Crossover with DCAU Part 2
Back for second part. Sudden comicverse angst. The JLA are very confused.
It took a grand total of ten minutes for there to be a knock on the door.
Hartley timed it. Hell, he stared right at his mother's grandfather clock, chewing on his bottom lip and straining his ears. He didn't even notice the fact that he was suddenly freckle-less and clean-shaven, or the fact that his hair was longer and copper-coloured, rather than dark auburn. All that mattered was that voice on the other end of the phone, and that he could hear breathing upstairs.
Jerrie was okay.
Well, he had already known that Jerrie was okay. When Wally had told him he was clear of charges, he learned that Jerrie was alive and well, in federal custody, but the point was that he was allowed to see her and that she was happy and loved to tell him stories about all of the new things that she learned everyday. But now, he knew she was fine, and Hartley sat by the door, staring at the clock, hands shaking and heart pounding so fast that he thought he would be sick. He didn't think he could handle it if this was just a delusion. He just couldn't. Fuck...
And then he could hear it.
Every person in a very, very specific way, and James was no exception. The man had never left his aerialist roots, and he still moved like an acrobat, with a defined grace that only maybe Nightwing could match, and even then, Grayson moved like a martial artist most of the time, and James didn't.
And yes, Hartley was crying when he threw open the door and somehow managed to tackle James to the ground, even though the blonde had been at least two meters off the ground. But honestly, with everything he had been through lately, he had a fucking right to react like this. His best friend not only coming back from the dead, but also going back to just the way he was, without all the homophobic bullshit, and without being an agent for the feds, and wearing those stupid stripes with that same smile? Hartley deserved to get a little emotional. And honestly, he didn't even care that James would probably take this as Hartley hitting on him or something, the redhead still buried his face in James's shoulder and tried really hard to just focus on the fact that his best friend was alive.
"Hey...hey, it's okay, Piper-puppy, really, it's okay." James said, and that just brought on a new round of clenching the blond tighter, because that was the nickname that the blond used on him back in the old days, when the Rogues were together and there was just silly puns and bags with dollar-signs and no death...
"Hartley, I'm right here, I'm fine, see? Who else could have such a brilliant fashion sense?" James said, flashing a grin and briefly running a hand through Piper's long hair, before quickly jerking back and mumbling a quick apology. Sobering up at this, Hartley finally managed to stop his steel-grip on the blond, and he backed away, rubbing his green sleeve over his eyes to try and get the tears away.
"Sorry Tricks...I know how much you hate it when I touch you and get all gay on you." At this, the Trickster opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again several times, his face progressively getting redder in time with his heartbeat racing. Finally, he rose a few feet in the air, hiding his face in his hands.
"Shit...fuck, dammit! I had a whole speech prepared for making all of that up to you, I really did, but...dammit! I just...dammit!"
Piper blinked. He had honestly expected the Trickster to just brush it off and laugh, and honestly, Piper would have let it go. But...he had known the blond for a long time. He knew when James was being genuine, not even he was good enough to mask micro-expressions. And he was honestly flustered, apologetic, and at a genuine loss of words.
"Come here, idiot. Stop that. I forgive you."
James spun around, eyes wide. "Even after...?"
"It was just banter. I know. You didn't mean any of it, though anyone else would have suspected that you were just so far in the closet-"
"PIPER!" James said, face bright red. Hartley smirked. Yep, just as he thought. "Piper, why are you dressed like you were ten years ago?" James suddenly asked. Obvious aversion technique. Damn, he must be really flustered to be acting like this.
"I...honestly have no idea."
------
"How do you know my name?" The Flash asked, suddenly slamming against the bars, knuckles gripping the iron so tight that they were seen against the red fabric. Wally's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Cold blinked, completely unprepared for this reaction.
"Did Zatanna mess with ya, Flash?" Digger asked, standing up and approaching the speedster warily, and Cold saw that his hand was itching toward his waist. Wherever they were, Cold noticed that Digger had somehow gotten a hand on a barbell and had hidden it somewhere on his person. It wasn't even two pounds-but with Digger, any projectile could be dangerous.
Whatever weird situation they were in, it was at least nice to know that they had been provided weapons. Otherwise, that was just unfair.
