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Harris Dance Studios (Defunct), Jump City. 2236 Hours, 23 AUGUST 2014
It's going down . . . I'm yelling 'Timber!' . . . You better move . . . You better dance . . .
The expensive stereo belted out the smooth lyrics, resounding throughout the spacious flat with its well-lacquered floor. Grime-coated windows rattled under the bass and the whistling tones of the harmonica slipped from the room in spectacular disregard for any neighbors whose complaints had already been previously addressed and handled. Cavorting upon the floor were a small group of men and women, chosen and brought together for their individual beauty, but any sensuality in their movements was lost in their stiff, jerking motions and the blank, vacant stare. Along the wall, a ragged man sat dejectedly upon a threadbare mattress, paying no heed to the dancers even as their stamping feet came dangerously close to trampling his extended legs.
In the center of the crowd stood a young woman, a girl, who swung with complete ease of motion, demonstrating impressive agility and coordination upon worn cowboy boots. Her short hair was covered by the blue hood of the sweater she had acquired, but she made up for its conservative nature with ripped-off jean shorts, pockets extending beyond the ragged hem. All sets of eyes in the room were fixed upon her, empty gazes following her every movement and moving in concert to her. As the chorus started up again, they broke into pairs and hooked arms with their partners, following the instructions of the song.
As she hooked the crook of her elbow with her own partner, she offered him a smile that he returned though it lacked its usual enthusiasm. Chuckling affectionately, she leaned in close to press a kiss to the green cheek that flustered the boy, nearly causing him to trip over his own feet.
Let's make a night you won't remember . . . I'll be the one you won't forget . . .
"Have I told you how cute you are?" She purred as they broke apart though she remained close to him, turning to press her back against his chest, guiding his hands to her hips. He touched her nervously, gaze wide enough to make an aye-aye envious, but adjusted quickly as he nuzzled against her hood.
"It's the ears, isn't it? Chicks dig the ears."
A bubble of laughter burst from her and she spun around to loop her arms about Beast Boy's neck though she leaned away from him as she traced a soft finger along the ridge of the extremity. He gave a slight twitch under her touch, trying to escape the nail riding along his sensitive skin, and she giggled again.
"Oh, most definitely. Though, you do have . . . other attractive qualities."
Biting upon her bottom lip, she let her stare roam over his body, one of her hands forgoing its hold to drift down his chest, testing the firm muscles beneath the sleeveless white shirt she had pulled onto him. A part of her regretted letting him wear a shirt to begin with, but her patience had won out. As her fingers explored his body, parting only as the chorus started once again, her mind turned to the continued probing of his mental defenses, seeking a defect in the bulwark that kept her from gleaning anything deeper than his surface thoughts. Whenever she caught the hint of stirring beneath the delusion she had woven him into, she hastily patched up the fraying, returning him to dull compliance.
"Hey, Rae." She flinched at the name but quickly blanked his notice of it from his mind. "I, uh, I wanted you to know that, I, well . . ."
He stumbled over his words, tongue tying together and he ducked his head, hiding his face even if his flush was barely noticeable against his skin. Despite the sour taste left in her mouth by the name, she hooked a finger under his chest and lifted him to face her.
"Say it." When he remained silent, mouth hanging open asa he struggled to form the words, something dark flashed through her expression and he brow furrowed. [SAY IT.]
Pain struck like lightning across his face and he winced as she reached up to stroke his cheek consolingly as she encouraged him in a gentler tone. "You can tell me anything. Just . . . just say it."
A touch of desperation seeped into her tone and he licked his lips nervously as he marshaled his courage.
"I . . . I love you."
A smile bloomed across her visage, pink coloring her cheeks as she took her turn to duck her head, hiding her embarrassment as he forged onward. "And-and-and I know that's kinda crazy to say and everything, but that's - it's - y'know, I-I just . . ."
He took a shuddering breath, licking his lips again, which had turned endlessly dry, and continued, "Th-this isn't just me being immature. I really do - mmh!"
Lips crashed into his own, cutting off his words as supple arms wrapped about his neck pulling him down to her even as his partner stood upon her toes, stretching up to connect with him. After a second of surprise, he responded in kind, clumsily kissing her though it did nothing to deplete her enthusiasm. Only a small stab of pain caused her to break the kiss and she pulled back, lifting a hand to her bottom lip and pulling back to find a smear of blood staining her skin. Panic flooded the boy's features and his ears drooped at the sight of the cut.
"Oh, fu - Go - crap. Crap, crap, crap. I-I-I-I totally didn't mean to! I just, it's - you -"
"Hush."
Her instruction was accompanied by a finger against his flapping lips and she smiled as he complied, sucking her lip into her mouth and letting the salty, metallic taste wash over her tongue. Sliding her gaze from him, she took in the small crowd who had fallen still at the change of the song and now looked attentively towards her. However, some of the fog was beginning to lift from their gaze and they were taking motions that she had not called for. Snarling under her breath, she pushed several aside and strutted from the crowd, earning their blatant ogling, and marched several yards out before stopping and turning back towards them sharply.
Catching them in a glare, she let herself slip into the rhythm of the song, almost losing herself in its beat but she pulled out before she could descend too deep into it. Instead, as they all pointedly watched her provocative gyration, she reached out with her mind into theirs and tucked the stirring, dangerous thoughts beneath the blanket of her control. Some struggled against such subtle intrusions but without any training to bolster their efforts, such protests were quickly smothered as they were cocooned in her will once again. They resumed their shuffling gait, mirroring her own motions as any sign of something beyond their eyes faded and she beamed as she shoved her way back into the crowd, finding her partner waiting for her. She giggled excitedly as she threw her arms about him, directing his hands to her hips again.
She pressed against him, swaying in time to the rhythm as the others gyrated and thrashed about them though not with giving them berth. Within her island, she rested, gathering what little peace and solace she could, fascinated by the walls that let nothing slip from his mind. He offered no errant thoughts to rattle into her head, empty of the blatant duplicity that plagued the heads of others.
"Say it again." Her voice was a whisper, but his keen ears caught the command. "Tell me you love me."
"I love you," he answered obediently, his grip about her tightening.
Sighing in pleasure at the sentiment that poured from him, she dropped her head against his chest as they drifted lazily together. Drawing her arms in, she laid her palms against his chest and nuzzled against him. Her fingers clenched, curling in his shirt and she gave a small chuckle under her breath, the previous coming to mind.
"Let's make a night, you won't remember . . . I'll be the one, you won't forget . . ."
Jump City Police Department, Precinct 27. 0918 Hours, 26 AUGUST 2014
"Has he said anything?"
