Limitations
August 8th, 2010
10:00 EDT
Washington DC
"It's glass," Her aunt determines after a brief inspection of the piece Novia brought. She sets the shard on the counter. Her interest is more set on the coffee brewing before her. And when the final drop of the black liquid falls into her cup, she retrieves it and brings it to her lips without hesitation.
Novia watches her aunt, concealing her disgust as the woman downs the stuff. Not a single effort to put in cream or sugar. She can only imagine how bitter the drink is. But another part of her understands; Cadmus has definitely been a job and a half. She's grateful Amanda had at least responded to her text.
"I've suspected that much already," Novia says, leaning against the counter. "I need to know why I can't sense it."
Her aunt shrugs, "Maybe there's just some glass that you can't sense,"
Novia frowns, "I am glass. There isn't any glass that I can't sense."
She retracts upon hearing her own arrogance. But it's true. She felt glass all her life. From soda-lime bottles all the way to the glass-metal composition of mirrors—none of it has escaped her perception. And yet, this small shard challenges her very being. It freaks her out.
"Sounds like a paradox," Her aunt concludes as she rolls her cup in her hand. "You claim to sense all glass, but this shard eludes you,"
Novia doesn't want to confirm it out loud. But yes, it contradicts her own abilities. And she cannot completely write it off as an anomaly either. It just seems too easy and doesn't fully explain the disconnect—the disjointed buzzing—emitting from the shard because she's certain that it wasn't just a shard before the boys' fight with Amazo. It was definitely part of a window. So maybe…
"Is it too difficult to admit that there are limitations to everything?" Her aunt speaks on behalf of the growing silence between them.
"My own kryptonite then?" Novia says this almost jokingly, but her chest tightens at the thought. "I need to find out what broke the glass."
Amanda sighs, dejected, "You're telling me to perform an autopsy on a piece of glass." She says this not as a question, but as if she's trying to digest the notion herself. "Mind you, I'm a geneticist,"
Now hearing it out loud, Novia will agree that it does sound a tad bit ridiculous. But if it's actually possible—and if they can actually get answers—why not? There's nothing to lose. So Novia nods.
Her aunt secures the shard in a paper bag, staring at it with fleeting concern. Her ignorance of how the shard alludes her niece is apparent. Even though she had agreed to help, there's still a sense of doubt.
And it's fine, really. People doubt what they can't see. Novia hopes the autopsy will kindle some sort of understanding in her aunt. Hopefully, it brings Novia answers.
Amanda signals for her niece to follow her to the salon, "How are your friends?"
"They're at the beach," Novia says, unconcerned.
A smile forms on her aunt's face as she sits on the couch, "And you chose to come here instead of the beach? You're fun."
Novia sits beside her, "Trust me, if I wanted to spend my summers at the beach, I would've stayed in Bermuda. Besides, I hate the sand. It just ends up everywhere,"
"How you survived fifteen years on that island astounds me,"
"Beats crime-ridden America for sure," Novia murmurs. Her aunt shifts. No longer lax, she frowns as she places a hand gently over the girl's knuckles.
"Is something wrong? You realize you can tell me anything right?"
Novia doesn't reply immediately—her eyes were delving into the distance, the floor, then back to her aunt. And only now she seems to have registered Amanda's hand over hers. She pulls away, "Why? So you can tell my parents?"
Amanda stares at her, visibly shocked. Novia had said those words before—not in the same fashion but with the same fear. Still accusatory, which stings. And worse—it makes her feel unreliable.
At first, Amanda suspected it had to do with the League—something about crime. Likely an assignment gone wrong that brought about her dismal (now irritated) state. But she begins to doubt that at the mention of her parents.
"It's nothing. Don't worry about it," Novia settles. Her words are dry, nearly a whisper but still audible. She keeps her head lowered and offers no indication of wanting to look her aunt in the eye as she speaks.
Amanda doesn't push for more even though she's still unable to grasp the context. She's been like this before—a year ago, precisely. Amanda had since then adopted a certain passiveness when speaking to Novia because how exactly does one confront a teen who can topple a house with a mere thought?
The simple answer is you don't. Not if you value your life.
In the silence, she does consider calling Novia's father—only rejects the notion because it would ultimately cost the girl her freedom. She'd lose her parent's trust, once again be regarded as unstable, and—in the end—she wouldn't be able to return to America, much less venture Bermuda without supervision.
Novia groans, finding her usual composure in the silence they shared. Her comms had just gone off. Batman had ordered her to return to the cave. She rises, smiling faintly at her aunt as though she just didn't have a ruminative episode, "I gotta go. But you'll text me if something comes up, right?"
Amanda stares at her before nodding, "Right,"
Novia has no idea what she's walking in on. Her body barely materializes through the zeta-tube before she hears a quarrel—or the ending of one. Her vision finally adjusts to see her team, Batman, Red Tornado, and Green Arrow accompanied by a younger archer in green. They're gathered around a hologram of a woman and some… bugs?
Novia can only presume that she's a scientist, judging by the white lab coat she sports. Those bugs have some sort of correlation, but she can't be too sure. And, needless to say, the group's attention isn't even focused on the hologram. They're more focused on the matter between them.
The girl next to Green Arrow is has to be his apprentice. She has remarkably long hair—blond which reaches far below her back, and is likely even longer if taken out of the ponytail. She has a certain aura about her too. A confidence gleaming in her eyes and that comes through her smirk. But it's the hair, that keeps Novia entranced.
She would admire it.
Would.
It's beautiful; it suits her physique. Yet despite its beauty, Novia finds herself inverting at a memory. Not truly a memory, in her opinion, but a past occurrence. And it's the soreness in her jaw that begs her to come off the thought. So, she does, but not without great effort.
It's all still there though somewhere in her mind. It only becomes vivid if entertained—coaxed out somehow.
That aside, she can't fathom having to fight with hair that long. What if it gets caught in something? What if it gets entangled?
What if someone grabs it?
But, enough of that. Something else catches her attention.
