It’s just hard to wrap my mind around escaping into fic when things like that are going on. To be honest, I’ve had a hard time with fic ever since my cousin passed away in 2009, almost feeling guilty about jumping into fic, yet also guilty about having all this fic to finish and leaving readers hanging. Guilt and stress are not the most inspiring of emotions and most of the writing I’ve been doing is for other outlets, just dry entertainment coverage and nothing that involves plotting or escaping into other worlds. I’ve also made a few vids for secret gift exchanges because it seems easier to do, having a kind of dry process. I don’t know why those have come easier to me than fic, possibly because there’s a set process and both are more about putting things that exist in order or perspective, rather than having to come up with your own story.
Regardless, I enjoy fic and enjoy writing and I should be making time for things I enjoy and time to finish what I started. So I am going to try to make these next months as consistent as possible with fic and updates and I thank you for your patience while I’ve been getting through this year and really, the ones before it. Here’s hoping I’ll be finished all my fics in the next few months so I can archive them somewhere secure (looking at Ao3) and move on to writing original romances.
On to the chapter. Replies to previous chapters after the chapter...
PREVIOUS CHAPTER
I’m going to be dealing with more of Masquerade in this one, though not all of it, since that one scene between Chloe and Desaad took a lot of words up and I needed room to keep the “present-day” action moving forward.
Chapter Thirteen
November, 2011
“… crazily enough, we don’t remember it. Long story,” Chloe was saying, holding out her left hand for Alfred across the table. “But then he got me this when we had an official one, which he just sprang on me when we… Oh! Sorry about that,” she said when her emphatic gesture knocked over her wine.
“Enough of that,” Oliver said, plucking up her glass.
“It’s fine,” Bruce grunted with his mouth full. “I have more.”
“Well, the little lady already killed a bottle of champagne in your limo,” Oliver had to go and say.
“Stop calling me little,” Chloe hissed. “But yeah. Probably no more wine.” She rubbed at her temples. “It’s getting me all headachey.”
February 14th, 2011
Chloe opened her eyes with a gasp and with a searing pain in her arms, the darkness around her coming into focus, the pain making it sharper. Where the hell was she and how did she get here? It was all so hazy and she tried to get her mind to focus and her feet to touch the floor. That last seemed to be beyond her, no matter how she grunted and stretched, but her mind…
They’d been in a trunk, she and Oliver, then forced from it and into a dingy apartment that wasn’t exactly in keeping with the Jones' limo driver and fancy reservations. Then she proceeded to use every bit of training the squad had given her to keep up with Oliver as they beat up what turned out to be the good guys.
Is that why she was hanging? No, this dank, dark didn’t seem like the FBI’s style. They left the apartment, didn’t they? They left once they realized it was the omega, the darkness the supposed Joneses were chasing. They’d gone to DeSaad’s creepy sex dungeon and Oliver scrambled up the side of it and... She struggled to remember through the pain in her arms and the insidious dripping noises around her. They were looking for Mr. Jones, but Mr. Jones --no-- Agent Vector found her. Hadn't he started cuffing her? Is that why she was hanging by the wrists?
No.
Because DeSaad came next. “He really didn’t have a clue,” he’d said, “but not you. You know all about me.” That was the last thing she heard before he flicked his wrist from several feet above and away and sent her into a wall.
It wasn’t true. She didn't know enough about him with a scant few minutes of reading, but she’d seen that symbol before she’d seen his face. It was hazy, but there in dreams left over from Fate's helmet. It wasn't something she dwelled on, like so many remnants. What she could do about them was only clear later. Besides, she needed to worry about what she could do now. Was this how Mrs. Jones ended up, strung up, feet barely touching the ground in what looked to be the dank, dripping ruin of a church with no way out? If someone could find her, though… Maybe someone was already on their way. Oliver might have been taken somewhere, too, being at the club, but maybe Clark…
The room seemed to lighten, as if the sun was coming up and there he was, as if thinking of him had just conjured him up. “Clark,” she breathed, relieved.
