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Monroeville, NY. 1709 Hours, 20 SEPTEMBER 1976 R.E.
Golden eyes narrowed in concentration as a pointed finger traced in the sand, detailing bricks into the walls of the mighty fortress that had been built in the box. Grey clouds filled the sky, still too light for rain, and a lazy breeze swept through the overcast day, stirring the loose particles though the packed walls of the castle held fast. The few leaves that still stubbornly clung to the trees were a vibrant mix of red, orange, and yellow, and the boy in the sandbox pulled their fallen brethren, from a pile he had gathered, to plant atop the parapets. He firmly entrenched the vibrant banners, securing them against the gusts that caused them to flutter. Layers of clothes were bundled about his stocky frame and his thick gloves rested upon his thigh as he diligently perfected his craft.
"Icky, it's justa sand castle. Why're y'wastin' yer time onnit?" questioned a similarly attired girl though she was arrayed in feminine hues to contrast his dark tones. She stood at the edge of the sandbox, a tattered backpack precariously hanging by a single strap from her shoulder as she buried her hands in her pockets.
"Ain't a waste'a time," grumbled the boy, glancing back towards her. Teeth jutted from his long, bumpy snout and transparent eyelids shuttered over his gaze as the wind blew across his face. "Not like y'have somethin' bedder t' be doin' an'way, huh?"
"Hmm. Lemme think 'bout it. Well, could be watchin' TV, drawin', goin' with ma t' the store, pickin' my nose . . ." she listed, counting off the suggestions on her fingers. Her brother gave an annoyed rumble and swept his long, rudder-like tail across the sand, sending a wave spraying towards her. Jumping out of the way, she snapped and hissed at him, eyes turning milky as the clear membrane closed over them. Scoffing at her, he was interrupted by a sudden beeping and he looked towards his wrist, pushing up his sleeve to reveal a row of sturdy watches clasped about his scaly forearm. Silencing the alarm of the first with a sigh, he stood and dusted his hands off on his pants before tugging his gloves on.
"S'time," he said as he dropped his sleeve back down. His sister's aggressive stance vanished and her gaze suddenly turned nervous, darting about before landing on an approaching figure across the street, waiting to cross at the intersection. As the scaled boy grunted and picked up the satchel he had left beside her pink boots, she glanced back towards him.
"Y'know, Ick, we really don' hafta do this. I mean, I'll be fine. Got thick skin," she suggested with a weak smile and little chuckle that crumbled away under his stern gaze.
"Ain't anybody 'llowed to pick on m' fam'ly 'cept m' fam'ly," he declared, tweaking the end of her snout and drawing another short hiss from her. "'Sides, y'already tol' th'teachers, n' they ain't doin' anythin'. N' if th' rules won't protect ya, y'need t'take matters inta yer own claws."
His words did little to reassure her and she sunk behind him as their fellow youth approached, studying them curiously. A light jersey was draped over his athletic torso and he wore matching shorts as he carried a duffel bag over his shoulder. Tawny fur covered his toned limbs and the start of his mane was already coming in, a feature that he took endless pride in. Amber eyes flickered towards the boy's bag and his lips quirked into a small smile as a car drove past the playground.
"Nice purse, Thaddeus," he teased. "Your mommy pick that out for you?"
"M'name is Icarus," he answered patiently. "N' act'ally, Alex, yer ma left it at m'place last night after we were done screwin'. Thought y'could return it fer me."
With a snarl, the athlete dropped his bag and extended claws from his fingers as he glared at his peer.
"You wanna say that again, Thaddeus?"
"Icarus. N' what I want is for ya t'stop pickin' on m'sister," he answered evenly, nodding his head back towards the girl who pressed herself against his shoulder as though trying to disappear into it. "N' apol'gize for e'erythin' yah've already done."
Looking past him, the leonine boy gave a smirk, "Hannah! I somehow missed your fatass! How's it going, scaleface?"
She whimpered, ducking her head and huddling closer to her brother who frowned, his eyes flashing towards the sneering boy. He advised, "Y'need t' apol'gize. Now."
"And what're you going to do if I don't, Thaddeus?" he scoffed, stressing the use of his name. "Read me to death? You don't -"
Another watch began to beep and the alligator boy dropped the satchel down his arm, catching the strap in his hand before heaving it and smashing it across Alex's face. He was launched off of his feet and cast heavily to the ground, shock emblazoned on his features before the pain rushed through it. He cried out as the bells of a nearby church began tolling, masking his shouts while Icarus calmly deactivated his alarm and strode towards the fallen boy as his sister looked around anxiously, hovering upon the edge of a panic attack. The final bell tolled as Icarus hauled his sniffling peer to his feet and glared at him.
"With normal traffic patterns, I have twenty-six seconds 'til the next car drives by," he explained. "Y'wanna find out what I can do t' ya in that time?"
Wincing when he tried to speak, the boy settled for merely shaking his head furiously, which brought a new wave of pain. Tears brimmed from his eyes as Icarus gave a satisfied nod and turned his head.
"Hannah, c'mere."
She shuffled forward, keeping her head bowed as she approached and Icarus, shifting his satchel back onto his shoulder, placed a hand on the back of her neck. Looking between the pair, and giving a menacing squeeze to Alex, he said to him, "Now, t' start off, yer gonna apol'gize fer e'erythin' ya e'er done to m'sister."
"S-s-s- I-I'm . . . s-sorry," he managed, new tears brimming at his eyes at the pain as he forced the words out.
"Good," Icarus nodded. "Now, th'next time somebody makes funna m'sister, yer gonna step up. Yer gonna defend her. N' if y'don', we're gonna have 'nother chat, and I'mma shave off all yer fur. At th'least. Clear?"
He sniffed and gave a weak nod and Icarus nodded before clapping him on the back. Striding away from the two, he made his way to the drainage ditch and opened his satchel to dump the heavy rocks he had stored in it back in their rightful place. Striding to the sandbox, he felled his castle with a sweep of his tail and pulled his buried backpack from the sand, hefting it onto his shoulder.
"Let's go, Hanna," he called. "I have homework t'git started on."
"Comin'!" she called before looking back towards Alex. She winced at the bruise she could see forming under his fur and reached out to touch it before pulling her hand back, thankful that her scales gave no sign of her embarrassment. Her eyes brightened suddenly and she swung her backpack off her shoulder, opening it to pull out her lunchbox. Retrieving the ice pack from it, she passed it to Alex and whispered, "Sorry."
"Hannah!"
"I said that I'm comin'!" she snapped as she closed up her backpack. She took a final, shy glance towards the befuddled Alex before dashing towards her waiting brother who watched her approach before looking back to the leonine boy.
"When ya git asked how y'received the bruise, yer gonna tell'em it was durin' practice," he instructed and the furred boy nodded numbly as he pressed the cold pack to the side of his face. Content with the situation, Icarus turned and began to stroll down the sidewalk as Hannah raced to catch up with him. She gave a quick look backwards to see Alex picking up his duffel bag before turning her gaze upon her brother.
