Perfect Vision (C)

[Kregor8]

Ok. This is my first fan fic and all that, if anything goes wrong, blah, blah, blah. heh. Anyway, this story is titled Perfect Vision, because that was the original title, though it now has very little to do with the story. If anyone thinks of a better title, don't hesitate to submit it.

This story isn't your typical TT fan fic. I don't introduce an new character. Wait, yes I do. I don't put said new character in a romance with Raven. Oh, yeah I do. There is not gratuitous violence in my story. Yeah right. And there's no Robin/Starfire romance. Give me a break. Of course there are all these things! All the best fan fics have them, and I only follow their example!:D

So why is my story atypical? You'll find out. And as an apology, I've been reading The Tale of Two Citiesand I think it's rubbed off a bit on me. There isn't much action in the first few chapters and so I've tried to put some interesting fillers in to make things happen and still pull the plot along. Plus, I'm working on a prologue that will give a bit of backstory, but I'm stuck on it, so this will be the first chapter.

Ok, here it is for you. It'll go right in the next post.

Kregor

[Kregor8]

Ok, 1st chapter.

Rain. It falls almost constantly. In the country, October is considered a beautiful time of year. In Old Jump City, it is considered just one gray, bleak month out of twelve equally gray months. People are not happy, nor are they friendly. Out of twelve million residents, only the top one percent of the populace can afford their own house. Everyone else just ignores each other.

The man glanced out the window, then back at the clock. Twenty more minutes until his client arrived. Slipknot blared from the stereo, a CD player over thirteen years old – the last year CD players were manufactured on any grand scale. The window looked out onto the dingy street below. “Once this street had over a million people traveling it per day,” the old timers always said. Though the man at the desk was only twenty-three, he too could remember a time when traffic was over one hundred thousand per day. He sighed, resting his elbows on the rickety old desk.

All the furniture in this room was old. The newest piece was the desk chair, and that was thirty years out of date. Antique was no longer the style of the city. That was the main reason it prevailed here – a rebel’s last outpost, as it were. The door was slightly ajar, and a pair of eyes was looking in through the crack.

Eventually, the door swung open in response to the new figure’s nudge.

“Got a minute?” the old man asked of seated figure. …overrated! I think I’m…

“Yeah.” …gonna be sick and it’s your fault! The CD was switched off.

“Rent’s due today. Today. You have the money?” The man was gruff, but did not have a cruel edge to his voice.

“No,” the man at the desk muttered, glancing at the clock again.

“When can you get it?” the landlord, who’s name was Travolli, sighed.

“Tonight.”

“All right. Why don’t you stop by for dinner? Mama Travolli would love to have you.”

“I’ll think about it.” Mr. Travolli pulled a slight smile as he turned to leave. He had asked this question of his tenant every week for the past three months, and still had never gotten a positive answer.

“I’ve got a job coming up tonight, so I probably won’t be able to make it. Tell Mama Travolli I’ll keep her in mind though.” It took an incredible amount of self-control for Mr. Travolli to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. This was the most he’d ever heard out of his tenant in one breath. He almost addressed the man again, but he noticed his gaze now focused on the picture of a young woman on the desk. Travolli sighed again and left the room.



Papa Travolli had barely made his exit when the door swung open again. The man looked up from the desk, surprised that his client actually made it on time, not to mention a few minutes early. But indeed, it wasn’t who he expected. A woman of medium height and light build was standing just inside. Her clothes were dark, grays and greens, but her most striking feature was her purple hair, done in a single, loose braid. That and her pale complexion were the only things that made her any different from any other woman who might have walked in.

“Trent Touren?” She directed the question to the man at the desk.

“Yes.”

“The mercenary?” Her voice was abnormally flat and emotionless.

“Vigilante. Who do you represent?” Trent made his voice as flat as hers.

“I represent myself – Jenny McFrae. I need some…information to be “captured.” I believe that is in your line of duty. I’ve heard good report about you from the locals,” the woman stated.

“I usually don’t do information grabs. I would charge the same as any more complex job. I might be more that you need.”

“I understand what the costs usually are, Mr. Touren. I’ve already made up my mind. The only thing that remains is to make up yours. I am willing to pay seventy-five percent in advance,” she said, flashing a roll of hundred credit notes. Trent’s eyebrow rose slightly.

“I understand. Pull up a seat, Miss McFrae, and we’ll talk business.” Jenny looked around and room, and pulled up the oldest chair that Trent had in his possession. She sat straight as a rod, with her hands folded on her lap. Trent kept his elbows on the desk. “You may begin when you feel ready.”

“Quite frankly, Mr. Touren, I don’t wish to give you any specifics until you are committed to the job.”

“Your choice.”

“Sometime before Sunday, a messenger will be arriving in Old Jump. He is reportedly a former US Marine. He is bringing in a report from a think tank on the East Coast. It’s heading for the New Jump City Council – mainly, the mayor. I need that report to not reach its intended destination. I need it for myself.” Jenny’s right eyebrow rose several centimeters when she said “myself.” This caused her forehead to wrinkle, but only halfway across. Then, the wrinkles were broken by smooth skin. She had a creepy way of talking that intrigued Trent. She sounded so removed from what she was saying – as if it didn’t concern her at all. Trent straightened in his chair.

“I’m sorry, Miss McFrae, but on principal, I cannot take a job involving the government. This has always been my policy.”

“You have something to hide.” Trent’s forehead furrowed and his eyebrows lowered as he glared at her. He then held his hand palm outward towards her, and passed his hand through the desk. It went smoothly through – the only visual change was similar to seeing the heat waves come off a hot road. Trent then placed both hands flat on the desk.

“According to “Racial Purity Code 6-15,” the anti-mutant measures, I should have left this country in the third deportation crisis. Yes, you might say I have something to hide.”

“You’ve managed to hide that for five years?”

“Yes, by avoiding government-involving contracts. And placing a credit or two in the right hand. Anyway, I’ll have to turn you down. I’m sorry. Maybe I can recommend someone else, like…” Trent was about to start listing names, but he stopped when he saw the cold look in Jenny’s eyes.

“No, no. Nobody else.” She got up and moved toward the door. At this point, the phones rang.

Trent had three different phones in his office – one from the nineteen fifties, one from the twenties, and one from two thousand and something. This was the one he answered.

‘Hello – Touren speaking,’ business in his tone.

‘Trent – this is Cassetti.’

‘Good to hear from you.’

‘Not really. I can’t make it by to pay my dues tonight.’

‘You’re joking.’

‘Dead serious. Dad’s been putting the thumb screws on, and I can’t take much more involvement. We’ll have to cancel the Delmolino contract tonight.’

‘You can’t do this to me, Alex. We’ve had this on for weeks. I need that cash tonight.’

‘Look, Trent, you know me. I’ve always paid up with you. You also know my dad. He can’t really be denied. What do you want me to do, ‘fess up all the stuff I’ve had you do for me? No, you can wait a week till he cools down and then I’ll bring you cash and a new contract.’

‘That’s it?’

‘And 5% interest rate, as usual.’

‘Then I’ll see you.’

‘You take care Trent.’

‘Yeah.’

Trent put down the phone. Jenny also had been holding a phone, which she set back in its cradle. Trent noticed she was still there and glared at her.

“Looks like you have quite a situation on your hands. I think you could stand to reconsider my offer. I’ll be back tomorrow, around the same time.” Jenny tossed a role of five credit notes onto the desk and walked out.

Trent picked up the roll. Nobody listened to anybody anymore.



“Might as well find out who this woman is,” he addressed this last remark to the picture of the young woman. “Did we always ignore each other so, Chrysanthemum?”

He pulled up a window on his computer. “Jenny McFrae” was the entry he put in the search box. No surprise, the search came up negative. He re-searched the name using known aliases. But even this search set at a 75% closeness came up negative. Still, he wasn’t surprised. Newbees in the business often were able to sneak through the system with an alias for weeks before somebody noticed. Fortunately, he had other resources.

Trent pulled a picture of Jenny’s face that his security camera had caught. It was when she had her eyebrow raised. He set the parameter to 66% match and ran the search. This time, something did come up, and now Trent was surprised. A newspaper article entitled, “Titans smash another drug ring” appeared on his screen. One of the photos had a caption that read, “Titans refuse to respond to questions about their sources of information.” The main figure in the picture was almost a dead ringer for “Jenny McFrae.” Except that she had a red jewel in the middle of her forehead in the picture, it could have just been taken by Trent’s camera. Even the eyebrow matched. Now he knew why her forehead didn’t wrinkle in the middle. Trent laughed softly.

“Raven.” He picked up the bills and left the room. Tonight, he would be dinning with the Travollis.

Please don't hesitate to review or correct my spelling and grammer or whatnot.
7<regor

[rrarbecy]

Damn...This looks great. YAY. ANOTHER RAVEN BASED FIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Must have more... or face the consequences. :evil:

[Rae]

Great start! i cant wait to see what happens

Keep posting as it looks like its gonna be a great fanfic!

[oneeyemonkeypie]

I must say, this is probably the best start to a fic I've ever seen on these boards.
EXCELLENT work, I love it!

is this in the future? like, is this an older raven, or are they the same age as they always were? something about it suggested whe was older to me.

[Merlin Missy]

Interesting. More?

MM:)

[Sproxie]

Damn...This looks great. YAY. ANOTHER RAVEN BASED FIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Must have more... or face the consequences. :evil:Exactly what he said!

[Alura]

Exactly what he said!
I second that!:D Another Raven fanfic, more Raven fans!:D YES!!!:D :D :D

[starburn1116]

*i offer you my words of shocked silence*

*and not every one gets that*

[Crowgirl]

*i offer you my words of shocked silence*

*and not every one gets that*
Agreed!! What else can I say?

[Alura]

Wow...http://www.rayneforum.com/images/smiles/15.gif (javascript:emoticon(':15'))

[Kregor8]

Wow, I can't believe how much you all loved this thing! I'm so touched. So, yeah. To make you happy and such, I'll answer a question and then post the first part of the prologue. Ok, here goes...

Oneeyemonkeypie: Thanks for the compliment. Yes, this is the future. The year is 2020 (get the title? *dig*). Raven is 31, Trent is 23. I think he's that old. I don't remember but I will!

Ok, next post will be prologue part one! And I'll stay up all freekin night to get part two done if I have to!

[Kregor8]

Ok, I promised. Here is the first part of the prologue. Oh yeah, Alura, I love that smiley.:D

Central Park, New York City. A sunny April day, 2015. The day all hell broke loose. The day nobody expected.

In the middle of the park, sitting on a bench, were two fine specimens of people who weren’t aware of events going on a few miles away. The only thing they were interested in was each other, and it seemed, how little space they could take on the bench without actually sitting on one another.

One of these two was a human male – large, strong, and chiseled. He was a Lieutenant in the United States Marine Corps, and looked every bit the part, even in civilian clothes. His hair was short and black, his eyes orange and fiery. When standing, he reached a good six foot two. His hands were large and callused, and on his left ring finger sat a single, gold band.

The match to this piece rested on the finger of the woman who sat with him. She, however, was decidedly not human. Her eyes were purple; her hair a shocking red, and her skin sparkled with a silver sheen. Her body was light, her figure sleek, and her movements had a catlike grace. The top of her head only reached her husband’s shoulder, but that didn’t matter to anybody. Even her alienness didn’t seem to matter to anyone of consequence – or so it was supposed.

April the ninth, 2015. A quiet Thursday for most. For those meeting in the United Nations General Session, it was a day of grave importance. Today was the day that alien deportation came to a final vote. The last vote before the UN would go to the press. Today was the day the world could be made a better place. Today was not the day to keep silent.



“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I’m your host Dan Rather, clone number six, and this is the CBS Evening News. Today the United Nations released a statement about aliens on the planet that will change the face of the world. In a monumental session today, the General Council gave to go ahead to deport aliens from any world off-planet. This issue is so hot, it can melt rubber. Our correspondent, Lin Chou Jung, is live on the scene in New York. Lin?”

“Good evening Dan. You were absolutely right when you called tonight’s announcement hot. Here in New York, I can smell the rubber. As you know, a year ago, in the interest of human safety, thousands of aliens from hostile planets such as Krrrshbli and Zimsalblat were forced to leave to planet. Though these aliens were know to be human eaters, and though since that deportation murder rates have dropped 69%, we barely avoided a interplanetary war. Tonight, delegates may have gone too far. Dan, they’ve just issued a proclamation that all people who are not of human origin must leave the planet within two months. This included residents from such earth-friendly planets as Tamaran and Skalmoth…”

This was all that the couple from the park needed to hear. The Skalmothian woman got up slowly from the couch. Her husband turned off the TV. Not gently, either.

“I’m not sure how much longer that old TV will last, the way you abuse it, Trent.” He growled something that wasn’t really an answer. She came over to where he was standing a put her arm around his shoulder. She didn’t say anything. They just looked out the window at the pseudo-daylight of the city.

“I don’t know, Chrysanthemum. I just don’t know.” Trent sank down into a chair.

“What don’t you know?” the woman, who’s actual name was Chrysthee-allaynogaahna Volitaccomum, sat down on his knee.

“I don’t see why it passed. I don’t see why the word didn’t get out sooner. I don’t see why nobody on the security council had the balls to stand up against this all. Especially my father. I mean…doesn’t he get it?”

“You’re going to go see him?”

“You’re damn right I am. He has to listen to me.”

“You realize you haven’t spoken in over two years?”

“I know.”

“Not since our wedding day.”

“I know.”

“He hates me.”

“I Know! No! He doesn’t. He doesn’t hate you.” Trent went on, muttering to himself. Chrysanthemum just sat there. Trent pounded his fist once on the door casing, and then looked at his wife. The TV sat silent, as if it were daring him to do something.

*pound*

“Look out there! Look at this city! This place is full of **** and they don’t even care! Look!”

“Trent, Trent. Come sit down. We still have time. It’s not over yet. Two months…”

“Oh, this sure isn’t over yet. Don’t worry, Chrysten,” he patted her on the shoulder on his way to the door. “Don’t wait up for me. I’m going to see dad.”

Chrysanthemum looked up for a moment, then placed her head back into her silvered hands.

OK. High risk here, I've only proofed this once myself. Feel free to point out errors or plot breaks or something you just thing is so great that your bursting. Ok, got to go.

[Alura]

Ok, I promised. Here is the first part of the prologue. Oh yeah, Alura, I love that smiley.:D

OK. High risk here, I've only proofed this once myself. Feel free to point out errors or plot breaks or something you just thing is so great that your bursting. Ok, got to go.Thanks!http://www.rayneforum.com/images/smiles/14.gif (javascript:emoticon(':14'))

The story is coming out perfectly! I didn't see any spelling errors or plot breaks etc. (though that may be due to the pure AWSOMENESS of it!) http://www.rayneforum.com/images/smiles/22.gif (http://javascript<b></b>:emoticon(':22'))

Sorry about that...:sweat:

Keep writing!http://www.rayneforum.com/images/smiles/34.gif (http://javascript<b></b>:emoticon(':34'))

[Kregor8]

Ok, I promised you all I would have the rest of the prologue up tonight. Here it is, still smoking from the press. Enjoy it all!



New York was wide-awake. Few people even tried to pretend to sleep. The strangest thing of all was that one of the few who did actually sleep had no business doing so. In the Residences at the Ritz, Battery Park, the US delegate to the United Nations slept soundly. No nightmare filled his head; no noise disturbed his sleep. There was no sound as a figure stepped, ghost-like, out of the wall. Nor was there a footfall heard as he stepped to the side of the bed. This silence, however, had come to an end.
“Dr. Touren – wake up. You have no business sleeping.” The voice that spoke was low, rough, and angry. Dr. Touren bolted upright, a pistol pointed at the intruder’s head.

“Are you really going to use that on me, dad?”

“Trent. What a surprise.”

“Indeed.”

“How’d you get in?”

“How’d you think?”

“What do you want?”

“What were you doing today?”

“Today?”

“Were you even in the General Session tonight?”

“I’m always there.”

“And?”

“And?” By this point, Dr. Touren had put down the gun. He didn’t believe his son was any threat to his well being. He also hadn’t expected Trent to show up so soon after the deportation announcement was made. Trent stood, arms crossed, beside the bed – a monolith of unmoving anger.

“You expect that I can hear the headlines on every channel on television and not be angry with you? You did nothing! You just shut up and couldn’t take a stand against what you knew…know is just…just absolute hatred. Of people. Human rights violation.”

“Trent, they’re not human.”

“Damn you, I know they’re not!” Trent’s curse and roar woke the figure beside Dr. Touren.

“What’s going on, Leum?” The sleepy, female voice was barely audible.

“Nothing, go back to sleep.”

“I didn’t know I’d stepped into a full bedroom,” Trent’s voice was as loaded with malice as Leum’s revolver was with bullets.

“She’s the Venezuelan delegate.”

“Well, how did she vote?”

“Against deportation.”

“And you?”

*silence*

“Dad, how did you vote?”

“I abstained.”

“YOU ABSTAINED?”

“Leum, that’s not nothing. That’s a roaring lunatic.”

“I’m not a lunatic, miss.”

“Just shoot him, Leum.”

“Trent, lets go in the other room, shall we?” Dr. Touren put on a white bathrobe with the UN’s blue logo on the left breast. He and his son left the bedroom. The living room light faded slowly on as Dr. Touren entered the room. He poured himself a brandy; Trent just shook his head. After some sighing and staring out the window, Leum sat on the couch.

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

“You’re a security council member – a permanent fixture in the UN. Your word is like the Pope’s. Like God’s. Everyone respects you there.”

“I don’t see…”

“You can call this entire issue a matter of top national and international security. You can call for more debate, for interplanetary delegates, for anything you want, and you will get it. You didn’t. You could have. And now my family is going to be destroyed because of you.”

“You’re so dramatic, Trent,” Dr. Touren sipped his brandy. “True, I could call for more talks, but this issue has been being talked about for months, and finally, finally, somebody has gotten something to vote and we’re moving forward on an issue…”

“That could very well destroy the planet.”

“Again, with the dramatics. Even so, your wife isn’t being taken away tonight. You can find time to relocate, do something new.”

“We’re being thrown off planet because of this.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Why don’t you go home and try to think this through. For all you know, this could be the best for everybody.”

“The best? The best? I’ll tell you what’s best. What’s best right now is my wife, who happens to not be homo sapien and the fact that right now, she’s carrying our son! What’s best is that we get to live in a free place where people don’t stare and point, where “Half-breed” isn’t the degradation of the day. What’s best is –” Trent threw his arms up in a gesture of helpless defeat. He pivoted on his toe and walked toward the wall.

“I expect to see some things changed,” was all he muttered before he stepped into the wall. A shimmer, and the room was once again empty, save Leum, and all was quiet. Leum’s gaze stayed fixed to the place his son had disappeared from. He set down his unfinished glass, and shuffled back to his bedroom. The light faded out behind him.



<The following are a collection of newspaper articles and television broadcasts from April 10th and 11th, 2015>

April 10th

US Security Council member publicly denounces deportation; calls for more time – The New York Times



Dr. Leum Touren calls deportation “Inhumane” and “A disgrace” – The Washington Times



“Today the world was shocked by top US rep to the UN, Dr. Leum Touren’s, press release that calls the deportations “an inhumane way to treat visitors to this world” and “A disgrace on all human kind, not see since the days when men kept other men as slaves.” When questioned why he waited to call for more talks until after the vote at the General Session on the 9th, Dr. Touren responded that he “wanted the people of the world to get a glimpse of what was going on behind the scenes.”



April 11th

World shocked! After call for more debate, it all seems pointless. – The Boston Globe

Violence in the Streets. Riots make deportations seem a pleasant choice. – The New York Post

“Hello, I’m Dan Rather, clone six. Tonight it seems that all calls for moderation and consideration in the deportation crisis dawning are now pointless. <A pan scene of a burning car in NYC and a person standing with one foot on a bloody body> ‘We will not stop killing until our wrongs are righted! Those who are responsible will be made to pay for what they have done.’ <cut back to Dan> That scene taken this morning after the killing of several UN delegates who were known to have voted for deportation. The perpetrators were known to be alien activists, Tamaranian, Scyllapplian, many others, who have started street riots in response to deportation talks by the UN.”

All NYC aliens rounded up – placed in detention on moon – The Washington Times

New York City under lockdown – moon prison destination for many – The LA Times



Dr. Touren awoke to find a Marine’s survival knife stuck in the wall beside his bed. Between the knife point and the wall was a single sheet of paper. On it were the words, “Find her.”



Trent paced the floor. It had been four days, and he was at the very edge of sanity. The phone rang, and he snapped it up before the end of the first ring.

“’Ello!”

“Trent?”

“Yeah”

“It’s me.”

“You found her?”

“Yeah, Trent…”

“What?”

“She caught moon virus.”

“Moon virus?”

“Trent…she’s dead. Hello? Hello?”

The phone lay on the floor where it had fallen.

A silver and black motorcycle shot out of the city, heading west.

I hope I got the mood I was after. Anyway, the next chapter will be back to Titans stuff. Some action and whatnot. I promise the next part of the story I post will be a Raven bit. :D

Oh, I might post durring the week, but don't expect a new chapter till next Fri/Sat. That's when I'll put it up, even if it's done sooner.

[rrarbecy]

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
sorry:sweat: I just cant get over Dan Rather clone number 6
By the way, THAT WAS FREAKIN' AWESOME.
DAMN YOU'RE GOOD
MUST HAVE MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Sproxie]

This story is GREAT!
keep wrting! the next chap is gonna be about raven?.... cool!

[Kregor8]

Ok. My last chapter did post, but the text is all grey and can't be easilly read against the background of this site. I'll try posting it again right here. Hope you can all read it. I guess that will teach me to preview my posts before submitting. :D

Rain continued to fall steadily in Old Jump City, but that didn’t seem to deter people from doing strange things. In south-east Chinatown, a man in a mask held up an elderly couple in front of Wu-Lei’s market. Half-way across the city, at a small French-imitation café, a young couple shared a bottle of port. More near the center of the city, an even younger couple shared their first kiss. And in the Italian district, a woman sat in meditation on a flat, thirty-five-story roof. The rain drenched all of them.

A small public park was the setting for this young couple. One of the most beautiful places in the city, some might have argued, but for these two it didn’t matter. The only thing Samantha noticed was George, and George had eyes only for Samantha. But they were not alone in this, their oasis in a desert of a city. A single, green eye stared at them from behind a tree. A large, black patch – reminiscent of those worn by the Caribbean pirates of old, covered this evil eye’s mate. The face that found itself attached to this glaring gem seemed to be a mere extension of the hate that the eye embodied. The nose, hooked; the jaw, angular; the hair, slick; the teeth, sharp; the tongue, forked. This visage continued to watch the blissfully unaware George and Samantha. Rain pooled under them, but they paid no heed.

The rooftop was visible to the mediator – though her eyes were shut. It shimmered in her mind, the ghostly counterpart to its physical solidness. Her body no longer seemed tied to the material world, as it floated above the rooftop. Three words repeated themselves in her mind – they had long ago ceased to pass her lips. Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos. The three words that meant the entire world to her, yet not for the world could she pull their original meanings back into her mind. Her vision drifted from the rooftop where she hovered outward to the city. It was searching for something, this second sight. It went where it wanted. It went where it needed. And the rain still fell.

The shadow moved from behind the tree. Shadow became shape, and shape became a body. The body that complimented the head with the single green eye was large, muscular, and covered in black. Even the hands were covered to the tips of the long fingers. There was an impression of a chiseled stone about this…thing, for man it was not. The eye, which cast its green light now directly on the couple, was as alien to this world as the green blood that flowed through the veins of this horror. A Krrrshbliak stood before George and Samantha – that form feared throughout the outer rim, for its reputation not only as a bounty hunter, but as a human flesh eater. This Krrrshbliak preferred his meat young and fresh. The rain’s acidity on his alien tongue only increased his hunger.

Azarath…azarath…she found herself now moving so rapidly through the ghost city that the words ceased even to repeat their mental droning. Her mind was looking for something – someone – familiar. Face after face flashed by – some sleeping, some waking. Some working, some playing. Some laughing, some crying. Some loving, some hating. Oh, she felt the haters. They were the ones who cast their auras most solidly outward. Hatred could be felt miles away. A garden flashed into view. No, it was a park. A park with a bench. A bench with two young lovers on it. Raven’s mind projection smiled. Almost a mile away, her body didn’t stir from its position, coved with rain.

“How sweet. Do your parents know you’re out so late? And alone too…” the alien finally spoke in its snakelike voice. Finally, George and Samantha snapped out of their trance and they noticed what stood before them. Samantha hugged George tighter, and buried her head in his shoulder.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” her small voice repeated over and over.

“Jesus Christ, Mother Mary, and all the holy saints,” George prayed. The Krrrshbliak hissed.

“I have no time for religion, small ones. I’ve come for a feast. You seem like fine specimens.” The alien reached out his hand and pulled Samantha away from George. It held her by her collar, and looked her over.

“Yes, nice and juicy. And real meat on the bones this time too. Rrrygbar, you really know how to pick them.” His forked tongue snaked out of his mouth and curled around her throat.

“Oh god! George, he’s…choking me! He…lp.” Samantha stared down at the krrrshbliak as his green tongue was enveloped in black – what seemed to be a physical manifestation of darkness itself. The tongue was ripped from the mouth of the alien, falling to the ground, dark green blood flowing from the mouth that once held it. The Krrrshbliak screeched in fury and lunged at Samantha, who had taken refuge once again with George. Rrrygbar’s leap was halted in midair, however, as he became wrapped in a blanket of crackling, obsidian energy. Samantha a second time hid her face in George’s shoulder as the krrrshbliak was crushed to death and thrown into the bushes. George could have sworn he saw the shape of a giant black bird ascend from the site and disappear into the sky.

“Sam…Sam. It’s over. Let me take you home.”

“Yes, yes, please,” she sobbed.

Raven snapped out of her trance suddenly, shaking her head. The red glow was still fading from her eyes. She didn’t lose control anymore. Not as an adult. It just didn’t happen. She picked herself up and walked inside. The rain’s cold touch was finally shut out.



• • •



Trent’s desk was piled with computer printouts. He had data spanning the last twenty years at his fingertips electronically, yet he was still always reduced to digging through a mass of dossiers and case files to find the one piece of information he knew he had already. On his left were pictures of different Titans members from the past twelve years, to the right were stacks of criminals put behind bars by the Titans, and from the bottom of a large pile he pulled a newspaper article from five years ago titled,

In View of Deportations, Titans Disband

In that article was the latest information on the whereabouts of the six original Titans, and it was five years old. In a gesture of frustration far older than paper itself, Trent banged his head on the desk. What was he dragging himself into? Was he actually considering taking a job for the Titans – the most public of all superhero organizations the world had ever know? It wasn’t possible that after five years of hiding in the backwoods of a neglected city he would make a definite move towards publicity! Ludicrous! His head still smarting, Trent struck the desk with his fist before beginning to clear off most of the papers. He still needed a plan for when Raven showed up.



• • •



The city was darkening, even at this early hour. Raven glanced at the clock tower of the First Episcopal Church of Jump. 4:30 – a little less than an hour before she was supposed to meet Touren. She was confident that he would take the job. She’d had a productive day. Early in the day, she had paid a visit to Alex Cassetti, a subdued young man who’s father was a major operator in Old Jump. From him she had learned a little about Trent Touren – that he was from New York and had gotten out before the city was obliterated from the face of the earth. She knew about some of the contracts that he had taken for different families in the city. She had his official police record, which consisted of three motorcycle speeding tickets, a hacker charge that was never proved, and close ties to several convicted killers.

Yes, she expected to have Trent Touren working for her by six o’clock. The day after, she planned for him to be intercepting the City Council’s messenger, and on Friday the information she needed would be in her hands.

Ok! Hope you all like this stuff. Part 2 of Chapter 2 comming soon.

[raven54]

hey i know what 3rd person omniscient is- that's the third-person all-knowing narrator type, right?

in any case- i love it! very well written and serious. post more soon!

[Raven37]

I loved it, it was really good!!! Write more!!!:D

[Sproxie]

Great! post soon!

[oneeyemonkeypie]

I really must repeat-I love this fic. It's so well done and expertly written.

having said that I have a few complaints
1. as cool as depressing stories are, thats all I read in AP lit. I come here for lighter and easier reading, so I am expecting the titans to get back together, or at least reconcile their differences.
2. You never post in any other threads. GO DO THAT. Dont just lurk, join the community!:D

[Kregor8]

Yes! I am tremendously happy right now (as indicated by my "Happy Raven" avatar). I found a file that contained all the work I did on my story!
*dances for joy, stops when he realizes how stupid he looks*
All righty then, as my aunt says. Now you get both the end of chapte two and the beginning of chapter three all at once! That's 2,600 words of Titany goodness for you.

Actually, I'm not sure how good it actually is, it's not that Titany (yet) and it's also closer to 2,700 words. But by now, you really want to read it - so here's chapter two, part 2. I'll post chapter 3 seperately, so you won't confuse them.

The room was set for Raven’s arrival. Nothing indicating in any way that Trent knew her identity was visible, though easily accessible to Trent. He glanced again at the article he had earlier singled out. Focusing on the picture of his wife that always sat on his desk, he began to talk to himself.

“Won’t I feel stupid if it turns out I’m wrong again?” The photo just smiled back.

“Yes, you always trust me, don’t you? I’ll always do what’s best for us, won’t I? Well…” Trent voice choked off with frustration and anger. “Not this time, maybe! I’m not so perfect.” He rarely stopped to think about how ludicrous his anger with a single smiling photo was, yet this time it struck him as forcefully as if Chrysanthemum had reached out a slapped him across the face. Trent shut his eyes, exhaled, and waited for “Jenny McFrae” to arrive.



• • •



The stairs creaked as Raven climbed to the third floor where Trent Touren’s office resided. She wondered, knowing the amount of cash that Trent had taken from the various “jobs” he did around town, why he lived in such a run down place. When she met him yesterday, he didn’t have the aura of a drug addict or a drunkard. Even Alex Cassetti said that Trent was always sober – that was one of the reasons he was such a good operative. Raven placed her thoughts at the back of her mind as she rapped on the door.

“Come in.”

Raven ran her hand over her hair, flicking rain water onto the dingy floorboards before turning the knob. Behind the door, Trent Touren sat behind his ancient wood desk, just as he had yesterday. He spoke first.

“Please, pull up a chair.” Raven – Jenny, Jenny, you ridiculous girl – pulled up the same chair she had used the day before. Indeed, today seemed to be a close replication of yesterday – except this time, Jenny would be getting her way. She was sure of it.

“Let’s get right to business, Mr. Touren. You’ve reconsidered my offer, I assume?”

“I have though about it.”

“Have you made up your mind?”

“I may have. If you don’t mind, I have a short clipping from the paper I would like to bring to your attention. Then perhaps you could answer some questions I might have?” Jenny nodded her head slightly.

“Then I shall begin.” Trent retrieved the paper that he had applied so much attention to. “This article is from roughly five years ago – May 3, 2015. The title is In ‘View of Deportations, Titans Disband.’” While speaking, Trent was carefully watching his client for any reaction. So far, there had been none. He laid the front page down on the desk, the page that bore a picture of the six original Titans. Still no reaction.

“I shall now read the article. ‘Ever since the April announcement of the deportation of all aliens from Earth, it has been debated what the fate of Jump City’s local hero team, The Titans, will be. In the recent weeks, we have seen the President of the United States himself extend an invitation to the Titans, particularly Starfire of Tamaran, specifically an exemption from deportation. The Titans, however, have made their own decision. “We’ve decided, for everybody’s sakes, we ought to just leave Earth,” said Titan’s leader Nightwing. “Particularly because of our children, we want them to be able to grow up in an environment that isn’t going to be openly hostile to them.” When asked where they were planning on going, Nightwing failed to comment. “All I can say is that Starfire and I are taking our children and leaving Earth. What the rest of the Titans plan to do is up to them.” Victor Stone, better known as Cyborg, has stated that he is taking a position in the Jump City Law Enforcement Agency. Garfield Logan and his wife Tara have stated they will not remain in Jump city, but did not divulge their destination. The Titan known only as Raven refused to give a statement.’ It goes on, with some history stuff. I don’t think I need to read all that.” Trent still had not gotten the reaction he was hoping for, yet the total calm of his client was beginning to encourage him.

“Your point being, Mr. Touren?”

“There’s just one thing about this all that’s been bothering me. Since this article, some people have reported sightings of Garfield and Tara; Nightwing and Starfire are known to be on Altair 4, and Stone, of course, is still here in Jump City. But nobody has seen Raven.” Jenny raised her eyebrow in her singular manner. “Now I’m worried, because I think I’ve finally found out where Raven went, but nobody is going to believe me after five years of her disappearance. What should I do?”

Jenny sat a moment, then spoke in her flat, calm voice.

“May I ask where you believe that Raven went, after the Titans disbanded?” Trent laid the picture he had taken of Jenny yesterday beside a printout of the picture of Raven. Side by side, you could hardly tell that both photos weren’t taken at the same time – only the different angles and the lack of the red jewel on Jenny’s forehead separated them. Jenny looked at the pictures. Trent looked at Jenny, and was silent.

“Are you trying to say that I’m Raven of the Titans?” Jenny finally asked.

“I don’t know, am I?” More silence. Suddenly, both pictures were torn to sheds by fingers of black energy.

“All right, that didn’t last long. Yes, I’m Raven. I suspected you’d find out sooner or later. I had hoped it would be later…I don’t need the word to spread that I’m in town, though.”

“Oh, absolutely not. I never compromise the security of my clients.”

“So you are taking the job.” It was not a question. It was a statement of fact.

“Only one more question – am I taking a job for the Titans, or am I taking a job for Raven?”

“You’re taking a job for Jenny McFrae.”

“You know I’m not going to call you that, Raven.”

“We’ll see,” she said, as papers floated to her encased in black energy. She took a pen from the desk and started writing in a clear, minute hand.

“This is the information you’re going to need to intercept the messenger. I’ve put down all the stops we know he’s making…”

“We?”

“Me, and will be you and me after you read this.”

“Of course.”

“His rough physical description is here, as is a full list of what you need to get from him.”

“What do I do with the messenger, once I have your package?”

“I’m sure you can figure that out on your own. For now, this is everything. you’re going to need. If he’s on schedule, which he will be, he’ll get into town tomorrow night and meet with the City Council first thing the next morning. You can handle this in so little time, can’t you?”

“Rest assured, Raven. I’ve got it all under control.”

“So you say,” she muttered, plopping fifteen hundred credits worth of notes onto the desk. She turned to leave.

“Where do I contact you when the job is done?” Trent stood up behind the desk.

“You don’t. I’ll come back here when you’ve got the package.”

“And you’ll know that I have it, because?”

“I’ll know.”

“All right then, Raven. Thank you for your business.” Raven rolled her eyes up into her head as she shut the door behind her. Trent reached for the telephone.

‘Hi, Alex? This is Trent. Hey, I need you to do me a favor. It just might be enough to cover those funds you owe me.’


Ok, get ready for chapter 3, part one.

[Kregor8]

And here's the beginning of chapter 3! And I'm switching to a new disk, because this one is too damaged to be reliable anymore.

Trent Touren sat in the back seat of a retro, black Buick – nineteen twenties style, but powered by fuel cells. Technical wonder aside, it looked like a gangster car. Even the driver looked like a gangster, and he probably was. Even the sitting outside a dark building waiting for a contact made Trent think of old movies he had seen, but that didn’t really matter. This was just the wrapping on a gift he was giving to Raven – the information from the East coast that she valued so much. A car passed his, travelling slowly down the road, another car close behind it. Trent’s driver pulled out behind this last car – the car of the messenger. A little bit of skillful maneuvering, and he was forced to a halt. As soon as the car stopped moving, the back door was yanked open by more of Trent’s men, and the messenger was dragged into the waiting building. Trent smiled as he climbed out of his car, checking his pistol. Everything was going according to plan.



• • •

“I’ve got movement at eight o’clock. Two black sedans and a tan one. You want me to make a move yet?”

“No, hold up, man. Seems like our informer’s been right so far – we’ll let it play out a little more.”

“Roger that, Stone.”



• • •

When Trent stepped inside the room on the fifth floor, the messenger was already blindfolded and tied to a chair. Two strong henchmen were standing guard, one on either side. Trent made a motion to them and they left the room, shutting the door behind them. Trent walked around to the right side of the prisoner, who had his back to the only window in the room. A black attaché case was on the floor at the side of the chair. Trent picked it up.

“So, this is the famous package we were told to look out for.”

“I don’t know how famous it is,” replied the man in the chair, “but I have to get it to the City Council by tomorrow morning or there’ll be hell to pay.” At the sound of the man’s voice, Trent started. Then he stared at the blindfolded figure, before tearing the cloth off his eyes.

“Major General Armstrong?”

“Lieutenant Touren? Funny meeting you here.” Trent smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you before this. What are you doing, transferring information across the country?”

“And what are you doing taking it away from me? Would you untie me?” Trent undid the straps.

“I’m kind of a private contractor now,” Trent answered as he untied the last rope. “Somebody paid me to get this package for them.”

“You have any idea what this case even contains?”

“Not a clue.”

“Then let me inform you. Sit down, Lieutenant.”



• • •

Victor Stone gave the go signal. Three men in black camo appeared out of thin air, cloaking devices switched off. They fired quick bursts of stun-rays into the goons at the front door, before bursting inside.

“I want this whole area secured! Keep the leaders alive!” The sound of a M-16 snapped through the air, bullets bouncing off the floor and the armored SWAT members.

“Holy crapper! Watching it, Harry! These guys have cloud armor!” The M-16 rang out again, before being cut off by a well placed plasma burst. Stone grunted as he fired at Harry – four shots tonight but only three hits. He’d have to do better than that.

*Shwooof!* *tat-atat-atata!* The AK clattered to the floor as Harry clutched the smoking spot on his chest. He moaned softly as he writhed on the floor.

“Dude, toughen up. It’s not a fatal blow,” one of the soldiers muttered as he fired a stun ray into Harry’s smoking body. That seemed to be all the guards on the first and second floors.

“So, do we take the stairs, or create our own entrance?” the second soldier asked. Stone’s internal scanners ran an infrared on the ceiling. Four more guys upstairs, it looked like. His right arm transformed from plasma gun to sonic cannon.

“I think we make our own entrance this time, guys. Let’s do this!” He fired a blast into the roof, bringing down cement, metal, wood, and two screaming gangsters. The second soldier, Tony, quickly stunned them. “All right, ya’ll! Move!” was the command Stone shouted out before leaping twelve feet up into the hole he just blasted. He was met with a flurry of bullets from a MAC10, but only five out of a clip of fifty managed to hit him. The shock of these was instantly absorbed by his cloud armor, and the gangster was slammed through the wall by a sonic blast.

“I gotta remember to switch that back!” Victor scolded himself as his teammates took down the last two men. So there had been more than four. Better get his scanners re-checked.

“Ok, boys. We’ve done good so far. This one we take through the windows. Tony and Wesley, take the north. Gamma, your coming through the west with me. Careful guys – we don’t need to be blastin each other off the side of the building. Ready? Take your positions. I’ll give the signal by radio.” Stone and Gamma each jumped to a window on the west face of the building. Gamma was holding an auto-blaster, Stone enabled his plasma gun. He glanced at Gamma, who gave him a thumbs up. He mentally counted to three, then shouted into his radio.

“Move, move, move!”

Six men were standing in the main room on the fourth floor. Suddenly the four windows burst inward, and the room was showered in charged electrical particles. Flying glass did some damage too – one man was hit in the arm with a large shard. Four others were dropped by the auto-blasters, but the last man was able to take a shot at Tony with a 9mm. The bullet hit him in the joint of his left arm, stopped by the armor from penetrating, but still breaking the bone by sheer impact force. The gangster was immediately fried by a plasma blast. As he lay smoking on the ground, Stone turned to his team.

“Wesley, see what you can do for Tony. Gamma and I will take the last floor ourselves. And try to stop that bleeding, if you get the chance,” he added, pointing his thumb at the man with the glass piece in his arm. “Come on Gamma, let’s make’m fear us.”



• • •

Trent had been sitting on the bed in the corner of the room, listening to Maj. General Armstrong explain what was in the case. He still hadn’t opened it, but he now knew it was a set of chemical formulas and instructions on a new biological weapon that had just been developed by the MRDWA (Moon-based Research of Deadly Weapons Association). That this briefcase contained detailed information on the disease – it symptoms, how to treat it, and most importantly, how to produce it. The disease was code-named “Arakis” because it was usually administered in a powder that had a strong, cinnamon spice smell to it. Armstrong was just about to tell who had sent him on this delivery when they heard the noise below.

“Sounds like trouble,” Trent said, jumping up and kicking the case under the bed. “Be ready.” Just as Maj. General Armstrong stood up from the chair, a shot rang out. The bullet came smashing through the window, continued through Armstrong’s chest, and imbedded itself in the door. Trent whipped out his Desert Eagle and fired two rounds off at where the shot had come from. As he fired the second shot, Victor and Gamma burst in the door.

“Freeze! Drop the gun!” Trent did drop the gun, but sidestepped away from the window as he raised his hands.

“Looks like quite a mess here. Gamma, check the guy on the floor. You, man, are really in it now.” Gamma looked at Armstrong’s body and check for pulse.

“He’s dead, sir.”

“Ok you, you’re going in for accessory to murder now. Gamma, get a clean up squad in here.” Stone secured Trent’s hands behind his back and led him out.


Hope you like this. I'm not very good at writing for Cyborg (or Beast Boy, it so happens), so tell me if I managed to get by fine. Maybe I'll have the chapter finished this weekend.

[Matt A]

Quite frankly, this has the best story I've seen on here since Vanishing Act. The whole "film noir" thing isn't something that gets tried very often, so it's good to see it coming up. The idea of society turning against the Titans and their kin is quite cool as well, and as for setting it when the Titans have grown up...well, thats' just genius. Oh, and the quality of writing is just jaw-dropping.

Keep up the great work!

[Rae]

This is good!!

I can't think of any other way to describe it!

[Kregor8]

My goodness...what gushing praise! I'm so thrilled :D ! *slaps self* Ok, I'm back to normal.
Seriously Matt A, thanks a whole bunch. I'm glad you like my "film noir" theme. I've been thinking of writing a story in this mode ever since I watched "Sweet Smell of Success," which is the best NYC film ever (or that I've seen). You have to watch it. Plus, The Malteese Falcon, The Thin Man series, a bunch of old movies on AMC Saturday mornings (man, that was a few years ago) that I have no idea what they were - yeah, this is all good stuff. Daschell (sp?) Hammet is definetly the author you have to read though, to get that style. But I'm more of a sci-fi guy, so don't expect the same feel through the whole thing. I couldn't write film noir for all the Titans at once (and have it be believable or tallented).

Plus, I'm glad everyone has loved this so far. Soon, I'll get to the hard part (for me, at least) - writting for Beast Boy. I've never been good at writing "comic relief" stuff (there's no way I - or anyone, practically - could ever equal the acrobatic pizza) and that's the way BB's always been portrayed in the show. Except in the end of season (or series) two, the whole Terra thing. This is going to be hard. *grumbles to self*

Oh well, the future is calling!

[cheezisgoooood]

Most excellent, but if Tara is Terra....yeah...you spelled it wrong. Lol.

[Sproxie]

THIS IS GREAT!!!!!!!!!!
enough said.
not
THIS IS AWESOME!!!!!!!!
:D

[rrarbecy]

Most Excellent. Quite Brilliant. I can't wait to see what you have in store for us next.

Most excellent, but if Tara is Terra....yeah...you spelled it wrong. Lol.

Tara is Terra's first name in this story.

[Raven37]

I reallt, really, really, like this story. Wait, no, I Love this story!!!!!!! It's reallly good! I can't wait 'til the next chapter!!!!!:D

[Kregor8]

I never get sick of people reading and reviewing my story - no matter what the reason. Like I've said, or no...I'll say it differently. Iron sharpens iron. And iron will sharpen wood to a point too. I, however, am the blade of a tai chi sword. Yeah right.

It's getting on in the week and no new chapter yet. Sorry for that. I'm dealing with some issues (people and computer related both - I just fixed my machine) and things are crawling. I am working on the story though. I took a break to try to write something for the Halloween contest, but it was abismal so I wasted my time. Anyway - stay on the line.

"Sharpness comes without effort"

Somebody besides me has read Dune!

[Kregor8]

Ok, since you all want it, I'll give you a small bit. There is still one part to chapter three, that needs to be in chapter three, but you can eat this to stem the hunger. It's mostly something to more fully explain Trent's powers.

The cell was small, clean, and bare. Not a piece of furniture existed behind the bars aside from a small bed built into the wall and a toilet in the corner. The bed was typically where inmates sat, if they weren’t standing at the bars. Obviously, Trent was not a typical prisoner. He sat cross legged on the floor, his arms limp and his eyes closed. His breathing was steady and deep, a form of meditation his wife had taught him. It’s purpose was to extend the sense of hearing, but Trent wasn’t getting the results he wanted. The prison was soundproofed, and even his enhanced hearing couldn’t make out the conversations on the floor bellow.

It would be too risky to stick his head through the floor – he hadn’t hidden his power from the police for his entire life just to give it up now. Sensory enhancement wasn’t working – he needed to hear what was going on in the interrogation room bellow him. It drove him mad not to be getting every bit of information he could. It more than likely had nothing to do with him. He just couldn’t stand to miss out. He had to hear. Then it struck him. With his hands still hanging limply at his sides, Trent stuck one finger a half inch into the floor. This wouldn’t be noticed by the security camera. Gritting his teeth, he solidified his finger while it was still in the ground. After some struggle at the molecular level, his finger took precedence over the concrete of the floor, creating a small dent where his finger had been. He now had a hole that he could hear through. Or that was what he wanted.

Trent realized that his hole was a mere half inch deep, out of over four inches of concrete and steel. He needed to be able to stick his finger further in without being conspicuous. He stood up and walked over to the bars. Out of six cells on this floor, his was the only occupied one. That did make sense, though, as Trent wasn’t actually housed in the prison, but rather in the witness holding cells. He wandered back over to his excavation and started doing push-ups, his left index finger sinking lower and lower into the floor. By the sixty-third, he had his finger as far as it could reach, but he finished off the set of one hundred just to make things look proper. After the grand show was completed, Trent tried to go back to his hearing trance, but the pain in his finger was too intense. Normally he wouldn’t have tried something like that without his gloves.

Trent’s mutant power had originally just been the ability to walk through stuff, but over the years he had brought it to a much higher level. By partially “re-solidifying” his hands in a wall, he could climb shear surfaces without any handhold. He had actually climbed straight up a glass window once, and left not a mark on it. The disadvantage to this tactic was the excruciating pain that resulted. Whenever he materialized in something, his atoms would take precedence over the other substance and burst it apart. Though he always remained intact, it put an incredible strain on hisbody – it could a simple squeezing, but with materials harder than pine wood, the sensation was more of a crushing. To help compensate the strain, he normally wore a pair of tight fitting metal mesh gloves that acted as reinforcement to his hands when he climbed. He wasn’t wearing them now, and was deeply regretting it. He had torn things apart before, trying to hone his skills. His table, his clothes, even his arm once – completely shattered. He’d had to go to the hospital for that one – no meditation or trance he knew could fix that. He’d just had a motorcycle accident – that’s all. As if the doctors believed that. But the training had been worth every twinge, every gasp of pain, and every grimace. Trent could, when he put his mind to it, transpose a small bit of his power onto another object, making it too capable of passing through solid objects. This was the latest skill he had acquired, but even now he could only do it under extreme concentration and it would only last for nine tenths of a second. Hardly a practical skill. Still, it might come in useful someday, Trent thought as faded into his hearing enhancement trance. Ah, now he could distinguish the words bellow. Pity they didn’t mean anything to him.

“…Bert told me.” An irritated voice – nasal and drawn.

“Bert pulled the trigger?” The cool and collected counterpart to the first voice.

*silence*

“So, you’re going to take the blame for Bert? He pulled the trigger, now he’s trying to pin it on you?” The cool voice again.

“Bert never told you I pulled the trigger.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Then why were you in the window when we found you?”

“Bert told me to be there!”

“Why did he tell you that?”

*protracted silence*

“Ok, Ernie, I’m going to cut you a deal. We’ve got lawyers upstairs who want to pin you for murder. They’ve got dead people placed on their hands and want a scapegoat. You’ll do quite well for them.” There was pause, then the same voice continued, in a lower tone.

“Now, we know you didn’t kill anybody. We’ve got the proof that you’re clean right here. I have papers proving your innocence right here in this box…ah, ah, ah! No grabbing, Ernie. You’ll have to be patient and hear me out. Now, these papers are all in the world that’s keeping you out of the chair, and I’m willing to use them to help you out.”

