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!

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 The newest piece was the desk chair, and that was thirty years out of date.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.

[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]

Originally Posted by rrarbecy

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

Exactly what he said!

[Alura]

Originally Posted by Sprox 083

Exactly what he said!

I second that! Another Raven fanfic, more Raven fans! YES!!!

[starburn1116]

*i offer you my words of shocked silence*

*and not every one gets that*

[Crowgirl]

Originally Posted by starburn1116

*i offer you my words of shocked silence*

*and not every one gets that*

Agreed!! What else can I say?

[Alura]

Wow...

[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.

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]

Originally Posted by Kregor8

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

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!

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!)

Sorry about that...

Keep writing!

[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.

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 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.

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!!!