Poison in the Soul

Bart had thought he had known pain before. Then his would-be murderer blew apart his knee and then he thought that he knew what true pain was. The agony he had felt, helpless and unable to do much of anything until Raven took him away.

But he had been wrong. There was an even worse pain than having your kneecap blown to hell. Oh, it was so much worse—ow, ow, can't do that with the leg just yet—okay, not that much worse, but still pretty bad.

He was sooooo bored!

You know what he did when he was bored? Well, pretty much everyone could tell you that at this point. But in case it wasn't clear, he moved. He did stuff.

He ran.

You know what he couldn't do right now? That's right, run. He couldn't run anymore. His leg was in this torture device called a brace that was holding it straight and still and he couldn't move it! Not without sending—oh, oh, oh!—shooting stabs of pain up and down it. It didn't take much, just trying to find a more comfortable position could cause it. He had to keep the leg still.

And do you know how crazy that was? Do you even know how often you move your leg around without thinking about it? He was already into the five hundreds in the span of an hour—but that could be just him—and it was just so uncomfortable. But when he was able to relax even a second, he got bored. And when he got bored—ow—see what he means?

It was all upper body stuff now. He had taken to tapping on the railing on either side of his bed here, and if you were to look at the right railing, you'd find four evenly spaced dents there. They hadn't been there before, but he had been tapping for a while, and using a little speed because he needed to use a little, okay? So there were dents now. Don't blame him, he was bored!

Oh, and it got worse. He couldn't leave the med bay. Cassie does and no one says anything. Raven did and who knows where she went. He can't even stand up. It was so unfair!

And what was up with all these non-speedsters hitting him? They didn't have the speed which would explain why he would even be hit in the first place. This wasn't Thawne, or Thad, or Grodd! What, didn't know about Grodd? Weird name, sure, but that had been an incredible—ow, ow, and he did he mention ow? Ow—where was he again? Right. There was this asshole and hadn't there been another? Oh yeah, Ravager. Lucky hit. At least he had been quick to recover that time.

Why hadn't he recovered quick this time? Why hadn't he been moving to avoid that shotgun? Why had he laid there until it was too late?

…what would he do now? He couldn't run anymore, and that was his thing. He was a speedster. Running was his life. All…carry the—no, no, take off a one, and…well, his body looked sixteen years old but he was closer to like…five. Five years that he could remember, going on six, whatever that meant.

He couldn't run. How could he be one of those retro superheroes now? How could he even be a Flash, a Kid Flash even, if he couldn't use his legs to run anymore? How could he be a Teen Titan anymore? He couldn't bring anything else to the team other than his speed. What was he going to do? What could he do? A boy from the twenty-fifth century stuck in the twenty-first with nothing going for him because everything that had been going for him was gone now.

Was he useless now? Probably, because his winsome personality had made so many friends, hadn't it? Aw man, what was he going to do now? If only he could get—ow—out—ow—of—Ow—this—OW—bed!

What was that ringing sound? Oh, he had been hitting the side of a fist into the bedside railing. This was looking more and more like a prison. You might as well call it one!

How was he going to get out of this one?

Could he get out of this one?

…Wally had shown up earlier. He had tried to hide the look on his face, one that a mask couldn't hide, but Bart had caught it. Oh, Wally did everything to avoid talking about the leg and the knee, tried to be all nice. "We're gonna figure this out." Yeah, figure what out? Still, the fastest man alive had stayed a while, tried to his spirits, then left with a promise.

A promise that this whole thing would soon be over. Which thing? The guy who destroyed his leg? Stop him from killing more Titans? Fix his leg? One of those two made more sense. You know, now that he was thinking about it, the twenty-fifth century could do a whole lot more with this kind of injury. Well, at least he thought that was the case. Had never really looked into knees, you know? Never thought he was going to lose one of his. Obvious oversight, right?

But Wally had raced off, and Bart knew his speed. Wally left faster than he normally did. Bet he couldn't wait to get out of here. Couldn't blame him, no one wanted to be around a speedster that couldn't run anymore.

Would never run anymore.

There were advantages to being a half-demon. If you knew what you were doing, healing was sped up which meant less need for bedrest. Raven's ribs didn't ache as much as they had before but she still had a stiffness to them.

It had been more important to flee the med bay. The emotions radiating from Bart were stifling and physical distance was needed if only to give herself the illusion that she was making it better. From a room full of medical equipment, she entered a Tower welling with all sorts of distraught, stress, guilt, shame, and anxiety. Was she jumping out of the pan and into the fire, or jumping out of the fire and into the pan?

Neither option was wanted. Unfortunately, the one outcome she did want was unavailable.

