Hi guys. No offense to Crash Slayer, but I fear school is one of the origins of the phrase "cruel and unusual punishment." I've been trying to update on this, but my mind went temporarily brain dead with the load of homework my teachers have been dumping on us, plus I haven't quite had the time to sit down for awhile and just write. In the meantime, I've been coming up with a ton of new ideas for fanfics, including a few that aren't in the Teen Titans category! If you've read my bio and have seen the movies or shows I'm planning to write about, please drop by and review as soon as I get them up! Anyway, new chapter is here (And for any of you that weren't sure about Amelia—excellent! Be suspicious…be very suspicious.)

Chapter One: Rebuilding

Wintergreen (Yes, a bit more of him)-

Slade was probably the only person in the world that William trusted with his life, which was ironic, seeing as the man was a murderer in nearly every continent. The pair had been together for years, relying on one another when the going got tough; they had plotted an immeasurable amount of schemes, and nearly all of them been met with success…which is one of the reasons that Wintergreen was only slightly concerned about the newest plan that his friend had cooked up.

"Look: I know that he killed you…hell, I'm sure you've had your eye on him for quite some time now, and are aware of the total extent of his talents…but…the Batman's guttersnipe—?"

"Guttersnipe?"

"Yes, yes! The thing is, though I have heard rumors about the brat going away from the man, trying stepping out of his father's shadow, it's said that nobody messes with the boy, unless they want to end up six feet underground. Now, indeed, most people have tried to kill him instead of what you're attempting to do, but it could still go wrong. No one's done this before!"

"Exactly."

The young man was the only person on Earth that Wintergreen had left, for he was getting on in his years, and had never desired to try and start a family. He'd do anything for his favorite soldier…even if it meant standing outside a hotel at 6:48 in the morning in the freezing air, bickering with a guard about seeing someone he didn't feel like talking to again anyway.

"Look, I'm her grandfather. She asked me to come by so that we could discuss some things like my will—"

"At 6:50, when the sun has barely even risen?" The doorman asked suspiciously, moving to the side to block William again as the old man tried to dive for the door. "That doesn't sound right to me."

"Oh, please! Honestly, what would I be doing here otherwise—answer me that, will you?" Wintergreen demanded, a challenging edge creeping into his tone. "If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't bother being out here, constantly asking to speak with her."

It wasn't…entirely a lie.

"Won't you permit a helpless, dying old man one of his last wishes by speaking to his only remaining family member?" Wintergreen wheedled, attempting to look as pathetic and feeble as he could; he must have failed extravagantly, for, if anything, the doorman seemed even more doubtful than before.

You had better appreciate this, Slade…

"What have you got there?"

William, who's gray eyes had been fixed on the tiny piece of paper his fingers were turning over and over again, raised his gaze to meet Slade's.

"Sorry?"

"That…is it a business card?" The other man questioned, squinting at the tiny numbers that were written primly across its front.

"Oh…" Wintergreen gave a derisive chortle. "No, it's just from some nutcase that came an hour or so before you arrived. The woman was insane—babbling on about how she'd seen the future, which included that boy of yours, and you, and me…she was the one that recorded the news, by the way…she's of no consequence, though. I was just about to rip this up, actually…"

He made to tear the card in half, but Slade plucked it from his grasp and studied the name.

"Amelia Watson…"

The mercenary mused for a minute or so.

"…I've seen this name before…"

Wintergreen grunted in pain, as the doorman rammed him backwards.

"Now, really!" He cried, outraged. "Are you permitted to treat citizens like this?"

"If I have the sense that they're dangerous? Yes," The burly ape snarled, and crossed his arms in front of his meaty chest, watching as William picked himself up off the ground again.

"Oh, for the love of—I already told you, I'm not trying to cause any harm! I'm a very important city official who is insisting that you allow me to talk with my dear granddaughter—"

"For your information, sir, the gossip at the front desk is that Miss Watson made the request that no visitors should be allowed to see her."

The man grinned—with a bit too much satisfaction, Wintergreen noticed with deep vexation—as he revealed this new conversation starter. Instead of gaping, or tripping all over himself however, William merely straightened his business jacket with an air of utmost authority, and pulled out a card from his pocket.

