THE FAMILY CIRCUS
"We really shouldn't be here." Teekl worries, scanning the room. "We should turn back now."
From his spot perched upon his master's shoulders, the familiar counts the vast amounts of heroes sprinkled throughout the main ballroom of Wayne manor. Two, maybe three Kryptonians. Not to mention, a Martian or two. A whole nest full of bats. A cat. A canary. Several archers. Half the police force, including Commissioner. Some familiar faces. Some not. All so very different from the last time they've all crossed paths.
"Just like old times." Klarion hums in excitement. He scratches behind the little cat's ears to ease his troubled mind.
The names may be the same, but the actors sure have changed. Everyone's the same and yet they're not. That's the problem with dimension jumping, keeping everything in order. Remembering who's who and what's what. Picking sides and changing relationships. Teams and partners. Costumes and personalities. Sometimes it's hard to keep track of it all. A hero in one world. A villain in another. Why, the last time Klarion had stood in front of so many greats, he was playing on the wrong side of the fence. A much darker time of his life, struggling to see the LIGHT.
Yet in all the dimensions and worlds and far off universes he's traveled, the greatest inconsistency has always been HER.
Helena. Kitrina.
Bertinelli. Falcone. Wayne. Kyle.
Catgirl. Huntress. Batgirl. Kittyhawk. Robin. Agent of Spyral.
The girl has more identities than a cat's got lives.
And he's met them all. Each and every one. But none of them were HIS. Not like THIS one. This one right here and right now. HER. Whatever name she chooses to go by these days, she will always be his Kitty.
Helena stands just across the room from him. So close and yet so far. Dressed in violet. The material so dark, it's nearly black. Shimmering beneath the crystal chandelier.
Much like her more "nightly" attire, the dress she wears clings to her lovely frame like snake-skin. Long and flowing, spilling out across the dance floor like dark water. Pooling around her feet in satin waves of obsidian and amethyst. The witch's eyes can't help but follow. Starting at her ankles and working up along the deep slit along the fabric, stopping at her thigh.
The opening up the side of her gown acts as a means to keep her legs free for a range of motion. A practical costuming choice should she find herself in need of running or kicking or fighting. But the Warlock's mind is hardly set on fighting at the moment. Right now, his thoughts turn to a whole different sort of tango. And that scent of hers isn't helping any, either.
Even from all the way over here, he can smell her perfume. Like a bloodhound, he could sniff her out anywhere. That delightful scent he knows so well. The heat rolling off her skin. That subtle hint of pheromones dancing in the air. It's the scent of his mate. His one and only. Using his familiar's senses, he breathes her in deeply as he watches her from across the way. It makes his heart burn, missing her so. The animal in him begging to take over.
Klarion spies as she makes conversation with a tall and slender man. This world's Roy Harper. Both laughing and having a good time. Enjoying the party. The red archer siddles in a little too close, however, making Klarion's eyes narrow.
"Hey there, buddy. Long time, no see."
A familiar voice chimes in from behind. A little birdie dropping in unexpectedly to say hello. His old friend and the very person who has dragged him from his daydreaming. Klarion's less than enthused to see him. Especially after their altercation just a couple nights back.
Tim extends his hand, offering it to Klarion to shake. Forgetting himself, Klarion accepts, becoming a fly in Red Robin's trap.
"You hurt your hand?" Tim asks, fishing.
The bird boy's fingers wrap around the witch's wrist, turning his hand over for inspection. Klarion pulls away. Instinctively grabbing his wounded hand, he tries to hide his bandages.
"Yes." Klarion replies with a smug grin. "Magic accident."
Tim's eyes narrow on the Warlock. They both know the wound's from a shuriken he'd thrown at him while dressed as his alter persona, so why hide it? He knows that he's lying. The question is WHY?
He grabs hold of Klarion's wrist once more, this time to drag him and his familiar off to a more secluded part of the manor where they can talk privately. Or at the very least far enough away from Helena's line of sight. Whatever's going on obviously involves her. To what extent though, he hasn't a clue.
"Dude, what's going on with you?" Tim confronts Klarion after finding a suitable location to stop and interrogate. A cordoned off hallway, far from the rest of the party-goers. "You don't come around in YEARS and then you just show up out of nowhere and I find you terrorizing Helena's boyfriend in some alley?"
"Who's terrorizing who?"
Both Tim and Klarion turn to find they're not alone. So much for their super secret location. Not even two minutes in to their little chat and already they've been found out. And by another pair of Robins, no less. Seems the Bat brats like to travel in packs.
"This doesn't concern you." Tim sighs, annoyed at his "brothers" for getting in the way. "I have it handled."
Neither seem to listen. Hands in his pockets, Jason strolls over. Dick, not too far behind.
"Who's the kid with the cat?" Jason asks with the apathetic tilt of his head.