Detective Alexander Montgomery had faithfully served as a member of the Jump City Police Department for years even before the appearance of the Titans and he had adapted admirably to the arrival of the young heroes. A rare initial proponent amongst the police, he had found himself saddled with the responsibility of being the official liaison for the team. He had come to know them well, and dared to imagine that he had grown close to them, so he didn't need to bring his full array of detective skills to tell that the stern-faced boy was in desperate need of at least a day of sleep.
The paternal part of him, which he had forced to suppress even as he mused with equal parts sorrow and awe that his daughter was of a similar age, wanted to guide the boy to the glorified cot they kept at the station and tuck the worn, scratchy blanket around him. His more rational side reminded him that this was the same teenager who had faced and survived the end of the world, along with countless other threats. Ceasing his inspection of the aptly-named Boy Wonder with a sigh, he tossed a handful of gummy bears into his mouth and turned his gaze back towards the one-way window, settling on the lone occupant of the dim room beyond it.
"He's said hella plenty. Name's Thaddeus Icarus Toch, which isn't in any database. He's an architect, but none of the buildings he says he's worked on seem to exist. Oh, and that he's from a different, parallel time stream or something like that. Which would, admittedly, answer some other questions and is hella less strange to me than it should be."
He paused his rant to scoop more of his colorful candy from the bag, which he had already offered to the Boy Wonder, and toss them into his mouth before he scratched at his mangy neck and continued speaking. "But, at the mention of his crew or the goods they stole, he clams right up."
Robin nodded, arms folded over his chest before squinting behind his mask, which the detective could only determine as he jutted his head forward slightly. "What's he doing to the table?"
On the other side of the window, oblivious to his observers, the scaled man scratched his nail in deliberate motions against the heavy table he was shackled to. They had cobbled together an orange jumpsuit to squeeze him into and his heavy tail was fitted with a clamp chained to a bolt in the floor. His ankles were tethered to the sturdy chair, and the entire set-up he had been fitted into was traditionally meant for criminals such as Mammoth and Adonis whenever he found himself unable to revert from his Beast transformation.
"Floor plans. At least, that's what he says they are. We've been checking city plans and blueprints, but it doesn't look like they match anything on record."
"Do you mind if I speak to him?"
He faltered, recalling the boy's last attempt at interrogation, and he eyed him carefully. "I s'pose. You need some back-up?"
"I'll be good. Thank you, detective," Robin tried to give a smile but only managed to come off as more in need of a respite than before.
He turned towards the door and almost seemed to glide through it, closing it quietly behind him. Within the shadows and hidden from the detective's vision, the dark-haired boy took a moment to close his eyes and breathe, shoving aside the fatigue that saturated his bones. It had been over a day since the criminal's apprehension and he could almost hear Batman's voice berating him for taking so long. His time, and much of his sleep, had been consumed by the search for the still absent Beast Boy and assuaging his increasingly agitated teammates.
"I don't s'pose I could git sum shoes?"
The gravelly voice startled him from his momentary rest and his gaze opened upon Toch, who calmly continued his vandalism of the table.
"Pretty looks 'side, I ain't sum sorta animal. I got m'dignity," he said conversationally.
"I'll see what I can do," he nodded from his place at the door. Shaken from his brief stupor, he pushed aside his tiredness, recalling the training he had received atop the grotesques and gargoyles of a distant city when the dawn seemed impossibly distant. As he did so, he studied the burly man who seemed perfectly content to ignore him, entranced by his work on the table. For over past half of the last decade, Robin had been studying, in one set or another, the criminal element, and he considered himself, not unfairly, an expert on the subject.
Despite portrayal in the media, most lacked any grand schemes to take over the world or enact equally ominous and bizarre goals. They were not driven by some inscrutable purpose that required an entire team of psychologists to decipher. They did not label themselves with weird monikers, wear colorful costumes, or employ countless ranks of henchmen who shared in their questionable fashion sense. They were not in the process of assembling a death ray or some other weapon, and pointedly avoided superheroes and police instead of challenging them. Most held no greater aspirations than to make money and stay out of prison.
Despite the inhuman appearance, stolen weaponry, and intentional engagement with the Titans, Robin's inspection of the scaled behemoth revealed a criminal, not a super villain. However, certain actions and behaviors prevented him from settling on either classification, and it nettled at him, driving him here.
"Raven told me about your escape plan. You waited for us," he said, an accusation in place of a question.
"M' guessin' that was th' broad who keeps sum sorta Hell under her cloak or sumthin'?" he grumbled without shifting his gaze though he did pause, tilting his head to study his work. "Cuz, hon'stly, all y'hairless mammals kinda look th' same t'me."
"The guards were put somewhere safe and out of the way of the fires. Even most of your explosives were low grade. You weren't trying to hurt anybody more than you had to - until you decided to fight us instead of making your getaway."
"I got th' sense that there was gon' be 'nuff reason t'toss me in jail," he muttered. "Sit'ation din't need exace'batin'."
"So, you were planning to be captured?"
"Well, it cert'ly wan't th' orig'nal 'dea. But, no plan e'er survives first contact, y'know? Adjustments needa be made."
"What was the plan, then?"
"Oh, well, we were all gon' - yeah, nice try." He snorted, chuckling before finally leaning back in his chair, regarding Robin with amusement in his yellow eyes. "Y'know, kid, I did m'homework. I know who y'used t'work fer, n' I gotta say, I'mma touch dis'pointed. I was 'spectin' less p'lice station, more gittin' dropped offa roofs."
"I'm not him," he growled as his gaze narrowed menacingly.
"Clearly."
"Where did you get those weapons?" he wondered, changing tracks with a touch of eagerness.
"C'mon. Y'think big brother's gon' be lettin' all y'superfreaks go runnin' round wit'out sum sorta insurance?" he chuckled. "One o' m' crew picked 'em up from one o' yer forts. He sorta fell in love wit'em."
"Then, what was the plan here? I mean, you're going to prison, but the rest of your crew is still out there with all those weapons, all that art, and everything else you stole. And you're just going to let them get away with that? After all that planning you did?"
"'M not lettin'em git 'way wit' anythin'. Yer the so-called hero."
"And you're the one with the information. You know where they are, where they're headed. I'm betting you know who they're fencing the stuff to."
"A reas'nable deduction. It wouldn't make much sense t'steal all the stuff n' have no way t'move it." He nodded his head thoughtfully as he scratched more of his designs into the table, pausing and studying them before adding several numbers along the edge. "Whattaya think? Bit osten'tious, huh? Might have t' rework it 'gain. Keep the pool fer me, atr'um fer Bella, but . . ."
