SchizoAuthoress | Vonn Loren (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
schizoauthoress) wrote2012-06-30 01:06 am
schizoauthoress) wrote2012-06-30 01:06 am
FIC: Verity [DCU; Match, Titans East]
Title: Verity
Author: D.L.SchizoAuthoress
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Teen Titans v3 #43-46
Warnings: I fanwank away the things that bother me; alternate interpretation of canon
Word Count: 2950
Summary: He has grown up, and put away childish things. Others have not.
Note: If you were confused about the Match in "Feint", this is a prequel and should explain some things.
Word of the Day: furcate
verb: 1. To form a fork; branch.
adjective: 1. Forked; branching.
Verity
If there was one thing Match excelled at, it was hiding. If he hadn't been -- and if he hadn't been absolutely ruthless in his quest for survival -- he would have died on the Alaskan tundra like his hundreds of decant-ready identical clones. So when the Agenda was taken down by the combined forces of Young Justice and the Justice League, Match knew full well what the better part of valor was.
("He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day," has a habit of echoing in his mind at times like that -- it's a voice whose source he's not sure of, but he'd wager it belonged to one of the many Agenda scientists responsible for his creation. It is perhaps a childish rhyme, but most verbal mnemonic devices are simple for purposes of easy recall. And it performs its function, reminding him of when it would be best to retreat.)
He fled north and stole civilian clothes, breaking into a series of automated tellar machines for the cash he'd need. Then Match continued his retreat over the Atlantic, not only because he'd fit in with the population of the Scandinavian countries -- so far as appearance, and his language downloads -- but because there was a small satellite network dead zone where he could hide out and get his bearings without the threat of reprisal looming over his head. He stayed there, in a scrubby little forest bordered mostly by farmland, for about three days before he was sure that no one was searching for him. Then he headed to more urban areas.
Match had not been programmed for this particular contingency -- the people behind the Agenda were arrogant, and did not think that they could be so thoroughly wiped out that they would not be able to reassert control of the Match units.
'Unit...' Match corrected himself as he thought his situation over. He looked at himself in the mirror. Because he had deduced his overall appearance was too unusual, even for his new location, Match was in the process of dyeing a light ash-blond tone into his hair. He mused silently, 'Perhaps not even that. The Agenda is gone -- there has been no contact, and the Contessa no doubt has other plans in place that do not require its resurrection. I... no longer have any masters.'
It was a rather ignoble place to have such an epiphany -- the bathroom in a private room of the NMKY in Oulu, Finland -- but, Match surmised, the location did not matter so much as the realization.
****
It wasn't difficult to decide what to do. Match wasn't like Superboy; he didn't consider himself a hero, but he knew that living a normal life was out of the question. He started by volunteering his services for certain heists -- those that wouldn't attract a lot of metahuman attention, setups that were generally victimless (at least in the civilian sector) -- in order to get the word out on what he could do.
About a month went by before someone contacted him on a hit -- a metahuman thug who'd gotten too big for his britches, and started gathering people to make a territory grab. It was far too risky to fight his target directly, because there were always others around him, and too many dead bodies was counter to what his client wanted. Instead, Match made sure it looked like the thug had expired naturally -- he used his TTK to trigger an aneurysm in the circle of Willis, which led to a hemorrhagic stroke. None of the metahuman's stupid little followers could realize what was going on in time to even try saving his life.
The jobs came in steady after that, and Match settled down to a comfortable, largely quiet life.
Only once had he been interrupted with a reminder of his past, when he'd been caught in a shower of the chemical "Joker Rain" and gotten his brain hijacked by the Joker's special brand of insanity. It was a brief episode, and one which Match preferred to imagine had never occurred -- this despite the fact that Superboy and Wonder Girl being romantically linked had no doubt began once the blonde twit confessed her feelings to the right super-clone. (Match was not at all charitable when it came to estimations of intelligence for Young Justice members, seeing as they had been so soundly and easily deceived, even when he wasn't trying.)
