Author's Note: Back after something stupid like 10 years, here is Professional Interest! It's been a ride, but a recent DC kick has reminded me of the Titans and I wanted to write more about them. But I didn't like most of what was here, so I'm rewriting it from about the ground up. You can expect my usual slow update time, but on this go I have a better vision for this story, and I've gotten better at writing (I think) since college. Still going to be a darker Beast Boy, and still very much BB/Rae. As always, your thoughts are appreciated! Enjoy!

"It's all set on my end. I sabotaged the chains and told him when to make a break for it."

"Are we sure this is wise? Have you not considered the additional security with which he must contend, assuming he does make it past the gates?"

"That's a risk we just have to take Star. We're not going to get another opportunity like this; we have to take it."

"And friend Rachel? Will she not be harmed? Should we not tell her?"

"Can't risk it. She may be your best friend Starfire, but she's still an unknown variable. More than that, they want her there. I know the grass stain, he'll be gentle. At least with her."

"Once out of primary containment he should be able to make a break for it. With a little luck none of our contingency plans will be necessary."

"And if we do not have the little luck? I do not understand why we do not free him ourselves. Why we must engage in these plots."

"There's more going on here than just research. We can't spook them. If he gets out now that would be ideal, but if not…"

"If not?"

"Then we're gonna need Rachel's help."

"The subject is just up ahead," mumbled a young man in a rushed, nervous voice, taking quick steps towards the steel security door that filled the corridor ahead. No response. His charge remained silent… completely silent. The hallway was arching and hard, prone to echo even the softest of footfalls as one ventured through its gut, yet the woman behind him still managed to avoid any kind of sound. For a brief moment he entertained the idea that she'd just wandered off, which was not all together an unpleasant thought. Something about this individual unnerved him in a way he couldn't name. Nothing overt, just little things, like the fact that she was completely silent. This was no justification for his concern; rationally he understood that. And yet… the hairs on the back of his neck hadn't relaxed since they'd been introduced. As he paused at the door, fumbling with a security card, he chanced a quick glance. She gazed back at him through rimless glasses with such cold focus he had to look away. Yep, still there.

Only a short while ago this wouldn't have bothered him too much. Peculiar as his charge was, in the context of his previous life she wouldn't have been note worthy. An average looking woman, a little on the sort side with the low center of gravity and muscular build of a professional gymnast, the only thing about her that could possibly have made anyone uncomfortable was her obvious lack of regard for the opinions of others. Her skin was a pale cream that looked like it didn't get much sun and her face was almost childishly round, with a thin, straight nose and a sharp widow's peak. Wide-set eyes as hard and dark as lapis lazuli stared at him, their intensity made all the more tangible by the black, thick lashes that surrounded the orbs. Her coal black hair was just long enough to be feminine, straight and chopped at chin length. Overall, just a person. Or at least, that would've been his assumption before, when life had been ordinary.

Very little about life could be considered "ordinary" anymore, not since the ambiguous men in black had approached him at Cal. Tech. and offered him the internship of a lifetime. Yes, they were literally all in black. One minute he was a grad student, fighting for his doctorate in genetic mutagens, struggling for grant money, and generally questioning his commitment to a better humanity through science; the next he "fit a profile." Choice was the wrong word for what they gave him, but he wasn't going to complain. Out of the confines of real life, he felt a lot like Alice (metaphorically and literally): one of a select group whisked away to this underground lab to help study the most fascinating subject. Who wouldn't jump at the opportunity? What cellular biologist in their right mind would look at these slides and then turn down the project? He'd never seen anything like it before and, the longer he worked, the more doubted he would ever again. Not at the rate their research was going. Thus his charge: this new scientist. And she did not "fit the profile" in any way shape or form.

There was something past intimidating, something almost frightening about her. At the ripe age of 20, Dr. Rachel Roth had, of course, obtained a doctorate, though in what field and from what university was left up for debate. This agency did not accept sub par intellects, so she had to be some king of prodigy to have been brought into the project at all, yet she had published no papers, received no awards, given no presentations, nor conducted any research he could find. To the academic world, and the Internet, she was unknown. No- unknown was too mild of a term. For all intents and purposes, Dr. Roth did not exist. How they found her or why they brought her here was beyond his capacity to understand.

