"Listen, al Ghul, I don't care how much you threaten me, you ain't getting shit for free."
Damian al Ghul glared at the midget in front of him. Gizmo was one of the best black market engineers in all of the the area, and had been ever since he'd fled the United States, but the damn brat was also a filthy pain in his ass. Once upon a time, only one man had ever told Damian no.
Now it seemed everyone, including someone he could kill without a thought, had that power.
"I can pay you back after the job," Damian said through gritted teeth, "but I can't do the job without equipment."
"Yeah, well, maybe if you didn't throw away your equipment like a child with a temper tantrum, you'd still have the last batch I made you," Gizmo said sourly, not looking up from his workbench. Behind his welding goggles, Damian knew the young man would be squinting, not paying attention to him. It would be so easy to slide over and break the bastard's neck.
Well, if it wasn't for the mountain that was guarding him and watching Damian like a hawk. Mammoth was some sort of genetic freak and the polar opposite of his boss. Where Gizmo was a dwarf blessed with uncanny brilliance, Mammoth was giant cursed with the brains of his namesake. But he had the strength, size, and durability to toss just about anything and everything like a child's toy.
Damian had learned that the hard way the first time he'd threatened Gizmo to get what he wanted.
"The hell did you want me to do Gizmo?" Damian snapped. "Stick around to pick everything up? The fucking cops were after me!"
Gizmo paused his micro-welding to lift up his goggles and give Damian a flat look through narrow eyes.
"Aren't you supposed to be some sort of super assassin?" the American drawled sarcastically. "Raised from birth by the legendary League of Shadows. You keep claiming to be heir to the demon himself. I'd have thought you'd be able to sneak around and get the job done regardless of what cops were about."
Mammoth let out a chuckle at Damian's expense that made the teen assassin blush hard with embarrassment and anger.
The truth was Damian should never have been here. This was not the life he was supposed to lead. It burned him, burned him with an unholy fire that made him clench his fists so hard that Mammoth lost his humor and stood up, ready to fight.
Four years ago, his twelfth birthday had been like any other. Mother had woken him up for training. Grandfather had promised him a suitable celebration for the special day.
Then his grandfather's lieutenant had led a coup against their family. Grandfather had died. Mother had been mortally wounded, surviving only long enough to get him on a plane with a destination and a name. Gotham, and Bruce Wayne. His father.
Only when he'd gotten there, his supposed father had been dead. No one had believed his claims of being the man's son, and a genetic test had proven inconclusive. Bruce Waynes three wards refused to acknowledge him, and he didn't have the resources to do anything but go on the run.
Now four years later, he was just a second rate assassin too poor to buy equipment from an exiled dwarf. A laughing stock whose reputation had been destroyed before it had even begun. Pursued by both the League that should have been his, and the false sons of his faceless father. A prince, twice dethroned by pretenders and usurpers.
Gizmo and Mammoth exchanged a look, the former grimacing as the latter shrugged. The dwarf would never admit it, but he knew how it felt to lose everything. They both did. It was why they still worked with the other teen, for all his violence. Plus, if the kid was telling the truth, it was better to be on his good side rather than not. Only thing worse than having a powerful friend was a powerful enemy with a grudge because he felt slighted.
Still, best not to let the bastard think he had anything over them. Better that he owed them.
"Look," Gimzo said. "I won't give you what you want without payment. I start with you, every prick is gonna demand charity. I'll tell you what I will do. I got some equipment needs testing. You can borrow it, on the promise you pay me back if you lose it and you understand it might blow up in your face."
Damian shook, flushing harder at the humiliation of being a charity case, but he didn't have a choice.
"Fine," he said, his voice just this side of a snarl. "What have you got."
Gizmo twisted on his spinning stool and nodded at Mammoth. Before the big man could move, however, there was the ringing of the shop bell from the front of the store. All three men froze, Damian and Gizmo glaring at each other.
"I told you to lock the door when you came in," Gizmo hissed.
"I did," Damian snapped softly. "You didn't tell me anyone else was coming."
"No one was supposed to," Gizmo snapped back. "Mammoth, go see who it is."
"Okay, boss," the big teen said, scratching the scruffy beard on his face in confusion. He lumbered out of the workshop and into the front of the store.
"Welcome to Gizmo's Gizmos," he rumbled, saying the words more from wrote memory than true understanding. "Where we have all your technological needs."
"Thank you," a girl's sensual, husky voice answered.
"I'm afraid we're closed," Mammoth. "Boss'll be back in an hour. You can come back then."