Other times, when the crisis of the month had reached global levels, as it sometimes did, Match would busy himself with protecting what little corner of the world he occupied at the moment -- never venturing back into a territory where he'd run into his progenitor or the original Kryptonian. He tried to tell himself that it was simply survival that kept him on the fringes of their awareness; he tried to convince himself that he could not afford a confrontation that would lead to incarceration.
The self-delusion was a small one and one of the few he told himself -- he didn't try to pretend that his mercenary activities made him a good person, though he tried to adhere to certain standards -- but, as usual, Superboy brought his world crashing down.
This time, he did it by dying, and Match (who never really knew how to feel) wasn't sure if he even hated Superboy anymore, if he ever truly had.
****
Match is not in hiding, not from the 'villainous' factions of the world. He is not surprised by the fact that Inertia -- in a way, one of his fellows, for being a clone of a Young Justice member -- had discovered his current base of operations. He doesn't appreciate that Inertia has come without making arrangements, nor that Inertia is not alone.
"This is unexpected," is all he says. Inertia grins widely -- and Match automatically catalogs how unhinged the expression makes the clone look -- at him.
"I know you hate it, Match." Inertia replies, leaning forward in his chair. His companion doesn't move, only tracking Match with her green, green eyes. "But this isn't a social visit. I've got a job offer for you."
"There are proper channels to go through, Inertia," Match says blandly. He steps inside the large, Spartan room and shuts the door, crossing to the desk near the floor-to-ceiling windows. He only keeps this place to meet with clients. It is another minor annoyance that the two of them have thrown open the blackout curtains he keeps over the windows.
"I'm not humoring your little game at being an assassin, Match," Inertia sneers. He gets to his feet and zips toward Match. Match turns, and they come face to face.
"I am perfectly serious."
"So am I, and so is this." Inertia has to go to his tiptoes in order to try meeting Match's eyes, even though Match isn't floating, and he still fails at holding eye contact. The blond speedster goes back down onto his heels. "Deathstroke is putting together a team to attack the Teen Titans. He wants you to join up. He needs you for a psychological whammy on Superboy's pals. You know, their old buddy, back from the dead!"
There is no outward sign to hint at the turmoil that last comment rocks him with. Match's heartbeat and breathing remain steady, and there is no flicker of reaction in his grey eyes. But the reminder of his refusal to choose a side during the conflict that ended with Superboy's death is not welcome at all.
Match says, clearly and steadily, "We are more than what we were made for. You may be content to continue your pointless rivalry with your progenitor, Inertia, but I am not."
The words seem to shock the other blond clone, because a moment passes before he licks his lips and responds with a smirk, "If you're afraid, you can just say so, Match." His yellow eyes flick toward the redheaded woman as he takes a step back. "Come on, babe, we'll find someone who isn't a coward to--"
Match objects to the use of the term 'coward' -- with his fist. The punch -- nowhere near his full strength -- impacts Inertia's jaw and sends him flying backward to hit the far wall at the back of the room. The redhead, Sun Girl if his intel is correct, turns to face Match and he can see her hands starting to glow. A burst of telekinetic energy from his eyes sends her skidding back in the direction of Inertia, though her trip is far more gentle than the speedster's.
"I am not a coward." Match takes a step forward, sending his TTK through the floor to wind around Inertia's body and hold him down. "I choose my battles, that is all."
"You're afraid! Superboy beat you a couple times and you ran away!" Inertia snarls.
Match frowns deeply, and his TTK constricts around Inertia, making the speedster gasp with pain. "I am strong enough and quick enough to tear you apart before your girlfriend can even react. I am strong enough to say 'no'." He pulls, just slightly, with his TTK grip and watches as Inertia's eyes flare wide with panic. Then he releases the other clone. "Now, run to your master, little cur, and tell him that I said no."
Inertia glares and gets into a crouch. Match lets out a breath in anticipation of an attack...
"Come on," Sun Girl says, putting a hand on Inertia's shoulder, "This is a waste of time."
Inertia gives Match a poisonous glare, but he subsides at Sun Girl's words. Match does not breathe until they've left, does not move until he cannot hear their heartbeats in his city anymore.
