The leaves floated majestically from the dry branches of the trees. Browns, yellows, and oranges assaulted the eye from every direction. The majority of the trees were bare, their branches reaching for the sky like the spiny hands of a skeleton. Not a cloud hung in the never ending sea of blue, making the afternoon come to life with uninterrupted beauty. Long sickly looking shadows of trees were cast upon the ground by the cold sun. The air nipped and bit, threatening to turn any exposed flesh scarlet. Yet, somehow, that sun managed to suppress the awful winter that awaited them. The storms and the blizzards were not far off, but the public was not concerned with the weather to come. All of New York was buzzing with excitement for the arrivals of the billionaires Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen.

Graceful, slender hands fiddled with the tie around his neck, making it tighter, then loosening it. Roy watched the hands, the hands that, in an instant, could crush his trachea. The hands that had brought pain and death to many. But most of all, the hands that caressed his flesh with all the tenderness in the world. Satisfied, the hands slipped away, and pink lips arched into a small smile. They sat there, contrasting sharply against porcelain skin, tempting him. Dark eyes pierced through him, reminding him of the reasons he kept going. Like a broken dam, warmth flooded through Roy. He wanted to reach out and hold her; to never let her go. That wasn't so much to ask, was it? The lips pulled up higher.

"You're thinking," Jade stated.

"It is a thing the human mind is capable of," Roy replied, giving her a flirtatious smirk.

"Could have fooled me."

"Was that a quip against my intelligence?"

Jade ignored the question, and her head cocked to the side ever so slightly. "What are you thinking about?"


"In what context?"

"Use your imagination."

Roy's rough, but gentle, hand cupped Jade's rosy cheek, and steered her face toward his. Their lips met in the center with a hungry passion Roy had never felt before. The depression, his overpowering need for heroin, it all went away when he was with Jade. All he wanted was her, all he needed was her. Jade's slim hands wound into his red hair, bringing him closer until the only thing between them was their clothes. Roy, however, intended to change that. His nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons on her green blouse, and the camisole underneath was revealed. In the blink of an eye, Jade's lips left his, and her dark eyes shot to the rearview mirror where she could see the taxi driver watching them. Pulling her shirt up, Jade shot Roy a glare that somehow managed to contain all the passion in the world; under the annoyance of course.

"We are in the back of a taxi cab," Jade whispered to Roy, harshly.

Roy eyed the seat. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Wouldn't be the last time either," The driver remarked, dryly.

Jade ignored them both and slowly buttoned up her shirt. Honestly, she felt like she was the mother to a child in their relationship. Roy's persistent fingers smoothed her wild hair behind her ear, but Jade pulled away and gave him a half-hearted glare. The young archer had been unnaturally clingy since they had moved Kochan, his brother Dale, and his wife Sheila to a safe house in Gotham. Maybe he had realized how fragile life was. It didn't really matter to her. Kochan had served his purpose by leading them to Metropolis, he could go and die for all she cared; but Roy insisted that they should at least try and save the wannabe criminal and his family. Where better to hide them than Gotham? She and Roy had both figured that Deathstroke wouldn't touch the city with a ten foot pole, at least, not while he had Robin in his grasp.

The taxi slowed to a stop and Roy threw money at the driver, telling him to keep the change. The Plaza Hotel could hardly be seen out the window beyond the crowd of people gathered before it. Fiddling with the archer's tie once more, Jade gave him a quick peck on the lips before pushing him out the door and into the cool October air. As if by magic, the taxi was simply gone when he looked back. It was like it, along with his girlfriend, had never been there. Smoothing out his suit, Roy walked toward the crowd, but they paid him no heed. Cameras flashed, and microphones were raised in the air, each trying to catch all they could. The pandemonium appeared to have a core, which Roy slowly inched his way toward. but the people acted as if they were the Great Wall of China, and he was Attila the Hun.

Eventually, the redheaded archer managed to break through the barricade. He found the center of attention to be, of course; Oliver Queen. The blonde man laughed merrily and smiled at the cameras. Women were trying to get their hands on him, and he goaded them on with a flirtatious wink. Roy had trouble not laughing his ass off right then and there; Dinah would not be happy. A sly smile filled his face, he couldn't wait to tell her. Idly he wondered how Ollie had managed to afford a stay at the Plaza, but he didn't ponder on the thought for long. Bruce had probably offered to pay; they were there to look for his lost ward. Roy's brow furrowed, did Bruce know that Ollie hardly had a penny to his name? Did he know that the cheerful manner Ollie possessed, the expensive looking suit, did he know it was all just a cheap knockoff of the original?

