Disclaimer: The Teen Titans aren't mine.

The Demon, The Witch, And The Ghost—Chapter Twenty-One

Jinx wasn't sure what was more frustrating as she walked into the quiet, dim chapel with her friends… The constant, under-the-breath grumbling of Gizmo (who'd been forced to wear a rather ring-bearer-like tux, along with his trademark goggles), the louder complaints of Mammoth (whom they'd had to get a tux custom made for out of a tent's worth of fabric), the abrupt—and somewhat scary—mood swings of Shimmer, from pissed to sobbing and back again… or finally, the pounding, dull ache in her own head.

After much careful persuasion, they'd convinced Shimmer it would be in the best respect to their parents to dress nicely; thus, the normally punkish looking girl was dressed in a dark violet backless dress, covering all but one or two tattoos.

Jinx, on the other hand, was wearing a slim-cut black dress with long sleeves and a skirt that reached to her ankles, concealing the fact that she (just like the other three, as a matter of fact) had her normal clothes on under the funeral-attire. After being as used to wearing one thing as they were, it would have felt strange NOT to have their usual stuff on, even if concealed.

Their footsteps echoed throughout the small, plain hallway of the chapel where the funeral was to be held. It didn't help Jinx's head in the least bit, though she tried to ignore it. For some reason, she just felt very awkward about this whole thing—it'd seemed like the proper thing to do at the time, but… what was everyone else going to think when they saw her and Gizmo, who weren't even related, or even friends with the deceased?

'You're a fine one to be thinking about what people are gonna think of you.' She snapped mentally; the headache even had her grumpy at herself, at this point.

"Is there gonna be food at this thing…?" Mammoth bent over and whispered to Gizmo, careful not to let Shimmer hear. "I'm starvin', here…"

"Only because you slept through breakfast." Gizmo said, shrugging. "I dunno if there's gonna be food or not…"

"It's still so hard to believe they're gone…" Shimmer said dully, thankfully not in a violent mood right now. Unfortunately, utter misery seemed to have taken the place of violence, leaving her an aching shell of her usual self. But considering her parents, whom she'd always been so fond of, had just died; one couldn't blame her.

"……" Mammoth hesitated to say anything, because his sister's volatile nature made even the most well-meaning statement liable to provoke a ranting tirade. After carefully considering his choice-of-words, he spoke up. "Well… they got a nice chapel, and the two of us comin' to see 'em. What more could we have given 'em?"

"Nothing, I guess…" Was Shimmer's dull reply. She suddenly turned her head to look at him with an eagle-eye. "Are you sure you're not hungry? You haven't eaten anything since last night!" She chided.

Mammoth groaned. Why did she have to bring up food…? Hungry as he was, though, the last thing she needed to worry about was him; she was under enough stress as it was. "Nah… I'm fine."

… The awkward silence was broken by a loud, gurgling rumble that reverberated like an earthquake out of Mammoth's gut, prompting a sweatdrop from Jinx and Gizmo, as well as an annoyed anime-vein from Shimmer.

"… Well… I thought I was." Mammoth grunted evasively.

"We'll get you something to eat after this is over with, I promise." Shimmer cooed, her mannerism abruptly changing from depressed to downright motherly when she patted Mammoth's gargantuan hand as though he were an overgrown toddler. He rolled his eyes but said nothing.

… They kept walking on, making their way through the quaint chapel… there was something chilling about its stained glass windows depicting scenes such as the manger, Moses and the ten commandments, among others… these pleasant little pictures, with their color and warmth, made a disturbing contrast with the dull gray bricks of the wall and the dour gargoyles and suits of armor arranged in rows, scowling and standing at attention rather unnervingly… all of these things, on top of the silence, made it just… downright creepy.

Jinx looked upon the armor suits, polished and, just by way of appearance, very cold… her headache began to deaden and fade a bit, much to her relief, and she found herself dwelling upon more pleasant things… other things that were armored and cold…

She sighed as she remembered Zero's rather forlorn look as he'd watched them take off… he had, of course, offered to come with her, but Jinx had insisted he stay, in case he was needed—and besides, she didn't think someone such as Sub-Zero would be much welcome at the funeral anyway. Still, she couldn't wait to see him again.