"No, but you're coming with me, Boomerang. The other Rogues have been working with the Legion of Doom, and I'm not letting the chance to catch them slip by."
At that, Cold couldn't help but laugh. Legion of Doom? It sounded like the name of one of Blue Devil's movies. Who the hell would straight-up call themselves a Legion of Doom? The Flash had to be joking about that.
And besides. Everyone knew that the Rogues were pretending to work on the good side.
Pretending.
Because with heroes, no one knew who was really good anymore.
"What's so funny, Captain Cold?" Batman asked, appearing from the shadows like the drama queen he was. Ahh, that explained the Flash's behavior. Taking lessons from the Batman.
"Just that name. It's just...ridiculous. You sure you're not chasing a prank from the Trickster?" The name was bitter on his mouth. It just felt wrong to call the punk by Jesse's M.O., even if he was a traitor in the end.
"You and I both know that he's not capable of that." Flash said, his voice suddenly stern and...defensive? Maybe it was because Axel was a kid.
"Yeah sure, maybe he's not smart enough to fool the entire league, but you, Flash? Certainly." His voice was suddenly bitter, the familiar insults stinging on his tongue. It was so fucking ironic.
"You leave James out of this!" The Flash snapped. Boomerang's head shot up.
"James is dead. You know this." There was a sharp edge to Digger's voice. "Top is dead. Rainbow Raider is dead. Golden Glider is dead. Mirror Master, the real one, is dead. We're done, Flash. We're done."
Slowly, the scarlet speedster took a few steps back, eyes wide.
"What are you...? What happened? What...what did they do?"
"You too bloody busy with your head up your own arse to notice?" Boomerang snapped, throwing himself against the bars. "Or do ya just not care? Is that it? We're just nothin' but targets, aren't we? Ya never stop to think about what we may have done to end up like this, isn't it, ya bleedin' bastards? You never think about that!"
And then suddenly, Batman was face-to-face with Captain Boomerang, and the Aussie just grinned, his voice suddenly soft.
"Ya going ta do me in, Bats?"
The door opened, and Batman instead tied cords around the Captain Cold's wrists.
"You both are going with us."
Captain Cold smirked.
"Go," he said softly to the Australian, and, for once, being under the familiar leadership was a comfort. Boomerang threw the barbell as hard as he could at the Flash, and the speedster, too lost in his thoughts, didn't notice the projectile before it knocked him out. Of course, the Gotham hero did, but Captain Cold had him slammed against the wall, throwing his entire upper-body strength against the Batman while Boomerang smirked, nicking a few Batarangs.
"Thanks, mate."
Both were out the window, and out of sight, before the alarm bells went off.
------
To say it was awkward was probably the understatement of the Millennia.
Roscoe was awkwardly shifting in his seat, eyes averted from everyone, while Mick was in the kitchen, playing with a few gas burners to try and distract himself.
"Really surprised those things still work." Mark commented as he played with his wand, alternating between creating small clouds and snowflakes. Sam just watched with a grimace, trying to figure out why everyone was acting so damn awkward. He was about to open his mouth and say something, when someone suddenly crashed through the ceiling.
Well.
It wasn't like the ceiling was well-built to begin with. The shack looked like they hadn't used it in years...which, in truth, they didn't. But even so...
"I wasn't even robbing a bank this time...and it wasn't even the Flash...don't know what his problem was, I was just trying to get supplies..." the person said, standing up and brushing himself off. The rest of the rogues just blinked in surprise.
The person was wearing a black hoodie and black jeans, with a red scarf around their neck. Had that been it, they wouldn't have figured it out, but the orange goggles were a complete, dead giveaway.
"Roy...?" Sam asked, and the colourblind artist jumped, then spun around to stare at Sam.
"O-ohh, I'm so sorry Mirror Master! I thought you were still in jail, so I started...using this place as a...err, studio! I had no idea the Rogues were back in business! I...I'll just leave then!" And the artist flipped a switch on his goggles and started to create a beam to leave on, when Mark jumped up and grabbed his sleeve.
"No, Roy! We thought you were dead!"
"Wait...what?"
------
A/N
Yes, I made my own DCAU Rainbow Raider. Sue me. And the Pipster is just going to be teased...unless you want some actual kisses.
