We own the rights to nothing of this story.
'Sharp Dressed Man' is performed by ZZ Top
A new day had dawned and as Rose returned from her morning run, she paused and blinked at the sight that had settled into the kitchen. Blackfire was a curious enough sight around the table, but instead of her alien armor or typically revealing attire, she had donned a baggy shirt and sweatpants that Rose was mostly positive weren't hers. There was a mug clasped in her hands and even without seeing its content, Rose could smell the noxious fumes, wincing and shuddering at the stench. More bizarre was the emerald man in a suit, excluding the jacket which was draped over the back of a chair, wrestling with his black tie. His button-up shirt was a rich amethyst hue and he had a dark vest over it, yet to be buttoned. She did find a small reprieve in the fact that he was losing the battle against the long, skinny piece of cloth draped around his neck.
"Damned highbrow, snooty asshats. Making me wear this stupid suit . . ." he grumbled.
"You have a saying – 'less is more?' Generally, I agree with that. However, you don't necessarily look bad in a suit. It does have its own sort of charm," Blackfire considered, smiling as she eyed him.
"I'm probably gonna hate myself for asking this, but what's with the monkey suit?" Rose asked cautiously.
"Please. As if monkeys would ever wear something so ridiculous. Too much sense for that," he ranted. With a chuckle, Blackfire whirled about in her stool to answer the question.
"Gar received a call last night. Apparently he has to show up for work."
"Somebody actually gave you a job?" she arched a brow.
"Told you, didn't I? I have something to fall back on when the hero business is done," he remarked. As he completed the knot and tugged, the tie ended up in a gnarled mess, he gave a roar, ripped it over his head, and threw it across the room where it landed in the sink. Slapping his palms on the kitchen's island next to a black and yellow book, he snarled, "I am going to gather up all the ties in the world and set them on fire. And then dance in the ashes. Evil, vile things."
Blackfire chuckled at his frustration as he glared ballistic missiles, daggers were too tame of a description, at the discarded accoutrement. She glanced up when Eddie entered the room, attired in casual wear, and his face scrunched up as he tugged at his shorts though like Rose before him, he paused and blinked at the image of Gar in a suit. He had rejected the tie and was finishing up the buttoning of the vest before sliding his arms into the sleeves of the dark jacket. Blinking again, Eddie looked about the room as though to ensure himself that he was in the right world before he slowly asked, "What's going on?"
"Business meeting. You want to go in my place? All you got to do is sit at the head of a long table, withstand the stank of a bunch of crotchety old dudes, and forge my signature a couple times. Whattaya say?" the shape shifter offered hopefully. "Loan you the suit and everything."
"Ah, I think I'll pass. I was gonna try to show Alya and Alexei around," he answered and then winced and tugged at his shorts, scratching at his thigh and striding towards the island.
"Yeah, well, I've got my secret weapon this time. Lucky boxers," he winked to Blackfire. "So it shouldn't be too bad."
"There are so many things I learn on this team that I could really go without knowing," Rose sighed.
"Bah. You love it," he said as he made final adjustments to his suits and then gave a sigh and a nod. He grabbed his book and headed towards the door and then glanced back to his team and warned, "Don't do anything that I would do if I was left unsupervised. No prank calls to the Justice League, no 'spicing up' national landmarks, stay OUT of the storage place and away from the Painting, and don't go and rearrange everybody's personal things while they are out of their rooms. All right that should be it. Behave and I'll see you all later."
Minutes later, a common swift, aside from the green coloration and the strap around his neck from which his book was strung, ascended towards the heavens. At the arc of his flight, he did a slight twist and then leveled out, streaking towards his destination. A peregrine falcon may have topped speed of the animal world in its swoop, but for sustained flight speed, the swift was hard to beat. When he wasn't concerned with speed on a long flight, he preferred a more primordial form. However, his destination was close enough that he didn't need to bother with the shape of a pterodactyl.
