That old wanderlust

[fast_thrower]

It wasn't like Owen hadn't enjoyed being part of the Titans, they were a great bunch, but he just couldn't stay cooped up in some HQ all the time. He needed to get back on the road now and then. Even if he wasn't jetting off for some wild and crazy vacation, just to be on the move felt good

Comments

[tx_instruments]

"Mr. Mercer. I thought I might find you here."

The Calculator is not usually seen out and about in person, but on rare occasions, the personal touch is necessary. And it was, after all, a library.

[fast_thrower]

Owen looks down, tucking the book under his arm and sliding down the ladder, eying the newcomer.

"Can I help you? Can't say we've met."

[tx_instruments]

"No, we have not. However, I was a friend of your father's - up until his untimely demise."

He smiles, reassuringly.

"My name is Noah Kuttler - known to some as the Calculator."

[fast_thrower]

Owen keeps his cool, but there's a definite shift in his hold on the book, as his eyes scan the room. The Calculator doesn't have much of a rep for ever showing up in person, and never without muscle.

"Well... ain't that fascinatin'. You here for the free wi-fi?"

[tx_instruments]

"Not exactly. Mind if we sit down?"

Noah gestures to a nearby table.

"My first purpose in coming here is to extend my condolences regarding your father's death. He and the other Central City Rogues were the kind of criminals that I most enjoyed dealing with. Honorable men, if you looked past the lawbreaking."

[fast_thrower]

"Ever hear of 1-800-BOUQUET?" Owen mutters, sitting down with his chair a foot or so out from the table, leaning back.

"If you're here on a recruit-or-shoot call, just call in the mooks and let's get this over with."

[tx_instruments]

"Owen."

The tone is one of patient tolerance, but the message is definitely : Quiet.

"I'm not here to Shanghai you. Your ethics are far too muddled for you to work for me directly. I mean, hanging around with the Teen Titans?"

[fast_thrower]

Owen puts the flippancy in the box as well, bringing all four legs of his chair back to the floor and putting his books on the table, to the side. The look on his face isn't obedience, but more like grim courtesy.

"My ethics, and the company I keep, are my business."

[tx_instruments]

Noah chuckles.

"Of course they are. Again, this isn't a job interview. It's more of a social call. I thought you might like to know more about your father."

[fast_thrower]

That gives Owen a bit of pause.

"Like what?" He pauses, uncertain. "I don't suppose he ever told you who my mother really is, because it sure as heck wasn't Golden Glider."

[tx_instruments]

"You're correct. I have to admit, though - I don't know who your mother is. However, that fact - that I don't know - should tell you that your circumstances are unusual. I could certainly help you do research along those lines."

[fast_thrower]

Don't say anything. Nothing good will come of you asking. It would be major league stupid to ask. Don't.

"Not like I'd have the kind of bank it'd take to get hold of something you don't already know."

[tx_instruments]

"Sometimes I like to find out things to satisfy my own curiosity. Especially when they're hard to find out. Since I'd need your cooperation to start the research, I think we could waive the usual fee."

[fast_thrower]

Owen all but bites his lip.

"What would you need from me?"

He pauses. "There's one other thing. Any of Dad's safe-houses, airport lockers, anything like that. I want to know where his gear is. I'm not going to have some punk running around with his stuff like Asher with Jesse's."

[tx_instruments]

"A DNA sample would be a good start. I know you're a speedster - that's fairly rare, even as metahumans go. Any other powers you've noticed?"

He pulls a small thumb-drive out of his pocket, sliding it across the table.

"I expected the question about his safe-houses. Those are the ones I know about or reasonably suspect. You may want to chat with Len Snart to see if there are any others."

[fast_thrower]

Owen eyes him for a moment.

Hell, he's in the hero business now, right? His DNA's going to end up all over the place anyway. Not in the fun way. He may as well at least know how this bit got away.

"Alright, not here though."

He shakes his head at the questioning. "Nothing else. Catching and throwing is easy, I can 'watch' stuff go by, but any kind of foot speed hurts like a mother."

He pockets the drive. He's going to need to get someone else to check it out first, but he's not concerned about it being a bomb or anything.

"I'm not talking to 'Uncle Len' right now. Probably not for a good long while."