The night is nearing its zenith. The new day will arrive, and the creatures that play will soon be gone. Or at least the spooks, the dead, the freaks, and otherworldly figures born from shadows will have no purpose on the first day of November.
Halloween is a freeing, uplifting night for Jagger. Orange is his color, sugar is his playground, pranks are his lifestyle, and darkness is how he's baptized.
The Batman towers over him with an expectant grimace. Jagger becomes the White Rabbit and chooses to become his good luck charm.
He holds up a piece of clasped cake and offers it to the dark knight. The knight only stares.
The Rabbit shrugs. Then stuffs it in his mouth. He feels he'll need it since he hears a storm coming.
"Fow guh wuow." said the White Rabbit. He sucks his fingers to get the icing off, "So, are we taking the BaAAAAHHHHHH!"
From outside, the boarded-up window bursts apart as a great mass of billowing black holds a screaming White Rabbit in one arm and swings through the air with his grappler in the other. Lightning flashed with his leap, and for a split second, they resembled a predator carrying in talons its prey with the wind singing their descent.
Batman has impressive strength. Not enough to hold up a building, but enough to break bones, punch through weak walls, and hold people in his arms to safety. It's part of what makes him a threat to low-lives thieves and organized criminals. Had Jagger been older, his interactions with Batman would have been very different. But that's not the only thing holding Batman back, and Jagger knows it. Batman scares criminals, not children. They lost the air current, so Batman dipped, eliciting another piercing scream that only dogs could hear.
Batman landed near where an alleyway and a sidewalk met. He set Jagger down gently, or as gently as the momentum would let him, and walked straight down the darkness. Jagger took a few calming breaths before he followed the Bat down without hesitation. Two individuals baptized by rain and darkness, too different from each other. The White Rabbit looked at the back of the Batman, curious and timid behind his mask. He couldn't see the man's face and didn't have to imagine what thoughts raced through his mind.
Robin was a tough kid and funny, too. He was like the little brother Jagger never knew he wanted. The White Rabbit knew he was well on his way to becoming a fiercer creature than his namesake and could handle whatever the wind would throw at him. But Jagger didn't say any of this. He didn't know how. And somewhere down, he felt something close to shame.
I don't know why, though. The White Rabbit shook his head and saw Batman jump over something. The White Rabbit felt his heart and bones jolt and vibrate when a deep, mighty rumble echoed through the alleyway.
Its engine was like a bear, tiger, and lion growling simultaneously. Its chassis was elongated and sleek but armored. Black as night yet gleamed with the stars. The sharp fins behind it added to the grill, its face with twin, glowing dots for eyes and a downward glare. The entire front of the car resembled a battering ram with a bat's face. An automotive bat ready to go to war.
I kinda miss the muscle car, Jagger thought. That thing was a hellhound.
The White Rabbit wasted no time hopping in, and the top slid back, sealing them inside. The inside felt warm, almost cozy. The seat vibrated with more intensity than a massage chair. And not even Jagger, with his reluctance, could fight a grin from the glorious sense of right bubbling within him. The turbine engine from behind flared alive, and the White Rabbit was thrust back in his seat, the power behind its speed exhilarating.
They passed through empty streets, turned corners, and at one point, Batman jumped a gap between a folding bridge, bouncing them around. The White Rabbit laughed, albeit uncertainly, at having stuck the landing. Batman never slowed down, only accelerated and pushed the car to its limits.
Robin was on his mind. But he wanted Robin by his side, away from danger.
"How is everybody else?"
Batman hadn't expected the casual remark from the White Rabbit. Currently, he was seated as nonchalantly as he could be, only his seat showing any strain under his hand.
"...They're fine. They're each handling emergencies across the world." Batman replied curtly.
"Cool," said the White Rabbit. They continued the drive in silence, taking in every building they passed by.
Jump City had variety, something that made it tempting to stay. There was a 50s-themed restaurant he liked, but he lamented how vehement the staff was at music from the time period. They even went as far as to glare at him for playing as innocent a song as She's a Rainbow.
Oh, well, Jagger thought, maybe Oregon will be nicer.
"The Joker and the Mad Hatter?" asked the White Rabbit.
Batman nodded, "The Mad Hatter has Cheshire under his control. As a result, she's been using her connections to collect members of the League of Shadows to do his dirty work."
"Damn." Jagger snickered, "I never pegged Tetch to be this bold."
"Not normally." Batman sideyed him, "For all intents and purposes, Cheshire is carrying out what the Shadows want her to. But there's a convenient part of her mind that can't remember where or how the Hatter fits into it."
"And the Joker?"
"Joker is playing a game." He scowled, "He's likely working with Tetch to get to me." His brow furrowed, "What's shocked me is Old Tom Sawyer. His powers haven't been much use to him these last years."
"Tom Sawyer?" asked the White Rabbit, trying to remember where he'd heard that name.
"Thomas Sheldon, age 72, calls himself Sawyer due to his power." Batman explained, almost mechanically, "His voice can emit a specific pitch that, when in contact with more susceptible minds, can be bent to his control. When in deep concentration, he could control the minds of a few heroes."
"Like?"
"Like the original Flash, the Sandman, and even Green Lantern."
The White Rabbit remembered from old footage of such heroes, the red uniformed Green Lantern, the Flash with the dumb hat, and that guy who put people to sleep. So this Tom Sawyer wasn't something to sneeze at.
"Okay, that's not bad." the White Rabbit admitted, "So, what happened? All those cigarettes clogged up his tenor?"
"He smoked cigars, and he was a baritone." Which wasn't a no, "Old age caught up with him. He kept reaching for taller jobs, all while he got slower and weaker. Sawyer tried making a comeback with Gorilla Grodd two years ago, but his inability to adapt and his treachery cost Grodd everything."
"Since then, he's taken smaller jobs, purses, pockets but couldn't keep up. He hasn't been heard from since."
Jagger frowned at the name Gorilla Grodd. Stupid gorilla, he thought.
Then, he asked, "Don't you keep tabs on everybody?"
Batman ignored his tone, "So when Jervis Tetch was caught on camera helping an old man out of a bank, it raised many eyebrows." he broke right when a semi got between him and a Jaguar, shaking Jagger out of his leisure, "I would have followed up on this, but I'm sure you've heard of Joker's State Tour?"
"Who hasn't?" Jagger said in between breaths.
"In the end, I prioritized lives over money." The knight said, full of conviction, "But when I saw signs of a highly efficient stealth operation above Tetch's M.O., only two of them taking place in the same spots as Joker's tour, I knew something was up."
