"Robin's doing it again," Raven drones.

"Hmm?" Starfire stands cutely aside with her hands behind her back. Two emerald eyes blink over as she utters: "He is travailing upon doing what again?"

Raven casts a bored glance across the lengths of the rubble-strewn City street. "Getting into gung-ho mode. Calling us all in to foil a simple museum robbery. Especially at night when I could be meditating."

"Dearest Raven, are we not enlisted in the protection of this City and its secure interests?"

"I know what we're supposed to do and not supposed to do, Star," the dark girl drones. Her violet eyes limply follow cops, paramedics, and cleanup crew. "But ever since the Brotherhood was defeated, he's been making us out to be an army. Like we have to be responsible for every grain of dust on the sidewalks and take the cockroaches in for questioning… …"

"He is merely being… …," Starfire tongues the inside of her cheek. "… …himself."

Raven sighs. "My point exactly… …"

Cyborg wanders by, taking a sensor reading with his forearm and smirking: "Well, ladies, at least we got us some extra bodies to carry the weight lately—Huh?"

"Heheheeee!" Starfire cups her hands together. "Indeed we do! The 'more the merriment', yes?"

Raven says nothing. She tyredly gazes over towards the T-Car.

I helplessly shudder. Something about that girl gives me the chills. Sh-She doesn't think I'm staring, does she?

No.

No, I'm not staring.

I lean my head back and take a big swig out of a yellow canteen of water. I douse the remaining moisture over my sweaty forehead and neck. Exhaling from the sensation. Cooling. Relaxing…

I am seated on the asphalt with my back positioned against the front tire of the parked T-Car. I rest my arms on my haunches and let Myrkblade dangle in its scabbard between me and Cyborg's car. I exhale….and exhale… .. …

If this is how tyring it's going to get, how are we ever going to last a month?

I feel a stabbing strobe. Another police squad car has driven up to the crime scene where the thugs' van overturned a half-hour ago. The twirling lights hurt my eyes. I inhale through my nostrils, concentrate, and summon a thin veil of smoke to fountain protectively out of my solid black optics. I relax again and watch the scene unfold… ..or 'collapse'.

Either or. It doesn't matter.

The Titan girls—Raven and Starfire—are standing on the sidelines and watching (or waiting) as the investigation carries through. They appear peaceful side by side, despite their differences. Which must not have been an easy thing for the two femme friends to have accomplished. I can only guess—that—with all the months they've had to fight side by side, they've grown accustomed to each other enough to look this.. … …tranquil. I can only wonder if I'll ever be part of such a circle of solace. Not so much a matter of trust.. …. ..but reliability…. …

Cyborg walks back and forth before them. He has many tricks up his sleeve, literally. Right now he is producing a scanning device from the inside of his metal wrist. I can only assume he's looking for trace remnants of the mineral samples that the crooks stole from the museum we chased them from. You know, broken rock pieces and stuff. Because—dear God, we really trashed them good. Didn't we? It can't entirely be blamed on us, I guess. I suppose that's why Cyborg's not frowning as he passes us. But then again, he just gets along well with a lot of people… …

"Like that Superman ride at Six Flags!" Beast Boy pumps his arm as he and Terra suddenly waltzes by the T-Car. "RUMMMMBLE—goes the street and—WHOOOOSH—the van goes up!… .. …Wha-BAAAM! The van goes dowwwwwwn! Hahaha!"

"Tee hee hee… …"

"Dude… ..D-Dudette, you were like totally OWNING them tonight! HAH! The only reason Robin's ticked is cuz you didn't let him get a piece of the action—what, with the way you ended the thugs' run just like that and all!"

Terra smiles nervously and pushes a strand of gold threaded hair over her ear. "I-I didn't even know that Robin was 't-ticked' to begin with.. …"

"Pfft. Terra, you know how he is with newcomers… …"

I bite my lip at that. Yeah… …It's going to be that kind of night.. ….

"Hey. Stiff upper lip," a country singing voice reverberates to the right side of me. And I am suddenly reminded of the soft, twanging melody floating aloft all about. I turn my dark-haired head and tilt up to see him sitting on the rear of the T-Car parallel to me. He strums at his faithful guitar. Some hymnalesque country tune that is so soothing that it's no wonder I take this long to figure out that the soundtrack to life is—as always—his doing and his doing alone. It's some favorite ballad of his. A number by Johnny Strait… … …or is it George Cash? Whatever.

