HELLLLLLO! I'm back! Who missed me!

A little FWI: The name of the band and the movie I talk about in this chapter are entirely made up! So don't go, "Who are they?" Or "When did that come out?" Because they only exist in my imagination. And trust me, that's a scary place.

For the second time that week, I woke up in an unfamiliar place with my head pounding and my stomach doing flip-flops.
At least this time I knew how I got there, sort of. I remembered the hero-kid's last-second rescue, and I remember fainting, but…where was I?
I forced my eyes open, and looked around for the first time.
I frowned, rubbing my temples. Now I was even more confused.

It wasn't a jail cell, but I already knew they wouldn't take me to prison right away—not in my condition. But it didn't look like a hospital, either. Sure it had stuff you find in a hospital: X-ray machines, examination tables, surgical tools, etc…only everything seemed much more…high tech. Like all the equipment had influences from…I don't know where. Frankly, the place sort of reminded me of an alien's operating room from an old movie I saw a week ago: Invaders from Venus. (all of the alien movies featuring Martians had stopped being made shortly after the arrival of Martian Manhunter, I guess the producers didn't want to look bad.)

Anyways, I clearly wasn't in a hospital, or prison….so where did they take me?
This couldn't be…their headquarters?
I almost laughed at myself for thinking something so dumb.

No, no…there was no way they'd bring me to their HQ, unless they were stupid or something.
I swallowed, hard. Or unless they wanted to turn me over to the League themselves, after all I was on their Top Priority list, right?
In case you didn't know they also have the Joker on their list, yep…they're putting me in the same group of baddies as that psychotic freak.

I briefly thought about escaping, very briefly.

I mean, come on, they were superheroes, I was just some kid who just happened to have good aim, I knew I wouldn't get very far even if I tried. Besides, it wasn't worth it. They were letting me stay in a nice room, I was laying in a bed that was ten times comfier than anything I've ever slept in before, I didn't want to screw it up and have the League put me in a cell before I was actually convicted.

I snuggled deeper into the mattress and pulled the blankets up over me again. The bed was soft and sweet-smelling, the sheets had been freshly cleaned and the blanket was warm and inviting—every fiber of my body begged me to stop worrying and go back to sleep. For the moment I was safe and had a nice warm bed to sleep in. Who cared about tomorrow? Who cared about an hour from now? All that mattered was the right now, and I was going to enjoy whatever freedom I had left.

"Commando?" I kept my eyes closed; maybe whoever it was would just go away…
"Girl, I know you're not asleep. Sit up and look at me." The voice sounded irritated now.
Groaning, I sat up, but kept my eyes closed. I was positive I'd be met with a cop and a pair of handcuffs who likes to throw his weight around—or maybe some sappy social worker who likes to treat every minor they work with like the kid is still in kindergarten. To tell the truth, I wasn't completely sure who would be more irritating.

When I did finally pry my eyes open, I was happy because the person was not who I expected, but shocked because of who it was.
It was a tall, athletic-looking woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. Pretty, but in a 'this-chick-would-gladly-kick-your-ass-half-way-down-the-street-and-back-so-don't-mess-with-her' kind of way. I knew who she was, though, which in this case was not a good thing.

"Black Canary…" I breathed, my fingers instinctively flying for my holsters. But I was unarmed, my guns were probably still back at the warehouse.
I wasn't sure if Canary noticed that little gesture, but if she did she didn't say anything.

"Feeling better? Does anything hurt?" She asked, a touch of concern creeping into her voice. The questions and her tone caught me totally off-guard; I wasn't used to adults asking me how I felt. Normally it was just "You little brat! Get back here with my insert-name-of-stolen-object-here!" or something else along those lines. I rolled my shoulders and stretched, feeling the tension there, and relaxed.
"Everything hurts…" I reported truthfully.

"But I do feel better; it feels like I got hit by a pick-up truck instead of by, oh I don't know… a train—which is how badly it hurt yesterday." I paused, considering.
"Or a few hours ago or…" I shrugged. " You know, whenever, how long was I out?" I asked.

"You were right the first time, you slept into the next day." She eyed me carefully, probably examining the bruises on my face. That was when I first notice my clothes…they were—well, my clothes. I recognized my t-shirt from some defunct rock band called the Jade Dragons, it was black with the band's name written in drippy neon green letters, I also wore my most comfortable pair of sweats—I could tell they were the same clothes because of the mustard stain of the collar of the shirt and the small tear in the one leg of my pants.

