August 8, 2010 - Happy Harbor, RI
Happy Harbor High School
22:07:08
“She’s getting away! You’re letting her get away!” Dr. Roquette shouted in the sudden quiet of the computer lab as the last traces of the smoke bomb dissipated.
Ms. Martian raised her hands to placate the outburst, taking a serene tone. “Please calm yourself, Doctor. Our priority is your safety, not chasing Assassins.” She answered, but her answer failed to mollify Roquette who hugged herself.
“Pursuing the Assassin would just let her lead us into an ambush or let one of her compatriots take a shot, while we’d be down a team member.” Apollo stated as he plucked arrows out of the wall and returned them to his quiver. He closely inspected one that had been deflected by the Assassin’s sword, and apparently found it wanting as he tossed it back down.
Superboy shared a surprised look with Kid Quick.
That’s… a really good point.
“How do you know so much about the Shadows?” Kid asked in a sharp tone.
Apollo’s flat look was his only answer as he finished retrieving his intact arrows, and turned sharply away with a twirl of his cloak.
Kid was agape at the snub, and clenched her teeth.
“Who ARE you!?” She demanded, but Apollo just walked away, his expression frosty.
Turning to Superboy, Kid waved at Apollo and looked for support, her suspicion written on her face.
“We don’t know this guy! We just met him, he acts like he knows all about the Assassins, and now they’re on to us! Come on, you see it, right?” Kid asked.
Superboy’s face fell as he met Kid’s gaze, his disappointment in her equally plain. He took a deep breath, to calm himself and hopefully lower the tension.
“That’s not fair, Kid, and you know it. Yeah, we just met Apollo, but you had known me for less time when we teamed up in Cadmus. And I even attacked you three. Does that make me an infiltrator, or whatever you’re accusing him of?” He asked hotly. Apollo’s gaze snapped to him, a considering look on his face.
“That was different!” Kid explained. “You were mind controlled by the g’nomes and junk. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yeah, but you still trusted me after that to fight with you. When you arguably shouldn’t have. What if they had reasserted control, or Cadmus had subliminal programming put in my head?” He contended, but the thought worried him.
What if they still do? Gizmo would let me know, or Ms. Martian, but what if they can’t see it?
The thought that he was secretly a Manchurian Candidate opened a whole new vista of existential dread for him. How would he even know he was one? Should he really be arguing he couldn’t be trusted?
He shook the thought off. It was a distraction and he needed all his focus right now.
“Its still… different.” Kid continued.
Kid Quick: Besides, we did all that ‘stuff’ after. Of course I trust you…
Kid’s lascivious thoughts weren’t exactly tinged pink with erotic charge, but they were close. Ms. Martian and Apollo’s angry reply was in telepathic stereo.
Ms. Martian & Apollo: We heard that!
“Dang it!” Kid shouted as she facepalmed, but at least she walked away from another confrontation with Apollo. She stalked away to brood in the far corner. The golden archer was leaning back against the whiteboard opposite her and fingering his bow. He glared at Kid before switching his ire to Superboy, and his lip curled again.
Superboy felt… strange, at that reaction. He was embarrassed, as his reddened face conveyed. Kid’s inability to keep anything on the down low had struck again. Whatever Apollo was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it as he shook his head and looked away from Superboy. Which only left Superboy more confused.
I can’t really react in whatever way he’s looking for if I don’t know what he’s looking for.
It was all very frustrating and confusing to Superboy, who was needed to focus on protecting their charge and didn't have the bandwidth for all of this drama.
“Look, we need a plan. Aqualass and Robin are on their way to deal with the Fog. How do we deal with the Assassins?” Superboy asked, opening the floor.
“We stick to the doc and keep them off of her.” Kid replied quickly.
“Weren’t you listening?” Apollo demanded of her. “They’re Assassins, their entire job is knowing who the bodyguards are and taking out the target anyway. Now there are fewer of us and they know who we are and what we can do.”
Kid’s face screwed up like she was going to argue, but she stopped and looked more thoughtful as she digested Apollo’s points.
“Well, then what’s your suggestion, new guy?” She asked, slightly more conciliatory now but still petulant.
Apollo considered for a moment, eyes darting around, before he spoke.
“We need to move. She’s already had a chance to case the place. After that, I’ve got some ideas.”
“I agree.” Ms. Martian declared, levitating down to the floor.
Ms. Martian: We’re moving the doctor.
********
They moved through the darkened streets of Happy Harbor’s modest downtown. Kid zoomed ahead, slow enough to stay quiet and only a darker blur against the gloom of night. She was scouting ahead and making sure their likely locations were clear. Ms. Martian flew overwatch, her camouflage on and acting as their telepathic switchboard. Their hope of spotting Assassin supervillains before they struck was slim, but there was no reason not to try. Superboy and Apollo covered Dr. Roquette, one ahead and one behind, while the doctor glanced fearfully at every shadow.
