Fic: The Dangers of Boosting Tires
Fandom: DC Comics
Title: The Dangers of Boosting Tires
Characters: Booster Gold (sorta?), Jason Todd, Batman
Rating: G
Prompt: #24, Skinner Box
Word Count: 558
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.
A/N: AU. It occured to me one day, that, really, the biggest difference between Booster and Jason is time. Truly, this could only end in one way. *Proceeds to ignore the Even Robins Curse*
---
"Jason, are you sure this is a good idea?" the blond youth asked, nervously wringing his hands around a lug wrench.
"'Course I'm sure," the black-haired boy answered. "I do this all the time. Now quit whining, or I'm not gonna help you."
"Please, Jason, I need your help. I need the money. Ma’s getting real sick, and I-"
"And I know, Mike. You already told me, and I already said I'd help, so quit your moaning and--hey! Look at that piece of work!" Jason stopped abruptly and pointed to a peculiar-looking automobile.
"Wow, that's a pretty fancy car," Mike observed. "What's it doin' in this part of town? Doesn't fit."
"Whatever it's doin' here, I sure hope it's worth loosing its tires for," Jason said with a grin, heading toward the vehicle.
"You've gotta be kidding! We're gonna steal the tires offa that car?" Mike followed Jason, despite his incredulity.
"Of course we are! Serves them right, too, if they're gonna be dumb enough to leave a fancy thing like that all alone. We're just lucky enough to get to it first!" Jason explained. "Now, come on, Mike; those tires aren't gonna unscrew themselves, y'know."
"Yeah, I know. Still don't like it, though," Mike muttered as he approached the car and began removing one of the tires.
"Remember, you're the one who asked for my help."
"I know, I know."
They continued their work in silence for a time, until, suddenly, a hand pulled Mike into the air by the back of his shirt and he caught sight of Jason running away before he found himself staring at a black-cowled head that was way too close for comfort.
Quickly filled with terror, Mike squeaked out a hesitant "Um, hi?"
The man in the cowl growled back at him. "What are you doing?"
"I, um, I, I," Mike stuttered before gasping and babbling, "I was stealing your tires and I'm really really sorry and I didn't really want to do it but Jason said it was OK and that he does this sort of thing all the time and he never gets caught and I really need the money 'cuz my mom's getting really really sick and I think she's dying and I don't want her to die 'cuz she's my mom and all and Dad's not around anymore and I don't know what I'd do if Ma died and I don't wanna be an orphan 'cuz I hear that real bad stuff happens in orphanages like they separate siblings and stuff and I don't wanna loose Shel and Ma and I'm really really sorry really and I'll never do it again and I'll be a really good boy forever and ever and please don't kill me, please!"
Silence drifted over the street in the wake of Mike's rant as the man's cowl shifted in such a way as to suggest that an eyebrow was being raised under it. Then, just as suddenly as he'd been snatched up, Mike was dropped back to the ground.
"Get in the car." It was most definitely not a request.
"Um, I'm not supposed to accept rides from strangers," Mike answered without really thinking about it, getting back to his feet and wiping some dirt off the seat of his pants.
"Get. In. The car," the looming figure repeated.
"Um, yessir."
Title: The Dangers of Boosting Tires
Characters: Booster Gold (sorta?), Jason Todd, Batman
Rating: G
Prompt: #24, Skinner Box
Word Count: 558
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.
A/N: AU. It occured to me one day, that, really, the biggest difference between Booster and Jason is time. Truly, this could only end in one way. *Proceeds to ignore the Even Robins Curse*
---
"Jason, are you sure this is a good idea?" the blond youth asked, nervously wringing his hands around a lug wrench.
"'Course I'm sure," the black-haired boy answered. "I do this all the time. Now quit whining, or I'm not gonna help you."
"Please, Jason, I need your help. I need the money. Ma’s getting real sick, and I-"
"And I know, Mike. You already told me, and I already said I'd help, so quit your moaning and--hey! Look at that piece of work!" Jason stopped abruptly and pointed to a peculiar-looking automobile.
"Wow, that's a pretty fancy car," Mike observed. "What's it doin' in this part of town? Doesn't fit."
"Whatever it's doin' here, I sure hope it's worth loosing its tires for," Jason said with a grin, heading toward the vehicle.
"You've gotta be kidding! We're gonna steal the tires offa that car?" Mike followed Jason, despite his incredulity.
"Of course we are! Serves them right, too, if they're gonna be dumb enough to leave a fancy thing like that all alone. We're just lucky enough to get to it first!" Jason explained. "Now, come on, Mike; those tires aren't gonna unscrew themselves, y'know."
"Yeah, I know. Still don't like it, though," Mike muttered as he approached the car and began removing one of the tires.
"Remember, you're the one who asked for my help."
"I know, I know."
They continued their work in silence for a time, until, suddenly, a hand pulled Mike into the air by the back of his shirt and he caught sight of Jason running away before he found himself staring at a black-cowled head that was way too close for comfort.
Quickly filled with terror, Mike squeaked out a hesitant "Um, hi?"
The man in the cowl growled back at him. "What are you doing?"
"I, um, I, I," Mike stuttered before gasping and babbling, "I was stealing your tires and I'm really really sorry and I didn't really want to do it but Jason said it was OK and that he does this sort of thing all the time and he never gets caught and I really need the money 'cuz my mom's getting really really sick and I think she's dying and I don't want her to die 'cuz she's my mom and all and Dad's not around anymore and I don't know what I'd do if Ma died and I don't wanna be an orphan 'cuz I hear that real bad stuff happens in orphanages like they separate siblings and stuff and I don't wanna loose Shel and Ma and I'm really really sorry really and I'll never do it again and I'll be a really good boy forever and ever and please don't kill me, please!"
Silence drifted over the street in the wake of Mike's rant as the man's cowl shifted in such a way as to suggest that an eyebrow was being raised under it. Then, just as suddenly as he'd been snatched up, Mike was dropped back to the ground.
"Get in the car." It was most definitely not a request.
"Um, I'm not supposed to accept rides from strangers," Mike answered without really thinking about it, getting back to his feet and wiping some dirt off the seat of his pants.
"Get. In. The car," the looming figure repeated.
"Um, yessir."