A/N: For those of you who have read The Sandman, I apologize wholeheartedly for this chapter... as most of the information that Raven learns is of course, already known to you. Hence, the first part of this chapter will probably just be an exercise in review for you. I've gotten alot of reviews that start with something to the effect of , "...I have no idea what this whole Sandman thing is, but..." So listen up. The Sandman is a comic book written by Neil Gaiman and set in the DC universe (in other words, its not entirely far fetched to believe that Teen Titans, originally a DC comic, could crossover with Sandman, although the true nature of my crossover is somewhat devious, as you will eventually learn... if I'm feeling nice.). It depicts, among other things, a group of beings known as the Endless... basically personifications of different aspects of reality, or perhaps more accurately, of the realities of the sentient condition. It's important to understand something about the Endless... gods come and go, those lost pantheons of yesteryear rise and fall with the whim of mortal worship, some lasting longer than others, but throughout it all the Endless have watched with unchanging eyes... for even the gods are ruled by destiny, even the gods know sadness, or covet... gods know ruin, or dream of brighter futures.

Even the gods one day must die.

As the comic is named Sandman, you can guess who it focuses on the most. More in-depth, fluffy spooky information I have placed in the chapter before you.

Generally speaking, the only way to find the Sandman now is in Graphic Novel format... released by DC Vertigo. I believe you can still order it on Amazon, although it has been a while, so you might have to find a copy at a good Comic Book store or Ebay... actually, in my home town you can find the graphic novels in Waldenbooks, but it's been about 3 years since I've lived in the States so...

There are, I believe, 12 volumes to the series, starting with Preludes and Nocturnes and ending with The Kindly Ones. There are also several specials released, including The Wake (an epilogue of sorts to the series) and the Death The High Cost of Living Miniseries (In which we learn that death every once in a long while, becomes a mortal woman for a day so she doesn't lose sight of what it's like to be a part of the human condition). There are various assorted other books that fit the timeline, along with two companion series, The Dreaming, and Books of Magic. If you think Harry Potter is cool, you should see a REAL kid wonder wizard/archmage in training... Timothy Hunter. Not to bag on any HP fans out there, but I like my wiz-kids with a pinch of sarcasm and some good old fashioned teenaged angst, not to mention a mentor you might have heard of... one John Constantine. That's not counting a love triangle between Tim, a girlfriend who got caught in the lands of Faerie and who became known as the Burning Girl, and a succubus who truely loves him after he set her free and gave her her name back.

As to how Robin is connected to the Dreaming, and how he knows Delirium, well... let's just say that Del (despite me telling her not to) pretty much said his name... of course, she's insanity (no I didn't use the wrong word there, as personification of insanity, calling her insane is somewhat inaccurate, because she's exactly what she's supposed to be. Besides, if Del is in anything, she's not in herself), so her name for him is probably a bit... odd. Still, the clues will continue to be forthcoming. If you guess his connection to Sandman by all means, shout it from the mountain tops... it still won't reveal to you HOW he came to be connected that way, or what I have in store for him and his fellow bird.

Also, thanks for the protestations of my age being meaningless or, and lemme tell you this was a trip to read, sexy. I appreciate the sentiment, believe me. One of you even went so far as to say I was a role model. I am deeply touched, although I don't expect you'd want to admit something like that in public.

You don't need to worry about me quitting the writing scene. I enjoy it too much to let go. Reviews like the ones you send me, well... let's just say I'm such a glory hound. Shameless really.

Oh and before I forget... I usually don't acknowledge or thank individuals for reviews in my author's notes, because it always annoys me when I go to read a fic and half the chapter is a laundry list of return compliments. I figure, my long A/N's are annoying enough without adding to it, right? The best return compliment I can pay is to continue writing the story you guys wanna see more of, right? Well anyway, every once in a while someone will write a review that I feel needs to be answered directly, and Absentia... damn. I don't know what to say. You pretty much hit on my own feelings for the story to a tee. It's always gratifying to run into a reader who really Gets It. That's what writing is really, it's the Author putting a piece of his or her self up for public view... no matter how fictional the account, no matter how corny the story, a good writer puts themselves into the story... I try to write, at least from a certain distance, from experience. The Navy has given me a wealth of experiences to treasure, and for that I am infinitely grateful. Most of my friends back home are just finishing up college, or have maybe settled down, and most of them haven't ever gone out of their home town. I'm living in Japan right now, and I've been literally around the world... experienced cultures that I thought were amazing, or just plain pissed me off, but the point is, despite what I might say about me being an old man, that's only in comparison to the majority of fanfiction authors. In reality, I'm pretty friggin' young to have done so much.

Anyway, I got off on a tangent, as you yourself did a couple of times Absentia, but I'll forgive you if you forgive me, eh?

Role Model. Heh. Who'd have thunk it?

Hmm... since I have the potential to be a role model, does that mean I should watch my language?

Eh... fuck if I know.

Anyway, on with the show.

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"Violet flows from the wound in your chest. Black is the hole in which you rest. Your heart of gold was ripped in two. Soaked in the sickness that is you. Grey is the box that holds my head. Yellow's the wind when everyone's dead. Red is the blood dried on the rope. While green is your last hope. Colour me green - Green is the colour of my god." -Colour Me Green, The Darkest of the Hillside Thickets

Azarath had taken only three days to burn to the ground.

