Hey guys! I know I've been updating a lot, but that's because I've been getting a lot of assingments, tests, etc. and I won't be able to update for a while, so I'm getting my writing fix now.
Once again, thanks for all the reviews! They are greatly appreciated!
Disclaimer: You know the drill: I don't own Young Justice, just my OC, etc., etc.
You know how, on TV when criminals get caught red-handed, they immediately try to deny their guilt? Sometimes their arguments are insanely stupid ("I only robbed four banks, not five,") but they try anyway.
Yeah, this girl was nothing like that.
Her eyes went wide for a second, then she immediately began telling me how guilty she was.
"I'm sooo sorry, I shouldn't be stealing, it's just that I can't help it, I need the money! I swear I'll never do it again, just please don't call the cops!"
'Never do it again?' Yeah, right! So far I trusted this girl about as far as could throw her. So what I said next really surprised me.
"I promise, I'll do community service, I'll…" the girl was still carrying on.
"I'm not going to turn you in," I said calmly.
"I'll change my ways…wait, what did you say?"
I shrugged. "I'm not turning you in." I don't know why I said it. I guess, maybe because in some ways, I was basically in her situation. If someone was threatening to turn me into the Justice League, I would definitely want them to start acting the way I was acting now.
"But…why?" She seemed genuinely surprised.
"Well, the way I see it, you hadn't actually taken anything. For all I know, I could have dropped something and you were just putting it back for me. Innocent until proven guilty and all that, right?"
She smiled widely and her pale eyes lit up. "Yeah." Suddenly, she plopped down beside me and stuck her hand out for me to shake. "I'm Blanca, by the way."
Blanca. Meaning "white". It fit her. Everything about her (even her clothes—a white tank top and pale pink sweats) was either white or very close to it.
I took her hand and she shook mine vigorously, grinning. "Thanks for that, although I really was stealing. Normally, I'm a lot better at it, but I wasn't myself today. Don't know why."
I took one glance at myself, confused. I didn't look like a hobo, I wasn't dirty or anything, but I definitely did not look like the type of person who'd get their pocket picked. "Why steal from me?"
She shrugged. "I saw the money you used to buy that sandwich. Bad choice, by the way, those things are super fattening. Anyway, I don't know where you're from, but this is the big city. Don't go whipping your cash around like that or you won't be able to hire a doctor after you get mugged."
"Um…okay," I said, not sure exactly how to respond.
"Hey, you look kinda familiar. What was your name again?"
"Um…Elizabeth Reynolds. But you can call me Lissie." I saw no need to hide my real name from her. Then again, If I'd known what was coming next, maybe I would've.
Her eyes widened. "No way," she breathed. "You're that fire-starter the Justice League's looking for. Dude, you're all over the news! You've even got a bounty on your head!"
Crap. I didn't think the Justice League would work that fast. I slapped a hand over her mouth to shut her up—I didn't want everyone in Central after me. "Please don't turn me in to them. I know there's a reward, but maybe…"
She laughed as though I'd just told a hilarious joke. "Of course I'm not turning you in! Anyone who can cause that much hilarious chaos in the Justice League is a friend of mine! Besides, I owe you one for not calling the cops."
Relief coursed through me, and I smiled gratefully. "Thank you so much. You've got no idea how much…"
"Don't mention it! Hey, you're from out-of-town, right? 'Cause I know practically everyone in Central, and you definitely don't live here."
"Yeah," I admitted. "I just came from Greenwood, South Dakota."
"Cool. Big town?"
I laughed. "Not at all. It's the middle of nowhere."
She smiled—a pretty smile that gave her cheeks dimples. "That's cool, too. Hey, you got somewhere to stay?"
I sighed. "Not right now, no," I admitted. "I was hoping there might be some homeless shelters that won't ask too many questions, and—"
She opened her mouth into a little "O", feigning shock. "You do not want to stay in a homeless shelter, trust me. Hey, I'm staying with some friends in an old warehouse by the East end. It's a bit of a walk, but I bet we can make it before dark. What do you think—you wanna stay with us?"
