XaiJu
Crississ
Crississ

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False Reflections: Issue #8

Thank you to my Patrons: SaffireSpirit13, TheButtGod, Zerak, 9milli9, Bishop7053, Stealthkug, Sgt. Rock, Helios, Grim343, Vincent Mason, aj0413, Blahmeh, Fade, Dr.Flembo, Dave, Sanjay, Jmatt890, roger nascimento rocha, Johnathan Rogers, Jeremy Hernandez, fausto escobar, Jerome, reeen, Kirov Briggs, Michael Thunder, Marco Sachse, Choir, shabbybook, Steve Jullian Perez, Meat 450, Siegfried_SGO, and Jles.

And a special thank you to Joe, you absolute madman.



If there is one thing Gotham has taught me, it’s that nothing in this life is sacred.

Anything can be taken from you at any time, in countless ways. Your life, your home, your future.

Any punk with a gun, a shady contract, or an agenda can take all of that without warning. And if this school trip has taught me anything, is that that truth doesn’t lose meaning just because you left Gotham.

Again, the honesty behind the corruption and scum filling the place is almost comforting, in an abused dog type of way. But I’m not talking about this to wax poetic and cry about how bad my hometown is- I just want to make it perfectly clear that in that shithole, you learned how to get even very quick.

My plan… was complex, for a rushed thing I came up with in the midst of an identity crisis, but in all actuality the only part of the plan I wasn’t completely sure of was… the very first part.

But considering how long Rachel was talking about the play she was going to see, and the fact that her love of the theater is the only honest thing she’d said to me the whole day…

Passing along my ticket and entering the dark theater itself, I felt someone’s gaze and found the oh so lovable rookie glancing at me from across the massive room. I didn’t let the smirk show in any way as I finally relaxed.

The make or break portion of my plan, after all, was whether Rachel would even be here in the first place. Her and whoever she’s working with are trying to rob me, but I had no clue whether they’d gotten what they came for and cut off her disguise.

There were several possibilities: they had what they wanted and left, they had what they wanted and dropped the disguise, they didn’t have what they wanted and left with what they got, or the option I was gambling on.

They had what they wanted but didn’t want me to associate the girl that had followed me around and ditched me immediately after I was robbed. It seems playing along with Rachel’s lies paid off, considering they must think I’ve fallen for the bait.

Or they want to keep a closer eye on me to take whatever else they think they can find. But I took care of that possibility thanks to the jacket I was wearing- which most people would assume is a teenagers attempt to look cool for the cute girl he just met, rather than a way to keep important items as close as possible without being obvious about it.

Bonus points for it being summer, and therefore extremely hot to make me seem dumber by bothering to wear this.

I made a show of looking around, passing my eyes over Rachel a few times to show off how gullible and unobservant I definitely was before finally spotting her, then moving over to her row… where there was actually a seat saved for me.

Apparently, despite the tickets coming with designated seats, it’s closer to an honor code sort of deal than you’d expect.

I slid down next to Rachel, and hid the simmering animosity I had towards her and the people she was working for, just to give her a relieved grin. “Oh, hey Rachel! Sorry it took so long to find you, I’d kinda thought you’d ditched me for a second.”

She stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the desperate simpering I was showing off- she apparently doesn’t dig blatant displays of confidence issues- only to smile shyly and flutter her eyelashes. “O-oh, don’t worry, I just showed up a bit early is all.” She smiled brightly, and I didn’t even attempt the eye roll she’d barely stopped.

Fluttering your eyelashes? Are you a femme fatale or a shy sweetheart? C’mon, at least remember your script!

Setting aside that flash of pettiness that seemed to be more characteristic of me than I’d realized, I scooched a bit closer and tried to talk quieter. “That’s fine. Hey, have you seen this play before?”

I began engaging in mindless smalltalk while I narrowed my focus on Rachel herself.

I knew without a doubt that Rachel didn’t take my Touch-Light, and from what I wasn’t feeling she didn’t have it on her right now either. I didn’t expect that- she may not be a good actor, but I knew more than anyone that capability in a single area doesn’t make you more or less competent elsewhere- but I needed to confirm just so I didn’t get tripped up by ‘hiding in plain sight’ or some nonsense like it.

