Jump City Jump

by P0ST

One City, six Titans, and their wildcard. Act One: Deuce-to-Seven. ...The Third Birth...

12. Suites part 3

(Several Weeks Ago...)

"Y-You don't understand... ...The battle is already lost... ..." The reptilian man wheezed, blood oozing out of his jaws and over his red skin. "They have the Dark One's technology—Who knows what they'll do with it?"

"I know you've been through some trauma, buddy!" Beast Boy shouted above the noise of the Amazonian jungle whipping past their heads. "But could you be a little less cryptic while you and I careen mindlessly to our burning death?"

"Surely you have the means to control this thing!" The alien clamored to keep his hold on the speeding lumber mill on wheels, screaming its bladed way down the railroad tracks as it zoomed by hundreds of gasping workmen on either side of the forested trail. "Are all Terrans as uneducated in machina as you?"

"Listen, Kermit-"

"Razzar."

"I prefer iTunes myself. Listen—There's this limey metal freakjob chasing us with a score to settle! Nao I want some answers or am I gonna have to shed your skin months before summertime?"

"Look at the way you flinch, earthling! You couldn't threaten a dust mite!"

"... .. ..I have you know I went to church with dust mites-"

KAPOW!

"ACKIES!" Beast Boy flinched against his extraterrestrial companion and gazed down at the speeding lengths of the jungle canopy around them. A caravan of earth-kicking vehicles barreled straight after them on the tracks, and in the center was a howling tin man, his arm outstretched with a hot laser pointed their way. "Dammit—why can't he make like a good Buzz Lightyear and act himself into a canceled sitcom?"

"Your jocularity only serves to heighten the irony of your own death."

"Are all red skinned alien crocodiles born with a thesaurus up their-?"

KAP-POW!

Tree limbs and debris tumbled across the bladed traincar. "We are the quintessence of doomed!" Razaar shouted.

"Like nuts we are! If there's anything I've learned about tight situations like this, they always call for-"

A series of green arrows swished out of the jungle, flitting across the blurred world and landing with magical discharges around the wheels of the tin man's caravan, forcing the vehicles to swerve mightily. Ka-B-B-BOOM!

"-short skirts and explosions." The green hero tilted his head up and smiled proudly. "Oh sweet...sweet Zoey..."

And out from the jungle wall, leaping from the meaty shoulders of a thundering panther, a figure descended onto the pursuing caravan—a billowing tunic, her feminine curves briefly silhouetted in the hot Brazillian sun, her skin briefly shining-

With a birthmark thereupon...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(April 23, 2005...Today)

Beast Boy blinked.

He sat, perched birdlike, on the edge of a spiraling staircase, sighing lethargically as he overlooked what had to have been—by far—the most boring guardpost in the team's entire exercise: the Vaughan Concert Hall's front lobby. Every nao and then a random passerby would stroll through the foyer and towards the double-door, glancingly confusedly upwards at this green and decidedly-out-of-place elf in waiting.

"Move right along..." The changeling droned, waving a bored glove and stifling the latest of yawns. "Nothing to look at here, unless you like to see teenage boys in spandex squatting like incontinent nuns on the Vatican balconies."

The doors opened and closed swiftly, briefly washing the room with—and swiftly drowning out—Madeline Kobayashi's cello strings from stageside, as she oozed through the latest of Bach's antiquated movements, this time in C major.

The Third Suite.

"Frickin' waste of time, I swear to Bono." Beast Boy mumbled and fished through his pockets for something hidden. "The day I find out that Cyborg has a love child of Lucy Liu and Stevie Wonder for a girlfriend, and I'm stuck pulling guard duty at PBS City." He pulled out a folded up sheet of paper, marked all over with his own scribblings. He swiftly unraveled the parchment. "Grff... ...And who's the genius from Napoleonic times who invented concert halls and said that they couldn't serve popcorn or friggin' Reeses' Pieces at events like this?"

As he unfolded the paper, several personally sketched symbols appeared to the light—mimicking the many different birthmarks he had discovered on his person after a full night of self-scrutiny. Each symbol was matched up symmetrically with the name of an animal ('Crocodile', 'Squirrel', 'Cat', 'Pelican'), suggesting the form that the green shape-shifter had possessed at the time of wearing the respective body blemish.

"Ah yes... ...This wonderful thing." He smiled tyredly to himself, murmuring to likewise. "And the meaning of this is... ...is... ..." He frowned. His underbiting tooth shimmered angrily in the foyer's cold electric light. Schiiing! "... ... ...absolute horse hockey." The changeling blinked. "Did I just Sherman Potter'd?"

A sigh and he turned the thing around in his grasp, his green eyes darting down the symbols, symbols, symbols as he grumbled the limping minutes of the mission away.

"Could have been nice if you had given me a frickin' decoder ring, Razzar... ..." Garfield sighed. "Or were you too busy gawking at Zoey during the time to think about it? Heh heh...Cuz I sure was." He smirked.

"Snkkkt—Beast Boy. Come in. This is Raven."

Garfield's smirk instantly fell off his chin like a prom night zit. He sighed, reached into his back pocket, and flipped open the honeycomb-shaped communicator with a Star Trek sound. "Copy, Raven. This is Green Mouseketeer. What's the update on Golden Goofy?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

"Do you sever shut down?"

"I'm asking for an update from the front of the lobby."

"You? Asking for an update?"

"Okay, not me. Cyborg's making me ask."

"Why's he asking you to ask me when he could just ask himself to ask me?"

"I think he's too busy overlooking the murders I'm about to commit the next moment you waste my precious time."

"Hooboy! Ahem...Coast is clear, Miss Raven. Nothing to see here but us sexy-eared elflings, Miss Raven."

"Nnngh... ...I copy-"

"Nothing to worry about save for the dropping of slacked jaws at the finely toned muscles and rugged good looks of us sexy-eared elfings, Miss Raven-"

"One of these days, Garfield, you're going to collapse from the weight of your head being so full of sh-"

Suddenly Cyborg: "Will y'all please be so kind as to stop spamming the airwaves with your hormonal bickering?"

Beast Boy blink, cockeyed: "Hormonal?"

Raven: "Snkkt—Hormonal?"

Starfire: "Spamming?"

Cyborg: "Silence! All of y'alL! Dayum! SNKKTkkkt-" And that was the end of that.

"Harumph..." Beast Boy harumphed.

He blinked, smirked to himself, glanced left and right, and then reached into his other pocket. He produced a red pen—the author of the various scribblings on the paper sheet in his grasp. Whipping a glove off, he brought the red pen to his middle-most knuckle and drew a big bright crimson dot into the skin. He then formed a hand puppet with said limb—its fresh 'chakra stone' glistening in the foyer light.

"Hormonal?" The elf remarked. "The only thing hormonal here is what God did to your thighs."

The tiny, red-speckled hand puppet 'talked' back: 'Don't insult the shape of my hips! I'll have you know I've done plenty of squat-thrusts in front of bookcases and bench-pressed many a teacup to get this figure!'

Garfield planted his opposite hand into his hip as he Leonardo Dicaprio'd towards the ostentatious puppet. "You couldn't bench-press a mosquito if it landed on your chin!"

The effigy hissed back: 'That is impossible! For my anorexic sarcophagus of a body doesn't even pump the blood necessary to attract a mosquito, or a boyfriend for that matter!'

"Why Raven! I didn't know you thought about boys!"

'Sure I do! They fly around at night and kidnap Brad Pitt in badly lit cemeteries!'

"Silly Raven. Those aren't boys—Those are vampires!"

'They're one in the same. Because I'm a self-righteous Vulcan eyebrow'd princess, and anything or anyone that isn't like me essentially SUCKS. Therefore all boys and fluffy woodland creatures are vampires!'

"Why don't you go outside, find Anne Rice's leg, and duct tape her to your groin so you can hump her all day!"

'That would have to assume that I care to see sunlight, my mortal enemy! I mean it; the soonest I step out and even see a rainbow, ten legions of smiling Levar Burtons will trample me to death and feed me to the dogs like Jezebel at the city gates!'

"Girl, I bet you'd enjoy being trampled to death in front of a Hot Topic!"

'Hell yeah! To smile is lame! To wince and shudder in pain is to make love to one's own divine strawbery angst, you dense illiterate motha-'

"SNKKT—Stop it already."

Garfield blinked. His eyes darted towards the communicator in his lap. "Erm...stop what, Raven?"

"Making fun of me." BLIP

"DAH! Don't—Jeez-DON'T DO THAT!" Garfield hissed at the communicator, his shoulders slumping in a sigh. "... ... ...Wutever. I was getting bored of Mister Chakra-O anyways." He slipped his glove back on, leaned forward with an exasperated groan and stared at the sheet of paper in his grasp.

Symbols and symbols...

"Seriously...Hao did I get here?"

Symbols and symbols and symbols... ...

"Was this the fate you were rambling about, Zoey...?"

Symbols and symbols and symbols and symbols... ... ...

"... ...Ah Hell. I'm about to have a flashback, aren't I?"

Symbols and...

Cello music...

An inverted grin, green eyes blinking, entreating:

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(January 05, 2004)

Garfield Logan paced restlessly across the dark confines of a twelfth story hotel room, his pointed ear taking in the lengths and widths of a frustrated voice squawking forth from the other end of his cell phone.

"It's no use, Garfield. I've phoned the casting director twice this week. I've gone on conference call with the head writers. I even got into my Lamborghini, drove all the way across Hollywood Boulevard, waltzed onto the Paramount Studios, and personally spoke with Associate Producer Hannah Montague. It's surprising that I didn't get my ass thrown in jail for going that added length and barging in on them for you. It's no deal, Garfield. They're writing your character out of Space Trek 2022. The show is one season away from cancellation anyway."

