Identity

I had ample time to catch up with the cousins at the dinner; they were all taking more precautions. Grandma Alex and Grandpa Damian had tried to pressure all their kids to move back home, at least for awhile, but they'd all flatly refused. They'd agreed to up their personal security, and Grandma Alex had personally spoken to their landlords to get their ok to add some security systems to their apartments. The first was a wire screen over the windows that would fry anything bigger than a bird that came knocking. The doorframes were all reinforced to prevent being kicked in, and a smart lock was installed in the exterior door that monitored anybody going in and out; for example, they could see whether a repair technician had done the job and left, or if they were still inside. They also quickly got into the habit of scanning their apartments to make sure that no one had planted a listening or recording device somehow or had a microphone trained on the windows, but the electrified screens also would help fuzz that. Their pods were tricked out similarly to mine, and that was about all that could be done. Iris went to classes at a university where the campus was open to the public, and Miles worked in a building that had a lot of natural light and a security guard at the front desk, nothing more. But Iris was very proficient at Krav Maga and Miles had gotten a black belt in judo before he totally obsessed about ballet; they'd never let the training slack, so they were pretty well-protected. They refused bodyguards unless a defined threat was discovered, and that was that. Martha and Xander owned their own places and already had them well-defended; Martha worked at Valkyrie and Xander at Wayne, so security was less of a problem for them and they curtailed their social engagements somewhat. All Grandma Alex's descendants got the passive tracker in their hands. Parents did everything they could to make us safe, but I took it with a grain of salt. As the kidnapping attempt had shown, goons with a good plan and the muscle and equipment to make it happen could be surprisingly effective. I only took off the bracelet in the shower, though.

As a reward to myself for my compliance with restrictive terms set forth by my parents (I could go to school, work, and the tennis and rowing clubs, and that was pretty much it, no dates, no goofing off, no nothing) I'd registered for an online course at UAL over the Christmas break on fashion media styling where I'd learn the roles of a stylist working today, take an in-depth look at commercial styling in lookbooks, advertisements and ecommerce, learn how to interpret a style brief, make contacts using fashion PRs and social media networks, discuss pathways into styling, sourcing research both online and in print, decide what tools are needed in a styling kit and know where to buy them, and how to work on a professional studio photoshoot directing a team which includes a professional model, photographer and hair and makeup artist. I'd compile two looks using virtual reality and submit them through the school's homework portal as well as other assignments. The restrictions made it a lot harder to get my photography assignments done, but my parents talked to my teacher and I got assignments that were modified slightly. It still sucked.

Information on the Joker was frustratingly hard to come by, apparently. At least the few times I saw Uncle Richard, he was practically gnashing his teeth over the little they'd been able to discover. Old, run-down warehouses, safe haven for criminals for centuries, simply didn't exist anymore with the need for land so critical and every building had to have a purpose and be used. The development needed to accommodate the Returned and the baby boom that followed that significant event also really cut into previously undeveloped land, so the caves that the Joker had hung out in the first time were no longer viable. Grandpa Bruce had visited Poison Ivy, who was depressed that Harley had dumped her for the Joker and took out her heartbreak out on Batman. She wasn't a good source of information beyond her account of how Harley had been overwhelmed by the Joker's reappearance. She'd gushed about it to Ivy, then packed up her things and skedaddled. She had mentioned that she was looking forward to having a 'real family' with 'Mr J', which was why Ivy'd warned Jinx out of spite.

The thought of the damage those two could do to Jinx curdled my blood. I'd say it turned my hair white, but I was pressured to abandon my beautiful hair colors and resume a standard shade. I didn't see the point because it wasn't like my picture wasn't in the yearbook, people knew what I looked like, but Dad put his foot down, saying it made me an easily tracked target in a crowd. I still refused, but they brought in Uncle Tony, who said it would just be for the short term, and I caved. I couldn't help crying in the chair, although I reassured Gina that it had nothing to do with her talent. It just felt like all my hard-won advances were being covered up under a layer of brown dye. And house arrest. I did insist on not going back to mouse-brown, at least. I went with a darker brown that looked somewhat nicer. Dad had also pressed me to cut it, but I even refused when Uncle Tony asked. Dad made some noises about having it done anyway.

"Shame on you for even thinking about that," I said in a hard voice. "I can hold a grudge for a long time, and I have to give up enough as it is due to circumstances that I have no control over and that shouldn't involve me at all. I will end my cooperation if you even attempt to do that."

