5 August 2010
Salt Flats, Colorado
Throughly reprimanded for her actions on the last mission, Raven was relieved when Batman allowed her to continue working with the Team (after much persuasion on Kent's part), even if Kid Flash still stepped warily around her. Sparing a glance towards the redhead in question, Raven spied his reflection in the bioship's window looking strangely pensive. For a brief moment, their gazes connected and she felt herself hoping he would smile back like he usually did, but he simply swung his gaze away with a slight downturn of his lips.
Slumping back against her chair on the other side of the ship, Raven sulked inside her cloak as they hovered over their destination (a sparse parking lot on the outskirts of some nondescript park in the Salt Flats). As they had quickly come to learn, the speedster could hold a grudge like nobody's business and usually over something stupid or inconsequential. From the unsatisfactory way a beloved tv series had ended to a certain coffee shop which had yet to name a product after himself (alongside Flash).
His grudges were almost legendary for someone who moved so fast in his day-to-day, Robin liked to say that he was like a turbo snail—fast for everything he loved and slow for those that he hated. Which didn't boost her confidence. With Kid Flash's ire directed solely at Raven for something, she'd argue, she didn't have total control over and was completely justified, in her opinion (the revenge, not the strangling). She could only hope that the ginger would soon let the grudge go.
It was easy enough to find their villain-of-the-day, The Psycho-Pirate, as he had accosted them almost as soon as the Team had crossed the green threshold with a fair amount of dramatic flair, (they still couldn't seem to grasp the whole undercover-covert-team thing). "…I think it appropriate, don't you?" Psycho-Pirate turned to greet them, a glowing orange canister held aloft and shiny mask glinting eerily in the sunlight. "The Psycho-Pirate plundering plutonium—!"
"Maybe we should change his name to 'Alliteration-Doofus' instead of Psycho-Pirate!" Kid Flash sassed as the hordes of hazmat suit-clad men ran at them with a glazed look in their eye.
"This make no sense!" Robin puzzled as they ran to greet the man, "Why would he want plutonium?"
"I dunno? To build a bomb?"
"Impractical for Psycho-Pirate. Not his MO"
"MO?" Superboy confusedly turned to the boy wonder. "What is an MO?"
"MO stands for Modus Operandi" Aqualad explained, "Robin means it is not what Psycho-Pirate would usually do"
"Like his habits?" Raven asked, just as confused as the kryptonian at the strange new word.
"Close enough" Robin nodded.
"—I will take on one and all comers who wish to take away my prize! Come face me! Come and face the power of the Medusa Mask!"
"Yeah!" Kid Flash chirped as they all slipped between the blue men like water over rocks. "He's a real tough guy when he's got all these people between us and him!"
Fuelled by their overwhelming emotions, the blue men quickly fell upon the sidekicks with the utmost enthusiasm and far more strength than they ought to have had. Rage lay plastered across the face of one, his brows furrowed together and teeth bared in a heart-thudding snarl. There lay fear in the eyes of another, glazed and wide as white-knuckled fists swung about wildly and without restraint. Absolute manic glee split the face of bespectacled man, his expression eerily reminiscent of a certain green-haired Gotham clown and waterfall tears tracked down the freckled cheeks of another, making it impossible for him to see but that did not heed his fighting skills at all.
"These people truly hate us!" Aqualad grunted as he grappled with a particularly gleeful grunt.
"An effect of Psycho-Pirate's Medusa Mask!" Robin replied as he clipped another in the chin, sending them stumbling away as he searched for another grunt to tackle. "He's able to control emotions with it! He's making all of these people hate us, but it's not their fault, so try not to harm them!"
Oh. Raven swallowed thickly as she danced around a punch. Raven knew better than anyone what an overwhelming amount of emotions could do to a person, what kind of effect—what kind of power—could result from something as simple as letting go. Hell, look at what had happened on the most recent mission! Her emotions had run wild and destroyed everything & anything in her path. Child or not, she knew that keeping a handle on her emotions would benefit everyone (and, no, she did not send a sorrowful glance towards Kid Flash!).
"If this plutonium is so dangerous, it must be out first priority" Aqualad huffed as he shoved a water shield between himself and his persistent opponent, the other hand moving to trip the grunt growling to his left. "Kid Flash?"
"On it, O fearless leader!" Kid Flash sang, tossing aside the unnamed man he'd been tangling with.
