Author's Note: Details about the next story are in the author's note at the bottom. Enjoy.
So Far Away
Now that we're here
It's so far away
All the struggle we thought was in vain
All in the mistakes
One life contained
They all finally start to go away
Now that we're here it's so far away
And I feel like I can face the day, and I can forgive
And I'm not ashamed to be the person that I am today
So Far Away - Staind
Battered but not quite broken, the restraints that held the unmasked Slade Wilson to the gurney he was laying on was not just to keep him steady and still. The wounds he had suffered were not going to be ones he healed quickly from.
There was a time to fight, and this was not it.
There was a slight jolt that ran through his body as the gurney was loaded into the back of an ambulance. When the doors shut, it closed off the sight of flashing reds, blues, and greens. Of course, the locals were here to find out what had caused the disturbance at their port. Feds were going to be on their way if they weren't waiting for him at the nearest hospital. If A.R.G.U.S. could manage it, they'd stick their noses in too.
Despite his current condition, he was not at all dismayed or intimidated by his restraints. Neither did he bluster or spit. He remained calm, letting everything happen without even a whimper or grunt. What would be the point? Besides, if they thought this could hold him, they were sadly mistaken.
Beside him, one of the EMTs was checking on his vitals, making sure nothing surprising happened. The man looked a bit old for this kind of job, but the way he moved meant he wasn't burdened by it. Perhaps a man that had aged faster due to stress.
"You'll want to keep still," the EMT murmured, and Slade frowned slightly, the first indication that he was caught off guard. That was a peculiar accent, one he hadn't expected to hear unless he was in the United Kingdom. "The roads here aren't the best, but I suppose I can get my partner to take it easy."
His mask had been taken off a while ago, leaving his face exposed. White, shellacked hair drooped against the skin over his head, scratch marks were visible on the right side of his face, and his single eye took a hard glance at the EMT beside him. That man was in uniform and was wearing a cap on his head, the brim shading the eyes.
His eye narrowed as he picked up on smaller details. Then his eyelid closed, and his lips quirked, almost smirking. Now he understood.
That son of a bitch. Even with all the attention on him now, Wintergreen had still found a way to his side, here to help patch him up and potentially have a way out of this. Indeed, he was in safe hands, and even if the worst were to happen, his old friend would find him a way out. If anyone thought that this was the end of it, they were mistaken.
Those Titans were still alive, of that he was certain. They would be making changes, strengthening themselves, taking on new challenges, and rebuilding their little Initiative. Let them. Let them do so and regain their sense of invincibility. It would make it all the more satisfying to tear it down once more. He could use the challenge.
But before that, he would have to make sure no one and nothing stood in his way. Victory had eroded him, the initial victories making him more and more complacent. Blinded with arrogance, it had left a chink in his armor that had been exploited. To think, it was against a man he had fought before, who needed the intervention of another to stand a chance.
Get through me first. If that wasn't a challenge, then the assassin didn't know what was. Fine. So be it. What was one more dead body?
For now, he would recover, allow Wintergreen to patch him up, and then a new hunt would begin.
It had been a couple months since it had all gone down. Now…now they were back. Mostly back. Things were still working themselves out. But you know, Cyborg found himself appreciating the view from the Tower. Yeah, cleaning up the mess left behind had been a chore, but it had given him a lot to think about and had given him a chance to really take in the view.
The ocean to the west and the city to the east. This was home and damn it would he give it up again. But there were going to need to be changes. With their security, he would take charge. The way it was breached couldn't happen again, their communications also needed some reworking, and let's not forget about his baby, sacrificed to buy them time.
There was a T-car 2.0 in the future, and he was already drawing up the plans.
This was going to take a lot of work, more than just patching up the Tower. In fact, there was so much more going on than just some construction. They themselves needed some rebuilding as well. Take his right arm, for example. Taken out of commission for much of the mess, and once the dust was settled, he had to get it fixed.
There was still…distance between him and father. That was something that was going to take time to address. But, it was ol' Silas Stone who fixed him up. Got his arm working as good as new. A few new patches and upgrades were done, and of course Kori kept an eye on everything.
That Tamaranean was a tough girl. He still couldn't believe she had found a way to survive that explosion. For a bit, like the rest of them, he had thought the worst had happened, and had needed to put his shock and surprise aside when he had learned of her survival. When they were safe again, cue the waterworks. Good to know the remaining tear ducts he still had worked.
Kori was really renewing her training, though. Deathstroke had really shown them up on their physical abilities. Kori was determined not to let it happen again. Hell, maybe she could come up with some tricks that would make Blackfire's head spin when those two had their big showdown. That was still far off, if his favorite Tamaranean were to be believed.
Couldn't blame her really. All the power that his own body had and it was moot for a good chunk of it. He himself needed to get better. Be better.
And speaking of better, Bart had gotten his knee fixed. From what he had overheard, that had been a long surgery. Turns out, that mangled joint had gotten even more mangled, but that wasn't due to all the moving and running around. Speedsters could heal quickly, and so they had to undo a lot of that healing so that they could replace the knee. Superfast metabolism meant that anesthesia was not effective. The poor guy and all that pain…but that crazy kid had gone through it like a champ, not even a whimper.
