Disclaimer
Teen Titans is a registered trademark of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. All trademarked characters, locations, themes and ideas are used without permission in a work of fan-created fiction. The following has been done without profit for purely entertainment purposes. All original concepts, characters, themes and ideas within are the copyrighted property of the author, and are not to be reproduced without his prior consent. Additional information used in creating Teen Titans: Adaptation is courtesy of Titans Tower Online.
The canister sat, waiting with a diligence that many containers would envy.
Years before, during the last full Archives inventory, a clumsy researcher had bumped the canister off of its shelf without realizing it. The canister had rolled, and eventually come to rest under a shelf, out of sight and out of mind. Its presence went unregistered in the inventory, and thus, it had been lost.
But the canister did not despair. It was of sturdy construction, hermetically sealed with three layers of redundancy protection. Its nonconductive alloys could withstand any blunt trauma, as well as most known energies. The canister could survive an indirect atomic blast with only minimal carbon scoring to show for it, and that would buff right out. It was a very well-constructed canister, and proud of it. It could wait forever, if need be.
Discovery of the canister came much sooner than forever, though. Three years later, during the Archives' annual inventory, a particularly diligent research assistant—much more diligent than the oaf that had dislodged the canister from its shelf—happened to look under the shelf. She did so for reasons completely unknown, mysterious reasons for which the canister did not care, because her attentions led her to discover the canister under the shelf.
The researcher retrieved the canister from under the shelf, and brushed clear the very light coating of dust. She took a moment to marvel at the canister's design, or so the canister assumed. Then, armed with her pocket scanner, she scanned the canister's barcode into the system and discovered her predecessor's error.
Elation filled the canister, or would have, were its contents not still hermetically sealed and protected by its very excellent design. It left the Archives, passed between hands, up the chain of command, until it reached the Research Administrator's office. And there, the Administrator called a colleague, another administrator on the other coast, boasting about how he had found the canister—which of course, he hadn't, as the research assistant had been the one to discover the canister, which the canister knew full well, but was too polite to say while the Administrator was on the phone.
By the Administrator's reactions, the canister could tell that the Administrator's colleague was excited to know that the canister had been found. But who wouldn't be excited to know of the canister's re-discovery? The canister couldn't imagine.
After all, within the canister's four layers of nonconductive, sealed alloys, there rested contents with the power to rewrite the very definition of life. What the canister contained would, years later, kill thousands of people as it very nearly ended the world. In the immediate future, the contents would ruin one life and empower another greatly.
And at the moment, beyond even the realization of the excellent canister, its contents—now scanned into the inventory of S.T.A.R. Labs' Metropolis Archives—were made aware to an unscrupulous third party, who would make the canister and its contents his own, by whatever means he deemed necessary.
But who could blame him? The canister couldn't. Who wouldn't covet such a finely crafted canister?
Teen Titans
Adaptation
By Cyberwraith9
Technis: Conjecture
"The ultimate step in next-generation warfare requires a new degree of ruthlessness," Ravager said.
He stood in Ops, bedecked in his two-tone armor and bereft of his helmet. His gauntlet ran across the smooth, metallic casing of an apparatus that dwarfed him and every other Teen Tyrant in Ops. The massive, egg-shaped apparatus sat motionless and silent, exuding a chill that sapped the sun-dappled command center of all warmth.
Gathered around him, the remaining Tyrants regarded Ravager's strange apparatus with a mix of disdain and confusion. Jinx and Shimmer supplied the former end of the spectrum, and a trio of Billys occupied the latter. Blackfire stood between them all with an air of boredom about her.
Pressing a hidden control, Ravager opened his apparatus. Its casing split at hidden seams, ratcheting into a segmented shell. A network of circuitry and large, bulbous components lay beneath the shell, all surrounding a core of spherical metal.
Ravager knelt next to the core. His calculating smile spread across its surface in reflection. "The problem with the Information Age is that it's resulted in jaded targets. Bombs scare people, but they don't draw attention like they used to. Buildings can be rebuilt. Victims are mourned and forgotten. Oh, the impact is still there, but personal. To truly frighten the masses, you need to go a step further."
Blackfire unhinged her jaw for a yawn. "So you've built a bigger bomb. It's cute. A little clunky, but I suppose you people can only do so much with what you've got at hand."
"Let me guess," Shimmer sneered. "You're finally going to blow up those blasted Titans once and for all by planting that monster somewhere in their stupid Compound."
Ravager matched her sneer with one of his own. Drawing a remote from his belt, he activated the window monitor, summoning a floor-to-ceiling map of Jump City. "No. This will be planted at the exact center of the city, several miles away from the Titans' insipid little base, in the dead of night, without ever alerting them."
The revelation broke Jinx's icy silence. She unfolded her arms, and said, "You're going to blow up the entire city?"
"Weren't you listening?" he snapped. "Blowing them up will just kill them. I'm going to annihilate them and everything they stand for with the push of a button."
Scratching his heads, Billy harmonized with his selves, "Uh, how?"
"By preserving them forever exactly as they are," Ravager said to a chorus of bewilderment. "This, people, is no bomb. This is a Chronoton Detonator. It is a spatial engine capable of destroying the very fabric of time throughout the city. Using this, we will forever freeze the Titans and their fawning protectees, creating a living graveyard that can never be undone."
The forced boredom slipped off of Blackfire's face. Lifting her eyebrow, she said, "That's actually kind of cool. It takes a little gumption to screw with space-time like that. I guess you're finally getting serious here."
Jinx twisted her entire face with her opinion of the plan. "You're going to time-nuke an entire city just to kill six people? I don't know if that's stupid, or just lazy. Besides, there are stores I like in that city. And people there who owe me money."
"Take a pill, bubblegum," Shimmer said, surprising Jinx with her sudden reversal. The wiry girl stepped forward and ran her hand across the Detonator's casing. Her leather straps swelled with an excited gasp. "This is our chance to finally do some real damage. No more pussy little plans. Everybody's gonna know who we are when we take an entire city and turn it into one big sculpture."
"Exactly," Ravager crowed, running his hand next to hers. He cast a snide look meant for Jinx over his shoulder, one she readily mirrored. "By tomorrow morning, the only words on America's lips will be 'Teen Tyrants.' We'll be launched into the national spotlight with the push of a button."
Billy Numerous examined the Detonator with three sets of eyes and one shared, worried expression. "Uh, boss? Are you sure this is such a good idea?" one Billy piped in.
"Yeah," another Billy said. "I mean, what's this gonna do to the rest of the universe when we blow time up in just one spot?"
A third Billy rubbed his jaw as he peered between the Detonator's segmented casing. "Seems to me it'd be like grabbing one thread off the shirt of some guy runnin' by you. The thread stays still, and the rest of the shirt unravels into just a mess of thread, and you wind up with a naked guy. Only in this case, 'stead of a naked guy, you've got a universe full of shredded time."
Ravager glared at the Billys, and snapped, "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Professor Numerous. I didn't realize you were an expert on temporal physics, or else I would have consulted you on the Detonator's effects. Why don't you go fetch the chronological tuner phalange from the basement, and we can continue discussing your fascinating theory." When the Billys tried to protest, he said, "No, no, I insist. Go get it. Go. Go! And be prepared to discuss your absolutely fascinating theory without the aid of colorful, folksy metaphor when you get back."
Ushered out by Ravager's biting eyes, the Billys shuffled out of Ops, merging together into a single, gangly boy. "Just don't wanna get time-janked, is all," he muttered under his breath before the doors closed.
He stuffed his hands in his bodysuit's pockets and grumbled all the way down to the Tower's basement. Sliding down the stair's rails, he slipped between the stacks of boxes toward the back of the room, where stray pieces of casing were propped against the wall amidst a slew of discarded tools and components.
