It's official! 7 years on Wattpad! Thank you for making them worth it! <3
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"Up."
I twist in the pool to look at the kitchen, wondering if Dick heard me. When his head doesn't turn from the Chinese foods he's putting on our plates, I face the hair clip on the pool side again.
"Up."
As Cyan, Eric's unique ability was gravity manipulation. It didn't occur to me until now to try it because the shock was still settling in. On a quiet Sunday afternoon spent with Dick in the pool, the thought came to me.
The hair clip suddenly flies up into the ceiling.
If I can get a handle on that, on a large scale, it will be a massive advantage.
I push back into the pool, floating there. Wearing a one piece feels weird, but it's necessary to hide Cyan from Dick.
"There! We can pretend I cooked it," Dick walks out with a plate in each hand and two cans of soda under his arm.
I laugh, "If that's what you want."
As I push myself up and out of the pool, he places lunch on the corner table. I wrap a towel around myself and join him there to see that he has done his best to arrange the Chinese takeout on plates to make it look home cooked.
"I want to see you fail to use chopsticks again," he says, putting the most complicated utensils in my world right on my plate.
"Nope. Fork," I demand, holding out my hand.
He pouts, but produces a fork from his pocket like he knew this would happen. I smirk at him and take it.
It's... Well, it's stupid. I should be investigating Grotesque. I should be checking in on Eric. I should be looking for his plans. Instead I'm eating Chinese food by the pool with my husband.
From the moment Dick woke me up, having some special fun in bed, arguing over whether to have seafood or Chinese, all I have wanted to do is stick with him.
Since I knocked out Gotham's biggest gang threat in one night, he hasn't been as busy. I've had him to myself. And I'm not even ashamed to admit that I'm happy about it.
In a few days we're going to Sunset for some mandatory 'visit to the family' in the contract. Not that we've been following it- we rarely go out for lunch or dinner, mostly because we prefer to be here with just the two of us.
"What is that?" He suddenly asks, mouth full of fried pork.
"What's what?"
He points his chopsticks at me, "What you're humming."
Humming? I glare at him suspiciously. Is he trying to be funny?
"You've been doing it all day," he says incredulously. His eyes light up, "You didn't notice? That's so cute!"
Embarrassment blooms in my chest. I swallow hard, annoyed, hoping any possible blush just blends in with the exertion of swimming and is warded off by my glare.
"Shut up."
"So what is it?" He moves on, before he hums a butchered version of the familiar song back to me. I recognise it immediately and can guess why it was on my mind.
I sigh, "It's a lullaby."
His eyes light up when he smiles. I glare at him.
"Don't say it."
"Cute!"
"You wanna go in the pool?" I threaten.
He chuckles as he easily picks up a piece of pork in his chopsticks. I lamely stab something on my own plate with a fork. I can shoot a grain of sand from miles away but I can't pick up food with two sticks.
"Sing it to me."
I look at him dully, "Am I written as the type of girl who sings lullabies?"
Other than the alphabet, I occasionally sung the lullaby for comfort while I was on mission. Though I much preferred humming it, because it was easier to pretend it was my mother singing rather than me.
But...Jack used to say I'd do it when I was happy.
And I'm happy.
"My mom used to sing it to me. She sung it to all of us. I think she still sings it to Logan," I explain, staring down at my plate.
"Sing it to me," he repeats enthusiastically.
"Absolutely not."
I glance elsewhere when I know he's pouting. That face is sadly irresistible. Learnt that lesson a long time ago.
"Before my parents had...anything, really, they were still living in Paris. My mom was home on her own a lot because my dad was working his ass off to get the business going. They lived in a run down apartment while she was pregnant with me. My mom's family had money, but they disapproved of my dad, so they weren't really much help. Dad insisted he could take care of her anyway. She used to tell me that all they really had was love, but it was also all they needed. They didn't start making money until I was about two. So the lullaby..."
He is watching me with fascination, then hopefulness, obviously thinking I'm going to sing the lullaby. I roll my eyes and recite it instead.
"Where the cliff is shady
The seabird builds a home
Petit á petit
L'oiseau fait son nid
His lady is expecting
A child born in the dawn
Petit a petit
L'oiseau fait son nid
A raging storm around him
So he works all the more
Petit a petit
L'oiseau fait son nid
Father, mother, child
Nestled to the ground
The seabird built a worthy home
Now his family's safe and sound."
Just saying it doesn't do it justice, but I refuse to sing it. Still, Dick smiles.
"'Petit á petit, l'oiseau fait son nid' means 'Little by little, the bird makes it's nest," I ramble, "She sung that every night. I think she changed it to make it less literal and more poetic when Fantasia was born, but that's the original."
"It's pretty," he says, holding my gaze and refusing to let go as he adds, "I wish you'd speak French more often. It's...sexy."
"Perv."
"You love it though," he grins.
I feel a little jolt in me when he uses the word. The worst thing is, I don't know if it's a good or bad thing. I can't stop the expression shifting on my face nor can I ignore the same change on his. He seems to feel the same way. We both regress by turning back to our plates instead of staring into each other's eyes.
