Author's Note: I plan to add to this one as time goes on, considering it's already complete in some for or another. I don't feel like a sequel is warranted, but I do feel like this could be a lot longer and more in-depth than its predecessor. Aside from that, enjoy this new version.
New Arrival
In a world of broken families, poverty and crime, the average person cannot afford a single miscalculation. The consequences are severe, more dire than death itself. Yet, people move. Men grab their bags of clothes and a wad of money and head to the nearest city promising a new life. Women sneak away in the tendrils of an inky night and arrive at a new bus station, eyes wide and hopes high. It's the start of a new story; the beginning of a new chapter, even with the inherited risk it carries.
Jump City was a place for people like that to runaway and restart, no matter the cost. Refugees, fugitives, standard class civilians and lords of the underground would arrive with dreams of conquest and ghosts of worry. Sure, it was bigger than most places. There were more jobs and more places to live, more colleges and more facilities. Amenities came with a price, though. Regardless of how well the city was protected, it was always open to new threats. Newborn horrors still happened. Most of them would be fought off, pushed back to their origins or destroyed. But in the grand course of time, all odds and evens being favorable to chance, the possibility exists that something unprecedented could arrive. Something infinite and ancient. It is only then that the integrity, stability and effectiveness of good can be tested again the forces of true evil.
Not the petty stealing or the ephemeral leftovers of a passionate murder. Not the misgivings of a fraud or the fame of a forgery. Not a drug lord serving substance to his customers, not a whore pleasuring the buyers of the streets. No, this was small time. A true force of evil has no principle. A drug lord keeps his stock, exchanges his illegal goods and services for capital or currency but an entity of darkness, something not bound by space and time, will not obey any principal, even its own.
With every moment, that something beyond good and evil approached.
It was pitch black outside, the only light provided by the man-made, sodium infused fixtures illuminating the streets. Underground, in the subways, all that could be heard were the rumbling of the passing trains and crumpled newspapers rolling around on the frigid concrete. Aboard a car in one of the trains, a single figure sat. Cast in darkness, the lone man, probably in his late teens or so, quietly sat in the darkness.
He studied it carefully. The newspaper had an advertisement listed, from what he could tell, very recently. Things had gone more than south where he'd come from, so, given he had CIA clearance, a position among the Teen Titans seemed inviting. From what he gathered, one of their members had left. Robin, their leader, had proposed work for someone qualified. The needed credentials were anything relating to law enforcement, government clearance or military experience.
CIA clearance sounded like it'd be good enough.
He stuffed the advertisement back in his trench coat pocket.
Buildings and dim, broken lights passed by the train as it moved forward. Torn paper and empty cups rolled along the train's floor, tapping against the walls. He sighed, returning back to his own devices. Wrapped in an obsidian black trench coat and a haze of shadows, he fumbled through a worn journal, shoving it back in his pocket. It was all that could be distinguished about him. The train slowly rumbled to a stop, hydraulics squealing with the eerie sound of metal kissing metal. The figure, silent and calculating, gathered up a single backpack with all of his belongings stuffed inside and stood. The door slid wide, welcoming to his new home: Jump City. After a few glances and a rolling cloud of steam, smoke gracing the subway station ahead, he paced out into the open.
The station was, for lack of a better word, a tomb. The only sound was that of light traffic drifting from up above. It came down in thin blankets, wrapping its hopeless melody around the few homeless people and passersby. The figure slowly began to stalk across the open area of the underground station until he reached the stairs, kicking a few empty cups and bits of broken bottle along the way. Slow footfalls, muffled by stale air, echoed quietly off the walls. The night seeped in, mixing with the basement odors of the city. He stood atop the stairwell and surveyed his surroundings. It was a placid evening, save for a few police sirens in the distance and some passing cars.
The figure began walking into the city.
"So, what are we going to do now?" Robin asked, pacing the kitchen.
"Hell if I know," Cyborg yawned and shrugged his shoulders, scratching somewhere on his cybernetic head.
Robin growled in reply, "I put out an ad in the paper, but I seriously doubt anyone around here is up to the job. I question if we are sometimes," he said.
