Author's Notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! Here's wishing you all the best of luck in 2008, hope you make it a good one.

First thing's first. Rating change. This fic is now rated M, and will remain that way probably until the end. It's five years later, our characters are all grown up and the world they now live in will reflect that. The M rating is for graphic language, violence, suggested adult themes, and drug and alcohol abuse. And all in just this one chapter! I know a lot of times these M rated fics can feel forced and mature just for being mature's sake, but I tried to make it so that the swearing and M rated themes feel natural for the story's progression. I promise I won't be too excessive, and honestly, this chapter will probably be the worst. The following chapters won't be anywhere near this one, maybe just some swearing here and there. Anyway sorry for keeping you, and once again a special thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed this story. Here we go!


Five Years Later

Soundtrack: "The Science of Selling Yourself Short" – Less Than Jake

The grainy sound of a trumpet horn-line being played through the speakers of a cell phone breaks the silence of an otherwise placid domicile.

"Now I've come to my senses, that I've become senseless

And I could give you lessons, how to ruin your friendships

Every last conviction, I've smoked them all away

I drank my frustrations, down the drain out of the way"

"Unngh. Wha?" Gar Logan lazily regains conciseness, his head still pounding from the night before. 'Shit…' he thought, 'where the hell is that phone?' He rolled out of his bed, literally, since his bed was just a futon mattress on the floor of his room. With all the speed of a two-toed sloth, he began rummaging through the various piles of clean and dirty clothes strewn across his bedroom floor. His phone continued to ring.

"So I sit and wait and wonder, does anyone else feel like me?

Someone so tired of their routine, and disappearing self-esteem

I'll sing along, I'm the king of catastrophes!

Just sing a-long, yeah with every emergency!

I'm so far gone, that deep down inside

I think its fine by me

That I'm my own worst enemy"

"WHERE ARE YOU?!" He demands, out of his inanimate object. He receives no answer, and his ring-tone continues to play, seemingly out of nowhere.

"I could be an expert, on co-dependency

And I could write the best book, on underage tragedy"

Finally, he notices one of his piles of clothes moving ever so slightly. He tears it apart and finds his phone, ringing and vibrating, under it. Before he answers, Gar glances at the screen to see who would have the gall to call him so early. It's Gregor, his shift manager from work.

"Gregor, what the hell, dude? Do you know what time it is?"

"It's half past noon, Gar. Did you know what time it was?"

He pauses. Apparently he did not. "Well, what do you want?" he growls, "My shift doesn't start until four."

"No, dumbass, your shift starts at four tomorrow. Today you switched shifts with Marian so you could have Saturday night off. Remember?"

'Shit.' Gregor was right. "Aw, dude I'm so sor-"

"Can it. Don't want to hear it. You've got twenty minutes to get here before I call our boss and tell him what happened. Just be glad I covered for you for as long as I did."

"You're a saint, Gregor! They ought to name a preschool after you! See you in twenty!"

The young man sighs as he clicks his phone off. 'So much for sleeping in,' he thinks to himself. 'God…my head. Was that party last night? No…that was the other night. Shit. Why am I so hung over? What did I do last night?' He wouldn't remember it until much later, but he had actually decided to stay home and watch tv the night before. Then, right as he was getting bored and about ready to call it a night, his three roommates came home, extremely drunk. The trio convinced Gar to take whiskey shots with them, since he had "missed out" on the night's festivities. After four shots and a cannonball, Gar stumbled off to his room to pass out face-down on his mattress.

"Nnnnghnnn." Gar let out a groan as he walked over to a small night-stand in the corner of his room. 'I need a wake and bake.' He thought as he reached down to pick an item up off the night stand. It was a glass bong, about a foot high, green and purple in color with a translucent neck. The weed in the bowl was only half-smoked, leftovers from the night before, apparently. Using his thumb, he packs the bowl in tight then a flick of his lighter like a snap of the fingers and the chamber of the water pipe begins to fill with a thick, white smoke. As he exhales, Gar feels an all too familiar haze comfortably filling his consciousness.

He walks down the hallway and into the bathroom. Stepping into the shower, he realizes he still can't get that song out of his head.

"I been spending my time, at the local liquor store

And I been sleeping nightly, on my best friend's kitchen floor

So I sit and wait and wonder, does anyone else feel like me?