It took a grand total of ten minutes for there to be a knock on the door.
Hartley timed it. Hell, he stared right at his mother's grandfather clock, chewing on his bottom lip and straining his ears. He didn't even notice the fact that he was suddenly freckle-less and clean-shaven, or the fact that his hair was longer and copper-coloured, rather than dark auburn. All that mattered was that voice on the other end of the phone, and that he could hear breathing upstairs.
Jerrie was okay.
Well, he had already known that Jerrie was okay. When Wally had told him he was clear of charges, he learned that Jerrie was alive and well, in federal custody, but the point was that he was allowed to see her and that she was happy and loved to tell him stories about all of the new things that she learned everyday. But now, he knew she was fine, and Hartley sat by the door, staring at the clock, hands shaking and heart pounding so fast that he thought he would be sick. He didn't think he could handle it if this was just a delusion. He just couldn't. Fuck...
And then he could hear it.
Every person in a very, very specific way, and James was no exception. The man had never left his aerialist roots, and he still moved like an acrobat, with a defined grace that only maybe Nightwing could match, and even then, Grayson moved like a martial artist most of the time, and James didn't.
And yes, Hartley was crying when he threw open the door and somehow managed to tackle James to the ground, even though the blonde had been at least two meters off the ground. But honestly, with everything he had been through lately, he had a fucking right to react like this. His best friend not only coming back from the dead, but also going back to just the way he was, without all the homophobic bullshit, and without being an agent for the feds, and wearing those stupid stripes with that same smile? Hartley deserved to get a little emotional. And honestly, he didn't even care that James would probably take this as Hartley hitting on him or something, the redhead still buried his face in James's shoulder and tried really hard to just focus on the fact that his best friend was alive.
"Hey...hey, it's okay, Piper-puppy, really, it's okay." James said, and that just brought on a new round of clenching the blond tighter, because that was the nickname that the blond used on him back in the old days, when the Rogues were together and there was just silly puns and bags with dollar-signs and no death...
"Hartley, I'm right here, I'm fine, see? Who else could have such a brilliant fashion sense?" James said, flashing a grin and briefly running a hand through Piper's long hair, before quickly jerking back and mumbling a quick apology. Sobering up at this, Hartley finally managed to stop his steel-grip on the blond, and he backed away, rubbing his green sleeve over his eyes to try and get the tears away.
"Sorry Tricks...I know how much you hate it when I touch you and get all gay on you." At this, the Trickster opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again several times, his face progressively getting redder in time with his heartbeat racing. Finally, he rose a few feet in the air, hiding his face in his hands.
"Shit...fuck, dammit! I had a whole speech prepared for making all of that up to you, I really did, but...dammit! I just...dammit!"
Piper blinked. He had honestly expected the Trickster to just brush it off and laugh, and honestly, Piper would have let it go. But...he had known the blond for a long time. He knew when James was being genuine, not even he was good enough to mask micro-expressions. And he was honestly flustered, apologetic, and at a genuine loss of words.
"Come here, idiot. Stop that. I forgive you."
James spun around, eyes wide. "Even after...?"
"It was just banter. I know. You didn't mean any of it, though anyone else would have suspected that you were just so far in the closet-"
"PIPER!" James said, face bright red. Hartley smirked. Yep, just as he thought. "Piper, why are you dressed like you were ten years ago?" James suddenly asked. Obvious aversion technique. Damn, he must be really flustered to be acting like this.
"I...honestly have no idea."
------
"How do you know my name?" The Flash asked, suddenly slamming against the bars, knuckles gripping the iron so tight that they were seen against the red fabric. Wally's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Cold blinked, completely unprepared for this reaction.
"Did Zatanna mess with ya, Flash?" Digger asked, standing up and approaching the speedster warily, and Cold saw that his hand was itching toward his waist. Wherever they were, Cold noticed that Digger had somehow gotten a hand on a barbell and had hidden it somewhere on his person. It wasn't even two pounds-but with Digger, any projectile could be dangerous.
Whatever weird situation they were in, it was at least nice to know that they had been provided weapons. Otherwise, that was just unfair.