Eyebrow cocked, he gives the witch a once over. As far as he's concerned, the guy's just some funny-looking elf in a tailored suit. Like some sort of over-grown Smurf with a keen fashion sense. Never seen him before and hardly looks to be a threat. Certainly not worth the way Tim's acting. And he made him go ask Dick for help.
"Klarion Bleak." Dick answers nonchalant. "And his familiar, here, is Teekl."
"Familiar?" Jason asks unsure.
"He's a Witch Boy." Tim replies, trying to fill the gaps.
"WARLOCK." Klarion snaps.
"Whatever." Jason sighs with a shrug.
All he needs to know is the kid is magic and he's got some magic cat. Magic. Magic. Magic. God, he hates magic.
"And he's terrorizing WHO?" Todd scratches his head. He can already feel a migraine coming on. Again, how did he get suckered into this?
"Helena's boyfriend." Tim replies simply, as if answering an order from his superior officer.
This revelation surely raises a couple of eyebrows.
"Kevin... whatshisname?" Dick asks, perplexed.
"The bootlicker?" Jason asks, shocked.
Grayson turns to Todd, finding themselves in their own little argument.
"Bootlicker?" Dick questions Jason.
"Oh COME ON! That's an understatement!" Todd defends loudly, throwing his arms in the air and making a spectacle of himself. "The guy's a total kiss-ass! He's a tool! And you KNOW it!"
"Well... yeah. But that's just mean calling the guy a bootlicker..."
Klarion watches the whole exchange between the two older siblings. They're so engrossed in their quarrelling that they've completely forgotten about him. Perhaps it would actually be quite amusing if it weren't so irritating.
Their younger brother, Tim, just stands there beside Klarion. The expression on his face almost looks embarrassed for them. Or maybe just embarrassed for himself for being associated with the two. He crosses his arms and sighs, waiting for their argument to end. Thankfully, it doesn't take too long.
"So THIS guy chased off the bootlicker?" Jason exults. His attention returned to Klarion and Tim.
Todd approaches the two with open arms, taking them by surprise as he throws an arm around Klarion's shoulder in an over-the-top chummy fashion.
"I just HAVE to hear all about this! Tell me everything. Don't spare the gory details." Jason gushes to a very uncomfortable-looking Warlock. "Did he cry? I bet he cried. Wet himself? You know, I always wanted to put a bullet right up that prettyboy's a-"
"JASON!" Grayson cuts in.
"WHAT! Come on. Like you never wanted to?" Todd shouts in return. "Witch Boy, here, deserves a friggin' medal! He's done us all a favor by driving that loser off."
Klarion squirms in Jason's grasp. He's not accustomed to such brotherly affection. He'd open his mouth to say something, anything, but he can't get a word in edgewise. Jason continues his praise.
"Hey! Someone get this guy a beer!" With a grin, Todd turns his head towards Klarion. "Don't worry. It's on me."
Tim facepalms. How did he get lumped in with these chuckleheads? He hates these family reunions...
"AGAIN! It's an OPEN BAR!" Tim shouts at Jason, losing his straight-laced demeanor. If there's one thing Jason's good at, it's pushing buttons. "You CLEARLY don't know how an open bar WORKS! Let me EXPLAIN this to you..." All color drains from Tim's face. He immediately ceases speaking. Eyes trained on the two figures quickly approaching. "Awww... Hell."
Everyone stops what they're doing, focused on the ticked-off lady in purple marching her way over with a very frazzled Roy Harper in tow.
"I'm sorry, Jaybird! I'm so sorry!" Harper apologizes profusely, chasing after Helena. "She tricked me! That wily woman tricked me with her womanly wiles!"
Jason hangs his head low, pinching the bridge of his nose. There's that migraine again.
"Dammit, Roy... You had ONE job!"
"I know! I know! Keep an eye on the girl. Got it!" Harper pants, finally coming to a rest before the group. He bends over, placing his hands on his knees as he gasps for air. Ever the smart ass, he looks up at Jason and grins. "But my eyes are still on her, ain't they? So... technically..."
"JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING HERE?"
Helena shouts at the top of her lungs, demanding everyone's attention. It makes the boy's blood run cold. They silence their antics. Frightened of their younger, if not prettier and much more threatening sibling. It's times like these they remember she's blood related to a certain broody fellow they know. She's certainly her father's daughter. Sometimes it's so uncanny, it's scary.
It's as if no one else in the quiet hallway even exists. Eyes of fire, Helena marches right past her brothers and straight for the Warlock in question. He eyes her as well. Paying no mind to the heroes around him. Only he and she exist in this moment. A smirk slithers its way onto his blackened lips.
"Well, hello to you too, Helena." Klarion gushes with a grin. "I've come to wish you a very happy birthday."
"Cut the crap, Blue." Helena seethes.
Jason perks up at the sound of a certain word. Removing his arm from around the Warlock's shoulders, he takes a step back.
