I was watching The Incredibles a few weeks ago, and I was struck all over again with my love of superhero stuff. For some reason Stiletto came to mind. I wasn't much of a fan of Lois's superhero dallying the first time around, but all of a sudden I had to write a story. And so this piece was born. It's AU, but not hugely different from the original storyline.
Disclaimer: I just like to play, I don't get to take them home.
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Lois pushed herself up on the asphalt, rubbing at her dirt streaked, leather-clad thigh with one gloved hand. With an annoyed sigh, she resigned herself to another night with a toothbrush and a sink full of laundry detergent. Moonlighting as a superhero was often more work after the sun rose. At least kicking criminal ass gave her a sense of satisfaction; hand-washing her suit only gave her dry skin. As she climbed to her feet, Lois realized with a groan that the damage was worse that she had originally speculated. She had landed near the victim's purse—the woman herself was long gone—and somehow managed to grind lipstick into the fabric covering her left hip.
"Why the hell didn't I choose something machine washable?" she muttered, not for the first time. Of course, it hadn't mattered much when it was a charade for a story, but for once Lois wished she had tempered her ambition with foresight. Leather went out of style for a reason—namely, discomfort and maintenance—and the heels weren't any better.
"But they do have their perks," she said brightly, striding to where the shady Jack the Ripper wannabe lay slumped against the wall. She could barely make out his face in the horror-movie lighting of the alley, but she knew it would only give her a more menacing edge. She couldn't help but grin to herself as she watched him stir, groaning as his eyes fluttered open.
"If you want to avoid further injury," she moved as she spoke, until she was towering over him, "I would refrain from making any sudden movements."
He looked around, befuddled, before his eyes caught the reflection of light against the black leather of her boot. His eyes widened at the sight of her dangerous spike heel hovering menacingly above his groin, and he jerked instinctively away. Lois sighed, rolling her eyes before following through on her promise—not hard enough to give permanent damage, but definitely enough to make him think twice before following any more women down dark alleys.
"I did warn you," she told his twitching figure before bringing the front of her boot down on his skull, rendering him unconscious.
"They never listen," she added to herself, a little rueful. Turning on her heel, Lois jolted to a stop as she came face to face with a small, dark figure. The deep shadows of the surrounding buildings muted the costume, but Lois could still pick out the tones of red and yellow under the obscuring grey.
"Speedy," she noted, raising one eyebrow as she appraised the brightly dressed teen. "I'm surprised you didn't beat me here. Aren't these cases kind of your M.O.?"
"I wasn't neglecting the city," the girl defended righteously. Lois suppressed a grin at the hint of Green Arrow in her tone. She knew the cape-less crusader about as well as she knew her sources at the police station—she could sweet talk them out of classified information any day of the week, but ask them the name of their cat and they'd look at you like you were Lex Luthor.
Still, her reporter's instincts were sharp enough to deduce that Arrow had taken Speedy under his wing. And it didn't take a genius to see that the kid had a sore spot regarding victimized women.
"Don't worry, street fighter. I took care of Mr. Crude and Creepy over there. And when you finally get your driver's license? Let me know and I'll save a piece for you."
Speedy ignored the barb, looking over Lois's work. "Did you . . ." she paused for a minute, squinting at the way the criminal lay hunched on the dirty cement. " . . . Stiletto his balls?" she wondered, sounding both impressed and vindictively pleased.
A genuine smile tugged at Lois' lips. "Nice eye, kid. One of these days you'll be able to take 'em down yourself." Barely two months after the mini-crime fighter's debut, the girl already worked a night a week away from her green-garbed babysitter.
"How's that Arrow of yours these days?" Lois asked, then paused. "You know," she mused, "put the two of you together and you might be mistaken for a stoplight."
"Funny," Speedy intoned sourly. Then her eyes brightened, and her mouth quirked. "You like bright colors?" She appraised Lois's costume, from her dark chocolate hair to the tip of her shiny black boots. "I would have never known for all that black leather. I'll bet you love the new guy."
