Solo Hero Thing
Geez, I really suck at this whole solo hero thing.
Red X glared at the darkened alleyway below him, feeling both cheated and annoyed. Once he got over the shock of having murder charges floating around over his Wanted head, all that remained was a dull, throbbing sense of ironic irritation. He drummed his finger against the cold brick under his fingers, hunched at the edge of an old apartment building like a kind of animated gargoyle. The seconds ticked by like centuries and the longer he did nothing…the more strongly the sense that he should be doing something grew.
Stake out, he reminded himself with a growl. I'm just waiting.
Well, make it happen faster!
What! Damn it! This is not a drive through!
Then go find someone! Why do we have to wait?
Red X stopped the conversation with himself right there because not only did he realize talking with one's self probably wasn't healthy, but the conversation hadn't been particularly inspired either. He punched himself in the head and forced himself to wait some more, resisting the urge to stare repeatedly at his watch because the constant intensity from his glare might shatter it and then he'd have one more thing to get pissed about on his List of Things to Get Pissed About.
A shady looking thug in an ugly gangster jacket forty sizes too large came around the corner, whistling to himself. Part of Red X nearly died, sobbing with relief that someone had finally shown up. The poor bad-guy never knew what hit him, except that his attacker weighed about as much as one fifty dropped from twenty feet up. The man (maybe twenty four to twenty-six) swore colorfully around a mouthful of alley garbage and mud, Red X seated comfortably between his shoulder blades.
"About time!" the young thief snarled. "What happened to Domikov? Why isn't he picking up his cell?"
The man looked stupidly up at him, eyes the size of dinner plates. Red X glared at him and seized him by the back of his beanie-cap, grinding his face into the dirt. Once the guy had enough of that, X waited patiently for his captive to realize talking to him might be more appealing then tasting last months TV dinner rejects mixed with rat droppings. Jump City's garbage retrieval people tended to miss this area for some reason.
The man spat dirt and made mean comment about Red X's mother before getting around to answer the thief's previous question.
"Domikov? Domikov?" the thug echoed incredulously through the grit. "That guy who ratted stuff on Blockbuster? He's dead, dawg! Blockbusta capped his ass and if you're who I think you are then he wants you dead too. Ha, ha!"
Red X bounced the man's face off the concrete, effectively shutting him up.
"Shid, dude! Dat's by dose!"
"At least you still have it so far, Pinocchio. Did Domikov tell Blockbuster about me?"
"Nah, Dom tol' 'im he radded info t' a thief. Buster figured you 'imself," the abused gangster said stuffily.
Red X frowned behind his mask. "How?"
"I dunno…I 'eard he dalked t' Killer Moth, dough." The man stopped talking, going cross-eyed to stare at his red and swollen nose. Blood ran profusely over his lip and chin. "Ah, dude! You suck!"
But Red X had gone, already bounding up the side of a fire escape and darting up onto the roofs. He teleported a couple blocks over to land in the middle of Jump City's resident warehouse district. He fell awkwardly on a pile of crates, the xinothium tech not functioning as accurately with long range relocation. He managed to catch himself silently as possible, falling into a noiseless crouch and sat there, nursing his growing hatred for Blockbuster.
If that man (one of Blockbuster's less intelligent cronies) knew about the big man's grudge against him, then either the criminal had trouble keeping secrets…or he wanted Red X to hear about it. He didn't think that the new crime lord had an IQ low enough to let idiot thugs wander around with wagging tongues and information regarding a criminal he'd just framed. If in fact, Blockbuster had framed him. Or Red X could have read too deeply into Pinocchio's words and he was about to walk straight into an enemy who hadn't framed him, but wanted his skull smeared on a concrete road somewhere.
Geez, I suck at this solo hero thing.
Red X ghosted his way through the deserted space between warehouses, already knowing which one he wanted. He gave the building a good once over and decided the best point of entry…oddly enough he didn't think a window would work. Too high up, too easy to see. He circled, listening intently and picking up broken snatches of conversation inside. With a shrug, he decided he probably didn't have to play the subtle thief for this gig. Not when it required him to – most likely – beat the living daylights out of a giant moth-man.
He walked up to the side entryway, disdainfully picked the humble padlock and stepped inside the warehouse's dark interior, the scent of wet earth and…something else assaulting his nose. The inside of the warehouse sported a mud-coated paintjob and mountains of freshly turned earth all piled randomly about the room. He heard voices from the opposite side of the room, unaware of him. He grimaced and slipped silently inside, closing the door and moving forward to –
Crunch!
