Issue #46

Teachers and Students

Despite her many suspicions and guesses centered upon the person that she and Lloyd would eventually meet in their search through the tiny tourist trap, Kara never would have expected that the man in front of them would be the answer to those many lingering questions.

The man was nearly three-hundred and fifty pounds of fat, mass, and muscle but he couldn't have been an inch over five feet tall. The seemingly impossible physique was further put on display by a brown, moleskin vest and a complete lack of undershirt that revealed a phenomenally unpleasant amount of hairy, girthy torso. He wore a pair of blue jeans despite the fact that it did not seem possible that such a garment could possibly contain the tree trunks cleverly masquerading as the man's legs. Add all this with a jagged, wicked scar that ran down the right side of the man's face and a bizarre tuft of spiky, blonde hair that looked more like a helmet than actual hair and you had a man that Kara could not quite work up the nerve to speak to until he had stepped in front of her and extended a bulky hand.

"'Ello, poppet," the man said with a thick British brogue that put Lloyd's own lazy drawl to shame. "The name's Nigel Thornton."

Kara managed to work up the courage to respond to the gesture once she was able to determine that the man was not going to try and eat her. "Um, you. . . don't look like. . . a Nigel."

"Well, ya don't look like a Kara but you don't 'ear me whingin'," Nigel replied rather flatly. Kara was obviously surprised that the man had known her name but he was already on the move before she could form the question. "Come now, Zor-el. No room for shock and bewonderment. Take a seat then. You too, guv."

Kara's momentary distraction, caused by her wondering whether or not bewonderment was, in fact, a word, allowed Nigel to essentially shovel her towards one of the booths in the back corner of the bar without a hint of resistance. She noticed Lloyd ambling behind them just a couple steps behind, a languid smile on his face for reasons she couldn't quite figure out. She ultimately regained her bearings just in time to seat herself into the left side of the booth before the portly fellow felt compelled to throw her in. Nigel quickly took the right booth, the wooden supports whining audibly as he plopped himself down right in the middle.

"So how do you know Lloyd?" Kara asked as Lloyd calmly slipped down next to her.

"I used to work for Mister Mao a long while back." Nigel scratched the right side of his head with his stubby fingers. "Known the guv for going on 'bout seven years now. In fact, you could say that I was the firs' bloke who showed 'im how to scrap."

Kara showed her interest in her widened eyes as Lloyd gave off an exasperated grumble.

"Ya should 'ave seen the guv when I first met 'im, poppet," Nigel went on. "Nothin' but skin and bone, he was. An 'ole lot's changed since then but, just between you, me, an' tha wall, the boy could still do with puttin' some pounds on 'im."

Nigel turned his attention to Lloyd, who was busy wondering if he was "tha wall" that his former teacher had recently referred to. "Wot you tip the scale at these days, guv? 'Bout seven stone?"

The narrow glare that Lloyd gave to Nigel would have scared nearly any metahuman criminal out of their soiled drawers. "I weigh 80 kilograms, you sodding schoolmarm. And you're the last bloody West London sot that needs to be goin' on about proper dieting."

Nigel responded with a round of boisterous laughter that caused ripples of fat to cascade down his round face. His merriment was bolstered by a quieter round of chuckles from Kara but even that pleasing sound wasn't enough to convince Lloyd to join in.

"We're here about The Mind's Eye, old man," Lloyd said over the mirth of the others at the table.

To his credit, it didn't take long at all for the grizzled war veteran to return his attention to the task at hand. His eyes narrowed to slits and his cheery smile twisted into an even grimace. "Come on now, guv. Ya know who's behind all this. Why bother comin' to me about it?"

Even though he was the one who caused it, Lloyd was perturbed by how quickly his former teacher's mood turned south. However, he wouldn't allow that to stop him. "Because I need somebody who he might be willing to talk to. I need you to help me put a stop to this before it gets out of control."

Nigel slowly shook his head back and forth, a weary sigh emerging from his lips. "Ya still actin' as if 'e's innocent in all this, guv." Lloyd was already ready with a retort but the older man spoke right through it. "He doesn't need handlin', mate. He needs to be put down."

