Issue #45
Do You See What I See?
It had been a while since Bruce Wayne had a reason to make his way to Cartier's. He had no desire to peruse the baubles and jewels located inside or to include the high-end store as part of his standard patrols. After all, only one person in Gotham City possessed the courage to break into the exhibition room where the precious jewels were on display, the skill to do so successfully, and the intelligence to either avoid or tamper with the superb surveillance equipment found inside.
Bruce found this out on the first night he had met Selina Kyle. It was a night in which every single aspect of his evening contained something that he could be infuriated about. He was irritated by his compulsion to investigate the robbery when there were more important things to be doing, annoyed that it took him far more time and effort to unlock the mystery than he anticipated, and he was particularly maddened by the beguiling, insufferable, captivating, unbearable woman who turned out to be guilty of that particular crime.
Richard once told him that while his love for Talia Al-Ghul was rooted in his thirst for perfection. However, his love for Selina Kyle was stemmed in the inevitability of chaos, the part of him that relished that there was something that still needed to be fixed. Even Selina's choice for a meeting place, a glaring reminder of their many conflicted encounters, could easily be construed as yet another of her many efforts to turn his life (and perhaps his mood) upside down. However, despite Selina's maneuvering, Bruce found himself to be quite at ease while his latest former girlfriend perused a hard copy of one of his personal files.
"So you're running the streets of Gotham with a gold medal winner," Selina said as she clamped the file of Cecilia King-Jones shut. "That's a bit of a step up from picking up somebody off the street or from the circus."
Bruce yanked the file away, an easy thing to do given that the two of them were sitting side-by-side on the rooftop overlooking the rest of the Gotham fashion district. "I should have never have let Dick get within 50 yards of you."
"Afraid I was going to corrupt your junior partner?" Selina asked with her throaty purr.
"Well, that and the number of times you tried to kill him."
"What former girlfriend of yours hasn't tried to kill that poor boy?"
Bruce honestly had to give that question a bit of thought. "I'm relatively certain that Vicki didn't have it out for him."
"That's because she was too busy looking for a headline datelined from Wayne Manor," Selina said with a grunt as she stretched across Bruce to snatch Lloyd's file. "Well, you've got quite a team here, my cranky dark knight. The only thing you're missing is a Flash."
Bruce grumbled again. "I knew you would think that."
Selina laughed loudly. "Well, it's not like you did a hell of a job to hide it!" she said through her chuckles. "Steffie's your Green Lantern, Miss Zor-el's taking the place of the Big Blue Boy Scout," the fetching vigilante momentarily halted her diagnosis. "Is Lloyd supposed to be Xena or Marvin the Martian?"
"He's both. Thankfully, he refuses to wear a one-piece swimsuit." Bruce replied, causing Selina's merriment to return in full force. "And I'd also like to point out that I don't have an Aquaman."
"Yes, because having somebody who can talk to fish is an integral piece to the crime fighting puzzle."
"He was always a damn sight more useful than a morally susceptible vigilante with a bullwhip."
Selina tilted her eyebrows upward. "Well, I've missed out on a boatload, haven't I?" She began to swing her legs back and forth over the edge of the rooftop. It took a couple taps against the granite before she was ready to keep going. "And I've lost my spot, haven't I?"
"I'm afraid you'll have to explain that statement before I feel confident enough to respond."
"I bet you do," Selina replied, not the least bit convinced. "I'm talking about that idiotic little smirk you put on your face whenever you feel what your warped little mind construes to be happiness. I felt a whole lot of pride in my being able to break you out of that funk that you like to put yourself in, I'll have you know. As a matter of fact, I was fully anticipating having to spend half the night trying to dig out your rarely seen social side."
Bruce didn't smile quite yet. He wanted to see where she was going with this. "And now?"
"And now I realize that I didn't have to do a thing. Which begs these questions: which of your acquaintances compel you to flash that charming little smirk of yours and should I be inclined to scratch their eyes out?"
The reticent man did not immediately reply, preferring instead to occupy his eyes with the sun beginning its slow slip down the western sky.
