The Severance Precept I
CW: Slight (Medical) Gore
August 3rd
07:40 EDT
Mount Justice
Novia stirs the pancake batter tenderly. Every other minute, she looks up at M'gann, hoping the Martian would soon direct her to stop stirring. But no, she is preoccupied with her cookbook, reading every line of instruction with utmost care.
"Okay, we'll need onions, parsley, cheese, tomatoes—" M'gann murmurs the list of ingredients, her hand waving towards the refrigerator and pantry. They open and the respective ingredients drift out, settling onto the counter.
She looks back at Novia, "Are you allergic to cinnamon?"
Novia shakes her head. Well, at least she doesn't think so.
"Okay good! We can add some to the pancakes!" M'gann says just as a spoonful of cinnamon empties into the bowl.
As Novia stirs the batter once more, the silence of The Cave reminds her that there's another resident. Even though they are quiet themselves, she finds it odd that she hasn't seen them all morning.
"Where's Superboy?" She asks, finally setting the bowl down. She has grown weary of stirring. No amount of Canary's training could prepare her for something so repetitive.
M'gann looks up in thought, "Well, he did say he was going out for some fresh air,"
It makes Novia furrow her brows. Given the fact that Superboy has been in a pod most of his life, she questions his need for fresh air. But she has to also consider that him being in that pod all his life must make him strive for authenticity. A world not conjured by g-gnomes.
"Thanks for helping me with breakfast, by the way," M'gann tells her, "I usually ask Superboy, but cooking never seems to excite him,"
Novia catches the carton of eggs and the metal bowl that hovers over her. "It's probably a guy thing," she muses as her fingers brush along the hard surface of the eggshells. She begins to crack them into the bowl one by one until yellow yokes swirl among translucent glairs.
Chopped vegetables and seasoning is added as the bowl is stirred by M'gann's telekinesis. Two skillets are placed on the stovetop, oil sending them to cackle within moments. Above this, she hears the roar of the zeta-beam. The computer comes to life as it announces:
Recognized: Robin B-01
Aqualad B-02
Kid Flash B-03
Novia exhales, preparing herself for the oncoming wind as Kid Flash beelines into the kitchen.
"Hope you ladies made enough for five!" Kid exclaims. Clearly oblivious to how close he was to knocking down everything. Novia rushes to stop the remaining utensils from shaking. Sprawled across the table, she grimaces.
"Morning, guys!" M'gann beams.
"Good morning M'gann, Novia," Kaldur greets.
"What's up?" Robin says.
"Morning," Novia breathes as the last bowl is steadied by her hand.
Kid's eyes wander between M'gann and Novia, examining the girls briefly, "Woah a slumber party? Why wasn't I invited?" He asks slyly.
M'gann looks down at her attire, then at Novia's. Finally realizing that the two had been in their pajamas the entire time, she facepalms, "Hel-lo Megan! Can't believe I forgot!" With a simple thought, her pajamas melt away and are replaced with her blue and white uniform. "Much better,"
Novia glimpses over the boys. It's after seven in the morning and they're already suited up. "Isn't it a bit too early to be in those?" She asks, showing no desire to change out of her gray nightshirt.
Kid Flash shrugs, "Hey, we're hungry for a mission—" then he grabs a plate and extends it M'gann, "and some homemade pancakes,"
M'gann giggles, "Here you go, Wally," Eight fresh pancakes, still hot, flips onto his plate. The speedster doesn't wait for it to cool before chowing down.
M'gann hands Novia a plate with an omelet and two pancakes. Then she offers some to Kaldur and Robin, "You two hungry as well?"
"I've already eaten," Aqualad assures graciously.
"Same here," Robin says.
Kid swallows, "Yeah, Boy Wonder has a butler to prep his meals." Robin shoots him an acidic look as if to tell him to shut up.
"You have a butler?" M'gann gasps as she adds a few more pancakes and omelets to Wally's plate.
"Shocking," Novia mutters as she forks at her sans-butler-prepped meal. Slightly jealous. But also, unamused by this knowledge. It half-explains his sense of entitlement. She gets it—the kid's rich. Knowing this makes her own appetite begin to dwindle.
"…So, where is Superboy?" Kaldur asks in an attempt to change both the subject and atmosphere in the room
M'gann joins the group at the counter with her own plate of food. "He said he needed some fresh air. Maybe he's walking around Happy Harbor?"
"It is good to know that he is adjusting accordingly," Aqualad says.
Wally watches the group with a puzzled expression. He swallows and sets down his fork. "Uh… The dude must be faster than me because he's actually in Metropolis."
Everyone turns to Wally, a mixture of shock and confusion in each of their expression as they stare at the speedster. Yet, he shrugs casually, "What? Unlike you guys, I watch the news."
Novia and M'gann exchange brief eye contact before dashing out towards the lounge. The TV flashes on, feeding the live news coverage over Metropolis. There, amongst the chaos of a near-collapsing suspension bridge, is—not one—but two S-shield-bearing heroes.
§§§
It's now clear that Wally was cheating into the second round. At first, Novia couldn't tell, his speed had only adjusted slightly. But now she's fully aware of his antics. She doubts any normal person could block a puck so well.
She had been cheering on Kaldur, hoping that he'd pull through even though he was losing by three points. But with the final goal, Wally steals the game. The holographic hockey table buzzes at Kaldur's defeat. Wally grins, smug as he takes another bite of his banana. Kaldur grimaces and opens his mouth as if to say something—likely keen on his cheating as well. But he's drowned out by the computer.