Jagger settled into his seat, "Cheese and crackers."
Batman raised an eyebrow.
Jagger sighed, "I met someone who told me to cut down on swearing."
"What do you get in return?"
The White Rabbit ignored that, "How much further?"
Batman looked at the little screen below, "The tracker shows they've stopped," he checked his map. He now saw the building and grimaced.
"Something in the way," Batman turned to see Jagger staring intently while humming, "Something in the way, yeah." The action, though he would never admit it, eased Batman's nerves. If only a little.
----------------------------------------
Tall, dark, and filled with a painful history. That's why I picked this place; it reminds me of you.
The night went on. Old Tom hobbled into the spacious freight elevator, the tall figure walking diligently behind him with an unconscious Robin on his shoulder. Old Tom wished he could trade loads, but then he remembered who trained Robin and felt he could put up with the girl's weight. The elevator pushed up, buckling slightly from many years of no one using it, and Old Tom remembered why he hated elevators.
There were so many things he hated—misspent youth, arrogant supers, a world that changes without him. Things were more straightforward back then, fun even. But now, there were twists and turns and curves and more jostling than his old bones could take.
Tom Shelton closed his eyes, replaying those days as a kid— manipulating stupid bullies to dance, the women he scored, the bucks he would burn since there were millions.
Old Tom sighed, releasing the faded, murky images from his mind. They were getting more challenging to keep catching, like he was sinking deeper and deeper underwater and losing the strength to move. Sometimes, he couldn't even breathe.
The door slid with a slight scrape, breaking his thoughts. Old Tom sucked in some air and went down the catwalk.
The closer he came, the more they revealed themselves. Old Tom couldn't remember this gigantic place, but there were conveyor belts below him and a few enormous boilers scattered around, either standing upright or laid down and rusted with years of decay. There was a chilled feeling all around, with grass growing in a few places and the sizable hexagon-shaped window with faded colors.
Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Old Tom could remember something odd. Something that reached for a childish glee that he hadn't felt in decades— Old Tom had been here before.
His green eyes landed on Cheshire, standing on a platform where a flight of stairs lay behind her. Old Tom puffed up his chest, made what passed for a proud march, and tossed the case at her feet.
"Well, there! Your damn case is back in your hands, but could you at least let me get the money out of there?"
Cheshire lifted the chase, weighed it, tapped its body, and glanced at the rickety stairway behind her. It appeared to Old Tom as a podium, something a CEO would use to address his many workers. All Tom could see was darkness. Underneath was a grand berth of space with tables lined in disorder or ruin.
"A few questions:" Cheshire said, "Firstly, don't—"
Abruptly, Cheshire's head began to twitch. Tom watched on awkwardly as Cheshire reached slowly for her head before it came down just as quickly as it came.
"Firstly," She said, as if not the episode didn't happen, "don't you remember the code?"
Old Tom paused, "Forgot."
"6-4-9-9." She responded, took something from its body, and tossed it back to Tom, landing roughly at his feet. "Second, I get the Boy Wonder, but what is that?"
Old Tom paused from bending down for his case, "Well, I was pretty surprised by this guy poppin' out, but then, I peeked behind the curtains, and voila!"
The tall, hooded man didn't move. Old Tom withheld a growl.
"Take off your hood."
"Alright," said the stranger. Broad hands reached up to push his hoodie back.
Cheshire had been taught to expect the unexpected. She wouldn't get anywhere with a dense mindset. Of course, her mask never revealed her widened eyes at the sight before her. The most striking thing about this African teen was the left side of his face—the silver side with a bright red eye.
Old Tom held his hands out, "Part metal, part machine. A cyborg if I ever saw one. Boy Wonder and a Tin Woodsmen, now give Old Tom credit; that's an impressive haul."
Cheshire nodded, "True. But now, my last question: Robin and his friend, I understand, but the girl?"
Tom glanced at the girl's form, laying down, "Oh, yeah! Well, she was in my way as I was collecting my belongings."
Cheshire nodded slowly, "And the reason you brought her here is…?"
"...Well, I…" Old Tom thought or tried searching for a reason why he took this girl. He ended up with nothing. "Oh."
"Uh-huh," said Cheshire, shaking her head lightly.
"Geesh, grampa!" said a young voice from behind Cheshire, "No wonder you went into retirement."
Tommy and Tuppence sauntered down the stairs behind Cheshire, looking no worse for wear, save for some soot in a few places.
"Old, beat up, and ugly." Tommy smirked, "May as well be a leper."
Old Tom growled and took a threatening step forward, then took it back when a new voice pierced the air. A dangerous sound that secreted the air of hilarious havoc.
"Now, come on kiddies! That's no way to talk to your elders." said this voice, "I mean, you're right! Old Tommy bounces around like an old turtle hurtling down a mountain, isn't intimidating in the slightest, and has a superpower that works about as well as "no smoking" signs in a college dorm room, but…" they paused, "No, wait, I think you were right on the money! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Tom turned his head up and found the owner of that voice, a tall, lean, pale man walking down the rusted stairs behind Cheshire. His shoes were dapper, his pants and coat were a shade of purple that fit with a fun house, and the yellow dress coat and green bow tie fit neatly on top. But even Old Tom knew that despite this bovine apparel, this pale-faced man with demonic green hair, sunken eyes, extended jaw, and an enormous blood-red smile with yellow teeth was right at home.
"Joker?!" Old Tom backed up, "You're involved?"
"What can I say? I get invited to all the best parties!" Joker leaped a remarkable height, landed on his feet, and inspected Tom's haul with animated voracity, "And looky here!"
He suddenly held a small knife, "You actually caught the birdy! A plus, Old Tom!" Joker grabbed Robin's head and gave his jaw a few test pokes before addressing the 'cyborg.' "Although, you lose a few points for sneaking in your calculator! And you say technology doesn't help! Ha! Ha!"
Old Tom took the Joker's verbal jabs silently. Tom wondered if his power, even in his younger days, would hold any power against a man so genuinely insane.
But Tom's scowl masked his fear, "Alright, alright! Get it all out! I'm old! I don't have the rep I had once, and I got lucky!" He retched, "You people are so goddamn bizarre! All this fuss for a case."
Joker laughed and slung an arm on Tom's shoulder, "Oh, Old Tommy, the walking pile of sludge." He smacked his lips, "That rusty brain of yours won't let you see the smaller picture! It's not the case we need; it's—" Joker turned to the twins, "Kids, do your Uncle J a solid? Put that bird in a cage, and put that walking, talking cell phone on vibrate."
