Half Pint — Roleplayer Guild

Zatanna scrolled through her phone before finally placing the phone into the dashboard holder and tapping it with her finger.

"Next stop the big apple - New York, New York."

"Ooh, I've always wanted to hit the big city. Any chance we can catch a show on broadway while we're in town?"

"Not quite. We've got our work cut out for us on this one. This time we're looking for two guys rather than one. Martin Stein and Ronnie Raymond."

"It's a good job we invested in the RV then, things would really have became a squeeze in that old rustbucket of yours."

"We! 'We' he says! You didn't invest a dime!"

"Hey, look my money is all tied up in stocks and bonds!"

Swamp Thing sat at the back of the RV, barely listening to the back and forth at the front of the vehicle. The sheer size of him almost tipping the large vehicle at the back. His body barely moved, like a tree had grown through the couch at the back, but his eyes were practically glued to the window.

Outside trees passed by, one after another forming a wooden army standing tall and proud side by side. The further away they got the harder it was to hear them. Soon the trees were numbering fewer and fewer, replaced by petrol stations, buildings, and bars. The natural world losing the battle against the artificial.

Eventually all that was left between the concrete and tarmac was small patches of grass, trampled by sneakers and boots - the only care coming when the sky decided to cloud and rain. Occasionally a solitary tree would stand, the green of its leaves dulled and its roots tangling with wire and metal. A once proud soldier turned into a slave for the enjoyment of its masters.

He glanced to the two at the front of the car. He felt like he had to trust them, they were the only ones who seemed to care enough to start a crusade against the ones who did this to him. He felt intrinsically different to all those around him, and yet linked in some way. He didn't know where the nature stopped and the human started. To tell the truth, before he met them he'd never even considered it.

"There were a few close calls there, Ronnie."

"You're telling me, prof." Ronnie's legs dangled over the edge of one of New York's taller rooftops as he held a hot dog carelessly in his hand. "First week on the job and I'm already face-to-face with a demon."

"Nevertheless, you handled yourself well. A lesser man would have run screaming."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly doing it alone. I wasn't the only new guy either. Plus, I had you to keep me from getting roasted alive."

Inside the Firestorm Matrix, Martin Stein sat comfortably at his ethereal desk, one leg crossed over the other. When he'd first met Ronald Raymond long before either of them imagined fusion, flame, or flying - he'd never have guessed the lazy kid who treated his Alchemax internship like a free pass to college would show this much bravery. And now? Ronnie was out here saving the city, and somehow staying mostly composed while his entire life detonated around him.

Ronnie lifted the hot dog, took a chomp at the wrong end, and immediately paid for it. The sausage rocketed out the back like it had been launched from a cannon, spiralling downward until it exploded across the pavement a hundred feet below.

Ronnie jumped up and hurled the remaining bun after it.

"Aww, come on! Why can't anything ever go right? This is the worst week of my life!"

Perhaps Martin had been too quick to praise. As if on cue, the low clouds above them finally burst open, dumping rain in sheets. Ronnie stood there, soaked instantly, arms limp at his sides.

"Perfect. Just perfect."

It had been over a week since the attack on New York. Being a city that felt like the epicentre of the superhero world they were better prepared than most to rebuild, repair, and most importantly - move on. 

The rust coloured RV had drifted into town, and had a hell of a time navigating the bustling, crowded roads of New York. Many took out their phones to snap a picture of the weird sight of the strange vehicle sandwiched inbetween yellow taxi cabs on all sides.

The three had no luck in finding either Ronnie Raymond or Martin Stein. All leads led to brick walls after their disappearance - now they were playing their last hand, last hope at finding either of them.

Zatanna gingerly knocked on the door, Patrick standing behind her having morphed his body to appear as if he was wearing a black suit and shades - an attempt at looking 'official' that somehow only made him look less official than if he'd been wearing his red spandex.

The door cracked open. A middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a hankey held up to her nose was on the other side. She'd obviously been crying and squeeked out in a weak voice "Can I help you?"

Zatanna softened her posture immediately. Almost entirely dropping the facade they had come up with prior to knocking. "Uh, Mrs. Raymond? We're here because we're trying to find your son. Ronnie."

The woman's face twitched with hope, fear, grief, all fighting for space. "Do you know where he is?!"

Zatanna shook her head. "Not yet. But we're trying. We know he went missing after the...incident at his workplace."