****
Match keeps on his guard after that, refusing most jobs as he waits for the response that he knows is going to come. Deathstroke will not take well to being refused.
The ambush is -- as all ambushes are, by definition -- unexpected, but not entirely unanticipated. He'd known it would happen, just not when. Match is driven to his knees when someone jumps on his back and throws an arm across his chest, and he hears the distinctive high-speed stride of a speedster approaching half a second after that. His elbow, thrown back in a sharp blow to the gut of his attacker, actually aches with the impact, but there is no reaction. He expands his TTK aura to break the attacker's grip and shove him off -- then Match takes to the air, scanning for Inertia.
There is a sharp snap of leather cloth going taut in the air -- at the same time, Match has an impression of a dark shadow detaching from a wall to leap at him. Then red light fills his vision and gravity reasserts itself. Though he has been robbed of his flight, his heightened spacial sense is innate, and he lands -- catlike -- on his feet, in a crouch to absorb the shock. The red light does not dim or intensify, remaining constant. Another attacker (or perhaps just the same one as before, Match is unsure) darts in toward him from his right, and Match goes from a crouch to a sweep, continuing the spiral motion to get to his feet --
And then there is pain, as a blade parts his red-sun-weakened flesh across his left side -- but that wakes other programming in Match, that which had lain long dormant. He lashes out with a fist to Batgirl's chest, anticipating the block she puts up. His arm goes sideways, hard bone striking a weak point of her wrist. It isn't quite enough to make her drop the glowing blade, but he thinks he might have heard a hiss of pain beneath her full-face mask.
Match springs backward and assesses the situation. There is a one-armed man in green on his left; Batgirl with her twin red-sun-generating blades directly in front of him, and Inertia buzzing on his right.
'He who fights and runs away...' starts up in Match's head. The clone huffs and tries to cut off that train of thought with a muttered, "Shut up, Dad." He knows that he's outmatched right now. He knows that he ought to retreat. But he won't. Despite all his programming, he remains, at his core, a clone of Superboy. Perhaps it should bother him more, but he sees what worrying about the unchangeable has done to Inertia over the years.
Instead, in a loud, clear (if somewhat monotone) voice, Match says, "No means no, Deathstroke."
"You've left me at quite a loss, Match."
Match grits his teeth, hating his depowered state for allowing Deathstroke to sneak up undetected. But otherwise, he shows no outward sign of his displeasure, and merely continues to mock the metahuman with, "Oh, I'm so sorry. But I'm fresh out of damns to give."
"There's no one else who can do what I need you for." It isn't quite a protest, but Deathstroke doesn't sound pleased to admit this.
"There's always someone else," Match retorts, feigning boredom. "You are just too stupid to think outside the box."
"And you are stupid enough to try provoking me when you're at such an obvious disadvantage," Deathstroke says. His blades gleam with the reddish light as they are drawn. Match retreats a few more steps, and then Inertia buzzes uncomfortably close.
Match shakes his head to banish the sound of Inertia's snickering. He growls low in his throat before saying, "I'm not one of the heroes you can bring to heel. I will kill all of you."
Those words bring more laughter from Inertia, until Match reaches out with his TTK and grabs for the speedster's feet. Inertia has no time to do anything but yelp before he is hurled right into Batgirl's blades. Match darts toward Deathstroke, and the green-clad man lunges to stop him, as anticipated.
Match flips forward out of his reach, swinging up one leg to catch the man under the chin with his foot. There is more resistance than Match calculated for, but it takes less than a heartbeat to boost the force of his blow with tactile telekinesis. His opponent falls backward, unable to regain his balance and landing hard, but the move leaves Match open to several blows from Deathstroke, including a stab that he can't quite turn away in time, that catches him high on the right side. Match hits the ground hard, and the unfamiliar flare of pain steals his breath for a moment.
He surges to his feet and aims an uppercut at Deathstroke. When the older metahuman blocks the blow, as expected, Match telekinetically yanks Batgirl forward. The female assassin has only just extricated herself from a struggle with Inertia -- who is slightly bloodied and scowling by now -- and for a second, Match sees her cowled face, surprise evident even through the leather cloth. Then she impacts Deathstroke, making the Terminator stumble forward -- right into an unseen TTK punch to the sternum. Match follows up with a flurry of invisible telekinetic blows to the both of them.
