100YoP Chapter Twenty-Seven "I can do loud." (Patreon)

When Billy, Farah and Yua all burst into Alice’s clinic, they found her sewing up a gash that cut diagonally across my chest, having just finished with Steph. Cass was already there, sitting in the corner, fuming and doing her best to not distract Alice as she paced around, frowning deeply and crossing her arms.

The clinic I’d bought and funded for Alice was spacious, well-staffed and supplied, and very quite hidden. Which was only natural, since it was a back-alley clinic for gangsters, addicts, the homeless, the broke and other unfortunate souls of Gotham.

It was placed further south than Crime Alley, but much further north than Alice’s childhood home, square in the middle of The Bowery. The building itself was spacious, with two rooms for surgery, one office for consultation and more than a few beds in one room with curtains separating them.

When my crew came in, boldly ignoring the nurses, the security officer and the secretary that tried to stop them, it was seven of us crammed into one of the surgery rooms.

Alice muttered something unkind, not looking up from her stitching, but did speak up through her facemask to tell me to, “Tell your dumbass friends to leave me room to breathe.”

I looked at my dumbass friends and told them, “Give Alice room to breathe.”

“Get fucked,” Farah immediately replied, with no hesitation. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said. In a bold breach of the hipocratic oath, Alice chose that moment to prick me with the needle particularly hard, making me wince. “I’m mostly fine. Guy was tough, but I managed with Steph and Cass’ help.”

“I was meaning to ask,” said Billy, looking at Steph’s bruised ass as she poked at her bandages. “How’d you get mixed up in everything.”

“I heard the gunshots. And the shouting.”

{[X]}

Aft er I smacked him across the face and realized that he was a new masked asshole trying to kill me, I was unable to stop Red Hood from reaching behind his back and pulling out a second handgun.

I was not, however, too slow to bring up the cast iron skillet and lift it over my body until my Spidey Sense stopped ringing.

His training worked against him, the grouping of his shots too tight. I didn’t have to move the skillet as I backed away and, by the time he was reaiming, I was already jumping away, getting on the other side of the bar from Red Hood.

“Nice way to say hello, asshole!” I called out, quickly checking myself for injuries just to be safe. “Who fuckin’ raised you?!”

“Oh, and you’re so much better?! Who hits someone with a fuckin’ iron pan?!”

“It’s a skillet, and if you dented it you can kiss your ass goodbye!”

{[X]}

“Really?” Farah asked, rolling her eyes. “That’s your priority in a gunfight? Your skillet?”

“I fuckin’ love that skillet, Farah. It’s my baby,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s his child, Farah,” Billy chimed in.

“I’m working hard so that skillet goes to college one day, Farah.”

“You can’t make fun of someone for looking out for their child, Farah.”

“Both of you, shut up,” said Alice, finishing her stitches.

“Sorry, Alice,” Billy and I said in unison.

“You gotta teach me how you do that,” said Farah, all starry-eyed.

“Gimme a call, we’ll make a date out of it,” Alice replied.

Farah smiled, twitched a bit, cleared her throat and looked at me. “So what happened next?”

“Well, I remembered I threw my gun on the couch, so after throwing my keys to draw his attention I ran for the couch and jumped behind it. He caught on pretty quick and winged me on the arm before I could hide behind it, but that was it. He did fuck up my TV, tho.”

“No!” all my friends said, except for Cass, Alice and Steph.

The former ‘cause she had other things in mind and the latter two because they’d already mourned it.

“Yeah, I know,” I said. “I’m sad too, but I’ll get a new one soon.”

“You better,” Farah pouted. “I still wanna play Gatewayon a big-ass screen.”

Personally, I thought she could probably buy her own big-ass screen considering she was paid better than some CEOs, but I think she just liked having an excuse to come over and play games with me.

“Anyhow,” I said, “After a bit more banter and shootin’...”

{[X]}

I swiped at his head with the skillet, but he just ducked back to get out of the way and aimed his gun at me.

I batted his gun away just as he pulled the trigger, the shot going wide and through a wall. My eyes narrowed, realizing I had to block his shots or have my back to the wall if I didn’t want him to clip a civilian.

I spun my feet, still facing him while I turned to have my back towards the fire escape. My right hand pulled back the hammer of my beretta while my left swiped again with the skillet.

Again, he dodged, but this just gave me the opening I needed to open fire on his chest, making him stumble back enough that I could comfortably kick him in the neck, making him fall to the side.

Of course, this tore out the crotch of my jeans, because nothing in life is easy.

