I:
After receiving the gift of her swords, Rumiko had trained in the art and science of armed combat, but she had also studied jujutsu for a few months. That had been long enough for her to realize that she could excel in one of the areas, but not both. But it had also been long enough for her to witness some truly great masters at work.
And the fight she was witnessing at the moment would have been beyond any of them.
In a way, the black-garbed man and the one he called Harlequin reminded her more of the martial arts video programs of her childhood in the way that they fought, but faster -- as though the video was on fast-forward. She could see the strikes and the blocks, but each of them seemed to last only for an instant before the next engagement began. It was breath-taking.
"Pretty scary, huh?" asked the blonde woman at whom Rumiko had been thrown, earlier.
"Scary?"
"That there's two people in the world who are that good at it." She gestured with an elbow.
Rumiko considered this, and nodded shortly. "Yes. I think you are correct."
"I'm Terra," the other said by way of introduction.
"I am known as Katana," Rumiko responded.
"Really." Terra appeared to consider this, and then shrugged. "I guess we're neither of us very original."
Rumiko frowned and was about to ask what she meant by that.
The air was abruptly torn asunder by a tremendous roar of thunder. Almost reflexively, Rumiko covered her eyes to shield them from the blinding lightning that was surely to follow.
But there was none. And when she lifted her arm from her eyes, the Harlequin lay crumpled in front of a huge hole in the floor, with a matching one in the ceiling above it. The man had dropped to one knee and was examining his fallen opponent carefully.
"But how?" Rumiko asked, even as Terra rose to her feet and made her own observation.
"You've got to be kidding me."
II:
The speed of Mercury and the strength of Hercules were great, but in Will's opinion, the stamina of Atlas topped them all. He'd just rammed head-first through seven ceilings and six floors, but the only difficulty he'd experienced was a strong impulse to start coughing after he breathed in some concrete dust.
Reorienting himself, he slowly ascended up the hole he'd made. Like always, Rick's plan had come out perfectly. He'd set things up so that Will wouldn't strike any key parts of the building's superstructure as he went down. They might still have some hassle explaining why it had been necessary, but the building's owners should be able to recoup the cost of repairs from their insurance; at least, if they'd been smart enough to avoid buying the sort that classed "metahuman activity" in the same category as "acts of God".
As his head cleared the hole's opening on the eighth floor, he saw to his satisfaction that the Harlequin *had* been disabled according to plan. He looked up at Rick, who was examining the unconscious villain. "We good?" he asked.
"You did well," Rick answered, sotto voce.
With a grin on his face, Will soared up the rest of the way so that everyone on the floor could see him fully, particularly the bright white costume with the golden lightning bolt emblazoned on his chest. "And so, once again, the day is saved," he announced. "Thanks to ... CAP-tain Wonderrrr!"
"You have *got* to be kidding me," replied one of the people on the floor.
Tough crowd, thought Will.
III:
"You have *got* to be kidding me," Tara snapped, ignoring the weirdo in the white suit. "We fought her tooth and nail, and then you show up, call in an air strike, and take her out with a kick to her jaw? What the hell?"
The weirdo in the black suit turned to look up at her. His face was hidden behind a golden visor, like on the helm of a medieval knight, and his eyes were further covered by a pair of lenses mounted inside the visor. In short, she was looking down at a pair of angry red dots. It was kind of unnerving, which was probably the intention.
"The Harlequin manipulates probabilities," he answered. "As she's fond of saying, she can make million-to-one chances occur nine times out of ten. Blows against her, from an opponent of whom she's aware, won't do any sort of injury. The only way I've ever found to beat her is to distract her for a moment -- which is what the Captain's arrival did. I just knew how to beat her. You didn't."
Tara blinked. The lunatic -- Harlequin? -- had said something like that just before the lifts ...
Oh shit.
"She made the lifts malfunction, didn't she?" The woman called Katana had come up behind her, and gave voice to the question now on Tara's mind.
"Yes."
"Then why the hell aren't we *killing* her?" The words were out of Tara's mouth before she could hold them back.