How the heck did they get my clothes? And then a more uncomfortable thought hit me, Someone dressed me while I was asleep!

I almost said something to Canary, almost. But she was still prattling on about who-knows-what and I only caught the last sentence.
"In a few hours I'll give you some pain-killers, I'd give you them sooner but…I'm not completely sure how well earthling and Martian medicines will mix."
"Martian?" I frowned.

"Oh, yeah, Martian Manhunter tended to your wounds while you were out. You should probably thank him next time you see him."
Okay, now she's lecturing me about my manners? What next? I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
I went over Canary's words again, next time I see him? What's that supposed to mean? I'm headed for prison…right?

Right?

"Come on, you look like you good use something to eat. When's the last time you had a decent mean?"
At first, I thought she was making fun of me and I prepared to launch back a stinging retort when I realized…I didn't know. Munroe had given me a burger, and there had been fries with but they fell onto the floor and I wasn't sure when it had been cleaned last and…yeah, no thank you.

My last decent meal was probably the sandwiches that Lily made me eat, but before that? Had no clue. I can't count the number of times Lily's had to practically shove food down my throat to get me to eat something. It wasn't because of lack of food, oh no, food was never an issue. I think it was because of stress, with Max's illness and the new crack-downs on crime in Central City it was all I could do to keep myself from having a panic attack and losing it.

"Not hungry…" I mumbled, the words I said so many times to Lily falling easily off my tongue. But, like Lily, Canary wasn't buying it.

"Don't care. You're eating. Let's go…" She grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet.
I was a little dizzy, but Canary gripped my shoulders tightly—like she was expecting me to be a bit unsteady on my feet.
She steered me out of the room and down the hall, giving me the opportunity to look around. The place was huge and filled with expensive-looking décor. Just the kind of place I would rob, if the situation was different.

Canary led me into a kitchen, the most normal thing in the building I'd seen so far, and gestured for me to sit at the island in the middle of the room. I followed her order hesitantly, this whole thing was nuts. One minute I'm about to die, and the next I'm being fed dinner by a superhero. That just proves how truly screwed up my life is.

"Do you like nachos?" Canary asked.
Again, my mind had a spasm as I tried to wrap my head around this whole situation.
Dumbstruck, I nodded and watched as Canary melted some cheese and loaded a plate up with chips.

"I figured I might as well ask, but I don't know a single teenager who'll say no to nachos Water?"
After I figured out she was asked me if I wanted a bottle of water to eat with my nachos, I nodded again.

She set the nachos as the bottle down in front of me and turned around to clean up the slight mess she had made.
When Canary realized I wasn't eating she gave me a reproachful look and opened her mouth, preparing to deliver some kind of lecture.

Something whizzed by my head, and I turned to see a redheaded boy sticking his head in the fridge.
Wow, just when I thought things couldn't get any weirder.
"Hey! What happened to all the nacho cheese?" He whined. I froze in my seat, that voice…the League…red hair…KID FLASH!

The boy turned, noticing me for the first time. I saw that he freckles, a feature that had been covered by his cowl when he was in costume.
"Oh, um…never mind." He stammered awkwardly, clearly not knowing what to say.
"You can have my nachos." I slid the plate away from me. "I'm not hungry."
"No, he cannot have your nachos." She slid it back to me. "And you are going to eat, whether you like it or not."

"Not…" I scowled; Canary was starting to get on my nerves. Superhero or not, I was ready to begin a shouting match with her.
Poor Kid Flash just stood there watching us glare at each other, probably just as confused as I was about the entire situation.
"Hey, KF, where's—oh." A boy about my age came into the kitchen, stopping dead when he saw me.

Perfect, another hero I get to deal with. The reasonable part of my brain griped.
But the idiotic teenage side of me took one look at the boy and started squealing He's cute! Go get him! Get him now! at the top of it's lungs.
"Hey Robin…" I nodded towards him, guessing at the boy's name. By the look on his face, I knew I was right. And come on, who else could he be? Aqualad?

"Would you like my nachos?" I asked him.
"Commando!" Canary leaned towards me, getting angrier by the second.
"Don't keep trying to get rid of the nachos, just eat them!" She seethed.
I honestly wasn't trying to be difficult, but…come on, things weren't exactly going great for me lately. Wasn't I allowed to blow off some steam every now and then?