"How do ya know he ain't gonna tell nobody?"
"Y'mean 'anybody.' Anyway, first off, he's dumb. He don' believe in bein' a tattletail. Two, he's scared. Like he should be."
"I still think y'went o'erboard."
"Eh," he shrugged. "At least now I have somebody lookin' after you. Maybe I'll act'ally be able to git sum work done if I don' have t' always be watchin' yer tail."
"Wait. Is that the real reason that y'did all that stuff?"
"Course," he scoffed, sniffing and pointedly avoiding eye contact. "I have better thin's t' do than look after ya, swamp breath. Figgered I might as well get manip'lative n' find somebody else to take care o' ya."
She studied him and a slow smiled bloomed across her snout. Bouncing forward, she wrapped him in a tight hug that he squirmed against before relenting with a sigh. He ducked his head, waiting for her to finish until his patience grew thin and he slipped from her grasp, glaring at her as her smile only seemed to brighten further.
"Yer a good brother, Icky," she teased. "No matter what e'erybody else says."
"Who's 'e'erybody else?'" he demanded, eyes narrowing. Hannah giggled before she took off down the sidewalk, surprising Icarus who quickly shook himself from his stupor and charged after her. "Hey! Hannah! Whattaya mean by 'e'erybody else?!'"
Integrity Financial Services, Jump City. 1036 Hours, 17 AUGUST 2014
"So, any word on the condition of the dudes in the accident?" Beast Boy asked casually as he leapt behind one of the tables, evading the shotgun blast that vaporized the corner of the barrier. Before a another shot could be fired, a sonic blast launched the man from his feet and into the wall of a cubicle before he slumped to the floor, groaning as he laid there.
"I haven't heard one yet," Cyborg reported as he stomped upon the barrel of the firearm, breaking it. "Sounded like things were pretty dicey with the girl though."
"Wish there was something we could do to help," muttered the shape shifter as he pounced from his cover to tackle one of the masked gunmen that had decided they could rob a bank before any of the authorities could arrive. Unfortunately for them, said bank happened to be in close proximity to the preferred gaming store of the Titan boys and Robin's suspicions had been piqued the minute he saw the nondescript van idling outside the bank.
"Any chance you two could leave this conversation for after we finish this up?" grunted their leader, jamming his staff into the throat of a foe before sweeping his legs out from underneath him. He spun, launching several birdarangs that pinned another man to the wall even as he tried to steady his aim.
"Dude, I could take out these guys. On my own. Asleep," Beast Boy scoffed with a derisive snort as he snapped a glare to a gawky member of the crew and unleashed a menacing snarl. The young man dropped his awkwardly clutched weapon, held up his hands, and obediently sat down in a nearby chair. With a chuckle, the green boy pointed out, "I mean, did you see that one teller chick? She took out one of them on her own."
"Right, and what happens every single time we start getting overconfident?" he chided, dodging a pistol blast and bounding off a wall to smash his leg across an adversary's face, dropping him to the ground.
"We get stomped," Cyborg grumbled as he led the patrons, those who had not made their escape when the Titans first entered, to safety. "Hard."
As the Titans continued their squabble, a fretful pair of teal eyes peered over the teller's counter before immediately ducking back behind it.
"Crap. Ohhh, crap. Crap, crap, crappity-crap, crap crap -"
"Loomis, y'know you sound a fuckin' pussy whenever you talk like that, right?" grunted the burly man tucked beside his frantic comrade, his tone almost conversation as he kept a hand upon a pair of filled duffel bags at his side. "You're daughter's not here. You're allowed to swear."
"B-but, it's the Titans! I mean, the Teen Titans," cried the lithe man, wiry fingers clenching in short brown hair. "We're doomed. Doomed. They're gonna catch us and lock us up and Mel's gonna be so angry at me and gonna go on the whole Hillary-growing-up-without-a-dad rant and - unff!"
A quick cuff to the back of his head silenced Loomis and he rubbed the spot as he turned a hurt look towards the thick man who rolled his eyes. Pausing to listen for the continuing sounds of combat and unabated chatter of Beast Boy, the leader of the crew shoved a finger in his accomplice's face and growled, "Loomis, I didn' bring you in on this job so that'cha could hide and piss your pants when things got hairy. Now, git out there, and do what'cha were hired to do."
Taking a tentative glance over the counter again, Loomis made a plaintive whining sound in his throat before casting a pleading glance to his bulky comrade. Finding no sympathy in the hard gaze that met his evenly, he sighed and lifted himself over the counter, landing upon the other side of it and surprising the Titans. He rubbed his forearm anxiously as their gazes converged upon him, the rest of their foes felled and the civilians rescued. His gaze flickered along the others he had been employed alongside and panic surged through him once again though he realized it was too late for him to flee.
"So, uh, is this a surrender?" Beast Boy asked.
Steeling his nerves, Loomis clenched his eyes shut, drawing in deep breaths as he shook his head, "N-not quite."
His eyes snapped open in time to watch the floor stretch away from him and he was struck with a brief sense of vertigo. Boots split and clothes shredded, revealing the specialized bodysuit that had been hidden beneath them. It left his long arms bared and descended to his knees, geometric black lines breaking up the white of the suit. He flexed his newly elongated limbs, familiar with the flashes of pain that spiraled through them after a shift before he took a heavy, menacing step forward, causing cracks to spread from beneath his giant footfall. Inches were left between his head and the ceiling and he looked down upon the Teen Titans as his fingers, emboldened by the sudden shift in dynamics, curled into fists that were as large as Cyborg's torso.
"I think that's a little bit more than 'not quite,'" pointed out the changeling before dodging the fist that smashed against the floor, scattering the heroes.
As Robin pushed himself to his feet, he glimpsed a dark figure carrying a pair of filled duffel bags over his shoulders duck towards the back exit. His eyes narrowed from behind his mask and he sprang forward, darting past the giant as he called back to his friends.
"Handle this guy!"
"What?! Get back here, you spiky-headed, lil' - whoa!"
Cyborg ducked beneath the fist that arced through the air, missing his head by inches and slamming into the wall of a cubicle, sending it flying into its brethren. Standing up, the youth narrowed his eye as he armed his sonic cannon, grumbling, "All right, big fella, why don't you try this on for size?"
The blast slammed into Loomis' chest and he grunted as the force of it pushed him backward only to scoop one of the tables into his grip and hurl it at the hero who rolled out of the way before unleashing another blast. Catching it in the palm of his hand, Loomis failed to notice the green eagle streaking towards him only its claws were searing along his forehead. He gave a bellow and swatted at the avian who dropped towards the ground, landing nimbly alongside Cyborg as he shifted back into his customary form.
"Dude, I didn't even break the skin," he muttered. "We're gonna need something bigger."
"Not in here," Cyborg answered as their foe finished checking his palm for blood. "We need to force him outside."
