Post by The Wonderful Wachter on Jun 27, 2011 13:57:31 GMT -5
Ultimate Spoilers #1
Under the Purple Hood Pt 1
Day in the Life of a Blond
Apartment Overlooking Thrawn Park, Blüdhaven
My name is Stephanie Brown and hate Lady Gaga. She can take her bad romance and shove it. So you can see why I find myself confused at her appearance in my room alongside a bunch of little monsters as they danced across its breadth.
A mane of blond hair shot towards the ceiling then back down, masking the confused face of Stephanie as she sat up in her bed. It took a few seconds of blinking and another few seconds of looking for the monsters no doubt hiding somewhere in her room before she realized it was safe. No monsters under the bed. No monsters in the closet. Just a ray of sunshine bathing her stuffed dog Ace in light and horrible music blaring out of her alarm clock.
Her hand shot out to turn the nightmare off. Once done, her head flopped back down to her pillow, hair flying everywhere. She knew she needed to get up, knew if she didn’t her mother would come up and get her or more likely send Jolyn. But her pillows were so soft and sleep so sweet, at least it had been until the little monsters had shown up in her dreams.
Sighing, Steph swung her feet over the edge of her mattress or rather tried to. Her feet caught in her sheets and only quick thinking on her part kept her dignity partially intact. She stumbled across her rather large – for an apartment in the city – room with blurry eyesight. Somehow she avoided the shoes and books scattered across her floor to begin her morning routine.
Stephanie wasn’t that remarkable of a girl; pretty and cute instead of beautiful and sexy. She had an average build with a tad more pudge than she liked but no guys had complained about yet. Her grades were about as scattered as her brain. And her hair… her gorgeous, luxurious golden tresses were often the cause of much suffering every morning.
Shower and various other matters a lady shouldn’t mention finished, she dragged her feet away from her private bathroom to her vanity mirror to start that suffering. Conditioner and other products could only do so much. For her, the war for good hair began and ended by the teeth of a brush. It was a long process. Almost as long as everything else in her routine yet soon enough, this too was finished and it was time to get dressed.
A missing garment hanging across her desk chair where it had covered Ace alerted her to the invasion of her privacy. A storm brewed within Stephanie’s heart. Quickly pulling on a plain purple shirt and a faded pair of jeans tighter than she remembered as temporary fixes, she bounded out of her room and down the rounding stairs
Today is not the day for games. For hints and clues. I want, no I need that skirt. It’s my lucky skirt. He’ll like it.
The source of her fury was nowhere to be found in the wide, open sitting room. Instead, she ran smack dab into a wall of sunrise that blinded her temporarily. If it was already that bright outside then she was late. Definitely didn’t have the time to play around.
Next stop, the kitchen.
Stephanie was followed by a dark cloud of frustration when she entered. Annoyed at both the sunlight and the missing skirt, she rounded on her mother, Crystal, sitting at the counter, looking for all the world like an older, chubbier Stephanie with glasses, watching TV as she ate.
“Next time on the Cougars of Jersey, claws come out as Betty runs into her niece Kate—“
The off button found itself her first victim. “Where is he?”
“Your father had to leave early on business,” she sighed, picture perfect image of an exasperated wife and mother. “What’d he do this time?”
“He took my skirt, the one that makes –“
“Jolyn?”
Both of the Browns glanced at the small Asian woman usually a willing participant in all of Steph’s father’s complicated games. Unconcerned, Jolyn continued to wipe clean the stove. She tilted her head towards the white washboard hanging on the fridge’s front door.
“And why again did you marry him?”
Her mother shrugged. “I thought it was romantic when he proposed to me. Hurry up and figure it or you’ll be late for school. ” She turned the television back on. “Dixon has been ordered to go the speed limit even if you’re running behind.”
Useless mother.
Stephanie shook her head, disgusted at the thought her mother probably wished she was the star of that crappy show. On the cold steel door of the fridge, she read a single word. A single clue. Diary.
An instant later she gasped “Attic” but before she could dash upstairs into the loft and storage space, a tiny form blocked her way… A tiny form holding a spoon. A spoon that soon enough smacked Stephanie on her nose.
“That’s not how it’s done, Miss Stephanie.”
How it’s done, huh? Interesting fact, I have this crazy learning disability. Same as my father. I know stuff. Now, you wouldn’t think that it’s a real disability but it is. I see something and without quite knowing why, I know the answer. Might ask yourself, what’s wrong with that? Well, for one… It makes you look like conspiracy theorist or a genius or insane when you’re not. Other people just can’t see it for themselves. For two… How often in math and science class are you told to prove your work? I have to work backwards after knowing the answer and that gets boring but give me a standardized test and multiple choice and I’m your girl.
