Chapter 5
Wait a second.
Jason inspected the handlebars of Helena's bike and saw a whole kit of complex levers and thumb buttons.
This wasn't just a high-end motorcycle.
It was a Batcycle.
What the fuck is Helena doing with this?
Jason's first thought was that she stole it. When they were younger, they had both gone on joyrides with vehicles from the Wayne family garage, often together. Only Jason had dared take vehicles from the actual Batcave without permission.
But was a joyride with a Batcycle enough to warrant a week-long "vacation" in an off-grid safe house?
As far as he knew, Helena's university in Star City wasn't currently on a break, so she was ditching her classes to be here. Maybe these were all minor acts in a more significant spree of anti-Bruce rebellion. He could respect that. He liked it better than his previous idea about an abusive ex-boyfriend.
But he was ready and able to endure the consequences of going against Bruce's commands. So was Barbara.
Helena, however... She had never truly pissed Bruce off, only frustrated him with naive mistakes that were easily forgivable. Or so Jason and her mother had convinced him of such, shielding her from blame.
A sharp honking sound drew Jason away from his thoughts. It was coming from outside. He went to the garage door and pulled on the chain to roll it up, hoping the clatter wouldn't wake Helena.
The bright mid-day sun almost blinded him, so he grabbed some sunglasses from his workbench.
A flatbed truck was parked outside the garage. The driver yelled at Jason through his window. "About damn time! Care to lend a hand?"
So, Jason guided the delivery driver while he used the winch and tilting flatbed to unload the 10-foot shipping container. Once the container was on the ground, the driver inspected it, lingering on the logo painted on the side. "Queen Industries, huh? That fancy tech company that's been giving Wayne Enterprises a run for their money lately?"
"Yep," Jason said, unlocking the door.
"So what's in this thing?" The man stepped around to get a bitter look.
Jason waved his hand around the lot, indicating all the junked vehicles. "Auto parts." He pulled the door open to reveal boxes and crates wrapped in plastic.
"Hmm." The man seemed unsatisfied and gave Jason a clipboard to sign. As he did so, Jason caught the man eye-balling Helena's bike and the 70s-era Dodge Challenger he had driven from Metropolis. "Nice rides."
Jason didn't like that look. "Thanks." He handed the clipboard back.
"Alright. Have a good day," the man tipped his hat to Jason and hopped back into his truck. He drove away but gave the bike and car a long last glance.
So much for keeping a low profile, Jason thought. Two expensive vehicles stood out in a lot of junk and scrap.
Turning his attention back to the container, he noticed one of the most oversized boxes had a QR stamp. He scanned it with his phone, pulling up a large PDF.
He scrolled through it, pausing every few pages to zoom in on a diagram or a schematic. These were all made-to-order custom parts from Queen Industries' research and development department, Q-Core. Roy used to work there as an engineer before falling out with his mentor Oliver Queen.
Jason placed his phone on his workbench, grabbed a box cutter, and started slashing away the plastic wrapping the boxes from the container. He eventually freed one package from the bundle and sliced it open. Tossing away packing foam, Jason pulled out the fuel tank cover of a motorcycle, painted matte black with glossy candy apple pinstripes. A smile grew on his face, and he gently kissed the tank. "Yeah, baby. Let's do this."
He felt like a little kid on his birthday. This is what he left his teammates behind for. Despite his morning's somber tone, Jason felt a little giddy and excited.
He set his speakers to play 8o's Metal, rubbed his hands together, and built his brand-new motorcycle.
#
"So this is the project you were talking about."
Jason jumped to his feet and brandished the wrench in his hand like a knife, his heart racing.
Helena was sitting on the stairs to the loft, sipping a mug of coffee, and smirking at him. Her yellow-green eyes twinkled. She wore boots, torn-up black jeans, and a tiny tank top. Her freshly brushed hair was pulled into a half ponytail.
Jason's heart shifted into a new gear, slowing down but still thrumming. He lowered the volume of his speakers. "How long have you been up there?"
She scrunched up her face, thinking, "I think Ozzy's 'Shot in the Dark' was playing." That was about two songs ago.
He looked outside the garage. The daylight had dimmed considerably. The sun was setting over Gotham's skyline across the bay.
Jason twirled his wrench around. "Lost track of time."
Helena picked up a second mug of coffee from the step she was sitting on and descended. She approached the lift table Jason had been working on and handed him the cup. There was a feline grace to her step. "She's beautiful."
"Yeah," Jason said, looking at her. "She is."
Helena looked up at him.
Jason's eyes darted down to his coffee.
He took a sip and nodded appreciatively. As a nocturnal vigilante, he was coffee dependent. And this was a latte, his favorite. She remembered.
"You like it?" she asked.
"Yeah. Thanks."
"You're going to build this whole thing yourself? That's really cool."
"I still have a long way to go." He inspected his work again. He had started by mounting the frame to the engine and putting together the panels for the fuel tank, seat, and tail light. He had just finished setting up the front fork and fender and was now working on the arm that held the rear wheel.
He didn't want to tell Helena that everything he'd just done, he'd have to take apart again. It was only put together like this to help him plan the modifications and welding he would have to do. The design was Roy's, but he wanted to mold it better to his preferences.
"Are we gonna go riding together when it's done?" Helena asked, walking over to her bike. "Like old times?"
Jason took off his hat and combed his hair back with his fingers. "Yeah, I wanted to ask you about your bike. Don't you think that's a little overkill for cruising around town?"
"What do you mean?" Helena frowned.
"I mean, you stole a Batcycle. Helena. No wonder you don't want your dad to know you're here."
She grabbed the handlebar possessively, looking a little ticked off. "What makes you think I stole it? It's mine."
"Why would your father give you a fully-loaded Batcycle? He doesn't want you anywhere near the vigilante life."
"It's not his to give. It never belonged to him." Her anger deflated. She loosened her grip on the handlebars and lowered her eyes. "It was my mom's."
Then Jason realized where he had seen the motorcycle before and why the purple finish was so familiar.
It belonged to Selina.