"Chloe." He moved to her, making quick work of her hands tied around that meathook above.
She had no idea how he’d found them, considering they hadn’t checked in, but Clark… Well, he did have a way of coming through at the last minute even when it seemed impossible. She collapsed, but he caught her.
"I thought I lost you,” he said, hugging her tight.
“I thought I lost me, too.” She hugged him back, thinking of all the times he saved her just like this. No wonder she spent so many years blindly infatuated with...
His hands on her suddenly changed. “I can't go through that again.” He pulled back, his eyes earnest. “Chloe, you know when something happens, and suddenly you're afraid that you can never go back? When you get these flashes going through your mind, flashes that you never expected? Flashes of you and I?"
"As in...?"
His hands were almost caressing now, his face moved closer. "What if we missed our chance?"
"What are you talking about, Clark?" she said, not sure if she was confused or horrified. Sure, she'd just been remembering of that age-old crush, but that didn't mean she wanted...
"One kiss," he said, leaning into her. "Come on. We never have to tell anyone. After all those years, don't you want to know?"
She did once, and maybe even for years, she absently wondered. That handful of kisses between them, every single one had been her kissing him. But now Clark was leaning toward her and that girl she had been wondered... Why? Why would he do this now? He was in love with Lois and she was in love with...
"No," she found herself whispering, seeing Oliver's face almost swimming over his. "No," she repeated. Whatever possibilities might have existed between them had been over long before...
Clark sped away and she frowned after him. That didn't seem right. Nothing about this seemed right. Why would he do this after all these years? And what would Oliver...
"Chloe."
She turned and there he was. "Oliver." She pulled herself up and stumbled to him.
"Thank God," he breathed, enfolding her. "Did I just see--"
"Ollie, something's wrong with Clark." She wondered if she should look around for red rocks, but most of her didn't want to think about it, didn’t want to let go of Oliver. She was so tired of it all sometimes, always on alert, always moving from crisis to crisis and never a rest... unless she was to count all these months alone. It wouldn't have been so hard if Oliver had been...
"Yeah, I know. I know. That's why we have to get out of here. Let me run away with you this time. And no more disguises, no more darkness..."
It was if he were reading her mind. "I would never ask you to do that." Maybe she would think it sometimes, but she would never be so selfish as to... "Why would you ever think that I would..."
"It's okay." He cut her off. "We don't have to try so hard to be heroes." He started away. "We're just human. There's plenty enough people here to fight the good fight without us." He turned back to her, holding out his hand, gesturing impatiently. "Come on. Come on, Chloe. We can be together." What had gotten into him? What had gotten into Clark? Neither of them were acting like they really… "Just take my hand. Come on." He smiled then, seemed almost more like himself. "Come on," he said more softly.
She smiled just a little, thinking of all her travels and how they would be with him instead of without him. Was it really that simple? She started toward him, then stopped. Because it wasn't that simple. How many times had she learned that lesson in her life? She couldn't be a part of saving the world and then walk away. And neither could he. Just last week, she couldn't even stop him from saving people when the threat of imprisonment was hanging over his head. Why would he suddenly...
"Come on," he said again, his voice almost a whisper, that same blank smile, as if cajoling her not to question it.
That didn't seem right. Even if Oliver did want to leave everything, he knew her better than to think there wouldn't be a long debate. Nothing about him seemed right. Nothing about all of this seemed right or real. It was if everything she thought of materialized before her. She half-expected Lois to waltz on and offer her her old desk at The Planet or...
She concentrated on Oliver for now, just standing there holding out his hand as if that was all it took. "Who are you?" she found herself asking, not even sure if that was the right question. She shook her head. The way everyone was acting... "Wait a minute. What is this?" She stared at "Oliver" still just standing there and realized the answer. "This isn't happening."
There was a flash behind her, then, almost like lightning struck the room and he was gone as if he'd never...
“Chloe,” she heard, a different voice, softer.
