AN: So... Yeah... Not sure how well this is going, because I'm writing these chapters basically back to back, but I hope that everyone's enjoying the reboot.
DISCLAIMER: Young Justice is a property of Warner Brothers, DC and Netflix. Please support the official release.
|STAR CITY
|February 21, 09:23 PDT
As I hung upside-down from my legs on the fire escape just outside of Dinah's seventh floor apartment, I thought of the past couple days I'd had. Yesterday, Dinah had brought Bucky and me to her apartment to "move in," though I hesitate to say that I had. Dinah attempted to buy Bucky and me clothes. Bucky loved it, getting nearly half a dozen outfits; I was sufficient with two black t-shirts, a red hoodie, and a pair of jeans. I refused to get anything more, despite however much Dinah insisted. I didn't want to acquire too many possessions, and I certainly didn't want to get comfortable here. Not that I could. I did not intend to stay here long. Though it seemed Bucky was perfectly content to do so. I didn't really understand how she could like that woman. Then again, Dinah hadn't abandoned her at birth. I growled to myself. Letting my legs slip, I began free falling along the side of the building.
I tried to think of a way to get back at Slade. I would need to find him first. I didn't have access to my gear anymore. Dinah had it confiscated before we had even left the Hall of Justice. If I was going to find him, I would need weapons. Some smoke bombs, flash grenades, a good disguise, transportation. Everything a growing boy needs. Unfortunately, these were not things that I could just gather from the local grocery store. Though, everyone knew that Black Canary was dating Green Arrow. It was possible that he would have the equipment that I would require, at least to start. From there, it would only be a matter of finding an airport with a jet that could get me across the Pacific to Bialya. At least from there I could track him. I reached out and grabbed a hold of the fire escape about five floors down, swinging myself onto the landing. When my feet hit the grate, I could tell I wouldn't be able to fully stop my momentum. To avoid breaking my legs, I jumped backwards, completely reversing my direction. I grabbed a hold of the railing to keep from leaping over the abyss a few feet behind me. Keeping a tight grip, I swung over and hung on the bar for a moment.
It all sounded great in theory, but there weren't many private airfields that were willing to just up and let a fourteen year old take a jet. Plus, I didn't even know who Green Arrow was. I had my theories, but I wasn't able actually see his face yet. Plus, Dinah and he seemed to be having some form of disagreement. I heard her speaking on the phone with him the night before, asking him to come and actually meet me and Bucky, but he didn't seem to want to. At the time I was relieved, I didn't really want to meet him either, but now I could use his tech. I needed his tech. I began to climb back up the side of the fire escape to her apartment. I climbed back through the window without even having broken a sweat.
Dinah's apartment was little and simple. A coffee table sat in the center of the living room in between a sofa (there was a blanket and a pillow sprawled on the floor as proof that the couch served as my bed for the night) and a TV on an entertainment center. Across from the living area, along the same wall, there was a small glass table with metal legs. Four metal chairs surrounded it. It wasn't the kind of eating area that got used very often. Just behind the dining area was a fully stocked kitchen with one wall completely open to the dining area. There were empty KFC buckets and containers scattered along the counters from last night's dinner. Along the wall, midway between the kitchen and the dining area was a hallway that lead to a master bedroom, a guestroom and a bathroom. There were three windows around the room that let in plenty of light. The whole apartment was well furnished with rather modern, though simple and clearly inexpensive, furniture that seemed underused. It gave off the sense that whoever lived there, didn't spend much time there.
Standing in front of me was a clearly perplexed and uncomfortable Dinah in a bathrobe that barely covered her. I was grateful that she had decided to wear pajamas underneath it, though for some reason, she still pulled the little fabric of the robe over herself as if she were still exposed. I couldn't help but notice she had little green arrows all over her pajama pants.
"What were you doing out there?" She asked.
"Exercising," I stated plainly.
"Why were you exercising on the-" she began.
"There was nothing on cable," I cut her off.
"Ah," she muttered.
She examined me with confusion in her eyes. Regarding me, the way it seems, that she had since she had first seen me, as if I was some unpleasant assignment from a jerk boss that she didn't know how to deal with. We stared at each other in an awkward silence for a few moments.
"I could make some breakfast if you're hungry?" She offered.
"Do what you will. I don't really care," I snipped.
She looked clearly upset about that, but before she could say anything to berate me, Bucky walked out from the hall.
"Good morning," Bucky yawned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
Dinah walked over and placed her hand on Bucky's head. "Hey, good morning, dear," Dinah smiled. "How's breakfast sound?"
