It did not take long for news of Roy Harper’s activities to reach the papers. In the weeks following his first night out, headlines began to pop up, all postulating about the mysterious masked vigilante that some referred to as Robin Hood, who was cleaning up the streets using naught but a bow and arrow, rarely seen in the same garb twice.
Roy himself had no better substitute for the name, but some part of him- his deepest self- was beginning to recognize that his moonlight activities were not merely a passing fancy, and that he was well approaching a crossroads.
He’d learned, though his nighttime endeavors, that the drug Jick had referred to was called Crave- and that it was a killer. Everyone who’d gotten involved had turned up dead by the warehouses.
But he couldn’t think about that now. Today, all he could worry about was the impending visit of Kathy Fisher- Lian’s social worker.
“How we doin’ in there, kiddo?” he asked, knocking on the bathroom door.
“Almost done!”
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
He walked in to find that the bubble bath had not completely drained from
the bathtub, and that while Lian was fully dressed, her hair was still damp, and starting to curl into little ringlets.
“Great job, Lian. You scrub behind your ears?”
“Yes.”
“With soap?”
She made a face. “Yes, but I didn’t like it, and I’m never gonna do it again.”
He laughed. “We’ll see about that. Now, when Ms. Fisher comes, there are a few that maybe we shouldn’t talk about. Like you staying out late at the Ace o’ Clubs sometimes.”
“But won’t that be lying?”
“Well, it’s a sort of a white lie,” Roy mumbled, uncomfortable.
Lian thought about this for a moment.
“Roy?”
“Yeah?”
“Lies come in colors?”
He gave her a small smile. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo.”
A knock on the door made them both look up.
“One second!” he called to the door. Swinging Lian up and over his head so that she was riding on his shoulders, he made his way to the front of the apartment.
Lian giggled when he leaned his head down to look through the peephole. Seeing Kathy, he unlatched the deadbolt and let her inside. She was young for her profession, still lacking the tell-tale wrinkles and bags around her face that showed the stresses, and her short blonde hair was still mostly free of gray.
“Good afternoon, Mister Harper,” she greeted with a terse smile, before beaming up at his sister. “And how are we today, Lian? Just took a bath, I see.”
She nodded, and Roy let her down. “I’ll leave you lovely ladies to talk. Ms. Fisher, can I get you anything? Coffee? A peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”
“Can I have one, Roy?” Lian asked, looking up at him.
He grinned, “I’ll share one with you so you don’t ruin your dinner, okay?” He turned to the case worker. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
“Roy makes real good PB & J’s,” Lian supplied.
“Well alright then, I’ll have one, too. But just a half, so I don’t ruin my dinner,” she said with a smile.
Roy nodded, and left the two alone.
“Do you always take a bath after school, sweetie?”
Lian shrugged. “Only sometimes. I did today cuz we did finger painting in school and I got some on me. Roy made me scrub behind my ears.”
“What else does Roy make you do?”
“Lotsa stuff. He makes me eat my broccoli and take my vitamins and listen to Oliver and sometimes Allison when Roy can’t watch me.”
“And what does Roy do?”
“He makes me sammiches and tells me stories and sings at bedtime. Sometimes we go to the park on the weekends and look at the doggies. I want a puppy, but Roy won’t let me get one. He says the superinter… the sup…”
“The superintendent?”
“Yeah, Roy says he wouldn’t like that. I still want one, though.”
“Sounds like you and Roy have a pretty good time.”
“Yup. At school Kimmy Nguyan sometimes complains about her big brother, but I like mine. Roy’s nice.”
“Okay, ladies, PB & J’s are up!” Roy called, coming back into the living room.
“Lovely. Lian, would you mind taking yours into the kitchen? I need to talk to Roy for a few minutes.”
“’Kay,” she shrugged, grabbing her sandwich half and wandering off. Roy smiled as he watched her go.
“Well, Roy, you seem to be doing a very good job. I was skeptical I’ll admit, but… she’s well cared for, I can see that.”