I'm so overdosed on apathy, and burnt out on sympathy"

The hot water hits his body like a wave of life. He finally feels like a functioning human being. 'Ugh. It's going to be a long day…'

"I'll sing along, I'm the king of catastrophes!

Just sing a-long, yeah with every emergency!

I'm so far gone, that deep down inside

I think its fine by me

That I'm my own worst enemy

Let the meaning slip away

Lost my faith in another day

Self deprecation seems ok,

I never thought I'd make it anyway"

It had been his ringtone for years, and as much as he thought about changing it, it was practically the damn soundtrack to his life. It felt fitting. 'How did this become my life?' he thought. Things weren't always this way for the former hero, but then again, that was a long time ago. Back in his room, he starts to get dressed. He pulls on a pair of black jeans, then lazily crawls into a faded, blue Ramones t-shirt with the words "Gabba Gabba Hey!" across the chest. He spends a few seconds digging around his closet-floor until he finds what he was looking for; his favorite hat. It was an old cap with the colors and logo of the New Orleans Saints on it. Sure, they haven't had a good season in six long years but he liked it nonetheless. It was comfortable, and in more ways than one. It was stretchy, soft, and worn in, and also, well, he just wasn't feeling like much of a winner these days anyway. He turns the hat backwards and pulls it down onto his head, a tuft of dark green hair jutting out from beneath it.

On his way out to the living room door, Gar took a good look around him. The place was a war-zone. Empty pizza boxes and beer bottles for as far as the eye could see. Sleeping among the filth and litter were two of Gar's roommates, Nils and Sully. Sully was on the couch, a hand on his beer-belly, the other drooped off the side of the sofa. Nils was on the floor, on his back with both arms over his face. Next to him was a half-eaten bag of Cheetos and a small white remote control. As he stepped over him to leave, Gar inspected the remote further. "Aw, what the fuck!" He kicks Nils lightly, in his side. "Dude! What the hell, man?! If you're gonna play my Wii at least wipe all the Cheeto grease off your stupid fingers!"

Nils lets out a groan, but shows no signs of getting up or apologizing. "Nnnh. Screw you, man."

Gar lets out a huff in defeat. 'No sense getting all riled up,' he tells himself, 'you're already late for work. Just let it go. You can clean it when you get home.'

The past five years haven't been very kind to Gar, or rather, for the past five years Gar hasn't been very kind to himself. Forever the self-conscious one, Gar found his self-esteem at an all time low when forced to live out on his own. He was happy at first. After leaving Jump City, he decided to stay in California but migrate a bit to the south. Long Beach was his final destination and when he first arrived, he was in paradise. It was girls in bikinis and surfing all day and girls in mini-skirts and partying all night. He had, after all, just saved the world. He was a hero, a celebrity. Beast Boy seemed to be riding high and living life in the fast lane. Of course no one who's ever lived that way has ever had a story that ends in anything but tragedy. After a while, the people in the LA "it" scene started to realize that it had been a long time since Beast Boy had actually done anything. His novelty soon wore off and his shooting star began to burn out.

Like the song said, Beast Boy always had been his own worst enemy. He was always so unsure of himself, always so afraid of what everyone would think of him. One would think that after stepping up to lead a rag-tag team of Titans against the Brain, Beast Boy's self-confidence problems would have come to an end, but it was just the opposite. They were worse than ever before. Now instead of feeling like he would never live up to the standards of his friends, he was afraid he would never be able to live up to his former self. He had, after all, saved the world. He defeated the Brain with his own two hands/paws/claws/wings. How could he ever top that? He was so terrified of failing that he never let himself even try.

