Authors Note: Yay! Chapter Three is up. Thanks to my readers, who have been encouraging me. This is going to be something of a cross roads chapter, not quite as fast paced as the others, but hopefully just as good.
(Pause)
Newscaster: Today marks a turning point in Steel City's fight against crime. However, it may not be for the better. A report coming out today shows that crime has reached epic proportions in all areas of the city, and police are being constantly stymied in their efforts to clean up this city. More on this after a moment. (Start song – Kansas –Carry on my Wayward Son)
(Pause)
Marked Targets
The Watchtower was the most advanced machine near the planet earth. It held weapons and shielding greater than any single country, missing only Nuclear weapons to complete its arsenal. The other amenities that lay on it's polished exterior were each enough to give any single person money for life should they ever get the chance to sell it. It was a bastion of good, and a place of both learning, and safety. It was the headquarters of the world's greatest superheroes, the Justice League of America. It was staffed by the greatest heroes, who spent their many spare hours helping others, no matter where they lie. The greatest of these, many of whom were household names among the people of earth, often came together to discuss the problems that plagued the world.
Superman, the unnamed head of the league, was one of the eight in attendance at this particular meeting. As he put his thoughts in order, his eyes swept out over the group of people he considered more than friends, his family. His eyes came to rest first and foremost on Batman, the caped-crusader, always wearing a black cape and suit, who had spent so many years of his life in search of vengeance. He had fought both beside him and against him, but despite his taciturn nature, there was no one he trusted, or respected, more. He was also the devil's advocate in most conversations, putting most of Superman's more fanciful notions to rest with ease. It was rare that they agreed on any subject – yet, the subject of tonight's meeting would be, in essence, his brain child, one that was winning ravish praise from those who were benefiting from it. It was also the one place he was the most hard nosed when it came to changes – his protégé was the nominated leader, and showed potential beyond his years, and Batman, though he would never say it aloud, fought to protect him.
Flash, however, was the first to speak. "Why are we all just sitting here? Let's go, let's go." He was fidgeting nervously, barely able to stay still even while he was at rest. He was currently the 'Fastest man on earth', able to break the sound barrier ad keep going faster still. He could vibrate fast enough to run through a wall, could read books at a pace of a book a minute, and was as impatient as he was fast. He wore a red outfit, with a single lightning bolt streaking through a circle of white on his chest. "I've got a couple of things I need to do." He looked board – though, he couldn't blame him. Flash lived life at super speed almost twenty four seven.
Wonder Woman, one of the few female superheroes in the league, rolled her eyes at that comment, having known Flash for many years. "Are you sure you don't need to go to the bathroom before we start?" Her voice sweetly rang out across the table, drawing laughter from many. She was dressed in what some would consider scanty clothing, but none of them would ever say anything of the sort to her. As one of the founding members of the League, she had prerogative over almost every other hero at the table, and she wasn't afraid to use her authority. Golden bracelets encircled her wrists, and a golden lasso encircled upon itself lay at her side. "We wouldn't want an accident, now would we?" Her voice rang out, glazing over the sarcasm.
Laughter at the table was not joined in by the Martin. A green man with no patients for humor, he was often called a man of stone, or of ice. Funny, considering he could turn into stone if he had to. "I believe we should begin our meeting." His voice was even and level, and betrayed none of the annoyance he might have felt.
"I agree." Another voice joined in, that of the man known as Green Arrow. A vigilante who had recently joined the league, he was not a regular at the table, and was not totally comfortable with his position. He, much as Batman, was normal when it came to super powers, and relied only on his wits alone. He personally believed that too many of those with powers relied on them too heavily, not on their intellect or other attributes. "I'd like to know why you guys asked me here." He fondly rubbed his bow as he sat, nervous despite his status as a member.
Their was a nod from the last member of the group – Aquaman, the king of Atlantis. He was stately in his appearance, from his long golden hair to his aqua blue eyes, and he sat with a poise that could make even Superman envious. He was toned and muscled, built from his many hours spent undersea, but had spent a fair amount of time in the Watchtower recently, despite any complaints it might have caused.
Superman nodded, and stood, prompting, if not silence, then at least a sense of quiet. "All right, everyone, let's get down to business." He pushed a button on a small device he had put in his palm, and the room darkened, almost pitch black, and a large screen turned on. On the monitor, A group of oddly assorted teens stood, each unique in their own way. First and foremost stood a well built, if slight, teenage boy, wearing a stylized suit, red green and yellow, with the letter 'R' stitched across his heart. The next was a Young woman with fiery red hair and hazelnut skin, her eyes and hands burning a bright green as she hovered above the ground. After her, another girl stood, cloaked in a cloak that was almost black. Beside her, a green teen boy, with pointed ears and a slightly cocky look across his face, stood grinning wildly. Finally a Large, African American young man stood, half his body fitted with cybernetic parts, stood, his right arm converted into a cannon of some sort. They stood overlooking a tower shaped like a 'T' that stood on an island slightly away from the nearby city. At once, almost everybody knew what the topic of the evening's discussion would be about. "First off, I'd like to thank Batman for coming up with this idea to begin with. The 'Teen Titans', as they've decided they should be called, have helped clean up one of the toughest cities in America."
"For those of you who aren't familiar with the Titans," He continued in a firm manner, "Let me give you a run down. Robin," he pointed to the first, "Starfire, Raven, Beast Boy, and Cyborg are all teenagers, and about a year ago, they met for the first time. About a month later, they came to Batman and asked both his blessing, and his help, in starting up a new organization. It would be one that would base themselves out of Jump City, and would be there to support each other." Superman turned slightly and grinned at Batman. "That was when the idea was first brought up. Surprisingly, this new team, the Titans, have drastically reduced the crime rate in the city, and they've managed not to kill each other. From what Flash told me, that in and of itself is a miracle. With the help of Wayne enterprises, we built the Titan tower, and it's been a symbol that has most citizens of Jump City feeling safer than ever before."
"They've handled super villains and ordinary criminals, with the police feeling like they're kept in the loop. In fact, the City is, in some ways, doing better than any other City we as a whole are covering." He shrugged at the comment, looking out over some faces that were doubtful. "Tonight, however, we've come up with another idea, one that I think needs to be voted on." A second click on his little device brought up another scene – Steel City. "This is Steel City. Crime here is at a nationwide high, and the police are both swamped and corrupt. Truthfully, none of us have the resources necessary to cover such an area, and we're hard pressed as is. Recently, however, we," He said, pointing his hand at Batman, "Were given an idea by the leader of the Titans, Robin. He had come up with a new idea, and I personally feel it is a very, very good one." Superman stopped and signaled for Batman to continue for him, seating himself in his usual chair.
