of analgesic along with a tetanus booster."
"Regenerative abilities? So…she's Wolverine?"
"…what do large weasels have to do with regenerative abilities, Robert?"
The alien simply stared in innocent confusion when the blond sighed and shook his head slowly. With a roll of her eyes Raven stepped in, "No she is not "Wolverine." Her abilities from what I've seen are not instantaneous while she's awake; she has to actively focus to heal." Having got the conversation back on track she glanced back to Nigel, who was still trying to understand the connection between large bear like weasels and healing. Deciding to let this go he took her prompting and continued.
"While she's unconscious her healing slows down from what you described Raven but it's still exponentially faster than a human being's. If she keeps this up, the wound on her head will be nothing more than a faint mark in 3 days time. It's draining her though, another reason I think she's yet to waken."
Tim nodded silently, taking in what the doctor was telling them. For all the confusion and chaos it seems that things were working themselves out. Noel's over reaction aside, they did have the girl in custody at least, and while injured it was nothing life altering. The masked youth could only hope she was as willing to aid them now that she'd been hurt. Regardless though, it was time to understand a few more things about their strange little guest. While it had already become common knowledge amongst his team that this girl was half human, he could no longer forgo asking what exactly her other half was composed of.
"Well Raven, you've told us that she's part human…I think we can all see that. What else are we talking about here? Animal, vegetable, mineral, alien, or demon?"
"None of the above actually. Angel."
In the silence that swallowed the room, the sound of a hand thudding limply against the tabletop, nearly echoed. A glance towards the Savior revealed him to be staring at his significant other in quiet shock. All at once the color seemed to bleed out of his face, at first matching his hair and then growing slightly paler as Raven's words finally slipping something into place for him. He had been struggling with the girl's father's name for hours. It was foreign and yet somehow familiar to him. Somewhere in the back of his head it had continued to buzz, continue to gnaw at him with this feeling of having encountered it somewhere before. Now, it had clicked. Angels…the name Azrael…
"Hold on a minute. Are you saying…that we've got daughter of the Angel of Death in our medical bay?"
"Archangel of Death actually and yes…that's exactly what I'm saying."
"So I…"
"Broke open the skull of the youngest child of one of the gods of Death? Yes, Noel."
Ignoring the white hair and dark garbed man pinching the bridge of his nose in front of him Vic frowned at Raven. Already he was questioning why the gothic woman would joke at a time like this. Her assertion at the girl's heritage could not be serious after all. Shaking his head in refusal he said, "Angel? Really? C'mon Rave you don't really believe that right?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"'Cause there's no such thing…they're just a story like unicorns, and leprechauns, and-"
"Demons? Ghosts? Aliens?"
"Yea exac-," he started out, a small triumphant smile on his face, before exactly what she was saying sunk in turning the growing grin into a look of sheepish realization, "Oh…yea." Seeing her teammate sinking back into silence Raven turned her gaze back to Robin, face set into a cautious neutrality.
"From what Blood told me…Ryce is the only one out of all of Azrael's children that carries any human blood in her veins, which could explain why she has any inclination to help us. It also explains why I cannot sense her, she can block me out. Being that she is half angel however there are certain laws by which she is supposed to live and that greatly restricts what she can and cannot do while she is here. Even when she wakes up I doubt she is going to talk to any of us until the arrival of whatever and whoever this "X" person is. If we try to force her…well…we've already seen what happens," she intoned refraining from granting Savior the withering glance that her speech had been building to. Judging by the strained look on his face it would be the last thing the man needed. Raven could only hope that Blood's description of Ryce's favor with her father had been exaggerated. She could not be sure how the relatively unknown death god would react to one of his favored offspring getting her head abruptly bashed in.
Tim didn't give her long to ponder though. Standing up from where he'd been seated at the table he looked around at his assembled teammates and said, "Well if she isn't going to talk we're going to have to find out what we can on our own. No sense invoking the wrath of death by harassing it's kid. Do we have any idea of where she's been hiding out all this time?"
"Gar might be able to figure it out," Sophie said from the doorway from which her boyfriend had emerged several minutes prior. In her one hand she held a small rather worn black vest while the other seemed to be preoccupied in grasping the rest of the unconscious girl's clothing, including Tim could see a white collared shirt on which blossoms of red were already darkening into purple. Crossing over to the green meta, the heavy set women held out the unbloodied dark garment, "Her clothes are filthy…and the shirt's ruined. I stuck her in a set of scrubs for now but I'm sure wherever she's been staying has left a scent on what she was wearing day in and day out."