"One sheep dog-or-whatever-else-works coming up," he said without much enthusiasm, flashing him a thumbs up before they both dodged away from the foot that slammed upon the floor.
Robin found himself in a neglected alley as he burst from the rear door, glancing to both sides and ducking the crowbar swung at his head. Glass shattered at the impact and he threw out a kick, catching his assailant in the stomach and drawing a grunt from the larger man who, nevertheless, did not budge. Pushing away, Robin drew a pair of birdarangs as he stared down the barrel-chested robber, mask removed to reveal stony features that were twisted into a scowl of irritation.
"Y'sure you really wanna go, boss?" he grumbled, jerking his head towards the bank as he laid the crowbar across a shoulder. "Pretty gutsy of you to be ditchin' your friends like that."
"They can handle your giant," he answered, full conviction in his tone. "He's big, but he's unskilled."
The man nodded with a sigh, "Yah. Loomis ain't much for a fight, but he's usually a pretty good distraction. Guess not good enough though, huh?"
"Nope," he answered, giving a small shake of his head. "Now, I don't suppose I could interest you in coming quietly, could I?"
A crude smile bloomed on the craggy face and he shook his head as he chuckled, "'Naw, boss. Can't go makin' this too easy on you, now can I?"
"Oh, this is going to be easy," he smirked. "My way just involved you spending less time in the hospital."
Before the thief could offer a retort, the birdarangs were arcing through the air towards him, but he reacted with surprising speed, hooking his crowbar in the handle of a trashcan and tossing it before himself as a shield. Sliding from his original position, he anticipated the leaping boy that followed the projectiles and he stepped on the staff that struck the ground where he had been standing, pinning it there as he swung his weapon like a baseball bat. His foot suddenly slipped as the bo staff telescoped into its smaller size and Robin blocked the blow though the force of it still sent him into the brick wall. He recovered in time to evade the boot aimed at his knee, and, sliding the second staff from his belt, he struck across his adversary's back who merely grunted before swinging backwards with the crowbar.
"Bo staff, escrima sticks, whatever you wanna call your shuriken things," the man said as he turned and tapped his weapon in his palm. "Gonna need more than that to take on me and Sheryl here, boss."
"We'll see about that," Robin responded with an eager smile spreading across his face.
Within the bank, Cyborg blasted a desk out of midair before delivering another shot that impacted along Loomis' jaw, throwing the gargantuan off balance. A falcon dove towards the man, shifting into a rhino seconds before impact and managing to throw him to the floor. Before Beast Boy could dart away, fingers curled about his form and hauled him upward, bringing him to eye level with the criminal who growled in thunderous tones.
"KNOCK. THAT. OFF."
"Has anybody ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?" he asked hopefully, attempting to assuage the man who merely grunted and hurled him at Cyborg.
"Grass stain, shift!" he yelled and the massive frame of the rhino was replaced with a protectively curled armadillo. The force was still enough to launch him from his feet and into the teller's counter, where he had managed to maneuver, but he emerged with only a small grunt as he dropped his friend to the floor. "You couldn't have picked something softer?"
"Hey, just be happy that I didn't turn into a porcupine again," he countered as he morphed into a humanoid.
"Small wonders. Speakin' of which, look out."
They both leapt out of the way of the desk launched at them as Loomis lurched upward, drawing himself to his full height and squaring his shoulders. He gave a low snarl and stomped towards the shape shifter who adopted the form of a tiger and pounced out of the way. Perching atop a pile of desks, he waved a paw in front of his face and said, "Pew-eew. Extra-size feet equals extra-size stink. And all this stomping around through everything is definitely not helping."
"SHADDUP."
Flowing into a snake, he curled around the fist that smashed towards him and twisted upward, sliding upward. Fear flashed through Loomis' eyes but before he could remove the anaconda coiling towards his head, a sonic blast threw him backwards. He stumbled back into the wall of the bank's entrance, which shuddered under the impact. Another blast, this one aimed at the structure, accompanied by a charging pachycephalosaurus was enough to weaken the structure and allow Loomis' bulk to spill out into the street. The police that had arrived upon the scene backed away at the sight of the giant, only mildly assuaged by the presence of the two Titans.
On the other side of the bank, the third member of their diminished party narrowly evaded a swing of the crowbar only for it to suddenly dip down and hook about his ankle. Landing heavily upon the ground, his fall fortunately cushioned by the refuse clogging the alley though he still lost his grip upon one of his shortened staves, he rolled out of the way as the crude weapon came down again. Rolling to his feet, he was caught off guard by a trash can being flung at him though he managed to catch it only for the man to shoulder into it and drive him into a wall, pushing the breath from his lungs. Dropping the silvery can, he picked up the lid that had rattled off of it and ducked behind it, throwing back several feet as the crowbar clanged against it though unharmed.
"What'cha thinkin', boss?" chortled his foe. "Y'suddenly think you're the Guardian or something? 'Cause, lemme say, you don't quite measure up."
"We'll see about that," he returned evenly, crouching behind his shield.
"Guess we will," he said with a small smile and nod before springing forward with surprising speed. Robin remained rooted in his position, eyes narrowing at the nearing man before he pressed the button upon his staff, causing it to expand. Pressed against the back of the garbage can, it sent it hurtling forward into the surprised man's face, throwing him back. Seizing the opportunity, the young hero fired at him, sweeping up his other staff as he shortened the first and stabbed both of them towards the man's ribcage who grunted at the impact before snarling and swiping at him.
"That was a pretty slick move there, boss," he acknowledged. "Lessee how much your lil' toys help out."
In place of a response, the teenager sprang forward, extending one rod to push off the lid of the dumpster, sending him arcing over his foe. He twisted in the air, landing upon the man's back as he pressed his weapons against the man's throat and leaned back, cutting off his breath. The thief gasped but reacted quickly, throwing himself back against the dumpster with vicious force, attempting to dislodge the youth. Wild swings of the crowbar reached over his back, but the boy nimbly dodged them before suddenly pushing upward, performing a headstand upon the elder man. His throat free of any pressure, he looked up in time to see the knee descending towards him, crunching into his nose and sending him into the darkness of unconsciousness as Robin suddenly dropped. Catching himself before he hit the ground, the hero sprang away as his foe crumpled to the ground and he remained poised for a moment, waiting to see if the man was playing possum.
Once certain that he was not, the dark-haired youth breathed a sigh of relief and allowed himself a brief moment of relaxation before a roar echoed from the street. Taking a moment to secure a pair of cuffs on the downed man, he raced through the alleys, staves at the ready, and leapt to the sidewalk. He was greeted with the scene of a verdant spinosaurus snarling at a giant man as Cyborg, for once the smallest of the figures, perched atop the dinosaur's head, both arms reconfigured into his sonic cannons.
"Boo-yah!" he shouted excitedly at the increasingly uncertain giant who was taking cautious steps backwards.
