Summary: While the Titans wait for their late leader, an intruder breaches their security.
Author's Note: See Part 1
Acknowledgements: See Part 1
Disclaimer: All the characters are owned by DC Comics and Time/Warner; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome!
Copyright: February 2003
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Chapter Four
Day 11600hrs Zulu: Titans Tower
New York City, NY
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The Flash glanced impatiently at the wall clock. It was 11:00 a.m. local time. He zipped to the window and looked out. He zipped to the kitchen and made himself a sandwich. He zipped to the table and ate it.
He looked at the kitchen clock. It was 11:01 a.m. He sighed. "What's--" He began, and zipped back to the briefing room. "--keeping him?"
Argent looked up from her compact mirror and glanced at Damage. They rolled their eyes and shook their heads. Oh, brother, they communicated wordlessly. The 'elders' were at again. Bored by the inactivity, Damage returned to the handheld electronic game he'd been playing. Argent took out her black nail polish and started concentrating on her nails.
The Flash zipped to the boat docks and tapped his foot. He zipped back to the conference room and tapped his foot. He looked at the clock. 11:05.
Arsenal ignored him, absorbed on balancing an arrow on his fingertip. He was currently kicked back on his chair, his feet up on the conference table, whistling something catchy under his breath.
The Flash zipped across New York Harbor and zoomed through the Manhattan lunch rush hour traffic. He caught two would-be daytime muggers, three would-be purse-snatchers, and saved one child from being hit by a car. He returned the little boy to his hysterical mother and zipped back to Titans Tower.
He checked the clock. 11:15 a.m. His shoulders sagged. He let out a deflated breath and sat down.
Argent listened to the tune that Arsenal was humming. She finally recognized it, 'It's The End Of The World As We Know It.' The title gave her momentary pause, recalling the current crisis. It probably was the end of the world, she thought. Shrugging she went back to her nails. Still, no excuse not to look her best, she decided.
She waved her hand under Damage's nose. "What do you think of the color? Cool, huh?"
Damage stared at the black nails against her ghost-like white skin. Quirking a single eyebrow, he turned to her expectant gaze.
"They're black," he said with finality.
"Titanium black," she corrected. "It's way awesome, don't you think?"
Damage stared at her. "They're black," he repeated, shrugging. "Just like always."
Argent grimaced, taking back her hand.
"A lot you know," she grumbled. "It's a completely different shade of black. That was midnight black. This is titanium black. Any idiot can see that!"
Damage rolled his eyes upward and went back to his game. Argent continued doing her nails. The Flash began to thrum his fingers in time to Arsenal's humming. Sitting at the head of the conference table, while attempting to concentrate on some weekly reports, Troia paused in her reading.
"Wally, if you don't stop that, I may have to kill you," she warned evenly. He stopped immediately, removing his hand from the conference table.
"Sorry," the Flash murmured, embarrassed. And then in the next breath asked, annoyed, "What time is it? The clocks here are all wrong. They say it's only eleven something. It's gotta be way past that! He's late!"
Troia spoke without looking up from the papers she was studying.
"It's 11:18," she said with forced patience. "There's nothing wrong with the clocks. Nightwing said he was on his way. He'll get here when he gets here."
The Flash zipped to the clock and checked the battery to see if it was still charged. It was. His shoulders slumped in defeat, he slinked back to his seat. As he passed Troia, her charts fluttered slightly and one flew off the table.
She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly between her thumb and forefinger. "I was looking at that!" she said annoyed. The paper was instantly replaced in front of her. "Wally, will you sit down!? You're driving me crazy!"
Argent and Damage again exchanged wide-eyed looks. The Flash acting like a ping-pong ball was one thing. Troia angry was not something they wanted to be around. The fallout could be ugly. They nodded surreptitiously and slowly began to get up from their seats.
"And you two aren't going anywhere, either," Troia added. "You still owe me some back homework assignments, remember?" She shot them both pointed looks. "Your tutor reported that you two have been falling behind on your work--again."
