Clockwork and Probability

The exit sign passed overhead; it barely even registered with him. It didn't need to. Cyborg had made the drive enough times to know where he was going, and in the grand scheme of things it didn't matter. The robotic half of his brain had the entire route preprogrammed. Between that and his constantly up-to-date GPS function, in a clinch he could always get to where he was going. Just one of the advantages to being a well oiled machine. Still, today he chose to go without, simply lose himself in the long and lonely drive.

With the servo's in his fingers whirring and humming to this actions, he lightly flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. It was getting late. Evening had come and night was right on its tail, the light in full on retreat. Absentmindedly rubbing an itch on the bottom of his nose with his free hand, he squinted as a momentary glare sprang forth from the dimly lit highway. Barely even thinking about it he flipped down the visor and a few minutes later signaled his turn and made his exit, venturing down the off-ramp and back into the heart of the city he knew so well.

He was awakened out of his zombie like stupor by the sudden chime of his dash mounted communicator. Leaning foreward, and with a few button taps, the jingle was silenced.

"Yo," he said, settling back into his seat. Resting one hand on the wheel he casually stuck an elbow out the side window.

"It's me."

The voice came low and moderately distorted through the radio receiver, readily identifiable. It was Nightwing again.

"What's up, Bird Boy?" replied Cyborg.

"I got the final word from Starfire. The new recruits should be arriving at the Tower in a few days."

"Well alright. Who we got this time?"

"Artemis, Miss Martian, Static, Aqua Girl and Kid Devil."

"Kid Devil?"

"Blue Devil's sidekick."

"Oh right, right. And who's Blue Devil?"

"Operates on the west coast. Blue skin, horns, pitchfork."

"Oh. Thaaaat Blue Devil."

Nightwing sighed. "Are you aware that you're sounding more and more like Beast Boy every day."

"Ouch, man. Seriously ouch."

"How are things on your end?"

"Tight as a drum. The new security systems are in place, the training droids arrived the day before last and I just bought a Karaoke machine."

"That's fine. I'll contact you again sometime next week to see how things went. Nightwing out."

Cyborg barely got out the first half of "Okay, see ya later" when suddenly there was an electronic clicking sound. In a tick Nightwing terminated his end of the feed and once again there was silence.

"Good talkin' to you too," Cyborg found himself muttering after a moment or two.

Nightwing's news had been anything but unexpected. This upcoming group of young costumed superheroes would be the fourth of such individuals he'd welcomed into the tower. Any nervousness he might have had about playing teacher to a group of fledgling superheroes had disappeared after the second group. Now, the process was as sure and as steady as clockwork, and just as efficient. And there was nothing not to like about that.

A red light at the intersection signaled, and he slowed to a gentle stop. He turned on the radio and sat comfortably in his seat. Suddenly there was an uproar of sound and a blurring of color as from behind the blindside of the leftmost building came the speeding form of a maroon Pontiac Firebird followed quickly by a sextet of hooligans on red and black Harley Davidson-esq motorcycles, hooting and hollering and firing energy weapons wildly into the air.

Cyborg watched the chaotic scene pass him by in the blink of an eye. He turned off the radio and repositioned himself in his seat. He sighed bitterly. So much for his peaceful drive home. Popping the clutch and with tires spinning he took off in hot pursuit.

The identity of the person in the Firebird may have been a mystery at the time, but that of the goons riding the motorcycles was easy enough to ascertain. They were a tribute gang of sorts, a group of young hell raisers who swore everlasting allegiance to the long since departed Johnny Rancid. Calling themselves The Rancid Ones, sporting tribal arm bands and black hairdye, decked out in black wifebeaters and WWI era German helmets, they paid homage to their fallen hero by following his example and doing everything they could to make the citizens of Jump City miserable, causing as much damage as they could and stealing everything that wasn't nailed down. A mere nuisance the begin with, over time they quickly elevated themselves to the status of legitimate threat as at some point they managed to get their hands on Rancid's secret weapons tech. No one knew how, but with their energy pistols and modified Harleys they had truly become a force to be reckoned with.