Cyborg didn't respond. It had been three perplexing days since Beast Boy had left the Teen Titans. He had said it was of personal matters, important things he desperately needed to tend to and that they should temporarily replace him, nothing more. Regardless, everyone had been confused but didn't question him. To the best of the group's knowledge, nothing fantastic had happened. Drama was thin if there at all. For a while, they dug; accusing one or the other of instigating it, perhaps a hidden affair or someone with their hands in the cookie jar. Maybe even Beast Boy's. The arguments eventually faded to quiet murmurs.
The conclusion? Beast Boy really had something do to, but he'd be back… eventually. Well, possibly. Maybe.
Now, they were looking for a replacement, someone to fill Beast Boy's shoes. Expectations weren't high to begin with. Morale was low and the promise of a new Titan was met with skepticism. Time passed, seconds turned to minutes and night turned to day and whatever the hell happens in between. Robin had been searching ever since he had left and come up with nothing. It was a vacuum of progress at best.
"Come on! There must be something or someone you can think of?" Robin questioned, slamming his hands on the tabletop. Again, Cyborg shrugged. He couldn't help but feel irritated, frankly pissed, with Robin badgering him, but he was too tired to do anything about it. Robin needed someone to talk to so he hadn't let Cyborg go when the girls had gone to bed, the threesomes becoming an addiction for the lot of them.
"Mad you're not getting any tonight?"
Cyborg flipped him off.
"Whatever," Robin sensed someone in the room and spun around.
Starfire stood in the doorway, looking very tired.
"Could you be kind enough to keep your voice down? Others are trying to sleep, you know," she said, rubbing her bloodshot eyes, clad in panties and a bra. For a moment, her figure and smooth skin distracted him.
"Well, I-"
"See something you like?" she asked, placing a hand on her hip.
"Uh, sorry. But with Beast Boy gone, we got a serious problem, one we need to talk about right now," Robin insisted.
Star shook her head and left. She vanished back into the darkness, the sound of a door closing met with Cyborg and Robin's silence.
Cyborg hunched forward, sighing. "You know, you could probably get laid by both of them if you quit being like this."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Cyborg shrugged.
"We have responsibility, Cyborg. Serious responsibility here."
Cyborg groaned inwardly; sleep wasn't coming, not tonight. Once Robin was on one of his personal quests, he didn't stop until it was finished.
Usually. From what Cyborg could tell, tonight was one of those 'usual' nights.
He stood in front of the massive tower set upon the coast of the ocean. The height was enough to make him question a very deep, long-forgotten fear of heights. Tilting his head, he looked at the contours and lack of curves, realizing the thing was shaped like a massive T. This was it – the ad in the paper, demonstrated in physical glory as a checkpoint in an arcade game. He slowly began walking up to the tower as he had been for the whole way there, every step calculated, collected and aware.
Alert.
He approached the main entrance, arriving in front solid doors and a panel with what appeared to be an intercom system. He stared for a moment, pressing the button.
Would they ignore him?
Maybe they'd scurry.
He didn't know.
The figure, wrapped in his heavy duster of a trench coat, could only imagine the reactions. Indifference? Excitement? Repulsion? Scenarios ran through his head in waves. Each left an imprint, a sort of reminder like all things had in his life. Life purpose was a ball of anxiety – even he expected this. Yet, anxiety would still attempt to possess him. Every moment was a battle with his inner self and no matter how exhausting, the young man kept his wits sharp with surgical precision.
He stood patiently and waited for a reply.
Robin was in the middle of a sentence when he heard the intercom buzz. His brows perked; maybe, just maybe, salvation had arrived. Cyborg stood, turning with a glare to the comm unit. "Who in the hell is calling this late?"
"Maybe it's someone about the job," Robin replied.
"Come on, man."
Robin waved a finger. "You know, I understand you're tired, but maybe you could try to lift the morale around here?"
"Everyone's got to grow up sometime," Cyborg muttered.
Robin returned the kind gesture of Cyborg's middle finger presented earlier, hurrying to the intercom. No quicker than a blink of an eye, he pressed for a reply.
"Yeah?"
There was a moment of silence that was eventually broken by a stoic voice.
"I'm here about the job," was the only reply.