"But Ron!" A nervous shadow of an elvin boy paced, paced, paced, and stammered into the phone. "Y-You're my agent! You've got to work this out for me! You promised me that you would get me a steady spot on television!"

"And I did, Garfield. I didn't attend your victory party for nothing."

"They only cast me for three episodes! I-I mean, what's the d-deal? I gave it the old college try! I was the first to show up and the last to leave for auditions! I-I mean—what's the problem?"

"It's not you, kid. It's the world. Tough shit, Hollywood. If you pardon my language. Hao old are you again?"

"Uhhhh..." A shadowy sweatdrop.

"Anyways, I promised to leap fiery hoops for ya. But sometimes, when the wind picks up, you gotta wait for the brushfire to come and go. I know we'll get you a spot somewhere else in prime time—You just gotta be patient and trust me."

"Trust you? Dude—Over half my earnings have gone into this and—"

"What? You're wanting to back out nao?"

"Whoah-Whoah, wait! I-I didn't say..."

"I thought we had a deal, kid."

"W-We did, Ron! I-I-I mean we do! At least I hope we still do! Ron, what do you need me to do? I'm all the way here in Gotham City—" Grfield paused. He gazed out the hotel window for a second, then returned to his cell phone. "—Jump City, and I'm talking to all the people you've told me to and none of them are helping!"

"What about Professor Devon?"

"At the liberal arts school? Dude—Ron—Man, I made it clear from the beginning that I wanted to do television! Not theatre!"

"You may have to do local stuff to get by while I try and hitch you a better gig, kid."

He frowned. "She says I'd be perfect as Laura Wingfield in The Glass Menagerie."

"Yeah? So?"

The petite shadow waved his arms about dramatically. "Professor Devon is an eighty-eight year old senior citizen with clinical blindness! She thinks I'm a dudette, dude! What am I supposed to do, put on a wig and crossdress while I do my lines?"

"Why not? Tony Curtis did it."

"I'm not—Snkkt—Dnngh—DUDE. Seriously, I'm desperate here. Not THAT desperate, but—come on, Ron! I'll die if I can't get a roll in television!"

"I'm trying my best, everyday, Garfield. And if you don't want to give me credit for all the back bending I've done for you, well that's fine. Just don't expect me to attend your next party if you give me that attitude."

"Nnnngh..." He rubs his temple, aching.

"Do we have a problem?"

"No, Ron..."

"Alright, then. Just chill there in Jump City. Sip a mango or something—That place is in Florida, right?"

"Uhhh...Maryland I think. No wait, Delaware. No.." He blinked. "Dude, where the heck am I...?"

"Whatever. Just relax. I'll call you tomorrow, noon, on the spot. We'll get you through this, Garfield. Just trust me."

"Yes, Ron."

"And kid?"

"What...?"

"You seriously think you're dying without a chance to be on that godawful Space Trek 2022 show? You're far from starving, kiddo. I mean, you were a frickin' superhero for god's sake. Weren't you?"

He hung his head.

"I mean weren't you?"

"I used to be...kind of." He gazed off to the side.

"Well, we all have our glory days. Yours are yet to come. I can just see them!"

"Uh huh..."

"Catch you tomorrow. NOON—Garfield, I promise." (Click)

He slowly hung the phone down by his side. "If I was still a superhero, I'd afford better agents than you."

Silence.

A cool, night breeze drifted in through the windows and fluttered the blue curtains. Tyred, sulking, and sagging, Garfield marched out onto the balcony and slumped over the railing. "Phweeeeeeeee..." He exhaled long and hard. His eyes were thin. His pointed ears wilted. "...or if they just called me for once."

A minute passed. Two. He wasn't really staring at anything—not at the moonlight-glittering Bay beneath him, not at the Bayside plaza streaming with youths and night partiers, not at the Boardwalk where clusters of families and high schoolers enjoyed a Friday evening reverie, not even at the distant police lights or City patrol boats in the harbor.

After a blank stare into nothingness, the green skinned emo-thing glanced once more at his cell phone, flipped his finger across the pad, and brought forth a name.

'Larry Trainor'.

He flipped the pad to another name.

'Cliff Steele'.

He flipped to another name.

'Steve Dayton'—

He grunted and quickly flipped once more.

'Rita Far.'

There, he lingered.

His green eyes curved inward. A sniffle escaped him, and his one finger hovered for a long time over the 'call' option on the cell phone's screen.

"...ngh."

He pocketed the infernal thing away and slumped once more against the railing, his head craned atop his folded arms.

"Who am I kidding? An actor?" A breath. "I don't even know what my motivation is supposed to be..."

SHOOOOOOOOOOM!

A bright, green light. Dozens, hundreds of voices far down below along the Bayside gasped and all faced one unified direction.

Garfield looked up. "Huh?" His eyes brightened to match the fiery, airborne plume that reflected against them. "DUDE!"

An emerald comet was hurtling over the hotel—barely a hundred feet above the rooftop—and landing somewhere downtown. KABOOOM!

The ground shook, sending vibrations rippling up into the hotel room itself. Garfield fell back from the balcony and landed on his butt. "Oof!" He blinked. He clamored back up to the railing and craned his neck, hearing with a bloodhound's ear morphing greenily out from his cranium.

Distant voices: "Oh gawd, a UFO?" "No, a meteor!" "It just crashed!" "There's a fire in downtown!" "Aliens? Are we being attacked?" "Someone call the police—No, the Justice League!"

"..." Garfield grinned. He looked back into his darkly lit hotel room and saw a deflated suit-and-mask unenthusiastically spilling out of his half-opened suitcase. "..." He grinned even more. "Yanno wut? Space Trek Sucks."

He ran in….scrambled...and ran back out, dressed from head-to-toe in black and purple. He slid the mask on over his head and pointed ears, took one bounding leap, and sent his petite body plunging out over the balcony.

SWISSSSSH!

In mid fall, he morphed into a green falcon and hung a sharp left—over the gasping heads of the cityfolk below—and bulleted his way towards the emerald fire in downtown...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(Nine Months Ago)

"Acting?" Steve Dayton, Mento, literally spun and gawked at the boy from across the castle foyer. "You're going to go into acting?"

Garfield sat firmly on a stool, his arms folded in an iron-clad pout. "It's all I've got to do nao." He grunted, not even looking up at his team leader. "I've taken acting lessons. I've gone to junior drama school. I might as well make use of whatever talents I have left."

The Doom Patrol leader rubbed his head beneath his helmet and stumbled over, groaning. "Have you finally lost it, Garfield?" Dayton frowned. "You're a fighter, not an actor."

"That's kind of hard to do when I'm not allowed to fight alongside the team." The green-skinned boy finally looked up, glaring daggers at the man. "It's a little impossible when I can't use those 'fighter' talents you suddenly seem to believe in."

"Garfield, I never once lost belief in your talents as a superhero. I've only asked for you to work harder on your priorities! You remember, right? Back when we assaulted the Brotherhood of Evil's Quantum Generator site—"

"Oh please-!" Garfield tossed his arms up and paced around the luxuriously splayed room in the center of Dr. Caulders' European manor. "Not the Quantum Generator Talk again! Dude—Mento—I had to do what I did!"

"No you didn't. You did what you wanted to do, and you did it in total opposition of my authority. And you know it." Mento pointed a firm finger. "I told you to destroy the Quantum Generator—Not save us from the Brain's plasma snare. Do you know how many lives you put into jeopardy? If Negative Man hadn't plowed his way into the Generator's Mainframe at the last second and stopped the miniature black hole from forming—"

"Larry would have done the same thing I did in my place!"

"No he wouldn't—"

Garfield stamped his foot. "He would have done what he could to save his friends!"

"He would have finished the mission!" Dayton snarled. "Dammit, Garfield, this is exactly why you're so lost and confused in your life right nao! You have no proper priorities! A superhero doesn't put 'friendship' and 'family' above the needs of the many! Especially not anyone in the Doom Patrol! And that is why you don't belong on any of our missions!"

"And that isn't fair!"

Creakkkkk! An old, wooden door opened. Rita, Elasti-Girl, walked in from the stonework hallway. "What is all this racket?—Oh no, not this argument again..."

"Stay out of this, Rita." Dayton waved. "It's between men—"

"Don't you boss her around!" Garfield snarled.

Dayton glared down at him. "You should know your place, Boy. When Dr. Caulder and I accepted you into our fold, it was to grow and mature into a reliable force against evil—Not to become the deluded, self-absorbed teenage delinquent I see nao before me. If you can't play by the rules and leave yourself room to grow, then you don't belong in the field."

Beast Boy folded his arms. Frowning. "'re one to talk about growing. You're so addicted to that helmet you've got on that you won't take it off!"

"Both of you!" Rita barked. "Stop-"

But Dayton's eyes were as wide as saucers as he marched like a mountain towards the elvin teen. "What. Did. You. Just. Say?"

"You heard me!" Garfield took a step forward, head tilted up to face the man. Rita stepped firmly between the two, but it didn't stop the petite metamorph from hissing: "I think you just use the Doom Patrol to hide from the rest of the world, and that helmet of yours just heightens your powers so much that it gives you big rush, so it doesn't hurt so bad. Well, that's totally fake, dude, and weak—Cowering from what the very people you save supposedly think of you! You're like a depressed old man scrunched up inside a metal turtle shell!"

"How dare you..." Dayton seethed. "Dr. Caulder made me this to sustain my overactive neurological functions. You know as well as I do that I become a violent, unpredictable, telekinetic handicap without it. I wear it proudly—as I wear my Doom Patrol uniform. And you know why, Garfield? Because being part of the Doom Patrol means something to me that you've obviously forgotten about long ago. And you know what that is? Our so called 'family' that you keep faltering to protect is a family of freaks."

Rita flinched.

Garfield merely glared.

