Hey everybody! Well, here's the latest chapter. I'm sure I'll have lots of typos to hunt later, but for now, at least I'm getting this up. The hiatus is officially over!

So, to summarize: Seymour doesn't know how to shut up, Billy's a miserable rich kid, Herald has anger issues, Argent is oblivious, Elliot is being used like a bus, Jericho is a space case, Jinx has lost it, Montego's getting pissed, Vito's worried, Xilo is just trying to keep Montego downstairs, Johnny just wants to get himself and Rocky out of the Tower before things invariably blow up, and Wally is emo. Enjoy!

And hey, does anybody know what's up with the weird spacing format on here now?

It Sucks

"That sneaky son of a bitch!" Herald punched the elevator wall.

"Don't do that," Argent chided him. "Cyborg will get angry."

"I'm angry!" Herald snapped. "That kid was bad enough, but that alien guy…God, he just exuded smug. It was disgusting!"

Jericho, from where he had seated himself on the floor of the elevator, shrugged.

"Look, the sooner we get out of here, the sooner you can go on your little crusade, alright?" said Argent. "Now pull out that horn of yours and transport us!"

Herald reached back to the loop of his belt where his horn usually hung, and said, "It's not there."

Argent stared at him. "What?"

Herald shook his head, bewildered. "I don't have it…I must have lost it when we crashed or something, maybe it's back at the boat…"

"Well, I can't smash my way out of this contraption! Cyborg would kill me!"

Jericho reached over and pinched their legs for their attention. He signed, Perhaps it would be easier to wait for the ride to be over.

Argent sighed and slid down next to him. "I hate elevators."

"Forget that, man, I'm calling Robin. This HIVE stuff has gone far enou--" Herald cut himself off as he reached into his pocket and realized his communicator was gone. He looked to Argent. "There's no way I lost that in the crash too!"

Argent giggled. "Oh, Seymour probably took it. He got a hold of my wallet earlier."

"Don't you have your communicator?" Argent shook her head, and Herald turned to Jericho pleadingly.

Jericho signed, I never carry that thing around.

"WHY NOT? HOW ELSE ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KEEP IN CONTACT WITH--"

"USE YOUR INSIDE VOICE!" Argent screamed, and then added, "Please. It's very cramped in here."

Herald took a deep, calming breath and sat down between Argent and Jericho. Jericho poked him and smiled teasingly, and Herald was forced to smirk back.

"It's weird how they're all showing up again," He finally said.

"I assumed they were going to stay under the radar for good, personally," Argent put in. "They've been out for ages, and not a hint of crime until now. But I suppose we all have to make a living."

"A living," Herald snorted. "Some living."

"I've been thinking about it though, and I don't know what else they could do."

"They could be honest."

Jericho shook his head. Argent shrugged. "We're lucky, if you think about it. You've got your little dimension, and I've got…well, I had my family."

"Until they dumped you on your ass," Herald snorted.

"I dumped them," Argent pronounced grandly. A little softer, she added, "And we get along better now, so it's okay."

"Well, lucky you," Herald said, but not too sarcastically. "Having a base is good. Huh, kid?" He nudged Jericho, who nodded.

"Well, I want my own base," said Argent. "I thought Robin said he was working on some new scheme to regroup and redistribute. It's been months. He's taking forever."

"Why does he have to take care of all that, anyway?" Herald asked. "I mean, no offense. I respect the guy. But I've always done my own thing. I like it that way."

"But a team would be fun."

"So let's pick our own teams," Herald grumbled.

"But then it would be disorganized and messy, and Robin would go ballistic," Argent tittered. "He's funny. I could watch him on television and never get bored."

Herald leaned back against the wall and sighed. "But what good are the Titans if we're all just staying here in Jump? There are other places to be."

"Yes, but we have you and Raven for teleportation, and so many other modes of transport," Argent pointed out. "If we wanted, we could probably stay here forever."

Herald frowned. "I don't like California. It's too hot."

Argent giggled, and the conversation promptly died, until Herald mustered up the energy to whine, "How many more stops do you think we've got to go?"

He pushed a lot of buttons, Jericho signed.

At that moment, a skinny, pale kid with dark hair and red eyes appeared next to them, and Argent pounced on him, knocking him flat.

"Elliot!" She squealed. "Wherever did you disappear to?"

Herald and Jericho glared at Elliot, who returned the look in kind.

"Your horrible friend played this prank on us," Argent continued, keeping Elliot pinned down by sitting on his torso, "And we've been stuck in here for quite some time. Would you be a dear and help us out?"