Match takes another jump backward, trying to preserve a proper distance for longer range fighting than the assassins could engage in. "Do you get the message now, or do I have to start breaking bones?"
Inertia speeds over to attack, and Match spins to dodge, hammering a fist against the other clone's ribs. He is lucky that Match's strength has been diminished by exposure to red sunlight, because that means the blow leaves only a bruise instead of a shattered ribcage. Inertia makes a startled wheezing sound and loses his footing, crashing into the green-clad man -- who manages to keep his feet this time, and steadies the speedster.
"Besides," Match says calmly, as if the interruption hadn't happened, giving Batgirl -- or rather, her bloodied weapons -- a significant glance, "you've got everything you need."
For a moment, Batgirl looks like she's going to say something, and then she follows his gaze. Then she looks at Deathstroke's own blood-stained sword and gives a little shrug. Somehow, that communicates enough to break their stalemate. Batgirl wipes off her blades and returns them to their lead-lined sheaths, letting Match breathe a near-inaudible sigh of relief.
Deathstroke's parting words sound amused, "Thank you so much for your help, Match."
****
It is not a surprise when the underground starts to whisper reports of Deathstroke's villainous new "Titans East". And it is not a surprise that there are mentions of a 'Super-clone' in their ranks. He only has to break two wrists -- on the same person -- to put a stop to speculation on the clone's origins, at least within his presence. Match is not loved, but he is feared and respected and that is good enough for his purposes.
He knows that, if the truth were ever revealed to the Teen Titans, his course of action would be seen as unforgivable. But only for the pain that he caused them... not because they cared about him. Not because his present state of health is being misrepresented by a dying-by-degrees Bizarro-type clone, not because his pain or his death would matter. But only in light of precious 'Conner' and his tragic death are Match's actions bad...
'It does not really matter,' Match tells himself, 'because your sins are numerous already.'
And if this burns his bridges, if this makes it near-impossible for him to set foot on American soil again, well...
Match is his only name. At least it is a fitting one.
*-*-*-*-*
Author: D.L.SchizoAuthoress
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Teen Titans v3 #43-46
Warnings: I fanwank away the things that bother me; alternate interpretation of canon
Word Count: 2950
Summary: He has grown up, and put away childish things. Others have not.
Note: If you were confused about the Match in "Feint", this is a prequel and should explain some things.
Word of the Day: furcate
verb: 1. To form a fork; branch.
adjective: 1. Forked; branching.
Verity
If there was one thing Match excelled at, it was hiding. If he hadn't been -- and if he hadn't been absolutely ruthless in his quest for survival -- he would have died on the Alaskan tundra like his hundreds of decant-ready identical clones. So when the Agenda was taken down by the combined forces of Young Justice and the Justice League, Match knew full well what the better part of valor was.
("He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day," has a habit of echoing in his mind at times like that -- it's a voice whose source he's not sure of, but he'd wager it belonged to one of the many Agenda scientists responsible for his creation. It is perhaps a childish rhyme, but most verbal mnemonic devices are simple for purposes of easy recall. And it performs its function, reminding him of when it would be best to retreat.)
He fled north and stole civilian clothes, breaking into a series of automated tellar machines for the cash he'd need. Then Match continued his retreat over the Atlantic, not only because he'd fit in with the population of the Scandinavian countries -- so far as appearance, and his language downloads -- but because there was a small satellite network dead zone where he could hide out and get his bearings without the threat of reprisal looming over his head. He stayed there, in a scrubby little forest bordered mostly by farmland, for about three days before he was sure that no one was searching for him. Then he headed to more urban areas.
Match had not been programmed for this particular contingency -- the people behind the Agenda were arrogant, and did not think that they could be so thoroughly wiped out that they would not be able to reassert control of the Match units.
