DT1: Death and Taxes Chapter 5, a teen titans fanfic

Death and Taxes

by Concolor44

. . .

Author's Note:

Okay, let's be honest now: Raven was seriously badass BEFORE she inherited her ol' man's title.

Now? Pffft. Go ahead. Piss her off. I'll get some popcorn and watch.

. . .

Chapter Five

. . .

The Eighth Circle

The stuff of nightmares stood in orderly rows before Raven's throne. Previously, they might have given her pause, even worried her. One of the hulking brutes in the middle of the pack looked to mass several dozen tons, and had spike-covered stone for skin. He glowered at her in undisguised contempt. All that did now was amuse her as she reclined languidly across her throne.

She gestured at him. "You. What is your name?"

He paused, trying to stare her down. When that only made her grin wider, he boomed. "I am Duke Wrenchgallows. All who know of me fear me … or should."

"Ah-huh. And why might that be?"

He reached over and grabbed one of the supporting columns of fire. Its flame went out. It crumbled to dust in his hand. Turning a triumphant glare on Raven, he growled, "I was your father's most trusted minion. You may be Trigon's heir, but your power is as nothing beside his."

The rest of the demons gibbered in fear and scampered, flew or teleported away from him.

Raven's smile widened. "Z'at so? News to me."

Wrenchgallows turned his head and spat a gobbet of fire to the floor.

One delicate brow raised. "Is that a challenge?"

"Only the strongest rule in Hell!" He used one fist to beat his chest, the resulting reverberating report making the Titans' ears ring. "Yes, I challenge you! Submit or die!"

Regarding him silently for a few breaths, Raven rose from her seat and floated out toward the boastful being. About halfway to him, her soul-self manifested, extending to either side in great, black wings. They beat once, stirring up a gale of dust from the hellstone.

Twice.

Again.

"So," said Raven conversationally, "you believe that since the strongest should rule, and you are obviously the strongest, that just makes me a usurper."

Glitch had taken refuge behind her throne and was making himself as small as possible. He didn't quite suppress a whimper.

"You think I don't deserve my sire's seat. You think I'm weak … even pitiful." Her form as well had been growing as she talked, and as she neared Wrenchgallows, she looked down on him slightly.

The Titans just stood in front of their chairs, slack-jawed.

"You think that because I don't tromp around in monstrous boots all the time the way my father did, that I'm useless. You think a female has no business ruling the Eighth Circle. You think me easy prey." There were perhaps twenty (normal human) paces between them, and she was now half again his height. Black talons an arm-span long sprang from her fingers, subtle fire playing up and down their length. Dark, impenetrable scales covered her towering form. Four redly-glowing eyes stared down at the troublesome demon. "Is that an accurate assessment, or do I exaggerate?"

"You are no Trigon!" His bravado was fracturing. "You never will be!"

"Indeed not." A dense, black mist oozed up from the floor, quickly engulfing the rock-like creature. "My sire was evil for evil's sake. Oh, it's not as if I can really hold that against him. It is, after all, what he was created to be. But Trigon's form of rule was to maximize chaos. Kill randomly, create terror, raze cities … that sort of thing. He got off on it." She reached into the mist and grasped something, pulling it back out. Whatever it was fit comfortably in her closed fist.

Gazing around at the rest of the (suitably cowed) demonic crowd, she continued, "I, however, have a different agenda. I have different likes and dislikes. I disapprove of chaos, under most circumstances. I don't kill randomly." Showing many sharp teeth, she licked her lips with a barbed tongue and added, "I kill when I have reason to. I also understand that there are things worse than total dissolution." She opened her fist and a tiny, limp, gray thing fell to the floor. "For example, being demoted from a Duke of Hell to the status of the weakest nameless imp in the Eighth Circle."

That which had been Wrenchgallows flopped painfully onto its back, panting hard. It was bent and twisted, had only one eye and one arm (and no claws), and seemed completely disoriented.

Raven gestured and one of the nearer demons was popped into being in front of her. She nudged the tiny imp with a foot. "Take this. It's yours now." The demon hurried to comply and zipped back to his spot.

In less than the blink of an eye, Raven had returned to her normal, white-clad form. She spun slowly about in the air, her gaze raking over the assemblage, and gave them a smirk. "Anyone else?"

Dead silence.

"I'd rather thought not." She vanished and reappeared on her throne. It and she then approximately quadrupled in size, and she beckoned her subjects closer. "There, now. Isn't that more … pleasant?" Crossing her legs, she drummed her fingers on the arm of the throne. "I have assumed this size the better that you may hear and see me, rather than for intimidation. I can sense that such intimidation is no longer necessary. Or am I wrong?"

Dead silence.

