Survival
by Raiko Toho
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(This takes place during the prologue, pretty much right after Barbara gets her job at the Iceberg, before she meets Batman for the first time, and during the events narrated in "Old Wounds.")
Outtake: Cut-Off
So far, my job was okay-- I was getting the drinks out, but I needed to pick up the pace on busier days, and that would take some serious practice.
The door opened, and I looked up from the bar as a dark-haired man stumbled in.
"Gimme a beer," he slurred, sitting on, then falling off a stool.
"Um, I think you've had enough," I said cautiously.
"I said, gimme a beer!" He slapped a platinum credit card onto the counter.
I was saved from replying when my boss waddled over. "Is there a problem?" He caught sight of the card. "Ah, Mister Grayson! So nice to have you here in this fine establishment." Penguin leaned over the counter and whispered to me, "Get this young man whatever he asks for. And charge him a ten percent increase."
"Uh, yes sir," I said, sliding a Coors Light across the bar.
Grayson sat, drank, and mumbled under his breath; I eventually learned his name (Dick), his favorite beer (Sam Adams), and his opinion on Bruce Wayne (an effing bastard), among other random facts. Finally, he slumped down and stared into space-- not quite unconscious, probably closer to comatose than anything else.
Then, his phone started ringing-- a piercing shriek that had the other patrons glancing over in annoyance. Nervously, my eyes skimmed the Lounge, then I leaned over and fumbled in Dick's jacket, pulling out the offending gadget. As I was about to answer it, it fell silent, and I stared at the device.
Suddenly, it started up again, and I hastily flipped it open.
"Where. Are. You."
The voice on the other end was furious and icy.
"Um, hi," I cleared my throat. "Dick isn't available right now," I continued more confidently. "Can I take a message?"
"Who is this?"
"Just the friendly staff at your neighborhood Iceberg Bar and Lounge," I quipped.
There was silence, then a dial tone.
"Huh," I said, closing the phone and sticking it back into Dick's pocket.
Ten minutes later, Bruce Wayne pulled up, collected a very smashed ward, and left.
On the plus side, I got a huge tip.
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(This one's from part one.)
Outtake: Flash the Stripper
Apparently, Superman had recruited the Justice League, the newly-formed Teen Titans, and various freelance heroes to irritate my roommate into submission. Wonder Woman had dropped by, saying something about how Kara had developed into a worthy young superhero, and was quickly followed by a letter from Steel and a parcel of tofu cookies from Beast Boy.
Coming back from the Iceberg, I sighed as I found yet another package on the doorstep. "Kara!" I called without bothering to check the label. She stuck her head out, and I gestured to the large box. She glanced at it, then narrowed her eyes and studied it closely.
"What?" I asked. Usually, she didn't hesitate before throwing her mail into the trash, unless it was from college. This definitely wasn't.
"There's… a person inside this box," Kara said slowly.
"Is it a stripper?" I joked.
"No, it's…" she squinted. "It's the Flash."
"That's almost as good," I deadpanned.
Kara stared at me, then burst out laughing.
(The "stripper in a box thing" is a fairly common joke among my crazy group of friends. "I'm not signing for that package!")
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(Also during part one.)
Outtake: Leave a Message
The phone rang, and I stared at it in apprehension.
"To answer or not to answer," I mused. If it was a hero, I would be fine with letting it ring off the hook-- they had been bothering me and Kara for way too long. However, if it was a rogue, they would be seriously pissed if they needed me for a job and I didn't answer. With a sigh, I hit the speaker button.
"Redmond residence."
"Hi, is, um, Kara there?" a voice asked.
"May I ask who's calling?"
"Donna Troy."
The name sounded vaguely familiar, and I recalled a newscast about Wonder Girl, a new superheroine with her Justice League counterpart's lasso and bracelets.
"Sorry, she's not interested."
"Okay, thanks." It sounded like she had expected this response. I sighed in relief as I heard a dial tone-- most of the other heroes were a lot more tenacious about talking to Kara.