"Put down?!" Lloyd interrupted. "What is he, a soddin' rabid pup?!"

"No, but he'll kill you like one."

"He's my friend!" Lloyd fired back with an angry shout.

Nigel was far calmer. "Lloyd, a bloke like him only has two places for people in this world: he either needs him or he doesn't. Now I may not have my ear to the ground as much as I used to but everything I've heard says that 'e's runnin' out of tha former in a hurry an' that's when the bodies of the latters start washin' up in The Thames. Unless you figure out where you stand then he's gonna keep usin' ya to get what he wants and then he'll get rid of ya just 'cause you aren't ready to do the same to 'im."

Kara kept her eyes on Lloyd as her friend slumped into the booth they were sharing. She had never heard Lloyd lose control of himself to the degree that she had just witnessed, not even during that night when they were on the hunt for Zsasz, and it frightened her. A strong part of her wanted to do what she could to comfort him but another part kept reminding her that she could embarrass him, embarrass herself.

"I can't believe that, Nigel," Lloyd's voice was absolutely hollow. "You know I can't."

"Yeah, Lloyd. I know." Nigel sat back as the three occupants of the booth dipped into a swift, pronounced silence. "All right, it's bleedin' official. We all deserve a pint. Ya drink Guinness, poppet?"

"Oh," Kara piped up. "Yeah, that's fine. I'll have some."

Kara and Lloyd remained quiet as mice while Nigel made his way behind the counter to fetch two bottles of beer and a decanter of whiskey. He moved back to the booth with a hasty gait that belied his bulky frame and slid the two bottles across the table before twisting open his own carafe and sitting back down. Lloyd immediately went to nursing his newfound beverage while Kara momentarily pondered over the moral ramifications of a minor consuming an alcoholic beverage. Ultimately, she decided that she needed the relief, realized that she'd be quite the hypocrite if she started thinking that something like this would tip the karmic scales, and took a sip.

"So you at least have an idea on where the wanker could be?" Nigel asked before gunning down another double shot of the amber liquid.

"I've got a bloody good idea where to start lookin'," Lloyd replied.

"I figured as much. There's no way he wouldn't think you would go there, ya know? You and ya little sheila could be runnin' right into a trap."

"Well, if we're gonna run into a trap then we might as well spring it on familiar ground. Besides, that place has been left covered for far too long."

Nigel raised a bemused eyebrow as he hefted his bottle halfway between the table and his lips. "Ya sayin' we like I've already consented to go with ya. Ya know I've got a packed 'ouse that isn't lookin' to be settlin' down 'til the wee hours."

"An' you're actin' as if Rosie can't 'andle things like she does every bloody night whether you're 'ere or not," Lloyd fired back with an upraised eyebrow of his own. "Don't tell me you're not up for a spot of violence, old man."

The decanter of whiskey lost another bit of its precious contents as Nigel raised it to his lips once again. He set down the glass with a thunk onto the table. "Always did know how to charm me, guv. Have to tell ya I got one condition though."

"Which is?"

"We've got a couple of 'ours 'til I'll be ready to scarper so I want you to go see ya mum."

Lloyd slumped back down to his beer bottle again. "Nigel. Please. . ."

"Also want no complainin' 'ere. This isn't an average Sunday jaunt we're goin' on and I like to have all the karma I can get me hands on."

"Come on, old man. I've already got to travel back to D.C. just so we can get to where we're goin' without having every law enforcement agency in two countries on our arses."

"Yeah, an' that's a trip you can 'andle in wot? Five minutes?"

The Black Dog gave off a weary sigh worthy of any petulant child. "All right, old man. I'm going."

He took another sip from his beer before standing up from his seat.

Kara began to scoot out as well, her half-empty bottle quickly forgotten. "Do you want me to go with you?"

Lloyd's frown came perilously close to turning into a smile. "Yeah, but this is somethin' that'd be a hell of a lot easier to do if I'm on me lonesome."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, unfortunately. Don't worry though. Ya can rest your laurels here and chew the fat with the ol' man. If you want somethin' to eat then you're probably best off by stayin' away from the British items on the menu."

