Nobody knows what happened on the night that the heroes fell. Few people knew how they fell, and those that did refused to talk about it. All they had to do was survive.
The biggest mystery of all was what happened to the Titans. They were the first team to be completely eliminated by the attack of the Super – villains. What happened to Beast Boy, the only survivor on the attack on Titans Tower is the biggest mystery of all.
Some say he died when in a tiny animal form, others say they hurt him like no one has ever hurt him before, and still others say that he got tired of all the fighting and retired to a simpler life.
But either way, he had never raised his voice, or even transformed in nearly forty years. His few friends would barely even recognize him now.
A/N: I own nothing. All the characters belong to DC, the plot (parody/satire of Old Man Logan) belongs to MARVEL.
The farms were placed, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere, somewhere near what used to be Portland, Oregon, which is now nothing but a giant pile of debris. The farms were placed in the middle of a valley, with giant hills and mountains surrounding one half, an endless dark forest surrounding the other, with a giant river splitting the middle.
The farms looked both very old and very new at the same time as if the farms were at first buildings used in a wild west movie, that has been renovated centuries later, making them look ugly, which doesn't make them look appealing at all.
Near the buildings were giant fields, each one of them growing large crops from corn to cabbages to carrots and so on, it would have looked picturesque, had it not been the piles of broken-down cars and tractors that were placed near the fields, between it and the barn that was hardly ever used.
There was only one way in and out of this place and that was an old dirt path that led from the infinite forest, into the highway that was a 4 hours walk away.
The sun was out today, not a cloud in the sky, and it baked the area like an oven, giving it a strong humid feeling like if this area is on the brink of becoming a desert, but some invisible, undetectable force is holding it back.
A large white stallion that looked and smelled as if it had never taken a bath, walked slowly down this dirt path as if it were walking on a minefield, it's legs shaking as if the bones has been turned into jelly. It looked as if it should have died a long time ago, but it somehow was still clinging onto life, whether if it wanted to or not.
On the stallion was a large man, he looked both very young and very old at the same time, he had some wrinkles in his face, along with a bit of silver hair, but he had the body of a young man no older than the mid-twenties, no older than the early teens. He wouldn't have looked out of place in a slum, with elf-like ears, had several chipped or rotten teeth that plagued his mouth, and his eyes were as dark as tunnels to whoever gazed at them for a moment. He was wearing a large leather jacket that was made of nothing but pockets, with pockets big enough to hold the entire planet in, to pockets so small that it can only hold a single penny. He wore a large blue jeans that had seen better days, shoes that had every stain imaginable all over them, and he wore a hat that looked to be an artefact from a movie from the 1960's.
The man had a greenish tinge to his skin, and his posture was more animal like than human. The man's name was Garfield Logan. He was used to be called 'Beast Boy', but nobody has ever called him that for nearly forty years. All that was missing was a cigarette in his mouth to make him look like out of a cowboy movie, but Garfield can't afford such a luxury if he wanted to or not.
Garfield was carrying a large, worn out, rucksack, like something a backpacker would bring when they go hiking around the world, and he was clutching it as if it contained all the treasure in the world.
A woman came bursting out from the house in the middle from the small row of houses, as if fired from a cannon and charged towards the man.
The woman didn't look as pretty as a supermodel, nor did she look ugly as an inbred cult member, but somewhere in between. She had waist long, shaggy black hair, eyes the colour of fire, a face that had too many scars and blemishes, and her body features were so, unusual that it was impossible to tell the age of this woman.
"Did you get it?" She asked, sounding out of breath from her run, looking up at the man.
The man opened the bag to show the contents of it as if this action was more than enough. At first the woman's face lit up as if she was presented with a winning lottery ticket, then her face fell as if she realised that she was one number off.
"Got half of the pills, and the seeds Linda" the man said, he sounded like he hadn't had a glass of water all day, and he eyed the contents of the bag as if it had personally insulted him "but Nick ain't got any of the rest."
The woman threw the man into a rib crushing hug "don't worry Gar, we will make it. I promise."