"It's Stephanie, isn't it?" Selina asked. "I always did say that girl was either going to get herself promoted or get herself killed."
Bruce shook his head, turning to face Selina as he did so. "It's all of them. I have to admit that I wasn't entirely certain what I would be getting into when I chose to bring them into my life. My only real intent was to teach them to be different than the people I worked with in the past, to be better. And they already are. They've taken everything that's been thrown at them and everything I've thrown at them they keep coming back for more. I left them to watch over Gotham and they turned this town into something better than I could make it and I. . . I feel proud that I may have had something to do it."
"Why, Bruce Wayne: long-running champion pessimist," Selina asked with a lazy smile. "Are you trying to tell me that you're happy?"
Bruce fixed Selina with the coldest of glares. Selina, to her inestimable credit, did not budge an inch.
"I don't do happy."
The former cat burglar responded with a snappy, military salute. She held the gesture just long enough to dissolve Bruce's disdain and force him into bemusement.
"All right, so now I'm going to have to figure out my new role here in this big, bad city," she said with a helping of resolve. "That shouldn't be too much trouble though. After all," Selina murmured as she scooted in closer, "I am well known for my flexibility."
"Indeed you are," Bruce agreed, not even remotely inclined to pull away as Selina moved to kiss him on the lips. He felt the brief jolt of electricity that always seemed to glimmer between them, that undeniable ember which had steered him towards her as many times as it had pushed him away. She was someone that he would always be compelled to have but would never be comfortable with keeping. There was simply too much to get in the way.
But, as damning as it was, he couldn't avoid what he was feeling at that moment.
Selina was the first to pull away, a half-smile on her face and a calm look in her eyes. "Just remember to tell me the next time you drag your son off on a year-long vacation. I may not miss you when you're gone but I do like to know if somebody's looking over my shoulder."
"I will. And I apologize for not telling you."
"I think I'll live," Selina said as she rose to her feet and stretched to work out the kinks. Bruce tried his hardest to divert his gaze but the lazy smirk on Selina's face told him that his failure had not gone unnoticed.
"And I had been meaning to get in touch with you," Bruce continued as he stood up as well. "I've been hearing the most interesting rumors concerning just what you've been doing. You don't happen to have a child, do you?"
Selina groaned. "Please tell me you didn't believe in that garbage. Bruce, do I look like I have the time to mother a child?"
"I never thought that you actually were," Bruce answered in a rather reasonable fashion. "It's just a rumor I heard."
"I do not have a kid!"
"Selina, please try to calm down."
"I have a hard enough time squeezing myself into this damn thing! You think I would actually throw post-pregnancy pounds in the mix?"
"Selina, I understand."
"And Catwoman has been patrolling The East End almost non-stop for the last two years. Who the hell else is supposed to be in this suit besides me?!"
"Well, there is always your friend. Holly Robinson, I believe her name is?"
Now it was Bruce's turn to weather an exceedingly cold glare.
"I'd sooner go back to driving The Catmobile."
Dick Grayson stretched his triceps as he made his way down the steps serving as the passageway between Wayne Manor and The Batcave. Letting loose a small grunt of exertion as he hopped off the final stair, he made his way towards the central computer where his victim was hard at work.
"You know, it just occurred to me that I've spent an unhealthy amount of time talking with people that are not my own age."
Noah continued tapping at his keyboard. If he could hear what Dick had just admitted to then he was doing a damn good job pretending not to.
Dick, of course, saw right through it. "I mean, I spent one year hanging out with my father and whatever aged fighting masters that were willing to take us in. I've spent the last couple months working with teenagers during my patrols in Bludhaven and Gotham. Don't get me wrong. Steph and the other tykes are perfectly good at holding their end of the conversation but the fact of the matter is that it's been far too long since I've had a serious conversation with anyone who either hasn't turned twenty or has already turned forty. It's downright unsettling."
The computer expert continued to plug away at whatever task he was undertaking.
