AN: Sorry It took so long to update. I have no excuse. But regardless I am now updating two of my three stories today. I'm working on that last one I promise. Let me tell you: This is not the route I though the story would take, but oh how I love Dramatic Irony. I'm sure you will all have "But what about...?" questions and let me assure you, I have not forgotten about them. They will all (hopefully) be addressed in the next chapter. Once again thanks for reading my story. PLEASE REVIEW! Contrary to popular practice, I do enjoy criticism so don't be shy if you would like to address a problem, but please be polite. I will not feed a troll.
This might have been the most time-consuming con the team had ever pulled. Sometimes a con took only a few hours, others took a few days, at max: maybe a week. This con; however, was on day forty-eight and counting. Sophie, of course, had pulled jobs that required much more time, planning and finesse, but her experiences on the team had caused her to become accustomed to the quick pay-offs. This particular con, with Robin's constant babbling and Brandwein's temper, required more patience than Sophie was prepared to give. Unfortunately, Megan Morse was a very patient woman. (Megan Morse, Wally West, Beta Beam: Robin was far to fond of made up words and alliteration in Sophie's professional opinion) Perhaps it was helpful, Sophie reflected, that they were permitted to use the remnants of Dr. Brown's Project Expedition -the blueprint for the two designs were remarkably similar- and it had sped up the process quite nicely. In fact, today was supposed to be the last day of actual construction. After that, all that would be needed was the mythical Orichalcum to power the machine.
Already, the many teams of engineers (supplied by Brandwein) were testing the moving parts of the machinery on an alternate power source to ensure that everything was in working order. As senior supervisor, Sophie, luckily, never had to do any hands-on work, but Megan Morse was expected to be able to relay instructions and troubleshoot technical problems when they occurred. Because of this, Robin's voice had taken up residence in her skull. Always prompting her on answers to questions she couldn't understand, the boy's knowledge concerned Sophie greatly. You didn't learn these things at school. Occasionally, Robin would give tips on the nuances of grifting, always catching himself by saying, "but you already knew that," and sometimes she didn't. (usually when pertaining to the psychology of a violent criminal)
Equally as concerning, was her inability to read Brandwein. Yes, she was able to discern the basics of his psychology and emotion, but beyond that she was stumped. It was like trying to grift a grifter. Luckily she was very good at her job. Sophie had been able to identify two key weaknesses of the CEO: first, Jeremiah Brandwein had a soft spot for sophisticated technology, and second, He believed firmly in the hierarchy of the workplace. He would only talk to her, and very occasionally Hardison, who was only one position lower than her in the laboratory. He had even become friendly to the pair when the "Beta Beam" project was beginning to bear fruit. Sophie had been working hard to use these weaknesses to monopolize Brandwein's time and keep him solely focused on the work rather than on the individuals working.
"Ah, Ms. Morse, and Mr. West," Brandwein approached the pair of fake scientists with wide arms and a large smile in a trusting welcome. "How are things going?"
The question was obviously directed toward Sophie, but it was Hardison that answered. "Very well. The terminal reactor has been installed without incident, and the tri-bladed titanium alloy fans are up and running smoothly." Hardison's smile was blinding. He, unlike Sophie, had rather enjoyed the little bird chirping in his ear. The hacker had only a little experience concerning engineering, but sometimes when Robin would offer advice on how to tweak a design, Hardison would proclaimthe idea's genius and immediately begin it's implementation. Hardison was practically in love with the boy.
"Yes, well when will the device be functional?" Sophie noticed the slight tension in Brandwein's muscles as Hardison spoke. He had not liked being addressed by the man.
"Tomorrow" Sophie interjected quickly cutting off Hardison's answer. "It should be ready for testing and operation tomorrow afternoon."
"Nice Save." Robin's voice whispered through the com's. He had no doubt also witnessed Sophie's observations through the small button camera on her jacket. There was the sound of another person talking on the other side of the com, though Sophie could not make out the words. "Sorry, Miss Sophie, Mr. Hardison, but I gotta' go. Try to stay away from the technical lingo until I get back."
