Chapter 10

Authors Notes: Big thanks to Black Mage for his work in editing and beta reading the document. Enjoy the story people.I'm being careful to avoid some Mary Sue/Gary Stu type situation,as I hate those sort of stories,but its a long story in which the actions of Raven, Robin and the Titans are intimately tied with the OC.As well, there is some tie-in with the Justice League/JLU later on. Most of this is based largely on a mixture of comics canon, the animated series and my own work.Enjoy. If anyone is interested in doing some fanart,feel free to drop me a line.

Joke of Despair Part 1

Raven rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration, almost at the point of anger. In the past four weeks, the integration of the Black Tiger into the Titans had been anything but smooth.

His interactions with her were always tinged with a reverence bordering on religious fervour. He was overtly enigmatic, not revealing much about his past. In a way, she felt he was a kindred spirit, matching her intense desire for privacy. The earlier aura of peril he had was gone, hidden beneath an indifferent veneer.

In its place was a stoic, indifferent individual who watched with piercing eyes; cold and aloof with brief moments of warmth to ease communication at times, or when he felt it required reciprocation. Still, the memory of the earlier experiences and impressions lingered. He was keeping his distance from all of them.

Somehow, he had ended up joining the girls in meditation, often simply sitting on the floor, while the girls levitated, engaged in a companionable and tranquil silence that he seemingly enjoyed.

However, his interactions with Robin were anything but peaceful, at least from Robin's end. He got along well enough with Cyborg, often acting more mature than he seemed. He possessed a hard coil of maturity that shocked them, if anything.

He surprisingly got along with Beast Boy, laughing at his jokes and even engaging in stank-ball, and his patience was otherworldly, merely shrugging off even the worst pranks that Beast Boy played on him. And even if the pranks did get their target, he simply accepted it. However, when it had come to training, Robin's competitive nature knew no bounds.

Robin, rigorously trained by Batman in both combat and non-combat disciplines, himself one of the finest martial artists par excellence in the world, possibly matched or exceeded only by the Bronze Tiger, Richard Dragon and Lady Shiva, was an expert Escrima fighter, as well as a master in aikido, though he had learnt numerous other martial disciplines, namely Kyokushin Karate, Hapkido, Tai Chi, Muay Thai and Judo. For his age, he was an incredibly dangerous opponent, and his skills combined with his acrobatic agility and ability to perform a quadruple somersault, one of only 3 people known to do so, as well as possessing peak athletic strength, stamina, agility and endurance for his age, synergised to make him an opponent few could match, and allowed him to punch well above his weight.

He'd been able to hold out for a limited time against Deathstroke, himself a veteran assassin and master combatant who had defeated even Batman in unarmed combat, by virtue of his enhanced physical prowess. As for his mental skills, he was a proficient linguist, having had the finest education as Bruce Wayne's ward, speaking with fluency in English, French, Spanish, Russian, Japanese, Mandarin and Cantonese, and some knowledge of Romany and the alien language of Tamaran. He was also a brilliant and experienced strategist with superlative leadership skills, the Titans many victories and their commitment to him a testament to them.

The Black Tiger was a mystery, as enigmatic as they came. From what he had disclosed, and what they had seen, he was a powerful combatant able to take on multiple opponents numbering up to twenty simultaneously, either unarmed or with a variety of weapons. He was capable of controlling his autonomic and physiological functions, as well as his internal biochemistry.

His physiology was tuned to be extremely efficient, with a resting heart rate of 42, a display of just how physically fit he was, with agility and acrobatic ability on par with Robin, and he'd exhibited the skills of a mental calculator similar to Alexander Craig Aitken as well as a highly photographic memory, with fluency in Farsi, French, Urdu, Mandarin, Hokkien, Cantonese, Hindi, Malay, Spanish, Portuguese, Russian, Tagalog and Thai, those which he had chosen to disclose. Similarly, his reaction time was in the range of milliseconds, the slowest time they'd recorded being 20 milliseconds or 0.002 seconds, the human average time being 0.2 seconds, as well as an aggregate speed well over the human norm, clocked at 30 metres/second at one point, with an ability to boost himself to higher speeds of 106 m/s for short periods.

