A/N;Hey this is my first ever teen titans fic (which is not to say I haven't read a whole heap) none the less I have been writing Harry Potter fics for a long time and as such am far more used to those characters. I have done a lot of personality research in the series before beginning it none the less because of my unusual style of writing and large deviations from cannon there is no doubt going to be large OOCness and for this I apologise and hope you won't flame me too much. I do promise that everything I write is for a reason in the plot so don't point out inconsistencies to much. (of course most of you have skipped this part completely lol, and are already reading, or if you have read this you are no doubt about to click out and read something by another author with more experience. Can I perhaps ask you to try the first chapter first?
Frankie.
Some notes before we begin.
ParingsRavenRobin and poss StarBB, it will not bear much relevance to the plot but will take a vote to see whether I should perhaps pair Cyborg
CyBumblebee / CyNo-one
Set: After the betrayal and death of Terra but before the beginning of the Raven/Trigon saga. Might make possible references to Haunted and Spellbound, so possible around episode 33? Not really important as I haven't seen them all. I guess what's important to note is that Jinx knows about Raven, possible from Slade but not really important either. She doesn't feature in the actual plot, she's more of a catalyst.
Warnings: Violence and sexual situations (oocness? I already warned you about that)
On with the story.
Prologue- Closer
Picture a city at night. Tall black pillars studded with fireflies of night so that they almost seem to burn….
Closer.
Closer, past the trawling cars and the lit up houses in the peaceful suburbs. Closer, past the apartment blocks down at the pear, all steel and glass. Closer to the very heart, the hub of the night city.
Closer.
Here the city really is burning. Not dangerously, the flames have long since been tamed and now the last of the flammable items are dissolving into the warn out flame. The fire will be out soon. Very soon.
Visible, just visible in the glow of smoke and ash, there are the outlines the presence of people.
They can easily be defined into two recognisable groups. They are well known here. Ask anyone on the street and they would be able to tell you exactly who they are. But the people have long since fled this battlefield and in the dark they appear very similar, all wearing the same sort of expressions, their bodies tensed into the same, tight, taught coils.
All of them are young, a scattering between thirteen and sixteen. All of them are powerful, passionate, exceptional even. But they hold the same perception that all creatures their age do; that they are immortal, invincible as gods. they are perhaps closer to this than others could possible claim, but they are not gods, not even close.
The are mortal, so very mortal and in a few years they will realise that.
But at the same time as they are naïve, they are wise too and weary with it. They have the knowledge, that devastating crushing knowledge of what people really are. The primitive, volatile horrendous acts they can commit. Some them have commit such acts themselves.
At the centre of the street there is a church, a simple, small, unadorned thing, it is not nearly so grand as the cathedral on the main street. It lies on one side of the road, whole directly between the two facing groups but they do not even seem to be aware of it's presents. None the less it is there, a symbol even to the naked eye, of who and what they are. There are no such thing as coincidences.
To the right is the large group. A boy, a boy, a girl, another boy…. a cloaked figure, barely an outline and who does not intend to become more.
To the right of the chapel. God's right hand. They blaze in an array of colours; Harsh red, burning orange, glowing green, fierce electric blue.
And soft, purple- mysterious, distant purple. Purple the lightest shade of darkness….
The leader of the left group giggles suddenly and one gets the impression that she is prone to the habit. Left. The God's left hand. The dammed. The leader is a girl, lithe and small, she is pink , bubblegum pink and she giggles madly. It's a cliché and she might just be one, but none the less she is a dangerous one.
Closer.
She makes a scoff, high and brittle in the silent air. A challenge "Really Titans. Is that all you have?"
The boy in red growls, low and menacing. A yell "Titan's Go!"
The energy, the tension releases like a spring and they fly forward a whirlwind of movement- brittle sharp, angular.
Closer.
Focus on the cloaked figure and they pink girl- they wage a war independently of the others and the blows are familiar- they've always been each other's favourite opponents, they challenge one another in a way the others can't. the blows aren't physical in any real sense- their war is almost independent of their bodies. In this world words rather than fists hold the power to knock one off your feet. And it is control- control of the words that fly in arches of glittering colour- that it is important. But it does not really matter how the battle is fought because it is always the identical- Black words against Pink words, Purple against Pink. Always.