Robin gave me a long look, like he was trying to decide what to make of me. Apparently he gave up trying and walked away, shouting something about going to train with—did I hear him right?—Kaldur? And the others—the rest of their team, most likely.
Kid Flash took the opportunity to scoot around the furious Canary and follow the younger boy away.

With them gone, Canary's focus was back on me.

"Okay, kid…" She rubbed her head.
"What's the deal with you and food?"
Nothing. I poked one of the chips with my pinky, making it fall into a small pool of cheese.
Does she think I have an eating disorder or something?

"I don't understand…" I mumbled.
"What do you mean you don't understand?" She frowned.
"Kid…it's just food, you need to eat…"

I looked at her and shrugged.
"I can't eat when I'm stressed. Never could…"
Canary nodded like she understood and pushed the plate back towards me, one last time.

"Here's the deal: you eat and I'll take you to Bats and he'll explain what's going on, alright?"
I smiled despite myself, she was using the old trick where she makes it seem like I have more than one choice, but I really don't. I've used it myself a hundred times before.
Deciding just to go along with it, I quickly downed the nachos and chugged the water—making Canary make a face.

"You're going to make yourself sick, eating fast like that."
I turned towards her and pretended to be annoyed.
"First you tell me to eat, then you tell me not to. Jeez, make up your mind!"
"I didn't…oh, just forget it…" She shook her head again and took me by the arm.

She led me down a different hall and we came into a large, spacey room that was occupied by a high-tech computer and…yikes!
I nearly jumped right out of my sneakers. It was Batman, the Batman, standing right in the middle of the room. Suddenly eating nachos in the kitchen seemed like a great idea, why didn't I eat slower?

I shook my head, annoyed with myself. I was Commando! I wasn't afraid of anything! Besides-I wanted to talk to Batman. That's why Canary brought me here. There was no way I could chicken out now.

And yet... I looked at Batman's still form; he probably knew we were there already. According to the stories, Batman knew everything. I figured that most the stories were probably only exaggerated half-truths but…it's different when you're in the same room as him. The man had this aura: controlled, commanding, and a little spooky. I never expected to meet the man, and now that I was there, standing right behind him all my nerve flew clear out the window.

Whenever I committed a crime I encountered cops. Usually they where amateur donut-munchers who weren't much of a problem, sometimes they were veteran cops who took the job seriously—but could be easily side-stepped as well. But a confrontation with the Justice League…it just, never crossed my mind. That may seem stupid, but I guess things just aren't real to me unless they're standing right in my face. I tried to say something, but my mouth was dry and my tongue seemed to keep getting in the way.

Canary helped me out by clearing her throat and saying. "Kid's awake…"
I wanted to look over at her and say "Really, Canary? Because I thought I was sleepwalking..."
But I didn't, I kept my mouth shut. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be me and not be able to shoot out sarcastic remarks at will?

Batman turned and I got the feeling that he had been waiting for me to start the conversation, not Canary.
It seems ridiculous, but that kind of upset me. I had been up for maybe forty-five minutes, and I'd already managed to make at least one adult disappointed.

"Commando…" He greeted with a nod.
"How's the ribs?"
I shrugged and ran my hand over my abdomen—my ribs were the sorest part of my body. It hurt even to breath deeply.
How the heck did he know that? Oh...that's right. He's the world's greatest detective! Crap, why'd I agree to this? I'm so screwed…

I looked at him and tried to think of a good answer, it was harder than you'd think. I didn't want to lie, but I didn't want to seem like a whiner. They hurt, I wanted to swallow a whole bottle of pills just to kill the pain. I figured none of them were broken, but I wasn't sure. All I knew was that I was sore, but not as sore as I should be (Yeah, Martians!)
"Sore." I replied, and then checked out my shoulder and face. Whoever bandaged me up this time did a good job at least; Munroe and Stucco didn't care as long as it didn't fall off.

"But I'll live…" It was a joke, but I didn't even attempt a smile.
There was a moment of awkward silence.
Canary prodded me in the back. "Well…?" She whispered. "Didn't you want to ask him something…?"
I felt like a little kid whose mother was coaching her through her first meeting with Santa Claus, it was humiliating. But also kind of nice, because I'd never had a grown-up woman take any sort of interest in me before. I had to watch my little siblings get showered with affection from our darling mother while my stepdad was trying to decide whether holding my hand was worth the fight that would be the result of it.