“Thanks, I… everything goes to her, I want you to know that. You know my working status, and I know I don’t make as much each month as you’d prefer, but everything goes to her.”
“I know, Roy. And I’ll see you next month.”
-
Babs used to love walking around in New York. She loved her city, she loved the sights and the smells, loved the feeling of accessibility.
Having to negotiate ramp-less curbs in a wheelchair, however, was somewhat zapping her joy at the experience.
After what seemed like forever, she got herself inside the door of the nearest Starbucks, and wheeled over to Matt’s table.
“Hey, Babs,” he greeted her general direction, “your left wheel if squeaking a bit. You should oil that when you get back home. Took the liberty of ordering for you—hope you like mochas.”
She smiled and took the cup from his hands, hoping he wouldn’t notice her hands were shaking a little.
“It’s good to see you again. How’re you doing?”
“Crippled. You?”
“Same. Quite a pair, aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” she murmured, and the table settled into an uncomfortable silence. Babs held her coffee close to her chest and sipped slowly, hoping to fend off any more questions about her condition—she didn’t know if she could laugh off another one.
“So…” Matt drawled in an effort to fill the silence, “how ‘bout them Yankees?”
She lit up. “Did you watch the game the other day?”
He shook his head.
“Well, the Red Sox had the bases loaded and- oh you should have SEEN it-”
“Babs,” he said gently, “I can’t see anything.”
She froze, and the silence once again plagued the duo. She wanted to bang her head against the table, but fought the impulse.
Matt cleared his throat, and she groaned.
“Christ, Matt, I’m… that was a stupid thing to say.”
“It was a slip of the tongue, don’t apologize.”
“No, I- Matt, why are you doing this?”
“Doing… what?”
“Meeting me for coffee and all that. You’re… are we dating now? Is this a wheelchair thing?”
He shrugged. “I like you.”
“But why?”
He looked exceedingly uncomfortable. “Before you’re… before you were in the chair, you were very… vibrant. You were… you are… so alive, Babs. I didn’t have to see you to know you were smiling- I could hear it in your voice. And now… I don’t hear it anymore. I want to hear you smile again.”
“I… Matt…”
She reached out and grabbed at his hand. When he felt her fingers wrap around his, he squeezed, smiling a little.
“So now it’s your turn.”
“What?”
“Why do you like me, Babs? I told you. Turnabout’s fair play.”
She sighed. “I don’t know, I’m not very good with… I guess it’s because of your eyes. With your… with your eyes, it’s kind of like you’re the only one who sees me. Really sees me. You’re the only guy I know who could possibly understand what I’m going through right now. So, I…”
“That’s a hell of a thing to say,” he muttered with a frown, letting go of her hand, “you only like me because I’m blind?”
“No, I—that wasn’t what I was getting to at all!”
“No, no, I get it. You’re hot, Babs, you did gymnastics, you had all sorts of types after you. But now, we’re in the gimp club together, right? Scraping at the bottom of the barrel?”
“Matt-” she protested as he stood up abruptly, his cane knocking against the wood of the table.
“Matt, please, I-”
But he didn’t listen. He didn’t even turn around. Unsteady on his feet, he stalked out of the shop and down the block, a stony look on his face.
Babs found herself suddenly attempting to hold back tears. Blinking furiously, she made a grab for her cell phone.
“Hey, Peter? It’s Babs, from the other day. Do you, uh…. Do you want to hang out? … No, not to talk about Spider-Man, just to… yeah, just me. …really? Great! Now? Starbucks. Yeah…”
-
“I don’t know…” Tandy murmured, holding her elbow nervously as she stood in her clean, white costume, “it’s not exactly… modest.”
Tyrone groaned, adjusting his cloak. “If we’re gonna be of any use to Kingpin, we can’t do it as Tyrone Johnson and Tandy Bowen—you know that. Ty and Tandy are supposed to be dead, gone, run away, disappeared.”
“But why the hell should we have to be of use to Kingpin? He’s a criminal, Ty!”