Regardless of the species, Gar loved the sensations of flight. Climbing into the sky, getting a view of the world that very few could share in; it was exhilarating. It brought one of the purest forms of elation that he could ever touch, a strange joy that stood alone from anything born of human interactions. Planes or other crafted vehicles could not compare to the boon of self-powered flight; they were too cumbersome, too disconnected and self-contained to truly transfer the pleasure of cutting through the air. Out amongst the elements where the wind ripped through his feathers and flowed along his skin, where the sun warmed the earth, the air, and created thermal updrafts. Riding the updrafts, spiraling ever higher, and skimming the clouds where the tips of his wings stroked their bellies before he returned to a level pattern. Too soon, his journey was done as the towering skyscrapers of Manhattan came into view and his shape melted into that of a peregrine falcon as he began his descent. His keen eyes spotted the scarecrow of a man with thinning hair and heavy spectacles long before the older man saw him and he wished, not for the first time, that birds could grin.
Vernon Questor's only warning was a brief shadow and the fluttering of feathers, prompting him to glance up to see the dark shape of a bird. He tossed up his hands and ducked but a blow never landed and a snicker soon met his ears. Giving a slight cough, he straightened and fixed his rumpled suit as he scolded his young employer, "Cutting it a bit close, Mr. Logan?"
"Sorry, Q. For what it's worth, I have a really good reason. Hair dark as midnight, hot as a sun, I mean that both literally and figuratively, bite to match her bark-"
"I believe I get the picture, Mr. Logan," he held up a hand to prevent the green man from going any further as his eyes began to glaze over and his salivary glands kicked into overdrive. Gar blinked, shook his head, and smiled broadly at the pepper haired man who sighed, "Let's get to the board room. If we hurry, we might actually not be last. For once."
"Yeah. Hey, did they finally install that skylight?"
"They completed it last month."
"Cool. Meet'cha up there, Q."
"Wha-"
The emerald avian was already halfway up the building and Vernon stared after him for a second before sighing, giving a shake of his head, and heading inside the tower of Dayton Industries.
Gar breathed out a shaky sigh as he reclined back in his chair, finally released from the arduous tedium of the board meeting and the stale smell of the other members, who seemed convinced that his youth and interests meant that they had to challenge every decision he made. He had encountered – and fought – psychopaths that he could get along better with than the fossils who stared down at him from their wrinkled noses as though he were still that gangly preteen his father had dragged along when a caretaker could not be found. Those were peculiarly fond memories of his, seated alongside the now reclusive CEO of Dayton Industries, finishing his lessons or playing his games while he listened to his father roar at somebody else for a change. For all their conflicts, all the stony stares and demands to push himself harder, Gar had never doubted the love that existed between him and his adoptive father. Hazy memories of the grim-faced man carrying him to his bed and tucking him in after a late night movie marathon floated to the surface of his mind as he closed his eyes. With the deprivation of sight, he could almost still smell him in the office, his former domain, and he took a moment to reminisce until he heard the shuffle of hesitant feet outside his door. Without bothering to open his eyes, he called out to the man on the other side.
"What's up, Q?"
"I wish you wouldn't do that. Your secretaries keep quitting because of those little games of yours," Vernon muttered as he eased the door open and studied the man he had watched grow. He didn't fit in the grey stoicism of the office that had gone unchanged since Steve Dayton had vacated it, abruptly departing with only the instruction that the reins of his company would be handed over to his son. In truth, Vernon had fought the decision. It had been some years since he had seen the green youth who had spent most of his time playing pranks on the employees, and he had not held particularly high hopes when Gar was named as the successor. To his more than pleasant surprise, Gar had flourished in the world of business. As LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises contended for the control of the fields of cutting edge technology, the shape shifter had steered Dayton Industries to a new niche. With business holdings all over the world, they were researching deeper and deeper into biochemistry, genetic studies, and fringe sciences that Vernon honestly didn't understand. And despite the rants and grumbles of their investors, it was paying off quite handsomely.
"Sorry, Q. But, I mean, come on. That one chick practically bathed in her perfume. I could barely breathe," Gar recalled, his eyes still shut.
