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Parasite Reborn (DC Comics Self Insert) Superhero

By: acidlime

I woke up cold in the middle of a corn field. I was lying down on the grass, and groggily woke…

Status: ongoing

Published: 2019-07-12

Updated: 2022-10-22

Words: 82697

Chapters: 27

Original source: https/forums./threads/56137

Exported with the assistance of

Parasite Reborn (DC Comics Self Insert) Superhero

Introduction

Chapter One (Emergence)

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten (Discovery)

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen (Shakedown)

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen (Nootropic)

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

SUPPLEMENTAL (Contact's Observations)

Interlude: On the farm

Chapter Twenty-Two (Flight Plan)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter One (Emergence)

I woke up cold in the middle of a corn field. I was lying down on the grass, and groggily woke up, completely nude, and began to take in my surroundings. There was a lot of corn. Like, a lot a lot. Completely surrounding me.

Left to my own devices, I was certain I'd die here.

You may scoff at that, but still, it wasn't the most unimaginable thing. I couldn't really see past the corn, and therefore, had no sense of direction. I tried to look up and see the north star, and the sky was clear, but I couldn't really tell which was the brightest. I mean, if you think about it, it's pretty subjective. Also, my dingle was out and I really didn't want to get eaten by bugs with my dingle out.

"Hey!" Someone shouted. "You- oh!" I turned around to see a floating girl. She was covering her eyes. I immediately covered up my immodest appearance.

"Hey, are you flying?" I asked, surprised.

"Why don't you have pants on?!" She shouted.

"I'm not sure!" I replied, honestly. She was really shapely. Wearing a farmer's clothes. Wherever it was, could people fly here? Was it just farmers? Was this space corn? Wow. Space corn! "Is this space corn?"

"What the heck are you talking about?: She yelled, and I realized this probably wasn't space.

"Are we on earth?" I asked.

"Yes!" She said, and peeked beyond her hand. When she saw I was covering up, she put her fists on her waist.

"Sorry, you're flying, I was confused." I looked at the corn surrounding us. "Where am I?"

"Smallville." She said.

"Like in Superman comics?" I asked. Then it put itself together for me. "Wait, are you Supergirl?"

"N-no." She said, and floated down to the opposite side of the crop circle I had woken up in looking very sheepish.

"But you were flying." I replied. "You just said this was Smallville, right? If you fly, and this is Smallville, wouldn't that make you Supergirl?"

"What are you doing here?!" She said, glowering at me.

"I just woke up here." I replied. "Am I in a comic book?"

"No." She said, dismissively.

"But you're Supergirl, and Supergirl is a comic book character. Wouldn't that make this a comic book?"

"I'm not Supergirl." She said. "And I'm not a comic book character."

"But you just said you weren't Supergirl."

"I didn't- I meant, I am not Supergirl, and I, as a person, am also not a comic book character."

"Okay, sure. You're a pretty blonde flying girl that lives in Smallville and you aren't Supergirl." I replied dismissively, which is difficult when you're holding your crotch.

"Whatever dude." She said. "Tell me why you're here."

"I just said that I woke up here, now who isn't listening?" I said.

"You- I never said-" She pinched her brow. "What were you doing before you woke up in our field?"

"I was reading on my phone, in the state of Maine." I said. "But now I guess I'm in Kansas in a fictional town."

"So you were reading on your phone, and then you woke up, and now you're here, in a real town not a fictional one."

"That's what I said, yes."

"I'm going to get you pants, and then we're going to figure this out." She said.

"That sounds very reasonable to me." I replied, and she walked out of the corn circle and then flew off. Like I didn't see that, she's totally Supergirl.

I waited alone for a minute or two, and then her and a boy appeared.

"'Sup?" The boy said.

"Hello." I replied.

"Here, take these." Supergirl said, and she handed me a pair of overalls. "They're my cousins, but you should fit them." She turned around.

"Your cousin Superman?" I asked, and started putting on the clothes. The boy didn't turn away when my modesty was removed, and when I finished dressing, he tapped her shoulder and she turned around.

"No. My cousin."

"Okay."

"So, you just "woke up" here." The boy said.

"That's what I told you, Connor." The girl said.

"So you're Superboy?" I asked.

"What?" He spluttered. "What makes you say that?" I then noticed the girl had donned eyeglasses, and the boy had them on.

"Well, she's Supergirl, and Superboy is Connor Kent, right?" I shrugged. "She just said your name was Connor."

"How do you know that?" He asked. "Superboy's name?"

"Because he's a comic book character? I know everyone's secret identity." I replied.

"What's Batman's?" Connor asked, and the girl slapped his arm.

"Connor!" She admonished.

"Bruce Wayne." I replied.

"Hot damn!" He cried, pumping an arm. "I knew it!"

"Connor!" The girl cried again, and Connor shrugged.

"What? He had you pegged and he knew who I was. What's to say that he isn't from a place where we're comic characters?" He looked at me. "What's her name?"

"Uh, her real one or her Kryptonian one?" I replied.

"Real one or Kryptonian one?" The girl looked angry. "That's racist."

"I'm sorry! You're totally right." I immediately realized my faux pas and then finished lamely. "Kara Zor-El."

"Yeah, he's got three for three there." Connor said. "I think we should get Clark."

"Connor, Clark will never take us seriously if we always call him." Kara replied. She walked over to me and grabbed my arm, and I felt an immediate shock and collapsed to the ground. Sensations became so intense, I could hear everything, and I felt so much.

"Kara! What did you do?"

"I just touched him, and-"

I felt myself lift off the ground, but was in no state to do anything about it.

"Kara!" I heard Connor cry, over the din of everything. "He's floating!"

"Oh crap!" She yelled.

I felt myself rising higher and higher until I passed out.

Chapter Two

"Can you hear me, son?" I regained consciousness when I felt a gentle touch. I opened my eyes.

"What happened?" I asked, groggily, sitting up. I was in a room covered in posters and pictures of a happy family.

"We're not exactly sure." The voice said, and I turned to it. There was an older man, looked like he was in his sixties, sitting next to me. "Martha! Clark! Kara! Connor! He's up!"

After he said that, a white dog zoomed into the room and began to lick my face. When it did so, I felt the same zap from before, and I braced myself. Nothing happened, or I should say, I was significantly less affected by the rush of information that began to pour into my senses. The man besides me was breathing, there were people walking up the stairs, and the dog kept licking my face. I heard "oh no, Krypto!" From the girl from earlier, and she flew into the room and pulled the dog off of me.

"Bad dog!" She said. "No jumping!"

"It's okay!" I said. "Unless you're trying to train him, then I'm sorry. But I'm fine."

"You gave our kids here quite the scare." The man, I assume who was Pa Kent, said. He continued. "Apparently you flew up a thousand feet after collapsing and then fell. The kids caught you, but you were in a coma for about 24 hours."

"Huh."

"Are you Kryptonian?" Kara asked me, putting Krypto on the ground. He immediately jumped to the end of my bed and sat there until I began to pet him.

"I doubt it." I replied, and she looked away, seemingly disappointed.

"Hey dude, sup?" Connor said as he walked in, followed by a tall man in a suit and an older woman in her sixties.

"Uh, hello again." I replied, and waved lamely. "Your dog is very friendly."

"What's his name?" Connor asked.

"He's Krypto the Superdog. He flew a minute ago, so that was a giveaway."

"See?!" Connor told the man in the suit. "How'd he know that?"

"Well, Kara did just say it." The besuited man said. "Hi there, son. I'm Clark Kent."

I stood stock still for a moment, in shock. "It's an honor sir. You're an inspiration to me."

"You read The Planet?" He asked.

"No, I mean-" I can't think. "You're Superman! The Man of Steel!"

"Huh, so he is in the know." Pa Kent said.

"How'd you know that?" Superman asked, and I told him.

"So I'm a comic book character?" He asked. "And so are my family?"

"Yeah, you're great! I read you all constantly. Depending on the writer, of course. There's a lot of weird politics in the comic industry where I'm from, not like politics-politics, but that everyone seems to want certain people to write things, and-"

"So you know everyone's identity?" Superman asked, and put a hand up. "I still find that hard to believe."

"It's a bit weird-"

"He said, to the clone and two aliens." Connor remarked, and I laughed. Connor perked up at that.

"Regardless, we're still unsure what happened. Why did you pass out two days ago?" Superman asked.

"Well, I woke up here, naked. Then I met Supergirl, and I was confused, then she grabbed my arm and it felt like I could hear everything. My senses went into overdrive. Then I started to float, and then I passed out." I explained.

"And when you woke up?" Superman asked. "How did you feel then?"

"Fine, I guess. But then your dog licked me and I could feel it all happen again, but it wasn't as intense."

"What's playing on the radio downstairs?" Superman asked. "Really focus on listening for a minute." He told me to do it, and so I did.

"Some local news station? Something about the…" I focused harder. "Cornhuskers in the Little League Championship?"

"Hot damn!" Pa said. "I knew they had the stuff!"

"Language, Pa!" Ma Kent said.

"Sorry, Ma." He apologized.

"Are you Kryptonian?" Superman asked.

"He doesn't think so." Kara said, and I shrugged in apology.

"This is an odd conundrum." Superman said.

"I'm sorry."

"What'd you do wrong?" Pa said, reassuringly, and put a hand on my shoulder.

"I think I woke up naked in Superman's parent's cornfield." I replied, and he and Connor chuckled.

"Call me Clark, son." Clark said.

"Sure."

"I can't believe we haven't asked!" Connor said. "What's your name dude?"

"Uh, Stephen." I said. "With a 'ph'."

"You go by Steve?" Connor asked.

"Sure."

"Well, nice to meet you, Steve." He said, and put out a hand. I shook it hard, as I had been taught by my parents. When I pulled away, his smile was even bigger.

"Firm handshake?" He asked, and I nodded.

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, that was my full strength. You just got a firm handshake by a kryptonian-human hybrid and your hand wasn't broken."

"Connor!" Ma, Kara, and Clark all admonished.

"What? He's got a kryptonian level of power, just by touching us! That's an insane power!"

"Power?" I asked, and felt dizzy. "Uh, I don't have powers."

"Not according to me, and not according to what happened." Connor said. "You flew, dude."

"Oh yeah." I said. "Could you tell me where the bathroom is?"

"Down the hall to your right." Ma said.

"Thanks." I replied, and got up from the bed, and shakily made my way to the bathroom, trying to account for the fact I apparently had super strength. I closed the door gently and began to dry heave.

"Oh great." I heard Connor say.

"You're gonna clean it up, Connor." Pa said.

"What? Aw man."

As I sat there, apparently immersed in the conversation happening across the way from me, I felt completely shaken. This had been the biggest shock I had ever received, and on a good day I wouldn't call myself an entirely stable, put-together person. But here I was, in a comic book, with Superman and his family.

I got up,pulled myself together, and walked back in.

"Sorry." I said.

"Look, Steve, I have to make a call." Clark said. "But why don't you let my folks feed you, and get you some new clothes?" He walked out, and I turned to Pa.

"I hope I'm not imposing."

"We don't mind. I could use a new hand around here. Hell, with a third kid with superpowers, the work'll go even faster."

"A new hand?"

"Well, from what you've said, son. There isn't necessarily a place for you here, is there?" Pa said, and I thought about it.

"I don't know, but if you're offering a place to stay, I won't turn it down. I kind of can't." I scratched my head.

Pa laughed.

"Now, I know Martha's cooking up a big breakfast for all of us, why don't you take a shower and put on some new clothes and join us?"

"Sounds good." I said.

"Great! Kara'll show you around."

"I will?" She asked, and Pa gave her a look. "I will."

"There's some of Clark's old clothes in the hope chest, you're about his size. We'll get them for you."

"Thanks. You're being too kind."

"We don't show people in need the door here in the Kent house, son. It's not how we were raised." Pa said.

"Sure isn't." Ma said, and gave me a smile.

Then they walked out, and I was left with Kara and Connor.

"I'm sure they'll keep you in here." Connor said. "I took the older guest room, and Kara was in the newer old guest room."

"Whose room is this?"

"Clark's." He said. "He and Lois come around every so often, but with her being pregnant and not wanting to travel, it isn't happening as much."

"Lois Lane?" I ask.

"Ha!" Connor laughs. "That's a neat party trick. Remind me to introduce you to the Titans."

"Uh, sure." I say, and he nods and leaves, with me and Kara. She's sitting on a chair in front of a desk with an ancient computer. "Hey, I'm sorry about the other day."

"Well, it seems to have worked out for you." She said, and I feel weird. Like, not guilty, just a general discomfort.

"Uh…"

"Here you go!" Pa said, and put down some old jeans, a belt, and a worn button down. "We'll have to get you some undergarments, but these'll work for now."

"Thanks. Where's the shower?"

"Where you puked, son."

"Ah. I didn't- thank you." Well, this is awkward. I grabbed the clothes, and he handed me a towel, and I went to bathe. I looked the same, out of shape, schlubby, brown overgrown hair that needed a wash, and I felt the same, but apparently I was super strong, and I guess I was living in the Kent house.

Last edited: Jul 13, 2019

Chapter Three

"So do you have a last name?" Clark asked around a plate piled with bacon and eggs. I had one too that I was making work of.

"Sure, it's-" My brain had a fart. "Hold on, I can't- I can't seem to remember."

"Like, amnesia?" Connor asked.

"No, I just-" I thought hard. "It's like when you have to remember a celebrity but can't place it. I don't really know."

"That sucks dude." He said, and went back to eating. Kara was glowering at me, Clark was studying me, and Ma and Pa were joyfully talking about all the extra work they'd get done.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 23." I said. "But what year is it here?"

"2019." The three younger Kents all said at the same time.

"Ah. So yeah, still 23 here."

"So, what do you think happened?" Clark asked. "What's you hypothesis for this current situation?"

"Well, this is another universe, probably. I mean, I'm having breakfast with my childhood heroes."

"Heroes?" Kara asked.

"Yeah, all of you. I loved reading about your adventures when I was a kid." I began to gush. "The Death and Return of Superman, The Reign of The Supermen, Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow, What's so Funny about Truth, Justice & The American Way?, there's a ton of great stories of your lives in my world."

"Those things, you mean when I fought Doomsday?" Clark asked. "What happened in the other two?"

"Well, the first is a writer trying to tell the story of your "death" but really he's just trying to write an end to your silver-age of comic books version, and the other has you demonstrating to these guys called The Elite that your philosophy of not killing people isn't stupid." I said. "There's also a bunch of cool stories about Superboy and Supergirl, but I always read them more in team books, like Young Justice and Teen Titans. I read some of the original Superboy run but it was too nineties…" I trail off, when I see their looks. "Sorry. These are your real lives, aren't they? I shouldn't be so callous."

"So you know the future, then?" Clark asked. "Because I fought The Elite, and Doomsday-"

"No!" I said quickly. "I definitely don't. My experience with comic books is based on writers, on what they want to do with characters, there's also continuities."

"Continuities?" Connor asked, and I nod.

"There are TV Shows, video games, there's so much media that I can't possibly be sure what is and isn't going to happen."

"So are you a huge dork where you come from?" Connor asked, in jest, and I cringe a bit.

"Well, I have a hobby. It's kind of waned in the last few years. I'm a college student and comics can be expensive in some instances."

"So, you're just some know-it-all from another world, is what I'm hearing." Kara said. The room goes quiet.

"Kara!" Ma begins, but Kara doesn't stop.

"Well, you all may be convinced that this guy is on the level, but what proof is there? He's a stranger who appeared on our farm at night, naked, and he has information about all of us, so we're just gonna give him a place to stay?" She asked. "Can no one else see the danger there?"

"That's what you do, Kara, when someone needs a hand, you give it." Pa said.

"Well, that might be a human thing to do, but I don't trust him, and that must be the Kryptonian instincts in me." She said, and stormed to the door. "And I'm not showing him around!" She opened the door and flew out.

"Wow." Connor said. "What's that about?"

"I'll go talk to her." Clark said, and walked over to the open door and closed it behind him.

"Sorry about her." Connor said. "She just got here, and she's having a tough time."

"She just got here?" I asked. "Like, her meteor just landed?"

"You know about that? Yeah, almost half a year now, but she has these moments where she gets into real moods about Krypton." Connor stopped for a minute. "She was able to see it all happening, and then she got pulled into some event that kept her from reaching here before Clark did. She's got issues about it. I get it, I mean, I had a rough go in the beginning, but there's nothing really more I can do. I dunno. She and I- I wish we got along better."

"Give it time Connor." Pa said.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty awful at this sort of thing, but it seems like you guys are siblings to me." I said, trying to lighten the heavy mood. I focused on eating my food, and as soon as I'm finished, Ma Kent directed me to a dishwasher.

"Clark bought it for us, isn't he a sweetheart? He told me that he 'didn't want me slaving over a sink anymore.' Like it mattered that much to begin with! But he was sweet for the gesture, and he keeps bringing kids here so I get work out of it."

"So, what can I do to earn my keep?" I asked, and Pa grinned. He began to explain.

"So, we just do this? For the rest of the day?" I asked Connor, who was also beginning to sweat in the sun.

"Sure, toss in the hay bales for storage, then we go and herd the cows, and then we get the equipment moved into the barn."

"Okay." The whole group of Kryptonians is mega toned, so I assumed working in this manner would help me get into better shape than I was, and that would be a necessity if I were to become any sort of hero here. So I kept my mouth shut, and used any abilities I had to help when I could.

"So wait." I asked, as we were herding the cows. "How does the heat vision work?"

"I haven't got heat vision. I have flying and strength and the senses, but I haven't got the cold breath or the heat vision. If you took my powers, I'd be able to teach you how to use my TK, but you took Krypto's." Connor said.

"Does Krypto have heat vision?" I asked.

"I thought you knew all that stuff?" Connor asked as he took off his shirt.

"I'm not an encyclopedia. I have lapses in memory. The broad strokes are there." I replied, looking at his physique and resolving to keep my own shirt on.

"So lemme ask, who is… Green Lantern?" Connor asked.

"Which one?" I replied.

"Good point. How about Flash?" He continued.

"Which one?" I replied, and he stuck his tongue out at me.

"Don't be a dick." He said, and I chuckled.

"Well, I mean, the Flash is either Wally West or Barry Allen, and Green Lantern is one of four dudes."

"It's Barry. He's the Flash with the league right now. Returned to life, after like, ten years. Kid Flash was pretty stoked about that."

"Bart Allen." I said, and Connor laughed.

"True."

"So wait, you didn't know who Batman was?" I asked, and Connor shrugged.

"Batman keeps it close to the vest. There are a lot of people who don't know who he really is, and I'm kind of kept in the dark about a lot of stuff."

"Aren't you tight with Robin?" I asked, and Connor looked away.

"That… whole situation is messy right now. It's partly why I'm here on a Sunday instead of at the Titans Tower."

"You can…" I searched for something to say. "Talk to me about it?"

"We don't know each other that well, dude." Connor looked at me with a bemused expression.

"It seemed like the right thing to say."I said, and he laughed.

"So the Justice League is like, a whole organization? That's different than what I know." I said, and Connor raised an eyebrow. We were lifting a tractor into the storage space in the barn. It was astonishing me at how easy it was to lift up tons of metal. These people have one tough dog. "Well, in the comics it's different."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, it isn't an organization of people dispatched by a governing body, it's more like a team of seven or eight people."

"Well, our Justice League isn't that big. It's like, thirty people, but the roster of constants is like, seven or eight." Connor explained.

"That's cool." I said. "Who's on it now?"

"Clark, Batman, Wonder Woman, Cyborg, Flash, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, those are the constants right now."

"That's pretty typical, Cyborg is really taking up that seventh spot a lot more."

"Vic is psyched about it. Wait-"

"Victor Stone."

"Yeah, Vic is really psyched about it. He was always like, the caretaker of us in the Titans, but when he finally got the call up, we all told him to take it."

"I'm glad. He's a capable dude."

"You talk like you know us." Connor said, a bit abruptly. "And you say things with such familiarity that I feel like I'm talking to an old acquaintance in the know. It's kind of funny."

"Well, if you think about it, I've been kind of there for most of it, in a way." I thought deeply for a moment. "I'm kind of privy to people's lives in a way that might cause some interpersonal problems if they figure out how intimately I've seen these things happen." I admitted, and Connor nodded.

"Sure."

"It seems valuable to me that I know these things though. Like, if I were to ever get into a conversation with like, Elongated Man, this context would be important." I shrug at him. "What do you think?"

"I could honestly see it going either way. Like, there are people who would get really offended if you showed up and were like 'I really like your comic book', but for me, it's kind of cool. It means someone out in other universes really gives a shit about me." That seemed like an odd thing to say, so I ignored the subtext and decided to just keep going with my train of thought.

"Yeah dude, you have a lot of support right now, there's a TV show with you in it, and people love your t-shirt costume thing. Really easy to cosplay." I said.

"I kind of wanted a 'workingman's superhero' thing with it." Connor said, and I nodded.

"It's very Springsteen." I replied, and Connor seemed pleased with the comparison.

"What about your world, man?" Connor asked me. "What would really blow my hair back about your version of Earth?"

"I mean, you have a TV show." I said. "There are superhero movies, they're pretty good. There's also like, different competing companies who try and sell the most comics about superheroes, so like, a superhero's solo title might not sell well and will disappear from shelves for a while, or go into a team book where they join a supporting cast, and then they'll get development there. I can't really say much about the smaller differences right now, I don't have much context. Donald Trump is the president. That's pretty interesting, from an objective viewpoint, regardless of politics."

"The dude from Who Wants to Be A Millionaire?"

"I guess? I don't really know your television."

"Huh." He said, and I nodded.

"If we give it time, I'm sure there'll be more differences. If today is any barometer, then I won't get much free time to watch television or read the internet." I wiped the sweat from brow in emphasis.

"Pa keeps us busy."

"Should I call him Pa?" I asked, and Connor thought for a moment.

"When you've earned it, I think he won't mind."

"I-" I was about to ask how I would earn that privilege, but decided to drop it. "Thanks for letting me know."

Chapter Four

When Connor and I finished, we were told to go and bathe by Ma Kent, who handed me a pile of old clothes of Superman's. She told us to clean up for dinner as I stared in awe at the clothes. I was aware that I needed to stop fanboying, but the impulse hadn't yet managed to escape me yet. Superman's clothes, I couldn't believe it.

I couldn't see Kara or Superman, and I felt bad about that. Obviously something I had done had affected her, and I wasn't aware of how. I was acutely aware I couldn't help her, as it seemed she was dealing with things besides my sudden occurence in the life of the Kents, but even knowing that couldn't get me to shake the feeling I had done something wrong. It had been plaguing me all day.

I washed all of the sweat and grime off, and wondered if I would feel sore tomorrow. It hadn't really strained me at all, and then I remembered the inherent solar power that the kryptonians absorbed probably interacted with their physiology to give them their toned forms.

I also had powers, which were copying the powers they had, so either I copied their unique alien physiologies, or I was just getting their abilities.

It astounded me how little I had spent thinking about these things, it had been really cool working with Connor all day, he was a cool guy.

The work had taken my mind away from the train of thought required for me to realize that I was dealing with a pretty insane personal situation, even without the huge life events that was me now living and breathing in Smallville, Kansas.

I had some sort of superpower, holy shit.

It was a cool one, too. I was like a douchey anime villain with copying powers! The realization made me strike a pose as I lathered, and I quickly grew embarrassed, they had-

I had super-vision. I could see anything.

Or, at least, now, I had super dog vision.

I decided not to think about that, as I really didn't want to blast a hole in the side of the house with heat vision I wasn't sure how to turn on and off, but I had x-ray vision. I was really tempted to use it, but decided that anything I could see would make me feel grossed out (The Kents) or really inadequate and chubby (Connor), and there was probably a "don't look through things" rule that allowed me to confidently say no to the idea. It made me just finish getting washed and put on some clothes.

I walked down the hall to the room, putting my old clothes in a hamper and hanging up my towel on a rack that seemed dedicated to that purpose, and went into the room I was living in.

"Who are you?" Said a gruff voice, and I jumped so hard I put my head through the ceiling.

That was awkward. It took me a second to dislodge my head, and an awkward helping hand tried to pull me down at the same time.

"I told you not to scare him." The voice of Superman said, as a firm yank from below pulled me loose.

"It's my job to scare him." Batman said. Batman. The Caped Crusader, in a costume that looked rad and finally explained to me how his costume was supposed to look in real life. Movies got it all wrong.

"You're Batman!" I exclaimed, before Superman put a hand over my mouth.

"Shh. Quiet for now. We need to talk." He said.

"Sure, anything to help you two. Wow. The Dark Knight. Superman. Pinch me, I must be dreaming." Luckily, neither hero obliged me.

"Superman here tells me you have information about myself. Information I'd prefer that no one ever knows." Batman said, grimace firmly placed on the exposed part of his face. "What's the breach? Talk."

"I don't know what you- wait, like a breach in your security? There is none. I'm from another universe."

"-Tt-." Came a noise. It seemed familiar, but I wasn't sure how. I couldn't place it in the room, either.

"Explain." Batman said. He looked me up and down.

I told him the crux of my situation and he began to laugh a bit. It was sort of melodical, and Superman looked wigged out.

"So people want to read my life?" Batman asked, and began to smile. It was then I realized.

"Dick Grayson! You're Batman? Is Damian here?" I began to gush, and Batman kept laughing. He pulled down his mask and… just wow. He's so attractive, it's kind of- kind of distracting.

"You were right, Clark. This kid is going to piss Bruce off so much." Dick said, and I heard that noise again.

"-Tt-" The sound went, and I suddenly remembered that was Robin IV's verbal tic. Where was he, I wondered, until he slipped in the window.

"Batman!" When Robin opened his mouth, out came an annoyed and high voice. He really was a kid. "Is removing your mask wise?"

"He knows your name and mine. Clark said this guy claims to know everyone's name." Dick eyed me. "Mind if I quiz you?"

"No, Connor's been doing that all day."

"Of course." Dick said. "Oracle?"

"Barbara Gordon?" I half asked, half said. I didn't know if she had been Lieutenant Dan'd here and gotten new legs. Was that insensitive? No, what would be insensitive would be taking away the disability from one of the only disabled main characters in modern comics. That joke had been bad, but not as bad as doing that.

"Batgirl?" Dick asked.

"Well, if you're Batman, and Damian is Robin, then Stephanie Brown?"

"Before her?"

"Cassandra Cain?"

"Before her?"

"Barbara Gordon." I replied.

"How did Barbara Gordon become Oracle?"

"I never read that one. She became Oracle after the Joker shot her, though. I think it was part of Suicide Squad? I'm not sure."

"Who are the Robins, in order?"

"You, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damia- nope, oof. Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne. Want to know who the next one will be?"

"What?" Damian was suddenly alert.

"Sorry, that was- I thought a joke might lighten some tension." Duke Thomas is the answer, but who's to say if that future happens, and does it matter now? I decided to play it off.

"Maybe not the right time, Steve." Superman said.

"Sorry." I felt awkward, and I was getting very uncomfortable.

"What is the name of Batman's father?" Dick asked.

"Like his actual dad, or like, his symbolic dad? And the original Batman, or you? If it's you, it's Bruce Wayne and… John Grayson? If it's Bruce Wayne, then it's Alfred Pennyworth and Thomas Wayne."

"Who was my girlfriend in the twelfth grade?" Dick asked, and I blanched.

"Look, I'll be honest with you, Mr. Grayson. You all have been in print since the 1940's. Your personal backstories are changed constantly. You have the intimate knowledge of your lives, it's yours. I'm informed on the big stuff. The stuff so important that it defines you as a character. For instance, Damian's mom, your time in the Teen Titans, and so on. The most interesting objective aspects of your life."

"Well, I was dating an alien, so-" Dick begins.

"Oh, Koriand'r. Starfire." I interrupted, and he looked at me.

"Damn, that's all correct. I guess you're either telling the truth, or you're a good liar and psychic." Dick said, and sat on the bed. "I'm not sure what to do with him, Clark. You said he had powers?"

"It seems so." Clark said.

"What kind?" Dick asked.

"Mimicry. I don't know the factors." Clark said.

"Hm." Dick ruminated on that for a bit. "Parasite reborn, huh?"

"Oh please, no." Clark said. "Rudy is enough as it is."

"That's a power with interesting possibilities." Damian said with a cruel-looking grin. "He could very well be our best option for finally giving the league sick days."

"Damian." Dick chided.

"Look at him, Grayson. He's fat, out of shape, and obviously has no social tact." Damian turned his back on him. "He would make the villains laugh themselves into prison."

"So he's a bigger version of you? Or did you become Mr. Social Butterfly without me knowing?"

"-Tt-" Damian clicked, and jumped through the window.

"Well, Steve, was it?" Dick asked, and I nodded. "What do you want?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Are you an evil mastermind?"

"No." I said. "I'm just a guy. In a weird situation." I said, and Dick turned to Clark.

"Well, we could get J'onn to take a look at him, and if he says this is all on the up and up, we could explore our options." Dick scratched his nose. "I'll loop in Bruce, and we can figure this out."

"What about where he's staying?" Clark asked. "This is already getting too complicated. Kara-" Clark looked at me, hard. "Has some… issues with him staying here."

"Well, that's tough for Kara." Dick said. "You know what Bruce would say here? Something like "if teenage girls were in charge of deciding what happened, I'd take note" or something like that. It doesn't make sense to move him until we have more information." Dick looked me over. "I'm sure our friend here won't be acting untoward the two underage residents here, and will be, in fact, the perfect house-guest."

I quickly buckled underneath the implied threat and agreed. I had no ill intentions to begin with, and regarded the Batman's rules as law.

"Ugh." Superman pinched his brow. "This is a breach of privacy, Steve, but since you're staying, I'm gonna tell you this. Go knock on Supergirl's door and ask to talk to her. Then apologize for what you said the other day."

"What did I say?" I asked. I assumed it was my "real/Kryptonian" comment.

"You remember, I don't have to have powers to read your body language." Dick said. I guiltily nodded, and agreed.

"My wife is pregnant and I'm not going to be here all the time. But my family is very important to me. If I find out you did anything to hurt them-" Superman began.

"I won't!" I said, and put my hands up. "I respect you, sir. I'll apologize for my faux pas and be the perfect house-guest."

"You'd better. Nothing is scarier than a stressed-out Superman." Dick said, and bowed out of the window. "I'd expect some people from the League in the next few days, to run tests."

"Okay." I said, but put my hand up after another moment. "But, wait!" I said, and Dick paused and Superman looked at me. "Then what?"

"What do you mean?" Dick asked.

"So, let's go and assume I'm legit for a minute. I just got here, and now I have weird powers, what do I do?"

The two adults met eyes and then Dick looked to me and shrugged.

"Who knows? We'll get there when we get there."

Last edited: Jul 22, 2019

Chapter Five

Clark and Dick left shortly after our chat. I felt drained, the work of the day and the weight of my new reality seemed to hit me like a ton of bricks. I was alone. People didn't want me where I had ended up, and now I had to repair a situation that seemed irreparable. I knew what had happened, but not what to do about it.

Eventually, I supposed the easiest thing would be to go and just talk to Kara about it. The problem wasn't that I lacked the courage, only that I had no clue what to do. What would happen if I screwed up? Would I be out on my own? The powers I seemed to have were not useful without others, so it seemed Dick was right. I was just being a parasite. The problem of me, in a nutshell. What could I give these people, really? What did I have to offer? An incomplete education in English Literature and a few years of retail experience weren't much good to physical gods.

I decided to just say sorry when I finally got the nerve to leave the room. Try my best to be contrite, and when I walked out, Kara was sitting across from the door.

"Kara!" I exclaimed, surprised.

"Hey." She said. She made no move to get up, so I decided to sit next to her. I scrambled onto the ground with no grace, and leaned up against the wall with an audible thump.

"So-" I began. She put her hand up.

"You…" She began. "Are from Earth. A different one, but Earth. When I got here I learned how much human language was revolving around the sense of species here. Idioms, sayings, all these things that said humanity was all there was. 'Inhuman' 'human kindness', stuff like that. So I get what you meant and where you were coming from."

"Thanks." I said. "I am sorry."

"You said that already. An apology was the first thing out of your mouth when you realized what you had done."

"I feel…" I began. "Just… alone. Right now, I mean. I just realized it. No one here has any obligation to care about me. On Earth, I mean. Even if there's another me here, how do I introduce myself? Howdy all, here's a burden from another world. I realized you and I are kind of similar."

"How so?" She asked. "In that no one cares?"

"Well, that's obviously not true about you." I said. "You have all this extended family who want to be there for you, what I meant was that I'm in a place where I know functionally nothing but secret identities and now I have superpowers."

"I guess when you put it that way…"

"Which is why I wanted to apologize again. Because it isn't fair that I said what I said. Can we have a fresh start?"

"Yeah." She said. "We can."

She stood up and stretched and I averted my eyes. Batman was very clear to not sexualize the aliens.

So I just filed her in my mind as "this is your sibling" and moved on. It may have been weird, but it worked. As soon as she held a hand out to pull me up, and did so with no effort, I was looking at her differently.

She obviously needed a friend, so that would be a great place to start.

"Hey, uh-" I began. "Can you show me how to fly?" I asked. "I haven't really figured out how any of this works."

She regarded me for a minute.

"Is it an Earth custom that you ask something of someone you just re-met?" She asked, smiling.

"I read once that asking someone for a favor can endear yourself to them." I replied. "Begin endearing process alpha."

We laughed for a minute, and it felt like everything was going to be okay right there. That I didn't need to worry about living in the Kent House, that it would all work in my favor.

"Sure." Kara said.

She tied her hair up in a bun and went into my new living area. Then she opened a window and gestured for me to go outside.

I clamored onto the roof, with no grace, and Kara walked out.

"So, here we are." She said. "The outside."

"This is what it's like? I've only seen pictures." I joked.

She laughed at my corny joke and began to hover.

"You did this on accident earlier, so I'm sure you can fly. Try to think of something you enjoy."

"Do I need to be specific? Like, how much enjoyment?"

"Kal told me to think of Kryptonian things." She frowned. "I don't know if they have counterparts here."

"I'm just gonna start with hoagies and work my way up the ladder." I said, and began to think.

After a minute or two, I thought of Italian subs, and a nice mellow pleasant enjoyment yanked me off the ground.

"Come on!" Kara said, and began to fly away.

The control was surprisingly intuitive. It was like moving a limb. You could kind of just will yourself around.

I began to fly up and Kara sped off. I raced to catch up.

Flying was so free. It was like owning a car, sort of. The realization of my own new ability to go wherever I wanted at a moment's notice was so freeing, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders.

You see, it was here, somewhere over Kansas, with Kara and I hooting and laughing, that we became okay, truly. Eventually we were hovering over farmland and Kara was doing lazy loop-de-loops, when I got it in my head that I should to something a bit reckless.

"How high can we go before we need to stop?" I asked.

"I can show you." Kara offered, but I got a stupid notion in my head.

"How about you course correct?" I said, grinned at her, and took off into the night at as fast as I could go. This was a mistake for two reasons. Firstly, because I was at the end of my power shift. That's what I'd end up calling them later after I soul-searched for a term, but I had no idea about the rules.

My powers at this point weren't developed, they had easy rules. Physical touch gives me powers from another powered individual, I get 12 hours. Well, Krypto had touched me at about 6:04 AM.

It was now 6:02 PM, and I was flying to lower Earth orbit.

Kara flew up after me a few seconds later.

"It's beautiful." I said. "No words, should have sent a poet."

"Is that a reference? I think I know that phrase." Kara said, floating next to me.

"Yeah, it's from Contact." I said, and then I fell.

I had been getting colder, even if I didn't want to admit it. That was my first indicator of loss of power, my newfound invulnerability was wearing off.

The second reason it was a mistake was that Kara thought I was joking. We had been goofing around and she thought my fall was part of it. So, it took her a few seconds to take off after me.

As I was falling, I spun through the air, feeling air whip around my body, I didn't scream for a second, it was such a shock. So it seemed like I finished saying 'contact', went quiet, fell faster, and then started screaming.

I reached the ground a lot faster than I thought I would, but luckily, Kara managed to touch my hand as we slammed into Kansas.

We were a tangle of bodies and I was moaning and groaning, and Kara bounced up and pulled me into a bridal carry.

"We need to get you back to the farm!" She said, frenzied.

"Kara," I began, my moaning nowhere near finished. "I think I'm fine."

"Hold on." She said, and crouched as if to take off.

"Kara!" I said, louder. This seemed to snap her back to reality. "I think I'm fine."

"Really?" She asked. "Let me check." Her eyes passed me over and she sighed, relieved. "No broken bones."

"That's good." I said.

"Yeah." She replied.

"Whoa, cuz. You move fast!" Came a voice. It was Conner.

"What?" Kara said.

"Already getting Steve into compromising positions?" He said, pointing to me.

"Please put me down." I said. "I don't get held often at my size, and as of right now, not a huge fan."

"Oh!" Kara said. She put me on my feet. The idea of a 300 lb dude who had a big frame at 6'3" being held by a 17-year-old blonde girl who couldn't have weighed more than 100 lbs must've been pretty funny.

"Wait, was your first idea when I was possibly a victim of a broken something to fly me back to your house at top speed?" I asked.

"N-no…" She said.

"Good. I don't know how well that would go." I said.

"Yeah, it may exacerbate him. He might be into that though, you should ask." Conner joked.

"Conner!" Kara said, annoyed.

"What, just seeing if you'd rise to the bait." He said, but emphasis on the last word.

"I know English better now, stop saying stuff like that!" Kara said.

"I'm confused." I said.

"We went out to dinner in town once, and Kara thought that she'd show off her vocabulary." Connor said.

"Oh my God." Kara said. "I hate this story."

"So she thought masticate was-"

"Oh." I said.

"She told Pa to stop masturbating with his mouth open." Connor said. "Right in the middle of the diner!"

"Connor, why did you follow us?" Kara said.

"It's six, dummy. I didn't want you two to get too far off."

"Dinner!" She said, and took off.

"Now she realizes." Conner said. "You okay?" He asked me.

"Uh, yeah." I said.

"Meet you at the farm." He said, and took off.

"Uh…" I began, but they were both long gone. "Where am I?"

It took me almost twenty minutes to get back, and I realized I never learned how to do that landing the Kryptonians did, and decided to wing it.

Turns out that was a dumb plan.

I flew down and tried to just land on my feet, but my momentum was too fast and I took a long tumble into the side of a tractor.

Getting up I saw the long trail my body left on the ground, and realized I had tumbled a good forty feet.

I quickly ran inside after brushing off the clothes I had borrowed.

"Steve." Came an older voice as I ducked in the screen door.

"Uh, yes?" I said, turning. It was Mr. Kent and the others, they each had their heads lowered except him, and he was staring crossly.

"We like to start dinner at 6:30. Would you join us please?" He said, and I took an open seat next to Kara. She clasped my hand and I took Mrs. Kent's.

Then Mr. Kent went into a full tirade grace, with extra bible. I was freaked out for a second, until Mr. Kent started going off on "lazy universe interlopers and disrespectful aliens", and I began to laugh.

Mr. Kent broke into a grin and everyone else laughed.

"God is good, and so is my wife's cooking, amen." He finished. "You know Batman just sat there?" He said to me.

"Oh please, Pa, not the Batman story again." Connor said.

"What happened?" I asked. Kara leaned over to me and started whispering.

"He likes to play the religious stuff up when people come over, he likes to make them squirm." She said.

"It's funny!" Pa said. "I started my joke and Batman just sat there and listened, and then we ate fried chicken, and at the end of the meal, he pulls antacids out of his utility belt! Says 'fried food doesn't agree with him', can you believe it? Batman himself!"

"-And then you asked him his brand." Connor finished. Pa looked at him faux-angry.

"Let me tell it, I can tell it funnier." He said. "If my Pa had Green Lantern or Wildcat at his table, he'd be able to tell his stories without young people interrupting."

"What's his brand, Mr. Kent?" I asked, and he gave me a warm smile.

"Tums, just like you and me! Isn't that just the darndest thing?"

"He tells this story any time someone in the know comes to dinner." Kara whispered to me, and I nodded.

"It's certainly very humanizing. Was it the original Batman?" I asked.

"Oh goodness, what happened to Batman?" Pa said.

"He disappeared, Pa." Connor said. "We all thought he was dead, remember?"

"Ah yes, now Robin is Batman as well?" Pa said. "Your lives are so confusing."

"Tell me about it." I said, and they all looked at me, and I decided to go for broke. "You miss one month of comics and someone is lost in time, or fighting a long-lost step-cousin or something."

Connor immediately laughed. The others looked a little uncomfortable, except Mrs. Kent, who had a thoughtful look.

"It's interesting to hear it put that way." She said. "Our lives are kind of like a serial when you think about it. Aliens and clones and monsters and bad guys."

"It may be a little too soon to joke about it." I said. "Sorry, I'll try to be a little more sensitive."

"I loved it." Connor said. "It's hilarious that all our stupid problems are other people's entertainment."

"Well," I began. "I could probably just keep the comic book thing to myself."

"Oh that would've been smart." Connor said. "A little late, though. I told Bart."

"That motormouth?" Kara said.

"Good word, sweetie!" Mrs. Kent said. Kara looked very proud of herself.

"Well, son." Mr. Kent said to me. "That cat may be out of the bag."

"Great." I said, disappointed, but happy to be here, and ready to see what would come

Last edited: Jul 12, 2020

Chapter Six

Realistically, I should've known conflict was coming. I was in a comic book world chilling with the Superman Family. I just thought I'd get more of a buffer period between weird and new and super-heroics.

Let me jump back some. I had just finished my first flying session and then my first real dinner at the Kent house. Things were looking up, yadda yadda.

The next month or so was pretty boring. Batman, Dick Grayson, visited me once or twice with The Atom and Doctor Mid-Nite.

You could read that, but it'd be me finding out the rules of my powers, which I already explained, (and honestly, it was quite scientific- The Atom is very thorough) and me giving as detailed a medical history as possible. Enough so I could get on supplements and medications to treat what ails me.

I'd been craving a cigarette for about four weeks now.

That isn't actually that relevant to my story, but it's true. I desperately needed a smoke. No ID means no tobacco products. I landed in the wrong place for my more debauched needs. How does one… release, if you will, when you live with people who can SEE THROUGH WALLS. They taught me how to work that, by the way. I now have a pretty workable knowledge of using Superman's powers.

It's also weird to go to town on myself in Superman's childhood bed. That's been a concern, for sure.

Clark's been around each Sunday. He avoids me, sort of. Not out of malice, but I think I'm still on thin ice, regardless of everyone accepting me in the Kent house.

Kara is cool, Connor is cool. They both split time between here and their respective duties. Kara trains on Themyscira and Connor is a Teen Titan, so they're not always here.

When they aren't, chores go slow. The flaw in my new ability is that I need a "charge" if you will, every 12 hours. If there isn't a source, I'm a regular dude.

It's been nice to get consistent exercise though. Mr. Kent is an interesting man. He's humble, generous, charismatic, just a genuine man with real heart. The thing that draws you in though, is that he doesn't hold his goodness against you. He's just as human as you are.

Mrs. Kent is a sweet woman who cares about everyone. It's nice to see her dote on everyone, she loves her family so much. The fridge is covered in clippings of the various superheroes they foster, and she's always right by her iPad if there's a crisis going on.

It was a month in, when it was clear I was going a bit stir crazy. I hadn't shaved my beard and it was starting to get unkempt. I was only wearing Superman's clothes, and I hadn't brought it up, but I had no underwear still.

"Dude, you and I need to go out on the town." Conner said.

"I can't leave." I said. We had finished our chores for the day and it was early. Around 3 pm.

"Come on man." Connor replied, arms crossed. "You've been here a month and all you've done here on our world is work on a farm."

"With the Kent family." I argued. "Not exactly your run of the mill farm."

"You've been wearing the same overalls for three days. Something is up." Connor said.

I looked at my overalls. They were a bit dirty.

"Pants can be worn a few days in a row." I replied.

"You've been wearing those mucking boots as shoes for so long. Also, if you aren't wearing drawers, you can't re-wear pants. I have super-senses. You're beginning to smell man, I think we need to up your wardrobe." I had been wearing over-sized mucking boots for shoes for a while now. I couldn't exactly go barefoot. Also, the underwear thing hadn't been brought up since the first time it was mentioned, and I didn't want to be an imposition, a full wardrobe was expensive, after all, and they didn't owe me anything.

"I have no money." I said. "Or identification. Or a known last name. It makes it a bit difficult to be on the down low."

"I'm loaded dude. Back in my corporate hero days I made a bunch of investments. What's it for if not to get you clothes and shoes that fit properly? And a haircut. And a shave."

"Is there a place nearby?" I asked. "I guess it couldn't hurt to get out of these shoes. If Batman never finds out, we could make this work."

"I have the perfect solution."

The Oak Top Mall was the largest mall in Kansas. Over eighty stores, two floors, and me in my hick clothes didn't stand out too much because we were in Kansas still. Every fifth person was dressed somewhat like myself.

We quickly made our way to a store full of cheap clothes.