"I watch the Discovery Channel, y'know," he muttered, and picked through the scattered tools for something resembling the Technicolor emitting adjustment phalanx Ravager had sent him to retrieve. "I'm plenty smart. Smart enough to worry 'bout raping the fabric of time-space, or whatever, y' smartass dumb fu—"
The sound of creaking metal and grinding stone made Billy stop. He looked up, and then scrambled backwards as the wall in front of him shifted into itself, hollowing a rectangular section of concrete half again as tall as he was and three times as wide, which slid aside.
Tremendous metal blast doors lay five feet beneath the wall, unveiled by the moving concrete. Though scorched, the doors still bore a circled T sigil between its seam. As Billy watched in bewilderment, the sigil split, and the doors opened. A warm, thick fog of smoke rolled through the opening, chasing him back several steps.
"What in tarnation?" Billy thundered.
A horned silhouette manifested in the smoke, coughing. As it walked forward, it took shape, becoming a monster. Short black tusks jutted from the creature's forehead. Its skin glistened with a shade so crimson that it seemed to glow in the basement's faint lighting. White hair flowed down from the monster's crown, spilling across its wiry musculature and down to its chain belt and black leggings.
Splitting its fanged mouth, the monster rasped with a guttural spray of sound that drained the blood from Billy's face. Then the monster leaned upon its knees and coughed. "Whew," it said in a boyish voice. "I think that elevator could use some TLC. Motor was coughing up smoke the whole ride up."
Billy stopped dead at the cheery, jovial voice emerging from such a horrific monster. "What in hell are you?" he stammered.
The monster looked around, confused. "Me? I'm Kid Devil. And you're a Teen Tyrant. You are a Tyrant, right? It would be super-embarrassing if we wound up in the secret entrance to the wrong evil lair."
Two occurrences struck Billy, dissolving his fear. The first was that this so-called devil didn't act so much like a devil, appearances notwithstanding. The second was that it had appeared out of a set of hidden doors bearing the Titans' sigil.
One Billy became five in the blink of an eye. The quintet raised their fists to the smoke-teared demon as the centermost of them snapped, "Well, I don't know how you got down wherever that door leads, but buddy, y'all are leaving in a body bag."
"Maybe a bunch of 'em!" another Billy jeered.
The leftmost Billy then stopped to think, considering Kid Devil's smug, diabolic expression. "Waitaminute," he said, scowling. "What do y'all mean, 'we?'"
Kid Devil grinned as he laced his hands behind his head. "Well, I sure didn't mean 'we' in the royal sense, Math Man."
Two pinpricks of green shone through the rolling smoke behind Kid Devil. One Billy peered hard, leaning forward to pierce the haze and see who they faced. He squinted, and strained, until at last he saw pupils lurking in the green spots, which hovered in the silhouette of a face.
Contact.
A ribbon of flesh-colored smoke streamed out of the hidden doors. It struck the straining Billy in his goggles, pouring through the tinted material while he screamed, clawing at his face. His other selves cried and multiplied, surging around him to help as the last of the fleshy smoke vanished into him.
"Billy!" another Billy sobbed, cradling the limp duplicate. "Billy, what did they do to you?"
The limp Billy suddenly stiffened. He thrust his fist through his other's face, shattering the visor with a spray of plastic and blood. The troupe of Billys backed away at once as their stricken brother arose into a whirlwind of fists and feet.
"Billy!" he cried, even while he swung through the jaw of another of his selves. "Billy, y' gotta help me! I'm not doin' this! I mean, I am, but I'm not! This ain't me!"
Waves of compressed sound screamed out of the secret doors, cutting through the smoke in short blue bursts. Each burst punched a Billy in the chest, knocking him back through the stacks of boxes in the basement. As the Billys rallied against the blue streams, flashes of green brilliance joined in, hammering through the duplicates with burning, devastating force.
Billy doubled again and again, struggling to maintain numbers to stand against the mysterious energies pouring out of the doors. "Y'all can't stop me!" he screamed. "I'm Billy Numerous!"
The smoke parted again for another set of horns. These were long, sharp, and hooked, attached to the bristling scalp of a furious, long-faced minotaur. The enormous creature snorted, lowering his head as he drove into the burgeoning crowd of Billys. He bowled a dozen of them fully off their feet, tossing them with a sweep of his horns, or batting them aside with hands the size of hubcaps.
All the while, the blue and green fury poured out of the smoke, slapping down Billy duplicates as quickly as they could manifest. As their doubling numbers dwindled, Billy sent his selves in a desperate dash through the energy, sacrificing half of his selves against the silent minotaur. Only the wiry demon stood between them and their attackers in the smoke, who would soon learn that it didn't pay to fight a one-man army.
"Move outta the way, Red! 'Less y'all wanna get trampled!" Billy jeered.
Kid Devil smirked. His shoulders rose with a deep breath. Then he split his fangs for a furious roar. White fire leapt from his mouth, making the air quake with heat, and overwhelming the basement with the stench of brimstone. The fire clung to the floor, leaping high and hot, and forcing the Billys to scramble back or be immolated.
The energies shot, and the fires raged, and the minotaur stomped them into the ground, and the traitorous duplicate beat them down, wailing all the while. In seconds, Billy reached his duplicating limits. He tried splitting again to stop the minotaur's charge, and watched the world go black as his head struck the floor.
Cyborg emerged from the secret doors, wearing a shroud of dissipating smoke. His sonic cannon hummed at his side as he took stock of the floor, which was thick with unconscious Billys. "Wildebeest, Jericho, you guys okay?" he asked brusquely.
Only one remained standing, the one that had turned unwillingly against his cohorts. The body-jacked Billy gasped, and cried, "Y'all? I should've known you low-down skunks would—"
His fist hammered his own jaw, knocking his head to the side. He staggered, falling silent. Then he rose sharply, shaking off the blow. When he spoke, not a trace of his usual drawl remained. "Okay here, Cy. But something tells me these yokels were the easy ones," the Billy said, speaking for Jericho.
Wildebeest, the great minotaur, crossed his arms and snorted with derision at his littered foe. At Cyborg's questioning look, he nodded and grunted.
Behind Cyborg, the smoke parted again, this time for a figure cloaked in dark blues followed, twirling a golden horn. The horn blower balked at the sheer number of Billys. "This was the easy part? I thought the plan was hard enough when you mentioned slipping in through some secret Omega kerfuffle door, or whatever," said Herald.
Starfire pushed him aside to walk across the Billys, little caring where her feet fell. Moans and grunts arose from her footfalls. "We are wasting time. One of them could have alerted the rest of the Tyrants. We should proceed."
Tapping the panel on his arm, Cyborg said, "Team Two? Are you guys in position?"
A strained, feminine voice filtered through his comm, "Team Two is ready to—eek! Whoa! —ready to go, Cy."
Cyborg frowned, and brought his forearm to his lips. "Tek? You okay?" he murmured.
A string of venomous words barked from his comm, all in a language Cyborg didn't understand. Then Tek's voice returned, shaking. "I must be really bad at this. Ry never curses in Japanese anymore."
"Go in T-minus thirty seconds, on my mark. Fast and hard. No stupid risks. Okay?" Cyborg said.
"Just the regular risks then, got it."
"Mark." Cyborg lowered his arm and motioned to the others. His cannon pulsed, painting his wicked smile blue. "Okay, guys. Let's get evicting," he said.
The Titans charged up the stairs, climbing level after level in the appropriated Tower with tremulous haste. Despite Starfire's grim prediction, the alarms remained silent. Cyborg thanked providence for such a small favor, knowing full well what kind of security measures the Tower's interior could level against them. He prayed for another moment of good luck as he launched himself through the door of Ops with his cannon at the ready.
Crumpling, the metal leaves of the door flew into the room, bowled aside by Cyborg's shoulder. Cyborg followed them in, ducking low to avoid a wave of starbolts that scattered the surprised Tyrants.
Sonic blasts chased Ravager across the floor. He sprung ahead of Cyborg's fire, groping for the swords on his back. "You!" he snarled.
