Damian's Sister

The Dynamic Duo

~ The Dynamic Duo ~

Daire and Clone were in a hotel room, curtains ajar. The door was locked tight, and a television provided background noise.

Daire finally moved her gaze, lowering the binoculars and handing them to Clone.

"He's not doing anything," Clone observed. He was in the same place he was ten minutes before, which was the last time he got a turn with the binoculars. He was so bored. He wondered how Daire managed to stay focused on something so dull. "Now would be easy to carry out the mission." He glanced at the sniper rifle laying proudly on the bed.

Daire, not glancing at him, knew what he meant. "That's not the way the League does things."

"Sometimes they do."

Daire sent him a stern warning look. "That is only to be used as a last resort. We came here for a job. Do not fire unless I give the signal, and for the love of God don't shoot me!"

Clone frowned. Why would she feel the need to say that? To him, it was fairly obvious. What kind of moron had she been forced to team up with in the past?

Daire left the room, her strides purposeful. She let the door slam shut behind her, letting it lock automatically by itself.

Clone lifted the rifle, setting the tripod and gun on the table. He may not have as many hours of practice as Daire, but he was always told his genetics gave him an upper hand for everything. He'd had enough practice to know he was a great shot.

Not perfect, like Daire (yet), but skillful.

He watched the lazy, fat man though the scope, finger extended passed the trigger, straight but ready. The target jerked his head towards the door, muttering something under his breath as he forced himself up.

He walked back into the room, this time followed by Daire. She was in a black outfit with a white apron. Excluding the apron, she did not appear to be one of the employees. The man didn't seem to care, letting her right into his room. She pushed a cart flooded with shiny plates, contents hidden by big domes.

He waved her off, saying something Clone couldn't hear. Clone felt his anger rise when Daire bent over some to appear to do some last minute preparations for the man's food. She was actually putting on her mask. The sick eyes stared at the rising skirt. Clone wrapped his finger over the trigger, wanting to pull it.

Then Daire turned around, a large knife in hand. The man didn't seem the least bit frightened. Surprised but not fearful. The man responded to her, so Clone assumed she said something. He couldn't see her clearly. She danced right along the edge of his sight.

Boldly, Daire strutted up to the man. She leaned forward, and the man's greedy eyes flickered to her bust. Clone clenched his teeth.

Suddenly, Daire's arm flew, and the man's eyes widened in pained shock.

Daire spun around, catching his stare. She sent a quick signal: it was time to leave. She pulled off her apron, hiding the bloody cloth under her arm. She bunched it up just right, hiding stains from prying eyes. She away walked casually.

Side mission: complete.

Time to focus on Batman again.