A/N: So I finished the first section of this chapter, the first Ja'Riha part, and was like "Wow, this is practically 4k words already, should I just upload this as a chapter?" but no, I'm trying to move away from worrying about chapter length (or not being long enough), so I decided to put in what I had originally planned, until I reached a good point to end the chapter. Plus all of this is more or less during the same day, so it seems easier if I keep it all in a single chapter.
Even though I said all that, this isn't actually the complete chapter I had in my head, whoops. I don't really have anything against super large chapter, but I think that it makes people feel like there's more of a break between reading, so they don't get bored reading 20k words in one go. But maybe it's just me.
I'm also aware that this isn't the correct spelling of bizarre, but it should make sense as you read the first part. Hopefully. Maybe. Also, it feels like forever, since I uploaded, so apologies for that. Some of you are reading my other stuff, which is partly the reason, plus I was a little stuck on where to go for this chapter (and the next which is basically just a continuation of this one) until recently. Anyway, thank you to all you reviewers and readers, hope you enjoy this and don't have to wait too long for me to do the next part!
Chapter 4 - Bizaar
Ja'Riha looked down at Raven's slightly tossing form - Plagued by nightmares, no doubt,he thought - purple hair splayed over the pillows, and growled with frustration, wishing he could help her recover quicker. Assuming she would have let him, of course. It had been about a day since she stirred from sleep that first time, but so far there had been nothing else except her tossing and turning, and crying out once during the night. That had had him jumping from his chair in surprise, half expecting some kind of attack.
Sighing, he turned away from her restless form and walked around behind the shelves next to the beds, bending down next to some inconspicuous cardboard boxes on the lowest rack near the wall. He pulled one of them out and then opened it, rummaging around inside before pulling out a small, intricately carved wooden box, handling it gently. The box was made from a single Ash tree and the carvings were actually magical protections and bindings. It, like some of its counterparts he had hidden elsewhere, were some of the first things he'd acquired when he'd come to the human realm and their magic was specifically tuned to his life force - if anyone other than him tried to open them, the protections would fail and they would be driven mad almost instantly, with some few exceptions. Sliding the top open, Ja'Riha behold what was, essentially, the work of a lifetime - ten large, silver coins, slightly smaller than the palm of his hand. On one side stood the imprint of a single flame and on the other, double gates that were chained shut. Not much to look at from a normal perspective, but in the magic and demon circles, these ten coins alone made him the equivalent of a millionaire. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, he loathed the sight of them. But they were a necessity.
Sliding the lid closed again, he shut his eyes as memories of blood and fire filled his mind and the sound of past screams filled his ears, the feeling of flesh and the stickiness of blood replacing the feel of wood beneath his hands. He'd payed dearly for these coins and the others like them he'd spread around. He only hoped it would be worth the cost in the end - no, he had to make it worth the cost. He opened his eyes and stood up, box in hand, and made his way to the table he'd spent the last day and a half at. He grabbed a plain backpack from underneath, a few select items already inside in case of emergencies, unzipped the top and lightly placed his small fortune inside before closing it up again and swinging it over his left shoulder. He was dressed for an excursion outside, in faded out jeans, a long sleeved shirt covered in a baggy hoody, comfortable sneakers on his feet and a beanie on his head with dark glasses perched atop it. Overall, perhaps a bit suspicious looking for a mild Summer day, but it shouldn't take long to get to where he needed to go, and there it wouldn't raise much of an eyebrow.
He looked at Raven again as he headed to the 'door'. He hated to leave her in such a vulnerable state, even for the hopefully short amount of time he would be gone, but he had a debt to pay, thus the coins, and he also wanted to see what kind of rumors were floating around on the streets. Well, if anythin' happens I should be able ta get back 'ere quick enough, Ja'Riha thought as he bid Raven a silent farewell, promising to be back as soon as he could. He then continued to make his way silently across the room and to the stairs leading up, before stopping at the slab of cement that was his door. Before he opened it, he sent his senses out to the other side, making sure there was no one lurking about. He'd never used this hide-out much after he'd first outfitted it and that had been years ago, so he wasn't sure how the habits of the people and workers in the area might have changed. Either way, it seemed no one was close by, so he drew the opening rune in the center and quickly ducked out when it had risen high enough to allow him to do so.