Batman stood with a flowing grace, and once again the scene changed. This one got the attention of both Aquaman and Green Arrow – it had their protégé's in it. All were charging into battle, and some photographer had gotten a snapshot of them. With a quiet fervor, Batman began to speak. "Bumblebee, the girl with the wings, Speedy, the boy with the bow, and Aqualad, the boy in the spandex," At that their was a few laughs, though Aquaman glared at them, "All of these teenagers are right now living in Steel City. Currently they're looking for the super villain Brother Blood, but once that's done, what then?" He smiled, though it held no warmth. "Robin, almost a week ago, came to me and told me of his little idea. Quite bold, I think, and more than likely to succeed. To put it bluntly, Robin, as well as the rest of his team, believe that a second team of titans, or 'Titans East' group should be formed." That got the attention of everybody in the room, and murmuring soon began to escalate. Without stopping to ask for silence, Batman continued on, overriding any voices that chose to speak. "It was discussed by Superman and I, and we both agree that the idea has merit. So," His smile reappeared for another moment, "We've brought this matter to your attention, for discussion. Are their any questions?"
"Who would lead this new team?" Flash spoke before anybody else, earning him a few glares, most heatedly from Aquaman and the Green Arrow. "I mean, have they even been asked if they want to do this? Robin was nominated by a team vote, and that team simply fell into place. We'd be trying to force a team together, one that may only last as long as we keep them in sight. Shouldn't we ask rather than tell?" He shrugged his shoulders, not fidgeting any more. His attention was grabbed, and he had no plans to let it slip any time soon.
Superman stood to take that particular question. "We're not talking about forcing them into this, Flash. We want to ask them to try this out, and if it works, we'll have another team of Titans in training." He spoke calmly, referring to the fact that the first team had often been called the 'Justice League Academy' by some news agencies. "As for leadership, Robin suggested Speedy, Beast Boy suggested Aqualad, and Cyborg suggested Bumblebee. So as for leadership, we're not entirely sure either." He shrugged. "Right now, we are making this up on the fly."
"So it's just going to be these three?" Wonder Woman said, her face focused. "Isn't that a little slim?" She ignored the glare that Aquaman gave her, knowing that she had wounded his fatherly pride in his protégé.
"We do have a couple of other people we're planning to suggest to them." Batman spoke up, taking charge again. "Hot Spot and Wilderbeast are both possibilities, though they'd need to be asked as well. Right now, I can't think of any problems that they might have with joining a team like this."
Finally one of the two father figures was able to ask a question. "Ahem." Green Arrow burst in, catching attention. "Who is this Brother Blood, and what exactly has Speedy managed to get himself into?" He noticed a few pointed stares in his direction, but didn't back down. If Speedy was in over his head, Green Arrow would be going their just to chew him out. They might have only recently separated, but he wouldn't ever let the boy he had raised up get too deep into trouble. Old habits died hard.
There were a few pointed stares going around the table, and after a minute, Superman spoke again. "I guess you two are going to need a better explanation…"
(Pause)
A single shaft took Speedy almost fifteen minutes to make and slide into its head. Each of his arrows was different, and each was quietly unique. He spent a good portion of his day making about twenty shafts, and he could double it if necessary. He was meticulous in his obsession, and he produced, and used, only the best of the best. His life had become dedicated to fighting crime, and he was good at what he did. Which, he had to admit, was why his two new counterparts made him feel so crazy at times. They just didn't seem to understand that he needed time to make his arrows in peace. Peace, sadly, which was the last thing that he was able to get when they were around.
Karen was much as the name she had chosen for her guise – a bumblebee, flighty and always moving or working. The only moments she wasn't doing something was when she ate or slept, and at times he wondered if she even did that. Her energy was both engaging and exhausting, and it made the whole house feel alive. It was something that hadn't happened for years, and while a piece of him felt she was hoarding all of his spare time, he truthfully had enjoyed himself far more since her entering the household. She seemed to make everything more vibrant, and her flaring temper added color to his life.
Garth was far more subdued, choosing to simply focus on things of a less disturbing nature, and keeping more secluded from both him and Karen. He tended to be quiet enough, but he had his own issues that didn't quite sit with him. His antagonism against eating fish, his mini crusades against crimes of nature, and his love of water still managed to be confusing. He practically was a vegetarian, and had become livid when he had gotten a couple of pieces of fried fish. He had ignored his roaring protests, and Garth had stormed out into the night, coming back in the morning, still cranky. Arthur had never really figured that one out, but he had decided not to eat any more fish – at least, not in fish boy's presence. He was trying to keep peace in the house, and starting a fight in his own house was out of the question. His insurance was high enough as it was.
Speak of the devil… The thought had barely crossed his mind when Garth showed his face once more, his expression tired, but far less petulant than the previous evening. He was disheveled and scruffy, but that was nothing new for someone who had woken up at five in the evening. "Good morning, sleepyhead. Catch enough beauty sleep?" Arthur's voice was filled with sarcasm as he refocused his attention on his current arrow. He simply could not afford to lose focus at this phase of the operation.
Garth was probably going to say something else, but another voice chimed in before he could, making her presence known. "I don't think he can ever get enough of it to catch up to you." Her voice was filled with a jibbing humor, one that often stood their. Arthur had come to realize that it was both a challenge from her, one that she felt had to be won, and a protective measure, to try and keep people far enough away as to prevent an eventual pain. That, of course, led to one of two conclusions: either she didn't want to hurt anybody, or she didn't want anybody to hurt her. From the feelings he had picked up, he was fairly certain that it was the latter. "Then again, if he put a little more time into a somewhat more constructive action, instead of running off at night, maybe we could change that into an organized search." Karen was obviously going for a rise out of Garth, something that didn't come easy from the calm, collected teen.
He ignored both of their comments, much to Arthur's surprise, and simply made his way to the bathroom, turning on the shower and starting to hum loud enough for both of them to hear. "Spoilsport." Karen's word sounded both sulky and petulant, but that didn't last long. Instead, it became somewhat challenging, as she homed in on a new target. "So, what about you? Up to getting your butt kicked in a quick game of chess?" Arthur could hear her grinning from where he sat, trying desperately to keep himself focused on his arrow work.
