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Fuller's Furniture Warehouse, Jump City. 0904 Hours, 14 AUGUST 2014
[Please, don'cha wanna play? Won'cha play with me?]
The children shrunk back at the childish, wheedling tone, whimpering as the younger members were ushered towards the rear by the elder captives. Their bus driver was sprawled upon the floor, unconscious and ignored by the ramshackle figure that shambled towards them. Gazes flickered about the interior of the warehouse, seeking some route of escape amongst the towering lines of crates. Several stares lingered upon the bus that had ferried them, under duress, to the empty building. Unfortunately, their captor had already demonstrated startling speed and strength when their driver had attempted to attack the creature.
Towering over them, it was held together in a vaguely humanoid shape composed of various toys and game pieces. Poking from broad shoulders was the bald, plastic head of a rosy-cheeked baby doll, blue eyes seeming to follow them without ever moving. One of its arms reached beyond its knees, long fingers formed by Lincoln logs that extended from the pedals of a tricycle that made up its limb. On its other side, Lego fingers clicked together anxiously, curling from a tattered baseball as it shuffled forward on moon shoes. Miscellaneous actions figures, dolls, and stuffed animals were molded together into a lumpy, misshapen torso as the wheel of a bicycle emerged from its wide back. When it spoke, its voice echoed through their minds, young and pleading.
Kneeling in front of the group of students as they pressed back into a wall of crates, and it seemed to fixate upon a young boy who fearfully clutched at his sister's leg, ducking behind her. Holding out its shorter arm, it presented him with a chisel-jawed action hero and tilted its head as it spoke again.
[C'mon. Come and play. We could have lotsa fun together. We can play whatever game you wanna play. First.]
"Get away from him, you creep!" snapped the boy's teenaged sister and she grunted as she swung her heavy backpack at the monstrosity's head. Its head was knocked sidewise by the blow but it gave no other reaction before it snapped back into place and it burst into a flurry of motion. Swinging its long arm forward, it wrapped one hand about her throat and the other on her arm as it lifted her easily from the ground.
[That'sa weird game. But, if that's what you wanna play . . . It's my turn, right?] it asked cheerily, cocking its head and pulling back its other fist.
The captured girl gulped and futilely out at the construct as her little brother wailed and attempted to spring forward to her rescue only to be restrained by one of the older students. Before the figure of playthings could lash out at the young woman, a cord shot through the air and wrapped about its arm, holding it in place. It looked towards its wrist in surprise before a fist slammed across its face, sending it reeling backwards and shaking its grip on the girl. She dropped roughly to the ground but looked on in awe as Starfire dealt fierce blows to the construct, shouting strange battle cries as she was joined by Robin. The youth's gaping was interrupted by a large hand settling upon her shoulder and she jerked at the touch before she looked up at the grim visage of Cyborg.
"Probably best if you leave the rest to us," he advised, nodding towards Raven who stood at a corner of the row of the crates. She ushered them towards the door as Beast Boy helped the groaning driver to his feet, looping an arm about his shoulder and dragging him after the children. Scrambling to her feet, the girl scampered towards the heroes only to hit the ground heavily as a jump rope wrapped about her ankle and pulled her back.
[NO!] screeched the construct as it began to reel the jump rope back into its body, dragging the girl across the floor. [You can't leave! You gotta stay here and play with me!]
The blade of a pocketknife unfolded from one of Cyborg's fingers and cleanly sliced through the rope as he helped the bewildered teenager to her feet. Pushing her towards Raven, he suggested, "Why don't we play a little game instead? It's called 'be nice and we won't have to hurt you too bad.'"
Starfire tackled the monstrosity, cutting off its irritated shriek and driving it into a row of crates that toppled down upon them. Robin raced forward only for the redhead to suddenly hurtle from the wreckage, crashing into the next aisle, sending the boxes toppling over as she carried through the roof. The children shrieked as the debris tumbled down upon them and Raven threw her hands out, catching most of them in her telekinetic hold. As the others continued their descent, Beast Boy dropped the bus driver and sprinted at the children, scooping them up and twisting in the air to shield them from the landing as the crates shattered against the floor they had been standing upon seconds before.
Opening his arms with a groan, he pushed them at the door in the side of the building and instructed, "Go. Go."
Somewhat star struck by the presence of the Teen Titans, they managed shaky nods before racing for the exit where a teenager barreled through the door, shoving aside several others. The girl, united with her brother, paused to pick up the driver and pulled him towards the door as Starfire crashed back into the building. Emerald energy blazed within her narrowed eyes before a look of horror crossed her face and she shook her head, closing her vision. Her gaze had returned to normal as she opened them and they fixed upon the creature that swiped wildly at Robin and Cyborg, keeping them on the defensive with its tantrum.
[No, no, no, NOOO! You-you meanies! You're taking all my friends. YOU'RE TAKING ALL MY FRIENDS!]
"Friends?" Cyborg scoffed, leveling a blast from his sonic cannon at the figure, pushing it off balance. Robin leapt into the air, bo staff extended and smashing across its face, causing it to stumble backwards as Cyborg continued, "Man, I don't know what's wrong with yah, but you just kidnapped a bus full of kids. They ain't your friends."
[Shut up!] it roared, swinging its head back towards them, revealing a gash that Robin's attack had torn in it. [You're all justa buncha big bullies! You -]
Its rant was cut short as Starfire slammed into it and back into the crates they had fought in earlier. Heavy blows rained down upon it before a new arm, built from Tinkertoys, unfolded from its chest and long fingers wrapped about her head, holding her back. Grabbing her ankle with a free hand, it hurled her at Cyborg, seconds before several birdarangs imbedded themselves in its form before detonating. Robin leapt through the smoke to deliver another blow with his staff at the creature's face and it snarled furiously as a maw suddenly emerged from its body, formed from triangular blocks and other jagged playthings, and reached over its head to clamp down upon the staff. The Boy Wonder gave a short shout as it stood before throwing its head, tossing him through the air where Raven caught him in her telekinetic hold.
[Just lemme go! I don't wanna play wit'chu!]
"But I thought we were having so much fun together," Beast Boy quipped without his usual exuberance as he slashed at the creature's knee, tearing away components and causing it to drop down again. Catching the third arm, he ripped it away and cast it aside before dodging the blow from the elongated arm aimed at his head. A crate, encased in a black aura, sailed through the air, smashing into it and launching it from its feet.
"This thing," Raven noted as she landed upon the ground. "It's . . . it's like a child. Impulsive. Surly. Loud."
"And strong," Cyborg added as he offered a hand to Starfire, helping her to her feet.
"And running," Robin grunted as he raced by, pullin a grapnel launcher from his belt. Jump ropes, tied together, unfurled from their foe's arm and wrapped about a beam overhead, pulling it upward. As the leader of the team fired his grapnel, he shouted, "Titans, go!"
"Y'know, it can go back to being boring any time it wants," Beast Boy groused as the girls lifted into the air. With a sigh, he sprang onto the crates, leaping to the top before bounding upward and catching one of the beams. He scaled across it expertly as the quarry crashed through a window, followed shortly by Robin. Dropping to all fours, he leapt through the shattered portal and landed upon the wall of the opposite building, his claws digging into the structure before he pushed upward, crawling to the roof. Starfire and Raven flew past him but he was surprised to see Cyborg follow after them a moment later, fire emerging from his feet and powering him upward.
Emerging onto the roof, he watched the bizarre golem duck its head to avoid a strike from Starfire only for Raven's soul self to seize its foot. Without slowing, it ripped off its legs, rearranging its pieces to push out a pogo stick as a replacement. It was enough of a distraction for Starfire to collide with it, swooping upward and lifting it higher into the air.