He kept in close contact with the other former Titans for a bit, but then started to lose touch, as he became more and more embarrassed of what his life had become. After a while he stopped answering their calls, or he'd answer and then pretend that something would come up and he'd have to cut the conversation short. He just couldn't bear the burden of being the only failure. Everyone else seemed to be doing great. Starfire was the grand-ruler of Tamaran, ushering in a new wave of peace and prosperity unlike anything the warrior-race had ever seen before. Beast Boy hadn't talked to her in over three years. She used to call, or send a royal messenger periodically, but stopped after a while. It was understandable; she was a busy monarch, after all. And his best friend Cyborg, he was the real hero in the big-time. A couple years ago Cyborg was invited into the Justice League and was currently mentoring under his hero, Mr. Terrific. Then there was Raven and Robin. They had retired completely from the super hero life, and were now happily married and living up-coast in Star City. Beast Boy was hurt when he first heard that they had gotten married, since he hadn't been invited to any wedding, but felt a little better when they told him they had eloped at the spur of the moment while in Europe and no one was there but the two of them. Starfire and Cyborg were furious, of course, but they got over it. Gar was just happy to not feel so excluded. When Gar really thought about it, he realized it was Raven and Robin that he envied the most. They never sought out any fame or fortune, but now lived perhaps the richest lives. Robin was a cop of some sort, if Gar recalled correctly. Maybe a detective? And Raven, Raven was a…librarian…or something? He couldn't quite remember. All he knew was that they were happy. He wished he could be that happy. All he had anymore were these numb, empty days. 'Well,' he thought, as he rode to work on his salt-crusted Vespa, 'maybe today will be different…'


Star City:

A cold, northern breeze whips through the city as a man with a sniper rifle sits patiently on a roof-top. The wind doesn't bother him, he can't feel anything through his mask, and even if he did, a cold wind would probably be a warm embrace for his even colder heart. The man was a professional. He had no empathy for life. If someone was in his way, he would have to take them out. "It's like eating," he'd always say, "you gotta eat to survive, but if you stop and try to think about every single animal that died so you could get fat, well, you'd probably go fuckin' nuts. You can't think about that shit. You just gotta do it. Couldn't be simpler."

The man wore a red uniform, and from a distance it would appear to be normal spandex, but it was actually an advanced, super-thin Kevlar. His boots and gauntlets were gray, and mounted on his wrists were small semi-automatic pistols. Matching his boots and gloves were his mask and chest-plate, also gray. His mask covered his entire head and was smooth and plain, with no distinguishing markings or designs. His left eye was exposed while his right was covered by a cross-hair scope. The man's birth name was Floyd Lawton, but more commonly went by the name of Deadshot. It was unclear whether Lawton was a true meta-human or not. He posses no physical or mental powers, yet there was one thing that was always true about him. He never missed. Normally an assassin for hire, this time Deadshot was here in Star City on a personal errand.

He had his gaze fixed steadily on the intersection below him and smiled under his mask as he watched a large armored van turn a corner onto the street below him. "Half past noon, right on time." He lifts the rifle up to position and looks into the scope. As he sets his sights on one of the tires, he goes over the calculations in his head one more time to be sure. 'Front-wheel drive, so I hit the front left tire at a 40 degree angle, it spins out clock-wise a hundred and eighty degrees and has a rear-end collision with the streetlight right below me. Then two armor-piercing rounds straight down into the center of the cab to scare the driver and passenger out their respective doors. Once they're in the open, I blow out their ankles from the front, causing them to fall face-down like they were shot from the back. Once they hit the ground, I tap 'em each through the top of the head to make sure they stay down. By this time, their buddies in the back of the van should have seen them gone down through the reverse rear view mirrors. They'll open the money doors, and jump out, guns drawn facing the wrong direction. One bullet through the back of each of their skulls and I walk out of here with a cool 20-mil. Easiest money I ever made.'

He fires the first shot from his sniper rifle. KAPOW! The tire blows out and the driver instinctively slams on the breaks. The tires screeched as the van spins out, clockwise a hundred and eighty degrees. KA-RASH! Glass shards showered the street as the rear end of the van smashed into a streetlight, bending it in half. Deadshot put down his rifle and cocked his wrist pistols, ready to fire the two shots into the cab.

"Hey," a voice says from behind him. "You planning on robbing that armored car?"

Without a word, Deadshot swiftly turns around and unloads two clips at the spot where the owner of the voice was standing. He disappeared before the bullets hit him and reappeared to the right. His costume was nearly all black, with gray boots and gloves. He wore a cape, black on the outside, and gray on the inside. His mask was a white skull-shape and the only distinctive marking on his outfit was a red 'X' slashed across his chest.

Deadshot eyes his opponent down. "Who the fuck are you supposed to be?"

"The name's Red X, and that money down there is mine. I came here to steal it."

Lawton barks out a laugh. "Nice try, kid, but you're too late. I was here first, and trust me, you don't want to step into my crosshairs. Now be a good little rugrat and scram, huh? Daddy's got work to do."

"I don't think so, Deadshot. That money is mine."