Still, as soon as he fell I was opening fire on his back, making him grunt in pain. He tried to get up, but a shot at the shoulder lifting him up and to the back of his helmeted head pushed him back down.

As soon as my gun clicked empty, I took a confident step forward and slammed down my foot on his back, putting my whole weight behind it.

I crouched, my body positioned so that one foot was on his neck and one knee was on the middle of his back. His head was titled to the side, and I put the skillet at height with his eyes.

“I’m not a vengeful person,” I said. “I shouldbe, considering my brand. Fucking. New. Television. But I’m not. So how about you fuck along to murder someone else, huh?”

“I think... you should... go fuck yourself,” Red Hood replied, struggling to lift my weight after I used my Stick ‘Em powers to stay near the floor. “Your days... are numbered...”

“Doesn’t that imply I have more—”

I would have been more of a smartass, but my Spidey Sense ringed just in time for me to jump back. Not fast enough to get out of range of the gas grenade he pulled out.

It expelled a large burst of green smoke, still in his hand as he stood up. He dropped it at my feet and dead eyed me as he stood up, vanishing in the smoke like a goddamned Bat.

I lifted the neck of my shirt, for all the good it didn’t do.

I quickly catalogued the effects: my eyes were tearing up, my vision was going to hell and they felt puffy. My nose was burning and getting runny, my mouth was getting full of drool that I couldn’t swallow, and breathing was a bitch and I half.

Tear gas. Choosing to help myself before focusing on fighting a ninja, I ran for the counter and tipped over the fruitbowl, fumbling and barely grabbing a lemon, half-blind as I was.

I bit off the head of it, spat out all the drool in my mouth then squeezed the lemon out over my eyes and into my mouth. I swallowed with difficulty, ignoring the burn of the acid while I felt my vision clear up a bit and my throat unclenching. It wasn’t doing too much, considering I was still in a cloud of tear gas, but it was a salve on the wound.

My Spidey Sense rang and I threw myself to the side right as a knife swung where my back had just been. I rolled to my feet in a move I learned from Cass, just in time to see Red Hood rushing towards me. I blocked a punch with the skillet, but he didn’t even hesitate to follow up with a roundhouse kick to my head.

I ducked under it and took a step forward, launching a knee at his stomach. Even with the armour, he had a disturbing lack of reaction, immediately throwing an elbow up at my jaw. That I took, letting it throw my head to the side.

With the leg that was still raised, I stamped down on his knee, forcing his body lower, then wrapped an arm around his neck to bring him up in a cinch and slammed a fist into his stomach, then into the side where his armor didn’t cover. Over and over I punched, throwing his arms off whenever he tried to pry me off.

I felt more than saw how his arm went behind his back, and a second of warning from my Spidey Sense was all the hint I needed to grab him by the jacket and thorw him back, just as he pulled a knife and swung down with it in a stabbing grip, missing my neck but carving a line down my shoulder.

“Hahh... okay... so you’re big... and you fight kinda good...” Red Asshole panted, adjusting his grip on the knife while I inspected the wound—which was not liking being exposed to tear gas, by the way. “Where the hell did a random soldier like you learn your moves?”

“Los saque de la concha de tu hermana,” I replied, before falling into a coughing fit because I spoke while in a cloud of tear gas.

{[X]}

“Real classy,” Farah rolled her eyes.

“Hm? What did he say?” Yua asked.

“‘I got them from your sister’s cunt’,” Billy smirked.

A lot of people looked at me with disappointment.

“Hey, I didn’t make Argentinean cussing like this,” I defended myself. “Anyways...”

{[X]}

Honestly, he was rocking my shit for a minute.

He really knocked me the fuckaround, this man was throwing spinning bird kicks and fucking hadoukens my way. It wasn’t Cass-level, which is why I’m still alive, but I’d say it was about Batman-level.

My man actually did that Drunken Master 2 move where he stood on his hands and kicked at me repeatedly. It was fucking awesome.

Didn’t help much when I kicked him in his stupid fucking helmet, grabbed his foot and swung him like a hammer against the wall, but I was very impressed doing it.

Anyways, while he was climbing out of the dent in the wall, I looked around at the damage.

Slashes and dents on most of every wall, my couch was flipped open and was surrounded by its stuffing. The wires and green board thingies had splurted out of my television and decorated the wall behind it, the floor had a disturbing mix of our blood and clothes covering it, and there was still a lot of tear gas trapped in the room, making every action a dozen times harder to do.

Even my enhanced stamina was getting drained from a lack of proper breathing.

