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Leighville, VA. 1408 Hours, 16 July 2008
"You need to focus, Alyx."
"And what, exactly, do you think I'm doing?" retorted the young girl, verdant eyes looking up through stray tangles of dark bangs.
"Alyx, watch your tone," her mother ordered though she flinched and looked away when the child's glare snapped towards her. The girl bit her lip and focused on the plain cube of wood that had been set on the table in front of her, refusing to acknowledge the feeling of regret that coiled in her gut. In the leather crouch across from her was the specialist her mother had hired who observed her stoically from behind his wire-framed spectacles, golden pen poised over his notepad, ready to unleash a rapid fire scrawl at the slightest development.
"Visualize it, Alyx," he advised. "Focus on the box and now imagine all of it flowing into it. Then, once it's all in there, put a lock on it. Close it tight. Tie it down. Secure it."
"I'm. Trying," she snarled and the man shifted in his seat uneasily. Focusing on the box, she drew in a shaky breath, lifting her thin shoulders with her inhale that drooped as she released it. Her brow furrowed deeper as continued her steady breathing though they were becoming shorter, more ragged before she released an enraged shout and knocked the cube off the table, sending it crashing into the wall.
"This is impossible!" she ranted as she pressed her palms to her forehead. "How-How am I supposed to - it-it - I can't just -"
"Calm down, Alyx. You need to get control of yoursel-"
"I AM IN CONTROL!" she thundered at the increasingly nervous man who shuddered at her roar before clamping his eyes shut. In the other seat, her mom whimpered in terror, ducking her head and drawing her legs into her body and Alyx's rage evaporated. Her breathing eased and she took a step forward, reaching towards the prim woman, "Mama . . ."
Her hand was smacked away with a strangled yelp and she met a wild gaze filled with fear, nostrils flaring as she pressed back into the seat. She dropped her hand as her eyes began to burn, tears threatening to fall from them as her mother came back to her senses and regret flooded her features. Scooting forward, she extended a hand towards her daughter, an apology on her lips, but Alyx bolted, bounding over the back of the couch and charging the door, throwing it open to slam it behind her. Standing up to go after her, she was stopped by a hand catching her wrist.
"Forgive me, Mrs. Madan, but I -"
"It's Ms. Chen now," she corrected automatically.
"Yes. Of course. Forgive me. I think it best that, for now, you give your daughter some space."
"She -"
"She's young. Control will come with time. I promise."
As her mother conversed with the silver-haired man, her young daughter huddled on a bench in the desolate hall, arms wrapped about her legs as she hugged them to her chest. Tears brimmed in her eyes before she clenched her lids shut in an attempt to dash them. She sniffled, lifting her face from where it nestled against her legs to drag her hand under her nose and then sink back into her cramped position. Her gaze fell upon the wall and she stared at it with an intensity that seemed ready to burrow holes into the cinderblocks painted a soft yellow. Focused upon the innocent wall, she did not notice the second presence that joined her upon the bench until he spoke.
"Hey. What're you doing out here?"
Her eyes snapped towards a small boy whose limbs looked as though they had been stretched upon a rack, gangly and elongated, particularly in comparison to his short torso. He crouched on the bench, a bald chimpanzee in a red shirt and tan cargo pants, and regarded her with mismatched eyes, tilting his head curiously. In no mood for company, she glowered at him before swiveling forward again and mumbling.
"None of your business."
"Oh . . . What's your name? I'm Henry."
"Bite me."
"That's a funny name."
Dropping her legs, she turned towards him and roared, "Leave. Me. ALONE!"
He pressed down against the bench, cowering below her, and then simply blinked and noted, "Wow. You're really grumpy. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed? How do they know which side is the wrong side of the bed?"
She frowned as she leaned back, "You're not . . . scared?"
"Sure I am," he chirped before lifting up his fingers and enumerating them. "Of clowns, spiders, hot air balloons, caribou, tur-"
"No," she retorted. "I meant, you . . . you're not scared of me?
"Ummm . . . should I be?"
"Everybody else is," she grumbled.
"Why?"
"'Cause they're dumb."
"Oh . . . Who's they?"
She glanced towards him, frowning slightly and noted, "You're kinda dumb, too."
"I talk just fine. Most of the time," he said, breaking into a warbling cackle. Alyx's lips began to twitch and she shook her head at his strange laugh, releasing a small laugh, a crack in her anger, as he suddenly lost balance and tumbled from the bench. He sprawled across the floor and rolled onto his back, limbs splayed out upon the linoleum that he began to scoot along, looking up at her.
"What are you doing down there?" she demanded.
"Getting new perspective."
"On what?"
"Doohickeys. Thingamajigs. Whatchamacallits."
"Descriptive."
"Yeppers! Ms. Ginaldi always says - arrghh!"
Alyx started as Henry clutched at his head, curling into a fetal position as his thin fingers fisted in his wispy hair. Other cries echoed from behind closed doors, but she was focused on the lanky child who writhed upon the floor and she knelt at his side, hands hovering frightfully over his frame, unsure of what to do. His eyes snapped open, seeming to bulge out of his head as he released another wail that jolted her into action and she lifted her head and screamed.
"HELP! Somebody help him!"
There was no response beyond the shattering of glass and a soft whimpering from one of the nearby rooms and she looked at him, biting at her bottom lip before vaulting over him. Her body collided with the door before her hand could turn the knob and she bashed it open to find another office, much like the one she had abandoned. A portly woman with frizzled hair crouched behind her couch, muttering to herself and scribbling furiously in a notebook, her pen stabbing through the paper in her fervor. At the slim girl's entrance, the elder woman unleashed a shriek and Alyx ducked the notepad hurled at her head with familiar ease.
"Please, we need your help!" she begged, kneeling beside the woman and tugging desperately on her sleeve. The woman curled into a ball and shook her head as she sobbed, refusing to look at the young girl who stood and dashed from the room. She slid across the slick linoleum and she grabbed the arm of the bench for support as her knees crashed against the floor but she took no notice as she peered at the stammering boy who scrawled incomprehensibly upon the floor with one hand and ripped out chunks of hair with the other.
"Stop. Please, please stop," she urged, shaking him in an attempt to stir him from the hysteria that gripped him. Tears brimmed in her eyes before running down her pale cheeks in rivulets and her words were twisted by an abrupt sob as she tried to recall his name, "I-I-I'm sorry, He-Herman? Oh, god. I don't know how to stop it . . . I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry . . ."
She paused in her tumbling apologies as she remembered a gentle tune that had drifted through the eves of her younger years. Her mother had told her it was an old song, from before her family had come to America, and it had quelled any nightmares that haunted her sleep or any sorrows that plagued her waking hours. However, she had not heard the song in years, her parents too consumed by their own terrors to chase away her own. Reaching back into her memories, she shakily murmured, "The moon is bright, the . . . the . . . the wind is quiet . . ."
