F.E.A.R. 2.5: The Regent Initiative
Author's Note: What's Up, People?! I'm here with another Teen Titans fanfic, this time a crossover, (guess with what?) something to play with between chapters of Breaking the Mold, in an AU (alternate universe) with two new characters. One is my creation, a meta named stray who had undergone genetic experimentation, and one is my editor's (roommate's), named Mimic, his older brother. I'd go into a major back story , but most of what they can do and who they are will be revealed in this story. If you are not new to my works, don't worry, this has nothing to do with Reflex's stories, and this IS the first time I'm using these guys.
It's so easy to throw new characters into the DC universe. Have fun!
Chapter 1: Operation Genesis
"In the early years of Perseus, many experiments were held, many unsuccessful. Most people were aware of Paxton Feddel's 'success', and none dared question Alma's power...."
"... But little knew of one experiment that had been mistakenly labeled as a failure. But maybe it wasn't a mistake that they had locked it away. Locked her away. For their tests and procedures had been successful. More than they wished. It had taken more than everything they had to lock her away, to prevent her from using her power. Abusing it. Killing her in the end seemed the only way to truly ensure the safety of their world, their minds.
But killing her had only done so much as to aide her in her goals. It allowed her to discover new powers, new potential. They say that death is only the beginning, but it seemed they had answered a question that no one dare ask: the beginning to what?
And that answer... was Caroline."
-Journal entry recovered from wreckage of an undisclosed military base. Author unknown.
*--*
The Titans had gone through many team members since their founding, some very strange, some very powerful, all of them unique. To say that Stray and Mimic were the most unique, or the most powerful, or the most memorable, really the most anything, would be a lie. Their powers were as individual as anyone's, strong in their own ways, weak in others, but they had adapted to their existence, and made the most of what they could do.
Unfortunately, there seemed to exist a fine line between what they could do, and what they thought they could do. And they crossed it frequently. With much pomp and circumstance. And they enjoyed every minute of it. They weren't bad people, nor did they make it their goal or their life's work to cause problems for their teammates. They simply deemed that most people took the world much to seriously, and needed to lighten up a bit.
Such as when they took the time to mess with Robin. Or, as the "Brothers Mischief", their less than affectionate label, liked to refer to him, Mr. Anal Forest. Called so, "for the large quantity of trees that he needs to remove from his ass," according to Mimic.
"This can't be a good idea," Stray commented yet again from his perch in the rafters.
"You've said this," countered Mimic, currently hard at work rigging some wires and props to Robin's doorway. Given that the doors slide in and out of the wall, the usual bucket-over-the-door trick was rendered useless. So some ingenuity was required. Mostly involving some temporary shelving, trip wires, and magnetic clips.
"I know. That doesn't mean I'm any less right," the catty teen sneered.
"It also doesn't mean that this will be any less fun, gratifying to watch, or justified. So shut up."
"You know that's not going to happen," the younger brother said, hopping down from his perch. He took a moment to appraise his older sibling's handiwork, nodding approvingly.
"That doesn't make it any less of a good idea," Mimic stood up, pleased with his accomplishments, then led Stray in to the room opposite Robin's, where they had taken steps to modify the wall for observation purposes. "You can control every muscle in your body individually, in ways I don't want to know about, yet you can't seem to stop running your mouth. What's the point of being some cracked-out cat boy if you can't even control yourself? That's the base thing for cats, self control. Now stop whining."
"Hey, you know as well as I do that there's more than cat in me. Just because they gave me the damn ears and tail, doesn't mean that's how I have to live. And besides, you can copy my abilities whenever you want, so you should be able to exert just as much self-control as you claim me to have when you want to, so why can't you keep us out of trouble?" Stray retorted, readjusting his black cadet hat and red bandanna to lay his ears flat. The last pieces of his costume, they were the finishing touches to his Gakuen, a popular school uniform that consisted of a black coat, pants, and dress shoes, accented with gold colored buttons and lining for the cuffs and collar. His tail looped through his belt loops, a lazy attempt to camouflage his more-than-defining features. His scruffy blonde hair drastically contrasted with the primary colors of his outfit, and the dark hues of his fur.
