WIP Amnesty Week - Day 4
Mar. 25th, 2010 09:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficThe Suspect: A fic in ‘The Private Life of Wonder Woman’ series, in which the Cheetah is fucking around and Rucka-era Wondy recruits a team to hunt her down and stop her.
The Charge: No one gives a crap about Wonder Woman fanfic. Plus, about half the cast is dead now.
The Judgment: A thousand words of team-gathering and foreshadowing that never even got to Scott Free.
Hungerthirstwanttaste. It all blurs together in your head, mingling with the pain. You’re used to the pain, you live with the pain, you like the pain, but sometimes it can be unbearable. You feel like you’re in the wrong skin. You’re not this frail little frame limping along, an object of pity and derision. You’re the Cheetah, hunter and slayer of men, bride of Urtzkartaga, and you hurry through your day because you live for the night.
You’re a criminal now, but you take to this life as well as you take to anything. You adapt. You survive. You were never fully on the side of angels and with your old contacts, your old expertise, and a few nights spent eating up the competition, you have a nice little empire right in her old haunts. Boston. You take a savage little joy in moving all the drugs, guns, and slaves you can fit into there. But even when the streets turn into slums and there are crack addicts on every stoop, you see the graffiti. A tribute. A threat. A promise.
WW.
***
Diana calmly plunged through the holographic side of the mountain, navigating the narrow contours of the crevice with ease. The cave was still humid and stuffy, so she dipped into an underwater river before landing in his lair. Besides, sometimes it’s fun to be dripping wet when he looks at her.
“Diana,” Bruce said, not looking up from his computer. “You could have knocked.”
She smiled. “You have a towel?”
He turned. Stared. Punched the intercom without taking his eyes off her. “Alfred, could you bring down a towel. And refreshments for our guest?”
“Tea would be fine.”
“Tea,” Bruce specified. “And a salad. Bring enough for two.”
“I’m not hungry,” she demurred.
“Then I’ll give your half to Ace.”
“Your dog eats salad?”
“He’s very well-trained.” Bruce stood, and tried to get serious. Diana saw the same little struggle play out, him trying to decide whether to play it cool and be professional or indulge the friendly part of his personality she brought out. It was part of the reason she loved dropping in on him so much. He took off his cowl, and that was it. “If this were a social call, you would’ve used the front door. What’s up?”
“Barbara Minerva.”
Bruce nodded. “The Cheetah. Gains supernatural powers by making blood sacrifices to her god-husband, Urtzkartaga. Fast, strong, and damn near invincible.”
Diana wrung her hair out. “You’ve memorized my rogue’s gallery. I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be. I memorize everyone’s rogue gallery.”
“Booster Gold.”
“Mindancer.”
“You need to get out more.”
“You offering?”
Diana tilted her head in what might’ve been a yes and might’ve been a no, but was mostly an invitation to ask. Bruce shook his head, chiding himself.
“Is the Cheetah in Gotham?”
“There’s more to life than Gotham, Bruce,” Diana said, giving him a stout look.
Alfred entered with refreshments and the fluffiest towel Diana had ever seen. She briskly toweled herself off before sitting to enjoy the tea. It was the herbal kind grown on Paradise Island. She had no idea how Bruce had gotten the leaves, or how Alfred knew how to brew them. Sometimes, Bruce’s one-upmanship reminded her of nothing so much as a little boy.
“The Cheetah’s offering sacrifices to Urtzkartaga again. So far, just criminals. But it won’t stop there. The longer the animal side of her personality is dominant, the worse it will get.”
“How’d you come by this information?” Bruce asked, sipping his tea like it wasn’t a loaded question.
“Can we just say ‘Amazon stuff’ and leave it at that?”
“We can,” Bruce said. “Salad?”
Diana looked over at the chef. “I think I am hungry after all.” She served herself some as Alfred beamed.
“I’d like to help, but Gotham needs me at the moment.”