They were going to keep Bart on some observation, though, and slowly test out that knee replacement. S.T.A.R. Labs had gone all out to make one that a speedster could use, and so further testing was definitely going to be needed.
Raven didn't seem to need much help. A lot of time sleeping and she was good as new.
The same couldn't be said about Gar. It felt so wrong that his little buddy was so quiet nowadays. Hell, the Green Bean was doing his best impression of Raven, keeping himself locked up in his room, away from others. Oh, he helped with the rebuilding, don't get the cybernetic Titan wrong, just…there hadn't been a movie night in a while. No game sessions. No hanging out with the bros.
Cyborg understood it to an extent. He did. Gar was still hurting from losing Terra. Still grieving. Those two had been close. Kinda suspected that they were close if you got his meaning. That kind of tragedy would get anyone down. She didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve to die.
A part of the Tower was going to be refurbished, its purpose changed. Red agreed with it, no one else disagreed, so a memorial to those who had fallen was still underway. A couple rooms were being repurposed, and there was an idea to make life-size statues or models, what have you, to try and pay respects to those who had fallen. Not just Terra either, all of them. That was going to take a lot of work.
But they couldn't forget. Titans North was going to need a lot of restructuring, meaning it was going to need a practically new team. Almost the same thing for Titans East, but Bumblebee was determined to get that changed. Titans South needed its Tower rebuilt, but on the team front, they had two new recruits, those Mas y Menos kids. The other Titans leaders thought that their own memorials were a good idea, so you know, everything to make them would need to be in bulk.
Red and Cassie were out right now. Each still had their own business to take care of. Last he checked, Red was spending time with his folks, which, good on him. At least his family could still function like one. Plus the Drakes were nice people. Didn't want any harm coming to them. He would check in on those guys when Red got back. As for Cassie, she was more mum about what she was doing.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn, this whole thing…it was easy to think about the things you could do, but really, how were they going to get past this? Down to seven from eight. The League was still supporting them, but there were going to need to be more changes there. Word had not gotten back to them yet, but it was only a matter of time.
Well, whatever it was, he, and they, would take it on head on. They were Titans. Teen Titans. You know what, maybe they needed to have a talk about the name. About half of their group wouldn't be considered teens at this point, so maybe a reworking of the name too. Didn't make sense to keep them perpetually teens, right?
That would come later, though. First, he needed to get their new TV installed.
Priorities, you know?
Some people might scratch their heads if they could see him now. Bart Allen, fastest kid and Titan around, wasn't at his normal haunts. That was the right word, right? Places that you went to because you liked being there? Were those still things?
Anyway, he wasn't in the places he tended to go to. You could say that all over Jump City was one of his usual places. Running just for the sake of running. Still, taking it easy on the knee. Let that get sorted out. He could walk, had been doing so, and—it was so freaking slow to do! How do people live going at such a slow pace?!
Ahem.
Still, getting used to that.
Weeeell, anyway, he was in a place that he normally didn't go. Yeah, the Tower had a place like it, but the selection was only so large and he had already gone through it all. Here, in the Jump City Public Library, he was taking his time, looking stuff up. Sure, that slow internet in this era was something he could use, but he wanted to be out of the Tower, wasn't in the mood to be staring at a screen all day, so getting out and about was the only real thing to do.
But he had been thinking. When he hadn't had use of his leg, there hadn't been much he had done. And he had wanted to do stuff, fight the bad guy, save the day, whoo. There was a limitation if you relied on your legs all the time, and he wanted to fix that.
He had a whole body to work with, so he had been looking up books that had to do with anatomy, sports, anything that could give him some ideas of what to do with his upper body. Red had mentioned something he could do a while back, back on the plane, arm-wrestling and…something about a box. He was going to be looking it all up. Learn everything he could.
Never again was he going to be dead weight. Dragged around and held back because damn, do you know how much it hurts to get your knee blown out? You know what was even worse? Fixing it. Yeah, he was finding out about the downsides of superspeed and that was how it acted on you without you knowing, like metabolism and healing.
On the plus side, he didn't need crutches.
The leg felt a little different. He was just going to have to get used to that, but still, no sense sitting around when he could be doing something. So the library. A place. With books. There was a place like that in the Tower. But it was quiet. Not a lot of people. So. Bart didn't feel like being alone, and everyone else had something they were doing.
The speedster read through the titles of countless—no, that was two thousand five hundred and fifty-six titles and counting—books, and when he found something, he pulled it out. Found a place to sit down, and then everything slowed down as he read through all the contents in less than a second, then stood up once more to put it on a table and find another title.
To the sports section did he go for the next one. Okay, which one, which one, skimming through these titles and seeing if anything caught his attention. From top to bottom, left to right, he moved down the row, reading every single word his eyes looked over and continued until he was about halfway. Why halfway? Well, see, by the time he was halfway down this shelf, someone else was turning into this row and he almost didn't see her.
