TRANSITION
(My universe and the DC universe have what you might call a hyperbolic relationship. That is, they approach to an infinitesimal distance, but never actually touch. Their stuff isn't mine, and mine isn't theirs. -Concolor44)
CHAPTER 10
Earth … a Friday night in July … twelve weeks after the Transition Event …
It was raining. Again.
The day had turned out much like the several that preceded it (i.e.: it sucked ass). The flip side of the Transition Event's effects – the rise in insanity – was taking a nasty turn recently and all Robin had wanted at the end of this day was a shower and some snuggle time with Kori. But it was not to be.
Instead, he stood before the huge window that fronted the common room in Titan's Tower, hands clasped stiffly at the small of his back, staring out through the falling gray curtain. He wasn't really seeing it, though. He had more pressing things than precipitation on his mind, all of them connected end-to-end on a repeating loop right behind his eyes.
####
The previous Tuesday, three days past, Terra was – once more – on patrol, when a 911 call got diverted to her T-Com. She studied the coordinates briefly, turned left, and streaked down toward a residential section of Jump City, coming to a shuddering halt in front of a day-care center. Three women immediately ran over to her, one wailing, one sobbing, and one looking very determined. That one said, "Jeanne Marie is inside with the kids. She's gone off her nut, and says she's gonna kill 'em all."
"Whoa! Who's Jeanne Marie?"
"The other staffer. She tricked us and locked us out. The police are supposed to be on the way, but I'm afraid they'll be too late …" She was addressing empty air. Terra had swooped over to the school, her rocky armor crawling into place around her.
She zipped around the building, looking in the windows, and quickly located the deranged woman in the small cafeteria. Terra's hackles sprang erect immediately. It looked like she had taken apart a few cribs and arranged the slatted sides in a horizontal grid over a big pile of paper, cardboard boxes, and pieces of splintered wood (probably what was left of the cribs). A good dozen small children, the oldest of which couldn't have been more than four, were trussed up like roasting hens and laid out on top of the grid. Jeanne Marie, who appeared to be a fairly young blond woman, was off to one side, doing something with some bottles that Terra couldn't quite see.
The building was made of brick, so she simply unzipped the wall and floated through. The unzipping was very loud, though, and the crazy woman spun around, a large bottle in one hand. When she caught sight of Terra, she screamed, "Monsters! They've all got monsters! Monsters in their heads! They have to be killed! You have to help me! You whack off the heads, and I'll burn 'em!"
Terra was stunned for a second: Jeanne Marie closely resembled her! Certainly no more than five or ten years Terra's senior, her hair was the same color and about the same length, her eyes and face eerily similar. It was like looking into a fun-house mirror, except to Terra this was nothing like fun. Finally recognizing the object that Jeanne Marie held as a Molotov cocktail, Terra instantly positioned herself between the bomb and the children. "Lady, you need to put that down and head on outside. Some nice men will be along soon, and they'll help you, okay?"
"No! It'll be too late!" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh, tricksy-tricksy! You're one of them!" She flicked a lighter that Terra hadn't noticed, lit the bomb, and threw it at the geomancer. The bottle broke against Terra's hastily-erected shield of Aloxyn, but the heat and the fire made it hard to see. A second bottle shattered on her before she got Jeanne Marie's position pinpointed, but then it was a very simple matter to wrap her up in some of the excess earthen material she'd brought in with her. Terra used what she had left then – primarily her armor – to contain the fire before the building became an inferno, and turned her attention to the children. She concentrated, bringing in some more earth from outside, and used it to pick up the kids and float them out through the hole she'd made. Some of them screamed bloody murder the whole time, but then they'd been doing that when she got there. The three women outside ran over and received the terrified children. Terra handed each of them a stone knife, and they got busy cutting the kids' bonds.
Terra trotted back over to the building and stuck her head in the hole in the wall. "Okay, ma'am, I think we can …" She gasped. Jeanne Marie was draining the dregs of one of the bottles, having somehow worked her left arm free. She'd just been able to reach the nearest Molotov cocktail, and drank the whole thing. Her eyes watering fiercely, she rasped out, "Hah! Tricked … you! Never get … me … alive." It was at that exact instant that Terra noticed the engagement ring she wore.
"No!" Terra sprang forward, jerking the woman with her and racing outside. The police had arrived and were spilling out of their squad cars, and she could just hear the wail of the EMTs approaching. She laid Jeanne Marie on the ground and yelled to the other women.
