Morwen: I'll keep writing as long as you keep reviewing, deal? I liked that line too... actually cracked up writing it. I hope I keep him in character for this new one.

Vinnie the Geek: Yay! My throwing stuff in that's beside the point is good for fiction-- but gets me into trouble whenever I have to write a research paper. Glad you approve. :D

Swizz: Yeah, well, we're all allowed our little plot devices, aren't we? Remember, Beastboy's judgment was affected by telepathy, so he wasn't as bright as he normally would be. I had a bit too much fun coming up with how he kept his sanity for all those years... /grins/

Cesario Thames Belmount: Glad you did, but I think all the BB/Rae shippers beg to differ... maybe I should've stuck it at the end so that they at least reviewed. /grumbles/ I'll try to keep my updates reasonably soon.

Chapter 2

Malchior's release was sudden and painful. Nearly before the shapeshifter had retreated he exploded out from his prison. For the first split second he reveled in just being able to feel anything at all, in being able to see the blackness crowded around him, and the taste of air he greedily gulped in. Then he banged his head against the lid of the chest, his mane of silver hair barely cushioning the impact. He hissed a stream of Gaelic that I don't think I'll translate. It took only the briefest moments for him to discern something was wrong.

He lifted two puny arms slowly in front of his face. His eyes were poor-- he could barely make out the two limbs in the darkness. Malchior drew in a few more breaths with a small frail chest draped in a cloth material. It was a human chest. Realization struck. That miserable mutt had booby trapped the seal! She had tricked him! She had cast a filter on it so that if he, or anything else, passed through they would be helpless, human. It was a tricky curse, as it required the DNA of a being that could morph into at leastfive creatures for it to work, and had taken him off guard. She couldn't have cast it as she recaptured him, as it took time and several components that could only be cultivated on certain solar equinoxes. Malchior knew all this already, having taught it to her himself. She must have thought it poetic justice-- killing her would be oh so easy. He cursed her and all her descendants under his breath.

At the mall...the mall...mall...

Raven doubled over in pain-- it felt as if somebody had punched her stomach. Starfire drew the perfume bottle away in a disappointed rush of breath. "You do not find this scent of chemicals appeasing." Star placed it back on the shelf and withdrew another sample for inspection. Raven frowned, and not just because of the smell. It was almost as if... nah.

Back at the T-tower...at the T-tower...the T-Tower...T-Tower

Malchior awkwardly tried to bash through the pathetic chest with his fist and ended up with bloodied knuckles. He had almost considered giving her an easy death. Not a chance of that now. He would execute his plan even if it ended up destroying him. Much more cautious this time, the former dragon gingerly positioned his shoulder against the wood and stood. The lid groaned open, as if protesting all the misuse it had been through today. Malchior stretched awkward fragile arms confined by equally awkward fragile cloth and took a moment to gather his thoughts and become accustomed to his new form. It was much easier when his being was constructed solely of paper, and he didn't have any actual substance to worry about keeping in balance.

After consideration, Malchior decided that perhaps this new form wasn't so terrible after all. The more his questing probes had heard of the evolved Earth the more unlikely survival had seemed to him, being the dragon that he was. He had even seriously considered lying dormant for the rest of time. Surely doodling indefinitely was far better than being free for a few weeks and then being slain. His old home, Gwynedd, were he could thrive with only the occasional suicidal warrior charging in, was human-free and wild. He had lived there just fine until that Rorek-- Malchior tried to snarl and ended up doubled over coughing viciously. The bottom line: such places did not exist anymore. If he had left the Tower roaring his fury and torching whoever came his way the humans would kill him. He might take down a couple hundred with him, but he wouldn't survive. There were just too many now. It was the simple, harsh truth. His old plan was to put his treasure to use and make sure Raven's fate was sealed before some gung-ho officer went at him with a nuke, but now he actually had a chance of long-term survival, even if it was at the cost of his power. He could not only put his plan into action but watch it be carried outto the fullest. It would take a few adjustments, of course, and he would need currency for food and transportaion now, but this new twist could be dealt with quite nicely.

First thing first. He needed to find something with a decent monetary value. It was a good thing he had managed to learn what his old land was called now from the girl during his short-lived freedom. If he hadn't Malchior would have to have found a geographic map of the world and scour it inch by inch, and even then he was sure that he would have a wide range of possible places left.

Malchior knew where to look for valuables. He stumbled his first few steps to the bookcase, unsure of the lack of feet beneath him. He pinwheeled and barely managed to grab the shelf as he fell. Malchior pulled a block of books from the shelf and dropped it like a ton of bricks, surprised by the strain on his arms. They landed directly on his foot. Malchior tried to gasp and curse simultaneously-- the end result sounded like he was a choking frog with a bad cold. That girl would die last.

