Someplace in Ohio, in a wide-open field, a group of costumed folks were waging a miniature war and were going about the battle as if jumping through systematic hoops. Starbolts were fired, lasers directed, fists connected, and gem walls built. In a clearing, Nightwing worked an efficient routine of thrusts, kicks and elbow jabs, while the mercenary known as Deathstroke the Terminator plainly kept time. Watching it was like watching a well-choreographed Bruce Lee flick. Nearby, the strapping guy in the red uniform who called himself the Disruptor was aiming his palms at Cyborg, sending off invisible waves of electromagnetic energy, sapping Cyborg's neural commands; before long, though, he found his gloves, the power source of his disrupting ability, encased in crystal. A sucker punch from behind took him down for the count. And all the while, the strange, chalk-faced girl with vivid emerald hair stood laughing, intermittently doubling over in hilarity at the fiasco unfolding before her.

"Shut up, you clown!" shrieked Starfire as a precision starbolt kicked up a chunk of dirt into the hysterical girl's face. The girl fell flat on her bottom and wiped frantically at her eyes, spitting soil from her mouth. Starfire landed on the ground next to the jester girl and stood stoically, waiting for the slightest hint of another mocking giggle so she could stop using starbolts and start using Tamaranean fists. And then she noticed Kole.

"X'Hal," whispered Starfire, dumbfounded. "Kole?" she inquired with a mutter.

Kole turned to face the gold-skinned alien and felt a nostalgic pang in her gut. "Kory," she said as she began toward Starfire. However, Starfire made the first instinctive move and swooped over to collect Kole in her arms; the two girls hugged in midair amidst a corona created by Starfire's flame trail. "You're alive!" sang Starfire, spinning in an emotional frenzy. She laughed fervently, overjoyed to hold her friend's warm body so close.

Kole, too, was jubilant, but she was trying not to lose sight of the battle raging below them. "Kory, how did you find us?" she asked, hoping to break her sensitive teammate's reverie so as to get back and help the others.

"Raven guided me here, but I never expected this! I never expected you!" resounded Starfire, recollecting herself.

"How repulsively touching," scoffed Deathstroke as he landed a critical blow to Nightwing's Adam's apple, catapulting the darkly clad hero to the grass. Almost in the same movement, the Terminator's body twisted as he whipped out a collapsible pole arm and took aim at the hugging airborne twosome. Kole reacted almost as quickly and, by pushing it with her mind, wrapped Deathstroke's weapon (and, consequently, his right arm) in an orb of heavy gemstone. As the weight pulled the villain off balance, Nightwing had gotten up and capitalized on Deathstroke's misfortune; he didn't hold back when connecting the heel of his left boot with the Terminator's jaw. If the villain's face hadn't been completely covered by his sinister mask, surely a stream of bloody saliva would've spurted forth. The Terminator landed hard, and the cumbersome mass of crystal on his arm cracked as it hit the earth. Unfortunately for the mercenary, he was weaponless and surrounded by Nightwing, Starfire, Cyborg and Kole.

A few yards away, the Disruptor emphatically shouted, "This wasn't my idea," as he shook his head from the blow he sustained, "I swear it! I had other plans, I just wanted..."

"Belden, shut yer lousy trap," retorted Cyborg with a contemptuous snarl. The Disruptor knew this wasn't the best time to start a verbal mêlée, so he egregiously complied with the robotic hero.

Around the same time as Deathstroke was being defeated by teamwork, Troia and Beast Boy had both started to awaken, each a little fuzzy but neither worse for the wear. Beast Boy stood and reached a hand to Troia who graciously accepted the assist. They walked over to the group of Titans surrounding the villain who downed the T-Jet. Troia recognized the Disruptor and, unmistakably, the Terminator, but the girl in the jester-like jumpsuit with the painted face was unknown, yet strangely familiar.

"Who's the clown?" bubblegum-covered-Troia quizzed Deathstroke as Kole mentally reinforced the cracked crystal on his arm.

Beast Boy, tugging at the gum in his own hair, chimed in, "She calls herself the Harlequin and she claims to have been a member of the Titans." In mid-sentence, he morphed into a green bull, his leathery tail whipping to and fro. In a muffled, guttural intonation, he continued, "But all she really is is a big fat party crasher."

Nightwing studied the Harlequin's painted face; chalk white skin and blood red lips offset by curly jade green hair. She looked like a female version of the Joker, a creature he didn't like very much. After visually scanning the jester-girl's costume and belt, Nightwing silently nodded, directing Troia to assist the Harlequin to her feet and immobilize her. As the Harlequin stood, chuckling nervously, Troia took the girl's right wrist and twisted her arm behind her back, ensuring no escape. Nightwing stated, "Careful, Donna, she has gadgets."