Bart nearly crashed into her, but superfast reflexes stopped that in time. Blinking, he looked to the girl that he almost ran over and then wondered how she had gotten there. She looked about his age, had black hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, and was wearing glasses. Those were the first features he picked up on. Secondary details came later, like the healthy color of her skin, brown eyes, and clothes. She was wearing clothes like everyone here. Blue in color. Hmm.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Something wrong?"
Bart tilted his head to a side. "Oh. Oh, almost didn't see you there."
"You didn't see me? In your own world, I take it?" the girl asked back, and there was some amusement. Also a bit of a twang. Kinda hard to put his finger on what it was.
"Guess, you could say that," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "I can miss things that are right in front of me sometimes."
Part of her lips quirked up into some kind of half-smile. "Missing any of these?" Her head gave a pointed jerk to the books beside them.
Yellow-colored eyes flickered to them, stared at them for a second—which could be an eternity for a guy like him—then returned to the girl. "Not yet. Nothing has grabbed me yet."
"Hmm." Brown eyes took much longer than him to look over the shelf. "Didn't think a guy like you reads up on sports. Some kind of assignment? You look like the type that likes to do than get it second hand."
"I want to do some of these things but I want to know what they are first," Bart said, shrugging his shoulders again.
"Really. Anything that you have your heart set on?" she asked.
It didn't take much time to give that question a thought. "Something that really needs my upper body. Had a bad time when I couldn't use a leg and it was so boring. So I want to do something that doesn't always need it."
Dark eyebrows raised up. "Interesting. Need any help?"
Not seeing any reason not to, "Sure."
Now the rest of her mouth was smiling. It was kinda nice to look at. "Got a name?"
Of course he had a name—oh right, she wanted to know what it was. "Bart Allen."
"Carol. Carol Bucklen," the girl introduced herself in turn. "New to the area. Grew up in Manchester, Alabama. You come from here or elsewhere?"
He came from the—hmm, probably not a good idea to get into that. Some people had problems with him coming from a future that hadn't happened yet but he knows that it is going to happen, so he went with a standby. "Used to be Central City before I moved here." Or Wally convinced Red to take him under the Titans' wing. "I've gotten to know the place."
"Then maybe you know some good places to go, that is after we find you something that you are interested in," Carol remarked.
He found himself smiling back. Oh, she had no idea the good places he knew.
In some ways, this meeting was one long in the making. Cassie knew she felt uncomfortable as all hell, but…but really there was no one else she could turn to.
It's just…how do you face someone like Diana—Wonder Woman—and with some of the sordid past she had made for herself? Diana was all about truth and saving the day and all, but how would a woman like her take someone like Cassie doing some less than scrupulous actions like breaking and entering and stealing? Where once she enjoyed the thrill, while standing in front of someone she had looked up to when she was younger, it felt more like a source of shame.
There, right there, on her hip was the legendary, golden Lasso of Truth. No way could she touch that, not now. Who knew what she would say?
Diana, though, was smiling down at her in that soft way of hers. It was the kind of smile that you only shared with those you trusted or really liked. Cassie didn't feel worthy of that smile anymore. She had been hoping that her time with the Titans might have let her feel a little differently, but what could you do?
The hero of Gateway must have sensed that Cassie wasn't going to start first. This was even when it was the blonde-haired girl who had requested this meet up. So lame. "I was surprised that you wanted to see me, but it is very welcomed. We haven't spent a lot of time together in a long time, have we Cassie?"
Tell her about it. Damn, she couldn't even look up at the paragon of truth and justice and the Amazon way. Well, maybe not that last one, but still.
"Yeah…" she finally began, dragging that one world out a little. "Yeah, I've been…I've had a lot on my mind and…stuff."
Why was this so hard? When she had been younger, it had been so much different. A regular babbler and the mythical princess who would listen and teach her the truth of what she had been talking about at the time. It was hard to be reminded of how the blonde idolized the warrior princess and still did.
This meeting was happening right here on the rooftop of the Tower. A great view of Jump City was right over there if you cared to look at it, and if that wasn't to your taste, then the blue of the Pacific was in the opposite direction. The smell of sea salt flavored the air but the cool breeze that blew in felt too chilly.
"I would imagine you've had a lot on your mind lately, Cassie," Wonder Woman said, still being diplomatic. "If you would like, I can listen."
Like the old days? Don't remind her. Still, Cassie had been the one to ask for this, and she couldn't and wouldn't back out now.
Holding up an arm, bent at the elbow, she willed the gauntlet of her armor into existence. Really, this right here was the reason, and she wanted Wonder Woman to understand it. For her part, Wonder Woman glanced at the gauntlet then returned her gaze to her, waiting patiently.
Finally, going for broke, "I don't know what this is. I don't know why I have it. It don't know if it chose me or what, and it can act really weird. It protects me from almost all damage I take…except…this time it wasn't really working. I got hurt in ways I haven't before. I got a concussion for the first time since I got it. A friend of mine pointed out how little I know about it, and at the time I didn't really care.