“Cloak. Cloak. I’m Cloak, and you’re Dagger. And if we want any more Crave--”
“But I don’t! I just want to be done with this. I… god, I want to go home…”
“That isn’t in the cards. We need to stay where we are.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be a ‘we’ anymore.”
“Don’t you get it?” Ty asked roughly. “We NEED each other. We go our separate ways, and we die. You know how our powers work!”
She rubbed her elbow uncomfortably. “I know, I know, it’s just… I’m just a little scared.”
She turned away from him, hugging herself. Raising his hand, he made to touch her shoulder. Thinking better of it, Ty let his arm fall feebly back beneath his cloak.
-
Babs was looking pensively out onto the street when her cell phone rang. Smiling when she saw Peter’s name on the id, she picked up in an amiable manner.
“Hey, Peter, what’s taking you so long?”
There was static on the line, and his voice was oddly muffled, as though he were talking through cotton. “Listen, I’m running a little late, I’ll see you soon, I—I gotta go.”
He hung up abruptly, leaving Babs confused and anxious. All at once, however, there was an explosion in the street, tearing Babs’ attention back to the window.
Outside, Spider-Man was doing battle with a man in his mid-twenties who looked as though he’d been torn, kicking and screaming, from the swingin’ 60’s. Babs did a double-take when she realized that his red gloves were in the air on their own—he didn’t have any visible arms.
The fight lasted about ten minutes, and Babs all the while had her eyes glued on the street, drinking in the action, coffee completely forgotten. She cheered when Spidey got a hit in and, with the rest of the crowd, winced when he was jabbed in the eye, breaking right through his eye piece.
Ultimately, however, Spidey prevailed over his adversary- a certified nut that wanted to be called “The Love Glove-” and swung away.
Heaving a sigh of part relief and part angst, Babs returned to her mocha, and made a face when she tasted how cold and bitter it had become.
“Sorry I’m late, Babs, I couldn’t catch a cab and… well, hi,” Peter greeted, sitting in the chair Matt had previously occupied.
“It’s no problem Peter, Spider-Man came by and—what happened to your eye?!”
He gave an apologetic smile. “Dodgeball in gym class. My classmates can be very… competitive.”
Babs filed this information away for later before engaging Peter in conversation.
-
“’Arachnid Antagonist and Psychedelic Sycophant Terrorize Town,’” Oliver chuckled, reading the Bugle’s front-page headline the next morning. “What will they think of next, Roy?”
“Depends on who Spidey fights, I guess. Does anyone believe that junk?” Roy asked, rummaging through the supply closet. He mentally took a tally of all the equipment, making sure that he hadn’t forgotten to return anything the night before.
“Search me. Listen, I’ve got a bit of a problem, think you can help me?”
“What kind of problem?” Roy inquired, cringing when his voice cracked halfway through his sentence.
“It’s about a patient of mine.”
That was a close one. “Shoot.”
“Well, she’s been in physical therapy for… a few weeks, now, I suppose… but she hasn’t made any progress. Her dad says she’s doing fine in school, she’s socializing… but she totally closes off once we start our sessions. But thing is, before her accident, she was a gymnast. She should enjoy her sessions, right? But she gets tense the second she comes in the clinic. What am I doing wrong?”
Roy considered this a moment. “Maybe it isn’t you. Maybe… maybe it’s the clinic?”
Oliver looked taken aback. “The clinic is filled with people doing the exact same thing she is.”
“Exactly. I mean, she was a gymnast, right? If she’s doing the exercises herself, it’s different than if she sees a bunch of other disabled people doing the same. Whatever fantasy she had is shattered.”
“I think… I think I’ll take her to the Y for our next session. See if it helps. Thanks, Roy.”
-
“’Arachnid Antagonist and Psychedelic Sycophant Terrorize Town?!’” Babs read, outraged. “This is ridiculous!”
“You know, sweetheart,” Jim soothed, “you could spare yourself all this heartbreak and righteous fury if you stopped buying the Daily Bugle every morning.”