Completely absorbed with the task at hand, none of the gang members noticed Cyborg giving chase. Yelling and laughing, like a group of maniacs they fired their energy pistols. The Firebird was their target, though it was clear that at the moment they were only mildly interested in hitting it as they fired wildly in every direction without a care in the world of the consequences. Eventually two of them increased their speed enough to pull up alongside the vehicle. They seemed ready to start firing again when the vehicle swerved. Jetting back and forth it slammed into either vehicle sending both bikers completely out of control. One smacked the curb and sent its rider crashing through the window of a nearby storefront while another tailed a light post and went spinning into a pile of garbage cans stacked in a nearby alleyway. The four remaining bikers, clearly angered by this turn of events, began firing on the vehicle with renewed focus. While missing entirely at first, it was only a matter of time before a shot managed to catch the Firebird in the rear passenger tire.

There was a loud pop followed by a nauseating grinding sound as the tire met an abrupt end and the rim began digging into the asphalt. Sparks flew and the remaining tires squealed as the Firebird attempted to maintain control. The vehicle made a hard right, but was unable to maintain its grip on the road and instead went spinning through the chain link fence of a nearby basketball court, which thankfully was not in use at the time, before skidding to a halt, t-boning one of the hoops in the process.

The Rancid One's quickly followed, but Cyborg, unprepared for the sudden turn, unfortunately managed to overshoot the courts. Slamming on his brakes and coming to a spinning halt he quickly righted himself and doubled back. Coming to a stop just beside the courts he found the four gang members firing their weapons at the crashed Firebird, laughing and shouting vulgar taunts all the while. From his vantage point it was impossible to determine the condition of the vehicle's driver, but regardless it was time to put an end to the ordeal and get his city back under control.

One of the gang members would eventually realize Cyborg's presence, but by then it would be too late. Giving no time to react, Cyborg quickly leapt from his vehicle. With his arm canon sent on low he besieged the thugs with a series of concussive energy blasts, rocking their bodies and sending two of them ragdolling to the ground. The remaining two whirled around and started to return fire. Rerouting power to his shields, Cyborg charged the onslaught, absorbing every beam and quickly closing the distance between himself and his assailants. The thugs barely knew what hit them as he effortlessly disarmed them, crushing both their weapons in his powerful hands. With a simple wave he sent the two hooligans, now easy fodder, crashing to the pavement.

With all threats neutralized, Cyborg turned his attention to the car still parked a few yards away. With arm canon prepped, he made his way down the street, quickly but carefully approaching the vehicle. He was just about within spitting distance when against the dull maroon coloring of the vehicle arose a splash of pink, and suddenly a pair of bright feline eyes were peering at him from over the hood.

Recognition came to Cyborg almost immediately. "Jinx?" he said, the name coming out as more of a question than it needed to be.

From behind the car the young woman smirked and ever so casually climbed to her feet. Putting her hands on the hood, leaning and cocking her head to one side, she flashed the metal man a most devilish smile. "Long time no see, tin man," she said. Effortlessly she somersaulted onto the hood. Dropping into a sitting position right in front of him she crossed her legs and smiled. "Fancy running into you here."

Before any more words could find their way to Cyborg's lips he saw Jinx look over his shoulder and widen her eyes in surprise. The low growl of a motorcycle suddenly registered with his audio sensors, and turning he spotted several fast approaching Rancid Ones, arms at the ready. Two of the bastards quickly took aim and fired.

"Watch out," Cyborg cried, throwing his massive frame around Jinx, shielding her. He winced as pain sensations registered with his system and several warning signals began sounding in his electric eye. The Rancid ones were still on fast approach and neither was willing to offer him any opportunity to return fire. Fortunately he wouldn't have to.

From the behind the safety of her human shield, Jinx smirked at the fast approaching Rancid Ones. With a wave of her hand, a flurry of pink hexes were released into the air.

Jinx had explained it to him one time at a Teen Titans reunion, how her powers actually worked. "It's a force," she said. "You can call it Luck. That's how I always liked to look at it. But, how it was taught to me, and if you really want to get technical, what we're really talking about is probability."

Chaos magic she called it: the practice of altering the probable functions of the everyday world. With a wave of her hand and a little concentration, Jinx could change the probability of the world around her.

To think of it another way, What would be the probability that some newly constructed building would suddenly collapse in on itself or that solid pavement would suddenly take on the qualities of quicksand? Pretty low. That's where Jinx came in.

So, what was the probability that every set of tires would suddenly bust on every Rancid One motorcycle?


There were cries of fear and confusion and suddenly every biker found himself going out of control, falling and crashing in rapid succession. In a matter of seconds the threat had dissipated leaving nothing behind but a half dozen or so groaning and writhing bikers.