"How's the kids doing?" The man asked looking around him as if searching for something important.
As if on cue a tall lean figure came walking from one of the fields as if it had given up on a futile task. The figure revealed itself to be a young boy, no older than 17, and he looked like what Garfield looked in his prime, minus the green skin and the shifting abilities. He wore nothing but ragged overalls that looked as if it would fall apart if he made so much as an adjustment to it, and the pockets seemed to contain half of a toolbox. He was covered in oil and grease stains, and he certainly smelled like that too.
"Tractors busted out" The boy said "I have been working on it all day, did everything. Getting a new engine is out of the question, and all the spare parts has been used up"
The man nodded at the boy as if his attempts was enough to satisfy him. "Alright, James. Perhaps Nick and his allies would be willing to work on something. Now go back into the house and help your mom and your sisters with dinner."
James nodded and he and his mother walked back into the old house both talking unintelligible mutters to each other, as Garfield pulled the horse to the shed where a large pile of animal feed and water awaited the horse, and it guzzled it down greedily. Garfield patted the horse on the head, mumbling calming words to the horse.
He turned, looking down on the ground as if it can provide all the answers that he needed to get out of the situation that he is in. The ground was bare, save for a few patches of grass, and a single tiny green flower.
Garfield blinked, and suddenly he was a teenager again, walking out of the dark Titan's Tower. He remembered the smell of blood and how it stung in his throat and nostrils, he remembered the feeling how it covered him entirely, how the blood fell, dripping down into the ground. He remembered how cold it was, how the wind blew into his face, stinging him like nettles, and how darkness surrounded him. He remembered the taste of blood in his mouth, a taboo for him even now, he remembered the feeling of himself retargeting everything in his stomach, he remembered every shake of his body as if his bones were jelly, he remembered seeing a bright green flower, and it turning red the moment a drop of blood came into contact with it.
Garfield shook his head as if trying to surpass the memory. 'It is too late. Too far gone. There is nothing left. Only me and my family.' With that, he walked into the house.
Half of the house was made out of wood and looked as if it would collapse at any second, while the other half looked modern and can survive until the end of time. The fusion of the two made the building look extremely ugly and unappealing, but none of the residents cared. All they did care about was that if it was inhabitable. The kitchen and dining room was the point where the two met, with the kitchen looking like something of a sci-fi film with a hi-tech, cheap-looking stove and fridge, and the dining room looking like something from a western film, with cheap furniture and paintings that look like something out of anyone's grandparent's walls.
Garfield looked at his small family. His wife, Linda was serving soup to his eldest daughter, Rachel. Rachel was almost 22 and she looked as if she had a stroke, half of her face looked as if it had no muscles whatsoever, making it look saggy like excess skin. Her legs looked as if it was run over by a steam roller, confining her to a makeshift wheelchair made from bike wheels, shopping cars and a car seat. She lifted the spoon to her face, which was a difficult task for her as she is constantly shaking like her bones were made from rubber.
His second daughter, Stella, was wolfing down her dinner. Stella is 17 and she looked perfectly like her mother, with the black hair and fiery red eyes that can cause an inferno at anyone who looks at them, which looked far more aggressive on her. She looked as if she spent her entire life working out, making her look like a miniature bouncer at a nightclub. Her hands were dirty, covered in soil, earth and dirt.
James, Stella's twin brother, was simultaneously playing on a hand-me-down phone which had a worn-out letter 'T' on the back of it, playing a speed run game and helping to feed the youngest child, Jason, who was sitting on a worn-out highchair. Jason looked like Garfield, except for the eyes, where instead of having cool green eyes, he had fiery red ones. He was an oddly quiet baby, and that didn't really make anyone complain.
Dinner was a quiet affair. Nobody spoke to anyone, as they had nothing much to talk about, and all news was delivered through the actions, rather than words. Then, after Rachel dry swallowed all of her daily pills, Linda looked at her husband and spoke calmly.
"Gordon from the travelling market had offered $100 for James' phone." She said looking at her husband as if he understood what this meant.