He descended into mumbling, brows dipping downward as he scarred more of his deliberate scrawl into the previously pristine metal. Behind his mask, Robin's eye narrowed in a glare and he slammed his palms against the table, stirring Toch from his thoughts who looked up to him curiously.
"Trust me when I say that I've got way better things to do than to be talking to you. If you want to make this any easier on yourself, just tell what you're hiding from me."
"You wanna know what I'm hidin'?" He scooted forward, resting his arms upon the table as his gaze fixed upon Robin, departing only to check the room out of instinct. As though his suspicion was unabated, he leaned forward further and Robin mirrored him. His gaze shifted again, scouring the shadows and making sure to check the ceiling once again before whispering to the youth.
"Truth is, Bella's talkin' 'bout havin' kids, sumhow, but I don' think 'm ready for paren'hood. But, y'know, I don' wanna dis'point her. Whattaya think?"
Robin drew back, schooling his expression before it could twist into a scowl as the man across the table threw back his maw and laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. Dropping his head back down, he fixed the young hero with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he gave another low chuckle.
"Now, 'til I git some shoes, I think you n' I are done chattin'."
Falling silent, Robin approached the table, glancing at the painstakingly detailed etching scarred into its surface. Straight lines were arranged in an expansive residence, occupied by spacious rooms that were carefully labeled and marked with distinct measurements. He had finished the third floor of the domain and had returned to the first to sketch the grounds. A roundabout fed into a long driveway as well as an extensive garage. Behind the sprawling manor was a pool and what appeared to be a garden of stone arches and pillars of varying heights.
"I can get the shoes, but the pool might be a bit out of my range," he confessed.
"Hah," he barked, his great maw splitting open. "Y'gotta sense'a humor. I wasn't 'spectin' that."
"Yeah, well, I'm just full of surprises," he said as he turned and left the room. He glanced to the detective as he closed the heavy door. "He knows where they are, at the very least. He probably knows more than that, but I suspect that he's done talking. At least, about anything useful."
"We'll keep at him."
"You need to keep him somewhere secure. I don't like how collected he is about going to prison."
"Got it."
"I need to head back to the Tower," he sighed.
"Still can't find any leads on Beast Boy?" the elder man asked, his voice instinctively dropping to a whisper.
The youth nodded glumly, "Cyborg and Raven are running themselves ragged. Starfire's trying to keep everybody's spirits up, and me . . . I'm just trying to keep everybody running."
Glancing away, the elder man dragged his hand down his haggard face and let his paternal instincts take over. He looked towards the dark-haired boy and stated, "Look, I know you kids have saved our city hella more times than I can remember. But, at this rate, you kids are gonna burn yourself out. I understand that you need to find your friend, but you guys . . . you need to take a vacation or something."
He chuckled wryly, "Yeah, we tried that before. Didn't turn out so well."
"Well, I think somebody once said something that pertains to that. Try, try again," he suggested.
"Thanks, detective. Good luck with Toch," he said as he waved farewell, striding down the hall. He moved through the police station, nodding and exchanging simple pleasantries with the various officers that populated it. A part of him marveled at the difference between his relations with the authorities in Jump City compared to Gotham City. Commissioner Gordon was an undoubted ally, but the rest of the police force was somewhere between openly but inactively hostile to outright and vehemently opposed. On the other side of the nation, he faced certain disputes, but shared a largely friendly relationship with them after their initial wariness.
Calling farewell to the officer manning the front desk, he exited the building and steered towards his motorcycle, slipping his helmet before rolling out of the parking lot and then roaring down the street. He pushed up the visor, the rush of wind forcing him into wakefulness and his eyes were wide as he moved swiftly through the traffic. Turning down a dead-end alley, he pressed a button on his motorcycle and the road lifted to reveal a ramp that closed again as he drove down it. Lights flickered on within the tunnel as he roared beneath the bay to the Tower.
Emerging into the garage, he sighed as he noticed that the T-Car was missing and shut off his motorcycle as he rolled into his parking spot. Removing his helmet, he pulled his Communicator from his belt and opened it to contact the absent vehicle. The line picked up quickly and Cyborg's deep baritone boomed over it.
"This is Cy. What's up?"
"I thought that you said that you were going to wait," he grumbled as he strode towards the elevator and pressed the button to summon it.
"I was. But then you started takin' too long," he answered.
"Just because there's one of us missing doesn't mean that we can just neglect our other duties," he argued as he entered the elevator.
"You want to spend your time searchin' for a buncha no-name crooks? That's on you. Me, I'm lookin' for my friend."
The call ended abruptly and Robin stared at the screen for a second before sighing and returning it to his utility belt. He looked up as the doors opened and he trudged into the room to find Starfire floating worriedly behind the couch. Pausing for a moment, he drew in a breath and straightened his shoulders before marching into the room.
"Is everything all right, Star?"
"Boyfriend Robin!" she brightened upon seeing him and hurtled forward. She paused, floating nervously in front of him before she admitted, "I'm afraid that friends Cyborg and Raven may have left prematurely to search for Beast Boy."
"I just spoke to Cyborg," he nodded. "And I'm not surprised about Raven."
She frowned and asked, "Are you all right?"
He massaged his brow and admitted, "I'm just tired. Which is nothing new."
"You must rest." She pulled him into the room, her grip firm but gentle by her own standard as she tugged him towards the couch, setting him upon it. "I will not permit you to overwork yourself."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I - uff!"
He let out a sudden expulsion of air as his attempt at standing was summarily routed as she forced him back onto the couch. Her strong fingers kneaded his shoulders, and she demonstrated the moderation of her super strength that she had learned over the years and he groaned appreciatively. However, his instincts refused to allow him to relax and he started to pull away.
"Beast Boy's missing, a bunch of criminals I've never heard of are crawling out of the woodwork, and I'm fairly certain that Cyborg and Raven are close to starting a mutiny. There's no time to relax." His attempt at standing was again thwarted as she demonstrated the strength that she had been holding back, and held him on the couch until he ceased his struggle.
"Then you must make time," she declared. He leaned his head back to look up at her and found himself in a private world created by the curtain of her hair. Emerald light burned within her large eyes and a part of him wondered if he was imagining it or if the glow was real. A warm hand caressed his cheek as the other peeled away his mask, uncovering bright blue eyes that she stared at for a moment, trying to convey her message. Once she felt that he had understood her, she leaned down to kiss him and he did nothing to refuse the affection.
