Little Bird's Vengeance Chapter 18 Deal
Bullet wounds caused vast amounts of pain. Drugs could put the mind in a haze and dull the pain. Meditation would obscure the pain so it wouldn't impact day-to-day life. Although any doctor or medic would be furious at the repeated attempts to pretend injury didn't exist that the Bats perpetuated.
Tim rolled to his feet, groaning slightly as he put weight on his bad leg. The bullet had torn straight through the flesh of his thigh, and although it was stitched up to stop any bleeding or infection, there was still a hole there. SHIELD had yet to find any painkillers he hadn't already developed resistance to, but at least meditation let him push the pain back enough to limp around.
The door buzzer sounded as he got out of bed and pulled his shirt back on. He limped to the door, and pulled it open. "Agent Romanov," he said. "I thought you and Agent Barton were on a mission?"
"We were recalled," the Russian replied. "The Director thought it prudent to have us around with you in custody."
"Fair enough," Tim shrugged, sitting down to pull his sneakers on. "I suppose he wants you to take over the interrogation?"
Romanov leant against the wall, watching his movements, undoubtedly picking up on the pain in his shoulder and leg. Tim didn't look up, not wanting to see if she felt pity or amusement for his weakness.
When he was better, he'd challenge her to a spar, assuming they were on speaking terms.
"You're to report to the medical bay," Romanov informed him casually. "The doctor wants to give you a check-up."
"Of course," Tim sighed. "Is there any chance I can have my gear back? Or at least some of it?"
"I haven't been given any instructions either way," Romanov told him. "I would have to ask."
Tim rose and, when he stumbled, Romanov offered him her arm as she led him through the Helicarrier. "I just want my med-kit, and the pill bottles in the arm-strap," he explained. "They're my own meds, I know how well they work for me."
"Sounds reasonable. The doctor may disapprove of self-medication, I must warn you."
Tim gave her a somewhat exasperated look. "The last set of painkillers he had for me gave me a migraine."
"I will ask the Director," Romanov promised, opening the door to the medical bay.
After ten minutes of the doctor poking his shoulder and leg, Romanov reappeared with the med-kit and both arm-straps. "We haven't worked out how to get into these yet," she said, handing them over. "Actually, we haven't tried this time."
Tim examined it for a moment, then flicked open the compartment and slid out three bottles. He closed up the pocket and tossed the straps back.
"What are those?" Romanov asked, nodding at the bottles.
"Antibiotics," he said, shaking a pill from one bottle, "Painkillers," taking two from the next, "And poison." He left that one closed, and tucked all three into his pocket with the kit.
"Why do you have a bottle of poison pills?" Romanov asked. "I didn't think you'd use poison."
"I take them. Oh, not suicide pills," he clarified, seeing her look. "I mean, how do you think we maintain our immunities?" He shrugged. "Anyway, we only take these ones every few weeks."
The doctor was looking just a little bit horrified, but Romanov nodded.
"Makes sense," she said. "If we're done here?"
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Fury was starting to like the kid, or at least not dislike him. He was very nearly as professional as one of his own star agents, but at the same time…seeing him stir restlessly in his sleep reminded Fury of the civilians he tried so hard to protect. Probably because of his age, and the incredible weight on his slim shoulders.
"Hill," he called. His second-in-command, Maria Hill, looked up from where she was examining one of the agents' screen, and came over.
"Sir?" she queried, eyes flicking to the open displays and Romanov ushering Red into the interrogation room.
"What do you think?" he asked, not needing to elucidate.
Hill frowned. "He's capable. If you find him trustworthy, he could go far."
Fury nodded. "You have the bridge," he instructed, and left.
When he reached the interrogation room, Red (or should he be thinking of him as Tim; that was his name, after all) was playing with his metal shard again. The sharp, shiny implement flicked this way and that, before it stilled.
"What is that?" Fury asked, nodded to it.
"Batarang," Red murmured. "Kinda throwing star-type thing. In the shape of a bat, of course."
"You did mention a 'Batman'," Fury reminded him. "Your mentor." He sat down opposite the teen. "I assume you don't mean a professional baseball player."
Red snickered. "No, definitely not. Have to remember that, Nightwing would love it. No, his suit is modelled after a bat."
Fury stared, trying to wrap his head around it. Red had called his female colleagues Black Bat and Batgirl, and with all the bird names, there was a definite flying-creature theme going on, but…
"Your mentor, your leader, dresses up as a flying rodent? Why?!"
Red shrugged. "Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot. It scares the living daylights out of them."