“The chair?” The voice that before had been obnoxious now began to quaver.

“That’s right Ernie. We still have capital punishment for murder at this level. Now, I like you, Ernie. I liked you as soon as I saw you. My first impression was, ‘It’s too bad such a nice guy as this got messed up in the murder of a city council member.’ And I still believe that, and I want to help you out. But I need something in return.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Who hired Bert?”

“I don’t know. He never told me that kind of stuff.”

“That’s not going to cut it.”

“Well, it’s all I can say…is that a lighter? What are you doing? You can’t burn that!”

“Burn what?”

“Stop…stop man. I can’t take it. You’ll send me to the chair! The CHAIR! My blood will be on your hands! Don’t burn that paper! You’ve already…al…there’s only three left!” Sobbing choked out anything more he might have said. After a few gasping breaths, he continued.

“We were body guards for the guy…the guy who died. It was our job to keep him safe. Protect him from crazies, paparazzi, the general riff-raff. Easy job. Good job. Nice pay, about a grand a week to split between us. Not quite that, but it was plenty. I had a place, I had a girl, I always had all the beer I wanted – all great…then Bert got the call. Said he was a government agent. Said there was an “official” contract on his head. Got to kill him. He’d give us twenty grand if we let him through security on a certain night. Damn, we saw the paper! Official government paper, twenty G’s in the case. Bert took it. We let him in, but we didn’t know…if we’d known we’d never…I didn’t know he had a wife and kids. Didn’t know.”

“And now they’re all dead. Yes, you’ve seen the pictures. No, not pretty. And you can be sure that he killed the husband last. After…you can be sure he was no government agent.”

“God damn that murdering rapist!”

“You can be sure he will. You can be sure that we’ll help it happen. What I want to know is, can we be sure of your cooperation?”

“You’re not sending me to the chair?”

“Not if you help us catch the fool.”

“Yes. Yes! It’ll be my penance. I can tell this to my priest, right?”

“Yes, tell it to the priest.”

“I’ll do whatever I can.”

“For now, just call me if you see the fellow again. Here’s my number. Oh, and Ernie…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t mention this to Bert.”

“No, sir.” The door opened.

“Officer, take this man back to his cell. Tomorrow he stands before the judge.”

“But…but…you said I’d be free!”

“You have little trust. I still have these two letters.”

“Come with me.” The door closed. Trent ended his trance and sighed. Interesting drama, but it had little bearing on his reality. He picked himself up and lay down on the bed. Nasty thing – concrete with about an inch of foam mattress. He closed his eyes, wishing for sleep. It rarely came to him, even at three in the morning, which it must be past by now. Trent just lay there, with his eyes closed, remembering Chrysanthemum.

These are not the Bert and Ernie you may know. This is not a rip at Sesamie Street (sp?). I just picked Bert as a criminal's name, and couldn't think of anything to match it. This actually is a plot element, though it seems random and disconnected now. I do that. Like I said, I'm reading Dickens's "Tale of Two Cities" and it's kind of gotten to me.

Expect more on Monday. Glad you all are enjoying it.

[Sproxie]

ooo great post, cant wait till monday.

[raven54]

ooo, nice. very well-written and masterfully (is that even a word?) executed. Excellent detail- you write a lot like Reid. and that's a very good thing. can hardly wait til Monday! finally, something good happens on that horrible god-forsaken bleak depressing and generally STUPID day.

[oneeyemonkeypie]

Yup, I still love this. I love the fact that you can take a simple event, such as explaining the powers of a main character, that takes normal people only a paragraph to do and turn it into an interesting and enjoyable read.
Well done, as are all the chapters. Time for the other titans! I am wondering what kinds of lives they are leading.

[Crowgirl]

You asked me to post here, so here it is...

This is really good, and it has great details. You should write a book or something. Please post more soon!!!!

[Kregor8]

AAAHHHHHHHHH! I AM SO ANGRY RIGHT NOW!!!!!

I just typed up a whole huge introduction to my chapter, and it all got deleted because of a STUPID COMPUTER ERROR! *shreds cables and wires right and left* Ok, I'll try again, for your sakes.


The reason I didn't post this all on Monday is because the chapter ended up being more than I expected. I've split this all off into chapter four, and what I expeceted to be the end of chapter three will now be chapter five. So enjoy that.

Explaination of the chapter: Most of it is a flashback, as indicated by the italicized section in the middle. There is a flashback in the flashback, because the whole section is Raven remembering a day twelve years ago (four years from now, to us). In that rememberance, she remembers something that happened before that, but after now at an unspecified time. If you're not confussed yet, you can't say I didn't try.

Hopefully you can all read chapter five by thursday, but with the end of politics and stuff, it might not be done.

On the ground floor – the one above where Trent was housed – the receptionist was having a problem. A woman with purple hair was trying determinedly to “speak to Stone.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but this is the Phillips’ Aviation Corp. headquarters. I have no idea what you mean by ‘Stone.’”

“Look, I just want to speak to Victor Stone. I know that he’s in this building, and I’m not leaving until I speak with him.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t help you.”

“Then let me speak with Trent Touren. I know he’s here – probably in a holding cell. Now if you’ll just step aside…”

“Cell? What are you talking about? Hey! You stay back, or I’ll call security on you.”

“Oh, please. Call security. It might be the first useful thing you’ll have done,” Raven muttered, walking past the receptionist’s counter to the elevator behind. She pushed the button, and the doors started to open. The woman behind the desk punched a red button marked “alert” and a small red light under the desk started flashing. Raven had entered the car and the doors were closing in their usual, lethargic manner, when a similar red light started flashing over the elevator control panel. As soon as this light had come on, the doors slammed shut with a thud that is normally only heard in elevators when they fall five stories. Raven hummed to herself as she flicked water droplets off her long, black coat. It wasn’t quite raining outside yet, but you could feel the water in the air. She expected she’d be waiting a while as security decided what to do with her. She saw the four cameras on the ceiling – one in each corner of the car. Little chance they’d miss any action she took.

*blink-blink-blink*

The red light was the only source of illumination in the car – the other lights had all cut off when the doors slammed. It didn’t bother Raven much – she could see well enough in the dark. Most of her time was spent there, it seemed. The dark was a welcome thing to her; it was not her enemy. It held no terrors, no secrets. She unbuttoned her coat and shook it off. Water splattered everywhere, reflecting and refracting the red light.

*blink-blink-blink*

She folded her coat over her arm. Underneath, she wore a purple sweater, several shades darker than her hair, which she wore in a long, loose braid. Her pants were black and not too tight. Not too loose either – aside from the color of her hair, she looked like a perfectly respectable, ordinary woman. She could be anyone on the street - a bookkeeper, a librarian, a teacher, a secret agent. Raven was none of these. She was a Titan. Often, she felt as though she was the Titan – the only one who stuck around when the world turned nasty, the only one who had not abandoned the cause – to keep Jump City safe from those who would harm it. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered. There was no glory in what she did. People didn’t worship her. Most people didn’t even like her, and the rest didn’t know she existed. Yet, it was what she was called to do. She had done it with friends; she now did it without. More often than not, her work was as simple as when she had saved the two children in the park from the krrrshbliak. They would never know who saved them or why. She would never receive anything back, yet she did it anyway. It was something she had learned from Starfire, Robin, Cyborg, and Beast Boy. Yes, and even Terra. When you had the chance, you helped people. When they let you down, you got back up again and went on. When they betrayed you…well, some people were more forgiving than others.

As Raven waited for the elevator to move, she let her mind drift back to the days when they had first regained Terra. The scene was still vivid in her mind, she could taste the acrid smoke that filled the streets, hear the screams of people running from the whirling clouds of dust and rock, and see Beast Boy’s jaw hanging down to his belt buckle.



It was Beast Boy’s 19th birthday. Robin had contrived a fact finding mission for him and Beast Boy to go on in the city, just to get him out of the tower. Starfire had made a traditional Tamaranian celebration pudding, and Cyborg had cleaned and redecorated BB’s room, Cyborg style. Raven had made the cake, interestingly enough. There was not a speck of tofu in it, but she was sure the Beast Boy would still be appreciative.

“All is in readiness, friends,” Starfire’s cheery voice rang out. “When will Beast Boy and Robin return?”

“I have no idea,” Raven had answered, her voice as empty of feeling as Starfire’s was full of it. Cyborg walked into the living room, a huge grin plastered across his face. Though he had turned twenty-one last year, the Teen Titans had voted unanimously to let him remain part of the team. They had appointed many honorary Titans in the past four years, but ever since Terra’s volcano, they had not allowed any new permanent members.

“You look pleased with yourself,” came the cool voice of Raven.

“Aw, man! BB’s gonna flip when he sees what I did to his room!” Cyborg tried his best to suppress a burst of laughter. Raven simply raised her eyebrows.

“As long as you haven’t damaged his Terra memorial…”

“Of course not! That’s the one thing of BB’s I would never touch,” Cyborg said, sitting down on the couch. Though his spirits seemed momentarily dampened, he soon reverted to grinning and chuckling. Starfire flew over to her friends in a state of great excitement.

“Our friends are returning! All is in readiness! Eeeeeeeeh!” she squealed, twirling around the room.

“Please, Star, just sit down and be patient. Cyborg, wipe that grin off your face.” Cyborg swiped his hand across his mouth, leaving a deep frown. He glared at Raven, but it was only a few seconds before both he and Starfire were on the ground, their bodies convulsed with badly suppressed laughter.

“Hey guys! What’s all the ruckus?”

“Eep!” Starfire jumped up and quickly sat down, making a point not to look at Beast Boy. Cyborg, who had regained his feet, looked at Beast Boy, at Starfire, then at Beast Boy again, and fell right back down, shaking with his seemingly boundless mirth. Beast Boy turned to Raven, the question unspoken, but she knew what he would ask and simply shrugged. Beast Boy grabbed Cyborg by the shoulder and shook him. Since he was already shaking, this had very little effect.

“Dude, what is your problem?” Getting no answer, he tried Starfire.

“What’s wrong with Cyborg, Star? I wasn’t even here – he shouldn’t be laughing this hard.” Starfire smiled innocently.

“Oh, we were just sharing the jokes, and he…I mean…Cyborg was greatly amused.”

“Right.” Beast Boy gave up. It was then that Robin came in, carrying the cake in a covered cake box. He leapt over the couch and landed directly on Starfire’s left. In one motion, he wrapped his arm around her and flung the cake into the air. Beast Boy’s eyes popped, Raven gasped, and Cyborg stopped laughing. It looked like Robin had over calculated his martial arts finesse. Starfire and Robin, however, were not worried at all. Starfire raised her left arm and fired a starbolt. The lid flew off the cake box, and, candles ignited, the whole thing landed on the coffee table – miraculously in one piece.

“Happy Birthday, Beast Boy!” the two shouted in unison. Beast Boy finished staring at the cake and moved on to staring at Robin and Starfire. Raven and Cyborg also had their gave fixed on the same couple.

“What?” Robin asked, with the typical voice of somebody who knows that he’s in trouble. “We’re just celebrating Beast Boy’s birthday.” At this, Beast Boy burst into his high-pitched cackle of a laugh.

“Alright Robin and Star! That was pretty awesome!” Beast Boy’s merriment was almost as intense as Cyborg’s had been. It was now his turn to be silent and stare. Finally, he shouted at Robin.

“You two had this planned all along! I can’t believe it! I just can’t believe it!”

“Have we done something wrong, friend Cyborg? We were only trying to lend excitement to this joyous occasion.” Cyborg glared at Star, but his expression soon softened.

“Nah, you did fine. Good work. Now, let’s taste this cake the Raven made.” Beast Boy’s ears pricked up, and he grinned.

“Raven made the cake? All right! Let me at it!” He dove for the cake, only to bounce off the black shield that suddenly surrounded it.

“Please. I know you’re excited, but would you use a knife?” Raven asked, bringing a cake knife, also encased in black, towards BB.

“Oh, no, Rae. I’m not using that. Now it’s my turn to show off. Hands off it.” The shield around the cake dissipated, and the knife came to rest next to the plate.

“Ladies and gentlemen, behold, the power of Beast Boy!” After shouting this, he leaped into the air, twisting in a front flip and changing into swordfish. As he flew over the cake, he deftly sliced it into six large parts, changing into a blue jay (green jay, actually) and flying off before he hit the cake. He landed in normal form, a plate in one hand, and the knife in the other. He stuck the knife into one piece, flipping it into the air and catching it on his plate. Up to this point, everyone was impressed, even Raven. Beast Boy’s next move was to dive his face into his cake. This brought laughter from most of the Titans, and a frown from Raven. Beast Boy looked up almost immediately. Licking his lips, he turned to Raven.

“Wow. What is this Rae? It’s absolutely awesome.”

“Ginger cake. Cream cheese frosting. Supposedly, the recipe came from my grandmother, but I have no idea really. It’s always been a favorite of mine,” she said, serving herself a piece without leaving her seat. Raven’s plate floated over to her as the other Titans served up their pieces. After praises for Raven’s skills as a cook and salutations on Beast Boy, Starfire noticed something.

“Beast Boy, you cut the cake into six pieces. Who is the sixth piece for?” Beast Boy choked on his cake. His eyes went wide as he looked at the last slice of cake on the table. Suddenly, he recomposed himself.

“Why, it’s for me, of course. It’s my birthday, so I get the most cake.” This answer satisfied the Titans, but Raven noticed a small twitch in Beast Boy’s eye. He had cut it for Terra. He would take it down to her…put it in front of the stone that was all that remained of her, and leave it there as long as he dared. He had done this before, Raven knew.

Aside from Beast Boy, she spent more time at Terra’s gravesite than any of the other Titans, though they never knew it. She controlled her emotions quite well, she though. Nobody ever really suspected how much the Terra incident had shaken her. Her trust in her friends. Her trust in herself. Her reasons for visiting Terra were quite different from Beast Boy’s.

She had once found a piece of apple pie there, in front of the stone. A piece of pie. It had still been warm. That was the one time Raven lost it at Terra’s grave. She fell on her knees sobbing. She screamed at the emptiness, into the darkness – a silence so thick that not even a single echo found its way back to her. Stones had been torn from their moorings in her frustration; obsidian energy crackled around her, her eyes squeezed shut to hold back the tears. She heard a smash, and felt the plate go flying into the darkness. She was suddenly in control. Raven sat there, silent and calm. Nothing stirred, her energy spent. She heard footsteps approaching, but didn’t get up. Beast Boy had come for a visit, again, no doubt. Yes, it was he. Even in panther form, he still gave off an aura Raven would know anywhere. Beast Boy transformed back to his normal form, standing beside the still kneeling Raven. He looked at the spot the pie had been, at the rocks ravaged by Raven’s rage. He looked at Raven’s face, and saw the tears still there. He put his hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Raven whispered.

“Sorry for what, Raven?” She stood up. The hug she gave Beast Boy surprised her as much as it did him.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, and left the cave.

Now, at Beast Boy’s party, Raven remembered the incident. She looked at Beast Boy, but he didn’t meet her gaze. Suddenly, the familiar claxon blared out.

“Titans! Trouble!” The cry was more familiar than the alarm itself.

“You’ve got to think of a new line, Robin. After six years of hearing you say that almost every day, it doesn’t have much mystery to it anymore.”

“Really?” asked Robin, who seemed genuinely surprised. “I kind of liked the alliteration of it,” he commented, as he leapt back over the couch, pulling Starfire along with him.



By the time the Titans arrived, downtown Jump City was barely distinguishable from a war scene. Cars were scattered everywhere; people were screaming; walls were staved in by telephone poles, and the main square had a gaping hole in the middle of it, out of which dense black smoke was pouring. People were choking on the acrid stuff, and suddenly out of the middle of the hole rose a giant tornado. Rock and dust swirled at speeds close to 200 miles per hour. Bicycles, mailboxes, and just about anything weighing less than a thousand pounds were quickly pulled right in. Typically, Robin was the first to speak.

“Starfire and Raven, see what you can do about stopping those trees from flying off and hitting something. Cyborg, you and I will get the people back out of range of the tornado and smoke. Beast Boy, you see if you can get to the center of that thing and see what’s causing it. Titans! GO!” At the familiar shout, the Titans moved to their respective jobs.

Raven had quickly given up on trying to predict when a tree would be let fly by the whirlwind. Several had already been set on their merry paths of destruction – she had caught one with her powers, Starfire had blasted another to sawdust. A third went crashing through the window of an office building, hitting some people and even knocking one out the shattered panes.

“Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!” The black waves shot out, snatching the falling woman out of the air, setting her down at the doorway of the building. She quickly came into contact with Robin, who was hurtled through the air by a swinging cable.

“Get inside! Go to the basement level, if you possibly can!” he shouted, but the woman couldn’t hear him over the roar of the wind.

“Get inside!” he screamed. “It’s not safe out here!” This last phrase he put his entire volume into, but the reason the woman heard him so well was not that Robin had out yelled the storm. No, just as he had filled his lungs for the final attempt to communicate her danger, the wind had ceased. Just stopped, not even a breeze blowing. Things fell from the sky – cars, telephone poles, even some people. These, caught by Starfire and Raven, expressed their gratitude by staring with wide eyes at what had a moment ago been the eye of the storm. In the center of the hole kneeled Beast Boy, holding what appeared to be a gray piece of stone. Closer examination revealed it to be a naked, human girl, covered in mud and dust – her tears creating trenches where they ran down her face. She did not speak, neither did he. Raven approached them slowly, the rest of the Titans held back.

“Hhhhhh…hhhhhhh…” the girl rasped out, trying to make coherent speech. Raven took off her cloak and draped it over the girl’s bare, heaving shoulders.

“Hhhhhelp me,” she managed to gasp out. Beast Boy hugged her even tighter.

“I saved you a piece of cake,” was all he could find to say to her.



From that moment on, Beast Boy had focused his life solely on saving Terra – on rebuilding the girl he had loved. Her memory was completely shattered. She didn’t remember her name; she didn’t remember her powers; she barely even remembered the English language. Yet Beast Boy had persevered through it all, teaching her everything she needed to know. How to control her powers; how to use them for good, once she could control them; how, Raven even suspected, to love Beast Boy. No, he had never stopped loving her. And though Terra never remembered what they might have had, they built something new over the next four years. Then they had gotten married - Mr. and Mrs. Garfield Logan, it had made her sick.

September 8, 2012, had been their wedding day. Terra didn’t deserve Beast Boy. She would just eventually turn on him and his friends again. Terra had stolen Beast Boy away. Yes, she actually had felt that, thought Raven. She actually had cared for Beast Boy. She hadn’t ever “loved” him like Star and Robin loved each other, nor in the same way BB and Terra loved each other. But she had cared for him more than any other of the Titans, she now thought. Well, she was over it now. They were happy together –as happy as any couple Raven had ever seen. So she was happy for them, she thought.

The elevator started to move – down, Raven was certain. Good, that was what she had hoped for. The lights in the carriage came back on, and Raven looked at the clock on the back wall. She had been waiting almost five minutes. A mere five minutes, and she had recalled almost a full day’s actions. Amazing. Now, she banished all thoughts of Terra, Beast Boy, or that day twelve years ago from her mind. She was focused; she was determined. She had a mission; she was solo. She was Raven.


There you all go. My intro still wasn't as good as the last one that got deleted. That one was witty, sharp, and told everything I wanted to. Oh, well. That's life (it's what the people say).
Surely, life is a tale told by an idiot,
Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Ah, me. Well, I must leave you all. School work, you know.

[Rae]

This is amazing!!! If this one is supposed to be worse than the origional then the origional must be holy!

I liked the way Raven was the same yet different and you brought up her feelings for Beast Boy well

Please post as soon as possible!

[rrarbecy]

:eek: Woah :eek:
That was great.
"I saved you a piece of cake." :crying: So touching...

[Matt A]

This is amazing!!! If this one is supposed to be worse than the origional then the origional must be holy!I agree entirely! This story is now officially jaw-dropping. Even though the characters have got older and changed under what must be fairly desperate circumstances, you've still managed to maintain their core personality traits. The new spin on the Raven/Beast Boy relationship is pretty cool as well.

One thing, though: exactly where is this story going, plot-wise?

Keep posting, bud!

[Sproxie]

This story is now officially jaw-dropping.This story has GOT to one of THE best... if not THE best.... WOW

[oneeyemonkeypie]

I agree, this is really well done. It's interesting to see the people the titans have become. I never expected it to turn out this dark, but thats a good thing. We have too many happy, warm and fuzzy fics as it is.

If this is supposed to be somewhat of a mystery, it has succeded wildly; I have absolutely zero idea what will happen next.

Anyways...I LOVE IT! KEEP GOING!

[Lord Welshi]

Apologies for taking so long to post on this story.

I have no shame in admitting that you are easily my equal when it comes to writing Titans fan fictions, perhaps even better. You are a master of the art, and have obviously poured alot of effort into this beautiful story. I don't mean beautiful as in namby-pamby fluffy clouds etc. Oh no, this is a story in it's purest form: entertaining, gripping, and oh-so-good, not afraid to get down to the nitty-gritty, but still retaining some mirth and light moments. Real people appear on the screen with your writing. You truly have the gift, the talent.

I tip my hat to you, sir, for you are truly one of the greats.

Lord Welshi

[Kregor8]

Lord Welshi, thank you.

Real people appear on the screen with your writing. You truly have the gift, the talent.That's the greatest compliment anyone has ever paid to my writing. If I grinned any wider, I'd split my head in two. Hopefully, my next chapter will be done tomorrow. Like I've said before, I've been as busy as heck. Thankfully, I finished my midterm on time and got Reid's stuff finished off, so we should be seeing that soon too.

Thanks again to all my readers, who hang on here despite my tardiness.

7<regor
Ps. Sprox - please come back...

[raven54]

Apologies for taking so long to post on this story.

I have no shame in admitting that you are easily my equal when it comes to writing Titans fan fictions, perhaps even better. You are a master of the art, and have obviously poured alot of effort into this beautiful story. I don't mean beautiful as in namby-pamby fluffy clouds etc. Oh no, this is a story in it's purest form: entertaining, gripping, and oh-so-good, not afraid to get down to the nitty-gritty, but still retaining some mirth and light moments. Real people appear on the screen with your writing. You truly have the gift, the talent.

I tip my hat to you, sir, for you are truly one of the greats.

Lord Welshi
i must agree. you are one of the greatest writers i have ever seen on this forum

[Sproxie]

i must agree. you are one of the greatest writers i have ever seen on this forum
Definitely, this story is one of my most favorite.

[rrarbecy]

I agree.

[Kregor8]

Wow. I never expected that people would like this story so much. And to think I almost didn't write it...
I'm going away for most of next week, so I won't be checking or posting or whathaveyou, so I'll give you what I've go before I go. This is half of chapter five. I'm not exactly pleased with the way it's turned out, but since I've already re-written it once, I'm just going to put it up and have done with it. The sooner I finish this chapter, the sooner I can get to chapter six - which I know how it ought to be. It'll be dark, dank, and, if I play my cards right, will advance the plot another step along the track. So, read this now and hope for later.

The elevator ground to a halt, hissing slightly as though it were an airlock opening. On the other side of the door were four shotgun muzzles, and at the other end of every shotgun was a determined looking SWAT soldier. Nobody spoke. Nobody signaled. Nobody moved. This went on for thirty seconds, the click of Raven’s watch more like a war drum than a timepiece. Thirty seconds of inaction, and suddenly everyone moved at once. Raven started forward down the brightly lit corridor, two of the guards pulled up their guns and the other two pointed them at Raven’s chest. She merely pushed one of the muzzles aside with her hand and continued in her firm step down the hallway.

“Halt!” Raven turned, eyebrow raised. The man who had spoken was the one whose gun she had pushed aside. He was obviously the leader of the bunch. “You cannot walk unescorted through the complex. Captain’s orders.”

“Well then, escort me. I want to see Stone.” Raven’s voice, though as flat as ever and dead as a post, still managed to carry extra venom in it. She could see the soldiers wince – except the leader one; he was strong. It was hard to resist the emotions she put in her voice – if she wanted someone to feel malice, they would feel it. If Raven wanted someone to be terrified, they would run shrieking from the room. And all the while, her tone never changed.

“It is our orders to take you straight there.”

“Good. Shall we go?” Raven immediately started walking again. The two SWAT soldiers who had not moved yet had to make an undignified dash to reach the front of the formation. The leader, the one who had spoken, and the last soldier fell in behind Raven. The fourth soldier looked over at his leader, as if to say “Here we go again.” Nobody ever seemed to behave correctly when they had escort duty.

The corridors were empty, unmark except by the regular doorways on either side. Every so many feet the hallway would make a ninety degree turn, obscuring the view of what went before or what would come after. The soldiers marched on in silence. Raven wasn’t worried about getting lost in here. She could always make her own way out if she needed to. Suddenly, the two guards in front halted.

“This is the office,” the leader said, stepping forward and gesturing with his gun. Raven nodded and pushed open the door.

The room inside was as complete a change from the corridors outside it as the oven is from the freezer. Where outside there were gray walls and doors every five feet, inside the walls were a dark green. Wood trim abounded and gilded frame paintings were the predominant wall feature. In contrast to the harsh white-blue light of the corridors, the atmosphere in here was decidedly warm and, if not inviting, at least cozy. The most prominent feature of the room – the one Raven’s eyes were drawn to even as the door snicked shut behind her – was the giant wooden desk. This desk could easily be used as a dinner table for the descendants of Anak, it was so vast. And seated behind the desk was a huge man who looked petite in comparison. This was Victor Stone – head of Old Jump City’s SWAT units. He wore a dark red oxford shirt that seemed misplaced on his prodigious shoulders. The shirt, however, wasn’t the only thing that seemed out of place in this office. The man himself appeared ill-fitted to an office job. Victor was a man of action – one who was made for the frontline; somebody who would always do the task, and do it to perfection. He rose from his chair.

“Raven. Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“Hello, Cyborg. Still using the holo-rings, I see.” Stone’s clean shaven face and crisp business outfit flickered for a second, before being replaced with a completely different visage. The man was now more machine than human. Half his face was still the dark skin of Victor Stone, but the rest of his body was now covered in either silver metal or blue panels.

“Actually, I internalized the holo-generator. It’s more convenient that way. They expect me to dress up for office work, so this is the best way to get it done.”

“Uh-huh,” Raven grunted. “Let’s get down to business. You’re holding one of my agents, and I want him released.” Cyborg’s human eye widened.

“You’ve got agents? I don’t remember picking up anyone who seemed like he worked for you. We’ve got some real characters in the holding cells, but I’m pretty sure you aren’t interested in them…”

“Last night, or rather, early this morning, you arrested a “Trent Touren.” Lower East-side, hostage situation, I believe. He’s working for me.” If Cyborg’s eye could have gotten any wider, it would have. He walked back over to his desk and punched a few commands into the computer. The painting behind him changed from a landscape by Rembrandt to a suspect information file. Trent’s picture was show, as well as general information: his height – 6’2”, his weight – 204.3 lbs., his age – 23 years.

“This the guy?”

“That’s that one.”

“You know what he’s being held for?”

“Not really.”

“He shot a guy.”

“Shot?”

“Killed. Seems he was some sort of a military man – Marines, I think. This guy he killed used to be one of his commanding officers. Could be just some petty revenge deal,” Cyborg mused, scanning through what little records they had on Trent. “The whole thing is kind of up in the air right now. Still in ballistics. But they should get a verdict for us soon.”

“So, as of right now, you’re just holding him as a suspect.” This was less a question than it was a statement. Stone merely nodded, and went back to typing at his computer. Raven picked up some papers from Victor’s desk. “File on Ernie Chambers.” Raven tossed it back on the desk in disinterest. It landed with a thump, shooting some papers into the air. Catching them in a net of black energy, she drew them back to the desk. As she rearranged the papers, she spotted what she had been looking for - the cell occupant list. Right before Raven could lift the paper off the desk, Cyborg’s large hand slapped down on it.

“You weren’t thinking of trying to visit Mr. Touren without an escort, were you?” he said, never averting his gaze from the smaller computer monitor that was on his desk. The screen on the wall had reverted to a painting – this time it was a whatever-it-is by Dali.

“No, I guess I wasn’t. Would you care to arrange an interview for me?”

“I suppose we can do that. Can I trust you not to phase him out of here?”

“And scrap my cover? Most people here think I’m just Jenny McFrae, a respectable business woman. That’s not something I can afford to lose.”

“So I have your word?”

“You have it.” Stone pushed a button under the desk, and almost immediately, the door was opened by the soldier who had spoken to Raven earlier. He saluted smartly.

“Wesley, I’d like you to take Miss McFrae to see Touren, cell 7K. She can have five minutes.”

“Yes sir.”

“You run quite a tight ship here, don’t you, Mr. Stone?” Raven commented as she left the room.

“We do what we can, Miss McFrae. We do what we can.”


<edit> - Thanks Drae, for pointing this out before I left for vacation. Hope you can all read it better now.

That's 1,200 words right there. Not the best, not the best, but definetelly better than it was before I re-wrote it! :D And don't you be telling me it is the best either, because I know that chapter four was the best. That's not going to be topped until I get to chapter x, where I have the greatest things planned...oh boy! Ok, people need to use the phone. See you all next week!

[Lord Welshi]

Actually i thought that was very good, still contains much of your talent.

BTW anyone who wants to read this, you'll have to highlight the text, it's been posted in gray for some reason and can't be read against the background

[raven54]

i admit, it's not as good as ch. 4 but still is a nicely written piece of work. i agree witl m'Lord, it's still got your talent...mark... signature in it. i really don't have any suggestions... so good job, and i'll eagerly await your return!!

[Sproxie]

I don't even know which are your best chapters, they are all great! i definitely can't wait for you to post your next chapter. ;)

[Matt A]

i admit, it's not as good as ch. 4 but still is a nicely written piece of work. i agree witl m'Lord, it's still got your talent...mark... signature in it. i really don't have any suggestions... so good job, and i'll eagerly await your return!!That, I think, is about the best way of putting it. It didn't have as much emotional punch as the last chapter (as if anything else would...), but it had some cool dialogue between Raven and Cyborg, and it helped to further highlight their need for secrecy and how much the world is now against them. Plus, your introduction of Cyborg was genius.

One question, though: when are the other Titans (Robin, Starfire, Beast Boy and Terra) going to be introduced?

[Crowgirl]

Actually i thought that was very good, still contains much of your talent.

BTW anyone who wants to read this, you'll have to highlight the text, it's been posted in gray for some reason and can't be read against the background
Yes, much much much MUCH talent. i forget who said it, but you are truly one of the greats here in this forum. Hall of Fame is seriously calling your name. I enjoyed seeing Cy, he is one of my favorite characters in the show.

About the text. It was difficult for me to read, even though I did highlight it. Was that an accident?

[Lord Welshi]

Yes, much much much MUCH talent. i forget who said it, but you are truly one of the greats here in this forum. Hall of Fame is seriously calling your name.
It was i that called kregor8 one of the greats on this forum, and i meant every word of it. I hope you continue with this story soon, i am thoroughly enujoying it and have plenty more praise to heap upon you.

[oneeyemonkeypie]

I believe it was Welshi's Mate who encountered a similar situation. He wrote a short, narrow chapter pertaining to only one event, but it was still very enjoyable to read and well written. This is exactly like that.

Nothing significant happened, there were no major conflicts or events, and the chapter only really detailed about 10 minutes of content, but it was still damn good.

Nicely done! Your fic is turning out so excellently. Now I have something to shoot for with my next chapter.

[Raven Rocks]

most definately an awesome chapter. but, not to be rude, it's been 4 days since you last posted...... when is the next part coming?

[Kregor8]

It really has been to long. Here's the awaited ending to chapter five. Tomorrow (actually, today) is Thanksgiving, so I'm giving you one more thing to be thankful for. Here we go.

Sleep had evaded Trent Touren. It wasn’t just the lack of cushion in the thin foam mattress. It wasn’t just the chill that permeated everything. It wasn’t just the close confines of the cell. In fact, it really wasn’t any of these things at all. Trent had lain on the softest mattresses, had been in the warmest rooms, had been under the open sky itself, and sleep refused to comfort his body or sooth his mind. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see his wife standing in front of him again. Sometimes she would be wearing her wedding dress. Sometimes she would be wearing that outfit she wore their last day. Sometimes she’d be wearing nothing but the rags of a beggar. She never spoke to him – just stood there, silently accusing.

“You could have saved me, if you had just had the gall. If you hadn’t been so weak when you confronted your father, we’d still be together today.” This was the unspoken message Trent heard. If he managed to actually drift off for a few moments, the situation became worse. His wife would be joined by the faces of all those who had conspired to take her away: His father; the President; members of the United Nations who had sat with his father; the soldier who had taken Chrysanthemum in the end. Their faces were gaunt, white, skeletal. Wracked with hatred, these faces were. No shame, no pity, no mercy. Nothing but proud defiance and sinister grins of triumph. These faces would swirl around Chrysten before slowly converging on her and then, if Trent didn’t wake up, it would start all over. This had been the basic extent of his sleep over the past five years. Sometimes it was worse than others – this was one of those times. As he lay there, a new face joined the mass. The face of Raven. This head was different from the others – it situated itself next to Chrysanthemum’s head and sent its own message to Trent. You failed me. Another thing he didn’t need. He’d never failed before in his entire career. No matter how tough the missions had been, when he was a Marine, or how difficult his contracts had seemed, when he was a vigilante, he had never failed one of them. And now…

“Visitor for you.” Trent heard the click of the lock and the squeak of the door. “You have five minutes.” Trent still lay on his back, his eyes closed. His mind was focused on the visage of Raven that was haunting his mind. It even started to speak to him.

“Trent…Trent…Trent.” He was shaken gently. “Trent?” His eyes snapped open and his hands shot up, stopping mere centimeters from the person’s throat. It was that same face.

“Are you ok?” Trent lowered his hands.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine. I wasn’t expecting you to come for me, Ra…”

“Jenny.”

“Right. You come to bail me out?” Trent sat up on the bed and ran his fingers through his wiry black hair. Jenny McFrae shook her head.

“Can’t. When I told you that you could figure out what to do with the messenger after you had the package, I never expected you to shoot him.”

“I didn’t.” Trent stated flatly.

“No?” Jenny’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“No. First, I wasn’t done with the messenger. Two, he was my commanding officer for three months when I served in the Marine Corps. Third, I don’t have the package. If you need a fourth point, the general was shot with a hollow point rifle bullet – I only carried a handgun. The bullet came in the window and the broken glass is on the inside. I’m sure the guys who arrested me took notice of this. Besides, I was doing a clean job. There’s no way I’d kill anybody right there,” he said with a satisfied smile. Folding his arms on his chest, he smilingly nodded at Raven’s follow up.

“If you had been trying to conceal from the police a piece of information that the person had, you would shoot him right before being arrested.”

“Mm-hmm.” Trent was paying no attention to Jenny at all. Suddenly, he was deadly serious again. “As soon as I get out of here, I’ll return the advance you gave me.”

“What for? I already paid you for your time.”

“If failed the mission. You said to bring you the package, and I don’t have it. I left it in the room with Armstrong. I assume the cops picked it up. I couldn’t take money for a botched job. It’s bad for business.”

Raven was about to respond when Wesley, the soldier who had escorted her up, returned to the cell door.

“Excuse me miss.”

“It can’t have been five minutes already,” she said, surprise in her voice.

“No, it hasn’t. But Captain Stone has requested your presence back at his office as soon as possible.” Raven turned to Trent.

“I need to go. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see what I can do to get you out of here.” She left the cell. Wesley turned to the left.

“If you’ll follow me, miss.”



···

Victor Stone sat behind his mammoth desk, pushing papers right and left. Raven walked right up to the desk and watched him silently. Victor was the first to break the silence.

“I just heard back from ballistics.”

“He didn’t do it.”

“No. Armstrong was shot through the chest with a .50 caliber, hollow point rifle cartridge. Touren carried only this,” he said, striking a few keys. The large screen above his head showed a photograph of Trent’s silver Desert Eagle. “We didn’t have the bullet, so it took a bit longer than it might have. You can see, though, the exit wound here…” The picture switched to the body of Maj. Gen. Armstrong. “The way the flesh is torn like this…only a hollow point can do that. Touren’s gun, at that range, would have left a huge hole, but it wouldn’t have fanned out like this.”

“So, you’re letting him go.” This was another of Raven’s commands, deceptively phrased as a question. Still, question it was not. Raven fully expected Cyborg to let Trent go, now that the murder charge had been dismissed. Cyborg’s voice broke in.

“Not exactly. He’s still a very possible accessory to murder – in fact, that was what we originally hauled him in here for. Even if he isn’t, he’s still one of the most important witnesses we have. This is a homicide case, here.” Raven frowned. This wasn’t going to be easy. She decided to try a different line.

“Did you happen to pick up a package at the scene? It would have been an attaché case or maybe just a bundle of papers, and it would have been in the room with Trent and the general.”

“No…no, we didn’t pick up anything other than the people. No cases; no papers; nothing, really. Something of yours?”

“Sort of. It was the package that Armstrong was supposed to be delivering to the City Council. I’m interested in intercepting it. Actually, my agent already intercepted it. Now I need it in my possession.”

“Any clue what was in it?”

“Only vaguely. Some sort of weapons plans or stratagems of war. It came from some location on the East Coast, but where it was from before that, I haven’t the faintest idea. I just know it’s powerful, deadly, and about to fall into the wrong hands.” Stone shut down the files on Touren, and gave his full attention to Raven.

“What’s this all about, Raven? What are you trying to do?” Raven glanced around the room before continuing.

“You aren’t going to believe this.”

“Try me,” Cyborg said – fairly certain he could believe anything Raven told him.

“This isn’t going to sound like me…” she broke off, waited a moment, then added a single word.

“Slade.” Cyborg had been wrong. This was one thing he simply could not believe. They had all seen Slade die, years ago. Even Robin had finally given up his obsession and agreed that Slade was gone for good. Yet, here Raven could stand before him and, with a straight face, tell him she believed Slade was plotting something new. Finally, he spoke, his voice tainted with incredulity.

“Is Robin back in town?” Raven’s laugh was mirthless.

“No. It’s better that he isn’t, really. You know how he gets over Slade.”

“Yeah. So do…” his voice trailed off. “You certain about this?”

“Deadly.”

“Know what he’s planning?” Again, Raven laughed.

“Only what I’ve told you. And what we learned in the past. Nothing good. Now that he believes the Titans are gone, maybe he’ll try for world domination again.”

“Think he has a new apprentice?”

“I hope not, for whoever’s sake. But I really can’t say.” There was a moment of silence, then Stone spoke again.

“Do you need any help? I’m kind of busy here, but I do have about three weeks paid vacation that I’ve never used if…”

“No. I’m going this one alone. Thanks for the thought, though.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Raven considered a minute, then answered resolutely.

“I need you to let Trent Touren go.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”



···

Outside, Trent and Raven stood under the awning a while, watching the rain fall. The weather worked a somber mood on everyone. The few pedestrians hurried along, their heads down, intent on their destination. Raven quietly hummed a strange melody. Trent was thinking about the new face that had come to his dream. You’ve failed, Trent Touren. The rain was heavy now, roaring on the awning, splashing up off the road, collecting in grimy puddles along the curb. You’re a failure! The dried up mud of yesterday was re-moistened by today’s rain, creating today’s mud. All a cycle, failure, rain, mud, fail. No! He wasn’t finished yet. Abruptly, he started off to the right.

“Where are you going?” Raven asked quietly.

“To finish the job.” Trent walked out into the deluge. It was many blocks to the building where the package lay, but not even this rain would deter him now. He wasn’t a failure, yet. No, not quite yet.


There it is. Chapter six is comming up, and it should be better than this one if things work out. So, I'm going to hang PC and wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving. Thank God for America, Thank God for Prez. Bush, and Thank God for World's Finest.

7<regor
Ps. "PC" is "politically correct" not "Pressure Cooker," who I respect as a writer. As the author of this thread, only I am allowed to say anything political, so if I hear anything about the President or my politics or my Constitutional Law teacher, you'll wish you'd never clicked "reply." That's your only warning.

[Sproxie]

i am VERY thankful for your new chapter! it was AWESOME!!! I love this story. :D
and of course... Slade was brought back into the picture, this oughta be good. (well of course :rolleyes: )

[Matt A]

Yes! Slade's back! That's about all that needs saying for now.

As for politics...well, I've already learnt the hard way that zipping the lip is probably the best policy. Anyway, you already know my views on that particular subject.

[rrarbecy]

Politics are over and done with after the election. YOu have nothing to worry about from me. Anyway, THANK YOU KREG! Finally another chapter. This one, like all the others, was awesome.

GO SLADE!!!(not that I'm rooting for him or anything, he's just awesome.)

Anyway, I'm kinda out of the swing of things, where are BB, Robin, and Starfire? I forget. Didn't Rob and Star leave the planet or something?

[Kregor8]

Thank you all. Yes, Rrarbecy. Robin and Starfire are not on Earth at the present moment. I don't think I've told you where BB and Terra are. You'll have to wait on that. I'm rapidly approaching the point(s) to bring in the(se) charater(s). Ambiguous? Of course! :D

[Kregor8]

All right everybody. Here comes something new. Chapter six, completed. No breaks, no continuations. Just the whole chapter, then chapter seven comes after. All right! Ok, maybe it didn't turn out quite as good as I had hoped. I had this written Monday night and almost posted it, but I hated it and so I re-wrote most of it, increasing the word count by almost 1,000 words. Yes! Here's the catch though. I changed stuff so many times and in so many different ways, I ended up with a bunch of incongruities. Most of these, I believe I have fixed. If you notice anything really glaring, feel free to let me know. I hate to leave bad stuff lying around. Also, last chapter, Trent's age is supposed to be 25, not 23. I used an old planning document when I wrote that one, and hence got the wrong age. It's supposed to be 25, or he would have been a might to young five years ago to be in the Marines. Uh-huh. Ok, here's the new stuff.
Oh yeah - here's where the PG-13 rating first comes into play. A little language, which I felt I needed to keep because of the character, and suggestions of physical or sexual abuse. If you're sensitive to these things, you should be warned. You don't need to worry too much though. Ok, I'm done.

Trent Touren approached the building that had been the scene of so much excitement a mere fourteen hours ago. Though it was mid afternoon, the sky was dark with rain clouds. Trent glanced upwards and snorted. He had walked almost three miles in the pouring rain, and now, just as he was about to go inside, it decided to let up. Such was his luck, he reflected, as he stepped through the door.

Looking around, he noticed little difference from the night before, other than the police tape everywhere. He ascended to the second floor. Ok – the gapping hole in the ceiling between the second and third floors was new. Nothing else caught his attention, till he reached the fifth floor. The door to the room where Armstrong had been detained was shut and taped. Feeling no need to disturb the police work, Trent simply phased through. The room was soaked. Rain gathered in puddles on the plywood floor, mixing with mud from police boots and bringing blood out of the stains on the floor. The first place Trent looked was under the rain drenched bed. Nothing.

“Aaaahhhhh!” Trent’s scream rent the silence. He pounded his fists into the wall, bringing the last of the glass in the window crashing onto the floor. Failure! He walked over to the now empty pane and gazed out. Just another building. Just another empty office complex. Just a blah, gray wall, broken regularly by windows. Windows! He stepped back and sighted along an imaginary gun. Two right, one up…there. That must be the window where the sniper had fired from.

Whoever fired that shot could have left some traces, Trent though. Leaning out the window, he formulated his route. It was a sixth floor window – he could climb the wall, but his hands weren’t really up to that much strain. He could go around and go in the main entrance, but it might be a bit difficult finding the precise room. Worse yet, he might run into somebody. No, definitely not a good idea. The distance was about thirty-five feet – far great to jump. That wire, though…

Trent swung his body out the empty window, attaching his right hand firmly to the wall. A little tension would be okay. He likewise anchored his right foot, and reached out with his left hand for the cable he’d noticed before. Straining, Trent groped fruitlessly for a grip. Springing lightly outward, he released his foot and hand from the wall and took a firm grip on the flapping wire. Under the sudden shock of Trent’s weight, the cable began to groan. Trent looked over his shoulder at the fastenings that were holding it to the wall.

Great. Now I’ve misjudged the whole thing. Still, creak as it did, the cable held. Trent started to shimmy out along the cable. When he had gotten about twenty feet from the edge, a vicious wind whipped through the corridor created by the buildings. Hanging on for his life, Trent was swept backwards, nearly parallel to the ground. Moaning under the new strain, the cable gave a little. Trent looked down, trying to judge where he would fall. As suddenly as it had come up, the wind vanished, dropping him heavily back. This was simply too much for the rickety cable to withstand. With a quick snapping of brackets and staples, it pealed away from the building he had left. With a cry so very unlike Tarzan’s, Trent whipped towards the solid wall of the opposite building. Reacting just in time, he phased through the wall. Coming in a mite too low, he materialized his foot into the floor and fell flat on his face.

“Oooofff!” The breath knocked out of him, Trent lay motionless. The room he had just made such an unceremonious entrance into was a teenage girl’s bedroom. So, he had been wrong again. It was an apartment building, not an office complex. The girl, seated on the bed, did not notice the intrusion. Neither did the boy whose embrace she was locked in. As usual, this pair remained oblivious to the world around them. Trent picked himself up slowly and took in his surroundings. Seeing the preoccupation of the residents of the room, he turned to leave. Suddenly, the girl noticed him and gave a yelp of surprise and fear. The couple quickly disentangled themselves.

“Who are you?” the girl spoke harshly, no apparent fear in her voice.

“Excuse me. I wasn’t meaning to impose,” was Trent’s humble apology.

“How did you get in here?” the girl continued in the same strain, jumping off her bed and reaching for a sword that hung near the bed.

“I…fell through the window?” Trent offered a suggestion. By now, the girl had the point of the sword at his throat.

“The window’s closed.”

“It dropped shut when I fell through.”

“Uh-huh. I don’t even want to know why you were out there.”

“I was trying to get to the apartment above and to the right. Left…left. Your left. My right. Or…”

“Nobody’s in that room. It’s for rent. I’m sure if you ask the landlord, he’d let you look at it. Unless you were there to steal something,” she snarled, with a menacing jab of the rapier. Trent took a step back.

“No, no. Hardly. I was…could you show me to the room?” The girl glared at him, and was about to take another poke, when the boy spoke up.

“Easy, Sam, Easy. You don’t need to kill him yet.” He got off the bed and walked over to Trent.

“I’m George Pents. The landlord’s son. This is Sam…Samantha. Gripes. Yeah, I can show you the room upstairs.” George extended his right hand to Trent, who shook it coldly. George seemed anxious to do anything that might divert the stranger’s attention from the way that he had found them, or he would have realized just how ludicrous his idea was.

“Follow me,” he said, still smiling as he left the room. Trent started to go with him, but Samantha again barred the way.

“George, if Uncle Joe finds you here…”

“The heck with your uncle! He’s not home. Besides, if he was, he’d be to drunk to do anything anyway,” George swept her complaint aside. The three of them walked through the sty of a living room to the door. George was still talking to Trent.

“…down the hall. The apartment’s at the other side, but there’s only one staircase.” Trent was barely listening. He had noticed a dark bruise on the girl’s left shoulder, and was glancing around at the empty beer bottles and pack of cigarettes. Sam caught his gaze, and quickly looked at the ground, placing her hand over the bruise. She absent-mindedly kicked aside a bottle. Trent drew his own conclusions.

“So, you know where to go?” This was George again.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” was Trent’s hurried answer.

“Whatever. I’ll lead you up.” He turned the doorknob. Samantha leaned close to George as he stepped out.

“You’ll come back?” she whispered.

“No, not now,” he responded. “The park, tonight?”

“Oh George, not the park. Anywhere but there. Watch out for Uncle Joe.”

“The roof, then. I’ll see you tonight. And don’t worry!” Giving Samantha a peck on the cheek, he shut the door. He turned to Trent again.

“She’s always afraid that her drunk of an uncle is going to catch us together. As if he could even see straight!” he said with a chuckle. The laugh soured in his mouth, however, as a haggard man came stumbling down the hallway. He was furiously drunk; the very hallway reeked of alcohol. Lurching up to George, he grabbed him by the collar and hung on.

“You been seein’ my niesh, you little bashta’d?” George shook his head, but the man paid no heed. He was, aside from being drunk, extremely antagonistic. He continued, his voice sneering with contempt.

“You been makin’ shweet luhv to ‘er, eh? You mark my wordsh, little bashter, you’ll ‘gret the day you mesh’d wid her! You’ll roo the day, yesh yeh will, yah little devil!” He grabbed George’s cheek and twisted it. “Yah hear me, boy? Yah hear me?”

“I hear you Mr. Gripes. I remember. I wasn’t anywhere near Sam…” Gripes bared his teeth at him. “…Ms. Gripes. Nowhere. I’m taking this man up to see the apartment on the next floor. Honest, sir.”