"This fried rice is way better than the one we tried at that place near the manor," he says, rather quickly.
I push at it on my plate as I cringe. He's doing his best to 180º it and I can't tell if I'm happy or sad.
"Yeah."
A familiar ringing in the distance specific to my ears only cuts through my inner-turmoil. Its my squadron communicator, the one hidden by my ugly Gucci slippers.
"I'm cold, I'm going to change," I say awkwardly. When I get up my chair makes a horrible scrape along the floor, echoing the atmosphere.
I expect that to be that, another awkward situation evaded. But as I pass him with my plate in my hand and my towel on my shoulder, he reaches out and grabs my arm to stop me.
"Hey, about the other day... Are you alright?"
Glancing down at him, I'm caught off guard by the worry in his eyes. Did he even notice the awkwardness of what just happened or does he think something else ruined the moment? It did seem like he wanted to ask me something multiple times today, but he could never get it out.
This whole time, he's just wanted to know if I was okay?
My heart starts racing again when I smile at him and slide my arm from his grip until our hands are holding. I squeeze it, and his concern turns into a handsome smile. I lean down and kiss him.
"Thanks to you."
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"Thanks honey," Hallow winks at the bellboy. The young man stares at her with wide enraptured eyes right before the elevator to their penthouse closes.
"Why you gotta be you?" Demitri complains as he pours himself a drink in the kitchen.
His younger sister rolls her eyes as she crosses their vast home for the weekend, "You do the same thing."
"He does not. You and Gordon have this habit of establishing the fact that you're easy within second of meeting someone," Ethan adds as he stares out the window at Las Vegas.
"Not true," Gordon mutters from the living room, "If I did to girls what Hallow does to guys I'd be accused of all sorts of things. Flirting is a sexist ideal. Still, has anyone every resisted us?"
When Hallow collapses next to her brother the two fist bump, Gordon not looking up from his device.
"You flirting with all your little heart only to get nowhere doesn't mean we have to stop," Hallow smirks at Demitri, who can only glare.
"Just means more for us," Gordon adds.
"Will you two stop bragging about being loose for one second?" Fantasia complains, "Imagine how mom would react if she heard you talking like this."
The siblings erupt into shouts of agreement and suggestion, but Hallow casts her gaze to the floor. Fantasia notices, scrutinising over what could possibly distract her annoying sister from a chance at shouting over everyone.
"Shut up!" She shouts over her brothers, glaring at each one sharply. That gaze turns to the youngest in the room. "Why are you crying?"
"I'm not crying!" Hallow snaps, embarrassed, "I just..."
She and Gordon share a nervous look.
"What? Is it about mom?" Demitri asks nonchalantly. Ethan doesn't say anything, but his stare is more intense than the others.
"She never keeps... big secrets. Lately she's been acting strange, suspicious, like she's hiding something," no one says anything, but they all share knowing looks. "You guys remember mom's theory on LED screen light, right? It's not good for her botox? Lately she's been on her computer way more than usual. Sometimes it's just the trust fund stuff, but there's other things. Things she wouldn't let us see."
A silence hangs in the room, a confused, tense atmosphere with it. Fantasia and Demitri share blank glances for the sake of their younger sibling, while Ethan continues to stare out the window.
Suddenly, he drinks the champagne in his hand in one go.
"Vegas awaits," he announces, placing it down before heading across the room to the door.
"You're not worried?" Gordon frowns.
"Mom and dad are connected on a level we could never understand- gross," Ethan responds as he puts on his jacket. Fantasia and Demitri follow his lead. "But it's the truth. Dad's stressing more than we've ever known. Mom's just responding to it. If Cleo's not worried, I'm not worried."
The twins' concern shifts to anger, their cloudy expressions mirroring.
"Cleo's not here."
Demitri alone looks over his shoulder at that, giving his younger siblings a tight, sympathetic smile. Everyone seems to agree that Cleo's presence seems to make things easier, even if they've already spent four years without her.
"Let's go. I promised Chris that I'd try to have fun," Ethan says as he steps into the elevator. The other two follow. The twins flip them off as the doors slide shut.
"Assholes," they mutter together.
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In his line of work, Dick learned long ago that things can always be worse. Mass killings, betrayals, collateral damage, destruction....dead children, it can always get worse. Unfortunately while investigating the whole Perich Inc.-Relaysia situation, he did not consider this lesson.
Though the plans of the Relaysian rebels and (possibly) Alan Perich seemed unclear, he never thought it would be this bad.
Damian's leathered fist squeezing tightly around his staff is the only sound in the cave. Everyone holds their breath as images pass on the screen. Stephanie can't even bare to look.
Death, destruction, murdered people, butchered children, rubble where houses were.
"These images were supplied by Amanda Waller just a few minutes ago," Barbara says softly. "They are of the mass annihilation that occurred in the early hours of this morning in a Relaysian village called Masarr Al-Sa'ada. "
Oracle and Red Robin had been the first to sift through the information when it appeared on the Bat computer. Batman, Robin, Nightwing, Signal, Blackbat and Spoiler observe
"The injuries have lead ARGUS to believe it was carried out by a group of super-powered, extradited Americans, lead by one in particular. Edgar Woods, codename Grotesque."
