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It's Too Darned Hot

By Arlene

Robin the Boy Wonder (oh, how he hated that moniker!) stalked into the Justice Cave, mumbling under his breath. " . . . I swear, if that Dick says, 'It's not the heat, it's the humidity' one more time, I'll . . ."

He pointedly ignored his teammates as they didn't notice his almost silent entrance. Impulse was playing a video game, Superboy was watching a rerun of "Wendy, the Werewolf Stalker," and the girls were . . . doing whatever girls did whenever they got together. Whatever it was, it included giggling. The unacknowledged vigilante continued his grumbling as he made his way to the locker room. " . . . they probably wouldn't even notice if a bomb went off in the wardroom . . ." Grim and grumpy wouldn't even come close to describing his disposition this afternoon. Hot weather and bullet-proof armor didn't mix well.

Despite the stifling heat wave that struck the eastern half of the country, Tim decided to show up for the meeting, seeing as he was the supposed leader and all. Also, the inside of the 'Cave would be markedly cooler than Brentwood. Besides, if he didn't make it, he'd never hear the end of it from the Kid.

He stripped off his sweat-soaked uniform and immediately jumped into the shower room, turning the cold water on full blast. Although kevlar was much appreciated during shoot-outs and other dangerous past times, it was hardly useful on hot summer days such as this one. 'Broiled Robin on a half shell,' he snorted to himself. Maybe the short pants weren't so bad after all. Feeling cooler and less sticky, he turned off the water and toweled himself off. Eschewing his damp uniform for a tank top sporting the Bat emblem and pair of shorts, he went back out in a much better frame of mind. Checking his watch, he saw that he still had ten minutes until the meeting was officially to start.

While the others were still absorbed in their own activities, he passed unnoticed into the kitchen and grabbed a can of Zesti out of the refrigerator. He turned on the radio and tuning it to a news station, he sat back and sipped at his cold drink. He listened idly as the weather report discussed the record-breaking heat, which was unusual even for this time of year. He paid closer attention when incidents of heat strokes were reported and that in some states, blackouts were occurring because of all the many air conditioners being used at the same time. If the increased electricity usage continued, President Luthor would declare a State of Emergency in the parts of the country involved in the power crisis.

Tim pondered this bit of information. 'Okay, maybe I'm being paranoid here (gee, ya think?), but what if someone was actually *causing* this heat? I mean, we know some people who can control the weather, so what would they gain . . . ?' At least he would have some new business to discuss. Bringing his unfinished drink, he went to the conference room and took his seat. He called the meeting to order. Or tried to. The rest of Young Justice were still preoccupied.

"Hey! Guys! C'mon, let's start already!"

Five heads snapped up at the command and stared at Robin. Then they looked at each other. When did he get in?

***

Officer Grayson was having a rather bad day. On what was supposed to be his day off, he had been called to fill in for another officer who had gotten "sick" during a stakeout. This very same officer and his partner were on the take (not yet proven, of course) and probably decided that they'd prefer a cold beer in an even cooler bar instead of sitting in a car, in the sun, in over a hundred degree weather. Thus, Grayson and *his* partner were lucky enough to be next on the list. On what kind of list, he could only guess. At least he didn't have to wear his uniform, either one of them.

And sitting next to an ill-tempered senior officer was no picnic. After all, it was supposed to be her day off, too. They were both hot and miserable and bored. The ice in the drinks they had brought along had long since melted, and the drinks themselves had become tepid. Added to this was the way their backs and legs kept sticking to the vinyl seats of the car. Dick shifted a bit in his seat, his shirt making a peeling sound as it pulled away from the backrest. He stated his situation succinctly in two words. "This sucks."

Sgt. Amy Rohrbach grunted in agreement. "Sucks, blows, bites, stinks."

The oppressive heat was making them listless and drowsy. Neither made any other attempts at conversation. At this point, they couldn't care less if the suspect made a run for it. Running the car's A/C would've been an option, if they'd been assigned a car with A/C. Of course, the higher ups either didn't consider this or didn't care. Probably both.