That was when it happened. A big load of gunmen came into the mall and opened fire into the air.

This then continued to happen at every other entrance.

"Oh great." Connor said. He was wearing a hoodie and his glasses. He sped into a changing room. That struck me as odd. All he had to do was remove the glasses and the hoodie. He ran out a moment later as Superboy. "Stay here, Steve."

He flew out to meet the gunmen, and was immediately beset with bullets. I watched on.

It took him about 4 minutes to wrap up the gunmen. He had them bound and set aside for the cops. It was impressive to watch.

He would systematically disarm, then subdue, each one while taking bullets. People had scattered well out of the way, but Superboy still made sure no one was hurt.

Then I saw someone take a hostage. It was out of Superboy's line of sight, and I realized he was busy anyway. Connor had given me his powers so we could come here, and I realized that it was my time. I needed to mix it up with bad guys. A sense of purpose that didn't usually happen to me coursed through my body and drove me to intervene.

I pulled an assortment of clothes of the shelf, random items, and ran to a changing room. It was locked, so I pulled it open with my strength.

There was a sobbing couple inside.

"Beat it. I gotta get changed." I said, and they started blubbering more. I physically pulled them out. I put my clothes down and pulled another changing room open and threw them in there with another crying girl before I went in and put the clothes on.

It was jeans, some underwear (which is odd to wear after not for a while) a shirt, a jacket, and finally, socks and a pair of shoes in my size that the store inexplicably had, I was shocked because I had huge feet. They were converse, but I wasn't looking for comfort or arch support, I suppose.

Before I ran out to get the hostage, I realized I wanted to cover up my identity. I didn't have a civilian life, but still, why not try and keep myself out of the spotlight? I pulled out a red handkerchief from my old clothes I had out in my pocket for sweat and wrapped it around my mouth, sort of like Vigilante.

It was time.

I flew high and out of sight. The gunman had taken a girl through a service exit while I had been changing, so I decided to go to his exit point. I flew through a skylight (sorry about the property damage) and over the roof, skimming the top but not going so fast that I'd lose precise control.

That was a side effect of flying at high speed, no precision. They didn't talk about that in the comics. Superman has a sort of "flash-step" flying technique where he can appear really quickly, but I can't do that, and neither can Kara or Connor.

I flew down in front of the door and the bandana smacked me in the eyes, which disoriented me for a second, and the man burst through the door, saw me, and pointed his gun at me. I peeked through the handkerchief with my x-ray vision a moment too late.

"Shit!" He exclaimed, and popped a few rounds into me. I rushed him and grabbed his gun.

Let me explain how bullets felt as a pseudo-kryptonian hybrid. It was as if someone poked me really hard, but not in a way that hurt. Like if someone tried to shove you with a finger.

I held the man's gun and he threw his hostage at me in desperation. I crushed the gun and dropped it, and grabbed her. It was some high-schooler. I pushed her behind me and grabbed the man by the collar.

He pulled out a knife and tried to stab me.

"Really?" I was surprised. He had just shot me. I tried to think of something Superman would say. "These aren't toys, young man."

"Fuuuckkk you!" He said. The knife broke off on my body and I couldn't help but grin.

"Very eloquent. Did you go to an Ivy League institution?" I replied.

"Look, don't hurt me! I was just told to cause a ruckus!" The thug said. "I just wanted to leave before he gets here!"

"Who?" I asked. Then an explosion wrang out, and I scanned the mall. There was a huge man with red and yellow skin. Connor hadn't noticed yet.

"Oh shit." I said. "You're here to make a ruckus for Major Force? Why?"

"I don't know. I was just paid by someone!" The mook replied. I decided to deal with this afterwards, so I put him on the roof, and then reaffixed the bandana when I was back on the ground. This time, I put it over my eyes and hair, like a psuedo Iron Fist or Daredevil. I can see through it after all, seems smarter in hindsight to wear it like this.

"Thank you." I hear, and turn. It's the hostage. She's just some kid. She couldn't have seen my face, but I'm wary anyway. I already have three potential witnesses to my identity, and I'm not trying to be known, even if it would be pretty impossible to identify someone with no real identity.

"All in a day's work, Miss. You get somewhere safe, now."

"I sure will, mister." She said, and I turn around and fly back inside. 'I sure will, mister', Kansas, amiright?

The matter at hand is Major Force, and I'm really struggling to understand why he's here. It seems like the mooks were hired to create a scenario, and for some reason, Major Force was going to show up. But why? He's a bad guy, is he the mastermind? From everything I know of him, he's just some murdering rapist who got duped into becoming a more powerful Captain Atom, and then decided to off Green Lantern girlfriends.

As I flew back, I saw him enter the scenario, and Superboy finally noticing him. I heard him ask what Force is doing there, and Force chuckling. Then I arrived on the scene.

"Superboy!" I cried, as I landed next to him. "That's Major Force!"

"Uh, thanks." Connor said. "What are you doing?"

"One of them took a hostage." I said. "I took care of him."

"You killed him?" Connor asked, shocked.

"Uh, no. He's on the roof." I replied. "What makes you think I killed him?"

"I love that there seems to be a superhero on every corner nowadays, but this is my show." Major Force said across the plaza from us. "I think I'm going to need you two to leave."

"I asked you what you were doing here, Force." Connor replied.

"I'm here to save the day." Force said. His cocky grin made him look like the horse from Berserk. You know the one. "It seems that Superboy and… The Heart Kid were here to do my job for me, though. I have it from here, kiddos."

"The Heart Kid?" I asked.

"Dude, your shirt." Connor says. He hasn't taken his eyes of Force this whole time. I look down at my shirt, and it has a big red heart on it. It looks like Connor's shirt, a little. It's black with a red heart right where the shield is on his shirt.

"My superhero name isn't 'The Heart Kid', that's lame." I said. "Call me…" I pause here, and think about it for a minute. "Contact. I'm Contact."

"Whatever. Fuck off. This is my collar." Force said

"Contact." Connor said. "This guy is a heavy hitter."

"Well Superboy, are we fucking off?" I asked.

"It doesn't seem to be an option." Superboy grits his teeth, and I do too. I don't want to have a glass jaw.

"Well. I didn't want it to come to this, but it seems like you two wish to pursue some violence." His voice is gritty, like sandpaper, a cheerful growl that seems designed to taunt. "I will oblige."

Chapter Seven

Have you ever been punched through a wall? It's certainly an interesting experience.

When we decided to face down Major Force, I was unsure of my abilities. This was a man who had powers equal to a Superman-level hero, after all, and we were two super boys (albeit, as tough as two young men could realistically be expected to be.) The problem was that he had other ancillary powers linked with his abilities. He immediately started to pepper us with hand blasts, dark energy poured through and punched chunks out of the stucco architecture. We flew to cover.

"You got a plan Superboy?" I asked between peppers of blasts.

"Did you have a plan, 'Contact' when you put on that 'costume'?" Connor asked. I shrug at him. "Listen, he's tough, so you go low, I go high. We need to prioritize civilian safety, he's known for extreme damage to the surrounding area."

"Got it." I said, and we went to work. Me in my roughshod costume with a few bullet holes, and him in pristine condition. He indeed flew at the criminal, who hadn't lost his grin, and I flew after him. Connor hit him, hard. There was a little bit of a shockwave, and I slammed into his waist, putting the Major off balance.

Connor would later say that I was remarkably easy to work with. He went in on the Major with everything he had. Kryptonian strength with augmented tactile telekinesis is nothing to sneeze at, after all, but I focused on immobilization. I held onto Major Force with all I had, as he tried to regain the power in the fight.

Let me say something about holding someone off balance. It's like when I played football as a teenager. I was awful at it, and I didn't know how I could keep pushing at the experienced guys with all I had and not move them an inch.

As soon as Connor stopped punching him as hard as he could, the barrage of fists ended, because of course the barrage would have to end, and Major Force finally had a second to breathe, and he put all of his focus into kneeing me. The knee slammed into my center, right in the chub, and I flew up with the wind knocked out of me. Force grabbed me and held me by the shirt collar.

"You're a fat one, aren't you? You know what they do with fat people in boot camp?" Force asked, and then punched me in the stomach, hard. Then he did it again, and again, and again. Connor made a grab for me, but Force blasted him away, he had let us into his zone before, but now he knew what we could do.

My lunch and a bit of blood flew from my mouth into Force's face, and he began to splutter.

"That got into my mouth, you fucker. Now I'm really gonna kill you." That was when he punched me in the face, and I flew up through the balcony and through a wall.

Now, I have some memories of my time getting beat up, it wasn't a long period of life, but that was when I got to use my temper, and I always had a kind of fondness for the days of simplistic schoolyard rules. Someone punches you, you punch back. Things get complicated later in life, social hierarchies and rules and blah blah blah, it bores me to just talk about it. I could feel my own anger welling up in me, knocking itself out of it's dormancy. I wanted to fight. I wanted to win.

"Are you okay?" A voice asked. I looked over. It was a young man. Couldn't have been older than 16.

"Stay down and out of sight." I said. "This is a Superhero's job. I'll take the punches so you stay safe." I launched forward, and corkscrewed down through the air to where Connor was.

Connor was taking hits like a champ. He would duck and weave and give as good as he got. Force was tough, but he was only tough. He had better fighting skills and size, but he wasn't a martial artist, and Connor's own skills were enough to match his, hand-to-hand. Then he turned his hand into a spike, and I knew I had to do something.

I flew as fast as I could into his legs. He had been so focused on Connor that I bet he forgot about me. I slammed into them, and kept flying, as so to be out of reach of his spike hand.

He was thrown to the ground, and I couldn't resist taunting.

"What do they call that in boot camp, douchebag?" I shouted.

"A cheap shot." Force grumbled, before Connor slammed a column that I had jarred loose when I got hit into the side of his head and he was thrown across the room into a pile of rubble.

I flew down to Connor.

"Superboy, first plan went okay, what's the second?"

"How are you still standing? That hit was massive." He asked me.

"I always feel better after throwing up. The kids call it 'rallying'." I said, and he chuckled.

"Little different." He replied, jovially.

The rubble moved.

"Plan now." I said, a bit frantic.

"I can take him if you keep him off-kilter. Try not to get hit anymore." He said.

"Sounds easy. How does a man made of energy get beaten?"

"That's the hard part. I dunno." Connor said. "Damn, I wish we had support."

"Don't you have some sort of communicator?" I asked.

"No one could get here in time." He said. "We're on our own."

"Welp, let's do this, then." I said. I grabbed the column off the ground and flew up. I went over to the pile and slammed the column down on it, length-wise, a few times. I got to my fourth hit before Force emerged.

"I guess the kid gloves come off then." He said. "You two are really trying to fight! Good for you."

"Eat shit, dude." I said, and hit him with the column, which finally broke. It didn't even move him.

"Nah." He said, and blasted me without moving his hands. I took a big hit in the shoulder and flew through the ceiling, spinning.

As I flew, I felt all the pain my brain had shut out. It was excruciating. I slammed into the roof of the building and laid there for a minute. My anger was still there, but I hurt all over, particularly in my stomach and shoulder, and struggled up.

When I was a kid, all I ever wanted was to be a superhero. I wanted to help out Spider-Man and Superman, I wanted that. I imagined having powers so much that I would get in trouble for it in school.

I would spend hours and hours thinking what would happen if I were a comic character, and now it's happening and I'm blowing it. I was nervous when I got here, and now I feel so RIGHT.

"This is my moment." I said to myself. "This is exactly what I always wanted. I wanted to be a superhero. I wanted to be the one who could help. I want this!" I shakily stood up. "Now I gotta earn it. I gotta get in there."

It hurt to breathe, and it hurt to stand, but I felt myself get angry and shut it all out. I ran to the whole and jumped down. I saw the scene, Connor was getting swatted away by Force. I flew down and squared up to Force, who grinned.

"Round 3?" He asked, mockingly.

I slammed my fist into his jaw. Then another to the stomach, then an uppercut. He took them all. Then I started to speed up. Rapid punches, everywhere I could. Super speed was a Kryptonian power, and I wasn't worried about hurting him. He put his arms up, but he wasn't as fast as I could be. I punched and punched.

"Good try." Force said through gritted teeth.

I knew to grit my teeth, that was a plus, but he blasted me across the room again. Connor was pushing himself to his feet next to me.

I did the same. I was more wobbly than he was.

"Dude." Connor began. "Where's your endurance?"

"Dude." I said. "Where's your heat vision?"

"Solid retort." He said. "Do I have heat vision in your comics?"

"Eventually. You go through… oh." I slapped my forehead. "That's a whole bag of worms. You go through something traumatic. We'll go into it more later."

"Ooookay." He said. He flew forward and I did too. Eventually, this plan will work.

"You two don't quite get it." Force said as we approached. I punched, Connor punched or kneed, and Major Force either took the hit or dodged, either way we weren't making any progress.

"I'm immortal, made out of Dark Matter and space metal." Force continued, and grabbed me. "I'm immortal." He taunted as he threw me into Connor. We flew into a lingerie store.

"Hey, Superboy." I groaned.

"What?" He asked.

"Imagine being in here when all this shit goes down. Talk about being caught with your pants down." I joked, and he chuckled lamely.

"Panties down." He corrected, and it was my turn to lamely chuckle.

"Hey, Superboy and Heart Kid!" Force shouted.

"Contact!" I shouted back. We got to our feet.

"How about this?" Force said, and held up one of the various tied up goons. "You leave or I snap his neck," he pointed to another goon, "and then his neck, and then I'll play it further by ear."

"Well, this is bad." Connor said.

I was pissed. This was some sort of plot, and I knew it. I tried to stare down Force with all my might. Not showing an inch of fear, even though I felt it. Then I shot him in the chest with my heat vision.

When I was learning how to use Kryptonian abilities, Kara told me that in his angriest moments, Superman's eyes would glow out of no will of his own. That heat vision was about your anger, and using it.

Now, as I wasn't expecting to be able to use it, I hadn't tried to, and now, as I thought about it, Connor would be able to. He had the genetic capability. I wasn't worried too much about the logistics of it in the moment, because as soon as it happened, Force dropped his unharmed hostage and looked at his chest. Then behind him. There were two dark holes in the plaster behind him.

"You ruptured his suit. With heat vision!" Connor said. "Those are my powers!"

I knew what was going to happen. I had seen it on Justice League Unlimited. He was going to explode.

Major Force was still looking at the holes. Connor's mouth was wide open.

I decided what to do immediately.

I clocked Connor in the jaw, full strength, and he tumbled to the ground. Then I drew in a deep breath. I expelled the cold right at Major Force. His body froze up to his head, and I grabbed at the mass of ice and took off through the hole Force had made punching me through the ceiling.

"Quite the look, kid." Force said from his block as we flew up and up. "You busted right through that bandana. I can see quite a bit of your face now."

"Won't help you." I said, tersely.

"No, and it might not matter now, you obviously know what's going on. This is classic sacrifice play. I admire the balls, to be honest. But…" I could see his face, it was in a savage smile. "I'll remember you. I'll be back soon, and if you survive this, know I'll even the score."

"Why don't you just blow up alrea-"

Then it went black.

Chapter Eight

I don't remember if I dreamed or not. If there was a dream, it was one so ordinary that I had no reason to remember it.

I woke up slowly. My eyes weren't ready to open, and I hurt all over. I managed a weak moan.

"Did he just-?" Someone said.

"Step aside. Stephen, do you hear me?" Another voice said.

"Stephen, this is Batman." A deep voice said, and I didn't recognize it. "No civilian casualties."

I held a thumb up and passed out from the effort.

Flashes follow. Every so often I hear "can you hear me?" Or "is he all right?" In this haze, I figure out what happened to me. I survived a nuclear blast. I'm in bad condition, though.

Eventually, after so many different moments of fading in and out, I get enough of it together to open my eyes, and I'm nearly blinded.

I feel fantastic. I have no idea how, it seems like I should be more hurt. No one is around, either. Maybe this is like 28 Days Later, and I just woke up in the apocalypse. Then a door opens and a tray clatters to the ground, and I look to see who it is.

"Kara?" I asked, surprised to see her. She's in full uniform and looks like she hasn't slept. "Where am I?"

She covered her eyes.

"You're naked." She said flatly. I look down and-

"Holy shit, I'm shredded! I have an 8-pack! Kara, what happened?" I asked. "Also, where are my pants? I just stole some pants that fit- well, I guess they wouldn't anymore, because I have a shredded washboard abs situation going on."

"There's a set of clothes on the table next to the bed." She said, behind her hand. "They needed you nude for it to work. There was a screen for your modesty, but you seem to have ignored it."

Sure enough, there was a privacy screen around where I had woken up. Next to it were clothes on a smaller raised platform. Ah underwear, my old friend.

"Make what work?" I asked as I pulled on a set of boxer-briefs and some scrubs. "I'm clad."

"The solar chamber." She said, lowering her hand. "We needed it to heal you."

"Whoa, so it's still my power shift? What a turnaround! Twelve hours after a nuke blows me up and I'm hot and alive? Cowabunga!"

"Cowabunga?" She asked. She looked like she was about to say something else, but my exclamation side-tracked her.

"If I'm a Chad god, I gotta start saying Chad god things. Is cowabunga cool?" I'm flexing as I talk. I have huge biceps!

"How would I know?" She asked me, and I nodded.

"Solid point, Kare-Bear." I said. "So, did I save the day? I heard someone mention that no one died."

"You almost did." She said, in a hushed voice.

"Stephen!" Someone said.

"Yeah?" I responded, and Kara looked at me funny. Doctor Mid-Nite walked into the room.

"Stephen, you're awake!" He said. "Thank God."

"Course I am. I was packing Superboy heat."

It seemed like the room got chillier.

"Stephen, are you exhibiting abilities?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm in a solar chamber, right? It's still my shift, right?" I asked. Supergirl and Doctor Mid-Nite looked at each other.

"There's no easy way to say this. It's been three months." Mid-Nite said. I immediately was alert.

"Three months?" I was shocked. "I've been here for four months and in a coma for three?" I guess I can cross "be in a dramatic coma" off of my "I'm in the DC Universe Bucket List".

"Yes, and a lot has happened. It turned out that the whole plot at the Oakhill Mall was orchestrated to-"

"Give Major Force a PR boost, right?" I finished for them, and they look shocked. "I knew that."

"You did?" They ask, and I shrug.

"Some hired gun told me. I guess I never conveyed that to Superboy."

Kara sits down. Mid-Nite sighs. There are a few chairs in the corner of the room, away from the dais I was sleeping on. Or rather, in a coma on.

"So what happened after that?" I asked.

"Well, after Batman figured that out, we followed the money to an offshore account." Doctor Mid-Nite said. "It turned out that there was a massive plot within remnants of the Luthor administration to discredit the League for getting a president out of office."

Kara spoke next. "After that, we were cornered by the team they put together to replace us. It was a bunch of bad guys and hired guns, meant to simulate the Justice League. You foiled a lot of their plans, Major Force going off was a huge reminder that he's essentially a walking bomb that the US uses." Kara said. "They jumped ahead in their plot, assembled their crew, and tried to take us down. But when they fought us, we beat them."

"Us?" I asked, and she smiled wanly.

"Lois had her baby so I was filling in. Wonder Woman recommended it."

"Ah! Mazel tov!" I said, and she smiled.

"Little Jonathan Kent. He's a real cutie."

"So, what happened to me?" I asked.

"Major Force had a nuclear meltdown when you shot through him. Your quick response saved over a thousand lives, and countless more by getting him as high as you did." Mid-Nite said.

"Excellent. I'm ecstatic about that." I said.

"There's also this." Kara said. She walked over and handed me her phone. It was a YouTube video. I pressed play. It was that kid asking me if I was okay.

"Stay down and out of sight. This is a Superhero's job. I'll take the punches so you stay safe."

"This is me." I said. "Who took this?"

"Look at the views." Kara said. I took the video out of fullscreen and saw the title. "Oakhill Hero Speech" 402 Million views.

"Whaaaaaaaaaaat." I said. I looked at the comments.

He said his name is Contact

Fuck yeah! This dude belongs on the JLA!

Ur mom gay

The positive support was insane.

"We found you a few miles away. You had landed in a living room. Poor family thought you were some corpse from the explosion. We brought you here, you were covered in burns, bones all broken, clinging to life.

We took you to the Watchtower, that's where we are now, and began to bandage you and set your bones. I believe you were conscious briefly then. After a while it became apparent that we needed to wait until your shift ran out until you could be healed. Human medicine for those with Kryptonian physiology is shoddy at best. We noticed your skin was getting harder after the twelve hours mark and began to run some tests. It turns out you, in situations of danger, adapt your body to the last powers you had. You now are at least 5% Kryptonian."

Like the Saiyans? I have a zenkai boost but with powers? 5%?

"Which five?" I asked, blown away.

"Well, it's mainly manifesting in some abilities. We've observed some minor durability and strength-"

In my head I was chanting 'flight' over and over.

"-and you heal under yellow sun rays. Slowly."

"Hence three months." Kara said.

"Huh. That's a lot to take in." I said.

"Kara's been quite the help in monitoring you." Mid-Nite said. "She barely left your side."

"Wow, Kara. That's really good of you." I said. "Thanks!"

"N-no problem." She said. "I thought someone needed to keep an eye on you."

"What a good friend." I said. "You're so nice to do that."

"Yeah, I'm a great… friend." She said. Weird pause there, but whatever.

"So what else happened when I was out?" I asked. "Besides the whole conclusion of The Major Force plot-" I was about to say plotline, but stopped myself. I was a literature student, so I tended to use words in relation to literature in real-life, and this world was the context and time to get out of that habit. Too close to home.

"Steve, we've mainly been dealing with that. You don't seem to understand. Thanks to a small group of people in the government, a nuke almost went off in Kansas." Kara said.

"So?" I asked. "Wasn't it my fault that he blew up? I shot him, after all."

"We'll need to discuss this all later. It's been a wild three months, and I think Batman wants to talk to you."

"Oh! Really?" I was excited. This had been a good day. I was a superhero, I was the subject of a viral video not about getting pantsed on-stage (a personal fear of mine, I thought it was bound to happen eventually), and I had developed washboard abs without having to maintain the harsh diet and exercise I had been doing before my arrival to lose weight. I needed to get on a scale!

"Follow us." Kara said, and I did. Outside of the Solar Chamber, I saw a window and almost shat myself.

"We're in space!" I exclaimed, running to a window. "This is The Watchtower!"

"Yes, it's all very impressive." Mid-Nite said, bemused.

"Tell me the truth, you two. Have you ever brought a date up here to wow them?" I joked, as I looked at our planet, from the friggin' moon.

"I don't date much." Kara said. "Too many good friends." She had a weird look on her face when she said that.

"There's actually a League bylaw that prohibits bringing spouses or civilians up to the Watchtower." Mid-Nite said. "I'm not married, but I didn't get to take anyone up here before that rule went into effect. Besides, I prefer the JSA Mansion."

"The JSA?" I began to gush. "I love the JSA. Can I take a tour? Or join you?" Kara looked annoyed at that, too. I thought we were cool, what am I doing to make her annoyed at me?

"Well, let's get you cleared for any damage from the nuclear explosion you took, and we'll figure all that out, Steve." Mid-Nite smiled, and gestured onward. I complied and walked through the vaunted halls of the Watchtower.

There are rooms all along the corridors. Each has a name and a logo. Firestorm, Booster Gold, Martian Manhunter, Fire, Ice, I wondered where we were aloud.

"Well, we just left the infirmary in the first annex, these are personal quarters, if you accept entry into the League, you get a room on the Watchtower." Mid-Nite said as we continued on. "Mine is around here somewhere. I've usually got other business to tend to between visits to this place, so I don't manage to stay very often."

After we finished walking down the halls, we arrive in the main building, the tower itself. It's huge, like, skyscraper huge.

"How is this not visible from the planet?" I asked. "I've never noticed a huge tower when I gazed up at the stars."

"The moon is about the relative size of the entirety of the United States, Steve. It's really big. This looks big from here, but from Earth, we're a speck." Kara said, and I felt dumb.

"Oh. Well, my ignorance was showing there." I said.

"It's a lot to take in." Mid-Nite said. "No one's judging you here."

"We're all friends here, Steve." Kara said.

"Indeed." I said. I was getting a little uncomfortable around Kara. I don't really like it when I use 'indeed' around people I like. It's my brain's response to "this is making me uncomfortable and I need an ambiguous reply", and I thought I was above all that with Kara.

We had actually gotten really close during our time in Kansas. I skipped over the month, because it was boring, but I became super tight with the Kent kids. They were dope people, they had interesting views on television and music, and they were open to teaching me about their walk of life, which I found to be mightily interesting. How many alien refugees and clones did you get to meet, really?

They didn't know many people who were sort of average, so I fulfilled that interest. Imagine how good your life is, if you get used to the mundane nature of being a superhero.

As I was wondering about what I did to make her upset, we entered into a large set of doors, and I was treated to the sight of Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, and… not Green Lantern, Cyborg, or the Flash. Instead there were two women I assumed to be Mera, Aquaman's wife, and Zatanna and a man, who I assumed to be Mister Terrific. There were three open seats, and as we entered, Batman gestured to them.

"This is a meeting of the Justice League Executive Council." Batman said. "We're here to discuss the problem of the metahuman known as Contact."

Chapter Nine

"Problem is a bit much, Bruce." Mera said, looking me over. "You should rephrase that."

"Codenames, please." Came the gruff reply.

"Problem is exactly the word." Mister Terrific said. "No offense to him, but he has introduced a lot of issues in the last few months."

"Uh, excuse me." I said. They all looked to me. "I just woke up. What's going on?"

"We know you just woke up, son." Superman speaks up. "That's why we're here. We need to discuss exactly what happened in Oakhill, and what has happened since then. This is partly a review hearing and us trying to figure out what to do with you."

"What to do with me?" I asked, confused. "Like, are you all gonna kill me, or-"

"No, don't be foolish." Wonder Woman said, with an easy smile. "We wouldn't have bothered waking you up if we were going to kill you."

"That's… huh. I guess that makes sense."

"Should we roll call?" Mid-Nite asked. "I don't think Contact has been introduced to everyone here."

"Oh, don't worry." Kara said. "He knows everyone here."

"Not necessarily." I protested. "But in this case, I'm pretty sure I know who everyone is."

"Doctor Mid-Nite is correct." Batman said, pulling up a clipboard. He hands it to Martian Manhunter.

"Batman, League Advocate?"

"Here."

"Superman, Executive Officer?"

"Here."

"Wonder Woman, UN Advocate?

"Here."

"Martian Manhunter, Extraterrestrial Advocate, I'm here. Doctor Mid-Nite, Chief Medical Officer?"

"Here."

"Mister Terrific, Technology Officer?"

"Here."

"Mera, Atlantean Advocate?"

"Here."

"Zatanna, Magical Officer?"

"Here."

As everyone was who I suspected them of being, Batman nodded.

"This meeting of the Justice League Executive Council is officially begun. Let the minutes show that Supergirl is here as the witness to character, Superboy was requested but couldn't attend. I have his sworn affidavit from the Oakhill first responders in lieu of his own testimony." Batman said. He nodded to me. "I would like to be the first to speak. Without training, without any known combat experience, and without first notifying the League, three months ago, Superboy and Contact engaged the known supervillain Major Force in combat at the Oakhill Mall in Oakhill, Kansas. In the fray, Contact, whose powers were copied from Superboy's, used an unknown, in this case meaning unknown to Contact, ability that ruptured the containment suit of Major Force. According to Superboy's testimony, he had not exhibited the Kryptonian ability of heat vision, which was why it was a surprise to all involved when Contact could use the ability. After this, Contact purposefully knocked out Superboy, and according to other eyewitness testimony, froze the body of Major Force, likely buying a few seconds, and flew up into the thermosphere, where the damage from the rupture explosion was easily cleared by League resources, namely Captain Atom and Firestorm, in the following hours."

"That's basically how I remember it happening. I mean, to me it JUST happened, and that checks out." I said, quietly.

"In the following months, the effects of this event have been widely felt in the Superhero community. After the Luthor Remnant within the government tried to blame Contact and cover up the presence of Major Force, the events of the day were leaked by various citizens of Oakhill who recorded the events, and some who could offer personal accounts of being rescued by Contact, namely Janine Trevolie and Franklin Hass, organized a counterintelligence public movement to get the truth out."

"Whaaat." I said. Batman hit a button on a remote, and the faces of the two kids I saved appeared.

"The after-effects of the #truthaboutoakhill campaign, as well as a belief in the fallibility of the Luthor-influenced government were enough to severely limit the power of those who wanted to frame the Justice League as an unnecessary body of law-enforcement. They then decided to publicly attack the League, leading to the events of Hartford, Connecticut, three weeks ago. The "American League of Justice" attacked the team after successful arrest of the Royal Flush Gang."

Batman took a moment and looked at the table.

"Since the events of Hartford, President Ross has stepped down, replaced by Speaker Horne. President Horne has met with League Representatives several times over the last week, and we're now within an unknown territory here. The activities of the United States government have been called into question. We need to seem united in our support of the Horne administrations new transparency initiatives, as well as in our global neutrality."

"Uh, while I agree with what you're saying, how does this affect me?" I asked. "Isn't this about me?" Batman was quiet for a moment, seemingly figuring out what to say.

"An unknown entity with powers appeared near the childhood home of our greatest defender. Shrouded in mistrust and without any sort of real assistance from us, you decided to make a sacrifice beyond what was called for. You, quite possibly, have become the definitive symbol for what we tried to do in the genesis of the Justice League. In the actions of that day three months ago, you saved countless lives and exposed a deep government conspiracy that was sure to leave quite a few bodies in its wake, and you did so without any greater motivation we can see other than it was the right thing to do."

"Good job, Steve." Superman said, warmly smiling.

"I didn't do anything special." I said. "I was the one who caused the problem."

"No you are not." Wonder Woman said. "You went, according to Superboy, to get yourself a change of clothes. Why you didn't have clothes is not known to me." She glared at Superman, who slouched in his chair a bit. "A group of gunmen being there was not your fault. Major Force being there was not your doing, and you using an ability that was not presumed to be within your capabilities was not your fault either. In the heat of the moment, your first instinct was to take a blast beyond what you or anyone could be expected to survive."

"If you put it like that, it sounds like it was a big deal, but don't you all do that sort of thing all the time?" I asked, and they looked around at each other.

"I do not believe any of us have tried. " Manhunter said. There was a chorus of agreement.

"So what are you going to do with me?" I asked.

"This review hearing takes place whenever there's a potentially global threat that gets resolved by someone in our influence. You, as an interdimensional traveler who was living in the Kent house, obviously apply." Wonder Woman said. "Keep in mind, even though it was not said, that we are all impressed by you."

"What?" I'm getting uncomfortable now. I don't get respect in my regular life, much. I do things worthy of respect and am given props as a result, but I like to goof around and joke, and that usually means people don't have a huge amount of respect for whatever you do. It's just the hazard of joking, as I've seen it. Now I'm getting props from Wonder Woman and the Justice League. "I guess I understand. I'm just having trouble wrapping my head around all this."

"Clark- sorry, Superman, has moved back into his room at the house." Supergirl said to me. "That's where Lois and Baby Jon are staying. So there's a need for someone to kind of…"

"Take me?" I asked.

"Essentially. You aren't unwelcome but there isn't much space nowadays." Kara said.

"It's my fault. Kara and Connor offered to share rooms but-" Superman began.

"No, no. I get it." I said. "Not really a huge fan of sharing living space."

"I've arranged for you to get an identity." Batman said. He slid me an envelope across the large table. I opened it and there was a folder of documents, an ID and a passport.

"Stephen Kent." I said aloud. I smiled.

"We figured we'd make it official." Kara said. "You appeared out of nowhere and became a superhero, so you were basically a Kent anyways."

"I'm truly honored." I said. "You guys are the best."

"Contact. I know several of us would like to speak to you in private. We have accrued quite a bit of options in regards to your new living situation." Batman said. "Many of us are prepared to offer you some sort of living situation in the future, but for now we'd like it if you'd stay on the Watchtower until we're certain of your new abilities and any potential medical issues you may have."

"Of course, medical away. I don't have insurance though." I joked.

"You do, actually. I'd like to discuss that with you at a later time." Batman said. "Does anyone have anything else to add?"

"I'd like to see what I can find in regards to his emergence, magically." Zatanna said.

"As would I. Especially since his circumstances are so convenient." Mister Terrific said. "No offense, but I need to find a smoking gun that says he is what he says he is."

"Anyone else?" Batman looked around the room. No one spoke up. "Superman?"

"Thus concludes this meeting of the Executive Council. Let's show Contact to his room." Superman said, smiling.

That wasn't a goof, I had a room atop The Watchtower. It had Contact stenciled with a heart next to it. I guess the heart was my symbol. I walked with Doctor Mid-Nite, Batman, and the Kryptonians.

Batman showed me inside. He closed the door behind himself.

"I wanted to speak to you privately. You've claimed to be aware of some sort of narrative about my life?" Batman said.

"I… yes, you're very popular where I come from." I replied.

"Are you well versed in my son?" He asked, and I was taken aback. I thought he'd ask about his parents.

"Damian?"

"Yes." Batman said, halting between his speech. "I wanted to…" His face betrayed nothing. "Are there others?"

"Other children?" I asked.

"Yes." Batman said.

"It's possible. It depends on if Talia sees Damian as away from the fold under yours and Dick's influence. She may attempt it again." I said. "There's a story where she kills Damian for being inferior. Is she like that here?"

"I don't know." Batman said.

"You seem uncomfortable. I apologize, my knowledge is a bit hard to wrap your head around, but you need to be sure, Bruce. Damian's life depends on it. He comes back, but I don't know how." When I finished saying it, Bruce's demeanor changed.

"Thank you. I have, like many others in the League, come up with an action plan for your future in our reality. We've agreed to wait until you're cleared to propose them, but I think you should consider what I'll propose seriously." He offered me a hand, and I shook it firmly. "You're a hero, and despite your lack of training, you did exactly what I would have done in your situation. You saved those people."

"Thank you, sir." I replied, and with a curt nod, Batman departed the room.

Superman was waiting outside. He put a hand on Batman's shoulder, nodded to him, and smiled. He must've heard, and wanted to assure him.

He stepped in.

"I wanted to apologize." Superman said. "You were a nuisance to me back when Lois was pregnant, but so far you've been a great addition to the family."

"Thank you, Superman." I said.

"Please, call me Clark. I also wanted to extend Pa and Ma's good wishes and a standing invitation to the weekly dinner. You may not end up living back at the Kent house, but you'll always be welcome."

"That means a lot." I said. It really did. I had never thought of myself as so good at social interaction to ingratiate myself this easily, but apparently I had found my version of the Kents to Kara, in the Kents. I always was good at entering a situation on the right foot, if it started well, it would end well, and however brief, I had spent a lot of time with the Kents, and they had been amazingly welcoming. They really were special. I guess being caught off-guard and unprepared was the right foot to enter in on.

Superman nodded, and left the room, and I was a bit off-put by his lack of a handshake before realizing he was probably trying to avoid giving me his powers. I probably needed to stay powerless for a while today. Kara walked in after Clark exited.

"Mid-Nite is getting antsy waiting for you." She said. "I just wanted to say…"

"Are we okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm just… look. I don't actually have a lot of friends. I have my friends in Themiscyra, and the Kents, but they don't quite get me like you do, and when you were gone, I realized that I-"

"You what?" I was a bit scared.

"I really care about you." She said. "I wanted to-"

"What sort of care?" I asked.

"I dunno." She said, and I felt bad. I was in no position to do anything like have a relationship. I wasn't even sure what that meant to her. Don't Kryptonians have like, pod babies?

"Look, let's just go ahead and assume they're platonic, because that makes a lot of sense, and say you missed me very terribly. We're friends, so it doesn't have to be more or less than that until we both decide how we're feeling, okay?" I said, and Kara looked thoughtful.

"Sure, Steve." She said. Then she went in for a hug but I backed up.

"No powers until I get my medical stuff done, okay? I owe you a hug, and we should grab a bite and catch up in the near future." I said, and she nodded. I didn't have to have superpowers to know she was disappointed, but I didn't want to get attached. I'd say a full year of life here would be necessary before I get too into anyone.

After Kara left, I turned to my (probably ill-advised) room window and I took it all in. A lot had happened and now I was here on the Watchtower. Now I was getting ready for my big move. Wait till the world got a load of me.

"Steve, are you ready for these tests?" Mid-Nite asked, and I nodded.

"More than ready, Doc." I said, and we left for the medical wing.

(END PART 1)

Last edited: Nov 4, 2019

Chapter Ten (Discovery)

I always choose to hear bad news first. My life before all of this was pretty average. I lived in a rural Maine town after having lived in a metropolitan city for a few years. I was finishing a degree, so realistically, the worst news I could get would be from situations I was fully aware of. Oh no, I failed that test, well I should have studied.

However, whenever there's the rarity of a day where a good thing and a bad thing happen, I think it's more sensible to be cheered up with good news than to be brought down by bad news.

People tend to have an agenda when they ask you to make that choice, by the way. It rarely seems to matter, but I always choose bad. Then they'll tell you in whatever order they wanted to anyway, so that's why I'm going to tell you the bad news first.

Turns out, I only get a couple of zenkai power boosts. My first instinct was to abuse it like Vegeta did on Namek, get close to dead and then profit, but that's when I found out that I was on my way to turning into a formless chimera of cells if I did so.

So, I'm about 5% Kryptonian, right? Well, if I go more than 50% anything but human, I may start dying horribly. If I get a power boost from something that changes my brain chemistry, dead, the list goes on.

Theoretically, very cool. In practice, I get maybe three or four brushes with death before I have to start keeping a major eye on it. Less if I die with alien powers. If I keep a consistent Kryptonian zenkai, then I might just get to be a Kryptonian. That would be cool, but I could just as easily die.

My powers are really weird. It seems like I should tell you about the weird thing that happened to me, that made me find out what they actually end up doing, but in the meantime, it was determined that without understanding and control, I shouldn't be around heroes.

Hence, my move away from the Watchtower. After I was cleared physically, I was sent to STAR Labs Gotham.

I was taken initially to Wayne Tower, given a room and told I would be there for two days while the staff of the lab got prepared for their experiments. What that meant was that I couldn't exactly leave the building, or my quarters within the building, but I was okay with that.

Dude, being rich is totally worth the loss of soul, I get billionaires now. The shower had seven individual heads that each stuck out of different angles and while I had experienced that once before, let me say that these all had consistent water pressure when I had them all on. God bless the rich, in regards to showers. I must have bathed thirteen times over those two days.

I was also given in-depth explanations about my new identity. Apparently, my existence was the basis for a new type of government form. Legal Status granted due to appearance from another reality.

Stephen Kent, born in Portland, Maine (Alternate Earth), on my birthday which I provided. Same age, same sex, same location. No parents listed but I had this classification of needing some sort of supervision, called a "transit observer", with the name of Bruce Wayne… 's attorney on the form. I was told it was just so Bruce Wayne wouldn't have to put a personal number on a government form. Rich people, amiright? I was also given a driver's license, which I feel like I shouldn't keep because I hadn't passed the test officially in the real world, or… well, whatever. This place felt pretty real, regardless of my knowledge that his was all likely the fever dream of a dying me. I feel like if this were a fantasy, I would've met Powergirl once or twice.

Fingers crossed on that one.

I was also given provisional League status, because technically due to my technical alienness, I'm a ward (in the sense that they're responsible for my actions while I'm here) of the League. It's basically more responsibility for them, but apparently there's a small salary for League members through the Wayne Foundation. I didn't qualify for it, but I got my own little bat-credit card to use for purchases. For now, anyway.

The catch was that I had to be a good guy. No problems there, I didn't even do evil playthroughs in video games. When NPCs called you evil, it really got to me. Who wants to walk around a virtual world where people fucking despise you? Not me, and if this planet WAS just a sandbox for an addled, dying mind. I would want the good guy ending.

I was also given some amenities for my time on this planet, including a smartphone. Inside were the numbers for all the Kents, Bruce Wayne, and an emergency League hotline. I wasn't told that I needed to pay for it, but whatever, if I need to get a job here, I can fly sometimes. Maybe like, a stuntman or something? That would be cool. I'm in shape now, it could work. Or an action movie star "Stephen Kent in BIG HOT JUSTICE".

The importance of the phone was unbelievable. I could now research how my world differed from theirs. Turns out Donald Trump does indeed host Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? with the same vigor that made him famous on The Apprentice. It's actually pretty watchable with the lack of political baggage. Using the phone made not only cultural reference points easier to sort out, but also made comic book story world reference points easier too. The wikipedia article for when Superman was believed to be dead is really grim to read.

There was no Blackest Night here, that's kind of horrifying to have that possibility on the horizon. This timeline is weird. McCarthyism and a weird time thing ended the JSA in '51. The team just straight up disappeared, and all their kids got together in the late seventies and managed to bring them back. So, if I had to put it into terms of comics, imagine it's been like there have been solo books since WWII, but no real team books until the seventies, and even then, when the JSA was back, they were trying to rebuild their lives, and mostly all stepped down. That was forty years ago. Jay Garrick, a public hero in retirement, is around seventy, and he still manages to put on his costume, which, you know, more power to him. Alan Scott looks like he's in his late forties, tops. There's some irony. Recently, the grandkids and a bunch of oddball legacies reformed the JSA, so that could be cool to check out, if they'll have a dude with no real abilities besides being marginally okay at fighting like Superman. Oh, I should tack on to that. "No real abilities besides being marginally okay at fighting like Superman, sometimes."

All else I've found, it's a bit staggering. It's too much to say now, but when they come up, I'll bring them up.

I was pretty much glued to my phone and television, and even though I really didn't enjoy farm work, I did miss it. I was considering going back to the Kent Farm for dinner if I could. The rest of my time in Wayne Tower was used to get me a full wardrobe, some necessities for hygiene, luggage, everything I needed to live out of a suitcase, because as I was assured, that would be the case for a few weeks.

All my clothes looked like different variations on the heart thing I had accidentally picked up. I would have bet Connor had helped with the selection, and so I had heart print button downs, t-shirts, socks, underwear, if it could be heart-print, he seemed to find it Luckily I still had regular pants, shoes, a suit, and a nice luggage set now. The heart as a symbol was kind of a mixed bag, but I decided to lean hard into it. Hearts were cool, I determined, and adopted the symbol for myself. Contact, too. It was an okay name to be stuck with, and I could always change it. There were worse things than Contact or hearts. I could have been dubbed Erectile-Dysfunction Man, or Goo Dude.

There was a part of me that semi-wished I had ended up as The Goo Dude, if I was being honest, but still.

There were also three all-black sturdy jumpsuit-uniform things, also with a big heart on them. This time though, only one, on the middle of my chest. A gift from Batman, presumably. I guessed they were for future heroics. They had a big zipper down the chest that basically disappeared when done up, and they breathed really well, so during my testing at STAR, I just wore them, mostly. They had waist pockets, and as an unexpected plus they also had feet and were machine washable. I had to wear shoes still, but nothing is perfect the first try.

I didn't have a long tenure at Wayne Tower, it was time for the second part of my medical analysis. Deep probing!

The first few days of my residence in STAR Labs were all scheduled baseline tests. I would try and absorb as much culture as I could while doing what the scientists told me to. The lead was Dr. Harris, an older white woman with a big floof of hair, who would always digest information by hmm-ing and then writing on a clipboard.

Initially, we just confirmed my new crazy endurance and ability to be active for long periods of time. I suffered so much damage that my body was basically rebuilt by my kryptonian-zenkai. That means all of my many damages, my shitty knee, et cetera.

So, all of my problems washed away in my long coma. People keep giving me kudos, but imagine waking up after you did something stupid you thought you wouldn't survive, and then you wake up all chiseled and given public adoration. You may be thinking to yourself "well, that sounds like it would solve a lot of my problems" or "that bat-credit card thing sounds excellent", but it's all at the cost of, you know, my family and friends and all the meager successes I had cultivated on the Earth I came from.

I'm still processing that, just to tell you.

Also, not to sound ungrateful, but it turned out new muscles were really just peak human physical condition. That's still pretty strong, but nowhere tough enough to go toe-to-toe with anyone big here. I had a boost of endurance though.

Enough so, that when Dr. Harris asked the League for someone to test me against, they did so.

"You want me to punch him?" Kara asked. I was limbering up in one of my uniforms across the room. I was wearing some stylish (or as stylish as they get, they happen to make shoes in my size) New Balance shoes, and they were squeaking up a storm.

"Yes, Supergirl. Not too hard, but enough to see if he had gained your species's trademark physical durability." Harris said through a speaker. They were watching behind a mirror.

"Come on Supergal, you scared?" I joked in a mockingly macho voice. "I'm big and tuff now." I did a jokey flex, and bulged against my clothes, which I was quite pleased with. "I'm like Arnold now, isn't this crazy?"

She looked at me for a minute and smiled. "10 percent, I'm gonna give you 10."

"Please, is that-" Then she rushed over in a burst of speed and hit me right in my new sculpted tummy.

As I lay on the ground, writhing in agony, they had her hit something to gauge her strength used on me.