He shook his head slightly, signaling his lack of desire to do anything besides what he was doing as he spoke. "No, I'm good." His voice was almost brooding, but held no malice. He tried not to let himself be drawn into a conversation – he knew that it would end up stopping him cold for at least an hour. And he was behind from last week alone, to say nothing about his slowly dropping totals. He refused to use anything else besides his own personally hand carved shafts, and with his use at almost a dozen a day, he often found he was coming closer and closer to needing to dip into his reserves. "Thanks for asking though." He still tried to remain polite, trying not to give her an opening.
It soon became apparent that she had seen one anyways as she continued to press the question. "What, not interested in loosing another game? I'd be willing to let you win if you were a good boy." She said sweetly, moving in closer – he noticed mainly because she blocked the light and obstructed his view of the shaft he was working on. "Come on, it'll be tons of fun!" She was trying to sound persuasive, but her dogged persistence was what was really wearing him down. "I mean, you can make arrows any time. What's the harm in a little fun now and again?" She did her best to sound innocent as she spoke, and it was hard for Arthur not to snort – he doubted she had ever been the innocent type, and likely she had driven her mother off the deep end with her constant nattering.
Not that he would ever say that out loud. She was imbued with strength that was unnatural, and her ability to shrink down and hide meant it would never be safe to really speak freely about her anywhere. Instead, he let his attention turn back to her, looking up to see her face. Her face was pulled into an obscenely empty look, having all the charm of a live snake to him. Not as if it wasn't pretty, but he recognized a put on when he saw it. "Karen…" He started, sounding tired even to himself. A moment later, he stopped and sighed, shaking his head slightly. Are you going to become your mentor? Or are you going to live, like you claimed you would? The thought flowed through his mind in an instant, and a few instant flashes of memory blew through his mind. He looked back up at her chocolate face and smiled an actual genuine smile. "Can I be white?" His voice had changed in timber as well.
"Sure, Arthur." She smiled too, this time a true smile, not the vapid expression of a moment ago, and gestured over to the small chess table he owned. He tossed the quiver on the couch – he didn't have the heart to deal with it today anyways – and walked over, sitting opposite Karen. It took only a moment to position the pieces, and then the game began. He moved a pawn, and then watched as she responded in kind. Soon their pieces had moved further towards the middle of the board, and a confrontation was brewing.
"So Karen, what really happened at the H.I.V.E. Academy?" His voice wasn't all that strong, and it was neutral, but he didn't bother looking up at her as he considered his next move. He knew better than to push with her – if she was going to give up any information, it would be her decision to share it. He moved a pawn into a more defensive position after a moment of contemplation, and then specified his question. "I mean, what was it like their?" He looked at her slightly, and noticed the uneasy look on her face.
After a moment she started to slowly speak. "It was…" She looked down and frowned, then moved a bishop out into the open, leaving it defended by a rook. "It was the darkest place I've ever been to." She sighed, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "Their were so many different things happening their. A school dedicated totally to the training of villains, and it was almost as bad as some prisons I've been to. They had some people who shouldn't have been their – Gizmo, for example, he was just too young for any form of 'Training', especially the kind they had there. Even if he had the I.Q. of Albert Einstein, no eleven year old kid needs to be around so much evil." She looked down at Arthur, and he was amazed at how worn looking his eyes were. Their seemed to be years of age in her eyes that he had never seen before. "And some of them were just there because they don't have anywhere else to go. Then there was the training – special classes for everybody where they taught you how to fight, how to be a criminal, from lock picking to fighting against other super powered people. Of course, everyone that was there was just one more piece of a giant puzzle." Her smile picked up a bitter twist as she grabbed one of the pawns she had captured earlier and tossed it into the air. "Just another pawn to be used in a grand game." She set the piece down beside the board once more and looked to Arthur, waiting for him to take the next move.
He moved his Queen out for the first time, moving into a better striking position, but his attention was elsewhere now. "A pawn on Brother Blood's chess board." He said out loud, mainly to himself. Karen looked pensive but didn't say anything. Blood was a sensitive topic, though Arthur didn't know quite why. However, he had long since decided that he wouldn't leave the question unasked – it was just too important to simply let go. "What's he like anyways?" His voice was inquisitive, but his eyes were locked on her face.
The emotions that flitted across her face moved too fast to be defined. Her eyes flashed, and for a moment, he thought she was going to say something to him, something brutal. However, the fire in her eyes seemed to dim after the brief flash, and her face changed to a more withdrawn, wearier appearance. "He was the most brilliant man I've ever met – bar none. He could look at any problem, weather engineering, bio-organic, or mathematical and pull it apart, solving it in an instant. His voice was almost hypnotic, easy to listen to, soothing and calm. He was a pillar of strength – only he was filled with the most corrupt filth you could ever imagine." Her voice changed to something more brutal, her anger and hatred coming through whatever emotional guards she had put up. The look on her face had changed too, and her attention was a long ways away from the chess board, focused instead on a time far distant. "He enjoyed –Enjoyed! – hurting people. He likes to hear the screams of the people he hurt, and usually recorded his sessions with any students he had sent in for disciplinary actions. He liked to hurt people just to make them 'better', he says, and he is as cruel with his mental processes as he is with his fists, feet, or any other part of his body. He believes he is the only person able to create a perfect world – and, of course, he is the only one worthy of ruling this so called utopia." She stopped, looking down for a minute and shuddering. "The things he liked to do… there were other things, but I don't think I need to get into that. And his eyes… They're still something that I don't like to remember." She stopped and stared at her hands, unable to continue. Quietly, to himself, Arthur wondered how he had managed to get Karen to open up so much.
Both of them jumped as the bathroom door slammed open, a fully dressed Garth walking out into the living room. He seemed a little peeved, though Arthur didn't know why. I wonder if it has something to do with the fish tacos? The thought flittered through his mind, even as Garth spoke. "Arthur, Karen, I'm going to go ahead and head out. I'll see you later this evening, okay?" He looked towards them, his black eyes giving Arthur the desire to shiver.
"Okay by me." Karen got her reply in first, shrugging her shoulders as she moved out one of her bishops. "We'll probably head out after this game, so don't get too far." She looked down at the board again and frowned, her attention, and heart, back in the game once more.