Nine minutes later she watched as the ambulance roared off toward the hospital. Jeanne Marie was on full life-support, and the grim looks on the Techs' faces hadn't given Terra much hope. She felt a tug on her hand and looked down into the deep brown eyes of a little boy. Kneeling, she said, "Yes?"
"A' 'ou a Tit'n?"
"… Yes." Then, more firmly, "Yes, I am. My name's Terra. What's yours?"
"Timmy. Tan 'ou fwy?"
"Well, yeah, sorta. I can make rocks fly and then ride 'em."
"Is Miz Dzeanne Mawie gon' be otay?"
Terra froze. She just stared at the boy, silent.
"Miz Tewwa, is Miz Dzeanne Mawie gon' be otay?"
The Titan slowly stood, called a quantity of earth to her, jumped on it, and sped off toward the hospital at nearly three hundred kilometers per hour. She beat the ambulance there by a good four minutes, and waited unobtrusively by the Emergency Room door.
When the ambulance pulled into the bay, it had its lights going, but not the siren. The doors opened, but not all that quickly, and the EMTs stepped down to the pavement rather than jumping out. They spoke to one another in subdued tones, but they didn't pull the gurney out, and they didn't rush it into the hospital. Rigidly, Terra walked over to them. One of them noticed her, his eyes widening. Standing a little straighter, he said, "Terra! Wow. You got here fast."
"How is she?"
"Ah … well … I'm sorry. She didn't make it. She drank nearly a liter of gasoline, and from the smell there were some other things in it, too. Um … technically, she was dead when we found her. Pumping her stomach didn't help. That stuff gets into your system really fast and …"
Terra wasn't listening to him anymore. She whispered, "Even when I get there in time. I'm useless."
"… Uh … Excuse me?"
"They die. Even when I get there in time, they die. They're always gonna die."
He nodded. "I know exactly how you feel. Every day I … um, miss? Terra?"
Paying him not the least bit of attention, she called her earthen platform to her, stepped on it, and rose straight up for a couple hundred meters before shooting off in the direction of Titan's Tower.
Terra had been locked in her room ever since. She refused to come out.
####
Two days ago, on Wednesday, Starfire was patrolling at the seashore. Since Terra was out of action for the time being, she had resolved to take the geomancer's place as primary protector of the city. Crime was still at a hundred-year lull, but the incident at the day-care center was just one of a string of disturbing examples of insane weirdness. Most of them hadn't been of the life-threatening variety that had so shaken Terra, but that didn't mean they could be ignored, either. Besides, this made the alien princess feel useful, and she desperately needed that just now.
The day had been peaceful, essentially unmarred by danger or ill will of any sort, and she was taking long, slow loops over the beach, stitching together the water and the land with her flight path. Many people waved to her, called her name, and the happy greetings lifted her sagging spirits. Perhaps I cannot do anything for dear Raven, but that does not mean I cannot do anything! She was debating with herself the pros and cons of taking her patrol into the City proper when she noticed the speedboat.
He'd been out in the deep water, but now was aimed straight at the beach, and must have been doing at least a hundred klicks. Frowning, Starfire watched for only a second or so before deciding that this situation needed her attention. Leaving a glowing trail in the sky, she streaked down toward the boat.
When she got close enough to see the face of the man driving, her frown deepened. His eyes were wide and glazed, and his lips pulled back in a death's-head rictus, the tendons in his neck standing out in stark bas-relief. She matched the speed of his boat, and called to him. "Sir! Please stop your boat! You are approaching the area of designated swim!"
If he heard her, he gave no sign.
Starfire looked ahead. They'd be in the swimming zone in seconds, and it was packed with kids. Realizing that there was something seriously wrong with this man, she took matters into her own hands. Veering away from the boat for the space of several meters, she flew back around and hit it at the bow, knocking the boat around so that it pointed south, and ran parallel to the beach.
Her initial strike and the sudden change of course had knocked the man off his feet. When he staggered back up, he screamed, "Bitch! I'll kill you for that!"
Starfire glanced up at him and gasped. She was staring up the business end of the biggest long gun she'd ever seen. It was a double-barrel "four-bore" big game rifle, and was designed to take down elephants or cape buffalo with one shot. It would have hurt a lot, had it hit her. But before he could pull the trigger, she gave the bow another hard nudge. The man lost his balance, wind-milled his arms, and the heavy rifle dropped over the side.
