Hey, guys, I'm writing reviews for YJ episodes now. Might wanna check that out...hint hint. And, my moronic friend and I have started making video blogs, vlogs, if you will. Basically, it's just going to be us reviewing YJ episodes along with other crap we like. We've only made one so far, and no one's commented so...yeah, mind checking that out? It's called, 'Young Justice Review: Misplaced. WARNING: EXTREME RANDOMNESS' My account name is Randomsocks14, we used mine because my friend doesn't have one. You guys get to guess which one is me, the idiot who keeps looking away from te camera or the idiot who keeps playing with her hair. Seriously, if you at least comment on it and tell me your Fanfiction name I will give you 10,000,000 cool points and devote a chapter to you :D

Review! :D

Why does life have to suck so much?

I sat at a table made of plastic, scowling hatefully at the Dark Knight and Black Canary. They'd brought me to the Hall of Justice, probably just because it was convenient. I refused to believe the Hall was the League's real HQ. Whenever I'd brought this up at school they'd tell me I was stupid, how could it not be their headquarters? The Leaguers appear on TV and say that it's their HQ, so it must be true. Because no one in the League ever lies to anyone, right?

Seriously, guys, common sense: If the Hall was their HQ would the League allow people to stand behind the observation windows, pressing their fat faces against the glass staring at the heroes like they were animals in a zoo. Plus, if the Hall was truly their HQ wouldn't there be more attacks on it?

I took my hands, tied together with zip-ties, and laid them on the table. I did my best to interlock them like the bad guys do in cartoons and tried to look indifferent. A strand of green hair fell into my eyes, I crossed my eyes trying to look at it.

The two Leaguers just sat there, staring at me like some kind of weird creature grown in a government lab.

"So...we just gonna sit here or..." my gaze flickered to the heroes.

"That depends on you..." Batman's stone-cold expression didn't falter. "Are you willing to talk?"

I chuckled, a sound so bitter it even surprised me. "I'm evil, remember? An irredeemable criminal. Why are you even bothering?"

"I don't think you're evil." Canary's words were sympathetic, but her eyes held distrust.

"You're right, I'm just a very naughty girl. I kick puppies, I kill birds with a slingshot and rip the wings of butterflies. Will my reign of terror never end?"

I let my head fall to my chest in pretend shame.

I guess they didn't find me as funny as I did.

"Honestly, Quinn...this could be over easily. From what Robin told us, your case wasn't investigated right. What happened here is illegal. If you talk to us, we can help you." Canary tapped a file lying in front of her.

Part of me felt drawn to her, desperate to believe what she said was the truth. Problem was, I had absolutely no idea what the truth was anymore. My parentseweere modest, teaching me to be grateful for everything I have. Ivy had a completely different set of views. Usually her views had something to do with plants or how polluting, filthy humans are a scourge on the earth. Robin and the other heroes, they believed in truth and justice and all that jazz.

And I...I wasn't sure what I believed in. All I know for sure is that these people could send me back to the asylum, and there was no way in hell that I'd allow that to happen.

"Not illegal." I smiled, a little half-tug in the corner of my mouth.

"Didn't you hear? I'm insane. Legally insane. Got the papers and everything."

I looked at the two heroes, gauging their reactions. Neither seemed mad, but Batman was plenty irritated. Canary's expression was harder to read, but I could tell she wasn't pleased. He rose, gesturing for Canary to do the same.

"Fine, have it your way. Maybe a few hours in here will soften you up." He growled.

Batman stood, storming towards the steel metal door that opened with a soft swish. The way his cape swirled behind him and his long, purposeful stride seemed a tad overly-dramatic if you asked me.

I put my hands behind my head as best I could, leaned back in my plastic chair and glared at the ceiling. I'd already decided I would escape, in an odd foggy sort of way. Like I was in a dream and I was simply going through the motions of life but, end the end, nothing I could say or do would matter.