It had been a jewel, a city by a lake, crystalline blue waters beside white marble. Like any jewel she had her flaws, her tired, her poor, her criminal elements, but the priesthood, like any good jeweler, had cut along the flaws, shaping the city into a place that was regarded as sacred in its memory. Her piers rang with the calls of seamen, moving fish and goods in exponential amounts to both sides of the lake, her avenues and parks rang with the sound of laughter, and tears, the shouts of the restless, or angry, shrieks of children's laughter.

Life.

Trigon had come upon it like a wolf, blood thirsty and merciless. The armies fought as best they could, but how can mere mortal men, no matter how doughty their might at arms, face a god? The Lord of Hatred cast their figures into stone, and their cracked and terror struck images still grace the cracked and blackened wasteland that remains.

They went to the fight knowing that they would die. They only tried to give their leaders time to do something... anything.

They bought the life of a single girl. A single child, daughter of lost Azarath, and half demonic spawn of the Lord of Hatred, the Bearer of Scath, the Harbringer of Wrath.

A single girl, and the Azarathian equivalent of a steamer trunk. Raven had always known just how costly her life was.

She would not allow herself to disgrace that sacrifice.

The Great Library of Azarath was once a proud ediface, a monument to progress and education, a beacon in the trackless night. Some of the books there predated Azarath, some of them predated the written word...

At least, as men understood it.

All of them were destroyed or in the hands of demons, trophies of war.

Knowledge is power.

The steamer trunk had contained nothing but books. One book in particular.

However, this story is not about THAT book. This author hopes that book never sees daylight. Certainly he would never stoop to write such blasphemy.

Some things one must never trifle with.

Still, it is worth mentioning that the books contained in Raven's weathered old steamer trunk were not written by Earthly hands. They represented works too important, or too beautiful, or just too damned dangerous to let fall into the hands of Demons, or god forbid, Trigon himself.

It should be mentioned that in exchange for that steamer trunk, Raven's mother could have saved herself, or even sent a guardian to watch over her daughter.

THAT... is how important the contents of the trunk were.

So it should come as no surprise to you, dear reader, that Raven took every precaution she could think of before opening the trunk.

She locked her doors, covered her mirror. She spent the better part of the evening painstakingly drawing wards on the walls in a silvery fluid that she took great care not to touch with her bare skin. She cast every incantation she could think of to prevent scrying and eavesdropping. She searched every inch of her room for intruders or hidden surprises.

Carefully, she pulled the trunk out of her closet. It was bound with chains over every inch of its surface. Unlocking and removing the chains was a painstaking process requiring several hours work. Each link had been forged of Azarathian steel, steel that during the forging process had been quenched in the freely given blood of martyred heroes. Raven, with her half demon heritage, got a splitting headache just being near the stuff, and had to handle it with thick insulated gloves. Once this had been accomplished, she opened the trunk carefully, and looked within.

It was not full of books. Rather, there were only three books contained within. The first, and most prominant within, was a small green diary... plain and weathered. Raven had read the areas her mother had made her vow to read once, and then set it within, never to look at it again. It contained, among other things, the spells and incantations, along with the techniques for meditation, the creation of a sanctuary of Self, which she used in her career (penance?) as a super hero.

It was also her mother's diary. Arella had kept it faithfully for the entirety of her centuries of existence. Raven was sometimes curious as to the sort of woman her mother had been. However, she didn't WANT to know what it had been like for her to raise a child knowing she would be the destruction of a world. She didn't want to know how HAPPY her mother had been before Trigon had forced himself on her, didn't want to know about the dreams and aspirations she had had before Raven herself had become a burden thrust quite literally upon her.

You can only stab yourself so many times in the heart before you just can't go on.

The second book within, by far the most infamous, was a steelbound book with a large clasp and lock set upon it. The Book had always existed, and all attempts to destroy it had met with failure. Wars had been fought over its ownership both for its covetting and for fear of it, men had bled their lifesblood upon it, and it could honestly be said that no good thing had EVER come of the knowledge contained within. In the world of magic, the Grimoire was considered with much the same apprehension as a tactical nuclear device. Everyone wanted to have it, but no one in their right mind would ever use the blasted thing.

Contained inside were spells of destruction, not of flame or pestilence, not even the gift of immortality or the severing of a man's soul. The spells within were spells of Unmaking. Of Undoing.

It was called the Grimoire. It had remained locked. Raven had no key for it. She'd never even sought it. It was said that the lady Arella had given it to one she trusted above all others. One who not even Trigon would dare trifle with.

That same one had given Arella a gift, two gifts actually. The gift of visions, which... sadly, had ultimately led to her doom, and the last book.

It was a pleasant thing. Rich brown leather, finely crafted vellum pages. It was old, not as old as Azarath, but it had never graced an earthly library... it was the only one of it's kind.

Indeed, it was a book that should not have been at all.

It's title was quite simple, but staring at it, Raven could suppress a shiver of... excitement? Apprehension? Fear?

Maybe a little of all of these.

"Liber Curia Intemporaliter".

The Book of the Endless Court.

Raven carefully removed the Liber Curia Intemporaliter, taking great care not to touch the Grimoire. So much malevolence and bloodshed had been done in that book's name that she dare not risk receiving impressions from it.

To touch the thing might undo every good thing she'd ever done. That was, after all, what the Grimoire did.

She returned to her bed and sat crosslegged, staring at the book resting on her thighs. It had a pleasant weight to it, and smelled of dust and secrets. Taking a deep breath, she opened the book to the first page.