It’s not meta. It’s more like a trick memory. I recognize patterns, clues, in things. Something anyone can do if they put their time and effort into it. Except, I do it in opposite order. Have to figure out what I’ve seen or read in the past to confirm my knowledge. It’s a pretty cool learning problem. Certainly better than ADHD or dyslexia.
Since my dad has it too, he came up with this “game” where he leaves a clue and I have to explain my answer to get the “reward.” Supposed to help me in the speed of my deductions. It’s fun when my love life is not on the line.
Stephanie closed her eyes, took a breath, then rattled off the reasons at super speed. “Diary of Anne Frank or Diary of a Young Girl depending on what source of media you’re referring to features a young Jewish hiding in a set of rooms, including an attic, secluded away to avoid Nazis. He has it written at an angle, pointing upwards with the tail of the Y aimed directly at the door leading to the loft. And he’s been on a WWII kick lately.” She opened her eyes to see a smiling Jolyn. “Why is that by the way?”
“I believe your father watched a fascinating documentary on it the other day,” she stepped aside. “You may pass but I believe you are already too late.”
“Huh? Why?” The doorbell rang answering her question. “Nooooo!”
“The boy is quite punctual. Please do not forget your schoolbag again, Miss Stephanie.” A nutria-grain bar was pressed into her hands. “Have a pleasant day.”
Willpower forced Stephanie to twist the corners of her frown upwards and color had reached her cheeks by the time she reached the door with her bookbag in hand. Normally, Jolyn would answer the door as part of her duties but today was special. She knew how much Steph looked forward to this moment every week. Hoping she looked pretty despite the drab clothes, she reached for the doorknob before the bell could ring a second time.
The messenger on the other side matched her smile with a tad more sincerity and a lot more confidence. He was tall, taller than her by almost half a foot. His body was as lean as a swimmer or an acrobat, making the red bag of his hang across to die for shoulders, bisecting his black jacket, in such a perfect way. She met his gray eyes, so at odds yet so fitting for his short red hair, and felt her pulse quicken.
“Miss Brown,” he handed her a package, dimly aware she had never once been asked to sign for it, “you always seem to be heading downstairs whenever I arrive.”
“Hmm. Feels like a priceless manuscript,” the package was tossed with nary a thought on the corner table as she closed the door behind her. “And I can’t help it if your schedule just happens to match mine. Not like I tell the school when to start classes.”
A chuckle and an easy shrug of the shoulder, “Not as blond as you appear, huh?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She headed for the elevator.
“Nothing.” He headed for the stairs.
“Where you going?”
“Just stretching the legs,” he smiled, showing teeth. “Feel free to join me if you don’t think you’ll be late.”
Oh, Jason, if you weren’t so cute I’d push you off those stairs.
Stephanie hastened to keep up, reaching the door to the stairs just as it started to swing shut. She expected to see him waiting for. Just to tease her. But he was nowhere to be found. Here at the top of the stairs and where was he?
“Can’t keep up?”
She glanced over the edge to find him a few floors below already. How was that possible? Before her eyes, she found the answer. He jumped and dropped down a few more, an amazing show of strength, dexterity and daring.
Okay…That’s hot.
~~~
A blond form leaned against the bottom of the stairwell, her chest swelling up and down as it gasped for air. Steph had weighed the options of exerting herself before school. Debated if she should risk the sweat. In the end, Jason’s playful taunting had goaded her on. She chased after him, not willing to let him get away when they ran out of steps.
He had let her catch up, waited on her to get a breath away from reaching out and touching him, before he would do his leaps of faith. He toyed with her. He had enjoyed it. And probably could have reached the bottom through a series of acrobatic maneuvers she could never hope of matching without ever stopping.
“Impressive. Thought you’d give up five floors ago.” Kindly, he reached into his messenger bag to bring out a bottle of water. “Here. Drink.”
“I don’t give up and thanks,” she took the bottle, gulping it down greedily. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”
Jason didn’t answer. His grin never reached his eyes. “C’mon. Best get you to your driver before you pass out. You can rest on your way to school.”
They were almost out of the doors to lobby before Steph worked up the courage to talk again. Perhaps courage was the wrong word. Energy was far better. The much needed strength to steel herself for potential rejection. She expected that rejection. After all, he was a few years older than her with crazy freerunning skills and a killer body. Women had to throw themselves at him on a daily basis.
“Doing anything fun tonight?”
He glanced down at her appraisingly, knowing exactly what the subtleties behind the innocent words meant. “Fun, no. Anything, yes.” He watched her face fall. “Going up to Gotham. Have to meet with someone for business.”
