• Published 21st Jan 2015
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MLDC Next Generation: Teen Titans - Michael_Ravencroft



When evil seeks to plunge the world into darkness, eight young heroes will band together to stop it!

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Secret Origins Part 6: Let loose the Arrow

Fletcher watched as the plane came in for a landing. It had been a long time since he had visited Matropolis, and even longer since he had seen his childhood friend. It was strange, when his parents first introduced him to the girl, Crème de la Crème, he didn’t think much of her, and she was a little ditzy. ‘Course she was five years older than him, meeting her when he was six years old and Crème was eleven. But the two of them quickly became friends, growing close like a big sister and little brother.

She was even there when he won his gold medal for the Olympic Archery Competition at the young age of fourteen. Now he was heading back to visit his surrogate big sister, bringing with him a present for her. You see, tonight was Crème’s birthday. Fletcher had sent a message saying he’d be coming to visit days after her birthday, but in reality he was coming to surprise her. They didn’t get to spend much time together with his father’s military work for the Norwegian government’s R&D department and his mother’s work in at the British Embassy, but this time was going to be different. Along with the physical present, he was allowed to stay a while state side.

The fifteen-year-old boy disembarked from the plane, heading towards baggage claim. Once there, he found what he was looking for, a long black suitcase. Of course he got some odd looks from the other people there, a young boy carrying something that looked big enough to carry a rifle didn’t exactly inspire trust. Actually one of the security officers asked to look inside it. Fletcher wasn’t offended, he knew they had reason to worry, the safety of the other people was their concern and he happily complied. He set the suitcase on the ground and clicked open the latches.

Inside was a large object, Fletcher grabbed what looked like a handle and took it out. He then pressed a button on the side of the handle, making two curved bars snap into position. The handle was black, but the curved bars were a dark grass green.

“As you can see Officer, it’s just a bow,” said Fletcher.

“Oh…well sorry for the inconvenience.”

“No trouble at all.”

FANCY MANOR…

The sun shined brightly through Crème’s window. The rays traveled along the bed and hit her in the face, stirring her from her sleep. She groaned slightly, sitting up from her bed as she lazily wiped the sleep from her eyes. Crème swung her long legs out of her bed, her purple nightgown flowing side to side as she walked over to her closet. She took out a robe and put it on, noting what time it was, Crème headed out her bedroom door. As she made her way through the long halls of her family mansion, the various maids and butlers each politely bowed to Crème and wishing her a happy birthday. As Crème reached the dining room she stopped, hearing her father and mother talking inside.

“Fancy, are you sure we shouldn’t take this seriously?” Fleur asked.

“We can’t just bow our heads to riffraff gangsters like them! These sorts already instill fear in those less fortunate, we can’t simply back down, if we fall, then what’s to keep the others who are standing up from doing the same?”

“Fancy, I know what you’re saying, I really do, but…”

“Love, I understand, I want don’t you or Crème put in danger. Tell you what, after Crème’s party I’ll have you two take a trip to visit Quiver and Britannia up in Norway, they haven’t seen either of you in a long time and more importantly, you’ll be safer with them.”

Crème slumped up against the wall as she listened, despite being known was an airhead and a ditz, she wasn’t oblivious to other peoples’ troubles, nor the ones going on with her own family. Fancy Industries was big a corporation, they had a hand in almost every facet of business, fashion, tech, cosmetics, almost anything and everything, their biggest rival being that of Blue Blood Corp. Crème’s parents were known for being generous to the less fortunate and sponsoring many different programs that rubbed some very bad people the wrong way.

Her father and mother had more than once tried to hide the fact that they had been getting threats, but Crème could tell, she could read another person fairly well, and her parents were no exception, still, she knew that the last thing they needed was for their only daughter to be worrying along with them.

“Mother, Father, good morning!” Crème greeted as she entered the dining room.

Fleur de Lis got up from her seat and walked over to give her daughter a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. Crème sashayed up behind her father and kissed the broad man on the cheek before sitting down at her seat.

“Morning my dear Crème, and how are you this fine morning, birthday girl?!” Fancypants asked.

“Great, just great!”

“Well we should hope so, you’re turning twenty-one, a very important age for a young lady! Your party tonight will be smashing,” said Fleur.

The butlers entered with their breakfast, setting it on the table and bowing as they exited, only one maid and one butler stayed behind to get them refills on beverages. Crème knew she didn’t need to worry them, so she did her best to put a smile on their faces, if for nothing else than to help them forget their troubles for a few minutes out of the day. Crème tried not to let this get her down as well, after all, it was her birthday, what could possibly go wrong?

“Oh, that reminds me, a present arrived for you from Norway earlier today, dear.”

Crème looked at her father with excitement. “Oh, was it from Fletcher?!”

A sly smile formed on Fleur’s lips. “In a manner of speaking.”

Fleur gestured to the maid and butler, both of which made their way to the other end of the dining room. The maid and butler took their positions on either side of the door and slowly opened it. Crème watched with confusion, but her confusion didn’t last long when she saw who it was standing behind the door. Fletcher smiled at the young woman, giving a gentlemanly bow to Crème as he entered the dining room. Crème was ecstatic to see Fletcher, her surrogate little brother. She hopped out of her seat and rushed to the young man.

“Hallo, Crème,” greeted Fletcher.

“Fletcher, it’s good to see you!”

Crème reached out and brought Fletcher into a close hug. Given the height difference between them, Fletcher, depending on your point of view, unfortunately was brought right smack dab between her cleavage, her robe opening just a tad to allow a glimpse at what was hidden underneath. Fletcher’s face went bright red as he tried to keep his gaze focused on anything else, or shutting them. But it did nothing to negate the feeling around his face. Poor Fletcher was caught between not wanting to ruin the moment for Crème and trying not to be a perv, oblivious as Crème was to the situation. Fancypants and Fleur meanwhile were chuckling like madmen at the sight of Fletcher suffering so.

