No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem

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*Author's Note: Well, my Muse seems to have a new hobby. It does me no good to try to persuade her elsewhere if she's made up her mind on a story, so here's another little installment.*

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Part 2: Starfire & Mammoth

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With a quick staccato of delicate taps, Koriand'r's boots touched down in the parking lot at Benny's Breakfast House. She stood in contemplation of the front door for several seconds, also surveying the building's understated exterior. This residential neighborhood wasn't anyone's idea of upscale, but neither was it a slum. One of Jump City's many industrial zones began two blocks to the east. A series of high-rise office buildings stood between the small, brick café and the bay to the west.

Marshaling her spirits, she lifted her chin and strode on in. She had to stop just inside the door to draw a deep breath of appreciation at the bewildering array of wonderful aromas.

It being Friday, and shortly past eleven, the lunch crowd was just starting to show up, but there were still plenty of tables and booths. The dining area looked strangely larger, now that she was inside, than the unassuming structure might have indicated. But maybe that was just a trick of the light, since all three exterior walls were glass and a long mirror took up much of the space behind the bar. She spotted a small table near the left end of the bar and moved over to it, many of the patrons openly gaping at her.

She was used to that, though. It came with the position.

The waitress that bustled up, however, was all business. "Mornin', Miss. What can I get you to drink?"

"I would like a glass of iced water, please, and a bottle of mustard."

The waitress didn't turn a hair. "Regular, Chinese hot, or Dijon?"

"Ooo! You have Dijon? That one, please!"

"You want two straws?"

"Yes, please, that would be perfect!"

"Comin' right up." And she hurried off.

Now the solitary Titan started looking around at the other diners, trying to be as surreptitious as possible. That isn't easy when a third of them are looking back at you … including a gigantic man in the far corner with a long, shaggy mop of reddish-blond hair. Koriand'r immediately colored and dropped her eyes. Fortunately the waitress reappeared at that point and placed her drinks on the Formica table top. She also handed the girl a menu and asked, "Know what ya want?"

"Ah … no, Miss Waitress Person, this is my first time to visit your place of dining, so I do not …" Her voice trailed off as her eyes widened. She pulled the menu up close to her face and gasped, "This is printed in Tamaranean!"

"Izzat so? Need me ta get ya one in English?"

"No! Um, I mean, no thank you. This will … will be …" She studied the colorful plastic-covered sheet, her mouth dropping open in shock. "How … but …"

"You need some time ta look it over?"

"These are Tamaranean dishes!"

Cocking an eyebrow at the alien, the waitress said, "I'll take that as a yes. Back in a few." And she hurried off.

Carefully, lovingly, the girl examined each dish displayed. How are they even offering Klat'megtra Pudding? The ingredients are not found on Earth! I know! I have tried to get them before. And Tela Soup? And fried Bokh'glor Dumplings? Where did they get the kro'anatch beetles for the stuffing? Avidly she anticipated trying several of the offerings, swallowing a few times to keep from drooling on the menu.

Not even five minutes had slipped past before the waitress returned. "Make up yer mind yet?"

"Yes, I have! Please, I would like the Bokh'glor Dumplings, Toasted Reesch'knakh with gray sauce, and … do you really, truly have Klat'megtra Pudding?"

"If it's on the menu, we got it, Miss."

"That, too, then."

"Full portion or half?"

"Ah …" She considered: if the portions they served here matched what she knew how to make, she'd be too full to fly. "um … half, please."

"Right away." And she was gone.

The alien twisted the top off the bottle of mustard, stuck a fat straw into the variegated substance, and took a long pull, swishing the tangy condiment around a few times before swallowing contentedly.

"Mustard? Seriously?"

She jerked and looked up at the figure standing in front of her table. Mammoth had his arms crossed and one eyebrow up as he surveyed her choice of beverage.

"You actually drink it?"

She nodded, slowly, trying to suppress a blush.

"Why?"

"It is a very refreshing drink."

His mouth screwed up in distaste. "Whatever. I don't even like that stuff on a hot dog."

"As my teammate Raven has stated on many occasions, tastes differ." She took another sip and set the bottle down. "You have been to this café before, then, Mr. Mammoth?"

He nodded and used one hand to indicate the chair opposite her. "Mind if I sit?"