"Be careful!" Robin called over his shoulder, "Don't break the container or we'll all be exposed to high levels of radiation!"
"I know!"
And with that Kid Flash raced off, zipping through the throngs of blue-clad men with ease until he reached the aforementioned villain standing before them. The mask in question glittered tauntingly in the midday sun, its golden plating stood out like a sore thumb against the rest of his outfit from where it lay glued to his face. Just as Kid Flash approached on thundering footsteps, the crackle of lightning left behind in his wake alerted the pirate to his presence and he turned to greet the sidekick with the sort of slyness oft reserved for highborns.
"Well, aren't you a speedy fellow?" Psycho-Pirate leered, "Fast, yes, but faster than the speed of thought? I think not!"
"Wha—?" Kid Flash blinked as he neared. He was close enough that he could see his own reflection in the Psycho-Pirate's golden mask. He was so close! But as his breath fogged the cheek of his opponent, a gloved hand suddenly snapped up to grip him around the throat, cutting off his oxygen supply as he was lifted skyward. Silently, the speedster cursed his luck for being choked out two missions in a row, as his legs kicked uselessly in the air and he clawed at the hand at his jugular.
"KID!" Robin cried from somewhere behind him,
"You strike me as the anxious sort" Psycho-Pirate tilted his head this way & that as if inspecting him, "I wonder…what makes you anxious?"
"Ugh…" Kid Flash gurgled as his brain suddenly turned to mush and he was dropped to his knees, eyes glazed over in fear.
Despite being free from Psycho-Pirate's grip, Kid Flash still found himself struggling to breathe. In his mind's eye he could see a series of images flash by too quick to catch. The back of his mentor as he sped ahead, that familiar lightning blinding his sight as he fought just to keep up with the fastest man alive and the disappointing stare he received whenever he lagged behind, cut him deep. I'm Kid Flash, but I'm not good enough to be Flash's sidekick…! Kid Flash mourned, I'll never be as fast as him, so why do I even bother to try?
The OTHER sidekicks get welcomed by their mentors with open arms! A great depression fell over the redheaded speedster as he pictured the whole League and their respective partners/sidekicks. Batman & Robin, Martian Manhunter & Ms Martian, Aquaman & Aqualad, Doctor Fate & Raven…on and on they went, all stood proudly next to each other with secretive smiles and reassuring gestures that pricked at his heart. And then there was Flash, who stood tall and foreboding like his golden statue, with a uncharacteristic frown upon his features as he stared Kid Flash down. And Flash never even wanted me as a partner in the first place!
And—and why am I always eating? I always feel empty but I just can't ever get enough! Kid Flash whimpered as he watched his own sausage fingers move about of their own accord to grab anything & everything within reach. Pizza, burgers, donuts, sandwiches, pies; piles upon piles disappeared into a neverending stomach that always growled for more. Hidden beyond the pyramids of crinkly food wrappers and stacks of greasy TV dinners, lay his parents as they despaired over the amount of food he consumed on the regular. Between the bites shovelled into his mouth he noticed how their food portions were so much smaller than his own, how they picked at his leftovers like street urchins, how they worried that he would (quite possibly) eat them out of house and home. Always eating, eating, eating…always empty, empty, empty…Round & round it goes…where does it stop? Nobody knows…!
"Oooh! That was so easy!" Psycho-Pirate chirped (or did he? It was hard to tell through overwhelming fear muffling everything else) as he basked in the suffocating emotions floating in the air. "Let's see what we can do for the others!"
Robin grew rigid as the fear, unabashed and overwhelming, washed over him. His knees locked and a punch—that he normally would have been able to dodge—had him sprawling across the grass with limbs all akimbo. High above him, the cloudless blue sky blurred and faded away into the red & white striped canvas of the Haley's Circus Big Top. Fear. He swallowed audibly, not wanting to look down at the hordes of people below or the mangled bodies he was sure to find. That's not supposed to be a word in my vocabulary!