The phone rang again, and I jabbed the button with more force than necessary. "What!"
"Now, Barbie, didn't your parents teach you any manners?"
I scowled. This was one rogue I wouldn't mind ignoring. "What do you want, Joker?"
"Perhaps you know where in the world my little jester skipped off to," he grinned; I could tell, even through the phone.
"No," I said shortly.
"Oh dear," the clown pronounced dramatically. "I suppose I shall have to go on--"
"Whatever," I said, hanging up. Not the smartest move, but I wasn't in the mood to hear the Joker ranting on in my ear.
There was a shrill ring, and I sighed as I answered the phone yet again. "Hello?"
"Barb, it's Ivy. Could you take care of the greenhouse? I've got a bit of an… emergency on my hands." The woman sounded distracted and slightly panicked.
"On my way," I said, grabbing my keys. Now I was glad I hadn't unplugged the handset-- too bad only one out of three phone messages was worth listening to. I have got to figure out a way to screen my calls.
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"Hi, you've reached Barb's phone. If this is an emergency, and don't you dare abuse this feature, press one. If you are Harvey, press twenty-two. If you are Ivy, press three. If you are from or representing Gotham State University, press forty-two. If you are Eddie, press the first palindromic Fibonacci number . If you are Jervis, press six. If you are looking for Kara, justice is a seven-letter word. If you are Harley, press eight. If you are Selina, press nine. If you are Penguin, press pound. If you are Joker, press END. If you are not on this list, press zero. To repeat this message, press star." The answering machine beeped once and fell silent.
"What's this?" Kara asked, amused.
"It's my new system," I informed her. "Since I can't use caller ID-- you know, most of the capes and rogues have untraceable numbers-- I'm screening my calls with the machine. That way, when they get forwarded to my cell, I know who's calling, and the people who are looking for you get redirected to your phone."
"My phone?"
I handed her the slim black cell I had bought earlier.
"Cool."
"Yeah. And anyone who presses seven will be put on hold until you decide you want to talk to them."
Kara grinned. "So what if I want to call you?"
"There are two phones in the world that know my cell number," I said seriously. "One is the house phone. The other is yours."
(Numbers: Twenty-two should be fairly obvious. Ivy is three-- like "leaves of three, leave them be." Forty-two is the answer to life, the universe, and everything-- from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The first palindromic Fibonacci number is 55. Six is the denominator of the Mad Hatter fraction thing in the hat. Justice has seven letters and the Justice League has seven members. Coincidence? Eight, like "Crazy Eights" is from issue 45 of The Batman Strikes!, as is nine for nine lives. And "pound" is a reference to Penguin's… weight-challenged-ness.)
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(Part two, when Barbara leaves after Kara wakes up.)
Outtake: Warning Signs
I huffed in frustration as I came upon yet another locked door.
"Stupid Watchtower," I growled, banging ineffectively on the reinforced metal. "No maps, no signs, no anything! What to you have to do to find something around here?" I gave the door one last whack before sighing and starting back down the corridor.
I tried each door as a reflex more than anything else, since they would most likely be locked. Every single other door I had tried was, why should these be any different?
It was a surprise when, just as I stepped up to it, one door slid open with the characteristic pneumatic hiss of the Watchtower. In a corner of my brain, I wondered what these people had against doorknobs, before my attention snapped to the equally startled blonde man I was face to face with in the doorway. He was wearing a towel, and not much else.
He blinked for a second, then smiled suavely. "New hero? Not much of a uniform."
I glanced down at my comfortable jeans and the hooded sweatshirt with the Bat logo-- worn to annoy Batman-- then back up at the man. "I could say the same to you."
"Touché," he grinned. "I'm Green Arrow."
"Barb," I returned. "Is this the bathroom?"
"Down the hall and to the right," he directed.
I waited until the door hissed shut before breaking out in giggles. Apparently, Green Arrow showers with his mask on.
(Not exactly sure where this came from, but I think it was from a funny post on someone's LiveJournal.)
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