First off, I'M SORRY THIS UPDATE TOOK SO LONG! I'M SO SO SO SO SORRY!!! What's more, I'm even sorrier about the ridiculously long length of it! I promise to try my hardest to make shorter chapters! And just to reassure you all, I'm not about to give up on this story any time soon! Updates may be painfully slow, but I've put way too much thought in this to give up.

Oh yeah (I can't believe I keep forgetting to mention this _ I feel so stupid), but to anyone who's wondering, yes Terra and X are doing the same egg baby project that Terry did in Batman Beyond.

Chapter Three

Terra had been informed through her T-com what she and Beast Boy would be doing for their anniversary celebration, and she just couldn't wait. Robin would undoubtedly make them do ten laps around the tower or extra training exercises, but it would be worth it. There was nothing not worth this.

Full of excitement and adrenaline pulsing through her body at speeds unimaginable, Terra made her way over to the selected checkpoint where she would meet Beast Boy. And sure enough, there the green changeling was, standing just as excitedly outside Robin's bedroom door.

"Are you ready?" he asked her, doing a poor job hiding his giddiness.

"We are so going to get in trouble for this." she replied, equally nervous.

"It'll be worth it." He assured her.

Beast Boy cautiously creaked the door open, making absolutely sure that no one else was around—and when he was positive they wouldn't get caught, he stepped foot inside their leader's forbidden domain. Terra followed closely behind, taking the same precautions as he.

"Oh man, I'm gonna pee myself!" Beast Boy whispered loudly. But who wouldn't?

Terra couldn't help but quietly snicker at the comment. She was feeling the same way, after all.

Finally, they made their way to the boy wonder's closet. Beast Boy prepared to slide it open with his hands, but stopped to turn his head to Terra.

"Now, Terra," he cautioned, trying to be dramatic about it, "once we open this door, there's no turning back. Are you positive you want to do this?"

She crossed her arms and smiled, giving him a mock-"are you stupid? Of course I want to do this!" sort of look.

"Yes, I'm positive! Just open the door!"

"Alright, but whatever we may experience on the other side, just know that I'll always love you." He replied, maintaining his dramatic tone.

His ears receiving the joyful sound of Terra quietly giggling behind him, the changeling slowly slid the closet door open. And hark! Before them awaited a golden opportunity; a shining gift from Heaven itself. With its bright light flowing from the closet and shining upon them, the two gave the other silent looks that screamed "Dude! This is so friggin' cool!"

Whatever slight worry they had at first had been completely erased by overexcitement as they stared into THE LIGHT…or the contents of Robin's closet anyways.

***

Minutes later, a speeding R-cycle made its way through the city streets. Not one, but two "Robins" were riding on the vehicle, having the time of their lives as they sped through nighttime Jump City; the only lights illuminating it were that of the streetlights and the R-cycle itself.

The imposters—one green-skinned and the other blonde-haired—expressed their proclamations of joy in the form of loud, earsplitting cheering that rang all throughout the sleeping city.

The real Robin was going to kill them when he found out what the two of them did. Oh well. It'd be worth it.

***

On a nearby rooftop, a solitary figure overlooked the sleeping metropolis, a brown backpack resting over his shoulders. Hands resting against the four-foot tall safety wall surrounding the edge of the rooftop, the silhouette took a moment to admire the grand city before him.

The moon was full tonight. Good. He liked the moon. He couldn't explain it, but somehow, it just made him so full of life; made him feel like he could do the impossible. Maybe that's because when he was little, back when he and his family had nothing and lived on the streets, his parents would always tell him how man had set foot on the moon. And if he too put his mind to it, he could overcome any obstacle that would oppose him and set foot on that very same moon, and look down upon all those who told him he would get nowhere in life.

Red-X decided to take another minute to cherish his life. When the moon was out and he wore this suit, he was free; liberated from the spirit-crushing reality that was the life of Zeke Lancaster. Underneath this mask, his abusive father didn't exist. Those harassing calls from the IRS weren't real. His family wasn't dead—as if they had even existed in the first place. Those hard memories as a street rat never happened. That pathetic excuse for a human that was Zeke Lancaster was dead. Behind the isolated haven that was Red-X, he was free—truly free—from the gray encroachments of his life and could do whatever he wanted. He loved this freedom. Red-X loved it when Zeke was dead.

Alright, enough of the crap. He had a very important job to do and this reminiscence wasn't getting him anywhere.

He shifted his gaze over to the nearby pier, where a large freighter was coming in from Cuba. It weighed anchor and the smugglers were all busy unloading the heavy crates full of either weapons or stolen artifacts. No one would see him…so long as his sleeping "son" in the backpack didn't wake up and cry up a storm.

Red-X leaped off the rooftop and, using some of his fancy acrobatic techniques, safely landed quietly behind a tall stack of wooden crates. He peaked his head out to make sure no one had spotted him. Good. He was in the clear. Taking advantage of this opportunity, he stealthily made his way past all the smugglers and into the ship through one of its windows.

It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for—when you had a bird's eye view from high up in the rafters, you could see just about anything.

There, in the middle of the stacks of wooden crates, was his prize, an ancient golden scarab freshly stolen from Cuba. Truth be told, X didn't really care about its history or how its current owners came to possession of it, he only cared about how he was going to steal it and how much he would be paid for it.

Creeping along the shadows with the pale moonlight shining in from the windows, Red-X detached a grappling hook from his belt and securely fastened it around the rafter he was crouched on. He then double checked his backpack to make sure Little Bri—er, the egg was still asleep. Alright, it was still sleeping and showed no signs of waking up. With that, he zipped it shut again so it wouldn't fall out, wrapped one end of the grappling hook around his left fist, and descended to his selected destination—a near-perfect imitation of Spider-Man.

All the smugglers were either outside unloading the contents of the wooden boxes or in the main quarters of the ship drowning themselves in champagne, so he didn't have much to worry about. Still, he wanted to make sure he did this right.

He was now only inches away from the treasured scarab. Extending his right arm, he managed to reach it and brought it up to eye-level.

"Got ya." Red-X triumphantly whispered.

While partaking in his brief victory, a sudden shrill cry rang through the air, piercing his ears. Panicked, he the scarab slipped out of his grasp and onto the floor. That he could care less about; the current problem was the locating source of the crying. That didn't take him very long.

