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thevoidstaredback · 3 months

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Spoiler took her cue about five minutes after Batman left for the Watchtower to ride into the Cave. The heroes were with Robin by the display of their costumes, paying special respect to Jason's memorial. She made sure to rev the engine of her bike further down the tunnel to announce her arrival.

"Spoiler," Robin greeted her after she'd parked and pulled off her helmet. "These are some of the heroes in the Justice League. They were invited by Batman and Nightwing to come see the Cave."

Spoiler grinned widely at the group, "Hey! Nice to meet you all, I'm Spoiler." She'd never met the group during her few months as Robin, but her suit sta proudly between Tim's and Damian's.

"We weren't aware that there was another hero working in Gotham," Martian Manhunter nodded to her in greeting.

She gasped, her right hand moving do sit directly on the purple bat on her chest. "There are heroes operating in Gotham?" At the confused looks from the group, she cackled and dropped her hand to sit on her hip, leaning her weight more onto her left foot. "We're vigilantes in Gotham. We work outside the law, not alongside it."

"But, Batman-"

"-works with the law when working with the Justice League," Robin cut Cyborg off, successfully pulling everyone's attention to him.

As soon as their eyes were off of her, Cass switched out with her. It was seamless. SpoilerBat (Cass as Spoiler) emerged from her place in the darkest shadows of the Batplane, tapping Spoiler on the shoulder and pointing to the training room. She caught Robin's eye as Spoiler left, nodding and using the LoA signs to tell him the switch was done.

Robin nodded and continued his explanation of the displays, not naming anyone. "Batman's suits are all lined up on the upper tier. He improves them based on his needs and the changes of technology he has at his disposal, resulting in the nine suits you see, as well as the tenth that he's currently wearing. Robin's and Batgirl's suits are lined upon the middle tier. From left to right we have Robin 1, Batgirl 1, Robin 2," He didn't mention that this one was obviously a memorial. "Batgirl 2, Robin 3, Robin 4, Batgirl 3, Batgirl 4, Robin 5.1, Robin 5.2, Robin 5.3, Robin 5.4, and Robin 5.5." He adjusted his stance as SpoilerBat came to stand next to him.

"The lower tier are suits for others in Gotham," she explained, expertly ignoring the whispers about her being a different person a few minutes ago, "Same order: Discowing, Nightwing 1, Nightwing 2, Nightwing 3, Nightwing 4, Redwing, and Nightwing 5." she pointed as she named them, skipping over all five of Jason's suits, as well as the sixth empty one for his current costume, "Red Robin 0, Red Robin 1, Red Robin 2, Red Robin 3, Red Robin, 4, Drake, Red Robin 5, Spoiler, Black Bat, Orphan, Signal." Of the named suits, four suits were missing; Nightwing 5, Red Robin 5, Robin 5.5, and Spoiler.

Because the stealth suits were made specifically to be stealthy, they were never displayed in the open. Instead, they were kept in the locker rooms. No one who didn't know they had them knew any of them were even missing.

"Why are there so many?" Superman wondered.

"We all operate out of the Batcave." Robin stated as though it were obvious, "Our costumes change as we need them to."

"So," Flash began, getting close to the displays but no touching them, "Who all shares costumes? Or do they all belong to different people?"

Robin and SpoilerBat shared a quick look, neither wanting to explain. Let them think what they want. Skewing the numbers via omission will only help their plans along, as well as work to keep their identities.

Moving on, Robin told of how the penny and the dinosaur had come to be in the Cave. He warned to keep away from the edges because of the chasm.

"Chasm?" Aquaman had a smirk on his face, "Why do you need a chasm?"

"To keep the dragons." Robin said. he and SpoilerBat led the way to the garage. "The platform the Batplane rises and lowers as needed. The area above it is a door that can only be opened via remote in the plane itself or via command on the Batcomputer. Over there is the garage. The Batmobile, the Batcycle, the Wingcycle, Ricochet, the Redbird, the Batpod, the Spoilermobile, and Spoiler's motorcycle. Honestly, he turned to SpoilerBat, speaking to Spoiler, "You still haven't named your motorcycle?"

