Out of the Ashes
Calm. She felt calm. Even as air buffeted around her, her arms holding the red and yellow human, she felt calm.
The complex fell away, shrinking beneath the Tamaranean as she carried the radioactive threat away, rising higher and higher as fast as she could. The exertion had the peculiar effect of her hair igniting, leaving a streak of energy to fall behind in their wake.
Starfire did not intend to die, not here, but it was difficult to know how she would be able to achieve that. There was no telling how powerful this man's detonation would be; the only certainty was that it was powerful enough to kill her friends if he had remained there.
Much had she learned on this planet. So many lessons, each teacher a friend and sometimes a foe. There was homesickness, heartbreak, and alienation, and those were countered with belongingness, joy, and satisfaction. One constant was how cold this planet was, and it would always remain cold in comparison to the lost Tamaran.
That chill affected the air, but she understood that such chill was normal at this altitude. It would get colder the further into the atmosphere they flew through. If she could fly high enough, then her friends would be safe and live another day.
Through all of her training, speed had not been a focus on any of it, and that was now a regret. Agility and maneuverability had been greater priorities and she had focused her efforts on those skills. With more speed, Starfire felt she would be more confident in the distance achieved.
Her arms held tightly to the human who in turn placed his hands over the wound to his torso. A light glowed from that area and with each second it became brighter and brighter. Judging by the increasing intensity, then there were only seconds until the promised detonation. It was difficult judging how much she had until it became absolute that she try to flee and save herself. Each second, that small increment of time as measured by humans, with which she continued to fly meant that much more distance from her friends.
Death felt so close though she did not yet possess the level of injury needed to experience it. There was a time she knew this feeling, but unlike the previous occasion, it was not despair that tainted it. Somehow, somehow she would survive, of this she was sure.
There was too much left not completed. The continuing education with her friends, the growing relationship with Nightwing, and the final determination of Komand'r's rule over what remained of their people. There was so much that needed conclusion and none of it would find that outcome if she died here.
So she would not die.
The light was becoming brighter, and she could feel the distress from the red and yellow human. Maybe her feeling was not as powerful as Raven's but she could read the body language all the same. The human was losing control and quickly.
"Please try to contain your energies a moment longer," Starfire requested.
"What are you talking about?" the human grunted.
"An idea to grant us further distance from the people below us," the Tamaranean answered in truth.
The human said nothing. Awaiting his agreement or refusal did not possess enough time for her to receive it. She…accepted the silence as the answer.
Continuing to fly higher and higher, Starfire began to turn then spin, adding centrifugal motion to the ascent. Faster and faster did she spin, the human almost perpendicular with herself. As the light became ever more intense, the Tamaranean added her strength into the next maneuver, a throw in which she gave her all, adding this force to their rising momentum.
The human continued the flight ascending, and Starfire redirected herself as fast as she was able to begin a downward acceleration. Hopefully she had flown far away enough that her friends would live. Now to attend to her own welfare.
In her hands, she summoned her life energy, its blazing green so comforting. Bringing her hands together, she concentrated the energy as much as she could and aimed in the direction that the red and yellow human was currently located. The light he emitted was brighter, almost too bright, but the light of her own life energy helped to shield her vision.
Every second mattered; she needed fire at the best time. Too early and she may cause a premature detonation. Too late and she may be killed. White light continued to brighten, and it was becoming harder and harder to judge if this was it, the very instance before detonation. She flew backwards as fast as she could, feeling every single second pass.
Starfire detected the sudden surge and only then did she fire perhaps the strongest blast of her life energy that she had ever emitted. This blast collided against a wall of energy and was immediately pushed back. The collision of these two energies had a peculiar effect, force backfiring in the Tamaranean's direction.
She could feel that backfiring force pushing, keeping her just ahead of certain death. Death it was, and quickly it approached. The length of her beam of life energy shrank and did so at a very concerning rate. Too quickly, the length of that beam was with a small increment of distance measurement. That length, it was difficult to identify, but was it a foot or a feet? Why the name of a human body part was involved continued to elude her.