On the upside, my nose hadn’t been broken again, and I didn’t think I was going to have any more scars on my face, letting me mantain my rank as a solid five outta ten.

{[X]}

“Aw, dude,” said Alice, actually not frowning at me for once. “Don’t say that, you’re a solid seven!”

“Or like an eight, honestly,” said Steph, bumping my shoulder and smiling at me affectionately.

“Ten,” Billy and Cass said in unison. Everyone looked at Billy, except Cass, who hadn’t stopped pacing this entire time.

“Thanks, guys,” I said, smiling at them affectionately.

Then, still smiling, I turned and looked at Farah

“He’s a six,” she said, sounding genuinely baffled by everyone. “And that’s at best.”

“Like after a couple shots?” I asked.

“Right, or like if I think about how much money you have.”

“Right, those are the two and a half I didn’t count,”  I nodded.

“Ah,” Yua nodded, pressing her fist into her upturned palm. “That makes sense.”

“You guys are dicks,” Alice muttered.

“You guys are crazy,” Farah replied.

“Love makes you blind,” I sighed, still smirking.

Yua’s eyes widened and she hurried to say, “We do love you, boss!”

“Eh,” said Farah.

“Farah!” said Yua, scandalized.

“I love you guys too,” I said, smiling, before clapping my hands. “Now! I feel like we got sidetracked…”

{[X]}

In any case, this Lord Helmet motherfucker had run me pretty ragged. My t-shirt and apron had been cut into ribbons and I’d torn it off a while ago, leaving me just in my pants and chanclas.

He wasn’t doing that much better, after I’d flung him over my shoulder and ripped up his jacket, leaving him with only a kevlar vest covering his chest. This let me see all the bruises I’d left over his arms.

The pain didn’t seem to slow him down, and the helmet was filtering out all the gas so he was breathing easier, but I could still tell he was tired. He was sweating hard, and there was a bit of a slouch to him now.

Still, I could tell he had more fight left in him, so I stopped gawking like an idiot and got ready for an attack.

Seeing that seemed to snap him out of the post-wall-embedment funk, and he got ready as well.

He was about to charge me again when my sixth sense rang up again. Not from him, but something out of the corner of my left eye.

I jumped back just as Spoiler burst through my window, sending glass flying everywhere. Some of it cut into Fuckhead’s arms, but again he didn’t react beyond lifting his arm to protect his neck.

Spoiler landed on my coffee table and immediately jumped off of it, hands stretched forward as she jumped through the air and slammed her whole weight into Red Dickhead, slamming him into the floor.

Both knees on his arms, pinning them in place, she punched the helmet, splitting her gloves and knuckles open as she slowly cracked his helmet.

Red pulled his arm free and swiped with his knife, but she jumped away with a backflip and landed atop the overturned couch with grace she earned through lessons with the Robins and Cass.

It was a pretty impressive entrance, honestly.

I responded appropriately.

“C’mon, man!” I said, between fits of coughing. “My–koff, koff–my fhuckin’ window too?! You–koff–couldn’t just open it?!”

“Oh, thank you, Spoiler,” she mocked, kept safe from the gas by her Tim-modded mask. “Very kind of you to come help me in my hour of need. You’re my hero.”

I rolled my eyes and scratched my nose with my middle finger in her direction.

Red looked between us, before scoffing, “Amazing. Old man’s gotta be slippin’ if he lets a crooked vigilante in his city.”

“Crooked?!” Steph said, fist tightening until her gloves creaked. “I am going to beat the stuffing out your ears!”

“Wh–koff–what she said,” I croaked. Finally, some of the gas was leaving out the hole that was previously a window. Not enough fresh air to overturn all the damage already done, though.”

“Bring it.”

So we brought it.

{[X]}

“... and after a bit more scuffle, he kicked Steph through the door, I dropkicked him through drywall, he threw me on the floor and was about to stomp on my windpipe when Cass arrived and basically stopped the whole fight,” I said. “It was awesome, she stopped the stomp dead on its tracks with her own foot, and then she Karate Kid Crane Kicked him in the face. It was like a fuckin’ anime.”

Cass slowed down enough in her pacing to smile at me, still behind her mask despite it not being necessary in the present company.

Bruce hadn’t been happy when I told Alice his identity, but she was basically part of my inner circle even if she chose to be more hands-off with the Stringers. I needed her to be aware and informed if she was to be effective. What happened if a Bat needed medical attention and the cave was too far away? Every additional point of help for them was worth the risk, even if Bruce couldn’t see it.