"You took those children," she scolded. "You are a very bad man. Surrender now and nobody else has to get hurt."
[No, I'm not!] it shouted, jerking wildly as it tried to escape her grasp. [I'm a good boy. I'm a good boy! And you-you're just a big – a big – a big poo-poo head!]
"You must settle yourself before I drop you!" Starfire warning, struggling to maintain her hold. "Please, stop the struggling. I do not want to be doing the -"
Her words were lost as the pieces of its body she had grabbed suddenly broke away and the construct plummeted into the distant alley below. Starfire looked down in horror as it splattered against the street, sending its pieces scattering through the alley, and attracting the attention of civilians upon the street. They curiously peered into the enclosed space as the golden girl flitted downward, followed by the other Titans. She kneeled amongst the toys, picking them up remorsefully and Robin approached hesitantly, laying a comforting hand upon her shoulder.
"I-I killed it," she said as the civilians hastily pulled their phones from their pockets.
"Star, it's -"
"It's alive!" Beast Boy shouted as the pieces sprang together and lashed out at the gathered heroes, throwing them all back. Gathering into a diminished humanoid form, it scuttled from the alley, pushing through the crowd that had gathered as the teeangers recovered and Cyborg scowled after the escaping being.
"Somebody needs a spanking," he grumbled and launched a pulse from his sonic cannon that took out one of the golem's legs and caused it to crash onto the sidewalk.
[Rrrraaaaaaahhh!] it snarled in frustration. [Just leave me alone! I don't wanna play anymore.]
Throwing an arm back, it launched a volley of jacks with enough force to imbed them in the brick walls of the alley as the heroes ducked behind whatever cover they could find.
"Why couldn't he be throwing teddy bears at us instead?" bemoaned the changeling as the abnormal ammunition bounced off the dumpster that he and Raven had taken refuge behind.
"When have we ever been that lucky?" she returned dryly before casting a concerned gaze at him. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Why don't you just go ahead and find out for yourself?" he suggested coldly.
She bit back a response, ducking her head and missing his wince at his words. His mouth opened but she had turned her attention towards the pair of dumpsters shielding them and dragged them so that they filled the alley before pushing them at their foe. Ceasing its barrage, the creature hurriedly reattached its leg and scrambled towards the street as the Titans emerged from behind the barrier. It launched a series of Frisbees at its hunters and Beast Boy instinctively caught one in his mouth, looking pleased with himself before he realized what he had done. He spat it out with an abashed chuckle and caught up with his companions who had paused upon the sidewalk and were scanning the gathering crowd.
"Where'd it go?" he asked, joining in their scouring of their surroundings.
"I think I could take a guess," Robin grimaced and they followed his finger to a toy shop across the street, its storefront window broken inward. The door was thrown open and a clerk burst out of it, nearly falling before he fled, putting as much space as he could between himself and the store. Seconds later, the brick front of the shop burst outward and cars screeched to a halt, passengers covering their heads as a rain of bricks pounded down upon the cars. As the dust cleared, a giant lumbered from the devastation, its form reconstituted and larger than before. Hundreds of unblinking eyes regarded the Titans from the mass of doll heads that sat between its thick shoulders.
[There,] it rumbled, its voice thundering through their minds. [Now we can play.]
"Sooooo . . . who wants to reclaim some of the childhood that we all lost out on?" Beast Boy asked.
"I can pass," Raven returned as the team leapt apart, dodging the flail-like limb that swung at them. Fingers dug into the cracked earth and dragged the monster across the street, further separating the young heroes.
"Raven, Beast Boy, clear out the civilians!" Robin directed, dodging the fist that cracked the pavement. "Cy, Star, with me! We're going to give somebody a spanking."
"Boo-yah," Cyborg agreed as both his fists shifted into sonic cannons.
[No! I don't wanna spanking!]
The fist it had raised was struck with the sonic blasts and its stare was turned towards the techno teen, jump ropes lashing from its ruined limb to seize him and toss him into the air. Before he could activate his thrusters, strong hands scooped under his arms and he was delivered safely to the ground before Starfire hurtled towards the monstrosity that was preparing itself for another attack. She pushed it back into the now empty street, sending it toppling over, but before she could break contact, a swarm of colorful, grinning teddy bears grabbed at her legs. Grunting, she tried to fly away as more emerged from the mass of toys, crawling higher along her body.
[Come in and play with us,] they pleaded, a multitude of voices sounding in her head. [Come in so that we can play forever and ever and ever.]
"I do not want to play right now, thank you," she responded cordially, crouching before rocketing into the air, managing to break the monster's hold. As she pulled away, several bears still clung to her only to fall inert as she distanced herself from the towering form that reached after her. The hand was intercepted by several batarangs that detonated, followed by a sonic blast that finished the job of tearing apart the hand. Raven raised a barrier against the tumbling dump trucks and other vehicles that broke apart from the arm.
"He is easy to do the disassembling of," Starfire reported as she pulled off a pink bear that had managed to hang upon her shoulder and looked up at her with a bright smile. "And is much more adorable when so and not trying to make us dead."
"Most things are," Robin agreed as he shouted to the other members of the team. "Focus on separating it! Don't let it regroup!"
"Yeah, that's a little easier said than done," Cyborg grunted as he fired another blast at the golem even as it smashed its stunted limb against its fallen components, gathering them back up as it lumbered to its feet.
"Just follow my lead, tin toes," Beast Boy suggested as he landed on his shoulder, patting him on the head condescendingly. Cyborg scowled as his friend jumped upon their foe, claws emerging from his gloves as he slashed at the toys that sprang at him, tearing and tossing them away. An arm sprouted behind him only to be torn away by a shriek, causing the changeling to glance over his shoulder at the smirking Cyborg.
"Got your back, green genes," he shot back and the green youth gave a close-lipped grin before continuing on his rampage up the thick arm.
The other Titans circled about the giant, diverting its attention and pulling away whenever it swung towards them. Grabbing an empty car, it lobbed it at Cyborg who leapt out of the way as it crashed against the sidewalk, shattering its windows and releasing a blaring alarm. Lifting his cannons, his retaliatory blast struck the foe in the shoulder, weakening the joint enough for Raven to seize it in her soul self and fully separate it, letting it crumble in the street. With a keening whine, the monster shifted its body, shrinking as it rearranged its form for a new limb that it proceeded to swing at the Titans with. It bore down on the most recent offender with savage speed and Raven barely managed to erect a domed shield in time, which shuddered under the first blow and began to crack at the subsequent strikes. She winced as her barrier grew increasingly weaker before Robin sprinted forward, slamming his staff into the ground and causing it to elongate, holding off the final strike.
"Move," he ordered and Raven dropped the shield before they both followed his command, jumping out of the way as the fist impacted against the street, cracking the pavement.
[Crush you!] it bellowed. [I'mma crush you all!]
"I think not," Starfire declared as she caught an arm and, with strategic slashes delivered by Beast Boy, tore it away. It shrieked, losing its words in its fury as it stumbled forward, trembling again as it pushed a new extremity from its body, balancing upon it as it swiped at the heroes.
[Leave me alone!] it suddenly shrieked piteously, almost sobbing. [Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone!]
"We will!" Robin answered, standing in front of it. "All you need to do is surrender."
The construct stared at him for a moment, considering his words before rearing up, lifting its arms over its head.
[I. Don't. WANNA!] it roared and Robin gave a resigned sigh.
"Then, I guess we're done here."