Not that he cared, of course. Questions of that nature were not part of the deal. The agency had hired him for his abilities as a biologist, not for his charm or non-scientific curiosity, and they wanted him to help discover how the subject was physically capable of doing what he did. They had nearly unlimited resources and had set him up for a full career in the niche field of... whatever this was. They had his loyalty. He did his job and was rewarded with knowledge, experience, and more money than he thought possible, as long as he kept in line. That was as much as any student with his amount of debt could ask for.

"You'll need to be careful. The subject is highly unpredictable and can be dangerous," he said as the door slid open, not looking at her as he spoke. He heard a delicate but distinctive snort as they continued on briskly. Finally some noise. He visibly started when she spoke, bumping into the metal rim as he passed over the threshold.

"With respect, I will be the judge of that. This isn't the first time I've worked with "dangerous" animals, nor will it be the last." Her voice was low and gravely, with an undeniable edge of frost. The man stopped at the next metal door and swiped his card again, blushing visibly and dropping his head to his chest. Dr. Roth regarded him with one raised eyebrow, unimpressed by his shame and fluster.

"I'm sorry, Doctor, I did not mean to imply-"

"How much security does one subject need," she asked, cutting him off.

"The subject himself or the secret of its existence? Both are considered… sensitive."

"I see," she said, her tone saturated with sarcasm. She clearly did not see the need for so many doors. The intern chanced another glance at her as the door slid open, still red.

"Forgive me, Dr. Roth, but how much do you know about the subject?"

"How much did you know before they brought you here?"

His color deepened.

"Next to nothing." There was the sound of arms being folded as they walked. "If you don't already know I'm not sure I have the authority to tell you…"

"I'll discover the nature of the subject myself. What I'd like to know is why you need an underground complex with guards, fingerprint and optical scanners, and no less than three solid, key card locked, steel doors to shelter an animal, uncommon as it may be."

The young man paused, licking his lips. "Lets just say… The subject is…Its appearance- well, you'll see for yourself. It's not something anyone wants on the evening news."

He stopped several yards back from one final, vault-like door, pressing one hand to a glowing security pad on the left wall. It flashed blue twice, then went dark. With the other hand he fished something out of his lab coat pocket, handing it to Dr. Roth. Their fingers brushed as she took the flash drive, sending a shiver down his spine. Recoiling back against the wall, he tried to give her an encouraging nod or something to cover up the exchange, silently relieved the transit was over.

"The enclosure is just up ahead. The USB port is hooked up to an encrypted data bank that acts kind of like a lock, so you'll need this to get in."

"You're not coming with," she asked dryly. He shook his head and tried to smile. His neck tensed as she stared at him and he felt his palms begin to sweat. Something about this woman unnerved him. He wanted to be gone. He wanted to get back to the lab, to the cell cultures and microscopes. Back to the science. She held him frozen to the spot for a moment longer, then turned to brush by. As she passed he caught the sent of lavender and mint. Before he could stop himself, a question leapt into his throat. Something he'd been wondering ever since he'd gotten the assignment to take Dr. Roth to the subject.

"If I may," he started quickly, tripping over his words. She paused, almost turning. One eye peered at him from over her shoulder. Permission granted. "Why are you here? I mean- I know and respect your credentials, and of course you would not have come without reason. But, if I may, I noticed you don't have any collection vials or anything to take samples. Why are you… just going to see it? What do you plan to accomplish with it?"

A mirthless smile curved her pale lips as she turned back to face the vault. "As I understand it, your work has been primarily cellular in nature," she started, more a statement than a question. He nodded and, though she couldn't have seen his head jerk, she continued as if she had. "Your superiors think its time we start looking at the organism in a… broader context. I am the only one qualified and the kind of work I plan on doing requires personal contact."

Something about the way she said that worried him. He swallowed. "What kind of work?"

"How much do you know about the nature of the subject?"

"Beyond its genetic abnormalities, next to nothing," the intern admitted with a stiff shrug. Dr. Roth let out a hollow laugh and shot him a final look before continuing down the corridor.

"It may be demonic." The intern felt the blood drain from his face.