"Very well, then. Here is how things will be going forward …"

. . .

Triangulum Galaxy, Vlennik's Star IV, in a hidden, undersea research facility

The ancient alchemist blinked all eight of her eyes and stared hard at the being that had materialized in her laboratory. It was … the word was bipedal? An uncommon variation, to be sure. She'd never understand why they didn't just fall over, thinking of the comfort and security of her own dozen limbs.

Raven regarded the spidery thing silently for a moment, then said, "Arrallzharralla."

She twitched. "How do you know me?"

"I've been watching you for a few hours."

"Watching me? How?"

"I have my ways."

"Who are you?"

"No one of consequence." She repressed a giggle at the reference. That was one of her favorite movies. "I have decided to liberate my various liege-beings. You're my first stop."

The convolutions that Arrallzharralla's 'face' went through indicated her version of a frown. "Liberate? I don't understand."

"You have the original manuscript of The Compleat Grimoire of Ancient and Potent Poisons, do you not?"

"Oh … um … yes. I do." Subtly (at least she was trying to be subtle) she moved between Raven and the cabinet containing the book. "It is among my most prized possessions. What is your interest in it?"

"For the book itself, I care nothing. However, there are imprisoned within it two of my subjects. I am here to free them."

This was news to Arrallzharralla. "How can a being be imprisoned in a book?"

"They lost a bet." Raven held out a hand and the weighty tome, wrapped in tendrils of soul-self, came to her.

"My book!" Arrallzharralla instantly found that all twelve of her 'feet' seemed welded to the floor. "My book! No! Don't hurt it! I need it!"

"This, I realize. As I said, I'm not interested in the book, only what it contains." The Grimoire settled to the floor, spine upright, and open to about forty-five degrees. The pages began flipping on their own, stopping near the end. "Ah. There you are." With a blinding flash accompanied by a grating, ripping sound, two wraith-like things were pulled quickly out of its binding. To Arrallzharralla's slack-eyed stare, the smoky beings coalesced into a pair of dark-gray, leathery, winged things with elongated faces and gaping maws filled with dozens of black, needle-pointed fangs. They staggered a bit, holding each other up, then turned to face Raven, staring at her intently. After a moment, they knelt, murmuring in unison, "Dread Lady! Your humble servants."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Listen, I've set up shop in Trigon's place, and I'm collecting the diaspora. Time to report to your stations, as it were."

"Yes, Dread Lady!" They took a few seconds to orient themselves with respect to the plane of the Eighth Circle, then vanished in paired puffs of flame and smoke.

Raven picked up the book, glanced from the cover to the agitated alchemist, and asked, "You don't have an aura of evil about you. In fact, as far as I can tell, you don't even have the capacity for it. Why do you need a compendium of poisons that would make minor demons blanch?"

"I formulate antidotes. I am trying to create the Panacea. Please," she begged, "I truly do need that book!"

"Huh." Raven shrugged. "Whatever. Just sayin', but that might piss off the wrong people, if they find out what you're doing." She replaced it on its shelf and then dropped out of sight through a black portal.

. . .

Much later, in Alternate Universe M417, The Hegemony of Krevensk

For most of the day, Tchi'ahhn had felt that something was off.

Her inner sanctum was shielded against magical scrying. Instruments that would detect every portion of the electromagnetic spectrum monitored the area. She'd even had her demon-slave ward the place so that cross-dimensional intrusion would be nigh-impossible. And yet … she had the feeling of being watched.

Tchi'ahhn had learned some thousands and thousands of cycles ago to pay attention to her gut feelings. The habit had saved her skin several times, so she never ignored such feelings. Ever. Usually, though, she would have some sort of inkling of what to do about it. This time, it was too vague, too scattered, as if the clandestine observation was coming from scores of directions. And it was freaking her out.

She had to do something. This indecision wasn't getting her anywhere. Standing from her throne, she rapped the end of her blackwood staff twice on the floor of ice, the dark green stone in its head giving off a faint crackle. Barely a breath later, a servant, swathed in parka and mukluks, entered and bowed.

"Bring me one of the Skandians. And have someone fire up the larger brazier."

He bobbed his head – silently, given that his tongue had been cut out – and scurried away.

Standing in the empty echoes left behind, Tchi'ahhn settled her mind and prepared herself to enact the spell. The Skandian's death would reinforce the wards tenfold, and …

rattle

She jerked around, bringing her staff up and channeling her immense power into it. If some assassin thought he could sneak up on her, he would discover …

But there was nothing there.

rattle

That one came from off to her left. She spun and fired off a spell, just in case her stalker's invisibility was that good. It blew a decent-sized piece of the wall to dust … and just for an instant she thought she saw something, a hint, an outline, a suggestion of a form.

rattle

They were everywhere! Well, she had an answer for that, too. Holding her staff upright against her chest, she concentrated her life force into a single concept and then spoke a Word of Power. An iridescent dome appeared around her, whirling, growing in intensity for a few seconds before exploding outward, dissolving everything in its way … except that it didn't.

