Disclaimer: We do not own Teen Titans. This is going to be the only time any of us writes this, as it is a pain in neck.
(A/N) Alright people, this is Mork, bringing you the first chapter of this colab fic. This idea was spawned from my frustration at most OC stories and many other fanfics in general. We're trying to break the mold here. Those conventions that you see in other OC stories aren't going to be in this.
Also, I have to give thanks to the guys Lord Belgarion and Post for the idea for the format of this story. If either of you are reading this, than don't worry. We aren't going to rip your plot, just your alternating chapters idea.
Not Your Average Joes
Chapter One:
Downtown
Cops, Criminals, and Crazies
The Odd Couple
Commissioner Darwin wasn't normally an angry man. While his name gave the impression that he was a rough-and-tumble, survival-of-the-fittest kind of guy, that couldn't be farther from the truth.
There was one word that could describe him quite well. Round. Not in the sense that he was fat, but in the sense that he didn't have an angular facet on his figure. From his bald head, to his boyish features, to his slowly expanding gut, the general consensus was that he looked like he was designed by the folks who baby-proof houses.
Normally, problems just seemed to bounce off of him. On a regular day, Darwin could walk through a burning warehouse, be ambushed by a nuclear-powered monster, kidnapped by a costumed super villain, escape, and then face down a legion of obnoxious reporters, dead-set on pinning any collateral damage on him, without breaking a sweat. He could even say the previous sentence without taking a second breath.
But right now, he was smack-dab in the middle of gang-war, with bullets whizzing over his head, and he was pissed.
And not just because the 53rd Street Bloody Knuckles, and Pine Grove Ax Heads decided that life just wasn't worth living if, heaven forbid, they had to interact with each other like decent human beings.
No. This was because there were a couple vigilantes, one of which was super-powered and the other wasn't, but was kicking ass all the same, decided that they would take care of things.
"I need backup! Send in the Special Forces units. This is turning into a fiasco down here!" the Commissioner yelled into his squad car radio, while using that very same squad car to block the hot lead that was flying in his direction.
"Yes, I did say the Special Forces units, you prick! You know, those guys with the fancy laser guns that the city blew nearly its entire budget on? The ones that I have full authority to call in whenever I goddamn think its necessary? Those guys!"
With that, he angrily chucked the receiver back into the vehicle and took a few potshots at 7ft tall brute with a face full of tattoos and an Uzi. After his third shot clipped the ganger's knee (the previous two took him square in the chest, but he didn't plan on mentioning that in the paperwork) he realized he had one last thing he wanted to say.
He fished the receiver back out of the car and added, "Oh yeah, and make sure the Titans get down here. I'm sure they'll love to get a piece of this."
Meanwhile, in Titan's Tower, things were normal enough. The past two years since the incident in Tokyo had gone by pretty routinely.
Cyborg and Beast Boy still fought over video games and breakfast foods, yet still remained best buds. Raven was as addicted to tea and as moody as she ever has been. There was still plenty of that good, old-fashioned teenaged trouble, room mate annoyance, and the ever-present threat of an apocalyptic cataclysm that could happen any second but probably wouldn't.
Probably.
The only thing that was slightly new around the Tower, was that Robin was turning 18 soon and he and Starfire had decided they would take there relationship to the next level. Which the rest of the team assumed would basically consist of them going at it with marginally more restraint than the last man and woman on Earth tasked with the job of repopulation. A job of little usefulness, but was damn-sure enjoyable.
You're probably thinking right now, "What? Repopulating the planets seems to be a very important job to me!" You would be wrong. Just wonder, what would the kids than do? All of the people around them are one of their siblings, so there is no chance of further generations cropping up. Unless you want to go into the realm of the creepy. And you really, really don't.
Anyways, back to Titan's Tower.
"Booyah! Take that, you little grass stain!"
"No fair, dude! You stole that rocket boost from right under my nose!"
"Well I didn't see your name one it!"
"That doesn't matter, dude. You have clearly breached the gentleman's code of video gaming. I demand a rematch!"
"Pssshh. You know you're just going to lose again."
"Yeah, that's what I said to your mom last night."
"Meat!"
"Tofu!"
It was right then that Beast Boy and Cyborg collapsed on the couch laughing, and when Raven stopped reading long enough to roll her eyes at the blissful stupidity of her opposite gender.
Just another average day amongst a group of super-powered teens. Than the Tower's crime alarm sounded, and it was still an average day, for they were super-powered teens.
The gamers fell silent immediately, and Robin and Starfire ran in from one of their alleged "training" sessions.
"I've picked up a radio signal that says that the Jump City PD have mobilized their Special Forces Unit," Cyborg said while reading his arm-screen.
"And I've just received a request from Commissioner Darwin. He wants us to come down to 53rd Street. Local gangs have apparently started up quite the brawl. Plus there is alleged super power activity," Robin reported with his fingers blurring across the keyboard. "Titans, Go!"
And so, the Titans did. But not before Starfire made an observation.
"I believe that the Commissioner like to 'take care of the business' on his own. It would take something of magnitude for him to ask for our help.
