Teen Titans
Adaptation

By Cyberwraith9

Lost Little Girl: Blind Justice

A domino frown filled the Watchtower's main monitor. Heavy brows and dark hair framed a face whose grim mood bled out from the massive screen and infected Superman's chiseled features. The Man of Steel braced himself against the edge of the console, and said, "Nightwing, you can't be serious. This is sheer lunacy."

Nightwing's empty eyes narrowed. His voice crawled out of the comm system, too heavy to mistake for anything but defeat. "Believe me, if I made this up, the story would have a different ending. We had the Titans contained when some sort of Junior Justice League jumped out of the water and got the drop on us. By the time we pulled together, they were all long gone."

Seated at the console Superman grasped, J'onn J'onzz brought up the League's roster on a secondary screen. He frowned, and rumbled, "Junior Justice League? We haven't—"

"Obviously," Nightwing said. "But I saw what I saw. Little versions of Flash, Arthur, Diana, Arrow…and you," he finished hesitantly, looking at Superman.

Superman grimaced. "Conner," he grunted. "Tell me he wasn't behind this."

Nightwing echoed Superman's chagrin. "No. That honor belonged to the little 'me.' I'd be proud if it hadn't made my team look like amateurs." His embarrassment cooled. "From what we saw, they took off in a giant jet, the kind I thought you guys had a trademark on."

"Then we're back to square one," Superman said.

J'onn interjected, "Actually, no." His big hands filled the keyboard, moving with preternatural dexterity. For someone of his size, the Martian Manhunter had always impressed Superman with his precision and control, two problems with which Superman knew they both constantly struggled.

A secondary window pushed Nightwing's face to one side of the monitor. The new window displayed a gridline map of the Pacific Ocean. A small, blinking, stationary "O" represented the Outsiders' shipwreck. But more pertinent was the small, blinking "T" that crawled across the blue of the map. The "T" worked its way steadily toward the southern shore of California, unconcerned by Superman's astonishment.

"There is a large, unregistered craft broadcasting as the 'East Wing,' moving on a vector away from the Outsiders at excessive speeds," J'onn reported. "If it remains on course, it will arrive within a the hour at—"

"—at Jump City," Nightwing finished. "Son of a bitch. Robin's taking them back home."

J'onn's overhanging brow descended, obscuring his featureless eyes. "But why would they return following such an escape? It makes no sense."

"It means they know something we don't," Nightwing growled. "And we let them get away…"

Superman ended their speculation with a sharp tone. "It doesn't matter anymore. What matters is stopping this situation before someone gets seriously hurt."

"Does my pride count?" asked Nightwing.

"Stay there," Superman told him. "We'll have a cleanup crew down there as soon as we can to take care of you and your ship. I'm taking care of this situation personally. Watchtower, out."

As Superman leaned across the panel to close the channel, a relentless laugh assaulted him from behind. The laughter spread, echoing throughout the cavernous Ops of the Watchtower. Scattered technicians turned with a start at the mirth, which pealed from the trim goatee of Green Arrow as he ascended the ramp to the command deck.

The emerald archer held his sides, which threatened to split his jaunty green uniform with his laughter. Tears lurked in the rims of his mask. "Oh, man," he sighed between laughs. "Those kids really skunked you good, Superman."

Superman's eye twitched beneath his furrowed brow. "Is there something you find particularly funny about this?" he asked slowly.

Straightening his hat, Green Arrow bit down on the tail end of his laughter. Even so, his voice trembled with restraint. "Maybe," he said grinningly. "It could be that your ace team of villain-catchers got their asses handed to them by the cast of High School Musical. Or it could be that those same kids are flashing their asses at you while they hightail it back home. It's tough to narrow down."

While Superman stewed in Arrow's smile, J'onn remained focused. The Martian swiveled from the controls, making steeples of his fingers in a contemplative gesture. With picturesque calm, J'onn said to Arrow, "Nightwing claimed that one of the children resembled a youthful version of you."

"That'd be my sidekick, Speedy." Green Arrow shrugged, jostling the bow strung over his shoulder. "We haven't seen much of each other since I joined the League. And before you ask me, I had no idea he was joining a team of his own. This is news to me."

The pointed look Arrow gave Superman made the senior Leaguer's expression sharpen. "And that doesn't concern you? He's attacking other heroes."

Green Arrow's brow knitted at the accusation. "I trust Speedy to do the right thing," he said, and folded his arms. "Kid may be rough around the edges, but he knows right from wrong."

"No one is questioning his morality," J'onn said. He stood, interposing himself in the heated look that grew between Superman and Green Arrow. "Only his judgment. You must understand what is at stake here. The entire League could be compromised if we do not—"

"Hey, I don't understand bupkis, pal," Green Arrow snapped. "All anyone outside of the big seven knows is that you're doing everything you can to bring in the Titans. Now, maybe they don't handle the big fish, and maybe they don't always play nice, but they're out there doing good. That's something I can appreciate," he said, and cocked his fists on his hips.

"Well, you'll be fully briefed on how serious this is while we're riding down," Superman told him. Fearless though Green Arrow was, he took a step back as Superman pushed past him and started down the ramp.

Startled, Green Arrow chased after Superman. "Me?" he asked.

Superman glared up as he left, catching J'onn's attention. "Tell the bay to prep a Javelin. We launch as soon as everyone else is on board," he said.

"Else?" J'onn rumbled. "Who else are you taking with you?"

Glancing back, Superman froze Green Arrow with a hard look. "I think the kids already made that decision for us," he said. "I just hope it's not too late to stop them from making a worse mistake."

Batman lowered his arm. His body disappeared behind a curtain of his cape. With uncanny calm, he stalked forward, earning pointed glares from Amanda Waller's suited retinue. Their generic scowls did nothing to slow Batman's approach, but he stopped several arm's lengths away out of a sense of courtesy.

Waller was a stout woman, and unabashed about it. Her skin, barely two shades lighter than the deep shadows of the lab, contrasted sharply with the regal purple tones of her crisp suit and skirt. The cut of her clothes suggested a military discipline reflected in her posture.

