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ajremixFun fact: there was an event called Sins of Youth in which almost all DC heroes got their ages switched around and, for reasons(?), Klarion (bumbumbum) the Witch Boy decided to de-age various villains to fight them, one of which was Cold. Bonus fact: the age switching temporarily stripped Kon/Superboy of his powers which in turn led to Mick working for Cadmus up until the Our Worlds at War event.
Title: Piss and Vinegar
Fandom: DCU
Rating: PG-13 for excessive swearing and technical underage drinking
Word Count: 1332
Characters: Len, Mark, briefly McCulloch
Summary: Right before the end of Sins of Youth. Mark gets to deal with Kid Cold.
"/Oi, Wiz. Pick up, ya fop./"
Mardon held back a long suffering sigh before excusing himself from the lovely- and now suspicious -lady he'd been chatting up. Making his way outside the bar, he pulled a mirror for the hidden pocket in his jacket, grimacing at the far-less-lovely face staring back at him. "What, McCulloch?"
"/You need t'be back here. Cold's back from whatever he's been up to and I ain't dealing with this on my own./"
Really? That's what was interrupting a promising evening? "For the love of- you've been hanging around long enough to know how to handle this. Just get him a beer and let him bitch."
"/I gave him a beer! Just... don't consider myself a decent bloke by any means but it don't feel right giving alcohol to a wean whose voice ain't even cracked./"
Mardon paused for a long moment. "Congratulations, McCulloch. You're even more incoherent than normal."
"/Ye heard 'bout the deal with all those heroes getting their ages mixed up? Turns out a buncha our type got kiddified./"
Mardon pinched the bridge of his nose. "And Cold was one of them."
"/'N Cold was one of 'em./"
It was times like this Mardon wished Mick was still around. For a guy obsessed with fire he kept a remarkably cool head when things got weird. "Fine, bring me in."
When he got there, Mardon wished he'd gotten more warning than 'Cold got kiddified'. He also wished he had a way to prevent McCulloch from running less than a second after. But he was there, alone, in the Rogues' hideout except for Kid Cold sitting at the table. Or at least Mardon assumed it was Cold. He had a snow vest, knit cap and goggles as opposed to his normal parka and visor but that was definitely a Cold-esque glower and a cold gun close at hand. His toes also didn't quite reach the ground and his favorite beer stein was nearly the size of his head.
Mardon started laughing.
"Get fucked."
As much as he wanted to retort that that had been his original plan for the night, the pitch of Cold's voice made him laugh harder. "Your- your voice! Oh god, have your balls even dropped?"
Cold fumed and it was adorable. "I might've changed but my aim hasn't. So shut your mouth, Mardon."
Mardon had to stuff a hand against his mouth to stifle his laughter. Cold's hand was twitching but he hadn't reached for his gun yet. Mardon took that as permission to sit. "So," he asked as Cold took a deep swig of his beer- McCulloch was right, it felt wrong watching him drink, "what happened?"
"Some gray skinned magic brat turned me and a bunch of others into kids."
"Did you at least get a reason why?"
"So we could be some kinda Junior Injustice League."
Mardon busted out laughing again. Cold turned red.
"I didn't name us that!"
"But you're using it!"
Mardon covered his face with his hands, trying to hide from Cold's silent glare. "Don't pout, oh god, don't pout. You're like an angry kitten, I'm dying." No wonder McCulloch left while he could, Mardon wasn't sure he was going to survive this. Belatedly he was glad Trickster was no longer around, James would've let this go precisely never.
The whine of the cold gun finally made Mardon pull himself together. He raised his hands in surrender, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. It's all out of my system now. After this we'll get some ice cream, call it a truce, deal?"
Cold's face lit. Up. "Really?" Everyone knew Cold was a sucker for ice cream but now he looked like Mardon was the savior of all mankind which damn near set him off again. Cold caught himself a moment after, turning his eager grin into another scowl. Cold took another drink and Mardon's hand itched to pull it away. Especially when Cold failed to hide the face he made at the taste.
"Okay, so you were turned into kids, fought the Kid Justice League and then what? You just came back like that?"
"Got sent back in the middle of the fight. Still not too sure the whys of anything. Spent most of my time before that throwing snowballs at Black Adam."
Mardon spluttered and turned his laugh into a cough. Cold picked up his stein again but set it back down, pushing it away slightly with a grimace. "You don't know how to change back, do you?"
"Nope," Cold popped the 'p'. "Bet the hero-types'll figure it out. They're not gonna leave Penguin an' Manta an' them kids 'cus they can't punch 'em." His words were slurring together and Mardon realized Cold's cheeks were still red. His stein was barely half full and already he was tipsy. Not that Mardon was entirely surprised- the kid lost the tolerance of more than two decades of heavy drinking on top of a hundred plus pounds of mass. "Being a kid bites."