He ran a tentative hand over the shelf, feeling carefully for any cracks. In his period partially free she had mentioned something of two Titan's journey into her mind, ending it at "Let's just say the mirror's in a way safer place now." and actually tapped this particular shelf with a brief nod. Later on in his imprisonment, some weeks ago, he had heard some books being hit against the floor, and a click as some latch was released... and then sobbing. There was definitely something more than a mirror in here, with strong sentimental value at least. Malchior didn't care about any special trinkets holding some great meaning at the moment, but if there was a secret compartment there was always currency nearby. It was a rule of thumb in the old days of raiding towns for treasure to add to his hoard.

The shelf clicked and a thin layer of wood neatly flew up. Malchior greedily rummaged into the contents, finding a hand mirror, no doubt the same that the shapeshifter and cyborg had gotten into. It might have been fun to mess around in Raven's mind, but slowly killing all of her positive emotions was small scale compared to what he wanted to unleash. There was a plain gold ring glittering innocently next to the hand-glass. Malchior picked it up and received a jolt strong enough to leave a small welt, as if it were electrically charged. Magical, then. Melting something of this potency would no doubt release whatever energy was inside, effectively killing everybody in a five-block radius. No good there. Malchior scrambled with his fingers in the back of the safe, annoyed. There had to be something. Then he struck gold. Literally.

Malchior withdrew a small golden statue. It weighed several pounds, to the point that Malchior couldn't quite believe his luck. He turned it over in his hands greedily. It was solid gold alright. The statue itself was of an angel, poised in mid-launch off a cloud, wings half-spread wide. She, it was a she, was holding a rolled page of parchment in one hand and had partially raised a trumpet to her lips in the other. Now why would the daughter of Trigon the Terrible have a statue of a messenger angel? Odd. Not only did she have possession of the said statue, but it showed obvious signs of common handling, the polish rubbed off to merely a dull sheen in some places. Malchior, searching for some secret, turned it upside down and looked at the base. Inscribed into the gold was a simple legend. Not all futures are written in stone. The writing was clumsy, carved completely in vertical and horizontal lines. Obviously whoever scratched in this was not the gifted maker of the statue. Too bad it showed such obvious signs of handling-- Malchior would have dearly enjoyed taking such an obviously valued item and melting it down for currency, but he was relying on stealth, not brute strength, now, and such an item would be missed before he could locate his stash. He sighed in regret and dropped the statue back into it's hiding place with a small thunk.

Disappointed, Malchior was about to close the lid and paused. He drew out the mirror, careful not to activate any properties it might have. He wanted to see what he looked like as a human-- he was curious as to what form Raven had made him take. She did have to choose a previously born body for him, for the curse couldn't generate anything randomly or transit one species into another. The face of Rorek was staring back at him. Malchior didn't say anything when he saw his now long dead mortal enemy staring back at him, but simply went dead silent and placed the mirror in it's proper place. His expression could have given nightmares to a general. He carefully shelved each book individually with a calculated indifference.

The last book was sprawled on the floor, spine up and parchment akimbo. Malchior picked it up, and almost smiled. On the floor beneath it was a thick mass of green slips of paper that had evidently fallen out of the pages. He shelved the book, pocketed the cash, and prepared to leave. He was not too concerned of the child noticing this missing item. He had ample time to evaluate her character, and was quite sure that money was the least of her concerns and it might take weeks for the dough to be missed.

Malchior propped open the window, not really unconcerend with the fall. If he had taken dear Rorek's frame then it would be a matter of a few simple enchantments to get from here to the other side of the lake. From then it would be a market where he could get something more present-day and a pair of shears for this ridiculous mess of hair.

---

Raven massaged her temples and made her way straight to her room. Any patience she had with the red-head was now gone. Out of all the possible stores in that mall, which one did Starfire have to go into? It had began innocently enough, the general stroll down the aile and the occasional wrench on her arm as Star saw something of interest, but what did she have to say next? "Friend Raven, what is the secret of Victoria? Let us go and find out!" Off they were, one Tameran speeding forward at a good 60 m.p.h., dragging behind Raven by one wrist. She shuddered at the memory and took in a few deep, cleansing breaths. It was very intruiging, Raven noted, that Star always spoke up at precisely the wrong time, in precisely the wrong volume, with precisely the wrong questions. Victoria's Secret. It had to be Victoria's Secret. Why couldn't it ever be Borders, or, or Barnes and Noble, or Waldenbooks, or... Raven shook her head to clear it. Right now all she wanted to do right was read and recover from that traumatic incident.