"Really?"
"Really," the voice responded.
"Do you have clearing papers?" Robin asked.
"Yes."
"Um, okay...we'll meet you in a minute," Robin said.
A minute had passed. Most of them were awake by now. The calamity of a late night call brought mystery. In their line of work, you had to keep on edge, ready to leap into the canyon of battle at a moment's notice (even if the notice wasn't there at all). Passing through the metal and concrete tinged glow, the groggy Starfire and her more alert counterparts, Cyborg and Robin, began heading downstairs.
The lone figure waited outside the massive tower as rain began to fall, pouring over his stone expression. The small droplets of water ran off of his trench coat, tapping on the steel tipped boots he was sporting. Patience was a virtue, apparently. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the doors opened to reveal three people standing inside. He stood, recognizing each face and body from various sources he'd previously encountered ranging from news articles to fan conventions of local crime fighters.
"Come in," Robin, the leader, asked.
The nameless man didn't make a move for several seconds, only staring and studying the few famed individuals standing before him. After a moment of scrutiny, the figure paced inside with such calm it rivaled the eye of notorious storms. The doors shut firmly, echoing into the Tower's corridors. The figure, still drenched from rainfall, found himself in a long hall with a single door at the end and two sliding doors on the middle-right section of the hallway that was surely an elevator.
Robin spoke first. "You said you were here about the job, right?"
They began walking down the hall, the lone figure only nodding. They reached the doorway, his body language seemingly devoid of emotion. From there they entered a large recreation room with a massive TV, video games, a stereo system and a huge, curving couch. Seems like a nice gig, the nameless man thought, still glancing around with silent precision.
"Won't you have a seat?" Starfire asked.
"The sofa doesn't bite," Cyborg assured him.
The nameless individual shook his head and went to stand in the center of the room, as if waiting for something. Unease filled the room, the three Titans sitting on the curved couch, eyes fixated on the dark stranger. In the light he could be seen more clearly; a rough, worn face, a head of closely cropped black hair and icy, focused blue eyes. He removed his backpack, setting it on a table next to him with a precarious grip. His trench coat followed, revealing a toned figure. Underneath, he wore a dark black long-sleeved shirt, black baggy jeans complete with tears, and steel tipped combat boots made from leather darker than a stained volcano.
"Obviously I can't just let someone into the tower. Paperwork?"
The figure dredged through his pocket and handed off an envelope stamped by the CIA. "Pertinent information is here."
"That looks real!" Starfire exclaimed.
The figure nodded.
"It does, Starfire," Robin examined the seal, "the seal on it look a bit different, but this is a real CIA envelope, at least."
"Classified work," the figure said.
"Oh?"
The figure nodded.
"Top secret," Cyborg laughed, "let me see that."
Robin hand it to Cyborg. He all but snatched it from Robin's hands, running a scan of it with a laser from one of his built-in gadgets. "That's a real CIA radio tag in it, so it's legitimate."
"Can you tell us a little bit about yourself? We're not going to just hand out the job, no offense," Robin asked, breaking the silence.
"I think he's about to," Cyborg added.
"Shut up, Cyborg," Robin folded his hands together, removing his scowl from the man and machine hybrid. "So? Abilities?"
"Yes," the young man nodded, "I have enhanced physical abilities and believe that I am capable of fulfilling the duties of a Titan."
"What's your name?" Starfire asked.
"Seth Obsidian," he replied.
"Like the rock?" Cyborg asked.
Seth nodded.
Again, an uneasy silence. Was it his last name? It sounded like something pulled from a cartoon or worse, a serial novel. Unbelievable, sure, but the situation was fantastic enough.
"That's an... interesting name. Now, when you say 'enhanced physical abilities', what do you mean?" Robin asked.
"You'll know soon enough. I'm a little worn out from the night, but as a sample..." Seth replied in a level, monotonous voice, "I can show you something minor."
"That'd be useful but it better be better than minor, if you know what I mean," Cyborg pointed at him.
"We're not just going to let you stay here because you said that you can be a hero," Robin shrugged, almost laughing at the implications.
"Fair enough," Seth glanced around the room, "make a move."
Cyborg laughed heartily. "Oh wow, make a move?"