"Great, Ms. Morse, may I speak with you in private for one moment?" Brandwien asked.
"Of, course." She replied.
Brandwein led Sophie to his office, a room she had not visited since the interview. Brandwein closed the door behind him and took his seat behind his desk, motioning for Sophie to join him. The room, as Sophie noticed before, was filled with ten year old expensive furniture; that is to say, the furniture would have been expensive ten years ago but was now just junk. It was a sad reminder of more prosperous times in the company.
"Ms. Morse, I will not lie to you," Brandwein began, placing his hands folded on his desk. "This is not the first teleportation project that I have funded." Sophie faked a look of shock. "Your predecessor's project was...successful to a certain degree, but it's creator met with an unfortunate accident and the project could not be resurrected."
Yes, This is what Sophie had been waiting for: a confession. "Oh my, that's terrible!"
"Yes, absolutely terrible, I agree." Unfortunately, It sounded as if he did. "Regardless, tomorrow, I want to take the most safety and security measures possible, no extra personnel and no observers for the initial testing please. Anyone not necessary to operate the device should be sent home."
No, for the con to work the board of directors needed to be present as they had been at every other project's initial experimentation. What was Brandwein planning? "Of, course." Sophie could not argue. She could not blow her cover now.
Brandwein smiled, and moved to escort her out when a photo placed on Brandwein's desk caught her eye. The photo was of a small boy covered in bandages, burns, and cuts. His short black hair was severely disheveled and his eyes were closed as if he was sleeping or unconscious. The boy was wearing an oxygen mask, but he was clearly not at a hospital. Sophie recognized the clothing. "My God!" She exclaimed barely withholding the anger in her voice. "Who is that?" She did not have to fake concern.
Brandwein, noticing what had caught her attention gently picked up the photo and stared at it. "My son."
His voice was so calm, so even, that Sophie nearly reeled in shock. She could not find any words with which to respond, a first in her long career as a grifter. She listened to his next words carefully, watching his movements like a hawk begging the statement to be false.
"Robert Brandwein, but he always preferred Robin. I'd only just found him." Brandwein was shaking, and so was his voice.
"Wha-What Happened." Sophie could almost feel the world spinning.
"He was kidnapped, I brought him to work one day almost two months ago but there was a break-in, and he disappeared. He was such a bright kid, always tinkering with electronics and playing silly pranks. I'd only known him for a few months. His mother died in childbirth, and I'd been told it was a still-birth. It was through an unfortunate circumstance that we even met. He was in a car-crash, that I witnessed. His foster father was drunk at the wheel. When I realized he was an orphan, I did some digging a-and I found out: he was mine." Tears began to fill the CEO's eyes, and Sophie could not, in her professional opinion, tell if they were fake. "He never much liked me. I wish I had a happier picture with him, but this is the only one I've got."
"I'm sure he'll turn up." Was all Sophie could think to say. Her mind was spinning and she began to feel faint.
She hurried out of the room and practically ran down the hall to the restroom. She stared at the mirror, a mental war between her instincts and her grifting observations waged on in her head. Son or victim, she could not decide. Finally, she pulled herself away from the sink and spoke softly into her earpiece, "Nate, we need to talk."
Robin sat on the barstool swinging his legs nervously. For once, he was not contemplating flipping or performing any other acrobatic feat on the furniture. Something had happened since he'd been forced off the com's earlier by Nate to clean up the prank that had just victimized Eliot. He'd not been alowed to rejoin the converations. The second Hardison and Sophie had returned, the pair had pulled Nate into a separate room sending very concerned looks in Robin's direction. Eliot and Parker must have noticed the odd behavior as well because the pair had ceased their friendly bantering with Robin and digressed into silence waiting for the door to reopen and the rest of the team emerge. Parker was nervously sipping on one of Hardison's orange sodas, and Eliot began to fiddle with the small chess piece in his hand. Finally, the door did open and out emerged a very angry Nate followed by a bewildered hacker and shocked grifter.
