Brother Blood ducked down a nearby alleyway, dodging swift behind a filthy dumpster just as the police car roared past the mouth of the alleyway. They didn't stop, but he waited a full two minutes as the siren's faded away before he re-emerged, willing his breathing to slow.
Query, he sent out, folding his arms across his chest-plate as he allowed himself to calm down.
Four Minutes Power Remaining
"Damnation," he cursed, resisting the urge to slam his metal fist into the alley wall. He didn't have the strength to carry through right now. But his blood boiled, crying out for revenge. And he'd have it. No one defied Brother Blood. And even fewer stood in his way.
Brother Blood debated what to do next. He needed a power source. Another store was out of the question, the Titans would be up in force for the next few days. He could shut down but during that time he'd be utterly helpless, unaware of the outside world. Still, if he could shut down for perhaps a few days, let the heat blow over, he could then try and find a new power source. He wouldn't restore any energy but it wouldn't cost him anything either. Yes, he thought. That would be best for now. His dignity again had taken a blow, a battle had been lost. But in the end, one battle did not matter. It was the war that truly counted. And he would win that.
Brother Blood was about to initiate his plan when his installed cybernetic sensors detected something previously unnoticed.
He was not alone.
Blood whirled around, hands upraised, preparing to fight or flee as was necessary. But whoever was there was keeping to the shadows. He could only barely make them out in the dim light of the alleyway. A shadowy outline. Short-haired, male likely, though it was impossible to tell gender, the figure's body was obscured by some sort of flowing half-robe. He couldn't tell the color. The figure made no gesture, even as Blood assumed a combat stance.
Damn, he thought. I don't have time for this. Already he could feel his precious seconds ticking away.
"Who are you!" he roared. "What do you want!"
"Is that any way to thank your rescuers?" came the reply, the figure holding out his arms as if genuinely expecting an answer to his question. His voice was rich, cultured, with just a hint of a accent. But young too. Couldn't have belonged to a kid older than twenty. Blood's eyes narrowed, and both of them lit up a bright crimson. Well whoever it was, they would soon be very useful to him. Perhaps he could shut down power just enough to keep his head going and have them carry him...
A soft laughter split the air, and Blood's eyes opened wide with shock, the red glow fading in seconds.
A similar, soft red glow was coming from the figure in the alleyway, pinpricks of crimson light against a black, shadowy backdrop.
"Who are you!" shouted Blood angrily. Damnit, I'm running out of time.
"Relax, Brother Blood," intoned the figure. A motion, and something came flying out of the darkness. Instinctively, Blood caught it. It was a power-cell. Just the sort he'd been needing. "Here," came the voice again. "It wouldn't do to have you simply drop off your feet any minute now. We need to wait for Deathfang to get back."
"Death... fang...?" asked Blood, frowning. Even as he slid the power cell into place (neatly inserting it into a hollow space in his arm) and allowing power to flood back into his body. He felt some of his nervousness dissipate, but not all of it. However this was, they obviously knew a great deal about him. He'd been addressed by name. And worse, whoever they were, they were powerful telepaths in their own right. They had resisted his power.
Something tugged at the back of his mind. A nagging sense of... déjà vu.
"Ah yes, Deathfang," said the figure, answering his earlier question. "A bit on the slow side but he does at least understand how to arm and detonate an explosive. Like the one set into the veterinary clinic," it added, letting that last sentence hang ominously in the air.
"You arranged for the explosion. You knew it would draw the Titans away," stated Blood, though that much seemed obvious enough. He did not add 'you allowed me to escape.' But that too was clear. The only thing that wasn't was why.
"Indeed... much easier if we could talk to you now, as opposed to simply breaking you out of jail," replied the still-shadowy figure. Blood frowned, taking a step forward. He needed to see who he was dealing with. Suddenly, however, the figure shifted, his crimson gaze turning to just past Blood, and he felt a sinking feeling as a shadow... a very broad shadow, fell over him. "Ah... Deathfang," intoned the boy. "How nice of you to join us."