Vernon gave a slight cough and a nod, "Yes, I remember her. Regardless, you have a visitor, Mr. Logan. Mr. -"
"Wayne. Bruce Wayne," Gar interrupted and Vernon scowled as the broad shouldered man stepped into the room with a chuckle.
"That's quite a neat trick you have, Mr. Logan."
"Please, it's Gar. Only Q calls me Mr. Logan," he smiled and then gave a nod of his head, "And thanks. It's the most fun at those social elite parties where you can just hear everybody talking behind each other's backs. Kind of depressing, too. Still, 'always look on the bright side of life' and all that, right?"
"Sounds like a good idea. Do you mind if I take a seat?" the dark-haired man asked.
"Go right ahead. Hope you brought a cushion or something though. Dad liked having every advantage he could at a meeting – including being the only one comfortable. Honestly, I'm not around here enough to bother changing it," Gar admitted. He finally opened his eyes and then leaned forward, settling his arms on the solid desk that was starting to drown in his clutter.
Bruce gave a wince as he settled into the chair but managed a smile, "I can see what you mean."
"Would either of you care for some refreshments?" Vernon inquired, mostly out the door already.
"I'm good, Q. You want anything, Mr. Wayne?"
"No. I just bought a new Ferrari today that I wanted to take for a spin. Can't take another DUI. Thank you for the offer," he answered. Vernon nodded before closing the door and heading back down the hallway towards his own office as the two men settled into a short silence while they regarded each other. Cerulean eyes met emerald and they both wore easy smiles until the former finally gave a soft chuckle, "Well, I think that covers the 'measuring up' phase of our conversation, don't you?"
"Yeah, that should probably do it. So . . ." he leaned back and spread his arms. "What can I do for the most illustrious millionaire playboy of our time?"
"Billionaire," Bruce chided with an indulgent smile, "While I came to Manhattan to enjoy some of the sights, I do have some business to discuss with you concerning your recent actions."
"I know it's a bit strange, but there is a surprising amount of money in kitten calendars. Admittedly, a superheroine swimsuit one would probably sell better – and a superhero one for the ladies – but I'm having some trouble convincing them to help out. But, you know, I was thinking about having most of the proceeds go to charities of the participants' choices. Sure, it'd drive the price up, but who wouldn't buy it with the chance of seeing Power Girl in a bikini, right?" Gar grinned as he began to dig through the files piled up on his desk.
"Actually, I was talking about your recent additions to your employee roster," he stated, his handsome face losing all warmth and softness, gentle smile straightening into a grim line. Gar paused, and met the now icy gaze before he gave a deep laugh and settled back in his chair, capturing his chin between his thumb and his knuckle.
"Well, business is good. We're expanding and, well, we don't have enough manpower to sustain ourselves as is. Hiring is only natural."
"So the fact that you've been reaching out to establish contact with the likes of Kirk Langstrom, Emil Hamilton, Victor Fries, Pamela Isley, Doris Zeul, Frederick Von Frankenstein, The Shark . . . that's just coincidence?" Bruce pressed, lacing his strong fingers together as he leveled a steady gaze at the man who still presented a small grin though his eyes had gone serious.
"No, not a coincidence. I'm kinda curious. How'd you end up hearing about these discussions?" he returned.
"Heard it from a friend," he answered evenly, revealing nothing. "Do you mind me asking why you've taken a sudden interest in the criminal element? People are saying that you're hanging with a shady lot these days."
"Hmmm," Gar grunted as his face suddenly darkened. His pupils narrowed for a split second, turning animalistic, and Bruce's hand made the tiniest movement closer to his jacket before Gar's eyes returned to normal. He sighed and ran his hands through his arms as though searching for something to do with them and met the cold eyes. Leaning forward, he began, "You know, the problem with masks – sometimes you wear them too long, you forget which is the real you and which is the mask. And that can't be safe. Not at all. Because you create this split in your head, you start identifying yourself as two different people. You know who else does that? Folks like the loonies they keep buried in Arkham."
"The same people you're talking to."