"… Uh …"

"Ya know this is neutral ground, right? No fights, no shady stuff."

"That is what Speedy said when he came to the Tower yesterday."

"He's right. This is a good place for some down-time, if ya need it." He tapped the back of the chair. "Can I sit here? And before ya ask, the rules here make that a yes-or-no. If ya don't wanna talk, I'll just leave."

She stared at him solemnly for a moment and then nodded. "If you wish to join me, I do not mind."

"Thanks." He pulled the chair out and sat. Koriand'r frowned at the seat briefly. She hadn't realized it was all that big when she first took the table, but it fit the enormous villain perfectly.

Turning her attention back to the man who was taking up an inordinate amount of her field of vision, she asked, "Was there a specific topic you wished to discuss?"

"Matter o' fact there is."

She waited while he formulated his question.

"Okay, see, you, um, ain't from around here, right? Different planet an' all?"

"That is correct."

"There any more o' your people on Earth?"

"Not at present, as far as I know. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just …" He sucked on the inside of his cheek for a moment and continued, "See, you fight real good."

"… Uh … Thank you?"

"Yeah, yeah, look, what I mean is, there ain't too many people alive can go toe-to-toe with me an' come out on top. But you done it more 'n once." He held out a massive arm. "An' if you weigh more 'n my arm, I'll tear it off an' eat it."

Holding up shocked hands, she begged, "Please, Mr. Mammoth, do not feel that you need to maim yourself on my behalf! I am sure that your arm weighs more than I do!"

"Yeah, see, an' that's my point. You don't look … well, big enough to be as strong as you are."

"Oh. I see." She repositioned herself on her seat and placed her laced fingers on the table. "Well, as you pointed out, I am not human."

"Yeah, but still …"

"Tamaraneans are a more durable race than humans."

"You can say that again."

She frowned. "If you wish. Tamaraneans are a more durable race than humans."

He stared at her for a second and then chuckled. "Yeah, okay, English ain't yer first language."

"… Sorry?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Okay." She looked at him closely for a bit, which started to make him uncomfortable.

"Do I got somethin' on my face?"

"No. Your face appears to be quite clean, in fact."

"Then why the stare?"

"I have a question for you."

"Oh. All right. Shoot."

"You are immensely strong. Our database maintains that you are capable of lifting as much as fourteen thousand kilograms, and that your stamina allows you to work at near-full capacity for many hours."

"Your database? You got a database on me?"

"We monitor such information on all members of the H.I.V.E. It is standard procedure. Besides, do you not keep that sort of information about us?"

"Well … yeah, but …"

"Then it seems only reasonable to me."

"… I'll give ya that. But so far ya haven't asked me anythin', have ya? Ya just said I was strong. I knew that already."

"My question is this: given that your success rate in your thieving activities is somewhat low, why do …"

"Low? Whaddaya mean, low?"

"I mean typically unsuccessful. By our calculations, the H.I.V.E. Five's success rate for robbery is just over eight percent. You attempted twenty-four robberies in a period of twenty-two months, and were successful in making your escape with the 'loot' twice."

He sputtered, not knowing how to respond.

"I would choose to refer to an eight-percent success rate as 'low'. In any case, that is only the filling in of the background, as Robin would say. My question is: why do you not pursue some other line of work? Surely there exist many opportunities for someone with your abilities that would allow you to earn the money you desire without going counter to any laws."

He looked away and grumbled. She waited quietly.

Finally he sighed and placed his hand on the table, fingers spread. "Put yer hand on mine."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but he insisted, jerking his head toward the table. So she did. Her fully-splayed fingers fit comfortably in the area described by the back of his hand. "You," she observed, "have very large hands."

"I have very large everything. And that's a problem." They withdrew their hands. "Lemme ask ya this, princess: you ever fill out a job application?"

"How did you know I was a princess?"

"… Huh? No, that just … waitaminnit! You sayin' you are a princess?"

"I am next in line for the throne of Tamaran, if anything ever happens to my sister. But that is not common knowledge. I wish to know …"

"Shit!"

She frowned. "I assure you, Mr. Mammoth, I am completely serious."

"I didn't know you was a princess! That's just a … a … a figure of speech!"

"Oh. I see. I think."

He studied her through narrowed eyes for a moment. "A princess."

"Yes."

"Like, royalty."

"Yes."

