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Teen Titans
Times Past, "1971"
False Suitby mcmaenza
In the tiny kitchen of a small but cozy flat on the south side of London, a shiny teapot whistled loudly, and steam shot into the air. "All right, I heard you already," said a sharply dressed man with a full head of wavy red hair. "No need to make a bloody racket, eh?"
The man poured the dark steamy liquid into a floral patterned tea cup that sat on a matching saucer. Next to those on the tray was a similarly patterned plate underneath a warm scone. After putting the teapot back on the stove, the man carefully carried the tray into the living room and set it down on the small wooden table before the flowered sofa. The clock on the fireplace mantle chimed eight. "Strewth, I've almost missed the beginning I have."
The red haired man flicked on the black and white television and settled in on the sofa to watch a documentary on the BBC. He was about half way through with his snack when the front doorbell chimed. "Bloody hell, can't a bloke enjoy his evenin' tea in peace?"
The man crossed the room, pulled aside the lace curtain and peered out the front door glass. "Hmm, wonder what they want?" he said as he undid the lock. Opening the front door, he addressed the two uniformed men. "What can I do for you, mates?"
One of the darkly dressed bobbies glanced down at his pad. "You Neil Richards?"
The red haired man nodded. "Yeah, that'd be me. Something I can help you with?"
The other bobby grabbed Neil's wrist and clapped one end of a pair of handcuffs onto it. "Mr. Richards, you're under arrest for the murder of Preston Blackwater."
Neil Richards' jaw dropped in surprise. "What?"
***
On the thirteenth floor of a city skyscraper, four young teens stepped off the elevator with suitcases in their hands. "Man, that was one crazy scene," the red haired Roy Harper said. "I could sack out for a week after that."
"For once, we're on the same vibe," the colored youth named Mal Duncan agreed.
The red haired Lilith Clay and the dark haired Donna Troy looked at one another and laughed. "You boys would jump at any chance to catch some Z's," Donna joked.
An older man dressed in a conservative business suit sat waiting for them in the main room. "No time for resting, my young charges," he stated plainly.
"Mr. Jupiter," Lilith exclaimed. "Were you waiting for us?"
"Indeed I was, my dear," the wealthy businessman answered. "I knew you would be returning from Elford University at any moment. I wanted to catch you before you put your suitcases away. We need to make another trip immediately."
"Where we jetting to next, Daddy-o?" Roy asked.
Loren Jupiter didn't bother to comment on the young man's slang. His work with teens over the years gave him a familiarity with how they spoke, even if every generation had their own way of expressing themselves. "We'll be taking my jet to England, London to be specific."
"Far out!" Mal said. "London is a happening scene. Folks there are right on when it comes to understanding race relations. The rest of the world could take notes from them." He threw a dirty look in Roy's direction.
"You talking about me, Mal?" Roy snapped.
Donna put her hand on Roy Harper's shoulder. "Chill, Roy! We're all friends here. We've got to work in harmony." She always did have a calming influence on his hot temper.
Mr. Jupiter nodded. "Donna is correct. You all will need to work together on this mission, for we're faced with a very interesting mystery."
After packing their bags once more and heading to the private jet, the mentor and his teen charges were on their way across the Atlantic Ocean. The five sat comfortably in the back section of the plane. "What would the mystery actually be, Mr. Jupiter?" Lilith asked.
"It's a rather intriguing situation, Lilith," the man replied, "one I heard about earlier today on National Public Radio. It seems a man named Neil Richards has been charged for a murder he insists he did not commit. He was just recently released on parole, and he believes that someone is trying to put him back behind by bars by framing him."
"So what makes this a case for the Teen Titans?" Mal inquired.
"Neil Richards has a connection to the Titans in a way," Mr. Jupiter smiled. "The team actually encountered him before, when he went by the name of the Mad Mod."
"The Mad Mod!" Roy squawked. "Say, Donna, wasn't he that fashion fop that you, Bird Boy, Flasheroo and Gill-Head fought a couple times?" She nodded. "So what's the deal? Why are we helping that square out?"
"Need I remind you, Mr. Harper, of the recent situation you all found yourselves in," Mr. Jupiter lectured. "I'm sure you remember what it felt like when Dr. Arthur Swenson was murdered and the Titans were believed responsible, especially when your own mentors in the Justice League blamed you all for his death as well." The four sat quietly, and even Roy Harper had been humbled by the words. "I thought so."
Donna Troy broke the silence. "We'll do our best to get to the bottom of the mystery and reveal the true killer."
Loren Jupiter nodded. "I had no doubt that you would."