You gits must be daft to have gone an' mucked up MY SHOP!" shouted a leather-clad teen with a heavy Irish accent as he pounded the face of Ax Head ganger with a lead pipe.
He looked every bit the stereotypical Irish-American. Red hair, unkempt clothes, and looking like he hadn't shaved in a week. Unfortunately for him, that made him an easy target to pick out of a crowd. The fact that he was screaming at the top of his lungs didn't help his case much either.
His screaming stopped when he noticed three different goons all pointing Glocks in his direction. It was replaced with a resigned, "Oh, bollocks."
Luckily, the other half of this vigilante duo found the time to help out his buddy. Unfortunately, this "help" consisted mostly of unceremoniously pushing the Irishman behind the run-down chassis of an old Honda. And that Honda happened to be on fire.
The second vigilante looked like someone had crafted a life-size replica of the human body from putty, but than couldn't be bothered to add any details. He had no facial features, no muscle definition, nor even any bone structure. This was all accentuated by the fact he didn't wear any clothes. And before you ask, no, he didn't have anything "down there", if you know what I mean.
Why is person referred to as a he, when he had none of the distinguishing features of the masculine gender? Because, as he will eventually note, being called a he is better than being called an it.
This amorphous figure demonstrated his superpower and swung his arm in a wide arc. It stretched out and lashed all three thugs to the ground. Super-stretching doesn't normally look like an appealing power, but when one knows how to use it, it can pack a punch.
When that was done with, the featureless being walked up to his friend, who was thankfully not on fire. Walked perhaps isn't the best term to use. Without actual muscles or bones to walk with, he seemed to warp and slither his body forward.
"Are you dead yet, Murphy?" he asked the prone figure.
"You're a bloody wanker, Grey. You just nearly pushed me into a bloomin' inferno." He grunted in response.
"It was either fire or bullets. I figured you were tough enough manage a bit of fire. If you faced the bullets, I wouldn't have asked you if you were dead, because I would have noticed the blood spray and figured it out myself."
"Just shut your face and help me up."
As Grey reached down to give Murphy a hand, only with the intention to snatch it away again because he's a jerk, the Special Forces arrived.
Great, black hovercrafts loomed overhead, and faceless soldiers wearing full-body armor rappelled down from them. The noise coming from the whirring fans of the vehicles was only matched by their speaker systems, which projected voices ordering criminals to put down their weapons and surrender themselves.
The gangers, however, weren't very motivated to comply. It's easy to get stubborn when you have an arsenal on your side, and between the two gangs, there was an arsenal and a half. Guns ranging from pistols to assault rifles aimed up and fired, but this wasn't your everyday police that they were firing at. This was the Special Forces.
Jump City had personally petitioned the division of WayneCorp they were host to for a loan. WayneCorp did one better. With authorization from Bruce Wayne himself, the Technology Department made Jump City the test subject for an advanced peace keeping force. If successful, these units would be deployed to all cities with documented cases of super powered beings.
Bullets rang off the hulls of the hovercraft and the body armor of the soldiers alike. Between the two gangs, they had been able to inflict a grand total of zero casualties amongst the Special Forces. Sure these criminals weren't the best trained, and thus had lousy aim, but even still. Zero casualties is quite something. Whether that something was good or bad depends on if you're on the shooting or receiving end.
And then they fired back. It was a one-sided fight. High-power, rapid-fire laser weaponry rained down on the gangers' heads, supported by the standard armaments of the remaining police officers. If it was their goal, they could have killed everyone on that street in seconds flat. Instead, they relied on the fear effect the lasers had, and sent the gangers running home to safety.
Once it was all said and done, no one would escape. The hovercrafts were equipped with sophisticated face-recognition technology. Soon enough, every marked criminal would have a comprehensive search done on them. They would be caught. It was only a matter of time.
"Well look at that." Murphy remarked as he watched the spectacle.
"No eyes, remember?" Grey remarked while pointing to his face where his eyes should be.
"Don't try and guilt me boy. I know you can feel vibrations through the air and ground or something. I don't quite understand the mechanics to it, but you know what I'm talking bout."
"Well that wouldn't be seeing than, would it?"
Murphy wound himself up to continue this pointless little argument, as they always did when this particular subject came up, but several Special Units agents rappelled down around them.
"Put your hands on your head and get down on the ground!" one of the agents ordered as the squad aimed their weapons.
"Whoa there, fellas," Murphy said to them, "We're on your side. I'm sure those officers over their will vouch for the half a dozen guys I put down myself."
"Are these guys doing what I think they're doing?" asked Grey to no one in particular.
"Oh no. Don't you start that. I know you got a thing with authority figures, but God Almighty. These guys are armed with LASER GUNS! Maybe you could pull off what you're thinking of pulling off if these guys had your run-of-the-mill guns, but they don't. So don't do it."
"Are you going to come along quietly or not?" questioned one of the troopers.
"Just never mind about it now, Pete. Look who's arrived," another pointed out to the rest.
Over in the distance, close to where to cordon of squad cars were parked, there was the screech of rubber and the whoosh of super-powered flight.
The Titans were here.