“Now-Now, Love, if you hug young Fletcher any tighter he’ll suffocate,” said Fancypants.

“Or die of blood loss,” added Fleur with a wink.

LATER THAT NIGHT…

The sound of music could be heard playing downstairs, violins, cellos, a piano, and a woodwind or two, all adding to the beautiful atmosphere of Crème’s birthday party. Fletcher had mingled with the guests for a bit, somehow gathering a following of girls, but for some reason couldn’t find the birthday girl. Curious, Fletcher excused himself and went in search of Crème. He didn’t have to go far, finding the girl of honor standing at the guardrail, overlooking her party with a somewhat sullen look on her face. Fletcher carefully walked to her, making sure his presence was known so as to not startle her.

“Hey Crème.”

“Oh…Hey Fletcher…”

“For a girl celebrating her birthday party, you look rather dower.”

Crème glanced to Fletcher, conflicted as to whether or not to place her worries on him. Even though they were like family, she still didn’t want to burden him with the things she had heard her parents discussing. So she put a smile and hooked her right arm with his left.

“Guess I’m just lamenting the fact that I’m not a teenager anymore,” said Crème.

“Doesn’t seem to stop you from acting like one,” commented Fletcher.

Crème puffed her cheeks in indignation. “Are you saying I’m not a mature young woman?!”

“Refined? Yes. Graceful? Very. Maturity though…well…” Fletcher trailed off, letting it hang in the air.

Crème playfully swatted Fletcher on his arm with mock anger. “Fletcher, now that’s not nice! Especially on my own birthday!”

In the end, they just chuckled at their little back and forth, with Crème hugging Fletcher’s arm tighter.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, shall we attend your party?” Fletcher asked.

“Let’s!”

Fletcher led Crème down the long staircase, all eyes trained on the duo as they descended. Fletcher led Crème to a group of her friends, letting her assimilate into the conversation before quietly slipping away to the refreshment table and sampling some of the foods. A few minutes passed by with little to nothing out of the ordinary happening, the occasional guy hitting on Crème, the occasional girl hitting on Fletcher, the party guests all laughing, toasting, and generally having a good time.

Fletcher excused himself from some of the party guests that had crowded him, taking a break from the festivities as he watched everyone enjoy themselves. His keen sense of awareness alerted him to the approaching familiar presence of Fancypants, he looked to his left and saw the tall, broad man walking towards him, martini glass in hand.

“How are you enjoying Crème’s part Fletcher my boy?” Fancy asked.

“Just fine, Mr. Fancy. I am glad to see Crème happy.”

Fancypants looked over towards the dance floor, watching his daughter waltz with a boy he didn’t quite know.

“As am I……Fletcher, may I ask you a question?”

Fletcher’s green eyes looked up at Fancy curiously, noting the serious tone in his voice.

“Of course.”

“Do you like my daughter?”

The young boy’s face went red. “W-W-Well, I…I care about her, Mr. Fancy, but she’s more like a big sister to me to be honest and I can’t really see her as in a…romantic light!”

“That’s fine Fletcher, but let me be more frank. Do you care about my daughter enough to protect her?”

Fletcher raised an eyebrow at that. His demeanor changing into something that most would call a “hunter’s edge”.

“Why, Mr. Fancy? Does Crème need protection?”

Fancypants swirled the liquid in his martini glass around, thinking of how best to word his response to the young boy.

“Fletcher, my business endeavors – however noble and groundbreaking – attract attention. Some of that attention is good, but sometimes…sometimes it attracts the bad kind. The kind that would seek to harm me and my family.”

Fletcher’s eyes narrowed.

“I may be asking a lot of you, but I know your father and mother, and the kind of training you have undergone to hone your archery skills, as well as some other skills. I…”

Suddenly the lights went off in the ball room, causing the party guests to stop and look around in confusion as to what was happening. Some were expecting a birthday cake to be rolled out and for them to start singing “happy birthday”, but there was no birthday candle light in the darkness. The next thing that was heard was the slamming of doors and the many thunderous boot steps that echoed within the ball room. Fletcher’s eyes narrowed as he struggled to catch a glimpse of who or what was moving in the darkness. Soon the steps stopped. Green dots appeared in a semicircle around the party guests. One of them rushed towards the group of people and Fletcher heard Crème’s voice scream!

“What’s going on, let me go!” Crème cried out.

“Crème?!” Fanypants and Fleur cried out in the dark.

The familiar clicking of guns being loaded rang out within the quiet ballroom, making everyone tense up and hold their breaths in terror. Fletcher now understood what those dots were, night vision goggles.

“Kill them all,” said a feminine voice.

“NOO!!!” Fletcher shouted.

Suddenly the room was alight with muzzle flashes and the sounds of screams and automatic gunfire. Cries of death and anguish could be heard raging all around as the clinking of shell casings struck against the dancefloor. After a whole minute of continuous gunfire the shooting stopped. The green dots all vanished and the lights were switched back on.

Crème was standing by a woman dressed in a black stealth suit, her goggles resting on her head, along with a small army of twenty-five, all of which had smoking guns from having emptied their magazines into the innocent party guests. Crème looked upon the bloody carnage of her friends and some of her family lying on the floor in pools of their blood.

“How…Why…?” Crème choked out.

“Your father rubbed some people the wrong way, they needed to send a message and I was hired to do it.” The woman then turned to the others. “We’re leaving, the police will be here soon.”

“Shouldn’t we ‘clean up’ first?” One of the gunmen asked.