It was a question to be answered should she survive. The pushback kept her just ahead, and she could feel the radiation from the explosion. She had had her own experience with radiation; the Psions who had once experimented on her had been curious about how much radiation a Tamaranean could handle. The result of that experience was the reason she could summon her life energy.
Was it…odd that her body was absorbing some of the radiation from this explosion and in turn using it to power her beam? It helped to prevent exhaustion, but for how much longer could she do this?
Without warning she began to pull away, the explosion finally reaching its apex. Could it be? Had she done it? Had she achieved this goal and escaped death's call? It…It might—
The shockwave slammed into her. This force was just as merciless as the detonation, but instead of attempting to vaporize her, what felt like blunt physical trauma overwhelmed both her senses and consciousness.
For brief instances, consciousness would return, but she would see a chaotically spinning world. It was difficult to identify which was sky and which was ground. Air ripped about her harshly, her body limp from both the trauma and the exhaustion. Her dazed mind could not regain enough control to exert it through her body.
No vision, dark and muted colors, the brightness of the human's detonation, more muted colors, darkness once more, and muted colors again. In and out of consciousness was her mind, the only sound was her heartbeat, calm and steady. Where were her arms? Her legs?
Was it not cruel irony that by avoiding one death, she had only found another path that brought her to the same destination?
Yet, she continued to feel calm. No more thoughts. No more…regrets.
As consciousness began to slip away one last time, as serenity settled with her, only soft purple marred her vision, seemingly growing until all was replaced with solid black.
Being an empath meant that Raven was more aware of developments than the others. She could sense what was occurring between Wonder Girl and Red Robin, and it was not her place to say anything about it.
When Wonder Girl returned alone and she sensed Red Robin putting distance between himself and the rest of them, she knew what was happening. She didn't speak of it or confirm anything to the rest. Her energies, or what remained of them, needed to be used elsewhere.
Without proper medical facilities, she would need to keep a close eye on that head wound Beast Boy sustained. It took effort to not use the word needlessly; the presence of the wound was punishment enough. Making sure that the skin healed, that infection did not set in, and…there was nothing she could do about the eye.
Do not misunderstand, this was not healing in the traditional or classic interpretation. She did not heal as in reversing an injury. It was more like…eating the injury away. Her demonic nature did not "understand" the concept of healing; it could only take away, destroy, or manipulate.
It meant manipulating the normal human response to wounds, convincing it there was no wound there so restore homeostasis. That which could not be manipulated was devoured—metaphorically—and with the absence of injury, there was no excuse to remain so. To create, though, that was not how her powers operated.
Beast Boy was still sullen. Quiet seemed a terrible fit, but the shapeshifter was abusing it for his first try. Brooding was not a good look; leave that to Red Robin. The Gotham native had a better mentor in such respects. He should be grateful that he still lived. What he had tried to do was the very thing she had been worried he would do.
And what had he accomplished? Nearly getting a head wound that would have killed him. Had that bullet entered that pea-sized brain, they would have another name to mourn. This was why she had put him to sleep back in the Tower and she should have done so in that underground prison.
Raven did not blame him for Starfire. She understood the train of events that had led to that. As much as she would like to, logic—or perhaps Wisdom—made sure irrationality didn't take hold.
She began to open her mouth to speak when she realized what she was doing and quickly snapped her jaw shut. She was not a talkative sort, and this should be no different. When she did speak, it was important and never inane. Contrast with the green-skinned shapeshifter, and could you really tell when it was important?
Well…there were times. Every once in a while, you could have a conversation even if there was some hostility. And there was one time when something profound came out of inanity. So maybe there was something to come from any jumble of words he spoke.
Pausing, Raven reflected and held in a wince. This was not a time to judge, was it? She could disapprove of his recent actions, but she needed to respect the grief Beast Boy was experiencing. Two close friends, one who she suspected meant a lot more, were gone. All within a day, and if matters continued as they were, then she feared that Red Robin's name would be next.
There was a difference between the team leader and the team shapeshifter. Raven had come to learn and respect the growth that Red Robin was experiencing. He wasn't the same person who had passively led the team, bungling such an important role. He had evolved and it was admirable. Was it stupid to go alone? Absolutely. The resolve she sensed? Attempting to challenge it would prove foolhardy.