'Unit...' Match corrected himself as he thought his situation over. He looked at himself in the mirror. Because he had deduced his overall appearance was too unusual, even for his new location, Match was in the process of dyeing a light ash-blond tone into his hair. He mused silently, 'Perhaps not even that. The Agenda is gone -- there has been no contact, and the Contessa no doubt has other plans in place that do not require its resurrection. I... no longer have any masters.'
It was a rather ignoble place to have such an epiphany -- the bathroom in a private room of the NMKY in Oulu, Finland -- but, Match surmised, the location did not matter so much as the realization.
****
It wasn't difficult to decide what to do. Match wasn't like Superboy; he didn't consider himself a hero, but he knew that living a normal life was out of the question. He started by volunteering his services for certain heists -- those that wouldn't attract a lot of metahuman attention, setups that were generally victimless (at least in the civilian sector) -- in order to get the word out on what he could do.
About a month went by before someone contacted him on a hit -- a metahuman thug who'd gotten too big for his britches, and started gathering people to make a territory grab. It was far too risky to fight his target directly, because there were always others around him, and too many dead bodies was counter to what his client wanted. Instead, Match made sure it looked like the thug had expired naturally -- he used his TTK to trigger an aneurysm in the circle of Willis, which led to a hemorrhagic stroke. None of the metahuman's stupid little followers could realize what was going on in time to even try saving his life.
The jobs came in steady after that, and Match settled down to a comfortable, largely quiet life.
Only once had he been interrupted with a reminder of his past, when he'd been caught in a shower of the chemical "Joker Rain" and gotten his brain hijacked by the Joker's special brand of insanity. It was a brief episode, and one which Match preferred to imagine had never occurred -- this despite the fact that Superboy and Wonder Girl being romantically linked had no doubt began once the blonde twit confessed her feelings to the right super-clone. (Match was not at all charitable when it came to estimations of intelligence for Young Justice members, seeing as they had been so soundly and easily deceived, even when he wasn't trying.)
Other times, when the crisis of the month had reached global levels, as it sometimes did, Match would busy himself with protecting what little corner of the world he occupied at the moment -- never venturing back into a territory where he'd run into his progenitor or the original Kryptonian. He tried to tell himself that it was simply survival that kept him on the fringes of their awareness; he tried to convince himself that he could not afford a confrontation that would lead to incarceration.
The self-delusion was a small one and one of the few he told himself -- he didn't try to pretend that his mercenary activities made him a good person, though he tried to adhere to certain standards -- but, as usual, Superboy brought his world crashing down.
This time, he did it by dying, and Match (who never really knew how to feel) wasn't sure if he even hated Superboy anymore, if he ever truly had.
****
Match is not in hiding, not from the 'villainous' factions of the world. He is not surprised by the fact that Inertia -- in a way, one of his fellows, for being a clone of a Young Justice member -- had discovered his current base of operations. He doesn't appreciate that Inertia has come without making arrangements, nor that Inertia is not alone.
"This is unexpected," is all he says. Inertia grins widely -- and Match automatically catalogs how unhinged the expression makes the clone look -- at him.
"I know you hate it, Match." Inertia replies, leaning forward in his chair. His companion doesn't move, only tracking Match with her green, green eyes. "But this isn't a social visit. I've got a job offer for you."
"There are proper channels to go through, Inertia," Match says blandly. He steps inside the large, Spartan room and shuts the door, crossing to the desk near the floor-to-ceiling windows. He only keeps this place to meet with clients. It is another minor annoyance that the two of them have thrown open the blackout curtains he keeps over the windows.
"I'm not humoring your little game at being an assassin, Match," Inertia sneers. He gets to his feet and zips toward Match. Match turns, and they come face to face.
"I am perfectly serious."
"So am I, and so is this." Inertia has to go to his tiptoes in order to try meeting Match's eyes, even though Match isn't floating, and he still fails at holding eye contact. The blond speedster goes back down onto his heels. "Deathstroke is putting together a team to attack the Teen Titans. He wants you to join up. He needs you for a psychological whammy on Superboy's pals. You know, their old buddy, back from the dead!"
There is no outward sign to hint at the turmoil that last comment rocks him with. Match's heartbeat and breathing remain steady, and there is no flicker of reaction in his grey eyes. But the reminder of his refusal to choose a side during the conflict that ended with Superboy's death is not welcome at all.