There's another archer. She feels stupid for not noticing him until now. His red, after all, stands out from the green of the other two. He's a young man, though not as young as Robin. He seems a year or two older than Aqualad as well.
His hair is reddish-brown, and he sports some sort of crew cut. He's fairly toned for an archer; she'll give him that. Handsome as well, if she disregards the mask. Whatever training he goes through, it's clearly working. And for some reason, he's walking towards her.
"Roy!" Green Arrow calls out to the red archer.
"Don't bother. My work here is done," He barks.
Roy. Has she heard that name before? She can't recall, but the archer get-up is a big enough hint. And if Novia can recall Robin, Aqualad, and Wally's words correctly—
"You must be Speedy," Novia extends her hand. She doesn't know why she's being formal. It just comes on a whim. She instantly regrets it though upon seeing his visibly pissed expression. He looks even more pissed when she says the word "Speedy".
He pushes past her without a word, shouldering her in the process. Her only reaction is to lower her hand accepting the rejection. Another part of her says to vitrify and put him on his ass as Canary taught her. But this part of her lacks any influence whatsoever. She ends up just standing there.
The computer awakens at Speedy's—Roy's—presence,
Recognized:
Speedy B-06
"It's Red Arrow B-06. Update." He demands, utterly disgruntled by the recent events. Everyone just watches him in silence with a mixture of perplexity and concern. The silence drones on even after he fades away through the zeta-tube.
Alright… Let's try this again. Novia inhales, channels in her confidence, and approaches the rest of the group. "I hope the lack of manners isn't an archer thing,"
"Trust me, it's not. Roy is just… Roy," Green Arrow sighs, visibly embarrassed on behalf of his protégé. Although, Novia gets a slight impression that Roy isn't his protégé anymore. Whether the boy dropped the title by choice or was ousted by the archer standing before her, she isn't too certain.
The younger archer steps forward and offers her hand, "I'm Artemis, by the way. It's good to see that there's more than two girls on this team,"
"Novia. Glass. Either one works. Just don't call me Crystal Girl," she says, side-eyeing an oblivious Wally. He doesn't catch the jab because his attention is more focused on Artemis—indignantly focused on Artemis. Which is odd for Novia because he's the last person she expects to be crossed. Especially when it comes to girls.
Angry or not. He still looks ridiculous. For whatever reason, he's the only one in the room wearing nothing but swim wear. She can see why Artemis is barely paying him any mind.
But something else takes precedence. Something that Artemis uttered earlier. "More than two girls?" Novia repeats, "That means you're—?"
"Joining the team? That's right," Artemis grins. Her pride visibly swelling as she says, "You guys got yourselves an archer."
"We would've had Speedy," Wally's retort strikes Novia, and the pieces suddenly align. Wally—and maybe the others as well—prefer Roy over Artemis.
Artemis grips her bow with two hands as if she's about to hit Wally with it at a moment's notice. "He made the choice to leave. He could've stayed. Green Arrow even insisted he stayed. He's just being a melodramatic–"
"That's enough," Batman silences the group and all eyes fall on him. "You seven have an assignment. Kid, Glass, get ready."
Wally grumbles something and heads to the showers. What concerns Novia is the fact that he doesn't even bother to use his speed to quicken his pace. She briefly looks over to the team and Artemis only to find them being despondent as well.
She sighs as she heads to her room. Oh, this will definitely go well.
21:59 EDT
Happy Harbor
She finds this night, in particular, to make her uneasy. It's silent, but that's how all nights begin and that fact makes her expectant and alerted throughout her watch. She stands on the south end of the roof of Happy Harbor High, looking down at the empty town that extends along the harbor.
The scientist that she saw on the hologram is Serling Roquette. Red Arrow apparently did the Justice League a courtesy by rescuing her from The Shadows. He's certain that The Shadows are still after her. But rather than guarding the scientist himself, he dumps the job on them.
Personally, she's not against the task. It's definitely nothing exciting on its own but adding The Shadows to the equation is the reason why she is wrought with anticipation.
And as for the strange bugs she saw on the hologram. Apparently, they're not actually bugs—well, not biologically. They're hundreds of little infiltrators—The Fog—composed of nanotechnology and have the chilling capability to tear through anything and everything in order to extract data.
Roquette is, for some perverse reason, proud of her creation.
Everyone online? M'gann's voice slips into her thoughts
Whoa… this is weird… Artemis muses with wonder.
Novia can hear the tapping of a keyboard coming from Roquette's thoughts. She even feels the flow of algorithms and numbers rushing through her mind. Then catches the scientist's focus waver upon realizing that she's part of the mind-link as well.
Oh great. Programming is hard enough. Now I have to have teen-think in my skull?
Lady, do you usually complain when people try to help you? Kid responds, half of his thoughts focused on the energy bar in his hand.
Artemis scoffs, Very ironic coming from you.
I really don't need to hear that from the chick who forced Red Arrow off the team, Kid retorts.
Like I said, he made the choice to leave.
Novia is forced to listen, a bit perplexed by the whole ordeal. She gets that Speedy is a close friend of theirs. But even she can see that he's not the "teamwork" type. And as far as she's concerned, the guy's an ass.
Glass, Aqualad warns, sensing her emotions. His voice makes her jump.
I promise she isn't the only one thinking it, Artemis snidely adds.
Artemis, Aqualad's final warning.
Just stating the obvious. The archer relents, But, whatever. I'll go help patrol the perimeter with the others.
Aqualad, with irritation, Good idea.
KF, you might wanna cut her some slack seeing as her arrow saved you from Amazo. It's strange for Robin to be the voice of reason. So strange that Novia can only assume such a characteristic is reserved for his dearest Wally.
And the arrow? She remembers how Batman and Green Arrow were looking at the item with mild confusion. If they immediately knew it wasn't Green Arrow's, they probably knew it wasn't Speedy's either.
No way! It was Speedy's—I mean—Red Arrow's arrow, Kid justifies.
She can feel Robin's grin. Keep telling yourself that.