"What happened to supporting your country?" Kara asked cheerily.

"National unity doesn't extend to the cuisine. Oh, and don't drink anything green."

"Thank you for your recommendations."

Now Lloyd was smiling. "I know I was pretty testy back at the station but I'm happy you followed me 'ere. Ya didn't have to do it."

"I wanted to."

Nigel watched the goings on as Kara and Lloyd continued on their unnecessarily long goodbye. As he did so, he couldn't help but remember all the other times the long-limbed moppet would come to The Brain Sambo and stumble over his words whenever he spoke with some bonny lass that caught his eye. Yeah, the guv still had some lessons to learn, judging from all the shyness that was going on before him, but he still couldn't help but feel a bit of pride.


Gotham

"Still feeling okay?"

"No! I am not okay! Do I look like I'm okay because I feel that I am presently a great distance away from okay! YOOOOOOWWWW!! Fuck!"

Doctor Leslie Thompkins shook her head but continued to keep the bulk of her attention focused upon the task at hand. "I don't remember your former associates being this. . . vocal when I was patching them up, Bruce."

Mister Wayne, who happened to be calmly sitting across from the operating table, maintained his poker face despite the temptation to break it. "You've been telling me for years to meet new people, Leslie. Are you saying that you're not impressed with my choices?"

Cecilia gave off a frustrated growl. "I can't believe the two of you are bantering. Stop bantering! I've got a gaping hole in my shoulder and I don't the need to watch the the two of you having an International Coffee moment."

"I would have thought that was a little before your time, young lady."

"I watch a lot of Nick at Nite! Sue me!" the archer bit back.

"Miss King-Jones, I'll take a guess and say that this is the first time that you've been shot."

"Yes, Doc, it is," Cissie replied with a grunt. "Unlike my supervisor, I try to avoid situations where I might acquire unnecessary scarring."

"Are you saying that I'm a glutton for punishment?" Bruce asked with a smirk.

"I didn't say that," the archer replied rather calmly given the circumstances. "I just said that you've allowed your body to be mutilated to the point where no woman with an ounce of sanity would possibly want to be with you. OWWWWWWW!"

Bruce gave off a wince. "And karma strikes again."

The sound of a bullet landing upon a silver tray echoed through the room.

"Steph was right!" Cecilia raged. "You get off on inflicting pain, don't you?"

The aged doctor placed the tray that held the bullet onto another table before starting to remove her sanitary gloves. "Allow me to tell you a story that ought to cheer you up, Cecilia. I remember a young man who once came into my office hobbling like mad and bawling like a banshee. Every time I asked him what happened he just continued to say how much agony he was in and how he wouldn't be able to make it to school tomorrow and that he may very well need a wheelchair. It took well over ten minutes just to calm him down before I could even begin to find out what's wrong and I don't believe I have since run into someone who had raised such a fuss."

Leslie turned her attention towards Bruce.

"Just what was my diagnosis for that case? I can't seem to remember."

The look on Bruce's face was considerably sourer than it had been just a few moments before.

"It was a sprained knee and I would appreciate it if you occasionally tried to maintain doctor-patient confidentiality."

Leslie opened up a cabinet and removed a sizeable portion of gauge and bandages. "And yet you insist on barging into my quarters to observe other people's operations."

Cissie was already giggling. "Thanks for that, doc. It does my heart good to know that my boss does, in fact, have the capacity to whine."

"Just consider it my way of helping you towards your first step towards rehabilitation," Leslie replied while a chime originated from both Bruce's and Cissie's communicators. "Now hold still while I dress this."

Seeing as how he was unencumbered, Bruce removed the communicator from his belt and answered the call. "Robin. Have you gotten back to Gotham?"

"Indeedily doodily, B-man. C.C. told me you and Cissers went to Leslie's. Are you still there?"

"Indeed we are. Feel free to join us if you wish."

"Well, I can't guarantee if I'll be able to get there for a while," Stephanie exclaimed as Bruce moved towards the door separating the operating room from the general quarters. "My little scrap with Zoom took a lot out of me and I don't think I'll be able to. . ."