Bucky cheered, "Can we have pancakes? I've never had them before!"
Dinah's smile faltered for a second, before she recovered her facade. "Sure, I'll just need to go to the store for some things."
Bucky deflated a little, "Oh... I don't want to be a burden-"
Dinah crouched down to her level, "Don't ever think that, Elizabeth."
Bucky smiled broadly, "Call me Bucky."
Dinah returned her smile, "OK, Bucky."
I felt so awkward just being the same room as them. I don't know if I was grateful or annoyed that someone knocked at the door. Maybe both. I tried to hide how I tense I became, but I think that Dinah could still somehow tell. Cautiously, she walked over and looked through the peephole. By her reaction, it was either a tax collector or-
"What do you want Ollie?" She sighed. Ollie?
"Can we please talk?" I heard a muffled reply.
"Ollie, I don't think this is a good time," Dinah explained.
"I brought doughnuts," he offered, as if that made all the difference.
Apparently it did because Dinah opened the door a little. I still couldn't see who this Ollie was, but I could hear him a bit better, plus with the way they spoke to each other...
"What are you doing here?" Dinah sighed.
"Can we please just talk?" He begged.
With a sigh, Dinah stepped aside and opened the door, revealing a tall blond man with a goatee and mustache in an expensive looking suit and holding a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. On sight I could clearly tell that this man was Green Arrow.
"Tommy, Bucky, this is Oliver," Dinah introduced.
"Hey, kids," he smiled.
"Hello," Bucky smiled. I remained silent.
"I was just about to go to the store to get some things to make pancakes," Dinah explained.
Oliver smiled, "Well, now you don't need to." He walked into the kitchen and set the box of doughnuts on the counter.
"Bucky hasn't ever had pancakes before, so we were going to make them together," Dinah insisted.
Oliver seemed to realize what he had said. "Oh, alright," quickly recovering, he smiled, "I prefer pancakes to doughnuts anyway."
Dinah crossed her arms, "Does this mean you're planning on sticking around for breakfast?"
Oliver's light blue eyes darted back and forth between her and Bucky and me. "I was hoping to. And I was hoping we could have a little conversation."
Dinah seemed to debate it for a second before turning to us and saying, "Why don't you two go and get ready? Then well go to the store to get some stuff for breakfast. Tommy you can change in my room."
"Huh..." I huffed. "Fine."
As I walked down the hall, I heard them begin to argue. Well, it started as a discussion, but then turned into some kind of argument. A very hushed argument, but an argument none the less. I was relieved that Bucky didn't have the same serum I had running through my veins, enhancing my senses so that I could still hear them through the wall.
"OK, what do you have to say?" Dinah demanded.
"First off, I'll admit I had no right to say what I said yesterday," he apologized, "I had no right-"
"Damn right, you had no right!" Dinah cut him off. "I thought you, of all people would've understood, Ollie."
"I guess I was just hurt that you had never told me that you had had a son. I didn't think of why you didn't. And now, to have two children come into your life at the same time... the last thing you needed was me asking all of these hard questions. Making accusations..." he trailed off.
"Huh, I know you don't mean to be this way. In truth, I wasn't ready to deal with this either. When I saw his face yesterday..." unintentionally, my spine stiffened, "it was just like I was a scared teenager again. Just as lost. Just as confused." There was a pause as if the weight of that moment weighed on her. As if the weight of me weighed on her.
I turned away from the door, sick of hearing how much of a burden I was to everyone. I quickly changed into the outfit that Dinah bought for me the day before then barged out of the room. Dinah and Oliver jumped when I did, it seemed that they were comforting each other.
"I'm ready," I stated plainly.
"You don't need to take a shower?" Oliver asked. It was hard to judge by his voice but it seemed like he was just trying to get rid of me again.
"I took one earlier," I answered simply.
Bucky came out of the hallway wearing a tie-dye t-shirt with bleached bluejeans and red sneakers. She looked like a miniature hippy.
"Don't you look adorable!" Oliver smiled at her.
"Thank you sir!" She smiled back.
"You don't need to call me sir, you can just call me Ollie," Oliver smiled.
"OK, Ollie," she beamed, "you can call me Bucky."
"Bucky," he grinned.
"Can we go?" I asked impatiently. Oliver grimaced at me, I didn't care.
"Let me get ready and then we can go," Dinah said.
She walked into her room to get changed, meanwhile Oliver regarded us as if he had no idea what to do with us. Like everyone else. After a moment's hesitation, Oliver just started busying himself by clearing up our dinner from last night. Bucky and I walked over and sat down on the couch. She smiled forlornly at me. I turned away.