“Oh? Who is she?” Her face fell farther, her voice quieting.
“He,” Jason caught the hint, “is just an old acquaintance of mine. Nobody you’d know.” There was something in his voice that rang he was trying too hard to shield her from the truth.
“Gotta pick up a package, huh?”
Jason stopped shortly outside the doors. His face darkened with a hidden fury. Steph turned around, catching only the barest hints of the rage before he screwed his face back up to something innocent. “Yeah.”
“Miss Brown,” a voice called out to her and she heard the tapping of a watch.
“I’ll be back in the ‘Haven tomorrow,” he reached for the red striped helmet of his motorcycle a short distance away. “I’ll give you a call. See what you’re doing.”
“For real?” Steph couldn’t believe her luck. “You’re not just saying the same thing all guys say to a crazy girl who chased after them?”
“I like crazy girls,” the helmet slipped over his head. “Especially those who chase after me and keep up like you do.” He revved the engine. “Have a good day sitting behind a desk.”
~~
Elliot Academy
Cassandra Cain. Some think she’s rude and antisocial. Others are just terrified of her, or rather, her father. Me? I want to know what race her mother is. Tempted to say Asian but I’m not sure. She’s kinda pretty and I love her short hair. It frames her heart-shaped face perfectly. Such fine, silky hair. So impossibly thin. Must be the difference between having a murderer and an academic for a father.
Stephanie waved at Cassie who was late like her while their respective drivers shared a knowing look. The latter returned the wave with nod. The two had been in the same school for the past five years, ever since David Cain realized he could use his daughter for political and social functions. They had sat out of gym together. Often had the same classes due to grades and teachers who knew where their paychecks came from. They weren’t friends but they weren’t not friends; Steph being one of the few people to tolerate Cass’s attitude and lack of speech.
Inside the rapidly emptying halls of the school, Steph went one direction with Cass going another. They’d see each other again at second and final block. Steph turned a corner to head up the stairs to the second floor only to run into a red headed ninth grader slightly smaller than her. Surprise ate at Steph. There was an unusual scent surrounding the girl and she swore the red head had appeared out of nowhere.
“Sorry,” the kid took off down the stairs…strange. Why was she coming from upstairs then?
Steph suffered through three boring blocks of class, a lunch of pizza by herself, and an algebra test she hopefully earned a B on before finally sitting down next to Cass for Ms Gordon’s own test. More often than not, Steph could remember Cassandra barely doing her school work. She constantly tested the level of fear and wariness her father inspired. She searched for the limit a teacher would go to give her a passing grade.
Ms. Gordon was not one to give into fear. A relatively new teacher, she put her students to task not caring who had who for a mob boss father or who was connected to which mafia. There was even a rumor she held a Falcone back a grade in the prior year. Cassandra was no exemption. She sat with her nose almost pressed to the paper, working hard to finish an essay.
Working no less hard was Stephanie. She answered the questions about the book they had been reading easily enough, proving her father’s game was working. Unfortunately, when she arrived at the essay, her thoughts started to get jumbled and one word reminded her of Jason. She spent a good five minutes tapping her pencil against her desk trying to figure out how a courier like Jason could be connected to illegal activities. Another three minutes were spent on wondering how she knew her father was going to be in Gotham today too.
By the time the bell rang, only Stephanie and Cassandra remained sitting at their desks, working on their papers. Ms Gordon allowed them to continue as it was the final period of the day. Steph rushed to finish, pinching herself any time her thoughts returned to her father and Jason, and finally, after five minutes past school being over, she was ready to turn it in. Cass was done too. Though Steph knew that to be her not wanting to be last otherwise she’d probably continue proofing her paper.
“Take care, girls,” Ms Gordon said from behind a pair of horn rimmed glasses.
They – or rather just Steph – murmured the appropriate responses and left. Not ten steps out of the classroom, they ran into someone waiting for one of them.
Witch with a capital B. Queen of the School. Beth Kane. Insanely fit, insanely limber, far too smart for her own good. I find myself jealous of those abs I can never have and the popularity I don’t want. She has status. Most blond hair, blue eyed women do… except for me. I have no drive to be class president or an Olympic athlete. Certainly don’t want her current level of fame. I mean, who wants to be known for their mom sleeping her way through the young men of New Jersey?
On most people, a yellow jacket would be too bright to wear over a red tank top but somehow Beth pulled it off stylishly. She seemed to be pulling off a lot as she managed to block both girls from getting by her despite a wide hallway.
“What kind of game is your father playing?” demanded Beth, her voice raised to a near shout. Brave of her. “He’s supposed to handle the security on the Hill yet last night, the crew got mugged, their van got jacked and the producer was stabbed. Is he mad that we won’t pay him protection money or just pissed he can’t be on the show?”
