Hello there!
You guys are too amazing. I was going to wait to post this a little later, but I finished this chapter along with the first and I really wanted to share it with you.
If you hate me for screwing up the Faustian Contract, sorry. But, hey, this is fiction.
I'll be replying to all your fantastic reviews down below at the end of the chapter from now on. If you review after I've posted the following chapter, I'll try my best to private message you. As for guests, I'm sorry, I can't really reply to your reviews :( But I still appreciate them all the same and I send my gratitude through digital hugs.
I don't own any lines from The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe.
Thanks for putting up with me and my rantings.
The peaceful pitter-patter of the dreary winter rain was the only audible sound in the entire Tower that night. Though, it wasn't exactly peaceful for the resident bird. Instead, it was a bold red reminder at how empty the building was, which only gnawed deeper into his guilt.
He sat sitting at the window of the common room, curled into a ball, mask laying to his right whilst staring at the awaiting storm. Dense, livid clouds sprawled over the horizon, billowing forward in an almost graceful fashion. The air seems to still, before being completely disrupted by a sudden low rumble, signaling the anticipated chaos. Yet a single ray of moonlight peaked through, shining a sliver of hope on the city.
If Robin wasn't so angry with the world, he would've looked at it with artistic appreciation. But all he saw was a pathetic piece of purity that somehow managed to wriggle its way into the sinful, dirty world.
He stared closely at the glass, barely making out the reflection of his glassy eyes. They seemed to stare back, only they stared right through him, not at him.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd had his mask off so freely in the common room, since the other Titans weren't even remotely aware of his true identity. They just saw him as Robin, the fearless leader. But right then, he felt anything but fearless.
He felt impotent and small without the rest of his team. Without his team, he wasn't even Robin, the Boy Wonder. He was just a lonely teenager living in a ginormous glass tower all by himself.
He continued gazing blankly at the swirling clouds ahead, recalling Jinx's words from two nights before.
"What if I told you I could help you."
"Well, basically, this demon will fulfill whatever wish you want it to. Whether you want fame, money, power, or in your case, revenge and your team, they'd would have to help you achieve it."
"It gets to eat your soul."
Those words had haunted him for a total forty-eight hours as he replayed the conversation over, and over, and over again. Within those two days, Jump City was eerily quiet. It seemed as though even the petty villains had been shaken up by Slade's attack. But the sudden vacation didn't change the fact that he needed to make a decision. And quick.
Upon agreeing to the contract would be severe repercussions. Death would eventually be one of them. But without his team, Robin was pretty much dead already, so there wouldn't be much of a difference.
It was his fault they were gone in the first place, anyway. He knew that if he didn't do it, the guilt and turmoil would eventually consume him, and he would become less of a hero and more of a vigilante.
That would mean he'd end up like Bruce, and seeing as to how miserable his adoptive father was, that was no life he wanted to live.
It was either that, or he'd go completely delirious, insane from the remorse that ate at him daily.
At that point, Death seemed much more promising.
That night, he only hoped Death himself would come rapping, gently tapping, at his door. And he would embrace it.
With a shaky breath and sullen eyes, he continued to stare at the pitch black storm, wishing he could get lost in all its chaos instead.
The heavy sound of the club music was barely enough to drown his thoughts.
Robin sulked, pushing around some fruity drink one of shameless waitresses had offered him with a bright red straw. It was far too sweet for his taste. Though it did remind him of a drink that Star liked. He much more preferred his usual scotch.
"Loosen up, kid," Jinx hissed in his ear before yanking him up, "this is a club, not a funeral."
With that, she shoved him into the mass of people, much to his irritation. He hated the feeling of sweaty bodies bumping constantly into one another with no care, and the musky, strong scent of sex and booze that everyone seemed to reek of.
He tried to make his way through to the other side where he could hide from the witch once more, but before he could, he felt a pair of hands grab his arms, pulling him down into a sloppy rhythm he failed to keep up with.
Robin cringed, before politely excusing himself from the invasive girl with a charming smile and a few pretty words.
God, he hated this so much.
He was never one to go out to clubs and dance. He wasn't too keen on picking up girls with his "rad moves" as Beastly would so kindly put it. That was more of the changeling's forte. The only reason Robin had ever come to such a god awful place would be to catch some passing drug lord or serial rapist. Other than that, he tried as hard as possible to avoid them.
But this was, according to Jinx, the best way to lure out the beings of the underworld. He highly doubted that was true, and was pretty sure she just did it so she could watch him make a fool of himself.
She'd claimed that demons pretty much fed on sinful souls only, so the worse of a person you were, the more tasty of a meal you'd be to a beast.
Robin nearly laughed at that. Yes, because a 19-year-old superhero good doer who wore spandex on a regular basis and had a alias like Robin was such a baddie.