X froze.
That...didn't sound good…and he'd just smashed something under his boot. He quickly flinched away from it, disgusted to find the oozing, flattened carcass of what might have once been a mutant insect of some kind. The long, spiny legs twitched despite its untimely death and the thief wiped his foot quickly on the clean concrete, suppressing a gag of revulsion.
Killer Moth never did leash his pets very well.
Good Lord, I hope he wasn't fond of that one…Red X thought morosely.
"Daddy! DADDY!"
The screeching caught his attention immediately. It sounded female…at least he thought it did, but he could be mistaken. Maybe Killer Moth had bred some kind of super intelligent screaming insect of doom; one to deafen the Teen Titans and somehow thwart the adolescent ass-kickers. The thief ducked behind a thick mound of grayish, black dirt and massaged his aching ears. He crouched there, stunned, staring at the damp soil and wondering what kind of monster could possess a voice so hideous, so mind-numbing so…
He looked over the mound.
Oh…
Standing behind an obviously distracted Killer Moth, a skinny blond girl in pink Converse, girlish hip-huggers and hot-pink pull-over, stomped around like an anorexic dinosaur, practically breathing fire in her rage. Red X watched her clomp about, having her tantrum, from the safety of the dirt mound. He began to think perhaps Killer Moth wasn't the real monster in this bizarre family tie. That girl had the whole 'beauty-is-only-skin-deep' thing going on for her.
"Fang broke up with me! Again!" she shrieked, whirling around, swinging what looked like a half eaten Care Bear in wild circles. "That's jerk! That idiotic, drooling, no good, double-crossing…GRRRRRRR! I'm going to rig his bed with a can of Raid! I'm going to find the world's biggest shoe and…and step on him! I'm…I…I MISS HIM! WAAAAAAH!" Here she fell on her knees and started bawling shamelessly.
Red X felt vaguely horrified.
Bad enough Killer Moth somehow had a hand in the conception of this demon-blond, but that she had a fling going down with that giant, mutated, spider…guy. The thief couldn't stop the skin-crawling 'Eeeeeeew!' that shot through his brain at the mental projections and tried to block it out. Not something he needed running through his mind like an unwanted car insurance jingle. One more thing on Red's growing List of Things to Pissed About.
Killer Moth tuned his daughter out, far too absorbed with staring into a large muddy vat of…slimy, squirmy, somethings, to bother with the demonic noise-making of his vile little girl. He kept looking into the pit, checking a clipboard in his furry claws, twitching his wings excitedly and muttering things like 'Yes…yes…' The girl went right one screaming and screaming and bawling…
Red X couldn't take it.
"DAMN GIRL! SHUT THAT OFF!" he roared, leaping up on the dirt mound, hands over his ears.
She sucked a gasp, tears vanishing instantly. "Daddy! Someone's in our hideout!"
"Hideout my ass. My cat hides better then you two," X leered. "Sorry to interrupt the soap-opera but 'daddy' and I need to have a chat."
Killer Moth leapt protectively in front of the girl, shielding her from the irritated intruder brandishing the clipboard in his direction. The mad man glanced fondly at her over his shoulder. "Kitten, sweetie. Daddy needs to kill a thief right now. Could you go fetch the device for me?"
"The device?" Red repeated. "Who says that?"
Moth looked insulted. "What would you know?"
"Too much if you're willing to chat about me to Blockbuster," Red X spat. "You'd best tell me what you told him. That way I won't have to drag you and the dateless wonder to the cop-shop."
The older villain glowered. "You're joking. A thief bring me in? Killer Moth? Ha! If I thought you were worth my trouble I might kill you myself. As it is, I think I'll feed you to my children. They're starving."
"What did you tell Blockbuster?" Red X continued, undeterred.
"Nothing," growled Moth, looking anxiously for Kitten and the 'device'. "Just that he should talk to your old pal Dr. Chang."
"Chang? The crazy guy in the moon-suit? That guy?" Red X recalled this vaguely. He didn't really trust Killer Moth to tell the truth, indeed, he seemed to have given outthat little morsel a bit too eagerly...dropping bread crumbs. X didn't buy it.
Moth chuckled. "He seems to have taken an interest in you. What ever did you do? Heh heh."
"You're daughter is turning red," X announced drolly, changing the subject.