Diana dejectedly stirred ranch dressing into her salad for a moment. “One of your operatives, then. You train the best. And I need a detective to track her down. If she’s preying on criminals, that means she’s in their world. I need your purview on that. Just give me someone you trust, for one week…”
“Explain to me ‘Amazon stuff’.”
“Is it important?”
“If it has a bearing on the case, no matter how insignificant.”
“The god of the underworld told me.”
Bruce reacted. “Improbable, but not impossible. Why didn’t you want to tell me about it?”
“Because the god of the underworld… the new god of the underworld… is Ares.”
Bruce nodded calmly.
“Come on, let me have it,” Diana said. “I’m sure you’ve got a shouting match ready…”
“We’ll talk about this at the next League meeting. And we’ll deal with it as a team.” He stressed the final word, making her meet his eyes. “As for a detective, I have just the man.”
***
The Drake household hadn’t been the same since it’d come out that Tim was Robin. His father had forbidden him from capes except for what he grudgingly referred to as emergencies. Which meant no patrols, no training, and Steph doing the majority of his duties. Is this the end of the Boy Wonder? he asked himself melodramatically. And what about Steph? Would he have to just stay at home and worry about her?
Turnabout really sucked.
He came home from school, straight home on a junky moped that just couldn’t compare to the old Redbird. When he pulled into the drive-way, his moped bumped into something. Something that wasn’t there.
Sighing, Tim parked his moped and walked up the lawn, running his hand over the cool hull of the invisible jet parked in front of his house. “Hi mom, hi dad, hi Princess Diana,” he said once through the front door.
Diana was ethereal, out of place in his house. All the Drakes’ upper-middle-class trappings looked tacky in her presence. Dana had taken out the good wine and Diana appeared to enjoy it.
Jack Drake stood. “Hey son. How was school?”
“It was cool.”
“Your friend Diana was just telling us about a time Young Justice had worked with the Justice League and she got to see you…” He slowed, gripped by the same kind of embarrassment you got when you met a teacher at the store, “on the job.”
The Charge: No one gives a crap about Wonder Woman fanfic. Plus, about half the cast is dead now.
The Judgment: A thousand words of team-gathering and foreshadowing that never even got to Scott Free.
Hungerthirstwanttaste. It all blurs together in your head, mingling with the pain. You’re used to the pain, you live with the pain, you like the pain, but sometimes it can be unbearable. You feel like you’re in the wrong skin. You’re not this frail little frame limping along, an object of pity and derision. You’re the Cheetah, hunter and slayer of men, bride of Urtzkartaga, and you hurry through your day because you live for the night.
You’re a criminal now, but you take to this life as well as you take to anything. You adapt. You survive. You were never fully on the side of angels and with your old contacts, your old expertise, and a few nights spent eating up the competition, you have a nice little empire right in her old haunts. Boston. You take a savage little joy in moving all the drugs, guns, and slaves you can fit into there. But even when the streets turn into slums and there are crack addicts on every stoop, you see the graffiti. A tribute. A threat. A promise.
WW.
***
Diana calmly plunged through the holographic side of the mountain, navigating the narrow contours of the crevice with ease. The cave was still humid and stuffy, so she dipped into an underwater river before landing in his lair. Besides, sometimes it’s fun to be dripping wet when he looks at her.
“Diana,” Bruce said, not looking up from his computer. “You could have knocked.”
She smiled. “You have a towel?”
He turned. Stared. Punched the intercom without taking his eyes off her. “Alfred, could you bring down a towel. And refreshments for our guest?”
“Tea would be fine.”
“Tea,” Bruce specified. “And a salad. Bring enough for two.”
“I’m not hungry,” she demurred.
“Then I’ll give your half to Ace.”
“Your dog eats salad?”
“He’s very well-trained.” Bruce stood, and tried to get serious. Diana saw the same little struggle play out, him trying to decide whether to play it cool and be professional or indulge the friendly part of his personality she brought out. It was part of the reason she loved dropping in on him so much. He took off his cowl, and that was it. “If this were a social call, you would’ve used the front door. What’s up?”
