[This is a work of fiction, written for fun and not for profit. All DC Comics-related characters are copyrighted by DC Comics; all rights reserved and no permission was granted to use them. This work may not be reprinted without the written consent of the author and must include this disclaimer.]
"BRRRRRRUM-RUM-RUM-RUM-RUM-RUM-RUM! Oooh-hoo-oooh-hoo-ooo-hoo! Get out the way! Get out the way!" The bright red fire truck rolls over every obstacle in the room---including my legs!---as my little girl, Lian, creates her own rescue scene. It's the first package under the Christmas tree that she opened up this morning and she hasn't quit playing with it yet. Can't say I've seen her as captivated with anything since the miniature bow and arrow set I fashioned for her birthday gift a couple of months back. Sure, she's only four years old, but there's nothing wrong with a little arrowsmith starting out early in life, and she's already got a great head start, what with having a bowman like me for a dad. That's about the only good thing my daughter inherited at birth, 'cause with her mom being a notorious international terrorist and her dad being a member of the hero-team, The Titans, this poor kid didn't have a chance in Hell of having a normal childhood.
"A fire truck, Roy?" comes the angelic voice of Donna Troy, the Wendy-Mother to this dormitory of Lost Boys-in-Spandex. "Why did you buy a fire truck for Lian?!" "Look at the smile on her face, Donna," I reply as I stretch out across the rug to form a toll bridge to block the gallant miniature fire fighters from reaching their destination. "She loves fire trucks! She's having a great time---hasn't put it down once this morning. Heck, she even took it to the table when she had breakfast." Donna smirks, shaking her head. "Hmmm...I wonder why? Could it be your overall macho influence on an impressionable little girl, you big goon?" I feign being hurt by her remark just as the fire truck bumps into my side and comes to a halt. "Beyond the fact that she happens to think trucks are cooler than dolls, there's certainly no reason she can't play fire fighter just 'cause she's a girl. There are lots of female fire fighters these days. And besides, her grandfather died saving the people of the Tachini reservation from a fire, so it's in her blood. The folks on the reservation are always telling her what a hero her grandfather was; she's just learning to be a hero, too."
"Ok! Ok!---but you just wait 'til she opens my gift," Donna says, grinning broadly. "I'm going to make sure that she's well-rounded, in spite of you, Daddy Dearest." "I hope she'll like my gift as well," announces a voice from behind her. I didn't even need to turn; I recognized the distinctive accent---a weird mix of a bit of a Russian tone, a bit Greek and a lot of Scottish burr---as belonging to our resident aquatic prince, the Atlantean hero called Tempest. "Uncle Garth! Uncle Garth! Look!" Lian calls to her favorite uncle as she demonstrates that the Fire Department never lets an obstacle stop them from getting to the scene of the fire...as she rolls her truck right over my stomach! "Ouch, Babycakes! That truck is heavy!" "Oh, all wight, Daddy; here, YOU hold it!" Leaving the scene of the disaster in favor of the warm hug waiting in Garth's arms, Lian jumps over my legs and runs across the floor to him, leaving her big red fire wagon parked on my chest. I should be insulted, but I'm more than happy that unlike my orphan upbringing and that of my friends here, my little girl has an extended family of loving and caring uncles and aunts available to her. Even better that they're all heroes who'd do anything on Earth to protect her; that gives me great peace of mind, for sure.
"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Lookit what Uncle Garth gave me! I'm a little mermaid!" Pile driving onto my stomach, Lian bubbles over with excitement about a handful of things Garth has just gifted her with: a beautiful string of natural pearls, a shimmering keepsake box made of what I guess is abalone, and a regal crown made of lacquered sea stars in graduated sizes. "Thanks, Fish Face; that was really nice of you, kiddo," I call out, suddenly falling under his shadow. "I'm glad she likes them...and DON'T call me 'Fish Face!'" Seems I can't remember a time when I didn't call poor ol' Garth something along those lines---but he's finally learning to put up a fight about it...dang it!