Recognized: Superboy B-04
Superboy marches towards them. His face marred with anger and frustration.
"Hey, Superboy! How was Metropolis?" M'gann asks cheerfully. As he pushes past her, she realizes that her words fail to reach him.
The game table fades away and M'gann's smile goes along with it.
In the distance, a woman clears her throat, "Ready for training everyone?" Black Canary emerges from an adjacent hall. Accompanied by Martian Manhunter, the two approach the team.
"Uncle J'onn!" M'gann's face relights at the sight of her uncle. She runs over to embrace her mentor.
"M'gann," He returns the gesture, "I was in the neighborhood. So, I thought I'd see how you're adjusting,"
"A few bumps, but I'm learning!" M'gann admits. Her mentor expresses apparent delight knowing that all is well with her progress.
The exchange between the two sparks something in Superboy. His face softens and grows almost remorseful. He turns to leave but is caught by Canary. "Stick around," she orders. Her voice easily projecting across the room. "Class is in session,"
Superboy halts and turns to face Canary as she steps towards the center of the room. He crosses his arms and his face hardens once more.
Acknowledging her presence, the floor lights up. She turns to the majority of the team, "I consider it an honor to be your teacher. Some of you may know from our previous sessions that I'll throw a lot at you," Her gaze meets Novia. The girl looks away from Canary sheepishly, recalling all her training blunders and losses to the woman.
Canary begins to remove her jacket, "I'll teach you everything that I've learned from my own mentors—ugh," She retracts, wincing as she reveals her bandaged arm, "—and… my own bruises."
"What happened?" M'gann asks, staring at the wound with concern.
"The job," Canary responds, tossing her jacket to the side.
"Combat is about controlling conflict—putting the battle on your terms. You should always be acting—never reacting." She explains, expressing the desire to continue but she quickly realizes her words can only reach so far.
Her tone changes, "I'll need a sparring partner,"
The request sends a shock through Novia. It has to be anyone but her. She knows Canary's training only leads to embarrassment in the end. She feels herself take a step back at the thought of having to go up on that platform.
"Right here!" Kid raises his hand and steps up towards the training platform. He finishes the last of his banana and smirks at Canary, "After this—swish—I'll show you my moves," He flirts as he tosses his banana peel in the nearest bin.
He's done. Novia winces in thought
Canary's serious demeanor immediately shifts into a smirk. Without warning, she strikes. A blow towards the left of his face. Kid reacts quickly, blocking her punch. But before he is able to take her arm, she rotates and drops, delivering a leg sweep.
An attack on his ability's key constituents.
With his legs taken out, Kid falls flat on his back. A loud thud resonates in the room and the platform wastes no time to announce his failure.
"Nn—Never hurt… so good…" Kid groans. Somehow more focused on retaining his composure than acknowledging he failed.
Ouch, Novia mouths, pulling her capelet over her lips to shield her shock. The thud had forced her to recall the many times she felt Canary's infamous leg sweeps. She can feel her back grow sore at the thought.
"Good block, Wally," Canary offers her hand to help the speedster up. "But did anyone see what he did wrong?"
"Ooh!" Robin raises his hand, "He hit on teacher and got served?"
"Dude!"
Canary smiles gently at the joke, "No. He allowed me to dictate the terms of—"
"Oh, please."
All eyes shift to Superboy who had been silently spectating. But now, whatever patience he had, is completely worn thin. "I'm a weapon created for combat. With my powers, the battle is always on my side. This session is a waste of my time," He sneers.
Canary takes in his words with careful consideration. She analyzes him. Then after some thought:
"Prove it," she taunts with the same smirk she gave to Wally. Superboy raises a brow at her nerve. But nevertheless, he joins her on the platform.
The two position themselves for combat, eyes locked in anticipation. Superboy strikes first, aiming for her face. She sidesteps and grabs onto his forearm. His astonishment gives Canary enough time to shift her weight and toss him across the platform.
As Superboy lands, the training platform announces his failure. A sound that only adds to his rage.
Robin bursts out laughing, but he's quickly silenced by a jab from Aqualad. He continues, however. Resorting to internal chuckles for the time being. His body shakes in amusement.
Superboy growls and recovers quickly. His stance this time is a bit sloppier.
Canary leaves her stance, "You're angry. Good. But don't react. Channel that anger—"
He charges towards her before she is able to finish.
She leaps, using Superboy's shoulders to aid her back spring. The sudden weight pushes Superboy forward but he regains balance quickly—not allowing the small woman's antics to get to him. Quickly, he turns back with an extended fist towards her.
Canary, sensing this, drops in the nick of time and pivots into a reversed leg sweep. Superboy falls to his back. His second defeat is registered by the training platform. And his body tenses in anger.
The team winces at Superboy's second fall. Except for Robin, who continues to hide his laughter the best he can.
Canary tries to offer her hand to the boy, but he pushes it away. "That's it—I'm done," he barks.
"Training is mandatory," Canary presses despite being faced with an irate Kryptonian.
The room blares upon an alert from the computer. The sound temporarily masks the tension between Canary and Superboy and Batman's face appears before them on a holographic screen
"Batman to Cave. Five hours ago, a new menace attacked Green Arrow and Black Canary,"
Another screen emerges, revealing the image of an expressionless man. His imposing figure might be owed to his red eyes and toned stature.