The door into the main altar of the church was neatly cleaned and shiny, though it still didn't detract from the overall detachedness of the place. Slowly, Jinx reached out and pushed it open—holding it open for the others as they went through.

… The entire room was empty. Not so much as a soul there, although… the two coffins, one black the other ivory and both sitting on the ground, made it clear that this was definitely the right place.

The sight of these caskets had a strange effect on Mammoth and, more notably, Shimmer.

Although Mammoth simply grunted and looked away as though interested in a nearby mosaic of the crucifixion on the wall, it was clear he was affected—even if only a bit—by the sight.

… Shimmer on the other hand stared blankly for a few moments… then, she stumbled forward and slowly got on her knees, putting her face in her hands quietly.

Jinx, hesitating a moment but deciding ultimately it was needed, walked over and knelt with Shimmer, putting a hand on the matter-transmuter's shoulder and patting it lightly.

Gizmo made his way over to Mammoth and started up a conversation concerning, not really anything in particular… it was more just to break the silence than anything.

Jinx, helping the distraught Shimmer over to a row of pew-benches, sighed. It seemed the only thing to do now… was wait for anyone else to get here.

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"… Hey Speedy…"

Snores.

"… Speedy…"

Loud snores.

"…. Dammit. SPEEDY!"

The sound of someone being kicked in the gut, followed by an 'oof!' and a body tumbling from a sofa.

Aqualad groaned in exhasperation when said archer scrambled to his feet in a stupor, looking positively drunken. "Huh… what… Where?"

"You've been asleep hours now. You have to wake up; we have to make a good impression on the applicants!" The teenaged Atlantean snapped.

Speedy blinked, yawning. "… Applicants…?"

Aqualad slapped his forehead.

"Bumblebee said the Job Interviews for Titans East were today. That means heroes interested in positions are gonna be coming—how many, I dunno, but ANY is enough reason for us to look and act our best!" He said vexedly. "… Didn't Bee tell you all this already?"

Speedy slicked back his hair and nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, yeah, I got it… look good. Behave. How hard can it be?"

Aqualad's eyebrow arched in a sharp angle. "… You Really want me to answer that?"

Suddenly, two squeaky voices in unison… "QUE PASA?"

Aqualad and Speedy jumped a collective five feet or so into the air with rather feminine squeals, right before slamming back down and staring bemusedly at the short Spanish teens before them.

"Mas… Menos… Don't sneak up on us like that…." Aqualad groaned, pulling himself up right.

"Yeah. You scared the crap out of us, you little Nimrods!" Speedy snarled.

Mas blew a loud raspberry, and shouted tantingly: "Que Lastima, Estupido!" And with a flash and a blur, he was gone. "Si! Que Lastima, Estupido!" Menos added, and with that he was gone.

Aqualad groaned and heaved himself upright. "I swear… short Hispanics with shorter attention spans…"

"Yeah, well… they're still smarter than you two, when you get down to it." Bumblebee, just coming into the room with an amused smirt, added.

Speedy rubbed his head, wondering vaguely if the two successive falls in the last few minutes were going to leave a bump. "Yeah, All right…" He said rolling his eyes. "… How many people are coming today?"

"Well… of all the invitations I sent out, there were five responses." She said thoughtfully. "None of them were signed though, so I'm not sure who to expect…"

A pause.

"……… Well…? What are you guys waiting for? We gotta get this place cleaned up before they get here!"

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The sudden, shrieking sound of rubber against floor signified that a pair of wheels had been kicked into sudden motion in the garage of Titans Tower. Even as far off as several floors up, one could clearly smell the distinct fragrance of engine oil and gasoline exhaust, though they put it off to Smoke practicing with his self-styled, "chainsaw-Fu".

… In reality, the souped up Motorcycle Smoke had so thoughtfully (and yet, so ludicrously) given to Blackfire as a present, was now careening headlong across the expanse of the garage, spitting out puffs of exhaust and leaving a black streak of speed-burn across the metal floor, though it faded shortly after the super-heated tires left its surface, resulting in a trail not unlike a slug would leave—though much faster, however.