"I don't know," I said, unsure. I'd never been good with new people. "Do I have to—"
She smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, they trust me. Any friend of mine is a friend of theirs."
Well—I did need a place to stay. "It sounds great."
"Awesome!" She grabbed my wrist and began pulling me down one of the gravel paths leading out of the park. She had a long stride, and I had to practically run just to keep up. "Go faster," she called over her shoulder. "We don't wanna be caught on the streets after dark."
I spent the next hour-and-a-half being dragged through the streets of Central, sprinting to keep up with Blanca. We made our way through crowds and markets, past high-class stores and offices, even through the subway for a while. We left a wake of disgruntled citizens that Blanca had pushed aside in order to make room for us. I tried to shout apologies over my shoulder, but Blanca just laughed maniacally.
Finally, we made it to the East end and stopped in front of a run-down warehouse. My feet throbbed and I couldn't wait to sit down. Still, I didn't really want to go in there.
Most of the windows had been shattered and only a few had been boarded up. Jagged glass surrounded the squat building made of dull grey concrete. Graffiti in eye-blinding colors swirled across the surface, blaring to the world gang names, declarations of undying love, and more than a few cuss words. The distinct aromas of alcohol and cigarette smoke lingered around the building, and if I listened close, I could hear a series of gunshots in the far distance. Litter covered the ground, and the one street light near had burned out. Something reddish-brown was splattered on the concrete under my feet. It had dried long ago, but my stomach still turned at the sight.
Blanca spread her arms wide. "Home sweet home," she announced.
Timidly, I followed her up the steps and through the unlocked front door, into a massive warehouse.
Somehow, the electricity in here still worked, and blinding electric lights illuminated what seemed like miles of garish orange shelves, most still containing boxes that someone forgot to ship. There were squeaks and skittering noises as mice ran across the cracked concrete floor.
Blanca turned to me, grinning. "Isn't it amazing?"
Amazing was not the word I'd use to describe it, but I nodded anyway. "I'm…speechless."
"I knew you would be. C'mon, we'd better go get you checked in with Blades. He's probably over in Sports Equipment."
I didn't bother to point out that a guy named "Blades" didn't seem like the type of person I'd want to have a friendly chat with. Instead, I obediently followed Blanca, who was already weaving through various shelves, moving deeper into the warehouse.
We ended up in one of those "demo areas" where tents and whatnot were set up for people to try. Sports equipment littered the ground, and I had to pick my way around deflated basketballs, tennis rackets, and old bikes. Racks of fishing poles stood like silent sentrys, and despite the electric glare, I couldn't help but feel a little afraid.
Blanca grabbed my wrist and I gave a little cry of shock. "Stand veeery still," she commanded. Then she called, "Hey, Blades? It's me, Blanca. Where are you?"
Suddenly, there was a whoosh as something came whistling through the air. I gave a little scream and jumped back, almost tripping over a display of basketballs. The projectile embedded itself into the floor where I'd just been standing…was that a spear?
As I tried to calm my racing heart, Blanca called out to the emptiness. "Hey, Blades!What the heck'd you do that for? Lissie is a friend, okay?"
Suddenly, a shadow detached itself from a rack of fishing poles. A boy, maybe a year or two older than me, stepped out into the light.
He was tall and slender and looked faintly Asian, with dark eyes, high cheekbones, and jet-black hair. Despite his slim build, though, his was still muscular and definitely athletic. He wore a plain grey hoodie and ripped black jeans. I could see bulges under his clothes that did not look like muscles, though, and sure enough, when he moved, I could just see the glint of concealed weapons.
"Sorry about that," he said to me, shrugging. "Blanca says you're her friend, but you never can be too sure." He gestured at the spear, which was still quivering from impact. Where the hell'd he get a spear?