Beast Boy, on the other hand…well, she couldn't quite say he was shallow as a wading pool. There was depth to him, and it took its sweet time letting itself be known. For every time there was a chance to glimpse the kind of person the shapeshifter would become, that glimmer of potential buried deep within, there were five other instances of frustration and disappointment that countered.
Sometimes she didn't know what to think of him. Acting a fool one minute, then surprising her the next.
"Why don't you just say it already?"
Her thoughts interrupted, Raven blinked as she processed what she had just heard. Then she made the connection that Beast Boy had just spoken to her. From where she sat currently, she only had a profile of the shapeshifter and it was the right side. Much of that side was covered with torn strips of cloth, and that primarily came from her ripping pieces of her cape. Around the forehead, blanketing the right eye socket, and dark with soaked blood, this makeshift bandage masked any facial expressions Beast Boy might be having.
When she didn't respond, the green Titan who sat on the floor, posture hunched with shoulders slumped and legs sprawled outwards, continued, "You like to put me down a lot. Just get it over with." A voice that was deep with exhaustion spoke and it hardly resembled the brighter tones she was used to.
The empath eyed her charge, not speaking immediately. When she did, "You're doing a better job than I ever could."
A snort. "What? No 'I told you so?'"
"What would be the point," she dismissed. "You took a gamble. It didn't work out. At the very least, you still have your life."
Beast Boy shook his lowered head. "So what? It's not much of a consolation prize."
She resisted sighing. "You still live. You'll have another chance to try your luck and maybe that time you'll pull it off. Or Deathstroke will be better prepared. The self-deprecation is not a good look for you."
Bare arms remained limp. "You're the expert on that, aren't you?"
This time, Raven did sigh. "I am not going to be your emotional punching bag today, Beast Boy. Maybe Cyborg, Kid Flash, or Wonder Girl might be willing to take that. Of maybe they won't give you the time of day."
"Like you are giving me the time of day?" A challenge, but nothing more.
"Attending to injuries you didn't need? That does take up much of my time these days," Raven retorted. "There are a million different things I would rather do. I'm not doing any of those right now. I'm making sure that your head doesn't malform from the bone you just lost."
There was a question of how permanent this injury could be. What would happen if Beast Boy simply shifted into another animal form? Would the injury be healed? Would it carry over into the animal form? Was it reversible or permanent? So far, the shapeshifter had yet to shift, and so the question remained unanswered.
Judging by his current behavior and mood, they would not be learning that answer anytime soon.
"I feel your hurt," Raven ventured. "I know you still grieve. It does not give you the right to lash out at me. I would ask, instead, that you process it. Such darkness will not help you beat Deathstroke, if there even is a way to do so. I'll admit, you got close. Close isn't enough. Running for the rest of our lives isn't either. I understand your skepticism when I say this, but we need to remain together."
That was rich. She already knew that Red Robin had slunk off, and yet she was being hypocritical to Beast Boy. A number of arguments could be made, but none felt as if they were needed to be heard by the injured Titan. So she said and mentioned nothing about it.
Beast Boy did not reply, his lax posture giving nothing away. It wasn't hard to feel out the turmoil within him, but grasping which emotions were dominant was tricky. There were too many, as if the shapeshifter didn't know how or what to feel. The only commonality was that all were negative.
Underlying it all was the grief. That was consistent and it had been the green Titan's motivation for some time now. If they were still alive when this ended, then that grief would have to be addressed. Mental health counseling, perhaps, no, definitely. She wasn't a counselor, didn't know what she was doing, and what she did was just to get through the next five minutes.
"What's the point?" Beast Boy uttered.
Resignation was dominant now, but other myriad negative emotions were feeding it. Raven recalled a time when she herself was at her lowest and who was it that spoke to her, trying to lift flagging spirits? It would reflect badly on her if she did not reciprocate.
"To give Deathstroke a 'fuck you, I'm still alive?'" she remarked. "To deny giving him what he wants? To give Terra and Starfire's deaths the dignity and respect they deserve? To be what it means to be a Teen Titan. I can think of others, but I know that this, this is your life and it's important to you. If you won't fight for it, then I will, but I hope that the strength I know that you have is still in there. You're the only one who can use it.