His scream was long, and agonizing. He gripped the railing, staring wildly into the ocean, and then jumped in after the gun.
Instantly, Starfire pulled up to see if she could help him, but as soon as she did, the boat pulled a long turn back toward the way it had come. Her head swiveled between the man and the boat several times. The boat was once more aimed at the swimmers. The driver had on a life vest, and didn't seem to be in any real trouble. The boat would be back in the danger zone in not that many seconds. The driver was a good half-klick from shore, and wouldn't be going anywhere …
She streaked off after the boat. Landing in it, she took the wheel and steered it back toward open water, then killed the engine. Once she was sure it wouldn't soon drift into somewhere it shouldn't be, she zoomed back to where she'd left the driver.
He spotted her soon enough and screamed some more. "Bitch! Fuckin' sorry bitch! That was my grand-daddy's rifle!"
Floating some four meters above him, she stated, "Sir, I will now take you to the station of police. If you require further assistance in health of mind, they will be able …" Then she had to dodge. He had pulled out a semi-automatic pistol and was firing at her.
She streaked up to about thirty meters distant and watched him carefully, dodging his shots, and counting them. When the reports stopped, and she heard the weapon go 'click' instead, she dropped back down to where he was. He hurled invective at her the entire time, cursing with a creativity and vehemence that would have made the toughest Marine drill sergeant blush with envy.
"Sir, if I need to incapacitate you for transportation, I will do so. You do not need to be harming yourself in this way." And she floated to within a meter or so …
… and had to yank back when he took a swipe at her with a long, wicked knife. "No! You'll never take me! Stay back, you and your brain worms!"
Star's face was the very picture of confusion. "Worms? What are 'brain worms'? I have not heard of these."
He screamed again. "Your face! I can see 'em in your face! You got the brain worms!" And then while a very puzzled Starfire put a tentative hand against her cheek, he quickly sliced through the straps on his floatation device, and then dove straight down.
"Sir! Sir! Please come back to the surface! You will not be able to breathe if you remain under the water!" She stayed there for a minute, calling to him, waiting for him to come back up, but he didn't. The water was very murky, and she didn't want to chance trying to find him when she couldn't see more than a meter or two. Just when she was about to take the plunge anyway, she noticed something float to the surface a couple dozen meters away, and flew over in relief. "Thank you for coming back up, sir! I will take you to the hospital now." But then she saw that he was floating face-down, and that the water around his head was tinged red. With growing unease, she got a grip on the back of his shirt and pulled him from the water.
He had cut his own throat.
Much later, after talking with the police and the coroner, Starfire called Cyborg and asked if he would come over to the beach and pick her up in the T-Car. He was glad to do it, but concerned as to why she didn't just fly. Her answer ("I do not feel like flying.") gave him seriously to pause. She was silent on the trip back to the Tower, and went directly to her room once they got there.
She'd been uncharacteristically silent at supper as well, and had retired early. Robin grilled Cyborg about it, gleaning all the metal man knew (which wasn't much) and then combing the city's records for the day until he found the incident in question. So. A suicide. Second in two days my team's been involved with. This is a pattern I don't like. But he decided to give Star her space, and let her work it out at her own pace. Around midnight he wrapped up his paperwork, took a quick shower, and hit the sack.
####
About two in the morning, his door swooshed quietly open, which brought him instantly awake. As he was facing the door, he could just make out his girl-friend's silhouette as she stood there. "Star?" He sat up. "What's wrong?"
She stepped in and closed the door, tripping the lock mechanism, and then strode over to his bed. He could see that she had on a short robe or coat, and was barefoot.
"Star? You okay?"
Shrugging out of her covering, she stood before him, naked, and said, "We will do the mating now."
"What?"
She pulled the covers aside and slid in next to him. "The mating. Also called the making of love. We will do this now."
It most assuredly wasn't as if he hadn't thought of this. A lot. Yes, they loved each other. They'd been open about that for close to a year, and the rest of the team thought they were deadly cute. But aside from some heavy petting, they'd maintained that final boundary of intimacy. They had discussed the possibility of marriage at some point down the road, and at the time she seemed quite content to wait. Tonight, though, her body was primed and hot, her need obvious and urgent. "Star … are you sure about this?"