"Because we don't do that, Terra." The head in the helm shook from side to side, just once. "We just don't. Not even when --" He broke off suddenly as he turned to look at Diane's body, where it was stapled to the floor. There was a moment of shocked silence before he drew himself up and dashed around the hole to where she lay.
"Heaven?" he asked, and the helmet's modulation couldn't hide the panic and confusion in his voice.
IV:
"Heaven?"
This sure is my day for mistaken identities, Diane thought as she forced her eyes open in response to his voice. "No. Like I *said*. My name is *Diane*. Same *number* of syllables. But *different* ones."
"Uh." There had been confidence in his voice earlier, but it wasn't there now.
It was the wig. She'd finally figured it out. Why hadn't she insisted on a mousy brown color or something like that? As she finally jerked the blade out of her torso -- and shuddered as the holes in her body closed instantly -- she reached up and yanked the hairpiece off her head.
"Uh," he repeated himself. "I'm ... sorry. I thought you were someone I knew."
"Yeah. Her too."
"Oh."
The awkwardness of the moment increased expotentially as a team of jet-pack equipped SWAT troopers shot up the lift tubes behind them with weapons pointed out. "FREEZE!" shouted the pointman, who might as well have had the word "Lieutenant" branded above his beady little eyes.
The black-suited guy looked right at them, and said, "Authorization Epsilon Vega Saturn Nine. Stand *down*."
Impressively, everyone but the Lieutenant automatically lowered their guns. For his part, the Lieutenant's beady eyes got beadier, and he snarled. "What? What the hell do you think you're doing? You're no --"
"I *suggest* you contact your superiors. Quickly." Diane had the strangest feeling that he was smiling behind his mask. It probably wasn't a very nice smile.
The Lieutenant snarled some more, but then turned to speak into his headset. "What?" he all-but-shrieked a few moments later. "Why didn't anyone *tell* me ..."
"What's that authorization you just used?" the white-suited guy -- Captain Wonder? -- asked as he drifted forward to join the two of them, his feet never touching the ground.
"I just let him know that we're working this case on behalf of the city government."
With a confused expression, Captain Wonder leaned in a little closer. "We are?"
"Hush."
"All right," the Lieutenant said at last, having thankfully missed the foregoing exchange. "So you're with the city, huh? Who the hell are you, then?"
"I am Knight," he said standing up fully. "These are my colleagues, Captain Wonder, Terra and Katana." Diane didn't miss the startled looks those two gave him when he said that. Apparently, their status as "colleagues" was news to them.
"And her? Who's she?" The Lieutenant didn't need to point. Of course, he *did* point.
`Knight' looked down at Diane, who was just in the process of standing up. "She's --"
"Leaving," she finished for him. "Where's the staircase? I'll show myself out. I think I've got enough change to call my P.O. ..." With that she turned and walked away towards the door with the sign marked "Staff Only" on it.
Behind her, Knight spoke quickly. "Would you excuse me for a moment? Captain, answer all his questions, please."
She could hear his footsteps coming up behind her, and she sped up in response. She'd made it halfway down the first flight of stairs before he came through the door behind her. "Wait a minute --" he called out.
"Sorry, every second that I delay in reporting my association with known felons will probably mean a more severe note in my record. I really don't want severe notes in my record."
"Will you at least tell me who you are?" He was still following her. How annoying.
"You're with the city, look it up."
"That's -- slow down, will you? -- a diplomatic fiction. Look, you helped out. I might be able to smooth things over for --"
She whirled around. "Don't you *get* it? This is the first day I've been out! And already I'm in trouble! It was a longshot for me to even get paroled, and they're not going to forgive a little oversight like this! The place got wrecked!"
"That wasn't your fault --" He started.
"They. Won't. Care!"
He stopped talking and just seemed to stare at her. Just as she was about to turn and walk away, he spoke up. "What were you in for?"
The words came almost without effort. "Murder in the second degree."
There was a long pause. "Of whom?"
*That* didn't get asked a lot. And strangely, she found herself looking away as she answered. "My grandfather."
"I see. Had he ... molested you?"