"I know we've had our difficulties, but when push gives to shove, you've even taken a stand against me, and on multiple occasions. You challenge when confronted with something you disagree with. You offer kindness when you find someone in distress. You put your life on the line when you want to protect. Even after everything you've been through, that you still find the strength to laugh, even though I find that laughter annoying, it's admirable. I don't want you to lose that laughter, not to Deathstroke. Not to anyone.
"Because you drag me to watch a movie, tease me at my own expense, make offers that I have refused one too many times, and respect when I do refuse. You wear on my nerves, yet still find ways to surprise, both for the best and the worst. That's the kind of person I have come to learn and I hope that person did not die with our friends."
Silence was her answer, but she sensed a quelling of the turmoil within. At least he was listening. For now, he was. Until it was time to move, she would remain close by.
Red Robin's words from earlier decided now was a good time to remind her of the makeshift plan, to get Beast Boy to a hospital and to go underground next. The last part didn't bother her too much; she had experience with it. It would be leaving Beast Boy in the hands of doctors; would they release him or would it serve to add a target for Deathstroke to zero in on?
Regardless, goodbyes were the intention laid out by their absent leader. Divide and hide, make it harder for their foe to hunt them down, that was the plan. In reality, it was the only plan.
For once, Raven found she did not want to be alone.
The body ached, wracked with soreness, and consciousness only worsened it. Her vision remained black and thus hid the world around her. The surface beneath her body was hard and unrelenting unlike her bed in the Tower. No energy or motivation propelled her to embrace the world around her and so she remained still and hurting.
Quiet voices prodded at her consciousness, prompting her to emerge from the recesses of slumber against her will. More time to convalesce would be very much appreciated. The voices continued to speak, and thus she would need to emerge from the recessed of her mind.
Cracking open exhausted green eyes, Starfire allowed her vision to adjust to the dark room she was laid in, dim light providing little optically. Anything she could see was blurry, but with each passing second did it become clearer. Shapes gained more solidity, more color, and more definition. Her pupils shifted while keeping her head still, surveying her surroundings for more of a clue as to what her whereabouts consisted of.
There was a small human, one in white with short hair possessing a red hue. She did not possess any recognition of this individual, and this human had not noticed her awakening. She directed her gaze elsewhere and…found an identical human facing away from her.
Confusion was the primary emotion she felt. Perhaps she may have experienced more blunt force trauma to her cranium?
Unable to concentrate enough to try and decipher this confounding finding, the sore Tamaranean slid her eyes away to find an individual clad in purple. A familiar purple. A most recognizable purple.
Recognition finally triumphed. Needing to verify, she spoke with a surprisingly hoarse voice, "Bun…ker?"
Her comrade who had relocated to another Initiative facility turned his attention to her, joy and exuberance not hidden even by the headwear he wore. " ¡Gracias a Dios! ¡Estás bien! Estaba tan preocupado de que no fuéramos lo suficientemente rápidos y…"
She did not comprehend the meaning behind the words her friend was speaking and she stared bluntly at him as he continued to ramble. The two humans who bore an identical appearance spoke as well, using a similar pattern of speech that Bunker was currently using. They were much louder and tended to take turns of who spoke and who did not, sometimes speaking over Bunker.
As much as she was resistant, Starfire knew that she would need to interrupt. In her current state, she may not be able to obtain the volume needed to gain attention and convey her lack of understanding. Movement, however, had a greater chance of accomplishing this feat, and so she pushed herself up into a sitting position, one which her body objected to.
Regardless, her actions had the desired effect. Bunker was quick to kneel down and help maintain uncertain balance. Once she was sure that she had his attention, the Tamaranean said, "My apologies, but I did not understand what you said."
Bunker blinked, then he slapped one of his hands to his head. "Sorry. I have been speaking nothing but Spanish the last few days. Hold on." To the two identical humans, " ¿Sabes algo de inglés?"
One of the small humans shook his head. " No, Senor Bunker." The words continued to be spoken and with an increased speed, one that Bunker appeared to keep up with.