"C.C., I'm just going to keep talking until you give me something to work with. If I can break Bruce then I can most certainly break you."
The older man seriously considered the option of continuing to ignore the prattling younger man. However, after perusing all available options, he surrendered to the inevitable.
"Well, you'll pardon me for my disinterest but I find that, despite my diligent efforts, I simply cannot find any reason to care about your current emotional struggles. I hope you will pardon me."
"That's okay," Dick replied as he leaned against the main console. "I just figured a socially-deprived loser like you would be interested in hearing about someone who is actively looking for somebody to talk to. Give you a bit of inspiration."
That comment finally got Noah to turn away from his monitor. "I never considered you to be such a sacrificial soul."
"Well, I am a giver," Nightwing pointed out as he turned his attention to the screen. "And just what happens to be drawing your attention?"
"I am reexamining the security footage of The Joker's containment cell at Arkham on the day that he and Harleen Quinzel escaped. Bruce instructed me to give it another once over and, truth be told, I must admit that I find this particular mystery to be quite intriguing."
"Doesn't sound too fascinating to me," Dick said as he pulled up a chair. "That murderer's gotten out of the nuthouse more times than I feel comfortable counting."
"So. . . five then?"
Dick expressed to Noah how he felt about that half-hearted inquiry with the help of his middle finger.
Noah took no offense and turned his attention back toward the security footage. "Normally I would agree with you. However, the security protocols installed by Waynetech and Tenryu Enterprises should have made The Joker's escape an almost impossibility."
"And just what, pray tell, do these advances include?"
"Well, it was quite the inspired renovation. In fact, Arkham has quite possibly become the most technologically advanced containment facility known by the general public. However, the specific measure that is currently in suspicion is the installment of motion sensors within all high-level containment facilities."
"I see," Dick replied with a nod. "And The Joker was placed in one of these rooms?"
"Of course."
"And those sensors were tripped?"
"Indeed they were," Noah replied. "However, the surveillance footage, which had not been manipulated and remained active throughout the incident, clearly indicates that no one either entered or left the room."
"So what are we thinking here?" Dick asked as he scooted his chair forward, his countenance a clear indication that he had grown interested. "Transmat portal? Matter displacement? Invisibility? Individual teleportation?"
Noah shook his head. "I considered invisibility but that wouldn't explain why the door doesn't appear to move either. Any of the other examples would have left some kind of energy signature or physical scarring within the cell." He began tapping at the keyboard, his latest command causing hundreds of images to appear on the main monitor and the monitors surrounding it. "Both Lloyd and Stephanie spent two hours searching that cell and found nothing."
"I'm sure the sprout loved that investigation," Dick guessed as he shifted his eyes from picture to picture.
"Actually, she insisted upon being allowed to listen to music while she conducted her investigation."
"But of course. However, that does not explain why I'm now looking at several hundred pictures that look exactly the same?"
"Mister Grayson, we are looking at the sum footage of the last one-thousandth of a second that The Joker spent within that cell. I have divided it into 500 separate units in the hopes of finding any kind of discrepancy."
"And they couldn't do this at Arkham?" Dick asked as he moved closer to one of the side monitors.
"Not with their equipment," Noah replied as he chose his own side monitor to peruse. "However, I've got a bit of a technological leg up."
Dick nodded and went to work.
Bath, England
Not even the pungent smell of the steam engine could detract from the pleasure Lloyd felt as he embraced the sights and smells of the English countryside. He had spent so long inhaling the busy, occupied air of Gotham and Hong Kong that the scent of sun-dappled grass was almost a surprise to the senses. Even with the import of his task at hand and the uncertainty that came with what he had to do, the sights and smells still managed to soothe his nerves if only for a bit.
It had been his idea to travel the last leg of the journey by train. It was no trouble to teleport into London due to the many metahuman hotspots that could be found in the nation's capital. However, in order to get to where he needed to be, particularly if he wanted to avoid the attention of others, he knew he would have to employ a subtler method of teleportation. The fact that he had yearned to travel on a steamer train for years now was all that Lloyd required to figure out just what means of transportation he would employ.