Answering yes to that would have been the easy way out, even back at the trial. But he hadn't. She was relatively sure of that. "No. He was in the act of raping my mother, that's all." She still didn't look back at him.
Another long pause, and then, "Was his last name Stagg, by any chance?"
Now she did. A second later, she got control over her face again. "Right. So you read the papers. Big deal."
"Actually, no. I just reached a conclusion based on your abilities and some ... tangential matters. You're Rex Mason's daughter, then?"
Diane flinched. "Yeah. Do me a favor and don't tell me how sorry you were to hear about him."
"I actually wasn't around back then. Quite literally. But ... listen." He reached up to lift the visor of his helmet up. He was, she supposed, quite handsome, but what got at her were his blue eyes. They seemed harder than sapphires, but there was sincerity in his expression too. "I think I can work something out so that you won't have to go back to jail."
"Why?" It just slipped out. She didn't mean, why would you help me, or even why should I trust you. She didn't really know what she meant, really.
He shrugged. "Call it a weird sense of aesthetics. Let me just make a phone call." He lifted one of his wrist-gadgets to his mouth, and began to fiddle with it.
Diane felt a vague impulse to laugh when she realized what he was using. It wasn't very hard to suppress it, though.
V:
"I think I've made my point clear," Lorraine said, leaning back in the comfortable chair in front of the Mayor's desk.
"Are you insane?" the Mayor barked, turning away from the videoscreen that was just beginning to report that the situation in the downtown district seemed to have been dealt with. "Sixty people just lost their lives!"
"It could have been six hundred, or more. My associates have been tracking the person responsible for several months now. She is, with apologies to the late Mr. Stone, a natural born killer."
"But the *property* damage --"
Her eyes bored into his. "Buildings can be rebuilt, Mr. Mayor. And the loss of life, while tragic, is much less than it could have been ... and a skillful image manipulator can make sure that the public realizes that. And that would be very good for the career of the elected official responsible for bringing in the agency that dealt with this crisis, and will deal with future crises."
His eyes dropped, and she could almost see the pretense of civic concern fall away to reveal the man's division between naked desire and fear of being caught. "Let me see if I understand this. If I give this team of yours carte blanche to operate in Opal, you'll underwrite its expenses. And ..."
"And," she picked up, "the Cheyenne Group will make the maximum legal donations towards your future campaigns and the campaigns of your underlings. As well, when you leave office, we will give you the access code for a Swiss bank account containing five hundred million American dollars." Lorraine paused to let the amount sink in a second time, and asked quietly, "Have we a deal?"
A buzz in her head let her know that Knight was signalling her for some reason. "Take a moment to think it over," she advised the sweaty politico. "I have a call to take."
One mental switch later, a hologram appeared in front of her left eye. _Yesquestion_ she sent.
_The situation has reached manageable levels, but there is a hitch_
Her eyes narrowed. _What sort of pause hitchquestion_
VI:
"Let me see if I understand you correctly. There was an additional metahuman present at the scene of this engagement, one recently released from the penal system. You have apparently promised to use our influence to keep her from being returned to that system in exchange for her joining our group. Is my summary accurate?"
The way that she she had managed to create a sound synthesizing system with enough sensitivity to produce a voice with such hinted menace was kind of amazing. "Yes, Lorraine, it's quite accurate."
There was a pause. She was probably checking some sort of facts. He smiled calmly at Diane, but it didn't seem to make a dent in her perpetual frown.
"And furthermore," Lorraine returned, "while you have been engaged in this project of rehabilitation, the local constabulary have taken the Harlequin into custody."
"What?" he snapped. "But --"
"We were supposed to do that. Yes. We were. The responsibility for what follows because we didn't is on your shoulders."
And she could make it be much colder than a conventional synthesizer could ever be, as well.
"Given that, are you still insistent on this extreme modification of our plans?"
Rick closed his eyes, and let out a hiss of breath.
"Well?"
"Yes," he answered shortly. "In fact, her presence on the team is essential. It is a deal-breaker."
"Is it."
