"I ain't kidding, Richie! I flew home from the docks and I could hear a little know-it-all kid in the crowd shout out: 'You rule, Shock!'"
"Snkkkt—Ha ha ha ha ha!"
"Yo! It ain't funny! I gotta watch for stuff like that! The next thing you know, the headlines will be calling me 'Shock' clear across Jump City!"
"That's just so killer-sad! Having a rough time startin' anew with the Titans?"
"I can handle myself, man," Static waves nonchalantly and leans back in the chair of the Titan's Computer. He smirks and speaks towards the distant microphone: "It's indescribably badass, Richie. I feel like I'm in the big leagues now!"
"I haven't heard you this excited since you once fought alongside Superman."
"I'm just surprised Robin hasn't thrown me out for all the suspicious scrapes I've had with the Bang Babies all these crazy years."
"If he's half as smart as you tell me, he knows damn well you've been the only major force in Dakota trying to take those guys down."
"Well, unless they want to 'bang' their way to Jump City and set up headquarters here, I'm pretty much as useful as a fourth-and-a-half wheel."
"Awww—No kidding?"
"Heh, I'm overexagerrating, for sure. But when you've already got Raven, Starfire, and Robin in the same vicinity thrashing crime for thrashing's sake, it's a little hard to show your good stuff… … ..whatever 'good stuff' you may have. And—dayum!—does Cyborg have the most awesomest shit to dish out—WHOOPS! Hey Richie, gotta split."
"Wait! Virgil! Don't hang up! You still haven't told me what color is Raven's und—"
BLIP!
At the sound of soft footsteps, Static spins and leans back casually with a wide grin. "Starrrrrr! Hey there, alien cutie! What is of the up? Hahahaha----!"
"…. … …," Starfire sighs. Starfire is looking down. Starfire wanders over to the kitchen unit of the main room and grabs a glass and a pitcher. In the shadowy aura of the darkening evening outside the windows, she positively looks like redheaded gravestone.
"… … ….," Static blinks. He lifts his goggles. "Hmm.. ….Whatever Terra has must be contagious." He hops up, cracks the kinks in his spine, and shuffles over to the tired Tamaranian. "So.. …like.. ….is this the anniversary of the day X'Hal had her boob exposed during the Galactic Superbowl Halftime?"
"Dearest Virgil," Starfire murmurs in a wilted voice as she pulls herself a glass of water. "It is not right to speak so jocularly about the great Goddess X'Hal. Do not worry about my countenance. It is truly of no important matter."
"Please, don't call me Vir---" Static starts, but doesn't finish. He clenches his teeth, struggles against it, and sighs peacefully before beginning again: "I'm worried about you, Star. Ever since we got back from the big battle with Chang's Muppet Babies, you've been downer than a shower drain. What's up, girl?"
"I have said before and I shall reiterate," Starfire murmurs as she floats weightedly off with the glass of water in her grasp. "It is of no concern…."
"H-Hey.. ….," Static steps in and rests a hand on her shoulder. He smiles. "I'm not just your teammate and all that jazz. Heh, as long as we're all hangin' together, I'd like to say I'm just as easily your friend! Ya know, Star?" He smiles with his teeth showing and over-enunciates: "Friendssssssss? GLORIOUS.. ….GLORIOUS FRIENDDDDDS?"
".. … … …," Starfire's lips slightly curve and a touch of warmth lights her emerald eyes.
"THERE she is!" Static leans back with her arms folded. "I knew she couldn't hold out for long. What's cookin' sour in that purty tummy of yours, Star?"
She sighs. She clutches the cold glass in two hands and takes it to her lips to sip—but doesn't. She pauses, looking into the clear water. It seems to turn to ice in her grip. ".. …. …one of the fiends that we battled with today.. …."
Static leans forward. "… ….yeah… ….?"
"… ….one of them was Tamaranian."
Static's eyes widen ever so slightly. "Shoot, no way… …."
Starfire solemnly nods, sips, and exhales: "Most emphatically 'the way'… …. …"
"Which one? Yeesh—I sure as Hell hope it ain't the grandma-haired chick that I fried to high Hell…," he winces.
