Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I am so sorry that it took me ages to update. I underestimated what it meant to be in second year of high school, in a dormitory, in Korea. Reading novels is not good, because we need to read non-fictions, and writing novels isn't much better. Well, that's what the teachers think. I have to study from morning to night, without so much as a break. I do check the Fanfiction page from time to time, and sometimes read a few, but that's about all I could manage.
Thankfully, though, all the teachers seems to think that if I'm reading or doing something involving English, I'm studying. Of course, there are exceptions like a few stern teachers who think reading fiction even in English is not studying, and a few teachers who at least, get the gist of what I'm reading or writing. God! It's really frustrating to be a student in Korea!
Between the classes, the exams we have about once a month(sometimes even twice!), all the English contests and tests(TOIEC, etc.) I have to get through in order to get into a good college, and looking for a college I want to apply in, reading non-fictional books that are going to help me get into college, writing another fiction(not fanfiction) that the principal had promised to publish in order to help me get to a better college, the club work, the projects, personal studies on English literature as an advanced studying, the extra effort I'm putting on math, etc. I am exhausted! I look at my calendar and sigh at all the things I have to finish by the end of the month.
I thought being a second year wouldn't be so different, but it is. Did I mention that getting access to a computer is like happening to walk upon a mysterious pot of gold? With a four-leafed clover? At the end of the rainbow?
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, I can't keep up with my update schedules. I'm not going to abandon the story, though. If it takes me years to finish this, then I'm going to spend years writing it. But I can't update like I promised. Not that I have been, even before the new school year. But it's going to get worse. I might even take months to update a chapter. And it won't be consistent. I'll update whenever I can.
For those kind people who had said or thought that this was a good story and cheered me on, and especially for those who said or thought I had an impressive update time,(the-girl-with-purple-eyes) I am so sorry for letting you down. But I will continue with this story, and I have the whole plot stored safely in my head, so I will finish it. However long it takes.
IMPORTANT : Chapter 7 is actually chapter 8! I'm so sorry for that stupid mistake! I've made changes so it would be best for you to read from chapter7 again.
Thank you for your support, and on we go with the story!
xxx
That's how he found him. Wolfe. That's how Thompson found Wolfe. Bent over, holding a cigarette butt burning into his fingers, and deep in thought. Wolfe was his idol, his hero. He had imagined a man perfect in every aspect. He had imagined him as a little boy would his father. It is never easy, meeting your hero and realizing that he is only human. Especially seeing that hero so vulnerable as he was right now.
"Are you going to stare at me all day, Mr. Thompson?" Wolfe turned towards him, smirking.
"Uh, ah... S..sorry, sir!"
He smirked once more, a bit sadly, this time, and turned to look at the bank. His smirk slowly faded. The voice he heard over the phone. There was something very familiar and just as wrong about it. He could swear that he had heard it before. And he knew who it belonged to. It was just buried deep, somewhere... somewhere so deep even he couldn't find it.
His jaws clenched tight at that thought. If that was true, then they were in a lot of trouble. And even if by some miracle, they were not, he was. He didn't want his past to barge in. Not when Robin was here to see any of the mess. Or any other time, for the matter.
He sighed quietly. He had no power whatsoever to stop it anyways. All he could do was to barge in there, take them down, and hope for the best. He shook his head. Since when had he become so rash? So full of... enthusiasm? Hope for the best? He snorted. It was a phrase Robin would use. No, even he wouldn't go far as to use such a phrase.
He sighed, and this time, it wasn't suppressed. He ignored the worried look Thompson gave him and looked around.
"Is everyone ready?" He asked.
"Yes, sir!" He answered, chin raised, but then lowered it. "But... I.. I might sound rude, sir, but..."
"What?" He snapped.
"Are.." He breathed in, as if to gain courage. "Are you?"
Those two words struck him down so hard he almost fell. Was he, though? The moment he felt his shock, he realized that, no. He wasn't. He would never be. But you don't get to discard things like this just because you're not ready enough to face them.
Right now, he was their leader. He was supposed to lead all those men, including Mr. Thompson to a battle that could well be their last. They needed a man who could stand tall and proud, one who would not sway for trivial things like newfound emotions.
Thompson could see it. The way the broken man stood tall and the smirk that filled his face slowly. He could see that the hero he had dreamt of so often had been and was nothing more than a mask.
"Of course I am. I'm Conrad Wolfe. And Conrad Wolfe is ready for anything and everything." He lifted his chin in pride.
"Of course. I'll bring the men about, sir!"
While Thompson prepared for everything, Wolfe stood tall for all to see. He saw that everyone in position and nodded curtly. He turned around in his spot and looked at the looming building. He pushed open the door and strode in. It was a bit dramatic, he had to admit.
As they slowly took out the terrorists there, Thompson could only stare in awe as Wolfe fought. He used a gun in each hand. It was as if he was dancing to a beat inaudible to everyone else. He never got hit, nor did he miss. He didn't even leave much left for them. He now realized why Wolfe was such a legend. His moves were so fluent that it was as if it was his second nature.
They searched every room and took down men in all of them. Finally, they reached the final room: the office of the chairman. There was no other place for this Mr. T to be other than this office. When one of the men knocked the door down, they could see desk and a comfortable looking chair behind it. Then there was a speaker of some sort connected to the phone with some wires.
Wolfe whirled around to face the surveillance camera and strode towards it. He clenched his jaw and lifted his cap to show his eyes.
"Who are you?" His voice dripping with poison.
Thompson, being the nearest, could get a glimpse at his features. He face was, he realized, surprisingly similar to that of the teen hero, Robin.
He was disturbed from his deep thoughts when Wolfe growled at the camera in frustration. He pulled his cap down and took a step back. In a fluid motion, he drew his gun, shot the camera, spun around and shot the speaker.
xxx
Wolfe was annoyed. Very much annoyed. He had risked everything to capture the terrorist and wiggle out where the real brain behind this operation was. Then he realized that he had been talking to the brain behind this attack.
He stormed out of the building, fuming. He found the Titans rushing up to him.
"Did you get him? Where is he?"
He ignored Beast Boy and continued walking away. He had done all they had asked of him. He had nothing more to do. He was having a headache already, and all he wanted to do now was to go home and rest. Of course, the Titans would have none of that.
"Stop! Where do you think you are you going?" Robin growled as he blocked his path.
He just looked down at the boy for a while. He head was being cracked open now. He contemplated on what to do. What could he do when a superhero he could never say no to tell you to stop?
"Home." He finally settled on grumbling.
"Home? But what about that Mr. T guy?" Beast Boy asked, coming to stand beside his leader like all the Titans had chosen to do.
"He's not my problem anymore. I did what I was asked. Now, I intend to leave." He pushed past them, careful not to nudge Robin.
"So you don't care whether innocent people die?" Robin asked, and he turned around to face him.
"Even though I did, I can't do anything. I follow orders, Robin." He told him.
"You-!" He was about to say something when the press had encircled the young heroes.
Wolfe pushed down his cap a little more, looked at Robin, who was trying to get past the crowd, and was failing miserably. He stared at them for a little while longer. He started to walk away, but turned around. He stared at Robin, as if trying to carve him in his mind. He lowered his gaze and turned around.
This time, he really walked away. It felt as though someone was pulling at him, refusing to let him go. He wanted to run back to him and just once, just once, hug him and tell him how much he loved him. But he knew he couldn't do that. He shouldn't. Not if he cared about the boy. He slowly dragged his feet, and wished for it to take him somewhere far away, away from the boy for good. Before he could bring his hell upon his precious boy and taint his soul.