"Here: If you don't think I'm telling the truth when I say that I'm on Gotham's council, you can see for yourself!"

Wintergreen thrust the laminated card at the guard, eyeing him with disdain. Slowly, cautiously, the doorman reached out to take it and look it over—

And William was on him in a second; pulling out a heavy pipe, he smacked the gorilla—several times, he might add—about the head, and the man collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Wintergreen kicked the man's body irritably, then lifted it up and sat the male on one of the wooden benches that stood on either side of the hotel's front doors, fixing his victim into a form that would suggest he had fallen asleep on the job.

"Bloody thug…"

-----------------------

Knock, knock.

His knuckles rapped smartly against the door, the silver numbers standing out in the

"Just a moment," a female voice called groggily from inside, and he heard the soft noises of somebody moving about, collecting their bearings before they had to get up. Moments later, the door swung open to reveal Amelia Watson—her frenzied bird's nest of hair even more tangled after a night's sleep—who stared at him blearily for a second, trying to recall if she had invited him or not.

"Good morning, Miss Watson. It's me, William Wintergreen? I've come to—"

"Sod off," She snapped abruptly, and had started to shut the door when he wedged his foot between the open space. Amelia struggled to slam it—obviously uncaring if she amputated most of his toes in the process—and failed; she whipped her eyes, now blazing with a passion, back up to glare at him furiously.

"I was wondering if I might come in for some tea? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

"Damn you!" She hissed between clenched teeth. "I don't want to have a chat with the likes of you, I want you to go walk off a cliff!"

"Now, now," He reasoned mockingly, trying her patience with glee. "There's no need to become temperamental with me when I'm simply here on behalf of a friend of mine—"

"You skeptics," She sneered, still shoving on the door. "You're all the same, always going out of your way to antagonize the exceptionally few people who want to use the rare gifts they've been given to help the world! Now go away!"

She'd almost succeeded in shutting him out, when he said casually:

"And have you been helping the world recently with your powers…Psyche?"

There was silence; Amelia opened up again—cautiously, as if he were a wild animal that was about to pounce—and regarded him warily.

"What did you call me?" She whispered.

"Psyche? That is a name you went under once, correct?" When she didn't answer, Wintergreen gave a smug little smile and started to recite with a flourish:

" 'London was frozen with chaotic bewilderment today, as a series of crimes and murders were committed, non—stop. Authorities had never struggled more with a criminal than the one today, as the thief stole priceless jewels and money from banks; not to mention that any guards who might have been in their way were found dead, stabbed or shot—'"

"STOP!"

William paused in his speech and gave her a thin smile that was empty of any true mirth.

"I'm assuming you've heard enough, for the time being…"

Amelia nodded, her expression still one of fear and loathing.

"Good…may I come in now? As I mentioned earlier, a friend of mine recently learned of your presence here in Gotham City, and requires your specific…err, professional talents to assist him in a plan of his…otherwise, should you decline, I may have to—unpleasantly—reveal your little identity…"

Amelia pursed her lips in rage at the mere suggestion of blackmail, but allowed him to enter, her face tight.

"Now that that's settled, we can get down to business. "

Raven-

Morning floated in that day on evanescent hued wings of pearly white and flushed rose, giving in, later on, to an overcast atmosphere that mumbled and hinted at more rainstorms. The worker's in Jump City barely noticed the threatening horizon, too occupied in their task of carrying building materials this way and that; fat company owners shuffled different pages of blueprints and frowned at them as they revised their plans over a cup of coffee and a donut; muscular men cleared debris out of the way, grunting with their efforts, while water was pumped out of the city as fast as possible. In fact, the only pair of eyes transfixed upon the sky were those of a young girl's, who gazed at the clouds as if they were the only thing that mattered on Earth—she was abstract looking, yet slender, her form draped in a black leotard and a blue cloak that billowed in the relentless gusts that swept the broken city. She appeared somewhat fatigued, and every now and then, a pale hand clutched at her stomach, trying to soothe a pain so that she could breathe easier…

Omens again? Raven wondered to herself, grimacing as her scars ached once more.

