Robin is a Girl's Name Anyway: Chapter Four: The Transaction
"You realize," said Emily, twirling around in the swivel chair, "that if I do this for you, you owe me your soul?"
"Coming from a Christian girl, that says a lot," said Max, pushing the sun glasses up farther and pulling her hat down farther as she pulled up the collar on the trench coat.
Emily stuck out her tongue, and then sighed, annoyed. "Max, take those damn sun glasses off. No one's going to see you, and I'm not being traced or anything!" she shouted angrily. Max relented, but gave a quick look around the mall food court, just in case.
The two were meeting in secret to discuss Max's constant begging of being trained. For the past two weeks, Max had followed Emily and Terry without relenting, a silent reminder that ignoring the problem wouldn't make it go away. Finally, she broke Emily's will power, and the Fox agreed to train her, if she swore to God himself she would quit being Robin and use it only in self defense. Max agreed, figuring she might be able to wear down Emily again, or, if she was extra clever, Terry.
"Well?" Emily asked again, sipping on her smoothie nonchalantly.
"Er...." Max said, pausing and thinking heavily.
"Going once-"
"Okay, okay! Deal! Deal! But you gotta keep your end of the bargain."
Emily faked being horrified. "Would I ever cheat you out of anything?"
"Yes." Emily wrinkled her nose and threw a few French fries at her friend. Grinning, they exited, arm in arm.
...
"Wrong, try again," Emily ordered as Max executed a pitiful example of a windmill kick. Max slumped against her apartment wall, breathing heavily in her exhaustion.
"It's nearly nine o'clock! We've been at this since five! Don't you have work or something to go to?" she whined, reaching for the water bottle that Emily quickly snatched away, denying her.
"Nope. I took the whole day off just for you," she responded, grinning broadly. She slumped into a chair sideways, sucking on the straw of the water bottle, her legs flung over the arm rest in nonchalance. "My, this is fun! I can see why Bruce loves it so much!"
Max glared at her. "I hate you."
"You're the one who wanted training. I merely supplied. Be lucky you didn't get Terry or Bruce..." Emily said, her words drifting off into a shudder. "No, you're extremely lucky, you know?" Max did not respond. She was too focused on trying to get her legs to start working properly again. Emily sighed, and relented.
"Oh fine, we can quit for now. You'll probably be too sore to work tomorrow either, but I don't want any complaining from you! I merely gave you what you asked for!"
"I didn't ask to have the bone marrow knocked out of me!" Max cried, close to tears in the frustration of not being able to even stand up.
"Don't be such a baby, Max! This isn't even half as bad as Terry and I get every day!"
"Well I'm not you or Terry!" Max cried out in frustration. Emily rolled her eyes, tossed her the water bottle, said goodnight, and left for the evening, returning to Wayne Manor.
...
Emily closed the car door with a slam as she walked up the gravel path to the front door. She grinned as she saw an exhausted Terry exit the building.
"Hey sunshine how was patrol?"
"So...tired...need....sleep...." he moaned, slumping against his cousin's arm. "I forgot how nice it is to have a partner around with."
"That's me, always there for you buddy. Oh, and by the way, happy birthday."
"Huh?"
"Hello? July 9th? Your birthday?"
"Oh shit! I forgot your birthday!"
Emily laughed. "Calm down, it's not that big of a deal."
"Yes it is! You still wear that gold necklace I gave you; I should get you a bracelet or something!"
"Yeah well, the kitten I gave you is probably close to kicking the bucket, but I doubt you want a new one."
He laughed. "Thank you, no. Spec was enough. Even when he's gone, I'll still have the photo."
"Photo?"
"Don't you remember? It was of you and me when I first gave you the necklace and you gave me Spec!"
"I'm a woman, Terry, not an encyclopedia of all our birthday pictures."
He laughed. "Good point. I'll make you a copy, k?"
"K. Goodnight."
"'Night," he responded, walking off towards his motorcycle. Emily shook her head and laughed, climbing the steps and entering the house.
"Bruce! I'm home!" she called. She heard Ace barking, signaling her return, and smiled. Yup, he was still alive. Just had to make sure. She entered her bedroom and flopped down onto the bed, resting tired eyes.
...
"This thing's creeping me out," Fox said, rubbing her arm nervously as the pair of vigilantes sat on the roof of the theater, awaiting Bruce's instructions. They had no true purpose for being at the theater, other than the fact that a section of the roof was glass, and it would give them something to watch and listen to while they waited for all of Bruce's data had come through.
"I dunno, for something so old, I kinda like this musical," said Batman, lifting his head up to grin at her.
"Har, har...." she said, rolling her eyes. "You know I meant the waiting. I don't like super villains who pretend they're ancient rulers, it makes me nervous."