"Because it's funny that way," Mimic said simply, in that tone that one uses when they assume that that's all they need to say to win an argument. In this case, however, he was correct. Stray took his time to make himself comfortable on a couch in the makeshift living room, a poor attempt at having more than just the common room to sit and talk.
Stray sighed and forfeited the conversation then and there, taking solace in a random book on the coffee table, something about lighthouses of the world, no doubt a text acquired by someone who thought these books were standard fare in every sitting room ever.
Mimic, however, had made camp in a lounge chair set at a conspicuous angle to the wall, just right of the door, where he had made some "adjustments" to the paneling, allowing him to see into the hallway. He twitched every now and then, whenever movement caught his eye, but never wavered in his focus on the door across the hall from him.
They stayed that way for a while.
*--*
Elsewhere, in some random hallway in the tower...
"Starfire, do you care to explain why you've dragged me out of my room in the middle of the day, when there is absolutely nothing going on, and I finally have a moment of peace and quiet to steady myself? I haven't meditated since yesterday morning, and I'm feeling... twitchy.," Raven's signature droning tones echoed through the hallway after a certain alien, as she hovered down the corridor with a look of grave seriousness adorning her usually cheerful face.
"I am concerned that our teammates are up to the "no good" again. I have not seen them for quite some time, and have heard whispers around the tower for many hours now. I do not wish to be caught by one of their 'life lessons' again." She peeked around a corner, then snapped her head back in place with such speed and purpose, that she needed to take a moment to readjust it on her shoulders again.
"Starfire, I seriously doubt that looking for them when you suspect that they're plotting something is going to accomplish anything more than walking right into their trap. I'm going back into my room. Follow me under penalty of unpleasant things being done to you in very uncomfortable ways."
"But, but..."
"Starfire..." Raven all but growled her teammate's name, then disappeared into the floor. It was apparent to Starfire that if anyone were to assist her in eluding the deeds of the Brothers Mischief, she would need someone more devious than they.
*--*
Now, of all the people in the world that the phrase devious could be applied to, one would certainly take pause before mixing it, and any other assortment of words, in any sentence that also contained the words 'Beast Boy', without the words 'is not' between them. However, he had made it his personal goal to claim and keep the title "King of Practical Jokes", and to Starfire, he was a natural choice to consult on the working of a mischievous mind.
"Star, you've come to the right place," Beast Boy greeted her, upon hearing her dilemma. He had been found in his usual spot, losing horribly to Cyborg in yet another video game. (For those of you who wonder why these two would spend so much time in front of a television, or why this scenario is used with such frequency, the next time you meet someone who calls themselves a gamer, or find yourself in a social situation with a 'video game enthusiast', ask them how much time they spend in front of the screen. Then get back to me.) "Step into my office, will you?" he asked, imitating the air of a businessman. Starfire looked puzzled for a moment before Cyborg added, "Just sit down, Star."
Beast Boy stood up, and pulled out his favorite white board of conspiracies, clearing away some scribblings connecting a reported teleporter from the Midwest to a cult of chocolate cracker-worshiping clone people, to make room for notes. "Ok, what do we know? They usually pace themselves with the jokes, taking turns on who's in charge of their latest project. They almost never target anyone constantly, changing their focus after almost every move. SO, let's narrow down the list of teammates they've hit recently..." Beast Boy trailed off on his theories and reasoning, as Starfire payed rapt attention, and Cyborg chipped in to make corrections, suggestions, and random jokes.
*--*
It had been hours. Nothing had happened, not even a twitch, after awhile. Every now and then, Mimic would jump, thinking he'd seen something, then sigh as he realized it was just a shadow or something insignificant. No one had been down this hallway save them since morning.
And Stray was bored. He'd learned more about lighthouses than he knew he could in a day, had rearranged furniture, fallen asleep twice, and even taken watch for an hour. There was nothing to do, but Mimic wouldn't let him leave "in case someone walks down the hallway when you do, and starts bugging you."