"I am not selling the kids toys, Linda," Garfield said, tiredly, "I told you this many times."
"It's just an idea, Garfield," Linda said coldly looking "You know that rent is due in three days and we are short on money to give. Anyway, we have nothing worth selling left, and the kids know how tight things are."
"We don't mind Pa." James said looking up from his empty bowl "Anyway we barely got any time to play"
Garfield seemed to pause for a moment as if considering it then he repeated what he had said "I am not selling my kids toys Linda. Not now not ever." He got up as if this ended the conversation, about to take his dishes through to wash when Stella spoke "Mr Lam said that you used to be a superhero. Is that correct?"
Everything went quiet, nobody said a thing. Linda stared at her daughter as if she had violated an unspoken rule, Stella's twin brother looked at her as if she had punched him in the face, even the baby and the half brain dead girl looked at Linda in what appeared to be disgust, even the wind seemed to have stopped.
Garfield's face didn't change, there was an extremely long pause. Then Garfield said "You tell Mr Lam that superheroes are gone now. Now be a good girl and help your mother and brother with the dishes."
A few hours later, Garfield was out of his bedroom window. Garfield's and Linda's room wasn't very interesting, with only a bed looked to be from a museum. With a mattress and pillows that weren't too comfortable, nor was it as hard as a rock. The blankets were worn out, all decorated with faded pictures of galaxies, stars and aliens. A simple wardrobe a mirror stood at one end; a cheap unused desk stood at the other.
The views were picturesque. The bright sun setting down on the Oregon mountains. Garfield looked at the pretty sun and blinked.
He was kneeling down on the ground. The darkness was surrounding him, blood still covered his body, but all of it was dried up. He can hear nothing, feel nothing, think nothing. If he wanted to he would have knelt there until the sun exploded, he wanted it to end. He can't think, can't feel, he can't do anything. He heard the train, he heard the blaring siren of the horn, he saw the bright, blinding light. The grindings of the wheels. He felt the cold metal making contact with his skin. Waiting for the pain. Then a flash, sudden pain, then nothing, nothing at all. Blackness surrounded him. Then the phoenix…
"Gar?" The voice of Linda brought Garfield back to his senses. He looked to see Linda looking at him sadly, like a doctor delivering bad news to someone in a waiting room. "You know," she said with her seldomly used honey-like voice "Stella didn't mean any harm. She is still young, and it is only natural for anyone to be curious about what their parents did for a living."
Garfield said nothing. He didn't know if he wanted to go back to the abyss of his pain or talk about his pain. All he can do was grunt as a response.
"Just. Please don't be angry with her Gar. She is just a young girl."
At this, Garfield looked up to his wife and sighed heavily. "No. I am not angry at her. It's myself." He said, reluctantly. He looked on at the view. Refusing to think about his past. The Doom Patrol. The Titans. They were gone now. Only talked about in history books and in the fading memory of the elderly.
"How could I let things get this bad? You know what they would do if we don't make rent" he said pointing at the distance as if talking about an unspoken enemy "You know what happened to the Browns over the hill."
Linda nodded "But they missed payments three months in a row. This is our first time in almost twenty years."
Garfield looked on at the sunset as if it was the jury about to plead either guilty or not guilty, unsure on what to say or what to do.
"It doesn't matter. They can't look weak in front of Black Adam or the Penguin or Luthor or the other landlords. They have to punish people, otherwise, they will end up like Mr Freeze who was seen as 'soft' to the people in Alaska and parts of Canada. Or Two-Face who was seen as 'too weak' to rule Seattle."
Linda paused, more interested in her dirty fingernails than what Garfield was saying. By the time the sun was barely visible, by a mountain blocking it, Linda said "You know. You can just tell them that they will get double next month, Garfield. I am sure that they can be reasonable when they want to be."
Garfield paused, then looked at his wife like how a father would tell his children that Santa wasn't real. "These are Victor Stone's children Linda. And last time I checked; they don't do reasonable."
And with that, Garfield laid down in the bed and fell asleep, before his head hit the pillow.