Blackfire was, although an adrenaline junkie and more-than-used to high speeds due to past experience with both spaceships and her own flights, very unnerved by this wacky joyride, especially whenever Smoke—whom she was clinging onto for dear life—would laugh and rev up the motor before taking a sharp turn.

"Hang on; we're gonna do a wheelie!" He shouted over the din of the thundering engine to the clinging alien behind him.

She blinked and yelled back, trying her best not to allow the noise of the machine to deafen her. "A what?"

"A wheelie!" He repeatedly loudly so as to be clearly heard this time. "We're gonna go up on one wheel!"

… She took a split second to process what he'd just said, and her eyes bugged out. But before she could protest, she suddenly found herself squealing most uncharacteristically as he gave a swift tug and leaned them back, so that her long sheet of hair fanned out behind them and almost touched the ground.

"Smo-OOOOOOOOKE!" She screamed, holding on tightly. She looked down out of the corner of her eye and could literally see colored sparks shooting off behind them as the metal tip of the wheel-covering lightly brushed the ground below them. It was both beautifully alarming and alarmingly beautiful.

"YEEEEEEEEEH-HAAAAAAAAAAAW! Heheheheheheheh!" Smoke, however, was much less stressed by the maneuver than his alien paramour, and noticeably so. "Aw, come on Baby! Just lighten up! It's ain't no worse than a roller-coaster!"

She rolled her eyes. "Smoke… for X'hal's sake, people DIE on roller coasters!"

"Eh… Nobody's perfect!" Smoke shouted back cheerfully, stomping the pedal again and bringing them back on two wheels as they hit 100 Miles-per-Hour.

She was relieved—for about three seconds. Because just as they hit both Wheels to the ground, he leaned forward and brought it up one again—the FRONT one this time.

"What about it? Think you can get the hang of one of these?" He called over the shoulder to her as they rolled along on the front end.

Blackfire, rapidly becoming used to the ride, nodded. "Sure… I might know better if someone would let me TRY." She pouted playfully.

"Hahah… Sure. But one thing first—I'm gonna freak Cy out a little bit. At least I would if he were here…" He turned his head to look at a wooden beam that happened to be propped against the front hood of the T-Car… and jerked the bike, hauling ass towards the makeshift ramp at top speed—that is, 130 MpH this time.

Blackfire braced herself, grabbing hold to Smoke's black-leather biker jacket and digging in with her nails, holding tightly there.

BAM!

The bike jerked itself upwards at a sharpened angle as it hit the ramp, eventually tilting skywards and flying off into the air precariously as it made a wide, sweeping arc over the T-Car; the vehicle's weight caused a deep humming sound in the air as it whipped about in chaotic flight…

…For a brief moment, time itself seemed to slow to a crawl, life playing out in slow-motion, preserving the saucer-wide eyes and wide-open mouth of Blackfire, and the triumphant smirk plastered upon Smoke's visage…

… Then, with a metal crash, it hit the ground perfectly on both Wheels and kept going as though absolutely nothing at all had even happened.

The bike came screeching to a halt, not damaged a bit by its wild antics and still glittering in all its glory even as steam wafted from its tires and the smell of exhaust clogged the air.

"So… where are we gonna take this thing?" Blackfire asked. "… For me to learn to drive it?"

Smoke cocked his head and grinned, saying in mock confusion: "… Take it? … The hallways'll do just fine, thank you."

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Cyborg moved the tool he held with such grace, such carefully-calculated knowledge, and such fearful caution, that the expression upon his sweaty brow must've closely resembled that of Michealangelo painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. His brows knit with concentration, his metal hand devoid of the slightest shake, he gripped his tool tightly with all the seriousness an artist might grip a brush or as a sculptor might grip a chisel.

… Where is the fine line between a practical invention and a work of art? … By what means can man take a stone, a bottle of paint, or a slab of metal, and imbue it with the spark that would make it something more—something its own? Cyborg, for the last several weeks, had striven to find the answers.

