*faceplant in bed* Another late night, all. I had a speech prepared, but it's going to have to wait until next week. Just too worn out now. Enjoy!
"No, we're not calling Dad," Jason groused. Back at Titans Tower after Cassie had flown him there, he was presently being looked over by Tim and Raven. He winced when Tim shone a bright scope into his eye, and would've pulled away, but Cassie put her hand on his shoulder. Trying to move her was like trying to shove a boulder. So this is what it's like for everyone else dealing with me, he thought morosely.
"You told me once your father lost his powers a long time ago," Tim said, quite sensibly.
"Yeah, but that was on purpose, and it wasn't magic," Jason insisted. "We don't need to tell him. I can figure this out, guys. It'll probably just take some sun. Lots of sun. That's basically what did it for Dad, after all: the concentrated sunlight stored in the Fortress' main crystal assembly. The whole structure is a solar capacitor."
He was babbling. Jason was babbling and he knew it and he could no more stop than he could catch the panic-rat scurrying around in his brain wondering when the allergies would come back. When the weakness and wheezing would set in. He already felt like he had a cold coming on, and Jason hadn't had a cold since he was six.
"There are only residual traces of magic on him," Raven announced. "Whatever happened is complete."
"See? All I need is to recharge." An idea struck him, and he turned to Cassie. "Can you fly me up to the Fortress for a bit? I can probably talk Jor-El into giving me a boost, and then a good long sun-soak ought to fix it."
"Um, no," Cassie replied, looking at him in frank disbelief. "I am so not breaking into the Fortress of Solitude. Not even for you."
Jason stared at her. "What? It's not breaking in, Cassie. I'm a Super."
She crossed her arms and looked stern. "And it's your dad's Fortress of Solitude, and you won't even tell him what's going on."
"I'm allowed to be there!"
"Are you allowed to go up there without telling him?"
Well, technically yes, because he'd never been forbidden to go, but in actual practice Jason usually got a ride from Dad because flying was easier than jumping. Kala didn't really go anymore, just a few trips per year—if that. Nevada had iced over her desire to be the better Kryptonian, although she still spoke the language better than Jason could.
None of that mattered, because Cassie saw him hesitate, and she scowled. "No way. I'm not flying you up there if you're just going to get in trouble with him. And good luck hitchhiking."
It was no use explaining; Cassie didn't get it. "Fine," Jason spat, and turned to Tim. "Can you borrow the Bat-Wing?"
"Are you serious?!" Cassie exclaimed. Raven took that opportunity to leave, muttering something about researching the opponent who'd done this.
"Not right now. Maybe tonight," Tim said.
Relief flooded through Jason. He could get through a day as a human. Just one day. It would be all right. "Thanks, Tim."
Cassie threw her hands up in exasperation. "Are you both completely nuts?"
"Well you weren't going to help me," Jason pointed out.
She looked over at Tim, but he said nothing, just glanced at her once. The rest of Jason's physical tests came up normal—human normal, which was the furthest thing from normal for him. Cassie blew an irritated breath from her nostrils and glared at them both. "Okay, fine. You two boys go break into Superman's clubhouse looking for an answer that might not even be there."
"Cassie, shut up," Jason said. He'd had enough of her attitude. And wonder of wonders, she actually did, staring at him in utter shock. "One, we're not breaking in, I have every right to be there, it's more museum than clubhouse and that heritage is mine, too. Two, if you're not gonna help me, then just butt out until I get this taken care of. At least Tim's willing to be part of the solution instead of part of the problem."
Tim mouthed the word "Careful" while his back was to Cassie, giving Jason a pointed look, but he was way past being careful.
So was Cassie, apparently. "Are you even listening to yourself? Jason, you're being totally schizoid about this whole deal. And what makes you think you can talk to me like that, anyway? Exactly how hard did you hit your head when you tripped over yourself?"
"Excuse you? Last I checked you were my girlfriend, you were supposed to be there for me in my hour of need, not flip out on me! Excuse me if I'm a little ticked off!"