Did not know she talked like that. . .
Cass started to turn around, knowing she could leave the school in a roundabout way from the other direction.
It all happened far too fast for Steph to keep track of. She saw Beth reach for Cassandra. Something in the way the latter changed her stance told Stephanie there was going to be trouble if the two made contact. Without thinking, she interposed her body between them as Cass spun and something collided with Stephanie’s head. Then she knew pain.
~~~
A few minutes later, Stephanie began to wonder why she was staring at the ceiling of a classroom when she had just been out in the hallway. “Why am I on the floor?”
“Do you see a couch in my classroom?” echoed Ms Gordon’s voice from somewhere above, her voice as grumpy as usual.
“Always thought that’d be a welcome addition to every class,” Steph picked herself off the checker patterned tile. “Used to have them in middle school.”
“If you’re conscious enough to use that wit of yours then you’re conscious enough to take a seat.” Ms Gordon glared at her with no mirth behind her glasses. “You girls are lucky I’m feeling nice today. Detention instead of suspension will hopefully be punishment enough.”
“Detention?” awareness of the other two girls sitting on opposite sides of the classroom dawned on Stephanie. She selected a seat in the open middle area, two back from the front.
“Yes. I have no desire to see Beth humiliated on national television as her mother turns suspension into a publicity stunt. Cassandra…” her voice broke off when she met the gaze of the dark haired girl. She knew something about her student’s home life. “Her father would withdraw his funding and I’d very likely lose my job.” A blatant lie Stephanie knew.
“What about me?”
“You were quite literally caught in the middle. Now quiet. This is detention, Stephanie. No talking.”
“What about our drivers?”
“They’ve been notified. Once again, quiet.”
So Stephanie sat, her mouth shut but with fingers tap tap tapping away.
She’s pretty in a hot for teacher sort of way. Sorta naughty librarian meets mistress of S&M. Most of the freshmen guys have crushes on her. Sexy red hair somewhere between a mane like mine and fine like Cass’s. Glasses. Stern face like she smells something icky. Definite potential for hot for teacher. Ha. In those boys dreams.
Ms Gordon surfed the net between bouts of grading papers. The girls sat in silence; Steph tapped, Cass drew, and Beth stewed. After about twenty minutes, their teacher tensed, her eyes riveted on the monitor of her computer. A look of worry crossed her face before a frown of consternation completely pursed her lips. She tried to act nonchalantly, shrugging the feeling off. Even waited a few minutes before acting on whatever had her worried.
“Excuse me, girls, I need to make a phone call,” Ms Gordon pushed herself away from the desk smoothly. “You may talk but please no shouting.” Her arms vanished out of sight and made a repeated movement as she wheeled herself out of the room a bit too fast to be normal. “And no fighting.”
The moment the wheelchair was out of sight and they couldn’t hear her anymore, both blonds stood up and started walking around. Steph headed for Cassie while Beth followed her own suspicions to see what had riled their teacher up. Not quite the student council behavior Stephanie expected.
“Hey, what did you do to me?” she asked of the slighter girl, trying not to be angry though she was.
A piece of paper was pushed towards Steph in answer. Stifled laughter came out when she picked it up. The paper depicted a comic drawing of ninja knocking out on clown while trying to get to a stuck up princess. Next panel had the ninja crouched over the clown while the princess laughed. Final had the clown up and about with giant lump on her head. In this panel was a single speech bubble of the ninja saying “Sorry.”
Stephanie wasn’t sure if she should be offended at being depicted as a clown or not but it was such a sweet, innocent gesture that her heart decided on forgiveness. Putting the paper down, she added a second speech bubble with the words ”It’s okay.” She gave it back to the artist.
Cassie smiled but remained silent. Her attention focused once more on the next piece she was drawing. Stephanie was amazed at the detail going into the work. This was a talent Steph never knew she had. It was almost lifelike.
“So do you like bats?”
Cass nodded and opened her mouth to speak.
“Wow. Criminals in Gotham have some balls. Some idiot stole Jay Garrick’s shoes and left behind a clue to find him.” Once again, disbelief filled Stephanie at how Beth spoke when not trying to be Miss Popular. “Wonder why that upset Gordon?”
“What?” Stephanie was at the computer before she knew it, Cassie on her heels. “Someone took the Flash’s shoes? Who?”
In the front of her mind, with words she dared not give voice to, Stephanie knew who. She wished she didn’t. Wished she could go back to not speaking with Jason, not asking where her father was that morning. But one could not forget. Especially with a memory like hers.