So now, Rachel herself was not the direct culprit, but a direct link to whoever they are. A direct link that, at the very least, has some sort of connection to the other person.

Like, say, a phone number or any other communication device. Even if I can’t spot it with my bare eyes without drawing suspicion, I can make sure of one thing.

“Hey…” After the actors called for a fifteen minute break for water and such, I whispered over to Rachel. Her guard was down, her genuine enjoyment of the play combined with me no longer acting like a lovestruck teenager by virtue of not talking during the show causing her to relax far too much. “I know it’s a bit early, but…” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and shook it playfully. “Y’wanna trade numbers? I’ve… really enjoyed talking with you, and want to hear more about plays.”

I hated that the words I was saying weren’t complete lies. I hated that I actually enjoyed talking to her, respected her attempts at deception like a toddler copying their favorite superhero, and the fact I knew we’d never speak to each other again.

I wasn’t in love with her, or even had a crush. I knew she was beautiful, but she was working to steal from me, and I wasn’t about to let my dick lead me into trusting her.

So I pincered her with truth and lies, and forced her to do what she’s been doing this entire time- lie and get whatever she wanted from me.

“S-sure. Let me just…” Rachel pulled out her own phone and rattled off the numbers to me. I placed it in, gave her my own, and with an apologetic smile immediately dialed her. Her phone rang, and the apology on my lips was merely a disguise for my lead.

After all, while a phone number is good for little more than taking a call… a man smart enough to create hard-light interactive holograms would never need to take out his phone to remember his own fucking phone number.

Her assuming that my ‘genius’ didn’t extend to mindless memorization would be her mistake.

Y’see, I wasn’t using my phone just to register the (probably fake) number. I was using my phone’s Bluetooth.

Now, everyone and their grandmother knows how Bluetooth works as a wireless connection between devices. But very few people are aware that the newest versions of the Touch-Light are being made to operate on a similar system to Bluetooth so you don’t need to physically plug in the device to operate it.

Given that I want to squeeze as much money out of my inventions as possible, that ‘similar system’ is a completely remade version of the wireless connection I’ve been working on for the Touch-Light system in it’s entirety.

To test how the system works, I’ve regularly torn apart and rebuilt the Bluetooth systems in my own phone and relentlessly modified it for my own needs. Like, say, rummaging through nearby phones for all data? And, would you look at that, phone calls negate notification sounds while the system automatically deletes any warning messages from popping up.

The second I called her phone, the jig was up.

I know what you’re thinking- isn’t that crazy illegal and an invasion of privacy? In response, please remember they broke into my hotel room and robbed me, and the fact I don’t give a shit.

“Thank you, Rachel. I appreciate this.” My earnest words didn’t seem to distract her from my typing on my phone, but by then the play had already begun anew and I was free to work, the theater kid being immediately reimmersed in an attempt to escape my attempts at pursuing another ‘date’.

In the meantime, I was going through everything that was on her freshly purchased phone. GPS records, text messages, phone calls, Bluetooth Connections… and potential connections to my still unnamed Bluetooth knockoff.

Like, say, my own Touch-Light.

Combining all of these together, and all signs pointed to the thief/buyer being…

Bingo.



“I… had a good time tonight.” Rachel said after we all finished applauding the play (it made good background noise for my scheming ). The glow from the lights slowly being turned back on illuminated the fake head of hair she’d been wearing all night, the cutesy way she shuffled in place, and the… small glimmer of actual enjoyment in her eyes.

Huh.

“That makes two of us. Do you… need me to walk you home?” She chuckled at my words- not one of her fake little giggles, an actual laugh that made me realize her voice was deeper than she’d been portraying. Which was expected.

“Oh, don’t be silly. I’m a big girl, and I can walk across the street by myself.” She shook her head, before stepping closer to me and poking a finger to my chest. “Now, don’t be a stranger. Call me if you ever want to hear from a girl with class.”

And then she smiled- a smoky, seductive thing. Something… I couldn’t call it honest. But it came naturally to her, a way to take control of things.

“And if you ever want to talk to me, you’ve got my number too.”

With that, she walked off, a glimmer in her eyes that had nothing to do with the Rachel I’d been speaking to this entire time… and I officially had no idea what the fuck she was doing, other than completely giving up on her act.

