Fic: Parental Controls
Moar happyverse....
Title: Parental Controls
Author: Katzedecimal
Rating: T
Characters: Pipster, Batman, Robin, Green Arrow, Speedy
Summary: Piper visits his family. Nothing can go wrong with that!
When one thinks of street musicians, one thinks of guitars or maybe violins, not flutes. When one thinks of street musicians at all. The receptionist at Rathaway Publishing didn't, which is why she was the first to slump over when the flute music drifted in from outside. The security guard in the corner noticed and had just enough time to slap the panic button before he too made a deposit at the sleep bank. So when the revolving doors span and admitted the cloaked figure in the ridiculous costume, he was met by several guards.
"Tch. Didn't anybody teach you boys never to point guns at people?" the flautist said, his music uninterrupted, "You boys look tired, you need your beauty sleep. Especially you, cutie, but you won't remember I said that. Bye now."
If a Rogue strides through a foyer but there's nobody awake to hear him, does he still make a sound?
The elevator dinged and the executive secretary slumped over her keyboard, causing her computer to whine and lock up. The finance manager reached for the phone but found he could move his hand no further.
"Morning, Mr. Aikins. I need three cheques, please, for these amounts and payable to these people. Don't worry about authorisations, it's on my authority. Osgood will sign them, though, so it's all nice and tidy for your books."
"You!!"
"Oh, speak of the devil and you see his horniness," Piper smirked and turned around, never taking the flute from his lips, "Hello, Osgood, I was just going up to see you. What are you doing on the sub-prime levels? Shagging the junior purchasing agent again or are you screwing the third floor receptionist literally as well as figuratively?"
"You... What are you doing here?!"
"I'm here to correct a little oversight of yours," Piper said pleasantly, "You know, when you decided in your frivolous way to tear down that apartment building, to build a casino... Really, a casino? Don't you think you're rich enough without laundering drug money? Well anyways, you seem to have overlooked that many people, y'know, live in those apartments. You know, people with families? Oh right, why should you care about other people's children, you don't even care about your own..."
"You are going too far, young--*"
"Shut up," Piper said mildly. Osgood fumed as his mouth suddenly refused to work. "Did I tell you to speak? I don't recall telling you to speak. Did I tell him to speak? No? Right. There was me feeling a bit retarded, for a moment." Osgood clenched his fists, unable to speak or move. "Anyways, Osgood, I'd like you to sign these cheques for me, please, and I'll deliver them to the Keystone Foundation for the Homeless, since you've, y'know, made a lot of people homeless and all." He picked up a cheque and feigned surprise, "Oh my, and some of them are even your own employees! So, not only are you underpaying them, you even take their homes away from them. Really, is that fair? Is that right? And you're supposed to be a pillar of society." The music swelled a bit louder and Osgood's hands shook as the compulsion took him over. "So sign the cheques please, and I'll be on my way to make about a hundred and seventy lives a little bit easier. Of course, it'll be credit to me, not to you, because while I might be a thief, you, frankly, are a crook. Thaaaaaank you," Piper picked up one of the cheques and turned to address an office clerk, "Hi Carlotta.. Yes, cool, isn't it? Lots of breath control and of course I'm very good with my mouth. Would you take this down to Vanessa in Reception? I understand she's going to be needing at the end of the month when her home gets torn down to make way for a casino. Compliments of the Pied Piper, if you will. Thank you!"
He picked up the other cheques and tucked them into his belt pouch then bowed, "That's all, thank you for your patience, everyone, all those that I didn't have to put to sleep... Oh and all those that I did, they'll wake up in about two hours. They'll have nasty headaches of course, but they'll be fine. Ciao!"
Piper was about half way back to his car when he stopped and listened intently, then blew a sudden loud, sharp note on his flute. The figure slowed, slowed, slowed, became a red and yellow blur... Piper blinked, his crafty expression changing to a bright smile, "Oh hi Kid Flash, how are you?" Kid Flash yelped as the sonic field suddenly released him and he crashed into a wall. "Oh, geez, sorry!"
"Ow," Kid Flash straightened up and rubbed his nose, "Y'know, I heard the words 'Rathaway Publishing' on the police band and I thought 'I'll just bet that's Pied Piper.'" He grinned, "So what're you up to this time?"
"Heard about that casino?"
Kid Flash lost the grin. "Heck yeah! They're evicting a hundred and seventy people for that! They've given them until the end of the month to find another place to live and that's two weeks away!"
"Guess who the landowner is," Piper jerked his thumb back over his shoulder, gesturing towards the Rathaway Publishing building. He held up the cheques, "I'm helping them make a donation to the Keystone Homeless Foundation."
"Ohhhhhhhh. Who's the other one for?"
"Gambi's niece and her baby. She lives in that building."
"Not skimming a little off the top for yourself?"
Piper's face darkened, "It's my father's -- No."
Kid Flash nodded then frowned, "No polka-dots today? What's with the sweater?"
Piper blushed magenta and scratched the back of his head, "Ah... I figure the world doesn't want to know that I've got a new sweetheart..."
"Huh?"
".... who likes to... draw on my chest with henna paste."
Kid Flash burst out laughing, "Oh this I've got to see! Is it dirty?"
"No, no, it's just a heart..."
"Oh c'mon c'mon c'mon, show me, you gotta show me..." Piper glanced around then hitched up his sweater to show the teak-coloured valentine around the letters G.G. + H.R. on his pale chest. Kid Flash doubled over laughing and he dropped the sweater back down, bright pink and grinning. "'G.G.' huh? Not Golden Glider?"
Piper made a face, "Are you kidding me? Captain Cold's sister?! Whaddya think I am, insane?" Kid Flash laughed again and Piper grinned. "By the way, they're holding a shindig to open this casino project tonight," he said, "I plan to buzz it. But don't worry, I plan only to dog the media and put a lid on any thoughts Osgood might have of trying to spin this in his favour. Nothing else."
Kid Flash nodded and looked thoughtful, "I know some people who'll be there. I'll let them know so they don't have to worry about it."
Piper grinned, "Not taking me in?"