"No, but you're coming with me, Boomerang. The other Rogues have been working with the Legion of Doom, and I'm not letting the chance to catch them slip by."
At that, Cold couldn't help but laugh. Legion of Doom? It sounded like the name of one of Blue Devil's movies. Who the hell would straight-up call themselves a Legion of Doom? The Flash had to be joking about that.
And besides. Everyone knew that the Rogues were pretending to work on the good side.
Pretending.
Because with heroes, no one knew who was really good anymore.
"What's so funny, Captain Cold?" Batman asked, appearing from the shadows like the drama queen he was. Ahh, that explained the Flash's behavior. Taking lessons from the Batman.
"Just that name. It's just...ridiculous. You sure you're not chasing a prank from the Trickster?" The name was bitter on his mouth. It just felt wrong to call the punk by Jesse's M.O., even if he was a traitor in the end.
"You and I both know that he's not capable of that." Flash said, his voice suddenly stern and...defensive? Maybe it was because Axel was a kid.
"Yeah sure, maybe he's not smart enough to fool the entire league, but you, Flash? Certainly." His voice was suddenly bitter, the familiar insults stinging on his tongue. It was so fucking ironic.
"You leave James out of this!" The Flash snapped. Boomerang's head shot up.
"James is dead. You know this." There was a sharp edge to Digger's voice. "Top is dead. Rainbow Raider is dead. Golden Glider is dead. Mirror Master, the real one, is dead. We're done, Flash. We're done."
Slowly, the scarlet speedster took a few steps back, eyes wide.
"What are you...? What happened? What...what did they do?"
"You too bloody busy with your head up your own arse to notice?" Boomerang snapped, throwing himself against the bars. "Or do ya just not care? Is that it? We're just nothin' but targets, aren't we? Ya never stop to think about what we may have done to end up like this, isn't it, ya bleedin' bastards? You never think about that!"
And then suddenly, Batman was face-to-face with Captain Boomerang, and the Aussie just grinned, his voice suddenly soft.
"Ya going ta do me in, Bats?"
The door opened, and Batman instead tied cords around the Captain Cold's wrists.
"You both are going with us."
Captain Cold smirked.
"Go," he said softly to the Australian, and, for once, being under the familiar leadership was a comfort. Boomerang threw the barbell as hard as he could at the Flash, and the speedster, too lost in his thoughts, didn't notice the projectile before it knocked him out. Of course, the Gotham hero did, but Captain Cold had him slammed against the wall, throwing his entire upper-body strength against the Batman while Boomerang smirked, nicking a few Batarangs.
"Thanks, mate."
Both were out the window, and out of sight, before the alarm bells went off.
------
To say it was awkward was probably the understatement of the Millennia.
Roscoe was awkwardly shifting in his seat, eyes averted from everyone, while Mick was in the kitchen, playing with a few gas burners to try and distract himself.
"Really surprised those things still work." Mark commented as he played with his wand, alternating between creating small clouds and snowflakes. Sam just watched with a grimace, trying to figure out why everyone was acting so damn awkward. He was about to open his mouth and say something, when someone suddenly crashed through the ceiling.
Well.
It wasn't like the ceiling was well-built to begin with. The shack looked like they hadn't used it in years...which, in truth, they didn't. But even so...
"I wasn't even robbing a bank this time...and it wasn't even the Flash...don't know what his problem was, I was just trying to get supplies..." the person said, standing up and brushing himself off. The rest of the rogues just blinked in surprise.
The person was wearing a black hoodie and black jeans, with a red scarf around their neck. Had that been it, they wouldn't have figured it out, but the orange goggles were a complete, dead giveaway.
"Roy...?" Sam asked, and the colourblind artist jumped, then spun around to stare at Sam.
"O-ohh, I'm so sorry Mirror Master! I thought you were still in jail, so I started...using this place as a...err, studio! I had no idea the Rogues were back in business! I...I'll just leave then!" And the artist flipped a switch on his goggles and started to create a beam to leave on, when Mark jumped up and grabbed his sleeve.
"No, Roy! We thought you were dead!"
"Wait...what?"
------
A/N
Yes, I made my own DCAU Rainbow Raider. Sue me. And the Pipster is just going to be teased...unless you want some actual kisses.