“Damn right you were, bashta! I shmell my niesh’s perfoom on yeh. I knows. I ain’t show drunk ash that, dern it. You er gonna shuffer Georgie-boy, mahk my wors’d. I knowsh what goesh on in my own housh!” At this point, Trent intervened.

“Excuse me, Mr. Gripes, but the boy is telling the truth. He wasn’t making love to your niece. He’s going to show me the apartment upstairs, if you’ll just let go.” Mr. Gripes took his first notice of Trent.

“Yeh can go to hell,” he spat, throwing George away and fumbling with the door knob. “Yeh can go to the devil hishshelf, for what I care.” With this, he slammed the door shut. Trent and George walked in silence to staircase. As they to the sixth floor, they could hear the man yelling at his niece. Hearing a bottle smash, George could stand it no longer.

“Damn! I hate that man! I hate him!”

“Is he always so bad?”

“So bad? That’s the best I’ve seen him in over a month! If he didn’t pay the rent regularly…well, God help him. He doesn’t give a crap about anybody. He beats her too, if he feels like it. If Sam didn’t lock her door…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s not your problem. And thanks for standing up for me,” George bit his lip. “You didn’t have to lie to him, though.”

“Who was lying? You had all your clothes on.” George’s face reddened. “Better keep it that way. You were pushing the limits of “not anywhere near her.” George turned a shade redder. Trying to compose himself, he started babbling.

“I’d marry her if I could, tomorrow. Today…right now. I’d marry her and get her away from here. I’d go somewhere where that man would never find her. If only her father hadn’t died, he’d let us go…” George’s mouth ran on for several moments before he ran out of breath.

“Marriage is a serious thing,” Trent said in a low voice, glanced at the line that still lingered on his left ring finger. It had taken him four years to take off the wedding ring, and its shadow was still visible. He realized that they had stopped walking. He started down the hallway again. Lost in thought, he drifted back to the new face in his dream. Failure, Trent, you’re a failure, it wailed out in a sing-song howl. He was shocked when George spoke again.

“Here’s the room. I, uh, don’t really have a key…”

“It’s ok. Just knowing where to go is a step farther than I was before.”

“Yeah. Well, thanks again. I need to go. Don’t steal anything!” was his parting comment, coupled with a laugh as he dashed down the hall. Trent waited for him to be out of sight. He took a deep breath, and stepped through the door.

Trent started. Though he had known his shot was good, and he was as familiar with dead bodies as living ones, he was utterly unprepared for what he saw. The floor was covered in dark blood – almost brown with grime. There must have been gallons of it. And it smelled, too – but as he breathed in the fumes, Trent realized that it wasn’t blood at all. It was some sort of motor oil. His eyes snapped to the window. There, under the window, lay the body, and in its arms was clutched a .50 caliber sniper rifle. Trent knelt to examine the body. Yes, both his shots had connected with it. His face cracked a smile, thinking of that. One was in the chest, the other through the “brain.” Only, there was no brain. There were only wires and chips and electronic paraphernalia. Trent was looking at a robot. Granted, it was the most advanced and realistic one he’d ever seen, but it was a robot. He couldn’t imagine that two measly shots, no matter what caliber, could have easily stopped this thing. It must have simply run out of power. Or destroyed itself after it took the shot. But most interesting of all was the robot’s “face.”

There were only two colors visible on the robot. The first, black, covered every inch of the body and all of the head, except for a single oval in the second color, orange, covered where the facial features should be. The only other distinguishing marks were the two eyes and a stylized “S” mark on the ammo belt. Trent didn’t spend long examining the body. Of more interest to him was the gun. It appeared as though the gun was a Barrett M82, though he couldn’t be certain. It didn’t appear to have been damaged by the rain. He pried it from the stiff fingers of the automaton that had fired it with such deadly accuracy. No scope – well, the shooter had probably had enhanced vision.

Trent drew back the bolt. The shell was still in it. He pocketed it, then took it out and threw it in the corner. If he ever got picked up by the police again, it would be best not to have that on him. He selected a new bullet from the ammo belt, and loaded his new weapon. Throwing the gun strap over his shoulder, he nimbly leapt onto the window sill. He looked at the alley bellow. Nobody around. Trent slipped off the ledge and slid down the side of the building. As soon as he reached the bottom, he jumped around, flapping his hand wildly. Pain wasn’t what he’d been trying for. He couldn’t decide if it felt more like he’d gotten a rope burn, or if he had dragged his hand across a cheese grater.

“Uh-rg! And now it starts to rain again, too!” Trent shouted to nobody in particular. Well, don’t I look conspicuous, with a gun over my shoulder and a black trench coat. Oh well. He started towards his apartment. Aside from the elderly couple who gave him a pair of dirty looks, nobody bothered him on his way home. As Trent grew nearer, however, he could sense something was wrong. Indeed, soon he could smell smoke. One of the neighboring buildings must have caught on fire, he mused. He, he could see the red glow on the building walls. Coughing now, he rounded the last corner that blocked his view of the conflagration.

Trent stood stock still. Slowly, his hand went to his forehead.

“Oh no. Oh God, no,” was all he could murmur. His home – the Travoli’s building – was nothing more than a pile of smoking ashes.


Ok. There we go. I'm working on chapter seven now, so we might all see it by the weekend. Or maybe not. :D

[Rae]

Amazing......totally amazing!

I hope you can update soon!

[Sproxie]

Amazing......totally amazing!

I hope you can update soon!Definitely!


so we might all see it by the weekend. Or maybe not. :D
i hope we see it by the weekend. :evil:

[Matt A]

Nice, nice!

It's great to see that the film-noir traditions of the random psychotic drunk and setting the hero's house on fire have been kept up. It was all very well written to boot - we're starting to get a very real sense of Trent's talents as a detective.

One more thing: am I right in thinking that the robotic sniper was the property of Slade? And what will that do to the plot if I am?

[CaligoRae]

Good. I can't wait to hear the next chap, pls hurry.:anime:

[rrarbecy]

Wow. Does Sam have a lot of complaints? hehehehehehe. Get it? Gripes? ahehehehe...ehem...That was like one of Reid's jokes, wasn't it...

Anyway, Trent doesn't seem like such a bad guy, bailing out George like that. And his shock at the destruction of his home. It's kind of sad. This remains, argueably, the best story on this forum.

[Kregor8]

Ok all you peoples! Here is chapter SEVEN! The whole thing, all 4,518 words of it. So it might take a little while to read. But it will be worth it, I promise. Ok, here we go. It's fresh as can be, so there might be some mistakes. Yeah, I've said that before.

Chapter Seven



Trent stared in dumb astonishment. His home – burnt to the ground. Everything he owned. All he’d worked for. All the time he’d spent finding things he liked. All his mementos from Chrysanthemum. He’d put five years of his life into that apartment, and now he was watching it drift away in the ever strengthening wind. He stood, and stared. It was all he could think of to do. He didn’t even notice when someone laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I got here twenty minutes ago. I’ve been waiting for you to get here.” The voice was flat and monotonous. Raven. Trent didn’t even turn and look. “I suppose you guessed, but somebody set the fire. It was already raging when I got here. Your landlord and his wife were already dead. Shot through the head, both of them. Most of the stuff in your room was too burnt to save, but I did manage to get this.” Raven held out a black leather case to Trent. Finally, he looked away from the fire. He took the case for a moment, but didn’t seem to register its existence. He dropped it by his feet.

“I lost everything, there.” Raven just stood beside him, her arm around his shoulders. Somehow, he felt better with her there - less alone. “I had a collection of middle and far eastern weapons. I had a giant claymore that was dated back to William Wallace. I had at least ten different handguns, and three rifles. I guess now all I have is this one – the one that killed General Armstrong,” he snorted, taking the gun off his shoulder. “I had furniture that dated back hundreds of years, and that telephone was from…I don’t even remember. The twenties, probably. I had cds…so much music.” He sighed again. “I guess I can do without. It just really hits you, losing it all at once.” He gave Raven a squeeze and turned his back on what was left of the building.

“I guess I still have my laptop. Or at least, the case. Who knows how much damage it took,” he muttered, picking up the case from where it had fallen. He reached into the front pocket, and pulled out an iPod. He chuckled.

“Well, that’s some consolation. At least I won’t have to go without music.” He tried to turn it on, but there was no response. “Maybe it was damaged by the heat. I think I can fix it, though.” He smiled at Raven. She did not return the favor.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Raven asked. Trent stroked his goatee.

“No, not really. I’ll have to make some calls. There are plenty of people who owe me stuff.”

“I’ve got somewhere for you,” Raven said with a little hesitation. “Do you have transportation?”

“Yeah, that I have. Wait here.” Trent dashed down an alley to his right. Under a camo tarp, there was a shiny, black and gray Yamaha YZF-R1. Trent inserted the key and fired it up. Pulling up next to Raven, he shut off the bike.

“Need a ride?” he asked, placing the M82 in the gun rack. It stuck out at both ends – he had designed the rack to hold an M16. This rifle was almost twice as long. He slung the strap to the laptop case over the barrel and secured it.

“No helmet?” Trent passed his hand through his head.

“I’ve never seen a practical need for one, though eye protection is a must.” He put on a pair of blue tinted glasses. Raven sighed and climbed on behind Trent.

“Azarth, Metrion, Zinthos.” A black shell formed around Raven’s head.

“Clever. Very clever,” Trent said, starting the motorcycle back up and pulling away. “Where are we heading?”

“Titan’s Tower.” A grin lit up Trent’s face. “You know how to get there?”

“Who doesn’t?” He gave the throttle a sharp twist. The background blurred as he whipped around the few cars that were out on the roads. The rain bit into his face like a million needles, but he grinned from the sheer joy of speed. Raven’s arms dug into his sides.

“How fast are we going?” she screamed at him.

“Huh? Oh, thirty-five!” he shouted back.

“WHAT?” Trent heard police sirens.

“Oh, sorry eighty-five! Hang on tight!” Trent shifted down two gears and pegged the throttle again. The engine jumped to 11,000 rpm and went screaming towards the redline. There wasn’t much traffic on the road, but Trent was starting to find it hard to control the bike at one hundred ten in the rain, and with an inexperienced rider. He cut the speed down back down to ninety something. He peered outward, trying to calculate where he needed to go. At these speeds, there were to last-second decisions.

“Just keep going straight!” Raven yelled to him. “There’s a boat ramp at the end of the road.”

“A boat ramp?” He could see the water coming closer. It was only a matter of seconds.

“Just drive off it!”

“WATER!”

“Trust me! And floor it!” Trent gave the bike all it had. He was flying to his death, he was certain. The ramp loomed up. Just a gentle slope into the water. He tried not to think about how much it would hurt to hit the water at one hundred forty seven and a half miles per hour. It wouldn’t last long.

“Stop! Now!” Raven screamed in his ear. Trent’s eyes were as wide as they could be. Had he misunderstood Raven’s original instructions? He tried to skid the bike to a stop before they hit the water, but it was too late. They went flying into it, Trent fighting to control the slide he had started, Raven clinging tighter than Reynolds’s Wrap. Strangely enough, the water was just an illusion. Underneath was a tunnel running downhill to a pair of massive doors. When the bike finally stopped moving, Trent could have reached out and touched them. He jumped off the bike, his face red, not only from the rain, but also from furious anger.

“What’s the idea? You tell me ‘drive off the boat ramp,’ then, right before I fly off the damn thing, you scream at me to stop, I think we’re going to die, and then there’s a whole freaking tunnel behind it!” Trent threw his hands up in the air in a gesture of sheer frustration. Raven’s voice was her typical dead calm.

“If I hadn’t told you to stop when I did, we would have hit the doors. You were going to fast.”

“Well, you said to floor it! And, as a point of reference, you don’t “floor” motorcycles!”

“How was I to know you’d go that fast? I don’t usually ride motorcycles.”

“Yeah, well you certainly won’t be riding mine again,” he spat, rubbing his sides. “Now, how do we get inside?” Raven placed her hand on the door.

“Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos.” The doors swung open.

“Are those the only magic words you have?” Trent mumbled, climbing back on the motorcycle.

“No, I have some others. You don’t want to see what happens when I use them,” Raven said, starting to climb back on behind him.

“Ah, ah, ah! What did I just finish telling you about riding motorcycles?”

“It’s still quite a ways till the Tower.” Trent gave her a little push, keeping her from climbing on.

“Tough.” He twisted the throttle and shot away. Raven stood there for a moment, before muttering her magic words and disappearing in a black shroud.

* * *

George sat on his bed, straining his ears for a sound from upstairs. Before, he had been able to hear Joe Gripes shouting and yelling about something. He had heard him pounding on Sam’s door, and it had been all he could do not to run right up there and smack him around a bit. George wasn’t a powerfully built guy, but he had all the tenacity of a tiger, and didn’t consider Mr. Gripes to be much of a threat, especially when he was in a drunken haze, as he usually was. It was only two hours until he was supposed to meet Sam on the roof.

He would have preferred the park. The farther away from “Uncle Joe” that they could get, the happier he was. Even the incident with that alien didn’t bother him that much. He had believed that he had just dreamed the whole thing up, until Samantha had expressed such a strong objection to meeting there. He probably should ask her why she did…he still could have dreamed it up. He pictured the alien being crushed to death before his eyes. Yes, he must have dreamed it. People didn’t just squash up into balls and die. He must have dreamed it. Only two hours left to go, only two hours left to go.

* * *

Trent pounded on the door for what seemed to be the millionth time. Still no answer. He had already completely analyzed his surroundings. He was in some sort of garage. There were three empty bays, tools, a car lift, various empty boxes and cans. It seemed that this place hadn’t been occupied in years. The dust lay thickly on everything, and every time Trent smacked the door, it rose into the air in clouds. He had already tried phasing through, but to no avail. The door and walls had a tight electrical grid running though them. That was the one thing that fouled Trent’s powers. The way he could pass through things was by modifying the electro-magnetic field that his body’s atoms emitted. By changing this, he could pass through other things without disturbing them. If that thing possessed it’s own electrical current, however, his body simply couldn’t adjust fast enough. When the wires in walls were placed too close together, like they were here, he couldn’t do anything about it. He kicked the door. This time, it slid open. Raven’s cool voice drifted out, but he didn’t see her standing there.

“Still outside?”

“Yeah,” Trent said, his voice tense, “I’ve been here for at least two hours. Did you know there are exactly two-hundred fifteen blue tiles in the ceiling?”

“I though you could let yourself in.”

“Well, you were wrong,” Trent muttered, grabbing his stuff off the back of his motorcycle.

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘You were wrong!’” he shouted. “Anything to say for yourself?” There was a momentary silence. When Raven spoke again, her voice had a malicious edge to it.

“Tough.” Trent growled as the door slid shut behind him. Lights came flickering on, giving the hallway a blue-ish tint. Still no sign of Raven. Trent hazarded a question, as he walked down the hall.

“Where are you?”

“In the control room. Follow the lights, please.” Trent said nothing as he reached a fork in the path, one hallway lighted, and the other not. He turned down the lit one.

“Anything else I should know?” he finally asked.

“Take the staircase, please.” The door slid open with a whoosh and a click, revealing a staircase with the symbol “B2” painted on the wall in bright yellow. “As a matter of fact, yes. As you are my guest, I expect you to follow my rules.”

“Typical.” Ignoring this, Raven continued. “You are never to go into my room. Not by any means, or for any reason. If I am in my room, having a heart attack, you are not to enter.”

“Seems rather harsh.”

“I’ve had issues with this before.”

“So I figured.”

“Second, you do not have free reign of the Tower. I alone have the access codes for the security system, the doors, and the power grid.”

“We have our own power supply?”

“I have my own power supply. You do not have anything, except your room, which I will show you. Take this hallway, please.” The door, labeled “1,” slid open, revealing a hallway with many doors and hallways branching off. The lights pointed straight down, toward what looked like elevator doors. Trent marched down to these, which slid open silently. “Step inside, please.”

“Couldn’t you have come down and done all this in person? It would be much more pleasant,” Trent said as the elevator started upwards.

“You’ll learn I’m not a very pleasant person. Besides, you were hardly a paragon of virtue down in the tunnel.” Trent kicked the doors. “You needn’t be angry at me. You’ve brought it on yourself.” The elevator reached its destination and opened its doors. “At the end of this hallway are two large doors. Go through them. You’ll meet me there.” Trent walked swiftly to the doors, but they didn’t open like the rest. He searched the wall for a button of some kind, but found none. He sighed, and leaned against the doors, which immediately snapped open, depositing Trent on the floor. He groaned slightly, and picked himself up.

“How dumb can you get?” he asked himself out loud.

“Extremely. Trust me. I’ve seen people run straight into those doors many times.” Trent looked around, and spotted Raven, sitting on a large couch. The wall was made entirely of windows, offering a spectacular view of Old Jump City. New Jump must be behind them, the though, as he descended the stairs to the level of the couches.

“Would you put that gun away?” Raven asked, slightly irritated. “The windows are always being accidentally blown apart, and I really doubt that the City Council will pay the bills this time.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not loaded,” Trent said, swing the gun to the ground. The gun was lifted back up into the air by black energy, and the bolt was drawn back, releasing a still unfired shell.

“You’re right,” Raven said, no trace of a smile on her face. “You weren’t, a second ago, but you are now.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, as he dropped onto one of the sofas. “Why don’t you turn on the lights in here?”

“Wouldn’t be a good idea. All the lights I ran for you were on the inside of the Tower. Nobody could see anything from outside. When we turn on these, lights, however, the entire tower lights up. Everybody would know somebody’s in Titans’ Tower. Besides, the moon’s bright enough tonight.”

“So, you’re still undercover.”

“This is actually the first time I’ve come to the tower since we all left, five years ago. Amazingly, everything seems to be in working order.” Raven got up. “Come on, I’ll show you your room.”



* * *

George saw Samantha’s hand reach over the edge of the roof, and he dashed over to help her up. They had both become experts at climbing out their respective windows to get places. Love was a strong motivation, he figured. Yes, it must be, he decided, looking around him. What an ugly place this is! Only a fool would think this was a romantic location. Samantha broke his reverie.

“Rather depressing up here, isn’t it?”

“Sam, you read my mind.” He sighed, sitting down heavily on a heating duct. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the park?”

“Oh, no George! Don’t you remember what happened?”

“No.”

“It was horrible. We were there, then there was a…a thing! And it grabbed me, and then, it just squashed! Oh!” Sam grabbed George tightly.

“I thought I’d dreamed it,” he whispered. Then he realized that it wasn’t her memory that had made her cry out.

“Damn you, George Pents! I told you ‘at you’d ‘gret the day you touched her! I’m gonna cut yah to pieces, that I am!” It was Joe Gripes, holding a kitchen knife at George’s throat.





* * *

As they walked down the hallway, Raven said nothing. She didn’t even glace at Trent, and he decided not to push things. They passed doors bearing names; Robin and Starfire, Beast Boy and Terra, Cyborg, Cyborg’s Private Entrance, Goldfire, Tim. Finally, they came to a room that had no title. Raven stopped.

“Here you go. This used to be my room, until we all upgraded to larger rooms. It’s been used for storage for the past six years or so, so ignore the boxes. You can take care of them in the day sometime.” Raven touched the panel on the wall. “The pass code for this room is 1413. It only works on this room. If you attempt to use it on any other rooms, it will sound the alarm. Oh, I don’t think there’s a mattress on the bed – just the frame, so I don’t know what you’ll do about that.”

“Nice. I’ll think of something. Thanks, I guess. Where’s your room?”

“Down the hall. You are not to go there.”

“Right. One more question. Why does Cyborg have two doors?”

“We gave him two doors when we enlarged the rooms. He said he needed one for his robots.”

“Weird.”

“Not really. He only ever uses the one door.”

“Which one?”

“The private entrance one.”

“Figures. Goodnight.” Raven said nothing and continued down the hall. Trent punched in the code and the snapped open. Trent’s eyes widened. The carpet ran roughly from the door to the foot of the bed, but it hardly took a direct route, looking more like a ground fault than anything else as it snaked across the floor. The window was hung with black drapes, and the walls were a slate gray. There were boxes all along one side of the room, and scattered randomly across the floor. Aside from the bed, which was a large round affair that abutted the wall at the far end, there was no furniture to speak of.

“Well, this is going to take some redecorating,” Trent murmured to himself as he dropped onto the bed, which indeed, had no mattress. Perhaps there was a sleeping bag in one of those boxes. He placed his laptop case on the bed and started checking labels.



* * *

“Uncle Joe! Leave him alone!” Samantha jumped up and swung at her uncle, knocking the knife away. This only made Joe more furious, and he swung at Samantha with the knife, cutting her arm. She cried out and grasped the wound, which, though not deep, was fairly long.

“I ne’r woulda believed that my own neesh would turn on me like this. Af’er all the year’s I’ves cared for yeh, always selflishly, denying mehself so you wouldn’t have to go without! All these years o’ suffrin’!”

“Shut up, Uncle Joe,” Samantha sobbed. “You’ve never done anything for me!” George jumped up and held Samantha in his arms.

“Let me see that cut. We have to do something about that…” he started. Suddenly, Samantha screamed.

“Look out George!” Mr. Gripes had swung the knife, and it was inches away from burying itself in George’s back. Samantha screamed and threw her hands up in the air. Electricity crackled out of them, flowing in an unbroken stream into Uncle Joe’s chest. With a cry of anguish, he fell on the roof. Samantha covered her mouth to stifle another shriek, and the bolts stopped. George stood aside, stunned. Finally, he found the courage to speak.

“What the hell did you do, Sam?” She was doing her best to keep from falling apart.

“I don’t know, George, I don’t know, I don’t know!” Her attempts failed her, and she fell onto the roof, sobbing uncontrollably. George bent over the form of Uncle Joe. He put his head down, listening for a breath. He took his pulse.

“Sam, you’ve killed him.” Another round of sobs wracked her body. George moved over to her, gently lifting her up off the floor. “Sam, listen to me. I don’t know what you did, or how you did it, but you can be sure that the anti-mutant squad will be out to get you. You can also be certain the police are going to be hunting for you. He’s dead, Sam. You’re free!”

“What?”

“You have to run…listen to me, Sam!” he said as she broke down again. “You have to run. I don’t know where or to who, but you have to get out of here. Can you see that?”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” she said, wiping her eyes on George’s sleeve.

“Now, I have to call the police, but I’m going to give you five minutes. You need to get out of here, understand?”

“Yes, George. I’ll go. I love you, George.” She embraced him, and then dashed towards the staircase.

George picked himself up, and walked slowly after her. A plan was forming in his mind – the only question was whether he had the guts to go through with it. He walked towards his room, still thinking. Yes, it was the only way to save Samantha from both her uncle and the police. Yes, he had to do it. For Sam. For love.



George watched out his window as Sam left. She ran down the road to the left, and out of sight. Good. He opened his closet, and drew out a small revolver. He slowly walked back up the stairs to the roof, and sat down next to Uncle Joe. Now, he waited. It was all he could do.

After about fifteen minutes, Mr. Gripes groaned and opened his eyes. He saw George standing above him; he saw George’s hand extended to him.

“Come on, Mr. Gripes. We need to get you to the hospital. You were struck by lightning.”

“Struck by lightning? Oww! My head hurts.” Joe Gripes was shockingly sober. George hoped that wouldn’t ruin his plans.

“Where’s my niece? Where’s Sam?” he asked, his gaze darting around.

“She’s free of you, Mr. Gripes.”

“W-what the hell are you talking about, George Pents?” he stammered.

“Just what I said. Goodbye, Mr. Gripes.” George whipped up the revolver and shot him with three shots to the chest. Uncle Joe smiled stupidly, and fell heavily on his back.

“Buh-bye!” George turned and walked back downstairs. His hands were amazingly steady as he dialed the police.

“Hello? Yes. I’m calling to report a murder. Yes. A man’s been shot. Yes. Three times. Yes. Stone dead.” He gave his address. “The suspect? I did it. Yes, that’s right. I shot him. He’s on the roof. I’ll be waiting there.” George set down the phone. Now he was shaking. He plodded back up the staircase to the roof. He sat down on the vent next to the body.

Do I really have what it takes to go through with this? he wondered, as he put the gun to his head. Yes, yes, I do. He pulled the trigger.



* * *

Trent was shuffling boxes right and left. Everything was nicely labeled, but nothing could possibly contain a sleeping bag. Most of the stuff had labels like this:

Redbird Parts

Kitchen Supplies

BB’s Cookbooks

Starfire’s Photo Albums

Trent just set these boxes aside. No need to even look in them. After about ten minutes of this, he came across something of interest. From Raven’s Room. Well, that must have some good stuff in it. He set it aside. Tofu Monthly, no. Music (5 of 16), no. Ah! Camping Supplies. Finally. Trent opened the box. He saw gas lanterns, tent pegs, coils of rope, and a freaking huge spider. Nothing else, though.

“Dang!” he shouted. When nobody responded, he reached for his gun to kill the spider. The only thing he picked up, however, was his Barrett M82. Better not use that on a spider, he though, picturing the bullet punching through the floor into who-knew-what. He pushed the box aside, hoping the spider would stay put. He searched through several more boxes, but to no avail. Finally, he gave up in disgust. He’d just have to do without tonight. It wasn’t that bad. He could have been outside.

Trent replaced all the boxes where he had found them, making sure to put the box that contained the spider on the bottom. All that boxes, that is, but the one marked From Raven’s Room. This he carefully opened. Inside was a pair of Greek masks and some other interesting paraphernalia. Weird stuff that he had no idea what to with. The only thing that caught his eye was a mirror at the bottom of the box. He reached in and removed it, replacing the box on the stack. Sitting down on the bed, he picked up the mirror.

Being Raven’s mirror, it’s probably magic. Trent laughed aloud at the absurdity of his though. “Mirror, mirror, in my hand, who’s the greatest in the land?” he fell backwards in hysterics.

“Hey! No fair!” he shouted, still laughing, when a picture of Raven wearing pink appeared in the mirror! Suddenly, he stopped laughing, as the pink Raven reached out and grabbed him by the collar.

“Oh…” was all he had time to say, before the hand dragged him in.

* * *

*click*

George stared straight ahead. He pulled the trigger again.

*click*

“What the hell?”

*click* *click* *click*

“****!” he screamed, throwing the pistol down. This was the first point that his plan hadn’t gone as expected. He was supposed to be dead when the cops got here, not alive! He could hear them downstairs now. He walked over to the edge, and contemplated jumping. Just then, the police burst onto the roof. George sighed, and turned to face them. The large cop with the mustache spoke first.

“Are you the person who called?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Sit down.” He motioned with his gun. George took a seat on the air duct. “Now, I want you to tell us the whole story.” George took a breath, then began.

“I was here, on the roof, Samantha…that man’s niece,” he motioned with his foot, “came up here. She and I were sitting here together…”

“Just sitting?”

“She had her arm around me.”

“Ahhh. You may continue.”

“Her uncle, the dead man, came up here. He was drunk, and upset. He started swinging a knife around and cut Sam. He’s beaten her before – she always has bruises on her arms – and I couldn’t take it anymore. I took out my revolver and I shot him. Three shots, right to the chest.”

One of the policemen picked up the gun.

“This the weapon?”

“Yes,” George said.

“Ok. Come on, let’s go.” One of the policemen handcuffed George and they all marched out.

* * *

Samantha was walking now. She’d stopped running long ago, her legs exhausted. The rain was heavy now. You couldn’t tell that she had been crying, her face was so wet. Her black cloak was soaked with water, and her boots squished as she walked along. Suddenly, something caught her eye on a TV. She stopped in front of the store and stared at the screen.

“…in other news, the police have just arrest young man “George Pents” for the murder of his father’s tenant, Joseph Gripes…”

This was all that Samantha could stand to hear. Her body wracked afresh by sobs, she dashed into the tempest.


Ok, wasn't that just great? I thought it started badly. I didn't really get what I was looking for with the motorcycle scene, but I decided to just leave it. The George/Sam stuff is really my favorite here. I really wanted to end the chapter when George pulled the trigger, but no, I decided it was too cruel. So anyways. It almost came out how I wanted. Next chapter is going to ROCK! I've been looking forward to writing it ever since I started! WOoo! WOoo! Go Kregor! Go Kregor! It's ya birthday!
Ok, I'm calm now. Sorry. Anyway, enjoy the week, because I won't have a chapter for a while.

7<regor

[Rae]

As per usual great stuff

The motor cycle scene was good so i don't know why you're complaining

The bit with Sam and George was good as well, are they meant to be playing a big part in this story or just a subplot? or am i just going to have to wait and find out?

Any way i hope you update soon but don't rush whatever you do!

[rrarbecy]

If this chapter isn't as good as the next one, then the new one must be God-like. This is amazing, even for you. You shouldn't be complaining about anything.

[Matt A]

I second that motion.

From the looks of it, we're going to start having any kind of clue as to what's going on from about the next chapter onwards. I can't wait!

[Lord Welshi]

That was beautifully written, one of the best pieces of fiction that i have ever read on this forum. Fantastic descriptions, nice interactions between Raven and Trent, murder and intrigue, love and despair, and a bloody great big spider. What more do you want?

Lord Welshi

[oneeyemonkeypie]

I promise I will read these soon and edit this into a review as soon as I do, I just gotta assload of things I have to do today first. Look back here by like 10 tonight, I oughta be able to get a good review in by then. Maybe.


Edit***

OK, i read it. There's really nothing to say. You said every thing possible that could have been said. It couldnt have been done better.

Perfect. Please write more soon!

[Sproxie]

I 'Third' what rrarbecy said.

[CaligoRae]

coolness! What an awsome story. Pls continue.

[Kregor8]

Ah. So glad you all like it.
ShadowofaGhost - while you be right in some cases, remember that George shot Mr. Gripes in cold blood. Even under the circumstances you describe, he'd still be arrested and there'd be an investigation. Course, I still have some tricks up my sleaves...
CrowGirl - meant to answer you for a while. No, I've never written a book. If you saw some of my early writtings, you'd fall off your chair.

Ok. That's all I have time for.
7<regor

[ShadowOfAGhost]

Yes, it was in cold blood, but he could still say that it was in defense of her and that because it was in such a small time frame of running away and killing, it may be hard to prove anything in regards to when the events occured.

On a side note, I have a feeling that you have no intention at all to either have him jailed or killed, or at least not yet. You've dedicated too much time and effort in the story. I have a strong feeling that because of this, he still has a major role in the plot of the story.

[Kregor8]

Ah-hahahaha! You are quite right! I've put way too much into George to destroy him now. So, yes. You will never suspect what comes next. As for that, I was hoping to have a chapter done by now, but it isn't.
*list typical excuses* Mostly, it's because I want this chapter to rise to the level that everyone is expecting, so it's going to take a while longer. I'm sure you can all hang on for a while...

7<regor

[Crowgirl]

I KNOW, I KNOW!!!

Yeah, I'm sorry I haven't checked this out in a while, but my computer was 'whacked out' and we've finally got a new one. YAY!!!

This is godlike, as Rrarbecy says. No, I'm serious. This is awesome, actually, better than awesome. I loved the motorcycle thing, that was awesome.

I also liked the scene with the shooting (Yeah, I know, very descriptive...), when George (I think it was him) killed the peeps.

AWESOME!!!

[Kregor8]

Crowgirl, you are very naughty. Even after I explicitly asked you not to fill up my thread with (funny but) meaningless garbage, you did anyway. But, you saved me from a double post, so thanks. Plus, it's Christmas. Merry Christmas all. Chapter Eight right here. Next week, I'll post some questions for feedback.

Yep. Today's Christmas. I promised a chapter, and I delivered. I hope you like it as much as I do, because I had a blast writing it. It's 8,543 words, so I appologize for the length. But when you've finished, it will all be worth it.

Trent opened his eyes and looked around. He was lying on grass – strange grass. It was thick and luscious, almost like a sheepskin rug in softness, but it wasn’t green. It was yellow. He sat up and stared at his surroundings. His eyes practically popped out of his head at the strange sight around him.

Trent was outdoors, sitting on a small hill. The world was soft and pleasant. The pine trees were tall and straight, their needles long and fluffy. The sky was blue and bright, the clouds fluffy white blobs. There was a stream running nearby – its water was crystal clear. It was a beautiful scene, except for one abnormality. The thing that made everything so odd was the color scheme. There were all manner of pastel pinks, blues, yellows, and oranges, and there was white and some shades of gray, but that was it. No green, no purple, no full bodied red. The grass was yellow where he sat, but it faded to orange the closer it got to the water. The tree’s trunks were brown, but their needles were pink and yellow. There also weren’t any sharp edges anywhere. Even the rocks were smooth and looked almost spongy. A pink and blue butterfly fluttered by Trent’s nose. The whole world was a page out of Dr. Seuse; a coloring book, carefully filled in by a colorblind child; some kind of a happy dream. Trent felt out of place in this land, which was warm and fuzzy, through and through.

Trent stood up and turned around. Crouched on the ground behind him was Raven. He yelped and jumped back. She giggled. No, on second though, this wasn’t Raven at all. For one, she was just a little girl – maybe eleven or twelve. Secondly, she was wearing a pink cape and hood. Underneath, she wore a black turtleneck and a pair of pink corduroy overalls. She giggled some more and grinned at Trent. For third, Trent had never heard Raven laugh.

“Hello!” she said, her voice as soft and cheery as everything else in this strange place.

“Uh, hello,” Trent returned, his voice sounding dull and flat in comparison to the girl’s almost constant giggle. And she never stopped smiling. “Where are we?” She grinned again, flashing a set of perfect, white teeth.

“Raven’s world.”

“Raven’s world?”

“Uh-huh. A world all her own,” she said, jumping up and spinning around, her arms flying out. Trent looked around again and raised his eyebrows. This didn’t look like anywhere Raven would spend time, let alone own. He decided to drop the matter.

“How did I get here?”

“Through the mirror, of course, silly!” She stopped spinning. “You were laughing, so I though you’d be lots of fun. Then, I brought you in!” Trent’s eyebrows had reached their apex. The girl fell over again, laughing. “Stop doing that with your eyebrows! They’re bound to fly right off your head!”

“Uh-huh. Like eyebrows can ‘fly right off your head,’” he said, unsuccessfully trying to push them further up on his head.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she managed to choke out around a constant stream of giggling. Trent had warmed to the joke now, and reached up with his hand to try to force his eyebrows even higher. Suddenly, they did indeed fly right off his head. They just lifted right off and started flapping away like birds.

“Hey!” Trent shouted, snatching after them. He caught the right one and slapped it back in place as he made a lunge for the second one. The girl held her sides and rolled on the ground, practically hysterical now. Trent managed to catch his other eyebrow and carefully replaced it. This place is completely out of control. He turned to the girl, who was still lying on the ground.

“Hello?” he asked. “Do you need help?” She immediately stopped and sat up.

“No, I’m quite alright. I certainly made the right choice when I brought you in, Trent.”

“You know my name?”

“Of course I do, you goose!”

“What’s yours?”

“Raven.” Trent’s eyes narrowed. “But you can call me Joy.”

“Alright. Joy is a nice name.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So, this is Raven’s world.”

“It sure is,” Joy said, taking a seat on an oversized toadstool better suited to Wonderland than Earth. “This is where I live.”

“I can’t imagine Raven building something like this.”

“She didn’t. I made all this.”

“You made it.”

“Yep.”

“We are talking about the same Raven, right?”

“I don’t know,” Joy said with a smile. “What Raven are you talking about?” Trent rubbed his goatee in thought.

“Oh, you know. The one with the light skin and the purple hair…”

“La-vender,” Joy said, stretching out the first syllable. She flipped down her hood. Underneath, her hair was similar to Raven’s, except that Joy’s was done in two pigtails.

“Ok, lavender. She doesn’t smile much and never tells you what she really means.”

“Yep, same Raven.” Joy waved her fingers at a nearby mushroom and it twisted into a likeness of Raven’s head and shoulders. “She’s the one in charge here,” she went on, gesturing to the pink spotted bust, “but we get to design our territories however we want.”

“We?”

“Oh, yes! You must meet my sisters. They’re sure to love you. Come on, we’ll go visit some of them!” Joy jumped up from the toadstool and started wandering down the path, buzzing and giggling all the while. Trent followed, too stunned to do much else.

* * *

George stared blankly at a spot on the wall. They had been interrogating him for three hours now. He just numbly answered, neither taking in the questions nor processing his answers. Ever since he first got here, it had been one monotonous string. He didn’t know if he had incriminated himself. He didn’t even care. The only thing he knew was that he hadn’t betrayed Samantha.

Yes. No. A kitchen knife. No, I don’t know how he was burned. No, I hadn’t heard that he had been struck by lightning. No, I wasn’t on friendly terms with him. Yes, I spent a large amount of time with Samantha. That’s a private matter. No. I doubt it. I never was under that impression. That’s still a private matter. Yes. Many times. Up and down her arms. No, damn it, it’s a private matter. I’m not sure. He might have. In my father’s name. No, he would never let me touch it. Yeah, I’ve shot before. Deer, out in Montana last year. Go ahead, what do I care? No, I don’t know where Samantha is. Will you not quit? No, dammit, I didn’t have sex with her. You happy now? Yeah, well, same to you. No, I don’t regret a thing.

That last one was a lie, he thought. He did have regrets now. He should have run away with Samantha. Why did he have to be so bone-headed and think that it would solve all her problems if he died for her? That he could be her own, personal Jesus. How brain-dead can you be? Now, instead of being happy with her somewhere, he was in an interrogation room, being bugged by some idiot in uniform who possessed half the brains he had used when he sent Samantha off. At least she was out of it. If she could get away and be happy somewhere, he would resign himself to whatever fate.

“…see often? Mr. Pents? Mr. Pents, are you even listening?” George’s eyes slowly focused on the speaker.

“No, frankly, I’m not. Is it even legal for you to hold a minor like this?”

“Is it even legal for you to question the legality of it?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.” The interrogator threw down his clipboard in disgust. An officer walked in the door.

“See Mr. Pents to his cell,” was the order barked out. As he was marched out, George’s thoughts returned to Samantha.

If only she’s safe and happy, if only she’s safe and happy, if only…

* * *

Samantha Gripes shivered as the cold October wind whipped into the alleyway. She huddled up into a tighter ball. Her cloak was soaked through and through; the rain still came and went in bursts. She was hungry; she was tired; she was terrified. She missed George.

What a fool she had been! To let him take the blame for her actions – what had they been thinking? Only a fool would do something like that. Or somebody in love. She sobbed again, as this though crossed her mind. He had taken the blame to give her a chance to escape, and here she was, cringing in a grungy alley.

No! She would not lie here in an alley being rained on. She would not let George’s sacrifice be in vain. Samantha pulled herself up and started out again, blindly going wherever she happened to drift.

* * *

Joy danced ahead along the road, Trent following at a safe distance. He never knew when she would whip around, arms flailing, and shout to him to notice this or look at that. Weren’t the flowers beautiful? Weren’t the rabbits cute, munching on the (pink) lettuce? Trent smiled and nodded his head in response to every question. Suddenly, Joy was right beside him.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” This was the first time that Trent had heard her ask a question without grinning, and it worried him. He was quick to reassure her.

“Oh, yes, of course I am. I mean, am not. Am. Or, I should say…” Joy grinned again, as he fumbled with the words. “I am listening to you; your country is fascinating; and I want you to show me all you can.” Joy leapt up, wrapping Trent in a hug.

“Hurray! I knew you cared!” She linked her arm with his and continued skipping along the path, gesturing to everything with her free hand and chattering all the while.

As they continued on, Trent’s countenance lightened. Maybe it would be good for him to spend a little time with such an embodiment of happiness. It wasn’t very often he laughed. His job was far too serious. He had far to many terrible things on his mind. He glanced down at the figure whose head barely reached his elbow. Yes, he was having a good time, for a change.

Suddenly, the world changed. Trent was hit by a blast of frigid wind that bit into his bare arms like a knife. The pastel landscape that had been so pleasing to the eye had been replaced by a craggy, frozen wasteland. Wind roared down into the valley they were standing in, whipping the snow into a frenzy. Joy unlinked her arm and flipped her hood back up. She looked critically at Trent’s black T-shirt.

“Oh, you’re not dressed for this at all!” she abruptly exclaimed, genuine concern in her voice.

“Where are we now?”

“Sister Sorrow’s realm.” Trent’s mind made a staggering connection.

“Sister Sorrow?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

“Raven, of course. See those two hills?” Joy pointed to two ominous mountains that formed a sharp valley afar off. “Her house is between those hills. But we can’t go there now. Not with you dressed like that. Come on, let’s go back.” She spun around and pulled Trent after her. This time, he noticed two stone pillars on either side of the road. As soon as they had passed the pillars, Joy’s paradise returned. Trent rubbed his already chapped arms.

“So, we’re not going to see your sister?”

“Oh, sure we are! We just aren’t going to go see Sister Sorrow!” she said with a laugh.

“You have more sisters?”

“Yes, four of them. Sister Sorrow, Sister Courage, Sister Knowledge, and Sister Sloth.”

“Quite a family. Let me guess, their names are all “Raven” too,” Trent commented, as they journeyed down the road in the opposite direction.

“Uh-huh. And then there’s Brother Rage.”

“Brother Rage?”

“He’s ever so much nicer than Sister Rage. We used to have her around, but Raven kicked her out. We all did, seven years ago, when we got rid of Trigon. His name is Raven too, you know.”

“Trigon’s?”

“No. Brother Rage’s name is Raven. Don’t ever mention it to him. He thinks it’s a horribly girly name. He still gets really angry, sometimes. But Raven makes him stay pretty low key.”

“Who’s Trigon?”

“A demon-thing. He’s some kind of a ruler or something – he has a kingdom in an alternate dimension. He was pretty strong. But we all got together – all of us except Sister Rage – and we threw them both out. That’s when everything was destroyed. There was a ferocious battle, and the only thing that was left was the portal. So we tied them up – do you have any idea how much rope it took to tie up Trigon? – and threw them out the portal. Then we got to rebuild, and I got a whole quarter all to myself!”

“That’s not really fair to everyone else, is it?”

“It all works out. Sister Sloth couldn’t take care of her own place anyway. She just hangs out with Sister Knowledge. Brother Rage came afterward. He showed up when everything was almost done. Raven broke a few things. She showed him who was boss. He’s pretty docile now. He lives on the far end of Sister Courage’s quarter.”

“So, everyone is named for her defining attribute? Joy, Sorrow, Rage, and so forth?”

“You could say that,” Joy smiled. “But don’t let Brother Rage catch you calling him “she.” Besides, we’re all much deeper than that.”

Without warning, the surrounds changed again. This time, they were in a deep evergreen forest. The road here was little more than a footpath worn through the woods. Sitting its large haunches directly in the middle of the path was the largest black bear Trent had ever seen.

* * *

The security guard leaned up against the wall and yawned. He glanced at his watch. 3:47 A.M. He yawned again.

“Well, Billy, old boy. Just another two hours and you’ll be goin’ home for a good, old fashioned sleep-through-the-whole-dang-day. *yawn* Why does anybody need to guard this place anyway? It has the best electronic security system made by man…”

Just then, the blue baseboard lights faded out, coating the hallway in a blanket of darkness that no human eye could pierce.

“Well, dang it all. State-of-the-danged-art indeed! Maybe human labor is best, after all.” Billy reached up and switched on a light on his hat, casting a white spot about three feet wide on the opposite wall. He reached for his radio.

“Hey, Jamie. Got a dang power outage up here on level six. Can you do something about it?”

“Billy, you old geezer! You sure you’re eyes are up to this? The system reports full power and functioning.”

“I may be old, dang you, you young wiper-snapper, but I’ll still kick your butt any day!”

“Yeah, maybe if I bend over, old man. Here, I’ll show you that I trust you and switch over to emergency backup. Remember, I’m doing this on your word, so if anything goes wrong, you’ll take the heat.” The baseboard lights faded back on again, their blue glow only half what it was before. Suddenly, the blue lights were replaced by red ones, and a small signal went off in Billy’s earpiece.

*whee,whee,whee,whee*

“Jamie! We’ve got a break in!”

“Yeah, I see it. Guess you were right. I’ll get that checked. It’s in section twelve. Where are you?”

“Section seven. I’ll go check it out.”

“Billy, wait for backup. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I can take care of it, Jamie! I’m not as danged old as all that.”

“Well, I’m sending some men up…”

“And I’m not waiting around for anyone. There’s a break in. I’ve been waiting twelve danged years to take down some idiot who broke into the jail, and I’m not letting any young hot-shot take my chance. Now, are we still on for dinner at your place, ‘morrow night?”

“I guess so. Stacy would love to see you again.”

“Yeah, well, I’m looking forward to seeing her too. I’ll bring her a little gift. Tell your wife I’ll be there. Ow!”

“Billy?”

“Ah, it’s nothing. Just a danged mosquito bite or something like…”

*clunk*

“Billy? Billy? You there? HEY! I want some troopers at level six, sections seven, eight, eleven and twelve! We’ve got a man down up there and a intrusion in section twelve! Let’s move, people!”

* * *

4:37 AM. Victor “Cyborg” Stone’s phone rang, its jarring electronic noise shattering the silence that had been marked only by the slow, measured breathing of a sleeping man. He snorted and rolled over in bed. The phone cried out again, a relentless hunter of sleep, given energy by the urgency of the man on the other line. The blast of sound finally roused Stone.

“ ‘Ello?” he muttered groggily into the piece.

“Hey, chief. It’s Oliver. Got some news.”

“Ok, let’s hear it,” Stone said, his voice now clear and his mind alert.

“Alright. Check this – you know the kid they brought in last night. The one who shot the drunk?”

“Yeah, George Tents.”

“Pents.”

“Huh?”

“His name. It’s Pents.”

“What about him?”

“Well, it all seemed pretty routine. Nothing really abnormal. Kid grabs dad’s gun, shoots the drunk, girl runs off terrified. But, you’ll never guess where he lived.”

“You’re right, I won’t.”

“Right next to the place where you guys busted that gang last night. Or I guess two nights ago. So I figured I’d better check the connection.”

“What’d you find?”

“I showed him a picture of the guy who got shot. No reaction. I showed him a few of the gang members, and same thing. Well, when I showed him a picture of the guy you hauled in, Touren, well, he was right off,

‘Yeah, I know him. He stopped by looking for an apartment today.’ He must have run right over after you released him. So, I sent some guys over there, to check out the apartment. Inside, they found a body.”

“A body?”

“Uh-huh. Two bullets in it. And they matched up to the gun we’ve got from Touren.”

“So, he shot somebody after all.”

“Not quite. The body – it was a robot.”

“A robot?” By this time, Cyborg had gotten out of bed, had switched over to his internal phone, and was walking out the door. “Why didn’t you call sooner?”

“Well, I was going to wait till morning to tell you – I figured you’d be asleep and all, so I wouldn’t bother you.”

“And now?”

“Something big just happened. Someone came and busted him out.”

“Busted the Pent kid out?” Victor jumped into his car and slammed the door.

“Uh-huh.”

“We lose anybody?”

“They hit one of the guards with some kind of sleeping agent, but he’s gonna be alright. And we got one of their agents, too. You’re not going to believe this.”

*silence*

“Uh, Oliver? I’m pretty willing to believe anything right now.”

“Ok. I’m really a Martian.”

“O-LI-VER!”

“Ok, ok, jeez! The guy we shot was another of the same robots.”

*bwe-e-e-e-e-ep!* Cyborg slammed the gas as he roared through a stoplight.

“Chief?”

“Just some car, blaring its horn. I’ll be right over. Get those two robots down where I can look at them. I’ve got a pretty good suspicion about this.” Cyborg threw his car into a right turn. There was only one thought on his mind now. He never would have suspected, if it hadn’t been for Raven, but he as sure of it now as if he had already seen the bodies.

Slade.

* * *

It hadn’t seen them yet, Trent was sure. It just kind of lay there, snuffling at itself. He started to back away, but Joy grabbed his arm.

“It’s ok. It’s not going to hurt us.”

“That’s the biggest bear I’ve ever seen,” Trent whispered, his voice steady but with a pensive air to it. He felt for a weapon and realized he had none. No swords, no guns. Just his fists, feet, and peculiar power. He wasn’t very worried about himself – he could just phase through the beast. He was more concerned about Joy. She was quite a little girl who didn’t seem to be showing much common sense.

“Really?” she practically shouted. “Cause there are much bigger ones on the other side of Brother…” Joy moved down the path towards the bear. Suddenly, it noticed them. It gave a bone-chilling roar and stood on its hind legs.

“Joy…” Trent muttered, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. “That didn’t seem like a good idea.”

“Hmm. Maybe now he’ll hurt us.” The bear took a lumbering step toward them, raising its right arm for a swipe at Trent, who now stood between it and its prey. The beast had started to bring down its paw, when there was a small “snick” noise. The bear gave a gurgle and fell on its face, a golden arrow protruding from its back.