As they deepened the kiss, she floated over the back of the couch to curl into his lap and he wrapped his arms around her. Her fingers splayed across his chest, tracing over it as the urge to separate from his body surged through her. However, such desires were squashed by the chime of a Communicator and she mewled plaintively as he pulled away, albeit reluctantly, and reached for his belt to produce the small device. He flipped it open to reveal a woman with rich, brown hair and a concerted expression.
"Elasti-Girl," he said in greeting. Starfire quickly flitted away, stifling a yelp and ducking out of view.
"Have you found my boy?" she demanded, skipping pleasantries. The brunette called regularly since he had first contacted her, demanding updates upon the situation whenever she had time. Other members of the team often joined her in learning the whereabouts of their estranged teammate. Robin would hastily provide whatever answer he could, hoping to appease them but mostly the woman he had remembered as the friendliest of the group in their first encounter.
"Not yet," he winced.
"And you still have no clue as to where he could be?"
"We're checking everywhere. The police are working with us, but we haven't been able to find him yet."
"We're coming out there. We should be done here in the next day or two and then -"
ZRRRRKK!
The screen jumped and tumbled about as Elasti-Girl ducked to avoid a laser blast, and she began to grow as she snapped, "Talk later."
Her image disappeared from the screen and he closed the Communicator before returning it to his belt and looking towards Starfire. Picking up his mask from where it had been discarded upon the couch, he affixed it to his face and sighed.
"Back to work."
Bat-Cave, Beneath Wayne Manor. 2140, 26 AUGUST 2014
Bruce Wayne frowned as he studied the screen, fingers steepled together as he looked over the data assembled before him. He sat in the tall chair before the massive computer, discipline keeping him from acknowledging the chill that easily bit through his dark tuxedo. His bow tie lay undone about his neck and his jacket was unbuttoned as he reached forward to type upon the massive keyboard. He did not react as a slender figure strode from the shadows and crossed her arms upon the tall back of the chair, resting her chin atop them.
"So, this is from the bugs in that Edwards woman's office, right? Or, should I be calling her Brianna too?" Batgirl asked, her voice lightly teasing though she knew better than to expect a response to it. Her lithe form was covered in light, durable armor that was the hue of obsidian, save for golden gloves, boots, and the bat symbol on her modest bosom. Brilliant crimson hair emerged from the back of her cowl, flowing to her shoulders, and bright eyes were covered by transparent lenses flitted over the computer screen, committing all the information to the inescapable vault of her memory. A short cape reached to her knees, its interior the same bright hue as the hands and feet of her flexible suit.
"Yes. And no," he answered stoically.
"Anything juicy?"
"She sends her assistant on errands whenever she talks to her boyfriend. When she does call him by name, it's Gene, but that's all I've been able to discern about him."
"Honestly, if I had an assistant, and a boyfriend, I'd probably tell him to leave if I wanted to talk, too," she pointed out as she turned around and leaned against the back of the chair. "Anyway, are you sure that it's her boyfriend? Maybe it's some sort of underworld contact."
His finger pressed a button and a bar traced along a pair of lines as sound emerged from the computer, beginning with a weary, masculine voice.
"Heya, Brie."
"Hey yourself, dearest. How's my handsome, rugged man doing?"
"Well, everything hurts, so I guess that means I'm alive."
"You make it sound like such a chore."
"When I'm away from you, it is."
"Ooh, you charmer," she gave a throaty chuckle. "Well, hurry back to mummy and let her soothe all your aches and pains."
"Have I ever told you that I absolutely love your accent?"
"All Americans do, dearest. Speaking of things you love, would you like to know what I'm wearing?"
"I'd be much more interested in knowing what you're not wearing."
"Humor me."
"Fine. Fine. What are you wearing?"
"Well, I have this delicious little-"
The voices suddenly fell silent and Batgirl flushed as she muttered, "Thanks for that. I'm fairly certain my face matches my hair now."
"If it is some kind of code, I haven't cracked it. You're welcome to try. Their talks don't coincide with any shipments or any specific sort of crime being pulled off. However, they did abruptly cease communication roughly five days ago without any apparent reason. And now she's leaving tonight on a cruise, in celebration of her company's revitalization."
"And you're going on the cruise to keep an eye on her while I follow in the Batboat. Oh, no, wait! The Batplane! Yes. Awesome plan."
"I was under the impression that you had school tomorrow," he said as he stood and closed his jacket.
"Oh, c'mon!" she pleaded as she darted in front of him. "Look, I've already had over eight years of perfect attendance. Despite what dad says, I think that I can handle missing a day or two."
"You can go ahead and convince him of that," he said as strong fingers struggled with the red accoutrement.
"I'll tie that for you if you let me come along," she said after watching him for a moment. His narrowed gaze, not yet a glare, caused her to step back as he strode towards the elevator. She quickly followed after him, jumping in as the doors closed and looked up at him as they began to ride upwards.
"Just for a little bit? I promise I'll be back in time for school."
"No."
"Oh, come on!" she urged.
"No."
"Please?"
"Yes."
"Pretty, pretty, pretty plea - wait, what was that?"
"No. I don't know how long this will take. I'm going to need somebody I can trust here in Gotham to keep an eye on things."
"Ah, gee. Flattery? You know that will get you everywhere," she grumbled as she crossed her arms over her chest and glanced away. The doors slid open to admit them to a long staircase that Bruce climbed without any trouble, taking several stairs at a time as Batgirl tried to keep up. They emerged through a narrow doorway, outwardly disguised as a cloak, and were greeted by a thin, dapper man.
"Master Bruce, are you finally ready?" Alfred asked.
"I'm leaving the bow tie behind," he said as he removed the piece of cloth from about his neck.
"You will do nothing of the sort. It is part of the ensemble."
"I can tell you thirteen different ways to be incapacitated or even executed with your own bow tie."
"And I can tell you twenty-seven ways it could save your life and limb."
There was a silent battle of wills that Batgirl watched with rapt fascination as Alfred stared down the man who had faced the worst of Gotham and beyond. He was significantly outclassed, appearing exceptionally reedy before his muscular employer, but he did not waver. His gaze remained level under the cold blue stare that haunted the sleep of criminals everywhere until something finally gave. She could not identify the exact source, but Bruce suddenly relaxed, as much as he would ever allow himself to, and rolled his eyes slightly though he bit back a groan.
Victorious, Alfred smiled and strode forward to quickly and efficiently knot the tie. As he did so, he scolded, "Miss Gordon, I believe I've warned you several times to keep those boots off my carpet. I don't wish to know what you go traipsing through at night at the best of times, but I would very much rather not have it seeping into the rug."
"Sorry," she repented quickly and tried to reduce the contact of her sole with the ground, rising onto her toes.