A snort drew her attention next, and Starfire discovered the source to be none other than…
"Pantha! You too are unharmed!" she exclaimed, then winced. Her vocal outburst had not been appreciated by her body.
Leaning against a wall, arms crossed, the mask-wearing female of whom the Tamaranean had engaged in many a fight and spar gave a sharp nod of her head. "In a manner of speaking, yes. I do not think I can say the same for you. I am surprised you survived the explosion."
A smile of amusement and relief curled her lips. "I too share your surprise at my current state of living. The aching of my body continues to confirm that I have yet to expire."
Pantha reciprocated the smile. "Then I am glad. I would have hated to have lost a sparring partner."
"Speaking of explosions, how were you nearly in one? Especially that one?" Bunker inserted himself into the dialogue. "Had Pantha not spotted you, there is a good chance you would have died. It took a lot to catch and make sure you didn't…I tried to cushion you with my bricks but there's only so much a guy can do, yeah?"
Ah, so that explained why she still lived. The intervention of these comrades was the only reason she remained living. Her gratitude knew no limit.
Taking a deep breath and wincing as her body once more protested, Starfire began to describe the series of events that had culminated in their present circumstances. Beginning with the initial attack, continuing with the failed intervention of the Justice League, the invasion of their home, being chased through the streets of Jump City, and the decision to seek aid from A.R.G.U.S. had led to where Bunker and his allies and intercepted her.
Along with this information, she relayed what Cyborg had been able to learn about their foe and their lack of knowledge of his motivations. Added was how this enemy kept finding them, tracking them to this part of the planet, and refusing to let up with his offense. Now she was separated from her friends of whom she did not know what their current status was or where they were.
Bunker gave a whistle. " Dios mio. I…this is so much worse than I had thought."
Pantha said nothing, her hardened facial expression directed to the floor.
The identical humans shared an expression with one another and then began to speak once more in the language that Bunker easily slipped back into. Starfire found herself watching the exchange, and when she found an opportunity of her own, she made an inquiry.
"Oh, sorry. This is Mas y Menos. They've been helping us since Deathstroke attacked our Tower," Bunker introduced the two. "We would not have been able to catch up to you as fast as we did without their help."
She stared. The name… similar to the cadence of that language they spoke. Mas y Menos. But was that not one name and there were two of them? Confusion returned if only for another reason.
Perhaps this was not the time to inquire further. Should they defeat Deathstroke and live, then she could satisfy her curiosity. Now, how to defeat their foe? He had proven to be a powerful adversary and engaging him straightforwardly would be ineffective. Difficult as it was to admit, Deathstroke's skills surpassed hers. His fighting style was able to master that of the Warlords of Okaara. The powers of the others had been countered and beaten as well.
These remaining Titans, they too had faced with their enemy and had also experienced defeat. Hoping to claim an advantage where there was none would be detrimental. When it came to difficult opponents, Starfire had found that taking their strength away was integral to their defeat. How could Deathstroke's strength be taken away?
Either he was evenly matched…or…
Beast Boy had engaged with their enemy and had achieved a level of dominance. It wasn't maintained long enough, but what if it could be? Not allowing their foe to gain any advantage, vanishing and reappearing while using attacks that could not be effectively countered or blocked, it deprived him of his combat skills and fighting experience.
Maybe that was the way, the means to defeat him? While her friend was able to do it by himself, she lacked Beast Boy's powers and so would have to use strategy to make up for it. Coordinating with Bunker and his teammates was not going to be easy due to their lack of experience in sustaining teamwork. Yet, it would be necessary.
"My friends, if we are to conquer this challenge, we will need to work together," Starfire said, ending the silence.
"We have tried that," Pantha stated.
The Tamaranean shook her head. "Not a loose effort. We will need to plan extensively and we will have to time each and every attack to maximize our effectiveness. My teammate Beast Boy exposed a possible vulnerability, but it is not one achieved through mere circumstance or accident. We will have to create it."
Pantha watched her, then her sparring partner uncrossed her arms and stood taller. "You have my attention."
"Right!" Bunker clapped his hands together. "We start turning this around!"
"I am liking what I am hearing!"