"But I almost lost everyone. It was so close too many times. The Titans, we're still not fully healed, and when it came to trying to stop it, this armor was next to useless and I don't know why. I'm tired of not knowing why, and maybe my friend was right. Maybe I need to know what it is, what it can do, and how maybe I can be in charge of it instead of waiting for it to show me something new. I can't be passive anymore, not if I want my friends to stay alive and that I can protect them."
Like old times, Wonder Woman let her talk and listened to every word. Some people had the impression that the Amazon was all action, but that was further from the truth. She was a great listener, and when you thought about it, listening was a way to be able to tell the truth and recognize where the lies were. This Kickass Lady as the blonde had once thought of her as could be so patient and thoughtful, and it almost hurt to know that she had been depriving herself of this on purpose.
So much change, so little time. Pride and shame, cover it up with bluster, make people think you were snarky and angry all the time. That kept them at arm's length. But then you get someone like Red, someone who refuses to leave you alone, and bit by bit, it crumbles away.
As Deathstroke had taught her, she didn't have forever with them. All the last second heroic saves had to be swift because if you were even a fraction of a second too slow, that was all the difference. Not all wounds were physical too.
Remaining the same was not an option.
Looking up into Wonder Woman's blue eyes with her own pair, Cassie made her request. "Can you help me? Can you help find out everything about this armor? What it is, who made it, what it's suppose to do. Why it chose me?"
There wasn't a second's hesitation. Wonder Woman gave a nod of her head. "I will do what I can. Have you told your mother?"
Screeching halt. "No. No, she doesn't know and…I don't…do you know how mad she's going to be if—when—I don't…she's going to blow a gasket, I know that much!" Now she was babbling. Babbling and flustered and oh, just thinking about how red Mom's face would be if she ever…
"Your mother needs to know," Wonder Woman said gently. "She could be of great help."
"Please. Don't tell her," Cassie begged. Oh no, now there was that look of disapproval. Blank face, but those blue eyes were expressive enough. "I… It should come from me. If anyone were to tell her…it should be me."
Disapproval changed to begrudging approval, but the blonde teen knew what her old idol would prefer her to do. That would be to march on down home and tell her now.
Giving a sigh, "I don't know how mad she's going to be, just that she's going to be furious. Would…would you be there…when I tell her?"
When there was no immediate response, Cassie found herself looking to Wonder Woman who was…a bit pensive.
"It does not have to be right now. Perhaps when we know more so that she can be assured that you are in no danger," the black-haired Amazon offered.
Wait. Wait. Was…was this symbol of truth…?
"As I recall, Helena, your mother, can be very protective of you," Wonder Woman added, a bit awkward too.
Just like that, there was an understanding between the two of them. Just like old days.
Straightening her posture, Wonder Woman said, "I will look into this and see what answers I can find. In the meantime, protect your friends. Keep your home safe. And…perhaps prepare should your mother's wrath fall upon us."
She could do that.
Green hands gripped the edge of the counter. The arms they were connected to propped up a green-skinned teen who found he could not pull his eyes away from the bathroom mirror they stared into.
Garfield had lost track of time, but really didn't care. It was just so strange what he was seeing. It also reminded him of…everything.
It reminded him of Terra, that feeling of helplessness, the rage and anger that followed, the gun that aimed at his head, and the…and the worthlessness. Tension in the hands built up at those thoughts, and still he did not look away from the reflected sight. There was no use in ignoring it, and why would he?
Why ignore the eyepatch over his right eye?
He had been wearing it since getting back to Jump. Didn't take it off, not even to sleep. Sometimes…sometimes he would touch it, press his fingers on it and add a little pressure before yanking them away.
It…it wasn't entirely true that he never took it off. Changing into a different form, a different animal, most of them couldn't wear the damn thing. It was perfectly fitted for this form, this…weak human form. It…
It still hurt.
The shapeshifter's sense of time was getting screwed up. He was losing track of how long it had been since…since Terra had been murdered. He should have done something, he had been right there, he had powers damn it, and if he had responded as fast as he could change, she would still be alive! What was the point of having any of this, of being a Teen Titan, if he could not protect the people important to him?
He had heard that Deathstroke only had one eye himself. Wore an eyepatch over the right eye too. Just another reminder of everything. You would think he would remember the voice, but every passing day watered it down, made it sound like something and someone else.
Now he was feeling worthless. May have mentioned that a bit ago. It sometimes felt like everyone else pulled their weight. That he didn't add much. Some animals were strong, so were Cy and Kori. And Cassie. Some animals were fast. Bart blew them out of the water. There were no animals known for leading, none known for earthmoving, for picking up things far away without touching, magic, anything involving energy—everything had to be up close and personal and fighting that close was something most here could do.