"You know, kid, that mark on your chest makes a pretty good target. Not that I need one, it just makes it that much easier."

"Well then, what are you waiting for?" He taps the red design with his index and middle finger. "X marks the spot."


"Hey. Welcome to the 7-11. You find everything alright?" He says the words like a robot, devoid of all meaning or emotion.

"Uh, yeah, whatever man. I'm just getting this hot-dog."

Gar sighed at the teen holding the hot-dog in front of him. The younger ones always gave him lip. "Fine. That'll be $2.07."

The kid looked at Gar like he had just asked him an algebra problem. "What? But it says the hot-dogs are 99 cents!"

He sighs again. "No. The regular hot-dogs are 99 cents. You're holding a quarter-pound Big Bite hot dog. Those are a buck-ninety-nine. With tax, it comes out to $2.07. You gonna dish it out, or you want me to get you a regular, 99 cents hot-dog?"

The kid stares, as if he were contemplating the meaning of life. Then he replies, "Naw man, I'll just get this one. But you guys should really take down that 99 cents sign. It's false advertising."

He throws his hands up in desperation. "Dude! It's not false advertising, you just grabbed the wrong hot-dog! Use your brain next time!"

"Psh. Whatever, man."

As the kid walks out of the store, Gar closes his eyes and brings his hand up to cover his face. With his thumb and middle finger, he starts to massage his temples. From behind the blind veil of his hand, he hears a soft giggle.

"Well that looks like a fun job."

He lowers his hand and opens his eyes to see the face of his next tormentor. To Gar's surprise, standing there in front of him was a girl. A cute girl. Blonde hair, blue eyes, at first glance she seemed like the typical California beach bunny. But there was something different about her. She had genuine kindness in her eyes, and she seemed to shine from the inside out with innocence and an inner beauty. Besides, he had a thing for blondes. Gar gave her his best smile. "Yeah, I'm thinking about making it my professional, life-long career."

"Heh. Well don't worry. I'm not much of a hot-dog eater. Do you know what they put in those things?"

"Tell me about it! I try to tell people all the time, but no one wants to hear it." He looked down at her items, a cup of coffee and a pack of gum. "This all?" he asked.

"Actually, could I also get a pack of Newports?" she asked pointing to the cigarettes behind him.

He reached back to grab the box and casually placed it down in front of him. "Tsk. Those things'll kill ya, you know."

She smiles warmly at him. "Oh they're not for me. They're for my bitchy boss, so hey, here's hoping they work."

Gar glanced quickly behind her to make sure there wasn't anyone else in line. There weren't. He smiled, he had time to talk. "So you work around here?"

"Yeah, I work over at the record store down the street."

"The Bleeding Ear?"

"That's the one."

"No way! My roommates and I go there all the time! I think I got this shirt there…"

'I cant remember the last time I smiled so much…' the girl thought to herself as she looked into the cute, green boy's eyes. "I know," she says blushing slightly, "I've seen you, I was always…you know, too shy to say anything."

"Heh. There's no reason to be shy around me. I'm nobody..."

"Uh, huh." The girl smirked. She wasn't convinced. "I like your necklace." She said, pointing to the pendant dangling from Gar's neck. It was a beautiful azure stone set inside an exotic-looking seashell, hanging from a hemp rope.

Gar smiled as he looked down at it. "It's Atlantean, you know."

"Shut up!"

He felt his grin stretch from ear to ear. "I'm serious. A buddy of mine lives down there." He lifted the shell up with his fingers. "It's actually a royal symbol of trust."

"No way. You're lying." She looks at him slyly.

He shrugs. "You're right. I bought it from some lady down on the boardwalk. But it's a good story, huh?" It really was from Atlantis, a gift from his friend Aqualad, but whether or not the girl believed him didn't matter at this point. She was smiling, and that was all that Gar cared about.

"So what's your name?" she asks him sweetly.

'Game, set, and match.' "My name's Gar. What about you, pretty girl? What's your name?"

A rose hue tints her cheeks. "My name's Cassie. It's nice to meet you, Gar."

The two are broken out of their perfect little world as the door to the 7-11 jingles and Gar's third roommate walks in. "Sup, Odie." He says to Gar.

"Hey, Parker." Parker had been working at the 7-11 longer than Gar, and he was the one who got him the job in the first place.

"Where's Gregor?"

"He's in the back, reading my comics. He was pissed he had to cover for me this morning, so I told him I'd handle register for the afternoon."