SpoilerBat shrugged.

Green Arrow took his time to look over every present vehicle. "Impressive. None of these are mainstream."

"That's because they're all custom made." Robin preened.

"Really?" Flash asked, bouncing like an excited puppy, "Which one's yours, little man?"

Robin scowled, but didn't address the name. "The Batcycle is the one I am permitted to use. Although, Batman has given his consent for me to drive the Batmobile in case of emergencies."

Cyborg was looking over Ricochet, Red Hood's bike, closely. "This doesn't look like any of the others."

"How do you mean?" SpoilerBat tilted her head slightly to the right.

"It's got the obvious base of a Harley Davidson," he pointed out, "It's also a lot less tech focused than the others."

"The second Robin build that bike from scratch," Robin said shortly, "Do not touch it."

"Right, sorry."

SpoilerBat decided to lead the way to the training area. Robin followed behind the group.

The training area was a clump of four offshoots from the main area of the lower level of the Batcave. The widest area was full of standard gym equipment. In the offshoot to the left was a taller cavern full of gymnastics equipment. The offshoot to the right was weapons training. The offshoot directly across from the main area was for sparring matches on mats or in the ring.

Wonder Woman regarded the gymnastics set up with a keen eye. "You all are trained, yes?" SpoilerBat nodded. "Can we see a routine?"

"Sure," SpoilerBat said. She stepped up to the starting point of the obstical course they had yet to take down from last week. Taking a deep breath, she began. About halfway through, she was out of the heroes' sight long enough to land in the rafters that Duke, Tim, and Steph and occupied temporarily. When she landed, Steph jumped down to continue the routine as Spoiler.

Having finished the routine, Spoiler landed, breathed again, and then jogged to rejoin Robin and the Justice League. A minute nod from the littlest bat let her know that the visiting heroes didn't see the switch. "So, what'dya think?"

Green Lantern did a double take. After a few false starts, he finally managed, "Are-are you a different person?"

Spoiler tilted her head to the right in a perfect imitation of Cass. "What're ya talking about? I'm the same me you met!"

Green Lantern didn't say anything more, choosing instead to follow the others as they explored the sparring mats and the weapons room.

Green Arrow and Martian Manhunter were the ones to take the most interest in this room. The wall on either side of the opening was dedicated to storing all kinds of weapons. The left side of the wall directly opposite the opening was a shooting range for all kinds of ranged weapons. The rest of the room housed training dummies.

"Let me guess," Aquaman admired the shorter ranged weapons, "You all forged these on your own, as well?"

Robin scoffed and crossed his arms. "Of course not. The swords were gifted to me by the finest of swordsmiths. The daggers as well."

"Yeah," Spoiler nodded along, "The only ones we actually produced are the Bird and Batarangs."

"Where do you get the materials?" Martian Manhunter inquired, holding one of the Batarangs to the light.

"There wasn't always a chasm." Red Robin said from where Robin had been standing. The Justice League heroes all whipped to look at him, dropping into ready stances. Red Robin held his hands up but didn't flinch or move back otherwise. "Whoa there, calm down. What spooked ya."

"Where's Robin?" Superman demanded.

Red Robin and Spoiler looked at each other. "What'd ya mean?" she asked, "He's right here."

"No," Flash looked between the two, around the room, and then back to Red Robin, "Robin is a child. You, decidedly, are not."

Red Robin huffed. "Are you okay? 'Cause I've been here the whole time?"

"Really?" Superman asked.

"Yeah," Red Robin crossed his arms. "Spoiler can vouch for me."

"Ah, but she can't!" Green Lantern pointed as though he'd caught them in a trap. "She's been switched out with someone else!"

Again, the two Gothamites shared a look behind their masks. "Alright," Red Robin shrugged, "This is an enclosed space with exactly one accessible exit-" if you don't know your way around, that is, "-if we were being switched out, where would they hide and why wouldn't Superman have been able to hear them?"