Dayton went on: "That's right, freaks. A hulking tin can with a human brain, a mummified corpse who can astral project himself, a misunderstood giantess—and you, a green skinned, sharp-toothed little nobody who would much more easily pass himself off as a zucchini in a public school cafeteria than a third baseman on a softball team! You ever look at yourself in the mirror, Beast Boy, and try convince to yourself that you could actually fit in with the rest of this world? Of course you can't. None of us can. We're Doom Patrol. Who we are and what we do measures us within the rank of the few—and those few are entitled only to worry over the needs of the many. So the next time I order you to complete the mission first, and save us second—Try and see if you can be a real man and learn the true art of self sacrifice and heroism, because there's a lot more out there worth saving than ourselves. THAT is the merit of a successful superhero team. And successful, we have been, until you disobeyed me with the Quantum Generator."

"People can work together and find another way to be heroic..." Garfield muttered. But it was a quiet voice, wilted. "It doesn't have to be so..so...stupid..."

"Then if you wanna try it, be my guest." Dayton performed an exaggerated bow and motioned towards the nearest door. "But leave, and do it out there. In the world. With normal people. But you won't blend in, Garfield. No, you won't. And do you know why?" Dayton pointed. "Because you are a freak. A freak, Garfield. Perhaps, in your childhood naiveté, you've forgotten that fact, but that's because you've hung around us too long and made the mistake of getting attached. But no matter how far you go, no matter how many people you meet—Out there, you won't be a hero, and god help you—Acting?—pfft-you'll just be a freak, like the rest of us. And people never make friends out of freaks, Garfield, only pets."

Silence.

Then, the grinding of boots echoed as Dayton twisted about, marched out the room, and left with a loud thud of the closing door.

Garfield's fists clenched...clenched...and limply relaxed as he hung his head.

Rita sighed. She shuffled over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Garfield, I'm sorry. Dayton doesn't know half the time when what he's saying can come across as cold—"

Beast Boy angrily shrugged her hand off his shoulder. "Yeah, well, a good job you did of defending me, 'Elasti-girl'. Or did you like it when he called you a 'giantess'?"

"Garfield," she gazed aside into some melancholy shadow of the manor foyer. "...you have to understand, when you've lived as long as the likes of us—"

"Oh, so when I grow up to be as stiff and lifeless as you adults, then I can truly be happy with hating who or what I am? That's totally weak! Totally!" He pointed a shaking thumb at himself. "Do you want to know what I am, Rita? I'm a gift. I'm special. I'm something that God, Darwin, or Mister Rogers made with a purpose, with love and for love. And if I'm a bit different than other people, and if I'm a bit greener than them, and if I take that much longer trying to come up with a sweet joke to make a few measly people happy, then that makes me even more special. Cuz you know what? It sucks to be ordinary, and it sucks to be living in this castle and with this team."

"Garfield—"

"And it sucks." He pointed. "That you." He pointed at the slammed door. "Would stoop to marry a guy like him." The elvin boy stood firm and rigid, but there was an undeniable quiver to his lip that he couldn't stop. He had to swallow deeply before shakily producing the next few words: "I'm leaving, Rita. I'm leaving to find another place, another life where I can have friends, cool friends, people who won't chew me out when I do the right thing and care about them as I would have them care about me. And if they laugh at me instead of with me, then that's cool too. It's a risk that a dude like me can take. Cuz, as far as Mento is concerned—and you can tell him this—I'd gladly be a freak out there anyday. It's certainly a heck of a lot happier than being lonely and miserable..." And he stomped out, but not without adding: "...as the likes of you two."

Even though he wanted to, he didn't slam the door. Perhaps a part of him wanted to hear from the other end of the hallway if Rita would make a sound to call him back. A part of him sank, however, for she didn't say a word.

He left that very night.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(One and a half years ago)

SMASH!

A throng of mechanical soldiers flew in a blizzard of shrapnel across a desert runway. The hot setting sun glistened off the freshly charred pavement as a green triceratops skidded several feet, leapt up, morphed into a purple-masked elf in mid-air, and landed in a coiled pose. A few sparkling computer parts settled around him as he sucked in a gush of air and exhaled with a smirk:

"Yanno, for a guy called the Brain—This punk certainly doesn't learn new tricks!"

"This is no time for joking, Beast Boy!" Mento hissed. Steve Dayton seethed through clenched teeth beneath his teslacoiled helment, summoning a bubbling burst of telekinetic energy before launching it outwards into a charging flank of cybernetic infantry. "Quick! Cut Mallah off at the path! He and the Brain must not make it out of this airspace!"

"Gotcha, Gotcha." Beast Boy sighed and ran into a full sprint down the embattled runway. "Monkey See, Monkey Do. Who am I, Jane Goodall?" He dove forward, landing on four Cheetah feet and dashing after a runaway primate on board a hovercraft. On either side of him, the runway stretched wide to reveal hundreds upon hundreds of synthetic footmen charging in on the Doom Patrol from all angles.

As Mento charged another blast into an incoming wave, Elastigirl rushed forward at two-stories' height, barreling through a jeep carrying several automatons with grenade launchers. She winced at the streams of plasma and energy frothing off her enlarged limbs. "Ugghh—General Immortus manufactures so many of these troops, you'd think they would start to smell good for once!"

"Don't hesitate to tear them apart, Rita!" Mento shouted above his telekinetic blasts. "Remember—They're just androids!"

"Hey!" Robotman marched by, frowning and ripping the head off a cybernetic lieutenant. "You do realize I'm right here!" The metal man snarled, drop-kicked the sparkling skull, and punted it straight into the chest of a front line of reinforcements, sending them collapsing back on each other just as he leapt at them with a thunderous drop fist. "HAAAAAAAAAUGH!" THUDDD! Robotman looked up from his crater of destruction and smirked aside. "Hao ya doing, ragdoll?"

"A little busy here, Cliff..." Negative Man sneered from beneath his shrouded form. He ducked the swinging bayonet of an android guard, leapt over a point blanc laser shot, backflipped in mid-air-and then held his breath as he concentrated and fired two tendrils of black energy donward from his upended shoulders. SL-SLIIINK! The mechanical thug fell into halves. Th-Thap! Negative Man landed on two feet. "Always figured I was a cut above the rest-"

GRIP! Two iron hands gripped onto him from behind. An Immortus Taser burned hot from inside the thug's core.

"Oh, you sweet... ...sweet seal clubber." Negative Man hissed. His body went limp and—FW-FWOOSH! A surging black sihlouette of his astral self slunk back, phased through the torso of the android pinning his body still, and proceeded to swing both hands in opposite scissor motions—decapitating the fiend. CH-CHTUNK! Just as the metal monstrosity fell apart, another one came charging up.

"Aw fudge..." The shadowy figure of Negative Man growled, flew forward, vaulted over his limp body like a pommel horse, and flew straight into the jointed limb of the gun-toting soldier. A brief, lurching second—and the automaton shimmered darkly from the inside out before exploding in an obsidian burst.

FL-FLASH! Negative Man's body stumbled onto two feet again as his shadow returned to its hiding place. "Whew... ... ...Now I know what your lunch feels like, Cliff."

"Very funny!" The golden teammate snarled back and charged towards a huge group of soldiers. "At least I don't have to take my BLTs through a straw!"

"You do remember I'm vegetarian, right?"

"You do remember I don't care, right?" The robot grabbed an entire F-16 off the runway, spun once, and slammed the weight of the multi million dollar aircraft into the unsuspecting clump of titanium terrorists. KA-POWWW!

Negative Man winced. "Way to go, 'Clunkerin' Time'!"

"Rita!" Mento shouted, propelling the sound waves of his voice above the mayhem via telepathic boost. "Where is Beast Boy? Is he intercepting Mallah yet? The jet might take off any second!"

"I-I can hardly see, Steve!" Elastigirl panted, enlarging by another dozen feet and stamping her foot through an exploding tank. B-BOOM! "The fog of war from Immortus' troops is positively blinding!"

"I swear..." Mento winced, fighting a migraine as he projected a defensive bubble around himself and the Doom Patrol, deflecting an incoming missile. "If that kid bungled yet another simple task-"

"Look! Dropping from the Zenith like a falling star!" Robotman pointed up.

Negative Man punched another soldier to metal bits and flashed Robotman a papery glare. "The Hell did you read that from-?"

"Dammit, look!"

"AAAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAAAH!" Two bounding emerald figures landed, cracking the pavement into rubble. They barreled over each other and ended in a furious struggle, twin Beast Boys wrestling in double armbars, seething.

"Let... ...Me... ...Go!"

"You idiot! I need to stop Mallah!"

"No, I was doing that when you attacked me!"

"You calling me an imposter?"

"I'm calling you a doodoo head!"

"Oh, it's this shiet." Negative Man groaned.

"Ah Hell-" Robotman turned and glared the leader's way. "Steve-?"

ZAP! Mento demolished another wave of androids. "Yeah, yeah..." The coast was clear enough for him to march over and finger his helmet, glaring at the two elflings in combat. "Which one of you deserves a spanking and which one of you really deserves a spanking?"

"Steve! Zap her!" One hissed. "It's me!"

"Nuh uh! She's the one! She plowed into me like I was a Pennsylvanian snowbank!"

"She's the one keeping me from stopping Monsieur Mallah and the brain!"

"Look at those hips—She is SO a she! Not me!"

"I'm too miserable to be amused by this." Negative Man droned.

Elastigirl flung a jeep at a fleeing group of androids. SMASH! "G-Guys!" She panted. "I can see the jet nao! Mallah's almost about to take off-!"

"Dammit to Hell..." Mento grumbled, his pained eyes darting back and forth at the two. "We haven't time for this-"

"Just zap her already!"

"Dude! Don't listen to her! Steve, who made you a soy milk sundae to down your headache pills last birthday!"

"You put soy milk into everything! That's a no-brainer!"

"Dude! I so do not—I mean it, stop messing with me!"

"Dude! You're the imposter!"

