Authors Note: Hi, so this is my first story and despite the fact that none of the Young Justice characters have made an appearance... this is a Young Justice story. I'm new at this and still trying to figure out the formatting, by the way so if anyone has any tips for me, I would love to hear them. I guess if anyone likes the story I will continue to post chapters. If not... well I'll try something else :) Anyways, I'm planning on this to be a mix of a bit of mystery, adventure, drama and romance. Hopefully my OC will fit in well with the other characters :) I would love some constructive criticism and if you catch any mistakes please tell me! Oh and while I'm at it... what the heck is a Mary-Sue character? Apparently it's bad, so if someone could please explain the concept to me it would be much appreciated.

XOXO Noelle 3

Disclaimer: I won't pretend that I own Young Justice. I just don't. Remy, on the other hand, is my character.

Chapter One: Clandestine Meetings

Remy considered her options carefully as she watched this blonde hair, blue-eyed specimen. A swift uppercut to the jaw would knock him flat. A series of strategically placed and well-timed jabs to the body's pressure points would disable his motor skills. Even a simple left hook—provided it had enough force behind it—would do the trick.

Remy shook her head. You can't solve all your problems this way, her conscience reminded her.

Remy unclenched her fists and instead took a bite out of her apple. Chewing slowly, she looked across the quad at Star City High, longingly staring at Chase Daniels. She watched as he tossed a few pieces of hair from his forehead and laughed at something his friend Jared had said. From her vantage point—that is, under the old oak tree—she could see his arms flexing as he pointed towards the auditorium.

Remy sighed and speared some of her salad with a fork. She longed to be able to talk to Chase. Every time she passed him in the hallways, sat next to him in her Spanish Literature class, or even just saw him from afar, she longed to speak with him.

She could incapacitate an attacker three times her size, and yet she couldn't even talk to a guy. That was pure genius, Remy thought to herself.

Chase Daniels, in theory, was perfect. And in theory, Remy thought she was. It was, in fact, her over inflated ego—stemming from the fact that no one ever told her no —that she had created a problem. Remy remembered perfectly, the first day of junior year, she had seen Chase, decided he was hers and marched right up to him demanding a date.

Well, as most people would expect—not Remy of course—Chase had simply laughed at her and asked her who she was.

Hot anger and rage had boiled up inside of her and Remy had almost lost it. As he waited for her answer, she was mentally tabulating the most effective way to break his neck.

No one, she had answered out loud.

No one, she amended internally, says no to Remy Vanderbilt and lives.

A smug grin had flitted across his golden features and had—dammit—made her heart do a flip flop, despite the snub. Remy had just been about to beat the smugness out of him when the bell for first period rang.

Remy snapped out of that memory as she heard her name being called. "Hello Remy!" The nasal voice of her sometimes friend Jenna Clark grated against her ears. "The bell rang five minutes ago!" She shouted from across the quad. "You've been spacing!"

It was only then that she realized the quad was empty of everyone, save for herself, Jenna, and a few burnouts lighting up their cigarettes. Remy slid her unfinished food back into the brown paper sack and stood up, pushing her long, dark hair over her shoulder.

She was late for gym class.

Remy hated wasting time. Especially in gym class, a class that was about as useful as a tennis player with no racquet. More than that, she hated mediocrity. From the first day of school and on she had come to expect mediocrity. Especially in gym class, where hardly anyone could run a mile without stopping to walk. As she ran the mile at approximately an eight minute pace, she glanced at her watch. 1:36 pm, PST, it read. The temperature was 76 degrees, a perfectly normal day by anyone's standards.

Except that it wasn't a normal day. It never was. She had arranged to me meet with Travis at three, which meant that she would have to ditch seventh period and drive like a madwoman to the subway station on the east side of the city.

Worry about that later, Remy reminded herself as she focused back on the track. Jenna smiled encouragingly at her from the sidelines. Remy rolled her eyes and finished the mile, with the mediocre time of eight minutes and six seconds. Jenna cheered loudly—no obnoxiously—for no apparent reason other than to embarrass her.

"Awesome run, Bestie!" Jenna giggled, throwing her arms around Remy's neck.

Remy lightly pushed her off, though the smell of Jenna's lavender perfume still lingered on her gym clothes. Great, Remy thought, disgusted, just great. "What do you want Jenna?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, twirling her blonde hair around a finger. Jenna smiled coyly at Remy, and Remy stared back, waiting for Jenna to fess up. After all, the only reason Jenna was ever nice to someone—even Remy—was when she needed something. In fact, Jenna was the kind of person who would be your best friend a week and then run off with someone else because you wore mismatching socks.

