DC: Freaky Family ch 6

Chapter 6: Unexpected Minor Complications


Magpie slowly paced around the room, always keeping one eye on the window.  Her nerves were on edge enough, and there was little she could do to distract herself.

Well, there was always the fact that Guenhivyre had returned.

She bit her lip.

Each time the thought returned unbidden to her, she was flooded with mixed emotions that threatened to send her into sensory overload.  On one hand, Guen was her friend.  The girl was kind enough for an unfortunate soul in the Rogues Gallery, and her split personality had a wicked sense of humor.  The two of them had faced down her creepy stalker together, they'd had a silly, almost normal sleepover.  So many fun, wonderful memories of laughter and a nostalgic sense of normality came to her in bittersweet reminiscent ways whenever she thought of Guenhivyre Pendragon.

On the other hand, Eddie had practically cried tears of relief at the news the winged girl was back.

Her fists clenched at her sides unconsciously, and her head hung a bit lower.

How many years had it been now, since she had begun working for the Riddler?  She'd lost count, (though she doubted it was as many as she would have liked to think,) but it still felt like an eternity.  So many times, she'd come close to telling him the truth, to revealing her feelings to him.  He made her happy, happy in a way she hadn't been since…since…

She shook her head, pushing away even older, less pleasant memories.

She should have seen this coming; she knew that the possibility of another woman snatching up Eddie was all too high, especially if she didn't work up the nerve to tell him.  But to have that woman be one of her own friends!  Someone she knew and trusted!

At one point, she had spoken with Erin about the matter, not that that had done much to help.  Erin had known—she had known—about Edward's feelings toward Guen, but limply pleaded with Magpie to let it go, because no one knew what Guen's feelings towards Eddie were, other than friendship, or if she was even aware that he liked her in a romantic light.  But it didn't matter; Magpie had been hurt enough already.  The second she could get her hands on Guen, the two of them were going to have a private discussion.

She sighed, trying to push the borderline murderous thoughts from her mind as she glanced out the window again.  Rook had left earlier, with just a quick mumbled explanation to Edward, then ducked out.  He refused to mention his intentions to anyone else, which had Magpie on guard.  Vanessa Cook did not trust Rook Greene for the life of her, and a gut suspicion told her he was up to something.  Something sneaky and underhanded.  She had learned about how close the gunman had gotten to Lancelot Pendragon two months ago, and she was willing to bet what little money she had in her pockets that Rook was secretly communicating with Lance.  Was that necessarily a bad thing?  Perhaps not, but the werewolf businessman had backstabbed Edward once already, and Magpie was not inclined to trust him.  And if Rook was in contact with him, then that meant Rook was equally untrustworthy.

"You know, they say if you scowl often enough then your face gets stuck like that," came a snide remark from somewhere behind her, "Quite a pity, you know."

The lead pipe was in her hands before she finished whirling around and she swung it wildly, only to have it come down on thin air.  He had moved before she did, and he surveyed her idly, his arms hanging lazily at his sides as the corners of his mask pushed upward with a  smile.

"You look so much cuter with that mischievous grin."

"Ragdoll." she said simply, the corner of her mouth twitching upward as she relaxed her grip on the pipe.  The contortionist flipped onto the table in the center of the room, and, balancing on his thin chest, he crossed his arms before him to support his chin.  Anyone else would have just lied down, legs sprawled out behind them, but Ragdoll bent at the waist and the knees, crossing his skinny legs like a giant X and resting each foot of the other side of his head.  He tilted his head slightly and affected a pout.

"Why so glum, honeycake?"

"Bollocks."

"Oooh, language!" he pretended to scold in a singsong voice, waggling a finger.  "Naughty, naughty, nau-ghty."

"No, not you," she sighed, "It's…complicated."

"Oh, come on now, Thieves' Code: What's yours is mine, and what's mine is also mine.  Come on, tell Raggie."  He said, tilting his head again and grinning in what he clearly hoped was a winning manner.  "I can keep a seeeecret."

For a moment, she hesitated.  She shouldn't tell anyone, really.

But then again, word would end up getting out regardless.  That was just the way of things with the Rogues Gallery.  And Ragdoll was cute when he acted like that.

She took a deep breath…



"PAPA BEEEAAAARRRRRRRR!"

Two-Face winced, rubbing the bad face of his coin to relax a little.  He hadn't been expecting Wraith to find out so quick, but the kid kept showing an uncanny knack for figuring out everything.  Hindsight was 20-20, as they always said, and the more he thought on it, the more he decided that he had seriously underestimated Wraith on more than one level.  Within moments, she was charging down the stairs, her face set in grim determination, her wings puffing in annoyance, with a fretting Mummy on her heels, and a length of flimsy-looking fabric clutched in one hand.  As she came closer, Two-Face realized she was holding an ornamental, rose-pink scarf.