The Flying Graysons were death-defying acrobats! He could see his family now—adorned in bedazzled suits of scarlet—standing tall and proud high above the roaring crowds. Nothing stood between them and the dizzying ground below. But they didn't care; perched atop the uppermost rafters of the Big Top like birds on a wire, they were completely unafraid of their deaths. They laugh in Death's face! Swinging to unreachable heights, so high that if they wanted to, they could reach out and grab onto the stars. They feared nothing!s
What if Batman doesn't need me? Robin swallowed thickly as his mother's gleeful grin was replaced by the unmoving glower of his guardian. Those narrowed eyes and disapproving frown were etched onto his face, still visible through the cowl and mirrored by Alfred who stood at his shoulder with a silver tray in hand. Gotham's villains sneered at the boy wonder, they wrote him off as nothing more than child—a baby— hiding behind the Bat's cloak, but still beat him senseless nonetheless and that terrified him. Joker's grin, Penguin's cane, Riddler's jokes and Harley's brain. Batman isn't afraid of anything! How can I ever hope to measure up to that?
Am I burden to the Team? Am I too young? He stood drowning in his costume: the boots climbed up his knees, the clasp of his cloak clawed at his throat and his domino mask barely clung to his brows. Robin's cloak was far too big, his punches far too weak and he was forever stuck in Batman's shadow. Everything was far too big, he was far too weak and no matter what he did, nothing seemed to change.
Drowning beneath mountains of pacifiers and brightly coloured rattles that clattered with every inch of movement, Robin could only stare up at his teammates who towered over him like giants. They cooed & melted, gooing & gaahing over every little nondescript noise he made, every fumbled movement and failed attempt at communication. Whenever he opened his mouth, only strangled gurgles fell from his lips and the nappy tucked tight around his legs crinkled like old newspapers. It made him want to cry. Why was I chosen to be Robin?
Aqualad's knees wobbled beneath him with every step that he took and his suddenly too heavy heart jackhammered in his tight chest as it tried to escape; he felt so strange up above the waves. Gone were the blue-clad land dwellers with their uneasy expressions printed across blank faces, instead replaced by the coastal sands of an ever-stretching beach. Golden grains clung to every available surface, peppering him like freckles but feeling like needles that pierced wherever they lay. I've lived my entire life beneath the ocean waves, so stepping out onto land for the first time was strange. It's so much heavier out here…impossibly so.
Walking through the atmosphere, breathing in the bitter taste of OXYGEN instead of the sweet taste of hydrogen…with each breath I drown a little more. Always drowning, drowning, drowning.
Lethargic limbs dragged himself around the streets, movements so slow that the clouds in the sky high above zipped on by. The pressure above the sea was suffocating, forever pushing down on the atlantean, flattening him against the dusty, dry earth. Gasping breaths hissed out from between clenched teeth and his chest was tight with tension. Why won't someone help me? It's so difficult to breathe up here! I need to breathe! Breathe—!
And when the others cook popcorn drowned in butter, the aroma wafts through the Cave and clogs my senses! This must be what it is like for humans when they are underwater…Suddenly he was back in the cave, thick clouds of buttered popcorn and burnt toast wafted throughout the cavernous room. The sickeningly sweet taste of soda brushed against the back of his tongue and the clawing sounds of the ever-flickering television that grated against his ears, so deafeningly loud, that it made his head twinge in pain whenever he passed by. I need to take control of my body and my actions! I need to show Aquaman, my King, that I am capable of being his apprentice, of being Aqualad! I need to him that I am deserving of this honour bestowed upon me!
Born—grown—in a containment pod, I am no more a person than I am a lab rat! Glass covered Superboy's face, shining bright beneath the neon lights that illuminated the small cavern he called home. Upon his shoulder & crowd sat a triad of G-gnomes who fed him various stories about the outside world in preparation for the day that he would go topside, and succeed Superman. There was a certain comfort about living inside a small tube built just for him—a comfort he never wanted to leave and that frightened him. Wasn't he supposed to be somewhere else? Wasn't there a different cave he now called his home? Fed tailored information directly through Cadmus' G-gnomes and into my brain. Information I later found out to be false or twisted…How far does their programming go? Just what kind of things did they feed me?
I've only met the man a few times, but Superman is always brimming with confidence and I can't even look the man in the eye! A flash of blue & red, a snap of a cape, the bust of a chiselled bosom, a family crest emblazoned in gold. From the tips of his cape to the curl of his cowlick, the kryptonian gleamed with confidence almost as if it poured out of every pore.