It's unsurprising that Wally remains in denial over the issue, settling to not give his new teammate the satisfaction. It's becoming juvenile. And like the doctor, Novia wishes she had no part of the mind-link.
I'm able to track the Utility Fog. But it requires me to go online. Roquette's anxiety can be felt as she thinks, might as well get a billboard with 'assassinate me' written in neon.
Novia dares not think about their track record with missions. It'll only give the woman more reason to doubt. But as a whole, the team knows it's not the shiniest.
We will protect you, Aqualad assures.
It's almost effortless how he does it. The consolation thing. It's enviable at this point. But there's still a sliver of doubt in Roquette's mind, however. She makes no effort to suppress it. She activates the tracker anyways and the mind-link falls silent as they wait.
Novia takes the time to join M'gann and Artemis near the gate entrance. Her skin shifts to glass and she shatters, shards scattering against the night. They drift down from the roof of the school and realign behind the two girls.
Artemis, catching the glint in her peripheral, turns to her, arrow drawn and aimed for her head.
It's just me! Novia steps back with raised arms. She allows her to skin return, giving Artemis further reason to lower her bow.
She chuckles nervously, Okay. So that's why they call you Glass.
Novia furrows her brow. Why else would they call me that?
Before Artemis could reply, Superboy lands beside them, this time startling Novia and almost making her fall. He's actually improving on his landings. For once, he doesn't create a crater in the ground. But it still makes the earth twitch when he does it.
He ignores the three girls, giving them a quick glance before walking away, clearly more focused on patrolling than the idle chatter. And it reminds Novia to do the same. So, she decides to go in the opposite direction. Her body begins to transform, ready to shatter, but—
She freezes.
Just then, a thought of Superboy had come to mind. An image of him without his shirt—or even his cargos for that matter—sends her to recoil, discomforted because she's certain Superboy saw this image too. The way he stopped walking the moment the image came to mind tells her that much. And she'd question the origin if not for Artemis' satisfied groan that followed after.
What is wrong with you?! M'gann—who has been level-headed throughout the entire mission—finally draws the line.
I'm sorry. Is he your boyfriend? Artemis responds. It's a sarcastic question, but it would be nice for M'gann to answer. The Martian has been ogling Superboy since their mission at Santa Prisca. Yet the Kryptonian seems completely oblivious to it.
Even now, after being the center of attention between the two girls, he doesn't say anything. He just looks on, confused.
Novia can hear Robin chuckling from the distance. The doctor too curses because, of course, she saw the image as well. And before Wally could put his two cents in—
That's enough. Aqualad interrupts. Miss Martian, Dr. Roquette has located the fog. Reconfigure the Bioship so that Robin and Superboy can pursue.
This is the only time Novia wishes that she's on the team with Robin and Superboy. With Artemis in the mix, she can expect more bickering on this end. But of course, she has the worse of luck when it comes to team assignments. She has gathered that much from the Amazo mission.
M'gann glowers at Artemis before signaling for the Bioship. It responds, arriving at the front gates in camouflage mode. Robin, and Superboy board the ship. Within moments, they're off pursuing the Fog.
Glass, relocate to the halls, and patrol with Kid. Aqualad orders.
Novia looks between M'gann and Artemis. She takes it that she's the best option since Artemis and Kid abhor each other, and M'gann will allow Kid to get distracted by her presence. But now she wonders if the two girls can patrol without killing each other over Superboy.
Alright...
She's unconvinced—still a bit distraught from seeing Artemis' rendition of a naked Superboy. But she heads inside the building, leaving the two to patrol the perimeter.
The upper main halls are eerily quiet, even creepier with the lights out. It reminds Novia of Gotham Academy, moments before she found the weird shard. The difference is that this school isn't completely decimated and they're not after some hostile android.
Not even a minute into patrolling, she feels something rush past the adjacent classroom. The figure grazed the window. An oversight on their part, likely never considering that she can feel the tremor against the glass, quickly deducing that—
They're going the other way. Towards the staircase.
Novia vitrifies in pursuit. Whoever it is, they're not Kid Flash. Their movements are nowhere near as fast. Yet how could they have snuck past her and Kid without immediate detection? And now another thought comes to mind. It brings her to a standstill, glass heels producing a small squeal against the vinyl tiles.
Kid has been quiet. Far too quiet.
She moves again, rounding the corner.
Not good.
Guys—?! Her thoughts spike as smoke clouds burst and obstruct her vision. Noxious gas, probably. No doubt left by whoever she sensed earlier. It doesn't affect her as intended. Glass lungs, after all. But her vision remains completely useless, obscured by the thickness of the gas.
We're under attack in the computer lab! Aqualad's urgency confirms it.
There's an intruder.
On our way, Artemis immediately responds. In seconds, Novia can hear the archer's footsteps rush around the staircase.
Novia feels her way out of the gas with the help of the lockers against the wall.
I-I think Kid's down. She's torn between searching for the speedster or rushing to Aqualad's aid. She isn't even sure where to look.
M'gann strains, Don't worry, I'm on it.
Novia runs up the staircase towards the computer lab. At first glance, nothing seems out of the ordinary. Artemis is there blocking one of the entrances, but there isn't a fight going on. Everything is at a standstill.
"Don't. Move." Artemis warns whoever's inside the room. Her bow is drawn, and her smug expression wiped with sharp sobriety. She keeps her arrow pointed at the center, homing in on the intruder.
Novia covers the last entrance near Aqualad, positioning herself for any attacks. She's as prepared as she can be for whoever The Shadows sent. And she freezes, though not from fear as she had anticipated.
At the center of the room stands a slender woman dressed in a short, green kimono. Her black hair is wild—mane-like. Her face is covered by an odd mask. White with stripes and maybe horns? More like ears. The strangest part about the mask is its smile. It would be creepy if the woman was more intimidating.
But she just stands there casually.
"Oh… this gig's getting interesting," The assassin says in a sultry voice upon taking notice of Novia and Artemis. She seems to take being surrounded lightly.
That's it? Novia's still perplexed. All this big talk about The Shadows and they only send one assassin?
