Soon, a convergence of folks, some with super-human powers, some equipped with nothing more than their own physically honed skills, and some who rely on technology to imbue them with power, was assembled in the med-lab on the 78th floor of the S.T.A.R. building. The awe in the room was overt, like that of a group of students on their first field trip to the planetarium, wide-eyed and marveling. Lab technicians in white smocks worked arduously before the casement cylinder in which a new body floated, void of mind and memory. They could just barely see it's curly blonde hair slowly flailing within the fluidic substance.
Kole stepped up to the tank and pressed her palms on the cold glass. Her face was so close that her breath fogged a circle between her hands. "That's Joey in there," she whispered. Troia and Starfire approached and flanked Kole. There was joy in the girls' eyes, and a welling of tears in the alien princess'.
Wilson, arms bound behind him by crystal handcuffs, advanced toward the tank. He shouldered Troia and inquired, "So, where's the witch?"
"Raven will be here when she's good and ready," barged the Flash who had instantly moved from the rear of the lab to within personal-space invading distance to Deathstroke. But despite his chivalrous show, Wally was starting to wonder the same thing. He knew this whole event was tearing Frances up from the inside, and he knew the sooner it happened, the better.
On cue, the glow, which heralded the arrival of that which was Raven, began to engulf the lab. Lab techs hid their eyes. Titans squinted. Deathstroke's brow furrowed. And then she was there, golden, glorious.
"Bring me Frances Kane," spoke Raven plainly.