He strums. He half-glances at me with a southern swagger. Glinting black shades and a broad rimmed hat like a Carolina thundercloud. His smile steadies the storm much like his expert guitar fingers facilitate: "That's what I always say. Keep your chin up. Never let new folks give you the third degree. Especially the jokesters."

I blink my smoking optics at him. I point over my shoulder at the two youngest Titans and mouth: 'Beast Boy'? 'Terra'?

"Cyborg too. I don't know if they're trying to drive us insane before we even have a lick of a chance in making it permanent on this team they've invited us in on—But the key is not to get sick of it. And certainly not to let it get to your head."

I frown slightly. I slip my fingers up and perform a 'dance' of sorts. Swift, near-blurred sign language. Gestures so specific and direct that only a friend with a trained eye and an experience in 'watching me speak' could decipher.

And Bard does just that in an instant. A pair of eyes warmly peek out from the top rims of his shades. "You know what I'm talkin' about! You take things a little too personally, Noir. It doesn't take a lot to send your feelings for a loop, so don't let these people tread on you. No matter how much we're supposed to be steppin' to their rhythm."

I snicker. As much as a young man without a voice can snicker. I'm almost sixteen years old and yet this tall, muscled rodeo clown with cigarette breath wants to treat me like a younger brother. Do I protest?… .. …I fervently hand-sign.

He responds with a laugh of his own. Too loud for his own good—the good of both of us. Some police officers are looking—but all too soon they are huffing the sight and sound of us noobies away and returning to their monotonous duties.

"You are!" Bard cackles, almost disrupting his guitaring. "You so are, and you know it! And don't complain about me lookin' after you, neither! Even tonight, I could have sworn you were going to get your head turned into a lead pencil hadn't I been there to dish out some of the Lord's finer instruments of pain."

I point at him and charade a 'vehicle slamming through a door'.

At that, the 'older brother' winces: "Er… ..well…. ..yep. That motorcycle thing was a flimsy bit unorthodox. B-But it could have been worse. Hey, what was the token white guy's name in C.H.i.P.S? Ya know, the guy who rode alongside Poncherello and always got his ass handed to him?"

I give him a lopsided raising of my eyebrows. I smirk helplessly.

"Heh.. ..Yeah…BAD ROLE MODEL," Bard hits a sour note. On purpose. He only strikes a bad note on purpose. I swear—it causes a butterfly on the opposite side of the world to die everytime. The monarch murderer. "Hmmm… …they're takin' a heap of time getting this crime scene under wraps," the cowboy cranes his neck and looks the way of the investigators around the smashed van. "You reckon if Terra hadn't gone all Richter Scale on the getaway vehicle, we wouldn't have all the evidence so mangled as it is now?"

I shrug. I lean back against the tire, exhale, and scratch a hand once through my neck-length black strands….

"If you ask me, she's the one screwin' up, not us," Bard strums and half-mutters. "Pfft….Noobies indeed!"

I swiftly turn to him and hand-sign.

He blinks my way. "H-Huh?"

I repeat with a flurry of fingers: 'Do not let it get to your head.'

"Oh hush up."

I snicker breathlessly… …

Then, from above: "I'm only seeing two of ya!"

Bard does a double-take. He tilts his head up sky-ward towards an incoming glow. "Whatsit-Whosit?"

"Sorry I couldn't kick butt with ya guys earlier," Static Shock comes gliding down on a brilliant, trademark manhole cover. He kickflips the metal disc into his underarm and lands in urban grace before strolling over with a smirk. "I got delayed by an arson spree in the heart of Dakota City. Those damn Bang Babies don't know when to quit."

"With a name like that, I reckon I can't blame 'em."

"Anyways, I was saying I only see two noobies here, y'all."

"Why's that, Virgil? Forgot to pack a hand mirror with you?"

Static's goggled eyes widen as he jolts back with a gasp: "Hey!" He half-crouches and hisses to us in nervous secrecy: "What did I tell y'all about sayin' my name out in the open?"

"Big whoop, man," Bard looks my way. "Noir, ain't that a big whoop?"

I furiously shake my head 'no'.

"Pfft! Man, you guys are whack! And for the record, I'm no noobie!"

"Uhhh…Virgil? Didn't you join the Titans just a week before Noir and I here did?"

"Nuts to you! I fought with them before! Brother Blood.. …Slade…Huh? Slade?.? HUH?.?

I smirk and hand-sign before the two.

Static glances shiftily from me to Bard. "What's he sayin'… …?"

Bard winks. "He reckons that that was just a 'cameo' on your part."

"It weren't no cameo! It was life or death! What have you and Silent Bob there done lately that's been even close to 'life or death'?"