Parker raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What comics does he have?"

Gar shrugs. "I don't know. I gave him a bunch. Madman and the Atomics present Atomic Comics, Walking Dead, some others, I can't remember what."

Parker shrugged back, nonchalantly. "Cool. Well hey, I'm gonna go clock in and then I'll go 'organize the store-room'" As he said those last words, he pinched his index finger and thumb together and brought them up to his lips, motioning that he was actually planning on having a smoke rather than do any kind of work.

After Parker left through the 'Employees Only' door, Cassie turned to Gar and said, "Odie? Why'd he call you that?"

A sigh and roll of the eyes. "My name is kinda…short for… Garfield."

She snorts out a laugh. "HAH! No way! Dude, that's adorable."

"Ya think?"

"Mmhmm. Hey. So can I ask you a question?"

"That depends. You gonna ask me out or you gonna ask me why I'm green?"

The rose tint in her cheeks turned a deep red. "How about both?"

"Both's good." It was a long time since he had been this happy to talk to someone, and even longer since he'd flirted with a girl who wasn't too drunk to walk. "I got a skin disorder. It's called Sakutia. It's pretty rare, but not as rare as you'd think. There've even been some famous people with it. Works out good for me, people see me on the street, think I'm them and then I get a free ride on the coattails."

"Uh huh." She was still unconvinced. "You're him, aren't you?"

"Who? Mr. January in the 'Men of Long Beach' calendar? Why yes, I am. Thanks for noticing."

She laughs. "No, stop it. You know who I mean. You're that super hero. Beast Boy. From the Teen Titans."

He shakes his head sadly. "Sorry. That'd be cool and all, but I'm not him."

"Oh come on. Atlantis. Sakutia. There's no way you couldn't be him!"

"Would it really matter if I was?" he says almost sullenly.

"No…" she breaks eye contact and looks down to the counter. "But it would be pretty cool if you were him, cause then I could thank you for saving my life."

Now that caught his attention. "I saved your life?"

She beamed and her eyes twinkled with a look that said 'I knew it!' "Well, from the way I understand it, you kinda saved us all. More than once."

Now it was Gar's turn to look away. "Yeah, well…that was a long time ago. I'm not that guy anymore. Now I'm just Gar. I work at a 7-11 and I live with three assholes."

"Do you still use your powers? Could you show me?" Cassie felt like a five year old seeing her first magician but she didn't care.

He chuckled sadly. "No…I…I don't change anymore."

"Whaaat? Are you serious? If I could turn into a bird, I'd fly everywhere!"

"Yeah…I know…it's just…using my powers, it reminds me of what things used to be, you know? Kind of brings how much things suck right now into focus a little more."

She gave him a warm, reassuring look. "Hey, things aren't so bad. They could always be worse."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So you really don't use your powers at all?"

He sighs. "I used to, I mean, you know as a party trick, while really drunk. But one night…ah….things got kinda out of hand…yeah. I don't do that anymore."

"Did you hurt someone?"

"Oh, no. No way. It was this one party at my house, I was totally plastered and there was this girl…I think what we did…we definitely broke some laws…" Once Gar realized he had said those words out loud, he was horrified. 'Oh fuck. Why did I tell her that? Now she's gonna be out of here faster than-'

But Cassie only smiled. "Yikes. I can see why you wouldn't want to use them. But so you don't change into animals anymore. That's cool. You're still really cute." She winked at him playfully.

Gar couldn't believe his luck. "So about that date…"

Cassie let out a small giggle. "Hee. You have anything specific in mind?"

He grins. "There's this concert at the House of Blues on Saturday. Streetlight Manifesto, they're this really killer ska band, half of them used to be in Catch 22 back when Catch 22 was good. Anyway, I was going to go by myself, but maybe you'd want to come with me? Keep me from being a big loser?"

"I'd love to, Gar. I think that'd be a lot of fun. I've never been to one of their shows, but they come through at least once a year. They're not from Cali, are they?"

"Nah, they're actually from New Jersey. A good friend of mine is from Gotham, he turned me on to them after I told him I liked ska."

"That's cool. I only ever heard their first album, but I loved it."

