A/N This is a very difficult part of the year for me. Not because I've got some hardship or bad memories associated with it, but because it's time for the Stanley Cup playoffs. Major distraction when your favorite sport is at that point of the year where everybody who's playing is playing at the best of their ability and with the entirety of their considerable efforts. It's exciting stuff, but doesn't make for the best time to work on writing – which always seems to come best when the TV's off.
Disclaimer – In the event of a tie for ownership of the Teen Titans, the first tiebreaker shall be number of original creations (characters, scripts, drawings) used in all media distribution methods. The second tiebreaker shall be greatest number of accolades received in all media distribution methods. The final tiebreaker shall be greatest number of total original creations and accolades. I've got exactly zero shares of Warner Bros. stock. What's the likelihood I'll see these tiebreaker rules in use?
A Year In The Life – July – Whenever I'm caught between two evils, I take the one I've never tried. (Mae West)
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Mad Mod, birth name Madison Modlin, was stewing, quite literally. His prison work assignment had him in the kitchens preparing food for his fellow inmates. This served the double purpose of keeping him away from any technology as the kitchen's most advanced bit of electronics was an industrial mixer that had been installed some time in the fifties and also kept him away from the laundry where he was highly likely to make alterations to the prison uniforms to improve the wretched things.
It was times like these, the smell of substandard ingredients slowly turning to mush under his barely adequate hand, that he admired the stupidity of the criminal justice system; sad sods. Why they thought he would need existing electronics to be able to create his lovely little toys was beyond him. Materials were good enough, and those could be gotten from the kitchen pretty easily. A bit of spare steel, some plastic, glass, all there for the taking. And everything he couldn't swipe? Well, jail was a great place to learn how classic barter systems worked.
And considering how far along his latest creation had come he was figuring to be out that evening. It would be grand; just in time to correct a past mistake.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Punk Rocket, birth name Albert Schmeckle, was finally home. He tossed his apartment keys onto the dresser amazed he still had them, placed his guitar onto its alter, and collapsed onto the mattress on the bare floor. It had taken him months to figure out where he had been sent by that trumpet playing git and a few more months to figure out how to get back.
The first thing he'd done upon returning to the dimension the Earth was actually in was to try and contact the Brain. Having no luck with that, nor with any of the others he tried to contact, Punk started doing a little digging. A little is all it took to find the massive amounts of newspaper headlines and YouTube clips that had been plastered all over the world while he was gone.
He wasn't exactly broken up about it, an anarchist joining any sort of group never really felt right, but it meant he was back to square one. Maybe joining a group had been the wrong way to go? Sure, there were people that were obviously better than him at fighting against law and order and all that nonsense, but if you had to join something to get that good it didn't matter. They didn't want to get rid of the establishment they wanted to replace it. Well, bollocks to that.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Raven, birth name Raven, was struggling with a bit of a conundrum. Her socks had somehow gotten into a wash with Starfire's load of reds. The change to her socks was minimal, and they didn't really show above the tops of her boots, but she was sure someone would notice, probably Beast Boy.
Since she didn't have any other clean socks, it was a debate whether she would wear them and just deal with it, wear them so she could go buy new ones, or go without socks to get new ones.
And although she didn't consider herself vain, she really liked how well her socks matched her hair.
It was as she was holding up one of the slightly pinked ones to one of her unchanged ones that the alarm went off. She was quickly in the common room along with the others as Robin announced a prison break. It didn't bode well that an entire cellblock had escaped, but at least it wasn't one of the high security ones.
Raven was put in charge of containment to keep the escapees within a mile or two of the prison while Robin, Beast Boy, and Cyborg rounded them up. Starfire would act as the failsafe to grab anyone who got past Raven's blockades. At "Titans, go!" they were off.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Mad Mod was gleefully skipping down the street. Letting out everyone else in cellblock F meant that he'd had as easy a time as ever avoiding the guards as he rushed the blasted wall with those common thugs he'd been penned in with. Freedom was grand, but now it was time for some good old-fashioned fun. It would be the fourth soon, and it was a great time to get back the Titans for his incarceration.
First things first, he was going to need a base of operations. Perhaps that distasteful little watering hole that pretended it was in the style of his darling London? Yes, best to start with the charlatans who pretended to love his bonny home.
So, with a twirl of his latest cane design and another grand skip, he was off to The Britannia Arms. The pub, as it detestably insisted on calling itself, was just a few blocks away.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Punk Rocket was having a grand time. He hadn't even started reeking havoc and people were already running panicked through the streets. The police looked to be scrambling about in a mad dash every which way but towards him. Best to get their attention now, when he knew where they were.