"What…is…this?" she asked.  "I found it just outside your room."

"One damn expensive scarf, if I had to guess." he answered, flipping his coin casually, only to be met with an accusing glare.

"I thought you said I was your only Baby Bird, Papa Bear." she said in steely tones.

"And you are." he answered calmly.  "Can't think of anyone more worthy of being my daughter."

"So then what the hell is this?" she demanded, waving the scarf angrily.

"What are you doing with my Hermés?!" came a sudden shriek.  Without warning, a woman came running over to them, clad in a voluminous bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head, and she glared murder at Wraith as she snatched at the scarf.  "Do you have any idea how much that cost?!"

The winged girl gave her a flat look and tossed the scarf over her shoulder to Ramsey, who caught it blinking in surprise.

"No." she replied indifferently, crossing her arms.  "Who's the bimbo, Papa Bear?"

"Bimbo?" the woman said quietly, color rising in her thin cheeks.  "…You didn't tell me you had a…a kid."

"She's half-adopted.  Sort of."  Two-Face replied.  "Cassandra Derricks, this is Wraith.  Currently.  You'll know when she switches back to Guen.  Wraith, this is Cassandra.  She and I had a meeting while you were away.  She's going to be staying with us for a while."

She looked at him with a glare fit to kill.  "How long is 'a while?'"

Two-Face shrugged.  "Until Black Mask forgets that she pissed him off."

There was a brief pause as shock registered on the young rogue's face, followed by an oversized smirk, and within seconds Wraith was on the ground, rolling around and howling with laughter.

"You pissed off Black Mask?!  Oh my gawd, you idiot!  Oh gawd, Ramsey, get me some tissues!  This is too funny!!! HA HA HA HA HAAAAA!"

"Is she always this charming?" Cassandra muttered.

"Trust me," Two-Face chuckled, "You should see her on one of her bad days."



"Sir, I really do believe this is a highly unwise idea…"

"As you have mentioned at least two times prior to this one.  Trust me when I say that your opinion is noted, Mr. Montaine."

Gerard grimaced, watching the people walking on the sidewalk and staring at the blackened windows of the limosine.  His hands tightened on the steering wheel, even though the car was turned off, and he squirmed nervously.  It wasn't as though they couldn't avoid the task; Dorian had ordered Lancelot to the site of the burgled charity fundraiser, and the werewolf couldn't very well refuse.  He had to search for clues as to his younger half-sister's whereabouts, and there was really no better place to do so.

But they had arrived only minutes before to find that there were still police swarming the area, and then Lance had schemed up an absolutely ridiculous plan in order to get over there and track down the evidence they needed.  It wasn't failsafe, it wasn't foolproof, and it grated on Gerard's every nerve.  Especially the frayed sense of protectiveness he felt toward his young employer after finding that ominous letter.  However, he was a loyal man, and he would serve regardless of whatever issue he took with the matter.

"Are you ready?"

He sighed.  "As ready as I suppose I shall ever be, Mr. Pendragon."

"Open my window."

Reluctantly, he lowered the rear driver's side window.  There was a pause, a lumbering shake in the backseat, and a massive blur flew out the opening.  Gerard was stumbling out his door a second later, not needing to fake the panic.

"Get back here!  Duke, get back here!  SOMEONE CATCH THAT DOG!" he screamed, as Lance, in full, fluffy wolf form, charged like a bullet toward the roped off park.  People scattered in surprise, not wanting to get anywhere near a "dog" the size of a small bear, and even some of the police officers didn't look up in time before Lance shot past them, running until he came to the podium where the firecrackers had gone off and started sniffing.

"STOP THAT DOG!" Gerard yelled again, pointing wildly, and the other officers immediately caught on as he slowed down, going after Lance for him.  He huffed a sigh he hoped would be mistaken for panting; that should be enough to buy the young businessman just enough time to catch the scent he needed.

"What's all the commotion about over here?" demanded a voice behind him.  The back of his neck prickled in annoyance.  This was what he disliked about dealing with police officers; they were brash, rude, reckless, loud, and walked all over everyone as though their badges were a divine sign of superiority.  Still, he steeled himself, put on his best face and turned around.

"I'm sorry, Officer…" he initially meant to pause so as to be granted a name, but he ended up choking in mild surprise instead as he slowly lifted his hands.  The policeman who had come up to him was a young man—at least, he was sure it was a man—with shoulder-length blonde hair, full pouting lips, big blue eyes, and enough make-up to last until the end of the year.

Good lord, he thought, I've been accosted by an initiate member of the Gendertrap Miniskirt Brigade.

"Rossin," the policeman answered in a feminine voice, "Officer Andrew Rossin."  He tilted his head and gave Gerard an odd look.  "Is there something I can help you with, Mister…?"