Still suspended upside-down, he slung the backpack off his shoulders and checked inside. Yep. His idiotic "son" had woken up and was crying like the baby it was programmed to be.

"Shut up!" he harshly whispered at the egg, but to no avail.

The sonic waves of the crying rang all throughout the ship and even outside at the docks. Within what seemed like a second, X, still suspended upside-down holding onto the grappling hook with one hand and the occupied backpack with the other, found himself surrounded by dozens of unsightly thugs and their 30 caliber friends—and none of them looked very happy, to say the least.

Eyes wide open, he took a moment to familiarize himself with his surroundings and then looked down at his still crying son.

"Ugh! Do you see what you do?!" he moaned, clear hints of annoyance in his tone.

The smugglers opened fire upon him, but, acting solely on instinct, Red-X released his grip on the grappling hook and teleported back up into the rafters just before hitting the ground.

It didn't take the thugs long to figure out his whereabouts as one of them pointed to the silhouette hidden in the shadows.

The army of metal ticks continued their loud march at their elusive target as Red-X's silhouette swiftly evaded each one with its impressive finesse—a shadow's dance among the rafters. Deciding to sneak in a blow, Red-X tossed a small, metallic disc from his belt and into the middle of the fray. Instantly, four crimson red elastic beams shot from the disc, each in different directions to resemble an "X" figure, and each impenetrable beam stuck to the torsos of four thugs (kinda like one of them sticky hands, except much stickier…and without the hands) and once each end had a victim, the disc violently retracted the elastic beams, taking the thugs with them and ultimately causing them to crash head-first into another.

This impressive performance distracted the other smugglers for a moment, but they reopened fire upon the thief.

Thinking quickly, X back-flipped from one rafter to another, tossing a swarm of electric x-shaped shurikens into some of the thugs' guns, instantly electrocuting them and rendering them unconscious. Ah, the magic of xenothium. Ya gotta love it.

As he safely landed on the parallel support beam, X noticed something—the crying baby, IT WASN'T IN HIS BACKPACK ANYMORE!!! In all the confusion, he must've forgotten to reseal his backpack!

Eyes once again popping open at the horrific discovery, he frantically scanned the area for that stupid egg—and there it was, rapidly falling (and crying) towards the floor below.

Not even thinking, he used his legs to catapult himself off the support beam, and he caught Little Bri—er, that stupid egg—only moments before it could hit the ground, and he landed rolling from his shoulder and onto a crouched position with one knee planted on the ground.

They were on the floor now, the scared egg safely secured in his father's arms with his long black cape surrounding them both.

Red-X gazed at his son, relieved he was alright, when he quickly glanced back upward and saw one of the smugglers aiming a massive bazooka right at him!!!

Survival instincts once again taking over, he dropped himself lower to the ground in the blink of an eye, all the while protectively holding his son close to him, and just barely evaded the roaring missile as it flew mere inches above his head and caused a brilliant explosion from the explosive crates it collided with behind him. Smoke and debris flew overhead, but the egg was safe, and that's all that mattered for the moment.

With the makeshift smokescreen making it impossible for the remaining thugs to have a visible target, Red-X teleported he and his son back into the rafters high above for a moment's recuperation.

He was relieved his whiny little son was alright, but it was really starting to annoy him beyond all reason. Wait a second—why was he referring to that thing as his son? Dang it, this thing wasn't even real! It's just some stupid project that he was assigned to work on with the biggest pain in the butt to ever roam the earth…and furthermore, why was he still cradling it in his arms?!

"You know, I really wish you would shut up." he spoke once again to the egg, but the skull mask along with the threatening filtered voice only made things worse.

Sighing, he reached over his head and prepared to drop the little egg back into the backpack…but not before it could blow chunks all over his cape!

X's eyes re-grew to the size of dinner plates as he heard the sickening sound of vomit from the crying object behind his back.

"What the—AW, NOT ALL OVER THE CAPE!!!" he complained once again. Did that stupid egg even know how hard it was to get this suit? Furthermore, did it know that it was powered by xenothium, an element even more dangerous than nuclear energy?! You do NOT regurgitate all over an illegal, stolen suit!

But his complaint had given away his position; below him, Red-X could hear the thugs scrambling beneath him, preparing to reopen fire.

"There he is! Up in the rafters! Shoot him!" went the unintelligible cry of one of the very angry men.

Red-X didn't think it possible for his eyes to grow more than they already had, but one good look down the long barrel of the reloaded bazooka aimed right at him and they could barely even fit on the mask anymore.

The egg still cradled in his arms, parent and child dove off of the rafters, the large explosion from the rocket destroying the support beam they had been on only moments ago.

Safely landing on the ground with all that machinegun fire flying everywhere would've been impossible for any normal human, but somehow Red-X managed to do it. Finding a nearby wooden crate, he placed the egg baby on it in order for him to regain full use of his hands. Without that darned piece of machinery to hold him back, he now evened the odds.

A thug was foolish enough to attempt to take down X using an overhead swing with nothing but a crowbar. Unlucky for him, a large red four-edged blade erected from the top of Red-X's right hand and caught the crowbar in mid-swing. From there, X dropped to the floor again and performed a low sweep-kick at the criminal's legs, knocking him off his feet and face-first onto the unforgiving ground.

No more than twenty feet behind him, another thug wielding a machine gun opened fire at the thief once again, but Red-X quickly outstretched his left palm and a strong concentrated laser beam fired from the "X" imprinted on the palm of his glove. The laser effortlessly evaporated the bullets before they could reach X and blasted the smuggler squarely in the chest, sending him flying into a wall of stacked crates behind him and causing the wooden mountain to collapse on the thug and all those nearby him.

"Where is the one responsible for this?!" and angry, Latin-tinted voice angrily called out.

X quickly turned back around to see a tall man with a clean, bald head, a scar beneath his right eye, and a hook replacing his left hand

Enrique El Gancho. The crook behind this smuggling operation.

El Gancho took one good look at the costumed thief who dared interfere with his business, but only raised an eyebrow at his rather odd appearance. Oh great. Another costumed vigilante had come to mess with him.

"So, it seems I will never be free of you masked heroes meddling in my work. And just who are you supposed to be?"