"Only crime I see here is costumed vigilante action and I'm guilty of that one too," Kid Flash's grin matched Piper's, "See ya, Piper, have fun tonight!"
"Catch ya later, Wally."
* * * *
"I'm back!" Piper listened but there was no sound of life in the apartment -- he was back; Trickster wasn't. He stepped in and went to the bedroom to find his street clothes, then out to the kitchen to find something to drink.
It was pretty obvious why James wasn't off the market, he thought as he looked around. The place looked like a daycare center. The kitchen walls sported pale blue wallpaper with little sailboats and a tile backsplash of yellow duckies. The tablecloth was covered with tragedy/comedy masks. A model railroad ran through the apartment, clearly inspired by Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. There was a Big Red Button marked "Do Not Push" on the living room wall (Piper knew idiot bait when he saw it.)
The bedroom was even worse, being painted in yellow and pale blue stripes with airplane mobiles hanging from the ceiling. The bed was shaped like a Formula-1 racing car and was dressed with Star Wars sheets (this morning's now-stained ReBoot sheets being wadded up in the R2-D2 laundry basket.) There were shelves full of plushies and super-hero action figures, and the amount of Flash paraphenalia should be disturbing, given that their owner was one of Flash's enemies. The Power Girl body pillow (complete with magical cleavage window) had Piper laughing, however.
Women wanted men, not boys, and did not like men who acted like little children. Piper knew this; he'd listened to many of his female friends vent about it. At length. Often. At least James Jesse was honest about it. Looked at through the mundane eye, the decor screamed of a man with severe Peter Pan syndrome.
To Piper, it said something else. Although the decor had startled him, what had really surprised him was how comfortable he felt here. To Piper, the decor made a point: You can't date James Jesse without dating the Trickster.
The press called him a Rogue but the press called any enemy of the Flash a Rogue. Underground, a Rogue was specifically a member of Captain Cold's gang, as Piper was. Although the Trickster had teamed up with various Rogues from time to time, he was as much an outsider to them as he was to the Flash, and just as apt to taunt them. Captain Cold demanded loyalty of his Rogues and the Trickster was likely to turn on them, steal their take, even give it back, rendering all of their work and planning useless. It seemed the Trickster's only loyalty was to himself.
Although possibly not. Piper glanced at the time then scribbled a note and taped it to the fridge, then grabbed his gear and headed home to feed his rats.
And was surprised to find Trickster already there, sitting on the floor surrounded by the rats. He was cuddling one of the girls, stroking her fur and scritching under her ears and chin. And singing to her, softly, under his breath. Piper tilted his head, endeared - nobody else ever sung to his rats. Trickster looked up and startled, "Oh hi! I came in through the window. I didn't know when you'd be back so I figured I should stop by and feed your rats before we got distracted."
Piper nodded, "I left a note at your place. I'm impressed you got through my home security." He took a set of keys - Charley's - off the wall and tossed them over to James.
"It was not easy," James said, pleased, "Very challenging and worth every minute. I loved it. Your phone's been ringing off the hook by the way. Went well, did it?"
"You betcha," Piper smiled and flipped on the TV. He turned it to the news then sat on the floor beside James and let the rats swarm up over him, kissing them all hello. The news was all over the daring daylight heist by the Sultan of Sound, the Maestro of Malevolence -- the Pied Piper! ...although the homeless-charity angle was kind of killing the 'malevolence' part.
"What's this one called again?" James held up the little white bundle of bliss he'd been politely torturing.
"That's Rune. She's got that rune-shaped mark on her shoulder." Roger Johannsen, chief financial officer of Rathaway Publishing, was indignantly condemning the abuse and human injury suffered by himself and others at the hands of the nefarious Rogue. Piper rolled his eyes, "You weren't even there, ya dipshit!"
"'...Flash is supposed to protect innocent citizens from these super-villains but where was he?' Channel Seven asked that question of Flash's protege, Kid Flash, who had this to say: '..was at Titans Tower, I came as soon as I could. I can run faster than gossip, sure, but I have to hear about it first. If there's a delay in me learning about a situation, yeah I'm going to get there too late!'"
"Is that really how it went down?"
"Fuck no, he caught me as I was leaving," Piper chuckled, "I warned him about our sting tonight, though." The phone kept ringing. Piper ignored it, letting the answering machine pick up each call. "..eeeeep* Piper! Dude!!! OMG I saw the news!!! You da man, bruvvah!!!! Man I am proud to call you a brother!!!" "*beeeep* Piper you so rock!!! Call me man we are SO buying you a drink!!" "*eeeep* Piper? So, yeah man, I saw the news... So, you think maybe we could get together on Thursday? Maybe try it again?" "*beeeep* ...Mr. Piper? it's.. I'm Maria Gambi... my uncle gave me.... thank you... *sob* thank you Mr. Piper... God and Jesus bless you Mr. Piper... thank you..."
"I found her a place," James said, leaning to nuzzle and kiss under Piper's ear, "I stopped off at Gambi's, it's all set up. I didn't even have to lean on them that hard. Could only get it rent-controlled for two years though."
Piper snorted, "In this city, that's generous." He tipped his head to kiss James playfully.
The phone rang. "There's that old woman again," James commented, tweaking open the buttons on Piper's shirt and raking his nails lightly down his chest.
Piper arched an eyebrow and smirked, "Oh I'll just bet." Half-way through the answering machine message, he got up and picked up the phone, "Helllllo, Mommy Dearest."
James nodded to himself; he'd suspected the old woman might be Hartley's mother, the way she ranted on in her messages. He got a wicked little grin and reached for the fly of Hartley's pants.
"...Pretty easily, really, it's no different from hypnotising anyone else... ah!! ... No. No. NO!" Hartley said over the slurping sounds, "What part of 'no' are you having trouble understanding? Obviously I Jaa-aaames, stop it! ...I come by my stupidity honestly. If you.. nngh If you think I'm just going to... what?"