"The attacker was capable of studying then mimicking powers and abilities. Arrow called in reinforcements—which proved to be disastrous as our foe gained more and more power with each new combatant." Batman explains as the second screen replays the battle between the League and the large man. Each time a member moves to attack, he simply uses their power against them.
"Woah, one guy with the power of the whole League?" Wally says, astounded.
"In the end, it took eight Leaguers four hours to dismantle the android," Batman continues.
Android? Novia squints. Earlier she swore that guy was a human.
Robin steps forward, "So, who made it? T.O Morrow?"
"Good guess, Robin. But Red Tornado doesn't think so," Batman replies.
"The technology bears the signature of Professor Ivo," Martian Manhunter clarifies.
Novia wants to ask exactly who Professor Ivo is—or even T.O Morrow. But she continues to listen in hopes that their importance will be explained somehow through the conversation.
"But, Ivo's dead," Aqualad adds. His words, although a statement, sounds uncertain. As if he needs confirmation.
"So, we all thought—" Canary sighs, "—or hoped,"
A map appears on screen as Batman continues to speak, "To make certain that this threat remains neutralized, we're sending two trucks carrying the android's parts to two separate S.T.A.R Labs facilities—one in Boston and the other in New York. Every precaution is being taken. We will deploy four additional decoy trucks to create confusion. In case Ivo or anyone tries to salvage the remains. The six of you will split into undercover teams and safeguard the trucks containing the parts."
"Yes! Road trip!" Wally cheers. His mission-hunger satiated for the day.
Superboy crosses his arms, "So now we take out your trash?"
Batman glares down at him, "You had something better to do?"
Superboy clenches his fists, and he opens his mouth as if to respond, but Aqualad immediately cuts him off.
"Coordinates received. We are on our way,"
20:08 EDT
Litchfield County
Novia looks down at her civilian attire, settling that this may be the closest thing to a onesie she will ever get to wear. And even this suit is something that she could never hope to wear in humid—sometimes temperate—Bermuda.
The attire is black with two light blue trimmings trailing down from the shoulders towards her wrists. It's quite similar to her costume's colors. However, this suit isn't specially made for her powers. She can tell by how it lacks the adhesiveness to her skin. Its only purpose, it seems, is to be fire and damage resistant.
Her eyes trail down towards the black and blue motorbike underneath her. It purrs steadily. A small and compact bike, but inconspicuously powerful enough to travel hundreds of miles. She rotates her black helmet in her hands before pulling it on. The visor darkens the world around her.
Beyond the thrushes and trees, she hears the clanking of overhead doors and metal containments being closed. S.T.A.R Labs operatives can be heard over the comms conversing about the status of the cargo.
Superboy has been gazing into this same forest for a while, evidently deep in thought. His expression seems peaceful—not angry as he was after his trip to Metropolis or even enraged following Canary's training. His eyes are searching, longing for something.
"Hey, you know your kickstand is still down?"
She nearly loses balance at the suddenness of Wally's voice. Novia raises a brow, "My—what?" She traces his stare. It takes her a few seconds before she realizes what he means. The small stick that props up the bike. Upon seeing it, she kicks it up immediately.
Robin looks over at the two, "Wait—is this your first time on a motorbike?"
Novia glares at him, deciding whether or not to indulge.
But her silence is all the confirmation he needs. "Oh, this is gonna be good," Robin chuckles, already foreseeing her struggle. He regains himself, still smiling widely, "Just stay whelmed, Glass."
Novia feels her brows knit together. An uneasy expression obscured by the tint in her visors.
Kid clears his throat, drawing her attention. "What he means is: Just roll the right handle forward and make sure to lean when you're turning." A grin spreads across his face, "But if you're still nervous, you can ride with me."
"Sounds easy enough," she replies, ignoring his last statement. Even after being bested by Canary, he still hasn't learned a thing.
Her hands lightly wrap around the handle. She turns the throttle. The bike abruptly coughs and jerks forward. Startled, her body vitrifies. Had her feet not been planted to the ground, she might have fallen.
Robin erupts into laughter. Shaking to the extent that he nearly falls off his own bike. Today truly has been an amusement for him. His enjoyment just keeps piling up.
Wally flashes her a hopeless expression, his lips press together to keep himself from laughing. "Might want to take it slower next time," He suggests.
Novia takes in a gulp of air, "Slow. Got it." She loosens her grip on both handles and she feels her body shift back to skin. But her legs tremble, still anticipating another violent jerk from the bike.
Finally, the comms buzz in her ear, and a S.T.A.R Lab operative's voice follows.
"All set. Proceed."
§§§
She can feel her body threaten to vitrify. The thought of falling whilst moving at top speed completely frightens her. And no matter how many times she tells herself that her fear is irrational—that the suit (or her powers) will protect her—she just can't stop trembling. So, she bides her time, recalling calm memories and hoping that in any minute now they'll reach S.T.A.R Labs.
Superboy and Robin ride with ease. Utter confidence. And even though it may be the clone's first time on a bike, he still maneuvers the road like a professional. Then there's Robin who, of course, is a professional when it comes to vehicles like this. She wouldn't be surprised if he has a couple of bikes of his own back in Gotham.