His spastic jerks and throws were growing weaker and his hands had stilled though still remained poised, ready to continue with their previous actions. The jittery gaze tried to focus on her before flashing elsewhere, distracted by phantoms dancing before his eyes. He continued to open and close his lips in silent utterances, frail whispers beyond her hearing as she continued the lullaby.
"The tree leaves hang over-over the window . . . my little baby, go to sleep quickly; sleep, dreaming sweet dreams . . ."
Hesitantly, she brushed the hair hanging in his eyes before carefully removing his hand. She floundered for a moment, struggling to remember further words before she simply began the song anew, urging serenity upon the slowly calming youth. The howls and wails from the rooms along the hall began to subside and her shoulders sagged as she released a tired sigh, closing her eyes in a rare moment of relief.
"Hey."
Her eyes blinked open to meet the mismatched gaze that stared up at her curiously before small fingers reached up to brush against her cheek, causing her to flush. He studied the tear captured on his finger with a strangely serious expression before his gaze returned to her.
"Why're you crying?"
"I'm not, stupid. You were kicking about and you hit me on the nose. Made my eyes water," she snapped, switching to anger to cover the fear and sorrow as she wiped away the budding tears with her arm.
"What happened?" he asked, tilting his head.
"You don't remember?" she asked incredulously.
"I remember that instances of uncontrollable crying and other such displays are a symptom of the psuedobulbar affect," he reported matter-of-factly, as though reciting something that he had heard or read, and she furrowed her brow at him.
"You talk smart, but I still think you're kinda dumb," she accused suspiciously and he beamed up at her in response.
"I told you; I talk just fine. Maybe you're the one with the problem if you can't hear me," he suggested and she rolled her eyes before chuckling and shaking her head. Her mirth built, still riding on the high emotions she had just experienced and she soon broke into full laughter that he joined in on as men and women in the rooms began to stir.
Swineford National Bank, Jump City. 0858 Hours, 10 AUGUST 2014
Years later and miles away, a pale girl slid through the automatic doors into the brightly lit lobby of a small bank, populated by its faithful customers who refused the services of a larger institution. Quaint and secluded, it was safe from the typical super villain or unpowered bank robber and several of its patrons favored it for that very reason. A single, aging security guard remained on the premises, collecting a paycheck as he spent the days reading a newspaper. Business was usually slow, but a short line had formed before the two teller windows that were open and nobody seemed in a hurry to depart as they all chatted amicably.
The stranger regarded the group hesitantly for a moment before sidling to the end of the line. A grey billed cap was pulled down tight upon her head, obscuring a straight view of her face, and she hunched her shoulders in an olive green jacket. Pausing in his consideration of the crossword puzzle, the guard warily eyed the girl with growing unease though quickly looked away when her shaded glance swung towards him. Ahead of her, the woman in line gave a small shiver, goosebumps erupting along her skin as her baby squirmed and whined in his stroller, his nap suddenly turning fitful. Throughout the room, a chill spread and familiar faces turned threatening as customers hurriedly completed their transactions.
The line shrank faster than it ever had and the patrons hurried to conclude their business as the girl approached the counter. Quickly devising an excuse, one of the tellers placed a placard in the window and ducked into the backroom, leaving a plump woman with the stranger. She glared after her colleague before affixing a shaky smile to her face as the dark-haired girl stopped in front of her.
"And what can I help you with today, young lady?" she said as brightly as she could manage.
"You can't help me," she answered, keeping her gaze down as a man in a business suit approached the door and frowned in surprise when it did not open. "Nobody can."
The woman shuddered at a sudden chill that swept through her but forged ahead, "W-w-well, I'm sorry, dear, but then why d-did you come in here?"
"Had to," she answered as others joined the man at the door, growing increasingly frantic as it refused to open. A terrible dread possessed them and they hammered against the bulletproof glass as the girl continued, "I had to do something."
She lifted her dark green eyes as the doors suddenly opened and a howling roared through the minds of the patrons and tellers, driving them to the floor. Gazing at the fallen woman who gasped and twitched upon the floor, she whispered, "I'm sorry."
Titan Tower. 0647 Hours, 10 AUGUST 2014
Raven sat upon the roof of her home, legs folded and hands propped upon her knees as she admired the rising sun that painted the sky and its clouds a golden hue. She would assume her meditation shortly, but for now, she allowed herself the moment to enjoy the scene, drawing in a deep breath at the wind that rushed over her as the sun began to heat the earth. Far below, she heard the crash of the waves upon their shore, stirred to action by the zephyr that persisted for several seconds more before settling. There was a rare peace that Raven luxuriated in, briefly divorced from the everyday worries that typically plagued her as she felt her friends and teammates stir in the Tower beneath her, their emotions brightening as they joined the waking world once again.
Unsurprisingly, Robin was the first to awaken, like clockwork, and she could sense his tender caution beyond the range of his shields as she imagined him rising from bed, permitting Starfire her sleep. The alien was a continual beacon of joy that was not dimmed by her slumber and the sorceress was continually amazed that a single person could produce such a large emotional signature. After a moment, Robin transitioned to the gym where he began his rigorous morning workout, strangely pleased by the exercise program that would have left most adults breathless and on the verge of collapse. Cyborg came online, accompanied by his morning surliness that he immediately sought to remedy with a journey to the kitchen.
Although she suspected that he was sleeping, Raven could not determine Beast Boy's present state, his presence constantly guarded by the mental barrier that had grown more fortified since their encounter in the infirmary. All but the most apparent emotions, ones that she did not require her powers to determine when in his presence, were hidden and guarded behind walls that seemed to grow thicker with her every brush against them. However, he had held back from divulging her secret to their friends as far as she could tell. Before she could allow herself to be pulled into such quandaries, she remembered her purpose for seeking out the solitude of the roof in the first place and turned her back on the rising sun that would have shone through her eyelids. They closed as she raised her hands, picking up her mantra as she sought the path to tranquility.
"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos . . . Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos . . ."
The words, while not a necessity to her ritual as they had once been, were certainly helpful, giving her a point to focus upon. Their steady repetition was reliable, consistent, as they took her from a mercurial world with its frantic pace that raced towards some unknowable end. It seemed that before a new alteration could be adjusted to, it was already shifting into something else without any bearing on what it had just been. She missed the steady, assured motions of her home, the silent contemplation of the monks who had raised her over the cacophony of her new world of residence. Even with the greater control over her powers she had gained since her father's defeat, her meditation had become a means of escape from her hectic environment, one of the few holdovers from her childhood.