"I'll harden you up until you flip me over the countertop and fuck me 'til I scream," James murmured, just loud enough to be picked up by the phone. There was a pregnant pause, then Hartley yanked the phone away from his ear and even James could hear the screech of "HARTLEY! What on earth are you doing?!"
"Well you said to pick up this instant, not even considering whether I might be in the middle of something," Piper said nastily. His grin gave James an idea of where the 'Maestro of Malevolence' moniker might have come from. "I don't see what you're so upset about. I had to listen to you when you were getting playful with John London and Marnie Sor--*" He put the phone down and laughed until tears ran down his face. "Oh, I love you!!"
"I l'v you t', m'hhear 'A'tley."
"Now, what was this about the countertop?"
* * * *
"Flutes?"
"Check."
"Flying shoes?"
"Check."
"Tuning forks?"
"Check."
"Assorted rubber chickens?"
"Check."
"Yo-yos?"
"Check."
"Chocolate pudding bombs?"
Piper paused with an odd expression, "I'm picturing how that's going to look."
"That's the point!" Trickster beamed. He peered out over the crowd, "Now, which one's your little sister?"
"Ummmm.... There she is, over there."
Trickster looked to see a young woman a few years younger than Hartley, being led around by her mother. "Who dressed her up like that? If she's mentally four, they shouldn't have her in a dress like that."
"They're trying to marry her off," Piper said darkly.
James saw his expression. "So we're taking her with us when we leave?"
"I wish I could," Piper said, "But right now, I can't. I'm still working on the debt and I'm in jail too often. I can't care for Jerrie properly, I don't have the means right now. I'd have to put her in a home and I really don't want to do that to her. As much as I hate to say it, she's better off where she is, for now." James nodded and squeezed his hand, noticing the shadows of anguish in Hartley's eyes.
On the ballroom floor, Osgood Rathaway was entertaining the media, bragging about the sizeable donation he made to the Keystone Foundation for the Homeless, why he even assisted one of his own employees who had the misfortune of living in that tenement, really the building was past its prime, run-down, no amount of renovation could improve it, it was time to let it go...
A pudding bomb hit him squarely in the chest, splattering him with brown goo.
"Liar!" a shrill voice screeched from above, "Li-arrrr! Anybody who saw the news today knows what a liar you are, Osbad Rathaway, taking credit for someone else's achievement!" A maelstrom of blue, orange and yellow descended on blue pixie boots, "Today's acts of vigilante justice were brought to you by none other than the Sultan of Socialism, the Composer of Compassion, the Maestro of Mercy, your friend - and definitely mine! - the Pied Piper!"
An explosion of fireworks and coloured smoke went off, revealing Piper standing with his flute to his lips and a baffled expression as his 'don't-notice-me' tune was suddenly disrupted. He glanced around, plainly caught off guard. "What's with the fanfare?"
"You deserve it, you're on!"
"Ohh-kay," Piper shook his head and shrugged, "Hi everybody! The donation? - yeah, that was me. Just like Ozzie to take all the credit though..."
Trickster watched while Piper took the press into the palms of his hands, then activated his light refraction generator and gradually faded into the background. He looked around at the people. Most were confused, some frightened. Some were making fun of their costumes, which showed that they were doing what they were designed to do. Some people just never got it and that made them easy pickin's. Two teenaged boys, almost men, hung near the buffet table, watching with quiet intensity. They moved with more self-control than average and Trickster marked them as persons of interest. Another person of interest was the blond fellow in the Armani suit -- come on, that beard was a dead giveaway, who else had a beard like that? Probably Flash asked him to drop in, keep a quiet eye on things.
Much more interesting was Rachel Rathaway. She was standing next to a dark-haired man in an expensive suit, staring at her son in impotent fury, unable to do or say anything without giving away their dread family secret. Her daughter stood beside her, gazing at her toes, standing in the chest-up-hip-out pose as Mommy had taught her. Rachel swallowed her bile and turned back to the dark-haired man, "Anyways Brucie- this is our daughter Jerrie. She's a bit shy and a few years younger but no more than is acceptable. Perhaps you could escort her onto the dance floor? She follows very well."
Bruce smiled, "It would be a pleasure madam." His flirtatious wink to the young lady and 'Brucie' in full swing. Jerrie stared blankly a moment before her mother gave her that shoulder pinch that meant she should be following Mr.Wayne. As he led the young woman away, he noticed Oliver Queen giving him a Look and shaking his head subtly. He gave a pointed glance at Jerrie and tapped his forehead; Bruce snarled, misinterpreting the gesture. Oliver mouthed 'Don't do it!' and held up a spread hand then tapped his forehead again.
"..mean, do you know what that woman does for Rathaway Publishing? She works in the print room, she handles chemicals that require a B.Sc. and WHMIS certification, she has neither, and she was never informed. Nor was she ever informed about the toxicity of the chemicals she's handling so guess what's happened to the baby she had last year. And Rathaway Publishing is paying her minimum wage for this. Okay? You seeing the problem here?" Piper is holding court before some interested hobnobs and journalists and some security guards held motionless by his wall of sound. Wayne brought the shy pale redhead onto the dancefloor. She still hadn't looked up but allowed herself to be led into a slow foxtrot. "...sure, but I never violated an OSHA standard." Laughter. Someone called out something about the Flash. "Oh god yes, did anybody see that on the news today? The one where that new police chief, Bernetti... Oh hi Chief how are you? Brilliant take-down, Chief, that was awesome pan-calling. You're seeing why he gets on my nerves now, right? So how much trouble do you think the Mayor's going to be in for saying that?" More laughter. "Yeah, so, Osgood's a law-abiding citizen and I'm a super-villain... although a bunch of people think I'm a hero now or something." More laughter, some applause, some condemnation, mainly from people who're afraid that Piper will do the same to them, he noted. He looked around then noted something else and the easy friendly smile suddenly froze.
Trickster was already moving from the moment he saw Wayne and Jerrie hit the dance floor. At the look in Piper's eyes, he double-timed. He flung a concussive-force T-bomb at Wayne, then swooped up with Jerrie in his arms.
