Author's Note: Thought or Emphasis; Flashback; Thought or Emphasis in Flashback
I don't own Teen Titans. If I did, who knows? Maybe ideas like these would become comic book one-shots?
Robin.
Raven.
Starfire.
Cyborg.
Beast Boy.
We are all familiar with those commendable crime-fighters, the teenage heroes who smacked down Slade, trounced Trigon, and beat the Brotherhood of Evil. We know their looks, their lives, even their secret identities. We see their world and happily accept it; for some fans, it is the first fantasy world they ever knew.
But what of other worlds?
What of a world in which one decision changed the entire world's fate?
What if Robin began to relish his apprenticeship under Slade? What if Beast Boy saved the Doom Patrol before joining the Titans?
What if the Titans were born in a different way altogether?
Let us take ourselves to see the lives of our favorite characters...
...in another time and place...
Teen Titans: Another Time and Place
Universe 1
The Kingdom of the Leap was a grand one. For generations, the royal family presided with a just hand in a castle of five towers each reaching skyward with pride. Trading boomed thanks to harbors on the western shore, and all directions bore protection of stone walls and skilled soldiers, loyal to the crown.
Yet one group of defenders stood above the rest. For them, a great feast commenced. In the banquet hall, barrels of wine and mead complemented the assortment of succulent meats, fruits and vegetables fresh from the royal gardens, and delicate sweet pastries made by the most adept bakers in the castle. Tapestries of legends and history both ancient and not so long ago graced the walls, but wine spilled by a few foolish drunks threatened to defile their beauty.
Speaking of drunks, one knocked into a man at the table, where he felt a single hand shove him off his feet with the words, "Mind your step, fool!"
"What is it to you, you giant—" The "fool" sobered up quite quickly once he saw who he affronted. A burly dark-skinned man frowned down upon a fellow royal guardsman who dared knock the ham out of his hands. Fighting threats against his homeland was hard at times, but being able to feast on the bounty that earth provided made the troubles worth it.
And the meat-lover indeed endured past troubles, illustrated by the scars littering his body. A veteran to battle, one old clash even cost him an arm, which he replaced with a massive metallic limb. Perhaps due to vanity or paranoia, he wore his shining armor nearly all of the time in public, spreading rumors among the rabble that he was really a metal man animated by sorcery.
"I-I-I apologize, Sir Victor."
"I greatly advise that you should." Ebony globes peered into frightened blues. "Were we not brothers in arms, I would readily strike your head flat!" He accented this with a pound of his metal hand meeting its partner of flesh.
"Hey, hey! No need for violence here, friends." An emerald-eyed lad, skin and hair the same hue, quickly stepped amidst the warriors. "Our victory against Jonathan the Rancid and his wicked hellhound calls for not war, but celebration!" He turned to the fellow festive crowd with a grin. "AM I RIGHT, MEN?" With a raise of his goblet, everyone in the overall group of twenty raised their cups with a yell...
...Almost everyone.
"Lady Raven, surely it will not wound you to cheer with us?" Unlike the exuberant young man who managed to acquire a seat beside hers and drank mead, the young woman kept silent and sipped tea traded in from the east. Another contrast was the pair's clothing: his loose purple tunic and black pants frayed at the bottom of each leg, her indigo robes accented by a mystic brooch, marking her as a sorceress.
Finishing a bit of roast pheasant, she replied blandly, "Sadly, I do not feel the urge, Sir Garfield. In fact, I fear that this feast"—while delicious, she inwardly admitted—"will be cut short."
The boy understood from whence her pessimistic view came. After her home, a magical realm known as Azarath, was destroyed by the dread demon Trigon, she lost much hope of finding a truly safe place to call home, especially in a world where might and magic were two of the strongest forces to determine one's fate.
The latter force determined the fate of Garfield, who, after stumbling upon a wizard's ritual to bring forth a chimera to protect his homeland, almost became cursed to become it. What saved the boy was a protection charm passed down by his deceased parents; turning the affliction into a strength, the combined magic allowed him to take the forms of animals both known and yet to be discovered.