He had taken to listening to the radio with headphones on, watching his older brother with offhand curiosity. He thought about making some suggestions to the copycat's wardrobe, Mimic's standard blue long coat and jumpsuit being much to drab for the occasionally flamboyant feline, who had shed his coat, hat and bandana to cool off in the stuffy room. He couldn't turn the heat on, because Mimic didn't want any sound coming from the room. A concept that also led to Stray not being able to talk, move around much at all (the furniture thing had not gone over well), or tun the radio up to comfortably deafening volumes.
This did not sit well with him. "Mimic, I'm leaving. No one is coming down this hallway tonight. Not until everyone goes to bed. Robin's probably studying in his Slade room again. And I'm hungry." He took a few steps towards the door, and Mimic motioned for him to sit back down.
"Just wait a little more. I'm sure he's coming," he whispered, not moving from his post on the wall.
"That's what you've said every hour we've been in here. He's not coming. And I'm going."
"Just sit down. We've had this argument, like you said, every hour since we've been in here. And it always leads to you sitting down and finding something else to do. Now go do that."
"Screw this," Stray snapped, and moved to open the door.
Mimic whipped his head around, and opened his mouth to back at his younger brother, when they heard a crash from the hallway, followed by a yell, then another crash, then, a very familiar voice screaming, "MIMIC! STRAY!"
Stray paused. Then turned to look at Mimic, who, having turned his head to glare at his younger brother, had not been able to see his awesome plan in action. He did not look happy. "Well? You wanted to leave. It's all clear now," he motioned for Stray to open the door, his voice thick with sarcasm. Stray's tail flicked back and forth in aggravation, his ears twitching aggressively. "You're a douchebag," he growled at his sibling. He pressed the panel on the wall to open the door, and stared down at a very angry, very greasy, Robin.
"You know, Robin, there is such a thing as too muchhair product. Although, if you're going for the body oil thing, I don't think Starfire would mind."
Robin made to stand up and take a swing at the offending feline, but slipped once again in the grease that moments before had occupied the bucket that once stood upon the hinged half-shelf above his door, which had made it's way onto Robin's head, soaking him thoroughly, and slicking the floor beneath him. He landed face-first, as Stray elegantly leapt across the affected floor, his supernatural advantages allowing for some quite acrobatic maneuvers, allowing him to bypass the grease entirely. He then proceeded to waltz his way to the common room, for some well-earned (at least he thought so) dinner. "Mimic's still in the sitting room, you can yell at him if you want," Stray shouted over his shoulder as he turned a corner.
Robin was much less than amused.
*--*
Mimic had made his way to the common room nearly an hour later, having received a lengthy lecture on the unsafe practices of practical jokes from their fearless leader, while he made a running commentary on how his jokes were meant for people to lighten up, which was obviously what Robin was NOT doing. He also took the time to point out that his jokes could be greatly useful in training the other team members, and Robin himself, in the arts of disabling traps, reflex and endurance training, and environmental threats. It did not go over well.
Starfire had long abandoned the idea of avoiding any traps, and had set about caring for Silkie, tending to her in that more than creep motherly tone that most teenage girls get when they are given something to care for; Raven and Stray holding light conversation about some band or another, the feline obviously taking more interest than the young cambion.
Beast Boy and Cyborg argued over dinner, while Robin had taken to his room to clean up the mess that, according to Mimic, he had created, because he was the one that caused the bucket of grease to spill. The Boy wonder had simply had no desire to argue With everyone doing there own thing, there wasn't much left for Mimic to do.
Until the alarm sounded. "Yay! Beatsticks!" Mimic yelled to no one in particular, pumping his arms into the air in victory. He received a variety of looks for his efforts, as Robin burst into the room, yelling, "Titans, go!"
As if they didn't already know that.
*--*
Most of the time, when the Titans were called out to fight an enemy, they expected to be received by some grandiose villain who would present himself or herself with great flair, presenting some sort of specially designed challenge, or a clever trap tailored to their theme, or just outright attacking. Very few times were they approached with an enemy or challenger that operated with any level of military proficiency, and those occasions were usually the Hive, or Slade's army of robots.
In very few cases was it ever an actual military force, let alone one that acted with such precision. The Titans were having a hard time with it.
