CHAPTER TWO
He descended slowly from the swirling ball of light, the crimson Gem of Ages glowing faintly as its powers surged through him, offering the gift of flight. Black boots touched the pavement, and the warrior moved off toward the shadows. Numara was hungry. He could tell that the light of the day was already fading into evening, and soon the night would come to this alien world. He would be able to find sustenance then. First, he would have to find shelter. He could not know what dangers lurked in this strange place, a city of towers so tall that they touched the heavens.
No wonder Rancor chose to hide here. There were so many places to hide, and if the people of this world did not know him, they would not be searching for him. Numara decided almost instantly that was a good thing. He would be better off sticking to the shadows himself. Any contact with the people here could spell doom for the mission, especially since here, he was the alien.
The blue-skinned warrior found a large, metallic canister, filled to the brim with a foul-smelling substance. Garbage. It wasn't the most sanitary place, but it would make do for the time being, as he decided how to go about finding Rancor.
He sat behind the container in silence, breathing softly as he thought of how he had come here. The Elders, for the crime of treason when he had unwittingly allowed Rancor into the city, had banished him from the homeworld, leaving him adrift in the Void. The embarrassing ordeal had resulted in irreparable damage to public and civilian structures, including the archaic House of Order. He still was not sure how long he had been left in the Void before the Elders had allowed his father to contact him.
He wondered how he was to find Rancor, and realized there was only one possible solution. He had to figure out how to get home from this world. His enemy would be doing the same thing.
If it was possible, they just might cross paths again. This time, Numara would not allow himself to be used. Rancor would know he was there, but at the same time, he had the Gem of Ages at his disposal.
That would have to be enough.
* * *
Beast Boy had really dug himself in deep this time. He really hadn't planned for it, especially not to Starfire on her own special day, but it had still happened. He guessed the others had every bit the right to be angry with him. It was, after all, his own prank candle, and in the end, he was responsible for how it had wound up in the Titans' kitchen. Still, Cyborg should have suspected something when he had lit it.
Bad karma, he concluded. After all, he was always doing things like this. Why should they expect any less of him? Why should he expect less of himself? He never had in the past. In fact, he had always enjoyed it this way, to be the team's jester.
The rifts he caused between himself and his teammates were always repairable, so he didn't expect this to be any different. He would return to Titans Tower in the evening and ask for their forgiveness, and they would grant it to him. They might be mad for a few days; that was always a possibility, and he accepted it as such. He usually accepted any scorn with embarrassment, a little humor, and an occasional a splash of grace. Beast Boy was a clown—he enjoyed having fun and was always the first to make light of any situation—and usually the team accepted his antics, if somewhat reluctantly.
He stood atop the tallest skyscraper in the city. The rooftops seemed even quieter than usual, though he knew it was just the loneliness eating away at his psyche. This wasn't at all the day he had planned. He knew that if he swallowed his pride and went back home that he could put this whole mess behind him, but not at the expense of the anger undoubtedly brewing in the minds of his fellow Titans.
He felt sorry for Starfire; she hadn't deserved to be the butt of an unplanned prank. It had just happened, and while Beast Boy could find the humor in it, he could also understood how it had broken the girl's heart. After all, Starfire was the very semblance of innocence. He didn't blame her for being angry with him.
[Nonsense, Beastie. You're one of a kind. What right does anyone have to be angry with such a remarkable individual.]
Beast Boy faltered at the voice in his head. "Did I think that?" he murmured, tapping the side of his skull. "Weird."
[You deserve to be honored by your friends for who you are. They are hypocrites for feeling otherwise.]
"But I like my friends…"
[They are not your friends, Beastie. How could any friend dare be angry at you for a crime you didn't commit?]
Beast Boy fidgeted. "They don't know that for sure. How could they?"
[Don't fool yourself. They're not your friends. Imagine, if they respected you, if they cared for who you are. Do you really think they would so easily cast you aside, yell at you for lightening the mood.]
"The mood was light. It was Star's second anniversary on Earth."
[Forget that. Your pranks are your gift to the world. They define who you are, yet you are willing to give away that part of yourself because they tell you to? That is weak. Would you ask your friends to give away that piece of themselves that most defines them?]
"Of course not. That's why we're friends. But their…" Beast Boy paused. Was he having a conversation with himself? This was rapidly shooting up weird-o-meter. "Their attributes don't hurt people. My prank hurt Star's feelings."
[A prank which you were not responsible for.]
"Well, no, but it was my–"
[You can't blame yourself any more than they can blame you. Don't be a fool, Beastie. They don't like you, and it's beginning to sound like you don't like yourself.]
"That's not true!"
[Then why would they yell at you?]
Beast Boy was silent. He had no answer, and a retort could be taken as an admission. He refused admission. He cared too much for his friends. Still, without a refute, what evidence did he have? What if the voice in his head was right?
It frightened him.
The green-skinned alien raced to the edge of the building and leapt into the sky. Reaching with his mind to the very molecules within him, he triggered the transformation. Within moments, he had changed, morphing from his humanoid form into a hawk. He raced for a dark alley, a place where he could contemplate what the voice in his head was saying. Was he beginning to question his allegiance to the Teen Titans?
If he was, he didn't know where the questions were coming from.