"Yeah, fine." Arthur smiled and turned back to the game himself, watching out of the corner of his eye as Garth left. He let his attention slip for a moment then moved a Knight out. As soon as he let go of the piece, however, he regretted the movement. He knew he had just put a piece out in a position that was unguarded, and he was about to loose it. He was not disappointed, as one of her pawns was moved, sweeping the knight away. He watched as she sighed, her attention away from the board once again, and he found himself a little more sure this time as he tried to figure out what bothered her. "Still worried about Juan and Jose?" He asked, his voice inquiring. The twins had been on everybody's mind recently, their child like antics and crazy stunts more like regular ten year old kids that they should have been.
Almost four days ago, Officer Sampson had called them with the news that the troublesome twins had disappeared, after a social worker had tried to split them up into different homes. Neither would ever agree to it, and told her so. When they had tried to enforce their ideas on the boys, they had grabbed each others hand and taken off at mach speed. No sight had been since that time, and Karen had found herself worried about the two, who had attached themselves to her whenever she had come by. She had found herself oddly attached to them as well – and, he had to admit, he liked the kids too. Hence, it was no surprise that all three of the teens had found their thoughts occupied by a pair of kids who had made them smile with their antics. It's always good to remember who you're fighting for.
Her face became softer, and she spoke softly as well. "Yeah, I am. I can't help it – I just think about them getting into another situation like that…" She trailed off, unsure of how to continue, and Arthur nodded his head. It had been one of those weeks, and they had been fairly busy – minor criminals, bank robbers, and the occasional madman with a weapon – and they would likely be busy again tonight once more.
She moved, though it was well guarded still, but a plan began to develop within Arthur's head. Maybe I can still win…
(ZZZ… err, Pause)
Mendoza found his new partner, Armando, disgusting in every way possible. The man had no style, no flair, and most importantly, no personal hygiene. The stench that emanated from him, and most of his gang as well, was one of stale beer, smoke, and other assorted odors that seemed to cling to the very surface of their beings. Had it not been for the treaties both had formed with Brother Blood, ceasing all hostilities, this would have likely become one of the largest gang wars ever to be seen on the streets of Steel City. Bad blood was on both sides of the line, and the two groups, armed to the teeth, knew that a single itchy trigger finger could still start a bloodbath for either side. However, to try and prevent such hostilities, the leaders of both gangs, Armando and Mendoza both, had met together in the middle of the room. It's the only way that you'll ever get me this close to him again – with the threat of deadly force. His thoughts were angry and burning as he tried his best not to breathe in. "You know what you're supposed to be doing, right?" He tried not to sound as he felt, and hoped the stupidity that he saw in the man would help dull any insult some might have felt. Now was not the time to get into a fight, not with three teenaged superheroes less than three blocks distant.
"I'll get my end of the job done. You just worry about yourself." His smile had little sincerity in it, and he grabbed a chain as if to emphasize his point. Mendoza only shook his head, knowing that the man before him was certain he could stop a teenage superhero without resorting to guns to try and finish things. He, on the other hand, had outfitted his gang with weaponry to the teeth, bullets enough to riddle the house well enough that a termite wouldn't be able to sink his teeth into it. And just in case, he had brought the two other teens who remained in the building a little drink. He called it overkill, but a little piece of C-4, he was certain, would kill everybody – well, if they were still alive, at that point. Personally, he was fairly certain that by the morning, he wouldn't need to worry about his smelly 'friend' here.
With a flourishing bow, just to instill his distaste of the man just that much greater, he spoke to him for the last time. "Well then, I think me and my men need to be getting to work then." He turned away, and almost immediately Armando did the same, his loud, raucous voice echoing in the alley they stood in. His large group of men – at least three times the size of his force, the only reason he had never made a move up against him in the first place – quickly began to filter away into the night, moving like the wind. They had set up a spot to meet this so called Aqualad, and it would likely be quite a party. Knowing that he was going to be up against two teenaged super powered freaks, he had decided on a wiser approach. Instead of simply rushing in, to be easily taken care of, he had chosen to bombard the house, first in a storm of lead, then in a raging fire. He was almost certain that it would be enough, and if it wasn't… well, he would cross that bridge, and burn it, when it came.
(Space... the final frontier…)
Garth held little love of the paved streets and alleyways of Steel City. Yes, they were well laid out and placed, and yes, the city took plenty of time to keep their roads preserved and pristine. It was the people, however, that put such a foul taste into his mouth. Their were bundles that simply sat their, sheltered by newspaper alone, too broken to try again, the druggies, breathing with added stress, ready to kill for their next high, and – worst of all – the children who were used and discarded, sitting listlessly while life surrounded them, uncaring. It was a sight to sear the soul, one that was forever imprinted upon his mind, wherever he went. It made him as angry as Drug dealers made Karen – though he controlled it far better. She was just a little too jumpy most of the time.
If this were Atlantis, He thought to himself moodily, the moment Aquaman saw any of this, he'd fix the situation. Children on the street! What worse can you do to destroy a people? His thoughts held a bitter tone, a piece of his childhood that had been engrained into his very core. Life in Atlantis had given him an outlook upon the world that had stunned Karen, and left her in the air trying to explain the differences between them. Not that it had helped him understand any better. The surface people can be so… cruel. He shook his head and sighed, feeling all the more ready to head to the ocean for a quick dip. He looked up, and found his eyebrow going up slightly. Okay, this is going to be one of those days, isn't it?
At the head of the alley a group of six large, burly men stood, an extremely fat man in the lead. Each held a weapon of some sort, from a chain to a pipe, and even a broke beer bottle. They stood grinning in front of him, and they looked to be in the state of mind that he had previously referred to – high. They were bleary eyed and one of the group was stumbling, slight chuckles emanating from him. You've got to be kidding me. Only six? I've had better fights in bars. It was a thought that, if nothing else, was true. He started to walk forward, but stopped and looked behind him as a noise caught his attention. Okay, maybe this gang isn't as stupid as it looks. Their were six more gang members behind him, each glaring at the other, trying to figure out who had caused the noise, still moving forward despite the fact that their cover was blown. They moved with much more caution, and as he looked forward, the group in front formed up into a much more trained group. It took only a moment to realize that they had been pretending to be incapacitated, and only a moment more before Aqualad made his move.