Raven's telekinetic field was being pushed to it's limits, as short, controlled bursts of assault round pummeled against her mental energies. Beast Boy had taken point as a Galapagos turtle, his massive, armored frame providing shielding as they stood him upright as a makeshift bulwark. Starfire and Cyborg took turns providing covering fire for Stray and Robin, who were taking out single men at a time with guerrilla tactics, dodging from point to point with much effort. Mimic had taken to copying Raven's abilities, and providing shielding support for the team, pouring what little emotional energy he could control into hers, allowing her more energy to work with.
Even with this seemingly efficient tactic, they were having great issues against the group of masked soldiers that occupied the medical supply company the teens had been called to. They had shown up expecting a run of the mill villain robbing the facility, and had taken a look around when they were not immediately met with an obvious threat. They had made it through a few floors of empty building, when Stray's heightened senses had detected someone else on their floor. They had made the mistake of not trying to hide their presence, instead attempting to intimidate any potential intruders by bursting into the room, demanding that whatever evil that lay wait make itself known.
It had. With gunfire.
"Who the HELL uses guns on teenagers?!" Cyborg yelled, punctuating his statement with a few sonic cannon blasts over the top of the counter.
"The same people that use combat shotguns and assault rifles to rob a medical supply office," said a voice thick with disgust from over his shoulder. He turned around to discover that Stray had fallen back to their makeshift barricade. "I couldn't press on any further with such heavy fire. When they realized we were taking one or two guys at a time, they consolidated to a circle of fire. They're so well trained it's ridiculous. Robin said he had a strategy though. I don't know what, it's kind of hard to hear him over gunfire. And he mumbles."
Mimic and Raven flinched with the strain of supporting their shield, Raven adding some extra chants to stabilize her concentration. "I can't believe my day. First, I miss my trap, then I get ranted at by the stoplight ninja, then I'm blocking suppression fire with my mind. Glorious day for me!"
"Actually, I"M blocking suppression fire with my mind, YOU'RE breaking my concentration, so shut up, or we die!" Raven yelled at him under her breath between bursts of bullets.
"Point." He returned his concentration to feeding her energy, recoiling occasionally from the attacks. He glanced over at Beast Boy, who had taken behind an overturned metal desk, using it as cover while speaking into his communicator. He glanced over at Starfire and Cyborg, who were trading turns firing shots at the main group in the center of the room, and occasionally taking shots at the soldiers trying to creep around the side.
All of a sudden, Beast Boy shouted out, "Titans, duck!"
Nobody questioned him, as all of the teens forewent their previous tactics, and hit the ground. Mimic had just enough time to register a large burst of light and sound across the room, and a few cries of anguish, as what he could only assume was a flash-bang went off in the middle of the room. He counted off a few seconds, remembering Robin's warnings on his weapons, then took a glance over the desk to see if any of the soldiers were coming their way. Most of the men he could see were disoriented, or readjusting to the new turn of events. A couple of men stood themselves up, retraining their weapons, but appeared so simply fall down again. This went on for a few moments, a soldier or two would stand in one location, only to fall again, than another, in a different part of the room. When all was said and done, a large group of well-restrained and disarmed men had made a neat little circle in an otherwise thoroughly trashed room.
Robin took no time in interrogating his captives.
*--*
Stray, however, had no interest in standing around while Robin yelled at the group of hogtied soldiers, and took Mimic, now copying Starfire's abilities, and Beast Boy, on a search party, to try and scout out any other splinter cells or lone soldiers. After about a half hour of scouting, and covering every room, they returned to their search with Cyborg in their group, who began setting warning devices and traps on all the entrances to their current floor, under Robin's suggestion.
Stray had lost interest in the seriousness of their situation, and with this floor "secure", he felt no need to sit mindlessly back while more experienced interrogators processed their new found prisoners. Besides, fast-paced events had never sat well with him, and he decided to take a moment to relax, and ponder a few thoughts. Why would they be called in to suppress a trained military force? Wouldn't the actual military be better off handling the guys with guns? And what would call these guys to raid some medical technology company in the middle of the city with a small man cell with assault rifles and shotguns? What were they expecting to fight? Obviously not the Titans, Stray pondered. Men like that, they would have brought some specialized equipment or weapons to deal with them. And such heavy arms seemed a little too extreme for a bunch of Teens, anyway. He slowly came to the realization in his musings that they were expecting some great threat or security measure at this facility that they might not have come across, yet.