He launched the last of his explosive batarangs as the other Titans delivered their own attacks in practiced synchronicity. It writhed at the simultaneous attack, but its form was dwindling too fast for it to recover and it fell to the ground as it became lopsided, still struggling futilely against the onslaught. Toys scattered across the street and sidewalk, falling away and it desperately reached for them, trying to rebuild itself, but its cohesion was slipping. Finally, it broke apart, slumping into an unorganized pile and while the Titans ceased their attacks, they remained vigilant, circling about the mass. There was a slight shift towards the edge, but it did not escape Beast Boy's gaze and he pounced upon it. A moment later, he rose with a baby doll struggling ferociously in his grip.
[Lemme go, you big bully!] it demanded.
"Shut it, Chucky," ordered the shape shifter, grimacing as he held it by the ankle and looked to the others. "Okay, somebody take the devil doll before it ends up possessing me or something. I'm always the one that gets possessed."
Jump City Mall. 1327 Hours, 14 AUGUST 2014
Hooded eyes gazed about the mall with a disgruntled stare, eyeing the men and women who milled through the complex setup of the stores. Music filtered from speakers overheard, largely lost in the mumble of the crowd and the intermittent shrieks of children, which her glower instinctively flickered to, ascertaining their safety before returning to her sullen scrutiny of her surroundings. The arcade roared and bellowed belligerently with sound, flashing lights bright enough to keep her from ever levelling the full force of her glare at it. A dizzying array of scents filled the air, competing for her attention and her stomach gurgled at the more savory odors. Her hands were stuffed in the pouch pocket of the light, hooded sweatshirt as her unique form of sense was similarly assaulted by the whirling emotions of the crowd, including her redheaded friend who clasped her hands together excitedly.
"Most glorious," 'Kori' beamed at the hustle before looking towards her friend. "Where shall we commence the spree of our shopping?"
Holding back a sigh, 'Rachel' swung her tired eyes towards the taller girl and answered, "Kori, we're not here to go on a spree. Actually, I'm not certain we even really need to be here."
"Friend Rachel," she admonished. "You are in a most dire need of a dress for the upcoming date, and our sizes are too different for us to be doing the sharing of such garments. Now, come."
The insistent girl looped her arm about her friend's elbow and excitedly tugged her deeper into the sprawling domain. Unbridled joy flooded through Rachel at the contact and a small smile crept onto her face before she realized it was there and immediately pulled her lips back into a flat scowl that could not deflate Kori's elation.
After a depressingly short inventory of Raven's wardrobe the day prior, the resident alien had decided that there was nothing suitable within it, the redhead had declared, with suspect glee, that a venture to the local shopping center was necessitated. The morning brawl had not deterred her, and Beast Boy's volunteer to handle the clean-up had earned him a powerful hug from the alien and a fierce glare from Raven that he chuckled weakly at. Cyborg had been coerced into handing over the keys of his precious T-Car, currently disguised as a compact, black car, though he had managed to add the stipulation that only the dour girl would drive the vehicle. The tall girl had relented and accepted the condition with a mumble in her home language, but any resentment had vanished as they emerged from the hidden tunnel on the streets of Jump City. With her usual exuberance, she had rolled down her window and turned up the radio, joining in the lyrics and encouraging others to sing along whenever they were stopped at a traffic light.
At several points along the way, the disguised Rachel had considered a detour, something to forestall their arrival at their destination, but was forced to surrender to her friend's glee. Their arrival had only fuel Kori's delight and Rachel struggled not to let it overwhelm her as the emotions of the other shoppers flashed through her. They brushed by a man talking animatedly on his cellphone and she was briefly consumed in a swell of affection, irritation, and sorrow. Another boy bumped into her and she was suddenly possessed by a bloom of lust and desire for her and Kori's bodies that left her feeling somewhat dirty. She was almost thankful for the bubbly girl that strode by, filled with joy at her purchases, but the elation had faded by the time the tall girl had dragged her into the first of the sparsely lit store.
She wrinkled her nose at the smell of perfumes that clouded the realm while Kori briefly abandoned her to admire a sheer purple dress upon a table. The fashionable garments were arrayed on various racks or arranged carefully upon stands and tables, folded to best display their features as they in the intermittent points of light. Interspersed throughout the stores were mannequins modeling the garments, posed in natural positions and all the more suspicious for it. Rachel eyed their blank faces distrustfully before approaching footsteps drew her ire towards the pretty employee that offered her a synthetic smile.
"Excuse me, miss, can I help you with something?" she asked with practiced pleasantness. "Are you lost?"
"Not exactly."
"Oh. Well, I'm not sure that we have whatever you're looking for here, but I might be able to help you find -"
"A dress!" Kori exclaimed excitedly, leaping into the conversation and startling both of the other girls. Failing to note their shock, she continued, "Friend Rachel must undergo preparation for a date and requires a dress."
"It's not a date," clarified the dark-haired girl as the clerk eyed her disbelievingly before giving a small shake of her head.
"Okay. Well, if you need any help finding something or if you have any questions, I'll be at the desk," she offered as cheerily as she could manage before leaving Rachel to the mercy of her friend. She was immediately whisked away to a circular rack as Kori eagerly pawed through them, regularly pulling one off to hold up against her friend's body, envisioning her garbed in it. Some would provoke a small frown and a shake of her head before it was returned to the rack, but most were thrust into Rachel's arms, quickly growing into a sizeable pile. Once the taller girl determined that her companion was sufficiently laden, she harried her to the dressing room and pushed her inside.
She diligently tried on the dresses, though she rejected the more risqué options that she returned to the innocently smiling Kori, and reluctantly modeled them for her friend. The occasional passerby would pause to take a glimpse at her and she would duck her head to hide her flushed cheeks at the trill of attraction that slipped from them. Regardless of the enthusiastic applause showered upon her by her companion, she found some flaw in the garment and returned to the room to remove it and slip into the next. Finally, she emerged to deposit the entire stack that Kori had selected back into her arms, prompting her to frown and furrow her brow.
"Are you certain that none of these meet your approval?"
"Kori, I appreciate what you're trying to do. Really. But, maybe we should just give up," Rachel suggested, trying to keep the hint of hope from her voice. "Dresses aren't really my style."
"I shall not give up!" she declared fiercely, throwing aside her burden to clasp her friend's hands, eyes blazing with the passion of her claim. "I swear to you, friend, I shall not rest until I find a dress worthy of your beauty!"
"Kori, people are staring. Again," she said tiredly and the redhead released her hold before gathering up the considerable pile of dresses.
"Do not move," she instructed sternly. "I shall return promptly."
"Can't wait," she sighed as the tall girl bustled from the changing room, returning the garments to their proper place. The dark-haired youth watched her for a moment before her gaze shifted towards a circular rack of various garments that had been gathered together after the rest of their brethren were sold and their fashions had faded. She lazily sifted through the motley assortment, more to keep her hands occupied than out of any interest, but paused when she happened upon a rare flash of color amongst the drab tones. Her eyes darted upward, finding Kori who was still in the process of returning the clothes, slowed by being forced to remain earthbound.
Glancing back down, she slowly drew the flattering red dress from the line-up. It dangled from the plastic hanger by thin straps, nearly nonexistent, and the silken material would have barely reached halfway down her thighs. It ran along her hands smoothly, sliding like water as she lifted it for inspection, careful to turn and hide her study of it before Kori could spot her in one of the many mirrors about the store. The bright crimson was unlike anything she had ever worn, a hue that would have stood out even amongst the rainbow of her emoticlones, and she almost had to squint at the brightness. She bit her lower lip shyly as she envisioned herself draped in the dress, the color contrary to her typically grey flesh.