"Reliving Nightshade?" he asked, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder.
"You should talk...." she responded harshly. Nightshade. She'd never be rid of her. Of the fear and the waiting. Of the pain and confusion. Of those cold, black eyes and that cruel laugh. The haunting images would never fade, would never leave her. Never, never.
"Sorry," he apologized, reverting his attention to the musical below. "How old was this musical?" he then queried.
"Nineteen eighty something," Emily responded, slowly noticing that feeling was creeping back into her extremities. Terry gapped, and continued to stare.
"What book was it based off of?" he then asked.
"Lord, I don't know!" she said impatiently. The Gotham City Hall Theater had been doing spring cleaning a few months ago and had stumbled upon ancient scripts and sheet music for dozens of plays, but mostly musicals. So, for the next few years they'd be doing the special "Glimpse from the Past," showing all of the musicals. Some of them were even going on tour. Emily was dying to see one, and intended to drag Terry along with her, or, if she was extremely luck, Kyle.
Terry opened his mouth to ask another question, but then shut it as he put a finger to his cowl.
"We're getting a call from Bruce. He says that there's something odd going on down by the old gun factory."
"Got it," said Emily, hopping into the batmobile.
...
Emily laughed now, in a mixture of amusement and relief. "Well talk about nostalgia."
"What? What's so funny?" Terry asked, cocking his head and looking at the old arms factory. It didn't seem any different to him than any other building.
"What? You don't remember?"
"No."
Emily's hand now became a gun which she shoved into his chest. "I know it's you in there Terry," she said, grinning.
He thought a moment, and then grinned too. "Ah yes, the fateful night you found out my dark and deadly secret."
"Well, my partner in anti-crime, shall we go in?" she said, motioning to the door.
"Lets."
"Are you two quite finished?" Bruce snapped through the radio connection. They ignored him and burst open the door.
There, in the center, surround by pale bluish-green light, were a ring of six men, and one woman in the center, a large pot in front of her. Holding up seven different jewels, she shouted out incantations, and with each incantation, the gems pulsed with light.
"Oh no you don't!" shouted Emily, pulling her hands over her head and then together as though she were holding a gun. And then, to Terry's amazement, she was. A golden revolver sparkling in the dim light.
"Golden Gun! Fire!" she shouted, as one long beam of light shot out from the pistol.
"Good God, Emily, no!" Terry shouted, trying to stop her, but it was too late. One of the men went down, smacking into another as he smashed against a wall. Terry roughly grabbed his cousin's arm, keeping her from continuing the assault. "Are you crazy?!"
"What's the matter with you?! It's just focused energy! It's like getting hit with hard rubber really, really, really, really, really hard." Terry immediately released her arm, noticing that the woman, whose features looked tired and haggard, almost violently so, was making a break for it. Turning to face him, she shouted words he didn't understand, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.
He turned to find Emily bashing one in the head, while trying to keep two others at bay. Using a batarang, he managed to take out the two that hassled her while knocking out the last one.
"TERRY!" he finally heard Bruce shouting into his ear. "I told you Emily to get back to the cave! New development!"
"Got it," Terry said, exhaustedly. "Let's go Em."
...
"Her name's what?"
"Andrea Leslie," Bruce responded to Emily's question, motioning to the monitor. "Former professor of ancient Egyptian history, a widow, and now, crazy beyond belief."
"Great, that's just what we need," said Terry, slumping into a chair.
"Egyptian history fascinated her, especially that of Hatshepsut. When her husband died of a mysterious disease that doctors couldn't cure, she turned to the only comfort she had: her books. In a mad wave of grief and desperation, she used her life saving to buy items of mystic power in order use a spell she'd found. Unfortunately for her, it worked. She thinks she's queen of Egypt, and worse yet, the world. And the spell gave her seven people to believe her. Now it's six, but they're still deadly."
"So what are the jewels for?" Emily asked, feeling a horrible pang of sorrow for the grief stricken Andrea.
"Spells that will help her control the world. But there's hope yet. She's mad, but the real Andrea's still in there someplace, and is trying to sabotage the whole thing. Rumor has it that the two fight constantly with each other, and she beats herself up in frustration."
"That's awful!" Emily cried, shooting up from her chair. "There's got to be someway to help her!"
"None known to modern medical science, or any Egyptian scrolls I've seen as of late. Her only release will be her own death, and I think that's what she's trying to accomplish."
Terry reached out a hand to hold his cousin's seeing the pure disgust and horror written on her face.
"A new Nightshade?" he asked.
"A similarity, but I doubt that we're dealing with Satan his or herself."
Emily felt suddenly sick. Someone stop the ride, she wanted to get off.
