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Premiani Penthouse, Haney Apartments. Jump City. 2247 Hours. 18 JULY 2014
In the dark of the night, Jump City's lights glowed in buildings and along streets, staunch defenders against the encroaching gloom, signalmen of life's presence. Overlooking their amber burn, high above the roads and the cumbersome transports that trundled along them, was a pale, trim woman. A dark dress that seemed to hold the cosmos in its design swept along her body, tying behind her neck to leave her shoulders and arms bare. The hem pulled up short in the front, revealing a part of her shins and her heels, but slithered across the floor behind her as she shifted her weight. Wrapped about her slender neck was a thick collar of white fur and the hand, cradling the long-stemmed wine flute in delicate fingers, rested against it. Ebony hair, to contrast her smooth, porcelain skin, was piled atop her head, interwoven with silvery threads. Her bearing was regal as she stood poised at the large window, her unoccupied arm folded beneath her modest bosom. Hazel eyes flickered over the city, and as she gazed at the lights in the windows, a small pink tongue licked over her full lips.
Finally, she turned and approached the line of men and women who were forced to kneel upon the tiled floor of the penthouse apartment, stripped of their attire save for their undergarments. Murderous rage painted their features, but their wrists and ankles were bound together behind their backs with biting cord that had started to strip away the flesh of the more violent members of the assembly. Standing watch over them with too-blue eyes was a broad, ugly man who had jammed a wool cap over the top of his head. A canvas jacket was pulled over his thick frame and hung open, revealing the crimson t-shirt beneath it. His cargo pants were tucked into heavy workman boots that were ferociously scuffed and bore some rather ominous stains.
"Buona sera, signore e signori," said the woman as she set her thin glass on a nearby counter. "I am Alondra Arnetti. You may have heard of me."
"Arnetti?" one of them whispered, fear in his eyes. "You-You're -"
"I have also been called the Vulture. I'll accept either," she said, eyes glittering. "And you are the crime lords of Jump City. I thought it was about time we meet - cara a cara."
"Listen, I don't care what stupid name you call yourself, you dumb cunt, but if you don't untie me right now, my boys are going to hunt you down and make you -"
Alondra's expression was bored as the thickly muscled man spewing threats suddenly had his face, without any warning or preamble, smashed into the floor, producing a large snap as his nose broke. He gave a short scream as Alondra's brutish comrade dragged him back into a kneeling position and nodded to his employer. She gave a short smile and continued, "Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I would like to turn your attention to more pressing matters. Parliamo di business. A few months ago, I came to your bella citta and found it deprived of the unique market I provide. I immediately remedied this, and while it has been slow, like any start is, it's steadily growing."
She paused, taking in the scowling men and women before her, and then continued with mock apology, "Ahora, we need to expand, and I have realized something. There are too many cooks in this kitchen, but that is no fault of my own. I had a way to solve our problems. Un remedio. I dispatched messengers to you with offers– and despite a certain, wise adage; they kept winding up with bullets in them. Thus, I was forced to take the drastic measures we currently find ourselves in."
"You were demanding a fifteen percent cut of all our profits!" snapped a heavyset woman with a short mop of curly red hair. "What did you think was going to happen?!"
"Le discussioni. Civil discourse," she shrugged daintily. Her features turned serious and she stressed, "And it's not too late for that. I will forgive your transgressions and welcome you into the fold for a mere seventeen percent payment from all your profits."
"Excuse me, but I would like to point out that there are – ten, eleven, twelve– there are sixteen of us, each with our own gangs and such, but there is only one of you," noted a handsome, athletically sculpted man. He gave a charming smile, "I hate to upset a pretty girl, but I think you may want to consider the odds again."
Alondra nodded as though considering the statement before her hand suddenly flashed towards her wine flute. She smashed the glass against the table while her enforcer seized the man and tilted his head back. He struggled vainly as Alondra forced the stem up his nostril, pushing past the momentary barrier with a sickening crunch as she plunged it into his brain. His struggles suddenly ceased and the dark-haired woman leaned over him, watching the light fade from his eyes and giving a toothy grin before she released him, leaving the glass stem in place. Shifting his grip, her compatriot bodily cast the carcass out of the line. Straightening, Alondra gazed at the remaining criminal kingpins, smoothed out her dress, and made her next offer.
"Twenty percent."
Nobody responded as they exchanged uneasy glances, occasionally peering back towards the corpse before inadvertently catching the unnatural gaze of the broad-shouldered man. Massaging her temples, she sighed, "Look, none of you are stupid. Not completely. I mean, while every other lackwit was running around in their pajamas, playing 'King of the Mountain' with a bunch of ninos, you turned to subtler crimes – and that's benefitted you. Now, with all those perdedores on ice, where do you think the Twerp Titans are going to look next?"