She whirled, seeing Lois now, the light playing over her face, making it almost a horrible mask of... something. She couldn't even put her finger on it, but she knew one thing. "You aren't real, either."
"Lois" circled her, a cruel smirk on her face. "Real enough for you to wonder if you will ever feel the happiness that Clark and I do. You envy what we have."
Sometimes, maybe. But never maliciously. They were able to have jobs, identities outside this crazy life, leave marks on the world, even a home life together that didn't involve constantly erasing who they were. Things she could never have because... Well, she wasn't sure. But she didn't blame them for that. "No. I have only ever been happy for Lois and Clark," she said, keeping her eyes on the thing that was wearing her cousin's face, wondered why she was arguing with someone who wasn't real, when something about this seemed familiar.
Her religious upbringing had been indifferent at best, but her father had sent her to parochial school that one year when he could afford it and it was enough to drum into her the seven deadly sins. "Wait. Envy," she breathed. Then turned to the door where Oliver or something that looked like him had been. "Leaving with Ollie would be sloth." She pointed at the hook she'd been hanging from. "And Clark's kiss is lust." Everything that came into her mind just appeared and cajoled and taunted and... She turned back to the thing calling itself Lois. "You're trying to tempt me."
"Bravo," It said softly. "But knowing that doesn't change how you feel. You just... have to admit it. You gave up everything that I have, and you want it back."
That wasn't true. Even if, at varied horrible times in her life, she had felt that way, she would never hurt anyone to get it. "Never, she whispered firmly. And nothing she was being offered tempted the person she had become or that she strove so hard to be. Whatever this was, it was just taking everything that came into her head and manipulating it into the worst, pettiest shape it could take. What was next? Greed? Gluttony? Lex Luthor marching in with a suitcase of money? A talking cheesecake? "Get out of my head!" she growled, sick of this already.
November, 2011
Bruce snorted. “Well, at least you're getting out for a change.”
“Hey!” Oliver piped up. “I take her out.”
“Yes. We are always traveling.” Chloe lifted her chin.
“For vacation or for the Get-Along Gang?”
“Justice League and you know it,” Chloe sneered. “And maybe most of our travel has been league-related, but we find our fun.”
Bruce leaned back in his chair. “Bet you never ended up wearing that dress.”
“What dress?” Ollie wanted to know.
“For your information,” Chloe said smugly, “I wore it last Valentine’s Day and we had an… exciting night on the town.”
Oliver turned to her. “Wait a sec, so that dress was from him? He buys you dresses?”
“He bought me a dress just… this one time,” she finished awkwardly. “And it was without my knowledge and...”
“Without my knowledge, too,” Oliver muttered.
“It wasn’t a big deal. I just… Well, almost everything I had after the Talon fire was old and he’d sent this, so I…”
“No. It’s fine. I love it when strange men buy my wife expensive gifts.”
“I wasn’t your wife yet and…”
Bruce chuckled across from them. “Seriously, this is a big deal? I only did it because…”
“You’re making it worse,” Chloe hissed at him.
“Come on. I was tossing all your miserable sweat pants into a box and it depressed me, so I had someone pick something out.”
“Yeah, fine.” Oliver waved him off. “Well, that cheap dress couldn’t survive even one night of kidnapping and torture, anyway, so just… tell your secretary or whatever to shop better.”
Bruce turned to Alfred. “Shop better, I guess.”
Alfred shrugged and smiled at Chloe. “I just thought you’d look lovely in it.”
“Oh. Well… she did,” Oliver muttered, sitting back and scowling.
“Kidnapping and torture, though.” Alfred chuckled. “What exactly does a night on the town in Metropolis entail?”
“Usually not that,” Chloe said quickly, then tilted her head. “Then again, pretty much that. And I do have a very bad history with formal wear. Even my prom dress was half-singed by the end.”
“At any rate, I suspect the three of you have more important things to discuss than my taste in ladies’ fashion.” Alfred stood.
