xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Amoroso (2/4)
A Justice League Unlimited Story
by BillA1
Copyright April 2007
Rating: (PG-13)
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxx
CHAPTER TWO
xxxxxxxxxx
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. - A Midsummer's Night Dream
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
(Baxter Building, Metropolis)
"Lois Lane of the Daily Planet. I want to get a statement from the agent handling Mr. Keel's claim regarding why you don't plan to immediately settle."
The Omiex Insurance Company was located on the fifth floor of the prestigious Baxter Building in downtown Metropolis. Keel had taken his own car to his insurance company while Lois followed in hers. She was surprised when she opened the frosted glass door to find a bustling office with fifteen to twenty people at their desks in cubicles, conducting business.
Lois wasn't sure what she'd expected. Based on Smallville's assertion of possible Intergang connections, she expected the place to be crawling with stereotypical gangster types in dark cheap suits and gum chewing gun molls, but that certainly wasn't the case. The office staff appeared to be professionally dressed and mannered. She was sure that they didn't know she was coming, so she was confident that what she was seeing was not a show being put on for her benefit.
The young receptionist momentarily looked up from her computer screen at Lois' press pass before turning her attention to Keel. "Do you remember your agent's name?" she asked. Lois noted that nameplate on the desk read: Diana Forbes.
"No," Keel answered. "But here's a copy of my policy." He handed Forbes his papers.
"Found it," she said brightly after she entered the policy number in the computer. She smiled again. "Mr. Gambit is your claims agent. Please have a seat over there and he'll be with you in a moment." She pointed to the chairs in a visitor's area in front of her desk.
Lois and Keel had been seated just a few minutes when a man approached and introduced himself. "Mister Keel? I'm Michael Gambit, your claims agent. We've spoken on the phone. First, let me say again how sorry I am for your loss. If you and Mrs. Keel will follow me back to my desk, I'll give you an update on your claim."
Keel's eyes widened. "But she's not -- "
Lois cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "Now, David, let's follow the nice man to his office and hear what he has to say," she said as she followed Gambit back to his cubicle pulling a very puzzled David Keel by the hand.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
(Daily Planet)
She'd gotten him good, Clark thought to himself. But then that was typical Lois and he found that aspect of her personality so endearing. He'd spent much of last hour on the phone interviewing the business owners whose stores had been fire bombed. Their stories had been pretty consistent. A street thug came into the stores claiming to be acting on behalf of his boss, and made a ridiculously low offer to buy the stores. The owners refused and the stores were bombed the following day, putting the owner out of business. The insurance company was slow to settle all the claims.
Clark leaned back in his chair. If Intergang was behind this, why blow up the store? Why not just strong-arm the owner into selling? And if they were using an insurance company as a cover for an extortion racket, didn't extortion work best if you made sure the victim could continue to make payments?
He pursed his lips together in a tight line and looked up the Dunn and Bradstreet file on Omiex Insurance Company. The only answer D&B gave him was that Omiex appeared to be a legitimate, licensed concern with twenty years of service and a superior business rating. It had begun life as a LexCorp company and was one of the many companies Mercy Graves sold off in order to keep LexCorp profitable while Luthor was in jail.
Maybe he was wrong about it being an anagram. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Clark shook his head. Nah, he was certain he had it right. But it wouldn't hurt to check out the crime scene.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
(Sydney)
Mari knew how to handle the over-zealous fans because she had many of them. But, this was different. Flash had a reputation as a harmless flirt, but he didn't seem harmless to her at the moment. Not after he kissed her.
"I hope they don't arrest you," the Flash said.
"Huh?" Mari said as she contemplated the best way to handle the split seam.
She could hide it by keeping her arms close to her side as she walked. No one would know it was damaged until she took it off and then she'd say it happened while she was stepping out of the gown.
She knew it would be professional suicide for her to call a seamstress over to mend the gown while she was still in it. Word would be out all over the world before the end of the night that Mari Jiwe Macabe was too fat to model.
"For stealing my heart," the Flash continued. Mari rolled her eyes, then immediately wished she hadn't because she didn't want it to appear to be a sign of encouragement.
She almost didn't hear the floor manager say, "Thirty seconds, Miss Macabe."
Mari acknowledged the voice with a curt nod. "Flash, I'm ... I'm flattered, but I'm not interested in you in any way other than professionally. Do you understand what I'm saying? We can talk more later, but I have to go to work now." She moved to the stage curtain and waited for her musical cue.