Roy's eyes caught sight of the famous Bruce Wayne smiling for pictures, questions were thrown at him at random; most revolving around Dick Grayson. The billionaire smiled and nodded, but didn't say much. He had a friendly arm thrown around Ollie, which was odd, for Bruce normally had a woman or two by his side. The only time he didn't was when Dick was with him. The two men threw back their heads and barked with thunderous laugher. When Ollie saw Roy, he pulled away from Bruce and gave the ginger a one armed hug. The show of affection was stiff and awkward to say the least. Roy reluctantly accepted the hug and smiled for the cameras with the memory of his and Ollie's last fight fresh on his mind. He had asked Wally to drop in later so that he would not be completely alone with the douche, but the speedster was busy helping the Titans in Jump. It was times like those that Roy really missed Dick, they would stick out for each other when Ollie and Bruce were being total assholes.

Pulling away from Ollie, Roy found most of the attention suddenly on him. Nearly blinded by the lights, he politely answered all the questions thrown at him, he did not miss being in the spotlight in the least. The news reporters were all vultures who did not care who they picked apart to get their dish. How could anyone really miss that? So Roy just smiled and made up some story about a blonde girl named Gwen that he was with. The reporters ate it up like it was a whole meal. It was really quite ridiculous. The archer was actually uncomfortable when questions about Ollie were raised, he was unsure of how to answer them. Obviously it had not become public knowledge that Queen Industries was failing miserably. How long Ollie was going to keep that under wraps, Roy had no clue. It surely couldn't stay hidden for much longer.

Roy found that most of the attention was no longer on him, Ollie, or Bruce, but on a small black haired boy that stood in the center of a group of reporters. Rather rudely, Roy stepped away from a woman who had been questioning him about his supposed girlfriend. But it wasn't his fault, he was no longer in control of his body. Roy pushed past people, not really caring who he trampled on. His feet dragged him toward the boy, and slowly, the redhead reached out and touched his shoulder. Seizing the boy, Roy swung him around and placed his arms protectively around him. Roy's hand came up and pressed the boy's head to his chest. Sighing contently, he let his chin fall onto the mop of black hair. Camera's flashed in every inch of the archer's vision, but he didn't care. The boy in his arms shifted after a stunned moment, then he pushed against Roy's chest; trying to break his grasp.

The boy stepped away, and Roy's face fell; he hadn't even realized that he had been smiling. The child that he had aggressively assaulted with a hug was most definitely not Dick. Yes, the boy had black hair and blue like his friend, but that is where the similarities stopped. His eyes weren't the same brilliant shade of blue that Dick possessed, and his face was slightly longer. His hair, though strewn about was still slightly more controlled than that of the boy Roy knew. The boy in front of him had a hard look on his face, almost like he was constipated. He also realized that the kid was too short to be Dick, but not by much. He was fairly young as well, maybe twelve or thirteen. The boy just sort of stared him down for a moment, and Roy returned the stare. Both were stunned to see the other, so they just stood there awkwardly.

"You thought I was him," the boy said, finally. His voice was quiet, and slightly accusing. "I'm not."

"Yeah, I can see that," Roy replied in a low voice. "Do they think you're him?"

"No," The kid smiled and waved to the paparazzi. "They know who I am."

More cameras flashed, and the kid just smiled while giving them a peace sign. Roy slipped an uncomfortable smile onto his face and snaked an arm around the boy's small shoulders like they were old friends. They laughed, and let the swarming vultures descend upon them; but each movement that Roy made was forced. Who the hell was the kid, and why did he look so much like Dick? The crowd parted briefly and a heavy hand fell onto Roy's shoulder. Looking up, the ginger found the smiling face of Bruce Wayne staring down at him. That in itself was enough to scare him, but Roy found it was normal for the billionaire to smile in the eye of the public.

"Roy Harper, this is Jason," Bruce introduced.

Roy hesitantly reached out and grabbed the boy's hand in a firm shake. "Jason…?"

"Todd," The boy finished. "Bruce adopted me last November."

The archer rose and eyebrow. "Adopted?"