Pulling away slightly, still somewhat shielding the woman in his arms, Cyborg surveyed the damage. He turned back in time to find Jinx staring up at him, her trademark smirk still shining on her lips.

"I always knew we'd make a good team," she said with a grin, tracing a finger across his large metal chest.

Clearing his throat, Cyborg gently took Jinx by the shoulders and extricated himself.

The years had been very kind to the young sorceress. She was taller now, if only slightly; more curvy, yet still very petite, and possessing the same lovely alabaster skin. Her hair, while still the same bright pink, was now missing the punk-rock-esque horns worn during her teenage years; now instead, like a fountain, it ran parallel to the gentle curves of her cheeks before stopping just above her collar bone, giving her a more conventional yet still somewhat wild appearance. Her outfit now consisted of a dark purple tank top worn under black fishnets; a dark purple skirt and pink and black striped leggings leading to a pair of long black boots. She wore four small silver rings in each ear and the same violet stone still hung around her neck from a simple black collar.

Getting control of his gawking wasn't easy, but somehow Cyborg managed. "I don't suppose you can tell me what went on here," he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Jinx's answer was casual as she leaned up against passenger side door of the busted Firebird. "What can I say?" she said with a smirk. "Some guys just can't take no for an answer."


Noticing Jinx's movements and sensing she was hiding something, Cyborg threw a quick glance over her shoulder to the inside of the car. Carefully reaching past her, through the shattered passenger side window he quickly retrieved a near unnoticeable black satchel from inside the car. Popping it open he was instantly greeted by the shimmering sight of a tangled mess of necklaces, rings and bracelets.

He fixed his eyes back on Jinx. "And I suppose it had nothing to do with this, did it?"

Shaken for only a moment, the pink haired woman's smile quickly returned. "Now how did that get there?" she asked, chuckling nervously.

Cyborg smiled, and after a moment Jinx's own smile returned. It quickly disappeared, however, when she heard a metallic clink and felt the familiar hug of handcuffs on her wrists.

"Hey," she practically shrieked. Observing the restraints on her hand, she cast an angry glare at the man in front of her, whose smile had yet to leave his face. "Oh come on, you're really going to arrest me for ripping off a bunch of juvenile delinquents?"

"Well besides the fact that I somehow doubt The Rancid Ones obtained these legally there's still the matter of that high society gala you knocked over a few months ago in Star City. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Oh please. It's not like those snobs couldn't afford it."

"Stealing is stealing, Jinx."

"Spoken like a true long arm of the law."

"Well, I do my best."

Quickly Jinx made a grab for the satchel, managing to secure one of the two handles before Cyborg quickly grabbed the other. Now standing in tug of war position the two stared at one another. Jinx's eyes were pleading.

"Oh come on, Vic. You mean to tell me after everything we've been through, you can't let me go just this once?"


The sound of sirens drew Cyborg's attention momentarily away from the woman in front of him to the dimming light on the horizon. He smirked and still looking away said, "Looks like your ride's almost..."

Turning to finish his thought, he stopped when he found the pink haired vixen gone, and in his hands not the handle of the satchel but rather the chain links of the handcuffs he'd only moments ago snapped over her delicate wrists. Studying the dangling cuffs in his hands, the young man furrowed his brow and let out a perturbed sigh.


Jinx was all smiles as she quickly rounded the street corner. Ducking into a nearby alley way, she stopped momentarily to double check the contents of the satchel. Gazing down at the treasures within she let out a small self-satisfied laugh. The sound of a car approaching drew her attention to the alley entrance. With her eyes still focused behind her she closed the satchel and delved deeper into the alley. Breaking into a light jog, she rounded a corner and was stopped by an unforeseen obstruction. She let out a surprised gasp and dropped the satchel to the ground. She felt cold steel kiss the back of her hands and a sudden weight pull at her arms. Looking down she found her hands bound by what appeared to be a pair of cylindrical gauntlets, each long shaft rounded at the end, completely encasing her fingers. And in front of her, loading the satchel of jewels into a compartment in his chest and smirking in satisfaction, stood a quite pleased with himself Cyborg.

"Ugh!" Jinx groaned. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Not at the moment."

"How did you find me so fast?"

Snaking a hand around to Jinx's back quickly revealed an object the size and dimensions of a shirt button, a small winking green light in its center. Holding the object between his thumb and index finger Cyborg smirked.

"A tracking device. Huh. Since when did you become The Batman?" said Jinx, somewhat irritated. She cast a glance down to her restraints. "And the super cuffs?"