“No, our clients want a spectacle, so leave it as is. For once we leave it dirty. And you, little-miss-rich-girl, are coming with us!”

Crème struggled against the two men holding her, trying her best get her arms free from their strong grips. But she went still the moment she felt something press against the back of her head. That moment of hesitation allowed one of the others to slip a mask over her mouth, pressing a button as two vials of unknown substance hissed, making a transition from a liquid to a gas. Crème tried to resist the vapor, but it was no use, her mind was growing hazy, her body limp, and her vision blacking out.

Both men felt as Crème went completely lax, with them the only thing holding her up. The woman nodded to the others and gave a hand motion for them to move out. One of the gunmen thought he spotted movement, his head going back and forth between where he saw the movement and leaving with his team. With a grunt, he rushed toward where he saw something move, his training kicking in about not leaving any witnesses, and that they may not get paid if they weren’t all dead.

The gunman slowly approached one of the corpses, it was a young boy with hair that was brown with gold edges. He saw a slight jerk in the leg and went to fire his gun, but the moment he pulled the trigger nothing happened. He realized quick that he had forgotten to reload his weapon and quickly went to replacing the magazine. But the moment the weapon dislodged its empty clip was the moment that Fletcher needed to strike.

Without warning Fletcher shot up, his face half smeared with blood and his emerald eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. He ripped the gun away from the man, getting the strap to slide off his arm in one swift motion. He then spun around, bringing the butt of the gun slamming hard against the side of the gunman’s right knee. The man let out a pained howl as his knee buckled, going down on his other to keep upright. Fletcher moved with great haste, getting behind him and getting the gun’s strap around gunmen’s neck and twisting it till it became tight around his neck.

The other gunmen noticed their missing comrade and two came back to check on him, but found Fletcher currently in the middle of strangling the guy. They both readied their weapons to fire, but Fletcher was ready as well. Giving the strap a jerk, he repositioned the gunman’s body facing towards his teammates, both began unloading on Fletcher, but only managed to riddle the captured gunman with bullets. Fletcher figured his body and body armor would make for good cover, but he couldn’t do much just on defense. He quickly pulled out the now dead man’s pistol and took careful aim.

He fired one shot, putting the bullet right down the barrel of left gunman just as he pulled the trigger. The result having blown the inner workings of the weapon and making shrapnel out of the gun, blasting it back towards the guy’s face and throwing him on his back. The right gunman couldn’t believe what had just happened, he could tell that he was already dead, but still, that was freaky.

Fletcher took aim yet again, he hated using guns, they were heavy, flashy, and they made too much noise. Plus once you were out of ammo you were screwed, unlike arrows where you could go back and retrieve one if need be.

“So uncivilized,” he muttered.

Fletcher shot again, aiming right for the guy’s gun strap, piercing both ends. He shot again, hitting the gun out the assailant’s hand and making it fall to the floor. The gunman looked like he was about to reach for his sidearm, but Fletcher put a bullet through his hand, both of ‘em. He fired in such quick succession that it sounded like only one shot! His left hand was hit first, putting a four inch hole in it, and the same for his right. The gunman finally gave up and ran to catch up with his comrades. Fletcher threw the dead body to the ground, cocking back the pistol and readying himself for the chase!

“F…Fletcher…?”

The death glare in Fletcher’s eyes faded at the familiar voice. He glanced back at the entrance, making sure that no one else would come back. He searched among the bodies, his heart sinking when he saw Mrs. Fleur dead on the floor amongst them.

“Fle…Fletcher…!”

The young Norwegian boy locked onto the sound of the voice, he dropped to his knees seeing a bleeding Fancypants struggling to stay conscious despite his numerous fatal wounds.

“Mr. Fancy just hold on, I can hear the police coming, their on their way!”

“Fletcher…they took her…they…*cough*!”

The young boy grit his teeth, anger rising at how helpless he was to help Facnypants, he was dying a slow death and now Crème was in danger.

“Please…do whatever it takes…to get her back…! Please…Fletcher…!”

Fancypants raised his right hand and Fletcher took his hand feeling something in it, he didn’t understand what it was, but the look in the dying man’s eyes told him it was something important.

“Promise me…Fletcher, my boy…promise…you’ll protect her?!”

Fletcher’s eyes narrowed with conviction, nodding firmly to Fancypants. The sirens outside grew louder as the red and blue lights began to strobe. Fletcher looked to the light’s hopeful, but when he looked back to Fancypants, his eyes had already closed, his breathing ceased.

Fletcher learned much. At the age of seven, he was introduced to his family’s legacy of accomplished and skilled archers, soon after he was brought on to learn the ways of the bow and arrow. At age eight, he was taught wilderness survival, urban combat, and guerrilla warfare tactics. At age ten, he was taught how to fight hand to hand, various styles, along with parkour and free running. At age eleven, he was shown how to use a gun, he disliked the weapons, but his father insisted that he learn how to use them. At age twelve he was left to continue his training, honing his archery skills, along with his sight, hearing, and smell.

At age thirteen, he had grasped a wide array of knowledge pertaining to technology and weaponry, he even came up with various weaponized arrows, each one able to be launched and effectively take out or disable an enemy, he even designed a specialized bow to use them with, perfectly calibrated to him. But he had neither the resources nor the money to make them, and he didn’t see the need in asking his parents. At age fourteen he figured out how to hack into almost any databank on the planet, it was also at that age that he won the gold medal in Olympic Archery.