The twins nodded and diligently pulled Robin away. A spotlight appeared from above, revealing the Mad Hatter sitting atop a cage small enough for a dog, with gleaming bars barely separated to let it poke its nose out. Mad Hatter clapped.
"Madness is the gateway to greatness." He removed Robin's belt before they tossed him in, saying, "And keys are never known for straightness. They hardly fit the shape! Takes the fun from an escape. Don't you agree, Cheshire Cat?"
Mad Hatter, Jervis Tetch, the new master in mind control, sees Cheshire's head twitching and her hand slowly, painfully reaching for the back of her head, and shakes his head in faux sympathy.
"You're trying to resist," He chuckles, "We can't have that."
He pulls out a small, square object with a knob on it. He twists it slowly, activating a ringing in the assassin's ears that sends a soothing yet unbearable warbling feeling into her brain. Robotically putting her hands down, Cheshire turned to Tetch, the Mad Hatter. The character from the book she's from.
"Guess I'll desist," she said. Mad Hatter smiled.
Old Tom watched. Briefly, he was fascinated by the possibilities this technology could do for him. If he understood it, that is.
"Anyway, smaller picture, Tommy." Joker continued, "Not the case, but what's inside the case."
"My money?"
"Smaller," said Joker encouragingly.
"Wait, I remember now. It was—"
"Mm-hm. Mm-hm. Put it together."
"—the chip! The, uh, important one!"
Joker smiled again, took the case, slid the circular design off its smooth surface, and revealed a tiny silver piece that barely separated his finger and thumb. Tom briefly saw an almost invisible light blinking.
"Hidden in plain sight." Joker said, "Most people look inside a briefcase. They never look at the case itself."
"And here I thought—" Tom's hand went for his pocket.
"What?"
But he changed his mind, "No, never mind."
Joker, never one to let things well enough alone without a punchline, walked over to Tom and forcibly pulled something from the shabbily stitched sock of a pocket. Joker crushed the yellow bag in his hands to hear a crinkling sound.
"Tom," Joker said after a moment, "Is this a bag of potato chips in your pocket?"
Old Tom shivered at the Joker's tone.
"It's just, I, I couldn't be sure. You know how my memory is."
The Joker stared at him for a minute before devolving into yet another symphony of laughter. This time, it hit notes of unrestrained glee and absolute malice.
The Joker brushes a tear out of his eye, "Oh, Tommy! It really has been something working with you. I'm almost sad you have to go. You almost passed with flying colors, too."
"I'm leaving? Passed?"
Joker bounces over to Tom and puts an arm on his shoulder, "Part of this operation has been to see if you can be relied on in an organized movement." His grin became lopsided, "You didn't fail."
Old Tom didn't hear him say he succeeded either. But Old Tom could only feel the overwhelming relief warming his unsteady heart.
Joker continued, "On the slim chance we ever call you back, I'd bring my A-game if I were you."
"So…"
"Take the case!" Joker pushes it into Tom's chest, "Spend it on hearing aids if you want, but we're not calling you back!" Joker pauses, "And maybe Alzheimer's pills. That's 6-4-9-9, by the way."
"You mean—"
"Oh, open it, man! We're generous tonight! Who knows how we'll act in a few more hours?"
With the implication being obvious, Old Tom opened the case. Tom saw his money and smiled. Franklin's green face had lined every inch of the case's insides.
"It's genuine! Thank you! I don't know what to say!"
Old Tom couldn't tear his eyes away. Especially when the dollar in the center caught his eye.
Joker cracked a knuckle, "How about, 'I'm going with a smile!'"
Old Tom picked it up and saw the Joker's face grinning at him. Before Old Tom could say anything else, a high-pitched whistle wheezed out, and a green gas erupted from the bill. Tom gasped, then coughed and dropped the case. He tried to get words out of his mouth, but all he could do was giggle. That giggle turned into a chuckle, then a laugh, and the Old Tom Sawyer was stuck in a cacophony of hysterical insanity. Tom tries to will himself back to reality, but he has no strength to stop.
This isn't funny! None of this is funny!
Those are his only thoughts, as his chemically induced laughter doesn't even last a full minute. Much to the Joker's displeasure, he scoffs as the Old Tom Sawyer was too weak to laugh for more than 43 seconds.
"No!" came a voice, and Tommy was shoved by the brown-skinned teen, but Tuppence acted quicker. She pulled back her fist and punched him, crashing through the metal railing and down below the platform.
Joker shook his head despairingly, "Oh, Tom, Tom, Tom! Not even this? Kids, take this toy apart."
Tommy and Tuppence launched themselves up with flair, and at that moment, Robin awoke from his trance.
"Joker?" He said, looking at the golden bars, "A bird cage? Really?"
Joker, being used to identifying analytical eyes through black masks and white lenses, pulled out a gun, "No funny tricks, Robin, unless you want the electric bars to change your name to fried chicken!"
Down below, a wall burst apart, and Robin's spirits lifted. The familiar turbine of the Batmobile, a name he was proud to take credit for, shook off the rubble from its body as it sped to the center of the factory and did donuts around its space.
Geez, dramatic much, Bruce, thought Robin exasperatedly. But maybe that flair was all it took to add the "asper" to these "ex" masterminds! Hope was on their side today.
"Happy day, happy day, the Batman's come to play!" See, even Hatter was feeling it!
----------------------------------------
Batman and Jagger watched the Batmobile crash through the wall. The original intent had been to use the car to distract the meta twins to get to Robin and deal with Joker. But they had arrived at the moment when Tom Sawyer's life had been condemned by the Clown Prince of Crime, and that cyborg tried to intervene. Still, nothing had changed.
"Guess I can call them back for now," says the White Rabbit as his ashes had coated the support beam they were crouched on back to him. The White Rabbit peers down at his enemies. Or the enemies chosen for him. Above them on the platform, he'll come in contact with the Mad Hatter, his lips quivering soft mutterings of every verse from Lewis Carrol's novel relating to the elusive animal that brings Alice to him. He sees the Joker, the fiery red eyes alight and in tandem with his unnatural smile, and his purple-gloved finger twitching at the trigger, uncaring whether this trick is at all appropriate for the holiday. Murder is always a treat. Of course, the White Rabbit knows how much Batman disagrees.
"I'll take the Joker." Batman orders, "You collect the hostages."
"Right," the White Rabbit answers and Batman springs into action. Batman's cape stretches out and lets him glide toward the Joker, ready to snatch him away. Unfortunately, the Mad Hatter turns his head at the wrong moment and lets out a high-pitched shriek. The Joker follows his line of sight and immediately fires his gun. Two loud pops echo throughout the factory, and two bullets exit through Batman's cape. A third shot would have hit Batman's ribs, but a grappler soon pulled the Joker's gun away from him. Batman lands hunched over and stands up slowly, letting the criminals take in their nemesis.