"Here Lian; why don't you open my gift, sweetie pie?" Auntie Donna entices her with a wave of a package from the Christmas tree pile-up. "Ooo-kay!" is about all Lian has time to get out before she starts ripping the package open with those little hands of hers that are just making the transition from little hunks of clumsy ham into the useful digits which will someday make her a great archer. Eventually she stops, sitting with a quizzical look on her face which turns into a frown she doesn't seem to want Donna to see. I didn't think she was trying too hard to open the plastic wrapping under the Christmas foil wrap, and it didn't take too long to discover why that was. "Here---let me help you get this open," Donna offers. As the box is opened, something rather unfamiliar to Lian pops out: a ten inch tall fashion doll. "See, Lian?" Donna coos, "She comes with three changes of outfit and a little comb for her hair, too!"
Lian, ever the little lady, tries really hard to look pleased and kisses Donna on her cheek, adding a moderately cheerful "Thank you, Auntie Donna." Picking up her new doll, she crosses over to me to show it off with as small amount of enthusiasm as she can muster up. Poor kid; I know she was really hoping for a hunting knife, like I was at that age. "Guess you can add her to your game, huh, Princess?" I try to cheer her. "She's not dressed for play, Daddy. She's wearing a business suit." Something about that thought causes her face to suddenly light up and she jumps over my torso and grabs her fire truck again. Suddenly, the clanging alarms and the howling sirens effects flow freely from my baby's imagination, and with glee she drags the truck off of my chest and rolls it onto the floor...and right over her new dolly!
"Lian, that's not nice," I whisper to her, hoping that Donna's feelings aren't hurt. "It's ok, Roy, honestly; I guess she just doesn't like it," Donna says in a hush, looking just a bit hurt. "You said she didn't like dolls, but I thought that was just you talking." Trying to smooth out her ruffled feathers, I remind Donna, "She likes SOME dolls, like her Sacajawea dolly. She must like this one 'cause she's put it into her game!" Lian never stops playing, but we finally stop to listen to her and find that she is, indeed, having fun in her own way.
"Help! Help! Oh help!" Lian calls out in mock terror, her wee cartoonish voice alerting us to her play. "Errrr...errrr...bang!" "Oh help---save me, Superman!" "Oh, are you playing 'Superman,' honey?" I ask as I sit up to watch. "Yep, Daddy," she nods, "The firemen were driving on the way to the big fire, and there's that silly Lois Lane standin' out in the middle of the road and got her goofy self all runned over! Now she need Superman to come help get her out from under the truck, Daddy!" A chorus of giggles comes from the trio of Garth, Donna and a third onlooker, the just-woke-up-with-bed-hair-after-an-all-night-sleuth-fest, Nightwing, AKA Blüdhaven police officer Dick Grayson. "Guess we'd better watch what we say about the hero world around her, huh?" Dick whispers to the rest of us. "She may repeat the wrong thing to the wrong set of pajamas and cape!"
I reach over to the couch and hand off the little plush Superman doll this reporter named Clark Kent gave to her one day when we were visiting Metropolis. My baby's mom, Jade---she uses the criminal moniker "Cheshire"---had just been apprehended, and she asked to see Lian just once before being taken to a maximum security facility. Some "Lord High Muckamuck" decided that one of the reporters from the Daily Planet would be present, a fact I never agreed to and didn't like. I don't like my daughter being exposed to the press or the public, especially when her mother is involved. Anyway, Kent seemed like a nice guy and was pretty concerned about how all this would affect Lian. They have Superman dolls as souvenirs in their shop at the Daily Planet---being that they're the paper who dubbed Big Blue as "Superman" in the first place. When the ordeal was over and the tearful Chesh had waved goodbye to our crying daughter and was led away, Kent pulled the Superman plush dolly out of his pocket and promised Lian that the flying hero would keep an eye out to protect her in place of her mom if she needed help. I was really grateful that this thought comforted my baby in her time of need, and the little plush Superman has never been far from her side ever since.