Do not underestimate her. Aqualad cautions. He's on edge, ready for a strike, and adamant about protecting the doctor behind him. But at the same time, he seems slightly enervated. His water-bearers are drawn, yet his hands shake.
Suddenly, something flies towards her face. She catches it out of reflex but not before it digs into her palm and leaves a small crack in her glass form.
A shuriken.
The attack prompts Artemis to fire, sending multiple arrows toward the assassin in little time. The woman spins as she slices through them with grace and a single sword. Split bows lay at her feet as she focuses on Artemis.
Then she lowers her sword and turns back to the doorway Novia blocks. Maybe she's contemplating rushing her? She doubts the nimble assassin can tackle her with brute force. But with the sword however—
"A bit too interesting…" The assassin sighs with agitation, attention still focused on Novia—or rather the second figure next to her. Novia never heard Kid Flash dash to her side. He's wet for some reason. And he carries the faint scent of chlorine. But she's relieved to see him, nevertheless. M'gann flies in after him and lands beside Aqualad.
The assassin doesn't take another minute to weigh her odds. Three against one is a party, but she draws the line at five. With a quick gesture, she throws a smoke bomb on the floor, and dark clouds billow around her.
Abruptly, Kid lunges into the smoke only to stumble out on the other side. When the smoke clears, the assassin is nowhere in sight.
"She's getting away! Why are you letting her get away?!" Dr. Roquette yells at Aqualad in a mixture of fear and anger. She's been meek throughout the whole standoff, but suddenly finds the time to scold him.
"Blame Artemis, she was on the perimeter!" Wally reproves, after recovering himself. "No way that Shadow should've got inside in the first place!"
Artemis sheathes her bow and approaches the speedster indignantly. She opens her mouth to say something—
"That's not really fair. I was guarding the perimeter too." M'gann says despite her earlier disagreement with Artemis.
"A-and you were probably busy getting distracted by her!" Wally stammers a remark. Then he turns to M'gann with a provocative grin. Besides, I can't be mad at you. You gave me mouth-to-mouth. He reminds her through the telepathic link.
The same telepathic link that they all share.
We heard that. The team and Roquette chastise.
"Dammit!" He groans off.
"Glass, are you alright?" Aqualad's voice removes her attention from Artemis and M'gann. Only now she realizes the small smile forming on her face.
She turns her head away from him. Of course, he's perceptive. But shouldn't she be asking him that question? She saw how shaken he was earlier even when he tried his best to cover it up. The assassin caught him off guard—caught them all off guard.
"I'm fine," she tells him, "And you?"
"I can manage," he assures, "But..."
The leader wordlessly points to the palm where she caught the shuriken, drawing attention to the black liquid resting in the crack it formed. It's thick in consistency and carries a slight purple hue within it.
Poison.
"Gross," Novia groans, more bothered by the sight of it than the fact that it's toxic. She shakes her hand until the black liquid splatters on the floor before her.
The comms buzz in her ear, "Robin to Aqualad,"
"We were too late. The Fog has already decimated the S.T.A.R Labs facility in Philadelphia. Not good. Now their secrets are at hands of the enemy. What's our next move?"
Aqualad turns to Dr. Roquette, "Re-scan for the Fog."
Artemis crosses her arms. There's skepticism in her voice, "So we're staying here? After The Shadows just breached the place?"
She's right. The assassin could just wait and strike again. And maybe this time, she'll make sure to kill them off one by one—less retaliation that way.
"It's just one assassin. What? You're chicken?" Kid mocks, clucking. Artemis attempts to punch the speedster only for him to zip away before she can make contact. M'gann can't help but giggle as he hides behind her cloak.
But childishness aside. Kid has a point. They can probably manage if they play their cards right. It's only one assassin after all.
"Negative," Aqualad declines, prompting the team to fall silent, "We're moving the doctor,"
The rest is unsaid. But the group gathers enough without the mind-link.
He has a plan.
§ § §
From here, she can hear the buoys ring. Such deep, resonant calls tapping against the glass windows of the ferry station. They're almost calming, but not enough to break the anticipation she has been feeling the entire night.
Before her, Artemis, and Kid Flash, is "Roquette" typing away on a console. And somewhere patrolling the station's perimeter is Aqualad. So far, he hasn't noted any abnormalities through the mind-link. And it gives the pretense that everything is going smoothly.
Yet, she cannot shake a feeling. A certain density in the air. As though a weight slowly accumulates around them. It's enough to give her a slight headache and rubbing her temple only proves to be a vain effort. It just won't go away. No matter how hard she tries to massage it.
She was going to ask the others if they feel it as well. That is, until Aqualad finally snaps, Stop it, both of you.
What? Kid and Artemis return in unison.
I can feel you glaring.
And like that the tension snaps, shriveling into complete obscurity. Kid huffs and sits on the filing cabinet near Roquette. He briefly glimpses at Artemis before turning away. And Artemis glares at him before leaving to pace the aisle.
Under the guise of Roquette, M'gann continues to type at the computer. Her thoughts are silent. Unlike the real doctor, there is no amalgamation of codes rushing through her mind.
Novia refocuses on her patrol along the station walls. She cannot see past the fences and the silhouettes of thrushes that lie beyond the windows. She cannot see Aqualad lurk about the perimeter either. And when she thinks about it, following his outburst, she no longer feels his presence in the mind-link either.
The front doors burst open, giving way to an assassin. He barely gets a look at the teens before Kid Flash attacks. Yet the man is fast—fast enough to dodge Kid's kick and even nimble enough to latch onto the ceiling.
Novia's eyes widen. He's new and definitely not the assassin from before. Agile as well. Very much like the spider symbol on the back of his suit.
Artemis fires an arrow at the man, missing by just a hair, "So just one assassin, huh?"
"Two. Big whoop!" Kid remarks as he dodges a web from the assassin. He grabs a nearby bin and launches it at the spider assassin.
Despite the chaos, Novia finds herself looking up at the glass ceiling. Or rather, she looks into the ceiling because, of course, the Shadows wouldn't send just two assassins. The footfalls she senses above her reveal that much.
