Wanderings.
Wanderings.
>>
“No worries, Lou. I'm good here and I'll be here for the overnight most of the time, if you want to cut overnight guards, that's cool.”
Lou smacks him on the back as he heads to his seat for lunch. They are eating outside using a big hose spool as a table, and the concrete pad that the office trailer sits on as a seat.
“No, Tommy. You have to get out of that jaded, bullshit, corporate mindset. Remember, if you as the boss are having to let people go, then you fucked up. You did. You just trained up and then cut loose the people that your competition is going to use to beat you senseless for the next few years. Attrition. Always let attrition handle your over-staffing issues. There's no point in constantly having to train new people just because you can't get your salespeople to tell the damn truth. Don't make promises that you can't fulfill with the workforce you have and within the time constraints you are working with.”
“I get it, Lou. Calm down. So when are you going to close the deal?”
His Uncle shrugs and talks around a bite of sandwich. “Oh, it'll take a month at least to close. Probably I'll move in just before school picks up for you. It'll take that long to get you squared away. Did you have any plans for the day?”
Tom reaches over for the bread, peanut butter, and jelly. “Not really, but I'm kinda restless. Feels like I spend a lot of time locked up in here. Was thinking about hitting the fairgrounds. I doubt they'll let me ride anything, but there is a full carnival here right now and the fair food sounds fun.”
Uncle Lou rolls his eyes. “If you want fair food, we can piss in a barrel full of grease and fry food in it here too if you like.” He sends a wry smirk to his nephew. “I'll tell you what, you go out and have a good time on your Sunday, I am going to work over the plans for your tractor and trailer.”
As Tom stands to go get cleaned up and dressed in slightly nicer clothes for the day, his Uncle speaks up again. “Don't forget to set aside time the week after next to get your commercial driver's license. I'm paying overtime to McGlicken to make sure you can pass it, and you'll need it to haul your house around.”
“Yeah, Uncle. I gotcha.”
“And when you come in tomorrow, eyes and mind on what we're doing. I don't care how hot the young things flinging themselves at you in the evening are.”
“I... but... You...”
His uncle laughs at him. “Get out of here. And hell, maybe sometime ask one of them fillies out to a movie or something. They can't hate you that much or they'd be 'sparring' with buddies from up on their sky tower.”
Uncle Lou wiggles his eyebrows at a completely horrified young Tom. As Tom runs, the laughter picks up again, then the muttering.
“We weld the box in good enough materials, then the structure and the armor are the same thing and it also means that the structure can survive him, which is nice. But damn that weight adds up fast...”
>>
The fairgrounds are pretty much what he remembers. The event coming through now is fairly large, so there are dozens of trucks that have vomited forth rides for the adventurous, games and events for the skilled or unwary, and food stands for those of stout constitution.
And then there is him. Tommy. The unexpected attraction. His first stop is to get a real fair food corn dog. They have an air fryer in the yard, and he can eat a dozen of them in a sitting with no issues. But these things, these are the real deal, enormous and a delight. As long as they are still warm, at least. They fail like all other fast food when the attempt is made to consume them outside of their optimum temperature range, where the evil waits to congeal.
Two of the giant corn dogs get him to a stand selling fresh caramel corn with nuts and stuff. He skips the cotton candy as being a waste of time for the amount of actual food but gets a big doughnut thing covered in cinnamon and sugar.
By this time he has gathered quite the entourage, but nobody has tried talking to him yet. Even the carnies seem to just take his money with minimal contact otherwise.
Then, as he is beginning to think that his being in public is just not worth the hassle of dealing with a mob, he feels his right-hand pointer finger get grabbed.
Not in a way that causes him concern. The grip is quite weak, for all that it seems to carry an authority beyond the means of the strength it has to enforce.
Looking down, he can see a young child with dark eyes and hair that has just the tiniest tinge of red at the tips. She can't be more than five years old, and she is dragging him.
By a finger. Color him bemused.