Lian makes her Superman fly in over the scene of carnage with a hail of swooshes and soaring motions. "I save you, Lois!" she cries in a shower that came out more like "Lo-ith." In her little hand, Superman swooped in and saved the day as expected, pushing the truck over with a mere nudge of his head. "There, Lois---you be okay now!" the little Superman says as his big flat hand pats the slim, trim Lois fashion doll on her perfectly coiffed head.
"That's all fine if Superman's free, Lian," giggles Dick as he kneels down next to her, coffee mug in one hand and a doughnut in the other. "But what would happen if he's busy and someone else had to come in to save her?" "Hey, Bat Boy," I chide him; "Don't be stifling my kid's imagination, okay?" "I'm just ASKING, Speedy!" he snarls mockingly, just aching for me to pop him one from calling me by a name I abandoned long ago for the much more savvy codename Arsenal. "That's easy," Garth joins in. "There are other heroes capable of saving her. It doesn't take super-human strength just to pull one busy-body reporter out of the path of a truck. Let's see... Who else would be good?" I roll my eyes and smirk at Garth. "Well, I guess we could always call up your buddy Aquaman and he could bring an octopus to pull the truck off of her!"
"No, Daddy! That's not right 'cause octopusses would get sick out of water!" Lian stops me, waving me quiet. "Ok, then, Miss Smarty Pants!" I say as I tickle her. "What would happen if Wonder Woman was there instead of Superman?" "Oh that's easy, Daddy! Wonder Woman...she can lift up the truck...and then... and then she say, 'You better not be in the street no more! You better look where you going!'" I have a feeling if Wonder Woman waggled a finger at me the way Lian mimicked her doing so, there's no way I wouldn't think better of my actions the next time around.
"Well, if Wonder Woman could do it, then what about Auntie Donna, here? She's strong too," I ask, winking at our former Wonder Girl. Lian screws up her little face in exaggerated thought. "Ok..." Lian prepares her answer, “Auntie Donna can push the truck over too, but then she’d find out the fire truck was took over by a crook so then she use her powers and make him confess. Then the bad guy go to the slammer big time for A.D.W! Homeboy goin' up the river for twenty-five to life 'cause he's a Neapolitan Sundae!” "A what?" asks Garth, clearly confused. "Three strikes felon, Garth. Automatic ticket back to the Big House," I clarify with all the enthusiasm of the deadpan Joe Friday of Dragnet fame. Impressed by her own inventiveness, Lian falls over in a fit of giggling as Donna beams with pride, clasping her hands over her head in a victory cheer.
"What if the Batman saved her instead?" Garth asks Lian as he happily discovers the joy of hot cocoa and warm German Butter Stollen on a chilly Christmas morning. "That's easy!" Lian calls out to him, lowering her eyebrows and voice to attempt the sullen tones of the Dark Knight. "He just stands over her and tells her she wouldn't get in to so much trouble if she weren't so damn nosy! Then he radios the paramedics and takes off!" "Sounds like your dad all right, Bat Boy!" I laugh, scooting up onto the couch. "Bet he'd figure the whole thing was for the best if she did end up under a fire truck! One less reporter asking stupid questions and bothering him." "Yes," Garth adds, "And besides, he wouldn't want to hang around anyway; he'd probably have a date." "Naaaaaahhh!" comes a chorus of unbelievers. "No way, Flounder!" I laugh. "Ain' no way the Bat's dating!" Dick's nose turns up and he shakes his head knowingly. "He gets more action in a week than you've gotten in a year---money is definitely Date Bait!" "Hey! No dirty talk in front of my 'etai yazi'!" I yell in the Dineh language of my Navajo caretakers, covering my "little girl's" ears to protect her from objectionable references. "Ok, move on. Who else can we nail?"