Match says, clearly and steadily, "We are more than what we were made for. You may be content to continue your pointless rivalry with your progenitor, Inertia, but I am not."
The words seem to shock the other blond clone, because a moment passes before he licks his lips and responds with a smirk, "If you're afraid, you can just say so, Match." His yellow eyes flick toward the redheaded woman as he takes a step back. "Come on, babe, we'll find someone who isn't a coward to--"
Match objects to the use of the term 'coward' -- with his fist. The punch -- nowhere near his full strength -- impacts Inertia's jaw and sends him flying backward to hit the far wall at the back of the room. The redhead, Sun Girl if his intel is correct, turns to face Match and he can see her hands starting to glow. A burst of telekinetic energy from his eyes sends her skidding back in the direction of Inertia, though her trip is far more gentle than the speedster's.
"I am not a coward." Match takes a step forward, sending his TTK through the floor to wind around Inertia's body and hold him down. "I choose my battles, that is all."
"You're afraid! Superboy beat you a couple times and you ran away!" Inertia snarls.
Match frowns deeply, and his TTK constricts around Inertia, making the speedster gasp with pain. "I am strong enough and quick enough to tear you apart before your girlfriend can even react. I am strong enough to say 'no'." He pulls, just slightly, with his TTK grip and watches as Inertia's eyes flare wide with panic. Then he releases the other clone. "Now, run to your master, little cur, and tell him that I said no."
Inertia glares and gets into a crouch. Match lets out a breath in anticipation of an attack...
"Come on," Sun Girl says, putting a hand on Inertia's shoulder, "This is a waste of time."
Inertia gives Match a poisonous glare, but he subsides at Sun Girl's words. Match does not breathe until they've left, does not move until he cannot hear their heartbeats in his city anymore.
****
Match keeps on his guard after that, refusing most jobs as he waits for the response that he knows is going to come. Deathstroke will not take well to being refused.
The ambush is -- as all ambushes are, by definition -- unexpected, but not entirely unanticipated. He'd known it would happen, just not when. Match is driven to his knees when someone jumps on his back and throws an arm across his chest, and he hears the distinctive high-speed stride of a speedster approaching half a second after that. His elbow, thrown back in a sharp blow to the gut of his attacker, actually aches with the impact, but there is no reaction. He expands his TTK aura to break the attacker's grip and shove him off -- then Match takes to the air, scanning for Inertia.
There is a sharp snap of leather cloth going taut in the air -- at the same time, Match has an impression of a dark shadow detaching from a wall to leap at him. Then red light fills his vision and gravity reasserts itself. Though he has been robbed of his flight, his heightened spacial sense is innate, and he lands -- catlike -- on his feet, in a crouch to absorb the shock. The red light does not dim or intensify, remaining constant. Another attacker (or perhaps just the same one as before, Match is unsure) darts in toward him from his right, and Match goes from a crouch to a sweep, continuing the spiral motion to get to his feet --
And then there is pain, as a blade parts his red-sun-weakened flesh across his left side -- but that wakes other programming in Match, that which had lain long dormant. He lashes out with a fist to Batgirl's chest, anticipating the block she puts up. His arm goes sideways, hard bone striking a weak point of her wrist. It isn't quite enough to make her drop the glowing blade, but he thinks he might have heard a hiss of pain beneath her full-face mask.
Match springs backward and assesses the situation. There is a one-armed man in green on his left; Batgirl with her twin red-sun-generating blades directly in front of him, and Inertia buzzing on his right.
'He who fights and runs away...' starts up in Match's head. The clone huffs and tries to cut off that train of thought with a muttered, "Shut up, Dad." He knows that he's outmatched right now. He knows that he ought to retreat. But he won't. Despite all his programming, he remains, at his core, a clone of Superboy. Perhaps it should bother him more, but he sees what worrying about the unchangeable has done to Inertia over the years.
Instead, in a loud, clear (if somewhat monotone) voice, Match says, "No means no, Deathstroke."