"Sorry it took so long, Ravvy," Cyborg said, aiming through a furious glare as he tracked Ravager with his cannon. "I had to call some friends. Mind if we crash here for a while?"
Wildebeest hurtled Cyborg's broad shoulders with an effortless jump and landed in a charge. He lowered his horns at the closest target, the silver-clad Blackfire, and put his entire tremendous mass behind his horns.
His freight-train force spun at Blackfire's backhand. She batted Wildebeest aside, throwing the massive Titan into a bank of computers in the wall. Delicate components spilled into fragments from the sideways crater his body carved as Blackfire sneered, "Crash all you want, Cyborg."
An inhuman roar startled Blackfire into the air. She turned her head, and caught golden knuckles on her chin. Starfire twisted into the blow, driving her sister's face deep into the floor, where it caved her likeness into the metal plating. Wordlessly, Starfire grasped Blackfire's black hair and wrenched her out of the floor, throwing the Tyrant through the air. With another battle cry, Starfire rushed after her, lashing Blackfire mercilessly with a luminous barrage.
Cyborg watched the family spat from the corner of his eye, and cringed. Then he glanced at the rest of the room, taking stock of the fight. Herald and Jericho worked at Wildebeest's arms to pry the great bruiser out of the computer wall, while Kid Devil breathed hellfire at Shimmer as fast as the Tyrant could transmute enough water to suppress him. The resultant steam swam through Ops, quickly obscuring the fight in a dangerous, sweltering mist.
His circuits screamed with sudden pain that brought him to his knees and danced in his optics as pink sparks. Every system in his body reset, rebooted, or outright faltered, choking him in error messages. Wheezing, he mechamorphed his cannon into a hand and clutched his throbbing head with a cry.
"I've been feeling a little frustrated lately," Jinx whispered in his ear from behind. Her fingertips rested at the small of his back, pumping hex into his chassis. Her magic spilled out of his capacitors, raining from his red optic like pressurized pink tears. "But I bet you understand frustration, considering you've got nothing under the hood."
Cyborg muttered, his words lost amidst the crackle of Jinx's power and the grinding of his own components. Scowling, Jinx leaned down and doubled the hex poured into his body, until his scream became a choked squeak. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," she purred. "Could you speak up?"
Struggling against his own faltering muscles, Cyborg turned his head. His lips convulsed into a fierce grin. Through his teeth, he grunted, "…thirty…mississippi…"
Ops window exploded inward, raining shrapnel into the battle. Titan and Tyrant alike ducked against the spray, and then watched the window fill with vibrant silhouettes that cut through the steam.
Riding on columns of heat that jetted from his fists, the glowing Hotspot rocketed into Ops. "Aw yeah, Titans!" he crowed, and threw a pillar of fire that flanked Shimmer, forcing her to double her transmutational efforts.
Silver flashed through the steam as Argent cut in. "Oi! Shag bag!" she barked, and pushed a wave of force from her fingertips. A silver lance streaked across the battlefield and into Jinx's face, belting her off of Cyborg. Lilac sparks trailed behind Jinx's scream as she tumbled back.
Cyborg shambled back to his feet, forcibly rebooting his systems. As he shook the static from his optics, he saw another silhouette breaking through the steam with a blade in hand. The thick curtain parted for Ravager, who leapt with his saber held high, bellowing murder at the top of his lungs. It was all Cyborg could do to catch the blade on his arm, sacrificing his communicator to Ravager's death stroke while his strength returned.
Grinding his blade into Cyborg's arm, Ravager snarled, "You made a mistake coming here, you cadaverous clanker! I was going to turn you into a timeless statue. Now I'll rip out your circuitry and—"
A buzzing mote flew between their stalemate, landing on Cyborg's split arm. Ravager's eyes crossed to focus on the mote, which wore a striped black and yellow bodysuit, and brandished curved weaponry. Then a flash of gold uncrossed his eyes with devastating force, pile-driving his face away from Cyborg, and leaving his sword stuck in Cyborg's arm.
Bumblebee buzzed off of Cyborg's arm. She grew to full size next to him, holstering her blasters with a smug gesture. "Happy to see us, steel cheeks?" she asked, and slapped his ass playfully.
The last of Cyborg's systems purged Jinx's chaos. He straightened, fighting to keep his embarrassment from reaching his face. "Thrilled." Searching the steamy battle, he added, "Where are—?"
A pitching wail answered Cyborg. He looked to the window in time to see the wall next to it cave in, wrecked by a ball of white armor that rode glowing, blue-white thrusters. The thrusters darkened as the ball bounced through Ops, smashing through Starfire and a dazed Blackfire before it slumped to a halt against the Chronoton Detonator in the center of the room.
Tek unfurled woozily, revealing Bushido curled fetally against her stomach. The swordsman hopped off of her and drew his sword, staggering his first few steps as his inner ear struggled to catch up to his new surroundings. "Never again," he told Tek.
"Stop complaining," she groaned, and braced herself to her feet with the Detonator's help. "I'm going to get better at it."
"Never again," he swore.
A sudden, shrill whine emerged from the Detonator, startling Tek's armored hand off its casing. Beeping, flashing, the Detonator's components hummed to life. The air tingled with an electrified charge, making the steam glisten. The battle in Ops ceased in a heartbeat as the Titans and Tyrants stared in horror at the Detonator's activation. Then a low chuckle permeated the room, drawing all eyes to its source.
Ravager stood at the edge of the jagged window. A detonator trembled in his hand, its red button mashed into the device's casing. "It's almost fitting, isn't it?" he asked Cyborg in a ragged voice. "Now this struggle between us really will be endless."
"What did you do, Grant?" Jinx howled.
As the steam cleared, Cyborg clearly saw the whirring apparatus, and froze. Naked horror unhinged his jaw. "No," he whispered.
Stumbling woozily, a single Billy Numerous traipsed into Ops, rubbing his head and the army of collective aches with which it throbbed. "Wh…what did I miss?" he moaned.
Laughter nipped at the underside of Ravager's throaty voice. Wide-eyed, he beamed at Cyborg, and cackled, "You and I, Titan, locked forever in mortal combat, waiting for the rest of time to cease. An ending fit for the Bard's finest villain, don't you think? Get ready for existence to unravel around you as—"
A sneeze thundered through Ops, stirring the lingering steam with a green flash of light. The emerald sneeze holed the Detonator, piercing its spherical, chromium heart in one blow. With a groan, the Detonator wound down, slumping back into its casing. Its melting components clicked against one another until finally its power dwindled to nothing.
Ravager watched the scorched metallic chromium core of his apparatus roll across the floor, misshapen by the heat of the sneeze. It skipped over the edge of the window frame and fell. Aghast, he whirled his glare at Starfire, who wiped at her nose.
"That is one hell of a huff-and-puff," Argent murmured in astonishment.
"Allergies," Starfire grunted, and sniffed.
Terrible wind swept through Ops, emanating from the inside wall. Jinx commanded the air with outthrust hands, bowling the Titans off their feet. As Cyborg struggled to lock onto the witch with any one of his weapons, he realized her true intent, but too late.
Jinx ran for the window even as Ravager succumbed to the force of the wind. It swept him through the jagged opening, and carried him into the sky. Summoning a greater gale, Jinx lifted them both through the air, billowing higher and higher while the Titans reeled in her wake.
Seizing the moment, Blackfire swept upstream through the gale, grabbing Billy and Shimmer in bone-rending grasps. Her payloads complained loudly in her hands, all to deaf ears as she shot out the window and chased after Jinx and Ravager.
Cyborg barreled to the window, his shoulders splitting to reveal stun missiles primed for launch. But as he reached the gaping edge, a wall of fire descended from the air to fill the window. Errant violet bolts pierced the fire, splashing the carpeted floor with char.
He grabbed Argent and Hotspot out of the air before their pursuit carried them into the flames. Shimmering heat chased him back from the window with the pair in tow. When the sudden flames waned, he peered through the thick air, and scowled at a distant speck dwindling toward the horizon.