"Blue?" He asks, directing his question towards Helena. Suddenly, he's very serious about something. "THAT Blue?"
None of his other brothers seem to know what it is he's going on about. They all look to him for answers as he puts together the pieces in his broken mind.
"All this time, after all the talks we've had, I guess I always thought you called him 'Blue' as a code name or something to hide his identity. But he really IS blue, isn't he." He notes the witch's rather azure complexion. "Huh... It all makes sense now."
Jason casually inches closer, approaching Klarion once more. This time sans open arms.
"So you're the Blue that broke my sister's heart, then."
Faster than the average person can blink, Jason drops his beer and reaches inside his tux jacket for his holster. By the time the bottle crashes to the floor, he's already pulled out two concealed Berettas and has them trained on the Warlock's head.
How quickly he can turn from bestest buddy to crazed psychopath...
"Dammit, Jason!" Dick cries out in anger. "Bringing guns in here? Are you crazy!?"
Jason cracks a smile and laughs, but his cold, hard stare never leaves that of his hostage.
"Crazy? Really?" He half jokes, guns still aimed. "You'd think after all the times you've tried to lock me away, you'd have your answer by now. Not to mention half Arkham's psych ward tends to think so."
"You mean the ENTIRE psych ward." Harper chimes in merrily.
"Thank you, Roy." Jason grumbles in an irritated tone.
"Don't mention it."
Roy stands just a couple feet away from Jason and the Warlock. He too has his weapon drawn. A bright and shiny red compact crossbow. Just where the hell he pulled that out of though, leaves one to question. That mechanical genius probably had it sewn into his suit.
"Seriously, Roy?" Helena shouts, turning her attention to the archer in the red trucker hat.
Dead serious, he stands with his sights on his target. As does Jason. Guns and arrows all aimed at the witch's head. Killshots, should they choose to pull the trigger.
Sure, Klarion could do any number of things. The possibilities are limitless. An eldridge blast. Turn their weapons into snakes. Throw the whole lot into a portal... But does he really want to risk it? The chance that they're quicker on the trigger than he is to casting spells? It's not worth the chance. And so they stand at deadlock. He doesn't move a muscle, nor does Teekl twitch a whisker.
The mood is so tense, you can cut the thickness with a knife. So quiet, you can hear Jason click the safety off his firearms.
"Sorry, Hel. I've got my orders." Roy replies calmly, pulling back on his bow string. "Touch her and die."
"And do you ALWAYS do what Jay says?" Helena argues.
"Of course." Roy easily returns. "He's our not-so-fearless leader."
"OUR?" She's quick to pick up what the idiot means. Her eyes turn wide. "Oh no... You didn't..."
"Didn't what?" Now it's Tim's turn to speak up. This mission of his has turned into a clusterfuck. And he doesn't much like being out of the know. "What are we talking about?"
Eyes still on Klarion, Jason tilts his head ever so slightly to the left as to speak into the hidden microphone in his collar.
"Starfire. On my mark."
He may act all aloof and a bit of a court jester at times, but just like Tim, he always come prepared. Normal people just bring ice, he brings the fight to the party.
It's like his kid "brother" said, these parties are an open invite to the more colorful sorts. Today's color being Blue and he's the Red standing in his way.
"Koriand'r!?" Dick yells at Jason. He's absolutely astounded at the sound of her name. "You brought KORI?"
Roy can only play serious for so long before his attention runs astray.
"Yeah. She's got the jet parked on the roof with the cloaking device on. Said she didn't wanna come inside cuz... well... You know. You and her..." Harper blurts. He just can't keep that mouth of his closed sometimes. A bit of a nervous habit. He likes to talk. A lot. "And Jay and her... and ME and her..." His eyes flick towards Dick, suddenly feeling like shoving his foot in his mouth. Especially with the sideways glare Dick is giving him right now. "But you don't wanna hear about that! Ok. Shutting up now!"
No one else speaks. Just stands there, waiting for the next person to make their move. Guns and crossbow aimed. Heroes and anti-heroes alike.
Helena rolls her eyes and groans, growing tired of the testosterone fueled bravado stinking up this little hallway. It practically reeks of ego.
She calls their bluff. Walking right up to Roy, she swats him in the back of the head like a mother to a child. Scolding him to put his toy away before he hurts himself.
"OW! What was THAT for?" Harper whines, rubbing his head. She'd nearly knocked his cap off.
One stern look is all it takes for Helena to make Jason put his twin Berettas back in their respective holsters. Albeit, begrudgingly. This makes both Tim and Dick breathe a little easier.
"We need to talk."
Helena grabs Klarion by the arm and drags him off to a small study at the end of the hallway. Leaving her "brothers" to watch as she slams the door in their faces.
They may not like it, but this is HER fight. HER battle to be won. The best they can do is wait and be there for her should she need them. And with Jason's itchy trigger fingers, they'd better hurry.