The answer is the sheer number of bats. The rafters are high and hidden enough in the ceilings that they blend in with the natural formations. The bats hang from the rafters. Because there are so many of the animals, and because of their training and spite, the Batfam have been able to hide their heartbeats within the throws of bats'. Superman's hearing would be able to pick up any sound that doesn't match with the nocturnal animals. The flutter of a cape could easily be the flutter of a bat's wings. The heartbeats that are slightly too slow are easily taken to be an older, sleeping bat. Movement is just a bat that's been disturbed.

The heroes were all quiet as Superman listened intently. Then, after a few minutes, he sighed and shook his head. "I can't hear anything out of the ordinary."

"But-!" Flash tried.

Red Robin shook his head. "If you guys are too paranoid about being here, we can take you back to the Zeta Tubes. I don't think we'd be able to convince B to let you come back here, though."

"No," Wonder Woman composed herself, "We apologise. Please, continue."

Hesitant, RR turned to take them to the large med bay. "Alright, if you're sure."

Part 5 Part 7

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chaotic-orphan · 2 months

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Intoxicating Fear (XVII)

Unforeseen Side-effect

Part One // Masterpost // Continued from here

~*~*~*~*~*~

Kit sat up with an effort, his entire body tensing as he moved. Aftershocks still singed his nerves as he moved, eliciting sharp hisses of pain.

What the hell was that thing, that red lightning? And why did he only get it around Ambrose?

“I assume that it’s a wild manifestation of your abilities,” Ambrose said from the kitchen. Kit rolled his eyes, about to curse the villain out if a sudden wave of nausea didn’t hit him and stop him in his tracks.

The world was spinning, lethargically slow, and closing his eyes didn’t exactly help matters. What the fuck was that red lightning? Why did it leave him so… weak?

Kit stopped beside the couch, pressing his back against it while he caught his breath and stifled the whine that threatened to spill from the back of his throat.

“You are as pale as a ghost,” Ambrose told Kit with a smirk. “Except for those eyes of course. And your veins.”

Kit’s eyes widened. His veins? What was Ambrose talking about now? Kit brought his hands in front of his eyes, any colour left in him draining as he saw the same angry, neon red colour had permeated all of his veins. Kit rolled up his sleeves, and there they were. Then the cuffs of his jeans, and the veins were there too.

“You’re like a walking glow-stick.”

“For fuck’s sake, just shut up.” Kit said with a groan, gfalling to his hands and knees and pushing himself to get up. He froze, hitting an invisible wall and plopped back down to his arse again. Red eyes met Ambrose’s black ones. “Can you let me stand up?”

I thought you told me to shut up, Ambrose’s voice sounded in Kit’s mind, the same stupid smirk on his same stupid face.

Kit banged his head against the couch with a groan. “You’re such a dickhead! You can give commands through thoughts! Why are you even here?! Why do you love to torture me?” Kit demanded, his voice turning hysterical. “Is this all part of Supervillain’s plan? To drive me mad too?”

The humour vanished from Ambrose’s face in the blink of an eye. “Do I look like I work well with others, Mallory?”

Kit blinked, his eyebrows pinching together, forming a furrow between. “What?”

Ambrose walked forward, closing the distance between them, stopping in front of Kit’s outstretched legs. “Do I look like I take orders from people?”

“No?”

“Then why,” Ambrose began, his voice darkening. “Would you think that I would throw my lot in with Supervillain of all people?”

Kit bent his knee and pushed himself into a straighter sitting position. He threw his hands up in a helpless gesture. “Then what the fuck were you doing on the docks that night?”

Ambrose’s features hardened. “The night I met you?”

“No, the other night on the docks.” Kit deadpanned.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Ambrose said with a shrug. “You can blame that preppy little water hero, what was her name again?”

“Tides.”

“That’s it,” Ambrose said with a click of his fingers. “Tides. The perfect foil to your electricity, Kit. Maybe I should bring her over someti—”

“If you touch her, I’ll fucking kill you.” Ambrose raised his brows, slightly taken aback. Maybe it was the vibrant crackle in his eyes or the echo in his voice, but something about him at that moment didn’t feel like Kit. It felt like something else. Something… wild.

“Promises, promises,” Ambrose said with a wave. “You can stand, Mallory. Clearly, we need to have a long overdue conversation.”

