AN-In last chapter the four letter word could have been about fear or Tara (Tara Markov). It was up to you to decide. Both are things she can't seem to let go and they're holding her back. Also, I really don't have anything against songfics, it's just 1. I guess you're not suppose to post lyrics unless they're your own, or 2. I can never seem to fit lyrics in at good spots. I usually end up chopping the chapter up… I'm pathetic, don't I know it.

Also, this chapter may seem a little…ummmm…..strange. It was that way for me too while I wrote it. I know, I do foreshadowing really weird.

MUTE

That of a Hero
MereImage

My name is Raven.

Not Rebecca, not Renee, and definitely not Rose. Just accept the fact.

My name is Raven, and it will never change.

It's something no one can ever seem to grasp. People expect me to do what normal heroes do. I've never worn a mask in my life, and my alias is the same as my birth name. If I didn't know better myself, I would associate myself with the very people who walk this street every Saturday.

Well, almost.

These days a hero is made out to be some 'extraordinary', someone who is always there to save the day, someone who is perfect in every way. But as many say, perfection is a flaw in itself. Perfection is yet just another disappointment we will all experience in this lifetime.

Truly, there is a hero in every soul that walks this sidewalk. I was simply packaged with a different wrapping, same as my friends. A label given to us, one hard pressed to destroy. We were born with different powers, different gifts. By definition, a hero is simply a person who has endowed with great courage and strength, celebrated for his bold exploits, noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose. Everyone has that difference stored inside. Maybe that's why everyone loves a 'superhero'. It's so much easier to applaud, to daydream about someone else.

If everyone loves a hero…

Why don't they give themselves any credit?

Saving the day is overrated.

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The noise, the crowds, the continuous bustling that never gives you any piece of mind.

I hate it.

Which doesn't exactly explain why I'm standing in the middle of the most populated area downtown. Nor does it give justice to the fact that I'm dressed casually in a dark cotton sweater, hood flung up over my head, jeans bagging around my ankles.

And everyone…walks by. It's a nice feeling, invisible in a sense. At some point or another we all wish we could disappear. Avoid the lives we lead. Swiftly move undetected and get carried away with the breeze.

My back leaned against the wall, knee bent, allowing my foot to touch the structure as well. The weather was a dismal gray, small showers pouring down at unexpected times. The clouds hung over the city, at a standstill as all wind seemed to die. For a moment, it seemed as if time had stopped. But almost instantly afterward, raindrops dipped silently across my forehead. My hidden face rose but half an inch, body emotionless, neither a smile nor frown taking claim on my face.

It turned from a drizzle…to a downright pour.

I threw my head back, allowing my hood to slowly dip from concealment.

I let my eyelids settle, concealing the world for the moment. An emotion I had never felt before bubbled in the lower pit of my stomach, churning, writhing about in a contemptuous way… and all the same, it felt relaxing. It's like trying to explain of colors to a colorblind. I can't elucidate these alien feelings; it's something you have to feel for yourself. And someday, I guarantee, everyone will come across it at some point or another.

I rain brushed across my cheek, like invisible tears wiping away the pain, cleansing.

I lowered my head to eye level, starring out from my deserted alleyway to take notice of the outside world. People had begun to clear, heading for nearby shops in search of warmth from the sudden change of weather. Occasionally, a person would scurry past, umbrella bobbing, as they attempted to flag down a cab.

I watched for several minutes until finally the streets had cleared completely, the only sound was the soft patter of water falling gently on the pavement.

Until…

Someone finally came to notice me.

A girl, teenage, stared back at me. A soft blue shirt clung to her body, a simple pair of jeans on her figure. Her hands were placed in her pockets, the rain sliding down her silver white hair.

I did a double take.

Straight white hair pearled along her shoulders accentuating the cerulean color of her shirt. There was almost a soft glow about her, head tilted as she stared at me intently.

"You're a Titan, aren't you?"

Her voice was so calm… It made me wonder whether to shake my head or not. I nodded once.

She eyed me again before speaking.

"Raven. You're the one who battled Deathstoke…" Her eyes squinted placidly, receding, hugging her arms loosely to her chest. I was at a standstill, no movement, no voice.

"…."

She almost seemed…lost. But I couldn't tell for certain. Her head bowed, a delicate hand pausing to brush back a strand of silver hair. For a flicker, I could have sworn I saw myself in her.

I only had to blink for her to disappear; gone.

I rubbed the back of my head, pondering. It was revoking something I couldn't reach.

I fingered my cape only to realize it had turned back to white.

At the end of the alley, raindrops fell from the tips of my hair as I reached down to pick up a Rose, the aurora of despair clinging to its petals.

A Rose.

I blinked by eyes eccentrically, confused.

I fingered it gently, holding onto it with both hands, careful not to crush the thorns. Yet I never glanced down to look at it. My eyes were still trained on the area where the girl had vanished.

And I was a little uncertain of what really makes someone a hero. The boundary in-between.

I never found out, because at that moment, I could have sworn I had forgotten who I was.

And the rain fell even harder.

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AN- (cough)-RoseWilson-(cough)