Take Me Away
By Rosie Real
Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans.
This chapter goes all to that reviewer, lost. I swear I've never smiled so much during a review. You sound like a professional critic!
Chapter Seven: The Perks of Disney World
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Winter slipped steadily into place.
The pessimists grouched and whined over this unwelcome fact.
Jennifer Curse sat stubbornly in a local coffee house, submerged in a vibrantly colored purple couch. She sighed, sinking further into the squashy material and her lurking depression.
On the other hand, the optimists cheered for snow falls and faithfully gossiped over which hills were best for sled riding.
Jenny blinked blearily up, noticing that Wally was sitting next to her. When did that happen? She wondered distantly. She fell back into a daze.
"So I said, 'You're crazy! Belltop is totally the sickest hill for sledding!' Am I right?" Wally said, staring right at her.
Jenny studied him as he continued to talk. Oh, well shit. He's been talking to me, hasn't he? Damn… um. Has he been talking to me for long? She nodded warily, and, to her relief, he was satisfied with her response.
He continued, "And she was all, 'Nu-uh, it's too bumpy,' which isn't true, Terra doesn't know what she's talking about and she exaggerates like no other, but anyway, I told her 'Maybe for you, it's only for the extremists I guess' and she turned about every shade of red which is quite unnerving, she's so pale! It's like, 'God, get a tan!' But really, you make one little comment about her athletic abilities and she goes 70's tv-show-ninja on your ass,"
Jenny stared in slight awe, eyes peering at him, scrutinizing, and mouth hanging open.
He kept going.
And going.
…And going.
Doesn't he need to breathe?? She wondered in alarm. He paused for a moment, breathed quickly as if to continue, and then stopped.
"Hey…Are you okay? You look like you're having an epiphany or something,"
There was a few seconds of silence before Jenny remembered she was supposed to say something hateful and witty. "… … …" She closed her mouth. Crap. Scowling it is.
She scowled, though without much enthusiasm.
A moment later she thought to herself, Ooh! I doubt you even know what epiphany is, you still- in-the-closet waste of space!! …Damn… I'm good.
"And what epiphany have you experienced? My obvious Sex Godliness?" Wally asked, waggling his eyebrows flirtatiously.
She settled back into the safety of the couch. "Hardly," she snipped, knowing it was a lame comeback.
Wally cocked his head, "Are you feeling alright though? You do look a little… paler…"
Her eyes narrowed.
"I mean-! Um, gorgeous-er!"
She was temporarily mollified.
"But really, are you okay?"
She said nothing, staring at the tile floor. Turquoise and bright yellow. Ick.
Wally watched her for a moment, and then his squirrel-like attention span expired and his eyes darted to the window. "Hey, it's snowing again!"
Jenny closed her eyes. Goddamnsonuvabitch! I hate snow! Hate, hate, hate it! Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate-
"Oh, sweet, it's really coming down! Too bad it's Saturday, we'd probably get a snow day if it was Monday-,"
Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate-
"Maybe we'll get snowed in! Or maybe we'll just have to trudge through it all, I love running through lots of snow, it's a real workout, but once you get passed the wet clothes it's a real blast! Aww, you're wearing a skirt, very unpractical you know, but I'm sure -,"
HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE,
"- And maybe you won't even trip! …This once… Oh, awesome, hail! I can't wait to get out there! Maybe it'll snow all tomorrow and then we'll have a snow day! Yes! Ooh, wanna go sledding?"
And with that being excitedly said, Jenny snapped. "NO!" She erupted, "I do NOT want to go sledding with you, you complete air-headed ditz!" She turned her head to face him so fast, he swore he heard a whiplash. "I hate winter and I hate you!"
He flinched, opening his mouth to say something, but she continued tirelessly, "I hate snow! I hate sledding through it, running through it, driving through it, and shoveling it! I absolutely hate waking up in the dark and it's all cold and I don't want to get out of bed but I have to because I need to get into college so I can have a life but I still can't bring myself to care enough-,"
Her eyes started tearing up a bit as her cheeks colored, and all the resentment she had been storing inside her suddenly unleashed hell upon Wally's unsuspecting form, "-And my lips are chapped and my skin is so gross and dry, but god I can't stand lotion!"