When you think about it, it's sort of true. I'm in far too deep, there's no going back now. Besides, there's not anything I have to go back to, except for my mean aunt Ruby who cheated my mother out of her inheritance when Grandpa died and her forty cats that pee all over the carpet. It's just not worth it to try, to even entertain the idea of trying.

I closed my eyes, feeling the currents of electricity running through the walls of the Hall like they were competing with one another to see which one of them could power the most machines in the least amount of time.

The thought made me smile.

I got out of my seat, settling myself in the far corner and leaning my head against the cool cement walls of my prison. I pictured the electricity flowing through wires; a powerful, unstable force furious at being contained. I never thought about it before, but electricity was a killer that we willingly let into our houses. How many fires have been started by something electrical? How many people have been struck by lightning?

I'll never have to worry about those things, the electricity wouldn't even hurt me. But it was then I truly realized why Ivy had taken me in, I was a living weapon. Make me mad enough and I could kill, albeit accidently.

I reached out, imaging a bungee cord connecting myself to the electricity throughout the Hall. I could feel the immense power at my fingertips, and was temporarily tempted to kill the electricity right then. Instead, I forced myself to wait. Seconds turned to minutes, the electricity became as impatient as me. Jumping and leaping in anticipation, desperately wanting to be free.

I waited one hour, two.

Finally, when I estimated the sun must be down in D.C by now, I wrapped physical fingers around the base of the bungee and pulled like I was yanking an electrical cord out of a wall. It gave, the electricity I had been linked with for so long died, and I was plunged into darkness.

Covered by shadows, I grinned smugly. If I was right the Hall would be void of all heroes, leaving me to deal with some idiotic security guards who thought they were hot shit because the Justice League them to watch a flashy false-front designed to satisfy curious tourists.

I actually knew some of the guards that worked in the Hall, seeing as I spent the majority of my life here. Yes, I'd always had a hunch it wasn't real. But it was so nice to push the doubs away and believe, believe in the lie and awe over the beautifully crafted building and to peer through the thick, bulllet-proof glass and take pictures of the heroes even though it made me feel like a major dork. To smile at the other dorky kids there and talk about what the heroes were discussing and dream up possible life-threatening missions they were about to go on.

In the end, my fantasy world wasn't real. The Hall was nothing but an giant lie. The Justice League were my idols at one point, my shining light in the dark world I lived in. Unfortunately, they were my enemies now, the only thing I'm allowed to feel for them is cold malice and hate. I raised my hand, watching my fingers explode in a shower of sparks and created a nice glow I could use to slice through the shadows. I melted the zip-ties from my wrists, staggering to my feet and rubbing my sore joints.

I reached the door, sliding my free hand across the cold metal sliding door. I found it funny that the Justice League had splurged on fancy doors that opened sideways, like the doors of an elevator, just for a building that was little more than an elaborate stage. It should be grateful, I knew. If it was a normal door I was dealing with, escaping would be much, much harder.

I concentrated, fueling the door which opened before me like a show was about to begin. I smiled, stepping over the threshold and looking both ways down the hallway as if I was crossing a road. I'm sure alarms would be wailing in my ears right now if I hadn't disabled them.

Resisting the urge to laugh, I chose a corridor and started down it. I was in no particular hurry, assuming that I wouldn't have to deal with anyone other than some puny security dudes. I marveled at how easy it was, escaping a League facility. I know they probably don't take this place very seriously, but...

A metal projectile flew past my ear, cleanly severing a piece of bright green hair from my scalp. The object, an arrow, having missed its target continued its journey and dug itself into the wall. Almost unconsciously I threw an electic bubble around me, hearing more arrows ping of the side and fall uselessly to the ground.

I didn't turn around, instead I knelt beside the arrow and wrapped my lean fingers around its base. With a quick twist and a yank, it came out of the wall and settled into my palm with a tiny puff of drywall dust.

I scowled in irritation. I recognized the shape of the arrowhead and the distinctly shaded fletching, not Green Arrow's or the extremely attractive Speedy...Or Red Arrow, I should say. The archer had appeared on TV one night before the fire, vehemently stating he was no longer a sidekick and his name wasn't Speedy anymore. I knew he was being a giant asshat, but he was a hero and he was hot. My attention never left the boy for a second.