"Well Steve, I'd say you could take at least a shotgun blast." Dr. Harris said, happily writing on her clipboard.

"Lucky you." Kara said.

I threw up on the floor.

They didn't let Kara stay long. She waved after and left as I was rinsing my mouth and cradling my abdomen. A huge bruise had appeared already.

"Get some sun on that, tough guy." Kara said as she left.

"You get some sun." I said under my breath, defiant.

"I will!" She called and then flew off.

"Is she gone?" I asked a lab assistant.

"Yes." He said, and I collapsed to the ground.

"Oh my God I am in so much fucking pain right now." I said. "That was 10%?"

"I have no reason to disbelieve her." Dr. Harris said. Then she looked me up and down, hmmed and wrote on her clipboard.

So I was tough, but not any real sort of strong, and I knew it. I could do things I never could before, but I had to be told many times not to use weights they keep for testing super-strength. I just wanted to see if I could do it, but they said it was a no-go.

Being in perfect physical health is pretty odd, honestly. I keep doing things that I knew were impossible.

Like, before this, for instance. I never ran outside of a gym, not for anything, really, but now it's almost effortless. It's like walking fast, because it doesn't kick in as physical exertion for a good bit. They had me in a pool and told me to swim until my arms gave out, and I swam laps of freestyle for almost an hour at an easy pace before I could feel my body quit out on me.

They told me I was a "stamina machine" and that I should "try not to wear out my girlfriend", and I chuckled uncomfortably and moved on from that conversation.

It was interesting. I'd spend all day getting tested and doing menial labor I was told to do, and then I'd have night times in a small cramped living space in their labs to fall asleep and browse the world on my new mobile phone.

It was very soothing, I'll admit. There's something soothing about a routine, and I settle into them well if I have time to sit and rest and do nothing, and the tasks weren't complicated or too physically challenging anyway. I got used to settling down with a tired malaise at the end of the day on my small cot.

I feel like I'm forgetting- oh yeah, the weird thing. I said I'd talk about that, didn't I? Well, let me tell that story.

One of the doctors on the team approached me one night, if I remember correctly, his name was Dr. French, and he asked me if I had tested my abilities. I said I had, that I knew the rules of it, and explained my time with The Atom.

"Did you copy The Atom's powers?" French asked.

"No, why?" I replied.

"Well, it seems like you copy abilities, sure, but you've only really ever copied one of the Super Family, right? If I know my heroes, Atom uses his belt, right? I was wondering if you could copy that." French said, and I blanched.

"I… guess I didn't think about that." I said. "What about Green Lantern?"

"Now you're thinking what I'm thinking." French said. "If it's okay, can I talk to Dr. Stone for you? His son is-"

"Cyborg?!" I exclaimed.

"Uh, yeah." French said, scratching his head. "How'd you know that?"

"Oh, uh. Internet?" I said, likely unconvincing. Batman advised me before I entered STAR to keep the comic thing to myself if someone asked. For French, it might come as more of a "life-shattering change to the status quo" as opposed to the minor trivia it had been seen as by-and-large from the hero community. It would be trivia if you were the main characters, but the common population was not.

"Well, let's get Cyborg in here and see if you can copy him." French asked.

"Uh, okay!" I gushed, excited.

"No, I don't say 'booyah' too often, why?" Cyborg asked. Dr. Silas Stone had indeed been intrigued by our little idea, and the resources we had at this instance were very convenient. Stone wasn't the researcher in charge of the research of me, so Dr. Harris and Dr. French were there, the three doctors were comparing notes and hypotheses while I spoke to Cyborg.

"No real reason, just…" I sighed, a little disappointed. "I was curious."

"You're the guy who fought Major Force with Superboy, right?" Cyborg asked. "You looked different in the video on YouTube."

"I was fatter then." I supplied, hopefully dropping it there. I wasn't wildly keen on giving up the tricks I had learned about myself, at least not to everyone. You never know who might be a secret sleeper agent or traitor, after all. Batman had actually agreed with me on that.

He's been dropping by every so often, it's cool. He's really informed about everything, and he seems more patient than I was expecting. He hasn't stopped me from asking questions or consulting him on everything that I've been experiencing.

It's kind of cool, asking Batman about my next moves and his detective work. He still holds out, asking me to keep an open mind about where I should go next.

"So what exactly do you want to do?" Cyborg asked. "Copy my powers?"

"Do you have powers?" I asked, curious of his opinion.

"I don't think so. It's just parts with some me mixed in." Cyborg said. "But what's the condition for your power to work?"

"Skin-to-skin contact." Harris said. I waggled my fingers.

"Sure." Cyborg shrugged.

I greedily accepted his permission, and touched his exposed face. The rush immediately came on, but then sunk away into the background.

"Did anything happen?" French asked. The trio had vacated behind a wall of protective ballistic glass.

"It felt like it did, but I'm not sure?" I said. I held out my hand, and imagined turning it into an arm cannon. Then it happened.

The suit and my hand were covered with cracks, and in a moment, my skin began to rearrange, flipping and swapping around until I had a cannon on my arm.

"Whoa." Cyborg said.

"That felt so weird!" I said, and waggled around my arm cannon. "This feels so weird!"

"Try shooting it!" Called French.

"I don't want to!" I said. "I don't get this at all!"

"Hmm." Cyborg walked over and put a hand on my shoulder. "Fascinating. My sensors are telling me you and I are composed of the same parts. You're about ninety percent machine."

"Dude, it feels like all my skin is crawling all over. Then I feel pinches and hot spikes. This is getting freaky." I said.

"Try and bring up an interface." Cyborg said, and I nodded. I imagined Adam Jensen's glasses from Deus Ex, and suddenly a pair of shades emerged from my eyes.

"Whoa." I said, as it all began to click into place. As soon as I could monitor things, I got a handle on it, and began to blast. The scientists had set up targets, and I could aim in real-time with a reticle over my eyes. It told me when to fire, so I could do a bunch of weird show-off trick shots and still ace it. "This is less weird now!" I shouted.

"Well." French said. "That makes no physical sense."

"Agreed." Stone and Harris said.

Chapter Eleven

Eventually, my low intensity time at STAR Labs was bound to end, and it ended with a big revelation the week before I was scheduled to be done. That no one really gets how my powers work.

See, initially, because I was using Kryptonian abilities, I was believed to be a biological mimic, but that wouldn't account for my abilities mimicking Cyborg's physiology. I only learned my physical limits, really, and the rules I was already aware of. The shifts, the zenkai, and when I stumped them by mimicking Cyborg, they began to just throw away all of their data, because it became abundantly clear that a person couldn't mimic machine parts.

Or become mainly machine for 12-hours.

By the way, as soon as I got into it, it was a really eye-opening experience. I like being human, or whatever I am now, but being a machine was a very fun experience with an asterisk. I could understand why Cyborg hates it, because I got to turn it off by getting tired and falling asleep after fucking around for a few hours.

It was like doing a psychedelic, almost, because it was wild and crazy and then later on I could reflect on it with a new point-of-view. There are benefits to being mainly machine, but it's not something I'd be interested in long term.

So, my powers borked their stats, and now I was even more of a mystery. They knew my powers copied powered heroes. That was it, for now.

They made me promise to come in once a month, and I agreed. Even though it was cool I got Cyborg's gear, it had implications. The zenkai was one, do I just keep some metal parts? That would be cool, but worrying.

Arrangements in place, I shook the hand of each of the scientists, briskly nodded at Cyborg who had returned to see me off, and entered the large Rolls-Royce that had been sent for me. Luggage was all packed, research was fucked, it was an interesting last couple days

I had decided to wear my suit, not the superhero one, but rather the dapper suit. A nice pair of bespoke shoes and a dinner jacket and I'd look like a scruffy young man wearing a Kingsman cosplay. You know, instead of a scruffy young man wearing a James Bond cosplay.

My beard was thicker from the zenkai, which is awesome, but still pretty scraggly, and my hair was really long- signs I hadn't shaved or gotten a haircut in the time I was here, or… wait, didn't all my hair burn off? I was nuked, do I just grow hair super well now? I should have noticed this sooner.

So as I stepped out of the car I looked akin to a dressy Pretty Woman or Trading Places homeless man or Jesus than any of the dapper-types. Or Mark-Paul Gosselaar in the first season of the TNT drama Raising the Bar. Then they made him get a sensible haircut for season two.

It was long, is what I'm saying. I looked out of place in the corporate office environs of Wayne Tower. Trust me to turn two sentences into two paragraphs.

I was greeted by another man dressed sharply. "Mr. Kent?" He asked. I almost looked for Superman, but STAR had accustomed me to the name.

"That's me." I said. I assumed he was an assistant.

"Could you come with me please? The sharp-looking assistant asked. "Mr. Wayne would like to see you in his private residence."

"Okay, sure." I said, and the assistant handed me a tablet. I looked at it and it was a bunch of legal jargon. "What's this?"

"Standard NDA." The assistant said. "Batman Incorporated is still in the process of forming, and we're trying to keep its operations under wraps for now. I believe Mr. Wayne was scheduled to speak to you about it."

"Huh. You're well-informed." I replied.

"That's my job, sir." The assistant flashed a wide and white set of teeth in a smile that lit up his face.

"Well, is there any chance to see Mr. Wayne without signing this?" I asked.

"It's possible, but not probable, I'm afraid. Please, be assured that BI is all above-board. That's why I joined the company." He said.

"Really? Big Batman fan?" I asked, while I wrote with a stylus on the bottom of the form. I had tried to juke my memory by signing my full name a while back, but it didn't work. A sloppy 'Stephen Kent' was at the bottom with today's date.

"My sister and mother were in Gotham during the No Man's Land order. After the earthquake, I mean. The Batman helped save them from Victor Zsasz. I'm honored to support him and his allies." The assistant said. I searched him top-to-bottom for a name tag, and he smiled wider. "I'd be interested, if you wanted to grab a coffee or something, you know, in the future."

"I may take you up on that offer, Mr…."

"Dwayne. Dwayne Ruthless." I stopped for a moment and looked at him.

"Ruthless, really?" I asked. I got Kent and this dude got Ruthless? He smiles again.

"I'm glad you like it." He said.

"I didn't say-" I began, but whatever. New friends! I need 'em. Also, before you say anything, I know he's flirting. That's the problem with crushes out of nowhere, they come out of nowhere. I'm at least semi-observant. Flirting is easy to recognize. Lotta smiles, lotta laughs at jokes that weren't THAT funny. It isn't rocket surgery. "It's a cool last name, Dwayne."

"I agree." Another flash of that smile. "Mr. Wayne is waiting."

The elevator ride was long. I was sufficiently flustered, and Dwayne kept a small grin. This stuff isn't mysterious to me when it comes to attraction. I understand that, of course. It's just execution. It's messy and risky and I certainly know myself enough to know that small distractions can lead to large distractions and so on.

That's my excuse anyway, it's reasonable enough to say things like that when you don't want to admit you're just afraid that people won't like what they see when you let them in. Congrats, the man you thought was eccentric and funny is neurotic and insecure. What a nice investment of time you've made on me, a disappointment.

That being said, it could go the other way, I just told you about the insecurities.

The elevator opened and I walked out behind Dwayne. There was a large atrium, and inside was Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, and Dick Grayson. They were dressed in various levels of niceness, and seated around an expensive-looking, very large table.

"Stephen, welcome. We were just about to eat." Bruce said. Bruce Wayne is an attractive man. If Dick Grayson is Justin Timberlake style hot, then Bruce is like, Bradley Cooper style hot. Rough hot. His eyes smolder at you from behind a tortured visage. That's not my wording either, Vogue did an issue on him I found while I was doing my social research on these people.

"Will that be all, Mr. Wayne?" Dwayne asked from my side.

"No, Dwayne, join us." Bruce said. "At least for a moment. I have something I'd like you to keep an eye on."

"Uhhhhh." I said, looking pointedly from Bruce to kind of raising an eyebrow at Dwayne and making a heart with my fingers on my chest.

Bruce laughed. That was odd to hear, I was used to the grim staccato of The Dark Knight. I want to flesh out how well I know Bruce Wayne actually. It was another month after the four months from arrival, and I got here in- have I been vague about the months and times? Sorry. It's not something I keep good track of.

I got here mid-April. Apparently, corn grows at that time. April 12th, 2019, Steve's First Inter-Reality Transit. It's now October 20th.

"Mr. Ruthless here is the new Logistical Head of Batman Incorporated." Bruce said. "He's in the know."

"Ah." I replied and sat down at the table. Dwayne sat beside me. This guy is either very forward, or very enthused.

"So, we're here to discuss your future." Damian said. He was dressed up in a tiny suit, sitting with his arms crossed. "I see you lost the weight."

"Not just his, Damian." Bruce said. "I'd also like to discuss your future."

"What?!" Damian challenged, standing up.

"Damian." Dick said. He was in a polo and slacks. "Take it from a ten to a three."

"Fine." He said, and sat down. "I don't see why he and the fop are here though."

"Damian!" Dick looked at him, his eyebrows narrowed in judgement.

"Fine. The fool and the dandy, then."

Dick only had to look at him, and he shut his mouth and looked away.

"Neat trick. How does one make him stop making fun of me?" I asked. "Blowing myself up didn't work."

"Please, I would've-" Damian began, but Bruce cleared his throat.

"Let's chat. I have an opportunity, and I'd like to propose it." He looked over to me. "Here's the sales pitch. In an hour or so, I'm going to take you to see the rest of the League members who want to host you. I'd like you to turn them down."

"Okay." I said. "Why?"

"You have an incredible gift, Stephen. You also have a keen mind. I've noticed it." I decided to not mention how I didn't notice my hair made no sense to me, that would put a damper on his good speech.

"You're capable of using available knowledge to come up with solutions on the fly. That's already the first thing I teach my proteges. I want to train you to be a better hero, someone who can stand alongside the League in a real way."

"You really think I can do it?" I asked.

"I don't."

"Zip it, Damian." Dick said lazily.

"-tt-"

"I don't know." Bruce said. "You've chosen a difficult path, but you seem disposed to it. I'd wager that with enough time with us, you'd be formidable."

"Who's us?" I asked, and Dick and Dwayne raised hands. Damian looked confused, but he didn't say anything.

"Let me cut to the chase, if you don't mind. I need to travel for the next few months around the world to get my new enterprise running." Bruce said. "I'd like to take someone with me."

"So…" I began, avoiding looking down at the place the kid was sitting. I was sure that would steam him. Am I really this riled up by an eight-year-old? Whatever his age is, he's a prick.

"You told me something a month ago that stuck with me. Do you remember?" Bruce asked, steepling his fingers.

"On the Watchtower? Sure." I replied.

"Having a son is an unexpected development in my life. Returning from death and finding him following in my footsteps is another unexpected development. I want a relationship with my son, and I want to follow up on what you warned me about. I'd like to take Damian with me to set up the infrastructure to get Batman, Inc. running.

"That's smart." I said, thinking for a minute. "You can make sure what I said doesn't happen and set up a counter to the League of Shadows."

"The what?" Dick asked.

"Oh uh, the League of Assassins. They're called the League of Shadows a lot in my world because assassins are too hardcore for television or something?" I shrugged. "It doesn't matter, really."

"Excuse me, HIS world?" Dwayne asked. Hoh boy, whoops. That cat's out of the bag.

"Stephen is from another reality." Bruce said. "I've been meaning to tell you. That aside, for now." He adds as Dwayne gives him a look. "You're exactly right. The League stands for global peace, which is inherently at odds with many, many people. I don't know Damian too well, and I'd like to, son." He looked meaningfully to the boy, and I felt for the duo. It must be hard to be a vigilante billionaire and his cloned son. Or not, I mean that sounded pretty epic if I was being honest.

Bathos, undercutting serious moments in my mind with humor since I was a kid.

"So what's the plan for me?" I asked.

"Well, since Dick is still Batman in Gotham, and I'm taking Robin, and Alfred is accompanying us, we're using the city to build up a new force for good."

"The Gotham Knights." Someone says, and I turn to look. A smaller, thinner young man walks in. He's very casually dressed. "A new citywide initiative to reduce crime among young people."

"Also, the name for Tim's new project." Dick said. "Stephen Kent, Tim Drake. I'm sure both of you have done your homework on the other."

"Homework?" I asked, confused.

"You've read up on me." Tim said. "That's what I've heard, anyway."

"Tim has been working on a pet project since I… left." Bruce said. "While I work on mine, he wants to test his. He's set up a new base in Crime Alley."

"The HQ for the Knights. The New Cave is here, the Belfry, is in the old theater. A battery of bases for us to battle against crime."

"So let me get this straight. You are leaving, taking your son and butler, and want me to work with people who don't know me, don't have any reason to trust me, and this whole time I'll also be undergoing brutal physical and mental training?" I asked. "I see some holes in this plan, if I'm being honest."

"It's not perfect. The fact of the matter is that while I'd like to take time to train you myself, it's not feasible. Tim and Dick are more than capable, and the team they're putting together is top-notch."

"Who?" I asked.

"Dick is going to be Batman, overseeing everything. Oracle will be doing all of that stuff better, and I've got a few people in mind. It's an experiment." Tim said. "I thought you'd be an interesting fit."

"Well, I guess I'll think about it." I said. "I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear, but-"

"Not at all. This is work, hard work, plain and simple. I'm not offering you an interesting time, I'm offering you a chance to be better." Bruce said. "Damian, please consider this. I know you enjoy working with Dick, but-"

"I'll think about it." Damian said.

"Let's get ready to depart to the Watchtower, then." He nods to me. Immediately, he changes. His back becomes a bit more hunched, and his eyes grow sharper. His voice is in the staccato again. "Tim, and Dick are on active watch. Dwayne, I need to discuss something with you.

I sit as everyone departs besides me and Damian.

"Aren't you going to don the heart?" Damian asked.

"I wore my suit today and I don't know where they took my bags. I don't feel like I should change." I replied.

"Not trying to put on airs for the League?" Damian snarked. "I'm sure they appreciate it."

"Have I done something to offend you?" I asked. "I don't know what, but please, edify me."

"What, you mean let a bomb go off or something?" Damian said.

"Yeah, I screwed it all up. I'm sorry? What am I supposed to do? Apologize for winning against a guy who would use your cape as floss?" I said, annoyed.

"Apologize for being a sloppy moron? What would be the point?" Damian said. He seemed smug. I guess if you snap at a pre-teen, you've lost the argument.

"Look, here's a chance to say what I've been thinking for years about you, to your face." I said. "You are better than 98% of people who you meet. You're the heir to two dynasties, you've worked hard, you've done more in eight or whatever years than I'll likely do in my entire life. You have this ability to be a pinnacle of a person, but you follow the inspiration of your grandfather rather than your father. Why exactly is that?"

"You don't know anything about my grandfather." Damian said.

"Yes I do." I said. "Ra's Al Ghul. The Head of the Demon, I know about him, his daughters, what they do, who he is. I've read a lot about him. He's a monster obsessed with the big picture." I said. "He's deeply flawed in his asserted ideology. He thinks he's better than everyone else because he found a magic hole in the ground."

"He used immortality to build an empire." Damian stood now.

"Even that's slightly worse than some people. Vandal Savage, he's an immortal crime-lord too, but at least he's honest about it. He says he wants to rule the world, instead of hiding behind some greater meaning."

"You're a moron." Damian said. He got into an aggressive stance. "I'll-"

"Yes, beat me up. I'm not as strong as you, and I'm saying something you disagree with. Prove you're exactly like him." I said. "You could wipe the floor with me, and your first instinct is to do so, rather than to guide someone in a worse position than you to a better one. That's your problem, you're certain you know everything. I assure you, that isn't the case. You're just a kid, you know nothing about reality, not really, and you think you do. You probably were more sheltered than I was, and you don't think that's possible. Maybe you should consider it. People would probably like you a lot more."

"I don't need people to like me." Damian said, defiance thoroughly exuding in his every action.

"Really? It doesn't break your heart a little to have people reject you? It's hard to build relationships, but it's easy to reject them, and you seem desperate to alienate others, but I know you, maybe not as well as you know yourself, but you're already ahead of the curve. You have the opportunity to become a cornerstone of the heroic community, and yet you don't seem able to step up. You're proving yourself to be the son of Batman, but in the wrong ways."

He looked confused.

"Superman proved one thing, that if you have amazing power, you should be an example. You must believe that, deep down. You wouldn't have stayed Robin otherwise." I stopped for a moment. I thought deeply, and arrived at my conclusion. "There's always something better than misery out there, that's what you fight for. Why not at least try and understand something completely before you write it off?"

Good Will Hunting-esque rant to this child over, I worried I may have personally just attacked Robin, but Damian seemed to be lost in thought. I was about to take it all back when Batman stepped out. In broad daylight.

"Uh, should you-" I began, but he put a hand up.

"Shielded windows. No one sees in unless I say so." Batman was fully in-character at this point. "There's a zeta beam transfer in the next room. Let's go."

"Okay."

Last edited: Apr 8, 2020

Chapter Twelve

Batman clacked away on a keyboard in the corner of the room we were in. There was a console on one end of the high-ceiling room, it had several monitors all hooked into a large platform on the other side of the room. The platform was a metallic disk with large scaffolding that began to slowly rotate as Batman finished typing. The other side of the room was covered wall to wall with computer equipment.

"What's with all the computer towers?" I asked.

"Zeta Beam teleportation is highly random. If you begin without a destination, you end up anywhere in the galaxy." Batman said. "When Adam Strange did so, he ended up on Rann. We use two points of transference to eliminate the possibility of another random beam-up, and these computers are used to solve complex mathematical equations that allow for fixed-point transfer."

"Beam-up?" I asked. "Not very scientific."

"Given your background, I assumed a reference would be necessary." He walked over to the pad. "Imagine me as O'Brien."

"Ah, does that make me Bashir?" I joked, and Batman smiled.

"You wish. We have 2 minutes to transport." He said. There was a tiny pause. "Please don't lecture my son again."

I felt sheepish. That's a lie. I felt ashamed to the core of my essence.

"Sorry, sir." I said, eyes to the ground.

"I'm not against his betterment, keep that in mind. I just worry that having someone who barely knows him personally commenting on his major issues may aggravate them." Batman said. "He's had a difficult upbringing, and he's now opening up to those around him for the first time. I don't think having a stranger tell him things that may be true, but overall quite harsh, would solve those issues."

"I'm sorry." I said again.

"Do you intend to stay?" Batman asked.

"Here?" I asked. "Like in Gotham?"

"On this Earth." Batman corrected. "If we manage to find out what brought you here, do you want to go back?"

I shrugged.

"If you don't, I'd recommend you train. You could be a member of the Justice League, if you tried."

"You can't possibly mean that." I said. "I'm the worst."

"Are you?" Batman said.

"Why is everyone so nice to me?" I asked. "I don't deserve it."

"You should seek counseling for your insecurity." Batman said. "Since my return, I've realized the benefits of speaking about my issues to a professional. I have his card if you're interested."

"How the fuck did that happen?" I asked.

"Language." Batman said. "I died. You'd be surprised how it changes you."

"I suppose so." I said. "You've seemed more open to things than I know you to be."

"My whole life, I was willing to die to save just one person." He said. "I can see it in you, as well. Despite our difference in upbringing, we arrived at the same conclusion. That all lives are more worthy to continue on than our own. It's a noble calling, but now I see what I'd leave behind, the life I've built for those who would miss me, those who depend on me."

"How'd you notice that?" I asked. "We've spent some time together, but-"

"You talk about yourself constantly." Batman said. "I assume it's because you feel the need to explain your actions."

That caught me off guard. I guess he had been paying attention when I was rambling to him back at STAR.

"Well-"

"There's also the Major Force incident." Batman said. "Regardless of what you may think, that wasn't a cheap action. You've proven yourself able to make difficult decisions, and to be able to save lives. You had zero training and saved thousands."

"I-"

"Stick with me, Contact-" Batman is smiling again. It doesn't seem weird to me, but I'm sure people used to him would be weirded out. "I'll make it millions."

We teleported then. The humming in my ears was loud, but not deafening, as we made it to the Watchtower.

"Contact, codenames from here out." Batman said, descending off of the larger pad we had appeared on.

"You got it, Bats." I said. "What am I walking into here?"

"You're very popular." He said. "Like I said, it wasn't anything cheap you did that day. Your experiment with Cyborg has spread as well."

"He told people?" I asked. I leaned against a nearby wall and put my head in my hands. "This is too much pressure."

"Maybe for now." Batman said. "You'll get used to it."

He may have been right, but I was still trying to shake off the critical blow he had dealt me by confronting me about Damian. I briefly wondered how my rant had affected the kid.

MEANWHILE…

"That fat moron has no idea what he's talking about!" Damian said, throwing another knife into the priceless portrait the Penguin had commissioned of himself. It currently hung on a wall in the Bat-Bunker.

"Sure he didn't." Dick said, lazily balancing himself on one finger across the room. "He's just a huge fan of yours from another universe who has extensive personal information on all of us. Maybe you should ask him if your little crush on Batgirl pans out."

"I don't- Grayson!" Damian angrily looked at his partner. "ARGGGGH!" He screamed, full of pubescent rage.

BACK ON THE WATCHTOWER

"So before we do this." I said, gesturing to the meeting room we were loitering in front of; I was coming down off of my pressure episode. "Who's Dwayne Ruthless?"

"Oracle recruited him when I asked her to double her ranks. He's a relative unknown in our world, but he's quite formidable in hers." Batman said.

"Ah, so you trust him?" I asked.

"Oracle has said she does. I trust her." Batman said. "He's very capable."

"I doubt that means you trust him fully." I said. "Is her 'world' different than ours? It doesn't seem that way."

"I thought so too, but apparently I was misinformed." Batman said. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be, I suppose." I said, and he opened the doors.

Inside were a lot of League members. Wonder Woman, Mister Terrific, Mera, and Zatanna were each there. I recognized them. The others were a bit surprising.

"That's him? He looks cut!" A red-headed man in a Green Lantern costume said. Guy Gardener.

"He must have hit the gym." Another man in a GL uniform, it was definitely Kyle Rayner.

"Isn't he as strong as Superman?" Hal Jordan, too?

"He's a mimic." John Stewart.

Every Green Lantern had shown up. Talk about feeling special.

"They all have an axe to grind with Major Force, kid, you impressed them." A man in a gas mask walked up to me. "I'm here for the JSA. Call me Sandman."

"It's an honor, sir." I said, and he put a hand up.

"Sir makes me feel old. Friends call me Sandy." Sandman said. "Doc Mid-Nite said you were interested in the JSA. Him and I are both dual members of the League and the JSA."

"Please, Sandman. Let's start the meeting." Batman said. "We're all eager to offer Contact a place."

"Dude!" Superboy walks up and gives me a hug. I'm conscious to avoid touching him skin-to-skin as I embrace my long-absent friend.

"Man, you got me." I said, and hit him on the arm. "Are you responsible for all the heart stuff?"

Superboy smiles and puts his hand to his mouth as if to yell out. "Guilty!" He shouts into the air. "You like it?"

"It's growing on me." I said, and he clasped my shoulder.

"I'm here to represent the Titans. We want you, bud." He said.

"Jesus, it's like I'm LeBron James." I joked, and Connor raised an eyebrow. "You know, The Decision? Oh, uh… he's a basketball player-"

"I'm just screwing with you, LeBron exists here." Superboy said. "He's a Laker."

I thought for a second. "Do y'all have Steph Curry?"

"Yeah, he plays for the CHAMPIONSHIP-" He looked over to the Lanterns. "Metropolis Generals."

"Whatever." Hal Jordan looks away.

"I took him for a few Gs during the championship, he's just bitter." Superboy said. I sort of began to pick up on a difference between Connor on the farm and Superboy. Connor was a bit of a jerk when he had to square up with other heroes like this.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah, it was great, remind me to tell you how I took Booster Gold for three-thou, that story is classic."

"When was that?" I asked.

"Oh back during another thing and the thing. You look great dude, I hear you're part me now? We gotta catch up."

"Superboy." Batman glared, and Superboy walked back hands up.

"I get it, the meeting." He winked at me. "Later, hit me up."

There were others, too. Hawkman, Hawkgirl, Green Arrow, Black Canary, there were a dozen or so assorted heroes, some I didn't recognize at first.

"So, calling this League meeting to order, we have three items on the docket, but I think we should start with the most pressing. Budgetary-" Someone in civvies began.

"Barry!" Hal Jordan shouted. "The kid!"

"Fine." The blonde man must've been Barry Allen. "Trust that I get the chairman job during this. Now people decide to show up."

"Everyone will be at the Halloween party!" Someone heckled from the back.

"Yeah, maybe Barry will wear his costume!" Someone else joked.

"Ha ha." Barry Allen said. "Hold on." He zipped off.

"Codenames." Batman said. A few mumbled sorties floated out of the crowd.

Flash reappeared in full regalia.

"So, we're here for Contact." Flash said. "He's the hot item this year."

"Sure is!" A woman shouted. I looked over, and saw Mister Miracle and Big Barda. She had been the one who shouted and he was shaking his head, amused. New Gods, I wonder what would happen if I touched them? Ugh, that sounded weird, even in my head.

"Let's begin with proposals. I guess I'll start." Flash said. I was surprised, I had never expected him to do anything. "If you need a place to stay, we've got room."

"Was that it?" Hal shouted.

"I'm sure that won't be the worst offer he gets, GL." Barry narrowed his eyes at Jordan. "Who's next?"

"I've already proposed my plan." Batman said. "Is anyone else here to offer a place for Contact to live?"

"Aren't we all?" Mister Miracle asked. "I know that's why Barda and I are here."

"I'm offering a training program to him. I think skills for his future on our Earth are going to be required if he plans to stay." Batman said. "I don't think that's unreasonable."

"I'll go." Mister Terrific said. He walked to the front of the group. "I'd like to research you and your emergence on our Earth. Historically, odd occurrences like yours are precursors to large scale disasters. I think the reasonable thing to do would be to try and send you home, and I don't think we should even consider anything else."

"Jeez Mike, that's a little harsh." Flash said. He scratched the back of his head. "He's not a horsemen of the apocalypse."

"We don't know anything about him. You can't assert that." Terrific said. "Regardless of his actions here, we know too little."

"He saved people. Don't you think we should give him the benefit of the doubt?" Kyle Rayner asked.

"No. Not without concrete information." Terrific said. "It's borderline irresponsible to do so without knowing everything we can find."

"I don't disagree, but given he has been overall beneficial, I think Contact has earned the benefit of the doubt." Batman said. "We've let in several people over the years, some of them with dubious intent, but this is not a military operation. We're peacekeepers, we don't reject helpful individuals, even if they turn out to be here for the wrong reasons."

"Bit charitable there, Bats." Guy Gardener called out. "You goin' soft?"

"Not at all, but I have often thought that this, of all organizations, should not be run with my mindset in the leadership position."

"You are a bit of a hawk." Hawkman tried to joke.

"Carter…" Hawkgirl facepalmed.

"Is there anyone else here to only offer him a place to stay?" Flash said. He turned to me and looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry, Contact. I didn't know we needed to make these competitive offers."

"It's not a problem. I wasn't expecting that either." I said.

The Green Lanterns, Green Arrow and Black Canary, the Frees, and Mera all indicated they were just going to offer me a place to stay.

"I've got too many sidekicks as it is." Green Arrow said.

"He's too much of a big kid himself." Canary whispered to me. "If you choose Bruce, please be careful."

I nodded to her, and thanked them.

"We each owe you a beer for decking Force, kid." Guy Gardener said. "But we do too much as it is."

I thanked them, and told them I'd be interested in meeting with them to see what would happen if I tried to copy them.

"Me too." Jordan said.

"We're living in suburbia, and we don't see much action day-to-day, but we'd be happy to host you." Scott said.

"I'm interested in your ability." Barda said. "We'll give you a number to call when you're done with Bruce."

"I haven't-" I began, but her laugh cut me off.

"Please, he's a persistent man, and he can teach you anything you want to know. Plus, I've seen his bank account. That's a nice bonus."

"When did you-?" Scott began to ask, and they walked off.

"Atlantis has a lot to offer, and you'd be able to learn a great deal, but Arthur and I run a kingdom when we aren't helping out you surface-dwellers." Mera said.

"Atlantis, that's only a legend in my world." I said. "I'd love to see it."

"It was only a legend here once, too." She smiled at me. "Whatever you choose, be safe."

"Thank you." I replied. "I will."

"And then there were fewer." Hawkman said. "Hawkgirl and I are offering you a world-class apprenticeship."

"We are?" Hawkgirl asked.

"Of course! I'm an archaeologist, and I spend time around the world. Kendra joins me in occasion-"

"Uh, I'm not an archaeologist." I interrupted.

"No matter!" Hawkman said.

"Danger does seem to follow us." Hawkgirl said. "You'd learn to fight, for sure."

"Okay." I replied.

"I didn't finish!" Hawkman began again. "Our-"

"Let's try and keep it under a tight five, Carter." Flash said. Hawkman nodded, but continued on for another ten minutes about the perilous adventures I was sure to join him on.

I was cooling to the idea.

"Anyway!" Flash said, cutting him off. "Next person."

"I don't know about you needing to go back." Zatanna said. "But I do think you warrant more study. I've been working with magical authorities and have found some promising leads. I'd be happy to house you if you need it, but the research is my priority."

"Totally understandable." I replied. Unrelated, but she was really beautiful. She also seemed nicer than Terrific. There was someone I wouldn't mind prodding me some, if I was pressed.

"I'd like to house you at my embassy, and take a personal interest in training you." Wonder Woman said. "Bruce is right. You have the stuff."

Batman seemed to be resigned to the lack of codenames, but he still seemed irked.

"However, I would be happy to wait, if Bruce wants to go first." She smiled at him. "A deal could be arranged."

Someone wolf whistled.

"Oh hush." She said.

"Did you bribe these people?" I ask Batman.

"Quality knows quality." He said, and dropped the subject.

"It doesn't seem like I'm actually getting any options here, Batman." I said. "I thought I was going to get a choice." It seems like I'm being forced to play his game, and that irritated me. Even though it seems impossible to NOT be manipulated by Batman, I still would prefer it if he let me exist.

"I mean, Batman is probably the best choice." Flash said. "He's got funds and he's one of the best fighters that's ever lived."

"So's Wildcat." Sandman said, having moved almost imperceptibly to the front of the amalgam of colorful heroes. "We could give you a place. Maybe even a trial membership in the JSA."

"Wildcat's pushing, what? 80?" Superboy said. He was leaning back in a chair. "No offense, but the Titans are-"

"No one's doubting either of you, but if I could put my two cents here, as chairman-" Flash said, and Superboy scoffed.

"Please, as if that's a qualification for anything." He remarked. "The League goes through chairmen like I used to go through supermodels." Wonder Woman hit him on the back of the head. "Ow!"

"Superboy, a little less boy, and a lot more super, if you wouldn't mind." Wonder Woman said, leveling a glare that would decimate mountains if she had heat vision.

"Look, I'm giving Steve options." Superboy said. "If he doesn't want to go with Batman, then it isn't fair for you all to bring these weak-sauce options to the table."

"My apprenticeship with the boy-" Hawkman

"My point exactly." Superboy said. "If y'all wanted him with Bats, just say so. Don't make me come here and pretend like this was meant to be Contact's choice."

"Can I still be a member of the Justice Society?" I asked Sandman. "Even if I don't choose to stay with you?"

"Sure, why not? Cyclone would love to have someone her age around." Sandman said.

"I don't know if being a Teen Titan is the best option for me, right now." I said, looking apologetically to Superboy. "I'm not exactly a teen."

"Neither is Gar, or Raven, or Starfire." Superboy said. "It doesn't seem to matter as much as people would think."

"Did you mean to pigeonhole me into working with you?" I asked Batman, who looked at me with a blank expression.

"Completely coincidental." Batman said.

"Oh please, if his ass was on his face, he'd spout less shit." Connor muttered.

"It seems like I had better get used to Gotham." I said. "I guess I'll go with Batman for now."

"Good." Batman said. "Now, the budget."

Hal Jordan put a hand on my shoulder. He leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"Keep in touch, let's try that copy ability some time, eh?" He said, clasping me on the shoulder again, and slowly began to move out of the room with the rest of the heroes uninterested in the budget of the Justice League.

Well, I guess I had better get used to being nocturnal. I suppose I've heard the city has a decent nightlife.

Last edited: Aug 25, 2021

Chapter Thirteen

I had just been drafted into fighting alongside Dick Grayson and Tim Drake in Gotham, and as soon as that was determined, I and other non-essential members were excused for the boring Justice League minutia, which I kind of wanted to watch, especially if they spoke about how they kept supplies well-stocked on this orbiting moon-station, but I understood that I was being shown the door and took my exit.

After another moment of goodbyes with well-wishers who had stuck around outside the door after they had left to chat and commiserate, they all filed away, and I was alone with Superboy outside the room we had used for the meeting.

Conor, to his credit, made it to us being alone before he lost it, doubling over forward, groaning and growling and shaking, his hands tightly pressed into fists, I couldn't see his face as he hunched over, but as he stood up, I saw it had distorted into an angry 'X', as if someone had taken the top and bottom of his face and pinched them together an inch. After his muted outburst, he looked angry at himself and launched into a little hushed rant.

As Connor was fuming, he began to pace around the hallway, grumbling about Batman's tricks. I missed a lot of the actual text of the rant, but some of it hit my ear.

"-That's the worst part," I caught him saying. "It's always so out of the fucking blue!"

I put it together that he was angry about what had happened. Maybe the Teen Titans would have put together a more comprehensive plan if they knew Batman had, but it seemed like I was still in a good position to prolong my life expectancy with the Dark Knight's training, and so I couldn't share Superboy's anger.

That Connor was surprised was surprising me to be honest. Blindsided as I was, I had kind of expected Batman to pull something, and I supposed he had actually been doing it this morning by meeting with me, because at the very least, he was Batman. Better psychological state or not, Batman had plans, and I guess Connor couldn't have anticipated that.

Upon thinking about it, that Batman may embrace mental health treatment, that could either be even scarier. Imagine Batman with objectivity and the ability to accept help from others? I turned away and looked out the window onto the moon's surface, chuckling while Connor fumed at the image of a Batman gliding around in a tucked-in polo, playing acoustic guitar and giving his youth sidekicks life advice.

Connor eventually stopped, took a deep breath, and I assumed counted to three.

"You okay, Superboy?" I asked. He turned to me and shrugged.

"I will be." He said, haughtily crossing his arms over the 'S' on his shirt. "Batman forcing his plans will always piss me off. Tim does it too, sometimes, they're so certain they know the right way, it's infuriating. Me and the Titans just about laid an egg when Tim dropped that solo Red Robin act and asked us to help with the League of Assassins awhile back."

"It seems like he's trying to approach the problem differently." I replied, and then shrugged. "Those are big shoes you all have to fill."

"That's true. At least Dick took over as Batman though, when Tim thought it would be him, he was twice as bad-" Connor began, but stopped and looked off. He looked a bit ashamed, like he had revealed information he shouldn't.

"Tim and Dick are training me, I couldn't ask for a better team." I said, trying gently to pry a bit deeper, a whim that had suddenly popped into my head.

"Well, if Tim is still annoyed Dick told him to kick sand when the new Robin showed up-" Connor cut himself short, and stared at the ground. "That's not why we're here though, you know? I'm too much of a gossip."

It seemed he wanted to ask me something, but couldn't. I had noticed him purposely holding back, and all the worries I had brushed aside because I was certain that Connor and I were cool revealed themselves, never quite gone from my head.

It seemed we had lost some of the familiarity we had shared on the farm, perhaps partly a result of my own actions fighting Major Force and the gap of time between when we've seen each other. Unlike me, he didn't wake up immediately afterwards looking amazing, he took the hard way, and I don't know what he's been thinking, or how he's processed this, or what happened in that time. I haven't seen him or any of the other Kent's besides Clark and Kara, and that gives me anxiety which makes me all the more willing to give Connor the space it looks like he wants. He's been sticking up for me in the face of his social superiors, he's still a rebellious young man, but I feel distance I didn't before.

There's a part of me that, upon sensing that distance, would retreat, but I'm on my own and I'm realizing how forcibly I could lose my current safety net, it seems now is the time to try and be a man of the people.

A problem I have is that when I have a connection with someone, I get comfortable fast. It usually manifests in talking about anything, no filter, which can be fun for others, asking me something ridiculous to which I give a serious thought out answer, but it has a drawback.

If me and another person get comfortable at the same rate, perfect. If I like them too fast, it can go south, as you'll take liberties by being too comfortable that can either pay off or be huge accidental risks that blow up on accident. I knew how some of this worked, but what about a month of prolonged exposure, where you become friends and then something crazy happens and there's time lost and a paradigm shift?

I didn't know, I wasn't in the comic book world before this. I was fast understanding that my approach to people previously may have been less of a measured understanding of societal norms and more wholly reactionary and situational, and now here I was flying blind, in a very complicated, very teen-show-plot-y potential social knot with people I desperately needed to maintain friendship with, or potentially lose the only social bonds I have.

Any other time, any other place, my brain would have looked at him and told me to vamoose, because I don't need drama. I wasn't so desperate before the swap over to the DCU that I would seek out relationships with those who are complicated emotionally. My then-current meaningful social ties were complicated and fulfilling enough and so I would always default to "I'm out, see ya later" if someone complex intruded into my life.

Realizing all this as I had to play 4D Emotional Chess with a teenager was very much me getting shoved into the Marianas Trench of deep ends, but the usual low-buzz panic in my head wasn't blaring, I felt calm. I was ready to accept a new type of challenge, not one I was physically underprepared for, but rather emotionally underprepared for.

I wasn't confident or certain when I began speaking, and I wasn't sure if I was being too pushy, these things made no sense to me, but my voice didn't waver. I knew all I could do was try and pull off the bandage, and see if something was wrong, and brave forward, because this was increasingly getting stupider to remain passive about.

"Something up, man?" I asked, interrupting the silence. Lotta build up to that, Steve-a-rino, but an important step in development is rarely as personally significant from the outside.

"Look dude, I have a lot to talk to you about." Connor said, not seeming any less combative from his annoyance with Batman, all the superficial joviality and spunk from his "I thumb my nose at thee, authority" demeanor was gone. He didn't look up from the ground. "About the mall, and Kara, and… a lot of stuff."

He gestured a thumb behind him, over his shoulder down a vaguely familiar hallway. We began to walk, he led. After a moment I placed it as the hallway leading to the juncture between medical and dormitory, right next to where I had woken up.

That kind of surprised me. There wasn't much of a difference in architecture on the Watchtower between individual locations, so I wasn't sure how, without signs or me paying attention, I had placed where I was. I had been pretty preoccupied when I first visited. When that strangeness, the alien nature of my realization hit my consciousness I had questions, but I was dealing with my growing anxiety in regards to my upcoming talk with Connor, and I felt generally that I had already begun adapting to the challenges of this new life, equating "I was a farmer" and "my brain just did something it's never done before" and so my brain took my general acceptance and moved on, and I thought no more of it then.

Connor led me to the Mess, a large open space lined with individual tables and benches, and I followed him. I had no inclination of losing my only friend, teenager or not, and bluster and over-analysis aside, as he sat me down in a corner at a table across from him, I was feeling nervous.

Nervous has never been a problem for me, well, there's an addendum to that. Nervous is fine, as long as it doesn't affect my performance, and in that vein, what that usually means is the less I know going in, the better I do.

Not school tests, or things that require preparation, but challenges that rely on my own ability- there's a lot of addendums, I was wrong.

Basically, if I don't know that it's weird for someone to do well, I have a shot at success, like that time where I had just started standing on a skateboard and someone told me to go down a huge hill. I did it, but then when I knew the risks, how close I came to hurting myself, I couldn't willingly do it again.

Is that luck? Or is it the ultimate challenge? How close to failure can you push yourself before it's up to the ethers if you find your footing?

"Did you know about my other genetic donor?" He asked, staring at the table. Lex Luthor, oh shit, I screwed up. "It's… I don't want to say it. But did you know?" His eyes are leveled to the table and he's waiting.

"Yeah, I did." I said, a pit forming in my stomach. There was no excuse for something like this- I withheld information he could have used, he should have been told. "If it redeems me at all, remember when I said we needed to talk about something, back in the mall? It was that, it had slipped my mind, and as I kept learning things-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, voice low and more like the moody Superboy from Young Justice than his comic counterpart, and I realized that all the things that held me from actually saying anything had been because the subject was hard to broach, and when it became more obvious that I needed to speak up, I waited until I was in a coma and his shit went down without any of the knowledge I could have given him.

"I'm sorry." I said. "It's hard to bring up things like that. I didn't want to if I didn't need to, because I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing here. I used to read stories all the time, where these nerdy guys on the internet would put themselves right next to their favorite superheroes, and they would manipulate things behind the scenes by giving away the spoilers to your life, but shit, isn't that kind of wrong?"

"What?" Connor looked confused at my protestation.