The next few seconds were the most frightening of his entire life to that point. He was good. With the rest of this group watching his back, he would be better. But he never, ever wanted to be on the enemies list of the woman on the other side of the line, and if he pushed this too far --
"Very well. She can join. I've already set it up with the police -- instead exerting some effort to get the Harlequin transferred to our custody -- so that she can leave the scene unimpeded, and will next speak with the Parole Office. Satisfactory?"
He didn't let out a sigh of relief. Not then, not in front of either of them. "Yes. Thank you, Lorraine."
She signed off without reply.
"Well, you heard her," Rick said to Diane. "Are you with us?"
"What if I say I am," she asked, "and then just take the chance to get out of town as fast as possible?"
"That would be very foolish," he answered. "And you don't seem to be that foolish."
"All right." She closed her eyes, and sighed. "What do I do? Swear some sort of oath on the Crimson Avenger's cowl?"
"No. We leave that sort of nonsense to the other bunch. All you have to do --" He opened one of the pouches on the same wrist as his communicator, and pulled out a business card. "Just be at this location at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. If you think you might be late, call the number and we'll arrange transportation."
Diane looked down at the card, probably taking in the seaside address. Then she looked up at him. "Who are you, anyway?"
"Like I said, I am Knight." Then, moved by an impulse he could never explain, he added. "But my name is Richard Wayne."
*That* startled her. "Wayne? As in --"
He nodded once. It wasn't really surprising that her father would have told his wife and children about it.
"Then you're --"
"His son. It's complicated." He cut off her questions by just waving a hand. "I'll explain it all tomorrow. To all of you."
He had already headed up the stairs when she settled on a question she just had to ask. "And who are *we*, anyway?"
Rick smiled at her before he clamped down the visor. "We're the Outsiders. Who else would we be?"
THE END OF "The Beginning"
TO BE CONTINUED
Author's Note
This is dedicated to Mike Barr and Alan Davis, for creating "Batman and the Outsiders", the comic book that ultimately inspired this series of fanfiction as much as Shane Jayell's "Project A-Ko: DC Universe 2045".
Stick around. I've got a hell of a story to tell.
After receiving the gift of her swords, Rumiko had trained in the art and science of armed combat, but she had also studied jujutsu for a few months. That had been long enough for her to realize that she could excel in one of the areas, but not both. But it had also been long enough for her to witness some truly great masters at work.
And the fight she was witnessing at the moment would have been beyond any of them.
In a way, the black-garbed man and the one he called Harlequin reminded her more of the martial arts video programs of her childhood in the way that they fought, but faster -- as though the video was on fast-forward. She could see the strikes and the blocks, but each of them seemed to last only for an instant before the next engagement began. It was breath-taking.
"Pretty scary, huh?" asked the blonde woman at whom Rumiko had been thrown, earlier.
"Scary?"
"That there's two people in the world who are that good at it." She gestured with an elbow.
Rumiko considered this, and nodded shortly. "Yes. I think you are correct."
"I'm Terra," the other said by way of introduction.
"I am known as Katana," Rumiko responded.
"Really." Terra appeared to consider this, and then shrugged. "I guess we're neither of us very original."
Rumiko frowned and was about to ask what she meant by that.
The air was abruptly torn asunder by a tremendous roar of thunder. Almost reflexively, Rumiko covered her eyes to shield them from the blinding lightning that was surely to follow.
But there was none. And when she lifted her arm from her eyes, the Harlequin lay crumpled in front of a huge hole in the floor, with a matching one in the ceiling above it. The man had dropped to one knee and was examining his fallen opponent carefully.
"But how?" Rumiko asked, even as Terra rose to her feet and made her own observation.
"You've got to be kidding me."
II:
The speed of Mercury and the strength of Hercules were great, but in Will's opinion, the stamina of Atlas topped them all. He'd just rammed head-first through seven ceilings and six floors, but the only difficulty he'd experienced was a strong impulse to start coughing after he breathed in some concrete dust.