"I bet you like roses. You seem like a rose person. How about if I get you a dozen roses? I know a real nice florist in Central City. I can be back in a minute. Any faster than that and the roses will get damaged."
"Flash! Listen to me. Please stop!"
"You know, 'Fastest Man Alive' is my title, but I can also be real slow when it matters, if you know what I mean."
"That's enough! I want you to stop it! Now!"
Mari placed her fingers on her totem. She'd smack some sense into him if he didn't stop, busted seam or not. Her musical cue started.
"Miss Macabe?" whispered the anxious floor manager.
"Excuse me, but I'm on," she said as icily to Flash as she could.
"Yes, you are. You are so on my heart and in my mind." He grabbed her arm.
"That does it!" She assumed the speed of the cheetah and swung to slap his face. The Flash sidestepped her swing and caught her just before her momentum caused her to fall to the floor. She could hear the rest of the stitches along the side of her gown rip completely out.
She was ruined.
"Look at what you made me do! Will you please just leave me alone!!" she snapped in a voice she'd later read could be heard in the tenth row.
The Flash frowned. "Sure. Just one thing, Vixen. Where am I and why am I here?"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Lois listened as Mr. Gambit explained why his company was slow to make a preliminary offer to settle the claim. They didn't have the fire investigator reports yet. They also didn't have a store inventory listing from Keel, though Keel said he didn't remember being asked for a list. Finally, and Gambit took special care to mention it twice, they needed to wait to be sure that criminal charges wouldn't be filed against Keel negating their responsibility to pay the claim.
"So how long will it take you get all of this stuff sorted out?" Lois asked angrily.
Gambit shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, ma'am. But I want to assure you that we're not sitting on our hands. We have our own investigators working on his claim as well as several others."
Lois inwardly smiled as she asked, "You've had other stores damaged in explosions lately?"
Gambit frowned. "Yes, but that has no influence on your claim." He stood. "I promise we'll settle your claim as soon as we have enough information to do so. It should only be another couple of days." He looked at Lois and said, "I'll walk you both to the door."
He walked them back to the reception area and said, "Again, I'm sorry for your loss."
The receptionist stood as they approached. "A word with you, Mr. Gambit," Forbes said as she pulled him aside.
Lois noticed that whatever Forbes whispered to Gambit made him glare at her and frown. Gambit nodded at the receptionist who returned to her desk as he returned to Lois and Keel. He opened the office door. "Good day, Mr. Keel. Good day, Miss Lane!"
Keel and Lois looked at each other and then they walked out as Gambit closed the door with a loud click.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
This was the last site. Clark stood outside of the remains of David Keel's store.
At the other sites, Clark had used his x-ray vision to see if there was anything unusual in the debris. The problem was that at each site there were several dump trucks being filled with trash and rubble from the destroyed stores, and two had already been cleared entirely. Anything that might have piqued Clark's interest was already loaded on a truck and gone.
Well, not quite. At the site of Keel's store, there was a woman gingerly stepping over the rubble on the ground. She looked to be a little older than Lois, but about her height. She was dressed so casually in a shirt, jeans and leather gloves that Clark at first thought she was part of the clean-up crew. She wore a Gotham Knights baseball cap over her short black hair. Clark did a double take. Her resemblance to Vixen was remarkable. If the woman saw him, she completely ignored him as she dropped to her knees and started to shift through the rubbish as if she was looking for something.
Clark approached. "Can I help you find something?"
She continued gently moving the debris around and didn't look up as she said, "Light. You're standing in my light."
"Oh. Sorry," Clark said as he stepped aside. "I'm Clark Kent with the Daily Planet."
"A reporter? I've no comment. This is private property and I'll ask you to leave." The woman didn't look up.
Clark smiled to himself. "Would you at least tell me the name of the person who is not giving me a comment?"
The woman looked up at Kent and stood. She did not smile. "Smith. Venus Smith, an investigator for Steed International. That's who has no statement for the press. Does that satisfy you, Mr. Kent?"
Clark squatted near her feet. "Not really. I would be more satisfied if you told me what you were looking for."
Smith's eyes narrowed. "Three hundred seventy six dollars and eighty one cents."
Clark chuckled. "That's a pretty exact amount. And you dropped it in this mess?"