Listing all these things together, it was a wonder that he wasn’t some sociopathic killing machine. Fletcher attributed this to one person, one girl, Crème. During all his training, all the grueling trials, it was Crème that helped him feel normal, safe, and gave him hope that he wasn’t some child soldier. His parents did all this to prepare him for whatever may come, apparently the world was getting more dangerous and that normal methods of defense weren’t cutting it anymore. They wanted Fletcher to be ready for whatever was thrown at him, and that he wouldn’t hesitate if someone threatened his life or when had to take another’s life in defense of himself or others.

Crème always gave him that semblance of a normal life, the days spent with her, her laughter, her silly ways, and her kindness, those times that he was with her helped to remind that he was a human being. But now…now that semblance of normalcy was being threatened, in danger. He wasn’t going to stand by and let that continue.

The police had arrived and did what they normally did, they took his statement, cordoned off the crime scene, and began putting out an all-points bulletin on Crème, having every cop in Matropolis looking for her. But Fletcher knew better, these guys weren’t amateurs, they were professional hit-men, mercenaries, if they didn’t want to be found then they wouldn’t. No matter how hard the police looked, no matter how far they searched, they could be right under their noses or right in front of them and they wouldn’t know.

Fortunately, Fletcher had something that they didn’t. Fancypant’s last hope in finding her, and now it would be Fletcher’s. He hid it from the police, seeing only what was given to him after he had entered his room. From what he could tell, it was some sort of device, remarkably undamaged. It was a little black box, but he had no idea how to open it. Fletcher pulled at it and found that something slid out. It looked like a touchscreen phone. On it was a blinking light that read “Do you wish to track?”

“Of course,” whispered Fletcher.

Fletcher tapped the icon and immediately the screen lit up, displaying a globe. A sight reticle zeroed in on something, zooming in closer and closer till the name “Matropolis City” popped up. A readout on the side of the screen showed coordinates, as well as speed, and condition. The reticle stopped as it locked onto the tracer, showing Crème’s position and it was still in motion! From what the readout showed, her vitals were still good, meaning that she hadn’t been harmed, yet.

Fletcher placed the device on his nightstand and looked out the window. He made Fancypants a promise and he was going to keep it. Fletcher reached under his bed, pulling the case that held his bow. He clicked open the latches, showing the bow in question. He took it out, placing it on the bed. He then reached under the bottom and upper padding, pulling out a green quiver filled with at least fifty arrows, all with sharp bladed tips.

The boy removed his bloodstained clothes, and opened his closet, pulling out a pair of black jeans, a dark green hoody, and a black scarf to wrap around his neck and mouth, leaving his eyes and nose unobstructed. Fletcher strapped the quiver to his back, and placing the bow in a special holster behind him.

Getting out wouldn’t be the hard part, the cops may’ve been swarming all over the place, but they weren’t paying attention to the garage, and his room window was right over it. Fletcher, after making sure he had everything he needed, and after securing the handheld tracking device, opened the window and took a quick look. His training had helped his eyes to adjust to changing light faster, his archery training also came in handy when spotting minuet movements in the dark. So far there was none.

Fletcher felt bad that he was about to ditch the cops, they meant well, but there was no time to have them gather all their forces. Crème was still in the city, if they saw the police coming they might kill her or move her, and Fletcher wasn’t sure where the tracker was located, so there was no telling if it would come off or be found out.

Fletcher tied together his bed sheets and some of his clothes, creating a makeshift rope to repel down from the third story room. He calculated that the robe would reach the second story window just below him, which would leave just a few feet from the bottom, luckily the windowsill was long enough for him to stand on. Fletcher kept climbing down till his feet rested on the windowsill, lowering himself, he kicked out his feet and grabbed onto it quickly.

The hooded archer looked back, seeing the expanse of the rooftop of the garage. Once he was sure of the length and distance, he tucked his legs under him, putting the soles of his shoes against the wall. Fletcher then kicked off, performing two somersaults in midair before landing with the grace and skill of a cat on the garage roof, when he looked back he let out a relieved sigh, seeing only a short five feet between him and the ledge.

Note to self: One somersault would’ve been sufficient.

Fletcher ducked down, scanning the area once again for police presence. Thankfully they were mostly concentrated at the ballroom and interior. Fletcher got off the roof with ease and made his way inside the garage. It was no secret that Mr. Fancypants was a collector of various vehicles, ranging anywhere from vintage cars, imports, and – much to his denial of him having a midlife crisis – a wide range of motorcycles, hogs and speedsters mostly.

Fletcher looked through them all till he found the one he wanted, a black Hayabusa. Crème had shown Fletcher ways off the property that weren’t the main entrance, they were hidden by brush, and other foliage, but the most important thing about them was they could be made big enough to get himself and the bike through, and one of those just happened to lead off the property. Fletcher went to the key box, finding the correct keys to the bike.

“Stay safe Crème, I’ll be there soon…!”

UNKNOWN LOCATION…

Crème felt very groggy, her consciousness fading in and out. She heard voices, people she didn’t know, they sounded angry, really angry. She was aware of her body being moved, but everything was numb, like what would happen if you slept on your arm all night, only all over her body. Crème’s vision would fade in and out as well, showing her glimpses of flashing lights, from what she could guess, they were either street lamps or car lights, most likely both.

Suddenly the feeling of motion stopped and her consciousness faded out again. Time was an enigma at this moment, Crème had no idea how long she had been like this, it felt like hours were passing by, but that couldn’t be it. Her mind however, her mind would not let her rest completely. The images of her slaughtered friends and family, being gunned down like sick dogs, they were all dead. Her mother and father, two people who meant the world to her, and she to them, they were gone. And Fletcher…Fletcher was dead. The boy she had come to regard as a little brother, her closest friend, was dead as well.

Crème had enough feeling to know that she was crying, Fletcher was so young, he had lots to experience and see, girls to impress, the chance to fall in love. All of those things would forever be lost to him. And soon, she believed, she too would share their fate.