Babs only harrumphed, examining the cover, which was plastered with a giant photograph of the previous day’s fight. Babs’ eyes widened when she saw the byline as two and two came together in her head.
After school, she and Peter Parker needed to have a little talk.
-
“I hate coming back here again. Isn’t there anywhere else we could go?” Dagger asked, shivering as the Darkforce Dimension deposited her in the warehouse she’d recently become so familiar with.
“Kingpin’s shipments are being delivered here tonight, and we’re overseeing the transaction to make sure there’s no funny business,” Cloak muttered.
“I know what the mission was, Cloak, I’m not an idiot. But doesn’t it seem stupid to you that he does all of his deals in the same place? Someone’s going to catch on eventually.”
“Lightning never strikes in the same place.”
“Gee, you want to vague that up for me? I don’t think you were enough with the cryptic the first time around.”
“A crime already happened here. People don’t expect one to happen again. And I saw that,” he shot as she stuck her tongue out at him. “All we have to do is make sure no one comes in here until midnight.”
Dagger took a seat on a large crate. “Well, color me bored. Only like a jillion more hours to go…”
-
Three o’clock could not have come soon enough for Peter Parker. He had spent the day making up excuses for his black eye, and had no expectations greater than going home, taking a leisurely nap, doing his homework, and perhaps taking a swing around the city.
He was, of course, understandably surprised to find Barbara Gordon waiting for him on the front lawn after the final bell.
“Babs! Shouldn’t you be…? Why aren’t you…? I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you, but…”
“We had a half day today. We need to talk.”
“Okay, what’s-”
“No, I mean…” she looked around the crowded area, “…privately.”
Peter grew serious. “Sure, follow me.”
Peter weaved easily through the throng of students, leaving Babs to part them like the Red Sea in her wake. He led them to a secluded clump of trees just off campus, shaded and well away from any other teens.
“We shouldn’t be interrupted here, hardly anyone ever comes out this far. What’s on your mind, Babs?”
“I… ugh. Now that I’m here, I…”
“What?”
“Peter…” Babs said slowly, “… are you Spider-Man?”
He laughed uncomfortably. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m not-”
“Peter,” she interrupted, “I’m not stupid. You were late meeting with me, and meanwhile Spider-Man was fighting some random villain. Spider-Man gets jabbed in the eye and you show up with a shiner. And today I see a photograph of the fight by you—a fight you couldn’t have been present for, if you couldn’t get a cab. So I’m going to ask you once more, and if I were you I’d think really hard before I answered. Are you Spider-Man?”
“… yes.”
They held there a moment in silence, before-
“I want to help you.”
“What?!”
She gave him a serious look. “You brought in the guy who killed my mom. I’m going to help you bring down the guy who killed you uncle. It’s fair, okay? Even Steven.”
Peter frowned, but nodded anyway. “Okay. Fine. So… now you know my big secret.”
“Yep.”
“Anything I should no about you? A secret life? Secret identity? A secret spy decoder ring, perhaps?”
“No, but I’m going to help you, I think I should get a code name.”
Peter gave her a hard look. “Absolutely not. I’m drawing the line there. This is a one time deal, okay?”
“Think about it! When you’re in the field, I could be getting you information you couldn’t possibly know otherwise. Two heads are better than one, and I’ve got enough equipment that I can have my eyes and ears on the whole city. All-seeing, all-knowing. Come on, Pete. Give me a codename.”
Peter sighed, but conceded defeat. “I… what do you know about the ancient Greeks?”
-
Night had fallen again over the city of New York, and Roy Harper was out again, bow and arrows equipped and ready.
He rummaged around in a familiar back alley, looking for clues. He knew it was a popular spot for dealers and junkies, and he was hoping to make some progress with the Crave mystery.
“Well, what have we here?” a voice growled behind him. He spun, drawing an arrow, but they were knocked from his hands by a burly thug. Behind him stood yet another cut from the same cloth, this one twirling a heavy metal chain menacingly.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble.”
The first thug laughed. “Hear that? Robin Hood here don’t want no trouble. Too bad he ain’t got any weapons!”