He only needs to lead Joker and Cheshire away from Robin, and the railing to this platform had been smashed courtesy of the Terror Twins.
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"Batsy!" exclaimed the Joker, arms wide, "It's so wonderful of you to join us!"
Batman scowled, "Your 'State Tour' has reached its final destination."
Joker scoffs, "Leave the jokes to me, Guano man! Don't them blowing up in your face!" and he throws two smoking, chattering teeth at the Batman. Batman leaps off the platform and grapples underneath it to avoid the eight-foot explosion where he once was.
Joker clicks his teeth and pulls out a large knife, "Really, Bats. I can't play around all night; otherwise, we'll miss the roast chicken! Oh, all these food puns, I really should have eaten something earlier."
The Joker chases Batman, leaping over the large gap his bombs 'jaw-breakers' created. Meanwhile, the Hatter inches closer to Robin's cage. From his prison, Robin can see the girl Jagger was dancing with. Her eyes were slowly fluttering, so she couldn't wait long to return to the land of the living. Robin didn't have his belt, so the best he could do was make sure the Hatter didn't up and make himself a new Alice.
"Hatter," Robin said as casually as he could, "what's the word in Wonderland?"
Jervis Tetch stops fiddling with his remote and glances at him.
"You'll stay silent, Boy Wonder," He says venomously, "Or I'll have your hands."
Then, the Mad Hatter feels an arm on his shoulder.
"Heya Hatter!" said the White Rabbit, picking at his teeth with a pick, "I have a break in my busy schedule, so we can finally sit down for some tea!"
At first, Jervis Tetch was inclined to refuse this sore excuse of Wonderland's hurried and hassled inhabitant. But whether it was the friendly demeanor or the green glow of his eyes, the Mad Hatter hesitated. And since the White Rabbit was for once actively joining the Hatter for a party, this hesitation was simply unbecoming of the Mad Hatter.
"Well," Hatter musters a smile, "I'm pleased you can make it, Mr. Rabbit!" To which the White Rabbit inclines his head and tosses the pick away.
Somewhere further in the factory, an explosion, and maniacal laughter could be heard in a chorus of loud pops and cracks of metal and machinery. Jagger looks further down the narrow platform: he sees Logan lying down, and slowly shifting from her spot and the cold surface. Further down, there's Cheshire, the assassin who has yet to utter any sass the White Rabbit could play off of. The White Rabbit's green, glowing mask eyes always have a vibrant hue, vaguely resembling the vigorous and vigilant vision they hold.
And the Hatter snaps to his senses, feeling as though he's back in his proverbial driver's chair.
"Oh, goodness!" Tetch pulls away from Jagger and activates his remote, "Cheshire, if you please!"
Cheshire finally broke away from her motionless state and advanced on the White Rabbit. She brings out her Sais, and Jagger backflips from her. Cheshire slashes and stabs her weapons, and the White Rabbit moves through her attacks, untangling the flurry of confusion. As Cheshire continues, Jagger analyzes her passionless movements. Maybe every two seconds, he'd catch a glimpse of a familiar prowl and zeal in fighting, but as he keeps putting her on the defensive and she barely moves him two feet away from the Hatter, he knows this is a waste of time.
She leaps in the air, sais held to stab him. Jagger twists his ashes under his feet and torpedoes toward her, hands grasping her wrists. They plummet, and Jagger flips over Cheshire as she hits the platform with a heavy thump. Jagger ignores her and rushes towards the Hatter, who's fumbling with his controller.
"Now, now, now!" He says, backing toward the bird cage, "This won't do at all! It can't end like this, I won't take the—"
That was as far as he got when the birdcage slammed into his face.
"Fall." Robin said as he kicked the Hatter's face for good measure. The White Rabbit slowed down, and Robin looked up at him with a smile as the older teen inspected his face. Aside from a little cut above his right brow, a bruise on his left cheek, and a few pieces of wood in his hair, the Boy Wonder was fine.
"Thanks for the lockpick," Robin says, and Jagger nods.
"Okay," Jagger says to him, ruffling through his jacket, "Birdarangs," He handed Robin four, "explosives," He handed him two, "and a grappler." He gave him one.
"Joker's got your belt. Go help Batman."
"Thanks," Robin said, "But—"
"I'll get Cheshire."
"Okay—"
"And the Hatter and the girl, and if I have time, I'll help that new kid down there."
"New kid?" Robin asked.
"Tall hooded cyborg guy."
"Wait, but he attacked me!"
Jagger says, "Old Tom's mind control. Now go!" and before he turns around, Robin grabs his arm.
"Marlo," Robin said, and Jagger stiffened, "I trust you."
The look on Robin's face wasn't as intense as Batman's, which somehow made it worse. That a kid, only two or three years younger than him, could even come close to replicating that urging face judging his actions was cumbersome. It wasn't fair, not on his birthday. Jagger couldn't tell what he wanted to say. What could he say?
Perhaps even more unfairly, Robin turned and sprinted to where Batman and the Joker took off. Jagger watched him go, the green glowing eyes of his mask hiding the storm brewing behind them. And then he scoffs and mutters to himself:
"Pretty to think so."
The White Rabbit spins around and begins to prioritize. He rushes over to the girl, Logan, a few feet away from the cage but dangerously close to the gaping space that would send her careening to the ground as she's coming to her senses. She's groaning, and her brow scrunches up constantly, but the White Rabbit picks her up and brings her to the cage. It dangles above on a reinforced cable used for ziplining, so it takes his weight.
He mutters, "Stay here," into her ear and hops out for the Hatter. The White Rabbit grabs him, does the same, and then repeats this action again with Cheshire. Whatever this cage was meant to hold was clearly too spacious to house Robin, but the bars were just thick and close enough to hold him inside.
Jagger takes a moment to take off his mask. He looks into Old Tom Sawyer's dead green eyes one last time. Now that the threats of Cheshire and Hatter are dealt with, Jagger can properly hold his Usagi mask to his chest as he tips his head down. Jagger had once read that by staring into a man's eyes before they die, they don't travel to the afterlife alone. Even before he tricked the Hatter, that's exactly what Jagger told himself to do.
"Everyone who rides a high life falls a hard fall." Jagger said softly, "But sometimes, we're pushed. Especially in this life." Now, Jagger puts on his mask.
