I've never liked cities and, most probably, I never will. Jump City is no exception. But even so, I have to admit the city is beautiful under the glow of a sunset. Then again, just about everything is beautiful under the glow of a sunset. And then comes the night.
Night here in the city and night in the mountains are two horses of a completely different color. Night in the mountains is soft and clean and pure. It's even a little mystical, like being in heaven with the lights turned off. Night in the city is the total opposite. It's dirty and sinister like a bane on the land as it fights with the street lights and their weak weapons of artificial yellow light that struggle to keep it at bay. But when night falls on both places, that's when the predators come out to prey on the weak.
In the mountains, that's just mother nature at work. In the city, I believe it's human nature at it's basest level. It's still wrong, however, and that's when the Teen Titans are for.
It sounds so noble when you say it like that. The Teen Titans protect the innocent citizens of the city from predators that work and strike evilly from the shadows. But when you get right down to the bare bones of the matter, at the end of the day...it's just a job. Though I reckon policemen and firemen, inarguably heroes themselves, would probably say the same thing about their own line of profession, I suspect. Still, it gives me a good feeling to be doing my to serve and protect, especially since I'd been on the wrong side of the equation in the not so distant past.
Zillah...that was her name. For some reason, I was drawn to her. But I had no idea why. Maybe it was her eyes. Her eyes reminded me of-
I stopped, stretched and actually took a moment to really look around.
I was on Main Street, the heart of Jump City. I saw a two-story pizza parlor, along with other stores and restaurants lining the street. I saw more and more people, mostly teenagers and young people, getting ready for a night out on the town.
"H-hey! Excuse me!" I young man about my own age flagged me down from behind.
I turned to him.
"Phew. Sorry to bother you and all, but do you play guitar?"
I blinked at him. How in the world did he know I played-...
Oh, right. Six-string on my back.
"Yeah, I play a little."
"Great! I need you to help me out. I'd be forever grateful to ya, man!"
My curiosity was sparked now.
"What can I do for ya?"
"You see...it's my girlfriends birthday, ya know? I'm taking her out to this real expensive restaurant and...she loves Eric Clapton to death. Could you maybe like play a song or two for her? You'd really be helping me out."
Eric Clapton really wasn't my cup of tea, but the earnestness on the boy's face persuaded me.
"Sure," I smiled. "Lead the way."
I thought he was going to positively bubble over.
"Thank you!"
I started to feel better. This city was filled with good, appreciative people. You just had to find them. Or, rather...let them find you.
TTTTTTTTTT
Cyborg muttered to himself as stomped into the lab in Titans Tower.
"Psh...high five my titanium butt. Stupid little..." He trailed off as he reached a keypad and, with his one hand, typed in a ten digit code.
The far wall spun around, revealing dozens of different parts for Cyborg's body: Hands, arms, legs and even shoulder and sonic cannon replacements. Cyborg took an arm off the rack and hit the keypad with his elbow, sending the wall back around to normal.
"Stupid magnetism. I swear, I should have skipped science class the day they taught that..."
With a huff, he sat down and went to work. He locked the arm onto his shoulder and, with his good hand, produced a finger blowtorch.
The door behind him slid open.
"Uhhh, dude." Beast Boy smacked the side of his head, trying to water out of his ears. "I'm never going swimming again."
"I'm with ya on that one, BB."
Beast Boy watched Cyborg go about reattaching his arm.
"You gonna be okay?"
Cyborg glanced at him.
"Sure thing, dawg. I've done this a million times." He paused. "Hey...is Terra all right?"
Beast Boy blinked, caught off-guard.
"Just saying," Cyborg went on. "The girl's been a little quiet lately. And she ain't quiet."
"Well..." Beast Boy rubbed the back of his neck. "She's got a lot on her mind...I-I guess..."
"Not trying to pry, man. Besides, she's got you to take care of her, right?"
"Heh...I guess." Beast Boy squared his shoulders. "No time like the present, right?"
"Heheh. Go get'er, Casanova."
His reply was a raspberry before the doors swooshed shut again.
Cyborg went back to his arm.
"...Now if I can only find Static a girlfriend, I might actually get some work done."
TTTTTTTTTT
Robin leaned over the desk cluttered with inventions, weapons, clues and newspaper clippings. He didn't see them, though, as the slits of his eye mask were narrowed and lost in thought.
It's simple. There is good...and there is evil. There are those who commit crimes...and those who stop them. The two sides are opposite. And the line between them is clear as night and day. Or at least...
It's supposed to be.
The room was very dim, but not pitch dark. The walls, covered with newspaper clippings, could be seen.
'Who is Slade?'
'Mumbo Jumbo Strikes Again'
'Kitten Apprehended'
'Chang Escapes'
There is good, and there is evil. But the line between them can be impossible to find. Does one good deed make him a hero? Am I to blame for it all because of a single mistake?
In the end...all I really know is that the answered don't come easy. It's supposed to be simple...
But it's not.
Robin shuddered and let his cape fall over him.
TTTTTTTTTT
The boy's request to play music was over, and it instilled in me a desire to play my guitar even more. But the city was starting to put a strain on me. I felt closed in by the blocky man-made mountains of concrete. So I retreated to the beach.
Besides the majestic mountains, the beach is my favorite place to be. I love the ocean...the mystery and grandeur of it. The salty smell and the sloshing sighs. It reached for the sky and never makes it. I can relate.
A short pier pointed out into the ocean like a finger of land. I walked to the end and sat down, dangling my boots over water.
Many people misunderstand what country music is all about. Or rather...what it's supposed to be in it's greatest and truest form. Country music isn't about eloquent lyrics or guitar solos or singers that never miss a note. Country music is about one thing and one thing only: Emotion. True, pure, unbridled emotion.
I sang and played my guitar then, putting my whole heart and soul in it. When I played a sad ballad, you could hear in my voice the sound of my heart breaking. And when I played an old, upbeat hymn, you could hear the joyous sound of my soul celebrating. And you could hear it...because I truly felt those things.
I am not Starfire, who's cheer is perpetual. Or Raven, who's gloom is habitual. My emotions are much more unpredictable and varied because they are a mystery even to myself. There is a great sadness inside me, a void in my soul that I somehow believe will never truly be filled. And then there is a warm joy that pulses around my heart. They are not conflicting. They are simply inside me and I recognize that.
Maybe I'm just rambling. The sea will make me do that. It sets my brain into thinking long, complicated thoughts that usually vanish before me like mist among the waves.
But I have sang and told the world how I felt. And while not a single soul heard, I was glad for the fact. It made it a much more personal experience.
I stood slowly, put my guitar on my back and walked slowly back in the direction of Titans Tower. My soul was cleansed now, and I was ready for whatever challenges awaited me.