Reorienting himself, he slowly ascended up the hole he'd made. Like always, Rick's plan had come out perfectly. He'd set things up so that Will wouldn't strike any key parts of the building's superstructure as he went down. They might still have some hassle explaining why it had been necessary, but the building's owners should be able to recoup the cost of repairs from their insurance; at least, if they'd been smart enough to avoid buying the sort that classed "metahuman activity" in the same category as "acts of God".
As his head cleared the hole's opening on the eighth floor, he saw to his satisfaction that the Harlequin *had* been disabled according to plan. He looked up at Rick, who was examining the unconscious villain. "We good?" he asked.
"You did well," Rick answered, sotto voce.
With a grin on his face, Will soared up the rest of the way so that everyone on the floor could see him fully, particularly the bright white costume with the golden lightning bolt emblazoned on his chest. "And so, once again, the day is saved," he announced. "Thanks to ... CAP-tain Wonderrrr!"
"You have *got* to be kidding me," replied one of the people on the floor.
Tough crowd, thought Will.
III:
"You have *got* to be kidding me," Tara snapped, ignoring the weirdo in the white suit. "We fought her tooth and nail, and then you show up, call in an air strike, and take her out with a kick to her jaw? What the hell?"
The weirdo in the black suit turned to look up at her. His face was hidden behind a golden visor, like on the helm of a medieval knight, and his eyes were further covered by a pair of lenses mounted inside the visor. In short, she was looking down at a pair of angry red dots. It was kind of unnerving, which was probably the intention.
"The Harlequin manipulates probabilities," he answered. "As she's fond of saying, she can make million-to-one chances occur nine times out of ten. Blows against her, from an opponent of whom she's aware, won't do any sort of injury. The only way I've ever found to beat her is to distract her for a moment -- which is what the Captain's arrival did. I just knew how to beat her. You didn't."
Tara blinked. The lunatic -- Harlequin? -- had said something like that just before the lifts ...
Oh shit.
"She made the lifts malfunction, didn't she?" The woman called Katana had come up behind her, and gave voice to the question now on Tara's mind.
"Yes."
"Then why the hell aren't we *killing* her?" The words were out of Tara's mouth before she could hold them back.
"Because we don't do that, Terra." The head in the helm shook from side to side, just once. "We just don't. Not even when --" He broke off suddenly as he turned to look at Diane's body, where it was stapled to the floor. There was a moment of shocked silence before he drew himself up and dashed around the hole to where she lay.
"Heaven?" he asked, and the helmet's modulation couldn't hide the panic and confusion in his voice.
IV:
"Heaven?"
This sure is my day for mistaken identities, Diane thought as she forced her eyes open in response to his voice. "No. Like I *said*. My name is *Diane*. Same *number* of syllables. But *different* ones."
"Uh." There had been confidence in his voice earlier, but it wasn't there now.
It was the wig. She'd finally figured it out. Why hadn't she insisted on a mousy brown color or something like that? As she finally jerked the blade out of her torso -- and shuddered as the holes in her body closed instantly -- she reached up and yanked the hairpiece off her head.
"Uh," he repeated himself. "I'm ... sorry. I thought you were someone I knew."
"Yeah. Her too."
"Oh."
The awkwardness of the moment increased expotentially as a team of jet-pack equipped SWAT troopers shot up the lift tubes behind them with weapons pointed out. "FREEZE!" shouted the pointman, who might as well have had the word "Lieutenant" branded above his beady little eyes.
The black-suited guy looked right at them, and said, "Authorization Epsilon Vega Saturn Nine. Stand *down*."
Impressively, everyone but the Lieutenant automatically lowered their guns. For his part, the Lieutenant's beady eyes got beadier, and he snarled. "What? What the hell do you think you're doing? You're no --"
"I *suggest* you contact your superiors. Quickly." Diane had the strangest feeling that he was smiling behind his mask. It probably wasn't a very nice smile.
The Lieutenant snarled some more, but then turned to speak into his headset. "What?" he all-but-shrieked a few moments later. "Why didn't anyone *tell* me ..."
"What's that authorization you just used?" the white-suited guy -- Captain Wonder? -- asked as he drifted forward to join the two of them, his feet never touching the ground.
"I just let him know that we're working this case on behalf of the city government."