"Alfred will assist you while I'm gone," he warned her. "He'll be running mission control for the both of us."
"And in more extreme cases, I must say that I do look rather dashing in the Robin costume," he added as he finished his knot and stepped back to admire his work. He gave a satisfied nod as Batgirl blinked in surprise at what she hoped was a joke before wincing at the image her mind summoned forth.
"You're an evil man, Mr. Pennyworth," she accused.
"The worst," Bruce assured her as he tugged at the bow tie, attempting to loosen it about his neck.
"So it's been said," he acknowledged. "Now, come, Master Bruce. Your chariot awaits."
"More like my ferry," he returned.
"Oh, that comes much later, Master Bruce."
"Well, you two have fun. I guess I'll just go keep an eye on the city," she interjected morosely and slouched away.
"She would have made a wonderful addition to my theatre group," Alfred observed. "She puts such emotion into her roles."
"She certainly has the dramatic flair for it," Bruce noted dryly as they made their way to the front of the grand estate. He opened the door and strode towards the sleek car idling in the extensive driveway, its shape nearly lost in the shadows. Alfred bustled forth to beat him to the rear door and opened it for him, bowing slightly as he waved him in, and he bit back a seat as he slid into the roomy back. A moment later, the lean man entered the driver's seat and the car roared into wakefulness as it smoothly shifted from its parked state.
As they began the winding path down the hill that Wayne Manor perched upon, Bruce began to compose himself for the upcoming party. In his early years, it had taken acting lessons from Alfred to act accordingly in social situations, creating the guise of a playboy and serial philanderer. He lacked the usual regiment of beauties stationed about him when he went to such events, but he had a glib mark in mind about fishing while out at sea. Without the need to engage in prattle, he took to staring out the windows, watching as the forest gave way to Gotham's suburbs until they surrendered to the dark kingdom.
In his distant memory, he remembered a time when the gothic spires and the cluttered alleys between had seemed lighter, simply the facets of a city instead of fortresses and dens of greed and corruption. Thomas Wayne had loved Gotham, had believed it could shine brighter than Metropolis, and he had done all within his power to realize that vision. He had shared this belief with his son, and had shown him the unrefined wonders of the city before his tragic end, and Bruce had lost all sight of what his father had seen. The selfless advancements that Thomas had strove for were torn away by men who saw Gotham merely as a means to their own enrichment. When Bruce had returned to Gotham, he had thought the only way to save it was to topple the criminal empires that warred for the shadowed kingdom.
Eventually, he had realized the potency of his father's plans. Clinics, shelters, and other services for the destitute and the downtrodden helped them realize that something more could be made of their lives. Rehab centers helped men and women battle whatever addictions had ceased them, and schools fought to arm their students with an education for a life better than that of a simple thug. Without these, he could thwart any number of mob bosses, killers, and madmen, but the city would only plunge back into the same tyranny of the people did not choose to save themselves.
A rare smile crossed Bruce's faces as he stared out the window at a group of children playing basketball in a lot as their parents watched and cheered them on, free of the shackles of fear.
He closely monitored crime within Gotham and small-time crimes, break-ins, muggings, and their simple ilk, were declining. People were reclaiming their homes, chasing out the drug dealers and driving away the enforcers and collection agents, demanding money for their so-called protection, who lurked within their realms. Gang tags and propaganda sprayed upon walls were disappearing under grand works of urban art and a strange spirit had entered the men and women of the shadowy metropolis, a sense of pride in their home.
The buildings began to shrink and demonstrate greater refinement, built hundreds of years ago and still standing proudly. Crime had never been obvious in Gotham's upper end, buried in money that could convince almost any official of the law to turn a blind eye, but even its subtle activities were dwindling. Gangsters and crime lords had occupied the demesne, but their hold was slipping. They were ousted from their penthouses and regal abodes, replaced by a new elite of legitimate businessmen and philanthropists.
As the car made several more turns, Bruce finally found himself at the harbor and he secured his somber thoughts behind a mask of a cocky smile as Alfred emerged and moved with an efficient gait to open his employer's door. Emerging from the vehicle, he was immediately bombarded with flashes of bright light that would have dazed any not initiated to their glow and an arsenal of questions that he answered with a slight chuckle and a wave of his hand. Behind him, Alfred opened the trunk and passed his luggage to one of the deckhands who loaded it aboard his cart. Striding through the gauntlet of reporters and paparazzi, he made several short exchanges, including his comment about fishing at sea, before boarding the ramp.
Sharply dressed waiters and waitresses expertly prowled through the crowds, ensuring that no champagne glass was empty for long, and one of them was pressed into his hand with impressive speed. His name rang out across the deck and soon became echoed by others as familiar faces from past parties and events pressed about him. He laughed heartily and suppled the customary pleasantries and courtesies, gazed the appropriate amount of time at the women in dazzling dresses before paying the appropriate compliments. A man approached him, requesting to see his ticket, which he presented with a flourish before returning to his wildly spun story, illustrating it with grand gestures that effectively drained his glass without him ingesting any.
He felt a pair of eyes upon the back of his neck and he turned to find Brianna Edwards standing still amongst the crowd, studying him. Draped over her curvy form was a shimmering dress of blue that shifted as the light hit it, moving in gradients that gave it the image of water. White ruffles frothed at her ankles and they swayed as she shifted and sauntered forward on pink heels, her introspective gaze shifting into her regular predatory smirk.
"Bruce. It's nice ta finally see you somewhere outside of work," she said as she extended a hand towards him. He caught the slim fingers and lifted them to brush his lips over her knuckles.
"I believe the pleasure is all mine. You look absolutely stunning," he praised as he lifted his gaze. She preened at the compliment and performed a small twirl for him, demonstrating the snug fit of the dress.
"Thank you for noticing. You look rather dashing yourself," she returned, her eyes roving blatantly over his broad-shouldered frame. "I'm surprised not to see your arms adorned with all sorts of little sweeties. Maybe your charms aren't as legendary as I've been led ta believe?"
He grinned at her and waved an arm towards the crowd that filled the deck of the luxurious craft.
"I figured that it'd be sporting to give the other gentlemen a chance."
"Hah!" she gave a bark of laughter before sliding next to him. Her arm looped with his own and she offered, "In that case, I'll help you stay off the market for a bit. In return, you can introduce me ta all your friends and the movers and shakers of Gotham."
Hooking her arm securely within his own, he offered another smile and nodded his head, "Gladly, milady."