With a practiced thought, Aqualad slid into an almost meditative state, reaching out to the water that flowed around him. He hadn't realized this skill until after he had come to the surface world, but since that time, he had discovered the power to move water with just a thought. He did that, sending a wave of water that came rushing out of no where, and washed four of the people in front of him to the left. One of the group managed to hold his ground, catching a hold of the wall, and as the water stopped he looked up growling. It turned into a yelp a moment later, as Aqualad rushed forward, faster than the man had believed possible, and punched him in the face, sending him back almost three feet, leaving him in a crumpled heap. He spun around as the other six rushed up behind him, his right leg extending at the same time, and kicked one of the six in the chest, putting him out of the fight, if only for a moment. Then he was swarmed, and found himself on the defensive, his hands darting up and down, trying to cover every opening. He kicked off of another fighter and flipped backwards, looking out over the small parking lot he had moved into. Five of the original group were standing once more, ready to go on the offensive, and from the corner of his eye, he could see more people joining the ranks, obviously part of a well orchestrated plan. After a quick thought, he jumped away from the gang members who were still trying to get a lick in and made a run for a nearby fire escape. He jumped to the ladder, using a car to add the extra inches he would have normally missed, and swung himself up onto the ladder, climbing it with an able hand. Moments later he stood on a small platform, smirking down at the gang bangers below him. "Giving up already?" He gloated, trying to goad them into action.
They yelled rather obscene language at him as they began to move up the ladder as well, and he stood his ground, knowing that they would only be able to attack him one at a time at this point – a fight they could never win. As the first one climbed up to his level he struck out, catching him off guard, and in the chest. He flew back slightly and he grabbed him and threw him to the other side of the grated platform. "Stop!" A voice rang out over the gathered crowd, and most of the gang members came to a halt, all save one who was almost up on the causeway. Aqualad kicked him once in the head, sending him down into a heap, and then spun to face the indecisive horde. He looked down at the man who had spoke, a man who was both wide and statuesque, dripping from the blast of water that had soaked him a minute ago. He was surprised as the man grinned up at him, but he didn't show it. At least, he did not until the man spoke. "We can wait him out. It's not like our friends are sitting in a death trap." His voice had the sickly sweet tone of mocking, but the real shock was the glare that came from his eyes.
Often, people didn't have the nerve to look him in the eye. It was a side effect of having eyes that were white, surrounded by a sea of darkness. Most people couldn't, or wouldn't, look at his eyes, and it was something that had always made him respect those who could, at least most of the time. The man standing before him, however, was looking him straight in the eye, without the slightest bit of fear or doubt, and at that moment, he realized something. He's not lying. The thought struck him like a physical blow and he was almost certain that the man before him could see it as well. His grin widened as Aqualad's eyes grew wide once more shock catching him off guard once more.
The shock moved into his eyes as Aqualad's arms shot forward, sending a wave of water spraying across the lot. Everyone was both distracted and blinded by the oncoming fluid, leaving not a single soul to notice him as he leapt down, his body taunt and controlled. He landed on his feet and lashed out with his fist, striking with the speed of a cobra, landing a crushing blow on one person's jaw. He wasn't sure if it broke bone, but he was too engrossed with his thoughts – and fears – to notice. Idiot! Of course they would set up both attacks simultaneously! Speedy and Bumblebee are probably in over their heads, and you're out here playing around! He dropped down into a crouch and lashed out with his right foot, spinning around and catching a group, sending all but one of them to the ground. He grabbed the last one as he started to fall, and with a strength that belayed his size, he threw the man into another group of people, wading out into the thick of things without a care for himself. He had to finish this – and fast. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they needed him.
(Hey, Macarena.)
Arthur couldn't believe his luck, having lost yet another game, if closely, to Karen. She had proven a far more devious than he had thought she would be, and had underestimated her at the last moment. However, he had moved off into the kitchen after the game and began a little clean up, getting ready to head out into the night. He couldn't leave the house a pigsty, and cleaning was something that he did whenever he had a spare moment. "So Karen," He said, calling out across the rooms, "Where do you plan on going tonight? Anywhere special in mind?" his voice was softer than usual, some what subdued by his recent loss, but he wasn't simply cringing whenever he heard her speak. Not yet, at least – or ever, if I have anything to say about it. He thought quietly as she started to speak back.
"I really didn't have anything planned. I was just going to hoof it." She sounded nonchalant, as she did much of the time when she wasn't in her 'hero mode' as he liked to call it. Oddly, he wasn't quite sure which side of her showed more of her real personality – the frigidly serious, dedicated side, or the energetic, almost playful side. Both seemed to have their pros and cons, but he had yet to figure the two apart. It almost seemed like she was Bipolar- which, of course, he knew she wasn't. She just was missing a few of the symptoms, though she did have the duality issues going on it seemed. At least, from his perspective, she did. Her voice was still just as self assured as she continued talking, walking right over his thoughts. "What about you? Anywhere you want to go to tonight?" Her voice was smooth and calm, and she sounded content – a rare occurrence. "Any particular hot spot you'd like to visit? Or patrol, for that matter? We can't spend all of our time searching for Blood." She was walking, he could hear it. The sound her boots made was distinguishable, and her gait was so determined and pronounced that no one could confuse it with anybody else.
Arthur grabbed a quiver he had set aside earlier, spinning it around onto his back with a quick, practiced motion, then drew out one arrow to inspect it. He stared down the shaft and made sure that their were no blemishes or warping occurring, then started to look at the head of the arrow. "Well, there are a few places that come to mind." He spun the arrow around his finger like a baton, checking its weight and balance, and then with a practiced flick, slid the thing back into his quiver. "The watering hole down on Viridian Street is one place that usually has information around, if we find it's less… reputable members." He felt a grimace twist over his face, but didn't say anything out loud. It wasn't something he liked to do – pump drunks for information – but every other lead had dried up at this point. In fact he was beginning to wonder if Karen's leads had been incorrect – a false trail of sorts. If that was true, then they had spent far too long helping him – even if he had needed, and still needed, their help.
The sound of Karen's footfalls stopped for a moment, then began to return up the hall, obviously having retrieved her weaponry, the 'B' shaped 'stingers' that were so dangerous and destructive. "Sure, let's try that out. Truthfully, I'm kind of out of ideas. I mean, we haven't heard a peep out of Blood for so long that I'm starting to wonder if he just quietly slipped away this time." Worry was tinged in her voice as she moved closer, lessening the volume of her speaking as she walked to the living room. He felt a frown forming on his face, realizing that she had likely been having the same thoughts he had been thinking about. If that was true, it was possible that she would be talking to him soon about 'moving on'. It left somewhat of a sour taste in his mouth, but he stayed quiet for the moment. He had no desire to start anything with the two of them right now, especially when his current position on the matter was so tenuous.