“Are you kidding me? Everything I touch is a weapon!” Roy yelled, grabbing a trashcan lid and tossing it Frisbee-style at his assailant. Hitting him in the forehead, the thug went down, leaving his chain-swinging accomplice.
“You really wanna try me? You’re talking to a human arsenal,” Roy advised. He stopped and blinked. “Actually, I kind of like that…”
He had to duck to avoid the hood’s wild flail of the chain.
“Watch it, you could put your eye out!”
“Shut up! Man, I’m gonna mess up your face so bad that not even yo momma’ll recognize ya!”
Ducking again, Roy swept out in a kick, knocking the mugger’s feet out from under him. Pinning him to the ground with his arm, Roy grabbed one of his dropped arrows, and held it menacingly over his attacker’s eye.
“Tell all of your friends that there’s a new hero in town. Name’s Arsenal. You heard of Spider-Man?”
The hood nodded, looking fearful.
“I’m worse. Arsenal. Remember it.”
Fashioning makeshift handcuffs out of the chain, Arsenal tied the two thugs together.
“And by the way?” he added to the still-conscious of the two, “Next time you mention my mother, I kill you.”
With that, he delivered a swift kick to the temple, knocking the mugger out.
Sighing, Arsenal went about picking up his dropped equipment, making sure nothing was broken or damaged, so that he could return it to the YMCA in the morning. He was just about finished when a shadow passed over his head and down the block.
He rushed out of the alleyway in time to see Spider-Man swing around a corner. Cursing and praying that Lian’s night be nightmare-free, he began to follow the agile hero.
-
“Oracle’s online,” Babs stated, adjusting her headset as she got settled at her computer. “How’s your Bluetooth working?”
“Ear bud’s working like a charm,” Spider-Ma acquiesced, swinging confidently. “You can’t even tell that I’m wearing it under the mask. Hey, what happens if your dad walks in on you helping me?”
“He’s working late at the station tonight.”
“B- Oracle. Are… are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Where else would we start? Besides, they always return to the scene of the crime. That’s classic villain psychology. Hold on, I’m hacking into the warehouse’s security feed. This place has firewalls like woah.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that this is no ordinary warehouse. Normally I could be in and out in seconds. This something of a challenge. Whoever is behind all this… they don’t want me to see what’s going on behind door number one. Where are you?”
“Coming up on it now. Let’s, uh.. let’s maintain radio silence while I take a look around, okay?”
“Okay. I’m almost there, anyway.”
Cautiously, Spider-Man made his way in through a window. Dropping to the ground, he examined his surroundings.
“You shouldn’t have come here!” Cloak roared, descending upon the hero. Spidey jumped out of the way, and was hit in the back hard by a beam of light from Dagger’s hands.
“Spider-Man?” Oracle asked frantically and he tried to shake off the shock. He wasn’t fast enough, however, and found himself engulfed in Cloak’s Darkforce Dimension.
“I’m sort of in trouble here, Oracle!” Spidey yelled, trying to escape the folds of Cloak’s mantle.
“Never fear!” a voice called out from the darkness as arrows shot out at the devious duo, “Brooklyn’s here!”
Arsenal jumped from a pile of boxes, shooting off another arrow at Dagger.
“Was that a Newsies reference?” Spider-Man inquired, finally landing a punch to Cloak’s jaw.
“Damn straight. I’m Arsenal.”
“Spider-Man.”
Arsenal laughed, and was promptly square in the chest by one of Dagger’s light beams.
“Soak ‘em!” he managed to say weakly as he stumbled back into the wooden crates. Another bolt caused the crate to burst, sending shrapnel across the warehouse and burying Arsenal in metal parts.
Spider-Man leapt away from Cloak, landing on a pillar a few yards back.
“Where’s Tyrone Johnson?” he demanded, dodging a beam from Dagger.
The duo froze.
“Who do you work for?” Cloak demanded coldly, Dagger moving closer to him.
“I don’t work for anyone but me! Now where do you have Tyrone Johnson?”