"So… if 'dislike' is the opposite of 'like', is 'disaster' the opposite of 'aster'?" Robin asks out of the blue. Novia feels her bike wobble beneath her, reminding her to keep focused. Robin continues, "See—instead of things going wrong, they go right."
Superboy's eyes seem to reflect something beyond the truck and the road. And from Novia's peripheral, she senses the intent expression on his face. As if the anger he had back at the cave is slowly but surely resurfacing.
"Clearly, you're not feeling the aster," Robin sighs. He too notices the boy's tense expression.
Superboy huffs, "It's Black Canary—I mean—what business does she have teaching combat to a guy with super strength?"
"Uhh, she's teaching all of us. Powers or not," Novia huffs. Her tone revealing offense. Superboy glowers at her but refuses to respond.
"And taking down stronger guys is part of the gig," Robin rationalizes, "Canary learned that the hard way. Same as Batman and—well—me…"
For some reason, the words dig into Superboy the wrong way. He revs his bike and speeds ahead. The vehicle growling as it shoots past them and closer towards the armored truck.
"Good talk," Robin mutters. His words directed to the long gone Superboy. Maybe his superhearing detects it from the distance. Even if it does, their teammate shows no signs of wanting to reconcile. He keeps beside the truck and refuses to even glance back at them.
Why didn't Batman just group me with Kaldur and M'gann? Novia whines mentally. At this point, she'd even take being on Wally's team for the mission.
In the distance, Novia's eyes catch a glimpse of black dots shooting up from the cornfields. At first glance, she denotes them as bugs—likely locusts moving from field to field. But she's forced to reject the assumption, realizing that America doesn't get locust swarms. And when they begin to fly towards them—more importantly, the truck—her mind grows alarmed.
As they latch onto the truck, she sees these "bugs" more clearly. They all possess green eyes, wide smiles, dangling but versatile limbs and what seems to be—jetpacks? They're monkeys. Except, at the same time, they're not just monkeys, but robotic as well.
Their laughter may be the most obnoxious thing she's ever heard. It's mocking, high pitched and continuous as though on loop. Thankfully, her helmet muffles out a good amount of the abhorring sound. But still, it's somehow not enough.
She shouldn't be surprised at how their appearance amuses Robin, "Monkeys! This is totally Ivo's style,"
"Robin, Glass, Superboy, our truck is under attack," she hears Aqualad alert over the comms.
"Yeah, kinda figured," Robin confirms. Superboy glares as more monkeys emerge from the cornfields and hover over the truck. He mutters something under his breath.
Robin presses a button on his bike and immediately the back dislodges and goes airborne, becoming a drone. "You two, put your rides in battle mode." He orders.
Superboy growls, "No point!" Without warning, he leaps off his bike and latches onto the back of the armored truck. And the vehicle, now unmanned, topples over and glides back towards Robin.
"Or not!" Robin exclaims as he extends his arm towards the vehicle. A metal cord shoots out from his sleeve and harpoons the back of the truck. It retracts with a deep whir, yanking him towards the vehicle and allowing him to latch onto the back.
Getting a firm grip on the truck, he kicks down the monkeys hanging onto the overhead door. His drone rises and shoots down the others in his way. Its aid is short-lived as monkeys pile onto it, downing it in minutes.
Novia feels her body relax, slightly relieved that she'd have to ditch her bike as well. She eagerly shatters and allows her shards to fly after the vehicle. As she feels her civilian suit and helmet slip from her body, she praises herself for wearing her real suit underneath. Maybe deep down, she knew she'd need it.
At first contact, the monkeys seem harmless but as they begin to notice her presence, they start retaliating. It's then she realizes how lethal the robots may actually be. And how serious the circumstance is.
A few latches onto her legs and arms, using their jetpacks to propel her towards the edge of the truck. She shatters, and as they fly backward her shards twist, realigning in time for her to kick and tear their mechanics
Their pieces clatter to the asphalt, leaving the truck's tires to crush them further. Novia shatters once more before gravity seizes her body. Her shards realign in time to catch more monkeys rise from the cornfields.
Exactly how many of these did this Ivo-guy make?
"Argh!" She hears Superboy whimper behind her, turning only to find that he's gone. Rather, a dark silhouette hangs over her and the vehicle. And she glances up to find a blinded Superboy being carried off by a group of monkeys.
"Hey!" She calls after them. Her first instinct is to move, shatter, but—
ZZZT
Just as the cracks begin to form, a sharp pang of strikes her back and burns through her glass form—a feeling much akin to the gun Sportmaster used on her. It thrusts her forward and her body forcibly reassembles.
As she feels the truck slip from beneath her feet, her mind isn't able to muster the will quickly enough to transform. All that registers is that she's falling, and the road is closing in on her.
Something hisses from atop the truck. For an instant, it's as if gravity fails to make her body hit the asphalt. But she realizes the sudden tension around her ankle—how it sends the pain to mix with the adrenaline and fear within her. Something is gripping her foot. It fastens and recoils quickly, jerking her in the opposite direction. She yelps as her back slams against the truck.
Novia's ears ring with the roaring of the engine, face burning as blood rushes to her head. Her arms dangle, almost grazing the rushing asphalt beneath her and the rapid speed of the wheels produce a hot artificial wind. Slowly, her mind registers what just occurred. She cranes her neck, realizing that a cord is wrapped around her ankle, preventing her from falling to her death.