Oliver stood as well. “Hey, I didn’t mean to…”
“Think no more of it.” He started gathering the plates. “Why don’t you lot retire to the drawing room and I’ll get the kettle on.”
Chloe did try to offer help, but Alfred refused, especially when she tripped over the leg of her chair. Tea would help. Anywhere else, she’d prefer coffee, but Alfred had a way of making tea strong enough to appeal to a coffee drinker’s palate.
It must not have been strong enough for Bruce, as he immediately added a splash of whiskey at his sideboard. “Cigar?”
“Ugh. No,” Chloe scoffed.
“I was talking to your jolly green giant.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Yeah. That’s hilarious, except for how it points out I’m taller than… Hey, are those Cuban?” Oliver moved to Bruce and took a cigar.
Bruce handed him a lighter. “I have a client who supplies me.”
“You know, it’s technically illegal,” Oliver said disinterestedly as he puffed it to life.
“In an antiquated, ridiculous way. Besides, so’s vigilante justice.” Bruce took the lighter back.
Oliver chuckled as they both sat and blew out long, noxious streams of smoke.
Chloe wanted to wave her hand and cough exaggeratedly to make a point, but it was kind of nice to see them almost getting along. Alfred, bless him, did stand and open a window with a wink at her. “Okay, so let’s just get this started. What do you know about the Suicide Squad?”
“That I want no part of them, for a start.” Bruce frowned and stared at his lit tip. “I had two run-ins with them at Arkham. In the first, I stopped them in an attempt to break Jonathan Crane , AKA Scarecrow, out, but I guess they were ready for me the next time. They managed to get Floyd Lawton, AKA…”
“Deadshot?” Chloe broke in. “He landed in Arkham? How?”
Bruce’s eyes shot to her. “You know him, too?”
“I trained with him,” Chloe said, shaking her head. “I told you before. I was never with the Squad except for as a means to an end, that end being saving my friends, in the end,” she finished awkwardly. “I’m just surprised he could get caught, considering his skill and aim.”
“Well, I can testify to that. He shot me in the jaw. It just wasn’t with a bullet. It was some kind of tranq that affected my nerves. I just remember chasing him and his pals through the woods surrounding when something hit me and I hit the ground. After that, I couldn’t move or even speak. I saw him above me and I thought he’d come back to finish me off, but he just signaled to someone. Then this rough-voiced jerk leans over me and starts in on his spiel…”
“Flag,” Chloe cut in. “It was Flag.”
“Babe, let him finish,” Oliver said.
“Well, it was!”
“It was,” Bruce agreed. “He started going on about the line between good and evil and how it doesn’t always make allowances for the greater good. The world and what it takes to keep things in balance is more complicated than that. He said they have intel on the future, one that can be prevented with help from the right people. Then he asked me if I believe in demons.” Bruce chuckled. “I would have said no, but I was under whatever nerve toxin they’d stuck me with. But he said the new year, that 2012, would bring one that was going to destroy the world as we know it,” Bruce let out a hoarse laugh, “like those crazy tinhats going on about the Mayan calendar and the bunkers in the mountains, storing food based on a triple date. Well, theyalways pick 12-12-12, so at least this was different in that way.”
“It was different in more than that way.” Chloe shook her head. “Bruce, these guys are a little crazy, but if they think something’s coming… Well, I’m just saying their intel might be legit.”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “Come on.”
“Bruce, I’ve told you. This world is not all explained by science. There are supernatural forces and more worlds and dimensions than what we can imagine here. This isn’t wishful thinking. I’ve experienced it all and… it wasn’t always pleasant.”
February 14th, 2011
"Get out of my head!" she growled, sick of this already.
The thing changed, flashing through Clark, Oliver, Lois again, until the room went dark. Or maybe it was always dark. She was still hanging, feet barely touching the ground, arms silently screaming in pain.
"It's the heart, actually," a soft voice said in her ear, "the window to the soul." She didn't have to see him to know who he was. "Both mankind's greatest asset and his weakness," he said in her other ear.