Though the Dark Knight loomed nearly two heads taller than her, Waller did not look up to meet his gaze. She stared through the sigil on his chest, and spoke in bemused tones. "You're pretty far from the Gotham slums," she said. "Did someone steal a loaf of bread on your watch? Or perhaps your new hobby is chasing imaginary scientists."

Batman spoke in a careful monotone. "I'm surprised CADMUS is taking an interest in anything that isn't related to the League. Or were you between clones at the moment?"

Waller let the corner of her mouth rise. "Cute. But cute won't solve your little mystery, will it?" She spread her arms, encompassing the interior of the bleak, glass-strewn, gutted laboratory in her gesture. "A host of little facilities, all cropping up conveniently after you discover the truth about that little robot girl. Each lab is just like the other, devoid of clues or leads, with just enough left in them to keep you wondering about her."

Batman's cowl blazed with a triangular glare. His gaze, hidden behind lenses, swept the façade around them. After two other labs, he had come to the same conclusion. He could see beneath the stage dressing meant to misdirect him. Everything about these labs was too neatly disorganized, too perfectly hurried. An experienced detective, he could recognize a red herring when he saw it.

"They're fakes," he said. "Good ones, but fakes. Whoever's behind this wants me to believe that the Brain is responsible for the girl's power."

Nodding, Waller said, "It took CADMUS five months to figure it out, and even longer to discover who was actually behind the girl and her real mission."

He grunted. "It isn't the Brain. But it is someone with considerable resources. Someone with access to alien technology. Someone with an interest in metahumans. It's a short list," he said with a pointed stare.

Waller smirked, and said, "I'm flattered, but not culpable. My superiors are just as worried about the real mastermind as you and your floating clubhouse are."

"Who?" he said.

Her expression became coy. The thought of holding information that the vaunted Batman lacked clearly amused her. "Have you ever heard of Checkmate?"

The word lifted Batman's brow. "No," he admitted.

"Not surprising. They're a new player, or at least good enough to stay hidden for longer than we've known about them. A secret organization that sees themselves as a watchdog for the growing metahuman 'issue.' We didn't actually become aware of their existence until the girl cropped up." Waller's smugness evaporated. "We're still not entirely sure of their capabilities."

"And they're muscling in on your business," Batman noted. "What are their intentions? Who are they? What do they want?"

"We aren't sure, exactly. But with the information and technology they possess, we do know this much," she said, and paused meaningfully. "To know what they know, Checkmate has to have people in the League and in CADMUS."

He nodded. Whoever or whatever Checkmate was, it would have the edge on both CADMUS and the League by hiding in the wings until one side overcame the other. Members in both organizations explained the girl's knowledge. Everything fit perfectly. "What else?" he insisted gruffly.

Waller's eyes drew slyly across his scowl. "I don't think so. I'm done giving you information."

"If what you're telling me is true, then we have a common enemy," Batman said.

"Which is why I'm willing to 'bargain' for more information," she told him. "I'll give you everything we've got on Checkmate: bank records, intercepted codes, the works. But in exchange, I want the girl."

Batman stiffened. "You're joking," he said.

The four suits behind Waller bristled at Batman's scoff. The brunette of them stepped forward, his scowl burning, but then stopped at Waller's muted gesture.

Waller let her voice drop as she retorted, "Whatever else you think of me, 'Batman,' I take my job very seriously. And my job is to keep loose cannons like that girl away from innocent Americans like the ones living next to your kids' giant T. CADMUS is better equipped to contain her, maybe even fix her."

"Or turn her into a weapon you can use against the League," Batman said without a trace of irony.

Waller smirked. Her dark eyes glimmered. "It's a calculated risk. But as I understand it, your little farm team is raising Cain over this girl. They won't stop once you take her up into space. They'll keep coming after her until they get her back, or until there's no more hope. I, on the other hand, have a spotless track record when it comes to making metahumans disappear."

Tension bunched in Batman's jaw. It rankled him to think that Waller knew something he didn't. More so, it made him suspicious. She and her shadowy organization wielded power that left him cold inside, the kind of power that no money or mutation could offer. She had connections, intelligence, patience, and a chilling ruthlessness. His own secrets had proven helpless against her investigations.

Batman had his own talents for finding secrets. Yet as he searched Waller's hard eyes, and read between the furrows in her forehead, he realized something. Beneath her smugness and stern demeanor, Waller knew even more than she let on. Batman needed to know what she knew, and he might not have the time to apply his own methods to discovering the knowledge she offered him.

He had to accept a calculated risk, and hope that, when the time came, the Titans would be able to do the right thing.

"I want the girl's safety guaranteed," Batman said after a moment. "Full cooperation and information share. You're going to help her. She's as much a victim in this as anyone."

Her smirk became stony. "Joint custody? Agreed. Your League brings her in. My people take care of her."

The communicator in Batman's ear chirped. He turned his back to Waller and touched the side of his cowl. After listening a moment, he tapped his cowl twice in acknowledgement. Glancing back, he said, "It looks like you caught up with me just in time. The Titans have been spotted running back for Jump City. I'm on my way now to intercept them. I'll contact you when we have something."

"Wry not take us with you? Partner?" Waller asked wryly.

Something akin to bemusement cracked Batman's granite jaw. "You should have worked transport into our deal," he said. Blue light manifested around Batman, swallowing his outline in luminescent streaks. He and the light faded from the empty lab, leaving only faint warmth where he had stood.

Waller's wry expression broke into a calculating smile. "Fetch," she murmured to the warm afterimage burned into her retinas. "Good boy."

"—which is where the trail goes cold," the digital mask said. "Sorry I couldn't get you more, but these people are good at covering their tracks. I need more time to put a case together."

Cyborg sat in the cockpit of the strange jet, strapped into the copilot seat, and stared at the central monitor set in the control panel. A digital mask stared back with matte, empty eyes. Its face hovered in segments with no neck to support it. Its mouth jostled awkwardly in time with its synthesized, feminine voice.