It was moments like these where she resented her empathic abilities. Trying to retain a state of calm in this morass was a feat in and of itself. Teenagers always struggled with their emotions even in the best of times. These weren't the best of times.

Out of everything she sensed, there were three sources of calm in the Tower, and each one belonged to the three Leaguers sent to keep an eye on them. She had had very little interaction with Black Lighting, Vixen, and Steel; that last time had been on a beach with a front row seat to the end of the world. Nothing since.

Their calm was most welcomed, though.

Raven had anticipated that today would have been a tough one. It wasn't often she was around so many people like that with all of the conflicting emotions the roiled around. It didn't matter whether these emotions were positive or negative, she would sense them all and some would inevitably begin influencing her. The strain of this was predicted and she had accounted for it.

The death of a fellow Teen Titan, that had been unexpected. The emotional shockwaves continued to ripple and she would of course be susceptible to them. The calm from the members of the Justice League was very much welcomed as a result.

It centered her enough that she could endure. It also allowed her to detect sharp spikes of anger which gave her pause. Her escape from the med bay was now redirected as she began to investigate the source of this anger. It shouldn't be too surprising that her wanderings brought her to a door, specifically the one that sealed off Beast Boy's room.

Logically, this was to be expected. Beast Boy and Terra had a close bond, one born from suffering under the will of a deranged cult, further twisted by a megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur, and for the only memories they had of their "early" life, they only had each other. Shared experiences could act like glue in that regard.

Even after H.I.V.E. was dismantled, these two were close though they were finally beginning to spread their wings. Safety tended to have that kind of effect. They would develop new interests, evolve, but always would they come back to one another. Not anymore and backlash could only be the result now.

The empath would admit that Beast Boy had every right to be angry, but anger was not what they needed now. They needed to remain calm and clearheaded. After the immediate threat was dealt with, then mourning and grief could be allowed. They were still in danger and would continue to be.

A second's hesitation kept her from entering. Consideration had her knocking. No response was given, and the anger within was still hot. A second knock out of courtesy was done, and again she was ignored. Very well then.

Under normal circumstances, she would have left and respected the privacy a closed door implied. These weren't normal circumstances and so she engulfed the door with her power and forced it open against the mechanisms keeping it closed.

Raven found herself brought up short, her eyes widening. The shapeshifter wasn't the tidiest of individuals. He exhibited the messy qualities of a typical adolescent and had taken to dropping articles of clothes and other items on the floor and leaving them there. Periodically there would have be some labor-induced cleaning and many, many complaints from it.

This was not a mess. This was destruction that she saw. The bed and mattress were ruined and torn. Shelves were askew or knocked down. Various knickknacks were scattered about, many of them broken. Claw marks decorated the walls along with some small depressions with spider-web patterned cracks cratering them. A single light flickered from the ceiling, indicating that somehow the damage to the room was affecting the electrical wiring.

In the middle of it all, resting on his knees while arms hung limply from heaving shoulders and a head bent down was the perpetrator. Even from where she stood, she could hear the heavy breathing, all of it indicative of exertion. He didn't look at her, even though she knew that his hearing was perhaps the best of anyone in the Tower. Either he was ignoring her or was so deep in his rage that he was no longer aware of his surroundings.

Most people would either demand to know what had happened in here or they would have retreated. Raven had more options than that, and a moment's more of her considering this had her electing to act. Her eyes closed, she took in a deep, calming breath, and when she opened them, her eyes were now alit in darkness.

Her vision of the world adjusted and she was now aware of the aura that seemed to engulf the shapeshifter. Like fire, it burned about his body, the embodiment of rage and fury. Taking another breath, she began to draw that anger away from its source and from there…

…she began to eat it.

Her time with the Teen Titans must be leading her to insanity. Once upon a time, much like with using her soulself, she would have been reluctant to do this. This method of calming someone possessed by strong emotions meant that she drew those very feelings out of them and absorbed them into her being. Perhaps a benefit of her demonic heritage was that her constitution could handle the negative affect and break it down much like how the physical body broke down food for nourishment.

Naturally, doing so would also influence her emotional state, but unlike Beast Boy, she had a better handle on her emotions.

The aura of outrage diminished, and outwardly the shapeshifter's body relaxed. Tensed muscles lost some of the definition to them, breathing slowed down, and aggressive posture slumped.

When she had finished, Raven finally took a step into the devastation. She had tried to be quiet about it, avoiding any of the damages, but her first step caused a crunch. Eyes flickered downward to judge whether she needed to be worried. She couldn't tell if it was glass or not. She felt no pain, so she steeled her nerves and took the next step.