Joy leapt forward, gently pushing Trent aside in her dash for the carcass. She scrambled to the top and grasped the arrow. With a yank, she pulled it free, splattering blood and fur on her otherwise spotless pink corduroys. Holding the arrow aloft, she shouted out.

“I win!” Trent just scratched his head in bewilderment. “I win, I win!” Joy danced on the body, squashing down the fur and forcing blood from the wound. A woman dropped down from the tree above.

“Oh stop it. You can have the pelt. I don’t care,” she told Joy, her voice betraying more than a little caring about the fate of the bearskin.

Trent examined the newcomer. She was tall and sleek, wore a dark green cloak similar to Joy’s, and looked more than usually strong for a woman her size. Trent hazarded a greeting.

“Hello.” The woman turned. Under the cloak, she was wearing various pieces of camouflage clothing. A T-shirt, a pair a cargos, and a headband that held back a nest of lavender hair were the main features. She snatched the arrow away from Joy.

“Did you let him in here, Sister Joy?”

“Yep.”

“That’s not going to make Sister Knowledge happy.”

“Oh, hush.”

“Well then, have it your way. Hello, Trent.” Trent spoke again.

“You must be Sister Courage.”

“Yes, but I’m not your sister. Courage will do for a name.”

“Thanks for stopping the bear.”

“You’re welcome. But you weren’t in any real danger. Sister Joy could easily have taken it down.”

“I trust I could have too, but thanks all the same,” Trent finished, put off that this new woman counted Joy as stronger than him.

“I guess you’re taking him to the portal, are you not, Sister Joy?”

“Yeah, we’re headed that way. Can we stop by your place?”

“No particular reason to. But I guess you can. I have biscuits and jam…”

“Ooh, goody. Of course we’ll come.”

“Way to invite yourself…”

“Did you say something, Trent?” Courage asked.

“Yes. Do you need any help with this carcass?” he asked, glad his comment had gone mostly unnoticed.

“No, I think I can handle it,” Courage responded, hefting the body into the air with one arm. Trent’s eyes popped at this feat, but Joy seemed to find it normal. As they made their way down the narrow path, Joy whispered in Trent’s ear.

“You don’t need to worry about your eyebrows here. It was just a joke I played on you in my land. I don’t think Sister Courage would do the same. She’s more ‘mature.’”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Trent said, smiling.

* * *

Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos, Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos. Once again, Raven found herself sitting on the roof, meditating. She hadn’t been back to Titans Tower since they had all left, five years ago. Just walking in now had blasted her with memories that she didn’t need. And she had to deal with Trent, who was being a typical, self-centered jerk. She sighed, breaking the meditative trance. She’d been doing too much lately, part of her said. She needed some assistance. Cyborg had offered…and she knew how to get in touch with Robin and Starfire. He was calling himself Nightwing, now, wasn’t he?

“No!” she shouted. “You’ve come this far by yourself. You don’t need any help now.”

“You could be wrong,” the first part of her said. “It took all of us working together to beat Slade before. When Robin tried to…”

“Shut up!” the second part shouted, her eyes glowing faintly yellow. “Are we not Raven? Your friends made you weak. Dependant! You didn’t need them to defeat Trigon, did you? You didn’t need them to defeat Dr. Light. You didn’t need them to defeat Mumbo. You haven’t needed them to survive these past five years. Now, focus!” Raven shook her head and blinked her eyes, the glow fading out. Rage has been getting out of hand, lately. Maybe it’s time I went and smacked him around a bit. Still, he did have a point. She looked out over the city.

All across the city, lights flicked on and off, windows lit and dimmed, car started and stopped. Red to green, green to red, with a brief stop at yellow in between. Life went on as normal, without the Titans as constant guardians. It had been five years and the world hadn’t fallen apart. True, there had been a slight increase in crime, but no psychotic villains roamed the streets. No robot armies marched through the square. No natural elements wrecked havoc at city hall. Yes, the city was peaceful, in a way. The only recent trouble had been a spat with Mumbo that she had very delicately taken care of. Since there was no team to put them down, no villains bothered to rise up. The HIVE had been shut down long ago – the result of government regulations and incompetent accountants. It had simply caved in on itself – the Titans hadn’t done that. Raven closed her eyes and started chanting again.

“Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos. Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos.” Soon, Raven’s mind was floating free of all the trappings of the day. Memories, conflicts, even her body were left behind. As she drifted out over the city, the words became lost in the stream of vision that assaulted her brain. This was what she most loved – to go soaring over the city, free from troubles, free from cares, free from stupid dependencies on people she hadn’t seen in five years. Her mind twisted northward as it felt a tremendous surge of energy. Perhaps tonight wouldn’t be as carefree as she had hoped. Raven’s mind swooped low over the city, taking on the shape of a giant black shadow-bird. There! And there! That was the source.

She landed on a windowsill of a large tenement, black with dirt. Her avatar arranged itself in a more-or-less womanly form and stepped inside. In the middle of the room was a girl – she couldn’t have been more than sixteen – collapsed in a heap. She wore the remains of a pair of blue jeans and a pink button down, but they both looked horribly scorched. Thrown over her was a heavy black cloak, also smoking. Electricity seemed to dance around the room. It scampered across the ceiling, it scratched its way over the floor like so many rats. Raven’s image hovered over the floor, searching for the source of this disturbance. She closed her shadowy eyes and extended tiny black wisps, feeling now for what could have unleashed such a torrent of power. As one of the feelers touched the girl, Raven received a slight jolt. Then the power must be emanating from the girl herself! The avatar reached down to touch the girl, but she stopped, her hand an inch away from the sniffling dynamo. She recognized this girl.

Without warning, the figure, who had so far remained crumpled on the floor, snapped straight up. Her eyes were wide and blazing a white-blue. When she shouted, her voice crackled like a live current. Raven could feel the raw, untamed power as what was once a girl screamed at her.

“You hell beast! Go back to the shadows where you came from! I’m not coming with you! I’m not going to let George’s sacrifice be a waste!” Bolts of electricity flew from her fingers, striking Raven’s image directly in the gut. Raven’s mind shrieked as it was snapped back to her body, her mind colliding with such force that it actually flung her across the roof. Raven crawled to the door and shakily dragged herself downstairs. Just one more thing she needed to deal with, she though, as she fingered the sizeable burn on her stomach.

* * *

Travelling through Sister Courage’s land was a harrowing experience. The path was narrow, the trees closed in on it, and you could never be certain when the branch you were about to grasp was indeed a branch and not a snake. True, as a Marine, Trent had been in tighter squeezes and less inviting places, but never with a little girl. Joy seemed incapable of grasping the basic ideas of stealth. She cared little for being quiet – her mouth never seemed to stop moving – nor did she seem to mind snapping the branches in everyone’s faces. Of course she insisted on dashing ahead and of course she would keep spinning around as though she were still in her own little world.

“Don’t worry about her,” Courage said, motioning to Joy, who had again tripped backwards over a trailing vine. “She’s always like this. It’s just her nature.” Joy bounced back up again, unscratched and untroubled.

“To be careless?” Trent asked.

“No,” she grunted as she switched the bear from her left to her right shoulder. “To be carefree. If she was careless, she’d be tripping because she was clumsy. She keeps tripping because it doesn’t bother her. That’s who she is.”

“I fail to see the difference.”

“You don’t know her well enough.”

“Nothing really fazes her, does it?” Trent snorted, as she let another branch fly in his face.

“You’d be surprised at what will. But it’s never a good idea to try to unsettle her. Joy can be sorrowful and Sloth can be energetic, but the natural order of things is easier on the mind.”

“Who’s mind? Yours?” Trent asked, not completely understanding.

“No, Raven’s.” Trent shrugged, still basically clueless as to what anyone was talking about. Joy shouted out.

“And when we get there…Oop!” Over she went again, head over heels, down a small incline. She popped up, laughing. “When we get there, you’ll have to see Sister Courage’s trophy hall. She has all sorts of amazing things.” Joy dusted herself off and continued on her merry way, splashing through the stream that wandered through the gully she’d tumbled into.

As he passed, Trent surveyed the stream. It was fairly wide here, the water still running clear and strong, but with a more wild air to it than it had in Joy’s country. He glanced downstream to where the stream turned a corner. Courage noticed his glance.

“There are some spectacular waterfalls at the edge of the my land. That stream runs clear to Sister Knowledge’s land, where it becomes a lake. I’m sure Sister Joy will show you some time.”

“Speaking of that, what time is it now?” Trent looked in vain to the sky for an idea of time, but all he could see were the branches of giant spruce and hemlock trees. Occasionally, a golden ray or two would drop down, but for the most part all the light was provided by a sort of diffuse glow that seemed to come from the trees themselves. Courage thought a moment before answering.

“About 4:15 in the morning, by your time.”

“Wow. How long have I been here?”

“I can’t really say. For one thing, time moves differently here than it does in the outer world. For another, I’m not really sure when Joy brought you here.”

*thwack!*

A black arrow flew out of the forest, whipping through Trent’s body and into the tree beside him. Courage dropped the bear and whipped out her golden bow, an arrow knocked and ready. Joy stopped dead in her tracks, for the first time looking hurt. Trent nonchalantly took hold of the arrow’s shaft and pulled. The barbed head was imbedded in the tree trunk too deeply, and he couldn’t budge it. Trent growled. His eyes glowing orange, he snapped the arrow off and stood defiantly facing the area it had come from. Nothing emerged from the woods except a fiercely bestial growl.

“You know of any animal who can shoot a bow?” Trent snarled, whipping the broken projectile into the woods.

“It wasn’t an animal. And it wasn’t a bow,” Courage murmured. “Please don’t get angry. He can’t really help it.”

“Who can’t?” Trent shouted, his eyes burning brighter with each word he snapped out.

“Brother Rage.” Four red pinpricks of light appeared in the forest, rapidly growing larger with each crashing step. Abruptly, he burst into the clearing, his teeth bared in a vampiric grin. In his right hand was a heavy black crossbow, on his back a quiver filled with rough, black arrows. He wore a crimson cloak similar to his sisters’, but his was ragged on the bottom and had a metal barb on each corner. Rage wore a black suit of armor with red runes engraved in the arms. His fist, which was the first thing to come flying at Trent, bore a black ring with a triskel engraved in it. Trent easily ducked the blow, bending to the right and down.

Swinging the crossbow at him, Rage screamed in a high, piercing voice.

“Who let you in here? What makes you think you have a right to be in my world? Fight, you fool!” Obliging, Trent drove his right foot into Rage’s left side. Rage shrieked in frustration and grabbed Trent’s foot, intending to throw him over his head. Trent simply phased his foot out of his opponent’s grasp and delivered a double left punch, striking Rage in the chest twice. By now, however, Rage had reached such a furious state that no blows seemed to daunt him. His hand glowing with a black aura, he swung wildly at Trent, striking him in the ear. As he pulled back his fist, a small spike popped out of the ring, scoring Trent’s cheek. Doubling an knifehand strike with an uppercut, Trent managed to knock Rage’s head back into his hood. One pair of eyes covered, Rage was disoriented for an instant.

That was all the respite that Trent needed to make his move. Knocking Rage backwards with a snap kick to the chest, Trent grabbed his opponent’s leg and vaulted forwards and down, intending to snap the bone in two. Somehow, Rage managed to get his other leg up and kicked Trent full in the chest, catapulting him into the air. Unshaken, Trent landed on a large tree stump, daring Rage to come get him. Rage sprung up to meet him, his hood now down, revealing a shock of spiky purple hair.

As they traded blows, Joy dashed back to her sister’s side. By now, she had a very worried look on her face, the counterpart to Courage’s now scholarly observation of the bout.

“Oh, I had hoped this wouldn’t happen…” Joy whimpered.

“Should have put more force on that one…nice block. Ooh!” Joy poked her sister to get her attention.

“What if Trent loses?” Joy’s eyes were wide with the realization of what was going on. “What if he wins?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” was Courage’s calm answer. “It’s almost over. Look.”

Trent’s foot collided with Rage’s shoulder. He’d mistimed that one. It should have hit his temple.

*smack*

*crack*

Trent had long ago learned to appreciate feet over hands, and he put that to good use against Rage, who seemed to be only using his hands now. Trent raised his right leg to perform an axe kick, but Rage stepped forward. Obviously he knew this one. Well, he won’t know this variation. As Trent’s leg hit Rage’s shoulder, instead of the entire kick being neutralized by the shortened distance between the opponents, Trent used the force as a fulcrum to propel his body upward. Springing up using the toes of his left foot, he smashed his knee full-force into Rage’s face. Nope, he didn’t see it coming. Rage flew off the stump, landing on his back. Trent flew after him, landing with his knee at Rage’s throat.

“Yield,” he commanded. Rage spat blood in Trent’s face and blasted him into the air, whipping out a black sword crackling with energy. Whipping it around his body in several dangerous arcs, he brought it crashing down on Trent’s head, splitting him in two. Or at least, that was what he intended.

“Enough!” Joy screamed, black energy crackling from her fingers. The blade shattered under her influence, mere millimeters away from Trent’s head. Stomping over to her brother, she slapped him across the face. Joy’s eyes cast a harsh pink glow as the blazed away, and as Rage blinked, his four red eyes were replaced by two, quickly fading to the normal Raven blue. Her voice a low growl, Joy lifted her brother by his silver cape clasp.

“What are you trying to do, anyway? I brought him here, and you’re not going to kill him. Do you want Raven to have to come straighten you out?” As she verbally blasted Rage, Trent picked himself up and flicked the pine needles off his shirt. Running his fingers through his hair, his hand came away with blood on it. Noticing this, Joy dropped Rage and scampered over to Trent.

“Here, let me take care of that,” she said in her normal, soothing voice, her eyes also their usual blue. Her hand lit up with a purple aura, and she touched Trent’s wound. A shadow of the gash briefly appeared on her face, then both shadow and original disappeared. “There, much better.”

“Thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He stalked over to where Rage stood, now only a sheepish teenager in a suit of armor. Trent grabbed him by the shoulders. “What’s the idea, anyway?”

“Hey, take it easy, man,” the boy choked out. His voice was no longer shrill, but it still had high overtones.

“Take it easy? TAKE IT EASY? YOU shot at me! You attacked me, when I’d never done anything to you at all. You’re the one who demanded I fight. You’re the one who wouldn’t yield when I fairly beat you!” Rage’s gaze remained fixed on the ground.

“Ok, so I was a bit out of hand. I’m sorry. It’s hard to resist it.”

“Bit out of hand,” Trent snorted, turning away from the pathetic figure. Courage laid her hand on Rage’s shoulder.

“Don’t be too hard on Brother Rage. Like he said, he can’t really help it. He’s touched by Trigon’s stain more than most of us…though we all have it,” she added, glaring at her sister. Joy grabbed Trent’s arm again.

“Well, what did you want me to do? He’s always acting out. Kill is such a friendly word to him. It’s not like he’s a master of self-control.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” the boy asked. “I’m not some helpless puppet. I didn’t say I couldn’t help it. I said it was hard to. I’m sorry, Trent. My actions were uncalled for.”

“You got that right,” Trent muttered. “Now, I need to get back home, so one of you had better show me. And by one of you, I don’t mean you, Rage.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not allowed to go to the gate – Sister Knowledge’s orders. I can come with you to the end of the quarter, though.”

“Great,” Trent said, the sarcasm dripping from his tongue. This seemed to be lost on Rage, who immediately brightened up.

“You don’t need to worry about Sister Knowledge,” he chatted jovially, dropping in beside Trent. “She’s grumpy sometimes, but I don’t think she’s around. She doesn’t like me much, because she says I’m just negative. That’s not really true. It’s just that I tend to leave most of the happiness up to Joy. Is that really an issue?” He asked the question as if Trent would have an answer. Not receiving one, he started up again. “I’m really the youngest here. I’ve been here about seven years, but everyone else has been around since Raven was a kid. Sister Knowledge kind of established herself as the head when Raven’s not around. I don’t think she’s been in here for five years.”

“She hasn’t,” chimed in Joy. “It’s not that she’s shirked on the upkeep, but she hasn’t put in a personal appearance in ages. And we never go out, except that sometimes Sister Knowledge goes toward the surface when Raven’s meditating. I think Brother Rage might too…” she glanced over at her brother, who tried hard to remove the guilty smile from his face.

“Ok, you two,” Courage said, turning right at a fork in the path. “Don’t get Trent lost. And Brother Rage…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t go into Sister Knowledge’s library if you know what’s good for you.” With this, she left them. It didn’t take long for Rage to start talking again.

“It’s not like you can blame me. I mean, it’s fun staying here and hunting and all that, but sometimes don’t you feel like you want something more?”

“No,” Joy responded frankly.

“Well, you wouldn’t. But I do. It’s not like I’ve done anything bad. I mean, I didn’t kill anybody…any human.”

“Uh-huh. I don’t want to know.” And so it continued, Trent simply shaking his head in disbelief.

Brother and sister had been going back and forth for a few minutes when the world changed again. This time, they found themselves standing on a stone bridge, leading to a giant shining building. The towers stretched twenty stories, their reflections shimmering in the golden lake surrounding the structure.

“Sister Knowledge’s library. Well. This is where I must leave you,” Rage said, turning to go back. “Take it easy guys.” Trent snorted as Rage left. He turned to Joy.

“Is he always like that?”

“Talkative, or angry.”

“Either.”

“Uh,” Joy rubbed her chin in imitation of Trent’s usual gesture. “Yep. That’s normal for him.”

“Wow. I’d hate to have to live with him.” Joy giggled.

“He’d hate to have to live with you! He has a little castle back there a ways, but it’s really Sister Courage who takes care of that quarter.”

“Doesn’t she get sick of him?”

“None of us hate really each other. Except Sister Knowledge…I can’t speak for her. My brother does have his good qualities, anger not withstanding.”

“I’d never guess what those could be.”

“Oh, he’s fiercely loyal. If he sees anything bothering anyone he considers himself to hold allegiance to, he’ll tear it apart.”

“Seems like he’d be quite effective at that.” Joy giggled some more, as Trent pushed open the huge door to the library. “Any special rules in here?”

“Yeah. Let’s run downstairs to the portal and not deal with Sister Knowledge.” She pointed to a door, and they both dashed through and down the staircase. “It’s at the end of this passage.” Suddenly, she skidded to a halt, stopping inches from a woman in a yellow cloak. “Eh, hello, Sister Knowledge.”

* * *

George was standing in the middle of nowhere. All he could see around him was white nothing. White, white, white, extending to infinity. That and the chopping block in front of him. He swung the ax at the log in a perpetual rhythm. Lift, swing, chunk. Lift, swing, chunk. Chop, chop, chop, extending to infinity. The pile of logs grew. Lift, swing, chunk. Lift, swing, chunk. A voice called out to him from the mist.

“Citizen! Citizen George!” The voice pronounced his name with a soft “g.” Uh! He hated that.

Lift, swing, chunk. Lift, swing, chunk.

“How goes the work, Citizen George?”

“Quite well, Comrade Dmitri. Quite well,” he heard himself answer.

Lift, swing, chunk. Lift, swing, chunk…extending to infinity.

“We have more heads for you, Citizen. Our Lady Guillotine must be fed!”

Lift, swing, chunk. Lift, swing, chunk.

George looked down at the log he was chopping. It vaguely resembled Joe Gripes’s head. The sap that flowed from it vaguely resembled blood.

Lift, swing, chunk. Lift, swing, chunk.

He couldn’t stop the cycle. He couldn’t stop the cycle. He couldn’t stop…

Lift, swing, chunk. Lift, swing, chunk.

“I’ve come to give you what you always wanted.”

Chop, chop, chop, extending to infinity, extending to infinity.

“I’ve come to give you what you always wanted.”

Lift, swing, chunk. Lift, swing, chunk.

“I’ve come to give you what you always wanted.”

George groaned, and clamped his eyes shut.

Lift, swing, chunk. Lift, swing, chunk.

It was a head now.

Lift, swing, chunk. Lift, swing, chunk.

The blood flowed out onto his hands. The blood flowed out onto his legs. The blood flowed out onto his feet. The blood flowed out onto the ground. The blood covered the world, and all was red.

Red, red, red, extending to infinity.

George tried to scream.

Scream, scream, scream, extending to infinity.

George tried to run.

Run, run, run, extending to infinity.

But he could only swing the ax.

Swing, swing, swing. Chop, chop, chop. Blood, blood, blood.

He tried to open his eyes, and they would not.

Eyes, eyes, eyes. Head, head, head. Blind, blind, blind.

George screamed as loudly as he could, but no sound came out.

Scream, scream, scream. Sound, sound, sound.

The world contracted and expanded before him.

Contract, contract, contract. Expand, expand, expand.

The echo assaulted his mind.

Echo, echo, echo. Mind, mind, mind.

The echo assaulted his ears.

Echo, echo, echo. Ears, ears, ears.



George’s eyes snapped open. The world was solid and normal. He was laying on his back in a machine shop of some kind. Or a clock tower. Yes, it must be a clock tower. He could make out gears in the distance, and hear the constant “click, swoosh, click, swoosh.” That noise must have been what he heard in his dream. He sat up slowly, holding his head. He looked around him. There were the bells, there the cogs, and there the springs. He couldn’t see a staircase anywhere, nor a ladder. George wrapped his hand around the pole next to him. No, it wasn’t a pole at all. It was an ax, its blade stained with red. He fell on his knees, wretchedly and violently sick. When the tremors had subsided, he spat and stood up again.

“Hello, George,” a cold, even voice spoke. “I’ve come to give you what you’ve always wanted.” George spun around, wildly searching for the source of the voice. There! On the wall hung a mask, divided top to bottom into two sections. One side was black and blank, the other was orange, and held a single eyehole. Behind the hole, a red light glittered.

* * *

“Hello, Sister Joy. Been in trouble, again, I see.”

“In trouble, Sister Knowledge? No-o-o-o, not me.”

“Then what’s this blood on your pants? You’ve gone and ruined a fine pair! And who is this I see behind you, Sister? Is it not Trent Touren, the bounty-hunter?”

“I’m not a bounty-hunter, ma’am,” Trent interjected.

“Be silent! You will answer only if I ask you!” Knowledge spat, her eyes flaring bright yellow behind her thick, round glasses. “Now, Sister. What was it you needed from me?”

“Needed?” By this point, Joy was completely baffled. “Uh…”

“Excuse me…” Trent hazarded. “I was hoping to go home.” Sister Knowledge turned on him.

“And what were you doing in Raven’s mind?”

“Raven’s mind?” Trent was completely blown away. “This is Raven’s mind?”

“Well, of course, you goose!” Joy chimed in. “You mean all this time, I’ve been talking to you and you didn’t understand?”

“I think we’d better talk this over, upstairs.” Sister Knowledge led the way back up the staircase. In a room filled with books, she took a seat. Seeing no chairs for either himself or Joy, Trent stood, waiting for an explanation.

“So. As you now know, this is Raven’s mind. Or at least a physical representation of it. We, my sisters and I, are all different parts of Raven’s personality. Joy, Courage, Sorrow, Sloth, Rage, and Knowledge.”

“No Sister Love?”

“Love isn’t an emotion.”

“Neither is Knowledge.”

“True. But love is a verb, and knowledge is a noun. I am not Raven’s knowledge or her wisdom. I am an embodiment of the scholarly attitude that promotes the gaining of Knowledge. I believe it is out of respect that my sisters title me so…” Her menacing glance at Joy gave Trent other ideas, but he kept his mouth closed. “We are not shallow beings. We all have many emotions and traits, but each of us is characterized by the one that we bear in our names. Any questions?”

“Yes. If this is Raven’s mind, doesn’t she know where we are and what we’re doing?” Knowledge sighed.

“No. You know that humans use an incredibly small part of their brain. Ten percent in most, perhaps as much as twenty in the most intelligent. Our world comprises some of that unused space in Raven’s mind. Most people don’t have a self-aware sub-conscious, but Raven is unique in many ways. Now, you must be on your way. Down that staircase, you will find the gate out. Joy? You will remain here.” Trent glanced at Joy, who placed her hand on a sheet of paper resting on one of the many tables. There was a poem written on it, but her hand obscured all the words except, When I look into your mirror. Trent nodded, and turned to leave.

“Sleep well, Trent!” Joy called out. Trent chuckled when he remembered it was probably five in the morning. This thought was immediately followed by the memory of his dream. Sadly, he murmured,

“I haven’t slept well in years.”

“Oh, I can fix that,” shouted Joy, dashing to him. She placed her hand on his forehead, and sent a wave of black energy into his head. “There. You should have no trouble sleeping now.”

“Thanks,” Trent said, as he descended the stair.

When Trent stepped through the portal, the world click off. It just went black.

“Weird.” weird, weird, weird. His voice echoes strangely, bending back on itself, running backwards and forwards. Suddenly, the normal world just appeared. He slammed down on the floor with a heavy smack.

“Oof!” Trent picked himself up, and lay down on the bed. Though there was still no mattress, Trent immediately fell into the soundest sleep he’d had in years.

* * *

Knowledge turned to her sister, her eyes flaring an ominous yellow.

“You are in so much trouble, young lady.”

There you go! Merry Christmas!

[Rae]

That was great and welll worth the wait!

[Matt A]

Too true, too true.

Man, Raven is so much more messed-up than I imagined!

Oh, and SLADE'S BACK!!!!! YEAH!!!!!

[ShadowOfAGhost]

Brother Rage? This doesn't make much sense, considering the male's are stereotypicly percieved as more agressive than females. (unless you count the Amazons)

either way, an excelent chapter! It's obvious how much time you put into it! Kudos and good work!

[Kregor8]

Yep. Brother Rage. Why doesn't it make much sense? I've always wanted to do that - drop a male Raven in somewhere. I can't remember what tipped me off to the idea. N-E-way, I promised that I'd come back with some questions to help out on feedback. Here are a few. Answer in full sentences, if you can. :evil:

1) How many consecutive storylines have you counted so far? Which one is your favorite, and why?
2) Which of the Raven siblings is your favorite? Who do you think is most powerful? Who do you think is in charge? (I have the answers to this, but I might not tell you for a while)
3) George and Samantha. Huh? Who's good or bad? (Either could be one, or both could the same. Again, I'm not answering). What about Sam? Too X-Men?
4) What's your take on this?

“Shut up! Are we not Raven? Your friends made you weak. Dependant!"
Ehehehehehe. Did you understand it or not?
5) Just as a bit of a contest, can you catch the references to various pop culture that I made? There's at least two fantasy allusions, and one to heavy metal, though it could count as two. These I'll tell you when I post the next chapter.

Don't expect the next chapter for a while, because like I said a while ago, there's stuff going down that makes it hard to write. I'll be writing it starting tonight, but it will take a while. And it's going to be large - so maybe I'll be able to post it in two parts.

Ok. That's it for now.
7<regor
Ps. Don't take me as too harsh, Crowgirl. I was being a bit over the top. You're supposed to laugh...:D

[Crowgirl]

Actually, I just haven't checked this thread in a while. And I did laugh. But did I save you from double posting or not? You should be extremely thankful.

Oh well, THAT CHAPTER WAS AWESOME!!!! Adult Raven head is really messed up, isn't it? I like the line you put in your last post. That's such a good line. Can I borrow it?

Slade's back. Uh-oh...

And I'll make you read it all...
No need, no need. You've left too many cliffhangers for us that we have to find out the answers to...

Okay, so I edited it a little....

Can't wait for more!!

[Matt A]

Here's my answers to your questions:

1. I've come across four seperate plot threads at some point or another. I'd say that the George/Sam one is the best so far, as the teen romance stuff is quite touching.
2. I quite like Sister Joy, as wacko kids like that are fun to be around. Sister Knowledge is definitely in charge, though.
3. I'd say that George and Sam are both good on the whole, but with this being a neo-noir story anything's possible...anyway, the inclusion of Sam's powers is logically consistent at the very least.
4. I think I understand what that line is refering to. If I'm right, then it's bad news...
5. I haven't spotted any of the references yet. I'll have a proper look when I have more time.

[ShadowOfAGhost]

What is this, English Class? Just kidding. Questions like these are fun, Though I only have time to say this right now. The heavy Metal refrence is Personal Jesus by Marilyn Manson (one of the songs I typicly listen to while I write a fight scene)

I'll edit my post later on to include answers to the other questions, as right now I'm short on time.
Until then, Rock on!:cool:

1. Story Lines: that depends if you count ones that are inter-twined with other characters. if yes, than I would say 7, though some of them might have just added in for effect. (ie: Joy and knowledge)

2A. My favorite is courage because of her "I don't give a damn" sort of attitude, that and my favorite color is green.

2B. I would say that there is no clear cut strongest sibling, as they all have there own personal strengths and weaknesses.

2C. As for the leader, I would say the same thing, except for this: Though knowledge seems to take the lead, there must be a reason that you are asking us this despite personal intrest, so I would say (oddly enough) Joy. The facts I base this on is 1) No one argues with her, they get upset, but they don't lash out. (Joy simply invites herself in to Courage's home for a meal, and curage is upset,but not angry). 2) she is the one that is able to pull him into to the mirror and her relm is the one he starts out in. 3) She remembers historical details about Raven's mind. 4) she knows everything about everyone.

3. George is good, Samantha starts out as good, but is ultimatly being driven by madness into corruption and will turn out to be evil.

4. Raven is developing feelings for him, and is trying to fend them off because she feels that they will make her weak.

[Sproxie]

1) How many consecutive storylines have you counted so far? Which one is your favorite, and why?
2) Which of the Raven siblings is your favorite? Who do you think is most powerful? Who do you think is in charge? (I have the answers to this, but I might not tell you for a while)
3) George and Samantha. Huh? Who's good or bad? (Either could be one, or both could the same. Again, I'm not answering). What about Sam? Too X-Men?
4) What's your take on this?



Originally Posted by Me, but the story version is a bit different

“Shut up! Are we not Raven? Your friends made you weak. Dependant!"

Ehehehehehe. Did you understand it or not?
5) Just as a bit of a contest, can you catch the references to various pop culture that I made? There's at least two fantasy allusions, and one to heavy metal, though it could count as two. These I'll tell you when I post the next chapter.

1. About 4 plots or so, my favorite ones are in Raven's Head, I found it exciting to see which emotion they would meet next, and what would happen.
2. My favorite Raven sibling is Brother Rage, I don't know why, and I think Knowledge is in charge. (but you said in the story she was....

Sister Knowledge kind of established herself as the head when Raven’s not around. I don’t think she’s been in here for five years.”
3. I think Samantha is bad. Or both of them..... I'm not sure. Too X-men? :confused:
4. I think I understood it. (am I suppoced to explain what I think it means?) :sweat:
5. I have NO clue what that question means. (probably cause it's late)

I LOVED the chapter. I was really hoping/expecting Raven to enter her mind to 'smack Rage around a bit' and then find Trent in there. O well, I think this was one of my most favorite Christmas gifts! :anime:

[Kregor8]

The heavy Metal refrence is Personal Jesus by Marilyn MansonMmm, nope. Nice try though. I'm not really familliar with Manson, though I do like industrial music. No, my reference is a little more classic than that. But not too far back...
Here's a hint for you cheaters
Check my rescent post-scripts for the band name. It's a rather recent post...
While I'm on the subject of metal, everyone who can should check out Extol's newest album, "Synergy." They're a Swedish thrash group that totally kicks all the new-American metal to pieces. (They used to be death metal, but their newest stuff is the best) Or, that's my opinion.

I'm adding one thing to that list I forgot. I also alluded to a C. Dickens in one part. Can you spot that? Ehehehe, this is fun. I had kind of assumed that one of them would be pretty obvious, but I also thought everyone would catch the Dune thing. Oh well. Maybe I'm more well-read than I thought.

I like the line you put in your last post. That's such a good line. Can I borrow it?
Which one? The "We are Raven" one? Sure, I don't really care. Since you asked...:D What are you borrowing it for, anyway? Bumper stickers, I hope.
My favorite Raven sibling is Brother Rage Yay! I was hoping somebody would like him. He's pretty cool. Frankly, I haven't decided who's my favorite yet...and I'm the one who's made them up. Or him, at least. And I've given the rest of them way more character and stuff.

(am I suppoced to explain what I think it means?)
If you're brave enough. I put the question there because I wondered if anyone was thinking along the same lines as I am.

I quite like Sister Joy, as wacko kids like that are fun to be around.
Yeah, I think so too (about the kids-like-that thing). Sister Joy is kind of a composit of four or five girls I know. And not all of them are young either. But some are.

Oh yeah. In this story, as in real life, when someone says something, they are describing things as they see them (unless he or she happens to be lying). That doesn't mean they are necessarilly right. I just wanted to make that clear, in case anyone forgot.
Ok, that's it for now.
7<regor

[Lord Welshi]

1)Lots, i've probably spotted more than there actually are. *counts on fingers* I think about 6 or 7, but then they may not be actual storylines. Definitely four. My favourite so far is the whole intrigue/murder/slades back in action thing. What are these blueprints, and what does slade want with them?
2)I like Sister Joy, she's funny. I think she may be the most powerful, too: she seems to go wherever she wants, puts a halt to Brother Rage, ad they do say Joy is one of the strongest emotions you can experience...
3)Both are good, probably. They do th wrong things, but with good intentions. I think they may end up like Terra: good, turn a little evil, but stray back to the path of righteousness, it'll just take them a while to get there. Sam's outburst isn't an indication of evil, you present her well enough to try to describe an experience impossible to replicate: the sudden manifestation of super powers would be enough to drive anyone mad for a while. Liking this.
4) Cool.
5)Didn't notice anything, too busy enjoying your work to bother trying to pick them out. C.Dickens, eh? Hope it's not the incredibly boring book that i read...

OVerall, an excellent chapter. As i mentioned with Sam on point 3, you have portrayed this characters well enough that we can get an idea of their emotional state and peer into their minds (literally in one case), and you describe something that no one has ever felt with what feels like enough experience to portray it as something that could happen to anyone, and that IS how we would feel. Excellent, it takes a writer of immense talent to pull that off.

Lord Welshi

[rrarbecy]

Slade got to George? That spells trouble. I loooove foreshadowing.

[Lady Lightfire]

Here is 1 more post for you!
And to answer your questions.......

Around four. I might have missed a few. I like the Slade being back thing.
My favorite is Sister Courage. No particular reason, I just liked her best. As to who is most powerful, I have no idea. And I think Sister Knowledge is in charge.
I think George and Samantha are both good. It is a possibility that they are evil, but I think they will be good in the end if not the entire time.
I think I know what she is saying. Is it she feels she does not need them, she can do it herself, to need others is to be weak? AHH! Now I want to know!
I didn't notice anything right away, but if I read over it again I might find them.
I love your writing; I love the way you describe the characters. This is a great peice of writing.

Hey, somewhere in here you said something about reading A Tale of Two Cities? This is completely irrelivant, but I'm reading Great Expectations for school. (which I should be doing now, instead of typing this)

[DKH]

I take it that the market is good for Raven stories

Good, because I've been contemplating a story for a week now, all I need is a title.

That's ok: I got my lucky hat, a 2-liter jug of coke, and all night. I'm pretty sure I'll have something by tonight or tomorrow.

Good story by the way.

[Kregor8]

Ok, the time has come for me to reveal what the references in the last chapter were.
1) "Welcome Home (Sanatarium)" by Metallica. The line "Kill is such a friendly word is taken from that song. Also, in the next few lines, they go on to talk about being "masters" and "puppets." (Master of Puppets is the best Metallica album ever).
2) "See those two hills? Her house is between those hills." In 1988 or so, BBC did a version of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe." That's one of the White Witch's lines to Edmund (but she says "my house," not "her house.") I read the book last week, and her line is a bit different, but it's dirrect from the movie/tv thing.
3) The other fantasy reference is to Shadow Moon, by George Lucas. But you wouldn't have known that, because in the process of writing the chapter, I edited the reference out. Oops!
4) The Dickens refernce was the "Heads for Lady Guilotine" line, which comes from Tale of Two Cities. Congrats, Lady Lightfire! You came closest on that. You're reading Great Expectations? Cool. Then you should be able to spot the refernce to that book in this chapter.
Oh yeah. Shadow, you know how I said the chapter would come out on Tuesday? I changed my mind. I edited what I had and am posting it now. I figure you would rather have the chapters smaller. (This is still 4,500 words, but my last one was 8,000+. That intimidates some people). Ok, after the chapter, I'll put a few questions.
Welcome DKH. Answer the questions, if you get a chance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Nine
In a cold, stark room, two bodies lay side by side. The strong smell of transmission fluid nearly overpowered the pungent stench of sterility. The two bodies, aside from their individual wounds, were identical. They could have been twins – except these corpses, when they could have been said to be alive, never had mothers. Never had fathers. Never had siblings. Never had life at all, really. Subject A and subject B were all they were now – useless piles of junk. Once, they had been robots. Each with his own mission and calling, they had served their master till their usefulness had run out. They still bore his mark on their belts – S. These automatons were well known to the entity who stood in contemplative silence, examining them with a critical eye. He noted the S belt, the orange and black color scheme, the weapons related attachments, the lack of actual weapons. One particular oddity seemed to catch his eye. He leaned closer to the body, moving the arm so he could see better. He looked at the other robot, shook his head, then looked again. Finally, he spoke.

“These wounds should hardly have been fatal. Look at this. This one here – we can presume that Touren shot this one (damn good shot, too) – has a wound to the head, but the brain-core is armored. The bullet shouldn’t have penetrated – nor did it. And the chest wound – that’s not so bad either. True, that shot put a hole in an oil line, but these bots are supposed to be able to repair minor things like that themselves. We could almost excuse this one, though. The head wound could have damaged the self-repair enough that the oil leak eventually killed it. But look at this.” He pointed to the second robot. “He’s only been shot in the arm and the chest. Not the head. Not even the same hole in the oil line. Yet, as soon as the bullet connected, he was as dead as this other, and we’re having to assume it took at least four hours for that one to die.” He looked up at the man he had been speaking to. The speaker’s companion was a old, spidery man. His limbs were thin, his body gaunt. His wrinkled forehead ran up quite a ways before it met what was left of a shock of white hair. His eyes, however, still held a fire in them, and his voice was strong.

“You have any ideas?” he asked his companion.

“None that satisfy me, Dr. Speech.”

“Well, Victor, that’s what you have me for.” Dr. Speech turned to a computer and typed several commands. “This is what I was able to extract from the brain of the first. I haven’t had time to go through the second yet, but I’ll assume it’s similar.” Lines of code scrolled down the screen, as Dr. Speech searched for what he wanted.

“Here. See this line? This is a…how familiar are you with robot programming on this level?”

“I’m half robot, myself, Doctor.”

“Oh, that’s right. I apologize.”

“It’s fine. Looks like a termination code.”

“Indeed it does. This is only a partial transcript – security was tight getting in. As far as I can gather, it says that if any damage is done to the robot, to self-terminate and wipe blocks g3x2.0010 through g3x2.7206. That’s a substantial memory block. The destruction seems to be physical – haven’t been able to recover those blocks. I have to assume that those blocks contained mission information or contact data. Like I said, I haven’t been able to recover them, but if I make any progress, I’ll let you know.”

“Don’t spend your time on it, Doc. You’ve got more important work you can do. Besides, this isn’t really our job. The normal police can handle the prison break.” Victor Stone turned to leave.

“What about the origin of the robots? There are obviously more – at least three, if the reports from the jail are accurate – and if we find them, we find that boy, George Pents.”

“Now that’s something I’ve got that under control. I’ve come across these bots before.”

“Back during your Teen Titans days?”

“Yeah,” Victor sighed. “During my Titans days.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’ve got a friend to check up with. I’ll be in contact with you.”

With that, Victor “Cyborg” Stone left the building.

* * *

A dark landscape spread out before her. Pieces of rock – some large enough to stand on, some only pebbles – floated in midair. The world was lit by a permanently eclipsed sun and a smattering of red stars. This was the dreamscape. The place where she connected with her subconscious. From here, she could get to all the other realms of her mind, if she remembered the path. If she had come here without the aid of the mirror, as indeed she had, there must be some incredible disturbance.

Flagstones assembled themselves before her feet as Raven wandered toward the first of the gates. She would go see Sister Sorrow first. She was “oldest” and usually knew what was going on, though she tended to take a passive role in things. It wasn’t so odd, she thought, that Joy stayed young, Sorrow grew old. It wasn’t just time that aged people – and as purely mental creations, her little family wasn’t even subject to time’s wear and tear. Moving mechanically along the path, Raven failed to notice the figure who sat on the top of the wall that now ran alongside her path. Passing blindly by, she spun around in surprise when the girl addressed her.

“Hi, Sister True. Come to smack people back in line?”

“Oh, hello Sister Joy,” Raven answered as her pink-themed sister came aside her. “Who do I need to put back in line?”

“Oh, I really shouldn’t say. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Have it your way,” Raven murmured. “Have you seen Sister Sorrow in a while?”

“No, she keeps to her little mansion most of the time. Sister Courage is the only one who ever comes to see me, anymore.”

“I’m sure you go visit the rest of them often enough.”

“Oh, of course. They’re nice about that.” She hesitated a moment, before adding. “Most of them.”

“Most?” Raven asked, quizzically as they entered the gate to Sister Sorrow’s realm. Immediately, Joy and Raven were assaulted by the constant, bitter wind that tore through the frigid valleys. One particularly vicious gust caught Joy’s hood and tore it off her head. She quickly snapped it up again, and held it there, but not quickly enough for Raven to miss the substantial cut on her left cheek.

“Sister Joy! What happened to you? That looks horrible.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Joy said, smiling embarrassedly. “I gave better than I got.”

“Joy, tell me what happened.” Joy did not answer. Raven wasn’t pleased, but she let it go. If Joy had gotten injured and hadn’t healed herself, it could only be to leave an impression on someone. And who could that someone be, but her? Nobody. She didn’t know what impression Joy wanted her to have, or what end having that impression might serve. So, the safest thing was to have no impression. If Joy was being sly, she obviously wasn’t going to talk about it. When Joy decided that she wasn’t going to talk about something, Trigon himself couldn’t drag it out of her. Together, they set out toward Sister Sorrow’s hilltop dwelling.

* * *

It had been a wretched night. It still was a wretched night, though night would soon be over. Then, it would begin to be a wretched day. Oh, what a miserable world! Samantha thought, as she attempted to rise from the floor where she lay. She was stiff, she was cold, she was hungry, and she was angry. Her clothes were strangely burned – like the mannequin she had seen struck “by lightning” in the science museum. Then, with a groan, she remembered. The night, the electricity, the shadow that had almost touched her. The sound of a live current, the smell of ozone. The horrible, horrible pain of not being able to control her own actions.

With a great effort, Sam wrenched herself off the floor. Every muscle in her body cried out in protest, but now her only thought was to find some food. She walked slowly over to the door, reached for the handle, and found herself unable to turn it. Her little episode last night must have fused the metal knob solid. She sat back down and stared at the door for what seemed an eternity. George wouldn’t sit here like this. If George were here, he’d kiss me and say, “Sam, things aren’t as bad as they seem.” Then, he’d break the door down, and we’d go to breakfast together. She did not cry. Samantha had no more tears to shed.

Once again, Sam dragged herself to the door. It was burnt and charred; it should break easily. She swung at it with all the force she could muster. Some scorched pieces flew off the door and she got soot on her knuckles, but that was it. Sam kicked the door. Nothing. She flew at it in a rage, a flurry of flailing arms and legs, hoping that a sheer frenzy would demolish the barrier. No such luck. Sam clenched her teeth in frustration and raised both hands, open palm, to strike the door.

With a fearful noise, jagged bolts flew from Sam’s fingertips, decimating what remained of the door. She yelped and sucked her fingertips. How they smarted. If George were here, he’d understand. He’d softly rub my fingers until they didn’t hurt anymore. But, it was no use thinking about that now. She needed to find some food.

* * *

Together, Raven and Joy climbed the steps to Sister Sorrow’s house. Set high in the mountains, it was a formidable structure – half Scottish castle, half Gothic cathedral. Access was surprisingly easy, considering the formidable landscape of pit-falls, peaks, and fissures. Sister Sorrow maintained, through great force of mind, a substantial staircase from her palace to the main road that inter-linked all of Raven’s mindscape.

The immense wooden doors standing before her, Joy did the logical thing. She reached for the great iron knocker set in the center of the left door. Shaped like a giant raven’s head, the knocker was a decidedly disturbing piece of hardware. From the almost too-sharp-to-touch beak to the blazing ruby eyes, it spoke of danger and torment. Raven, coming up directly behind her “sister,” simply shook her head at Joy’s simplicity. The knocker, the hinges, and the lock itself were all frozen solid. Maybe she didn’t come up here as much as she said she did, if she didn’t know that. Stepping past the struggling girl, Raven simply formed a portal and stepped through the door, much as Trent would have done. Seeing that she was making no progress, Joy attempted to follow her sister, but by now her hands had frozen to the dreadful knocker.

“Stupid, ugly thing. Why does she even have you here anyway?” Joy mumbled to the raven’s head. She then teleported herself to Raven’s side.

“Well, Sister True, what did you come to ask her?” Joy whispered, rubbing her burned hands on her cloak. The vast halls produced such a frightful echo that she might as well have shouted, for all the noise she made. Somehow, though, Joy felt that respect was needed here. The aura of this place seemed completely alien to her. It must be the sad. She could remember being sad once – when Raven had been taken from her mother as a young child. There had been no glint of happiness in that event. Yes, then she had been sad. It had been awful. To Joy, being sad was the worst sickness imaginable.

“If I came to ask her, why would I tell you?” Raven asked, her voice at normal level. Joy didn’t answer. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. Instead, she tilted her head backwards, examining the remote arches of the vaulted ceiling. Such a cold, austere place. She much preferred Sister Courage’s cabin, or her own tree house. Even Brother Rage’s little fortress in the woods was more pleasant than this place. She glanced at Raven. Why does she like this place so much? It’s dreadful. I should have stayed at home. Raven started down the hall, towards the antechamber.

“Uh, Sister True?” She turned.

“Yes?”

“I’m…uh…going home now.”

“Mmm…”

“If that’s ok with you, of course.”

“Oh, yes, fine. Run along. I probably won’t see you again for a while.” A relieved look spreading over her face, Joy disappeared from the hall. Raven smiled sadly; she could imagine Joy running pell-mell down the staircase, just to get away from here. Ah well. It doesn’t change my visit any, Raven thought as she pushed open the door to the great hall.

As usual, it was deserted. There was a monstrous fireplace. Cold. A enormous table. Empty. A tremendous vat for wine or similar drink. Dry. Such was the nature of this place. Everything cold and dead. Raven almost expected to see a rotted bridal cake in the middle of the table, covered in cobwebs and falling to pieces. But no cake existed. She walked the length of the hall and pulled open a small door. This was the entrance to Sister Sorrow’s personal quarters. She shut the door behind her.

Here, the walls were lined with beautiful cherry panels. Here, the fireplace contained a cheery little blaze. Here, the table, though diminutive when compared to the one outside the chamber, was stocked with many kinds of food. Here, Raven was not alone. At the far side of the room, next to the fireplace, an old woman sat in a regal chair, writing on a parchment in the flowing script of a strange language.

“Hello, Sister True,” the old woman said without looking up or breaking off. “I see you’ve come at last.” Though her appearance was aged, her voice was strong, and held that quality in it that is peculiar to rulers – or prophets. Raven crossed the room quickly, picking up a piece of fruit as she passed the table.

“Hello, Sister Sorrow. At last, you say?” She bit into the fruit. It tasted like dirt. Surprised, Raven examined the specimen closely. It looked like a perfect apple. She should have expected. Tossing the apple into the fire, she devoted her attention to this most aged of her “sisters.”

“Yes, indeed,” she said, setting aside her pen and book. As she looked up, Raven couldn’t help notice her worn appearance. Sister Sorrow was old, but not grandmotherly to any extent. Her age was the age brought on by many long, hard years. Her face was lined with the innumerable troubles that had come upon Raven in her entire thirty-one years. If this is how she looks now, just think what she’ll look like by the time I’m sixty, Raven mused to herself. She didn’t spend any more time on the fact, though, for Sister Sorrow was speaking again.

“I’m sure you know why I brought you here.” Raven was completely befuddled. She had come to Sister Sorrow to find out just that, and now she was expected to know? “I am sorry. It is obvious from your expression that you haven’t the faintest idea. Allow me to show you.”

Sister Sorrow turned toward the fire, gesturing slightly with her fingers. The flames twisted into shapes under her influence, bending into letters of the foreign script that Sorrow spent her time with.

“Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos,” she chanted softly. Slowly, the fire gathered itself into one column, then it splashed out, taking the vague shape of a person. “You must locate the girl.”

“What girl?”

“The electric one. The one who burned you. The one you saved from an alien two days ago.” The fire condensed and became a burning photograph of Samantha Gripes.