Her latin was somewhat rusty, and the book's author had apparently had a sense of the dramatic. It had the same sort of reverental air as an old, hand scripted and hand illustrated bible, the lifework of a solitary monk in a secluded monastery. Indeed, it was entirely possible that this is exactly what it was.

The first page that caught her eye was a full page illustration of a man in a hooded brown cloak with a bandage or blindfold drawn over his eyes, a large book in hand. She read the page next to it.

"Fatewalker, named Destiny, also Potmos. Eldest of Those Without End. His feet trod the path unerringly, leaving no prints behind. He casts no shadow, leaves no mark. He bears witness to the fates of mortals and gods alike. His blind eyes perceive the secrets of the world, of all things that were, or are, or shall yet be. His sigil is the Book."

Raven frowned. She turned the page.

A picture of a beautiful woman stared back at her, the artist had taken great pains to show compassion and gentleness in her gaze. The artist had depicted her in a plain black robe, almost a dress, the sort of thing that might have been popular several centuries ago. A shiver passed through her as she stared at the picture.

"Grandmother Death, named Death, also Teleute. Second of Those Without End. Her domain is the Sunless Lands, the destination to which all paths lead. She is the guide. All men, great or small, all gods, great or small, kneel to her but once, and once only. The End of All Things, the flutter of silent wings. Her sigil is the ankh."

Her hands froze. She sensed a deepening of shadows, the room seemed to draw closer. She looked up.

All was quiet. Still looking at the room carefully, narrowing her eyes, she turned the next page. She looked down.

Her eyes widened.

A dark cloaked figure wispy and lean was depicted. A tangled black mane of hair long and full, gloved hands holding in one hand a ruby, in the other, bag of something. The face was concealed behind a strange helmet, something that appeared to be, of all things, a gas mask... oddly out of place in such an ancient book. She stared at the image for a moment, unable to reconcile the strange emotion that leapt out at her. This figure... this... apparition... she had SEEN it before.

Her eyes flicked to the next page.

"Kinge of Dremes, The Prince of Stories, The Sandman, Lord of Sleep, The Shaper of Form, The Nightmare King, Monarch of the Sleeping Marches, The Oneiromancer, also called Morpheus, also Oneiros. The lord of sleep, the prince of stories, he to whom was given dominion over that which is not and was not, and shall never be. The Dreaming is his realm, and all who pass from the waking world enter and pay homage to him. Lord over all dreams... and nightmares. His sigil is the Helm."

"King... of Dreams?" She whispered to herself, her voice harsh with unknowable emotion. She slowly shook her head from side to side, as though clearing it. What were these Endless? Gods? Demons? Somehow she felt the words were paltry, too small to fit the concept. All who sleep, or die, or walk the earth seemed to be a part of these beings. Again her gaze slid to the pale, gaunt figure in the book. She shook off the mysterious sense of deja vu and turned the page.

There was a page MISSING. Torn out, it seemed. She frowned. The pages were not numbered, but she could clearly see the ragged edges of a page... no, two pages removed from the book. She looked into the box, but could find no evidence to suggest that the pages had fallen out there. In fact, she could find no trace of them at all. It seemed likely the pages had been removed long ago. If the book continued in a similar fashion, then one of the illustrations and descriptions of one of the Endless was missing.

She sighed. Hopefully it held no crucial information on the little girl, otherwise this whole gesture was nearly pointless. She looked at the next page.

The next page held two images, one of a beautiful woman... no... man? No... something. She couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman. It was strange, and yet perfectly natural, the why this man/woman held her gaze. She seemed to wink back at Raven.

She flicked her eyes away, flitting towards the other image, that of a grotesquely fat toad of a woman, naked, her jagged teeth composed in an unhappy, sullen frown. She was surrounded by rats, and Raven frowned at the image.

"The twins, two sides to the coin. Desire-"

Man/woman... him/her... Desire! Suddenly some of the little girl's odd speech made SENSE! This Desire must have been the one the girl had been talking about.

She felt a sense of trepidation suddenly as she realized the immensity of what lay before her. Somehow... Robin was involved with these beings... these Endless... and not periphereally. He'd spoken to the crazy little girl as though he respected her position, she realized...

Which meant... what? Robin had said something to the effect that the crazy little girl's brother had given him duties of his own to attend to... which meant that somehow... Robin served one of these Endless... or at the very least, owed one of them a favor.

No... no that wasn't it. The conversation he'd had with the little girl had implied that one of these Endless had given him a task of great importance... implied a relationship deeper than that...

She frowned in irritation. So many secrets... riddles hiding in riddles...

She continued to read.

"Desire, also known as Epithumia. It has eyes of golden wine, the color of desire... too see it is to love it, to crave and need it more than life itself. Cruelest of the Endless, it plays its games with the hearts of men and leaves wreckage in its wake. Fear Desire, for with it comes Despair. It's realm is the Threshold, a monument of Desire itself... its sigil is the Heart."

"Despair, also called Aponoia. She of the realm of rats and mist... and a thousand thousand mirrors. Her eyes gaze coldly from the backs of all mirrors... yet she takes no satisfaction or succor from her handiwork. She is the grey witch that pierces with iron hooks into the heart, the bleeding wound, the end of love, the death of hope. She is what is left behind when the flames of Desire unrequited have consumed the flesh. Her sigil is the Ring of Hooks."