"A little? You call this a little ticked off? You're biting my head off over everything I say!"
"This is so much more than that," Jason growled. "It's kind of sad that my girlfriend won't help me. Luckily my best friend will."
Cassie could have a sharp tongue on her when she felt she was in the right. So far in their relationship, and in the friendship before it, Jason had never run afoul of it. Today, however, both of their patience was gone, and she snapped right back at him. "Oh, yeah, go ahead and make this a 'bros before hos' thing. Just when I thought you weren't like the rest of the guys. One time you actually get hurt and I try to make you see sense, and here we are. Great."
"Nobody ever said that, Cassie," Tim interjected.
By doing so he earned himself a serving of Cassie's ire. "What? Don't take his side, Tim. You're supposed to be the smart one around here. Besides, you know half the superhero fandom already 'ships you two anyway, don't make it worse."
"Yeah, well, the other half of the fandom ships me with my sister, so nobody really pays attention to them," Jason snarled back. "They have no idea who we really are out of uniform—and whose loyalties are strongest."
"You're questioning my loyalty now? When you're the one running like a scared kid, not wanting to talk to any of the people who could actually help? Dammit, Jason…."
"Oh boy, that's enough," Tim said sharply, before Jason could even open his mouth to respond. Not that he had anything coherent to say; his brain was a fog of terror and outrage. Distracted, they both looked at him, and Tim pointed to the door. "Cassie, out. Jason, relax."
"You're telling me to get out?" Cassie sounded more shocked than anything else.
"Yes, I am. I've got a couple more tests I want to run, and I need Jason as calm as possible to keep from skewing the readings." That was Tim's team-leader voice, and though they might run the Titans as a triumvirate most of the time, right now he looked and sounded like a leader.
For one thing, he was the only calm person in the medical suite.
Cassie stared at him in utter disbelief—and hurt, Jason finally saw. Tim had successfully derailed him from the imminent explosion of temper, and only now did he realize just what a jerk he'd just been. It was too late, though. Cassie spun on her heel and stalked out, leaving them alone.
Jason fumed, but Tim put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. Let's get through the rest of this testing."
"All right," Jason replied, tried to settle down. It wasn't exactly easy at the moment, but with just Tim in the room, he could almost manage it.
…
"So are you going to tell me where you were that day?"
Elise fought down the urge to scream at Corrin, and just gritted her teeth and glared at her textbook instead. She had failed to answer a text he sent her the other week to finalize dinner plans for the evening, and then been completely unavailable most of the day. It would've been okay if she was any good at making things up on short notice, but quite frankly, Elise just wasn't. Her excuse—that it was something embarrassingly personal she refused to discuss—was flimsy even by her own standards, and Corrin just would not stop picking at it. And it wasn't like she could tell him she'd been strapped to a chair getting interviewed for a job she didn't even want.
She didn't want it, not really. The very last thing she wanted was to get even more involved in the superhero world. Coming to Berkeley had been the start of trying to have a normal life, something that seemed all too easy to forget about when she'd been with Jason. It had gotten to the point where hearing about him dismantling a giant robot with his bare hands was just another Tuesday, and after a while, the fact that that was her idea of normal now scared the hell out of her. Who was she in the midst of all that?
Of course, if she took the job offer, she'd know who she was in their world….
"Look, Elise, whatever it is, just tell me, all right?" Corrin said.
Her head snapped up, lips curling back in a sneer, ready to just lambaste him. And then Elise saw the look on his face, almost pleading, definitely worried. Maybe even fearful. Like the look Jason got when she talked about taking time off.
Jeez, did he think she was cheating on him? After all this time? Didn't he know that just wasn't in her nature? Jason had known, but Elise realized how much he was in her thoughts and kicked his memory away.
