Jigsaw Puzzle
Reply Fr: CircusRunaway
To: Bandit13
What was the name of the circus?
-CircusRunaway
Bannon contemplated the words quietly, frowning at them. He sighed, plucking his hot cocoa from the counter and downing a healthy gulp, burning his tongue mildly. He pondered a moment whether or not he should reply right away or just pretend he hadn't opened it. It would seem silly at this point to delay, having gone out of his way for the last couple months just to talk to this guy every other night. Just not replying seemed almost taboo now, like he was breaking some kind of deeply ingrained rule of on-line chat…or something.
So there he had it.
The teenager poked a couple keys experimentally, as if they might form coherent words of their own accord, but no such luck. With a sigh he tucked his arms around his middle and sat back, closing his eyes and slumping tiredly in his seat. This is just retarded, he decided quietly, gazing with lidded eyes out the clean café window. He wasn't thinking about CircusRunaway anymore as he thought this. Frankly, he wasn't sure he remembered. It had been along time ago. He was rather pondering how he planned to one-up Blockbuster when the man so obviously wasn't one to be upped a second time.
If Blockbuster decided to hold a grudge Ban had the sneaking suspicion that rather than find him and beat his face in like every other normal criminal, that BB wanted to erase him completely. Red X was a fairly infamous name around Jump City and a thorn in the side of almost every other criminal to date. Bannon hadn't much thought about it but there was hardly a criminal in Jump that went without harassment. X had an annoying habit of bothering everyone; other criminals were not immune.
So to frame Red X and get him to tank out would say something about Blockbuster. Bannon leaned back in his chair and peered curiously at the back of Raven's lavender head. Did she really not know it was him? He took another ponderous sip of his cocoa. Then again getting close to the Titans without their knowledge was something of a hobby for the young mechanic, never mind Cyborg had remained mysteriously absent for the last couple fights…How long did that errand in Steel City last?
Anyway, Blockbuster…Ban may have underestimated the old man once, but he certainly wasn't in the mood to do so again and he similarly had no inclination to play the frightened mouse. He had Espia, he knew Blockbuster was the one who framed him, and he knew that the crime lord had the sister disk, Socio and therefore a bargaining chip. But he still could not shake the feeling that he was fumbling into a trap of some kind. He couldn't even logically explain why as that didn't make any sense at all, but he couldn't shake the gut instinct telling him to be wary. For all he knew he'd played perfectly into BB's devious plot to rule the world.
Or something…
Several coffee machines suddenly exploded and Bannon jerked, startled as Raven jumped up, chair falling to the floor with a clattered. He blinked admirably about at the chaos. Raven turned quickly for the door, sweeping quickly out of the small café like she couldn't get out quickly enough. He caught the receding side-angle of her face, stack white, eyes wide with uncharacteristic…fear? He peered curiously after her, standing up in her seat briefly to watch her. The pale sorceress pulled her cowl over her head and jumped quickly into the air, wobbling a moment as if dizzy before regaining composure and vanishing overhead.
Odd…Bannon sat back, rubbing his aching side absentmindedly. He'd been so concerned that she'd seen his hand again last night, might recognize the violin scars, traced himself somehow, but his anxieties ebbed slightly after that display. She seemed, if anything, too distracted to present much of a problem. He sipped another mouthful of hot chocolate, typing a one handed message back to CircusRunaway. The Titans were having domestic problems, he supposed.
Reply Fr: Bandit13 CircusRunaway HomelessClown
The name of the circus? That was a hellava long time ago, jerk. I could probably be feeding you bad information here but, I remember it was this big time traveling gig visiting Gotham. I snuck out to see it. Haley's Circus. The posters were ugly, but I wanted to go anyway, even though clowns freak the heck out of me. But then the trapeze act went south or something, bad cables. Both of the acrobats died. They might have run a newspaper story. Why do you ask?
- Bandit13
He paused, studying his reply carefully. Did he want to tell this guy he was from Gotham? Did it matter? He supposed it didn't and sent the e-mail, checking his box briefly for any other suspicious messages and logged out. He finished off what remained in the neat paper cup and tossed it in the trash. In the end it all came down to his innocence and what it would take to prove it to those hopped up vigilantes. For all his stealing, sleuthing and battle wounds he'd yet to find anything tangible, just a scrap to prove he wasn't the murderer.