After an hour, her eyes opened once again and she rose, floating through a dark portal that transported her to the main room of the Tower where her friends had gathered. She inhaled the savory scent of bacon as she grabbed the plate and mug that Cyborg held towards her without breaking from his debate with the changeling. Both had long since accepted that neither was going to change his particular eating patterns, but the tradition persisted, now mostly as a performance for their teammates laced with ludicrous exchanges populated by quips and surprisingly swift repartee. At least until it devolved into a food fight after which Raven and the remainder of team usually abandoned the scene.
This particular battle ended when Beast Boy distracted his regular partner-in-crime from his sausages upon the stove long enough for smoke to begin to coil from them. As Cyborg tried to save his delectable fare, seemingly adopting the mannerisms of a doctor desperate to bring back a patient, the green boy strutted to the table with his plate, incredibly pleased with his victory. He slid into a spot on the booth beside Raven and after coating his grapefruit with a layer of sugar, tucked into his meal without sparing a glance to the girl at his side.
That had been his tactic for the last several days. He didn't go out of his way to avoid her, and when prompted, he paid her the common courtesies, but had otherwise ceased all forms of communication with her. Jokes no longer fell upon her head like rain in a torrential downpour, she no longer had to refuse requests to join in video games or movies, and she read her books without intrusion. Initially, she had been rather pleased with the situation, but that had since passed as something hollow worked its way inside her. There was a gap within her, some masochistic yearning that missed the verbal deluge he often presented her with. It was beginning to infuriate her for reasons she didn't feel like fully recognizing, and she had resolved that she would clear the air between them before the day was out.
Unfortunately, he seemed to sense her intent and after scarfing down his breakfast at a decidedly unhealthy rate, he disappeared from the room. She scowled as she downed her tea, finishing it quicker than she would have liked before taking her utensils to the sink and rinsing them. Looking back to the others, she announced, "I'm going to my room."
Starfire frowned and lifted from the table, flying over Robin's head to regard her friend with concern, "But, Raven, you and I are to journey to the mall of shopping today and purchase many pretty accessories and -"
"It's not even nine yet, Starfire. Give me a few hours to mentally prepare myself for the excursion," she interjected. She cursed herself, not literally, for failing to recall the plans Starfire had laid when she had been pondering over Beast Boy's distance the other day. Fortunately, the answer pacified the golden girl who beamed and nodded in agreement.
"May I join you in your attempt to placate your excitement?"
"I would prefer the solitude," she returned. "I'll find you later."
Before anymore protests could be offered, Raven disappeared into a dark portal that opened beneath her feet. Instead of transporting her to her room as she had said, she instead emerged before Beast Boy's door where she wrapped her knuckles against the lettering of his name.
"Beast Boy, we need to talk," she called. There was no response and she leaned closer, listening but finding none of the usual raucous roars that emerged from it. Her gaze narrowed as she opened a dark passage in the door and stepped through, finding the room deserted as she had suspected. At some point, the odor of the room had finally grown too much for his increasingly sensitive olfactory senses and he had cleared away the mess that had once inhabited it. The bunk bed persisted though the lower one was currently pushed into a couch, but Beast Boy's presence was missing.
Returning to the hallway, she furrowed her brow and considered her dilemma before teleporting herself to her room. It was dim, even after she turned the lights on, and it hadn't changed greatly since her time with the Titans beyond the perpetually growing collection of books. She had been forced to convert more wall space into book shelves and even the latest addition was on its last shelf while there wasn't much more space remaining. Ancient scrolls were collected in slotted shelves, but they were not as in great a danger of imminent overflow.
Clearing some of the books from her circular bed and sending them into the spaces she had retrieved them from, she sat upon the edge and folded her legs beneath her. Closing her eyes, she focused inward and disconnected her astral self from her physical, floating outside her body. The world about her became blurry and faded, like an old photograph attempting to capture a sudden burst of action even when nothing moved. She watched her body a moment, assuring the even rise and fall of her chest that signified continued bodily functions before departing.
While many of her natural senses were diminished, if not outright inoperable, in her astral state, it enhanced her empathy. She was nearly blinded by the flare of Starfire's undiscriminating love for all, and it took a moment for her to adjust to it. Her other friends were apparent, Cyborg's rage at his condition buried under his incredible willpower. It was easier to gauge Robin now, no longer reliant upon his drowsiness to peer at his emotions though they remained guarded and not fully apparent. Compassion fueled his quest for heroism, but as with everything, it was not alone. There was a yearning, a hidden eagerness to please the father figure he had left on the other side of the continent. Beyond their present states, she could see the remnants of their passage, emotions lingering upon their passage and the objects that they had touched.
Beast Boy had made his way to the pool on the lower floor of the Tower and he jetted through the water, moving at a rate that assured her wasn't his human form. Most of his emotions remained bottled, but there was a curious mix of fear and hope that she could detect but not determine the source of. Despite having completed her intention of finding him, she refrained from returning to her body and wondered if now, in this empowered state, she could breach his walls. Tentatively, she reached out, testing his defenses and for a second, she thought that there was a chance of access but then there was the sudden flare of anger, meager enough to be mere annoyance, but it was enough to convince her to conduct an expeditious retreat.
She gasped, sucking in a great breath of air as her astral self collided with her body, anchoring itself once again. With a wince, she flexed her limbs that had gone stiff and groaned as she stood, stretching her shapely legs before focusing upon her task. Pulling her cloak about her, she sank into a dark portal and emerged into the muggy air of the pool room. It had been a curious inclusion in the design considering they had a beach outside their door, but Beast Boy had fought for its inclusion and used it more than any of his peers thought he would. At the moment, he was a penguin that flashed through the likely chilled water, moving with grace and speed usually absent upon the land. He seemed unaware of the intrusion and for the moment, she did not break his focus as she glided to the end of the pool, standing at the edge and waiting for him.
There was a flicker of annoyance from his mind, and he proceeded to complete several more laps before picking up speed to leap from the water, bringing with him a wave of water that Raven deflected with an irritated shield. Demonstrating greater coordination than his current form implied, Beast Boy crossed his fins over his chest and regarded the sorceress with his blank, white gaze. Raven glared down at him, setting a hand upon her hip as she frowned.
"How much longer are you going to keep sulking?" she demanded.
"Don't know," he shrugged. "Why don't you go ahead and scan my head to find out?"
She folded her arms over her chest, "You act like I've committed some great invasion of privacy, and in doing so, you seem to forget the times you've hacked our personal files."
"That's just information. I'm not reading minds or anything like that. I'm not picking around in people's thoughts or anything like that," he countered.
