Fair warning: there is a particularly foulmouthed character in this chapter, who happens to deliver a particularly foulmouthed monologue. If that is something that you consider to be in poor taste, you might want to skip that part. You'll know it when you see it.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans or other affiliated materials.
Antoine was right: the brisket was excellent. The cut of beef was charred black, its crispy exterior tasting of brown sugar and cayenne pepper, amongst other spices. The underlying meat was tender and moist, with slight layers of fat woven in so that it resembled a marble cake. Like a marble cake, each bite melted in your mouth, the rich scent of hickory and oak pervading throughout, indicating that the slab was fire cooked on the slow and low. It was a far cry from the tasteless rubber Jinx had been accustomed to during her time at the Academy. She strictly remembered barbeque days at the H.I.V.E. being miserable affairs for all but those who maintained a masochistic palate—oh, and Mammoth.
The venue was likewise impressive. Dyson's had left the basic layout of the depot mostly untouched, from the weathered brick foundation to the translucent arched windows. Hammering home the authenticity, the entrance was an unpainted wooden ramp leading up to a corroded freight door, a faded "A3" still visible above it. Inside, a few liberties were taken to promote a fine dining atmosphere. Mahogany wood made up the floor and the furniture, which upon further inspection appeared to be painstakingly handcrafted. The room was intentionally dim, with the only sources of light being the candlelit chandeliers hanging low from the ceiling rafters. Dotting the walls were diagrams of the different cuts of beef and pork as well as rustic—and damn near reverential—images of bombastic bovines. From the corner in which they were seated, Jinx could make out a watercolor of a heifer valiantly grazing along an unkempt field to form the pattern of a cross. Classy.
"Remember to breathe, champ."
Kid Flash was shamelessly shoveling away at his third plate of burnt ends, after having vigorously gnawed away at the pristinely polished bones that once constituted an order of lamb ribs. In another five minutes, he'd surely be imploring her to be charitable with her own meal. Any other night she'd be chastising him for such an embarrassing public display. As much as she enjoyed being the center of attention, she always found herself shrinking in her seat as scores of alarmed eyes scrutinized her boyfriend's gluttony. But tonight, she was more than willing to overlook it all—she was just relieved to see him returning to high spirits after their encounter with Antoine. As such, she couldn't muster more than a few teasing remarks.
"You gonna eat the plate while you're at it?" Jinx asked, prompting a toothy grin from the speedster.
"Would you begrudge a growing boy some nourishment?"
"I guess not," she shrugged, sliding her leftover brisket towards him, "Knock yourself out."
"You're the best, Jinxie."
She examined him skeptically. For all the food he managed to shove in his mouth, his body never seemed to suffer for it: no weight gain, no bloating—not even a stomachache. Cyborg and Mammoth would be proud.
"I just can't fathom where it all goes."
"Same place it goes for everyone else. Of course, you factor in the superfast metabolism and—"
"The less I hear about this the better." Jinx quickly interrupted.
"I usually get cut off there," Kid Flash chuckled, "You know, we've yet to hit a buffet together. I know this great Chinese place called Iron Age. Not very authentic, but the food's decent for the price of admission."
She shuddered at the mental image: his jaw unhinging like a snake's to engulf a tray of crab rangoons.
"I take it that's a no? I'm pretty restrained at buffets, you know."
"Meaning?"
"I only eat my dollars' worth." he replied, a hint of mischief in his tone.
"Right. So you bankrupt the place."
He let out a resounding guffaw, giving her hand a gentle squeeze of approval for her punchline. He straightened up as their waiter—Darrell was his name if she recalled correctly—descended upon the table. Darrell was a rather pudgy man with rosy cheeks and a seemingly sanguine disposition. His enthusiasm for the restaurant and the craft of barbeque was evident in the way he jabbered on about the different dishes in meticulous detail. Thus, upon noticing the bronze pin on his breast pocket, Jinx made little of it. It was shaped like the state of Texas, picturing a snake being strangled by a pair of tongs, the words "NEMO ME IMPUNE LACESSIT" emblazoned on it. The man took his barbeque seriously, so what?
"Everything tasting delicious over here?" he inquired excitedly, his breath running short.
"Everything's excellent." Kid Flash replied.
At this validation, the server's fists clenched, back arching and chest heaving, his shoulders locking forward violently. His face contorted into a mess of wrinkled folds as if he were freefalling at terminal velocity, cheeks wrenching back to reveal a set of chattering teeth.
"You alright, buddy?"
He began aggressively stamping at the ground with his left foot. Each eye projected from its socket, with a complete lack of coordination between them. Nose twitching, he lurched forward against Kid Flash, pressing his face against the boy's, taking a distinctly audible whiff of the flame-colored hair. What the Hell?!