He seethed quietly, his wounded pride kneading hot claws deep in the recesses of his chest and he felt his hand coiling. The amber-eyed teen stared spitefully at the computer in front of him. The old man would regret that he ever tried to get even with Red X. He smirked to himself, already feeling five times better. He already made up his mind. Blockbuster was in for one hell of a ride and if his luck held, he could even put his plan into motion this evening. After all, annoying people was his element.
He wasn't afraid. How could he be frightened of a mere mortal felon? He was one of greatest cat-burglars in Jump City and just to prove it, he was going to steal back his reputation, strip Blockbuster of whatever power he thought he had over him and prove once and for all that he was on a side all his own. God-complex or not, BB was only human and that didn't scare Red X. He was startled just how little anxiety he felt over this, he'd expected a bit more angst on his part, what with getting framed, beaten within and inch of his life and stalked around the city.
But than again getting chased by the Titans wasn't so out of the ordinary for Red X. Raven's almost-but-not-quite death blow had shaken him a bit (he didn't like it when heroes started playing too seriously, took all the fun out of everything) but Blockbuster didn't concern him. Compared to Slade…Blockbuster was nothing.
He rubbed his aching ribs ruefully. Making a reckless move on the criminal would probably be likened to shooting himself in the foot and tightrope walking: Stupid with a very high percentage of impending death. He needed to do something freaking brilliant, to do something to out wit Blockbuster and prove to all of Jump City's underworld that Red X didn't flinch in the face of any criminal. He stood up, pushing back from the desk and scooping his backpack onto his shoulder, yawning again and eager to get to bed before doing anything else today. He'd become a nocturnal creature. He didn't appreciate being up at such ungodly hours.
He reached into a back pocket – not his own – as he meandered his way to the door and pulled a new cell phones from the pouch. Whistling he excused himself from the café and began walking down the sunny street, enjoying the bright reflective shimmer cast across the city skyscrapers. In the light of day he couldn't remember laying, bleeding and panting and in dark, stitching his own gushing wound and praying he wasn't too far gone. He had a short-term memory like that.
Carefully spacing his steps to avoid all the cracks in the sidewalk, Bannon flipped the cell open and neatly dialed 111-343-4343 with his thumb. The crowds around him got thick and noisy as he passed into the downtown arteries of the thunderous metropolis. Just as he reached a crosswalk the dial tone ended and a familiar, emotionless voice buzzed across the line.
"What is it, Red X?"
He cheered immediately at the sound of her voice. Oddly, for such a Gloomy-Gus she managed to make him feel ridiculously happy today. He moved quickly through the crowd, tucking the phone under his ear as he greeted his friend. "Wren! Love! How are you? Still stunning your electronic pals with your dazzling wit and good-humor?"
Her reply was as sour as a computerized voice can manage. "I see your humor has not suffered any damage. What is the purpose of your call? You said you would not bother me for some time."
"It's been some time…" he said winningly.
"What is it?"
He reluctantly let the jokes go; knowing Wren would be one to get annoyed if he stretched his luck. She didn't like him calling her on their secret hot-line. Connected at all times to the sounds of radio and satellite signals throughout the city she could pick out that specific number from the masses and intercept the invalid signal. Thus, a convenient – but seldom used – connection that he was lucky to have.
"I have a favor to ask," he confessed, shouldering his way past a solid group of teenagers in clown make-up and street-clothes. "I wondered if you could connect me with the phone-lines in the old toy factory. You'll hear a bunch of electronic activity in there. I want you to patch me through so I can have a word with someone."
A pause…then:
"You wish to contact Blockbuster. The criminal? That is the man who seeks to kill you?"
He chuckled, less than concerned about himself than her piece of mind. "Yeah. That's his nasty voice you've been hearing over the radio frequencies. Not so untraceable when you know who to look for is he?"
"And you wish to speak with him?" There was another pause. "Are you certain this is wise?"
Bannon decided this was the Wren equivalent of 'Have you lost you ever-loving mind!' He paused beside a wide side-alley where a group of teenagers had laid out a cardboard box on the cement beside an old-school stereo. They had hypnotic techno playing while a skinny blond girl moon-walked. He amused himself dancing down the street while he thought of a proper reply. He drew many bewildered stares, but had his eyes closed and didn't notice.
