Disclaimer: Nothing's mine but the plot, Neo, Nemo, and to some degree Rush! And the clones and Methuss belong to a friend of mine! So there!
'God, I missed this!' He thought as he swerved neatly to avoid crashing into (or rather, running over) some random civilian who was trying to cross the street.
The arms around his waist tightened.
"D'you think you could at least TRY not to—" The Sorceress cut herself off with a gasp as he drove the bike up a convenient ramp (it was actually a wooden wheelbarrow of some sort that some citizen was getting ready to load with various produce), reveling in the rush he got as they flew through the air before landing easily.
"Sorry, darling, what was that you were saying?" He asked with a smirk, though of course she couldn't see it—he got the feeling when she pinched him she knew he was smirking anyhow.
"I was saying be careful, you idiot!" She snapped irritably.
"I am being careful—we haven't hit anything yet, have we?"
"Yet?"
"Calm down, darling. Honestly, you fly all the time but you're scared of a little bike ride?"
"It's a very big bike and you're going way too fast for comfort, not to mention you seem bent on giving me—or some innocent civilian—a heart attack!"
"Darling, I'm not going fast at all. And I would never try to give you a heart attack!"
"You're going nearly 200 miles per hour! And quit calling me darling!"
He chuckled. "Only 200? I must be getting slow in my old age, or rusty from my time with you Titans." He sighed sarcastically. "Surely you fly faster than this sometimes?"
"Yes, but I'm in complete control of that!"
"Well, I'm in complete control of this! Relax and enjoy the ride…and let's not forget the rush."
"If we get out of this alive, I'll kill you." She hissed.
"I'll die happy then, darling." He couldn't help but say.
She pinched him again. "I said stop calling me darling!"
"Actually, you said you'd kill me if we get—" A third pinch interrupted him, and he jiggled the handle a little so that the bike swerved just enough to make the Sorceress' arms tighten all the more around him.
"Rush, stop tormenting Raven." Came Cyborg's amused but scolding voice.
"Aww…spoilsport." He mumbled.
"You're awfully…cheerful, aren't you?" The Original asked curiously.
"Hey, we're finally doing something I'm familiar with. All that saving people was driving me crazy! Now I'm on familiar ground." He replied.
"You're feeling no pressure at all, are you?" The Sorceress sighed.
"Well, getting nervous does more harm than good on life-or-death jobs like this. Besides, I've been doing this for a long time. I'm self-trained to be calm at all times."
"Infuriating is what you are."
"Now, now, darling, you're going to hurt my feelings."
"Stop calling me that before I banish you to another dimension."
"Uptight, much? Relax, Raven, amazingly after ten years I know what I'm doing."
A sigh was his only response.
He couldn't help but laugh again, hoping that his pseudo-calm demeanor was helping to loosen up his new partners in crime, which it seemed to be doing—even the empathetic Sorceress didn't seem to be as edgy as she had been earlier.
The truth of it was: he was a nervous wreck…just like he was before any other heist. No matter how many heists he pulled, he always felt that familiar uneasy tug on his stomach as he started, though it disappeared once he got swept up into the rush. All arrogance and seemingly egotistical words aside, he was really very insecure about his work. A strict perfectionist, even the slightest indefinite variable in his plans often had him starting over from scratch or even scrapping an idea entirely, though in the back of his mind he knew from past experience he could pull off anything.
But then again, it had been said that being nervous was a sign that you really loved something, and if that was true he dearly loved being a thief—which he knew he did, of course.
As they entered Bludhaven, he slowed his bike to just above the speed limit (an agonizing 55 mile per hour pace), immediately feeling the Sorceress settle down almost completely.
"Happy now, darling?" He asked, allowing some disappointment at having to slow down seep into his voice.
"I'd be happier if you would stop calling me darling." She grumbled.
"Alright, alright, fine…I'll stop. But I won't be happy about it." He pouted.
He heard Cyborg and the Original laugh, while the Sorceress just snorted.
"Okay, everyone, here we are." He said finally, pulling to a stop in a familiar alley beside a very familiar apartment complex.
"Where exactly is 'here'?" The Original asked as the small black car they'd borrowed from the Businessman pulled into the alley beside them.
"This is Tandi's apartment." He replied as he and the Sorceress dismounted the motorcycle and removed their helmets, hanging his on the handlebars while the Sorceress set hers in the seat.
"Oh." The Original grimaced.
"I thought you didn't come back to Bludhaven after Tandi was killed?" The Sorceress asked.
"I didn't. But I bought the complex from Methuss…though he had no idea who I was, of course. And I'll go ahead and warn you: I never had anyone clean up or anything, so I don't know what it'll look like."
"A'ight. Let's go." Cyborg said, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it comfortingly.
He smirked, once again belying his discomfort. "Right." He agreed, leading the way inside…and almost immediately stopped and put a hand against the doorway to steady himself.
It wasn't that it smelled like dead bodies or something…in fact, he might have found that more comforting than the sight that met his eyes.
It was exactly as he remembered it…even the blood stains remained, some spurts still slung across the wall, though it didn't particularly surprise him that the police hadn't bothered to clean the blood up (this was Bludhaven, after all).
"My God…" He heard the Original whisper—apparently the others were surprised.
"Will you be okay, Red?" Cyborg asked, though his voice sounded strangely distant.