"What are you suggesting?" asked one of them cautiously.
"Symbiosis," she said, meshing her hand together. "You will continue on your business and me on my own, with the payment we discussed, and I will ensure you remain untroubled by the Titans."
"If you've got as much strength as you seem to think you have, why don't you just kill the Titans?"
"Tal vez sobrestimado su inteligencia," she muttered before drawing in a fortifying breath. She answered, "I don't know if any of you idiots have noticed, but the superhero community is rather close-knit, and they do not appreciate when one of their number is killed. If at all possible, I'd like to avoid bringing the Justice League down on my head."
There was another moment of silence and exchanged glances, including one of suffering between Alondra and her companion who shrugged apologetically, and finally there were scattered agreements. However, the stout woman with red hair scoffed, "You're all a bunch of pussies. This bitch doesn't -"
The large man casually placed a hand atop the woman's head and rested another upon her shoulder before dispassionately twisting her neck about with a sickening crack. He casually tossed her onto the other body and said, "All further disparagements made concerning the boss babe shall from henceforth result in the transgressor's sudden cessation of life."
"Gracias, Cash," she beamed. "Now please release our guests who have accepted the offer and point them towards their clothes and the exit. Oh, and please send for a murder of my Carogne Uccelli."
"I shall convey the missive," he nodded as he kneeled behind the first proponent to undo the sturdy knots. As he did, he whispered instructions into the man's ear, along with what he felt to be a suitable number of threats, and finally released him. The pale, trembling man bolted for the door as Cash shifted to the next person in line, and began the process anew.
While he worked through those who had agreed to the arrangements, Alondra strutted towards the kitchen of the lavish apartment and pulled a new flute from one of the cabinets. She considered the wine shelf before pulling out a heavy, red wine that she filled the glass with and then returned to her captives, only the staunch holdouts remaining with their shoulders square and their jaws set. Alondra regarded them until the door finally opened and dark, armored figures slid into the room, their boots whispering across the floor.
She smiled at her Carrion Birds, her Carogne Uccelli with their faces hidden behind beaked masks, and said, "These are the fools who have refused my generous offer. You know what to do."
Steely talons dug into skin as the flock dragged away the captives who thrashed in vain, violent struggles, merely gouging the cord about their wrists and ankles deeper into their flesh. They roared obscenities at the pale woman who gave a small smile and took a long draught from her glass. After the dark-garbed figures had disappeared with their captives, Alondra looked to Cash and said, "Ensure that their men see what happens to those who dare to stand against me."
"Consider it wrought, boss babe," he nodded before lumbering from the room.
Premiani Penthouse. 0319 Hours. 19 JULY 2014
Several hours later found Alondra once again admiring the city as they crawled towards the dawn, a new drink in her hand. Cash lounged on a nearby couch, hammering at the buttons of a handheld game console as he urged his character onward before pausing and looking up suddenly. The game flickered into the long sleeves of his jacket as he rocked onto his feet and announced, "Doc Sanders and the neophyte avian are approaching the ingress of our domicile."
"'Ingress?' En serio?" she smirked, arching a brow as she turned to regard him.
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and said, "It's a good word."
"Oh, I'm sure. Let them in," she instructed.
As the door to the penthouse swung open, two people entered the lavish domain. The first was a handsome, dark-skinned man with a clean-shaven head and a well-kept goatee, attired in scrubs and a long, white coat. He was supported by an ornate cane and his entry was cautious, taking great care to avoid provoking any of the inhabitants, and he exchanged a companionable nod with Cash.
At the newcomer's side was one of the Cargone Uccelli, clad in the foreboding body armor the group wore, covered in pouches and scalpels. On her breastplate was the small image of a vulture's silhouette, a star floating over its head. Her face was obscured by a beaked mask, like those of ancient plague doctors, with crimson lenses for its eyes. Nimble fingers were tipped with scalpel-like talons that gleamed cruelly in the light of the moon reaching through the windows that formed the exterior wall. She was not particularly tall, but she carried herself with a fearless swagger and a presence to match the looming bodyguard who posted next to Alondra as she faced her subordinates.
"It's all taken care of?" she asked.
The pair shared a short glance before the man took a breath and said, "Yes, Ms. Arnetti. Everything has been catalogued, sorted, and stored."
"Gracias, Dr. Sanders," she nodded before looking towards her protector.
"Digital documentation has been delivered to the requested audiences," he informed her.