Piper visibly settled his feathers. He shot a fierce glare at his father then turned back towards his audience with a rather less affable smile, "Speaking of developmentally-challenged children - that's 'retarded kids' for those of you who don't speak Politically Correct - okay so I'm a thief, but I would never put my developmentally-delayed daughter on the meat market and try to pawn her off on some unsuspecting socialite." He turned to look directly at Wayne with his 'Maestro of Malevolence' smile, "Unless you are suspecting, in which case I might have to ruin your evening later." He turned back to his audience, "That's Trickster, by the way, as seen on TV, offer void where prohibited, must be 18 to play."
Wayne cursed as he hit the ground, rolling nimbly and bouncing lightly to his feet. "You leave her alone!" he snarled up at the brightly-coloured maniac.
Trickster hovered above them, holding Jerrie securely. He had put his cape over the girl's shoulders, to her glee. "I should be saying the same to you, 'Brucie,'" he snapped back, "I know you had your thing for the little boys, but little girls? You like 'em vulnerable, don't you? Sicko! Pervert!" He petted Jerrie's head and gave her the pudding-balloon launcher, "Here, Jerrie," -- and Jerrie pressed the trigger, hitting Mr. Wayne in the chest!
"Obviously there are some evils even crooks can't stand," Oliver said lightly. He came up behind Bruce and murmured, "I tried warning you not to do the playboy schtick with her."
"Oh is that what that was supposed to be," Bruce glared, wiping pudding globs off his face.
"That girl's mentally about five," Queen said, louder, "The Rathaways tried to pawn her off on me once already." The journalists pounced on that like flies on meat. Coupled with Piper's statements, it made the rounds rapid-fire. He glanced over to where Osgood Rathaway stood shaking with rage, his wife red with humiliation, her face in her hands. He glanced at the Pied Piper... then glanced back, noticing something. Then it was very hard to notice anything.
Leaving the press to their feast, Piper walked over to a quieter corner, playing his flute. He looked up as Trickster brought Jerrie, swooping her around. "Look at you!" he grinned up at her, "You're flying! You're just like Supergirl!"
"Suuuuu-pah gurrrl!!!" Jerrie laughed and reached out towards him, "Harteeeey Hart!! Hug?" She scrambled out of Trickster's arms as he set her down.
Piper played a few more notes then put his flute down and embraced her tightly, "Hi, little sis..."
"HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiii," Jerrie wrapped her arms around her brother's neck and squeezed tight. Piper let her, even though she was choking him a little in her affection.
"That's.... quite a close resemblance," Bruce murmured, suddenly understanding.
"And look at Rachel Rathaway," Oliver replied, "They always claimed their son was at school overseas or travelling." They watched the siblings a moment longer then Oliver snorted, "I think the son got all the good genes in the family."
"Haaartleeeeey, HE HAS TOYS! and I can play- can I please?" Jerrie begged, "Mommy says big girl doesn't need but he has them and and ..." She motioned as if she were going to whisper, then said loudly, "Do you think he has dolly?"
Piper lowered his voice to a conspirational whisper, "He has better than that, Jerrie -- he has puppets!" Trickster whipped out a Piper puppet and made it look in shock at Piper. Jerrie howled with laughter.
Piper put his flute to his lips again. "We need to leave soon," he said.
Trickster nodded, "I know. I think that blond guy's Green Arrow, something about the beard."
"Yes. And I'm positive that one of those kids hanging near the buffet is Speedy, so take Jerrie to him. She should be safe." He hugged his sister again, "I have to go now, Jerrie."
"NOOOOOO!" Jerrie wailed, bursting into tears, "Don't go, Hartleeeey, I miss youuuuu!"
"I miss you too, little sister," Piper said, pained, "But I can't stay. You know how Mommy and Daddy feel about me." Jerrie nodded the loose-necked nod of little kids, wiping her streaming eyes. "So you be good girl for me, okay? Be strong. Can you be strong for me?" She nodded again, clutching the Piper puppet to her chest. "Okay. Trickster will take you to a friend of mine, so you be a good girl for him, okay?"
"Okay, Hartley," she sniffled. She reached up for Trickster and soon they were back in the air, shooting the pudding balloons from the gun with the help of heroic puppet friends.
The boys at the buffet table dodged a couple of pudding bombs, one of them executing a body roll like the acrobats of Trickster's youth. The other one... yep, underneath the expensive suit were the developed shoulders and arms of an archer. He drifted closer, "Hello - How would you like to give this young lady a hand? From the looks of things we'll need to head out soon but I wouldn't want her left in the fray. Her name's Jerrie and if ya play me for a rube, I'll find you and break your arms, kiddo, 'cause I know who you are."
The acrobat-type elbowed the other one in the ribs before he could speak. "The threats are unnecessary, though I can understand why, given the situation," the dark-haired young man said urbanely, "We'd be honoured to take care of Miss Jerrie."
The other one recovered and nodded, "Yes." He glanced around and saw Piper exchanging a few nasty words with the elder Rathaways. "Usually we're bored to tears at these parties."
Trickster gave them a sharp look then nodded, "Alright then. Here." He handed over most of his puppets, then bowed deeply and kissed Jerrie's hand, "Guard them well, little lady." She giggled and nodded and he shot up on his air shoes.
The boys looked at each other then shrugged. "Hello Jerrie. My name's Dick and this is my friend Roy..."
An explosion of fireworks and confetti covered the escape of the Rogues, followed by rubber chickens on parachutes and a final, much larger pudding bomb.
"You notice the police chief vanished," Bruce said.
"What he doesn't witness..." Oliver licked a glob of pudding off his finger, "Damn, this stuff is homemade! You'd expect packaged instant for something like this. Who wastes homemade pudding on a job like this?"
"Someone who takes a lot of pride in his work," Bruce said thoughtfully.
"It's bittersweet dark chocolate, too," Oliver sucked a glob off his shirtcuff.
"I get a fish-poisoning psychotic killer clown; Flash gets Robin Hood and a pudding-bomber."
"And he has the nerve to bitch! Those guys aren't even villains!"
"I'd take Flash's Rogues any day."