"Tommy-" She muttered.
"Don't talk to me," I grumbled.
"Why are you so angry with me?" She asked.
"You know why," I hissed. "I told you to keep quiet. I could've gotten us out of there without all of..." I gestured around us, "this!"
"How?" She asked.
I glared at her, "I would've figured something out."
"No you wouldn't," she insisted. I just looked away. "Where would you have gone, Tommy? Where would we have gone?"
"I know how to take care of myself," I said.
"And what about me? I can't," she said. How did she think of all of this? "Daddy is dead, Tommy," her voice choked up a bit, "I don't have any family. Not really."
I placed my hand on her shoulder, "You have me!"
"You're not my real brother, Tommy," she teared up a little.
"Don't say that!" I insisted.
"But you're not. Not really," she looked up at me, suppressing her tears, "but you do have a family!"
"She is not my family!" I hissed.
She was clearly surprised by my outburst. I didn't care. Dinah came out of the hallway dressed in her casual wear, a light brown jacket over a white tank-top and a pair of yoga pants with a pair of leather boots that came up to her calf.
"OK, let's go," she announced.
Nothing at all happened. Not in the car ride to the store. Not at the store. Not on the way back. Nothing. I hate it. The entire time it felt like I was watching a bubble grow and grow. The anticipation of it popping in the air. I sat in the living space as far away from the kitchen, where the three happiest people in the world making blueberry pancakes, watching the news. I tried to ignore them, they seemed content to do the same. The news was just rattling on about how there was some impressive new stealth plane at the "Ferris Aircraft" base. Apparently it had the "fastest take off in recorded history!" I didn't know where the base was. If I could find it, maybe it could help me, but until then, I was stuck.
I looked over at them. Oliver was cooking bacon as Bucky flipped pancakes and Dinah mixed up more badder. They all laughed and joked. With her stark resemblance to the two of them, Bucky truly did look like their daughter. They looked like a family. Like something from out of a hallmark movie. It made my skin crawl.
I turned back to the TV where it showed a map of the area where Ferris Aircraft was. After a second, I recognized something. The road that we took to the grocery store was shown. It wasn't far from here! Just a few hours! Plus, I remembered a bus station not far away as well. I would need money though.
I hazarded a glance at the kitchen. None of them were looking at me. Dinah had left her purse in her room. I just had to get there. Slowly I tried to sneak across the room to her door.
"Tommy?" Dinah's voice cut me off halfway to the hall. Hesitantly, I turned to her. "Come join us."
For a few seconds I just stood there in the center of the room. The silence that filled the air was smothering; a horrid musty duvet that completely engulfed me. Her gaze pinned me in place. A small smile played on her lips as she held out a whisk to me in offering. I couldn't help but stare at it as my heart hammered in my chest. I looked up into her pale blue eyes, eyes like mine. Eyes that I had never been able to see before the day before. Eyes that I should've know my whole life. There was a soft sincerity in her eyes, though it hid a darkness behind it. Almost as if, beyond an offer to help cook, this was a desperate attempt to save someone's life. I couldn't tell if it was mine or hers.
I hazarded a glance at Oliver and Bucky, who both seemed to be holding their breath as if my answer was somehow instrumental to their lives. They had both completely stopped working. Their entire being focused on my reaction. Impossibly, it made the silence even more quiet. Even more daunting.
My eyes shifted back to the outstretched whisk in Dinah's hand. I had never heard a kitchen utensil described as intimidating before, but that whisk could be nothing else to me at that moment. I looked at it with more fear inside me than if she had held a pistol. I could deal with a threat on my life, but this was so much more aggressive. In it's demand of congruity, it's absolute requirement for peace, it was disarming. As I watched her hold out the whisk, I felt as if I was looking at someone hand me a nuclear weapon's detonation device. There was no way that it took me any less than hours to respond.
Finally, after eons of that purgatory, I walked into the kitchen and took the whisk from her. Dinah smiled broadly, handing me a bowl of ingredients. I looked from her to Oliver to Bucky, each of them still seemed to be waiting with baited breath. Glancing at the bowl filled with egg, flour and sugar I held against my stomach, I hesitantly put the whisk in the mixture and began to stir. Oliver and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. Dinah just smiled at me. I raised my eyebrows, not really sure how to respond. Oliver and Bucky went back to what they were doing before as Dinah opened the fridge. As she poured herself a glass of orange juice I looked at the tall stack of pancakes that Bucky had already stacked high, yet continued to add to. I looked down at the bowl I was mixing feeling a bit superfluous.