"I just...need a minute..." He replied, his throat closing up around the words so that they came out rather strained. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, only vaguely aware of the sound of the Sorceress reciting her infamous chant, though when he reopened his eyes he did notice that the stains had been covered by blankets. He shot her a grateful look, which she may or may not have noticed as he was walking into the room before he could gauge her reaction, or lack thereof.
"Do you think one of Methuss' spies spotted us?" The Sorceress asked.
He shrugged, glad that someone had brought something up that would take his attention of the apartment and the memories therein. "It might be better if they did."
"Why?" The Original asked.
"And I swear to Azar if you say something about the rush…" The Sorceress began threateningly.
He chuckled. "No, no, nothing to do with that, I promise. If Methuss knows we're here, it'll set him on edge. He'll up security, add more guards…"
"How is that a good thing?" The Original asked confusedly.
"The more security he has, the easier this will be."
"How do you figure that?" Cyborg asked.
"Because with more guards around—new guards—there will be less of a chance of you guys being noticed, since they'll mistake you as some new guards once your suits are programmed for their uniforms. Plus, the guards will know something is up, which will make them more tense—the more tense you are, the more likely you are to overlook the very things you're looking for. That's one of the kid's problems." He smirked. "It's also the reason he didn't realize who I am until Starfire spilled the beans."
"Oh?" The Sorceress asked.
"Yeah. Loath though I am to admit it, I didn't really do a good job of concealing who I was, seeing as you and Cy figured me out so fast. No offense, you understand, it's just that if I'd been doing my job right, then at the very least it would've taken you longer to catch on."
"But you have no doubts that you'll be able to make yourself a convincing employee?"
"Of course not." He waved her off, using his other hand to knock over a dusty picture frame so he didn't have to look at Tandi and Kylan's smiling faces. "I've stolen from enough of them to know how business-types and their employees act. That's a piece of cake even for me—I don't claim to be some kind of master actor. Heck if I know how a new superhero is supposed to act."
Cyborg laughed, ruffling his hair. "Our little thief finally admits he can't do something? I'm shocked!" The older man said.
He smirked. "Hey, I never claimed to be perfect at anything…except thieving, that is. When it comes to that I'm the hottest thing around." He said.
"There's the Rush we know." The Original laughed.
"Are you calling me arrogant?" He asked indignantly.
"Yes!" The other three chorused, the two guys bursting into another bout of laughter while the Sorceress just smiled softly before seeming to become bothered by something.
He frowned. "What's up?"
"I was just wondering…doesn't Methuss know who you are? I mean, he knew you were Red X when he called, right?" She inquired.
He nodded. "Yes, of course. I haven't been in Bludhaven since Tandi and Kylan were killed, but Methuss has other branches of his company all over. I've stolen from him more times than I can count, and made sure he knew who I was even after I stole the kid's suit."
"So if he sees you, won't he be able to turn you in or something?"
He smirked and winked cheekily at her. "Nah. What proof does he have? And besides," He adopted a mockingly serious expression (though probably it was difficult to make out around his mask), "The Titans would never go around making friends with criminals. Tsk, tsk, what audacity you have to accuse them of such a thing!" He scolded, wagging a finger at her.
"What if he taped the conversation we had with him over the phone?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
He snorted and waved her off. "What if, what if! What if the sky falls and destroys the planet before Methuss has a chance of doing so with his clone army? There are way too many unknown factors for anything in the world to be certain, except that nothing is certain. That said: there's no point in worrying about it. It's not like we can sit around and do nothing. Besides, he could've doctored the tape or something, right? So no worries, da—Raven."
She sighed. "I suppose…"
"Calm down, Rae." Cyborg said, throwing an arm around her shoulder good-naturedly. "It's a bit backwards, true, but we can trust Red on this one. He knows what he's doing, and he won't let anything happen to us. We'll be fine." The half-robot assured her.
His heart constricted jealously in his chest at the sight of her immediately relaxing at Cyborg's words, in spite of the fact that he had said much the same thing several times over.
"So then, I guess we should go to bed now?" The Original asked.
"Yeah." He nodded stiffly in agreement. "You guys should get some sleep."
"Us? What about you?" Cyborg asked.
"I'll be keeping watch." He said as he sat in the very windowsill he had hidden under as a child.
"You need to sleep, too, master thief or not." The Sorceress said, putting a fist on her hip.
He shook his head. "Nah, I can stay up for three days straight before it starts effecting me."
"More thief training, I suppose?" The Original chortled.
He smiled as sheepishly as he could manage (embarrassment wasn't an emotion he dealt with very often). "Ehm…no, actually, I'm just a very bad insomniac and have grown accustomed to being unable to sleep for long periods of time."
"And when was the last time you slept?" The Sorceress asked suspiciously.
"Yesterday, mother." He replied, holding up a hand. "Thief's honor."
"Thieves don't really have honor, do they?" Cyborg asked.
"Of course we do!" He said indignantly. "We honorably help ourselves to whatever we want."
Cyborg and the Original burst out laughing again.
"Alright, alright." Cyborg said through his laughter.
He wagged a finger at them. "Now: to bed with all of you before I go mommy on your rears." He scolded. "Off with you! Shoo, shoo!"
The other two guys guffawed all the way to one of the bedrooms (Kylan's room, he noted with a nostalgic frown). The Sorceress gave him a hesitant look before following after, disappearing into the remaining room (Tandi's, he supposed).
With a shaky sigh, he curled up in the fetal position on the blanket covering Tandi's long-dried lifeblood, staring with half-lidded eyes at the doorway.
Predictably, and somewhat thankfully, sleep refused to come to him.
(THE RUSH)