Please excuse Robyn. She means well.
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans.
ROBYN
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.
My hand snaps out, hitting the "sleep" button and shutting up the world's worst invention known as the alarm clock. I peer blearily out of my cotton fort to read the screen, which informs me with sadistic glee that it is six-thirty and time to get my ass out of bed.
I groan and swing my legs over the side and stretch, I can hear my shoulders and wrists crack a bit as they rotate in their sockets.
My eyes (blue by the way, not that you could actually see them) lazily rove my bedroom. Taking in the orange walls and my few pieces of furniture that break up the disgusting color as my brain catches up to my body and exits from its foggy sleep.
Despite what you might think I am not, in fact, a morning person. Comes with the territory really. When you wake up at one in the morning to flashing red lights to fight some self-styled "super villain" who is actually about as threatening as a dead fish you start to dislike alarms in general.
I'm talking about the so-called Condiment Queen by the way. Six, fucking, nights. All in a row. I'm still wrapping my head around how she escaped prison using nothing but a ketchup packet and a pickle five days in a row..
But I digress. The old days of riding with Batwoman are behind me. The less I think of her and my old home the better.
I quickly slip out of my old uniform and into a fresh one. (Heroes can't risk the alarm sounding when we're wearing pyjamas can we? So, lacking super speed, I'm permanently stuck in my uniform. Yay) I run through my day as I pull the skin-tight red shirt over my head and put on a new cape:
-wake up
-get dressed
-brush teeth
-read police reports
-breakfast while reading newspapers
-morning briefing
-training
-lunch
-more training
-dinner
-read police reports
-sleep
Nasty right? All work and no play makes a grumpy Robyn after all!
Except it doesn't.
Living with Batwoman (Can't seem to get you out of my head this morning...) from a decently young age drilled into me that work is unavoidable, and there is no use complaining about it. There is no such thing as too much work, if that thought ever crosses my mind it just means I'm not trying hard enough.
I can't claim to "enjoy" my work per say, but I don't dislike it. I dislike the people who make it necessary.
All this floats in my head as I brush my teeth and apply gel to my black locks of hair. Its length is somewhat impractical as it reaches down to just below my collarbone and has been grabbed in fights past, but I'll take a few punches (or pulls in this case) if it means I don't have to walk around with a buzz cut.
Plus, it's nowhere near as long and poofy as Changeling's.
With my morning ablutions done with I briefly scan last night's police reports. Fifty Break-ins, twenty assaults, a murder or two, a fire-fight between the police and the Honeycomb gang, and one report of a duck holding up a bank.
I'm dead serious. It actually says that a few human goons and a common mallard held the cashier at gunpoint and demanded all the money they had just minutes before closing time.
I presume it was the goons who were doing the robbery and not the duck. Still, they must be running out of good motifs if they resort to dragging along random waterfowl.
Sighing, I shut off my computer and make my way to the door. "I hope the coffee is ready." I mutter, stalking down the orange hallway towards the main room.
...
"Who am I kidding?" I chuckle to myself as the double doors hiss open to reveal a large room with a long, simple counter and a table with benches around the sides lacking windows of any sort. It is all made of orange metal. "Everything is ready."
And so it is. Waffles, pancakes, sliced fruit, sausages and bacon (normal and tofu), cinnamon rolls; a buffet that covers a good two meters of the counter.
"You name it, we have it." I hum happily, noticing my coffee just finishing off to the side. It's still beyond me how Crow can make all this in less than an hour, and the fact that my coffee always seems to finish the instant I walk in the room.
He doesn't make a girl wait. I can think of a few men who could take lessons from him.
I scoop up a bagel, a cinnamon roll, and a few apple slices before sitting down with coffee to enjoy breakfast. "This reminds me of Amelia's cooking."
I sigh whilst grabbing the newspaper, the old butler lingering in my mind.
So much for not thinking about my old home.
###
A half an hour passes before I see anyone (I am yet to actually see Crow despite him making breakfast, he's probably cleaning something again). When the doors finally open I'm joined by Starfire.