"Do we really need so many pancakes?" I asked.
Oliver laughed to himself. He smiled at me and said, "These are all because of you, Tommy."
"Because of me?" I asked, a touch defensive.
Oliver's smile didn't waver, "That's right. I remember when I was your age, I could eat four plates of pancakes and still be hungry!"
"Ah," I sighed, "what does that have to with me?"
"Well, we needed to make sure you have plenty to eat, son," he chuckled as he turned back to the bacon.
The whisk froze in my hand. I gently placed the bowl on the counter and walked out of the kitchen. I paused by the entry into the hallway and stared at the floor between my feet.
"Tommy-?" Dinah asked.
"I'm not your son," I stated without any emotion. Then I walked into Dinah's room, gently shutting the door behind me.
|FERRIS AIR
|February 21, 20:16 PDT
"-one thousand. Forty nine, one thousand," I muttered to myself, watching the guards pace around the corners of the large building at the airfield. "-one thousand. Fifty, one thousand."
I stared at a McDonald's burger wrapper from my dinner as I leaned against the backpack I had bought at a rest stop in a tree just outside the airfield. The bus stopped at a few rest stops on the way to Santa Monica, one of them I didn't come back from, though I doubt the driver noticed or cared. I had gotten to the air field hours ago, but there were guards everywhere, and without any gear I wasn't going to get past them so I had decided to wait until the facility closed. I found a tree that no one would suspect and made myself a decent place to sit about twenty feet up. There were only a few stragglers, it seemed, left at the facility.
My stomach let out a grumble as I picked a piece of cheese off of the wrapper and put it in my mouth. Though I hate to admit it, Oliver was right. I had eaten six hamburgers and was still hungry. Fast food was world famous for being a last resort for anyone who valued their eating experience. For my first time ever eating it, I'd say it was better than some people give it credit for. I will, however, admit that it wasn't nearly as good as those pancakes smelt. No matter how much I tried to deny it, those pancakes had smelled good. I found myself wishing I had eaten before I left, for not the first time that day. With a sigh I pulled my hood over my head to cover as much of my face as I could.
Finally when it seemed like all who were going to leave had left, and I could wait no longer, I dropped out of the tree. I landed as softly as if I had merely fallen out of bed and snuck the forty feet to the fence that surrounded the premises. Being as silent as I could, I snuck twenty feet along the fence to where a small ditch ran just along the fence, about a foot and a half deep by seven feet wide. The fence had been lowered here to compensate for the ditch. Reaching into my backpack I produced a pair off wire-cutters and a pair of workman's gloves. Quickly I set about cutting a vertical line through the chain link fence.
"-forty six, one thousand. Forty seven, one thousand. Forty eight, one thousand," I silently counted to myself as I worked. "Forty nine, one thousand. Fifty, one thousand."
Instantly I ducked, flattening my whole body into the ditch. I quickly slid off my bag and clutched it to my side. Not a full second after I had fully immersed myself into the ditch, a guard walked around the corner. He proceeded to march along the wall rhythmically.
"-one thousand. Thirty one, one thousand. Thirty two, one thousand," I mouthed inaudibly to myself, "Thirty nine, one thousand. Forty, one thousand-"
When I once more reached fifty, I sat up and continued my work. Before the count of thirty I had cut a line tall enough. Placing the wire cutters in my back pocket, I pushed the fence apart, crawling underneath. Once under the fence, I ran to the nearest building, sliding to a stop just behind a set of dumpsters just as another guard passed by me. After he was gone, I peered out at the airstrip. There weren't too many jet planes out of the hangars, and the ones that were looked like they were under repair. There were plenty of helicopters, but they were too slow. I would be stopped before they got up to speed. Suddenly I spotted a jet on the far side of the airstrip. Instantly I recognized it from the news that morning. It looked to be perfectly functional. It had probably been set out of the hangar for the press to get their pictures that day and was going to be driven inside any moment. It was very sleek looking.
Quickly I dashed over around the helicopters and slowly made my way towards the jets. None of the guards seemed to spot me the entire time. Finally, I made it over to the jets. Hiding behind the plane, I lifted myself inside. I suppose the cockpit would've been claustrophobic if I was an adult, but I fit inside perfectly. I found it rather ironic. Quickly I searched the cockpit for any form of keys, but the more I looked the more it became obvious that I wasn't going to find them in the plane. They must lock up the keys at night. I had suspected this would happen, I guess I was just hoping I'd be lucky.