"But that does not make it any less of an intrusion. You share your own story sparingly, but you don't falter in accessing our own."
"That's old information! If people didn't want it known, they shouldn't have let it be recorded!" he said as he finally shifted into his human form though his fangs seemed marginally more pronounced. "That's not rooting around in a dude's head for stuff he doesn't wanna share!"
"I never 'rooted around' in anybody's head!"
"Really? So that little prod there before you came in - that wasn't you?"
"I-I - that wasn't -"
She was saved by the shriek of the siren and she was more thankful for it than she ever had been before. Beast Boy did not share her relief and his gaze was flat as he stalked towards the exit.
"To be continued," he muttered.
Swineford National Bank. 0927 Hours, 10 AUGUST 2014
The team had been summoned to one of many of Jump City's banks, albeit one of the smaller ones, but instead of the usual standoff signaled by the sirens and imposing SWAT vans, it had been guarded by a single squad car occupied by a pair of trembling officers. They had been able to provide only the most meager of information, reporting that they had received a call from a modulated voice and a hidden number, advising them to contact the team and providing them with an address. When they had arrived to investigate, they had found the place empty beyond lingering personal effects. Their attempts at delving further had quickly come to an end when both dropped, blubbering and consumed by a terrible dread that prompted them to crawl away until they were free of whatever had gripped them.
Without hesitation, the team had entered and Raven's first breath was filled with fear. Not from her teammates, but a deeper source within the quaint business, beneath the crooning of the music projected from the speakers in the ceiling. Apprehension colored her teammates and they suspiciously readied whatever arsenal was at their command while they regarded the seemingly deserted structure. A pocketbook's contents was scattered across the floor, a baseball cap lay abandoned at one of the teller windows. Beast Boy changed into a bloodhound, sniffing curiously at the floor and knickknacks scattered across it before growing back into his typical shape.
"There's a bunch of scents here, all fresh," he reported as Robin frowned.
"Any idea where they went?"
"They're all over the place. Too jumbled to track them. Also, I am now fairly certain that at least one of those cop dudes maybe-sorta wet himself, which, you know, isn't exactly helping me figure anything out," he shrugged.
"Hold up," Cyborg said. His limb had shifted into a dish-like device that he scanned the building with, one hand up to his mechanical ear. "I'm pickin' something up. BB, you hear anything?"
Shifting again, he dropped into the form of a fennec fox, looming ears swiveling about as he leaned forward, blank eyes narrowing in concentration. His countenance shifted in a manner not easily deciphered by humans, but Raven could sense the shiver of horror as he muttered, "Is that . . . screaming?"
"Sounds like it," Cyborg said grimly before striding forward, rounding the counter. He was followed closely by the changeling who bounded through one of the windows, noting the half-eaten sandwich lying on a wrapper before jumping down. The other Titans followed their comrades into the back room where they had stopped at the rectangular door of the vault. Cyborg was examining it and Beast Boy was sniffing furiously before looking up at their approaching friends.
"All those smells are here. Well, minus the pee one," Beast Boy said.
"There's people inside here," Cyborg added as he tested the door running his hands over it. "Fortunately, the owner's cheap and decided not to get the airtight model. Now we just need to figure out how to get them get them out of there."
A deep pain began to pulse within Raven's skull and she gave a small gasp as she pressed a hand against her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and when they opened, a ghastly figure floated before them. Fully white and softly glowing, she opened her mouth, snake-like in its width, and she unleashed an unearthly shriek that hammered furiously on Raven's eardrums, dropping her to her knees. She winced and tried to block out the noise with her hands, but the spectral wail penetrated her meager barrier and she released a whine. There was a touch upon her shoulder and the howl faded away to be replaced by more familiar voices.
"Raven! Raven! Friend, what is wrong?"
She lifted her gaze to find Starfire at her side, hand offering support as her other friends looked on in concern. The sorceress blinked as she straightened and wrapped her cloak tighter about her as she suspiciously considered their surroundings. Instinctively, she reached out with her mind, searching for any emotions to provide some explanation as to what she had seen. There was the worry broadcasted by her friends, but she sensed it for only a second before the tidal wave of fear crashed down upon her. It washed away everything else, saturating every thought, soaking every corner of her mindscape and distorting the world about her. The reassuring hand upon her shoulder became claws searching for her heart, her friend's glances contorted into malicious leers, and even their shadows flickered with sinister intent.
With a breath, she closed off her mind, forced away the fear, and finally answered, "I'm fine. But we need to get that door open and those people out. Now."
"Trust us, Raven. Cyborg and I are working as fast as we can," Robin assure her. She opened her mouth to reiterate the necessity of alacrity when there was a sudden boom as the bolts retracted and the door creaked, weighing heavily upon its hinges. The Boy Wonder smirked, "Nice timing."
"I appreciate the compliment, but, uh . . . that wasn't me," Cyborg answered as he stood, studying the door uneasily. Broken sobs emerged from within and he opened the door wider, revealing crimson streaks that painted the inside of the portal, to show the huddled crowd that had been trapped within.
Men and women gibbered in sheer terror, tears streaming down their faces as they cowered upon the floor of the small room. One sobbed brokenly, fingers, their nails and skin stripped clutching at his head and their red stain was evident on his clothes and other parts of his body. Another man paced fiercely from one wall to another, muttering desperately to himself as he performed violent gesticulations regardless of any in their path. A woman clutched at her children desperately, glancing frantically at phantom visions dancing before her eyes. Crouched in a corner was a gangly figure with a shadowed stare that shifted quickly about the room as he rapidly huffed and sucked in breaths.
"I-i-i-it's g-gotta work, gotta work . . . Gonna work. She said it'd work," he huffed frantically, hiding behind his long, bony fingers. His face contorted into an expression of rage and he slammed a fist against the boxes upon the wall. "Better work . . . rip her up, bleed . . . monsters . . ."
"Take it easy, folks. We're here to help," Cyborg assured them as he entered to lift a portly woman to her feet. Unfortunately, she reacted to his approach with a bloodcurdling shriek, backpedaling away and throwing up her arms in defense. The massive teen faltered and frowned, flashing back to times before had join the Titans when his appearance had not earned him the warmest of welcomes. Behind him, he heard Beast Boy give a short bark followed by a sound that sounded like a collision of several, inhuman vocal cords. He glanced back worriedly to see the changeling stumbling backwards, hands going to his head as he grunted softly though the sound emerged garbled through the fangs that bristled within his mouth.
"Hey, BB. You all right?"
At his friend's voice, he lifted his head to reveal milky white eyes, and unleashed a roar generally reserved for the saurian members of the animal kingdom. Cyborg took a step back as something clattered against the floor, and he glanced over to see Robin absent-mindedly pulling his hair out, shaking his head slightly but seemingly oblivious to the pain.