"Is there a natural order to this? I'm not within a specific story, or a specific time and place. I'm here, and all the things I know about situations like this, where I'm a fish out of water, what am I even doing here? Where's the One Ring, or the Prophecy of the One who will bring Balance to the Force?" I asked, a feeling of panic lapping at my mind as I voiced the big things I had been contemplating when the lights were out and I was wide-eyed and awake on the cot or bed some comic book character provided for me. "If I'm here to stop something, I don't see it, and if I'm here as a result of something, will me talking about it make it happen? If I give people general information about things that MAY NOT happen or MAY happen, either way, I foot the bill as the one responsible."

"So what, you keep the big things locked up?" Connor asked, voice strained.

"No!" I said, my passion getting a little more in-control of my volume than I was in the moment. "What I'm saying is, you having that information is critical. I was trying to figure out how to broach the subject, and see what I could do, which by the way, is little, because again, I'm a comic book fan from another planet, and not anyone who REALLY matters. Hell, to be worth anything to a situation, I have to copy you, or Kara, or someone with actual powers! I have no means to change things that I know, not yet, and so…" I calmed down some, and looked at Connor, who seemed angry and betrayed, and I knew it was because I had just ranted at him about my own insecurities and personal crises, instead of really saying with meaning- "I'm sorry, Connor. I really am, and I hope you can forgive me."

"I… there are other things to talk about." Connor said, and I felt like absolute garbage, but I stayed present instead of retreating to the recesses of my mind to sulk at my inability to get an immediate return to status-quo. I pushed away that whiny immaturity, and hardened up. I'm an adult here, I need to press forward, and being that whiny kid I was able to be back home is not helping here.

"Go ahead." I said, repressing the urge to apologize again.

"My cousin, she's stuck on you." He said, with a little exasperation. "Everyone is telling her that you're not interested, or not looking for anything, or whatever- it's not a great idea anyway, she's a high-school girl, dude."

"I'm not fanning these flames, and honestly, I'm shocked that this is continuing." I said, slumping over a bit. "How is this still going on? This-" I was about to say "this plotline is old" but it seemed a bad time to reference the world like it was a story, and cut myself off. I felt out of place, unshaven and in a suit in the corner of a dining room with a couple of scattered people in costumes sitting around, eating high protein, low-carb meals.

"Just letting you know. Has she brought it up?" He asked.

"No, the last time we saw each other was when she-"

"Went to STAR Labs. Believe me, I know." Connor said, and a little of the familiar humor crept into his face, he smiled very subtly. "Oh Connor," he began in a falsetto, "you should see him, he's in such good shape now! It's like night and day, and the way he took a punch!"

"The way I took a punch?" I asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"The Amazons are rubbing off on her." He said, and he caught himself, and his face turned back to the angry mask he had. I thought for a second that he wanted to talk with me like we used to, but I decided to quash the hope, and return to my listening.

"I remember that punch going differently, but she flew off before I vomited." I joked, before I could stop myself.

Connor laughed, and then his face, soft from the laugh, didn't harden, but instead settled on a frown.

"The other thing. Pay attention to this, okay-" He said. "We all have an agreement, in the Kent house. You give any of us a call and we come for you, alright? We know that Batman is often alone in situations it seems like he can't handle, and trust me, those situations are frequent. If you need someone with an S on their chest, you call us on the phone, or you scream REAL loud, and we'll be on our way if we can, got it?"

I nodded, shocked by the gesture.

"Are we…" I hedged, trying to force an early answer regarding the tension I felt.

"I don't know man, I'm sorry. I'm not handling this well, and honestly, it seems you might not be either. I've been trying to work through the whole thing with Raven and Cassie, and I'm not there yet, it's too raw. But you're a Kent, and adopted or not, Kents look out for each other!" He said the last thing in an imitation of Pa Kent. I smiled.

"Angry with you or not, I'm not going to abandon you, Steve. I get this is scary for you, and this isn't well-worn territory, not for any of us. That Mall shit though, that can't ever go down that same way, ever again. We were two Kyrptonians in that situation, we didn't need a sacrifice play, even if it worked out in the end, for you." Oof, that last 'for you' the addendum way he said it, that's some points of psychic damage against my HP. Hello guilt, my old friend. You've come to talk with me again? Please don't, I'm solid.

"I won't do that again." I said, and he appraised me, and I wondered if Kryptonians could willingly see if someone was lying. I wasn't when I was Kryptonian, but I had also very much waited to learn applications of the "super-sensation" aspect of the powers when I had them, because it is a lot of stuff to process, and your brain seems to just shut it off if you aren't actively focusing on it, which is handy. There had to be tricks to it, like, when you learn them through observation. I definitely had tells too, I was sure, but I wasn't lying.

I like this kid, and he seems to want to stick around, at least somewhat, so an accord is born. I am him, he is me, or whatever. Not the time for a reference.

"Okay, man. Stay in touch, okay? Sunday dinner, get there, or you won't hear the end of it when you do show up." Connor said.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Clark will tell you, if you ask." He snickered, and then frowned again, and then nodded to me. I followed him out and to the zeta pad back through the maze of halls, which I didn't need to follow him to navigate, as I would later realize.

When we got there, he held up his fist for a bump, and I politely refused.

"Don't want to have superpowers for meeting the new team." I said, and he nodded and smiled.

"Don't want to remind Tim of what he could be working with? I get it." Connor said, and even if it was forced, I saw him making an effort and I barked out a hasty chuckle. "Keep an eye on him, Steve, okay? He's a good dude, really."

"He'll be keeping an eye on me, I'm sure." I said, and Connor regarded me, and hit the button to begin the transfer, the machines whirred to life, and the screens around the pad said to clear off unless transportation to San Francisco was the goal.

"I get the feeling you'll be keeping pace with us soon enough." Connor said, and I gave him a look of confusion. He doubled over, and the last thing I heard was "that face was priceless" before I was alone in the room.

Batman walked in a moment later.

"Contact, are you ready to depart?" He asked, and I nodded.

"Done with your meeting?" I asked, as he typed in the coordinates and activated his weird encryptions (I wasn't sure what he was doing) as I stood on the pad where Connor had been.

"Yes." He said. I felt like in my soul that he wanted me to tell him what I had been doing and as I in general enjoy teasing and bothering serious people (I'm the worst, nice to meet you) I decided to inform him about what had happened.

"Oh, me?" I said, pretending he had requested information. "Just catching up with an old friend."

Batman looked up and narrowed his eyes for a moment before returning to the computer in front of him. He had lost the jovial humor from our morning together, maybe a result of the costume or what had happened in the meeting? Whatever, I pulled my foot off the gas, and clammed up.

"These are going to be interesting times." I said, and I felt the machines start up.

"Transport in 60 seconds, Contact." Batman said, joining me.

"Roger that, Batman." I said, and after a moment or two, I felt the machine properly begin the function and whisk me away.

Chapter Fourteen (Shakedown)

I stood across from Dick Grayson, hands up, in position to engage. Our hands and feet were wrapped in tape, ready for combat, and I was nervous because Dick said he intended to come at me with full force in this exercise. I wasn't ecstatic about that, as it had been an odd build-up to today, and this was the first thing we had done as a team, really, AND it had been a while since we'd all met up.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but I had hoped that the legendary fighter/superhero without powers who said he believed in me would stick around. The upside was I was getting two of his best as my tutors, but my first observation was that they were… unprepared.

Nice, but unprepared.

As I had walked in after we had arrived and exchanged pleasant small talk during the ride over, I was hopeful. How is Connor? Oh, you know Connor!, etc. That kind of thing.

Then we walked into the Belfry, the repurposed theater next to where Batman's parents were killed. Apparently, the Bat-Bunker is going into brief retirement while we put this new base through its paces. No one lives here, except me, and so I was handed a key, and shown around, and then they just… left. For like, two days.

When they came back, I had put on a pound or two with food delivery and my Bat Credit-Card! I hadn't trained or anything, I had just sat and watched television or read one of the books that were so general I was sure they were intended to be decorative. I mean, I don't own such a comprehensive historical database of middle-of-the-road bland fiction, but whoever owns this building and decorated the Master Bedroom did. Or whatever, I took the room, no one had a name on it, and I was living here. It had a bathroom!

I was so sure they had forgotten me after the first day that I was seriously considering leaving the country and exploring the world. I wasn't going to actually do it, but I was considering it.

On the second day, I was sure I had been abandoned, and so I contemplated breaking everything and trying to disappear in betrayed rage, but then I calmed down when I realized that there was likely a perfectly rational explanation.

It was then that they showed up.

"Hey guys!" I said, when I saw them. "Where have you been?"

They looked at each other and only then, as they would recount, had they realized neither had told me that they would need the next couple days for logistical setup.

After that, they asked me to get ready to train, and I agreed, anger satisfied, and problem temporarily dropped, one of my powers before I came here was selective memory of treatment, which is a… pretty depressing skill to have, I'll admit, but as you can see, that sort of thing can come in handy, especially when something like getting forgotten for days can happen. But, it was time to begin my training as a bat properly, and I was going to go all out against them, to show them if I had any natural skill.

Dick and I stood across from each other, and I, completely unprepared and up until thirty minutes ago considering ditching, prepared to fight Batman.

I rushed forward, and swung at him, which, if I may, is a hard thing to do period if you're not a fighter, and so me, not being ANY sort of fighter, was unsure about this punch to begin with, and what happened next really cemented my inexperience.

He tripped me and I flew into a rack of Bo staffs. Or quarterstaves, I guess, but one is more likely.

So, the first day of training wasn't off to a great start, but I had something.

I had a road to walk on.

---

"So you have these jumpsuits, but you don't have a costume?" Tim asked, when he saw me in my "costume".

"Don't you refer to it as a suit, or something?" I asked, and he scoffed.

"Yeah, if I wasn't fully aware that I dress up in a costume with a bird on it, I'd have more of an issue." He said, and he began to show me some notes he had for making the design more combat-oriented.

---

"Ugh." I murmured from the ground.

"You blocked three hits!" Dick said, "that's a record for you, and we've only been training for a week-and-a-half!"

"Is that supposed to cheer me up?" I ask, firmly in place on the ground from where he flipped me. I should say, he tried to hit me three times and I blocked them, and then flipped me over by grabbing my leg, and I'm sure I have like, sixty pounds on this guy.

"Is definitive progress supposed to cheer you up?" Dick asked me, with a cheesy grin on his face. "Isn't that a dumb question?"

---

"So you two think a weapon will help?" I asked, one day after we had finished knocking me around.

"It can't hurt." Dick joked, and I looked at him, annoyed. Dick Grayson really liked to push buttons, and then when you got annoyed, he'd just smile his easygoing smile, and you kind of laugh along because now you know you aren't the joke, you're in on it. I huffed, not out of real frustration but rather because even though I wasn't THAT annoyed, it seemed to get the guy to like me a bit better, and now I'm all about looking for those ways to fit in.

I'm supposed to be a superhero, but this new situation is making me more of a manipulator than before, I hope that doesn't become a thing I have to deal with.

"I can train you to use the sticks, if you want." Dick said, twirling around his escrima sticks.

"Or, you could learn secondhand from someone who learned firsthand from Lady Shiva." Tim said, flipping around his bow staff.

"Could I try both?" I asked, and they shrugged at each other.

---

"So, in our masks, we have these really expensive, really hard to make filament systems that allow us to use these special augmented reality lenses that work with all the sensors in the typical Wayne Industries suit, and have a nifty back-up link to every WayneTech analysis program, device, and resource." Tim said, showing me the innards of his Red Robin cowl. "Now, we can't exactly make you one right now."

"What?" I was genuinely perplexed. "Why?"

"Well, for starters, it's not exactly easy, and to really work, they need a cowl. You seemed less than eager for that when we discussed it." Tim said, and I shrugged.

"They seem hot." I said, echoing my earlier opinion. "Cool, but hot." Tim gave me a look and I made a face and shrugged like "whaddya gonna do?" and he turned to his workbench to grab at a device.

"Fortunately, we have this!" He held up a piece of equipment that looked vaguely like a cross between Geordi La Forge's VISOR and Cyclops' regular visor. There was a strap to go on my head, and I put it on.

It fit on my face in front of my eyes and was big enough to go to the bottom of my nose.

"Hold on, check this out." Tim said, but I couldn't see him moving because the visor was actually pretty hard to see out of, which I told him. He huffed and said he was working on it, when suddenly, something clicked, and all the tech in the visor turned on, and I was getting information spat at me from all angles for a moment before it all blipped off, and settled into what was labeled "low-danger mode" across my eyes.

Tim held up a mirror, and I looked at myself, and was shocked. The mask was black and covered a lot of my face. It wasn't bulky, and had two separated glowing lines depicting where my eyes would be on the front and to the sides. To be honest, it kind of looked like something Kyle Rayner would make with his ring, and I was into it.

I held my hair as if it was slicked back, and I had just trimmed the beard and now I had this eyepiece on, it really completed the "I'm the big bad guy's goon with the weird headgear in a sci-fi movie" look that I didn't know I desperately wanted to cultivate.

"So it's a VR Mask with eye sensors?" I asked, and Tim sighed. I personally felt I looked like I just finished having sex with some sex robot designed to look like the movie's heroine, as a way to assuage my desperate lust for her, as she's out of my clutches.

"I will get you for this, Grima!" I swore to the heavens.

"Who is Grima?" Tim asked, surprised at my outburst. I, kind of lost in my head for a second, snapped back to reality and began to explain.

"It's the name of the hero who stole away the object of my affection and brought her to the savage outlands, where I have to deal with the tribesman outside the sci-fi city, while their nature knowledge and hokey tech beat my sci-fi bling." I say, explaining the concept. This had happened a few times in the couple weeks I had been here.

"Ooooookay." Tim said.

"I worry I haven't explained myself better. I think this mask makes me look like the underling of a baddie in a science fiction film from back in the day." I said. "I was giving him some backstory so the fantasy of it would be more fun to me."

"So you… don't like it?" Tim asked.

"I don't see how you could think that's what I meant." I said, confused.

---

"So, I'm not really clicking with the weapons." I said, huffing on the floor.

"It's not a problem." Dick said. "You'll get there."

"It's been so long though." I replied, and threw the remaining escrima stick across the room, to the one that Dick had taken from me and thrown across the room in the middle of the combat.

"It's been… two days less than a month." Dick said, and I sighed.

"You guys go out patrolling every night, and I'm just stuck at home." I said. "Is there any way I could shadow you two, maybe?"

Dick seemed to think about it, before he nudged me with my foot.

"I'll consider it. Now there are still thirty minutes left of this weapons section." Dick stated, matter-of-factly. "And I KNOW I won't be able to get to sleep tonight if I don't get my full forty-five of throwing you around the room."

"We practiced hand-to-hand for an hour before this." I grumbled, getting to my feet.

---

"So, the third pouch in any belt will be smoke pellets. That's one of the Bruce rules, to maintain a consistent basic loadout on all belts, each one only has a set of a few potential items. Depending on amount needed, or other factors, we have anywhere from 6 to 18 unique items in the belt." I read aloud.

Dwayne Ruthless and I were both being tutored in the operation of Wayne systems and tools. I was reading a stack of manuals Tim had made to help himself remember Bruce's rules, and I thought that was insane, writing a rulebook to remember all this, but then I kind of realized that all rulebooks are made for that, and so I thanked his weird study habits and began to devour the material.

Dwayne already had blown through twice my own pile of books. I was a fast reader, and I was deeply engrossed in the material, and he still read more. He was more than a quick study and was apparently quite a bit more technically skilled than me as well. Now, I'm no troglodyte, but apparently, I am borderline "computer illiterate" which means I know how to get to the command prompt screen on a windows, but don't have any knowledge of what to do when I get there.

Organizing your file explorer? I'm your man. Hacking into systems paid for with money beyond what I could earn in a life? Call Delphi!

Dwayne is going by Delphi as his… avatar? Codename? Whatever, I thought that was a fun reference. I was told to refer to him that way in most private situations in order to make the mistake when I would call him "Delphi" in public, and not the other way around, so I apologize if that causes confusion, but it made no sense to refer to him as the name I usually do up until now without context, and now we are at that point.

"That makes sense, the belt thing." Delphi said, pouring over a manual for an old Bat Computer. Apparently, all the Bat technology, as a way of saving money, which was apparently a necessity, was cannibalized and meshed and all sorts of screwed with, and so one needed a working knowledge of all of the Bat-stuff to be able to work the whole thing.

Tim and Bruce and Oracle apparently don't notice because they made all the stuff, and the rest are geniuses too, and even Delphi didn't take much to start guessing intelligently about the computer hardware and systems.

I took that for his genius, being able to use knowledge on the fly like that, it's not a skill one gets to use much in my typical life, I'm, to be generous to myself, a lapsed student here, and I studied books about books, which, while being something I am passionate about, is not typically a practical skill set.

Even now, surrounded by these people, I find myself rarely getting to flaunt something I'm knowledgeable about.

Well, I'm in the "real world", right? But also a comic, so maybe a Pokemon themed supervillain can appear, and then my youth won't have been spent on things that have no practical purpose. Or maybe a Marvel crossover? If I can show up here, who can't? I'm a real person, right? If this is a real place, what's to say I won't get a shot to meet Spider-Man?

These are some of the abstract things I've been thinking about lately.

"Fascinating." Delphi uttered, and he had been doing that to me up until then, as a way for me to chime in and say "what's up D?" The fun bridge I thought I'd use until I got Delphi down pat. Then he'd explain, but I was at the end of my rope having to have things explained to me, so I just shoved my nose into the book and ignored him. He continued anyway. "So apparently-"

I know it makes me a bit if a hypocrite, I just shared something, but it's pretty easy to understand "hurr durr smoke is third" and it isn't the easiest, for me, anyway, to tune into technical jargon, because as soon as someone says something I'm not aware of, I'm lost and can't move forward until I get it.

So I sighed inwardly and pulled the list of terms I was going to bother Tim to explain for me out from under my pile of manuals and got my pen ready.

---

Tim had put the finishing touches on Contact's new gear. He wouldn't admit it, but he had privately cannibalized a bunch of ideas from Nightwing suits and older prototype costumes.

Tim had gone over budget a tiny few couple grand, but this was his latest masterpiece.

Which was why he was annoyed at what was transpiring. Upon seeing his costume, Stephen had shouted, grabbed it, put it on, and turned on some music very loud. Then he started to dance.

To see a large man in pseudo-military level technology shaking his ass to Anita Ward was personally unappealing and definitely made him a little uncomfortable.

Dick entered the room and began to bob his head to the music, just as Stephen danced into another room, out of sight.

"Good music." Dick said. "You aren't usually the type to jam out." He said, looking at Tim.

"I'm not jamming out." Tim huffed. As Anita Ward sang her final "ring my bell", the music ended, and Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch came on.

"How'd this make it past Bruce's budget approval? This is great surround sound!" Dick said, head bob changing to the new song.

"It's our emergency loud speaker. Contact found the audio hook-up and plugged in a Bluetooth receiver." Tim said. He hadn't seen it, but the audio connection as it stood was deep in the innards of the place, and it was pretty impressive that Steve had managed to find it with his admittedly low technical skills. He had either found it or did something to get the speakers to pump out music, and there was no reason for him to lie, but you never knew. It wouldn't be smart to trust him, not entirely, not yet.

"Why's Contact celebrating?" Dick asked.

"I finished the working models for the new Contact gear." Tim said.

"Gear?" Dick was confused. Tim had previously only told him about the one suit. It didn't take long for Dick to smile and shake his head though. He clasped Tim on the back. The guy always tried his hardest, and you had to love him for it.

"Gear." Tim repeated, and then Stephen danced in.

"Vibrations, good like Sunkist! Make me wanna know who done this!" Stephen sang as he bounded back into the room. He pointed at Tim. "Yo! This suit is so rad Timbo Slice!" Stephen said as he danced back into the room. He started doing nonsense chops and kicks in the air. "This is my jam!"

The jumpsuits that had been made for Contact were the main inspiration for the design of the suit. His suit was all black with a uniform low luster sheen, the collar went from just below his Adam's Apple, and covered everything else down. For the footwear, Tim had put the structure of an inlaid ankle boot, armored lightly like his entire body. All black except for the chosen symbol he had, the large red heart smack in the center of his chest. Tim had suggested a smaller one over his actual heart, but Stephen had laughed and asked if Tim wanted him to be shot fatally in an inevitable battle with an expert marksman.

There was a simple bit of armor over vital areas, but because of Stephen's meta factor and the enhanced durability that came with that, armor could be somewhat ignored in this suit, and the things the suit could do more than made up for that.

His belt was chunkier than theirs, mainly because the suit was designed a bit differently than any other before it. The hands weren't covered, as Tim didn't want to put finger-less gloves on this plain bodysuit design, and Stephen wasn't in any fingerprint database as himself, at the current moment. That was something Tim wasn't quite sure should be the case, though.

Tim wasn't entirely comfortable with how much easy trust that had been given to this apparently inter-dimensional fellow for all the trouble and oddity that came as a result of his appearance, but now Tim had been watching warily for a solid six weeks and it seemed that Stephen was a person who was bad at hiding his emotions, and hypothetically going ahead and saying his story was not an elaborate ruse, it also seemed he was reacting realistically and consistently for someone in the situation he described, if with an esoteric edge that was a bit hard to get used to.

As the older man danced around in his costume, and Dick, who had a song in his heart, began to join him, Tim realized that despite himself, he enjoyed the new viewpoint he was learning about through Stephen. It was interesting to watch him geek out about things completely differently than someone would. He didn't geek out because he was seeing one of Batman's batarangs, he was geeking out because he was seeing a batarang, which to him was a tool of fiction. That was fascinating from a lot of perspectives, and the scientist in Tim relished hearing about the ways that Stephen's universe differed from theirs. What an experience! To hear a universal astronaut, albeit an accidental one, make cultural references to things that didn't exist.

As the two men danced, Dick with the grace of an acrobat, and Stephen with the grace of a tranquilized horse, Tim did a sharp whistle to gesture for them to follow him.

---

"There's more?" I asked, bewildered.

"That suit has a lot of things to go over, one, and two, yes there's a lot more." Tim counted off on his fingers, as Dick and I followed him to where all the Bat stuff was held, the arsenal of the Belfry, which also conveniently doubled as Tim's workshop.

To the outsider, you might think the room we entered was a plain old room with weird tech looking flair covering the wall, but to see the room spring to life as Time entered was fascinating. It was like watching Tony Stark screw around in his lab. Tim walked in, and the room recognized him and began to put out all of his active projects, tables expanded with equipment undisturbed but definitely messily strewn about, and I was taken aback by it. The technology was definitely beyond me, and I didn't have any real need for it, but I wanted it. It seemed like the sort of thing that I was learning was "Batman Expensive" meaning, yeah, fuck it, buy a lambo, Bruce is a billionaire, but if you break the batmobile your ass is grass. Batman expensive was like "small country's military" type of cash.

Tim walked to the leftmost table and pulled a large device off of it, it was like a tablet with a cobbled together look, and gestured for me to walk over.

When I did, he grabbed a wrist, which had hard black armor over them that matched the suit's color so it was hard to notice, somewhat resembling Batman's gauntlets but without any triangle blades, and aimed a sensor on it over the bottom of my wrist.

He tapped the screen, and a moment later, the suit had disappeared.

I was standing in my underwear with the belt on. I was surprised and embarrassed for a moment, and then indignant.

"What did you do to my cool suit, Tim?" I demanded, covering my modesty.

"Why do you have your hand in front of your chest?" Dick asked, bemused.

"We aren't dating, Romeo. This show ain't free." I replied, getting progressively redder and more irked as I stood in the slightly chilly room almost nude.

"You provide a lot of problems, due to your power. I had to design around that, as well as around the way you use your power, your hands." Tim began, launching into his presentation and wisely giving me a blanket to cover myself with as he did. I was about to make SUCH a stink. "Realistically speaking, the important bases to cover would be what happens to your suit if it is not suitable for the powerset you are currently copying. If we invest millions into creating your own Batman-esque situational arsenal, we'd get a solution to that problem with a focus on strictly resources after a lot of money and time, which is not something that will work for your situation."

"It'd be awesome though." I said, limply trying to argue for my own super car.

"Yeah." Tim agreed, pausing for a moment. Then he continued. "So, I took the simplicity of the jumpsuit Connor made's design, and your current standard powerset, which is not insignificant, and made your new uniform. Near-bulletproof as a baseline is a big boon. It means armor can be lighter than a typical suit, which means I could look into already-kiboshed Wayne technology deemed too expensive or ill-equipped for our nightly activities."

Dick, who had seemed as surprised as me, looked shocked.

"Wait, Tim-" He requested. "Is that nanomesh?"

Tim's eyes lit up in delight.

"It is." He said.

"Tim, how over-" Dick began, cross, bit Tim waved him off.

"I skimped on his ride." He said, vaguely.

"I get a ride?" I asked.

"Anyway," Tim resumed. "I then determined that nanomesh, a Wayne technology, would be the best solution." He said. "Too expensive for commercial use, it's durable enough to use for augmenting movement the way we need it for, but it can't be armored the way we need, and so it isn't suitable, despite its many benefits."

"What benefits?" I asked.

"One is what you're experiencing." Dick said. "It isn't technically cloth as we understand it, it mimics it, but it's really like millions of retracting and expanding little robot fibers."

"It's easy to store. Once it's configured, which I just did, it can expand and resume its shape at any time." Tim said.

"That's amazing!" I said, in genuine astonishment. "How do I get my clothes back, though?"

Tim pulled another project off the table, scanned it with his tablet, and handed it to me. It was a sleeker version of the mask he had me try the other day, with no band to use to fit it in my face. I still put it over my eyes, and suddenly, it sucked onto my face and stayed there. It wasn't like, a constant suction sensation I was feeling, but it stayed right where it had attached to.

I could see through this one, despite the eyes still being thin lines on the front.

"It's stuck on my face." I said, mildly distressed.

"That's by design. I call your suit the Heartache, these goggles are called the Pill." He said, referring to my mask, not goggles. It looked like a Kyle Rayner mask, and I wasn't going to submit to this character assassination, I was a superhero and I wore a mask.

"We use our hands to operate a lot of the technology we wear in our armor." He began, grabbing something that looked like a gauntlet and putting on his arm. He then held his hand up for my view. "There's no payload in this wrist launcher, just to tell you." He said, and presented his thumb, which he pressed against the side of his hand. "But I just armed it." He then pressed his thumb-tip to the tip of his pinky finger. "That would have selected the payload I'd want to launch." Then he aimed his wrist, and a capsule shot out and ricocheted to a corner of the room.

"Obviously, that's not an option for someone who can't cover his hands. In regards to ways of assuring you get skin contact with someone, the hands would by far be the easiest way. Hence, the Pill. Ironically, easy to swallow." He said, grinning, and pressed the tablet. "I'm giving you admin controls now."

Suddenly, the mask activated, and I saw an option to activate the suit.

"Look at your belt." Tim told me, and so I did. When I did, the mask highlighted several different imperceptible to the eye switches along the belt. "The mask and the belt provide the interface, and now that they're coded to you, they're only going to work for you, unless I reset it. The mask will not come off unless they really try and rip it off, which is why it's smooth design is important. It needs to protrude, due to all the stuff in it, but it offers no handhold to use against you. The belt is unfortunately bulky. But it's one of our belts, and is fully customizable outside of the necessary technology for the suit. I've put in loadout 17 variation B, just a copy of my own with some minor cosmetic and weapon modifications for now, because I think my configuration is the easiest for someone to learn."

Dick scoffed. "We didn't record things like that before him, we didn't need to." Then he smiled. "You whippersnappers!"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Yes, but now you won't get angry when you refill your belt, will you? Because the mess is totally a relic of yesteryear" He said, matter-of-factly, and moved on. I loved it when they argued about old stuff like that, it made me think they acted like brothers, which was something I was kind of looking for, if I was being honest. Being a Gotham vigilante ninja is both the coolest and most insular life that has to exist, and so I got kind of an anticipatory thrill, thinking about that camaraderie that has to develop within that shared experience.

I pushed a button on the big buckle of my belt, and with the mask on, the costume began to appear gradually over me. I had to lift my feet up to get the shoe parts to appear, but that wasn't a huge deal.

"This is amazing! I was only half-joking when I said it would be cool if it fit in a ring." I said, and Tim barked out a laugh.

"I'm glad you did. It gave me the idea." Tim said.

I looked at the hard-shell armor on my vital areas. "What's the armor?" I asked.

"The nanomesh can't form complex shapes or change it's texture, but it can layer over itself in a approximation of armor, not enough for our purposes, we need it to surround real armor for it to work for us, and then the utility of it as a concealable suit goes out the window. If we need to be wearing hard scale body armor constantly, it doesn't matter if I can deploy my costume from my belt." Tim complained and explained, simultaneously. "It's the flaw of it, but since you're bulletproof-" he said, and I cut him off.

"Just to point it out, I won't necessarily take a bullet well, I just won't die." I said, protesting.

"Hmmm." Tim murmured, thinking. "Well, now you have armor too." He said, and started tapping at his tablet while I began examining my new gadgets.

I had trained with the belt, obviously, and as I messed with MY belt, I removed the Bat-Claw components, which is assembled by combining two separate gadgets, one, the grapple gun for the emergency point grappling Batman is known for, and two, the widget, a gadget that is basically only used to soup-up other gadgets. For the grapple, it reduces the pull to be more like attaching a rope to something, to be used like it is in the Arkham games, which is a trip, and also it gives the grapple a proper handle instead of being vaguely similar to a phaser from Star Trek The Next Generation. After I finished assembling it, I disassembled it, returned it, and then looked at the throwing gear. It seemed to be Little hearts.

"Heartbreakers." Tim said, looking away from his tablet at me and framing the word above his head with his hands. "A very catchy and appropriate name, but admittedly, calling them Heartbreakers made naming the suit more difficult."

I was in awe. I'm garbage at proper aiming, but I still knew the zippy flick I was trained to use to throw with, and so I threw it and watched it fly in one direction, seemingly of its own power for a second, before clattering to the ground.

"This is all incredible. There's a ride?" I asked as I absentmindedly felt around and made contact with three tubes, one shorter than the others, hanging from my belt as well in the weapon slot. I had a staff and two escrima, which was good because I was just as incompetent with one as I was with another.

"Let me show you this first." He said. "Look for the flight controls, and it'll ask you if you want the tutorial."

"Flight controls?" I almost shrieked with excitement. Tim winced upon hearing the octave I reached, and Dick laughed loudly. I ignored him and looked at my belt. There was indeed a little tab near my waist that indicated it activated flight. I pressed it, and a little figure appeared in front of me, giving me the option to begin a usage tutorial. "Whoa!" I ejaculated. "Can you see that?" I selected the yes button indicated on my belt.

"If we were suited up, sure." Tim said.

"Will the switches activate if anyone touches them?" I asked as I followed the tutorial program.

The figure indicated there were three settings by holding up it's fingers. There was also a text box that shifted around so that I always could read it explaining the suit's function.

"Only you. You're the user and you aren't wearing gloves. It's not very likely anyone else will be able to use it, unless you fight someone who has the exact same fingerprint as you."

"Is that unlikely?" I asked.

"Well, they also have to be wearing a Pill, so ehhhhh." He wiggled his fingers in a 'don't worry about it' sort of way. "Fingerprints are more common than you'd think, but the Pill is a great failsafe for that possibility, however large or small." Tim said.

"This must be expensive." I said.

"I guess. It has a self-repair function that doesn't need much except raw materials to work and like you, it sort of runs on sunlight, or more specifically, nanomesh, especially BLACk nanomesh, absorbs light to charge itself. What I'm saying is that I bought you a really nice car so the pre-owned beater wouldn't need replacing in a year." Tim said, and waved it off.

The figure clicked it's heels together, and I mimicked. Then it put its arms up. I mimicked again and the nanomesh appeared from the sides of my legs to my wrists to begin forming flying squirrel-like wings in almost an instant.

"Gliding. It rapidly deploys like we can get our capes to, and lets you glide. If you wanted to stop gliding you'd tap your heels again." Tim said. I did, and the taut wings slacked and sagged toward the middle. "That's descent mode. I tested it myself, it all works, by the way."

"What's the third?" I asked, partly to Tim and partly to the figure demonstrating. The figure and the text told me to end the current setting, and to open up another function on the belt, variations.

"The suit is capable of reconstituting the nanomesh into different configurations, and I know how to make a proper batsuit." Tim said. "I thought you'd appreciate the option."

I went into another menu and tapped what I was prompted to, and after a moment of retracting, and I was half nude again, and a few moments of awkward waiting later, a variant of my suit with a red cape and cowl surrounding the pill, connected to the heart on my chest, was being worn by me.

It was awesome. I mean, it was also functionally useless, as it was only my suit with a cape I didn't know how to use and a very hot cowl, but I did like it. I did what I was prompted to in the tutorial, and went back to the original setting.

"Okay, and last trick, take off the Pill." Tim said. "All you have to do is pinch at the top and bottom above your nose, and it only works for the person wearing it." I did and then I was standing in my suit without the mask. "Nothing advanced available, but you can always activate flight mode and get at your gear."

"Is there something more advanced than changing how I look?" I asked, and Tim nodded.

"Once I get an idea of how the power copying changes you, I'll get a better idea, but honestly, adaptations and reconstituting for different powers- it was never what the suit was intended for, so it's kind of going to be a slow deal." He said, trying not to mince words. "Regardless, this is just the first Heartache suit that we make, but I can update firmware, and it isn't such a huge pain in the ass to update the bots." Tim said, and then he brushed his long black locks away from his eyes, and grinned cockily. "Essentially, I have birthed perfection in suit form, and because there's someone who can use it effectively, you, I'm sure I'll keep tinkering with it. Maybe even get some over to Oracle. We have the building blocks to make such an amazing piece of hardware. So much so that you might not miss out on some super cool arsenal." Tim said, before he finally yawned and sat down, apparently very tired. "Sorry. I've been working on getting this right non-stop for a while now, and considering what we're trying to get done…" He yawned again, and then scratched his head, and his eyes kind of lost focus for a second.

"What Edna Mode is trying to say is that we've been giving it some thought, and now that you're kitted out, and you have a little training behind you, that with your abilities you might be able to handle a patrol or two." Dick said. "Any interest?"

I was nervous, and I was unsure, but then I looked at my bare hand and made it into a fist. The sight of it centered me. I felt strong, like I couldn't be beaten, and then I looked at the two of them and gave them a smile.

"I've got interest like a loan." I said, to a loud groan from the tired young man who had made me an amazing super-suit.

Last edited: Jun 14, 2020

Chapter Fifteen

"Suit up, Contact. You and I are going to get you some practical experience." Tim said to me after practice, a week or so after they gave me the Heartache suit and the Pill. I'm embarrassed to say that I wasn't the most enthusiastic at this command from the younger man. Despite my initial confidence in going out and doing rhe real stuff, I hadn't progressed much further in my training from when they asked me.

"I can't do any of the verticality shit, though." I said, and Tim laughed. Even though I'm equipped to take a significant beating, and to survive more than most, I haven't been able to get past my fear of free-fall, is what I'm finally determining it as.

"Don't worry, I'm just investigating something I've been looking into. Besides, you could use some practical experience, and I could use an extra pair of eyes." Tim said.

"Even untrained ones?" I asked, unsure, sweat welling and panic swelling, I took a deep breath, and Tim nodded.

"I know of no other teacher like experience." He said, and I got the idea that the matter was closed.

Getting my belt, which charged on a little device I had to plug in when not absorbing solar energy, and the Pill and putting on an outfit of activewear to keep it all high-and-tight took me a few minutes. Once I was ready, I put the pill on my face. The mask needed to charge, but could be charged by the belt and the wall-charging device I was given, sort of like a smartphone charger you activate by laying the phone on top of it.

The mask affixed itself to my face and I looked down at the belt for the controls. When I touched one of the corners of the hexagonal buckle, which was surrounded by metallic capsules and pouches for equipment, the Heartache began.

Tim never really told me what the ride I would be getting was, which was just as well because I'd need to learn how to drive like they do anyway. These guys, the things they can do with vehicles, it's insane.

I thought he'd use this opportunity to unveil the ride, or let me ride in the Batmobile, which is a luxury I have been denied, but rather, when I got to the garage, he was not wearing his cowl, and sitting next to a motorcycle with a thick metal frame and-

"You're absolutely fucking kidding me dude." I said, and Tim looked up at me.

"What?" He asked, innocently.

I pointed to the sidecar. The motorcycle was relatively bare and standard, mainly covered in dull black paint, except for the sidecar, which had a large yellow-and-black bat-symbol painted on the front.

"I'm going to get my ass blown off in that thing." I said, exasperated. "Why is the only thing that isn't black exactly where my nuts are?" I asked. "Nighttime firefight, it seems pretty likely some idiot aims there and I'm suddenly a falsetto-"

"Just get in the sidecar. I'm not having a dude who has 80 pounds on me riding bitch on my souped-up speedbike." Tim said, affixing his cowl and, once satisfied it was on his head properly, slinging one leg over the black bike.

"Why are we not driving the Batmobile?" I asked, and Tim shook his head and robotically rattled out.

"Only Batman drives the Batmobile." Came from him, a mantra almost, and he gestured to the seat next to him.

I thought I'd be more enthused when I was invited by Tim Drake to fight crime, but after a struggle to get my bulk into the sidecar, and an unceremonious (for me) quick acceleration onto the outwards ramp and we were off.

"Radio." Red Robin ordered as we pulled into the subterranean tunnel that linked a stretch of nearby unused sewer system and the garage in a very harmonious "private ramp" situation. As we hurled down the street, the bike rumbling quietly as I held on for dear life to my seatbelt.

Once I got used to the sensation, which I tried to do quickly, mind you, I established radio contact. I opened up channel four, the standard, and put out a simple-

"Red Robin and Contact departing Belfry." I said, and Dwayne's control operation began.

"This is Delphi." Came the voice from my earpiece. "Stay safe boys, I'll keep you updated on anything you might want to check out."

"Contact, out." I said, and communication had been established.

The city whizzed by. It really was phenomenally beautiful, I always loved cities, and one like this, where practicality matters less than what is aesthetically cool, are breathtaking.

That's a fun little note about living here, everything is kind of fudged up to look sort of badass or cool, and no one talks about it, because why would they? To them rich people who run a Fortune 500 company are just as likely to reveal a secret fantastical obsession with killing B'wana Beast as they are to do extreme shows of wealth.

It's kind of funny. In a world where Bruce Wayne decided an excellent cover for being able to depart at a moments notice was obscene displays of wealth that irritated and fascinated, a result of the publicity of his stunts led to a subculture almost like YouTube pranksters where young and old rich people clout chase by trying to do the most obscenely wealthy thing that makes people irritated with them. Stuff like paying for a private exhibition NBA game, renting out a cruise ship for a day, dumbass stuff that costs tons and can take off or not, it's funny. There's like, dos and don'ts and a whole self-policing aspect to it, let me just say if this is a simulation or something, they really invested in the ram.

As a result of that, if you can believe it, there may actually be a bigger class dispatity in this society than where I come from, but at the current moment, as I ride in a bat-vehicle to fight crime illegally in a suit that probably cost more than I've ever personally had, or, was likely to earn, it felt like I wasn't the one to comment on it.

As we zoom through the streets, I notice that we're heading into the shipping and warehouse district. It's not far from The Belfry, which is downtown, just 10 blocks northeast.

The Pill is wired to tell me what given street I'm on and can also give the address or geographical coordinates precisely as I request it. As we cut through traffic, I'm oddly at ease. Whenever I trust someone to be a good driver, I tend to be at ease despite what they do, and Red Robin is clearly not going as fast as he could, I know there must be some sort of peculiarity to having someone in the sidecar of a motorcycle, as opposed to riding by yourself. Aside from that, Red Robin drives the thing like he's attached to it, as weird as that sounds. I've been training with the two former Robins and there really isn't anything they're too bad at. Tim may be a little awkward, and Dick maybe a bit too lascivious and flippant, but they were just as capable as I assumed they'd be.

It was only twenty minutes zipping through the streets, the sun already almost completely set, a reddish hue had settled onto the city at twilight, and my heart was pounding. I'm the type of person who panics, it's not something that necessarily affects my performance, I'm not bad at shoving it aside to act, but I can't stop my heart rate from getting higher as we drive.

"You okay, Contact?" Buzzed over my radio. "Your vitals are spiking." Delphi of course monitors our vitals. I'm embarrassed, but I answer him.

"I'm a nervous nelly." I say, trying to brush over it.

"You going to be okay?" Red Robin doesn't look away from the road as I hear the question, and I realize he can totally talk to me unimpeached, he just hasn't.

"I panic, but it's just nerves." I said. "I'll be fine."

"It's not just you on the line out there." Red Robin replied, and I felt irked. I had felt a similar rise in my chest as I had faced down Major Force, but-

Then I stopped myself. I didn't need to feel insecure at that, I'm panicking, and Red Robin is telling me the truth. I just began deep breathing, focusing solely on the depth of inhalation and its rhythm, and eventually, the buzzing thrill of the unknown was affecting me less negatively, and settling down in the back of my awareness.

I'm a big fan of Keith David, and I just remembered him saying in an old video game "Stay Frosty", so I echoed that. Stay frosty, stay frosty.

Eventually, we arrived, and before we stopped, Red Robin accelerated and then cut the engine, allowing the momentum to glide us. It seemed we were going farther than possible, then I heard the whirring. The bike had an electric motor as well.

"This bike is really cool." I said, over the radio.

"I'm glad you like it." Red Robin said. "It's old, but it's what's going to end up being your personal ride." He pulled into an alleyway almost silently, and stopped next to a dumpster.

"Really?" I asked, as I used my upper arm strength to fully hoist myself out of the sidecar. Doing stuff like that, little casual displays of my newly advanced fitness, are still very thrilling to me, but I worry that if I keep doing weird things I'll end up like that kid in Transformers who is Shia LeBeouf's friend who climbs a tree for no reason.

I'm aiming for middle of the road normalcy here.

Red Robin got off the bike, and walked over to a door, which looked old and rusty. "You'd be surprised at the amount of technology that was years before it's time in the retired arsenal of Batman's equipment. This bike uses an electric motor, and Batman and the first Robin used it, way back in the early days."

"Really?" I said, impressed that I was getting a retrofitted personal OG Batman and Robin motorcycle.

"Yeah. There's tons of stuff that we got early that we're not using actively because our newest stuff is that much more efficient. But that means there's a whole lot of modern tech on older tools, and since every system is kind of integrated with everything else, it's not super difficult to just use a bunch of older stuff to give you something approximating the more advanced stuff we use." Red Robin said. "I love it. Using the nanomesh to make the suit proper was great, because it's really making me use my brain for everything else."

"Is this the place?" I said, impressed with his description of what he was doing, but also looking at my threads and wondering exactly how expensive they truly were. I wanted to know, but I felt like if I heard it, I'd feel super guilty that money wasn't used to feed hungry people or something like that. Is this a slightly more noble action than those YouTube wealth exhibitionists? Questions for a time when I wasn't focusing on the now.

"Yes, indeed it is." Red Robin said, affixing a gadget to the door. "I was given a tip about this place."

"Is that a Wall-Sonar?" I asked, and Red Robin looked at me with a smile.

"Someone has been reading the manuals!" He said, excitedly.

"You need to work on the ease of your prose, but yeah, they help." I said. The Batman gadgets included quite a few variations on the idea of a "Bat-Sonar", and such had begun to replace the word 'bat" with its specific purpose, or to call it something else entirely. Too many sound-based gadgets, not enough different ways to call it a sonar, how tragic. The Wall-Sonar was something you attached to a metal door or thin wall that used some kooky technology to tell you exactly if there was someone on the other side. There wasn't, and so Red Robin quickly made work of the lock.

"What if there are alarms?" I asked, and Red Robin waved me off.

"The person who owns this building has to know I'm coming. Don't worry. It won't be dangerous."

"I'm not worried about danger." I said. "Well, no that isn't true, I am worried about that, but what I'm more worried about is that you haven't told me why we're here." I said. "I may have kept quiet for too long about it-"

"Just come on." Red Robin said, opening the door, and I reluctantly gulped and followed along. Frodo and Samwise, I imagined us as. Or Harry and Ron going to meet Aragog, but the book, not the movie, I was going to play it cool like book Ron, movie Ron was a chode.

The door opened into an entryway, and as soon as I was in, Red Robin closed the door. He put a finger in front of his mouth- silence, and then opened the further door. Inside was a carpet-lined staircase, strewn with random clothing. Women's clothing, aside from a few dresses and blouses, that gave it away, there were also random pieces of lingerie. There was a clear path up, but it was messy, and Red Robin made no effort to stop his cape from disturbing the mess.

That struck me as odd. I was training to be a ninja, I assumed, and this was not very ninja-like. Clear evidence of a break-in? Maybe we weren't- oh.

At the top of the stairs, it made sense. One wall was lined with canned food and supplies for hiding out- a stockpile of necessities. Everywhere else there were luxuries. Chocolates, perfumes, fur-lined beds, beautiful jewelry, and aside from all that, cat-related memorabilia. Cat-everything, cat-printed curtains, bedspread, cat slippers, a cat-robe.