Despite her intended comeback, Lois found herself asking, "New guy?" with a little too much curiosity. Realizing her blunder, she crossed her arms and shot back, "wouldn't you just love it if I had a new superhero-in-training to tease?" Lois had been the new hero on the block for over a year, and when the Green Arrow got a sidekick, she had been only too happy to participate in a little hazing of her own.
Speedy's smile looked more delightfully informed than ever, and Lois let the question slip, "So, um, what new guy?"
"Friend of Arrow's. He blurred into town a few weeks ago." The teenage vigilante was feigning disinterest, but it was obvious she was pleased to be in the loop. Sometimes, Lois wished she weren't such an outcast among the stealth crime fighters of the city.
"Then he must be invisible," she surmised, a little annoyed. "Because I certainly haven't seen any-" she cut herself off as a familiar sense washed over her. It was the kind she often got chasing a story, that feeling that she had all the pieces, she just didn't know it yet.
She thought back, hoping to dislodge the stubborn piece of information clinging to the recesses of her memories.
Unlike most of Metropolis's vigilantes, Stiletto hadn't been born of altruistic motives. Lois had been in the right place at the wrong time, and the mafia errand boy mugging her cousin had gotten on the wrong end of Lois's heels. She had used the opportunity to scoop her fellow reporters on superhero saves around the city, and the masked heroes had taken it personally. When she found herself unwilling to abandon her new role, they hadn't exactly welcomed her into the secret club. Still, she knew enough about the capes around Metropolis to keep herself out of trouble.
The Green Arrow and Speedy were regulars; she could count on them to patrol at least five nights of the week. Black Canary was around often enough, though her frequent disappearances made Lois wonder if she wasn't based somewhere else. There were a few others: some zippy dude who dressed brightly enough that Lois wondered if he was Speedy's boyfriend. A dark guy who could smash through just about anything, and always seemed to find his way into high security buildings without tripping any alarms. A surfer-wannabe who hung out by the coast.
Once she thought she'd seen a pair of creepy red eyes floating midair, but whether friend or foe she couldn't tell. There was something else, though, that she knew she was missing. Something to do with the color red . . . .
"Blurred?" She realized suddenly just how carefully Speedy had chosen her words. But he couldn't be . . . . "The Red-Blur Blur?" she asked anyway, disbelief coloring her words.
"Up at the Tower, we call him Boy Scout," Speedy answered with a grin.
Lois didn't reply, overcome by a sudden urge to gaze starry-eyed at a blurry mug shot, splashed across the front page of the Daily Planet eighteen months ago. She'd never admit it—especially to Speedy—but the Blur had motivated her first steps into the world of costumed kick-ass. He had been her journalistic goal, her crime-fighting ideal, and quite honestly, just the thought of him made her heart beat faster. The thought of an interview with the Blur had ramped her ambition into overdrive. Before Lois had caught so much as a super-powered hiccup, his brief career in Metropolis was over, and hers was there to stay.
"You know the Red-Blue-Blur?" she asked, failing to notice the hopeful hint of hero-worship in her voice.
This time, Speedy laughed aloud. "I told you," she answered mysteriously, "he's a friend of Arrow's."
Lois opened her mouth to ask more, professional detachment abandoned. The wail of sirens broke through her focus, chastising the slip.
Stiletto straightened, firmly placing a hand on her hip for good measure. "You want to handle this one, intern? Or do you need help from someone with a little more experience?"
"I think we've got the experience thing covered." Lois whirled at the voice echoing down the alley, her cape spreading wide before twisting around her torso. As Speedy jogged past her, Lois did her best to look dignified.
"Aren't you tired of playing with toys?" she called, eyeing the pretty Lamborghini idling on the street. The sirens had masked its approach, and its driver looked sufficiently smug about sneaking up on her.
"Girls your age shouldn't be playing dress-up," he called back. Speedy slid into the open passenger window—against the shiny green of the car, she really did look like a stoplight—and the Green Arrow flashed Stiletto a smirk. "Why don't you leave the criminals to the real heroes, Leather Legs?"
Lois ground her teeth as he burned rubber, glaring at the fast-fading dot through the dissipating smoke. Then, purely for her own pleasure, she nudged the fallen criminal in the stomach. Hard. With the steely point of her stiletto.
*****
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