He decided to return to the group to inform them of this fact, and to prevent a search party from coming along and dragging him back on their leader's orders. Taking a less scenic route, he strolled through the now-abandoned hallways of the evacuated building, weaving in and out of the strewn equipment that lay about from a combination of fighting, fleeing, and general carelessness as people moved about amongst the recent happenings. A lack of lighting led him to believe than some of the circuitry in the building may have been damaged by combat on this floor or another, although the bestial DNA within him allowed him to see much better in the dark than normal.
It still didn't prepare him for what he found on his way back.
*--*
Mimic's attention span, as much longer than Stray's as it was, was starting to reach it's end. Robin had had no progress with his interrogation, as none of the soldiers were talking, some of them had passed out from the force of the blast, or were still unconscious from his hit-and-run tactics, and one had even gone so far as to swallow a suicide pill before Robin had even begun questioning. None of the other Titans had made any progress in their mission, except for sealing off this floor the best they could, relieving the soldiers of their arms and some of their armor, and redistributing the equipment amongst the team.
"So, anyone want to explain what the hell is going on here?" Cyborg asked no one in general. There seemed to be a great deal of that going around. "First, it's just a normal day, we're messing around, Titan Alarm goes off like usual, and we run off to save the day. The next minute, we're taking heavy fire from some special ops team, and barely hold our own for like, half an hour. Then, all of a sudden, Robin breaks out this uber flash bang that makes these guys sitting ducks. What's going on, Robin?"
The team leader sighed heavily, then turned to his teammates. "I really don't think now's the time to tell you, but I know you guys won't follow me further into this unless I do-"
Starfire cut him off, holding up a hand. "It is not necessary Robin. We are undamaged, and victorious. If there is more of this battle to be fought, then let us fight it. We will follow you as we always have." She took his hand in hers, smiling at him, practically radiating loyalty. They both felt a sudden weight atop their hands, and noticed Cyborg had added his to the mix.
"Definitely, man. You know we got your back. If there's something deep and mysterious here, well, that's what we do. Now let's do that."
"Yeah, dude," Beast Boy rang his approval, placing his hand on the pile. "We just took out a special ops cell. These guys are so done!"
"Um, Beast Boy-" Robin started, but was interrupted by Mimic throwing his hand on the stack.
"Yeah, yeah. Motivational teamwork kind of thing. I'm no good at speeches, but I didn't sign on to this group to sit back and watch. Just promise you'll tell us what this is about when it's over."
"You guys-" Robin continued, but his teammates continued on, providing what they thought were much needed words of encouragement. It wasn't until Raven coughed behind Beast Boy's back did they notice it was time to stop talking.
"You might want to listen to what he has to say," Raven added not-so-subtly.
"Yeah, about that," Robin started, extricating his hand, and shaking it off. A solemn expression crossed his features, his eyes dimming and his lip forming a thin line. "You need to know what we're getting into before hand, not because I think it's the right thing to do, but because you guys might, well... there's a good chance you might die here tonight."
*--*
Stray had figured that some fighting had taken place elsewhere on this floor before he had come here, but he had no idea the extent of the battle.
The room he stared into was filled with blood. The walls, floors, and ceiling painted in deep crimson like a macabre canvas, a piece of art only the dead or unliving would find anything less than repulsive. Chunks of meat and bone lay strewn across the tables and chars, carelessly laid about as if someone had simply knocked a stack of papers over. The strong smell of copper and flesh seared his sensitive nose, even as it stirred something carnal in him; he had never been good with blood, not since his genetic manipulations, but he had never encountered more than small amounts, and rarely were they not his own. This much blood, that belonged to someone else, it was... conflicting, at least to him.
Stray's genetics could be said to be a great deal more stable than Beast Boy's. He could not change his form, but he had pieces of many animals inside him. The cat gave him heightened reflexes, heightened awareness, sensitivity to sound and vibrations in the air. The wolf gave him a keen sense of smell, also aided his hearing, and gave him more predatory instincts than most humans have. And we hunt each other for sport. The addition of rhinoceros genes had toughened his skin, hardened his bones, reinforced his muscles. And the crow, well. He had not gained flight, nor wings. He had no feathers to adorn his body. But he had learned to scavenge, to survive off of anything. And everything.