His personal fighting style was fluid, adaptable and practical, compared to the dynamic, airborne style evinced by Robin. His own style displayed dashes of Tukong Moosul, Krav Maga, Hapkido and Lethwei with other martial styles, blending them in a fast, evasive style that favoured distances, with vicious kicks from a distance and powerful knee strikes and throws at close quarters. This, combined with an extreme pain threshold, made him a horrifically powerful opponent.

One thing Cyborg knew was that he was holding back, both mentally and physically, as a conscious action, judging by the actions he'd taken, which Raven had agreed with. She couldn't help but sense there was more to him than just that, what he displayed. He was an ocean, and there was an abyss concealed within.

If anything, he was infuriating, patient, enigmatic, cold and aloof but otherwise just unfathomable. And a damned good masseuse, hers and Starfire's pleasantly sore backs a credit to his skill. As he had said, he would follow her orders within reason, and the scope of reason was rather wide.

Right now, it was midnight, and everyone was asleep, except her, and perhaps Aziz. While he had his own room, Aziz had at first insisted on staying outside of her room at night, often in a meditative pose in the corridor. Either he didn't sleep, or slept very little. She wasn't sure. Eventually, she had tired of it and had been on the verge of forcing him back to his room and locking him in, before a compromise solution had finally been reached.

The end result had been that she was now sleeping with a gun loaded with rubber bullets underneath her pillow along with a can of Mace, while Aziz made circuitous patrols of the entire tower while everyone slept, specifically passing her room on every route. She wound find out why, and what his mission was. Still, the compromise had been worth it. She could now walk around without him constantly shadowing her.

Shrugging off the thoughts, she sought the release of sleep.

WWW

Starfire snuggled further into the warmth beside her, placing her head at the crook of his neck. A hand rubbed small circles at the small of her back, causing her to arch occasionally with pleasure. She moved her head before settling it on his shoulder. He was so warm. She placed her leg over his, placing a feather light kiss on his forehead. He's mine.

Robin held her closely, breathing in her delicious scent. She was beautiful in every single way. He felt happy with her, content. He felt the curves of her body, felt the rise and fall of her breasts, in rhythm with her heart, its slow beating a balm to his nerves. She's mine.

It went against everything that Bruce had taught him, but tonight, Dick was happy. He had a girlfriend, a companion to share with him his trials as well as her own. He wasn't alone to face the world as an individual. He was part of something better than that. He could share with her the simple pleasures, as she did for him.

Honestly, it just felt comfortable to him. Even with Barbara, it had never really reached this level. A lot of firsts had been with her; the first kiss, the first dance. With Starfire, it was different. She was just so vital and alive. She made him feel alive, causing a fire to burn within. She was as the embodiment of his enthusiasm; the well from which his exuberance sprang. They shared a mental intimacy, talking about all sorts of things, from politics and philosophy to how a grunt from Gar qualified as profound thoughts. To put it simply, he was comfortable with her.

He knew he was lucky. Many men never found a partner they could be comfortable with at different levels. Most important though was the fact that Starfire was his friend. They had started as friends, and this was what would keep it going. This was what a relationship was based on. Long after the passion was gone, the intimacy and commitment would always remain, whether physical, mental, emotional or spiritual. He could honestly say that this was love. Acceptance, mutual and non-judgemental, is what he shared in his bond with Starfire. She was not a princess of the blood royal, heir to a planetary throne, nemesis to her sister Blackfire, but simply Starfire. He was not Richard John Grayson, poor rich boy, ward of Bruce Wayne, son of murdered parents, simply Richard Grayson.

She had told him slowly, about her childhood, her time in the royal crèches, the inner politics of the royal court. He in turn had told her about the circus and what it was like to grow up as part of the 'Flying Graysons', acrobats extraordinaire. The little things that made up their relationship, even the mundane, such as eating a meal together, helped to solidify their bond. Even her cooking had gotten slightly better, though but for the grace of god, Aziz somehow sacrificed himself to save them all, his diamond-hard stomach able to absorb even the most horrific of Tamaranian cuisine.