***
Neil Richards was dressed in prison grays, both the cut and material of the clothing made him even more uncomfortable. He sat across the table from Loren Jupiter in a British precinct; four teens stood in the back of the room at one side and an armed guard stood near the entrance.
The man accused of murder had a sullen look on his face. "I've been telling everyone who will listen that I didn't do it," Neil said. "But it seems that you're the only bloke who'll even give me half a chance."
"One can't succeed in business without being able to read people," Mr. Jupiter admitted. "And I have this feeling that you didn't kill Preston Blackwater."
"Damn right I didn't. I'm a big admirer of his work I am. Blackwater is one of the top designers on Carnaby Street today. His designs are brilliant. I could never have any ill will 'gainst someone with that much style and class. 'Sides, I'm not a killer! Sure I had been in prison, serving time for smuggling and for trying to pinch the Queen's sceptre. But I've seen the error of me ways I have. Part of the reason I was out on parole was because I was a model prisoner. I realized that life behind bars was not the scene for me. To murder someone in cold blood, I just don't have the stomach for that!"
Loren Jupiter said, "According to the reports in the news, Blackwater was killed at his design studios here in London. He had been there preparing for an upcoming fashion show when someone came up behind him and strangled him with a silk scarf. And the only clue leading to you, Mr. Richards, was a colorful business card with the name 'The Mad Mod' on it."
"Right, mate," Neil nodded. "Obviously someone bloody well set me up to take the fall for this. I didn't do it!" He slammed his fist on the table in anger. "I've been keeping my nose clean, honest!"
The guard began to move, but Loren put his hand on Neil's. "Keep a cool head, my friend," he said, using a bit of the slang from his young charges. "I believe in your innocence, and the least I can do is insure you get a good lawyer." They concluded their talk, and the businessman and his four young friends left the building.
"So you actually believe this guy?" Roy asked. Their benefactor simply nodded.
"Back off, Roy!" Mal exclaimed. "Why you always judging books by their covers?"
Roy got back into the colored youth's face. "Maybe I'm just not so quick to trust everyone. Trust and respect is something that's earned."
"Boys, enough!" Donna said as she split the two apart. "If we're going to get to the bottom of this mystery, you two have to stop butting heads! Now, where should we start?"
"Might I suggest the other fashion designers for the upcoming show?" Lilith offered.
"You getting some kind of vibes or something, girl?" Mal asked.
"Nothing definite. Just something a bit stronger than a hunch."
Roy half rolled his eyes; he still wasn't that comfortable with Lilith's so-called precognitive flashes. "While we were listening to the guy, I was doing a bit of brainstorming myself."
"There's a first," Mal interjected.
Roy caught Donna's look and let that comment go by unanswered. "I was thinking of who'd be the most flipped out if the first Mad Mod quit cold turkey -- his former gang of henchmen. I say that's who we check out first."
Donna thought for a minute. With both Dick and Wally back in the States, she was the de facto team leader by seniority. She tried to put herself in Dick's shoes, thinking of how he would attack the situation. Finally, she spoke. "Both Lilith's and Roy's ideas are pretty solid. We should split up and see if they check out."
Mr. Jupiter had been standing off to the side, quietly watching his charges' discussion. He was pleased with their chosen course of action. "That sounds like a good plan. I'll see to getting Mr. Richards an attorney; I have a few contacts in town. Keep in contact with one another and good luck."
***
It had gotten cloudy rather fast, and the rain was beginning to fall when two of the teens arrived at their destination. "You sure this is the place?" Donna Troy asked. She looked across the street to Hatie's Cross, a seedy looking pub near the waterfront. From its appearance, the building was rather old and had a couple boarded up windows. Still, patrons could be seen staggering out the doors, even though it was only mid-afternoon.
"According to Richards, this is where his former henchmen are known to hang loose," Roy Harper replied. "Might as well drop in and ask around. Beats catching our death of cold in this rain."
Donna gestured towards the front door. "Lead on, sure-shot." When they entered the dark but crowded pub, Donna felt as if all eyes were upon them. The two stood out on so many levels: being obviously under age, and dressed slightly better than most. She felt even more self conscious as there did not appear to be any other women in the establishment. She pulled the belt strap on her short raincoat tighter and leaned in to her friend. "You better do the talking."
It took a few moments, but Roy was able to clear them a path to the bar through some smelly patrons. "Hey, bar-keep!" he called out, attempting to get the attention of the rugged man slinging drinks. He tapped his knuckles on the bar loudly. "Bar-keep!"
The man finally made his way down to the end of the bar where Roy stood. "You old enough ta drink here, sonny?" he asked. "You barely look like you even shave." A few of the men on stools nearby chuckled.