"My friend, that is most marvelous!"
She whirled about as Kori flitted forward, snatching the dress from her and staring at it with bright eyes before turning and holding it against Raven for consideration. Her lips pursed together and her gaze narrowed before she nodded excitedly and passed it back into her hands. Strong fingers gripped her shoulder and spun her about, ushering her towards the changing room as she struggled to resist her friend's superior strength.
"Kori – Kori –"
"It is most stunning! You must don it immediately so that I may gauge its beauty!"
"Kori, wait. Stop. I-I'm not going to buy this dress."
Her protest finally managed to halt the taller girl who frowned before spinning her about again to meet her gaze. She hurriedly explained, "I-it's too . . . bright. The color – it hurts my eyes. And don't you think that it's a bit . . . short?"
"It is a wondrous hue," she argued. "And you reveal more of your legs in your standard suit."
"Not with my cloak on. And at least the rest of my body is covered."
"X'hal. This planets and its obsession with clothing," she muttered under her breath before fixing a mild glare upon the other girl. "Very well. Then we shall continue the search."
True to her word, she scoured the store for anything that Rachel would acquiesce to wearing before dragging her to several other stores. At every stop, the attendants of the store would look at the juxtaposed pair with slight perplexity, trying to reconcile the plain and darkly garbed girl shooting them glares with the bubbly redhead attired in bright, fashionable attire. The latter paid no notice or failed to as she excitedly gushed about their epic quest for a suitable gown, maintaining her enthusiasm with each retelling.
Her fervor was infectious and Rachel found herself modeling for more than one on several occasions, prompting her to glow red under the critiques before she disappeared back into the room. However, the empathy recognized that her friend had been growing increasingly quieter, for a reason beyond their failure to find an acceptable dress. As she slid off her hoodie to try the latest option behind the slatted door, she called out to the redhead.
"Kori, are you . . . are you feeling all right?"
"Of course," she chirped, her voice coming from directly outside the door and Rachel could hear her straightening. There was a brief hesitation before she asked, "For what reason are you asking?"
"This morning, when we had that . . . incident," she hesitated, searching for the proper words to use in the case of any keen ears that might catch their discussion. "You weren't . . . you weren't using your full talents. Is everything okay?"
There was no immediate response as Rachel pulled the dress on, frowning at the reflection in the mirror as she pulled at the hem. She paused as Kori, who had remained a vigilant sentinel outside the small room and knew there were none listening in on them, took a deep breath and answered.
"Since our adventure at the bank, I have been . . . plagued by thoughts that are the troubling," she confessed, fear starting to seep from her. "I-I think of everything . . . on fire. Burning. A-a-and I like the idea. I wish to make it come true. I dream of smelling the smoke, hearing the crackle and hiss of the flames . . ."
Her trembling voice broke off and Rachel, who had paused in her adjustment of the dress, furrowed her brow at her friend's distress. Before she could voice some words of comfort, Kori sniffled and brokenly admitted, "I do not like it. Where I once found joy in my . . . talents, there dwell darker things."
"And you're scared that if you start using your talents, you'll give in to this temptation?"
"Yes," the redhead nodded as she leaned against the door, glancing down at her open hand. She closed it and dropped her arm as she let her head fall back against the door, rubbing her arm with a touch of anxiety. "When the Citadel gave me these powers . . . I was scared of them. But I learned how to use them. To do good with them. But that fear is back now. And it will not go away."
Rachel glanced at herself in the mirror briefly, smoothing out the blue dress over the swell of her hips as she considered her friend's situation. The turmoil, which she had kept contained beneath her bubbly exterior, had risen to the forefront and it filled her with a deep dread. Closing her eyes, she took a steadying breath and exhaled the foreign emotions that sought to overwhelm her own. Calming herself with several further breaths, she opened her gaze and advised, "I understand fear over your own powers. It's . . . it's something that I've lived with for most of my life. Of what they could do to people. I know it's been a while, but if you'd like to join me for meditation, you're always welcome to. I don't know if it would help, but -"
"No," she interrupted, giving a small sniff. The tide of fear and sorrow was quickly being replaced with happiness and deep gratitude. "No, that sounds most excellent. Thank you. Now, let me see your new garment."
"One minute," she asked as she looked at herself in the mirror again. The dress was the shade of midnight, fully black and somber as it hugged along her curvaceous body. Its wide neckline skimmed below her collarbones and the long sleeves reached to her hands that plucked at the hem hovering above her knees. She pulled on it as she gnawed upon her lip, eyeing herself in the mirror before emerging hesitantly. As she came into view, she was greeted by an excited squeal and wild clapping as Kori's eyes sparked eagerly.
"Friend Rachel, you look most beautiful!" she said before sobering and sighing, "But, I suppose that this dress is not meeting the standards either."
"No," she said, surprising her friend who snapped her gaze upward. "I-I . . . I like this."
Unleashing another excited squeal, she scooped up her friend in a tight hug, lifting her easily off the floor before realizing where they were. Quickly setting her back upon the ground, she could barely contained her exultation and bounced excitedly upon the balls of her feet as Rachel fought to keep the smile from unfurling across her face. Turning her about, the redhead pushed her back into the changing room and urged, "Hurry! We must make the purchase! Hurry, hurry!"
"Kori, relax. Nobody else is going to be able to buy it while I'm wearing it," she reasoned but entered without further complaint, pulling the door shut behind her. The hangers from the other options clattered together as the young woman gathered up and left her friend to change as she returned the garments to their original positions. When she emerged, Kori was still absent and a quick survey of the store did not uncover her.
"Kori?" she called out but received no response. Emerging further from the dressing area, she scoured the aisles, scanning for the familiar flash of red that she only found in the pale imitations of fabrics. "Kori?"
When there was, once again, no answer, Rachel sighed and strolled towards a young woman busy folding t-shirts. She cleared her throat, causing the clerk to give a small shriek and a jump, which she apologized for with a brief grimace, she asked, "Excuse me. Have you seen my friend? Tall, redheaded?"
"Looks like she should be on the pages of a fashion catalogue?"
"That would be her."
"Yep. Umm . . . she told me to tell you to wait here for her. She said that she would be right back."
"Wonderful," she sighed as the young woman fluttered away to attend to a different rack of clothes. Rachel glanced about the dimly lit store with the aromas meant to mimic natural scents, accentuated by the ostentatious, false plants. She pointedly avoided the enlarged photos of half-dressed models, flushing slightly when her gaze drifted pass them. Sliding through the alleys of the displays and racks, she drifted through the store and sifted through the garments, amazed at the sparsity of some of them. Years as a superhero had left her largely nonplussed to even the skimpiest of costumes, but she still struggled with the idea that people wanted to show off that much skin on a regular basis. Making her way to the counter, she reluctantly purchased the clothes and moved to the entrance, prepared to wait there only to almost collide with Kori.
"My friend!" she squeaked in surprise, immediately tucking a bag behind her back. As she cleared her throat, Rachel could feel the anxiety rolling off of her before she presented her with a beaming smile. "You have acquired your attire?"
"I did," she nodded. "And what did you go to 'acquire?'"
"Clothing," she said hurriedly. "For me."
"May I see?"
"I, uh, I am afraid that it is the sort meant only to be seen by myself and boyfriend Richard," she assured her with a weak smile and the shorter girl could feel the distortion of the truth. However, she relented with a sigh and moved away from the store at a swift pace, eager to leave it behind.
"Thanks," she grumbled, playing along with the charade. "I really needed that image in my head. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back home."
