randomplaces | Futureknight Chapter 1

"My goodness, Miss Veronica, there's no doubt that you're a Grayson."

Three year old Ronnie looked down at her favorite grown-up friend and giggled. "How'd you find me? I hide good!"

"You certainly did." Prudence reached the branch she clung to and paused to look back down at the house.

"All my aunties 'n nuncles!" said Ronnie proudly, watching the crowd that mingled and laughed on the expansive back lawn.

"Yes." Prudence smiled, then glanced up at a multi-jet that was flying overhead. "But now we must get you down from this tree!"

Ronnie giggled again. "I get down myself! Big girl!"

"Indeed." Prudence watched her bemusedly as she swung gaily back and forth on the branch and then caught it with her hands in preparation of going down.

"Richy come?" she asked for the umpteenth time since the day had started, seeming to pay no attention to the long drop below her as her big grey eyes went to Prudence's face.

"No. Master Richard couldn't come," Prudence repeated patiently, putting an arm around Ronnie's plump middle and lifting her.

"I can do it!" The toddler wriggled indignantly.

"Yes, you can..."

Ronnie stopped struggling and looked up as Prudence stiffened and growled, then shrieked as her friend suddenly grabbed her with both arms and leaped from the tree, landing on her feet and running toward the woods.

"Pru?" She started to cry with fright at the strange behavior.

Then she screamed as a loud noise seemed to push Prudence forward. The air filled with a horrible smell.

"Jesus, be our shield!" Prudence's voice was a cry of agony as Ronnie screamed again, her body spasming.

It hurt! It hurt! And she felt so sick…

Ronnie woke gasping, her muscles taut with remembered pain.

Dream. She forced herself to relax. Just a dream.

She tentatively raised one hand to her face, grateful to see that her mobility implant was back online.

The hand went down to explore the bandages stuck to her side, fingers smoothing a rough corner. Not too big. It mustn't have been too hard to get out. Good. I've got enough lines.

She chuckled and lifted the hand again to study the tracery of silver that marked her nervous system, then let it fall and turned her mind to the night before. He called himself Hormah. And those flechetts he threw.... At least I have a weapon sample, though that's the first time he's used them. Most of his victims so far have been gassed.

"I need to get a sample of that gas." She dug her shoulders into the bed, then reached up to the overhead bar and pulled herself to a sitting position. "I'd like breakfast now, Prudence."

"Zit alright if I bring it instead? rumbled a harsh voice from the intercom.

Ronnie's thoughtful scowl was replaced with delight. "Uncle Lobo! When did you get in?"

"Few minutes ago." The former assassin pushed the door open and clomped over to hand her a little bowl.

"What happened to the tray and the crackers?" Ronnie lifted an eyebrow.

"Didn't need no tray." He gave her a toothy grin, his red eyes dancing as he slumped into the bedside chair. "An' I don't know nothin' 'bout no crackers."

Ronnie set the bowl on the night table and reached over to dust the crumbs out of the stubble on his chin. "Of course you don't. You would never eat cheese-flavored crackers shaped like goldfish."

"%$#@ no!" He caught her in a gentle hug. "'N I'll frag anybody that says different. How ya doin', kid?"

"Alright." She let go of him and pressed the button to raise the head of her bed, then lay back.

He gave her a look, totally unfooled. "What hurts?"

"My hip. It'll pass." She picked up the soup and gave thanks, then sipped contentedly.

"Don't know how ya kin drink that crap." Lobo shuddered and curled his lip.

"Miso soup is my favorite. And it saved you from having to go back to Prudence for a second bowl."

"Yeah." He grinned, totally unrepentant about his breakfast pilfering.

She smiled back fondly. "It's good to see you. Where did you and Aunt Star park?"

"Star labs." Lobo pulled out a chewed cigar and stuck it in his mouth. "Star wanted ta catch up with Vendea."

Ronnie reached up and took the cigar, then dropped it into the trash basket.

"Hey! That's my last one!"

"Good." She quirked an eyebrow.

He scowled at her, an expression known to make hardened killers faint with fear.

She smiled back, eyes dancing.

The scowl faltered.

"Frag, ya never were scared 'a me." He sighed and reached for a chocolate rabbit that sat on the night table.

"That's Clark's," said Ronnie. "And it's hard to be afraid of the person who used to sing to me and tell me stories when my whole body hurt."

He sniffed the rabbit and set it back. "Don't see how the kid can stand that crap. So what bastich hurt ya?"

"Hormah."

Lobo froze in the act of reaching into the trash, then sat up slowly. "Hormah?"

Ronnie blinked at the rumble of deadly menace in his voice. "Yes."

"That dirty bastich has some *&@%$ nerve comin' back here," snarled Lobo.

"You've met him?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"He wouldn't be alive if I had! I'd a fragged 'im 'n fed 'im ta slorgs!" Lobo leaped to his feet and began to stalk back and forth, his eyes nearly glowing with rage.

"Master Lobo?" Prudence paused in the doorway, regarding him with disapproval. "Whatever has aroused your temper, I am certain that it does not warrant that sort of language."

He whirled and glared at her. "Hormah's back."

Prudence growled an archaic curse, her claws unsheathing reflexively.

"Wait." Ronnie frowned. "You know him?"

Prudence shook herself and examined the damage to her white gloves. "Indeed I do, Miss Veronica. He challenged your uncle James on more than one occasion."

"I haven't seen his name on the list of criminals who worked in Gotham." Ronnie shifted, wincing absently.

"No, he never worked in Gotham." Prudence glanced at Lobo as he put his fist through the wall. "But he carried on quite a determined vendetta against the members of the Donaldson/Wayne/Grayson family."

"He's the one that dropped the Blight bomb." Ronnie felt her legs go cold at the realization.

Prudence took a deep breath and nodded, face expressionless. "Yes."