"Ouch!" reacted the Harlequin with a louder anxious laugh, "go easy, Wonder-Chick, we're old friends, remember?"

Troia furrowed her brow as bull-Gar said, "See? Toldja, she's whacked."

Nightwing bent to one knee and leaned in toward the Terminator. He reached over and pulled off Deathstroke's mask, revealing the face of Slade Wilson, constant thorn in his side. A military crew cut resided above an aged yet rugged face. A silken patch covered one eye, and a devilish goatee adorned his chin. His lower lip was bleeding. He leaned in toward Nightwing so their faces were mere inches apart; he grinned and whispered, "You kids have no sense of humor."

Nightwing recoiled, Cyborg grumbled, and bull-Gar scraped his forward hoof in an agitated movement, breathing steam from his snout. Nightwing, still in command, stood and said, "I fail to see the humor in shooting our jet out of the sky, Wilson."

"I needed to get your attention, Grayson," responded the mercenary as Nightwing cautiously shot a look at the Disruptor who, listening intently, had just overheard the hero's secret surname; the Disruptor quickly shifted his own eyes to the ground. The Terminator continued, "and now that I have it, in more ways than one, I believe we need to discuss the small matter of your current mission."

Cyborg and Starfire tensely made eye contact, waiting for whatever tricks the Terminator may have been planning. Kole quietly stepped behind Troia's right shoulder and whispered, "I think he knows, Donna."

"Yes, my dear resurrected crystal spinner, I am well aware that my son is alive, albeit without any physical form to call his own," Deathstroke said casually, "and if you people plan to do anything about helping him, or your friend Frances Kane, you'll want me and my associates along on the journey."

"And why should we believe, let alone trust, you, Wilson?" queried Nightwing, more agitated now than before, "If memory serves me right, it was your sword that killed Joey in the first place. What makes you think you're anywhere near the front of the list of people he wants to see when and if he opens his eyes again?"

Deathstroke snickered. "I am a man of many talents with even more connections, Grayson. Do you think for a minute I haven't been planning for this happenstance since the moment I impaled my son? Don't you think that I knew he had stepped out of his body and into one of your Azarath-possessed selves in the pursuit of survival? Can't you believe that I have scientists and physicians on my payroll who have already cloned Joey's body from cell samples I have always had in my possession?"

Cyborg snarled, "You sick bastard."

"Vic!" cautioned Nightwing. Kole stepped forward and caressed Deathstroke's cheek, her small, soft hands moving gently on his stubbly, worn face. Images flooded her mind. Names, faces, scenarios, lights, movements… Adelaide kneeling in her son's blood as he gasped for air while his throat had been slit... Grant literally melting before Slade's eyes from the experimental drugs given to him by the H.I.V.E… Joey's face distorted by the evil that had possessed him, fighting to be free yet fighting his father to the death... Countless sleep-deprived nights for Slade Wilson as he battled the torture of murdering his own son. Kole removed her hand and turned to face the Titans, tears falling from her crystal eyes.

"He's telling the truth, Victor," Kole cried, "he only means to help us bring Joey back."

Deathstroke stood. "Now, if you'll allow me to redeem my actions and prove that, for the time being, I only want to help, I offer you repayment for damages incurred." With his middle finger, he pressed a tiny receiver on his left glove and behind them the sound of engines roared to life.

Instinctively, Nightwing and Troia each grabbed one of the Terminator's arms, hoping to stop whatever it was he had just started. But Kole intervened, shouting, "Nightwing, it's okay, believe me!"

At that moment, out of a wooded area rose a sleek, pale blue metallic hovercraft, embellished with the Titans' T-logo on the side near the door hatch and on the underside of both wings. It lingered in the air some 40 feet above them, and soon it drifted lightly to the ground yards away from where they stood. All the while, no one said a word.

Then the terminator spoke. "Your old T-Jet was outdated and ready for the scrap heap, anyway. Consider this my gift to you for helping me resurrect my son." Each Titan looked at the Terminator with doubt, as he continued, "Feel free to inspect it for sabotage if you wish, but you have my word of honor that all is on the up and up."

Cyborg was already on his way toward the craft so he could plug into the wiring systems and check things out.

Nightwing, though impressed, still wasn't completely convinced. "You staged this whole thing to get our attention and recycle our transportation, Wilson. So why are the Disruptor and the Joker girl here with you?"

"Belden wants to redeem himself for his former days of crime and join your little troupe, and the Harlequin was cooperative enough to get me inside information that was necessary to make this theatrical event happen. Even as we speak, I have clean-up crews carting away the remains of your old jet, and have no fear, the debris landed in a vacant area. No one was injured in the crash, nor was any property damaged," stated Deathstroke. He smiled and offered forward his crystal covered right hand to Nightwing and asked, "So, do we have an agreement?"