It had all started out simply, with the most mundane of causes and the most innocuous of places. Cyborg, being the slightly Obsessive-compulsive neat-freak that he was, had come into Beast Boy's room to challenge his small green friend to a friendly bout of video games. While in there, he noticed the particularly sloppy mess present in B.B.'s room. He started to comment upon it, but decided not to; B.B. was an animal of habit, quite literally, and Cy knew he'd never clean it.

As the day had progressed, he couldn't stop himself. Everywhere he went, he saw something out of its place, some stain upon a wall or floor, some tiny flaw in an otherwise beautiful spot. And he began pondering someway to correct this without having to resort to more menial labor for anyone.

… For a while he'd tinkered with various ideas, all of which quite ingenious and unique in their own right. Mechanized brooms… self-propelled vacuums… auto-sorting laundry baskets… he'd done it all; it had been successful, as well. However, the novelty of these things faded very quickly, invariably leading him to pursue something more efficient to the task.

Flipping through a book of artwork—more specifically, classical paintings and portraits—that had belonged to Raven was what eventually provided the answer. … There, on a random page he didn't even remember, had been a full portrait of a young cleaning lady, clad in the traditional black-and-white French-Maid attire, dusting off the mantle of a grand old fireplace with a feather duster.

… Inspiration strikes from unexpected places, and one idea leads to another. He realized with a sudden jolt that a maid would solve all their problems, and they were readily affordable. But…

… It was too easy. Picking up the phone and dialing a maid-service… there was no challenge in that; besides, this was a problem Cy had taken upon himself to solve. So… why waste money on what you can make?

… He had gotten caught up in this project, just like all his others, before he even realized what he was doing. The materials practically seemed to take care of themselves; indeed, he didn't even remember where he had gotten half of the things used, too consumed in his fervor to notice or give concern.

And now, the final product, agonizingly close to completion—and yet so lacking and needing to be finished with the last, key components—stood, not sat or laid but stood, before him in all its technological, as well as artistic achievement.

… There stood in front of him, a construction of reinforced steels, depleted uranium, and various trace-metals, along with the best-quality wiring, circuitry and advanced software money could buy, filled to the brim with an astounding number of devices that a layman might simply refer to as 'lights and clockwork'—all encased in a frame just barely hitting the five feet tall level.

… One would have never known that so much as an ounce of metal had gone into its construction. The practical, more scientific view just presented contrasts sharply with the artistic, plain view the eye might give of Cyborg's newest creation.

There stood a small girl, upright at an at-attention position with eyes closed and a faint smile spread across her face. Dark skin, the rich and shadowy tones of which one might see in a person of Arabian descent, clashed with a strangely surreal strawberry-cream colored hair—that is to say, whitish with a soft pinkish-red tint—decorated her small frame, her hair gathered into two long ponytails straight down her back. She wore bright blue robes in watery tones and hues, with similar colors such as greens, teals, etc. acting as trim and adornment; her youthful face showed a teenaged visage.

The robes, rather like a priestess or sorceress, were not the traditional baggy and puffed-out styles one usually sees; rather, they were small and clingy, almost skintight, and they gave a definite impression of her small sleek shapeliness and stunningly flawless proportions. They reached down to her ankles, where they stopped in a lacy trim. Her dainty feet, still as darkly tanned as the rest of her, wore small simple sandals that seemed to glimmer like gold, along with thick white socks.

… In short, the object before him was either a girl or a machine; it was indecisive either way. However, as far as this story is concerned the word 'she' shall be used as opposed to 'it' from this point on; such was the amazing life that had been breathed into her appearance.

So close… yet so far. She'd keep the tower clean; this Cyborg knew for a fact. She would perform her intended function perfectly; there was no doubt whatsoever. But… during the course of her design, Cyborg had inevitably begun to wonder… if she could be made to be, for all intents and purposes…

… Real.

Could she be made to live?

He drew in a deep breath and wiped his half-metal brow. It was almost time to find out…

…

…

…

…

"There have always been ghosts in the machine - random segments of code that have grouped together to form unexpected protocols. Unanticipated, these free radicals engender questions of free will. Creativity. And even the nature of what we might call the soul.

Why is it that when some robots are left in darkness, they will seek out the light? Why is it that when robots are stored in an empty space, they will group together, rather than stand alone? How do we explain this behavior? Random segments of code? Or is it something more?