Red-X should have had a high criminal profile; one even higher than Deadshot the assassin or the terrorist Slade. But the government wanted to keep the existence of xenothium a secret to the public, on account of its extremely dangerous capabilities. And giving Red-X a high profile would only compromise the safety of the public. If that xenothium were to be discovered and fall into the wrong hands and be converted it into some kind of weapon, the results would be catastrophic beyond anything history had ever seen. There were only a select few crime syndicates that had come to know him over the past year and a half he'd been active, and even they hardly knew anything about him. But Red-X really couldn't care less whether he stayed an enigma or not.

Answering El Gancho's question, Red-X replied,

"In a hurry. Listen, smiley, I'd love to stick around and play a little longer…"

X took a step forward and reached into a pile of destroyed crates, picking up the golden scarab which he'd dropped earlier, and held it up before him for all to see.

"…but I'm only here for this thing. And besides, the missus is out tonight, and if she finds out I took junior to work with me, trust me, it won't be pretty. I've only seen her happy and she already bugs the hell out of me!"

El Gancho raised an eyebrow in confusion of the thief's explanation.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a job I need to finish." he concluded while putting the artifact safely away in a pouch on his belt.

X turned back around to pick up the egg when he heard the synchronized clicking of approximately a dozen 30 caliber machineguns right behind him. He looked past his shoulder, and sure enough he found himself gazing down the dark, fully loaded gun barrels right behind him.

He knew just how to get out of these kinds of situations—he always does—but this escape route was one he never saw coming.

Right when El Gancho was about to give the order to blow the thief into the next life, the chorus to Green Day's "St. Jimmy" suddenly rang loudly throughout the room. It took a moment for Red-X to realize that it was his cell phone ringing, and not a local concert. Darn.

Making sure to keep his eyes on the men surrounding him, he cautiously reached into a side pocket on his backpack (which was still on his back) and slowly pulled out the phone. Once he was certain that they would wait for him to take the call, he switched his gaze over to the caller ID bar. Funny. He'd never seen this number before.

After a moment of battling himself over his next course of action, Red-X pulled the mask up to the bridge of his nose so that the voice-filtering system wouldn't interfere with his call. And besides, whoever this was wanted to talk to Zeke Lancaster, not James Earl Jones.

Flipping the phone open with the same hand he was holding it with, he held the phone against his ear and naked mouth and spoke into it.

"Uh…hello?"

He'd soon wished he'd never opened it up in the first place.

"Hi, X!"

Dear God, not her!

On the other line, there was Terra, still wearing Robin's stolen uniform and using her T-com to call her partner.

"Terra?! How did you get my—"

"I'm just calling in to see how Little Brion's doing. So, have you two bonded yet?"

X took an exasperated sigh. Oh great, now she wanted him to bond with this stupid egg too?

"No, Terra, I have not "bonded" with this stupid thing because, unlike you, I am not a freak."

"C'mon, X, I know you've been spending some father-son quality time with him. So, what've you guys done?"

She wanted to hear about "father-son quality time"? Well, then she would get it!

"Um, let's see…we rented a porno, I taught him every swear-word known to man, filled his milk bottle with some Bud-light, and we're going to a strip-club later tonight."

Silence on Terra's end confirmed that her jaw was gaping open at the horrific lie. It was fun doing this to her…well, until she finally regained the ability to speak, that is.

"YOU DID WHAT!?!?!?!" Terra frantically and furiously screamed into her T-com, which directed the sonic disturbance right into X's ear.

That hurt.

"I was KIDDING!!! Jeez, can't you take a joke? And, don't you say you can't, because I know you're going out with that green joke of a Titan!"

Enrique El Gancho and his men all stared at the odd sight that played out before them. Two meta-human (or at least one of them was) teenagers were senselessly arguing over the phone about the stupidest things. It was really quite a thing to see. Whatever strong influence of fear Red-X had distilled over the smugglers was now gone, and could never be rebuilt in a million years.

Finally, the shouting seemed to quiet down, and Terra finally remembered why she'd called in the first place, but the anger from that comment about Beast Boy in her voice was still easily detected.

"Can I talk to the baby?"

Sighing from his "wife's" ridiculous request, Red-X mustered out his response,

"Fine", and held the phone beside the egg's ear…or where there should've been an ear anyways.

"Hi, Little Brion! It's me—Mommy!" Terra excitedly greeted her child. She seemed to have this parent thing down pretty well. Perhaps a little TOO well.

The little baby instantly squealed with joy at the very sound of his loving mother's voice.

To X, who looked back over at the thugs that were stifling their laughter, this was just embarrassing. Possibly even more embarrassing than that wrestling match he and Terra had earlier today…no, nothing could beat that.

The little egg just kept on joyously laughing from the conversation he and his mother were having, but X just couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh, God, this is so stupid." he moaned to himself

Finally, he just put the darned phone on speaker, set it beside the egg, pulled the mask back over his mouth, and turned back to the smugglers behind him.

"Now, where were we?" X asked them, clearly annoyed and ready to jump into a brawl.

And not a moment too soon, they had restarted their fight.

The roaring of bullets soared wildly, followed immediately by the loud, bone-crunching counterattacks from Red-X's fists or an explosion from one of his odd gadgets. On top of all that, some of the men were swearing up a storm from getting their rears handed to them so easily.

Terra could hear all the commotion on her end and quickly grew upset at the irresponsibility of her "spouse"—what on earth could he possibly be doing to cause all that noise?

"X, what's all that noise?!" Terra shouted at him through the phone.

X was now at the bottom of a rather big dog pile and desperately trying to crawl his way out. The others on top of him heard his supposed wife on the other line (who couldn't hear her?) and looked down at the unfortunate thief underneath them.

"Damn, man, I'd hate to be you right now." one of the thugs commented.

"Yeah, what'd you ever see in her?"

Oh great. Now he was getting sympathy from the low-lives he was supposed to be beating into a pulp—could this night get any worse?

Finally, Red-X managed to crawl half-way out of the dog pile (everything from the waist down was still buried) and he brought a hand up to his mask to raise it up to the bridge of his nose so he could speak.

"I HAVE THE FRIGGING TV ON!!!" his natural voice screamed back from all the frustration and humiliation he was facing.

"Well, turn it down! And would it kill you to be a little happy?!"