"Umm . . . So, about that 'surrender' you guys mentioned earlier - is it too late to opt for that?"
Jump City Memorial Hospital. 1152 Hours, 17 AUGUST 2014
As the largest hospital within Jump City, the Memorial Hospital was kept regularly busy, especially with the results of the battles amongst the local heroes and villains. While many complained about the regular influx of new patients, there was an unspoken gratefulness that the Teen Titans were about to keep the casualties of some of the rampages to a minimum. There were more benign cases, at least in comparison to how the injuries were received, as well as more stereotypical check-ins that ensured their lobbies were usually full. This morning, a rather prominent, if not widely recognized, visitor paced anxiously within the waiting room.
Daniel Cornell was a skinny, middle-aged man with wireframe spectacles and thinning hair who struggled to find a suit that was fitted for his lanky frame. His infamous eating habits meant that what suits he did wear often bore the stain of his meals, contributing to the slovenly appearance accentuated by his poorly knotted tie that he pulled at whenever agitated or in deep thought. Battered, thick-soled loafers adorned his feet, worn from the ages but he refused to replace any footwear that still functioned. The pacing he assumed across the hospital's waiting room seemed to assure that he would soon be in the market for new shoes.
With his daughter in surgery and wife currently resting after their car crash, he was left to fume at the blocky man and woman squeezed into the chairs in the otherwise, wisely, unoccupied row. Mr. Cornell moved with frenetic, jerky motions, knobby hands reaching up to periodically tug at his tie. Mustard stains decorated his jacket and a damp spot remained on his thigh from where he had spilled his wine after hearing of the accident. The circles under his cold, brown eyes were deeper than usual and he spat out his words in a savage snarl.
"-tell me I can't see my little girl! I've got every right to see her! They can't do this to ME!"
"Yessir," the hawk-faced man nodded accommodatingly.
"Do they have any idea exactly who I am? Just what I could do to them?!"
"Clearly not, sir," said the square-shouldered woman
Soon, anger gave way to concern and worry though his movements remained short and quick, like a marionette whose strings were pulled by an amateur who had yet to learn how to make the motions appear smooth. By now, the tie's knot, a generous term at this point, had descended to slightly above his sternum from his nervous idiosyncrasies. His teeth grated together and he cast frequent glances towards the clock, certain at several points that its hands had stopped moving as the minutes seemed to drag by. His accompanying duo waited stoically, maintaining their bleak expressions that discouraged any trespassers upon their territory that had not already been deterred by their employer's ranting.
His tirade was finally interrupted by a nurse informing him that his wife was ready for visitors, and he was already striding from the room before she could finish. The powerfully built man and woman fired from their seats, only catching up to him at the first intersection where he wavered, thrusting his heads towards the possible avenues before loping down the left passage. Age and the sporadic twitches seemed to shed from his slovenly form as his legs stretched into strides that forced his comrades into a light jog to keep pace with him. He seemed snake-like as he wove through the hall's traffic, easily threading the space between conversing pairs that slowed his watchers.
Finally, he darted into a room, startling a man depositing a used needle into the disposal container upon the wall, a tube of blood in his other hand. Mr. Cornell blanched at the sight of it before his gaze snapped towards the plump, curly-haired woman who accepted his sudden appearance with a tired nod. Pudgy arms lay atop the thick blanket draped over her, a fresh bandage applied to the crook of her elbow while an IV fed into the other. She gave a weary smile at the sight of him and he broke into a relieved grin before flitting to the side of her bed, worriedly inspecting her as she chuckled and patted his bony hand.
"Calm down, Danny. I'm all right. They just took some of my blood to check for internal bleeding. The -"
"Internal wha - Gerty!"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," she said as she took in his disheveled state with blatant disapproval that did not go unnoticed. He cleared his throat and attempted to fix his tie as she continued, "Certainly in better shape than you, dear. I mean, that smell - dear Lord. Please don't tell me you stayed the night."
His lips twisted as he shifted his gaze to the left and muttered, "Not the whole night."
Gertrude Cornell dropped her eyes with a sigh and then looked towards the broad-shouldered figures in the doorway. She repeated the action before glaring at her husband who shrunk under her harsh gaze. "Lemme guess - you kept them here all night as well."
"It wasn't the whole-"
"Dearies, go grab me a cup of coffee. From somewhere worth getting coffee from. And get yourselves something, too. You both look like you need to eat," she directed the pair with a matronly air, overriding her husband's response. They shared a glance, uninterested in disputing her erroneous remark before nodding simultaneously, expertly hiding their smiles.
"Yes, mum," they responded before disappearing.
Mr. Cornell scowled, "I wish you'd stop coddling them like that."
"Bah," she barked. "Half the reason they're so loyal to you is the fact that I'm such a sweetheart to them. Now, where's Benjie?"
"With your mom. Some of the boys are keeping an eye on them. Heard anything about Tilda?"
"The nurses tell me what they can. She'll pull through," she promised, patting his hand reassuringly. "It's a good thing the Teen Titans were there."
He snorted contemptuously, "Those little brats. I swear, if they -"
"Oh, hush, Danny," she said. "Those dearies saved my life and our daughter's life. You should be grateful."
"Kind of hard to be grateful to the half-pints that are probably going to be why I end up behind bars," he grumbled.
"Only if you do something stupid," she smirked. He did not share in her mirth and his eyes drifted to the side, causing her own smile to falter. "Danny?"
"I -"
"Oh, graze a Dio. When I heard about the crash, and after what had happened to Signore Garcia, I couldn't help but be worried worried. I barely slept. You can ask Cash," Alondra gushed as she breezed into the room, attired in long, white sundress with a wide-brimmed hat to match. Storming after her was her pet brute, stubbornly wearing his cap as he ducked through the doorway, nodding in confirmation of her claim.
"Sedulous scrutiny assures she passed the crepuscule and onward in persistent turbulence," he grunted. Too-blue eyes glanced about the room, scouring it for any threats before he moved to stand at the door, nearly filling it. Alondra flowed to the foot of Mrs. Cornell's bed, wearing a smiling mask of relief and sympathy that fooled neither of the couple. Mr. Cornell hovered protectively at his wife's side, glancing between the two intruders. Sliding the chart from its hook, the lean woman hummed to herself as she scanned through it, flipping through the pages before nodding contentedly and lowering it.
"Le mie scuse," she bowed her head slightly. "I am glad to see you are well, Mrs. Cornell."
"You and me both, dearie," she responded with a hearty smile, ready to play the willowy woman's game.
She giggled, a disarming sound before her face straightened and she asked, "And your daughter? La vostra bambina? I had heard she was in the car as well."
"She'll be fine," Mrs. Cornell assured her.
Alondra breathed a sigh of relief, one that seemed almost sincere, and gave a swift prayer beneath her breath, crossing herself before she looked up and then beamed at them. "Good. Good. I saw some of the footage and it looked so horrific. What a terrible accident. Thank goodness the Titans were there to help."