Neither Mao nor Scandal could ever quite understand his desire to get away from the hustle and bustle that had surrounded them for decades. In their defense, the both of them had always been comfortable with the coexisting glare and solitude of life in an urban metropolis. It was where they were comfortable. Neither one of them had that ever-present, festering yearning to distance themselves away from the noise and the havoc as he did.
Unencumbered by the need to fiddle with the luggage carts, Lloyd slipped both of his hands in the pockets of his jeans, strolled off the platform with a lazy amble, and began to make his way out of the railway station. No one paid him any mind as he swerved and twisted his way through the bustle and crowd. In fact, his journey would have been completely unencumbered were it not for a young lady, who was no older than five and heedless of the obstructions in front of her, who crashed into his legs as she dashed through the central corridor.
Lloyd used a hint of his speed to ease the girl before she fell on her back and bum. "Woah there, li'l bit," he warned in an amiable fashion. "Want to watch where you're going there, yeah?"
"I'm sorry, mister," the girl replied with a distinct American lilt.
"Thas all right. Still, you shouldn't be runnin' about a crowded place like this. Give your mum and dad quite a fright."
The young lady nodded as Lloyd's words proved correct. A young couple was coming their way, their arms encumbered with hastily gathered luggage. Lloyd was momentarily cautious, well-aware of how an anxious parent may respond to seeing their recently lost child talking to a stranger. Choosing to go the safer route, Lloyd knelt down and showed the little girl where her parents were before sending her on her way. Mother, father, and daughter were reunited several steps later, momentary fear and anxiousness giving way to utter relief.
"Oh, thank goodness," the mother exclaimed as she wrapped her daughter up in her arms. The older woman then looked at him with watery, blue eyes. "Thank you very much, young man. She just took off and. . ."
"No problem at all, ma'am. Happy I could help." Lloyd took a moment to watch over the happy reunion, quietly wondering when the daughter would receive her well-deserved reprimand. "Something tells me the lot of you aren't from around here?"
"Oh, yes," the father replied. He was a thin fellow with messy, jet-black hair and looked to be just started on the road to recovery from a very stressful event. The older man seemed to be determined to shake his hand but was so wrapped up in his luggage that he couldn't work a limb free. "We were supposed to meet a friend of mine here at the station but he's running a little late. We're going to Bristol in a couple days to see Elvis Costello."
"Bugger all," Lloyd said honestly. "Didn't have any idea he was playin' 'ere. I'm quite the fan myself."
"Oh, he's wonderful," the mother spoke up, her daughter now safely scooped up into her arms. "Unlike this little rascal, who's going to get a firm talking to about running off where we can't see her."
The daughter began to whine and pout, although the girl's relief of being back with her loving family seemed to take a lot of the vim out of it. Lloyd chuckled at the little exchange while, out of the corner of his eye, he could see a woman with bushy, brown hair and a very familiar smile observing the happy reunion as well.
"Well, I should probably be on my way," Lloyd announced as he kept his eyes on the interloper. "Afraid I've got pressing matters to attend to."
The father finally managed to work himself free from his suitcases and gave Lloyd a surprisingly hearty handshake. "All right, you take care, sir. Thank you so very much."
Lloyd almost had to tear himself free from all the gratefulness sent his way as he made his way towards the unruffled interloper. The young woman did not even bother to hide the fact that she had been staring right at him and, when he drew closer, primly crossed her right leg over her left and looked up at her with a look of supposed absolute innocence.
"All right. And who are you supposed to be?" Lloyd asked.
The young woman ran a hand through her shaggy locks. "Well, I'm supposed to be Hermione Granger. Noah gave me the idea when he let me borrow the image inducer and Stephanie thought it would be funny."
"Hated that last bloody book," Lloyd said with a grumble. "And I thought I told Batman that I didn't need any back-up on this."
"Then it looks like he didn't listen," Kara pointed out. "Imagine that."
"Well, if you're gonna tag along then at least pretend you're somebody more presentable."