"We can still catch 'em!" tiny Bumblebee squeaked, and shot forward.
Cyborg stopped her with a hand twice as big as she was. "No," he grunted, hating himself for calling off the chase. "If we chase them, who knows where they'll lead us. With that kind of lead they could take the fight someplace ugly, like a populated area."
"Besides, we only have two fliers that can actually carry anyone," Bushido piped up. With a furtive glance at Tek, he added, "And only half of those fliers are proficient. The Tyrants would have the advantage in the air, despite our numbers."
"Love you too," Tek grumbled tinnily.
Padding barefoot across the floor, Kid Devil said, "So, what? 'Next time, Gadget?' That's it?"
Starfire recoiled from his approach. Tension drew across her face, making her voice tight. "The Tyrants no longer have a base of operations. Any plans they might have had will be severely hindered."
"Kory's right," Cyborg said. He leaned against the neutered Detonator, glancing through its innards to confirm its inactivity. "Being on the run is gonna hurt them a lot. Ravager's impatient, and he'll get desperate. That's when he'll make a mistake."
He looked up from the Detonator. The knot in his chest eased as he glanced around the scarred, warped visage of Ops. Beneath the battle damage, he recognized the distinctive features of the room, but each of them altered from his recollection of their former home. The computers along the wall, the mismatched appliances in the kitchen, the gunmetal carpet, and the harsh rivet-work in the walls taunted him. It was as though he were looking at a memory through a funhouse mirror.
Seeing the Titans, honorary and otherwise, standing once more in the house they had abandoned felt right. It didn't matter so much that the Tyrants had gotten away. Cyborg felt as though they had done something much more, that they had saved an old friend, one who had been in need of help too long.
Planting his hands on his hips, Cyborg smiled at the Titans, and said, "Besides, there are things more important than catching bad guys."
"Azarath…Metrion…Zinthohhhhhhhh…"
Beast Boy looked up with a scowl. "Would you knock that off already? You're making me nervous with that mantra crap. Just sit back and stop fidgeting."
He knelt before the couch in the Compound's Commons with Raven's bare feet filling his gloves. Their swollen, ashen flesh rolled beneath his touch. Behind him, the enormous television blared with the drama of network soap operas, which Raven couldn't escape no matter how many channels she surfed.
Craning her neck, Raven looked over her mountainous stomach to glare at Beast Boy. Her navel protruded through a gap between tattered flannel pajama pants and an old Green Lantern T-shirt that, even after repeated washings, still smelled of wet dog to Raven. "I didn't ask you to do that," she groused, and swept stringy hair out of her eyes.
"Don't start that again," he snapped, and worked circles into her soles with his thumbs. "Your feet hurt. Look at them. If they get any bigger, California's gonna need two new zip codes." As she opened her mouth for a retort, he added, "And don't try to deny it. I've seen you floating around everywhere. Your shoes don't even fit anymore, do they?"
Irritation flashed in Raven's eyes and grumbled out her lips. She wiggled the foot not in Beast Boy's grasp, and grumped, "I have cankles."
He grinned and worked his hands over Raven's arch. "Yeah, you do."
She gnashed her teeth. The fluorescent light overhead flickered, and then darkened with a pop. "You of all people should appreciate my need to meditate. It keeps my subconscious from lashing out at the 'little irritants' around me," she growled.
"First off, there's nothing little about my irritant. Just ask Tara," Beast Boy grunted, and wrung Raven's bulbous ankle between his palms. "And second, I'm a big supporter of light bulbs. But you can meditate on your own time. Right now, you're at Salon de la Garfield, and your masseuse wants you to relax and eat your breakfast."
Raven glanced at the plate beside her on the couch, little knowing where to start. "Half-toasted Pöp Tortes hardly qualifies as a breakfast. And furthermore…"
She trailed off as his words ran through her mind for a second time. Beast Boy began working the folds of her other foot, oblivious to the surprise that dawned in her face. She watched him work, his hands deft, his face a mask of concentration, with a barely audible song hummed at the back of his throat.
"Did you just make a joke about Terra?" she asked softly.
"Hmm?" Beast Boy looked up distractedly. When he saw her face, he realized what she had asked. His hands fell away from her feet as he blinked in surprise, tilting his head with thought. "Wow. I guess I did," he uttered.
Raven slid her feet out of his lap, curling them under her legs on the couch. With great effort, she leaned forward, her hand hesitating above his shoulder. "Are you… Are you all right, Garfield?" she asked.
Her voice broke his reverie. Shaking his head, he shoved a grin into his fangs, and said, "Sure. No, yeah, I'm fine. It just kind of caught me off-guard, y'know? I guess I hadn't really thought about her in a while."
"You've been a little occupied," Raven said.
Snickering, Beast Boy rested his glove over her swollen navel. "You're one to talk."
His faux smile faded as she placed her hands atop his. "Don't do that," she told him. "Don't shrug it off with one of your stupid jokes. I know how much she meant to you."
Beast Boy tried to drop his eyes, but Raven's gaze refused to let him go. She drew him in with unseen, unshakable strength, waiting patiently for him to speak. Her skin felt cool as her fingers curled around his. He had never seen her so insistent, so earnest.
"It doesn't hurt as much anymore," he admitted. "I don't…I'm not really sure if that's good or bad, but it isn't…it doesn't hurt." As her hands closed around his, he found himself squeezing back. "I don't know what it is, but hanging out with you, Raven…it's…"
The barest hint of a smile lifted Raven's lips. Beast Boy hardly recognized the gesture before her face straightened again. "Who would ever have thought that you and I would be kindred spirits?" she mused, and cocked her brow. "Both of us hurt and betrayed…both of us changed…"
She gently exorcized her hand from his. Tentatively, she ran her palm across his cheek, cupping his face in fascination. His features were sculpted, even handsome. But Raven saw past that to the little boy she had met just a few short years ago. Her ethereal sight saw much deeper. She knew just how beautiful Beast Boy truly was.
Spellbound by her touch, Beast Boy could only think to say, "Sorry I said you had cankles."
Raven's eyes warmed. She traced the edge of his pointed ear in an affectionate, unconscious gesture. "I do have cankles," she said. "Don't ever apologize to me for being honest."
Then she clipped him upside the head. The glancing blow knocked his face aside. He yelped and rubbed his scalp as she pulled away and reclined on the couch once more. "Ow! What was that for?"
"You said I have cankles," Raven said darkly. "If you can't be nice and honest, then you should just be quiet."
"But you…you just… Oh, skip it." He shook his head with an annoyed laugh, and knelt back down at her feet. Taking up the other foot, he worked his thumbs into her arch, and said with a dirty smirk, "If I couldn't win an argument with you when you were skinny and reasonable, then I don't have a snowball's chance now."
"What did I just say?" she said, and sank back into the couch.
"Right. As if you were ever reasonable…"
The doorway of the Commons came alive with a laughing, chattering crowd. Beast Boy heard it and Raven felt it, prompting them to rise as the rest of the Titans trickled into the room in twice their usual numbers.
"Break out the bubbly, y'all," Bumblebee crowed, and checked the refrigerator open with her hip. She dug through the fridge's door and came out with an armload of canned soda, which she tossed one by one.
Kid Devil fumbled with his can. "I wouldn't get too bubbly," he said. "This isn't exactly a wrap on the Tyrants." When he pulled the can's tab, soda gushed out of its mouth, hosing him with brown froth.
Silvery laughter made his face even redder. Argent draped herself across Kid Devil's shoulders, reaching around him to open her own soda. "Bin that bollocks, Eddie. Anybody who can walk out of a row like that without a mark to show for it should count himself as one jammy bit of stuff," she said, and tapped his nose with her can.
"I agree with Toni…at least, I'm pretty sure I do," Tek said, and lifted her own can with a nod to Argent. "Ravager's bunch is on the run, and nobody got hurt. We should live it up while we can."