And with that being said, she burst into tears.
The entire coffee shop was silent except for the sounds of her quiet weeping. Everyone stared in shock and curiosity at the upset, pink haired girl and the fire haired boy who looked like a perfect mixture of fear, alarm, and hesitation.
"…" Wally's mouth opened and closed, and for the first time in a long time, he had absolutely no idea what to do. Do I leave her alone? Get her some tissues? Call one of her friends?
While he wondered what to do, he thought briefly about how pretty she looked. He stopped backing away from her to pause and think. She might be a somewhat bitchy, Prozac deprived lunatic, but wow she's beautiful right now. …Okay, how sick am I?
While he was currently totally scared of her, his girl-loving tendencies couldn't help but notice that she was a very pretty crier. Few girls could pull it off, and Wally had seen plenty of tear-ridden girls. They were usually a wet mess, with raccoon make up lines down their face and snotty noses.
Yes, an attractive crier was a rare thing indeed.
Her hands were clenched into tight fists, and her usually hard pink eyes were softened with tears and distress. Her cheeks were flushed and slightly rose tinted and she sniffed delicately to prevent unattractive nose-running.
Suddenly, he knew what to do. He walked over without any fear and pulled her into a hug. Unexpectedly, she hugged back, crying into his shirt. Muffled words were wetly spoken into his shirt, and he reluctantly pulled back and asked for her to repeat.
She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I don't hate you," She whimpered, before heading back to his wet shirt. He smiled a little.
"I know," he comforted, "I know, it's okay. Shh," he hushed, as she continued to cry. After a while, he said indifferently, "And just so you know, your skin don't look dry at all,"
"I- I hate l-lotion," she sobbed, sinking further into his arms and he smiled at her antics.
"It's okay, shh," He soothed.
She sniffed, "It's s-so greasy!" she cried into his chest, her voice muffled.
One elderly couple closest to them exchanged raised eyebrows and amused grins. They smiled at Wally reassuringly, the woman looking very impressed with his comforting efforts.
Wally smiled back, and then began rubbing small circles into Jenny's back. "I know, Jen, I know, but it's going to be okay,"
She nodded mutely, sniffing again.
"And your lips don't look chapped either,"
She nodded, "I've been using chap stick," she admitted, sounding very miserable.
He thought about it for a moment, and then decided to just go for it and nuzzled her hair with his cheek. She let him, not even stiffening. Wally smiled, admitting inwardly, I could definitely get used to these mood swings if we make up like this every time.
"Well it's working," he reassured.
She sniffed loudly, wiping her wet eyes on her sweater. Over her shoulder he watched the snow continue to steadily fall and suddenly he bit back laughter. "C'mon, it's stopped hailing. Dry your eyes and I'll show you how winter can be fun,"
She snorted in disbelief but withdrew from his now very damp shirt. She even let him escort her outside, though with a muffled grumble under her breath. The sound was much more like herself, and he felt a wave of relief. But he still kept a strong arm around her, taking full advantage of this sudden ban of that personal space rule she had always been so fond of.
"It'll be fun, love, I promise," he reassured.
"I'm sure-," she began sarcastically, and then stopped, peering up at him with a strange expression. "Wait… did you just call me love?"
He froze, slipping his arm away to defend himself. She stared at him expectedly but vaguely noticed how cold it became without his arm around her.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It just sort of slipped out, I didn't mean to offend you-,"
Jenny giggled a little, "I'm not offended, it's cute," she frowned suddenly. "Hold on, Wally… are you afraid of me?"
Wally smiled widely, "Just a little, do you blame me? You kind of just had a colossal break down five minutes ago,"
She looked a little angry, but suddenly changed her mind and laughed. A blush blossomed on her face and she buried her head in her hands. "Oh god, I'm really sorry… I'm such a basketcase," She peaked out to see his expression. He was grinning.