"That can't be right. It can't. It has to be right, but right now it's not right, right? Right. Which means it has to be left," he muttered, gaze focused on the ground as he mechanically reached up and tore away a few more dark strands. Beast Boy continued to growl and menace anybody in his vicinity, but his snapping teeth and claws never touched skin.
"Something freaky is definitely goin' on in here," murmured the large teen. He turned towards his remaining comrades and groaned, "Oh, c'mon, Star. Not you too."
The golden girl was hovering in the air, a starbolt cradled in her palms with a tenderness that would have made Silkie envious. She cooed to it lovingly, whispering sweet promises to the emerald sphere that bobbed mindlessly before her. A finger traced over its fluctuating surface before she kissed it, almost shyly and Cyborg slapped his palm against his face, wincing at the metal hand that collided with a mostly human face.
"This isn't good," he grumbled.
"I should say not," agreed the tin can floating at his side. "That red-headed floozy is stealing my boyfriend!"
"Cyborg!"
The vision of the rusty can valiantly rushing at Starfire left his head and he sucked in a deep breath as he glanced down towards a trembling Raven. As he realized that it had been her voice to pull him from his temporary delusion, though he noted with a heavy heart that his friends still seemed afflicted, the tiny sorceress pitched forward. He caught her and looked worriedly at her face, sweat beaded upon her grey skin and brow furrowed in concentration. His sensors informed him that her heart was hammering at rates far beyond the norm of the stoic girl before one of his fingers began to unravel into thread. He was abruptly yanked back into reality again, anchored by the girl in his hands, and he heard though he was underwater.
"Victor. We need to get out of this room. You need to get us out of here."
He thought he gave a nod, but he wasn't entirely certain as he lurched forward, carrying the cloak-wearing mannequin over the floor of spaghetti that was slowly flooding with Tabasco sauce. Bubbles rose from the fall of his heavy feet, drifting up towards his head where they popped in a disconnected babble.
"most th."
Vic."
Kee."
"ere."
"tor."
"p going."
"Al."
Pushing onward, he felt the world cracking and shifting as the visions bled away, leaving only the room outside the vault and Raven still clenched in his grip. He released her when he noticed the discomfort accompanying her relief and she caught herself several inches above the ground, hovering. Groaning at the pounding of his brain against his skull, like it believed itself a champion boxer, he pressed a hand to his head.
"I - that was - What just happened?"
"A psychic attack. Something attempted to drive us insane."
"'Something?' Whattaya - never mind. What about the others? They okay?" he looked past her towards the vault where their friends still suffered in the hands of the 'something' that had gripped them. Before he could retrieve them, a slender hand that was dwarfed by his powerful frame pressed against his chest, halting his advance.
"It seems to be weaker here. Your electronic components and natural resilience disrupted its effect on you, which is why I was able to pull you out. But it sapped me more than I thought it would," she stated in a detached manner but Cyborg recognized that she was understating her condition. Her face was haggard and shone with a layer of perspiration, eyes looking as though they had not seen sleep in weeks. She attempted to disguise her unsteady swaying beneath her cloak, but he could feel the intermittent pressure from the hand still upon his chest every time she caught herself. Grabbing her wrist, he guided her to the floor, leaning her back against the wall, and he grimly noticed that she was too weak to offer any protest.
"Take it easy. You're about to drop," he said, adjusting her and then standing up. Her hand caught his before he could move away again and he paused, looking back to her as she regained her wind.
"You can't go in there," she warned.
"But we can't just leave them in there!"
"If you go in there, and start to lose your mind again, I don't . . . I don't know if I could pull you out again," she admitted, her voice growing very small. It caused Cyborg to sag slightly, features painted with concentration as he considered his friends. He kept the worry from his face, unaware that Raven could feel it regardless, before he suddenly brightened and turned back towards her.
"You could use your powers and levitate them out!"
"Even if I was strong enough, the portion of my soul infused in whoever I carried would likely transmit the madness that seizes that person to me, but without my full defenses," she pointed out.
"That's fine. Already thought up a back-up plan," he smiled confidently as he lifted an arm. Carefully aiming his open hand at the redhead sweet talking her starbolt, he placed his other hand against his bicep to steady his limb before his hand and forearm fired forward. Detaching at his elbow, it shot towards his ally, and a cable tethered the limb to the rest of him. His splayed fingers missed Starfire by inches as she abruptly began to twirl about, and he held back a curse as his arm continued forth. It smashed into a wall of safety deposit boxes, tearing apart the metal and crumpling them. He gave a weak chuckle as he retracted his limb, pointedly ignoring Raven's slow clapping.
"Just need to adjust the power settin's, is all," he assured her.
"You should probably test it on Beast Boy next, just to be sure," she suggested with a touch more malice than the usual barbed comment.
Ignoring her remark, he calibrated his limb's propulsion system and launched it again, managing to catch Robin's shoulder without shattering any bones. He looked to Raven with a smug grin and she rolled her eyes before offering the conciliatory ovation that seemed, in part, mocking. Focusing on the fidgeting Boy Wonder who seemed intent on driving himself bald, Cyborg began to reel him in when there was a sudden creaking sound that gave him pause. When he heard nothing else in the interim, he continued his steady pull only to hear the creaking again, which stalled him again.
"Maybe you should invest in some oil," Raven said.
"Don't look at me," he huffed. "It's probably ghosts."
As though to punctuate his statement, the vault door slammed shut, cutting off the cable attached to the remainder of his limb. The locks shifted and slanted into place with a booming note of finality as Cyborg tried to pull the remainder of the cord free and Raven vaulted to her feet, flashing to the door. Angrily, Cyborg lifted his head and shouted at the ceiling.
"I was jokin'!"
"Are you hurt?" Raven asked, reaching out to touch the stump as he disconnected the cable, leaving it hanging from the door.
"Hurt? No. Gettin' a little bit annoyed with whatever freakiness is goin' on around here? Absolutely," he grumbled. "Good news is, we still got some eyes in there."
There was a whir and a portion of his chest extended and unfolded into a small monitor with several buttons arrayed along the bottom. The screen blinked to life, displaying a blue screen before shifting to a mass of shadows as his fingers still gripped Robin's cloak. Tapping one of the buttons, his arm dropped to the floor and detached from the cable trapped in the door. He smiled as he expertly tapped at the buttons, maneuvering his detached arm about to show the different occupants still trapped within.
"Booyah. Eat your heart out, Inspector Gadget."
"Pleases stop comparing yourself to cartoon characters, and - wait. What was that?"
"Where?" he asked, halting the camera's progress.
"Back to the right and up on the - there!"