Sure enough, the towheaded teen had gone rigid; standing there with her hands clenched, shoulders hunched; face contorted with rage. She eyed the thief with something like loathing and hatred mashed into one evil-eyed glare. Red X noted her skin had gone a brilliant cherry red whilst her baby-blue eyes burned with arsenic laced fury. For a moment he couldn't fathom her change in attitude until…
"Dateless!" Kitten screeched. "Why you dirty little thief! I'm going to strangle you, you miserable, smartass, bas-,"
"Kitten! Get the device!" Killer Moth repeated loudly.
For a moment she shot her father a look of hatred almost equal to that she'd given X. Then suddenly, she perked up, an idea hatched in her brain sure as if a light bulb had popped on over her head. She leapt off the ground with a disturbingly evil grin and Red X felt something go 'poing!' somewhere inside his head. A small warning sign that meant he might end up on the wrong side of something nasty for the second time tonight. Kitten rushed to a table set up beside the pit and spun around, pointing it at X with childish glee.
"Let's see how you smart you are now!" crowed the girl. She hit a button and…
…nothing.
Red X blinked.
He waited.
He looked around.
Examined his foot.
Drummed his fingers against his thigh.
"Sweetie…" Killer Moth said.
"What? Can't you see I'm busy?" Kitten spat, obviously confused as to why X hadn't spontaneously combusted for her.
The moth-man grimaced. "You need to turn it on."
It was Kitten's turn to blink. "Oh…"
Less than impressed or intimidated by Kitten's technological retardation, Red X took the liberty of leaping off the dirt mound and landing in front of Killer Moth. Red X moved like greased lightening, flicking a shuriken into his fingers, he darted forward and slammed his boot into Moth's chest. The man fell back with a heavy grunt, his giant wings flapping heavy, stirring dust into the heavy air, but X landed in a crouch, his foot aching from the blow.
He'd landed the kick correctly but hitting this guy had all the unpleasantness of kicking a brick wall with fur.
Those giant wings pumped and the man rose up in the air, eyes dark with fury. X figured this as good a time as any for those shuriken and hurled several the flying man-monster. They exploded in a haze of red smoke, blinding the winged villain effectively…or so X thought. He got a nasty surprise as the moth-man exploded from the cloud of crimson and smashed him to the ground, pinning his arms in the dirt and landing hard on the smaller fighter.
He'd read somewhere in second grade that, like the bats that hunted them, moths possessed their own kind of sonic vision. Perhaps Killer Moth did too. Well damn, the thief thought. X growled, struggling to throw the heavy moth-man off him, wiry arms thrashing around in his captor's grip. Killer Moth looked startled as the larcenist proved himself unusually tough for a felon not interested in the whole 'battle the Titans and take over the world' bid. The man had to use his pumping wings to push himself down harder to keep the struggling burglar on the floor.
"Kitten! Turn it on!" he roared, grunting as X nearly ripped his arm free.
The girl fumbled with buttons.
"I got it!" she cried triumphantly.
Killer Moth lunged off the thief and flew at his daughter who hurled the unknown object at her father. He snatched it from the air and laughed maniacally – don't they all? – and pointed at the tussled Red X. The dirt mound began to tremble, little bits of earth crumbling and slithering off the sides of the hills and gathering around the burglar's wrists. He pulled himself to his feet quickly, mesmerized by the ground a couple feet away, a lump of dirt slowly rising, thrusting upward and out toward him.
"Kill him, my children! Kill!" he crowed wickedly.
Oh crap…
Red X leapt away as the ground erupted in a spray of rock and soil. The thief landed in a crouch and immediately flipped back several times as the ground where he pushed off with his hands burst open similarly. He landed awkwardly as his foot fell on moving earth and sent him tumbling to one side, spilling himself on the ground as it exploded beside him. Dirt showered the thief, half burying him. Then something slithered, the soft hissing sound of something passing through and over wet soil registering in his auditory senses.
He rolled over and away just as a giant, gray earth worm wriggled from the ground where he'd sprawled a moment before.
X leapt up and bounded out of range, watching with a mixture of horror and disgust as the giant, clumsy things began to inch toward him, slithering across the dirt like headless snakes. The thief wondered vaguely how they planned to kill him without any teeth to speak of…Hey….how were they going to kill him without any teeth? He stood there, hands at his sides, blinking as the first and nearest worm reached his foot and took a step back before it could do any damage. It inched toward him again, moving half a foot at a time.
The thief glowered at Killer Moth. The man looked horrified, his latest and supposedly greatest experiment proving a pathetic flop. Not only could these worms not catch their prey, but they had no means with which to kill said prey. He'd worked so hard to make them huge he'd forgotten they had no killer man-eating instincts yet.