An attractive middle-aged man appears on screen. The image seems to be taken of him in secret. It depicts him standing in a blue-lit room with bodies in bags all around him.
"He was made an enemy of the world when he murdered four hundred people in an attempt turn their bodies into energy. His plan was thwarted by ARGUS but he slipped through their fingers. He returned with a similar plan, this time on the Promethium-rich plains of Relaysia. Which, as you know-" an image of Cleo and the Rainbow of Death squad appears, "-is where Major Perich and her team were sent. Their main adversary was Grotesque and their powers also derive from Promethium technology."
"Why is he called Grotesque?" Stephanie asks.
Barbara wishes she hadn't asked. Instead of verbally responding, she opens an image on the screen to collective gasps. What can only be described as a monster appears next to the moderately handsome Edgar.
Slimy, textured grey skin stretches over a hulking fifteen foot form. Tentacles and bones protrude from its back, its front is open and within the open spiked ribcage are pulsing black organs. The legs are thin and bent like a fast animal with a jagged claw protruding from each of its four toes. The abdomen is bulging and four arms protrude with bulbous elbows and clawed, misshapen fingers. It has no neck, just a large round head with a row of red eyes around it and a mouth full of needle-like teeth.
"His condition is classified as Beastly Metamorphosis, which means this form is his natural one. It's hard for him to stay human so he and his organisation move slowly. Five years ago he was in Relaysia to mine Promethium for fuel which is codenamed Dark Life, but ARGUS don't know what his intentions were for it. It could be to sell, either privately or as a new clean energy through Perich Inc.."
An image of Alan Perich pops up.
"That theory seems less likely since any public selling would be investigated because of the transfers from Perich Inc. to Relaysia. The other theory is that the fuel will be used to power something. Before Amethyst and her squad defeated him they were unable to find anything specific."
A sample of Dark Life shows next to Alan. It's black and sparkly, oozing wonder.
"If they defeated him why is he still alive?" Robin asks flippantly, drawing a few glares.
"According to what little data we were given, he lost all but one of his tentacles, three toes, two of his organs and one of his arms to Amethyst in their final showdown. Yet he's still alive."
Dick feels a sense of pride bloom in his chest, but he doesn't show it. He wonders if she didn't kill him on purpose, or if she was aiming to. Seeing as she tore his body apart it seems like the latter.
Despite everything the monster has done, he has mixed feelings about that.
"We know that six users of Cleo's technique, Serpens Exitium, were killed in the war against Grotesque. Codenames Coral, Frost, Sapphire, Crimson, Indigo and Onyx. If ARGUS' theory is right and this is Grotesque, we're in for a big fight," Tim says.
"Agreed," Batman looks to Barbara, "The injuries are the sole reference to Edgar Woods?"
Barbara shakes her head, "There seems to be different types of...death. Some people were shrivelled, likely burnt with an unknown substance, such as an acid. The bulbs on Grotesque's elbows are known to secrete a similar liquid. A majority of the buildings were melted down. Many of the deaths occurred when people were trapped in their houses. The fire burned hotter and faster than your average flame, likely Grotesque's Inferno Breath. Some people were the opposite. Literally- and I can't believe I'm saying this -frozen and shattered. It's unconfirmed but Grotesque was assumed to have some form of ice projectile."
"However," Tim adds quickly, "the injuries vary slightly from those instances which could imply that this is a copycat."
"That's true, but it isn't necessarily a good thing. A majority of the villagers died from impact or blunt force trauma. The wound patterns and damage can be linked to Grotesque's strength. He and his enforcer Torment destroyed many villages this way. Even if this was a copycat, they're a copycat with an unimaginable amount of strength and brutality."
"With that in mind," Bruce continues, "We need to learn more about Eric Kelly and what drove him to attempt to take his life. It may very well connect to the deaths in this village." The white eyes of the cowl then move to Dick, "Do you think Cleo is aware of this event?"
Dick is immediately at a loss. Had that been on Cleo's mind all day? She was acting stranger than usual- more apprehensive, not wanting to shower with him and wanting to turn the lights off before their bedtime fun started. They might be small things but at this point, he's noticing everything.
"I think so," he admits. "There's something she's not telling me about this whole Eric thing. I mean, it traumatised her, but-" she's hiding something. He can't bring himself to say it. He doesn't want to cast the Bat's underserved suspicion on her.
"Waller is going to send out an ARGUS wide signal in an attempt to locate Sergeant Kelly's tracker tomorrow night. Are you going to be there?"
It still amazes him. Bruce can move onto something just as forward as the last question with little issue.
"You know what tomorrow is," Dick states bluntly.
Barbara eyes them from across the room, "Does she?"
He shuts his eyes, annoyed, before turning away.
"Cleo doesn't need my own...emotional weight on top of hers."
He heads over to his bike, knowing that the hard day he'll have tomorrow will only be made better by her. If she doesn't know what tomorrow is it can only be good.
She won't treat him like everyone else does on that depressing anniversary.
NOTE: I wrote the lullaby to the tune of My Jolly Sailor Bold