“Barbara Minerva.”
Bruce nodded. “The Cheetah. Gains supernatural powers by making blood sacrifices to her god-husband, Urtzkartaga. Fast, strong, and damn near invincible.”
Diana wrung her hair out. “You’ve memorized my rogue’s gallery. I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be. I memorize everyone’s rogue gallery.”
“Booster Gold.”
“Mindancer.”
“You need to get out more.”
“You offering?”
Diana tilted her head in what might’ve been a yes and might’ve been a no, but was mostly an invitation to ask. Bruce shook his head, chiding himself.
“Is the Cheetah in Gotham?”
“There’s more to life than Gotham, Bruce,” Diana said, giving him a stout look.
Alfred entered with refreshments and the fluffiest towel Diana had ever seen. She briskly toweled herself off before sitting to enjoy the tea. It was the herbal kind grown on Paradise Island. She had no idea how Bruce had gotten the leaves, or how Alfred knew how to brew them. Sometimes, Bruce’s one-upmanship reminded her of nothing so much as a little boy.
“The Cheetah’s offering sacrifices to Urtzkartaga again. So far, just criminals. But it won’t stop there. The longer the animal side of her personality is dominant, the worse it will get.”
“How’d you come by this information?” Bruce asked, sipping his tea like it wasn’t a loaded question.
“Can we just say ‘Amazon stuff’ and leave it at that?”
“We can,” Bruce said. “Salad?”
Diana looked over at the chef. “I think I am hungry after all.” She served herself some as Alfred beamed.
“I’d like to help, but Gotham needs me at the moment.”
Diana dejectedly stirred ranch dressing into her salad for a moment. “One of your operatives, then. You train the best. And I need a detective to track her down. If she’s preying on criminals, that means she’s in their world. I need your purview on that. Just give me someone you trust, for one week…”
“Explain to me ‘Amazon stuff’.”
“Is it important?”
“If it has a bearing on the case, no matter how insignificant.”
“The god of the underworld told me.”
Bruce reacted. “Improbable, but not impossible. Why didn’t you want to tell me about it?”
“Because the god of the underworld… the new god of the underworld… is Ares.”
Bruce nodded calmly.
“Come on, let me have it,” Diana said. “I’m sure you’ve got a shouting match ready…”
“We’ll talk about this at the next League meeting. And we’ll deal with it as a team.” He stressed the final word, making her meet his eyes. “As for a detective, I have just the man.”
***
The Drake household hadn’t been the same since it’d come out that Tim was Robin. His father had forbidden him from capes except for what he grudgingly referred to as emergencies. Which meant no patrols, no training, and Steph doing the majority of his duties. Is this the end of the Boy Wonder? he asked himself melodramatically. And what about Steph? Would he have to just stay at home and worry about her?
Turnabout really sucked.
He came home from school, straight home on a junky moped that just couldn’t compare to the old Redbird. When he pulled into the drive-way, his moped bumped into something. Something that wasn’t there.
Sighing, Tim parked his moped and walked up the lawn, running his hand over the cool hull of the invisible jet parked in front of his house. “Hi mom, hi dad, hi Princess Diana,” he said once through the front door.
Diana was ethereal, out of place in his house. All the Drakes’ upper-middle-class trappings looked tacky in her presence. Dana had taken out the good wine and Diana appeared to enjoy it.
Jack Drake stood. “Hey son. How was school?”
“It was cool.”
“Your friend Diana was just telling us about a time Young Justice had worked with the Justice League and she got to see you…” He slowed, gripped by the same kind of embarrassment you got when you met a teacher at the store, “on the job.”
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no subject
Date: 2010-03-25 02:31 pm (UTC)Anyways, that bit with the tea and one-upmanship was hilariously awesome. Of course if Batman is going to be awesome and have Amazonian tea, Alfred is totally going to be awesome at knowing how to serve it!