"Yep," Jason answered, his voice pompous. It was almost like he had rehearsed his last sentence. "Legally I am his son."

"Son?" Roy hissed, snapping his head back to glare at Bruce.

Bruce ignored Roy's glare and raised a sardonic eyebrow in Jason's direction. The boy merely greeted it with a smile. Resting a hand on each of the boy's shoulders, Bruce steered them through the front doors of the Plaza Hotel. Ollie followed close behind, flashing the reporters on last flirty smile. Under his hand, Bruce felt Roy's muscles tighten, and the boy shifted uncomfortably. It was like he was there out of sheer reluctance. Every once in a while the Dark Knight caught the young archer shooting him outraged looks, but when he found Bruce staring at him, his eyes would shift to Jason, and they would soften considerably. Bruce found that Roy looked at Jason with something akin to pity, and he was glad the younger boy was unaware of the sideways glances. Jason's temper almost always got the best of him, and he did not and would not accept any sort of remorse from anybody. Just Roy looking at him could have easily turned into a blood bath. Bruce silently hoped that Jason would remain submissive throughout the entirety of their trip.

People watched as the four made their way through the grand hall of the Plaza. It wasn't often that they got to see one of the world's richest men parading through New York, even if it was relatively close to his home city of Gotham. Bruce's hands fell away from both of the boy's shoulders, and he took the lead as he made his way toward the front desk. People staring was not an unusual thing for him, as Bruce Wayne and as Batman. But for once the staring was strange. The world wanted to know where Dick Grayson was, and he didn't have an answer. Their best cover was the article Lois Lane had written. The one downside was that they had no name for Dick's "mysterious illness" and they could not pinpoint a country where he was receiving treatment. Hopefully the media would see it as a quest for privacy.

"It's confirmed that a Mr. John Smith is staying on the fifth floor with his son, Mickey Smith in room 413," Barbara's soft voice said, coming from the earpiece both Bruce and Jason wore. "Suspicious much?"

"John Smith," Jason huffed. "Couldn't Deathstroke think of something more creative like Fox Harkness or Jack Mulder?"

Roy rolled his eyes and a playful smirk sat on his lips. "Get your sci-fi TV programs straight, kid."

Jason looked like he was going to go into a full blown cussing fit, but then Bruce saw the strangest thing. The raven haired boy caught into Roy's playful manor, and halfway through meltdown mode he began to laugh. It was literally the most incredible thing that Bruce had ever seen. He expected Jason to have Roy down on the ground by that point, punching his face in, but he just laughed. Despite the small connection between the two boys, Bruce still saw something strange twinkling behind the archer's eyes. Shaking his mind off the peculiar circumstance, he made his way toward the desk where a small woman sat in anticipation. She had long sandy hair, and a nervous smile; her nametag read "Kate". She smiled at the approaching group, but it was clear she had never attended to someone quite like Bruce Wayne or Oliver Queen."

"H-hello, Mr. Wayne, Mr. Queen," she stuttered, while getting all of her paperwork in order. "Your rooms on the fifth floor are ready, your bags have already been taken up. Are you sure you would not like a more elegant suite such as the presidential?"

"No thank you, Ms. Kaitlin," Bruce said, adding in a charming smile for good measure. "I heard that the fifth floor has the best view of Central Park."

"Yes. Right. Of course." Kate smiled. "How will you be paying, Mr. Wayne?"

"Credit." He gestured to Ollie and Roy. "I will be paying for both rooms. After all, they are my guests."

Kate accepted the credit card that was offered to her, and she ran it. Handing it back to him, she gave him the key cards to the rooms. "Enjoy your stay at the Plaza Hotel."

Bruce thanked her and turned away from the desk, across the way he spotted the elevators. Once they got up to the fifth floor, Bruce planned that he and Ollie would change and have a nice chat with the residents in room 413. Things, however, did not go as planned. When Bruce turned around, he found that everyone else was gone. They must have wandered off while he had been talking to Kate. Suppressing a sigh, the man set out in search of the three children. How hard could it have been to stay put while he had checked them in? Obviously very. His navy eyes fell upon the trio leafing through a tourist brochure on the complete other side of the room. Slowly, Bruce stalked toward them, making no effort to hide his frustration. Roy and Jason shrunk behind Ollie, who was unaware of his approach. The man chuckled nervously before putting the pamphlet back. Opening his mouth to reprimand them, Bruce was interrupted by Barbara.