Roy shook his head. "I'm not here to wet my whistle, pops. I'm looking for two guys who are supposed regulars here. Are Alfie Groll or Brucie Lawrie around?"
Someone behind Roy grabbed him by the shoulder firmly and spun him around. It was a rather burly man with a scraggly beard and crooked teeth. "We don't like strangers nosing around 'ere, junior!" He swung his large fist towards the red haired youth's jaw.
Roy instinctively ducked, letting the fist slam into the bar.
"Owww! 'old still, you!" the man exclaimed. He swung his fist once more at the boy, but it was stopped short when he was grabbed by the wrist. "What?"
Donna Troy held his wrist firmly until she was satisfied his momentum had been completely halted. "Cool it, man," she said. "There's no need to blow your jets." The young Amazon then released his wrist and wiped her palm on the material of her coat. "We're just looking for those two guys to rap."
The brawler mumbled, "I ain't seen 'em," and skulked off before his mates could give him a hard time about being stopped by a mere girl.
Roy turned back to the bartender and the men around the bar. "How about you guys? Any of you got the poop on Alfie or Brucie?" He glanced back and forth, trying to see if any of the facial expressions revealed something that the silent, negative nods were not. He then turned back to Donna. "Maybe I should let you shake a few of them down."
"No need to do that, mate," said a male voice from the side. A man approached the two teens. "I can tell ya where those blokes have gotten off to."
"We're all ears," Donna said.
He lead them over to a small vacant table. "The two ya be looking for signed up with Her Majesty's Navy. They shipped out 'bout two weeks back for Australia."
"You sure?" Roy asked.
"Sure of me own mum's name," the man replied. "Saw them off, I did."
Donna turned to Roy and nodded slightly. Then she addressed the man. "Thanks for your help." The two teens departed the pub. "I hope the others are having more luck than we did."
***
About ten miles away in an office building in downtown London, the other members of the teen quartet were following another lead. "This the right place, Lilith?" the colored male asked as he opened the stairwell door.
"I think so, Mal," answered the red haired woman. "You know my 'hunches' aren't always so crystal clear, but I think we're on the right track." The two started down the second floor hallway.
"I hope so. I really want to show up that loudmouth Harper."
"What's with you two anyway? You're like oil and water sometimes." Lilith then added, "No offense meant."
Mal stopped before an office door. The name stenciled on the glass said Christi O'Dour Designs. He turned back to Lilith. "None taken. I'm not sure exactly what it is with Roy and me. It's like he's always quick to bust our chops because we're the newbies. Not part of the original Fab Five." Mal paused. "Or perhaps Roy's a bit of a bigot, treating me inferior because the color of my skin."
"Oh, I doubt it's that," Lilith exclaimed.
"Maybe, maybe not. Either way, it just gets me so hot sometimes!" Mal turned back to the door and grabbed the round knob. "Yowww!" He pulled his hand back from it quickly.
Lilith shot him a curious look. "What is it?"
"It's hot! The knob!" Mal motioned for her to stand back. He then threw all of his weight into the door. On the second try, the door gave way and fell into an inferno. Flames danced around the entire office inside.
They stepped back to distance themselves from the heat and smoke. Lilith paused for a second. "Mal, I hear something. It sounds like a muffled voice coming from inside."
The colored youth removed his jacket and put it over his head. "Stay here!" Mal leapt into the flames.
The fire surged out, so Lilith turned away. As luck would have it, she noticed a figure rush by the end of the hall. Hold on there, she thought to herself as she chased after the fleeing person.
Inside the raging fire, Mal crawled close to the floor. Despite his best efforts, the smoke was starting to get to him. "Hello? Where are you?" he called out, trying to pinpoint whoever was in the fire. After a few moments, he managed to locate someone in one of the alcoves.
A beautiful blond woman had been gagged and bound to a wooden chair with a number of leather belts. Mal quickly removed the gag and went to work releasing her from her confinement. "Thank you, thank you!" the woman gushed.
"Save those for later," Mal responded. "We still have to get out of this hot spot!" He took her hand, crouched down and began to lead her out.
Meanwhile, the figure had a lead on Lilith when she reached the stairwell. "Stop where you are!" she said as she leapt for the railing and vaulted down to the next landing.
The figure's green cloak whirled about as he knocked her away before she could land on him. Lilith began to tumble, but she grabbed the edge of the material firmly in hopes to pull him down with her. Instead, the cloak came free, and the man continued to run once more. Before she could rise to her feet, he was already out the door to the street.
"I blew that one," Lilith said as she clutched the cape. She then stopped for a second to analyze the garment, with the label on the inside providing her with a revelation. "Ah ha."
A voice from the stairs called down to her. "Lilith! Lilith! I saved Ms. O'Dour!" Lilith quickly hurried up to meet them halfway. "We better ring the fire department before her entire studio is destroyed."
