"Pass… …the… …smoking… …stick….," Raven sits cross-legged on the floor of the engine room and holds up a hand with a heinously straight-face. "I am Chief Savage Beast. This is… …my cousin.. With Cowtails… … …And meet my Nephew.. … …Born On a Buffalo.. …."
The Titans watch, standing in single-file. A collective scratching of the noggins ensues between them all. All the while, the blue-haired victim rambles on possessedly:
"Please. Take these beads. They are… …adorned with.. ….the story of how my people.. … …fought back the Spaniards… .. ..with arrowheads made from our forefather's teeth…."
As Raven continues to…..'suck' on an invisible pipe, the others look at each other.
"Okay, so Raven is enacting every pathetic stereotype known to man," Beast Boy whispers. "How soon is the world going to end this time?"
Cyborg mutters: "I'd say we're fine until she starts doing Italians—or worse—the Swedish."
"Guys!" Terra hops up. "She's in a pickle! We've got to do something!"
"I'd say we could all start by picking up the litter around here," Beast Boy gestures. "I've only seen Raven cry once in our career, it's not worth a second time. On television—even."
"Dude, what the Hell you smokin'?" Static hisses.
"Don't you have a lava lamp somewhere to keep company?"
"Let me tell you something, elf-nuts—"
"Shhh—Everyone," Robin holds a hand up. "Listen…."
Everyone tunes in as Raven performs a tribal gesture and speaks to an invisible face: "Luke, the person you seek is being held by that land-grabbing gang in Mud Valley—The site of an old, abandoned mine. I believe it is where the white man has sought their precious 'gold' before. A curse upon that wretched metal for bringing so much pain and pestilence here!"
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
Bard, 'Savage Beast', and I sit around the campfire in the center of the Indian camp… …pow-wow.. …. …. ….('reservation'?)
"You mean to say that the Black Robin and El Maquino are setting up house in an abandoned gold mine?" Bard raises an eyebrow while polishing his pistol.
The 'indian' Beast Boy nods in the flickering firelight under the stars. "Yes. The white man is a creature of obviousness, is he not?"
"He's a creature prone towards working at cubicles and envying basketball skills," Bard winks. "Heh heh heh," he looks my way. "This is getting funner by the second, you reckon?"
I exhale from where I sit with my animal-teeth-necklace and body paint. I must admit. It's hard for me to keep a straight face.
'Savage Beast' indeed. Since when did the Cherokee have pointed ears—
"Little Squirrel," a tribesman passes me a pipe. "The smoking stick. You are our brother. Surely you know what to do with this."
I nod.
I toss it across the campfire into Bard's unwitting hands.
'Luke the Drifter' grabs the pipe, smiles nervously, and puts it to his lips. "D-Don't mind if I do… …" He puffs, coughs much more violently than even I could have predicted, and tries to compose himself with a Southern breathiness to his haggard breath: "S-So.. …snkkkt-rrghhaackkk….ahem. What's so important about this 'Raven' girl?"
Bard glances aside at me as he speaks.
I share his glance, trying to keep at least half of a sane brain within the 'real world'.
"You do not know?" 'Savage Beast' blinks. "Surely you must know of this special Raven's prestige and standing!"
"I know she can toss a guy off a couch if she feels the notion."
"…… ….huh?"
I cough breathily.
Beast Boy goes on: "Many moons ago, the prospectors of white man established this village of theirs across the river for grazing their cattle. A large merchant trade business flourished—especially with the arrival of those looking for gold—and the prospector became very powerful. His very daughter is Raven, a young woman of honorable prestige and—"
"Whoah—Hold on! Time out!" Bard holds his hands up perpendicular to each other and snakes over to where I'm sitting.
He leans in.
I lean in.
He whispers: "If Raven is really Raven and not just some psuedo-Raven, it may be the first time we've made any progress in this wyrdo hallucination."
I look at him. I blurringly hand-sign.
He slaps my red brow with a cowboy hat. "YES….Of COURSE we're here for more than just sight-seeing!" He glances around at the stars, the campfire, the smoke and haze and nostalgia. "… …as purtiful as the sights may be…."
I frown.
He snaps out of it. "Of course. Ahem…So—I reckon if we track down this 'Raven', it may give us a bunch of answers. I mean---look at all the other Titans here. So far, they've all been playing nothing but rolls in this story. Just like you and me. But we got here by going into Raven's room. Maybe she's the end of all this?"
I shrug. I hand-sign to him.
He nods: "Just what I'm thinking. We've got to play this shin-dig through. But without hurting anyone. The only way we know that this all ain't real is just how cheesy the whole damn thang is. I mean… …EVERY Indian campsite in a movie is belt next to a stream, you reckon?"
I smirk ever so slightly. A beat. I look over his shoulder. He also looks.
'Savage Beast' and the rest are all staring at us.
"… … …what are you doing to Little Squirrel?"
Bard glances at himself… ..notices how he's leaning over my shirtless figure, clears his throat, and crawls back to his spot around the campfire. "Ahem… …" He's almost as 'red' as me. "You kind Plains-folk think you might share with us exactly where this big, bad gold mine is?"
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
Static glances aside at Cyborg. "'Luke'? 'Little Squirrel'? 'Savage Beast'? Just who are these punks?"