"Even his enemies are nice!"
Title: Parental Controls
Author: Katzedecimal
Rating: T
Characters: Pipster, Batman, Robin, Green Arrow, Speedy
Summary: Piper visits his family. Nothing can go wrong with that!
When one thinks of street musicians, one thinks of guitars or maybe violins, not flutes. When one thinks of street musicians at all. The receptionist at Rathaway Publishing didn't, which is why she was the first to slump over when the flute music drifted in from outside. The security guard in the corner noticed and had just enough time to slap the panic button before he too made a deposit at the sleep bank. So when the revolving doors span and admitted the cloaked figure in the ridiculous costume, he was met by several guards.
"Tch. Didn't anybody teach you boys never to point guns at people?" the flautist said, his music uninterrupted, "You boys look tired, you need your beauty sleep. Especially you, cutie, but you won't remember I said that. Bye now."
If a Rogue strides through a foyer but there's nobody awake to hear him, does he still make a sound?
The elevator dinged and the executive secretary slumped over her keyboard, causing her computer to whine and lock up. The finance manager reached for the phone but found he could move his hand no further.
"Morning, Mr. Aikins. I need three cheques, please, for these amounts and payable to these people. Don't worry about authorisations, it's on my authority. Osgood will sign them, though, so it's all nice and tidy for your books."
"You!!"
"Oh, speak of the devil and you see his horniness," Piper smirked and turned around, never taking the flute from his lips, "Hello, Osgood, I was just going up to see you. What are you doing on the sub-prime levels? Shagging the junior purchasing agent again or are you screwing the third floor receptionist literally as well as figuratively?"
"You... What are you doing here?!"
"I'm here to correct a little oversight of yours," Piper said pleasantly, "You know, when you decided in your frivolous way to tear down that apartment building, to build a casino... Really, a casino? Don't you think you're rich enough without laundering drug money? Well anyways, you seem to have overlooked that many people, y'know, live in those apartments. You know, people with families? Oh right, why should you care about other people's children, you don't even care about your own..."
"You are going too far, young--*"
"Shut up," Piper said mildly. Osgood fumed as his mouth suddenly refused to work. "Did I tell you to speak? I don't recall telling you to speak. Did I tell him to speak? No? Right. There was me feeling a bit retarded, for a moment." Osgood clenched his fists, unable to speak or move. "Anyways, Osgood, I'd like you to sign these cheques for me, please, and I'll deliver them to the Keystone Foundation for the Homeless, since you've, y'know, made a lot of people homeless and all." He picked up a cheque and feigned surprise, "Oh my, and some of them are even your own employees! So, not only are you underpaying them, you even take their homes away from them. Really, is that fair? Is that right? And you're supposed to be a pillar of society." The music swelled a bit louder and Osgood's hands shook as the compulsion took him over. "So sign the cheques please, and I'll be on my way to make about a hundred and seventy lives a little bit easier. Of course, it'll be credit to me, not to you, because while I might be a thief, you, frankly, are a crook. Thaaaaaank you," Piper picked up one of the cheques and turned to address an office clerk, "Hi Carlotta.. Yes, cool, isn't it? Lots of breath control and of course I'm very good with my mouth. Would you take this down to Vanessa in Reception? I understand she's going to be needing at the end of the month when her home gets torn down to make way for a casino. Compliments of the Pied Piper, if you will. Thank you!"
He picked up the other cheques and tucked them into his belt pouch then bowed, "That's all, thank you for your patience, everyone, all those that I didn't have to put to sleep... Oh and all those that I did, they'll wake up in about two hours. They'll have nasty headaches of course, but they'll be fine. Ciao!"
Piper was about half way back to his car when he stopped and listened intently, then blew a sudden loud, sharp note on his flute. The figure slowed, slowed, slowed, became a red and yellow blur... Piper blinked, his crafty expression changing to a bright smile, "Oh hi Kid Flash, how are you?" Kid Flash yelped as the sonic field suddenly released him and he crashed into a wall. "Oh, geez, sorry!"
"Ow," Kid Flash straightened up and rubbed his nose, "Y'know, I heard the words 'Rathaway Publishing' on the police band and I thought 'I'll just bet that's Pied Piper.'" He grinned, "So what're you up to this time?"
"Heard about that casino?"
Kid Flash lost the grin. "Heck yeah! They're evicting a hundred and seventy people for that! They've given them until the end of the month to find another place to live and that's two weeks away!"
"Guess who the landowner is," Piper jerked his thumb back over his shoulder, gesturing towards the Rathaway Publishing building. He held up the cheques, "I'm helping them make a donation to the Keystone Homeless Foundation."
"Ohhhhhhhh. Who's the other one for?"
"Gambi's niece and her baby. She lives in that building."
"Not skimming a little off the top for yourself?"
Piper's face darkened, "It's my father's -- No."
Kid Flash nodded then frowned, "No polka-dots today? What's with the sweater?"
Piper blushed magenta and scratched the back of his head, "Ah... I figure the world doesn't want to know that I've got a new sweetheart..."
"Huh?"
".... who likes to... draw on my chest with henna paste."
Kid Flash burst out laughing, "Oh this I've got to see! Is it dirty?"
"No, no, it's just a heart..."
"Oh c'mon c'mon c'mon, show me, you gotta show me..." Piper glanced around then hitched up his sweater to show the teak-coloured valentine around the letters G.G. + H.R. on his pale chest. Kid Flash doubled over laughing and he dropped the sweater back down, bright pink and grinning. "'G.G.' huh? Not Golden Glider?"
Piper made a face, "Are you kidding me? Captain Cold's sister?! Whaddya think I am, insane?" Kid Flash laughed again and Piper grinned. "By the way, they're holding a shindig to open this casino project tonight," he said, "I plan to buzz it. But don't worry, I plan only to dog the media and put a lid on any thoughts Osgood might have of trying to spin this in his favour. Nothing else."
Kid Flash nodded and looked thoughtful, "I know some people who'll be there. I'll let them know so they don't have to worry about it."
Piper grinned, "Not taking me in?"