Arthur Brown had stolen the Flash’s shoes for whatever crazy reason. And his daughter was the only one who knew.
Under the Purple Hood Pt 1
Day in the Life of a Blond
Apartment Overlooking Thrawn Park, Blüdhaven
My name is Stephanie Brown and hate Lady Gaga. She can take her bad romance and shove it. So you can see why I find myself confused at her appearance in my room alongside a bunch of little monsters as they danced across its breadth.
A mane of blond hair shot towards the ceiling then back down, masking the confused face of Stephanie as she sat up in her bed. It took a few seconds of blinking and another few seconds of looking for the monsters no doubt hiding somewhere in her room before she realized it was safe. No monsters under the bed. No monsters in the closet. Just a ray of sunshine bathing her stuffed dog Ace in light and horrible music blaring out of her alarm clock.
Her hand shot out to turn the nightmare off. Once done, her head flopped back down to her pillow, hair flying everywhere. She knew she needed to get up, knew if she didn’t her mother would come up and get her or more likely send Jolyn. But her pillows were so soft and sleep so sweet, at least it had been until the little monsters had shown up in her dreams.
Sighing, Steph swung her feet over the edge of her mattress or rather tried to. Her feet caught in her sheets and only quick thinking on her part kept her dignity partially intact. She stumbled across her rather large – for an apartment in the city – room with blurry eyesight. Somehow she avoided the shoes and books scattered across her floor to begin her morning routine.
Stephanie wasn’t that remarkable of a girl; pretty and cute instead of beautiful and sexy. She had an average build with a tad more pudge than she liked but no guys had complained about yet. Her grades were about as scattered as her brain. And her hair… her gorgeous, luxurious golden tresses were often the cause of much suffering every morning.
Shower and various other matters a lady shouldn’t mention finished, she dragged her feet away from her private bathroom to her vanity mirror to start that suffering. Conditioner and other products could only do so much. For her, the war for good hair began and ended by the teeth of a brush. It was a long process. Almost as long as everything else in her routine yet soon enough, this too was finished and it was time to get dressed.
A missing garment hanging across her desk chair where it had covered Ace alerted her to the invasion of her privacy. A storm brewed within Stephanie’s heart. Quickly pulling on a plain purple shirt and a faded pair of jeans tighter than she remembered as temporary fixes, she bounded out of her room and down the rounding stairs
Today is not the day for games. For hints and clues. I want, no I need that skirt. It’s my lucky skirt. He’ll like it.
The source of her fury was nowhere to be found in the wide, open sitting room. Instead, she ran smack dab into a wall of sunrise that blinded her temporarily. If it was already that bright outside then she was late. Definitely didn’t have the time to play around.
Next stop, the kitchen.
Stephanie was followed by a dark cloud of frustration when she entered. Annoyed at both the sunlight and the missing skirt, she rounded on her mother, Crystal, sitting at the counter, looking for all the world like an older, chubbier Stephanie with glasses, watching TV as she ate.
“Next time on the Cougars of Jersey, claws come out as Betty runs into her niece Kate—“
The off button found itself her first victim. “Where is he?”
“Your father had to leave early on business,” she sighed, picture perfect image of an exasperated wife and mother. “What’d he do this time?”
“He took my skirt, the one that makes –“
“Jolyn?”
Both of the Browns glanced at the small Asian woman usually a willing participant in all of Steph’s father’s complicated games. Unconcerned, Jolyn continued to wipe clean the stove. She tilted her head towards the white washboard hanging on the fridge’s front door.
“And why again did you marry him?”
Her mother shrugged. “I thought it was romantic when he proposed to me. Hurry up and figure it or you’ll be late for school. ” She turned the television back on. “Dixon has been ordered to go the speed limit even if you’re running behind.”
Useless mother.
Stephanie shook her head, disgusted at the thought her mother probably wished she was the star of that crappy show. On the cold steel door of the fridge, she read a single word. A single clue. Diary.
An instant later she gasped “Attic” but before she could dash upstairs into the loft and storage space, a tiny form blocked her way… A tiny form holding a spoon. A spoon that soon enough smacked Stephanie on her nose.
“That’s not how it’s done, Miss Stephanie.”
How it’s done, huh? Interesting fact, I have this crazy learning disability. Same as my father. I know stuff. Now, you wouldn’t think that it’s a real disability but it is. I see something and without quite knowing why, I know the answer. Might ask yourself, what’s wrong with that? Well, for one… It makes you look like conspiracy theorist or a genius or insane when you’re not. Other people just can’t see it for themselves. For two… How often in math and science class are you told to prove your work? I have to work backwards after knowing the answer and that gets boring but give me a standardized test and multiple choice and I’m your girl.