"Trust me, dearie, I don't think they'll be making an amusement park ride out of it any time soon."
"Well, it's good that you can keep up a sense of humor about it," the brunette smiled before glancing the clock. She sighed and returned the board to its hook, "Unfortunately, there is business I must tend to. I just wanted to drop in to make sure you were doing all right."
"That was sweet of you. Hope you have a nice day, dearie," Mrs. Cornell returned the bright smile.
"You too. Get better soon, okay? Ciao," she said as she left the room, pushing Cash into the hallway. The couple watched them disappear, waiting for the heavy thuds of the bodyguard's feet to fade away before the thin man turned to his wife.
"We need to get rid of her. Yesterday," he spat, anger putting more volume into his voice than he intended though he did manage to catch himself at his wife's reproachful glare. Her expression had lost its friendly disguise and her lips were set in a broad, flat line. Not completely cowed by her stare, he muttered, "She had to be the one behind it. I don't know how she figured it out, but it had to be one of her cronies that-"
"Absolutely. She had someone sabotage a car that Jonathan never left," she pointed out, referencing their driver.
"He probably fell asleep when he should have been on lookout."
"You know Jonathan better than that. After all, that's why you gave him the job," she chided. "Now, we're going to get me out of here. Then, we're going to make sure our daughter is fine. Then, once she and our darling Benjamin are safe and secure, we're going to figure out what cards the Vulture's hiding in her pushup bra."
Several floors down, the woman in question led the march from the hospital, striding confidently through the halls as personnel and visitors alike scurried out of her way. At her heels, Cash's rough boots crashed along the floor, and his uneven countenance may have lent to the haste in which a pathway formed before her. Exiting from the front of the hospital, they made their way towards a sleek, white limo that was stubbornly parked close to the entrance, effectively blocking off a lane. Out of range of any ears to catch his floating words, Cash shuffled after his employer and grumbled, "My most profound penitence, boss babe. I -"
"Relax, Cashy. We all make mistakes," she said, her gaze and voice distant as though focused on something other than the world before her. Giving a slight shake of her head to clear the phantoms that haunted it, she remarked, "Besides, you've apologized enough now that I think I've learned all the synonyms for 'sorry.' Also, this presents us with a new oportunidad."
"Which is?"
"A chance to turn a rival into an employee," she grinned, an expression that constantly hovered between cruel and teasing on her face, though her longtime companion could tell that it was forced. Ignoring his questioning gaze, she pushed onward, "Can you access the medical logs?"
There was a confident scoff as he opened the rear door for her and she rolled her eyes as she slid into the back seat.
"Por supuesto. Deberia haberlo imaginado. Figure out how their figlia is actually doing. There is something else I must look into," she instructed as he joined her and the car groaned at the new weight.
"Affirmative, boss babe. Shall I proceed with the annihilation of the remaining apostates?"
Her eyes narrowed as she considered his eager suggestion before she nodded bringing a broad smile to his face.
"Ye - no. No. Just . . . hold on for a little bit. I . . ." she faltered as she leaned against her seat, letting her head drop back as she closed her eyes. Cash looked towards her, worry etched into his rough visage and he lurched forward as the car began to pull from the parking lot, landing roughly in the seat beside her. She grunted as she felt the seat shift and she let her head slide along it to land upon his shoulder, further skewing the hat upon her head.
"Boss babe?"
"M'fine," she mumbled though she refused to move from where she rested against him. She took a deep, shuddery breath and instructed, "Just have Luca find me a place that serves liquor with breakfast. They haven't restocked my bottles in here yet, and I need fortification for this business."
Titans Tower. 1255 Hours, 17 AUGUST 2014
The Teen Titans had been jolted back into their regular dynamic at some point between last night's dinner and the subsequent accident. Robin had put them through training this morning with shouts that would have made a drill sergeant's eyes tear up with pride. Beast Boy and Cyborg conducted the ritualistic argument at breakfast in regard to processed meat, and conversation had flowed easily amongst them. Afterwards, the genius mechanic had descended to the garage to see if he could salvage his Baby while the changeling decided to outdo all his high scores on their collection of video games. As Starfire went to her garden and Robin reviewed open case files that the police shared with them, Raven remained at the table, finishing her tea as she braced herself for what was to come.
After placing her mug in the sink, she drifted to the couch and after a brief hesitation, settled alongside the green boy who did not appear particularly surprised. Neither of them spoke and Raven watched the gigantic television screen as Beast Boy started his game, opening up to a man speaking with a woman attired in armor that, with the expansive area of uncovered flesh, could not have been entirely functional. She arched a brow at the lush, carefully rendered figure and she could feel the embarrassment bypass his usual barriers. He quickly steered his character away from the liberally clad woman and set off down a cobbled road.
"Wonderful graphics," she observed dryly.
"The game's story is really good," he muttered.
"I'm sure," she arched a brow. She lowered it a second later and focused upon her hands, letting the silence drag on for a moment. After a moment, she broke it, "There was something I wanted to ask you. Wh-"
"Look, Rae, I swear on my collection of Monty Python tapes and whatever else you shove in front of me that you are, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen. You -"
With blazing cheeks, she interjected, "That-that wasn't what I was talking about."
"-I mean, Wonder Woman and Power Girl are kinda hard to compete with, but you're still, well, y'know, gro- say what now?"
"I wanted to ask you about that time we encountered Phobos and Deimos," she clarified, thankful for the cover provided by her hood.
"Right. Of course," he muttered. "Let me just go slam my head in the oven a few times . . . Did Rob ask you to talk to me?"
"No. It's about something you said to me before, some time ago. You once said that Mento trained you in guarding your mind. But you've fallen to their powers as well as Mad Mod's hypno screens," she pointed out.
The controller, which he had held poised in the air, suddenly dropped to rest upon his knees and the character in his game stopped. His gaze turned distant and his embarrassment had vanished, leaving him with an almost hollow look. Before she could retract her inquiry, his lips twisted into a wry mockery of his usual grin and he answered.
"Steve . . . Steve made sure that they couldn't pull stuff outta my head. That I couldn't end up giving the villain-of-the-week, which was usually the Brain, their identities or his plans or anything else important. But he never tried to show me how to stop people from putting stuff in my head. He said it was a safety precaution."
She was silent for a moment as something in his voice, tinged with bitterness, took seed in her mind and grew until she voiced it, wincing even as the words left her mouth.
"In case he ever needed to take you out."
He nodded stoically, "Pretty much his exact words."
She lapsed into silence once again and the only sound in the room was the semi-archaic tune of the game interspersed with shouts from the other characters. Finally, she sourly noted, "Our team does not have the most glowing examples of father figures."
He chuckled, sorrow crippling the sound and preventing it from being anything more. "True, but I still think Steve outdoes your own dad by a mile. On the good side."
"Which doesn't say much."
"Believe it or not, he was the best out of all the other options that I had at the time."