Raven shuddered slightly. She knew this Endless... she knew it well. Her whole life had been a battle against her... she hurriedly turned the page, unwilling to stare at the flabby, corpulent form of Despair made manifest any longer. She looked at the next illustration.

Her eyes widened. Her heart beat faster in her chest, all but hammering her ribcage with excitement.

Before her was a small girl, her clothing different... older... a tattered shift, almost a nightie, one shoulder strap hanging carelessly off the shoulder leaving one prepubescent breast exposed. Still, it was unmistakably HER. The artist captured the blatant lack of regard... she seemed to have no care for her display of flesh. Her pinpoint eyes were mismatched just as Raven remembered, blue and green. She grinned lopsidely, her multicolored, rainbow hair twisted in all directions, a defiance of form or function.

Raven turned her eyes to the description.

"Delirium, also called Mania. Whisperer in the ears of fools and madmen... keeper of that which no man can know. Pitiful child, both ruler and victim of the chaos that is her realm, a place of no form or function, of all forms and functions. It is best to be at the foundations of all things, unless of course it is not. Riddle and conundrum, speaks she wisdom or nonsense? Perhaps not even Delirium knows. Beggar child at the table of the rationale."

She paused. An unfamiliar phrase appeared before her.

"Tempus Frangit"

Raven wrinkled her nose at the obtuse language. Was she reading that right? The phrase she was familiar with was Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus. Or, "Meanwhile the irreplaceable time flies". Shortened in recent years to simply Tempus Fugit, or "Time Flies." Tempus Frangit didn't make much sense.

Time breaks?

She shook off her whimsical expression and continued.

"Time breaks in the absence of rationality, for even the Endless in their time will end. Delirium alone knows the truth of this, and perhaps this truth is the core of her existence. Her sigil is that pattern which is not a pattern. Chaos incarnate."

That passage made her head hurt and she flipped through the rest of the pages looking for some clues, but it all seemed like so much nonsense. It was as though the author was writing things out that even he or she didn't understand, and hadn't bothered to contemplate them deeply. She closed the book and set it back in the trunk, closing the lid and going through the motions of locking it back up on autopilot.

So it was confirmed. The little girl was definately an Endless. Delirium, she had been called. Raven supposed it was stating the obvious, but she certainly fit her name. She didn't understand the concept of these Endless, but it was as though she were looking at an iceberg... she KNEW that much of it was beneath the surface... that it's true immensity was hidden beneath the dark water, but there was just so much of it on the surface that she couldn't conceive of how much of it must be hidden from view.

And somehow... Robin was in it up to his eyebrows.

She telekinetically lifted the steamer trunk back into it's customary place at the back of her closet, wiped clean the Wards on her room, and uncovered the mirror.

She still didn't know much about Robin... what she had learned had only served to make her nervous. She suddenly didn't feel quite so big a fish anymore.

What was his agenda? Did he HAVE a hidden agenda? Could she afford to take him at face value?

How could she? Even that was hidden from view.

Sooner or later, she realized, she'd have to confront him on it. The thought made her nervous and slightly angry at the same time...

-Watch it, Raven. Here there be demons.- She thought to herself. She explored why those particular emotions popped up.

Nervous, because confronting him with what she'd seen might destroy the fragile trust that had somehow sprung up between them. As dangerous as it was, she didn't want to lose that.

Angry, because he'd forced her into the position of having to doubt him... when what she really wanted was...

What she really wanted was...

She closed her eyes. Indecision, thy name be Raven.

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The Alarm snapped on just as she was preparing for bed. With a suppressed sigh, she threw on her leotard and cloak, before phasing through the floors necessary to quickly reach the bundles of mixed emotions and single, calm tranquility that were her companions. She ended up, quite by accident, (that was her story, and she was sticking to it) phasing into the room right behind Beast Boy, who involuntarily changed into several different green critters before he managed to bestill his hammering heart.

"GAH! Doors! Use 'em! Like a NORMAL person!" He shook his head, exasperated.

"Didn't mean to scare the sheep out of you." She countered, pulling her hood over her head.

Robin, all business now, fixed them with a determined look. "Titans, we've got trouble. Johnny Rancid is back in town. Apparently, he's holding up several citizens at a local Starbucks."

Raven raised an eyebrow. Cyborg looked grim, and Starfire looked confused. Beast Boy shook his head.

"The last thing that goon needs is caffeine rush." BB muttered.

"Let's move out, but be careful people... something about this doesn't feel right." Robin fixed each of them with a resolute gaze, as if to emphasize his point.

They all scattered to their various battle stations, but Raven lingered a moment, looking at their leader. He fixed her with a serious expression, then explained himself as if he heard her silent question.

"This isn't normal for Rancid. He's strictly a thrill seeker, violent, unpredictable, but motivated by danger and adrenaline, not petty larceny, and he doesn't take hostages... they'd tie him down. It just doesn't fit his profile."

Raven frowned. "Something must have happened."

The Boy Wonder's features twisted very slightly as he walked past her, heading to the R-Cycle. "Or someone."

She followed mutely.

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Aside from the large number of police cars drawn up in a barracade around the quiet franchise coffee shop, the scene had an air of almost unreal quiet. Rancid had struck at that strange hour of twilight when only the truely dedicated night owls would be caught dead wandering near a Starbucks. This, of course, only deepened Robin's suspicion that this crime was motivated by something other than Rancid's need for speed. If he was knocking over a restaurant for the purposes of scoring a quick buck, why a Starbucks, at night, with only a few tired patrons present?