Sensing the door reverse it's upward motion once he was out, he quickly strode to the entrance of the dead-end he was standing in and poked his head out into the main path, after putting his sunglasses on and pulling his hood up over his head. Though he hadn't sensed anyone nearby, he hadn't gotten this far in his life by being careless, and seeing a suspiciously dressed stranger to the area walk out of a dead-end behind buildings would surely spark people's interest if they saw it. Interest was something he would like to avoid for as long as possible, if he could. The way was clear, so he made sure his hood and beanie were covering his horns properly, then stepped out onto the path and made his way away from the docks and warehouses as casually as he could, one hand in a pocket and the other holding the straps of his backpack.
His destination was an enclosed Bazaar just off the middle of the city, about a fifteen to twenty minute walk from where he currently was, if he used some shortcuts. Mostly the place was for local or small and obscure businesses, who couldn't get into the larger shopping centers around Jump, or for some reason if they just didn't want to. The prices were a lot more affordable to most people and the atmosphere was light and jovial, so it was a great place to just hang out and relax, listening to people barter light heartedly, some of the sellers crying out their wares, to just wander and browse without worry. Unfortunately, his trip today would be anything but relaxing. While the Bazaar was his destination, it was a specific section of it that he needed to visit, a bazaar within a bazaar. Officially it didn't have a name, but some of the regulars jokingly called it the Bizaar, a play on words that got older every time he heard it.
Before Ja'Riha knew it, he started entering more populated streets and some heavy traffic on the roads, as opposed to the few people he'd passed coming out of the Docks. Keeping his head down and his ears open, he started listening in for anything that might be of interest, or just in case people started calling the police on him. It had happened once or twice before, to his great annoyance. Crossing busy streets with the rest of the people going about their daily lives, he heard nothing of real interest; 'So-and-so was getting a divorce', 'How happy you must be about your promotion!', 'Isn't crime picking up lately?' 'Glad the Titans are here to take care of it!'. The usual mundane stuff, though I s'pose I should be thankful, he thought as he passed in front of a large pizza place at a Y intersection, sighing as he picked up the pace a little, anxious to get his errand over with.
"Did you hear what happened just down the road from the Antarks?" the furtive whisper of a middle-aged woman came to Ja'Riha's ears. "Apparently one of the houses on the block turned into steel overnight! Just like that, all of a single piece too! What's the world coming to?"
So, he thought as he glanced over to where the whispered conversation was taking place, looks like I wasn't a moment too soon in findin' Raven. Not such a mundane day after all. The news wasn't surprising, he'd heard similar things plenty of times over the past few years, but the severity and frequency were increasing more rapidly than he'd thought. It seemed like there wasn't a lot of time left, and he still hadn't gotten around to asking Raven for help. He growled in frustration, and a small dog being walked past him started barking at his back as he kept walking, the dog's owner getting increasingly frustrated at what was normally a placid pet.
After he'd started moving quicker, he reached the Bazaar in short order, coming up to the large building's southern side. He stood for a moment and simply looked at it. It wasn't a particularly old building, like some of the ones that could be found around the area, but it had been built in an older style, brick and mortar, rather than cement and steel. Curves and arches, rather than sharp angles. The building had a domed roof and was mostly red brick, with the entrances on each side being large double arches. In place of windows, there were large, radially geometric cut-outs higher up in the walls to ventilate the building, which he knew could be blocked from the inside when it rained. So much more appealing to Ja'Riha than the giant buildings of metal that tried to pierce the skies. Buildings like this were almost an art form.
