Rule Number One.
...
Time travel is an intricate concept that requires a strong and open mind. Leaping into the unknown, whether it be into the future or the past, presents a multitude of perplexing scenarios, with the unnerving possibility of erasing oneself from history. It is a highly complex endeavor that can quickly escalate into a significant predicament. However, rather than pondering the feasibility of time travel, one should contemplate the reasoning behind the Titans decision to send their least qualified member into the past.
...
Chapter One
...
Locked away within the heavily fortified evidence room of Titans Tower lay an artifact so seemingly trivial it was often overlooked by those who cataloged it. A small remnant of a future criminal's suit, it appeared to hold no immediate threat. Yet, unbeknownst to most, this fragment harbored earth-shattering potential, a potential the Titans had narrowly avoided unleashing during its initial capture. The artifact was no ordinary piece of machinery, it was a fragment of an advanced time-travel device—a tool that could rewrite history itself.
The Titans, ever-vigilant against the catastrophic consequences of such power, acted swiftly when they apprehended it. Richard had personally overseen the dismantling process while Victor worked tirelessly to disarm the core components, isolating the volatile quantum circuits from the machine's main framework. Its craftsmanship was beyond anything he had encountered—so advanced that even its broken pieces hinted at untapped capabilities.
The artifact's potential stirred lingering doubts, igniting heated debates among the Titans. Its power posed an undeniable threat, but its destruction carried risks of its own. Could they afford to obliterate every trace of its existence, even if it meant erasing knowledge that could one day be used for good? Or was it wiser to safeguard it, ensuring it remained hidden and protected, far from the grasp of those who might exploit its power?
After hours of debate, the team reached a reluctant consensus, the artifact would remain locked away in the evidence room. For twelve long years, it would remain untouched, an enigma collecting dust beneath the Tower's vigilant gaze.
Or so they thought.
The Tower's alarms blared through the silent halls, their piercing wails shattering the stillness of the night. Titans scrambled from their quarters, converging on the evidence room, only to find their worst fears realized. The artifact was gone. Vanished.
Victor's investigation confirmed the grim truth, the Tower's security system had been breached with surgical precision, its cameras offering only fleeting glimpses of a shadowy figure slipping through their defenses. The implications were staggering. Even in its incomplete state, the artifact had the potential to alter the fabric of reality. The Titans knew that in the hands of an enemy, it could become a weapon of unimaginable destruction.
Desperation set in like a suffocating fog. Every ticking second heightened the stakes as the Titans grappled with the grim realization that their enemy could already be unraveling the artifact's secrets. The thought of its dormant powers being unlocked sent chills through the team, and the weight of failure loomed heavily over them. They scoured every lead with relentless determination, contacting allies across the globe and analyzing every shred of data the Tower's systems could muster. Yet, no matter how hard they pushed, the thief's trail was as elusive as a shadow in the dark.
Richard, burdened by the responsibility of leadership and the unrelenting pressure to protect the world, felt the weight of the situation bearing down on him. As the team's morale began to fray under the strain, he proposed a solution so radical it silenced the room.
The plan was audacious, bordering on reckless. Using Victor's expertise they would construct their own version of a time-travel device—one powerful enough to take them back to the precise moment they had sealed the artifact away. Their goal was simple yet daunting: to destroy it before it ever became a threat, even if it meant defying the very laws of time and space.
The simplicity of the plan belied the monumental task that lay ahead. Victor, driven by Richard's urgency, reached out to S.T.A.R. Labs, informing them of their precarious predicament. The renowned scientists, notorious for their pioneering research, were eager to rise to the challenge. Victor collaborated closely with the brightest minds in temporal physics, spending months buried in blueprints, quantum equations, and cutting-edge technology. The work was grueling. Days blurred into nights as the team worked tirelessly, driven by the knowledge that every second wasted was a second closer to catastrophe.
Finally, after months of relentless effort, they achieved a breakthrough. The resulting machine, though massive and immobile, was a triumph of science and ingenuity. Its core shimmered with an otherworldly light, humming with the energy required to tear through the fabric of time. It was capable of generating a wormhole into the past, a monumental leap forward in temporal manipulation.
The scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs, however, were far from ready to celebrate. They harbored reservations and insisted on conducting further tests to ensure the safety of this groundbreaking feat. After all, this was the first instance of time travel facilitated by a machine constructed within their current era, giving rise to a plethora of unknown risks.
Richard knew they were right, but the luxury of time was not on their side. Every day they delayed was another day the enemy could unlock the artifact's full potential.
When the machine was activated, the wormhole flickered into existence—a swirling vortex of light and energy, mesmerizing yet foreboding. However, the team's elation was short-lived. The wormhole, though functional, was barely five inches in diameter—a glaring flaw that rendered it useless for transporting a person.