"C'mon, being a kid again can't be that bad." Mardon just barely held back a snort, not buying his own words. "I mean, asides from having to go through puberty twice. But at least you don't have any body aches, right? Plus all the experience at your disposal, it's like being given a new start."
"An't constantly distracted by hormones." Cold's head thunked against his arms. "Don't know how those boy sidekicks hang around the lady heroes 'cus I couldn't focus during the fight. That Star kid grew up hot."
Mardon's eyebrows jumped. "Isn't she, like, 16?" Though, from context, he supposed she was one of the heroes that aged up. He wondered if one of the trashy hero magazines had a photo of her...
Cold buried his head further into his arms. "I know. Y'know how gross it is feeling like a dirty old man in a teenager's body?"
Can't say he did... "How old are you, anyway?"
"The hell should I know? 'S not like the witch brat wrote my age down for me!"
Mardon pressed his lips together thoughtfully. Sure, Cold knew how to survive on his own and- knowing how scrupulous the man was with his money -the means but the devil was in the details, as they said. There was no way he'd be able to drive, buy his own alcohol or hookers or even go watch his teams play by himself (the idea of Angie taking Kid Cold to a hockey game like an overpaid babysitter nearly had Mardon choking). Not to mention the amount of hassle he'd get trying to fence items or even pulling off heists considering his height. He didn't even want to imagine how easy it would be for the countless people that held a grudge against the Rogues and Cold in particular to over power the kid.
Shit. Shit shit shit. McCulloch already proved he wasn't willing to deal with this, Piper had long since washed his hands of them, Trickster was a Fed, Digger worked for Waller and Mick was determined to go legit. Which meant Mardon was the only one available to play adult supervision.
"You're sure the heroes are figuring out how to fix this, right?" He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice and wondered how much he'd need to drink before this all turned into a dream.
"They better." Cold pouted, sleepy and red-faced from his drink. Mardon would've found it hilarious if he wasn't internally panicking. "If Flasher turns back to normal and I'm still like this, 'm gonna kick 'im in the nuts." Behind his goggles, his eyes slipped closed and Cold promptly fell asleep.
Mardon downed the rest of Cold's forgotten beer and made a mental note to himself to see if he couldn't dig up Mick's contact info. Just in case Cold didn't change back. Maybe if he begged enough he could convince Mick becoming a de-aged criminal's guardian would score him points with the heroes.
Title: Piss and Vinegar
Fandom: DCU
Rating: PG-13 for excessive swearing and technical underage drinking
Word Count: 1332
Characters: Len, Mark, briefly McCulloch
Summary: Right before the end of Sins of Youth. Mark gets to deal with Kid Cold.
"/Oi, Wiz. Pick up, ya fop./"
Mardon held back a long suffering sigh before excusing himself from the lovely- and now suspicious -lady he'd been chatting up. Making his way outside the bar, he pulled a mirror for the hidden pocket in his jacket, grimacing at the far-less-lovely face staring back at him. "What, McCulloch?"
"/You need t'be back here. Cold's back from whatever he's been up to and I ain't dealing with this on my own./"
Really? That's what was interrupting a promising evening? "For the love of- you've been hanging around long enough to know how to handle this. Just get him a beer and let him bitch."
"/I gave him a beer! Just... don't consider myself a decent bloke by any means but it don't feel right giving alcohol to a wean whose voice ain't even cracked./"
Mardon paused for a long moment. "Congratulations, McCulloch. You're even more incoherent than normal."
"/Ye heard 'bout the deal with all those heroes getting their ages mixed up? Turns out a buncha our type got kiddified./"
Mardon pinched the bridge of his nose. "And Cold was one of them."
"/'N Cold was one of 'em./"
It was times like this Mardon wished Mick was still around. For a guy obsessed with fire he kept a remarkably cool head when things got weird. "Fine, bring me in."
When he got there, Mardon wished he'd gotten more warning than 'Cold got kiddified'. He also wished he had a way to prevent McCulloch from running less than a second after. But he was there, alone, in the Rogues' hideout except for Kid Cold sitting at the table. Or at least Mardon assumed it was Cold. He had a snow vest, knit cap and goggles as opposed to his normal parka and visor but that was definitely a Cold-esque glower and a cold gun close at hand. His toes also didn't quite reach the ground and his favorite beer stein was nearly the size of his head.
Mardon started laughing.
"Get fucked."
As much as he wanted to retort that that had been his original plan for the night, the pitch of Cold's voice made him laugh harder. "Your- your voice! Oh god, have your balls even dropped?"