It seems like business is brisk 'ere as usual, he thought as he merged with the flow of people entering through one of the arches, watching the trickle that exited through the other. The sun disappeared from view as he entered the building, but he kept his shades on, at least for now - they didn't really hinder his vision, and they kept the colour of his eyes hidden. The arches formed a short tunnel, and as soon as he stepped out of it, the noise of the Bazaar proper washed over him like a wave, easing a tension in his shoulders he hadn't known was there. Ja'Riha slowly made his way deeper inside, passing through beams of light and stopping at various stalls or in front of small shop windows, exchanging a word with an owner here or a shopper there. The Bazaar was a completely different place to the modern shopping center, like something out of time. The stalls and shops were layed out in a rough circle around the inside the building, surrounding a central open space in the very middle. In that open space, underneath the dome, was a resting area with various food stalls and some plant life, which was accessed by smaller arches and tunnels similar to the entrance ones, but slightly more numerous. It was one of these in particular that Ja'Riha was searching for.
Quite aside from the fact that it was never in the same spot, if a regular human - and in most cases, meta-human - were to pass in front of it, they wouldn't even notice it was there. Subtle magic had been woven around this one particular entrance that turned peoples attention away from it, subconsciously. Those with a magical inclination, either from study or born to it, perceived it differently. To them it glowed brightly in their sight, a welcoming light of gold, beckoning them to enter and see wonders both strange and mystical. Finally spotting the golden glow from around the bend, Ja'Riha hurried his steps and approached the arch, foot traffic thinning between one step and the next as he approached. This time it was situated between a shop selling pottery and a stall with a large variety of cloth. Taking a deep breath, he gripped his backpack tighter and stepped forward into the magically infused arched tunnel - to find himself stepping out of it in the same direction he entered, into a mirror image of the Bazaar.
The abrupt transition had left him disoriented the first time he'd made this trip, like it did with almost all newcomers, but he'd visited enough times now to be used to it, only stopping long enough to get his bearings on the latest position of the entrance. Passing in front of him, and occasionally stepping around him to either enter or exit, was a vast mixture of humans and magical beings - Jump wasn't the only city this particular place connected to, so there were more people than you would normally expect. The mixture was predominantly human - witches, warlocks, sorcerers and the like - with a few dimension travelers, a decent amount of various half-breeds and a smaller selection of the full-blooded kind - things like the Fae or trolls or other 'mythological' creatures. He even sensed, though not saw, a pure elemental or two, though he understood it was rare for them to mingle with crowds. Or just at all.
Looking through the gaps between all these people, he could see that he was on what was essentially the Enchanting side of the 'Bizaar', with shops selling already Enchanted items, or the stock items to do it yourself, with blocks of wood, chunks of metal and a wide assortment of herbs and other essences. Dividing the shops into their basic 'schools' of magic was mostly a way to try and keep volatile accidents from non-compatible magics or chemicals to a minimum, though it wasn't always successful. But it did help make it easier to navigate, since the actual layout inside didn't change every other day, like the entrance. Ja'Riha's errand was in one of the 'gray' areas between sections, specifically between the Evocation and Alchemy sections. From where he was standing now, he'd be almost retracing his steps entirely from the opposite, 'normal' side.
Almost, I could wish that the entrance this time had been closer to my goal, he sighed to himself. Not because he was particularly impatient to be done, though in truth he was, but because as he started walking past shops he couldn't help but stop and peruse their wares and be tempted into making a purchase - or ten. It was an effect from his life of enslavement, he knew. Always, he had been giving only what was needed, and more often than not had it taken away again. Nothing had been truly his own, not even his life. Once he'd gotten his freedom and come into some currency, suddenly he could own whatever he wanted and no one would come to take it away from him. Like now, he'd mostly been able to resist the urge to go on a massive spending spree and buy everything that caught his fancy, but it was a struggle at times. But it helped that he knew that a relative newcomer to the scene, throwing around the kind of coins he carried like they were nothing, would arouse too much suspicion, so he'd kept his spending to the bare minimum - for the most part, which was partly where his current trip came into it. Information. Information was the one thing he needed above all else, and it was never cheap.
Pulling himself away from both his memories and a display of amulets and necklaces - noticing one with an active low-level suggestion charm to make people stop and look - he continued on to his destination, trying to remain inconspicuous as he passed through the Evocation shops, another reason he wasn't impressed with the location of the entrance this time. Generally speaking, evocation was considered the more powerful of the basic magics, so this area of the place tended to attract those types, who were usually more perceptive than most of the mediocre talent that otherwise shopped here. He wasn't too worried about them recognizing what he was, though half-demons were pretty rare, but was more concerned with them picking up on what he carried, even if the possibility was low, due to what he was carrying them in. But low didn't mean non-existent, so he tried to hurry without seeming to.