"No.. ….Not at all, Static," she touches his shoulder reassuringly and paces over to the star-touched windows. "It was the smallest of the villains. The individual whose fiery countenance equally matched his warrior's strengths in battle."
"You mean the one that got away?"
She goes on: "I… …. …I could see so much pain in his face….," she stares past her reflection in the window and rubs an amber thumb across the cold condensation of the glass in her grasp. "… …as if someone or something tried to carve his expression out of a mound of pain and left behind the butchered scars of hatred… …And there is nothing righteous in that."
"Poetic, Star," Static walks up behind her and scratches his head. "But… …ermmm….To be serious—Just how do you know for sure?"
"I was able to sense within him the essence of---," she begins.. …but does not finish. Another sigh. "It is of no matter… …."
"Like heck it's not! Starfire, I never imagined I'd see a puppy this full of funk-worms, much less you!"
"Hehehehe," she manages a giggle and smiles tyredly at him. "Your choice of words is the most amusing of Terrans, friend Virgil."
He smiles back. "I'm glad that you take the time to find the joy in things as always, Star. I might be a rookie—but I can tell that that is a sign of you being the real 'you'."
She glances off with a thought as distant as her searching eyes. "The real 'me' would not let such a pained soul exist so alone and so helpless for long.. … ..," she whispers aloud.
Static is close enough to hear. "Think you might ask Robin?"
"Hmmm?"
"Robin—Ya know? The team leader who swings around and yells a lot?" Static winks. "If anyone can help you out, I'm pretty darn sure it's him."
Starfire stares at Static. She opens her mouth to speak—pauses—but then deflates with a reverse shuffle of her lethargic legs. "No. Thank you, dearest friend. But n-no. Robin does not need… …," she bites her lip and wrings her fingers around the glass of water. "… ….it is no more of his concern than yours. I mean not to worry you with the over-amplified concerns of a lone Tamaranian."
"Lone?.?.? Look, Starfire, if you would just—"
"Fare well this wondrous evening, Virgil," she floats away with half a heated voice. "Gl-Glorious Slorvax.. …. …" And she is gone.
"… … …," Static takes a deep breath and folds his arms. His brow furrows in a concerned fashion. "If she won't go to Robin about this.. ….then maybe I will.. … …"
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
It is nighttime.
The stars twinkle overhead.
It is almost always clear skies in this part of the City. I haven't memorized all the streets yet, but his one splotch of urbanity is one of a few exceptions. The other is a block of less-than-luxurious apartment complexes where Bard and I used to room together before the Titans scooped us up out of desperation. Then there's a few spots in downtown that I've grown to memorize. But this one spot… …This cluster of rich living quarters yawning forth beneath me.. …
I almost see it in my dreams.
I sit perched atop the same spot as ever—a phalanx of stone gargoyles overlooking one of the wealthiest quadrants in the City. It is a place where the luxuriant gather. Valet parking for everyone in the family including the dog. The sort of place where even the fire hydrants have their own municipal codes.
But none of that is the forefront of my mind. I gaze with bare black eyes down the road leading in from the western district of the City. I see a shuttle-van pull up. A familiar, non-dazzling logo splashed across it. There is a routine to this vehicular roamer. I know that there are approximately one dozen passengers inside. I know before I see it that the van will drive into the parking garage.
Then there is a twenty minute pause. Sometimes thirty. Maybe a little more—especially on a rainy day.
But today, the early evening sky is clear. And—sure enough—I spot the 'tradition'. Up atop the roof of the centermost apartment complex in sight, half-a-dozen young females exit the doors of a loft complex. They are teenage souls. High school age. Most older than I am. A scant few the same. One or two have a satchel and/or backpack in tow. They seem to be in a gaggle of conversation. The sweat of sports-practice clings to the brow of some of them. The others—I can't tell, nor do I try to. They exit out onto the cool, inviting rooftop of the tall building and wander to their respective places under electric lamplight where—in groups and in lonely clusters—they embark upon evening homework. The subjects of such—I cannot tell from here. But I can only imagine the hard stuff: trig, advanced English, social studies and essaying… …
It is a sorority. The name on the shuttle bus matches the name on one of the office directories of the building complex: "Akhtar Girls School". I don't know the subjects of all the courses. I don't know the majors. I don't know if the girls' families live in or out of the City like they do. All I know is that the school is filthy expensive, the sorority is extremely inclusive, and they all manage to have themselves a pretty kick-butt soccer team matched up against Jump City's finest. The rest of the details—well—is none of my business.