The Yard, JCP. 1332 Hours, 14 AUGUST 2014
Arson paused as he emerged from the prison to glare up at the sun, shielding his eyes as the other prisoners poured out around him. His glare upon the celestial body relented after a moment and he turned it about the prison yard, spotting the various guards on patrol. Grumbling to himself, he ran a blunt finger along the brim of the cap stuffed in his pocket lovingly before shuffling along the side of the building. The fingers of his spare hand traced over his scarred scalp, briefly shielding it from the oppressive rays and he ducked into a small patch of shade provided by one of the jutting partitions of the structure. Wedged into the corner, he dropped his head back to rest against the cool brick and released an appeased sigh as he relaxed. Eyes closed and thumbs hooked in his pockets as he tried to sink into the wall, he began to mumble to himself with questionable melody, tapping his foot to keep time.
". . . Never hunger, never prosper . . . Ah have fallen prey to failure! . . . Struggle within, triggered again . . . Now the candle burns at both ends! . . ."
"HEY! You tryin' to start something?!"
Halting in his recitation of the song, orange eyes opened tiredly and Arson rolled his head to regard the basketball court where a trio of towering men were advancing upon a notably gawkier inmate. The pale youth was hurriedly backpedaling, hands between him and the behemoths as he struggled to formulate a response. Displeased with his lack of haste in doing so, one of the giants' arms snapped out and lifted the gawky boy off his feet.
"My friend asked'cha a question, punk. You gonna answer him?"
"L-l-look, I-I really didn't actually mean any – I will peel the flesh from your bones as you sleep! – W-wait! I-I-I didn't mean that at all, honest! I swear – ulp!"
As protests and pleas continued to tumble from his mouth, the giant capturing him cocked back a fist only to be halted by a gruff voice.
"Ah tell y'all, bullies these days. Y'know, ah git the whole need to prove yerself, but what exactly are y'all provin' by pickin' on a twig like that?"
The eyes of the gathering crowd swung towards Arson who had grudgingly moved to stand upon the cracked pavement of the court, hands tucked into his pockets. Wincing slightly, he retracted one to lay it across the top of his head as he met the frantic, multicolored gaze of the trio's captive. The group eyed him with annoyance and did not relinquish their hold on the squirming youth.
"Don'cha already got a boyfriend, Arson?" one of them sneered. "Or were you looking to build up a harem while you're here?"
He sighed, dropping his head for a second before lifting it and snapping, "Boy, ah think ah've ahready proven that it's a very bad idea to fuck with me. Y'all sure yah wanna go and find that out for yerselves?"
Tense silence followed until the central figure of the trio snorted and waved a meaty hand dismissively.
"Leave the punk. Ain't worth the sweat."
The pale boy was abruptly dropped back upon the ground as the small group turned back towards the basket, one of them snatching up the dropped ball and lobbing it at the ragged tower with daunting force. Arson nodded his head appraisingly as the crowd, disappointed at the dissolution of the violence, dispersed with a grumble. Dusting himself off, the youth glanced up to see his savior disappearing and hurried after him, catching up with Arson as he returned to his shadowed sanctuary.
"Hey, I, uh - thanks. For, you know, not letting them break my face or anything," he said.
"Bein' a criminal don't mean yah have to be a dick," reasoned the elder man as he settled back into the corner. He frowned as he studied the boy, noting both his youth and the metal band circling about his head. "Ain't yah a bit young to be in here?"
He tugged at his fingers as he shrugged, looking about anxiously, "This is the best place to treat my powers. It was this or the asylum, and, well . . . I don't do too well in asylums."
"Ah feel like most folk there are sayin' the same thin'," he observed with a small grin before thrusting his tattooed arm forward. "Arson, by the way."
"Henry. Henry Hill, Jr.," he answered promptly, giving a grip with strength that belied his scrawny frame. "But, uh, the alias is Deimos."
"Who?"
"It's, uh, he's a Greek god. See, Alyx is Phobos because of her fear-stuff, and I'm Deimos because we're like siblings, and -"
"Kid, yah ain't makin' much sense at the moment. Relax. Yah need a cig?"
"A what?"
"Cigarette," he clarified, sliding out one of his packs and offering a stick from within it. "My fav'rit of bad habits."
"Oh! Oh, no thanks. Alyx says they're bad for my health."
"True 'nuff," he grumbled as he tucked the pack away. "So, if yah don't mind me askin', what'd a kid like yah do to end up in here?"
"Alyx and I might've maybe robbed a bank. And driven its patrons insane. And shot at the Teen Titans," he admitted. Arson stared at him with an arched brow for a moment before breaking into boisterous laughter, throwing his head back. Henry chuckled weakly as he rubbed at the back of his head until the scarred man subsided and wiped a tear from his eye.
"Ah. That was a good laugh, kid. It might just be that your keister was worth saving."
"You realize that it sounds like you're flirting with him, right?"
Orange eyes flashed as his lips pulled into a short-lived scowl at the approaching figure who he nodded to.
"Don't worry, Rube. He's not my type."
"Hey, I'm the one who actually has a girlfriend," he retorted before dropping his voice. "Who these assholes keep denying me conjugal visits with . . ."
"Henry, this crybaby is Rube. Rube, this is Henry," Arson conducted the introductions bluntly and the pale boy eagerly thrust his hand forward, which the young man accepted with a nod.
"Rubio," he corrected. "Sadly, it's a few too many syllables for burn ward over here to pronounce."
"You two are . . . friends?" Henry wondered, unsure of their interactions.
"Cellmates," they answered simultaneously though only Rubio continued, "I try to keep him out of trouble so that nobody accidentally shanks me in the middle of the night or something, but he's insistent on pissing off as many people as he can in here."
"Not everybody," he grumbled. "Just the assholes that deserve it."
"Arson, dude, don't know if you noticed, but this is a prison. Quite literally everybody in here, including you, is an assho - hey!"
There was a blur of motion and Rubio was suddenly hauled into the air and slammed against the wall, a fist balled in his jumpsuit. He gazed down the scrawny arm in surprise at the heterochromatic eyes that pinned him with an icy stare. Aside from an arched brow, Arson gave no signs of surprise and quickly turned his orange gaze upon the guards, thankful that none approached.
"Watch your language," Henry growled, his voice suddenly deep and guttural as though his throat had been scorched. "The woman who's practically my sister is locked up in here and if you say anything, anything, to insult her again, I'll push your eyes all the way back into your skull and pound it into paste until Death herself can't recognize you and your soul is left to rot forever here upon Earth. Clear?"
"Crystal," Rubio grunted before he was unceremoniously dropped to the ground as Henry hurriedly backed away, shaking his head to clear it of thoughts before looking up worriedly.
"Sorry, sorry! There's, uh, there's a lotta anger issues around here. Some of them kinda got into my head," he apologized, dropping his gaze. "And possibly maybe a dissociative identity or two. Somebody should probably look into that."
"Hey, no need to make excuses," Arson chuckled. "Ah usually can't go a day or two without threatening Rube's life."
He grinned broader under the glare leveled at him before it swung towards the squirming youth and a finger was jabbed to the device encircling his head. Rubio demanded, "Isn't that thing supposed to block all sorts of those freaky mind powers?"
"Mostly," he confessed. "But not entirely. Still . . . it's the most quiet I've had in a long time."
"Well, at least that doesn't sound foreboding or anything," grumbled the young man.
"Ahh, relax, Rube," Arson smirked, clapping a hand upon his shoulder and giving him a companionable shake. "What could possibly go wrong with a psycho telepath?"