Finally, without apparent incident, he was standing in front of the rather run-down storefront that was his ultimate destination. Apart from looking old, the outside wasn't too bad, because of the cleaning spells spaced throughout the bazaar. But looking through the display window, one could see that the inside was a different matter. Cobwebs were a prominent feature in the corners or between items that clearly hadn't been moved in years, if the dust build up was any indication. The merchandise was strewn haphazardly around, with no clear organization put into it, moldy books sitting next to crystals or a sword, a suit of dull armor with a brightly feathered cap on it's helmet and, ironically, a duster in one hand. What ever possessed me ta ever go inside 'ere the first time? Ja'Riha wondered to himself, half amused, as he entered the shop, the bell over the door giving out a sickly ring and half burnt candles giving off a dim light, where they weren't blown out or burnt all the way down. While the place did sell what was on the shelves - though rarely, that much was obvious - the owner's actual trade was as an information broker, which was why he was here. Apart from helping Ja'Riha out with useful tidbits over the years, this was actually where he'd finally heard about Raven's location.
"Ah, a customer, give me a moment and I shall be right there," a dry, male voice came from the back as Ja'Riha looked over the shelves, careful not to disturb the dust, seeing if there was anything new since his last visit.
"Young master, what a pleasant surprise. Back from your excursion I see, free of harm," that same, calm voice said from behind him.
Turning around, he beheld the master of the shop. He was an older man, with hair gone completely white reaching past his shoulders. What could be seen of his face under the flat, wide straw hat with a down-turned brim was lined from age, with more white hair forming a short beard and a long, drooping mustache. He was dressed in a traditional looking, long flowing red robe, with hands currently tucked into the sleeves. Underneath that was another garment, black and closed with a white sash.
"Yeah, it went alright, and yer information was useful, so I'm 'ere to pay the rest," Ja'Riha said to the old man. He'd learned early on, in his time on Earth, that paying fully for something intangible like information before verifying it wasn't the smartest move. Or maybe he'd just gotten some dodgy people. Either way, since then he'd started doing a half-half deal. And if someone tried to shaft him, he sorted them out. Permanently. His dealings with this particular man had been good so far, though.
"It does my old heart good to see such a young man taking his obligations so seriously," the old man said, mouth smiling and an eye gleaming in the shadows beneath his hat. "I'm glad my small clues could be of use to you, paltry as they were," he continued, bowing slightly. Ja'Riha snorted at that - the old guy had practically drawn him a map.
"Yeah, yeah, anyway. Yer information helped me find what I was lookin' fer, so here's the rest of what I owe," Ja'Riha told the man, swinging his backpack off his shoulder and to the ground, unzipping it.
"If I may, young master, what was it you were looking for in that place?" Ja'Riha was asked, causing him to pause in the middle of rummaging around inside his pack, shooting the old man a sharp look and asking a question of his own.
"Why, someone else been askin' questions?" his voice was sharp as he said it. He had no illusions that this man, or any of the others he'd gone to with questions and money, wouldn't turn around and sell that same info to someone else, or tell them who had been asking after such things.
"No, no, simply my own curiosity getting the best of me, I assure you," the man said in a calm, reassuring voice. "You've been a good customer to me, and I expect you'll be so in the future too, so I wouldn't do anything as underhanded as selling out a client."
Ja'Riha grunted, appeased for now. "In that case, I wouldn't want ta spoil the challenge of finding out fer yerself," he said, getting a chuckle in return, as he opened the wooden box inside his bag and carefully extracted a single coin, holding it between thumb and forefinger as he pulled it out, using as little skin as possible. It wasn't dangerous to him, but he hated the sensations these things sent through his being. He closed the lid with his other hand then pulled them both out and held the coin up to the dim light inside the building. Hearing a slight gasp from the old man, who was usually perfectly in control of himself, Ja'Riha smiled. In the light, the silver coin he held up wasn't just a simple coin any longer, though it never had been. Both himself and the old man could see both sides of it shifting and bubbling, before the image of a face appeared, as if trying to push it's way out from inside the coin, trapped beneath the surface. The face was intricately detailed, so much so that you could see the pain in it's silver eyes, the wrinkles and lines on it's face from constantly being twisted in a scream of agony, mouth wide open in such a gesture already, teeth chipped or missing and a lump of scar tissue instead of a tongue, ragged beard picked out in threads of silver.