"Get your head in the game, Glass!" She hears Robin manage to scold her amidst the truck and constant chuckling of monkeys.
Normally she'd respond—retort—but it's difficult to even hear her own thoughts.
Above her head, she hears the ground shake. At first, she thinks she's imagining it. Then her attention shifts to where the monkeys had taken Superboy. With her vision upside down, she watches as he leaps after the rushing vehicle. His movements shaking the earth.
Her breath hitches, "C'mon…" She pleads despite being sore. She feels her skin crawl, harden. As if cell by cell, it vitrifies. Then, with immense effort, she pushes its surface to crack. Her body splits, reluctantly losing its form. Finally, they become individual shards, but she lacks the energy to drift. Instead, they scatter along the road.
POP
The truck's left wheels rupture and cause the vehicle to swerve viciously. It tilts, showing the desire to flip. Robin moves quickly, latching onto the driver's door and pulling it open.
"Get. Out!" He orders, grabs him, and releases his hold on the truck. The two roll out into the cornfields.
The truck upends multiple times, making violent sounds as the metal grates against the road. Novia finally finishes reassembling. With her skin barely returning, she rushes after the truck. The sight is all too surreal. The sudden attack, nearly falling to her death, a rolling truck—she refuses to believe it all occurred in moments.
The vehicle skids to a halt and the overhead door explodes and a group of monkeys soars out, carrying a large metal container. Their eternal giggles fill the air as they quickly fly off across the cornfields. No doubt bringing their spoils of war to their master.
Robin aids the driver he rescued earlier, helping him settle onto the edge of the highway. A couple of S.T.A.R Labs operatives limp out of the fallen truck. Most seem to escape with no more with a couple of bruises despite the chaos they experienced. They regroup along the side of the road. All except one. A lone operator slowly moves to isolate himself from the rest.
The truck rises with a heavy creak as Superboy effortlessly pushes it off him. He rubs his eyes vigorously. Still furious and clearly unfinished, he scans the skies for the monkeys. Locking onto the black specks in the distance, he leaps after them without uttering a word. Only a growl of rage leaves his lips, pent up anger from the constant humiliation.
"Superboy!" Robin calls at the top of his lungs. But to no avail. The boy doesn't heed his call. Robin turns to Novia as if signaling for her to shatter and pursue, but her focus remains on something else.
Someone else.
The lone operator. He lowers himself to the floor gingerly and pulls off his helmet. His body trembling—still traumatized from the recent incident. His arms remain wrapped around his torso as if he's cold. And when he finally settles on the other side of the road, he closes his eyes and catches his breath.
She draws closer to him, taking in how his chest rises and falls with each breath. His nose wrinkles when he opens his eyes and his jaws never slacken.
Hearing her approach, his actions mollify. He even tries to sit normally without depending on the support of his other arm. But to no avail.
In her right ear, she catches segments of the conversation between Aqualad and Robin over the communication device. They try to contact Superboy, but it sounds like he ditched his own comms in a fit of blind rage.
"Great." Robin releases a sigh of exasperation, "Lost one teammate, and the other one is distracted."
Novia whirls around, "I can still hear, you know!" She cries, flashing her comms device at him from afar.
"Well, I guess the secret is out!" Robin shouts back in a sarcastic manner, making it clear that he intended for her to hear.
The operative gives a breathy chuckle, "Lovely team,"
Novia rolls her eyes, "The best around,"
She stares at the arm wrapped around his torso. Although his uniform is black, there is a darker patch forming around it. And it looks like the patch is slowly rising to his chest.
With the distance closed between them, she is able to better acknowledge his features. Because of his sweat, his dirty blond hair sticks to his forehead and the ends curl slightly. His face is seemingly squared, further defined by his jaw and how it tightens in pain. Then there are his dimples—which she can't decipher if they are natural or not because of how he contorts his expression. But she sees that his eyes are a natural blue. Not deep and oceanic like Superboy's, but rather pale like glaciers.
Initially, he seems young, but as she considers the stubble above his lips and around his cheeks and chin, she decides the man must be in his thirties.
She kneels against the asphalt, "You need treatment," She points to his growingly apparent wound. The bloodstain slowly pervading his clothes.
"Ah, this?" He looks down at his arm and shrugs, "Just needs some pressure." His words are dismissive but the way he looks at her is cautioning.
"Needs more than pressure if you can barely stand," Novia states.
His expression tightens in indignation, "Paramedics are on their way." Another warning.
Novia is already growing to detest the man. But she contains herself, "You may lose a lot of blood before they can get here. At least let us look at it."
His eyes narrow, "Look—"
"Well, as new as she is, she's right." Robin intercedes in a casual tone. He approaches the two with one of the robotic monkeys slung over his shoulder. And despite the slight insult, she accepts his support.
Bitterly, though.
With two against one, the operative falls silent. His face still reflecting his irritation. Robin looks down at his wristwatch and dials something on it. The headlights on his motorbike blink in the distance. It writhes against the asphalt until it is propped up on its wheels. Then, autonomously, it drives down the road and parks itself between Novia and Robin.
The seat of the bike pops open and Robin rummages through it before pulling out his mask and cape. He reaches in with his other hand for something else, "Glass, did you catch the plan?"
Novia's eyes fall to her comms device resting on the floor beside her. She brushes it underneath her leg, "No…"
Robin pulls out a first aid kit from the compartment and tosses it to her. She catches it with a huff. "You really put the 'dis-' in 'distracted'," He remarks with his signature grin.