"Dude!"

"Dude!"

"Dude!"

"Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!" Mento clenched this teeth so hard they could crack.

"Steve...calm down," Robotman planted a hand on the telekinetic leader's shoulder. "I can handle this. Ahem—Oh my god, kid, look!" The golden construct pointed a metal finger. "It's that hot chick, the Yellow Power Ranger!"

"Where?" One Beast Boy melodramatically looked over his shoulders with hungry eyes.

"Cliff..." The second one squinted disgustingly. "Weak, man. She's dead."

Robotman leaned in and whispered: "Zap the first one."

"Works for me." Mento shrugged. FLAAAAASH! A bubble of telekinesis knocked the first elf clear off his feet.

"UGGH!" He slammed into the concrete and turned into a she. Seething, a red-clad Madame Rouge stood up and whipped her limbs into razor sharp spears. Chiiiing! "It matters very little. I have distracted you imbeciles long enough for my master to-"

WHUDDDDD! Elastigirl's olympian boot flattened over Madame Rouge, reducing the villain to a sandwiched puddle against the asphalt. "She's got a point, Steve." Rita murmured. "Even I couldn't bound over fast enough to catch up to him nao."

"I'm all out of juice too..." Negative Man slurred, leaning on Robotman. "Not to mention decency-"

"Well we just can't let him get away-!" Mento snarled.

"Oooh! Oooh!" Beast Boy jumped and waved his arm wildly. "Let me! Let me catch up to them-"

"Garfield, you had your chance-"

"Immortus' goons are flattened, Rita's got her pitching arm-"

"-I do?"

"-and there's no time to argue!"

"But-"

Beast Boy spun and gazed up at Elastigirl, grinning through his mask. "Hao about it, Rita?"

"Uhm... ... ..Sure thing, Gar..." She nodded with a helpless grin. "But I'll be right behind you!"

The emerald elf flapped up in the form of an eagle and landed on her shoulder. "Remember..." He slid down her forearm, flipped over her elbow, and landed in her palm in an elfin crouch. "... ...don't throw like a girl."

"You can kiss your next month of Gamefly goodbye."

"Eep! Just throw me and I'll forget I said anything-!"

"Alley-OOOP!" Elastgirl swung her fist back, snarled, and threw forward with all her might.

"WOOOO-HOOOOOOO-HOOO-HOOOEEY!" Beast Boy spun, spiraled, twirled his missile-like body in midair before morphing into a sail-fish for extra aerodynamic leverage. Halfway through the flinging arc, he morphed into a whale, gained inertia, and came down as a wind-sailing squirrel. Soon, the floundering image of a giant sentient gorilla and its artificially intelligent companion came into his view, climbing haplessly into the passenger bay of a sonic aircraft.

A brief blink, a momentary lapse in reason, and the frowning gorilla paused at the entrance of the parked jet to look up from the runway. "Master—Did you hear that? As if the sky was opening up and raining down juvenile absurdities?"

"Enough. With. The. Redundant. Observations. Monsieur. Mallah. .Your. Hesitance. Trifles. Me. Almost. As. Much. As. Your. Fur.-"

"Mon dieu!" The Parisian Gorilla smothered the disembodied cerebrum under his hairy arm and dove away from the jet-

-just as the huge sonic thing exploded from the impact of a hulking green tyrannosaurus rex at one hundred and twenty miles per hour.

KA-BOOOOM!.!.!.!

Mallah held the Brain dear, sheltering it from the sizzling bits of flame and debris fluttering all around the asphalt about them.

Four androids from a nearby passenger truck ran up to the smoldering heap that was once the getaway jet. Their tasers aimed at the mess just as-

"HIYAAA!" Beast Boy leapt out of the flames, twirled, dodged a taser blast in mid-air, roped around the first android's gun arm as a snake, and kicked off its shoulder as a kangaroo, sending it crashing into another robot. Another android blasted, blasted, and blasted at him as he dodged every which way as a field mouse, leapt up as a jack rabbit, and then clamped over the thing's face as a skunk—spraying directly into its visor. The blinded robot flailed for the few seconds it took for the changeling to drop to its feet, morph into a gorilla, and fling the horrid thing over the metamorph's shoulder and into the fourth and final robot. CLANK! KAPOW! Beast Boy backflipped over the explosion, slid down off the charred wing of the ruined jet, somersaulted, and landed in a heroic pose in front of Monsieur Mallah.

Fists raised. "Ha! Bro at me, come!" Beast Boy blinked, went cross-eyed, and slapped a hand over his masked face. "Damn it! And after all that-"

"Mallah. Dispense. With. The. Pest." The Brain chirped form under the gorilla's armpit.

"Away with you!" Mallah sneered, whipping out a giant pistol and blasting hot plasma bolts the elf's way.

"Whoah!" Beast Boy leapt the exploding asphalt beneath him and sprinted around Mallah's pivoting vision. "Yanno, Bonzo, people without ponchos really shouldn't try to quickdraw-!"

"I will silence you yet, you verdant waste of flesh and bone!" Mallah fired volley after volley.

"What?.!" Beast Boy leapt the blasts.

"I said I will silence-"

"What?" The elf giggled and swung around a stalk of debris stuck into the asphalt before it was blasted to bits.

"I will silence you verd-"

"What?.?"

"-waste of flesh and b-"

"What?.?.?" Beast Boy galloped towards him, flipped, dodged a blast, and came down with a spinning dolphin tail.

WHAP! "OOF!" The Gorilla fell back, dropping the pistol and nearly collapsing onto his hairy butt.

"Mallah. .You. Are. Starting. To. Embarrass. Me."

"Yeah, Magilla!" Beast Boy came down, stomping through the laser pistol with an elephant's foot, then grinning toothily. "Listen to the air freshner!"

"I shall skin you like a toad!"

"Ugh—I don't do tongue on a first battle-"

Cl-Cl-Clink! Mallah unhooked three grenades in one palm and tossed them all with a snarl: "Do something about this, whelp!"

"Whoa. I. Uhm..." Beast Boy sweatdropped and spun away from the rolling grenades. "BRB!"

KABLAAAAM! The asphalt exploded in a fireball of incendiary madness.

Mallah gripped the Brain hard, his back protectively braced against the heat and debris. The giant primate narrowed his hateful eyes. "Finally, if but for a momentarily, auditory respite-"

"Mallah. If. You. Have. Failed. Me-..."

POWWW! A green rhino barreled through a mound of smoldering debris, sending the grunting gorilla reeling. "HAH!" Beast Boy slid to an elfin stop, juggling an energy core yanked out of a collapsed Immortus lieutenant. "Snap into a Slim Jim! Ee-Hee-Hee-Hee-Hee!"

Mallah hissed, slid a dagger out of his belt, and flung the whole serrated thing—glistening at the changeling. "DIE...!"

Beast Boy grinned. In slow motion he ducked the swing, raising the robot core up in his hand so as to let the flying blade slice the fluctuating interior open. Scrkkkk! He spun as the exposed device pulsed and glowed hotly in his grasp. "Ka-me-ha-me-" He came to a kneeling stop, aiming the slitted opening of the thing straight out at Mallah. "-HAAAAAA!"

PFTCHOOOOO! A hot beam of energy discharged out of the device, knocking Mallah onto his furry hide. "OOOF!" The fanged primate winced, snarled, and got up to his feet—blinking, at first curious—then horrified to realize that his lord and master was nowhere to be found. "M-Master? Master?.!.?"

"There!" SLAP! The dizzied Brain was planted hard onto Mallah's crown. Beast Boy stood back, chewing on an invisible carrot. "Kinda big for a fezz, but if we get you some cymbals—Nobody will notice."

"YOU-" Mallah snatched the Brain with one hand and raised a fist with another.

"Mallah. .Allow. Me." The Brain's eyeslits glowed. A panel opened in the side of the cylindrical skull, popping free a circular disc. "Employ. This. .It. Will. Cancel. Out. His. Superpowers. .Though. How. They. Have. Managed. To. Vex. You. I. Cannot. For. The. Life. Of. Me. Explain."

"Woo boy..." Beast Boy blinked, irises dilating. "Fluff just got Kaizo..."

"So you do remember the last time we used this on you... ..." Mallah sneered, and readied his pitching arm. "Treasure the thought of you drowning in your own venomous juices, you abomination!"

Beast Boy readied his lithe body in a squat. "Nuts to you. I happen to have a degree in monkey dodge ball-"

"RRRGH!" Mallah roared and flung the disc.

"HAAA-" Beast Boy shrieked for good measure, leapt tall, backflipped, and stylishly dodged the soaring, sparkling discus. He landed in a squat and pumped a fist. "HA! No wonder the French are only good at cheese and Mario Kart-!"

Mallah smirked.

Beast Boy froze, realizing that the disc was overthrown on purpose. As a large series of thunderous steps filled the surrounding air, he soon realized why.

BZZZT-TTTT!

"Aaaaaa-AAAAA!"

"Oh no..." The elf spun towards the roaring shriek. "R-Rita!"

"Nnnnn-Nnngh!" Elastgirl winced and jolted all over, having just arrived on scene to become the hapless victim of the thrown leech-disc, which was presently pinned to her convulsing forehead. "Huhhhhh..." She exhaled and fell in a smoking heap, her entire body shrinking so fast that a space of twenty feet yawned beneath her flailing form-

"I got ya!" Beast Boy scampered away from the fight, morphing into a giant wooly mammoth whose trunk caught the woman's body.

"And. Nao. We. Have. Our. Exit." Brain electronically droned as a giant hovercraft lowered into view. The liver-spotted visage of General Immortus briefly appeared in the cockpit, nodding, then pulling a lever as a coil of rope lowered—which Mallah gripped tightly to like the instinctual jungle beast that he was. "It. Is. Always. Elementary. To. Thrash. The. Elementary." And the hovercraft took off towards the desert horizon with the two villains in tow.