Mrs. Raymond's hands trembled as she held the door wider. "He-he left for work that morning and never came home. No calls. No notes. Nothing! The police said they can't do much when a company that big is involved. Alchemax won't talk to me. They keep sending emails full of nothing. They sent me a cheque but how can I cash that? It just feels like blood money..."

Patrick, still in his awkward fake-suit, leaned forward gently. "Ma'am we're not with Alchemax. We just want to make sure he's safe."

Her lip quivered. "I keep thinking maybe he's hurt somewhere or maybe he's..." She couldn't finish the sentence for fear of what she might say. She brought a hand to her mouth, holding back a sob. "He's a good boy. A little directionless, sure, but good. And I just-I just want him back."

Zatanna glanced back at Patrick for a moment, before placing a steady hand over Ronnie's mothers shaking ones.. "We'll find him. I promise. Alchemax has hurt us all and we're not going to let it happen again."

A rustling sound echoed from the alley beside the building. Swamp Thing, lingering near the RV to avoid frightening her or drawing any unncessary attention, turned slightly. He could feel something, a heat that wasn't natural flame.

Zatanna gave Mrs. Raymond one last reassurance before they stepped away.

Patrick leaned over as they walked back down the hall. "Okay, Zee, that went better than expected. At least we know he's not in cahoots with Alchemax."

"Yeah, but we've still got no leads to either of them. For all we know they could be dead in an alley somewhere."

They turned into the alley. It lit up gold.

A streak of atomic fire carved through the air, cutting between them and slamming Swamp Thing who was holding up a shield of branches and roots into the brick wall hard enough to burst a crater into it.

A glowing silhouette landed in front of them, boots splashing in a puddle, the rain around him evaporating into steam. The Firestorm crest burned bright on his chest, and Ronnie's voice came through distorted by the crackle of energy.

"Stay away from her."

Zatanna raised her hands slowly. "Ronnie- wait-"

Another blast hit the ground in front of them, forcing Patrick to stretch his torso like a shield.

"Don't play dumb!" Ronnie barked. "Alchemax sent you, right? Couldn't find me, so now you're going after my mom?!" Martin's voice echoed faintly behind Ronnie's words, trying - and failing to calm him.

Zatanna shook her head. "We're not with them. We're trying to stop them!"

"Liar!" Ronnie shot forward, a fiery comet aiming straight for them.

Patrick grabbed Zatanna and bent backward like rubber to avoid the collision, Ronnie skimming past in a streak of gold.

"Kid's a real hot head!" Patrick wheezed. 

Zatanna planted her boots, breath hissing through her teeth as Ronnie whipped around for another pass, leaving a white-hot arc in the air. "And the understatement of the year award goes to-!"

Ronnie banked hard, circling back toward them like a burning hawk. Swamp Thing tore himself out of the crater, vines knitting across his chest as scorched bark flaked away. He stepped between Zatanna and the oncoming streak, raising a forest of jagged roots.

Ronnie's fist hit the barrier with a thunderous crack - bursting the roots apart in a spray of flaming splinters. "Back off!" he yelled, his palms lighting again. "I'm not letting you freaks anywhere near my mom!"

Patrick elongated a limb, trying to snag Ronnie mid-air, but the kid flew with raw, panicked speed streaking past the grab, twisting, and firing a bolt that sent Patrick slingshotting into a dumpster.

"Hey! Watch the face!" Patrick groaned from beneath the lid.

Zatanna took a slow breath, rain plastering her hair to her face. Ronnie was spiraling - both literally figuratively - not attacking tactically, just reacting, every movement driven by fear and blind rage. And if they pushed back too hard, one stray blast could level the whole street. She spoke a quick spell, one that raised her voice loud above the hiss of the burning rain.

"Ronnie! Please listen to me-!"

"No!" He pointed his hands at her, and the alley bloomed with gold light. "Alchemax already tried to fry my brain once. Not again!"

Martin's voice rippled behind his, strained and distant. "Ronald, please think! They don't look like Alchemax personnel-"

"Shut up!" Ronnie snapped to the empty space beside him. "They found my mom. Who else would know where she lives?"

Zatanna stepped forward even as Swamp Thing reached to stop her, putting up a shield in defence that she deftly stepped around. "We found your mom because she reported you missing. She's terrified because you vanished after the blast." She stepped closer to the floating nuclear man. "She hasn't heard from you since the explosion. She's worried you're dead."