"And you put the 'annoy-' in 'annoying'" Novia mutters as she opens the kit.
"Not how it works," Robin shrugs, tearing off his civilian bodysuit to reveal his costume underneath. He clips on his cape, "Kid is gonna be here soon. The three of us were supposed to go after Superboy. But looks like there's gonna be a change of plans," He looks over at the injured operative as he says this.
Novia pulls out a roll of gauze and a pack of large pads, "Wait, you're not staying for this?" Her words express more worry than she intends. And she refuses to directly tell the boy that she has never treated a serious wound before.
Robin sits on his bike. Amusement shielded behind his dark shades, "Nah. There should be directions inside. Besides—" He revs the engine, "You can tell your mom you earned your First Aid badge at summer camp!" He snickers before pulling off.
Baffled she stands there watching him speed down the road. And upon finally realizing—
"Summer camp doesn't even give badges!" Novia cries at Robin's distant figure. As the sound of his bike fades away, a new sound surfaces. An eruption of laughter came from the operator.
"Yeah, ha-ha," she mutters, face burning with embarrassment. She'd typically scold someone for laughing at her plight, but she finds this moment to be different. After experiencing an event so daunting, the man deserves some sort of release.
Her body shudders at the rush of an on-coming breeze, braids floating in the direction of something as it zips past her. Then within milliseconds, before she can even glimpse in the direction of the object, a fully suited Kid Flash runs back to her side. Slight confusion as he questions her presence.
"Glass, what're you doing? You're supposed to be with Rob." He says with concern.
"Well, he went after Superboy," She responds glumly. She reaches into the first aid kit to pull out a bottle of isopropyl alcohol. "Plus, I'm kinda busy," She points back to the wounded operative who is still recovering from laughter.
"Oh..." Kid's eyes widen as he peers over her shoulders to get a better look at the man. He looks back at Novia, expressing worry, "Ok… I'll let Aqualad and Miss M know to meet you here. In the meantime, we'll find Supey,"
He watches her, brow raised as she tries to dab some alcohol onto the large pad. "Nobody ever taught you not to use alcohol on a deep wound?" He asks, quickly surveying the man before her.
Novia abruptly stops, "Then what should I use?"
Kid disappears and reappears by the operative, already peeking under the man's shirt. He disappears again, the first aid kit trembles, and in Novia's hands are a curved needle and tweezers.
Stitches. He expects her to give him stitches.
She herself never had them and she's certain she doesn't know where to begin. She whirls to Kid, "How—"
He's already gone. Long gone by the looks of it. She doesn't even see his figure rushing in the distance. Only the empty expanse of the road lies ahead.
There's a biting silence as she stands there with a needle in hand.
"You're not coming near me with that needle," the operative tells her.
Novia ignores him because the fact of the matter is he can't outrun her— much less out-crawl her—in his current state. And she's already tired, queasy even though it won't be her having to get stitches from an (extremely) inexperienced stranger. And the longer she stands here not doing what needs to be done, the more nerve-racking the thought of doing it gets.
She needs to get this over with.
"Lay down," she orders.
He takes a step back, eyes darting like a cornered animal. There aren't many options left to consider and Novia can see the resignation in his eyes. He finally concedes, cursing under his breath as he pulls off his shirt, some resistance offered by the congealing blood.
His wound is still deep red, bloody but not too large either. It's more of a puncture in his stomach, as though a piece of metal from the truck was lodged into it and tore the tissue. The pink of his flesh still protrudes from it but no bone, so that's a plus.
He lays down against the road as she goes through the kit for any sort of instructions that can help. She finds something—a diagram taped to the inner cover of the kit. It was clearly drawn by Robin. The injured dummy is just a caricature of Batman. Of course, under normal circumstances, she'd laugh at it and question just how often Robin has to tend to Batman's wounds. But instead, she focuses on the instructions.
She has to start with antiseptic. Well, that's what she thinks the poorly drawn spray bottle is supposed to represent. She picks up the antiseptic and aims it at the wound. Just before she can spray it, the man seizes her wrist.
"And just where are your gloves?"
She glowers—about to accuse him of stalling but it's a fair point. Biohazard and all.
She pulls on the latex gloves and starts again. The man winces when she applies the antiseptic, stomach tightens when she dabs at the blood. Novia bites her lip upon realizing that dabbing won't remove all of it. It's not just congealing but it's also dried. She has to wipe it clean—peel some of the loose flesh as well.
Breathe. It could be worse.
Ah, but it doesn't help, does it?
Abruptly she turns her head, feeling something rush to her throat. Yet nothing comes but a sharp inhale. One which makes her take in the copper smell of blood.
Just push through.
Novia wipes off the blood and flesh gingerly and the wound is left more visible. She picks up the needle and places it at the edge, underhand as the diagram portrays. It's far more difficult than the picture makes it out to be. His skin offers a lot more resistance to the needle than she had expected. And when it finally pushes through, he grunts.
She ignores this and continues, keeping in mind that she has to tighten the sutures lest she wants her work to be in vain. Soon she finds momentum—underhand, connect, tighten, return—and she realizes that this man is more of a child than he lets on. Or perhaps it truly hurts. There is likely a step she missed—a sedative she forgot to apply.
