Disclaimer: DC comics holds the trademark for the Batman Series and the Teen Titans, not me, I'm just a humble and slightly obsessed fan... Oh, and please note that this is is based on the Teen Titans Animated Series, I have no idea what goes on in the 'Go!' comic series, so please don't chew me off for inconsistencies. I also obviously don't own anything referenced to, the song "Riders on the Storm" for example, by The Doors, is not mine.
Note: My Batman's suit is based on the one portrayed by Dave Mckean, as seen in "Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth". I chose this because I like the terrifying and mysterious aspect of the shoulder spikes and the way he is always shown in shadow, it's just cool.
Ha! Well, my first reviewer caught me in a really good mood so I'll appease him by adding some Profiles for my original characters "The Anti-Titans". They will be directly within the story, but you won't have to actually read them to understand, just like you don't really need to much about the villains in the actual show. I mean, look at Mad Mod, where the heck did he come from? ...Ugh, well now I'm tempted to look that up. On with the violence and drama.
Chapter Two:
Riders on the Storm
Beep, beep, beep, beep...
Robin awoke to the sound of an electrocardiogram, moving steadily with the beat of his own heart. He didn't move, previous experience telling him that he was likely very, very badly injured. Two figures hovered above him, talking, one had a very familiar square jaw, and the other an unmistakable British accent.
"Bruce... Alfred?" The Boy Wonder rasped, blinking up at the square jawed one, who suddenly looked down, and a white smile split across his features.
"Don't worry Dick, you're going to be fine." Bruce Wayne reassured, putting a fond hand on his legal son's forehead.
Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeeb-
"Son, what's wrong!?" Bruce panicked, whipping around to look at the rapidly quickening heart monitor.
"Bruce..." The young hero's hand reached up shakily and swiped the billionaire's palm from his forehead. "My name is... Robin."
"...And don't call me son...."
-------
Within a few hours The Boy Wonder was on his feet again, despite all the objections from his old family, he needed to check on his new one. He was heavily bandaged, and could barely walk, but he still stubbornly refused any assistance as he made his way to the makeshift sick bay of the Batcave. There were all his comrades, his friends.
Cyborg was offline but otherwise repaired, Wayne manner didn't have a new energy cell to boot him up with though, so it would be a while before he'd be saying booyah again. Beast Boy had been moved to a hospital which Wayne Enterprises had a huge share in, having sustained several bone fractures and a moderate concussion, however with his slightly above-norm healing rate he was expected to make a full recovery. Raven had been up-linked to a machine much like Robin's, however the difference was that the half-demon girl was floating about six inches from her mattress, and her eyes fluttered around fearfully beneath their lids, her subconscious healing always gave her terrible nightmares.
Last was Starfire, Bruce had said that she'd sustained no real injuries, however she was terribly unstable and had almost made flambe of Alfred when she first awakened. She was staring at all of the old costumes Bruce still kept on display, the auxiliary suits, the original Batgirl's costume, and even the first costume Robin had ever worn. The Boy Wonder approached her quietly, creeping up behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders as best he could without straining himself.
"Star?"
The alien girl's only response was to throw herself into Robin's arms, immediately beginning to sob into his shoulder, squeezing his wounds uncomfortably - though he didn't object.
She mumbled something in her native language amidst all the shudders and the gasps, there was English mixed up in there as well, and as far as the lead Titan could tell, she was saying something about having lost her powers.
"Star, it's okay, what do you mean you've lost your powers?"
Starfire looked up into Robin's eyes, and then kissed him fiercely. When the two pulled away, the Tamaranean sniffled and said something in her language, shrugging.
"You... you can't speak English anymore!?"
-------
Squine's room was in no way a luxery suite, but it served it's purpose. There was a queen sized bed in the corner, because he liked to be able to see all of his room at one time, a microscopic bathroom/hiding spot through a secret door in the closet, which was full of boxes (Of... stuff"), coats, jackets, weapons and bandannas for every occasion. The wall paper was dark blue, but here and there it was splashed with bright crimson, and a very large section of the room including the only window was cordoned off with a huge tarp. In the other corner, facing the rest of the room because, again, the blue-eyed merc was very paranoid, was a desk with a laptop, as well as a printer, a telephone, and on the floor beside it was a mini-fridge. Squine spent many long hours in front of the screen, doing heaven-knows-what, practically inhaling energy drinks and power bars. Right about now the merc was browsing an auction site, trying to make the highest bid on an authentic Japanese Katana.