Seated at the controls, Robin nodded. "I appreciate the help, Oracle. Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet," the mask—Oracle—told him. "I had to tell the League about your friend's data hijacking when I told you. You do know they're coming for you right now, don't you?"

"All according to plan," Robin said. He reached up, flicking a series of switches on an overhead panel. "Keep me informed."

"You owe me one, little bird," Oracle told him impishly.

"I wish it were just the one. Out." He flicked the last switch in the row. Oracle's mask disappeared from the central screen, replaced by a snowstorm of static. "Jamming is up. It'll make it just hard enough to make them think we don't want to be caught."

Superboy sat behind Robin, strapped in at the primary weapons console. He scratched his head, ruffling his dark hair, and said, "But we do want to be caught?"

"We want to be 'chased,'" Robin said.

Behind Cyborg, Bushido sat strapped in ponderous silence next to the secondary weapons console. A frown creased his smooth forehead. "And these answers your…Oracle…discovered? The answers to Tek's past? You do not want to tell her?"

"No," said Robin.

Both Bushido and Superboy waited, expecting more. They received silence instead. Exchanging a glance with the swordsman, Superboy said, "Uh, why? If you know all that, and you don't tell her, isn't that basically jerking her around?"

Robin's voice remained calm and gruff. "We don't have answers right now, Superboy, only half-truths and suspicions. Circumstantial evidence. Telling Tek now could jeopardize her only chance to learn the real truth. And I know you wouldn't do that to her," he added, casting his masked eyes sidelong.

Cyborg's fist trembled as it engulfed the end of his armrest. Metal groaned and plastic crackled under his grip. "No," he growled, bathing Robin in a baleful glare.

"Good," Robin said. "We play it my way for now. Anything else?"

"Yeah," Cyborg said. His voice rose into a snarl. "What the hell is Titans East?"

Robin stared coolly through the forward viewport, keeping them on course with a light touch. Compared with Superboy's embarrassment, Robin remained the picture of calm beneath Cyborg's glare. "That seems self-explanatory at this point," he said.

"Running out on us wasn't bad enough?" snapped Cyborg. "You had to go ahead and build a little replacement team full of sidekicks?"

"Hey!" Superboy exclaimed indignantly. "Not a sidekick!"

With his maddening calm, Robin retorted, "You seem to have filled out your roster just fine with pregnant teens, coma patients, schizophrenics, and murderers."

Bushido lifted a finger in pointed objection. "Alleged murderer," he said.

Cyborg twisted in his seat. The straps of his restraint harness creaked dangerously as he swung his ire upon the rear of the cabin. "Clear out. Now," he ordered in a growl.

Glancing between the two Titan leaders, Superboy hurried out of his harness. "Hey, Bushido," he said with forced cheer. "You wanna see some other part of the jet that isn't this one right now?"

"Desperately," Bushido deadpanned, and ducked under his harness.

The extraneous pair slipped through the hatch and into the rear compartment. As the hatch sealed behind him, Superboy cast a last look back into the cockpit. His vanishing worry surprised Cyborg, because the look was aimed at the back of Robin's head.

Cyborg settled back into his seat. His gaze drifted toward the pilot seat, and the specter sitting in it. In every discernable way, the person at the jet's controls looked like Robin. The muted colors of his new uniform, the short cut replacing his spiked hair, and the harsh angle of his new mask couldn't hide the resemblance.

But beneath the cosmetic differences, Cyborg saw a far more jarring change. The edges of Robin's blank eyes drew taut beneath his laden brow. The chill in his voice left frost behind Cyborg's eardrum. A wall sat around Robin, a parapet he carried with him that no one could scale. It wasn't the intensity with which he had pursued Slade, or the unstoppable rage brought out in him by the alien parasite. This Robin was a ghost of the Robin in Cyborg's memory, and a chilling one at that.

The anger in Cyborg waned. In a husk of his former volume, Cyborg asked, "Why didn't you come home?"

Robin didn't turn. He didn't blink. "There was no reason to," he said.

"No reason?" echoed Cyborg, astonished. "We fell apart, man. We almost lost the city. We almost lost each other! Starfire still…" He crushed shut his eye. "We needed you," he said, fighting himself at every word he spoke.

"You didn't," Robin said, eyes still locked ahead on the rolling clouds. "The fact that you're even here proves it. You never needed me. You never will."

Cyborg frowned. "But these new guys do? Or were you looking to trade up for better Titans?" Pain leaked into Cyborg's voice, a slip for which he cursed himself. He clamped his mouth shut to prevent another slip. More than anything, he wanted to stay angry at Robin.

But as Robin answered, Cyborg's anger gave way once more to remorse. "Let's get something straight. I didn't choose to be here. You don't want me here. But right now, I am here, and I'm the only one with any clue about what's going on," Robin said, and turned at last to face Cyborg. "If you want to save Tek, you need to get over it and do what I say until we get the job done."

Cyborg watched him turn back in silence. The cockpit rang with the aftermath of Robin's hollow words, which vanished into the undercurrent whine of the jet's engines.

"You should have come home," Cyborg said to the viewport.

Somber once more, Robin muttered, "There was nothing left."

"…to come home to?" Cyborg asked with a bitter glance.

Robin didn't answer. "We have to get Tek into the city at all costs. After that, everything depends on her," he said.

Cyborg leaned into his seat. His thoughts drifted backward, through the hatch and into the rear cabin, where he had last seen Tek several hours ago. If what Robin and Oracle had theorized came true, Tek would be walking into her own living hell. And that assumed that the Justice League didn't shoot them out of the sky first. Whether or not Tek could survive the experience remained to be seen.

Tek curled over her knees on the seat of the chemical toilet. Were it slightly roomier, the jet's lavatory could have doubled as a coffin. The cramped little chamber bottled her soft, stuttering whimpers, letting her stew in their echo. Tears cut her face into sopping thirds before dripping down to soak her legs.