"Well then, I guess tomorrow we'll get cracking."
"You realize," said Emily, twirling around in the swivel chair, "that if I do this for you, you owe me your soul?"
"Coming from a Christian girl, that says a lot," said Max, pushing the sun glasses up farther and pulling her hat down farther as she pulled up the collar on the trench coat.
Emily stuck out her tongue, and then sighed, annoyed. "Max, take those damn sun glasses off. No one's going to see you, and I'm not being traced or anything!" she shouted angrily. Max relented, but gave a quick look around the mall food court, just in case.
The two were meeting in secret to discuss Max's constant begging of being trained. For the past two weeks, Max had followed Emily and Terry without relenting, a silent reminder that ignoring the problem wouldn't make it go away. Finally, she broke Emily's will power, and the Fox agreed to train her, if she swore to God himself she would quit being Robin and use it only in self defense. Max agreed, figuring she might be able to wear down Emily again, or, if she was extra clever, Terry.
"Well?" Emily asked again, sipping on her smoothie nonchalantly.
"Er...." Max said, pausing and thinking heavily.
"Going once-"
"Okay, okay! Deal! Deal! But you gotta keep your end of the bargain."
Emily faked being horrified. "Would I ever cheat you out of anything?"
"Yes." Emily wrinkled her nose and threw a few French fries at her friend. Grinning, they exited, arm in arm.
...
"Wrong, try again," Emily ordered as Max executed a pitiful example of a windmill kick. Max slumped against her apartment wall, breathing heavily in her exhaustion.
"It's nearly nine o'clock! We've been at this since five! Don't you have work or something to go to?" she whined, reaching for the water bottle that Emily quickly snatched away, denying her.
"Nope. I took the whole day off just for you," she responded, grinning broadly. She slumped into a chair sideways, sucking on the straw of the water bottle, her legs flung over the arm rest in nonchalance. "My, this is fun! I can see why Bruce loves it so much!"
Max glared at her. "I hate you."
"You're the one who wanted training. I merely supplied. Be lucky you didn't get Terry or Bruce..." Emily said, her words drifting off into a shudder. "No, you're extremely lucky, you know?" Max did not respond. She was too focused on trying to get her legs to start working properly again. Emily sighed, and relented.
"Oh fine, we can quit for now. You'll probably be too sore to work tomorrow either, but I don't want any complaining from you! I merely gave you what you asked for!"
"I didn't ask to have the bone marrow knocked out of me!" Max cried, close to tears in the frustration of not being able to even stand up.
"Don't be such a baby, Max! This isn't even half as bad as Terry and I get every day!"
"Well I'm not you or Terry!" Max cried out in frustration. Emily rolled her eyes, tossed her the water bottle, said goodnight, and left for the evening, returning to Wayne Manor.
...
Emily closed the car door with a slam as she walked up the gravel path to the front door. She grinned as she saw an exhausted Terry exit the building.
"Hey sunshine how was patrol?"
"So...tired...need....sleep...." he moaned, slumping against his cousin's arm. "I forgot how nice it is to have a partner around with."
"That's me, always there for you buddy. Oh, and by the way, happy birthday."
"Huh?"
"Hello? July 9th? Your birthday?"
"Oh shit! I forgot your birthday!"
Emily laughed. "Calm down, it's not that big of a deal."
"Yes it is! You still wear that gold necklace I gave you; I should get you a bracelet or something!"
"Yeah well, the kitten I gave you is probably close to kicking the bucket, but I doubt you want a new one."
He laughed. "Thank you, no. Spec was enough. Even when he's gone, I'll still have the photo."
"Photo?"
"Don't you remember? It was of you and me when I first gave you the necklace and you gave me Spec!"
"I'm a woman, Terry, not an encyclopedia of all our birthday pictures."
He laughed. "Good point. I'll make you a copy, k?"
"K. Goodnight."
"'Night," he responded, walking off towards his motorcycle. Emily shook her head and laughed, climbing the steps and entering the house.
"Bruce! I'm home!" she called. She heard Ace barking, signaling her return, and smiled. Yup, he was still alive. Just had to make sure. She entered her bedroom and flopped down onto the bed, resting tired eyes.
...
"This thing's creeping me out," Fox said, rubbing her arm nervously as the pair of vigilantes sat on the roof of the theater, awaiting Bruce's instructions. They had no true purpose for being at the theater, other than the fact that a section of the roof was glass, and it would give them something to watch and listen to while they waited for all of Bruce's data had come through.
"I dunno, for something so old, I kinda like this musical," said Batman, lifting his head up to grin at her.
"Har, har...." she said, rolling her eyes. "You know I meant the waiting. I don't like super villains who pretend they're ancient rulers, it makes me nervous."