And only when the glass shatters—
"Four!" she screams, vitrifying as she faces the two additional assassins that landed behind her. A stocky, white-haired man accompanied by another assassin who sports a snarling, golden tiger mask.
Shards rain around them as the older man flashes the hook that constitutes his right hand. Without warning, it shoots towards Artemis. The archer sidesteps, rolling as the projectile splits the benches in its path, leaving splinters in its wake. She resurfaces and returns fire, sending the man on defense.
With her eyes fixated on him, she barks at Roquette who had been watching on with a look of fear, "Don't. Stop. Working!"
The other assassin rushes towards Novia, leaping into a kick. She pivots away, hearing the half of the bench shatter beside her.
The assassin continues his advances, now striking at her with clawed fists. And there's only so much she can dodge. He's fast—likely as fast as the spider assassin. Some of his hits land, chipping through the glass. She'd mend if not for her focus being fixed on keeping him away from Roquette—from M'gann—as they hold up the diversion.
And through her faltering, her waning attempts at dodging and blocking, his claws pierce her stomach and he slams her against the wall.
Her hands fly to his wrist, more astonished than in pain. He grunts as he attempts to dislodge himself from her. Abruptly, she drives her legs into his chest, sending him to crash into an already fractured bench.
Across the station, Novia hears M'gann's—no, Roquette's—yelp, sees Artemis lying unconscious in the adjacent row whilst Kid Flash is still preoccupied by the spider assassin. And through it all, the cat assassin has managed to sneak in, seize M'gann by the tip of her sai, and was about to drive it into her back.
Novia shatters, shards barely materializing into a kick before something wraps around her leg and slams her onto the concrete. The floor beneath her shudders and her body fastens into a humanoid form.
The attack nearly broke her concentration, and it leaves her left leg marred with multiple teeth-like incisions. She's wearied enough to revert back, but it's the sight of the encroaching tiger assassin that makes her retain her form. In his hand, he whirls a long chain composed of serrated links.
She exhales, bothered by the sensation of the cuts left on her leg. What's even worse is that she sees the cat assassin escape through the front door. No doubt after the real Roquette.
Artemis, realizing this, quickly regains herself, grabbing her bow and darting after the woman, "I'm heading after their leader, keep them busy!"
Her words elicit a retort from Wally and she's quick to shut him up. But her escape also grabs the attention of the tiger assassin. He pauses, offers a quick glance back down at Novia before rushing out the door.
He's going after Artemis, M'gann's thoughts ring through the mind-link. She makes a move to fly after him but suddenly veers away from the hook launched at her.
I'm on it, Novia responds, running after them. Her leg hesitates before mending the marks left by the chain. She suspects running on it will make it more brittle. And she's right, she can hear the crunching upon every step. But it doesn't stop her. The thought of Artemis having to take on two assassins keeps her going.
She doesn't get far along the road before she can make out the figure of the tiger assassin before her. Her not-so-subtle approach sends him to glimpse back mid-sprint. He withdraws a metal canister from his vest and throws it at the ground.
Black smoke hisses out, sending dark clouds to billow across the asphalt and envelope the street around her. The light of the street lamps hardly pierces through, becoming weak specks that cannot be discerned from the stars.
She gasps from pain, shattering as something pierces the clouds. The serrated chain strikes through her, failing to latch on to what would have been her arm. The smoke fades and beneath the lights, there is nothing—no chain nor the tiger assassin.
Novia's shards realign, slowly because the silence keeps her alerted. She doesn't even hear Artemis and she wonders if the archer is out of M'gann's telepathic range.
Artemis? Novia mentally calls as she proceeds with caution. She figures by now her own thoughts are beyond M'gann's perception as well. At this point, she feels neither her or Artemis.
Suddenly, she looks up, eyes racing along the rooftops with the assassin as he runs across it. She shatters after him, pain causes her hesitation as her body forms mid-sprint.
The man glances back. He pivots, disheveling tiles as he skids to a halt, "Really? After I let you off the hook?"
His voice is faucalized, hollowed by the mask. Novia doesn't speak—doesn't want to get distracted because in the moment, she sees him withdraw his chain.
"Look, I can tell you're new at this. Just step aside, let the pros play," He continues, lengthening the chain. Her final warning.
Like hell, Novia mentally responds. Though, she's offended. Is it really that obvious? Maybe for a Shadow, it is. But it doesn't matter. Not anymore.
She rushes him and immediately regrets it. The assassin leaps over her in a fashion all too familiar—dismissive, like Canary when she first tested Superboy. She doesn't hear him land behind her and he doesn't use her as a spring either. Instead, she feels the chain latch around her neck and a sudden pull which throws her back across the rooftops.
The chain tightens, tiles fly from the impact, and before she can recover—much less shatter through—the assassin swoops over and delivers a kick which sends the roof beneath them to collapse.
There's a crash, a sudden boom from the fracturing of wood and metal. They fall through the building. A boutique store. Novia lands on something—something that sends her body to snap. She feels the split in her back mend as the dust clears, debilitated. Her glass form fades.
A sudden pain washes over her, not all from exhaustion. Her landing on the metal frame of a display case had some effect as well. And the glass, of course, reserved itself from adding any extra injury.
But she screams internally because the pain just ebbs and flows with breath. The dust that thickens the air doesn't help one bit. She tries to rise, only finding success with the support of a headless mannequin.
She coughs, wincing with each intake. Then she freezes because the assassin stands before her, unscathed as though nothing has happened. He leans against a dilapidated pillar and when he notices that she is watching him—her shock fully evident now that she's out of her glass state—he approaches her.
A rush of anger sends her fist to vitrify. Ignoring the pain, she drives it into his face, but he catches it with no effort, reveals how brittle she is with only a little pressure.
"Morena, why are you still trying? It's over," He groans, no longer annoyed but unimpressed. Tired, as though he doesn't want to continue this. As though he's picking on a wounded animal. And—who the hell is Morena?