That landed she could see it. His flames flickered, stuttering like a candle in a draft. "But...Alchemax..." Ronnie swallowed. "I was sure they'd send someone..."

"They didn't send us." Zatanna repeated. "We've all lost something to them too. We're trying to find answers."

Swamp Thing nodded, stepping forward, the shield turning back into a hand. "We share an enemy."

Ronnie looked between them. Between the woman who spoke gently, the monster who didn't flinch at his blasts, and the rubber-man climbing out of a dumpster with an annoyed grunt. His fists lowered, light dimming. "So...if you're not Alchemax..." Ronnie said "Then what the hell do you want with me?"

Patrick brushed muck off his fake suit. "Well for starters, a heads up next time before you flamethrower my hair off."

Zatanna continued, not acknowledging Pat's comment. "We want you with us. To stop Alchemax. To find out what happened to Martin Stein. And to make sure they never do this to anyone else again."

Ronnie hesitated, then the rain eased just enough for his face to be fully visible. He looked equal parts exhausted as he did afraid. But beneath it all a flicker of hope flashed across his features. Martin's voice echoed in his head, clearer now. "They might be the only allies we have left, Ronald."

Ronnie exhaled. "Okay..." he said at last. "But if this is a trick I swear I’ll turn this alley into a crater."

Zatanna stepped closer and offered her hand. "Welcome aboard, Ronnie."

Ronnie looked at it, then slowly lowered to the ground and shook it. "Guess it beats slumming around rooftops in the rain."

They entered into the RV shortly after, still adjusting to the shock of watching the towering nuclear inferno collapse back down into a drenched, jittery seventeen-year-old.  Ronnie recounted the explosion at Alchemax, each detail spilling out quicker than the last. Being called in early. The weird energy readings. The blinding light. The terror. Then waking up fused with Martin Stein's voice rattling around in his skull, the lab in ruins, security swarming.

When he finished, Zatanna offered their own story in return. What Alchemax did to Patrick, what they stole from Alec Holland, what they summoned with her father. They didn't sugarcoat any of it, and Ronnie didn't flinch. If anything, he looked relieved to know it wasn't just him.

"So what now?" Ronnie asked, leaning forward, casting a wary eye at the Swamp Monster stood next to him. "You wanna just walk up to Alchemax HQ and ask for a tour?"

"We want answers." Zatanna replied. "And we'll need a way inside to get them."

Patrick snapped his fingers. "I could pretend to be a secret agent again-"

"No." Zatanna and Swamp Thing said simultaneously.

There was a few seconds of silence of silence. Ronnie sighed, rubbing his face. Exhaustion was taking over, at least he'd have somewhere safe and soft to sleep tonight. "Well, you guys might actually be in luck."

They all turned toward him. Ronnie lifted his jacket from the seat beside him and fished into the pocket. When he pulled his hand free, he held a sleek, glossy envelope sealed with embossed silver.

"I got handed this when I was in my Firestorm mode, not long after the attack on New York." he explained. ""The New York Restoration Gala. No doubt there'll be some corporate big wigs there. I bet Alchemax will send someone." He rotated the envelope between his fingers. "I wasn't gonna go. Figured hiding on rooftops was safer."

Zatanna's eyes widened. She felt herself grin from ear to ear. Finally someone else on the team with a good head on their shoulders! Patrick grinned, singing that old song "I've got a golden ticket!"

Ronnie shrugged, almost sheepishly. He looked around the cramped RV - at the witch, the thief-turned-hero, and the walking tree.

"Congrats kid!" Patrick said, clapping him on the back. "You're officially part of the weirdest rescue team in America."

Ronnie cracked a small smile for the first time in a long time. "Yeah..." he said quietly. "Could be worse. You got a name for this team?" The three looked at each other in almost disbelief. "I mean, all the superhero teams have a name right?"

Until this very moment Zatanna had never considered the group she'd sought out to be anything close to superheroes. They were just freaks with the same goal. But the more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. She thought for a moment. "Well, I suppose there's four of us? What about the Four?"

Plastic man cut in, flashing a pair of jazz hands. "The Fantastic Four!"

For once, the group all laughed together. For once they had the upper hand, time to prepare. The Fantastic Four had a party to attend, and they'd do it in style.
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I'm the one that's alive. You're all dead.

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