"It was in the warehouse," he said as if reading my mind. He gestured at an unzipped red tent that I hadn't noticed, and when I looked through the flap, I could just see a store of weapons lining the walls. "We think there may have been an illegal cartel run out of here."
"A cartel? Like, for kids' toys and maternity clothing, right?" I asked, gesturing around. "Because really, there's not much else here." Okay, minus the tent full of weapons, but he could have gotten those somewhere else.
"For weapons," he said, and two words have never made me feel so stupid. "Nothing big, like bombs or anything, 'cause this is Central and Flash would be down on the cartel in a heartbeat. But some good stuff anyway." Casually, he took out a handgun from where it was strapped to his hip and began to twirl it around his finger. I took a step back, just in case it decided to go off.
"Blades is our weapons expert," Blanca explained. "Blades, this is Lissie. Lissie, this is Blades."
"Hmmph. Blanca, did you have to bring another girl?"
In a heartbeat, Blanca strode forward and gripped the collar of his hoodie in her fist, dragging him so he was looking directly in her eyes. "You have a problem with that?"
It was actually a pretty funny picture: a frail, white-haired girl threatening a buff weapons expert that was at least a head taller than her. In a fight, I would've bet all my money on Blades. But now, he looked absolutely terrified.
"N-no, Blanca, not at all. Girls are great. I love girls."
"I'm glad you think so." She grinned sweetly and released him. He stumbled back a few paces, rubbing his neck.
"Where's everyone else?" Blanca asked to a recovering Blades.
"Last I checked, they were starting a campfire over in the women's department."
Blanca had already turned and was dragging me back the way we'd come. "Thanks, Blades!" she called over her shoulder.
He didn't respond.
Blanca dragged me into a less well-lit area of the warehouse, where racks of revolting women's clothes lay carelessly strewn all over the floor. Most had holes chewed in them by mice, many were even threadbare. Sequins that had fallen off of the dresses covered the ground, and in one corner, a trunk filled with a fortune of sparkling costume jewelry had been overturned, sending fake pearls and broken glass "diamonds" skittering across the floor, adding to the chaos.
An orange glow cast by a flickering campfire illuminated some of the shelves, and people-shaped shadows sat around it, singing an off-key version of "Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall". Bianca dragged me closer until I could pick out the source of the flames: a particularly repulsive dress (size XXXL) was burning, its sequins turning black and melting, it's goldish-pinkish-orangish-blue fabric beginning to char. Someone had dumped a bottle of perfume over the top and it was burning like gasoline, the thick smell of chemicals hanging in the air.
"Hey, guys, it's me," Blanca called, and the song cut out.
"Blanca, you're back!" A girl stood up from the fire, her long blonde hair shining in the firelight. "Who's this?" she asked, suddenly noticing me.
"This is Lissie," she said, shoving me forward to meet the girl. "She's that fire-starter who's been pissing off the Justice League."
"Cool," the girl breathed, her green eyes shining. "I'm Sage, by the way, and that's Inky and Echo." She pointed to the two other teens huddled around the fire, a boy and a girl. They looked like they could be twins, both short but slim and good-looking, both with raven-black hair and sky-blue eyes, but the boys' eyes were clouded over.
I was about to ask what had happened to them, but he answered for me. "I'm blind," he said testily.
Sage rolled her eyes. "I don't know why Echo's so grumpy," she said. "You're like his hero. He only wishes he could cause as much chaos to the Justice League as you did."
"Hey! She's not—" Echo began to protest, but I interrupted.
"You guys don't like the Justice League?" True, I wasn't exactly a fan either, but it was pretty rare to find a civilian who was truly against them.
Echo rolled his eyes. "Most people think that the Justice League is the best thing that happened to mankind since humans learned how to breathe. But all they care about is the big stuff. Abuse, robbery, homelessness…that kind of stuff goes on every day and they do nothing to stop it. And they don't care about small-time meta-humans like us."