"Well, we sure as Hell haven't been showin' up at the crime scene a flippin' day late!"

Static puts on a sarcastic smile. "'Hah hah hah'. Where's Robin? I want to cast the first stone at you two."

I motion with my head towards the police business.

"Oh snap," Static grimaces. "Investigation stuff? Nuh-uh. I'm out."

"Heheheheheh," Bard strums merrily. "No Bang Babies here, man. Just paperwork."

"Sure looks like an army's worth. Whew! What in God's name happened anyway?"

"Uhm….. …I dunno, really," Bard levitates a brass-knuckled hand in mid-air and half-shrugs. "Buncha crooks were fixin' to steal an exhibit's worth of wyrd lookin' rocks from the museum, so to blitz them Robin sends 'lil Noir in first to catch the thugs off guard. Well, I respect Robin and all, but that's just plum askin' for trouble when you send a teammate alone. So….well… ..I-I took the natural responsibility of revin' up my steel horse and—"

"You blitzed them too, didn't ya?" Static folds his arms with a knowing smirk.

Bard scratches the back of his neck. "… … …m-maybe… …."

I roll my black eyes.

"Man, you've got to realize that your buddy there can look after himself!" Static points at me. "I know y'all are friends and stuff, but sometimes for the sake of the team you gotta stop obsessing so much over the fact that you are a team—"

"There were twenty-four armed men in the exhibit room when Noir dropped in on them."

Static blinks. "… …Oh.. …erhm.. …t-twenty-four?"

"Yup."

"… .. ….," Static looks at me.

I look at him.

"… .. …. …," he smirks helplessly at Static and produces a pair of sparkling fingertips. "You don't suppose that Robin's late for an impromptu bit of shock treatment?"

I chuckle breathily.

"Heh heh heh," Bard manages a discreet chuckle before muttering through the edges of his lips: "Don't look now, but---"

Robin walks up. No, better yet, he's been here for a good ten seconds already: "Am I missing an important discussion?"

"DAH JEEZ!" Static jumps a foot off the ground. His ears spark like lightning rods before he hugs the manhole cover to his chest and walks awkwardly backwards. "R-Robin! B-Boss! Leader Titan-man… ..heh heh……. ….. …..H-HEY!"

"Static Shock," Robin's eyes are folded. His eyemask is narrow and his voice is rigid. God, do I want to shudder.. …. "You're late."

"I… …erm.. …yeah…."

Robin's eyemask narrows more… …

"… ..I just.. ..ya know…Bang Babies.. … ..a-and…erm—" He shoots his head toward the scene and suddenly brightens. "Whoah! Donuts!" SWOOOSH! He dashes over in a sparkling trail of lightning.

Bard and I gulp in the spotlight.

Robin paces to a spot between us and glares at both of us.. ….and yet neither of us in particular.

"You two in one piece?"

"Erm.. …I reckon."

I nod fervently.

"Good," Robin nods. Then almost hisses even: "We had a plan. What…Happened?"

"Motorcycle tires happened," Bard smiled nervously. "J-Just ask the gunman back at the museum with rubber soot all over his face."

"No time for jokes."

"Yeah? Tell that to Beast Boy," Bard points with the guitar neck.

Robin calms himself, keeps his voice low, and points at the cowboy while speaking: "I've been patient with you, Bard. You too, Noir."

I jump slightly at the sight of his…. …eyesight.

He glares at me.. …Bard… .. ..the both of us: "You were both elected onto this team to be a part of our team. The Titans. I know you two have had some experience working with each other in the past—"

I can't help it. I almost snicker—'Some?.?.?'.

"—but that doesn't mean you can make the rules just by yourselves. When I give an order, I make a decision on behalf of the Titans' leadership. And I expect you to obey."

"Yes, Robin."

"Next time, when I ask you to keep with the group until we are all ready to give Noir—or whoever—the backup required, you do so. Everything would have gone as planned if you had just played the part you were supposed to have."

"Yes, Robin—"

"We've performed these sorts of blitzes in the past. Only, Starfire acted as the wildcard. Because she was fast and versatile and dependable. She still is—only bad guys are starting to predict her. That's why—now that we've got some new blood in our ranks—we need to start working on better and newer surprises."

"Heh… ..sure as Hell ain't a better surprise than Noir and I here catapulting in their laps, huh, Noir?" Bard gives me the thumb's up.

I want to giggle. I give him the thumb's up, smile, turn to glance at Robin-- ----and stop smiling.