Pause. Starfire whipped her head about, regretted the action as her neck voiced protest, and found that someone had found them. This room was barren, devoid of any decoration or furniture. Dirt and grime was coating it in a thin layer. It was a shelter that was derelict, and perhaps because of that it meant that few would venture into it.
Unless such people were seeking shelter of their own or someone.
Through a doorway, leaning against the frame was a dark-skinned female with a color scheme of yellow and black. Hair that was styled into what appeared to be balls no longer were and draped around a confident face. An arm supported another individual, one in dark clothing and dark skinned, but cloth wrapped around the forehead and acted as a sling for an arm.
They were not threats. No, friends. "You are Bumblebee and…" Her eyes looked over the more injured male.
"Hotspot," Pantha said.
The one made of flames? She remembered and felt grateful that more Titans had survived this onslaught.
"Before you ask, we've been looking for you," Bumblebee announced as she helped Hotspot further into this sanctuary, lowering him to the floor. "Not easy crossing the Eastern Seaboard and trying to stay hidden, let me tell you. Hotspot here has lost enough blood for two people."
"I thought the cauterization had worked," Hotspot groaned from where he now laid down.
"Apparently you neglected the internal bleeding and the broken arm," the female whom Starfire had been told resembled an Earth bee retorted. "We got lucky we caught it in time."
The injured male grimaced but did not say more.
"Now, what's this about I hear about you lot going after that black and orange asshole?" Bumblebee redirected.
The description matched closely with what she had seen of Deathstroke. It was more confirmation that their enemy's attack had been occurring for much longer than they had believed.
Starfire gave a nod of her head. "Our foe has been most persistent in chasing us. If we are to stop him, it means we cannot keep running. However, his strength is considerable. I was in the process of explaining the stratagem that I believe will allow us to triumph over Deathstroke."
Bumblebee frowned. "Deathstroke? I've heard that name before."
"When?" Pantha prompted.
The bee human shook her head. "I overheard Immortus complaining about him. The asshole was practically obsessed with him until one day he stopped and never mentioned the name again. I'm willing to bet this is some H.I.V.E. scheme coming back to haunt us."
Haunt. While she understood the definition, the concept of it continued to elude her. She attributed this to a difference between Earth and Tamaran cultures.
"It does not matter how it started, so long as we finish it," the Tamaranean stated.
"Agreed," Bumblebee said, Bunker nodding his head in affirmation. "So how are the eight of us going to do this?"
For the second time, Bumblebee's words confused her, but unlike the previous one, this involved the simple matter of counting. Seven individuals she counted, so what did Bumblebee mean by eight?
Upon voicing this, the dark-skinned female frowned before rolling her eyes and looking behind her and towards the doorway. "Quick skulking around back there, Ridge. Get in here."
Ah, that was another name, one she believed she had overheard from Beast Boy on an occasion or so. Was this Ridge not a large reptilian mutant? That was her expectation, until a small human with messy brown hair and discolorations on his face that she had been told were called freckles emerged into the room.
Her confusion was shared among the rest, with perhaps the exception of the Mas y Menos individuals who appeared at this new arrival's side instantaneously, reminding the Tamaranean of Kid Flash. They spoke rapidly in the language that they had spoken to Bunker with, and by the frown on the small human's face he did not either.
"I don't speak Spanish. Stop," the boy spoke with a peculiar accent.
"You have the same accent that Ridge does, except it is three octaves higher," Pantha remarked as she approached Mas y Menos and this child. Strong hands physically separated Mas y Menos from this small human. "Explain."
"Long story short, big, scary Ridge is younger than he looks and his transformation is related to feeling safe. Right now he's doing everything in his power to stay pint sized," Bumblebee explained, crossing her arms.
"Because a large lizard man stands out and I would like to remain inconspicuous," the small and human Ridge confirmed.
"You can get big and ugly, though, right?" Bunker asked.
Youthful eyes narrowed. "Yes."
Very well. So eight they were. If they could reunite with her team, then perhaps their probabilities increased. The Tamaranean dared to hope. So long as her strategy and tactics worked, victory was within their vision.
This room was not well lit. Some odd device was being used to illuminate their surroundings and Bunker had not mentioned where it had been found. This meant that portions of this sanctuary were in shadow.
