Okay, this is going to get slightly anachronistic, but please bear with me. I needed to put it in that order. It goes day, night, and back to the same day. I'm sorry about that.

Thank you to SuPeR HyPeR chick 101, hollly, Crimson Black, jumpstarter, BerryDrops, tennisgal456, final frost bite fantasy, lil love fan, and cartoonfire for reviewing. Also, thanks to everyone who PMed me to give a review because the reviews didn't work before.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans or anyhing else mentioned below.

Flashback

"What did you need to show me, Bruce?" Dick was in Bruce's room, a place he was rarely ever allowed in, even as a young adult. It was huge, bigger than most of the rooms at Wayne Manor, which were all bigger than the average master bedroom. But Bruce hardly decorated anything that guests weren't going to see, and it was rather bare.

"Your parents, Dick. If you were still in the circus and everything...when you turned eighteen, your costume would've changed. It's this." Bruce handed him a paper bag, and Dick took it warily. His last memories of his parents were not so happy. They'd been murdered, their trapeze cut off the ceiling as their act went on. Dick screwed his eyes shut, forcing the painful images out of his mind. He'd seen it all, and hadn't talked about it in...ever.

"Oh."

"Keep it clean. And stay out of trouble in Jump, will you?" Bruce said, 'moment' over. He walked back down to entertain his guests, and Dick pulled the costume out of his bag.

End Flashback

He'd liked it instantly. The blue and black, with the dark bird in the center. It matched his real personality, and clashed with his public one. A half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth, Dick shoved it back in the bag, turning to the window of the jet.

He landed in Jump City in fifteen minutes, and a growing sense of unease had formed in his stomach. What if he didn't like it there? Or worse, what if everyone knew him as the Wayne Enterprises mascot? He'd die of embarrassment on landing, especially because Rachel said she was bringing a few friends to meet him. What if he messed up in front of them?

"Please fasten your seatbelt, Mr. Grayson," stated the flight attendant. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. Might as well give this place a chance.

The black-clad girl twisted and pulled at the lock on the safe, but it would not come undone. "Open!" she hissed at it, quiet enough so the owners of the said safe would not wake up. Her anger drowned away, surprisingly, and her hands began to feel quite warm. They were glowing.

With a quiet shriek, she stumbled backwards, taking care not to bang into anything. What was this, some kind of illusion to ward off theives such as herself? If so, it was definitely working. The glow died away, and her body temperature returned to normal. Cautiously, she approached the lock yet again. It stayed latched innocently, much to her frustration. There wasn't a lock she couldn't get past. Somehow, she'd figure this out, no matter what fluorescent lighting the owners had decided to put up.

Five minutes later, she was quickly running out of patience again. She growled, restraining herself from breaking the safe entirely. The glow happened again, only this time, the lock was in her hand, and it melted. Whatever that glow was, it melted the metal right out of her hands.

Panic clawed at her insides, and she was about to wring her hands in worry, but decided against it. Who knew what that glow could do. Though it was not the time or place, she tried to recreate the situation and figure out a way to get past that deathly glow and to the money inside.

I was just standing. Like this. Two feet shoulder-width apart, crouched down a little. And I was shivering a little. It's pretty cold down in the cellar. And my hands were out like this on the...now melted...lock. The setting was the exact same, but nothing happened. Nothing at all. What am I missing? Why isn't this working? She thought for a minute, and then it hit her. I was angry.

It wasn't hard for her to get angry at all. All she had to think about was the complete unfairness she'd gone through, and what she'd been reduced to. She'd been homeless for so long, with no idea on how to support herself. She'd nearly starved. She'd nearly died of thirst. She'd very nearly killed herself. It all would have happened, if she hadn't gotten her act together at the last minute.

Now she was much better off. She had a home, she had a sufficient amount of food, running water, and electricity. All the money to support this was stolen. She was good, very good at what she did. And she hated it, but she had no other choice.

Almost as soon as the anger sparked, so did her fingers. Even though she was expecting it, her surprise was great, but she fought to keep the glow there. She held her hands up to the safe, and pools of heated metal formed wherever she touched. In minutes, she had the entire safe on the ground as a liquid, the treasures inside untouched.

This is going to come in handy.

She swiped the money, leaving quickly. She'd been in there for far too long, and she had what she needed. What reason was there to stick around?

On waking up, the owners would find that they'd been visited by the soon-to-be infamous master-thief that only worked at night, and burned any obstacles to get what she wanted. It was no wonder the media began to refer to her as "Star-fire."

"Hey, Dick, how are you?" Rachel asked in her signature monotone as Dick stepped off the jet. He shrugged, shaking her hand.

"Alright. How about you, Rachel? Are these the friends you've been telling me so much about?" A scrawny one with rather pointy ears grinned at him.

"Name's Gar, I'm Rae's boyfriend. Nice to finally meet Dick Grayson. Rachel's dad talks a lot about how you'll never make it in the real world because you're just a prettyboy--" Rachel slapped her hand over Gar's mouth, but Dick laughed.

"I don't think I will, either, I guess I have something in common with him. Who knew?"

"Aw, come on, Rachel, you're dad's got it all wrong. Look at this guy, he's paler than you! You get out in the sun any? Don't tell me you don't know how to play football?" asked a tall, muscular African-American teen.

"Played QB on the varsity team last year. My best sport," Dick assured.

"Well, alright! Maybe we'll get someone who knows what he's doing this year. My name's Victor Stone, you can call me Vic. And my girlfriend here's Karen." Karen smiled warmly and shook Dick's extended hand.

"Nice to meet you. Just a warning, there are a lot of--"

"OMG! OMG! IT'S DICK GRAYSON! OVER THERE BY THE JET! I TOLD YOU HE'D BE HERE, MISSY! OMG!" Dick's eyes widened as he saw--literally--a stampede of girls heading for their group. Karen bit her lip.

"--fans."

Rachel stepped up in front of him, and the whole crowd stopped as one. With one ice-cold glare, they began to back away. Rachel held their frightened gazes, taking a step forward. Whispers of "It's that creepy Goth girl, we'd better watch out" and "Even Dick Grayson isn't worth putting up with Roth, Mandy" were heard all over the landing field as the girls broke into a run away from them. Dick's eyes went even wider, if possible, in amazement. Never had he seen anything like it. Girls, running away from him. He was in heaven. Memories of the past two weeks at Wayne Manor seemed to grow distant immediately.

"How--"

Rachel smirked. "They hate me. Or at least, they can't understand how I can be rich, smart, and unpopular at the same time. Whatever. Saves you a bunch of trouble, doesn't it?" Dick nodded, still too mesmerized to speak. Gar, Vic, and Karen were cracking up behind them, but he didn't care. As long as he stayed around Rachel, he had nothing to fear in the fangirl field.

He was starting to like Jump City.

More intros next chapter...Sorry! I know how boring it can get, but that's the last intro chapter, I promise.