The White Rabbit hops inside as the three figures slump against the bars and shuts the door, the action causing the cage to hobble. The White Rabbit brings out his fans, snaps them open, and ash swirls around him. The White Rabbit bends his left knee and then slides his foot to the side. He slowly brings his right arm with it, and the White Rabbit pulls it back while kicking his left foot in the same direction. He's crouching now, left leg draped over his right, cranes his hands like wings and raises himself back to his feet. The White Rabbit thrusts his left hand to the right, then he hops in a spin.
Instead of landing, he spun around as his ashes encompassed the cage. The moonlight faded from the gaps in the bars, and the White Rabbit felt like he was floating in mid-air. But he didn't stop spinning; his speed only increased as his ashes now followed him inside the cage. The ashes swirling around the other inhabitants, now floating as well, were coated with extra ash layers. The White Rabbit kept spinning and spinning and never landed on the cage floor, which had become the wall on his left. Finally, with a loud and forceful thunk, the cage landed on the ground.
The White Rabbit pushes all his ashes away. All White Rabbit's passengers are coming to life, and he doesn't have time for theatrics. The White Rabbit steps off of the Mad Hatter's chest and pushes the cage door open. He picks up Logan and sets her down on the door as she coughs. Cheshire is next, dropping her on her feet beside the cage, though she's too unsteady to stand. Finally, the White Rabbit tosses the Hatter out, to which he's smashed through a stack of crates that fall on him.
Hatter cringes and crawls from under one of the crates. His hat has been crushed, and his forehead has a small cut. He's moaning and whimpering as he scrambles to get the crate off his body— before something crushes his hand and he screams. Jervis Tetch looks up to see the green, mask-wearing assassin glaring down with a painted smile.
"You know," she purrs, reaching for her sai, "It's one thing to ask the Cheshire cat to stay for tea." She bends down, getting closer to the Hatter, savoring the fear on his face.
"It's another thing to force my grin, Hatter." And Hatter could hear the grin beneath her mask, "Even madness can go too far."
Hatter sputtered, "B-b-but too far is never a notion in my mind!"
"Clearly," she said, raising her sai in a stabbing position, "How else could you explain your last mistake?"
Before she brought it down, something pushed her away, and as she hit the ground, she felt the weight of someone else on her. She immediately kicked them away, to which she was pulled by something elongated and coarse that flipped her on her head. She rolled to her feet and saw a flowing stream of ashes leave her torso and back to its owner.
"Cheshire, get out of here!" said the White Rabbit.
Cheshire tilted her head, "You know, I couldn't actually tell if the White Rabbit was a fever dream or if the adorable little thief really did come back in my life?"
Jagger's following words stamped away any pleasant feelings from her:
"Batman's here! Get out of here before his eyes land on you."
She said, feeling impish, "What's wrong with his eyes landing on me?" She stood straighter, running her hands down to her thighs, "Would you say there's something wrong with me?"
Jagger paused, knowing she was not going down this road. But Jagger decided unimpressed silence wasn't enough.
"Is that a trick question?"
She glared, "Little smartass."
"Feline hussy."
Cheshire walked closer, "Cats eat rabbits."
Jagger glared up at her, "My claws are bigger than yours."
"You say that often, don't you?" she laughed, as his posture resembled a little brother picking a fight with his more experienced older sister.
"Don't make me hurt you. Since I am trying to rescue you."
There was a silence between the older woman and the teenager. Now that Cheshire thought clearer, this was like a little brother bailing her out of trouble. She wondered if other girls felt this way with younger siblings. She wouldn't know, since…
But then, she needed retribution. She couldn't let this latest incident blemish her record with the League of Shadows.
"I need to kill him, you know," She said, trying to sound conversational instead of sounding bitter and low.
"Cheshire," Jagger said, removing his mask, "Tetch is crazy. Who's gonna believe he caught a professional off-guard and forced her to maybe drink out of a bowl of milk?"
Another silence.
"H-he didn't—"
"Are you sure?" Jagger said. Cheshire seemed to consider a moment longer before she seemed to shake with rage. Jagger interrupted this episode, "Besides, given enough time, maybe the Demon himself will fall victim to a random bit of stupidity so that they might forget your thing."
Cheshire now looked torn between easing her form and smacking the boy for insinuating the Demon's head would be so clumsy. Instead, she sighed.
"Fine," She put away her sai, "I'll leave."
Cheshire began running past Jagger to a stack of crates leading to a large window. Jagger's voice gave her pause.
"You know you owe me now, right?"
Cheshire turned to look at him with one eye. The gesture unnerved Jagger, but he waited for her response. In the end, she leaped through the window, disappearing into the night. The White Rabbit bent his head down but rushed back to carry Logan bridal style. He also pushed the crates away, kicked Tetch in the face, and dragged him with a long string of ashes.
The White Rabbit heard someone scream through the air, turned around, saw a large shape getting closer, and ducked as it crashed through the wall ahead of him. The White Rabbit got back up and checked to see if Logan had been hurt, the loud noise seemingly giving her a headache. So, the White Rabbit jogged away to the new exit, carefully supporting the girl's head, and feeling only slightly sorry for Tetch as his head bumped every brick on the floor.
The White Rabbit looks ahead of him: the long road leading to this old factory and the once lavish gate with a mangled metal sign that no one could read. This was an open field where a rich man would look out to view his animal-shaped bushes, although, with the complete lack of anything except wild grass and a cracked road, Jagger wondered what was here before the ruination. And leading up to the middle of this road was the cyborg, deep in a brand new crater. The White Rabbit hurries to the cyborg's side to get a good look at him: his once grey hoody is in tatters, as are his jeans. To Jagger, he appeared as a tall, African, and futuristic or cyberpunk interpretation of Hercules, with robotic parts lined with blue light circuits where muscular arms, legs, and a chest should be. His left side was metallic with a solid red eye, possibly for infrared, while his right side was unchanged, handsome, and very disoriented. He couldn't have been older than 18. The White Rabbit nudges him with his foot, and the cyborg opens his eyes.
"You look like you're having the worst day of your life," He said with a light tone. The cyborg grunted and pushed himself to his feet.
"What gave it away?" He asked, "The fact that my clothes are ruined, that I look like a freak," He took in some air, "OR THAT I WAS THROWN THROUGH A WALL!"
The White Rabbit shook away the ringing and said, "I was gonna say cause you were frowning, but yeah. All of those things."
The taller teen huffs, growls, and then walks away, muttering to himself. The White Rabbit stops him, first with a call, and then when that doesn't work, he gets in front of him.