She smiled and took a long sip from her glass, sighing contentedly as she lowered it. Turning to the city again, she looked out across the now-darkened windows and her gaze drifted towards the peculiarly shaped tower seated in the bay. Her gaze slid to the reflections in the window and she said, "Signora Krahen."
"Ma'am," the armored woman responded sharply and snapped to attention.
"Signore Corvin spoke highly of you when he recommended you for this position. Are you prepared to lead my Cargone Uccelli?"
"Yes, ma'am," she answered. Her voice was firm and resolute though turned somewhat hollow by her mask.
Alondra smiled and turned, "No hesitation. Buona. We will need that. This city holds an enemy we have been fortunate thus far to avoid: Superheroes."
"Garishly adorned vigilantes," Cash grunted.
"Vero. However, do not think we can underestimate them. They regularly thwarted Slade Wilson's plots, and, just last year, defeated the 'Brotherhood of Evil,'" she said.
"Anybody adopting that abomination of an appellation deserves castigation of a predominantly physical nature," grumbled the large man.
"Are you through practicing your alliteration?"
He gave a thumbs up, "Floor's yours, boss babe."
"Gracias," she rolled her eyes before continuing, "Their presence means we will have to operate with greater care than usual, but I do have a plan that will make it easier. We cannot afford to make mistakes, and money will be tight for a time. Therefore, nothing can be wasted. Not a slice, not a stroke, not a single drop of blood. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," Krahen snapped while the disgraced surgeon beside her nodded.
"Have you managed to contact the Taipan?" the dark-haired woman asked suddenly, looking to the brute looming at her side.
He shrugged, "There is not so much as a susurration concerning his whereabouts and status."
"I am beginning to suspect that you're making up words, Cashy."
"Susurration; noun. A soft murmur; whisper."
"What have we said about reading the dictionary?" she scolded with a mocking smile.
"Given your inability to express yourself in lucid English, I am incognizant."
"Io parlo inglese bene. Maybe you should try learning another language instead of digging up words that should have stayed dead and buried."
The debate was interrupted by a polite cough and the shining eyes swung towards Dr. Sanders who grimaced and asked, "Do you, uh, do you need us for anything else?"
"No," said the dark-haired woman. "You are free to go."
"Have a good nigh – morning, Miss Arnetti. Cash," he nodded to both and then turned to depart. Krahen offered a sharp salute that the crime lord accepted with a curt nod before she turned sharply and left the odd pair to the apartment. With a pleased hum, the pale woman turned towards her window again and smiled as she gazed across the cityscape.
"Bello. I will never grow tired of this view," she mused softly.
Cash approached her shoulder, peering down towards the distant street and said, "At some juncture, I wish to defenestrate an interloper of some sort from this vantage."
"You would allow a fool to get that close to me?"
She pouted up at him and her hand stroked his thick neck, cradling his heavy jaw as she felt the thrumming beneath his rough skin and he frowned, considering the window longingly. Finally, he sighed, "Course not, boss babe."
"Bravo ragazzo, Cash," she smiled, reaching up to plant a small kiss on his cheek. She leaned against him, draining the final drops from her glass and staring at it sadly as though commanding it to fill up once again. When it refused her mental commands, she crossed her arms and studied the dark buildings.
A city was a living thing, a great beast that devoured its own citizens to survive. Industry and commerce was its heart and blood vessels while the structures, from the towering skyscrapers to the lowly hovels, were the teeth grindings its prey to nothing. Streets were simply the digestive track, shuffling the people to where the great beast needed them. As her thoughts turned hazy and she began to droop against Cash, her full lips pulled into a predatory grin as she murmured, "And I shall feast until I have picked its bones clean."
Main Room, Titan's Tower. 1351 Hours. 20 JULY 2014
"Bored. Bored, bored, bored. Bored, bored-bored-bored. Boredboredboredbored-"
"Garfield," Raven snapped, interrupting her verdant teammate's rhythmic rambling. "Unless you wish to find yourself in a dimension of endless pain and fire, I suggest you either find a means of entertaining yourself or keep quiet."
"At least it'd be more exciting than this," he gestured to the Tower's predominantly empty main room, bathed in the afternoon sun. He lounged upside down upon the couch, his head hanging over its edge while his feet dangled over its back. Beside him, the grey-skinned sorceress had been attempting to work through one of her tomes before the chant had invaded her head and every darkly inked word had started looking the same.
Following their trip to Tokyo, Robin and Starfire had entered a relationship, rather tentatively, and the former of the pair was surprisingly anxious about public displays between himself and the object of his affection. To the latter's consternation, the Boy Wonder only consented to days out in the city with a pair of holorings that Cyborg had been commissioned to craft. The resident tech genius was, once again, lavishing his car with attention, and with no end in sight, the young changeling was left without a comrade willing to indulge in their mutual interests. Crime seemed to be going the way of the dinosaurs with all but a few of the Brotherhood of Evil still imprisoned, and the mere presence of the Titans discouraging others from taking up their roles. They had yet to face any superhuman or supernatural threat since the strange, adapting creature, and Slade seemed to have disappeared.