Superboy was in the lead, staying close to the doctor, hoping to block any attacks coming her way. Apollo was behind, watching their rear with an arrow nocked. He moved swiftly and quietly, and made it look easy. For all his power, Superboy felt clumsy next to the smaller teen. Soon, they arrived at their destination; a dockside cafe, half built on the pier in the bay. With a gesture from Ms. Martian, the door unlocked itself and they slipped inside. Dr. Roquette swiftly moved to the PC at the register, booting it up and getting back to work.
Superboy posted himself by the door, leaning against the wall between it and the bay windows, trying to keep himself from being silhouetted. The lapping of the waves against the pier reached his ears, and the rustle of the leaves across the street, but no Assassins.
Not yet, anyway.
The cafe was large and had a lot of windows, including skylights on the raised roof. He wasn’t sure why they had picked it. The place seemed even less defensible than the school had been. Anxious, he asked the obvious question.
Superboy: So what’s the plan?
Apollo: Misdirection. Kid, find us another spot for the doc to work. Ms. Martian, take Dr. Roquette’s form. Doc moves to the secondary location, we guard the fake doctor here, and let the Assassins come to us.
Kid Quick: Hey, you’re not the squad leader, Ms. M is!
Ms. Martian: Kid, find us another spot for the doctor to work, please.
The face Kid Quick pulled made Superboy chuckle, and she looked at him, betrayed. He put up his hands and shrugged an apology, but she obeyed, zipping back out into the night with barely a ring from the bell hanging from the front door. He turned back to Apollo, waiting to hear more. Ms. Martian seemed pleased that Beta Squad was at least working together, at all, instead of fighting each other.
Superboy: What if they don’t take the bait? If one of us is gone, they’ll be suspicious, won’t they?
Apollo: That’s why we’ll all be here.
Superboy turned to Ms. Martian in shock. Dr. Roquette looked green as she heard the plan Apollo was laying out. Ms. Martian was literally a green Dr. Roquette, but now they were a much closer shade. Clearly, the Martian was interested in differentiating them until she heard more of Apollo’s scheme. Returning Superboy’s look, she shrugged, letting Apollo continue.
Apollo: We set Dr. Roquette up at the secondary location, and then we wait for the Assassins to come to us. So long as doc is working, we’re getting closer to our win condition and stopping the Fog. Once that’s done, they shouldn’t care anymore. We need to stall for as much time as possible, and let Aqualass and Robin deal with the Fog.
Superboy: You want to leave the doc unprotected?!
He was painfully aware that while the mission was the whole team’s, bodyguarding Dr. Roquette was his job. He couldn’t do that from a distance. Anxiety gripped him; fear for the doctor’s safety and fear of failing the trust placed in him.
Apollo: There are no plans without risk. But the Fog is the real threat, and taking it out is the priority.
Superboy: Her SAFETY is the priority.
Apollo: As soon as the Fog is neutralized, she WILL be safe. We can’t keep dodging Assassins, one of them is going to get lucky. Bunkering down is exactly what Assassins are trained to expect and prepare for. We’re going to give them what they expect but play keepaway with the target. Then we take their pieces off the board to give doc the time to finish the virus.
Their comms crackled to life as Aqualass’ serene but strained voice came over the airwaves.
“Aqualad to Ms. Martian. We are over Philadelphia. We have located the League of Assassin’s next target; STAR Labs.”
Hope briefly soared that the day was saved, but it was swiftly dashed.
“We were too late. Its completely destroyed.”
“The Fog decimated it. STAR Labs is cutting edge science. And now its tech is in the hands of the League of Assassins.” Robin added grimly. “This is bad. What’s our next move?”
“Rescan for the Fog, we have to track it.” Aqualass ordered.
“But they’ll find us again…” Superboy trailed off, worriedly checking on Dr. Roquette, who was ignoring the proceedings (and her green doppelganger) to finish the virus.
“Good.” Apollo said with a grin.
********
Superboy sighed as he crouched in the bushes, across the street from the cafe. Streetlights illuminated the road in puddles of light, the only vehicle a parked white panel van in front of him. He rubbed his temples to soothe the migraine that two of the team inside were giving him.
Superboy: Stop it. Both of you.
Apollo & Kid Quick: What?
Superboy: I can feel you two glaring at each other. And this job sucks enough without the headache you’re giving me. Seriously, why do all our plans involve me getting beaten up?
Kid Quick: Because you’re our big blue indestructible Boy Scout?
Her telepathic transmission was light and airy, which made Superboy feel better. She hadn’t liked the plan when she got back from her scouting for another location, and he’d only prevented another fight with Apollo by asking her what happened at the school. Hearing that she had been ambushed and almost drowned in the pool, until Ms. Martian saved her, had frozen his heart for a second and he’d drawn her into a fierce hug. She’d been surprised, but returned it warmly, assuring him she was alright.