“You’re with him, aren’t you!” Dagger insisted, hurling a bolt at him, “You’re one of Kingpin’s useless flunkies!”
“Spider-Man…” Oracle chimed in nervously in his ear, but it was too late. The fuse had been lit.
Too angry to quip, or even to think, Spidey leapt at the two teens, fists flailing in every which direction. He tumbled straight into Cloak’s open arms, however—and right into his dark force dimension.
The ear bud connecting him to Oracle frizzled and cracked, giving nothing but static as he tried to force his way out.
Groaning, Arsenal grabbed at the closest thing to him- a piece of scrap metal. Using it as a cane, he righted himself- and then tossed the shrapnel at the unsuspecting Cloak with almost deadly accuracy, hitting the teen on the back of the head and granting Spider-Man the distraction he needed to escape.
“Ty!” Dagger called out, catching him as he fell back into her arms.
Spider-Man stopped. “Ty?”
In a short second, the cool steel end of one of Arsenal’s arrows was resting against Dagger’s temple.
“Explain, and explain fast,” he growled.
Looking as though she were about to cry, she removed Cloak’s hood, revealing the face of Ty Johnson.
Spidey knelt before the fallen teen. “Good god, Ty, what have they done to you?”
“How do you know who I am?” Ty demanded weakly.
Slowly, Spider-Man removed his mask, revealing the saddened face of-
“Peter? What… you’re Spider-Man?”
“You two know each other?” Arsenal asked, letting the string go slack. Tandy inhaled, not realizing until then that she’d been holding her breath the whole time the arrow had been on her.
“Don’t look at me,” she mumbled, “I’ve got no idea what’s going on here.”
“That’s a good question, actually,” Arsenal agreed. “What’s going on here… Peter?”
He sighed. “Ty, I don’t know if you know… Ben’s… dead.”
The look on his face clearly indicated that he had not known. “Mr. Parker’s… dead?”
Tears were starting to fall now. “They killed him, Ty. Ben went looking for you, and they shot him in the back.”
Suddenly, Ty’s blow to the head didn’t seem so very bad. He sat up, putting his hands on Peter’s sunken shoulders.
“Who did it, Peter? Who killed him?”
“Kingpin,” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper.
“Spider-Man!” Oracle roared in his ear, loudly enough that the rest of the group could hear her voice issuing from the tiny ear bud speaker. “Get that mask the hell back on! Just because I’m hacking these security cameras doesn’t mean they aren’t in use! For all we know, he can see you right now!”
Cursing, Spider-Man rose, putting his mask on in one swift action.
“What’s the plan, boss man?” Arsenal asked Spider-Man as Cloak replaced his hood.
“We take the battle to Kingpin.”
“And how do we do that?”
“Any way we can.”
“And how are we supposed to find him? A small detail, I’m sure, but…”
Spidey stopped walking. “What’s the plan, boss lady?” he asked the air.
At her desk 30 blocks away, Babs was typing away like a madwoman. “I’ve got nothing, Spidey. Why not ask your new friends?”
He almost slapped himself. “You know where Kingpin is?” he asked of the contrary partners.
Dagger grinned. “We thought you’d never ask.”
Reluctantly, Cloak held open his robe, revealing the darkness within. “Get in.”
-
Kingpin’s office was dark, which was usual, and empty, which was not, when the four teen heroes tumbled in from the swirling vortex of shadow that had deposited them there.
Or at least, it looked empty.
“It took you a bit longer than expected to come back to us. I take it, however, that you aren’t looking for another hit of Crave.”
Slowly, Kingpin entered from the shadows. “It’s no matter. The fact that you’ve brought friends, however, is a bit of a worry.”
“I’ll kill you-” Spider-Man started, getting a running start, but before he could blink, Kingpin was in shadows again.
“You’ll have to find me first,” his disembodied voice rung out. “And you’ll find that you’re not the only one who brought friends, Mr. Johnson.”
In seconds, the room was alive, ninja warriors melting from the shadows like a plague and descending on the heroes.