Starfire, my second in command, stands at 5"10, six inches higher than myself. He has bright orange skin (much more pleasant than the murky orange that is the tower's paintjob), piercing green eyes (irises and sclera both, though of different shades), along with unruly crimson-red hair that trails down to the middle of his back. It's kept in relative order by several hairbands that stop it from spraying everywhere as he flies about.
Yes, he can fly. He can also punch through metal walls and throw exploding energy bolts. He was also apparently an army commander back on his home planet. It's beyond me how. From what I know he's basically sixteen. Much too young to be commanding troops.
"Greetings Higher." He says, giving me a brief salute. "Does the day find you well?"
"Just fine Starfire." I murmur, flipping a page and tracing my finger down an article displaying the Titans as I read.
"That is good to hear." I see him nod out of the corner of my eye. "I had concerns that our battle yesterday may have unnerved you."
I grimace slightly at this, hoping he won't-
"I offer apologies again for my inability to block the shot. You could have been severely wounded. I will not fail you again."
-start implying I'm weak. No such luck.
In case you don't know, he's referring to a little skirmish a few days ago between the Titans and one of the city's many gangs. It quickly devolved into a firefight that almost ended with me taking a shot to the shoulder when one of the goons managed to sneak by Starfire and around my cover before taking a shot. I managed to dodge and punch him out, but it seems that Star considers this a significant issue.
I get his line of thinking. He's the big strong male and I'm the weak little girl. I suppose he means well in his offensive sexist way; but I do not need to be protected, I'm trained for this!
I grit my teeth and change topic, deciding to put him on the spot. "You're late."
He pauses while collecting his breakfast to glance at the small analogue clock sitting on the counter. "It is seven o' two, were we not supposed to meet half an hour after six-thirty?"
"That was two minutes ago." I snap. "You. Are. Late."
He winces, "My apologies Higher."
I huff in annoyance. "I expect this of Cy and Crow. They're new to the hero business. Changeling is a bit of slacker, so I'm not surprised by that either." I fix my glare on him. "But you were part of an actual military, right?"
"Yes Higher."
"And you underwent strict training and learned the importance of protocol, right?"
"Yes Higher."
"Then you have no excuse for lateness, do you?"
"No Higher. I apologize Higher," He goes down on one knee, bowing his head. "My ineptitude is inexcusable. I will submit to any discipline you request."
"Perhaps that was a bit of an overreaction on my part." I think to myself, grimacing slightly as I look down on the boy kneeling in front of me. "What sort of leader does that make me? I'm not Batwoman. I'm not that harsh."
Just as I was about to speak, the doors hiss open to reveal the greenest member (literally and figuratively) of our team.
"Rob, just what are you taking out on poor Star now?" She huffs, strutting in with her usual easy confidence that instinctively drew all eyes in a room to her. "He couldn't possibly have done something worth your anger. He's a regular boy scout!"
Changeling. An all-melee shapeshifter who is not to be underestimated regardless of what form she takes, human included. She stands at my height (5"4), but that is where the resemblance ends. Laid back, friendly, social, and with a body that can kill (in more ways than one), she's everything I'm not. In the brief week that us Titans have been protecting Jump city from the regular goons the media has taken an immense liking to her, and her to them. No matter where you look, you can see her on the front of some newspaper posing for the camera.
Most of the time you can even see her face. (Damn pedos, she's sixteen damnit!)
Just seeing her reminds of the PR issues this team is going to have in the future. We're not just vigilantes like I'm used to being, oh no. We're an official superhero team, like the Justice league, and that means making a deal with the mayor which will probably entail press statements, charity events, and not making him deal with the issue of five unsupervised minors living in a giant extraterrestrial military drop pod.
Scripts and suits and scandals, oh my! I hate fame already.
Back on track though, Changeling continues to berate me for "abusing my authority" to "vent my insecurities".
Which of course I'm not. Starfire was late after all. "Plus even if I am "abusing my authority" I can't admit it. Need to keep face after all." I think grimly. "Never show weakness" was what Batwoman told me all the time in training.
Again with the Batwoman… Get yourself together Robyn.