The silence of the night was shattered when a whizzing metal object slammed into one of the police cars, crumpling its door inward and creating a blizzard of safety glass shards, scattering several of the officers using it as cover. The cop car whined mournfully.

"THAT'S RIGHT, LITTLE PIGGIES, STAY THE FUCK BACK!" A voice roared out. "THIS IS BETWEEN ME AND THOSE TEEN LOSERS."

Raven shot a quick glance at the object embedded in the police car. A heavy metal disk with the logo 'Jump City Sewers' emblazoned on it. She blinked.

A manhole cover?

Robin broke the stalemate with a loud, authoritative shout. "ALRIGHT RANCID, YOU WANTED US? YOU GOT US. DID PRISON SHAKE YOU UP THAT BAD, JOHNNY? IT'S NOT LIKE YOU TO TAKE HOSTAGES."

Rancid stepped to the window, a girl held by virtue of her slender neck held in one burly, tattooed arm. He scowled at Robin, a double barrelled shotgun pointed at the girl's head. Raven frowned... there was something odd about his facial expression. On the surface, it looked like he was doing his typical villain's song and dance routine, that customary contempt for authority, coupled with sneering dislike for young heroes. Underneath that, however, there was a curious release of tension, as though Rancid had expected them to come, and was relieved now that they were here.

"Let the girl go, Rancid. This is between you and us."

That typical bad boy arrogance curled the biker's lip. He grinned. "Just some life insurance, Bird Brain. I'd hate ta turn Molly here's head into a modern art sidewalk painting. I needed ta be sure you jokers would show up..." He narrowed his eyes.

"Well we're here. All you're doing by stretching this out is irritating me." The Boy Wonder's eyes narrowed dangerously.

Rancid cocked his head to look back into the Coffee Shop, then turned his face back to Robin, his eyes flicking back and forth between him and his team mates.

He was sweating.

"We're gonna take this nice and slow, Bird Boy... I got demands-"

Robin raised an eyebrow. Something about this picture wasn't right. REALLY wasn't right. He decided to go off the script.

"Name 'em."

The rest of the team gaped at Robin with shocked disbelief. He raised a gloved hand, still staring at Rancid.

Rancid looked just as shocked himself. He blinked, as though unsure of how to continue, then quirked his lip. "Er... uh..."

Robin crossed his arms. "You haven't planned this out very far, Johnny... What are you stalling for?"

Rancid fell back on the last bastion of the ignorant mind... profanity. "Hey fuck you, I uh... some beer... and uh... a million dollars..."

Robin just stared at him. Rancid seemed to twitch, then tossed the girl away in disgust, shotgun levelled at the Boy Wonder. "Screw this bullshit... I don't care what that reject from A Nightmare Before Christmas says... I'm doin' this my way... LET THE MAYHEM BEGIN!"

He fired two quick shots from the street howitzer at Robin, who nimbly dodged to the side, tossing a Birdarang as he moved. The sharp bit of metal lodged itself in the barrel of the shotgun, which Rancid immediately ditched, running back into the Starbucks.

Several of the police officers opened fire before their superiors could shout at them to cease fire, civilian casualties a definate possibilty in any shootout. This only added to the chaos as every Titan started to move at once.

Starfire carefully lobbed a couple of starbolts his way, but missed widely since she was trying too hard not to cause any collateral damage that might hurt the civilians inside. Likewise Cyborg was running into similar difficulty, advancing resolutely and choosing his sonic cannon blasts carefully, at a lower setting than normal. The glancing hits he did score succeeded only in pissing their intended target off. With a growl of repressed rage he disappeared into the Gentlemen's bathroom.

Beast Boy changed into a Kangaroo and hopped quickly into the Starbucks, dodging around tables in a stunning display of dexterity, followed immediately by Starfire and Cyborg. Raven and Robin brought up the rear.

Cyborg stopped suddenly, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Wait... wait a minute.. stop guys... STOP-"

Starfire looked at him in confusion, blinking suddenly. "What is it, friend Cyborg!"

Beast Boy stopped as well. "Huh? Cy... big, bad, and ugly on the loose... civilians at risk, what's the hold up?"

Cyborg dove to the ground and proceeded to tear at something.

"Rob, head back to the T-Car and bring up the little red box I've got under the driver's seat... right now!"

To his credit, Robin departed without raising an eyebrow.

Raven blinked. "What about Rancid?"

Cyborg shook his head. "Star... BB, you get em... find the hostages... quick. We have to hurry... he's rigged this place to blow. I'm gonna see if I can disarm it, but this looks..." he droned off, his face disbelieving.

BB paled to a lime shade and Starfire blinked, then the two of them shot off into the Gentlemen's bathroom in hot pursuit.

"ROB! Where the HELL is that tool kit!"

"Right here." Robin rushed just past Raven slid it across the well waxed floor in Cyborgs direction. It stopped inches from the kneeling half-metal teen.

Robin frowned. "What does it look like?"

Cyborg got to work with a screwdriver, perspiration starting to bead on his human skin. "Good... and by that I mean really bad. If you'd have asked me a week ago if Johnny could have pulled off a wire job like this, I'd have laughed at you."

Robin shook his head. "I don't think that's it at all... I think-"

Anything he might have said ended as Starfire and then a panicked Beast Boy shot out of the bathroom at breakneck speeds only a few scant seconds after entering.

