Paulie's room was cramped, dingy, and cluttered. It was clear at a glance that his entire life was confined within its four walls. Robin, thinking of the palatial games room at the Tower, felt a twinge of guilt. On the other hand, he remembered that at one time a room like this would have been paradise to him, back when he'd shared a dormitory with nineteen other boys at the Children's Home.

Robin sat in the only chair in the room (a pile of miscellaneous clothing had been pushed onto the floor to make space). Paulie was seated on the bed next to his unwrapped art supplies, hugging his knees.

"Yes, those are mine," said Paulie, nodding at the walls. "I don't really know what possessed me to try those. I was never any good at abstracts. But you said you're interested in portraits?"

"Yeah," said Robin. "I guess the human being as a subject fascinates me. I've spent a lot of time studying faces, bodies. Not just in painting. Athletes, martial artists, gymnasts–anyone who's used their own body as a canvas, sculpted the raw material into a new form. But I guess portraiture interests me because it's a window into the mind. Art can say a lot by what it conceals and what it reveals."

"About the subject?"

"And about the artist."

There was the slightest stiffening of Paulie's muscles, but he turned it into a stretch and relaxed again.

"But these abstracts…" said Robin. "Are they part of the same series as your portraits?"

Paulie was quiet for a moment. "No. To tell the truth, I don't even know what they're about. One day I just woke up and felt… driven to throw some random paint on canvas. There was no shape, no goal. Not sure why I kept them."

"They feel familiar somehow. Those red strokes on top remind me of the walls of a carnival tent. I have a memory from when I was a kid. Heavy red drapes shutting out the world, billowing in the wind, as if reality was bending around me."

Paulie looked at Robin curiously. "Is that what it looks like to you? I always saw a sky, angry and blood-red."

"And those black, jagged shapes? Bats?"

"I thought a flock of ravens."

"Hmm. Have you heard of a Rorschach test?"

Paulie licked his lips. "That inkblot thing they give to psychos?"

"Yeah. Everyone sees something different in the shapes. Supposedly you can elicit material from a person's subconscious by testing them. I wonder if you can paint a Rorschach test without even knowing it?"

Paulie forced a laugh. "Well, if that's a window into my subconscious, I hope it stays repressed. It doesn't look like a place I'd want to visit. Didn't feel… good… painting it."

Robin's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. "Goddammit. I'm sorry about this, but something urgent's come up. I need to see to this right away."

"But – the portraits –"

"I know this is incredibly rude, but I can't put this off. You have my card. Text me and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. And don't sell without me, I'll top any offer!"

Robin ran along a sewer tunnel, tracking the movement of the R-cycle above him. He felt a thousand times freer now he was in his suit, with his makeup and prosthetics stripped off.

"Starfire! What's going on?" he yelled.

Starfire's voice sounded in his ear. "I have been ambushed by two sidekicks of the Mad Mod. I am fine. I told Cyborg I did not require backup."

"What? Why?"

"Because these are not supervillains, Robin. They appear to be juvenile troublemakers. Even the true Mad Mod was merely one frail human. And besides, I wished you to have your personal time."

"Mad Mod was a frail human who's taken down the entire team before. And you're saying he has fanboys now?"

"Robin, I will let Cyborg know if I am in trouble. I am not a child who requires a knorfka. Also, you should not use me as an excuse to stay on duty constantly. I have heard of a concept, the life-work balance? Perhaps if you–"

There was a sharp intake of breath from Starfire followed by the sound of rapid explosions. Then came a swift rush of wind and the unmistakable staccato beats of starbolts being launched.

An unknown male voice crackled through Robin's earpiece. "Oi! Are you chattin' to someone on your communicator, Starfascist? Ain't they got manners on your planet? You can't give someone your attention for five minutes without updatin' your socials, is that it?"

A second, female voice: "It's exactly this sort of disconnection from real human contact in our society that drives youths to find belongin' in fashion subcultures!"

"Star!" Robin called. "Are you okay?"

"I am fine. I will request the help if needed. Starfire out."

"Star!"

"She closed the channel," came Cyborg's voice.