Beast Boy morphed into elf form as he gently layed Elastigirl down. "Come on Come on Come on-" He hissed, struggled, but finally managed to wrench the sparkling disc off her forehead. Zzzt! He winced at the electrical discharge and flung the nasty device away. Panting, he whipped his mask off and shook her shoulders. "Come on, Rita! Snap out of it! Scold me! Yell at me! Sob at me—Anything! Just don't be a forever-shrunken-and-Lifetime-victimized-mannequin, please! I don't want you to go kaputzy cuz of me!"

"Nnngh... ... ...I...I-I'll be fine, Gar-Gar...just..." She winced, sputtered. "... ...g-gotta catch my breath... ... ...too much bloodrush, I swear..." She coughed.

He smiled. "That's cuz, no matter hao huge you are, you've always got a big heart."

"Awww..." She winced. "Beast Boy-"

"BEAST BOY!"

The elf winced, ears deflating. "Hooboy. Cue Metalingus."

Steve Dayton marched up, holstering his Mento helmet, his eyes flaring in the way that only Dayton's eyes could flare. "What the Hell is this?"

"Uhhh..." Beast Boy blinked at himself, Rita in his arms. He snuggled up to her and fluttered his eyes. "K-Kodak moment?"

"You think this is a dayum joke?.!.? You think this is a game?"

"... ... ...Twix moment?"

"I told you stop the jet! Not smash it in half-"

"Figured it was a bit harder to fly that way."

"-and let three of our arch nemeses escape!"

"Dude! Mr. Geriatric Command & Conquer bought himself a flying saucer! I mean—Who the Hell writes that shiznet?"

"Don't cut the kid too low, Steve..." Negative Man muttered as he sauntered up on limp feet. "I saw the battle from afar. Friggin' kid was handing Mallah's hairy butt to him on a silver platter. Brain too-"

"Until he abandoned his directive and let them escape! Just like that!" Dayton rubbed his aching forehead.

"Yo, Steve, buddy!" Cliff pounded up on metal feet, a heap of dismantled android soldiers flung over his shoulder. "He only did it to save Rita! That coward of a noodle bowl tossed another one of them discs at us again! Elastigirl got the burn!"

"And hao many times do I have to remind you people-!" Dayton roared. "The success of the mission takes priority! Dr. Caulder's enemies are vile, souless terrorists! Who knows what atrocities they might commit nao that they've gotten away from their HQ scott free? All of us are expendable so long as we can prevent this from happening again and again!"

"It's...m-my fault, St-Steve..." Elastgirl hiccuped and winced, sitting up dizzily against Beast Boy's grasp. "I-I should have been more careful and realized Brain had an ace up his...erm... ...pan."

"It's not right for you to apologize, Rita!" Beast Boy frowned. "Who could have seen that coming-?"

"Truth was... ...I was a little distracted..." She hissed.

"With what-?"

"We can't afford distractions. Nnnngh..." Dayton struggled through another migrained, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He shuddered and slapped his Mento helmet back on, immediately calming down. "Alright. Alright—Beast Boy, stay here and watch after Elastigirl. Make sure she's not seriously hurt. Negative Man, if you've regained your charge-"

"Yeah yeah... ...long ranged recon." The shrouded man groaned. "Yanno...You're not the only one who has headaches, Steve."

"Less griping and more astral projecting. Robotman, give him a boost with your energy charge if you've got some."

"Hao about a swift kick in the papyrus?"

"I'd tell you to go stick your head in a fridge but somehao that'd probably be bringing your mom into the equation."

"Bite me, Larry."

"If I could find a part that didn't break my teeth, I might."

"ENOUGH! Both of you! Yeesh—Am I babysitting the Doom Patrol or leading it?.!.? I gotta call the Doc—let him know of our latest blunder..."

As the three men wandered from the smoldering sight of the final battle, Garfield remained with Rita, sighing defeatedly.

"B-Beast Boy... ...?"

"Y-Yeah?" He immediately smiled down at her.

"I'm sorry for being distracted..."

He smirked and steadied her shoulders. "And just what could make you run straight into a flying disc of life-sucking doom, as if it was some god forsaken crime?"

"I was... ..." She shuddered, a wilted look to her face. "... ...I've never seen you go solo into a battle like that before. And I was the one who threw you. I guess... ...erm... ... ...I-I guess I was just worried, is all..."

"Heheh...Well you didn't have to be..." Beast Boy winked. "I was throwing every Planet of the Apes joke I had in my arsenal. I was gonna move onto Ten Commandments when Brain gave Mallah the go ahead to pull a Kevin Nash with that coffe coaster of his."

"I know that this team and what it does is important, Beast Boy... ..But I don't ever want to lose you..." She coughed, wheezed, and relaxed with a warm smile. "I'd hate myself forever if I lost my Gar-Gar..."

"Awww... ... ..." He snuggled her shoulder and hugged her close. "I care for you too, Mom-" A blink, and he bit his lip, blushing.

"Hmmm-hmmm-hmmm..." She chuckled slightly.

"Erm..." He gritted his teeth with a sweatdrop. "That... ...uh...th-that sorta just came out... ...Ya know. Like surprise kittens in the closet..."

"Nothing to be ashamed of, Garfield..." She patted his wrist gently.

"Yeah... ..." He smiled and rested against her, but his eyes were melting away in a far off place. "... ...I g-guess not... ..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(Three and a half years ago)

"Congratulations, Beast Boy!"

"Woo-hoo! Way to go, squirt!"

"Heh...Here's to beginner's luck, eh kiddo?"

Applause. Cheers. Robotman clapped his metallic hands. Negative Man gave a thumb's up. Rita hoisted a tiny, masked Beast Boy up into a hug and sat him down at the end of the table in the Caulder Manor dining room. There was a large, yellow, marble cake on the table with 'Beast Boy's First Mission' squirted triumphantly across the top in green frosting.

"It was your first mission! And a successful one at that!" Rita hovered behind where he sat and rested her hands on his shoulders. "We couldn't have defeated Red Jack without your help, Beast Boy. So we wanted to show you how thankful we are for your help in the field this week! And also to say 'Welcome to the Doom Patrol'."

"Wow! Y-You didn't have to..." He beamed, then bit his lip with a touch of uncertainty as he nervously eyed the cake. "Erm...is it-?"

"Hehehe," Rita gave him a little hug. "Don't worry. It's vegan."

"Wicked!" He squealed. "Thanks a whole bunch!"

"Mmmm...Vegan bakery," Robotman folded his arms. "Sounds exotically scrumptious."

Negative Man tilted his enshrouded head up at him. "And how the heck are you supposed to taste the difference?"

"Hey, man, I dig the texture."

"You're full of it, ya walking trash can."

"Toilet Paper rack!"

"Oh, prick me, do I not leak…"

"Why I oughta—"

Mento marched up between them. "Knock it off, you two. Save it for the scissormen."

"Yeah, whatever." "Damn, wyrd-ass yokels."

Mento held his arms behind his back and stood before Beast Boy and the cake. He smiled. "That was very impressive: the way you stalled Red Jack long enough for us to give the finishing blow. Turning into a rhinoceros and smashing holes into the walls around him?"

Beast Boy bit his lip. "Well...erm...the dude really didn't seem to like sunlight much. And I wasn't all that happy to see what he was doing to those poor little butterflies…"

Laughter. An air of joy, levity, as they all hovered around the green changeling.

"In all seriousness, though," Mento raised a hand, smiling. "If today is any indication, you're going to be an exceptional addition to this team, Garfield. Oh—wait—I'm sorry. Beast Boy."

"So you do like the name?" the elfin boy beamed.

"Certainly. It is...fitting, if nothing else. Nao, if you will excuse me," Mento marched off. "I have some reports to make of our last battle. Enjoy yourselves, team. Just don't forget that we have training tomorrow morning."

"Oh, I look forward to it with great anticipation." Negative Man rolled unseen eyes and shrugged. "It's not like I'm capable of sleep. So let's all rub it in Larry's face and schedule the next important meeting twelve frickin' hours from nao!"

"How can we rub anything in your face when we can't even see it?" Robotman jabbed. "Much less care to?"

"Are you going to cut the cake, Threepio? Or do I have to spill ectoplasm all over it trying to do it myself?"

"Fine, fine, lemme just grab a knife."

"Try using your elbow. It's certainly a lot sharper than your wit."

"Oh go crawl into a pyramid and die."

"Feh."

The two walked off, leaving Rita and Garfield alone at the table, chuckling.

"You'll get used to those two. They mean well. Really."

"Is the Doctor here?" Beast Boy asked, craning his neck to look around. "I want him to know we got rid of Red Jack for good!"

"Ohhhhhhh-I'm afraid Niles had to be at a convention today, honey. He's in Opal City with Dr. Magnus and Dr. Stone, discussing new forms of bio-electric perpetual motor animation."

"Whozzitwhatsimagasm?" Garfield went all but cross-eyed.

"Hehehehe—They're working on a way to help injured people live again—Kinda like Cliff."

"Ohhhh...Well, that's cool. Maybe Robotman will someday meet a Robotgirl!"

"Well, wouldn't that be interesting?" Elasti-girl smiled.

"Yeah!" Beast Boy hopped in his seat. "Then, like, they could get married and give birth to a toaster!"

"Snkkkkt—" Rita almost collapsed. She leaned over the chair and cupped a hand over her mouth. "Heheheheheh—Ohhhhhh Garfield, you're too much. Just don't say that one when Cliff's in the room."

"Why not? He loves toasters."

"If you insist, Beast Boy. If you insist."

Garfield took a deep breath. His smiling lips lingered as his green eyes gazed warmly into the distance, but suddenly cooled. "R-Rita?" He murmured.

"Yes, Garfield?" She knelt beside him.

He look at her. "Did I really...really help us save people?"