"'Fraid that won't be too long," Hotspot said. The cooled, mahogany sculpt of his face pulled back for a smile as he cracked open his soda. "It was fun pitching in for the day, but I have to get back home. I don't like to be away for too long."
Herald clapped Hotspot's shoulder. "Just wetting my whistle, Sparky. Then I'll blow everybody back to where they belong as quick as you can think it." He patted the silver horn hanging at his hip.
"Better watch who you offer to blow, Mal," Bumblebee teased, earning a snort from Wildebeest and a silent chortle from Jericho.
Beast Boy approached the laughing crowd with a toothy grin. "How goes, Team Titans?" he said.
"Beast Boy! Missed you at the big fight," Hotspot said, and traded high-fives with the shapeshifter.
"Took a sick day. My stomach has been acting up something fierce," Beast Boy said, and rubbed his midsection. "I looked up my symptoms on WebMD, and it turns out that I either have food poisoning or ovarian polyps. I wasn't sure what polyps were, so I figured I should take it easy for the day just to be safe."
Resting her chin on Kid Devil's shoulder, Argent watched Raven lurch after Beast Boy. "No guesses as to why you stayed behind, love," she quipped.
"Apparently I'm on the inactive roster from now on," Raven groused, bracing her back with her hands. "Which is patently ridiculous. I'm barely finishing my first trimester."
"For a human baby, maybe," Beast Boy countered. "I told Raven if she didn't take it easy until the baby came, I was gonna start calling her the 'Hinden-bird.'"
Then he sniffed the air, staggered silent by a tantalizing scent. His nose tugged at his gaze until both were aimed across the room. Hidden in Wildebeest's long shadow, Starfire stood hunched against the doorframe. Her arms were wrapped around her midsection as though she were cold. Concentration wrought her face with tiny creases, and a heavy weight drew her chin toward her chest.
But there was something else about her, something that Beast Boy couldn't quantify. Each time he thought to look away, he found that he couldn't. His gaze roamed the lines of her golden body and scant lilac armor, growing hungrier with each inch of her it devoured. His chest rumbled with an approving sound too low to be heard by normal ears.
"Kory?" Beast Boy floated toward her, tractored by her scent. She jerked at hearing her name, and glanced up in surprise as he slid next to her on the wall. "Hey. What are you doing over here all by yourself?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, and shrank back from Beast Boy's presence. Her arms trembled as she drew them tighter around herself. The tension in her face tightened until the skin around her mouth threatened to snap.
Beast Boy watched her fight to control her breathing. The rise and fall of her bound chest warmed his smile. Rumbling again, he reached out and brushed her arm. "You know, you don't always have to be so alone. You should hang out with us," he said. In a low purr, he added, "You should hang out with me."
His touch made her skin jump, as if his glove were electric. Her breath deepened, and her pupils flexed. She fell into Beast Boy's lustrous stare, her lips trembling as she fumbled for a response.
Halfway across the room, Raven lent a small fraction of her attention to the baby questions bombarded upon her by the honorary Titans. Her eyes hung on the isolated world next to the Commons' door, where Beast Boy and Starfire drew closer, somehow alone in a room full of people. Potent emotion roiled off of the pair, feelings strong enough to rock Raven's inner core.
At first, Raven didn't believe what her inner eye sensed. It felt like such a ridiculous notion. But as she watched Starfire and Beast Boy draw closer still, locked in a powerful silence, her disbelief became something else. An ugly thought flitted through her mind, one she hated herself for even having.
"Where's Victor?" she asked suddenly.
Kid Devil, abashed by Argent's playful grasp, said, "I think he said something about Ops."
When the red demon tried slipping out from under her, Argent giggled and held on with bands of luminous silver that pinned his arms to his sides. "He promised to stop by before we all toddled off," she said absently.
Raven yanked her eyes away from the shocking, disturbing sight at the door. "I think I'll go see how he's doing," she said. Before anyone could argue, she pushed her soul through the refrigerator door, creating a portal that stole her away from the Commons with a gust of frigid air.
The gust flitted through the room until it reached Starfire and Beast Boy. Its icy touch shocked Starfire, breaking the spell Beast Boy's eyes held over her. Blinking suddenly, she wrapped herself in her arms once more, and stepped back. "Please excuse me. I must go," she said, and hurried through the door, her expression thick with worry.
Beast Boy stared after her with heavy, hooded eyes. Seconds after she left, her scent faded from his keen nostrils. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, shaking off a sudden stupor. "Huh? Sure. What?" he said to the wall. Then he looked around, frowning. "Hey, where did Raven go?"
Emerging from her portal, Raven found Cyborg at the central console in Ops. "You're missing your own party," she said, turning his head from the screen.
Overhead, a three-dimensional hologram of the Tower—Tyrants Tower no more—rotated slowly on an invisible axis. Its exterior still bore the scars of Slade's final attack, a façade the Tyrants had left to throw them off the trail. By the holograms' oscillating frames, Raven could see the outline of Cyborg's plan to rectify the damage.
"That explains why you're here," Cyborg said. "Check this out. We've got ourselves a summer home now. And it's pre-owned, too, so we picked it up cheap."
"But I hear the previous owners got away. You know, I should have been there. I could have helped out," Raven said. An edge of annoyance crept into her voice as she said, "I can pull my own weight."
Cyborg swiveled in his chair as she approached. She walked right into his finger as he tapped her belly, and said, "It's not 'your' weight I'm worried about. Besides, we did all right. Nobody got hurt."
She glanced down at his arm. The cleft where Ravager's sword had rested glistened with exposed components. Touching the edge of the wound with caution, Raven noted, "Almost nobody. Aren't you going to fix that?"
"That? It's nothing," he said, and turned back to the console. "Little nick like that? My maintenance cycle will take care of that tonight."
Raven's mouth twisted. "Doesn't it hurt?" she asked, frowning.
Cyborg glanced back, and then down at the wound. His diagnostic systems told him the exact dimensions and depth of the breach. His motor function hubs routed signals around the damaged circuits. His processors interfaced with what remained of his brain to translate the information into a kind of pain.
But he remembered how it felt on the field, when a hard hit would split his lip, or a cleat would catch his leg. He knew what pain should feel like. The simulations felt similar, and they told him when something was wrong with his body, but it didn't feel like real pain. It never felt quite right.
"Nah, it's fine," he said. With a wry look, he added, "Why so interested?"
Raven sobered, and said, "I'm practicing being maternal. Lucky for me, I live with three giant babies." She stared up at the rotating Tower hologram, folding her arms. "So what are you going to do with two bases of operation? Are we moving back to the Tower?"
The note of hope in her voice was unmistakable. Shaking his head, Cyborg said, "Honestly, I don't think so. After I made sure Ravager's Chronoton Detonator was disabled—"
"His what?" Raven said with a start.
"—I tried digging through their mainframe, disabling everything nasty I could find. It may look like our old Tower, but I'd recognize Gizmo's handiwork anywhere, and it's all over that place. It could take months to de-tyrranize the place. Might be safer if we just tore it down." He waved his hand at the hologram with a sigh. "I don't know. I'm still trying to figure it all out while I play catch-up from today."
Biting back a sigh, Raven said, "So let me help."
Cyborg frowned at her. "Oh, no. No. Your only job right now is keeping your bun and your oven out of trouble and away from stress. Go meditate on a book, or tea your chi, or something."
Raven's retort was lost in his console's incessant beeping. The hologram of the Tower vanished. The Alert map appeared in its place, broadened to its fullest view of the city. Hovering within the green edges of the hologram, a yellow dot crawled toward the outskirts of the suburbs, following the edge of the desolate Doldrums outside of town.
"Is it a Teen TroubAlert?" Raven asked, looking up at the map.
"Could you not call it that?" Cyborg grumbled. He tapped his console, calling up details of the Alert. "No, I don't think so. It looks like one of S.T.A.R. Labs' auto-trains has a breach of some kind."
"Auto-trains?"