By the third, a dull voice stopped her in her tracks. "What did you do?"

There was usually a lightness to Beast Boy's voice; it gave the impression of someone lighthearted and full of life. The dullness had deepened the adolescent voice, and there was a raspiness as if there had been excessive yelling and screaming. Vocal cords were stressed and overexerted.

Glancing around the room once more, Raven answered, "Making sure you didn't hurt yourself more than you already have."

A hoarse hack that mimicked a laugh disturbed the empath. "It's a bit late for that," Beast Boy rasped. Hands that had gone slack were now tightening into fists once more.

Already, the coals that kept this conflagration of anger were heating again. "I don't know if anything I can say will make anything better, but…I may not know the pain you are feeling or understand it fully, I still do not enjoy you experiencing it either."

Broadening shoulders shook. "You're slipping. That's a big fat lie."

Raven's brow furrowed. How the hell did he come to that conclusion?

Green eyes pinned her where she stood. The brokenness in them was deep, deeper than she had anticipated. "You feel everyone's feelings, right? So you can feel the pain. You know how much I'm in. Don't lie and say that you don't."

For a moment, the hood and cloak-wearing girl found herself back in time. Instead of a destroyed bedroom, it was a damaged garage. Instead of a man in a mask, it was nightmarish creatures born of her out of control powers. Terra had been taken by both threats. Both then and now, Beast Boy's very personality seemed to shift.

The same coldness, the quiet fury that you would not expect from such a happy-go-lucky person simmered the same then as it did now. Back there, there were plenty of monsters for him to express his wrath. Now? Who knew where Terra's murderer was.

This was a Beast Boy that she had no idea of how to interact with.

It was one she was going to have to figure out how to if only to keep him from getting himself hurt.

"Just because I can sense the pain does not mean I grasp every iota of it," she said quietly. Making the effort, she locked her dark blue eyes with his broken green ones. "So explain to me. Teach me. Teach me until I grasp every bit. I will listen. I will listen to it all. I will offer no judgment. No insults. So unburden yourself. I don't know if I can shoulder it with you, but I can try."

Facial muscles were slackening and Beast Boy stared at her as if he could not understand just what he had been told. Maybe she had surprised him; the history of their interactions weren't always the best. They tended to butt heads more than they got along. The best that there had ever been was that one show with all the random death but that final season had been a mockery of all it stood for.

But she was here right now, willing to hear him and let him speak. Another time, she would describe listening to Beast Boy as a low form of torture. It was a testament to the severity of their circumstances that she was willing to offer her counsel to one of the individuals that she had a low tolerance for.

No. No. Thoughts like that had a way of poisoning interactions. He may be Beast Boy, but he was also hurting in a way that he never had before. As promised, she would forsake judgment and allow him this chance to pour out that insidious rage welling within him.

Call it a hunch, but she felt that cooler heads would be more valuable should this situation get any worse.

"All major entrances have been locked down. Sensors on the first floor have been enhanced both with infrared and ultraviolet detection in case invisibility is being used. Motion sensors have been updated so if someone is taking a stroll down there, they won't go undetected. Elevators have shut down for the time being, but if someone does get into one, they'll have to blow up the whole box if they want to get out of it so no using the emergency hatch on top to get access to the shaft. All stairwell doors are locked and bolted and you will need your IDs to open them."

Cyborg was nodding his head as he listened to each and every description that the man known as Steel was rattling off. The metal suit that allowed enough flexibility so that all movement was not slowed was impressive to his robotic eye. If Steel had been the one to build that suit, then he was a very smart guy who knew what he was doing.

"I've welded the rooftop access shut for the time being. You'd need some explosives that pack a strong punch to get through it, and it was already reinforced. I think a few more patches and I can get each floor to be individually and separately secured. Double checked the lockdown measures to make sure they are still functional."

Doing a double check was not a bad idea. Showing some tact and not bringing up how it had been activated nearly a year ago was nice gesture as well.

"Did you do anything about the turrets on the first floor?" Cyborg asked. Of all the Titans, he was the one most familiar with their security measures. He was usually the one arming the Tower late at night. Sure, they may have a building full of teenagers and young adults, but with the kind of life they lived, it was rare for anyone to stay up past midnight. Things had to be planned in advance, like a movie night, to delay that arming sequence.

"Still nonlethal, but I suppose you can say I put them all on hair trigger mode," Steel answered. "Based on the description you gave about the man after you, I assume the gear he wears is insulated. For future reference, I upped the voltage enough, but it's tricky getting it in that one sweet spot where it can overcome the insulation and not kill or seriously maim a person for life. We can control the voltage from up here if it needs to be increased in case I underestimate the insulation."