"GANG WAY! HE'S GOT-"

"BOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRN TO BE BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!" The biker shouted as he crashed THROUGH the flimsy bathroom door, along with part of the plaster wall. Dust and debris rained everywhere as Rancid shot into the room on his custom hawg, chairs and tables kicking every which way. He gunned it heavily and reared up in a wheelie, then shot in a beeline directly at Robin. Robin dived out of the shop, shielding his face and head as Johnny shot over him, crashing through the glass store front and sending a cloud of flechette like razor shards flying every which way.

Which stopped immediately, bouncing off of a sphere of black energy.

Rancid shot down the street, weaving around the barracade skillfully. One unfortunate police officer stood his ground, taking aim. Rancid hit him full on and the sheer velocity folded the officer around the handlebars before tossing him pinwheeling to the side, his limbs tangling bonelessly. Robin picked himself up and scowled, tossing a look of gratitude back at Raven.

BB stopped in front of Robin. "WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO! HE'S GOT THOSE PEOPLE CHAINED UP IN THE BATHROOM... THERE'S LIKE SIX OF EM IN THERE!"

Robin stopped for a moment, turning back to the team.

"Cy... work on that bomb. BB... Starfire, get those hostages OUT... I mean right now... Raven..."

He ran for the R- Cycle, picking up and slapping his helmet into place in one smooth motion. Orienting on her. "Keep up... I have a feeling we're going to need some magical backup if we're going to avoid any more casualties."

She nodded resolutely, taking to the sky as Robin roared down the street after Rancid in hot pursuit.

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A laughing, braying maniac shot down the street weaving around the last bit of sleep deprived traffic present on the nearly deserted Jump City streets. Immediately behind him, buzzing like the mother of all pissed off hornets, streaked the R-Cycle, Robin's cloak flapping like a flag in the shrieking slipstream. Raven concentrated heavily on keeping up, her own cloak drawn close against the cool evening air.

Once again, Raven considered the impracticality in her choice of a thin leotard and voluminous cloak for a costume.

Every once in a while during the pursuit Raven was forced to use her telekinesis to protect those hapless drivers who lost control of their vehicles veering away from Rancid, who gaffawed at the increasingly mounting property damage. Raven gritted her teeth from the strain of maintaining so much control over her dark powers at once.

"Robin, whatever you're going to do... you better do it quick." She muttered into her communicator.

Robin didn't answer her, too concentrated on keeping on the fleeing villain's tail.

Rancid looked back for a second and did a double take. The grim, faceless helmet of the Boy Wonder implacably swerved around the impromptu obstacles Rancid left in the wake of his passage, ever present, like the two of them were tethered by an invisible length of chain. Robin reached onto his belt and pulled loose a freeze bomb, tossing it at Rancid, who merely dodged to the side. The freeze bomb shot past him and off down the street.

"HA! You SUCK!" He chortled. He turned back and just as quickly caught up to the slippery patch of ice the freeze bomb had left on the street just as he was attempting to make a tight turn. He skidded sideways across the ice, booted feet splayed out to provide traction that was eluding him.

He cursed under his breath, then the tires caught suddenly and he shot down the street with a whoop of fierce joy.

"You can't keep up, kid! Give it up!"

The boy wonder turned his R-Cycle viciously to the side to avoid the ice slick, going up on the sidewalk and dodging around a stop sign, then a fire hydrant, then a mailbox in rapid succession. He shot back onto the street a few yards behind Rancid.

Raven shook her head. Any of those impacts could have been fatal. This was getting out of control. She let out a deep breath.

"Azarath, Metrion, Xinthos..." She intoned. She reached out with her mind onto the speeding hawg making it's getaway.

She shuddered from the strain of it, straining to wrap the bike in her mental embrace. She wasn't able to stop it completely, it was going too damn fast, but maybe she could slow it down a bit...

Rancid growled at the sudden decrease in speed and the black tendrils of energy that gripped his hawg's tires. He reached behind him to his belt and pulled out his blaster, pointing it at Raven's hovering form.

"Eat this, Witch!" He hammered several shots at her.

She lost her concentration on the Hawg and was forced to throw up a mental shield, the blasts whining harmlessly off of the implacable black barrier. Her hovering faltered slightly.

Robin tossed another birdarang at the heavy metal biker, striking a glancing hit on his thick leather gloves and forcing him to drop his blaster, which flipped end over end, coming apart as it flew. Robin lost several feet dodging around the debris.

Rancid leaned into the next turn, coming up on a stop sign. He gritted his teeth, rage in every inch of his being, then grabbed the sign and ripped it clean off the street. He spun his hawg in a squeal of tires, leaving a smoking black streak of burnt rubber on the street from his skidding halt. Robin arched wide around him leaning away from him desperately as he realized what the maniac was going to do.

Johnny grinned widely, his face full of adrenaline and road rage. "NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA! BAT... MAN!"

He swung his impromptu club around in a vicious arc, striking a glancing blow to Robin has he flashed by, his R-Cycle wobbling, just on the verge of being out of control. He turned his Cycle visciously, sliding sideways, one foot on the ground raising sparks as he desperately tried to stop his out of control slide.

Raven's eyes widened. Time seemed to stop as she saw the side of Robin's helmet... how crumpled it was. His visor was spiderwebbed, there was no way he could see through it.

The R-Cycle came to a halt, smoke rising from the Boy Wonder's metalshod boots. His head slumped forward slightly.