Elliot tried to sign to her that she was crushing his lungs, but she paid no attention.

"And I must talk to you about your friend Seymour, because he apparently has a reputation as…what was the phrase your horrible friend used? A "total scammer"? What does that even mean?"

Elliot glanced pleadingly at Herald and Jericho, but they shrugged as if to say, "What do you want us to do about it?" Snarling, he pushed Argent off his chest and she landed neatly on her bum. He crawled away from her, gasping slightly, and she giggled.

"Oh, was I hurting you? I'm so sorry!"

Elliot glared half-heartedly at her.

"I am sorry," Argent repeated, smiling endearingly at him. "But please teleport us somewhere else." Herald and even Jericho were also looking to him hopefully.

Elliot sighed.

The game plan had been revised several times: first when the group of them, being Cyborg, Punk Rocket, Johnny Rancid, Billy Numerous, and See-More, reached the common room to find Raven and her brood watching the Lion King, and Cyborg having to employ drastic tactics to distract Seymour from crying foul on Walt Disney for abusing the African culture to make his points about World War II. The second revision happened when Johnny declared that he was no longer interested in following the parade, and dragged Rocky off so they could drive to a La-Z-Boy to pick up new furniture, "The honest way," He assured Cyborg. The third revision happened when Cyborg received a call from Robin demanding that he come up and explain what the business about the "communicator recall" was, because he had left every concerned Titan hanging.

And so it passed that Seymour and Billy were locked in the communications room, unsupervised, and under the promise that if they dared mess with his systems Cyborg would not hesitate to force-feed them pig's feet and worse, because God knew they needed the sustenance anyway.

Seymour grabbed a rolling chair and began unloading wallets and Titan communicators from various folds and pockets within his clothing. He sorted the items into neat, organized piles according to their owners, and began rifling through each one, murmuring details to himself as he went.

"What sucks about these communicators," He announced eventually, "is that they are in no way personalized. I don't even think the Titans can choose ringtones, dudes. That's got to be an infringement 

on American rights or something." He flipped open Roy's wallet and whistled. "Man, that's one awesome fake ID…"

Billy rolled his eyes and pulled out another cigarette. "When're we leaving?"

"Soon as Montego gives up and leaves. But first I got to give all these back."

"What for?"

"My integrity."

"Freak."

"Masochist. Put that thing out."

Billy scowled and stubbed out his cigarette on his thumb.

"YOU!" Someone behind them boomed. They turned, and realized that it was every screen in the communications room featuring Control Freak. "GREETINGS TITANS! Number one nemesis, biggest fan, blah blah blah, you know how this goes. As I was saying!" Control Freak jumped, gesturing dramatically at Billy, "YOU!"

Billy sighed. "Hi, Alex."

"HOW DARE YOU!"

"I was going to return your copy of Die Hard soon, but--"

"Dude, I don't care about the stupid DVD!" Alex, apparently, snapped. "You rich bitch, has-been SLUT!"

Billy narrowed his eyes. "Pardon?"

"You have committed the worst hate crime ever EVER."

"You say that like it's news," Seymour chirped, sticking his tongue out at Billy when the other boy glared at him.

"You killed Allen Pontes!" Alex cried.

"I killed who?"

"Actually, Alex, there's been a lot of confusion this morning," Seymour cut in. "Billy didn't--"

"You KILLED the greatest photographer of all time!" Alex continued to moan. He turned to Seymour. "Don't you remember? The Starfire pin-up in the July issue of Jump Monthly?"

Seymour gasped. "Oh my god. You are not serious. That guy was on my network! I had him on call for pictures, dude!" He turned to Billy and cried mockingly, "You KILLED Allen Pontes?"

"Exactly," Alex hissed. "So you know what, William? We're through. I am cutting off all contact. I'm never speaking to you again."

"Gee, that's too bad," Billy dead-panned.

"Chee-yah, it is! And guess what? See this?" Alex waved a DVD into the camera. "This is the latest bootleg I was going to give you. Well, guess what?" He broke the DVD in half, and then in half again. "Consider this the last bootleg I give you ever EVER. Get it? I QUIT YOU! And I hope you get fucking shot too, just like Brokeback Mountain! GOOD DAY, SIR!"

And the communication was cut.

Billy turned to Seymour, bewildered. "Tell me again why we let him hang out with us?"

"Because he makes freaking awesome bootlegs," Seymour grumbled.

