It's onto Chapter 3 ladies and gents. So, guess what? I have good news: It's almost summer! Normally, this wouldn't mean anything, but since it means the end of school I'll have more time to write & update! Hooray!

A/N: I am hoping to get a little deeper into the story soon, but for now I'm just building things up. Also, I really enjoy flashbacks because they fill in spaces where I don't know what to do next. I need ideas!

Disclaimer: I actually did own Teen Titans, but I sold the rights to DC Comics and Cartoon Network. Darn you DC Comics and Cartoon Network! I'll get you back…somehow. (Ten points to anyone who knows where that joke is from).


Kori had never seen so many tacky things in one place in the whole of her life.

There were rows of loud colors and patterns as far as the eye could see, clothes and accessories that even the 70s would be ashamed of, and strange purses the size of a klafg'ar (klaugh-gar). The worst came from a creepy looking old man who was selling hoop earrings the size of hula hoops. They looked more like something she'd played with as a child on Tameran.

"I never said everything about it was spectacular." Karen remarked, noticing the face Kori made as they passed that particular booth.

"How often do you come here?" Terra asked.

Her friend shrugged. "A friend of mine had a booth set up here before she moved, which was about a year ago. I don't come as much as I used to, though."

Kori raised an oval brow, but she didn't say anything. Her people wore stranger things—certainly more revealing things. Perhaps this had once been fashionable (although she highly doubted it).

"The cool thing about this place though is that you can find a bit of everything. You just need to know where to look." Karen pointed out, just as they passed by someone who was selling diamond encrusted watermelons. And they called the food of her home-world strange.

The girls drifted from booth to booth, but there wasn't much of anything that caught their eye. It was mostly smelly old clothes, bad accessories, and knick knacks. Who bought this stuff?

"Looking for something, child?"

Kori turned on her heel to see a short, gray-haired woman in an adjacent booth. She was wrapped up in purple robes, hovering over a spread of crystals and mirrors. Despite her hair, she did not appear old in any way, but a bit frightening. It was her smile, wide and toothy, but without warmth, that struck Kori.

"I'm sure I can accommodate you." She said in a low voice soft as silk.

Kori shook her head, "No, but thank you."

"Are you sure? Just have a look, I promise I don't bite." The woman replied.

She wasn't too sure about that.

With reluctance, Kori walked over to her booth and peered at her collection. The first thing she noticed was that this spread was different from the others. The items looked as if they belonged in some kind of fairy tale rather than a garage sale—an old fairy tale, though, like the Brothers Grimm.

In the far left corner was a large stack of books written in strange tongues, each larger the next. In another, there were racks of jewels and gold, hand mirrors encrusted with pearls, and even a full-sized crystal ball. However, what interested Kori was a coat rack not too far from her, made of weeping willow bark.

Hanging from the coat rack was a long bronze-ish chain, with brooches clipped to it. Each brooch was hand crafted with a variety of gems and designs. The one that really caught her eye was in the shape of a feather, made out of ruby and pearl. The edges of the brooch were carved to the finest detail to give it the look of a real bird feather, and not just some piece of jewelry. It was exquisite, and strangely enough it reminded her of Raven.

"It's beautiful." She whispered, turning it over in her hand.

"Oh, that old thing?" the woman chuckled, "that's nothing—a mere trinket. A lady such as yourself should look as something more like this." She held up a box of rings, and although they were pretty in their own right, they weren't enough to sway the princess. Something was pulling her towards the brooch, perhaps just missing her friend.

"How much is this?" she asked, pulling out her purse.

The woman sighed, "You can have it free of charge, if you like it that much. They really aren't worth much."

"I insist on paying." Kori protested.

The woman bit her lip, and thought it over for a moment. She then nodded, and took the brooch. After staring at it for a bit, she flipped it over, and removed the piece that allowed it to be pinned; now it was simply a pendant.

After a bit of searching, she fished out a black chain, strung the feather out on it and handed it back to the girl. "Twelve bucks," she said, "take it or leave it."

Kori smiled and paid the woman, "Thank you very much. You have no idea what this means to me." And with that the red head turned and ran off to show her friends.

As she watched her, the woman chuckled to herself, a dark, grating chuckle. She hadn't expected it to that easy. Poor naïve girl. She probably didn't have a brain in her head.

"Regardless," she whispered, "she'll be perfect."


Meanwhile…Well, actually, several hours ago...


Rich didn't really know what to think. "You revamped the T-Car?"

"I built a new one—something a little more suited to the work we do now. It's got two modes," Vic explained, "one for cruising and one for fighting."

The 'cruising' car was basic black, built like a sports car. It reminded Rich of a cross between a Ferrari and a Maserati. The 'fighting' car was a sleeker version of the old T-Car, only equipped with twice the gadgetry. It could operate on land, air, or sea, and if you wanted you could change which side the steering wheel was on, in case they happened to be passing through Europe. Or if Garfield ever tried to sneak off in the middle of the night.

"I thought the T-Car was your baby."

"Well, now I have a grandkid. But hey, some of the old parts are still in there: the engine, the surround system. And the waffle iron." Vic added.