“Whatever for?”

“You must train her to use her powers.” Raven became frustrated.

“Why? What’s she to me? Who am I, Arella?”

“Just as Mother used to take in hopeless people and help them, you must find this girl and train her.”

“I remember all the horrid people she used to find. It was a bad occupation for a woman with a young daughter.”

“You have not children.”

“I have all of you.” Sister Sorrow threw back her head in a powerful laugh.

“We are your sisters, not your daughters! We are you, not your progeny. Remember that.” Raven sighed.

“All right, I’ll remember. I still see no reason for me to waste my life training some hopeless young girl.”

“Remember. You were once a little girl who couldn’t control her powers. Remember how terrified you were; how angry you were. And the Titans took you in and helped you learn. Now, you must do the same for this girl.” Raven threw up her arms in exasperation.

“I’m in the middle of a crisis! My agent failed his mission, and now Slade’s out there and he has heaven knows what deadly devices and plans and…”

“There is time and opportunity to do both. Train the girl and defeat Slade.”

“What if I don’t train her?” Sorrow shot Raven a withering look. “I’m serious. What if I just don’t listen to you?” Sorrow sighed and continued.

“If you do not train the girl, she will die. Your mission…”

Raven heard a siren blaring in the distance. Suddenly, everything disappeared, and she was back in her room at the tower. She screamed in frustration.

“And just when I was going to finally learn something! By now, Trent’s probably been awakened by this racket.” She pulled on a heavy black bathrobe and stomped down the hall to the control room. Just before she got there, the alarm shut off. Trent must have gotten it, she reasoned, as she stepped inside the control room. But no, Trent was nowhere to be found. She glanced at the cameras. She saw a dark figure coming up the hallway. Strange, the lights were on for him. Raven spoke over the intercom to her guest.

“Who’s there?”

“Raven? This is Cy. I wondered if you’d be here.”

Great, more company. Out loud, she said, “Yeah, I’m here. What do you need?”

“I’ve come to help.”

“I don’t need any help.”

“Well, your getting’ it. So wait up there for me.”

“I’ll be in the common room.” She shut off the lights in the room and made her way to the still dark common room. It wasn’t long before Cyborg arrived, the lights fading on as he entered.

“Shut that light off. They’ll see us from the city.”

“Oh, nobody knows you’re back. I forgot,” he said, shutting off the lights again.

“Thanks. For now, I’m just Jenny McFrae. And don’t ever mistake that. I’ve spent years developing my cover.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. When was the last time I blew somebody’s cover?” She just gave him a baleful look.

“You said you came to give some help.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Well, I kept thinking about what you said about Slade. If Slade really was back, you’d need some help to take him.”

“And?”

“Slade’s back.” Raven didn’t react.

“What makes you certain?”

“These,” Cyborg said, handing several photos to Raven. “These were taken on scene and in the workshop. Slade’s robots.”

“Yes, I see. I’m reasonably sure that one of Slade’s robots burned down Trent Touren’s house.”

“Trent Touren’s house burned?”

“Yes, just this evening.”

“Yeah, well, I want to know what Touren knows about Slade. The bullets in this one came from his gun.” Cyborg pointed to the appropriate photograph. “And he didn’t mention it to you?”

“No. He said he’d shot at someone through the window, but didn’t say he’d hit anything.”

“Well, you need to find him. Starting right now, he’s my chief suspect.”

“Trent has nothing to do with Slade.”

“Oh, so it’s Trent, is it?” Cyborg mocked. “Well let me tell you, sister. In this court, you are guilty until Cy proves you innocent.” Raven looked at his determined face before responding.

“I don’t suppose you can prove that I’m not working with Slade, can you?” Cyborg just stared at her.

* * *

The sun slowly rose over Titans’ Bay, ushering in a new day for Jump City. Most people were getting up and rushing around, dropping into various positions in the daily grind. Some were just getting home, dropping off to sleep in darkened rooms, the shades pulled against the rising sun. Others had been up for a few hours now.

Mr. Chapman, the baker, had been up since 5:00 AM, making sure today’s bread would be fresh. He had just taken a batch of small “breakfast loaves” out of the oven. It was a recipe his uncle had used, and it was quite popular with the businessmen who passed through his shop. It was sweet – almost as sweet as a muffin – and lighter than a bagel. He thought about eating one of the pillow shaped loaves himself, spread with a thick layer of cream cheese, but, glancing at his protruding stomach, he decided against it. Mrs. Chapman had told him to lose some weight. Exercise was what he needed, not food. Mr. Chapman reached for the broom. He always opened his doors at 6:30. That gave him a little less than half an hour. He made his way into the oven room.

At first, Mr. Chapman didn’t notice her. She was in the shadows, ravenously consuming a small loaf. But, Mr. Chapman had owned this bakery for thirty years, and had worked under his uncle for eleven more before that. He knew exactly how many loaves of breakfast bread he had put in the oven, and that same number had come out. It took only a glance for him to realize one was missing, and he knew he hadn’t eaten it. Or had he? Mr. Chapman started poking in the corners with his broom, to see if the loaf had rolled off its baking sheet.

Between the oven and the wall, there was a small gap – too small for a man of Mr. Chapman’s girth to fit into, but a child might squeeze in. He jabbed his broom handle in the gap and was rewarded with a small squeak.

“You’d better come out of there.” He spoke softly, not wanting to intimidate whoever it was. There was no response, so Mr. Chapman added, “You’d better come out on your own. I don’t want to have to call the police.” A teenage girl crawled out of the space, clutching the breakfast loaf in her teeth. She brushed cobwebs out of her white hair and snarled at Mr. Chapman. He took a step back and set down the broom. The girl sat down and continued tearing at the bread.

“Do you have any money to pay for that?” The girl shot him a menacing glance, coupled with a low growl. “Do you have anywhere to go?” No response. “What about any other food?” The white-haired girl continued munching in her bestial way. Mr. Chapman sighed. He picked up another loaf from the tray, sliced it open and applied a generous amount of honey to it. He extended it to the girl. She stopped gnawing and stared at him wide-eyed – a stare half out of fear and half out of disbelief.

“You’d better take this and go. I need to open shop in fifteen minutes. If you’re still here…it probably won’t go so well with you. My wife comes by at 6:35 every day, and she’s not as forgiving as I am.” The girl sprang up, snatching the honey-spread loaf away from Mr. Chapman. She stared at him again, then dashed toward the back door. Just before she left, she turned back for a second.

“Thank you.” With that, she left. Mr. Chapman sighed. He knew he shouldn’t do that. If his wife found out, she’d be reprimanding him for being too soft. He thought about the girl; she looked so scared. Maybe this kindness would teach her more of a lesson than harshness would.

* * *

“I trust you, Rae. If you say you’re not working with Slade, I believe you,” Cyborg said after considering for a few moments.

“Thank you,” Raven returned. She looked out the window at the awakening city.

“You are going to say it, aren’t you?” Raven smiled slightly.

“I’m not working with Slade.” Cyborg left out a breath.

“You had me worried for a minute there.” That was the moment Trent picked to walk into the room.

“Good morning, Raven,” he said cheerfully, raking his fingers through his short black hair. Immediately after he spoke, he caught sight of Cyborg, who was staring straight at him.

“Uh, why is he here?” Trent and Cyborg simultaneously directed their question to Raven. She didn’t answer either man. Rising from the chair she had occupied, she walked to the window and stood looking out, her hands joined behind her back. Cyborg and Trent glared at each other, Trent not daring to sit down, and Cyborg not daring to grab Trent. Finally, Raven spoke.

“When the sun comes up, over the city, it brings new warmth and light to everyone. In the new day, new acquaintances can be made, new alliances formed, and yesterdays mistakes forgotten. I always look forward to the sun’s rising.” That was all she said; she remained looking out the window. Trent took several steps toward the large couch; Cyborg got out of his seat. This halted Trent’s progress towards the couch, and as he could find no other seat available, he turned towards the kitchen. Cyborg sighed, and turned to Raven.

“So, you just let that guy march in here and take up residence? You don’t even know who he is,” Cyborg half-whispered in an irate voice. Raven still didn’t turn around, but she did answer Cyborg.

“I know who he is.”

“Who is he, then?”

“A man with a sad past. Half a person. He’s also the best agent-for-hire in all of Jump City.”

“His wife died.” It was less a question and more of a statement on Cyborg’s part. He felt certain he had interpreted Raven correctly, and he had.

“Five years ago, Trent lived in New York City with his alien wife, Chrysthee-allaynogaahna Volitaccomum. He called her Chrysanthemum. If you ever hear him use that name, that’s who he is referring to.” Cyborg nodded, though Raven still had her back turned. “His father was a United Nation delegate, rather highly placed. After the deportation, he worked to get Trent’s wife back, but she died on the moon, while carrying their child.”

“Woah. He told you this?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Trent never speaks about it. I found this all out myself.”

“Of course. I won’t ask him about it.”

“I appreciate that,” Trent said from behind Cyborg. The robotically-enhanced man spun around, resuming his earlier glare. “Ok, lay off the harsh looks, Captain Stone. You obviously aren’t here to arrest me again,” he said, downing a glass of water. “You didn’t even know I was here. So obviously, your business is with Rae…McFrae. Jenny McFrae.”

“You don’t have to call me that around ‘Captain Stone,’” Raven interjected, finally turning from the window. “And you can call him Cyborg.”

“Hey wait a minute…he can?”

“Hush, Cy.”

“Ok,” Trent resumed. “That means you must be another of the Titans. I’m your friend, Cyborg, but only Raven is my boss.” He extended his hand to the person who, less than thirty-six hours ago, had thrown him in jail. Cyborg hesitated a moment before taking it, but he did.

“Pleased to work with you, Mr. Touren,” he said with a vigorous shake.

“And with you. My name is Trent, though.”

“Not a problem.” Trent started back toward the kitchen.

“Oh, and Raven?” She turned.

“Yes?”

“If I’m going to be living here, we need to restock the refrigerators.”

Ok, 1st question:
Can you spot the Great Expectations reference?
2nd question:
Still holding to your previous ideas on Sam? (George will be coming up in chapter 10. He's one of the things I edited out of chapter 9). There is no right or wrong answer to this one.
3rd question:
Do you still believe I'm going to bring in the other Titans?
Ok, that's it for now. I hope you enjoy it! I think I had a classic rock reference in here, but I edited it out...

7<regor

[ShadowOfAGhost]

I have never read Great Expectations but I think I can play spot the odd line out (needle in a haystack....) is it
It had been a wretched night. It still was a wretched night, though night would soon be over. Then, it would begin to be a wretched day. Oh, what a miserable world!

and of course you had to edit out the classic rock refrence!:mad: the only one I probably would have identified! oh well.

I think Samantha is good, but will be ultimatly corrupted and turn evil.

The other Titans, yes, I think you will but that won't likely be for another 2-3 chapters until we see another titan. soooo, that would probably be about 6-8 months right?:p :anime:

but seriously, NICE JOB!!!

[Sproxie]

*starts dancing around singing "A new Chapter, A new Chapter!"* :anime:

1. No........ :shrug:
2. Well, if Raven is gonna train Samantha, then I think George is the one who might become bad.
3. um, I don't really think the Titans might come in, if they do i think it'll be sometime later.

I loved it!

[Rae]

Ok, 1st question:
Can you spot the Great Expectations reference?
2nd question:
Still holding to your previous ideas on Sam? (George will be coming up in chapter 10. He's one of the things I edited out of chapter 9). There is no right or wrong answer to this one.
3rd question:
Do you still believe I'm going to bring in the other Titans?

1) I don't know if it's right but i'm going to take a really wild guess and say it was
“When the sun comes up, over the city, it brings new warmth and light to everyone. In the new day, new acquaintances can be made, new alliances formed, and yesterdays mistakes forgotten. I always look forward to the sun’s rising.” That was all she said; she remained looking out the window.

2)I still think that Sam's a victim of uncontrolable events

3) I don't know but i hope so very much!

This is a great chapter, i liked this bit

“Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos,” she chanted softly. Slowly, the fire gathered itself into one column, then it splashed out, taking the vague shape of a person. “You must locate the girl.”

“What girl?”

“The electric one. The one who burned you. The one you saved from an alien two days ago.” The fire condensed and became a burning photograph of Samantha Gripes.

“Whatever for?”

“You must train her to use her powers.” Raven became frustrated.

“Why? What’s she to me? Who am I, Arella?”

“Just as Mother used to take in hopeless people and help them, you must find this girl and train her.”

“I remember all the horrid people she used to find. It was a bad occupation for a woman with a young daughter.”

“You have not children.”

“I have all of you.” Sister Sorrow threw back her head in a powerful laugh.

“We are your sisters, not your daughters! We are you, not your progeny. Remember that.” Raven sighed.

“All right, I’ll remember. I still see no reason for me to waste my life training some hopeless young girl.”

“Remember. You were once a little girl who couldn’t control her powers. Remember how terrified you were; how angry you were. And the Titans took you in and helped you learn. Now, you must do the same for this girl.” Raven threw up her arms in exasperation.

“I’m in the middle of a crisis! My agent failed his mission, and now Slade’s out there and he has heaven knows what deadly devices and plans and…”

“There is time and opportunity to do both. Train the girl and defeat Slade.”

“What if I don’t train her?” Sorrow shot Raven a withering look. “I’m serious. What if I just don’t listen to you?” Sorrow sighed and continued.

“If you do not train the girl, she will die. Your mission…”

Raven heard a siren blaring in the distance. Suddenly, everything disappeared, and she was back in her room at the tower. She screamed in frustration.

“And just when I was going to finally learn something! By now, Trent’s probably been awakened by this racket.” She pulled on a heavy black bathrobe and stomped down the hall to the control room. Just before she got there, the alarm shut off. Trent must have gotten it, she reasoned, as she stepped inside the control room. But no, Trent was nowhere to be found. She glanced at the cameras. She saw a dark figure coming up the hallway. Strange, the lights were on for him. Raven spoke over the intercom to her guest.

It was really great to read, Raven's little argument with herself and comparing herself to her mother

And now we wait for the next chapter!

Rae

[Crowgirl]

*starts dancing around singing "A new Chapter, A new Chapter!"* :anime:

1. No........ :shrug:
2. Well, if Raven is gonna train Samantha, then I think George is the one who might become bad.
3. um, I don't really think the Titans might come in, if they do i think it'll be sometime later.

I loved it!
This time, Sproxie has said what I was going to say. Brilliant chapter!

[Matt A]

Hey, about time for a new chapter!:p

There's a cool team-up (Rave, Cyborg, Trent and Samantha) possibly in the works here, and having them against Slade will be very sweet indeed...:D


Right, here's my answers to your questions:

1. If I'm not mistaken, the line from Great Expectations is this one:
Raven almost expected to see a rotted bridal cake in the middle of the table, covered in cobwebs and falling to pieces.
Am I right?
2. I agree with Rae: at the moment, Samantha is more tragic than good or evil. I'm sure that I'll be able to form a more sensible judgement in time.
3. You said near the start that the other Titans will put in an appearance, so I'm still holding out hope. Besides, Beast Boy's already put in a cameo, and why would you put in the Terra flashback if you weren't going to use her later on?


Now all we need is the next chapter!:D

[ShadowOfAGhost]

I just realized something:

self-terminate and wipe blocks g3x2.0010 through g3x2.7206.
now, this is obviously set 15 years in the future, so you could have changed the standard, but memory locations are typically stored in hexidecimal. (0-F) where as here you have something else. oh well. shows just how pathetic my life is to be nit picking minute and unimportant details:sweat:

[Adrastea]

shoot, welshie's mate beat me to it.

I'm almost certain it was the part in Sorrow's castle where she almost expected to see the rotting bridal cake with cobwebs all over it. I read that book for English last year, and over-analized that damn cake so many times. urg, oh well, it was a good book, i did enjoy it. Great chapter, by the way, i can't wait for the next one!

[Kregor8]

Yeah, it was the cake. Good job you two.
Also, Shadow, I know next to nothing about programing, so I had to make up something quick. Either way, it's a big block that holds stuff you can't get to now...

7<regor

[Raven_909]

Uhhh, right...

Great chapter! Write more soon, or else!!!!:evil: :evil: :anime: :anime: :p :p

~Ra\/en_909~

[Crowgirl]

You need a new death threat, Raven_909. Let me know if you need help...

Is Great Expectations a book? I have no clue what it is....

[ShadowOfAGhost]

1. Yes, it is a book. It is written by charles Dickens (the guy who wrote Moby Dick)

2. Kregor, wrap your mind around this. many of us tried and failed to identify the quote, but we picked out quotes which we thought could have been Dickins. thus, we were comapring your work to that of Charles Dickens.

3. I could teach you to understand binary, hexidecimal, and octal (or any other base you want) if you would like, it's just realy confusing.

[Adrastea]

YAY!! i got it right!!!

[DKH]

Damn, This is good.

Keep it up.

[Matt A]

YAY!! i got it right!!!
So did I! Yay!:D!

By the way Ghost, Dickens didn't write Moby Dick. It was a dude called Herman Melville.:rolleyes:

[ShadowOfAGhost]

???? oh.
(must resist spam!!!)

Can't wait for the next chapter! Hope it will be out sooner than the last one was!:p
(but then again, one can't rush perfection)

[Vivace]

1. Yes, it is a book. It is written by charles Dickens (the guy who wrote Moby Dick)

Actually, Moby Dick was written by Herman Melville. But charles dickens wrote classics like, Sketches by Boz (Boz was his alias, before he was a great writer the book didn't sell very well) A Tale of Two Cities and of course, Great Expectations. A little note, Dickens invented the Paper-back book and published all his works in this format doing three chapters at a time over a span of a week. After a book was finished, he'd sell a hardback addition that way everything looks good becasue paper backs have a tendency to fall apart. Then he'd hire door-to-door salesmen to buy back his books that were in paper back (they'd were just going to throw them away since they had the hardback) take the pages and make a "Collectors Addetion" With a very fancy cover. He was the first person to sale the same book to the same people 3 times. Not only was he a writing genius he was a marketing genius as well.

[Kregor8]

Yeah, I was going to correct the Moby Dick thing, because Melville lived in the next town over from me. I drive past his house every time I go up to the library.
Hey Vivace,
Are you going to comment on my story, or just Shadow's mistake. Cause if that's all you're going to do, it's mean to me and to him...:D

7<regor

[Vivace]

I'm still busy reading it (I'm way behind Joined the fourm at the wrong time)


So far it's reallyl good. much better than antyhing I'd come up with. Wel back to reading.

[raven54]

Raven almost expected to see a rotted bridal cake in the middle of the table, covered in cobwebs and falling to pieces. But no cake existed Great Expectations reference ... I've only read the shortened version for English, though. I attempted to read the real version once, but was bored by the gentleman-conversion-ing part.

ok, this is a review for a couple of chappies cuz i haven't been around much.... The raven's mind stuff was extremely interesting. Raven's obviously quite messed up inside still. My favorite emotion was Brother Rage, kinda reminded me of part of myself. I like how the emotionoids are deeper and more complex that Joy only being happy-go-lucky and carefree and Rage being more than, well, anger and such.

I feel bad for Sam. Her boyfriend gets arrested on her behalf and she discovers a strange unnatural and currently-uncontrollable power.

It looks like Slade's definitely back and is tempting George... for apprenticeship or something else, it's hard to tell what you're gonna pull outta your hat.

I liked Raven's little argument with herself and comparison to her mother.

There's a cool team-up (Rave, Cyborg, Trent and Samantha) possibly in the works here, and having them against Slade will be very sweet indeed...:D Agreed.

And yeeeeeah... not much more to say but Great Job and Continue Soon...now i hafta get back to Spanish HW.

[Crowgirl]

Yes, it is a book. It is written by charles Dickens (the guy who wrote Moby Dick)
Uh... no offense, but even I knew that.*

And as the 'smart guy' said, take your time, you can't rush perfection!

CG/Crowgirl/?????

*Note: This means you must be pretty stupid.

[Kregor8]

Ok, bringing you Chapter Ten! I would post questions now, but I'm in a rush to get out of the house, so I can't. You'll just have to read this and think up some smart replies on your own.

<disclaimer - all song lyrics in this chapter are original by Kregor8 and are the property of said artist and of Seventh Rose. Any reproduction of said lyrics will result in a violent beating (within the extent of the law, of course)>

The mask hung on the wall – ominous and imposing. Its orange half contained a red glowing eye, a contrast to the black half which was completely black. A low voice seemed to emanate from the frightful piece, and George Pents stood enraptured, listening to it.

“I’ve come to give you what you’ve always wanted,” the voice repeated for the third time. George finally responded.

“You can get me Samantha back?”

“I can.”

“What do I have to do?” The red light flashed.

“First, you must pledge your allegiance to me. Then, you must be trained. Finally, you will arrive at your goal.”

“How long will it take?”

“As long as you make it take,” the voice murmured softly.

“I’m ready,” George blurted out. “I’m ready…I want Samantha back. I will do anything to get her back. I don’t care what. Life isn’t worth living without her.”

“Good, good,” the voice purred. “Your enthusiasm does you well. Now, you must take the oath. Repeat after me. I, George Pents…”

“I, George Pents…”

“Do hereby swear by all I hold sacred…”

“Do hereby swear…by Samantha’s very blood…”

“to serve as apprentice to Slade, until I either die in his service, or am released from my oath.”

“to serve as apprentice to Slade, until I either die in his service, or am released from my oath.”

“Good,” the voice purred again. “Now, you will fall asleep, and when you wake up, you shall begin your training.” The world around George faded to black. The last thing he saw was the glittering eye behind the mask. He could have sworn it was Samantha’s face staring at him. And it was crying.

* * *

Cyborg and Trent had both left the tower by now, each to seek his own breakfast and whatever else the day might bring. Trent had given Raven his cell phone, and Cyborg had all manner of communication equipment built into him, so they were both able to contact her.

Funny,she thought, as she sat alone in the tower. If I have Trent’s phone so he can call me, what’s he going to call me with? She looked out the window at the city as she drank her green tea. That was all she needed for breakfast – just one mug of green tea.

Something was bothering her. She knew it was there – right there in her mind, but she just couldn’t remember what it was. Did it have to do with Trent? With Cyborg? With Slade? She couldn’t place the worry, and it was starting to bother her. She took another sip of tea and looked down at her clothes. I should probably get dressed, she thought when she realized she was still wearing her fuzzy black robe. She finished off the tea and made her way to her room.

All through the morning, Raven couldn’t shake the thought that there was something important she needed to do. She ran background checks on Trent – again. Everything was exactly as she had originally read - nothing strange that she didn’t already know. True, the records didn’t list that Trent was a mutant, but her records as “Jenny McFrae” didn’t list that she was a former Titan or a half-demon. She turned her searches to another vein.

Raven re-read every single piece that she could find about Jump City’s current mayor. There wasn’t much, and she had read it all before. He was a man in his mid fifties; he had been in the Coast Guard during Desert Storm; he had lost his right eye in a fight with some drug dealers on the Gulf of Mexico; and he had moved to Jump City seven years ago, to work at the First Interplanetary Bank of Jump City. Of course, after the alien deportation the bank had closed, but Mr. Chad Winston had been stuck here. He’d taken a position on the former mayor’s staff, and then run for that office when his employer retired. He’d been mayor two years now, and that was about how long Raven had been keeping a close eye on him.

She’d checked with the Coast Guard. There had indeed been a “Chad Winston” in the guard during Desert Storm, and he did roughly match the description of the current mayor, if you adjusted for age. The problem arose in the record of how he lost his eye. According to official Coast Guard records, Chad Winston lost not his right eye in the fight, but his life. This had been the first real piece of evidence Raven had found that showed that the mayor could be anything other than what he claimed to be.

So, Raven had contacted the Coast Guard directly. She’d met with several men who had served with Winston, and all of them immediately identified pictures of the mayor as their old shipmate. She had never actually been able to arrange a face-to-face meeting of the mayor and his “shipmates,” and she still wasn’t satisfied.

Wanting to know more, she had turned to less orthodox sources. She had visited the various local crime lords – sometimes in one disguise or another, sometimes in shadow form. From them, she had learned that this “Chad Winston” had a history as a petty arms smuggler – running AK-47s and RPGs up from Mexico. She also found that he had several less than sterling connections with robotics manufacturers in the area. That was when she became certain that the strange idea she had held ever since she’d met him on the campaign trail was true.

“Chad Winston,” the new mayor of Jump City, was actually Slade Wilson, the Teen Titans’ worst enemy. The idea had shocked her at first – they had all seen Slade die in the volcano that Terra had started, so many years ago. And yet, there he had been, standing before her giving a campaign speech. She couldn’t deny it, could she?

She glanced at the clock. Was it half past three already? She still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something she needed to do. What was it?

“Augh!” Raven slammed her fist down on the desk in frustration, knocking papers and pencils flying. Mumbling under her breath, she started picking the various office supplies off the floor. Abruptly, an idea came to her. She looked at the pencil she held in her hand. Yes, that should work nicely. Raven pocketed the pencil and snatched up a couple of sheets of paper. Closing the door to the research room behind her, she dashed down the hall to her bedroom.

When the Titans had remodeled the tower after Timmy and Goldfire had been born, Raven had built a special “meditation room” into her bedroom. Since her new residence was roughly three times as large as her old one, this could be accomplished without making any real sacrifices of space.

She lit some candles and set the stack of paper in front of her. Sitting in her typical cross-legged way, Raven began her usual chant of “Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos.” Her eyes shut; she lifted the pencil and let it flow over the paper.

It seemed like no time at all had gone by, when her trance was broken by an odd melody that sounded suspiciously like Cyborg and Beast Boy’s Gamestation. Her eyes snapped open, and she jumped up, looking for the source of the disturbance.

“Oh, of course,” she growled when she spotted Trent’s cell phone. She snatched it off the bed where it lay. “Hello? Jenny McFrae.”

“Hey, Jenny? This is Trent.”

“What do you need?”

“I need you to meet me at “The Last House of Usher.” It’s a club in southern Jump.”

“And you need me, why?” she asked, straining the “why” slightly more than was needed.

“Remember this morning, when you told Cy and I about Sl…”

“No names.”

“Slick. And how he’s got ‘high connections?’”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I’ve set up a get together with him, sort of.”

“You what?” Raven screamed into the phone.

“Hey, take it easy. It’s not anything like that…hey, what the hell?” he suddenly shouted. “That’s my drink…yeah, you’d better. Ok. Sorry,” he spoke into the phone again. “There’s a big fancy-pants party/dance/shindig thing over in New Jump tonight. You and I are going.” Raven rolled her eyes.

“So, it’s a date already.”

“Nothing so crude,” Trent answered with a laugh.

“And why, exactly, do I need to meet you at some dance club?” Raven countered.

“Oh, it’s no dance club. The House of Usher is a metal club. All the good bands play here - thrash, metal-core, death metal, even a few nü-metal people, if you can believe it.”

“Just great.”

“You like metal?”

“Hmm…music full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. No. I hate metal.”

“Yeah, well this is where we’re getting our invites.”

“Excuse me?”

“I told you, this party is posh. Invitation only, strict dress code, all that. What are you wearing?” Again, Raven rolled her eyes.

“Black corduroys, purple sweater. Gray socks.” Trent was silent for a moment.

“Yeah…uh, do you have anything dressy? Not that the socks matter.”

“No.”

“Crap. Well, let’s see…,” he muttered. With Trent whistling strange melodies and grumbling unintelligibly, Raven sighed and flopped over on the bed. After a moment, he spoke again. “Why don’t you come over here and we’ll get you fixed up? You’d better hurry. The party starts at seven.”

“What’s the rush? It can’t be more than half past three.”

“Are you kidding?” Trent asked, total shock in his voice. “It’s quarter past five!” Raven gasped. She didn’t realize how completely she’d lost track of time.

“Ok, I’ll be right over. Uh…how do I get there?” Trent quickly outlined directions to the club.

“Just tell the bartender, ‘The eclipse is waning.’ He’ll answer, ‘So soon?’ and you tell him, ‘Another fortnight.’”

“That’s elaborate.”

“It’s a standard precaution. See you in about fifteen.” With that, he hung up. Raven sighed again and pocketed the phone. She needed to go, but she was going to see what she had drawn first.

Raven picked up the stack of papers. There were eight of them, so this might not have been as helpful as she thought. At least she’d know what was on her mind.

The first picture wasn’t much, just a sketch of her own head. That was usually the first thing she drew in this trance. She tossed it aside.

The second wasn’t much better. Trigon. She already knew to discount any drawings she made of him – he was too much a part of her for that not to come out. The third was similar – her mother. She started to toss this one also, but stopped. It was a good likeness. She set it on the bed.

Fourth, she had drawn a picture of Slade. It was a strange sketch – he was holding a heart in one hand, a bottle of poison in the other. This picture obviously had some kind of hidden meaning, but she didn’t have to time now to decipher it. She set it aside.

Raven stared in disbelief at the fifth sketch. It showed her and Trent sitting on a bench in a park together, their arms around each other. She had a smile on her face and he was laughing about something. They looked quite happy together. Trent had no right to be happy with her! What had ever caused her to draw that? She glared at the damning paper. It was just another trick of her mind. That was all it could possibly be. She’d only known him for a few days, anyway. Raven’s eyes flashed yellow, and the paper shredded in a black wave. The picture underneath immediately caught her eye.

This drawing depicted a girl, seemingly made out of flames. Jagged lines of something Raven couldn’t make out extended from the girl’s fingertips. Could they be claws? No, they were far too long and ragged to be claws. Then she saw the face. It wasn’t the face of the girl that caught her eye; no, it was another visage entirely. Behind the girl, there was a faint outline of an old face – her face. Suddenly, it all came back to her. The trance the night before, the electric girl, the dream. Sister Sorrow, telling her to find and train the girl. And she didn’t even know what would happen if she didn’t.

The last paper was the same as the first. That was also typical. She pocketed the drawing of the lightning girl. She would think about it later. For now, she needed to go meet Trent.

* * *

George opened his eyes on a cold, dismal scene. The stone arches above him, the wooden floor beneath him. He sat up slowly. He started, as he thought he saw a person standing in the darkened window frame. No, it wasn’t a person at all. Now that he looked at it, he could see that it was a stained-glass window. George realized where he was – this was an old church. Almost as soon as his mind made the connection, he heard the voice again.

“Hello, George Pents. Welcome.” George turned slowly around. There, standing in the pulpit like some sort of satanic minister, was the mask he had seen before. Except now, the eye wasn’t red and there was a body attached to the mask. The man stepped down from the shadowy pulpit and towards the light where George stood. As he stepped into the light, George got a better look at him. He was wearing a black and gray suit of armor with orange accents. Every step he took seemed perfectly measured and strangely deadly. He extended his right hand to George.

“My name is Slade. Are you ready to begin you training?”

“I’m ready,” George said with a huge grin on his face, taking Slade’s offered hand. The instant their hands clasped, Slade twisted George’s arm around, slamming him to the ground.

“Lesson number one: Never let down your guard.” George struggled to his feet.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I never expected…” He certainly didn’t expect the backhand swipe that struck his face.

“Lesson number two: Never apologize.” Rubbing his cheek, George spoke again.

“Yeah, well I…” Immediately he was hammered again. George wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and stared at his new teacher.

“Lesson number three: Never give excuses. Now, if you’re quite finished, we’ll begin combat training.” George simply nodded.

“Good. Follow me.” Slade turned on his heel and marched quickly to a door in the shadows. Whipping it open, he stepped inside. Obediently, George followed. Nearly tripping down the staircase, George felt his way down in the pitch dark. At the bottom, he ran into Slade. Only a single beam of light shone on him, revealing only his evil eye. When he spoke, it was in a cold whisper.

“How much are you willing to give to get what you want?” George stared him straight in they eye and answered just as coldly.

“Everything.”

“Good,” Slade answered, his voice the very essence of sinister. “Give it all,” he commanded, thrusting a long bendable staff into George’s hands.

With a snap, a single light flooded a large ring with illumination. In the center of the ring was a spider-like robot, poised for a spring. Its red eyes, which radiated a cold, industrial antagonism, were focused only on George. Trying to control his racing pulse, George stepped into the ring, staff held ready. With almost no sound at all, the monster leapt at him.

Oh, Samantha. If only you were with me now.

* * *

“The Last House of Usher” was situated in a strangely eerie section of the city. Streetlights flickered on an off at random intervals, and the paint peeled off the buildings on the street. Although there was no garbage to speak of, dirt could be felt in the air, and there were many sinister alleys where thugs carried out their trade. The club fit right in with all this, Raven thought as she stepped out of the cab. Though the building was mostly made of stone, and the slate paint on the clapboards seemed fresh, the place just seemed to scream warnings to passers by. Maybe it was the strange sign that depicted a collapsing mansion with the words “The Last House of Usher” superimposed on it. Maybe it was just the rumble of death metal that she could feel even here in the street.

Reluctantly, Raven climbed the several stone slabs that served for steps to the establishment and pushed open one of the double iron-bound doors that reminded her of something she’d seen on a Gothic cathedral when she’d toured Europe with the Titans.

She remembered the last time she’d been exposed to metal music. Robin and Starfire had dragged her to a thrash party one New Year’s Eve, and as the two of them had both consumed more alcohol than was good for them, Raven had to drive them home. It wasn’t a fond memory. The party itself was hell – she didn’t drink and was probably the only one there who didn’t. Nor daring to eat the food, and not interested in the band, she had stood in the back, trying not to be noticed. Despite her precautions, several drunken guys (and one girl) had propositioned her, and she had nearly choked on the thick, smoke filled air in the club. Amidst the furious bass drum and screaming guitars, the only lyrics she’d been able to make out that night were Tolerance doesn’t mean we all say the other is right. Tolerance is when everyone says everyone else is wrong, and nobody cooks a duck. Though when she thought back on it, she couldn’t be certain those were the words. And that singer probably didn’t say “cooks a duck.” She couldn’t understand what her alien friend saw in the music. She knew Robin only listened to it because Star liked it.

Taking a deep breath, Raven dove into the controlled chaos that was the Last House of Usher. As she stepped in, she was amazed at how well the building insulated the sound. When she had been outside, she could feel the musical rampage taking place inside. Now that she was on the other side of the doors, however, it felt as though her body was being physically beaten by the drums. The screaming guitars and shrieking singer didn’t do much for her ears either. Grimacing and trying to ignore the aural destruction around her, Raven made her way to the bar.

The bar tender was a wizened old man – not at all who Raven had expected she would find. He alternated between paying attention to the band and paying attention to his customers, who were few at this time of day. Brushing a stool off, Raven took a seat and waited for the man to notice her. When he finally came over to her, she had her head buried in her arms and didn’t notice him. He tapped her on the shoulder.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked. Bolting up, Raven gave him the passphrase.

“The eclipse is waning.”

“What?” he asked. “You’ll have to speak louder.”

“The eclipse is waning!” she shouted.

“So soon?” he shouted back.

“Another fortnight.” He grinned at her.

“So, you’re the girl Trent’s waiting for.” The song came to a stop, and there was a momentary respite. “If I was a bit younger, I might be waiting for you myself,” he added, flashing his white teeth at her. She snorted.

“Are you going to tell Trent that I’m here?”

“Oh yes. I’ll be right back.” The bartender left through a door behind the bar. Raven sighed and looked back at the stage, which was now empty. The stage was lower than where she was by about two feet, and the floor in front of it was even lower. Standing in that pit were about twenty fans, and another fifteen or so sat at the tables around the sides. After a minute, a man walked out on stage. The people in the pit immediately set up a cheer, but he motioned for them to be quiet.

“I know that it’s only 5:37, and we’re not scheduled to play until 6:00, but we’re ready to rock now…” The crowd drowned out anything else he may have said. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” he said with a smile as he ran back off stage.

The bar tender came back before the musician. He spoke immediately to Raven.

“He’ll be out in a minute. He’s on the phone.” Raven only nodded. The old man spoke again. “I guess you weren’t expecting to find an old chap like me around, were you?” Finally, Raven turned her attention to the man.

“No, quite frankly, I was not.” He flashed his grin again.

“Most people aren’t. I’ve been into metal for over thirty-five years. I remember when I first saw Metallica. I knew then that I simply had to own a place like this one. Who would have guessed it would actually be profitable?”

“You own this place?”

“Yes indeed. When did you get into metal?” Raven spoke very slowly.

“I. Hate. Metal.” He grinned wider than ever before.

“Sorry to hear it. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Not even a root-beer?” She thought for a moment. The musician and his band came on stage. “Looks like Seventh Rose is starting early today,” the old man commented.

“I’ll have a root-beer, I guess,” Raven answered. “How much?”

“Ah, nothing. For a beautiful woman…” She glared at him. “And a friend of Trent’s. On the house.” He filled a mug and handed it to her. “If you don’t like death metal, you should listen to this band. Seventh Rose is their name – they play a unique blend of melodic metal and metal-core.”

“How do you keep track of the terms?” Raven asked, sucking the foam off the root-beer.

“Thirty-five years will do that to you. I’m lucky to still have my hearing!” he laughed. Raven turned her attention to the band.

“Hey guys. Our concert doesn’t officially start until 6:00, so until then, we can play whatever we want!” The crowd cheered. More people had begun to fill the building. “So, I want to start out with a tribute to my buddy “Pennypouch,” who got shot to death in a club out in Michigan last week.” The guitarist started out with a clean riff, slowly building in intensity, until the entire band slammed into hardcore mode. The drums were pounding, the guitars shredding and crunching, the bass carrying all the rest with its near sub-sonic rumblings.

Raven listened in fascination. This music actually made sense. It wasn’t merely the frenetic rage of death metal, nor the out-of-control blast of thrash. This music actually fit together – and she could understand the singer.



I hope it’s murder you wanted,
because it’s murder you’ve got!



You always push me one step too far.

Don’t give a damn when I’m

Broken!

(And) Bleeding!

Just don’t give a damn.



Well, your plans have paid off.

Your money’s well spent.

If it was murder you wanted,
It was murder you got.



You always laugh at my demise.

You always laugh at my disgrace.

(You) Never!

Listen!

My blood is on your hands.

Our blood is on your hands!



I hope it’s murder you wanted,
because it’s murder you’ve got!



I murder you!

You murder me!

I murder you!

We murder we!

I’ve murdered you!

You’ve murdered me!

We’ve murdered us!

Now murder me!



I hope it’s murder you wanted,
’cause it’s murder you’ve got.

I hope it’s murder you wanted,
’cause it’s murder you’ve got!

So absorbed was she in the song, that she didn’t even notice when Trent came and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Jenny! Jenny McFrae!” Suddenly, she heard the voice calling her.

“What?”

“We need to go. I have the invitations, and we need to get some dress clothes.” She looked at Trent out of the corner of her eye. “I thought you hated metal.”

“I do.”

“Then let’s go,” he said, taking her arm.

“One more song!” she shouted, yanking it back.

“Listen,” Trent shouted over the noise, “any other time, I’d be glad to. I’d even take you backstage and you could meet the band. But right now, we don’t have time.” Reluctantly, Raven got off the stool and Trent dragged her out of the club. The last thing she saw was the old bartender, grinning at her.


Oh yeah. I just watched "Birthmark," and this story is being written completely ignoring Season 4. It's the only way I can have it make sense. Season 3 shook up things a little anyway. I can't always be changing this. Ok - one question I need to know so I can write a chapter that is comming up.
Have I given ages to Robin and Starfire's kids? Please tell me if I did.

[Matt A]

No, I don't think you have. I'd go and check if I had more time, but I don't, so I won't.

Anyway, that was yet another rocking chapter from the Kreg-meister (sorry). The club scene was infinitely cooler than I was expecting, there was some quality anti-metal propaganda going on (not that I share Raven's hatred of metal or anything...) and as for Slade's "cover" and his new apprentice...quite frankly, I've been left speechless yet again. Nice work!:D :D :D :D :D

Oh, and one more thing:

Robin and Starfire had dragged her to a thrash party one New Year’s Eve, and as the two of them had both consumed more alcohol than was good for them, Raven had to drive them home.

Does that line contain a Dwyr Budr reference, by any chance?;)


Ta,
Matt

[Kregor8]

Does that line contain a Dwyr Budr reference, by any chance?;)You bet it does! I have to pay tribute to the greats, right?

There was some quality anti-metal propaganda going on
Ha! I wondered if anyone would think that. Quite frankly, I love metal myself, but only some kinds and some times. So yeah, I don't really share Raven's hatred of it either.
Kreg-meister Now that's funny. For some odd reason, a lot of my friends call me "Keith-meister." They have for years. I've never heard that adaptation, though. :D

Ok, I'll throw in the questions now.
1) Did anyone catch the Dwyr Budr reference? (Already been answered, but this was on of the original questions).
2) How about the Shakespeare reference? (I love this line. I've been trying to fit it into my story for ages).
3) While we're doing obvious refernces, how about Edgar Allan Poe? It's a two-part allusion.
4) Ok, last one. This one's the hardest. Anyone catch the Peanuts reference?

Ok, that's about it for now. I can't ask you any more plot questions, cause that would mean I have to answer them. And I can't do that now.

Oh, one more thing. I'm about 1/3 to 1/2 the way through this story (WOW!) and am still going strong on it, but I have a few more projects under my hat. One of them, I have the first two chapter for already. My question is...should I start posting it now, or should I wait till this is done. I know that for now, I can support both fics, but when (Not if. When) my scheduel clamps down again, the second story might get put on the back burner. Ok - I'm sure you want to know what it is before you answer.

My next project is a rewrite (remake, remix, remaster, re-whatevertheheckyouwant) of "Days of Thunder," by Allen Carr. Allen's already read the first chapter and thinks I should post it ASAP, so I need to know from you guys. Is it worth the risk to be able to read a little bit now, or do you just want to wait?

You have till Wednesday to decide. I'll go on majority vote.

7<regor

Ps. Please don't just say you want the next story. Please also comment on this one. (Matt is excepted, because he already commented).

[Matt A]

You bet it does! I have to pay tribute to the greats, right?
:D :D :D :D :D

I didn't spot any of the other references, so I can't comment on those, but never mind. Oh, and I'm prepared to wait for the other story: writing more than one at a time is often a recipe for diaater...

Ta,
Matt

[Sproxie]

I LOVED this chapter! :anime: I made me laugh SO many times!
We need to go. I have the invitations, and we need to get some dress clothes.” She looked at Trent out of the corner of her eye. “I thought you hated metal.”

“I do.”

“Then let’s go,” he said, taking her arm.

“One more song!” she shouted, yanking it back.

“Listen,” Trent shouted over the noise, “any other time, I’d be glad to. I’d even take you backstage and you could meet the band. But right now, we don’t have time.” Reluctantly, Raven got off the stool and Trent dragged her out of the club. The last thing she saw was the old bartender, grinning at her.“Hey, take it easy. It’s not anything like that…hey, what the hell?” he suddenly shouted. “That’s my drink…yeah, you’d better. Ok. Sorry,” he spoke into the phone again. Those are just a couple quotes that made me laugh, i can't seem to find the others.
The meditation/drawing thing was absolutely genius. I never would have been able to think of something like that.
1) Did anyone catch the Dwyr Budr reference? (Already been answered, but this was on of the original questions).
2) How about the Shakespeare reference? (I love this line. I've been trying to fit it into my story for ages).
3) While we're doing obvious refernces, how about Edgar Allan Poe? It's a two-part allusion.
4) Ok, last one. This one's the hardest. Anyone catch the Peanuts reference?
1) I did.
2)?
3)?
4)?????

And those are my answers, sorta sad huh? :sweat:

[Rae]

1) I did.
2)?
3)?
4)?????

And those are my answers, sorta sad huh? :sweat:
Same here, but i will go and retry to find the shakespeare line!

I think that you shouldn't have two stories on the go at the same time. Al though i'm sure that you could pull it off for a while, at some point (Like you said) you won't have alot of time on your hands and will have to prioritise(sp?) and then we'll only have one instead of the two. It'll be better to wait and then you can have two sucesses one after the other ( as i'm sure they'll be sucesses!) Besides, you can still work on the second one while you're writing this one, it'll just mean you won't have to worry about having to keep up with the fans, if that makes sense...

I think that this chapter rocked, loved the club scene, the bit with the drawing was good-especially the pictures, they were good ideas-, George and Slade scenes were great aswell, i liked the idea that Slade was beating Georges manners out of him, and i liked the whole conection of Slade to the Mayor!

Basically i loved this chapter! You are truly amazing!

Rae

[ShadowOfAGhost]

wow! damn! nice! titme to elaborate...

excelent work on the previous chapter! You did good switching in between the two plotlines. somehow, I saw the thing about the Mayor and slade as being one just before you admited it. The fact that you seemed to try to draw our attention to it when it would otherwise seem unimportant sent up a red flag for me. when you said about his right eye, I instantly started thinking about what eye slade had covered on the mask. and finaly the thing about the contacts with the robotics corperation finalized it for me.

I noticed the refrence to the titans getting sloshed/wasted/drunk/hammered/whateveryouwanttocallit

I'm not positive about the E.A.Poe refrence, but I think this is it...
The stone arches above him, the wooden floor beneath him. He sat up slowly. He started, as he thought he saw a person standing in the darkened window frame.
I don't know about the other refrences, though it helps to know what to look for before you start reading.

as for the other story, I would say no. the others have brought up a good point about neglecting other threads and quite frankly, that is why I have made a policy of not having more than one story running at a time. save the other story for later.

[rrarbecy]

*heroic figure appears on hill top* I SHALL REVIEW IT!!!!!

*sigh* Sympathetic characters. George is now Slade's apprentice. One side of me says...God how boring. Unfortunate thing happens to guy. Guy joins evil guy to remedy afformentioned unfortunate thing....From the was this is going, Slade will make George fight Samantha. George will refuse. Slade will attack George...blah, blah, blah...

The other side of me says...George is with Slade!! COOL! That should make for a good rest of the story. HELL YEAH!!!!!

Second, Slade's three rules. Ingenius. Oh, how I loved those rules. Slade, hehe...what a character that Slade is!

Finally, Metal. Oh my lord, will somebody erase that trash from our universe. Screaming, screaming, and more screaming. That's all it is. It's like rap. Well...not as bad as rap, but still not true music. The only band I listen to that could even come close to being described as Metal is Audioslave.



The hint to the Poe quote isn't from Telltale Heart, is it? The hint, not the actual quote.


Nice avatar.:anime: Raven's hair looks like Wolverine's.

[Crowgirl]

Nice avatar.:anime: Raven's hair looks like Wolverine's.
It reminded me of Jinx actually.... :p You know, the hair up and all....

That was great, and I would expect nothing less. Slade is awesome, and since George is with him I don't hate him as much.... But at least he's doing it for a purpose, to get Samantha back.

Metal.... Metal..... Can't say much, the screams pop my ears. But I'll tell you what I like about the music stuff in that chapter, how the song made sense. I cannot stand it when a song's lyrics don't make sense, and people like it anyway. It annoys me sooo..... much.

Okay, for your questions....

1) I did see it as soon as I read it.
2) No, but I haven't read all that much Shakespeare (I'm reading Twelfth Night right now). Where's it from?
3) Nuh-uh.
4) Sadly, no. And I'm a huge Peanuts fan... :crying:

*heroic figure appears on hill top* I SHALL REVIEW IT!!!!!
Just... no capes, alright? :p

Ciao,
CG

[starfire0639]

OK so you need 2 more comments?Can mine be counted as one?That would be awsome.....Oh ya....I'm so glad I finally recieved time to come on and read this story.I absolutly had no idea what I was missing.This whole fic is amazing and funny and wow-ish!You msut write more and i hope someone else comments on it soon so you can post the chapter 11.....or if thats not the reason...then I'v just embarrsed myself and good luck with your plays! Malziltoph!Oh and Anime.....its pretty hard for me to hate anyone and i really see no absence in behaior other than the fact you were protecting your friend...in other words...I dont hate you:)




Just a fan,
Ash
O.o
writer too!

[Kregor8]

Ok everyone! After long delays, including losing a weeks work when my disk was corrupted, chapter 11 is completed! This is the beginning of the transition period between the first and second halves of the story, so the next few chapters might be a bit hard to write (This is the part I don't have all planned out) but the wait should still be less than this one was. Wow. It's been about a month, hasn't it? Ok, here we go. No references that I remember, this time.

Chapter Eleven



It was almost seven o’clock. The sun had set two hours ago, and a cold wind blew in from the north. It had been drizzling all day, but weathermen were saying it probably wouldn’t be long before the snow began to fly. From her vantage point on the corner of a windowsill, Samantha could tell they were right. She should probably find some shelter, or she’d be in trouble tonight.

Sliding down the drainpipe she had climbed to get to her seat, Sam wondered where she should go. She just wasn’t in the mood to break into a new place, and she didn’t want to go back to that room she had stayed in the night before. The shadow woman might come back. Sam’s hand sparked slightly when it left the pipe, but that had been the limit of her outbursts today.