"Specially reinforced and made from Nth metal. Immune to even Chaos magic."

"Uh-huh. And you didn't slap these on the first time because..."

"As you can tell, those suckers are kind of heavy. And I thought maybe I'd give you the chance to go along peacefully."

"Is that so?"

"That's so."

"You mean to tell me you weren't so enraptured by my beauty that for a moment it distracted even YOUR great mind?"

"Nope." And with that, taking Jinx by the arm, Cyborg began making his way to the end of the alleyway where the T-car lay waiting for him.

"So you're really going to take me in? Just like that?"

"I think we've covered this."

"Alright, alright fine. In that case how about a last request."

"It's not the electric chair, Jinx, it's just jail."

"Might as well be. Do you have any idea what they give you for food in there?"

"Can't say I do."

"Well if you did, then you wouldn't begrudge me the chance for one last decent meal."

Stepping in front of him, Jinx put on her most sympathetic face. "Come on," she smiled. "There's a nice little Italian place not far from here. What do you say? You can come with me. It'll be just like old times."

For a moment Cyborg appeared thoughtful.

"Sorry, can't do that," he said finally.

Jinx frowned and stamped her foot. "Why not?"

"Against regulations."

"Regulations smegulations. All I'm asking for is one lousy dinner." When the man said nothing in return, Jinx let a long angry sigh. "Fine," she shot bitterly as they started walking again. "Whatever you say Robocop."

Feeling the slightest hint of ire rise up inside of him, Cyborg cast a quick glare in Jinx's direction. "Don't call me that," he said plainly.

Smirking, the pink haired woman replied in a mocking monotone voice, "Halt, you are under arrest. You are in violation of police statute 10635-"

"Stop it."

"Danger, danger. Robbery in progress.

"Cut it out."

"You have 10 seconds to comply. Ten, nine-"

Taking her roughly by the other arm, Cyborg glared hard into the woman's eyes. "I SAID STOP IT!" he bellowed.

Then things became very quiet.

Bowing his head in shame and embarrassment, Cyborg's grip loosened. "Sorry," he said.

"Yeah, me too," said Jinx, all the sass gone from her voice.

Arriving at the car, Cyborg opened the passenger side door, carefully guided Jinx inside and made his way around the front of the car. Lowering himself into the driver's seat he placed his hands on the wheel. He reached for the ignition key and hesitated. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jinx staring longingly out the window, her shackled hands resting useless in her lap.

What was the probability of his feelings getting the better of his judgement?

"So..." he said after a moment. "Where is this Italian place again?"


"So any chance we can lose the supercuffs?" asked Jinx pleasantly, gesturing to the large manacles resting on the table.

The very sight of the massive cuffs had been more than enough to almost keep them from gaining admittance to the surprisingly high-class restaurant. It was only thanks to Cyborg's own credibility that they were even allowed to be seated. Still...

"I don't think so."

Jinx smirked and, leaning forward slightly, said, "I guess that means you're going to be feeding me then."

Cyborg smirked back but said nothing.

"Look," Jinx continued. "You have my word I won't try anything. At least not until I've had my entree."

Looking down for a moment, Cyborg let out a small relinquishing sigh. With the aid of a built in retractable key from his finger he carefully unfastened the cuffs, leaving them on the table alongside the bread basket.

Rubbing her wrists, Jinx let out a soft and satisfied coo. "So much better," she said with a smile.

Things became silent until, a few moments later, came their waitress. Though obviously nervous, the young woman nevertheless did her job and took their orders, with Jinx having the Chicken Marsala and Cyborg opting for the more traditional Spaghetti and Meatballs.

Time passed and so came their meals. Conversation had been almost non-existent, with Cyborg refusing to entirely drop his defenses. Jinx nonetheless remained polite and courteous.

"So, how've you been?" she asked suddenly. The question was only her third attempt to break the ice.

Cyborg looked up from his plate for a moment and then quickly looked back down. "Fine I suppose."

"Where are the rest of the Titans these days? Haven't seen'em around."

Cyborg remained silent a moment longer before speaking. "Well," he said. "Robin's planted himself in Bludhaven. Calls himself Nightwing now. Starfire's with the Justice League. She practically lives up on the Watchtower though she still pops on over every once and a while."


"BB's retired. So's Raven. Got a little home in the burbs."

"I thought they broke up."

"They did. Then they made up. Then they broke up again. And made up again. Very passionate those two."