"But Lady Raven, we must keep our spirits high! For the sake of tomorrow!" A tall, red-orange haired woman beamed across the table to her near-opposite. "There will someday come a time when we will lay down our blades, instead clasping the hands of our brethren in peace."
Her smile faltered with one fact—"That time is not this hour..."
—only to return in full force. "...But until that blessed morrow, we fight, AND REJOICE THE GOOD TIMES OF TODAY!" Another round of cheers resounded in the hall.
Despite the initial derision of a girl joining the royal guard, the optimistic foreigner's attitude brought a spark of life back into the men who grew weary from battle. It also helped that her inhuman strength was unmatched by any one of her comrades, only Sir Victor coming close. Some guessed that her power was simply a product of her birthplace, a place about which very few of this kingdom knew.
Unlike Raven, this woman's outlook on life grew brighter after a life-changing turn of events: Betrayed by her sister in a deal with the Gordanian marauders to spare her own life, the young woman would have been their trophy—and worse—were it not for a then-inexperienced and wandering knight's noble act to sneak her out of the camp.
That night, the amateur unknowingly saved the lost heir to the Tamaranean throne.
Said knight aligned with his teammate and, according to rumors, lover. "I must agree with Starfire, Raven. Even my old master, serious as he was, reminded me of the importance of taking reprieve." The former squire of the legendary Dark Knight (secretly Lord Bruce of the house of Wayne) sat calmly in a red tunic and green pants that, while seeming short and restrictive, never limited his smooth movement. Even when taking upon armor, he could skillfully maneuver the battlefield like the acrobats who entertained King Glen on his birthday.
"And furthermore, you need not fear, milady..." Garfield deftly slipped her hand in his, slyly grinning at the enchantress. "...For I am here to protect you." He slowly lifted her pale hand towards his lips...
...only to bitterly taste her rebuff, as she removed herself from his grasp. "Will it resemble how I protected your bear's fur from becoming singed this morn?"
Stumbling from the sting, he pathetically brushed it off. "That was a simple misstep of mine, I assure you."
"Like the time you were bound by that crazed horseman for being a 'demon changeling' and almost dragged out of the village?"
"I escaped the trap before we reached the gates, did I not?"
Victor, finishing his third plate of the table's offerings, remembered, "What of when you decided to become a falcon to timely reach morning training, but neglected to remember the archery tournament at dawn?"
"I am certain that they had terrible aim despite my 'absurd interruption'!" Garfield pouted in recollection of the insult. "Hmph, 'absurd' indeed. That judge was a hateful windbag!"
As all laughed at the lad's misadventures (the sorceress stifling a bemused smirk), the mild disturbance Raven felt that night began to pervade, such that she struck down the mood with her next words:
"But you forget, Sir Richard... When have my premonitions ever been wrong?"
"You indeed speak truth, Lady Raven." The last time the guard ignored her, they lost three men to a crimson-haired wolf-creature in one night before finally slaying the beast. "Perhaps we should end this—"
Inhuman cries reached the heroes' ears, silencing the entire hall. They sounded like people in pain... yet something dark lilted behind the noise.
One random soldier asked the unspoken: "What the hell was that?"
"Sir Richard! Sir Richard!" A dark-haired boy of around ten years old burst through the doors, his tattered clothing and worn shoes smudged by dirt collected in his run. Also collected were scrapes on his hands, the result of a few falls on the way. The message he would bring, however, was too urgent for him to stop and address something so minor.
"What is it, Timothy?" Richard met him less than a year ago; he was a bit mischievous, but the knight saw his potential. Perhaps, like himself, he could become a squire of a legend one day...
"He... he's here!" Tim's body quaked from fear and lack of breath as he struggled to speak his name.
"Who?" The royal guard's leader shook the boy, who finally snapped into focus.
"The Slayer!"