"Should be in a blue zippered deposit bag near this desk." She pointed to a twisted and partially melted slab of metal that Clark would never have figured to have been a desk seventy-two hours ago. "Don't expect to recover it intact, but I need proof that it existed."
"Let me help you," Clark said as he knelt down and slid his glasses down his nose a little. Without waiting for her to answer, he moved some trash around in the general area he was kneeling, while he searched the surrounding area with his x-ray vision for anything that could have been money.
He found it about a foot behind where she was standing and about three inches below her. "I'll search over here, why don't you search the area behind you?" he said without looking up at her. She stood over him for a moment, then turned around and started looking in the area Clark suggested.
About a minute later, Smith let out a triumphant "Yes!" She gently scooped the melted bag and its fire damaged contents into a large baggie.
"I think that calls for an interview," Clark said turning toward her, "since I helped you find it. Don't you agree?"
Smith shook her head, stood and frowned. "Not so fast. You answer my questions first, then maybe I'll answer one of yours. What were you doing here?"
Clark stood and said, "Following up on a lead." He smiled. "My turn. Did Omiex hire you to investigate the insurance claim?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You might say that. Have a good day, Mr. Kent." She turned to walk away.
"Wait!" Clark said. He decided to tell her some of what he knew. "I know that Omiex has had to pay on at least four businesses in a two block area that have been firebombed within the last week or so. At first, I thought it was someone trying to ruin four business owners because they wouldn't sell out, but the only common thread that links the businesses together is that they were all insured by Omiex."
She turned back to face him. Her stare was hard. Clark paused, tightened and straightened his tie as he said, "Now some would say that's a coincidence, but I don't believe in coincidence, Miss Smith. Do you?"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
(Metrotower)
"Want another coffee? Donut?" John offered. Crimson Fox and Fire had wandered away from the watch stations, laughing and giggling like school children, leaving John and Diana alone. John was glad when those two left to go to the cafeteria.
He was disappointed that Diana wasn't as quick to encourage him on as Fire had been with Fox. It was as if Diana heard what he said and just ignored him. But John wasn't going to give up because Diana was more important to him than anyone on the planet. He could see that now.
Diana pressed her finger to her ear. She'd been trying to call Shayera over the commlink, but Shayera wouldn't answer. "Why won't she answer up? I hope she's okay." Diana sounded so sad. And if she was unhappy, John was unhappy.
"I'm sure she's fine," John said. He didn't know if Shayera really was, but honestly, at the moment, he didn't care. "You know," he added. "I think the thing which impresses me the most about you is your sheer determination. You just won't quit except when it comes to Bruce. I admire that in you. And I bet you like determination like that in your lovers, too."
Diana's eyes widened. Okay, maybe she was listening to him after all.
He stepped closer and before she could say anything, he added, "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching you. But I'm always watching you. I've made it my business to watch you and know where you're at all the time."
"Lantern, I do like you," she shook her head, "but I don't feel the same way about you that you seem to feel about me." She sighed loudly. "In fact, I'm not sure what I feel any more. About anyone."
"Then let me help you sort your feelings. I'm crazy about you and I think deep down you feel the same way about me.
She looked deep into his eyes. "Lantern?"
"Yes?"
Diana's voice was soft. "You know Shayera as well as anyone, maybe better. Where does she go when she's not on duty?"
John frowned. "Let's not talk about Shayera. She's in the past." He smiled. "And call me John. Please. It would mean a lot to me for you to say my name."
Diana was silent for a moment before giving him a smile John would die for. Then she said, "Does she ever talk about me? Shayera, I mean."
He looked away. Until this moment, he didn't regret his decision to stay with Mari. After all, she'd been the safe choice. She would never question anything he'd do and she was always grateful for any time he'd spend with her.
Yes, Mari was safe. And a safe relationship was what John wanted, what he needed.
Shayera, on the other hand, had always wanted to be, as she put it, a friend and equal. But John finally realized after the Shadow Thief broke his arm that he could never forgive Shayera for breaking his heart. There'd be no place in his life for a 'friend and equal.'
And when he'd told Shayera that he wasn't interested in creating a future with her or the son he'd seen during his time travel adventure with Batman, she knew as well as he she'd have no long-term future with him.
But now there was Diana and she was twice the woman of either Mari or Shayera.
"How would I know?" John snapped. "She rarely talks to me now since I said I was staying with Mari." He shook his head. "Boy, was that a mistake."