“So yeah,” I said. “She knocked him around for a while, he threw a knife at me, I dodged, and then he ran out of there. The knife dropped a mic into the part of my wall it stabbed through, but I fished it out.”

“Guess that practice Bats gave you was good for something,” Farah noted.

“Yeah, thanks for that, by the way.”

Alice, who was throwing away her gloves, frowned and turned around, “Wait, who are you talking to?”

“Us,” said Batman, finally letting us know he’d been in the room for a while. Some-fuckin’-how.

Everyone except Billy, Cass and I flinched a bit at his appearance, but the only one that remained freaked out was Alice.

Ignoring her, Batman turned to look at me and wordlessly raised an eyebrow.

“I figured you’d find out and snoop in while I explained,” I shrugged. “Seemed like a ‘you’ thing to do.”

“Hrm,” he said, before turning to look at Spoiler. “You two are fine, then?”

“Should be,” I said.

“Alice checked us for poison,” Steph added. “Seems he didn’t think he’d need it.”

“Why would you assume he’d use poison?” asked Farah.

I turned to look at Cass, who’d stopped pacing when her dad’s appearance made the room feel smaller. She returned the look, then turned to her father and said, “Moved like… League.”

“Justice League?” asked Alice.

“League of Assassins,” Billy corrected. “Ancient ninja order, ‘bout as old as Jesus, maybe older, I dunno. They brushed with Goonion stuff from time to time.”

“The Demon’s Head was all for his ninjas unionizing, right?” I asked. “I never figured out why that didn’t go through.”

“Mm, turns out he was ‘all for it’ because the entire cult was raised not to demand shit from their glorious leader,” Billy said, rolling his eyes.

“Aw, sonuvabitch! He pulled a Cult of Kobra on us?” I said. “What an asshole!”

“Yeah, we got him back in the negotiations, though,” Billy smirked. “He’s gotta pay out the nose to use Goonion resources and earned use of a Pit of Lazarus is still in talks.”

“You talked Ra’s into letting you use one of his Pits?” Batman asked, disbelieving.

“Oh, fuck no!” said Billy. “His daughter, on the other hand, was actually willing to negotiate with us. The parameters of what ‘earning’ a resurrection are still being hashed out after years, but still.”

Bruce sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, before looking at me. “What can you tell me about this intruder? Besides him fighting like a League Assassin?”

And here was my dilemma. Did I play it safe and not show more knowledge than what might be expected from my dull self, or did I come out and prepare the Bats for Jason’s dramatic reveal?

“He also fought like a Bat.”

I didn’t say it was a tough dilemma.

Bats blinked, “What?”

“Disappearing in a cloud of gas, tricks everywhere, modern armor instead of that ancient shit the League uses, the mic’d knife trick… that’s all out of your playbook,” I said. “And if he fights like one of yours, and he has League tricks… you heard what he’s dressed like, right? Red helmet? There used to be a guy like that around before, right? When I was real little?”

Batman– no, Bruce’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. But he still answered. “The Red Hood.”

“... one of the leading theories about Joker’s identity is that he was one of the people that played the part, right?”

This time, he didn’t answer.

“So if he’s got your playbook, maybe he’s doin’ the thing where you wrap yourself in what you fear, right?” I said, and now I could see understanding entering the eyes of the people around me. Pretty much everyone in the room had learned the story behind that particular death in the family. “I know it’s distasteful, but… I think we both someone that knows your moves, has a reason to fear the Joker and a way he could be connected to the L–”

“You’re reaching.”

I frowned, “You won’t even consider it?”

“No, because it’s a ridiculous idea.”

“It’s unpleasant. You should be asking yourself if it’s accurate.”

“It isn’t, because the evidence is flimsy,” he instantly replied. “You don’t know that he fights like me. For all we know, he’s just a copycat with a few good moves.”

“Bruce–”

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s your fuckin’ name, dickhead,” I snapped. I think this surprised him, as he usually had to push a lot more before one of his kids snapped back at him. Using his flinching, I continued, “I don’t want to make you consider this. I truly do hope that I’m wrong. But you and I both know that just hating a theory is not a good enough reason to gamble Gotham’s future.”

“Some future.”

“We both know you don’t really believe it’s okay for crime lords to die. Not when they could be facing justice,” I said. “That’s not how the code works. If you could stand aside and let people be hurt, we wouldn’t be here.”

“How do you know how the code works?” he scoffed.

“She taught me.”

And there I had him. Because if anyone understood the code, it was her.

He had to recognize my point there. And doing that opened the door in his brain past the wall of denial that let him consider that maybe, just maybe, his deepest wish had been granted in the worst way possible, in a way truly befitting of his troubled life.