Her finger tapped the screen at a point between the hyperventilating man and the woman with her child. She asked, "Can you magnify it?"
"I'll just get closer," he offered. His fingers danced again and his arm arm scuttled forward until its path was suddenly impeded by a familiar green face. Fangs jutted from Beast Boy's mouth in multiple, uneven rows and thick saliva rolled from between them, hanging ponderously upon his chin like ripe apples refusing to abandon their branch. White eyes watched the camera interestedly as he crouched before it and Raven could almost imagine a feline tail sprouting from his back, its tip twitching excitedly in the air. After a few experimental sniffs, he leaned back again and hissed before a thick fluid exploded from his mouth and coated the camera.
"Oh, no. No, he didn't. There's no way - that little grass stain just used the Super Spit! He just used the Super Spit on my hand!" Cyborg wailed.
"The Super Spit?"
"Y'know what a hagfish is?"
"No," she admitted.
"Don't learn," he advised. "At least this gives me a chance to test the taser."
There was a clicking sound followed by a yelp and the blurred image in front of the camera jumped back but grew larger once again as it pounced forward.
"You should try a higher setting."
"Stop backseat drivin' my arm. And what's up with all this hostility between you and good ol' green genes? Lovers' spat?" he wondered as the taser clicked in warning, followed by another shout, and the changeling decided that his curious new prey was not worth the fight it was putting up and meandered away. Cyborg guided his limb forward, vision distorted by the slime that clung to it, but the wall was a difficult target to miss.
"We aren't lovers," she snarled at him. "And there's nothing 'up' with us."
"I'm fairly certain one of those old books of yours has something about a lady protestin' too much."
"Perhaps we could focus on saving our friends."
"I'm pretty good at multi-taskin'," he returned.
"Such pretty fire . . . I want to touch it. Touch it. Feel it burn. Burn. Burn. Burn."
"And the award for creepiest civilian goes to the skinny dude in the corner," Cyborg muttered as he guided his limb up the wall. It was difficult to distinguish anything more than colors upon the screen given the obstruction, but he paused as he came upon the black scrawl across the deposit boxes. The camera leaned forward and brushed against one of the doors, attempting to clear away the slime with varying degrees of success. He frowned at the poor quality of the image but redirected it towards the discrepancy and squinted at the letters.
"Is . . . Is that . . . I'm sorry, I have no idea," he confessed.
"I believe it says 'Deimos,'" Raven mumbled, gazing intently at the image. The letters were barely distinguishable but she could make out enough to rationalize the old name that explained the events. Fear began to set into her, chilling her to her very soul and she felt as though she was drowning in it.
"Deimos?" Cyborg frowned and his organic eye shifted about worriedly, picking up on her mounting horror.
"Greek god of terror, usually to the point of madness. He was a servitor and son of Ares who assisted him in his duties upon the battlefield. I've heard rumors that Wonder Woman's faced him several times, but he's usually not alone. He's usually accompanied by -"
"Phobos. God of fear. Though, this time, 'goddess' might be more appropriate."
They turned in unison towards the dark barrel of the shotgun, a Mossberg 500, aimed between them, ready to jerk towards either, and far enough away that neither could easily reach it, even if they could overcome the fright that froze their breath. It was the dread that had followed them since they had entered the building, setting them on edge and to watching the shadows. There was no hallucination of their deepest terrors or a distortion of the world's perception besides seeing it all through raw, choking horror.
Braced against the weapon was a lean girl with alabaster skin that made unsoiled snow seem dark while hair blacker than pitch cascaded well past her shoulder blades. Jutting from her lower lip was a metallic spike, one of the many adornments laced through her smooth skin, matching the gleaming trio of hoops in her brow and asymmetrical arrangement in her ears. There was a tear near the top of one of them as though a former occupant had been violently torn out. Slender, green eyes observed them with something akin to boredom, and the extraneous belts, buckles, and metal points of her pale ensemble clattered together as she shifted slightly, the crimson tinged edges of her ruffled skirt rustling against each other. She towered over the kneeling heroes on platform boots that reached to her knees and were capped with metal plates designed to look like skulls.
Keeping the firearm steady with one hand, finger lounging against the trigger, she reached up with the other and adjusted a microphone that led to a device in her ear.
"All right, Deimos, go ahead and get your air mask on, sweetie," she instructed, the rough tone from her initial statement dropping into a smoother, gentler manner that was almost maternal in nature.
"She's burning so, so bright . . . I want to touch her . . . Feel my skin blister and nerves scream . . ."
"Of course you do, sweetie, but let's try to focus right now. Do you remember the numbers?"
"Numbers, numbers, circling in my head . . . Hear that chant; they want me dead," he sang.
Within the vault, the ragged man in the corner unfolded from his crouched position and glanced about the room at the men and women sinking into his madness. He was abnormally thin, gaunt to the point where he looked like skin stretched over a skeleton rather than a complete human being and his skull was almost visible through the papery skin stretched across his head. Gangly fingers danced restlessly at his side as he swayed back and forth. Heterochromatic eyes, one a pale blue and the other a forest green, slid about the room, searching the boxes before he stepped forward, gliding around the other occupants of the increasingly warm room. Fingers jammed into the pocket of his worn jeans and he pulled out a pair of keys, each carefully marked with their corresponding numbers, and he shoved the first into its slot, opening the small.
Within the box was a well-maintained MAC-10 accompanied by several full magazines, one of which he slid into the weapon and stuffed the remainder into his pockets. His wrist slipped through the strap on the firearm's grip and he pushed it up to dangle from his shoulder, ensuring the safety was on before returning his attention to the box. There was a strange device, shaped vaguely like a 'T' with the cross section clearly intended to be a sort of handle and a red button for the thumb. Its end was open and bristled with oddly shaped components, and he hooked it into a belt loop. The final occupant of the deposit box was a dark, metallic face plate with a strap that he wrapped about his head, pressing the front of it to his mouth and nose. Once secured, his breath rasped through it and he crouched to the second box, larger than the previous one and turned the key in its lock.
Its contents were not as numerous, merely a voluminous dufflebag carrying an air tank that Deimos slid onto his back after sliding his MAC-10 through the loops. He plugged its tube into his faceplate and activated the communications to announce, "All set up in here."
"Good to hear, sweetie. Now grab everything valuable, and you can pick where we go for dinner," Phobos instructed.
"No, no. Already ate this week. Still too fat," he shook his head, wincing at the action. He pressed his hand against his temples and wrenched his eyelids closed. His lips twitched as he ground his teeth together and then softly counted, "Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one. Al - Phobos. You there?"
"I'm here, sweetie. Always. You okay?"
"No," he answered miserably. "Are you sure you're not just another voice?"