"Maybe sometimes, but you're my favorite basketcase,"
She rolled her eyes, but settled back into their previous position, taking his arm and replacing it on her shoulders. She hoped dearly that he assumed the blush was still from her previous mental break down.
Luckily, Wally was too busy feeling ridiculously happy because his arm, back on her shoulders, and felt a burst of excitement explode through him at her sudden initiative for affection.
"So where are we going?" she asked as he led her through the park.
"You'll see," he sang jovially, and she rolled her eyes.
"I really hate surprises, you know," she reminded.
"But it's a wonderful surprise, and besides," he added as they turned a corner, "We're here!" He gestured dramatically to a small ice rink, watching her expression.
She looked surprised, and then amused: not the expression he had been expecting.
Suddenly it hit him. He turned to the ice rink, noticing a few things. First, no one was there. Second, it was closed. His face fell.
"Oh, double drat," Jenny said sarcastically, but pleasantly, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Whatever will we do now?"
Wally smiled ruefully, "Well, it would have been fun if it had worked…"
She nodded, "Your lucky streak was bound to catch up on you," she snubbed him, poking his ribs playfully. "You got too confident,"
He nodded, "I have been put in my place," He sighed. "I wonder why it's closed though…" He moved away from her to look at the sign. "They don't even have hours put up!" He exclaimed.
She was cold without his arm around her, but she would never tell him that. Instead, she watched him, noticing something. Even annoyed he still sounds friendly.
She frowned, looking down at the snow covered ground. I'm so mean compared to him. She sighed.
He turned back to her. "Well," he said dramatically, "I'M miffed. How about you?"
"Cold," she muttered without thinking. Oops.
He raised an eyebrow and hurried back to her, wrapping both of his arms around her. "Sorry for leaving you,"
She smiled reluctantly, "You should be,"
"So, why do you hate snow? I recall being cold, dry skin, and chapped lips,"
She snickered. "Well, yeah, that. And it's wet,"
He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "So is rain, and you like rain,"
"No I don't," she lied.
"Yes you do, you said so in English class, when I said it was raining, and you said you wished you could be outside," He smiled at her.
She stared, impressed. "Oh yeah… well, snow's different. It makes you sick,"
"So does rain," he shot back.
She bit her lip to hide a smile. "Okay, I walked right into that one… but rain doesn't give you dry skin or chapped lips!"
"We've already discussed how neither of these plagues has affected you," He reminded, smiling.
"Snow is cold!" she exclaimed, crossly. "It's freezing and rain is warm,"
He watched her carefully, letting her vent, but she stopped. Her hands were on his coat, small, delicate white hands. For such a fiery person, she had a very small frame… that was currently trapped by his arms settled around her waist. Her bright hair was down, over her shoulders and down her back, her bangs hanging over her eyes. Fuchsia eyes… staring right into his expectantly.
He licked his lips absentmindedly, and her gaze turned to his lips. His eyes widened slightly as a lightening bolt of heat suddenly struck him, dead center. Amazing how such little movement from her seemed to have so much effect on him. He thought dryly, I thought girls were supposed to be the ones with the weak knees…
"Snow is cold?" he repeated.
She nodded, "Cold,"
His locked arms around her waist suddenly tightened, and pulled her closer… and then stopped.
"Still cold?" he asked, quietly, not a trace of laughter in his tone.
She shivered, but not from low temperature. "Yes," she murmured, and smiled.
He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her slender frame. She fit perfectly under his chin, with her eyes tilted up to his. For the first time, she was smiling, while he was not.
"Still?" he whispered.
She was positively grinning now. "Yes,"
And his mouth covered hers; trapped in the warmest kiss she had ever received. Jenny closed her eyes, and let his waves of heat rise above her head, and crash over her. She did not try to resurface.
To her immense disappointment, he pulled back. "Okay, just so you know, you and me are going out now, right?"
She licked her lips, "Yes," He smiled and dived down for another kiss, but she pulled back. And, just so you know, it's you and I," she corrected absentmindedly.
He rolled his eyes, "Trust you to ruin the moment with a sarcastic grammar lesson," She grinned at the first eye roll she had ever seen him do, and their lips connected once more.