Bruce closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out in a slow sighed. Cass, knowing when she was needed, walked closer and took her father’s hand.

He stood still for a moment, before smiling sadly at Cassie. She pulled off her mask and gave a sad smile back.

He looked at her for a moment, then his smile slowly faded.

Cass blinked.

He looked at her, then at me as he tilted his head my way. He raised an eyebrow at her.

Cass hesitated, then nodded.

Bruce’s body slumped, ever so slightly, before Batman took another deep breath and nodded.

“I’ll look into it,” he promised.

“Thanks,” I said. “And… I’m sorry.”

“Mm,” he replied, already heading for the door. He must’ve been really shaken if he wasn’t vanishing while someone else talked. “I’m… glad you weren’t seriously hurt. Either of you.”

I nodded and saw Steph give a thumbs up out of the corner of my eye.

He walked out, and the room descended into silence.

“What now, boss?” Yua finally asked. “Do we hunt down this Red Hood?”

“... no. I want you and Billy to spread the word about what he’s doing and get everyone ready for it. Stringers or not.”

“You want us to warn the Blackgaters too?”

“I want everyone ready,” I decided. “... even Black Mask, but don’t let him know the warning came from us.”

“Planning something?” Alice asked, already frowning.

“Sionis isn’t the kind to let a challenge go unanswered. He killed enough Stringers to prove it,” I said, rubbing my chin. “So… we take advantage of a little conflict between our enemies.”

“So much for the enemy of your enemy being your friend,” Alice pointed out. “Is this really how you wanna play it?”

“The enemy of my enemy is nothing more than another tool against our enemies,” I said.  “Besides, both of them want to kill me. What am I gonna do, make one of them my bestie?”

“You might have to, if Red’s Jason,” Steph noted. “I mean… we’re gonna try to help him, right?”

I frowned, then rolled my neck and sighed, “I mean… I’m not opposed to helping him, but you can’t save someone that doesn’t wanna be saved, y’know?”

“Still…” said Steph.

“We owe it,” Cass cut in. We all turned to look at her, standing with her back against the corner and her arms folded. “To dad.”

“... that we do,” I said. “Fair enough, so spread the word that Red Hood’s treatment gets an upgrade from ‘non lethal’ to ‘non permanent’.”

“Got it,” said Yua. “What will you and Farah do?”

I worried at my lip, before looking at Farah, “Can we move the trip closer?”

She blinked, surprised, “Wh– The trip?.”

“Yeah.”

“I… I thought you’d cancel, with everything.”

“No need, just gotta do it sooner if possible. Things’re gonna get messy soon, so the faster we work the better.”

I leaned in, looking her in the eye.

“Can we do this tonight? Otherwise, it might be too late.”

She licked her lips, eyes flickering as she thought it over, before nodding, “If we get some stuff from my apartment, we can go tonight.”

“Good,” I said, standing up. “Alice, I need a shirt.”

“We’re out,” she reported, shrugging. “Had some homeless that needed new clothes pass by.”

“Shit, okay,” I said, turning to Billy and raising an eyebrow.

He nodded and started taking off his t-shirt.

“Seriously?” Alice deadpanned, “The literal clothes off your back.”

“He’ll pay me back,” Billy shrugged, tossing me the shirt. “Plus, he always uses the good softener before he gives them back.”

“How often do you do this?” Steph asked.

I looked at Billy as I put on the shirt. Billy looked at me.

“... ‘bout often enough that we can say we share a wardrobe.”

“You know I won’t be mad if you marry Billy,” Cass deadpanned, finally coming out of her head since she laid eyes on Red Hood.

I smiled and flipped her off, ignoring how Billy sighed dramatically.

“Anyways. Billy, Yua, you guys came in your cars? Which one of you picked up Farah?”

“I was at Billy’s, we rode here together,” said Yua. “Farah’s taxi just happened to arrive at the same time as us.”

“Alright then. Billy, Yua, you guys take Farah to her apartment then head to do what I asked. Farah, get your stuff and wait for me to pick you up. I’ll drive back to my apartment, settle any questions about why my apartment ended up fulla holes, get some stuff, and pick you up. Any complaints?”

They shook their heads, so I nodded and looked at Cass, who was already smiling sadly at me.

[Sorry, beautiful,] I signed.

[Don’t worry,] she signed back. [What are you and Smart going to do?]

[That’s private, sorry,] I signed.

[So definitely criminal.]

I snorted, and she smiled under her mask.