"Hmmm...Yes, Garfield. Red Jack was a menace. A lot of souls would have been in trouble if we hadn't stopped him."

"Like, lot—lot of people?"

"I would think as much."

He exhaled—like a breath of relief—and smiled once more, softly this time. "That's pretty kewl. Just what I wanted."

"Well, that's sweet, Beast Boy." She ruffled his head of green hair. "You're a superhero after all, in my book."

His eyes fell to the wayside, though. He bit his lip and muttered: "I just...k-kinda wish I was able to...yanno...save them too."

Rita's lips pursed. A blink, and she inhaled sharply. "Oh Garfield..." She slid over and hugged him closely, cradling his head inside the nape of her neck. "They would be so...so very proud of you. They would..."

He sniffed and hugged her back, resting his eyes shut. "I wish they were here nao...To know that I'm helping keep people safe. I think it's what they would have wanted from me..."

"I know it, Garfield. And—somehow—I think they know it too."

He smiled at that. A touch of wetness formed a sheen under his shut eyes.

A silent moment...then...

"We should go down to the village and buy a stroller."

"A stroller Garfield?"

"For Robotman's baby toaster, of course!"

"Ohhhhhhhhhh Garfield," Rita rolled her eyes and chuckled. "You're impossible."

"Hehehehehe...But you laughed, didn't you?"

"Heheh..."

"Didn't you?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(Four Years Ago)

A young elf curled on a couch, his green skin still scuffed in various spots from bruises and the signs of harrowly escaped doom. And yet, serene and exhausted, the petite child rested—his head nestled in Rita's lap, while the young woman sat beside him before a fireplace, gently stroking his shoulder and back.

"... ... ..." Rita glanced up from Garfield and towards the other two in the central room of the Manor. "He has nowhere to go. His parents are dead. His other relatives deceased. His only foster parent-"

"Is in jail. Rightfully so. And thanks to us." Steve Dayton remarked, leaning against the hearth and rubbing his temple. He winced ever so slightly, hissed his breath out into a sigh, and murmured on: "To think that on top of government embezzlement, Nicholas Galtry chose domestic violence as a hobby. I know the Logans were an intelligent pair of people whom the Science Community can never replace... ...but they sure had a terrible choice in a godparent."

"They never wanted this to happen.. ..." Rita remarked. The woman gazed sympathetically down at the sleeping child. "Nobody would wish this for someone so young. To be diseased, transformed, orphaned—And nao add physical abuse to the mix?"

"You've always had a soft spot for hard luck cases, Rita..." Steve smiled.

"Is that why you fell in love with me?"

"Also, you can think up mathematical equations like Athena on steroids—Nnngh.." He clutched his head with both hands, shuddering.

Rita blinked, lips pursing in concern. "Steve! Maybe you should-"

"N-No...Rita..." He hissed, rubbed his skull, and slowly...slowly relaxed from where he stood. "I-I just...I just gotta regain control..."

"Not without the helmet, you won't."

The two glanced over as a pair of wheels glistened in the flickering firelight. Dr. Niles Caulder rolled up to a stop and folded his hands together. "Steve... ...I've told you time and time again. Your migraines are going to get worse without the aid of the neurological suppresion field that I built into your invention-"

"I know, I know, Doctor. It's just that..." Steve took a shuddering breath. "It feels almost like everytime I turn to that thing and slap it on my head, I only grow more and more dependent on it. I'm thankful for all of the modifications that you've made, but I built that thing originally to amplify my telepathic abilities. And it still serves that purpose."

"I think you simply used it in excess over your latest adventure..." Dr. Caulder remarked, briefly stroking his beard as he gazed at his two proteges and their little guest. "Though I do not blame you. That embezzling fiend had to be taken down."

"Yeah...besides," Dayton glanced once more towards the elfling on the couch. "I don't like it when kids get thrown into the mix... ...in the worse way."

"Doctor, have you read up on the Logans' child?" Rita Farr asked.

"Read up?" Caulder briefly smirked. He wheeled a bit closer to the couch, staring at the slumbering green kid. "I used to work side by side with Marie and Mark. I even met their exceptional Garfield on a few occasions. Mmmm...yes. He was quite the talk in the medical circles. It's not everyday that a married pair of geniuses put their life's work into saving their offspring."

"The disease he has..." Rita narrowed her eyes. "It's forced him into a state of metamorphosis and physical flux?"

"Hardly..." The Doctor boredly corrected. "The state of transmogrification is a bi-product of the serum which the Logans concocted. As a matter of fact, it's the only thing keeping him from succumbing to the Sakutia virus in his arteries."

"Sakutia... ..." Rita blinked. "That's fatal to humans." She glanced down at the sleeping boy. "I see... ... ...So long as he's not human-"

"He can't suffer from or transmit the disease." Caulder nodded. "As for the green skin, well, science does have its eccentric mysteries, nao does it?"

"Isn't he human right nao, though?" Steve asked.

Rita smirked cheekishly at her boyfriend and all but lifted the pointed ears off the boy's skull. "Have you even bothered to notice these, Steve?"

"It would seem that the boy has naturally chosen to exist regularly in another humanoid shape that isn't Homo sapien."

"Another humanoid?" Steve blinked confusedly. He rubbed an aching skull while regarding the child with a credulous look. "My knack for biological history isn't as good as my penchant for metaphysical neurology. Doctor, are you suggesting that he's possessing the form of—I dunno—some evolutionary missing link?"

"Hrmmm... ... ...I am sick to death of everyone insinuating that humanity has a missing link," the Doctor boredly looked over. "In all seriousness, Dayton, even you as captain of your team should know that there are unexplained biological entities at large in our world. And the only reason that they are 'unexplained' is because modern civilization, in all its archival observation, has not had the good fortune to document everything that rightfully exists. There are legends that go far back to the beginning of recorded history of human entities, distant cousins to Homo sapiens, that ventured forth into landscapes where the descendants of Mesopotamia refused to venture. Who are we to surmise who may or may not be living beneath the shadows of our self-righteous sentries, even in modern day? The Logans' serum may indeed be a key to understanding that which we are blind to."

"Remarkable hao so many mysterious and off-key phenomenas stumble upon your stately manor, Doctor..." Dayton briefly mused.

"Hmmm... ..." Caulder stroked his beard and gazed over towards the couch. "I would very greatly appreciate the opportunity to understand the Logans' serum a lot more, especially since their life's work is nao sharing our humble abode. That boy could hold the secret to many mysteries—not to mention many gifts that could be essential to the structure of this Patrol we're presently forming."

"Wait a second Doc..." Dayton squinted over, wincing slightly. "My telepathy is a little bruised tonight. Are...Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"Yes... ...Yes." Rita looked up, firmly capturing the attention of the two men. "We should."

"Should do what, Rita?"

"Take him in." She said earnestly.

"You mean like adoption?"

"I mean like family." She remarked with a heavy nod of the head. "He needs a place to live, to be safe, to grow up. Where better to do that than around superheroes? I-I mean, that's what we're becoming, aren't we? We all have strange and misunderstood powers.. ... ..But we've learned to make good with them. What's to say that little Garfield here can't do the same thing under our guidance?"

"Gawd, Rita..." Steve rolled his eyes, chuckling. "You just wanna play dollhouse, and nao you've got a real kid to it with!"

"That's so not the case!" She hissed at him, then frowned. "And besides, even if it was—So what?" She glanced her eyes sideways, toward the shadows. "...you and I both know what my elasti-gifts have robbed me of..."

Steve bit his lip, suddenly poked in a painful place...gazing sympathetically at her...

"It does seem like a fair exchange," Dr. Niles Caulder unemotionally murmured. "We offer the child sanctum, tutelage, and safety. And he offers us a chance to learn more about the animal—and human kingdom."

"Doctor...The kid's been through a lot! What are you suggesting?" Dayton shook off a throbbing headache and shrugged. "We slap a team sticker on his forehead and toss him into danger?"

"Nonsense, I just mean-"

"He's been through a lot! Way too much Hell for a kid his age to have grown up with! I can't look out for both the team and his scrawny little butt! It's enough that I have to keep Cliff and Larry and Rita from getting their skulls crushed under Monsier Mallah's fists—But nao I've got to...g-got to...Nnngh..." Dayton stumbled back, clutching his head.

"St-Steve!" Rita gasped. She gently moved Garfield and bounded up to her feet, rushing over to hold the team leader up. "Are you okay? D-Do you... ...Do you want me to get the Mento helmet...?"

"N-No...I-I think I can handle this tonight..." He smiled achingly, reaching over to squeeze her shoulder. "Everytime I put that thing on, I start to feel like a walking steamroller. One track mind, and all of it on terrorist hunting."

She smiled. "A time and a place for that. Maybe you should rest."

"I-I can't just leave this little beastly boy's fate hanging..." He chuckled, then sighed. "I know he needs a place to stay, Rita. But this just isn't the right environment. Don't you think?"

"Beastly boy..." Caulder murmured aloud in though.

"Steve... ..." She patted his shoulder. "You take care of the Patrol. I'll take care of our guest. And then, if he wants to accept our invitation, we'll keep playing the ballgame that way. Hao does that sound?"

"... ... ...Gawd, you are such a woman." Steve smiled, wheezed through a headache, but smiled squintingly at her. "Just my favorite type..."

"If there's one thing I'll never fail to admire about you, Steve, it's your tendency to state the obvious." She stuck a tongue out.

"Sounds fair to me." Caulder generalized the room's conversation, swiveled around, and rolled out of the light of the fireplace. "We'll discuss this in the morning. Steve, I suggest you try using your helmet while sleeping. You'll be of no use in strategizing our pursuit of General Immortus across North Africa without your brainwaves in tact."

Steve sighed and hung off of Rita. "He's right, you know."