What did he add? What did he bring to the table? Why couldn't it have been enough? Enough to do anything, to save one damn person, just…
A green eye continued to stare at his reflection. A single reflected eye stared back with a black eyepatch supporting it. All of his attention was focused on it, the sight. You know what attention was also needed for? Everything else, including when someone walks in on you. If you aren't paying attention, they might as well be invisible both to sight and sound.
Then again, Raven did like to keep to herself, out of the way, forgotten about until she reminded you she was a thing. She could blend into shadows and dark spots, but the Tower was usually well-lit. Well, only this bathroom was lit, the room it connected to was dark.
Garfield only became aware of her when she spoke up. "I can take it from you."
His grip on the bathroom counter tightened. He didn't say a thing.
"The pain you're feeling. The hurt. I can take it from you. You don't need to let yourself suffer like this."
Normally, Raven was hard with him. You could always hear it in her voice. Didn't take a joke, sharp and quick, that wall that did not move even when you tried to power through it, and no patience whatsoever. What she had said just now? Soft. Offering. Extending a branch of some kind, didn't remember what it was. Patient.
Because it would take his world falling apart for that to happen.
He couldn't find it in himself to hate or resent. The bad guy was taken care of, right? They were still alive, right? Not all of them. There was nothing right now that he could aim any energy at and destroy, destroy, destroy. It was all that remained, being a survivor, and still seeing that damn sword go through her body and seeing that gunflash right before half of his vision went dark.
Cleaning up the mess in the Tower was distracting. The thing about a mess when you started cleaning up was that you finished. What else was there to do? Nothing fun seemed to appeal to him. He didn't have other things he could do, like Cy rebuilding the car or Kori and her training to kick Blackfire's ass.
It felt so empty. So empty and hollow. It hurt to have it, to feel it, to know it.
His head bowed while his shoulders slumped. He took his eye off his reflection and shut it. Everything about him seemed to sag.
The way his voice cracked and rasped, it had been a while since he had used it. His own voice sounded different, way different than what he was used to.
"Can you make it stop? Can you make it so it doesn't hurt anymore?"
Call him what you wanted, say what you thought about it, he was tired. He was tired of feeling like this. Feeling so weak and helpless and hurting, hurting so bad. Just…he was so tired of everything.
Garfield didn't feel her hands, but he felt pressure from where they placed themselves on his back. He could sense Raven right behind him, so close, closer than she had ever voluntarily chosen to be. He let her do what she did, make good on that offer of taking the pain away.
To forget…
"You pick something, I'll make the popcorn. Make sure whatever you pick, it's good."
"On it."
It was another night off from patrol and managing the Titans. If something big went down, he'd be on it, but for now, Tim was doing something that he felt needed to be done. The dark-haired teen who in a few months would no longer be a minor was spending some quality time with the folks. So much of his time was devoted to the Teen Titans and the Initiative, and after everything, he had figured that he needed to better manage his priorities.
Deathstroke hadn't targeted his folks. That had been a blessing in disguise. Both of the Drakes had been worried sick about him, especially after he had taken the team underground. They had attempted to contact him, but all they had gotten was a voicemail. His phone had had messages galore, and it had been left at the Tower.
It wasn't too hard explaining why he hadn't spoken with them. Didn't really need to lie too much, if at all. If you omitted enough, you could give a general idea and they would fill in the blanks. It did feel a bit manipulative, and Tim felt some guilt about it.
To be honest, it was a minor miracle that neither Dad or Mom had figured out his double life. If he could keep it that way for…the rest of his life, then…then…
It still felt crappy no matter how hard he tried to rationalize it.
Taking them for granted, though, that was something he could change. Redoubling training with Kori was another, but that was a poor substitute. Right now, relaxing and doing some self-care was important. The team would be there tomorrow. They had fought for it, some had died for it, but they had found a way to keep living. Reminding the darker elements of Jump City was also for tomorrow.
Logging into the Netflix account and scrolling through all the options, Tim pondered long and hard about what to watch. Something brainless, something that didn't make him think, no drama or anything like that. Maybe not suspense either. Kinda on the fence with action. A comedy might be a good choice, but finding a good one…
From the kitchen, he could hear the microwave turn on. Dad was going for instant popcorn tonight. That also meant that he didn't have much time to make a choice. But there were so many choices. So many genres. Almost too many. First world problem, sure, but at least he was alive to have it.
Tapping broke him out of his thoughts. It took a few seconds to identify where the sound was coming from, and once he stopped at a window that had light reflecting off gold and the hint of red cloth, he had a good idea what was up.
Loudly, he called out, "Hey Dad, gotta head up to my room for sec. Shouldn't be long."
From the kitchen, unseen but heard, "Don't take too long. Popcorn's best when its piping hot."
And buttery. No need to add that last part. Placing the remote down, Tim headed upstairs to his room. Once there, he turned the light on and shut the door behind him. Once that was done, he went for the window and opened it up. A couple seconds later, a certain Titan known for wearing armor floated into sight.
"Something up?" he greeted as he rested his arms on the windowsill, leaning forward while bending his knees to the point he might as well prop them on the carpeted floor.