"Yeah. The time to chat is over," X said dryly. "But I think you've got something to tell the police for me."
Killer Moth looked like a fly in a spider's web, Kitten squealed and made a run for it but X whipped out a very special projectile and…
-heist-
Commissioner Jones was having a really bad night.
Not only had he gotten a call at twenty to midnight on account of some dead bookie on the docks, but it seemed that this apparently random act of violent might not actually have been at random. He'd dug into Peterson's 'clean' records and found several discrepancies in a lot of his annual accounting reports. Dockings that never happened, names that don't exist, all pointing to a middle man covering for something illegal.
So Peterson had been dirty.
Jones sighed and rubbed his aching, bleary eyes. Blinking at the glowing computer screen he reached for his mug of coffee and wished that Davy's Doughnuts ran twenty-four hours. Then he kicked himself for thinking such a generic cop thought.
"I've been at this for way too long," he grumbled, reading through and making note of yet another misfile in Peterson's reports.
This one occurred the day before Christmas, the same day the part-time Titan, Bumblebee, had reported in a drug-smuggling operation along the coastlines; supposedly birthed at Jump City until its doomed voyage into the young woman's capable hands. From what he remembered from the case, the fierce African American girl had ripped them all a literal new one and made them steer the ship into the nearest bay and turn themselves in.
They'd all done so quite alarming willingness.
There came a knock at his office door, a quick, almost frantic rapping sound of a fist against the blurry glass pane.
He looked up, glowering. He'd have to report all these unusual filings to Robin and there was nothing Jones hated more then reporting things to a teenager, no matter what Dark Knight they'd worked under in a previous life. A skinny, spiky-haired kid in a cape and mask was still a skinny, spiky-haired kid in a cape and mask no matter what Dark Knight they'd formerly worked under. Having to do background on a victim and then turn his findings into a punk who looked like he just barely managed his way past puberty did a number on his pride and therefore put him in a lousy kind of mood.
"I hope you have a really incredible reason for disturbing me," Jones growled, shoving his door open.
A pretty female desk jockey in blue and a baffled looking cop who'd joined the force recently gaped back at him. The newbie shook his head and pointed wordlessly out the front doors of the lobby. Jones' sharp gray eyes darted to the indicated entry where a small gathering of police had bunched up at the door, chattering and milling around excitedly, all confusion, talk and motion.
The secretary took over. "Sir…you might want to see this," she said.
The man noted her expression – her name was Kathy and she a reputation for flightiness. So if she'd gone taciturn now it must carry some gravity – and practically sprinted for the front doors. He roared and shoved and fired people who probably didn't work here until they cleared a path for the wild Chief of Police. The balding official marched out onto the front steps of the station…and stared.
Hanging from the streetlight, roped up in what looked like red goo of some sort, swung Killer Moth and his juvenile daughter, Kitten. A pile of papers, sinister mechanical devices and a couple of what looked like mutated earthworms lay damningly beside the pair. All the evidence needed to put Moth away and ship Kitten off to corrective boarding school for delinquent teeni-boppers. Jones stepped forward, sweeping his hat off his head and scratching it in wonder.
"MMMMMMMMMM!" Kitten screamed kicking wildly, legs pin wheeling in the open air.
The reason for her lack of verbal wit: They had giant red X's plastered over their mouths with the words 'interrogate me' scrawled across them. Jones noticed Kitten had a large envelope hanging around her neck with a single word written in red slanted lettering. No…not a word…a name. He reached up and snatched the envelope, barking at his men to get them down and start questioning them about the giant earth worms, then about who brought them in.
Jones picked up his cell and dialed.
"Robin," he said, grimacing. "I have something for you here. A letter. Want me to read it?"
"What? What letter? From who?" Robin's voice demanded from the other side. He sounded agitated.
Jones smirked. "It was delivered with a neatly packaged Killer Moth. Want to hear it?"
"No. I'll be there in ten. I want to talk to Moth myself. Robin out."
Did nobody say good-bye anymore? Jones rolled his eyes and hung up, regretting his decision to call the hyper-intense Teen Titan to the scene before he got a chance to question the two criminals himself. Moth had busted out of jail a couple months earlier, but the Titans had been preoccupied with something else at the time. So who besides the Titans and the police bothered with chasing down villainous moth-men and their super-annoying 'little princess'.
Jones tapped his finger against the envelope…then held it up to the light from overhead. Though the thin paper, the dark red inking of the enclosed message read one simple sentence…not even a full sentence.
Not a killer.
- Signed, X.