This part was real. She could feel his breath and it made her skin crawl. "So what?" She said, trying to sound braver than she felt. "You're just gonna put me through the seven deadly sins house of horror, try and convert me into one of your dark denizens? A little on the nose, don't you think?" He even had her in the leaking ruin of a church, for crying out loud!
"Oh, you might balk, but it's worked for me for a very long time." She suddenly saw the flash of a knife in his hand and couldn't stop the shudder that ran through her as he pressed it lightly between her breasts. "Most of you are quite easy to turn, but," he ran the tip over her collarbone, pressing in a little before sliding it higher, "others require a little persuasion."
She felt her arms released and dropped to the floor, panting and struggling to stay upright.
"The visions tend to cut to the heart of the matter," he said, moving behind her, that knife blade resting against her shoulder now. "Sin is a liability I exploit. You are more vulnerable than you think."
She hated the word. All this time training, all these years fighting. She could fight this, too. She had to. She faced him.
"You know what I am," he said before she could speak. "You know what I'm capable of."
She did and there was almost nothing she could do about it except die like the others. That was what happened, wasn't it? They gave in, wore the mark, or they died. And death was the only option unless...
"Kill me," he said, as if reading her mind, placing the knife in her hand, the tip against his throat.
She met his eyes, wondering what kind of trick this was.
"Your friends will all die if you don't," he said softly.
It was a trick, she realized, just another temptation. "You're trying to get me on wrath now, huh? Nice try... But I'm stronger than that."
His face flashed before her, but he didn't disappear.
"We are stronger than that, aren't we?” It was herself talking now, or some version of her, that white suit, that avatar she’d used to pull them all out of the virtual world. “We can resist any temptation,” It said, crossing behind a smirking DeSaad, “but what if we're doing it to save our own souls when we could be saving the world?” It leaned into her, but she shook her head.
“I will not take a life, period.” Hadn’t she left The Squad for just that? She was stronger than…
“Good girl. Stay strong,” It said, moving behind her, facing Desaad with her. “Beat him at his own game.” She wondered if the avatar wasn’t some trick of DeSaad. Maybe this was something inside her helping her fight. “Feels good, doesn't it? To be better than all of those that fell before him.”
No. Just another trick. Just another thing, even if it was wearing her face.
“Pride,” she breathed as DeSaad smiled blandly back.
“That's our hubris, our fatal flaw,” It said, pacing behind her, “our control issues, our grossly disproportionate sense of independence. Too proud to ask for help. That's why we vanished without a trace.”
“Shut up,” she hissed. He was winning. She could tell by his smug face as her own voice, even more smugly, ranted behind her.
“Too proud to face the fact that the world moved on without us.”
“I said enough!” she growled.
“All that effort you spent freeing yourself from your old identity, to suddenly give everything over for something lesser ... for a relationship!”
She turned and faced the thing wearing her face. It didn’t know her and neither did he. He was just digging in her mind and twisting her thoughts. She was more than that. Her life was more than that, even if it would be over soon.
She tossed the knife away, facing DeSaad instead of his phantoms. “Go to hell.”
“No. It'll be here soon enough,” he said calmly. “Sadly... You've grown just as useless as that knife. Tell me, Chloe ... when's the last time you had a nice, hard cry?”
She’d seen the pictures. She knew what he meant. She hated the idea of being found like the others, black ooze seeping from her eyes, just another victim. But she’d defeated her own pride by now. Hell, Fate’s helmet had helped before this, showing her she was just a small cog in a giant mess of wheels and works. If this was the end…
The world upended and she found herself on the floor of an empty warehouse with a familiar red and blue blur fleeing the scene. Since it rushed right off and didn’t stop to taunt her, she suspected that was the real Clark, having dropped her off with his usual finesse. She got up and started to dust herself off before she gave up and sank to the floor, finally feeling the pins and needles in her arms before the pain set in, searing enough that she may have passed out a little.