"Rachel" passed down the hall, still silent as a specter, but mercifully free of company. She felt Intern Man's eyes on her back for only a moment longer before he turned and retreated to the other side of the door(s). By comparison he sounded like an accident, loud and rushed, his obvious desire to be away almost as potent as hers. A small voice chuckled in her mind, amused by the intern's reflex fear and confusion at her presence. He was either not very deep into the project, or hadn't observed even half of what "they" had told her of this "subject." In his defense, terror was not an uncommon response to the supernatural. Even the recruiters, hardened representatives of those ambiguous people in charge (some unknown "sector of the government"), had been afraid. They'd managed to seek her out, a testament to their resources and dedication in and of itself, claiming to have a creature that was best described as abnormal. It was humanoid in nature, with the capacity to shift rapidly between expressed and unexpressed traits. What had gotten her attention, and no doubt upset the intern, was the possibility of a demonic manifestation. Chances were slim, but anything that gave modern science trouble was worth some investigation. Natural was fine, but the unnatural? That's where things started to get interesting.

Intern Man probably had his own quirky little curiosity. Some minuscule detail of the project that got him so excited he was willing to basically sacrifice his freedom to conduct the research. Mercifully, he just wasn't sharing. And now, he wouldn't be inviting her to any water-cooler gossip or office parties either. Objective one complete. She was here to work. Investigate what she came to investigate, then leave. If this creature truly had demonic connections, then she would take care of it. If not… there was a familiar pang.

Sometimes… frequently, she wondered what it would be like to be like that intern. Just a person, working a job, doing the science, day in and day out. He probably didn't have a contingency plan for if things didn't work out here. For him, there probably was no "not working out." It was a job. Her reality was different. If there was no demon she would leave, and it would be as if she'd never come. She could not allow herself to become attached, not to the people and not to the research. Attachments lead to lingering, lingering lead to settling, and although she couldn't explicitly define the consequences of settling, she knew they were bad. Both for herself and for the world at large. So she would be gone soon, regardless. Still, from time to time, she wondered what it might be like to go to an office party or engage in water-cooler gossip. Rachel often found herself wondering what it was like to just… be.

The final door was quickly upon her and she stopped, giving her head a single jerk to clear it of the fantasy. She was going to need her wits; that much was obvious. While the others had looked characteristically steel, this one had a warm black hue, like it contained carbon or maybe tungsten. There was a low hum as electricity surged around it, a high voltage cage to restrain even the most massive of creatures. The previous doors were designed to keep people out and would give if several tons of muscle were to slam against them a couple times. This door was built to contain. She almost wondered why there wasn't a moat and drawbridge. Maybe some armor-clad knights with javelins? A massive power, still unknown to modernity, lay in wait just behind these walls. With a deep breath, Rachel pulled the cap off the flash drive and inserted it into the one structural weakness in the hall, the tiny USB port by her right hand. After thirty seconds of grinding, clicking, and beeping, the door cracked. A gust of cold air rushed out at her, as though the room on the other side was pressurized, then the door slid slowly open.

Whatever monster she'd expected to see, whatever beast she'd thought entombed here, it was nothing close to the truth. The room was cylindrical and white; no corners to hid in, no abnormalities to stare at, no escape from the sterility of it. Just pure and unadulterated "sample chamber." At its center was a slightly raised platform, sloping up from the ground to avoid any sharp angles, and on that platform was something… human. That wasn't right, though. It was generally human shaped, small, muscular, and entirely green. His flesh (because it was definitely a him) was the shade of green a Caucasian might be if they were green and his messy hair was color of pine needles. Her next thought was "primate," but before she could decide what sort of primate she was dealing with, it changed. And not just "hair falling to one side" or "a new and shocking detail is noticed" kind of change. It wasn't even a subtle as "she thought it was one kind of primate, but from this new angle it looked like another." No, the thing changed its fundamental biological class. What she now saw could not be.