Premiani Penthouse. 0047 Hours, 26 AUGUST 2014
Heavy footsteps cracked against the tiled floor in worried haste, crossing over to the carpet and scouring the rest of the rooms. Returning from the bathroom, Cash cast another glance about the room in hope that he had missed something before he gave a low rumbling growl. Tugging at his cap, he stormed towards the door, throwing it open with unnecessary force, which went undiminished as his leg lashed out, kicking it shut behind him. As though wary of similar treatment, the elevator opened to admit him without any dally and he stomped into the lift that groaned at his weight before obediently closing. It began its much too slow, in his opinion, descent, but he used the time it granted to, again, attempt calling Alondra. And, again, the line rang before transferring him to her chiming voice inviting him to leave a message before he snarled and cancelled the call.
The doors opened and a group of amicably chatting Carogne Uccelli, their beaked masks hanging about their necks and their hoods pulled down, paused in their entry to stare at the grim-faced figure looming within the elevator. He quirked a brow at their hesitation and growled, "Do you intend to philander or are you going to enter?"
"I, um . . . you know what? We should take the stairs. Work off some of Greg's pudge." The woman amongst the trio flung her hand into the armored paunch of her towering comrade who grunted on instinct. He swung his head towards her, hurt welling in his eyes, but a swift glare shushed him as the woman retreated, pulling her comrades with her.
"Most sagacious of you." The doors closed quickly, nearly catching the foot of one of the group as Cash made another call, marginally pleased when it was answered.
"This is Dr. Sanders. If this is about the . . . outstanding debts, I promise that -"
"It's Cash. Inform me that the boss babe is within your proximity."
"Ms. Arnetti? I'm happy to say that I haven't laid eyes on our employer for the past several days. Though I was under the impression that doing so was your job."
"She abdicated my guardianship for reasons undiscerned."
"Have you checked the bottom of a bottle?"
A low growl reverberated from the disgraced doctor's cellphone and he removed it from his face, staring at it warily as his coworker's voice lashed from it.
"Cease your epigrams and convert efforts towards pinpointing the boss babe or you shall be interchanging your cane for a wheelchair."
"You don't mean -"
Cutting off the call, Cash stood pensively for a moment as the elevator finally opened, admitting him to the parking garage that he stormed through as he accessed his phone once again. On the second ring, it was picked up and a clear, strong voice emerged from it.
"Hello?"
"Are you aware of the whereabouts of the boss babe?"
Krahen hesitated, face scrunching up before she cautiously asked, "Mr. Cash?"
"Boss babe. Whereabouts. Administer."
"I-I - she's missing? How could she be missing? Can't you -"
"The only possible reasoning behind her absence is if it is voluntary. Judging by your ignorance of the situation, I'm presuming she's not in your presence. Rectify this posthaste."
"Ho - wha - where would I even being? I mean, she can handle herself, can't she?"
"She . . . boss babe has . . ." Cash faltered as he stood beside the door of the dark, burly SUV that loitered in the parking light, his eyes losing focus for a second as his hand hovered by the handle of the door. Shaking his head, he pulled the door opened and dropped into the seat, causing the vehicle to rock at his sudden weight. "Disregard your inquiries. Begin your search. Dedicate focus towards rathskellers and other establishments encouraging inebriation."
"I - you - what?"
"The -" He paused as he started the car, closing his eyes for a moment as he clenched his fist, unable to still the tremors in it before finally managing to release his group.
"Bars," he seethed. "Scour. The. Bars."
"Oh. Right. That's - I'll be -"
Canceling the call, he pulled from his lot and sped towards the exit, roaring out onto the street, cutting cleanly into traffic. His glance slid to the side as the screen came to life, highlighting the bars and clubs of the city and he traced a finger along the streets. Scanning the establishments, he found the one that he had traced her cellphone too and plotted a course towards it. He paid little heed to the cars screeched to a halt as they suddenly found themselves faced with a red light, some only feet away from him as he sailed through the intersections. Cutting a tight corner, he rumbled down an empty side street that merged into a parking lot filled with sleek, expensive cars. Stopping in the middle of the lot, he cut off the engine and shoved the door open, dropping to the ground before storming forward.
The partygoers whispered and pointed at the crude figure who seemed intent upon ignoring the line at the door. As he neared, the bouncer standing there scowled and moved to intercede the man, placing a large, worn palm against his chest.
"Whoa, there, buddy. Where are you rushing to?"
Rooted in surprise at the audacity of the man, Cash wiped the gape from his face and fixed his electric blue glare upon the powerfully built man who was still dwarfed by his bulk.
"My patron resides within your establishment. Remove the barricade you present to my destination and retain the usage of all your extremities. For the foreseeable future."
". . . What?"
Dropping his head back, Cash voiced his displeasure with a brief growl before grabbing the bouncer's tight shirt and hauling him into the air. He shuddered as he restrained himself from further violence and merely tossed the man inside before striding forward, throwing open the doors and nearly breaking the nose of the young woman who had been making her way towards the exit. She skittered about him fearfully as he cast his gaze about the club, eyes searching the brief flashes of light for the lithe figure he had memorized. When it did not immediately become apparent, he trampled deeper into the room, shoving through the crowd that writhed to the pounding music. They would turn to snap at him, but most retained enough of their senses to turn back around at the sight of the giant wading through them.
Certain that she was not upon the dance floor, he made his way to the tables that ringed the area where his gaze fell upon a small silvery purse. Barreling forward, interrupting an inanely chattering cluster of women garbed in glittering swathes of fabric that aspired to be dresses, he grabbed the purse and rifled through it despite the protests at his intrusion. Finally his thick fingers touched upon a phone and they quickly twisted about it, pulling it from the confines of the purse victoriously. Its screen displayed a large family, all purposefully dressed in cheesy Christmas sweaters, huddled together as they beamed at the camera, save for the wizened woman leading the crowd who merely glared at the one who had captured her image, visually promising a painful death.
Snapping his gaze upward, Cash pressed against the table again and demanded, "The woman who typically retains possession of this reticule - divulge her location posthaste."
His voice emerging over the din of the club, he drew their wide-eyed stares and scowls towards himself though neither of them spoke. Eventually, a slender brunette broke the relative silence, her gaze uncertain.
"Ummm . . . You want us to what?"
"He wants us to tell him where the woman who owns that purse went." The busty blonde spoke evenly as she brazenly fixed the looming man with a glare, her courage only marginally bolstered by alcohol. "Without so much as a 'please.'"
"Perhaps if I had the chronological allotment to waste upon such pleasantries, I would dawdle upon them. Also, I do not. Now, inquiry. Reciprocate."