But apparently lust was a terrible sin, and anyone within a club of any sort had a tainted soul for that night. Which is why he was there.
And that was only for one sin.
Lust, pride, greed, envy, sloth, wrath, and gluttony. All seven deadly were applicable at a club.
And his job for the night? Somehow manage to emit as much of all seven as possible.
Whether it worked or not, he was under the witch's watch and instructions for the night, and had to play her way.
All the people here were stupid. Wasting their time at a place like this? How shallow.
Everyone in the room just wanted a quick one night stand. He couldn't fathom why, though. They were all just foolishly polluting their own images for desires of the moment that could be fulfilled nightly by someone official.
But whether he liked it or not, he had to put up with it. It was the only way it would work.
Robin's eyes danced around the room, trying to seek an appropriate prey. He quickly spotted a girl sitting alone in the corner of the room, her blond hair piled in a bun of sorts as she hiccuped away at nothing, obviously shit-faced.
She seemed like a pretty good person to feel up.
As he made his way over to her, he straightened out his collar.
Before he could convince the devil he was aroused, he had to convince himself, too. That shouldn't be too hard considering the situation... right?
When he approached her, she giggled loudly, and extended a hand.
He doesn't remember her saying her name, or he didn't care enough to listen, because before she could even speak, he placed a hand on each side of her face, pulling her in for a slaphappy mouthful.
Normal he wasn't so straight forward and assertive, but he needed to be quick tonight. Time was only so precious to Slade.
Teeth clanked and tongues twisted and lewd noises emitted from the other party.
Robin didn't particularly like this kind of kiss. He'd only kissed one girl before and meant it, and that was Barbara back when they were 14. Of course, he had plenty of other flings here and there, but they were never serious and he could never assure himself that he actually like them.
The girl was forceful, gripping his ebony locks in one hand while yanking his chin down with the other. He faintly heard a few cat calls and whistling around them, but chose to ignore them. Instead, he put all of his anger and pent up frustration into that kiss, squeezing the back of her neck so hard it had to have bruised.
She let out a small whimper before he released his grip on her, pulling back as they both panted heavily, her staring at him while he stared through her.
She was just another pretty face in the ocean of people. A pawn in his game.
The blond giggled again, and he pressed his bruised lips to her swollen ones, trying to lose himself in the kiss so he could forget about the fate that awaited him.
When they finished, he only smiled, whispering pretty little lies into her ears before she lost herself, and didn't even realize he'd left long ago.
Lust. Check.
That night, he'd probably sucked face with a good five girls, and had become increasingly worried that he might get oral herpes.
The second girl he'd kissed was in the ladies room, her sitting on the sink, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. The only thing he remembers about that one was her loud voice and even louder moans.
The third had taken him to her VIP room after he'd charmed her with a glass of moonshine and signature smile. He could still faintly feel her claws scraping down his back.
The fourth girl was small and petite, but surely as kinky as any. They'd locked lips at the bar, only for a spare moment before her boyfriend came and nearly punched him out. He didn't bother retaliating.
The fifth was boring and plain, so he didn't even bother with the introductions.
By the sixth girl, he had grown irritated that nothing had happened, and decided to leave mid kiss without an explanation. Screw the lust.
Jinx had said the demon would come at night in his most desperate hours.
He wasn't quite sure why no demon had come for him yet. He'd been at the place for well over three hours, and had flirted with a good amount of innocent girls.
It was close to midnight, and he'd never been so distraught. At first, he was ready to accept his fate. But now, he was just irked and miffed that nothing had showed up.
Did the underworld not take superheroes seriously? If not, he was sure heaven would.
"Nothing's happening," he snapped, glaring at the witch who had been downing twelve shots of god knows in the midst of a forming crowd. Jinx wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, shooting him an equally nasty look.
"Obviously," she slurred, pulling him into the corner of the club where the bathrooms were. "You're not doing anything! You're not feeling anyone up, you're not being a douchebag, you're not shoving your face with appetizers or scotch, you're not jealous of any other men in this place, you're not hounding any ass, you haven't slugged anyone yet, and you're certainly not procrastinating on anything as far as I know!"
He exhaled slowly running a hand through ebony locks as he stared up at the ceiling. She was so fucking stubborn. Not too mention that besides the tips on what to do, she hadn't helped him at all that night.
His patience was running thin. Dangerously thin.
"I did feel a girl up! Five girls, actually! Or hound her ass or whatever you want to call it," he replied sharply, "And I liked it! That's a sin, right? So tell me where the demons are, hm?"
"You think Satan give two shits? Uh, news flash, everyone in this damn club has that in common. They're all horny. So if you think you're gonna lure out the devil with just that, you might as well give up," Jinx ranted, the alcohol clearly taking a toll on her as her voice raised.