"Only crime I see here is costumed vigilante action and I'm guilty of that one too," Kid Flash's grin matched Piper's, "See ya, Piper, have fun tonight!"
"Catch ya later, Wally."
* * * *
"I'm back!" Piper listened but there was no sound of life in the apartment -- he was back; Trickster wasn't. He stepped in and went to the bedroom to find his street clothes, then out to the kitchen to find something to drink.
It was pretty obvious why James wasn't off the market, he thought as he looked around. The place looked like a daycare center. The kitchen walls sported pale blue wallpaper with little sailboats and a tile backsplash of yellow duckies. The tablecloth was covered with tragedy/comedy masks. A model railroad ran through the apartment, clearly inspired by Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. There was a Big Red Button marked "Do Not Push" on the living room wall (Piper knew idiot bait when he saw it.)
The bedroom was even worse, being painted in yellow and pale blue stripes with airplane mobiles hanging from the ceiling. The bed was shaped like a Formula-1 racing car and was dressed with Star Wars sheets (this morning's now-stained ReBoot sheets being wadded up in the R2-D2 laundry basket.) There were shelves full of plushies and super-hero action figures, and the amount of Flash paraphenalia should be disturbing, given that their owner was one of Flash's enemies. The Power Girl body pillow (complete with magical cleavage window) had Piper laughing, however.
Women wanted men, not boys, and did not like men who acted like little children. Piper knew this; he'd listened to many of his female friends vent about it. At length. Often. At least James Jesse was honest about it. Looked at through the mundane eye, the decor screamed of a man with severe Peter Pan syndrome.
To Piper, it said something else. Although the decor had startled him, what had really surprised him was how comfortable he felt here. To Piper, the decor made a point: You can't date James Jesse without dating the Trickster.
The press called him a Rogue but the press called any enemy of the Flash a Rogue. Underground, a Rogue was specifically a member of Captain Cold's gang, as Piper was. Although the Trickster had teamed up with various Rogues from time to time, he was as much an outsider to them as he was to the Flash, and just as apt to taunt them. Captain Cold demanded loyalty of his Rogues and the Trickster was likely to turn on them, steal their take, even give it back, rendering all of their work and planning useless. It seemed the Trickster's only loyalty was to himself.
Although possibly not. Piper glanced at the time then scribbled a note and taped it to the fridge, then grabbed his gear and headed home to feed his rats.
And was surprised to find Trickster already there, sitting on the floor surrounded by the rats. He was cuddling one of the girls, stroking her fur and scritching under her ears and chin. And singing to her, softly, under his breath. Piper tilted his head, endeared - nobody else ever sung to his rats. Trickster looked up and startled, "Oh hi! I came in through the window. I didn't know when you'd be back so I figured I should stop by and feed your rats before we got distracted."
Piper nodded, "I left a note at your place. I'm impressed you got through my home security." He took a set of keys - Charley's - off the wall and tossed them over to James.
"It was not easy," James said, pleased, "Very challenging and worth every minute. I loved it. Your phone's been ringing off the hook by the way. Went well, did it?"
"You betcha," Piper smiled and flipped on the TV. He turned it to the news then sat on the floor beside James and let the rats swarm up over him, kissing them all hello. The news was all over the daring daylight heist by the Sultan of Sound, the Maestro of Malevolence -- the Pied Piper! ...although the homeless-charity angle was kind of killing the 'malevolence' part.
"What's this one called again?" James held up the little white bundle of bliss he'd been politely torturing.
"That's Rune. She's got that rune-shaped mark on her shoulder." Roger Johannsen, chief financial officer of Rathaway Publishing, was indignantly condemning the abuse and human injury suffered by himself and others at the hands of the nefarious Rogue. Piper rolled his eyes, "You weren't even there, ya dipshit!"
"'...Flash is supposed to protect innocent citizens from these super-villains but where was he?' Channel Seven asked that question of Flash's protege, Kid Flash, who had this to say: '..was at Titans Tower, I came as soon as I could. I can run faster than gossip, sure, but I have to hear about it first. If there's a delay in me learning about a situation, yeah I'm going to get there too late!'"
"Is that really how it went down?"
"Fuck no, he caught me as I was leaving," Piper chuckled, "I warned him about our sting tonight, though." The phone kept ringing. Piper ignored it, letting the answering machine pick up each call. "..eeeeep* Piper! Dude!!! OMG I saw the news!!! You da man, bruvvah!!!! Man I am proud to call you a brother!!!" "*beeeep* Piper you so rock!!! Call me man we are SO buying you a drink!!" "*eeeep* Piper? So, yeah man, I saw the news... So, you think maybe we could get together on Thursday? Maybe try it again?" "*beeeep* ...Mr. Piper? it's.. I'm Maria Gambi... my uncle gave me.... thank you... *sob* thank you Mr. Piper... God and Jesus bless you Mr. Piper... thank you..."
"I found her a place," James said, leaning to nuzzle and kiss under Piper's ear, "I stopped off at Gambi's, it's all set up. I didn't even have to lean on them that hard. Could only get it rent-controlled for two years though."
Piper snorted, "In this city, that's generous." He tipped his head to kiss James playfully.
The phone rang. "There's that old woman again," James commented, tweaking open the buttons on Piper's shirt and raking his nails lightly down his chest.
Piper arched an eyebrow and smirked, "Oh I'll just bet." Half-way through the answering machine message, he got up and picked up the phone, "Helllllo, Mommy Dearest."
James nodded to himself; he'd suspected the old woman might be Hartley's mother, the way she ranted on in her messages. He got a wicked little grin and reached for the fly of Hartley's pants.
"...Pretty easily, really, it's no different from hypnotising anyone else... ah!! ... No. No. NO!" Hartley said over the slurping sounds, "What part of 'no' are you having trouble understanding? Obviously I Jaa-aaames, stop it! ...I come by my stupidity honestly. If you.. nngh If you think I'm just going to... what?"
"I'll harden you up until you flip me over the countertop and fuck me 'til I scream," James murmured, just loud enough to be picked up by the phone. There was a pregnant pause, then Hartley yanked the phone away from his ear and even James could hear the screech of "HARTLEY! What on earth are you doing?!"