"Yeah, me too. They released 'Somewhere in the Between' back in '07. At first I didn't think it was as good as 'Everything Goes Numb', but after listening to it a few times through I could appreciate it more. It's composed really tightly, catchy, dark lyrics contrasted by the upbeat music. Only shame is it doesn't have any song quite as memorable as-"

"A moment of Silence."

"A moment of Silence."

"Jinx!" Cassie said, jokingly. "Now you owe me a soda."

"How about I buy you a coffee instead?"

"Nice try, green-jeans but I already bought a coffee." She holds up the cup of 7-11 coffee she purchased from him.

Gar frowns. "No. What you bought is a cup of caffeinated sludge-water with sugar and cream. I'm talking about real coffee. I know a place not far from here that makes a killer soy chai latte."

Her eyes widen with surprise. "How did you know I love soy lattes??"

Gar beamed. He didn't. "Call it a hunch, I guess. Plus, they're my favorite too. So whaddya say? We meet up later; grab some coffee, maybe talk some more about Saturday. Maybe try and get to know each other a little more?"

"That sounds great."

"Well, I get off at 6, what about you? You said you were picking up smokes for your boss, are you still working today?"

A wave of pure horror washes over the blonde girl's face. "Oh my god! Shit! I've been on my lunch break, I was only supposed to take half an hour! Melanie's gonna kill me! Gar, I'm so sorry, I gotta run, but I'd still really like to have that coffee tonight. Do you have a car?"

"Yeah, totally…except you know…it's more of a scooter than a car-car."

"Ha. You're so cute. Well, I've got my car, so don't worry about it. I get off work at eight. Want to meet me outside the 'Ear'?"

"Sure. Eight it is."

As she was rushing out the door, Cassie turned and gave him another wink and a wave. It was the kind of wave that only girls do, where the hand stays still and only the fingers move up and down, slightly. Gar found it oddly fetching.

He returned the wink and tipped his imaginary hat to her with his hand. Things, it seemed, were finally looking up.

Soundtrack:"Meet Me Here Later" – Astronautalis


Soundtrack: "Blood Born Rejects" – The Infected

Like a showdown scene in an old western, the two masked criminals stood in a dead-lock. Finally, Red X made the first move. A rookie mistake. He shuffled to his left, then spun and rolled to his right, in an attempt to juke out Deadshot and catch him by surprise. For his efforts, Red X received a bullet in his foot.

"AUGH."

Deadshot, ever calm and collected didn't move his feet or anything other than his arms, really. The firearms mounted to his wrists flashed with each shot and spat out empty shell casings like watermelon seeds. Deadshot never aimed for where his target was, he predicted where he would be next and aimed there. "Give it up, kid. You got no chance. I've been doing this a lot longer than you."

"Yeah…" Red X grits his teeth through the pain in his foot, his molars grinding each other into dust. "But you've never fought anyone like me before." He presses a button on his gauntlet to activate his Zinothium-fueled powers. He extends his index and middle fingers on each hand and reaches up, spreading both arms into the air. The pose was very Nixon-esq, but with his fingers closed, rather than in two peace signs. He then brings both arms down in a hard criss-cross motion, causing a giant Zinothium-'x' to form out of thin air.

"What the fuck…?" Deadshot had never seen Zinothium-based weapons before. 'This could be a problem…' he thought. His opponent kicked the giant 'x', sending it flying at him. Lawton strafed to the side, dodging it.

Although it was capable of capturing him, the first x was meant as a decoy. Taking his chance to strike, Red X activated two smaller x's on the top of each of his forearms. They began to spin furiously, taking the shape of two spinning round blades. He rushed at Deadshot, twirling his arms in large, powerful circles. Deadshot was preparing to guard against the blades on his arms, so Red X swept his legs out from other him with a kick. With the assassin's back to the ground, X continued his attack.

A blade comes crashing down to the right, Lawton rolls to the left. The other blade comes for his head, so he rolls back to the right. He glances at X's stance and sees his opening. He lifts up his right arm to shoot out X's kneecap.

'Perfect,' Red X thought as Lawton exposed one of his firearms. With a casual flick of the wrist, X cuts the wrist-pistol in two, drawing blood from the gunman's arm.

"Aagh!" Instinctively, he reaches with his left hand to cover to the wound on his right. A mistake, he realizes just a little too late. With his second wrist-blaster now exposed, X pulls his right arm down in a cross-diagonal motion, sending the gun falling to the ground in a small cascade of blood. "Son of a bitch! Aggh...Fuck!"