Perhaps.

Perhaps not. Even she could never be sure, despite her precognitive abilities. Raven gave one last small wince, before turning to view a pair of construction men clumsily hauling away part of the remains of the Tower; one of them slipped on a rock, slick with water, and the metal beams crashed out of a worker's grasp and clanged to the ground, the sound ringing in the Goth girl's ears.

"Hey!" She snapped, and he turned to face her, embarrassed.

"Be gentle with that, would you!"

The other man shrugged in confusion.

"Why? This is just old junk now, anyway. It doesn't matter, does it?"

Steel frames and polished windows glinted in the sunlight, burning her pupils and making them dilate. Though it was a massive structure, and shaped in the uncommon form of a 'T,' she couldn't help but smile alongside her new team members; just the sight of it filled her with an immeasurable sense of pride. A place to call home…not just a temporary shelter to escape the prying gaze of her father back in Azarath…just home.

"No," Raven whispered, thinking it through miserably. "I guess it doesn't. Throw it in the pile with the scrap metal."

They nodded and set off to obey her orders. The demoness watched them go, wishing she felt as strong as her command had sounded.

Don't be ridiculous and mope around! the no-nonsense side of her argued. Everything changes!

So it does, the Titan agreed with a heavy heart and a sigh.

But it shouldn't have to be like this.

Fallen buildings, collapsed roofs, sewers overflowing—their muck streaming into the flooded streets…silence, crushed bricks, rotting wood…the reek of doom and foulness wafting to her nose and making her gag mentally…bodies brought forth by some of the workers, who carried the corpses like they might a sleeping child…all of the dead wide—eyed and stricken by their desperate fright.

Never like this.

Cyborg-

"Talk about a mess," the humanoid admitted as he looked about the place—and for once, he wasn't referring to himself. When Titans Tower had been wiped out, so had all of its resources—technology, criminal records, personal information…

If the police and other heroes weren't on their side, helping them out, it would probably take a century just to sort everything out; none of the five had time for it anyway, aside from him. Rae, BB, and Star were all out, assessing the damage toll.

Poor Starfire.

The young alien girl was taking Robin's absence badly; the last time he'd seen her—somewhere before sunrise—she'd been a wreck: Eyes bloodshot from the combination of crying and lack of sleep, her hair tangled and matted, shivering violently even though it hadn't been that chilly.

Cyborg paused in the middle of his search of the half flooded island, thinking hard while sea water swirled around his ankles.

Robin, do you know what you're doing to her? To us?

A book with an ancient looking cover was at his feet, and the young man picked up, skimming through the pages of papyrus; much to his surprise, it was still intact, its ink dry and only a few parts were slightly soggy.

"Must be one of Raven's spell books," he concluded, and put it in a small pile with everything else he'd been able to salvage. As Cyborg shoved away a gigantic heap of rusting metal and windows, he couldn't help wondering which one of the four of them had the most difficult job? Sure, it was difficult to have to look over every section of the city that was once their beloved home and try to figure where to start rebuilding…but he had to be assigned to the Tower…

All our possessions, all our keepsakes, our memories: washed away in the waves…and I have to be the one to report what made it and what didn't.

A familiar ringing passed through the air, and Cyborg took out his communicator to answer Beast Boy, who looked…disturbed?

"'Sup B?"

"Where's Raven?" The changeling blurted, appearing impatiently nervous.

"And it's nice to see you too," Cy responded sarcastically. "Tell me, Beast Boy, would it kill you to—"

"Shut up!" The green teenager growled, and Cyborg fell silent in surprise.

"Now, seriously, where's Rae at? I need to know if she's busy or not, so she can come and take a look at this."

"Take a look at what?" Cyborg couldn't help himself; the curiosity of it all was just too much.

The other boy took a deep breath while the half human, half machine watched over the screen, before saying slowly:

"I think I found what's left of Holocaust. I think Rae might want to take a look at it, though."

"Why?"

"Because whatever the dude was…I don't think it was human."