No, the League had sent their cheap knock-off counterparts to deal with me. With a twitch of my hand the blonde annoyance was slammed against the wall parallel to us. I let the bubble and the arrow drop, assuming that the others couldn't be that far behind.

My feet picked up speed as my panic increaded, I really didn't need another encounter with Robin. I'd met the boy twice, and each time I ended up hurt or in huge trouble. He was a bad luck magnet for me, and I knew that if he caught up with me Robin would just try to fill my head with lies. Like he did the last time. Like Ivy told me he would.

I didn't blame Ivy for not rescuing me as soon as Batman showed up. One of the first things she taught me was that I had to solve my own problems because she didn't have the time or patience to play babysitter. It was better this way anyways, my rap sheet is notably smaller than hers. I'd get off much easier than she would.

There was a noise, a noise I couldn't identify. It kind of sounded like a giant hummingbird wearing Reeboks running across linoleum. Realization dawned on me just a half-second too late, a whirl of red and yellow exploded into my line of sight. A kick sent me sprawling to the floor, gasping as the air left my lungs.

Breathing heavy, I flipped over onto my stomach and glared up at my attacker. Kid Flash swiped at me, missing only because I managed to roll to the left despite the fact that my lungs were in serious pain. I reached out, wrapping my supercharged fingers around the boy's ankle.

It was like a giant firecracker went off underneath him. Her slammed against the far wall and sunk to the ground like a broken puppet. He was unconscious, clearly, but I didn't waste any time being smug over taking him down. I could brag to Ivy later. Without bothering to reignite my electrical flashlight, I raced blindly through the halls. I used my hands to feel around, occasionally using my shins to find a piece of furniture in the dark.

I turned down a corridor, realizing that I'd hit a dead end only after I'd collided into the wall. After a brief hesitation, I made a spark in my palm and held it up to the wall. Plain steel. No doors, no windows, no...

There, at the bottom right of the floor, lay a heating vent. The heat had been turned off, along with everything else in the building, so it wouldn't be a problem to maneuver my way through them. Unless of course the vents couldn't take my weight...

A crash and a shout came from somewhere behind me, giving me more than enough incentive to drop to my knees and tear the metal grill away from the vent. I squeezed myself through, I just barely fit. Someone yelled at me again, I made out the words 'stop' and 'no.' Struggling to stay calm I turned as best I could and shot an electric charge through the grill. It sprang up, clinging to the vent like its life depended on it.

I started crawling through the venting system again, I was just taking a left when I heard a curse and someone yelling "She magnatized it!" I allowed myself a tiny smirk, but I forced my arms and legs to go faster. They were heroes, I highly doubt a heating duct will pose a huge problem.

I reached up and used my shirt as a makeshift facemask to help filter out some of the dust. I coughed, trying not to retch. My hands became covered in dirt as I climbers through the ducts, choosing different paths at random. One of the routes stopped dead, slanting upward into a sharp horizontal line. I groaned, knowing that I was too drained to magnatize myself to the sides of the ducts and climb up. Using my own physical strength wasn't an option either, even after weeks of training my arms still looked like limp noodles.

Using my hands to propel myself backwards, I backtracked and tried to find another path. I stretched my legs as far as they would go and tapped the toes of my boots against the sides of the duct in an attempt to paint a mental picture of what lay behind me.

I selected a route different from the way I went the first time and kept sliding through the ventilation system on my stomach like some sort of really confused penguin. My hands were being rubbed raw, do to the fact that Batman confiscated my gloves while I was still zonked out.

Suddenly, the ground dropped out under my feet. I don't know what I was suspecting, a nice gentle slope maybe, not this sudden drop. My legs, hanging over the hole, started dragging me down into the abyss like an anchor. Frantic, I used my hands to scrabble around the vent in search of a handhold. But the ducts were made of metal, completely smooth except for a few screws jutting into the vent. And those proved useless, being too small to provide a nice grip. I tried to use my legs to brace myself against the vent behind me. Instead of helping, this only seemed to make it worse.