Her consciousness began to drift back to the waking world. Crème’s body was starting to regain its feeling, enough for her to realize that she was sitting down in a chair, a very uncomfortable chair. Her blurry vision came back into focus, revealing an office space. A desk was right across from her, with a window that opened up to a large room. There was a board behind the desk, showing statistics and other information. Crème’s mind already went to work identifying the numbers, she was always good when it came to mathematics and number crunching, particularly when it came to finances, hell, her own father had her balance their checkbooks!

Crème’s mind was still a bit hazy from whatever it was they made her breathe in, but she had enough clarity to work out what she was seeing. From what she surmised, she was in some sort warehouse judging from the words “cargo” and “net weight”. Products seem to come in by the hundreds or thousands, and from what the numbers told, they were turning a good profit, but there was one line that she didn’t understand, its price being stated as “negotiable”.

Suddenly, Crème heard a door close behind her. She tried to get up, but she quickly found out that her wrists were tied behind her back – no – from the clinking sound and the cold feel of metal, she was cuffed. Crème turned her head and noticed a scruffy looking man wearing a business suit enter the room.

“Ah, the princess is finally awake! They must’ve given ya a good dose of that knock out stuff, I was about to start callin’ ya Sleepin’ Beauty, ha-ha!”

“W-Who are you?! Why am I here?!” Crème asked.

“Relax sweetheart, we’re getting to that.”

The man walked over to his desk, opening a drawer and taking out a rather large cigar. He took out a lighter from his jacket pocket and let it, taking single puff before sitting down and kicking up his feet onto his desk.

“That’s better, so the name’s Shady Dealings, friends call me Shade. That covers the ‘who’, as to the ‘why’…well…the easiest answer is that it’s just business.”

Crème’s brow furrowed at that. “‘Business’?! You call killing my mother and father, my friends, all of them, ‘just business’?!”

Shade took another puff from the cigar. “Look, let me break it down for you. I cover a wide array of shipping, as well as some…‘special orders’ that need to be moved up and down Matropolis, Canterlot City, and as well as some other reputable locations. You’re father, Fancypants, owns a good deal of these warehouses and shipping routes. I did a little business with him and we were on the up and up. Until he found out what I was really moving using those routes.”

Crème gulped. “And…what exactly were you moving?”

Shade took his feet off his desk, looking directly at Crème with a lecherous gaze.

“Pretty young things like yourself. You wouldn’t believe what a human being is worth to the right buyer, girls especially, the younger the better. Personally, I don’t touch none of that with a ten foot pole, but uh, you on the other hand…”

Crème squirmed in her seat, trying to defend herself as best she could, even though it would be useless given her current situation.

“Don’t worry, I ain’t touchin’ ya, you’re worth more untouched. You got your mother’s looks, and the body of a supermodel to boot, plus, when they hear that you’re some rich girl, cha-ching.”

“So you killed my parents just so you can sell me off?!”

And stop your old man from sniffing around. Once he found out about my other business, he planned on getting me thrown in jail, put my business under review and soon, my other constituents would get pissed at me! I had to keep him quiet, and what better way than to massacre him, send a message to anybody else who tried to dig too deep!”

Now it made sense to Crème, why her father had been on edge for a while, trying to hide what this evil man was doing and using his company to further his own ends. Crème couldn’t believe this, now, now she as in the middle of it all.

“So now what will you do with me…?”

“Well next I throw you in a bin with the others and wait until the heat dies down a little before movin’ ya. In a day or two, I’ll ship ya to an auction house I got up in Baltimare. ‘Course, I don’t mind tellin’ you, since you’ll be seein’ it soon anyway.”

Shade snapped his fingers and two armed guards entered the room. One of them un-cuffed Crème while the other grabbed hold of her hard, Shade then rounded on the guard pointing his lit cigar at him threateningly.

“Hey-hey-hey-hey! Gently handle her you idiots! I’m not going to get much from her if she’s bruised up! The others are one thing, but handle with care! Got it?!” Shade shouted.

The two guards nodded their affirmation, afterwards Shade waved him off to take her away. Crème was manhandled, as gently as possible, to a large metal crate. Another guard opened the door, pointing a gun at the entrance. Crème was then placed inside as the doors were shut behind her. Crème balled up her fists and her eyes stinging with tears, but then she heard noise from behind her.

Crème turned around and noticed a single electrical lamp in the middle of the long metal crate. Huddled near it were many girls, her eyes grew wide when they finally adjusted to the weak lighting. Many of them were way younger than her, at least ten, twelve years old at the most.

My god…

One of the girls, skittishly, approached Crème, looking up at her with eyes that were comforting, and yet, appeared to have lost any hope of leaving this place.

“W-Who are you Miss?”

Crème knelt down, offering out her hand to the young girl.

“I’m Crème de la Crème, but you can call me Crème.”

TEN MINUTES LATER…

Fletcher sped through the night on the bike, following the blip on the device. His ride had taken him towards the warehouse district of Matropolis, this made Fletcher worry. Many of them were stationed near the train tracks. If they wanted to get Crème out of the city undetected, then the railroad was a good way to do it.

Fletcher stopped about halfway into the maze of warehouses, letting the device zero in on Crème’s location, but after a couple of minutes the signal began to get fuzzy.

“Must be someplace that’s blocking the signal, but at least I have a general idea of where she is,” said Fletcher.

He hid the Hayabusa near some wooden crates and proceeded on foot the rest of the way. Fletcher reached back and grabbed his bow, pressing the button on the handle and making the bars spring out. Reaching up to the top bar, he pulled down a long, thin string that Fletcher hooked to the other end, locking it into place and tightening the draw string. Fletcher pulled one arrow out of his quiver and notched it, giving the string a test pull to make sure it was good for use. Once satisfied that it was, Fletcher kept going, arrow still notched and ready to be fired should he spot someone dangerous.