"Hey, now! What's the matter witcha?" Jagger intoned with humor, letting his ashes dissipate a bit to seem less of a threat, "Listen, I can tell you don't wanna be here. So, Imma trade you: you take these two to the police, and I'll take care of the troublesome twins. What d'ya say, Mr. Cyborg?
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" the tattered metal man exploded, causing the masked teen to flinch, "I have a name!"
When the taller teen turned to storm off, the White Rabbit followed, "Hey, now! I'm not kidding around. Now, hurry before they get here!" The cyborg began to walk faster, "Hey if you don't want me to call you a cyborg, what do I call you?"
"Doesn't matter," And Jagger could feel the gloom and despair and bitterness from those two words.
"Look, man," Jagger decided to try a different approach, "we just met, but you don't seem like an uncaring guy who would let a cute girl like this one die to two cinder block-toothed morons, a clown, and a hat man. So, you take these two off my hands, and I'll make sure they don't bother you."
The cyborg snickered, only a few paces away from the gate, "No, you're crazy. I just hit that guy maybe five times, not a scratch on him! And I got the strength to throw a car."
Jagger said, "Well, I am crazy, and I'll still take these guys off your hand."
Finally, he turned around with a raised brow, "What? You supposed to be a superhero?"
Now it was Jagger's turn to snicker, "Hell no!" before sobering, "But I help a hobo when I can. Mechanical or otherwise."
The cyborg rounded on him, "Listen, you little snot! I'm not a damn—"
Before Jagger shoved Logan into his arms, "Great! The police are coming. Take them to the police. She's a hostage, and he's the hostage taker." As Jagger fished his pockets, Tetch stirred behind him. So Jagger used a tendril of ash to slam his face on the stone floor. "And here's $30, now get yourself new clothes."
The metallic teen suddenly held three 10s in his left finger, a girl in his arms, and now, an escaped mental patient slid next to his feet as the blonde in a rabbit mask walked back to the destroyed wall. Reluctantly, he did not put the girl down, and gently maneuvered his way to pick up the unconscious Jervis Tetch.
"Well, but—" The metallic teen called out as the rabbit mask had his back to him, "Dude, they're gonna kill you!"
"You care? We just met." Jagger asked, cracking his knuckles and neck.
The other teen shrugged, "Alright, but that's on you."
Jagger couldn't see any indifference— mainly because he wasn't looking at him, so he couldn't see him at all. But Jagger did hear at least a few more seconds of a goading silence. However, it was broken when they saw two figures emerging from the hole in the wall, and the other teen finally left him.
"It usually is." Jagger mumbled to no one. Tommy and Tuppence were encroaching on him, action in their minds and ready to bathe in blood. He snaps his fans open, catching their eye, "I wish you kept the mustaches I made you. Like Yosemite Sam and Samantha trying to catch this ratz'n fratz'n varmint."
Tuppence's eye twitched, "Know what, Tommy? Forget taking our time. Let's just kill him."
Before the White Rabbit could strike, a beeping sound was heard. The digital watch on his left hand was flashing midnight. The White Rabbit saw this chiming hour and closed his fans. Jagger puts his fans back on his ears and hangs his shoulders with a defeated sigh.
"Got someplace to be?" says Tommy. Jagger turns to them, and to their credit, they wait for him in anticipation. Jagger's fists begin to clench, and he feels his breathing hitch. Jagger can feel his grip ready to crush his mask, so he throws it away. It lands somewhere in the grass.
Jagger cracks all his fingers. His fingers are then covered in a layer of ash, then another, and finally, the ash resembles articulative boxing gloves or robotic hands of ash. The fingers, however, turn sharper and more spindly. Jagger raises these new claws and displays them as a tiger might.
Tommy's brows raised, and smirked, " Alright, now I see we're serious."
Any new words died on his lips as Jagger rushed him and his sister. In the blink of an eye, Jagger was in the air, hurtling toward Tommy. With a yell, Jagger crashed his left hand into Tommy's face, and a mini-explosion burst in his face, sending him flying off his feet. Tommy's grunt was a mix of surprise, confusion, and pain. In his mind, the question he couldn't force out was where did that come from?
Tommy skidded across the ground, almost destroying the cement underneath him, and before he could recover, Jagger struck again. Tommy moved his arm wildly to where he thought Jagger might be, but his fist suddenly felt the same mini-explosion collide with his fist before he was blinded in his face again. Tommy felt his head snap back from another strike that felt backhanded. The weight on his belly disappeared, and Tommy could finally jump up and clear his face of ashes.
"Hey," Tommy looked through the blur for the voice, "you try that again; I'll fill you with so many lefts you'll be beggin' for a right."
Tuppence jumped in the air, her first pulled back, as she dropped like a bomb to where Jagger stood. Jagger turned to face her and flipped away from Tommy while he aimed a tendril of ash toward the girl's fist. Jagger pulled with all his might, and Tuppence's fist sped toward Tommy's belly, knocking the wind out of him.
Tommy clutched his stomach in the most pain he'd felt all night. As Tommy groaned and wheezed her name out in confusion, Tuppence backed away in horror at what she'd done. She grits her teeth at Jagger but gasps when he rushes her with ash-covered fists.
Jagger slugs her with a right, causing her to spit. The teen spin-kicks an ash-protected heel at her right knee, bringing her down, and Jagger spins again in a flip as he aims his heel at her face. The ash explodes again in a brilliant flash as though he detonates grenades in her face. Tuppence is sent with a scream as he rolls away from him. She's crouched now, rubbing the soot out of her eyes. She watches Jagger stride toward her, and his ash fists morph into daggers for claws. He flexed them, as if for her sake, and they bent and moved so naturally.
"Rabbits have claws," Jagger said, his voice quiet and reserved.
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Logan heard many things that sounded like she was underwater. Which was strange since all she could feel was herself floating, cool air, and cooler metal. Slowly, however, she could hear police sirens breaking through the fog within her. She stirred, twisting and forcing her eyes open. She felt herself being laid down on coarse and hard cement. Something metallic supported her head before being replaced by what felt like a light post. Finally, her eyes were filled with flashes of red and blue, and she could hear the voices of men and women.
"This is the Mad Hatter!"
"Is he—?"
"No, he's breathing."
"Alright, cuff him."
"That girl, help her up; see what her story is in this."
"That's the missing girl! Logan Whitelock!"
Logan felt a hand on her shoulder, and the red-haired girl was looking into the eyes of a young, Asian officer.
"Logan Whitelock?" He said gently, "Are you alright? Are you injured anywhere?"
