Subject: [Indigofic-l] [ARSENAL] Secret Confession of a Screwup Slacker Himbo 1/1 PG [a little violence] Date: Thu, 18 Nov 1999 16:53:35 -0800 (PST) From: DISCLAIMER: They all belong to DC, not to me. PERMISSIONS: Standard rules apply. Pop up okay, not MST okay. ARCHIVE: usual rules apply. If you have permission -- go right ahead. If not, please ask. DEDICATION: To 'rith -- who asked nicely. FEEDBACK: Usual rules apply. To indigo@spork.com, but no flames please. Darkness falls, and I tuck my little girl -- my precious Lian -- into bed. I kiss her gently on the forehead, and she smiles in her sleep. She dropped off again in the middle of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I hate to leave her -- I could sit all night and watch her sleep, but there's work to be done. Work that Speedy failed at doing. Work only Arsenal can do. I walk past the few knick-knacks I keep in my bedroom and glance at the arrow over my bed, given me by my mentor. Ollie -- I miss you, man. More now than ever. The Titans would laugh if they knew their team's resident slacker screwup himbo basket job was really trying to be a serious guy underneath those Foster Grants. Well, Wally probably wouldn't, but this new guy -- even if Donna *does* vouch for him -- isn't the Wally we all knew and loved. Dick might not either, really. I don't think he's ever forgiven me for kicking him off the previous Titans team I ran for the government. And he's always thought that I never took anything seriously enough. But you know -- I'm not doing it for them, or even for Oliver's memory. I'm not even doing it for Lian, though hearing her say "Daddy, I'm proud of you!" makes any effort worthwhile. Working for the government may not have been the smartest move but it was a good one. I got connections from that -- and an ear to the ground. And that's what gives me nights like tonight. Nights when Arsenal -- even in orange, black and brown with a head full of red hair -- still slips into the shadows and does what needs to be done. Dickie-boy, even in his long pants, isn't the only one who swings through the rooftops, stalking like a panther through this jungle of steel and concrete. Okay, I'm no panther -- but I am a hunter. And my prey is a parasite on the heart of the city. It's great to be a Titan, for sure -- greater still to be part of a family and to have friends I can depend on. But nights like this -- when I fly alone -- I remember it's the small things that matter. Superman can do the whole cosmic, galactic thing. Kory has her starbolts powered by the sun. Flash and Jesse can speed-speak and be in two or three places at a time. But I can't. I'm one man. I have no powers. I'm human, but I'm the best human I can be. The best man I can be. All I have is skill I've had to develop myself. And I have to clean up my corner of the world one square inch at a time. Or one block. I've been tracking these particular little vermin for weeks, now -- every night, without fail. I've paid for it in the morning, practically mainlining Starbuck's. But tonight will make it all worth it. Because I will deliver the vermin into the hands of the police and clear off one more square inch of city. The trick arrows were tempting -- but they're showy, flashy, egotistical. I bet Oliver would be aghast that I think so. But sometimes, subtle is what gets the job done. It doesn't matter what weapon I use, really -- as long as the goal is reached. Tap, tap, tap -- three bundles of money, teleported -- courtesy of a little gizmo I had Vic whip me up. One went to the homeless mission. Another went to the shelter for battered women. And the last, with my compliments, went to the drug rehab center. They won't miss it, and if the police get it, it'll either end up in a store room, or lining the pockets of some corrupt cop. I may be a crimefighter, but sometimes the law can entangle you worse than your own mistakes. To take from those who took from others and give back to those who need it? Well, that's Robin Hood's way, and it works for me. I can feel a throb in my arm. Beneath the tribal tattoos, I can almost see the scars from the needle tracks. I know it's just my imagination; -- reminding me where I've come from and why sometimes I have to leave the Titans alone and go my own way. To do this. The human things they don't consider. The mundane stuff that nobody will put on the news. It still needs to get done, even if it doesn't generate a photo-op. And it's unkind of me, probably, to say they are that mercenary. They're not. They're all good people to the heart. Every one of them. I just think they don't concentrate enough on the little things -- where it all started. Below, the vermin lift their heads, scenting the predator on their trail, and they scatter -- nervous, and ready to run like quail or fight like weasels. No problem. I don't even need weapons for this. I let my training take over, and move my consciousness to a level where thought and action are all one smooth flow of motion. Fists and feet blur into action with a speed that won't even come near Wally's or Jesse's but is still fast enough to get the job done. I can hear the crunch of bone -- the squelch of blood. And part of me is sorry I had to take it here -- to hurt them to get them to stop poisoning the watering hole. But their only response if I hadn't would have been to kill me -- or worse, to hook me again, and make me one of them. I've been down that path, thanks. I have a daughter, now, and she's my life. I am responsible for her, and for a generation of younger heroes. I have an example to uphold. They're in a circle on the floor around me, and I'm not even breathing hard when it's all over. They'll wake with headaches and hopefully remember the price of their hubris. The drugs must be destroyed too, or they'll end up like the money. What will the police think when they arrive? It doesn't matter. There are enough guns and knives here to convict them on that alone. My knuckles ache, but I rub some distilled eucalyptus oil on them, and the ache subsides. Chamomile and lavender bath later, and to hell with Wally and Dick if they wanna chuckle -- it is great to purge the fatigue toxins, and it's natural. And I won't stink if Lian has a nightmare and crawls into bed with Daddy. The moon's still high in the sky -- that means there's enough night to do this a couple more times before they'll notice I'm missing and wonder what damn fool thing I'm up to now. Let them. I don't need the glory. I just need to know I'm making a difference. This is no world people should raise children in. And I have a little girl who *deserves* a world it is safe to raise kids in. It's really that simple. If I can make the world a better place, even a little -- then whatever I have to do to bring that about is worth doing. If that day ever comes -- no, *when* it comes... I can put my weapon down. -- fin --