He hadn’t needed to look to see Apollo’s disgust. The mindlink had carried it well enough, but he ignored it. Kid had been mollified enough to not raise a further stink by putting him out on the line as bait. The Assassins weren’t likely to have brought a kryptonite shuriken or anything, so he was safe enough.
Superboy: I wasn’t a Boy Scout.
The sheer disbelief across the mindlink was nearly a physical thing.
Superboy: …I was a Cub Scout.
Kid Quick: Daww, that’s adorable.
Apollo’s eyeroll stretched past the physical plane and into the mindscape, letting them all experience it psychically.
But that still left him out in the bushes, and as he was telepathically alerted that the Fog tracker was back online, he prepared to play his part in the production. Moving to another piece of cover, leaning up against a tree, he waved at no one and broke his silence.
“Ms. Martian, stay in camouflage and make a wide perimeter sweep.” He ordered, then crouched back down. His acting felt terrible, but as far as they knew, the enemy hadn’t cottoned on to the mindlink yet, so they would be more likely to buy the verbal orders. They just had to hope the Assassins believed he was the one giving orders, another thing Kid had objected about and Apollo took offense to. Superboy had put his foot down and quashed the fight before it started, though.
He knelt behind the tree, keeping an eye on the cafe and making it obvious what he was looking for. The plan called for him to make it obvious and amateurish, which had stung a bit. Because he felt authentically obvious and amateurish. Now it was just a waiting game.
But the waiting proved longer than he expected. Dr. Roquette’s trace had gone out minutes ago. The green Assassin should already be here, and they assumed she would be bringing back up to even the numbers.
His musings were interrupted by a thwip sound and something sticky sprayed across his shoulders. He only had a second to look up into the darkened tree canopy before the red strands sticking to his shoulders went taut and hauled him skyward. There was a blur in the darkness and someone put both feet into his solar plexus and launched him out into the street, where he impacted against the panel van, leaving a dent shaped like himself in it. He grinned as he peeled himself out of it, before schooling his expression.
Superboy: They bought it!
Swinging out of the tree top was a male figure in black and purple armored bodysuit, with clunky black goggles that had eight, beady orange cameras clustered on it. He swung on a line of red thread, and did a backflip before landing in a crouch before Superboy. There was even a black spider embroidered on his mask and torso.
Getting back to his feet after peeling his way out of the van, Superboy laughed at the expy before him.
“Are you sure you’re in the right universe? You keep working in that get up, you’re gonna get sued.” He joked, laughing at the absurdity of another companies’ characters intruding on this universe.
The arachnid Assassin simply inclined his head in curiosity without replying, then snapped his arms up to fire more of his webbing at Superboy’s ankles. The red webbing sprayed from devices on his forearms, ejecting right above his wrist. Superboy jerked a foot out of the way of one, but the other caught his left ankle and the spidery slayer grabbed that webline with both hands and hauled away on it, jerking Superboy’s foot from under him. He hit the ground and was dragged forward, while his opponent leapt into the air and twisted in mid air, bringing down the point of his right boot. While he did so, a long, bladed talon popped out from the top of his boot, gleaming in the street light. Twisting desperately out of the way, the foot blade came down and sheared through the asphalt instead of his torso.
Superboy sprang up and shook off the webbing and charged his enemy, throwing a punch that the foe dodged with impossible grace.
“So what do they call you? Purple Spider, Black Arachnid? Wait, I know! The Itsy-Bitsy-Not-So-Friendly-Neighborhood-Spider-Jerk!” He laughed as he traded witty banter. Well, offered witty banter; this spider was much less talkative than he had hoped.
“What’s wrong, spider got you-” Pain exploded in his head as he was interrupted by a devastating blow to the back of the head. Instantly he ate asphalt as he went down hard, stars swimming behind his eyes. He groaned, then remembered to go limp. Shutting his eyes, he played dead.
Footsteps, two more sets. One heavy, two light, one of those familiar. The green assassin. The heavy footsteps behind him; the one who got the drop on him, with a punch like an iron bar. That one made little electronic and mechanical noises as they walked; some kind of cybernetic.
“The Martian could return any second, and I’m not keen on evening their odds. We end Roquette now.” Came her fierce voice, slightly muffled behind her mask. Facedown on the ground, he smiled to himself. Then he heard the patter of their feet as they moved on the cafe.
Superboy: Three hostiles, the green Assassin, purple and black Spider-Guy, shoots webs, very dodgy, taloned boots. The third guy I didn’t see but he walloped me; some kinda cyborg by the sound of it.
Ms. Martian: Good job, Superboy! Get to Dr. Roquette, we’ll handle things here.
Still smiling, he slowly rose to his feet. He couldn't see the Assassins infiltrating the building, and there was no time to check. He had to trust the team.
He turned and sprinted down the street towards the internet cafe where Dr. Roquette was stashed, desperately hoping the plan was working and the Assassins were the ones being fooled, and not the team.