"WOULD IT KILL YOU TO GO TO—"

Before he could finish, one of the thugs on top of him whacked him upside the back of his head.

"Sheesh man! Language!" the thug scolded.

"Yeah, man, is that any way to talk to your wife?"

"SHE'S NOT MY WIFE!!!" X furiously screamed back at them.

"Knocked her up before the altar, eh? Not the smartest move in the world."

"Yeah, man, you're a really bad father."

Alright, he couldn't take it anymore; overheating from all the anger, Red-X threw them all off of him in one furious move—one might easily mistake him for a Super-Saiyan—and mercilessly knocked the living daylights out of them.

After mere seconds of a brutal and unfair fight, X, panting heavily from the frustration, walked back over to the phone he left beside the egg on the crate and picked up on his conversation where he left off.

"There…I turned it down…happy?" he seethed the words through his unmasked teeth.

"Very much, thank you." she answered back happily, as if she weren't even angry a second ago.

O, how X sincerely did not like her. Why couldn't she be like Robin or the other Titans and just be a pushover? WHY did she have to be a bigger nuisance than him?

"Well, I need to go now. No doubt Beast Boy's getting impatient. Bye, X! Bye, Bri—"

Red-X hung up on her before she could complete her sentence.

After pulling the mask back down, he then looked down at his bubbly son, still happy from being able to hear his mother's voice again, but X was still too stressed to feel anything from his son's innocent laughter. In fact, he seemed to be laughing at him.

X glared at the thing with narrowed slits, expecting it to obediently shut up like a good son—uh, EGG—should.

Instead, the little egg gasped as if something bad were about to happen, his mouth taking the form of an "O". X, slightly puzzled at the thing's response was completely unaware of the tall figure behind him about to cut his head clean off with his left hook-hand.

"What?" X asked the egg, oblivious to his current predicament.

Glancing behind him to see if there was a source more frightening than he should've been, Red-X saw El Gancho, mad for revenge, preparing to bring the steel hook crashing down on him and the egg.

Thinking quickly or not at all, X dove over the crate before him, picking up the egg and holding it close to him in mid-flight, and just barely avoided the crushing impact of the hook as it disintegrated the wooden box to splinters.

Landing by somersaulting on his shoulder, X quickly stood back up with the egg still in his arms and prepared to face this one last opponent before leaving to collect his payment.

Whereas it was happy just moments ago, the little egg was now crying again. Whether it was from X's skull mask, the fact that he wasn't talking to his mother anymore, or the overall situation, Red-X really didn't care. He just wanted it to shut up.

And despite the loud crying, X still managed to focus on the charging enemy; with each wild swing of the hook, Red-X instinctively shuffled back to avoid each blow. And with each step back, El Gancho took one forward; continuing to strike and miss as the thief managed to weave away from each blow. Finally, X broke the pattern by landing an unexpected head-butt against Gancho's skull. While it stunned the enemy for a few valuable moments, that also hurt X too.

Little Brion, however, thought this slapstick was hilarious, and it showed when he broke out into his cute baby laughter.

The small concussion on X's behalf only made him even more annoyed at the laughing egg.

"Alright, that's it! I'm turning you off! Now where's the off-switch on you?" Red-X asked as he began examining all sides of the machine for the button he so longed to find…what he found instead however, was the last thing he hoped would find.

While he'd turned the egg upside-down to see if the switch was down there, he was immediately met with a concentrated arc-beam of urine hitting him squarely on the chest.

1. What was he thinking searching down there for an off-switch?

2. WHERE was all this urine coming from?! This thing was just an animatronic egg and it didn't even have any organs!

3. Was that little punk STILL LAUGHING?! Okay, it spent waaaaay too much time with Terra if it laughed this much at X's humiliation.

Normally, this sort of thing would anger Red-X even more, but all the stress of this day alone had worn him out by now, so he just accepted it. That's it. He just stood there, a blank "whatever" expression on his face, and a lemonade sea mercilessly moistening his suit.

Whatever.

Just whatever.

Screw this little egg, just whatever.

El Gancho was regaining his focus and, despite seeing his foe in a handicapped position, followed through with an attack from his hook anyways. He charged at the man in black, screaming, and a passionate thirst for victory swelling up inside of him. His opponent was still just standing there and looking at him with that blank "whatever" look; not the least bit fazed at the charging rhino of an opponent rapidly approaching him.

Finally, Red-X was within the reach of his deathly hook. Still screaming out for blood, El Gancho raised the hook above his head and prepared to strike.

"This is the end for you, Red—"

Before the smuggling operator could deliver the fatal blow, let alone finish his sentence, X nonchalantly turned the whizzing egg around so that it was facing the hooked-man. Poor ol' Gancho was met with the strong current of a burning yellow river flying directly into his eyes.

O, how it burned.

In a state of incomprehensible pain, the bald criminal staggered back and, in a desperate act to protect his eyes, moved BOTH hands up to his eyes…bad idea when you have a sharp deathtrap for a hand.

Needless to say, it sucked to be him right about now.

And while all this was happening, the egg baby was still laughing and Red-X still didn't give a care. Actually, this was kind've funny. Feeling the urge rising up, he mildly joined his baby in laughter. And while they were laughing, neither of them bothered to notice that Gancho, in his confused state, had tripped over the discarded bazooka from earlier and accidentally launched the rocket into the mountains of explosive-filled crates all around them!

The chain of explosions quickly caught the attention of Red-X, Gancho, and woke up the unconscious smugglers.

The unintelligible horde of criminals frantically ran out the doomed ship any way they could—some even jumped out the windows—knocking X over in the process. But even stuck in this setback, X held the ignorant egg baby over the crowd so that it wouldn't be damaged from the stampede.

The freighter was completely evacuated (save for X and his son), but still the fiery chorus swelled. Smoke was filling the area and flames were shooting up everywhere.

Red-X lay on the ground, previously trampled upon, paternal instincts still forcing him to hold the now crying egg up in the air, even though he no longer had to. When he regained consciousness and noticed the smoke, his eyes shot open at the sudden realization that the smoke could kill the baby! His mask had an oxygen filtering system built in it, so he would live, but as for Little Brion…

Going against his self-preservative nature, Red-X removed his mask, freeing his messy red hair, and stuffed the baby in it as if it were a sack of some sort. Lucky enough, the egg was roughly the size of X's head, so it fit in the mask like a glove. Now breathing should be easier for the crying egg.