Cringing ever so slightly Gar nodded his head before his features abruptly began to shift. A split second later a green bloodhound was peering up at the mortician with its droopy and perpetually sad eyes. Without skipping a beat the large canine padded over and began to carefully sniff the black material. Snout wrinkling slightly he cast a rather annoyed look up at his teammates before all but burying his nose into it. Seconds late he pulled back rearing onto his hind legs before morphing back. His face was one of disgust.
"Seriously? 1) It still reeks of blood and 2) she's definitely been wearing the same clothes since she got here and its funktastic."
"When you're done whining if you have anything useful to say we'd love to hear it."
"Okay okay! Don't get you leotard in a twist, geez. There're all sorts of scents settled into the fabric. It's hard to distinguish them all but the strongest were dust, some artificial orangeyness, salt, and low tide."
"So she's been lurking around the beaches?" Tara thought out loud as Cyborg shook his head in thought coming up beside her.
"Can't be…beaches are closed for the season. She'd have no cover…the cops would have kicked her off."
"The Marina."
The group turned to the unusually quiet Noel. Not even glancing at them he stood and walked over to the window overseeing the bay. Following his gaze Tim saw the large marina and boat port, its lights glittering in the recently fallen dark of night. Picking up where he left off Noel glanced over at the team leader.
"There are all kinds of abandoned buildings down there…plenty of places for her to hide out without being seen or bothered. Explains everything besides the orange scent. "
Nodding his head in agreement the former boy wonder cast a quick glance over at the clock embedded into the kitchen stove. While it was already dark, the hour had not grown too late just yet. Just enough time for a quick look around he decided, see if there were any clues left behind by their current "guest," that could shed some light on what she was doing here. Robin simply ignored Gauntlet's groan of protest when he spoke,
"We'll head down to the Marina and check it out before it gets too late. Vic you stay behind and man the COM."
"No prob. fearless."
"Nigel I want you and Sophie and Raven to stay back and watch over Ryce…You and Raven seem to be the ones she's interacted with the most and know the most about her. Don't want her going into a panic and destroying half the tower if she wakes up."
"Why don't we leave Sir Happypants behind too? That way if she blinks he can break her arm or something."
"Candide, I swear to-"
"Both of you knock it off! The rest of us will search the boat ports and see if there is anything to find."
The three placed on a sort of guard duty nodded their heads before making their way back to the medical bay. Cyborg was already making himself comfortable in front of the large screen, typing on the keyboard nonchalantly. Tim watched as he synced up the computer terminal to their COM frequency, though his eyes were not really focusing on what his teammate was doing. Already the young man could feel his stomach flipping haphazardly about. If what Raven was saying was true…if this girl was really some sort of bizarre otherworldly angel spawn…what did that exactly mean? What warning did she have and how bad was…Vic's voice called up from his belt ripping him from his thoughts.
"Test 1,2. You guys are set. Hail me when you get there. Don't worry about the creepy lil cherub chick…we'll keep on eye on her."
Tom cringed as Robert walked past grinning, "Let's roll then…sooner we get their sooner we come home and sleep. Hey Noel! Maybe we can find you a sad puppy to kick or a little kid to make cry while we're down there!"
In Kabul, Afghanistan 6 students, and 2 professors were killed by a suicide bomber in a school.
Adam Giruad in Conway, Arkansas ..16… was just shot in the head in a hunting accident.
Finally succumbing to lung cancer in Forks, Washington Allison Resby's passed away listening to her son read to her…age 77.
In London a man fell on the tracks in the Tube…even he no longer knew his own name and age.
In New York City James McCathy had just been fired from CollinsCorp…leaving behind 3 children and a wife he hung himself in a hotel closet.
The time was 8:37 PM…
In the past hour 6,732 people had died…in the day 131,364 and counting
In Jump City, Florida the youngest child of Azrael laid still in sleep as the blacktrinian and mortician studied her chart…as the child of Trigon studied her. She was lying still, as her eyes moved frantically behind their lids, as her teeth ground together painfully behind her lips.
131,370
131,371
131,373
131,379
Author Note:…again it turned out longer than intended, which I suppose is better than shorter. It never seems this long when I think it out though.