"A silver soul coin," the man whispered to himself, almost in awe.
"Ya got somethin' to hold this in, or can ye touch it yerself?" Ja'Riha asked him, keeping his voice emotionless as the feelings of the soul trapped in the coin slowly leaked into his mind.
The old man was silent for a moment, staring at what was held before his eyes, before he replied. "Yes, I think I have something that will serve," he said, before continuing with a question, "but how did you come by...that?".
"The previous owner...'gave' them ta me," Ja'Riha said, getting impatient and accidentally letting slip that he had more. "The container?" he prompted the other man, who blinked and shook off his surprise before walking out the back and re-appearing a moment later.
"Here, this should do," he said, holding up a small cloth bag, red with gold embroidery, which were probably magical in nature. Ja'Riha waited for him to open it, then slipped the coin in, just fitting it in the opening, glad to have it out of sight and touch. "You know I can't make change for something like this, right?" he was questioned.
"I'd 'ave been surprised if ye could," Ja'Riha told the man. In terms of soul currency, silver was just about the highest order, a more or less pure soul. Needless to say, not generally the type to make it's way to demons and the like. "But like I said, yer information was exactly what I was lookin' fer, so consider it a bonus," he said.
"Well now," the old man mused to himself, "that's very generous of you, young master." He slid the bag, now tightly closed, up a sleeve and contemplated Ja'Riha for a minute before seemingly coming to a decision.
"As thanks for that generosity, and something of a future investment on my part, allow me to give you a little something extra that I heard quite recently. It's not really something most other people would be interested in, anyway," he said to Ja'Riha. It wasn't why he had been so generous with his money, but he wouldn't turn down something that could potentially help him out later, so he waited for the old man to continue, letting the 'suspense' build and letting him have his moment. "Word on the grapevine is...Zatanna Zatara is back in town tomorrow," he finally revealed.
Ja'Riha kept a straight face, though barely. Zatanna Zatara, the main architect of Raven's prison, and from what else he'd heard, instrumental in putting her in there. It wasn't so much the news itself that had shocked Ja'Riha, he'd known she was out of town before he did the break-in and he definitely expected her back, but so soon...it didn't leave much time for preparation, she'd see through his flimsy defenses in short order. At least he had some warning, though. Speaking of which...
"What makes ye think her comings and goings are of interest to me?" he asked his wily informant calmly.
"I'm sure I don't know, young master," he said with a smile, "this humble old man just thought you should know. Especially since that facility you were looking for was largely her work," he continued.
"Thanks," Ja'Riha snorted, swinging his backpack back over his shoulder. Whoever this old man really was, he was certainly well informed, and holding his cards close to his chest. His question earlier about what he was looking for was probably just as false as his shop, a cover for something else. Well, whatever, Ja'Riha thought to himself, turning to go with a, "Take care of yerself old man, whoever you are."
"Me? I am but a humble shop owner, who happens to have a good ear," he said to Ja'Riha's back as he opened the door and left through it, that bell giving off another sick ring. "You take care of yourself too, young master," he said once the door had closed, the old man's sharp eyes noticing a shadow trailing Ja'Riha, "we have much business to do in the future."
Nightwing could hear metallic sounds and the beeping of electronics as he headed towards the door to the garage in Titans Tower. Looks like Cyborg's doing some maintenance on his 'baby', Nightwing thought to himself as the door swished open at his approach and the noises grew louder, the sound of cursing also drifting out. Seemed like he was having some trouble.