"I would imagine that hurt her a lot," Diana said quietly. "I hope she's ready to move on. I mean, into another relationship."
John stared at Diana, then suddenly grasped her hand and looked deep in her eyes. "I don't care about Shayera's relationships or Mari's either. My mistake wasn't dumping Shayera or even letting Mari hang around. My mistake was denying my feelings for you. I'm tired of running from relationship to relationship, when we both have this wonderful thing in front of us."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Lois pulled her car in the Daily Planet parking garage. She'd said goodbye to Keel at the Baxter Building before coming back to the Planet. As she got out of her car, a black 1964 Lincoln Continental pulled up behind her car and blocked her exit.
A big burley man in an ill-fitting dark suit and dark glasses jumped out of the car and approached her. He had his hands up in the air and said, "Miss Lane, get in. The boss wants to see you."
"No," Lois said as she reached in her purse for her can of pepper spray. "I don't do rides in big cars with strange men. You tell your boss, whoever he is, to visit me in my office during business hours if he wants to talk to me. Now move on before I unload this can of spray on you."
The back passenger window of the Continental rolled down and from inside an old man called, "Lane, put the spray down. If I wanted you hurt, Killer would have hurt you before you got out of your car, understand?" He didn't wait for Lois to acknowledge as he continued. "Killer is not just his nickname."
Lois lowered the spray and approached the car, occasionally glancing over toward Killer. As she got closer, the back passenger door opened. Killer rushed to the door and held it as an old man struggled to climb out of the car.
"Walk with me, girlie." He started walking toward the back of the garage, leaning heavily on his cane as he went. Lois followed. Behind them, Killer started up the car, which purred quietly behind them as they walked.
"Lane, do you know who I am?" he asked as she sped up to stay abreast of him.
"No," Lois answered although she suspected. There was a strong family resemblance.
"My name is Manheim. Moxie Manheim. Bruno was my son." He didn't wait to see if Lois recognized his name, but instead continued walking. "I have no use for reporters who aren't on my payroll, but Bruno thought you were a smart dame when you two were captured by the Toyman a couple of years back. Bruno's gone now and I need to see how smart and how tough a cookie you are."
He stopped again and faced Lois. She put her can of pepper spray away. "I'm listening," she answered.
"Then listen good. I am very attached to Omiex. It's a legitimate business - has been for almost twenty years. But someone is trying to shake my company down and I don't go for shakedowns unless I'm the one doing the shaking, understand?"
Lois' narrowed her eyes. "So how are you attached to Omiex? Are you a silent partner? A vocal partner?"
"Not important, Lane!" he snapped. "Here's what's important for you. Omiex is not part of Intergang. Someone started bombing businesses Omiex insured a month ago. They said they would stop if Omiex paid three million dollars. Omiex didn't pay the blackmail and now they've got cash flow problems."
He signaled with his cane and the Continental pulled up alongside him. Killer got out and opened the back passenger door. Manheim turned to Lois. "If you find out who is shaking down Omiex, I want you to let me know before you print the story. I want to have a talk with them."
He stepped toward the car, turned and faced Lois again. "Lane, I'll be very disappointed if you find out before I do and don't tell me about it before you print the story. Are we clear?"
Lois took a deep breath. As Manheim got back into his car, Lois said, "You didn't answer my question. How are you connected to Omiex?" The Lincoln sped away without Manheim answering.
"Hey!" she shouted at the car. "How am I supposed to contact you?"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Listen Kent, this is all off the record. If I see anything I say in print, I will make it my life's work to kick your tail, understand?"
Kent smirked and nodded. "Off the record. I promise."
"There have been seventeen losses for Omiex in the last month across the city," Venus said as she stared into her coffee cup. Kent had suggested they talk over coffee at the diner across the street from Keel's store. "What do you think the statistical odds of that are?"
Kent shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea, but you sound like you don't like the odds."
Venus pushed her cup aside. The late afternoon sunlight poured onto the table through dirty windows, creating long shadows that fell on the floor. "News of insurance company losses makes people look elsewhere for coverage, you know what I mean? They get nervous if they think their insurance company won't be around to pay off."
"No notes," Kent assured her.