Everything was wrong. Everything was gone. The life she had waited for to come back to her would never come, because it had never been real. She wasn't a person. She was a gun, one that the Justice League wanted locked up, one that had nearly gotten her friends hurt.

No. She didn't have friends. People had friends. Guns had marksmen, people who aimed the gun. Robin had only accepted her to the Titans to control her. He kept her close to keep her trigger from being pulled. Now he was back to do it again.

Cyborg, Bushido, they didn't understand. They couldn't be her friend, because there was nothing to befriend. They lied to themselves as she had to herself, thinking she was real. Or they lied to her to continue what Robin had started. To control her.

Tek bit her lip to stifle her sob. The Outsiders had hunted her down as though she were an item in a scavenger hunt. Metamorpho had toted her like luggage, knowing just how to stifle the dangerous parts of her. Everyone out there wanted her, coveted her, for what she was. And even if by some miracle she evaded the League, she would spend the rest of her existence running and hiding.

She could never go home. She had no home. People had homes. She was a gun, just waiting for someone to draw and fire her until she ran empty.

The lavatory hatch slid aside. The doorway framed Raven, who staggered forward. Half a step in, the sorceress saw Tek and jerked back, folding her cloak around her. "Oh. Sorry," Raven said, dipping her head into the shadow of her hood. "I, uh, need to…go. Could you…?"

Bitter resentment welled up in Tek, pushing a fresh flow of tears from her eyes. She looked up over her knees, scowling at the intrusion. "Go away," she croaked.

"Believe me, I wish I could," Raven said. Her cloak fluttered as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. "But I've got a fetus pounding on my bladder. Things are about to get serious."

Tek did not move. She drew from her belt a small, plastic vial, and popped its cap with her thumb. "Why don't you just teleport me off the toilet?" she rasped. "You could even poof me up to the Watchtower. Then this whole mess would be done."

Raven's restless shifting stopped. Her eyes shrank into twilight slivers that flashed inside her hood. "I'm glad to see you're trading some of that sniveling for anger," she said carefully. "But you need to rethink your target. Quickly."

The vial in her hand rattled as Tek lurched to her feet. "You're unreliable, inexperienced, overpowered, and you're out of control. You're not one of us," Tek said with a sneer.

"Excuse me?" Raven said icily.

"You told me that," Tek shoot back in kind. "Down in the cavern under the Tower. I did everything I could to make you like me, but you always hated me. Did you know back then? Did you look inside me and see this?"

"I—"

"Did you know?" Tek screamed. Pills spilled from her vial as her cry wracked her body. The tiny white motes clattered at her feet, surrounding her, shining in the fluorescence.

Raven glanced aside to something unseen on the other side of the door frame. A subtle shake of her head rebuffed someone outside. Then she turned back to Tek and said, "No."

Tek searched Raven's hood in skepticism. The angry lines in Tek's face sagged. Seconds later, her body did the same, collapsing back onto the toilet. The fight brewing in her chest escaped with a long sob.

She glanced down at the few pills remaining in the bottom of her vial. They danced noisily as her hand shook. "Just teleport me out there," she murmured. "Send me to the League. Dump me in the ocean. I'm sick of this."

She raised the vial to her mouth and tilted it back. Her eyes closed, anticipating the haze she would swallow. Then her lips touched something startlingly cold. She jerked the vial back and found a cap of soul-self covering it.

Raven lowered her hand, letting her eyes and the soul-cap fade. "Enough," she said loud enough for only Tek to hear. "Stop being dramatic."

"You—"

"What I said about you back then was absolutely true," Raven told her. "And so is this: I wouldn't be here if I thought you were still that person."

Tek trembled. "You…"

Leaning forward, Raven said, "You aren't who you were. You aren't a liability. You're a Titan. And no one gets to take you just because of what you might be."

Tek's lip curled. Her eyes fell to the pills waiting for her on the floor. "I'm a weapon," she murmured.

"I'm a monster," Raven said. "Learn to cope."

A long moment passed. Tek listened to the pills' insistence. Then she asked her feet, "How?"

Raven's face softened. "Trust your friends," she said, "even when you can't trust yourself. They're good people. They won't let you hurt anyone any more than they'll let anyone hurt you. I know." Raven's voice fell to a murmur. "I'm one of them."

Urgency tore through Raven's comforting expression. She gripped the doorframe, digging her nails into its plastic. "But all of that is forfeit if you don't let me use the toilet in the next forty-five seconds." She crossed one leg in front of the other. "Please. I think he's hugging it."

Tek almost smiled. The delusive gesture left her face quickly, as did Tek herself. Raven sidled around her, shoving her out with a bump, and then sealed the hatch. Ousted and red-eyed, Tek wiped her face on the back of her hand and faced the rest of the cabin.

The two teams of Titans sat on opposite benches in a cabin that looked hauntingly familiar to that of the Icarus. A space remained open on either side of Beast Boy, who made no effort to disguise his stare, unlike the others. He patted the one that Raven hadn't been using, and did not break her gaze until she started moving to take the seat.

The Teen Titans' bench radiated suspicion and misery, with Beast Boy's smile being the only exception. The sinewy muscle beneath his uniform bunched with a tension that didn't reach his face. Starfire poised herself nearest to the jet's external hatch, coiled, her gaze planted in the deck. Bushido sat at a polite distance with his sheath resting across his lap.

Titans East, by comparison, ran the gamut between stoicism and affability. Impulse and Superboy filled the latter role with smiles and pleasant chitchat. Wonder Girl lurked at the other end, her arms folded and her chin dipped. Caught in the middle, Speedy and Aqualad maintained a mutual, uncertain silence.

"—and the time hole closed up permanently. I moved in with Max, and the rest is future-history," Impulse said. He sat in a perpetual state of unrest, fidgeting his legs, his shoulders, his hands, and his head. The bright eyes behind his goggles bounced from face to face above a beaming smile.

Wonder Girl made a show of checking her bracer. "For future reference, Impulse, the question 'where are you from' shouldn't take half an hour to answer."