"Wellllllllllll. How about Black Canary?" Kara asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
Lloyd gave a weary roll of his eyes and walked away with a huff. "That's the last bloody time I tell Stephanie anything."
Kara giggled as she stood up from the bench she had been sitting on and jogged after her sulky partner. Of course, she couldn't help but notice that, when she caught up with him, he made no attempts to try and break away from her.
It had taken four hours, three full run-throughs and two very uncomfortable bouts with eye strain before Dick and Noah found what they were looking for. It was in shot number 372, a picture taken at 7:13 in the evening during the two-hundred fifty eight thousand seven-hundred and forty second five-hundred thousandth of the 23rd second.
It was hard to believe that they didn't see it sooner.
It started out as nothing but a barely perceptible yellow blur, a perfectly reasonable circumstance given the time frame that the camera had been operating upon. Fortunately, Noah's visual clarification technology allowed the both of them the opportunity to get a better look. Unfortunately, the effort involved in doing so transformed into a phenomenally exhausting game of trial and error that ultimately became a bizarre game where Noah would adjust one frequency or another while Dick would reply whether or not it had made the image "better" or "worse". Thankfully, when Alfred came down the steps to freshen their beverages, he did not ask them if they were attempting to pirate pornography.
Finally, long after the both of them had teetered and fallen off the bridge of frustration; the two of them had found what they were looking for. The color of the blur had already been a significant clue but it wasn't until they had seen the red lightning bolts on the man's mask and the scarlet flame in the man's eyes that the two of them were able to remove all doubt.
"Mister Grayson," Noah announced with bubbling excitement. "I give you Hunter Zolomon. Also known, at least to your former colleagues who would have never been able to figure out this mystery, as Zoom or the third Reverse Flash."
The acrobat gave the picture a nod as he struggled against his own enthusiasm. It didn't take long at all for him to surrender to it. He let out a whoop of triumph and, before Noah could even try to stop him, grabbed the sides of the hacker's head and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Well, I supposed I should be pleased by your reaction," Noah assessed as he hastily brought his ever-present handkerchief up to the offended cheek in order to wipe off any trace of residue. "I do hope that you responded to Miss Gordon's efforts with similarly disturbing displays of enthusiasm."
"Yeah, but her cheeks were always cold," Dick replied as he rapped Noah about the shoulders. "All right then. Go ahead, get on the horn, and tell Batman and the sprout," he requested as he made his way toward the vehicle bay. "All this sitting and watching's made me hungry for patrollin'. I don't know how you stay down here all this time just sitting on your rump."
"The better to avoid your lips, my dear," Calculator replied stiffly.
No one noticed Hunter Zolomon as he ran through Moscow, Vienna, Athens, and Paris. His sprint across the Atlantic Ocean was undisturbed and now, as he maneuvered through the wilds of the Brazilian rain forest, even the thick air seemed to pass over him without the slightest whit of attention.
There was a reason behind all of this. His ability to alter time around him, to travel thousands of miles before anyone could bat an eye, allowed him a unique kind of secrecy and solitude. As a matter of fact, he was one of the few people on this planet who could, if he chose to do so, go through his entire life without having to be seen by anyone. No one was more aware of this than he and there had been many instances where the former F.B.I. agent had contemplated such an existence.
However, as fast as he went and as slow as the other people around him seemed to be, he could never outrace his thoughts.
He thought what he did at Metropolis would have made everything crystal clear. His astonishing revelation, born upon a raging battlefield where two powerful armies fought in order to solidify their own destinies, was designed to give his long-conflicted mind some necessary peace.
He had long since grown weary of life's complexities; the questions. How could a spawn of a murdering monster be able to bring anything good into this world? Why had he been paralyzed just because he wanted to do what was right? Why was he dragged back to this painful existence after he had been certain that he had escaped from it?
Hero. Villain. Good guy. Bad guy. Teacher. Absolute monster. He had been given all these labels and he was so tired of trying to separate them. He only wanted a simple answer.
And he knew that this was how he would get it.