But how could she blame the guy? She'd disappeared on him, been totally unavailable, and now was refusing to talk about. Not to mention her ex was on her mind a lot lately…
…well, mostly because all of this was his damned fault. If she'd never gotten swept up in Jason Kent and his crazy life, Elise would be an ordinary college student right now. She never would've stowed away on a private plane or nearly gotten killed in Nevada, and she certainly wouldn't be attracting the attention of the freaking Justice League of America.
Of course, she never would've flown with Superman, or been trusted by his whole family, one of the very people few who knew the Supers in both their private and public lives. She never would've had the satisfaction of helping save her friend's life and defeat an evil madman, all at the age of sixteen.
She never would've understood why Jason tipped his head back and drank in the sun whenever he stepped into its light; never would've known that the warmth of his skin came from that same sun, a brightness she could savor even in the darkest room; never would've known the profound tenderness of him, who could throw a pickup truck like a fastball, wrapping his arms around her with all that strength carefully leashed.
And none of that was helping her right now, with Corrin's brow still furrowed as he looked at her. Elise sighed and tried to figure out what to say.
It's like this. I used to go out with Superboy. I know his real name, both of them, and since I'm a science major and the JLA needs scientists on board, that got me tapped for a job offer. Said job offer involved making me believe I was about to be electrocuted, since they had to know if I could keep more than just the Supers' secrets. So yeah, sorry I couldn't answer the phone and missed dinner, I was too busy trying not to pee my pants when freaking Oracle zapped me.
Oh yeah. That'd be great. Elise dropped her face into her palms. "Dammit, Corrin, let it go," she growled. "It's a matter of principle now. Last I checked I don't have your initials branded on my butt cheek, and I'm not your daughter either. I told you it was personal, I told you I wasn't seeing anyone else. Either you trust me, or you don't. That's it."
He sat in silence for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, the smallness of his tone wounded her. "Okay. Okay, Elise. Look, I'm sorry…."
She swore under her breath; she'd gone and hurt him, which was exactly what she hadn't meant to do. "No, Corrin, I'm sorry. But this is how it has to be."
And in his eyes she saw not one iota of understanding.
…
Tim was eyeing the rest of the Fortress, but Jason paid little attention to him. He was entirely focused on Jor-El's thoughtful expression on the crystal wall across the room. Meanwhile the huge diagnostic crystal hovered within a hair's breadth of Jason's bare chest, its light pulsing so brightly that Jason's eyes were narrowed to slits. He was watching for some hint of the diagnosis in Jor-El's countenance. Hoping for an answer, something he could understand and work around.
Jason didn't like or trust magic. It was too easy, and that was coming from a guy who could bench-press a circus worth of elephants with no apparent effort. Magic also seemed to make up the rules as it went along. As a science major, fascinated by the complex but logical forces that ruled the cosmos, the existence of magic upset his worldview.
And all of that was before it did something like this. Jason slammed down on that train of thought, forced to close his eyes as the crystal shone yet brighter. Standing here with the massive thing just above him was making him nervous, something he hadn't felt in the Fortress since he was a kid. But then, he hadn't worried about anything short of a building falling on him since he was seven or so.
The light died, and Jason looked up to his grandfather, hope beating in his chest. "It is strange," Jor-El intoned—in English, by Jason's request. Hearing him speak, Tim came back toward them both, his expression closed-off and neutral. Jason wanted him at least to know what was going on.
"How strange, Grandfather?" Jason asked as the diagnostic crystal retracted.
"It is the microcellular structures within each of your body's cells that fuel your powers, Jon-El. Kal-El chose to call them kryptonelles, in English. They absorb the rays of the yellow sun and return its power to you."
"I know this, Grandfather." He kept any impatience out of his tone. Jor-El could be pedantic, but he always had a point.
"The kryptonelles in your body are in perfect working order. The diagnostic crystal can find no flaw in them, or indeed in any of your systems. Yet the kryptonelles appear to be … dormant. For some reason they do not awaken and perform their function."
Jason swallowed, trying not to worry more. "Can they perhaps be stimulated?"
Jor-El's image nodded. "Perhaps. I already attempted to do so with the diagnostic crystal, but I was unsuccessful. There may be insufficient power within the Fortress itself."