She had spent the day wandering around the city, looking for food or clothes or shelter. She’d found some food – a kindly old man had bought her a sandwich – but she still needed new clothes. Her current attire was horribly scorched and she smelled like smoke. She would have to deal with that tomorrow.

To top everything off, the police were looking for her. Samantha has gathered that much information during the day. What with stray newspapers and pawnshop TVs, she was fairly well supplied with news. She even knew that George had gotten away. That was currently the only thing keeping her in the city. George was free, and he would come find her. She clung to the idea, even now.

Suddenly, Sam realized that she’d been walking for quite a while now, and it was very cold indeed. In front of her was a brightly lit shop; she opened the door and walked in. Recognition struck her like a champion boxer. This was the bakery she had “borrowed” from this morning. There was the baker, just finishing up for the night. A feeling of guilt washed over her. She felt that everyone was staring at her, a thousand eyes boring into her. After a moment, she realized that nobody else was around.

Mr. Chapman, the baker, quickly recognized Sam. It wasn’t that hard – there weren’t many other girls wandering around Jump City who had white hair and looked like they’d just been struck by lightning. At first, the kindly baker didn’t know what to do. Here was a girl who he knew had practically stolen a loaf of bread, come back to the scene, and his wife was already upset with him for “eating two breakfast buns.” Of course, he knew who had really eaten them, but what would she say if he told her that the real culprit was a slip of a girl with snow white hair who smelled like a fire? He didn’t dare guess. Sam was the first to speak.

“Hi. I…guess you remember me from this morning…” she started. Mr. Chapman simply watched her, and she didn’t continue. After a minute, she got up the courage to speak again. “I…need a…a place to stay tonight. Can you help me?” Mr. Chapman sighed loudly. What had he gotten himself into? The girl slumped slightly and turned to leave.

“No, wait,” the plump baker called out to her. “I might be able to help.” She seemed to perk up a bit, and Mr. Chapman stroked his chin.

I can’t take her home – Mrs. Chapman wouldn’t hear of it. Though she wouldn’t mind helping out someone in need, she would want to know more about the girl: where she was from; what she was doing; what she had had for breakfast. No, that won’t do at all, he thought. Then, a new idea struck him. He spoke to the girl.

“See that broom in the corner?” Samantha nodded.

“If you sweep up the shop while I finish in the kitchen, I’ll let you stay here tonight. It’ll be warmer than outside, at least.” Sam nodded again, and, picking up the broom, began mechanically sweeping the floor. This wasn’t so bad. At least it was warm here. At least the baker was a kind man. At least the shadow woman wouldn’t find her here.

* * *

“Who are you?”

“Carol Wright.”

“And where were you born?”

“My parents were missionaries in Japan. I was born there.”

“When did you come to America?”

“When I was ten. Twenty three years ago.”

“And I am?”

“My cousin Francis Wright.”

“And I live where?”

“New York City. You know, that’s a ridiculous name.”

“Oh, be nice. Well, at least you know who we are,” Trent said, hailing a cab. “It wouldn’t do to have you forgetting your own name. After you.” He motioned for Raven to get in first.

“It would have been easier if you had gotten blank invitations.”

“I know, I know. But that wasn’t an option.”

“What if somebody there knows the real Wrights? What would we do then?”

“Let’s not think about that,” Trent muttered as he handed the driver the address.

“You realize this is across the river, don’t you?” the incredulous driver asked, tossing the paper away as though it would bite him.

“Yes, I know.”

“Most people don’t go across the river, from Old Jump to New Jump.”

“Well,” Trent said, putting on his best rich snob voice, “More people should. You can find the greatest little restaurants over here.”

“Ok, your choice. But it’s going to be extra for the bridge toll.”

“Just go.” The cab started towards New Jump.

“I don’t suppose I want to ask how you managed to get your hands on those invitations, do I?” Raven asked in a low voice.

“Oh, it wasn’t anything illegal. You remember my friend Alex? Well, he knew some people who had some. He got them for me. I didn’t ask how…but I figure he paid for them. In cash or services, it doesn’t really matter to me.”

“And the clothes?” Raven asked, looking at Trent’s black suit and her own purple dress.

“That was easy. My landlord’s brother is a tailor.”

“You don’t have a landlord.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

“How did he take the news?”

“Better than I expected, actually. It will probably take a while for it to really hit him.”

“It’s really too bad,” she trailed off. After another moment, Raven asked the question Trent had been hoping he wouldn’t have to answer.

“What are we supposed to do when we get there?” He didn’t answer. “Francis?” Trent chuckled.

“I don’t know, really. I hoped that would be something you would already know. I guess you can fraternize with him. Learn something about his plans. I don’t know. You’re the only one who knows anything about this guy.”

“And you will…” she left the statement hanging.

“I’ll find some old bean to gab with. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m worrying.”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

“You’re welcome.”

Just as the cab crossed the river, it started to snow.

* * *

I have no idea what I am doing, George thought, as he dodged a stab. He rolled to the side and jumped up, hammering his robotic opponent with his full strength. The pole he was using just rebounded off the spider-bot’s armored back. Yep, I definitely don’t know what I’m doing. The spider took another stab at him, but this time, when he tried the same dodge, another leg whipped out, striking him on the shins. George fell to the ground with a groan, and the spider was on top of him. He couldn’t even comprehend the speed that the bot had moved with. So, it had just been toying with him the whole time.

The spider-bot raised a leg and struck at George’s head. The leg was sharpened to a point – when it hit him, it would easily split his head in two. George shut his eyes. The severing blow never fell. The light faded from the robots eyes, and when George opened his, he found Slade standing over him.

“That’s enough for tonight.” Slade’s voice was distressingly calm as he helped George up. Supposing the violent agitation of their last encounter to be Slade’s normal demeanor, and recalling his own horrible performance that just ended, the apparent docility of his new master was alarming in the extreme. Slade beckoned for George to follow him.

He hasn’t even really taught me anything, George grumbled inwardly. Just those three stupid lessons. Caught up in his own thoughts, George nearly walked straight into Slade again.

“This is your room,” Slade gestured. “You will study the materials on fighting. I will be back tomorrow.”

“What if I need to contact you before then?” George hazarded.

“You won’t,” Slade commanded, shutting the door. George waited for a minute before attempting to leave the room, but the door was locked. He sighed, resigning himself to study “The Manual of Unarmed Combat.”

Look at these diagrams. How am I ever going to learn all this stuff? He threw the book down after a few more pages and fell back onto the small bed. Staring at the ceiling, one thought ran through his mind.

“There must be an easier way.”

* * *

Trent barely suppressed a double take when he saw the gala that he had invited Raven and himself to. This was no small tea party – this was a real high-class affair, hosted by the number one name in Jump City Society – Katherine Moth. Trent made a quick metal note never to try a scheme like this again.

Raven was as completely flabbergasted as Trent, but her agitation took the form of irritation at Trent and worry that she and he were underdressed. This was the kind of society that Star had reveled in at the height of the Titans’ popularity, and Raven had no experience in these circles. Of course Star had invited her to many a party, but meditation requirements were an all to convenient door out of such engagements. And now her first experience in such an endeavor would be coupled with an exercise in deception.

“Smile, why don’t you,” Trent hissed around his own oh-so-sweet grin. Raven threw him a grim look.

“I’ve forgotten how,” she whispered. Trent laughed.

“Well, Miss Wright, there never was a better time to relearn.” She did her best to match Trent’s perfect beam, but the best she could do was little better than a grimace.

She looks pained, Trent thought, but he didn’t mention it to her. He handed the invitations to the doorman, who simply waved them inside, not even checking the cards. Well, that was easy.

The building chosen for the party was next door to a cathedral of some sort – the kind built widely in America imitating the high points of various European styles. The church was the object of no little discussion among the guests – apparently it had been recently purchased by an unknown individual at an unprecedented price, and the 1st Episcopal Church of Jump City was now meeting in a new building some fifteen blocks away. Trent grabbed a drink and wandered toward a group of men who were standing around in an apparently aimless manner. Raven had made her way to the other side of the room, and Trent assumed she could take care of herself.

“…Construction will always be the top contractor in this city. Now, if they tried a more open system like they instituted in Chicago, it would be so much easier to building in this city,” one of the men was saying.

“But you’ve been to Chicago,” another of the men interjected. “Their build quality is awful. Besides, Blahous Construction is doing a fine job on Malley Tower.”

“It’s still not going to do Jump City any good,” a third man countered. “New York has three towers within ten stories, and it has been rumored that the new NATO Tower will be over one hundred forty stories!”

“Bah!” The first man exclaimed. “Nobody gives a rip about New York City. Ask anybody. You don’t think that New York City has anything on Jump City, do you, Mr.…?” he asked, inducting Trent into the conversation.

“Wright. Francis Wright. And, quite frankly, I’m from New York, and I don’t think The City can be beat. I mean, three towers at 132 stories is nothing to sneeze at, if you’re talking about buildings. And I’ve heard that the new NATO Tower will be one…”

“Hundred and forty flippin’ stories, I know,” the man growled. “My name is Adrian Fischer. I work for Empire as a consultant – we contract sky scrapers.”

“Empire – I’ve heard of them. They did the John Paul Tower in Chicago. Very impressive building.”

“Why thank you,” Mr. Fischer grinned. “That was my first project with the company. I arranged most of the PR for that project.” The second man wheezed out a laugh.

“And a good sight that did, Adrian. People still don’t trust your “John Paul” after the disaster with Philips.”

“You shut up,” Fischer chuckled. “The people of Chicago know that JP is perfectly safe and they’ve contacted Empire about putting up another.” He grinned in triumph before tossing down his drink.

“I agree with Charles,” the second man said after a slight moment of silence. “Malley isn’t going to do Jump City any good when it comes to publicity. When you put up a skyscraper, it has to be the highest in the world if anyone is going to care.”

“I agree,” Trent said. “That’s why I supported our mayor when he proposed that no building shorter than 110 stories be constructed in Manhattan.”

“Our mayor sets fine policies,” the man retorted. He was a small sniveling man with a drooping mustache, and he seemed just the sort that started fights over politics. Trent managed a laugh.

“So I’ve heard. Tell me about your mayor, Mr.…”

“Beecher. Thaddeus Beecher. Nobody really knows that much about Mayor Winston’s past, but it’s been clear that he knows what he’s doing. No mayor before him set such strict anti-alien and anti-mutant policies. Look at what he’s done for the city!”

“I think his policies are too harsh,” the man known as Charles said. “We used to have the ultimate crime fighting team right here in Jump City, and they were aliens and mutants. I’d be glad to see them back again.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Charles. Just think of the inter-species trauma we would have to deal with. Alien diseases, no doubt. Inter-species marriage, more than likely. No, aliens are best off on their own alien worlds. What did aliens ever do for us, anyway?”

“They did give us a few more thousand years on our fossil-fuel reserves,” Trent answered.

“I didn’t ask you,” Mr. Beecher practically snarled. “If you want to tell me that the alien deportations were a bad idea, you’re a very bold man indeed.”

“I didn’t say that,” countered Trent, surprised at the drooping man’s ferocity. “But, I did live in the city during the deportations. And let me tell you, they were horrible. Aliens weren’t the only ones at fault then – not hardly.” Thaddeus Beecher snorted and stomped away. “What’s his problem?” Trent asked.

“Oh, don’t mind Ted. He’s the editor of the Jump City Daily. Extremely militant anti-alien paper. Back when the deportations first came up, Ted’s paper was on fire in support of them. He was all for the extermination of all alien residents on earth,” Adrian Fischer started.

“His paper was also the biggest supporter of Chad Winston when he was campaigning. The Daily is hardly what you would call a balanced publication.”

“What is?” Trent laughed.

“Search me,” Adrian grinned, “but it has managed to be the number one paper in all of Jump City. New Jump at least. Old Jump doesn’t get much attention anymore. The regulations are so strict that we can’t contract any new buildings across the bridge. It’s really a sad situation.”

“So I take it you aren’t completely thrilled with the mayor’s policies?” Trent hazarded.

“No, not really,” Fischer replied. “They’re bad for business. Old Jump is practically abandoned, and current projects in New Jump are much harder without the alien technology your people used in NYC.”

“His policies are just wrong,” Charles growled. “He threw out the best team of superheroes this world has ever seen. The President of the USA himself extended a welcome to them, but not Mayor Winston. No, he was glad to see them go.”

“As I remember it, Charles, Winston wasn’t elected until after the Titans had left the planet.”

“True, but he said that we were better off without them.” Trent quietly walked away, leaving the two men to fight over their various opinions. It wasn’t long before he was accosted by an extremely flamboyant young woman dressed ostentatiously in pink and an almost as extremely dour young man who seemed to have no other purpose than to occasionally be hushed by his overseer. This woman was Katherine Moth, the host of the gala.

“I don’t remember seeing you before,” she mussed when she caught sight of Trent.

“No, I don’t suppose you have. My name’s Francis Wright. I’m here on business – from New York.”

“City? My, that is a ways. I’m Katherine, but you can call me Kitten. All my friends do.” She extended her white gloved hand to Trent. Not knowing what else to do, he kissed it. She laughed.

“Nothing informal about you, is there, Mr. Wright?”

“No, I don’t suppose there is,” Trent returned, cracking a slight smile.

“New York City, eh? I’ve been there once or twice. Splendid place, if I reme…” This was the first time the morose young man had spoken, and Trent was nearly as surprised by the fact that he spoke at all as he was by Kitten’s response.

“Oh, hush, Henry. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, be a dear and get me a Champaign.”

“Yes, Katherine.” Trent’s eyebrow rose significantly at this use of Kitten’s first name. The relationship between the voluptuous Kitten and the ascetic “Henry” was obviously much more complex than it first appeared. Kitten noticed Trent looking after the departing servile and quickly commented.

“Henry does try so hard, but he’s just such a bore sometimes.” She tossed her blond head after the retreating Henry. “It isn’t really his fault, either.” She leaned close to Trent and whispered in a loud voice.

“He was castrated in a lab accident.” Trent felt a tinge of compassion for the young man. “Sometimes I wish Daddy would have chosen a different person to watch over me,” she sighed, straightening up again.

“Your father ‘chose him?’” Trent asked, hoping he wasn’t being too nosy. Kitten Moth, however, loved to talk about herself.

“Oh yes – before he was taken, he charged Henry to always look after me and make sure that I was safe. Poor Henry has taken the job all too seriously, and often I find I have to get rid of him in one way or another. Especially at night,” she hinted wickedly.

“I’m sure that’s more than I need to know,” Trent quickly responded. “Your father is dead?”

“Oh no. He’s in federal prison. So now I’m head of the labs that he used to run. Not that I care about science any. But the scientists tolerate me – I’m mostly just PR these days. And there are a few cute ones in the batch,” she snickered salaciously. Trent was beginning to feel uncomfortable with “Kitten” Moth.

“What sort of research do your scientists perform?”

“Oh, genetics. Everything is genetics nowadays. Ten years ago, it was mammal genetics. Before that, they looked at fish. And back when Daddy started the company, the looked at bugs. All with human enhancement in mind. Today they’re looking at alien genetics, of all things. And they’ve done some weird things, let me tell you. The man with two tongues…”

“What sort of research did they do with bugs?”

“Oh, all horrid kinds. They turned people into bugs. They turned my boyfriend into a spider and Daddy even took some of the hormone enhancers and turned himself into a moth. “Killer Moth,” he called himself. He always was obsessive. Wanted to take over the world!” She laughed. “Then, the Teen Titans took him down, and he got dragged off to prison. Leaving me in charge!” At this point, Henry returned with Kitten’s Champaign. Without warning, Katherine changed the topic of conversation.

“Do you know who that woman is? I think I know her from somewhere.”

“Which woman?” Trent asked.

“That one – with the purple hair.” Kitten pointed out Raven from a small group of women quietly conversing on the other side of the room.

“Oh, she’s my cousin – Carol Wright. Lives by herself in Philadelphia, but she came out with me for a bit of a vacation. I’m on a business trip.”

“Well, I think I might go speak to her. I’m sure she’ll be as interesting as her cousin.” With a grin, Kitten flounced off to assail Raven with her egotistical personality, leaving Henry and Trent with nothing to talk about. After standing quietly for a few moments, Henry suddenly spoke.

“She really is quite horrid.”

“Who?” Trent was confused. “You mean Katherine?”

“Yes, Katherine, curse her name. Her father gave me the job of watching over her while he’s in prison.”

“That must be quite a task,” Trent sympathized.

“Indeed it is.” Henry downed a shot of tequila. “She never stops tormenting me. I assume she told you about my accident?”

“No details. But yes. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve gotten over it,” Henry murmured, staring after his charge. “She’s still a virgin too, you know.”

“I never would have guessed.”

“Yep. She talks like a whore, but she’s still holding out for somebody.”

“I don’t suppose you know who.”

“You’ll never believe it.”

“Try me – after talking with her, I’m dying to know.”

“Robin.” Trent laughed loudly.

“Doesn’t he go by Nightwing now? And he’s married, besides.” Henry cracked a small smile.

“No, she means Robin. She doesn’t care for Nightwing at all. Telling you is my only revenge against her. She knows I know, and she knows I tell. But she tells plenty about me…so it does all even out.”

“Well, my sympathies with you. I can’t imagine what your life must be like.”

“Ah, don’t trouble yourself. I’ll find a wife someday. There must be somebody who would accept half a man,” he muttered morosely. Trent decided that he’d had enough of both Kitten and Henry, and quietly slipped away. It wasn’t long before Kitten came back to where Henry was still standing. She drew him aside an spoke conspiratorially.

“Do you remember where that Francis man said his cousin lived?”

“Philadelphia. I remember distinctly,” Henry answered. “He said he was on a business trip and brought her out for vacation.” Kitten grinned.

“Well, when I spoke to her, she told me she lived in Jump City and that her cousin was on vacation from New York. What do you make of that?”

“She’s who you thought?”

“Indeed.” Kitten laughed quietly. “It’s the hair. She should do something about the hair.” Just then, the mayor of Jump City approached the couple.

“Miss Katherine, it has been a pleasure,” he stated warmly. “I always look forward to your parties. But alas, I cannot stay.”

“No? That is a pity. The company will suffer without your presence.”

“They shall have to make due. I have been here two hours. There is an emergency City Council meeting in half an hour and I must be there.”

“Well, if you had had the time, there is a fascinating young lady you should meet.”

“Katherine, I’m sure I don’t have time for…”

“Oh, no, no, no, no. Not that kind of lady. She’s a local business woman. Simply fascinating – her cousin is visiting her on a business trip.”

“And I will find this woman fascinating…why?”

“I actually only want you to look at her. Does she remind you of anybody?” The mayor glanced at the woman pointed out by his host.

“I might have seen her on the campaign trail.”

“No, I was thinking somebody more famous. An actor, travelling incognito, maybe?” Mayor Winston looked a little harder.

“I can’t say I recognize her.”

“A pity,” Kitten sighed. “I do so like to know who I’ve invited to my parties. If random people just show up, you never know when you’ve ended up hosting some crazy bird.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to puzzle it out. I must take my leave.” With that, the mayor of Jump City left the party. Kitten pulled Henry back into the corner.

“Well?”

“He showed no signs of recognition.”

“Exactly. Anyone who has been in politics in this city should instantly recognize any of the Titans. I’m beginning to regret that we don’t know more about our illustrious mayor.” Katherine Moth snickered. “You did trace him, I assume, Henry?”

“Indeed.”

“And I traced Raven. By tomorrow, we shall know the truth.”

* * *

It was 10:30 when Trent approached Raven again. He was getting tired of this party – he had talked with so many different people that it all became a blur. There were just too many conflicting views. His mind could process it all. Or maybe I’m just exhausted, he thought. He’d spent all day trying to find out about the mayor and Slade and where that briefcase had gotten to. And the mayor had actually left the party, over a quarter of an hour ago.

“Well, Carol, shall we go?” he asked quietly. “All our friends seemed to have left.” Raven merely nodded, and they both left the building. Trent hailed a cab and they arrived back at the tailor’s with no further incidents. After the cab drove away, Trent realized the inconvenience of their situation.

“So…now we have to ride the motorcycle back to the tower. In the snow.”

“Mmmh.”

“And I bet you didn’t go grocery shopping today either…did you?” Raven snorted. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ So, what are we going to eat tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.” Trent laughed lightly.

“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? Trying to beat the big, bad villain, and we don’t even know how to get ourselves breakfast.”

“That’s hardly the case. I’ve managed fine on my own for six years. And what’s the ‘we,’ all of a sudden?”

“You, Cyborg, and I. We are working together, aren’t we?”

“Yes – but don’t get to comfortable with it.”

“Rather bristly, aren’t we…aren’t you.” Raven glared at him. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Well, I am. And there’s no food at the Tower. So I’m getting some chili. You may come, if you wish for a ride home.”

“First off, it’s my home, not yours. Secondly, how do you plan to get there?”

“I’ll drive slowly.”



* * *



The door opened on a small, unkempt apartment. It was a nice place, the visitor thought, but obviously the owner didn’t care much for cleaning. There were empty beer bottles lying around, dirty dishes on the counter, and laundry thrown in heaps on the floor. A rather fat man was sitting in a recliner, drinking beer and watching TV. The visitor stepped in, and shut the door silently.

“Hello, Ernie.” The man in the chair looked toward his guest.

“Hey, Bert. Want a beer?”

“Ernie, I got some news today,” the man said, opening the offered beer. “It’s a new job.” Ernie shuddered.

“Come on, Bert. You know how the last one went off. I can’t do that again.”

“Well, listen close then, Ernie. It’s not really a ‘new’ job. It’s the old one.” Ernie switched off the TV. “Those photos they showed us? The story they told us? None of it’s true.” He paused to take a sip of his beer. His companion swigged his, and waited for him to continue. “They faked it all, to send the guy into witness protection. Him and his family. And now they want us to take the old guard job up again.” Ernie stared at his coworker.

“You’re serious? They want us back? That’s nuts!”

“That’s what I thought. But I got the call today. If you’re interested, we’re supposed to meet them at the mansion tomorrow at nine. You in?” Ernie downed the rest of his beer.

“I’m in. Care to stay a while?”

“No, I need to get back. See you tomorrow, Ernie.” After Bert left the apartment, Ernie got out of the recliner and fished around in a stack of papers. Somewhere, he had the number he was supposed to call if he got any more news from Bert. There it was.

“Uh! It just had to be smudged, didn’t it?” he complained, rubbing at the extension number. Oh well. It either said 83 or 38. He reached for his phone, and dialed the number. A recorded voice answered.

“Please enter your desired extension, and hold the line.” Ernie typed in 83. The phone rang through. It must have been the right number after all. Another recording – this time a man’s voice.

“This is Cy. I’m real busy, so leave your message.”

*beep*

“Uh, hello. This is Ernie Ball – connected with the Harmen case. Uh, I was supposed to let you people know when I found out some more info, and uh…tomorrow morning at the mansion. Bert and I will be there. Some sort of new assignment. So, I’ve done what you asked. Bye.” Ernie set down the receiver. He didn’t know what to do anymore.

* * *

Trent slid his cycle up to the curb. They were in front of a hole-in-the-wall chili parlor – somewhere Trent visited often when he wanted a quick bite. He shook Raven.

“You can let go, now. We’ve stopped moving.” Raven didn’t respond. Trent leaned over, and could hear Raven mumbling quietly for it all to go away. He shook her again. “Jenny McFrae! We’re not moving anymore! Jenny McFrae!” Still no response. “Raven!” She snapped upright, nearly falling off the back of the motorcycle.

“Don’t you ever call me that again, mister! Do you realize…”

“Calm down. Calm down. I was just trying to get you to respond.” She started to huff out something else, but Trent interrupted her. “Look. Why don’t you come inside and sit down. We can sort this out over some chili.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I am. So come on.” Trent marched in and took a seat at one of the four tables in the establishment. Scowling, Raven sat across the table from him. It wasn’t long before the waitress came over to them.

“Hey Trent! How’s it goin’?” she asked in a cheery voice. She was a sprightly girl of about fifteen, with blazing red hair and the appropriate green eyes and abundant freckles to go with it. Trent smiled and responded with near equal enthusiasm.

“Hi, Violet. Pretty well. You’ve been staying out of trouble?”

“Mostly,” she laughed. “What can I get for you? Two chilies and two smoothies?”

“I’m not hungry,” Raven grumbled.

“Better make it one chili and two smoothies.”

“I’m not thirsty, either,” Raven growled.

“Cheerful thing, isn’t she?” Violet commented. Trent smiled.

“She just finished a motorcycle ride with me.”

“Trent!” Violet exclaimed in mock horror. “It’s snowing out!”

“Exactly,” he replied with an evil grin. “Really, Jenny, you must have a smoothie. Violet makes the best strawberry smoothies in all Jump City.” Raven simply glared at him.

“It’s ok,” Violet whispered in Raven’s ear. “He always drives like that.” Raven almost smiled.

“I’ll have a smoothie, if you all say so.”

“We do indeed,” she said with a smile. It wasn’t long before she returned with the food. “Just shout if you need anything.” When she had gone back into the kitchen area, Trent spoke.

“Violet was my first job on moving to Jump City. Some gang had kidnapped her, and I got her back again.”

“How noble of you.”

“Well, it wasn’t all out of the goodness of my heart. They’ve paid me with chili over the past six years.” He smiled. “But really, Raven…” She glared fiercely. “Nobody’s here. Except maybe Violet. But really, what’s on your mind. You’ve been completely preoccupied all evening.” Raven slowly sipped her smoothie (which was indeed the best she’d ever tasted). After a while, she reached into her coat and pulled out the sketch she’d made before. Showing it to Trent, she asked,

“Have you ever seen this girl before?” It wasn’t long before Trent recognized her.

“Yeah, I have. That’s Samantha Gripes. She lives next door to where…all the excitement happened. How’d you get a picture of her?” Raven tucked it back in her pocket.

“I need to find her.”

“That should be easy enough. May I ask why?”

“I don’t really know. Let’s put it on our to-do list tomorrow.”

“So now it’s our to-do list?”

“We are working together, aren’t we?”

* * *

Cyborg got back to the tower at 11:27. Surprised as he was to not find Raven and Trent there, he was even more surprised that the computer was showing that they had a message on the machine. Nobody knew that number anymore – very few people ever had. He set down his several bags of groceries and played the video-message. What he saw knocked his holographic socks off.

“Hello, Raven. It’s good to see you again. I suppose you’ve been spying on me a long time, haven’t you. You really should do something about that hair. It’s quite striking. Even our ditzy host, Katherine Moth, nearly recognized you. So, I see you’re back. Well guess what. So am I. I’ll be seeing you around.” With that the message cut off. Cyborg played it back again. There was no mistaking it. It was the striking visage and voice of Slade. Cyborg ran several internal computer checks of the message against former communications they had received from the evil mastermind. They all check out at one hundred percent. It was Slade. Cyborg played the message again. Just then, Raven and Trent walked in.

“Oh god,” was all Raven said.


Ok. There you had it. Almost 6,000 new words. Hope you enjoyed it.

7<regor

[Crowgirl]

Okay, here's what I think.

That was definitely worth the wait. The party part of the chapter was awesome. As soon as "Katherine Moth' walked up I knew it was Kitten. Nice way to put her in. :D The politics conversation was also a nice touch, I enjoyed that a lot. Especially this part:

"What did aliens ever do for us, anyway?”

“They did give us a few more thousand years on our fossil-fuel reserves,” Trent answered.

“I didn’t ask you,” Mr. Beecher practically snarled.
That made me laugh. :anime:

Honestly, I was kind of glad that somebody reconized Raven from the hair. I find it so dumb that people don't recognize others by changing their outfits. I mean, who does that in real life? Nobody I know does. But now Slade knows she's back, but he doesn't seem to care about Cy (because he most likely knows). Wonder why?

But Violet, that honestly screams little Starfire to me, even though it's probably not her daughter. The plot thickens....

Overall, great chapter. Can't wait for more!

Ciao,
CG

[Matt A]

Yep, that was worth the wait. Kitten's cameo was top-drawer class, and now that Slade's back publicly things should get a wee bit more exciting. Nice one, bruvva!:anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime:


Ta,
Matt A

PS: I know I should say more, but right now I can't think of anything. Sorry.:crying:

[Sproxie]

*girly squeal* :anime: I love it!!

“And a good sight that did, Adrian. People still don’t trust your “John Paul” after the disaster with Philips.”

“You shut up,” Fischer chuckled. “The people of Chicago know that JP is perfectly safe and they’ve contacted Empire about putting up another.” He grinned in triumph before tossing down his drink. John Paul? Chicago? Never heard of it. There's John Hancock... :shrug:


"But you’ve been to Chicago," another of the men interjected. "Their build quality is awful.

Is not! :p Well, maybe...

That was definitely worth the wait!! I figured out who Katherine Moth was right away. Well, I don't know what to say really, I absolutely loved that chapter! :anime: Makes me glad I chose this story for HoF :)


“Oh god,” was all Raven said.
I loved that last line.

Please write more soon!! :crying:

[Rae]

One less reply needed!

That was a great chapter and well overdue!!!!!!!!!

I liked how you brought Kitten into it! From when you first mentioned 'Katherine Moth' i knew it was her!

Having both Kitten and Slade recognise Raven is a nice touch, i mean, the hair is quite recognisable.

I am looking forward to Samantha's big part in all of this, at the moment she's not doing alot!

Rae

[ShadowOfAGhost]

nice work! I like what you have done with the chapter and it was worth the wait (though it was really long, but that is understandable) sorry it took me so long to get around to reading this. I thought I had found an irregularity, but now that I look back at it, I see where I got confused. aaaaaanyway, nice chapter, great work, and were "Bert and Earnie" Sesame Street inspired? I noticed that you the kitten thing, and the thing about the girl at the shop stuck out some. The red hair and 15 y/o gabbed my attention (meaning she was born in '05). Though I couldn't put my finger on it, CG has a point, (though they would have been forced offf the planet as well, so there goes that theory).

[Kregor8]

Ok, let's see. Bert and Ernie were partially inspired by Sesame Street. The whole original idea came from a "True Crime" thing my grandfather and I saw on TV once (over 2 years ago - my, don't I remember well?). The name Ernie came from Ernie Chambers, Nevada State senator. I was studying a case in Constitutional Law in which he was one of the whatevers. Then I needed an accomplice, and "Bert and Ernie" came right to mind. So I went with it. Ever heard the "Bert is evil" stuff? Pretty funny. Anyway, I won't tell you whether he's evil in this story or not.

I noticed that you the kitten thing, and the thing about the girl at the shop stuck out some. The red hair and 15 y/o gabbed my attention (meaning she was born in '05). Though I couldn't put my finger on it, CG has a point, (though they would have been forced offf the planet as well, so there goes that theory).
Interesting idea...:D Though I can't tell you if your right or not. Really. Cause I don't know for sure yet...:evil:

I am looking forward to Samantha's big part in all of this, at the moment she's not doing alot!
You should see a bit more of her next chapter.

7<regor

[Kregor8]

This is the beginning of the transition period between the first and second halves of the story, so the next few chapters might be a bit hard to write
Well, there's been a change in plans. Allow me to explain:

This week I got my driver's license (finally!) and one of the first things I did (when I was finished running errands for my mother) was stop by the local video rental store and pick up a few films. So, I've spent the past 3 nights watching videos, and have finally come up with a grand new plan.

I've figured out a way to write the entire transition in one chapter, and it will be much better (more exciting, more surprising, more satisfying) than the old plan. It just means it will take another week or so.

I'll try to put references from all the movies into the next chapter too. While I'm at it, I should tell you the other quotes - you know, the ones you couldn't spot!

2) How about the Shakespeare reference? (I love this line. I've been trying to fit it into my story for ages).
3) While we're doing obvious refernces, how about Edgar Allan Poe? It's a two-part allusion.
Ok, I think these were the only two left. Answers:
2) I used the line "music full of sound and fury, signifying nothing" which is what Macbeth says about life ("a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing"). It's my favorite line from Macbeth.

3) Obvious as heck. The club name is "The Last House of Usher." Poe wrote a story called "Fall of the House of Usher" and the guy in the story was the last of his family line (house). It's about his demise, basically, but the title has a double meaning, because at the end of the story, the house itself actually falls. That's what's depicted on the sign for the club. I guess Poe was right - the best place to hide something is in plain sight.

But Violet, that honestly screams little Starfire to me, even though it's probably not her daughter. The plot thickens.... I noticed that you the kitten thing, and the thing about the girl at the shop stuck out some. The red hair and 15 y/o gabbed my attention (meaning she was born in '05). Though I couldn't put my finger on it, CG has a point, (though they would have been forced offf the planet as well, so there goes that theory). :(... That was such an awesome idea. If I had thought of it sooner, I might have used it. But alas, I set her age at 15 without thinking of it. I need her to be younger (planning ahead for the sequel here)...besides, it would mean that Star and Robin had a kid this year. And really...remember, I started this story in 2004, and it was written as 16 years in the future. Now it's only 15 years...but I'll deal with it somehow.

Ok, that's enough for now. I have to read some stories and rush off for a meeting with my boss at 11.

7<regor

[Pookey]

-wipes sweat- DONE! it took me 8 hours to read this and it was worth it!!!! whew, this rocks out loud!!!!

[Kregor8]

Hurray! A new reader! I'm so happy. Glad you enjoyed.

Ok - the new chapter is half written, and the 2nd half is planned out. I should be done soon.

In Mandate news, I have the entire CD finished, and it just needs to go to the copiers. Hurray! Expect more news soon.

7<regor

[Kregor8]

Ok, this took forever to come out. I can't really discuss the reasons right now, but just take it from me that it's not because I was lazy. Hopefully things will start to get better from here on out.

Just a note - I am very unsatisfied with this chapter, but am putting it out because I feel that I've been letting you guys down. If you feel let down, that's ok. Hopefully things will get better from here on, like I said.

Chapter Twelve:


There was no doubt in Raven’s mind. It was all Trent’s fault.

“You and your stupid party!” she screamed at him, when she remembered how to talk. “If I had done things alone like I always used to, this wouldn’t be happening now. I can’t believe…ah!” A bag of groceries flew through the air at Trent, the package of ground beef flying cleanly through his head and splattering on the wall.

“Aw, man. That was gonna’ be lunch tomorrow,” Cyborg muttered. He went to salvage what he could of his purchase, while Raven continued storming at Trent.

“Well, did you have a good time?” he finally asked.

“A good time? A good time?” she shrieked, her eyes glowing dangerously red. “You think this is about “a good time?” This is about all I’ve worked for over the past six years! This is about a perfect alias blown to bits by a fool of a mercenary – who failed his mission anyway!” She grasped Trent by the shoulders and tried to shake him, but he slipped through her grasp and held her at arms length. His eyes were radiating an orange light almost as vivid as Raven’s red.

“Now listen. I didn’t destroy your alias. Nobody has mention Jenny McFrae at all – you were at the party as “Carol Wright.” So it’s a good thing – if you were noticed now, you would have been noticed some other time, when you were Jenny McFrae. In addition to that, I already admitted to failing the mission, and you very graciously didn’t fire me. So don’t bring it up now. Now, did you accomplish anything at all at the party?” For a second, Raven’s eyes flashed from red to bright yellow, and she strained snarling against Trent’s grip. Abruptly, her eyes reverted to normal and her body relaxed. She sighed.

“I’m sorry. It may not be as bad as I originally thought. I shouldn’t have attacked you. Would you let me go?”

“I’ll say you shouldn’t have attacked him,” Cyborg mumbled, picking up the last of his scattered groceries. Muttering to himself, he made his way to the kitchen. Trent released Raven, and she stepped to the answering machine. Pressing play, she reviewed the message, then watched it all again in reverse. Finally, she turned back to Trent.

“Well, there’s nothing to learn from the tape. Slade looks perfectly unchanged, and it’s unmistakably him. I think I…” she trailed off.

“What?”

“I tagged him. The mayor. I put a bug on him when he walked past me. I think it stuck on his neck, so if he showers, it will be ruined. And he could have showered as soon as he go back from the party, but still…” Raven started out of the room.

“Where are you going?” Trent asked.

“The communications room. I want to see if the bug picked up anything.” As they were leaving the room, Raven turned back to Trent.

“By the way, your eyes turned orange just a second ago. I mean, completely orange – radiating light almost. What was that?”

“Oh, that’s part of my mutation. There’s something in my eyes – some chemical or other – and it reacts to an enzyme produced by the body when I’m angry. It glows orange – and I mean glows. I can light up a dark room when I get really angry. I figured you knew about that kind of stuff though. Your eyes do the same. Except I’ve never seen anyone with two distinct colors before…”

“Two colors? What are you talking about?”

“Your eyes were red, then they turned yellow.”

“Oh,” she said, turning away, yet she continued to mutter to herself aloud. “I’m not surprised about the red.” She spoke loudly again. “No, it’s not a chemical.” Raven began to walk out of the room, mumbling to herself. “If Brother Rage triggers the red, then what could…yellow…yellow, what could trigger yellow…”

“Knowledge?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, pounding her right fist into her left hand. “She’s the one who would be yellow. Now, what could she possibly…” Suddenly, Raven stared at Trent. “How did you know that?”

“Know what?” Trent asked. “I said, ‘It’s beyond my knowledge.’ I don’t know, and that was the point.” Raven’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing more, turning down the hall toward Communications. I’m probably just paranoid, she thought.

That’s was too close, Trent thought. Another slip like that, and I’m toast.

* * *

George lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was completely overwhelmed – he had spent what seemed like the past five hours looking through all the martial arts documentation he could imagine. There was one consensus no matter what style you looked at. The masters had devoted their lives to the arts – decades of full-on dedication to become what they were. It was years and countless years of hard work. It took time to learn, time to hone the skills. Time was one thing George did not have.

I need to be good now. I don’t even have the strength training needed to perform these moves. I completely fudged that fight earlier, and Slade knew it. If it had been for real, that spider-bot could have skewered me in seconds. What am I even doing? And so he stared at the ceiling.

* * *

“She certainly is the ‘eat, drink, and be merry’ girl.”

“Mmn, and she’ll end up fat, alcoholic, and miserable.” Katherine Moth had heard that somewhere, but she simply couldn’t place it. Oh well, she thought, tossing back another vodka. We’re almost sort of actually making progress, for once. She looked at the reports in front of her and sighed. Things had really gone downhill since the alien deportations.

“It’s not going to do much good stewing about it.” Kitten didn’t turn, but recognized the even, reedy voice of Henry within the first syllable. She didn’t answer him, but thew a sheaf of papers in his general direction.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Kitten sighed out of exasperation, and swiveled around in her chair, lilting forward and glaring harshly at Henry.

“Does this look like a face that’s busy doing nothing?” she growled, pointing at herself. No, Henry thought, observing the dark lines under her eyes and the haggard expression that was starting to show around the oh-so-crisp edges of Kitten’s public appearance. It’s a face that’s been exhausted doing everything. He had the grace, however, not to answer out loud.

Kitten staggered to her feet and swung her arm wildly, encompassing the entire office – desk, papers, cabinets and all – in one sweeping gesture. “All this is what I’ve been trying to do ever since some fools in New York Frickin’ City took away all my future. You do realize that I lost my top five researchers in that deportation? I’d love to be able to say my cloning project was in the tank, but that would actually be progress! My entire organization has been flushed down the crapper just to please some racist Holes who happen to hold just a little more prestige than I do!” She flopped over in Henry’s direction, and he caught her before she hit the ground. She gave a slightly deranged laugh, and continued. “And then at the beginning of the week, I get a call that my crackpot of a father has – once again – managed to wind his buggy way out of maximum security prison and is wanting my assistance in another “take over the world with bugs” scheme. How fun does it get?”

Henry tried to rebalance Kitten, but she toppled over in another direction, grabbing for him at the last second, and he ended up with her arms locked around his neck, and her breath, smelling heavily of vodka, in his face. “Now I find out Raven is back in town. And if she’s back here, casing my parties, it can only be because she got wind of the cloning program and it trying to shut it down!” She smiled crazily at the genius of her own deduction, and let go of Henry, nearly hitting the ground with a smack before her assistant caught her again.

Henry deposited her back in the chair and waited for her laughing fit to end before he spoke again. It wasn’t long before he got his chance.

“This doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing.” Kitten gave him a look that was a mix of amusement and irritation. Undaunted, Henry continued.

“What if you killed three birds with one stone? You know Raven is back. So use her for your own advantage. Call her up. I’m sure you still have the number. Tell her that your father is out to kill you…”

“Daddy would never hurt me,” she almost pouted.

“So lie. Tell Raven you’re being hunted by Killer Moth – tell her you need protection. If she gives it, you’ll be in her confidence, and the cloning program will be that much safer from her.”

“But…” Kitten objected, “it’ll be right there where she can see it.”

“Ah,” Henry smiled. “What better place to hide something than right in the open?”

“I’m liking the sound of this Henry,” she snickered.

“And while we’re at it, I shouldn’t wonder if we could smuggle a few scientists home. And Robin.” Kitten’s jaw slackened, and she stared dazedly at her appointed guardian. She reached for the vodka bottle and decided to skip the cup, pouring it directly into her mouth. Henry removed the bottle from her grasp.

“There are going to be some conditions, though. If we want to stay with Raven, you’re going to need to give up drinking – for a while, at least.” Kitten almost cracked a smile, and spat the alcohol back at Henry. He didn’t react when the mouthful of vodka and saliva splattered on his face; he merely wiped it out of his eyes and put the cap back on the bottle.

“So, how do I convince Raven – the dreadful, the demon Titan, the one who can’t be fooled – that I’m on the up and up?”

“Demon-titan?”

“It’s called hyperbole, Henry.”

“Fine.”

“Now how do I do it? Advise me,” she grinned viciously.

“I don’t know. There’s only one genius in this room, and it isn’t me.” Kitten laughed.

“Now that’s what I want to hear. Well then, I will fool the dreaded Raven, and come out all the better for it in the end.” She yawned lazily and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. Henry started to leave the room, but was stopped by the sound of Kitten’s fully alert voice.

“You know, Henry, I’m pretty damn hungry. How would you like pizza?” Henry raised his eyebrows.

“You’re aware of how many calories are in a pizza…”

“To hell with the calories! I’m already alcoholic and miserable, I might as well be fat too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. Pepperoni?”

“Sounds fine to me.”

“Well then, let’s go get some.”

* * *

Raven twisted a knob, and the white noise faded to a dull hum. She flipped a switch and a resonant noise started oscillating up and down the scale. Another switch cleared it up to a robotic voice, and a last knob sharpened the sound to human voices – distinct, clear, and ominous.

“If this program is still working, my bug should have been broadcasting for the past two hours, and this computer recorded it. What we’re hearing now is live feed. It’s being recorded too, so we can review it later.”

“Do you have a signal locator on the bug? Can we see where he is?” Trent asked, leaning over Raven’s shoulder.

“Not on the model she used,” Cyborg answered, coming in the doorway. “This particular bug was made for size, and I cut everything out that wasn’t necessary. I planned these for sticking on walls – not people. Anyway – have you been paying attention to this feed?” Everyone’s attention was suddenly fixated on the stream of dialog now coming clearly out of the speaker.

“…just going to take too long.” It was an unfamiliar voice – male, and with a slight tinge of Texas in the vowels.

“Patience is a virtue, young apprentice.”

“Some virtues are better done without.” The second voice laughed. Trent whispered in Raven’s ear.

“I know that voice.”

“Yes, it’s Slade.”

“No, the other voice. I heard it somewhere, but I just can’t place it.”

“All I’m saying is – there has to be a faster way. A better way.”

“Well, George…”

“That’s who it is! George Pents! I…” Raven slapped him upside the head.

“…way. It is faster. It is better. It is not easier. There is no easy out with me.”

“I want it. What is it?”

“Think about it. You can decide tomorrow .”

“Will…will it help me get Samantha back?”

“It can.”

“Then I want it.”

“We will have to change you name, young apprentice. From now on, you shall be called ‘Haste.’”

“That’s a stupid name.” There was a loud crashing noise, and a quiet grunt. Then, the same voice spoke again. “Haste…sounds…good to me.”

“Excellent. I will see you tomorrow.” They heard a door slide shut, some low mumbling, and then a grating sound, followed by silence. The screen where signal information had previously been displayed flashed “Signal lost.”

“Do you think he found the bug?” Trent asked in a low voice.

“It seems like it,” Raven whispered.

“This is an extremely bad thing?” he asked her, noting the unreasonable pallor of her face.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Cyborg said, clapping Trent on the back. “He won’t know what it is. Bill Clinton pulled one of my bugs off his arm once, and nobody ever realized it wasn’t a tick.”

“No offense, Cyborg – I know your bugs are good. But Slade is a whole lot smarter than Secretary General Clinton. Not to mention more devious.”

“Bah!”

“I take it you voted for Clinton?” Trent asked.

“Are you kidding? I was only five in ’92.”

“That’s enough,” Raven commanded. “Now, do you want to review this tape all together, or split it into three parts?”

“I’m all for going to bed,” Cyborg said. “I’ve been workin’ all day and I’ll do a better job in the morning.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll listen with you,” Trent answered.

“Ok then. In the morning, I’m makin’ waffles.” With that, Cyborg went off to bed. Raven pulled a CD from one of the various trays in the communications room and got out of her chair.

“I thought we were reviewing the tape,” Trent commented.

“Let’s take it in the living room. It’s less crowded.”

The living room was indeed less crowded. Where the communications room was a ten foot cube with one spinning chair and countless pieces of transmission gear, the living room had a twenty foot ceiling and was sixty feet wide and eighty feet deep. The windows looking out over the bay offered the most spectacular nighttime view of Old Jump City that could be had from the west side of the bridge. Raven placed the CD in the drive located under the coffee able, and flopped down in the middle of the couch behind it. Trent sat to her right, and she quietly scooted further away from him.

“I don’t suppose we can turn on any lights, can we?”

“No. Just because Slade knows I’m back doesn’t mean the whole city has to.” She started the CD. There was a loud noise, then the system automatically adjusted and the noise became more distinguishable.

“This is just feed from the party. You should fast-forward it,” Trent suggested. Raven growled something, and took his advice. The high speed sound of the crowd was replaced with the whistle and whir of voices. She slowed the feed down and backed it up. A heavily Middle Eastern accented voice was talking.

“Good evening, Mayor Wilson. We have been wondering why you called an emergency meeting, and now we see that Councilman Harmen is not present. Would you please enlighten us to your plans?” The next voice was Slade’s.

“Indeed I will, Councilman Bar-Zaina. In fact, that is the whole reason I called the meeting. As to Councilman Harmen…can anyone here tell me where he is?” There was silence on the tape for a moment, and a new voice spoke.

“At the cemetery?”

“Are you asking, or telling?”

“Telling. Councilman Harmen is dead.”

“Very good Councilman Barker. That leaves only the five of us – Councilman Bar-Zaina, Councilman Barker, Councilman Frisk, and Councilman Vinyard. Now we can get down to business. Gentlemen, Operation Purge is nearing completion. We have received the package. We have the information and the materials to start producing “Arakis,” and the means to distribute it throughout the city. We are currently working on a vaccine and an antidote. The only remaining problem is to set up a timeline. Any questions?”

“Yes,” a new voice spoke. “Could you give us some specifics on the disease?”

Slade answered, “There really isn’t much to say about Arakis. It affects the respiratory system, causing death in a matter of hours. According to the developers, the infected person experiences excruciating pain from the first symptoms until death. Most people die in the second hour, but a few have been known to last for four or five. It is highly contagious, and even the corpses spread the disease. Simulations showed the disease destroying an entire city within a day. Though the results are arguable, the indisputable conclusion is that we have a amazingly devastating disease, and we should complete our mutual goal with no hindrances. Meeting dismissed.”

Raven stopped the feed. She just looked dismally at Trent. He knew what she was thinking. If he had retrieved the package like he was supposed to, they wouldn’t be at this stage now. He bit his lip and stared blankly at the ceiling. Finally, Raven spoke.

“You mentioned that you knew the second voice in the feed we listened to earlier?”

“Yes, it was a kid I met yesterday – George Pents. He lives…lived…across the street from the place where…I was supposed to get the package. I kind of dropped in on him and his girlfriend when I went searching after you got me out of jail. He showed me the room upstairs that the shooter was in. Oh!” Trent jumped up. “Play that part again! The last part before Slade crushed the bug.” Raven fast-forwarded the recording.

“There is another way. It is…” Raven started to fast-forward again. Trent stopped her.

“No, that’s what we want right there. Play from there.”

“Think about it. You can decide tomorrow .”

“Will…will it help me get Samantha back?”

“It can.”

“Then I want it.”

“Ok, you can stop. His girlfriend, Samantha– she’s the girl you showed me the drawing of. The one you wanted to find.” Raven’s face paled.