"You got to be kidding," Fury muttered.
"No, I'm serious," Red protested. "See, he learned from a group of people who used fear as a major weapon. When he started on his own, he couldn't use that particular kind of fear, so he found a new way to make criminals fear him. I have some really great newspaper articles about mob bosses claiming a bat demon was coming for them. It sounds weird, but it really works. The whole creature-of-the-night thing has organized crime preferring broad daylight, when the cops can get them more easily, so…"
"Is that the way your whole community works, then?" Fury asked. "Even your super-powered beings?"
"Nah, it's mostly us Gothamites," Red smirked. "And the Arrows in Star City a bit, but they really don't take it as far. No, the metas in general are more open, more likely to be out during the day, more visible in general. They don't have to be so careful about their own safety, and they have their own ways of gaining the…co-operation of the bad guys. I mean, if you can shoot lasers from your eyes, you don't have to be quite so free with stabbing people."
"How many of your…metas?...are there?"
"Depends on the definition," Red shrugged. "The technical definition is a human possessing an active meta-gene. A looser definition, the one we actually use, is a person with greater than human abilities- although that includes the Atlanteans and the Amazons, and in general both those populations stay home, either under the sea or on Themyscira. The general populace would view anyone involved in that aspect of our community, either side of it, as a meta, which includes us Bats and the Arrows, but not the Atlanteans and Amazons. To compare with the Avengers, Banner and Rogers would probably fall into the technical definition, Thor and possibly Stark would join them for the second category, and all six in the last. That's just from what I've seen, though, I'd have to check their genome to be sure."
"Thor's an alien," Fury pointed out.
Red shrugged. "So are several of us. Does that all make sense?"
Fury thought for a moment. "I think so," he said. "Numbers?"
"Using our definition but excluding the general population of Atlanteans and Amazons, probably a few hundred worldwide on either side of the community. But metas are the majority of our community. Our equivalent of the Avengers is the Justice League; Batman's a founding member. Couple of other groups, the Justice Society, the Outsiders, the Titans- that's my team."
"This…Justice League. Who are they?"
"The roster changes frequently. The 'Big Three', who aren't actually there all the time, are Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. Wonder Woman's an Amazon, and Superman's from the planet Krypton. Captain Rogers really reminds me of him, though."
Fury sat back. Red had given him enough information to chew over without really giving up any secrets. He'd also inadvertently answered some questions about his own stance on certain issues, like how at ease he was working with people more powerful than him. SHIELD currently had an uneasy sort of truce with the mutants, based on the mutual understanding that as long as there weren't any more risings, they'd be treated the same as anyone else. But the mutants didn't have much of an understanding with each other; they hadn't formed their own society. "Quite a community," he drawled. "There's not one like it here, but perhaps we can give you the next best thing. Tell me, kid, how'd you like to become an Agent of SHIELD?"
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After only a few moments, Tim shook his head. "Thanks, but no. I fully intend to get home, and I don't think I'd really fit in with some of your methods. I'm no killer."
He'd known Fury was mulling over a proposition the moment he'd walked through the door, and employing him was a good way to keep him under control. But it wasn't for him.
"You don't kill?" Fury asked, slightly surprised.
"No." Tim kept it short and to the point. "We aren't authorised to make that call, so we avoid it as best we can. And Batman has personal reasons to hate guns. We follow his lead. I'll work with you, but I'll do it my way."
Fury frowned. "I could attach you to the Avengers, if you'd prefer that."
Tim shrugged. It was ideal; what he'd wanted all along, really. "If you like, I can solve cases for you, but my methods, and I won't do just anything you ask."
Fury nodded. "You're a minor, so you'll be under Barton and Romanov's guardianship. If you want, you can work on the assassination attempts on Stark. We'll give you a week. If you make no progress, we take over. If your performance is satisfactory, we'll give you more cases."
Tim nodded. "I'd also like access to your resources and connections to research how I can get home."
"You keep us in the loop, and it's yours."
"Deal."
Tim held out his hand, and Fury grasped it.
AN: This is late. This is late for a very good reason. I'm hoping that this chapter won't need further revision, or at least no further major revision. The last chapter did. The chapter before that did. Please go back and read them again; I have changed various passages here and there to clarify stuff and expand reasoning.
Oh, and if you still don't like that warning shot, I get it. I didn't like shooting Tim either. It just happened.
Anyway.
Next week, there should be more Black and Red. Things are heating up, and if you haven't voted in the poll yet, you may want to.
And in Family Ties, there's a scene some of you have been waiting months for.
Katara