A Little Hostility
It was somewhat difficult to tell, but there looked to be five or six of them, each in horrifying states of gruesome disassembly.
Flies had gathered, their incessant buzzing mingling with the police radio chatter and forensic gibberish. Also mixing with the already putrid scent of the bar's cigarette smoke stuffiness, was the smell of death. A sort of nose-curling rot that had Artemis' stomach folding in on itself.
She wanted to look away, felt the pull of muscles screaming at her to just leave, but she knew a single detail could be what broke the case.
Heroes couldn't afford the luxury of ignorance. Not here, not ever.
Blood and fluids slicked the worn wooden dance floor, spilling from the bodies of the mangled victims.
Mauled, Artemis thought blearily. It looked like they'd been mauled.
Someone had already thought to pull a plastic sheet over two of the bodies, but the rest were still being photographed as topical evidence.
Grayson's unexpected movement to their right was the only thing strong enough to pull her from her stupor, his heavy boots squelching in the red mess at their feet as he walked away.
Later, she would be shocked by his quick recovery over the macabre sight. Now, it took everything in her to swallow down the bile in her throat and follow him.
At the moment, she didn't have any room left for extra conspiracies.
He seemed to be heading toward a tall, gangly man toting a large black bag. Said man was pale, borderline gaunt, and absolutely seething at Grayson.
Artemis was half surprised Grayson didn't join the dead bodies on the floor; that glare was lethal.
The celebrity slash detective stopped in front of the glaring man, inclining his head slightly in lieu of a greeting.
The man, who looked even taller next to Grayson's diminutive stature, ignored the nod entirely. "What are you doing here, Dick?"
The detective didn't even blink at the barbed insult. Evidently, this wasn't his first rodeo. "How original, Addams. I see your promotion has gone straight to your already over-inflated head."
Kid Flash, who'd followed after Grayson with rest of the team, smothered a snort. Even stone faced Kaldur quirked a small smile.
The man—Addams—turned an exotic shade of plum beneath his greasy mop of hair. "Why are you here? And why are they here?" He turned his grey gaze on the heroes, fixing the still grinning Wally with an especially dark scowl. "Come to usurp my investigation again?"
Grayson rolled his eyes at the other man's obvious dramatics. When he spoke, there was a slight strain in his voice, like he was struggling to keep his tone civil. "No. I'm here because a witness wants to talk to me. And they're here because the commissioner assigned us a case together."
"Still acting as Griffin's little lackey, I see. No surprise there," Addams gave an extremely unflattering snort. "You always were a suck-up."
"Yes." Grayson's face could've been etched from stone with how blank it was. "I assume you're referring to when I paid off the whole college board, and slept with several academy instructors, and gave an erotic pole dancing show to the dean, and water boarded the award's committee so I'd graduate with my full scholarship intact."
Beside her, Kaldur looked flabbergasted. Even Artemis, who'd grown up on the rather shady side of things, was taken aback by his apparent confession.
"Garh! You are insufferable. I know you did those things! Just because I could never find out the truth—"
This time it was Grayson who snorted, "You wouldn't know the truth if it smacked you in the face."
"—doesn't mean I'm wrong!" Addams finished stubbornly, "There's no other way you could've been promoted to detective that fast. No other way you could be Griffin's right-hand man after barely a year on the force."
The younger man's eyes glittered dangerously at the mention of his boss, every ounce of mirth vanishing in an instant. "Say her name again and I will have you sipping out of a straw for the rest of your meaningless existence."
The already pale man went considerable paler at that, but kept on running his mouth all the same. "Don't think I won't figure you out someday, Dick."
Grayson just sighed, turning to Kaldur and, upon seeing the Atlantean's concerned expression, offered a quick explanation, "We went to the same police academy, and Addams here got it into his head that any and all success was thanks to me sleeping with the faculty." He cocked his head, as if considering something, "That, or I was funneling money into their accounts. I mix up his BS sometimes."
Addams sputtered, tongue seemingly tied as he searched for words. He finally settled on a weak, "Better watch your back, faker."
The detective rolled his eyes, "I'll do that. Can you take us to the witness now?"
Artemis hadn't thought it possible, but Addams' frown set even deeper. "My witness. And I don't know why she wants to talk to you." He eyed the detective up and down pointedly, "Then again, the Wayne's always did have a more…flirtatious image."
Grayson simply ignored the taunt. "Where is she?"
Seeming to realize the detective wasn't going to rise to the bait, Addams' deflated slightly, setting his bag down with a defeated thump.