So trivial, Remy sneered, narrowing her eyes at Jenna.

"Alright, alright," Jenna sighed, dropping the overly friendly smile. "I need a wing man for this guy Todd's party—"

"No." Remy turned from Jenna and began walking towards the locker room.

"I just figured since you have a car, but no life—" Jenna wheedled, keeping pace next to her friend.

"Insulting someone generally isn't a good way to get their help," Remy stated, her voice flat.

Jenna jumped in front of Remy and put her hands out in a stop gesture. Remy crossed her arms and sighed. "Please Remy," she whined, "I really like this guy!"

"You say that every single time you talk to one."

"This is different."

"You say that too," Remy snorted and pushed Jenna out of the way. Jenna huffed loudly and lagged behind Remy as she headed into the locker room.

Remy quickly began taking off her gym clothes and studiously folding them, piling them up in her locker. Jenna snapped open her locker and a multitude of lotions, body sprays and other feminine hygiene products came pouring out. She quickly dropped to her knees and started pushing them back into the small metal locker.

"We can have a girls day!" Jenna offered, as if that would sway Remy. "The party isn't until like nine pm on Saturday. We can spend the entire day just hanging out. Get our nails done, go shopping-"

"Not good enough," Remy informed her, sliding on her jeans and her sweatshirt. She reached around and tied her long tresses into a pony tail before spraying some perfume that smelled like honeysuckle.

"I'll throw in lunch at that Chinese restaurant you like," Jenna insisted.

"Nope, sorry Jenna." Remy finished tying her sneakers and shouldered her bag, stalking off towards the exit.

"I'll let you look at my Dad's case files!" Jenna threw out one last desperate attempt. The one she wasn't authorized to offer, but the one that Remy couldn't resist.

Remy stopped dead in her tracks and turned, smirking at Jenna. "I'll pick you up at 10:30 am, sharp Jenna. I won't sit in front of your house and let my car idle. Do not be late."

Remy glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time as she waited for Travis on the corner of 3rd and Watson. The meeting would go much as it always did. Travis would drive up in his old red junker, Remy would get in, and they'd drive to Travis' warehouse. Also known as his basement.

Travis Coolidge was a twenty six year old weapons dealer that still lived with his mother. Where he got his supplies, she had no idea. How Travis managed to keep his mother from finding out about his little business, also eluded her. Remy, however, didn't care too much as long as she got what she needed. Over the past few years, Travis had proved himself capable of getting anything and everything she needed.

It was out of a grudging respect that she tolerated his bullshit.

Remy remained attached to the street sign at 3rd and Watson for almost another hour. Travis had been the one to stress to her the importance of doing this on time, and yet he was a full hour late. Remy was in the middle of considering whether or not she could make it to Travis' house before dark or not when he finally drove up.

Remy slid in to the passenger seat, wordlessly kicking the fast food wrappers away from her feet. Travis's car always smelled like McDonalds, and for someone like Remy who never ate that crap, it was the car ride from hell.

"What took you so long?" Remy asked, glancing at the windows. Travis's car windows were practically brown. She looked at a small round spot on the window and decisively began cleaning it off with the sharp edge of her nail.

Travis coughed nervously and cleared his throat. Three times. "I thought I was being followed. I had to drive around until I lost them."

Remy stopped picking at the window and turned towards Travis. "And you still came and picked me up?" Remy slowly turned her head and glanced out the back window, looking for anyone that looked suspicious.

"I told you, I lost them," Travis sneered.

"Do you know what would happen if someone caught me buying military grade weapons from you?" Travis shrugged. "Do you?" Travis snorted at Remy's "harsh" tone of voice. "My ass would be grass and so would yours, dumbshit. We'd both go to prison, considering the fact that you're not licensed to sell those weapons."

"Look I know that alright," Travis said, gripping the steering wheel unnecessarily hard as he made a right turn to get onto the freeway ramp. "Just relax."

"Why are we going this way?" Remy demanded, looking back over her shoulder. "Your house is the other way."