"Slade." The guard faced him before. Very few knew of his name (only survivors who truly impressed him had that honor) and even fewer his true face, masked by one half bronze and the other some unknown dark metal. Some called him a soul vanquished by a former king that pulled itself back from the devil's inferno. Others thought him a secret heir ousted from the throne. Whatever the reason, the terror known as the Slayer seemed to hold one goal: to crush the Kingdom of the Leap, and anyone in his way, into dust.
His attempts, while few compared to other villains, were potentially devastating. From letting loose a slime creature on the land, to trying to coax Robin to his side via a dangerous illness put on his fellow warriors, the Slayer made to drag the kingdom ever closer to the brink of destruction.
Jade orbs hit the floor, as did as their possessor's mood. "This is not good."
A dark skinned hand dropped a leg of lamb. "I believe I have lost my appetite."
A pallid face enshrouded let out a sigh. "I knew it."
Others expressed their distaste: "We lost half of our men to that beast last time!"
"Lady Raven is never wrong... I pray she has not seen our end..."
"Of course she has, dunce! Don't you see? We are all damned!"
"SILENCE!" The spiky-haired leader slammed his fist onto the table. Despite his small frame, his commanding voice always managed to take up a room. "Are we not heroes? Defenders? We each made an oath to be so. Yet now, when this menace comes to harm our land, you cower like children?"
A stern pair of ebony orbs swept over the crowd, some men sinking into their chairs at their gaze. Upon reaching one face, though, Richard quickly remembered who was in his audience.
"...No offense to you, Tim."
"None taken, sir."
"Right. As I was saying, the king placed the safety of the kingdom upon our shoulders, and I for one will not prove his faith in us wrong! Who will fight beside me?"
To his dismay, the silence Richard commanded now only continued, accompanied by a score of now still bodies in their seats. If not for the torches lighting the halls, no one could observe the guard's signs of life.
This quiet was brief, however, as the mighty maiden burst from her seat. "I will always stand beside you, Richard." Her words held both a comrade's loyalty and an emotion burning only for him, one she dared not fully express... yet.
The one-armed man stood and stepped forth with a smirk. "What is but one more battle?" Richard gave a smirk of his own; he knew he could count on his second-in-command, especially if he actually hungered for a fight. The leader found a strange paradox in him; how was there such a hunger in a man who probably had less skin than scars, even losing a limb? Perhaps he wished to complete some imagined collection of injuries? Yet no one truly wished to fight tonight's opponent; Richard could only hope for enough men to join him.
A cloaked figure glided (literally?) to the threesome. Once more, she brushed aside her pessimism. It was not needed here; this night called for action. "I am with you. No one will destroy my home as long as I take breath."
Then there was one, who the quartet saw reaching for a fruit tart, effort shown on his face; why did the blasted thing have to be so far? Getting the feeling he was being watched, he paused his endeavor and looked about, only to see the entire room laid its eyes on him.
"What?"
"Well?" The largest of the four asked expectantly.
"Well, of course I'm with you!" He almost felt offended. "...I simply wanted to wait for the others to talk first." He got up from his seat and made his way to the group—snatching the fruit tart on the way, of course.
He had his most trusted friends beside him, but still... "Will no more stand up and protect his land?"
Nothing, then: "I'll stand with you." A red-capped man renowned for his skills in archery stepped over, his quiver ever-present on his shoulder.
"As will I." A recent recruit sharing the same dark complexion as Victor joined them, the shine of the twin daggers on her hips somehow matching the gleam in her eye.
"We will too!" Identical twins spoke in unison. The two often spoke in a language only they knew, but their uniquely swift and tandem style of fighting was a menace to evil on the field.
More and more grew inspired.
"I... I'll do it!"
"Eh, who lives forever?"
"I'd follow Starfire to the world's end and back!" Said warrior blushed at the attention.
Soon all the seats grew bare, the score of men and women emboldened. Faces ranged from terse lips of gravity to glowing smiles of confidence. Robin matched them with his own small grin, proud of his partners.