Logan didn't answer for a minute, leading the officers to scramble and help her stand up as all she could do was stare at the moon. Finally, she muttered something that the officer couldn't hear. It caught his attention, so she repeated herself.
"I was just dreaming," She smiled, "That's all it was."
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Jagger was thrown back into the ground before he flipped back to his feet to have a forearm slam into him. Before his head hit the ground, he punched an ash hand to launch an exploding ash foot into Tommy's face. Tommy staggered back, shook his head, and ran forward. Tommy threw his fist at Jagger's head, to which Jagger slid on the floor, and, from under Tommy, kicked the meta with another explosive kick.
But this time, Tommy reacted faster and grabbed Jagger's leg. He heard Tuppence running behind him, so he launched the boy to her. But two mini explosions, like firecrackers, disrupted this process, and Jagger was launched higher above his sister. Tuppence jumped in the air, caught the rabbit, and threw him to the ground like a wrestler. Jagger hit the grass, his form breaking the ground and blowing some tall grass away, but Jagger got back up. His nose bled, so he wiped away the blood; he was covered in ashes, and so were the twins, who were regrouping.
Every attack Jagger made on them would have reduced normal people to disfigured messes of meat and blood. But their high tolerance to Superman-type punches left them with the first bruises they received since they gained super strength. This did not sit well with them. As the twins looked at the tears in their clothing, they watched as Jagger, who wasn't as tough as they were, strode through the grass, only looking pissed off.
"You ruined my night," He said in a low tone, the twins inadvertently shivering, "It's over now. The sun's coming."
Before the twins could recover, Jagger rushed across the small distance with outstretched claws. The twins nodded to each other and took the charge head-on. Instead of attacking one twin, Jagger spun around and slashed at both twins like a trained ballet dancer. After another burst, Tommy flew back with a scream, landing on the old brick wall connecting to the gate. Another explosion and Jagger flipped several feet over Tuppence as her head crashed deep into the ground.
Before Jagger landed, he coiled and twisted his body mid-air to dodge bricks being hurled at him. One met flesh, and Jagger was clutching his left shoulder. He snarled, inhaled harsh and rasping breaths, and from his mouth came an inhuman sound that stunned Tommy in place. Jagger began rushing towards Tommy, before a mass crashed into him, taking Jagger off his feet. Jagger grits his teeth and throws as many bursts of flame into the back of Tuppence, but she tanks all of them and slams him through the brick wall. Jagger's body is aching, his head is ringing; as he hits the ground with the weight on top of him, he guards his face with his forearms and slithers quickly away from Tuppence's punches.
Tuppence's face is as wild as his and covered in tiny chunks of stone, one jabbed in her left nostril. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, and she kept launching her first into spots where Jagger had disappeared. Her left hand grabbed his throat, her right hand wanted to gauge his eyes, but Jagger's adjacent hand caught hers, and his leg wrapped around the one trying to choke him.
"Kill you, kill you, KILL YOU!" Was all Tuppence could think to say, and Jagger believed her. Her grip was too strong, and suddenly, all of his injuries were working to his downfall. Jagger couldn't concentrate; he was losing air, his legs lacked strength, and he could feel Tuppence crushing his other hand. But Jagger's face didn't change. It remained the same furious, dead look that Tuppence didn't care about. So, Jagger would resist the pressure, the fear, and the odds.
Story of my life, he thought, almost serenely.
Tommy was walking through the factory gate. No point since there was a gaping hole in both walls now. He watched as his twin sister went wild on Jagger. It was like sicking a pit bull on a coyote. Tommy breathed easily when he saw her hand reach his throat; the Terror twin brother couldn't understand what was about that scream from earlier what froze his blood. All he knew was that after this little bunny boy, always thinking the sun came up to hear him crow, was dead and gone, he would be more worn slap out than he thought. Not that he'd tell anyone this guy gave him and his sister more trouble than he imagined.
Tommy thought to go over and stomp on Jagger's face after watching Tup struggle for a minute or two when something caught Tommy's eye—something grey and glowing blue marching over to him with a look of determination. Tommy smirked.
"Back for more, huh?" Tommy cracked his knuckles, eager to redeem himself for that brief instance of fear. He crossed the wide gap between the factory and the building in front of it, pulled back his fist, and launched it. The cyborg caught it. Tommy threw his other first; his opponent dodged and grasped his elbow. Before he could struggle, Tommy came face to face with the taller figure.
"Here's the thing," The metal man began, "the last two days have been the worst days of my entire life." And smirked, "I'm taking it out on you."
Tuppence heard his brother scream in pain, and from the corner of her eye, she saw the metal man from earlier, raining a barrage of punches into her brother's face. This second of distraction was all Jagger needed; one last desperate ash-covered heel bursting in a face later, Tuppence released Jagger from her hold, and the boy sprang up. Ashes entwined around Jagger's feet, and launching himself back to his feet sent the other twin flying backward. She crashed next to the hole she had created, and Jagger had only five seconds.
One second: gulp as many breaths of air he lost while on the ground.
Two: reach into his pocket for a leather pouch. And cringed when his left hand throbbed with pain. That girl has a crushing grip; he pitied whoever made it past first base.
Three: look up to see her racing back to finish what she started. The mad look was gone, but she still looked eager and arrogant for Jagger's death.
Four: ignore whatever she says and open the pouch. The pouch released a stream of golden sand into his right palm. Jagger clutched this sand like he was clutching his own heart. Tuppence was three steps away from grabbing him now.
Five: open his hand and blow this sand into her face. The effect was instantaneous: Tuppence's face relaxed and dropped all its energy into smiling maliciously. The energy in her body seemed to be sapped away, like a jug of water with a hole in it, and Tuppence crashed into the ground. A second later, she was snoring loudly. Jagger sighed and felt his frame relax, but he caught himself and stood straighter. He watched to where the cyborg had backed Tommy into the wall.
"Come on, big man!" He heard him say, "Show me whatcha got! SHOW ME WHATCHA GOT!"
A second later, Tommy caught a punch and threw his own into the cyborg's face. Jagger walked over, stiffly and rigidly holding himself together, flexing every muscle in his body as the bones reconnected themselves. Jagger watched as Tommy forced his opponent to his knees, but before Jagger could pick up his pace, the cyborg's right first transformed into what looked like a cannon and blasted a bright blue beam into Tommy's gut, sending him flying away to make yet another hole through the wall connected to the gate. The cyborg's eyes widened, clearly not believing he did that. He stared at the cannon on his arm as if he were staring at….well, a cannon on his arm.
Jagger finally caught up to him, and patted him on his back, "Nice work."