When she came to, the warehouse door was being slid open and she half-feared Desaad had found her, wherever Clark had her stashed, when she saw Clark pulling Oliver in. “I told you, she’s…”
Oliver rushed past him and knelt down to her. “What did he…”
“It doesn’t matter,” she breathed, gripping him.
“The hell it doesn’t,” he growled, pulling her in. She could feel him shaking, whether with fear or anger or even both. She looked over his shoulder at Clark. “Desaad?”
“I’ll take care of him,” Clark said, rushing out.
Oliver stood and pulled her up. “You know, I’d rather I…”
“I think you’ve done enough,” Chloe guessed, looking at Oliver’s knuckles. “What did you do?”
“A hell of a lot less than I wanted to,” Oliver growled, “considering the bastard’s still breathing. He said he killed you and I…”
“Hey.” She gripped his chin and pulled his gaze to her. “He obviously didn’t.”
“Well, he…” He looked Chloe over, reddening. “He ruined your damned dress, the…”
“It’s fine.”
“No. You never get to dress up and go out. You probably paid an arm and a leg for that and this f*cker goes and…”
“Oliver, it’s fine.” She pulled him down, kissing him soundly. "It wasn't expensive." That much was true. She didn't tell him why as she didn’t think telling him where the dress came from would help his temper right now. “He didn’t hurt me,” she said softly. “I’m more worried about you.”
“I… He didn’t hurt me, either. Can’t say the reverse, though.” Oliver gritted his teeth.
She didn’t much care if DeSaad got pounded, but Oliver still seemed so on-edge. Chloe peered closely at him. “Are you okay?”
Oliver seemed to shake himself. “Me? Yes. Fine. I just…” He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired.”
November, 2011
“Maybe he just needs to see these things for himself,” Oliver offered.
“Maybe he could also trust what we’ve seen.” Chloe let out a hoarse laugh. “I mean, take it from someone who grew up with an alien, Bruce. There is so much more than...”
“I don’t doubt what you’ve seen.” Bruce stubbed out his cigar, then rubbed at his eyes. “Listen, I get it. I get that these things exist and I’m sorry you've all had to go up against them, but I have enough to deal with here.” He met her eyes. “I've got a city overrun with crime and corruption at every level and I can't... I can't add anything else.”
Oliver leaned forward next to her, putting his own cigar out. “So even if our team and our resources could offer assistance here, you wouldn't take it?”
Bruce shook his head. “This is my town and this is how I work.”
“You know what? Chloe’s right. You are definitely stubborn,” Oliver stood, “but I'll add selfish for a more accurate...”
“Okay. It’s fine, Ollie.” Chloe stood as well, gripping his arm. “We're done, okay? We've approached him from every possible angle. He doesn't want in and we don't want someone who's not committed to the cause.”
“You make it sound like…” Bruce stood quickly. “Listen, I am committed, but it’s to my own cause and my city…”
“Yes, Bruce. We get it,” Chloe broke in.
Oliver paced to the open window.
Chloe turned to Bruce and tried and failed to smile. “Thank you for dinner and… for the info and… I guess I’m sorry for wasting your time.” She shrugged miserably. “If you could just show us where our coats have gone, we'll get out of your way.”
“I’ll get them,” Alfred said from the chair nearest the fire, standing.
“No, I will.” Bruce gestured for him to sit and stalked out of the room.
Alfred didn’t sit. He moved to Chloe, smiling sadly. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed on one hand. I rather liked the idea of Master Wayne having a team on his side. I’d worry less if I knew someone else was out there with him. On the other…”
“This is a world he hasn’t dealt with,” Chloe sighed. “It’s fine. I can be glad he's staying out of this for your sake.” She grasped Alfred’s hand. “Believe me. He's probably in less danger away from us.”
“Here.”
She gasped to find Bruce less than a foot away with their coats and quickly took both, moving to Oliver at the window.