"Evening sweetheart." Red X grinned, appearing so suddenly that Squine jumped and within an instant had a gun pointed at the X-themed thief. "Put the pistol away, I'm just screwing with ya." X chuckled, taking a seat on the desk.
The blue-eyed warrior took a deep breath and clicked the safety of the weapon back on. "You shouldn't do that, what if my finger had slipped?" He mumbled, turning back to the computer screen.
"What are ya doin' cooped up in here?" The thief asked, ignoring his buddy's previous comment as he stretched and looked around his friend's spartan living space. "It's Friday night! C'mon, let's go out on the town, let's steal something!"
"I need to finish downloading this data while I still can, the order could come any day now, and then there'll be no chance."
"Why so serious?" X asked, cocking his mask-encased head. Squine looked at him long and hard, not grateful for the stirring of old memories.
"Oh god, not the silent treatment again." X exhaled, propping his head up on his elbow.
Suddenly the automatic door whooshed open and in walked Ravager, dressed in nothing but a bath robe and her trademark mask.
"You okay in here Squine? I'm sure I heard voices."
"What? No way, I'm just muttering to myself is all..." As the blue-eyed mercenary shook his head he managed to glance where Red X had been, and was happy that he was now gone. At the same time he struggled to avert his eyes as his leader turned to look at the tarp and her robe fell away from her right leg for a moment, exposing her entire glistening thigh for almost a full ten seconds.
"...Okay, well, uh, don't stress yourself out, take a break if the resumes become overwhelming."
"Of course."
The door whooshed closed again.
"Damn, what a babe." Red X said, suddenly back in the exact same spot he'd sat in before, Squine only barely flinched this time. "Dude, she wants you."
"You're crazy..." The merc mumbled, returning to his typing.
"She just came in here... in a bathrobe! She was still dripping for God's sake!"
"Uh huh."
"She totally wants you."
"Yep."
"I'm telling you man, if you would go out there and be social for once instead of hiding in here all day you'd be swimming in poon."
There was a pause, Squine's blue eyes met X's white lens, then they darted back to the screen as the monitor read "BID DECLINED, ITEM ALREADY PURCHASED". The merc sighed, chugged down the remnants of his Red Bull, and opened the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a remote control and a bag of make-ups. He clicked the remote and a section of his wall swung around to reveal a suit identical to Red X's. "Let's go steal something." He muttered as he stood up, beginning to rub white face-paint on his cheek.
-------
The Dark Knight stood overlooking Gotham City, as he often did, using the receiver built into his cowl's bat-ears to pick up on 911 calls and police scanners from all around the city.
"This is squad car ten, we have reports of a four-eighty-seven, subject is armed and dangerous, possibly deranged, request backup, over."
"Car ten this is car forty-two, what is your location? Over."
"Twenty-Second and Fifth."
The Caped Crusader swung into action.
-------
"See, you feel better now, don't you?" X chuckled as Squine weighed his newly-pilfered Katana in his hand.
"I'd feel great if Trickster hadn't pushed those poor sentries to their deaths..." Squine answered quietly, glancing at the psycho who completed their trio, a ruthless young man who used face-paint to create a Joker inspired look, with a white face, black outlines around his eyes, and lipstick around the failed Glasgow-smile he possessed. Instead of curving up to his ears, like an ordinary smile, the Trickster's deformity was only on the left side of his face, curling downwards, an eternal frown.
"People die, it's a fact of life, those guards had it coming... we all do." Trickster muttered, face shielded from the chilling wind by the upturned collar of his bloodied trench coat.
The other two thirds of the sortie glanced at each other, before all jumping as a black figure suddenly fell from above right in the center of them.
Batman sized up the lone thief before him as he slowly rose to his full height. The police report had accused him of Grand Theft, and the millionaire vigilante could tell they meant he'd stolen the priceless sword which he now held at the ready. The Thief wore a loose-fitting brown trench coat which looked and smelled like it had been stained with blood one too many times, beneath which was a tight-fitting suit black suit which the scan visor could not detect, and on the boy's face was a layer of makeup which was an eerily accurate off-shoot of the Joker's. Adorning the thief's forehead was a black bandanna with pirate logos about it.