Suddenly Jenny knew she liked winter. She liked winter a lot.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Winter came and came, bringing its frigid chill and charming pristine frost. It meant a number of things to the students of Jump City High.
The countdown for winter break had begun. Lotion and Chap Stick season had also begun.
And a number of senior students began drinking Pepto-Bismol from the bottle, expecting their early admission college letters any day now.
These appliers included Victor Stone, Roy Harper, Dick Grayson, and Rachel Craven.
There is the indescribable highest high. Victor Stone felt it racing through his veins, felt the need to shout as loud as he could, felt the nearly painful smile spread across his face. Above all, he felt invincible.
Logan grinned at his best friend, knowing the letter contained answer before Victor had said a word. Bethany rubbed her cold hands as they gathered around Victor's mail box, a strained smile on her face and an awful ache in her chest. So goddamn selfish. She chided, trying to dig up some sort of joy for her boyfriend.
Victor was going to MIT, Massachusetts Institute of Technology. His dream college. All the way across the country. Furiously, she told herself to stop it, and rushed over to give Victor a huge congratulatory kiss.
There is the feeling of relief. Dick Grayson felt nothing but relief. All his hard work had finally paid off… he was going to Stanford. Across the table, both seated in the library, Kitty Myers raised an eyebrow of intended bored disinterest, but remained completely frozen.
"…Well?" she demanded finally.
He gave a small smile. "I'm in,"
She smiled back with a surprising amount of warmth, and said nothing more. Dick decided that was enough. Going home, he presented the news to his Uncle Bruce, who had simply nodded, but Dick thought he had seen the smallest smile tugging at the corners of his usual frown… and that also, was enough.
There is the feeling of safety. Rachel held her acceptance letter to Jump City University, placing it carefully on the dining room table for her mother when she got home. This was her safety net… if Azerath College of Art didn't work out; she could always go back to JCU.
There is the indescribable lowest low. For once in his life, Alex Waters had no idea what to say. He glanced helplessly at Wally, who had a hand placed firmly on Roy Harper's shoulder. Roy just shrugged it off, tossing the rejection- isn't there a kinder word? Alex thought desperately- letter away from him.
Alright, Roy sighed. So he wasn't going to Columbia. His father would understand… right? "Guess they were intimidated," he reasoned with a forced grin.
Wally smirked and nodded. "Oh most definitely,"
Alex too smiled and gave a slightly off-pitch chuckle. "Can't blame them, I suppose,"
A strange silence followed, and Roy shook his head slowly. "What…" he paused, swallowed hard and began again, "What am I going to do?" he wondered aloud, his voice cracking mid-sentence. He tried to laugh to laugh it off, but found himself enfolded in the arms of Alex, trapped in a comforting embrace.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Winter pushed onward, the wind-chill increasing by day, throwing icy flakes in students face, and horrible news for Kori Andrews. Ryan Andrews had been expelled from his latest year round boarding school.
It happened on one not-so-special afternoon, Ryan decided, and successfully did, blow up all the toilets of the second floor bathroom. Luckily, as the Dean of his school called it, the bathroom was empty and no injuries occurred. However, the financial expenses of the practical joke appeared tragic enough to make up for the lack of injuries.
At eleven o'clock that night, Kori Andrew's cell phone burst into song, Trans-Siberian Orchestra's Carol of the Bells. Groggily, she lifted her head and fumbled through the darkness to see who was calling her.
Recognizing the number, she quickly answered with a hoarse, "Ryan?"
"Kori, hey," Her fourteen year old brother answered, his voice altered since she last talked to him.
"Um, what's going on?" She asked casually, shaking the sleep off her. Ryan never called unless he was in trouble. She braced herself for the usual acts of destruction he seemed so fond of, and turned on her nightstand lamp.
"…You're not mad?" He asked hesitantly.
She blinked. "Why would I be mad?"
"Oh… Mom and Dad didn't tell you then?"
"They haven't spoken a word to me," She said, her lips pressed together in a straight line. Get ready for it, Kori… "Why? What's going on?"