Taking out the wire-cutters and some commemorative duct-tape, I opened up the panel underneath the control board. After a few moment's tinkering the control panel flashed to life. There were quite a few dials and buttons on the console, but I had gotten a book on jets for the bus trip, so I had a vague understanding of how to drive it. How hard could it be?
"Ooo," I smiled to myself, "a shiny new toy."
Quickly I strapped myself in and set about starting the main engine and getting the turbine to speed. Slowly I drove the plane to the runway. Guards ran around like ants who just got their hill torn up by a shovel. One guy actually tried to stand in front of the jet as I drove it. He soon realized I wasn't going to stop for him and ran out of the way. I could hear the siren go off just before I closed the cockpit. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. Somehow, I was managing it!
"Fastest take off?" I muttered to myself as I flipped the last switches, "Let's just see- whoa!"
I was thrown backwards into the seat as the jet rocketed forward. The runway began to quickly disappear beneath me. It took me a second to regain my composure, but once I had, I quickly took a hold of the... stick. OK, so I skimmed the book. I yanked back on the stick sending the jet flying into the air. In mere moments I had burst through the cloud layer. Flying that jet was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I felt a rush like none other! I was in a state of pure awe. The night sky appeared before me, just for me. The sight of the stars all before me, like tears of a god of light, weeping out of joy for my success. I loved every moment. Nothing else mattered for that moment. It felt as if the entire universe was all there just for me.
For the first time in my life, my mind cleared. It was as if I had left all of my stress and anger on the ground. I couldn't help myself, I smiled like a buffoon. I was just so overcome with pure excitement and happiness. The world it'self seemed to be in agreement. I couldn't explain it, but somehow I felt like everything was right. The Earth itself had wanted me to be there. Somehow, I knew that this was where I belonged.
As I tried to keep the jet straight, it slowly began to tilt to the right, causing me to drift. I tried to fight it, but the stick was too stiff for me to move. Using all of my strength, I pulled the stick to the left, causing the jet to veer left slightly. Then drastically. I had over corrected. Quickly I pulled the stick to center it. Slowly the plane leveled out a bit more, but I was still rocketing upwards much faster than I had ever anticipated.
Gently, I tried to pull back on the throttle, but apparently the throttle worked differently from the planes in my book because instead of slowing down, I shot faster than a bullet upwards. I heard the sound of ripping metal. I could only assume, but I was pretty sure I had lost my landing gear. The g-force was so strong that I could hardly breath. My mind started to get cloudy. I was vaguely aware of a red flashing light.
Then, I noticed myself slowing down. My wits finally returned. I started checking all of the meters, trying to figure out what was wrong. The jet came to a stop, just as I saw the fuel gauge was on E. Unfortunately for me, gravity was still a thing. The jet began to shoot straight downwards. Once more I was thrown back into the seat. I struggled to reach the console, if I could activate the air breaks, I would be able to turn this thing into a glider. The force of the fall forced me back so far that I couldn't even reach the stick. Out of the cockpit window I saw the ground approaching fast. Very fast.
"Curse you Newton!" I shouted as I pushed against the g-forces restraining my body.
In a sudden jolt, the jet started slowing down until it hung in midair. Before I could even react, a green light flowed over everything I saw. It got so bright that I could barely look at it. It was coming from a man. He was flying right in front of the plane. He wore a unitard that cover his whole body apart from his head. His gloves were white while most of the rest of it was black, apart from his abdomen and boots which were green. He had an emblem emblazoned on his chest. It was two parallel horizontal green bars with a green ring connecting the center of them all inside a white circle. The emblem was about the size of his head in the center of his chest. He also wore a green mask that covered from his eyebrows to his cheekbones; the bottom came to a point at the base of his nose. His hair was well trimmed and brown. On his right middle finger was a green ring that was emitting some kind of green solid energy that was holding up the jet.
I sighed, defeated. Green Lantern set the plane down gently and then, using more of his solid energy, made a giant hand that ripped off the windshield from the cockpit.
"Alright, buddy, next time you steal a plane you might want to check to see if it's-" he was cut off mid sentence by the sight of me. "Hold on, you're just a kid!"
"Astute observation, Mr. Holmes," I grumbled.
"What- I mean how'd-" he stammered, clearly struggling with the concept of being plane-jacked by a teenager. "Wait," he muttered, "I know you..."
"I doubt that," I responded.
"Thomas?!" He asked astounded. My spirit instantly fell. "You're Thomas Crane."