"Tell me what was excellent about it." he demanded through bated breath.
Kid Flash sent a confused glance her way, but she was likewise stupefied. Did she detect what she thought she did in that tone? She peered at the other patrons of the restaurant, each person utterly immersed in their own little world. No, it couldn't be. Someone would have perked up if that were the case. She had to be imagining it. Maybe she was still a bit delirious after the run-in with Antoine? The collar did have a way of leaving her disoriented. But the sniffing with the hair…
"Well—uh—" Kid Flash stammered, "The burnt ends were… not burnt?"
Darrell let out a grunt, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
"Yes? And what else?"
That wasn't a purr she heard just now, was it? There was no way that was a purr. Not a chance… right? You couldn't be so forward with a customer like that and expect to keep your job, especially when dealing with minors—super powered ones at that. Certainly this guy wouldn't dare pull a stunt like that. Certainly she had to be imagining it. Certainly it was just some sort of waking fever dream on account of that damn collar. But if that was the case… how come Kid Flash was in on it?!
"I, uh, don't taste any creosotes on the char."
"Yes. More."
Jinx felt a sinking sensation in her stomach as Darrell sprawled his meaty arms over the table, roughly fondling the cloth with his fingers. Bad touch! Creeper alert! Is that why he was being so nice earlier? To butter them up for this? Kid Flash's eyes darted towards her, transmitting an ocular plea for help. She remained frozen in her seat. What did he expect her to do?! Stab the guy with a fork? Dump a glass of water on him? What was she supposed to say to Antoine?
Sorry Mr. Antoine, sir. The waiter was pulling the moves on Slim here so I dropped a chandelier on his head.
"The seasoning on the ribs was… eh… great. Sweet with a bit of kick." the speedster continued cautiously.
"Yes?!"
Kid Flash was pinned against the wall now, looking set to phase through it in an instant's notice.
"And you can really taste the smoke on 'em. Nutty-like. Pecan wood I'm guessing?"
"Actually, we use two parts oak and one part hickory, but yes?!"
Darrell was now vigorously rocking their table back and forth via pelvic thrust, the watercolor on the wall swinging in unison with him. She'd never seen anyone get so… animated… over barbeque. Pondering back to the pin on his breast pocket, she wondered what he was like when he was angry. It certainly couldn't be worse than when he was aroused, could it? She banished the stray thought: best they didn't find out.
"And the fat content was, uh, on point."
"YES?!"
"The meat just falls away and melts right in your mouth."
"YES?!"
A vein bulged along his temple, and she was almost certain he'd detonate any moment now. She shut her eyes apprehensively, beseeching every deity and cosmic being she'd ever heard of. Hell, she even threw a bone Trigon's way. With any luck, one of them would take pity and shield her from the climax.
"Overall, a, uh… sublime showing from Dyson's tonight."
God help her, here it comes.
"I'm glad to hear you enjoyed the food, sir. Here at Dyson's, we strive to create a remarkable barbeque experience by serving products prepared with high quality ingredients through time-honored traditions."
Was she dead? She allowed herself to creak one eye open, and then the other. No Hellfire. No cherubs. Just dim lighting and the scent of smoked game. Darrell was standing upright, completely composed, as if the episode had never occurred. She peeked to Kid Flash, who appeared to be just as bewildered as her at the complete 180 the situation had taken.
"And the mademoiselle?"
Darrell was now turned towards her, a single eyebrow raised in expectation.
"What he said."
She briskly excused herself from the table, half-walking-half-sprinting to the restroom before he got the chance to pull… whatever that was… on her. Once there, she could hide out for a few minutes before rendezvousing with Kid Flash back at the entrance. She had just made it to the alcove where the reception desk sat when she ran straight into a grizzled man.
He was completely unfazed, as if he had anticipated the impact. Backing away to apologize, she instead found herself cursing under her breath—she was better off with the sexually frustrated waiter. The man's appearance was unassuming enough: worn running shoes, dingy sweatpants, moss green hoodie (full of holes), and a burgundy beanie. Paired with this was unkempt hair, with bangs hanging loose from under the hat, and a shaggy beard, which was caked with dirt. To most, he was nothing but a lowly pauper. But if one took the time to look past his bruised eye sockets, they would find not the resigned eyes of a vagrant but those of a trained killer.