Rancid grinned at him, gunning his hawg nastily. His grin grew more malicious with each gunning of the engine.

Robin reached up with shaky hands, pulling off his ruined helmet. Blood pattered down thickly, dripping on the Cycle, then to the street beneath.

Rancid laughed. "Awwww... does the baby have a boo boo?"

Robin dropped the ruined helmet to the street, his face a cold mask. His nose bled freely, and judging from the way he gritted his teeth, it was likely that his nose was broken.

He also had a vicious bruise across the left side of his face.

His MASK was STILL ON.

Raven stopped, spellbound by the intensity of that moment, frozen by indecision. Part of her wanted to stop this, wanted to reach out and protect... to...

Her emotions caught her off guard and she stifled them violently, a headache blooming from the reaction.

In that moment, Robin drew out his staff and flicked it into full extension.

Rancid's eyes widened, then he threw back his head and laughed. "AWESOME! BRING IT ON, BIRD BRAIN! I'LL SMACK YOUR DOME INTO NEXT WEEK!"

Robin raised his balancing leg and gunned the R-Cycle, tires squealing as he accelerated-

Raven's mouth opened up to shout out something that was lost in the roaring in her ears-

Rancid popped a wheelie, swinging his bent Stop Sign in a wide arc around his head like a barbarian before the front tire slammed back down and he shot forward like a horse out of the starting gates.

Raven reached out for Robin with one desperate hand, her mind flying forward but it was too late... too late...

Robin brought the staff close to his body, butting one end of it into his shoulder and standing slightly, leaning forward like a Knight about to joust.

Rancid came forward, his own weapon swing across in a slicing arm aimed right at Robin's unprotected head.

Something in Robin's face must of thrown Rancid off of his game, or perhaps the way the two bikes came at one another threw off his nerve. In any case, the sign missed it's intended target by barest inches, saving off a couple of stray hairs from Robin's exposed hair.

Robin's staff slammed hard into Rancid's gut, lifting him bodily off of the hawg and holding him suspended for several seconds.

Physics caught up to the Boy Wonder.

A cycle is not a horse. Even a high performance, state of the art motorcycle like Robin's requires constant direction from it's rider to maintain a steady course. Robin's staff was NOT a lance, no matter how it was used. It is a testiment to his skill at riding that he didn't lose complete control over his Cycle. Instead, it veered widely to the left, forcing Robin to perform his balancing act again. The impact to his shoulder was transmitted through his state of the art armored costume, and his dislocated arm dropped numbly to his side, his staff lost in the collision.

Somehow, he managed to stop his crash course, coming to a halt and panting desperately for air.

The effect on Rancid, however, was considerably less graceful.

He buckled around the staff like a belt, spraying vomit and no small amount of blood from his mouth and nose and he went skidding down the street. His heavy leather clothing were all that saved him from a lethal case of road rash.

His unhelmeted head bounced every which way as he tumbled, but Rancid's inhuman endurance protected him from fatal injury, if not from a serious concussion.

The uncontrolled Hawg continued on for a few seconds before collapsing on its side like a dying horse. It slide several feet, spraying sparks down either side of the street before slamming into a parked minibus and entangling itself hopelessly with the wreck.

Amazingly, it did not catch fire or explode.

Robin kicked down his stand and slipped off of the Cycle, stumbling for a second before his balance caught up with him and he was able to walk a straight line. His steps built up speed.

Raven's heart started again.

Rancid was still curled in a ball around his gut, groaning and dry heaving uselessly. He started to uncurl and pick himself up, braced against the ground by one gloved hand, his other clutching his gut, on his hands and knees.

Robin reached him and never stopped, his boot flashing out and catching Rancid in the cheek, flipping him over onto his back in an ungainly spin. He spit out blood.

"FuCK!"

Robin's face was blank. His boot flashed out again and connected with Rancid's side, flipping him over onto his stomach. Robin slammed one boot down hard on his back and leaned down, his useless arm dangling uselessly at his side.

"You scumbag. What the HELL was this whole useless.. pointless crap about!" He hissed menacingly.

Raven stopped just a few feet from him, numb with shock. It was like she wasn't there at all, and Robin looked unreal, beaten up, blooded, but menacing... unnatural.

Dangerous.

In that moment, she could swear she didn't know the Boy Wonder at all.

Rancid gasped and shuddered, spitting out more blood and then a tooth. "Fuck... fuckin'... you... broke my fuckin' jaw..."

Robin sneered and leaned in close. "I haven't even started breaking you yet, Johnny... unless you want me to take you to places you've never in your worst nightmares imagined existed, I suggest you start entertaining me with the truth."

Rancid paled, shaking like a leaf under the Boy Wonder's grinding heel. "I can't... he'll... he'll fuckin' kill me if I-"

Robin cocked his head like a wolf. "What makes you think I won't?"

Raven snapped out of her shock with a start. "Robin! That's enough!"

Robin's head snapped up. His masked and hidden eyes met hers.

For a moment they were frozen like that... he seemed to be staring through her, as though he didn't recognize her.

His mouth dropped open falteringly for a moment, then he winced and reached up, grabbing his dangling arm.

He gripped the arm at the elbow then jerked visciously downward on it. With a sickening pop and a lurch the joint popped back into place.

He stifled a scream, it came out merely as a hiss.

She watched him in mute shock. "Robin... what-"

He let out a deep sigh and rotated the injured arm in a wide arc, looking for all the world like a tired boy in a cold hard world.