The kids both gave her indescribably rebellious looks--as only kids can when discussing homework that's in arrears. Troia shook her head and smiled. Standing up, she walked over to where the two Teen Titans were now sitting slouched defiantly on their chairs.
Placing a hand on a shoulder each, Troia addressed them gently. "Grant, Toni," she began. "We had a deal. You can live and train at Titans Tower as long you continue your education. Now, I'm not going to have grab you each by a wrist or an ankle and dangle you off the Brooklyn Bridge, am I?" she asked, smiling sweetly.
Both teens felt a sudden chill run down their spines. Damage swallowed and shook his head, 'no.' Argent did likewise. They each grabbed their backpacks and pulled out their schoolbooks and got to work.
Troia looked up and caught Arsenal's amused look. She gave him a quick wink. Sometimes it paid to be the strongest.
A sudden whirlwind blew books, papers, pens and pencils in a simulated snow shower.
"Wally!" Troia yelled sharply.
"What?" the Flash asked innocently. He was lounging in his assigned seat, feet up on the table, one hand clasped behind his head, a bottle of cherry cola in the other.
Arsenal chuckled softly. The Flash shot him an irritated look. "What's so funny, Quiver-breath?" he growled.
"I'm just glad it's you and not me she's mad at for a change," Arsenal said easily. The Flash grinned sheepishly. The next instant, he was gone again. Arsenal gave Argent and Damage a rakish smile. "Yep, kids. I'm sure glad it's not me for a change."
The Teen Titans both gave him an answering smile.
"Where is he?" Starfire demanded. She stood in the open door, looking regally upset.
"Who, Wally?" Arsenal asked, knowing fully well that wasn't whom she meant. "He just zipped out again. He'll be back in a--" The Flash was back in his seat. "--flash." He gave her a broad smile. Starfire glowered at him.
"You know very well that I'm speaking about Nightwing," she said sharply. "I have an important shoot at one o'clock. Who does he think he is? Ordering us to wait like trained dogs!"
Damage and Argent each held their breaths.
"Here it comes," Damage muttered.
"Be ready to duck under the table," Argent replied out of the side of her mouth.
"Where is he?" Starfire repeated, her anger escalating.
"He's on his way," Troia said quietly, not looking up from her papers. "And you know Nightwing. He gets busy with his cases and he--"
"--And he forgets!" Starfire finished, exasperated. "About us in other words. When his Master calls, he forgets about everything else!"
"That's not fair, Kory!" the Flash interrupted.
Starfire ignored him. "Arsenal's already briefed us on the situation. What we should be doing now is drawing up our battle plans, not waiting around sitting on our as--"
"Uh-uh-uh!" Arsenal interrupted, with an easy grin. "We have minors here, Your Highness. Let's keep it clean, now."
Starfire turned on him, her hands beginning to glow. Arsenal immediately jumped to his feet and assumed a defensive stance.
"Roy! Kory!" Troia called, shocked by how quickly the discussion had turned deadly.
"Whoa, Your Mighty Royal Highness," Arsenal said, his cold eyes belying his light tone. "We just cleaned up this place after your last imperial tantrum." As he spoke, he circled the Tamaranian princess, never taking his eyes off her. The archer was under no delusions about his ability to dodge her starbolts should she decide to let loose.
Starfire's regal stance was in direct contrast to Arsenal's. She glared imperiously at him.
"How dare you speak to me like that!"
"You keep threatening your friends and teammates with those starbolts, and I'll do more than talk, Princess!" Arsenal shot back, flexing his muscles just so, thus preparing several ready-to-throw weapons. "And let me give you a word of warning. When it comes to fighting against dangerous women, I'm no gentleman like the Wingster. I don't pull my punches."
Starfire's eyes blazed a moment longer, and then her anger dissipated almost as soon as it had appeared. She dropped her arms down at either side. She looked at him sadly, a single tear finding its way down her cheek.
"Hey, Kory," Arsenal protested. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you--!" Starfire shook her head at this, and waved away his guilt feelings.