He finishes his silencing glare, sighs, and rubs his brow before resuming: "I wonder if Speedy and Bumblebee are having this much trouble getting Jinx and Kid Flash to step in line over at Titan's East…."

"Trouble? Now hold your horses, Robin!" Bard holds a hand up. "You talk as if we're total screwups! What bad could possibly have come out of what happened tonight? I mean, we whooped all the crooks' butts tonight, didn't we?"

"And in the meantime… …" I can swear that Robin's holding back a sadistic smirk of his own. "… …one got away."

A beat.

Bard swallows: "You for real?"

Robin nods. ".. ….and with one of the stolen artifacts from the museum."

"… … ..huh… …"

Robin sighs, genuinely stressed. "And there's no telling now just what purpose that rock must be serving these criminals.. …." He runs a hand over his masked face and mumbles: "How in the world am I going to explain this to the Police Commissioner.. .. …?"

"Uhm.. …El Nino?"

Robin parts a pair of fingers to mask-glare at us just in time. "You do know what this means for you two rookies, right?"

Rookies. Gosh darn it.. … ..

"What?" Bard blinks.

This time, the sadistic smirk Robin has is no longer hidden.

And Bard instantly knows just as soon as I do: "Awwww shucks." KABONG! His guitar weeps. "Laundry duty!"

I collapse on the asphalt.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The thick-muscled, gritty thug runs wounded through the city streets. His limping feet skate through puddles. He pants as his sweat joins an open glass wound or two. He isn't dying by any means, but he isn't happy either.

"Shit! Shit Shit Shitty.. …sh-shit!" He spits. "Whole shitty night g-gone to shit!.. … .. ..SHIT!"

He rounds a corner, and nearly trips—No—He nearly drops something. It is something that juggles in his grasp as he gasps and limps forward to catch against his chest. He cradles a ruby quartz rock sample, leaning weakly against a brick building corner. He squints his eyes against the relentless night. The sound of sirens in the background pump his blood faster. He swallows a dry throat, licks drier lips, and prepares to limp forward when—

VROMMMM! A red metal, hovering robot floats down and rotates a mechanical iris at the lonely thug. A series of speakers on the contraption's exoskeleton collectively crackle: "That's far enough, Mister Jacobs. The police couldn't possibly find you this far from the crash scene. You've done excellently—Though I can't say the same about your.. …unfortunate compatriots. Eheheheheh…."

The thug frowns. "You piece of shit—You saw the whole thing?"

"But of course I did! Don't be silly! I'm not going to sit back and be blindsided by the events transpiring this night! Much rather….eheheheh…..I want a clean helping of my share of the bargain!"

"Bargain my ASS!" the criminal points with a growl: "Why didn't help us earlier? We could have used someone to bail us out when the Titans got on our dicks!"

"Dear sir, eloquently put: NOBODY'S 'phallus' is safe as far as those meddling children are concerned. Eheheh….I should know that. Do you think I hide behind all this remote circuitry because I am people-shy? Mmm? Well, perhaps I am—eheheh—but a different matter. AHEM… …now hand over the gem."

Cl-Clak! The man aims a magnum straight into the eye of the floating android. "Screw you with crackerjacks, nutjob!" the grizzly thug hisses. "I ain't givin' you a ounce of what you asked for until I start seeing the greenbacks I broke my ass over tonight!"

There is an electronic equivalent of a sigh emanating from the heartless heart of the hoverbot. "Really, now. Do we have time for this reckless pish-posh? HA! Eheheheh—I suddenly have a riddle for you, my good man."

"Pffft. Humor me, ya fish humper."

"What's black and white and red all over?" And a nozzle on the top of the hoverbot whurs open, glows, and—PTZZZZZZZZ! A red spray envelops the man, and in half a second he is encased in a frozen globule of red crystal.

"… … .. …"

"Eheheheh…I rest my case." The robot twirls about, stretches out a metal arm, produceds a power drill, bores a hole in the crystal prison, stretches a tactile tentacle inside, latches ahold of the red crystal in the frozen thug's hand, and promptly yanks it out. CHUNK! "Ah.. …there we are, pretty. Off to the lab!"

And the hoverbot levitates up towards the blinding cosmos….

"Don't take it the wrong way, Mister Jacobs. I've learned it's better to emulate 'bad boys' than pay them. Eheheheheh… …"

Then….

Silence.

The frozen thug remains still and solid in the column of red ice.

Hours pass.

In the wee morning hours, a wandering, stray dog trots up to the iced thug's side, sniffs, lifts its leg, and pees on him.