This was definitely Catwoman's hideout, and Red Robin wasn't bothering with stealth because of it, for some reason. Whatever the case, I was going to need an antihistamine.

"This is a safehouse." I said. I looked around and saw a few open cans, some of cat-food, which I hoped meant there was a cat, or otherwise- you know, ick. "Has Catwoman been here recently?"

"How'd you know it was Catwoman?" Red Robin asked, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"You serious, dude? I'm new, not stupid." I said. "Cats everywhere means we're either dealing with an unfortunate stereotype of an older single woman or the master thief. Either way, should we be here?" I looked nervously around.

"Why?" Red Robin asked, as he began looking at various things around the safehouse.

"Isn't Catwoman Batman's girlfriend?" I asked, following him inside. I picked up a newspaper next to a stack of papers on a coffee table, in which "Ice of the Pharaohs Exhibit Stolen" is circled in red marker. Seems a little on the nose to be a clue of guilt, I thought, and set it down where I had found it after reading the byline, Ruth Gurkin, and a paragraph of the article listing the critical information. Fast reading at it again.

"She's a notorious criminal, and something recently happened that I'm eyeing her for." Red Robin said.

"Don't tell me." I said, putting my fingers to my temples. "The disappearance of the Ice of the Pharaoh from the Gotham Museum of Natural History."

"Very astute, Contact." Red Robin said. "Are you demonstrating psychic abilities, or have you mastered the inner-eye to the point of reading things I've already walked past?"

"What can I say, some people are third eye blind, I'm not." I joked, and he groaned.

"I was suspicious of Catwoman for the burglary, for sure, but at the same time, this confirms my own speculations as well." Red Robin began. "That she didn't do it, is the theory I'll operate on going forward."

"Why is that?" I asked, and Red Robin smiled.

"Well, Watson, tell me what you see." He replied, and gestured for me to go forward.

I looked at everything. The clothes, they probably could mean the most.

"Is she fastidious, usually?" I asked. "In your experience."

"No, but she isn't a fan of leaving behind conclusive evidence of her occupation of a space." Red Robin said.

"So the clothes mean she's probably been here for a minute. There's trash, recent food trash, it looks like, for a human at the very least, maybe also a feline, and that means she's probably been using this as her hideout until recently. Maybe very recently."

"Good, good." Red Robin praised. "A good deduction. Why is she using a hideout?"

Saying "maybe she's investigating the crime she circled on the paper" seemed obvious, and also wasn't an answer as to why she was using this place. She could be investigating something that looked like her work from anywhere.

"She's on the run." I said, throwing out my second guess.

"Good, that's what I'd assume. The Ice of the Pharaoh isn't actually a good heist for Catwoman. It's an artifact more than a true valuable treasure, and as a result, much harder to fence." Red Robin tried to teach. "She has the resources, but there's also-"

As he spoke, I looked around the room, and had a brain flash as I walked over to the supplies and noticed that there were three piles of cat litter on the bottom-leftmost shelf. There were stacked bags in the back, a pile of four, and then other bags stacked vertically in front of them until they were past the shelf and leaned onto the shelf while resting on the floor, the brand was Great Grandma's No Clump Kitten Litter. I began pulling away bags until I found what I was looking for, it was smack-dab on top of the cornermost bag, in the narrow space between the top of the bag and the bottom of the next shelf.

"I found it!" I said triumphantly, presenting my findings to Red Robin.

"Why would you think we were looking for her cat?" Red Robin said, one eye lense open more than the other in an approximation of a raised eyebrow in a cowl.

I held the kitten in my arms. It was a very fluffy little baby in three little colors, a calico cat.

"I mean, is that important?" I said, pointing to the other discovery from moving the bags, a small safe under a stack of two bags, hidden between the others, a serious safe, from the looks of it..

"Why'd you move the bags?" Red Robin asked, and I smiled.

"Look at the way they were stacked. The back row could hold four stacked bags, they're like, forty lbs., and then they're stacked vertically in front, wasting so much space that she needs to stack bags on the floor in front of the shelf? That's either someone being inefficient or hiding something. You couldn't tell there was a safe from the front." I said, very proud of the thing I was totally making up while petting the kitten, who had gently begun to shift in my arms to get comfortable. "Plus, I thought if there was a cat, it would like a dark corner. This one is very agreeable." I said, cooing at the lil' baby while revealing my actual modus operandi. Red Robin ignored that and reassessed the shelf.

"So you assumed this messy apartment being messily organized was suspicious?" He said, and I nodded, not giving away anything, trying to get better at lying to people.

"Her name is Catwoman, and this is a cat, and a safe. I may only read her comic book appearances, but I know resources and cats are like an interchangeable one and two on her priorities list." I said, abusing my own backstory to come up with bullshit while I tried to get the situation to make sense to me. I decided to start talking and go through the thought as I did. "If she's got a whole lot of supplies, she cares about this place being a successful safehouse, right? Wouldn't that mean making sure in this regard, the supplies, that she'd stack them efficiently?"

"That's… a good point." Red Robin said. "Well, good job then, after you picked up the cat, I thought you weren't taking this seriously."

"That makes me wonder." I said. "If we just missed Catwoman, to the point where she'd leave all this proof she was here and her own animal behind, and maybe even whatever is in that safe, what made her leave? Was it us?" I wondered aloud.

"I would doubt that it's us, but still, I'd say it was nothing good." Red Robin said. "Keep an eye on the street, I'll crack this. My own mind went to the amount of physical evidence she was here. That's not typical, it's usually manufactured to look like something or other when we find her old hidey-holes."

He crouched in front of the safe, and began trying to open it. I watched him for a moment before turning to the street where I saw a van, a white van covered in graffiti, a bit down the street. I told Red Robin and he looked up for a second.

"Is the graffiti red and says "Protect Ya Neck"?" Red Robin asked, and I squinted to confirm. The Pill zoomed in some as I did, which was very cool, and I confirmed it was defaced with the title of the Wu-Tang Clan song. He smiled.

"Well, this is getting more interesting. Let me know if anything changes." He said. "Totally unrelated question, but you have a full belt loadout, right?"

"Yyyyyyeahhhh…" I said, slowly, and I felt the panic well-up again. I swallowed, and tried to focus back on the kitty, which I felt desperately needed protection.

He went back to his task. "Catwoman knows to contact us through dead drops. We have several such locations around the city for our eyes on the inside of organizations and such. Catwoman contacted me through one yesterday. I had looked over the report of the museum robbery and thought it looked remarkably like one of her earlier heists. Note I said earlier, she could likely fool Batman nowadays if she meant to."

"So you're saying that she's being set up as a stoolie?" I asked.

"That's a jump." Red Robin said, and nodded. "Not an incorrect one, though. I suspect she's been investigating this longer than we have. Maybe-" After a second, Red Robin confirmed he had cracked the safe, and pulled out a series of documents. He began to flip through them as I kept watching the van.

"Holy- Selina, you're insane." He muttered, and put the documents under his arm. He then walked up to me and peered by my shoulder. "We need to get going. That van belongs to Penguin's guys, they're watching the place."

"Do you think they know we're here?" I asked, shocked.

"Well, they have tinted windows, but Catwoman doesn't." Red Robin said, looking at me. "We should get out of here. I need time to read through all this."

I grabbed the newspaper with the underline, and a stack of papers next to it that were marked in similar ways, and put the kitten into a carrier that was by the front door. Once the papers were under my own arm, and I was holding the now-mewling kitten, I was ready.

"Let's boogie-woogie." I said. Red Robin looked at the cat but didn't say anything.

As we got outside, we put the stack of papers and Catwoman's files into a metal briefcase that Red Robin pulled out of a saddlebag on the opposite side of the motorcycle from the sidecar. We put the case and the cat carrier inside the sidecar, and as we were going to get in and leave, the van screeched up, and a pair of SUVs filed in behind it in front of the exit to the alleyway.

Men in suits filed out to confront us, some were armed with extendable batons and makeshift melee weapons, a few had pistols. Red Robin just casually stood there, and began tapping his foot.

"Hello there, heroes." Said a man in an expensive suit with sunglasses. "This isn't personal."

"Oh?" Red Robin said, and smiled before he did a hand gesture, and a plume of covering smoke billowed immediately out of front of the bike towards the crowd. That was the cue, it was time to get down, you know, fifteen to two, the only cover being dense smoke.

"Get them! It's Robin and Nightwing!" The leader said, and I frowned, but sprang into action alongside my ally, they flailed and coughed at us, Augmented Reality provided by the Pill corrected the lack of true visibility, and I pulled out my own extendable bo staff as Red Robin pounced from his resting stand across the distance of like, thirty feet by running on the damn wall to one of the goons, which he then hit hard with his staff. Simultaneously, he managed to use his birdarangs to disarm a few other hired thugs, who I began to kick the absolute tar out of with my big stick.

"Where are they? I can't see!" One shouted, before there was a heavy "-oof-" and he stopped shouting.

My size and a month of direct training from the bats meant I could take a hit, even a solid one, and still act, and I was at least naturally skilled enough at the fighting techniques they were teaching me to use them in order to subdue these wild brawlers. I could use the advantage of the smokescreen to get up close and smack the shit out of them with the staff, and I had been trained to be non-lethal but merciless in these situations.

Add in that previously mentioned smokescreen, and me having weaponry, and we began to make quick work of the goons. I had to avoid wild shots, but there was enough of a kerfuffle in these close quarters that it was generally unwise for these people to wildly start shooting lest they hit their allies. It didn't stop everyone from using their firearms, but Red Robin quickly dispatched those who risked it, and after that-

"Don't shoot you morons, you can't see them!" The boss shouted. Red Robin seemed to be engaging him while I mopped up the rest of the small fries.

I was too slow to be agile, but I was big enough and tough enough that I could redirect the blows that the goons were wildly throwing into zones where I was sturdy or bony or armored, and then I hit them with a couple of the simple offensive moves Tim had shown me in training with the staff. The weapon did the rest, and I knocked back quite a few of them in the minute-long brawl in the smoke.

Fifteen was quickly whittled down with Tim's oddly defensive hyper-offense and my own brutal hits to a more reasonable six, and I was proud of gentleman's contribution of three KO'd goons. Not too shabby if I say so myself, but-

"Oh no." I muttered, getting a look past the kerfuffle to the other side of the street.

---

Tim had been very pleased with Contact up until this point, aside from a few errors and peculiarities, he had been a good addition to the mission.

"I always wanted to test myself against one of you." The leader said after Tim had knocked him and his goons down a few times, suddenly adopting a Tai-Chi stance, and wiping his nose like Bruce Lee.

Tim rolled his eyes, and lazily gestured for him with a held up hand, telling the man to come and get it. Every so often, one of the nameless goons that a crime boss saved pennies on would try out some crazy martial art to try and be the "martial artist to beat the bat-people", totally ignoring that every bat got their asses kicked by superior fighters all the time.

Tai-chi? That was bullshit for fighting anyway. Tim got irritated by these fights, because he wasn't the most physically gifted fighter, but they needed to get back to the base, so-

-CRACK-

A gunshot rang out, and Tim panicked and whirled to look at Contact, terrified that the rookie had been shot.

Contact was pointing a gun at the leader. Tim whirled back to the boss and saw him on the ground, he had been shot center-mass in a kevlar vest.

"You motherfuckers better get out of here!" Contact shouted. "Nightwing's got a flipping gun!" He shot the tire out of one of the cars to emphasize his point.

"Are you insane?!" Tim shouted, running over and disarming the larger man while the goons scattered with their boss thrown over someone's shoulder.

"Look!" Contact said, pointing out into the street. "I don't know why we're really here, but that's- Tim-" He looked genuinely panicked as he gestured, Tim's codename forgotten in the terror of what he was seeing.

Red Robin looked out the end of the alley past the dazed and knocked out baddies, and the cars that were left blocking the alley to across the street. There was a large figure in a fedora and trenchcoat under a streetlight, the shadows covered his features, and the smoke had dissipated, so Tims AR had reverted to normal vision.

Tim reactivated it, and got a look at the features. Suddenly he understood Contact's impulse to try and get everyone away as soon as possible, crude as it was.

"What is Catwoman mixed up in?" Contact asked, panic seeping into his voice. "The Pill- it's telling me- is that?"

"… sOLomoN gRUNdy, bORn oN A mONdAy…" Rumbled in a deep bass over the mild din of the active city night. The figure took off his hat and coat and revealed the rotting waistcoat, the dirty and decayed clothes, as well as a bald, drooling and desiccated face of the undead reaver, Solomon Grundy, who oozed foul black fluid out of the corners of his mouth, which opened as he rumbled. "… MUst eRASe cAt, bORn oN A mONdAy…"

Last edited: Jul 27, 2020

Chapter Sixteen

"Contact, cover your hands!" Red Robin shouted, once he saw what I did. I grabbed at the belt and pressed the configuration for gloves. I didn't want to copy this shit. In the panic, I did what I was told, but also forgot to cover my face, an accidental risk.

Solomon Grundy made his way towards us, and I was about to shit a brick. I thought about calling out for Connor, panicking, but Red Robin seemed to be in control.

"This is going to be such a pain in the ass." Red Robin said, pulling out a cryogenic bat-grenade. "I don't have a single loadout item specifically to use against Grundy."

"What are his weaknesses?" I asked, drawing a blank.

"He can go down with a lot of punishment." Red Robin said. That we couldn't cause that punishment went unsaid. "Low mental capacity, easy to trick. Logic doesn't work."

I remembered Two-Face doing something to calm him down in

, but I can't-

Grundy got to the line of cars and pushed them all away from him, giving us a clear exit, you know, save the giant zombie man who outweighed us both.

"… MUst eRASe cAt, bORn oN A mONdAy…" Grundy said, pointing at us.

"Alright, fuck it." I said, and rushed forward. Grundy lurched quickly at me, faster than I was expecting him to move, and as I tried to pivot backwards and fell on my ass. Despite my error, I was lucky enough to quickly put the end of my staff between us as he pounced, which meant that as he tried slamming his weight on top of me, the length of collapsible metal delayed the impact long enough for me to roll backwards out of the way of his body slam, but not fast enough to avoid the debris of the staff as it began splintering under the weight of the zombie in my direction. A shard of it flying by was enough to give me a light gash on the upper thigh.

There was a bit of blood, I saw, but I was able to avoid major injury. The suit didn't knit itself back together like I thought it would, and Tim pulled me to my feet while throwing a few boosters onto Grundy's chest as the zombie lurched to its own feet. Boosters were little miniature rocket engines that attached with a strong adhesive that failed after a few seconds, just enough time to get someone out of your way who may be above your weight class. The boosters shot Grundy back into the wall across the street where he had come from.

"Does it think we're Catwoman?" I asked, confused.

"Well, it probably doesn't know what a Catwoman is, Grundy's not exactly a precision tool." Red Robin responded.

The boosters petered out.

"How did someone send Solomon Grundy after Catwoman? Why would they if they also sent goons?" I asked, watching Grundy get to his feet.

"Not time for questions. Get in the sidecar." Red Robin said. I did as he said and dashed to the sidecar, while he started the engine. As we rocketed forward out of the alley, I swore we'd make it, but as we pulled away, Grundy ran and grabbed Tim off the bike at the last possible second by the cape, and suddenly I was shooting down the street in a sidecar on a motorcycle I didn't know how to drive.

To revisit my earlier note about panic, and it affecting me- sometimes it'll make me act impulsively. I hadn't actually sat in the seat properly, I was crouching on the seat, and so I grabbed the cat-carrier and the case, and I jumped out of a sidecar going thirty miles an hour, straight up, barely clearing the back of the sidecar with my left foot as I did so.

As soon as my feet touched the ground, I tried to run into the fall, holding my precious bundles close to my center, but it wasn't too successful keeping my feet. I tumbled almost immediately into a roll I had been learning to safely fall, which I had a bit of prior training in, if you don't mind a bit of a brag before I get major road-rash.

I rolled forward, end over end, as I heard the bike crash in front of me and the cat doing a little "rrow" as we rolled. Almost funny in a morbid way.

As I skidded to a stop, I was absolutely the most tired I had ever been, but I checked on the cat, and the case, I had saved both, and hoped I wasn't too hurt as I got my feet to help Tim. He had been grabbed by Grundy, and I-

Well, I was going to save him. I didn't know how, and I was feeling dead on my feet, but this was the pressure that would forget me into a diamond, I was sure.

I pulled out heartbreakers as I put the safely rescued cargo down, and threw them at the odd sight of Tim pushing himself away from Grundy's proper grip by distancing himself from the undead man reach with the bo's length. Grundy had grabbed Tim by his cape- er, Red Robin by his cape, and was holding him by it, lifting Red Robin off the ground. Red Robin was using the arc of the cape and his staff to keep himself out of the giant's grip proper, and Grundy couldn't figure out how to get him to stop.

The first heartbreaker I had thrown with an arc. I was getting actually good with them, and it is so much fun to throw these things. The first one I threw had a bladed edge, and was enough to cut the length of cape being held by Grundy's hand away from Tim, who then put distance between them.

The second heartbreaker I threw had a small yield explosive, and I hit Grundy in the eyebrow, which disoriented him.

"… sOLomoN gRUNdy, bORn oN A mONdAy…" He uttered, and I remembered how Two-Face got Grundy to cool down.

"Delphi, give me the words to the Solomon Grundy nursery rhyme!" I said into my radio.

"Oookay." He said, confused, and began to recite them. On my end, the dazed Grundy looked at us angrily, and was going to go forward, but I began to say-

"Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday,

Christened on a stark and stormy Tuesday,

Married on a grey and grisly Wednesday,

Took ill on a mild and mellow Thursday,

Grew worse on a bright and breezy Friday,

Died on a grey and glorious Saturday,

Buried on a baking, blistering Sunday.

That was the end of Solomon Grundy." I said, and the monster seemed to be calm, or at least in some sort of trance upon hearing the nursery rhyme.

"How did you do that?" Tim said. "Bruce got him with drugged food once, but-"

"The rhyme calms him down or something? I read it in a comic. Let's try and get some information out of him."

"Can you repair your suit?" Tim asked. "I'm seeing a lot of you on the behind."

"Why isn't it doing it automatically?" I asked.

"Because if there's a situation where the suit is going to automatically repair itself, you can burn the suit out in a matter of time by targeting one spot. If an attack breaks it, the armor isn't enough to stop it, and so no amount of armor made by your costume would be able to." Tim said, wiping his mouth and drinking some water. "I can't believe none of us thought of telling him the nursery rhyme. The repair function is the bottom three belt corners, by the way."

"Well, I'm a cheater, and I did just hit it in the face with a mini-explosive." I said, pressing the buttons. "That could disorient him enough to hear it, or maybe be vulnerable." The suit covered me wholly once more.

"Grundy has a level of ability to focus, but- regardless, Contact, this isn't the time. I'll fix the ride, you stall."

"Me?" I said, bamboozled.

"Keep whatever this is up, and if you need help, holler. I'm right over there." RED ROBIN, not Tim, said. Sorry, I did just take a pretty big hit to the… everywhere. I may be concussed.

"Why are you here, Solomon Grundy?" I asked, from a distance.

"… tOLd by mAster, bORn oN A mONdAy…

… MUst eRASe cAt, bORn oN A mONdAy…

… If thE cAt LivES, bORn oN A mONdAy…

… nO pEAce fOR gRUNdy, bORn oN A mONdAy…" The monster gurgled. I remember him as terrifying, but this, it sounds like he's in pain.

"Are you in pain like this?" I asked, and black tears streamed down Grundy's face. I was tempted to touch Grundy, to try and copy him, but I thought better of it. Catwoman wasn't there, we had the info and the kitten, we were trying to leave. "Sorry for trying to fight you."

"… sOLomoN gRUNdy, bORn oN A mONdAy…" Came the reply, and Grundy's eyes narrowed. "… MUst eRASe cAt, bORn oN A mONdAy…"

The brief peace we had gotten seemed gone, and Grundy rushed towards me, and I pointed at the apartment door down the alleyway.

"The cat's down there, metal door, can't miss it." I said. "Go nuts."

Grundy stopped, and looked at me, curiously. Then down the alley, then to me, then down the alley once more, and back to me once more.

"… MUst eRASe cAt, bORn oN A mONdAy…" Came the reply.

"Yeah, cat's up there." I said, desperately hoping this would work, hoping my humanity and apology might make Grundy go believe the lie.

Miraculously, watching me the whole way, Grundy walked to the door, pulled it out of the doorway, and ambled into the apartment. I was agape, and I looked over to Red Robin and was about to tell him to hurry up and he wouldn't believe it when a huge explosion rocked the street.

The force blew me away, and I landed hard on the ground. As I laid there, I realized exhaustion wasn't just about physicality. I felt like my body was fine, but my stress and having to be on edge at that level was something I had never been before. What pressure, I thought as I just tiredly lay on the street, I heard things around me but I tuned it out as I wondered what had happened, did Grundy have a bomb, had Catwoman- had she known Grundy was coming and done this? Where WAS Grundy? Did Catwoman leave because Grundy was coming and she got in touch with us because she thought we'd handle it?

I really hoped it wasn't that, we basically just robbed her, I stole her cat, and then maybe blew up her house.

I couldn't keep my eyes open, even though I knew it wasn't the time. I managed to roll onto my belly, and tried to push myself to my feet, but the effort caused a lightning bolt of pain to go through me, and I collapsed to the ground unconscious.

As I came too, I got kind of annoyed, because this was two for two me getting knocked the fuck out on superheroing. I blinked away the shine of the bright light, and found myself in The Belfry's solar room. I was sort-of covered up, my modesty had a towel over it, and there were pants and underwear laid out for me with a note that said "for when you wake up" in elegant script.

I tossed the card in a random direction in a huff and put on my clothes before retrieving the note and throwing it away properly. Superheroes don't litter, kids.

I didn't leave right away. I wasn't done feeling sorry for myself, and so I began to reflect on what had happened, alone. Realistically, I tried to argue with myself, if you had faced Major Force without a copy of somebody's powers, you'd be a gahtdamn stain on the wall, and so this wasn't a total failure, especially for a second time mission that went poorly.

Solomon Grundy wasn't a nobody, and he wasn't exactly the smartest of cookies, seriously, when Tim had said it was easy to trick, you hadn't really believed him until you had confirmed it for yourself. You straight up told Grundy that his princess had been in another castle, and Grundy had believed you, that was quick thinking.

It had been a sort-of lie, but it had been sort-of truth, if I lied about it being the truth. I genuinely felt bad for lying to the large draugr-from-skyrim-looking zombie because the zombie was in pain, and because that sort of pointless tragedy made me sad, when used narratively.

Now, if that connection between us could be used in the future for my benefit, I would love that, but I'm also not desperate to become Solomon Grundy's friend, because he's a giant zombie man who lives in a swamp when he's not in the sewers.

Ashamed of my passing out, but still, trying to feel better about what seemed to be a victory, I walked out of the Solar Room, and up to the common area. Tim was sleeping on a sofa next to a coffee table covered in the files we had retrieved, alongside the papers I had taken with the cat, where different stories of crimes were underlined.

Using Tim's notes and the way he had placed the documents around, I was able to quickly begin to get an idea of what had been happening. Catwoman was investigating someone robbing mob-protected operations using her modus operandi.

Someone is robbing the criminally rich, they've been doing it for a year or so, and Catwoman has been on the run for the last few months because the bounty is getting too high. She had just burned her last safehouse by calling us, both figuratively, and now literally.

It seemed like my big first solo mission meant that I was going on a globe-trotting adventure with Red Robin to uncover Catwoman's doppelganger, until it dawned on me that there would be no reason to leave Gotham. Batman and Robin were literally already on a globe-trotting adventure, together, and that made more sense as a them story anyway, we were probably the comic panel of someone else giving Bruce information.

"So," I said, putting down the notes. "This is what it's like to be millions of Bothans."

Sure, being the exposition for Batman wasn't awful, that was a badge of honor for some, but I, a man gaining a lot of appreciation for the physical aspects of fitness, instead got super angry at myself and proceeded to try and work off my irritation in the gym by pushing myself super hard on the equipment.

It made me feel a sense of impotence, like I wasn't the main character in my own life, and to see the strings of this world, to see that there is no reason for the wacky new concept character to be there during the big "Damian meets his other mommy" storyline was depressing.

Was that my actual superpower? Being able to see that this was a narrative of sorts? What if this is hell and I'm trapped in this place forever a c-lister that appears in the back of the-

Oh my God, what if I was in- I mean, I like to write them, but that would be ironic. I mean what, you can't hear me, right?

Right?

I thought so.

I knew that a lot of strenuous physical exercise seemed like a bad idea after getting KO'd, but waking up in the Solar Room felt like waking up fresh out of bed, and I was told there wouldn't be much time in there wouldn't eventually fix, you know, unless I died, but-

I looked at my hand. I almost died again, did I zenkai? What would that be like without powers?

I finished sprinting and sat on a bench to wipe away the sweat.

"Working off some angst?" Dick asked, walking in. I looked up to him, but a rush of shame kept me from meeting his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess so." I said, I scratched at my hair. It was thick and wet with sweat.

"You really do belong here." Dick said, sitting next to me. "I remember Bruce used to give me an hour and then talk to me."

"Huh." I said. "Sounds like a real trip."

"Did you want to talk?" Dick asked, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Did I run for an hour?" I asked, perplexed. It hadn't felt that long, but I had been improving in leaps and bounds, and I had been in another universe of annoyance during. "Wait, how old were you when Bruce would do that for you?"

"Old enough." Dick said, which I assumed was him trying to avoid dropping "when I was a kid" in regards to the methodology he's currently using on me, an adult, but in avoiding that semi-burn to me, he also managed to sound really weird.

"For what?" I mocked, trying to keep him uncomfortable, but he ignored me.

"Tim told me how it went down."

"How long was I out?" I asked.

"Three hours, you were just rattled and bumped around." Dick said. "We got the cat to the vet, congratulations."

"For what?" I asked.

"You've adopted your very own pet!" Dick said. "Damian found out about it, and unless you want him to adopt Nebuchadnezzar the Bat-Feline, please take it for yourself."

"Uh, sure." I said. "Is it cool to have pets?"

"What am I, your super?" Dick asked.

"Kind of." I replied. He nodded at that, and shrugged.

"It's cool with me." He said. "I'll add cat food and litter and all the accoutrements to the shopping list."

"Also antihistamines." I said. "I'm going to love that thing for the rest of my life, even if it kills me."

"Were you allergic in Selina's apartment?" Dick asked. "Like, did you stuff up or whatever there?"

"No." I replied, evenly. "Why?"

"If you didn't get allergic in Catwoman's apartment, you probably aren't allergic anymore." Dick said, pointing fingers guns at me. "You can finally have a cat!"

"I had cats, two of them." I said. "They made it hard for me to breathe, and I made it hard for them to feel unloved. That was before, though."

"You don't really talk about it much, your old world." Dick said, and I shrugged.

"What am I supposed to say about it?" I asked. "It wasn't something so fantastical, it was completely ordinary."

"You don't talk about your family much. Friends either."

"Well, I mean, what do you want me to say?" I said. "I didn't end up doing all that much before I left, and it's hard to talk about growing up with a guy who has real problems."

"Real problems, moi?" He said, and I made a face at him.

"You have a life of real hardship. What am I supposed to do, complain to you about how I grew up when I get to wake-up in a place like this and talk to one of my childhood heroes?" I mimicked myself. "Well, see, the thing is, Nightwing, it was really hard to be bad at knowing when not to say things, and that made it difficult to make friends."

"Is that something you're…" Dick began.

"Yeah, it's a work in progress, but I'm getting better." I said. "I feel like I'm searching for this big answer to a question that's something like "what will fix me, make me whole" and nothing has worked. Maybe that's just how I'll be forever, trying to figure that thing out." I slumped forward and put my elbows on my knees. I leaned forward as far as I could to slouch, an anti-accomplishment.

"You're a regular Fisher King, Steve." Dick said. "You ever heard of that?"

"Ah, uh, no." I said.

"Didn't you say you studied English?" He asked, and I frowned.

"I'm more focused on structure than-" Dick put a hand up to stop me, and I caught myself before I began ranting about the distinctions that didn't matter. They called me on that a week or so ago, and I've been dealing with it… with difficulty. It's fun to find out new things to hate about your personality.

"A Fisher King is this King in the old Holy Grail King Arthur stories, and in those stories, he's this guy who has this great injury that prevents him from being whole, and all that he does is fish, hence the name. He's waiting for someone, I think it's one of the Knights of the Round Table, who is a chosen one, to come and ask him a question that gets him back to full power." Dick said.

"What's the question?" I ask, and Dick smiles.

"I figured you'd ask that. I don't remember. Let me just say though, your version of that question? It isn't found by wearing a mask, or fighting crime, or really love, even, it comes from time and work and doing things you can be proud of, and then this question you feel burning at you, it won't burn, and you'll realize there wasn't really ever a question to begin with."

Awkwardness of the metaphor aside, I felt better, and I felt like he was giving me good advice.

"Nothing wrong with learning how to kick ass, though. That's pretty cool." Dick said, standing up. "Don't hurt yourself in here, okay? Also- even if you know he's wearing Kevlar, no shooting, okay?"

"Ah-" I felt sheepish. "No problem, to either."

He offered me a hand, and I looked at it.

"Is there any real hope that I end up good at this superhero business?" I asked him, frankly, and he shrugged. "I'm a dismal one right now."

"You aren't so bad. Tim didn't have any complaints, and in regards to being good, don't have expectations and give it a shot, you aren't going anywhere for a while, right?" He said. "The combat stuff and training, it's all just a matter of time."

I smiled myself. Dick Grayson giving me guidance, what a turn of events. I clasped his hand and wished I was as good as he was, and that was when it all went to hell in a handbasket.

Last edited: Aug 26, 2021

Chapter Seventeen

Dick Grayson avoided the first strike, but the second, a fierce high kick, he couldn't. He grit his teeth as he felt the giant foot of his newest ally Stephen, seriously, the guy wore size 16s, slam into his head. Dick flew back and landed in a heap next to the free-weights.

One moment ago, Dick and Stephen had been enjoying a moment. The guy had potential after all, but when he and Dick had touched, there had been a shock, and Stephen had begun to seize up on the ground.

Dick had tried to intervene, but after a moment, Stephen had sprung up with an uncharacteristic control of the body into a full stand from lying on his back writhing. When Stephen had attempted that in training, he had injured his tailbone.

Then, it came immediately, two perfectly placed, well thrown punches into Dick's guard. Stephen crowded him, and Dick had been able to hold him off for a second, but well-

Dick pulled himself off the floor, and felt his chin. It would definitely hurt tomorrow, and the only thing keeping Dick from laying Steve out was that it didn't actually look like Steve had stopped seizing up. His eyes were rolled up into the back of his head, he looked shaky, and yet when Dick approached, he would fend Dick off with perfect martial technique, things that Dick hadn't taught Stephen, or really, anyone.

It wasn't just anything either it looked like, crane style, lotus kung-fu, these were mixed with other acrobatic martial arts, almost like Dick's-

Stephen lurched forward, and engaged Dick again, acting with open hostility, and Dick felt like it was time to end this, but after attempting just that, it seemed Stephen was actually fighting Dick seriously, and sort of- well, fending him off wasn't the right word, it was more like Dick couldn't really end it cleanly. He couldn't get Steve into a choke, and he couldn't knock him out.

Dick was quickly getting worried. Stephen wasn't making any real coherent noise, he was just coming at Dick with brutality. Dick broke away and ran to the weapons, with Steve following closely behind, and Dick managed to hit him hard immediately after putting hands on a training weapon.

It was one of Tim's staffs, and Dick firstly began using it to put as much distance as he wanted between the two of them. Steve didn't react in his face at all, but began trying to wrestle the staff away from Dick.

The ensuing tussle was weird. Dick tried everything he could think, but as soon as it had begun, Stephen seized up once more and collapsed.

Dick fell back, gasping, as the large man lay on his torso, unconscious.

"What the fuck was that?!" Dick yelled. After he caught his breath and shoved Steve off of him, he grabbed one of the many hidden utility belts in the room (the closest being right on the opposite side of Steve) and wrapped him up with wire.

He then went to wake up Tim.

When the two returned to the workout room, Dick had given Tim a rundown of the events, and the two regarded the unconscious Stephen.

"Did you think he was, like a sleeper agent or something?" Tim asked, and Dick scoffed.

"I genuinely think this guy is too harmless to have been of any use to a single organization." Dick said. "Whatever he did, he fought me at our level for a minute there."

"What do you mean?" Tim said.

"I might mean it more literally than even I think, if I'm remembering it correctly." Dick said, rubbing his jaw. "I did choke him out, so let's not untie him, but do throw him back in the solar room."

"Would that work?" Tim asked, eyebrows raised.

"Ehhh?" Dick said, noncommittally gesturing with his hand.

The act of carrying a bound and unconscious 250-lb slab of beef up the stairs to the Solar Room seemed easier when Dick proposed it, but eventually they unceremoniously dropped him in, and Dick and Tim went to review the tape.

Most of The Belfry was open to Steve, most of it. This wasn't, it was the internal security hub for the entire base. As Tim entered, he sat down in his chair and began to scrub through the footage of the event.

"What was he doing before he went to the gym?" Dick asked, and Tim scrubbed back to when Steve emerged from the Solar Room. Steve wandered around, got fully dressed, ate a sandwich, ate some peanuts, ate a day old container of beans and rice, and then walked over to Tim and glanced over everything. Then he picked up Tim's notes and got a really stupid look on his face, before putting down the paper, getting changed, and going into the gym. The whole process took an hour-and-a-half, and Dick returned halfway through from his patrol, only to see Tim sleeping, and Steve going hard in the paint.

Dick woke up Tim, got a debriefing, and went back to talk to Steve, yadda yadda yadda-

"There!" Tim said, pointing. Steve had taken Dick's offer of a hand up, and the feed showed them in contact.

"I told you I touched his hand." Dick said.

"You did?" Tim yawned, purposefully. "Sorry, kind of on fumes after sending all that stuff from earlier to Babs. Wouldn't mind going back to sleep, you know-"

"Keep scrolling, Romeo. I know you took Contact out because I couldn't be here and you didn't want to have to talk to Stephanie again, and he wasn't ready. Steve toughed it out but he's nowhere near either of us when we started. He might've developed another new power, Tim." Tim had the wherewithal to look sheepish under Dick's gaze and kept scrolling. After a moment of footage where Dick was losing, Dick said "Stop!"

"Holy shit, Dick- that's…" Tim began.

"The Triple Kick." Dick said. "Son of a bitch."

When Tim had joined the team, he (Robin) and Dick (Nightwing) had decided to try and develop a move together, using Tim's knowledge of Dick's fighting moves and acrobatic prowess, they divided an ingenious move that was totally impractical.

Basically, you kicked. Then you switch and kick with your other foot, then you spin and kick with the other side of the first foot. The Triple Kick, you must respect, The Triple Kick you won't forget~

Oh yeah, there was a song.

Naturally, upon making this absurdity together, the boys practiced it endlessly on their own time to try and get it to work, but still hadn't managed to actually ever pull it off in the field.

Tim and Dick didn't work together as often as they did with others, that was probably a contribution, neither wanted to be the one to do it without the other seeing.

Stephen, while he was engaging Dick, did three different styles of kick, and melded them together with the form of the Triple Kick- and it was on video forever.

"This…" Dick said, looking at the footage, tear welling in one eye. "Totally sucks."

"I can't believe it, is this the perfect or worst way for the Triple Kick to be used?" Tim said. "I'm conflicted. How did he- I gotta rewind that."

"What?" Dick was aghast. "He used it against his own sensei, Tim. In his sensei's dojo, nonetheless."

"You don't think he should get props?" Tim said, and Dick rolled his eyes.

"Firstly, this was obviously some weird power trance." Dick said. "There's no way Steve could betray us, even if we're supposed to be keeping an eye on him in case he does that, it'll never happen. He floated the idea of an autograph to me the other day, he went 'just out of the blue, you ever do like, signatures for fans, or something', and I had to say that I didn't."

"But you do." Tim said.

Dick admonished the younger man. "Do not encourage that guy to ask his colleagues for autographs. We are making good progress on him. He's doing well. The second thing is that he's a mimic, and he was copying me if he was copying anyone, and so technically, it was me who pulled off the Triple Kick."

"You definitely had the Triple Kick done to you, no argument there." Tim said, getting up and walking out of the room with a yawn. "Also, if you think that was 'definitely a power trance' as you so eloquently put it, that means you left somebody who was in a trance tied up in the Solar Room."

"Ah shit." Dick said, leaving to go rectify that.

"I helped you, I'm going to sleep!" Tim called after him.

---

I came to, alone, back in the Solar Room in my workout clothes but tied up with the multi-purpose wire that came from our utility belts.

It was tied very elaborately, but I could wiggle my hands around in their bindings. I sighed and dislocated my thumb, this-

The pain wracked through me and I let out an angry and loud "motherfucker" to the ceilings of this old theater.

For a moment, I didn't understand why I hurt so badly. I must've dislocated my thumb a million times.

"Why-" I pulled my tender hand through the now too-loose knot and began to untie the remainder of the complicated system of bindings. "Why did that-?"

I couldn't put together in my brain that I had never learned or used this move before, the movement was practiced and methodical regardless of my personal inexperience.

It felt weird, like catching a cigarette head high, but not necessarily unpleasant. It was a rushing sensation as my brain tried to ignore this new jump in the process, and that was when I realized, shrugging off the ropes tying me-

I stared at my hand, remembering the zap I had felt before I passed out. I wouldn't have noticed it, but my memory had been getting sharper, more vivid and quick to the precise recall, and I could remember that zap, all the way back at Kent Farm, back on my first night.

That was when Dick rushed in.

"Oh!" He exclaimed. "Hey buddy." He said, trying unsuccessfully to seem casual. He leaned against the door.

"Are we under attack?" I asked, worried. "Someone tied me up!"

"I did." Dick said, bluntly. "You might have a new superpower."

"I remember feeling a static shock or something, but that's it." I felt weird. "I just dislocated my thumb."

"Why?" Dick asked.

"When I woke up, I was bound, and my brain told me to dislocate my thumb. I'm also remembering things-" I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose out of discomfort, whenever I get really uncomfortable, my worst self emerges, and I felt very uncomfortable in that moment. "You and I were speaking, we touched, I felt that same intense sensation as the first time I copied someone." I scrunched my face trying to remember, ready to be frustrated at my own inability to recall, but I remembered at a moment, everything up until- "Dick, what happened after we touched?"

"You opened up a can of whoop-ass all over the gym. It's actually kind of a mess." Dick said. "During which you used a technique that Tim and I developed, a specific footwork and agility exercise. It's very limited in terms of actual awareness that it exists, so we suspect you copied me somehow."

"All that from some move? What is it? How can you be certain?" I asked. My tension hadn't released, I was feeling this feeling that I didn't realize I felt so often, a flare of anger and indignation, but I couldn't figure out why. I wasn't actually able to fuel it with any of the information I was professing, as I went over the older man's story, I saw no faults or flaws but I still felt that flare.

"Positive." Dick said. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I feel fine, I just got out of the Solar Room." I replied, maybe a bit shortly. "What happened?"

He explained, what I had done, why he thought I had copied him, and with that evidence, I had to admit I was persuaded to their viewpoint quickly. They had a video of me actually beating up Dick Grayson, which I found cathartic after he's been knocking me around.

"Don't smile." Dick said to me as I watched the clip.

"Why?" I asked, grinning so hard the muscles were kind of hurting.

"Does not even remotely count as some sort of victory for you, get the fuck outta here with that." Dick admonished, but I shrugged noncommittally, smiling ear-to-ear. It was time to get abusing my new powers.

The bitch was back, baby.

---

"So the working theories for Steve's new power activation are feelings of insecurity, anger, hunger, or a desire for self-improvement." Dick said to Delphi, who looked like we were growing third heads.

"So… he wanted to be like you?" Delphi said, and suddenly the large white board that Dick, Tim, and I, had spent a while on looked very foolish and overly-specific.

"You two are the world's greatest detectives." I said, feeling stupid, trying to pin the sheepishness on them. I picked up an eraser and began to wipe off the notes. "Just saying."

"What did you figure out?" Tim asked defiantly, arms crossed.

"Hey, I'm an admitted novice." I said, wiping off "deep desire to be in good shape" to write down "wanted to be like dickbats".

"Please stop referring to me as that." Dick said.

"Nightbat makes more sense." Tim said. "Or Batwing."

"Two names that good, wasted on bothering him?" I said, scoffing. "Come on, Drake."

---

"So he touched me, now what?" Tim asked, bo staff at the ready, standing with Dick, also armed, across from me in the sparring room.

The rush was always less intense the second time, but being on the ride was definitely interesting. My desire was indeed the key, as Delphi had pointed out so eloquently. I could go as broadly as I had, and get what I had gotten, which was an undefined amount of "Dick Grayson-ness" that amounted to being a lot lighter on my feet in a fight, more confident in my body's movement, and just totally incapable of feeling fear near heights.

I was so fucking happy when it went down like that, so unbelievably relieved.

I remember hearing Charles Barkley in an interview, saying that he'd never had any sort of real competition until he made it into the NBA, how professional athletes at his level were the first opponents he faced.

That was so much the opposite of what happened to me, I was being so generous when I was describing my earlier fight- it's one thing to be in a fight, the rush can get you through it, but these life-or-death tussles that I signed up for were so beyond me where I was a few days ago, it was like asking me- well, asking anyone to be Batman.

I was out of my element, able to protect myself, but not enough to be an ally, well now I was someone with skills.

Earlier, using the new theory, I had extracted and replicated complicated muscle memory to drive a motorcycle from Dick Grayson, and now, confident we could augment my skills, Tim volunteered for a spar, and I wanted to show him up- for every whoopin' I got from Dick, I got one from Tim also, and the little shit was a smug kid about it.

" Someday, maybe you'll master dodging, eh, Steve?" That little shit, well, now, I had his fighting skills and-

Whoa-

"I can- I can see it-" I began, blinking. "Wow, it's all- it's all so SIMPLE! How could I never have seen it this way before?"

"Well, he definitely copied you." Dick said.

"Hey!" Tim protested, but I wasn't listening. The world suddenly was made of numbers. Tim Drake's skills must be related to this sense of precision, something I was now seeing. I could judge accurately the distance between me and them, fifteen feet. I knew my stride inherently, how long it would take me to cross the room-

I hadn't picked up a weapon, and I felt like they were waiting for me to get one so we could get started. Suddenly though, I felt a grin, another smile, a lot of those lately, maybe something I copied from Dick Grayson. The thought was mildly depressing, but I shook myself loose, contemplating it deeply. I stretched to my full height, stretching up as tall as I could to the ceiling. The distance appeared in front of me, as if I had requested it, and my smile grew wider.

"Do you guys think it's depressing if I copied a happier demeanor from someone?" I asked, and then I sprang forward in attack.

My steps were off. My brain jumped- The steps were off, these weren't MY steps, I copied them, Tim Drake has shorter legs-

I threw a punch, something with a little pasta power behind it, with the wonky stance I ended up in when I stopped mid-stride. My left foot was wonkily placed, and so I shifted all my weight onto my right, which was currently my backfoot.

The punch was stopped by Tim's staff. I used the impact to quickly swing my left leg up from it's position and into Dick's rib area. I did all of this very swiftly, surprising even myself, and was rewarded with an 'oof' as Dick "I am so jealous of him I developed a copy power" Grayson caught a foot in the ribs.

He saw me kick his ass, didn't he? I wondered, as I adjusted myself after the kick and refocused on Tim. Tim looked dismayed, not angry or shocked, but seriously off his axis, which I supposed was as good as "you're probably okay to go into the field now" as I was going to get. My smile was so wide, I was so deliriously happy.

This was it, my chance to survive, to be able to make myself a player in this story- I could jump in now, I could make the Justice League like this, I could lead them!

I grabbed at Tim's staff, and repositioned my hand so I had his staff totally locked in my grip.

I wrenched it away.

"Mind if I borrow this?" I asked, and Tim, who put himself quickly into a ready stance, was slammed away as I swung wildly at him. I began to laugh maniacally. "Look at you two!" I laughed. "You beat the shit out of me for WEEKS!"

"Are you speaking about training?" Dick asked, pushing himself to his feet.

"Training?" I was delirious. "You're all insane!"

"Are we?" Dick asked.

"You can't even touch me now!" I said, taunting them. "Come on!"

---

"Are you over the crazy break?" Dick asked, bruised and huffing as I lay on the ground, twice as beaten as him.

"I dink you broke my node." Tim said, accusatorial, clutching at his face.

"Let me see." Dick said.

I felt insane. I had always been someone who felt… inferior, I suppose, but damn it, why did it come out now? The second I had felt like I could take these guys down a notch-

Why did I think they needed it?

Dick finished looking at Tim's nose.

"You'll be alright." Dick said. "You just sprang a leak. Calm down, we've all taken one before." At this, Tim looked over to me. I was still breathing heavily, but one glazed-over eye was meeting his angry gaze.