Brother Blood gasped and stumbled backwards.
Deathfang's name had clearly been well earned. The monstrosity towered high over Blood, no small man himself, almost twice his height and just as broad, with thick, powerful muscles. Humanoid in shape, the figure standing before and towering over Blood was clearly no human. Not anymore, at least. It was an animal. A monster. The primary DNA benefactor to the beast seemed to be the wolf, evident by the thick clumps of night-purple fur that stretched across it's frame, in the slope of it's forehead, in the thrust outward nuzzle. And, most especially, in the sharp fangs that seemed entirely too big for it's mouth. Hot spittle escaped from between the creature's pointed incisors as it growled down at Blood.
The former HIVE Headmaster took another step back in outright horror, stumbling over loose garbage and nearly losing his footing. As he looked up again, he noticed the monster wasn't entirely as inhuman as his first fearful gaze had revealed. A suit. The beast was dressed as a human at least. It wasn't much more than an elaborate black and red pair of spandex boxers, complete with a belt of some sort containing a number of small vials attached to the side, but it was something.
Blood, slightly less scared now, slowed his retreat, but it was already too late for him.
As Blood stumbled backwards one last foot, determined to make it his last and turn to face this Deathfang, he bumped into a rather solid figure behind him. The shadowy individual he'd been addressing either. Before he could fight back the figure had wrapped his arms around Blood, restraining his arms and trapped him in a very powerful headlock.
"What is the meaning of this!" roared Blood, thrashing about angrily.
Despite his strength, enhanced by his cybernetic implants, he couldn't shake off the figure, which he could now tell was distinctly male (the lack of soft flesh pressing against his back was indication enough). He had Blood in a very powerful lock and seemed to almost instinctively know where he was going to move before he did. Blood was outclassed instantly.
"Who are you!" he shouted, still struggling. He wasn't about to let some two-bit punk and a damn werewolf destroy him! He was Brother Blood! Headmaster of HIVE academy!
But the next words from the boy chilled him to his very soul.
"Don't you know... father...?"
Father!
Brother Blood screamed as a sudden pain shot through his neck, and he could distinctly feel the boy's teeth piercing through it, not unlike a vampire's. The sense of déjà vu had gotten steadily stronger moment by moment, but this singular act had told him exactly what was happening, and in an instant, it all came flooding back to him in a wave of memories.
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"Ours will be an order to bring light to the darkness," intoned Brother Blood, his white-hair clearly visible even to little Sebastian as he began his speech. Began practicing that was. All he did these days was practice his speeches in front of a mirror, even more rarely gave them to those who served under Blood. And still rarer was when he would actually act upon those speeches. Work to take what was rightfully his by title and by birth.
Brother Blood had grown old and useless.
Sebastian grinned as he inched his way into the room, feeling the naked knife press against his wrist, concealed behind his back, as he stepped inside, his ceremonial red robes swishing against his feet as he took step, after cautious step, towards Brother Blood.
"... take control of our destiny...!" continued Blood, unaware of Sebastian's approach. "The blood of our enemies will flow...!" he continued, ranting, fist upraised as if in glorious triumph before he caught sight of movement in the mirror. He relaxed marginally when he saw it was only little Sebastian, his most eager and attentive student. How old was he again? Wondered Blood. Fifteen, sixteen? My he was starting to grow big...
"Hello Brother," intoned Sebastian, bowing his head respectfully as he neared him. Brother Blood smiled into the mirror, smiling at Sebastian's reflection, then turned himself back to his own reflection.
"Ah Sebastian... so very good of you to join me."
"Forgive me, Brother, but I heard you and... I wished to listen," he said, forcing himself not to smirk. Forcing his hand to stay where it was. Just a few more moments...