A drill started up as he entered and looked around, door closing behind him. The sight that met his eyes was a rather messy room, with parts of the T-Car disassembled and lying on the floor, the car itself raised up on a jack in the middle or the room and spare parts pulled off the shelves at the far end and littered everywhere. The garage was Cyborg's domain, so he never complained about any mess, except when it encroached on his bike in one corner, but even so, Cyborg usually kept the room in better condition than this. Whatever he's working on must be frustrating him, Nightwing pondered.
The man himself was muttering curses and standing under his upraised car, with his arms disappearing up underneath it and a computer terminal sticking up from the ground next to him, displaying blueprints of something, presumably whatever he was fixing or fiddling with.
"Yo Cyborg, having some trouble there?" he asked as he stepped around car parts and delicate electronics to approach the man. The drill sound stopped and Cyborg's hands moved for a moment before appearing from inside his car, a cable connecting his cybernetic arm to something inside it. He tapped a few keys on his arm, replying to Nightwing without turning around.
"Man, you have no idea. This magic sensor is driving me up the damn wall," he growled, as he reached over and swiped the screen on the terminal next to him, zooming in on the blueprints currently brought up, "almost makes me want to THROW THE DAMN PIECE OF CRAP IN THE TRASH!". With the yell, he yanked his cable out and used visible effort to stop himself from punching something, since his car was closest and he'd never do anything to hurt it. He started using both hands on the main terminal in front of him, swiftly bringing up and closing plans and files, trying to figure out why his equipment was on the fritz. Everything I look at checks out physically, there's no reason for it to be playing up! he shouted in his head, aware of Nightwing behind him.
Ah, so that's it, Nightwing realized, recalling Cyborg saying he'd try and re-calibrate his magic sensor at the meeting yesterday, I probably should have had this talk with him earlier. "Woah, why don't you take a second to relax Cyborg," Nightwing told him gently, putting a hand on Cyborg's shoulder, aware of the stress him and the rest of the team were under. "Have a quick break, I need to talk with you anyway. It will probably help with your sensor issues, though I don't think it's actually a problem with your equipment itself," he consoled the cybernetic man.
"Your damn right it ain't my equipment!" Cyborg muttered to himself, but stopped what he was doing and turned around to face his leader, intrigued by what he had to say. He also had to have a talk with Nightwing, ever since that team meeting, but he'd been putting it off, immersing himself in his car to distract himself. "So what's up man?" he asked to get the ball rolling.
"Alright, well first, I got those files from the police department about all those incidents they were calling us about the other day, as well as a bunch of others that seemed similar," Nightwing started, stepping around Cyborg and using the computer that was there to bring up said files. "I've already gone through them, most of them seem to have been solved or the culprit caught anyway, except for a couple, but I couldn't come up with any major links between the crimes that could indicate any external influence," he continued, bringing up some of his notes and comparisons for Cyborg to look at.
"Okay...and? While I'm happy you're keeping me in the loop, this kind of thing is really more up your alley than mine," Cyborg pointed out to Nightwing. He knew he'd mentioned to Nightwing that something might be up with all these crimes, but he didn't see what his leader was getting at.
"That's true, but I was hoping you could run the details through a program or two, just in case. I'd rather have someone double-check and prove me wrong then be blind sided by something down the track," Nightwing explained to his friend.
"Hmm, sure man, I guess I can do that," Cyborg said as he downloaded the files on the screen to his internal systems for later, "anything in particular you wanted me to run comparisons on?".
"Thanks Cyborg. And yeah, if you could...anything to do with magic," he said after a short pause, getting a raised brow from Cyborg. "You might get it when I tell you the next bit," he explained, ready to tell Cyborg about the magic incidents going on around the globe, "it also has to do with why Zatanna isn't here right now helping with the Raven thing, and probably why your sensor is playing up."
"I'm all ears man, lay it on me," Cyborg said firmly.
"Alright, well you might have heard parts of the whole already, there's a gag-order on the media but you know those things are never air-tight," he started off, surprising Cyborg already - gag-orders on the media were no small thing. "Essentially, for reasons unknown, magic has started acting up a lot lately, with sometimes benign results, but more often than not, fatal ones. And a lot of the time it's not even centered on a practitioner, none that have been found anyway," he continued explaining to the speechless Cyborg.