Yet, in the back of his mind, Bruce's lessons always remained. Never form a relationship with a team mate, because it affects the team's dynamics. It affects your objectivity and professionalism. Never form a personal bond beyond friendship, because it always causes trouble. We owe it to the people we protect, and it's a necessary sacrifice. Remember that Dick.

He remembered those lessons too well; had seen the effect it had and was having on Bruce and Selina, Vesper, and now, Diana. He respected Batman, saw him as a father even, but he would never become him… never.

WWW

The training exercise had gone wrong. They were undergoing their Mountain Ranger course, and were at the final phase of the program, where they would finally qualify as mountain warfare specialists and wear the coveted blue badge of the scorpion and mountain. Greater India Mountain Rangers; elite of the elite, the best mountain warfare force on the planet, with more combat experience and history than even the Tenth Mountain Division of the United States Army.

Things had proceeded normally, with the expected hardships of any special forces training. Still, they were warriors born and bred, Commandos of the Malayan Republic Armed Forces, of a martial people used to hardship and struggle. This was nothing. He was Staff Sergeant Aziz Yap Gang Hu, Commando of the First Singapore Commando Brigade and a Guards Commander of the Second Guards Battalion. The blood of a million battles flew in his veins, Israeli, Arab, Persian, Gurkha, Chinese, Maori, Japanese, Korean, Russian and countless others.

He was a qualified Ranger of the Pakistani and Indian armies, he'd trained with the USN SEALs, he'd survived the Russian Spetsnaz and come out on top, first in his cohort, he'd earned the right to wear the SAS maroon beret through blood and sweat. He'd served with the Royal Marines and Firstt Commando of the British Army. He'd served with the Australian SASR, Pakistani SSG, Indian Para-Commandos and PASKAL. This was nothing.

He would not surrender. He would not let his team mates die. At least, he tried to tell himself that. Currently, below him, attached to the rope that joined them all together, one out of five unconscious, the other three in the group climbed up slowly. He was carrying the unconscious one on his back; Third Sergeant Leroy McCallum, A.K.A. Mohammad Ibrahim, or the wee Scottish bastard. One of the funniest people he'd ever met. He'd lived in Johor Bahru, married to a Malay girl. He was the godfather of Leroy's daughter. He was now unconscious, with a major concussion. He would survive. Fucker had a thick skull.

They'd been deployed in teams of five, after enduring the one-man and buddy groupings of previous training. This was the final phase, a test of mental endurance and teamwork. An avalanche of rocks combined with a freak gale had slammed them into the cliff face, knocking them unconscious and causing several concussions and broken limbs. His being in the lead had saved him, but he'd lost all feeling in his right hand. He suspected a torn tendon, perhaps a ligament, along with nerve damage. Swelling indicated a possibility of a broken wrist. Broken, given how it felt. Blood was leaking from his ear, courtesy of the impact. Felt like a train had slammed into him.

The others were in similar straits. They would pull through. A few broken legs, some whiplash injuries; they had been lucky. Aziz had used leverage to maintain a grip, but had taken a hit to the head by rocks weighing as much as a small child. He'd been outside a ledge the others had sheltered beneath. He had to take that position, as there wasn't any space, and he was in the lead.

No clear fluid. Good. Clear fluid meant cerebrospinal fluid meant brain damage. Pain, good; it would keep him alert. Abrasion from the chafing of the backpack… blistering under his armpits and around his shoulders. It was nothing. Keep telling yourself that. Accept the pain.

Oh God, the weight. No. He would pull them through, no matter what. He would save them. They were his comrades, his family. Painfully, he ignored the broken fingers, climbing slowly. The other followed, trying to keep up. They needed to make good speed.

Good. They could reach the checkpoint. It was only two hundred metres up. He radioed ahead, thankful for the rugged equipment. Slowly, he led the way, ignoring the broken fingers of his left hand. Use your elbows. Pain is weakness leaving the body.