"If I am, I'm a very convincing one. I'm holding two Titans hostage."
"Oh. Good. I was worried you weren't real. Sorry."
"That's all right, sweetie. Now, get stealing. I've got boots to buy."
"Got it," he chirped as he crouched next to the gasping man who had been pacing the room seconds before. Sweat was beginning to coat the man's skin but Deimos took no interest in that as he picked through his pockets. Wallet and glittering watch were tossed into the bag while the loose butterscotch candies were quickly shoved into the thin man's pocket before he moved to the next victim in the increasingly hot room.
Outside the small space, Cyborg and Raven still fought not to be consumed by terror, the latter's eyes searching for a potential weapon. Her efforts did not go unnoticed and there was a sudden pain as the air was pushed from her lungs, the butt of the shotgun was slamming into her stomach. Cyborg dredged up the courage to move but stopped as Phobos steadied the weapon and directed its muzzle towards him.
"Stay. Or else we find out how many shots it takes to get to your gooey center," she menaced. "In fact, it would probably be best if both of you settled down. Deimos and I didn't have any plans to hurt anybody - much - but we're adaptable."
"I'm startin' to think that you two ain't exactly gods," Cyborg muttered as Raven straightened.
Phobos nodded to her armament, "Not quite. But this little guy smites with the best of them, so take your chances."
"So what was the whole point in callin' us down here?" he asked.
"Are you trying to trick me into making one of those monologues?" she demanded. Her thin eyes narrowed further and her grip tightened on her shotgun, a finger caressing the trigger.
"No tricks," he said, lifting his remaining arm and spreading his fingers. "Just curious. Most crooks try to avoid us. It's a lil' bit hurtful."
She snorted, mouth twisting into a smirk and her gaze shifted between the large youth and the sorceress before she nervously licked her lips. Keeping her weapon trained towards them and ready to put to use, she answered, "The plan was for all five of you to get trapped in the vault, all overwhelmed by fear and whatever madness you caught from Deimos. That way, we could grab whatever we wanted without having to worry about you guys interrupting us."
"But Raven pulled me out and we were pullin' more out of the vault," Cyborg supplied.
"Yeah," she grimaced. "Couldn't get the door closed in time. But, as long as you don't do anything stupider than dressing up in spandex and saving people for free, we should be able to get out of here without anybody getting hurt."
Within the sealed room, Deimos hummed a song to himself, one that Phobos had taught him, to keep himself focused on his task. It descended into mumbling before stopping entirely as he glanced towards Starfire who sat against a melting wall and cooed to the burning energy playing between her fingers. He stilled and the desire to seize the blaze roared through him, demanding an inferno before it was satiated and he winced, closing his eyes as visions he knew to be false danced before them. Phantom sounds spun about him and he whimpered before counting down again, under his breath. The voices lapsed into silence and he cautiously opened one eye, assuring they were gone before straightening and sighing with relief.
Turning to the next deposit box, he dropped the half-filled duffel bag and pushed the weapon's strap back onto his shoulder as he pulled the strange device from his belt. His fingers curled about the handle, its short post emerging from between his middle and index fingers. Carefully aligning the end with the keyhole of the box, he held it firmly in place before his thumb pressed the red button on the end. The device pushed back against his arm, but he did not allow it to move and was rewarded with a sound akin to the muted blast of gunfire. Returning the device to his belt loop, he hooked a finger in the hole that had been punched through the lock and pulled the door open. He paid little attention to what treasures he unearthed as he pulled out the long boxes, and simply emptied them into the bag, knowing that Phobos could find a market for anything.
As he worked, he soon found himself humming again before remembering the words that accompanied the tune.
"The moon is bright, the wind is quiet; the tree leaves hang over the window; my little baby, go to sleep quickly; sleep, dreaming sweet dreams . . ."
As he sang to himself, he failed to note the faint movement out of the corner of his eye that did not come from one of his hostages.
Raven could feel the fear boosting her own worries and concerns, turning the thought of the bruise that would form from the blow into a rising suspicion that she was suffering internal bleeding. Any thoughts of her friends immediately darkened into nightmares and she was forced to push them from her mind, focusing on the current situation she was trapped in. Closing her eyes to take a calming breath, which was turned into a shudder by the fear, she released it and opened her gaze onto their captor.
"If you could plan all this, you should be more than smart enough to hold down a legitimate job. Why are you endangering yourself and your partner with these antics?" Raven wondered as a distraction from her own mounting worries.
"Hah! Right. I could totally see how that interview would go. 'Hey, remember that chick from earlier? What, the one that had everybody pissing their pants in abject terror just by being here? Yeah, her. We should totally get her a job here.' That would work out so well," she snorted derisively. Her tone and expression sobered as she continued, "Besides, I don't have the marketable skills for anything that can support me and Deimos - besides, y'know, robbing folks. Which, I should note, I'm pretty good at that."
"Wouldn't have guessed," Cyborg grumbled.
Phobos chuckled before asking, with evident curiosity, "Hey, those energy bolt things your alien lobs around - they burn oxygen?"
"She's used them in space before but I wouldn't be surprised if they did when there was oxygen in the environment," Cyborg supplied.
"Good. That'll simplify things," she said. After a moment, she continued conversationally, "Y'know, aside from that little incident earlier, you two have been remarkably good hostages, and I want to thank you for that."
"While I appreciate the thought, I have to be honest. You aren't totally inspirin' me to Stockholm Syndrome here," Cyborg admitted. It inspired a burst of harsh laughter from her, but she stopped as the lullaby in her earpiece suddenly ended in a sharp grunt and did not start back up. Keeping the concern from her face and eyeing the pair suspiciously, she cautiously reached up to press at the small headset.
"Deimos, sweetie, you there? What's going on? . . . Sweetie, I need you to answer me. C'mon, c'mon. Sweetie? Henry?"
Her tone was growing increasingly frantic and though she tried to focus on the heroes, she glanced away for a second, and Raven did not waste the opportunity. She gather her will, forging through the overflowing fear to grind out her mantra, and the Mossberg flew up to smash into Phobos's face. A snarl escaped from her lips as blood burst from her nose and the black energy still encasing the weapon tore it from her grasp. It hovered in the air for a moment before it was snapped and the individual pieces allowed to clatter to the floor before the dark-haired girl.
With a growl that her powers twisted into something guttural and inhuman, Phobos pounced upon the heroes who flinched away. Raven was tackled to the floor and she tried to cover herself from the sloppy bows before the weight was suddenly lifted off her and she peered up to see Cyborg struggling to keep a grip on the back of the short girl's neck. Swinging her legs up, the criminal lashed out with both of them towards Cyborg's head and managed to catch his chin. Her strength surprised him and he released her as he stumbled backwards from the blow. Dropping roughly to the floor, she quickly rolled to her feet and roared, "Enough!"
