Vinnie the Geek: Glad you didn't think it was too original. ((Sticks and stones...))

Swizz: You rock so hard. I agree that has gotten... in a slightly worsened state. It's getting really hard to find legible fics lately.

Mystyre: I'm glad you like the story so far!

Chapter 3

Jacob Johnson, or as he preffered it, "Jay Squared" stumbled onto the plane in a haze brought on partially by lack of sleep and frustration, but mostly by a bit too much to drink. He did a quick scan of all the occupants, and chanced upon a young man in his late teens/early twenties sitting by himself and glaring out the window with a rather malicious smile on his face. Jacob took in the silver, rather raggedly cut hair, solid black outfit, and the strange, crawling blue tattoo on each arm, and thought he saw a common ear to talk to. He crashed his way into the bucket seat beside the youth and heaved his backpack off his shoulder with a quiet, despairing sigh and, after a moments scrounging through his pack, pulled out a CD player and headphones that looked as if the volume was turned up high enough to be heard halfway across the room. You had to feel sorry for him. Jay never stood a chance.

Jay found himself barely spared an annoyed glance by the kindred rebel before being promptly ignored. Jay cleared his throat, but found no response. This was completely new-- Jay had been mocked, idolized, looked up to, and openly stared at, but never ignored. He tried clearing his throat again, this time managing to provoke a reaction.

"Are you quite well?" The tone implied that the speaker did not really care if he was or wasn't. Jay missed the hint.

"No. I'm sick right here." Jay attempted to tap his chest with three fingers but ended up missing, the coordination needed being drunk under the table at the moment, pausing the music so that he could carry on a conversation.

"Heart disease? At your age? How very unlucky."

Jay frowned.

"I'm Jay. Who're you?" It seemed a change in tactics was needed with this new acquaintance.

"If you're asking who I am, then I'm really a former dragon on the run for an ancient artifact that could unleash one of the most hidden and feared powers ever known to man. If you want to know what I'm calling myself for now, it's Drake Mc'Choir." Drake grinned eerily at Jay's confusion and open disbelief.

He worked his mouth a little, searching through the haze for the words needed. "What're you trying to pull?"

Mc'Choir repeated himself slowly as if speaking to a small and stupid child. "I just told you, I'm trying to provoke an ancient and hidden power-"

"How stupid do you think I am?" Jay managed to slip out.

Drake smiled pityingly. "Oh, don't worry, I've seen far worse than you in my time. Just had a conversation with a real Socrates just under an hour ago, in fact."

"Hey, man, don't try to pull anything over on me. My life's screwed up enough as it is." Jay sighed in the wistful manner of one who has seen all the horrors of the world and none of the good. Drake cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh, I can see that already. That designer leather jacket is practically falling off your poor, underfed frame." Drake plowed on, ignoring the reddening expression of his neighbor. "And anyone can see how all those sterling silver rings chaff your poor, weak, manicured hands. Wearing those headphones must be pure tortue." The speaker snorted and looked back out the window, drumming his fingers impatiently on the armrest. "When will this thing ever take off?"

"Hey, you don't know what it's like having to deal with everything that I'm stuck with." Jay took the headphones off completely.

"You're right." Drake turned back to Jay and fixed his full glare on the boy. "I have absolutely no idea what pitiful life you have been forced to struggle against all odds stoically through, so it will be no good to try and tell me."

"Well, I'm not standing for it. I'm leaving." Jay hooked a thumb at himself, declaring this proud acheivement.

"The country? A little drastic, wouldn't you say?" Drake snarled in the back of his throat like a common animal. "What are the fools waiting for?"

Jay shook his head, paused, then nodded a little. "But just because my aunt lives in the UK. I'm going to stay at her house as long as she'll let me."

Drake chuckled hollowly. "Oh, yes, go couch surfing for a few years until you either end up with a receding hairline at a second-rate burger joint or behind bars. That'll show them." Malchior had overheard the line on some soap opera or another, and though not understanding the details, knew the basic meaning. The jibe had the desired effect.

Jay stood straight up and raised his voice. The pair had attracted more than just a few eyes by now, and this did nothing for their discretion-- by now a distressed flight attendant started making her way up to the front of the plane. Through his drunken and enraged haze Jay gave Drake a very rude hand motion and a curse before swinging his pack onto his shoulder and heading back up the aile.