The woman maintained her scowl, swaying only slightly as she crossed her arms under her heavy bosom before she finally snapped, "There wasn't anybody here when we came over. We didn't even notice the purse until you grabbed it. Nobody else has come by looking for it. Happy?"
"No. But, gramercy."
Not wasting time on a farewell, he stalked away from the table, shoving his way through the crowd until he finally burst from the doorway, startling the bouncer who hurried out of his way. Marching to his car, he slung himself into the car and sat still for a moment, resting his forearms on the steering wheel. His fists clenched, digging into his palms and he was only stopped at the sound of cracking, drawing his attention to the phone still in his grasp. He frowned as he uncurled his fingers, staring at the broken device lying in his grip and his mouth pulled into a short grimace before he tossed the phone in the seat beside him and started the car.
The hour passed quickly as Cash prowled through the clubs, soon followed by a second and then a third. His only breaks came in communications with Krahen, comparing notes before setting out once again, outlining his planned destinations and ensuring that they weren't overlapping. As the night wore on, his frustration rose and the bouncers, in uncommon wisdom, stopped trying to block his way - without reinforcements. Numbers did nothing to save them and the bodyguard passed over their crumpled forms without ever breaking stride, passing them again when his search proved fruitless.
Beneath the mounting rage was an equally growing sense of worry and his grip upon the steering wheel threatened to tear it from its mounting. He swerved dangerously through the traffic, neglecting the others upon the road in favor of focusing on finding Alondra, pushing away the grim images that tried to worm their way into the forefront of his mind. Ideas of her limp form tossed into the canal, wrapped in trash bags and weighted with stones flashed his eyes and he shook his head in an attempt to dismiss it. Another vision took its place, her skin, paler than usual, standing in stark contrast to the eruption of red in the center of her forehead. Glassy eyes, registering shock, seemed to fix and follow upon him with an almost accusatory stare.
With a pained howl, he swung his car over, haphazardly sliding through several lanes to screech to a halt in a parking space along the sidewalk. Shifting into park, he dropped his forehead against the steering wheel's handle and took a moment to gather himself when his phone chimed. He answered, his voice tired and weary as he refused to lift his head.
"You've contacted Cash. Commence discourse."
"Guessing that means 'talk.' It's Krahen. I've found her."
His head rocketed up and a hand closed about the wheel as he demanded, "Where?"
"Some club called Heaven's Gate. It's -"
"I've located it."
"I'll keep an eye on her, but you . . . you should probably hurry."
"Indubitably."
Ending the call, he slung his car into a turn, a pair of wheels coming off the ground and landing heavily back upon it as he shifted his weight. Anything not secured in the vehicle slid about wildly, going airborne as he bounded in the air upon exiting a broad pothole. His heavy boot nearly pushed the gas pedal to the floor, making minuscule use of its partner, and horns blared all around him outside his vehicle as he careened through the streets. Glancing to the map that struggled to keep pace with him, he tore along the highlighted route until his goal came into sight.
With the parking spaces filled, he slid through a pair of them and screeched to a halt upon the sidewalk, eliciting a shriek from a colorfully dressed couple who managed to leap out of the way. They screeched at him as he parked the car and shoved past them, long strides delivering him to the door of the club where a pair of men who managed to outsize even him barred his entry. Without slowing, he threw an arm about the neck of one and pulled him down, slamming his knee into the man's nose before casting him to the ground where he howled as he tried to staunch the flood of blood. Ducking under the fist thrown at his head, Cash delivered a pair of swift punches to the man's ribcage, producing a sharp crack with each blow.
The beefy gatekeeper grunted but grabbed Cash's jacket, tugging on it and forcing him to bow, jostling the knit cap. Cash's eyes widened before his arms shot up, breaking the larger man's grip and forcing him back. Face twisted into a hideous grimace, Cash lashed out with his boot, driving his heel into his opponent's knee, pushing it in a direction it was not designed to go.
Fingers clenched tightly enough to tear skin, he slammed his fist across the man's face, staggering him and causing him to drop back against the wall. Lowering his shoulder, he slammed into him, driving the air from his lungs before pulling back far enough to pummel him. Any who would have interceded upon the scene held back at the raw display of violence until the bouncer sunk to the ground, blood bubbling from his lips as he struggled to breathe. Standing over him for a moment, Cash gave a sharp tug on his cap and stepped over the downed man to shove open the door to the club. He scowled at the flashing lights and thrashing forms upon the floor as he started forward, pushing through them. A touch landed upon his shoulder, which he failed to notice until it tugged sharply, taking him by surprise and almost turning him.
"CASH!" He looked down to find Krahen at his side, her usual armor traded for utilitarian clothes and a light, red leather jacket. She nodded her head towards the bar and shouted over the music once again. "SHE'S OVER THERE. I HAVEN'T MADE AN APPROACH YET. I FIGURED YOU'D -"
"You're fine," he grumbled as he slipped from her grip, shouldering his way through the crowd. His near luminescent gaze scanned the crowd loitering about the gaudy bar, each bottle lit from the bottom by lights installed in the shelves. The counter released a bright, white glow and was ringed by a pink line, making those in its vicinity slightly more discernible. Many faced the bartender, a woman with an Amazonian physique who was quick to offer a smile around the piercing looped in her lip.
Cash's glance passed quickly through the crowd before landing upon a lithe figure in a silver-sequined dress leaning back against the target as she nursed a glass of cloudy drink. Her garment hung from her shoulders, plunging past her modest cleavage and almost to her belly button, leaving a large swath of pale flesh revealed in a V. It shimmered in the shifting lights as it glided down her lean figure, molding to it.
Her comely legs were bared to the grateful world, the hem of her dress skimming along her thighs, dangerously high and he desperately hoped that she hadn't attempted to bend over at any time throughout the evening. She balanced upon a pair of short heels that matched her dress and she had released her hair, allowing it to tumble about her shoulders, hiding part of her face as she smirked coyly at the men who had flocked about her. One sycophant, a young man with handsome, chiseled features, pressed dangerously close to her side, fingers capturing a lock of her hair as he leaned in to whisper something that provoked a rich laugh from her.
Cash's scowl threatened to rip beyond his face and he stormed forward with greater violence, trampling over anybody who lacked the wit or agility to dodge his stampede. As people shouted after his passing, Alondra swung her head towards the commotion and the glimmer in her eye immediately dimmed as she took a sip from her drink. The man lurking at her shoulder followed her gaze and whispered to her again, fingers skimming along the pale skin of her shoulder. He pulled back - not nearly far enough - as Cash came to a halt before the small group, most of whom dispersed at the sight of wrath bearing down upon them.
