Wolf
A/N: And, I'm done! Finally, I can change my name happily!
In the undergrowth, greenery shifted. A small snuffling sound emerged, followed by a whining. A sudden burst of movement proved to be something green, rising out of something greener.
Beast Boy whined as his fur caught on a low-hanging branch, shaking himself out of his primitive concealment. Sure, he was as back-to-nature as it got, but he hated thistles. And thorns. And anything sharp that scored on his sides, really. Ambling out into a clearing, he parked himself on his haunches and stared up at the moon.
Half moon tonight, the wedge of it sitting fat and happy. He shook himself as a dog would, then parked himself back on his haunches. Shifting his head from right to left, he surveyed the entire woods around him, then sank down to rest his head on his paws. He missed the Titans.
Through Raven, they had all once taken a trip through Starfire's future memory. Seeing himself there shook him greatly. He'd let himself go fat! And he was a circus animal, showing off pathetically. A zoological mutant freak. Nothing, nothing like what the Doom Patrol and his parents, would have wanted for him. No...no matter if the Titans were broken up now, its members scattered to the farthest regions of the world and beyond; he was not going to get himself fat!
He missed them all though, dearly, dearly. Robin – no, Nightwing – was in Bludhaven, protecting his people; Cyborg watched over all the earth from the Watchtower. He was in Idaho currently, but he'd head back to Africa to protect its peoples soon enough. Starfire was back with her people, though she visited everyone occasionally, finding them easily. They reunited when Starfire was on Earth, or they'd go over to Bludhaven and 'help' Robin out, usually directly against his will. Robin was like that, though, so they ignored him. He enjoyed their help really, Beast Boy knew.
But Raven...Beast Boy whimpered, looking away with misty eyes. Raven...
When they went to help Robin, Raven was never there. She had simply vanished, one day. Her cloak had been white, but she hadn't said goodbye, and...well, he didn't like to think of that.
The life of a superhero is a lonely one. Trysts are few and far between, because there are a lot of criminals, and very few heroes. Beast Boy knew that, effective as he was, he was better on a team; his personality suited a team mentality well. Still, the Titans were his team, and he felt...odd, joining another superhero team. The Doom Patrol had been his family, more than it had been his team; the Titans were his team.
Beast Boy shook his ears, letting them flap. Pushing himself to his feet, he looked up at the moon. It hung lower in the sky. His fur rustled along his body, laying them flat as a wind shook it. His legs hunched, and he sprang away, a green wolf loping into the greenwoods.
The wind swirled. It twirled, and in a gasp, fell away. Raven stepped out of her portal, rising out of the moonbeam on the ground, cloaked in white.
She sank to the ground and watched the moon. Half moon, full moon, new moon; it mattered to her now.
"Beast Boy..." she murmured, a thread of white streaming between her hands. "You matter now."
There was a choked off howl somewhere from amidst the woods; a howl that changed to an excruciating scream and back to a hoarser, rawer howl. A monstrosity, the colour of sewer seaweed, rose out of the forest on leathery wings; the Beast forming lupine.
"Beast Boy," Raven said with a smile showing a hint of teeth, and narrowing, reddening eyes. "Beast Boy. Now, you matter."
Half moon.
A flash of green bearing down on the Penguin. The Penguin, prone on the street, his limbs sprawled in inhuman positions. His bodyguards lie around him sprawled in the bemusement of unworking bullets.
The Riddler, Eddie, relaxing on an off day for crime. A smattering of green, a splattering of red.
Arkham Asylum; Batman, having caught (again) a record number of his costumed supervillains, sitting back for a work well done. A roar – a thundering – leathery wings. Rubble. Dust. Photograph: Arkham Asylum, collapsed.
Bludhaven. Drugs, crooked cops, a cop car. Money tainted with corruption. An excruciating scream, one of constant pain. A ripping claw. Faces in rictus of horror. Stacks of Franklin's face dyed abrupt crimson.
Touchstone City. A woman, pink-haired. A sneaky hand, an inching towards priceless jewels. A small, whining scream just beyond the edge of human audibility. An alarm, set off by drop by drop of a life.
Africa. A white man in a black suit and shades pulling out a walkie-talkie. Forklifts. Bulldozers. Driving in the dark. A patch of forest reserved for the animals, for a hundred years. Greenery, shifting. A wolf with fanged eyes.
There is a deadly man in an orange mask. He feeds a venus flytrap. There is a breaking of glass. He draws a staff. There is a man in an orange mask who is not so deadly without internal organs.
A millionaire. Lex Luthor, nemesis extraordinaire. He thinks all about the green. There is green. If one doesn't have health, one has nothing.
Around the world. Cyborg, tracking. Alarms resound. He turns. There is a green wolf in front of him. It has no eyes. Its face has been clawed off. Bones show. From its shoulders, wings extrude. It is a familiar figure. It shifts. He watches Cyborg with salivating eyes. He is a zoological freak.
Half moon.
But at least he is not fat.