Though conscious, he was still sore from his trampling and was having trouble lifting himself onto his knees—from there he would attempt to stand again, so long as his aching back and legs didn't give out.

It was only now, after he'd removed the mask from his own face, that X realized how hard it was to breathe in this atmospheric mess. He let out a series of violent coughs to clear out his throat.

Holding the protected baby close to him, Red-X looked up at the ceiling and saw the burning roof falling right at him! Eyes widening, he punched the button on his xenothium-powered belt and teleported himself and the egg out of there, just barely cheating death.

He reappeared on the same rooftop as when he'd started the mission, and dropped down to his hands and knees, inhaling the sweet oxygen he missed so dearly. It wasn't until he heard the baby continue to cry that he remembered that he wasn't wearing his mask anymore. He set the makeshift sack gently on the ground, opening the mask so that he could see the sad, scared little egg, just wanting to be held in his dad's arms in order to feel secure again.

Red-X couldn't help but smile softly at the baby. Sure it had hurled all over his cape and whizzed on the costume, but it also made a mockery of Enrique El Gancho and caused the destruction of the entire freighter (not to mention all the weapons, drugs, and stolen goods inside of it)—all without even trying. Maybe this egg was more like X than he let on.

"Kid," X started, a hint of amusement in his voice, "you're going to be the death of me."

***

Deep within the urban sewer of Gotham City, in a fancy upper-class night club filled with all the rich folk the city had to offer called the "Ice-Burg Lounge", a portly man, short in stature, made his way into his darkly lit, private office.

His name was Oswald Cobblepot, but all the thieves and crime lords knew him better as "The Penguin", one of Gotham's untouchable kingpins of crime.

The portly little man, dressed sharply in his expensive tuxedo and Mr. Peanut-style hat, walked into the dark room, preparing to go to work.

"…and remember, Lark, the police claim they've found evidence connecting me to the string of robberies across town, so be sure to pay them off before the word spreads too far." the corrupt businessman instructed to one of his workers.

The waitress did not respond, but only nodded in acceptance, as she was trained to, and left to carry out her newly appointed task.

And with that, Cobblepot discreetly closed the door behind him and took his seat at his desk and prepared to go to work…that is, before a distorted voice startled him.

"Hey there, five chins, how's crimes?"

Good. Red-X had arrived.

"Ah, Red-X. So good to see you've made it back alive. I heard there was a disturbance by the docks and began to worry."

"I'm flattered." the hired thief sarcastically commented.

"So, do you have the scarab?"

X reached into a pouch on the side of his belt and pulled out the golden artifact his employer had requested for.

"You know it." X replied as he carelessly tossed the small, priceless object towards the Penguin's lap.

"Splendid." Cobblepot answered back, clumsily catching the thing before it could hit the ground.

"And the payment?" X asked expectantly, crossing his arms in a demanding sort of fashion.

"Oh, don't worry, I've got it all right here."

There seemed to be a hint of annoyance in the portly man's tone, but that was common for those who were unfortunate enough to meet Red-X. He reached underneath the desk and set a briefcase of $100,000 on top of it, opening it to show him it was for real.

"I hope this is to your satisfaction."

Red-X studied the payment briefly, taking extra care not to seem desperate. This would be enough to help him pay for all those bills piling up back home. He was once a well-feared and respected tech thief, but ever since the situations at home started getting worse, this was what he was reduced to.

"It'll do. Thanks, tons-of-fun" he said, maintaining his cool and unloading the money into his backpack, taking care not to crush the sleeping egg baby inside.

"Please, enough of the fat jokes." the Penguin replied, keeping his dignified tone.

"So, what's with the sudden interest in Cuban gold? I thought you were into bird crap."

"Oh, this isn't for me—it's for a client of mine; it will make him very happy…and me very rich. Anyways, I have another assignment for you..." Cobblepot paused a moment, taking a whiff of the air and, a second later, choked on the stench of urine and vomit invading his office.

"By my bird feathers, what is that putrid smell?!"

X, done putting the money away, gave Penguin a blank look, and he took the hint—Penguin also really didn't want to know what happened to him to make him smell this awful.

Spraying some air-freshener in the room, Penguin continued what he was going to say:

"As I was saying, I have another job for you; archaeologists have recently discovered a new diamond in the South Pole that I've taken a great interest in."

"And why's that?"

"I believe that this is the same diamond that I lost in a fight to Batman in the Arctic nine months ago. It was always my favorite."

"Ah. So it's got sentimental value. So, tub-of-butter, exactly how much is this thing worth?"

Cobblepot chuckled.

"I'll be paying you far more than what you've been paid you before if you pull this job off right—and you can't possibly miss the diamond, it's roughly the size of your HOT-AIR-FILLED HEAD."

Red-X slightly raised one of his eye slits in mild amusement.

"Touché, Pengy. So again, exactly how much will I be paid for this?"

Cobblepot leaned back comfortably in his chair, folding his hands together on the table before him and raising his chin up high to further declare his power and dignity—something he suspected the thief before him didn't have—or maybe once did, but had since lost it—just to rub it in.

"One million dollars." he told him slowly, savoring the moment.

Red-X tried his hardest not to seem as if this were a lot, but the slits of his eyes grew wider, just slightly, barely noticeable to the human eye, but it was still enough a hint for Penguin to deduce that he had him at his mercy.

"I'll consider it." X replied, keeping his cool, laid-back tone.

"Well consider it soon; the diamond arrives in the Jump City museum this Wednesday."

And with that, Red-X slung the backpack back over his shoulders and climbed up to the sill of the window, preparing to leave when he suddenly remembered something:

"Oh yeah, I ran out of xenothium on the way here—can I get a ride back to Jump?"

Penguin leaned forward, elbows propped up on the desk and chin resting against his raised, folded hands, a sinister chuckle escaping his fish-scented mouth. No, he wouldn't grant the thief's stupid request…not after their history of fat-jokes anyways.

***

It was always darkest before the dawn in Gotham city, and the dawn was nowhere in sight as of yet; only black clouds and a dark sky depressed the corrupt city.