From one of these shadows, something emerged and began to approach. It cast its own shadow and this shadow fell over the sore Tamaranean and the assembling group of Titans. Noticing the sudden discrepancy, and feeling a surge of epinephrine, Starfire twisted her torso about to face whatever else inhibited this place, a hand flashing alive with her life energy.
Her eyes widened.
Pain was an old friend. It was why Deathstroke endured it as he treated his wounds. The latest blood-soaked cotton swab was cast away, the process of cleaning and disinfecting taking longer than it typically did.
Of all the Titans…a reassessment of their powers and skills was needed. There were going to be scars here. Being wounded by a beast had been low on his list possibly injuries he'd ever sustain, and he was.
"I hope you don't get into anymore fights with wild animals, Slade," Wintergreen remarked, holding up a roll of gauze. His old friend began to unwound it, preparing to wrap a good amount of the assassin's body.
On top of the wounds from Beast Boy, there was much bruising. These were incidental and unimportant. Just proof of everything he had to do in Waller's private prison.
An update revealed the Belle Reve was still standing. Any and all reports coming in from that area agreed about an explosion in the sky. There could only be one explanation for that. Those Titans had found a way to move Major Force.
He himself had been fleeing the prison when the detonation occurred. There had been hope that he might have been wrong, but other sources were confirming. For all intents and purposes, those children were still alive.
The hunt would continue.
"I'll bring bigger guns," Deathstroke replied, raising an arm up while the first layer of gauze was applied. Around his torso it went, Wintergreen working quickly.
Wintergreen merely shook his head and did not give any of that English wit. A sign of disapproval if there ever was one.
Disapprove as he will, Wintergreen would still answer the call if Deathstroke gave it. The respect and loyalty the two shared was too strong for even a distasteful mission to change. No chance of abandonment so once more he would find the last of those Titans and finish it. Then it would be to the last remnants scattered around.
"We know where they went?" the assassin asked as his wounds vanished under the gauze.
It was a moment before Wintergreen answered, the old man's attention focused on starting a second layer. "The last signal picked up had them in New Orleans. There was another cluster heading to the north."
Deathstroke nodded, mulling over the information. Had they divided into groups? Not a bad idea if one had no way of tracking them. He did, though, so this strategy was foolhardy. With less support, it would be easier eliminating them. However, the wording was catching his attention.
"The last signal?" With his helmet removed, his eyebrow was clearly visible as he raised it.
Another delay in response, but Wintergreen answered, "The last location of several signals was in New Orleans before they abruptly shut off. It makes you wonder if they figured out how you were keeping track of them."
Depending on how rapid those signals were killed… No, it was best to assume he had been found out. The tracking program within the Titan's communicators was not his and there had been a note of irony that something one of the Titans had installed into their communications network was being used against them. It meant the communicator he had appropriated back in Toronto was almost useless.
Almost if only because there was a second group. One that went north and New Orleans was to the east. Finding that second group would prove easier to do than the first. You could only work with the most accurate of intelligence you had, and so the group that went north would have to come first.
"Pull up the most recent location of the second group. The only city of note north of Belle Reve is Baton Rouge. So long as they keep their communicators on, I'll be able to find them quickly."
"Unless the first group sent a warning and alerted them of the compromised system," Wintergreen pointed out.
That was a risk, but thanks to his appropriated communicator, that message would have come to him as well. It did make sense to do that, risking that he would find out at the same time. There would be no reason to not warn the second group unless the Titans were entering an eat or be eaten frame of mind. No, that kind of tactic was not in their toolbox. His, perhaps, but not theirs.
"I'll handle that if that is indeed what happens," Deathstroke stated, putting an end to the discussion. The last of the gauze was being applied, one layer bandaged to hold it altogether would finish up this brief medical intervention.
All gashes and cuts, anything that meant the skin was opened had been cleaned and treated with ethanol. The cloth wrapped around them would absorb anymore bleeding and serve as a second skin for the time being. His body examined, his keen eye now turned to gear. The Titan's shapeshifter had done a number on his armor and it would need to be fixed or replaced.