Gotham's greatest detective opened the door in order to catch Stephanie hiding behind one of the waiting tables. To, or perhaps against her credit, the diminutive Green Lantern did not look the least bit sheepish about her deception.

"That trick is going to work someday," Stephanie said without a hint of shame as she flounced past Bruce and entered the operating room. "Mark my words."

"Hola, hermana," greeted Cissie.

"Hey, sharpshooter! Now how's about telling me how you acquired that lovely perforation so I can remember who's ass I have to kick after I get done with Zoomie Zoom Zoom."

"No need, Tweety," Cissie replied as Leslie finished wrapping her wound in gauze. "Mr. Dent is already resting fitfully in the Blackgate medical wing. You can thank the studly brooding guy in the corner for that one."

"I considered it more of a joint effort," Bruce retorted with his customary half-smirk. "Speaking of which, I'm told your efforts against Zoom were decidedly less successful than you anticipated."

"That's only because the little turd pulled a rabbit out of his stupid yellow tights," Stephanie growled as she hefted herself onto a nearby side table.

"You also managed to miss your assigned shift," Leslie added as she went about cleaning Cecilia's wound. "Clarissa was looking for someone to help her tidy up the paperwork."

"I've got a legitimate excuse," Stephanie replied while looking genuinely apologetic. "I was kinda chasing a wanted criminal around the world and he could run really fast."

"It's all right, Stephanie," Leslie calmly replied. "There hasn't been a Robin yet that has been well-regarded for their punctuality."

"And I may be just as much to blame as you are for Zoom's escape," Bruce admitted. "There aren't any documented cases of Hunter Zolomon being able to hyperaccelerate his molecular movement, seeing as how he didn't receive his powers from being subjected to The Speed Force, but that doesn't mean he wasn't capable of doing so."

"Hyperaccelerate his molecular movement?" Cissie asked.

"The vibratey thing," Stephanie clarified.

"He did the vibratey thing?"

"Also, neither J'onn or myself have been able to gather a great deal of salient information in regards to the whereabouts of Zolomon or Wally West after the battle in Metropolis," Bruce explained while wisely shoving aside what could have been a laughably inappropriate topic of conversation. "We had presumed that The Flash had taken Zoom to The Speed Force but Jay Garrick's sudden inability to access that alternate dimension left us incapable of exploring that hypothesis. We even floated the possibility that Wally's outburst had eliminated the pocket altogether."

"Well, that's obviously not the case, B," Stephanie said as she slid off her impromptu seat. "There has to be some kind of way for us to get over there and chase him down. Maybe Lloyd can get a hold of an energy signature and work his way from there!"

"Every bit of data I've managed to gather in reference to tells me that The Speed Force can only be accessed through a massive output of concentrated kinetic energy. A feat like that is out of Lloyd's capabilities."

Cissie grumbled as she watched Doctor Thompkins wrap a bandage around her wound. "Well, boss. Thanks for a wonderful recap on all that's stopping us from cracking this case."

"Thankfully," Bruce interrupted, "another person, who just happens to be in this room, may be capable of pulling it off with the aid of the proper equipment."

"I officially need to learn how to stop talking," the wounded archer proclaimed as she slumped down onto the medical bench.

"And I'm guessing that the person you're referring to is about five-foot-six, wears an exceedingly stylish and functional costume, and can serve as her own night light?" Stephanie asked.

"You guessed correctly," Bruce replied.

"I'm going too," Cissie announced as she stood up from her seat now adorned with Leslie's completed bandaging.

"This is a two-person mission, Arrowette," Bruce said in his strictest "Batman voice". "You are officially on the shelf as of ninety minutes ago. Stephanie's going to take you back to Wayne Manor and you're going to get some much deserved rest."

"I don't want any rest," the archer replied angrily. "I want to pay this asshole back for killing my friend."

"And I'm not going to get you killed because I allowed you to go after him when you're not at 100 percent." Bruce's tone was stern but still offered a bit of leeway for sympathy. "You've already done your share today but now I need you to trust us to take care of things, Cecilia.

Cecilia gave off a momentary pout but ultimately acquiesced to reason. She turned to Stephanie, who was more than willing to help her in the task of putting on a fresh shirt. "I want a souvenir from The Speed Force gift shop," she sternly declared as she tenderly slid her right arm through the sweater she had been wearing before all the nonsense with Two-Face. "I'm thinking something along the lines of a Max Mercury plush doll."

"Just so long as it's in my price range," Stephanie said with a smile before turning to her other boss. "How about it, Doc? Is the sharpshooter safe for transport?"

"Go right ahead, Robin," Leslie approved. "I just need a moment or two with your boss."

Bruce remained still while Cissie gave a brief thank you before being hustled out by her energetic compatriot. He did his best to tune out the chatter between the two young women, choosing to place his emotional stores in mirroring the placid look that his closest equivalent of a mother figure had presented him with. The sound of the door closing was decidedly loud and the echo resonated through the several seconds of silence that elapsed between the girls' exit and this inevitability.

"Thank you for patching up Cecilia," he began.

"Thank you for giving her an open ear," the old woman countered. "It's safe to say that was the softest kick in the butt I've ever seen you give to someone."

"Several of my associates have put it upon me to improve my bedside manner," Bruce explained. "After all, I find that turning away potentially valuable associates simply because I've failed to keep an open ear is just profoundly counterproductive."

Leslie gave Bruce an approving nod. "That's a healthy attitude to take. However, there are some exceptions to the rule."

"I have nothing to do with giving you a second chance, Leslie. Stephanie's the one you need to thank for being here and she'll be the one you'll have to answer to."

Leslie bobbed her head once again, albeit with a great deal more reservation than before.

"That being said," Bruce continued, "it's good to have you back in Gotham."

Leslie rewarded her soft-spoken charge with the slight, endearing smile that had been able to settle and warm the heart of her favorite patient even before that horrible night at Crime Alley over three decades ago. "This doesn't sound like your run-of-the-mill case file, young man. Remember to be careful."

"I always am."

Leslie let the comment lie as Bruce made his usual hasty exit. The top drawer of her eldest file cabinet held a 10-page medical report that would have proven Bruce's claim to be laughably unsound. Still, she didn't want to do anything to ruin his good mood.


Kara tried to draw out her latest once over of the goings on of The Rusty Sambo for as long as possible, almost desperate to find something with which she could occupy her time. The disturbing couple that had offended her eardrums with bizarre sexual propositions was no longer at the counter and were now no doubt engaged in whatever wince-worthy activities that they had agreed to perform to one another. The other patrons, outer worldly or otherwise, seemed to be content with amicable chatter and the occasional half-hearted threat of violence. Nigel remained behind the bar, his stocky body moving back and forth in order to better answer the needs of the customers that had clustered around the counter.

It suddenly occurred to her that this used to be the direct opposite of what she imagined her life as a superhero to be. The dreams that floated in her unconscious mind during her days in Themyscira never had her delving into strange, seedy locations, asking questions that you didn't feel entirely comfortable with asking. They had no mystery to be solved, no gray amidst the black and white, and no unknown threat capable of doing heaven knows what waiting for her in the shadows. The bad guy would commit a crime, she'd follow the bad guy, she'd beat the bad guy up, and then she'd smile and get her picture taken.

It was a dream that was as simple as everything else in her life had been during her short time at The Home of the Amazons. She had once found that simplicity to be profoundly comforting but now, as she took time out from her purposeless perusals to take stock of herself, she found that kind of simple to be just. . . itchy. It wasn't as if she couldn't have done with a bit more minimalism in some parts of her life but she couldn't help but wonder how comfortable she would feel if she had to go back to living far from the people she wanted to protect. How would she feel if she wasn't there to save that lady from being raped last night in some back alley off Blanchard Avenue? Was that singular good deed, even when magnified many times over, enough to compensate for the good she could have done elsewhere?

She found it rather discouraging to discover that she didn't have a real answer to that conundrum. Then again, that's what alcohol was for. Even for a 17-year-old.

Nigel broke into Kara's physical and psychological imbibing by taking the same seat he had taken before. The dinner crowd had mostly made its exit and the proprietor of The Rusty Sambo was quite happy to embrace the brief lull in activity that inevitably occurred before the social drinkers made their presence felt. The little poppet kept one eye on him as he settled in, her attention mostly focused upon her third bottle of beer. It took a couple moments of silence for him to realize that it was a genuine gesture, her way of forcing him into make the first move.

Smart girl.

"Y'know. The guv never had much of an eye for blondes before. Said they weren't worth tha bother. Kept his eyes glued on carrot tops, he did."

His first return salvo fired, Nigel paused to take a better look at the reaction. Kara, showing that she had learned a great deal about Terran conversational customs since she first arrived on Earth, was wise enough to take another sip of lager before responding.

"Then how do you explain Scandal Savage?" she asked as she placed her bottle back down on the table.

Nigel's round, blue eyes widened a fraction before he let loose with a boisterous burst of laughter. Kara returned the barman's exhibition with a small smile, pleased that she had passed her first test.

"Ah, that was just him bein' 'orny," the old man confessed. "No offense to Savage but I like to believe that the guv puts a bit more investment in who he happens to be shackin' up with now."

"We're not. . . shackin' up." Kara's response was said a little too quickly for it to be considered either believable or an unwanted proposition. She couldn't help but turn her eyes away from Nigel's dubious stare as she took another glance at the door.

"No need to worry, poppet," Nigel replied, his voice a great deal softer than before. "The guv'll be back when he's back. 'E can take of himself."

Kara had more than enough reason to disagree but she kept it quiet. "Why do you call him, guv?"

"'S not a story worth tellin'."

Kara nodded, more than willing to let that one go. "Then what are some stories worth telling? You said you've known him for what? Seven years? What was he like back then?"

"Ah, the guv was a sweetheart."

Kara wasn't quite ready for that one. "A sweetheart?" she parroted with quite a bit of skepticism.

"Wot's wrong with that?"

"I once watched Lloyd rip out the spine of a Luxor demon, toss it to Cissie, and tell her to hold onto it because he needed a new backscratcher."

Nigel was momentarily overtaken by laughter once again. "Well, it took a lot of time for 'im to learn how to puff out 'is feathers. But when he was younger he was the quietest little bugger I ever came across. Couldn't have talked his way out of marchin' to his death if somebody really got on 'im. Sad as it was, it did help the guv take to my trainin' like a duck to water."

"He's grown up a lot since then."

"Yeah," Nigel admitted with quite a hit of pride. "Yeah, he has."

"And what about the guy we're going after?" Kara asked softly. "How did he take to your lessons?"

The kindly, rough-hewn fellow sat back on his bench and blew out a great deal of air. "Depends on 'ow ya frame the question, poppet. Just how much did the guv tell ya 'bout Vincent?"

Vincent, Kara thought. The name sounded phenomenally unremarkable. Then again, so is Lloyd. . . and Bruce. . . and Stephanie.

"He didn't even tell me his name," Kara replied. She suddenly felt the need to bite her bottom lip as if she had done something wrong. "I didn't really want to push him into talking about it until he was ready."

The swarthy Brit gave Kara another appraising glance as he mulled her confession over. "Thas' probably the right way to go about it. 'E was never that comfortable talkin' bout 'im."

"But who is this Vincent?"

"First off, the bloke barely goes by his own name anymore," Nigel explained. "These days 'e's known more as Th' Silver Coyote." The old man noticed the evident surprise on the Kryptonian's face. "Yeah. Yet another one of Mao's brilliant nicknames. For all intents and purposes, the bloke is the guv's older brother. Not by family mind but somebody like Lloyd wasn't that picky back then."

"You really need to stop answering my questions with answers that make me want to ask more questions," Kara sourly pointed out.

Nigel gave Kara a kindly smile.

"Does Vincent have powers to?"

Nigel nodded.

"Are they like Lloyd's?

"Nearly the same. The only difference is 'ow they both choose to use 'em."

"Well, were they born with them or something?" Kara pressed forward. "If their powers are so similar but there's no familial link then how. . ."