“What about me?” asked Steph, making me turn around.

I shrugged, “Talk to Robin and Bats? Plan? I’m not your boss, Steph.”

She frowned, but slowly nodded.

“You want a ride to the apartment? Your mom must be–”

“If she doesn’t like it, she can deal,” Steph cut me off, standing up. “If I were you, I wouldn’t worry so much about someone that isn’t going to change their mind about you.”

“... if you were me,” I countered.

She ignored me, walking off. Raising my eyebrows briefly, I gestured with my head and everyone walked out, except Alice and I.

Once we were alone, she said, “Eager to give me work?”

“I’ll put up some stronger security.”

“That’s not the issue. But it is appreciated.”

“Then what is?”

“This guy, Red Hood, he’s… a former Bat?”

“The Robin that died. The second one. The one he never got over,” I said. I shrugged, then said, “Plus some time with ancient monastic assassins.”

“And… you think you can take this guy?”

“I was holding back not to reveal I’m Spider and he took me by surprise. And he still failed.”

“Because you had help.”

“Then I’ll make sure to always have backup.”

“That can fail.”

“It can, but that doesn’t mean it will.”

“Now’s a bad time to grow some optimism.”

“Well, it’s not like I can choose not to fight the guy,” I pointed out. “He’s already coming for my head.”

“Maybe you can compromise?”

“Oh, like I’ll just be a bit decapitated?”

“Don’t mouth off at me,” she snapped. I raised a hand, apologetic, and she continued, “Like, maybe you can negotiate so you step back from Gotham and he doesn’t kill you?”

I blinked, “If I did that, no one would respect me. I’d have no place in the Game.”

“Maybe… that’s for the best?” Alice hedged.

I made to answer, then my teeth clacked together as I closed my mouth, mind swirling.

Slowly, I said, “Are we really having this argument again?”

“... no,” Alice sighed. Then, again and a little louder, she repeated, “No. No we are not. I… I have to accept that you can’t save someone that doesn’t want to be saved. Like you said.”

I twitched a little, then sighed. “Alice… you don’t have to be here.”

“I know. I want to, though.”

“Then can you please stop trying to talk me out of this?”

“No,” she said. “You need someone that tells you that what you’re doing is fucked.”

“That’s Farah’s job.”

“Farah is as deep in it as the rest of you. Her shocking amounts of common sense don’t counteract that.”

My lips pressed into a tight line. After a moment, I settled on honesty as the best way forward, “I don’t think I can go forward with someone I trust constantly telling me to quit.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be doing something that has someone you trust constantly telling you to quit.”

I tilted my head, granting the point, before stepping forward.

“Send the bill and buy some more clothes on my credit,” I said, pulling out my phone and checking the time. “If you can get second hand and in good condition, better, but don’t be afraid to spend on new. How are you doing on medication?”

Alice gave me a flat stare, before rolling her eyes and saying, “I already asked for everything I was running low on.”

“Scalpels, anesthesia, security?”

“All good.”

“I’ll get you some extra anyways,” I decided.

“Sure,” Alice sighed, smiling a bit despite herself.

“You’ll call if anything happens?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” I said, nodding. “I’ll be going, then.”

“Take care, Sammy,” she said. “Consider a career change.”

“No.”

“Mm,” she said, then gestured towards her door.

I obliged and walked out, where Cass was waiting.

In any other relationship, I would’ve been worried about my girlfriend getting the wrong picture from a long emotional talk with my ex. But I knew that ship had sailed, and because I knew that I knew, Cassie knew. So I had nothing to worry about.

Dating a mind reader has benefits.

She walked over and wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me down to press her forehead against mine.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“You saw it too?”

“League and Bat. Pain didn’t touch him. Matched recordings. Has to be… didn’t know how to say.”

“I get it,” I pulled back a bit and held her against my chest, running my fingers through her hair. “Plans?”

“Gather information, set a trap, confront,” she listed out. “Might ask Tim for help.”

“He’s still with Young Justice in New York, right?” I asked. At her nod, I frowned and said, “Actually, I’ll give him a call on the way home. If this is the second… he might have a grudge against the third.”

“... from what I heard, Jason was… kind. Um… brash? But kind. Cared for other Crime Alley kids.”

My mouth twitched, thinking about the person I’d just fought in my apartment. Her eyes went sad at my skepticism before I said anything.

She rested her forehead against my chest for a moment, and I scratched her scalp in the way she liked.

“... he’s my brother,” Cass whispered.