"I was expelled,"
Kori let out a repressed, but not surprised sigh. Expelled… for the sixth time in four years. Her thoughts were a jumble of reprimands and lectures. Before she could form the sentences, something crossed her mind. Her parents knew, and they hadn't even told her.
Annoyance tugged her and threatened to erupt. She struggled with reason over emotion. Maybe they wanted to wait before telling me about it... I wonder if Becca knows.
She knew the inevitable affirmative answer, and her mouth filled with a bitter taste. "What for this time?" she finally asked. She listened to his tale, trying to hold back groans and occasional giggles. Once he finished, she tried to sort out words in her head, admonishes with a touch of wisdom and faithful advice.
But it was rather late and she hadn't been getting much sleep lately. She settled with, "You shouldn't have done that…" His badly hidden snort on the other end stirred her annoyance again and she added, "You know, you're more likely to come home by simply coming home. Perhaps next time you should leave the dramatics and dangerous pranks out,"
There was an uncomfortable pause, and Kori wished she could be there with him, there to give him a hug, or ruffle his hair like she used to do those four years ago.
"I want to go home," He said quietly, and Kori felt her eyes sting with tears. "I want you to come home too," she whispered, sniffing slightly.
"Aww, sis, don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry, it's going to be okay, really," Ryan consoled, sounded alarmed and guilty. Kori sucked in a huge breath of air, letting it out slowly. "I'll talk to Dad," she promised.
"You say that every time. It doesn't really make a difference,"
"I'll try your theory of dramatics, and go on a hunger strike," She responded coolly, although pleased by the chuckles she got from her brother. After a moment, he said, "Thanks Kori… I'll talk to you soon, okay?"
She smiled tiredly. "As soon as I can. Take care, okay?"
"Very well, oh, and try not to let Becca get to you,"
"Don't be ridiculous, I never do," Kori reassured, seeing Ryan's skeptical glance in her head perfectly. "Really, don't worry about me," she added. They said their goodnights and Kori hung up hesitantly.
Back in the cool darkness, she wondered briefly whether Ryan was better off in the company of his endless circle of misfit friends, entertaining himself with acts of destruction to get the only attention he ever received from his parents…
Or if it was a good idea for him to be home, to be home with unloving parents, a spiteful but flawless older sister, and an imperfect sister who had no strength or will to fight for her dreams, and only love to give.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Dashing through the snow-,"
"I swear to God, Zach-,"
"On a pair of broken skis-,"
"Shut the hell up,"
"O'er the hills we go-,"
"Jesus, give me strength…"
"Bumping into trees! Take it away, Michael!"
CRASH! SLAM! Wham, wham, wham!!
"GAH! Bloody hell, Michael! …Agh, bitch, that effing hurt!"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Wasn't the next part of the song the part where the singer gets the sudden urge to kick a chair out from underneath a person and beat them senseless with their handy-dandy textbook?"
"Hehehe… damnit, no! You… you illegitimate whore,"
"…You did not just call me a bastard prostitute,"
"Oh yes I did. …I'm sorry, did I go too far?"
"There are some lines you just don't cross,"
"Hahaha, yeah…"
"Bastard prostitute," Michael snickered. "Sometimes I love you Zach,"
"But all the other times you'd love to dropkick me straight to hell?"
"Yeah, pretty much,"
"Right back at cha,"
During this entire compelling scene Kori and Rachel watched on the other side of the lab table, trying to hold in laughter, and exchanging looks of bewilderment and amusement.
Zach grinned over at Kori, who broke first and began to laugh, Rachel soon following. Michael smirked and watched his favorite ice princess crumble and be reduced to a shaking, laughing, frighteningly normal teenage girl, clutching her best friend as they talked to each other between laughs in a language he couldn't decipher.
Zach raised an eyebrow, "Um… I didn't catch that,"
After a few moments, influenced greatly by Mr. Watson returning to the room with a steely glare, Rachel calmed, and Kori soon followed, repeating, "You two sound so much like-,"
"If you say a married couple, I'm going to loudly accuse you of sexual assault," Zachary cheerfully threatened.
