FIC: Fallen Angels and Broken Hearts (BoP, MA15+, sequel Darker Shades)
Title: Fallen Angels and Broken Hearts
Author: Barbd
Author's Notes: No Beta, no editing of any sort yet, this is like the version before the version, although chapters that I post will be considered as final chapters - all actual final chapters are posted to the Birds of Prey Slash Group on Yahoo! Groups.
This is a sequel to Darker Shades of Grey - which was a sequel to Shadows of a Past Life, links are available in my fic index (right hand side of the page, under the link section).
SUMMARY: Four months after the events of Darker Shades of Grey, the aftermath begins.
DINAH
“What’s in the tree, Little Bird."
"Little Bird what’s in the tree, Little Bird ... Some little nest sweet chil - Oracle, I have something.”
::Go ahead Canary::
“Two guys, blondie and a brownie, medium build, carrying … guns of some kind, I left my bird-oculars at home.”
::Bird-what?::
“I’m taking a stand for all the underappreciated semi-superheroes out there. I’m renaming all my gear after myself. Bird of Prey … bird-oculars. And I don’t want to hear you complaining, you’re the one who decided on ‘Birds of Prey’.”
Its difficult to keep balance on the tallest Wayne building and try to explain your inner most sidekick worries to a woman who never really was a sidekick. Batman had Robin, of course. And Oracle takes no prisoners
::Right. Now, about those guys with the guns?::
“Oh, right. That work thing we were doing. How could I forget?” I flip my hair over my shoulder and concentrate on the flurry of activity far below me. I really should have remembered to bring some form of binoculars.
“I think I’ll just take a tiny … trip,;” I whisper into my comm. I leap from the building before Barbara can even start to blanch at my blatant misuse of power. I really don’t understand how I can blatantly misuse something that comes as naturally to me as standing, walking or dancing … ok, maybe not dancing.
::CANARY?!::
“Yes Oracle,” I yell through the rushing of air over my face and communications necklace. I really do love to fly, such an easy and convenient way to travel, and of course - fewer accidents than driving.
//Is she doing the Superman thing again?//
I laugh loudly at the petulant tone in Huntress’ voice. I’m pretty darned sure that she’s jealous. She shouldn’t be, I can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound without thinking about it, and my natural physical strength is nothing compared to her super powers.
A loud sigh sounds in my ear. I do feel a little guilty, I know that since … the Doctors’ incident Barbara has been a little jittery about my added strength and concentration power. Or maybe she’s jealous too … I can’t help it if more parts of my brain work than the average Josephine. I didn’t ask to be this way. I just am.
Maybe she’s just a little ticked off that I answered the jeopardy questions faster than her last night. It was a total fluke, most of the topics were repeats of my senior history class just a few hours before.
That’s probably it.
“I’m being very careful Oracle, this black suit matches me perfectly to the sky above me so its very doubtful that anyone would see me, even if they did look … and if we’re totally honest, they’re more likely to run if they think Supergirl is about to swoop down on them.”
//Supergirl?//
“Sure, why not,” I mutter as I finally spot a conveniently placed ledge right above the van Blondie and Brownie are busily loading with large crates.
//I don’t think she’d be happy to hear that … I’ve met her you know.//
“That’s great,” I mutter again as my concentration splits between my grousing friend and the troublemakers below, the majority of which on the latter.
Blondie pats Brownie on the back as they laugh loudly together and do what seems to be a congratulatory chicken dance. Evil guys are such dorks.
“I think these guys are just about ready to leave Oracle.”
::Did you get a look at what they’re packing.::
“Doesn’t really matter. If they start firing I’ll pop up a shield and take them out,” I offer reasonably.
::I don’t think -::
In the four months that I have been acting like my old self, laughing, dating and generally doing teenaged things - when I’m not haunting rooftops or punching unsuspecting thieves and rapists in the nose - Barbara has managed to question every decision I have made. I have been assured by Alfred that this is just a parental prerogative.
It wears on my patience to no end.
I leap from the ledge, careful that my boots don’t crush gravel. Many hours of jumping from ledges has warned me to the danger of falling and panicking and barely managing to grab myself before becoming Dinah splat on the sidewalk.
I land softly - as usual, an extra burst of my own telekinesis managing to stop my boots from clanking onto the metal roof of the removalists truck.
I hear laughter coming from inside the warehouse, maybe I can appease the Oracle from wetting her little Oracle voice that is telling her to expect the worst. I creep quietly and slide into the truck.
“Ok, I’m in the truck.”