The rope was rubbing against the rocks. It had been strained. Indra called out to him. Corporal Indra Sadhan was his protégé, and son of his own mentor, Colonel Hakur Sadhan. He had the blue eyes of his Scandinavian mother. He was officer calibre. He'd end up in OCS. His brother was an Air Force pilot, his sister was a financial manager for Standard Chartered; his ex. Heh. Those were wild times.

Indra was now nearly parallel to him, at his level, lessening the strain on it and him. Just as he raised his arm to gain a better grip, the rope snapped. For a moment, he was suspended in midair. A hand reached out to grab him, the broken fingers of the left hand snapping under the weight, the thumb driving hard into the flesh, before it grabbed the rope, the rope burning the flesh and skin. Indra jerked, blinking, looking at his saviour.

"Get a grip on the fucking rocks!" hissed Aziz, as he pulled it closer. The pain was making him tremble, the muscle fatigue and pain driving into his mind. His shoulder had been wrenched out of position. Brief gasps of pain rang from his mouth. Indra got a grip. Good. Slowly and painfully, they made their way back up.

In the end, they'd pulled through. Each and every single one of them had survived. That incident had earned him his promotion to Master Sergeant. He'd been twenty-seven. He'd joined the military when he'd been sixteen, to pay for his own education and for that of his two sisters and younger brother. Unlike American inspired traditions in his home universe, the age of consent was sixteen and the legal age for drinking was eighteen, within the Malayan Republic, a member of the British Commonwealth. This allowed for a faster maturation and greater depth of experience, in a way, for the youth of his country, though it was relative. The law allowed one to take greater personal responsibility from a younger age.

Now, he was one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two years of chronological age, as measured by human time, but in the guise of a human adolescent body. Sometimes, he felt weary, but always, he persevered. Somehow, he knew he was something more now. What he was, he didn't know, but he had transcended human mortality. Yet, he was reluctant to let go… terrified.

Sitting outside her room, he was half asleep, lapsed into a conscious resting state between sleep and wakefulness. No one would harm her. It was his charge, his chance at redemption, at liberation from this entire mockery that denied him the thing he wished for most; liberation; to see his loved ones, lost through the ages, through time and space… his Sihaya.

The Wellspring of My Soul, he had called her. He had encountered her only thrice, and had lost her each time, having had to kill her himself. He couldn't protect her. To be with her, he would see to Raven's protection.

If it gave him the remotest chance to be free of this cycle of despair, to see those he valued die over and over, to see his friends die, to be separated from the few children of his blood that had been taken from him, to see his mortal lovers pass into oblivion or otherwise, if it allowed for him to truly live, if what Khallusk had told him was true, that the protection of Raven allowed a small chance at this, he would do it. That reason and that reason alone was enough, but there was more to it, and he couldn't figure out what. Something was being concealed from him.

He had encountered many lovers throughout the ages, most women, some hermaphrodites, some men, all different individuals of various orientations and species, human and non-human, but none of them had ever been as precious to him as had been her. She was the only one he had ever given himself to totally and without shame, to be close to her, intimate with her, physically as much as emotionally, spiritually, mentally and psychically.

His eyes widened as he got up and began to patrol again, fluid grace permeating his movement, silent and stealthy against the darkness within the tower. What was even darker was the void within his heart.

WWW

Gar Logan stared at her photo. They'd taken it after watching Wicked Scary together. She'd been smiling at the camera, while he had looked at her, his eyes betraying the emotions he had felt for her, there and then.

In the depths of his heart, he still loved her, but he also carried a torch for another. Raven. Increasingly, he realised he was in a dilemma. What was it that Raven represented to him?She was a team mate, and a close friend, no doubt. He knew some of her vulnerabilities, her secrets. Just like any close friend. So why was he feeling… jealous?

Definitely, he envied Starfire and Robin for their closeness, something that he now lacked. They shared something at a level as deep as what he and Terra had shared.

They'd shared secrets to each other, as they held on to the other in the night, naked beneath the sheets, tired from their love making. She'd told him of how she'd had to survive the streets, of her travels across the world, from the Alps of Europe to the Rockies of North America. Mountains… there had always been mountains. She was a free spirit, and needed the open spaces of the mountains to survive.

