Little Bird's Vengeance Chapter 13 A Perfectly Normal Day Out
Tim moved swiftly through the store, trying to finish quickly without losing Tony. Tony, on the other hand, appeared to be trying to examine every piece of clothing they passed, and then convince Tim he needed most of it.
The basket they'd picked up slowly got heavier, as they picked up underwear, three pairs of black jeans and some deep red shirts of various designs. They were heading towards the back, where the shoes were, when Tim stopped in front of some leather jackets.
"You like those, kid?" Tony asked, noticing his interest.
"Not bad," Tim said, admiring the sleek black leather. "A brother of mine would be just a little jealous."
"Get it then," Tony shrugged.
"It's not the cheapest," Tim warned. While he wouldn't have problems asking Bruce to get something like this, Tony wasn't his adopted father.
Tony shrugged again. "So? I have money."
Tim stared at him for a moment, before shaking his head. Stark seemed extremely, almost foolishly (to him) generous, not a bad thing though. Bruce wasn't as outgoing with his money, largely because he directly financed a dozen Batman Incorporated operatives worldwide and contributed to the Justice League. They had a lot of expenses to cover. Money was just another resource in their never-ending Mission.
Tony smirked as Tim selected a jacket and folded it into the basket. "Aren't you going to try it on?" he asked.
"Not with my gear beneath this jumper, no," the teen replied, moving off again.
Ten minutes later, he'd picked out a pair of sneakers (again declining to try them on), and convinced Tony he had enough clothes. On the way to the checkout, he snagged a pair of sunglasses, then paused, and darted to another section of the shop.
"What are you after now?" Tony asked as he caught up.
"It's hard to run with a carrier bag," Tim explained.
"We're running? When?"
Tim selected a large satchel, about the same size as the basket and slung it on his shoulder so it nestled on the small of his back. "Always anticipate trouble. Saves having to adjust when it all goes to hell."
"Does it usually?"
"No, not really." Tony looked confused, and Tim rolled his eyes. "It doesn't have to fall to pieces often, just once." He started heading back to the checkout again.
"Hey, wait!"
Tim wheeled round. "What now?"
"Look!" Tony held up a shirt modelled after his own armour; colored panels exactly replicating the chestplate. "You've got to get this."
Tim looked at it, unimpressed. "Um, no."
"Seriously?! Look, they've got a whole range of stuff." He gestured to the racks of shirts in different sizes, and Tim bothered with no more than the most cursory glance.
"Tony, no. I'm not interested in Avengers merchandise."
"Bet you have loads of these for your heroes back home."
Tim looked at him, wondering how he was so dense. "Walk around with a target on my chest? Um, no thank you."
Tony was staring back at him. "Why would a superhero shirt be a target?"
He just wasn't getting it. "You know, there are people out there who hate us and really want to kill us. And some of them, quite a few actually, are crazy enough to kill anyone stupid enough to show public support for us. I get enough assassination attempts as it is, thank you very much."
"…So no superhero shirts?"
"No. Can we just finish here before SHIELD find us and put me back in that cell?"
"Do you have any sense of fun?"
"Yes, I just keep it tightly restrained, because sometimes, I have these strange urges to stay alive."
"Funny, kid. Real hilarious."
"…I wasn't joking." Tony looked somewhat…disconcerted. 'Might have laid it on a little thick,' Tim thought, hoping the playboy would start taking things seriously. Tony was a hero who hadn't had everything come down on him yet; never been forced to go on the run. Hopefully he wouldn't ever have to. His enthusiasm and generosity would surely be dented if he was faced with anything too overwhelming . The life of a vigilante might have given Tim more skills than he could dream of, but in the depths of his mind, he knew he was damaged goods.
A price he was willing to pay to keep saving lives. Whether Tony would, or (possibly) wouldn't, he hopefully wouldn't be called upon to place himself on the line like that.
They finally got through the checkout and back onto the street. Tim put the sunglasses on over his eyes, dropped the carrier bag with the clothes and shoes into the satchel, and swung the strap onto his shoulder. Tony started extolling the virtues of a small café, and Tim let him drag him away, still feeling slightly disturbed at his earlier realisation at just how much the Mission ruled his life.
In the bright winter sun, a warm mug of coffee and a Danish pastry on the table in front of him, it was easier to shrug off the malaise, to sink into the easy conversation about the little gadgets he used; tracers, bugs, comms, his grapple. Of course, Tony kept trying to get back to the wings, but that was his secret, thank you very much. He still kept a wary eye running over the streets, watching.
He noticed a woman, Caucasian, approx. 30-34 years, looking nervous, as though in response to an imminent fear. Tim frowned; either she was a seer, in trouble and needing help, or up to no good. Examining her normal-looking jeans and cream overcoat, he spotted something jutting out, the fabric falling strangely against the bulge on her hip. A firearm.
"Tony," he murmured. "Will you do something for me?"
"Sure, kid," he said lightly. "What?"
"If I tell you to do something, duck, run, whatever, will you do it, no questions, no hesitation?"
"What? Why?" Tony picked up on Tim's urgent tone, and now looked wary.
"Call it a precaution."
"Something's up, isn't it?" Tony leaned in, twisted around, and started trying to follow Tim's line of sight.
"…Maybe."
"Do you look for trouble everywhere?" Tony murmured, relaxing a bit when he failed to see the threat.
"Yes. It's a habit. It generally works." Tim picked up his coffee cup, and raised it to eye level, carefully watching the suspect's reflection in a shop window. He quickly checked all spots where a sniper could have a bead on his suspect, and sighted a few others, none of whom were targeting the woman, and all were waiting for her move, by the look of it. The woman was the lead; the others back-up. A shoot-out in the streets would not be pleasant. Maybe she hadn't seen her target…
Yeah, right.
"Must be useful," Tony said wistfully. "Not having to worry about someone sneaking up on you, 'cause you know you'll always see them coming."
"You kidding?" Tim took a sip and set down the cup. "Always watching. Always worrying. No peace. Stark, I don't watch because it makes me feel safe, I watch because if I don't, I'm not safe. I've spent far too long with a target on my head. Knowing when someone's pointing a gun in your general direction, it's not a habit you want to need to develop."
"What could possibly be wrong with being watchful?"
"Because the only way to get this kind of watchfulness is by- Get down!"
Tim pushed Tony back, flipping backwards himself and slipping his borrowed jumper off. With free access to his gear, he drew his staff, extended it and vaulted over the crowd to the woman, who'd drawn the gun and fired at the table he and Tony had been sitting at. The bullet missed, going into the floor. Someone screamed, and the passers-by seemed transfixed. He crashed into her, knocking her down and disarming her.
Tim knelt on her torso and laid his staff crossways across her windpipe. "Who are you? Why are you trying to kill Stark?"
AN: Duh duh DUH! So Tony's in trouble, Tim's angsting a bit, and there's trouble ahead. Who is attacking Tony? Will Tim ever get through to Stark about his lifestyle? And where has SHIELD got too; they've been very quiet recently...
Tune in next week for our next exciting installment.
By the way, kudos to Glimare. The bit about why Tim doesn't wear hero shirts came from her Where's Robin? in the Young Justice cartoon section.
As always, please please PLEASE review. Love ya for it. And if you're getting curious about something you don't think I've explained, feel free to ask.
See ya in seven days.
Katara