"Smith just checked out."

Snapping his head around, Bruce found himself staring at the checkout desk. For a moment all he say was a swarm of people buzzing like bees, and then he found the thing that was out of place. A man turned away from where Kate stood. He had two backpacks slung over his back, and he was as tall as a tree. The man had salt and pepper hair with a goatee to match, but it was the eye patch that really caught Bruce's attention. It was just like the picture that Lois Lane had painted. A sole gray eye fell on the gaping billionaire, and then it slid to Jason behind him, who was talking to Roy. Then the man smiled. Deathstroke smiled. Bruce felt something burning in his chest, setting his insides ablaze. For a moment the cheeky bastard just stood there, grinning at Bruce; then he began to push his way through the crowd in search of the nearest exit.

"Go with Roy and Oliver," Bruce instructed Jason, already walking away. "I'll meet you later."

Before the boy had even had a chance to respond, or ask why, Bruce was gone. He pushed past the people in the lobby, ignoring rude comments and gestures that were thrown in his direction. His eyes were focused on Deathstroke as the mercenary calmly made his way out of the building. Bruce was not more than ten feet behind him. The gentleman at the door didn't even had time to open it for him as he rushed past. The cold autumn air attacked him with a bitter vengeance as he stepped out into the open. He paused for only a second to glance in both directions in search of Deathstroke. Seeing the top of a salt and peppered head, Bruce dashed off in that general direction, determined not to let Deathstroke get away again.

People protested as Bruce pushed past them, but he did not lose speed. His feet slapped against the pavement as he went, never taking his eyes off the mercenary. It seemed like the man had picked up speed, but Bruce really couldn't tell. The head disappeared, and the Dark Knight's heart clenched. No, he would not lose him again. Picking up speed, Bruce barreled down the sidewalk. Passing an alley, he saw a figure disappear over the side of the roof from out of the corner of his eye. Turning on his heel, the billionaire dashed down the alley and climbed up the fire escape without hesitation. His movements felt sloppy, and his hands seemed too moist to grasp the rungs. The Batman, who had done so many incredible things, was having trouble climbing a fire escape. The roof felt like it was a million miles away, and Bruce felt like he was moving through Jell-O. Mere feet was all that was separating him from the man that took his son away.

Bruce felt his heart drop into his stomach when he reached the roof. Deathstroke was not there. Clenching his fists at his sides, the playboy looked this way and that for the mercenary. A frustrated growl tore from his throat, how had he lost him? Bruce's hand flew to his ear with every intention to call Ollie and the to start a city wide search for Deathstroke, but something hit him from behind. Sent sprawling forward by the blow, Bruce was able to twist himself in midair and catch the hand that was about to bring a bowie knife down on his chest. Using his momentum from the fall, the billionaire was able to flip Deathstroke over, and send the knife flying to the edge of the roof. The gray haired man pulled back his fist and punched him with such force that his head ricocheted off the ground, and sent him on a trip to see the stars. The next thing he knew was that Deathstroke was standing over him with a foot planted firmly on his chest.

"Bruce Wayne." Deathstroke knelt down to be face to face with him. "I expected you to show up sooner or later. However, I will not allow you to reclaim what you've come looking for."

"Where is he?" Bruce ground out, seizing the man's ankle.

Something flashed in Deathstroke's eye, something that Bruce could not identify. "Safe."

"Safe?" Bruce all but spat. "Safe in the hands that deal him merciless beatings?"

The pressure on the billionaire's chest increased. "He's safe from you, the man who cast him out of his own home, who abandoned him when he needed you most. You took everything from that boy, including his identity. Dick Grayson died when his parents fell. He died again when you cast him aside like trash. I saved him."

"By beating him and forcing him to commit crimes?" Bruce scoffed. "That sounds more like a dictator than a savior."

"No," Slade's voice was a deadly whisper. "I saved him from you and what you taught him. All you taught him to do was defend others, which left him wide open for attacks. If not for me, then he'd be dead."

Deathstroke's foot came down on the Dark Knight's head, and he knew no more.