The scientists, unwavering in their determination, posited that with more time, they could expand the wormhole to a more viable size. Yet, with time relentlessly working against them, Richard refused to abandon their mission. The wormhole, though small, was still usable—if they could send someone capable of adapting to its constraints.
...
Garfield stood at the center of the room, apprehension etched across his face. His unease was palpable as he grappled with the weight of the plan. The prospect of venturing into the future seemed exhilarating and less prone to catastrophic mishaps. However, the prospect of journeying into the past, as his leader had thoroughly explained, presented an array of problematic variables. The slightest misstep had the potential to reverberate throughout time, exerting tremendous pressure on the changeling. The hum of the colossal machine filled the air, a symphony of mechanical whirs and electrical sparks that only added to his growing apprehension.
"Let's go over the plan again." Richard said firmly, his piercing gaze fixed on Garfield.
The changeling heaved a sigh. "Go through the wormhole, hopefully landing in the past before we dismantled the artifact. Infiltrate the Tower, find the artifact, use it to return to my original time, and then destroy it completely. Easy-peasy." His voice was laced with forced humor, masking his nervousness.
Richard's expression remained serious. "And remember, no drastic alterations. The smallest change could have catastrophic effects on the present."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. *Butterfly Effect.* Don't worry, I won't step on any butterflies." Garfield quipped, rolling his eyes in exaggerated annoyance.
Richard's sharp eyes narrowed, but he didn't reprimand him. Normally, a sarcastic remark like that would earn Garfield a lecture about the gravity of their mission, especially given the stakes. But Richard understood his teammate well enough to know the joke was Garfield's way of keeping the mounting tension at bay.
Victor stepped forward, arms crossed over his broad chest. "And what's rule number one?" He asked, his voice steady.
Garfield sighed dramatically, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the entire universe rested there. "No contact with anyone from the past, *Especially* not with my past self."
Victor nodded approvingly, then turned back to the control panel, carefully inputting the date. "The timeline's a delicate thing, Gar. We can't afford any screw-ups. Also, keep in mind, while the date is precise, we have no control over the exact location the wormhole will spit you out. You could end up in Jump City… or somewhere completely random."
Garfield threw his hands up in mock enthusiasm. "Oh, great! Maybe I'll take a scenic detour through Antarctica while I'm at it."
"Garfield." Richard said, cutting through the sarcasm, "are you ready?"
Garfield chuckled nervously, his voice trembling slightly. "Nope, not even close."
Ignoring his friend's apprehension, Richard signaled to the scientists. The lab burst into a flurry of activity as levers were pulled and switches flipped. The machine roared to life, emitting a deafening hum as arcs of electricity leapt between its conduits. Slowly, the air at its center shimmered and twisted, forming a swirling vortex of light.
Garfield stared at the portal, its hypnotic glow both captivating and foreboding. He swallowed hard, his usual bravado momentarily giving way to the gravity of the moment. Drawing in a deep breath, he nodded to himself. "Alright, let's do this."
In a blink, he morphed into the form of a hummingbird, his tiny wings buzzing with nervous energy. He hovered before the portal for a heartbeat, then darted forward, plunging into the shimmering vortex.
The sensation was unlike anything Garfield had ever experienced. It wasn't like traveling through space—it was as if the very fabric of reality bent and twisted around him, folding time itself to accommodate his passage. Colors and sounds blended together in an overwhelming symphony, disorienting and awe-inspiring all at once.
When he finally emerged, the abrupt stillness was jarring. Garfield transformed back into his human form, instinctively patting himself down to ensure he was intact. He was not only the Titans last hope but also the guinea pig for this experimental venture, and the uncertainty of potential side effects loomed in his mind.
Taking a moment to steady his racing heart, Garfield steeled himself for the pivotal task that lay before him. He had successfully navigated the intricate corridors of time, standing now at the precipice of an altered history, ready to embark on his mission and reshape the course of destiny.
"Okay, not dead. That's a win." He muttered, glancing around. But as he surveyed his surroundings, Garfield realized he was stranded in the middle of an endless grassy expanse, with no discernible landmarks to guide him. The field stretched out in every direction, a monotonous sea of green broken only by the occasional sway of the wind. Frustration bubbled up as he ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. "Great. Just perfect." He grumbled. "No big deal, Garfield. Just find a way to cross a couple of monuments and navigate this mess." Rubbing his temples, he tried to suppress the growing irritation that threatened to engulf him.
With a sigh of resignation, he shifted into the form of a hawk, his body shrinking and feathers sprouting as his perspective shifted skyward. The cool breeze ruffled his wings as he took to the sky, soaring higher and higher until the grassy field became a patchwork of green and brown far below. His sharp eyes scanned the horizon relentlessly, searching for anything—landmarks, roads, buildings, anything that could hint at civilization.
