Tempest: Chapter Fifty-Five: Proposition


Personally, Amara couldn't help but be slightly annoyed by the fact that she'd been in the process of starting another one of her heists when the assassins had grabbed her and forced her into that abandoned room of a building under construction, but this was Ra's al Ghul she was talking about; the whole cloak and dagger idea was something he was rather famous for.

She'd been joking earlier when she'd threatened to run off to Nanda Parbat but there were always possibilities, especially when these situations sometimes landed in her lap.

"Am I supposed to be impressed that you know my name?" Amara arched an eyebrow that was hidden behind her mask before allowing a small smirk. "Well, one of them. Personally, I've got far too many names for you to be able to track them all, but I commend you for trying."

Ra's considered her. "You do make a habit of being rather slippery."

Amara brushed her crimson hair over her shoulder, trying not to look a little proud of that fact, but it was difficult to do, since this was Ra's al Ghul, the leader of the League of Shadows.

"I must admit I was rather surprised to discover that Masquerade was so young," he continued and Amara narrowed her eyes.

"What can I say?" She shrugged. "I love an element of surprise."

"Indeed," Ra's drawled out. "And yet you still haven't given me a response."

Amara crossed her arms, looking from Ra's to his men, idly forming a plan of escape before leaning back suddenly in her chair and hooking her legs over one another on top of the table, showcasing the golden heels without too much effort.

"I don't make it a habit to contract outside of Oracle's little circle of hell," Amara said finally.

That appeared to amuse him, though Amara couldn't be sure exactly why.

"But if I did," she wheedled a moment later, "I'd only work with Cheshire and never be involved with assassinations. I have my own reputation to consider."

"And here I thought you didn't make it a habit to contract outside of Oracle," he replied.

Red-painted lips curled. "And what makes you think she doesn't already know?"

She uncrossed her legs and pulled herself into a standing position. "I reserve the right to refuse any job you offer me and refuse any job that involves murder. Cheshire knows how to find me."

Ra's looked like he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about one of his assassins being able to be contacted at any moment in time, but Amara didn't stick around long enough to listen to his words, striding towards the gaping area where a window of glass would soon be placed, raising one arm horizontally at her chest.

The thick pseudo-gold bracelet was rather unassuming, but the next second, a tensile wire had been shot from her wrist, firing off into the night and she was gone with it.


The next few hours Amara was more than a little paranoid, especially with the whole matter with Ra's. The last name Isley wasn't necessarily common but it wasn't uncommon either. Each of her aliases had paper trails in order to give validity to the aliases. Maeve Isley was one of her newer ones and there wasn't as much for it and eventually Ra's was going to realize that the name was utterly useless.

She rewrote her code on BlackNet and stayed at home and kept her phone off, which was an impressive feat for someone like her who needed to be in contact with several people at all times (namely Wally, Roy, and Dick).

"I thought you would want to hang out with your friends today," Pamela said as she flicked through the channels on the TV. Harley was out for the time being, meeting a patient in person at their place.

"Going out involves being seen on camera," Amara said, "better not risk it."

Pamela arched an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"

"It depends on the job," Amara said with a frown, running a hand through her hair. "I might need to burn an alias…"

That made Pamela pause in order to look at her daughter. She knew, of course, that Barry and Iris didn't approve of Amara's use of BlackNet, but she and Harley, both having lives as villains, were a bit more lenient.

"Baby, are you in trouble?" she asked.

"Not currently," Amara said. "We'll see." Her eyes drifted off in thought before her fingers spurred to action across the keyboard, erasing everything she had Maeve Isley. Better safe than sorry, and it would take her less than an hour to come up with a new alias to replace the one that she'd just lost.

"Be careful, all right?"

Amara lifted her head to turn towards her mother. Pamela did serious very well with a flat stare and a hand on her hip.

"I promise," Amara said.

Pamela arched an eyebrow.

"I promise on Perun," Amara added with emphasis. The god of storms was one that the Priests of Perun had believed so completely in, but Amara was still up in the air about believing in him.

Pamela's expression didn't change and Amara couldn't help but grin. Her mother knew her well enough to doubt her words on swearing by Perun.

Amara's computer gave a small ding of noise and she removed her gaze from locking with Pamela's in order to pull BlackNet up once more. She was hardly ever off it, furthering the belief of her omnipresence. But the notification hadn't come from her usual hangouts on the BlackNet, but what was generally called the deep net, but the inter-web might've been a better term. It was basically what was considered the 'space' between each of the circles in the BlackNet that were named after Dante's Inferno.