Fortunately, he had a backup. One not as durable as that set was, but it would work all the same.
However, before he could start with the wardrobe change, there was a ringing that interrupted his musing. Frowning, the one-eyed man strained his hearing to zero in on what was causing that noise. It wasn't even any of his gear; he would know, nothing of his made such a loud sound.
Wintergreen located the source, and in his hand he held the Titans' communicator. "I believe this is for you," his old friend said dryly.
Snatching it up, Deathstroke regarded the device for a moment before opening it up. He did not speak, merely waiting to see what would happen.
" I know you can hear me," the voice of the Titans' leader, Red Robin, spoke. " I know you're using our own network against us. We'll never be safe because you probably have other ways to track us. I'm saying enough is enough. You want the Teen Titans? You can't have them. You'll have to go through me first."
Was this boy challenging him? The assassin recalled his brief interactions with the teenager, and he had to say he was not impressed with his skills. The Titan was outclassed in every way possible.
" One-on-one. You and me. Tomorrow night, I'll be waiting for you at the Blüdhaven City Docks. We'll settle this there once and for all."
This call ended then and there, and Deathstroke closed the communicator. Hmm, the confidence on that boy was a little impressive. For the Titan, this was going to be all or nothing. He predicted some kind of deal was going to be offered, one that would be sealed in blood or more likely death.
Still, there was a location to go to. Either Red Robin intended his call to go to only this communicator, or he gambled and sent the call to all the others. If it was the latter, then the rest of the Titans would be trying to make their way to Blüdhaven. They would try to help, interfere, and plain get in the way. It was so predictable.
Now how to take advantage of this?
"Wintergreen, we're going to have to make a quick inventory. The Titan wants to settle this all tomorrow night. I couldn't agree more."
Cyborg's head jerked up, and he frowned.
Red may have told them to turn off their communicators, but the cyborg was still keeping an eye on their system, more specifically the frequency used. Like many frequency lines, it was isolated so only a select few could use it. The only access to it was through the communicators.
His frown turned into a scowl as he picked up the contents of what was using the frequency. He listened in on the call and had a second where he couldn't believe this. Except…he could, and the only certainty was that he wasn't happy.
What was Red thinking? Practically broadcasted his one-on-one with Deathstroke. That asshole was going to kill him!
Well, not if he had anything to say about it.
"Guys, I just picked up on a call," he announced, drawing the rest of the team's attention to him. "Red just challenged Deathstroke to a duel. Tomorrow night. I think we all know what this means."
Wonder Girl closed her eyes and shook her head. She must have had an idea and was still disappointed that it had happened. Instead of name calling or getting angry, the armored blonde said, "We're going to go rescue his ass, aren't we?"
Kid Flash gave a scoff. "We'd be breaking a lot of rules if we didn't!"
Cyborg raised an eyebrow at the speedster, but did not comment. Leave it to the guy with the…uh, let's say second worst injury at this point to remind him of logistics. And naturally, he was going to insist on coming.
"Speaking as the voice of reason here, would we not get in the way?" Raven had peeled herself away from Beast Boy to speak with them. "Three of us are in a state of injury that prohibit acting at their full potential. One of us is exhausted to the bone overusing her powers. Only one of us has had enough time to experience some kind of recovery. Our interference may cause more harm to Red Robin's plan than help."
She…wasn't wrong. While her face was blank, giving away nothing of what she thought, her body hidden so that body language couldn't be read, there was a sense that she already knew what they were going to do. If anything, this was her expressing confidence in their leader's choices.
"We're Titans," Cyborg stated. "We watch each other's backs even when we're doing something unreasonable. Red might have some moves, but we've all fought Deathstroke. We're going to need everyone and that pretty much counts everyone here. The real question is how we're going to get fifteen hundred miles in less than twenty-four hours."
"What he said," Wonder Girl agreed, thumbing at the cybernetic Titan.
Raven gave a sigh. "Improvise as always. I'll try to make sure we don't aggravate our injuries too much. I'll leave transportation to you."
Annnnd…yeah, that was going to be a problem. He asked the question and now he was going to have to answer it. Great.
Well, the clock was ticking. No sense wasting what they had so little of.