Jason felt cold as he watched the last of the sun's rays disappear behind the treetops of Central Park. The days were getting shorter, the nights longer. Winter was trying to creep upon the unsuspecting, but Jason was aware. Oh, how he was painfully aware. It was hard to think that just a year earlier he had been squatting in an abandoned apartment building with no heat or electricity. He had been out on the streets, fighting for his life, and wondering how he was going to survive the cold winter months on his own. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he would be in the company of two billionaires at the Plaza Hotel. He was like the prince and the pauper all wrapped into one. Well, it was more like Dick was prince, and Jason was the pauper. They had just temporarily switched places.

Curling his fingers into a fist, Jason stared down at his hands solemnly. As soon as Bruce had told him to go with Oliver and Roy, the boy had known something was up. However, he went with them anyway, not wanting to get in trouble with the Bat again. As soon as they had gotten to the suite, Jason had grabbed his suitcase and locked himself in a bedroom. Oliver had ordered room service, something too fancy for Jason's taste, so he refused to go out and eat. In all honesty, he had not wanted to go to New York, but Bruce had insisted; for what reason, Jason did not know. He would have said no if he had known that Queen and Harper were part of the deal. Jason wasn't keen on meeting new people.

"You seem down."

Jason nearly jumped at the sound of Barbara's voice in his ear. "Don't do that."

"You should go talk to Roy, he's a nice guy." She paused. "Well, I've never met him, but Dick used to talk about him. He has good intentions, but can be a real asshat."

"I'm not interested in making new friends."

"Then at least talk to an old one. Come on, you can help me pick a new name for myself."

Jason rolled his eyes, not at all enthused by the idea. "Is Barbara not good enough for you?"

There was the sound of typing on the other end, then Barbara spoke. "Yeah, if I wanted to sit here and write Junie B. Jones for the rest of my life."

"Hawkeye. You know, because you look out for us," he suggested, seeing no way out of Barbara's little game.

"I might as well change my name to Clint while I'm at it," she scoffed.


"That name is highly illogical, Captain Kirk," she replied.

"How about… Oracle?" Jason offered.

Barbara was silent for a moment. "That's… interesting. I think I like it. What made you think of it?"

Jason shifted a little bit before answering. "Well, there's this girl named Rachel with red hair, like you, and she is considered an Oracle."

He could almost hear the smirk in Barbara's voice. "Did this Rachel also a kiss a certain Percy Jackson?"

Jason felt his face heat up like a toaster oven. Yes, Rachel had kissed Percy Jackson. He was so caught. He didn't want to be labelled as a bookworm, because he wasn't. He could easily say that Percy Jackson and the Olympians were the only books he had ever read, besides Harry Potter. But who hadn't read those? No, Jason was more of a Call of Duty, Seth McFarlane type, and if anyone accused him of reading, he'd punch them in the neck. Barbara's snickers were wearing on his already stretched thin nerves, and then it hit him. Barbara knew the characters, therefore, she must have read the books as well. Jason cracked a smile, and began to laugh with her. It was just damn funny.

"Well?" Jason asked once he had settled down.

"I think I'll give it a try," Barbara said, still giggling slightly. "Now I have to go, the bossman is calling. Try not to brood too long, sourpuss. Oracle out."

Clicking his earwig off, Jason fell back on the bed with a smile on his face. Barbara wasn't all that bad. He could get along with her. It seemed like she was the only one though. The sound of the doorknob twisting caught his attention, and he sat upright. Could it have been Oliver again asking if he wanted to eat? Probably not, Jason had been rather rude the last time the archer had invaded his privacy. It could have been Roy, it was his room the Boy Wonder was hiding in after all. The knob stopped moving for it seemed whomever was on the other side had accepted that it was locked. For a moment, Jason could catch his breath, then came the persistent scratching of someone trying to pick the lock.

The lock clicked, and Jason did nothing but watch as the door slowly creaked open. A box entered the room before the figure carrying it did. Roy gave the boy a half-hearted smile and slammed the door shut with his foot, causing Jason to cringe. In one hand, he carried a box of pizza, while in the other he carried a six pack of BudLight. Roy had changed from the suit he was wearing into a pair of sweatpants and a Sword Art Online T-shirt. The red head sat the box and cans on the bed, and Jason simply stared at him bewildered. Roy opened the box of pizza and grabbed a slice before turning on the TV to a rerun of Orphan Black. Plopping down on the bed, Jason shot him a glare.

"What the hell?"

Roy's hand reached for a beer and he casually flipped the tab. "I figured you'd get hungry. Pizza alright?" He eyed the boy, who was still wearing his expensive suit. "If anything gets on that, I am not facing the wrath of Alfred."