Kicking over a mailbox and vaulting off of it onto the hood of a passing squad car he thrashed an D diminished straight through the windshield. The glass shattered, the driver clutched his head in agony, and Rocket jumped off to watch the car plow through a Hallmark store's front plate glass window.
It felt good to be back home.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Raven was floating a few hundred feet above the epicenter of the area she was supposed to contain. She pulled into her lotus position and concentrated as firmly as she could. She couldn't really trap everyone inside of such a large area, she could barely trap one person inside a bubble barely larger than they were, but she could make it look like they were trapped.
The spell she was casting would simply allow her to monitor every street leaving her containment area with a little illusion that made every way out look fully blocked off by the police and the Titans. Few would try to break through, and Star was ready for them if they did.
The meditation was mostly to keep her sane as information poured in from so many points throughout the city.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Mad Mod had hidden the instant he'd spotted them. Just a couple of blocks up the street he'd spotted that little blighter, Robin, instructing the rest of those foul little tykes on how they were going to round up all his newly freed friends. Seems they didn't know he was out yet. Good.
With no base of operations yet and with the Titans having several police huddled with them, discretion was the better path at this point.
But if the Titans were already mobilized to contain all the escapees, what to do? Separate them. They were too good together, but given enough distance they started dropping like flies. Wasn't that how the Brain had done it? He'd been stupid to put them all in the same place afterwards. Looks like it was time to put his new cane into use.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Punk Rocket had several police cars chasing him. It was so funny watching them try and keep up. Didn't they know he could just take off over the top of a building if he really wanted to lose them?
Punk was just looking for the best place to put them. There had to be a museum or a school or a library around that would appreciate some good old fashioned rock with a bit of redecorating.
He rounded a turn and saw the perfect place. It didn't look like they'd even spotted him yet. He raced forward and once all of the cars following him had made the turn as well he just looped over the entire line of cars and played his loudest E seventh chord. The police cars were suddenly airborne towards the Titans and the barricade they were setting up. He flew off before they could rally from the attack – he didn't want them ruining his fun just yet.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Raven's eyes snapped open. She quickly had Robin on her communicator as she scanned the skies to locate the smoke trail she was sure would be visible from the car wreck she had just seen.
"Robin here, what's up, Raven?"
"Six or seven squad cars just got thrown at one of my barricades near 4th street. Whoever did it didn't get close enough for me to see them, but it sounded like there was a guitar."
"Rocket."
"That's my best guess. I'll change up the illusion so that if he goes back he doesn't figure out what's going on. Let Star know that he's still contained, but could break through pretty easily."
"Will do. Robin out."
The lapse in concentration it had taken to give Robin the update had cost Raven. Her head throbbed painfully in rebellion against the knowledge flooding it as she had spoken. She needed to be briefer with future messages.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Mad Mod was skipping again. Since he couldn't get to his first choice, he decided to just get started. He hopped up to a block of flats that were in that horridly boring style that was only used because it was cheap. With a flourish he swung his cane around like a fencer and finished with a firm jab directly at the main door. When nothing happened except for passersby to stare at him, he grinned and flipped open the top of the cane to give the hidden button a press.
The result was that the bricks, spackle, and siding rearranged itself into a miniature of the Tower of London. Mod gave a sweeping bow as he skipped off towards another building. "Be nice to your new home, duckies, it's good enough to hold a king's ransom." He laughed, madly of course, as he tapped the next building he'd chosen. It reformed into Westminster Abbey.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Punk Rocket was golfing with his guitar. Sure, the 'ball' was actually a small propane tank he'd stolen from a barbeque, and the 'hole' he was aiming for was the fire he'd started in a department store, but golfing was allowed for punk rockers; Alice had paved the way.
With a firm swing and a gleeful shout as he watched it arc right into the blaze he trotted off down the street picking out one of his favorite riffs while the tank's explosion turned the sky a lovely orange for a moment or two.
Rocket was still laughing about the screams he could hear when he rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks. Standing firm, and resolutely in front of him was none other than Buckingham Palace. Punk started looking all around him to try and make sense of what he was seeing. He grabbed some yank hiding behind a phone booth.
"Oy, what city is this?"
"W-what? I-i-i-it's Jump City."
Punk Rocket threw the scared man back behind the phone booth as he stormed towards the intruding architecture. "Some bloody git's trying to reform all my lovely chaos!" He did a power slide straight at the structure as he strummed his guitar as hard as he could. The sound waves flung out of his supped up Strat shook the building to its core as great pieces of it started toppling down. He got up to look at the smoldering heap and let out a battle cry as he ran off to find whoever had done this. "Anarchy in the U.K.!"
