I do a double-take. Blinking my black eyes.
Starfire's hair droops in the wind like a pair of sagging ears. "Erm.. …" She numbly shakes her head. "Did a gratuitous set of fingernails just now prevail upon grinding their keratin into the bone marrow of the planet?"
"You heard me right, my honking duckies! Your good health and reputation has just run out! The pathetic, septic American reputation! HA! Time to reclaim for the Royal House!"
Gasping voices. Wide-eyed glances. Turning heads.
I follow the astonished gaze of the crowd up, up, up…. …and gasp myself.
For a huge, nautical battleship of Nineteenth Century prestige is flying into the length of Main Street.
Wait, flying? No—
It is a giant replica of a ship.. .. …suspended on a series of elongated dirigibles. An airship—in the literal sense. A magical cloud of fog parts way to expose its earthward trajectory on the red, blimp-like structures. The words 'H.M.S. Bounty' are splashed across the wooden finish.
"X'Hal above!" Starfire gasps. "It is a giant dread of the naught!"
"Snkkkt—Ahoy there, ya upstart sods!" Mad Mod's voice crackles over loud speakers positioned where the sails should be. "The tide's rollin' in, and it's high time the Colonies just sunk back into the brine where they belong for the next few years! Maybe a good soiling of your collective britches will teach you a thing or two about defying the prospect of my high class!"
I squint my black eyes. I stare at the bow of the ship…
A skeletonous redhead in a ridiculous 'admiral' getup props his narrow self upon the edge of the ship, peering down at us through a long, long telescope and spitting his yellow mouth into a microphone.
"A week ago I plodded into town hoping you might show me some ample respect! All I wanted was to tidy up after the boorish pavement pizza you call ART and FASHION! Spendin' all of this bloody money on a talent show where beauty is equated with a pimply young bird singing to a nun's choir—HAH! You need some pizzazz, mates! You need to have your knees up for something swingin' and groovy and off your trolley smashin' and bob's your uncle!"
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
Beast Boy floats up in the form of a pigeon and settles—perching in elf-form—upon a window sill just meters away from the hulking bottomside of the flying ship.
"Whoah.. …. ..d-dude….," he murmurs. "Pip-Pip on the poop deck.. …."
"So I offered to render the whole lot of you my best services! But was I given' the bees knees like I deserve?"
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
"NO!" Mad Mod howls into his microphone. He stands on the precipice of the ship's bow, a myriad of misty meters above the gazing, crowded Main Street below. "You barmy headed dip sticks sent me running left, right, and center! That's what it always is with you soddy-footed Yanks! Always know respect for the Queen's kin!"
He stands up straight, twirls his telescope, and magically turns it into the ruby-headed staff of trademark psychoterrorism.
"So how about a new tradition, ya Jump City gits?.!.?.! I take your lovely daughters, who were going to show off their knickers in a public display of colonial commercialism anyways, and teach them how to naff off your fetters of unimaginative traditions Mad Mod style!.!.!"
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
Robin grits his teeth in frustration as he stares up at the hovering madman.
"A one and a two and a---…HOLD ONTO YOUR BISCUITS!"
Robin's eyemask widens. He sees what's going to happen before there is anything happening to see.
"Titans!" He shouts half to the air, half into his communicator. "Move--!"
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
But it's too late.
The H.M.S. Victory II is floating directly overhead to the City Hall. The stage. The pageant. A red laser whurrrrrs out from the belly of the dreadnaught and aims its sight upon the limos.
FLASSSSSH!
A bright, yellow spotlight encircles the two, long vehicles.
Bard gasps. Frowning, he whips out adamantium knuckles in one hand and a pistol in the other.
"Oh no you don't!" Mad Mod's voice crackles through the air as a red targeting sight centers upon the small of Bard's back. "Not this time, bushwacker!"
"H-Huh?" the cowboy turns—He gasps and spins in time—
POW! A sniper from the crowd fires at him.
CLANG! Bard miraculously deflects the bullet spray with the metal of his knuckles. "Unnngh!" The blast nevertheless sends him falling off the bike and onto his rear. "OOF!"
"YAAAAUGH!" The sniper in question leaps out of the gasping, fleeing crowd. He is a ridiculously stereotypically dressed Redcoat with an authentic rifle turned into a high-class sniper rifle. "FOR THE QUEEN!" He charges straight at Bard with a bayonet.
"Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me—" The cowboy begins.
WHURRRRRRR! The bayonet converts to a ferocious, miniature chainsaw.
Bard's shaded eyes widen. "LEAPING LIMEYS!" He reverse somersaults, hobbles to his feet, and barely ducks, side-steps, and limbo-dodges the serrated swings of the red-garbed henchman. SWISSH! SWISSSH! SWISSH!
"YAAUGH!" the redcoat twirls with a flapping of his suit's tails. He kicks Bard hard in the chest. WHAP!
"Ooof!" Bard slams back into a limo. The girls inside shriek as he braces himself and clamps both hands against the barrel of the rifle as the chainsaw bayonet is forced down, down, down towards the bridge of his nose. "Nnnn-Nnngh!"
Whurrrrrrr!
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
From the stage…
"Sh-Shit!" detective Decker hisses and whips out a pistol. He aims at the distant redcoat accosting Bard. "Keep still, cowboy!" He shouts as he squints one eye…
From behind him: "Dah! Damn bozo!"
Decker growls over his shoulder without looking: "Walker—For Chrissakes. Now's not a name to curse my aiming—"
WHAM! A tambourine slams hard across the back of Decker's skull.