That wasn't surprising. It was late winter, and the Fortress was above the Arctic circle, working on stored solar energy from the long polar summer. The last time Jor-El had jump-started a slumbering Kryptonian physiology, it had drained the Fortress completely. He wouldn't risk that again except in the most dire circumstances.
Sketching a bow to the image, Jason said, "Thank you, Grandfather. I shall seek an alternate power source."
"May you find it swiftly, Jon-El." They closed with traditional Kryptonian salutations, and then Jason grabbed his shirt and tugged it over his head. He already felt the chill in the air, something he'd never noticed here before. His metabolism normally kept him warm enough.
"Well, what do you want to do?" Tim asked. He'd been very quiet, but also very helpful, for which Jason would eventually remember to be grateful. At the moment his mind was running like an express train on narrow track.
"There's one more thing I want to try," he replied, grabbing up his jacket and putting that on as well. "My system just needs a jump-start, I think, and there's not enough solar power here. But I know where to get some."
Tim knew that meant high-altitude exposure. "Will you need the Bat-Wing? Because we've only got about another hour."
Jason shook his head, sliding his phone out of the jacket pocket. "Nah, I've got a line on a less-noticeable flyer. Even though I hate flying with her, this one time Kal's gonna be a lifesaver."
Of course, his twin was going to give him unending hell about sending her a text asking for a flight, but just at the moment he would welcome it as a return to normality.
"All right then," Tim said with a nod. "Let's get back. I've got one more thing I want to do tonight."
It was a mark of Jason's preoccupation that he never even asked what that one thing was.
…
"Hey, Cassie," Tim said quietly. It had taken him over an hour to find her, sitting on the roof of the Tower with her knees drawn up, staring out at the view. He'd expected her to have gone home, or gone out looking for trouble, but instead she'd stayed at the Tower.
She didn't even look around when he spoke. "How is he? Did the Fortress thing work?"
Tim sat down beside her. Cassie had no problem dangling her legs over the drop, while Tim preferred to straddle the parapet. Not that he was afraid of heights—no Robin was—but safety was not something to be ignored. Besides, this way he could look at her. "No, it didn't. The Fortress' diagnostics say there's nothing wrong with him. Everything's in perfect working order, it's just not fueling any powers right now. Kryptonian science can't tell why."
"He's gonna have to go to Zatanna. This is magic, and she knows more about it than anyone," Cassie said dully.
"Yeah, but going to her means going to the League, and he's still upset about that. He's going to try something else, and if that doesn't work I'll start on him about the League." Tim swung his feet idly, most of his weight balanced on his palms and seat bones, watching Cassie's face.
After a moment she spoke again. "If you've come to tell me what a horrible girlfriend I am, save it. I already know."
"You're not a horrible girlfriend," Tim told her.
Cassie turned to look at him sadly. "Oh yeah? Jason thinks I'm an insensitive cold-hearted witch."
"Jason isn't himself right now."
She chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, tell me about it. Whatever else the magic did to him, it pretty much shoved his head so far up his butt I'm surprised he can walk."
Taking a deep breath, Tim did his best to explain. This felt a little too much like telling Jason's secrets, but it needed to be done. Cassie simply didn't understand, and Jason was in no condition to tell her. Not coherently, anyway. "Look, Cassie … this is a huge deal to Jason."
She sighed hard enough to blow wispy blonde curls away from her face. "I know. The powers always are. I mean, my mom could take away my powers anytime she wanted until I turned eighteen, and I hated that. But really, if it's temporary it's nothing to freak out about." She paused, Tim waiting, and then added in a smaller voice, "And if it's not temporary, well, freaking out won't help."
"This isn't about the powers." That got her full attention at last.
"What do you mean?" Cassie looked so sad, so lost and lonely, that Tim just wanted to hug her. But giving her information would be more worthwhile in the long run.