Alondra stood her ground, choosing to neglect the massive man who glared down at her in favor of calling to the bartender for a refill on her drink. Cash waited, seething, as she watched her take a long sip from her refilled glass while the man at her side eyed him like he was some sort of interesting specimen at a zoo. Finally, the dark-haired woman put the glass down and sighed, still refusing to look to her bodyguard.
"What do you want, Cashy?"
His scowl narrowed, catching a slight slur as she spoke and he folded his arms over his chest as he fixed her with a pointed gaze. "To be elucidated upon the reasoning of my employer that she found it prudent to slip her protection when she is so . . . endangered."
"God, would you stop with all that mierda? You aren't convincing anybody that you're smarter than you look." Her gaze snapped towards him, the eye not hidden behind the tangle of her hair blazing with indignation. A small chuckle arose from her companion and Cash allowed him the briefest of the glowers before turning it back upon Alondra.
"And there is likely higher concentration of alcohol in your bloodstream than some of those bottles," he fired back.
"So? What do you care? 'Cause, honestly, you don't look like my daddy." She pushed off from the bar to snarl at him, thrusting a finger in his face, but stumbled, nearly losing her balance completely in the sudden flurry of motion. He instinctively reached out to catch her only for his hands to be smacked away and she used the assault to balance herself.
He hesitated, his expression losing some of its edge that was replaced by a soft sadness and he dropped his hands to his side again.
"My solicitude is derived from what I had thought sodality."
"Well, my friend." The man finally spoke aloud in an exotic accent, sidling up next to Alondra and looping an arm about her waist in an overly-familiar manner. She leaned into him though it was unclear whether it was the support or the companionship she sought. "It appears the dear lady wants neither your solicitations nor your sodality."
"Sovereign in our hopefully brief discourse, we are not comrades in any variation of the word. Furthermore, there are matters at work here well exceeding your ken, so kindly abdicate any position you had considered occupying and disperse - before you undergo the acquisition of several supplementary orifices." The rage was back, consuming the touch of sorrow like kindling before an inferno but the man, instead of being rightfully intimidated, merely appeared amused at the towering figure.
"You can howl and froth all you want, friend, but I'm afraid the decision is out of your hands. And mine." He inclined his head towards Alondra who hung upon him, eyes half-lidded and struggling to stay open even under the roar of the music.
"Refer to me as 'friend' any further and I shall see you so finely eviscerated that a wood chipper would find itself shamed for generations to come," he warned as Alondra suddenly lurched forward and threw her weight into a palm that sailed through the air before crashing against her bodyguard's craggy cheek. She retracted it, clutching it and thankful for the numbing effect of the alcohol as she grimaced at the stunned man.
"If you don't stop threatening Ramón, I'll -"
He never learned her full intentions as she suddenly turned paler than usual, freezing before vomiting all over her protector who raised his hands before dropping them uselessly. Ramón quickly separated from the woman, smug expression shifting to disgust, a look echoed by others nearby who pulled back while simultaneously drawing their phones. Her evening's refreshments spilled upon Cash and the floor, Alondra lifted her head, looking about with glittering eyes at the crowd gathered about the spectacle. She sniffed, her lip trembling as a line of spittle hung from it before a heavy jacket, somehow free of any of her puke, was suddenly thrown over her thin shoulders, nearly swallowing her, and she turned her miserable look up towards Cash.
"Inclined towards departure now?"
She answered his query with a nod, sniffling again, and huddling against his side as he wrapped an arm consolingly about her shoulders while scouring the crowd.
"Krahen!" The blonde pushed through the people struggling with their phones at his bark, eyeing Alondra before her focus was drawn upward. "Appropriate a transport or provide your own. Our embarkation is underway."
"How have you not been shot for the way you talk?" Her answer was provided in a glare and she threw her hands up defensively. "Right, sorry. If I'm right, you want me to take you this way."
Diving into the crowd, she pushed and elbowed her way to a side exit as Cash followed in her wake, Alondra clinging to his side even as they passed from the club into the cool night once again. A sleek, black car awaited them in the alley and Krahen pulled open a door to the backseat, allowing Cash to reach inside and gingerly set Alondra upon the seat. He retracted only for her to suddenly reach out, grabbing his finger and he obediently stilled as she looked up to him.
"M' s-s-suh . . ." she struggled forming her muttered words, eyes drooping again. "M' . . . m' surry, Cashy."
He stared at her for a moment, his mouth a flat line, before he nodded, "Apology accepted. You've restored me when I have crumbled to pieces. I would be remiss not to return the favor."
"Mmm," she hummed, rolling back and closing her eyes. "Shtill wish . . . y'won' talk . . . Wouldn't talk like that."
He chuckled and patted her gently upon the shoulder before he withdrew, looking towards the waiting Krahen.
"So, what now?"
"You deliver us to the Premiani building, maintain discretion, and envision yourself properly rewarded once her stupor has dissipated."
"'Us?'"
"Some may have taken . . . issue with my parking. And treatment of the bouncers. Authorities are on their way. I will be riding in company of the boss babe."
"How often does this happen?"
He paused and cocked his head at her. "Pardon?"
"This. Her bender. You seem pretty use to it. How many times has it happened before?"
He opened his mouth to offer retort but instead closed it, turned his head as though listening to something, and then turned back to her. "We should depart posthaste."
"Fine. You want some paper towels or something?" She nodded to his shirt and he followed her gaze to the ugly stain upon his shirt and his mouth pulled into a grimace at it. Tugging on his hat, he pulled the loose hanging shirt over his head and Krahen's eyes widened as he lobbed it in the trash, fixated upon his torso. "Guess that answers a few questions, huh?"
He gave a small growl as he straightened his cap and wiped off the flecks of regurgitation on his jeans before clambering into the car, which shifted and groaned at his entry. Sliding next to Alondra, who hovered at the very edge of sleep, he allowed her to nuzzle close to him and draped an arm about her as he pulled the door shut. Krahen circled about the vehicle, taking up the driver's seat and starting the car, cleanly pulling into the street. In her rearview, she saw the flash of blue and red that proved Cash's concern before her gaze shifted to the man who consolingly rubbed her back, murmuring assurances to the sickly woman.
The entire ride back, she traded between watching the road and her passengers, remaining silent despite the questions now bubbling within her.
So, for anybody still reading this, we aren't trying to focus so little on the Titans. However, this chapter was already long enough and Alondra's subplot is going to be relatively important. Anyway, we hope you enjoyed and we'd like to apologize for our absence! We should be back to publishing regularly.
Anyway, thanks for the reviews and please see fit to leave us more!