"You would rather the city be under threat by some intergalactic warlord?" she asked.
Beast Boy hesitated before admitting, "Okay, maybe not that bored. But seriously, this is kinda ridiculous. Is it too much to ask for just one little bank robbery, or some sorta natural disaster, or something?"
"Yes."
He lifted his head to glare at her, but she paid him no heed as the words in her book finally straightened themselves out. Realizing that his visual daggers were bouncing uselessly off her shield of indifference, he said, "How can you stand sitting there for hours? Waitaminnit. That came out wrong."
"What a surprise," she noted. "And I fail to see how it's any different from you melding with the couch as you play video games, albeit healthier."
"You know, you're always mocking my games, but some of 'em have really intense stories and make you figure out puzzles and stuff."
"I'm not playing them, Garfield."
"Oh, come on! Can you at least admit that they're not as bad as you constantly make'em out to be?" he pleaded, still hanging upside down off the couch.
"No."
There was a light pressure on her lap, and she peered over her nook at the fluffy kitten on her thighs, the large, shining green eyes imploring her to give in.
"Pwetty, pwetty pwease, Waven?"
"It's Raven," she answered, returning to her book as a telekinetic push toppled the animal from her lap. "And no."
Seeming to signal the end of the argument, the alarm activated and Beast Boy shifted into his human form as the room was drenched in crimson light, darting to the keyboard that emerged below the massive screen. A map of the city filled the television screen before focusing on a pulsating dot as Robin and Starfire entered, the former adjusting his domino mask. Beast Boy smirked and chuckled as his fingers danced across the keyboard, and the team's leader was thankful for the red light that hid his blush. Cyborg emerged from the elevator as Raven closed her book and dropped it into a portal that returned it to her room.
"What's up?" Robin asked as he stood at the green youth's shoulder.
"I'm sure that Starfire could name one or two things. Well, mostly one," snickered the changeling who then automatically ducked his head, evading the grey hand. "Behaving, behaving. Anyway, it looks like we have some sort of meta activity going on. No real description of it though."
"Well, let's go find out. I've been itchin' to test out some new upgrades," Cyborg smiled as he patted his arm affectionately.
"See?" Beast Boy hissed to Raven with a smirk. "I'm not the only one who thinks it's gotten boring."
Downtown Jump City. 1413 Hours. 20 JULY 2014
"Be a simplllllllle kind of man . . . Oh, be somethin' you can love and understanddddd . . ."
Accompanying the off-key caterwauling was the crackle of flames and the screams of the citizens as they fled the spray of fire. At their origin was an imposing figure in drab green power armor, the blaze dancing in the black lenses of his mask. The remainder of his mask was featureless and his armor was scarred and battered from past expeditions. Arrayed along his gauntlets were nozzles that belched forth the roiling flame and cables extended from his elbows, feeding into the humped back of his suit. Police sirens shrieked through the air and the man grunted as he glanced over his shoulder at the rapidly approaching cars.
"All that I want for you, my son . . . Is to be satisfiiiieddddd!" he sang as he turned away from them, discs opening on his suit's back to unleash a barrage of rockets. They swooped towards the cruisers, crashing into them and sending them flipping through the air as the attacker continued belting lyrics, clenching his fists. His heartfelt rendition did not save the song from his utter butchery of its tune and rhythm.
"Won't you do this for me, son . . . If you caaaaaannnnnnn-uhff!"
He was interrupted by a sudden blow to the back of his head, and he stumbled forward before recovering quickly. With a growl, he turned to find himself facing a quintet of gaudily adorned youths, and the green boy arched his brows at the armored figure.
"Dude, you need to decide if you're attacking the city with fire or singing. Those schticks just don't mesh."
"Why the hell aren't y'all kids in school? Ah tell yah, teenage delinquency these days. It's a damn shame," he grumbled in annoyance, shaking his head in disappointment. "Guess I'll jus' have to school y'all myself."
"You're welcome to try," Robin said as he drew his staff before levering it at the armored man. "Titans, go!"
Welcome one and all to our new story! The villains and many of the side characters featured in this story are our own beloved creations and while they shall certainly be featured prominently (we have to establish and develop them whereas we simply have to develop the Titans), we shall try to keep it evenly balanced.
And the BBRae relationship is coming. We're building up to it.
Anyway, please let us know what you think! Thanks for reading.