"You think I'm not trying?"
"I don't think you're trying hard enough. Stop being a pussy and live a little."
That's it.
"Fine!" he barked, throwing his hands up in frustration. He was just wasting his time here, anyway. "This is clearly heading absolutely nowhere, so I'm leaving."
The witch snorted, waving him off.
"Ta-ta, Dear! But remember, when you come crawling back to me, begging for your precious little Titans, I won't be there."
Robin had to fight the urge to slap her then and there.
He knew Jinx was probably heavily intoxicated, but that didn't make the sting of her words any less. With a huff, he spun around, pushing his way through the sea of drunken idiots.
The frigid winter breeze hit his face as he pushed open the door to the club, closing his eyes when he no longer had to hear any of that hardly-could-call music.
The stillness of the air was all it took to tire him.
He trudged slowly into the alley behind the bar, letting his head go slack against the dingy brick.
He was far too sleepy to walk all the way back to the Tower.
Obviously, it wasn't the best idea to just camp out here in the dark, but Robin was a trained crime fighter, so it didn't faze him much.
He closed his eyes, still tasting the lips of the last girl he'd kissed. She was shy and sweet, unlike the other ones. But that didn't make her any more likable to him. He needed someone who would play just as rough as he did. Someone who he'd see as a challenge. Preferably a challenge neither of them one. None of those girls gave him that. They just melted into his hands as soon as he opened his mouth. He could barely remember their faces. They were all blurry and melded together. Like a glob of pitiful putty.
Instead of leaving to return home, Robin stood there, staring at blankly at the dark alley while he reminisced about his time in the club. The silence of the place was rather unnerving, but silence nonetheless that pulled him slowly into slumberland. Lightly gasping for breath, eyes drooping.
Robin could almost hear sleep calling him. Begging him.
"It's quite pretty, isn't it?"
His eyes shot open, glancing around feverishly.
He was very much so awake, now.
His eyes landed on the figure who'd spoken, hidden in the shadows of the alley.
It was a girl.
A girl who had not been there before.
He could scarcely make out her porcelain features in the darkness, but it seemed as if she was gazing at the stars. He could only assume that's what she was calling pretty.
Robin could only see half of her face at the angle he was standing, and he didn't want to move to scare her. Or himself. The rest of her body was shrouded in darkness, away from his curious view.
She ignored his slight gasp of surprise, saying nothing. Only forlornly staring at the constellations in silence.
He moved closer to observe her, and her head whipped around, eyes staring at him dryly. He sucked in a breath, his own eyes widening in surprise and terror. Fantastic terror he thought he'd never felt before.
Now Robin was certain he wasn't dreaming, but in fact undoubtedly mad. Though schizophrenia wasn't so horrifying if he'd the pleasure of seeing that face in his lapses of insanity.
No mortal could've dreamt of seeing a face with such precision and detail. A face of downright sin.
He couldn't make out the color of her deep set eyes, but he could see the thick frame of dark eyelashes that gave them a seductive gaze. That made her all the scarier. Set closely on top of them were a pair of even darker brows, slightly arched in a snarky fashion.
In left hand she clutched a cigarette, occasionally bringing it to her plump lips for a drag.
Her petite, sharp nose made her seem much less intimidating, giving her cold, indifferent face a softer glow to them. Her snowy cheeks flushed slightly pink as her shadowed eyes leered at him with a glassy look.
He studied her sharply cut strands that fell just above her shoulders. A dark shade that reminded Robin of the canopy of the twilight, an indigo that leaned more on the purple spectrum, gleaming from the dim light passing through the alley.
Whether she an angel or demon, he couldn't very so tell. Demons couldn't be so... alluringly pretty. And angels shouldn't have looked at people the way she looked at him. That was just pure sin, and he could tell by her face that she damn well knew it.
He'd never witnessed a beauty quite like her's. He knew Starfire was 'hot' in terms of society, and he rightfully agreed so. But the alien was a naive, fun, flirty girl that was as adorable as a kitten. This girl was nothing near a kitten. No, he decided she seemed much more like a panther, sleek and agile, that could pounce at any given moment.
She didn't necessarily have an 'adorable' or 'cute' glow to her like Star did, but she had something much more. There was a dark, wrongful aura that encased her in all its velvety glory.
She wasn't necessarily the prettiest person he'd ever met. Pretty wouldn't describe her accurately. It was too fleeting, light, and innocent of a word to use on her. Beautiful was not an option, either. It was too nice- too red-lipsticked and natural.
This girl was none of those things. She just had this attractive glow to her, a dangerously attractive glow. A vixen in black, or perhaps a siren of the depths. By far more lustful than any of those other bimbos in the club. They hadn't managed to make as much of an impression on him in half an hour the this girl did in two minutes.