Jagger saw Tommy stagger through the new hole, groaning and drunkenly regaining his bearings. He held a hand as if trying to bat away whoever was near, but his arm failed him, and he sagged like a deflated balloon. Jagger took another pile of sand into his hand, kneeled before Tommy, and blew. Before Tommy could properly glare at him, just like Tuppence, his eyes closed, and he fell asleep right between the factory and the outside.
Jagger closed the pouch, put it in his pocket, and stepped over Tommy's snoring frame. He walked a few more paces, remembering exactly where his mask landed. A few feet away from the spot where he made a crater, Jagger picked up his usagi mask. Any closer and it would have been smashed. To Jagger's eyes, the mask had a mocking glint to it, one that seemed to say 'Got that out of your system?'
Jagger rolled his eyes and walked back out of the factory. Stepping over Tommy again, Jagger saw the cyborg turning his cannon back into a hand. Jagger stood in front of him with his right hand out.
"Marlo Keith," He said, "My friends call me Jagger."
The cyborg seemed reluctant to share anything resembling a social interaction, but eventually, he nodded and took the hand in a firm grip.
"Victor Stone."
"Nice to meet you, Victor Stone," Jagger said and began walking away. "Well, good night—er, morning."
Victor Stone stared, "Aren't you hurt?"
Jagger took out his small, round music player, "Nothing my mixtape won't fix." He puts the headphones in his ears, and hums lightly, "Something in the way, hmm. Something in the way, yeah."
Victor Stone says something, so Jagger takes out an earbud to listen, and the taller teen repeats himself.
"What about these two? Aren't you gonna haul 'em off to jail?"
"The other guys will take care of it," was all he said, before disappearing into an alleyway, "Something in the way, yeah."
Now, Victor Stone threw his hands in the air, "WHAT OTHER GUYS?"
As if in answer, a loud, heart-pounding growl filled the streets, and an advanced black car pulled up in front of him. Victor took a step back, shocked before being amazed.
"Nice job, kid," said a voice behind him. Victor turned to see a dark, lurching mass of shadows on top of Tommy Tuppence. It stood up, and Victor watched as it cast a tall shadow with pointed ears.
"Yeah, seriously putting the awe in awesome," said a young voice behind him. Victor turned again to look down at a boy dressed in red, yellow, and the darkest shade of green he'd seen. Victor knew at once who these guys were.
"Hey, man," Robin held out a hand, "Robin. But I think you knew that."
Victor took it with a tired smile, "Yeah, I know." He laughed lightly, "Man, this is a long night. I didn't think I'd be shakin' hands with Boy Wonder."
Robin chuckled, "I hear that. And, uh, I'm kind of getting too old for the Boy Wonder bit. Just saying." Then he turned stern, "Anyways, don't be scared but Batman wants some answers."
Victor blinked, then turned to see Batman approaching them, his cape lurking like a phantom.
"Not here," said Batman, and Robin followed him to the Batmobile.
Damn, that's the Batmobile! Victor thought before he remembered a few details.
"Wait, what about—"
Then, Victor saw that Tuppence, still snoring, had been cuffed behind her back as she lay on her side with a black collar around her neck. The collar had three glowing dots on the front. Victor looked to the side and saw Tommy slumped against the wall with an identical collar on his neck. Robin was dragging Tuppence to sit alongside her brother, after which, he raced to the Batmobile and jumped right in.
"You comin'?"
Cyborg, appearing indifferent, shrugged, "Yeah, why not?"
Inwardly, he was becoming ecstatic.
WHY NOT?! WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND SAYS NO TO THE BATMOBILE?
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Jump City
2009 November 1, 01:48 PCT
I can't believe I said no to the Batmobile. I mean, Batman would have been more forgiving.
There was a familiar stench in this truck. One which already set Jagger on edge as he rolled the beer bottle under his boot. And the driver had kept eyeing him, knowingly and approvingly when he wasn't focused on the road. But Jagger wanted to get the hell out of Jump as quickly as possible. He also kept replaying 'Something in the Way' on his pod, probably nine times now, as it seemed to be easing his nerves.
There was no reason to stay. Jagger had fulfilled his new quota of doing one good thing on his birthday; apparently, that was a thing. So there was no reason to stay. Whatever that shooting star was, it could shoot to its heart's desire. That's why there was no reason to stay.
Shooting star?
Jagger peered through the windshield of this truck, the trajectory seeming to lead to the center of Jump, and sighed. Now, there's no way he's going to let curiosity hold him hostage to a new adventure, right?
"Change of plans: take me back there," Jagger found himself saying.
"Now," his driver said, "why would I do that?"
The man, a bulky and rough-looking man with a plaid shirt and mustache, used Jagger's tone for nights of fun. This set him further on edge.
Jagger asked, "You're gonna kidnap me, aren't you?"
The man smiled, "Now, don't you rush to conclusions; just sit back and—"
The tessen fan at his throat changed his tune, and the truck stopped.
"Okay, but seriously," Jagger said, "are you planning on kidnapping me?"
"I—" he feels the cold blade's steel, "I-I was gonna sell you to this guy I'm meeting!"
"Good," says Jagger before he flicks something at the driver's hands, and something explodes in front of the driver. Now, his hands are stuck on the wheel, thanks to a sticky substance.
"Now," Jagger ignores the man's struggles, "drive. Break the limits. Dodge pedestrians. Make sure cops chase us. Disobey, and you're dead."
The scum nods frantically and steps on it. The truck's wheels burn rubber, and they're driving toward danger.
Jagger sighs, then smiles, "No rest for the wicked."
Jump City, the strange, eventful part of California with a little bit of everything, is about to get much more. The green truck barrels through the guardrails, and the vehicle hustles down the slope. They bustled about and bounced around and tilted to their sides when they reached the bottom and sped toward the sight.
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The bright, neon green shooting star crashed violently into the pavement in front of one of Jump City's plazas. Everyone within the plaza, including the pizza joint closest to the crash, felt the shockwave blow their hair back. The crash thundered across the plaza, and pedestrians in cars and on the sidewalk gathered around the site, curiosity holding them in a death grip. From the thick green smoking cloud in the crater, a figure emerged.
It was a girl— an orange-skinned girl, with voluminous, red hair, wearing an almost-M-shaped guard over her forehead. An orange-skinned girl with glowing green eyes and a form-fitting black suit with silver trims and purple pieces of body armor. She has her hands confined in thick, bulky, inflexible white cuffs, their purpose as plain as day. And she was angry. Her glowing green eyes burned with more intensity than when she was a shooting star. And that's when she started screaming in words no one could understand.