"We didn't all get our powers from the genetic lottery, Zor-el," Nigel interrupted. "Some of them get it by some happy accident like getting bit by some radioactive wallaby or whatsits. Quite a few people had to figure out how to make their own like those pale-faced wankers on Oa."

Kara slowly scooted forward, willing to overcome the slight jab at her so-called good fortune in order to get an answer to her question. "That's not an answer to my question."

The bartender ran a hand through his coarse locks and cast his eyes down to the table. "Got neither the right nor the knowledge to give ya all the facts, poppet. Suffice it to say that some people have greatness thrust upon them whether 'ey like it or not. May I?"

Kara gave her consent as Nigel's right hand stretched across the table and took a hold of the bottle of beer. The old man took a hefty sip before continuing forward.

"When Mao and I met 'em the only people they had reason to trust was each other. Took a long bloody time 'fore the guv could figure out how to break free from it. The difference was that Vincent never did the same. Can't really tell ya if it was 'cause he couldn't or he wouldn't but 's far too late to think about that now."

"Is he that," Kara needed a moment to search for the right word, "unredeemable?"

"All that and then some, luv. The only people Vincent ever listened to was Mao and the guv an' the only reason he listened to Lloyd was so 'e could wrap 'im around his finger."

"And all the trouble he's caused was mostly because of the stuff he stole from Mao," Kara concluded. "But if he's that bad then why would Lloyd still want to listen to him?"

It was a perfectly legitimate question but Kara was fairly certain that she already knew the answer. It could have been found in every time he endured Stephanie's ramblings long after everyone else had given up and in all those awkward moments where somebody would have to dig into Batman's rigidity and into her stubbornness. It was the same reason why Lloyd would never be the one to start up an affectionate chat with a stranger and why it took Lloyd nearly six months before he treated Jim Gordon with the slightest whit of respect.

"Miss Zor-el, the guv isn't really sure how to 'andle another person turnin' against 'im."

"No,the guv most certainly is not."

Kara jumped at Lloyd's sudden arrival, the cross look in his eyes causing her to feel a bizarre hint of shame at her secrecy.

"COR BLIMEY, GUV!"

Obviously, Nigel's response was a great deal less composed. Thankfully, he had the rest of Kara's beer to calm him down. "Bloody buggerin' hell, Black Dog. 'Ow many times I tell ya not to shift into my bar? Scares the need to drink out of me patrons, it does."

"Seems to me that you're the only one pitchin' a fit, old man," Lloyd correctly identified as he glanced at the undisturbed patrons of The Rusty Sambo. "Cabrini's gotten us clearance to investigate The Monster Farm. You almost ready to go?"

"Just need a half-hour or so to clear things and get meself centered," Nigel replied. "An' I'm prolly right in guessin' that you're gonna need some time to whip up whatever mojo we may need."

The Black Dog nodded, his stern countenance clearly indicating that he was all business. "That'll suit us fine. Just be sure to be ready when we're ready."

"No problem, guv," Nigel replied as he rose up from his side of the booth. "Better get back to tendin' the counter. Need another beer?"

Kara and Lloyd both shook their heads as the latter took the old man's place in the opposite bench. A thousand questions were fluttering in Kara's thoughts as Lloyd settled in. She couldn't help but think that Lloyd was mad at her but she wasn't certain where she could even start to ask why for fear of making the situation even more awkward. Because of this, she chose to err on the side of caution, stick to the task at hand. . .

"What's on ya mind, Kara?"

And apparently leave Lloyd to push the situation forward once again. Despite the aching temptation, she stood rooted on the road she chose to go down.

"What's The Monster Farm?"

Lloyd was now looking dead at her, a hint of unnatural gray coursing through the lenses of his eyes.

"For all intents and purposes, 's where I was born."