"Yes! Together we can weather anything that one-eyed beast will throw at us!"
A cheer answered back.
"Slayer or no, his warpath will halt tonight!"
The second yell rang out.
"We will not run, we will not hide; we will fight! For we are titans on the battlefield, and WE ARE UNSTOPPABLE!"
The last cry of courage came with fists raised. These "titans" rushed from the hall, grasping their weapons that each thirsted for the blood of evil. They raced to the kingdom's south with armor on their shoulders and fire in their hearts.
They faced the threat at the gates to their home. Dozens of disciples dressed in dark armor and dull iron and bronze masks hung behind, a few brandishing his flag: no more than an S seemingly carved into the paper. They outnumbered the guard by at least five to one, but that was not the true danger.
No, what faced the score of warriors was a truly gruesome chimera. A rock golem appeared to be its basis, but some rancid ooze pushed forth between the cracks, smothering the skeleton. Where the slime did not cover, lightning infrequently arced from point to point. Spotting its prey, its multitude cry pierced the evening air once again; tormented souls begged for release from their horrible mortal bonds. Such an amalgam could only be the Slayer's handiwork; he was not simply a master in combat, but displayed magical prowess as well.
The man himself posed at the creature's side. His unassuming armor, almost completely black save for iron boots and gauntlets, hid itself under a tattered cloak that had seen a hundred battles. As always, the face was obscured. The only visible part of his visage was an eye blacker than the night about him and colder than Princess Kole's frosted kingdom. This freezing stare broke through the metal guarding men's flesh and tore into their hearts, causing a rare few of the newest guard to lose grip on their weapons.
Those few were nothing to the Slayer. Who really interested him was the boy, the only one in years to truly challenge him. Would he defeat him someday? It was an amusing thought, but he certainly had a long journey ahead. Their first battle specifically was the villain's win, and he spared his junior opponent purely out of this interest. At the end, he left Richard with a deep cut on his chest, which spilled his blood about and reminded the villain of a familiar red-breasted bird. It was this reason he gave Richard a certain term of endearment...
"Hello, little robin."
"Slade." The young leader scowled, hand already gripping the hilt of his blade.
The older warrior gave no reaction to his junior's gesture, only words. "Why so short with me, after all we've been through together... little robin?" He knew the boy hated that name, judging by how his hand on the hilt tightened. "Have not my visits provided such excitement to your life? A life I decided to spare not long ago?" One could swear a smirk hid under his mask.
"I owe you nothing, demon!" With a pull, Richard's sword bared itself to the world. Made of a metal fallen from the heavens itself, the obsidian-shaded blade reflected an almost mystical blue gleam in the moonlight—Nightwing readied to bite into flesh. "This life you spared shall take yours in turn!"
"My minions and I shall test that promise." The lumbering chimera's roar seemed to agree. With a mere nod from its master, it charged, followed by an army of the wicked.
It was time to fight. With a cry from both sides, the eternal clash of good and evil continued. Screams of pain and clangs of metal mixed with feral bellows and incantations. Lightning and magic crossed the battlefield.
And still, one young man's words prevailed over the din. Would it be his final command? The future would tell the outcome, cementing his words in legend:
"Remember what we fight for, and who we are!
"Heroes!
"Titans!
"GO!"
END...?
Hey, guys, I'm back! While I kinda hit a brick wall with "You Idiot 2" (the working title for my first story's sequel), I was inspired by DC Comics' many comic book retcons and reboots, such as the one that happened to DC in 2011.
Just when I had gotten used to the ideas of Damian Wayne as Robin, and Wonder Woman with pants... Oh well.
Anyway, I also remembered the different Crises of DC Comics and thought, what of the universes that supposedly died, or are still hidden somewhere? The comics tend to show off adult heroes, but what about the Titans? After a couple scenarios came to mind (even the obligatory gender-flip), this was the result.
Let me know how you feel by clicking that review button. And remember...
Even if you didn't do it here, in an alternate universe, you DID write a review.
Your mind blown yet?