She snorted in disbelief at his claim but did not refute it, and merely settled next to the changeling as he, smile restored, picked up the controller. As the camera view that had been circling his character switched back to first person, he proceeded forward and said, "Hey, Rae, y'know we, uh . . . we never quite finished our talk about your whole empathy thing."
She winced, her silent hopes of avoiding the topic dashed, and she sighed, "I suppose that you feel this is necessary?"
"Well, yeah, maybe, kinda sorta pretty much," he bobbed his head back and forth.
Drawing in a deep breath, she answered, "I'm sorry for attempting to pry into your emotions. I realize that I was invading your privacy and overstepping my boundaries, but I . . ."
"Not even sure why you'd want to get into my head," he confessed, his gaze not diverting from his game. "Lotta bad mojo going on up in there."
"Perhaps there would be less if you actually talked about some of the stuff in there," she advised.
"Yeah, but what's the word I'm looking for?" he mused, tapping his fingers against his chin before snapping them. "Oh, right. Ditto."
"I've discussed my past," she debated. "More openly than you, at least."
"Discussing your past and having your demonic dad try to end the world and kinda force you to share all that info ain't the same thing."
"You mean 'isn't,'" she corrected automatically before pausing. She gave a small shake of her head as she pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed, "I - I'm sorry. I didn't come here to argue with you."
"Aww, but it's our favorite means of communication."
"But it shouldn't be. W-we're friends. And I always seem to be yelling at you."
"Again, nothing totally new in most of my interactions. I get on peoples' nerves. It's totally my secondary mutation. Kinda like your empathy."
"Secon - I'm sorry. What?"
"Comic book stuff," he said, waving away her query. "Don't worry about it. Anyhoo, apology accepted for the whole empathic reading thing. And the getting mad at me. But, umm, are you ever gonna tell the rest of the team about your fancy lil' trick?"
"In my own time," she muttered. "Unless you're going to tell them."
He made a conflicted grimace. "And until then, you're just going to keep reading people's emotions, huh?"
Her glare flashed towards him though he carefully avoided meeting her gaze as his tongue slid from his mouth and the character in his game battled a hoard of what she presumed was goblinoids. Clenching her fists, she forcibly uncurled them and said, "I don't delve any further into our friends' minds to find their emotions than I would be able to determine simply by talking to them."
"Ooh, so I'm the exception. Exciting," he teased and she faltered. "Again, not really sure what you were hoping to find up there."
"It's more what I found in the first place," she admitted. "I was . . . I was surprised by the barriers you had in place. It . . ."
"Couldn't resist the challenge?" he suggested with a grin.
"I wasn't expecting them," she conceded.
"Say what you will, but Steve was a good teacher. Look, Rae, like I said, at this point, I'm over it. I just . . . I don't think keeping all of these secrets is gonna end well for anybody, and the sooner you tell the others, the easier it's gonna be."
She glared at him suspiciously and when he noticed it, he raised his hands and smirked, "It's me. No synthoid, hologram, or shape shifter here. Well, besides me. But I'm not a shape shifter disguised as another shape shifter. Just a shape-shifter who is an oh-so-fine shape shifter."
"Sometimes, there is surprising wisdom and maturity interspersed amongst the inane babble that pours from you," she observed.
"I'm a regular fortune cookie. By the way, your lucky numbers are 1, 10, 19, 26, and 80," he smiled.
"That's more like it," she said, and they shared in the moment of mirth before some lumbering beast burst from the underbrush to attack his character and he yelped as he hastily tried to defend himself. An amused smile spread across her face as she watched his efforts, and she settled back into the couch, conjuring her current book into her hands as she relaxed beside him.
Pristine Pictures Modeling Agency (Under Construction), Jump City. 1738 Hours, 17 AUGUST 2014
Across the bay from the tower, in what had once been an empty lot, a partially constructed office building had been raised. From the exterior, it looked almost complete, save for the lack of windows in the spaces of the cherry red brick that tempted the spray-paint armed artists of the city with its freshness. Inside, the walls were a sterile white, the floor was merely concrete, and the wiring was incomplete after an issue arose between the contractors and those who had commissioned the building. While the dispute was being settled, somebody had set up in what would have been an office, high above the ground.
A massive figure, distinctly inhuman, leaned against the wall near the empty window, poring over the blueprints and sheets spread before him, blunt claws tracing over them as he muttered to himself. Occasionally, he would pause and scribble a quick note on the pad of paper that rested upon the leg clothed in white slacks. Fangs pushed from the upper lip of his scaly snout and slit pupils stared from gold-flecked eyes at his mess. Scales, a hue muddied between grey and olive green, covered his burly arms and the rest of his body, thickening into scutes on his neck and downward. His oar-like tail emerged from the specially tailored slacks, curling towards his side. Wingtip shoes covered his considerable feet and a black dress shirt was buttoned to right below his thick neck, beneath a well-kept white vest.
Atop the official blueprints, he had scattered a number of clear plastic sheets that had geometric lines drawn along them. He squinted at the numbers scribbled in the bottom corners and rumbled in annoyance when his vision did not clear. Reaching for one of the breast pockets on the immaculate vest, he retrieved a pair of golden, wire-framed spectacles, and rested them upon his snout. Glancing at the corner again, he grunted and positioned the sheet before inspecting the scene again, tracing the paths of the dark lines and comparing it with the blueprint. Above him, there was the rustling of movement before a weight dropped upon the back of his broad neck and a soft voice cooed into his ear.
"Ooh, Icky, I love it when you put on the oh-so-super-sexy specs. You get looking all intellectual-like," purred the brown-furred woman who pressed against him.
Leathery wings embraced him, long enough to touch across his bulk and rudimentary fingers, one thumb and two longer digits grew from the ends of her arms while the remaining fingers elongated to form the anchor points of her wings' membranes. She was small and almost frighteningly light, but she had assured him it was a healthy weight for her species and necessary for flight. Her limber form was muscular, carefully shaved of any excess fat, and she coiled against him as she stretched up to nip at his scaly hide with her fangs. The claws of her feet rested on his scales rather than ruin another of his suits.
"Yer a strange lil' thin'," he observed. With greater grace than her long wings would suggest, she slid over his shoulder and into his lap, which she nestled into with flagrantly fake innocence. A smile flashed across her pretty face at the thrumming sound that vibrated through his broad chest. She was attired in a soft pink tank top with buttons on the side allowing her to pull it on over her wings and her long legs and broad hips were barely encased in white jean shorts.
"But I'm your strange little thing. Just like you're my big, sexy nerd," she said, catching his orange gaze with her jade green eyes before lapping at the pulse beneath the broader, lighter scales of his underbelly. One scaly hand rested upon her hip, causing her to shiver at the touch of the claws that slipped beneath her shirt to play across her skin, while the other lay upon his drawings and blueprints.
"Bella, yer nerd's a bit busy plannin' here," he informed her and she smiled.
"Possibly planning a delightful date?"
