Hello again and welcome! In this short chapter I introduce another character from the Question comics (seen also in 52), Aristotle Rodor, a.k.a. Tot. Poor Mariko's fraying around the edges, but at least she has some contacts. For now.
As always, I love reviews very much :D and I of course own nothing and no one but Foxglove/Mariko, so please don't sue me, DC . . . but I'll come to work for you if you want!!
She kept her promise to Richard as she set out for Hub City. She stopped and forced herself to have meals, and stay overnight at a hotel.
There was more than Rodor that she was after. Once she got information from Batman about their shooter, it turned out he was from Hub City, where the Question had started out. Far too much to be a coincidence, particularly given what he'd been working on prior to his death.
The city had improved, but continued to brim with corruption just under the surface. Perhaps the Question was sentimental at times, but he returned fairly often to the web of intrigue there. However, from his recent workings, it looked as though something else entirely was amiss. There were copious notes and reports on a pharmaceuticals company who'd recently begun work in Hub City. It was unfortunate most of his connections remained mental; there wasn't much to go on but apparently unconnected documents. She had to find what made them a whole, and find out what it was that the Question had been close to that got him killed. There was no way the events were unrelated, she expected to find more connections when she checked out the gunman's home and worked up a background check. But for the moment, she was heading to the home of Aristotle Rodor, Vic's friend and the one who'd created his mask and the color changing clothing, and had made the GTO into the monster of a machine it was. She'd never met the man, but Vic had gone to visit him occasionally, and she imagined he'd mentioned her while there.
The house was on the outskirts of the city, well-maintained, and fairly large. She parked, walked up to the porch and rang the doorbell, trying to decide what to say. He'd been informed of course, Batman had seen to that. Having her show up on his doorstep may or may not be welcome.
The man who answered was probably older than he looked, his beard and mustache and ponytail gray, his eyes blue and sharp. He cocked his head, taking her in, eyes flicking to the car and back to her. "Foxglove, isn't it?" He said, before she could speak.
She blinked, and gave him a wan smile. "Used to be." She said, quietly. "You're Mr. Rodor, right? You . . . can call me Mariko."
The man smiled a bit, gently, moving aside to usher her in. "And you can call me Tot. Come on in, hon, there's coffee."
She followed him in, quietly, accepting a steaming cup and a cookie from the man, who sat across the table from her. She took off Vic's fedora, laying it aside.
He sighed a bit. "I . . . was sad to hear about Charlie." He said, quietly. Vic had informed her of Rodor's habit of refusing to call him by his preferred name, and she couldn't help but smile a little. "He was a good man. Stood up for what he believed and did something about it." He looked up after a moment. "And he loved you very much." He finished, quietly.
She swallowed, looking down. "The feeling was . . . is mutual." She said, softly. He squeezed her hand, lightly, and she gripped his, thankful.
He sipped his drink, slowly, looking at her for a long moment. "You're investigating what happened, aren't you?" It was more a statement than a real question, and she looked up, nodding slightly.
"It wasn't a random act." She said, simply. "He was targeted, then the gunman eliminated. I think it's too much of a coincidence that the gunman hales from Hub City, which Vic had under investigation at the time."
He nodded a bit. "Charlie didn't quite believe in coincidences. Not coincidences that big." He said, sipping his coffee thoughtfully. "You're more than welcome to stay here for however long you have to. And if there's anything I can do to help, just ask."
She put down her cup, looked up at him. "There is something." She said, quietly. She'd come to a decision some nights ago. The one that prompted her to abandon her costume to the flames. "I need a mask. And clothes." She said, quietly. "Already have the hat."
He frowned a little. "You're saying you want . . . "
She shook her head. "I'm saying I need a costume and mask." She said, quietly. "Foxglove can't find out what happened to Vic. The Question might be able to."
He looked at her a long moment, and she worried he'd refuse, think her insane. But he nodded. "Let's get your sizes, then."