Main Room, Titans Tower. 1403 Hours, 14 AUGUST 2014
"We don't need your help!" Robin snapped, eyes narrowed into a fierce glare behind his domino mask as his knuckles blanched within his gloves at the tightening of his fists. "We could handle our problems without you butting in and throwing your money at the problem!"
"Stop being stubborn," Batman instructed, his stern visage splayed across the wide screen. "There's more at play here than you or any of your friends realize. I had to make a move when the opportunity presented itself before it disappeared."
"What are you - What opportunity?" he demanded, brow furrowing in suspicion.
"I have reason to suspect the head of Edwards Freight, and I've had my eyes on them for a while. I've been meaning to get a closer look at their operations, and the incident you created provided me with the chance to do so," he explained.
"The inci- Wait. Hold up. You think there's something going on at Edwards Freight?" he asked, his analytical mind sliding to the forefront. "I mean, everything I looked at seemed to indicate that they've been struggling just to stay afloat - no pun intended. I didn't see -"
"Liar! You fully intended that pun!"
"Who's that?" Batman asked as Robin whirled to glower at the green-skin youth seated at the island, attempting to appear innocuous. He had returned over an hour ago from assisting the police, a bulky object smuggled under a blanket that he had hurriedly stored in his room. With his unknown prize securely hidden, he had lounged about the Tower before sneaking into the kitchen.
"A rather vocal fly on the wall," he seethed at the shape shifter who shrugged as he kept one arm circled about the tub of non-dairy ice cream.
"I didn't wanna make a big fuss and walk outta the room while you were in the middle of a conversation," Beast Boy reasoned as he licked the ice cream scoop clean before digging back into the carton.
"We're going to discuss the difference between that and interrupting me later," he promised before turning back to the elder hero. "Anyway, I didn't see anything wrong with their numbers."
"The company may not be flourishing, but its head, Brianna Edwards, is. She's smart enough to keep most of it out of her traceable bank accounts, but not all of it," he explained. "She wants to be able to readily access some of it, and that was her mistake."
"So, you couldn't have just provided m-us with this information? You couldn't trust us with the investigation?"
"This isn't about you," he scolded abruptly, interrupting his tirade. "Ms. Edwards is currently operating out of her headquarters in Gotham City. It's easier for me to conduct the investigation than you. We'll talk more later. I have to go."
A redhead appeared upon the edge of the screen, the majority of her face hidden behind a cowl as her lips quirked into an excited grin. "Ooh, hey, is that Robin? Here, let me -"
"Wait, we aren't done -"
Both lines of conversation, on other sides of the country, were cut off as Batman ended the communication and Robin growled in frustration before turning sharply and stomping towards the kitchen. His hand wandered up towards his head, fingers twisting in his gelled locks before he realized what he was doing. Shakily relaxing his grip, he pulled his hand back down to his side as Beast Boy watched him worriedly.
"You all right, dude?"
"I - yeah. Yeah. I'm good," he assured him as well as himself as he slid onto one of the stools. "He's just frustrating. He always thinks that he knows best and - apparently - he never feels the need to let me know what he's doing. We could have handled the investigation of Edwards Freight."
"Hey, at least he's better than Mento."
"Heh. I wouldn't put money on that. Did Mento ever make you hold a karate position for hours because you messed up the kata?"
"Well, no, but did the Batman ever tie you up and bury you underground so that you could practice your escapes?"
"Please. If that was all he did, I'd welcome it. Did you ever have to scale a cliff blindfolded? While you were timed?"
"Dude, all the time. I mean, I just turned into a gecko or something, but still. That's nothing. Here's one for you - did you ever have to infiltrate some fake secret base with robotic guards that would attack you and once you made it past them, have to hack some stupidly heavily encrypted computer system?"
"Of cour-"
"Ah! Wasn't finished. And then, if you didn't complete it in time, a bunch of explosives would go off?"
"What? Beast Boy, we're comparing training exper-"
"Oh, that was training. They weren't big explosives. In fact, the first ones were stink bombs, but I had - well, I guess you could say I had a severe reaction to those. Anyway, he switched to goo bombs and then, after that got too easy, Mento started putting in real ones."
Robin stared at his friend with a dumbfounded expression before shaking his head. "That's just - that's child endangerment!"
"Says the dude in the brightly colored suit whose partner works in the shadows," he countered before he shrugged. "Besides, like I said, they weren't big bombs. Little ones. Just to shake me up a bit."
With one hand upon the table, the dark-haired teen leaned back and narrowed his gaze at the shape shifter who hurriedly scooped another ladleful of ice cream into his mouth and noisily cleaned it.
"You know, I believe your claim a lot more than I would like to," he admitted.
"Dude, I swear on the molted Silkie-carapace that Star's got in her room -"
"I really need to convince her that we should get rid of that. I always feel like its watching me," he said in a low tone.
"- that it's the whole truth. Chopped-down-the-cherry-tree-to-make-wooden-teeth-outta-it-and-the-rest-into-a-bible-to-put-my-hand-on truth."
". . ."
". . ."
"You've been saving that up, haven't you?"
"Oh, you have no idea."
"And you realize that your quasi-historical facts are pretty much inaccurate?"
"I can accept that."
Robin chuckled and gave a small shake of his head before lapsing into silence, studying the green boy silently for a moment who consumed the ice cream at what would normally be an alarming rate but was commonplace for the changeling. Drawing in a breath and straightening, he asked, "So, you ready for this whole venture that Star's got planned?"
"You mean going to Genevieve?" he asked and nodded. "Yeah, the place has a pretty sweet menu. Should be good."
"Star said that it's kind of a classy place. Do you need to borrow any -"
"Are you assuming that I don't have any dress clothes?" he interjected and the masked boy winced as he rubbed a hand along the back of his head.
"Well -"
"Don't worry, dude. I got some buried. Somewhere. Actually, I probably should go search for those," he mused to himself, shifting his gaze. With a sigh, he dragged the lid back atop the large tub of ice cream and pounded it down before lugging it to the fridge and tossing it haphazardly into the icy confines of the freezer. Giving a final lick to his ladle, he dropped it into the sink and began to slide from the room only to be halted by his leader's voice.
"Beast Boy!"
Weary eyes turned back towards the table and he grunted, "Yeah?"
"Are you feeling all right? I know everybody's kind of been on edge since we faced Phobos and Deimos, and I've been meaning to make sure you're all right."
"I'm fine," he mumbled and turned again.
"Beast Boy, you know that you can talk to me, right?"
He hesitated, gnawing on his bottom lip before he sighed and executed a full turn though he did not surrender his position at the door. Robin waited patiently as the younger boy gave the carpet between his feet a stern glare as he struggled for the words to express himself. After several moments of the heavy silence, the changeling finally managed to break it.
"When we . . . when we were at the bank and that dude . . . when he drove us insane or did whatever he did to us, he turned me . . . wild. Feral," he explained uneasily, unable to meet his gaze. "And I know I'm not exactly the poster child for restraint or anything like that, but . . . I really don't like it when I lose control like that. And . . . I like it even less when other people take that control from me."
"But you were still there," he argued. "You kept yourself from hurting anybody. You even saved Raven."
"But that-that was instinct," he said before he could stop himself and he winced at his admittance, glad that his odd skin tone hid any blush. He was fortunate that Robin decided not to draw attention to his embarrassment and continued on with the conversation.
"Then you have good instincts," he noted. "If you're worried about losing control, why don't you try talking to Raven about some pointers on it?"
"Raven. Right," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "See, about that . . ."
"Are you two arguing again?"