"Why is she out in the city all alone?" Robin demanded.

"I dunno, man! I guess she broke out of her cage and slipped her ankle monitor when I wasn't looking? I didn't know she had a curfew."

Up on the street, an elderly woman screeched and dropped her purse as the manhole cover beside her burst open. A figure shot into the sky, black and yellow cape streaming behind it like folded wings. It somersaulted in the air and plummeted back towards the ground. A second before it hit the road, a motorcycle roared out of nowhere and swept it away. In a couple of seconds, cycle and rider had disappeared, leaving the receding growl of an engine in their wake.

Starfire hovered 40 feet in the air, her fists clenched. The road beneath her was strewn with rubble and the wreckage of a car. Her battered opponents stood back-to-back in front of a strip mall.

"This was supposed to be a day off," Starfire said. "Why did you attack me? Look at all the destruction you have caused!"

The young man calling himself the Haberdasher sighed and shook his head, making his perfectly textured quiff bounce. Though he was covered in dust and bruises, his curls somehow remained intact. "Listen, babe," he said. "Not sure how things work on your world, but on Earth, self-defence is legal."

"Self-defence? I was merely attempting to purchase some human goods! I did nothing to harm you!"

"Au contraire," said the Haberdasher's accomplice, a blonde woman swathed in baggy clothes which rendered her almost invisible. "Look at what you're wearin'. Your outfit is an act of violence. We were defendin' the public."

Starfire couldn't believe what she was hearing. She lowered her fists and glanced down at her clothes. "My… outfit? I have broken some Earth custom I was not aware of? These garments cause offence somehow?"

"Wrong, Starfire." A familiar voice.

Robin had appeared on the roof of the strip mall, directly behind the duo, who spun around and sprang back a step to face him.

"The only Earth custom you've broken," Robin continued, "is the compulsory insanity we have around here. You two better have a damn good explanation for this."

"Be careful, Haberdasher," said the woman. "We've got the attention of the Boy Wonder."

"We're finally gettin' the traction we deserve, Milliner," said the Haberdasher to his companion. "Though this may be too much heat for us. Robin! Good of you to show up. You know, out of all the Titans, we think you're the worst offender. Bad enough you let Starfire run around in that thing-"

"Please, what is wrong with my outfit?" Starfire interjected.

"Oh, nothin', sweetie," said the Milliner. "It just looks like somethin' a promiscuous 14-year-old would wear on Jerry Springer. And everythin' has that nasty PVC finish-lookin' shine to it."

Starfire's eyes burned with green light. "This nasty shine as you call it is a layer of high density titanium polymer! It was designed for me by Robin, and repels both ballistic and energetic projectiles!"

"Does it also repel good taste?"

"Starfire, don't engage with them," Robin growled. "I've seen a lot of weak excuses for violence in this city, but are you two seriously telling me you took up crime because of fashion?"

The Milliner shook her head. "It's so trivial to you, aint it, Robin? You and the Batman know the importance of image better than anyone. Take away your costumes and what are you? Just another pair of thugs lookin' for someone to beat up."

"Listen, Boy Wonder," said the Haberdasher. "We're not all independently wealthy, livin' in luxury towers, jettin' around the world to beat up bad guys with our little friends. In case you haven't noticed, there's a housin' crisis in this country. With stagnant wages, I'll never own a home or support a family. How am I supposed to derive a sense of identity or self-worth with none of the traditional avenues available to me? My personal image is the only means I have to express myself and assert my individuality."

"And bombs," the Milliner said.

"And bombs," the Haberdasher agreed. "Speakin' of which, is that a grenade in your utility belt, or are you just happy to see us, Robin? What's up with the super-skinny green jeans? We know you're a millennial – that nasty gel-spiked mop tells us loud and clear –"

"You have five seconds to surrender," said Robin menacingly.

"But do you have to squeeze your li'l robin's eggs into those XXS titanium pants? I hope you're not plannin' on havin' any little Roblets in the future."