He shrugged to himself and put his attention to the fletching around the base of the arrows. He checked to see if any was peeling or if the fletching was askew. His attention, however, was soon picked up by a car driving into his driveway – without any lights off. Strange… The thought went through his head even as alarms started to silently go off in his head. He frowned and looked out, his eyes narrowed to a thin line. Something just wasn't right, though he couldn't put his finger on it. "It's a date, then." His voice rang out with a humor he didn't feel, and he ignored her following groan. "Hey, Bumblebee…" He called out, his voice hesitant, and his use of her Hero name calling attention to the fact that he felt something wasn't quite right.
That was when the first gunshots rang out.
Speedy was down on his knees as soon as the first flash caught his eyes, his hands darting to his bow and arrow with a natural grace. He pulled two arrows out of the woodwork – special ones that were stashed throughout his house. The red tips denoted that they were for use in this type of emergency - a surprise attack on the house. It was only a moment later, when he heard a body hit the floor, that another thought struck his mind, one that chilled his blood. "BUMBLEBEE!" His voice was strong enough to rise over the din of repeated gunfire, and the sound of splintering wood and breaking glass was enough to set his teeth on edge. As the chaos seemed to slow for a moment, he stood up and took a shot, sending a pair of arrows out into the surrounding crowd. Both burst into flame, and he saw, even as he threw himself into a roll that moved him closer to the living room, a line of gang members, almost all armed with guns, surrounding the house for as far as the eye could see. We're in trouble. The thought flickered through his mind as the sound of weapons fire started up once more in earnest. He crawled down the hall, not daring to get to his feet, until he reached the living room.
It was a mess unlike any that the house had ever seen before. Wood, plaster, dry wall, and glass was scattered every direction, covering both the floor and the surrounding furniture. Most of the furniture had been damaged by stray bullets, ripped apart carelessly and willfully by the band members that stood around the house. As the gunfire came to a hesitant stop, with orders being shouted outside loudly, he saw Bumblebee, her body limp, and blood smeared on her head. Without a thought for his own health, he scrambled over to her, grabbing her and putting his hands over the bleeding. It took a moment, but he felt relief when he realized that it was only a scratch on her head – a grazed bullet, more than likely, had put her out of commission. He made sure she was breathing, and then looked up apprehensively, knowing that it wasn't over. He started to pick her up when the attack moved into its second phase – as a ball of burning gasoline flew through a window and began to ignite the surrounding area. It was the first of many, and soon the house was ablaze, filled with the heat of perdition, and smoke enough to make Speedy cough.
He knew almost at once that the house was lost. Without hesitating for an instant, he began to drag Bumblebee's lifeless body towards the garage. Once inside, he set her down quickly and gently, then rushed over to where his tool set was and threw it aside, revealing a trap door. Moving as fast as he could, and knowing that every second counted, he pulled it open, letting the stale, unused air rush out into the burning blaze that had been his house. A moment later he was dragging Bumblebee inside, closing the hole behind him with the press of a button, one that shut it with a solid steel plate. Six inches thick, and reinforced with Kevlar and other materials, it would hold against almost anything that could be thrown at it. A second button turned on a separate air supply, and a moment later he was breathing freely – if not in his mind, than at least physically. He clambered into his personal bunker, where his largest supply of arrows had been stashed, and prayed that the air conditioning would be enough to keep them from being baked alive.
(Pray for mercy…)
Another grunt took a dive, even as the leader of the so-called gang began to attempt a hasty retreat, trying to escape from a situation gone wrong. Aqualad had shown no mercy when the discovery of his friends' imminent danger became apparent, and only two others remained conscious, both of whom had stayed out of the fight earlier. However, that didn't save them from injury, as Aqualad stormed through like a bolt from the heavens. He grabbed one mans fist as it swung towards him, spun him around, and kicked him in the seat of his pants, sending him sprawling head first into the road. The other launched a spinning kick at him, but he had been trained far too well to even let such a trick phase him. Crouching slightly, allowing the leg to pass overhead, he struck out, his fist landing a blow in the man's lower extremities, leaving him a quivering pile of moans and limp flesh. That left the gang leader, who was now taking off, though not very fast at all. Aqualad moved in pursuit, catching up to him in a moment and catching him by his collar. With an almost casual flick of his wrist, he sent the man into a nearby wall, spinning him around at the same, leaving him face to face with the teenage superhero's wrath.
He sneered, fear in his eyes and a shrill sound to his voice, and glared at him, unwilling to act even the slightest bit sorry for his actions. "You're too late!" He yelled out to him, his spittle flying out into Aqualad's face. "They're dead, you -!" His monologue was cut short as a knee entered his gut, sucking all of the air from his lungs, and a moment later a flurry of stars appeared before him as he was punched in the face. Aqualad put him out of mind the moment, focusing on the more immediate problem – getting to his friends before it was too late. Ignoring the flashing lights approaching behind him, he began to run towards Speedy's house, only just resisting the urge to scream out their names. He ran full out, his legs crying out for oxygen as he began to diminish the distance between the two places.
The city seemed a blur as he ran, the fast food and shopping centers, the high class homes, the seemingly endless supply of cheep, low class living apartments, all seeming to be one as he rushed in. More than anything else, he was focused, his nerves shot and his feelings taunt. He felt the pain enter his legs and arms, but pushed through it, focusing through the fiery eruption in his body, as his mentor had trained him to. When he had taught him how to swim, he had found himself in almost constant pain in the beginning. It had taken a lot of time, but he had learned how to push on until he could go no further. He continued through the city still, ignoring the looks from ordinary citizens and police and criminals alike. Wide eyed stares and narrowed glares received equal attention – none at all.