X, changed out of his Red-X uniform and back in his civvies, sat impatiently at a bench next to a bus stop, the egg baby snuggled comfortably in the backpack beside him. He wasn't tired at all; he was a natural night-owl in fact, as his job demanded.

He was wearing his dark gray jacket to keep him warm and a short-sleeved black shirt underneath. His legs didn't need much to stay warm, just a pair of blue jeans and he was set to last the night. His hands, however, didn't have any covering, so he kept his arms folded in order to keep them warm. But that wasn't all—the night's cold chills had also penetrated his unprotected face, and it was starting to turn red as a result.

Finally, the bus had arrived; he could only hope they had a heater inside. Making his way up the steps, he dropped the proper amount of bus-fare into the box and ventured further down the aisle, taking a window seat near the back.

There weren't many other people in here, so he figured a quiet ride back home would be guaranteed…NOT. Before the doors could close, a little old lady, possibly in her late eighties, slowly made her way down the bus and took a seat right next to X, much to his dismay. The old dinosaur was in a talkative mood.

"Hello there, young man," the old lady greeted, in her aged and weary voice, "that's quite a large backpack you have there."

"All the better to pummel someone with." he unenthusiastically replied, referencing the infamous lines of the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood. It seemed fitting, given that the lady beside him was probably around back when that story was first made.

"You know, that reminds me something that happened to me back in the summer of '29…"

"Lady, I really don't want to hear about—"

Too late. She'd already started her boring life-story—and judging by the legions of wrinkles on her face, it would be a long one.

"Bert and I were on our way to the World Series in San Francisco, riding on a pair of cows that we'd stolen from that nasty old Mr. Krummel from down the street. You see, he'd been in the cow-pirating business for some time, making pirated cows to sell to Bosnia for twenty circus monkeys each, so he was making a killing out of this. So Bert and I thought we'd take some pirated cows and go watch some baseball with them, but along the way we met the nicest man to ever live. I believe his name was "The Ghost of Henry Morgan", or something like that. Anyways, Mr. Morgan had come to devour our souls and use them to resurrect himself from beyond the grave so he could continue his career of privateering, which is quite different from pirating, mind you. And oh, he was so nice. And that's when we realized we forgot to get dressed that day, so we found some stray Chihuahuas and…"

Some time went by, and X was annoyed beyond all reason. For an old lady who should have trouble breathing, she sure could talk for a long time. In a futile attempt to block out the noise, the jammed his fingers inside his ears, but it was all for naught as the ancient rambling machine continued its relentless assault of useless crap.

"…which would explain how he was able to pull a whole undead guinea pig out his nose. And the next day, Bert and I were jumping over our Chinese neighbor's fence so we could get those nachos back. There's something we learned the hard way; never give an atomic wedgie to an Arabian tiger-tamer, because you never know if those blood-thirsty tigers have rabies. So, Bert got the nachos back, but the neighbor's dog wasn't being very nice that day, so Bert just kicked him right in the jaw and sent him flying into a bus flying straight for the sun. I wonder if he ever met that pirated cow that jumped the moon…"

Good Lord! Would she ever just SHUT UP?! X pushed his fingers deeper into his ears. He didn't care if he poked a hole in his brain from all this, HE JUST WANTED SOME DANG PEACE AND QUIET!!!

"…which is really only legal in Egypt, but we figured 'what the hey?'. And then he proposed to me right there on the spot—now you see, we were poor, and he couldn't afford a ring, so instead he used a stolen pig fetus. Oh, it was so romantic. We had our honeymoon on Saturn, and you would never believe who we ran into there: it was Ulysses Simpson Grant himself! He was a fairly nice man, but had some anger problems that came and went. Not to mention, his taste in music was terrible—now why couldn't he just head-bang to heavy metal like the rest of us? Well anyways, we figured as long as we were on Saturn, we might as well look at their whales and ride them back to Earth to declare war on Mexico…"

Finally, X just took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat, accepting the inevitable. This old coot was even worse than the baby. Speaking of which…

Red-X reached towards his feet and pulled the heavy backpack up to his lap with ease and opened it up, just to check on how the baby was doing. And sure enough, there it was, still sleeping away without a care in the world, making light breathing noises as he slept securely in his innocent dreamland.

X gazed at the little egg for a good long while. It helped distract him from the yammering old lady beside him—who still couldn't tell that he wasn't paying any attention to her. This egg…it was just so innocent—so pure. How long had it been since X had seen anyone like this? A creature wanting to bring nothing but pure joy to everyone around it. When he got right down to it, was this really something worth hating? Shouldn't he give it another chance before discarding it? So it may have urinated and upchucked all over him, big deal. This thing…it was just too innocent to stay mad at.

It would be a while before the bus made it all the way to Jump, so that would mean more time to appreciate this little egg. Maybe it was about time to finally call it his son.

Red-X smiled warmly at his sleeping son snuggled warmly in the backpack on his lap, watching as it let out a baby-yawn and then return to sleep.

***

Finally, the bus arrived at Jump City, and X and his son were back home. There was an old baby-crib X had pulled down from the attic and put in the living room. As for X himself, he was in the rocking chair in front of the TV, cradling the baby, snugly wrapped up in a blanket, in his arms resting on his lap.

Okay, so he'd softened up to the thing—no one had to know. But why wouldn't he soften up to it eventually? There was no good reason to hate it.

He continued to hold his loving gaze at the sleeping egg.

"You know something, kid?" X started, making sure to keep a hushed tone so he wouldn't wake him, "You're actually pretty cute when you're not pissing everywhere."

Soon enough, X himself was starting to drift off into sleep. That is, until he heard footsteps approach the front door, followed by a hostile voice he'd hoped he wouldn't hear from until the month's end.

"The hell is this?!" The voice shouted at the red-haired boy holding the egg in his lap.

This was Red-X's father, Marcus Lancaster.

Standing just four inches higher than his son and having a mess of poorly gelled back blonde hair, this man was his son's worst nightmare. Especially on nights like this when he was thirsty on a hostile level for a beer. He wasn't the most well-built person ever, in fact he was a bit lanky for a man his age, save for the pot-belly as a result from all his drinking. But despite all these qualities, he was by far the greatest fear-inflicting man X had ever seen in his life.

He was once a very kind and loving man, but that person died on the same day their family did. Even so, that was the man Red-X tried to see him as, rather than this heartless monster.