Kori covered her mouth and giggled. Her green eyes were bright with startling life and amusement. "No, not that, of Rachel and me…"
Rachel nodded, almost regretfully, slowly turning back to her composed form. "Not the idiocy, but the… general banter,"
Kori nodded in agreement, smiling widely. "Aww, Rach, they're best friends,"
Her friend smiled back, eying them with surprising friendliness. "I think you're right," She stared straight at Michael. She suddenly forgot what she was going to say, or whether or not she was going to say anything… Michael had a tendency to do that to her.
She was staring, she realized.
But he was also staring back, studying her sudden blush and change from friendly to shy. She had a nice blush against her pale skin, but her dark hair was his favorite thing about her. She had it up in a painfully tight pony tail. He preferred it down. There was a deep urge to reach over and snatch the elastic band strangling her silky hair.
She looked away first, back to her friend who was playfully teasing Zach who wouldn't admit that Michael was his best friend.
"Guys don't have best friends, Kori, we have bros," He said with great dignity. Kori raised one eyebrow in disbelief, but let it go with a quiet, "Okay, sure…" and went back to finishing the final part of the lab.
Michael watched as Zach tilted his head at Kori, before reaching over and grabbed the arm she wasn't using for writing, and twisting it gently to examine the silver charm bracelet she was wearing on her wrist. She looked up, surprised, but didn't pull back, and eventually went back to writing. Zach looked at each individual charm before discovering her hands and pressed hers against his. It was almost comical, how small her hand was, compared to his. He traced her fingers, looking very curious.
The movement was so casual; it almost didn't seem like flirting, but like the most natural thing in the world. As though Zach always held her hand, it didn't mean a thing, and questioning the almost intimate gesture would make you look like a fool.
Michael was extremely jealous of this strange talent his friend had, knowing that if he reached over to Rachel for any reason at all, it would be overly examined by everyone who saw, by him, and by her, and above all, it would be insanely awkward.
His pale blue eyes met her dark indigo, almost violet eyes. "I've finished it," she told him, and for a moment he was sure she knew exactly what he was thinking, saw though his blank expression saw his envy, and understood completely.
He smiled, "Thanks, you didn't have too,"
She blushed and shrugged. "It's fine," She looked back at Kori, who seemed to have gotten used to Zach's physical contact finally, and was discussing and answer with him for the lab. Rachel glanced back at Michael, and he knew… she was every bit as jealous of her friend, as he was of Zach.
Without another word, she reached behind her head, and released her hair from its confined pony tail, brushing it over her shoulders and back. It was getting longer, passed her shoulders.
He smiled involuntarily, breathing in the sudden unleashed scent of her shampoo.
Her hair was holy.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
On one snowy Thursday, everything changed.
Michael Fires was assigned a new project from Slade.
Michael did not like feeling unprepared. He despised that uncomfortable awkward feeling of not knowing what to say. Needless to say, he didn't typically look forward to meetings with Mr. S. Wilson. He was an unpredictable boss with pleasant, dangerous courtesy and a memorable temper.
…A very memorable temper. Michael remembered this as he put a bit more pressure on the gas pedal, glancing briefly at the dashboard clock. Shit, I'm going to be late.
At that very moment there was a loud smack against the windshield of his dark blue Wrangler Jeep. He jumped in surprise, letting out a string of profanities, and then a grimace of disgust. A bird had blown straight into the windshield, leaving a small crack in the thick glass and a smear of blood mixed with traces of black feathers.
Sonofabitch. You have got to be kidding me.
He glared at the spot, turning his windshield wipers on with a splash of water. "Sick," he muttered, "Damn crow… craven, thing… whatev-," He stopped short, mouth still open. "Raven," he corrected firmly, putting even more pressure on the gas pedal.
He was still late.
"Fuck shit fuck shit damn damnit double damnit… bitch!" He cursed, pacing back and forth across the elevator, chest expanding with anticipation. The elevator doors opened just as his cell phone began to vibrate.