A snicker rolled down her bench, and then crossed over to Beast Boy. Bushido, however, nodded sagely to the embarrassed speedster. "The story of one's origin should be a grand tale, something to reflect the scale of one's character," he said.

Beast Boy nodded earnestly. "Like me. I got bit by a green monkey," he said.

Without missing a beat, Bushido continued, "There are, of course, exceptions."

The jet lurched beneath them, leaning everyone toward the rear of the cabin. A muffled crash resounded from within the lavatory, drowned out by the sharpening thrum of the engines. As the acceleration evened out, the lavatory opened, and a disheveled Raven emerged in a tangle of her cloak.

"What happened?" she demanded.

Her answer emerged from the hissing cockpit hatch. Robin marched into the cabin, his cape billowing behind the force of his gait. His eyes blazed a path between the benches on the bulkheads, refusing to meet any of the Titans' questioning looks.

"Speedy," Robin clipped, "take the stick."

The red archer stood a half-second before the rest of his team could. "What's going on? I thought we were at full throttle already."

The edge of Robin's cape brushed Starfire's knee, jolting her from her stupor. She jerked her legs back as though she had been burned. Her hands grasped the edge of the bench, its metal frame bunching between her fingers.

"We were at full throttle. Now we're past full," Robin said without slowing. "There's a League Javelin coming up fast behind us. They'll be within weapons range in minutes. I'm taking the Redwing out to buy you enough time to land in Jump City."

"You're gonna stop them with a hockey player?" Beast Boy and Impulse asked at the same time. They exchanged shocked looks, grinned, and harmonized, "Dude! Awesome!"

At the cabin's rear, Robin bent and grasped a ring on the deck. He lifted a round hatch, which opened with a hiss of equalizing pressure. As he sat and swung his boots into the open hatch, he said, "Get to the landing coordinates at all cost. I'll be right behind you."

Superboy shouldered his way to the hatch. "You'll need backup. Cassie and I can—"

"No." Robin spared him a single, chilling look. "Do your job."

He disappeared down the hatch, sealing it behind him from the inside. The Titans left behind stared at the hatch, save for Speedy, who darted into the cockpit to take the controls. A minute later, hydraulics whined under their feet. The mechanical sounds culminated in a whump that shook the deck.

Beast Boy ran to the exterior airlock, craning his gaze through the double pane to see past their contrail. His eyes cut the darkness to find a sight that brought a whistle to his lips. "That is unbearably awesome. I want a green one. With racing stripes," he decided.

Tek stared through the bulkhead, trying to picture the predatory Javelin bearing upon them. Both teams of Titans settled back on the benches, milling in her peripheral vision. She didn't need to look at them to feel their worry.

Yet when she did look at them, they plastered encouraging smiles over their worry, as though such a situation were routine. Even Raven managed a nod, though the tension in her body radiated through her cloak. Starfire remained near-catatonic.

Jump City. Robin had said they were landing in Jump City. Tek had spent every moment since leaving the island locked in the lavatory, or in self pity. Why were they returning home. Was there somewhere else she could hide? Did Robin have a plan for keeping her away from the League?

She left the bench, working her way up the deck. Turbulence made her legs and courage wobble, but she steeled both, and pushed through to the cockpit. Her tears waylaid, she thrust herself into a kind of morbid curiosity.

Red lights screamed across the jet's control panel. Speedy tried to assuage them, flipping switches to redirect the jet's resources. He gripped the controls tight, trying to clench the tremor out of his voice. "If the League catches up, we're gonna be a cloud of bad memories and twisted metal," he muttered.

Cyborg maintained a mountainous cool. Ahead, a shore of twinkling lights crept toward them, peering through the clouds rolling under the jet's nose. "If you wanted a day at the beach, you should have stayed and hung out with the Outsiders," he grunted. "Real Titans can handle the pressure." He glanced back as Tek strapped in. The corner of his mouth rose in a silent gesture.

Speedy's mask quirked. "You guys were the ones who made me a Titan, remember?"

"You know what I mean," said Cyborg. "We made you an honorary of 'our' team. Now you and Garth are cruising with Robin and a bunch of young Justice League wannabes, jetting around in this Faux-carus. Hell, I bet that pint-sized little Bat-Mite even built you a Tower, too. Didn't he?"

"It's…more like a lair," Speedy admitted.

Cyborg grunted. "Being a Titan is more than running around and shouting 'Go!' Robin had no right—"

"Robin got out-voted," Wonder Girl said. She leaned into the open cockpit, bracing herself on either side of the hatch. Her classical features puckered with annoyance. "He almost quit over the issue."

Her revelation sucked the argument from Cyborg's mouth. His jaw hung as he swiveled in his seat. "What? Why?" he demanded.

Wonder Girl pierced his ironic indignation with a look. "I don't know. Maybe he thought like you. That 'real' Titans lived in Jump City, and fought Doctor Light, and played in your little clubhouse, and that everybody else was just pretending or an 'honorary.' I do know that he busted his ass helping us set up a base and a network that alerted us to your trouble, and he got us the jet your tin butt is riding in right now. And he was willing to walk away from it all until we told him flat out that we would be 'Titans East' with or without him."

She looked down at Tek, who stared in quiet awe from her seat. "I don't know you," Tek said to her. She shook her head and tapped her temple. "I mean, I 'know' you. That's what this is all about. But you don't know me. You don't owe me anything. Why do all this because of me?"

Wonder Girl bowed her head. Her deep breath made Tek think that the question weighed on Wonder Girl more than the adopted Amazon wanted to admit. "When someone puts her neck on the line for everybody, and then gets hounded because of it, she deserves some backup," she told Tek.

Cyborg said, "But why—"

"Because you beat an army all on your own," Wonder Girl said. "Because you rallied a city together after one of the worst domestic attacks in American history. You set up a working relationship with your city. And every time some two-bit wannabe god and psychopath rears up, no matter how much crap you guys take, you just won't go down."