"Reliving Nightshade?" he asked, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder.
"You should talk...." she responded harshly. Nightshade. She'd never be rid of her. Of the fear and the waiting. Of the pain and confusion. Of those cold, black eyes and that cruel laugh. The haunting images would never fade, would never leave her. Never, never.
"Sorry," he apologized, reverting his attention to the musical below. "How old was this musical?" he then queried.
"Nineteen eighty something," Emily responded, slowly noticing that feeling was creeping back into her extremities. Terry gapped, and continued to stare.
"What book was it based off of?" he then asked.
"Lord, I don't know!" she said impatiently. The Gotham City Hall Theater had been doing spring cleaning a few months ago and had stumbled upon ancient scripts and sheet music for dozens of plays, but mostly musicals. So, for the next few years they'd be doing the special "Glimpse from the Past," showing all of the musicals. Some of them were even going on tour. Emily was dying to see one, and intended to drag Terry along with her, or, if she was extremely luck, Kyle.
Terry opened his mouth to ask another question, but then shut it as he put a finger to his cowl.
"We're getting a call from Bruce. He says that there's something odd going on down by the old gun factory."
"Got it," said Emily, hopping into the batmobile.
...
Emily laughed now, in a mixture of amusement and relief. "Well talk about nostalgia."
"What? What's so funny?" Terry asked, cocking his head and looking at the old arms factory. It didn't seem any different to him than any other building.
"What? You don't remember?"
"No."
Emily's hand now became a gun which she shoved into his chest. "I know it's you in there Terry," she said, grinning.
He thought a moment, and then grinned too. "Ah yes, the fateful night you found out my dark and deadly secret."
"Well, my partner in anti-crime, shall we go in?" she said, motioning to the door.
"Lets."
"Are you two quite finished?" Bruce snapped through the radio connection. They ignored him and burst open the door.
There, in the center, surround by pale bluish-green light, were a ring of six men, and one woman in the center, a large pot in front of her. Holding up seven different jewels, she shouted out incantations, and with each incantation, the gems pulsed with light.
"Oh no you don't!" shouted Emily, pulling her hands over her head and then together as though she were holding a gun. And then, to Terry's amazement, she was. A golden revolver sparkling in the dim light.
"Golden Gun! Fire!" she shouted, as one long beam of light shot out from the pistol.
"Good God, Emily, no!" Terry shouted, trying to stop her, but it was too late. One of the men went down, smacking into another as he smashed against a wall. Terry roughly grabbed his cousin's arm, keeping her from continuing the assault. "Are you crazy?!"
"What's the matter with you?! It's just focused energy! It's like getting hit with hard rubber really, really, really, really, really hard." Terry immediately released her arm, noticing that the woman, whose features looked tired and haggard, almost violently so, was making a break for it. Turning to face him, she shouted words he didn't understand, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.
He turned to find Emily bashing one in the head, while trying to keep two others at bay. Using a batarang, he managed to take out the two that hassled her while knocking out the last one.
"TERRY!" he finally heard Bruce shouting into his ear. "I told you Emily to get back to the cave! New development!"
"Got it," Terry said, exhaustedly. "Let's go Em."
...
"Her name's what?"
"Andrea Leslie," Bruce responded to Emily's question, motioning to the monitor. "Former professor of ancient Egyptian history, a widow, and now, crazy beyond belief."
"Great, that's just what we need," said Terry, slumping into a chair.
"Egyptian history fascinated her, especially that of Hatshepsut. When her husband died of a mysterious disease that doctors couldn't cure, she turned to the only comfort she had: her books. In a mad wave of grief and desperation, she used her life saving to buy items of mystic power in order use a spell she'd found. Unfortunately for her, it worked. She thinks she's queen of Egypt, and worse yet, the world. And the spell gave her seven people to believe her. Now it's six, but they're still deadly."
"So what are the jewels for?" Emily asked, feeling a horrible pang of sorrow for the grief stricken Andrea.
"Spells that will help her control the world. But there's hope yet. She's mad, but the real Andrea's still in there someplace, and is trying to sabotage the whole thing. Rumor has it that the two fight constantly with each other, and she beats herself up in frustration."
"That's awful!" Emily cried, shooting up from her chair. "There's got to be someway to help her!"
"None known to modern medical science, or any Egyptian scrolls I've seen as of late. Her only release will be her own death, and I think that's what she's trying to accomplish."
Terry reached out a hand to hold his cousin's seeing the pure disgust and horror written on her face.
"A new Nightshade?" he asked.
"A similarity, but I doubt that we're dealing with Satan his or herself."
Emily felt suddenly sick. Someone stop the ride, she wanted to get off.
"Well then, I guess tomorrow we'll get cracking."