Without indicating whether or not he meant for them to follow, the toothpick of a man spun on his heel and took off towards one of the bar's darkened hallways.
Grayson heaved a heavy sigh before turning toward Kaldur, "You can come if you want, or you can hang around the crime scene. Your choice."
Artemis didn't have to look to picture the sprawled and broken bodies. The smell of death was still thick in the air, leaving all-too little to the imagination.
It was true that she'd seen worse; seen the bloodier, bristlier remains of human conflict.
From a young age, Artemis had known what death was. Had it dog her every footstep in the form of her father. Only when Oliver had offered her a place on Young Justice—where she'd found a purpose, a family—had she finally been free from the fear of it.
But just because she'd seen such things before didn't make her comfortable with them, didn't make the scene behind them any less horrific.
Kid Flash answered before Kaldur could, speaking what was likely the team's shared opinion. "We'll go with you."
The detective's blue eyes (had they always been that bright in the magazines? That searching? Assessing?) narrowed for a moment, as if weighing options they could never fathom.
Then he shrugged, heading down the hall in pursuit of Addams.
The team followed after. Artemis, for the first time, wondering if there was more to Grayson than met the eye.
BREAK
The hallway was lit only by a flickering exit sign and, for a moment, Artemis thought they were going to leave the building.
But Addams' dark silhouette stopped in front of a beaten looking door, its wood surface covered in outdated flyers and twisting graffiti.
He didn't bother knocking, merely seizing the rusted handle and strutting in.
Grayson and the heroes followed, Artemis with a sinking feeling she knew what to expect. Knew what profession their witness was in.
Her suspicions seemed confirmed when the room, illuminated by a torn string of dollar store paper lanterns and a dirty window, appeared to be some kind of living space.
Four uniformed people were standing around one woman in a chair, skin-tight jeans and a sheer blouse doing little to hide her bony figure. She looked to be in her early twenties, barely older than them, with short, bleached white hair dyed pink at the tips.
Her mascara-runny eyes widened at the sight of Grayson, only to narrow again when she spotted the heroes flanking him.
Did anyone in this city trust superheroes?
Addams crossed his arms over his chest, fixing the detective with a smug look, as if to say bet you weren't expecting THIS.
Grayson, to Artemis' surprise—he kept doing that today; surprising her—ignored Addams completely in favour of kneeling on the grimy floor in front of the woman.
With his back to the team, Artemis couldn't tell what expression he was making, but whatever it was seemed to put the witness instantly at ease. Then he looked up, fixing what was probably an icy glare at the four extra officers,
"You are making my witness uncomfortable." He shifted, rising to his full, rather unimpressive height. "Leave."
One of them, a young officer with crooked teeth, gaped in surprise. "S-sir—we can't just—you can't just—"
"Leave." The dark-haired man's tone left no room for debate.
To the poor man's credit, Crooked Teeth tried to stand his ground, "But sir, it's against protocol. You aren't allowed to—"
Addams, looking considerably less smug now, grudgingly joined the conversation, "Do as Detective Grayson says. We need her statement."
"Yes, sir." The officers clearly weren't happy about it, but they obeyed, quickly filing out of the room while giving Grayson a wide berth and nervous glances.
Soon as they were gone, the woman slumped in her chair and let out a relieved, breathy sigh that rattled deep in her chest.
The room was silent for about half a minute before Addams broke it. "Need I remind you we're on a bit of a tight schedule here, detecti—"
"Why doesn't she have a shock blanket?" Grayson interrupted as if the other man hadn't been speaking. "She's clearly in shock," He gestured to the witness, who had begun to tremble where she sat.
The team's gaze, including Artemis', snapped back to Addams for his response. It was like watching a very personal tennis match, one in which Grayson had just executed a particularly impossible serve.
Addam flushed that same shade of purple as before. Absently, Artemis wondered if he had some kind of heart problem. "You know this as well as I do. I'm not in charge of doling out—"
The detective's eyes widened in faux innocence, the expression not fooling anyone. They may have only known him two days, but it had quickly become apparent that Grayson didn't doinnocent.
"I thought you'd been promoted to head on-scene investigator, Addams. Doesn't that make you in charge of little things like shock blankets?" He blinked, lashes fluttering excessively. "Or was I mistaken?"
Addams looked absolutely livid, previously murky eyes blazing with barely restrained anger. "Listen here, Detective Junior. I'm in charge, I'm calling the shots. Now if you don't start—"
"Then you get your primary witness a shock blanket." That earlier civility vanished in an instant. "And you get it now."
Was that the third time Grayson had interrupted him? Artemis really should start keeping track. She and Wally could make some sort of game out of it.