"No I'm not," was all I could come up with.
Using his ring once more, he made a construct of scissors that cut through my straps, then he made a hand which pulled me out of the plane and placed me on the ground just in front of him. He pressed two fingers to his right ear.
"Hey, Superman, call off the search. I found Black Canary's son," he said. After a moment he added, "Yeah, I was. You're not going to believe this, but the kid took the plane. No, really. I'm looking right at him. Yeah. Yeah, OK. Yeah, I'm just going to take him back to Ferris Air, tell them to pick him up there. OK, roger that." He turned to me. "You going to make a run for it?"
"Maybe," I glared at him. "You never know."
As a response to my sarcasm, he held out his fist. Before I could react, A green cage formed around me.
"Hey!" I shouted. "What the hell?" I punched the bars, which accomplished nothing.
"You said you were going to run," he smiled.
"It was sarcasm! What kind of idiot would run from a Justice Leaguer?" I asked, pounding on the bars.
"You know, I ask that question a lot," he muttered. "For that matter, what kind of idiot steals a plane and doesn't make sure it's fueled up?"
"Well pardon me for not topping it off!" I growled as I kicked at my cage, "If you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly an experienced pilot."
"And yet, you still tried," he laughed as he made a construct hand to grab the plane and began to fly back to the base.
"I had to do something," I grumbled as I punched the bars again.
"What was that?" He asked.
"I was planning my prison escape," I called up to him. I tried to pry the bars apart to no avail. "You wouldn't happen to have a plastic spork, would you?"
He chuckled, "Sorry, fresh out."
"Figures," I sighed, still hammering at my confinement.
"You know, your mom has half the Justice League out looking for you," he informed me.
I glared at him. "That woman is not my mom."
He raised his eyebrow at my claim, or I assume he did. It was hard to tell with the mask. "Don't try to lie to me, I spent most of my day studying your picture."
"I'm not lying," I insisted. "Dinah Lance is not my mom. She may have given birth to me, but she is in no way my mom. Not in any definition of the term."
Once more he seemed to just look at me for a moment. "Why did you take the plane?" He asked after a moment.
"I wanted to go to the moon and get some cheese," I replied, slamming both fists into the bars.
"Come on, kid. I can't help you if I don't know why you did it," he said.
"Oh, so now you want to help me?" I demanded. "Let me out of this damn cage!"
"You know that will do no good," he educated me.
"I don't care!" I struck the cage with each hit.
"I can make you walk," he warned.
I glared at him, "You'd never do it."
"I wouldn't?" He asked.
"It'd take too long," I told him.
"I've got time," he grinned, "you can start talking, or well, I hope you've got comfortable shoes."
I smirked at him, "I'll call your bluff."
Suddenly the cage disappeared below me. I dropped a few feet before something clamped around my neck, slowly lowering me to the ground. I inspected it to find a metal collar with a chain attached to it leading back to his hand.
"Who said I was bluffing?" He asked.
I glared at him and began walking. It was a long walk, but I wasn't going to let him win.
After about ten minutes he called out to me, "If your feet are getting tired, then you could just start explaining."
"Who's tired?" I called back.
It was cold in the desert at night, but I just pulled my hoodie over myself and grit my teeth.
"If you'd just talk to me then we'd have been there by now," he told me. In response, I flipped him off. He sneered. "If that's how it is-"
Suddenly more chains wrapped around me. I tried to pull on them but they didn't let me move. Looking back, I saw that he had remade the landing gear out of his constructs and chained the plane to me.
"Since you took the jet all this way, it's only fitting you bring it back," he explained. I snarled at him. "That is, unless you just want to talk to me."
He grinned so wide that it looked like his face was going to split in two. In that moment, I hated this man almost as much as I hated Slade. He was so sure that he had beaten me. That he was so brilliant in his defeat of this little punk kid. That I would finally give up and let him put me back in a cage. That I should just be happy to be caged. I was so sick and tired of adults treating me like I should just be grateful. My mother who abandoned me at birth wants me now that it's convenient for her, and I should be grateful. I'm stuck living in an apartment where my bed is a couch, and I should be grateful. I can't get revenge on Slade for ruining my life, and I should be grateful.
I turned away from him, and started pulling on the chains. My sneaker slid in the dirt over and over again. Each time I tried to take a step, I couldn't get any traction. My shoes just kept slipping. I tried to dig in my heels but it did nothing. No matter how hard I tried, the plane wouldn't budge. Sweat poured out from me as I put everything I had into pulling on those chains. Like a mirage, Green Lantern appeared to change in front of me. Slowly his image warped into that of Slade. He laughed at me as I failed to pull the plane. I grit my teeth in anger as I stared at him.