“So Batman’s out. Doesn’t matter anyway,” Oliver said, helping her into her coat. “All that matters is what now. What's our move?”
Chloe took a deep breath and straightened his collar. “Same as before, I guess. Track down the squad, hack into their system, freeze it, hold it hostage, make a visit, find out what they...”
“We'll have to go back to Rhode Island for that. You'd need Victor and his system.”
“I don't know. The equipment there’s still mostly in boxes and… I'm not sure if I want to involve the gang until we know what we're dealing with.”
“Well, we don't have a good set-up in Star City yet, with the old wiring at the home base and then we still have staffing and leak issues at QI.”
She shrugged. “I could try from here.”
“On a laptop?”
“I've done more with less in the...”
“Chloe…”
She jumped to find Bruce right there again. “Could you stop doing that?”
“Listen, we’re going,” Oliver sneered. “Sorry to have bothered you.” He started to pull her out.
But she stopped, grasping his arm and turning to Bruce. “I don't want to leave things angry. I just... I’m not angry. I’m grateful. Thank you for everything you did for me before, Bruce. It was so much more than you had to do. And I'm sorry my team's been bothering you. I guess I always thought you’d come around and join us, but I think we understand now.” She smiled. “Still… You know, if you ever come up against something you can't handle alone, you know how to find me.” She moved to him with some idea of hugging him, then stilled, suddenly feeling strange about embracing him. All this time, she’d thought of him as someone in their team, their future. But he didn’t want to be there, so a hug felt presumptuous. She held out her hand instead. He took it, shaking rather limply. “See you around, I guess.” She moved to Oliver and started out.
“Wait.”
She turned back, wondering what she was supposed to wait for.
“That offer… It can go both ways. I’m not saying I’m signing up for your club, but your green guy's right.” He nodded to Oliver. “You're probably going to need more than a laptop to find this squad of yours.”
“So you were eavesdropping? And I told you, they're not my...” She stopped, stepping forward. “What are you suggesting?”
Bruce shrugged. “Just that you two stay here tonight. I’ve got more than enough room and… Well, I’ll see what I can do in the morning.”
Oliver stepped forward. “What you can do?”
“What Lucious can do, if you want to split hairs,” he said, his eyes landing on Chloe.
Oliver turned to her. “Who’s Lucious?”
“How to explain Lucious…” She smiled. “You know me, Victor, Steve Jobs?”
“Yeah?”
“Amateurs.”
TBC
I totally paraphrased a line from The Princess Bride there. Anyone who adores that movie could see which.
I’ll be back soon to deal with the end of Masquerade and a few things that I see as happening before Fortune, besides the “present.”
At the very least, I’ll be back way sooner than last time. Sorry again about that awfully long wait.
Now for replies to comments...
On Chapter 11:
never been bored reading your fics..it’s so great..thanks for the update... ^-^
I'm just so sorry the wait's so darned long, but I'm glad it's keeping you entertained. :)
On Chapter 12:
Do you plan on posting an update soon?
Thanks!
7 comments:
Wish I had the coherence for a more detailed review, but just wanted to say it's a pleasure to get a Chlollie update. So fun, too, imagining Chloe in the Batman world (Alfred is a favorite and you do him justice!) I don't really need yet another Chloe-ship, but a part of me kinda likes the idea of Mack and Bale flirting ever-so-slightly. On the other hand, I love the dynamic you have for the two of them here; sort of a platonic Chluce side-ship, almost sibling-esque. Thanks for the chapter and I look forward to the next, whenever it comes around!
I wish I had taken the time to post a comment when I read this chapter right after you posted it but sadly I forgot and now I'm getting busier and busier (a bit like you as I understand).
So, just letting you know I loved your interpretation of these scenes and I laughed a little at how superficial Desaad's mind-scanning abilities really were. It just seems to be the best way to look at the interrogation scene because half of these things never made sense in the show.
Anyway, thanks for that and I'll be around for the next one!
I miss this fic so much!
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