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Raven was getting tired. The boundaries were holding, but no sign of Punk Rocket had been found since she'd reported in. Worse yet was the shear number of convicts still on the loose. They might have hours still to go. At least the real police had been able to use her illusion to scramble into position without the risk of someone slipping by before they were in place.
They had been advancing forward to tighten the containment area, but it was slow work as each building had to be checked from top to bottom before they could move past it. She silently cursed when her communicator went off.
"Be quick."
"We've just caught the last main group. There're a few stragglers, but they've been going down easy."
"Done soon?"
"Maybe, bad news though. The prison finished their head count. Looks like Mad Mod was the one heading this unscheduled field trip."
"Mad Mod and Punk Rocket? Plan?"
"We keep doing what we're doing. The police have caught up to your boundaries, right? As soon as the last of the stragglers are caught we'll turn our full attention on Mod and Rocket. You gonna be able to hold out till then?"
"Be fine. Bye."
Robin had the good taste not to look affronted at the abruptness of their conversation. She could hold this for a few more hours, but these pauses in her meditation were hurting worse every time.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Mad Mod was fuming. Every single one of the lovely little bits of Britannia he'd erected was lying in ruins. Somebody needed to pay.
He's was storming along, planning on seeing what his cane would do to a living person when he spotted one of his former roommates bolting across the square in the next block up. He sprinted along the shadows to see what the large lad was doing.
Mod recognized the brute as one of the few folks that most of the people at his level of criminality steered clear of. He might not have been smart enough to lead a paper bag, but the bloke had strength and a touch of the old psychotic that he hadn't fully given into yet, though most thought it was only a matter of time. Mod and his fellow criminal masterminds had enough sense to stay away from things that were about to explode.
Sure, Mod kept his distance from the fellow, but he couldn't help but silently cheer him on as he saw him sprinting towards a bevy of constables. It was a strange thing though. As soon as old muscles got to where he could see what Mod could the Titans were suddenly on the scene. And they hadn't just arrived; they'd just appeared out of nothing; not even that dark girl's black energy showing anywhere.
Mod had done enough work with holograms to know when he was looking at one once he knew where to look. And looking skyward he spotted a very familiar dark blue cloak high above him.
"Now how to get you down, I wonder…"
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Punk Rocket was exhausted. He'd already brought down Buckingham Palace, twice, four Tower Bridges, half a dozen Saint Paul's Cathedrals, and even a Wembley Stadium or two, but more of the blasted London sightseeing tour kept popping up around town like weeds.
It was bleeding insanity!
After his third or fourth Royal Exchange he'd gotten the idea for who was behind all the London lunacy and he was certain that he'd be doing a one-man show for the outdated hippy prick. He'd have gone to grab a few amps to up the ante, but every time he get near some escape for the part of the city he was in he'd spot the Titans and a line of police cars.
The police he could handle, but the Titans weren't an easy target especially since they'd learned how to fight him.
And then, there he was, Mad Mod, just standing on a street corner like he was waiting for a bus. Rocket flew in on his guitar, leapt off of it, and went to as big a swing as he could. He nearly threw his shoulder out when the instrument passed right through Mod like air, but then it spoke.
"Thought you might be a little hostile, so I've arranged for this bit of safety. Don't want nothing happening to my person before we've had a little chat."
"Piss off, wanker!"
"Such a mouth, but at least you're drawing from the higher English instead of this lowbrow stuff they've built up." When Punk Rocket started to walk away, Mad Mod decided to get to the point. "Having trouble getting to anywhere else in the city? Titans putting up a fuss whenever you're trying to get across town?"
Punk Rocket looked back at the aging hipster. "If you're coming to me, you ain't getting past them either."
"Then let's help each other, one Brit to another."
Rocket eyed the old fool. "Alright, you can get a gig, what's the plan?" Old fool was a good title for the buggerer; he'd get what he deserved just as soon as the Titans were out of his way. The old fool was probably planning the same thing.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Raven had finally gotten the call she'd been waiting for. Cyborg had just let her know that the last inmate had been returned to the county lockup and that she was free to let down the barrier.
She was stretching luxuriously to get the kinks out of her knees and back, privately enjoying the cracking sound both made after staying so long in her meditative pose. Her shoulders had just given a satisfying pop when she heard a voice from behind her.
"No rest for you yet, love." Punk Rocket's guitar narrowly missed her as she dove under the blow. "Just gonna give you a few guitar lessons. No need to panic!" He smiled maliciously.