In fact, none of this is my business. Everynight I come here, I feel the slightest twinge of awkwardness. Of fear that I may be being somewhere or doing something that is totally, utterly wrong. Especially now that I'm not just some lonely, confused freak on the street but a true-blue Titan with many values to stand for. But—for gosh's sake—how am I ruining any 'values'? I'm just… … I'm just….
Waiting… …
Th-There!
There is nothing within my being that can deny it when my heart occasions to skip a beat. For she too has just emerged. She, with drifting movements more graceful than the wind. She, with hair more midnight than the blue sky above. She, with no greater concern or worry in the world above the perpetual state of her immaculateness.
I do not truly know how old she is. Older than I—I can only guess. Everyone, I swear, is older than me. I do not know if she's religious, agnostic, atheist. I do not know if she flies or cries in her sleep. All I know is that smile that alights the air brighter than the struggling moon overhead. And a name. A name that she seldom responds to, but is hers all the same—
"Fei-Yan!" a schoolgirl calls out. "Hey! Fei!"
She does nothing.
The girl nearly smacks herself for stupidity's sake. As her friends giggle at her, she walks briskly over and waves her hand vividly in the angel's eyesight.
Fei-Yan then notices. She looks intently at the schoolgirl, at the schoolgirl's lip as she slowly proposes something or another that I am not paying attention to. Then, in response, 'Fei' smiles lunarly and adjusts her backpack to free up both her hands and perform a series of swift, succinct hand-signs.
I can read her words from far away over here. I want to chuckle, and at the moment I forget that I have no voice to do so with.
The girls fill the distant air with their own giggles for me. Fei's merry cadence joins them, but hers is breathy and low. An incidental verbalization and nothing more. She hand-signs a few more things to her close friends. But while they sit in their own cluster, she does something predictable—to me, at least. She makes her way routine, nightly way to a greenhouse situated on the far side of the lofty sorority's rooftop. Her movement is like melting ice. That soundless grace. The dark stars off her darker hair.
I wait, as silent as I can ever be. I wait and watch.
She enters the greenhouse, unlocking the door and swiftly slipping in.
A beat. The ever-nightly beat.
And it takes her just as long to come right back out. And sure enough, with the same beautifully ridiculous look of shock and amazement on her otherwise enigmatic face, she clutches a gentle, ivory-soft carnation in her grasp. She tenderly brushes the folds with her girl-fingers, pondering.. …basking?
"Hey! Look what Fei has!"
"Oh my---It's another one!"
"Awwww… …Is it really?"
"That's the third one this month, isn't it?"
The other girls progressively flock over and huddle around her and her unwitting treasure. It is not the first time this has happened. They all speculate and giggle and produce tall tales until someone predictably restates a catch phrase that has reverberated across the air above this complex before:
"Fei's got a secret admirerrrrrr!"
Fei looks confusedly at the one orator in question. That is—until a tall, blonde friend steps in and vividly hand-signs a translation of the uttered words—To which Fei responds with a playful swat of the one girl's shoulder.
They all laugh. And so does she, for she is cradling the porcelain-perfect carnation in her even perfecter palms with the same awe and blushing curiosity as ever. And as always.. …as soon as her wordless almond eyes glance upwards towards the lofts of the City surrounding….
I am gone. In a puff of smoke.
I don't know who you are.
But I hope it's okay, because I don't really ever know who I am either.
It's not like the flowers of the field to have a hundred thousand names.
But yours is one in a million, Fei-Yan. And however which way soundless souls choose to bloom, I hope you are always and only blessed.
I shall never forget what you once did for me.
And when I walk home tonight.
I walk home happy.
Once again.