“Ninjas!” Arsenal laughed, incredulous. “Yes, this is totally what I need today. To fight ninjas.”
“They aren’t real!” Dagger exclaimed with a small shriek when one of her bolts caused her adversary to fritz and fizzle away into nothingness.
“They sure as hell feel real!” Spider-Man retorted, reeling from a kick.
“Something isn’t right here…” Cloak muttered. “Dagger. Shed some light on the matter, huh?”
“I’ve never tried anything that big before…”
“Stop kvetching and do something!” Arsenal roared, trying to fend off the swipe of a sword with his bow.
Tandy rubbed her palms together, concentrating. Bidden, the light tumbled from her, her fingers and toes, her head and her chest, and she screamed, the room bathed in unnatural, soul-searing light.
And then they were alone, with a little bald man in a business suit and bottle cap glasses, hiding in the corner and clutching at his heart.
“That’s Kingpin?!” Arsenal asked. “Seriously? He’s so… unthreatening.”
“He’s not Kingpin,” Cloak growled. “He’s a decoy.”
“Then where’s the real deal?” Spider-Man asked, picking the small man up by his lapels. “Where’s Kingpin?”
“P-p-p-please… you d-d-don’t find Kingpin… K-k-kingpin finds… you. I’m… I’m just a l-lackey, please… please, no more light.”
“What did you do to him, Tandy?” Cloak mused.
The blonde was clutching at her temples, wincing. “I have no idea. All I know is that I have the biggest migraine of all time.”
-
Jim Gordon stood silent and still on the roof of the police station, savoring the taste of cigarette smoke in his mouth.
He’d given up the habit years ago, but found the abstract, lurking threat of lung cancer pale and unimportant in the face of Babs’ paralysis.
“Captain Gordon?”
Jim jumped, a look of guilt on his face. He was surprised to find Spider-Man standing before him. Behind him was a tall, strapping young man who Jim recognized from the newspapers as the ‘Robin Hood’ of New York. In his arms was a trembling middle-aged man.
“This is Dr. Henry King. He’s connected to the murder of those 21 teens.”
Unceremoniously, the man was dumped at Gordon’s feet, and it was only then that Jim noticed that he was tied up in webbing.
“Don’t take my word for it, though. You’ll find the necessary information has been e-mailed to you, courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Teen Titans,” Spider-Man explained. He was standing at what could almost qualify as attention, his posture perfect in front of the seasoned policeman.
“Thank you, Spider-Man. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while.”
Spidey gulped. “You, uh… you have?”
“I owe you the proper gratitude. You saved my daughter’s life the other day.”
“I only wish I could have done more,” he said truthfully, visibly relaxing.
“You’ve already done so much. Why? Why do you do it, son?”
“I was always taught, Captain, that with great power comes great responsibility.”
Gordon looked impressed. “You’re a unique young man. And these… these Teen Titans, they share that responsibility?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then they have my full support.”
Spidey motioned towards the teen behind him, grinning beneath his mask. “This is Arsenal. We’re linked together by a third member via satellite.”
Jim nodded. “I’d better get King inside. Thank you, boys.”
Hoisting the doctor with a strength that defied his years, Gordon retreated down the service stairs and back into the station house.
Babs chimed in Spidey’s ears suddenly, laughing. “My dad likes you, you know.”
“I could have used that information like ten minutes ago. All-knowing my skinny white butt, Oracle.”
“The inner eye works in mysterious ways,” she replied cryptically. “What happened to Ty and Tandy?”
“They dropped us off on the roof and left. Who knows where they are now?”
“Think they’ll be okay? I mean, drug withdrawal…”
“They’ll get through it,” Arsenal muttered. “It’ll be hell, but if they have each other. They’ll be fine. And here’s a question: when did we decide to be the Teen Titans?”
“Um… just now.”
“It sounds so dorky! You couldn’t have picked something cooler?”
“Like what?”
“I dunno. Something like… Young Justice. Or… the New Warriors.”