I'm the SuperBOY, always & forever compared to the SuperMAN. A copy, a fake, a CLONE. Cutlass eyes stared down at him, piercing his soul with their disapproving glare. Brows furrowed and lips turned downward, Superboy felt like shrinking in on himself as he bore the full weight of his predecessor's ire. Tears crept from Superboy's eyes as he watched the flashes of Superman's legacy flickered before his mind's eye. News clippings with headlines that glorified his adventures, merchandise emblazoned with the man's crest (including his own t-shirt) and even holidays dedicated to the Man of Steel. And then there was Superboy, drowning—suffocating—in Superman's ever-increasing shadow. Am I EVER going to be as good as him? Better than him? Will I ever be able to live up to his legacy?
Life on Earth is nothing like Mars; on television, you can't hear what the characters are thinking. M'gann despaired, her eyes welling with tears as her body grew rigid and the thoughts of those around her became drowned out by her own thoughts. A vintage box television flickered to life in front of her, the upbeat theme song of her favourite daytime soap opera ["Hello~Megan~!"] trickling out and making her heart skip a beat. The characters with whom she had come to love were replaced with the friends she had made here, on Earth. Where Martian Manhunter was her guardian, Superboy played the role of boyfriend, Robin & Raven were the rowdy neighbourhood kids, with Kid Flash & Aqualad being her high school friends. Everyone's thoughts are forever swirling about in my mind. I know I'm not supposed to, but I can't help it! I'm trying, but it's not like I can stop them from coming!
It's how we communicate on Mars, but here it is a violation of things that are 'personal' To humans, it is the ultimate transgression, to breach this privacy. But Earth is not Mars. Those friends whom she loved so much spared her only expressions of disgust. Puckered lips downturned, brows furrowed and noses scrunched up like they'd smelt something foul. Even Raven—a fellow psychic—glared at her with those four scary red eyes. M'gann's heart felt heavy even as she tried to brush off their distaste. She built wall after wall between them, pushing them away so as to please them and still keep her own secrets safe. It's not like I'm ACTIVELY trying to pry into their minds! They're just SO loud! I can understand though, I too, have things that are personal. Things that I don't necessarily want everyone to know.
I am the ULTIMATE outsider, as if everyone couldn't tell by my name: Ms MARTIAN! Green skin peppered with freckles and matched with blazing red hair. It was so easy to hide amongst the humans as 'Megan the human' instead of 'M'gann the martian'; where her human half's caucasian flesh slipped easily against every other colour, her martian's green skin clashed harshly against everything it touched. Together, the two swirled about, mixing together until both Megan and M'gann become a speckled creature of unknown origin. I'M A MARTIAN! NOT A HUMAN! Things would be so much easier if I was human…
"I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid…" Raven murmured endlessly as her voice turned towards a high & pitiful keen. She tried to best to deny the fear which threatened swallow her whole, but as the emotions from the others surrounded her, the young witch soon found herself drowning inside her own mind. I failed you…Azar, Mother, Azarath…!
I never meant for this to happen! I swear! I had only wanted to know who had sired me! I had only wanted to know who my father was! Is that so wrong? Glassy eyes turned to face the downfall of Azarath. To the people who had both welcomed & hated her, to the once proud temples now no more than rubble & debris and to the teachers her taught her so much. Raven could only watch as the only family she had ever known was burnt alive, as the once beautifully pristine city burnt black under the ire of her father's arrival. How was I supposed to know what sort of monster he would be?
I'm not like him! I'm not! I'm not a monster! I'm my own person! Raven's magic fluctuated about her, pulsating in waves of intense emotion as her thoughts quickly turned to the adulterated fear blooming in the eyes of her teammates. Twin water bearers and batarangs were fisted behind white knuckles and aimed straight at her. Her skin burnt crimson, her tail a forked blade and eyes split into four. Fear sang in her heart for she knew that there was no way to call off the witch hunt now that they knew her as a Lady of Chaos. Please! Don't do this to me! Not again! Not again!
The gem was born of evil's fire, the gem shall be his portal He comes to claim, he comes to sire the end of all things mortal. The chapel grew heavenwards with the kind of tenacity oft reserved for Vatican cathedrals. Arches that curved skywards, stained glass windows that painted the sky in pretty colours and an altar that held the cradle of a sleeping babe. Bejewelled cloaks of navy lined the pews as they sung eery hymns unto the heavens (or, in this case, unto the pits of hell). All because of that prophecy—that damned prophecy!—will it forever be hanging over my head? Will I EVER be free of this godforsaken prophecy?