Novia stops at four stitches because she can no longer see the red of his tissue. They're crooked, of course, but they hold. It's all that matters in the end.
The operative exhales as he shifts, trailing his fingers along the stitches before securing it with a gauze wrap. His eyes rise to meet Novia, offering the girl a small smile, "You did pretty good,"
"Thanks," she says, although still shocked she gave a man stitches. Just another addition to her surreal day.
She sits beside him on the edge of the road, taking in how the sky now grows dark. Streaks of orange and red blot out what was one blue. The sun was barely setting when the mission began and now a full moon looks down from above with a translucent glow. She ponders over the whereabouts of M'gann and Kaldur.
"Jared, by the way," he extends his hand to her.
Novia raises a brow, belatedly realizing that he was introducing himself. And she was about to give him her name—her real name—but she thinks twice before shaking his hand. "Glass," she says.
Within seconds, she retracts. She'd felt enough. He had rough palms. Calloused hands. In the moment, she felt herself relapse, growing ever conscious of the truck's shattered windows that littered the road.
Jared ignores the rude gesture, glimpsing down at his hands and feeling his palms for sweat before moving on, "You're not from here, are you? British, right?"
She doesn't respond. In fact, she doesn't think she should because, how much information is too much? She can never be too careful. So, she settles for the sky above, taking her mind off Jared and the glass around them.
She's grateful he doesn't pry any further.
There's a long moment of silence as Jared looks down at his bandaged abdomen. He touches it again, wincing. He mumbles, "My wife isn't gonna take this well."
Novia looks back at him—not surprised by the fact that he's married. Admittedly, he has the physical features. The decent personality—though she can't be certain—is likely there as well. It's not hard to see this man with a partner. But rather, it's the implication of his words that catches her off guard. What he's saying is:
"Your wife knows? About your occupation, I mean,"
Jared raises a brow, "About me working for S.T.A.R Labs? Or about this gig with the League?"
She falls silent. Unsure herself. They both seem to overlap.
Jared smiles, "Both. It's hard to keep something like this a secret,"
"Have you ever tried to?" Novia presses.
Jared looks up, finding interest in the moon as its glow grows opaque, solid, "Well at first, yes. But I figured I either let her know the easy way or she finds out the hard way,"
"'Hard way' being...?" Novia has her guess—only hoping that it's wrong.
He shrugs, "When I'm dead, or in this case, injured." He retains a faint smirk despite the distressing words. Then it fades, jaw tightening once more—this time not of pain but something else.
"Besides," he says, words now terse, "It's not just the two of us I need to think about but our son as well,"
Novia blinks. Husband, she can see but—father? But the latter is far easier to become, isn't it? Sex is always readily available. But being a good father far different than just siring a child. Her own father had to learn that the hard way. And maybe Jared is as good a father as he is a spouse. She'll never know.
She rests her cheek on her knee, "How old is your son?"
"Eight," he says. Three years younger than Ishaan. They could be friends, she thinks, had they been born in America—likely even attend the same school.
"If I had my phone, I'd show you some pictures," Jared continues. She can see how the mention of his son affects him. It's as though he is not injured, sitting on the side of the road awaiting paramedics. Instead, he's having a discussion one would have in a café with a family friend.
"Kids are adventurous at that age, y'know. Imaginary friends, weird takes on life—" he goes on in on and she very badly wants to concur—add that her brother is an odd one as well.
She'd tell him about how he talks to his goldfish bowl before leaving for school. She'd tell him that he still does this even though his fish died a year ago and there is nothing left but saltwater and sand. But she cannot tell him any of this. And it makes her face grow warm from frustration.
Must all League members be emotionally withdrawn during missions? Safer outcomes, she supposes (still bitter).
Flashing blue lights cuts their conversation short. An ambulance pulls to the side of the road, sirens blaring as a crew of paramedics emerge from the back of the vehicle with a stretcher in tow.
Novia rises, vitrifying before she turns to offer Jared her hand. Whether he can see it or not, there's a hesitation before he accepts it. "Think what you want, you won't get me on that stretcher," he says.
She glances back at the approaching paramedics, "I won't force you,"
The pair of paramedics shine their flashlights at the two. Novia and Jared squint back at them, momentarily disoriented by the light. Then they focus their light on Jared.
"We have a wounded one over here," One of them, a woman, reports to her walkie-talkie. Her eyes examine the wrapped wound. At the sound of a staticky confirmation, her partner quickly brings over the stretcher.
"I'm fine," Jared protests as they direct him onto the stretcher. Another paramedic comes to secure him. Amidst the commotion, Jared is only able to crane his head up at Novia and slightly raise his fingers, issuing his farewell.
She returns the gesture. A bit amused by his current state, but also relieved he's safe—because who knows? His wife and son must be home anxiously awaiting his arrival. They'll distress when they hear about his condition. But be equally relieved that he's very much alive.
Together, the group of paramedics hoists him into the back of the ambulance. One hops in after him and shuts the door. The female paramedic rushes to the passenger seat, stating Jared's conditions aloud whilst her colleague writes down the information, "Blood is clotting well. Sutures are amateur and won't hold well for long—" ouch, "—but he should be stable enough to make it to Gotham ER. Have them check BP on the way."
Behind her, she hears the purr of a motorbike and finds Kaldur arriving with M'gann flying not too far behind. The Martian lands beside her, "Is everything alright?"