"Just wanted to see you," Cassie answered, pushing away some blonde locks of hair away from her eyes. "You're not at the Tower as often as you used to and we haven't had some time together recently."
Tim resisted the sigh that threatened to escape him. Right, with as much time as he was devoting to his parents, it seemed like there were a few other aspects of his life that were starting to be neglected.
"Sorry. I guess I've been caught up in not wanting to have regrets about not spending enough time with the folks," he admitted. "I don't want you to think I'm ignoring you or anything. I guess I just…put too many eggs in one basket."
He got a nod out of her. Must be thinking about her mom now. Between the two of them, they were the only Titans who knew and had any kind of relation with their parents. Victor was estranged from his father and still rebuilding that. The only other Titan that came to mind was flat out avoiding hers, and he only knew that because Raven had revealed the nature of her father to him.
You could really say only the two of them had any kind of relationship with their folks.
Cassie was looking to a side and not at him. "I talked with Wonder Woman. I asked her to help me out with figuring out what this armor is."
Tim hadn't expected that. Now that it was brought up, he too wondered about the armor itself. There was so much they didn't know about it. How did it work? What was it for? However, he felt there was another motivation for such an inquiry.
"None of us were ready. We weren't ready for someone like Deathstroke," he said.
A hand in gold armor clenched. "We should have been. Every fucking killer thrown at us, but this is the one that nearly succeeds?" There was anger there, and it had no real target.
"And we're going to make sure it doesn't. He or anyone else wants a go at us? We're going to be ready." He said this with utmost confidence, the kind only the young still had. They were still alive, right? Whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, and he was determined to become stronger. "You're learning about the armor so you'll be ready with something new for next time."
The blonde teen did not answer that. Just as abruptly as she had brought it up, she then changed the topic again. "You might be right. I'm going to spend some time with Mom. Hopefully she's not about to go to another dig. All the rotten timing, eh?"
"Don't let me hold you up. But first…" Here he trailed off and Cassie turned her blue eyes to him.
Pushing a part of his upper body through the opened window, he stretched out a hand, cupped her check with it, then gently pulled her close while his head reciprocated. She started leaning in, and their lips met, then clashed. It was sloppy. The use of tongue was far from pleasant, but there was only one way to learn. Heat emitted through skin, noses couldn't seem to fit against one another, breath was being shared along with spit, and then they were pulling apart.
Their eyes met, never leaving and smoldering. The temptation to do it again was so strong…
A knock on the door. "What's taking so long, Tim? Popcorn's ready!"
This would have to be enough. Backing away and through the window once more, "I'll see you tomorrow." Then, more loudly and over his shoulder, "Almost done! In a minute!"
Cassie gave a nod and floated off into the night. The teen watched until she was gone from his sight and only then did he close the window. Tomorrow was another day, they were still alive, and most importantly…
They were still Titans.
It was the last bit of business, but it was necessary.
"Construction efforts on the Titans South location should be finished by the end of the week. Renovation will begin and improving the security of the facility will be foremost," J'onn reported. By all appearances, the Martian looked fine. You could not be quite sure, though. His shapeshifting abilities allowed him to hide whatever he wanted, and that included injuries.
The flames from the napalm he experienced had to still be there. His mental recovery, though, was impressive.
"The other three are almost as good as new," Flash confirmed. Then, a bit more subdued, "We're going to have to figure out who the new team is in Toronto. I wouldn't be surprised if any of the kids that haven't been picked decided they don't want to do this."
This had been a devastating blow to the T.I.T.A.N. Initiative. It could not be hidden for long that some of the teens involved had fallen and were killed. The media storm was still vicious, and where there was media attention, politicians followed to try and score more political brownie points. The expansion had been a big deal, but the loss of so many was even bigger.
The League was going to have to field everything and defend its position. The issue of young metahumans would not be going away any time soon. They were here now, and you could expect more would be birthed in the future. Having a place where they could be normal and allowed to learn about their powers was going to be incredibly important. This was something none of them had, exempting those of extraterrestrial nature. For the rest? A good number had to make it up on their own or received their powers far into adulthood.
Wonder Woman couldn't exactly say where she fell. Growing up on Themyscira, she had received all the support she had required, training until she had gained mastery both of her abilities and her combat skills.
That mastery had not helped against their latest foe, and it had failed those caught in the crosshair.
They all sat at a large round table, the seal of the Justice League imprinted in its center. While not the head, people tended to regard the seat that Superman sat in as one of the highest authorities. The man was a natural born leader even if his modesty would not let him admit it.
Superman had recovered from his own injury, monitored by Doctor Mid-Nite to ensure a full recovery. The Kryptonian had been more contemplative since. There was a matter on his mind, but one he had not yet shared.
He continued not to share by addressing the current matter. "We can't give up on this. We'll respect the decision of those who want to drop out, but there's still so many that need help. Let's start by identifying those who still want to participate in the Initiative and go from there."