Her eyes widened in trepidation. "Do you not love me, Richard?"
"Oh, Star!" He wrapped his arm around her waist, the touch of her soft skin sliding over muscles that felt like titanium cable sending electricity racing along his body. "You know I love you! I just thought …"
"Please, Richard, do not think. Only do." And she kissed him deeply.
His protests evaporated like snowflakes in the furnace of her desire. She was, after all, just about the hottest girl on the planet, human or otherwise; and he was, in certain respects, a very typical nineteen-year-old guy.
She made savage love to him until shortly before dawn, leaving him exhausted and barely coherent, and had made herself quite scarce ever since.
####
Yesterday had brought another pair of truly hideous and very public suicides. Robin had been early on the scene both times.
In the first instance, Robin was patrolling on his cycle when he got a call that a guy had broken into a chemical plant. It wasn't far, and he screeched to a halt at the plant entrance in under a minute. Several dozen workers were milling around in the parking lot, talking excitedly. Jerking off his helmet, he called to the security guard, who frantically motioned him over to the door.
"Robin! Thank God! Maybe you can get this guy down."
The Titan noticed that the guard's nametag read 'James Walters'. "Maybe. What's the op-sit?"
"That guy," and here he pointed at one of the dozen or so monitors in the security office, "used to work here. Name's Hyram Bonner. I thought we deactivated his badge, but he got in somehow. Cold-cocked my partner and broke into the secure area in the cracking facility."
Robin studied the image. The man was sitting at the top of one of the many reaction vessels in the secure section of the plant. He had opened a hatch and was sitting on its lip, and looked for all the world like he was singing. He asked about that.
"Yeah, he started with the Star Spangled Banner, then sang an old Marty Robbins ballad, and now he's doing a Vanessa Carlton song." The guard turned a knob and suddenly the man's tinny voice came in over a speaker. He turned it back down.
Robin glanced at him. "You listen to Vanessa Carlton? You don't look the type."
"My daughter listens to her. I just recognize it."
He nodded. "What's my quickest way back to where he is?"
"You go straight through the middle of the plant, and hang a right at …"
The door banged open. "At nowhere. I'm sorry, Robin, but I can't allow you in there."
Robin and the guard both jerked around and looked at the man who stood in the door. The guard gasped and said, "Mr. Belvedere!"
The Titan's eyes narrowed. "And you would be?"
"Macmillan Belvedere. I'm the president of Price-Tanra Chemicals. We have a program for handling things like this, and our special response team is on its way."
Robin digested that for a couple of seconds and turned to the guard. "Can you zoom in on Mr. Bonner?"
The guard fiddled with a couple of knobs, and the man's face jumped up to fill maybe a fifth of the screen. "Best I can do with this equipment."
"That's fine, sir." He turned back to Mr. Belvedere, who was also studying the monitor. He noticed at that point three black vehicles pulling up to the front of the building. The company president followed his gaze and nodded to himself. "And there they are."
A dozen men piled out of the cars, all wearing riot gear and carrying Plexiglas shields. Two of them had sniper rifles. Robin stared at them askance. "You intend to shoot him?"
"Not at all. That is only a last resort, in case he is armed and offers to harm the team."
"Don't you think the Jump City SWAT team would be a better force to use here?"
"They aren't trained in how to deal with the various chemicals they might find in here. My team is. Besides, one of the snipers is former SWAT himself."
"Former? Why former? He get kicked off SWAT?"
"No. I pay better. He's got two kids in college."
Robin couldn't say much to that. Turning back to the monitor, he asked, "What sorts of chemicals are in that tower he's sitting on?"
Mr. Belvedere was watching in satisfaction as his response team entered the building, but he answered, distractedly, "Chemicals? Could be most anything. We make …" Then he turned and frowned. "Jim, where is he?"
"Section four, Mr. B."
The president turned pale. "Exactly where in section four?"
The guard adjusted the view again, pulling out to get a look at the tower in question. "Looks like tower 4-B14."
Mr. Belvedere whispered, "Holy shit." He jumped over to the guard's console and grabbed the microphone. "Response team, this is Macmillan Belvedere! Pull out! There is a strong possibility of a serious fire, and maybe an explosion. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT enter the secure area! Do not fire on the trespasser!"
Robin, suddenly very apprehensive, asked, "What is in that tower?"