Closer.
Because the closer you get the more the world simplifies, because it's not a war of blows and magic and words, but one of emotion and strength of will, strength of mind. Discipline. It becomes more obvious with every expression that they allow to escape them and flicker briefly over their faces.
The girl in Pink smirks. She's got all new ammunition and this will spark a reaction. It must. When they draw near she lets it drip like poison from her lips.
"You know, I always assumed you picked your name for the way it sounded- I mean what kind of Hero is 'the Herald of Death.' But then I found out- it's your real title- I guess you never really know with some people huh?"
The cloaked figure falters. It barely registers, a slight stumble of the muscles, nothing less. But it's enough for a hit, she gasps and the pink girl smirks in triumph to know she's delivered more than just a physical blow.
"Oh sorry, was I not meant to know about that? Don't you like the truth about yourself Raven? You know that fact that everything you've ever wanted, needed, cared about…Loved, is going to end, going to die, because of you." Her eyes narrow "everyone says villains are evil but most of us aren't a patch in what you are dear Raven."
Closer.
Because it's not even about their expressions, they know each other too well to wait for something to show there and you can see it in the eyes.
Amethyst eyes. Purple eyes, purple the lightest shade of darkness. Like the girl, the purest form of evil.
There. A barest glance. A glance to the right ( Always to the right, he's always on the right of her) to the red boy, to the harsh passion and furry of the red, the of the boy.
It's only a glance. But it's enough. To much.
"Yeah Raven, Him too."
Even as close as we are, it's not close enough to see her change, to she her shift and now she's something else entirely, something that nightmares are made of. The world blurs, trails out of focus, the radio hits static and whirls away.
The purest form perhaps, but in the end evil just the same.
Closer.
When it ends, shifts back, the first thing noticeable is the church. It's gone, mere rubble and wreckage in the street. The pink haired girl and her companions lie somewhere beneath it, lost.
The cloaked figure, Raven or so she has been called, now stands to the left of it- left the side of the dammed. Her friends, or once friends as they now seem to be, are still to the right. Their eyes full of horror and fear and disgust.
Disgust. She's an empathy so as much as it's in their eyes it's in her bones. She can feel it all in her bones.
And closer. Can you see it? We must find the exact moment.
She falters, a small step back, a small cry.
And a murmur, from the boy in the red, the boy the boy the boy. "Raven what have you done!"
They hold the briefest of gazes.
Closer. Can you see it now? Can you see when it all breaks? Can you see when it ends?
The one called Raven turns and runs.
Runs and runs and runs and doesn't know how to stop. Doesn't know where she's going and doesn't care. Just wanting escape. Escape like she never has before- escape the way he looked at her and escape the truth that has always lurked in her shadow.
She runs and out behind her, the purple clack trails like a lick of Amethyst flame. Purple the lightest shade of darkness, like the girl, the purest form of evil.
But no matter how far or fast she runs, the truth always remains the same. Lightest, purest-still darkness. Still evil.
-fin-
Well tell me what you think and whether I should continue, if I do, the way it's written while be slightly more understandable. u . PLEASE REVIEW!
two things I should probable say. One –regarding the church thing- I am not religious and this fic dose not and is not meant to have religious messages. It was only a useful metaphor. And for those who don't know, the angel Gabriel is the supposed right hand of god, ad the Angel Lucifer used to be the left hand until he betrayed him and became satin and was thus dammed. It's just basically a useful way of distinguishing who's on the good or bad side. Which is not to say that Raven's turned bad, just that she thinks she has.
Secondly as I mentioned in the author's note but I'm guessing no body read, yes Jinx dose know about Raven, but how is unimportant and will never be explained- she probable won't even come into the story again. She's not really part of the plot only a catalyst for the event of Raven leaving the Titans.
PLEASE REVIEW! OH HAVE MERCY!
Lol (lots of love)
Frankie