At each of the eight cardinal points of the compass, the field of disintegration encountered something … different … and instead of reducing it to its component atoms, it merely made the object visible.

Tchi'ahhn's jaw dropped.

Pinwheels.

What?

Eight small pinwheels, spinning madly atop narrow rods, surrounded her.

What the actual hell?

It was at that point that the weakness became noticeable. Her hand where she grasped her staff began trembling.

Something was draining her magic. But … but how was that even possible?

She banished the spell … or tried to. It was still swirling around her, a tempest of her power, pulling from her core and feeding steadily into the pinwheels.

Her mind grew thick … slow … heavy …

Random thoughts popped up, shuddered, shredded, vanished.

How many seasons had she held sway in this portion of space-time? How many lifetimes? She'd stopped counting long, long ago. Her magic kept her young, after all. Why keep track?

She tried to concentrate on one of the pinwheels. That's when she noticed that she could see through her hand.

A figure appeared, just beyond the ring of pinwheels: a girl – young, pretty, petite – with hair of dark lavender cascading around her.

Tchi'ahhn dredged up a word. "How?"

The girl smirked. "You'll have to be more specific."

Swallowing hard, Tchi'ahhn tried to grasp at the idea. "How … my wards … how did you … get past …"

"You used the demon's power to place them, then used her directly to reinforce them. That was a mistake."

"I don't … understand …"

"My demon, so my wards. They welcomed me. It was through the wards that I was able to spy on you."

The sorceress's mind was coming apart, thread by thread, no matter how she tried to keep it intact.

"You see," continued Raven calmly, "I'd determined your location quite some time ago. But you've been consolidating your power base for well over a thousand years, and to be blunt, I wasn't entirely sure I could take you in a straight-on fight. Not on your turf. So I had to do some research. I needed an edge."

Tchi'ahhn's breathing was getting labored. Slow. Shallow.

"Now, here's the thing. Most advanced societies have discovered that matter can be converted efficiently into energy, and energy into other forms of energy. Those familiar with magic understand that magical potential can also be turned into energy. That's the basis for a whole genre of spells. A few here and there – yourself included – have discovered ways to convert energy back into matter, at least temporarily. And as you know, such constructs can be unstable."

The sorceress sank to her knees, clutching the staff with what strength she had left.

"Sort of like the body you built for yourself."

Her vision wavered, grew dim, whited out.

"Anyway, since we don't seem to have time for the long version, I'll just say I found a way to convert magical energy directly into stable matter. Because, you know, you might have grown into a threat across the dimensions eventually. And we couldn't have that, now could we?"

Tchi'ahhn tried to speak, tried to pronounce the Word of Unbinding that would have given her a slight chance of escaping … but nothing came out. Her vocal cords were now too intangible to function.

"You probably can't tell, but the pinwheel siphons are attached to rods of an alloy of Polonium, Technetium, and an element only found in this dimension. As your magic is drawn off, those rods are getting thicker.

"You've been a colossal pain in the ass to the rest of this galaxy for way too long. I may have taken on the mantle of a Demon Lord, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten my duties as a hero. You, frankly, need taking out, as they say, for the greater good. You're too dangerous to imprison. You haven't actually been alive in a literal sense for nearly a hundred generations. So you can't be 'killed' in a literal sense, either."

Tchi'ahhn's hearing was almost gone, as was her sense of self.

"But you can be partitioned, and transformed, and scattered … and that is exactly what I'm going to do."

The ghostly image came apart, separating and flowing into the eight pinwheels, and the blackwood staff clattered to the floor. The rods, which had started off as mere wires a few millimeters thick, now had a diameter greater than Raven's thigh. When the last wisps of the former sorceress were safely converted into inert matter, the pinwheels coasted to a stop.

Raven walked over and picked up the staff, concentrated for a second, and squeezed. The gem in its head ruptured, spilling a shapely female demon onto the dark stone. The creature shook its head, looked up at Raven, and smiled. "Dread Lady!"

"Duchess."

"You finally came for me!"

"I've been collecting my subjects for quite a while. You were the last." Nodding at what was left of the staff, she asked, "How'd she get the drop on you?"

Duchess Pugsive stood and brushed off her backside, pulling her tail around to examine it. "She laid a trap. There was a standard summoning to begin with, and I was ready to ensnare her in her own words, but she'd been fashioning that stone for hundreds of years. I couldn't even sense what it was until she touched me with it." Kneeling and crossing her arms in front of her, she intoned, "I am in your debt, Dread Lady. My life for you."