Mr. Belvedere looked around at him, and Robin could see the sweat across his high forehead. "A very unstable asymmetric alkene. It can spontaneously combust in air if it gets hot enough."
"By 'very unstable', do you also mean 'very reactive'?"
"Very, very."
"Sir, you have to let me in there! I can get close enough to him to immobilize him and get him off the tower so that your men can go in and secure it!"
"I …" Robin could tell he was deeply torn. "I can't! It's company policy, and it's been decided at the highest levels! We even got approval from OSHA, the Jump City Safety Council, FEMA, and the FDA for our response plan!"
"So your official response is … no response at all? That's senseless!"
"It's the safest way in a situation like this. We can't endanger …"
"Sir, with all due respect, my training and abilities trump those precautions. I can have him contained and out of there in five minutes, tops."
"But I can't risk that you might get hurt!"
That exasperated Robin. "Sir, what do you think I do as a life-work? I put myself in harm's way; been doing it for seven years full-time. I'm very, very good at taking care of myself."
"You think I don't know that? But the 'who' isn't important. The plan says no one goes in, and I have to abide by that!"
Robin fumed. "I'd already be there by now if you'd just let me go to begin with, and the situation would be contained. He's just sitting there, singing!"
"Mr. B?" the guard called.
"What?"
"He's done stood up."
They crowded around the monitor while the guard turned the sound back up. It was true, Mr. Bonner was teetering on the edge of the hatch, his arms wide, belting out the last stanza of an old Elvis song. As soon as he finished, he pulled out a cigarette. Mr. Belvedere said, "Oh, God, no!"
Hyram Bonner took a few puffs, holding the lighter in one hand, then he gave a brief soliloquy about why the world was a bad place, and that it should be destroyed. Then he re-positioned himself so that he straddled the opening, flicked open the lighter – an old Zippo model, Robin noted – struck it to life, and dropped it into the hatch.
Robin and Mr. Belvedere both gasped. There was a roar, and then a blue-hot column of flame soared out of the hatch, instantly engulfing Mr. Bonner. Fortunately, the solvent fumes were significantly heavier than air, so oxygen infiltration into the tower was minimal and there was no explosion; but it made for a very impressive blow-torch. The column of fire was visible for nearly a kilometer in all directions. A few smoldering pieces of the former employee slid down the side of the tower and thumped onto the concrete. Mr. Belvedere turned away, green-faced.
Robin muttered, "So much for your policy," and stalked out to his motorcycle.
####
Robin's second suicide of the day was in the parking lot in front of a Big Box store, methodically going down the rows of cars and smashing in each rear passenger-side window with a small sledgehammer. He was obviously wearing a bomb, and carrying a dead-man switch in his off hand. Robin tried to talk him down, and barely managed to avoid serious injury when the man detonated the half-kilo of C4 he had strapped to his waist, reducing the nearest cars to smoking shrapnel. As it was, Robin would be sore for at least a couple of days, and wouldn't be using his left hand very well for a week. At least no one else had been hurt, and he tried to take some encouragement from that.
The day had, indeed, sucked in every important aspect. It wasn't going to get any better.
Today, Friday, he had spent the morning doing research, finding out as much as he could about the trends of the rising wave of insanity, and the results did little to comfort him. There were signs that this might just be a shadow of the enormity to come. He had typed up a report of his concerns and forwarded it to the Jump City police, the county sheriff, the fire department, all the local hospitals, and several other institutions that he thought might be able to use the information. He sent a short synopsis of his report to the Watchtower, flagged for the attention of Doctor Fate. Then he went looking for Starfire.
What he had really wanted was to talk about their relationship, to find out where she thought it was going. Her actions of two nights previous had been wildly out of character. Not that he minded, not in the least. But that made her behavior ever since all the more puzzling. He'd seen her exactly once, at supper on Thursday, and she'd said not five words the whole meal, then excused herself and flew off. She'd not been in the Tower since then, as far as he knew. She wouldn't answer her T-Com either, but seemed to still be carrying it. He tracked her movements automatically, just as the system tracked all of them. It was a reasonable precaution, and one that had saved their lives more than once.
She'd spent the morning out of town, up the coast at a NASA installation. He wondered about that a LOT. What could she possibly want with the government's space program? He hoped he'd get the chance to ask her soon. According to the computer, she was on her way back to the Tower now, and should arrive in the next twenty minutes. Glancing at the nearest clock, he figured she was planning to be here for lunch. That would be good. They could talk.