"Drop the sword and any other weapons you have." The Dark Knight demanded calmly, watching the boy's every random twitch and struggling to make-out his frantic whispers.
"What do we do -- what do we do!?" The crazed villain muttered to himself.
"Attack! Kill him!" Trickster responded, grinning widely.
"No way Jose, high-tail it outta there, we're no match for the B-Man." Red X interjected.
"I concur..." The mad thief muttered to himself, leaping back before swan-diving off the building and into the streets below. The Caped Crusader followed suit, cloak elecrostatically whipping into shape as he approached the edge, but he stopped just in time to see his quarry tap the buckle of his belt and disappear instantly from view. Batman frowned.
-------
A few hours of fruitless searching for the schizophrenic later, the Bat, having just reverted back to Bruce Wayne, strode through his mansion, neatly folding the cuffs of his fresh shirt. He stopped when he noticed the hidden elevator to the Batcave left open, and there was a spot on the floor where it smelled like tea had been spilled. Alfred was asleep, so this had to be one of his young 'guests' doing... Wayne sighed, this had so far been a night full of unwanted surprises.
After changing back into his costume, Batman took the elevator back down into his lair, where he found his ward's team of juvenile delinquint heroes -- those of them who were actually in a state of health to actually be up and about -- sipping tea and nibbling biscuits around the Batcomputer, which was juggling several different images and biographies on it's varying screens.
The girl in the hood -- who didn't wear pants, Bruce noted unhappily -- looked up from her herbal tea as the Dark Knight approached. She wore a hood, which he didn't like, but they both wore long capes, so there was a level of respect between the two of them, despite the fact that the lavender haired enchantress thought Batman's outside-underwear was hilarious and he regarded her swimsuit-esque leotard as promiscuous. She looked back into the dregs at the bottom of her finished cup, and whatever she read in the soaked leaves made her frown. She psychically placed the cup with the other china on a table not three feet from her reach, raising an eyebrow at Batman's continued gaze.
The Caped Crusader broke off the temporal staring contest and approached the Batcomputer, in the chair of which sat Robin's small form, face creased in both pain and concentration as he poured over his intel and rubbed his bandages at the same time. Sitting on a counter nearby was the other female Titan, the one with long red hair and the unnatural-looking eyes. Batman nodded at her breifly, causing her to slink away slightly in fear.
"Friends of yours?" The Bat asked as he turned his gaze to the portraits and profiles of the various young warriors displayed on the monitors.
"I wish... They did this to us, but the plan was surely Deathstrike's." The Boy Wonder responded.
The Dark Knight's bottom lip parted from it's upstairs neighbor and curled into one of his trademark scowls. "Where'd you get all this info?"
"One of them left a business card of sorts on Raven, I hacked the E-mail address and found my way onto an underground mercenary hiring website, found these 'resumes' there."
"Which one?"
Raven stepped forward and pointed to the top left corner, a blue-eyed assassin stared stoically out of it. "He... wasn't trying to hurt me, not really, I think he meant to help us, but I was hit before he could do anything, suppose he didn't want to take on his team alone."
"It seems that way." Robin continued, "The E-mail address was empty of messages or contacts, however there was one item in the drafts folder-"
"The link to Merc-Net."
"Exactly."
Raven sighed quietly and tapped the Batman on his shoulder, who stepped back from the console he was leaning over to tower over her. Undaunted, the spellcaster asked the question with her usual dry tone. "You wouldn't happen to have anything to read around here, would you?"
Silently the Bat flicked a switch and a bookcase elevated itself out of the floor, with texts marked with all sorts of Dark Runes and filled with unholy incantations, before she could grab one however, he stabbed a finger in her direction. "Perhaps you'll get more of a thrill out of them than I did, but don't damage them."
"Of course."
There was a pause as her purple irises darted up to his shadowy visage.
"...Sir."
The Dark Knight and his ward began committing the profiles of their new enemies to memory as Raven browsed the devilish library and Starfire continued to sit quietly, unable to contribute or even understand.