"Woah, dude, that explains some of the news reports that have popped up on my feeds. But why the media gag? Obviously the League know about these things happening, since I assume it's by their order?" Cyborg asked, trying to understand. But when he thought about it for a minute, he knew why. To stop a panic. If it was as widespread and big as Nightwing was implying, then there'd be a lot of people panicking, or harassing the governments the take care of the problem - the problem, in their minds, being magic practitioners. There was every chance it would end up a witch hunt, with even some heroes being targeted. Nightwing could see the comprehension on his friends face and confirmed it for him.
"That's right, to avoid mass panic. Nobody wants a repeat of the great Witch Hunts from so long ago, though it's doubtful it would go that far, but people can be unpredictable sometimes, and governments are just as bad when they think their power is being threatened, one way or another," Nightwing said. "Unfortunately, as you've already seen, it's impossible to keep a lid on the events completely. Word of mouth, the internet, or zealous reporters, there's numerous ways for it to get out, so the League is working overtime to keep it under wraps as much as possible until a cause is determined," he finished calmly.
"So that's where Zatanna is now? You said she was doing League work. She doesn't strike me as the 'clean up' type though. And you think all this might have something to do with my sensor playing up?" Cyborg asked, processing the news and working through what it might mean.
"I don't know any details about her job, but I'm under the impression that she's actually looking into a lead on what might be causing this," Nightwing explained, being mostly truthful. He did know some more details, but mostly just that she was working in Britain somewhere, and that the tip came from a man named Constantine, who the League apparently weren't too fond of working with, when they could help it. But whatever the tip was and whatever she was looking for, he had no idea. Not that I'd likely understand anyway, Nightwing thought with annoyance.
"As for your sensor," he continued, "yes, I believe it might be because of the magic incidents going on. I contacted the League and they seem to be having similar problems with their own equipment, though not everywhere."
Cyborg frowned at that. "It's not scrambling signals everywhere?" he asked, getting a nod from Nightwing. "And they didn't think that strange?" he questioned.
"I never asked, actually," Nightwing said in surprise, "but I would assume they've looked into it already. Still, you're right, it's worth checking out ourselves. I'll contact them again just to make sure they've looked, but in the meantime you should try to get something from your equipment," Nightwing suggested to Cyborg, "a pattern, or a concentration or something. If we're lucky, maybe we can at least start pinpointing where these things might happen and get the people out."
"Sure man, now that I know there's a reason for it, there's a few things I can try out," Cyborg agreed, with a slight rebuke in his voice for Nightwing keeping the information to himself until now. The public, he could kind of understand, but there should be no need to keep it from his team mates. "I might need one of the others to do some flying later and set up a couple of things around town," he said to Nightwing.
"That shouldn't be a problem, I'll let them know that you might call one of them later," Nightwing readily agreed as he turned and started making his way to the door. He was stopped short by his friend's voice speaking softly behind him, though.
"Why didn't you tell us, man?" Cyborg asked, staring hard at Nightwing's back. He was sure he'd know what he was talking about. That video Nightwing showed us, did any of the others put it together?
Nightwing's shoulder slumped as he sighed. He knew. His friend was talking about Raven's prison. "So, you noticed then. I thought you might have," he said, no way out of the conversation to come.
"Yeah, of course," Cyborg said bitterly. "I reconstructed what I could from the image, and a few other things I found, and it wasn't a pretty picture. How could you do that to her man? Even if we agreed with you to put her away, reluctantly, going that far..." he muttered, angry now. He strode over to Nightwing, heedless of the parts on the floor as they scattered under his feet, grabbed his leader's shoulder and spun him around, pushing him against the wall. "She was our friend, man! More than that, she was family! Without her, the Titans probably wouldn't even exist today," he all but shouted in Nightwing's face, "even hardcore criminals - killers! - are better treated than what you put her through! And I doubt what I managed to put together was all of it, either," he growled, Nightwing staying passive under his hand at his tirade.