When does a perceptual schematic become consciousness? When does a difference engine become the search for truth? When does a personality simulation become the bitter mote of a soul? "

--Dr. Alfred Lanning; 'I, Robot'

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Ghost sat slumped over sleepily onto Raven's shoulder, staring at the array of little letters before him. What was of more interest, however, was the pictures. Seeing as how she was going to be reading to him, she chose a bit of the book that was illustrated as well as written… between what Raven read aloud and the black-and-white drawings, he gleaned all he needed to know.

"And so, the sculptor Pygmalion, the finest in all of Ancient Greece, was destined to fall in love with the beautiful feminine statue of ivory that he had created…" Raven's voice, lulling and gentle, read aloud with surprising feeling. "…She looked such like a real girl, that he was helpless with lovesickness. He brought her gifts of food, clothing, jewels, and made several times as if to caress her, but alas, she remained cold and still. The goddess of Love, Aphrodite, saw his suffering and took pity. She brought the statue to life, and the two were wed soon after…"

Ghost sighed. "… Such a strange story. But… so romantic, nevertheless."

Raven nodded. "It is. But then, so many of the Greek myths are strange… this one seems normal compared to some of the others."

"I see…" He said slowly. "…… It must have been all the wine they drank…"

"Maybe." Raven said with a smile and something akin to a small laugh. "… Or then, maybe they weren't strange; maybe they were just… different."

For a brief moment, their eyes met, the two pairs of orbs (or one-and-a-half, depending on how you look at it) locking onto each other without so much as a blink. Slowly, very hesitantly, their faces began moving ever-so-subtly towards one another, eyes closing…

… Abruptly, there was a sudden rumbling noise, coming from somewhere below them, the shaking of a thousand rattles or the banging of a thousand drums. The very room itself, possibly even the whole of the entire Tower trembled upon the Earth it was rooted in.

And just as their eyes opened with surprise, it happened.

It was like a flash. Raven saw nothing but a sudden outburst of fragments and debris that blew her back with a cry, the floor exploding into an opening and something shooting out in a titanic arc, and one blurred flash of dark blackish-green scales. When she moaned, pulling herself up…

… Ghost was gone. There was a large hole torn in the floor where he'd been sitting.

She screamed and scrambled forward, peering down…

… Something had torn through several floors, so far that you could see a pool of water far down below like a pinprick… though, in reality, it was a flooded underground cavern of some sort… presumably where the waters surrounding the Tower flowed into a natural cave-system down there… but at the moment, none of this was of particular concern to Raven.

"What? … Ghost!" … No answer. "… GHOST!"

… A reply this time, but not human.

…… From somewhere below, a grotesque, animalistic noise… a snarling, hissing, low growl that gurgled and wheezed, echoing up through the 'tunnel'… it was rather similar to the roar of the lion, spliced with some sort of shark or whale's gurgle… it sent chills up her back.

… Abruptly, a blast of water spurted upwards with a sickening belch, a wretching hacking gag as though from something's mouth, and she was knocked backwards by the force, as though hit by a geyser.

… And along with it, Ghost was spit up into the room looking slightly stunned, but otherwise unharmed.

… The room itself began to shake, things falling from the walls and dust shaken from the ceiling in low clouds… powerful roars again echoed from the abyss below as Raven stumbled over to Ghost, who sat up with a groan.

"Ghost! Oh God… Ghost!" She sat down next to him, helping him up. "Are you all right? What WAS That?"

"Something… grabbed me. Pulled me down into that hole, spit me back up…" He groaned, even as the said 'something snarled and screeched louder.

Abruptly, a shape, pushing up part of the floor along with it, slithered through the gaping hole.

… It was a monstrous serpent, bubbles and steam wafting from its huge slit-like nostrils and red eyes blazing like fiery cannonballs in gaunt sockets. It's head, even though scaly and obviously reptilian, had the shape and jaw structure one might liken to a wild hound or large dog—a snout with deep jaws lined with fangs and teeth… the body snaked outwards, covered in slick black-green scales that dripped with water and seemed to glimmer for no real reason.