Blanca leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Don't be fooled by the pretty speech. Echo's pissed because he lost his sight in an attack by the Joker and the Justice League didn't get there fast enough to stop it."
"Hey! I heard that!" Echo yelled, but Blanca was too busy dragging me down by the fire to hear.
"How were the pickings, Blanca?" the raven-haired girl next to Echo asked. Her voice was soft and musical, the kind of sound you could listen to all day and not get tired of hearing.
"Great!" Blanca reached into the pocket of her sweats, bringing out three fat leather wallets that I hadn't noticed before. She tossed them to the girl, who caught them with ease.
"Lined?"
"Only the best," Blanca grinned.
"I thought you said…" I began, but Blanca gave me a look, cutting me off.
"Stealing's the only way we make any money. We could make some from Sage, because she's a healer, but she refuses to charge for her services."
"Hey! If you saw some of the people that come to me, you wouldn't be charging, either."
"Yeah, yeah," Blanca said, waving their hand. "Inky could probably make us some money too, but no one will buy from her."
"Buy? What do you—" I started, but then I took one good look at Inky and I stopped.
Almost every inch of her skin was covered in tattoos. Birds, animals, people, dragons, unicorns, you name it. They were beautiful and so lifelike that they appeared to be moving. And then, I realized that the reason they looked like they were moving is because, well, they were.
She smiled pleasantly, and three red butterflies fluttered across her cheek and over her nose. "Everyone's got a talent here," she said. "Sage heals, Blanca evaporates, Echo uses echolocation that rivals any bat's. I," she said, stretching her arms and admiring the stag that was galloping up them, "am an artist."
"That's amazing," I whispered. "You could make a fortune off that."
She frowned. "Yeah, but no one will buy from me. They don't know if it's safe, and neither do I."
"So you need a test subject," I said.
"Yeah, basically."
"Well, okay," I shrugged. "I've always wanted a tattoo."
She looked at me for a second, eyes narrowed. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened and she broke into a grin. "Oh my gosh, you're serious!" she squealed. "Come over her, I can do it right now."
Blanca touched my shoulder. "You don't have to do this, you know." She sounded worried.
"No, it's okay. I want to."
Inky grabbed my arm, holding it straight. "Is there anything you want?"
"No, you're the artist. You decide."
She smiled. "Close your eyes. I don't think this will hurt too much, but it could, and—"
"Do it now," I cut her off, "before I chicken out."
"Oh, right." She gave a nervous giggle. "Sorry."
I squeezed my eyes shut.
At first, it wasn't too bad, just a slight tingling in my arm. Then the pain really started.
It felt like someone was drawing lines in my skin with acid. I could feel lines being carved, and I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. The agony continued for what seemed like hours but was nowhere near that long.
Suddenly, I felt someone shake me, and I looked up. Inky was staring at me, her blue eyes wide with worry. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I said, breathing hard. "I'm fine."
She smiled. "Look," she said.
There, on my wrists, flames leapt and danced, a bracelet of fire. The golden, orange and red spirals wove into shapes: girls dancing, stags, birds, lions, even faces that disappeared almost as soon as they showed themselves. It was beautiful.
"You were right. You are an artist," I breathed, and she blushed.
We spent the next few hours laughing, talking and cracking bad jokes. Blades came to join us after a while, and he wasn't so bad once you got to know him.
I almost forgot about the Justice League, the Flash, my powers, everything.
Almost.
Okay, so I'm putting out a challenge: to anyone who reads this, I challenge you to review. I've been getting more, but still not a TON, and I basically live on reviews the way some people live on oxygen.
And while I'm at it, making stupid challenges and all, I also challenge you to say "pickles" somewhere in your review. It's stupid and pointless, I know, but it will be fun to see how many people actually read this little bold-print-info-box thingy.
Once again, I hoped you like it.
Until next time, adieu!