Garth's Elizabeth Taylor-like purple eyes roll upward and a broad smile breaks out over his eternally babyish face. "O' Roy---y'just love to pick on your betters, don'tcha? Now, we know the Batman is quite the honorable one, and he would not leave Lois Lane to her fate, even if it would cheese off Superman...which it would..." "Says you, Gillhead! What?! People don't ever do an 'Animal House' down where you come from?" I remark in fake horror as I flop back onto the floor to help Lian assemble her little crowd of onlookers for her playtime disaster. Apparently, the witnesses to the Pulitzer Prize winning journalist's rescue are to be a teddy bear, a talking Bugs Bunny plush toy, five Lego figures and her pet turtle, Fred, the latter seemingly resigned to nap through the entire hair-raising ordeal. Reaching over to Garth, I clasp a hand on his knee and shake vigorously. "Well clutch the pearls, Davey Jones, but I just betcha the two things ol' Batsy would love to do is loose off a few rounds at The Joker and waggle a middle finger at the Big Blue Boy Scout! Right, Bat Boy?" I flash a toothy smile at Nightwing, who, as always, isn't amused. Duh!
Dick waggles a middle finger in my direction and walks toward the kitchen, saying, "Whatever, Red. Your mentor was a few bricks shy a full load too, or don't you remember?" His voice trails off and the room he's left lulls into an uncomfortable quiet. Garth and Donna look at each other and then switch to surveying the carpet. Hey, Garth, Dick and I could write a book on mentor troubles, after all. Yeah, I remember what a crazy ol' coot my mentor was, all right, but it was dirty pool for Dick to take a swipe at the deceased. And here I thought the Bat-family credo was to always play fair. The Green Arrow definitely had a screw loose here and there, but I always tried to separate that from his alter ego, Oliver Queen, my mentor and guardian. Ollie was no saint either, but I always thought of him as being better put-together upstairs than the Batman is in either of his personae. Guess that's why I'm grateful my kid has all of the Titans to rely on as extended family; we may have our faults too, but all in all we're a pretty well put-together bunch in spite of our kooky mentors and insane upbringing.
Donna reaches down and scruffs up my hair, jarring me out of my memories and back into the moment. Meanwhile, Garth reaches across me to give Lian a little building he's been skillfully constructing of Lego pieces. She squeals with delight, puts it down on the floor and promptly makes with the crash noises necessary to illustrate that more disaster has struck. Her fire truck hops an invisible obstacle and plows right into the Atlantean constructioneer's efforts, but Garth takes it in stride. "What happened, darling?" he asks with that gentle, lilting voice of his. "Superman didn't throw the truck, did he? I don't think he would do that." Lian cocks an eyebrow at him, scoffing at the idea. "No! That was Lobo! Bad, bad ol' Lobo! You go to the 'Time Out' corner now, mister!"
"Hey, this kid is GOOD at this game!" I can't help my fatherly pride swelling at how clever my child is, just as Garth and Donna nod in agreement. Donna looks thoughtfully at Lian, then states, "I can't help notice that you haven't had one member from OUR team try to save Lois except me, Lian. You're not being disloyal, are you?" Lian looks around at us thoughtful. "Ok, Titans play too...if I get a cookie...please?" "I think that can be arranged, Pumpkin," Dick says, handing a decorated sugar cookie to her. "Now, how about Uncle Nightwing getting in on the action, huh?"
Lian laughs as she munches away, her adventurous mind already winding away in full gear. "Ok, ok! Uncl' Nightwing gets there first an' he swing in on a batarang just before she gets whacked by the truck an' they swing way way up to the top of a building an' he swings away to save some other pretty girl." Dick grins, justly proud of his timely, thrilling rescue. "And then what happens to Lois?" Lian signals that she's already moved on to the next rescue; with a wave of her hand, she adds, "Awwww, she just takes the stairs down."
The room erupts with laughter; suddenly Lian has no shortage of cookies. Good thing it's a few hours 'til dinner time! Garth leans forward to her, plying her with a snowflake-shaped treat. "What about The Flash? What would he do?" "Oh, that's easy!" she offers, "Uncle Wally, he'd vibrate through the truck and carry her out the same way. Then he'd put her down and say, 'Hey babe! How 'bout a date, honey?" We all look at her with blushing faces. "Hey there, Squirt---Wally’s married now!” I correct her. "He'd better not be trying pick-up lines out or Linda'll tell on him all over the evening news." Lian waves away the interruption. "Oh yeah...ok, then he folds his arms and says, 'Glad to be of service, Ma’am.'" I can't help it; I could just see Wally in a situation like that! "Oh, that'll make her feel really old. Hahahahaha---I like it!"