She was mysterious, Robin decided. And everyone knew Robin absolutely adored a good mystery.
"Uh, yeah..." he spoke, words fumbling, "You mean the stars, right?"
She seemed startled by the broken stillness, pondering an appropriate answer before she laughed- no chuckled- a harsh, low grumble, interrupting his angry assumptions. A chuckle that made her all the more... inviting.
She nodded her head, a dull glare that no doubt called him stupid adorning her orbs.
"Yes," she answered pointedly, cigarette meeting her lips once again before she took another long drag.
Though her mouth made no move, her eyes followed him with a silent smirk as she moved closer to him but not enough to uncover her face from the darkness.
"You looked like you were having the time of you're life in there," she chuckled, voice slightly raspy from the cigarette.
He flushed, mouth agape in embarrassment as he began to laugh sheepishly. Great. The only girl he'd taken an interest in all night had seen him fucking around with a handful of other girls. Of course, he couldn't even explain himself without seeming like an absolute lunatic, so he could only own up to it.
Well, the odds certainly aren't in my favor today.
"Oh," he muttered, "you saw that?"
She only smiled, which worried him even more. She shifted out of the gloom and into the faint light, with a sultry gait that made him tremble. God help him.
In the light, he could see that her eyes were much more exotic than he ever would have anticipated. Two unforgiving pools of ink drenched plums stared back at him, blinking slowly as if to mock him.
They looked absolutely endless, and were colder than the chilling winter frost. A perfect mixture between red and blue. A searing gaze of icy orbs. He'd never seen any color quite like it. It wasn't the purple of amethysts or lavenders. It wasn't the blue of the seas or the skies. It was something of a shade in between, like the color of a blossoming bruise. He'd never thought he'd describe something attractive like that, but they were the only words that fit. A grotesque kind of pretty. A devil's kind of romantic.
If he had looked closer, he might've seen the hunger in them. A yearning that was too dangerous. But he was far too lost in their magnificence.
So far lost that he'd barely registered them flashing crimson. It had happened so quickly, Robin thought it might have been a trick of the light.
But when she only smiled at him, he realized it was very real. She was very real.
And so were the demons within her eyes.
Well, fuck me.
At that, he knew he was dead. He must have been.
Hell was empty, and the devils were here.
Robin had never been so speechless before.
He panicked for the second time that night, movements freezing. There he was, standing within ten feet of the epitome of evil, and all he could do was gape. So many thoughts raced through his head at that moment, he thought he was going to explode. She could probably make that happen, though.
He decided the best thing to do right now was remain calm, and act oblivious. That's how people seemed to survive in horror movies.
"I'm Robin," he spoke, never wavering, "And you are?"
The girl dropped her cigarette to the ground, crushing it with the toe of her black suede boots. When her face lifted up to look at him, he found himself nearly shaking.
"Does it matter?" she inquired with a teasing lilt, studying him with a tilted head, "I mean, you just want to get in my pants, right?"
The blush came back, this time spreading across his entire body. He didn't know he could feel so hot when it was below freezing outside.
"I-"
"On the morrow you'll just leave me as my hopes have flown before," she purred, leaning in so close that he could smell the scent of tobacco lingering on her kissable lips, "Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore."
"Quoth the Raven," she smiled deviously, and he knew he was gone, "'Nevermore.'"
A bird or thing of evil, he decided she was both.
But the longer her bitter lips pressed against his own, the surer he was that he could tell no more.
Xaphrin: I honestly had such a fangirl moment when I read your review. One of the first ever fanfictions I'd read for Teen Titans was your Honeythief and Primeval. To be able to get your stamp of approval is beyond fantastic. I agree with you on the bar part. Robin really doesn't seem like someone who'd rant to Jinx of all people minutes after a traumatizing event. But I thought it would be a more interesting approach to his feelings rather than simply having him reminisce about it all alone. Thanks for the tips!
chizakura52: Thank you! I'll try and update at least once or twice a week (depending on how inspired I feel) hehe :))
AngeNoirRae: Right? I mean, isn't the thought of a sexy demon feasting on the soul of another good looking individual just so hot? Just kidding, and thanks.
DoctorWatsabella: Thank you! I thought maybe I was rushing things, but I'm glad you enjoyed it. And you have great taste in books ;)
A/N
I'm pretty sure that entire second half of the chapter was just easter eggs and foreshadowing within a 'sort-of-poem' about Raven. That was super fun to write. I know the whole Poe thing is kind of overused and cliche, but I thought it was appropriate for the scene. Raven's a dark, mysterious character that has so much quality and potential to just bloom when you're writing about her.
Thanks again,
Yellerumbrellas