When I started working out, I knew two things. I needed to learn control and pacing, and I needed to do it by myself. I'm just a little too volatile, too uncomfortable when I'm vulnerable in that way- I know this about myself.

Dick led Tim out, and after they were gone, I put my head in my hands and ignored my sore torso to put myself in a ball.

The things I was doing- the knowledge I'm gaining, it seems all too much, but I know I need it. I just wish I hadn't had such a bad reaction. How much anger do I have? I swore I wasn't feeling anything negative, that there wasn't anything I wasn't okay with, and now I'm…

So many things were flying through my mind. It felt like Tim's analytical process was reshuffling the things in my head, connecting things along routes I had, exploring things I missed, using my brain to check things it missed-

As I lay fetal, brain processing the truckloads of data, I began to be suspicious.

The Kents, I understood them. They were down-to-earth farm people. They were kind and charitable because they were written that way- whoops, I mean, because they were RAISED that way. The arbitrary nature of that distinction was echoing through my head for some reason. Perhaps general frustration at social difficulty.

Batman, even a new-lease-on-life Batman, he's a magnificent bastard plan-guy, that's a characteristic of him that bad writers focus on to seem cool, so it's integral to him. You couldn't separate the two.

Batman… why did he invite me here? Was I so desperate to believe him, that I could be great, that I just came to Gotham? Why isn't he here? What's happening to me? Why am I here in the city, or for that matter, this universe? I'm beginning to suspect that no one is going to give me those answers, and if that's the case, then why am I staying in this place a minute longer?

I want to leave very badly at that point, but then the newly acquired part of me that doesn't panic quashed that instinct. This wasn't optional, or something fun. Training me as hard as they did, the two remaining bats here had to be keeping an eye on me, or maybe I was a convenient addition-

The problem is that I'm too suspicious and self-hating to 100% believe the nice things they say about me, and too willing to believe I could be a superhero to try and guess the real reason I'm here.

Dick re-entered. He walked over and sat down, and I was so scared of him in that moment, maybe it was panic, or my brain over-complicating itself to obfuscate the sheer panic- wait, no those are both panic, I was panicking and scared, and deeply worried that he'd do something to me for hurting Tim.

I laid still. I wanted him to believe I was asleep. Realizing that made me hate myself. What was I, a child? I curled deeper before exploding outward and wobbly getting on my feet. I was hurt more than I had realized, and even though my body was well-developed, it wasn't the sort of well-developed that it needed to be to do what I had been asking it.

Dick looked at me as I stadied myself against the wall.

"Do I have to say what you did was wrong?" He asked, and I chuckled.

"I'm 23." I said. "I know busting someone's nose isn't something to be proud of."

"You are though." Dick said, smiling, and my brain turned a switch. He was smiling and I felt open- the switch froze, and I realized something. I was just about to tell Dick Grayson how proud I was at beating him- why? Why let him into these thoughts, because he asked? Would he answer if I asked him?

"I'm not." I lied. "I lost control." That was true. "I shouldn't be doing that." Another truth.

"I don't know about that." Dick said. "You should know what it means to lose control. You were tougher than us, you thought. I get the sense you don't feel like you've got one up on others much, huh?"

I wanted to keep lying, but that seemed too much, too much too quickly, my brain told me. Back off. I nodded, answering Dick. The truth.

"Well, this seems like your opportunity to get ahead of a lot of people, doesn't it?" Dick asked, and I felt like, for a moment, there was this dark hand that was reaching out to me, tempting me to take the world. I felt like the only thing keeping me from it all would be a very hard fight, and then the dark impulse went away, and I felt guilty about getting so heated, and I realized something else. This new realization made me feel stupid in a different way. "Just know who you have to beat up. We all have to figure that out."

"I'm such a dramatic bitch." I said, frazzled. "Is Tim okay?"

"He'll be fine." Dick said.

"Be honest. Before this, how was my training going?" I asked. I hoped my face showed how much I needed to feel like his answer was honest.

"Slow, but I had hope. We were early." He shrugged. "Tim went pretty slow." I searched his face, and… he seemed honest enough to me.

"I… Are you all…" I wanted to ask him what I was doing there, but I stopped. "Is this something I can apologize for, and keep this tenuous friendship?" I feebly asked, trying to come up with an inane question that sounded like something I'd say in the middle of an attempt at genuine emotional contrition.

Dick nodded, and clasped me on the shoulder, and I felt a bit annoyed at myself. I felt annoyed firstly that it had worked, and moreso that I couldn't get more info out of the question, that I was feeling so unsure, and that there wasn't a definite answer to the question "why am I here" if training was going "slow". Was I being paranoid? I didn't know, but the question was occurring to me.

A small buzzer went off, and Dick looked at his phone. He showed me a symbol, it was a bat.

"The Bat-Signal." He said. "Tim is going to be mending that nose for the rest of the night, if I know him, and you look like you're on the tail-end of that catharsis. You feel like stretching those muscles of yours a little longer on-" He checked his phone. "Humpty Dumpty? That's actually perfect, he's harmless, and he might have made something we'll need to break. You in?"

My big realization was it doesn't actually matter. Regardless of purpose, I should still press on. I will undoubtedly become better if I do, and if I suspect that Batman intended the opposite, and… I don't know, it seems possible, then I need all the help I can get. If there's something in this program I'm doing that's a trap, I'll need to spring it because I don't have it in me yet to try and grab control from Batman, even for my own life. I turned to look Dick Grayson in the eye, blue met blue.

I stretched. I didn't actually feel THAT sore, if I thought about it.

Last edited: Aug 26, 2021

Chapter Eighteen (Nootropic)

"Okay, Delphi, brief Contact." Dick said, eating a bowl of sugary cereal while bent up like a pretzel. "I have five minutes of this stretch left."

I had gotten an eyeful walking in without meaning too, and so I was a little flustered, but as I sat in the team briefing room, I began to shift. The Stephen that was me all the times I wasn't honed in faded away. I was now this new version of myself. So tangibly made by my time as a partner of Tim and Dick.

"So what's the scenario?" I asked, Dick had left the box on the briefing table, Crunchy-O's, a cereal that tasted like it looked, a luxury of living here. I began to help myself out of the box while Delphi, who looked like he hadn't slept in a minute, began to bring up information on several of the screens.

My eye briefly looked over them, and I began to process the jumble of words I saw all at once. They formed in a thought after I digested them for a moment longer, and I said it without any filter.

"The Yakuza are setting up in Penguin Territory?" I asked, and Delphi looked up, dismayed.

"Ha!" Dick said. "He keeps doing that. How fast do you read?"

"Faster now, I think." I said, feeling a little proud of myself for the involuntary action. Delphi rolled his eyes and sighed at me with a smile before running a hand through his greased up trendy haircut.

"Like you said, C." Delphi nodded. He rolled up his sleeves and clicked at his display. "The organized crime families of the old days have largely become either Penguin or Black Mask, with everyone answering to one of the two of them. For the most part, we've been in a time of uneasy peace. While we work to reform the political system to help solve the problems that allow for these crime organizations to be in place, we've kept them under pretty obvious surveillance and control."

"Project Puppetry." Dick said to me. "That's one of Tim's ideas. Work on fighting the origin and make sure that we know what's taking place."

"It kind of sounds like we're allowing them to run crime empires." I said.

"Tim would have a more eloquent reply to that, but I don't. We basically are. The problems of the drug trade, just for instance, are deeply systemic. We would prefer isolated hubs for criminal activity away from the general populace, with what we have, we investigate anything we can shut-down, and work to solve the problems we can't." Dick said. "You can't punch a drug addict into recovery, Contact. What do you want us to do?"

I had no solution after thinking, and so I shrugged. I resolved to look up anything I could on Project Puppetry.

"Like you said, we've been seeing the presence of members of Japanese crime syndicates in Gotham." Delphi said. I found this odd, what would Japanese criminals want with an East Coast port? "This has been unusual for a few reasons."

"Yakuza on the US East Coast?" I asked, and Delphi laughed at me.

"Well, not exactly. If there's a money stream to be made, you can imagine it being attractive to criminals. The shipping industry is worth billions of dollars, and everyone wants a piece of that pie."

"Also, assets." Dick interjected. "Gotham, being a city, has lots of ways to dump illegally gotten gains into some sort of legal scheme."

"Remind me to tell you about why people actually build houses worth hundreds of millions." Delphi said.

"Oh boy." Dick replied.

"I don't know how you inducting me into a billionaire's private war on crime would make me any less suspicious of conspiracies and plots." Delphi said, and I laughed. "Anyway, speaking of investing in property, a man by the name of Bob Hakeem recently purchased a space deep in the heart of Penguin's territory."

"Bob Hakeem?" I asked. "What?"

"It's an alias." Delphi said, and I looked at him, wondering if he thought I was stupid, before he continued. "An alias for one Ryusuke Nakahara, a known lieutenant of the Hitaka-gumi Yakuza organization."

"Whaaaaaat." I said, confused.

"There's a couple of crime syndicates in Japan, and this one is the hungry little brother looking for his own little slice of some sort of pie. Japan's new superhero-worship culture inspires a lot of hero groups to pop up, and it's getting harder for syndicates to gain business."

"Okay." I said. "So, why are they here?" I asked, and I felt a hand clasp me on the shoulder. I looked to see Dick, done with his stretch with an eyebrow raised. He gestured over his shoulder, and I understood.

"Please stop eating my cereal." Dick said.

"Sorry."

Batman and I were sitting in the Batmobile, checking off all the marks before we were going to leave. My belt was all loaded, I was warmed up, I had eaten properly, gone to the bathroom, and we were about to leave. I had so far, after the middling first adventure, gone on two Batman adventures with Dick, the humpty dumpty one that was just an action scene, and some weird thing with Kite-Man, who I respected too much to not take seriously.

Tim and I had quickly made up. He wasn't the sort, it seemed, to keep resentments, but he never took himself off his guard the same way he used to, which kind of made me happy. He didn't take his guard down around Dick either, and so I took it as a sign of mutual respect.

Usually, I was sure this would be the sort of thing Dick would take care of with Tim, but I was getting better extremely quickly, and besides that, I had heard through the grapevine that tonight was the night for Tim to go off and mend whatever weird fence had been busted with the other team protecting Gotham, Batgirl and Oracle. I had specifically tried to get as little information as I could about it. I've begun to think of this place, now especially more than ever after my new abilities manifested, as 'flag-land'. As much as I can't look at these people and see anything other than people, it's become more and more clear to me that this universe plays by rules that I know and they might not.

These rules, hidden to everyone, are the rules of narrative. I began to seriously think about my time here, a series of me getting good relationships with the key players of a universe and developing crazy powers. It sounds like some story I'd write, and so I decided to try and adapt my mindset to that reality.

If it turned out to be true, I would have a benefit for all my time here, and that is something I'm interested in keeping, regardless of the seeming advantage of my current status. If I take away my own insecurities and doubts, this is a dream scenario, right? I'm the one who is having the difficulty, and that's… well, it's not atypical, for me. It always could end up turning out that I'm in the middle of my own "you don't know what you've got" plot. I wish now I wasn't so suspicious of some sort of metaphysical force, but when shown a problem like "you're now some other person, in some other place" and not to suspect divine intervention seems a bit foolish to me.

"You ready?" Batman asked, smiling, and I grinned back. If the rules of narrative were in place, this was a proper mission, and it meant something was on the line, right? I had a bit of experience now, this could very well be him testing me.

I felt good about the possibility, honestly I did, and so I was actually ready. "Sure am."

"Take-off." Dick said, and the hover mode started. The modular ATV Batmobile/Wing thing was such a cool gadget, but I could NOT drive it at all. I understood "Batman drives the Batmobile" a bit better now. This is a car that flies and has serious military tech used for the apprehension of high-powered targets. We were hitting triple digits on the freeway in a rolling tank that I wasn't positive did NOT turn into a robot. They told me it didn't, but I'm developing a healthy dose of suspicion, just like Delphi.

The "runway" was the same in vehicle or flight mode, and when the moment was right, we flew out from the deserted street into the night. I'm very glad for the seatbelts as we hit speeds that tingle the nethers in a way I'm not particularly fond of, but still, watching Dick pilot the thing, he's a real pro.

Penguin territory in this instance meant the area near the shipyard, where storage warehouses for freight in process were stored. One of which, Building 15, had been purchased by Mister Bob Hakeem. I know he has a real name, but he's always going to be Mr. Hakeem to me.

This specific area was owned properly by several corporations who rented out the area to those who wanted to store their goods safely for a tidy profit, and so buying one meant a lot of money changed hands between powerful people, or so I was told. There was a wide fence, but the area was filled by 45 different mid-sized storage facilities, being easily the biggest and most profitable of it's type of little storage conglomerates. We touched down near Building 32, which was isolated, and drove it closer, into what is defined in Tim's manuals as "actionable homing distance" for the Batmobile remote control Dick always carried with himself.

Once we parked the car, it was a quick zip up to the rooftop of what was labelled building 17, and crept up the row. The buildings were in lines of five, groups of two, and so we crept up with them on our left.

"Why is there so little security?" I asked, and Batman scoffed.

"No one in this city thinks this place is unguarded for long. It's protected by Penguin. He runs a legitimate security firm by which he employs his stooges and feeds them tasks with "plausible deniability"." Batman said with a sort-of trademark Batman scowl. "No one touches it."

"What's the name of the firm?" I asked. "Bird or Ice pun?"

"Bird. Cassowary Security." Batman said. "But look." He pointed down, and I saw two young asian men at the door to building fifteen.

"I'll be honest with you, Batman." I said. "I don't think either of those men looks like a Bob Hakeem."

"I was thinking something similar." Batman said. "They look like they're focusing hard."

"They could probably use a break." I suggested. Batman pulled out a batarang, and I pulled out a heartbreaker. After a beat, we both threw, and down they went.

Batman made a running glide jump to cross the distance, but I didn't want to deploy my arm gliders or cape, so I just zipped across. The unsung hero of the mobility gadgets when thinking outside of a video game system is the line launcher. Movement between two points with precision is, mwah, I kiss the air in metaphorical appreciation. Copying Tim and Dick has given me good aim and real confidence in my body's movement, but also a healthy appreciation for the wide-array of tools I had.

Batman prefers the leaps and jumps that I would expect from an acrobat who came by his skills honestly. I compare what happens to me now as "cat syndrome". All I can really manage when I'm the one driving, and not what feels like the right thing to do, honestly trying, is to land without hurting myself. I'm proud of that, and it's easier to move, but I haven't been copying people willy-nilly, and Tim and Dick, that's already a wide amount of things to change my mind.

I don't properly copy information, more like I learn muscle memory and habit, and while that is definitely useful, it's not like I actually know how to fight, my wild moves are just really naturally keenly placed and powerful. I'm like Mugen from Samurai Champloo, which means I'm tough to fight, but if you can get my number, which Tim and Dick manage to do after a while of fighting me, there isn't much depth. It's my newest thing to work on, trying to make the instinctual more rooted in my own genuine experiences.

It seems to be based around an initial burst of the worldview a person has, or my own physical reaction to the stimulus of copying, and then settles in as the useful base of knowledge that seems to be integrating itself into my brain with no trouble.

I'm not certain about how I'm affected outside of the copying of these instincts, which could be better than what it actually is, but hell, it's pretty great. I'm hesitant to actually use it as I could, but that's probably because the first two I copied kept me in the money when it comes to skills I'd need for what they want me to do.

There's a The Room-style doorway on the roof We enter through the top of the building, and creep through. My pill shows me there are four people in the building, and Batman immediately heads off to one of the two outliers, likely interior guards. I nod and make my way to the other.

The two remaining figures are in an office in the center of the building. It's actually pretty hard to walk on invisible floors you can't see, so "detective vision" as I know it doesn't stay on all the time. It's technically called AR Investigative Interface Tool, but no one has a name for it because they don't refer to how they're ALWAYS using it. It's an amazing tool, but it also kind of pulls away from the detective mystique, or maybe Bruce doesn't use it like I'm guessing he does, who knows?

Either way, creeping up on some japanese kid with an uzi is pretty easy for me now, and choking him out, frisking, and then handcuffing him to a desk while gagged is over in a minute or so. I turn on AR. I see Batman has done the same, and is now creeping to above the two on the third floor of the little office area. There isn't a ton of space devoted to it, but three floors of various rooms do take up a corner of this warehouse.

I did my part on the first, and it looks like Batman is setting up a sandwich.

"Negative on the sandwich. The whole room is reinforced. We need to get in from the door." Comes over the radio from Batman's gravelly monotone. I begin stealthily moving my way up to the entrance to the office.

The door is reinforced too, but there's a keypad that opens it, and Batman feeds a wire from his gauntlets into the keypad. It clicks and the door unlocks, and Batman throws in a smoke-bomb.

"That's pretty smart." I said. "They'll need to get out this way."

"I'm Batman." Batman said, and I nodded. Then two men burst into the hallway, dividing Batman and myself. It was cramped. One of them had a shaved head and a lime-green suit, tattoos snaked up his neck- he was the one facing me.

He was coughing heavily, but still managed to look at me so intensely I got a little intimidated. He immediately lunged at me, which I ducked out of the way of, and pushed at his back, sending him colliding into the wall.

It wasn't a devastating hit, but I was locked in from then-on.

He could legitimately fight, but I wasn't training, this wasn't a battle with Dick or Tim, this guy was a criminal. I pulled out my collapsed staff and half extended it into a singlestick. He scowled at that. I was the one to swing my stick at him, which he dodged, but I wanted him to do that.

A half stop of the blow and a redirected arm meant I kept him off his balance and was able to whack him in the nose, not hard, but enough to pop the cork on the blood.

He was dazed, but I was ready. I wanted to press the advantage, so I pushed him back, and he stumbled a bit. As I was about to drop a hammer of a blow on his head, he shook off the hit and stopped my hit with an arm.

A muted clang. Armor? The pause was enough and the smoke finished clearing out into the hallway. There was a fine haze throughout the place. Smoke alarms would've gone off if this was up to code, I made a note of that. The yakuza kicked at my center and dove into the room. I looked over to see Dick engaged in a heavy slugfest with the other assailant, a much larger man with a row of gold teeth.

He looked like the boss, and therefore, really more of a Batman enemy, so I followed my small fry deeper into the Yakuza building.

He was across the room, and yelled as he saw me, brandishing a katana he had taken off of a rack that looked like the real things. The blade whipped around as I tried to keep my eyes on it, a twisted attempt at teaching me the lesson I should have learned in tee-ball- eyes on the ball.

One wince, and I feel a warm wetness down my lower arm. It's shallow, but I am bleeding some.

"Son of a bitch!" I shout, backing away. He manages to catch the tip of the stick and disarm me, but I do my thing.

I slap him, and I'm off to the races. I wanted to learn how to fight with a sword, that was the request, so I'm not surprised when the second flurry of swings comes at me that I can pick out where to dodge a lot easier.

I slip out of his reach and bound over to the rack, brandishing my own. He curiously waits for me as I do so. I draw the blade out and he meets me head on.

It seems more about footing and maneuvering than power, which irritates me. The instincts tell me how to properly hold the weapon and swing it with intention, and what follows is a meeting of the warriors.

The blades rarely make a clang, but when they do, I feel the impact through my whole body. The fight has almost immediately lost all the fury that defined the entrance, and now I see this warrior in front of me, I must cut him down-

Wait-

A few early traded swings and retaliations, our early fight, now shifts. We are waiting, waiting for our moment. He must think I don't know the room, that's why he's waiting, but I hate to tell him, Tim helped me with that. Spacial awareness is easier when your head automatically feeds you proper distance.

I decide to be proactive, and he ducks back, and I see the heaviness of his breathing. If we were both normal, maybe this flatlined battle would end more satisfyingly, but the way this ends now will be with my kryptonian juices giving me an edge.

Eventually, he makes a sloppy move, and my strategy solidifies in my mind. I can get good enough to stall them out, just as a baseline, and that's not nothing. If I get better and better, that means I can take down anyone, right?

Well, in theory.

I successfully position myself to pick up my stick as he overextends himself, and a swift blow to the back of the neck has my competitor down. Normally I wouldn't recommend that, but these are fiction rules. As long as I'm not holding a weapon that looks outwardly lethal, I'm not gonna end up killing anyone unless I really want to. Or unless it's dramatic, I suppose. That's something to watch out for, a dramatic pigeonholing of a seemingly comic-relief character in a twist that changes the tone in which you remember them? Stranger things have happened. Stranger Things happened, RIP Samwise. Bob? What was his name?

I hear a rumbling, and after I check to see my guy is unconscious, I see a crotch-rocket pull out of the parking lot, followed by the batmobile.

Well. Great. I guess I don't actually need to assist Batman, he's Batman, and that's probably Mr. Hakeem he's after, so I guess fuck me, right?

I confirm the two others are still unconscious before I bow to my opponent without meaning to. It was a good fight, no doubts there. I bind him, and begin my search of the inner office. I figured Dick would call me when he was done, or whatever.

There was a computer monitor, and after a moment I found the PC itself and turned it on. I looked for a USB drive, and upon finding it, inserted a spammer, a hacking gadget for those like myself who weren't the most computer literate.

I turned on the monitor and after the boot was complete, the spammer did it's job and got me into the system. Once inside, I was dismayed to find everything was, of course, in Japanese. But that was when the characters began to shift, and I felt a little pin of pain that made me wince and screw my eyes shut. When I opened them, somehow I understood the meaning of everything, just as if I was reading it in english, but Japanese. I guess that's just reading something, I could have said that, but I think the difference in what I was seeing versus understanding was what was odd. I didn't know Japanese, but I knew it.

I decided that there was too much, and pulled out a special high-capacity hard-drive designed to copy large amounts of data quickly. The hook-up was simple, just right into the spammer, and the process began. That was when I heard my defeated opponent wake up.

He seemed dazed, but he was thoroughly restrained. I had an eyeline on what I was doing, but if I stood here, towards the large painting of some old man, he might not guess to what I'm doing with the computer.

He woke up, and I cleared my throat in a bit of cruelty on my part. He's bound up like a cocoon, and so with him facing the other way, he'll have to struggle to see me.

"" He muttered as soon as he managed to look at me, contorting himself wildly to try and see me.

"" I said, annoyed.

"" The man said. ""

"" I replied, hiding how shocked I was at the development of my new linguistic skills. ""

"" He said, and suddenly, I get nervous. I run over to the computer, the copy is complete, I pull it all out, and turn off the computer.

"" Hakeem asks, and I nonchalantly grab the katana out of the sheath at my belt as he asks.

Yes, I kept one. I want a katana, and I can totally justify this. I WANT it and it's cool and it's Hakeem's. I put mine back, his has this awesome inlaid gold symbol, and it's like, a really nice black wood for the handle and sheath- really beautiful. I feel guilty now, describing it, because it's obviously an heirloom.

Blades rip through the wrists and shins of Hakeem's suit, possibly a feature of the armor I didn't remove because I thought it was regular armor. He's torn through the tough cord in a moment, but I'm ready, round two is here.

I bandaged my arm, but it smarts. I think I can manage, even if the potency of the ability thing is going away. I just need to keep at it.

"" I say. ""

"" He asked, yelling angrily.

"" I joked, to no one. Jesus, an anime yakuza, how inspired, universe.

"" He shouted, and I tensed for battle when a staff smacked him on the back of the head.

"Oops, did I steal your thunder?" Asks a girl's voice, as Hakeem falls over forward. "Sorry."

The falling Hakeem reveals a young woman in a batsuit with blonde hair. She's brandishing her staff at me. "Drop the weapon, punk. I'm looking for a fight."

"Batgirl?" I ask.

Chapter Nineteen

I had heard about Barbara Gordon and Stephanie Brown in two ways. How Dick and Tim discussed the one they dated, and how they discussed the other. Tim seemed fond of Barbara, and well, you know. Dick seemed genuinely conflicted about Barbara and seemed to think that Stephanie was someone with a lot of potential. I had heard Delphi worked closely with Barbara as Oracle, but since no one had told me explicitly who they were, I decided that I'd let someone tell me themselves before I told them I knew who they were.

Blonde Batgirl, I assumed she was Stephanie Brown, but she didn't seem to know me.

"We have a mutual friend." I said, sheathing the sword at my hip.

"Who's that? Let's see those hands." She said, and I put my hands up. "Last time I checked I wasn't associated with any hunky lumberjack unions."

I stuck my fingers up by my head like Batman ears.

"Oh." She said. She put away the staff. "You're the new guy, right?"

"Contact." I said, and she looked behind herself quickly. After a picked second she looked back to me.

"Is that-?" She began.

"My name, yes." I said, and she guffawed, and I felt a little at ease.

"Oops." She said. "I'm Batgirl."

"Darn." I said. "The costume screamed Wonder Woman but I am new to this."

She giggled this time, and I felt great. This was the first superperson I hadn't alienated yet, and I needed at least one, seriously.

"Thank you for giving him a smack. Batman and I got separated, but as it turns out, he's the big baddie we're looking for. Are you back-up?" I asked, and BOY that was the wrong thing to say.

She takes a defiant stance and raises an eyebrow at me.

"Do I look like 'back-up'?" She asked, and I felt myself get hot in the cheeks in embarrassment.

"I don't know what to say." I said. Should I apologize? That didn't last long.

"OW!" She said, wincing and touching her ear. "FINE, I'll patch him in." Batgirl looked at me. "Turn on your radio to setting 6."

"Okay." I said. I did just that.

"Contact RESPOND." Came over the radio.

"Sorry, I'm here." I said. "My radio was set to two-way."

"What happened. Give me details of your mission with Batman." The voice was robotic and distorted. I got the feeling that even though my urge was to be unhelpful and petulant in the face of the terseness of the request and the quick souring of my nice moment with Batgirl, my fault, mind you, that I was the problem here.

"We were investigating the purchase of a building by the Hitaka-gumi in Gotham, specifically because it's within known Penguin operations territory." I said. "We disabled the two door guards and upon entering the building, Batman and I located two more roaming security guards. We then found out the depth of the reinforcement of the walls surrounding this office and determined a reasonable course of action to be flushing the remaining two operators out to force a confrontation. Batman engaged what seemed to be the bigger, more flashy of the two, and I engaged the other. I knocked him out and copied the hard-drive. He broke out of confinements when you arrived, after I copied the info, but before I could search the room thoroughly. Then you arrived and saved my bacon." I pointed to the ostentatious painting. "Just a guess, but that's probably hiding something, right? Big painting in a bad guy's office? Come on."

"Oh." Batgirl said. "I can see why you thought I was back-up." She looked around. "Where's Batman?"

"The other guy drove off in a motorcycle during my fight and Batman pursued him in the Batmobile. But he's Bob Hakeem." I said, pointing to the zonked man on the ground. "He's wearing some sort of armor with retractable blades, he cut out of cord-4, if you can believe it."

"Cord-4?" Batgirl said? It sounded like a question, but she continued "-the blades must be sharp", while looking out the window. "You sound like you've got this under control, so-"

"Bob Hakeem- You mean Ryu Nakahara? DRAGON Nakahara?" Oracle asked in my ear.

"Yeah, what's the big deal? Delphi didn't have any info on him." I said.

"Dragon Nakahara is a suspected affiliate of the League of Assassins." Oracle said.

"What?" I asked, flatly.

I looked at the dude in the torn lime-green suit. I had put tough handcuffs on him, but I had no doubt he'd break out after hearing he was the other sort of Leaguer here. I felt urgency.

"We need to search this place." I said. "I copied all the info on the computer but again-" I pointed at the painting. "Let's take that off the wall. Help?" I asked, and Batgirl looked at the painting with me and nodded. We took it off the wall and set it down gently. It was a nice painting. Behind it was a safe. I cursed.

"Are you good with safes?" I asked. "I'm bad with locks."

Stephanie puffed up a bit at that and walked up, removing an infil kit from her own belt.

"I got this." She said. "Nice sword by the way."

I got embarrassed.

"I can copy abilities." I said. "I picked up some sword tips from Mr. Hakeem, and he's made me use them. Let me search everything else."

As Batgirl picked the lock, I went over to the desk and cabinets and pulled out a document scanner and a micro-camera. The idea was to copy everything, but since I had recently begun taking a very intensive Japanese course, so I scanned headings for anything that looked particularly relevant while I began the process. In a lot of instances, it seems like having the best available technology is what actually happens with Batman gadgets, instead of the "create something out of my writer ass because wouldn't it help me get out of this peril?" which I dislike. There was this story about Batman being in the 30's I read once, and I think that does Batman gadgets the best. Was that fanfic? Probably, knowing me, but again, what is fanfic really with american comics characters-

Sorry, this is twenty minutes of me scanning documents. Batgirl opened the safe and found things for her to scan, alongside an amount of pills that seemed to be enough to get the cops here to detain the criminal.

Pictures are key, I'm told. Thorough documentation of what we do and our motives are the only reason evidence we gather is admissible in courts, a loophole used because often the evidence of supervillainy is so esoteric and involved, especially in cases of "a-hem" legitimate businessmen "a-hem" like Lex Luthor.

He SLAPPs you if you call him a supervillain, by the way, just to tell you. I'm kinda glad he's a huge asshole. I like Lex Luthor as a heroic character, but he's usually evil, and so I don't think I'd trust him anyway. Never met him, but I hang out with Supers, so it's likely a matter of time.

Stephanie Brown seems to be able to follow along, so I imagine she came by her linguistic skills honestly. After we manage to document everything, we put it all back, and call the police. I wear gloves here, if you were wondering, I think it goes unsaid, but I did take the sword with me. In my defense, I am stealing it, but it DID have my fingerprints on it. The other one did too, so I took both.

The arrival of the cops outside was a sign for one of us to greet them, and I gestured to Batgirl.

"You're up." I said, "None of them know me."

A few cars pull up.

Some handsome cops aren't generic good looking types, but not here. Everyone in the police is either in shape or woefully gross, which is pretty funny. I guess it's not easy to draw chubby, and maybe there's some big reason behind it, whatever. Regardless of cop stereotypes, up pulls a handsome plainclothes detective and what I can only assume is Harvey Bullock.

"Who's the newbie?" He asks, and I wave.

"Contact-" Comes over my earpiece, and I walk off.

"What's up?" I ask.

"You have a copy of the hard-drive and you beat Dragon Nakamura?" Oracle asked.

"Yeah?" I replied.

"I'm borrowing you. Return to base with Batgirl. I'll inform her when she's done with the police." Came the order, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Is that going to be okay with Batman?" I asked, and again, I immediately felt this was the wrong thing to ask.

"I'll MAKE it okay." Oracle said.

"Okay then." I said, as agreeably as I could make my voice.

After a moment, Batgirl walked over.

"What?" She said. "How, the ricochet- NO! That's awful. Send something else. We can wait. Yes we can, it'll take two minutes. Yes it is. Yes it is." A pause. "Thank you."

"Our ride will be here in a minute." Batgirl said. "Are you sure you're an amateur?"

"I definitely am." I said.

"But you're- you remind me of Batman, a little, I suppose." She said. "The one in Gotham now, I mean."

"Dickbats?" I joked, and she laughed, and I heard a grunt from my ear. "Sorry, not supposed to say that anymore.

"Come on." Batgirl said, leading me to a section of road, where our ride, my refurbished R-Cycle, the RC-Custom. I named it, and it's cool. Everyone knows adding "custom" makes it cool.

"My bike!" I said. I was about to sling my foot over it, but then I realized this was meant for the two of us. "Oh, you should probably drive." I said, getting off of the seat and gesturing to Batgirl.

"What?" She looked flustered. "Why?"

"I don't know how to get there." I replied, and she nodded intently.

"I see. Well, I suppose I can drive." She said, and slung a foot over. Now, I looked at her butt and suddenly became very conscious of how pretty she was. Maybe that was my Tim-ness coming out? Who knows. I decided to just think of cold things.

I laced my arms around her middle after we put helmets on, and she took off quickly, zipping through the streets at the same high speeds all the bats used.

"Keep the hands where I can see 'em, David Cop-a-feel." Batgirl quips, and I raise an eyebrow. Is she referencing Homestar Runner? Does that exist here?

I keep my hands to myself and just focus on holding on as she drives.

"Holy shit!" I couldn't help myself as we narrowly avoided something. Batgirl laughed, and I realized we were heading out of the city.

"Are we-?" I asked.

"Two for the Batcave!" Batgirl said, and zoomed into a tunnel I hadn't seen.

The tunnel was dimly lit, but we zipped down it at the same high speed we drove at. This was insanely nerve-wracking for me, but we managed, and soon enough, we were driving on a platform bridge that spanned a large cavernous open space. There was a metal door on the other side that opened, and we pulled into this subterranean elevator that pulled us up to the big open space of the Batcave.

We pulled up to the center platform and I saw there was a space next to this thing that looked like a cross between a bike and some sort of submarine.

"What is that?" I asked.

"The Ricochet, it's my ride." Batgirl said. "Yours is nice, but mine goes REALLY fast."

"That was fast enough for me." I said. "Is there really a giant penny here?"

"It's in storage." Came a voice from behind us, and I turned to see one of the most beautiful women I had ever laid eyes on. She had this vivid red hair that was stunning, even as it was shorn close to her head for what looked like practical reasons. She looked like she hadn't gotten any sleep, she had no make-up or anything on, if I wasn't having the reaction I was having, I would have sworn she looked pretty bad-

"Dick Grayson." I murmured. Of course. I felt a lot of things looking at Oracle, guilt, lust, shame, hope, friendship- Jesus, these two. I was feeling love for someone I didn't know because I had taken something and copied it. I felt at the swords at my belt and wondered if I was going to start being ruled by the base desires of other people too, that would SUCK.

"What'd you say?" Oracle asked.

"Dick Grayson." Batgirl said. "Why?" She looked at me accusatorially.

"I can copy powers, by touch, it's what I can do." I said. "Recently, I learned I can copy skills as well, but it seems other things can get passed along as well."

"How do you know that?" Oracle asked.

"I've copied some of Dick Grayson's skills, and it seems like I shouldn't feel like we have a complicated romantic past, should I? I wasn't aware those wires could get crossed." I said. I felt a little out of it after that revelation, so I produced the hard-drive. "I learned Japanese by accident earlier, so if you need any translation help-" I began, but Oracle snatched the hard-drive away and rolled off in her wheelchair towards the absolute colossal computer that took up a majority of the open space in the cave.

"Who else have you copied?" Batgirl asked.

"Tim, Dick, Bob Hakeem." I said. "It's pretty new. I don't know how it entirely works yet, just that it starts up when I want to copy something."

"How exactly does it work?" She asked. "If you don't mind."

"Well, I wanted to be like Dick, and that translated to a low-level competency in most of the actions required for this job, as far as I can see. I think a part of that includes body confidence. I guess I included something about his luck with women."

"Two superheroines?" Batgirl wondered aloud, and I laughed.

"Well, he gets to be with some of the smartest and bravest women to ever exist, right?" I said. "I dunno, I'm not the best with relationships and such, maybe it was more subconscious." I looked over to where Oracle was compiling information. She was wearing bluetooth headphones and furiously typing on a keyboard. "Should we help her?"

"She's got it." Batgirl said. "What happened the other times?"

"I copied Tim, trying to get his fighting abilities, but I think I got more of his head for strategy, it's unclear. I'm not even positive what I got with Hakeem, just that I got the ability to fend him off and understand Japanese."

"What if you get as specific as possible?" Batgirl asked.

"I don't know. What are you suggesting?" I asked.

"Lockpicking, right?" She asked. "I can do that better than you, by your admission, right?"

"Yeah." I replied.

"What if you try to touch me, and just copy that?" She asked. "What happens?"

"I don't know. I'm afraid to use them because I'm so unclear on the rules." I said. "I'm pretty timid, if you can believe it."

"Why don't you take a walk on the wild side?" She said, lowering her mask, and I felt like we were getting a bit too intimate for this moment of developing friendship.

"Wasn't-" I asked, trying to think of something. "Wasn't Tim supposed to be mending some fence with you all today?"

She looked off to the side in annoyance.

"He and I… I dunno." She said. I took off the Pill and met eyes with her, smiling.

"You two are good kids, you'll figure it out." I said, trying to be reassuring. "You know, for all the extra shit you all do, each of you is relatively normal. It's odd."

"What were you expecting?" Batgirl asks.

"I dunno, I guess I was expecting a bunch of weird gambits that were needlessly convoluted and everyone getting angry at each other." I said. "Big clashes of personality."

Batgirl shrugs. We've moved to a nearby table and are leaning on it. Oracle is absolutely crushing this data processing she's doing.

"Wait a few months. It's been slow ever since Bruce came back. He's genuinely trying to change, it's great." She smiled. "He certainly made me feel more welcome."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Tim and I worked together on this case and we almost smoothed everything over, but…" She shrugged. "He wanted the Cave for his new project, and asked if we'd move to our secondary, and Bruce just looked at him and said "it's hers and Oracles". That was the end of that."

"Am I missing something?" I asked. "You worked together? I thought this was a huge rift between the two of you, right?"

"It's more like, he and I don't know how to feel, but-" She smiled wanly. "I usually don't share this much with people I just met."

"I'm increasingly getting easier to talk to, I'm told." I said. "High five?"

She slapped me five, and our bare hands touched, and I tried out her experiment. The shock happened, and her eyes widened.

"Whoa." She said. "That's… a weird sensation."

"Can I borrow your car?" I asked, twirling around my infiltration tools and she looked at her hand and then to me.

"It's new, so you'll have to be careful." She said. "New-ish, anyway."

"No!" Shouted Oracle.

"Whoops, that's a no from O." Batgirl said.

"Good rhyme." Came a voice from my ear.

"Proxy?" Batgirl said. "Are you online?"

"I'm in the Firewall. I'm hearing from Delphi that you're with the new guy?" Proxy said. "Any prognosis on him?"

"I'm Stephen, by the way. Stephen Kent." I said, loudly. "You're all in the know, I'm sure, but I wanted to properly introduce myself."

"Well, I'm Stephanie." Batgirl said.

"Proxy." Came the voice. I wasn't sure who that was, actually. Another extra Oracle-type character?

"You've met Barbara, and that's WENDY, not Proxy." Stephanie said. "Did I ask you that question I wanted to, earlier?"

"What was it?" I asked. "I don't think so."

"What's with the heart?" She asked, eyebrow raised.

Last edited: Aug 26, 2021

Chapter Twenty

I wasn't stupid enough to not wear a helmet while riding my motorcycle, even if I was some sort of bulletproof, shit, bulletproof glass breaks if you hit it hard enough. My helmet is specifically made to interface with my mask, and I continue my suspicion that Tim wants to dress me like a helghast or something, because it's this odd design that looks like some variation of Star-Lord's mask.

I was driving, and I felt better than I had before behind the… wheel? You know what I mean, behind the wheel of the bike. The handlebars! I suspected that I had extracted at least of my desired knowledge from Steph, but we had been talking about driving, maybe I absorbed a few tricks before we were sent to different places.

The tall buildings of Gotham's downtown zoom past me, as I drive back to the docks. According to the information Oracle received from our data raid, as well as information from their "friend" who tipped them off to the investigation, there are three potential ways to advance our investigation.

Nakahara, in police custody, is being worked over by Batman and Commissioner Gordon, good cop bad bat, or whatever, and he's not talking. None of the subordinates are either, but regardless of their reluctance, we managed to get key information from the shipping office.

In town, there's another base of operations. It's smaller, but there's a good chance more of the puzzle will be revealed there. I was sent back to the docks, to monitor the offloading of supplies from a tanker shipping goods from the Rhelasian peninsula. "Rhelasia", being the DC comics version of Korea, which also exists, you heard that right, two different peninsulas, two different countries separated years ago by war, two different chubby dictatorships.

Regardless of that, there's a record of a specific container, with a specific number and label, on a manifest of incoming shipments. My job is to find and secure that shipment, and then see if there's anything THERE that links the LoA and this Yakuza group.

My plan is simple. There was a ton of security on the ground last time, and no one was looking up.

As I drove recklessly, the light in front of me turned red, and I smiled. As I approached the traffic line, I hit a button and I launched up like the Mach-5 with a loud hydraulic sound. I made the sound for it in my head, don't worry. Bwa-bwa-bwa.

My grin is ear-to-ear. Was I living before I could do things like this? My GPS tells me that I'm four blocks away, and I launch my recon drone, a third eye I can use in tandem with my Detective Vision, in lieu of a partner.

I waited one more block before my helmet offered me an option to retract, and I hit another button. My helmet popped open at the mouthpiece like a fighter pilot, and I used one hand to put it back in the little receptacle included on the bike.

Then, I hit the button labelled "autopilot" and "pre-launch".

A beeping sound went off in my ear, and I heard "5", the start of the process, and pulled myself up so I was standing on the seat of my bike.

"4" I zoomed closer, and my bike started shifting beneath me, the frame and machinery widened, and I sank about a foot down.

I hadn't actually done this before, but everyone else did this sort of thing all the time, this was a simple bat maneuver for sure.

"3, 2, 1" the countdown went, and my heart pumped, faster and faster, and then I was launched what seemed like a hundred feet into the air, grinning ear to ear as I delicately manipulated my body weight in loose somersaults before deploying my wings.

Objectively, I feel terrified, but my body just does the moves, and I can push aside that fear as I succeed in flying over the various buildings and stacks of cargo containers, before I see the destination I set-

A mobile crane that's in the middle of being repaired- a lucky break for me, because it stands higher than any structure in the shipyard.

There's a mistiness in the air that blocks conventional vision, but a simple double blink switches me to thermal.

People aren't crowding the place, there are a few workers and security guards to receive the package.

As I glided like a flying squirrel, I separated my legs from the nanomesh pseudo-batcape and landed lightly on my feet atop the crane's catwalk, before scaling the small control box for a driver to operate the crane, and prepare my surveillance. I finally admitted I needed the hand controls and copped the fingerless gloves config for my base suit, despite it seeming a little "I'm cool and hip". With the gloves and the sensors in my suit, I'm able to control the drone haptically like I'm holding a playstation controller.

The drone is the easiest way to keep an eye on everything, and I set it to circle around the ship Asperia, and settled down for my stakeout.

"Da da da." I hummed little melodies as I maintained line of sight on all the people in the shipyard. An hour had passed so far, and I was pretty bored. I know you have to pay attention, and I am, but it's mainly just recording anything that could be suspicious. I already photographed everyone there with the drone, which sort of freaked me out, it seems a little like over-policing, but that was what I was told to do, so I guess I'll leave the ethical concerns to Dick and Oracle.

I've given each worker a nickname, and I've been checking every number printed across the side of each container against the one from the manifest in Nakahara's safe.

This seems like a "fuck-off" task, but I resigned myself to being low man on the totem pole when I started to wear a costume, and Oracle told me to maintain radio silence, so if they only wanted me gone, eh. I needed to git gud at every aspect of this, and stakeouts were an important part of that.

I scanned the shipyard with the Pill's inbuilt binocs, and I was suddenly shocked into full attention to the situation.

Fatty, Acne-scar, and FUPA were all missing. Sorry, that's unhelpful, those are each workers. They weren't explicitly working on anything related to the Asperia, but I was keeping an eye on everyone.

I pivoted to the drone feed, switching control to manual, and piloting around the outskirts.

The feed suddenly went dead, and I immediately shot to my feet.

I was about to turn on my radio feed when I felt a thump against my head and I fell off the side of the crane.

Unfortunately for my unseen assailant, I wasn't nearly so easily KO'd, and I had Dick-juice coursing through my veins. I quickly drew my grapple and connected it to a metal prong in the framework, before swinging down into a roll atop the nearest stack of cargo containers.

I turned to see someone in a ninja outfit jumping down straight at me, and I dove out of the way, half-cartwheeling myself away from them.

They landed, and I could barely hear them do so. I tensed, they were either a meta or a real pro, because they just jumped like, fifty feet.

"Hello there." I said, as my body settled into a loose fighting stance. They rushed at me, and flew into a series of jabs and kicks, seemingly testing me. I parried what I could, but there was a severe difference in agility between the two of us.

For every blow I was able to block, I felt three more make contact with my torso, or legs- but not my face. They hurt, but I wasn't exactly taking damage.

Eventually, I got a word in edgewise, and a straight punch to the ninja's abdomen made them separate and gave me some room to breathe. My mind was running at a million miles a second, and so I decided to run, jumping down to ground level and taking off in a sprint.

Unlike the maze of storage buildings, the offload area near the ships was covered in shipping containers, equally difficult to navigate, but my only option.

It isn't an effective move, as I weave through the maze of large metal boxes, the ninja is at my every turn, but that's not my real goal. I deployed the back-up drone in my bike, which self-parked a ways away, and prepared a plan.

In my belt, I have a load out of 19 heartbreakers (subtract the one I used earlier), a bunch of tools for breaking into places and gathering information, some plastique, a taser, my multipurpose stick weapon (x2), and a katana with no crossguard that kind of passes as a wooden one.

I wish I had more pockets, but it isn't the case. I'm stalling for time.

"Any more dance partners I need to meet?" I call over my shoulder, thanking God I can keep at this pace for as long as I can. I need to reconnect with Connor. "Or is this a menage a… du?"

Dr. McNinja cuts me off, and pulls out a pair of sai. Uh, that's badass.