She flashed a quick smile. "You know something, Mr. Kent? They call a flock of geese on the ground a gaggle and when that same flock is in the air it's called a skein. But you know what? It doesn't matter whether you kill it on the ground or in the air. A dead goose is a dead goose." She frowned. "And someone is trying to make a dead goose out of Omiex and I have to find out why."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
(A cave outside of Metropolis)
Grodd looked out over the cave from his office on the ledge above. He knew this cave would have been the last place anyone would look for him assuming anyone thought he was still alive. The cave was similar to the one he'd used outside of Gotham years ago when he'd put together the Secret Society.
The white light that embraced him those many months ago was not death, but instead a resident of the planet New Genesis who was on his way home.
"The name is Sollis, but you can call me Lightray," the man said as he snatched Grodd within his energy field at the speed of light. Grodd smiled to himself as he recalled that with a little mental persuasion, he'd convinced Lightray that he'd been captured by pirates who had stolen his ship and thrown him out an airlock.
Under Grodd's influence, Lightray felt that the only way to correct this injustice was to send Grodd back to the swamp on Earth using a boom tube and then go find the pirates who stole the gorilla's ship.
So, while the Justice League was engaged battling Darkseid, Grodd found this empty cave just west of the mountainous road leading to S.T.A.R. Labs. Over the last couple of months, he'd been able to move equipment into it. This new lair would never be as sophisticated as his last two headquarters, but it would be serviceable.
So, while the Justice League was engaged battling Darkseid, Grodd found this empty cave just west of the mountainous road leading to S.T.A.R. Labs. Over the last couple of months, he'd been able to move equipment into it. This new lair would never be as sophisticated as his last two headquarters, but it would be serviceable.
"Do you know if it's working?"
Killer Frost's voice broke his thoughts. Grodd looked at the blue-skinned woman and nodded. He'd found her after he put out a mental call to all those who had been loyal to him during the revolt. Crystal Frost was the only one that responded. She was also the only one still alive.
"It's working very well," he answered. "I sense a great deal of confusion at the Metrotower."
"So when do we attack?"
"We don't, my dear. We don't have sufficient numbers to make it interesting -- yet. Besides, the League will eventually find Toyman's little gift, figure out what it does and destroy it. But they won't know who's behind this plot and that will frustrate and frighten them all the more."
Killer Frost shook her head as Toyman joined her side.
Grodd had been surprised when Frost answered his mental summons and brought Toyman with her. He remembered that the last time he saw them together they were trying to kill one another. Now they couldn't keep their hands off each other. They made such a strange couple that Grodd strongly suspected Toyman had used his special mixture on Killer Frost first.
Grodd grinned as he put his hands behind his back. "The last time I attacked the League with my Secret Society, I made them hate each other. That was easy, but this is far more entertaining. Thanks to the aromatic stimulants of Toyman's chemical potpourri and a little push from my direction, the League is too busy following their desires to even think properly."
Frost nodded as if she really understood. Grodd doubted she did.
"When they finally figure out that what they feel for each other was chemically induced, they will have reason to doubt all of their emotions. And the enemy who doubts itself has already lost the battle."
Toyman clapped his hands together in joy. "All because of my love potion, Mr. Grodd?"
"Because of your potion Toyman," Grodd answered as he tapped his finger on his head, "and this marvelous brain of mine."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
(That evening. The Batcave)
Bruce sat in the Batmobile for a long moment before he finally opened the canopy and got out. He'd kept the Penguin's Iceberg Lounge under surveillance all day, hoping that she'd show up, either in costume or not. At the moment, there was nothing more important to him than to see Selina.
Alfred met him at the computer with tea. As Bruce removed his cowl and sat down, Alfred offered him a cup of the hot brew. "Good evening, Master Bruce."
"Thanks." Bruce took a sip and set the cup down. "I didn't find her, Alfred."
Alfred retrieved the cup and set it back onto the serving tray. "I thought not, sir. Miss Maven called, in response to your inquiry, and said she hasn't heard from Miss Selina since she left for Paris two weeks ago."
Bruce's expression brightened. "Paris? Call the airport. We'll leave for Paris tomorrow morning."
"Very good, sir. But first," Alfred cleared his throat, "you have a visitor."
"Who? Selina?"
"Me." It was Shayera's voice. She floated out of the shadows toward Bruce with her wings fully extended.
"My word," Alfred gasped as Shayera hovered in front of Bruce as naked as the day she was born.
In a throaty voice, Bruce had never heard her use before she said, "I am your tsat. Nugjat Maj! Now!"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx