A/N: So, again, it's been a while. I'm not giving up on this story. I swear. It just seems writing it has been slowing down. I've been concidering shorter chapters (around 5000 words), to update more frequently. Problem is that I fear not enough will happen within the chapters themselves to keep the story entertaining for you guys. I have a very 'beat-around-the-bush' way of describing things, and believe me, I'm working on that. Doing my best. But I'm afraid I'll always write and think like that at my core. Not sure how much I can really get rid of it. Have been trying for years.

Second problem is that I had some time off from work, just vacation. I'd been planning to use it, amongst other things, to write. But in the half of it, there was a death in the family. We spend a few days in the hospital before it happened and naturally, having some time off, I tried to help out with the arrangements that came after as much as I could. After that, I didn't feel like writing for a little while either.

I'd like to thank the reviewers of those who were so kind as to leave a comment since the last update. They really helped lift my spirits.

J-Rob95, thank you for your comment. Glad to hear you kept on reading. Here's to hoping I can keep that curiosity going.

Jimmy1201, Thank you so much for reviewing the last two chapters. I'm so happy to see you still reading the story. They were great comments, and I especially laughed at the Chtulhu bid. Thanks Jim, you are awesome.

PsychoNinjaWolf, I'm so very glad you dropped your two cents. I really like Barbara as a character too. (With the only exception being the '97 film incarnation. And I'm steering clear from that one! I hope.) Good to hear you liked the start of the final arc. I hope this keeps you into it.

JasonVUK, Thank you for reviewing the last two chapters, just like Jimmy. I guess nobody mourns the Nazi, huh? :p And you and me both, regarding the big boy. I'm not a big gun-nut. I don't think I would ever want one in my house. But there are some I really want to fire someday, at a range or something. Anyways, loved your replies. Keep 'em coming. :)

RPGPersona, I just simply loved your in depth comment. What ties David to the forest is a good question... Also, I think I tried to tell you, but they are not after the spear yet, but the horn. You pointed it out in the epilogue of the second arc and I'd thought I'd replaced the word 'spear' with 'horn' before uploading. But your reply made it clear I hadn't. It was a mistake on my end, and you helped me fix it afterward. For which, again, I owe you my gratitude. Thank you. Also glad you found it interesting. Hope you'll enjoy it further down the line.

Guest, Thank you for your kind words. I really enjoyed the comment and am glad you like the story. Hope you like this chapter too.

Kebab, Also thanks for your comment. Do you know guest? :p Your comment came like a minute after. If you happen to be guest, I appreciate the multitude of comments left, but you need not feel obligated to send multiple. If not and this story is being read by multiple people behind the same computer, I feel only more honored. Thank you either way, regardless.

Her, Thank you for your comment. It is truly appreciated. I'd refer to the above thanks to Kebab. As yours came minutes after that one. If this is just a big coincidence, please don't be offended or anything. I appreciate your words either way and thank you from the bottom of my heart for them.

Lufthansa, At the fear of repeating myself, I must refer to my replies to Guest, Kebab and Her. Again, if this is some coincidence, don't mind me. And either way I am most gratefull for your words. Anyways, sorry for the long update wait. I really am sorry. I hope you like the chapter. And again, thanks!

Justsomeotherguy, Thank you man! Back with a vengeance, love it. Thank you for your kick-ass reply. Good to hear you like it and are still reading. My apologies for my slow pace. Enjoy!

Whoelsebutme11, We've talked to PM, but I just want to thank you again for your reply left. Sorry for the insomnia, man. :p No but seriously, your kind words mean a lot to me. Thank you so much for them. I'm so glad you enjoyed it so far. I hope you'll continue to do so.

Mag2K, I really want to thank you for that reply. I feel like you put time and effort into it. And that means a lot to me. I try not to spoil the story in advance, but in the current plotline, I think it's not unlikely you'll see Nevermore again. The setting of the third arc is different, but the themes remain the same. And exploring the inner self is part of that. As for the other suggestions, we'll see. :) The third arc was conceived as the shortest of the three. And the final one. Chances are I won't be making a fourth one. But I'm loving the ideas and your input. I'm not saying no, and it's great to hear you have interest in further storylines. But I'd have to be sure I can write something interesting enough and presentable; not just to keep on writing. Anyway, glad to hear you love this story and reread it, this time not as a lurker. Because your reply is most valuable to me. It really lifted my spirits when I read it. It was great. (I didn't find any grammar mistakes, btw. And I'd be the last person with grounds to correct you.) I agree with your comment on the fluff, by the way. Not my strong-suit. In my defense, I'm trying to keep a balance between hardness and softness in the story. But you are absolutely right. I tend to go over fluffyness lightly, assuming it's there when it's not as well worked out as it could be. I'll keep that in mind.

Also a lot of thanks to the new followers and 'favoriters' of both this story and me. You don't know half of the bliss that brings. Thank you so very much.


Chapter 41: The oncoming storm

Alternate title: Unearth


Raven was all alone; bound by shackles she could not see. Yet she felt them all the same. Along with the pressing sensation on every inch of her very being. She called out to her friends. Or at least she tried. But she could not see them through the shadows dancign around her. And they wouldn't be able to hear her at any rate. How could they? Not when her own words were lost to her. There was nothing around her but a void. She felt helpless; unable to bring anything into that nothingness. Her shouts and tears, curses and tantrums all died with her. She sank to her knees under the weight of it all.

After a while, her hand gingerly found her chest. The reassuring beat of her heart was nowhere to be found. Just like everything and everyone, it had vanished.

She thought of each of them. Did her best to picture their faces. Their smiles. Their voices. Her friends. Her family in truth. Perhaps if she could cling to the thought. Perhaps, just maybe, that would be enough… Perhaps then her heart would beat.

"Why must you do this to yourself?" A deep, ancient and on the surface of it warm and wise sounding voice soothingly asked her.

She recognized that voice anywhere. The red, strong hands with sharp, black nails that came to rest on her shoulders were an unnecessary confirmation. One she not only could have done without, but would have too if she'd had anything to say about it. She felt sick just by his touch.

"This is not real." She declared stubbornly.

"If I've learned anything since you exiled me to a place between dimensions, my daughter..." Trigon's voice boomed behind her without a trace of enmity. "It's that that's a relative concept."

"I'm dreaming." She continued. "I'm asleep right now but I'll wake up."

"Of course. What good would it do us if you were to sleep eternal?"

"I'll wake up and you'll be gone." Her voice bitter.

"No. No. No." His voice as sympathetic and soothing as ever. "Like any good parent, I'll be with you forever."

His right hand slid down to her chest. She could feel it right above her non-beating heart. She gritted her teeth. Her limbs too tired and worn out to slap away his hand. There was a gnashing of teeth. But that was the full extent of retaliation she could muster.

"Right here." The paternal demon concluded behind her. "You'll always carry me right here."

"What do you want?!" Her voice, though fierce, scarce a whisper.

The hand slid back up and grabbed her neck and lower jaw sternly by the side. She could feel the monster's sharp nails against her soft skin.

"The return of a favor." He answered. "I brought you into this world, my daughter. And you will do the same for me."

"I already did that once." She bit back. She tried to wrench free her head from his grasp but failed. "And then I took you out of it."

"Yes. Another favor to return."

"If that's what you're after; do it. Just end it. Take me out. And leave all others be. This world is not for you. I deny you it. These people are not yours to poison."

He applied slightly more pressure. "No. They are yours. Yours to torment. Yours to corrupt. Yours to end. And I will see you wreak havoc and death on this world you so hold dear, and on it's people as you herald in my coming."

"How is that returning the favor? Just take me. And leave everyone else be."

"Oh, I'll have you too. I'll have everything." His left hand clenched hard around her shoulder. It hurt. "But you took away what was important to me. I'll have you do the same to all you love."

"What do you even know about love?" She asked incredulously.

He turned her around forcibly. A quick spin without ever leaving his dominant grasp. But now it was the right that held her shoulder and the left that held her neck and lower face. He stood before her, towering over her, as tall as any man she'd ever seen. The antlers atop his flowing white hair were sharp and large. His body bright red, strong and naked. He made her look up at him. There was no cover in this void. Not even shadows to hide from his penetrating gaze. His four eyes looking down on her with unmistakable resentment.

"I know plenty. It makes you do dangerous and stupid things. It is the death of duty. Turns honest men into liars. Makes you weak and blinds you." She felt herself lifted up, closer to his ruthless face. She quivered. "I know of the desire, lust, fear, jealousy, contempt and dependence it breeds." His sharp teeth seemed to favor every word. "I know love with all my heart. It is my greatest asset. My most trusted ally. It cannot be denied. Not by the strongest of us, my lovely daughter." His thumb stroked her cheek. She felt his sharp nail scrape over her bare flesh. She felt the pure hatred in her eyes. "And it corrupts everything."

"I hate you." She managed, through clenched teeth.

"Hate." He seemed lost in thought without any real distraction lessening his hard gaze. "Hate." He repeated. "It is but love looked at through another lens. The same coin, just a different side; a different angle. And I hate you, my daughter. I dare say I've never hated anyone as much as I hate you, in this very moment."

"You won't win."

"I will. I have."

"You're lying." She spat, feeling helpless.

"I am?" He chuckled, darkly and viciously. "Look into my eyes, Raven. And see the truth. Look in them and see your future."

Unwillingly, she found her eyes gazing deeper and deeper in his four, shining red eyes. She felt her sucked in, unable to keep track of all four at the same time. She drowned in them, struggling not to lose herself as their red flare claimed the world around her. And just as she thought he'd blinded her; shadows emerged from the redness. They danced and grew; taking on familiar shapes. She saw herself, reflected in the deepest part of Trigon. She recognized the shape, but her own demonic form always scared her; no matter how many times she'd been confronted by it. The four red eyes glowed from underneath her cloak. As she was seated on a throne of bones, a scythe rested on her lap. Behind her, she could see flames rising and if she focused, the barrage of sounds turned into screams of terror. They rose in volume; and yet they were but background noise to the true horror. Her friends all lay by her feet, lifeless and gone. All but one. The Beast rested faithfully by her legs. Her hand was atop it's head; stroking it almost gently. It's fierce eyes joining her own four as they looked back at her, tellingly and accusingly.

"No!" She screamed at her darker self. "No!"

She closed her eyes in an attempt to flee from the vision. And in closing them, she found she opened them instead. It took her a second of pure disorientation and unfiltered fear to realize where she'd woken up. But the forest's early morning sounds came to her quick. Not the least of which Cyborg's loud snoring. It was enough to keep bears at bay.

Her heart was pounding with such vigor that she swore it was making up for it's absence during her vision, dream, … whatever it was. And whatever it was, she was glad to be rid of it. To be safe in the alcove with perhaps just an assassin brainwashed by an apocalypse-bent zealot. She'd take that over her father's company any day. Even if her friends hadn't been here with her.

Her friends, and Beast Boy. The Changeling lay where she'd last seen him; in front of her. After his watch, he'd taken to going to sleep next to her. It had woken her up slightly. The dazed and blurry memory crept back to her now. In darkness but for the glow of the campfire's embers he'd laid himself down next to her and shut his eyes. Half-asleep as well herself, it had been barely short of a miracle that she hadn't dozed off before him. But sleeping was one of Garfield's fortes. And she remembered reaching out to him; her right arm hanging groggily over his chest and pulling him close until his warm back pressed against her chest. She'd drifted back to dreams in naught a moment.

She only wished he hadn't morphed into a dog in his sleep. Her attire would be full of green hairs by now and the smell of the canine's breath so close to her face was far from romantic.

"Is everything the alright?" Starfire's friendly voice asked.

The memory of the nightmare still fresh, Raven found it impossible to rise smiling. But rise she did. As she sat upright and tried to massage the sleep from her face. Her hands wound up wiping away the cold sweat on her forehead. Her waking eyes surveyed the rest of the environment. Both Starfire and Robin sat on guard. The air was cold. And the wind worse still. Small wonder the power-couple each had an arm wrapped around the other. It was early. And the morning was bleak. The fire but coals by now.

"Yeah." Raven responded unconvincingly. "Everything's fine."

From the corner of her eyes, she could see the couple shared a look. But she felt too empty to care.

"We were just about to wake everyone up." Nightwing offered.

She was grateful for that. Her mood wouldn't be improved with probing right now.

Next to her, as if on cue, the green shepherd hound yawned visibly. It's legs shook and before long it's entire body transformed into a familiar shape.

Still groggy himself and laying on his back, Garfield asked with a dazed smile: "'Sup Momma?" Not a care in the world on that innocent, happy face.

There was the slightest of curves on her lips. Ignorance was bliss. Even if it was only his.


Cyborg didn't have a hard time booting up. He'd packed enough spare energy to keep him going for days. Weeks if needs be. It didn't take him long to prioritize his actions as he sat amongst the rest of the fellowship beneath the alcove. After all; it was breakfast time. And apocalypse and all be damned, but that was the most important meal of the day. He only wished he had something better to offer.

From one of the compartments in his chest a bunch of tooth-paste tubes, but in bright green. The paste was lacking in taste, in Victor's opinion. And it didn't leave you satisfied. But it did pack a great amount of energy in calories. And that was the single most important thing out here. There would be plenty of time for vitamins and nutrients when they got back

"Looks like it's going to be snowing today." His leader noted as Cyborg passed the tubes around the group.

They took them solemnly. He offered one to their guide too. But the man who called himself David Schelde refused with a wave off the hand. He hadn't said a single word since getting up.

"You sure?" Cyborg tried. "It tastes like crap, but it'll get you through the day."

The old man looked even more gray in the foggy, white morning. Eating anything would do him well.

"I don't pre-pack my food when I come out here." He replied curtly, his brow brooding. "If I can't even make it out here on my own strength anymore; what's the point?"

Cyborg, still offering the tube in his hand, was lost for words. "Oooooh...'kay?" He managed eventually, pocketing the spare. "It's here if you change your mind."

"So..." Starfire tried, from a new, cheery angle. "You can take us to the symbol, yes?" There was some paste on the corners of her mouth.

A small smile crept across Victor Stone's own. She might be the only person in the world to actually enjoy this food.

"It's a long hike." David stated, cutting right to the point as he reached for old, dented canteen. "We'll leave in ten minutes. If you keep up, we reach it before nightfall." He added before taking a swig.

"Maybe we can fly there?" Cyborg heard Raven ask as he squeezed some more food in his mouth. It was a fair point. "I know you and Robin can't, but we have a flying machine about half a day back. It's how we got here. If we take half a day to backtrack, we'd reach it much faster."

"I know these woods. But I can't lead you there from the sky. I know the land, not the air."

"I'm pretty sure that if you try..." Beast Boy offered.

"We do it my way. Or I don't do it." David snapped. "Understood?"

Cyborg noted the taken aback look on his best friends face. It didn't look like the young lad and the old geezer would be getting along any better after catching some shut eye. Yet for now the changeling resigned himself to sulkingly sip his breakfast.

It was Robin, or Nightwing as he now fancied himself, who broke the uncomfortable silence. "How 'bout we do both?" He suggested. When all eyes were on him, his leader explained. "Our craft is about half a day back. Cyborg can fly it. Beast Boy as a wolf or hound can track our steps back to where we landed. If you two go get, we'll follow you, David, to the symbol."

"We'll catch up with you before nightfall." Cyborg said, nodding as he liked the plan. "Our gunship has useful ammunition and other stuff, should we find the General and his comrades. If you walk, we can hover right behind you."

"And our backtracking from the symbol to the craft would be seriously cut." Raven chimed in.

"Would that be the okay?" Starfire asked, her eyes hopefull.

The old man sighed. "You kids rely too much on your technology. But whatever..." He said, raising his hands in defeat. His voice gruff as ever. "Do what you gotta do." He clasped the palms of his hands on his upper legs and rose. He carefully grabbed his gun to the rocky wall. "Now I gotta do what I gotta do." He said. "And when I'm done pissing, we move out." Cyborg wasn't the only one left stumped as the grump made his way through them; walking towards the treeline.

"Are we sure we need this guy?" Cyborg asked hoarsely after a while, his voice quiet enough not to be heard by the man answering the call of nature. "And that he's not just some old cook?"

"He is an old cook." Beast Boy said bitterly.

Without warning a blow of thunder seemed to hit the forest. A single blast; loud en echoing through the hills. Cyborg and his friends found their necks snapping around quickly to catch the action. Brandishing the rifle in his arms, David Schelde held it somewhat upright. Even at this distance they could see the hot air of the released weapon contrast to the cold wind around them. Close by him, a black bird dropped straight to the ground with a sickening thud.

"Got ya, ya little bastard!" The geezer shouted proudly and arrogantly. It was only then that he zipped up

"Yeah." Cyborg heard Raven agree behind him. "He is an old cook. But..."

"But we do need him." Cyborg sighed, finishing her sentence for her.

"You'd be hard pressed finding anyone more loathe to admit it..." Raven added in a dry voice.

"No he wouldn't." Beast Boy spoke with vigor.

"Regardless..." Nightwing called them back to attention with his matter-of-factually way of speaking. "Everybody understands the plan."

They turned back on themselves, leaving the wild-man to his celebrations.

"Why must we again split the up?" Starfire asked in an uncharacteristically melancholic tone. "Once the up has been split, things always tend to go the bad way for us as of late."

"Despite our concerns that David may not be who he says he is, he's probably still our best chance of finding the symbol in time. And even if he was Rouge, we'd still need to keep an eye on her. For all we know capturing the 'horseman of famine' will be plenty to stop Immortus' plan. But we'd best have that gunship with us too. If you know a better way to be at two places at once, I'd love to hear it."

"We should hire the Billy Numerous." The girl resigned jokingly, yet her voice ripe with regret.

"You guys just hurry back." Their leader added in a stern manner.

Cyborg found the eyes of his green friend. The boy wore his serious face, for a change. As they nodded at each other and mumbled, the metal man wondered if his friend was relieved to get away from the crazy hunter. Perhaps he knew what Cyborg suspected, that he'd been the one to accompany himself, the pilot, to avoid further escalation.

"Titans, go." Their leader concluded.


Bruce Wayne was having a hard time focusing. Which in and by itself was already something unusual for the bachelor billionaire. And yet, he had everything going for him. He ought to be in the zone; seated behind his giant batcomputer in the Batcave beneath Wayne Manor. He'd spent all day in some boring meetings back at Waynecorp. His attendance had been explicitly demanded by the board. And for once, he'd found no other solution but to go.
Not that his presence changed anything. He'd found himself nodding along absentmindedly with everything that Lucius said. He'd put the right man in the right place for running his corporation. Even now, he couldn't remember everything that had been said in the meeting. The only thing he recalled was going out of his way to make some renovations to the Waynecorp buildings in Blüdhaven. It'd be a great smokescreen to further his other batcave underneath them. The situation in Blüdhaven just kept getting worse. The crime-rates skyrocketed; even overtaking the peaks in Gotham. He wasn't sworn to protect that city; but when it's toxicity overflowed into the already tainted Gotham; it'd be best to have a well-prepared base of operations at it's core. And this added business with the Horsemen didn't do much to alleviate his concerns.

But all in all, he'd spent the day in the boardroom, listening and occasionally talking. That was as close to rest as he got these days. He shouldn't feel so distracted; so tired, right now. Yes, he'd spent an hour and a half doing intense work-out before climbing behind the huge computer. But that normally gave him an almost pleasant strain and a most definite sense of accomplishment. Now his muscles just ached and his mind was elsewhere.

"Ghastly things." A British voice filled to the brim with a quiet sense of dignity remarked.

Gotham's favorite son looked to his left and found his old manservant standing beside him, holding a silver tray with a matching teapot, cup and necessities. Like Bruce himself the butler was also dressed in black. But where he sported a black t-shirt on black jeans-like pants, Alfred was, as always, in full attire. For all the time he'd known his guardian, Bruce'd rarely seen him in anything else than the black suit with matching bow-tie and white shirt. There was no denying Alfred was becoming an old man. The top of his head was bald and the rest of his hair, on the sides of his head, his brows and his pointed mustache were turning gray. Nevertheless, he resonated a stoic sternness that seemed to radiate he wouldn't be so silly as to let something insignificant as age affect his worth and capabilities. And it warned that you shouldn't be a bloody fool and try to suggest otherwise.

"It's not for me to dislike an art-gallery, mind you. But with all this doom and gloom already in the world it seems a waste not to brighten up your walls with something a spot more lovely." The butler went on, without a hint of sarcasm to be recognized. At least, if you didn't know him very well.

Bruce turned back to the picture currently on the screen. Like all the others he'd been examining, he'd brought them from the cave in Africa. On this one, one could see an ancient depiction of Death itself, hooded, raising a scythe. It stood before a horde of man-like creatures but with mad eyes and sharp, monstrous teeth. All rushed for the personification of the end of life. Their expressions each and every one of them one of pain and misery and some of their limbs dislocated or removed. Above them, what seemed like shadows arose to the sky.

"I don't like this, Alfred." Bruce said.

"Sir?"

"I don't like this prophecy-business."

"It clashes with your inner skeptic, perhaps?"

"Robin got the map because I showed him the map through a picture of me showing the map to him. I don't like the idea of being a puppet in some grand scheme that I can't even understand."

"No luck so far on the translations then?"

"There won't be any luck in the future either." Bruce sighed, trying to rub the fatigue from his brow. "Without a Rosetta stone, or something, it's impossible. All I can do now is look at these pictures and wonder if I did the right thing in sharing them all with Robin."

"Young master Grayson can take care of himself, I'd wager."

"I just don't want to be feeding into these prophecies. They don't seem to lead anywhere good."

"Well Master Bruce. If you'd not shown them, you'd be wondering the same thing, wouldn't you?"

The multi-billionaire crossed his arms and eyed his most trusted ally. "What's your point Alfred?"

"If I may be so bold. I know you prefer to have all the knowledge at hand before making a decision. But this isn't the first time you've had to act on instinct. When nothing is clear and everything is distorted, I find it's usually best to try to do what you feel you need to do."

"And just hope for the best?"

"That's life in a nutshell, isn't it Master Bruce? It's the art of trying, I say. Why, take me for instance." Alfred added, putting down the platter with tea in front of the Wayne heir. "You didn't ring for me. And I had no idea of bringing you some refreshment would be welcomed or would be a bother to you. I simply took a gamble."

Despite being worn out, Bruce managed a short laugh. His deep voice rolled. "This is a bit different from a cup of tea Alfred. But thank you for it."

"Complicated things often are just simple things in disguise, Master Bruce." The butler commented sagely. "Although I'll admit this..." He waved his hand towards the screen. "isn't exactly my cup of tea."

"Tea sounds wonderful." A new familiar voice called out.

Barbara's stealth training had definitely improved. The Batman hadn't even heard her come in. And yet there she was, turning a corner and stepping from the shadows. The young girl was wearing a dark-purple sporting outfit with bright sneakers. Her long, red hair was bundled up into a ponytail. And over her shoulder slung a bright-green rucksack. Despite their surprise, neither Bruce nor Alfred showed it.

"I suppose I'll go and put another kettle on then. And fetch another cup and saucer." Alfred responded with dignity. And after a small bow to the young girl he added "Miss Gordon." Before leaving them alone.

"Lord Alfred." Barbara countered, bowing theatrically.

The butler took his leave without flinching and without shedding a single shred of dignity. Sometimes Bruce still wasn't sure if these kinds of jokes bothered the old man, or not. Even after all this time. But one thing was certain. Barbara seemed to enjoy them.

He eyed her as she jumped up and sat down on the desk along the giant computer. There were times the redhead could be as hard, unyielding and serious as her father. And he was glad she displayed this every time she was out on the streets; going after criminals. But other times she was playful, precocious and full of unbridled idealism. That was the price of wearing a mask was. Only a shade of self-denial and schizophrenia away from the likes of Twoface. Bruce Wayne knew it well. Sometimes the girl was so much like the Bat. And sometimes the girl was so much like herself. Or like a teenage girl her age ought to be. After all, which face was the mask? The Batman lost track more oft than he could count, himself.

As she smilingly plucked a scone from the tray and bit down into it, he was reminded of Robin. Nightwing now, in truth. He found his mind trailing back to the boy often these days. Another child the Bat had taken under his wing. Another one like himself struggling to keep the darkness out.

At long nights, after patrol, when sleep didn't come and he found himself working out relentlessly, he tried to reassure himself he was doing the best he could. That by helping Robin fight his demons and show that the boy could make a difference, and that he could take down his parent's murderer, Dick could move one. That the boy would be able to control the shadows that roared within. That he could be happy. That though Bruce himself was one broken soul, beyond repair, he could yet help another mend.

But the doubt stayed, no matter how much he tried. As with Robin, as with Batgirl. There was always that nagging, small thought, telling him he was a poisonous meme. Yes, Robin needed something to channel his powerlessness into righteous indignation. And yes, if a girl as stubborn as Batgirl, the daughter of one of the few people in Bruce's life he considered a friend, was going to run around at midnight busting creeps; he had to make damn sure she was prepared. But still, as his family grew; so did those sucked into this lonely, destructive lifestyle. And how much of it was him genuinely trying to keep them afloat in the chaos? And just how much was he himself actually just trying not to drown?

Barbara's voice broke through his quiet reflection. He quickly realized she'd been talking to him for a few seconds.

"Hey, Bruce, you okay in there?" She asked. Her head almost on her shoulder, flashing him a lopsided grin.

"Yes." He replied.

"You look a little tired." She noted. "Need some energy?" She asked, holding out the remaining half of the scone for him.

He waved it away, and added brusquely: "It was reckless of you to come here." And that much was true. "What if someone saw you?"

"Nobody did." She snorted before shoving the rest of the pastry in her mouth.

"You should've waited for the cover of dark. It'd be bad if some reporter saw the commissioner's daughter casually visiting Wayne manor. There'd be questions. Not least of all from your father." He went on relentlessly.

She answered before swallowing. "Wha? Yati ibls scahdahlis..."

"Don't speak with your mouth full, Barbara." Bruce sighed, feeling half a parent. "You're not five."

She swallowed and continued mischievously "I was saying: What? You think it'd be less scandalous if the commiss'sh teenage daughter was caught rendezvousing with Gotham's prime bachelor late at night?"

"You can get in unseen late at night." He answered, ignoring her sass.

"I can get in unseen anytime. And besides. Don't worry; I told my dad I was busy with a school assignment. As it just happens to be; I need to write a paper on philanthropy. And who better to ask than local expert: billionaire Bruce?"

He turned back to the screen. "I take it that's not really why you're here?" He asked as he flipped through the images taken from the cave.
Over her shoulder, she joined in with his scanning eyes. "No." She admitted. "I came to update you."

The heir raised an eyebrow. "On what?"

"The hospital in Blüdhaven. Where our good friend and model citizen, Nazi Reinhardt von Oderberg met his over-timely demise."

Bruce shook the mouse on it's pad, clicking on. "What about it?"

"It's off."

"It's off?"

"It's off." She repeated herself.

"What do you mean 'it's off'?"

She waved her hand in an impatient and irritated fashion. "There's something off about it, Batman. Place gave me the creeps."

"It's a hospital. They tend to do that." He was not impressed.

"You spent a lot of time in hospitals, Bruce?" She asked coolly, taking the cup and sipping it.

He stopped working and leaned back in his chair, eying her sternly and with some reservation he answered: "Only on occasion. We do most of our patching up in here, as you well know."

She swallowed before going on. "I had a mom who died in one. Have a dad who's been in there for a heart-attack, kidney-stones, getting shot on three seperate times and a stabbing. I had my appendix removed. And my baby brother has spent more of his first years more inside hospitals than outside them."

Bruce wondered if this was the time to tell her he was sorry for her troubles. But it didn't feel like it. She was trying to make a point, even if he was missing it. So instead, his words were blunt. "What are you getting at, Barbara?"

Her growing impatience and irritability told him he should have added a 'sorry' in there for good measure. "My point, mr. Wayne, is that I know hospitals. And I know when something's off about them."

"All right." He reconciled. "Your hunches have proven useful in the past. Given your track-record, you're probably on to something." It did some to lighten her mood.

"Oh, I'm definitely onto something." She declared proudly, undoing her backpack. From it she pulled her batphone.

"You bring that with you to school?" At this point the caped crusader cared not for the discontent in his voice.

"You prefer I leave it at home where junior can stumble across it when he's rummaging through my room?" She asked without a care in the world.

A grunt was all he could muster, folding his arms.

Her voice betrayed her excitement and pride as she rambled on."It were small things that gave it away; the blueprints and lay-out of the place. The added security. The presence of not one, but after hacking their system and cross-examining their data with the Justice League's own criminal database, multiple suspected old war-criminals..."

"You hacked their database?"

"Surprised?"

"Impressed."

"I've been focusing a lot more on my hacking skills as of late. Helps check out my hunches faster, more efficiently, and with considerably less throw-downs." She handed him the phone. "Plug it in."

The data on her phone was quick to replace his own research. The column of numbers that popped up on the left of the screen didn't lie.

"Part of the hospital is a front." She said. "Money-laundering, drug-labs & drug-trafficking, organ-trafficking, illegal experiments, ... Either one or any number of those would be my guess. Most people working there are probably unaware of this, but something shady is going on there."

"Some of these names of their patients are known aliases to known criminals. Why didn't they flag with our intelligence?"

"It's a dark list." She explained. "I had to dig deep to get it."

"When did you find the time to..."

"I told my gym teacher it was that time of the month."

"Oh." He studied the data further, unsure how to respond. "Whatever else might be going on there, it definitely looks like a hide-out and recovery station for a great deal of our enemies. This is good work Barbara."

"Oh, I'm not done yet." She smiled. Leaning over the young girl reached for the mouse-pad and made the necessary clicks. A picture appeared on screen. It was a staff-identity-card for the hospital with a photo on it. "This is the man I tracked the list back to."

It was a lean man. Bruce judged him to be in his early fifties. He had kindly eyes, hiding behind light, round spectacles. The man sported a strong jaw and a sharp nose. Further he had hardly any hair on his head. It had retreated so far back, that he seemed almost bald.

He read the name beneath the photo. "Francis Dulmacher."

"Son of Otto Dulmacher." The redhaid explained.

"I know that face." Bruce said. "I've seen it before."

He could feel another picture being recalled from his near as photographic memory. But before he could even manage, the photo flashed on screen. In black and white the Batman could see two rows of Nazi-soldiers and an assortment of scientists standing before a brick wall. The first row was kneeling and made up of soldiers and corporals, judging by their uniforms. Behind them, flanking the sides, stood the proud scientists. And amidst them, majors, generals and even Himmler himself.

"You saw it here?" She asked. "It was in your file on Reinhardt."

And indeed, one of the scientists, the second from the right, had remarkably similar features. Even if this picture was a lot older, more blurry and portrayed the face smaller. The nose, the thin face and strong jaw. Even the balding head.
He'd known it was in Reinhardt's file. The once young officer smiled proudly into the camera too. Far to the left, as left as the officers extended.

"I'm guessing that's Otto, Francis' father." Barbara ventured, pointing at the balding man.

"The names of these scientists have never been released." The batman spoke, looking at the picture with renewed interest. "Ahnenerbe has more than one secret left to reveal. Fine work, Barbara." He repeated himself. "Fine work. Did you find time to look up Otto?"

"On the bus-ride over." She answered. "Not much about his life during the war. He was listed as a doctor in a medical hospital and supposedly fled from East-Germany after the war. I don't know if he had papers to prove he was never a Nazi supporter..."

"Clearly." Bruce spoke roughly, his voice dripping in sarcasm. "Just look at him; how could anyone think he'd have anything to do with that party? No, I'm afraid when it came to scientists after the war, our agencies were more than happy to smuggle in anyone ready to defect. All in order to keep ahead of the red menace."

"I'm thinking you're right on that. Anyways, whoever it was, they did a superb job in muddying the paperwork. It's not clear when exactly he arrived, nor who he married or knocked up to bring forth young Francis… But he died a while back. I don't know what if anything he did for the government in his time in America, but on the record he soon moved to Blüdhaven and started working in the same hospital in which his son would eventually come to work. My guess is he used his connections to help his former Nazi-companions enter the USA and settle. It was probably a lucrative business."

Bruce caught on. "But as the second world war crept steadily further into the past, and the cold war was quick at it's heels… The safe-house decided to branch out to super-villains."

"Immortus, Reinhardt and Francis' father were all in Ahnenerbe. They knew each-other."

"I know what you're getting at." He waved. "They might even have worked on the same projects. And if Immortus killed Reinhardt, Francis just might be the only one who might have so much of a clue as to what the insane geezer wanted from him."

"It's a gamble, but… It's worth a shot, don't you reckon?"

And yes. Yes it was. This was right. This was how it should be. He felt a warm sensation of determination wash over him. Facts. Clues. And with them the world came into focus; allowing him to act and to see his goals clearly. No more of this vague fortunetelling. He had purpose now.

"Of course, since our family missed both Christmas and New Year with all that's been going on… Dad has a special dinner party planned for tonight. You know that, I told you. So I can't follow this up any further." She sighed.

"Thank you."

"What?"

"I've had it up to here with prophecy." He said. "With visions and read futures. I've had it with uncertainty and inaction. Whatever forces we're fighting, they can keep their wall-paintings. They can keep their old books. They can keep their curses and their revelations." He turned to her. "You help me forward, Barbara. You are the only oracle I need."

She gave him the most beautiful smile.


Beast Boy prowled alongside his best friend. In the shape of a mountain lion, his senses were heightened. They'd both agreed this would be for the better; less chance of them being sneaked up upon. Even through the dense coverage of the woods, a few flakes of snow found themselves on his fur. Those that landed on him were quick to melt. Those that missed him, remained on the icy ground.
They were walking towards the snowstorm. And while it was still mild enough to have him be certain they'd reach the airship before things got worse, he hoped their friends traveling in the opposite direction could keep ahead of it for a little bit longer. It was creeping up fast. And you never could tell how bad such snowstorms could get. Aside from the bare fact that as of late they'd had more than enough winter to go around a life-time.

They were close now. After hours of walking. He could smell the fuel, even hundreds of meters away. It was a sharp, penetrating smell of enhanced petroleum. It crept up his feline nose; blocking out all others. He changed back to his human form partially to avoid that unsavory fragrance, partially because it made his sense of smell useless anyways and partially because something was bugging him.

His friend looked over without ever slowing down.

"We're close." Beast Boy declared, rubbing his hands over his arms to keep warm. The sudden loss of fur was a tad unpleasant.

"Yeah, I know." Cyborg noted, looking ahead.

"It's the smell." He offered.

The cybernetic giant seemed to understand. Perhaps he could smell it too.

"No matter." He soothed. "Keep your eyes open. We'll be out of these woods soon."

"Good one." The young lad chuckled.

"'Sup B?" Cyborg asked out of the blue.

"What do you mean?"

"It's a question one asks when inquiring about what is, in essence, not down but quite the opposite." Cyborg explained sarcastically.

"I know..." He stopped when he realized his friend, who knew him so well, was having a go at him. Best to just spill the beans. "I don't like being out here."

"I thought you, of all people, would want us to track down Immortus and settle this entire business once and for all."

"I do!" He assured. "I do. It's not just that I want to see Immortus behind bars… What I really want is… is..."

"Is for Raven to get some of the closure she deserves."

He really was his best friend.

"Hey man, I get it." Cyborg continued. "This stuff must be weighing on her. And you ain't never been one to let one of the team carry a burden alone. Not if you could help it."

If green could turn to red, he'd blush.

"Just know, man, that Raven's a complex girl. And we lead complex lives."

"Tell me about it."

"There's always stuff like this making things even more complex."

"Preaching to the choir dude!"

"B..." Something in his tone made the changeling take note. It was compassion. "What I'm saying is that there's always gonna be stuff like this. I hope you realize that?"

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, obviously trying to find the words. "I mean we can lock up Immortus. We can stop Trygon. We can get her to safely remove your mother's necklace… But the lives we live, they'll never be normal. And there will always be problems and old wounds being torn open. I hope you're not thinking that if we fix this; everything will be smooth sailing form here on out. Real talk? I've never seen Raven as close to not gloomy as I have these past few days. And I know you want the best for her. But she's always going to be a tad reserved and moody and, you know, Raven. And I like that you're trying to make her smile. But take it from me, it's not going to get easier. A relationship is about keeping that energy going; having to keep trying."

He chuckled, smiling a lopsided grin. "Yeah I know, big guy." He said. "And I ain't complaining. Not about that. Besides, dude, you know I like a challenge."

"You're the laziest guy I know." Cyborg laughed. "You wouldn't get the pizza from the deliveryman if it could be helped."

"Regardless." The green titan laughed. "That wasn't why I was complaining."

"It wasn't?"

"I'm complaining because we are out here, going to the ship." As if on cue, their airship emerged between the trees. A small clearing in the woods had provided them with a landing patch. With every step they took, they could see it better. "And they are out there going after the cabin.

"You mad because we split up?" He nodded and his friend continued. "There's the ship now. We'll catch up with them soon enough. And last check up they sounded fine over the radio. Everything's going to be fine, Beastie. Rob… Nightwing's plan makes sense."

"Oh, I'm sure it makes sense." He replied with a taste of bitterness as he vaulted over over a fallen log. "I don't like the guy they are traveling with. I don't trust him. But we need him. Makes sense to send me off."

His friend waited too long to respond. Just barely. Only a second. It was enough to tell him the metal man had known it form the get-go too.

"Oh come on Beastie, what are you..." The gentle giant started, trying to laugh his suspicions off.

"Don't."

"What?"

"Don't." Beast Boy smiled, though he didn't feel like it. "Not you. Don't. Please."

"Don't what?"

"Don't lie to me." Something in his eyes must've made the tin-man feel ashamed.

"He just needed David, B." Cyborg muttered. "Don't take it personally, he just needed him to agree to take us to the symbol."

"Oh I am taking it personally." Beast boy rubbed his arms for warmth.

"Don't be like that man."

"But not because he sent me off." His friend's surprised, sideways glance and accompanying silence told the changeling to go on. "I get that much. The mission comes first."

"Then what? What did he do wrong?"

"You really don't know?"

"What could he have done differently?"

"He could have been honest."

The green lad stopped at the beginning of the clearing. The ship stood a few dozen yards away. His friend stopped too; turning to him.

"B..." He started. His gaze filled with sympathy.

Garfield raised his hand and deflected his gaze. "No I get it, you know? He thinks I can't handle it. Don't tell me he doesn't. None of you do. Why would you? I'm just the funny guy. I'm too immature to understand it. And so he doesn't tell me why I am the one to accompany you. And not only doesn't he think I'd take it badly if he were to tell me it's so that I won't scare off David. He also thinks I don't know what he's done. Because I'm just the funny guy to you dudes."

He slumped. A cold wind flew by. And drops of snow covered him before his best friend answered.

"B… That's not true." The tall young man spoke solemnly.

"It isn't?" Beast Boy asked disbelievingly.

"We don't think you're the funny guy."

The cybernetic teen's timing was impeccable. The changeling found his self-pity melt away, unlike the snow. The laughter was on him before he could stop it. In stutters and spurts at first. Soft and few. But it grew louder into a roar.

"Look, B." His bro put his hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye after he'd stopped laughing. "You've grown a lot, as of late. Guessing that might be the other side of this Beast-boy-Raven-equation. And I think it's great. You're really growing up. And I mean that in the least demeaning way possible."