"Batman…" I attempted a greeting.
"I, eh…is there a reason I'm here and not, you know…prison?" I wanted to smack myself. Eh? Yeah, Mandy, that makes you sound intelligent.
"Would you prefer prison?" He asked.

My eyes widened in panic. "Oh, no, no…this place—this place is amazing…" I told him truthfully. Actually, 'amazing' hardly did the building justice.
Batman nodded, and Canary looked pleased.
Okay, I said something that they liked. What's that mean? Jeez, I'm so frickin' nervous.

"I'll get to the point." Batman announced.
Finally, I was this far away from passing out from the stress.
"Commando, how old are you?" He asked.

It seemed like an odd question, but I was in no position to argue.
"Thirteen."
"That's Robin's age, are you aware of that?"

I nodded again; I remembered the huge conniption the press had when the Boy Wonder finally entered his teens. He was on every magazine's front page for like, two months. For my birthday I got a cupcake and a Zippo lighter. To say that I was a tad jealous was an understatement.
He handed me a file that I hadn't realized he'd been holding—it was my file.

JILL JACKSON AKA COMMANDO was written clearly across the top in black sharpie and stamped with the League's insignia. It was all the stuff they had on hand for the criminal mastermind Commando. A file, just like the ones they had for every villain in their records.
Not sure what he was getting at, I flipped through the papers. A copy of my birth certificate, the school records that existed for the six months of schooling I had-no record of my running away, which seemed odd. Then, of course, there were the documents from my, um…occupation. The League knew about things I was sure would stay buried forever, buy the time I was done was hands were shaking.

"Do you know why I've shown you this?" Batman asked.
To see if you can make my heart explode from sheer panic? I guessed in my head and forced myself not to dart away.
To show that I'd heard him, I shook my head.

"You have committed many crimes, Commando. I've seen people get life sentences for doing only half the things that are in your file."
I winced, and then nodded. Yep, the man is definitely out to get me.
"But…" He paused.

"You did something that amazed me, something I've never seen anyone ever do before—no criminal, at least."
My brain spun, what did I do? I racked my brain for an answer but came up with nothing.

"What?" I asked.
"When you defeated Flash and Kid Flash, you could've just left, why didn't you?"
I shrugged, what did that have to do with anything?

"When I attacked Flash when his guard was down, I…I don't know. I hate that. I've seen so many people die because of someone pretending to surrender or be hurt, I…It didn't feel right. I felt like everything that the banker said about me was true, even though my friends constantly tell me otherwise. I figured Flash would be all right, little sore maybe, but I hit his…um…protégé pretty hard. I've heard so many horror stories about aneurysms and Second-Impact Syndrome. I'm no doctor, but I decided I'd just…check. Then the police came and I knew they'd have an ambulance, and I wasn't about to stick around then so…" I gave another shrug.

"You act like it was nothing."
I frowned, confused.
"It was nothing; I don't see what this has to do with prison, though. Could you please just tell me what the damage is?"

"You talk like you expect to be taken to jail."
"Well…" I searched his face for any clue of to what he was thinking. But the man's face was neutral, he betrayed nothing.
"I am, right? I mean, you can't just let these things go."

"Actually, I can."
The words hit me like a cannonball. What? Was Batman just going to let me walk? No…no, that couldn't be it…what the heck is going on?
"Umm…" I blinked.
"Umm…"
"Would you like to hear the deal I'm about to offer you."

I'd kiss the man's feet if it meant not going to jail, I nodded.
"I will see to it that all the charges against you are dropped, I will eliminate all evidence of your previous crimes—except for the bank robbery in Central City. You'll just have to hope that it blows over."

"The one that went public…" I sighed.
"Okay, so you'll make the crimes just…go away? Like they never happened?"
"To put it simply, yes." Batman nodded. "But, you'll need to do something in return."

I almost bounced in anticipation; I was prepared to do anything.
"Instead of serving jail time, I will allow you to stay here and join our new covert-ops team."
I stared at him in shock. I kept expecting someone to jump out and yell 'Not!'