At last the house came into view, just as a couple of cars sped by. The faces within should have caught his attention, but there was something else on his mind. The house was literally blazing, roaring high with flickering orange, red, and yellow flames. Even as he saw fire trucks and ambulances driving up, he knew that it was beyond their abilities. He continued to run closer, even as they began to spray the measly amount of water upon the blaze. He recognized Officer Sampson's worried face as he drew closer, and saw her turn towards him, but he was already reaching inside himself for the answer to the current problem. Dipping onto the nearby supply of water, he extended both of his hands towards the blaze, barely noticing the bursting water mains and the surprise on the faces of the firemen as their hoses ran dry, and instead focused on forcing as much water onto the flames as he could. With a steady hand, unwearied by the fighting earlier, he doused the flames as best he could. Yet it was not enough to stop the fire, at least not any time soon. The flames were too high, the heat too intense, and it had simply been going for too long. To stop something of this size, it would take a much larger quantity of liquid…
He let his arms drop for a moment, but sunk deeper into his concentration. He barely noticed Holly walk up beside him, and wouldn't have if she hadn't spoken. "There was nothing you could have done…" She said, trailing off, taking his shoulder in an attempt to pull him back. She sat there for a moment, and then her grip tightened slightly as she felt a tiny tremor. He smiled, just a little, anticipating the shock he was about to give everybody, and then let his body move once more. He raised his hands above his head, calling upon the gathered water to heed his command. A moment later, a deluge of water, a monumental spout, came flying up out of the ground, ready to drench everyone and everything nearby. With strain apparent, he thrust the living pond on top of the house, leaving a waterfall of water pouring down from above, quenching even the strongest of flames, and putting out the hottest of coals.
The house seemed to dissolve under the effect of the deluge, but a skeletal system remained in place, protected from the fire by layers of other combustible material. All was blackened and charred, but he couldn't help himself. He rushed in, calling out for the friends that had been within. "SPEEDY!" His voice was strong and loud, ringing out across the charred husk before him. Little hope remained, but in the hero business, he knew better than to take anything for granted. Stranger things had happened, and often did in the line of work they were in. "BUMBLEBEE!" Another voice sprang through his mind, another friend whom he might have lost, and another twinge of guilt at having stormed out into the night this evening. The thought resonated throughout his soul, driving him on through the murky evening light. He stumbled to where the room Bumblebee had used was, dropping to his knees to search for any signs of remains. He could see none, and he found himself at a loss as he continued to seek some means of evidence. He moved into what had been Speedy's room, then back into the living room, but had found nothing. It was when the other searchers had moved onto the area that he finally found something.
His foot was what bumped into the communicator, but even after being burnt to a crisp, the outer casing was recognizable from any distance. The once yellow case, with the bold letter T insignia upon its cover, was now a piece of scrap, and presumably its owner beside it. His hand dropped to the casing, even as his own went to his communicator, pushing down on the dumb thing. He could almost here the musical chime as it sang forth, a eulogy that only he could hear. He felt like crying, yet not even a single tear would come to his eye. Instead of the multi pronged emotions that had plagued him only moment ago, deadness seemed wrapped around his heart, his mind torn from the surrounding proceedings. A moment later, his own dumb communicator rang, and acting on instinct, he opened it up and flipped it on.
"Aqualad? Where are you?" A familiar voice broke his introspection and he felt a rush of emotion – unidentifiable at this point – fill him once more. Speedy At least he's alive. He couldn't believe it for a moment, and sheer surprise managed to keep his mouth open for a minute before he started to talk again. Even seeing his face, familiar, if smoke stained, was a relief on some ways.
"I'm where your house was! Where in the world are you?" Aqualad couldn't contain the feelings he had within, and they rushed out through his strained voice. His eyes threatened to tear up, coming close to losing all control. His friend, one of the few on the surface world, was now beneath his feet – or was she? "Where's Bumblebee?" The stress he had gone through seemed to waver as the thought crossed his mind that she too might be safe.
"Hold on." Without bothering to consult him, he turned off the communicator, shutting down the line without a thought. Aqualad was put off by the rudeness, but since he couldn't say anything that would be heard, he chose to save his words for a more pointed conversation – one they would be having in the near future. A moment later, he could hear a dull thumping noise, but he couldn't locate it before it stopped. Then, after a few moments of brooding silence, an explosion, small and contained, occurred about ten feet to his left, making him jump. Ten seconds later, grunting could be heard – Speedy complaining. Aqualad rushed over, and in a moment took the scene in. Speedy was carrying a limp Bumblebee in his arms, straining and trying not to hurt her further. He looked up at Aqualad, his eyes burning, and without a word, they communicated. He quickly passed the unconscious hero to him, carefully allowing him to extract her.
A moment later he was swarmed by the paramedics as they began to perform tests on her. She was unresponsive, but had a steady pulse and strong breathing. Her head was quickly stabilized as they pulled her on to a stretcher, and she was carefully lifted onto a gurney, ready to be moved. He turned back to Speedy, only to see him climb out of the hole with two quivers heaping full of arrows, and a grim look across his face. "Speedy…" he said, ready to both berate, and to question. He never got the chance to.
Speedy gave him a look that brooked no discussion and started to speak. "Aqualad, I'm going to go get some answers. Stay with Bumblebee." His voice was strong, carrying the tone of command in it. He looked over at her for a second, his visage softening momentarily. "Someone needs to make sure nothing happens to her, and I want to find out who just destroyed my house." He sounded pissed, and it was obvious why. The look on his face boded ill for those who had caused him this grief.
Aqualad wanted to protest for a moment, wanted to get on to him, but after taking one look at the prone body of Bumblebee took most of the fight out of him. He knew his friend needed him more than Speedy did. That alone made up his mind, even if his heart told him differently. "Fine. But if you need help, for any reason…" He trailed off, knowing that his point was already made. The prospect of losing any of his friends was defiantly a frightening one, one that had come all too close to happening. He sighed, and then turned back towards Bumblebee, getting into the ambulance that she was being loaded into. He looked back only once, his eyes searching out the retreating figure of his only other true friend on the surface world, and he watched him as he scampered away, searching out a new, illusive target. He had no doubts that he would find it.
(Dum de dum.)
Speedy moved with the grace of a mountain lion, skirting the boarders of the rooftops, searching for his target. It hadn't taken all that long to find out both who was behind the attacks, and where they tended to 'hang out'. From there, he had simply left his informer hanging (Literally – he had caught him and hauled him fifty feet over the cement to get him to talk.) and began to chase down his newest quarry. He had been stalking him for almost a half an hour before he had moved off by himself to talk on his cell phone for a minute. A mistake, as it had turned out, because as soon as he finished his chat on the phone, a rather powerful grip had happened to attach to his foot, hauling him over the city streets without a moment's hesitation. He heard the man's startled cry, but knew that they wouldn't be answered. He had dropped a canister of sleeping gas down into the gang behind him. His face was carved of stone as he began his questioning. "Mendoza." It was not a question, but a statement of fact, one that obviously startled the punk before him. "Who was behind the fire?" He stared at the man's eyes, knowing that it was impossible that this man had managed to come up with a plan good enough to take down all three of them at once. If Aqualad had been attacked with more than knives, he likely wouldn't have been able to come to their rescue, and the whole thing would have worked.