"Yeah. Kinda. I'm . . . trying to fix it."
"Not to be rude or anything, but I don't get why you have a crush on her," he admitted. "Don't misunderstand me or anything - Raven's a great friend. But, she's distant. And she can be . . ."
"Surly? Snappish? Grumpy?" he suggested with a small smile before he shrugged. "Yeah, there's that. But she's also understanding, kind, sweet. Have you ever actually seen her interact with those kids? It's pretty adorable."
"If you say so," he shrugged and gave a teasing smile. "I'm just gonna chalk it up to your weird tastes."
"Weird tastes? Dude," he scoffed. "Your girlfriend is an orange-skinned alien. Model-level hot, yeah, but still an alien."
"I'm not complaining," he smirked. "But, getting back to what we were talking about, are you going to be all right?"
"With the whole losing my mind thing?" he shrugged. "Yeah, more or less. It's not the first time I've had to deal with this and I doubt that it'll be the last."
"Well, if you don't wanna talk to Raven about it and try to get some help from her, I could try to lend a hand," he suggested with a small smile. "I may not be the expert she is, but I'm not a stranger to meditation."
"Yeah, I think I've seen your meditation. It's where you exercise yourself into complete and utter exhaustion, right? Like, swimming in a pool of your own sweat sort of exhaustion?" he pointed out as he turned back towards the door. "Yeah, I think I can pass on that."
"You don't know what you're missing!" he called after him as the shape shifter strode down the hallway, smiling slightly to himself.
Downtown Jump City. 2048 Hours, 14 AUGUST 2014
Age was beginning to wear upon the once glamorous penthouse, neglect allowing the once polished marble to turn a muddied hue, cracks running through several of the tiles. Fine carvings in the wood were worn from the explorative hands that had touched upon them and dust had settled into the niches. The vibrant cushions of the chairs surrounding the table were beginning to fray and some of the color had faded from their threads. Ashes and charred logs sat in the unused fireplace, spilling out onto the stones. A web spanned the space from the chain of the chandelier to the yellowed ceiling in the foyer, the spider perched upon its threads plump but ever-hungry as waited for the familiar tug of prey.
It scuttled along a strand, pressing against the ceiling as the light suddenly turned on, outdoing the silvery light of the moon while shouts and cavorts drowned out any sound that managed to reach the upper levels from the street. Doyle staggered into his domain, supported between a pair of equally tipsy women, a blonde and a redhead, who broke into shrill laughter as he unleashed another ribald joke. Struggling with the door and a number of bags was a burly man with a heavy paunch and the remainder of his slowly vanishing hair pulled into a ponytail. The man nearly dropped some of the bags as he kicked the door shut with a loud clatter.
"Craig!" snapped the elder man. "Dammit! What've I told you? Don't go around slamming my doors!"
"Sorry, boss," he grunted, struggling under the weight of his burden.
"I tell . . ." he began before taking a clumsy step and chuckling heartily. "I tell you girls, it's so hard to find good - hic! - good help these days."
"Oh, poor baby," pouted one of the lush-bodied women as they made their way into the living room.
"Right? I mean - ooph!" he grunted as they dropped into the couch. Their hands stroked over his body and he licked his lips hungrily as he gazed down a loose top into the generous valley. "I mean, here I am, working hard to keep my streets out of the hands of those fucking spooks and beaners, and I can't even get decent help."
"Hey, my granddad's from Mexico!" interjected the redhead and Doyle turned bleary eyes towards her, squinting as he studied her.
"Well, good thing you didn't take after him," he snorted before swiveling his head about to glare the other way. He barked, "Craig!"
"Yes, boss?" asked the heavyset man, his head peering about the doorway.
"Get me a bottle of the good stuff!"
"On it, boss," he replied before disappearing again.
"Hey, Mr. Doyle, what about our bags?" asked the blonde.
"Craig! Where'd you put Brandi and Chelsea's -"
"Courtney!" she corrected indignantly.
"Shaddup!" he retorted in annoyance. "Where'd you put the girls' bags?"
"On the kitchen table, boss."
"They're on the table," Doyle repeated, looking back to the women as a chime sounded from the dining room. Pausing in his quest for a full bottle of liquor, Craig picked up the phone and his gaze flickered over the text before widening. Hastily tossing the bottle onto the table, he turned to race from the room only to turn and fumble with the heavy bottle that fell to the floor. Managing to put it back in place, watching for a second to ensure it did not attempt a second tumble, he turned and darted into the living room.
"Craig! You fat fuck!" roared the elder man, the sultry affections of the girls unable to quell his temper. "Where's the goddamn whiskey?! The girls are getting thirsty here!"
"Yeah, Craig, we're thirsty. Don't you have something for us to drink?" purred the blonde and her slender foot, free of the wobbly heel, reached towards him. He flushed and danced around her touch to present the phone to his employer, leaning towards the increasingly irate elder.
"Boss, you're gonna wanna see this," he muttered urgently and his glare narrowed before he snatched the phone from his hand. "It's, uh, it's . . ."
"What? Speak up!"
Licking his lips anxiously, he leaned in and whispered, "Its, uh, its about the-the Vulture, boss. I think, I think you should take a look at it."
"What?" he grumbled, lifting the phone to his gaze for closer inspection and skimming through the message. His eyes widened and he lurched to his feet, startling the women who had been attempting to peer over his broad shoulders. He staggered forward and Craig reached out to steady him only to be viciously shoved away as the craggy-faced man snarled at him.
"Keep your goddamn mitts to yourself, you pony-tailed faggot! Get the car started! Move, go!" he bellowed and Craig give a jerky nod before scuttling away. Muttering furiously to himself, the stony man stomped about before surging from the room only to storm back into it and jab a finger at the women and then throw his thumb over his sturdy shoulders. "Skanks. Out."
"What? But, Mr. Doyle, we just -"
"I said, out, bitches!" he thundered and the girls jumped to their feet, adjusting their skimpy attire as they raced past him. They faltered at the table laden with their bags but hastened upon their way as they caught sight of the purpling rage that contorted his roughhewn features. A gnarled hand clutched the phone while the other twitched and spasmed violently, curling into a meaty fist with blanched knuckles before unfurling again. His nostrils flared and his pupils had shrunk to pinpricks and a prominent vein pulsated along his heavy forehead. Swinging about like some maddened animal, limited to expressing himself in savage grunts and growls, his wild stare fell upon the women and his free hand dove inside his thick coat.
"OUTTTT!" he screamed and they sprinted for the door, struggling to do so in their heels, at the heavy handgun he pushed at them. His old fingers struggled with the weapon, but they were already gone by the time he fixed his grip. He thrust the firearm back under his coat, setting it back on safe, and lifted the phone again to glare at it before he shoved it into his pocket. Heavy footsteps crashed against the floor as he tore from the room, exiting the fading apartment and closing the door behind him with a thunderous slam. Trampling down the hall, he jammed a finger against the button to summon the elevator, scowling at the reflection in the pitted metal that reminded him of his advanced age.
The door opened before his rage could reach its breaking point and a heavy fist pounded the button as he entered. As he turned, the doors rattled closed and the elevator lurched downward, jerking and shuddering in its descent. Floor numbers lit intermittently overhead and the hand meant to point to them remained motionless. Stopping prematurely, the doors opened and a laughing young couple prepared to step into the chamber before catching sight of the solidly built man, wisely backing out and allowing the doors to close again. Doyle concluded his ride in silence, undisturbed until he reached the floor of the conjoined parking garage. Waiting for him was the dark, rattling town car that Craig diligently waited beside, opening the rear door at the elder man's approach.