"No changes to the blast doors?"

"What would be the point?"

Blast doors were heavy duty security, designed to take any and all damage thrown at them. Most explosives would only singe them. C4 was like a tickle. Shockwaves were absorbed. A push of a button was all that was needed.

"Cybersecurity?"

Never underestimate a hacker. Sure, the Tower already had some impressive software and programing, the firewalls on par with those used on the Watchtower. Or…had they put another one back up there? He knew about how it was plunged into the atmosphere when they had that clusterfuck of three different alien races trying to destroy the planet or at the very least wipe humanity out of existence.

Things had been hectic with the T.I.T.A.N. Initiative expansion. Making sure all the kids rescued from H.I.V.E. had been a higher priority for him.

"Everything's updated. Biometric scans are state-of-the-art, meaning they're all my design and you can't find it anywhere else on the planet. Everyone needs to have their IDs on them at all times. Just walking into the hallway over there without it will trigger available security measures."

Cyborg gave a whistle. "So you can't just stand next to someone responsible enough to have theirs on them?"

Wonder Girl was giving him a look. While it may not seem like it, their warrior princess over there had a habit of "forgetting" hers and bumming off Red. They had had talks. Never went anywhere. Not that she was the only offender. Bart was scatterbrained a lot but relied on his superspeed to get through all security. BB was another culprit, but he had argued using any animal forms meant he had trouble carrying it around. Terra…Terra had been helping him with that.

"Right. Taking no chances," Steel confirmed.

The cybernetic young man wanted to give an impressed whistle. So far, Steel was really coming through here.

"Sticking together, no one going on their own, will give you more protection than many of these systems," Vixen spoke up from where she leaned against a wall, arms crossed. "I've found an extra pair of eyes fills in the gaps. There's a shapeshifter among you lot, right? Turns into all kinds of animals? Don't underestimate hearing and smell. Those are things no intruder can cover up entirely."

But was the Grass Stain in the right frame of mind? He was taking Terra's death pretty hard. And damn it, he was alone too. They were going to have to fix that quickly.

"Thank you for all your help," Red Robin said diplomatically.

"We're here until this is all over. We're not out of your hair just yet," Vixen replied. Then a small smile formed on her lips. "For what it's worth, you have a very good place here. I don't think Steel had to do any major overhauls."

"We'll check in with the rest of the League in a bit, get an update," Steel added. "For now, I pity anyone who tries to break in here."

That T-shaped tower was big. They didn't half ass it. Ridiculous in appearance, but not in its own security. Deathstroke eyed it, knowing that in the heart of that building were his targets. There was no other place for them to retreat to, not with some of the injuries he had given them.

It would be there that they would feel safest. They would find out otherwise.

From his vantage, the Tower was almost monolithic. From its windows, you could make out the lights within. Somebody was home. Without looking down to Wintergreen in the boat below, the assassin detached the hang glider he was using and began his approach.

Most of the sensors were monitoring either the small island that Tower was built on or they were monitoring the airspace. There was the blind spot, close to the water but not quite, high enough that a fall would hurt. Deathstroke maneuvered the glider with expert ease, silently crossing the bay while Wintergreen below veered the boat away.

Air buffeted him, but he didn't feel the resistance unless it was with the glider. As the Tower loomed over him, he began angling for the ground below as soon as water no longer passed by. His speed was such that he tilted steeply, circling the T-shaped building at least twice before firing a grapple.

As soon as the line grew taut, he released his grip on the glider's handle and allowed himself to swing. Booted feet landed against a vertical surface, and then he lowered himself until he was right in front of the main entrance. Detaching the line, Deathstroke made his way to the sealed doors, stopping in front of a panel.

From his belt, he slipped a disk-shaped object, one that was pale yellow with a T on its face. Opening it up, he held it to the panel and used the communication device to input an access code into the panel. A flash of red alerted him that the code was declined, but he wasn't deterred. If anything, he had been expecting that.

He had a way around it.

Part of the reason he had ambushed those Titans in Steel City was so he could get as much intel on each of these towers as he could. Schematics, security features, blueprints, everything. Learning where everything was located was paramount. This also included emergency access.

With the communicator, the assassin brought up one such emergency access code. From what he had learned about the system, access would be short, five seconds to open and close a door if it was truly an emergency. You didn't want what was out there having a chance to get in, so such a procedure had to be short in length.

He doubted that anyone would think to update or change the protocol. When the door gave a dull clack, Deathstroke immediately entered, needing far less than the five seconds to get in. The rest of the security features would be suspended for a time, believing he was friend rather than foe. Once these Titans figured out the ruse, those features would be reactivated.

Best to get as far as he could before that happened.