"You are not the Bat." The voice sounds feminine.

"Oh? How'd you figure that out?" I reply, and throw four heartbreakers, two from each hand, aimed to hit the chick somewhere that'll daze her.

She spins around in a weird pirouette, and a few metal clinks, followed by three of the heartbreakers dropping to the ground, repelled by the sai, I suppose, it was a blur.

The last one is held in between the big toe and her other ones- she's got on the classic ninja sock, and I laughed. I'm fighting gahtdamn Raiden, I'm really jazzed up.

"That's pretty cool." I called out to her. "So is this!" I only had five heartbreakers with a disorienting flashbang payload, but I didn't need to worry about being flashbanged. Thanks for that, Tim.

The explosives go off, and the warrior seems disoriented enough for me to rush them. I bounded up to her and started throwing heavy punches.

One catches her in the jaw, but as soon as that happens, and they stagger backwards, I stop being able to hit them to my own frustration. Even blind and deafened, the ninja seems to be more than capable of holding me off, but that's about what I expected. I'm not really trying to beat them-

I shot a line to the nearest high place. As I zipped up into the air and accelerated, I knew where I was headed, the shipping container the ninja was so desperate to keep me from, the drone had located it. I detonated the other three flash heartbreakers- flashbreakers? Heartflashes? We'll come back to it, my action hopefully prolonging the disorientation long enough for me to keep a bit ahead of the opponent.

I overshot, using the function meant to launch me into the air for a glide like in Arkham City and pushed up and over the ledge I had attached to before I deployed my wings once more.

As I flew through the shipyard, I saw my drone's flashing indicator light, and sent it away. Recon from a distance would be a better served purpose, those are pretty damn expensive and I've already broken one.

Upon getting to the container, I see an unfortunate series of locks, and quickly get to work, ignoring any subtlety, cutting what I can with a set of clips made to be modified by attaching my sticks and deploying longer blades to make bolt cutters.

God, I love these gadgets.

The last lock broke about forty seconds into the attempt, and I opened the door to expose the contents, ready with the camera function on the Pill.

I wasn't ready for the interior. It was full of different sorts of pills, drugs, all in odd assortments gathered up in clear trash bags or stacked on pallets, plus a bunch of different tools and guns that all looked like they belonged in a sci-fi pulp prop room were attached on every surface, held in place by little rungs- an armory, except with silly guns.

But there was also one more thing I wasn't expecting. An asian girl, maybe a bit younger than myself, or, I dunno, however old, was passed out on the ground, tied up thoroughly. I ran up to her, and the pill fed me information on the various weapons- a wand from Abra Kadabra, a gun from Heatwave-

This was a depository of equipment for supervillains. Drugs and weapons, seemingly a match made in heaven for the Yakuza.

I shook the girl and cut her bindings.

"Step away." Came a voice from behind me. I turned.

The ninja was standing there, and I grinned again.

"Or what?" I asked. I snatched a gun off the wall, and shot it in her direction. A wave of squares blasted out and the ninja disappeared as a big 'VOIP' rang out when the blast hit the shipping container across the walkway. I looked for something I could use, or, barring that, something I wanted, and saw it almost instantly. The elongated icicle shaped barrel-

Leonard Snart's pride and joy, a cold gun, the best ice weapon that was. I suppressed an evil laugh. Blasting the entrance with ice would trap me, but also keep the ninja out, for maybe just a second, but that would be enough time to get this girl up.

I froze over the entrance and grabbed smelling salts from my belt. Popping them and waving them under the nose of the girl had the desired effect, the heavy smell of ammonia made her sputter and choke awake.

"Hey there." I said, my hands on her shoulders. "I need you to stay calm. I'm a partner of Batman, and there's someone outside trying to get you."A sword blade punctured the roof of the container. "Speak of the devil." I said.

The girl looked dazed, but nodded.

"I'm going need you to break that ice, when I get far enough away." I said, handing her a payload of breaching explosives and a detonator. "I'll distract the ninja, and you get out of here. Put that-" I pointed to the disc. "On the ice, symbol facing you, and then get to the other side of the container and flip that switch to arm it, and again to blow. Wait until you can't hear our fight."

I didn't wait for her to respond, I turned to the sword just in time for a hole to be made, and as soon as I saw the night sky, I shot my grapple up through the hole and at the ninja's head.

The ninja dodged, and as it connected to something and pulled me through the hole, I cursed because I had left my new cold acquisition next to the girl.

"I don't seem to need Batman!" I taunted as I flew up. Her response was to throw a shuriken through my line and I floundered for a moment before making a hard landing on the ground. I was surprisingly okay, and then I realized-

I was bulletproof. I slammed a fist on the ground.

"You have fought well." The ninja said. "I will reveal your opponent." She took off her mask, and she looked… she didn't look familiar. A pretty asian woman, older, maybe in her forties, that was it. For some reason a pit in my stomach formed.

"Ah, didn't we go to college together?" I joked. "Chem 202?"

"I am Lady Shiva, boy." She said, and my face fell. "Prepare for death."

Last edited: Aug 26, 2021

Chapter Twenty-One

"What's that?!" I shouted in terror, pointing behind her. She miraculously, against every odd, turned to look, and I fucking bolted away at top speed. If you think I wasn't supremely worried about fighting the only fighter who regularly stomped… everyone, you'd be goddamn CRAZY. I tried to contact someone over radio, but all I heard was static on each channel.

I was being jammed, on setting 8, there was always a message broadcasting on loop, a foolproof way to see if you were dealing with radio interference- but after I checked, I could still pilot the drone. I was trapped within a silent radio bubble covering the shipyard, and with the way I was running through this stupid maze of containers, I was feeling more and more like a trapped rat.

Shiva, I assumed, was alone. I hadn't run into any other ninja, and why would they need any more? It's Lady Shiva. I knew her backstory, how she trained with Richard Dragon and such, blah blah, she's bad news. She's beaten every fighter in the DCU at least once, and she's a deadly A-List baddie, against me? A guy who uses fighting techniques he twinked from others, I like her odds.

"You had impressed me somewhat." Came her voice, everywhere and nowhere at once. I stopped running as she spoke, hoping I had put enough distance for the girl to get moving on her escape.

"Is that so?" I breathily replied, drawing my blade from off my back. It seemed like it was my time, again, to die for someone else. I swallowed deeply, and steeled my resolve. There weren't any Kryptonians here to save my bacon this time.

"Running away is cowardly." Shiva said, and I chuckled.

"From you?" I asked, scanning around me to catch a glimpse of the woman. "Pretty sure human life prioritizes self-preservation."

"To go beyond the fear of the animal and to face death as a man is noble." She taunted.

"Said the assassin." I replied, haughtily. "Nobility… does that come before or after the murdering and disemboweling? Or is it before the attempted genocides?"

A laugh, harsh but melodic, rang out.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"No one of consequence." I replied.

"I learn the names of those I kill. I remember the face, and honor them with quick deaths." I can't see her, where the hell IS SHE?

"So if I never tell you my name, then you've got to keep me alive?" I quipped, and another laugh.

"No." She flew into me, knee outstretched, and hit me in the nose. I crumpled and fell away, knocked back several feet into the side of a container. I pushed myself to my feet and wiped away the blood that had started to drip down my face.

"Nobody makes me bleed my own blood!" I shouted, and raised up the sword like an amateur, on purpose.

I saw her prepare for an easy disarm, but I altered my grip and swung lethally, just to see what would happen, if I could juke her at all, and she wasn't even there when I brought down the sword.

A blur of movement to my side was enough warning for me to avoid losing an arm, but not enough to avoid a huge cut down my side, not bleeding much, shallow, but painful and long.

I threw an elbow with my sword arm, and she moved, before I swung up a hand to try and touch her skin. That was my only endgame scenario, if I wanted to survive, I needed to not die long enough to take something I could use from her.

She stepped out of my reach as I tried, blow after blow, whiffing, to hit her, to do something.

She slammed a fist into me like Ip-Man, rapid blows to my head and torso, and then roundhoused me away from her.

I had more blood on my face, and I was cut. I was quickly burning through my own options, but I was desperate.

"Not a-" I coughed up a little blood and spat. "Not a fan of these movie quotes, huh?" I chuckled as I shakily stood up.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Any way I could get a handicap, you know, for a beginner?" I asked, half hoping she'd say yes, and she smiled.

"For a name? I could be convinced." She said. She reminded me of a shark.

"I can give you two." I said, preparing to play my only card aside from copying her, a psychic attack of my own creation. "Mine is Contact."

She threw her weapons to the ground, all of them, even the hidden shit, until she was standing across from me in a tight Black bodysuit having adopted a new stance. I sheathed my sword and tossed it aside. She smiled and her eyes widened. I drew a stick, and extended it to three feet.

"The other?" She asked.

"That comes later." I said, affecting a false cockiness. "If you manage to actually beat me, I'm sure it'll come up."

She didn't rise to that bait, but I was already pushing it, and she had been more than accommodating to my dumb antics. She didn't move right away, and I realized she was waiting for me to start.

I briefly wondered how long I could put off getting killed by not attacking, and then the girl's face flashed in my mind. I grinned and spat one more time.

"Come on!" I shouted, and dashed, throwing heartbreakers and swinging my stick at her head. She ducked, and put her hands on the ground, pushing into a donkey kick that I blocked by stick, the force was enough that I knew I'd need two hands, and she used fancy handwork to swing her legs around like a top and I got kicked three times in a row.

It made me violently angry, for some reason. I tried every play I could think of to try and touch her exposed face, but to no avail. I was quickly getting more damage, and she was hitting places I was already injured on purpose, which I guess is fair play, but it hurt quite a bit. It felt like bad sport.

I was able to fend her off somewhat, but she was clearly more skilled, and had every reason to avoid me touching her skin, even though I was sure I wasn't tipping my hand to my true goal.

"You know-" I said, holding up a hand for a moment, which she graciously honored. "I was thinking this would be over faster."

"Indeed." Shiva said, her smile was still there, and I guessed I was like the spider she was pulling the legs off of, her plaything.

"Can I ask you a serious question?" I asked, and she tilted her head in surprise like a labradoodle. It was almost cute.

"I suppose." She said, sniffing indignantly. Time for my last card, fucking with her head.

"When you found your sister dead, Sandra-" I began, yes her name is Snadra, and her smile was instantly gone, her mirth, possibly even her mercy too. "-did you feel anything? Were you happy?"

It worked. She wasn't prepared for some random idiot to know her backstory. Does anyone? She rushed me and wrapped herself around my torso, and I felt the life begin to choke out of me- I began to lose consciousness almost immediately, and started tapping around, trying to find her face-

I want to fight like her, tap. I want to fight like her, tap. I want to-

Static arced through me, and I felt a rush, before pulling out my taser and zapping her in the leg.

She convulsed and I slammed my arm into her limbs, she let go and I jumped to my feet. I tried very hard to pull out a can of whoop-ass, but I immediately got the sense that I hadn't copied any proper fighting techniques.

Like when I had copied Tim, the world looked different. Instead of numbers, though-

Electricity didn't keep Shiva down long, she stood up, and started working her body to overcome the feeling.

"Sorry." I said, I felt guilty, I knew she went after Ra's Al Ghul in retaliation for that murder. "That was a real desperation play, you don't deserve that sort of rudeness, you've been very kind to me." She bounded forward, anger contorting her face. She swung and I grabbed her wrist and threw her across the battlefield. She looked shocked, and I felt no pride at the move, she's obviously distracted.

I could see it, read the way her muscles were tensing, predict. She was going to kill me in three moves, jump to wall, roll, heel to nose, an upward blow that would definitely end my abortive attempt at heroism, but the game had changed.

As she did exactly that, I weaved around her.

"Sorry." I apologized. I threw my last flashbang heartbreaker at her and detonated it mid-air. She was ready though, and had closed her eyes. I understood her somewhat better, she saw my every move, just like I saw hers. "You've lost."

Even though I knew I had beaten her, I couldn't keep up with her, and I wasn't any better with my hands despite the addition of this… body reading, but I wasn't trying to win, I was only buying time. The stalemate needed to continue, just like when Data played Strategema, I didn't need to win, because it was getting more and more likely that Shiva would lose due to my plan.

She rushed forward and I threw my stick in her direction. She avoided it, but it hit a wall and curved itself after two rebounds back to my hand. I saw how to throw it, I could guess at the geometry and the path thanks to the connection of my Tim-mind and my Shiva-mind, and I was Neo, beginning to believe for a moment, right before Shiva she plucked the stick out of the air on the return without looking.

I felt myself smile one last time. I felt good, she was a goddess of fighting, there was no way for me to eke out a win. If I was going to die, this was pretty good.

I had made her angry, I had given her a run for her money, and I had saved, wait…

Wait, what if that girl didn't understand English? Oh shit, no-

Shiva's stick came down and I, in one smooth motion, brought out another and swung it up to meet hers. Always bring two, kids. I was suddenly desperate to see the container, to make sure I had done it, had saved the girl, but I had done what I intended to, too well for any hope of escape.

She beat me, up and down and over again, and all I could do was hope, pray, that I could stall her out.

Then I remembered.

" If you ever need someone with an 'S' on their chest." Echoed through my brain, as Shiva disarmed me and wrapped her hands around my throat. Suddenly, shouting as loud as I could was an unrealistic goal.

I choked, desperately pawing at her grip, but she was much, much stronger than I'd expect a 5'6" woman to be. I couldn't help smiling though, even as I was wracked with pain.

"I-" I gurgled. "-win."

"You've done nothing, boy." She said, venomously.

I felt myself fade away, until a flash of light, and suddenly, Shiva's shoulder was covered in ice. Shiva looked up in shock, loosening her grip enough for me to get a breath and to see the girl, the one from the container, holding the cold gun.

"No!" Shiva said, commanding the girl. "Drop-"

The tip of the gun glowed, and the girl pressed the trigger. Over and over, more patches of ice appeared on Shiva's body, and Shiva jumped off me and to her captive, but the girl's trigger finger was apparently itchy.

Shiva staggered forward, but she was iced. The girl turned a dial, and the continuous blast shot out and covered Shiva's front.

I coughed on the ground, and after I took a needed moment to regain some feeling in my extremities and reshape my windpipe, I staggered to my feet and stretched.

"You okay?" I called over to the girl. She nodded. "You could've just gone, you know." I said, smiling. Thank god she spoke english."I'm glad you didn't, but-"

"I am also-" the girl began, "a partner of Batman." She handed me my sword and the gun.

"Wha- you are?" I asked, incredulous. "What's the password?"

"Jingle bells, Batman smells." The girl said.

"No, it's 'Robin laid an egg' now." I supplied. "Who are you?"

"Cassandra." She said. "My mother captured me as I was investigating this shipment. I have been under her control for 43 days. She drugged and tortured me."

I took that in, nodding slowly. She was Cassandra Cain, and she had just dealt with a ton of shit.

"You wanna blow up her shit and get out of here? I don't think she's going to successfully be contained by the GCPD anyway, I mean, we could try, but-" I signalled for my bike, thankfully within the radio bubble. I recalled the drone as well, and used my suit controls to cover my long torso wound with nanomesh. "We both could probably use a doctor."

"She will escape." Cassandra said. She looked genuinely hateful in that moment, which was odd because her face hadn't changed. I supposed I had just read her body language, wasn't that Shiva's big thing? That's a cool addition to the arsenal, for sure.

"Whoa." I said, looking at my hands. I waved them around, and there was a different significance to the motion than before. "I may be on drugs."

"Possibly." Cassandra said. "I have been under the influence of Shiva's narcotic poisons for weeks. Her blades were coated in them."

"I'm not too worried about it." I said. "If you're okay, I'm sort of part-kryptonian, so I doubt I'll be too sick." The RC Custom pulled up and my second drone dropped into it. "Our ride, Miss Cassandra."

"You are… happy?" She asked, and I nodded.

"You made it." I said, honestly relieved and probably delirious. "That was what I cared about."

"Thank you." She replied. "By the time the GCPD arrives, there will be no evidence remaining. They buy their immunity and silence." A pause. "I would like to blow up my mother's things."

We drove the bike through the lot, and got back to the container, already pretty goofed from the fight and the ice and Cassandra escaping. I tossed in my supply of plastique, the rest of it, anyway.

"Anything we should take? I got photos of it earlier." I asked, and Cassandra thought before running in and bringing out an attaché case.

"Let us go." She said, and I handed her my extra helmet and deployed my own. As soon as we had on our helmets, I pulled away and detonated the small yield explosives, totally ruining the supply of drugs and weapons.

"Oops." I said, and we peeled out into the night. Cassandra's arms were around my stomach, and I felt pretty damn heroic as we drove through Gotham.

" Contact, respond." Buzzed over the radio.

"Heyo, Contact here." I said into the radio. "Cassandra and I need a doctor, anyone nearby?"

The voice paused.

" Head to the Thompkins Clinic. I'll notify them." I didn't immediately recognize the garbled voice, and so I assumed it was Wendy, or Proxy, rather.

"Also, send the GCPD to the shipyard, if they're lucky, they'll see a Lady Shiva-flavored ice cube." I said, grinning.

" What? Shiva? Hold on-" I cut out the radio, and adjusted my direction to the clinic.

"You should not have hung up." Cassandra murmured from behind me, our helmets seemed to have some sort of two-way communication in them, and I shrugged.

"They'll be fine, Batman's on the case." I said, and as we drove, I felt like a hero for the first time since I had started working in Gotham, how I saved the hostage, sort of beat Shiva, and lived to tell the tale. I was definitely on drugs, but I had turned the autopilot on immediately.

I had won.

Last edited: Sep 9, 2020

SUPPLEMENTAL (Contact's Observations)

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Jackson17 said:

Great Chapter!!! Will Contact have some of Shiva's skills now?

Click to expand…

Click to shrink…

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So, in regards to powers, I have done two things foolishly and now I'm too committed to them to change. One is that I've designed Contact's powers to have a feature that plays off of a weakness of my own creativity, that being that I don't improvise outside of systems well. If you give me four tools with which to complete a task, I'll think up a million ways to use those tools effectively, but I'll never think to try and find a fifth tool, if that makes sense. Contact, as a person, has to go against that weakness to define his abilities, and I've put at several points how fine he is with general ignorance, because he's afraid of the implications of his powers, or whatever. I like that, but I can understand that if you DON'T have that weakness, it can be frustrating to read, sorry, that's gonna keep happening, until he faces his problems. The second thing I've done is plan a future story arc around the lack of proactivity that Contact has exhibited, and I want to write that story because:

A. I think it'll be good, and a fun read if I manage to do it right, and B. the amount of research I've done for it is really messing with my sunk-cost fallacy.

In regards to y'all guessing the nature of his powers, there are some good guesses, and I'm not necessarily trying to break ground because if I want to engage with fanfic tropes, now's the time to do so. I don't care if someone guesses right, I actually like it a lot, it means I'm successfully foreshadowing the tone and plot to the point where someone can go "oh, I know the character, and I think this is what he'll do". Very gratifying. However, there's a difference between a good guess being right revealed through the story, and me confirming a good guess to be right before I've posted the actual story. In one instance, you feel gratified, I imagine, for successfully paying attention and investing, and in another, you potentially get less content, if I change it or do something else (I rewrote chapter twenty from scratch three times). Since I do change things up until the last minute, I don't want to be married to something I've assured someone will happen, because that's a surefire way to make me NOT want to do it, and I don't want to be contrarian or subvert expectations for no reason other than general spite.

THAT BEING SAID- I imagine it's been sort of confusing for those outside my head what Contact's powers are, so I'll make a brief little reference point for what he currently has, and what he's exhibited- sort of a Contact's guide to himself, and I'll threadmark it, and even write up a little in-character journal entry because I can't think of a way outside of using Mxyzptlk or Bat-Mite to explicitly tell Contact the full scope of his abilities due to the current explanation I have for those powers, but y'all should have a point of reference.

Observations

Bruce told me to write in a journal, and to keep it so we'd have records of my thoughts in case I was mind-wiped, or some crazy comic book bullshit. Dick insists that I also write down my powers, and I thought "hey, there's two things I'm less than enthused about I could do at the same time". I dunno, maybe I just don't trust that no one in a base full of detectives will be able to resist the allure of a journal full of personal secrets. I know ever since I learned how to not make sound when I walk, I've been sort of curious of the others. What an ugly confession, I suppose if I get people looking at me weird, I'll have another reason to be suspicious of them , lol.

The main power I found was this ability to copy. I mainly seem to be concerned with "powers", that's a broad descriptive word there, because I can't think of a reason why I could copy the things Cyborg could do, and the things Superboy could do. One's completely biological, the other is due to implanted machinery. So, as general as possible, I COPY POWERS.

Now, aside from that, I seem to be able to absorb the "essence"?Don't use pen next time. I call it a zenkai, because when a saiyan almost dies, they get a power boost called a zenkai, and I seem to have a sort of equivalent, where I absorb some of the traits of the powers that I use if I am able to survive a near-death blow. Currently, it's only happened once, with some possible maybe-zenkais when I don't have powers. I got some Kryptonian traits from Superboy, and I've almost died running dry a few times, right before I exhibited a new power. Possible secondary ability, unconfirmed-

I seem to be able to copy other things from nonpowered folk, from Dick Grayson, a yakuza guy, and Stephanie Brown, I copied skills, like fighting, or japanese, not specified knowledge I could grab at a whim, but more like a hidden talent for that thing if I were to try it. I don't even know when I'm speaking other languages, or when someone else speaks another language to me, if I copy them, it just hits my ear as english. They've each been very helpful, and I think that if I keep training, I can turn those hidden talents into actual skills-

The other thing I've been able to copy- I call them HUMAN POWERS. If someone has special ability as a human, but not an explicit power, instead of adopting what they know, it's rather I gain a version of that ability. For instance, when I copied Tim Drake, I did receive some Bo Staff proficiency, but mainly I copied his ability to perceive things as he does. His analytical mind feeds him instant calculations of distance and information, almost like Sherlock's stupid floating word bullshit. I'm not suddenly a master-detective, it's mainly an innate reaction, and I'm not informed enough to have all of his technical knowledge, but now I can sort of estimate distance with efficiency and accuracy, and I have more precise aim, I notice things easier. I copy the power, but none of the memories, or proficiency, or years of experience, but hey, when I'm like, thirty, I'm sure I'll be way better at it.

If I were to rank these powers from Broken to least Broken, I'd say… Human Power copying, Skill Copying, Power Copying, Zenkai. If I can find more people who have these extrahuman human abilites, I'll become more and more like, the perfect ideal human. If only Taskmaster existed here, and his powers weren't ultimately an awful burden on the human mind that removed all things but fighting.

Now to ignore this journal for a while…

Last edited: Sep 9, 2020

Interlude: On the farm

Kara's window was usually unlocked. Her room had a window on the top corner of the house, and had used it a few days ago to show Stephen how to fly. It was nice, having a secluded entrance to the farmhouse. It made entering and exiting privately easier than it maybe should have been, but Kara didn't complain. She definitely needed to get out without floating past windows, if only sometimes. It helped.

She had been scheduled for a few days with the Amazons before the events of the week had begun, and saw no reason to cancel them when it came time to depart the day after the flying debacle. The exercises, the training, it was good to lose oneself in the simplicity of the physical.

Kara felt well-liked and respected amongst the Amazons, but was also kept at arm's length. There was always something to keep her at arm's length.

The Amazons were all willing to take her deeper into the fold, but she couldn't in good conscience agree to all of the things being one of the Amazons meant.

She felt the same way in the Kent home. Kara hadn't accepted the last name of her Earth "family" and wasn't sure she ever would. They weren't her family. The memories of her mother and father were deep and fresh and any kindness given to her by Clark's adoptive parents, it wouldn't be right to accept it.

She couldn't accept it. That they were so kind and open didn't help. It would've helped if they had been some sort of cruel taskmasters, or abusive, but they were some of the kindest people she had met on either of the worlds she had lived on.

She flew down from on high to the unlocked window, and the background anxiety that defined her time amongst the Kents returned, the constant fear that she'd do the wrong thing and be shunned, or violate some Earth custom. She felt so conflicted, because while she was so accepted, so freely loved, so much so it was impossible not to bond with Ma and Pa, she felt like she could still at any time lose their acceptance, or that her feeling of a bond was betrayal to her actual family members. She wasn't stupid though, she needed someone who cared, someone who wasn't Clark, or the Amazons with their baggage. She had enough to carry on her own.

Batman was out, that was for damn sure.

No, the Kents were every option she had. She finished her descent and opened the window when she noticed that the newest temporary addition to the house, the interdimensional traveler Stephen, was standing alone out at the edge of the lawn.

They had more or less made peace after their rocky first impression, and had developed a cordial respect for one another.

He was a larger man, heavyset and given to frowning in confusion. It was funny to watch him struggle with cultural references Connor had long since given up using around her. He got more than half of Connor's classic movie references, which delighted Connor, but what would delight him more was when one would slip by as Stephen stared and frowned before admitting he didn't understand.

With Kara, that sort of thing would frustrate Connor, who was a good friend, but a bit moody and prone to dickishness on occasion. Communication being clear between him and the person he was interacting with was important to the cloned boy, and it made sense he'd gravitate to someone similar to his own age and with at least some of the same shared cultural references.

Kara, on a whim, decided to talk to the man standing out alone, and floated over.

"What are you doing out here?" Kara asked, and Stephen, who had been perfectly ignorant of her approach, jumped.

"Oh, uh." He scratched his head, upon turning to her. "That's west, and I was hoping to catch Connor, you know, flying in."

"That's Northeast." Kara corrected.

"Huh, the spirits must be overpowering my sense of direction." Stephen said, looking sheepish.

"Spirits?" Kara asked, confused. If this was an Earth idiom she didn't know it.

"I've been here almost a week now, but…" Stephen began. "This world, this Earth, who's to say that there isn't a version of my family here? Remember we spoke about that? I haven't really been able to shake it from my head."

"Wait, go back. What did you mean when you said that spirit thing?" Kara wondered, stuck on the way the word was used.

Then what he said hit her. Stephen, the new outsider, was just as trapped here on the farm as she was. Of course he wanted to leave too.

Kara felt for a moment like she could do something good. The Kent home wasn't just a place she could leave, and he could. If he wanted to go, she couldn't blame him.

It bothered her a slight amount, but the feeling didn't last long enough to register.

"I meant the spirits, like, the afterlife, guiding my way." Stephen said. "Serendipity through my own miserable lack of direction.

"You want to leave?" She asked, and he frowned at her.

"No, I don't want to leave, but I'm broke and being a burden is something my family is more prepared to deal with." He joked.

"Why do you want Connor?" She asked, sitting in the grass near him. The frown was replaced with him wincing exaggeratedly. He was very expressive.

"Batman said not to leave, and I'm definitely proposing a departure." Stephen said, cautiously looking around.

"Connor's off to the Titans Tower for a few days." She said, and Stephen visibly deflated.

"Damn." He muttered. He had been shifting his weight on either foot, but with the news, began to pace on the edge of the tall grass. He walked back and forth before settling down next to her. "I had just built up a head of steam too."

"Well, why don't we go?" Kara said."What's the worst thing that could happen?"

Stephen obviously hadn't been expecting this, it showed on his face very clearly.

"Really? Do you want me to list a few ideas I've been working through?" He replied, but made no move to actually try and use his abilities to copy her.

"What's holding you back?" She asked.

"Besides Batman?" Stephen joked. "I don't know. I just think about things like "what if there's two of me? What if they don't exist?', stuff like that."

"None of those seem like reasons to not try." Kara admonished. "If I had a chance to go home, I would take it."

"Home." Stephen scoffed. "I have yet to be convinced that anyone would universally accept someone who had a fantastical story with open arms."

Kara suspiciously coughed and it suspiciously sounded like she said "Kents" which made Stephen smile.

"You don't know MY family. Some people aren't the paragons of American virtues that these humble farmers are."

Kara stood up and held out a hand to help up the larger man. She hoisted him to his feet, and after he stood, Stephen experimentally floated a few inches off the ground.

"Let's go and see this through. The flight's only going to take a little while, and you know your way around where you're from, right?" Kara asked.

Stephen shrugged and shook his hand noncommittally.

"Well, my phone has fancy maps." She said, and she touched his exposed forearm.

"Are you sure?" Stephen asked. "I seriously appreciate the help, but-"

"But nothing. I'll help you, what'll it take? 2% of my phone battery? You're already copying me." Kara replied, with a finality that silenced the fellow otherworlder from protesting further.

He was in a plaid shirt and loose old pants, and once he had determined he wouldn't get "too cold" in his clothes, plugged in an address to the specially purposed flight navigator the League had begun providing and the duo was off.

They flew for maybe twenty minutes at a speed that Stephen seemed to relish. They flew until he recognized something and dropped.

"That's- that's Portland!" He cried, and Kara grabbed his shoulder.

"We gotta be careful." She said. "Flying people still make the news."

"Sorry." He apologized. "There's, that's Deering Oaks-" He sped off, now watching for people, and Kara followed, scanning around to do the same.

The park was empty, it was getting late, and Stephen touched down next to a playground.

"Do you know this place?" Kara asked, and Stephen nodded for a moment, but then hung his head.

"I think so, but I'm not… sure, anymore. I guess." He said. "It feels right. I feel like I remember playing here as a kid." He walked over to a slide. "It seems right, but now I'm realizing I never committed it properly to memory.

"Are we near your home?" Kara asked, and Stephen smiled.

"It'll be a little while longer still." He said. "I can guide us from here."

The two hadn't really spoken on the way over, the speed they went made it unreasonable to maintain, but when they flew away from the park, that was no longer an issue. Still, Stephen didn't say much as they flew over the state he had called home in the other world. Kara felt like he was avoiding speaking. Maybe it was nerves, or just that he disliked her, but he wasn't interested in conversing for a while as they flew.

"Would you go back?" Stephen asked, breaking the silence. They were floating over a forested section of some river, and he stopped after he asked the question.

"To where?" She replied, but she knew.

"Krypton. Wherever specifically you came from."

"Yes." She said, immediately. "Yes, I would."

"You seem certain." He said. "I wish I shared that certainty."

"Why don't you?" Kara asked.

"Because… I wasn't really DOING anything too important." Stephen admitted. "I was just coasting, trying to find a niche for myself where I was. I don't know if appearing here makes me important, but it feels important. Like I was finally chosen for something, and maybe if I go back, that thing that makes me special will go away."

"I wouldn't be Supergirl on Krypton." Kara said. "Just myself."

"Maybe you were happy, then." Stephen suggested. "Satisfied. You had something to lose."

"You didn't? Everything here is different, no one knows you, and you're alone. How haven't you lost everything?" Her voice had raised without her meaning too.

"Kara, I-"

"You have a chance to go back and at least attempt a normal life, something besides fighting monsters and evil people, and you could take it, and keep it, and have this new thing as well, you can have EVERYTHING." She said, "You can have a family and be this new special thing, SOMEONE should get to."

After she said it, she wished she hadn't. It felt too much like telling Stephen exactly what she had been thinking about, the topic that dominated her thoughts, without meaning too, and she hated it. She hated him, in that moment, for waffling around when he could have everything she wanted, and as he floated across from her and frowned in confusion, looking at her and trying to understand, she could see the cogs turning around in his mind.

"We should keep moving." He said. "We're almost there."

Kara blinked back hot tears as he flew away, and the hatred for her companion evaporated and was replaced with self-loathing.

She flew after him cursing herself for the momentary loss of control, and Stephen, mercifully, didn't mention it.

It was only a few moments before Stephen along a road again, and after a moment, stopped.

They were at the end of a dirt road.

"This is it?" Kara asked, and Stephen nodded.

"Down this way a bit, but yeah." He replied.

"I thought I lived in the country." Kara said, and he laughed, a quick bark, and smiled.

Stephen didn't move. He floated, smiling, as he gazed down the stretch of road.

"Well, are we-" Kara began, but she noticed he was crying.

"I knew I didn't come to stay here." He said, softly.

He was looking at them from a distance, using her vision, and the thought of it tempted Kara, but she knew what she was going to see. A place where Stephen didn't belong.

"What do you see?" She asked.

"They're- it isn't them." He said. "They don't live here. I don't live here."

Kara realized how much she had been hoping this visit would get a happy ending, how much she wanted for Stephen to get it all, and the pit in her stomach grew.

In that moment, Kara knew that her friend was truly like her, an outsider looking in at a world that they had never been a part of, and she felt for him. Until this point, maybe he had thought that there would be a family willing to open their doors to him, a happy surprise.

There had been for Kara.

She touched his shoulder, and he slowly descended to the ground.

"I'm sorry." He said. "It's embarrassing for me to cry like this-"

She hugged him, and it seemed that a dam had burst, as the newcomer let out the well of all of the things he was feeling.

He pulled away a moment later, red-eyed and sniffling as his nose ran freely. He blew his nose into a handkerchief.

"This was a wash." Stephen said. "It was stupid for me to come here."

"We can't go back empty-handed." Kara said, defiant. "You looked, and now you know. That's the first part of recovering from trauma, right? Closure."

"Trauma." Stephen said, in wonder. "I guess, when you put it like that, I hadn't considered that this was traumatic."

"Being ripped away from your home? Away from everything you thought you had?" Kara suggested. "Sounds like trauma to me."

"Do you think of yourself that way? As a survivor of trauma?" Stephen asked, and Kara wondered if it was the case.

"I should reflect more on that." She finally decided.

"You know, you're a wise kid." Stephen said. "Is it all those social media apps?"

"I'm sure it is." Kara said, unsure of precisely what he was referring to, but getting the gist.

"A couple of survivors." Stephen said. "I never thought I'd have anything in common with Supergirl."

"Well, I never thought I'd have anything in common with THE Stephen No-Name." Kara quipped, and he laughed.

"Well, I mean, there's the metaphysical empty-handedness gone." Stephen said. "What about the physical?"

The two didn't linger as Stephen guided them to a pizza place he remembered.

"The most okay-est pizza I've ever had." He promised.

With just enough money (Kara's) to pay for a pie, they took the pizza and found a nice tree on a hill overlooking green farmland as the sun set.

They sat on a high bare branch, watching as grass shifted in the wind. It was almost something you could see in Kansas, but Kara kept her opinion on the matter to herself.

As they sat, Stephen told her stories about his life, his family and friends, and she told him the same, and of her memories of Krypton. The two sat together until there was just a sliver of sun left in the sky.

"That pizza was good." Stephen said. "Even before coming here, it had been a while."

"You did not underpromise." Kara said, polishing off her half of the pie.

"Thank you Kara, really." Stephen said. "I'm so… lost here. Knowing there's someone as amazing and special as you watching my back helps."

"Thanks." She said, and she knew he was sincere. It made her feel a little peculiar, but she didn't mind so much, attributing it to the rubbery cheese that Stephen had just helped her eat. "Connor would've-"

"No, I'm glad it was you." Stephen said, smiling broadly at her.

Kara smiled back, and stood. Perhaps it wasn't exactly how she intended to help him, but her help had been worthwhile, and had succeeded in assisting her lost friend.

"We should go home." Kara said, and Stephen nodded.

They cleaned up the trash from the pizza, and flew off, two oddities going home together, both of them reflecting on the small journey. Both going home to the Kent house, and both with a new understanding of the other.

The two survivors.

Chapter Twenty-Two (Flight Plan)

Cass looked over at her sleeping companion. He had valiantly tried to keep pace with her, but Contact was still new. He didn't have the levels of control that she and her new family did. It was impressive to her that mere months ago he had been essentially a baseline human.

The sun had gone down hours ago, and snow was beginning to fall- winter had been steadily approaching and the duo was heading north- having adopted traveling aliases to get Cass to a place where she could physically put herself together again after her captivity, namely a safehouse in Minnesota, where she and Contact would stay until she had fully recuperated.

She brought her knees into her chest and looked out of the windows along the terminal. It was pretty, but she felt miserable.

Contact snored. His eyes had thick bags beneath them, unlike hers. She had been micro-sleeping whenever she could, as she had learned as a girl. It took a great amount of discipline over the mind, a discipline that Contact, his real name was Stephen Kent, did not have. He had just stayed up, using his metahuman endurance to match her discipline.

He had been up for three full days without sleep. After he had freed her from her captivity, the two had left the Gotham shipyard together to go to the Thompson Clinic, where Cass learned the extent of her mother's damage. She had been starved and confined for nearly a month and lost weight and muscle.

When Batman arrived, he had prescribed she needed time to recuperate, and when Contact told his tale, Batman decided that he needed to leave also.

"You two have targets on your heads." Batman had determined, and it was likely true. Shiva, Cass' mother, didn't fail. She had been briefly foiled by the duo, but it had been luck.

Cass thought back, to when he had appeared, caught in a malaise of narcotics given by Shiva, in the little shipping crate that Cass was being smuggled in, and smiled. It was a good memory, shooting her mother with the cold gun after escaping.

Cass had been lucky, lucky that the destabilizing of the Luthor government finally ended up in the League of Assassin's losing the power behind the crown in Qurac, leading Shiva to have to escape with the prey she had recently acquired.

Cass had been looking for her mother. She hadn't known what she'd do when she would have found her, but Shiva had been ready, and suddenly, Cass had been caught and without backup in Assassin-held territory.

Cass had been following a trail of seemingly insignificant pieces of information, following a trail most didn't see, and had fallen into a trap. Shiva had plans upon plans, and leaving a trail for someone stupid enough to follow was simple enough bait.

Stupid Cass, she thought. The words rang in her head. Too stupid to see the strings pulling her out from the safety of her new family. Stupid enough to think that smacking heads together in Hong Kong had kept her sharp enough to fight against her mother.

She had been sloppy, and the terrain hadn't been in her favor. As Contact had described the fight, he spoke of running and creating distance for himself, which gave him the leeway to try and maneuver a successful rescue. She had been cornered in a small enclosed room in a highrise, and hadn't been able to fend off the brutal hits Shiva had surely delivered as vigorously to Contact.

She had revisited that night many times, how she had been blindsided, and then overwhelmed, and finally taken. She replayed it over and over during her captivity, but-

" Now Boarding flight-" The announcement jarred her from her deep thought and she was shocked to find she had let herself become lost in thought which had been happening recently. The flight wasn't theirs, but her training kicked in as soon as she was brought to full awareness.

There were two other people waiting with them for their flight to a tiny regional airport in Wisconsin, where they would then make their way via car to the Minnesota safehouse, tucked into wilderness in the vicinity of Red Lake.

"Gruh-" Contact vocalized. He corrected his slouch in the chair and brought himself up for a stretch. "Shit. How long was I asleep?"

"Forty minutes." Cass said.

"Sorry." He said, scratching at his scalp.

"For what?" Cass asked, and Stephen looked like he was about to speak, but then looked at her and held his tongue.

She knew he had some sort of ability to copy the strengths of others, copying powers- and that he had recently evolved his ability to also assimilate aspects of a person's knowledge. He had specifically mentioned his contact with Shiva, how it had, in the moment, given him enough perspective on fighting to mount some sort of counter-attack that had ultimately failed, but Cass had privately realized something else.

Her ability to speak with her body, the language of reading people that she and her mother spoke alone, maybe he had been able to pick it up. He seemed to gain more meaning than most from simple looks at her.

"So." He said, reclining some and looking off into the distance. "First time to Delaware?"

"No." Cass replied, curtly. She wasn't interested in talking.

"I used to live near here. Not here, specifically-" He gestured around them. The small Delaware airport had a name Cass hadn't remembered, but was important in the interest of shooting a blast of disinformation throughout the east coast of the US for the Assassins to have to pursue. "-but in the region. For a few years."

Cass didn't respond.

"Long story. Not worth getting into, but I mean, I'm just talking to hear myself talk right now." He continued. Cass looked right at him, he signalled discomfort, and stared at his face. "I've never been to Wi- the place we're going."

She wanted him to stop talking. She hoped this off-putting action would stop him from trying to talk to her. She wasn't interested in talking, the communication that caused her the most trouble with others, especially when she was so fraught with emotional turmoil. She studied the man's face, which was bruised, but looked to be healing. It had been two days now, they had departed Gotham in secret quickly enough after they had been seen and diagnosed, avoiding main roads and using tunnels built by the original Batman to escape Gotham.

When they had left, he had just been thoroughly beaten by Shiva- face swollen and bloody, and now the swelling had gone and he seemed to have already forgotten that he was injured in the first place. The result of a few hours in the sun.

He kept leaning forward onto his hand and paining his chin, he was in the midst of doing so now. It was almost as if he was already feeling normal.

"I've heard the cheese is- ouch!" He winced and threw his head back, then interlocked his fingers behind his head and cringed. He ruffled his own hair and shook the pain off before finishing his sentence. "Good. I've heard the cheese is good."

Cass was silent, staring.

"Do you-" Contact scratched his head. "-like cheese?"

She watched him. He gulped, then snorted. His face pulled into a goofy grin and he rolled his eyes. Cass wasn't sure what had made him laugh.

"I can't believe who I'm talking to. 'Do you like cheese?'" Contact shook his head. He smiled wider. "Of course you like cheese." He chuckled, it sounded like he was trying to assert something.

The behavior was off-putting to Cass, who was unsure what had made him laugh.

"Two months." He said. It was how long Batman had told them to remain at Safehouse Nemo. "Two months."

"I'm lactose intolerant." Cass said, throwing him a bone.

"That sucks." He said, not missing a beat. "But I'd guess that's not one of the worst sources of angst in your life."

"No." Cass admitted.

Contact finally took the hint Cass was trying to send and didn't respond. The conversation trailed off there, but Cass still watched her companion. He fidgeted under her gaze until he turned to meet it.

"What?" Contact asked, irritated. He was covered in stubble, hair freshly shorn down by Alfred, wearing false glasses. He was supposed to be wearing a New York Mets baseball cap, but it had fallen onto the seat behind his own in his sleep. She was in a brown wig and they both wore loose, baggy clothes, all meant to try and change their silhouettes for someone casually looking for them.

She frowned. She wasn't quite sure why she had kept staring either. She was annoyed at herself for creating a situation that required her to speak in complex sentences.

"I haven't-" She began, speaking haltingly. She turned away from him and stared forward. She tried to come up with an excuse, but doubted her own ability to make it seem convincing. "Seen, anyone but…" She couldn't hold in her anger, but calling her "Lady Shiva" would be stupid after all they had done. "My… mother, in a long time."

The 'made-up' excuse was true, she realized, in a way. She had been in a haze seeing Leslie Thompkins and Dick Grayson, but now was clear, fully aware, and she hadn't seen anyone and actually looked at them beyond their posture and whether they were sporting any obvious or subtle weaponry.

"I'm sorry that happened." Contact said. "Look away, I suppose. If you… want?"

"You dropped your hat. Behind you." Cass said. She didn't want to talk. Now perhaps, more so than before.

"What? I- oh, damn it!" He cursed, before hastily snatching the hat and shoving it onto his head. "I-" The flight was called, and Contact rocketed to his feet. He had put the cap on and pushed the glasses up his nose. "That's ours."

Cass rolled her eyes and stood. He insisted on carrying their bags, and she wasn't thrilled, but wasn't arguing either.

With just four people, the boarding was fast. The flight was small and cramped, but had a movie, and Contact had watched it in wonder. His bulk was amusing to see fit into an airplane seat, but only for the time Cass didn't have to deal with his arm constantly touching her own, even when they both avoided the armrest like it was cursed. He was too broad, she decided, to be entirely practical, and his dedication to sitting right next to her was a bit endearing, if also a bit obnoxious.

He looked extremely uncomfortable in the cramped plane seat, but paid rapt attention to the movie.

Cass had actually seen the movie before, it was some comedy from twelve years ago or so. She had actually seen it previously, on one of her brief tenures among the Teen Titans. Most of it had been lost on her.

She decided to sleep. If the League tracked her and Contact here, on this plane, they earned it. The deception had gone perfectly, and they had spent an extra day to make sure it would go perfectly. She fell asleep quickly and deeply, allowing herself a brief moment of rest.

It went too long. Cass was awoken from blissful nothingness, with a rough shake to her arm. It was Contact.

"We need to move." He said, staring at her. "Quick, something's wrong at the airport."

Contact looked panicked, and she stood up and saw that everyone was looking at them. He had done something, the way they saw her, he had-

"Come on!" He said. "We're needed."

They looked at them like heroes. She grimaced. Her recovery had been short.

"All the lights are off in the airport, there's nothing moving in or out. We need to move quickly."

Contact led her to the door, which opened away from the view of the airport, a blessing to Cass. If it, whatever the crisis would be, was something man-made, whoever made it wouldn't see the two of them depart. She was barely feeling up to light exercise, but that wasn't exactly her call anymore. She doubted Contact had meant to do it, but the life beckoned once more.

"Please hurry." A woman, dressed in a flight attendant's uniform, said to the two of them.

"Wait!" Came from the cockpit, and a young man walked out to Cass and the others, holding up a hand.

"Johnson, you moron-" A voice called as the cockpit door closed.