“You realize what this means?” she asked.

“I…think so.”

“It means now Slade will be looking for her too. Damn that party! We should have been out looking for Sandra…Samantha.” Trent smiled slyly.

“Ah, but Raven, isn’t it true that if you hadn’t gone to the party, we never would have heard this?”

“You’re just trying to get me to say that the party was a good idea, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m just trying to get you to see that you accomplished something tonight.” There was a moment of silence, and then Raven spoke again.

“I’m going to meditate. Good night.” With that, she folded herself into a shadow and disappeared through the roof.

“I should learn to do that, sometime,” Trent muttered to himself as he made his way back to his room. Then, he saw a door marked “Roof.” He paused for a moment, considering his options. He pushed on the door, but it was locked. He stood for a moment longer, then started off down the hall again. Abruptly, he turned around and, taking a deep breath, dashed through the door and up the staircase.

* * *

Samantha slept fitfully, often jumping up and searching the darkness around her for something even darker – the shadow of the night before. Every time she shut her eyes, she could see it in front of her, and if she opened her eyes, she couldn’t tell if it was there or not. Eventually, she would calm enough to sleep a few minutes, before bolting up again and fruitlessly searching the shadows.

It was somewhere past one in the morning, she knew, and she was barely able to keep her eyes open. Somehow, she was able to force them open again, and she saw it. Or, she thought she saw it…she couldn’t be certain in this darkness. Sam squeezed tightly into the space between the ovens where she had hidden that morning, but she could tell that the shadow was looking for her.

She could almost make it out now – a feminine shape with no face at all. It was certainly a solid figure, with arms and a body, but its legs dissipated in a skirt-like mist. The head was similar, in that the hair seemed to flow out to the sides and disperse into the darkness around it. It was darker than the darkness. The other darkness was simply the absence of light – this darkness was, and it terrified Samantha. And it was calling for her.

“Samantha. Samantha Gripes. Samantha,” it whispered. The hair stood up on the back of her neck when she heard it. Sam didn’t stop to wonder how it knew her name – she had already decided it was a spirit sent to punish her for murdering her uncle. She peaked out from between the ovens, and it turned toward her. Samantha catapulted herself out of the space, and sprinted towards the door. She slammed into the bar, activating the alarm. A red light flashed, and she could clearly see the shadow over her shoulder as she dashed down the alley towards the road as fast as she could.

At the road, she turned right and increased her speed. Electricity crackled in the air around her, and her feet flew almost effortlessly. Sam could feel the shadow bearing down on her, and her panic fueled her speed. She looked back over her shoulder and couldn’t see the phantom. She also didn’t see the garbage can in her path, and hit it at full speed, rolling over and over before finally landing in a heap against a wall.

“Well, aren’t you a speedy one?” a nasal voice snickered. Sam tried to spot the speaker, but her vision was still blurred from her impact against the wall. The ear-grating laughter continued as she pulled herself up. Immediately, she spotted the laugher. Standing six feet away was a rough looking man wearing a ratty jacket and a wool ski-cap. In his right hand, he held a dangerous looking knife. Samantha tried to flee, but she was still dizzy from the tumble, and put out her hand to steady herself. To her horror, instead of placing her hand against the wall, her arm was grabbed by another thug and twisted behind her back.

She screamed, and the man grabbed her other arm. His laugh was deeper than his companions, but just as sinister.

“I don’t know ‘bout this one, Six. She’s got white hair.” He laughed again.

“It’s been a while since we did an old one,” Six snickered, stepping toward Sam.

“You bastards,” she growled, pulling against her captor. “I’ll kill you.” Six leaned his stinking face close to Sam’s.

“It don’t seem that you’re in much of a position to do much killin’, little lady.” She spat in his eye, and he snarled.

“You’ll pay for that one, missy.” Six sliced her shirt open from the neck down, drawing blood. To his and his companion’s great shock, when his knife hit Sam’s blackened belt buckle a bolt of electricity jumped through the blade, knocking Six over backwards.

“What the f*** did you just do? Kill her, Four!” he screamed, rubbing his hand. Four let go of Sam’s left arm and twisted her right even harder. He reached in his pocket for his knife.

“Kill her!” Six screamed. Sam thrashed around, doing everything she could think of to make the electricity flow from her fingers as it had before. Suddenly, Sam was free. She heard a gurgling noise behind her, but didn’t turn around. She flew at Six, teeth bared. Still sitting on the ground, he shrieked and tried to backpedal away from her, but it was no use. She landed full on him, her right knee smashing into his crotch, and her hands flying to his throat. Six’s limbs convulsed in a spasm of pain, before he regained control of himself. He twisted over, throwing Sam from him. She landed on her side, and he scrambled over to her, pummeling her in the stomach and chest, his fists getting slick with her blood. He started laughing again, and grabbed for her pants. His fingers were too slick and he couldn’t get a grip. Abruptly, he gasped, then was silent, as a long spike protruded through his heart. With a sucking sound, the weapon was removed, and Six’s body tumbled to the ground with a thud.

Slowly, Sam’s vision cleared, and she could see Six’s killer standing over her. It was a teenage boy, who couldn’t have been much older than fifteen. “Are you alright?” he asked. Sam merely glared. “I mean…” he fumbled, “Did they…”

“No,” she growled, trying to raise herself to her feet. She only succeeded in tumbling over backwards.

“Easy,” he said, helping her up again. “You’ve lost a fair amount of blood, and you’re over exerting yourself. Jeez, can’t anybody be rescued properly anymore?” The boy reached down a hand, but when she reached up to take a grip, streams of electricity crackled up and down her body. The boy stared at her.

“Weren’t you just cut?” he asked in shock. Samantha looked down at her stomach, and indeed, there was no trace of the slash she had received. No blood, no scab, no scar. Just skin – a lot of it.

“Here, give me your shirt,” she demanded. The boy slipped of his black and purple shirt and handed it to Sam. The shirt was tight, but made of a stretchable fabric, similar to a wetsuit. The left breast had a golden “R” on a purple field emblazoned on it. “Who are you, anyway?” she asked.

“Robin.”

[rrarbecy]

I remember saying that the last chapter in DB2 was the most masterful thing I have ever read. This persuades me otherwise. That was perfect in every way. Kitten an alcoholic. HA!

[Matt A]

I remember saying that the last chapter in DB2 was the most masterful thing I have ever read. This persuades me otherwise.
As much as it bruises my ego to have to say so, I must admit that I agree. After a toolengthy absence, Kregor has returned with a chapter that is infinitely better than he realised. This is because of a lot of things, the most important ones being the explanation of exactly what Trent's assignment at the very start was all about (that one had been confusing me for a while, it must be said), the Dune reference (why else would he use "Arakis"?) and the entirely unexpected and entirely awesome introduction of what can only be Robin's son. Genius, my friend!:anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime:

-Matt A-

[Anime]

“Does this look like a face that’s busy doing nothing?”That was my favorite part and the best line.

I know ur gonna hate me for this. But I took you up on that challenge of finding a single spelling/grammar mistake anywhere in your fic. Well, just in case you got too cocky...“Mmn, and she’ll end up fat, alcoholic, and miserable.”Oh well. It happens. Even to the best of us.;) You're still a great writer.

During the summer, are you going to spend a lot of time writing?

[Crowgirl]

After a too lengthy absence, Kregor has returned with a chapter that is infinitely better than he realised. This is because of a lot of things, the most important ones being the explanation of exactly what Trent's assignment at the very start was all about (that one had been confusing me for a while, it must be said), the Dune reference (why else would he use "Arakis"?) and the entirely unexpected and entirely awesome introduction of what can only be Robin's son. Genius, my friend!:anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime:

-Matt A-
Agreed. Bravo!!!!

My favorite part:

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Cyborg said, clapping Trent on the back. “He won’t know what it is. Bill Clinton pulled one of my bugs off his arm once, and nobody ever realized it wasn’t a tick.”

“No offense, Cyborg – I know your bugs are good. But Slade is a whole lot smarter than Secretary General Clinton. Not to mention more devious.”

“Bah!”

“I take it you voted for Clinton?” Trent asked.

:D

Ciao,
CG

[Kregor8]

After a toolengthy absence, Kregor has returned with a chapter that is infinitely better than he realised. I remember saying that the last chapter in DB2 was the most masterful thing I have ever read. This persuades me otherwise.

Agreed. Bravo!!!!
Wow. You guys are too good to me. Anyway, thanks. Now, I'll have to at least do this good with the next chapter, and I should, if things go my way. Also, it's about a third done, so the wait shouldn't be to long.

During the summer, are you going to spend a lot of time writing?
As much as I can. If I don't, when I go to college in the fall, you'd basically hear nothing from me. I somehow doubt that I could be like Matt and pump out amazing writing in high volume and still learn anything at college. Of course, if I wait a semester to go...

Here's my hopeful schedule for the summer.
1: Finish Perfect Vision
2: Finish (and post) Days of Thunder (another TT fic, but not like PV)
3: Write "Humanity," a SciFi story that I have the idea for.
4: Write "Future Man," another SciFi.
That should fill me up. But if I have more time, I want to do another TT fic (can't tell you anything about it except that it is tenatively titled "The Willows") and a collection of one-offs that come cronologically after PV, but can be read seperatelly. Seem ambitious enough?
7<regor

[Rae]

“So, how do I convince Raven – the dreadful, the demon Titan, the one who can’t be fooled – that I’m on the up and up?”

“Demon-titan?”

“It’s called hyperbole, Henry.”
Lol! That was hilarious

Loving where this is going!

About Robin....the purple and black stretchy top makes me think he has something to do with Beast Boy....or that just could be me, as star used to wear purple

Rae

[Matt A]

Also, it's about a third done, so the wait shouldn't be to long.
Funnily enough, you said that last time...:p

I somehow doubt that I could be like Matt and pump out amazing writing in high volume and still learn anything at college.
And you know how I manage that? I don't learn anything at college!:sweat: :sweat: :sweat:

Here's my hopeful schedule for the summer.
1: Finish Perfect Vision
2: Finish (and post) Days of Thunder (another TT fic, but not like PV)
3: Write "Humanity," a SciFi story that I have the idea for.
4: Write "Future Man," another SciFi.
That should fill me up. But if I have more time, I want to do another TT fic (can't tell you anything about it except that it is tenatively titled "The Willows") and a collection of one-offs that come cronologically after PV, but can be read seperatelly. Seem ambitious enough?
Yep. Personally, I'll consider myself lucky if I even get DB2 finished before I start uni in September: then again, it is going to be an epic...:cool:

-Matt A-

[Sproxie]

Finally!!!! A new chapter! It was of course, great, very descriptive, the plot is awesome... and all those great comments people have already said before me. Your a genius. :D

The new Robin...? Hmmm, at first i thought it would be Tim Drake, (Or one of the many Robins) But then Matt said, and the entirely unexpected and entirely awesome introduction of what can only be Robin's son. and now i dunno what to think.....

My favorite part:

Quote:
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Cyborg said, clapping Trent on the back. “He won’t know what it is. Bill Clinton pulled one of my bugs off his arm once, and nobody ever realized it wasn’t a tick.”

“No offense, Cyborg – I know your bugs are good. But Slade is a whole lot smarter than Secretary General Clinton. Not to mention more devious.”

“Bah!”

“I take it you voted for Clinton?” Trent asked.


:D

Ciao,
CG
That was also my favorite part. :anime:


Quote:
Originally Posted by Kregor, part one
Also, it's about a third done, so the wait shouldn't be to long.


Funnily enough, you said that last time...:p
He's got a point..... But still try and post the next chapter soon!!

[Pookey]

-stares w/ jaw on floor- duuuuuuuuude -mind goes blank trying to think of somethign to say-.............-my mind walks in and sees me- oh brother, ok whats shes trying to say is that ch was freakin aweomse and u cant leave suspense hanging like that b/c its just wrong and she cant wait for your next ch b/c she loves this fic -my mind walks off grumbling-...ya..what it said...

[Kregor8]

Ok, so you all loved chapter 12. Frankly, I was a bit disappointed with it at times. Still, I'm willing to admit now that it was way better than I thought. Chapter 13 is different, though.

1st: It's shorter than what you've come to expect from me. Falling 60 words short of 4,000, it's just shy of the minimum length I like to set for myself. It's also siginfigantly shorter than the 5,000-6,000 that I usually end up with (ie: Chapter 12)

2nd: There's only one scene. Though I do flip back and forth between viewpoints once, and I book-end it with another "scene," there is only one real event in this chapter.

3rd: Uh...I don't think there were any pop-culture references. Here's the list I meant to put up for the last chapter.
1. A quote from "Rear Window." Hint: It's something someone thinks.
2. A quote from "Shrek." Hint: It's something someone says.

Other than that, it's a crapload of character development (what else is new?), and is importaint to the story. I'm feeling that this is some of my strongest work in a while. You don't have to agree, but I still like it a whole bunch.

Oh yeah: Those "..."s in the middle of sentences in a certain scene in the middle of the chapter? Those are pauses in conversation. You'll understand when you get there.

Chapter 13



She was gone. Once again, the girl had escaped from her. Raven fumed inwardly, slowly loosing focus. Today had been nothing but trouble. She felt a slight pain in her chest and the city flashed by her eyes in an instant as her mind collided with her body. Raven had lost focus. She opened her eyes and stood up. Looking out at the city, Raven sighed. She hadn’t lost focus like that in years. Slowly, she unclenched her fist and turned around. To her surprise, Trent was standing quietly behind her.

She didn’t speak to him, nor did she move, but she could feel her fist balling up again. They stood there for a minute, facing each other. The wind whipped across the top of the tower, blowing Raven’s long hair in front of her eyes. Trent was still looking at her, and she nearly reached back to flip her hood over her head in that oft practiced motion before she realized she wasn’t wearing the cloak. Finally, Trent spoke.

“I’m sorry. I knew you wanted to be alone. I just…felt drawn,” he said. Raven thrust her hands into her pants pockets, forcibly uncurling the fingers out of sight.

“No, it’s alright,” she responded coolly. “I’m alone most of the time.”

“You did leave me in disgust before,” Trent returned, cocking one eyebrow.

“I was…frustrated.” Trent walked over to the edge of the tower and leaned on the short railing.

“And this is where you come to relieve your frustration?” She nodded. “Frustration with me?” he asked.

“More or less.”

“Which is it?”

“Less,” Raven said dryly. The smallest of smiles flicked across Trent’s face. “I was looking for that girl.” Trent looked out at the city lights reflecting serenely on the bay. “I found her briefly, but she got away from me.” Trent still did not answer, so Raven continued. “That doesn’t normally happen. It’s almost like there’s something about her that repels my shadow-self. Like she can keep me away. And that frustrates me.” Raven paused, and Trent nodded in recognition that he was still listening. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” she muttered, walking over to the rail beside Trent.

“Maybe you just need someone to listen to you,” he responded softly. Raven snorted. “You never know.”

“Maybe you need somebody to listen to you,” she said snidely. Trent smiled.

“Are you offering?” Raven seemed put out.

“No.”

“No?” She stared at him. She had been perfectly clear. What was his problem?

“Do you want to say anything yourself?” she finally asked him.

“It is quite restful up here, isn’t it?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Trent’s brow furrowed, and he ran his fingers through his hair and didn’t reply. He listened to the sounds of the city several thousand feet away – the engines, the sirens, the music, the voices, all degenerating into one pervasive noise. He shut his eyes and tried to place himself back in his apartment, doing some habitual task, but he couldn’t. The image was just too blurred.

“You’re trying too hard,” he finally whispered.

“What?” Raven asked softly.

“See you in the morning, Raven,” he answered, and went back into the tower. Raven stared after him. She had heard him quite plainly – she just didn’t believe what he had said. She couldn’t believe it, she told herself, and folded her legs under in meditation stance. It was time to try again.

* * *

Samantha and “Robin” sat on a overturned barrel in the alley. Samantha stared blankly at the opposite wall, and Robin rested his chin in his hand as he thought. Eventually he spoke.

“So, you killed your uncle – but you’re not sure how you did it. The police are after you, and so is some sort of shadow-figure.”

“Avenging angel.”

“We can’t be sure about that yet – let me finish. You don’t have a place to stay, and at apparently random times, you become a human dynamo, dousing all around you in powerful electrical current. That about it?”

“Yeah,” Samantha sighed.

“Well then,” Robin said cheerfully, standing up and stretching. “That doesn’t seem too bad. I think I can get you a place to stay tonight. You ready to go? I’m just a tad cold out here,” he said. “Besides, that shirt doesn’t fit you very well.”

“Hello? What part of ‘I killed my uncle and the police are looking for me’ don’t you understand? Cause I’ll do my best to explain to you what that means, if you’re that clueless.” She waved her arms in an exasperated manner. Robin’s eyes narrowed.

“If you didn’t notice, I just killed a couple of thugs myself. And trust me, if my parents ever found out, I’d be grounded for a…well, forever, practically. Now, if you want, I’m sure my sister will let you stay with her tonight.”

“And the electricity?” Robin flexed his arms and tensed his muscles as much as he could. Purple bolts of energy jumped across his body, streaming from every pore on his bare chest and arms, practically covering him with a new shirt. “Very Dragonball,” she mumbled. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You don’t think that I didn’t randomly spew energy when I was learning to control my powers, do you? I don’t think that any random sparks should be much of a problem.” Samantha sighed.

“Fine, I’ll come with you.”

“Then let’s go.” Robin darted towards the wall of the alley, and deftly leapt up the fifteen story structure to the roof, leaving Samantha gaping at the bottom.

“How do you expect me to do that?” she shouted up to him.

“Oh, sorry,” Robin said, dropping back next to her. “Here, I’ll help you. Jump as hard as you can when I say so. Now!” Samantha jumped, and felt herself hauled upwards by the arm. They landed lightly on the roof, and she rubbed her arm.

“How far do we have to go? I don’t know how much more of that I can take.”

“Not far, just a couple blocks. Don’t worry, we won’t jump up any more buildings.”

“What are we doing then?”

“Jumping from roof to roof.”

* * *

It was an exhilarating trip for Samantha, no matter how much her arm may have protested. At each roof edge, they leapt, and Robin would pull her across the gap. They would land running, and tear to the next edge, flinging themselves off to start over again. Between leaps, they managed to gasp out a conversation.

“…so, I’m not really fully human. That’s why I can…” They leapt. “…do the things I can. My sister and mother can both fly.”

“You mean this isn’t…” Leap. “…flying?”

“Nah, it just seems like it. I can only hold myself in the air quite briefly.” Once again, they exploded into space, over a hundred feet above the ground. “It’s enough so that I can jump extreme distances.” Their conversation fell into the rhythm of the broken flight, pausing for each jump, and resuming again when their feet hit the next roof.

“So what species are you, if you’re not…human?”

“My mother was a Tamaranian. You…know of the planet?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ve only been their once. But everybody…can fly. And the nobility can fire “bolts” of energy from their hands…like my mother. She was actually royalty on Tamaran.”

“You’re…kidding.”

“Nope. She was the empress of Tamaran for all of two hours. Then she turned the rule…over to this old guy, Galfore. He’s the current emperor. She left the planet to marry…my father. I’m sure you know of him. He was the original Robin.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Serious as…hell. I’m a Teen Titan by heritage. Or, I will be.”

“Will?”

“I’m only twelve.” Samantha nearly missed the jump, she was so shocked.

“I thought you were at least fifteen!” she managed to gasp out.

“Everyone thinks that. It’s one of the benefits of being a mixed breed, I guess.” Once again, they crossed the gap, but Samantha noticed that they were now jumping from shorter buildings to higher ones.

“I have a question. Why are you so reckless in what you tell perfect strangers?” Robin laughed.

“I guess it’s one of my faults. I don’t tend to keep my lip zipped around pretty girls.” Now it was Samantha’s turn to laugh, but there was no mirth in her voice. “I kind of count on my sister to…uh…clean things up for me. Sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I guess it’s only fair to tell you,” Robin started again, their conversation broken regularly for a flying leap from roof to roof. “She has the power to erase peoples’ memories. Kind of like in Men in Black. You know, the little red flasher?”

“Oh,” Samantha replied quietly.

“Yeah. Like I said, sorry.” There was a moment of silence as they leapt to another roof. “By the way, my sister is having a bit of what you might call an identity crisis. It bothers her that we’re ‘half-breeds.’ So she mostly pretends that she’s a normal human. She even has a job at a little chili parlor in the city.”

“And you’re thinking that she won’t turn me in? When she doesn’t even accept her own abnormalities?”

“Oh, that’s not an issue,” Robin tried to reassure her. “It’s only her own self she had issues with. I’m just warning you to not bring her ‘mixed’ origin up with her.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“And don’t call her Goldfire. Call her Violet.”

“Ok, ok.”

“Here, this is where we stop.” They came to a screeching halt at the edge of a particularly high building, and Robin pointed at one of the windows three floors down. “That’s where we’re heading – it’s my sister’s room.”

“Won’t she be upset if we just drop in?”

“I doubt it,” Robin shrugged. “She doesn’t get scared easily.”

That wasn’t exactly what I meant, Sam thought, glancing at her companion, who was about to fling himself from the ledge. Standing on the edge, Samantha finally noticed the small cylinder hanging from his belt. So that’s where he put his weapon, she noted. But then time for consideration was over, as Robin hurled himself from the ledge and pulled Samantha after.

They plummeted toward the open window, and Samantha could tell they weren’t going to make it. Robin must have not calculated her mass when he jumped from the ledge. Maybe he had expected her to jump as well. They were streaking toward the hard concrete road twenty stories bellow, and Samantha was willing to bet that this was the last time she would look at Jump City.

At what seemed the last possible moment, Robin’s hand caught on something, and their velocity abruptly shifted towards the original targeted window. Sam looked up, and could tell that Robin’s hand was closed over something, but she couldn’t see it. He must have had a wire there that she didn’t know about. That was why he had jumped where he had. Reaching the apex of the swing, Robin nimbly alighted on his sister’s window sill.

* * *

Goldfire was lying on her bed as she did every night, awake again at whatever ungodly hour it was. She didn’t sleep heavily, and regularly woke several times during the night. This was the third time this night that she had been disturbed from sleep, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. She hadn’t slept well the past few weeks – something was nagging at the back of her mind. Or maybe it was the recent surgery that she had on her eyes.

Goldfire dragged herself off her bed and stumbled over to the mirror. She wasn’t pleased with what she saw. She ran her fingers through her long red hair, and pulled it back behind her head and fasted it with a small black scrunchie. She stared deep into the eyes of her reflection – thank Xäl for modern medicine that had replaced her hideous yellow eyes with these deep green ones – and snarled at herself.

“You’re a pathetic mess, you know that, Violet?” she asked. She didn’t expect an answer, and didn’t receive one. Still, she knew what her twin brother would tell her: “We are what we are for a purpose. So, you can either use your talents, or you can waste them.” She knew full well how he felt, and that was why she had made the Robin costume for him. Still, she wasn’t about to become a crime-fighter herself. Those days had passed before her lifetime.

There were two windows in her room, and Violet walked to the furthest of these, pulling up the glass and stepping out onto the foot wide ledge. Sinking into the darkest corner, she quietly sighed and let the cold October wind blow over her. She had nearly fallen asleep again when her brother landed on the window ledge opposite her.

“So, the conquering hero has returned,” she snickered, standing up and stepping into the light.

* * *

They stood on the window sill and Robin rapped on the glass. Samantha heard a derisive voice coming from the window ledge to their right, and turned to see who had spoken. Out of the darkness stepped a lanky girl clad in small black shorts and a tight white T-shirt. Her most distinctive feature was her blazing red hair, complemented by her deep green eyes. She seemed to emanate antagonism, and her brilliant white teeth just added to the sinister appearance of her sneer as she spoke.

“So, the conquering hero has returned.” Robin too turned, but he did not seem taken aback by the girl’s apparent hostility.

“So he has. Good morning, Goldfire. Going out yourself?”

“Violet,” she growled, but her most of the animosity seemed to melt out of her posture and expression. “Rather cold, Timmy?” she added almost as an afterthought. Robin nimbly leapt to his sister’s ledge and got right in her face.

“No, actually, I was hot.” He lunged at her and began tickling her without mercy. Violet seemed completely helpless before the flying fingers of Tim, and, gasping for breath, toppled from the ledge. Samantha gasped as the girl plunged toward the ground, but she had barely fallen three stories when she effortlessly flew back to the ledges. This time, however, she landed on Samantha’s ledge.

“And who is this?” Violet asked, poking Sam in the chest.

“A very interesting girl who I saved from a couple of thugs.” Violet’s eyebrows rose slightly.

“I hope you weren’t thinking I’d help you hid her from mom and dad, were you?” Robin’s face fell slightly.

“Actually…”

“I thought so. You didn’t kill them, did you?” Robin crossed back over to the girls’ ledge.

“Mom says it’s wrong to suppress the righteous fury,” Tim answered angrily. Violet immediately shot back,

“And Dad says it’s wrong to give in to blood lust.” The two siblings glared at each other for a few seconds, before they simultaneously smiled. Violet turned to Samantha.

“Let’s go in,” she said, gesturing to the open window seven feet away. Samantha looked down to the ground almost two hundred feet away, and shrank back against the building.

“I’d rather not jump that far,” she said quietly.

“Suit yourself.” Violet and Tim both crossed over to the other ledge and stepped inside, closing the window after them. Samantha swallowed. She was out on a ledge all by herself, with no way down…the window behind her opened, and Violet stuck her head out.

“Coming in?”

* * *

Violet actually wasn’t nearly as hostile as she had at first appeared. She allowed Samantha to have the bed, and she lounged on a bean-bag chair. The clock read 3:50 AM, and Tim quietly related her story to his sister then left for his own room, taking his Robin shirt with him. Violet lent Sam a shirt that, while a little tight, was much better than what she had, which was nothing.

“So,” Samantha said quietly, “You’re going to erase my memory of all this, aren’t you.”

“That’s the plan,” Violet answered nonchalantly.

“Why?”

“To protect our safety, of course. Tim may have lost all sense of self-preservation, but I certainly haven’t. There are several parties who must never learn about his “Robin” exploits. Number one: criminals. Number two: the police. And most importantly, number three: our parents. I’m fairly certain they still engage in a little crime fighting Saturday nights when they “go out to dinner.” But Dad would probably not approve of either of us running the same risk, and there is no way he would approve of Tim’s hack-and-slash methods.”

“And you?”

“I tolerate him. We’re twins, and the only two of our kind. We have to help each other out. I produced his suit and clean up all his loose ends for him, he provided the money for my cornea transplant.”

“You were blind?”

“No, I had yellow eyes.” Samantha could hear the hostility in Violet’s voice, and remembered Robin’s warning. She didn’t press the matter.

“I suppose I’m one of his “loose ends,” aren’t I?” Violet made a slight noise of ascent. “And my knowing the fact doesn’t make any bit of difference?”

“Not really.”

“That stinks.”

“How so?”

“You’ll both know everything about me, and I won’t even remember that you exist. Doesn’t that sound a little unfair to you?”

“Life is full of unfairness.”

“Life sucks.”

“I agree. But I plan to make the most from mine, handicaps not withstanding. I advise you to do the same.” Sam looked at the clock. 4:10.

“Don’t you sleep?” she asked her host.

“Not much.” Suddenly, she sat bolt upright. “My god, what is that?” Samantha gasped. Sitting in the window was the shadow-woman that had been chasing her everywhere. This time, however, instead of being terrified, Sam was furious. How dare the shadow follow her here? Did it dare bother her rescuer or his sister? It wouldn’t when she was around, she immediately decided. Raising both her hands in front of her, she advanced on the shadow.

“What the hell are you doing?” Violet asked, leaping up. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” Samantha wasn’t listening. She lunged at the window and the phantom sitting in it, and shouted. Massive arcs of electricity poured from her fingers, blasting the shadow off its perch and sending it to oblivion somewhere beyond Sam’s sight. Or so she hoped.

Unfortunately, now that she had unleashed her power just when she needed it, she could not stop it when she no longer found use for the bolts. Having lost there original target, they danced wildly across the walls, crackling and sizzling with a vengeance. Shouting at her, Violet somehow absorbed several of the bolts into her hands, but she was not able to completely stop them from damaging the room. The noise was becoming fierce, and the Robin burst in the door, also shouting.

Suddenly, there was a different fizzling noise, and the smell of ionized air became even more powerful as a green mass of energy flew through the air and struck Samantha in the back. She toppled to the floor, the outpouring finally stopped.

Behind her in the doorway stood an extremely tall woman. She was wearing dark red silk pajamas and her red hair, which was extraordinarily similar to Violet’s, tumbled freely about her shoulders. The air in front of her outstretched hand smoked, and her eyes glowed a harsh green. Considering the scene she had just witnessed, her voice was incredibly calm when she spoke.

“Goldfire, what is going on?” Violet stared blankly and didn’t answer. A man, somewhat shorter than the woman, but of heavier build, stepped into the doorway beside the woman.

“Goldfire, answer your mother. What is going on?”

“There was a…ghost in the window,” she answered softly.

“A ghost? What ghost? In our house? Goldfire, be clear.”

“We…” she stumbled, “were sitting here, in my room, and a shadowy figure appeared in the window. So, she attacked it, and it got away. Then you came in.”

“Yes, and who is this?” the man said, pointing to Samantha. Sam staggered to her feet, and faced the two adults in the door.

“Excuse me. My name is Samantha. I was not meaning to damage your apartment. I apologize.”

“Apology accepted,” the woman answered, “but who are you, and what are you doing here? Besides what you have already told us, of course.”

While the woman was speaking to Sam, Violet was oh-so-subtlety moving toward her parents. Sam opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a syllable, Violet lunged at the adults, arms outstretched. A flash of yellow light enveloped them all, and Sam rubbed her eyes. When she looked back, the two adults were standing side by side in the hallway, and Violet was standing in the doorway, facing them.

“Nothing happened tonight,” she intoned in an ominously deep voice. “You did not hear any unusual noises. You did not leave your room. There was not a strange person in Violet’s room. You will sleep soundly for the rest of the night.” Her parents turned and marched, zombie-like, into their room and shut the door. Samantha gaped at the girl as she reentered the room.

“They won’t come out again tonight. I advise you get some sleep. You’ll have to leave first thing tomorrow morning. Tim, go to bed.” Her brother nodded and quickly left the room, shutting the door behind him. Violet walked over to Sam, who was now visibly shaking.

“Are you alright?” Violet asked in a concerned voice.

“I’m per…per…perfectly fine,” she stammered, but she couldn’t eliminate the feeling of terror that had suddenly gripped her. She was helpless, she realized. Running from an unknown terror, she had come upon another, more terrible one. She shrank back from Violet’s outstretched hand, and hugged herself, trying to stop the shivering.

Violet’s face showed concern, and she reached out again for Sam. “Sam, it’s alright. You don’t have anything to be afraid of anymore. You’re safe.” Sam let out a crazed laugh.

“Safe? Safe? I’ll never be safe. Not with you. Not with anyone.” She cackled madly.

“Sam, what are you talking about?” Violet took a step toward the shaking girl.

“Stay away!” she commanded, stepping backward and tripping over the bean bag chair. She fell to the ground with a thunk, but couldn’t stop laughing; didn’t stop holding herself; wouldn’t get up again. Violet knelt down next to her and laid her hand on Sam’s convulsing body.

“Sam, please. I need you to talk to me. What’s bothering you. We beat the shadow! You’ll be safe through the night.” Sam stopped laughing and stared unblinkingly at the girl attempting to comfort her.

“You commanded them. You told them what to do and what to think, and they did it. You are terrible.” With that, her eyes snapped shut and she fell asleep. Violet sank down on her bed, hugging her body and rocking back and forth, just as Samantha had done. Only, the sounds emanating from Violet were not shrieks of laughter. They were sobs.

* * *

She had it. She finally had a key – a link to the girl. She had seen her in a room. A room somewhere in the city, she didn’t know where. But the key was who she had seen with her. The girl from the chili shop. The girl in the drawing was with the girl from the chili shop. And Trent knew where that girl lived. Trent Touren was her key to the girl. Raven smiled. He was finally becoming useful.

[Rae]

That was great! And we finally meet Star and Robin!

Goldfire scares me...she erased the minds of her parents...that's scary...

Anyway, That was great, and i look forward to more. I would say something constructive, but i can't think of anything to say, it was that good!

Rae

[Matt A]

Yeah, I too liked that muchly. Violet kinda scares me too, but considering the last line we have with her, she doesn't scare me as much as you might think. Plus the moment about half-way through when I figured out that Violet and the girl who served Reven and Trent in the restaurant a few chapters back were the same person almost made my evening (only almost because it had kinda already been made, if you get my meaning). So, yeah, that was cool, and at least the plot can start moving on apace now. Good work!:anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime:

-Matt A-

[Pookey]

haha sweet! that was aweosme! Goldfire seems..well..weirdish/freaky/cool in a good way...kinda...i think..ya

Robin and Sar rock on!!!!!!!! yaaaaaa im happy

[Anime]

OMG! Once again, another stellar chapter from he who is the Kregor. Just like last time, flawless grammar -- it seems you really take the time to make it perfect for the audience. Whoa! I just got the title -- Perfect Vision! Wow! Because like the grammar is perfect for our eyes and thus is like perfect vision...:eek: Cool. Just cool.Hello? What part of ‘I killed my uncle and the police are looking for me’ don’t you understand? Bahahahhaha! That was so funny! Gosh the peoples on this forum are some of the most comedic minds that have ever... er... come up with funny stuff... er... ever! Ha ha! Whoosh! I bet Kregor is like right now wondering if anyone got the million-plus jokes he put in this fanfiction!!!:anime:

Violet is super cool (but really creepy)! But why is she not to be called Goldfire? Goldfire's a cool name. I speculate that it is probably because I have no idea how stupid I yam. Or, it's that it reminds her of her past. I could have been paraphrasing.:shrug:

And no, I'm not going to die from the shortness of the chapter. I actually didn't think that was short at all. But, I have yet to discover my own stupidity in and of itself when I think of some other stuff to say to this fanfiction that written in a perfect vision to be easy on our eyes.

[Crowgirl]

Yeah, I too liked that muchly. Violet kinda scares me too, but considering the last line we have with her, she doesn't scare me as much as you might think. Plus the moment about half-way through when I figured out that Violet and the girl who served Reven and Trent in the restaurant a few chapters back were the same person almost made my evening (only almost because it had kinda already been made, if you get my meaning). So, yeah, that was cool, and at least the plot can start moving on apace now. Good work!:anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime:

Yup, yup, yup!! :)

[Anime]

I already posted a review I just am waiting for the awesomeness of kregor ate to give us more sugary goodness.:D I mean a new chapter. duh.:p

[Kregor8]

Notice that the link is still there Quite. :D

Your avatar is quite possibly the coolest one I've ever seen
Well, I guess that's cause the Matrix has me. :p

Anyway, I figure it's about time to push this thing to page 15. Chapter 14, red hot. Right here, right now. Dig it, people. Oh yeah, this may look like the longest chapter I've written, but that's just because I decided to stop using 10pt font and move up to 12pt. It's easier on the eyes, don't'cha know.

* * * * * *
Chapter 14
Cyborg rose late, as he usually did on Sunday, and leisurely made his way to the large living room and adjacent kitchen of Titans’ Tower. There were slight signs that Trent and Raven had already been through here – there were dishes in the drying rack and two of the chairs were pulled away from the table – but nobody in sight. Cyborg yawned lazily and opened the fridge.

“Guess they didn’t want to wait up for me,” he mumbled to himself as he removed eggs and milk from the refrigerator. He checked his internal clock. 12:00 PM. It wasn’t too late for waffles, he decided, and pulled out the waffle iron. It was then that he noticed a red blinking light in the lower left corner of his vision – he had a new message. Maybe it was Raven or Trent. Maybe both. He hesitated for a moment, then decided. It could wait until after breakfast.

* * *

Trent had wakened early – Raven got up earlier. In fact, Raven was the reason Trent got up when he did. She had claimed that she had a mission for them – Trent stated that they needed breakfast. So he had fixed some eggs that they had hastily eaten, and they scrambled down to the garage. Here, however, they met with some difficulty.

“We can’t take the motorcycle, it snowed last night,” Raven immediately stated.

“I don’t have anything else to drive.”

“You don’t own a car?”

“No.”

“What did you do in the winter?”

“It doesn’t snow too much in Jump City. Not like in New York.” Raven frowned. “Ok, ok. I borrowed a car sometimes, from a friend.”

“Can you borrow one now?”

“No.” Trent gave a reason, but Raven wasn’t listening to it. Instead, she was eyeing Cyborg’s car. It didn’t take long for Trent to notice. “Don’t even think of it. I’m not stealing his car.”

“We’re not going to steal it. We’re going to borrow a car from a friend.” Trent frowned.

“Without asking?”

“I’ll ask when we get back. Besides, he won’t be getting up for hours.” Trent threw up his arms in surrender.

“I hope you don’t ever need to borrow a motorcycle.” He walked over to the car and looked for the door handle. Raven shook her head.

“I’m driving,” Raven said, producing a set of keys from her pocket.

“You drive?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you have a car, then?”

“No.”

“What do you do when you need to go somewhere?”

“I borrow a car sometimes,” she said, opening the car door with the remote. “From a friend,” she added with a wicked smile. Trent simply sighed and got in the passenger seat.

So, they had borrowed Cyborg’s car. Raven hadn’t told Trent much about what she had seen last night, but she had told him enough to find out where the girl from the chili parlor lived. It was about ten minutes from Titans’ Tower if you hit the lights right. Twenty minutes if you hit them wrong, as they happened to do. Trent shifted from side to side in his seat and drummed with his fingers on the door. After the third light, Raven snapped at him.

“Stop it!”

“I’m sorry,” he whined. “I’m a really bad passenger. I can’t ride in cars – I get all jittery.”

“I noticed,” Raven growled. She gestured with her right hand and muttered, “Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos,” and the seatbelt wrapped itself around Trent like a rope, holding his arms fast to his sides.

“Hey!” he complained.

“Deal with it.” The rest of their ride was uneventful.

* * *

George waited restlessly for Slade. He paced back and forth in his small room. He tried to read a book about urban warfare tactics, but he could not focus. Slade had offered him a faster way – a better way. But he knew nothing about it, except that it would help him reclaim Samantha. He got up again and walked slowly around the room. That was all he needed to know – that Samantha would soon be back with him. Hadn’t Slade told him so? He paused in for a moment, trying to remember.

Now that he thought about it, he didn’t think that was what his new master had said. He had said that he would give George “what he always wanted.” Still, it amounted to the same thing. George determined to keep alert for betrayal. He hadn’t considered the idea before. He cursed himself for so quickly believing what Slade had told him. After he had Samantha again, they would have to somehow get away from Slade. Still, George needed Slade to get to Sam.

The door slid silently open, and Slade stepped into the room. George has his back turned, and did not notice his entrance. When Slade spoke, George started, spinning around quickly, then trying to act like he had know the man was there all along.

“Have you considered my offer?” Slade asked.

“Of a better, faster way?”

“Yes.”

George hesitated for a moment, reflecting on how little he knew about this new plan. Then, in his mind, he saw Samantha’s terrified face as it had appeared right before she had left. He made up his mind. “I’ve decided to take it.”

“Good,” Slade nearly purred. “Follow me.” George shivered. Why was it that every time Slade said those words, it seemed more ominous than before? Still, he followed Slade out of the room and down the hall.

At the end of the hallway, they turned right and continued down a second hall. They reached a staircase, which they descended to another passage, and then climbed up a second staircase. Why go down if we’re only going up again? George thought to himself, but George didn’t dare ask, and Slade didn’t offer an answer. In fact, he hadn’t spoken at all since he told George to follow him.

“Do you play video games?” Slade suddenly asked, surprising George.

“I’ve been to the VR arena several times,” he answered.

“No,” Slade said, stopping to open a door. “I mean video games, like Nintendo and Sony and Microsoft.” George tried to keep his voice steady as he stepped into a room filled with ominous looking machines surrounding what appeared to be a surgical table.

“No, those systems have been out of date for years. Why?” Slade approached a strange control panel and began twisting knobs and flipping toggles.

“Around the turn of the century, there was a popular video game named Deus Ex. In that game, the player’s character was a soldier in an anti-terrorist organization. The game was significant from a gamer’s standpoint for several reason, but the facet of the game that applies to you is that the soldier was enhanced by a technique known as “nano-augmentation.” Through various “bio-mod” implants, he could be stronger, faster, and more powerful than any other man in the world.” Slade threw a switch and lights lit on various pieces of machinery all around the room.

“Why is that significant for me?” George ventured.

“Because,” Slade answered, moving to a keyboard and inputting various commands, “some intrepid researchers developed the technology, not only in the game, but for practical use. Here, drink this,” Slade commanded, handing George a glass filled with a gelatinous blue material.

“And you’re going to enhance me with these ‘augmentations’?” he asked, drinking the contents of the glass, which tasted like burned rubber.

“Yes.”

“What will this change?” George asked, shaking his head to clear his blurry vision.

“Everything,” Slade intoned. With that, the world went black.

* * *

Trent knocked on the door. They had already agreed that Trent should speak to Violet’s parents, and then once they were speaking to her, Raven would ask her about the girl. Raven had felt that this way would cause the least distress for Violet’s parents. Raven was standing several feet behind Trent when the door opened, and she couldn’t see clearly inside.

“Oh hello, Trent,” she heard a cheery voice say. It was strange, Raven thought. She could almost swear she had heard that voice before. She musthave a lot on her mind.

“Good morning, Kori. Is Violet at home?” Raven’s jaw dropped, and she pushed Trent aside. How had she not realized sooner? She must have a lot on her mind.

“Starfire?” she asked as soon as she saw the woman in the doorway. But it wasn’t really a question. Raven had spent the majority of her life living in the same building as the woman standing before her, and she had no doubts at all about the identity of Violet’s mother.

“Raven?” Starfire responded. Raven nodded and Starfire let out a squeal of delight, pulling Raven through the door and grasping her in a crushing Tamaranian hug. “Friend Raven, it has been such a long time! It was so nice of you to come and see us!” Trent quietly stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“Actually,” Raven choked out, “I didn’t even know you were here.” Starfire let go of her friend and stepped back.

“Didn’t know?” Raven smiled slightly and shook her head. “Then,” Starfire struggled, “Why are you here? Robin will be very sad to hear that you did not want to see him.” Raven laughed aloud.

“Of course I want to see him! And I’m delighted to see you again. I just didn’t expect to find you here.” Starfire’s face broke into an enormous grin, and she clapped with her hands and knees in that peculiar way of hers. “Come! Come, let’s go see everybody. Robbie!” Raven and Trent obediently followed the alien woman into the kitchen, where a man was sitting at the small round table eating a bagel and reading the paper. Starfire dashed over to him and snatched his paper away. “Robbie, look who’s come to see us!”

The man looked up, and the first person his eyes caught sight of was Trent. “Hello, Trent,” he said, and reached for his paper again.

“No, not him, you goose. Her.” Starfire twisted her husband’s head in the Raven’s direction. His reaction on seeing Raven was nearly as dramatic in its stillness as Starfire’s had been in its exuberance.

“My god,” he whispered. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Yes! It is Friend Raven, finally come to see us!” With this, Starfire turned back to Raven and started in her usual rapid-fire, no-time-for-breath style. “We’ve been living here almost since the Titans disbanded, six years ago. Robbie has been working as a security guard for a bank, and he carries a gun, and he’s a good shot, and last month he shot a robber, and things are better now than they were when we first came here. I go by Kori, and Robbie goes by Richard, but I call him Robbie because I don’t like to call him Dick, and Goldfire goes by Violet, and the kids go to school and nobody knows that they aren’t completely normal. When we first moved here, Goldfire was kidnapped by a gang, and Robbie said we couldn’t afford to draw attention to ourselves by going after her, and so we hired Friend Trent to go get her, and Goldfire has a job at a chili shop, and Trent comes by for chili, and she always gives it to him, and it will probably make him sick the way he eats it, because he always puts in too much chili powder…” At this point, Richard Grayson gently quieted his wife and addressed their long lost friend.

“Hello, Raven.”

“Hello, Robin.” He wasn’t quite how she had remembered him, though there was no mistake as to who he was. His hair, which had been long when she had last seen him, was again cropped in the shorter “Robin” style, though he had apparently learned to be more moderate with hair gel. What was most shocking to Raven was that she realized that she had never seen Robin without his mask on as she did now. It amused her slightly that the first thing that came to mind was that she had been wrong about his eyes. For some reason she could barely remember now, she had just assumed that they must been small and beady. Interestingly, they were of a completely normal size, and as vividly blue as Starfire’s eyes were green.

“When did you find out about us?” he asked. Raven chuckled.

“When Star opened the door.” Robin seemed relieved.

“Good. I was afraid that we had a security breach somewhere.”

“No, no. I’m just frustrated that I didn’t realize it when I met Goldfire at the chili shop.”

“Well, I don’t blame you,” Trent said. “You had a lot on her mind, and you wouldn’t have known that she used to have yellow eyes. I can’t believe that I didn’t figure you people out,” he said, gesturing to Robin and Starfire. “I mean, Kori? And you look like Starfire from the Titans too! I just can’t believe it.” Starfire smiled sheepishly.

“Well,” she said, “If it makes you feel any better, you did guess about us, when you first met us.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“I know. That’s because our daughter Violet has the peculiar ability to erase certain parts of people’s memories.” Trent’s eyes were wide.

“You mean to say that Violet has been erasing my memories?” Dick and Kori both nodded.

“We first found out about her power when she was a toddler,” Starfire related. “She used to accidentally erase our minds without meaning to. We would play with her and her brother for hours, and then not remember it. She didn’t know what she was doing. But Raven taught her to restrain the power, and she restored our memories. I’m sure she could fix yours if you asked her to.” Trent turned to Raven.

“It’s true,” she confirmed. “Goldfire was able to do that, and I can reverse the effect. And I did teach her to restrain the power, but,” she said in a low voice, turning to Robin and Starfire, “I never taught her to use the power.” Starfire blushed and giggled softly. Raven sighed.

“It’s one of the ways we’ve been able to protect our identity,” Robin told his friend. Raven turned back to Trent.

“I can restore you memories if you want.”

“No, that’s fine,” he stated rather vehemently. “If I’ve forgotten things, maybe it’s better that I don’t find them out again. That way, I can’t hold anyone to blame or have a grudge against anyone.” This explanation was accepted, and Starfire suggested that they all sit down. Chairs were pulled out, and Robin, who was already seated, spoke again.

“So, Raven, if you didn’t know that my family and I were here, why did you come?”

“Yes, Friend Raven, why did you come, if not to see us?” This was the opportunity Raven had been looking for all along.

“I actually wanted to speak to your daughter about a girl who was staying with you last night. But now that I know that you’re here, I can just as easily ask you. Is she still here? Can I speak with her?”

Starfire and her husband looked at each other, then back at Raven. “There was nobody here last night, besides the four of us,” Robin told her. Raven’s brow darkened.

“In that case, I’ll need to speak to Violet herself.”

“I think she’s in her room upstairs,” Starfire said. Just then, Violet walked into the kitchen.

“Good morning Mom. Good morning Dad. Hello, Trent. Hello…uh…I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name…”

“Goldfire,” Starfire addressed her daughter, “this is your Auntie Raven.”

“Oh! I thought I recognized her when you stopped by last night, Trent. You really should have said something, Auntie Raven.”

“Well, to tell the truth, I didn’t recognize you. I thought you had yellow eyes….” Violet frowned.

“I did have yellow eyes. They were an abomination. I had them replaced.”

“I’ve also had a lot on my mind. Thankfully, though, you can help me with that.”

“I can?” Violet seemed confused.

“Yes. I’m trying to find a young girl named Samantha Gripes. She was here last night. Where is she now?” Violet paled, and sat down next to Trent.

“Oh dear,” she muttered quietly. Robin looked sternly at his daughter.

“Well, Violet? Was she?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And you mother and I don’t know, why?” Trent had never seen a more tormented looking girl.

“I made you forget,” she said in a barely audible voice. There was a long, unpleasant silence while Violet stared at the floor, Robin looked at his wife, Raven looked at Violet, and Trent didn’t know where to look. After a few tense moments, Richard Grayson broke the silence.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he said to his daughter. Raven spoke to Violet, but she did not look at the girl.

“Any last words before I restore your parents memories?” Violet stared pleadingly at Raven.

“Please,” she nearly cried, “I didn’t do it for myself.”

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes,” she whispered, and a single tear trickled down her cheek.

* * *

Samantha shifted uneasily on the bench. She was certain that woman was eyeing her suspiciously. Even with Violet’s clothes, her white hair still made her stand out like a sore thumb. The bus to Seattle didn’t leave for twenty minutes. Maybe she should just leave the bus station and come back later. She knew the woman was suspicious of her.