"Wren, I promise I know what I'm doing here. Really. All you've gotta do is connect me and maybe distort my voice a bit? Please? I'll seriously leave you alone this time. Really."
A beat. "Alright, then."
"Fo' real? I thought you were gonna make a bigger fuss than that!"
"X…"
"Just kidding. Go on."
There was a momentary crackle of lines being crosses and the beeping tell-tale sign of satellites beaming things were they were not originally meant to go, but he ignored it. Finally there came a distant ringing and a click as the phone was answered. Bannon felt his body thrill, skin tingling with pent up adrenaline and he shivered. He sensed the man on the other end had his ear to the phone, waiting for him to speak first, probably already sensing something was out of whack.
"Hey, BB! That you?" he began brightly. "How's it going? Good I hope."
"Red X, is it?" Blockbuster said mildly. His voice had all the charm of gravel in a wood-chucker. A low and cavernous tone painted over with ill-bred malice. "Oh dear, it seems you're going one step further aren't you? Brave boy." Bannon experienced a momentary flare of temper at the superior tone interwoven through his fine words. It struck an infinitesimal chord somewhere in the back of his mind and rang through his head like a ripples from a tuning fork.
"Nah. I'm not brave, just an opportunist," he quipped. "Having a trump card makes you bold, yu' know. Kinda silly right? But what do I know, I'm sure a bold guy like you wins poker all the time, right?"
There came a terse pause. "Do you know why I haven't killed you yet?" Blockbuster asked him finally, carefully. As if questioning a small child or trauma victim who might, at any moment, collapse into a dithering mass of idiocy. Or maybe that was his imagination running away with him. Nevertheless, he shrugged to himself and coughed out a polite-but-not-so-polite answer.
"You can't catch me? No one can?"
"It's because I want you to recognize something," Blockbuster continued, ignoring the interruption. "That you are a criminal, a petty criminal in this city that belongs to me."
Bannon blinked. "This city doesn't belong to you," he said matter-factly, almost surprised by his own assurance.
"Pardon?"
"This city doesn't belong to you. Do what you want, this city won't ever belong to you," Bannon said icily, colder inside than he could have imagined possible. "You can scratch and claw and struggle, but you'll never scare me. You won't out last the Titans and you'll never be anything but second, probably third best to the criminals that have already held this city. Face it, you're going to be in the shadow of a dead man for your entire criminal career."
A taunt silence.
"You know I'm right," Bannon murmured. "You have to know who I'm talking about..."
"If you would like to prove who is truly 'second best' why don't you meet me in the park tonight. One AM."
The thief chuckled. "Why so you and your gang of thugs can shoot at me?"
"Meet me. Only me."
The line went dead…and Wren immediately stepped in. Her voice over the phone sounded frigid, almost angry but Bannon blamed this on the bad connection. "This is a foolish and dangerous idea," she stated obviously, convinced that Ban simply could not see the correlation between meeting Blockbuster and an untimely demise. The teenager sighed, toying with slowly reddening tip of darkly dyed hair. He thought it was cute how stupid she thought he was.
"I'm not going," he said with a short laugh.
"Then why did you make him so angry? He will only seek to terminate you all the more. The probability of your death is much higher now. You only have a –,"
"La la la! I don't want to hear statistics," Bannon broke in loudly, dancing slightly. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and cooed soothingly into the mouthpiece. "Don't worry. This is all part of my brilliant plan. I promise." Then with that he snapped the little phone closed and pitched it hard as he could into high traffic. He whistled cheerfully, turning away from the resulting fender bender and strolled down the street.
-heist-
Author's Note: Ahh, nothing like a plot point making its mark in the middle of a story. Hurrah! I'm getting closer and ever closer to making some kind of point to this tale. Maybe even a chapter where something INTERESTING happens. No! Really I promise! I'd be going faster if not for my new preoccupation with It's almost as fun as fanfiction. I've even setup a lovely little account there for original works. Same penname.
Cheezit: What she's trying to say is this is a shameless insert. Go check it out.
Cloud8.9: How does she have time to live with all the crap she's writing? It's not human I tell you!
Me: Ah, get bent, all of you.