"Well, then, let's get you home." Raven opened a portal to the Outer Rim of the Eighth Circle and waved a hand at it. "I think you can find your way from there."

The demon stepped through and the portal closed.

Then Raven looked at the eight bars of solidified eldritch power. Each, in turn, was cast into a different pocket universe, the key to which was then destroyed. Nodding her head in satisfaction, she dropped into a pool of inky darkness, and was gone.

. . .

Jump City, August 22nd, 3:30pm

Terra glanced up when the doors to the Common Room whished open. Her eyes widened and a broad grin took over her face. "Rae-Rae!" She jumped over the back of the couch and all but tackled the other girl.

"Terra … air."

"Whoops! Sorry! Pulled a Starfire, there." She held Raven at arm's length and gave her the once-over. "Damn, girl! Lookin' fine! Hell agrees with you."

"Oh, I haven't really spent much time in the Eighth Circle. I've been going around and collecting those of my subjects that had been otherwise detained or occupied. It was quite a trip."

"Cool." She cocked her head and gave a tiny frown. "Sooooo … are you, like, back? For good?"

"Yes." Raven's accompanying nod and smile were as genuine as it gets. "I've really missed you guys."

"Yeah, we've missed havin' you around, too!" She bounced up and down a little. "So do you …" One hand fingered Raven's white cape. "That is, are you still all together? Emotions all clicking and stuff?"

"We're right as rain." She leaned over and gave Terra a quick peck on the lips, surprising her. Then she pointed at the kitchen. "See? The microwave is still intact!"

Terra touched the spot with two fingertips, staring at Raven in shock.

The half-demon laughed and gave Terra's arm a light shake. "Not to worry. Yeah, you're cute and all, but you've got BB and you two are happy. Besides," and she gave Terra a conspiratorial wink, "I've got other fish to fry, you might say."

A slow grin once more got comfortable on the geomancer's face. "Got someone in mind, huh? Can I have a guess?"

"You can have as many as you like, but I think you probably only need one."

"EEEEEEEE! Do you know where she is? Have you talked to her? What's she up to? I haven't heard a peep out of her in months. Wait, of course you know where she is, you've got all that Queen-O-Hell power and junk." She rocked back and forth on her heels. "You gonna go see her tonight? She know you're comin'?"

Starfire and Changeling had come in during that spiel, recognized Raven, and glommed her. "Dearest Raven!" "Rae! You're back!"

A full, broad laugh bubbled up out of the purple-eyed girl. "Lords and Angels, but I've missed you guys!"

"This," announced the green teen, "calls for a celebration."

"Already taken care of."

"… Huh?"

Raven chuckled again. "I've already reserved us a room at Dominico's Roof."

"Ooooooo!" Garfield adopted a look of reverence. "Dominico's! How'd you swing that? I thought reservations were booked for months out! That's one of the swankiest joints in Jump! Best Italian food on the west coast, so I hear."

"You know how they say 'Money talks'?"

He nodded.

She reached into a pocket and pulled out a handful of bright coins. "Well, gold screams. It didn't take nearly this much to get them to juggle their calendar."

They all stared at her loot. "Raven …" began Garfield.

"It's legit. I've been doing a lot of dimension-hopping. Turns out gold – and a lot of other rare elements – are a lot more common in other places than they are here." She jingled the coins. "This is about, oh, 350 grams of gold. Current market prices would peg this somewhere between sixteen and eighteen thousand dollars, local money." She picked out one coin. "The dimension this came from? This would barely be a day's minimum wage."

Terra gulped. "Holy shit, Rae!"

"Yeah, but you would not believe what they'll pay for a gram of silicon."

"Silicon?" Queried Starfire. "Is that not what sand is composed of?"

"To a large extent, yeah." She dropped the coins back into a pocket. "Thing is, though, you can only do that sort of thing on the sly, and only rarely. If we swapped a thousand tons of sand for a thousand tons of gold, what would happen to the world's economy?"

The other three saw her point. "Chaos," answered Terra.

"Exactly. But let's shelve that for later. Where are Cy and Nightwing?"

"They are doing the patrolling." Starfire pulled out her T-com. "I think that they will be willing to suspend the patrol for doing the greeting of you."

"Well, our reservations aren't until six-thirty. They've got plenty of time." She slung an arm around the other two girls' shoulders. "And I've got some tales to tell you, believe it!"

. . .

Author's Note: Thus ends the initial segment of this development in the lives of the Titans. Please also take note that this story has sequels! They are, in order:

"Custard"
"Regrets"
"Revisions"

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