He'd told her of his time with the Doom Patrol, the foster family that had raised him, of the loss of his parents. He'd exposed himself to her, made himself vulnerable in a way that allowed her into his heart. Now, she was back. Yet, she didn't want him. She didn't want a relationship with him, like they'd had before.

But time had passed, and both had changed. He somehow felt…drawn to Raven. But what was it about her that drew him to her? He lay down staring at the wall, caught in the web of thoughts.

WWW

Cyborg blinked awake, the silent alarm alerting him to something amiss in the tower. Someone had just entered through the front door of the Tower, using an encrypted code.

The unauthorised entry had used Robin's code to enter, but without following the appropriate rhythm. Robin had a certain rhythm to which he depressed the keys on the pad, a little extra security feature he'd programmed into the access pad. Only Cyborg knew about it.

This meant someone knew Robin's code, but didn't know about that little extra security measure. Red X?

He'd find out. Grabbing his communicator, he sent a silent message to Aziz. If there was something useful to having someone like that stalking the corridors of the tower at this time of the night, it was that extra sense of security that he provided.

Getting up from his tray, he armed his cannon. Just in case. Meanwhile, an alarm was activated in all of the rooms of the Titans members, waking everyone from their slumber.

WWW

As the intruder stepped into the hall, lights came on. He was surrounded. Directly in front of him, Cyborg aimed his arm cannon at him, its muzzle glowing with blue heat. Beside him, a youth dressed in a simple grey vest and black shorts, stared calmly at him, holding a staff in either hand. Robin stood at the side, birdarang out and ready, while flanking him were Starfire and Raven. Beast Boy was with Robin as well, his arms up in a fighting stance. All were alert and ready to fight. Behind him, a large array of guns pointed directly at him.

Slowly, as they realised who stood in front of them, they calmed down, their bodies relaxing from their hostile stance. There was a subtle shift in positions. There was no change in the body language or face of the youth though. He was unrecognised; a new Titan. Swiftly, with liquid grace, he moved to Raven's side, his face unchanged, his body relaxed and neutral, as it had been at the beginning. Starfire, Raven, Beast Boy and Cyborg had awe written into their faces, as they moved, unsure of how to handle their visitor.

Robin, on the other hand, expressed surprise and shock. The sight before him was the person he had last expected to see, one of the reasons why he'd left Gotham in the first place.

"Batman…"

Silence filled the air, before Batman answered in the gravely, deep baritone voice that separated his persona from Bruce Wayne. "Robin, the Joker is here."

WWW

In the abandoned fortress, the Alip Guardsman slowly and carefully removed the final alarm, as Ascanio Rosa entered the cryogenic chamber that contained the imprisoned personnel of the Brotherhood of Evil. The work done by the Titans in securing the facility had been tremendous, and of high quality. It had taken 3 weeks longer than expected to clear the facility of alarms.

As he stared at row upon row of cryogenically frozen villains, a small smile twisted on his face. Absolutely pathetic. With the Society of Ahriman directing their actions, things would change. Beside him, an envoy from the League of Assassins, loyalist followers of Ras Al Ghul, watched in awe, as the process of reviving the frozen criminals began. They would be processed and given a choice. If not cooperative, they would be allowed to go free, but some key personnel such as the 'Brain', and the genetically engineered gorilla, Monsieur Mallah, were to be debriefed. The Brotherhood would be reorganised under Ahriman's terms.

A message had been delivered to the vampire and witch covens scattered throughout Europe and North America, as well as to the League of Assassins and the Shadow League, both of which were loyal to Ras Al Ghul. The Lord Imperial of the Ahriman Society would not be denied his desires.

WWW

The Lord Imperial watched the videos, a smile crossing his face. So, his brother was prepared to come to this world, and the foster brother of his own prodigal brother was here with this group of juveniles?

The last time he'd encountered them was over a millennia ago. Let them come. No one crossed Derman Ugorg, son of the First Murderer and the Fallen Woman of El, destroyed by Rugal Al-Ilham so long ago, in a universe long trapped in the throes of heat death and entropy.

They would find him, one way or another, and he would devour them all.