With a confused expression, Captain Wonder leaned in a little closer. "We are?"
"Hush."
"All right," the Lieutenant said at last, having thankfully missed the foregoing exchange. "So you're with the city, huh? Who the hell are you, then?"
"I am Knight," he said standing up fully. "These are my colleagues, Captain Wonder, Terra and Katana." Diane didn't miss the startled looks those two gave him when he said that. Apparently, their status as "colleagues" was news to them.
"And her? Who's she?" The Lieutenant didn't need to point. Of course, he *did* point.
`Knight' looked down at Diane, who was just in the process of standing up. "She's --"
"Leaving," she finished for him. "Where's the staircase? I'll show myself out. I think I've got enough change to call my P.O. ..." With that she turned and walked away towards the door with the sign marked "Staff Only" on it.
Behind her, Knight spoke quickly. "Would you excuse me for a moment? Captain, answer all his questions, please."
She could hear his footsteps coming up behind her, and she sped up in response. She'd made it halfway down the first flight of stairs before he came through the door behind her. "Wait a minute --" he called out.
"Sorry, every second that I delay in reporting my association with known felons will probably mean a more severe note in my record. I really don't want severe notes in my record."
"Will you at least tell me who you are?" He was still following her. How annoying.
"You're with the city, look it up."
"That's -- slow down, will you? -- a diplomatic fiction. Look, you helped out. I might be able to smooth things over for --"
She whirled around. "Don't you *get* it? This is the first day I've been out! And already I'm in trouble! It was a longshot for me to even get paroled, and they're not going to forgive a little oversight like this! The place got wrecked!"
"That wasn't your fault --" He started.
"They. Won't. Care!"
He stopped talking and just seemed to stare at her. Just as she was about to turn and walk away, he spoke up. "What were you in for?"
The words came almost without effort. "Murder in the second degree."
There was a long pause. "Of whom?"
*That* didn't get asked a lot. And strangely, she found herself looking away as she answered. "My grandfather."
"I see. Had he ... molested you?"
Answering yes to that would have been the easy way out, even back at the trial. But he hadn't. She was relatively sure of that. "No. He was in the act of raping my mother, that's all." She still didn't look back at him.
Another long pause, and then, "Was his last name Stagg, by any chance?"
Now she did. A second later, she got control over her face again. "Right. So you read the papers. Big deal."
"Actually, no. I just reached a conclusion based on your abilities and some ... tangential matters. You're Rex Mason's daughter, then?"
Diane flinched. "Yeah. Do me a favor and don't tell me how sorry you were to hear about him."
"I actually wasn't around back then. Quite literally. But ... listen." He reached up to lift the visor of his helmet up. He was, she supposed, quite handsome, but what got at her were his blue eyes. They seemed harder than sapphires, but there was sincerity in his expression too. "I think I can work something out so that you won't have to go back to jail."
"Why?" It just slipped out. She didn't mean, why would you help me, or even why should I trust you. She didn't really know what she meant, really.
He shrugged. "Call it a weird sense of aesthetics. Let me just make a phone call." He lifted one of his wrist-gadgets to his mouth, and began to fiddle with it.
Diane felt a vague impulse to laugh when she realized what he was using. It wasn't very hard to suppress it, though.
V:
"I think I've made my point clear," Lorraine said, leaning back in the comfortable chair in front of the Mayor's desk.
"Are you insane?" the Mayor barked, turning away from the videoscreen that was just beginning to report that the situation in the downtown district seemed to have been dealt with. "Sixty people just lost their lives!"
"It could have been six hundred, or more. My associates have been tracking the person responsible for several months now. She is, with apologies to the late Mr. Stone, a natural born killer."
"But the *property* damage --"
Her eyes bored into his. "Buildings can be rebuilt, Mr. Mayor. And the loss of life, while tragic, is much less than it could have been ... and a skillful image manipulator can make sure that the public realizes that. And that would be very good for the career of the elected official responsible for bringing in the agency that dealt with this crisis, and will deal with future crises."