"Well you said to pick up this instant, not even considering whether I might be in the middle of something," Piper said nastily. His grin gave James an idea of where the 'Maestro of Malevolence' moniker might have come from. "I don't see what you're so upset about. I had to listen to you when you were getting playful with John London and Marnie Sor--*" He put the phone down and laughed until tears ran down his face. "Oh, I love you!!"
"I l'v you t', m'hhear 'A'tley."
"Now, what was this about the countertop?"
* * * *
"Flutes?"
"Check."
"Flying shoes?"
"Check."
"Tuning forks?"
"Check."
"Assorted rubber chickens?"
"Check."
"Yo-yos?"
"Check."
"Chocolate pudding bombs?"
Piper paused with an odd expression, "I'm picturing how that's going to look."
"That's the point!" Trickster beamed. He peered out over the crowd, "Now, which one's your little sister?"
"Ummmm.... There she is, over there."
Trickster looked to see a young woman a few years younger than Hartley, being led around by her mother. "Who dressed her up like that? If she's mentally four, they shouldn't have her in a dress like that."
"They're trying to marry her off," Piper said darkly.
James saw his expression. "So we're taking her with us when we leave?"
"I wish I could," Piper said, "But right now, I can't. I'm still working on the debt and I'm in jail too often. I can't care for Jerrie properly, I don't have the means right now. I'd have to put her in a home and I really don't want to do that to her. As much as I hate to say it, she's better off where she is, for now." James nodded and squeezed his hand, noticing the shadows of anguish in Hartley's eyes.
On the ballroom floor, Osgood Rathaway was entertaining the media, bragging about the sizeable donation he made to the Keystone Foundation for the Homeless, why he even assisted one of his own employees who had the misfortune of living in that tenement, really the building was past its prime, run-down, no amount of renovation could improve it, it was time to let it go...
A pudding bomb hit him squarely in the chest, splattering him with brown goo.
"Liar!" a shrill voice screeched from above, "Li-arrrr! Anybody who saw the news today knows what a liar you are, Osbad Rathaway, taking credit for someone else's achievement!" A maelstrom of blue, orange and yellow descended on blue pixie boots, "Today's acts of vigilante justice were brought to you by none other than the Sultan of Socialism, the Composer of Compassion, the Maestro of Mercy, your friend - and definitely mine! - the Pied Piper!"
An explosion of fireworks and coloured smoke went off, revealing Piper standing with his flute to his lips and a baffled expression as his 'don't-notice-me' tune was suddenly disrupted. He glanced around, plainly caught off guard. "What's with the fanfare?"
"You deserve it, you're on!"
"Ohh-kay," Piper shook his head and shrugged, "Hi everybody! The donation? - yeah, that was me. Just like Ozzie to take all the credit though..."
Trickster watched while Piper took the press into the palms of his hands, then activated his light refraction generator and gradually faded into the background. He looked around at the people. Most were confused, some frightened. Some were making fun of their costumes, which showed that they were doing what they were designed to do. Some people just never got it and that made them easy pickin's. Two teenaged boys, almost men, hung near the buffet table, watching with quiet intensity. They moved with more self-control than average and Trickster marked them as persons of interest. Another person of interest was the blond fellow in the Armani suit -- come on, that beard was a dead giveaway, who else had a beard like that? Probably Flash asked him to drop in, keep a quiet eye on things.
Much more interesting was Rachel Rathaway. She was standing next to a dark-haired man in an expensive suit, staring at her son in impotent fury, unable to do or say anything without giving away their dread family secret. Her daughter stood beside her, gazing at her toes, standing in the chest-up-hip-out pose as Mommy had taught her. Rachel swallowed her bile and turned back to the dark-haired man, "Anyways Brucie- this is our daughter Jerrie. She's a bit shy and a few years younger but no more than is acceptable. Perhaps you could escort her onto the dance floor? She follows very well."
Bruce smiled, "It would be a pleasure madam." His flirtatious wink to the young lady and 'Brucie' in full swing. Jerrie stared blankly a moment before her mother gave her that shoulder pinch that meant she should be following Mr.Wayne. As he led the young woman away, he noticed Oliver Queen giving him a Look and shaking his head subtly. He gave a pointed glance at Jerrie and tapped his forehead; Bruce snarled, misinterpreting the gesture. Oliver mouthed 'Don't do it!' and held up a spread hand then tapped his forehead again.
"..mean, do you know what that woman does for Rathaway Publishing? She works in the print room, she handles chemicals that require a B.Sc. and WHMIS certification, she has neither, and she was never informed. Nor was she ever informed about the toxicity of the chemicals she's handling so guess what's happened to the baby she had last year. And Rathaway Publishing is paying her minimum wage for this. Okay? You seeing the problem here?" Piper is holding court before some interested hobnobs and journalists and some security guards held motionless by his wall of sound. Wayne brought the shy pale redhead onto the dancefloor. She still hadn't looked up but allowed herself to be led into a slow foxtrot. "...sure, but I never violated an OSHA standard." Laughter. Someone called out something about the Flash. "Oh god yes, did anybody see that on the news today? The one where that new police chief, Bernetti... Oh hi Chief how are you? Brilliant take-down, Chief, that was awesome pan-calling. You're seeing why he gets on my nerves now, right? So how much trouble do you think the Mayor's going to be in for saying that?" More laughter. "Yeah, so, Osgood's a law-abiding citizen and I'm a super-villain... although a bunch of people think I'm a hero now or something." More laughter, some applause, some condemnation, mainly from people who're afraid that Piper will do the same to them, he noted. He looked around then noted something else and the easy friendly smile suddenly froze.
Trickster was already moving from the moment he saw Wayne and Jerrie hit the dance floor. At the look in Piper's eyes, he double-timed. He flung a concussive-force T-bomb at Wayne, then swooped up with Jerrie in his arms.
