AHOJ, READERS!
That's hell in Czech! I'm feeling hyper! Hence why everything has an exclamation mark!
Ok. Calmed down now.
Right, sorry for not updating, I meant to straight after the last chapter but my internet went funny. Then I got writers block, and then for mybirthday I was given a puppy-Boots-who IS PEEING ON MY FLOOR RIGHT NOW-
Phew. Cleaned up. And then, of course, Christmas, so updating has been put off. Sorry. Lo siento.
So, I think I've gone on for enough time now, so read on.
No wait! The disclaimer. *sigh*
Young Justice is just as much in my ownership as the planet mars. As in, not in my ownership.
Now go on. Read. Or I will track you down and kill you! BWA HA HA HA HA!
Jaime ran and ran and ran. And then, because he was just crazy about consistency, ran some more.
It's funny, he thought as the hounds of hell chased him, how running for your life puts everything else out of your mind. He could hear the baying drawing closer, as he ran along the roof tops of Gotham, leaping from one roof to another, keeping to the shadows. So, ok, not at all funny.
Actually, it's probably better to explain why he was in this situation in the first place.
After his medical check with Canary and Megan, he'd been released and had gotten beaten up bad by the Zoo Rats. Real bad. Even shot at him as he'd ran away. That was what convinced Jaime to move on. So, he'd stowed away on a train headed to Gotham, and here he was.
But he'd met even more dangers in Gotham.
Well, he supposed, it wasn't so bad at first. He'd been setting up camp when a man came to him. Complete stranger, Jaime had never seen him in his life. The man-we'll call him Byron, it's his name-had offered to train Jaime up, feed him, in return for Jaime working for him.
Jaime had agreed. He'd soon discovered Byron was working for a much bigger cause than street theft.
That was what it was at first. Byron had taught Jaime to hit these points on people that temporarily paralyzed them. His pick pocketing skills had been improved so Jaime was now an expert. He'd been taught how to sneak into buildings, to do acrobatics, steal things, merge into shadows, stay unseen. This all worked for Jaime. It was in his nature to be the shadow, to watch and then only fight if necessary.
Byron gave him assignments, Jaime going under the code name 'Fingersmith'. It had been in a story Jaime's mother had read to him once, by a guy named Roald Dahl? Jaime didn't exactly remember. But it had been about an expert thief, who called himself a Fingersmith. So Jaime had adopted the name.
At first these assignments were small, but they built up and up so that now Jaime was stealing large amounts of money and other things from big companies and labs. Jaime learnt that he stole the money for a drug ring. But, even though it sounded bad, he really didn't care. If there had been something he could've done, he would've done it. But there wasn't anything he could do. Besides, by now he was trapped. Jaime had pulled enough stunts that he could go to jail for a lengthy sentence now, and if he quit the whole of the drug ring would be on his tail. And anyway, he loved the thrill of it, the kicks he got when he stole things, when he was almost (but never) caught.
But then it had gone wrong. On a mission to infiltrate Wane Labs so that he could steal some kit to give to Byron who'd sell it for cash, which would be squandered on drugs. Idiot. But Jaime hadn't been told the true importance of whatever he was stealing (he always found it best not to ask too many questions, just to carry out Byron's orders) and had been shocked and annoyed to find three super heroes guarding the vault he had to get into.
One was a weird fish guy that Jaime immediately took a strong dislike too when he heard him talk over the communicator. The other looked, weirdly, like a green Megan, the not-officer he'd met back at the police station, months ago. And, stranger still, it seemed as if Canary had a twin sister who was a super hero.
Jaime shrugged. Sticking to the shadows, getting occasional unhelpful advice from the scarab, he tried to sneak past.
But Green Megan was apparently telepathic. She'd yelled at the guy named 'La'agaan' (stupid name, Jaime thought) and the other 'Black Canary', to catch him.
It didn't take a genius to figure out this was the Canary that had played psychiatrist that time. Especially when La'agaan yelled 'isn't that the kid you talked to?'
Jaime shook his head as he sprinted out of the facility. His psychiatrist had been a super hero. Weird.
"Hey, stop!" Yelled a watchman, and in two minutes Jaime was running from the police, super heroes, and watchmen with big vicious dogs that would like to turn Jaime into the world's largest dog biscuit.
It looked like Jaime's life had taken on a whole new flavor of crazy.
So here we are; Jaime getting chased by the dogs of evil, the watchmen of death, the police of doom and some heroes of hell.
How had his life ended up like this?
Jaime swore as a particularly quick doggy latched itself onto his arm, it's teeth digging into his flesh. Jaime yelped and managed to kick the stupid mutt off, cursing fluently under his breath as he ran. His arm hurt like hell, and it was gushing out blood. Finally, Jaime lost them, or at least, they lost him. He was pretty good at not being found.
He ran toward Byron's base, and, after checking no one was behind him, slipped through a window and up the stairs. Panting, Jaime knocked on Byron's door.
"Come in!" Byron called. Jaime took a deep breath. Byron would not take kindly to failure, even if it was Jaime's first unsuccessful mission. He walked in all the same. "Well? Where is it?"
"Sir, three heroes were waiting for me at the lab, and one was telepathic," Byron's eyes were cold. "They sensed I was there and…And I had to bail. I failed, sir."
Jaime received a sharp smack round the face, and a punch in the stomach. Yeah, Byron was just another Jose. But the difference was that if Byron decided Jaime wasn't useful, Jaime would be killed. There was no room for failure. And in this life, no one would be there to help him.
"You're lucky." Kick. "That I." Smack. "Have a." Punch. "Big job." Smack. "For you." Kick.
Jaime sagged visibly.
"When sir?" He asked tiredly.
Good? Bad? Somewhere in the middle? You don't know? Tell me in reviews! Thanks. Now for the translations-
Oh.
My.
God.
NO SPANISH IN TWO CHAPTERS! JESUS CHRIST WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME! MY WRITING HAS GONE FROM MOSTLY ENGLISH TO ENTIRELY ENGLISH! AAARGH!
So to make up for my lack of Espanol, I am going to write the next opening drivle in Japanese!
YAY!
Right. Must dash. I need some food.
ZAIJIAN, MEIN AMIGOS!
...I feel better now...