"I know." He mumbled, looking up at his friend.

"I saw it back in the asylum, after we found doctor Hamsfeld. And I've seen it ever since. And I'm damn sure Raven's seen it too.

"I hope so." His eyes darted for a second.

"But she's your girlfriend. And you are my best friend." The metal-man's voice was unwavering.

'And you mine.' The boy Logan wanted to say. But his friend went on.

"Others will see too. But it'll take time. Change always takes time."

"Yeah." Beast Boy sighed, not happily, but content at least. "Yeah. You're right."

"We cool?" The cyber-teen asked.

He placed his hand on the metal one on his shoulder. "Yeah, we cool. Thanks, Cyborg."

"Anytime."

"Just, give me a sec, okay?" The green lad asked, stepping slightly sideways.

"Sure." His friend nodded. "I'll prep the ship. Come on in when you're ready.

As Cyborg moved toward the ship, Beast Boy sauntered around the clearing. He was changing, he realized. The tin-man had the right of it. Change, ironically, was a strange concept to the shapeshifter. He'd never had to. Not his real self. His body yes, that was clay to be molded. Used in whatever way necessary to get the job done. But his true self, his inner self, he'd been the same for as long as he could remember; he felt. Until recently. The realization of it scared him a little, truth be told.
Oh, he'd never had any active Peter-Panish delusions. He always knew he'd 'grow up', as his friend noted. Though he hadn't given it much thought, per se. But here it was. And it had crept up on him without even realizing it. Without being bothered by it.

Yes, at heart his wants and needs were the same. He wanted everybody to like him. He needed everybody to laugh. He wanted to enjoy himself and needed his friends to do so too. But while in the past he hadn't stopped to think about his actions, now he didn't want to be reckless. Now, he didn't just need to save and help those he cared about; he wanted not to endanger them as well.

He'd never wanted to better than he'd been before. The concept had been alien to him. And yet now, he actively found himself thinking how he could be the best he he could be. And he didn't even mind. Was this self-loathing or the opposite? He couldn't tell. And since when had he ever spent this much time thinking about himself and his thoughts?

If Raven was changing because of him. Growing less gloomy… Or as Cyborg put it, closer to not-gloomy. Was she affecting him? And if she was changing him, would she still like him if he were different? How could she like him for being less 'him' than he was before? Didn't she say she needed his neverending optimism and cheerful attitude? Would he still be able to keep bumping into walls but never stop trying; as she wanted of him?

And yet… She had been changing too. And he hadn't grown to like her less. How could this be? He'd fallen for her. The person who she'd been. And now the both of them were becoming different. No. Not exactly different. But more. He was left in awe at his own confusion, worrying him greatly on the one hand but striking him as nothing to fear on the other. An odd sensation, to say the least.

The quiet of the forest was good for thinking uninterruptedly. At least, until he realized it was too quiet. He looked around hastily. He knew woods better than anyone. But this was wrong. Luckily there was nothing bad happening to Cyborg. He was just about at the ship now. But as his gaze shook to the trees nearby, he could sense deep inside that this was bad. There were no birds, no deer, no critters. Even in winter there should be some forms of life. But there was only wind and the rustling of trees. No branches being cracked. No nothing.

"Cy, get inside and scan the area!" He found himself yelling as he darted on, looking left and right; trying to find the oncoming threat. Whatever it might be.

"Sure thing!" His metal friend yelled, immediately in war-modus.

You could count on Cyborg to be ready for anything.

Beast Boy could hear the ship's door slide open behind him when he saw it. A long line of death stretching far into the forest. Plants, grass, flowers, trees, everything was dead. Black and dead. They hadn't seen it, nor the corpses of squirrels and birds and even a moose that lay in it's path. They were decaying already; rotting and festering. He could taste the breakfast-paste in his mouth again, along with the acids of his stomach. But he kept it in.
They couldn't have seen the path as it came from the opposite side they'd entered the clearing from. And it had gone straight for the ship, which blocked it out entirely. His eyes widened as he realized the only thing that could have cause this particular destruction. This poison that had killed beast and plant alike. A trail that followed a man that was pure poison and sickness, spreading it wherever his feet touched the ground.

"Pestilence." He gasped.

He turned on his heels as quickly as he could. Facing the black, bulky ship and seeing the horseman's path as it lead there.

"Cyborg!" He screamed madly from the top of his lungs. "Get out of there!"

But what emerged from the ship was not his friend. But a cloud of red toxins, poisoning the grass around the ship wherever it landed and turning it black and brittle.


Rested atop his red, majestic stallion, War stared down at the valley below him. The ridge his horse occupied was high and far enough to keep him from being spotted by his adversaries. And the thick growth of trees around him only added to that.
He had to use binoculars himself, to spot them. But he could see them all the same. Robin, donning a new outfit. His alien girlfriend accompanied him. As did Death made flesh. Her choice of companions did not bother him. For now she could try to deny her fate all she wanted. She'd turn to the Red God before the end. And for now the three below followed their guide, unaware of his spying eyes. And they followed their guide to their doom.

He lowered the binoculars and fastened his thick, red cape. They'd reach the cabin before him. Oh, he could spur the stallion and fly through the air, but the chance of being spotted was too great. And with his fellow horsemen in place, he was certain he'd get what he came for.
With some luck, and if the Red God willed it, he'd be rid of this vermin before long too. He took a deep breath, feeling blessed and on top of the world. Overlooking the world which would soon burn.

Snow fell on his shoulders. They would've landed on his steed as well, but the flames of it's mane and legs melted them before they could get close.

Over the woods below he could see the thicket of dark clouds gathering. The oncoming storm was nigh.

"Thy will be done." He spoke softly, gently, feeling the presence of his God. "Thy will be done."