Ambrose walked back to the kitchenette, and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet preparing their coffee and tea. Kit slowly, achingly slow, got to his feet, his entire body zapped of energy. He dragged himself to his table and settled heavy into the chair, ignoring how breathless he was from such a light movement.

Ambrose joined him a few minutes later, neither of them speaking to each other. Ambrose set the coffee in front of Kit, and Kit said: “thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ambrose told him lightly. Ambrose stood again and walked towards Kit, reaching out.

Kit flinched back, throwing his hands up, red eyes pleading. “No, Ambrose no more, please.”

“Relax, Mallory. I’m just undoing the tie.” Ambrose told him. He waited until Kit relaxed, his hands lowering, a wary glint in his eyes as Ambrose started forward again. He quickly undid the knot in the tie, Kit refusing to look at him, instead focusing on the wall behind him. He could smell Ambrose’s expensive cologne from the space between them. It smelled nice, but it was deathly silent.

It was awkward, to say the least.

Ambrose finished with a flourish, gently pulling the fabric from Kit’s throat, sending shivers down his spine. Ambrose folded the tie neatly as he sat down again opposite Kit. When his black eyes flicked up to Kit’s he let out a low whistle, his eyes going to the red bruise around Kit’s throat. It would fade in an hour or two.

“What?” Kit snapped.

A ghost of a smirk flashed over Ambrose’s lips as he picked up his steaming mug. “Let’s just say you have a necktie of your own, now.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck right off, Rosey.” Kit took his own mug and took a sip of the steaming black coffee. His arm spasmed as the liquid met his tongue and spilled coffee all over his arm. Kit hissed, cursing as he wiped the liquid off, humming the pain away.

Ambrose’s dark eyes narrowed over his cup. “Aftershock?”

Kit shook his head. “I don’t know what this is,” he said weakly.

“Hmm.” Ambrose set his mug down on the table, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. “In any case, we need to discuss your theory on Supervillain.”

“You said you’re not working for him.”

Ambrose didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely not, but I am interested to hear your theory.”

“That night on the docks,” Kit repeated.

“I didn’t start a fight with Tides on the dock, Kit. She started a fight with me. I was simply defending myself.”

“And I’m sure you forced her to radio for help, right?”

Ambrose blinked. “No.”

Kit scoffed. “Sure you didn’t.”

“No,” Ambrose said again, straightening his spine. “I didn’t. If I did, I would tell you, Mallory. I’m an honest man.”

“She radioed Superhero and I while we were fighting a fire Villain that was threatening to burn down the residential area in seventh.”

“I never told her to do anything like that, Mallory. I wanted a quiet night. Tides somehow recognised me, and then I had my fun with her.” A shadow of a smirk passed over Ambrose’s face. “Though she wasn’t half as fun as you were.”

Kit frowned. “But that night there was— it felt like there were a series of co-ordinated attacks across the city.”

“Except I didn’t attack your water hero. How many times must I repeat myself?”

“Sorry if you’re a little hard for me to trust right now, Rosey!” Kit growled, slamming his hand on the table. The red in his veins pulsed and burned brighter. Even the blood vessels inside his mouth were emitting light, as if he had just swallowed the sun. “All you’ve done since I’ve met you is torture me, use my own powers against me, broke into my apartment—”

“Kit—” Ambrose said, but sparks flew from Kit’s body as he continued, getting angrier and angrier. Burning hotter and hotter, the light getting brighter and brighter.

“Laughed at me while you beat me, terrorised my every waking moment, kidnapped me and tied me up so you could hurt me some more, or shall I go on?!” His voice crackling at the end like static over an old radio that had lost signal.

“Kit, you need to calm down.” Ambrose said softly, eyes weary at the sparks and heat that was coming off the hero in front of him.

“Wow, look at you, Rosey. How far we’ve come. You’re scared of me for once,” Kit said, planting his hands on the table and rising to his feet. “Good.”

Kit raised his hand, pointing his index finger at Ambrose and raising his thumb, curling his hand into a finger gun. Then he lowered his thumb with a soft: “pew.”