His ability to control every muscle in his body as if they were his thoughts had been granted to him from birth; he had been born a metahuman. And his scientifically minded parents had taken it as an excuse to perform experimentation on him. His self-control would make gene therapy easier. A muscle here atrophies, or seizes just work it till it's fine again. His heart stops, make it work. But for all the control he had been granted over his body, thanks to his "additions", as he called them, he had lost control of parts of his mind.
And right now, it wanted food.
*--*
"Um, die?" Beast Boy asked quietly, in a high pitched voice reserved for small dogs and men who've been kicked in the Kentuckys.
Cyborg gave him a look. "Dude, we go into battle every day knowing that death is a possibility. What makes this any different?" He shook his head, then took a seat, motioning for Robin to continue.
The Boy Wonder coughed into his hand, taking a look at his group. Cyborg, he could tell, was putting on a good front. That would help, his friends would need all the moral support they could get, if it meant keeping them alive for a moment longer. Raven and Starfire, however, looked ready to freak out and cry, respectively. It should speak volumes for Raven's level of self control, that she had just seen a man kill himself (she was the one interrogating the soldier who downed the suicide pill), been shot at, ambushed, and nearly passed out from strain, and had been told that would only get worse from here, that she still had some semblance of control.
Nearby, a desk drawer shot it's way across the room. Raven jumped, and whipped around at the noise, her anxiety breaking the glass on the door nearby.
"Raven," Robin said soothingly, taking a step towards her, "It's important that you calm down. You need to stay as stable as possible in this environment. I haven't even told you what our enemy is, and you're jumping at your shadows. Literally. Start chanting. That's an order." He firmed his tone with his words, grabbing Raven's shoulders and bringing her around to focus on him.
Raven's wild eyes locked on to Robin's, and she began mumbling her mantra, slowly at first, unsure, then louder, faster, until she had steadied her voice. She closed her eyes, and forced herself into a sitting position, while Robin turned to the rest of the team. Starfire had calmed down a bit, taking Robin's advice to Raven upon herself, and putting to practice some meditation styles Raven herself had taught her. While the two girls chanted together, timing each others words in sync, which had the noticeable effect of relaxing them both, Robin focused on the guys. "Yes, Beast Boy. There's always a chance that we could fall in battle. Unfortunately, today, or tonight, the odds are vastly out of our favor. It started with a phone call I got from Batman last night.
"He had said that he wanted me to review a case file for him, because there was a great deal of information on it, and he had been asked by an undisclosed branch of the military to review the information himself and provide a field summary, maybe look into the incidents himself. One involved an almost nuclear explosion at a military facility. Which one, they wouldn't tell us. Another involved the disappearance of a great deal of soldiers sent to that area to neutralize the fallout. Apparently both these events were tied in very interesting ways to a sort of psychic soldier program that this particular government branch was working on, although that's as much information on the projects as we've been able to receive.
"We were informed of two individuals who had undergone testing in this project, a young girl named Alma, and a man named Paxton Feddel. Again, details are scarce. What Batman discovered, however, was that they were doing experimentation in more than a few cities, including some research here at Jump. When he dug deeper, he accidentally intercepted a transmission indicating a planned attack on this facility, where they had been developing some of the drugs used in the program. Batman had asked me to get the team to stop him. I knew you wouldn't go if you thought we were being choirboys for the military, so I hit the alarm myself, and dragged you down here to prevent the assault. I assure you, I had no idea they were carrying such heave arms."
Mimic's head had started to swim, Beast Boy has lost himself somewhere in the middle, and Cyborg merely looked grim. "You said they were doing experiments here in Jump, right? What kind?"
"The only thing I found out was the name of another patient in the psychic soldier program. Apparently the concept was to create generals who could direct their soldiers with mere thoughts, allowing them to act as a hive mind without the general even setting foot on the field. It's said that Alma and Paxton were 'successful' in the experiment, but had gone out of control. Alma more so. A lot of people died. This new girl's name is Caroline. I guess they thought little girls made good mind toys. I don't know if the same thing is happening here, but from what I've read on the F.E.A.R. Team reports from both incidents, First Encounter Assault Recon, by the way, is that the attacks usually come in waves. They get bigger, more intense, and much more bizarre. I get the feeling we've just climbed into the barrel, and they have yet to drop us into the river."