Speedy looked over, taking his eyes off the protestation of the control board to catch Cyborg's eye. "The Justice League was supposed to bring everybody together and put us all on the same side of the fight. Now they're ducking American nukes and pounding on their own numbers," he said. "Call me crazy, but that's not why I put on the quiver and throw myself in front of machine guns."

Folding her arms, Wonder Girl nodded. "We wanted to talk to you about it first. We were going to get squared away before we came to you, so you'd take us seriously. But when the League came after you…"

Wonder Girl looked up, her eyes sharp and clear. "There's more of us cropping up every year. People like us who want to do the right thing. Some of us have ties to the League. Most of us are on our own. But we all need something to believe in." Lifting her chin in defiance, she said to Cyborg, "I believe in you. I want to be a Titan."

Speechlessness consumed the cockpit. Cyborg found himself unable to do or say anything in response to Wonder Girl's declaration. Wonder Girl, her defiance spent, slowly deflated as she traded her pride for uncertainty. Tek simply teared in humbled silence. Then she turned back to the viewport, and grew worried. "Should the city be coming at us that fast?" she asked.

Speedy's gaze shot back to his controls, and to the twinkling lights that loomed outside of the viewport. "Oh, crap," he muttered, and yanked back on the yoke and the throttle. The jet lurched in reply, forcing Wonder Girl to grasp the hatch again or risk burying her face in instrumentation.

His hometown sprawled beneath them, Cyborg forced his mind back to the matter at hand. "Do you think Robin slowed them down long enough?"

"We'll know in a minute," Speedy said between frantic adjustments. "If he didn't, someone should be planting a laser up our aft any second now."

A sleek shape cut through the night sky, riding on curved, sickle wings that wrapped around its narrow body. Its crimson skin shone black under the moon. Its engine spat a bright, rippling heat that carried it just shy of sonic speeds away from the running East Wing. An angular canopy crouched atop the fighter jet, glaring into the darkness.

Robin gripped the controls of his Redwing and flicked his gaze back and forth between the radar screen and the sky outside. Flight stick in one hand, throttle in the other, he pushed the tiny jet to its limits. Despite the engine's howl, the cockpit felt tranquil. Solitude settled over Robin, a comfortable cloak under which he considered his sparse options.

The Redwing was small. It had to be in order to dock in the East Wing's concealed underbelly bay. It boasted a small armament, a short operational range, and a subsonic top speed. Any League Javelin bested the Redwing in every respect, save for atmospheric maneuverability. The Javelin chasing the Titans could shrug off Robin's missiles, blow him out of the sky, or simply outrun him, or even all three at once.

Static crackled in his headset. At the edge of the radar display, a sizeable blip crawled forward, appearing slow only because of the sheer distance the screen represented. "Unidentified aircraft, this is Javelin Zero-Six," his headset said in an indistinct voice. "Please alter your course and accompany us to the following landing zone."

A set of coordinates appeared in his HUD. Robin ignored them and watched the radar. The Javelin blip drew ever closer to his center dot. Inside of a minute, they would be nose to nose.

He felt a prickle of intuition run down his spine. The radio crackled again. "Robin? Robin, this is Superman."

Robin's hand drifted toward a heavy, lead-lined pouch on his utility belt. He shook off the reflexive move and grasped the throttle once more. Superman could see him as clearly as if they sat together, regardless of distance or night. He was undoubtedly being watched at that very moment.

"You need to stop this, Robin. You and your friends need to come with us. We can straighten this mess out, but you have to cooperate," Superman said.

Robin would get just one pass. The Javelin wouldn't slow down to deal with his Redwing, Superman's pleas notwithstanding. They would pursue the real prize, the East Wing. Robin knew he would do the same in their position.

"We've worked together before. You know me, Robin," Superman insisted. "Just like I know you. I know your heart is in the right place, but I need you to trust me right now. I need your help."

Nothing in the Redwing's ordinance would slow Superman long enough. But if Superman was flying in a Javelin, not under his own power, it meant he had someone else with him. There was someone else in that Javelin who couldn't fly.

"Robin—"

Robin shut off the radio with an impatient flick. Trusting his instruments, he ruddered the Redwing to port. The Javelin blip on his monitor drew closer, faster, and straighter. As the Javelin began to correct its course, trying to avoid the head-to-head pass, Robin tapped his stick, keeping them centered in his HUD.

The Redwing and the Javelin flew nose to nose with only a handful of miles between them. Running lights twinkled on the horizon, distinguishing themselves from stars with their steady pulse. As the lights closed upon him, Robin concentrated on the space between them, filling their blackness with the radical outline of the League's iconic craft. The flat, arrowhead Javelin took shape first in his mind, and then between the lights.

Robin jerked back on the stick, slamming himself down into his seat in gravity's chokehold. Just as quickly, he shoved the stick back down and into his left knee.

The Redwing followed his stick with a cacophony of straining fuselage and screaming thrust. Collision warnings howled in the cockpit as it rose above the Javelin's path and then dove back into it, trailing its sickle wing beneath it.

The Javelin's pilot must have believed Robin meant to abandon their game of chicken. Instead, both jets shrieked as the Redwing's wing cleaved into the top of the Javelin's thruster assembly, carving a deep scar all down the back half of the Javelin.

Smoke and fire bled from the long scar, robbing the Javelin of its propulsion. The larger craft shuddered as it dipped toward Jump Bay, leaving a charred contrail behind it.

But Robin didn't see the Javelin's damage. The impact sheared the wing from the Redwing. Its death knell of rending metal deafened Robin to the howling klaxon of his controls. The sky around him grasped his jet and spun it mercilessly, pinning Robin to the side of his cockpit. Smoke and sparks spilled out from the controls' housing.

Gasping at the noxious heat, Robin fought the dark edges clenching around his vision. His Redwing careened toward a spiraling, reflective expanse. His last conscious thought came as gratitude that, when he died, no one would be hurt this time. Then the darkness won, and ate him whole.