Sam made up her mind. She got up casually and walked over to the man who was mopping the floor in the corner.

“Excuse me,” she addressed him. “Where is the restroom, please?” The man pointed to a corridor at the other end of the large room. “Thank you.” Sam knew the woman on the other bench had heard her. She started off in the general direction of the bathrooms, and glanced quickly over her shoulder. The woman had gotten up and was quickly following her.

Sam looked around nervously, trying to devise a way out. There were two exits to the building, besides on a bus. One was on the other end of the room, but the one closest to her had a bored looking security guard standing near it. Suddenly, an idea came to her. She nearly laughed aloud at its boldness, but she decided it was her best bet. She hurried toward the guard at the exit. When she reached him, she spoke directly to him.

“Sir,” she said, pointing out her pursuer. “That woman is harassing me. She keeps insulting and threatening me. Could you please do something?” The guard’s face lit up with the prospect of something to do.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, and went after the woman. Samantha quickly left the building, looking up and down the street for an idea of where to go. In the end, she decided to turn right, and then crossed the street in a large crowd of people. As she was walking along, she tried to figure out what to do. The number one thing giving her away was her hair. She would do something about it, but it was Sunday morning, and she couldn’t think of any hair salon or barber shop that was open. She would dye it herself, but she had nowhere to do it.

True, she could go back to Tim and Violet’s. She laughed lightly as she remembered the look of shock on Violet’s face when her memory hadn’t been erased. Violet had tried several times, but no, Sam always retained all her memory. She hadn’t forgotten anything at all – if fact, she didn’t think she had forgotten anything since she had gained her powers. She could close her eyes and see everything transpire before her even now. She shuddered from the memory and suddenly realized how cold she was. There was a light dusting of snow on most things, and the white powder was still slowly drifting through the sky. And her head hurt too. Sam wandered in the general direction of Tim and Violet’s, hoping to encounter a drug store on the way.

* * *

It had been tense. That was the only way that Trent could think of to describe the situation. Everything had spilled out of Violet and Tim, although they had at first resisted speaking at all. Trent could sympathize with Violet – she was telling the truth; she didn’t do what she did for herself. If there was anything that you could accuse Violet of being, and there was, selfish was not one of those things.

Still, from Richard and Kori’s perspective as parents, lying…or not really lying. It had taken them a little while to determine that erasing memories didn’t quite count as lying. But falsifying memories, whether for yourself or for your twin brother, was wrong. Especially when the fact that you were trying to cover up was that your brother was playing the vigilante by night. It didn’t matter much that “Nightwing” – Richard Grayson’s current alter-ego – was just as active, if not more so, than “Robin,” Nightwing’s wayward son.

Trent had not sat in on the entire family discussion. He didn’t feel that it was his business, even as a friend of the family. Indeed, now he wondered if he even knew this family. Raven had taken more of a part in the discussion, playing the part not only of arbiter, but of family friend. It seemed that her sympathies lay more with the two children on some points – as far as Trent could tell, Raven thought that they deserved to be heroes, just as there parents had been – but she was definitely on Robin and Starfire’s side in that they deserved not only their children’s honesty, but their respect.

It was all very deep, and completely foreign to Trent. He couldn’t offer any suggestions on how a family should work – in his opinion, his father was a complete scumbag, and he could barely even remember his mother – and he didn’t feel like he should comment on the ethics of vigilanteinism, having often been paid to play the part of justice himself. All in all, Trent was extremely uncomfortable and drifted from the kitchen, where the discussion was taking place, to the living room. Sitting alone on the couch, he took some time to try to figure out what he was doing.

The way it appeared to him, he was working for Raven. But he had failed his original mission, and though there was no doubt that Raven still had one, it wasn’t clear to him what his part in it was. In fact, this morning he felt mostly like baggage dragged along – the only reason Raven had needed him at all was to get her to be able to speak with Violet, and it turned out that she didn’t even need him for that after all. Maybe he should do something. Just for the sake of having done something. What could he do that could possibly be helpful? Then an idea struck him.

Trent got up off the couch and quietly made his way back into the kitchen. Raven, Tim, Violet, Richard, and Kori were all seated around the table. At the moment, it seemed that Richard and Kori were discussing their own life in the Teen Titans, and possibly even time before that. Trent approached Raven, and tapped her on the shoulder.

“What?” she hissed.

“Do you know Cyborg’s number?” he asked in a low voice. Raven pondered a minute, then responded.

“Yes, it’s 555-4283. Better call him and tell him that we found Robin and Starfire. I think he would be interested.”

“And about his car?” Raven frowned.

“Maybe if he hasn’t noticed, you should just leave that.”

“Fine.” Trent went back to the living room and pulled out his cell phone.

* * *

Haste’s vision was slowly returning. He could vaguely see shapes, but everything was the same color – a bluish gray that swirled like fog. There was somebody bending over him, he was sure. His mind quickly analyzed the movement he could perceive, and determined it was a threat.

His right arm shot up and grabbed the arm at the wrist, giving it a brutal twist. His ultra-sensitive hearing could hear each snap of bone and tearing tendon, as well as the shriek of pain and terror that the person emitted. A knife-edge blow of the hand to the throat silenced the noise permanently.

Haste slowly sat up and shook his head. Suddenly, his vision snapped clear – he was sitting on a slab-like table in what appeared to be a laboratory. There was no one else in the room aside from the corpse of the doctor who had been unlucky enough to encounter him in a wakened state. Abruptly, Haste felt an excruciating pain in back of his head, and all his muscles convulsed. He screamed as his body thrashed uncontrollably on the table.

“Control yourself.” Haste heard the voice, and struggled to comply. The pain faded, and he sat gasping on the table. “Your systems are waking up,” Slade’s voice continued. “Soon, you should be fully operational.” Haste gritted his teeth as another spasm of electrical pain shot through his head. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes, he saw faint numbers and readouts in his field of vision.

“What’s this?” he growled. God, even his voice sounded different – it was deeper, more resonant, and much more sinister.

“Your head-up display,” Slade answered. “If you focus on it, you will be able to see it clearly.” Haste twitched slightly, and focused on one of the readouts. With a smooth gliding motion, the words and diagrams became much larger and clearer, and he realized it was a power-usage readout he was viewing. The meter showed twenty-three percent and rising.

“So I have batteries now?” he asked with a sneer.

“Hardly,” the cold voice came back. “Your power is derived from your body’s natural electromagnetic field. As long as you eat and drink, your power will be self sustaining.”

“What would happen if I stuck my finger in an electrical outlet?”

“You’d experience a power surge – which I have told is quite painful and can be completely debilitating. Now, can you stand?” Haste swung his feet off the edge of the table and dropped to the ground. “Good. Now come find me.”

“Where are you?” Haste shouted back, but there was no answer. Looks like I’ll be finding my own way out. He looked around the room for clothes or anything to use as a weapon. His head up display automatically analyzed the items in the room, creating a list of possible weapons, arranged from most effective to least. He viewed the list, taking the most deadly weapon – a syringe filled with a strange blackish blue liquid – and the third most deadly – a surgical scalpel. He held the scalpel in his right hand, but there was nowhere to place the syringe – he was naked from head to toe.

He placed the needle on the table, and silently inched the door open. He was pleased to find that his HUD displayed the level of ambient noise, as well as heat signatures. There was a guard to the right of the door. Even with the opening less than an inch, Haste could tell that he was waiting for him. Still, he had his back against the wall that the door was in, and hadn’t seemed to notice the slight opening that Haste watched him from. He returned for the syringe, cautiously moving the needle toward the leg of the guard. The guard started to move, and Haste quickly stabbed the syringe into his leg and injected him with the blackish liquid. He slid the door all the way open, and caught the guard as he toppled towards him, pulling him into the room and closing the door.

The guard was masked, and wore orange and black chest armor. Sensing his desire, Haste’s HUD listed the steps required to remove the breastplate. Smiling at his newfound source of knowledge, Haste unsnapped the armor and pulled off the guards clothes. He tossed the body in the corner and donned the outfit himself, replacing the scalpel with the guard’s pistol as his main weapon. Haste pulled out the gun and felt a small vibration in his hand. Immediately, a targeting reticule appeared in the middle of his vision, moving smoothly with the motion of the gun. Just like a video game, he thought, and exited the room.

* * *

Cyborg’s internal phone rang just as he finished his tenth waffle. He put his first two fingers of his right hand to his ear, the programmed command to answer the phone.

“Hey, this is Vic Stone.”

Cy? This is Trent.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?”

Pretty well, I think. You’re not going to believe what Raven and I have been doing.

“What?”

We ran into Nightwing and Starfire.

“Those two? I thought they’d left the planet.”

Guess they didn’t. Anyway, Raven said I should call and let you know. I think we’ll be heading back to the Tower soon. You still there?

“Yeah, I just finished breakfast. Hey, where are you? I’ll come join you guys.”

Eeh…uh…you don’t need to bother to do that. We’ll be back in about twenty minutes anyway – it would hardly be worth the trouble to come over.

“I can make it practically anywhere in the city in fifteen minutes in my car. Have you seen my car?”

Uh…I don’t think so.

“Well, she’s my baby. When you get back, I’ll show you everything about her.”

Yeah, I’d appreciate that. Just a sec…what? No, I…what do you mean “bus station?” No, I don’t. Well, you’d better take care of it. Oh, come on. Ok, fine. Sorry, Cy. Raven wants to run down to the bus station. I guess it will be a while before we get back.

“Well, then you’d better go. When Rae demands something, it’s best to comply.”

Thanks for the advice.

“Any time. And be careful on that motorcycle of yours. It snowed last night.”

Yeah, I’ll do that. Got to go.

“Ok, see ya’. Oh!”

What?

“Did either of you leave me a message?”

Don’t think so.

“Ok, I’ll go check it out. You’d better go.” Trent hung up, and Cyborg’s phone automatically shut off. So, Trent hadn’t left that message. I guess that mean’s I’d better find out who it’s from.

Strangely enough, he was no more enlightened after listening to the message than before. It ran like this:

Uh, hello. This is Ernie Ball – connected with the Harmen case. Uh, I was supposed to let you people know when I found out some more info, and uh…tomorrow morning at the mansion. Bert and I will be there. Some sort of new assignment. So, I’ve done what you asked. Bye.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Harmen case? Ernie Ball? Cyborg was completely puzzled. He switched on his phone.

“Aich-cue,” he said, triggering the speed dial.

OJCSO, came the voice at the other end.

“Hey, this is Cy.”

Who? Cyborg slapped himself in the head.

“Vic Stone.”

Oh. What do you want?

“What kind of a greeting is that? Hey, can you tell me anything about a case involving ‘Harmen’?”

Sorry, Stone, I can’t.

“What?”

Haven’t you heard? You’ve been suspended.

“Suspended? When the hell did that happen?”

I guess you don’t know. Last night, we got a call that there was somebody accusing you of sexual harassment.

“********.”

That’s what we said, but the call came via the Mayor’s office, and supposedly, the Mayor’s good friend requested that you be completely kick off the force, but there was no way we were going to do that. But, the Mayor insisted on your suspension until we can investigate.

“****,” Cyborg muttered. “So he knew all along. And he was just waiting for an opportunity.”

What was that?

“Nothing. Look, I know it won’t hold any weight against the Mayor, but I swear that I didn’t do anything to anybody.”

Hey, we’re all on your side here, but this is politics, and you’ve got to play the game.

“I know. I’m not blamin’ you. Stay out of trouble, ok?” With that, Cyborg terminated the call.

He was furious. Of course Slade had known. It was part of his record – he was a former Titan. Not only that, he was one of the original five Teen Titans, and as far as anybody knew, he was the only one still left in Jump City. Only now, Slade knew that Raven was back. And so he went after him as a warning.

God, if he knew Nightwing and Starfire were around…he didn’t dare finish the thought. It could be Teen Titans days, all over again. He made up his mind. He had to go find out what Case Harmen was, and why the hell Ernie Ball had left a message on his machine. He raced to the garage.

Cyborg hadn’t thought it was possible to be more shocked than he was when he heard he was suspended. When he saw the empty garage, he realized he had been wrong.

* * *

*blam!*

*blam!*

Two shots, and two bodies fell lifeless to the ground. Haste checked his stats on the HUD – he was shooting with fifty-eight point three percent accuracy, and had three shots left. Not bad, but not good enough. Two of his five misses had been completely inexcusable. He had been sloppy. He approached the bodies of the two men he had just killed. They were holding shotguns. He must be getting closer to Slade.

Haste took one of the shotguns, and his HUD automatically adjusted. The ammo-counter now read “7,” and the reticule had become a large circle that adjusted size depending on how close the object he pointed that gun at was.

He only had a second to observe his new weapon, however, because ten ninja-bots exploded out of hidden wall panels. They held a variety of different far-eastern weapons, ranging from katanas to nun-chucks.

*blam*

*b-l-a-m*

Time seemed to stretch, as Haste catapulted himself into the air, blasting the three closest bots to pieces with two shells. He reached out, and caught a flying katana by the handle, time snapping back to normal speed as his feet slammed into the ground. He spun wildly, slashing with his left hand and firing the shotgun with his right. Unfortunately, he only was able to fire one shot before it became necessary to pump the gun again. A bot sliced its katana cleanly through the barrel of the gun, and Haste dropped the useless weapon, transitioning effortlessly into a two-handed slash that took the bot’s head clean off.

Now there were two robots left, one with a sword, and the other with a pole axe. The two robots had different markings from the other eight – that and the fact that they were still standing convinced Haste they were the superiors, even before his HUD told him that these were Mark Vs, and that they usually were assigned to command four or the Mark IIIs that he had already decimated. They seemed to be working together – unlike the other robots, they waited for his move instead of charging wildly.

Using his HUD was completely intuitive. He didn’t have to think about it any more than he had to think about moving his arm, or swallowing. He just did it. His internal tactical advisor projected several possible scenarios for the encounter, based on what it knew about his current weapons, stance, and the robots’ capabilities. Haste didn’t like what he saw. As it currently stood, he had a seventy percent chance of taking out either robot, but only a twenty-eight percent chance to take out both. He needed to balance the odds.

On the ground, roughly five yards away from him, lay one of the fallen robots. Haste quickly calculated his odds of seizing the fallen foe’s katana, and his odds of ultimate success using the additional blade. He smiled, and shifted position. The two robots also changed stances, to account for his variation.

As Haste catapulted himself forward, time once again slowed. Saw the bots at the end of the hall dashing towards him, and he knew they had comprehended his strategy. He snatched the katana off the floor, and executed a sweeping dual-weapon figure that was supposed to slice the legs off both his opponents. At the last moment, however, the lead robot changed its path, and the blow caught it in the arm, doing minimal damage. The butt of the pole axe caught him in the back of the neck, and the shock of the blow knocked time back to its normal speed. A quick, rearward stab finished off the bot, but Haste was unhappy. It had been a sloppy kill; he should have done better.

He dashed on down the hallway, searching for his master.

[Matt A]

Okay, there's only one thing I need to say here: PV is back!:anime::anime::anime::anime::anime::anime::anime::anime::anime::anime:

As usual, this chapter has given us quite a lot to think about. The different sub-plots are starting to pull themselves together, with Raven and Trent meeting Star and Robin for the first time (a nice bit of extra background with the foursome's seperate relationships dropped in there too: I was definitely surprised by all that), and the long-awaited (by me, at least) meeting of Raven and Sam finally coming quite a few steps closer. Also, Bert & Ernie get woven into the main thread of things at long last, and I'm sure that things'll start making a lot more sense when their particular role (whatever it turns out to be) becomes a little bigger. On that note, both of the scenes that referenced the T-Car (Raven and Trent "appropriaiting" and making good of it, as well as Cy once again professing his eternal love for his baby) were quite possibly the funniest things you've ever put into type. It's always good too see Raven acting like her usual mischevously b*tchy self.;):anime::anime::evil::evil:

However, the stars of the chapter were undoubtedly Slade and George, now re-born as the psychotic near-invincible killing-machine known as Haste. I swear, the HUD thing is quite possibly the greatest use of referencing in the history of references (actually, it doesn't quite beat the "2001" reference in the new "Charlie And The Chocolate Factory", but it's pretty damn close), and a genius idea in its own right. Somehow, I don't think his eventual meeting with Sam will be a happy one...which is good, because twisted loyalties are what good drama is made of.;):anime::anime::evil::evil:

All in all, a quality return, and maybe even your single greatest chapter yet. Just don't leave it so long before the next one, okay?:p:p:p

-Matt A-

[Kregor8]

Well, well. I'm glad you're so enthusiastic. Ok, here's what I have to be enthusiastic about.

Mandate is real, and you can buy it here, right now. (http://www.soundclick.com/Store/ShoppingCartInfo.cfm?bandID=274548)

How cool is that? It's $10 plus shipping, which is 3.50 for most of us, and 6.50 for you Brits. Or Canadians (or Meixans or French or whatevers). But yes, it's real, and yes, I'm excited. I won't put too much about it up, but here's a little info for those of you who care about this stuff.

There are four Teen Titans inspired tracks on the cd, only one of which you've heard before. Well, sort of. The Return returns in full force, but I haven't really made any changes to it. That Hollow Feeling is a DnB track with samples from Spellbound. Xinothium and Real Tricks you've heard before - but only in part. The album versions of both these songs are at least two minutes longer a piece, and the quality of the songs is much higher.

Anyway, I expect you'll all enjoy what's there.

Oh yeah - bonus points if you can tell me what movie the sample in Diffusion is from - there were originally 3 samples from said movie in there, but I removed them for fear of copyright infringement.

7<regor

[Crowgirl]

As usual, this chapter has given us quite a lot to think about. The different sub-plots are starting to pull themselves together, with Raven and Trent meeting Star and Robin for the first time (a nice bit of extra background with the foursome's seperate relationships dropped in there too: I was definitely surprised by all that), and the long-awaited (by me, at least) meeting of Raven and Sam finally coming quite a few steps closer. Also, Bert & Ernie get woven into the main thread of things at long last, and I'm sure that things'll start making a lot more sense when their particular role (whatever it turns out to be) becomes a little bigger. On that note, both of the scenes that referenced the T-Car (Raven and Trent "appropriaiting" and making good of it, as well as Cy once again professing his eternal love for his baby) were quite possibly the funniest things you've ever put into type. It's always good too see Raven acting like her usual mischevously b*tchy self.;):anime::anime::evil::evil:

However, the stars of the chapter were undoubtedly Slade and George, now re-born as the psychotic near-invincible killing-machine known as Haste. I swear, the HUD thing is quite possibly the greatest use of referencing in the history of references (actually, it doesn't quite beat the "2001" reference in the new "Charlie And The Chocolate Factory", but it's pretty damn close), and a genius idea in its own right. Somehow, I don't think his eventual meeting with Sam will be a happy one...which is good, because twisted loyalties are what good drama is made of.;):anime::anime::evil::evil:

All in all, a quality return, and maybe even your single greatest chapter yet. Just don't leave it so long before the next one, okay?:p:p:p


Exactly what I think. That was an awesome chapter, and very eye-opening. Well done indeed! :anime:

And I shall try to buy Mandate ASAP, I can't wait to hear those cool tracks!

Ciao,
CG

[Kregor8]

*Shock*
Wow, I actually finally completed another chapter of this story, something NONE of you thought I would ever do. In fact, I think there's probably only two of you left who even remember this story at all. Sad, but true. Anyway, here we go.

On other news, I've got a new site of my own (http://www.xanga.com/kregoreight) where I post little snippets of ideas that are rolling around my head. And lucky for you, I've taken a little time to put them down on (digital) paper for you to read them.

Also, Mandate (http://www.soundclick.com/Store/digital/01_Shop_Album.cfm?bandID=274548&albumID=4249)is once again availible for purchase at Uncle Roses Music (http://www.soundclick.com/uncleroses), only this time in MP3 format, and for about half of what it cost before (for you Brits, at least). Plus, you can have it immediatelly, no shipping or anything. I have several other very hot tracks also for sale, that you should check out. And as always, there's a good amount of free stuff as well.

Ok, here's the chapter. Tell me what you think, please. I'll be working on another one, but you know me - one chapter per decade seems to be about all I can put out.

Chapter Fifteen

She was starting to get worried. It seemed like everyone on the street was staring at her, and she knew that it was only a moment of time before she ran into somebody who realized who she was – Samantha Gripes, a wanted girl.

True, she was only wanted “in connection” with the murder of her Uncle, but once they had her, it wouldn’t be long before they found out that she had been the one who killed him, not George. Sam smiled faintly at the thought of him – sweet, innocent George. Someday, maybe she would meet him again. Someday, they could be happy together.

She felt a slight crackling at the tips of her fingers, heard a sound like frying bacon, and panicked. Sam knew that if she accidentally unleashed her newfound mutant powers in the middle of Jump City, she’d be in more trouble still. Mutants could be deported; mutants convicted of crimes…were executed.

She started running, barely noticing where she was going, not hearing the shouts of “Hey!” and “Watch where’s you’re going!” She just ran, tucking her hands into her armpits, willing the tingling to go away.

It was no good – she couldn’t suppress it. At the last moment, she whipped down an alley, and practically exploded with a brutal sneeze. Electricity snaked from her fingers, her nose, and her mouth, shorting out in mid air. The result was a blinding flash, and Samantha fell to her knees on the cold, wet, slush covered ground.

“Well, ain’t you a unique one?” a rough voice came from behind a trash dumpster. She hugged herself tight, trying to smother the shivers that were convulsing her body. A man in a ratty looking coat stood up from his place, and approached Sam.

“Piss off, pervert!” she managed to spit out, before another wave of electricity shook her. The man backed away.

“Meanin’ no disrespect, Miss. Meanin’ no disrespect.” She glared at him from behind the wisps of the pure white hair that we hanging in her face. “Do you need…any help?” the man asked. Sam shook her head, slowly rising to her feet.

“I’ll be going,” she growled out. “Don’t move until I’ve left the alley.” The old man nodded, sitting on his hands on an overturned bucket. When Samantha had reached the end of the alley, she heard him call a “good luck” after her.

It was almost funny, she thought. That old man had probably actually been concerned about her. She almost felt bad about being rude to him. Almost.

* * *

*crack*
A robotic neck snapped under Haste’s heavy persuasion. Drenched in mechanical oil, he stood resolutely on the pile of vanquished bots. Shifting the battle axe he had recently acquired from his left to his right hand, Haste surveyed his arena. He was no longer fighting through sublevels – in front of him was a bank of windows that revealed Jump City in all its midday majesty. The city’s light snow covering gleamed golden as the light struck the tops of the skyscrapers. He ran a query through his internal memory, but found that he had no information about the world outside. A soft, female voice in the back of his head spoke to him.

When I learn more about the city, I will be able to pinpoint exactly where we are. I’ll store this picture for future reference.

Haste was shocked. He didn’t bother to look around for the speaker – he knew the voice had spoken directly into his head – he just hadn’t anticipated his internal computers actually having a voice.

Well, of course I do. Did you think that anything so intelligent wouldn’t be sentient?

“Not exactly,” Haste spoke aloud. “I just hadn’t considered the possibility.”

No need to speak aloud, the voice said. I can hear your thoughts just as clearly as you hear mine.

“All of them?” he asked.

I could if I wanted to. But I don’t want to, the voice said with a sigh. Most of what you think is so boring.

“Well, that’s nice.” It was amazing how natural it was to communicate in this way. When Slade had said that everything would change, he had believed him, but he had not anticipated how much things would change; how much better things would be.

“Do you have a name?” he asked. The soft voice laughed.

Lilith.

“And what are your feelings about Slade?”

We serve Slade. He gave us all that we have.

“Then let’s go find him.”

Haste leapt from the pile of bodies and dashed toward the stairwell.

Wait, Lilith called, as he wrenched open the locked door.

“For what?”

Why not take the elevator? she asked, marking the location in his vision.

“It’s disabled.”

You think that matters to me?

“Unnecessary risk,” he stated flatly. He could feel what he took to be a “look” of disdain from the computer.

Is your name Haste, or Slow and Steady? You think you can’t handle whatever risk might come up? The warrior hesitated for a moment, then grinned. He followed the arrow in his vision to the elevator doors.

These things are controlled digitally. I can access the computer inside and open the doors, Lilith said. She really had an amazing voice, Haste thought. If she had a body, he was certain that she’d be stunning.

Why thank you, she said enthusiastically as the doors slid open.

“I thought you didn’t read all my thoughts.”

Only the interesting ones.

* * *

Trent stood calmly as Raven fumed. She didn’t say anything – just stared straight ahead – but Trent could tell she was furious by the rigidity of her body and how tightly her fists were clenched. He was almost certain that the paint was peeling off the wall where Raven was staring at it.

“Well, what next?” Trent finally said, hoping Raven would get control of herself before she tore a hole in the wall in sheer fury. “She didn’t get on the bus. That means she’s still in the city – we can find her.”

Slowly, Raven turned around.

“Let’s hope you’re right. If she gets away again…” At this point, the security guard at the door approached them.

“I hope you don’t think me too bold, but if you’re looking for somebody, I might be able to help you. I see everyone who comes in and out of these doors.”

Trent looked at Raven, and she nodded.

“Might as well try.”

Trent turned back to the guard.

“You might be able to help us. We’re looking for my sister – she was trying to run away from home. Seems like she got cold feet at the last minute.”

“Can you describe her?” the guard asked.

“The thing you’d probably notice about her is that she has pure white hair.”

“White hair? Yeah, I’ve seen her. She left not ten minutes ago. She was being harassed by some lady.”

“Did you see where she went?” Raven asked.

“No, ma’am, I did not.”

“Alright. Thank you for your help. Come on, Trent, let’s go.”

* * *

You know, you’re kind of cute when you get all worked up.

“Shut up! This is a combat situation!” Haste wrenched the axe out of the metallic skull of a Mark V. He only had a second before another Mark V struck at him. The Mark Vs were fast, but not as fast as him. The robot’s giant hammer smashed the dead Mark V’s body to bits, and Haste severed the mechanical head from the neck.

“Hey! Do something useful and try to find out where Slade is hiding!”

I’m on it.

He heard the click of a trigger being pulled and launched himself into the air. His reaction time was amazing – as he back-flipped, he could see the buckshot pass underneath him. As his feet crashed into the shoulders of the bot holding the shotgun, time resumed its normal passage. He smashed the axe into the chest of the bot, the curved blade jutting out the back of the Mark V’s armored torso. The robot convulsed, tossing away its gun. In an instant, the weapon was in Haste’s hand, and trained on one of the two remaining orange and black robots.

*blam!*

The robot exploded into little chunks, splattering Trent with oil. He could taste it – it was all over his grinning teeth. He spat, ripping the head off the last robot with a well aimed shot – all his shots were well aimed, he thought, looking at his ninety-one point six percent accuracy rating.

Just like a video game, he thought. Just like a video game.

* * *

“There!” Trent shouted, “That’s her!”

“Where?” Raven asked, as Cyborg’s car rolled quietly down the street.

“I would point, but I’m a bit tied up.” Raven sighed, and the seatbelt, which had been wrapped tightly around Trent’s upper body, unwound itself. He gestured to a white-haired girl walking down the sidewalk.

“Oh god,” Raven muttered, as they approached her.

“What?”

“The cop. He spotted her.”

“Damn. Better hurry.” The police man was rapidly walking up behind her, but Samantha Gripes was oblivious. Raven stepped on the gas and sided up to the walking girl. Trent stuck his head out the window.

“Samantha!” She turned to look at him. “Quick, get in the car.”

“Who the hell are you?” she asked, looking shocked.

“Better hurry. You’ll either be getting in our car, or in his.” He pointed to the police man with his thumb. Sam paled when she saw him, and quickly climbed in the back seat.

“What do you want?” she asked, sinking down in the seat behind the tinted window.

“For now, just to keep you out of jail. Be quiet and play along, please.” The police man had shouted out when Sam had climbed in the car, and now came along side of Trent’s open window. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” the officer, whose badge read “Cat,” answered, slightly out of breath. “That girl you just picked up – I believe she’s wanted in connection with a murder case. I’ll...” he panted, “have to take her in to the station.” Trent laughed aloud.

“Murder? Nonsense! You haven’t killed anybody, have you Imogene?”

“Not that I remember,” Sam said with a nervous laugh.

“Now, Officer…Cat, I’m sure that there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. I was just picking up my sister for church. Murder? You must be confused.”

“Mister,” Officer Cat said gravely, pulling himself up to his full height and puffing out his chest, “I can tell when I’m being taken in. It’s almost one o’clock. You couldn’t possibly be going to church at this time of day.”

“Do I hear religious discrimination, officer?” Trent asked coldly. Officer Cat visibly deflated. “Have a good day, officer.” Trent put up the window, and they drove away.

After riding in silence for several minutes, Samantha leaned forward.

“Who are you guys, anyway?” Trent chuckled.

“You don’t remember me? I fell through your window a couple days ago.”

“You bastard!” she shouted. “I thought I’d seen you before! I should have known you were stalking me!”

“Actually, that credit should go to this fine lady here,” he said, indicating Raven.

“Look,” said Sam, “I’m a dangerous girl. If you mess with me, you’re going to regret it.”

“Sit down,” Raven said dully. “You’re no more dangerous than anyone else in this car.”

“That’s what you think,” grumbled Sam, but she sat back down in the seat none the less. There was something about the driver that bothered her – like she had seen her before, but not like that, really, she thought. She knew she had never seen the woman before – her long, purple hair wasn’t easily forgotten. But still, there was something familiar about her.

“So, are you kidnapping me?” she finally asked, in a sulky voice.

“Why do you care?” Raven responded in that flat tone of hers. Samantha gasped at this bold reply, but couldn’t think of an answer. “We’re going somewhere where you can learn to control your powers.”

“How do you know about those?” Sam snarled.

“It should be obvious to anybody with the least bit of mental control.”

“Are you saying that I’m mentally unstable?”

“I have insinuated no such thing. Do you wish to affirm it?” Sam glared silently ahead for the remainder of the trip.

* * *

Haste stood before the doors. He knew what was behind the doors – there was only one thing that could be behind the doors. His master Slade. And yet…he hesitated to open them. A few hours ago, he had been a mere weak boy, wrapped up in obsession over a plain looking girl. Now he was an unstoppable war-machine, still dripping with the “blood” of one hundred seventy six robotic adversaries. He had a psychotic female living in the back of his brain, and life was a blast. And he had Slade to thank for all this. So why did he hesitate?

Well, what are you waiting for?

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Things aren’t always that easy, the alluring female voice that was his…what was she, exactly?

Steeling himself, Haste stepped forward and threw open the giant double doors that were emblazoned with Slade’s familiar symbol. In a grand chair, his single eye gleaming brightly in the semi-darkness, the master sat. Slade, the most powerful person in Jump City…no, Haste thought, the entire world.

“Well done, Haste. Are you ready for your first assignment?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Go investigate Titans’ Tower. Kill everyone you find inside it.”

* * *

“You!” Cyborg screamed at them the instant they pulled into the garage. “You…stole my baby!” He pointed his finger ominously at Raven, and for the first time all day, Trent was glad that he hadn’t been driving.

“Come on,” Trent said quietly to Samantha. “We’re not needed here.” While Raven and Cyborg shouted at each other, the two slipped out of the garage. Trent noticed the girl’s glum face, and tried to think of something to tell her – something that would make the current situation seem less bad – but he could not. In the end, it was Samantha who broke the silence.

“So, she’s really Raven from the Titans?”

“Yeah,” Trent affirmed. “Is it so hard to believe?”

“I guess not – not compared to what I’ve gone through the last few days. Is she always so nasty?” Trent started to say “No,” but double guessed himself halfway through saying it. Sam scowled. “You’re saying yes, aren’t you?” Trent sighed.

“I hope not.” Sam laughed.

“Well, it does fit with the reputation Raven used to have. I can’t really believe it even now – the Titans were my idols when I was growing up. What does she want with me, anyway?”

“To train you, I believe. Don’t ask me why, because I’m about as clueless as you. But trust her that she knows what she’s talking about. You couldn’t imagine what’s at stake.”

“The future of the world?”

“Roughly.”

“Sounds clichéd.”

“Doesn’t it?” They entered the living room. “I think we should wait for Raven here. She’ll probably show you to your room and all that stuff.”

“Do you trust her?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“She pays me.”

“That’s not very reassuring to me.”

“Well, it’s not just that. She gave me a mission to do, and I failed royally, and she didn’t throw me out on my ear. So I guess she’s earned my respect.”

“Respect and trust aren’t the same thing.”

“You know,” Trent said, looking hard at the white haired girl, “you think way too hard. I’ll see you later.”

* * *

Haste walked quickly among the crowd. He wasn’t the slowest person on the street, nor was he the fastest. He was dressed the same as everyone else, and walked with his head down against the brutally cold wind. Nobody would recognize him; nobody would remember he had ever been there.

His mind ran over the last thing Slade had told him; a solemn warning. Sometimes, Slade had said, the new powers of augmentation were too great for the host to deal with. The mind reacted by personifying the subroutines and processes of the nano-system, creating “voices” in the mind of the host. By listening to these voices, many augmented soldiers had gone insane, even killing themselves at the bidding of the voices in their heads. Don’t trust the voices, Slade had said. If they speak to you, ignore them – they can be conquered, the same as any other foe. If you embrace them, however, you embrace your own destruction.

You don’t really believe that pile of ********, do you? the sweet voice of Lilith asked. Haste kept walking, not saying anything, and doing his best not to think anything either. Come on, Haste. Just because Slade is the master, and we owe him our lives, does not mean that he doesn’t sometimes make mistakes.

“That sounds like treason,” Haste responded before he could stop himself.

I don’t care what it sounds like, it’s still true. Please, you can’t just not talk to me. I get so lonely.

“You’re just a construct of my mind. How on earth could you be lonely? How could you be anything at all? You don’t feel, you don’t see, you don’t think, you aren’t.” Haste was surprised to hear the soft sound of weeping in the back of his mind. He didn’t regret it though. He was going to beat the voices.

* * *

It had been several hours since Samantha had come to the tower, and Raven still hadn’t emerged from the basement-level garage. Neither had Cyborg. Samantha was dozing on the couch. Trent was drinking a glass of water – the only beverage available in Titans’ Tower – and watching the sunset out the window, hoping against hope that Raven wouldn’t be furiously angry when she finally emerged from arguing with Cyborg.

Trent jumped as he heard footsteps approaching. From the fierceness of the stomp, he assumed it was Cyborg – no matter how angry Raven got, she was still a light woman. The thunderous reverberations coming into the living room seemed to belong to a three-hundred pound behemoth like Victor Stone. Cyborg pointed his massive finger at the silhouetted form of Trent Touren.

“Don’t think you’re not just as guilty as she is.” With that, he stomped away. With the sound of Cyborg’s feet still echoing in the halls, Trent didn’t hear Raven approach. He simply noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye. She stood at the giant window, fingers pressed against the glass, as if grasping for the last rays of amber light now fading from view. Trent turned and started to walk away, but the feather-like sound of Raven’s voice stopped him.

“Have you ever been put in a situation where you have to make a hard choice, and you do what you feel is right, yet nobody appreciates your efforts?” Trent walked back.

“I never told you why I’m not still in the Marines.”

“No, you didn’t. Why aren’t you?”

“I don’t care to tell you. But just accept the fact that I know what you’re going through.” Raven snorted.

“Nobody knows what I go through.”

“And you always like to do things on your own. But is that the cause, or the effect?” She turned away from the window and looked at him, bewildered.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you think that you’re alone because nobody understands you. Maybe, nobody understands you…because you’re alone.” He jumped as the glass in his hand shattered, spraying glass and water all over him. A fairly large piece stuck in the palm of his hand; he pulled it out with a wince.

Suddenly, Raven was there, her hand glowing, mending the torn flesh with her power. Trent noticed she was biting her lip rather fiercely, and a single tear ran down her cheek. He reached up to brush it away.

The next thing he knew, he was holding a sobbing Raven in his arms, as black pieces of glass were grounded to a powder at his feet. Completely disorientated, Trent silently held her, allowing her to wet his chest with her tears.

“I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, it was over, and Raven was silently gliding down the hallway. The only proof that anything had happened at all was a small pile of fine glass powder at his feet, and a large damp patch on his black Tee.



~-~-~-~-~-~-~


Well, that's it. Yes, it's shorter than most of my chatpers, and probably not the best, but it was extremely hard to write, because not only am I in the "transition period" of the story, I wrote half of it, took a couple months off, and then tried to finish it. I recommend you NEVER do that, because it's so much easier just to start over.


Anyway, cheers.

7<regor

[Alpha Man]

Sheer awesomeness! Raven's emotions are captured well, to the point where I had to be pinched back to reality. I'm glad your back, Kreg Man, we needed some of your spectacular stuff to get us through the month! The whole "felt a slight crackling at the tips of her fingers, heard a sound like frying bacon, and panicked" thing really had me going there, and I just sat back and said (with a grin), "Only Kregor could write that."

The only odd thing, IMO, was the "*crack*". I mean sure, it had great dramatic effect and quality, but I was advised as an amateur to stay away from writing sounds instead of describing them. The advisors (people like Aquagirl15 and ShadowOfAGhost) would tell me to say "The sound of a crack was heard" instead of "*crack*". Now I am once again confused as how to write it properly. Eeesh, I bet you're just gonna say, "Hey, I like to go back to the old ways. It's fun."

Sorry about the majorly short review: I'm not really in the mood as of late.:sweat: To reiterate a point, your chapter was well worth the wait. Thank you for blessing us by posting it. Once again, YOU DA MAN!:D

Perfection, thy name is Kregor8.

[Matt A]

About time we have some stuff from the Kreg-meister. It's been a good six months, from what I remember. Too long, either way.;)

Considering how long it's been since the last chapter, I'm amazed that all of this new one actually made sense. I'm not talking about the plot: that one's still got my brain twisted into a little spiral. But when you remember everything that's happened previously, at least for stuff that's been added onto now, you know you're onto a winner.;)

Anyway, onto the specifics. If I'd forgotten anything, it's just how good you are at black comedy: from Cyborg's tantrum and "Lilith"'s creepy allure, to Raven's mardiness and Trent's sheer style, pretty much every line made me want to laugh from the sheer sadistic absurdity of it. The only part that I didn't find funny was Raven's brief breakdown at the end, but only because it was actually a very affecting moment: quite sweet, in a slightly odd way. Basically, I must salute your genius at creating that most relishable and elusive of things: cool.:anime:

Now all you need to do is keep it up.:p

-Matt A-

[Kregor8]

Now all you need to do is keep it up.

Well, you people seem to think I've done a good enough job so far, but ever time I put out a chapter, I always think "Man, I've got lucky so far, but this one is going to stink."

AM, about the *crack.* Well, you're right, it was cheap. But remember, I wrote this over a period of six months, and around the time I wrote that, I was 1) overstressed and 2) fooling around a bit with movie scripting. When I finished the chapter, I read back over it and thought about changing it, but when no solutions sprung to mind, I decided to go ahead and post if anyway, cause it'd been so long. Hopefully, next time I'll do a little better in that regard. And no, I would never publish anything like that. The very idea is repulsive. :D And by publish, I mean make people pay for it.

The only part that I didn't find funny was Raven's brief breakdown at the end, but only because it was actually a very affecting moment: quite sweet, in a slightly odd way. Basically, I must salute your genius at creating that most relishable and elusive of things: cool.

The praise I get from you guys blows my mind. Really, I couldn't keep writing this if you didn't like it, but it shocks me evertime I'm reminded how much you all like it. I keep wondering if I'm doing the right thing by studying law...as much as I enjoy it, I won't be at all surprised if a change in my study course comes very soon.

Anyway, I must go, but I encourage you to visit The Torn Page (http://www.xanga.com/kregoreight), my blog where I post weirdo clips from weirdo stories that I write. The quality is not always the best, but the point is to express the idea before I lose it for good. Not that I've ever forgotten a story idea...I still remember things I thought about writing over six years ago. And no, I wouldn't try to write them now. Or maybe, just maybe, I would. :D

7<regor

[Matt A]

Well, you people seem to think I've done a good enough job so far, but ever time I put out a chapter, I always think "Man, I've got lucky so far, but this one is going to stink."

We all think that. And we all get proven wrong.;)

I keep wondering if I'm doing the right thing by studying law...as much as I enjoy it, I won't be at all surprised if a change in my study course comes very soon.

As I'm finding out the hard way, you don't need to study creative writing on order to learn its arts.;)

Anyway, I must go, but I encourage you to visit The Torn Page (http://www.xanga.com/kregoreight), my blog where I post weirdo clips from weirdo stories that I write.

The next time I have time, I'll be there.:anime:

-Matt A-

[Alpha Man]

Dude, the page rocked. Why is everybody older than me?!:mad: Not your fault, I guess. Kregor, I always got the impression that you were Scotish, so your location as the US was quite a shock to me. I mean, I sat there, thinking (mostly): "Huh. I always thought he was from Scotland. Didn't he say that he was? I am so confused... again."

The Pill sounds deviously interesting. Whoa! I think I just found two words that define Kregor8! Deviously Interesting! Dood! That so totally rocks, like, seriously. Sorry, too much Motor Ed for one person starts to get to me.:sweat: Wait, who's Motor Ed again? Kidding! I mean not to cause spam, if that is what thou isth thinking...ith. However, I must be blunt. Me want more Perfection! Hey, you have to admit, once you've tasted it, you don't want anything less.;)

Again, this I mean-ith not to cause-ith spammage or to hype-ith up-ith Kregor's fic. Dude, you rock. Your stuff rox. It rocks and it rox. You decide which is better. I am all 4 u writing wrongs and writing lefts and...

A new chapter would nice. Maybe before six months? Yeah. Thanks.

[Kregor8]

"Huh. I always thought he was from Scotland. Didn't he say that he was? I am so confused... again."

I don't remember saying that. I wish I was from Scotland, but I've never been there. My ancestors come from there, and my last name is Ross, but that's about it. Someday I'll make it over there but I don't mind being a US citizen.

The Pill sounds deviously interesting. Whoa! I think I just found two words that define Kregor8! Deviously Interesting! Dood! That so totally rocks, like, seriously.

Thanks for that. I'm working on finishing the story off, and I'm going to attempt to get it published in a magazine or something. It's rather unlikely, but it's something I want to try.

Again, this I mean-ith not to cause-ith spammage or to hype-ith up-ith Kregor's fic. Dude, you rock. Your stuff rox. It rocks and it rox. You decide which is better. I am all 4 u writing wrongs and writing lefts and...

Message to the mods: I agree with AM. If you think this is spam, I guess there's nothing I can do about it, but he is talking about my writing and encouraging me, so I can only say I would be hurt if the message was deleted.

And yes, a new chapter should be out before six months. But you all know I've said that before. Plus, it would be nice if some other of the old people read the new chapter, but I don't really know how many of them are still around. So I won't hold out for that. As long as you two are still reading it, I'll keep on posting it.

7<regor

[SilverKnight]

Message to the mods: I agree with AM. If you think this is spam, I guess there's nothing I can do about it, but he is talking about my writing and encouraging me, so I can only say I would be hurt if the message was deleted.It's not spam, because his statement is legible and longer than three words. If something's spammy, chances are, you'll know it's spammy too. Believe it or not, we do give people the benefit of the doubt and trust a writer's judgement in that regard. :)

Oh, and don't be cute and call out mods in-thread. If something needs clarifying, that's what a PM is for. :p

Anyway, back on topic. I can't say I've gotten through the whole thing yet, but what I've read and skimmed over seems nicely done. There's a whole dark humor about it that really adds an extra flavor to it. Not bad; not bad at all. :D

[Rae]

I don't even want to know how much time passed betwen the last chapter and this one... It was a lot.

but this chapter was great! Sometimes, when you go back to a story after not having read it for a long time, you forget what was happening, but not with this, i was totally up to speed with what was going on and didn't need to go back and reread anything.

Anyway, the chapter was great, Everyone seemed to be incharacter, though i wasn't quite expecting Raven to break down at the end, but when you look at it, it does work. It would have been interesting to see the arguement that actualy passed between Raven and Cyborg, but i suppose, by not letting ups see it, we can fill in the gaps for ourselves, which is always fun!

the bit with Haste talking to the voice in his head was cool too. I look forward to finding out what the voice is, or who...

Rae

[Kregor8]

I am about to use my amazing genie powers and grant Rae's wish!

It would have been interesting to see the arguement that actualy passed between Raven and Cyborg....
Well, now you'll get to see a part of it. Just a little part, but it ties in with the ending of the last chapter. Plus, we get to revist my favorite little fantasy world, "Raven's Mind." So I like this chapter. But you don't have to, if you don't want to (but you will, right? Of course. :p) Can you tell I'm in a good mood? Well, I am. So anyway, here goes the chapter.

Chapter 16

Streaming rays of morning sun hit Samantha’s closed eyes, willing the sleeper to awake. With a mumble of protest, she flung her arm over her eyes and rolled over. Of course, she rolled off the giant red couch, hitting the floor was a thud. She was awake now, like it or not.

She picked herself up and stretched, shaking the sleep out of her head with one parting yawn. Smiling dully, she noticed that she was still wearing the ill fitting clothes Violet had given her. Thankfully, she had not requested them back when she had attempted to blank her memory – Sam still couldn’t understand why she hadn’t been made a zombie like Violet’s parents had been. They had know the power existed, and had still succumbed to it. And according to Tim, they weren’t the only ones.

It was a little after 5:30, and Sam was feeling slightly hungry. She crossed to the kitchen area that was attached to the cavernous living room, but all the cupboards were bare. There were cups, plates, bowls, and silverware in abundance, but no food. The refrigerator probably held food, but as the piece of metal that Sam assumed was the refrigerator looked exactly like that – a solid block of metal – she left it alone. Settling for a glass of water, she sank into a leather chair intending to watch the city come alive.

Much to her disgust, she received a static shock every time she attempted to drink the water. Sinking into the recesses of the generously padded chair, and deeper into the gloom that had been threatening her for the past several days, she gently drifted back to sleep.

* * *

When Trent made his way to the kitchen at quarter to seven, Victor Stone was silently making eggs and bacon. Trent eyed the portions, and after deciding that Cyborg would eat about twice as much as he did, figured that there was about enough food for two people.

So, Raven’s already eaten. Either that or he’s still mad at her. Without turning around, Cyborg said gruffly,

“Go wake sleeping beauty up, will you?” He jerked his thumb toward a leather chair that was facing the bay windows. Silently, Trent obeyed. The large chair seemed to be swallowing the slender form of the girl, who slept peacefully, a glass of water clenched in one hand. The scene was so peaceful, so normal, that Trent couldn’t help but smile as he reached for the glass.

The electric shock he received as his fingers touched the glass swiftly removed any remnant of a smile from his face.

“Damn,” he hissed, knocking the glass into Samantha’s lap as he yanked his hand back. Sam’s eyes snapped open as the water splashed all over her too-short pants. The morose look he received in reward for his attempt at kindly awakening her was almost worse than any verbal outburst could have been. Thrusting the glass into his smarting hand, she stalked off to the kitchen.

Following after, Trent grimaced as Victor divided the food into two portions, giving one to Samantha and keeping the larger amount for himself. So he’s still mad at me too, Trent thought to himself. He refilled the glass with water and slid it across the small round table to Sam, but she didn’t bother to touch it.

Trent was just wondering what to do for breakfast when Raven arrived. Taking particular care not to look at Cyborg and Sam’s full plates, she proceeded to prepare eggs for herself and Trent. He simply stood and watched while she did this, only sitting down when she silently shoved a plate into his hands. He ate the eggs, which were quite passably done, and drank his water, and looked at his three silent companions, who took pains not to look at him or each other.

“Well good morning to you too!” he finally shouted, receiving a quite good morning from Sam, a curt nod from Victor, and a vicious glare from Raven. After that, they were silent again, until Raven spoke to Samantha.

“Today we will begin your training. I plan to spend the morning on it, and then you’ll have most of the afternoon to yourself.”

“What will we be doing?” Sam asked, pushing away her empty plate.

“First, we’ll find you some better clothes.” Raven got up from the table, deposited her plate in the sink, and left. Sam reached for the untouched glass of water Trent had filled, but when she still received a shock after attempting to drink, she chucked the cup back at Trent. The cup flew cleanly through Trent’s head, and smashed on the wall behind him. Cyborg looked at Trent with a raised eyebrow, and Sam ran after Raven.

“I’ll take care of it,” Trent said, deftly gathering the shard of glass that littered the floor.

“Does that always happen?” Victor Stone asked, pushing himself away from the table.

“I’m hoping she was just in a bad mood,” he answered, looking around for a trash can.

“To the left of the ‘fridge,” Cyborg said, anticipating his question. “What I meant was, do things always fly through you?”

“Oh, yeah, pretty much.”

“Then you’re practically immortal?” Tr