"Not always, Steve." Rita murmured, brushing the side of his stubbly cheek. "Nobody can be right all of the time. You know it's not healthy to assume so."

He gazed at her. "Not even if it's you who's right all of the time?"

"Well, I am the exception."

"Heheh..."

"Heeheehee..."

The two held each other, drifting by the fireplace. They gazed over at the sleeping form on the couch, sharing a breath.

"P-Promise me something, Steve... ..."

"What's that, Rita?"

"If we do take him in... ... ...And he becomes one of us... ..." She gulped. "... ...let's do our best to make sure he turns out normal."

Steve nodded, but was embattled with a momentary migraine as he struggled to utter: "I can only do my b-best..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(Five and a half Years Ago.)

He ran as fast as his green legs could carry him.

The tumultuous crashing could be heard for several dozen square acres all around the African countryside.

The river boiled, sped up, bubbled, and roared all the more—all the faster—into a shifting array of rapids, as the floodwaters thickened.

There were other people running too. Shouting people. Howling people.

But he outran them.

Because he saw...because he saw...

With quivering, tearing green eyes...

He saw them, in a blink, flailing in a burst of African sunlight—and then jerked ghostly under as the runaway boat capsized, taking the two of them, devouring them, under a hurdling fountain of floodwater.

Garfield's mouth opened. He heard someone screaming, pitifully, in the distance, and it sounded ever so faintly like him.

In the second it took for the memory of their morning breakfast voices to blip in and out of his pointed ears, he was already in mid-leap—straight towards the bubbling death, after them.

But a pair of strong arms yanked him back, anchoring him to the river's edge—on dry land. A missionary's voice shouted in Swahili. Bodies soared past him with oars, sticks, poles, and ropes—poking and prodding and doing everything to stop the upturned boat—the coffin—from floating off into eternity.

Garfield flailed, jerked—morphed his arms and legs into different claws, tentacles, and tails—But he was too small, too weak, too young...

...too late, to dive in, and save them like they had saved him.

Three days later, on a gray afternoon, haloed by strangers in black, he finally landed his dive, sprawled over their caskets, cremated by the Serengeti Sun. But when it was his turn to drown, it was only in tears.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(Seven Years ago.)

Five year old Garfield Logan was unhappy.

Lying flat on his back on a cot, surrounded by mosquito netting, he let his frustration be known to the world in an impervious, iron-wrought pout.

"Oh, Gar-Gar." A fair-skinned woman knelt by his bed and was rebandaging a half-healed wound on the boy's arm. "My little Gar-Gar, why the long face. Why are you so mad?"

"Why do you think I am mad?" He grunted. He looked with disparaging eyes at his skin...his 'new' skin...his awkward, near-shiny, green-as-the-forest skin. Only the constant ringing of crickets outside the humid tent drowned out the deep, guttural grunts of displeasure from his nostrils. "Look what Daddy's stupid medicine did to me."

"Honey..." Marie Logan leaned over and gave him a firm look. "That 'stupid medicine' saved your life from a horrible disease called Sakutia. Remember when that strange and scary monkey attacked and bit you? It made you sick, darling. Daddy and I almost lost you. What we did, we did to make sure you could still be alive with us so that we could love you today."

"I might as well be dead." Garfield's lips pouted all the more. "I'm all green and icky looking. None of the other kids are gonna want to play with me."

"Honey, you don't know that!" Marie smiled hopefully. "Just you wait and see. They'll all want to learn about all of the new animal tricks you can do!"

"You mean they'll all want to get rides on me." The little boy hid his eyes behind a forearm and mumbled further. "Like I'm their horsie...or donkey..."

"You can't really expect that, Gar-Gar." Marie said. An affectionate smile, and she gently stroked the tips of his nao-pointed ears. "As a matter of fact, I just bet that when you get into high school, the girls are gonna find these new ears of yours positively adorable."

"Oh, ew! Ew! Nao I really hate it! Yuck!" He shook and quivered all over. "Get it out of me! Get this medicine out of me!"

"Nao don't be so difficult, Garfield," She said firmly. "You need to lie down for another day or two while we make sure you get fully better." A groaning sigh. "It'll be a long time before high school. Trust me. You'll get used to it."

"No I won't." He forcefully sobbed.

Right then and there, a tall, handsome Mark Logan walked in through the family tent flap. "Just got done talking with Marlow about the next few dosages and—Wuh ohhhhhhhhh. What do we have here? You're not being sick and grumpy, are you, son?"

Garfield merely folded his little arms and made a great effort of avoiding both parents' gaze.

Marie sighed exasperatingly and looked up at Mark. "I've tried everything just short of baptizing him. I think he's been bitten by more than a monkey when we weren't watching."

"You know...It could have been Jillian," Mark winks at Marie with a smirk. "She could have taken a plane across the Atlantic, landed, snuck into the tent, and given Garfield cooties while he was asleep."

"BLEAKKKK!" Garfield writhed all over.

"HAH! So he's not so comatose after all!" Mark knelt down on the other side of the cot. He gently patted his wife's shoulder. "I got the camp's tub reserved this evening. Why don't you go and relax some, honey. I'll stand guard around Fort Mopey for a while. "

She sighed, but eventually relented with a soft smile. "If you think you'll be anymore successful than I've been, you can certainly try."

"A most harrowing feat indeed," Mark smirked.

"I already replaced his bandage and took his temperature. It's still at the same normal levels as yesterday—"

"So he's making a full recovery. Splendid."

"And then some." She leaned over the cot, kissed Mark on the lips, and then kissed the little boy's green forehead. "Try not to be so stiff and angry, Gar-Gar. It'll make it harder to fall asleep."

"What's the point in sleeping anymore?"

"Well, lil guy...," Mark scooted closer while Marie quietly exited the tent. "...it's a rather natural trait of living things, and they all do it in different ways. So there must be some evolutionary purpose in it." He shrugged and gazed off towards an invisible 'classroom' as he lectured towards the canvass walls of the lantern-lit tent. "Cats, for instance, can sleep up to fourteen hours of a normal day. The common bat sleeps up to nineteen hours a day. This, of course, is very different from the giraffes that you, me, and Mommy see each day—they only need about an hour and a half to two hours a day to sleep. Can you believe that? Heh—And don't get me started on the dolphin, who needs to keep one eye and half of the brain awake at all times so that it won't drown while snoozing in the middle of the ocean—"

"Why would I care how animals sleep?"

Mark blinked in 'surprise' at his son. "Why, I think it's extremely relevant to you, Garfield. You can do a lot of tricks nao that most other kids can't even dream of! Remember three months ago, during show-and-tell at the missionary school? You got upset at Dakarai for showing up with his three-foot, pet iguana? And it wowed all the students more than your hippo-jokes standup?"

"Nnngh..." Garfield gazed aside, frustrated.

"Well, nao you could flick your wrist and—viola!—you can become an even bigger lizard than any one he's ever owned! I mean, heck, you could become something none of the kids have ever seen before! Ever wanted to walk around the village some day as a wooly mammoth? Or a dinosaur?"

"No! I don't like it! I hate it!" He grunted. "I'm wyrd nao! And all the kids will hate me!"

"Hate you?" Mark rubbed his chin in dramatic thought. "Nao, why would they hate you?"

"Because I'm different from them. And I can do wyrd stuff. They're going to laugh at me."

Mark took a deep breath and folded his hands together. "Well, lil Gar...You got a bit of a point there. I really can't argue with that. People do laugh at others. But you wanna know why they do it?"

"Because there're are wyrd people like me that they don't like?"

"Noooooooo..." Mark smiled. He rested a hand on his son's shoulder. "Because when people don't understand someone or something, they sometimes use laughter to hide the fact that they're afraid."

"Afraid?"

"Mmmhmm...More often than you'd imagine."

"But I-I don't want to scare people!" Garfield shuddered. "I'm not scary! I'm just a kid! Like them!"

"And there's nobody better to show them that than you, Gar-Gar. It may take time. And yes, you may have to deal with some silly—even dumb people every nao and then. But you're not going to convince others that you're the same you that you've always been by hiding behind a pout and refusing to make friends."

"But what if they think I'm wyrd and never stop laughing at me?"

"And—heheh—who says that you're wyrd, Gar-Gar?"

"..."

Mark pointed/poked into his son's chest. "You, my son, are special. You are beautiful. And you have always been. You're no more different from your friends than you were before, and yet you're no less different. Why, jeez! If all of us in the world was the same, and nobody was different, it would sure be a boring world—Wouldn't it?"

"You mean it's good to be wyrd?"

"I mean, it's wonderful—absolutely wonderful, to be you. And nothing else but 'you'. In this life that you live, son, you won't have a chance to be anyone but yourself. You must spend that time—all that wonderful, happy, glorious time—to be 'you'. After all, nobody else can be you...but you." He smiled. "Just like nobody else can be me and Mom—or love you anywhere nearly as much as we love you. And yet, there'll be others in your life, Garfield—friends, colleagues, classmates, maybe even a wife some magical day—who will love you in ways that only they can." He gently brushed his hand through his green hair. "You see, my son. Nobody is ever wyrd, or odd. People are unique, and precious. And it is our part in this world to see that they live long, healthy, prosperous lives being themselves. Only that way can we identify them, and appreciate them."

"...you mean I-I can actually have friends still?" Garfield stammered. "...and they wouldn't mind being around me...because I'm special?"

"Because you're you," Mark said. "If people only hung out with others who resembled themselves to the T, then the world would run very, very low on friends. Fast."

"...," Garfield fidgeted a little, but glanced hopefully up at his father. "And you don't just want me to stop pouting?"

Mark squinted. "I always want you to stop pouting." He then lowered and gently kissed his son on the forehead. "But even moreso, Mommy and I love you too much to ever lie to you."

"...really?"