"You are always such a good student, little Sebastian... so very attentive in your studies... both in your studies and during my sermons. It should be no time at all before you're ready to lead us yourself," said Blood, a trace of senility slipping into his voice. He was old. He was weak. It was his time.
And Sebastian was more than ready to lead now.
Brother Blood frowned lightly, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Forgive me Sebastian my mind is addled... I fear I've missed your birthday once or twice... how old are you now? Fifteen? Sixteen?" he asked, starting to turn back around, his pristine white robes bearing the symbol of the horned skull. However, as he turned, he stopped, his eyes wide. Sebastian held up his dagger, and with his free hand grabbed a handful of Brother Blood's robe to yank him in close.
"Seventeen," he said. "To the day... father."
Sebastian's knife plunged deep into his father's heart, and he gave it a good, solid twist. His tutors had taught him well. He knew how to fight, but more importantly, he knew how to kill.
The elder Brother Blood fell to the ground with nary a sound of protest. His time had come. His lineage was cursed. Six whole generations ago, his bloodline had been blessed and cursed. Blessed with power, with control, with blood. And cursed, with death... and still more blood.
Sebastian withdrew the knife from the body of his dead father and, without any sign of revulsion, licked it clean, savoring the taste. It was but the beginning. Within moments, the knife fell from his hands to clatter against the ground, and he sank to his knees, dropping down to tear open his father's robes and feast upon his rich red blood, which poured forth from the wound like a fountain. An elixir.
He drank deeply, and Sebastian ceased to exist.
He arose, moments later, wiping the blood from his lips, and his eyes glowing crimson.
He was Brother Blood.
The seventh.
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"... and not even the Titans will be able to stand against us! For we shall rule over the world and all shall bow before you, my chosen."
"Brother Blood! Brother Blood! Brother Blood!" chanted the children. And he basked in their adoration. The orphanage was a far cry from the sophisticated technology he had enjoyed in the HIVE academy, but it would do for now. And their public front, as an orphanage for "gifted" youngsters, would allow him to find new students in little to no time at all.
Not even Cyborg would be able to stop him once his students had been... properly educated.
Blood stepped down from the platform, drawing down the hood of his robe as he slipped into an adjacent corridor. The instructors would deal with the students now. He had simply needed to motivate them. Not the easiest thing to do now that he was so outwardly hideous. Still, what was it people said about beauty? Being something about the soul, not the skin? Blood well believed them.
"Excellent work, Brother," said one of his acolytes. One of the older orphans, a boy about fifteen or so. Abandoned by his parents. Blood had taken an immediate liking to this one, and had named him his second. To take over in the highly unlikely event that Blood should meet an unfortunate demise.
As Blood turned his head, striding down the corridor to continue his work, even his high-tech sensors could not see the young boy's face twisted into a mocking sneer as he glared at Brother Blood's back.
Looking for a point to place his own dagger.
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Brother Blood screamed again, angrily trying to throw off what could only have been his son, even as the boy sunk his teeth in deeper, eagerly drawing out his blood, sucking him dry like a vampire. Even as he did so, Blood could feel his power-cell failing him. The boy had given him a dud! He'd lied to him! He'd betrayed him!
The man born Sebastian Blood, known throughout the world as Brother Blood, the notorious criminal, and among his followers as the seventh man to bear that title, fell limp in his offspring's arms. And his son, gleefully, let Blood fall to the ground, limp and lifeless, his skin pale and drained, his mechanical attachments black and powerless. He was quite dead.
But what new evil had awoken to take his place?
The new Brother Blood grinned, wiping the blood from his lips onto the back of his gauntlet, not caring about the smears. He could clean them later. His former father's blood hadn't been all too good either, it was thick was synthetic oils and the like, which had been needed to sustain the mechanical parts of him. All in all, it had been rather disgusting, but he'd gladly choked back the foul taste if it granted him power. Before him, Deathfang's impressive purple-black visage stood hunched over, his expression surprisingly intelligent for a slavering monster. He was waiting patiently.