"Oh… Azar…" Raven stammered softly, pulling herself back—Ghost doing likewise, but too scared to say anything at all, though he spread his wings as though to shield her.

… As if to respond, the creatures hissed in a guttural tone, gurgling and spitting bubbles again… and spread wings of its own, stretching out from its very skin—sickly pale greenish wings, lined with bones and toxic looking barbs, striped through-and-through with veins and silver rings. They extended so far as to touch both ends of the room as its seemingly boneless body stretched and slithered and crawled closer, and closer, eyes burning with evil hatred.

The fierce red orbs of its eyes seemed to have a mind-numbing quality… the two demons sat quivering on the floor, virtually paralyzed with fear and not able to move; they were locked in some morbid trance.

The huge pierced and scaly wings flapped violently, knocking over several things in the room and pushing them back a bit… They clung to each other, not able to move as the creature opened its mouth—revealing row behind row upon row next to row of jagged, crooked, razor sharp shark-like fangs, all yellowed with age, stained with blood, dripping with deadly venoms and toxins…

The mouth opened up, clicking and snapping hideously as it unhinged and stretched, coming to a size that could swallow a small boat whole; its nose scraped the ceiling and its chin dragged the floor… it slunk closer to them, both of them struggling to move, to cry out, to do anything, but… unable; they were cursed with some disabling power, the wicked stare of the beast.

…. A blur of red, gold, and green; a metallic clang; an anguished screech and a yell of human rage. And within moments, the creature had squirmed back below into its domain, disappearing completely from view.

As Raven and Ghost sat up, groaning and feeling a sudden sensation of freedom—as though they'd just been released from a tight grip—they looked over to see what had driven off the sea monster that had so suddenly attacked them.

Robin stood there with his staff, looking down the hole. Upon seeing them get up, he rushed over to them and asked, "Raven… Ghost! What was that thing? Are you all right?"

Raven hesitated for a moment, and put a hand on Ghost's shoulder. "Yeah… I think…… we're fine…"

Ghost was pale and shaky, badly startled by the happenings; even more so than the other two in the room. He took a couple of deep breaths and nodded weakly. "… That thing… the way it was… glaring at us, we couldn't even move; it was like its eyes… were paralyzing."

Robin's gaze softened. "… Are you sure the two of you are ok? Between the way the others were earlier, now this…"

A shrill roar like a wild animal echoed from deep below.

"… We have to go warn the others." Robin said, sighing grimly. "I don't know what this thing is, but… it could be back at any time."

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Man, it's been a while since I updated huh? Hopefully I'll get to update again this weekend. I can't wait to finish this fic and start on the next; it's got me pumped.

So finally, we know what Cyborg's been working on, Leviathan—the second of Trigon's big three archfiends—has made his appearance, and Jinx, Gizmo, Mammoth, and Shimmer are in a tough situation—if only they knew what was in store!

Anyway… If you liked the chapter, PLEASE review. I love to get reviews, and they're really the lifeblood that keeps many authors going. On that note, I'd like to thank anyone that's ever reviewed the fic in the past, including:

Metal Overlord 2.0—an excellent author and even better friend…

Chromedragozoid—whom I regret I have minimal time to read his long and epic fic in…

Hotshot 45—whose name I apologize for misspelling the last time I mentioned him…

Twilight Soul Taker, who harasses me until I update and provides a wondrous source of inspiration…

Gan-Chan who supports my endeavors and helps me with ideas…

Meiriona—whose fics provide an excellent source of ideas for the character of Jinx, who is admittedly tough to write…

Blackmage77—who's been reading my stuff for a long time now…

Adaiakrow, who inevitably comes up with the greatest scene concepts and character ideas…

Rakhan, who's read and supported my fics for a long time as well…

Von Rhettenstein who gives lots of praise to my fics and is a moral booster of the highest degree…

Suicide Buddha, who is a great supporter of my fics…

Storm-of-Rage, who is very encouraging and heartening in his reviews, and finally…

… Anyone else who has ever read so much as a word of this fic. Without readers, even the greatest writer would be nothing at all.

I look forward to updating again soon, and—as always—read and review!

---Count-Le-Madphantom…