The glow of power flickered and disappeared from Raven's eyes and she took a shuddering gasp before crumpling to the floor, struggling to regain her breath as she quailed and trembled. Cyborg was reduced to a similar state and as Phobos stepped over him, she took the opportunity to savagely kick him, denting his chassis before proceeding to the vault door. She paused, licking at the blood trickling from her nose and staining her upper lip, and grimaced before she spit it onto the floor.
Slapping a hand upon the handle of the vault, she tugged but found it unmoving, and she dropped her grip. With a groan, she ran her hand down her hair before sighing and reaching into her pocket to retrieve a dark cellphone. Navigating to her messages, her finger sped across the scene and sent her request before she slipped it back into her pocket. Setting her hands on her hip, she scowled as she was forced to wait only to be interrupted by the sharp crack of breaking glass.
She whirled about to see a black field spreading from about Raven as she lost the battle to rein in her emotions, and it passed over a nearby window, splintering it into spidery cracks. Shards began to fall from it, slowly chiming against the window sill before trickling to the floor as the pace increased. Phobos took a pronounced step backwards and glanced at her fellow youths who tried to rise above the relentless waves of dread that poured from her, and, for a brief second, there was a look of apology and sorrow, a twist of her lips strangely akin to regret. Then she turned at the sound of the bolts sliding out of place and hurriedly pulled the door open. A blast of heat, worthy of an oven, rolled from the room, but she dashed to the sprawled form of Deimos. Lying next to him was Cyborg's disconnected arm, fingers curled into a fist and now inert with its wielder crippled by horror.
The temperature was evening out in the two rooms as Phobos scooped her partner onto her shoulders, making a mental note to start ensuring he actually ate his meals. She hefted the duffel bag into her spare hand and struggled with her cargo for a minute before getting it onto her shoulder. Finally, she slipped the MAC-10 from his shoulder and wrapped its cord about her arm, securing her hold upon it. As she made to exit, Beast Boy, lying on his side with his tongue lolling out, managed a growl at her and she tiredly lifted the firearm, sending a spray into the wall behind him. He whimpered and tucked into himself as she continued unimpeded to the entryway where she paused to see Raven struggling to her feet. With a resigned sigh, she raised the weapon again.
"Just lie back down. This can only end badly for you," she promised.
Grey fingers traced along the nearby wall before her palm fully pressed against it as Raven used it for support. Fear and madness howled through her mind, turning the scene nightmarish and she closed her eyes against the demons that rose before her. The image of a new set of eyes appearing upon Phobos's forehead and twisting antlers spiking upwards haunted Raven, and she clung to the island of serenity she had managed to wash ashore upon. She held herself there, gathering whatever control she could and tumbling over her mantra as she lifted the hand not occupied with keeping her standing and pushed her palm forward.
A sliver of her soul slid through the armament directed at her and she tried to break it apart, tear it from her grip, but she could barely keep the trigger in place as Phobos tried to pull it. Her control was slipping and realizing it, she made a final, desperate bid and then slumped to the floor, subjected to a chorus of whispers from inside her own mind.
Phobos scoffed as the black energy dissolved from the weapon and shook her head, "I warned you. Why doesn't anybody ever listen?"
Her finger squeezed the trigger and she was rewarded with a dull click, the weapon lifeless in her hand with its firing pin snapped by Raven's efforts. Frowning, she squeezed again, repeating the process before trying to clear the chamber, taking her eyes off her captives. Raven surged forward, throwing herself into a punch that connected with Phobos's jaw line. Deimos dropped from her shoulder and she stumbled backwards, but Raven's heart sank as the muddy eyes turned towards her, rage flashing through them.
"Forget the gun. I'm going to want to feel your face break," she seethed as she stepped forward and Raven sagged. There was a sudden green blur and Phobos pitched forward, her head bashing against the door as she fell. She groaned and seemed about to rise again before simply going limp, but that did not stop the verdant ram shifting into a wolf and snarling as he protectively prowled to stand between her and Raven. The sorceress groped forward before managing to catch a fistful of thick fur, and she pulled her self up, still on a knee as she clung to the wolf.
With the pair unconscious, it was becoming easier to organize her thoughts and block off the fear and madness the pair broadcasted, and she heard Cyborg lumber to his feet behind her. Focusing on the changeling, she brushed her hand along his head and neck, trying to instill calm in him as she whispered in his ears.
"Hush, Garfield. It's going to be all right. Just calm down. Everything's going to be all right. Sssh, sssh. It's all right," she urged and his menacing growl abated, followed shortly by the release of tension from his body. He shuddered and the fear in him was overshadowed by pain as his flesh moved under her touch and he rose into his natural form, staggering until Raven balanced him. A groan passed from his lips as he pressed his palm to the side of his head, slowly stabilizing before finally opening his eyes and glancing about.
"Whappened?" he slurred. Others began to stir, and Raven glanced back to see that Cyborg was moving Deimos away from the people, hastening their return to sanity. The woman sobbed as she clutched at her child, stroking her hair, while the man with bloodied fingers trembled as he gaped at his ragged digits. The heat of the room began to dissipate as Starfire snuffed out the emerald energy rolling from her body and she sat up, clearly groggy. Robin blinked at the tufts of hair in his hand and the dark strands that littered the floor around him.
"Your mind was flooded with dementia and terror," she answered as he pulled away, standing on his own. "You went feral."
"Yeah, I-I . . . I think I can feel that," he said before noticing the girl slumped upon the floor. He frowned and looked to the sorceress, "We win?"
"Somethin' like that," Cyborg supplied as he strode into the room. He hesitated, dread running through his inner components for a second before he pushed through it and bodily tossed Phobos over his shoulder. He exited as the others began to stand, using the walls for support as their legs threatened to give out from under them, and Raven could feel the panic that possessed them, the grief at the incident they had suffered. None of them could meet each others' eyes, quickly flickering their gaze away whenever they met, and they shuffled silently through the door, save for the occasional, broken sob that wrenched at her heart.
Because we don't know if we're going to get a chance to reveal it within the story, Alyx regularly shaves Henry's head for him to keep him from pulling his hair out, which he is prone to doing after catching trichotillomania (that he also passed onto Robin in the above encounter). Also, the song that she sings to him is the 'Northeastern Cradle Song,' which is, according to our research, is a traditional Chinese lullaby and folk song. Alyx is third-generation Chinese-American on her mom's side.
So, we hope that you all enjoyed this chapter and please take the moment to review! Let us know what you think of the new villains that we introduced.
Thanks for reading!