The unmistakable roar of Nightwing's customized VR-1000 rudely interrupted the otherwise tranquil environment that The Batcave had been in the last several hours. In fact, the only sounds that had surfaced from the darkness below Wayne Manor had been the soft ruffling of bat wings, the rapid clicks and clacks of fingers across a keyboard, and a passable recording of Pagliacci.Noah tried his best to be annoyed at the younger man's grandiloquent entrance but the memory of the four hours Dick had unselfishly spent helping him with a potentially frightening errand was still rather fresh in his mind. Because of this, the best he could work up was a mildly perturbed, half-hearted glare as Bruce's first junior partner strolled towards him with quite the broad grin.

"You've returned far earlier than I had anticipated," Noah said in greeting. "Are the thrills generated in harassing purse snatchers not quite up to par this evening?"

"What can I say?" Nightwing asked with a shrug of his shoulders. "It's a slow night and it's nothing the boys in blue can't handle."

"Well, I admit that it has been a rather long night already," Noah confessed as he took a passing glance at his watch. "Something tells me that I will be asking Cecilia to take my place when she returns so I can call it a night. Just once I would like to know the sensation of getting to sleep before the sun rises over my windowsill."

"Nothing wrong with that," Dick reasoned. "What about the friendly butler?"

"I haven't seen him since word came back that Cecilia was all right. Perhaps he's decided to call it an early night as well."

Dick came to a stop at the monitor in order to take a closer look at Noah's surveillance footage of his compatriots. "What about those lads and lasses?" he asked with a finger pointed towards the screen. "Any undue schedule alterations?"

"No, everything appears to be on the straight and narrow. Kara and Lloyd have met up with their contact and they're nearly ready to start their operation. Bruce just ordered Stephanie to bring Arrowette back to the manor before they go off to find a way to get to The Speed Force."

Nightwing nodded slowly, paying particular attention to the image of Batman standing patiently upon the roof of G.C.P.D. headquarters. "So that's all the news that's fit to print?"

"Unless there's something going on that I don't know about," Noah said with a mildly exasperated grin. He turned to say something else but was cut short when Nightwing slammed his escrima stick against the side of his head. The Calculator's limp body slammed against the monitor before sliding down the console and coming to a stop on the cold, rock floor.

There was an almost savage glint in the acrobat's eyes as he dragged Noah's unconscious body up into a fireman's carry and began to carry him out of The Batcave. There was a slight frenzy of ruffling as leathery wings beat above the scene of the crime but, apart from that, the only other noticeable sights and sounds were the dull glow of the active computer monitor and the havoc of Canio's grisly work.

"You should really count your blessings, traitor," Nightwing cautioned his unhearing audience as he scaled the steps leading into Wayne Manor proper with Noah slumped across his shoulders. "If I had my way, you'd already be dead."
Misfits Confidential

Well, I just read the Superman Prime/Sinestro Corps one-shot and I've got some questions to ask. Did we really need another Superboy-man Prime vs. DC fight? Did poor Risk need to get his other arm ripped off? Do you mean to tell me that the Martian Manhunter could do absolutely no damage but Krypto the F'n Superdog could? And did we really need Batman there just to tell everybody that Superemo wasn't currently being powered by the sun? Couldn't Mister Terrific have just taken up that task while he and his teammates were getting their asses kicked? And what exactly is stopping Bitchymus Prime from just flying to the sun and removing the need for the armor altogether? I mean, I've loved all the action inSinestro Corps as much as the next comic book fan but all that just grated on my nerves.

Additionally, now I'm really glad I killed the little emo prick off in my series. I don't have the stomach to deal with something that whiny over a prolonged period of time and I've been a fifth-grade teacher.

As always, thanks to everybody whose readin' and reviewin'. Feel free to continue doing so in order to satiate my phenomenal ego. And don't worry, Wolvbym. I'm pretty damn certain I will get to The Sinestro Corps. I just need some time to set up for it. Speaking of which. . .

Issue #47 Preview

Okay. . . just what the hell happened to everybody's favorite Batman wannabe? Has Nightwing turned traitor or is there another piece to the puzzle and can that piece be found within either The Speed Force or the mysterious Monster Farm. Tune in next time as Kara and Lloyd explore the depths of Bath, Batman reunites with an old friend, and Stephanie discovers a unique cardiovascular exercise in the next installment of The Misfits: Lukewarm Memories. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!