Ambrose went hurtling back against the wall to Kit’s room, cracking the plaster on impact. Ambrose groaned as he fell to the ground, forcing his eyes to focus, but his brain was fried. Everything was coming too slowly for him to react.

Kit stepped around the table, following the telepath. Each step sent jolts of energy through his limbs but Kit couldn’t help it. He kind of liked it. This raw power coursing through him. It made him feel in control.

He ignored the voice in the back of his head telling him to stop. That this was wrong, that this wasn’t him. Oh this was Kit alright. This was all of Kit’s bottled up emotions, finally breaking free and showing Ambrose who really had the power in their relationship.

Kit stopped in front of Ambrose, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him to his feet. He shoved him against the wall, not shocking him, not yet. He just wanted to savour the look of fear in the villain’s face for once. The villain’s disheveled state, where strands of his perfect hair fell over his face, out of his control.

“Mallory, this isn’t you,” Ambrose told him.

Kit tilted his head. “Aww, is that really all you can think of in your defence, Rosey? It’s hard to think with electricity shocking your nervous system, isn’t it?”

“Kit—”

“Kit’s not home right now,” Kit cut in, chuckling darkly. The sound echoing in static across the apartment. “Or, well, he is. He’s me, I’m him. Let’s just say, his compassionate, heroic side isn’t steering the ship at the moment.”

Ambrose clenched his jaw. “Then which part am I speaking to?”

“The one that you created, Rosey.” Kit told him with a threatening purr. His smile widened as Ambrose paled. “The beaten, pathetic, powerless one that gathered every time you told us — not to use our powers. Every time Kit reached for them and couldn’t find them, guess what happened? I was born. A well of kinetic and potential energy, bubbling under the surface, safe in Kit’s subconscious.” Kit laughed and Ambrose flinched. “I liked you, Rosey. You just kept building, and building, and building me up until I spilled over. But y’know what? I like being in the driver seat. It’s fun being conscious.”

Ambrose didn’t know what to do as he stared at the monster in front of him. The monster that he created? Nobody had ever had side effects like this before, well, none that he of. Certainly not enough to make another personality emerge in the subconscious, but then again…

Ambrose set his mouth into a thin line. Kit was top of his class for a reason. Mentor chose him for a reason, and if Kit wasn’t lethal enough with just his skills his ability — electricity — was pure energy, pure force. It would take a lot for Kit to be able to control it, let alone suppress it. Ambrose vaguely recalled studying electricity in school, and all the different types of it.

No, that’s not what he should focus on.

His mind quickly poured over Kit’s words again until he found it, the important information. “Kit’s not home right now. Or well, he is. He’s me, I’m him. Let’s just say, his compassionate, heroic side isn’t steering the ship at the moment.”

Perfect. That meant all Ambrose had to do was reach in and pull the real Kit out to the forefront of his mind. Put him back in control.

Ambrose reached into Kit’s mind, quickly searching the strange cavern until he saw him. Not Kit, but a pulsing ball of blue electricity buried deep in the darkness.

“Mallory!” Ambrose called, his voice echoing in Kit’s mind. “Mallory wake—”

Ambrose screamed as he was pulled out of Kit’s head. It felt as if his body was burning under a stream of molten lava, singeing every nerve and fibre of his being. Every muscle seized and contracted, robbing every thought from his brain before eventually it stopped and he fell forward. His head fell onto Kit’s shoulder, his body riding out the aftershocks with a cry.

“Naughty, naughty Rosey. It’s rude to ask for someone else to join us when the fun’s only beginning! You get to play with Kit all the time, I never get to play with you.”

“Kit—” Ambrose said with a breath, his voice coming out weaker than he had ever heard it.

“Don’t worry. I know how much volts it takes to kill a human, and I only used a fraction of that on you, Rosey. See? We’re still friends! I would be nothing without you.” Kit grabbed Ambrose’s head and straightened him back against the wall. “So, how about we make this party really fun and use half the amount it takes to kill—“”

Kit shut up suddenly, stepping back. Ambrose slid heavy down the wall, mind racing. He had the right mind to glance up at Kit to see a resolute expression grace his lips.