"Gerard Montaine." he answered briskly, clearing his throat to cover up his uncouth reaction, "And yes, actually.  You can help me retrieve my employer's dog."

The officer's face paled under the make-up as he swallowed loudly, his eyes going wide in fear.  "Did you say…d-dog?"



The elevator flight to the roof wasn't so bad.  But it seemed to take longer with each time, and more and more it seemed the seconds would just drag on, like a lazy, overweight sloth.

"The music." Logann Zeus said to himself out loud.  "I'm going to petition to have the music changed in this stupid elevator."

Finally, the elevator came to a shuddering halt as it reached the roof, and the bell went off with a little ding as the doors slid open.  He stepped out, hefting the several bags of groceries on his arms, and three more that he carried on his lizard tail, now that there was no one around to see him.

At one point in time, the roof of the Zeus building had housed an impressive replica of a Greek temple, the supposed throne room of the Pantheon itself.  But since Maximillian Zeus had been admitted to Arkham Asylum, Logann saw fit to restore and rebuild the temple to his own liking.  To anyone looking upon it normally, it still looked as it had before, thanks to the cloaking technology that Batman had helped Incubus set up in the gargoyles surrounding the roof.  But it was just a holographic illusion set in place to keep the inquisitive at bay.  When Logan entered between the two vast Corinthian columns, the illusion fell away before his eyes, revealing a humble, one-story house.  He approached the door and knocked on it as lightly as he could, and a few seconds later, it swung open and he came inside.

"I come bearing gifts!" he said brightly.

"You went grocery shopping again?"

"Logann, you shouldn't have."

The last speaker was a man several years his senior, with red hair that had a touch of gray at the temples.  Kirk Langstrom's brown eyes stared at him sadly as he relieved the young man of some of his burden, carrying the groceries to the kitchen.

"Now, Kirk, don't belittle his kindness!" said his wife, Francine Langstrom, as she pulled the bags off the end of Logann's tail.  The young man bit his lip, reminding himself of the situation at hand.

Two months ago, he had come to Langstrom's aid when Kirk and Francine had been attacked by the werewolf, Lancelot Pendragon.  It didn't take long for Logann as Incubus, with the help of Batman, to deduce that both Emile Dorian and Achilles Milo were after Kirk, and for reasons that could mean the death of Logann, Lancelot, and their shared younger half-sister.  The three of them were the remnants of an old project funded by Roland Daggett, a project to create the ultimate mutant soldier, a perfect mix of human cunning and animal senses.  And they were all three bonded neurologically through microchips implanted in their brains, to follow the orders of the scientists responsible for their development.  For Logann, that was Langstrom.  But unlike Dorian and Milo, Langstrom wasn't ambitious and cruel, or obsessed and cruel.  But not even he could have stopped the bonding process.

Because if any of the three scientists died, so did the mutant bonded to them.  That was how deep the bond ran.

But two months ago, Logann had also learned the terrifying truth.

There was a password to deactivate the neurochips, to free him, his sister, and Lancelot.  And the only one who knew this verbal command password was Langstrom.

Unfortunately, that meant he was a target, and if the other two scientists wanted to keep their perfect little pets, they would want the password to die with Langstrom.

Dorian had gone after Langstrom the same night Batman and Incubus (and a whole crew of other people besides,) had rescued Guen and captured Milo.  Kirk had managed to escape with Francine in time, but they were no longer safe at their home.  Both men knew where they lived now.  And so, at Incubus's insistence, Langstrom had done the only thing he and his wife could do.

They disappeared.

And it was only through incredible restraint and paranoia that they had remained hidden, living here, comfortably, at the top of the Zeus building.

But Kirk was still agitated, and itching to be free, if only for a few hours.  Logann knew the feeling all too well.

"Look, don't worry, Langstrom." he said gently, following them into the kitchen.  "All you have to do is keep laying low for a little while longer."

But the scientist was already shaking his head sadly.

"You didn't see the news earlier, did you?"

"No…"

"Your sister's back.  She crashed the Skating Charity Fundraiser in the park."

Logann stiffened with shock, and Langstrom continued.

"And if we can see that plastered all over the news, they can, too."

Logann sighed, forcing his shoulders to relax.  Too many emotions were starting to flood him at once, worry for his friends the most prominent.

"Crap.  This is great, just great." he muttered.

"All the things in the world to say, and all he can come up with is 'crap.'" Francine remarked dryly, showing her rare, humorous side as she cracked a smile.  He almost retorted, when his cell phone went off and he brought it up to his ear.  "Logann."

The scientists watched as the young man's face darkened as the person over the cell phone spoke and he answered tersely.  Finally they had finished their tirade and he snapped the phone shut, working his jaw.

"What is it?" Kirk asked.

"Things just got better," Logann said sarcastically with a bitter smile, "The cops are here."