"-stop using Star as your verbal punching bag, kay?"
"Yeah, yeah." I mutter. Changeling shoots me a disbelieving look. I glare back for a moment before clearing my throat and speaking up. "Alright, so where are Cy and Crow? They're ten minutes behind."
"I'm here, I'm here." Cyborg chuckles, her massive frame ducking through the door as it opens. "Calm down leader girl, not the end of the world."
The best way I could describe Cyborg is that she's everyone's cool big sister. Though sometimes I swear she's treating us like little kids and not the mature young adults we are. Standing at a towering 6"0, she barely fits through the gordanian doorways. Surprisingly, her large body and eerie cybernetics don't make her that intimidating. That's mostly because she's always calm and wears a small smile when it comes to dealing with anyone but villains.
I can't count the amount of times she's been called "sir" or "young man" by people she saves in this one week. How rude! Do they think that all girls have to be lithe and flexible to be heroes? We aren't here just for sex appeal!
Anyways…
"I swear!" I growl. "Am I the only one who's punctual around here?"
"Yep." Changeling huffs. "You're a stickler for it, that's for sure."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"This isn't the military Rob!"
I can hear a surprised Starfire say "It isn't?" off to the side, but I ignore him and let Cyborg handle it. I have greener problems to deal with. "That doesn't excuse tardiness!"
"Maybe not." Changeling says defiantly. I feel a small twinge of satisfaction knowing my point was made. "But we don't need to wake up at seven in the morning! We don't have work hours! Most crimes we handle happen at night anyway!"
"Therefor we must spend the day preparing!" I counter. "Crime doesn't take breaks! So neither do we!"
"Can't even afford simple pleasures like sleeping in?" The green girl scoffs, folding her arms. "C'mon Rob, a girl needs her beauty sleep. I know how you moan and groan in the morning! So just sleep in a bit and don't be such a hardass."
"I am not a "Hardass"." I say testily. "I'm just responsible!"
"Well lay off your responsibilities in the morning then!" Changeling suggests, moving out of her confrontational posture and splaying her hands out innocently. "I'm your friend Rob, just trying to help. I'm saying you clearly need beauty sleep, and the rest of us wouldn't be opposed to extra sleep either."
"Well…" I frown. "Wait, "beauty sleep"? Stereotyped much! Just because I'm a girl-"
"Robyn, seriously, don't go feminazi on us so early in the morning." The green girl groans.
"I am not a feminazi." I pout. "Wait, exactly how you know about my morning moodiness? I'm normally over it by the time you guys get here."
"Crow told me." The shapeshifter shrugs. "What else did you expect?"
I suppose should have seen that one coming. As I just pointed out, neither Changeling nor Starfire nor Cyborg are awake at six-thirty. Crow, apparently, gets up at five. And though I never see him, he always seems knows where I am and what I'm doing.
Some might think it's creepy, but honestly Crow is… Crow. He just doesn't do creepy.
The door hisses open quietly. I only notice because Changeling's ears twitch and her head tilts to glance covertly at the entrance.
Speak of the devil.
"Sorry I'm late." The small boy whispers quietly. His head is tilted low and his eyes are on the floor. Actually, I can't see his eyes, as they are obscured by a large hood, but he always acts like this, so I can make a fair guess. "Did I miss the briefing?"
I sigh, glancing at the small analogue clock.
Seven twenty. Twenty minutes behind schedule because I've been arguing about my behavior or the benefits of sleep with Changeling and no one ever shows up on time.
For once, I almost wish all the supervillains hadn't gone into hiding as soon as the Titans were established so that there would be something truly productive to do rather than having everyone ignore my leadership and being behind on training.
This is shaping up to be another average day. Joy.
Robyn… Has issues. But her heart is (usually) in the right place.
No, I am not trying to mock feminists. Okay, well, maybe a little. I'm actually trying to establish that Robyn has a bit of a skewed perception of the world, so she's kinda straw at the moment.
Don't know who Condiment Queen is? Search up "Condiment King Batman" on google. I searched for joke Batman villains and found him.