Raven made for the ground as she pulled out her communicator. "Robin, I've found Punk…" The small device popped in her hand. It was then that she saw Mad Mod holding his cane like a gun pointing up at her from the ground.
"You've got to admit that shot was aces; hundred yards easy. EMP, my little duckie, ne need to worry just yet." He hopped over the parked car he had been using to steady his hands. "No more calls for you, though. Time for this bird to let us out of her little cage."
Raven had scarcely gotten into a fighting stance when she heard Punk Rocket's primal scream from above. She was having trouble just dodging the two villains attacks let alone finding an opening for a counter offensive. She needed to get out from between them. She darted at Mad Mod, figuring that he couldn't maneuver as quickly as Rocket could.
Mod took a swing as Raven went zipping past him and snarled as his swing swung through nothing. "Can't run forever, girlie. Best to come take your lumps now." And although spry he might be, Mod never had been a very fast runner. He was just catching up to Raven when he saw a lamppost flying along ready to clothesline him.
Raven was ready to glare at Punk Rocket to let him know he'd be next when the garish rocker struck a chord on his guitar to stop the lamppost flat. "Now, now, love. Can't have that now, can we? What say you just spring open your door and run away?"
"Fat chance." Raven said as she tried to grab the two villains between two large folds of upturned lawn. Mad Mod's cane tapped down into the grass as he pressed the button on top and the lawn was now a miniature of Trafalgar Square.
"Sorry, lassie, but I'm the only certified decorator here." He tapped his can on the edge of the curb and the Globe Theatre sprang up out of the street knocking Raven forward.
Punk Rocket took advantage of Raven tumbling towards them and slammed an F power chord for everything he was worth. Raven went flying in the opposite direction losing a shoe from the force of the blow. She collided with the wall of the building across the street and crumpled to the ground.
When she looked up Mad Mod and Punk Rocket were standing over her triumphantly. "Looks like the end of the line for you, girlie. How's about taking down that little spell that's got us all trapped here? Wouldn't want to beat it out of you, well, maybe just a little, but I can be reasonable." Mad Mod's breath smelled like stale fish and chips.
"Oy, what's with the mankey sock?"
Mod looked down at Raven's exposed foot. "Why on earth would you wear that rubbish? Now I want to beat our exit out of you even more."
"What? It's bloody brilliant! That sock couldn't match anything. That's almost worth letting her go."
"Letting her go? Are you mad? No. I am. And Moddie says this thing deserves to be burned and given a burial in the Thames."
"You stupid git, you don't destroy something that's already destroyed. You let it out and show it off. It's the most punk thing these Titan morons have ever done!"
"You want to give them the bleeding Royal Victorian Order, that's your lookout, but this little bird is going into her own cage after keeping us in this one!"
Both Mad Mod and Punk Rocket stared down at where Raven was supposed to be in quiet alarm. Before either of them could shout at the other for letting her get away Mod's cane and Rocket's guitar were engulfed in black as they shot up out of their hands.
They quickly bolted in opposite directions from each other only to be dragged back; Mad Mod tied up with a street sign and Punk Rocket bound head to foot in parking meters.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Mad Mod, prison name 'That Old British Dude', was stewing. Being captured because of that idiotic, tone-deaf, bleach-brained, moron was infuriating. Worse yet was that his new prison work assignment had him pulling weeds from the yard by hand.
Punk Rocket, prison name 'That Yong British Dude', wasn't fairing much better, nor cursing much less than the primped-up ponce he was now having to bunk with.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
Raven, prison name too crude for print, was sleeping on the couch having passed out almost as soon as she'd gotten home. The others were talking softly at the table to wind down from the day's events.
"And she caught them because they argued about her sock?" Beast Boy asked incredulously.
Robin nodded smiling while Cyborg laughed. "She says she's keeping them. Said they were her lucky socks now."
Beast Boy let out his own chuckle as he smiled over at the back of the couch. "She's so awesome right now."
Raven smiled lightly in her sleep.
~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./? ~!#$%^':",./?
And another chapter in the bag. I realized another reason why I was finding this story hard to write. It's because it's so (intentionally) disjointed. I wanted to have little slices of various happenings during the course of a year and I guess that means I'm just writing a bunch a one-shots that all relate to one another.
Realizing that didn't make writing this easier, but at least I know what I'm up against, right?
And I've made it over two weeks with writing at least some little thing every day. Woohoo! Now, if I can just keep it up for multiple months I think it'll become a real habit. Here's hoping.