His foe currently incapacitated, Red X decided to peer over the edge of the roof, to see if there was still a chance at collecting his prize. Before he even made it to the edge, he could see the flash of red and blue lights. 'Shit. So much for that.' He growled a little and kicked Deadshot in the ribs. It made him feel a little better. He summoned a large 'x' and threw it off the roof, as it fell, it gained size and each end connected itself to something around it. A streetlight, a mailbox, the building, a parked taxi-cab. Once connected it stretched out and lay slack, like a giant red hammock. He wrapped the bleeding assassin up like a cocoon in another 'x' and carried him to the edge.

"I won't forget this you little shit," Deadshot croaked. "You may have caught me by surprise this time, but next time I'll be ready for you and your little bag of tricks."

"Uh huh. Tell it to your friends down there. Here, I'll help you get up close and personal." With that he heaved and threw Deadshot from the roof.

"AAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh…" Deadshot free-fell until he landed in the safety net provided by Red X.

The startled cops jumped back as the wanted criminal literally fell into their laps. "What the hell? Is that Floyd Lawton?"

Suddenly a second item fell from the rooftop and landed on Deadshot's chest. "OOF!" It was his sniper rifle. The police officers looked up to the rooftop for a glance of the mystery bombardier. They turned quickly enough to see a masked man clad in black standing there, one leg perched up on the roof's ledge. In the blink of an eye he was gone, disappeared into thin air.

"Who was that?" Officer Mullholand asks his partner.

"No idea, Dave, but whoever he is, he just stopped an armed robbery…"


Saturday:

The day had finally come, and Gar was becoming frantic. Cassie would be here at any minute and he was still unsure if his abode was presentable. He had cleaned like a mad man, filling seven trash bags to the brim. The floor was vacuumed, the laundry washed and put away, the dvds on the shelves, the cds stacked, the magazines were organized and put in piles on the coffee table. Aside from the irremovable beer stains in the carpet, the place looked almost livable. The doorbell rings. As he swats the sides of his pants to wipe the sweat from his palms, Gar walks up to the door and puts on his best smile. He opens it.

"Hey, Green-Jeans." Cassie simpers at him, her expression a mix of innocence and allure.

"Hey yourself." His practiced smile melts away into a genuine one. The very archetype of the 'girl next door', Cassie wore a short denim skirt that ended just a little above her knees. Her sneakers were low-cut, faded pink Chuck Taylors; worn in and comfortable. Covering the rest of her was a zipped-up, light blue 'hoody' sweater with dark blue stars and crescent moons adorning the sides. Gar recognized the hoody, it was a Hurley or a Volcom or some such brand. He had seen a hundred of them before, but never did a person look so natural in one than the girl standing in front of him. She was humble and down to earth, the kind of girl you didn't have to take to expensive restaurants or fancy nightclubs. She was the kind of girl he could take down to the diner for a slice of pie and a rootbeer…but alas, that was another story entirely, and it was one best forgotten for the moment. He shakes the memory from his head and replaces it with thoughts of the night to come.

"So, is x-ray vision your other super power?" She asks disarmingly, as she breaks Gar's focus and he stops staring. "You gonna invite me in, or are we just going to stand out here and stare at each other until the concert starts?" She giggles to herself and nudges him in the ribs.

"Haha. Sorry. Here, come on in." With an outstretched hand he holds the door open for her and bows as she walks past. She laughs and rolls her eyes.

She looks around the deceivably clean living room. "You know, I thought this place looked familiar from the outside. I think I've been here before. Did you guys have a big party sometime a couple months ago?"

A chuckle and a shrug. "I'm gonna go with 'yes'. I've lost track of how many parties we've had here over the years, they all sort of just blur together. Lots of little ones, maybe a big rager once or twice a month. Sometimes they're planned, sometimes they just happen."

"That must be fun, huh? I've never lived in a party house before."

"Eh, it gets old pretty fast. It's fun, but it kind of takes a toll on you after a while…"

"Yeah, I bet."

"So you ready for this show tonight?" He asks her.

"Oh yeah. I can't wait. It's gonna be so much fun. I've been listening to their first album all day. I'm stoked."

He smiles. "Me too. If you think I'm cute now, just wait 'till I'm covered in sweat, pumping my fists into the air and skanking around like a rhythm-less spazz. It's irresistible."

"Hahaha!"

