This chapter is proof that CYBORG'S NOT DEAD! So many people have been giving me grief and flames about that, but he'snot. This is a whole chapter about his liveliness.

Disclaimer: I do not own the TT, but last year someone told me I did for an April Fool's joke. IT WASN'T FUNNY.

Dedication: To M$ because he's hot. Kidding. KIDDING!

Cyborg tilted his head slowly, trying not to move his already injured arm. It was going to be fixed soon, but he didn't want to bust it up any morethan it already was. He sighed slowly as he remembered the bed he USED to sleep in, when he was with the Teen Titans. When he had returned to their place, it had been deserted, and they had never came back. He missed Robin, Starfire, and Raven. But most of all Beastboy. His best friend must have been heartbroken at the thought of leaving his beloved home, and leaving Cyborg. But he was harboring a secret no one knew. A secret Robin would kill him for. He was secretly in love with Starfire. And, Cyborg knew for a fact, that she loved him. If only he knew where she was. . . then he heard his arm/phone ringing. He tilted his head slowly and painfully and opened the hatch. "Hello? He grunted.

"Hello, Cyborg.This is your repair guy. We're open now, if you want to fly in for a quick repair." The man was gruff and had a raspy voice.

"How much, man?" Cyborg queried.

"About 500. Cheap, too, for that kind of equipment."

"Oh..all right, then. I'll give you your money after I'm satisfied." And with that, Cyborg hung up.

Cyborg was at the shop, looking at the familiar surroundings. "Hey, dude, do you think that you can put a GPS system in my arm? I. . . .kind of need it."

"Sure, whatever you want. But the price is gonna go up." The technitian smiled an evil grin.

"Like hell it will. I've got the GPS, and all I need you to do is put it in. That takes about 5 minutes. You don't need to charge more. So forget it." Cyborg smiled right back.

"Fine. But I can't guarantee a good job." The tachnician growled. "Now, I'm gonna put you to sleep. . ." And with that, he injected something in his bloodstream. Cyborg felt his lids go heavy, and fell back into a deep, dark sleep.

When he woke up, the man was standing over him with a flashlight. "Wakey wakey, little Cyborg." He crooned. "I need my money."

Cyborg took out a small wallet from his jacket pocket and pulled out a credit card. "I'll do it." he said, and swiped it into his arm. His account came up. He withdrew the amount that he needed, and it came out another slot in his arm. He handed it to the technician.

"Here," he muttered, "stop saying I pay too little."

"Ahh, but you do" grinned the technician, "I just charge too little."

Cyborg turned and walked away, back to his tiny apartment downtown. It was a piece of shit. There was nothing there, and he really needed to get a new place. He sighed, and settled down on the tiny one-person recliner.

Suddenly he heard a tiny fluttering in his small, grimy window. He turned, but no-one was there. He went to look out the window. There, clinging loosely to the dirt-covered hook was a smalll piece of purple cape. He snatched it away before the wind took it. On it said, 10:00. our old hangout. -love, Starfire.