Nods all around. Then Green Lantern spoke up. "They're getting ready to transfer Deathstroke to his new home. Leavenworth, maximum security, surrounded by an army based on every side. It's one of the toughest prisons to escape from. Even if he gets out, he'll have to get around the armed service men."
"He got out of Belle Reve," Hawkgirl pointed out.
The scandal with Belle Reve was still ongoing, and it served to divert a good number of the media's attention to it. A clandestine, secret government program involving hardened criminals? Wonder Woman had come to understand why such a story would draw such fascination.
It had also drawn League attention. The government, or certain parts of it, were doing their best to cover it up and hide it again. A.R.G.U.S. was involved in this "clean up," and the one time she had managed to meet with Steve, he had given very little detail of what the government agency was doing about it.
The Amazon was not ignorant of prisons. Even Themyscira had its penal island, Transformation Island. It rarely had to be used as Amazon society had managed to find its peaceful status quo, but that did not mean that there was no strife. Sometimes, two warriors could develop a grudge, and that grudge could result in innocent parties being drawn in and harmed.
They would be sent to Transformation Island for rehabilitation and later reintegration. To use those there as a private army, that was unheard of to her. Her mother would never allow such a thing.
The Teen Titans had uncovered, brought to light this Task Force X, and the League would need to keep its eye out for them. That someone was trying to bury it again indicated that this task force was not about to be disbanded.
The name Amanda Waller would only mean that this would be successful.
"I'll be handling transport. If anyone else wants to join me," Green Lantern continued, heedless of the Amazon's thoughts.
"I'll join," Hawkgirl volunteered.
"Me too," Flash added, his normally friendly voice hard.
From what she had learned, the speedster Kid Flash had been horribly maimed and had required a replacement knee. Flash had been shaken by it, and this was reflected when his laidback persona would vanish and leave this…colder version of him. Wonder Woman suspected there was grief that was still unresolved. Did he blame himself for some reason?
With three of their members joining with the transport, Wonder Woman felt one last issue needed to be raised. "I've heard that the remaining Titans are renovating sections of their Towers to serve as memorials. Have the remains of the fallen been interred?"
It was a sensitive topic, and depending on the culture involved, death was viewed differently. Some were negative, some were positive, and others were neutral. There was a wince from Flash, Superman looked down, and Green Lantern maintained his eye contact with her. J'onn did not react while Hawkgirl merely turned her head towards her.
"For the time being, the remains have been interred at each Tower's property. Until we are able to identify the families they belong to, and until such a request is made from them, they shall remain there."
Funeral rites were tricky. No one had thought to develop a plan for what to do should a Titan fall in battle. There was not a plan for any League member currently. Wonder Woman did not ponder such a thing, but now that it was on her mind, what would happen to her? Would she be allowed back to Themyscira to undergo the rites?
Would there be anything left of her to undergo the rites?
"You know, something came up about that," Hawkgirl spoke, and once more Wonder Woman was pulled out of her thoughts. "I spoke with Bumblebee, Titans East, recently. She asked me to look into something. One of the bodies there is missing. He was called Herald. There's a marker for him, but no body. I've been looking into it, but so far there's been nothing that indicates someone went into the Tower. From the wounds I was told about, both from the remaining Titans East and Wonder Woman and J'onn, there is no way he would have been able to get up and walk out of there."
Disturbing. Wonder Woman clasped her hands together, tension increasing as she gripped tighter. Something about what Hawkgirl said though, it grabbed her attention and she found she had to ask about it.
"You mentioned that Herald sustained enough injuries that he could not survive them. His body is not interred. At what point did it go missing?"
Had her helm not hidden most of her face, the Amazon was sure that the Thanagarian's eyes would have conveyed the determination that burned in her voice. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."
The dust of this conflict was only just settling, and already there was another mystery.
Massive machines, cylindrical in shape, emitted an otherworldly light as they hummed loudly. This light lit up the spacious auditorium, untold energies being manipulated towards an operating table where a massive amount of mysterious radiation coalesced.
In the midst of it was a human body, male, athletic and nearly fully grown. Dark pigmentation in the skin hinted at Sub-Saharan ancestry. On a bare torso, stitches could be seen, sealing up stab wounds and large cuts that littered it. Someone had worked to repair this damage. They had also used metal clamps on the ankles and wrists to restrain the body down. As a result, the back was arched, chest and stomach region thrusting upwards.
Yet, there was no sign of life. The chest did not rise or fall.
Still, more indescribable energy was directed towards this operating table, the body absorbing it. It went on for seemingly no end, until a button was pressed and the machines halted the flow of energy. There was a noticeable decrease in the hum of the machinery and simultaneously, the light-based radiation that enveloped the body dimmed out of existence.
All that was left behind was the male body. It remained rested, but if one were to look closely, there was a slight movement in the torso. With each passing second, that movement grew stronger, enough that one could make out the shallow rising of the chest.
The eyelids abruptly snapped open and breathing became more erratic. The mouth parted if only to try and greedily suck in more air. Muscle movements around the eye sockets indicated that the eyes themselves were moving, yet if you were to look at said eyes, you would see no optic organs but instead an eerie light not unlike the kind the machines had emitted.