Fletcher ran about the warehouses for a good five minutes, ducking behind crates, barrels, and whatnot as he made his way towards the last clear location the device gave him before the signal got scrambled. Fletcher stopped, hearing footsteps in the distance. Looking around, he quickly jumped up onto a stack of crates, laying low against them as he waited and watched.

“I hate patrolling this place at night, gives me the creeps man.”

“Then why the hell did you sign up for the night shift instead of the day, huh?!”

“‘Cause for one, they move more of the ‘product’ at night. And sometimes the boss lets us sample ‘em. I don’t mind patrolling inside, outside, ugh.”

“Jeez you’re an idiot, but dammit if you don’t make a good point. Hey, I heard we got a new girl on the menu, she’s supposed be hot from what I here.”

“Yeah, but I doubt the Boss will let us do anything with her. After what I heard he went through to get her, he’ll probably keep her off the menu.”

“Damn!”

That was all Fletcher needed to hear. He bolted upright, getting on one knee as he notched an arrow. To the untrained eye, these arrows looked like ordinary metal arrows, but they weren’t. They were diamond tipped and finely sharpened with a precision laser, these arrows were so sharp they could pierce through a steel door ten feet thick. Overkill yes, but when you need it and don’t have it, you sing a different tune.

Fletcher took aim and released the arrow! It cut through air, traveling faster than the eye could see. The arrow swiftly found its home in the knee cap of the guard to Fletcher’s left, the force and velocity at which it traveled threw him forward, lodging itself in the concrete ground and anchoring him there. Fletcher fluidly notched another, firing it right for the one on his right. The arrow pierced through his neck, making him stumble about, and preventing him from screaming. The only sound was that of faint, wet, gurgling noises.

Fletcher jumped off the crates and ran with swift haste towards his fallen prey. The pinned guard was too busy trying to get himself free to notice Fletcher’s light footsteps creep up on him. Fletcher then placed the tip of his arrow at the back of the man’s skull, making him freeze up.

“Before you reach for your weapon, keep in mind that this arrow is pulled tight against the draw string, which means if I even see you flinch for your gun, you’ll be dead before you realize that you are,” said Fletcher in a gruff voice.

“W-What do you want?!”

“You were talking about a girl, one that was kidnapped and brought here. Where is she?”

“I…I…”

Fletcher released the arrow, tilting it slightly to the right, letting the ridiculously sharp arrowhead cut the man’s ear, nearly taking the whole thing off. The man let go of his weapon and went to cup his now bleeding ear, cursing up a storm from the pain radiating from it.

“I never miss, so consider that one a warning! Answer my question and you might live to see morning! Now where is the girl that was brought here?!”

“Goddam –! Alright-Alright I’ll tell you! Warehouse 5G, that’s where all the product is brought to, I swear!”

“And by ‘product’ you mean what?!”

“People, girls, runaways, kidnapped, you name it they’re there!”

Fletcher’s green eyes narrowed upon hearing this. If there was one thing that he detested the most, it was selling other people as if they were merchandise.
“Thank you, you get see the sunrise!”

Fletcher put his arrow back into the quiver, afterwards he slammed the bar of his bow against the back of the man’s skull, knocking him out in one blow. He fell forward in a kneeling position, his kneecap still pinned to the ground by the arrow. Fletcher retrieved his arrow, and the other before moving on to Warehouse 5G.

It didn’t take long before he found it. There were a sparse amount of guards around the actual building, but that only meant that there might’ve been more inside, and the ones outside were probably spread out on patrol. He needed a way to get them all in one place, get their attention somehow.

Fletcher’s keen eyes spotted something, a gas barrel just a few feet away. He slung the bow across his body and hurried towards the barrel, ducking behind a corner when he spotted another guard. Fletcher looked on the ground and found a lug nut, possibly missing from some piece of equipment somewhere. He picked it up and chucked it as far as he could, aiming for a wall just a few feet away. The lug nut hit the metal with metallic “thump”. The guard immediately brandished his gun and went to investigate.

Fletcher, after watching the guard leave, ran towards one of the fuel barrels. He gently eased it down to the ground, getting on the other side of it, Fletcher took off the cap and kicked it down the way. He let it roll, leaving behind a trail of gasoline as it continued on. Soon a couple of the guards noticed the barrel, stopping it before it rolled too much further. Fletcher then took out one of his arrows and struck the ground at an angle that caused sparks to fly. The sparks ignited the gasoline, following the trail all the way towards the barrel. The two guards noticed too late as the fire zipped into the barrel and exploded outwards, throwing their charred bodies twenty feet away.

Fletcher was already gone, finding the high ground and keeping an eye out for the rest of the guards. They came out like moths to a flame, all of them wielding their automatic weapons, prepared to fight against a rival gang. Fletcher did a headcount, being a night operation, he didn’t expect many, and he was right. Just from what he saw, there were twenty in all, not counting those that didn’t run outside.

Taking out another arrow, he cut the bindings that held a large collection of fuel barrels, letting them fall and roll towards the gathered guards. They bounced up and down, hurtling towards them quickly. Fletcher notched the same arrow, watching for the barrel closest to the flames. Finding it, he fired the arrow.

The arrow flew through the air, passing by several other barrels, narrowly missing two, and grazing against another. But like always, he hit his mark, piercing the barrel and exiting off to who knows where. The hole in the barrel began to spill out the gasoline, catching the flames and igniting it. The result was a chain reaction of multiple explosions, taking out the guards and part of the warehouse front with it.