“So where are we going?” He asks her as he begins to follow, looking around for a parent who is losing their mind.
“He's cheating people, and Daddy said you were strong so you need to beat him so he stops cheating people 'cause he shouldn't be keeping them from their homes!”
With that, she dramatically points forty feet away where a guy in his late teens or early twenties behind the 'Ring the bell with a hammer, win a prize!' contest is starting to wonder if laughing at the kid throwing a temper tantrum was a great idea.
It takes Tom a moment to realize that 'them' in this instance refers to the stuffed animals. Not potential child trafficking.
And wasn't that fifteen seconds worth of the craziest speculation ever?
He points to the stand. “You want me to win an animal or something?”
The girl is standing there, eyes narrowed as her foot taps imperiously as the dumb kid behind the counter pales further.. “...Or something.”
“Lian! There you are!”
“Daddy! I found him, and he is gonna get me the shark!” She points excitedly to a giant stuffed animal/body pillow that is several times larger than the child in question.
Tom starts on his way over to 'Daddy.' “Hi! I'm Tom Wierzowski. I'm guessing the munchkin is yours?”
The man shakes his head, offering a wry grin and a hand to shake. “Roy Harper. And the troublemaker here is Lian.”
“And does Lian often abduct people in broad daylight?”
Roy leans back into a semi-trailer. “She did that thing where she just grabbed you, didn't she?”
Tom chuckles. “Yeah, but apparently there is a vile villain here who is cheating the populace, so I suppose I can shell out for a turn to see if I can get him to mend his wicked ways.” He slaps five bucks on the counter and grabs the hammer.
Like the seas parting before him, the people make way as he strides towards it. Then he looks at the kid behind the counter.
“I am going to do this once at a reasonable level of enthusiasm. It might be worth it to your bottom line if I am not given any reason to be more enthusiastic.”
The kid smirks. Barely, but he does manage it. Then Tom swings. It goes up, over his shoulder. Picking up speed until it hits, snapping the handle off as the bell is wrung loud and clear. The lights and noisemakers are just shutting off when the loud thudding of the head of the hammer announces that it has once again made it to the Earth.
“Grab what you want, kiddo.” Then he turns to Roy. “I think I am going to get out of here. Came mostly for the nostalgia and the food, and I've pretty much handled that. Take care, and good luck with the firebrand.”
The man nods, his smile creeping out as he sees his kid raking this attendant over the coals. “You don't know the half of it. And thanks, Tom. For being a good sport about things.”
Tom shrugs as he starts walking away.
“Honestly, sir? Just to be around a kid that doesn't try to hide when they see me, I'll call it a win. All day, every day.”
Roy's eyes gain just a touch of hurt understanding, though Tom misses it on his way to the park entrance.
>>
It's as he's making his way home that he hears the sirens. That's pretty common around Crime Alley. Not so much in it, but it happens there too and this one is. It's just getting towards dusk, but there is still plenty of light to tell what's going on. There's a fire somewhere in the Alley. One of these great heaps of concrete, stone, brick, and steel had enough of something in it to burn, and then the misfortune to go up.
It's about four blocks from the yard when he gets to it. Just another big, rotted-out warehouse. God only knows what might have been left in it that got it going. Drug lab. Old tar for roofing, maybe. Smelly and smokey, whatever it was.
Looks like they have it under control though, so after a while, he continues on his way. Another piece of Gotham finally gives up and dies behind him as he goes.
>>
Author's Note:
Roy Harper is Arsenal and was Speedy, Green Arrow's sidekick. Lian is (was) his kiddo with Cheshire, one of the many, many, many villainess types out there in DC canon that is all about the evil until baby-making time and then they are all cave-women and: 'Good daddy make baby-maker wet. C 'mere good daddy.'
I think technically the kid is dead because there was a point when it was decided that good heroes couldn't have nice things.
But fuck that. Just because, yeah. Fuck that.
Take care!