Dick's thoughts wandered. He considered dousing himself with his drink, but without the ice, he'd be wet *and* hot. What kind of an idiot would be out here in broad daylight, anyway? Um, voluntarily. If the suspect was stupid enough to run, let him. He'd fry anyway. Dick's head slowly fell forward, and he jerked himself upright. Gotta stay awake. The heat was sucking the energy out of him, and he knew that he wasn't as alert as he should be. He took a quick peek at his partner, hoping that she hadn't caught his little slip. Luckily, she hadn't. She was still staring at the building's entrance, one arm propped on the door's open windowsill, the other fanning her face with a take-out menu. He saw that her eyes were half open, and figured that she wasn't too awake herself.

Why'd it have to be so hot? And today, of all days? It hadn't been this hot since . . . Hey, hadn't the Flash dealt with a guy who could control the weather? What was his name? Weather Wizard? He snorted at the dorky name. The sudden sound startled Amy into wakefulness, and she raised an eyebrow in his direction.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, so, how 'bout them Knights?"

***

In an air-conditioned office, Bruce Wayne sat staring at a financial report on his desk. He had finished it a long time ago, but didn't bother telling Lucius, as it would only earn him yet another report. He had already taken steps to move a few assets to increase the company's earnings for the next quarter, but again, he failed to notify the CFO of WayneCorp, since "Brucie" wasn't supposed to be able to know how to do that sort of thing.

Instead, he'd turned his attention to the current situation. Listening to a news station, he'd heard about the heat-related deaths and although he pitied the people and their loved ones, this was one of those rare instances where he didn't feel responsible for the lives lost. He'd also heard the statement made by Luthor (Bruce was still too disgusted to give the man his official title) about the possible State of Emergency.

Just for fun, the Batman side of him wondered what could be causing the heat wave, who could cause it, and if he could stop it. He turned to his computer, and typing a few commands, accessed data from NASA's weather satellite on one side of the screen while checking for all known criminals with the ability to pull off such a feat on the other side. Most of the candidates were out of the country, some were dead, but one seemed the most likely: the Weather Wizard. He dove into Central City PD's files.

The Weather Wizard, aka Mark Mardon, had served his time and was going to be released tomorrow. Although the Mardon had never worked on such a grand scale as half a country before, Batman was sure that it was possible. Also, being in prison while the heat wave began made the perfect alibi. Batman knew from personal experience that criminals with the right connections could still operate behind bars.

Perhaps a visit to the mid-west would make a nice change of pace?

***

"Hey, Rob, when'dja get in?"

"Did you actually come in wearing *that*?"

"I think it looks good on him."

"CanIgohomenow?"

"You think *everything* looks good on him."

"Ladies! Please! There's plenty of me to go around!"

"Shut up! We were talking about Rob!"

"Uh, guys, about this heat, I was thinking--"

"Why'syourhairwet?"

"I can't believe the Bat actually let you go out in *that*!"

"Uh, my uniform's--"

"I think it looks good on him."

"You said that already."

"Oh. Sorry. Well, it does."

"I'm hungry. Anybody else hungry?"

"You know who would look *really* good in that?"

"You mean--?"

"Yeah!"

"You go, girlfriend!"

"Let's try to focus here. There's--"

"You're all talking about me, right? Cuz I'd look hot in anything."

"I'm thirsty. Anybody else thirsty?"

(Sigh.)

***

"Hey, man, whassup?"

"Hey, Wall."

"Don't sound so good, man."

"You try spending four hours in an oven and let's see how *you* sound."

"Whoa, sorry dude. You call to bite my head off?"

"Sorry, man, had a bad day. It's just this heat, and I had t'do a stakeout on my day off."

"S'awright, I hear ya, man. So . . .?"

"Oh yeah. Whassup with the Weather Wizard?"

"Marky boy? Uh, lessee . . . been a good boy and he's getting out . . . tomorrow? Yeah, tomorrow. Why?"

"I was just thinking with the heat wave an' all that . . ."

"Yeah, I get it. Didn't think about that. I mean, dude's been in the slammer."

"So, like, has that actually stopped anybody before?"

"Point taken. Ya think?"

"Mebbe."

"I'll say it again. So . . .?"

"Whaddya think 'bout given the Wiz a welcoming committee? Sort of a 'Get Outta Jail' welcome?"

"What if he's got nothin' to do with this? I mean, you're a cop. Isn't that harassment or sumthin'?"

"What? All I'm sayin' is see and be seen, make sure he's going straight, then we split. 'Sides, you owe me dinner, man."