"I had to tell you." The pilot, or co-pilot perhaps, Johnson, was sweating, but handsome in a rugged way and not wearing a pilot's hat or jacket, and seemed to be outside the cockpit against his fellow's wishes. "We needed to land because we were out of gas and saw the runway was clear, but we didn't hear from air traffic control on the way down and couldn't call anyone else. The whole airport is dark."

Contact's face darkened. Then he took off the cap and dropped it to the side, putting his hand through his hair and smiling.

"Never a dull moment, huh?" He said to Cass, who stared at him. His body language told her he was putting forward a false front of confidence, but he was playing it well. She was the only one who could only see his quiet fear, but she understood.

"Indeed." She agreed, departing down the lowered steps to the tarmac. Heroics and conversation were best left to others.

"Probably nothing to worry about, but stay here until we get back anyway, huh?" Contact said to the assembled group before departing. He pulled off the glasses and stared at them before putting them in the pocket of his coat.

"If it works for Superman, then-" He began, but was quickly cut off by a deafening blast and darkness.

The plane was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I got lucky again.

Dazed, but not out, I was covered by something- debris, or whatever. Not hard to hurt, but enough to shield me and Cass from whatever came a moment later to see the wreckage.

I barely heard them. The pilot, the co-pilot, those two stewardesses, the worried pair of older men- all dead in an instant.

"The fuck you mean survivors, Arrow?" A voice said. "I'm not going through that shit to check. You said if you hit it, it would explode, well damn. You hit it!"

I was hurt, but alive. Whatever had hit me, I had taken the brunt of the hit- and had covered Cass. I was strong enough to hold up my own body and the debris over us with my arms, but I felt the strain immediately.

Cass' eyes were closed. I prayed to whoever would hear me that my arms would stay steady and that she was alive. God I hoped she was alive.

"Fuck you." The voice said. "Fuck you. Resuming perimeter patrol. Flash out." There was a whoosh. I felt so ridiculously scared.

"Cass." I whispered. "I think he's gone."

She didn't stir. My arms, my stupid thick muscle arms began to shake. What's the fucking use of them! I wanted to scream, but I knew better.

"Cass!" I whispered once more with urgency. "Please wake up!"

She didn't stir. My eyes began to water with tears and I felt myself begin to buckle. I strained with all my might. My anger, anger at being weak, anger at losing those civilians, all of it, kept me going.

My eyes were closed with strain for a moment, but when they opened again, I saw I had cried tears on Cass and her eyes had opened.

"Cass!" I almost shouted, but didn't- I was so happy to see her. "Did I heal you with my tears?"

"What?" She asked, clearly perplexed. "No."

I was immediately mortified.

"Uh, I-" She looked up and down, before pulling herself clear of the wreckage. "Thank goodness, I-"

"Hold it steady." She said, before she crawled back underneath me, and I was quickly acquainted with her ass in my face.

"What are you doing?" I whisper-shouted. She was wiggling around past my waist in a way that I would have reconsidered my opinion on if we weren't in the midst of the wreckage of a plane. At the moment it was intimate and weird and I was STILL HOLDING UP PART OF A PLANE.

She pulled herself out a moment later with both of our bags. I grunted in understanding as she crouched nearby and began assembling something from my bag. She was illuminated by the light of the nearby fires and I saw she was digging in my bag, rifling through my toiletries.

"Shaver, nose hair trimmer, toothbrush." I said, pained. "You need the headphone case too. It's a facade."

Cass took time to stare at me for my usage of facade before she assembled the pieces of my belt and the Pill's case.

"Authorize new user." I said. "Quick!" I told her.

She was quick. As soon as I gave the okay, she shed her coat and attached the Heartbreaker belt and the pill and deployed my costume. She then stuck one of the collapsable staffs between the ground and me, and I crawled my way around it.

I lay on the ground, breathing heavy and scanning the wreckage. Half the plane fell on me, it felt like, but I was only underneath a section of the fuselage. I'm such a drama queen.

Cass was fully clad in my nanomesh costume, and she was clearly scanning around with greater clarity than I had through the wreck.

The heart was right on her chest, and I felt myself stare for a moment. It felt shameful, and I turned away, but I doubt she noticed. The whole tears and the wiggling, I'm really not putting my best foot forward here.

"Is something wrong with the suit?" She asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"No, nothing's wrong with it." She noticed, I suck. "What do you see?"

"Someone atop the airport's main building. Another, running around the vicinity at high speeds as well. We need to move. We have the cover of smoke, but we won't when the fast one turns." She reported, and I flipped onto my stomach. That's the most she's ever said to me.

"Where?" I asked, grabbing the cast-off bags. Aside from my costume, there's a few more surprises.

"Treeline." She says, and takes off. I follow as quickly as I can, we both stay low until we reach the surrounding trees that line the runway. The plane didn't need to taxi very far, but it hadn't done so anyway, which might've been a saving grace for us.

We reached the trees, and found that the snow beneath the thick trees was miraculously hard- enough that we won't leave tracks.

I followed Cass until we get deep enough to her satisfaction, and Ibegin pawing through the bags.

"The speedster just finished his patrol." Cass reported. Her eyes were glued to the airport.

I began pawing through my bag.

"Did you leave your coat on the runway?" I asked. Cass started, and shrugged guiltily. "Configuration 3 is for warmth."

She looked at me, and then to the belt before pressing the right buttons to pad the suit with some with the reserve nanomesh, and with a full mask to cover her face.

"Thank you." She quietly said as I continued my quest.

"No problem, boblem." I replied, before taking off my coat and shedding the sweater I was wearing.

"What are you doing?" Cass hissed.

"Well," I began, as the cold bit my skin. "You're definitely keeping the suit, and Stephen Kent is apparently a glasses guy. I need another form of visual differentiation." I pull on the shirt. "Ta-da!"

"It's a heart." She dully said as I began to put on the heavy coat I was originally wearing.

"Contact wears a heart." I admonished.

Haha, how fun, zany guy, not responsible for those dead people burning on the tarmac. Those people- how could I have thought staying put was safe?

"No one guards something empty." I claimed, with my head in the game, as much as I could manage. "We need to get inside."

"Agreed." Cass nodded. "They think we're dead."

"Quiet then." I suggested. "If there's a meta, I think I should handle it."

"The roof is smarter." She flatly stated, and I nodded. Arrow and Flash, those were the names they used, but I've met both, and that guy didn't sound like Flash. I tell her and she nods.

"Green Arrow doesn't carry arrows that can destroy planes." Was the response I got, and I agreed. Seemed like a good read on the guy.

"So an Arrow that uses anti-aircraft weaponry and a Flash-who-isn't. Well, maybe there's a fun party inside for you." I joked. "Or maybe-"

"You are not armed." Cass admonished. "Do not do something stupid."

"Sorry." I replied, cowed.

"I will infiltrate. Take down the marksman first, then the speedster." Cass dictated.

I pull my secondary gadgets out: an emergency radio with earpiece and five thousand dollars cash, and nod. Cass gave me an eye as I pulled out the wad.

"You never know." I said, as I shrugged.

She, in my costume, led me through the woods that surrounded the somewhat rural airport, until we reached the point where the crossing between the two was small enough to cross.

"Footprints." Cass said, pointing down. "Six sets."

"They must've entered this way- secured the outside and moved in. But to what end?" I asked, but she was already moving. I didn't have the benefit of a computer strapped to my face, so I followed closely behind the woman.

We got to some sort of depot- there was a fuel truck and enough of a cover to conceal ourselves from the speedster and the overwatch.

"Wait." I said, holding up my hand, and thinking. "You're still hurt, are you-"

"There's no time for hurt." Cass replied. "There could be people."

"Okay Jesse Ventura." I said. "Make sure you stay in contact, and try to stay hidden." This was pointless advice, I knew who I was talking to, but I said it anyway. Nerves maybe. "Ooh! Also, there's not much armor in that costume."

"Armor would slow me down." Cass replied.

"I'm getting really nervous hearing you say things like that." Was the last thing I said before she Batman-vanished. I didn't bother trying to track her departure. The first thing would be to try and get to the top of the building. I scanned the front and found a series of handholds which I almost-effortless to ascend.

"Dick motherfucking Grayson." I muttered, as I reached the top. There wasn't a lot of stuff on the top of the building, but I saw some air conditioning unit or whatever. I wasn't too sure, but some cover.

I ducked down, and thought for a moment. If there was some sort of Arrow here, regardless of how off-shoot or D-list, they'd be some sort of sharpshooter, and likely responsible for the destruction of the plane.

My heart hardened. For whatever reason, they had murdered innocent people. No one that wasn't understood to be a civilian was aboard that plane. Happenstance placed me and Cass there, and while I was feeling okay, Cass was definitely… not a hundred.

I peeked over once more and checked my watch- Cass had synchronized them to the laps of the speedster. I had fourteen seconds. I hauled my torso up onto the roof and silently tucked my legs up. It was dark, and if I had a good angle of distance I was pretty sure I wouldn't be seen. The "Flash" had missed me the first time, after all- they couldn't be armed with optical equipment too advanced (and it was ADVANCED here, trust me) to have not seen a trace of two people alive in the wreckage.

Regardless, it wouldn't be wise to be hanging off the side of the building when the guy ran by. I snuck as quietly as I could over the rubble- helped by the boots I was wearing- Batman modifies tons of shoes to be as quiet as his batsuit's, and I was wearing a pair. I hugged the side of the fans- they were off, but I could use them to spy around the rest of the roof.

My eyes had adjusted well to the darkness, and I spotted the "Arrow" pretty quick. Indeed, there was a man dressed in a Green Arrow costume, wielding a bow, overlooking the majority of the runway, parking lot, and roads to and from the airport.

It couldn't be Oliver Queen, or Connor Hawke, they were always on the side of good. Green Arrow was a damn leftist! I needed more information, but I also thought I could blindside this guy with a surprise attack.

I jumped up and pounced, only for him to turn at the last second and bound backward. My plan for the scuffle went out the window with that but I saw his next move and tucked into a low roll as I landed. An arrow shot over my head as I rolled and I pounced up to tackle him.

"Oof-" The man uttered as I slammed into his core. I worked efficiently in closing the gap, but in doing so, had accidentally put us too close to the edge.

We fell off of the roof, landing on a plane that was attached to the airport to disembark. We slammed onto the plane (mostly I slammed onto the plane) and then tumbled over once more before landing hard on the tarmac.

"Jesus Christ!" The man exclaimed in a thick Boston accent. We were both writhing in pain on the ground from the fall. "Who the fuck tackles someone off a roof?"

I shakily pushed myself to my feet.

"Takes a real type of fucking guy to tackle someone off a roof, I could've broken my goddamn neck!" His griping doesn't stop him from matching my pace and readying his bow.

"You just blow up a plane?' I replied. I can fully see him now. He's definitely not the real Green Arrow.

He responds by shooting the arrow he's nocked, and I whip my body out of the way of the fairly accurate shot.

"Who the fuck are you?" Boston, Boston Red Sox, Boston Baked Beans, Bean- Bean Arrow! Bean Arrow is shocked by my movement, but it's a momentary shock, and he gets his wits about him in time to pull another arrow out of his quiver.

The costume is… it must be a real Green Arrow costume, because it actually looks like a superhero costume, and not a mishapen Halloween jont.

The ground around the wheels of the plane isn't so open and favorable to an archer. I pull off my jacket and throw it into his face, causing him to wild shoot into the air, and then I swarm him. A disorienting blow to the ear, then his response, a wild haymaker that I ducked out of the way of. Another arrow, but at this point I have his number, and manage to grab it out of the air.

"Haha!" I exclaimed as I did so- this body, the control, the abilities, his goose is cooked.

"What the fuck?!" Bean Arrow shouted, before dropping the bow haphazardly and pulling a gun out of a holster on his belt.

"Are you just a dude dressed like a superhero?" I asked, incredulous.

The bow is on the ground near him- and he fumbles for a moment while he grabs the gun, enough time for me to rush in, and use my size to disorient him.

His trigger discipline is maintained while I ram into him. We scuffle for the gun, me trying to get it out of his hands, and him desperately trying to point the business end in my face.

Information files into my brain, things that I'm noticing subconsciously, and I begin to attempt the puzzle of this random airport.

This man is skilled, he has training, and it's the sort of training that prioritizes a steady hand. He's likely done something similar to this before, unlike myself. Why he's dressed like Green Arrow, I don't know.

He struggled against me for a moment, but isn't so reckless as to wildly shoot at me, which is good because I don't want a two-on-one with a sniper and what I'd assume close-range fighter with a speed factor.

He cursed in Bostonian as we broke apart.

I disarmed the pistol. Our back-and-forth struggle ending as I snagged it with force and pulled it from his hands, before ejecting the magazine and clearing the chamber. He caught his breath and lowered the hood of the Arrow costume, revealing a squat square head covered with clearly balding close-shorn red hair.

"I don't suppose you'd let me have that back?" He asks, trying to affect a easy smile.

"No." I replied. He nodded, and took another moment before putting his hands up and approaching once more.

He swung, but I had already determined his specialty, and the blow was easy to block with one arm. I tossed the pistol away behind me and began grappling with him once more. I had size on him.

"Who are you?" I asked, occupying his arms with my own, and trying to get the man into a chokehold.

"F-feck you." Is his response, with a wild headbutt- but it's too late for the imposter. I freed my hand and slammed a fist into his head. It takes three good crosses into his fat head before he goes down.

He slumps over- knocked out, and I scan around, before pulling Bean Arrow behind some cover and scanning the environs. Idly, I look up and see how far we've fallen. It was far, far enough to be lethal.

Lucky. Just lucky, lucky he didn't end up slamming into the tarmac and breaking his neck. Lucky that when I did slam into the tarmac, I didn't smash my head or break something.

The next thing I decided was to liberate some of his supplies. He has a sheaf of different arrows- some typical, but others with specialized capsules on the end. I suspected as much, but to see them and be sure they're actually the genuine article is still surprising. I undo his quiver and strap it to my back, grabbing the bow and hoping that whatever knowledge I have of using bows, limited in my own directly accessible memory, is enough to be formidable.

I noticed that he's wearing a green hood that's separated from his actual clothing, and that we're pretty close, shoulder-wise. I liberated him from the hood, and strapped it on too- enough of a disguise for my purposes.

Batman, the one I'd been training with (my mind had shifted to mission mode sometime after I had fallen) said that a silhouette could be a person's greatest tool- that the ears alone of the batsuit were enough to make criminals piss themselves.

Well, If it helped me disable the speedster, I'd take it. Then I started going through his pockets and utilities. Genuine Green Arrow costume, genuine Green Arrow Bow & Arrow, and genuine Green Arrow gear. There were also a few oddities- extra clips for the firearm attached to the belt, some grenades, but the real boons were a radio- there was an earpiece and a receiver, and a grappling tool.

They didn't exactly have the shine of Green Arrow's gizmos, I was pretty sure he had an actual grapple arrow, but this guy wasn't actually Green Arrow, and I imagined that there was a barrier between knowing how to shoot a grappling hook and shooting one out of an arrow. I was glad for it, somewhat. I didn't fucking know how to shoot a grappling arrow.

After affixing all of his equipment to myself and securely tying the archer to the nearby landing gear of the plane I had put a dent in, I checked my watch and saw I had taken too much time. There was a mere three seconds before the speedster would be back.

I knocked an arrow, as the sound of rapid footsteps and the speedster "whine" of movement approached. Now it was time for round 2.

Last edited: Oct 27, 2021

Chapter Twenty-Four

Cass saw in lower light with great clarity. Her father had raised her in the precise conditions he saw fit to make her the most superior killer on the planet. This was usually a mixed bag. The skills that made one an effective killer weren't always favorable in day-to-day situations.

For instance, her father had determined that speaking was not an optimal form of communication. Instead she had been taught a language of the body, to read the imperceptible micro-expressions of the face and read subtle movements. The trade-off was dyslexia. She had difficulty reading and writing- which wasn't to say speaking was any easier for her. She was new to language, or at least, compared to her contemporaries, new. Compared to a six-year-old? She was a prodigy.

The interior of the airport was dark, and not for the first time since their separation she wondered how her companion was doing. The black suit, Contact's suit, even with the full mask over her face, still had a large heart over her chest. A RED heart, which was doubly peculiar.

Apparently, the symbol was randomly chosen, and while Cass had nothing to say about the symbolism, she wore a bat on occasion, she did have some umbrage with the color and size.

Batman's bat was on the most heavily armored part of the suit- the same philosophy for all the batsuits, aside from this weird thing. Extra "armor" was padding around the joints, knee, shoulder, and elbow pads, but didn't add much to the torso.

But Contact was resistant to small-arms, a metahuman, and therefore, she still didn't understand the ethos. She knew that Tim and Dick were fans of psychological symbolism, the "mental" aspect of crime-fighting that affected the heroes and the villains, and it made her a bit nervous to think she was wearing a metahuman's security blanket.

She tried to push the thoughts away- she didn't have the words to say what she felt about the suit, and Contact was notoriously sensitive to any sort of criticism, she had been warned.

Her last thought on the matter was a simple question- didn't he know the Royal Flush Gang? He was wearing a card symbol, whether he meant to or not. His personal symbol was taken some of the time by people who robbed banks with metahuman "abilities", albeit natural or supplemented by technology.

Cass' eyes would adjust if she wasn't being fed information, but the visor of the suit did more than tell her information- it fed her navigation cues, highlighted security measures, and as Tim had most proudly told her, could inform her where the shadows of the room were most potent for stealth. He was very proud of it.

She wished she could turn it off. The numbers and symbols that surely gave Contact valuable information only made her annoyed. They changed far, FAR too quickly, in her opinion. How was she supposed to keep up?

The main room of the airport was ten gates separated by partitions, security that seemed as pitiful as it had been effective in stopping what had happened. No bodies, but there was a lot of space in the large building. The main room being empty only meant that whoever did this was wise enough to do whatever this was with minimal civilians. A skeleton crew would be operating the bare essentials this late, the flight that had gotten them there was the perfect example.

Was.

She didn't altogether understand-

"Package secure." Someone said, pricking up Cassandra's ears. From her vantage point atop one of the wooden struts that lined the ceiling, she had a large view of the open space. She couldn't see anything.

The hunt was on.

---

Now, I'd like to allow you to believe that I was able to valiantly fight off the assailants who were responsible for blowing up the plane, and it would make for an amazing arc if I, the regular-guy-turned-superhero, was suddenly able to use all my newfound skills and abilities, and then overcome any obstacle.

Now, here's what happened. I had liberated a bow and arrow from the fake Green Arrow, and was unable to make any practical use of it, because even though I was imbued with the general aptitude of all I had connived from my copying victims, I didn't actually have specific archery experience beyond some dabbling in my personal life.

Dabbling could be generous. I had shot a few bows before, and knew the form, but hitting anything aside from the broad side of the barn was tough.

When I had been trained, insofar as I had been trained, I was told my poor general aim, a general issue that I needed practice to overcome, was from my dominant eye (my left) and my dominant hand (my right).

Now, give me a handful of throwing weapons and a few hours, and I will entertain myself AND put a handful of holes into whatever is in my general direction. I can eventually get the hang of it, eventually, I can feel comfortable enough to let my body do the crazy escrima tricks that are burned into my muscle memory.

As I stood, cold, without a coat, in a few pieces of an Green Arrow costume, hundreds of yards away from the smoldering wreckage of a plane I was on not five minutes before it crashed-

This was not the time to develop archery as a skill or a hobby.

Nevertheless, I realize now that my recent brushes with trauma, both due to my own hand, and at the expense of others, had warped my view- I needed to take out this Flash, because I had to do "something". That something may have been impotent and stupid-

Regardless. I was armed, I had equipment, and over the course of the next few minutes, that all went away.

I first missed my shot, alerting the Flash. He stopped as he heard the arrow whoosh by behind his head, and it took him a few seconds to see me and perceive that I wasn't his friend, which gave me enough time to actually move out of his range, which, I should have realized, was nearly everywhere that was on a flat plane.

Were I not so frantic and decided on engaging him, I could have fallen back and waited until he figured out I wasn't his guy.

That would've been a Batman move. This was a Steve move.

He immediately caught my second shot- plucking it out of midair like it was hanging still. I could see the energy he had leaking out, he would shake himself, little spasms of speed that vibrated parts of his body into blurred afterimages.

He then immediately attacked. I think he was ready for combat, he didn't say much, but in that same vein, his actions were obnoxiously loud. He hit me, maybe a dozen times it felt, with each punch.

Were his hands not covered by the Flash outfit, I'd suspect knuckles oozing blood out of ruptured skin, but I couldn't tell. It was a nice image in my head to think of him hurting himself by hitting me so efficiently.

He knocked the snot out of me- he knocked aside the bow, took the arrows out of the quiver, but the gear was firmly attached to me and presented a less enticing real-estate for his hands than my face, torso, or balls, oddly.

I mean not oddly- I was a gibbering pile of bruise, doubling over in pain after about fifteen seconds of direct assault. He didn't do direct, though. He'd come in, wail on me for a second, and then take himself out of the range of any returning salvo of blows I'd have.

I was both shocked and awed. My brain processing the pain as it happened struggled to function beyond that- but luckily, I had my special body language that also did nothing, but frustratingly showed me stuttering images of him hitting me and laughing through the process.

When I was thoroughly beaten, I felt almost a high- the pain became a bit transcendent, with pulses cutting through the buffering ram state he had put me in.

If I had the desire to talk, I would have managed a "guh", but pained moaning took over.

"Who are you?" The Flash asked.

That's good, keep him talking. I thought to myself, and prepared to respond.

"Blugh" Was the only word I managed as I puked some airplane peanuts and those weird not-ginger snaps.

He laughed wryly, I imagine, at the sight of me, a large man in a piecemeal costume doubled over puking from his beating.

"I knew that O'Sullivan was going to pay for that archery bullshit." The Flash mused. "I fucking told him."

A sharp kick to the stomach brought me out of my haze.

"I asked you a question, you didn't answer." He said, leaning in close. I mindlessly put out a hand to stop him, trying to do anything to prevent the next punch.

Two sharp slaps on either side of my face stopped my token resistance.

"What the hell was that?" He asked. "What did you just do?"

I didn't feel anything, and there wasn't anything I particularly wanted or needed, so I wasn't sure.

I could touch people and copy things, but I had never subconsciously done so outside of metahumans. I didn't feel 'fast' though. I didn't feel anything aside from pain.

"Who are you?" He asked, pulling me up by the collar of my stupid heart shirt, as I lolled against his efforts.

Now, I don't have to say this, I think- but I was pushing 250 lbs of almost pure kryptonian-bullshit beefcake, so aside from running, this guy had some serious muscle.

He picked me up off my feet, and spun me around at speed, before tossing me into another airplane.

The dent I left, I would later see, was quite sizable.

When I fell to the ground, I let out all the air in my lungs, and had to wheeze-gasp my way back to respiration.

The False-Flash appeared momentarily, looking down, as I could see through the mask, appraisingly.

"You aren't just some chump, huh?" He said, smiling widely. "Let's see how far I can toss you."

---

For Cassandra, the very peculiar had lost a lot of its shock value. Once you saw Chemo, or Swamp Thing, or whatever other thing, the amount of shock you could reasonably expect to have was much lower.

That being said, what she found was a bit shocking.

In a display of deep focus, there were two people in costumes fiercely making out, hands pawing over and under what looked like well-made costumes of Batman and Catwoman.

Now, what was interesting about these two aside from their dress, was the operations gear they had worn over their costumes.

They looked like soldiers, which was her first instinct. They had military-grade automatic rifles cast aside for their tryst, and that, alongside their plate-carriers helped her put pieces together.

Three unpowered operators dressed as costumed heroes (or antiheroes) and a metahuman dressed similarly-

"Qui bono?" Echoed through Cass' mind. Who benefitted from this place being taken under control, and why were the assailants dressed up like superheroes?

Absently, she wondered if Contact had subdued the sniper, and how he was doing.

---

"Seventy-five feet!" The man nearly-screamed with pleasure, as I landed and tore more skin away from where my bare arms hit the pavement.

---

Now, while Cass wasn't the most prolific of lovers, she had been able to understand that the two gunmen weren't focused.

Bad for them, good for her. With her stealth skills, she could realistically follow them around without being spotted indefinitely.

Now, she hadn't broken radio silence with Contact yet, and she didn't want to if it meant that she would break whatever focus the newly-blooded hero was trying to stop the two outdoors assailants.

---

The False Flash took a break from tossing me around like a ragdoll to double over and pant. He had been extremely animated for the last few minutes- I could see it in his body language, not because of any exertion, but rather because his limbs would occasionally shake and vibrate like he needed an outlet for whatever was fueling him.

"W-what's happening to-?" He began to speak, before he fell to his knees and clutched his chest. "You gotta be shittin'-" He began, but never finished.

I lay alone in the middle of the airport runway, and began to quietly cry as I processed how much I was hurting.

---

Contact, Cass knew, was at least intelligent enough to come up with a plan that would deal with the two men. She had seen him thinking on his feet, and it had actually impressed her. Not for the elegance of the plan, but that he could use tools to come up with some sort of idea and work with it.

It was an important skill, one that Tim Drake had trouble with, occasionally.

She slowly pulled her body away from the wall and across the exposed beans of the ceiling until she was over the fake Gothamites.

"Three more, babe." The Batman said. "Three and we're free."

The Catwoman smiled lovingly into the exposed (no lenses) eyes of her seeming-lover.

Cass tried her best to remember each word as it was spoken, but she couldn't parse it.

Whatever he had revealed, though, Cass felt it was important.

"I love you, Gary." Catwoman said, almost quietly. "Three more." She said that part fondly.

"I can't believe we got put with Greeley and O'Sullivan." Batman Gary said. "Those morons."

The Catwoman smiled at his joke, but she clearly didn't find it as funny as she indicated.

Cass wondered out of the two of them which was the one in charge.

"I think-" Catwoman began, but suddenly, they both stood stock still. Cass recognized them standing at attention-

They WERE soldiers. She had suspected as much.

Obviously receiving a message, Cass wondered if the fancy suit she wore could be used to hear part of it.

She pulled herself into a compact ball at the meeting between a ceiling joist and a rafter and looked at what she had in her belt.

She recognized some things, but it took her a few seconds to see that unlike her own suit, which was built for her understanding, this suit had unique differences.

Instead of holistic gear and gadgets in numbers, it looked like Contact preferred a lot of variety with three-to-five standard gadgets he carried.

Cass then decided that she would try and navigate his suit's functions, and after traversing menus she couldn't REALLY understand (why did this suit have bluetooth functions?) she eventually found the proper function and turned it on to hear the very end of what was happening.

"Secondary and Tertiary objectives have been completed. Wildcat and I will be back ETA fifteen. Protect the primary objective, secure exfil." The transmission garbled. "-Deadshot, out."

---

I finally felt like I could push myself to my feet after about five minutes of being alone with the corpse.

Impotently, after I pulled myself together, I checked his nonexistence pulse and gulped.

Now, I hadn't managed to do anything to the guy except for not copying his powers. I wasn't feeling any better because he had died, but I wasn't going to feel worse.

I decided to not think about it, and began to frisk the dead man. If he wasn't dead because of me, I needed to know what-

I hadn't seen his back- across the small of it, there was a bag. I grabbed at the bag, his only place to store his personal effects, and began to pull out a kit of some sort.

"What the fu-" I said, before my stomach fell to my knees. I could barely make out a hypodermic needle and some vials- each labeled: Velocity-9.

"Oh shit." I muttered.

Last edited: Aug 15, 2022

Chapter Twenty-Five

I was alone, and scared. It felt nostalgic, I briefly thought about that fateful evening at Kent Farms, but my pain brought me back to reality.

I wasn't sure about what had happened, vaguely remembering an occasion where I touched the man, but what could that mean? I might tell you, "I screwed up" which I did, but I feel like there's two types of screw up: ones you come back from, and ones you don't.

Now, give me the first, and I'll be fine, I'm an easy going guy, you have to roll with whatever punches you get thrown, and accepting that is a part of growing up.

But I wasn't quite sure what I was dealing with here. I didn't feel myself copy this gentleman, dead as he is, but HE felt something. I could remember getting as hurt as I just had very well, with some minor exceptions. I couldn't remember if he had been reacting to me copying him, or reacting to me trying to push him away.

Given my own cynicism, I couldn't truly believe he was just irritated. I would defend myself, but I wasn't sure what I had copied, if I had. Did I even need to worry?

He used Velocity-9, which I was vaguely familiar with. A DC Comics narcotic designed to simulate the powers of The Flash, which this man had done.

Now, was his death a part of the plan? I didn't know. I wasn't trying to panic, but when it comes to screw-ups, I've never been good at handling the ones that don't have easy answers.

Briefly, I considered doing the drug, gaining super-speed would be advantageous, but the needle scared me. I would probably end up losing an arm, all of that aside from the fact that it was a strange drug that I had not sourced myself.

That I was even considering the idea told me exactly how out of my depth I was, how frantically uneven. The absurdity of it was centering. My brain's way of saying "Now you've considered using strange drugs, please be actually intelligent."

I was having a lot of trouble with my state of mind, and it was catching up with me.

I was currently one of two sole survivors of a fairly noteworthy tragedy. I couldn't decide if I needed to open myself up or close myself off from the despair at the edges of my thoughts.

In that state, I gathered what I could from the supplies the two men had been carrying, regained some arrows and the bow, and slipped the drugs into my back pocket in their small case.

Regardless of whatever I was feeling, regardless of the death, regardless of how hopelessly depressed I was threatening to become, Cass needed me, and I couldn't stop.

As long as I was needed, I couldn't stop.

I told myself this, almost assuming it as a mantra, repeating to myself I couldn't stop (in the proper tense, mind you) as I grappled up to the roof using the Green Arrow's equipment, and let myself into the access stairway from the roof.

As I walked, I would occasionally stumble and get deeply furious at myself. I couldn't stop, I couldn't stop. Cass needed me, I couldn't stop.

My body failing, while understandable given the timeline of events, couldn't be forgiven. I had done everything I was a part of until this point. I was responsible.

I made the call about the other passengers staying put, I made the call to attack Flash, it was me. Now, a thoroughly out-of-commision d-list wannabe was the only support Batgirl had. Or Orphan, or whatever.

I was disguised, I knew that more clearly now. I couldn't rouse the Green Arrow, I must've hit him too hard, but he had a pulse, which was… good?

I didn't know if I could just rely on concussing people here as a defensive tool. The rules of this world blurred in my head, and I wondered if I was concussed before deciding it was probably the case, and that grappling up the building as I had wasn't as smart as I thought it was.

I knocked an arrow as I stepped from the staircase into the dark airport for the first time, and saw that there were ample places for a ninja to hide, which made me feel better.

I began to walk slowly in a random direction until my earpiece, the one I had from Cass, went off.

I looked around and ducked into a small alcove for charging phones before answering.

"Cass?" I tentatively asked, pressing the transceiver.

"Good, you're alive." Came the matter-of-fact response. "We have problems."

"Okay." I said, as flatly and non-reactive as possible.

"These people, they are soldiers. Possible they work for government." She said. "I have also learned that, if I did not mishear, Deadshot is here."

I wanted to scream, and felt my body inflate with the anger and fear, only for it to be trapped at the back of my throat. I think that's called an implosion.

Lump in my throat, about to start crying again, I felt so unbelieveably weak.

"Is there-" I began, faltering. "Is there a world where we just grab the keys to some rental car and get the fuck out of here?"

There wasn't an immediate response. I felt for sure that she was judging me on the other end of the line, almost positive.

"I'm coming to you." She said, and I knew my goose was cooked. Batman didn't give up.

I sat down and stared into the distance in the charging kiosk. I wanted to be special, to matter, and I was now realizing how shallow, how little, those ideals meant.

"I'm-" I began to say after I realized she couldn't know where I was, but she dropped down almost as I began to speak. "-Hey."

She was fully clad in my costume's "stealth" mode, but the heart was still red.

I reached over and pressed the buckle until the red turned a muted purple.

She looked at the heart and touched it- I could tell she was surprised based on her body language.

She looked at me. She was concerned, worried? Could I actually tell, or was my brain coming up with emotions to give a mask with eyeholes?

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"No." I sniffed. "I messed up."

She raised an eyebrow.

"There is no alarm?" She asked, and I shook my head.

"No, I mean… I GOT 'em, technically." I began, but she put up a hand.

"They do not know we are here?" She asked.

"I get your point." I said, huffy. I didn't want her to tell me I was doing fine. I wasn't doing fine.

Whether or not she understood me as well as I could understand her, she didn't try and cheer me up, or pat my shoulder, she just stopped talking. The scrape of her support against my bruised ego, though, was enough to get me to refocus a bit, and I think she could read that.

"We're here." She said, with some finality, and I felt relieved. She wasn't totally angry or betrayed by me asking if we could leave. It was a response to my question of weakness. We were there, and we had to do something.

I stood up, slightly less worried.

"One of the fake guys died." I said, before I could stop myself.

She raised a brow.

"It wasn't ME." I said, correcting her assumption. "I think he had a heart attack."

She nodded. I could tell she was deep in thought, and I assumed it was because we were dealing with what looked like some sort of Suicide Squad.

"So we're up against Amanda Waller." I said, voicing my theory. "She finally got sick of dealing with supervillains and started dressing up marines or whatever."

Cass seemed neither pleased or displeased.

"Messy." She said, and I wondered about that for a second as well.

It WAS messy. I knew that the US government wasn't always about crossing 'i's and dotting 't's, but commiting what I thought was a technical mass murder on American soil was… well, not 'new', but not typically within what comic writers viewed as something the government was capable of.

It was fishy. I said as much. "Fishy enough," I continued, "-for me to believe that we might be dealing with some sort of incompetent moron."

Cass nodded. She hadn't seen anything to disprove that thesis in her time, after all.

"My question is-" I summarized my thoughts. "Stupid on purpose, or stupid as a result of dangerous negligence?

---

Floyd Lawton, AKA Deadshot, was rarely known to miss. He wasn't a metahuman, he just had a natural skill that he had blossomed through years of work and effort into a very lucrative position in life.

In some ways, he was the capitalist dream. He had been born rich, but his parents had managed to squander that. Thrust into squalor, he used his skills to gain himself a new fortune, to buy back into the world he had once known. Then it had all ended. He had earned a fortune, and that fortune was currently being used to line the pockets of bureaucrats.

"Don't you miss the good ol' days, Greeley?" Lawton asked, pulling a drag from the vaporizer someone had given him instead of his cigarettes.

The former-marine driving the truck they had taken met his eyes through the rearview. The mask of his costume, a facsimile of the Justice Society member named Wildcat, was off and bunched around the square, squat face's neck. He said nothing.

Lawton actually enjoyed Greeley's company. The former-marine had killed a few dozen civilians overseas, but he was a good guy, a classic sort of guy.

Greeley wasn't made of the same chickenshit as the rest of his new "team". He was a shooter, a damn good one, and invaluable in a way that Lawton had forgotten.

When you were the only shooter, it made it hard to rely on the eyes of others. But Greeley knew what he was doing, and unlike the other sniper, O'Sullivan, he didn't fucking like Green Arrow.

Wildcat was a cool hero to pull for your costume. Wildcat was legit, everyone knew that. The motherfucker was STILL kicking in heads, pushing at least sixty.

Lawton had selected him as his back-up for the last mission, and had decided to keep up his new trend.

It had been a random decision, his team was technically all shooters, but Kearns had elected to shoot up to become the fucking Flash and was useless behind a gun until his shit wore off.

Fisher and Wexler were useless, always going off and making eyes at one another.

Now, Lawton didn't want to have actual sex with Wexler, but that didn't mean he wouldn't arrange an accidental "walking in on" with Fisher to see her in action.

Fisher was useless, but until he managed to get Wexler to reveal what looked like an easy 8/10 pair of tits, Lawton couldn't actually engineer the man's untimely demise.

O'Sullivan could actually shoot, but he had an annoying accent and refused to shut up, and that had left Greeley.

The man was now focusing on the road, as Lawton sat in the back and attempted what was ultimately a bad copy of chain-smoking.

"Time passing has ruined America. That's what I think is wrong with this country. What our forefathers got right. They knew that if you started shit, you had to end it." Lawton said, continuing from a conversation that hadn't been engaged. "The duel."

Greeley, against his better judgment, looked again, and saw Floyd Lawton's trademarked mustache quirked ever so slightly higher on one side.

"That's the problem? Not enough dueling?" Asked Greeley, a reluctant look on his face.

"Sure as hell is." Lawton said, leaning forward to the space between the front seats. "It should be legal in this country to kill someone for slighting you."

"That's a bold claim." Greeley said.

"The only type that's any good? Of course." Lawton said. "Let's say I call your mother a classless whore who'd suck cock for a dollar four times and still have her clients asking for change on a five. Why shouldn't you be able to kill me?"

"Because it's wrong?" Greeley replied.

"You don't believe that Greeley." Lawton said, admonishing him as if he were a schoolchild. "People who think that killing is wrong aren't serving murder sentences."

"True enough." Greeley said. Ever the pragmatist that Greeley, Floyd mused.

"I can't stand businessmen- they think that eventually you make enough money and THAT's what lets you kill people- that's the problem with today's culture. You think Lex Luthor becomes the president in a world where he has to justify everything he says to fifty-thousand people pointing .45's at him?" Lawton complained. "No, he'd shit his bald pants."

"Says a lot about the world today." Greeley replied.

"Says it all." Lawton agreed. "If we gave each person a fuckin' gun, if you could shoot someone who crossed you? You'd watch your fucking mouth. The wild west, my friend. What a place."

"Nostalgic?" Greeley asked, half-joking, but Lawton suddenly seemed wistful.

Lawton blew out a cloud of mango-orange and sighed. "I went back there a few years ago."

"Where?"

"The wild west. Met Jonah Hex, the old gunslinger? Abracadabra went back to avoid something Waller wanted him to do. Fought Booster Gold over it." Lawton said. "There's a good use of my time, shooting that moron. Not this shit where I can't even smoke."

"We're here." Greeley said, as he pulled into the airport parking lot.

"Finally." Lawton said. "Mask up, Greeley. We're into the shit."

The two men put on their masks. Each carried a modified M4 and checked to see if the weapons were loaded.

"You ever think you'd miss Waller?" Greeley asked.

Lawton knew his smile couldn't be seen, but he still smiled. Greeley always ended things on a high note.

"The bitch is dead." Lawton said, shrugging. "Long live the bitch."

---

Cass' plan was simple enough- I handed her my liberated radio and set our radios to pick up the frequency, and she told me what she knew.

The costumes, she had gleaned, were indicative of whether the person had powers, or at least that assumption hadn't been challenged, and that there was a Batman and a Catwoman, and they had something important they were guarding. The last two goons.

Cass quickly led me to where she had seen the two, and disappeared (I ended up giving her the bow and arrow) to find them.

I slumped against a wall and waited for the dull throb going through me to stop. I wasn't optimistic that I would suddenly be okay again, but it was something to do and my phone was in my stuff that I had stashed.

Also, I was told it was a bad idea to use it while I was actively breaking the law by being a vigilante. Really took the wind out of my Pokemon Go habit.

"I can not find them." I heard Cass say into my earpiece.

"What were they doing before they disappeared?" I asked.

"Kissing." Cass said.

"Oh, like, making out?" I began, but she cut me off. "Or like-"

"Sex." Cass replied, and that just made no sense to me.

"Like, a dick getting sucked?" I asked. "I thought you said kissing?"

"Possible." Cass said, and I became more sure that we were having a different conversation on her end.

I sighed. My instincts told me that I wasn't easily going to understand her syntax without seeing her. I hadn't noticed how much easier it was to understand her when I saw her before having this little chat.

"How much time do we have?" I asked, but she didn't answer. No chatter on the other frequencies either. I stood up. "Guess I'll start looking."

I didn't have to go far, as I walked for a few moments before I heard soft moans coming from a nearby individual restroom.

I probed the door, and found that it wasn't locked.

Now, I could tell you that my Flash experience had changed the way that I viewed the world, and that I was now a cool, tactical badass. A tacticool badass, if you will.

Anyway, after I opened the door, I saw something I wasn't expecting.

Now, what DID I expect? A guy in a Batman suit getting a hummer. What I saw was different.

A man, the presumed faked Batman, was lying on the floor, a pool of blood had begun to pool around his head.

Nearby, on the toilet, there was a man quivering (the moaning I had heard) and a woman in a costume without a mask furiously typing on a keyboard.

She didn't see me, but the quivering man did, and he immediately flew off the toilet- an action that he did not pull off gracefully.

The woman turned and pointed a gun at me.

"Freeze, O'Sullivan!" She shouted, and I turned and put my hands up.

"I'm not O'Sullivan." I said. "Do I still have to freeze?"

---

"Check in." Lawton said into his mic.

Radio silence. Lawton let out a whistle.

"No one's answering." Greeley said, with his usual mastery of the obvious.

"Congratulations on the promotion in the obvious military, Greeley. That makes you a Sergeant Major?" Lawton said, fuming. "All points, check in."

More silence.

"Shit!" Lawton shouted. "Shit." He repeated, more annoyed than anything else.

"What's the play, boss?" Greeley asked.

"Well, I can't tell Control that no one is listening, now, can I, Greeley?" Lawton asked. "I'm NOT going the way of Boomerang. We're finding the package, and we're leaving."

---

"Who are you?" Catwoman asked.

"Green Arrow." I said. "Good to see you Catwoman."

"You had better give me some fucking answers." She said, "Or I'll put one in your brainpan."

"Isn't that supposed to be your plan anyway?" I wondered aloud. Hands raised as if I were in a position of apathy.

"Who are you?" She asked, with more finality.

"A superhero." I replied. "No one popular enough for you to know."

"I know quite a few." She replied.

"Including him?" I asked, gesturing to the man now huddled against the bathroom wall. "You were knocking boots with Batman here just a minute ago."

"No I was not." She said, "I'm with A.R.G.U.S.."" She continued. "A plant with the Suicide Squad."

"Should you be telling me that?" I asked.

"Stephen Kent, of Smallville, Kansas." She said, which made me double-take. "I know a lot of heroes."

"What the hell, lady?" I asked, pointing to the man. "He just heard that!"

Someone revealing they know MY secret identity? What a turn of the cheek.

"He's barely alive." She said, "We will be too if I don't hurry."

Catwoman put her gun down and continued typing.

"Just like that, we're working together?" I asked.

"Do you know who that man is?" She asked, and so I took a closer look. Older, balding, white, skinny, pretty busted looking.

"No." I replied.

"Well, presume that I do, and presume further that I would not kill my associate without a good reason." Catwoman said.

"So who is he?" I asked.

"The package." She replied, flatly.

"John Dee." Cass said, appearing at my elbow. The whole stand-off thing repeated with me as an intermediary to speed it up. It was tedious. I wasn't actually in a mask, and presumably she had access to some system of recognizing heroes, etc, which, firstly; wow fuck I didn't know THAT existed, and secondly didn't work on Cass with my costume on.

Masks worked, was my takeaway. Masks work, and that this woman was NOT Catwoman.

As the two of them tersely confronted each other, I noticed Mr. Dee twitching, before collapsing to the ground.

"Is he okay?" I asked, helping him to his feet.

"Shit!" Catwoman said, and, Cass forgotten, she ran to a nearby bag and pulled out a needle-

It was too late, though, and Dee began to foam at the mouth before screaming: "THE CONQUEROR OF ALL SLEEPS ALONE IN HIS BROKEN SPACE! A SEARCHER OF TRUTH LIGHTS HIS PATH TO US ALL"

The Catwoman wasn't closer to him than I was in the cramped bathroom, and he grabbed my lapelle and leaned close to me- I could smell his rancid breath and see his yellowing teeth.

"The void of nothingness awaits you!" He whispered urgently to me. "You must cage the noble beast within, give him his desserts! Within, at the place of the green flame, he must await! You are the crusader, a man out of hope, and you must suffer! The two faces within are the two faces of the God himself! Evil and Love watch you now and see what they must!"

Then he puked blood across my front.

After he puked, his body crumpled to the ground.

"Great." I groaned. "What a day."

Catwoman began to administer whatever first aid, and I walked out after assessing that the bathroom had only one exit.

Cass joined me.

"Easy flight." She joked. It had been, honestly.

"I hate arriving at airports." I said, and chuckled at her joke. "Who's John Dee?"

She looked surprised.

"You do not know him?" She asked, and I shook my head.

"I'm not perfect." I admitted. "There are gaps in my encyclopedia."

"Doctor Destiny." She said, which I assumed was his nom de guerre, but illustrated little to me.

"What's his gimmick?" I asked.

"Dreams." She said, and I looked down at my vomit-and-blood-soaked front.

"Not my first guess." I admitted. "But I'm not in much of a guessing mood, to be honest. Why's he spouting nonsense?"

"It isn't nonsense." Catwoman said. "It's a prediction." She had exited the bathroom with her weapon and mask up.

Our radios flared.

"Check in." A gruff, mechanically altered voice said.

"What did you just say?" I asked. "What do you mean 'a prediction'?"

The criminal-turned-secret-agent looked at me hard.

"I mean, that man just told you your future." She said, "But it won't do you any good. Our time's up."

Last edited: Oct 22, 2022