Raven ran a hand along the spines of her books, and paused. Something wasn't right. She looked intently at the shelf, searching for an answer. Then she realized it. The books over her safe were out of order, being a set of old reference books on All That Concerns Magyck and the Uses Thereof by an Emrys M. When placed in alphabetical order a Chinese dragon was sprawled across the set. Now the dragon was sorely disfigured, looking like a Picasso drawing, theeyes where the abdomen should be, feet sprouting from a tounge, and a tail that seemed to directly connected to on long whisker. Raven's heart stopped. She used her power to remove the books and flip up the lid.

It had been rummaged through. That was obvious enough. Even the statue had been handled. Raven gently closed the lid and rearranged the books in their proper order and materialized straight through the floor, not even bothering to walk to the living room. Somebody was going to pay.

A green somebody.

---

Raven materialized before the kitchen table, patiently waiting until she was noticed. It didn't take long. The tension she brought into the room was practically tangible. Starfire did a double take and glanced nervously from side to side, and Cyborg started a little, then kept on eating his steak contendedly, Beastboy froze with a peice of something white stuck on his fork halfway to his mouth before continuing. The only one who gave any aknowledgement of her prescence was Robin-- he wove his fingers together, rested them on one knee, and nodded slightly.

Raven's voice was barely audible and devoid of all emotion when she spoke, her words evenly measured.. She scared them all witless. "Which one?" As if she needed to ask.

"Which one what?" Robin downed the last of his Mountain Dew, tossing the can to Cyborg, who promptly smashed the can on the metal side of his head. Cy winked at Beastboy as the aluminum buckled and crumpled into a flat disk. Beastboy flinched at each crack of the metal as if in actual pain. Raven waited with forced calm as Cy rolled the said disk between his palms until it was resembled a dishelveled marble. Then he caught look of Raven's expression and the grin was wiped off his face.

"Invaded my privacy. Again. What else?" Beastboy turned an interesting shade of mint and pleaded silently with Cyborg. In response, the electronic teen only shrugged in apology and hooked his thumb in the shapeshifter's direction. Beastboy pushed himself awkwardly out of his chair and threw up his hands. Raven was really livid. That wizar- dragon... thing must have tattled on him. She wasn't just rant-and-forget about it-mad, she was beat-into-a-bloody-pulp-and-dump-in-a-lake-mad

"You have thirty seconds." Raven said in that calm, devoid of life voice that meant serious trouble. "Explain yourself."

Beastboy opened his mouth and closed it again a few times, looking like a dying fish. Just as Raven's already sorely tried patience ran out the Tower alarm went off-- for once Beastboy didn't mind the searing light and foghorn level alarm. With any luck Raven wouldn't look ready to beat him with a hot metal poker until he was a crisp bloody carcass by the end of whatever fight they were in for.

In seconds Robin was at the main screen, taking in all the data various status bars were displaying. "No real threat," he called from the living room. "Just Control Freak breaking into a radio station downtown."

Raven had a nasty glint in her eye. "Does that mean that only three have to come? You, Starfire, and Cyborg?" Beastboy became several more shades paler. Bouts with Control Freak could last up to a few hours before he was finally captured. It wasn't the inevitably long lecture that would come that he was frightened of-- it was the hours, sometimes days, that would come while Raven avoided them all and left him to stew in his guilt that freaked the snot out of him. At least with the other three around he could try to strike up a good conversation, but alone...

To his horror, Robin seriously considered the question-- but his fears proved unfounded. The boy wonder shook his head after a short eternity. Not a hair on his very gelled head moved out of place. "No. He has the occasional dangerous trick up his sleeve. All of us should be there, just in case." Beastboy let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and darted his glance guiltily in Raven's direction. She glared at him, never saying anything out loud, but her meaning was clear. You haven't gotten out of this yet. "Titans, go!"

And they were off.

---

I should have said this before, but unless you've seen "The Prophecy" parts of this ff aren't going to make sense, for instance, Not all Futures are written in stone was something I stuck in that has to do with Raven's prophecy. I've never actually seen the original TT comics, but I've read somewhere that Arella translates into "Messenger Angel", therefore the statue and all. For some reason the comic Arella was one of my favorite characters-- don't ask me why-- so I decided to throw a cameo in. The statue itself wasn't in any comics/episodes that I know of, being something I pulled out of my head, but The Ring of Azar's in both the comics and, if the spoilers from Canada are right, The End pt. 2, and I'm sure most of you know that the mirror was from Nevermore.

Raven wasn't in too much of this one either, but from now on the fic will be in her point of view, at least, a good portion of it. Honest. I wasn't as happy with this one as the Prologue and Chapter 1. Oh well.

/Jedi-style hand motion/ You don't need to click the back-button without reviewing...