"What the hell you doin' on this planet? How come you ain't livin' the high life back home?"

She colored noticeably and turned her gaze to the side. "I would … rather not discuss that."

"Oh, no. You expect me to believe you're some kinda royal deal, but you spend all your time with Bird Brain and his crew of weirdoes instead of doin' your princess thing back on … Tamaran, was it?"

She nodded quickly, still not meeting his eyes.

"Sorry, sister, that don't add up."

She looked up at him then, determination pushing her blush out of the way. "I do not have to explain myself to you, Mr. Mammoth."

"You want a straight answer outta me, I expect one outta you."

She drew a long breath.

Another.

"Very well. I am in exile."

". . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Huh?"

"My sister has banished me from Tamaran."

"Your sister?"

"Yes."

"She's in charge?"

"Yes."

"Holy shit."

"I think you should probably leave now, Mr. Mammoth."

"Whoa, hold on. I still owe you an answer."

Considering him closely, she nodded. "That is correct. You do."

"What I started ta say was, won't nobody hire me for nothin'. They look at me, they don't see somebody who can do the work o' five men. They see insurance problems. They see property damage and lawsuits. They don't see me, they just see … a big problem."

"But you do not necessarily need to cause damage simply due to your great strength. Surely they can understand that! I face similar challenges each day, as does Superman or any other of the extremely-strong metahumans."

"Hittin' stuff is just easier. And most o' the time quicker."

"That is hardly the correct way to deal with a problem."

"Yeah, maybe. But if ya hit somethin' hard enough, it stops bein' a problem."

"Or that simply creates a bigger problem."

He huffed in exasperation. "It's all I know how to do!"

"… Are you saying that being a thief is … is the only …"

"Damn straight."

"What of the military?"

"The Army don't do metahumans. There's a law."

"Oh. I, ah, did not know that."

"Most folks don't."

"Surely there must be something …"

"Look. All I'm good at is breakin' shit. There ain't much call for that on your side of the law."

She pinched her chin between thumb and forefinger, a pose that suddenly struck Mammoth as terribly, terribly cute. He looked away quickly.

"Perhaps I could take that up with Robin. I am very sure he would rather find you a job than fight you. Raven was hard pressed to heal him after you dropped that car on his legs."

"… Heal him?"

"Indeed. She has healed us all from time to time, usually after we were called to stop you from taking things that were not yours."

They've got a bloody healer? The witch girl's a healer, too?

"Mr. Mammoth?"

"Huh?"

"I will be willing to help you in your search for alternate means of acquiring funds."

"… What?"

"I think it would be a very pleasant endeavor. It is not something I have done before, and perhaps if you have one of the Titans to vouch for you …"

"You're forgettin' one pesky little detail, there, Miss Starfire."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. All us H.I.V.E. types have outstandin' warrants. Plus, me an' Jinx have two convictions apiece, an' two more charges for escape."

"Well." She frowned in thought. "That is … a concern. Truly."

"An' I don't much care for jail. That's why we break out."

She gazed off to the side, muttering, "I certainly understand that."

"What was that?"

She looked back up at him and opened her mouth to say something, but the waitress arrived with her food and her eyes lit up in glee. Mammoth took one look at the three dishes and his hand slammed over his mouth. Eyes watering, he jumped to his feet. "I gotta go." And he ran out the front door.

Dipping her fork into a bowl of viscous, purple glop, she happily twirled it a few times and popped the resulting blob into her mouth, savoring the pungent, vinegar-and-Limburger-like taste. In her peripheral vision she noticed when one of the dumplings tried to roll up the side of its bowl, but a quick stab with her knife impaled it in place. It also impaled the bowl to the table. But she jerked the knife back out with no difficulty, glad to see that the dumpling was now a sort of kebob. She pulled it off with her teeth and chewed in half-lidded enjoyment. They got the beetles! I don't know how they did it, but they got the beetles!

A couple of minutes later, the waitress came by to refill her water. "You need anything else, Miss?"

"I will need a regular table here, Miss Waitress Person! I will be here for lunch every day that I am not required to be elsewhere."

"Good to know. Just holler if you need me." And she was off to help someone else.

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*End Note: And there you have it. Let me know what you think. Any and all are welcome to join the fray. Write your own 'Benny's House' drabble or send me the idea.*

Cheers!