"The long pants are an attempt to look serious," said the Milliner in an unimpressed tone. "Had to make a visual break from the Boy Wonder who worked for the Bat. But this is just sad. You know what'd be bold, Robin? Really lean into the original circus performer outfit. I bet Starfire's never seen you in them speedos before. The ladies'd go wild. Show us your gymnast's legs, you've worked hard for 'em. Bet you'd move better too – more aerodynamic!"

Robin, who'd been crouched low on the roof, slowly rose to his full height. A birdarang appeared in his right hand.

"You'll see just how well I can move in a second. Starfire! On my signal."

Starfire opened her mouth, closed it again, then nodded. If Robin had been watching her, he might have read the questions in her eyes. Questions like, why did you come when I said I didn't need backup? Don't you see I've been handling the situation just fine on my own? Aren't I objectively a lot stronger than you?

But he never looked at her when on the job. He possessed laser focus. That was why he was the Titans' leader.

Paulie lay back on his bed, tears trickling from his eyes. Golden light streamed from the ceiling, light more pure and beautiful than any he'd seen in his life. Light flowed through his body, as though he were transparent and weightless as crystal. Light suffused the spilled bags of shopping, the unwashed dishes, the unopened bills. Like the brush of a painter, like a well-chosen filter, light smoothed over each detail of his sad little life, making each into a thing of beauty.

The voice from the light was grating, harsh. "You were earthbound, yet you dreamt of other worlds. You are no Titan, to fly beyond your planet, to steal embers from the gods. You are a worm. A worm who caught a glimpse of moonlight reflected in a window-pane, and thought he could trace the stars."

The light changed. Fine threads of red appeared in it, like coloured smoke. The red haze drifted, thickened, bled into the gold like dye. Where the golden light had transformed and beautified all it touched, the red obliterated, obscured, until there was nothing else left. Paulie lay in a chamber which glowed red as a beating heart. What was it Robin had said? Yes, these were the red velvet curtains of a circus tent, closing around Paulie. This was the final act of the freakshow called his life.

A jumble of impressions. Music so powerful it roared through him, making his every cell vibrate. A chorus of a thousand ethereal voices, uplifted in a song of madness. An endless blood-red sky with no sun, but four gigantic yellow eyes opening on the horizon. Suddenly, above him, a blade coming down, the knife of mercy—

A/N: I'd like to thank everyone for the kind reviews. This note became a personal essay, so only read beyond this paragraph if you feel like it! I'm a bit run off my feet at the moment, so I'll aim to update by every 3 weeks or so.

I just did my first full rewatch of Teen Titans in 20 years. The show came out when I was 14, and I admit I was sceptical for the first few episodes. I'd never heard of the Titans except Robin. My first superhero crush was the X-men, having been hooked on the 90's Animated Series since I was 6 (my parents thought comic books were a luxury, so my comics knowledge came from TV).

As an edgy teen, I thought Teen Titans was a bit juvenile (tonally and plot-wise) compared to other dark and serious shows that were on at the same time, such as Justice League and most anime. X-men had the teen character Jubilee, but the other characters were adults dealing with serious issues.

I'd started watching X-men for explosions and laser beams, but what stayed with me years later were Rogue's loneliness from her mutation depriving her of human touch, or Scott's desperation during the Dark Phoenix arc as the woman he loved became a destructive, terrifying alien being. (When I got older and read some Titans history, I learnt that Marv Wolfman and George Perez, who created the iconic Teen Titans lineup, were seen as DC's answer to X-men writer Chris Claremont. Probably not a coincidence I got hooked on both these shows.)

Anyway, despite my misgivings, despite being too old for the target demographic, Teen Titans captured my heart. There was some alchemy born from the mix of character archetypes, of teen awkwardness, of adult burdens and childish playfulness. And of damaged young people from hostile families coming together to make a home.

Cringeworthy as it sounds, during my teens I felt as alien as Starfire, and in my memories the Tower became a place even someone like me could belong. As an adult, something kept pulling me back to this world. I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels this way, and the fandom is still kicking around, 20 years later! Things change (thanks Terra), but as any Tamaranean knows, we don't have to invite the Rekma, or Sundering of Bonds. Keep your comms on!