Fear, panic, all of this could be observed as the awakened male began to push himself up. However, a hand clad in a gray glove placed itself on the male's chest and pushed gently back. There was surprising strength from it, and the male with glowing eyes jerked his head to face the hand's owner.
"It's okay, everything is going to be alright," a young man soothed. He looked friendly enough, gave a winsome smile. Short blonde hair, pale skin of a white Caucasian, he might just be the boy next door. Also, his head was on fire.
Perpetual flame emitted from the boyish head yet did not burn an inch of hair or skin. It was bizarre and the newly awakened male instinctively jerked back from the sight. The young man did not seem put off as he backed off, revealing the purple and black, skintight jumpsuit that he wore. The torso and upper thighs were clad in purple while the arms and remaining portion of legs were in black. A gray-colored belt of indeterminable material wrapped around the waist.
"Who are you?" the male gasped, unseen eyes flickering about and taking in the set up he found himself in. "Where am I?"
"It's okay," the young man continued to soothe. "You're among friends. It's safe."
Safe? Safe from what? What was he—
Instantaneously, memory intruded throughout his head, a headache forming while countless images danced before his mind's eye. A man in black and orange, wielding so many guns, throwing so many explosives, handling a sword with such precision—
Phantom pain spread throughout his torso as the memory of that sword impaling his body, a hand gripping a trumpet in a death grip, blood staining everything, pouring out of him, sight blackening slowly…slowly…slowly…
"You're in good hands," the young man said, not stopping. "If you want, the others are here. Just look up. They're not going to let anything happen to you. I won't let anything happen to you."
Because following directions were much more preferable to the cognitive onslaught, the revived male obeyed and looked up. This place was like an auditorium or theater of some kind. Down here, all sorts of machines and medical equipment that hummed with electricity. Above, a place for spectators to watch, and there were spectators.
The first to catch the male's gaze was a couple. One was a man who also wore the same purple and black jumpsuit. Unlike the young man beside him, this man wore a weird-looking helmet, one that seemed to possess antenna on it. Beside him was a woman, and she kept close to the man's side. As if detecting his gaze was on her, the woman offered a small smile.
Further down, there was another person, but only his shoulder and head could be seen. The head was wrapped in bandages, and other than that, there was nothing else of note. Look the other way, and there stood a foreboding figure that was large, possessed way too many angles to be a living creature, and the shade of orange gave the impression of rust. It was hard to make out any more details.
On the other side of this theater, there stood a few others. Another male, younger than the one before, but there were alterations on his jumpsuit. The sleeves were removed, and a sleeveless black leather jacket was worn over it. A stylized mohawk stretched upwards at unbelievable levels. Next was another one, a woman with red hair that looked like it hadn't been combed in a long time and was completed with a long, tail-like braid. Lastly, there was one more woman, and while she didn't have any accessories, the way she was rocking back and forth against the balcony she leaned against was off putting. The smile was too wide, the eyes too manic.
They all seemed to wear the same jumpsuit, though. The same purple and black. Gray gloves, gray belts, and unless there were alterations like with the mohawk guy, you could say they might be uniforms.
Breathing was calming down. The turmoil in his mind wasn't. So much hurt, so much confusion, and answers, the ones he wanted, just weren't coming. And…and why was that guy's head on fire?!
"Yeah, this must be a lot to take in. The Chief, he'll be able to explain."
With eyes that weren't eyes yet still allowed him to see, the male looked to the young man at his side and repeated, "The Chief?"
The fiery head nodded and then looked away—no, to one other person here. He followed the gaze nearly twisting his head around and at a control panel was a man who was not in any uniform. No, this man, this bearded man wore a brown suitjacket over a red turtleneck, and he sat in a wheelchair, a blanket over his legs.
There was a lot of gray in the hair, replacing auburn. Wrinkles betrayed age, calm seemed to harden instead of relax facial features, and the way he looked…at? Down? That look he was giving the male, it was uncomfortable to be under that look.
This man in the wheelchair then spoke, "Malcolm Duncan. Herald as you were once called, welcome back to the land of the living."
Living? What? What did that mean? And…Malcolm. Herald? That…sounded and felt familiar. It was still hazy, though.
The bearded man continued, "I am Dr. Niles Caulder. I went through and burned many resources retrieving you and enacting your resurrection. In compensation, I want you to do something in return for me."
Herald…Malcolm…who he was now, he felt uncertain and…scared. There was something about this man…
Heedless of the conflict brewing within the revived Herald, Dr. Niles Caulder extended an invitation in which its inviting nature was questionable at best.
"I want you to join my Doom Patrol."
Author's Note: And there we have it, another story finished. Naturally, it can't have everything tied up, now can it? With that cliffhanger over your heads, we can get to what you really want, and that's what comes next. This time, it's going to be a little different. It's a Suicide Squad story called Winter Solstice and it will be posted on ShadowMajin's account. For details as to when it will be posted, you can check out my account for the masterlist.