"Lys, somebody can grab your hair when it's long like that," Uncle Tony tried. "And it'll grow back."

"I said no," I snapped. "It'll take years to get it back to this length. I'm tired of having my life fucked up by quote unquote grownups who can't get their shit together. If Grandma Alex had just killed him cleanly rather than just hoping he'd die a painful death, none of this would be happening. His name wasn't on any prisoner list or list of verified dead, so you'd have thought people would have kept an eye out, but no. Medicine still can't heal a severed spine, so where was he getting the medical care? Has anybody been checking out possible hideouts for handicapped accessible features? He is one asshole with a bunch of minions and a mentally disturbed squeeze. Why can't any of you find him?"

"Watch your language, young lady," Dad said sternly.

"Why should I? You're doing a fantastic job," I said sarcastically. So I was grounded and sent up to my room. I'd asked how I could possibly be grounded since I was stuck in the house, and Dad had cut out rowing and tennis for a week. He'd wanted to do that anyway, not feeling like the clubs had enough security, and I'd handed him a reason. Dammit.

But at least my hair remained uncut.

I really missed my time training in the tanks; rowing was mentally calming as well as a whole-body exercise, and I'd been making really good strides on my start. John was forthright, telling me to hang on to my temper better. "You were the one chiding me about punching people," he pointed out one evening when we were doing homework in my room.

"I didn't hit anybody," I retorted.

"What would it hurt to go along and take a little off?" he asked. "It will grow back, and you've got inches to spare."

"You missed out on a lot when you were at Eton," I said after a moment when I wrestled my temper down. "I soft pedaled a lot. You know that I was pretty much a pushover; I thought that I had to appease my friends because I wasn't interesting enough to have friends on my own. Subconsciously, I felt like I had to buy their friendship." Yay, therapy. I went on to give details about the unvarnished fallout from my Toxic sixTeen party, what it had done to me. "So I was splat flat on rock bottom and anything I've achieved since then has been a big accomplishment. Then my ankle was broken. Did I ever tell you that there's forty seven pins in my ankle? Almost fifty pins holding about a five inch section of my tibia, fibula, and talus together. Four muscles were shredded, along with a bunch of ligaments. I can't dance anymore, and I miss that every damned day, the artistry, the expression, the athleticism, performance, practice, perfecting my expression. That part of the audience attention was for me. i was going to be the Sugar Plum Fairy, did I say? The costumes would have been magnificent, and it's a role I always wanted to dance. I wanted to try dancing professionally, even if I wasn't as good as Miles, who is? I like rowing and tennis a lot, but they're brute force sports. It took months where I couldn't even wiggle my toes to heal and I'm still not completely back to the strength that I had, more than a year ago. My flexibility has been permanently damaged from the way they stuck the soft tissues back together. And all that was just because somebody wanted money from my parents, it was nothing that I did. I've got friends now who aren't looking at me for what I can buy, a job that I love, hobbies, activities, and now all that's threatened because my grandmother didn't finish one simple thing before I was even born. Deri has more freedom than I do, because Alan takes her and Van to their activities and Alan has a lot of skills. I can't even control the way I look anymore, not completely. And that's a real problem. I finally got to a place where I liked the way I looked, comfortable in my body, finally come to grips with losing ballet, and now that's been compromised for an indefinite period of time. I'm stuck out here, and while this is a nice place, it's still confinement, again for an indefinite amount of time. I'm really tired of all the restrictions. And my parents are walking back from their agreement to let me do short courses at UAL again this summer."

"Come on, Lys," he said impatiently. "I get that it's been hard for you. Your parents are just trying to keep you safe. I know that Ms Alex regrets what's happened, that it's affecting you." I bit my tongue hard to keep my retort in. It pissed me off that he passed off everything that had happened to me as 'hard.' So Grandma Alex 'regretted' what happened. Why wasn't she doing something about it? She'd just left the country to check on a project in Turkey, and she hadn't even taken a body guard. She was always armed, but I also knew that she wasn't as in practice with her martial arts as she used to be. I turned my attention to my textbook instead of replying, and after a moment, John went back to work too. He didn't hang out after we were finished studying, and I didn't ask him to. I waited awhile, then went out the window to my spot on the roof. It took quite a long time, but eventually the stars soothed me enough that my mind could empty and I relaxed. The stars were crisp in the night, and out of habit I named the constellations I saw, recalling their myths as the Amazons had taught them to me. I didn't go in until I was freezing and had to blow on my fingers to warm them enough to climb back down.