“Ambrose, put me to sleep. Now! Fucking—” Kit dropped to his knees, screaming as red and blue sparks erupted around him. No, not around him. From him. Ambrose looked away, throwing his elbow up to shield his eyes. “AGGGGHHH! NOW! DON’T—”

Ambrose took a sharp breath and slammed his hand out. He reached into Kit’s mind and pulled the plug. Kit’s muscles went rigid, his arms dropping to his sides before he fell to the ground. Ambrose let out a gasp, falling forward to his hands and knees.

Ambrose sucked in a breath, his muscles trembling to keep him up. Fuck.

He pushed himself back onto his arse, eyes locked on the unconscious hero in front of him. His body still pulsed with energy, but at least he was out cold. Ambrose pressed a hand against his chest, still feeling the burn from Kit’s hand on his chest.

He glanced down, brows pinching together when he saw the char mark in the shape of a handprint on his shirt. Ambrose scoffed. “You little shit,” he said to Kit. “This shirt costs more than your apartment.”

Ambrose got to his feet with a groan. It has been a long time since somebody hurt him like that. Well, not counting all the times when Kit had surprised him. He let out a breath, that sounded eerily similar to a laugh, when he remembered Kit knocking him out and waking up tied up and gagged. Oh, those were the days.

He walked over to Kit’s coatrack by the door and rooted around in his overcoat pockets until his fingers touched the metal rings. He pulled them out and released them with a dull thunk.

He personally preferred not having to use Kit’s power dampeners. They weren’t exactly a tool that Ambrose needed. Besides, it was much more fun to force Kit to inhibit his own ability, but Ambrose had told him not to use his powers. He had done that, and somehow, the other Kit somehow managed to access his electricity to overpower Ambrose.

Ambrose walked over to the Hero, staring down at him with something unreadable crossing his expression. This was the kid that Mentor took under his wing, huh? He could see why Mentor would choose him, of all the heroes in the world, never mind the city, he’s the Hero Ambrose chose too, coincidentally.

Entirely coincidental.

It was strange.

There was something about Kit, something about him that drew people in like moths to a flame, but looking down at him now, Ambrose took in how young Mallory looked.

He was everything Ambrose wasn’t; where Ambrose was pale, Kit had a honeyed tan to his skin, and where Ambrose was dark haired, Kit’s hair was light brown. Not to mention the differences between Kit’s ridiculous haircut and Ambrose’s. Honestly, would it kill him to run a comb through his hair every once in a while?

Then again Mentor always had a soft spot for broken things, and who could ever compete with some scrappy orphan?

Ambrose sighed as he crouched in front of Kit, reaching forward to grab the boy’s wrists. A jolt of electricity passed through Ambrose’s arm and he cursed, yanking his hand back and shaking it.

“Even unconscious you’re still a pain in the ass,” Ambrose muttered, carefully reaching forward again and snapping the cuff around Kit’s wrist without touching him. The brightness in his veins dimmed and went out completely after Ambrose snapped the cuff on other his wrist.

He touched Kit’s hand again, testing the waters, and there was no shock or jolt that ran through him. Good. Ambrose got to his feet, satisfied that Kit wasn’t a live wire anymore and walked towards Kit’s bedroom. He opened the wardrobe and grabbed one of Kit’s sweaters, then paused, stretching the fabric.

God. The boy didn’t look this skinny. Ambrose had broad shoulders, something he was proud of, but at the moment he wished he was the same build as the young hero. He put the sweater back in and pulled out a larger hoodie. It was ugly but it’d do.

All of his insulators were back at his house, which meant he’d have to take Kit back too. He needed answers. He needed to understand why Mentor chose Kit, why he took him, why he raised him to follow in his footsteps.

He needed to know why Kit thought Ambrose was working with Supervillain. Too many unanswered questions for his liking, too many variables, and all of them hinged on the volatile hero in front of him. Well, Ambrose never got to where he was today without a little hard work.

At least, he noted, it was dark outside, so he could throw the unconscious hero into the backseat without too many questions.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie e @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour @tippytappytyping @stefaniesblogs @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump

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