Name:
Sally Demecko
Age:
Unknown, possibly anywhere from nineteen to mid-twenties
Date of Birth:
April 18
Place of Birth:
Slovakia
Codename/Alias:
Witch
Abilities:
-Emotional manipulation of other people as long as she maintains physical contact.
-Proficient in many forms of Dark Magic.
-Capable hand-to-hand fighter.
Characteristics:
Height of exactly five feet, weight deemed unimportant, shoulder-length brown hair dyed with purple streaks, green eyes. Missing an ear from the initiation ritual of her cult, has many other scars from her time as a Satanic devotee. Possesses a very short, almost pudgy or stocky build.
File:
Denham was born into a league of assassins for the Slovak government, quickly gaining favour in many circles for her charm and skill. She dabbled in the dark arts as well as demon worship during her down-time, and as such has now become well-versed in the area of hexes and curses. She was sought out by Mr. Wilson Slade specifically for her ability to sap the will of others, and also as a fail-safe in the case of a traitor amongst his midst. She has access to spells which allow her to become nigh invincible to someone without their own knowledge of dark magic, and as such she is paid a much more copious amount than her fellows, because she has the ability to eliminate any one of them should her employer give the word.
Specialization:
Infiltration, espionage, team support and enemy deterrent.
Miscellaneous information:
A master of torture and the workings of the human mind. Considered to be able to speak and understand all manner of speech through her psychic powers, including the ability to sense the feelings and thoughts of most animals.
Name:
Known as Crane (An adaptation of 'Craneo' his name back home)
Age:
Claims to be immortal
Date of Birth:
Unknown
Place of Birth:
Mexico
Codename/Alias:
Skull
Abilities:
-Strength to the magnitude of Superhuman class 50, able to lift a maximum of fifty tons at peak strength, but his powers wax and wane with connection to .
-Regenerative healing factor, in addition to a nigh unbreakable muscle structure, his flesh is like that of any human being, however his muscular system has never been bypassed by any form of weaponry.
-Tactile control of the green tendrils which serve as 'hair' on his head and neck.
-Resistance to most magic, including mind-reading and control.
-Well versed in combat after a century of muggings and skirmishes
-The very sight of him stimulates a primal instinct of fear in most human beings, making him incredibly intimidating.
Characteristics:
Height of approximately eight feet, weight of approximately six hundred pounds, head encased in an irremovable metallic skull which has apparently caused his mutation. Lime green tendrils protrude from his scalp and the end of his neck, glowing green eyes, exhales a noxious green gas capable of knocking out people with prolonged exposure. Does not possess anythig even resembling body hair besides the tendrils.
File:
The accidental offspring of a teenage prostitute, Skull was apparently abandoned in the wilderness as a child, where he grew to unnatural size, and preyed on passing caravans for food and entertainment. Purportedly he one day robbed an old witch selling dark artifacts, and was cursed by the Skull of Decay, by which he cannot die, but is forced to bear witness as the rest of the world does around him. This does not seem to bother him much however, as he actually enjoys watching civilizations fail and environments die. He was hired by Slade because it's only natural to want an invincible soldier, and one who does not ask questions.
Specialization:
Slaughter
Miscellaneous information:
Possesses a remarkably weak stomach and immune system, usually he needs not eat or drink, but if he does ingest something spoiled he becomes incredibly sick. Speaks English and Spanish fluently.
Name:
Angelica Kroenen
Age:
Nineteen
Date of Birth:
September Thirtieth
Place of Birth:
Germany
Codename/Alias:
Snow Storm
Abilities:
-Manipulation of magnetism and electricity
-Bodily generation of electrical power
-Flight based on magnetism and friction
-Absorption of electricity
-Ability to empower others with energy.
Characteristics:
Height of about five feet six inches, weight of one hundred twelve pounds. Waist-length black hair, light brown eyes. When charged her hair frizzes and her veins pop. Possesses electrical scars along her back trailing along the area of her spinal cord, as well as on her stomach and on her scalp (the last being mostly hidden by her hair). Very skinny, almost depraved build.