I plunged downwards, not falling far, and landed safely on my feet. I was just about to let out a curse and try to drag myself back up when the metal under my feet crumbled like it was made of wet tissue paper. I was falling, except it was a much farther distance this time. I twisted in midair, landing on my side on the hard concrete. I groaned, gently ghosting a hand over my sore ribs. Nothing was broken, but I knew that sometimes people can suffer internal bleeding, bruised organs, or any number of potentially dangerous enemies. No problem, I'd just get Ivy to check me out when I get back.

Gingerly, I stood, looking around the room and squinted in the gloom. Only a few lightbulbs hung from the ceiling from long metal chains, offering very little light. It looked like a bacement, one very rarely used. Curious, I shuffled forward and kept my eyes peeled for anything cool.

I was just about to give up when I saw it: Black as night and gleaming like a polished gem in the light of a single overhanging lightbulb. The tires were massive and looked like they could glide across pavement without a sound and still make sharp turns on ice. It's windshield, obviously made of bulletproof glass practically sparkled. I leaned forward, peering in at the incredibly theatrical seats and high-tech controls that lay inside.

It was the Batmobile.

Almost subconsciously, I reached out and laid a hand on the hood. The machine roared to life, opening outwards like a giant metal flap. The scent of leather and motor oil hit my nose, nearly making me stumble backwards at it's intensity. Casting a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure I was alone, I slid into the driver's seat and settled my hands on the bat-shaped steering wheel.

I didn't know why I was doing something so stupid and reckless, maybe I knew my freedom probably wouldn't last long or maybe I just wanted the bragging right. Not a lot of people have even been within spitting distance of the Batmobile, let alone inside it. And out of that select handful, how many of them have a criminal record?

I settled back into the high-backed leather chair, grinning like a maniac and striking a dramatic pose. Looking to my right, I noticed a smaller chair situated a little ways back from the driver's seat. From the bird-shaped motif decorated the back of the seat. Sneering, I realized that the bird had left a spare utility belt lying on the seat cushion.

I should steal it, or at least empty out all the little pockets. I grabbed it, clipping it around my abdomen and adjusting the size to fit me. Batman took every ounce of equipment I had, stripping me of my diamond as well. I can use Robin's trademark fashion statement to replace my lost belt. It won't make up for the lost diamond but it'll most likely get a rile out of the heroes when they see me strutting around with it tied snug around my waist.

"GET AWAY FROM THAT!" Someone screeched.

Not bothering to look up, I reached up and pulled the door shut. Fists hammered against the side, shouts echoed through the basement like war cries. I bit my tongue, gently resting my fingertips on the control panel. I couldn't make sense of the dizzying keyboard-like panel, but the mechanics behind all the glittering dials was practically child's play. Just a simple matter of igniting and killing different electric currents.

I could pilot it.

I knew I could.

My sweaty hands gripped the wheel again. My heart was doing crazy jumping jacks inside my chest, but I forced myself to swallow big gulps of air and focus on the engine. With a fierce snarl, the Batmobile woke up and took off into the dark. The headlights flicked on automatically, letting me actually see where I was driving. I struggled to keep my eyes open as I guided the speed demon to what I guessed was the garage door.

I exploded into the night, releasing a beast onto the streets of D.C. I pulled out into a street, unable to stop or even slow down a little. Up ahead, an intersection was flooded with cars. The traffic lights were slowly changing colors, letting cars move around. But there was no way they'd get out of my way in time.

And there was no way I'd be able to stop.

Somwhere in the back of my panicked mind, I heard someone screaming.

I realized that someone was me.

Cliffhanger...make sure to read the little paragraph in the author's note at the top of the chapter. :D

Random: I thought Wally looked adorkable in those little turtlenecks, although I think the bright yellow one was a little much. Look at me, questioning the fashion of superheroes...Still, how does his mother even let him out of the house?