“And that’s why I’m going to smack some sense into him next time I see him, mi amor,” I promised, bending down to press a kiss to her head. “After I’m done with him, he’s going to attend every ballet recital for the rest of your natural lives.”

She chuckled a bit, pulling up the bottom of her mask and looking up to press a kiss to my lips. “Thank you… amor.”

Fuck. Three fucking years of dating and it still hit me every time that she was trying to learn Spanish for me, even with her difficulties with language.

With the exception of Billy, no one had ever learnt a language just out of love for me. And when I knew just how hard it was for her, between dyslexia and David Cain’s relentless tomfuckery, it hit especially hard.

I pressed a kiss to her mouth, remembered we were probably blocking the way for Alice to get out of the room, and pulled back, smiling like an idiot.

“We’ll talk soon,” I said.

“Soon?”

“Soon,” I promised. “Date night’s gonna happen no matter what.”

She smiled, before it turned into a smirk and she leaned in to whisper, “I’ll make it special.”

A shiver ran up my spine. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I saw her mask shift like she’d winked at me, then she walked around and out of my line of sight.

As befitting the courteous boyfriend of a ninja, I looked away so that when I turned my head, she was already vanished. I made sure to gasp dramatically, I knew they liked getting those reactions when they pulled that trick.

I knocked on the door twice to let Alice know it was fine to come out, made a mental note to do something nice for her while I walked out, then got in the car.

I had a busy night and a busier morning ahead of me.

{[X]}

Driving to my apartment, getting my clothes and driving back over to Farah’s to pick her up was a fairly quick and easy affair.

Being stopped and interviewed by my neighbors, who were aware and extremely alarmed by my destroyed apartment, torn-down door and recently-acquired bandages, was not. Quite a few were worried about me, which was touching, but most were more concerned about danger to them.

I assured them that I’d be staying out of the building until whatever this was was cleared, and that I’d look into a legitimate security company to keep the building safe for the foreseeable future. This quickly soothed raised tempers, with one notable exception.

Crystal Brown had not warmed back up to me the slightest bit since Spoiler revealed her identity to her. While Steph and Tim had pointed out that Steph was willing to go out and do hero shit beforeI got involved, she was still mad that I’d put in no effort to stop her. And she was right to.

As it stood, I’d earned quite a few glares during early morning brushes, replacing the previous awkward smiles. It was sad, but that’s life.

She grilled me a bit about trouble following me home, but eventually she had to let go, leaving me to go up to my apartment.

I took a moment to inspect the damage while I was there, using my latino heritage to guesstimate how long it would take some workers to fix up everything, plus what it’d cost to replace furniture, appliances and my beloved iron skillet, which had been dented into nigh-uselessness after too many blocked shots.

I changed into some discreet work clothes, pocketed a balaclava, lifted up a bit of the floor I’d cut open to pull out a few tools of the trade, then carried it all to my car, which I drove to Farah’s.

She left a few things at the foot of the back seat, and then I started driving us, out of town and westward, towards Missouri.

The start of the drive was spent chatting about mindless shit, jobs we had pending, stuff like that. But after a couple hours on the road, conversation topics were thin on the ground and arrived at random, unexpected moments.

There had been nothing but silence–not counting the radio, which had somehow landed on a country station–for about a half hour when Farah looked over at me and said, “What’s your favorite kind of bird?”

“... Boobies, I’d say.”

“Hurr hurr, c’mon, I’m serious.”

“So’m I. Blue-Footed Boobies, best kind of bird there is. They’re just so goofy looking.”

“Huh.”

There was a moment where her face was illuminated by her cellphone, white light drawing out the contours of her face in the gloom of the night.

I turned my attention forward and saw how the yellow light exposed the road ahead of us, brack gravel smoothed out and deformed by countless vehicles and worn down by countless storms. Distractedly, I started humming along to the song, my mind in that trance-like state of having been focused on a task for a really long time.

The joint on the dashboard had gone dead a while ago, and the cigarette held between my fingers against the wheel was stretching a tip of ash that dangled dangerously over my jeans.

“I’ll be damned,” said Farah, drawing my attention back to her. “Those are some goofy-lookin’ birds.”

“Yup. So what’s your favorite bird?”

“Penguins for me.”

“How come?”

“Jus’ like ‘em.”

“Mm.”

There was a moment of silence. Farah started muttering the lyrics to the song, as if knowing them by memory. I responded by singing along a little louder, and soon we were both calmly going along to the song.

“I won’t tell anyone you like country if you keep quiet about me liking country.”

“Deal.”