"Exactly!" he clapped his hands together suddenly and beamed at him. "That's the point! Why's Dr. Fries out there turning people into icicles? Because he's looking for a method to bring back his wife. Is he going overboard? Absolutely. But what if somebody can provide him with the resources and assistance to do what he wants? What if we can remove his whole reason for villainy? Don't you think all that genius of his can be channeled in new ways, helpful ways?"
"And you think that you're the one who can help him with that?"
"All right, so I've got more than a healthy self-esteem, but I'm no scientist. I'm a mere millionaire goofball and hero. But, like I said, given the right tools and help, Victor could probably solve his own problem."
"Fair enough. What about the likes of Miss Isley and the Shark?"
"See, in a weird kind of way, I sort of get PI. She's become more plant than human and she holds them in higher regard. Me and animals aren't too different."
"Except you don't murder people."
"I'm not saying we should just release her into the general public. For what it's worth, she has shown . . . a gentler demeanor lately. Also? Genius. Really, really hot genius. Could do a lot of good. Also a prospect for that swimsuit calendar I was talking about. Oh, and the Shark? Likes to be called T.S. Smith, by the way, is a victim of his base instincts more than anything else. He taps into the intellects of others about him. So imagine his potential if he's surrounded by a bunch of geniuses."
"You have your own justification for every single person on the list, don't you?" Bruce's eyes narrowed.
Gar gave a somber smile and nodded, "Look, Mr. Wayne, I need to believe in the possibility of redemption. This isn't something spiritual or a belief in a cosmic balance or something like that. It's something internal, something I need to do for myself. And maybe these people I'm trying to help – maybe they won't get anything out of this. But maybe everybody else can."
A silence stretched between them as Bruce took in a deep breath and studied the younger man before him. There was a sort of serenity about him, a peace born of the conviction that his actions would banish whatever skeleton still lurked in his closet, refusing to release him from its bony grasp and forever whispering his past sin into his ear. Seeing that belief, that utter faith in the mission, was something he could relate to, even if he could not entirely agree with its goals. Taking another deep breath, he finally stood, mirrored by Gar, and approached the desk, offering his hand to him which the shape shifter accepted.
"Well, Gar, I wish you luck in your ventures. I'll admit that I don't entirely approve, but-"
A distant boom interrupted his statement and both sets of eyes flashed towards the window where a plume of smoke began to drift into the air. Their hands dropped and Gar gave a smile and a nod, "Sorry. I've got to take this."
"Of course."
He leapt to the ceiling, pushing open the window that was installed there and then took wing, heading towards the growing dark column now highlighted by embers. There was another thunderous boom and he stretched into the form of a peregrine falcon, going into an angled dive. The world streaked by, flashing pat him before the rubble and fire came into view, the remnants of a bank and he brought his wings up, coming to an abrupt halt. Dropping into his human form, he surveyed the destruction and gave a long breath, "Hoo boy."
Dashing forward, he darted up the crushed steps and gave only a slightest pause as he stepped onto the floor. A massive figure, towering over everybody in the vicinity, was in the process of tearing away the crumpled safe door that impeded its path. Two cannons arrayed upon its broad back gave off twisting tails of smoke and vents in its body gave off a furnace yellow glow even if its form was a navy blue coloration. Nestled between bulky shoulders was a disproportionate, conical head with no other markings beyond cruel crimson eyes and a golden, glowing dot between them. Its progress through the building was evidenced by craters left by its footsteps and despite appearing entirely mechanical, it had managed to squeeze into a pair of rough brown jeans that looked as though they had to have been sewn on. Beginning to sprint forward, Gar lowered his body to the ground as he grew closer and it swelled until it was suddenly a triceratops that thundered into the intruder who glanced around at the last second.
There was a resounding clang as the robotic figure crashed into the vault door but Gar knew as thick fingers curled about his brow horns that his attack had been largely ineffective. He was pushed back several inches and was lifted off the ground before being hurled, skidding across the floor as the behemoth bellowed, "G'off!"