She fixed him with an implacable glare. "Robin... don't do this. This isn't you."

He winced as though struck.

Yet through it all, through every moment of it, she felt NOTHING from him...

He was like a void.

He shook his head slowly as though clearing it. Then he glanced down at the panicked Johnny Rancid.

"You're right, Raven. I'm sorry... I just-"

An inexplicable urge struck her before she could compose herself and she found herself acting without reason. Something about his pain focused her attention on the blood oozing down his face. She grabbed his nose hard, causing him to hiss again and jerk back. A moment's concentration and the damage was fixed.

He snapped his hand up and caught her wrist as she started to pull away. The unexpected human contact was a mistake.

A big mistake.

Raven took pains to avoid touching anyone without mentally preparing herself first. The reason was simple, physical touch was a conduit, not only for her powers but for the emotions... the thoughts... the lives of those around her. She was a powerful Empath, one of the most powerful, but her Empathy was largely untrained, under utilized... suppressed for the danger that it was. She avoided human contact for this reason.

She'd never unexpectedly touched the Boy Wonder before either of them was prepared before.

She found herself staring into the wide eyes of his mask, staring... and then drowning... drowning... slipping deeper... deeper inside...

For a moment she thought she heard a cry of dismay... and then...

A memory rushed at her headlong... she fell-

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It was a duality of memory... one one level she/he swung high above the air, defying death as he/she slid from one trapese to the next, the crowds roaring in exultation beneath her/him. Her/his parents watched with glowing pride as Richard Grayson flew gracefully through the air, a Robin in all but form.

The pain... the shock of losing them. The vow for revenge... to be a nightmare to all criminals...

And yet there was something false... something dreamlike and distant about these memories. Inexorably she felt herself being drawn deeper, through the webs of fantasy, or perhaps merely deeper into the truth of Robin...

Then with a snap she found herself in the past.

The neck under her/his hands cracked with a startling, whipcrack of sound. The lithe, hateful visage of the man in front of her/him, face twisted and purple with pain and rage, slid out of her/his impossibly strong hands and dropped bonelessly to the ground. She/he stared down, struck by the oddity of his/her surroundings... she... no he... no... they... were not seeing exactly... rather, they were perceiving. The distinction was strange, subtle... but his/her perception was better than sight... things appeared clearer... more vivid... especially the maliciousness and rancor vibrating in the pitiful, beautiful, but ruined body lying at his/her feet. The hatred and spite rose off of the thing like waves of heat.

He/she stared down with satisfaction and more than a little smug superiority at the being in front of them. The pitiful sack of bones whimpered, it's voice raising rusty out of a broken throat.

"Kill... meeeee..."

His/Her lips curled back into a smile. He/she reached up and took off their black sunglasses, letting the reality of themselves appear to the widening gaze of the being on the floor.

"I don't think so, Loki. I wouldn't want to incur the Death Curse of a god, not even a pathetic, weakling of a god like yourself. Still, I rather doubt you'll tell me where you hid the boy on your own."

He/she bent down, a silvery knife in his/her hand flicking out gracefully from his/her belt. He/she leaned close to Loki and went to grisly work, the tip of the knife penetrating the skin just beneath the eyelid...

Loki howled mournfully, a scream of agony.

Someone spoke behind her/him, hesitant, fearful in their intonation.

"What... What are you doing?"

The view shifted as he/she turned her head, staring at a large bird, a Raven, of all things. His/her mouth tightened in a grin.

"Tell me, Matthew..."

He/she raised a pair of bloody orbs in their hands, raising them to the Raven's startled gaze.

"Have you ever wondered what the world looks like..."

She/he raised them higher, until the plucked eyeballs were just before her own sockets. She/he grinned... Three grins... at once.

Such secrets... most important of all, the place where that thrice bedamned Loki had hidden the boy Daniel, and started this whole tragic mess.

"Through the eyes of a god?"

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The contact broke suddenly as Robin jerked his hand back, stumbling back against Rancid's prone and unconscious form and collapsing on his rump on top of the villain. He stared at her, his mouth slack.

"No..."

"No..." She cried, falling backwards as well, bruisingly to the hard pavement. She felt her face frantically, then hugged her arms to herself, her eyes wide.

They both lie there, trembling for several minutes. Gradually, they both regained their fragile composure.

They looked up at the same time.

"I'm-" He started.

"Sorry-" She continued.

"I didn't-" he said.

"Mean for you-" She rasped.

"To see that." He finished.

Rancid groaned underneath them, shifting uneasily.

They watched each other for a moment, the wreckage of two lives flittering between them. He stood first.

She watched him warily.

He reached down a gloved hand, his face serious.

She looked at it for a moment, her face a mirror of confusion. What she'd seen had made no sense... no sense at all... Ravens... gods... eyes... oh the eyes...

It worked both ways, she knew. He'd seen what HER life had been like. He also had an intimate connection to a moment in her existence... lived it through her eyes.

Yet he reached out a hand. He still trusted her.

She looked at him, a moment of indecision. Despite the terrible things she'd seen... the confusion of it... did she still trust him?

She reached up and took his hand, steeling herself against the contact this time.

He drew her to her feet.

The flashing of red and blue lights caught their attention... the mournful whine of approaching police cars, as well as the rumble of the T-car.

"Later." He whispered, then released her hand.

She nodded mutely.

They had alot to talk about.

Again.

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A/N: Do you start to get it now, Sandman fans? HEHEHEHE.