Time seemed to stretch as hours passed, the repetitive landscape below offering little reprieve from his growing weariness. His wings began to ache, but he pressed on, determined to find some semblance of direction. Finally, just as doubt began to creep in, a town appeared on the edge of the horizon, its clustered rooftops and winding streets a beacon of hope amidst the vast wilderness.
Relief surged through him as he descended, wings folding gracefully as he landed behind a row of trees on the outskirts of town. Transforming back into his human form, he cautiously emerged from the cover to avoid drawing attention to his arrival.
The town was small but lively, bustling with the chatter of locals and the occasional vehicle driving by. Weaving through the crowd, Garfield kept his head low, his senses on high alert as he searched for a way to confirm his location and the time period.
A newspaper in a nearby trashcan caught his eye, and he quickly grabbed it before skimming the front page. His eyes darted to the date printed at the top, and relief flooded him. The machine had worked, he was in the correct year.
But as his gaze traveled further down the page, his heart sank. "Washington State?!" He exclaimed under his breath. "That's like… a thousand miles from Jump City!" He groaned, crumpling the paper in frustration. "Of course. Why not? Nothing about this mission can be easy." Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. "It's fine. I'll just… fly there. No big deal." He repeated the words like a mantra.
Summoning his resolve, he glanced toward the distant horizon, preparing for the long flight. With practiced ease, he shifted back into the form of a hawk and launched himself skyward, his wings beating steadily against the wind. The enormity of the journey ahead weighing heavily on him. He flew tirelessly, stopping only briefly to rest or refuel at small towns along the way.
Fatigue became his constant companion. No amount of rest seemed to alleviate the exhaustion that gnawed at him. The thought of finally retrieving the artifact and ending this grueling ordeal was the only thing keeping him going.
After hours of relentless flight, Jump City finally materialized on the horizon, its towering skyscrapers and bustling streets illuminated by the glow of twilight. The sight of Titan's Tower, standing proudly amidst the cityscape, rekindled Garfield's determination, offering a bittersweet sense of solace and familiarity.
Perched on a sturdy tree branch overlooking the tower, Garfield took a moment to catch his breath and formulate a plan. He knew that walking through the front door was out of the question, the risk of running into his younger self or one of his teammates was too high. He needed a discreet entry point that minimized the chances of detection.
His sharp eyes scanned the tower, and soon he spotted an opportunity. Kori's bedroom window was slightly ajar, her love for fresh air providing him the perfect chance for a covert entry. Wasting no time, Garfield shifted into the form of a spider, his small size and nimble legs ideal for navigating the tight space. With silent precision, he climbed the exterior wall, slipping through the window and into Kori's room.
Inside, young Starfire sat at her vanity, humming softly to herself as she brushed her fiery hair. Garfield froze, his many eyes fixed on her. The sight was a jarring reminder of simpler times, of the team they once were before the burden of adulthood weighed on their shoulders. Shaking off the wave of nostalgia, he skillfully scaled the wall, heading toward the air vent near the ceiling.
Slipping into the vent, Garfield transformed into a mouse, scurrying through the intricate network of passages that crisscrossed the tower. Occasionally, he peeked through the slotted vents, orienting himself by glimpsing familiar rooms below.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached the evidence room. Emerging from the vent, Garfield scaled down the wall before shifting back into his human form. Crouching low, he surveyed the room, relief flooding through him as he noted the absence of security cameras, an oversight from their younger selves that he silently thanked.
Rising to his feet, Garfield moved quickly, his eyes scanning the rows of evidence cases. His heart pounded as he searched for the artifact. The room's silence was interrupted only by the rapid shuffle of his feet and the rustling of papers as he sifted through the inventory.
But just as his fingers brushed against the case he was searching for, the metallic creak of the doors swinging open froze him in place. His breath hitched, and his instincts took over. Transforming into a spider, he scrambled to the base of the nearest case, tucking himself into the shadows.
To his dread, Beast Boy strolled into the room, blissfully unaware of the temporal anomaly hiding mere feet away. He whistled a jaunty tune as he crossed to an empty evidence slot, depositing Control Freak's remote with a casual flick of his wrist. Securing the lock, he turned to leave, but his eyes caught something on the floor.
"Man, do we need to spray for bugs again?" Beast Boy muttered, his gaze narrowing on the oversized spider lurking near the case. Grabbing a binder from a nearby table, he rolled it up as he advanced with a determined stride. "Jeez, that's a big one too."
Panic surged through Garfield. He had one second to act. As Beast Boy raised the makeshift weapon, Garfield shifted back into his human form, springing to his feet with his hands raised in surrender. "Wait!" He urgently interjected, halting Beast Boy's impending swing.
The magazine slipped from Beast Boy's grasp as wide eyes mirrored his shock, betraying a tumultuous mix of astonishment and apprehension. Before Garfield could say or do anything, Beast Boy let out a scream, the sound shattering the tense silence of the evidence room.
...