"Do not. That's Roy, dude."

"Uh uh. Nothin' doin'. You ain't gettin' off so easy. Lessee, as I recall, that elephant--"

"Aw no, man! Not *that*! I mean, this is an unsecured line an' who knows who might be listening?"

"Ya mean you didn't tell Linda?! Ha! You idiot! When she finds out . . ."

"Shut up! Shut up! Okay, okay, dinner, whatever, fine. Tomorrow after Marky gets out. This is blackmail, man! That's illegal!"

"Ha! Look who's talking! What you did to that elephant must've been illegal in I don't know how many states. Definitely in Africa, though. Definitely."

"Aw, c'mon on, man! You promised not to say anything!"

"All right, okay, already. Be seein' ya, Fleet Feet."

"Aw, shut up, you Dick."

(Click.)

***

"Barbara."

"Bruce? You're calling during working hours? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to know the full capabilities of the Weather Wizard's wand. Would you send me the schematics?"

"Uh, sure. Do you think he might be responsible for the heat wave? I'll send them in a couple minutes. But you could've easily done that yourself. Is there something else you wanted?"

"Nothing else. I'm fine."

"Right. Who are you trying to fool? I know all and see all, remember?"

"I'm fine."

"Oh well, if you say you're fine, then you must be fine. I guess if there's *no other reason* for calling me, I'll just hang up right now, and I'll stop supposing that all's not well at Wayne Manor. After all, Alfred left it in capable hands, and if you say everything's fine, well then, everything must be fine. Okay, then. 'Bye, Bruce!"

"Barbara, wait!"

"I knew it. What is it?"

"Um, how do you, uh . . ."

"Spit it out, Bruce. We're both busy people."

"Uh, how do you keep toast from burning?"

"Is that all? Okay, there's this switch on the bottom of the toaster . . . "

***

Mark Mardon, the newly reformed Weather Wizard, was a happy man. He had patiently waited out his sentence, and with a lot of help from the prison's psychiatrist, had worked out his anger towards the Flash and the rest of the world. He finally realized that he was basically a good person who had made some bad choices in life, and armed with the proper attitude and hard work, he could be a happy and productive member of society.

Or so he let the shrink believe that's what he believed. In actuality, he had cooked up one honey of a plan and was eager to execute it (and the Flash) as soon as he found some new digs. Nobody would stop him this time. He thought over and over, 'Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, I'm free last!' He liked the way it sounded, and decided that after the next gig, he'd go straight and maybe go into speech writing.

As he entered the courtyard, he noticed the stifling heat, which slammed into him as he stepped away from the cooler prison house. Whew. Gotta be, what, hundred and ten, at least. Well, whatever the weather, he was glad to finally get out of that hole.

He approached the iron gate and waited as the guard opened the door. Stepping through the portal to join the rest of society, he then turned to face the guard. Using a hand sign that was universally recognized, Mark showed the guard what he thought of him. The guard likewise returned the gesture, adding a word along with it, and slammed the door in Mardon's face.

Ignoring the guard, he turned back to the road that led back to Central City. Just as he was about to take his first step, he heard a whirring noise, and an R-shaped shuriken struck the dirt where his foot would've landed. He jumped back, knowing that the little piece of metal could've easily sliced through his shoe. What the--?

As he was about to step around it, another piece of metal struck the dirt. This time, it was a disc with a weird black symbol in the metal. This one looked as if it could've easily sliced his foot off. He jumped back again, his back thumping against the now-closed iron door. He looked around wildly, trying to spot his attackers. No one. His hand shaking, he reached for the doorknob, desperately trying to open it. Locked!

This time, another piece of metal appeared and struck the wall next to him, embedding itself an inch away from his right ear. He failed hear the mumbled "Show off." He froze and slowly, oh so slowly, turned to look at it. A bat? His eyes widened as the significance hit him. The Flash was bad enough, b-but HIM? He froze again as a gravelly whisper reached him. "We know." Th-they knew about his plan? It's true! HE *can* read minds! He turned and frantically beat against the iron door. "Let me back in! Please! For the love of God, let me in! I promise I'll be good, I promise!"

Three shadowy figures and a bright red one discreetly left the area, leaving a blubbering man pleading to a door handle. The shortest one broke the silence first.

"Uh, so, what was that about an elephant?"

End