"Slade!" I hissed to myself. "Slade! Slade! Slade!"
The sight of him filled me with a white hot anger. I pulled against the chains with my whole body, throwing my weight forward. I tried to take a step and once more my foot just slipped. I tried to take another and my foot slipped again, this time I fell to my knees. Slade just smiled smugly at me, as if to say, "You're supposed to make me pay, and this is the best you've got? Pathetic." Instantly, though with some trouble because of the chains, I got back up, and pulled again.
"Slade!" I hissed again.
"That's a full fighter jet behind you, you're not going to be able to-" he paused mid sentence.
Slowly the jet began to budge forward as the construct wheels turned. I took one step forward. Then another. I pulled on the chains, no longer caring about the stupid plane. Another step. Sweat soaked every part of my body. I didn't care. I took another step. My lungs burned with each and every breath I took. I began to take another step when my foot slipped. I just barely caught myself. I was about to try for another step when the chains disappeared. I heard the plane fall to the ground behind me.
Green Lantern landed in front of me. "Damn kid..."
"What?" I asked through ragged gasps, "You gonna make me push?"
He looked at me for a moment. "Slade," he remarked, "Slade Wilson? He killed your father, didn't he?"
I glared at him, "What's it to you?"
"I lost my father when I was young too," he told me. "I'm sorry."
"Slade ruined my life," I said. I clenched my fists at my sides. "I'm going to make him pay."
"That why you took the ship?" He asked. I didn't answer him, which in it's own right, was an answer. "What were you going to do with him?"
"I told you, I'm going to make him pay," I insisted.
"How?" He asked.
I glared at him. "Shut up."
"What were you going to do after you make him pay?" He asked.
"I said shut up!" I shouted.
I took a step forward and tried to punch him. He just stepped aside.
"Is this really what you want?" He asked.
"Shut up!" I shouted again. I punched at him again, this time he let me hit him. I hit him right in the center of his chest, on his insignia. He didn't even react.
"Is this what you want?" He asked again.
"Shut up!" I roared. I punched him again. Again it didn't affect him.
"What do you want, Tommy?" He shouted at me.
"I don't know!" I shouted back. I punched him again. "I don't know!"
I punched him over and over again, shouting, "I don't know!" with every hit. Tears mixed in with the sweat and dirt on my face as I continued to punch at him, over and over again. After a few punches, he moved aside, letting my fist take me off balance. I fell forward into the dirt on my hands and knees. I scraped my right knee and both of my hands on the impact, but my pride hurt more than anything else. I ground my fist into the dirt as tears streamed down my face. I place my forehead against the ground, my body broken and weak. I punched the ground in anger.
"I don't know!" I wept. I began just pounding on the ground uncontrollably. "I don't know!"
A pair of strong hands grabbed mine, stopping my assault on the planet Earth. "Tommy!"
I looked up through the dirt, sweat and tears on my face to see a pair of strong brown eyes locked with mine. His suit was gone, in it's place, he wore a pair of jeans with a white undershirt and an aviator's jacket and boots. The name on his lapel read "Jordan, H." He knelt down next to me.
"It's going to be OK, Tommy," he assured me.
"Shut up!" I tried to throw him off, but his grip was strong. "I'm not a child! I don't need you to tell me that!"
"Look at me," he instructed. "Tommy, look at me!" I did. "My name is Hal Jordan, when I was just a little younger than you, I lost my father too."
There was a sadness in his eyes that confirmed his story.
"And the one thing I needed most," he wrapped his arms around me and, despite my constant fighting, pulled me in tight so that my back was to his chest for a crushing hug, "was someone to let me know that it was going to be OK." No matter how hard I tried to stop myself, I couldn't help but weep openly in his arms. "So I'm here, telling you, Tommy, it'll be OK."
"Let me go!" I begged. "Let me go!"
Despite my constant pleading and fighting, he held his grip strong, until finally, I could fight no longer. He cradled my head as I wept in his arms.
"He's gone!" I cried, "He left me here alone!"
"I know..." he muttered.
"I don't know what to do anymore!" I bawled.
"It's OK," he assured me.