Red-X's eyes shot open in fear the instant he heard his father's voice, and to further exploit his horror, he looked over towards the front door and saw the antagonizing man standing before him. And he looked awfully angry and seemed even more threatening with that scent of liquor on his breath.

"Is this what they're teaching you at school now?! How to be a fricking pansy?!"

Red-X hated to see his dad like this. He feared for his life for what was sure to come.

"D—Dad!" he weakly stammered out, "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be out of town for the rest of the month!" the fear in his voice was easily detected from a mile away. X was different around his father; he wasn't his usual cool and collected self, but broken down to lowest level of fear and cowardice known to man.

"I came back for the rest of the beer, but instead I find my faggot son with…what the hell is that?!"

X rose from his chair and carefully placed the egg baby in the crib beside him.

"It's a project we have to do at school to see if we're good parents—"

"And what's that supposed to mean?!" his dad harshly interrupted, "Are you trying to say I'm a bad parent?!"

Red-X felt the inevitable coming closer and closer. He knew what was about to happen.

"No, Dad, that's not what I meant—" he desperately pleaded for his dad to listen, but then it happened. The one thing X feared most of all when he was around his dad.

He hit him.

Hard, right across his right cheek, X's dad had struck him with all the strength a back-knuckle slap from his right arm could deliver. On someone as battle-hardened as X, it didn't hurt as much as his father he'd hoped it would, but it knocked him off of his feet and onto his rear nonetheless. And those teary, heart-broken eyes from his son were all the comfort he needed to make sure he was still in power.

"Shut up! Don't you dare talk back to me like that!" he violently screamed down at his son, while kicking him hard in the chest to keep him down on the floor. He wanted him to feel lower than the dirt itself, and he would continue to beat him until he reached that point—six feet under if he had to.

"Dad, I'm sorry—" Red-X tried to get out, tears now mildly falling from his eyes, but a fist struck him across the other cheek, keeping him down at floor-level.

Before X could catch his breath, his abusive father had wrapped his ten fingers around his son's throat, shaking him violently.

"What did I just say?! Don't you ever talk back to me! Ever!"

Despite the impossible situation he found himself in, X could escape with no effort at all. He could snap both of his dad's elbows out of alignment with no effort at all. Or he could break each and every one of his ribs with just a quick flex of his knees…

"And don't you ever think about standing up to me, you little punk!"

…Permanently blind him by plucking those nasty, hate-filled eyes using only his two fingers. Or maybe he'd snap that scraggly neck of his, and savor the sound of his last breaths. He didn't need that xenothium powered suit; he was perfectly capable of disabling, or even killing this man on top of him using only his natural abilities…

"You're nothing! You hear me?! Nothing!"

…But he didn't want to. Even though the feeling wasn't mutual, Red-X loved his father and wouldn't ever dream of harming him, no matter how hard he was beaten by him. His body could take it. But despite his physical strength, being beaten around by the one person you love most would be enough to crush anybody's spirits beyond repair, and Red-X was no exception. There was more to the unstoppable thief than he let on—he was just like anybody else underneath that mask; he both feared and loved, and he even bled.

Finally, his father seemed to calm down enough to the point that he let go of his throat. But it wasn't because he was feeling merciful; it was he really wanted that beer. His dad left his broken son to writhe on the floor next to the crib and walked into the kitchen and left with a six-pack of beer in his hands. Before leaving, he took one good look at his pathetic excuse of a son, still lying on the floor.

"And get rid of that damn egg. I'll be back next month—don't let me catch you doing something like this ever again."

And with that, the abusive monster left the house, closing the front door behind him.

As for Red-X, he was starting to cry now. This was something he wouldn't be caught dead doing around anyone else, but he couldn't hold it in any longer. Reduced to nothing more than a crying child, X sat upright, knees tucked in, and let the river of tears pour out into his arms, resting on his knees.

He wasn't the strong super-thief, Red-X, anymore. Now he was returned to being that sad child, Zeke, again. He sincerely hated being him. Zeke was the weak victim of years and years of neglect and child abuse. Who in their right mind would ever want to be him?

Little Brion had heard his father's crying and stirred around in his bead for a little bit and then tried to sit up—something hard to do when you have no limbs. Trying to show his concern for his father, he made little, unintelligible baby noises from his mouth, attempting to get his attention.

What's wrong, Daddy? Why are you crying?, he tried to say, but couldn't all because he didn't know how to speak yet.

Zeke heard his son's baby noises and turned his head around to see him looking at him through the bars on the crib, a deep and innocent look of concern on his face.

Having no one else to comfort him, Zeke pulled the baby out of its bed and held it close. He desperately needed someone to be there for him, and this little egg was all he had.

Little Brion tried to hug back, but that was physically impossible for him. So, still oblivious to the situation, he remained held close to his father's chest, arms wrapped around him and the heart-breaking sound of his tears filling the room.

Please, Daddy, stop crying. Please be happy again.

Soon enough, Little Brion was becoming stricken with sorrow too, feeling useless to help his father. He didn't want to be a burden; he just wanted to help, but knew he was unable to.

Father and son stayed bawling in the other's arms before Zeke's phone started ringing. Now wasn't the time to cry; he had to pull himself back together and become Red-X once again.

He set the baby gently down before him and pulled the phone out of his pocket. He looked at the caller ID and instantly recognized it as Terra's. Flipping the phone open, "St. Jimmy" came to an abrupt halt and the conversation began. He started out weak, not entirely recovered from being Zeke, but caught himself soon enough, reverting back to X.

"Hel—hello?" he asked into the phone.

"Hey, X, it's Terra. I was calling to let you know that I'm on my way over to pick up the baby, since I know you didn't want anything to do with it in the first place. I guess it was pointless to try and make you bond to him."

But X, or Zeke pretending to be X (he still hadn't completely recovered) didn't want to part with the baby; after all, it was the closest thing to human kindness he'd experienced since he was a child—and he needed it now more than ever. So, sucking up his pride, he asked her what he never thought he would.

"Um, Terra…" this was an especially hard thing to ask her, but he finally managed to get it through, "…can I spend one more day with the baby?"

This came as sort of a shock to Terra; did X just ask to spend more time with the baby? What's more, did he just call it a baby? So it seemed as though they had bonded after all. A small, warm smile came across Terra's face from the sudden news.