"She doesn't need a—"
The detective spun so fast he appeared blurry; legs taut as if he were about to pounce. His body displayed an unholy amount of rage for a such a small package.
When Artemis deemed it safe to take her eyes off him, it was somewhat of a shock to see that Addams hadn't melted under the force of his glare.
When he did speak, Grayson enunciated each word with careful precision, as if rolling them around in his tongue before uttering them. "Go get your witness a shock blanket."
Addams looked appropriately terrified, but straightened with unspoken resolve despite the five-foot-something wild animal clearly getting ready to attack him. "No, she's a literal whore. She doesn't need a shock blanket."
Grayson's hand flicked down to his belt for some reason, fingers flexing as if miming to grab at something that wasn't there.
A pen, perhaps? So he could stab Addams' eyes out? He certainly looked angry enough to be contemplating an eye-stabbing. Artemis herself was contemplating an eye-stabbing.
She'd had friends during high school who hadn't been able to make ends meet, who'd had little brothers and sisters to care for and no help from parents. They'd never told her details of what they did in seedy alleys on Friday nights, but.…Artemis knew.
Watching Grayson get mad, even if it was justified, stirred the thoughts in her mind. Maybe….maybe she should consider taking Dinah up on her counselling offer. If Artemis looked anything like this when she was about to go off the hook…if her friends saw her like this…
She didn't want to be that angry ever again.
Grayson, however, seemed fully intent on surprising her today. Instead of flying into a homicidal rage, he breathed deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring, and seemed to quietly push everything down.
The process lasted no longer than a second before the detective was smiling, the expression somehow more lethal than any of his previous anger. "Addams," His tone matched the upward curve of his mouth, but that same frigid steel flashed in his eyes, "Get. Out."
Artemis mentally made a note to avoid getting on his bad side for as long as humanly possible. She did not want this midget cop as an enemy.
Addams apparently shared her sentiment, if the way he turned tail and fled was anything to go by.
"Well," Wally said, filling the following stunned silence. "That was…intense."
At the nonchalant tone of Kid Flash's voice, Grayson's entire body relaxed out of its ready position. "I thought he would never leave."
Artemis didn't know whether to be relived—or insulted—that he didn't view them as enough of a threat to stay on his guard.
Relived, probably.
The detective turned back to the woman, once again taking a knee in front of her so they were level. "Sorry 'bout that. Do you mind telling me your name?"
The woman heaved in another shaky breath, "Stage name, or given?"
"Whichever makes you more comfortable."
That made the woman smile, the expression a little wobbly but still definitely there. "Hennessey said you were trustworthy. Said you were one of the good ones. I wasn't sure if I could believe her."
Artemis subtly eyed Grayson up and down, wondering what could possible be so good about him. All he seemed like to her was a grumpy, privileged cop. Too smart for his own good and lacking in motivation.
Though…here he was, kneeling on a filthy floor, talking amicably with a person someone of his class would usually scorn.
She'd have to think about all this later, when they weren't next door to a gruesome crime scene.
"Hennessey. I remember; nice lady, wicked sense of humour." He cracked an oddly crooked smile, "Literally."
"My name's Ida," The woman said. "I asked for you because…because I knew they wouldn't take me seriously. Wouldn't believe me." Her fingers curled into tight fists as she spoke, "But you believed Hennie about the assault charges, even got that man convicted. I knew you would listen."
Grayson didn't look taken aback by her admission at all, "'Course I would. Do you mind if my—" His lips pulled into a tight grimace, as if the word itself somehow displeased him, "partners sit in? They're assisting me with a case."
Ida eyed the heroes cautiously, "I guess if they're with you, it's okay."
The detective glanced over his shoulder, acknowledging them for the first time since they'd entered the room. "Well? Sit."
They were quick to obey, probably thinking, like Artemis, that they did not want to see this man angry ever again.
It was strange, sitting on the floor in a little half-circle, united by a common goal. Almost as if the six of them were a team.
She huffed quietly to herself while Grayson proceeded with the questioning, voice as soft as she'd ever heard it. Them, on a team with Richard Wayne-Grayson? How ridiculous.
Yet there was still a part of her (albeit a small one) that couldn't help but hope.
I am so sorry! I updated over on ao3, and totally forgot to do it here too!
Anywho, here's the update! Literally cannot believe I forgot -_-
As always, thanks for reading! And double thank you to everyone who left a review! You all had really good ideas for a main antagonist and seriously encourage me to keep writing so much 3333
Have a great week! Hopefully I'll remember to update on time :/
~ASL