Cold fumed and it was adorable. "I might've changed but my aim hasn't. So shut your mouth, Mardon."
Mardon had to stuff a hand against his mouth to stifle his laughter. Cold's hand was twitching but he hadn't reached for his gun yet. Mardon took that as permission to sit. "So," he asked as Cold took a deep swig of his beer- McCulloch was right, it felt wrong watching him drink, "what happened?"
"Some gray skinned magic brat turned me and a bunch of others into kids."
"Did you at least get a reason why?"
"So we could be some kinda Junior Injustice League."
Mardon busted out laughing again. Cold turned red.
"I didn't name us that!"
"But you're using it!"
Mardon covered his face with his hands, trying to hide from Cold's silent glare. "Don't pout, oh god, don't pout. You're like an angry kitten, I'm dying." No wonder McCulloch left while he could, Mardon wasn't sure he was going to survive this. Belatedly he was glad Trickster was no longer around, James would've let this go precisely never.
The whine of the cold gun finally made Mardon pull himself together. He raised his hands in surrender, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. It's all out of my system now. After this we'll get some ice cream, call it a truce, deal?"
Cold's face lit. Up. "Really?" Everyone knew Cold was a sucker for ice cream but now he looked like Mardon was the savior of all mankind which damn near set him off again. Cold caught himself a moment after, turning his eager grin into another scowl. Cold took another drink and Mardon's hand itched to pull it away. Especially when Cold failed to hide the face he made at the taste.
"Okay, so you were turned into kids, fought the Kid Justice League and then what? You just came back like that?"
"Got sent back in the middle of the fight. Still not too sure the whys of anything. Spent most of my time before that throwing snowballs at Black Adam."
Mardon spluttered and turned his laugh into a cough. Cold picked up his stein again but set it back down, pushing it away slightly with a grimace. "You don't know how to change back, do you?"
"Nope," Cold popped the 'p'. "Bet the hero-types'll figure it out. They're not gonna leave Penguin an' Manta an' them kids 'cus they can't punch 'em." His words were slurring together and Mardon realized Cold's cheeks were still red. His stein was barely half full and already he was tipsy. Not that Mardon was entirely surprised- the kid lost the tolerance of more than two decades of heavy drinking on top of a hundred plus pounds of mass. "Being a kid bites."
"C'mon, being a kid again can't be that bad." Mardon just barely held back a snort, not buying his own words. "I mean, asides from having to go through puberty twice. But at least you don't have any body aches, right? Plus all the experience at your disposal, it's like being given a new start."
"An't constantly distracted by hormones." Cold's head thunked against his arms. "Don't know how those boy sidekicks hang around the lady heroes 'cus I couldn't focus during the fight. That Star kid grew up hot."
Mardon's eyebrows jumped. "Isn't she, like, 16?" Though, from context, he supposed she was one of the heroes that aged up. He wondered if one of the trashy hero magazines had a photo of her...
Cold buried his head further into his arms. "I know. Y'know how gross it is feeling like a dirty old man in a teenager's body?"
Can't say he did... "How old are you, anyway?"
"The hell should I know? 'S not like the witch brat wrote my age down for me!"
Mardon pressed his lips together thoughtfully. Sure, Cold knew how to survive on his own and- knowing how scrupulous the man was with his money -the means but the devil was in the details, as they said. There was no way he'd be able to drive, buy his own alcohol or hookers or even go watch his teams play by himself (the idea of Angie taking Kid Cold to a hockey game like an overpaid babysitter nearly had Mardon choking). Not to mention the amount of hassle he'd get trying to fence items or even pulling off heists considering his height. He didn't even want to imagine how easy it would be for the countless people that held a grudge against the Rogues and Cold in particular to over power the kid.
Shit. Shit shit shit. McCulloch already proved he wasn't willing to deal with this, Piper had long since washed his hands of them, Trickster was a Fed, Digger worked for Waller and Mick was determined to go legit. Which meant Mardon was the only one available to play adult supervision.
"You're sure the heroes are figuring out how to fix this, right?" He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice and wondered how much he'd need to drink before this all turned into a dream.
"They better." Cold pouted, sleepy and red-faced from his drink. Mardon would've found it hilarious if he wasn't internally panicking. "If Flasher turns back to normal and I'm still like this, 'm gonna kick 'im in the nuts." Behind his goggles, his eyes slipped closed and Cold promptly fell asleep.
Mardon downed the rest of Cold's forgotten beer and made a mental note to himself to see if he couldn't dig up Mick's contact info. Just in case Cold didn't change back. Maybe if he begged enough he could convince Mick becoming a de-aged criminal's guardian would score him points with the heroes.