The assassin sighs, "Just know when to give up,"
He pushes her—not even with much force, more of a nudge if anything. But it's enough to make her fall, more embarrassing than painful. An indication of how weak she really is. The fact that this man simply walks away enrages her all the more.
He won't even kill her. He won't even try to because she's not worth it.
Her jaw tightens and she can't help but shake as she rises once more, this time with the help of a clothes rack. Her mind swims, recalling how Batman denoted her as a liability—how strenuous her trainings were with Canary. Not even Robin—small as he is—would take her threats seriously. And even after a month, she's still not worth it.
She screams, throwing the clothes rack at the assassin. But he merely dodges it. Just more salt on the wound. Another reminder that she is not worth his time.
Novia falls to her knees, eyes boring into the back of the assassin. Her head throbs from the thoughts—her demanding him to get back here. Take her seriously. And these thoughts just accumulate with the pain, churning with the sound of the glass around her. And in the mixture—somewhere far among the whispers of glass—is another whisper.
Don't do this.
But she's far gone—all emotion at this point. Embarrassment. Anger. That's all the glass needs. It feeds off of it. A vicious predator. And it will take whatever it can get so long as its conduit unleashes its will full force.
Faintly, in the distance, she can hear the assassin pause, "What the—"
Words cut short as he's thrust into the wall with a sudden force.
"Got him!" Novia hears M'gann's voice over the stirring of glass. Nearly blinded by white, she's suddenly brought back by the Martian's excitement. Just the sight of M'gann is enough to send a shock of realization through her.
M'gann flies over to her, "Glass, are you alright?"
Lost for words, Novia sits there, hands trembling because her emotions had clouded all rationality. She's still angry. But why? It's over. Yet, she looks away, bruised, flustered, and feeling useless.
"I had him," she mutters. The glass—its presence still lapping at the dregs of anger—concurs.
We had him.
Kid appears next to them. Apparently overhearing the whole conversation, he scoffs, "Yeah, sure you did. Nothing wrong with asking for help, y'know?"
"There's a difference between helping me and treating me like I'm incapable of handling bad guys on my own!" Novia retorts.
Kid raises his hands defensively, "Woah babe, where's the animosity coming from?"
"And stop calling me 'babe'!" she snaps, surprised the glass doesn't shatter with the outburst.
M'gann looks discomforted by the whole exchange, "Uhh... Maybe we should rendezvous with Aqualad and the others?"
Floating behind her are the two assassins from before, unconscious and bound by a web. Using her telekinesis, she adds the tiger assassin to the group. But before doing so, Kid steals his mask. He considers the gold plating before tossing it to Novia who catches it by chance.
"No way are we fighting The Shadows without snagging a souvenir," he tells her. She feels wrong for snapping at him, muttering her appreciation out of guilt. But she freezes before following them out of the decimated store.
She had caught but a glimpse of the tiger assassin's face, stomach tightening because what she presumed to be a man is in actuality a young boy. An adolescent with ochre skin and hair that is dark, extremely curly with a certain gloss to it.
No part of her gets satisfaction from keeping his mask. But she makes no move to return it.
Outside the store, her body feels weighed down as though something sits on her chest. The sound of glass is still there crashing like waves against a crag. She has a headache. But it doesn't just throb. There's something else—hard to discern because it's so faint. She only does because the touch is so familiar that she seeks it out. And there it is. In the storefront window, reflected in the glass, is a man.
Her heart begins to race upon seeing him because he is as he left her. Lean with a faint smile and brows that upturn from interest. And his eyes—she looks away because she already knows they're green. Green and fixated on her.
She swears her throat contracted at that very moment. It is within the same moment she subconsciously sent the windows to shatter, disrupting his image.
Upon withdrawing, breathing becomes foreign to her. The whispers of glass begin to grow distant, fading into mere reactions in the skin. He is hurt she did that. She knows it. And regret sends her to run—don't look back because he's likely calling for her.
She finds the others at the end of the street. Roquette is still alive, albeit ridden with fear; Aqualad has a certain fatigued look in his face, and Artemis seems mildly distressed over what Kid was saying to her.
They all turn to her, confused because she's breathless and she looks as though she just saw a ghost. And—technically—she did. But she doesn't want to talk about it. So, she deters them from even asking.
"What happened here?" she asks, breathless.
"Artemis lost her assassin," Kid says which earns him a sharp jab from M'gann.
"But the mission was successful, regardless." Aqualad states. He extends his hand to Artemis to which she accepts.
"Welcome to the team."
August 9th
01:00 EDT
Mount Justice
"You're lucky nothing is broken," Canary tells her after reviewing the x-rays. She looks to her with worried eyes, "But I can imagine how much it hurts."
Novia says nothing. The only pain that bothers her is the one inflicted on her ego. The assassin's words were far more hurtful than what he did to her. And what she intended to do to him—
What she would've done to him—
She grips her knees to keep her hands from trembling. Things could have been worse. Way worse. But what's done is done.
Her leg and neck sustained a few cuts from the serrated chain. Quite minor, considering she accumulated them in her glass form.
Canary, sensing the girl's disquiet state, sets down the x-rays, "For now, I think it'd be best if you get some rest." Novia agrees, silently leaving the infirmary.
She catches Artemis before the archer could leave through the zeta-tube. She was visibly perturbed until she noticed Novia approaching. She offers a small smile, knitted brows still revealing the remnants of her earlier thoughts—likely still upset by the fact her assassin got away.
"You okay?" Novia asks.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Artemis gestures to her bandages.
Novia merely shrugs in response, "It's nothing, really. But you've been acting weird since the mission,"
"I'm just late for curfew," Artemis says hurriedly.
Novia doesn't buy it. She can sense a half-baked lie because she's used to dredging them up.
"I get it. Kid can be annoying. Just try not to take his remarks seriously," she tells her, "You did really well out there, and—"
"Trust me, I'm way over that idiot," Artemis crosses her arms. She sighs, withdrawing upon realizing she had interrupted, "Sorry. Just super drained after the mission. And like I said: curfew." She points the zeta-tube behind her with a weak smile.