I don't know how long I cried in his arms, but not once did he complain or tell me to stop.
|FERRIS AIR
|February 21, 22:34 PDT
I sat in the office of Carol Ferris, the executive something-or-other of the whole facility. Apparently she was working late, as she always did, apparently. She had been pretty pissed at me crashing the plane, and taking it for that matter, but when she saw first, that I was a teenager, and second the sorry state I was in, she spared me most of the rant. Or at least, that's what Hal said. I still felt like she had a pretty good time shouting at me. Though at one point she had called me Hal by accident. Apparently he wasn't the boy scout that I had taken him for upon first meeting him. After she had finished shouting at me, Hal had shown me to the showers where he let me clean myself and he gave me a new set of clothes to wear, including his aviator's jacket. I had refused at first, but he insisted under the guise of "I may have gotten hypothermia from being out in the desert at night covered in sweat." I thought that he was just trying to treat me like a scared child because of what happened. Speaking of which, I was surprised that, by the way she treated me, it seemed that Hal hadn't told Carol about the incident. When we got back to Carol's office she had offered me a couple of pieces of leftover pizza on a paper plate. Gourmet, of course. I thanked her and ate it as she apologized that her microwave wasn't working. I kept glancing at Hal, terrified that at any moment he would just burst into laughter at the little child who had bawled his eyes out.
We all were sitting there in silence waiting for Dinah and Oliver to get there. It didn't take them nearly as long as it should've. Oliver must've ignore a lot of traffic laws.
They both stormed in still wearing the same outfits they had that morning, only now they had on matching scowls. Dinah wasted no time and marched right up to where I was sitting.
"Are you hurt?" She asked.
"No," I answered simply.
"Good," sighed in relief. Then, in an instant, she slapped me across the face. It stung for a second, but I was more surprised than hurt.
"Thank you, Hal," she said, turning to him.
"No problem," Hal nodded.
Turning back to me, she said, "Never do that again."
I glared at her. "You can't stop me."
She looked like she wanted to slap me again, I even flinched instinctively, but to my surprise she didn't. It looked like she was fighting back tears.
"Why, Tommy?" She demanded. "Why?"
"'Why?' what?" I asked. "Why did I run away? Why did I steal the jet? 'Why?' what?"
"Why do you hate me?" She asked.
"I don't hate you," I didn't realize what I said until I had said it.
"Then why did you leave?" She demanded.
I steeled my gaze, "I am going to make Slade pay."
"What?" She asked. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"What the hell do you think it means?" I asked. "He killed my father, Dinah! He ruined my life! I am going to make him pay. I need to, and you can't stop me."
She looked so lost for what to say. She turned to Oliver for help, "Ollie!"
Oliver looked me up and down with emotionless eyes. "You're right. We can't stop you."
"Ollie!" Dinah gasped.
"But, you clearly can't do it alone," he added. I grit my teeth. He was right, and I hated it.
"I have a proposition for you two," Oliver told us.
"A proposition?" I asked.
"We are not making a deal!" Dinah exclaimed.
"Hear him out, Dinah," Hal told her. She sighed but gave Oliver the go ahead.
"Tommy, you will not run away ever again. You will stay with your mother and sister in Star City, attend school and never misbehave."
"And...?" I asked.
"The Justice League has another Team, one for covert ops.," he said.
"Oliver..." Dinah warned.
"You can join under the guise of my new protegee, Speedy," he offered, "there, you will help them on your missions. It will give you the gear and means of getting close to Deathstroke. Then you can bring him to justice, by the book of course." Dinah and I exchanged glances, both clearly considering it. "It'll be a good way for you to take out some your aggression in a positive way, plus I think that you could use some friends."
"I-" I started to protest the last statement but he cut me off.
"I've heard that you're a crack shot with a bow, course I'll have to make sure you're good enough for it to be believable that you're my partner, but it won't be that hard. I don't have a partner at the moment, other than Black Canary of course," he explained. "Dinah, what do you think."
Dinah looked me in the eyes. "You have to swear that you'll never pull a stunt like this again. And you have to have at least all B's in school before you're permitted to go on missions. And you have to train with the Team, and only with the Team. No more of this climbing the fire escape!" She insisted.
They both stood over of me, arms crossed. I thought for a moment. This was my only chance at Slade. This would also get me everything I needed to take him down.
"OK," I nodded.
"You swear to honor this deal?" Oliver asked.
"I swear," I told them.
With a firm stare, he held out his hand to me. Standing up I took it and he smiled at me, "Then it's a deal, Speedy."
AN: I had some real trouble with the transitions of this chapter, which I hope isn't too apparent, but I'm still glad with how it turned out. Anyway, I hope everyone's still enjoying, and as always, thank you for reading.