Dwindling into the form of a housecat and scratching his claws along the floor to prevent any dangerous collisions with the unfortunate patrons of the bank. Growing into a smilodon, he snarled and then darted forward as the cannons rotated onto the villain's shoulders and a glow began to build in the barrels.
"Buh-bye, kitty," it rumbled. Its voice sounded like it had been dragged out of the abyss itself, doused in napalm, and then fire bombed. Moving in a zigzag pattern, Gar tried to evade the aim of the mechanical monstrosity but it altered the trajectory only minutely as though his movements didn't matter. As the glow built, a dark shape whirred through the air and curved into one of the cannons where that was an explosion that caused the entity to stumble back and glance to a dark shadow that entered the crumbled building. Regaining its balance, the glare of its eyes intensified and it grumbled, "Youse s'posed to be in Got'am."
"Stand down, Ignition. Before I put you down," the Batman growled in his guttural tone.
"Damn. Just sends shivers through your spine, doesn't it?" the prehistoric feline admired as he suddenly pounced upon the giant who managed to catch the cat and hurl him into the air as it grumbled.
"And who the Hell's youse s'posed to be?"
"Isn't it obvious, big, surly, and shooty?" the cat tumbling through the air was suddenly replaced by a small bird that swooped over Ignition's head, "I'm Robin, the Beast Boy Wonder!"
"You're not Robin," stated the Dark Knight, his tone heavy as he launched a trio of batarangs at Ignition who brought its thick forearm up to defend itself.
"Aw, come on. Pretty please?"
Ignition glanced up as it was suddenly shrouded in shadow, but it didn't have time to dodge from the mammoth that crashed down upon the sentient machine. He flowed into the form of a powerful gorilla, seizing Ignition by its bulky shoulders, and throwing it into the wall as he quipped, "I promise that I'll wash the Batmobile every day. Take the bats for a flight. Wear the goofy tights."
Tearing away from the wall it had been shoved into with a roar, Ignition brought back a fist and charged at the shape shifter only for a series of batarangs to stab into its back before exploding, throwing off his balance. Gar did not move from his path, but shifted into a kangaroo, rolling back on his tail and launching Ignition over his body, sending him crashing into the floor. With a growl, Ignition shoved itself to its feet and whirled upon the heroes, but as the whine began to build in its cannons, a modified batarang stabbed into its chest. It glanced down before electricity suddenly arced over its body, causing it to jerk sporadically before it toppled to the ground, the lights in its body dimming and going dark. Returning to his human shape, Gar beamed as he stomped upon the defeated foe's chest and looked to the dark figure.
"See? We work together so well."
He did not respond to the jib, but instead commented, "A warning, Changeling. I'm aware of your recent actions, and I'll be watching you. If any of your actions result in the suffering of innocents, I won't hesitate to take you down."
"Right. Cool," Gar gave a weak grin and rubbed the back of his neck before the grin became more of a smirk and his eyes hardened. "But you know, I should probably mention that I never really got the whole 'roll over' thing down in obedience school."
The elder hero regarded the young man before dipping a finger into one of the pouches on his utility belt and tossing a small, glistening object to Gar who snatched it out of the air. He glanced at the simple ring in the palm of his hand and then back up to Batman who intoned, "Cyborg completed a holo ring per your request."
"Oh, cool. Eddie'll be happy to get this," Gar smiled as he looked back down at it, but as he lifted his head back up to express his gratitude, Batman was already gone. He smiled and gave a wistful sort of sigh, "I so gotta learn how to do that."
It was a long weekend, so we had a lot of time to work on the story. Thus, this came out early. We would like to know what everybody thinks about Gar's plan and attempt at rehabilitation of criminal geniuses. Thank you for reading our story and please review.
We have recently decided to change the name of the story. By the next post, it will be entitled 'A Clean Slate.'
I Be Sporks: 'We' are Ira, Gula, and Superbia. Previously, Superbia was doing the posting and changing the plural pronoun into a singular. We've fixed this. Did we update soon enough for you?
Again, everybody, enjoy and review!