The others stayed back a moment longer, not daring to approach the volatile Tamaranian princess until they were sure the danger had passed. Kory walked to the large viewing window and gazed out at the Statue of Liberty. She stood still for a long moment without saying anything. Finally, she spoke without turning.
"I heard that Oracle is really a woman," she said softly. Arsenal exchanged a quick glance with Troia. "He spends so much time online talking to her. I've lost him, haven't I? We're never going to--not ever again," she said in quiet sobs. "I thought when I came back that we'd--but it's never going to--" She choked, struggling to get the words out. "It's over--"
Without saying anything, Troia immediately went to her friend and took her in her arms. Arsenal and the Flash looked away, neither able to bear her pain.
Argent nudged Damage, question marks in her eyes. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. Neither had a clue, but then that was par for the course when it came to the original Titans' continuing soap opera. And this thing between Starfire and Nightwing had never been fully explained to either of them.
Taking Starfire under her wing, Troia led her out of the briefing room. "Wally, call us when he gets here." The Flash nodded.
When the two women were out of earshot, Arsenal turned to the two teens. "Hey, kids, feel like playing little hooky?" At their eager nods, he added, "What do you say to a little combat training?"
"All right!" Damage cried, throwing his pencil down. Argent jumped up in excitement.
"Let's go!" she said, abandoning her schoolwork.
"When Donna finds out, Roy, you'd better be in another continent," the Flash warned. Arsenal flashed him his patented devil-may-care grin.
"Your problem, Wally, is that you never learned how to ditch class," Arsenal said, following after the kids. "Now me--I still hold the record at Star City High School for most classes skipped!"
"Now that's something to brag about," the Flash returned sardonically.
The security alarms suddenly went off.
****
Day 1
1600hrs Zulu: JLA Watchtower
Luna
****
The Atom had held their undivided attention.
"And that's about it," he said. "They did approach me with their project proposal. Wanted me to join them, and as one put it, add my considerable academic credentials to their grant proposal. I politely declined."
He looked up at Batman and shrugged.
"I told them I dealt in science fact, not fantasy. While the recent faster than light experiments seem promising, they're still in their infancy. I know that time travel is a fact. Our battles with the Time Trapper and even Parallax were too real for me to deny its existence. Dr. Fate and others who can control arcane powers seem able to manipulate time--as illogical as that may seem to a physicist such as myself." He shook his head and shrugged.
"But we know that it happens. As for our current Earth science and whether we're anywhere near such dramatic breakthroughs--as a matter of fact, a colleague of mine, Dr. Ripley Hunter and his partner, Dr. Jeff Smith, actually built a time machine. Before he disappeared, Hunter claimed to have traveled to the past on many occasions." The Atom paused thoughtfully.
Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman exchanged glances at Hunter's name.
"Other than Hunter, I know of no reputable scientist, scientific institute, science department, or government study that claims to be near any kind of practical application in the field of temporal studies. End of story."
"Why didn't you say anything earlier?" Batman asked. "When the original call came up."
"I'd no idea that Westfield had actually received any type of funding for his project. I mean it all seemed so fantastic. Plus, his theories were all so radical--completely different from the norm."
"What do you mean, Ray?" Wonder Woman asked.
The Atom brought his hand up to his chin. "Most physicists think of time as linear. It goes forward, but can't go backwards. Once something happens, it can't be revisited. In practical application, we've seen that this isn't true. We've had visitors who claim to come from our future. The frightening aspect--what makes travel to the past so dangerous--is that a traveler may inadvertently do something to change what was meant to be."
"But if that's so, Professor," GL interrupted, "doesn't that mean that nothing is actually 'meant' to be. Or maybe that if someone does change events, who's to say that the change they bring about wasn't what was supposed to occur in the first place?"
The Atom smiled broadly. "That's the point, son," he said. "We don't know. So, we're dealing with forces far beyond our ability to fully comprehend. By changing the past, we create a new present. We, in a sense, place ourselves in the roles of gods."
"Parallax!" Batman muttered.
The others looked at him. Even though Hal Jordan had saved the world when the sun had almost gone out, Batman still refused to forgive Parallax for his past egomaniacal schemes of trying to recreate the universe in his image of perfection.