"Well, I was going to take him out to the park and maybe the mall tomorrow—would you like to come too?" she offered him.

This was the closest X would get to seeing his request fulfilled, so he decided to just accept the offer and be content with what he had.

"Uh…sure. So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yup. I'll stop by your place at nine?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Alright then, it's a date."

And Terra hung up on the other end after that.

…

…

WAIT, DID HE JUST AGREE TO GO ON A "DATE" WITH TERRA!?!?!?!

***

A jaw-shattering punch soared through the air and made its target: right in the jaw of the decayed, muscular, zombie. Solomon Grundy was sent hurtling back from the blow to the jaw and crashed hard through the wall of the Daily Planet, plummeting into the streets below. Naturally, he survived the impending crash onto the asphalt many stories below, but it still hurt pretty badly.

Flying out of the wreckage from whence Grundy was kicked out of was the muscular figure of the man who'd sent him to the ground. Short black hair blew mildly in the wind as his large red cape flew in the current behind him. A decorated "S" figure marking his chest, he was an idol known all throughout the civilized world. Loved by the do-gooders, and feared by the villainous scum. This was none other than Superman himself.

The man of steel reached into his ear and spoke into the communicator he and the rest of the League was issued, that he might send a message through.

"Geo-Force, it looks like you're going to have your hands full down there. I'd stick around, but I'm a little busy up—"

A pale white hand tugged at Superman's hair and tossed him into a nearby reception desk. Given that the Daily Planet was full of desks and computers, it would be hard not to land on one.

"You am doomed, Superman! Bizzaro am stronger!" the deathly pale doppelganger of the man of steel boldly declared, butchering the proud English language in the process.

Superman stood back up and flew fast at his "clone", landing two solid punches to his face.

Down in the streets below, a well-built, strawberry-blonde-haired man, guised in his signature gold and brown uniform, had his hands full fighting off the other Legion of Doom members all on his own. Martian Manhunter was out cold and "Supes" was still occupied with Bizzaro and Luthor up top, leaving Geo-Force to fend for himself. Ah well, it's not like these guys were much of a challenge.

With a quick wave of his hand, the Markovian warrior sent a slab of earth hurtling into the villainous Copperhead, knocking him off his feet and out cold.

The earth on which he stood warning him of another impending threat, Geo-Force sharply turned around in time to avoid a boxing-glove attached to a coil coming from a gun carried by the Joker. Dodging the childish gun, he countered with a bone-crunching punch to the insane clown's face, sending him flying off the ground, down the street and hard into the broadside of a news-vehicle.

The earth-bound warrior took a moment to catch his breath; the Joker and Copperhead weren't the ones he was tired of fighting, but it was Gorilla Grodd and Sinestro who'd worn him out just earlier.

Interrupting his momentary break was the ringing of his Justice League communicator. He reached into it and flipped it open, expecting to see someone like Green Arrow or Red Tornado requesting help downtown, but instead he saw the face belonging to a teenaged cyborg—a friend of his sister's.

"Hello?" he asked into the communicator, awaiting a response.

"Hey, Geo-Force! Just thought I'd call and say congratulations!" Cyborg answered back.

"Do you know what time it is over here in Metropolis? And shouldn't it also be late in California—hold on a minute, what do you mean "congratulations"?"

"You mean Terra hasn't told you yet?"

The Joker, back on his feet now, snuck up on Geo-Force, preparing to bring an outrageously large sledgehammer down on his skull…but with a careless twitch of his fingers, Brion had sent two large chunks of earth to "sandwich" the clown where he stood, instantly knocking him out cold.

"Hasn't told me what?" Brion asked back, concern starting to grow within him.

"Dude! You're a freaking uncle now! Terra named her kid after you and everything!"

Brion Markov's eyes popped open from the sudden shock, and the communicator slipped out of his fingers and onto the hard pavement by his feet, shattering into pieces.

How could this have happened?! How could his little sister have a child at this age?! And who was the father…?!

Beast Boy.

Who else could've done this to his sister?

***

"Geo? Geo-Force?" Cyborg called into the communicator from his seat at the bar in the tower's kitchen, but only received static as a response.

"Uh-oh." he said out loud.

"What?" Robin asked from the fridge, looking for a midnight snack.

"Do you think Brion will figure out I was only kidding and was just talking about that egg baby?"

Robin just nonchalantly shrugged, pulling out a half-empty box of pizza from the fridge and taking a seat beside his friend.

"Brion's a smart guy. He'll figure it out before something bad happens."

Reassured that he hadn't set forth a series of hazardous events from a simple prank-call, Cy calmed down a bit, joining his friend in the devouring of the pizza before them.

Everyone could rest now, knowing that Brion hadn't come to the wrong conclusion and that all was peaceful once again…

NOT!

***

Back in downtown Metropolis, Brion Markov, still stunned from the horrible, shocking news of what fate befell his sister, closed his eyes and clenched his fists and teeth, trying to soothe out the extreme anger he was feeling at the moment. Beast Boy had gotten his little sister pregnant, and they now had a son. He would pay dearly for this despicable act.

"I swear this, no matter how long it will take, now matter what I must sacrifice to do regain my sister's stolen honor…"

Geo-Force, unable to hold in the rage and thoughts of vengeance swelling up within, let out an ear-shattering cry that literally made the earth tremble beneath his feet, and could be heard from the vast reaches of space.

"I'M GONNA KILL THAT GREEN PUNK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I can't say that I'm happy with the way Red-X is turning out. I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong--maybe it's that I gave him a secret identity that contradicts with his character or that I gave him a secret identity at all--but it feels like I'm doing something wrong. Some feedback on the subject would be greatly appreciated. Red-X is one of my favorite characters, and the last thing I would ever want to do would be to put him out of character.

Wait, I'm not done just yet (yes, you have the unfortunate fate of having to listen to me talk a little longer, so deal with it)! I would like to sincerely thank Red Phoenix Star for granting me permission to use her idea of Cyborg prank-calling Brion about the egg baby. Yes, that was her idea, and I am very grateful that she let me use it. So thanks, Red Phoenix Star, for letting me use your awesome idea (and don't worry; I'm not done with Geo-Force just yet D)! You have no idea how grateful I am for this.