"Yes."
Robin grinned. "Alright. Hold on Cyborg, hold on. Any?"
Seth nodded. "Any."
"From one of us? Or," Starfire hovered above the ground, "a particular Titan in question, Seth Obsidian?"
"Any."
"I call it," Robin said.
"Are you sure?" Seth asked.
Robin laughed. "Yeah. When I say-"
In the blink of an eye, Robin lashed forward, throwing one of his impromptu swords. Following directly behind the flying blade was Robin, ready to strike a blow against Seth. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Robin abruptly stopped, Seth holding the sword between but two fingers. He set it on a nearby table, licking the tiny cut on his finger.
"It was sharpened well," wiped the blood on his pant leg.
Robin scoffed. "Alright, you can catch a sword, and a pretty fast one."
"He's the only one who's come in so far, Robin," Starfire sat into the sofa next to Cyborg, "and he's oh so fast."
Robin bit his lip and exhaled slowly. "What's in the bag?"
"Clothes and the like."
"Can you stick to a schedule? Can you be there when we need you? Training and first thing in the morning, and I need to see more," Robin stood directly in front of him.
"So long as I can sleep," Seth replied.
"Alright, Seth, you got the job. But for now, let's get some rest. We'll sort the rest out in the morning," Robin finished, "and try not touch anything except your room and your stuff. We have cameras here."
Robin headed back out into the hall, towards the elevator. Everyone else followed. As they reached the top of the T Tower where the dorms were located, Starfire, Cyborg and Robin paced out of the elevator, somewhat avoiding Seth.
"Starfire, will you show him to a room?" Robin asked.
"Of course," Starfire replied as Robin and Cyborg began heading to their own rooms, motioning for Seth to follow her. Invitations were bliss in his eyes, though he never expressed this. Regardless, he did so, holding his trench coat and backpack under one arm.
"So are you new in town, Seth?"
He almost laughed at her question.
Seth shrugged. "I'm new everywhere I go."
The hallway approached an end, their pace slowing. Starfire came to a stop, crossing her arms and nodding. The door, while polished and clean, implied a small, ignored room hidden within. Perfect, Seth thought.
"Well, here you go," Starfire said.
Seth shouldered his bag. "Seems good enough. Thanks."
"If you need anything, let us know," Starfire explained, "and do be courteous, as you are our guest."
"I thought it goes the other way around, given I'm your guest?"
She grinned. "Goodnight. Be ready in the morning."
"Sure."
Star only nodded, then turned and began heading towards her room, which wasn't too far from the way they'd come. Seth watched her go, amused at their uncomfortable nature around him. Granted, he would likely be uncomfortable if someone showed up at his house, homeless and claiming such wonders and abilities. Schizophrenia comes to mind. Psychosis and a bad habit of running through money (hence homelessness). He pressed a button on the wall, the door sliding open with little resistance. A quick probing of the dark adjacent wall revealed a switch which he promptly flipped. A synthetic, titanium white glow basked the room, each corner and nook exposed in the inanimate nude. Not too bad, he thought. There was a large bed in one corner accompanied by a night stand with a lamp and clock on it and what appeared to be a boom box, the kind you give your brat of a child to blast rebellious music.
It didn't look too dirty, aside from a cobweb or two.
In another corner, tucked away in the aftereffects of light scattering on the solid walls, a desk with paper, pens and a comfortable chair. In a third corner was a cherry-maple dresser and a full length mirror, just what Seth needed to examine himself should the time arise.
Everything else being equal, he couldn't help but wonder why everything else was metal, concrete and glass and his dresser was made of wood. Robin's comment about an unkempt room came to mind. The final corner, a modest one, contained a small closet and a bathroom with a shower stall, toilet, sink, counter and medicine cabinet.
Seth Obsidian tossed his things down onto the ground and strode across the room, the door sliding shut behind him. Automatic doors, he grinned beneath his expressionless face, were to be expected. Removing his shirt and pants was easy enough, followed by socks, leaving only the boxer-briefs and a worn, sculpted body. He crawled under the blankets of the bed and immediately fell into a deep sleep, ready to fend of the nightmares his mind would bring.