He nodded. "We're hooked into the Labs' security network. It gives us access to a lot of information that comes in handy, but it also lets us know when something with the Lab goes screwy, in case there's any way we can help. Sort of a reciprocity thing."
"Wonderful," Raven said. "You managed to give me an answer that in no way answered my question."
Rolling his eye, Cyborg worked his console until the map changed again. This time it became a smooth, sleek bullet train unlike any Raven had ever seen. It had no windows, and only loading doors on the cars behind its long engine. "S.T.A.R. Labs owns a few robotic trains. They're totally unmanned, they've got environmental seals, which makes them perfect for hauling hazardous material cross-country."
She folded her arms. "Okay, I'm up to speed. So one of them is being hijacked?"
Cyborg double-checked his screen. "Doubt it. It looks like one sensor got tripped on one door of one car. Probably just a loose wire. The train's still moving, so it should be okay. Still, it's worth checking out. Considering everything they've done for me, it's the least I can do."
As he rose, Raven followed him with a suspicious look. "You mean it's the least 'we' can do. S.T.A.R. Labs has helped us all out," she said.
Cyborg shook his head. "I can handle this one alone. Everybody's tired after that business with the Tyrants today. Besides, if I call everybody up here now, the out-of-towners might feel like they gotta go too, which could cause trouble for them back home. Better I check this out myself. I figure I'll buzz the train before it hits city limits, do a visual."
As he stood to leave, Raven said, "And what exactly are you going to buzz that train in? Finish any new vehicles since this morning?"
The question froze Cyborg halfway out of his seat. He groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose, as he remembered the unfinished rebuilds waiting in his Bay. Peering over his knuckles, he looked pleadingly to Raven. "How about a lift? You pop a portal to the train? I wouldn't even need a portal back. I can just ride the train into town."
Lifting an eyebrow, Raven said, "I'm not so sure I should do that. You're injured—"
"It's just a scratch!"
"—and the others deserve to know when you're leaving them behind. They wouldn't like the idea of you gallivanting off on your own. They would want to help out," she said pointedly.
Cyborg's jaw clenched. "That's how it's gonna be, huh?"
She folded her arms. "Titans Together, right?"
Heaving a sigh, Cyborg said, "Fine. One hour of monitor duty a day, and you don't bother the other guys with this little jaunt."
"Six. I keep my mouth shut, and you get a direct portal to the train."
"Two daytime hours, and someone stays with you in the Compound at all times," he said. "Take it or leave it."
Jabbing a finger at him, Raven said, "And you talk to the rest of us before you tear down the Tower."
"Deal." He grasped her hand, pumping it with a victorious smile on his face. "Sucker. I would have gone as high as three hours."
When he tried to pull his hand away, Raven held him fast. "You know, I haven't opened a portal for you yet."
Clearing his throat, Cyborg glanced back at his console. "Since you're so eager, you can get started with some of the little stuff. It looks like we got a couple of non-emergency calls while we were out. Run through the messages—"
She shot him an icy look as she drew her hands together, culling shadow from thin air into a portal. "I think I can manage your busywork. I'm still a part of this team, fetus or no fetus."
"Hell, Raven," Cyborg said, fording through her portal with a smile. "Right now, you're a part and a half. Be back in a little bit."
"Have fun," Raven grumbled before her darkness swallowed him whole.
She pinched the dimensional fissure shut, and then plopped down into his chair, sighing with her feet's relief. A few keystrokes reconfigured the console to her preferences. In the corner of her screen, she saw three audio messages waiting, none of them urgent, and all of them from S.T.A.R. Labs.
She frowned at the message icons. "Hmm. I guess it could be a coincidence," she mused. Then she frowned at her own foolishness, and tapped the screen, activating the messages' playback.
"Message One."
Cyborg stepped from thin air onto smooth, rattling stainless steel. As the portal closed behind him, he pushed into a fierce wind that pulled at his face and whistled off of his armor. Electromagnets in his feet gripped the surface beneath him while he took his bearings.
He stood atop the rearmost car of the long auto-train. At the far end, the oversized pilot engine pulled a half-dozen sealed, cylindrical cargo cars, all of which wore S.T.A.R. Labs' acronym on their sealed doors.
The tracks the train rode plowed through the desolate wasteland east of Jump City. Sandy soil and sage rushed by, blurring into a pale brown smear flecked with stubborn instances of green. Halfway to the horizon, the lush valley of the city waited, its skyscrapers looming like monoliths of civilization.
Cyborg let his gaze trail from the distant city to the train's engine, and then down the line of cars. At first glance, the situation seemed as boring as he had expected. He would check the train's cars one by one, linking to their wireless monitor systems to find the faulty sensor. Then he could look forward to a quiet ride on top of the train all the way back to the city.
His idle dreams of a quiet evening were dashed when he saw something clinging to the side of a car halfway between him and the train's engine. He leaned against the wind, telescoping his sight upon the shape protruding from the car's smooth metal side. The shape billowed with a brown leather cloak that obscured the car's door. Whatever it was that wore the cloak was working at the electronic controls of the door.
"A train job. You have got to be kidding me," Cyborg said. "Did Raven's portal send me back in time?"
He began power-walking across the tops of the cars, careful to keep at least one magnetic foot connected, lest the wind yank him off the train. After minutes of terse stomping, and a careful jump across cars, he stood atop the threatened car and its thief.
Leaning down on one knee, Cyborg said to the oblivious thief, "Gotta give you props, man. I didn't think anybody pulled heists like this anymore. And I'm impressed that you only tripped the door sensor. S.T.A.R. has some serious chops when it comes to security. I know, I helped design it."
The thief continued to work without acknowledging Cyborg's presence. With glinting hands, the thief pried the car's control box open, and plucked at the wires inside.
Sighing, Cyborg reached down. "C'mon, don't make this a thing. You made a good effort, but you got caught. Just give up nice and easy, and save a little—"
When he grasped the thief's cloak, the hood came loose, catching the wind and tearing away from the thief's head. The hood unveiled a silver skull, its surface gleaming with immaculate polish. Two wide, empty red sockets burned at Cyborg as the skull looked up at him.
"—face?" squeaked Cyborg.
Message One:
Hello, Titans! This is Doctor Brown at S.T.A.R. Labs, hoping my message finds you well. I was actually calling for Victor. I've got a big surprise for him, one that he's sure to find exciting. Victor, call me back as quickly as you can.
He reeled back, feeling the tip of a skeletal claw nick his chin. His armored backside skipped across the top of the car until his feet fell flat, anchoring him magnetically. As he pushed himself back up, he watched the cloaked metal thief clamber up the round side of the car, its claws sinking into the steel.
The wind caught the thief's cloak hard. It whipped off, lost to the Doldrums, and revealed the thief in whole. Pistons formed the majority of its legs, hissing with power as its clawed feet clamped into the car. Its spindly arms bracketed a thin, tubular, grisly metal ribcage, under which a menagerie of servos and circuitry pulsed.
Cyborg glowered at the skeletal automaton. A cold pang of familiarity blossomed in his synthetic stomach as he watched the skeleton stomp toward him, fighting the wind. "Well, that makes my job easier," Cyborg growled. His arm mechamorphed, bringing its sonic aperture to bear on the skeleton.
Above the roar of the wind and the thunderous clacking of the tracks, Cyborg heard a percussive cacophony of claws rending metal. Behind the skeleton, at the edge of the car, three new hoods poked up from the gap between cars. The hoods caught the wind and blew back, revealing three more metal skulls that glared at Cyborg, their malevolence unblinking.
Doffing their hoods, the three new skeletons climbed up the side of the car and clanked across its roof to join the other in menacing Cyborg. They formed a line that spanned the top of the car.
"Huh. That makes it less easy," muttered Cyborg. He lifted his arm, bringing his communicator online, bracing himself to eat Raven's crow for his earlier confidence.