Damian edged to stand behind the door and look out the crack to see who was there. A knife appeared in his hand, the flat of the blade pressed against his arm. If Gizmo had sold him out, it would be the last thing the little dwarf ever did.
Through the gap, he was just able to see what had to be one of the most alluring young women he'd ever come across in his life, and he felt his heart stop even as something lower started getting harder. She was somewhere over five and a half feet tall, with hair so dark it had almost violet highlights. Those dark locks framed angel's face with violet eyes and lips stained with black lipstick. A black latex leotard so tight that it not only left nothing to the imagination, it was actually handing out fully illustrated fliers, clung to a succubi's sensual form. The last part of her outfit was a blood red cloak that had been pulled back to expose her outfit, held in place by a raven shaped pendant.
"I'm looking for someone," the young woman said in that same, heady, husky voice. "His name is Damian al Ghul. I was told he was here."
Mammoth stood their silently, his limited facilities unsure how to deal with the situation. Finally, the gears ground together enough that the big teen turned and walked back into the work room, shutting the door.
"Boss," he grumbled, jerking a thumb back at Damian. "Girl here. She wants him."
"Geez you big idiot, just go ahead and shout it out loud," Gizmo grumbled, face palming. The dwarf drew his hand away. "She a cop."
"Not dressed like that," Damian said, his voice rough. It cracked on the last word, making him flush hard with embarrassment. "I've never seen a cop dressed like that. Might be one of them superheroes though."
"Damn it," Gizmo grumbled. "I moved here to get away from super fucking heroes."
The dwarf jumped down off his stool and squeezed his way past Mammoth. Damian looked out the crack again as Gizmo went out into the main shop. For a moment, he could have sworn the girl looked right at him, her eyes glowing softly crimson. Then it passed, and she was looking down at Gizmo as he climbed up a step ladder by the register.
"Look, lady," Gizmo said tartly, "the only ones here are me and Mam..."
He went silent as he finally saw the young woman in question.
"I take it you are Gizmo?" the young woman purred. Damian shuddered as her voice drifted over him. It was like having a pair of sharp nails dragged slowly, lightly, down his spine. Judging by Gizmo's reaction, the fucking bastard felt it too.
"Y-yeah," Gizmo managed to say. "T-that's me. Maybe I can help you."
The young woman was silent as she looked around the shop. One delicate hand dragged jet black nails over the glass counter. Somehow, it was like the opposite of nails on a chalkboard and Damian felt another shudder shake his body.
"Perhaps you can," the young woman said after a moment. "First though, I need Damian al Ghul."
The way she said his name shook him to his very core, as if she had touch some part of his true soul. Even as Gizmo protested that he wasn't there, Damian found himself moving from behind the door and around Mammoth to come into view. The girl's eyes lifted from the dwarf to meet his, and he thought he might drown in those violet orbs.
"There you are, Damian," she said. "I am glad you decided to stop hiding."
"I wasn't hiding," he said, managing to keep his voice from cracking again. "Who are you, and what the fuck do you want?"
"I want you, Damian," the girl said. The words sent a thrill through him. "I have a job that you would be perfect for."
"A job," Damian said. Some part of his brain that wasn't being ruined by teenage hormones twinged with a sense of danger. "What kind of job and what's the pay."
The girl tilted her head, studying him, in a rather avian motion. Her lips pursed in thought, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to kiss them. Or have them kiss him. Or do something other than kiss. Her eyes met his and he knew she knew what had passed through his mind.
"Not that kind of job," she said, giving him a slight smile. Like everything about her, it was sensual and beautiful. "Not yet. I need you to help me find some people and kill them."
"Sounds easy enough," Damian said, clenching his fists in an attempt to regain control over himself. "What's the pay?"
"The pay?" The woman repeated. "The payment would be returning what you lost. A throne."
Damian paused, frozen. There was no way. No way in hell she could do that.
"Lady, if you had that kind of power, you wouldn't need me to kill these people you want dead," he said, turning around to go back into the workshop. It felt like he was tearing his heart and soul out to look away from her. The hell was wrong with him.
"We would together," the young woman said. It felt like her words caressed his spine with a lover's touch. "What one cannot do alone, they can do with the help of others. Dear little Gizmo has promised me his aid already. With your help, we can both get what we want."
"Hey, now," Gizmo started to protest, "that's not what I..."
There was the sound of something solid being placed on the glass counter. Damian turned and saw a ruby, twice the size of his thumbnail, resting in front of the now silent dwarf.
"I'm willing to pay each of you the appropriate price for your help," the girl said, somehow making the offer as seductive as she was. "Do we have a deal?"