“Oh, like those aren’t dorky?”
“They aren’t AS dorky. It’s a very subtle thing.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
“Girls, girls, you’re both beautiful,” Oracle interjected, stopping their bickering.
-
“…nine and ten. Good job, Babs, I guess moving you from the clinic to the Y was a good idea, after all,” Oliver smiled as they finished a set of exercises a few days later, the noises of the YMCA providing ample white noise.
“Let’s do one more, I know I have it in me,” she insisted, but he shook his head.
“No, I don’t want you to strain yourself. You’re coming along—Roy!”
“Hey Oliver, hey Babs.”
Babs blinked. “I’m sorry have… have we met?”
Roy sent her a disarming smile. “Just once, a few days ago, though a mutual friend. Peter Parker?”
A look of enlightenment crossed her face. “Roy! God, now I remember! It’s great to see you. Speak of the devil, I was gonna have Peter over for pizza tonight. Care to join us?”
“I don’t know, I need to watch my sis--”
“Roy!”
He turned around in time to be tackled by his sister. Playfully, he dropped to the ground, as though she’d knocked him over.
“Hey kiddo, what’s up?”
“Kimmy Nguyan invited me to her house for dinner and maybe a sleepover if you say it’s okay. Is it okay?”
“I don’t know about that, kiddo. You’re a bit young, I don’t think Ms. Fisher would like it. Six is still-”
“Six and a half! I had my half birthday a month ago!”
“She keeps track?” Babs whispered to Oliver, who chuckled.
“It’s Roy’s favorite holiday. Half cake, half candles, presents cut in half. He hides the pieces for her to find, then he puts it back together.”
“Please can I, Roy?” she asked again, pulling out the puppy eyes.
He gave her a reluctant smile. “You call me for anything though, okay? And I’m gonna ask Kimmy’s parents if you brushed your teeth.”
“Roooy…”
“That’s the condition.”
“So I can go?”
“Yes, you can go.”
Lian squealed with delight, giving her brother a tight hug before running back to her friend.
“Cute kid,” Babs supplied, packing up her things.
Roy smiled proudly. “Yeah. So I guess that’s a yes to your pizza offer, too.”
“Have a pen?”
Reaching into his pocket, he drew one out. He was surprised, however, when she grabbed his whole arm, ignoring the Bic in his hand.
“Wha-?”
Taking the pen, she wrote down an address on his arm.
“Be there around 7:30 or so. It was nice talking to you, Roy.”
-
“So Peter,” Roy began later that night, stretch out comfortably on the Gordon’s couch, “you’re a science geek, right?”
Babs snorted into her Doctor Pepper, and Peter raised an eyebrow. “I prefer ‘Man of Science.’”
“Right. So riddle me this: why can’t we have nuclear powered cars? I thought nuclear power was supposed to be really good for the environment.”
Peter considered this. “Well, a
nuclear reactor engine that would provide the right amount of energy for a car
could be built; and it would run just fine. It would require refueling only
every 5 or 10 years, and you’re right, it would be good for the environment.
The only problem is that it would kill the driver, the passengers, and perhaps
bystanders too, due to radiation.”
Roy blinked. “Um… Okay. Thanks for, uh, clearing that up.”
“Pizza’s here, kids!” Jim called on the intercom, “buzz me up!”
A few moments later and the pizza was on the coffee table, hot and fresh. Jim retreated to the kitchen to let the kids bond.
“What's in there?” Peter asked,
gesturing at Babs’ paper bag with his head as he opened the pizza box.
“A salad.”
Roy blinked. “Salad?”
“Yes Roy, salad,” she said,
rolling her eyes. “It's a quaint dish sometimes used to precede large
quantities of pizza.”
Roy and Peter looked at each
other before both turning to look at Babs as though she had lobsters crawling
out of her ears.
She sighed. “It's for me.”
“Clearly,” Peter said before going back to the pizza.
Watching her two new teammates scarf down pizza, Babs was suddenly overcome with a feeling of contentment. So, this was her life now.
She could get used to this.