As Cassie throws herself down onto the couch, Gar heads into the kitchen. "Hey, you want a beer before we go?"

"Sure. Whaddya got?"

He laughs softly. "More like what don't we got." Still facing her, he reaches out behind him and opens the refrigerator door. He turns around and begins browsing through it's contents. "Lets see, we got Guinness, draft and stout, Pacifico, Red Stripe, New Castle, Sierra Pale Ale, Sam Adams, and Heineken. Oh. And Milwaukee's Best." He sticks his tongue out at the thought of the last one. "Those are Sully's."

"Jesus. I've been to bars with less beer choices than that. Damn. Uh…I'll take a Red Stripe."

"Slice of lemon?"

"Oooh. Fancy. Don't mind if I do!"

A beer in each hand, Gar walked with a swagger back to the couch. Sitting down next to Cassie, he hands her a beer and they clink their bottles together, talk and laugh. Suddenly, the front door goes flying open and Gar's three roommates make a triumphant return.

"WOOO! ODIE!! You ready to rock out witchur cock out?!?"

"Uh…not really." Gar holds his hand up to slightly cover his face in shame as Parker practically bounced into the room. In Cassie's eyes, he had gone through a complete 180 transformation from the sullen, zombie-like store clerk to this high-fiving, back-slapping ball of energy. "What's got you so amped up?" Gar asks his roommate suspiciously.

"Nils and Sully just picked up an Eightball! We're gonna par-tay tonight!"

"Ugh." A wave of disgust washed over Gar's face. Cocaine. He hated the drug, and he hated it even more when his friends chose to partake in it, knowing full well how he despised it. "Aw what the fuck, guys. You know I hate it when you do that shit here."

"Aw come on, man," Nils says as he and Sully enter the living room. "We pay rent here too, besides, where else are we gonna go?"

"Yeah, bro," Sully chirps in, "You gotta lighten up."

"The big man's right, Gar." Parker coaxes as he points with his thumb back to Sully. "You need to chill out. Maybe your date wants some."

"Uh, yeah no. You guys do whatever you want, we were just leaving anyway."

"Wellactually…" Gar feels time come to a crashing halt as he hears the timid voice next to him speak the words that break his heart. He turns to Cassie and she looks up at him, nervously. "…I wouldn't mind taking a line before we leave…if that's ok with you, Gar."

A grin stretches its way across Parker's face as he reaches out to put his hand on her shoulder. "'Course it's alright with him! Nils! Cut that shit up! Let the little lady take a bump."

Gar couldn't believe his eyes as he watched his entire world come falling down like a decrepit, old building being introduced to a vengeful wrecking ball. Whenever you find yourself in a rut you want to get out of, you always try to surround yourself with people you think are better than yourself. She was supposed to be better than him. She was supposed to be better than this. She was going to be the girl who'd save him from himself. The one to take him away from all of this and show him innocence and magic could be a part of his life again. It had been so long since he felt this way about a girl so instantly. Gar hadn't felt like this since…since Terra. But no, he couldn't think about that. Not now. He was dealing with enough heartache as it was. As he watched his date holding a straw up to her nose, Gar felt a small part of himself die a little on the inside. It was a feeling that was, unfortunately, becoming all too familiar…

Soundtrack: "Watch it Crash" – Streetlight Manifesto

Fade to black…(never come back)'


Up next! "Interlude: I Do" Before we catch up with Robin and Raven in the present time, lets take a trip to a few years back, to that one faithful night in Paris. Don't worry, unlike Cassie's beer, there will be no lemon here.

Also I should probably note that this will be my last update for at least a week and a half or so. I know, I'm sorry but I'm going home for a week and won't have access to my computer there. I'll do my best to get the next update written as soon as I have the time when I'm back. Until then, previews!

Chapter 5: the chapter is split between Cyborg and Starfire. Guest-starring aliens and Justice Leaguers. I promise it won't be as depressing as Beast Boy's. None of them will. Sorry, Beast Boy...

Chapter 6: Hey, now. Wait a minute. Isn't this story supposed to be about Robin and Raven??? Well, lets not waste any more time then, shall we? We go to Star City to meet the happily married Graysons. Or are they? (They probably are.) Also: more Red X!!

So whats up? Love it? Hate it? Shades of gray? Let me know what you think, it helps me write a better story. Till then, thanks and take care!

- SOM