““Like a Rhine-stone Cowboy~””

We sang in disharmony for the rest of the song. Farah seemed convinced that the song was 1.6 times faster than it was, I couldn’t hold a note in an olympic pool, and our voices cracked every so often as the pot smoke burnt our throats.

Despite heading into trouble once more, I had to say that I was pretty happy with the situation.

Eventually, the song wound down, and the DJ spoke with a low voice that had an inexplicable Sam Elliot accent, “That was ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’ from the master himself, Glen Campbell, may he rest in peace. And to keep the theme going, here is… Southern Nights, by the very same man.”

“... just checking, we’re still in New Jersey, right?” I asked, looking over at Farah. “I didn’t fall asleep on the wheel and drove us to Texas, right?”

“I mean, no one’s tried to shoot us, and we’re a Mexican and a black woman. We should be in the clear.”

“Argentinean.”

“Whatever.”

She offered the joint that we’d been passing during the sing-along, but I waved her off, so she put it out on her tongue and left it back on the dash.

“That’s so gross,” I complained. “You could just lick your finger and press it to the tip like a reasonable person.”

“Is that what you do with Billy? Lick your finger and press it to the tip?”

I stared at her for a moment.

“... how do you think gay sex works?”

“Shut up, it made sense in my head.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m asking.”

“Zip it.”

I started imitating Billy’s voice, “Oh yeah, press it to my tip. Yeah, press it hard.”

“I will jump out of this car, don’t think I won’t.”

I chuckled. She punched me in the arm, right over a cut, but I pretended it didn’t hurt so she wouldn’t feel bad.

After a while, she spoke up.

Not looking at me at all, head resting on hand resting on elbow resting on car door, cigarette between lips, she asked, “Why haven’t you asked?”

“Didn’t think it was my place.”

“I’m getting you involved, of course it’s your space.”

“Still. This is clearly personal.”

“Well, you’re personal. I mean, you, like, you have a spot there. In my life. You have access to these things, and… I’d like it if you used it.”

“... why are we robbing S.T.A.R. Labs, Farah?”

“... we’re not robbing the lab. We’re robbing two people in there.”

“Okay. So who are we robbing?”

“Doctors Brian and Farah Kane.”

“Oh.”

“... yeah.”

“... so you’re a junior?”

“Yup.”

“Neat. Way to break the glass ceiling.”

“Of being named junior?”

“Yeah, it’s only ever guys named junior.”

“... huh. You know, I never thought about that, but yeah.”

“Good for you.”

“I guess,” Farah shrugged. After a moment of silence during which I started another cigarette, she said, “Anyways, my parents were horribly abusive.”

The smoke went down too hard and I coughed so hard the car swerved a bit, which I quickly corrected as I pounded my chest.

“Christ, Farah!”

“What?!”

“I– are you okay?!”

“Well, no, obviously.”

“I, yeah, I guess that was a dumb question,” I said, slightly bewildered. “But, um, are you fine telling me–”

“Oh, they just constantly compared me against my brother and punished me when I did better, called me names, refused to feed me if they got mad at me, that kinda stuff.”

“Huh. You, uh, you sound…”

“Calm about it?”

“Detached.”

“... I guess I am. I just don’t dwell on it. It’s in the past.”

“Mm.”

“What?”

“... is it my place to say?”

“Always.”

“You know the medical plan involves psychological and psychiatric help, right?”

“I don’t need a shrink, Sam.”

“I believe you!” I said, racing my hands in a gesture of surrender, “But just in case it turns out we’re both wrong, I want you to know that the option is available to you.”

“... fine.”

“Okay?”

“I said fine.”

“Good,” I said, nodding. “So, we’re robbing the fuckers. Cool. You said the thing we’re taking is easy to carry?”

“Yeah. It’s information. Everything they’ve been working on for the past couple years.”

“Is this like a targetted thing or more of a ‘fuck ‘em let’s take everything they worked on’ thing.”

“Yes. They started working on something I really liked since a little before we met. And now they’re finally getting somewhere interesting, so I figured I might as well fetch it for myself.”

“And you know this because…?” I asked, eyes turning in her direction.

She smiled at me.

“... you’d think a place like S.T.A.R. Labs would have better cybersecurity,” I muttered, focusing back on the road. As I took a hard turn, I asked, “What are you gonna do with the data?”

“They’ll have backups, so… either destroy it or sell it, whichever’s most useful to us. The point is to make it so that they’re not the ones that give that knowledge to the world, and that they know it.”

“So we’re going loud?”

“Very.”

I nodded. “I can do loud.”

“I know you can.”