Novia can't shake the concern she feels for Artemis. She'd say more but the zeta-tube roars over her thoughts and the computer awakens, announcing:
Recognized:
Artemis B-07
And like that, she is gone. But the cave doesn't fall completely silent. There are still the echoes of another conversation—the remainder of her team in the mission room with Batman and Red Tornado. They stand before a holographic screen and beside the two League members is a table with the assassins' masks.
"We will determine the identity of the female assassin," Batman assures.
"But this mask is identical to that of Bronze Tiger," Red Tornado says, gesturing to the tiger mask. He looks to Batman as if he could say more but his colleague announces his thoughts for him.
"Ben Turner has been in Belle Reve since 2008."
Batman pulls up a file on the holographic computer, revealing an African American man, shaven-headed and sporting a leather jacket. His fists are clawed just like the younger assassin Novia faced. He has an imposing stature despite his calm expression. He's clearly not one to be trifled with.
And though this wasn't the assassin Novia faced, she notices the relativity that goes beyond their tiger getup. The claws and stripes are only half of it. There's the physique as well—a composure that Novia can see in the boy as well as the man before her. He's calm, experienced enough that he didn't have to sweat when facing individuals his age with superpowers. And she realizes—
Murderous intent can be hereditary.
"It's his son," Novia says, surprised by the fullness of her own voice.
Batman nods, typing something into the computer and a profile of a woman appears beside Ben Turner. Her skin is tanned, and her face thin with a head full of wavy hair.
Batman looks back to the team, "Before imprisonment, Ben Turner had a brief affair with a woman by the name of Aliyah Araújo. She is a resident of Metropolis and at some time, birth to a son by the name of Wes Araújo."
"So—what? He's a bastard's child?" Superboy asks. Everyone turns to him and he raises his brow, oblivious until M'gann nudges him, glowering and likely chiding him telepathically. But he corrects himself, albeit hesitantly, "Illegitimate. Sorry."
"It is likely Ben Turner kept his distance from the boy. Wes has no criminal record," Red Tornado says.
"Until now," Wally adds, complacency in his tone.
The image of Aliyah and Ben fades to give way to a video of a teenager—Wes Araújo. He looks different as he stands on the crowded subway. Nothing about him screams "murderous assassin". Yet nothing about him says saint either. He just looks... normal.
He wears a black shirt with black slacks. Both of which do nothing to conceal the paint marring them. But he doesn't care. He's too focused on the MP3 player in his hands. His thumb slides along it as he holds the car strap for support, slight swaying with the jerks of the subway.
The video plays on a constant loop as her teammates speak to the two League members. Novia eyes refuse to move from it. The rest comes in a half a blur. She can't recall when she agreed to join them in the lounge. In fact, she isn't sure if she ever agreed to join in the first place.
She is tired, lethargic, and barely catching onto the conversation. Only when Robin suddenly rises, wrist computer blaring, does she look up in consideration.
"Trouble in Gotham?" Wally asks. He leans against the sofa with a half-eaten apple in hand.
"More like your everyday prison break," Robin says, eyes never leaving his wrist computer.
"Do you need help?" M'gann offers.
Wally looks at her, visibly amused by her ignorance, "Trust me, Batman is never gonna let a group of superpowered teens step foot in Gotham without his permission,"
"And if we go, what's he gonna do about it?" Superboy asks, arms crossed.
"Do you really want an answer?"
All eyes shift to Batman who is standing in the hall. Whether he's been there for the whole conversation or just Superboy's threat, no one can discern. And it doesn't seem like he wants to indulge any further because he looks directly at Robin.
"Let's go."
Robin silently complies and upon their departure, Novia decides that now is the perfect time to retire for the night.
04:08 EDT
Somewhere in Maryland
He is a recruit, likely no more than 5 months into the business. Wes can make this out solely by the way he holds his rifle. Any more careless and there's a chance of negligent discharge. But it's evident the guard isn't worried about that as much as he is for the young Shadow before him.
It's possible he's wondering how someone so young can be so composed in such circumstances. No doubt already labeling him a sociopath.
Wes has been staring at his handcuffs for the past hour. They're like thick vambraces. Heavy as hell too. And this collar they snapped on him... He has no idea what its purpose is. They're considerable measures taken for a teenager with no powers, and he can imagine the precautions they would have undergone if he did have them.
Despite it all, Wes has long decided, even before departing Happy Harbor, that he cannot go to Belle Reve. He knows being a juvenile, his treatment in Reve would be less severe. They had already taken the care of separating him from Hook and Black Spider. But going there would mean seeing his father.
And that is something he does not want to do.
He'd be deemed a failure of a protégé. The strenuous trainings he underwent would be all in vain. His years of relations with the Shadows severed. And his mother—his poor, oblivious mother—will be distraught after losing her only child.
"I know what you're thinking," The guard says.
Wes looks up. He was just getting used to the silence of the ride and is most certainly not looking for conversation. But the man takes his acknowledgment as a cue to continue.
"You're wondering how you can redeem yourself. And I want you to know that you're still young. It's not too late to change."
Wes watches him intently, offering no words that could express what he's truly thinking.
But the guard sighs, setting his rifle down on his lap, "Look, kid. They're not gonna give you a break once you hit eighteen." He frowns, "I'm sure you never grew up hoping this would be your life. You probably had dreams. Aspirations."
The question elicits a small smile from Wes because, at the age of five, he did want to be a ninja—just never knew what it actually entailed until he happened upon his father. But there was something else he realized he had a talent for in his final years of middle school. Art. His mother had always bought him colored pencils, pastels, and various paints in an effort to fuel his creativity—anything really to keep him from becoming his father.
But that clearly was inevitable.
Still, he admits it, allowing the vulnerability.
The guard considers this with a nod, "Tell you what. I'll put in a good word for you. Reve probably has some sort of program for juveniles. They'll probably have you painting murals around the city, volunteer, y'know—whatever to keep yourself occupied and out of this assassin mess."
Wes stares at him. This time truly lost for words. And, the recruit offers him a sincere smile.