The original Green Lantern and the Atom had been good friends and it pained the scientist-hero that his friend had gone mad. He turned away sadly and nodded, feeling as if he were somehow betraying the memory of his friend.
"Yes--Parallax," he said.
Black Canary placed her hand gently on Batman's forearm and faced the others. "This is getting us no where. Enough discussion on theory and what may be. Let's talk about what is! This weapon or time machine--whatever Armageddon is--the questions we should be exploring are who took it, and how do we get it back?" She hesitated slightly.
"And we need to know exactly what this 'Hypertime' thingie is that you three mentioned!" This last was directed at Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman.
Batman nodded. "I'll leave the explanations to Superman and Wonder Woman. I need to go check on my team." Without any further words, he left the briefing room, leaving Black Canary to stare at his receding back. Putting him out of her mind, she turned back to listen to Superman.
As the Man of Steel detailed their exploits with people who might or not be from their future, Black Canary began to feel strangely frightened. The Atom was right. Whenever they dealt with temporal displacements, and restarted Time on its path, they were in a sense taking on the role of gods.
Superman's words sort of dropped into the background, every now and then a phrase or word leaping to the fore: Time isn't linear. It doesn't travel in a straight line. There aren't 'parallel worlds' per se, but rather multiple time streams. Every major decision point results in a branch--with all the possible choices following their own ultimate path.
What if there were a path where she didn't become Black Canary, but instead remained a wallflower in her mother's flower shop, she wondered? What if Ollie never died in a plane crash? Could she ever go back to how it used to be? What if she and Bruce had never met at Cannes? Or kissed?
Annoyed with herself, Black Canary put the 'what ifs' in a backburner. This type of circular thinking was useless, she knew. She had to listen to what Superman and Wonder Woman were saying. Perversely, a refrain began to play in her head, repeating over and over, 'Time after time...'
She tried concentrating on the words that Superman was saying.
"Sometimes time streams bend back into themselves; therefore, we remember a long forgotten acquaintance, or locker combination. We alter history to the good by suddenly remembering a long-forgotten fact, or forget it happened and thus history changes because in our minds the event never occurred." Superman paused and Wonder Woman took up the explanation.
"In the end, time is more like a river than a straight road, with many branches, eddies, and back washes," she said. "And thus, history is always changing."
****
Day 11632hrs Zulu: Titans Tower
New York City, NY
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Nightstar stood quietly in the middle of the entranceway, waiting for them to come. It was better to present an unknown stationary target rather than an unknown flying one. The Titans' instruments were probably tracking her already. She wondered who'd be the first through the doors.
Her question was answered in the next heartbeat. After she blinked, she looked down. She was completely immobilized, arms and legs lashed tightly together with something that looked suspiciously like one of her father's jumplines. She looked up and smiled. Uncle Wally, of course.
The Flash stood a little to the side, his arms crossed casually, but radiating a no nonsense attitude.
"Who are you and how did you get in?" A low, dangerous voice demanded from behind. She turned to the familiar voice and felt her face light with recognition.
"Uncle Roy!" she cried, momentarily forgetting herself. The impossibly young and handsome archer approached her with caution, walking on catlike feet. He held his bow, ready and cocked, aiming in her general direction.
The others quickly followed.
A stunning young woman with long black hair and blue eyes appeared. She was wearing an iridescent black costume that gave the illusion of a star field, as well as, the familiar silver bracelets and golden lasso.
Aunt Donna!
Two others she didn't recognize also appeared, standing at ready. An impossibly pale-skinned girl and a powerfully built, pleasant-looking boy.
But where were--?
And then she saw her. Standing next to Aunt Donna.
The golden skin and wide, pupil-less emerald eyes identified her as Tamaranian. She wore the lavender, shimmering body armor that she had always preferred. Her flaming red hair was piled high on her head and hung low below her waist, exactly as Nightstar remembered her in her dreams.
"Mother!" Nightstar choked, barely able to utter it above a whisper, tears falling unchecked.
****
End Chapter Four