"You think I wanted to do that to her?" Nightwing whispered, head down. "You think I wouldn't have done better for her if I could have? I'm well aware of what she was to all of us. But you have to face the facts, there was no way a normal cell was going to hold her Cyborg. And what makes you think she wasn't a killer?" he asked, shocking Cyborg to silence - but only for a moment.
"No, a normal cell wouldn't have held her, but you know what Nightwing, we have a magic containment cell right here in the Tower!" Cyborg yelled as he shook Nightwing, letting the feelings that had built up over the last day or so out. "And of course she ain't a killer! Demonic Raven maybe, sure, but she sure as hell didn't seem out of control when we fought her! Besides being pissed at us, of course." Nightwing's own emotions finally got the better of him and he shrugged off Cyborgs hand, confronting his team-mate.
"And who do you think helped make that containment cell!?" he shouted, "Raven, that's who! You don't think she would've found a way out eventually!? I did what I thought I had to at the time, and I knew the rest of you couldn't handle it, so I kept the details to myself!" he finished, panting. He'd also kept what he knew of Raven's misadventure from his team, and the League. No point bringing it up now, assuming he'd believe me after this, he thought to himself bitterly.
Cyborg was quiet for a moment, before he replied. "We could've fixed it, man. Or we could've made something better, more humane, as a group. What do you think this would do to the team now, if they found out? Once they realize they kept her locked up like that for ten years?" he asked softly. "The guilt would all but destroy Star and the Green Bean, you know it would. Hell, it's not sitting well with me."
"And are you going to tell them?" Nightwing asked seriously, still breathing heavily, looking Cyborg in the eyes.
"They have a right to know, but...I can't do that to them," Cyborg admitted, shifting his eyes away. Honestly, he almost wished he'd never found out himself. Sometimes, ignorance was bliss. "But what about Raven? You know she's going to be back, and she's going to be pissed. Think you can keep her quiet about it? It would be better coming from you man, rather than during a fight," he told Nightwing. He could see the conflict on his leaders face - he knew something like this might break the team, or at least hinder them for a while. "And also...If you're willing to go that far with Raven, what about the rest of us?". There was an uncomfortable silence after that last question.
Even before the Raven incident, and especially afterwards, they'd known that Nightwing, or Robin then, had contingencies in place to deal with them if something happened. What if someone turned traitor again, like Terra originally had? Or if someone got control of Cyborg again, like Brother Blood had? Or if someone just decided the other side of the coin suited them more. There were plenty of situations like that where a quick and easy solution could save lives. It was an open secret that even Batman had plans in place for League members - "Who would watch the watchers?". But that didn't help make it sit well with those people.
"Let me ask you something, Cyborg," Nightwing sighed, "if someone got hold of your technology - the tech that saved your life - and turned it into a weapon, what would you do?"
"I'd stop them, of course," he replied, seeing where Nightwing was going with this.
"Of course. You'd do everything you could to make sure your tech didn't hurt anyone. But if you couldn't? If you were the weapon? What if you hadn't broken Brother Blood's control over you, all those years ago?" Nightwing asked rhetorically. "You'd want us to stop you. We all know you couldn't live with yourself if the machines that give you life took someone else's."
"It makes sense logically Nightwing, but..." Cyborg sighed, leaving his sentence unfinished - Nightwing knew what he left unsaid, logic held no sway over emotions. "We all thought you'd put her in a decent place, man. How do you sleep at night?" he finally asked in a whisper. The guilt for being part of it hung heavy on him, he couldn't imagine being the person to give the orders and make the decisions.
"I don't," Nightwing answered quietly, as he turned back around to the door and stepped through it when it opened. Just before it closed, his voice came back to Cyborg. "And what makes you think I don't have something just as drastic set up for myself?".
A/N: Ok, so firstly, that old man Ja'Riha is talking with during the start isn't just a random, some people might recognize him from the show. If not...I'm not saying anything just yet.
I kept going back and adding conversation to Cyborg/Nightwing too, because I couldn't fit it well near the end, so let me if something doesn't really seem to fit well and I'll try and edit it.
Net chapter shouldn't be such a long wait, maybe a couple of days. Bit of Zatanna will show up, as well more Ja'Riha. Now, I shall have a break and play some Diablo 3.