"Let's just hope that we don't go over the waterfall," Beast Boy added grimly.
"What was that super-sized flash-bang you used earlier? Why'd it turn those guys into rag dolls, even for a few seconds?" Mimic asked.
"That was a psycho-inhibition concussive neural-isolation canister. P.I.C.N.I.C.s for short. I have quite a few, but it still may not be enough. They're designed to sever any psychic connections between any two sources. It cuts the soldiers off from their commander, along with providing a form of concussion on a psychic level, add in some loud noises and bright lights, hello, meat dolls. It's why Raven's so much closer to freaking out than she should be. Fortunately, not all of her powers are psychically based. But it's enough to send her for a loop for awhile," Robin slumped his shoulders, and glanced over at Raven and Starfire- in time to notice them walking back to the group.
"Not long enough, it seems," Raven added dryly. Her specialty. "Next time you use one of those, signal me. I might be able to stop myself from going looney-tunes and killing you all out of fear."
Beast Boy gulped. "That would be nice."
Starfire looked around at the boys, and sat down in the circle. "I heard much of what was said, Robin. It sounds like you had little choice bringing us here. I... do not approve of your tactics, but little can be done about it now. So let us press on. Hopefully, this new subject will not be so problematic."
Mimic then took a look around. "Speaking of problems, where's Stray?"
*--*
Stray had been eating. Had been, until two things happened: first, he became full. There was quite a lot of meat left in the room, and he had taken his time consuming the lot. So he had continued his trek back to the office they had originally been assaulted in, and passed by another bloody room on the way back. He had considered taking a chunk with him as rations, in case he became hungry again. Then he noticed a big difference in the rooms.
This room still had the blood and bones of the last place, and had even more flesh in it. But is also had something else. Heads. With faces.
The last room hadn't had faces. He hadn't seen humans, just food.
And the realization that he had cannibalized human corpses on instinct came rushing through him in a wave of bile that expelled itself violently from his stomach into a nearby sanitation bucket. He took a little side trip to track down an un-bloodied bathroom, and washed himself clean of the blood (blood so much blood he had eaten HUMAN), and made a beeline straight for his goal.
He walked in just in time to hear the sentence "I have no idea where that stupid cat is, but I know we have to look for him," in what was no doubt Raven's voice.
"It's good to know that I'm so well appreciated," he drawled sarcastically, attempting to a ct as if nothing had happened.
"And where the hell have you be-" Mimic's voice cut out as soon as he looked at Stray, his eyes widening. The rest of the team was soon giving him similar looks, and he quickly became uncomfortable. He spun around to make sure nothing had followed him into the room, then turned back around to face his now-captive audience (what's wrong with them did something happen while I was-) and saw his reflection on the way back.
He had washed the blood off of his face, and out of his mouth and hair.
But from the neck down, he was crimson. Covered shoulder-to-toe in human blood.
He expelled his lunch for the second time in twenty minutes.
It took awhile for anyone to say anything, after they had cleaned up the sickened feline, and gotten him into some of the basic clothes one of the now-unconscious soldiers were wearing, a black t-shirt and cargo pants, which he loaded with small arms that the soldiers hadn't pulled out. A pair of handguns, and a generous supply of spare rounds. Doing a floor-by-floor sweep on the way down, and keeping them restrained in a multitude of ways, they left the group of soldiers at the front door, with Robin placing a call to Batman to come "pick up the package".
It wasn't until they had made camp in the lobby did Cyborg finally speak for the whole group. "This may be the longest night of our lives."
A/N: Yay! First chapter of my new story done! It felt a bit rushed, but I really wanted to dive into this one, just like the games. They don't give you a moment to think, unless you go backwards, and I'm trying to keep in the spirit of the game as much as I can without making the Titans soldiers themselves. I hope you look forward to the next chapter! Also, for those of you new to my work, I'm a review monkey.
Ooh, ooh!