"You've left me at quite a loss, Match."
Match grits his teeth, hating his depowered state for allowing Deathstroke to sneak up undetected. But otherwise, he shows no outward sign of his displeasure, and merely continues to mock the metahuman with, "Oh, I'm so sorry. But I'm fresh out of damns to give."
"There's no one else who can do what I need you for." It isn't quite a protest, but Deathstroke doesn't sound pleased to admit this.
"There's always someone else," Match retorts, feigning boredom. "You are just too stupid to think outside the box."
"And you are stupid enough to try provoking me when you're at such an obvious disadvantage," Deathstroke says. His blades gleam with the reddish light as they are drawn. Match retreats a few more steps, and then Inertia buzzes uncomfortably close.
Match shakes his head to banish the sound of Inertia's snickering. He growls low in his throat before saying, "I'm not one of the heroes you can bring to heel. I will kill all of you."
Those words bring more laughter from Inertia, until Match reaches out with his TTK and grabs for the speedster's feet. Inertia has no time to do anything but yelp before he is hurled right into Batgirl's blades. Match darts toward Deathstroke, and the green-clad man lunges to stop him, as anticipated.
Match flips forward out of his reach, swinging up one leg to catch the man under the chin with his foot. There is more resistance than Match calculated for, but it takes less than a heartbeat to boost the force of his blow with tactile telekinesis. His opponent falls backward, unable to regain his balance and landing hard, but the move leaves Match open to several blows from Deathstroke, including a stab that he can't quite turn away in time, that catches him high on the right side. Match hits the ground hard, and the unfamiliar flare of pain steals his breath for a moment.
He surges to his feet and aims an uppercut at Deathstroke. When the older metahuman blocks the blow, as expected, Match telekinetically yanks Batgirl forward. The female assassin has only just extricated herself from a struggle with Inertia -- who is slightly bloodied and scowling by now -- and for a second, Match sees her cowled face, surprise evident even through the leather cloth. Then she impacts Deathstroke, making the Terminator stumble forward -- right into an unseen TTK punch to the sternum. Match follows up with a flurry of invisible telekinetic blows to the both of them.
Match takes another jump backward, trying to preserve a proper distance for longer range fighting than the assassins could engage in. "Do you get the message now, or do I have to start breaking bones?"
Inertia speeds over to attack, and Match spins to dodge, hammering a fist against the other clone's ribs. He is lucky that Match's strength has been diminished by exposure to red sunlight, because that means the blow leaves only a bruise instead of a shattered ribcage. Inertia makes a startled wheezing sound and loses his footing, crashing into the green-clad man -- who manages to keep his feet this time, and steadies the speedster.
"Besides," Match says calmly, as if the interruption hadn't happened, giving Batgirl -- or rather, her bloodied weapons -- a significant glance, "you've got everything you need."
For a moment, Batgirl looks like she's going to say something, and then she follows his gaze. Then she looks at Deathstroke's own blood-stained sword and gives a little shrug. Somehow, that communicates enough to break their stalemate. Batgirl wipes off her blades and returns them to their lead-lined sheaths, letting Match breathe a near-inaudible sigh of relief.
Deathstroke's parting words sound amused, "Thank you so much for your help, Match."
****
It is not a surprise when the underground starts to whisper reports of Deathstroke's villainous new "Titans East". And it is not a surprise that there are mentions of a 'Super-clone' in their ranks. He only has to break two wrists -- on the same person -- to put a stop to speculation on the clone's origins, at least within his presence. Match is not loved, but he is feared and respected and that is good enough for his purposes.
He knows that, if the truth were ever revealed to the Teen Titans, his course of action would be seen as unforgivable. But only for the pain that he caused them... not because they cared about him. Not because his present state of health is being misrepresented by a dying-by-degrees Bizarro-type clone, not because his pain or his death would matter. But only in light of precious 'Conner' and his tragic death are Match's actions bad...
'It does not really matter,' Match tells himself, 'because your sins are numerous already.'
And if this burns his bridges, if this makes it near-impossible for him to set foot on American soil again, well...
Match is his only name. At least it is a fitting one.
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