Before he could shout a single word, a hand reached from behind him to grasp his forearm. The armor around his communicator squealed and crumpled beneath the quick hand. Cyborg howled as his forearm collapsed into a mash of useless components, cutting him off from his hand and rendering everything below the elbow a crumpled, immobile club.
He whirled blindly swept the air behind him with sonic fire. A fifth cloak pulled away from him, ducking beneath his wild shot. The wind at its back pulled the figure's cloak tighter around its body, obscuring it totally. Only a single, glowing eye pierced the shadow of its hood.
Striking between Cyborg's shots, the figure thrust two fingers through the sonic cannon's aperture. The lens of the cannon shattered as the fingers plunged into delicate components. As the figure's hand pulled back, Cyborg felt his cannon cough and die. He swung it like a bat, but the figure danced backward, somehow adhering to the roof of the car on nimble tiptoes.
"I didn't expect such a rapid response, Victor," the figure said, his voice straining to be heard above the roar of the wind. "Certainly not for such an innocuous, obvious sensor-glitch such as this. Is excessive paranoia a side effect of your faulty design, or merely a character flaw?"
The voice combined with the sight of the robots to strike a chord in Cyborg's memory. He flexed his useless cannon back into a hand as he peered into the hood, trying to spy the face that matched the voice. "It can't be… Doctor Smith?"
"Hello, Victor," Doctor Walter Smith said. His hooded head tilted slightly in a nod. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you at all. I have seen the blueprints for these new implants of yours. By their slipshod design, I had expected you to expire some time ago. Congratulations on surviving."
"I should say the same thing about you," Cyborg spat. He let his mouth run on autopilot as he considered his situation, which seemed to worsen with each passing second. "I thought we left you in your underground lair about to die. Didn't some idiot drop the roof on you? No, wait. That was you."
Smith lifted his arm at Cyborg. Amidst the streaming cloak, Cyborg saw Smith's fingers, black as polished night, jutting from the cuff of a tattered lab coat. Before Cyborg's eyes, he saw the fingers slide back and rearrange themselves into a familiar aperture, one that bathed Cyborg in a blue glow.
"Charming to the last," Smith said.
Cyborg ducked under a screaming stream of compression waves. The miss struck one of the robots behind him, shattering its chest with sonic force. A shower of components flew into the train's wake as the robot's torso disintegrated, leaving behind a set of clawed legs clutched into the car's roof.
Punching with his dead hand, Cyborg smashed the aperture between shots, crumpling the end of Smith's surprising cannon. The villainous scientist retreated several steps to collect his ruined weapon back into a hand. "Looks like you've been through some changes," Cyborg said.
"More than you think, Victor." Smith's reassembled hand grasped the edge of his fluttering cloak and threw it aside. The leather sheaf whipped away, unveiling a sight that stole Cyborg's breath.
Half of Smith's face glistened with a metallic sheen. The glow of his hood revealed itself to be a round, red optical implant that mirrored Cyborg's. Underneath Smith's oily lab coat pumped a myriad of devices, whole sections of his body replaced by cold machinery that was partially obscured by bolted metal plating. Like his hand, both his legs had been replaced, now piston-like facsimiles tipped with feet reminiscent of boots.
A vulgar smirk crossed the fleshy half of Smith's face as he stared down Cyborg's shock. "How does it feel, Victor, knowing that you are no longer alone? But where you languish in your nature, I revel. You children thought to leave me for dead. Well, now I have become more alive than any mere organic."
"Man…" Cyborg breathed. "You are one messed-up puppy, Doc."
"So says the troglodyte," Smith said. "But when I obtain your father's work, I will become even more than I am now. And I won't be stopped by the likes of you."
Cyborg jolted at his words. "My father? What does my father—?"
He never got the chance to finish the question as three sets of claws closed around him from behind. Working as one, Smith's three skeletons wrenched Cyborg's feet free of the car. He yelped as they swung him high over the side of the car, launching him clear of the train.
Message Two:
Hello, this is Doctor Brown again. Victor, I know I said I had a surprise for you, but as you're taking your good time in calling back, my patience has run its course, and I can't contain myself any longer. Curse my scientific whimsy!
I know, I'm acting foolish, but with good reason. We found your father's project, Victor. It was lying in Metropolis' Archives, seemingly misplaced since at least the last inventory. I'm having the experiment's sample shipped immediately to the Jump City facility. It's riding the Labs' auto-train, so at least we know it will get here safely.
I've also had the notes attached to the project transferred here electronically. I've only had a chance to skim them so far, but what I've found is positively amazing. You must contact me with an available time. If you could know what your father was working on, you would be tripping over yourself to see it sooner.
The arid ground rushed up and slammed into Cyborg. He tucked his arms and legs and bounced alongside the train tracks, grunting with each blow the desert dealt him. Cactus and sage exploded across his armor as he tumbled through the worst of the terrain, finally stopping against a squat bolder at the foot of the tracks.
Groaning, he stood. A mess of aches and minor alignment problems jumbled together under his armor, which had weathered the fall with only a few dents to show for it. The tail end of the train glinted at him, already several hundred yards away and growing more distant by the second.
Then his aural sensors isolated a new sound, one nearly lost in the clacking of the train. He heard the distinctive growl of a plasma-powered engine, and zeroed in on its source. Stretching his vision, he saw a small dust cloud approaching the train from the side, crossing the Doldrums' flats at reckless speeds.
"That your getaway car, Smith? Well, too bad," Cyborg growled. "I've got a few new tricks of my own, too."
At his silent command, the armor of his back ratcheted apart. A quartet of small thrusters extended from the openings. As he launched himself into a run after the train, he cried, "Jog Jets, maximum sprint!"
The thrusters alighted in a hiss, and pushed the air behind Cyborg with blue-white fire. Cyborg felt the thrust press into him with incredible force. His gait elongated until he was covering ten yards in a single step, and then twenty yards, and then more. Jet-propelled, he ran after the train and the mysterious new cloud that pulled up alongside it.
As he began catching up to the train, he concentrated on the cloud, focusing his optics to pierce its haze. He caught sight of a red, narrow chassis before a dark shape darted from the cloud and onto the end of the train, drawing his gaze to follow it.
The new shape streamed a black wing behind it as it struggled up the length of the train's last car. Cyborg saw the shape turn back at him, revealing a face that struck Cyborg with relief and surprise. "No freaking way," he muttered in disbelief, as he jogged well over a hundred miles an hour.
Sonic thrust burst from the bottoms of Cyborg's soles, catapulting him into a long, high arc. His legs wheeled beneath him as he watched the ground dip away and then come back. His feet slammed into the last car of the train, punching two divots into its roof while his magnets grabbed hold of the alloy again.
He turned to face the caped figure struggling up the length of the car behind him. "You are about the third-to-last person I expected to see today, man," Cyborg called above the roar of the wind. "The list goes: Jesus, Santa Claus, and you."
Bracing himself against the roof with black gloves, Robin squinted up at Cyborg, and called back, "You expect to see Santa Claus before you see Jesus?"
"Seriously, I'm glad to see you and all," Cyborg said, and offered Robin a helping hand. "But what the hell are you doing here? How are you even here-here, anyway? We're in the middle of nowhere!"
Robin ignored the hand. He stood, tilting forward at a forty-five degree angle, and stomped into the wind. "My bike's computer is still linked to the Titan Alert system. I saw the minor alert, and did some cross-checking with S.T.A.R. Labs' manifests. When I noticed the sensitive cargo with your father's name on it, I knew something might be wrong. Since I was passing through, I thought I should look into it."
Cyborg snorted. "Just 'passing through,' huh? Your new freelance work bring you out West?"
"Maybe we should focus on the maniac who threw you off the train," Robin said.
"What the hell is he after, anyway?" Cyborg walked behind Robin, ready to catch the grim Teen Wonder should the wind get the better of him.
He needn't have worried. Spikes slid from the soles of Robin's boots, punching footholds into the steel. He stomped his way toward the imperiled car, keeping his body low to the train to streamline himself. "I don't know. It's some project that S.T.A.R. Metropolis recovered recently from its archives. It has your father's name on it. That's all I know."