:: I absolutely hate it when you cut me off and don’t take my suggestions, Canary. I’ve been doing this a very long time, I’m not making this stuff up. What’s in the box?::
“Er, yeah, sorry about that. Looks like we have shotguns … but they don’t look like actual shotguns. They have a little nozzle part over the barrel.”
I pick one of the weapons up and examine the extra appendage. “Looks like a laser of some kind.”
:: Bring me a sample, and set a charge on the gas tank.::
I roll my eyes, as if I hadn’t thought of that.
“Yes oh mighty one,” I whisper under my breath as I secure the weapon to my belt and pull three … bird bombs? … charges? … explosives? … I like charges. Canary charges- from my back pocket.
Helena laughs loudly over the comm line and I swear that in the background I can hear Gabby giggling and Barbara huffing quietly.
I grin to myself and slide from the back of the vehicle onto the road and underneath to attach the charges to the underside of the gas tank. I set each one for 30 seconds and slide back out, careful of the weapon on my hip. I’m not used to wearing a weapon … I can’t believe I’m going to say this … I don’t need one, I am the weapon.
I float from the ground, softly swaying in the breeze - more relaxed now that the hardest part of the mission is over with. No need to worry now, it’s a cakewalk.
Laughter flows freely and gains volume as Blondie and Brownie happily walk from the open doors of the warehouse, heading straight for the packed vehicle.
“Oh … fuck me.”
::EXCUSE ME?!::
“They’re heading for the truck, if they get in they’re going up with it. I can’t let them die.”
//Get out of there Kid, they’re the bad guys and they went into this situation knowing they might get hurt.//
“I can’t!” I yell. “I just can’t let them die.”
I swan dive from the rooftop - much like diving into a pool, a skill I happily picked up from Helena one dark and lonely night when the only thing I could do was watch her repeatedly glide from rooftop to rooftop to burn off her excess energy.
I know I’m being paranoid - but my minds eye shows the counter at 10 seconds. Just my luck that tonight happens to be my off night. I twist my ankle as I land.
I swear loudly - loudly enough to grab the attention of the two men struggling to pull the heavy door on the truck down and secure it.
Blondie lets out a high pitched, startled yell and starts to run towards me with his gun held high.
I let out a bark of attitude and anger as he fires wildly, grazing my shoulder and sending me onto the floor. It hurts like a bitch.
I know that Oracle is yelling in my ear and that she’s sent Helena to help me for the first time in at least ten weeks. I was doing so well - four hour grid sweeps, every night for over two months. Not a problem in the world.
The truck explodes into a stark ball of light and heat, even as I try to sit up the force of the explosion sends me back onto the ground. I hit my head. Hard.
HELENA
I have to push myself to get to the warehouse district before the cops. As it is I only make it by less than a minute.
It takes me less than thirty seconds to find my broken bloody team member and have her secure on a roof high above the blazes of burning wood, truck tires and metal. If it were anyone else I would leave her to the paramedics, but its Dinah.
I wish she’d stop hitting her head, it can’t be good for her.
“She’s out cold,” I tell Barbara back in the Clocktower. I should she might mess her wheelchair with worry. “Looks like she might have hit her head and she’s got a few scratches.”
I’m sure she’ll forgive me for calling a one inch deep, two inch long gash a ‘scratch’ … maybe, in a few months.
“Hey Dinah, can you hear me?” I shake her shoulders just a little to see if I can rouse her. Shaking an unconscious person might not be the best idea in the world but if I can’t get her in the air or in a hummer in 10 she won’t have to worry about a headache, or her finals next week or wether she wants to get married in the winter or the spring.
“Pulse is even, no signs of anything broken, head wound isn’t bleeding too bad. She isn’t waking up though, better send Gabby with the hummer,” I sigh loudly.
This is probably how Barbara felt when I ran off to save every life and do good wherever I could get my hands on it. This sucks.
:: The perps and the weapons?::
“Cops are taking care of them. Tell Gabby to meet me on the west side entrance to the water park.” I bundle my precious cargo into my arms and make the short journey down three alleys and up a fire escape. Its more difficult than it seems to carry an unconscious person up a flight of very narrow stairs.
Gabby is already waiting when I finally land as softly as possible next to the curb on Westside street. She must have broken every speed limit from the Clocktower to here.
“How is she?” the little blonde woman asks as I settle her partner onto the long back bench seat and slide into the passenger seat. “Unconscious,” I smile.
Gabby rolls her eyes and tries to smile back but her worry is evident, I can tell she doesn’t appreciate the joke but doesn’t want to hurt my feelings by snapping at me.
“She’ll be ok, she’s a tough little bird.”
Gabby snorts loudly as she pulls away from the curb, “That’s the truth.”
TBC