"Raven's obviously having a deep, invigorating conversation with herself."
"Does she do that?" Static shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. "I mean.. …she does have a bunch of demon stuff in her head. Does dissociative personality count—"
"It's not like that!" Cyborg barks.
"Yeesh! Sorry for existing!"
"Sounds like a Western's going on in her head," Terra says. A beat. She helplessly giggles. "Hehehe…interesting choice. I like it."
"Hmmm mmmm….," Robin strokes his chin.
"Got an idea, Robbie?"
"… … …," Robin glances over at the other Titans. "Where's Bard?"
Cyborg does a double-take. "H-Huh?"
"You heard me. The nooby. The cowboy. Where is he?"
"I-I don't know," Beast Boy shrugs. "Wrestling a bull somewhere?"
Static gasps and tries to snap his finger. Thip. "I know—" He pauses. "… .. …" He takes his glove off. He tries again. Snap! "I KNOW! I talked to him earlier!"
"And?"
"He was trying to meet Raven about something that happened last night. Looks like they had some bad apples between them and he wanted to set things straight."
"Oh yeah…hehehe," Beast Boy giggles. "I heard about that, dude! WHEW! Man did the stuffing fly!"
"Yeah.. …I was in the middle of the sandwich," Static growls.
"Eh heh heh.. …," Beast Boy scratches the back of his neck.
"So.. ….let me guess," Robin gestures. "Bard was on his way to—"
"Raven's room," Static nods.
"… .. ….," Robin glances aside towards Terra. "And where's Noir?"
"We.. …erm…s-sent him to Raven's room to get the book of Azar so that we might cure Raven's ramblings."
"… .. …and how long ago was that?"
"Whoah-damn… …," Cyborg's human eye widens.
A pause. Static tilts his head to the ceiling and throats: "Computer: Locate Titans Bard and Noir."
Cyborg elbows him: "Bro, it doesn't work that way!"
"Hey! Forgive a nerd for tryin'!" Static shrugs.
"Terra, Beast Boy, Cyborg, Static….," Robin walks over and gently pulls a 'pipe-smoking' Raven to her feet. "… … …I think it's about time we gave Raven's room a clandestine visit."
"Oh what joy this will be," Beast Boy murmurs.
"Stay.. …away….. …from the Bison.. ….when they give.. …to the earth," Raven deeply murmurs.
Then Beast Boy snickers.
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
It is suddenly morning time.
Luke—er---Bard and I are horseriding over a hill with Savage Beast and two other faux native Americans on horseback.
"There it is.. …the white man's Gold Hole."
I cringe.
"Really, Beast Boy," Bard sighs and glares aside. "Can't you drop the McCarthy Era written stereotype speech and just say 'Abandoned Gold Mine'?"
"Who is this 'Beast Boy' you keep entreating?"
"Oh, how could you POSSIBLY reckon?" Bard dismounts as I hop down beside him. "How do you like my sarcasm?" He whispers aside to me.
I wave a hand from side to side---and trip on a prairie dog hole. WHAM!
The Indians on horseback laugh.
I groan mutely into the dirt and wait there as Bard walks up and looks through an antique viewing scope. "Hmmm mmm…. …Looks like the place hasn't been touched for years.. …" In the morning light of dawn, he examines the sunken, muddy ravine carved into the Kansas earth. The rickety mine car tracks erected on splintery wooden supports. The scant few militant gang members patrolling the various wooden platforms of the earthen pit. There's a small, wooden shack atop the topmost rise. There's no sign of the Black Robin or El Maquino. Much less—
"If Miss Raven's to be had anywhere in there, I reckon she's being kept someplace relatively clean," he says. He turns around and smiles at the Indians. "Everyone in the old west has a streak of gentlemanly nature in 'em, right? Heh heh heh—"
POW!
Ping! His cowboy hat is shot off his head from a long ranged rifle.
He and I gasp and duck behind the earth.
The two Indians on horseback whoop and ride off. Savage Beast's ears droop as he guides his steed around and speedily follows them. "Savage Beast says white man is screwed! To Incan Hell with this crap!"
POW! P-POW! POW! Bullets ricochet off the dirt hill around us.
We flinch all the more.
The gang members hiss and holler from beyond at rifle-range: "Come on out of there, Luke! Ya yellow-bellied sonuvabitch!"
"We've got our sights on ya!"
"Stop hiding and fight like a man!"
"Okay… ..Okay….," Bard sweats and breathes to himself. "What would Clint Eastwood do?"
I hand-sign.
Bard hisses: "Man, I hate Mystic River! No siree—I never touch a singled damned thing with Sean Penis in it!"
I roll my black eyes—
PING!
Flinching, Bard readies his pistol and murmurs: "Well, we could test out just how much this lil western thang of ours goes by the book. A guns-blazing ending always goes well for the protagonist, right?"
I gesture.
"Well of course, the white guys get out—Oh….," he bites his lip.
I fold my arms over my 'red' chest.
"Yeah…well….ahem…. …. ….Well shucks!"
I look towards the gold mine. "… … …" I glance down at my leather belt and tomahawks. "… … …" I smile. I glance at him.
He glances back at me and winces: "Ah jeez….what kind of plan do you have cookin' in that noggin of yours?"
I smile….