"Hey," Impulse said, standing at the bottom of the egress ramp, "I think your big T fell over." He twisted his head to one side, staring at Titans Compound lengthwise as the rest of the Titans barreled down the ramp.

Jump City's night life stopped in shock at the alien aircraft landed in the middle of Third Street. Cars sat in rows that stretched back for blocks, with less savvy drivers too far away to see leaning on their horns in a vain attempt to move traffic. The sparse citizenry stood on the sidewalk and stared at the double helping of Titans emerging from the craft. Murmurs and shouts and honks peppered the Titans as they took to the street.

Cyborg left the ramp at a jog, leading Tek by the hand. She moved under her own power, and with a bloodshot determination in her eyes, but he held on anyway. Feeling her squeeze his hand in return gave him a small measure of confidence, which he pressed into his words. "Everybody keep moving. It's just a few blocks from here."

"Are we gonna make it?" Superboy asked, floating after Cyborg. He kept looking over his shoulder, as if he expected the Javelin to appear over their heads without warning and disgorge half the Justice League at once.

Raven shot past Superboy in a flutter of cold cloak. "Why don't you look? You're the one with super vision," she said.

A sly smile quirked his lips. "Hey, if I had supervision, I wouldn't—ow!" His joke broke at the sharp sting of Wonder Girl's palm crossing the back of his head.

"Nobody thinks that's funny. Go see if Robin's okay," Wonder Girl snapped.

Rubbing his scalp, Superboy climbed the air above the streets and turned his gaze westward. His glacial eyes glistened with intense scrutiny of the horizon. Then his eyes snapped open. "He wouldn't…" he muttered.

A muffled, distant crack answered Superboy. The sound stopped the Titans dead in the street and twisted their worry into morbid fear. Those jaded denizens lining the sidewalks around them jumped at the sound. They all recognized the sound of a far-off explosion, as well as its implications. Panic sunk its claws amongst them, arising as gasps and cries.

"He's crashing!" Superboy cried, cutting through distance and obstruction with his gaze to watch Robin's jet spiral out of the sky. "About ten miles from the Bay. Bart, he needs a flier—"

"Right." Impulse didn't bother listening to the rest. He grabbed the nearest flying Titan in reach that had been running with him at the rear of the pack. They vanished together in a blur of red and gold before she could utter more than an "eep!" His speed carried them to the waterfront and beyond in the space of a heartbeat.

Cyborg watched Impulse's after-image fade. For half a second, he felt relief. Then he realized who Impulse had grabbed, and shuddered as an icicle stabbed the inside of his stomach. "Did he just grab Starfire?" he asked.

"It's okay," said Speedy, jogging ahead. "Impulse can run on water when he's fast enough. They'll get there in time." When he saw Cyborg still rooted to the street, he and the rest of Titans East stopped to look back. "What?"

Stark realization creased half of Cyborg's face. He shared it with his team in a grave look. "Has anyone seen Starfire fly since she got back?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," Beast Boy scoffed. He combed his memory for instances of Starfire flying. "I mean, of course she… She must have…" His scoff dawned into horror as he looked around, and saw his reaction plastered on the others' faces. "Hasn't she?" he asked.

The city flashed around Starfire. She linked her arms around Impulse's neck and held on. Every ounce of her strength rose into her shoulders, trying to keep them in their sockets. The wind blinded her and roared in her ears, forcing her head to once side. Through her teary squint she watched the smear of skyscrapers vanish from around them. A panorama of black water loomed before them, and sprayed behind Impulse's feet.

Two bright fires crossed the sky. The larger blaze glided toward the ocean, more or less stable. The smaller blaze spiraled out to sea with a trail of wreckage raining in its wake. Impulse bent his head and raced the second blaze. "That's him. Hang on!" he shouted.

Starfire could hardly do otherwise. She fluttered behind Impulse as they crested the ocean's waves. In seconds, the spiraling fire fell behind them, outpaced by the speedster. Starfire tried to keep the fire in sight over her shoulder. Her stomach churned, but not for the speed.

"Hang on! I'll give you a boost!" shouted Impulse.

He turned them around, kicking a crescent wave into the ocean. They faced the Redwing head-to-nose, with less than a thousand feet between them. Starfire wanted to yell, and try and explain the flaw in Impulse's plan, but the wind choked her.

Then it was too late. Impulse ramped up a wave taller than him and leapt from its crest at incredible speed. His legs wheeled as he dragged them into the air. He grabbed Starfire's arms and heaved her upward, pushing himself well under the Redwing's path in the process. The motion sent him tumbling end over end toward the black backdrop of the ocean, where he disappeared with a fading wail.

Crossing her arms to shield her face, Starfire hurtled at the dying Redwing. Its port wing was an empty socket that bled smoke. Fire wrapped around the fuselage with the force of its spin. A silhouette lurked somewhere under the canopy, lit by intermittent sparks.

She would miss the jet. She realized it the instant Impulse released her. The shoat had been one in a million to begin with. That Impulse had gotten her so close was its own miracle. But she could see the Redwing's nose drift on a path that would take it just out of reach above her.

Starfire watched the fiery fighter roll. She stared through its smoky shroud, watching for a glimpse of the silhouette under the canopy. Her stomach churned harder. Her body burned, as though the fire reached out to grasp her. It scorched through her veins, and crushed her from the inside out.

She reached back for the fire. Her eyes blazed in challenge. She had to reach it. She would reach it. She focused everything into the tips of her fingers, willing them to bridge the distance. Her entire world became the cockpit, her hands, and the damning space separating them. The jet's trajectory defied her, but she wouldn't allow it. She would reach the canopy, no matter what.

An instant later, her hands found the edge of the Redwing's cockpit. The dying jet yanked her along for the ride. Sky and sea spun together in an indistinguishable blur. Superheated metal bit her skin, pulling a scream from behind her teeth. She bit back with a grasp that mashed the canopy's frame between her fingers. The canopy wrenched free with a tug. She tossed it aside, leaving it to tumble away, and peered into the cockpit.