"Look, when Jason was a kid…" Tim trailed off, then decided to attack this from the science angle. "Jason and Kala are first-generation Kryptonian-human hybrids. Different species from different galaxies. There's no way it even makes sense for them to exist. And obviously there are some problems with hybridization even in closely-related species. With them, the problems were magnified."
Cassie's brow furrowed. "What kind of problems? They're both ridiculously healthy now. Jason's never had so much as a cold the whole time I've known him, and his sister is always full of energy, too."
"Yes, but that's now. He told me how it was when they were little. Both twins were allergic to gluten, dairy, eggs, shellfish, nuts, a whole bunch of stuff. When they were little they pretty much lived on macrobiotic shakes and meat-and-leafy-greens burritos. Jason had asthma, they both had a bunch of nutritional issues, and both of them were on steroids at the age of six just to try to build some muscle and deal with some of the allergies. There were immune system issues, too. He's showed me pictures from back then. Cassie … they were both so fragile. It's a wonder Lois Lane managed to keep them alive."
"What happened?" Her voice had dropped to a stunned whisper.
Tim continued the story with an angry curl of his lip for one of the principals. "When they were six, Lex Luthor figured out who their father is and kidnapped them. He was keeping them both on an island made of impure kryptonite—and neither of them is immune. The bastard almost killed them both just to get Superman in range. And then he almost killed Superman. If Kala hadn't attacked him…."
"Wait, Kala attacked him? At six years old?" Cassie's eyebrows went up in disbelief.
Nodding, Tim let himself smile again. "She's a fighter, Cassie. According to Jason, she bit Luthor for threatening her dad. And Luthor threw her off the side of the island into the ocean. In November."
Cassie looked stricken. "Oh my God."
Tim let himself think, just for a moment, about what could've happened. The world could have lost Superman that day, as well as Superboy and the Blur. Tim could've lost his best friend, someone who understood all the geeky stuff he loved, before he even met Jason.
He shook off the dark thought before it could really sink in. "Lucky for us, Superman saved them both. He needed the sunlight for himself, to cure the kryptonite poisoning, and it worked on them, too. Somehow the sunlight kicked their powers into high gear, and both of them were in perfect health by the end of the month. Jason went from taking seven different drugs every day to not even needing cold medicine."
"Oh," she whispered, biting her lip.
Tim put one hand on her shoulder. "It's not like it was for you, Cassie. Jason was never a normal human. For as much like a regular guy as he seems, he's never really been one. And he's scared out of his mind that his powers are gone for good, and that if they are, all those health problems will come back too."
"Sweet mother of … he thinks he's gonna die." Cassie groaned, smacking her palm against her forehead. "And I'm so damn helpful. He must hate me."
"He's not gonna die. We both know that." Tim left unspoken the fact that the two of them would do anything—including going behind Jason's back and talking to the League—to make sure he got better.
He smiled and added, "And he doesn't hate you, Cassie. He loves you and he's freaking out because he can't figure out how to fix this on his own. Give him time. He'll get settled."
She finally smiled back, and leaned in to hug him. "Thanks, Tim."
"You're welcome," he said. "Just don't tell him I told you."
"Oh, I won't. I'm not that horrible." Her chuckle was weak, but it was there, and that was all Tim needed.
…
Jason Todd had crossed the border at Niagara Falls and felt American soil beneath his feet for the first time in way too long. It hadn't been difficult. He had good papers; they'd been easy to get, there were lots of guys with his general build and coloring, and he had simply stolen a passport from someone who probably wouldn't even look for it for a few days. All the things that made Jay so distinctive and so deadly were skills and attributes that weren't easy to spot at a casual glance. He had upped his chances by taking an open slot in a tour group, so Customs had just waved him by with the rest of the herd, not even taking a second glance at him. Easy-peasy.
Home, back home, and within five minutes Jay had found a vendor selling chili dogs out of a cart on the sidewalk. He'd bought three, loaded up with chili, cheese, onions, and plenty of mustard. The actual hot dog meat was nothing to write home about, and the chili probably came out of a can, but the whole combination was somehow more delicious than any of the fancy high-priced meals Talia had ever ordered for him.