He was completely unfazed, as if he had anticipated the impact—how could that be possible? The answer inevitably crept into her thoughts: he had been waiting there, watching her, the entire time. She shivered at the idea before mentally reprimanding herself. He wanted to see her squirm. That was the sole reason he stood out in the open like that. The very same reason she'd wake up to find him peering at her sleeping figure from the balcony opposite her apartment. The reason she'd see his face weaving through passing crowds, shamelessly stalking her during her downtown outings. The reason that every time she entered an automobile, there always seemed to be a busted black coupe tailing her from exactly three car lengths away. He was her shade, assigned to her to serve as a reminder: that Keystone City was her cage. If he could force a reaction out of her, all the better—no doubt it made the work more entertaining for him.
"I still have an hour and a half." Jinx calmly reminded him.
No response. Typical.
"The silent treatment? A bit cliché, don't you think?"
Still nothing. She frowned. If this two-bit hatchet man thought a staring contest would shake her, he'd have another thing coming. Intimidation was her reputation. One well-placed glare could make most super powered teens damn near spontaneously combust—certainly she could scare off one of Antoine's thugs. She was just about to give him the Jinx Special when she heard it:
"Sonuva bitch! Sauce?! You want sauce?!"
She grimaced at the sound of Darrell.
"Please don't be from my table." she mentally implored.
"Why are you getting so upset?" echoed the familiar voice of Kid Flash.
Should she have even been surprised? She tore her eyes from the man in the beanie towards the direction of the commotion. Kid Flash and the waiter were currently hunched over the brisket Jinx had donated to the former. The latter's face was red, his teeth bared and eyes aflame. What could have triggered this?
"I'm going to go this way now."
The only response she received was the same blank expression.
"Terrifying to the last." she mused, taking note of the candlelit chandelier hanging above them.
She paced halfway to the source of the bedlam before pausing. If he wanted fluster, she'd be more than happy to oblige. Her eyes glowed pink, noiselessly causing one of the candles from the chandelier to drip. Let him maintain that taciturn demeanor when he was doused in molten wax. Observing from her peripheral vision, she watched the man in the beanie effortlessly sidestep the scalding goop as if by premonition. A wry smile overtook his face.
"Shit," she thought, "Not a two-bit hatchet man after all."
She promptly returned to her seat, where the banter continued in spite of her added presence. Taking one last look towards the entrance, she caught a glimpse of the man's figure leaving the restaurant. Good riddance. At ease, she turned her attention back to the argument at hand.
"25 years I've busted ass in the barbeque game! And now some smug fuck comes in here popping all this good shit about sauce when he knows damn well the food doesn't need it. Sauce?! Fucking sauce?!"
"What's going on here?" she interjected.
"All I said is that I'd like to try to brisket with some sauce." Kid Flash asserted.
"Don't give me that shit. You think you're all high and mighty because you have a five-minute mile time."
Yikes. She could practically hear the boy wincing from the verbal sucker punch.
"… five minutes?"
"And you think that entitles you to waltzing in here and shitting all over the little man? Well I have news for you, you costumed prick. Fuck your sauce! Fuck what it represents!" Darrell declared, yanking away at the tablecloth in a rampage.
To his bewilderment, the dishes defiantly remained in place.
"25 years in barbeque but no understanding of basic physics." Jinx mentally quipped.
She glanced back at Kid Flash, who was still in a state of quandary as to what was going on. Alas, having lived in Keystone City all his life, he didn't grasp the idiosyncrasies of localized barbeque etiquette. Not that she was particularly in touch herself. She just happened to remember Mammoth lecturing her and Gizmo of the dangers of asking for sauce in a Texas smokehouse—something about it insinuating the meat was bad—upon returning from a convention in Lockhart. Much of his time with the H.I.V.E. Five was spent traveling to far-flung food expos—all expenses paid for legally at that. Not that she complained. He always brought home souvenirs. And he became one Hell of a chef.
She nudged the speedster in the arm.
"He thinks you're badmouthing the food. Best just take it back."
The speedster gawked at her incredulously before sighing in resignation.
"Alright. Forget I said anything. Sorry to offend."
The irate server perked up, broken from the trance of the dishes and the perplexing concept of inertia.
"Man, fuck all that. You've gone and made a damn scene and you think that's gonna fly?"
Jinx could feel her hair starting to droop out of irritation: this guy was even more absurd when he was angry than when he was horny. If Kid Flash hadn't always insisted on a diplomacy-first policy, she'd have throttled the man for his gall.
"I made a scene?!"
"Look: fuck you. Fuck wherever the fuck you came in from. Fuck those shoes. Fuck that goofy-ass spandex—"
"I get a lot of compliments on this—"
"—Fuck those little lightning bolts on the side of your head. Fuck that cheap-ass cologne you're wearing. Fuck that baby carrot hair—"
"I wouldn't really call it that shade—"
"—Fuck your dopey-ass eyes. Fuck your apology. Fuck the Flash. Fuck Man-Bat—"
"He's not even a—"
"—Fuck the Justice League. This is Dyson's: where the food is great and the service is better. Now pay your tab and get the fuck out. And if I ever see you again, I'm smacking the shit out of you."