"Quiet, Daddy!" Lian says, trying to cover my mouth as I pretend to munch on her fingers. "Hey, what about Green Lantern, kid? What if he got there first?" The kid is fast on the draw. "Naw!---she's wearing yellow today, Daddy! All he can do is watch!" "Yeah, but the fire truck isn't yellow, etai yazi." "DADDY! It's MY story!" "Ok ok ok, bossy!" "I know you are, so what am I?" "I know you are, so what am I?" "Nah-uh, Daddy! I know you are, so what am I?" Before I can reply, Donna jumps in. "Ok! Ok! Let's move on, children!" I note that she looks directly at me when she says that. She's so cute when she's being demonstrative...! "Now," Donna begins anew, "What would Tempest do to save Lois, Lian?"
"Oooo, we make Uncle Garth the hero!" Lian rises to the challenge. "Uncle Garth send a whooooosh of water and wash the truck off of her!" "Yeah, but wouldn't that wash her away too?" "No Daddy, 'cause Uncle Garth's gonna put a big bubble around her, like this!" and Lian puffs up her cheeks to illustrate. Hmmm...hadn't thought about that. "Can you really do that, Fish Face?" I ask him, puzzled at the notion that our formerly meek little Aqualad might indeed now be pretty darn powerful. "Errrrr....apparently so, if Lian says I can. And DON'T call me 'Fish Face,' Fuzz Face." Turning to Lian, he adds, "What would happen if your daddy rescued her?"
“Daddy use a Armor Piercing Arrow and shoot it into the truck and then take the other end and tie it around the bumper of a bus and that would pull it off. Then he say, "Hey baby, how 'bout a date?" Well that's more than I can take, especially with Dick and Garth holding their breaths and Donna erupting into fits of laughter at me! "Hey---Lois Lane is too old for me! 'Course she ain’ bad lookin', but I got way better pick up lines than Wally, and don't think I didn't notice that you picked the same one, Lian!" Donna looks huffy and sniffs the air, declining to comment---since she's been the object of several of my better pick-up lines---giving Lian plenty of time to add, "Seeeeeeee, Daddy!" Dick and Garth can't hold back any more, and frankly neither can I; in short order, we all begin to laugh hysterically.
Dick, ever the tactician, calls for a "point of order." "But Lian; how would all of us know that Lois is in trouble? I figure she's got some communication device which alerts Superman---or so you'd think from all the times he's dashed in to save her. But how would the rest of us know that she needed to be rescued?"
Lian rolls her eyes, incredulous at Nightwing's lack of vision. "Now THAT'S silly, Uncle Nightwing! OWACLE! She knows everybody's business! You know that!"
We again howl with laughter at this "Mighty Mite" who knows a bit too much about the superhero world, including about the secretive Oracle, best friend and magic messenger to many a hero-in-need. I pick up my baby girl and hug her tightly, marveling at how she never fails to lighten our hearts and challenge our minds. "Ok, ok, Princess; you got us! But take out the part where I ask Lois out, ok? I'm more professional than that on a mission..." Donna and Garth beg to differ, but my darling daughter and I ignore them, far too caught up in our own sparring match to take any notice. Lian protests, "You're not the boss of me and it's MY story, Daddy!" "Am too, Lian!" "Am not, Daddy!" "Am too!" "Am not!" "Am too!" "Am not!" "Am too!"
Throwing up their hands in surrender, Donna and Garth decide it's time to look into getting dinner together and leave us to it, waving Dick to join them in the kitchen. Donna takes one glance back at father and daughter as we play. Lian runs her fire truck up and down my back as I lay flat on the floor, still professing my place as her authority figure just as she dispels any such belief. Looking to Garth and Dick, Donna shakes her head, and in a bemused tone, she adds, "I'm always left wondering which of them is the child in that relationship..."
----DB
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