Michael sighed and placed it to his ear, and immediately Slade's voice slid into his head. "Hello, Michael. You are seven minutes late. That gives you four hundred and twenty seconds to think of a reasonable and believable excuse,"
A strange feeling of déjà vu swept over Michael, but he held his tongue.
Slade chuckled. "However, this is the first time this has happened. That is rather impressive actually, considering today's average eighteen year old," The laughter in his voice died. "But I do not hire average eighteen year olds,"
Michael unwillingly winced, picking up speed down the busy but extravagant hallways that were Wayne Incorporated. Slade continued. "If I recall correctly, Fires, when I hired you, you claimed to be honest, responsible, and reliable. While I hardly care of the other two, I trusted your claimed reliability,"
Michael was paling as he approached Slade's office, glancing nervously at his boss's secretary, Ruthie, who nodded at him to go on into the office.
Hesitantly, he knocked hard, three times on the large door.
Slade scowled. "Fortunately for you, Michael, I have a visitor. But if that is not you, at my office door, I will allow you to come by later on. To pick up your things," The dull click signaled the end of the call.
Michael hung up as the office door opened. The aged face of Slade stared back at him, sun glass shielded face emotionless. "Well look who it is," he drawled, sneering slightly.
Michael allowed himself to smile slightly. "Look who it is," he repeated. Without another word exchanged, they retreated into the office, and the pale eighteen year old let out a quiet sigh of relief.
He sat on one of the two leather seats seated in front of Slade's massive metal table that served as his desk. His office was large and without a doubt contained a feeling of power and demanded a proper expression of awe to the visitor. The walls were dark, the windows held a nice high view of the city, but it was not overly furnished with fine items. The largest decoration was an enormous map of the city, but otherwise the walls were very bare.
The room hardly mattered anyway. Slade took up most of the attention. Although Michael was taller than his boss by an inch or so, Slade's personality gave him more height and power Michael could only dream of containing. When he was angry, he seemed massive. His angular face could have once been handsome, but was lined with age and almost haunted with an unfortunate life. Straw colored hair was slicked back neatly on his head, and a single gray eye seemed to see all, every detail.
His other eye was covered with a black eye patch, missing. Michael had no idea why. His lips twitched for a millisecond, remembering Zach's burst of laughter when Michael described his powerful boss.
"An eye patch?" Zach had exclaimed.
Michael smothered his smile. Slade was the only person he knew who could pull it off, and could still look intimidating.
Slade sighed, sinking into his chair, swiveling away from Michael to stare at the window behind him, at the city. The sun was slowly disappearing behind buildings, and the city of daytime glowing gold was slowly turning to the city of nighttime silver and neon lights.
"Michael," Slade spoke suddenly, "What is your job?"
Michael answered quickly, "Strictly influence. Dish out drugs, throw in your name, offer small jobs, get your name in for younger generations…"
Slade was silent.
Michael cleared his throat, "Am I fired?"
His boss chuckled, "No, you've been doing that job very well… too well… it's not very hard for you, is it?"
Michael was a little surprised by the turn of the conversation. His eyebrows furrowed. "Well, I suppose not,"
"Don't be modest, it disgusts me. You're bored,"
Michael's eyes widened. Slade continued, "Have you look at the newspaper lately? I know your generation seems intent on being completely unaware of what's going on in the world,"
Michael briefly thanked God he read the paper every morning. "Well, Jump City Beast's won their basket ball game…"
Slade made an impatient sound. "Oh yes. Go team. No, I was referring to the business section…"
Michael struggled to remember. "Hmm… Oh, Trigon Corporate just came back?" Trigon and Wayne Inc were well known rivals.
"They were bound to come back some day,"
Michael nodded, still unsure of where this was going. "Excuse me, sir, but what is it you'd like me to do?"
"To make things short, Troy Damon, head of the company, is our number one concern. He runs everything, and all other department heads are merely puppets for his ideas and many schemes," Slade finished, voice filled with contempt.
Michael nodded warily. "Sir, what… exactly, does he do?"