"Do it," said Blood.
Deathfang immediately reached down to the belt at his side, withdrawing a small silver object which had previously been unnoticed amongst the green-filled vials that dominated much of his waist. Bending down low and with surprising delicacy for one so big he tilted the former Blood's head to one side, exposing the slot in the back of his head. The same as with Cyborg, the old Blood had been able to link his mind, his thoughts, directly into any computer system with a suitable outlet, not unlike the object in Deathfang's hand. He slid it into place in the back of Blood's head, and clicked a tiny red button on the side.
The old Brother Blood's body twitched, then ceased to move.
The new Brother Blood grinned to himself, watching as his father's thoughts, his memories, everything about him were being downloaded onto the device that they'd brought along. That had been the real reason Deathfang was here, in truth. To get the information. Blood was a little irritated he had to be present for such a delicate family affair but he supposed there was no helping it. This information was too valuable to risk failure.
Finally, the device gave a soft, near inaudible click, and Deathfang removed it, holding it out to the new Brother Blood. He accepted it, placing it into the folds of his robes for safekeeping. It was important to him, in a sense it was his lineage. All the power of Blood was now his, and so was all of his memories, the information stored in his mind, and oh so much more. The new Brother Blood should have been very thankful to his father. Most of their former Brother's had been lucky to find a journal or the like from the previous Blood, leaving each to work out the nuances of their power to themselves.
Oh yes, the new Brother Blood was very, very thankful.
He lifted up his foot, covered in a heavy metal boot... and slammed it down hard on the former Brother Blood's head, shattering bone, crushing metal, and slaying him instantly. A quick, painless death.
"We're done here... we should get back," said Brother Blood. He turned as if to depart, but paused and offered a glance over his shoulder at Deathfang. "You'd do best to show your other face before we leave... wouldn't want the villagers coming after you with silver bullets now, would we?"
Deathfang growled, not appreciating the joke in the slightest, but reluctantly saw the wisdom of his decision and stepped past Brother Blood to the mouth of the alley, reaching down to pick up a discarded trench coat he'd left there earlier. It was soiled and covered in patches and tiny rips but suitable enough for what he needed. A brown fedora hat lay beside it. Deathfang left that on the ground for the moment, as he reached down with his free hand to his belt and drew forth one of the vials resting there. Drawing it forth into the light, it become more obvious what the purpose of the device was. It was a clear plastic vial, tipped with metal with a long, thin point, which could only have served one purpose.
Two thirds of the vials along the belt were a sickly neon green, the remaining third, those located towards the rear, were a dark, thick forest green. It was the latter kind that Deathfang had drawn from his belt.
And now, with little hesitation, plunged into his arm.
Deathfang growled darkly, as always feeling the delicious pain that accompanied the injection of the anti-serum. Whereas the serum itself, the neon green goo contained in the other vials, brought a feeling of pure ecstasy and release, this brought a painful re-awakening, even it dulled his senses and drained his strength, leaving him weak and powerless once again.
It also wrought a physical transformation. The being known as Deathfang shrunk, his body contracting painfully in on itself, muscles shrinking, skin drawing more tightly against it's smaller, new frame... which was a mere five feet in height, nowhere close to the hulking monstrosity he'd been moments earlier. The night purple fur shrank and then faded, vanishing into pores of his pale skin everywhere but atop of his head, which turned black as night and short in length. His uniform, the stylized red and black spandex shorts, previously tight, now were loose-fitting but comfortable on the thinner hips. Finally, the transformation complete, Deathfang, now in the form of a human male no older than sixteen, gathered up the coat and hat and placed them upon himself to conceal his features. The features of yet another criminal of Jump City, formerly known as the armored menace Adonis. His true name was unknown.
"I hate doing that," grumbled Adonis, shivering inside of his trench coat, the chill night air reaching his bare chest inside. He shivered for other reasons too. He hated being human. It made him so nervous, so vulnerable.