It’s not meta. It’s more like a trick memory. I recognize patterns, clues, in things. Something anyone can do if they put their time and effort into it. Except, I do it in opposite order. Have to figure out what I’ve seen or read in the past to confirm my knowledge. It’s a pretty cool learning problem. Certainly better than ADHD or dyslexia.
Since my dad has it too, he came up with this “game” where he leaves a clue and I have to explain my answer to get the “reward.” Supposed to help me in the speed of my deductions. It’s fun when my love life is not on the line.
Stephanie closed her eyes, took a breath, then rattled off the reasons at super speed. “Diary of Anne Frank or Diary of a Young Girl depending on what source of media you’re referring to features a young Jewish hiding in a set of rooms, including an attic, secluded away to avoid Nazis. He has it written at an angle, pointing upwards with the tail of the Y aimed directly at the door leading to the loft. And he’s been on a WWII kick lately.” She opened her eyes to see a smiling Jolyn. “Why is that by the way?”
“I believe your father watched a fascinating documentary on it the other day,” she stepped aside. “You may pass but I believe you are already too late.”
“Huh? Why?” The doorbell rang answering her question. “Nooooo!”
“The boy is quite punctual. Please do not forget your schoolbag again, Miss Stephanie.” A nutria-grain bar was pressed into her hands. “Have a pleasant day.”
Willpower forced Stephanie to twist the corners of her frown upwards and color had reached her cheeks by the time she reached the door with her bookbag in hand. Normally, Jolyn would answer the door as part of her duties but today was special. She knew how much Steph looked forward to this moment every week. Hoping she looked pretty despite the drab clothes, she reached for the doorknob before the bell could ring a second time.
The messenger on the other side matched her smile with a tad more sincerity and a lot more confidence. He was tall, taller than her by almost half a foot. His body was as lean as a swimmer or an acrobat, making the red bag of his hang across to die for shoulders, bisecting his black jacket, in such a perfect way. She met his gray eyes, so at odds yet so fitting for his short red hair, and felt her pulse quicken.
“Miss Brown,” he handed her a package, dimly aware she had never once been asked to sign for it, “you always seem to be heading downstairs whenever I arrive.”
“Hmm. Feels like a priceless manuscript,” the package was tossed with nary a thought on the corner table as she closed the door behind her. “And I can’t help it if your schedule just happens to match mine. Not like I tell the school when to start classes.”
A chuckle and an easy shrug of the shoulder, “Not as blond as you appear, huh?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She headed for the elevator.
“Nothing.” He headed for the stairs.
“Where you going?”
“Just stretching the legs,” he smiled, showing teeth. “Feel free to join me if you don’t think you’ll be late.”
Oh, Jason, if you weren’t so cute I’d push you off those stairs.
Stephanie hastened to keep up, reaching the door to the stairs just as it started to swing shut. She expected to see him waiting for. Just to tease her. But he was nowhere to be found. Here at the top of the stairs and where was he?
“Can’t keep up?”
She glanced over the edge to find him a few floors below already. How was that possible? Before her eyes, she found the answer. He jumped and dropped down a few more, an amazing show of strength, dexterity and daring.
Okay…That’s hot.
~~~
A blond form leaned against the bottom of the stairwell, her chest swelling up and down as it gasped for air. Steph had weighed the options of exerting herself before school. Debated if she should risk the sweat. In the end, Jason’s playful taunting had goaded her on. She chased after him, not willing to let him get away when they ran out of steps.
He had let her catch up, waited on her to get a breath away from reaching out and touching him, before he would do his leaps of faith. He toyed with her. He had enjoyed it. And probably could have reached the bottom through a series of acrobatic maneuvers she could never hope of matching without ever stopping.
“Impressive. Thought you’d give up five floors ago.” Kindly, he reached into his messenger bag to bring out a bottle of water. “Here. Drink.”
“I don’t give up and thanks,” she took the bottle, gulping it down greedily. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”
Jason didn’t answer. His grin never reached his eyes. “C’mon. Best get you to your driver before you pass out. You can rest on your way to school.”
They were almost out of the doors to lobby before Steph worked up the courage to talk again. Perhaps courage was the wrong word. Energy was far better. The much needed strength to steel herself for potential rejection. She expected that rejection. After all, he was a few years older than her with crazy freerunning skills and a killer body. Women had to throw themselves at him on a daily basis.
“Doing anything fun tonight?”
He glanced down at her appraisingly, knowing exactly what the subtleties behind the innocent words meant. “Fun, no. Anything, yes.” He watched her face fall. “Going up to Gotham. Have to meet with someone for business.”
“Oh? Who is she?” Her face fell farther, her voice quieting.