I guess even geniuses can’t understand women. So, I focused on something I could understand- the location of the motherfucker who robbed me.

Through accessing Rachel’s phone for all the information I could need, I learned the various Bluetooth and wifi connections surrounding my Touch-Light, along with the coordinates. Combining that with a map of the city…

And I shouldn’t have even bothered looking around because of course it was in another fucking abandoned warehouse, because there’s a goddamn infestation of these shits in this fucking country. I swear, if someone had the forethought to destroy all abandoned warehouses for scrap, crime would drop a good forty percent due to the lack of variety criminals have for their bases.

God am I glad I’d brought a facemask with me to this play, cause I don’t think it’ll take them long to notice me heading that way.




In all honesty, the hard part was actually getting Rachel’s number in the first place. After putting on a disguise that emphasized how not Ryu or Ken I was, specifically by buying and wearing the most beaten down clothing I could find along with the facemask, I just… walked in and looked through the many boxes left lying around.

I found it, opened a hole in my new ratty jacket I then placed it inside of before sewing it back shut, and went about my merry way. Walking the streets of the city, and somehow after all of this… I still enjoyed my time here far more than any period of time back in Gotham.

Which is, obviously, the exact moment a limousine pulled up on the sidewalk I was walking on. In the middle of the night. Where no one was possibly looking.

One cautious glance was all I needed to realize that no matter what I couldn’t afford to walk off and pretend I didn’t see anything. Sharp green eyes stared at me as the window rolled down, and the face of Lex Luthor looked at me expectantly.

“Well? Get in, we don’t have all night.” The words were said politely, but I knew a demand when I heard one. I made a quick yet thorough examination of the car’s interior, before realizing I was a fucking idiot and used rule one of stranger danger.

Never go to a second location with someone you don’t know or trust.

“I’d rather walk.” I told Lex Luthor in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t buying into his bald-headed scheme. “We can talk here, or not at all.”

The man’s face was impassive, save a clearly manufactured downward slope of his lips, but in that instant I felt my intelligence shoot sky high to the point I felt like I had a headrush.

What- was it him?

None of the Bats gave me anywhere close to as large an increase to anything after I’d met any of them (Oh god I’ve met the entirety of the Batfamily), yet me making a clear and conscious decision was such a crazy uptick?

The self-made genius billionaire who made a company that can rival Wayne Enterprises saw me make a smart decision and my brain power skyrocketed. The expert vigilantes saw me act bravely, walk off poisons, and detect hidden people, and all of those abilities went up massively.

The answer struck me like a bolt of lightning.

Expertise. They were all extremely capable in the areas I had ‘tricked’ them in. Robin has been fighting criminals with superpowers for years, so getting him to believe a largely powerless meta has a power he doesn’t have is worth a lot more. Batgirl is a vigilante that’s part of a larger organization that specializes in stealth, so spotting her made me that much better at spotting hidden figures. Batman started a one-man crusade against the scum of Gotham, so he recognized what he saw as bravery in me.

And Lex Luthor is one of the smartest men of the modern day, and believes I’ve just made an extremely intelligent decision.

Facade gave me a bigger boost since they’re supposedly so much harder to trick in those fields than the average person. And it makes sense- tricking a complete moron into believing you’re a genius is much easier than doing the same with another genius.

“...A smart decision. Fine then, let’s make this quick.” Lex Luthor spoke up, a white haired woman left the driver’s seat as the billionaire exited the car. The ‘assistant’ was clearly dangerous- while Lex Luthor clearly believed in a healthy body being crucial to a healthy mind, he wasn’t anywhere near the physique needed to walk around without a bodyguard or weapon.

And something about that razor-sharp focus, blank stare, and protective posture when standing next to the man made it clear she would do anything for him. Time and time again.

“I want you to work for me.”



A/N: Got it done, time to deal with Lex’s bullshit and finally go back home.

Seems like Rachel got the honey-trap reversed right back at her. What caused it? Did she catch on to his awareness? Or was she just frustrated by a poor showing and was petty enough to risk her identity in pursuit of a second chance to pull the wool over his eyes?

…probably the second one.

Thanks for reading, hope you all enjoyed. Peace. 



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