"And what about you and Miss Bumble Bee?"



"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

Jinx flashed him a knowing smile. "Oh don't be so coy," she said. "You two are an item, aren't you?"

"Now what makes you say that?"

The surprise on Jinx's face was genuine. "You mean you're not?"

Still looking at his plate, Cyborg twirled a large helping of spaghetti into his fork. "A little presumptive, don't you think?"

"Sorry. I just thought...the way you two used to hang out...She had little pet names for you."

Cyborg smiled and with a small chuckle shook his head. "It's okay," he said. "No, Jinx. We're not an 'item.' I heard she signed on with BB's old Doom Patrol buddies. I haven't seen her for a while, but last I heard she was doing fine."

Jinx's pale cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she returned her attention to her food. Stealing a glance at her in this flustered state, Cyborg could not help a small grin from forming on his lips. How cute that pink tinge made her look. To his own surprise he was starting to find himself more relaxed.

"So, how's the chicken?" he asked after a moment.

Jinx smiled and said, "I tell you, if this were my last meal I could die happy." Cutting a bite of chicken she looked across the table to Cyborg's plate. "How's yours?"

"It's good."

The two shared a smile and then returned to their plates. There was a short, pleasant silence.

"Hey, there's something I've always wanted to ask you," came Jinx after a moment or two.


"How do you...I mean..When you..." She began gesturing to his plate with her fork. "Gosh how do I put this without insulting you?"

"You're, uh, wondering about the eating thing. Like if I'm mostly made of metal why would I need to eat."


Turning his attention back to his plate, Cyborg appeared contemplative.

"To tell the truth," he said. "I actually don't need to eat at all. My energy cores are what really powers me. I mean everything I eat is burned up and converted, but the energy I get from it is minimal at best."

"So then why do it?"

"Two reasons, really. For one thing, my sense of taste still works. Not as well as it used to. I don't sense flavors the same way I used to. Like imagine the TV being on, but the volume's been turned down really low. You can still hear it but only if you really focus. Still it's there, and I like it. So I guess that's a one thing."

"And the second reason?"

For a moment Cyborg was silent. Turning his food over on his plate, he sighed. "Well," he said finally. "It makes me feel like, I don't a part of me's still human, I guess."


"Yeah. Back when I played football I had a very strict daily regiment. Waking up, working out, making myself a big breakfast, going to school, lunch, practice...Then came the accident. My football dreams disappeared. Going to college fell by the wayside too. I had this new body. Working out seemed pointless. It's like in one day, everything about my life as I knew it changed. Then I found out my tastebuds still worked, and it was almost like Christmas. I didn't need to eat, was just one of the only things that could still be the same. I guess this doesn't make much sense."

"It makes perfect sense."

Looking up from his plate, Cyborg found the young woman smiling warmly at him, looking to him with soft, sympathetic eyes. It was a look that suited her, and one he unfortunately had not known often enough.

"By the way you're paying for this right?" asked Jinx suddenly.

Cyborg chuckled.


The restraints made a deep clinking sound as they sealed themselves back around Jinx's wrists. Despite this her smile still remained. Climbing back into the passenger seat of the T-car, she looked to Cyborg and said, "So, where to now?"

"Now we go to the police station," replied Cyborg settling back into the driver's seat.


"The deal was for one meal."

"With no dessert? What kind of lousy date is this?"

Cyborg couldn't help laughing. "Who said this was a date?" Putting the car in drive he signaled and carefully pulled out from the curb.

"Come on, tin man."

"You're pushing it, Jinx."

"A little ice cream. Is that so much to ask?"

Cyborg shook his head. What was the probability that he was enjoying himself too much to let the night end just yet. Furthermore, what was the probability that there were still a few things about the lovely sorceress that he still felt like adressing?

"Well," he began slowly. "Maybe you answer me a few little questions and we'll see."

"Alright fine."

"Ok, for starters, why don't you tell me why you're stealing again?"

"Ah, now, you see, you've never been a theif so you have no idea how much fun it is..."

"Come on, Jinx. Now, I thought you put all that stuff behind you."

"I did."

"Is that what you call driving around ripping off biker gangs?"

To Cyborg's surprise the sudden silence that unexpectedly followed created within him a small but entirely noticeable patch of apprehension. Stealing a glance to the passenger seat he found the young woman sans smile, looking down at the floor of the car. Starting to feel guilty for bringing it up, he wondered if he should say something when finally Jinx spoke.