Amara didn't spend a lot of time in the inter-web, but it was made almost entirely of chartrooms and she'd never really had the interest, and she had two personas on the BlackNet already that she hadn't wanted to make another one simply to peruse the chats…but Amara was very bad at keeping to her decisions.

So she'd taken a new pseudonym and began rifling through the deep net aimlessly using the code language of malbolge. It would take someone very skilled in hacking to figure out what it said.

And oddly enough someone had translated the message she'd left, which had been a few of the beginning lines from Romeo and Juliet in malbolge.

Dorian Gray: Fan of Shakespeare?

Her lips twitched in amusement. The past few days she'd been looking into books related to poetry and plays which was what her next English essay was on. And Masquerade had a love for things with a lot of history attached to them. She had a number of first edition poetry books in her safe house in Fiji (the very same ones that she'd once left at Artemis' apartment for safe keeping), but she had a lot of things in her safe house in Fiji that she didn't touch.

The name Dorian Gray was interesting name to take, given how self-absorbed the one who had borne it had been, keeping his soul in a painting in order to remain young…unless it was meant to be ironic, like the own name she was using.

Countess de Winter: Fan of Malbolge?

Dorian Gray: I asked you first.

Amara stifled her snort as her mother went back to what she'd been doing previously, leaving her daughter to her own mischief.

Countess de Winter: Slightly. You?

Dorian Gray: Slightly.

That made Amara shake her head and roll her eyes as she typed out her response.

Countess de Winter: Do you make it a habit to be irritating?

Dorian Gray: Depends on the day.

She actually laughed out loud at that one. Whoever it was that was on the opposite end had a smart mouth, she'd give them that.

Countess de Winter: I'm writing an essay on the use of iambic pentameter in literary pieces. Shakespeare happens to be one of the best ones to use.

Dorian Gray: I hear The Tempest is a good piece to use.

Countess de Winter: Literature nut?

Dorian Gray: Not really. Unfortunately I've had to read Shakespeare for class.

Saying something like that made it hard to tell what age the person was that she was messaging. They could've been from a posh academy school or in high school or college. Amara couldn't really be sure, but it wasn't like there was much point to their current chat, just meaningless exchanges of information that were largely useless.

Countess de Winter: Didn't like it?

Dorian Gray: I'm stronger in math than I am in English

Countess de Winter: Ohhh…you're one of those guys

Dorian Gray: ?

Countess de Winter: Nerds :)

She tapped her fingers across the keyboard, trailing deep into his code with intrigue. Something about it looked familiar, though she couldn't really say why. Some hackers left hidden clues to who they were deep within the code, most of which others rarely found (which tended to give the hacker an ego boost, Amara knew this from experience). With Amara, her code was made into the shape of an ivy leaf, something that wasn't too difficult to do, and her age hidden among various numbers so that most didn't give it a second look-over.

Amara wasn't going to make that same mistake.

Her eyes trailed over the mass of numbers before finding two that didn't fit.

13

All right, she could work with that. It would be a bit uncomfortable chatting on an illegal site with someone far older than her, but them being the same age certainly helped.

She didn't think that any of her parents would really approve of her chatting with someone she didn't know on the internet. Barry and Iris had made her watch a video on cyber-bullying back in July that basically warned against giving out personal information over the internet. That was fine. Amara didn't really like giving her own personal information out; that made it easier for people to find you and she'd had quite enough of that with Mardon, thank you very much.

Harley was probably the most chill about what she did with BlackNet, and she'd probably just stick to the basics: Don't tell them your name and don't tell them where you live. And Amara thought that was sage advice.

She was about to type something more when her phone gave a buzz, reading: Upstairs.

Amara frowned, shutting her laptop and tucking it under her arm before making her way to the trapdoor and arched an eyebrow at the young woman perched on her chaise.

"You have to stop sneaking into my room, Jade," she said, plugging her laptop in and resting it on the desk to charge.

"Aw, but it's more fun." Jade's lips curved into a feral grin.

She wasn't wearing her assassin outfit and there was a box at her feet that Amara didn't remember there being. Jade's smile fell slightly.

"I'm sorry about burning one of your aliases," she said seriously, "but Ra's has been very interested in retaining a thief and I figured you'd be the best person to turn him down if you needed to."

Amara made a gesture with her hand and Jade swung her legs off the side of the chaise to allow her to sit beside her.

"Its fine, the name was too close to my real one, anyways," Amara assured her in an almost careless manner. "I can always make another one…and I haven't turned him down yet."

Jade's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. "You haven't?" she repeated dubiously.

"Well, he hasn't really told me what he wants me to steal." Amara gave a shrug. "I told him I get to veto jobs."

Jade appraised her in a manner that made Amara look away to consider the box Jade had obviously brought with her. "What's this supposed to be?"