"I don't remember the waffle iron."

"It was in the glove compartment. So, you wanna cruise around town? The pizza place has kinda fallen out, but they did build an amusement park."

Rich nodded, "Sounds good. Kori's still asleep though."

"Eh, she'll be okay. Hey grass stain!"

Static. Vic had installed an intercom in the garage? "Whaddya want tin can? Don't you know what time it is?" Garfield groaned.

"Dick and I are gonna head out," he replied, "make sure X is out of the tower before noon."

"Aye, aye captain! Oh crud, Roy is up! I'll see you guys later!" Garfield's voice faded with a crackle, and Vic shut off the intercom.

"Let's ride."

[A/N: Nanananananana driving scene! Yeah, no…]

The amusement park itself was huge, much bigger than he had been anticipating. Did Jump actually have the room or the 'income' to build an amusement park in the first place?

The entirety of the park was surrounded by a roller coaster, which seemed to be connected to almost every other coaster there. There was a cotton candy machine, a Ferris wheel, a dunk tank—anything and everything a kid could want in an amusement park, or in this case two grown men who had nothing better to do with their time. Go figure.

(A/N: At this point in time, there would usually be a montage scene, but I can't write one…)

They started at the simpler rides in the park, and eventually built up to the roller coaster which was appropriately named the 'Whirling Rocket of Death'. Needless to say much puking was involved, but isn't that the essence of the experience?

When the frivolity and vomiting was over, the two retired to a bench near the entrance gate and began chowing down on cotton candy. Rich remembered the first time Kori had ever had cotton candy—it had also been the first time she'd ever seen fireworks. Well, the first she'd seen fireworks and it didn't signal some kind of an invasion.

"So, do informants often stay in the tower?" Rich asked as he popped another piece in his mouth.

Vic shook his head, "No, just X. He comes and goes. Most of our informants like to stay in…sheltered parts of the city."

"Who's the most reliable, out of them all?"

"Well…I don't know." The other replied.

"Come on. Tell me."

Vic sighed, "How about I just take you to meet him instead? He might even have more answers for you than me."

Rich agreed, although he wasn't so sure now that would work out. More answers? What other questions did he have that didn't concern Raven? Or maybe that's what his friend meant.

After one more go on the coaster, they left the amusement park a little after two in the afternoon. According to Vic, the drive to see this guy was going to be long. Apparently not only he was the best, he was also the most secluded.

"He lives in a warehouse just outside of town," he said, "Never leaves."

After about half an hour of road, Vic made a turn into what looked like to be an old construction site. Rich could tell it hadn't been worked on in decades, seeing as nearly everything was covered in rust. It certainly wasn't safe for most people to go in—ideal for a villain who wanted to hide away.

"I usually wouldn't do this, but yesterday he called and mentioned he might have an update on the whole Raven thing." Vic said, effectively breaking the silence. Suddenly a million questions were flooding through his mind, but most of all—

"How can he find anything when you can't?" Rich asked.

"The man has connections, powerful connections. Or at least nosy ones. Ah! Here we are." Vic pulled up to an old, rusty building just at the edge between the city and the canyons.

As he got out of the car, Rich glanced up at the deserted warehouse with reserve. "Are you sure this is the place?" he asked, "I mean it looks like it's gonna cave it at any moment."

Vic nodded, "Been coming here for at least three years now."

"I'm not sure if this is a good idea."

"Hey, you wanted answers," the other replied, "So, are you coming in or not?"

..."Fine."

The two silently slipped inside the decaying structure. To his surprise, the building was empty, save for an elevator in the near right corner. "Don't tell me…" he muttered.

Vic stepped inside, as did his friend, and pressed the down button. Strangely enough, all the buttons with numbers had been completely ripped out. Someone obviously doesn't expect company anytime soon…

Rich was cautious about the whole thing—he didn't like the idea of plummeting to his death after only just getting back to town. However, despite its outward appearance, the elevator worked just fine and it swiftly took them down until Rich was pretty sure they'd passed far below the surface of the city.

Ding.

The doors opened to reveal a dimly lit room, which resembled something like a kitchen. Standing by a coffee machine was a tall, thin man in a white suit. The bad guy version of Alfred? Rich wondered.

"You'll find him in the library, Mr. Stone." The man mumbled, motioning towards a hallway. They really need to get an electrician in here. Vic nodded and followed accordingly, with Rich in tow.

"Mr. Stone?" he whispered.

"Keep your voice down, man. And stay close."

It wasn't long before they reached another dark room, but definitely the largest so far. Every wall was covered in bookshelves, save for one which sported an intricate system of computers. In the corner, sitting on what looked to be a very expensive couch, was another man. He was fairly tall, thin, but not frail, with white hair and an eye patch. How cliché can this get?

"Ah, Cyborg. You know I was expecting you much earlier—and oh my. I see the prodigal son has returned." That voice…I know that voice.

"I…know you?" Rich asked, not quite certain of himself.

"Brilliant, this boy is. They say world travel does something for the mind."