She made playful bites at his throat, unable to break through his natural armor, but he could feel them and it provoked a shudder. Closing his eyes for a moment, which only served to increase his awareness of her warm body against his, he said, "Iffit goes well, I'll put a portion o' m'share t'takin' y'on some dates."
"Or a vacation!" she gasped, instantly enthralled with the idea, spreading her immense wingspan as she envisioned it. "We should go to that pretty Paris! The food, the culture . . . oh, it would be so ripely, ridiculously romantic!"
"And I take it that we're not invited?"
A figure swaggered into the room, flanked by two more who did not share her confident strut. Clinging to her curvaceous frame was a slinky dress that seemed to almost melt against the obsidian skin, distinguished only by the sheen of her smooth flesh and the bright patches of red that covered her underbelly and traveled to the bottom of her full lips. The back of her dark dress reached behind a long rotund tail that extended over her shapely rear. Her face was flat with dark, sparkling eyes and a hungry smile as she regarded the couple, chuckling as the alligator man's arm wrapped slightly tighter about the bat woman. Silver bracelets jangled upon her slender wrists and her meager height was boosted by her dark heels that were kept expertly silent as they progressed across the bared floor.
"Short answer's 'no,'" rumbled the reptile as Bella, still stubbornly nestled against him, gave a short nod in agreement.
The slick-skinned woman arched a brow and her smirk grew wider as she pressed, "And the long answer?"
"Somethin' that shouldn't be said in p'lite company," he answered with a growl.
A velvety chuckle slid from her throat, "Why, Thaddeus, you wound me."
Thaddeus Icarus Toch hissed at the usage of his given name but Sonia Chu remained unimpressed. Suddenly, wings rose to cut off his view and his head was pulled down to meet the soft gaze of Bella Free, still seated in his lap. For an increasingly uncomfortable moment, the three guests were left on the outside of the curtaining wings through which only clouded murmurs passed. Sonia rolled her eyes, unimpressed by the intimate display as one of her compatriots giggled and gazed blatantly at the pair. The third member of the excluded trio shuffled about on her feet, glancing down at them anxiously before occasionally lifting an envious glance towards the cocooned pair. Finally, the leathery wings descended, settling atop the scaly hand already lying upon her taut stomach, to reveal a rather pleased Bella and a significantly calmer Icarus. He cleared his throat, covering the end of his snout with a hand and banishing any embarrassment, as the woman gave a smug grin and scooted closer against him. Lifting his gaze again, he focused on the trio in front of him and demanded, "E'erythin' ready?"
"I managed to get the - y'know - get the codes and-and stuff," answered the shy member, Holly, her luminescent blush almost visible through her black and white feathers. A bright red tuft swept from the back of her head. An old military jacket without sleeves was draped on her pudgy frame and littered with her various novelty buttons that clattered together. Baggy canvas pants covered her legs and nearly swallowed her feet, and it carried more of her peculiar treasures as well as a heavy belt loaded with a variety of cellphones and portable devices. Scaly fingers emerged from the dark feathers of her arms and she kept her wings folded back, allowing her greater access with her hands.
Icarus gave a satisfied nod before looking to the final member of the small crew. "Y'have what'cha need?"
"I've got plenty of explosives - honestly, when don't I? - but I'm a little, teensy bit short on the less collateral damage inducing hardware," Kay Edison shrugged with an eager glint in his brown eyes. Fur the yellow of straw grew in a ring about his gun barrel grey face, and a patch of fur sprouted from the bottom of his elongated muzzle. His unique features had been hidden in the shadows of a deep, grey cloth hood, emerging from a sturdy, tan jacket, which he had managed to fit a bill cap beneath. Hidden about his person was a small armory of various weaponry though there were no obvious signs that he was wearing them. His long tail was tucked into the rough, faded jeans reached to the scuffed work boots that each held a combat knife. The fingers of leather gloves emerged from the back pockets of his jeans, and he hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jackets as he leaned against a bare wall.
"Can y'just bust into a gunshop or did'ja need somethin' speci'lized?" Icarus asked.
"Oh, I already got my shopping list drawn up. I just wanted the go ahead," he flashed a toothy smile, eyes glinting dangerously at the plans he had already lain.
"Go n' geddem. Just don' git caught 'fore we git t' th'actual job," he instructed.
"Me? Caught?" he echoed, appearing injured. "Toch, buddy, you should know better than that."
"Lemme clar'fy. Don' git caught n' don' go flyin' 'bove the radar."
"Sooooo . . . no rocket launchers? RPG's? Nail bombs?"
"No."
"Spoilsport."
"Was there anything you needed, Sonia?" Bella interrupted from her scaly throne.
She shrugged at the query, arms folded under her daunting bosom in a subconscious effort to further emphasize it. "Just an idea as to how we're going to pull off this job, which, according to that masterly forged diploma I have, I can certify as insane."
"Should be simple. Take control o' th'alarms, avoid the guards, git everything. N' be ready for th'Titan runts," he explained.
"So, we're just ducking around the guards? That's it?" she critiqued.
"I kinda have to object to that," Kay chuckled darkly.
"I don't," Holly voiced though her remark was lost amongst the others.
"Too bad. Figger out how t'handle any opp'sition widdout hurtin' the guards. They're just tryin' to do their jobs. However yah, non-fatally, geddem outta the way, just do it quick, do it quiet," he instructed shortly. "Now, if y'gotta job, get t'it. Otherwise, just geddout. I need t'finish the plans."
With varied expressions, the trio shuffled from the room. Sonia paused at the doorway, glancing back over shoulder to meet Icarus's eyes who showed his teeth and hissed before she disappeared into the shadows. After they had all departed, Bella remained happily seated in his lap and he looked down at her.
"Yer aware that I meant you as well, sweetheart. Bounce."
"Ah, c'mon," she beamed up at him, wavering between a cajoling and sensual tone. Her hand reached up to stroke along his jaw and he rolled his head, allowing her greater access, as a heavy thrum rumbled from his throat. Realizing her trickery, he lifted his head out of her reach and gave a short growl as she pouted, "I'll be as quiet as a meek, minuscule mouse. Well, plus the wonderful wings. Won't bother you one bit. Fur Scout's honor."
"Y'tol' me that y'were kicked outta the Fur Scouts fer stealin' from the others n' lyin' 'bout it," he pointed out.
"And I was framed! Remember? I told you that it was a freaking frame job!" she declared heatedly before throwing her arms across her chest, pouting as she flopped back against him. Throwing her head back to meet his gaze, she said, "Now you have to let me sit in my scaly seat because you were being a meanie."
His eyes narrowed and his mouth parted slightly to put his jagged teeth on display again but she did not flinch and instead stretched up to place a kiss on his bulbous snout. It snapped shut in surprise at the token of affection and his gaze flickered away as she gave a smug chuckle and pressed against him, snuggling into his bulk. She grabbed one of his hands and placed it across her toned belly as though drawing a blanket over her. With a sigh, Icarus dropped his maw to nuzzle her head, which she cooed at, but offered a warning to accompany his affections.