No doubt that woke up somebody, the police will definitely be here soon.

Fletcher ran towards the opening, no doubt they’d be terrified and in shock of what just happened, this was his chance, a full blitz attack! Fletcher went in, bow drawn. One guard spotted him, but not before Fletcher saw him, putting an arrow right in his heart, the second managed to fire a couple of rounds, but Fletcher slid low, avoiding the bullets. He notched two arrows and quickly put them in his head and heart. One of them was too close to use any arrows, so Fletcher resorted to hand-to-hand combat, knocking his gun from his hand and using his bow to knock him around.

Fletcher caught movement from his left, he took out an arrow, stabbed the man he was currently fighting in the throat, and then notched that same arrow, hitting the would-be sneak attacker dead center.

The hooded archer saw someone moving about, he wasn’t wearing anything like the plain clothes the guards wore. This other one had suit on, possibly this “boss” or one of his higher up lackeys. Fletcher followed the man, keeping to the high ground as he watched him frantically run towards one of the crates. He hurriedly opened the door and went inside. Fletcher heard a myriad of screams coming from the crate, but there was only one voice his keen ears picked up on.

“LET ME GO!” Crème yelled.

“Shut up! I don’t know what’s goin’ on here, but this is freakin’ insane! We’re leavin’ – NOW!”

Fletcher waited till the man and Crème were in a good space for him to attack, the archer readied to fire, but an explosion from outside lit up the warehouse. The man saw Fletcher’s shadow and aimed his gun towards him. Fletcher jumped behind the crate just in time to avoid the gunfire.

“Give up, that explosion was heard for miles, there’s no way the police aren’t coming! It’s over, let her go and you’ll live to see the inside of a jail cell!”

“Screw you, nobody puts Shade behind bars! You’re in no position to talk, I got her! And you, you’re gonna sit there while I get outta here!”

Crème had only caught a glimpse when the explosion happened, but she knew, she knew that it had to be Fletcher. A few feet away, she saw a dark green colored arrow sticking out of the chest of one of the guards, confirming her suspicions. Crème thought frantically of how to help him, but her hands were cuffed yet again, and with his gun pointed Fletcher’s position, there was no way the young boy could let loose an arrow. Crème looked up, seeing one of the cranes that still had a metal platform. Immediately her mind began calculating, taking Fletcher’s position, and Shade’s.

“To your twelve ‘o clock, five feet to your left!” Crème shouted.

Fletcher looked up as Crème said, seeing the plaform. It was a long shot, but he was good at those. Fletcher aimed the arrow right at the platform overhead, he then released it. The arrow spun as it sailed upwards, but instead of piercing the metal, the angle at which the arrow hit the metal changed its direction. The arrow now traveled downwards, still holding onto its speed and power. Before Shade could figure out what was happening, the arrow had descended, hitting his gun and pinning it to the floor.

“What the hell –?!”

Crème stamped on his foot, making him release her. Luckily for her, the slit in the dress was high enough to allow her free movement, to which she used to deliver a spinning kick to Shade’s head, knocking him up against the wall. Crème had taken a few self-defense courses, she thought her father was being paranoid, but apparently they came in handy this night. Fletcher jumped up onto the crate and fired three arrows, two finding their homes in both of Shade’s thighs, and the last piercing his shoulder, pinning him like a butterfly on display.

Fletcher quickly jumped down, heading towards Crème. The tall young woman looked upon the boy she regarded as a little brother. Cloaked in a dark green hoody, scarf around his mouth, bow in one hand, and with a quiver full of arrows on his back. He had some bloodstains here and there, but none of it was his she guessed. She knew the boy had gone through some training to be good at archery, but this was far beyond anything she thought him capable of.

The hooded archer could tell by the look in her eye that she was probably shocked to see him like this. He was sure his eyes had a scary look about them, having had to take out so many armed guards without a moment’s hesitation, but he didn’t care, if Crème didn’t want to see him again or treat him like family anymore then that was fine, so long as she was safe that’s what mattered. But he was surprised when Crème moved forward and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’d hug you…but my hands are cuffed behind my back.” Crème apologized.

Fletcher couldn’t help but smile under his scarf, he then brought his right arm over her, bringing her into a half-hug.

“It’s alright Crème,” he spoke in his normal tone, “you’ll owe me a proper hug later.”

Crème sniffled a little, but she was truly happy to see Fletcher alive. Afterwards, Fletcher got behind her and picked the locks of the cuffs, releasing her arms.

“How did you find me?” Crème asked.

“Your father gave me this,” Fletcher pulled out the device, “he gave it to me, and made me promise to get you back no matter what. And I keep my promises, Crème.”

Crème watched as the device’s screen zoomed in closer, tracking Crème’s position, she looked down at her neck, seeing the necklace her father gave her years back. She moved it closer to it and the machine responded.

Good old Father, always watching over me.

“C’mon, the police will be here soon and I need to make myself scarce before they realize I’m gone.”

TWO DAYS LATER…

{Are you sure son?}

“Yes Father, I am.”

{You’re Mother and I were worried about you when we got the news, but it seems you did well in saving Crème. Well done. Do as your heart tells you son, you have our support.}

“Thank you Father.”

Fletcher hung up his cellphone and put it in his pocket. Two days since the incident and the press would not stop hounding Crème about what had happened. A police detail was put outside the gates to the manor, keeping the vultures at bay. The man known as Shady Dealings was found pinned to the wall of the warehouse, where they also discovered large amounts of kidnapped girls stored away in metal crates all along the warehouse and then some. Shade was brought up on multiple counts of kidnapping, human trafficking, and the murder of Crème’s parents, friends, and family during the party.