Flexing his remaining hand, Cyborg growled, "So let's go ask these junk piles and find out. After you."
In the time it had taken Cyborg to catch up to the train, Smith's robots had carved a hole in the roof of the car. The skeletal trio knelt around the roof's tattered breach, waiting in unnatural stillness. Smith had vanished, presumably down into the car's interior.
When Robin's boots touched down on the car roof, the skeletons rose at once and as one. By the time Cyborg thumped down onto the roof beside Robin, the skeletons had spread out to block the two teens from their breach.
"You hit 'em low, and I'll hit em—" Cyborg began to quip.
"Get to the hole," Robin shouted, and sprang forward.
Ribbons of electricity danced over Robin's gloves as he smashed through the middle of the skeletons' line. His fists drove convulsions into their servos as he struck their frames. Hollow ringing heralded each punch, painful for Cyborg to even listen to.
The skeletons swarmed around Robin, their claws groping in the wake of his acrobatic evasion. As they chased the Teen Wonder to the far side of the car, absorbing his blows and seeking to return them in kind, they left the breach in the roof unguarded.
Cyborg grimaced as he trundled up to the hole. His sonic cannon was out of commission, and his remaining weaponry would blow Robin off the roof along with his attackers, leaving Cyborg powerless to help his erstwhile friend. Robin seemed to be keeping ahead of the skeletons' grasp. Cyborg just hoped it remained that way.
Smith's balding, alloyed head emerged from the breach, rising smoothly on his piston legs. The old scientist spotted Cyborg coming for him, and hoisted himself from the train car as quickly as he could. A large metal cylinder clutched in his fleshy hand slowed him down, giving Cyborg time enough to reach him.
"Stay away, Victor!" snapped Smith. "I won't be denied what's rightfully mine."
The label on the cylinder Smith clutched flashed into view. Cyborg scowled when he saw the name on the label. "Rightfully yours? That's my dad's!" he bellowed.
Smith tried to keep it out of Cyborg's reach, but, despite his own brilliant cybernetic implants, the Titan was still larger than he was, and had a far greater reach. Cyborg's hand closed around the end of the canister. Smith grasped the other end with both hands, pulling with all of his might.
"If the Lab had not foolishly terminated me, I would have made this discovery. Instead, Silas stumbled into it, like the clumsy inferior he was. I won't be denied my place in history because of short-sighted employers," Smith shouted.
"Let go!" snarled Cyborg.
At the fringe of the battle, Robin backed to the edge of the car, trapped by the clustered swarm of skeletons. Open air and rushing desert lay beneath the edge of his heel, promising a painful end should he fall.
The skeletons surged forward to force him off the car. Robin slid, ducking underneath their snatching claws, reaching into his utility belt as he slipped between their legs. A quick slap to each back of the robots' rib cages planted an explosive, adhesive disc to his would-be killers. Robin grabbed the edges of his cape and let the wind fill it like a sail, jumping back and away from the skeletal trio an instant before they vanished into concussive fire.
The explosion surprised Cyborg, filling his hand with more strength than he needed. As well-built as the canister was, it couldn't compete with his mechanical might. It crumpled in his hand, breaking its hermetic seal with a loud pop.
"No!" Smith screamed.
Ribbons of viscous silver liquid dribbled from the canister's crushed end. The substance clung to Cyborg's hand, slithering up his arm with the force of the wind. Cyborg winced at the substance covering his hand, but held on tighter, determined to win the canister, even if its contents had been ruined in the recovery.
Panicking, Smith pulled harder, wrapping his mechanical hand around the canister. His added strength proved to be too much for even a canister as fine as this, for it twisted and tore apart. Silver fluid exploded between them, bursting from the ruins of the canister. Smith caught a handful of the substance before a majority of it spattered across Cyborg.
As Robin staggered the length of the car, trying to get back to Cyborg, he saw Smith clutch his hand with a scream. The cybernetic scientist reeled away from the breach in the roof, howling, his one remaining eye spread wide with agonized terror as he toppled over the side of the car.
Robin leapt, collapsing at the side of the rounded car with his arm outstretched. He felt Smith's oily lab coat slide through his fingers, and saw Smith's final look. Then he turned away and squeezed his eyes shut as Smith disappeared under the grinding wheels of the train. Smith's scream vanished as quickly as he did, subsumed by the clacking of the wheels on the track.
Rising slowly, Robin turned back to Cyborg. The massive Titan knelt on the roof of the car, running his hands through the thick silver sludge that clung to his front and arm. "Are you all right?" Robin asked, and shouldered his fluttering cape out of his face.
Cyborg made a face as he pulled at the sludge. "I could use a shower. All told, though, I think I'm—"
He stopped, stunned, as the sludge began to move on its own. At first he attributed its ripple to the fierce winds atop the train. But when the silvery substance began to crawl up his arm, against the wind, he felt a stab of concern.
He brushed harder at the sludge, trying to pry it off his skin. The sludge resisted, persevering up the lines of his armor, until it reached the tiny nick in his arm carved by Ravager's sword. With a mind and a plan all its own, the sludge began seeping into the exposed circuitry in his arm, vanishing from sight.
"Cyborg!" Robin cried, and pointed. The sludge spread across Cyborg's chest wriggled into the seams of his armor, soaking through unperceivable gaps in Cyborg's seals. In seconds, no trace of the sludge remained, save for half a ruined canister in Cyborg's hand.
Tense moments ticked by, meted out by the steady thrum of Cyborg's mechanical heart. He waited for an error message to appear in his vision, or for systems to begin going offline. He waited, and felt nothing.
Standing slowly, he said to Robin, "I think I'm okay. It didn't…ow. Ow. Ow. Ow!"
Cyborg's sharp cries became a scream that scraped his throat raw as his body burned white hot. Pain like nothing he had ever felt before ate him from the inside out. He collapsed onto his knees and clutched his chest, doubled over with agony.
Robin reached out to help, even as he had no idea of how to begin. As he reached for Cyborg's shoulder, he recoiled from the silvery fluid leaking from its seams.
The same fluid that had crawled into Cyborg now crawled out of him. It punched its way through his joints, and ate new holes in his armor, dissolving everything it touched into more silvery sludge. It dribbled from Cyborg's nose, and rolled down his cheek as tears, stripping away the flesh it crossed.
Message Three:
Victor, this is Doctor Brown again. Do we need to discuss how voice mail works? These aren't messages from the great beyond, Victor. As such, it's considered rude not to return them.
I've been reading your father's research. Quite frankly, I'm astounded. What we have here could completely change the study of life sciences. It should be arriving this afternoon. You must, must, must call me back. Or better yet, simply come to the Labs when you get this. I could make a career studying your father's project. I doubt very much anything else will even warrant my attention for the next year, much less today.
Absolutely phenomenal. Silas somehow invented a means of redefining life itself, all in the quest to help his son. You should be proud of your father, Victor. He's done a great thing here.
"H-Help…" Cyborg pleaded in a choked fraction of his voice. He tried to scream, but the sludge had taken his chest. He tried to reach out to Robin, and watched his hand melt before his dissolving eyes. He coughed his last breath, and sprayed the Teen Wonder with a spatter of silver that had once been his lungs.
Robin gaped in horror as Cyborg's shape succumbed to the silver substance. The Titan's wracked expression vanished last, hollowing out into a liquid parody of pain before it sank into the rest of what Cyborg had been. The heavy substance poured backwards into the breach in the train, drawn by the dents left by the battle, until it vanished entirely, leaving no trace of the Titan behind.
The Teen Wonder grasped at the last trickle of the substance as it fell into the train. His hand broke the stream, gathering a fine coat of the sludge. It clung to his gloves as he fell to his knees, dumbstruck by the sudden, senseless loss.
"No…" he whispered, staring at the silver residue. "Cyborg…"
To Be Continued