File:
Born and raised in Northern Germany, Snow never had any clue that she was a metahuman until the day she went on vacation at fourteen, her parents took her to the UK, where she promptly fell ill, claiming that she missed the cold weather. One day, at her fever's peak, she stepped into a large puddle on a rainy day and electrocuted everyone for blocks around, including her parents. The deaths continued for hours, as people tried to help her, only to be fried upon coming near. She returned to Germany after her powers temporarily burned themselves out, she found that her powers were considerably weaker in the cold air, and completely inactive when in snow. Mind shattered, she repressed the memories of the tragedy she'd created and became Snow Storm, human generator and incredibly dangerous mercenary.
Specialization:
Battling units armoured in metal, like tanks, heavy infantry and aircraft. CAUTION: Not suited for battles with high numbers of friendlies/civilians, her powers are almost random in output strength and prone to accidental discharges.
Miscellaneous information:
Takes life day-by-day, uncaring of what has or will happen, the only constants she creates for herself are the kinships with her team. Speaks German and broken, heavily accented English.
Name:
Known only as Squine
Age:
Nineteen (Apparently)
Date of Birth:
December ninth (According to him)
Place of Birth:
The Canary Islands (Purportedly)
Codename:
N/A
Abilities:
-Unnatural strength to the magnitude of peak human levels, able to lift between two hundred and eight hundred pounds depending on his overall state of mind.
-Conscious absorption of all manner of energies, including but not limited to electricity, heat and radiation.
-Can leech a person's memories out of their head by placing both hands on the enemy's temples and concentrating. The process is agonizing for the victim and very strenuous on Squine. On the other hand, he can also give people memories, thoughts, or images in the same fashion, however in this case it hurts Squine instead.
-Immunity to mind reading and mind control as well as psychic detection, high resistance to magical and energy based damage.
-Ability to obtain all manner of skills by extracting them from the minds of others, among those he has taken already are: CQB Hand-to-Hand fighting techniques, near-mastery of Filipino Knife fighting, a basic knowledge of the martial art Wong Chu, and general knowledge of firearms and other weaponry.
-Limited flight
Characteristics:
Height of five feet, eleven inches. Weight of approximately one hundred and ninety pounds. Shoulder-length curly black hair which is browning from sun exposure, luminous blue eyes which glow brightest when experiencing extreme emotion, ethnically tan-coloured skin. Large, naturally strong build. Has a history of old scars illustrating across his body, most notably the great tears on his back, the scars from a shotgun blast on his torso, and his missing left nipple.
File:
Squine's past is filled with nonsensical contradictions and holes, it would be unwise to believe anything he says about... anything. It should be taken into consideration however that he is a fierce warrior, and should not be judged based on his unstable state of mind. In fact previous employers have stated that his semi-mania has been a boon on his work rather than a hindrance. No trace of him can be located outside of his Mercenary record, and as such the nature of his powers is unknown.
Specialization:
Shoot-outs, one-on-one/hand to hand combat, combat against those who may utilize psychic tactics. Master of infiltration.
Miscellaneous Information:
It should be made clear that Squine's personality has atrophied over the years because of his powers; all the memories he saps eventually begin to overwrite his own. The best example of this is his claim of having fought with the Nazis in WWII, it's preposterous, but he call recall it lividly because he must have absorbed the memory from a real ex-Nazi. Currently speaks Spanish, English, German, Russian, French, and Filipino. (Most of these languages were leeched from the minds of those who already spoke them fluently.)
The two night owls glanced at each other through their masks, there was something off about all of this. If Robin could trace an E-mail address to a mercenary catalog... then it would stand to reason that Deathstrike -- Slade -- could do that and more.
"We go to Code Black." The Bat muttered, cursing his stupidity at not realizing sooner.
"Get up!" Robin shouted, rousing Starfire and snapping Raven's book closed.
"What?" The demon-child asked, having not been paying attention.
All eyes shifted to the Batcomputer's largest monitor. INTRUDER APPROACHING, was in bold red letters on the screen's border, then it automatically switched to the video feed of five figures approaching the Manor slowly on foot. As Batman called Alfred down the Boy Wonder activated the microphones hidden about the grounds.
"Riders on the storm..." An unstable-sounding voice sung, muffled slightly by the pouring rain and humming the accompanying tune. Raven recognized this instantly as Squine as he turned and looked directly into the camera lens, a broad grin spreading across his dripping features, and the rest of his team gathered behind him, silhouettes against the moonlight.
"There's a killer on the road..."