Novia nods, explaining the situation with the injured operative. She excludes the part when Kid and Robin ditched her mostly because she didn't remember until the end and by then she decided it wasn't important considering Superboy was on the loose somewhere battling a crazed android.
Kaldur pulls off his helmet, "I commend you for handling the situation professionally."
She wonders if Kaldur understands the weight of his words. Novia feels they're especially meaningful now that he dons the title of leader. She smiles to herself, pleased.
"We should hurry," M'gann reminds them, "I still can't sense Superboy."
"I'm not riding that machine," Novia states mid-shatter. They look to Aqualad. The only one who can't fly.
"Guess it's two against one," M'gann's eyes glow green as she seizes Kaldur in a telekinetic hold. It catches the Atlantean off guard and they both giggle.
Novia bursts into dozens of shards, "Guess we're flying, then,"
23:36 EDT
Gotham Academy
Something's off.
"Help me disassemble him! Now!" She hears Robin's voice echo through the halls of the vacant Gotham Academy. It's his cry that helps the three find which room the others are in.
Well, that and the path of destruction that leads towards the gymnasium.
The once prestigious school had become a battle zone within the span of a few hours. Lockers were torn from their hinges, walls leading to classrooms were missing, something smashed a trophy case. All that is left of the scuffle, is debris.
Debris and something else.
It's apparent that the battle against the android caused all of this. But none of it explains the unnatural stillness in the air. Everything around her is quiet, almost suffocating.
It's felt, but also unfelt. Heard, but also silent.
"Dude… he has no head," she hears Wally breathlessly point out. His voice prompts her to focus—to continue down the path after Aqualad and M'gann.
"Do not take any chances!" Aqualad orders as he and the others rush into the gym. M'gann quickly flies to Superboy's aid, flooding him with questions about his condition. His face no longer reflects the rage and anger he had before. Rather, he seems content—bruised but quite content
"I'm alright," He assures her, glancing back at Robin, "Actually feeling the aster,"
Novia's eyes briefly examine the decapitated Amazo. A steam of defeat rises from the area its head used to be. It's done for. Everything seems to be resolved. But at the same time, it doesn't.
She still feels what can be best described as static. A very apparent nothingness fills the air.
It feels denser here…
At the thought, her eyes shift, moving across the gymnasium—searching. Around her, there are signs of struggle. Parts of the planked flooring are chipped and sunken in. Some of the bleacher seats are crushed due to a large impact from the scuffle.
If it had taken eight League members to dismember the android, she can only imagine the adversity with three sidekicks.
But exactly what happened? What did they do to make this place so deafeningly quiet? The atmosphere so unyieldingly stiff?
Something gives—an answer, perhaps. Her eyes catch a substance in their peripheral. Glittering pieces beneath and among the bleachers reflect the moonlight pouring in from the windows. Some are fine like dust, whilst others are not.
Perplexed, she nears the pieces.
She kneels down, taking one into her hand with care. Her thumb trails along its smooth side and up towards the pointed tip. Transparent, sharp, and cool to the touch. It has all the properties of glass.
Because it is glass. Well, that's what it should be. But where is the other feeling? The hums. The itching. The pulls from the other "world". All of it should be there, felt beneath her skin.
But they're not.
Rather, there is afflicting nonexistence—an emptiness of some sort. She can't fully perceive the shard and despite attempting to connect with it, she receives no response.
Quickly, she unclips her cape and uses it to wrap and secure the shard. She prays it's some kind of strange coincidence. However, the atmosphere around her says otherwise.
If somehow her connection is being hindered—or even severed—she needs to know why.
August 4th, 2010
01:06 EDT
Mount Justice
"Please, if we needed help, we'd never get the chance to ask!" Robin immediately reprimands Batman following his mentor's initial appraisal. He presents an arrow before the small group of League members. Batman and Green Arrow examine it silently. Their expressions unreadable as the team awaits their apology or—at the least—an explanation.
"You guys were following us—babysitting! You still don't trust us!" Robin cries. His team members watch on in silence. As if spectating a friend arguing with their parent.
Awkward.
Batman waits for the boy to finish, "We didn't follow you,"
Green Arrow takes the bow from Robin and pulls out his own from his quiver. He holds the two arrowheads parallel to each other to contrast them. His is barbed whilst the other is stemmed.
Robin looks between the two, dumbfounded, "And that's… not your arrow," his puzzlement is quickly replaced with triumph at the sudden realization, "Then that means—"
"Speedy has our backs!" Wally snatches the arrow from Green Arrow. "Souvenir!" He exclaims. Green Arrow and Batman exchange a look of uncertainty but say nothing to deter the mood.
Amidst the pleasantries, Novia silently excuses herself and retreats to her room; the glass shard secured and held close to her chest. She can still feel the staticky silence emitting from it. It makes her body feel strange. Her head is beginning to throb from its presence.
She places the shard on her bed and unwraps it. Nothing about its physical features is unordinary. Just a clear shard as far as the eye can see. But beyond the eyes…
"You're not glass. You just… can't be," She tells it as if expecting the shard to respond—confirm her accusation. Rather it sits there quietly. Almost mocking in a way.
Frustrated by the silence and the aura it's emitting, she scoffs and grabs her phone. She opens the text messages between her and her aunt then begins to type hastily.
We need to talk. Something's wrong.
A/N: OK next chapter, we're rated M