Sliding into the sleek seats, which suffered only from minuscule cracks in the tan leather, he drummed thick fingers on his thigh impatiently as Craig scurried to the front of the car and jumped into the driver's seat. Changing gears, the car bounded forward and it was then that Doyle dared another look at the message he had received from an unrecognized number.
[The Vulture knows. Garcia's dead. Get to the old junkyard.]
He typed his reply slowly, squinting at the buttons that his fingers blundered across. The few words his clumsy texting did not foul up, his phone attempted to correct and Craig instinctively ducked his head at the profanities roared from the back seat. Finally completing his message, he pressed the button to send it and glowered at the bar until it had finally managed the arduous trek across the screen.
[Knows what? Whos this?]
The reply came almost immediately, a small chime upon his phone.
[Gertrude Cornell. She knows about our discourse. She had Garcia killed immediately afterward.]
His eyes widened momentarily before narrowing again as he fumbled through a reply.
[I haven't had chance to call her dad]
[There's not enough time. We need to act now.]
He hesitated, lips twisting as he tapped a heavy finger upon the top of the phone before composing a response.
[Fine. What about the chink n the spook?]
[I've contacted them. They're meeting us there. Hurry.]
[Onw]
Tucking the phone in his pocket, he sighed and leaned back in the seat, glancing out the window towards the clean streets and unmarked walls of the business district. He remembered, years ago, when this had been part of his domain. Before all the capes and cowls had started running around, sticking their noses where they did not belong. Before all the upstarts had started chipping away at his empire, stealing away what was rightfully his, what he had spent years building. Since the Vulture's arrival, he had begun to entertain the notion of reclaiming the territory from those she had slain.
Sitting back in the seat, he closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of the present, a reminder of what had once been his, and envisioned a time when he would control it all again. He drifted into a dream of his undisputed reign over the city, hovering on the edge between wake and sleeping as the car threaded through traffic. The smooth glide of the vehicle assisted him in his subtle transition towards the tumble into slumber and it was only the crunch of gravel that caused him to snap into wakefulness. Startled by the noise, he jolted up in his seat and cast his gaze out the window to find them sitting outside a rusty fence topped with barbed wire. Periodic lights ringing and within the compound highlighted hills of rusted scrap and metal. In the distance, the remains of a car hung from the jointed claw of a hoist.
"Gate's open, boss. Should we . . . should we go in?" Craig asked anxiously, the metallic graveyard filling him with a sense of unease.
"You see any other cars?" he grumbled, turning his head to glance out the windows.
"I see a limo in the parking lot."
Following his finger, Doyle studied the dark car for a moment before nodding his head and straightening in his seat, adjusting his coat.
"All right. Wait out here. Keep an eye out for the others," he instructed as he threw his door open and pulled himself out of the car. Slamming the door shut behind him, he stomped through the gate and down the alleys of piled junk. Drawing his phone from his pocket, he opened his messages and called the number, holding it up to his ear as he listened to it ring. After a moment, the computerized voice of the voice mailbox requested that he left his name and number, and he hung up with a slight frown. Shifting back to his messages, he typed in a quick query.
[Where r u?]
[Near the crane. Are you here?]
[Just arrived. B there in a minute]
Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he marched through the paths, scowling and snarling under his breath at the dirt gathering upon his shoes. He glanced upward regularly, ensuring that he was drawing closer to the massive machine. His gaze flickered towards the towering heaps of pitted machinery, trying to avoid drawing parallels between his surroundings and his own condition. The attempts were not helped by the sight of a car, near the bottom of a pile, that was the same model as his first ride. There was a doorless fridge that reminded him of one that his mother had owned in his distant youth. Tearing his gaze from the rotting relics, he scowled and pressed onward, turning a corner and cutting towards the base of the towering crane.
The clearing was empty, devoid of any signs of life, and Doyle scowled as he glanced around, stalking about the area until he paused at the chime of his phone. He pulled it from his pocket and his eyes narrowed as he glared down at the message.
[The intendment of this missive is to beguile you long enough to manumit the load and its subsequent transit.]
There was a nearby crash and Doyle jolted, gaze snapping towards the dented bumper on the ground before the rest of the crumpled car crashed atop him. Dust filled the air about the sight of the impact, clouding the immediate area. Overhead, the claw of the hoist swung slightly at the release of its cargo, the cable squeaking against the pulley. No other sound intruded upon the scrapyard until a soft gasping sound emerged from beneath the debris. Doyle struggled, barely breathing as his eyelids fluttered over his vision, struggling to stay open. His shadowy gaze fell upon his phone, lying in the dirt and he stretched an arm out towards it, the other trapped beneath the wreckage. There was a growing dampness under his body and no feeling reached to his legs that remained unresponsive despite his struggle to move them, to shift some of the crushing weight off of him. A salty, metallic fluid spilled into his mouth and he coughed, unleashing a spout of blood.
He grunted, straining as the tips of his fingers brushed against the phone before he was interrupted by a clatter and the scrape of metal. A massive, uneven shadow filled his vision and a heavy foot shifted the phone fully outside his reach before crouching in front of him.
"Salutations, old school," rumbled a gravelly voice. "I'm blest to see that you obtained my missives."
He squinted, trying to pierce the darkness that was filling his vision as he asked, "Wh-who . . .?"
"Cash. Our acquaintance is quondam although ephemeral," he explained conversationally but sighed in the lack of recognition in the man's eyes. "The Vulture's sentinel. Her ever-overtaxed famulus."
"I-I . . . wha . . ."
"Perhaps my lexicon is too advanced for you, particularly in your plight," he mused. "You'll have to exculpate me if I don't abate my logorrhea on your account."
"Why wo-wou . . .?"
"Why would I execute you? You sincerely desiderate to posit that inquiry? You engaged in perfidy to assassinate my commandant. Well, not you specifically."
"Th-th-then why?"
"You are obstruent to the boss babe's machinations. Additionally, you're a racist asshole. I could not chance that you would dare to disparage the boss babe's rich heritage," he explained before leaning closer to conspiratorially whisper, "Furthermore, I take an undue delight in the imparting of orifices. Now, I don't suppose you could inform me whether your current predicament will result in your demise? I would presume it sufficient, but have borne witness to more perplexing survivals."
"I'm gonna . . . I'm gonna . . ." he seethed, his voice growing increasingly weaker until all he could manage was ragged breaths. Cash tilted his head, overly bright eyes fixating on the pool of blood seeping out from under the man and he gave a satisfied nod. Pushing off his thick legs, he stood and swung his gaze towards the perimeter of the compound.
"You shall attain the remote finis that is condign to you, old school. Now, if you'll grant me amnesty, I must attend to the demise of your chauffeur."
Doyle struggled to growl out a final threat, but all that came out was a strangled gasp and a new spray of blood. Shadows filled his vision and Cash disappeared into them as he trudged away from the dying man.
Beware: Long note ahead.
We're back! Oh, for the love of all that is holy and otherwise, we're back! Did you miss us? We missed all of you. There were issues, first with our computer, then with our internet, then with out internet and our computer, but we got it all straightened out, so that we could distribute this. Hope you enjoyed our return! For those reading ACS, we're putting up a new chapter in the next day or so.
Anyway, was Plaything (the villain from the opening sequence) creepy enough?
So, we've always kinda envisioned Gar having rather deplorable manners in regards to his own food in terms of eating/drinking it straight from the carton if only because nobody else ever touches his food.
Hopefully needless to say, but Ira kinda enjoyed killing Doyle and wished he could have made him suffer a bit more.
Please review!