"You'll get through this," He promises.
Wes returns the smile, completely feigned, "Thank you."
Abruptly, he smashes his cuffs into the side of the guard's head. The crack that follows comes from the helmet dislodging. The man barely has time to register the first blow before Wes delivers the second from above. Another crack. This one from the skull.
The man's rifle drops to the floor, firing into the wall that separates them from the driver's seat.
Wes breathes heavy, looking down at the man—how his black hair begins to shine with the mixture of blood. He never had a chance to use the gun. A price for growing far too comfortable with the teen before him.
And these cuffs—they're heavier than Wes assumed. He needs to get rid of them. It'll only hinder his escape.
The vehicle slows to a stop. He hears a commotion coming from the front. The two other guards slamming their doors as they approach the back. Understandably alerted, having heard the gunfire.
Wes inhales, preparing himself. He wouldn't have been in this mess had it not been for those kids. Who knew they'd put up such a fight for one doctor? And—sudden anger upon realizing—he actually could've escaped if he hadn't been distracted by that girl.
Should've just killed her and get it over with, his father would've chastised. He'd disagree.
The metal doors swing open, and the two men look up at Wes. One with his rifle's sight homed onto his forehead and the other with a remote. A sudden surge of electricity overwhelms him when the man activates it. The collar on his neck whistles as his body trembles.
It's enough to incapacitate him. sending him on the ground next to the guard's corpse. He feels the shadows of the two men loom. One pulls up his eyelid to make sure he's still alive. A dead prisoner would be useless.
"Complete bullshit," the guard mutters, shining light into Wes' eyes. He directs the man beside him, "Get the straitjacket. You're gonna have to watch him till we get to Reve."
The other guard groans his displeasure but complies. And, more importantly, he does what Wes leaves his partner unaccompanied.
The man with the remote still hangs over him in an effort to assess his state. But he's overtaken with shock when the teen abruptly reanimates and bites his nose. And not just bite but gnaw. His shriek fills the back of the vehicle. And he's only able to free himself with a sudden jerk that leaves him with a torn columella.
Hand cupping the blood and too frantic to stand, he reaches for the remote. His distraught crawling makes it easier for Wes to lock his legs around his head and slam him back down onto the metal floor. The man incessantly pats the boy's thigh as though they are wrestling—as if a referee would make the pain cease.
"Please," he begs, choked words gurgled with his own saliva and blood that reddens his teeth.
Wes' has to close his eyes. Even he has his limits. But he must remind himself that he cannot go to Belle Reve. He tightens his grip and with a sudden twist—
There is no snap. There seldom is. It's more of a pop that is muted by his thighs. But in the end, the man falls limp as intended.
Wes kicks upright, slight stumble from the weight of the cuffs. The other guard had heard the commotion—probably even his colleague's final pleas. His footsteps clamber to return to the rear of the vehicle. He's afraid, very much afraid, because a teen has outsmarted not one but two Belle Reve guards.
And it sends him on the offense.
Wes seizes a corpse, using it as a shield because the guard immediately fires at the sight of him. He can imagine what's going through his head amidst the adrenaline: Fuck this.
Or, more likely: I don't get paid enough for this shit
The corpse soaks in the bullets. Its bulletproof vest working wonders, but the impact becomes another thing.
Sudden rage sends Wes to shove the body onto the guard and the man collapses under the weight, rifle clattering against the asphalt. His face, like his colleague before him, is sculpted by fear. And he begs—which by now is to no surprise.
"Just let me go. I won't tell Waller."
Wes would consider his words had he knew who Waller was. And even as the man promises this, he still makes the attempt to reach for his rifle, fingers just grazing the tip.
Wes kicks it away. Now kneeling beside the guard. He must look deranged, mouth bloodied as he asks, "Where's the key for these handcuffs?"
The man stammers, "Front. In the ignition. All of them on a chain with the truck keys."
He smiles, "Thank you."
But he becomes solemn once more, mind made up long ago. It takes effort this time to raise his hands, both the weight of the cuffs and the weight of his guilt hindering him. He knows better. The Shadows taught him better than to pity the weak. Yet he closes his eyes, winces when he brings the cuffs down full force. It may have been his imagination, but this crunch is louder than the others. More vivid.
If his father was here to see him retch on the side of the road, he'd call him weak—tell him that three men had to die because he was too soft on one girl. The same girl he could have killed without effort. The same girl who distracted him long enough to be captured.
The very same girl whose anger made the glass tremble around them.
Yes, he heard those final moments between his retreat and the Martian's attack. He heard the shards shift towards his direction, saw a crack forming on the windows, the lights above had begun to tremble. He's familiar with it. Rage and bloodshed tend to go well together. And he knew at that moment she wanted to kill him.
He laughs. It's hilarious. So hilarious, because—
That girl was actually going to kill him because he would not kill her.
He'll admit it's strange as well. Also, a first. He regrets not entertaining it more, wishing that he wasn't too absorbed with the assignment. Perhaps in the end she was holding back as much as he was.
And who is she? Not one of the League's runts for sure. He'd recognize her powers. No. This girl is mentor-less. A loose cannon. And—if he knows Batman well enough—a dangerous investment on his part. But the man cannot be that dumb. He has his reasons.
And now Wes is curious.
Wes removes the ring of keys from the ignition. He goes through each one of them on his cuffs until he finds the right one. Relieved from the excess weight, he moves on to the collar. The device leaves a red mark on his neck, remnants of the electricity that surged through it.
At the foot of the passenger's seat is an iron container holding his weapons. He opens it and retrieves his comms device, wincing at the crackling in his ear before he can properly tune it. He licks his lips, regrettably taking in more of the guard's blood as well as traces of vomit.
"Tiger speaking. Permission to return to Infinity Island."
At first, he receives only static. But then Sensei's voice emerges.
"Negative, Tiger. We have another assignment for you," Upon hearing his superior's orders, Wes' smiles, eyes alight as they settle on the empty road ahead.
It seems the Shadows are curious as well.