"Well, the thing about putting something behind you is that there's always a chance that it's gonna catch back up," she replied somewhat sadly.

Cyborg stole another glance. He cleared his throat and said, "I, uh, heard about you and Kid Flash. I guess a while back you had some problems?"

Jinx smiled a bit and the tension in the vehicle eased. "I guess you could say that. Long story short, it turns out I wasn't the only girl that he swooped in and, ahem, "rescued."

"Oh I see."

"I mean don't get me wrong. Wally's a really nice guy. But when it comes to relationships he's more of a sprinter, not so much a long distance kind of guy."

"So he broke your heart and now your back to a life of crime."

Pausing for a beat, holding her hands the best she could over her heart, Jinx threw up her chin. "Oh dear," she sighed, her voice the perfect reflection of the typical Southern belle. "Why, without the strong guiding hand of a may-un whatever shall I do? Oh woe is me." Cocking an eyebrow she turned to the man beside her. "Now who's being presumptive?"

Chuckling nervously, Cyborg scratched the side of his chin with his finger. "Sorry," he said.

"The truth is, and this is something maybe you never realized. But being a's not something that people just let you forget. Just getting an apartment was hard enough, but a job? Fat chance. Sometimes it just doesn't matter how hard you try to move on or start over. If no one wants to give you a chance...well..."

"Jinx. Why didn't you just ask for help? There's more than enough room at the tower. It's not like I would have turned you away."

"I know. And you're sweet. But truthfully, in the long run, I doubt it would have done either one of us any good."

Again things fell silent as slowly the police station came into view.


The ice cream stands, as it turned out, were all closed. So an alternative plan had to be considered.

"Not that I'm complaining mind you," said Jinx as she made her way past the automated doors into the Titan Tower common room. "But just picking up a quart at a late night supermarket would have been fine."

"Nah, the places around here never have the kind I like anyway," replied Cyborg. Going to the freezer, he opened the door and swiftly retrieved the small white and brown container. "Super Chunk Banana Ripple Supreme," he said, holding out the carton, the label in clear view.

"Mmmm. Sounds tasty."

Jinx made herself comfortable on the common room sofa and a few minutes later Cyborg greeted her with two large soup bowls filled to the brim with ice cream.

"Here's to ya," said Cyborg holding up a spoonful.

Jinx mirrored the action and both took in a mouthful of the cold and sweet confection.

"Mmm," said Jinx. "That is some good ice cream."

"Oh yeah," replied Cyborg.

There was a moment of comfortable silence.

"No one else would have ever done this for me, Victor," said Jinx suddenly.

"Sure they would have."

Setting her bowl down beside her Jinx carefully inched her way across the sofa. Practically on Cyborg's lap she shook her head. "No," she said. "They wouldn't."

She crawled over Cyborg's knee, and within moments they were kissing. What started as soft slow pecking very quickly became deeper and more passionate. Forgetting about the ice cream, Cyborg tossed his bowl onto the coffee table where it clattered loudly. He placed a gentle hand on Jinx's back as she lovingly cupped his face in her hands.

For several minutes the only sound in the common room was that of the smacking of their lips and the gentle rustling of Jinx's clothes as Cyborg ran his metallic fingers up and down her soft delicate frame.

"Jinx," said Cyborg suddenly, his voice barely a whisper. "I still can't let you go."

"I know," replied Jinx, placing another soft kiss on his lips. "I know."

He was home. He was with a beautiful woman. And he had ice cream. What was the probability that he would suddenly fall asleep?


It was still dark when his systems came back online. The overhead lights still burned. The bowls of ice cream had long since become warm bowls of sugary soup. Sitting up, Cyborg felt the door to his chest compartment swing open. Remembering the satchel of jewels he thrust his hand inside only to find the space empty, empty, that is, save for a note written on a fresh piece of paper he recognized as being from the notepad in the kitchen. Under the note, the tracer he had secretly planted on Jinx's shirt only moments before she'd put him offline.


Thanks for a wonderful evening. We'll have to do it again sometime.



Dropping the piece of paper onto the cushion beside him, Cyborg sighed. He drummed his fingers against his knees and then turned his attention to his wrist mounted computer terminal. Checking the readout he smiled. The homing beacon he'd slipped into the satchel earlier in the evening was moving and still fully operational. Good thing too. As what was the probability that he would dare let such a beautiful and wonderful woman get away?