Kid Flash waited a few seconds to ensure the fiery tirade was over. Just as he rose a finger to respond Darrell exploded again.
"Y'know what? Fuck that! I'll give you your beating here!"
"You can't be serious."
"You bet your scrawny little ass I am. You've gone and given me a blood chub."
Blood chub? Jinx felt her gaze instinctively trailing down the waiter's body to—what the Hell is that?! She clamped her violated eyes shut as she tore her head away from him in favor of the watercolor on the wall.
"He's serious." she muttered.
"Now I'm obliged to kick your ass! Get ready for a taste of Keystone City's finest!" he exclaimed as he wound up a balled fist.
"What the fuck is going on out here?!"
Jinx opened her eyes to see an immaculately-dressed dark-skinned man—the general manager, if she had to guess—push his way through the curious crowd that had formed around their table. Darrell's cheeks reddened, like a child caught doing something wrong.
"Fighting with the customers again, Daryl?"
The man spoke in a nonchalant manner, as if he was accustomed to this kind of behavior.
"But boss!" the waiter stammered as he jabbed an accusatory finger towards Kid Flash, "This uppity little shit came in here asking for sauce."
The expensively-dressed man gave an incredulous look.
"Then give him some sauce, Daryl."
"But—"
"For fuck's sake: this isn't Texas. Give the boy some sauce."
The crowd began to disperse, disappointed at the lost prospect of witnessing Kid Flash in action. Jinx allowed herself a sigh of relief—a return to normalcy at last. Daryl glared at the speedster, who in turn offered an apologetic smile. Having noticed this, the dark-skinned man chided once more, "Daryl. You plan on digging yourself even deeper?"
"No boss." The waiter surrendered through gritted teeth as he tottered back to the kitchen.
The general manager turned back towards them.
"My apologies for Daryl's behavior. He's passionate to a fault."
"No harm done." Kid Flash assured.
"I appreciate your modesty, sir, but I can hardly believe that. Please, allow us to comp tonight's meal."
"I don't really think that's nece—"
"Nonsense," the man interrupted as he began to clear their empty plates, "It's the least we can do after all the hard work you kids put in."
Sensing the trouble still lingering in Kid Flash's eyes, he leaned in to suggest, "If you want to make it up to me, you'll come back some time and buy some appetizers."
"Will do."
And with a bow of the head he was gone. Jinx and Kid Flash seated themselves once more, both staring intently at the brisket that started it all. How a token of generosity could spawn that kind of racket was beyond her. Maybe she was better off just eating it.
"What was wrong with it?"
"It looked a little dry."
"That line didn't work out last time either," she snickered.
"Never hurts to ask."
"That seemed like a boo-boo to me."
He shrugged.
"That was an anomaly."
"Oh? And the bit with him forcing himself on you was conventional?"
"I may have given him too much benefit of the doubt."
"I guess the thought of living wise never crossed your mind."
"Or maybe it's just that I feel invincible around you." he said with a wink.
She couldn't quite tell if that was incredibly smooth or unbearably cheesy. Her lips must have been inclined towards the former, as they immediately cracked into a dopey grin.
"Dammit," her brain scolded, "What are you? A schoolgirl?"
It certainly must have appeared that way, with how Kid Flash was clearly savoring her expression. Dammit. The last thing she needed was for him to walk away from the table with that mental image. Or the knowledge that he was capable of extracting it from her. She had to reclaim her dignity, and fast.
"Or maybe you're just an idiot."
"I can see that," he yielded, before leaning in to whisper, "But I think I like my theory better."
Before she could respond, she was cut off by Daryl hollering in the distance:
"Who the Hell are you guys?! You here for sauce too?!"
Then came a sharp yelp, followed by Daryl scuttling into the room and diving over an occupied table, sending the baffled patrons' entrées plummeting to the floor, with him in tow. Jinx deflated in her seat. What now?
"Does something have to go wrong every time we go out?" she grumbled.
"That's pretty rich, coming from you." a shrill voice retorted.
She perked up immediately.
"No…" her voice trailed.
Her brain hastily raced through the implications of what she just heard. That voice! There was no way she could be hearing that bratty tone now—not after what happened in Paris. She swung around in her seat to see him hovering there, the other four standing tall behind him, arms crossed and smirking triumphantly at her shock.
"What's wrong, scud muffin?" Gizmo asked, "Didn't you miss us?"