But Batman was serious, this was a serious offer.
"Can you…do that?" I gaped.
"That's breaking like…so many laws…" My brain was on high gear, trying to figure this out.

"However, I will not make you do anything against your will. You are free to say no. But I don't think you'll like the second option."
Translation: You'll go the Big House, kid. And considering your a teenager you'll be dead in like, two days.
The choice should've been easy. I mean, come on: A life in prison or a life as a frickin' spy for the Justice League, duh!

But for me it wasn't. I had other priorities, other loyalties.
"Batman…" I gulped.
"Where's…? I mean….what happened to my team?"
Batman paused, thinking. I didn't dare say anything else.

"Your team has been…placed. In various homes. They will be well cared for."
All of my caution and nervousness disappeared like that.
"WHAT?" I shouted.
"WHY ON EARTH DID YOU DO THAT!"

"Commando…" Canary frowned.
"Do not scream at us, we're trying to help you."
I whipped around to face her.

"But…but…Canary, most of my kids ran away from foster homes. How could you put them back there? Oh, God. I promised I'd protect them…" I ran my hands through my hair and kept repeating that last sentence.
I promised I'd protect them... I promised I'd protect them... I Promised…

"Calm down…" Canary gripped my shoulders lightly.
"We know, we spoke to every single one of those kids. The League will have trusted people check up on them monthly. Nothing bad will happen to any of them, I promise."

Promise. I scowled.
Promises mean jack squat in the real world. I should know.
"But there were two kids that weren't accounted for when Lily counted heads." Canary told me, rubbing my shoulders comfortingly.

I smirked. "Avery and Mia?"
Canary sounded surprised. "How'd you guess?"
"Avery is well... Avery. Trying to put her in foster care would be kind of like trying to put a tiger in a cat carrier: Stupid, and pointless because she'll probably maul you to death if you try." I shrugged.

"And Mia…well, she was always a bit….uh, different. Always had that 'deer caught in headlights' look about her eyes."
"Do you think they're together?" Batman asked.
I shrugged. "Av and Mi never really hung out much with anyone. Maybe they're together, maybe not. I dunno."

"So what is your decision?"

I looked at Canary, then back at Batman. I had no idea where I would go from here. All my life I'd worried about others. My own well-being never meant much, but Lily always told me that it wasn't healthy to think like that. Heck, almost everyone I know have told me that. I was on a slippery slope and I didn't know how to stop. It started when life as a criminal got harder. A few years ago, I went by Jill more than Commando. I knew who I was and I liked that person just fine. But then things changed, I started to distance myself away from people. Oh, I could talk big and flaunt my supposed invulnerability like always, but it was so fake. I was a fake. Commando was someone I made up, someone to take my place and take the punches for me. But after awhile, I forgot who I was and my codename became the only identity I had.
Jill Jackson? Who's that? I didn't know anymore. I was Commando, in heart and soul. Lily knew who Jill was, and she wanted her back. So did all my Highwaykids. I would laugh and joke around with them as I always had, but it wasn't real. I'm not sure how many people could tell. I wanted Jill back too, I knew I hadn't been truly happy in a long, long time. Maybe I could find Jill again, maybe it'd be nice not to have to worry about my next meal or how I was going to take care of my friends. Maybe it'd be nice to actually live for once.

I smiled, trying to make it as authentic as possible.

"Bring it on."

HEEEEEEY GUYS! I AM NOT IGNORING THE OTHER OCS! I WILL GET TO THEM! JUST WORKING ON SOMETHING! CHIIIIIL!

This is normally the part where I talk about something random, so here we go: SUPERHERO BIRTHDAYS! These are the only ones I could find on that particular site, I can look up other hero b-days if you want, just gimme requests.

MARCH
21st - Dick Grayson (Robin)'s birthday

JANURARY
16th - Wally West (Kid Flash)'s birthday

AUGUST
17th - Lian Harper (The daughter of Red Arrow and Cheshire)'s birthday (I WANT HER TO COME BACK! I WANT HER ON YJ! I WANT HER! But if she is on YJ, wouldn't that make her Artemis's neice?...COOL!)

OCTOBER
31st - Roy Harper (Red Arrow)'s birthday (Halloween! This amuses me… Isn't there going to be an episode that occurs on October 31st? Maybe we'll get some Green Arrow/Red Arrow bonding!:D)