"Oh, it was supposed to be an apology gift for, you know, the whole thing with Ra's—"

Amara pulled the lid off and blinked owlishly for a few moments before looking back at her. "Jade, did you rob a cosmetics store?"

"Eh…maybe." Jade didn't appear too concerned at the prospect, though Amara couldn't really say that she was surprised.

Amara hadn't seen so many shades of lipstick in her whole life or eye-shadow and eyeliner. Jade really did go all out.

"Oh, Jade," she laughed, "you're too good to me."


The simulation had gone terribly, worse than any of them could've possibly imagined. Dick didn't think he'd ever been quite so terrified on a mission than the one the simulation had come up with.

The day had started fine, with the mind-link in place to an artificial reality. The start of it had been pretty tame, the Justice League being killed off by invading aliens, but they had known then that it was just a simulation. It wasn't until the Team suffered their first casualty that things went sideways. Artemis' death had shaken them all and with M'gann psychically linked to them, her pain made the whole thing more real than anything else.

It was a train-for-failure, making it impossible to succeed until each member of the Team had suffered a death and all were brought out of it by M'gann's shock of her own death.

But the trauma lingered, and Conner had stormed out of his session with Dinah, disappearing out of the Cave without a second look back.

Personally, Dick thought he might've had the better idea.


It was a day later when Amara found herself rather subsequently surprised by the over-loud purring of an engine that grew closer and closer before stopping outside the house.

"What the hell is that?" Harley demanded, looking through the kitchen window, but Amara was a step ahead of her, wrenching the door open to stare outside.

"What the actual fuck?" she demanded, seeing Conner pull himself out of something that appeared to be a flight-capable motorized tricycle, with Wolf following after, pure white against the grass.

"Um, hi," Conner gave a small wave that was just that side of sheepish.

"What the hell is that?" Amara demanded, repeating Harley's words, her eyes bulging as she stabbed a finger towards the thing he'd rode up in.

"Sphere," Conner said unperturbed and Amara looked like she wanted to smack him, which was an accurate –albeit amusing– assessment. "It's complicated."

"I'll bet," Amara said, leaning against the side of the doorway, crossing her arms. "How'd you find me? Wally?"

Wally and Artemis were the only ones that had been to Pamela and Harley's place; they'd be the only ones that would know how to find her.

"Black Canary showed me how to track a phone a few weeks ago," Conner admitted and Amara groaned loudly.

Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed him with an oddly calculating look. "Come in, then," she said, gesturing to the space beside her and he gave her a small smile, walking past her with Wolf at his heels, barking a greeting to Amara that made her pet his head good-naturedly.

Conner looked around the room with wide eyes, taking in Harley Quinn with her hair out of its signature pigtails still wearing her pajamas and holding her mallet aloft as if ready to strike him down, which, given who Harley was, was incredibly likely.

"So, um, this is Harley, she's my mom's girlfriend," Amara mentioned awkwardly, gesturing towards the blonde before pointing to Conner. "This is Conner, he's a friend of mine."

"Right," Harley said slowly, relaxing her grip on the mallet, taking note of the S on his shirt and the giant wolf beside him. "Okay…" It was apparently too much for her to comprehend because she simply turned on her heel and walked back in the direction of the room she and Pamela shared.

"Is this about the simulation?" Amara asked with a furrowed brow as she tilted her head to meet his eyes. She and Conner had been made from similar circumstances, there were things about each other that only the two could understand. Still, Amara spent far more time with Wally, Artemis, and Dick of the Team than Conner or M'gann or Kaldur, but Artemis was her partner, and she'd known the three the longest and the best. Him coming to see her wasn't very common.

He sat down heavily on the couch and Wolf jumped up to sit beside him and in between him and Amara as she followed. "Wally told you," he surmised.

"Artemis actually," Amara admitted. "She said it wasn't as bad for her but it was worse for the rest of you."

Conner gritted his teeth together. "It should be easier for me," he said finally, "I'm Superman's clone. I should be able to brush it off."

"It's called trauma for a reason." Amara tilted her head, her expression open. "I've been in and out of therapy since Barry and Iris adopted me."

That surprised him. Of course, he knew Black Canary was her therapist and they had a rapport that was far too close to just be mentor and protégée, but he hadn't realized just how long she'd been going.

"Being raised by Weather Wizard messed me up and being almost killed by Merlyn was just as bad," Amara said seriously.

Conner couldn't see very much of her chest with the shirt she was wearing, but the only thing he could make out was the familiar fractal scarring there, not the circular scars that had come from the archer's arrows. That event had been before his time, but he'd heard the cousins mention it from time to time.