Where a mammal of some sorts had undoubtedly stood when the door had opened, sitting quietly on the raised platform, there was now nothing short of a dinosaur. A massive, carnivorous, crouching allosaurus. Human skin had become scaled, more of an accent to the bulging muscles beneath than a layer of dermal protection. The jaws were massive and lined with sharp, conical teeth, and at the other end a long tail lashed against the walls. Each digit was tipped with claws and, as it turned to face her, she could see its eyes. Nothing but pure sclera, pure whiteness met her gaze, and, as she stared, it released a blood-freezing roar.

The polymer which made up the shackles around its wrists, ankles, and neck had stretched to accommodate the new size of their charge, but the black chains themselves seemed less secure. As Rachel watched, frozen in place, something seemed to go wrong. A single link in each chain had begun to bend with the force of this new monster and, as it strained against them, they started to crack. Muscles bulged, the ripping sound of already strained fabric joined the cacophony, and Rachel heard screaming over the intercom. Instincts clashed within her as self-preservation battled to dominate the demon hunter, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't bring herself to move from the threshold. Her body acted as a door jam, preventing perhaps the most advanced door known to mankind from doing its duty and closing. All she had to do was retreat two steps to safety and let tons of tungsten alloy and electric current crash down between her and the monster, but she didn't. Through the fear and pride, one thought held time in suspension.

It was not possible. It was neither natural nor demonic. It was outside her understanding of reality.

With a final ear-splitting cry the allosaurus snapped the weak links in the chains binding its arms and neck. Its tail thrashed, beating the chains around its feet as it strained to move forward. The weak links cracked, then, in an explosion of dark shrapnel, broke. It was free. Rachel's insides constricted as her breath stalled. Her ribcage was collapsing; her lungs couldn't expand properly. Now, as she was, she didn't stand a chance against the carnivore. But this wasn't the only way she could be. Swallowing hard, she made the decision to defend herself. Her fingers reached towards her neckline, grasping at some talisman beneath the button-up blouse. The beast moved forward with terrifying speed, much faster than she'd anticipated.

A powerful impact knocked her hand away and forced her body downward. She fell, her head cracking on the cold metal floor on impact, causing colored stars to wink around the blurred face of her attacker. Malachite eyes stared at her and hands pinned her to the ground, fingernails that were almost claws digging into her shoulders. She could feel the creature's growl rumble through its entire body, feel its moist breath on her face. For the first time in a long time, Rachel knew fear.

The creature moved its attention from her to the hallway, still snarling. Its face was low, just next to her ear, and she felt the most peculiar sensation in the in the places he was touching her. He had been a dinosaur, but wasn't reptilian. Not anymore. The shoulders she saw hunched over her own, the curving back that arched along her midline, and the legs squatting to either side of her abdomen were human. The skin, however, was not. Not unless there had been some recent disease she didn't know about that made one turn green. And there was enough flesh for Rachel to say with absolute certainty that this human was green. Her eyes darted back to the platform where it had been bound and caught a pile of shredded white cloth. His breath was warm on the side of her face and a high but very male voice whispered something in her ear.

"Thanks."

He pulled back his head and looked at her. It was only the briefest of flashes, more of a repositioning than an attempt to make eye contact, but in that instant Rachel found herself staring. His eyes were unlike anything she'd ever seen, huge, even in this form, and faceted like gems, alive in the sterile light. When she looked at them, past them, it was like looking into childhood. Yet at the same time they were cold and calculating, planning and very intelligent. There was a hardness there she somehow knew was not dictated by nature, but by circumstance. He blinked at her, frowned, then leaned in again, inhaling deeply. Her instincts told her to throw him off, that he'd already learned too much about her, but he didn't give her time to recover from her shock and respond.

The moment passed as quickly as it came and he was gone. Rachel pulled herself into a kneeling position, rubbing the throbbing spot where her head had hit the floor and looking around, she caught a glimpse of the man running down the hall. In a blur of sounds and images it wasn't a man anymore and the green bear launched itself at the door. The impact left a dent and, after a second round, an imperfection in the metal fractured. Claws sank into the defect and tore, leaving a gash in the steel. The creature screamed in triumph, ripping at the tears in the metal, pealing the cracks back to make a hole and puncturing the other side. Droplets of bright red blood smeared around cuts on his inner arms and palms, yet some kind of frenzy had come over the beast and, if it noticed the pain at all, it didn't slow. Soon the hole was large enough to fit something with mass and, shifting once again, a small bird flew through. So small his wings didn't even clip the edges of the hole, even though just moments before he'd been a 600 lbs grizzly.