His eyes dropped, and she could almost see the pretense of civic concern fall away to reveal the man's division between naked desire and fear of being caught. "Let me see if I understand this. If I give this team of yours carte blanche to operate in Opal, you'll underwrite its expenses. And ..."
"And," she picked up, "the Cheyenne Group will make the maximum legal donations towards your future campaigns and the campaigns of your underlings. As well, when you leave office, we will give you the access code for a Swiss bank account containing five hundred million American dollars." Lorraine paused to let the amount sink in a second time, and asked quietly, "Have we a deal?"
A buzz in her head let her know that Knight was signalling her for some reason. "Take a moment to think it over," she advised the sweaty politico. "I have a call to take."
One mental switch later, a hologram appeared in front of her left eye. _Yesquestion_ she sent.
_The situation has reached manageable levels, but there is a hitch_
Her eyes narrowed. _What sort of pause hitchquestion_
VI:
"Let me see if I understand you correctly. There was an additional metahuman present at the scene of this engagement, one recently released from the penal system. You have apparently promised to use our influence to keep her from being returned to that system in exchange for her joining our group. Is my summary accurate?"
The way that she she had managed to create a sound synthesizing system with enough sensitivity to produce a voice with such hinted menace was kind of amazing. "Yes, Lorraine, it's quite accurate."
There was a pause. She was probably checking some sort of facts. He smiled calmly at Diane, but it didn't seem to make a dent in her perpetual frown.
"And furthermore," Lorraine returned, "while you have been engaged in this project of rehabilitation, the local constabulary have taken the Harlequin into custody."
"What?" he snapped. "But --"
"We were supposed to do that. Yes. We were. The responsibility for what follows because we didn't is on your shoulders."
And she could make it be much colder than a conventional synthesizer could ever be, as well.
"Given that, are you still insistent on this extreme modification of our plans?"
Rick closed his eyes, and let out a hiss of breath.
"Well?"
"Yes," he answered shortly. "In fact, her presence on the team is essential. It is a deal-breaker."
"Is it."
The next few seconds were the most frightening of his entire life to that point. He was good. With the rest of this group watching his back, he would be better. But he never, ever wanted to be on the enemies list of the woman on the other side of the line, and if he pushed this too far --
"Very well. She can join. I've already set it up with the police -- instead exerting some effort to get the Harlequin transferred to our custody -- so that she can leave the scene unimpeded, and will next speak with the Parole Office. Satisfactory?"
He didn't let out a sigh of relief. Not then, not in front of either of them. "Yes. Thank you, Lorraine."
She signed off without reply.
"Well, you heard her," Rick said to Diane. "Are you with us?"
"What if I say I am," she asked, "and then just take the chance to get out of town as fast as possible?"
"That would be very foolish," he answered. "And you don't seem to be that foolish."
"All right." She closed her eyes, and sighed. "What do I do? Swear some sort of oath on the Crimson Avenger's cowl?"
"No. We leave that sort of nonsense to the other bunch. All you have to do --" He opened one of the pouches on the same wrist as his communicator, and pulled out a business card. "Just be at this location at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. If you think you might be late, call the number and we'll arrange transportation."
Diane looked down at the card, probably taking in the seaside address. Then she looked up at him. "Who are you, anyway?"
"Like I said, I am Knight." Then, moved by an impulse he could never explain, he added. "But my name is Richard Wayne."
*That* startled her. "Wayne? As in --"
He nodded once. It wasn't really surprising that her father would have told his wife and children about it.
"Then you're --"
"His son. It's complicated." He cut off her questions by just waving a hand. "I'll explain it all tomorrow. To all of you."
He had already headed up the stairs when she settled on a question she just had to ask. "And who are *we*, anyway?"
Rick smiled at her before he clamped down the visor. "We're the Outsiders. Who else would we be?"
THE END OF "The Beginning"
TO BE CONTINUED
Author's Note
This is dedicated to Mike Barr and Alan Davis, for creating "Batman and the Outsiders", the comic book that ultimately inspired this series of fanfiction as much as Shane Jayell's "Project A-Ko: DC Universe 2045".
Stick around. I've got a hell of a story to tell.