"You're not Superman, you don't need to hold yourself higher than everyone else," Amara pointed out.

"What about you?" he returned, holding back his temper. Amara wasn't someone that needed to see his fury again; he still remembered how she'd flinched the first time he'd exploded when they were in the same room. "You don't hold yourself higher?"

Amara snorted, running a hand through her hair. "Babe, I'm the biological daughter of Poison Ivy and Weather Wizard and the adoptive one of Flash. I'm the protégée of Black Canary and have three different masked personas and occasionally partner with an assassin. I don't have standards anymore."

That made him actually laugh. "Is that why you flirt all the time?"

Amara shrugged slightly. "Flirting's fun…besides, watching Robin turn red always makes my day…" Her smile faded. "I generally only do that around people I'm really comfortable with."

Conner gave her a confused look and she grimaced.

"I have a problem with pheromone-control. Mom's got it too, but she actually controls it." Amara looked vaguely annoyed about it all. "I'm a born-meta-human, all of my powers are subconscious."

"And the pheromones…?"

"Well, the only time I've really used them on a mission was when I was trying to convince someone to forget about me, because they're highly suggestible," Amara explained, "I usually go with two opposites, because sometimes when people meet me, they either really like me or really hate me."

That didn't sound very pleasant and the scowl on Amara's lips only reaffirmed that belief. It sounded like Amara couldn't even be certain that anyone outside her close friends actually legitimately liked her.

"I'm glad I don't have that," he said and Amara winked.

"Count your lucky stars, Gene Pool," she said with a grin that he didn't completely trust. "Now are you going to tell me what happened to Sphere, or not?"

His expression turned sheepish as he tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, thinking about the New Gods of New Genesis. Even explaining what had happened was going to take time. "It's a long story."

"I don't have anywhere to be."


"You have a problem, a very serious problem."

"I know," Dick grated.

They were flinging batarangs at a target a few feet away from them in the Bat Cave. Roy was a fair shot, but not really great.

"I mean it's really only gotten worse," Roy said and Dick scowled at him. "Hey, you're the one with a crush on Amara Allen, the daughter of Flash and Weather Wizard and Poison Ivy."

Dick groaned out loud. This was not where he'd wanted this conversation to go. He was still trying to come to terms with the traumatic simulation they'd gone through. Talking about his feelings was the last thing he wanted to do.

"She is cute, I'll give her that," Roy conceded, eyeing him for a reaction, "but maybe you like that she can kick your ass."

"I hate you," Dick decided furiously, his face lighting up enough to make Roy laugh. "And it's actually worse."

"Worse how?" Roy arched an eyebrow as Dick handed him a disposable cell wordlessly. The texts were simple, nothing that Roy would consider flirting or anything like it, they were the kind you'd generally see between two people just getting to know one another. "Dorian Gray?...Wait, Countess de Winter, is that her?"

Dick had a hand pressed over his eyes.

"You're messaging Amy over chat? Was your phone dead or something?" Roy snorted.

"She doesn't know it's me," Dick said heatedly, snatching the phone back from him and shoving it into his pocket. "And I didn't really go onto BlackNet to message her, but the chat was open and it was her code and, well…" He gave a helpless gesture.

"You are so gone on her," Roy had a startled realization.

"Shut up."

Roy grimaced. "And she's not really interested in romance…at least not right now." She had been rather upfront about that.

"She's probably not all that interested…she was flirting with Zatanna," Dick muttered, throwing his batarang.

"Yeah, but she flirts with a lot of people." Roy rolled his eyes. "Zatanna probably made her at ease if she was flirting almost right after they met. She doesn't really do that with strangers. Besides, she's had a crush on Wonder Woman before, and what do Wonder Woman and Zatanna have in common?"

"Black hair and blue eyes," Dick said, turning faintly pink.

"Imagine having that physical similarity," Roy said in a deadpan. "She probably talks to you the most out of all her friends. You guys practically went on a date to an orchard!"

Dick wrinkled his nose.

"What I'm saying is…maybe she'll like you like that one day, maybe she won't, but you're clearly her type…and maybe you don't want to wait around for her to make up her mind. Maybe you should go on your own dates, find someone that loves you like that."

Dick thought about it. Ironically, the only other girl he'd really been interested in was Zatanna, who had practically flirted with him the day they'd met. She was cute and had skills in sorcery, and Dick really liked her smile.

"I didn't think you'd be a good person for giving dating advice," he said finally and Roy rolled his eyes.

"I'm full of boundless wisdom," he said as Dick's disposable buzzed and he pulled it out.

Countess de Winter: I've decided to overlook your flaw that is love for math

He couldn't help how his lips curved into a smile.