Her name brought a flare of anger. Trust no one. That was his motto from here on out, with one little addendum: especially not beautiful women who want to give you lots and lots of money.
Heh. Jay could bet she couldn't walk across the U.S. border as easily he did. Then again, her old man was the granddaddy of all terrorists, wasn't he? He made bin Laden and company look like small-timers.
Chowing down on the chili dogs, Jay had ambled with the crowd. He had accounts in Switzerland and the Grand Caymans, a couple grand in mixed bills and traveler's checks, plus thirty thousand dollars in gold and diamonds secreted in his clothes and luggage. There were additional funds, weapons, and other assets—along with the toys he'd managed to bring along—waiting in P.O. boxes in four or five locations, sent before he'd even left Europe.
The new TSA rules made it a lot harder to fly armed, so he'd had to content himself with relying on the air marshals in case of trouble. Yeah, right. He'd been the most dangerous thing on the plane, and that was even true while he slept.
He'd brought the kriss, of course, and that had been a real challenge. Jay wasn't about to let that knife out of his hands even for a few minutes. It was too damned useful. Properly honed, the thing would cut just about anything. Jay had no idea whether or not there was some kind of mystic al Ghul mumbo-jumbo attached to it; as far as he was concerned, it just worked. In the end he'd had to stash it where he couldn't draw it quickly. It was still with him, and never out of his sight for more than three seconds.
Besides, he was more than capable of dealing with most threats with just his fists and feet. And brain, of course. The mind is the most powerful weapon of all. That was another al Ghul saying, one he'd heard first from Bruce.
His mind was full of plans and backups … and roadmaps. Jay needed to get back to Gotham, where the rest of his arsenal was cached. By now Bruce might've found some of it, but he'd been a busy little squirrel the last time he was in town, and there should've still been plenty of tasty nuts to see him through the winter.
Even if the worst had happened and the big bad Bat had stolen it all, Jay could be back in business pretty quick. It would take him less than a week to figure out which of the crooks in town had the best armory, and then just take their stuff. No trying to control the crime this time around, no negotiations, no taking kickbacks. He'd just kill the rottenest bastards he could find. And in Gotham, that would be a pretty tough competition, considering the average level of rot.
Of course, he still had the problem of getting to Gotham. Getting from Niagara to Buffalo had been easy; he'd just gotten on the convenient hotel shuttle with the rest of the tour group. Of course, Jay wasn't going to stay in the tour's hotel. Too bright, too crowded, too obvious. He slipped away to consider his options. With only one wheeled carry-on bag, he could step into any coffee shop and not look out of place while he perused his options.
Boosting a car was out. It was the simplest method of transportation, but a car would get reported stolen, and that might get him pulled over. Jay didn't want to shoot an honest cop if he could help it. And out here, more of them were honest than in Gotham.
Greyhound bus was a no-go. Too crowded, no room to maneuver, he'd be antsy and paranoid the whole time. And flying was just plain dumb. If Bruce was looking for him to return, he'd be scoping the airport.
Now, train travel, that was a good compromise. A sleeper compartment for some privacy and room to stretch out, plus it was kind of under the radar. Most people didn't even think about passenger trains anymore. Bruce did, of course, and he'd be watching the train terminal, but Jay wasn't going to make it easy.
Jay had found no flaws with that plan, and the trip was quite luxurious—Buffalo to New York, and then switching trains to head southward. He'd actually bought a ticket to Charlotte, North Carolina, just to allay suspicions. And when he got off the train, it wasn't in Gotham City. No, Jay hopped off in Metropolis and slipped away into the city.
So much different than Gotham, so much brighter and shinier, but Jay had a knack for finding the dark, gritty crevices of any city, and sliding into them like a long-lost home. Metropolis had them too, and two Franklins slipped across the motel desk to a shifty-eyed clerk got him a clean, comfy room—to his standards of clean and comfy—without having to show any ID or make any sort of record that he'd stayed there.