Hesitantly, Jason grabbed a slice of pizza as well. "What's with the beer?"

Roy shrugged and tossed one to Jason. "Haven't had one in a while. How old are you? Twelve? Thirteen? Dick was about that age when I shared his first beer with him. Don't worry about getting caught. Ollie's passed out on the couch, he probably had a few himself. Bruce'll be pissed."

Jason caught the can and his glare intensified. "First off, don't think you can come in here and be all buddy-buddy with me, because you can't. Second, don't associate me with Dick Grayson ever again. I hate him, and I am not him."

"First off," Roy started, shortly. "This is my room, I'll do what I want, and make friends with who I want. Second, Dick is one of my best friends, and he is also your brother. Say anything about him again and I will punch your teeth in."

The boy was taken aback by Roy's brashness, in fact, he almost liked it. "How am I supposed to like him when everyone is angry I'm not him?"

Jason stared hard at Roy, expecting some sort of wicked retort followed by an animalistic snarl, but that was not what he found at all. Roy looked mad at first, like he was about to lash out, but out of nowhere the look in his eyes softened. Realization dawned on the archer's face. The younger boy was confused as he watched Roy turn off the television, but not before he witnessed a scene with some crazy-looking lady with a ponytail drizzling hot glue on a man's bare chest. Roy got up and moved to the end of the bed, where he sat uncomfortably close to Jason. The raven haired boy wanted to move away, why would Roy sit so close to someone who wasn't even his friend? But the look on the older boy's face made it impossible for him to move. Jason began to wish that he had gone to his and Bruce's suite to be left alone.

"Are they angry, or are you angry?"


Roy was silent for a moment. "No one blames you for not being Dick. You just came in at a rough time. I suppose everyone is just so worried about him that they forgot about you."

"You don't understand," Jason said, crossing his arms. "Bruce expects me to be Dick."

"No," Roy said, slowly. "I think he wants you to be better than Dick. He doesn't want to lose you the same way he lost him."

Jason blinked, he had never thought of it like that. His eyes flicked over to the red head's face. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He shrugged. "I thought I'd give you a fair shot. Besides, you need this 'brotherly bonding' time. When Dick gets back, he will have it with you. For now it's my job. Now drink up, haven't you ever had a beer before?"

"I've had a few." Jason popped the tab. Taking a sip, he peered over the can and studied Roy as he turned the TV back on.

"Damn, I was hoping to share your first one."

Jason laughed softly and took another drink. God, if Bruce found them, they'd be dead. Settling himself against the headboard, Jason cast his eyes upon the TV as Roy flicked through the channels. Finally, he let an episode of The Walking Dead play. He and Roy pretty much made fun of the show the entire time they watched, because honestly, who had sex in the middle of a zombie infested forest? But Jason had to admit, he enjoyed Roy's company. The boy wasn't that bad for being one of Golden Boy's friends. By the end of it, they were both slightly tipsy, and decided that it was in both of their best interests for Jason to stay with him and Ollie overnight. It was truly a beautiful friendship in the making.

Several hours, a few beers, and an entire box of pizza later, Jason and Roy were lost in the world of zombies. A door slamming, however, was enough to bring them out of their stupor. Shooting each other looks of confusion, the boys scrambled off the bed and made their way to the door. On the other side, they heard harsh whispering. Slowly, Roy opened the door and let himself out, Jason came stumbling behind him. In the next room they found Ollie and Bruce standing close together, talking quietly. Bruce raised his head as the children entered the room, and Jason gasped. A trail of dried blood ran down the billionaire's face from a nasty looking gash just above his right eye.

"What's going on?" Roy demanded, taking in the scene before him.

Bruce and Ollie shared a brief glance before the Dark Knight answered. "I saw and fought Deathstroke, unfortunately he got away."

"What about Dick?" The young archer asked, his hands balling into tight fists.

"He was not with him."

Okay, some important update info: Charlie and I had a conversation today over snapchat, and she believes we can finish this story by the end of the summer if we update weekly. So we're going to try to do this. Of course, it all depends on whether Charlie can crank out the chapters, and if I can be bothered to get off my ass and look over them and update. But since it's summer, and we both have buttloads of spare time, it actually seems feasible. Of course, I am in no way promising you guys anything, but just telling you what may be to come.