Piper visibly settled his feathers. He shot a fierce glare at his father then turned back towards his audience with a rather less affable smile, "Speaking of developmentally-challenged children - that's 'retarded kids' for those of you who don't speak Politically Correct - okay so I'm a thief, but I would never put my developmentally-delayed daughter on the meat market and try to pawn her off on some unsuspecting socialite." He turned to look directly at Wayne with his 'Maestro of Malevolence' smile, "Unless you are suspecting, in which case I might have to ruin your evening later." He turned back to his audience, "That's Trickster, by the way, as seen on TV, offer void where prohibited, must be 18 to play."
Wayne cursed as he hit the ground, rolling nimbly and bouncing lightly to his feet. "You leave her alone!" he snarled up at the brightly-coloured maniac.
Trickster hovered above them, holding Jerrie securely. He had put his cape over the girl's shoulders, to her glee. "I should be saying the same to you, 'Brucie,'" he snapped back, "I know you had your thing for the little boys, but little girls? You like 'em vulnerable, don't you? Sicko! Pervert!" He petted Jerrie's head and gave her the pudding-balloon launcher, "Here, Jerrie," -- and Jerrie pressed the trigger, hitting Mr. Wayne in the chest!
"Obviously there are some evils even crooks can't stand," Oliver said lightly. He came up behind Bruce and murmured, "I tried warning you not to do the playboy schtick with her."
"Oh is that what that was supposed to be," Bruce glared, wiping pudding globs off his face.
"That girl's mentally about five," Queen said, louder, "The Rathaways tried to pawn her off on me once already." The journalists pounced on that like flies on meat. Coupled with Piper's statements, it made the rounds rapid-fire. He glanced over to where Osgood Rathaway stood shaking with rage, his wife red with humiliation, her face in her hands. He glanced at the Pied Piper... then glanced back, noticing something. Then it was very hard to notice anything.
Leaving the press to their feast, Piper walked over to a quieter corner, playing his flute. He looked up as Trickster brought Jerrie, swooping her around. "Look at you!" he grinned up at her, "You're flying! You're just like Supergirl!"
"Suuuuu-pah gurrrl!!!" Jerrie laughed and reached out towards him, "Harteeeey Hart!! Hug?" She scrambled out of Trickster's arms as he set her down.
Piper played a few more notes then put his flute down and embraced her tightly, "Hi, little sis..."
"HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiii," Jerrie wrapped her arms around her brother's neck and squeezed tight. Piper let her, even though she was choking him a little in her affection.
"That's.... quite a close resemblance," Bruce murmured, suddenly understanding.
"And look at Rachel Rathaway," Oliver replied, "They always claimed their son was at school overseas or travelling." They watched the siblings a moment longer then Oliver snorted, "I think the son got all the good genes in the family."
"Haaartleeeeey, HE HAS TOYS! and I can play- can I please?" Jerrie begged, "Mommy says big girl doesn't need but he has them and and ..." She motioned as if she were going to whisper, then said loudly, "Do you think he has dolly?"
Piper lowered his voice to a conspirational whisper, "He has better than that, Jerrie -- he has puppets!" Trickster whipped out a Piper puppet and made it look in shock at Piper. Jerrie howled with laughter.
Piper put his flute to his lips again. "We need to leave soon," he said.
Trickster nodded, "I know. I think that blond guy's Green Arrow, something about the beard."
"Yes. And I'm positive that one of those kids hanging near the buffet is Speedy, so take Jerrie to him. She should be safe." He hugged his sister again, "I have to go now, Jerrie."
"NOOOOOO!" Jerrie wailed, bursting into tears, "Don't go, Hartleeeey, I miss youuuuu!"
"I miss you too, little sister," Piper said, pained, "But I can't stay. You know how Mommy and Daddy feel about me." Jerrie nodded the loose-necked nod of little kids, wiping her streaming eyes. "So you be good girl for me, okay? Be strong. Can you be strong for me?" She nodded again, clutching the Piper puppet to her chest. "Okay. Trickster will take you to a friend of mine, so you be a good girl for him, okay?"
"Okay, Hartley," she sniffled. She reached up for Trickster and soon they were back in the air, shooting the pudding balloons from the gun with the help of heroic puppet friends.
The boys at the buffet table dodged a couple of pudding bombs, one of them executing a body roll like the acrobats of Trickster's youth. The other one... yep, underneath the expensive suit were the developed shoulders and arms of an archer. He drifted closer, "Hello - How would you like to give this young lady a hand? From the looks of things we'll need to head out soon but I wouldn't want her left in the fray. Her name's Jerrie and if ya play me for a rube, I'll find you and break your arms, kiddo, 'cause I know who you are."
The acrobat-type elbowed the other one in the ribs before he could speak. "The threats are unnecessary, though I can understand why, given the situation," the dark-haired young man said urbanely, "We'd be honoured to take care of Miss Jerrie."
The other one recovered and nodded, "Yes." He glanced around and saw Piper exchanging a few nasty words with the elder Rathaways. "Usually we're bored to tears at these parties."
Trickster gave them a sharp look then nodded, "Alright then. Here." He handed over most of his puppets, then bowed deeply and kissed Jerrie's hand, "Guard them well, little lady." She giggled and nodded and he shot up on his air shoes.
The boys looked at each other then shrugged. "Hello Jerrie. My name's Dick and this is my friend Roy..."
An explosion of fireworks and confetti covered the escape of the Rogues, followed by rubber chickens on parachutes and a final, much larger pudding bomb.
"You notice the police chief vanished," Bruce said.
"What he doesn't witness..." Oliver licked a glob of pudding off his finger, "Damn, this stuff is homemade! You'd expect packaged instant for something like this. Who wastes homemade pudding on a job like this?"
"Someone who takes a lot of pride in his work," Bruce said thoughtfully.
"It's bittersweet dark chocolate, too," Oliver sucked a glob off his shirtcuff.
"I get a fish-poisoning psychotic killer clown; Flash gets Robin Hood and a pudding-bomber."
"And he has the nerve to bitch! Those guys aren't even villains!"
"I'd take Flash's Rogues any day."
"Even his enemies are nice!"