“He,” Jason caught the hint, “is just an old acquaintance of mine. Nobody you’d know.” There was something in his voice that rang he was trying too hard to shield her from the truth.
“Gotta pick up a package, huh?”
Jason stopped shortly outside the doors. His face darkened with a hidden fury. Steph turned around, catching only the barest hints of the rage before he screwed his face back up to something innocent. “Yeah.”
“Miss Brown,” a voice called out to her and she heard the tapping of a watch.
“I’ll be back in the ‘Haven tomorrow,” he reached for the red striped helmet of his motorcycle a short distance away. “I’ll give you a call. See what you’re doing.”
“For real?” Steph couldn’t believe her luck. “You’re not just saying the same thing all guys say to a crazy girl who chased after them?”
“I like crazy girls,” the helmet slipped over his head. “Especially those who chase after me and keep up like you do.” He revved the engine. “Have a good day sitting behind a desk.”
~~
Elliot Academy
Cassandra Cain. Some think she’s rude and antisocial. Others are just terrified of her, or rather, her father. Me? I want to know what race her mother is. Tempted to say Asian but I’m not sure. She’s kinda pretty and I love her short hair. It frames her heart-shaped face perfectly. Such fine, silky hair. So impossibly thin. Must be the difference between having a murderer and an academic for a father.
Stephanie waved at Cassie who was late like her while their respective drivers shared a knowing look. The latter returned the wave with nod. The two had been in the same school for the past five years, ever since David Cain realized he could use his daughter for political and social functions. They had sat out of gym together. Often had the same classes due to grades and teachers who knew where their paychecks came from. They weren’t friends but they weren’t not friends; Steph being one of the few people to tolerate Cass’s attitude and lack of speech.
Inside the rapidly emptying halls of the school, Steph went one direction with Cass going another. They’d see each other again at second and final block. Steph turned a corner to head up the stairs to the second floor only to run into a red headed ninth grader slightly smaller than her. Surprise ate at Steph. There was an unusual scent surrounding the girl and she swore the red head had appeared out of nowhere.
“Sorry,” the kid took off down the stairs…strange. Why was she coming from upstairs then?
Steph suffered through three boring blocks of class, a lunch of pizza by herself, and an algebra test she hopefully earned a B on before finally sitting down next to Cass for Ms Gordon’s own test. More often than not, Steph could remember Cassandra barely doing her school work. She constantly tested the level of fear and wariness her father inspired. She searched for the limit a teacher would go to give her a passing grade.
Ms. Gordon was not one to give into fear. A relatively new teacher, she put her students to task not caring who had who for a mob boss father or who was connected to which mafia. There was even a rumor she held a Falcone back a grade in the prior year. Cassandra was no exemption. She sat with her nose almost pressed to the paper, working hard to finish an essay.
Working no less hard was Stephanie. She answered the questions about the book they had been reading easily enough, proving her father’s game was working. Unfortunately, when she arrived at the essay, her thoughts started to get jumbled and one word reminded her of Jason. She spent a good five minutes tapping her pencil against her desk trying to figure out how a courier like Jason could be connected to illegal activities. Another three minutes were spent on wondering how she knew her father was going to be in Gotham today too.
By the time the bell rang, only Stephanie and Cassandra remained sitting at their desks, working on their papers. Ms Gordon allowed them to continue as it was the final period of the day. Steph rushed to finish, pinching herself any time her thoughts returned to her father and Jason, and finally, after five minutes past school being over, she was ready to turn it in. Cass was done too. Though Steph knew that to be her not wanting to be last otherwise she’d probably continue proofing her paper.
“Take care, girls,” Ms Gordon said from behind a pair of horn rimmed glasses.
They – or rather just Steph – murmured the appropriate responses and left. Not ten steps out of the classroom, they ran into someone waiting for one of them.
Witch with a capital B. Queen of the School. Beth Kane. Insanely fit, insanely limber, far too smart for her own good. I find myself jealous of those abs I can never have and the popularity I don’t want. She has status. Most blond hair, blue eyed women do… except for me. I have no drive to be class president or an Olympic athlete. Certainly don’t want her current level of fame. I mean, who wants to be known for their mom sleeping her way through the young men of New Jersey?
On most people, a yellow jacket would be too bright to wear over a red tank top but somehow Beth pulled it off stylishly. She seemed to be pulling off a lot as she managed to block both girls from getting by her despite a wide hallway.
“What kind of game is your father playing?” demanded Beth, her voice raised to a near shout. Brave of her. “He’s supposed to handle the security on the Hill yet last night, the crew got mugged, their van got jacked and the producer was stabbed. Is he mad that we won’t pay him protection money or just pissed he can’t be on the show?”