"Fine. But if y'don't behave, I'll bind yer wings n' toss y'in the ocean."
"Ooh, kinky," she purred and he groaned in exasperation.
Edwards Freight Gotham Headquarters. 2016 Hours, 17 AUGUST 2014
Upon the other side of the nation, in a notably higher office within a finished spire of glass, stone, and steel, a blonde woman, distinctly human, laughed into a cellphone. She rocked to and fro in a tall-backed chair, free hand occasionally making wide gestures that nearly cleared her desk in their enthusiasm before she wisely rolled away from it. Her smile was genuine and turned a pretty face radiant, the sincere joy reaching to her eyes that shimmered with excitement.
"No, no. It sounds great. Can't wait."
There was a beeping upon her computer and she turned to see the camera from the elevator depict a broad-shouldered man swaggering in and pressing the button for the top floor. Her delight dwindled and Brianna Edwards gave a small sigh, "Looks like we're going ta have ta cut this short, luv. I'm afraid I've got some company."
There was a short remark on the other end as she rolled back to her desk and she gave a small smile, "No, not that kind of company. Unless you've somehow figured how ta dupe my cameras and that's you on the way up . . . Yeah, I didn't think so."
She lapsed into silence as her partner muttered something, speaking quick and low, and her grin was displaced with an expression of concern. Pushing her eyelids shut, she released a breath through her nose and brought a hand to her temple, massaging it.
"And you didn't start with this because . . .? Of course, I'm upset! Why wouldn't I be upset?! You can't . . . No, no, I understand, but it's . . ."
Sparing a glance towards the computer and checking what floor her guest was on, she grimaced, "Look, I've got a visitor on the way. An important one. But we're not done here. We need ta talk about this. At least let me-"
Her words were interrupted by the unwelcome arrival of the elevator, and something dark, usually hidden deep beneath the surface, flashed in her eyes before she soothed her expression as the doors opened to admit Bruce Wayne into the spacious office. Offering a smile that lacked much of the charm of her previous one, she waved him forward and spoke quickly into the phone, "Going ta have ta go now, luv. Hugs and kisses."
She closed the cellphone and set it to the side of her desk as the handsome man settled into the seat across from her and flashed a winning smile, "Good evening, Ms. Edwards. I'm sorry for the late visit, but we just wrapped up a meeting."
"Oh, come now, Brucie. We're partners now - friends, I dare say. You can call me Brianna," she assured him. "So, come ta celebrate our maiden voyage together? Should I be breaking out the brandy?"
"When I celebrate, Ms. Edwa - Brianna, I prefer a more . . . intimate setting," he said smoothly.
"Trouble, then? The lads break any of your cargo? Promise I'll let you break something of theirs," she smirked.
"Oh, no. Nothing like that. I'm just a little concerned about the delay they experienced."
"Ah. Right. That. We ran inta some inclement weather - real freak storm. Had to shore up for a few days. Wasn't too much trouble, was it?" she said in what was to be the closest to an apology as he was likely to get from her.
"No, no. The board was concerned about it, and I said that I would find out what was going on before they summoned their goon squad of lawyers."
"Saved me from paperwork, yeah? Regular white knight, you are," she observed, reclining in her chair.
"Anything for a fair maiden," he said, performing a mock bow without rising from his seat. As he straightened, he asked, "Was the ship damaged or anything?"
"Fortunately not. Her captain's a good man. Got her in before the worst of the storm hit."
"And how go the repairs on La Concorde?"
"Slowly," she conceded, lips pulling into a frown. "They need ta start offering 'super' insurance for all the damage these capes do. The heroes seem ta end up doing more of it than the crooks and the nuts they're trying to stop."
Bruce laughed, "It's a surprisingly unexplored realm of business."
They paused as the elevator chimed again and the fellow moguls looked to its doors as they opened to admit Miss Blackwood. Long strides carried her across the marble floor, a paper bag in one hand. Her sharp gaze, hidden by the scruffy bangs of her hair, fell upon the broad-shouldered man and she returned his warm smile with the same, short nod of their previous meeting. She skirted about the side of the desk and took up her place at Brianna's shoulder who greedily seized the bag from her. Ripping open the top, she inhaled the warm aromas before moaning pleasurably.
"As terrifyingly fattening as most of the food is around here, I can see why you lot chow down so heartily. Every now and then, I decide ta treat myself," she explained. "Want some chips?"
"As tempting as they smell, I'm going to have to refuse. Actually, I'm afraid I must be going. I've found that my dates don't entirely get the concept of fashionable lateness," he excused himself with a smile and stood. Brianna followed suit and grabbed the hand extended to her. He flashed another smile, "Someday soon, you and I are going to have to go out for a real celebration."
"Give me a where and when, Brucie, and we'll paint the town red," she promised, the dark hunger filling her smile once again.
Gotham's favorite son turned, letting the bright countenance drop once it was out of their sight as his mind set to work. The weight of the ship that carried his cargo had been the same at its origin and its destination, but the island where it had been forced to harbor the storm was home to a shady locale. The tracker slipped amongst his cargo had shown that there had been closer ports when the tempest struck, but they had braved the dismal weather for a distant shelter. Reports showed that crime and corruption were rampant in the streets and the officials, and it was, according to his sources, a reputed haven for modern pirates. A sanctuary between raids where they could sell or spend whatever they had acquired in their latest attack. Its dissociation from his city had stayed his direct involvement, but he suspected that that would change soon.
As he stepped into the elevator, he fixed an even smile upon his face for when he turned towards the blonde and her harsh-faced assistant. The former offered a wave with a free hand as she savagely tore into a burger and he gave a small nod in return just before the doors closed.
Whoo! New villains!
Honestly, we had a lot more fun writing the fight scene between Robin and the crowbar guy than we thought we would. He may have to become a regular character in our comic universe. Also, funny tidbit, he was originally going to have a Bostonian accent, but we figured folks would have a hard enough time deciphering Toch.
Speaking of which, we really like Toch and his crew (we hope you share the sentiment). However, we understand that his speech can be a little difficult to decipher (hey, you try talking through a slightly modified alligator maw), so if it gets to be too much, if figuring it out is more of a challenge than it's worth, let us know. We'll tone it down.
In other news, the Titans are going to start playing larger roles. We have neglected them somewhat in our attempts to introduce you all to our characters, but we will be doing what we can to correct that.
Last thing, we swear - a few people were a bit upset at the change in title. Now, while the original song does not entirely fit the tone of the story, we implore you to check out the cover by 'Mourning Ritual.' Whenever we listen to that song, we always find ourselves envisioning Alondra and her plots in Jump City.
Thanks to everybody who reviewed last time and we hope more of you will do so this time (Please? Pretty please? Gula's not too proud to beg. That's Superbia's shtick)!