"Produces, manufactures, builds… just like we do. He's twisted though. Corrupted. Not afraid to play dirty to get what he wants…" Slade's mouth twisted into a crooked smile. "A little too similar to us. Damon's brilliant too. Well known. Has many friends," Slade stopped to rub his temples with his fingers. "He's a thorn in my side that's quickly becoming more and more irritating,"
The pale haired teenager glanced worryingly at his boss. "Sir?"
Slade snapped out of it. "He had a wife. Arella. Married for six years, and then divorced on grounds of increased differences… the only wife he ever had. In fact," he paused, and Michael's ears prickled with interest, "The only woman he has ever reportedly been with. No high school romances of any sort… just that one girl,"
"Maybe he bats for the other team?"
"Michael, what the hell does that mean?"
"Maybe he's gay?"
"I doubt it. It's a possibility that's being looked into. But for your job, I'll have to explain more. Troy didn't just leave Arella, he left a six year old daughter who now attends your school. Arella now goes by Craven,"
Michael's blood chilled. "Rachel," he said immediately.
Slade smiled, which was becoming a very scary thing to see. "Great, you know her… you aren't, by chance, going out with her?"
"No, I'm not," Michael answered flatly.
"You aren't… um… what was it-batting for the… other street-?"
"No, I'm not gay."
"Once again, great. Can you manage to go out with her? See if you can get anything on Troy. And I mean anything,"
Michael looked away, eyes narrowed, thinking. "Would she get hurt?"
"We don't really care about her right now. Just her father,"
Right now. Michael repeated, and hesitated.
Slade continued, "What do we pay you now, four hundred a week?"
"Yeah,"
"We'll pay you one hundred thousand by the end of this job,"
Michael's jaw dropped. "Seriously?"
"Yes. Seriously. Have fun with it. Sleep with her if you want to," His boss's tone suddenly turned cold, "But find out everything you can about her dad… do we have a deal?" Slade stretched out a hand to shake; gray eye staring intensely into Michael's pondering face.
Slowly Michael reached over and took Slade's hand.
"Alright. I'll do it,"
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Zach, can I ask you something?" Michael asked quietly, as he pretended to study the swiped answer sheet for his Moby Dick exam coming up next period.
"Fo'Shizzle,"
"…Don't ever say that,"
"Sorry. What's up?" Zach asked, trying to balance a pencil on his nose, no homework for once to work on during his study hall period.
"Do you remember… um, long while back, we were talking about our lovely lab partners?"
"Ahh, yes. Disney World," Zach smirked, and Michael grinned slightly. "What about it?"
Michael brushed his snowy white hair out of his eyes. "Well, I've been thinking," He paused, seeing Zach's eyebrows furrow as he removed the pencil from his nose.
"You've been… thinking," Zachary repeated, gold brown eyes staring intently into icy blue ones. Michael made himself keep his gaze steady and straight.
"Yeah, I have," He answered, "I'm starting to warm up to the idea of Disney World…"
Silence.
He continued, "It's such a happy place you know… Mickey and Minnie… and all their little happy friends… colorful and very warm temperatures, kind of like one big acid trip…"
Zach stared, speechless.
"…Okay, no response to humor attempts, are you okay?"
Zach nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I'm fine… but… you know, I'm going to have to-,"
Michael's eyes widen. "Don't. You. Dare."
Zach's smile grew, "Oh but I must…"
"I will rip out your tongue,"
His dark haired friend took a deep breath, and Michael buried his head in his hands. "I… told you so! I told you so! I told you so! I told you so!!" And he then he danced.
Michael slowly shook his head. "The things I put up with…"
Zach continued to dance, oblivious to questioning stares around him, and wondered aloud, "Is she going to come between us?" He teased, as the bell rang. Michael muttered insults under his breath as walked away, inwardly doubting his friend's questionable sanity.
On the way out he heard Zach call, "Bros before hoes, you know! You know you'll always be mine! …What do you mean a detention???"
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Okay, second dedication: To the immortal Harry Potter series.
Great books. (I was such a closet fangirl) I mourn the end, but at the same time, I'm kind of glad it's over though… it was a time-consuming unhealthy obsession… and now the healing can begin.
Review, please. You have no idea how much inspiration it is.
-Rose