Lilith replied, "We better ring the others too! I think I've got our killer couturier!"
***
In a secluded area in back of the stage, French designer Millard Heuse met with his red haired assistant in preparation for the upcoming fashion show. "Looks like that O'Dour chick survived the fire we set," Jacque, the tall male assistant, remarked. "Maybe I should've offed her directly like I did Blackwater."
"We do not need to worry though, mon ami," Heuse answered. He was in his mid-thirties with straight dark hair. "The fire you started managed to destroy a bulk of her collection. Her role in this show will be minimal at best." The designer unpacked another outfit, a turquoise patterned mini-dress, and hung it on the rack with his other creations.
"So you convinced the backers to go on with the show?"
"Oui! Tonight, my fashions will take the spotlight and will be the talk of the Fall season. That will guarantee my business to skyrocket."
"Bag that idea," said a male voice from the side. Mal stepped out from behind a curtained area, with Lilith, Donna and Roy following close behind. "It'll be hard to push those glad rags from the big house!"
Millard Heuse stuttered. "What... what are you talking about?" He wasn't sure exactly how much the newcomers had overheard.
Lilith smiled and held up the green cape she had acquired the day before in one hand. "Between this little item your assistant left behind at Christi O'Dour's..." She then held up a small tape recorder with a powerful built-in microphone. "...and your own confessions on this tape, I think the police will have plenty of evidence to put you in jail."
"Yeah," Roy added. "When you're done doing time for murder and arson, these clothes of yours will be coming back in style, for the second time."
"Get them!" Heuse yelled. His assistant reached inside his coat pocket, pulled out a hand gun and began to fire at the quartet of teens.
"I've got this!" Donna Troy said as she stepped before her friends. Even though they currently did not wear their costumes, she still wore her Amazonian bracelets. Just as she had been taught by Diana on Paradise Island, Donna easily reflected the six fired shots. "Obviously they've underestimated the power of youth." The assistant looked dumbfounded as his gun ran out of bullets.
"Good work!" Mal commended. "Now to take out the trash!" He vaulted forward and nailed Jacque with a right hook to the jaw. The man fell to the floor. "That's how we did it in Hell's Corner."
Millard Heuse, meanwhile, used the distractions to make a run for it. Lilith saw him bolt across the room. "He's getting away!"
"No he won't!" Roy started to pursue the man and grabbed one of the heavy wooden hangers from the rack as he passed. He cocked his arm back, then jerked it forward in one smooth motion. The hanger flew from his hand in a fast, whirling motion and squarely hit the French designer on the back of the skull. Millard Heuse dropped to the floor. "Just call me 'Captain Boomerang'."
"I gotta admit it," Mal said. "Even without a bow, you've still got a good aim." He firmly patted Roy on the back.
Roy half smiled. "You're not so shabby in the fighting department yourself, brother."
Donna was pleased to see the two trying to be civil towards one another. She found some rope, offering it to Mal and Roy so they could bind the two men. "We've got all the evidence we need," she said.
Lilith had been nosing around the work table area and opened one of the drawers. "I've got one more item to add," she said as she produced a small card from the drawer. It matched the same one that was left at the scene of the Blackwater murder -- one inscribed with the words 'The Mad Mod'.
"I guess you could say we've got this case all sewn up," Roy quipped. The other three groaned at his bad joke.
***
Outside the London jail, five people were waiting when Neil Richards stepped out into the fresh air. "Ah, freedom! Feels good to be back in me own clothes, it does." He turned to the Americans. "And I owe it all to you and your friends, Mr. Jupiter." He offered his hand in thanks.
The businessman smiled and shook Neil's hand. "My pleasure, Mr. Richards. It does my heart good to see an innocent man go free." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card. "Here, take this."
"What's this?" Neil asked as he examined the card. "Your telly number in the States?"
"Yes, it is," Mr. Jupiter replied. "I wanted you to have it, just in case you ever got into further trouble and needed assistance. You're a bright man with a lot of potential in front of you."
Neil Richards was a bit speechless, and a tear was forming in the corner of his eye. "Thanks, mate. You don't know 'ow much this means to me." The man tipped his head and headed off down the street.
The four teenagers gathered around their mentor. Donna spoke up for the group. "That was a very nice gesture, Mr. Jupiter. You've given him another chance."
"That's just the way I am," Loren Jupiter responded. "What good is all my money if I can't help out people, especially those are trying to recover from a bad break? Hopefully he has reached a turning point, and our help will lead him down to a better path in the future." The four youths nodded, knowing first hand of the man's generosity and support. "Time for us to head home."