Billy laughed. "Not anymore. Oh well."

"Um, no, actually. Not "oh well". You are going to call him back in two days, and get us back on track with those bootlegs," Seymour said seriously. "I refuse to buy movies, dude. Flat out. You are going to call him, and kiss up like there is no tomorrow."

"That's your job."

"Yeah, but he doesn't listen to me. He doesn't like me, God knows why not," Seymour added, truly confused. "I'm so likeable. I just don't get it."

"You're obnoxious. That's not likeable."

"It's endearing. People love me. You're just jealous."

"Ugh. Of what?"

"Of what indeed, notwithstanding the endless favors and adoration."

"You're a freak."

"It's in my genes." Seymour glanced at the clock. "How much longer are they going to take? Jeez."

At that moment, Elliot appeared with three guests: Argent, Herald, and Jericho. Argent and Herald pounced upon Seymour immediately. Jericho noticed something interesting on one of the computers and went off to investigate it.

"I've heard horrible things, but I want to hear your version first before I make judgments," Argent said as Herald, "You think you can get away from me by just pretending you don't know me, you little punk?"

Billy snorted. "Well, aren't you loved. Nice going, Evans."

"Shut your face, Jones," Seymour groaned.

Herald gasped dramatically as he saw the piles of personal items Seymour had laid out in front of him.

"You klepto!" Herald snapped, snatching back his communicator.

Seymour shrugged, "True, that." At Herald's ugly look, he held up his hands defensively. "No, it's true. I've been diagnosed and everything. It's a total condition, dude."

"Bullshit!" Herald sneered, but then Billy and Elliot coughed almost simultaneously behind his back. He turned back and stared at them incredulously. "No, seriously. It's just an excuse, right?"

Billy shook his head. "I have to keep my keys locked up. This one's worse," He hooked a thumb towards Elliot, "but that's just 'cause he's a brat. And where the hell have you been, anyway?" He added to the teleporter.

Elliot stuck his tongue out at him childishly.

"Someone called you a total scammer," Argent told Seymour. "What does that mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything; whoever told you that was just exaggerating."

"So what's the real deal?" Herald demanded.

Seymour beamed at him. "I ask someone nicely to do a favor, and they are so overcome by my good manners that they do it."

"Good manners," Herald sneered, going nose-to-nose with him. "How's this for good manners? Seeing some guy you fought and pretending you don't know who he is? Is that you're idea of good manners?"

Seymour blinked, and thought for a moment. "Well, I guess that depends on what you're talking about."

"What I'm talking about!" Herald snapped. "Man, give it up! We both know you're just clowning around."

Seymour laughed weakly. "Clowning about what?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you? We fought in the Brotherhood of Evil. You came to my dimension and attacked me!"

Seymour considered the idea, and said, "Doesn't much sound like me."

"Oh really? And what does sound like you?" Herald challenged.

"Um, running the hell away before you kill me," Seymour joked. "Combat isn't exactly my thing."

From the sidelines, Billy whispered to Argent, "Yeah, that's true. He's a total wimp."

"I can imagine that. I mean, he's so skinny," Argent agreed. "He barely has any muscle at all!"

"Hey!" Seymour snapped. "I can hear you over there!"

"What? We're only commenting on the truth," Billy said brightly. "You suck at combat. I've seen you."

Beside him, Elliot nodded enthusiastically.

"Fifty bucks says he kills you," Billy continued. "Anyone else up for bets?"

"Why bet on a sure thing?" asked Argent.

"Very funny," Seymour snarked at him.

"I'm sorry," She continued to Billy, ignoring Seymour and Herald as he continued to try to pick a fight with Seymour. "I don't believe we were properly introduced before. I am Toni Monetti." She held out her hand for him to shake.

He didn't take it. He eyed her carefully. "Monetti? Not Monetti as in…"

"The disgustingly rich Monettis of diamond mine fame, yes. I hope you won't think too badly of me for it," Argent said sweetly.

"It would be hypocritical if I did," Billy said sourly, and reluctantly shook her hand. "William Jones."

Argent gasped. "Not Jones as in the weapons of mass destruction, oil wells, fire-arms, Ku Klux Klan--"

"Yeah," Billy cut her off wearily. "Those Jones."

"My father absolutely despises your father," Argent said warmly. "I think we'll get along very well."

Billy snorted. "Sure. Whatever."

"Anyway, um," Seymour ducked away from Herald. "Elliot's here now, so we can go, dude."

Elliot looked up from the rolling chair he had become exceedingly comfortable in and scowled at Seymour, who raised his hands defensively.

"Dude! I've barely asked you for anything today! And the one time I did, you stood me up! Can I get a little friend-helping friend situation going on here, dude? Montego's gonna kill us!"

Elliot cocked his head to the side, as if to say, "What is this "us" of which you speak?"

Jericho suddenly appeared at Herald's side, tugging his sleeve insistently. With a last ugly look towards Seymour, he followed Jericho to the computer he had been playing with, and watched as Jericho began pointing to various parts of the screen. Argent drifted over to them, vaguely interested.

"If you're so tired, then why didn't you pick up some coffee while you were off doing…whatever you were doing?" Seymour demanded. Elliot had his eyes closed, feigning sleep, and was studiously ignoring him.

"I could use some coffee right about now," Billy put in moodily. "Black, black coffee…"

"I could use an Arabian Mocha Sanani with extra cream and sugar and cinnamon," Seymour said dreamily, then noticed that Billy was shaking his head. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," Billy reached over and shook Elliot's chair. "Rise and shine, kid, I wanna get out of here."

"Oh my god!" Argent cried. Elliot opened his eyes and stalked over to the screen that she, Herald, and Jericho were staring at.

"Yeah, now you get up," Seymour muttered and followed him, Billy close behind.

" 'The escape occurred at eight o'clock this morning,' " Herald read aloud. " 'Two guards were injured, and a large portion of the prison was destroyed. Inmates were successfully evacuated and accounted for…' Jesus."

"Who got out?" Seymour asked.

Herald turned and glared at him darkly. He pointed at the screen. "Friend of yours, maybe?"

Next to the report was a blurry shot of a pale old man with eyes pupil-less and completely black. The caption identified him as "The notoriously dangerous criminal Psimon".

The HIVE students exchanged looks, and finally Billy surmised their feelings with, "Well, this sucks."

They were ditching while they still could, Johnny told Rocky. Weird hero-villain ho-downs like that could only end in tragedy, or at least a night in jail.

"Sooner or later somebody would have gotten mad at Seymour for taking everybody's stuff," He added. "Little klepto."

"But he always returns that stuff," Rocky pointed out.

"What stuff?" A small voice piped up.

Rocky and Johnny looked behind them, and noticed that a small, scolwing child was staring up at them.

"Hi," said the small, scowling child.

"Hi," replied Johnny and Rocky uncertainly.

"I'm Timmy. Who are you?"

"Um…" Rocky tugged Johnny's sleeve, and whispered, "That's one of Raven's kids, right? From before? The Lion King movie?"

Johnny nodded. "Here," He gave Rocky his keys. "Go get the car started, I'll be down in a minute." Rocky ran off. He had always been fast, Johnny observed, for a skinny little kid.

"Hey, you," Timmy glared up at Johnny, and Johnny glared right back down at him. "I wanna know what killed Elvis."

Johnny blinked. Billy had asked him a question like this once, and he couldn't remember how he had answered. Well, he could; he had knocked Billy one over the head for being stupid, and then told him the answer. Something told Johnny that bopping this kid over the head would be a bad idea, but what did that mean for telling him the answer?

"I think that's something you should ask your…ask Raven," He said slowly.

"But she doesn't know."

Well, fuck it then.

"Elvis died because he made bad choices. You know what heroine is?" Timmy shook his head. "Well, it's something you're not going to be seeing for a long time, and you'd better not go looking for it. Anyway, he used too much, and it killed him. There was other stuff too, but that's all you really need to know."

"I thought a herring was a kind of fish."

"It is. Heroine is a kind of plant. You smoke it, or snort it, or whatever. But you won't be doing that until…until Raven says," Johnny finished badly.

"Oh." Timmy scrunched up his face in thought. "Okay. Thanks."

"Why don't you go back to Raven and the others," suggested Johnny.

"Okay. Bye."

Kids say the darndest things. Johnny shrugged to himself and headed for the door.

"Hey. Rancid."

Pantha was leaning on the adjacent wall, scowling at him.

"Hey. Random Mexican wrestler chick," Johnny replied.

"Who said you could talk to our kids?"

"Who said I couldn't?"

Pantha growled. "I'll let you off easy this time. But you watch it."

"Watch what? I could have told him where to find the stuff."

Pantha cracked her knuckles, and Johnny raised his hands defensively. "It's cool. I'm leaving."

"You'd better be."

A thought occurred to Johnny. "Out of curiosity, whose kids are they?"

"Raven's."

"Who is the dad?"

Pantha narrowed her eyes. "For right now, they are Raven's."

"Huh. You guys are gonna raise them and all?"

"That's none of your business."

"I'll bet." Johnny shook his head. "Child-rearing. Shit. So, you going to send them to a school? Are they ever going to meet other kids their age? Seriously, though."

"Get out!"

He shrugged, and left.

Or tried to, anyway. Montego and Xilo were rather blocking the exit.

"And then that's when I knocked his lights out," Xilo finished. "It was the only way to show them I was being serious about quitting and all."

Montego grunted. "And you just took off after that, huh?"

"Yeah. I don't know. There are some other places I was thinking about going to, but I just don't feel like it right now. I don't want to get involved in a billion things. So I came back here. Earth is the least complicated place I can think of."

"Well, that's nice," Montego said, "But I--"

"And I didn't tell you the best part!" Xilo interjected quickly. "I haven't heard a single word from Blackfire, which means that our relationship is going to remain platonic and uncomplicated."

"Is that a good thing?" Johnny interjected. "You two seemed pretty tight."

"We were," Xilo nodded, "But it was getting too complicated, with her career as a criminal and my not wanting to be involved. So we decided to keep things platonic between us."

Johnny shrugged. "Whatever floats yours." He turned to Montego. "Hey, man. Haven't seen you in a while."

"Where are the goddamn kids? I saw Rocky go out to the garage, but he was too freaked out to talk."

Johnny smirked. "Upstairs. Go easy on them. They're been behaving the whole time they've been here. They're scared enough of you already."

"I wish they were scared enough to not do shit in the first place," Montego growled.

"Yeah, well, you know how kids are."

"This one isn't," Montego pointed at Xilo, who tried to look innocent.

"Yeah, well…they feel bad. Deep down. Kind of. Jinx is around here somewhere, too…"

"Yeah, that's part of why I'm here," said Montego.

"Dude, I ought to warn you, she's kind of…" Johnny trailed off, not sure how to go about phrasing Jinx's physical change.

"Brainwashed?" Montego guessed.

"Uglier? I agree," Xilo crossed his arms.

"Ugly is not the word," Johnny frowned at the alien. To Montego, he said, "Look, if it's weird, just…don't feel bad. You're not the only one."

Montego shook his head. "Whatever. Vito's looking for her now."

And Vito had certainly found her.

He had lost track of how many flights they had gone up at this point, but the air pressure was changing little by little, so he guessed they were close to the top. Some of the structure had changed since the last time he had been in the Tower, and he made a mental note to text Seymour to make sure he was getting a good look at everything so Vito could take notes later.

Jinx hadn't said anything in about ten minutes. Vito personally hoped that would continue for a while.

Wally was somewhere on the other side of the Tower, feeling awful.

First of all, telling your girlfriend something unpleasant was never fun. It reminded him of the old days with Jinx before they had hooked up, when they fought and said unintentionally nasty thing to each other all the time. She about his ego, he about her weight. Their parents and the people they had met. People are stupid, she had told him, and good for absolutely nothing. They can't even help themselves.

Not that she had been able to help herself either.

And he had told her, you can help yourself by helping others. It may sound hypocritical to you, but at least people are getting helped.

So now he was a hypocrite.

Second of all, her old friends, each of which appeared to be very skilled in terms of revenge tactics and general smiting and being evil, were all grouped together in one building, and would probably tear him limb from limb when they found out he had made their baby girl cry. Because Jinx really had been crying, hadn't she? He hadn't imagined that, had he? It was hard to tell with her sometimes.

Third, he probably deserved it, so he would automatically let them if they ever found him.

Fourth…oh, God, just on a professional level, fourth was the worst. Wally knew what happened when the couple of a group started fighting. People took sides, and fought your battles for you, and told you why you were right to do this and wrong to do that, and analyzed your life like Dr. Phil. That was one of the reasons he and Jinx had refused an invitation to live in the Tower, because they liked their privacy.

Privacy…where was Jinx going to sleep? She'd always hated their overnights at the Tower, and he couldn't imagine leaving her alone at the apartment. He couldn't imagine leaving her alone, period. They had been so attached…

Well, that's half the problem, isn't it?

Wally groaned. He was a jerk boyfriend. Only jerk boyfriends left their girlfriends hanging to figure out their problems on their own.

Jinx used to get mad at him for chickening out during arguments. Now Wally wished he had tried harder to grow a little more spine.