There was no real reason to stay a night in Metropolis, except that it broke his trail. Jay didn't know if Talia still had people tracking him; he hadn't seen any for days. It would be like her to let him run for a while, her bloodhounds carefully staying a week behind him, just to let him feel secure before she pounced.
Part of him hoped she'd send someone after him, just so he'd have a fight that really tested his skills. Most of him thought that was freaking stupid, she had the money and the manpower to hunt him for the rest of his life, so why give her any incentive to do so? He'd slipped his leash, what was between them was done, and maybe she'd seen that and let him go.
Jay thought Talia might be capable of doing that. Her father sure as hell wasn't, and as jealous as he was over the damn Lazarus Pits, Jay ought to watch his back-trail to make sure Ra's al Ghul wasn't hunting him, too.
A night in Metropolis made no sense when his goal was Gotham—as everyone who knew anything about him would guess. And that was precisely why he did it. Jay was the wildcard, he knew when to be unpredictable, and more than once it had saved his life.
Tomorrow he'd research shipping schedules, and after nightfall he'd stow away on a truck bound for Gotham City. No track to follow, no ticket to trace, and no one would question the various items he'd retrieved and stashed in his luggage. Of course, that left him with a night to himself during which he had no plans except to keep an eye out for anyone trying to find him.
Time to be unpredictable again. Jay picked up a few items of clothing and some other accessories; with five minutes of effort he looked like the kind of person who pretended to be a punk, but was actually about as dangerous as a bunny slipper. And then he went cruising the club district. Lots of crowds there, but safe for him to roam—he was the only one armed, for one thing. Oh, some of the Goth kids might think they were being daring by carrying some kind of fancy dagger, but Jay had five throwing knives hidden on his person, the kriss lying against the nape of his neck, and a blackjack in his pocket. Any of which could've gotten him arrested, but if he got to the point where a cop was frisking him, he was already screwed.
Jay wandered, letting his mind idle, not looking for anything specific but just trying to pick up on patterns. People who didn't flow with the crowd, maybe the same person spotted twice, or the sort of stance and gait that betrayed a lifetime of martial arts training. He saw a whole lot of nothing, just kids being kids. They were more or less his age, but none of them had a fraction of a clue about how the world really worked. All of them thought they were so edgy and cool. Jay chuckled under his breath. Had he ever been so painfully naïve?
Eventually he drifted into an alleyway and melted into the shadows, leaning against the wall of a club. No one came after him, not even when he handed them this perfect opportunity, and he began to relax a little.
That was when he noticed the music. Sure, the thumping bass transmitted perfectly well through the cinderblock wall, but he could hear guitars, too. Somewhere a door was open. Good vocal work, the guy singing could carry a tune, a nice roughness to his singing. Not Jay's genre, but not bad. Not like the caterwauling he'd heard spilling forth from some of the places he'd passed.
And then another voice came in, a woman's voice, with ringing purity that knifed him even out here. She didn't need a microphone; whoever she was, she had a helluva set of lungs on her to project her voice that well without screaming.
"We have the force to fight!" rang out from the guy who'd been singing before, and the woman chimed in with "We have the blinding light!" Then both of them sang "We have the will to win, forever we'll defend."
The music roared, drowning out the next verse, but Jay listened, intrigued. A moment later he heard the voices again, singing in unison. "We have the force to fight, we have the blinding light! A war is more than heard, coming in louder than words! Louder … louder … coming in … louder than words!"
The crowd went nuts as they repeated the refrain, and to Jay's surprise he was grinning. It might be some kind of goofy Goth-rock, but the singers sounded ferocious enough to please him.
He didn't go inside, though. With his luck they'd both be classic American couch potatoes stuffed into too much leather and lace, and the woman's golden voice would be matched to a face only a fanboy could love. Better to just listen.
And so thinking, Jay moved out of the alley and on with his life, past the marquee proclaiming that the Stone Chronicles were featured that night, and with no idea just who he'd been listening to.