Robin lay against one side of his controls. The restraint harness clutched him to his seat. Two white slivers hung in his mask. His head lolled, and his chest rose raggedly with shallow breath.

Starfire snapped his restraints with a gesture and pulled him out. Her arms wrapped around him as she kicked off from the burning jet. The Redwing spun away, leaving her to tumble free with Robin pressed against her.

He felt so frail. He weighed nothing in her arms, a collection of Kevlar and ropy muscle that would break if she held him too hard. Soot clung to his skin, which bore speckled burns from the Redwing's controls. But beneath the clinging smoke, her nose found his familiar scent. She recognized the curve of his face beneath his heavy, angular mask. Her eyes fell through white lenses to find his.

Her heart stopped. Then it burst.

They hit the water. Starfire curled around Robin, taking the brunt of the ocean's punch on her back. The impact knocked her breathless, and cold brine rushed into her chest to fill the absence. She shuddered and exhaled a bubbling gasp of seawater, and forced her legs to kick. The airless depths didn't bother her as much as they frightened her. While she didn't need to breathe, Robin did.

She broke through the reflective sheen of the surface, gasping and coughing as she dragged Robin's head above the water. Treading for the both of them, she watched Robin bob with the rhythm of the waves. Three inches from her face, he was little more than a shadow. The night swallowed his features.

Trembling, she focused her fear into her eyes, and lit him with a soft green glow. The pale warmth revealed his slacken features, which shocked opened at her glow. White circles snapped open in his face. His grimace split for a wracking, brine-vomiting cough. His whole body shook and splashed as he emptied his chest.

Gradually, his breathing slowed, his bearings returned, and his panicked struggles ended. He floated there, safe in Starfire's grasp. Without their coughing, in the absence of crashing jets and crackling fires, the two teenagers found themselves trapped in a deafening silence. Jump City twinkled on the horizon, as distant as the stars overhead for all it mattered to them. In the moonlight, all they could see of one another was the glistening of their eyes.

Starfire's heart pounded, threatening to explode from her breast. She stared into the emptiness of Robin's eyes, desperate for any sign of what lay behind them. She had waited for, prayed for, dreaded and avoided this moment between them. Her body burned with a need she had been fighting since the moment she had awoken on the island. So close, achingly close, it took everything Starfire had to keep that need buried now that he had awakened it.

Robin stared. His chin tilted into the water. For an eternity of seconds, he bobbed with her in silence. When at last he spoke, his words maintained a maddening calm. "Where's the rest of your uniform?" he asked.

A fleet streak of red and white descended upon the pair, plucking them out of the ocean. They jerked into Impulse's grasp and held on, trailing behind him across the bay. In four dizzying seconds, the trio stood at the west end of Titans Compound and the parked East Wing, wind-blown and bewildered.

Both teams of Titans waited for them, anxious and annoyed in varying degrees. Cyborg reached out to catch Starfire as she staggered from Impulse's grasp. She straightened and stiffened at his offer, brushing aside his hand.

Robin slapped Impulse's hand off his wrist. "What are you still doing here?" he demanded. The instant trip had wreaked havoc on his inner ear, making his first steps crooked. He straightened his feet into an angry stomp leveled at his Titans East. "I told you to keep moving!"

"Um," Speedy said, spreading his confusion in a look shared with the others. "You were crashing."

"Yeah. You're welcome," Impulse groaned as he knocked his head to loose the water in his ear.

"That didn't matter," Robin barked, earning him a gallery of bitter looks. "I gave you a head start, and you wasted it. And now the League is…"

His voice trailed off as his eyes trailed upward. One by one, the other Titans followed his gaze above the skyline. Their dissent crumbled into a horror they could all share. Tek forgot her anger and doubt, lost for anything except wordless terror. She shrank behind Cyborg's arm.

Superman descended from the sky. His cape streamed behind his purposeful flight. Two figures hung in his grasp, one red, and one green. Behind him, the sleeker outline of Wonder Woman soared in formation, with a massive, shirtless king swinging from her grasp around his hooked prosthesis. All five League members glared at the Titans as if to trap the children with sheer disapproval.

The three carried Leaguers dropped to the street. Superman and Wonder Woman landed, joining Flash, Green Arrow, and Aquaman in barring the Titans' way. Several of the Titans stepped back from the imposing line. Lumps were swallowed, and looks were exchanged, in a moment of poignant hesitation. Around the heroes, curious crowds of citizenry quelled, awestruck by the assemblage of the League and the Titans, and confused by the tension between the two teams.

Green Arrow nocked his bow with a blunted, cylinder-headed arrow. He kept the weapon lowered. A grim expression curled in his goatee. "Kids," he said calmly, "we need to have a talk."

To Be Continued

Thank you to everyone who wrote in. It meant a great deal to me. You guys put up with a lot of scheduling bullshit, for which I can never express enough gratitude.

I'm feeling marginally better, both about myself and about my writing. That means I'm back. It also means I've launched a project I've been meaning to launch for the last year, but didn't have the courage to start. If anything ever comes of such a project, you'll be among the first to know, and the first I thank.

Unfortunately, this other project is eating up a lot of my time and focus. This means I'm cutting my original update schedule in half. Which, at this point, will probably mean more chapters on average for you anyway, so…yay! From now on, look for new chapters of Teen Titans: Adaptation on the second and fourth Friday of each month.

I know, I know. "Boo, Nine." I said the same thing. But there is good news: As of the end of this chapter, there are only ten chapters left in Adaptation. We're nearing the grand finale, and I think you're all going to get a kick out of it. Also, the chapters have been getting longer, so hopefully the extra time will be reflected in the quantity and quality of story I put out.

And for those of you who believe that, I've got a Brooklyn Bridge to sell you.

Anyway, please stick around, keep writing in, definitely keep reading, and know just how lucky I feel to have readers like you. For whatever it's worth, I'm back, and I missed you guys. Let's see what the Titans can really do, shall we?

Cheers to all.