His target was almost a half-mile away, the young man enmeshed in a struggle with some bizarre mutant monstrosity that wasn't even worth mentioning. Heroes and villains were fighting and dying all around him, his unique abilities allowing him to see it all if he chose to do so. He would have considered it to be an awe-inspiring scene, quite worthy of being called a "crisis", as so many news sources would later label it, but he currently had a more important matter on his mind. He crossed the distance before most of his fellow participants could blink an eye. His focus, confidence, and desire for serenity easily overwhelmed the bizarre allure of the battle around him as if the young man was singing a siren's song.
Bart Allen didn't see him coming. However, his young teammates could see the splash of blood, the gaping laceration across their friend's throat, and the tear in the boy's neck that was far too deep to possibly heal from. Cassandra Sandsmark gave off a terrible shriek so he shut her up with a fist to the jaw. He continued to wreak havoc, breaking Mia Dearden's arm and knocking Baron Blood's head clean off his shoulders before he was found by the man he had been looking to summon with his reprehensible deed.
He couldn't pay attention to what The Flash was saying the first two times they had circumnavigated the planet (although it was safe to say that the words were hardly pleasant). He was far too enmeshed within the clarity of what he had done. There was no more confusion over what he had become anymore, no way he could be redeemed. The lingering doubts that had flooded his cerebrum since his trip through the time stream were finally fading away.
It all made sense.
The firm grip that Wally West had upon him had negated his ability to manipulate time. They were caught within the same web, like so many times before, but now it was clear that the scarlet speedster was at the wheel. A small part of his splintered mind felt a flash of hope within the dire circumstance. This tragedy would make the man he had come to admire a better hero. Whether Wally chose to kill him or not, he knew that the young man had the strength to endure this tragedy and grow from it, just as he had so many times before.
Yes, Hunter Zolomon could quite honestly say that it was perhaps the most satisfying moment in his life. Now, however, the confusion was once again threatening to overwhelm him. His many months trapped within the Speed Force did not give him the solace and peace that he had hoped it would bring. He could only pray that his alliance with. . .
Zoom felt his legs incomprehensibly give out from under him. He had been so wrapped within his own thoughts that he was not capable of even conceiving the thought of being ambushed. However, given the fact that he was currently hovering several feet above the ground, his ankles bound together by a rope of emerald energy, it was quite obvious that he was.
"Yeeeeeehaw!" Robin exclaimed as she lowered herself closer to the ground, a green, spectral cowboy hat perched upon her head, "I just lassoed me up a mustard-colored asshole! YEEEEEEHAWWWWWWW!"
He found no reason to be impressed with the young woman's theatrics.
"Unhand me before I rip off your limbs."
"Now, now. Ain't no need fer all that." Robin warned with her faux-Western accent. "I just wanted to ask ya some questions. Now some colorful fella named The Joker broke out of the pokey a few weeks back and someone up yonder just tol' me that you had somethin' to do with it. Since I've got ya all trussed up I don't suppose you have anything to tell me about that, do ya?"
He continued to fix the young woman with a vicious stare. As he did so, his chocolate-brown eyes turned blood red.
"No, I don't."
He brought his full abilities to bear, accelerating every molecule of his body until he became intangible. Slipping free from the young woman's grasp, he used his phenomenal leg strength to twist his body and land safely on his feet. The maneuver clearly surprised Robin, thus allowing him to swoop in and hammer away, landing blows to the head, neck, shoulders, legs, and arms. Several dozen uncontested blows made their mark before Zoom swung his left hand towards the girl's throat.
And missed horribly.
"Ever heard of the rope-a-dope?" Robin asked without a trace of cowgirl. "Guess who's the dope?"
She kneed him in the ribs and it felt as if his body was on fire. The proceeding hooks to the head only served to fan the flames and the kick to the side of the neck left him in absolute agony. Although his accelerated metabolism would steer him towards a speedy recovery, the confident smirk on the young woman's face was a clear indication of who had come out the victor in that particular exchange.
"You think all this ring's good for is a bunch of pretty drawings, Zoomie? Naw, this little bauble is all about allowing me to manipulate energy sources. Y'know, like that wellspring of kinetic energy that you use to make yourself go fast and everybody around you go slow? Still, even though you don't have a chance in hell, feel free to try to run away or hit me again. Something tells me that I would really enjoy breaking your bones."
Hunter Zolomon rose to his feet, now fully recovered.
And then he was gone.
He didn't try to run away. He didn't try and hit her. He was just gone.
"Oooooooookay," Robin said. "Could somebody explain to me what the hell was that? And I thought that your files said he couldn't do that vibraty thing!"
"He teleported, Robin," Noah replied. "And I apologize for the lack of information but I was unaware that he was capable of, well, the vibraty thing."
"That doesn't make any sense, C.C.! I was tracing his speed signature with my ring and now I'm not reading him anywhere. How about you? Can you see where he went?"
"He's evaded my sensors as well."
"But that's impossible," Stephanie repeated. "You can't just make a jaunt like that unless you. . ."
Stephanie stopped her chatting in its tracks, a suspicion beginning to form in her head.
"Robin, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Noah asked.
"Yes, C.C., but who wants to see 'Snow White and The Seven Samurai'?"
"Yes, but, WHAT?!?" Noah spat out, simply incapable of hopping on Stephanie's train of thought.
"Ease your neurons, answer man. I know what you're talkin' about. Grey Poupon Pants has ferreted his way off into The Speed Force. And, since we know where he's run off too, that, of course, leads to just one question."
"Which is?" Noah asked, quite pleased that his young associate was truly on his wavelength.
"HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO FOLLOW HIM THERE!!"
Kara and Lloyd strolled through the streets of Bath in companionable silence, momentarily satisfied to be caught up in the quiet swirling around them. A small gaggle of youths were merrily rushing down the alleyway from the opposite direction, each of them caught up in the merriment that can only come from being away from lessons and teachers and responsibilities. The two of them had to weave their way around them, easily avoiding any possible collision.
A hint of laughter drew Lloyd's eyes to Kara's face. There was a peaceful twinkle in her crystalline, blue eyes that mixed with flushed cheeks and an unguarded smile that forced him to hold his stare. Kara, in return, looked up to see the warm look in Lloyd's eyes and couldn't help her blush grow a little bit deeper. It could have been construed as an awkward silence but the both of them seemed comfortable with taking a moment to recover themselves.
"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your friend," Kara said softly. "I acted like an idiot."
"That's all right," Lloyd replied with equal gentility. "I feel just as bad for not making everything clear."
"No. No, that's okay." It dawned upon the both of them that they were trying to out-apologize each other but Kara felt the need to keep going. "It had been a long day. You had your back broken, for crying out loud."
"Yeah, I did. Still, I had quite the charming lady at my bedside, even if she did manage to liquefy everything around me."
Kara gave off another pretty blush that Lloyd couldn't help but smile at. Seeking to compose herself, the young woman turned away and immersed herself into the air of the town. "I really like it here. It's so quiet and peaceful. It's just so. . . different from Gotham."
"You tellin' me the big city's startin' to lose its luster?"
"It's not really that," Kara replied as she twisted her neck to and fro. "I usually like the noise. There's just this small part of me that can't stand it, like there's this little part of me that starts getting fussy when it's not allowed to just sit down and think for a bit." She paused, quirking the left side of her lip as she reviewed her words. "Okay, that sounded phenomenally weird, didn't it?"
Lloyd thought about it for a moment. "I think I can see what you mean."
Kara wasn't quite certain what to think of Lloyd's response. An answer like that certainly didn't seem like it needed a lot of pondering. However, she was determined to enjoy herself if only for the moment so she chose to just let it slide. "So you mean to tell me that this is the place that we're supposed to find what we're looking for? This nice little tourist trap?"
Lloyd took another sharp right into another alleyway, turning around to look at Kara as he came out of the turn. "You'd be surprised with what you can find in me homeland, pet."
They continued weaving their way through the narrow, cobblestone alleyways until they came upon an aged, red-brick building whose structure had become brown and worn with the constant rain and the passing of time. A raucous recording of an Irish jig was blasting out of the establishment despite the fact that it was still relatively early in the evening and the volume would doubtlessly irritate the inhabitants of the surrounding buildings. Lloyd momentarily chuckled as a coarse, West London bark broke out over the already riotous din ordering one of the other patrons to shut the hole in their face.
"Kara Zor-el, I welcome you to The Rusty Sambo."
Kara didn't seem the least bit impressed. "Looks like just another bar to me."
She turned to Lloyd to see if she could get a better explanation only to discover that his eyes were now a smoky gray. Although she knew it was his standard countenance when he was working with magic, she couldn't help but be taken aback if only for a moment. However, she didn't wrench away as he placed his left hand around her eyes and forehead and felt a spark of energy course through her pupils. She discovered that she had shut her eyes as the energy streamed around her skull, although she couldn't say for certain whether that was because of the magic or the feeling of Lloyd's fingers caressing her temples.
"What's it look like to you now?" Lloyd asked with a bit of huskiness in his voice.
Kara opened her eyes and found she had to take another step backward. The Rusty Sambo, which her x-ray vision had formerly deduced to be just a standard, run-of-the-mill drinking establishment, was now revealed to be a lively pub populated by creatures of all shapes, sizes, colors, and places of origin. She couldn't even begin to identify them all. There was what appeared to be a fairy speaking with a puce-colored demon with spiked horns in the southwest corner of the bar while, at the main counter, a weedy-looking human appeared to be making a fairly seedy offer to a green female with an impressive set of jaws.
There's no need to go into the details of said offer, suffice it to say that it was yet another occasion when Kara truly wished she had better control over her super-sensitive hearing.
Lloyd made his way into the tavern without a word. Swinging the front door open with an easy motion, the rusty hinges gave off a bit of a whine as he took the first step in. Holding the door in place, he politely allowed Kara to come in before him just as Scandal had taught him to do when he was in the presence of a lady.
Their entrance went unheeded by everyone save the fellow tending the bar. He was a squat, portly fellow with round blue eyes and spiky, blonde hair. It was rather obvious, given his bulky frame, that he was once quite muscular but the passing of several decades gave a chance for fat to sink in and mix with the sturdy sinew. The upturned lines around the jaw and lips clearly indicated that the thick, squat face was more used to smiling than frowning but the current look on the fellow's face was a clear indication that he was quite comfortable with either.
"'M dealin' with a crowded 'ouse, guv," the man told Lloyd as he set down the glass tankard he had been polishing. "Don't suppose we could save this fer later?"
Lloyd strode up the bar and calmly slumped his arms across the countertop. "'Fraid not, mate. This matter's most pressin'."
Misfits Confidential
I've got a question. Why is this chapter so long? Hardly anything happened in it! I've got another question! Why am I badmouthing my own writing? Shouldn't I be hyping it up? Ah jeez, that was another question!
On a more serious note, I couldn't help but notice that I've gotten a lot more readers since the good people at Fanfiction Worth Reading deemed The Misfits to be, well, fanfiction worth reading. Because of this, I'd like to extend my thanks to the good people there and I extend the invitation to anybody else who'd like to post my story on this site or somewhere else. I'm not about to deny that I'm an unrepentant whore for attention. I accept that part of me. Speaking of which, feel free to tell me what you're thinking and how I can improve this story. I love to hear from you guys and gals!
Issue #46 Preview
Our favorite rabid little Robin wants a piece of Hunter Zolomon's ass but she needs to find The Speed Force to get it. Of course, who the hell knows how to get there? I'll give you a hint: he's moody, he dresses in a lot of blue and black, and he's macked on two gorgeous, mildly disturbed women in the past two chapters. And what is the mystery behind the proprietor of The Rusty Sambo? Find out about this and more in the next installment of The Misfits: Teachers and Students. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!