The man, obviously in some pain at having been hung from his ankle, still managed to grimace very well, though his spit ball hit his forehead when he spat. "Go sit on your thumb and rotate!" He yelled out, not phased or really afraid yet. He seemed to sneer, even though he was incapacitated, and for a moment, Speedy almost let himself smile back. Then the memory of his house being burnt to the ground, with himself still inside of it, rushed back into his head, and he let go of the cording that held the man up. His scream was so very satisfying. He stopped him about four feet from impact and dragged him back up, ignoring the small yellow stream that now dripped from his pants.
"Let's try this again. Who set this up?" He ignored the incoherent gibbering that the man was saying, waiting for coherency. He continued to give him a stony stare, letting his expression do as much damage to his psyche as was possible. "Well? Do you need to go down again?" He sounded slightly hopeful.
The man was obviously afraid of heights, and it showed. "Blood!" He screamed out, his eyes wide and full of terror. He looked like he was going to cry. "Brother Blood ordered us to." He started the mad gibbering once more, his eyes now streaming tears forth into the night sky. Speedy moved his face in closer, so the man could feel his breath, and the gibbering stopped.
"One last question, then." He said with a quiet, resolved tone. "Where is Brother Blood?"
(Gargamell…)
Speedy walked into the building without a moment's hesitation. He had been watching it for almost an hour, and had discovered only a short while ago that the building had been abandoned. Now he was walking through the halls of a madman who had decided to make his home in Steel City. He had orchestrated an assassination attempt, had ruined thousands of lives for his own sick and twisted satisfaction, and had managed to seriously tick him off. Now he was trying to get a feel on a man who he knew would be one of the most dangerous adversaries that he had ever faced. A genius, a monster, a politician, and a source of evil beyond any he had ever faced before, and a man who was the embodiment of everything that he fought against. Oh, yes, he was focused on his job.
The final room was likely the most telling. A spacious throne was the most prominent feature, filling the front of the room with its ornate beauty. It was lavishly decorated – yet, at the same time, an aura of filth seemed to emanate from it. It was the only thing that had obviously remained untouched in the room, and everything else had been removed, save for one other piece of furniture. A chess board sat in the middle of the room, made of precious materials, and sitting upright, as if inviting him to play. As he walked closer, he could see three pieces sitting upright, standing like sentinels in a storm. One piece had unfamiliar features – those of Brother Blood, he assumed. The other two were carved in almost an exact copy of Bumblebee and Aqualad, each detail carved to perfection. Finally, a fourth piece sat to the side, on a small typed note. Where do you stand? As a pawn, or a knight? The piece was almost real in its detailed reality. He stared at the note for a second, the scooped up his own piece, inspecting it. A moment later, on instinct, he picked up the other two that were familiar and set them in his pocket. He turned to walk out, and then stopped. In one swift movement, he picked up the last figurine and hurled it into the wall, shattering it to pieces. He walked out without looking back, ignoring the broken king on the floor behind him.
(Final scene…)
Aqualad, Speedy, and Bumblebee sat quietly in the hospital, none wishing to speak or move much. Bumblebee had a head ache that felt like it would never go away, and Speedy still felt the strain of his late night hunt. All three figurines now sat on the dresser near her bed, along with their equipment. They were all disheveled and pooped, and none of them felt like celebrating. "So," Bumblebee's weak voice said, pulling attention to her prone form, "Who gets to tell Cyborg that he's going to have to pay for a new house?" Her voice, though not more than a whisper, carried tones of humor that the whole group needed to hear at this moment.
"Not today." Aqualad said, nearly groaning. He propped himself back, trying to close his eyes, if unsuccessfully. His eyes were too accustomed to darkness to let him sleep easily in the light, even the weak light they were in. His body was tired from the strenuous activity of the day and emotions that had run rampant afterwards.
"Agreed." Speedy's voice was wearied as well, and it was a surprise to himself that he was still awake. He didn't think that he would have been able to stay awake after all of the things he had been through the night before. His bruises and minor injuries were cared for, and with cops outside the door, no one was really worried about serious problems cropping up any time soon.
Bumblebee was the worst off out of the three of them. Her injuries were the most dangerous, due simply to the fact that the head was one of the most sensitive areas in the human body. The doctors had spent most of the night keeping an eye on her vital signs, and she wasn't supposed to leave the bed for another two or three days. Of course, this chaffed her to no end, being forced to sit still and take it easy. She needs to lay off of the sugar. Speedy thought to himself, shaking his head softly. He started to drift off to sleep, trying to get in a little shut eye.
Sadly, it was not to be. A sudden beeping brought the group's eyes to their communicators. Bumblebee groaned as the noise caused her headache to flare, and Aqualad shied back as if trying to keep a coiled viper away. Speedy rolled his eyes, but opened the communicator anyways. "Speedy here. What do you need, Robin?" The leader of the titans, his face was easily recognizable.
"Speedy… How is everyone? And why are you in a hospital?" His voice sounded concerned, but Speedy wished he hadn't called at all. He knew that this was going to be one of those days – in fact, since he hadn't slept yet, it still was one of those days.
He sighed and began to try and explain the situation to the boy wonder. "We ran into a few of Brother Blood's minions." He said evenly, ignoring the raised eyebrow from Robin. "Long story short, they attacked us and burned down my house. Speedy out." He turned off and closed his communicator before a shocked, open mouthed Robin could respond to his dropping of the bomb.
He looked at the other two as the communicators went off again and shook his head, laying back slightly. "You guys get it. It's your turn." He curled up and closed his eyes, letting sleep shut the noise of the communicators out.
(That's a wrap.)
Next Chapter: When a chemical spill destroys the ecosystem of the ocean near Steel City, Aqualad is upset. But when he discovers proof of illegal dumping, he will have to choose between his duty to take revenge and his desire for justice to be served. (And Mas y Menos show up too…)