He was in the common room when she arrived, and he perked up when he spotted her lovely face. She had a smile on, the first one in over a week. He rose and met her halfway. "Star! I'm glad you're back!"
"As am I, my love."
His knees went slightly weak for just an instant when he heard that. She'd never called him that before. He took it as an excellent sign. "Okay … listen, Star, can we talk? I've been wanting to talk about … well, about us, ever since Wednesday night, and you've been kind of not-here."
"I am sorry, dear Richard." She stepped forward and embraced him gently, which he returned enthusiastically. "I have been making preparations for travel."
That shot a cold chill down his back. He leaned away from her, cocked an eyebrow in that peculiar fashion of his, and said, "Travel? Travel to where?"
"To Tamaran."
The chill firmed up into an Arctic blizzard. He had to drag his next breath in against its will. "Tamaran? But … I thought your sister …"
"Yes. I am exile, by her decree as the planet ruler."
"But … Star! Why?"
"I am … I have been … unwell." She turned from him and took a couple of steps, crossing her arms. "I have been shown to be … ineffective … in my role as a Titan."
"Ineffective? How in the world do you come to that conclu…"
"I have spent much time in thought over this. It is not a good thing for a Tamaranian to demonstrate weakness, and that is true especially for one of royal blood." Her voice was soft, but very determined. "I have found a way in which I can be useful." She turned back to face him. "On Tamaran there is a scientist. He is an expert in Transition Events. I will go there and find him, and bring him back here. Thus, he may aid us in finding dear Raven and restoring her to her place with us."
Robin's throat was trying to cut off his air. His arms felt like lead. "But … didn't Komand'r say … if you came back, you were … to be …"
"Yes, Richard." She came back over to him, took his face in her two hands, and kissed him softly. "That is what she said. But she need not discover that I am there. She has much work to do as ruler. She is planning a voyage very soon to the star system of one of our oldest allies. It is not likely that she will be on Tamaran while I am there in my search." Glancing away from him and sighing, she said, "My biggest problem will be staying hidden from those who wish to place me on the throne in her stead."
Robin couldn't dredge up anything coherent to say. His blood felt thick, his mind fuzzy.
"I do not wish to challenge her. Komand'r is not … doing a bad job as Queen of Tamaran." She nibbled on her lower lip briefly. "The planet is prosperous enough, the people happy enough, and she did restore our military position in that sector."
"But … Star … if they find you …"
"No one will find me, my love." She kissed him again, then backed away. "I leave now to fly up to the Watchtower. In six hours a ship is leaving to travel to Deccom. From there I will take another ship directly to Tamaran. The trip is not long, no more than two or three weeks. Tamaran is, after all, not even three hundred light years away. I should be back in a month, surely only six weeks at the most."
"… Star? Please!"
"I am sorry. You must understand. I cannot … live with myself … if I do not do this for our dear friend, Raven. Everyone is doing something, everyone is so intense, so busy being useful. I must be useful as well." She floated over to the door, gave him a last hopeful look, and left.
####
And now she was gone. Robin glanced at his chronometer, noting the time. The star cruiser would be pulling away from the Watchtower in less than two minutes. He closed his eyes and whispered, "God, I know we don't talk much. I've got my job to do, and you've got yours. But if you don't mind … if you can spare the time … please, please, please bring her back. She's the best, sweetest, most noble creature you ever made. My life is hers. I can't make it without her." He drew several deep breaths, and opened his still-dry eyes, watching as the seconds ticked by. The departure time came and went. The rain still fell outside, a sodden veil over his world.
He stood there, not really seeing it, until night claimed the land.
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Okay, time for some Author's End Notes.
First off, a HUGE shout-out to my reviewers! I love you guys! Your comments make me redder'n a radish, as they say hereabouts. ;-D
Destroyahirirsmix666, I received your PM and am working on a reply. It was very interesting.
Rest for the wicked, I hope you got my reply. Also, I have the story planned out to the end, and I will finish it. Fear not.
For anyone who is confused by what happened to the Interlude, I moved it to my Profile page. Putting it here was, I learned, a no-no.
And next time … we get a little more insight into the nature of love via our beloved Raven and Jinx. Stay tuned.