So weak.
"We go," intoned Blood, guiding his ally to the end of the alleyway, where the two of them found a waiting black limousine. It's driver paid them no attention, despite their peculiar garments, as they opened up the back and stepped inside. Once secure, the limousine sped off at a fair speed, leaving the scene of the crime behind. Leaving behind the body of the former Brother Blood. As it sped away into the night, the license plate on the limousine became visible to casual passer-by (had any been present, for none were). It read "WILSON."
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Author's Notes:
Brother Blood's son rising to slay his father and become the new Brother Blood is, of course, comic inspired. As is the seventh Blood working to take control of orphans and brainwash them, then being slain by one of them, though the ages I modified to fit into the animated Titan universe. In the comics, each Blood was slain when they reached age 100 (their aging ceased when they assumed the role) but it struck me as remarkably easy to know when you're going to kick the bucket. So here, I changed it to as soon as their son hit seventeen. Ideally, were this made into an actual episode of Teen Titans, I would've picked Michael Rosenbaum as the voice actor for the new Brother Blood. He will, of course, be primarily based on the eighth Brother Blood seen in the comics, though modified slightly to fit into the animated Titan-verse. The mention of Blood having synthetic oil as well as blood in his veins refers to an event in the comics where Brother Blood (the new one) bit Cyborg in an attempt to drain his blood and gain his power, but promptly spat it out after discovering the awful taste. Deathfang, of course, is Adonis and the purple were-beast from 'Beast Within.' The nature of his newfound powers will be explained more in-depth later. The limousine and in particular the license plate doubtlessly raised a few eyebrows. It'll be explored later as well. Next chapter: Four Titans deal with a jailbreak, while Robin takes on a far more difficult task.
Pnaixrose: I've taken a great deal of time to re-read the story and ensure it is as accurate as possible. But thanks for noticing.
Seth Turtle: Truthfully I'm borrowing very little from the storyline except the name and one or two little elements, but I hope you enjoy all the same. And to my mind Robin is older than Cyborg, I could be very wrong. He does ride a motorcycle though.
Todd fan: Bunny Raven was cute, glad you got to enjoy it and the new season three/four episodes that'll soon be arriving in Wales. Enjoy Mas Y Menos. I'd be glad to send a summary of the episode if you think it'll help you understand. I do them all the time for Katergator.
Ray1: Not as soon as I'd like for this one. Lots of projects delaying me. But fairly soon.
Yomiori-Wolfdemon: Easily. You want a good threat? Stick me in a room with Kitten and Gigrrisklechhh. That'll motivate me, I imagine. As for Beastboy, I think you'll find him hiding in the very next chapter.
Penguin Pop: Of course. This story focused of course on the main five Titans, but expect appearances and/or mentions of just about every Titan character who's ever appeared on the show.
Ultimate R-Man: I get that a lot, but thanks, I appreciate the feedback. I'm planning not to make any direct references to 'The End,' hoping perhaps my story will slip neatly back into continuity, but I fear I won't be able to do it. So, as things stand, we'll see.
Hanita-Chan: I was worried the title might scare people away, and maybe the description too. Still, glad I managed to draw you in. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and hope you enjoy it all the way through to the end, whenever that comes about.
ViciousAssassin: Ah, longtime fan. Welcome, welcome, please come in. Enjoy the story. Yes, 'Annihilation' was my last 'R' story, I tend to skim around the edges of extremes for that sort of rating, but this time I figured I'd stop pulling my punches. Intense romance is to come, believe me. And that's a rather polite way of phrasing it, believe you me.
Andross: I am following animated Titan continuity for this story, not comic. Yes I am aware of Nightwing and the three Robins and all the history therein (second Robin was Jason Todd, FYI). In the current Titan comics, yes, Tim Drake is the current Robin. But this is animated, and despite there being no actual mention of his name, strong evidence supports that the Dick Greyson model is our current animated Robin.