Beast Boy-

The changeling shifted his weight from foot to foot as his Goth friend descended upon the scene, her gaze narrowed and steely as she landed on the beach beside him, feet barely touching the sand.

"You found Holocaust?"

Beast Boy nodded and motioned for her to follow him with his good arm, as they treaded along the seashore—one gliding, one limping and swinging on crutches—steadily making their way to the jagged line of cliffs before them. The transformer felt slightly uneasy as the pair approached the area where he'd found the remains; even though Holocaust had been especially cruel and uncaring, he'd still assumed that the villain had just been human.

Now…

If Raven could identify him as something else, some other sort of creature…

"Here he is."

Raven came to a standstill and stared, long and hard at the corpse. It had rotted rather fast, truth be told, which Beast Boy found really weird; the gaping hole that was its mouth was opened wide in what could have been a scream, and its fingers were curled, as if it was clawing at something. Green and onyx flesh had scabbed and blistered, and the sockets where orange had once glowed fearfully were empty.

"I'm guessing that he must have been in extreme pain," the changeling ventured cautiously, as Raven knelt down and probed the body with her powers.

"Duh."

"And…I guessed that by the look of his anatomy, he's not a human being…"

Raven glanced over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

"You studied anatomy?"

"Well…I've looked at a lot of the pictures in those big heavy books on the body, and I dissected a frog in grade school…"

The demoness rolled her eyes and turned back to examining their dead enemy.

"Do you know what he is?" Beast Boy asked hopefully, after a few more minutes had passed.

"Yeah," She grumbled thoughtfully. "He was a demon, like myself."

Beast Boy heard himself gasp, and his jaw dropped open.

"What—!"

"Uh—huh. But Holocaust must be a demon from somewhere else other than Azarath…"

Raven frowned briefly, as if puzzling over this, and then shook her head, dismissing any ideas that had came to her mind.

"And, um…he must have disintegrated part way in the wave attacks, because he leaned more towards fire abilities…"

"How does water affect him like that?" The changeling demanded interestedly, only faintly aware of how immature he sounded. Raven—like a patient adult explaining to a rather stupid child that standing underneath a tree during a lightening storm will kill you—gave a little sigh.

"Do you know about the concept of yin and yang?"

"Erm…"

"The circle with black and white swirls, and little dots of the opposite colors on them," The Goth demon muttered in exasperation, pained by having to revert to minor vocabulary.

"Oh yeah—"

"Moving on," She announced, cutting him off. "Holocaust was a fire demon; water destroys fire hands-down. When Slade's little tsunami hit Jump, he must have used Holocaust to trigger the waves, murdering him in the process…"

She surveyed the corpse serenely, and gave a dry laugh under her breath.

"Guess neither of them work well with partners…oh well. It doesn't matter anymore, now."

Raven stood and straightened her hunched spine, massaging her stomach.

"Something wrong?"

"Just my scars…no big deal."

The girl started to let shadows envelope her, preparing to teleport herself back to her evaluation site in the city, when Beast Boy suddenly grabbed her shoulder as a thought occurred to him.

"Hey, Rae! What am I going to do with him? I can't leave him here, can I?"

Raven blinked, her eyes turning to dark ice crystals as her view swept over the dead body one last time.

"Make sure it gets burned with the rest of the trash later tonight."

She disappeared, and the changeling, shrugging as best as he could, pulled out a walkie-talkie to contact the construction workers.
"Smith and Wright? I found some extra junk down on the beach, and I've got orders to get it burned with the garbage heaps at midnight…"

As they would soon learn, it would become a fatal mistake on their part.

To be Continued…

Rebel: Yeah, I suck. This might have been bigger, except that I got lazy and since I don't have much homework tonight, I'm using this time to relax before the weekend. This was a boring chapter…sorry 'bout that. Next chappie, you'll see some of what Slade's up to, what he needs Amelia for…ah yes, and you'll also get to see Robin! Or Richard…or Dick…or whoever he is…

By the way—Dlsky: I got your challenge email. I haven't responded quite yet—I'm just trying to figure out if I've got time; but I think it'll work out! I expect you'll be hearing from me soon…

Later:

Rebel