There was yelling and shouting, then the loud crash of something powerful striking the ground. Rachel, still attempting to reorient herself, reached out to the wall and received a shock from the security door. Yelping, she pulled back, clutching her hand to her chest. An inhuman howl echoed down the hall and she could see flashes of beast and man just past the steel door. With a moan she shifted onto her hands and knees, crawling forward, needing to see what was happening. The crashing and screaming kept getting louder and she thought she could make out words, but wasn't entirely sure. Her hand hurt more than she thought it should have from a simple shock.

"Hold it! Hold it down!"

"I can't! I- ugh."

"The prods! Where the hell are the damn cattle prods!"

"They won't do any good! Not against-Look out!"

"Watch its tail! Watch the tail! Give me that!"

"But Sir!"

"Give me that now!"

A cry of pain. The sound of something heavy moving through the air. An electrical discharge and another scream. Rachel was almost to the hole. She tried to stand up but her legs were locked.

"It's down! The nets! Quick, the nets!"

"It's torn!"

"That's why we have more than one, idiot!"

A human scream. A crash as flesh hit the wall.

"No! Not the live rounds. We're not supposed to kill it, moron!"

"But Jeff!"

"Is either going to be fine or dead. He's still getting paid isn't he? Now get it together or you're- Look out!"

"Don't let it change! Shock it! Shock it!"

More screams. Dr. Roth reached out to the door, to pull herself up, but recoiled at the sight of her own flesh. Her hand was raw, like she'd stuck it into a fire, and burns peppered her palm. What kind of security did these people have? What lengths had they gone- would they go to, to keep their specimen?

Explosions like gunfire, roars of rage and agony. Electrical discharges and bangs.

"That right, you've got it! Now pull it- Pull it down! For the love of- Take it down! Gimme that!"

There was more banging and screaming and then, finally, something heavy hit the floor and men cheered. Rachel bit her lip and willed herself to her feet. She peered through the hole. What could only be described as a Sasquatch lay pinned under about three different nets that were magnetically adhered to both each other and the ground, straining against them. About four men lay either prostrate on the ground or slouched against the wall, ranging from unconscious to seriously damaged. Four more were nursing less serious wounds and standing over the primate, congratulating each other. The subject snapped his jaws, growling and sending at least one hopping away.

"And that, boys," gloated the one who seemed to be in charge, propping the net gun on his shoulder. "Is how the real men do it in Africa."

"What are we going to do with it? Shouldn't we… you know," said another one sheepishly, whipping sweat from his brow and gesturing vaguely to the subject. Another one grabbed what looked like an advanced cattle prod, its end sparking with blue energy.

"You know what the eggheads say, no known anesthetic can take this thing down. I say we just shock it 'till it goes back to that other shape and stops fighting."

"Now now," chided the one in charge, amused. "Lets not damage the prize more than in necessary." Rachel personally did not count the previous beating as "necessary," nor could she currently think of a better way to subdue a shapeshifter against whom all known anesthetics were apparently useless. "The docs say this should do the trick just fine, once he's subdued. They've only made a bit, so we don't get to waste it on games." He pulled out an autoinjector and tapped it lightly.

The primate squirmed angrily, thrashing, white eyes wide. The man squatted next to him, smirking.

"Hey, there's no use arguing, we already won the fight. Good effort though, I think this is the farthest you've gotten. Be a good monster and accept defeat."

The changeling roared and slid back to his human form. For a moment the bonds went slack and he took the opportunity tear his elbow across the other man's jaw. The man stopped smiling and dropped his knee into the changeling's gut, stabbing the autoinjector into his neck. He screamed, writhing in pain for a moment and shot the guard a wrathful look. Then his body began to relax and his eyes glazed over. His breath slowed and, though he tried to shake it off with sharp jerks of his head, the drug quickly won out and he was gone.

The man grinned again, reaching out to pat the shapeshifter lightly on the cheek. "Good boy," he crooned, causing the other men to laugh, albeit a little nervously. "Come on boys! Let's put the animal back in his cage."