Did not know she talked like that. . .
Cass started to turn around, knowing she could leave the school in a roundabout way from the other direction.
It all happened far too fast for Steph to keep track of. She saw Beth reach for Cassandra. Something in the way the latter changed her stance told Stephanie there was going to be trouble if the two made contact. Without thinking, she interposed her body between them as Cass spun and something collided with Stephanie’s head. Then she knew pain.
~~~
A few minutes later, Stephanie began to wonder why she was staring at the ceiling of a classroom when she had just been out in the hallway. “Why am I on the floor?”
“Do you see a couch in my classroom?” echoed Ms Gordon’s voice from somewhere above, her voice as grumpy as usual.
“Always thought that’d be a welcome addition to every class,” Steph picked herself off the checker patterned tile. “Used to have them in middle school.”
“If you’re conscious enough to use that wit of yours then you’re conscious enough to take a seat.” Ms Gordon glared at her with no mirth behind her glasses. “You girls are lucky I’m feeling nice today. Detention instead of suspension will hopefully be punishment enough.”
“Detention?” awareness of the other two girls sitting on opposite sides of the classroom dawned on Stephanie. She selected a seat in the open middle area, two back from the front.
“Yes. I have no desire to see Beth humiliated on national television as her mother turns suspension into a publicity stunt. Cassandra…” her voice broke off when she met the gaze of the dark haired girl. She knew something about her student’s home life. “Her father would withdraw his funding and I’d very likely lose my job.” A blatant lie Stephanie knew.
“What about me?”
“You were quite literally caught in the middle. Now quiet. This is detention, Stephanie. No talking.”
“What about our drivers?”
“They’ve been notified. Once again, quiet.”
So Stephanie sat, her mouth shut but with fingers tap tap tapping away.
She’s pretty in a hot for teacher sort of way. Sorta naughty librarian meets mistress of S&M. Most of the freshmen guys have crushes on her. Sexy red hair somewhere between a mane like mine and fine like Cass’s. Glasses. Stern face like she smells something icky. Definite potential for hot for teacher. Ha. In those boys dreams.
Ms Gordon surfed the net between bouts of grading papers. The girls sat in silence; Steph tapped, Cass drew, and Beth stewed. After about twenty minutes, their teacher tensed, her eyes riveted on the monitor of her computer. A look of worry crossed her face before a frown of consternation completely pursed her lips. She tried to act nonchalantly, shrugging the feeling off. Even waited a few minutes before acting on whatever had her worried.
“Excuse me, girls, I need to make a phone call,” Ms Gordon pushed herself away from the desk smoothly. “You may talk but please no shouting.” Her arms vanished out of sight and made a repeated movement as she wheeled herself out of the room a bit too fast to be normal. “And no fighting.”
The moment the wheelchair was out of sight and they couldn’t hear her anymore, both blonds stood up and started walking around. Steph headed for Cassie while Beth followed her own suspicions to see what had riled their teacher up. Not quite the student council behavior Stephanie expected.
“Hey, what did you do to me?” she asked of the slighter girl, trying not to be angry though she was.
A piece of paper was pushed towards Steph in answer. Stifled laughter came out when she picked it up. The paper depicted a comic drawing of ninja knocking out on clown while trying to get to a stuck up princess. Next panel had the ninja crouched over the clown while the princess laughed. Final had the clown up and about with giant lump on her head. In this panel was a single speech bubble of the ninja saying “Sorry.”
Stephanie wasn’t sure if she should be offended at being depicted as a clown or not but it was such a sweet, innocent gesture that her heart decided on forgiveness. Putting the paper down, she added a second speech bubble with the words ”It’s okay.” She gave it back to the artist.
Cassie smiled but remained silent. Her attention focused once more on the next piece she was drawing. Stephanie was amazed at the detail going into the work. This was a talent Steph never knew she had. It was almost lifelike.
“So do you like bats?”
Cass nodded and opened her mouth to speak.
“Wow. Criminals in Gotham have some balls. Some idiot stole Jay Garrick’s shoes and left behind a clue to find him.” Once again, disbelief filled Stephanie at how Beth spoke when not trying to be Miss Popular. “Wonder why that upset Gordon?”
“What?” Stephanie was at the computer before she knew it, Cassie on her heels. “Someone took the Flash’s shoes? Who?”
In the front of her mind, with words she dared not give voice to, Stephanie knew who. She wished she didn’t. Wished she could go back to not speaking with Jason, not asking where her father was that morning. But one could not forget. Especially with a memory like hers.
Arthur Brown had stolen the Flash’s shoes for whatever crazy reason. And his daughter was the only one who knew.