"OOF!" He falls hard to the ground.
"Hee hee hee!" A gaily colored harlequin twirls with belled sashes ringing and slams his tambourines into Decker's backside, forcing the ragdolling detective to roll across the ground alongside the similarly throttled Walker. "Stop hittin' yourself! Stop hittin' yourself! Hip-Hip-Hurrah! Hee hee hee—"
BLAM! A stray bullet shoots a tambourine out of his grasp.
"WHOOPS!" He makes a face, twirls, and looks acrobatically upside-down across the stage.
Commissioner Ashley—frowning—reloads her pistol, cocks it and takes aim once again.
"Hee hee hee!" the harlequin twirls, twirls—
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
--and leaps, flips, twirls out of the Commissioner's firing range.
"Nnngh…," Ashley growls and shouts into a communicator built into her watch while kneeling with her gun. "Titans! This is Ashley! Robin—We could use your team's help just about—"
THWAP! A tambourine is tossed against her skull.
"OOF!"
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
"We're on it!" Robin is already running towards Bard's aid.
Snkkkt!
He extends his bo-staff and twirls it.
"Titans!" He shouts into the communicator. "GO!"
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
The crowd below is running every-which-way in horror and panic.
A loud scream gradually fills the air.
Starfire and I give each other uncertain glances following the ringing voice of Robin through the communicator.
Sooner than naught—the two of us are leaping/blurring into action.
FWOOOOSH! Starfire soars up into the air.
CHIIIING! I produce Myrkblade and leap smokily down onto the scene.
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
"HAH HAH HAH HAH!" Mad Mod's crackling laughter thunders through the air as Beast Boy morphs into an albatross and takes off into the air. Emerald wings flap and glide him up, up, up towards the hull of the H.M.S. Victory II.
The laughing, skinny figure of the 'admiral' is in clear view.
Beast Boy's milky eyes narrow. He snarls—and morphs into a ferocious pterodactyl in mid-air. "SRKIIIIII!"
Just before his talons can sink into the laughing villain—
BLAMMM!
An elephant gunshot splashes against his leathery hide and sends the flying changeling spinning.
He morphs cartoonishly back into a bruised, charred-faced elf floating in mid-air. A smoky exhale….and Beast Boy then plummets Coyote style into the Main Street asphalt below. THUD!
"Top of the 'morning to ya, Colonel!" Mad Mod salutes towards a random buildingtop.
Beneath a billboard, an African safari man with a huge, handlebar mustache and a pith helmet reloads his giant musket and barks: "Bah! I shot bigger ones in my days down in Ethiopia! Gimme bigger game and I'll fetch you a nice throw rug, my lord!"
"HAH! How I fancy me a henchman who's a bigger shag-job than I am! Hah hah hah! Fire at will!"
"Cherio, then!" The safari colonel squints, aims his boomstick down, and fires—BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
The buckshot ricochets and splashes off the body of the T-Car.
Cyborg winces, driving his pelted vehicle through the thick crowds of panicking citizens. "Nuh uh! A James Bond ripoff—maybe. But I sure as Hell ain't gonna have my Baby be ding-donged to death by COLONEL EFFIN' MUSTARD!"
Raven boredly drones: "Is that my cue?"
"Hell yeah, girl!" Cyborg's fist jams over a button. BEEP!
Schwissh! The sunroof flies open.
Swooosh! Raven calmly glides up, up, up and spreads her soul-self across Main Street like a protective umbrella of obsidian power. "The Revolution ended when it started. Azarath Metrion Zin—"
"NOT TODAY, SUNSHINE!" Mad Mod's voice shouts high above the tumult as the floating Victory swivels about. "Steady, boys! Hard to starboard—And…..FIIIIIRE!"
BL-BLAAAM!
Raven's hooded eyes glance up. "H-Huh?" They widen at the last second. POWWWW! A stream of cannonballs explode into her soul-self. "UNNNGH!" In a haze of smoke and shrapnel, the robed sorceress is plunged back down to the unforgiving earth.
"RAE!" Cyborg yelps helplessly from the T-Car below.
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
Starfire is flying across the street, guiding and carrying breathless citizens to safety.
She turns at the sound of the concussion and glances up.
A pair of green eyes fly open wide. "!.!.!.!" She gasps. "Raven!" She makes to take off—
WHAMMMM! A lance plows into her and pins her to a wall. CRUNCH!
"Ooof!" Starfire winces all over. She fights against the lance and looks down the length of it to see a knight in armor seated atop a giant, mechanical horse.
The steam-operated equine 'whinnies', grinds its hooves, and rears up as the riding henchman raises his visor in time to frown at the Tamaranian. "I'm afraid there'll be no pedestal for you, milady."
Starfire hisses: "I am most certainly NOT your 'LADY'—"
THW-THWOOOSH! He tosses her by the lance off into a storefront.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee---" CRASH!
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
I blur to a stop, startled by the sound of Starfire's impact.
But even more so….
"!.!.!.!" I gasp, tilting my head up.
Raven is falling.
Plummeting towards the panic-ridden streets below.
I run.
I blur.
Looking up at her.
Surrounded by screaming and stampeding people.
Raven falls and falls… .. …
A limp doll kissing the concrete.
I grit my teeth. I concentrate. I blur through the crowds, murking, teleporting, shifting—
THWOOOOOSH!
I dive at the last second, stretch my arms out, catch Raven's body in mid-air… .. …
… .. … ..and promptly remember how petite I am.
THUDDD!
… … …
… …
…
Ow.