"Absolutely! And I can prove it!" He cleared his throat, struck a dramatic pose, and uttered: "I, Mark Oliver Logan, hereby swear to take his little, green-skinned son to go see the elephant herd by the south river in three days' time."

"Really!" Garfield beamed. "Y-You're telling the truth?"

"Sure am!" Mark said, looked over his shoulder 'covertly', and leaned over to hoarsely whisper: "Though it may be best not to announce this trip to Mommy so soon."

"Why not tell her?" Garfield blinked. "Don't you love her too?"

"Absolutely!" Mark said. "But, between you and daddy, son, there're sometimes five or six days out of the month where a white lie wouldn't hurt."

Garfield giggled. "You're funny Daddy…."

"Heh...wait till you're older, kiddo." He patted his cheek. "Then you'll learn that bad jokes are hereditary in the Logan family tree."

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Gar-Gar?"

"I can nao turn into any animal? Any animal I want?"

"Well, I suppose so. We'd have to take it day by day to figure that out. Why'd you ask?"

"Do you think that next show-and-tell I can actually turn into a hippo and beat Dakarai with my jokes?"

Mark laughed and patted his son's shoulder. "Son, I know you could." The father chuckled.

And the son laughed...and the son smiled...

And the night...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(Seven and a Quarter Years Ago)

The jungle shook elastically, leaves and insects and small heart-pattering mammals scattering in all directions away from an epicenter of noise, a halo of shrieking undulating terror—the sound of a four year old child in excrutiating pain.

On the forest floor, the nubile Garfield Logan thrashed and howled in pain, clutching an arm that had been punctured, that had been lacerated, that had been robbed of a good two and a half quarter inch of flesh, leaving behind a raggedy gash of exposed insides—laced with seeping and dripping green fluid.

The boy's bloodshot eyes darted every which way—pulsing in bright red arteries—hapless to glance at the fleeting tail of a small monkey thing, scampering away into the local bushes, leaving the scene of the horrendous crime. Then the Earth spun once more, and the yelping boy beheld the glittering sunlight filtering down through the emerald canopy above him. He hissed through clenched teeth in a momentary but futile attempt to silence his own howling pains, in an effort to hear the voices of his concerned parents calling out to him—something he had lost track of, flippantly, over twenty minutes ago when he had decided without warning to walk off the hiking trail from directly behind them, in pursuit of a fuzzy green animal.

"Nnnng-Mrraaah...haaa-ahaaaa...Mmm-Mommmmyy...D-Daddyyy..." He curled over in the soil and tall grass, clutching his fleshy hole that was too burning and too soaking in an invasive fluid to bother bleeding. "Nnngh—It hurts...It hurtsss-sss-ssss...mnnahaaahhhh..."

As his shrieking voice filtered through the jungle, two voices desperately—howbeit faintly—echoed back. But they were too far away and too hidden beyond the foliage of the leafscape to get to him, to help him, to hold him, to tell him it was all okay and make the pain go away make the pain go away make the pain go away...

"Nnnh-Mhaaaaa...unngh...hurts so much...mmmphhh..." His eyes streamed with tears. He felt a numbness spreading through his body. His heart pounding faster and faster, but colder and colder, as a deep sweat poured over him—stinging his twitching eyes—teaching him in so few breaths that no amount of words could ever convince a four year old: that life is not forever. And he sputtered to feel it, and to feel it slipping from him. "Mommy... ..." And this time it was a wilted breath, limbs freezing to their joints, his pupils dilating into the earthen crucible of very real, and very lonely fear.

And yet.. ... ..

He wasn't alone for very long... .. ... ... ...

A soft padding of footsteps. A parting of leaves and branches. Grass bending, soil spreading-

"Nnngh...M-Mommy...?" He panted desperately, just as the world turned fuzzy, just as the ceiling of the jungle lurched—for suddenly he wasn't lying on the warm soil, but being carried several feet above the ground, cradled in someone's smooth arms, bounding so fast above the underbrush that it was inhuman.

The boy didn't question it. He didn't fight it. He snuggled into those bounding arms and waited—as the world blurred around him—to deliver him unto salvation or death, whichever came first.

Until the bright sky parted at the edge of the jungle. The Sun kissed down in a liquid warmth. And his parents' voices siren-swung around to reach his twitching pink ears...

Plop!

He found himself rolling to a stop on the hiking path, wincing all over. Dropped like an egg returned to its nest.

And appropriately so:

"G-GAR!"

"Oh my god-"

"GAR!" Marie Logan ran over, screaming. She was soon followed by Mark, two fellow hikers, and a grand accompaniment of horrified expressions. "Oh no—Oh no! Mark! He's been bitten!"

"Lord Almighty... ..."

"Look at the wound. Something's cauterizing the severed arteries from the inside out. Oh no..." She choked, one hand gripping Garfield's arm and the other one covering her quivering mouth. "Oh Jesus, no. Look, Mark! It's Green! It's-"

"Sakutia..." Mark hissed. "It has to be."

"M-Mom...D-Daddy...?" Garfield wimpered. Looking up. "I-I'm so sorry...Nnghhh... ...the monkey...the m-monkey-"

"Monkey?" One of the hikers stammered. "The only primate that could leave a bite like that in these parts is-"

"The Green Capped Mangabey..." Mark seethed. "Then there's no doubt."

"Mark..." Marie cradled Garfield's blonde head of hair to her chest sas she tared at her husband, tears streaming. "We don't have much time. Two hours at best."

"I'm thinking...I-I'm thinking..." Mark hyperventilated, his eyes darting about the Earth at sixty miles per hour-

"Mark."

He looked over.

Her eyes pierced him desperately. "The serum."

"... ... ..." He nodded fervently. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

"Y-You can't be serious!" One of the hikers exclaimed. "Doctors Logan and Logan—You've spent over ten years working on that thing! There's only one working sample-"

"Shut the Hell up and get the jeep started!" Mark growled. "Marie, whatever you do, keep pressure on Gar's shoulder. The hell if I'm losing my kid to Curious George from Purgatory!" Mark whipped out a walkie-talkie and roared into the receiver: "This is Logan to Camp. Go into the lab and grab the Sample. This is an emergency!"

"Come on, let's hurry!" Marie shouted as she stood up with Garfield in her grasp and ran into a full sprint. The other adults joined her as Mark shouted further commands into the communicator.

Sleepy eyed and dizzy, a tear-stained Garfield looked over his mother's shoulder and squinted into the forest wall. His eyesight was hazy and fogged at best, but he could have sworn... ...or at least could have imagined... ...

...a face looking back. Fair and angular in the shadows. Two twitching ears, sharp—and a twirling motion as the shadow darted away. Indiscernible...

Save for a flash of skin... ...and on that patch of pale: a tattoo.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(April 23, 2005...Today)

A crescent moon with a 'v' across it.

"... ... ..." Garfield squinted his eyes at the sheet of paper in his grasp.

The symbol stood before him, standing out among the rest. It haunted him like a blemish stained against a bedroom window he may have slept beneath every night, or something engraved on the inside of his eyelids. In so few geometric lines and angles, it practically sang to him.

"I've... I've... ... ...tap-dancing Cheney on a picnic table—I've seen this before..." He murmured out loud to the walls of the Vaughan Concert Hall's lobby. From beyond the double doors to the auditorium, Madeline Kobayashi's expert cello strings could be heard playing through to the end of Bach's Sixth Suite. But most of the world drowned out as his green optics narrowed further on the crytograph suddenly developing within his perched grasp. "What's got my brain in a sharpshooter that this should be so important...?"

He blinked. The green elf glanced obligatorily at the animal shape he had so expertly matched to the birthmark a day and a half ago.

And the coordinated zoological form: Mongoose.

"Huh... ... ...If that don't beat all." He tilted his gaze up towards the length of the lobby, as that room metamorphosized in his mind to become the walls of a forested glade, with jungle foliage acting as a ceiling, with a strange little blonde boy's screams replacing the silence, and an unknown shadow with soft feet padding over mysteriously from some hidden spot in the world...

With smooth arms...

And a sihlouette in the bright flicker of kaleidoscope seven year old sunlight-

"Holy bovine..." Garfield blinked, and the sight of the lobby instantly returned. "Zoey. You know, don't you? You know what that was all about-?"

"Snkkt—Cyborg! Robin here! We've got trouble!"

"DAH!" Beast Boy nearly fell off the winding staircase. Frowning, he pocketed the sheet of images away and removed the communicator form his uniform's rear pocket. "Uhhh—Hello? Surprise Buttpage?" He was about to flick the thing on and protest when-

"Cyborg here. What gives-?"

"We have an attacker! Somewhere in the building!"

Beast Boy's heart froze. He glanced all around the lobby, heart palpating to think that he may have overlooked an obvious intrusion. But as his nostrils flared and his animal senses kicked into high gear, he realized that nothing was possibly awry—and even if it was, surely his better instincts would have been vigilant enough to have tracked it.

"Dude..." He scratched his emerald scalp, murmuring confusedly into the communicator. "...hao in the wide world of sports do you know that-?"

Robin's voice hissed back through the electronic feed: "No time! Cyborg, you've got the eye! Scan all around you on multiple wavelengths!"

"I swear to God...if someone's trying to take out Maddie-"

"Snkkt—It isn't Madeline! It's-"

Raven's voice firmly throated over the comminucation: "Front in center!"

Beast Boy's sharp ears pricked. "... ... ...!" He sensed it. He smelled it. The foreign element. He jumped down from his perch—plop!-and bolted over towards the double doors, kicking them open. WHAM! He froze in place, just in time to see—with wide and twitching eyes—the bright pulsing glow of a hot projectile flying from the ceiling and towards a helpless audience member in the crowd below.

Someone who smelled just like Kensuke Kobayashi...but not for long-

"Awwwwwwwwww Costner." Beast Boy mumblingly cursed, ears deflating.

"Dammit—NO!" Cyborg's form futiley leapt from the backstage-