He took another long look at the man, studying his face, trying to remember. However, he didn't recognize his features. How could he know that voice, yet not match it to the face? Unless…

What if he had never seen his face?

"…Slade? When did—but how—I never—what the hell is going on here?"

"Calm yourself, Robin—or is it Nightwing now? It's hard when you don't keep in touch," Slade chuckled, leaning against the arm of his chair, "I don't intend to cause you any harm."

"With all due respect, I've heard that before." Rich hissed.

"I'm sure you have, but I don't exactly—oh, how would you put it—I don't do fighting anymore. I've retired. When the only 'friend' you got who's still active is Lex Luthor, you have to reconsider your options."

"You quit because you couldn't pawn work off of your 'friends' anymore?"

He sighed, "Robin, with age comes perspective, and with perspective comes either madness or enlightenment. So, I cut out the middle man and retired."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"You're a paranoid and sometimes violent workaholic with a tendency for ruthlessness and bad puns. You do the math."

Vic decided it was time to intervene. "So, you said that you had something on Raven?"

"Well, I'm not really sure what to call it. A friend of mine in the Underground claims he saw her about a week ago near the ninth district." The elder replied.

"A week ago? And you're just bringing this to us now?"

"He was recently released from Zartalca." [zarr-tall-kuh, ain't I helpful?]

"Zartalca?" Rich asked.

"It's 'Alcatraz' spelled backwards. It's basically like the Underground's version of a prison, only for those who have broken 'the code'." Vic explained.

Slade scoffed, "The code. It's just a bunch of silly rules to try and keep the weak ones in line."

"Since when do villains need rules?" Rich snorted.

"As you get older, you learn that not every question has an answer, Robin." His ex-nemesis replied.

"Just how old are you?"

"See? You're getting the hang of it already."

Vic sighed, "Are you sure it was Raven he saw?"

"Down to the last purple hair on her head, but I have a feeling she wouldn't stay down there for very long."

"And why is that?" rich asked, glowering at the man.

Slade narrowed his eyes, in the way that only he could. "A hero, even a retired one, wandering the Underground is like walking into a shooting gallery with a target strapped to your chest: dangerous, stupid, and it would be a miracle for you to survive. If Raven has any clue where she was, she would know to get out. She's probably surfaced by now."

"And do you have any idea where?"

"I just answer phone calls and occasionally check the monitor. I'm not psychic. You know her—just think."

And with that, the tin man and the bird flew the coo-coo's nest.


'My senses tell me I have changed, but one thing still remains:
I'm torn and the hate's still aching.
I slowly start to realize we won't reunite.
I still have to march on through.

I dream of a stairway to the skies.
My angel is coming down from heaven to take me.
I reach out but then you fade away.
Whenever you call for me, know that I'm only one step behind…'

I stretched my legs once I finally had the chance. I'd been running for hours now, maybe even a day. I didn't know. It was always so dark in the sewers.

Why I left my night vision goggles at home, I'll never know. I thought as I pursed my lips.

Rumor had it wonder boy was back in town, which only meant trouble for me. He would want to help me the minute he found me—and with him, I knew they would find me. It was only a matter of time.

I didn't mean to cause trouble or hurt any of my friends. I really didn't. It was just that the situation became very complicated very quickly. And it was about more than just a power struggle, this was a kind of quest. However, when or if I ever came back I hoped that I wouldn't find anyone sporting my old uniform.

I shivered at the thought of Beastboy in black spandex.

I had checked up on them every so often as the years passed. I'd watched as the Titans East officially moved into the tower, when Bee nearly ripped Speedy's head off for trying to take Robin's room. I'd been there for Mumbo's retirement party, and for Dr. Light's commitment—committing? Is that even a term?

For so long, I'd wanted to reach out and ask for help, but this was something I had to face alone. No one knew her better than I did. Of course, no one knew me better than she did. It was a stalemate until one of us could get the upper hand.

And I wouldn't stop until I did.


So that's it. I'm sorry about the random lyrics insert, I've had this song stuck in my head ALL DAY. It's 'Stairway to the Skies' by Within Temptation, my favorite band of all time. Go listen to them.

R2Rs (responses to reviews):

RxRFannnn: I'll try to keep 'em comin'. No guarentees.

TheDreamChaser: Why thank you! Glad to know it's worth it for you! You know, I usually don't like these kinds of stories, but this one kind of clicks for me.

MysteryGirl2401: Well, there I gave you a bit about Raven. I'm not ready to reveal everything about what's going on with her yet so you'll have to be patient still.

The Pigeon One: The truth is I kind of figure this out as I go, sometimes I'll write bits down in my notebooks so I don't forget them. And thanks for the bit about my writing and the characterizations. Also, I wasn't aware about the comic bits until I'd written it out. Or just this moment. On the note of Roy's hair, I have an odd sense of humor. I find it hard not to laugh at my own jokes even when no one else is, so it's nice to know someone else is laughing with me.

So R&R please! And I'll get cracking as soon as I can. 'Cause I have no idea where to go from here. Tips? Help anyone? I'm serious. HELP!