"What's going on?" Parker asked catching Hardison's arm as he walked past.
Hardison opened his mouth to answer, but no reply ever emerged. Nate continued to march heavily forward until he was three inches from Robin's face. The room seemed to collapse on the young acrobat. All the attention was solely on him. He could feel Nate's heavy breathing on his face as the man lowered his head to be eye level with the teen. It reminded Robin of the first time he disobeyed Batman's orders. He knew Nate was trying to intimidate him. Robin didn't want to succumb to the man's tactic, but he could not stop the single shiver that ran down his spine as Nate opened his mouth to speak.
"You are Brandwein's son." It was a statement: a fact, read right out of a textbook.
Then, three things happened at once: Parker began to choke on her drink, Eliot snapped the small figurine he was holding, and Robin laughed. He couldn't stop laughing. It was as if the joker had thrown an entire canister of his deadly gas right in Robin's face. Nate had yet to tell a single joke since Robin had arrived almost two moths ago. Robin felt the man was overdue for some laughter and expected some sort of payback for the many pranks he'd pulled over the weeks, but this was ridiculous! Robin laughed so hard that his chair began to fall backwards, but this time nobody caught it. He barely managed to roll away in time to avoid injury. When he stood up, his laughter subsided and the deafening silence returned to the room. No one had moved, and Nate was still staring at him with the heat of fire.
"I am not Brandwein's son." Robin stated with giggles on his lips.
"Don't lie, kid." Hardison said softly. His face expressed absolute betrayal. "I looked it up, Birth certificates, foster care papers, press reports. It's all there. You are Brandwein's son."
Robin's smile slipped. This had to be a joke. There was no way documents like that existed. Hell, He'd only existed in this universe for two months! It wasn't funny.
"You told me your parents were dead." Eliot accused.
"I-I did. They are!" Robin stuttered looking from face to face in desperate search of support. Seriously, someone could shout "fooled ya'!" anytime now. The Joke wasn't funny anymore. "I am NOT Barandwein's son."
"Why didn't you tell us?" Nate demanded. "Do you realize what this means? We've kidnapped you from the person we're trying to take down!"
"What? NO! I'm trying to help you!" Robin's head was spinning. Were They serious? Was this actually happening?
"Did you think that this was playtime: a chance to get back at your daddy for abandoning you? What did you think would happen if we succeeded? This isn't a game." Nate was beginning to yell.
"I'm not Brandwein's son." Robin repeated again crossing his arms and staring down the adult lecturing him.
"Yes you are." Nate's voice was dangerously low. Parker attempted to speak, but Nate quickly shut her down. "Did you honestly think we would buy your 'other-dimension' story?" Then, leaving Robin speechless, Nate addressed the rest of the team. "We need to stop the con, Sophie call there's been a delay or something. Just buy us time. We need to figure this out."
"But Robin was supposed to put the thingy in the teleporter and go home tomorrow." Parker protested.
"Not anymore. We're scrapping the project." Nate pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned against the bar. Robin again tried to protest. How did this even happen? But Nate would have none of it. "Elliot take him upstairs to the bedroom. We need to figure out what to do."
Robin felt Eliot's hand tightly grab his arm a second later and the man began to drag him up the stairs. Robin tried to pull away, but even with Batman's training the hitter was stronger, and his resistance did little but annoy the man. Robin continued to scream "I'M NOT HIS SON!" all the way up the stairs until Eliot pulled him into the bedroom and locked the door, standing guard and staring at the young hero. Robin stared back. If Nate was serious about scrapping the con, then Robin only had one chance to use the teleporter: to get home. Adjusting his utility belt draped over his shoulder, Robin checked for the comforting, familiar weight of the Orichalcum in the front pouch.
There was only one thing in his way.