"My, what a temper." Drake noted in an offhand sort of way. Jay turned and hissed another slurred profanity and repeated the motion. If he had been completely sober he would never have lost his cool that easily, but Jay was already on the edge from the previous morning's events and was never a saint even before consuming all the alchohol and who-knows-what-else. "Quite amusing, actually." Drake shrugged and returned to his earlier occupation of staring out the window.

"Yeah, yeah." Jay shrugged off the attendant's polite, but firm, request to disembark with a casual flick of the wrist, "I'm leaving this plane anyways." and proceeded to make his way back to the airport.

Ten minutes later, the engines began to kick in and the pilot's voice blared over the speaker. "Finally." 'Drake McChoir' sank into his seat and prepared himself for the ride

Back to the Titans... to the Titans... the Titans... Titans...

"So..." Raven glanced over to Cyborg. The cybernetic teen was trying in vain to diffuse the tension. "That was easy." He handled the steering wheel deftly and managed to pass up the car that was formerly in front of them.

Robin joined in from the backseat of the T-car. "It wasn't even as if he was trying."

"Yes." Starfire decided to pitch in too. "I found the fighting of crime today most pleasing."

Raven turned back out the window and fascinated herself with all the cars flying by. Beastboy didn't say anything. Wise move. Raven squinted at a smiling kid waving at his heroes as the car barreled on its way. She could've sworn it was the same one that she had kept those steel beams from falling on last week, but who could be sure? The car jolted to a stop along with her thoughts at the pizza place. The Titans were regulars at the two story restaraunt, at least, that's what the banner claimed in the glass front door.

Raven picked her usual seat and waited patiently for the ritual of deciding what to order began. Beastboy and Cyborg would argue over the toppings for around twenty minutes or so, sometimes bringing in philosophy and higher powers into the debate. It always ended the same way-- half-cheese and half-pepperoni. 3...2...1...

"We'll have the meat lover's special, of course." Cyborg charged in, guns blazing. Three of the Titan's heads in unison turned to Beastboy as if they were watching a tennis match.

Beastboy half-heartedly sucked at the soda staw before replying. "Sure." The shapeshifter returned to his task, drawing the Coke only halfway up the tube before blowing it back down again.

Raven looked up ot Cyborg in surprise. This was a new developement. He tried to recover from the shock without appearing to do so. "On second thought, I'm in a mood for half and half today. How about you guys?" Robin and Starfire both nodded with false enthusiasm, emmiting the occasional "sounds good". Raven tipped her head ever-so-slightly in a nod before starting and intense study of the red and white checkered tablecloth.

Beastboy shrugged. "Sure."

Robin waved over a waitress. "The usual."

The brunette raised both eyebrows. "That fast?" Realizing what she had said, the girl turned red and stammered an apology before retreating back to the kitchen.

Lunch was a silent and dismal affair, and the ride home made it seem like a twelve-year-old's sleep over in comparison. Beastboy trudged up to the tower like a convicted criminal to the gallows, a vast contrast to the way the other three Titans dashed to get out of the danger area. Cyborg practically blasted the door down in his attempt to get inside before the torrent started. Raven cornered Beastboy before he had made it halfway to the tv. The shapeshifter cringed and mentally prepared himself for whatever was coming next-- the evident strain twisting his face.

"Don't do it again." Her duty done, Raven turned to go. Somehow seeing him quaking in terror had taken away the urge to beat him to a bloody pulp and dump him in a lake.

"W-wait, that's it?" Beastboy stuttered incredulously. "No lecture?"

Raven half-whirled back around, giving him a profile view of her face. "Do you want me to lecture you?"

"N-no." Beastboy backed up, shaking his head and holding his hands in front of him simultaneously.

"Neither do I. I don't think it's necessary and would be an utter waste of breath. But Beastboy-" Raven stopped him in mid dash. "-ever pull that again and nobody will find the body. That's not a threat. It's a promise."

"Right."

---

If there's a slight irregularity in my usual style, it's because I was utterly floored by "The End". If you haven't seen it yet, I recommend catching it on the July 16 marathon-- it's gotta be the best episode(s) yet. There isn't really much to say about this chapter, other than I hadn't originally planned to show Malchior on the plane... but then I wondered about who was sitting next to him.

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