Though Fletcher knew that the ones who did the killing were professionals, and Shade was the one who paid them. Still, one victory at a time. Fletcher walked towards the second story patio, finding Crème gazing upon the open sky and the city in the distance. Fletcher let out a sad sigh as he made his way towards her.

“Hallo, Crème.”

Crème glanced over her right shoulder and smiled at Fletcher.

“Hey. Oh, I have some news. Fancy Industries is going to be run by the Board of Directors for a bit, at least until I’m up to speed on all of the company’s business.”

“That’s good. So…how are you feeling?”

Crème looked back towards the sky. “Kind of lonely………Can I have a hug?”

Fletcher walked up beside Crème, placing his left arm over her shoulders and bringing her close. She took comfort in his presence, and allowed herself to let out a few more tears of sadness over the events that have happened.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a real crybaby today aren’t I?” Crème asked.

“You have every right to cry Crème.”

Crème leaned into Fletcher a little more. “You know, those girls I saw, the ones who were kidnapped. I’m funding them so they can find their parents, as well as find good homes for those who were living on the streets before they were taken.”

“That’s good, I’m sure they’ll be alright…well…as alright as one can hope.”

“I can’t believe there are people like that…I hear about it on the news and in talks, but to actually see it, be put into that kind of situation…and to think that there are more out there!”

Fletcher watched as Crème gripped her forearms tighter, shaking slightly.

“I just wish…I wish I could do something! But I’m not a fighter like you, Fletcher. I can’t wield a bow, I’m not crazy good at martial arts, or anything like that…”

“Then let me.”

Crème looked at Fletcher incredulously, as if she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. But Fletcher’s gaze was still held on the horizon, his eyes having the same seriousness as that night.

“You can’t be serious?! Fletcher you can’t, I don’t want you to put yourself in danger like that!”

“That time I was ill equipped to handle them, but I made it work. You said you wish you could do something, this is something. Let me go out there and fight them! They surely aren’t the only criminal element in Matropolis, and if their operation does expand beyond the city, then we’re the best chance at stopping them in their tracks!”

Crème pulled back from Fletcher, looking at the boy as he stood there still holding his serious expression.

“But the police…”

“The police can only do so much. Yes, I know I’d become a vigilante, but if we work with them, we can take down the ones wholly responsible for your parents death, and the suffering of others! You’re father asked me to protect you, and the best way for me to do that is to take down the ones who threatened him! Otherwise they’ll shift to you Crème.”

Crème was conflicted, she didn’t want Fletcher to be put into that kind of situation, going out and fighting against armed criminals who wouldn’t think twice about shooting a kid, less when he’s armed. But then again, Fletcher’s actions at the warehouse showed that he had the skill and ability to fight against them.

“I’ve made my choice Crème, my parents already support that decision. But only if you agree to it, otherwise I’ll drop the matter completely, but that still won’t stop me from staying with you and keeping you safe.”

Crème sighed heavily as she turned away and looked towards the horizon yet again, her long hair flowing in the wind and obscuring her face.

“Do you have a plan?”

“First thing’s to get better equipment, if I were to do this it will take some doing, but afterwards I’ll hit the ground running, track down leads wherever I can find them.”

“Well then…” Crème turned her head, flashing Fletcher an assuring smile. “You’ll need someone to help back you up, financially anyway.”

“Crème?”

“Don’t forget, I did most of FI’s financial work. I’m crazy good with money and math. So it won’t take much to move some money around to our R&D department to help you out. We have them make you the tools you need, both to fight and to keep you safe out there.”

As much as Fletcher liked this idea, there was some risk. “Crème, if I do this, and if I’m found out, you’ll be putting yourself in the crossfire! On my own I alone take the blame, but you, and your company, will be taken in for harboring and aiding a vigilante!”

“I’m already in the crossfire, those guys made it clear that they intended to sell me and kill everyone else! I won’t let others suffer like that, and I won’t stand by as you do all the fighting! I may not be able to go out there with you, but at least I can provide you with the tools and equipment to do so! A lot of the workers for my father are like family to us, they’re loyal, so they won’t say a word, especially if it’s for a noble cause like this!”

Crème stood firm before Fletcher, her gaze narrowed, but her smile was as prominent as ever.

“I’ve made my choice Fletcher, what’s yours?!”

Fletcher couldn’t help but chuckle, which made Crème tilt her head to the side in confusion. The young boy brought his feet together, standing straight and at attention. He then bowed towards Crème, surprising her with the action.

“Then let’s work together Crème, in your stead I’ll the sword.”

“Hmmmmm…nope.”

Fletcher’s head shot up. “No?!”

“No, a sword doesn’t sound good, not in your case. More like…an arrow…the Arrow.”

Fletcher smiled as he rose from his bow and stood before Crème, holding out his hand.

“Very well, Arrow it is.”

“Good.” Crème reached out and shook his hand, cementing their partnership in their war on crime. “Now c’mere!”

“Wait what – mmmph?!”

Crème brought Fletcher into another hug, his face being smothered by his surrogate sister’s bosom.

“Can’t…breathe…!”

Author's Note:

Fletcher's Bio
Crème de la Crème's Bio

So yeah, Fletcher's my Robin-ish character for the Teen Titans. If you're wondering why I didn't give him the name Red Arrow, Speedy, or Arsenal, it's because A: He isn't angsty enough to be Roy Harper, B: Yes he does know how to use other weapons but as he stated he finds them to be "uncivilized", and C: I couldn't make him a Robin because his special talent is in archery, and c'mon it's in his name. I could've gone with Green Arrow, but I decided to go with just Arrow since I have a Green Lantern. Also, Crème's role is important to the Titans. Any who...

SECRET ORIGINS ARC: END

INVASION ARC: START