"I've changed my meeting place," he said gruffly, signaling to get into the carpool lane. "Ma was getting a bit suspicious." Remy nodded and sat back, simply watching the cars that too, were driving by. She did, however, frequently look over her shoulder to check for any suspicious activity.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Travis, it was just… she didn't trust Travis. Remy didn't trust anyone for that matter. And of all the people on the planet, why would she trust Travis Coolidge? He was illegally selling weapons to minors—Remy herself—and a multitude of odd characters that probably would go on to become criminals.

Remy just chose to ignore the fact that she was the one buying weapons illegally. But if it came down to it, she would tell anyone else the same thing. Don't trust me. Remy was a firm believer in being self-sufficient. If you couldn't do something yourself, you should either learn how to do it or go without it.

Asking for help was a clear sign of weakness, and Remy would not show any weakness.

Remy shook herself from her thoughts. "This is it?" Travis had taken the Weston street exit and parked underneath the highway bridge. That left them in downtown Star City, a place that any sane person didn't want to be after dark.

Remy went to open her door just as Travis locked it. She turned abruptly in her seat and narrowed her eyes. "What is this, Travis?"

"Look, someone's been tailing me for the past few weeks," he admitted, nervously glancing in his rear view mirror. Remy had noticed him doing this every few seconds on the drive down. "I can't do business like I used to. That's why we're stopping here for now."

"Alright then. Let's talk business," Remy grunted. "What do you have for me?"

"Well I ordered the Mossberg four by four bolt action rifle, as per your personal request, but I really think you should've gone with the—"

"Did I ask for your opinion on my choice of firearms?" Travis remained silent. "Didn't think so. Continue."

"I also ordered a Cheytac Intevention .408 Caliber. A sniper rifle," he informed me.

"Well I didn't order that," Remy muttered. She had ordered the cheapest sniper rifle Travis could get and the price sat around eleven hundred dollars. She did not order a Cheytac, no matter how much she had drooled over it when she had glanced through Travis' catalogues. The low-end stuff would serve its purpose perfectly. "How much extra will that cost me?"

"Not too much," he said, offhandedly. He smiled a sickly little smile causing Remy to roll her eyes. "I got it pretty cheap."

"Alright, alright," Remy waved it off. To be honest, she didn't really care how much it cost. You couldn't put a price on quality after all. Of course, it also helped that she now had a financier to fund her little operations. "Go on."

"I ordered those exploding poker chips you wanted." The words seemed to roll off of Travis' tongue in a strange way, as if he weren't used to saying this. Which, most people weren't. "Also, the rest of your usual… toys."

"And the cane?" Remy raised her eyebrows.

"Completely adjustable, just unscrew the cap and there's your switchblade," Travis grinned.

Remy managed to contain her disgust at Travis' obvious passion for weapons. She didn't know anyone that would actually grin at the mention of a switchblade. At least she hadn't until she'd met Travis.

"Do you have paper and pen?" Remy asked.

"Yeah," he grunted, searching underneath the driver's side chair until he produced a pen and a candy wrapper.

Remy fixed Travis with a flat look and he shrugged. She sighed and proceeded to write down her contact's phone number. "Whatever I owe you, fax a receipt to this number and then destroy the fax machine. They'll send you a new one along with your payment."

Travis stared at her strangely and Remy, to her credit, didn't flinch under his mocking stare. "You've gotten some new funding? I thought—no wait, you know what? I don't want to know."

"Good choice." Remy nodded approvingly. "Now let's go."

"Uh-huh, this is your stop." Travis shook his head.

"What do you mean? I live uptown and we're in downtown," Remy reminded him.

"I know, but you can take care of yourself," Travis shrugged. "Besides I've got another client waiting. Take the two silver briefcases from the trunk and get out of here."

"You cannot be serious," Remy scoffed.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Travis gritted his teeth and pointedly locked and unlocked the door. "Now."

Remy groaned and pushed open the door as Travis popped the trunk. "Fine. Remember my instructions though. I'll come by your house later to make sure you've destroyed the fax machine."

"Creeper," he muttered underneath his breath.

"Keep calling me a creeper and you might wake up missing a few not exactly vital appendages." Remy walked to the back of Travis' car and picked out the only silver briefcases in the trunk.

Not a second after she slammed the trunk, Travis was already starting the engine. He revved it a few times before tearing off at top speed and managing to spray Remy with a fresh coat of dirt.

"Asshole!" Remy called, coughing as she waved the cloud of dust out of her face. As she watched Travis turn the corner, she sighed.

This was so not how she pictured herself spending a Friday night.